#it just. is it ironic? i just wish i could help people understand more

[crow-caller]

I know it's a pointless thing to express but it really does kill me how many parents who fear and hate and want to cure autism in their kids will blame it on everything.... but genetics. It being genetics wouldn’t help this kind of person either, it just kills me because the autism is probably coming from inside the house!!

No we don't know everything about autism and where it comes from but it is very clearly genetically linked— like my entire family is autistic. it's just our understanding of autism is still pretty modern so it's hard for older generations to see and accept it. Some of those anti autism parents might be autistic themselves, just unable to conceive of what autism is versus what they've been told it is, because of a general lack of education (and a lot of misinformation)

[ribbonknot]

sometimes i feel like rn it's really understated just how bad things could be if trump wins. like, actually. i feel like it's being forgotten that despite how bad things are right now, they would surely get WORSE.

[asumi2020202]

Blessing disguised as a Curse

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen!reader.

A/N: After the 1st episode of season two I'm currently obsessing over Jacaerys. So, many Jacaerys stories will be uploaded as well as Aemond cuz I Love him too. Thank you for reading this fiction.

Summary: You were Alicent's daughter. Younger than the three, Aegon, Aemond and Helaena but older than Daeron. After returning from Dragonstone, Rhaenyra proposes a marriage pact between her eldest and you. A man your mother had warned you about.

___________________________ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ______

People and gatherings made you nervous. Anxiety coursed through your veins everytime someone started a conversation with you. Solitude was what you preferred. Your comfort was your sister and by some means her bugs as well.

Your mother warned you of the people that were coming back to Kings Landing. She told you to keep distance from them. Though you paid almost no mind to her words which were half controlled by your grandsire, you couldn't help but ponder about those people she talked about.

You knew them from the start before they fled to Dragonstone after taking your precious brother's eye. You had felt hatred towards them but 'what if they change?' You had thought countless of times.

You loved your siblings more than anything. Having a father only by name in the court and a stranger in the halls as he supported your half-sister with everything she had done even if it was killing someone.

You love them. You tried to be there for them through everything. You love Aegon even if was arrogant and misbehaving. You love Aemond even if he wanted revenge. You love Helaena even if she is called weird by others and is obsessed with bugs. You love Daeron even if you have almost no memory of him left.

_________________________________________

You were playing with little Jaehaerys and Jaehaera while Helaena was telling you more facts about bugs. She loved that her baby sister also had interest in her bugs and helps her catch them.

"Did you know that butterflies join their bodies together to reproduce?" Helaena asks you meeting your gaze.

"Really? I used to think they flap their wings together." You reply as you played with Jaehaerys while little Jaehaera sat on your lap.

"Hmm. The male butterfly often dies soon after they mate." Helaena spoke as her gaze shifted back on her embroidery.

"So then the female butterfl-" you were going to reply when the doors opened to reveal your mother.

Both you and Helaena looked up at her while the children were escorted away by the maids. " They have landed. Remember what I have told you my sweelings. Be on your best behaviours." Alicent spoke.

"Yes mother we understand " you replied speaking for both you and your sister. Alicent left the room after nodding at you.

_________________________________________

After meeting with her daughters, Alicent left their room. A maid informed her that Princess Rhaenyra had wanted to meet with her.

Alicent let the maid guide her to the room where Rhaenyra was present. When they reached the place, the maid opened the door to let the Queen inside.

Alicent was met with Rhaenyra. She could tell just by the looks that Rhaenyra was pregnant.

"It has been too long since we were granted the chance to converse" Alicent spoke, breaking the silence.

"Indeed it has been. I know you were busy with the royal matters at hand, so I asked for you at a time when you would be free." Rhaenyra replied looking into Alicent's eyes.

"Is there any important matter that you wish to discuss with me?" Alicent asked.

"Yes, there is one actually. The rift between us has lived far too long. I propose a marriage pact. My son Jacaerys will inherit the Iron Throne after me. Let my son and your youngest daughter be betrothed together so they shall rule together.

We are one family. And long before that we were close friends." Rhaenyra said and looked at Alicent for an answer.

"I sh-" Alicent was going to speak but Rhaenyra interjected.

"This marriage will help us reconcile with each other." She said.

"I shall think of it and give you your answer after the feast tonight." Alicent replied. "Thank you your grace." Rhaenyra smiled at her.

_________________________________________

Alicent had requested an audience with her father after meeting Rhaenyra to discuss about the marriage.

"Father I can't just sacrifice my child." Alicent pleaded. "I know Alicent but this marriage can help us take the throne and make Aegon the king." Otto reasoned.

"Tell Rhaenyra that you agree to this proposal. If y/n is married to her son then it will be easier to control them. When the throne is returned to the rightful heir, it will be easier to prevent war." Otto continued.

Alicent feeling defeated, agreed to her father's request.

_________________________________________

You were in your sister's chambers, waiting for her to get finished dressing up so you both could attend the feast together.

Your dress was simple yet the details on it were impressive. It was was a navy blue dress with golden details. It made you look ethereal.

When Helaena was done, the both of you left the chambers together. Holding tightly onto the hands of your sister as the maids escorted you to the feast hall.

All were seated at the table only getting up when Viserys arrived before sitting down again.

You were seated on the right side of Helaena as Aegon sat on her left. Aemond sat at the end of the table. Rhaena and Baela sat on your right. Starting small conversations which you could connect to and laugh with them.

You were trying hard to not feel nervous. You couldn't really face upfront only talking to Rhaena, Baela and Helaena.

Jacaerys had never thought you to be so beautiful over the years. When he first saw you after the years, he hadn't believed it was you. Only five and ten yet you were the most beautiful lady in his eyes. He had seen you accidentally when he was watching Aemond train, you stood in your balcony gazing at the sky. It was he who actually reasoned with his mother to marry you to him.

He couldn't take his eyes off of you during the feast. The way the dress showed your curves. The way you white hair was style. The necklace on your neck. He was in love.

You on the other hand couldn't even meet his gaze after what your mother told you.

'His brother took your brother's eye, who knows if one day he comes and decides to bring harm to us as well.' she had said.

Jace got up, walking upto you. Lending his hand forward, asking for a dance. You looked at your mother who just nodded. After which you had accepted his hand.

He led you to the side. The music had started. As you both started to dance. He didn't seem so bad. He seemed gentle, offering you bright smiles to which you just gave some small ones.

He looked different. Different than how your mother described him. Ruthless, arrogant, selfish and such.

After the feast, when the children went to their designated chambers, Alicent told Rhaenyra that she had accepted the marriage proposal. That she would try to forget the past and reconcile with her.

The two women decided that they shall break the news to the children and the king next morning, bidding each other a good night.

_________________________________________

You woke early as usual. Your maids had prepared you for the day. A knock on the door took your attention.

It was Jace.

The one who you felt some type of attachment to after the previous feast. He stood infront of your door as he said "Our mothers have requested an audience with us at the King's chambers. I was asked to inform you and take you to them."

"Very well then my prince, let us leave at once." You replied, getting up from your seat and walking down the corridor with him.

'My prince?' oh how sweet it sounded coming from your mouth. But he didn't want 'my prince', he wanted 'husband'.

He knew why they both were called, his mother told him yesterday night before he fell asleep. That the two would be married soon.

Upon arrival at the King's chambers, you greeted your mother, Rhaenyra and the king.

"Ah you've arrived. Do sit. Your mother and I have agreed on something and we wish for your answer as well." Rhaenyra said giving a smile while holding hands with Alicent like she used to when they were children.

You nodded your head as a sign for her to continue speaking.

"We have decided that you and my son Jace shall be betrothed together for the harmony of our family. Your mother has agreed and so has Jace but I wish for your answer." Rhaenyra finished her saying.

"It is a most judicious proposition. Wouldn't you agree daughter?" King Viserys who was resting in his armchair spoke up.

You looked at your mother, who stared at you and offered a smile and then to Jacaerys who looked around your face to find any kind of rejection.

You looked up at Rhaenyra, anxiety flaring through and spoke "if it can help the family be whole again and please my mother then I shall agree."

Rhaenyra's face brightened as did Jace's. Alicent only nodded.

"Well then. I believe we can start with the preparations right away." Rhaenyra said getting up to hold your hands as you looked up to her.

_________________________________________

"You've warned me my entire life about them mother, and now you simply marry me off to him. I don't get you." You spoke to your mother calmly.

"Sweetling, I know it is difficult for you but it is for the greater good. It is to uphold the realm and make peace." Alicent reasoned while placing her hand on your face.

No other word was spoken as you went back to your chambers.

You liked Jacaerys after the events of last night but you couldn't help but worry about what your mother told you. You couldn't help but worry about your siblings, you would have to leave your home and go to Dragonstone with them.

_________________________________________

Three days since that day, your wedding was held. You and Jace cut your lips and the your palms. Holding your hands together, you both drank from the same cup with your other hands. The septa reciting the vows the both of you had to take.

Your families bear witness of the event. Of the love that was to blossom.

After the feast that was held, you left for your now shared chambers in the red keep.

Jacaerys came in a moment after you. You felt nervous. It was your first night together. As if a miracle, he sense your nervousness.

"Is something bothering you dear wife? You even left the feast early." He asked softly not to startle you.

Wife. Oh how you knew you will love him just from how that word slipped from his mouth.

"It is nothing lord husband. It's just that I don't fare well in gatherings. I find solace in solitude." You reply back.

"Well I hope that from now on I can be your solace." Jacaerys replied with his bright smile as he came closer to you. Your chest almost touching his lower chest.

He was tall. You had tilt your head up to meet him. You didn't move aside as he cupped your cheeks and looked at your for permission.

As you nodded, he took the sign and kissed you. You both had consummated that night for the first time.

________________________________________

The day came when you had to leave with them to Dragonstone. You would eventually come back when Rhaenyra would be crowned.

You stood before your siblings and parents, kissing the cheeks of your siblings. "Will you come back soon?"

"Of course my little cuddle bears." You said as you crouched down to meet the level of your nephew and niece.

You climbed on top of your dragon, Moonfyre as they all bid you farewell. You heart saddened as you thought that Helaena would be alone now with Aegon ignoring her. Aemond might not even apply his ointments properly. And your mother.. would be lonely.

Moonfyre sensed your worry and sadness, letting out a low groan. She was as beautiful as the night. A white dragon whose color slowly went from white to grey. Eyes as bright as the moon, earning her name when she hatched.

_________________________________________

Viserys was dead. It had been moons since you left. A raven had informed Rhaenyra that her half brother Aegon had usurped the throne.

The weight of the matter forced her to go in labor. Her child was a stillborn. It pained her. You knew it tore her from the inside but she had to focus one the matters at hand.

Ser Eryyk had came with the crown of King Jaehaerys I. Daemon crowned her as the queen as all bowed. Otto came to make peace with them which resulted in rejection straight up in his face.

She sent her sons to earn the favor of other houses.

_________________________________________

"Y/n" you heard her call you from the back as stood near the stairs of Dragonstone, gazing at the sea.

"Come walk with me" she told you. As you both went down the stairs to the beach, you both had a gentle conversation.

"Do you wish to switch sides? I would not blame you if you do for they are your family." Rhaenyra spoke.

"All my life, I've seen them being neglected. By both father and mother. I was their and still am their comfort source.

Aegon always told me that he will not sit the iron throne. He told me that being a king will only hold him down in one place, and that he wishes to fly free like a dragon." You pause, looking at her eyes while gently holding her hand before continuing.

"And now they tell me that he has Usurped the throne. That he is now the king and that he now rules. That doesn't seem like the Aegon i know." You told her as she looked at you and nodded her head.

_________________________________________

You stood in the middle of Rhaena and Baela as see someone tell Rhaenyra a few words as she broke down.

She turned around, her eyes filled with rage and sorrow.

Lucerys was dead. Vhagar attacked him.

You felt helpless. Did your brother intentionally kill the Heir to Driftmark? You knew he had a deep hatred for Lucerys for taking his eye. But he wouldn't go as far as to kill him.

A raven had been sent to Jacaerys, informing him of the news. You couldn't face the queen. She knew you were innocent but that cannot pardon the sin of your brother.

You had began to open up but now your alone again. The little child seeking solitude. Hiding from people.

_________________________________________

A raven had arrived, delivering a letter to you. It was from the Red Keep. It was Aegon.

Dear Sister,

I know what has been done cannot be changed, but Aemond didn't actually wanted to kill Luke. It was grandsire. He got in his head like mother. He lost control over Vhagar.

I don't wish to rule. They told me that inorder for Rhaenyra to rule, she would have to kill us. That she would kill us all to secure the throne for her and her son. Grandsire said the same thing to Mother the other day, I had overheard it.

This war shouldn't happen. It will tear all of us apart. We are not the enemy of the blacks nor are they ours. Our enemy is Otto Hightower. He wants to rule the kingdom indirectly by being the hand.

Tell our half sister that we must work together. That I am willing to lay down my throne. She will be the Protector of the Realm. I know this is a crucial time for you but stay safe.

-Yours truly

Aegon.

You didn't know what to say. You were Alicent's daughter, who would believe you. They might consider you a traitor as well. You clutched the letter to your chest.

You walls finally broke. You broke down on the bed. It was him from the beginning. Otto Hightower. Anger and pain surrounded you. You cried as you brought your knees to your chest and hid your face there.

The door slowly opened which you hadn't noticed. It was Jacaerys. He had a melancholy look in his eyes as well as of guilt and hatred.

He hated seeing you cry. His Lady Wife. He gently put his head on your back. You looked up to meet his gaze with a tearful look.

The way he looked broke your heart. He looked used and betrayed. You got up and met his gaze again never letting go of the letter.

"Lord husband-" you started but he shakes his head as a no.

"Don't. Don't speak." He tried to say it normally but it came out cold as he walked towards the desk in your room to perhaps look for something.

"Please listen to me. He is innocent. I got a ra-" You started again but got cut off.

""Innocent?! He killed my brother! How can you possibly call him innocent?! My brother went as a messager. He vowed not to fight and Your Brother!..... Took advantage of that!" He screamed at you. For the first time. You had never seen him so angry even when your brothers teased him. He looked at you with hatred.

Tears flooded your vision again. He had never raised his voice at you. You knew it was due to the loss of his brother but that didn't hurt any less.

"I understand your pain. But you must listen to me! At least once hus-" you reasoned which angered him further.

"How can you understand My pain?! T'is I who lost my brother not you. And whats there to listen to? That your brother killed him accidentally?!

Tell me. Were you also a part of this? I truly thought you had loved me. But it seems you're the same as well!" He shouted again coming closer to you.

"I truly do love you. Please believe me!" Your tears flowed freely.

"No you don't. Tell me... Was this marriage also a scheme of you and your family?! Shut up, just shut up for once!"

Your eyes went wide. He wanted you to shut up. You were bothering him. He doubted your love for him. His own eyes widened a bit when he realised what he said. He left the chambers in a hurry not wanting to discuss about this further.

Your chest felt tight. You couldn't breathe properly. You had trouble while trying to inhale the air.

_________________________________________

As Jacaerys left the chambers, he felt as if his clothes were too tight for his body. He saw Baela and Rhaena bringing your food to your chambers like they have been since the day they received the news of Luke.

They nodded at him as he reciprocated.

As they went inside the chambers, a scream could be heard. Possibly from Baela. It could be heard from all the corners of the castle.

Jace heard it before anyone else as his heart stopped. He rushed straight back to the shared room as he saw Baela cradling your unconscious, small form to her chest while Rhaena panicked and told the maids to call for the maesters.

His breathing stopped as he saw his mother and Princess Rhaenys enter the room along with the maester and maids. His mother looked at him as his eyes filled with tears.

First he lost Lucerys he can't lose you too. He didn't mean anything he said.

_________________________________________

Jacaerys paced around the hall infront of your room. He watched as Rhaena guided his little brother Joffery to his room. Joffery was fond of you which warmed Jace's heart.

As the maesters came out both he and Rhaenyra stood up.

"How is she?" He asked them.

"She has a heavy fever. It possibly happened due to excessive stress. She must have bed rest. " The maesters spoke before leaving.

_________________________________________

It had been 2 days. You were yet to wake up. Moonfyre's cries and wails could be heard from everywhere. She was uncomfortable. Her bonded sister was not well and she could sense it.

Jace held your hand as he apologized over and over again. His tears wetting the sheets.

Your eyes slowly opened. Adjusting to the bright light. Jace looked up to see you now wide awake, trying to sit up.

"No no lay down. You need rest. The maester said you were stressed." He said. His voice quivering.

"Don't cry. I understand your part. I'm sorry I am not what you wish for. I know you wouldn't want to be with a murderer's sister. Hence I give you full permission to take a second wife." You gently said while looking at him.

"No shut up." He said lowly not believing what you said. "I didn't mean anything I said that day. I am sorry." He spoke.

You looked out the window remembering the last time he had asked you to shut up. Tears again filled your eyes which you blinked away but Jace noticed.

"My love i didn't mean it that way. Please believe me." He pleaded shaking his head as held your hand tight.

News spreads fast in the castle. A maid had informed the rest that you were awake. Daemon was with Caraxes and lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys were somewhere on the beach.

Rhaenyra, Rhaena and Baela came to the your chambers. The sisters came beside you as they held onto your hand.

Even though you were the daughter of their enemy, they loved you. You were different.

Rhaenyra looked at her son before turning her gaze to you. She felt disappointed in her son after she learned about the argument.

You asked Rhaena for the letter kept on your bedside table as your body was too weak to move. You probably need a few more weeks to be healthy again.

You asked her to give it Rhaenyra.

As Rhaenyra opened the letter and read it's contents, she felt clueless. She didn't realise the state of the other side. Her companion was manipulated from the start.

She held your hand and gave you a sad look. She handed the letter to Jace as she thought that he should read it as well.

His heart broke. You tried to tell him everything but he refused to listen. You tried to explain everything but he only badmouthed you.

Rhaenyra promised you that Otto Hightower will be punished and that none of your siblings would be harmed.

_________________________________________

Calling of your name came from two bubbly voice as they ran to you. You crouched down and opened your arms. The force of your nephew and niece's weight made you fall flat on your butt.

Jacaerys smiled as he saw the reunion. Infront of him stood your four siblings whom you kissed on the cheeks and hugged after getting up.

It was Rhaenyra's official coronation day. Otto Hightower was beheaded for his schemes against the crown.

Rhaenyra and Alicent were finally together again after Rhaenyra found Daemon with Nettles.

All of the royal family stood as King Jaehaerys' crown was placed upon her head. All gave their respects to their first queen.

Jacaerys held your hand tight as he smiled at you which you reciprocated.

_________________________________________

As night fell over kings landing, you and Jace retired to your new shared chambers.

"Husband. Join me in bed." You requested. Your body glowing in your night gown because of the moonlight.

"Of course avy jorrāelan." Jace replied as he climbed on top of the bed and over your body, pinning you down.

He kissed you passionately as one of your hand cupped his face while the other held onto his neck for support.

His naked chest glowed like yours in the moonlight.

"You are most precious thing I have my love." He said as pulled away from your lips.

"And you, my lord husband, came in my life like a blessing disguised as a curse." You said as you both looked at each other and hungrily kissed each other.

The two of slept a long time after consummating the entire night.

He truly did came in your life like a Blessing disguised as a Curse.....

[gb-patch]

GB Patch Games: Sensitivity Reader Update

Okay, well I am able to make another statement before Rose does. I can now explain much more easily why I didn’t fire Rose. There’s been new developments with the leakers. The people behind this have doxed Rose’s discord account (please don’t go looking for it) and also shared a screenshot of an email that was sent to my support address months ago. They believe that incriminates us somehow, but really all it’s done is shown in broad daylight what they were doing and why I was defending Rose so much. If I had brought up that email as a connection to this myself people understandably would’ve thought I was making a conspiracy.

However, it is out now. Here is the story- a few months ago someone who wanted to remain anonymous sent me an email with a screenshot where Rose called me a cracker. And I told them I appreciated the concern but it’s alright, was there evidence of Rose being unkind to players? They had nothing. No response.

As an aside, yes, I have been aware for a long time that Rose uses crude language when talking about me. That doesn’t mean I’ve hidden how evil they were from players. It means I’m allowed to choose what I’m comfortable with. That original “reveal” didn’t shock or upset me in any way. Our Life is a sensitive, wholesome game, but I’m a full-grown adult. I’m not innocent or pure. The game I released before OL is XOXO Blood Droplets. Something I wrote and released to the public is full of crude jokes, curse words, and violence. It’s cartoonish and comical, but edgy. Rose themselves likes to BS with bad words and I’m not accepting abuse because I think getting called a pussy is funny. I know Rose doesn’t hate me or wish me any harm. Rose also isn’t causing “discourse” for me and my games on purpose, they were joking that bringing up serious topics is “discourse” to some people. Ironically, the leakers who did this are trying to make some “discourse” on purpose.

Regardless, I initially thought that email was from someone earnestly worried for me and that they moved on when it was clear I was fine. But that’s not what happened. Them and at least one other person have been waiting for months to bring this up again. They went through almost a year’s worth of Rose’s private posts to collect as many unflattering screenshots as they could, and then they didn’t send them to me. They posted them publicly. I had a suspicion from the get go that it was the same person/people from before who couldn’t prove anything to me in private. And if true, how horrible is it that a bunch of the comments they shared were crude language towards me, something they already knew I’d brush off as nothing. They decided for me that it was wrong and they wanted the rest of the players to do the same. Or even less charitably, those extra posts were simply there to make Rose look as bad and untrustworthy as possible and they didn’t care that I was comfortable with it. I could not explain everything we were thinking/feeling at first, but behind the scenes we were discussing how this was personally motivated and not a knee-jerk act without forethought. And we do know for certain at least the main people involved now, and they do have personal issues with Rose.

Also, if you still believe that they just wanted to help the game at any length because Rose is that huge of a risk, showing that email and framing something innocuous about me (not fainting at the word “cracker” and politely being open to more proof) as serious “evidence of wrongdoing” at GB Patch Games makes me believe they want to smear Rose so bad they’ll try to turn players against me as well. Plus, the post is framed as “this email was anonymously sent to me”, but we know from account details that the people who could’ve gotten those screenshots of the discord and email are the same people who sent that email and started this situation, which is embarrassing. I’ve confirmed the screenshots shared in the email to me and the original public post came from the same private, “venting-safe” discord server. There’s very few people in there. We know it’s still you and not a separate source. I can’t prove they think I’m stupid or in their way, but I can’t see how anything they’re doing is trying to be beneficial to the creation of OL: NF. They told me in the email they’d give me more evidence if I requested it and I was ready to know, but instead they went silent for months and then did this.

I want it to be clear that this doesn’t mean players can’t wonder if Rose has enough experience to be a sensitivity reader right now, or to worry they’re so invested in the game that it’s going to effect how objective they are with their feedback, or to say that Rose is flawless and has never done anything hurtful. However, I hope you can understand why I was on Rose’s side and couldn’t just fire them over this. It felt so incredibly unfair. If another person tries to get their way by doing this in the future, I will not hail them as a hero and immediately fire at the target. And I don't tolerate any racial harassment of any kind to anyone on my team.

If those people want to continue to share Rose’s private posts in retaliation, you can fuck off. If you somehow reveal now that Rose is secretly a murderer, I’m not gonna apologize and say I was so wrong about you. If you had tons of evidence of Rose being horrible to players, you should’ve sent it all to me and with full context to begin with in the email like you offered to do. I just don’t understand.

Any players who like to see someone’s least flattering points portrayed in the worst possible way and continue flocking to the leaks as fandom drama, I don’t want you in this fandom. I don’t want you to enjoy my games.

Anyone who has been truly hurt by this and are left confused and angry, I do completely understand that. I didn’t know how to handle this, and it made a lot of people not know how to keep trusting me. I am still looking into getting a community manager to help me better communicate with players, especially when something serious happens. And I’ll always be around for you to reach out to if you have doubts about anything.

[leonw4nter]

Like or Like Like?

RE2R!Leon x Singlemom!F!Reader

“Will Leon finally come with us to school tomorrow?” Dash quietly asks, interrupting the silence that settled over the both of you as you were just about to fall asleep. You look down and are greeted by open eyes, his little head propped up on your arm as he snuggles up with a teddy bear.

“He was busy the last time and the time before that but he said he’ll make it up to us,” he added. “Did you ask him again? He might’ve forgotten about tomorrow.”

You stroke his hair, pressing a light kiss to his hairline as you try to lull him to sleep.

“Mhm, he said that he’s good to go tomorrow. Leon’s excited coz it’s going to be his first time tomorrow,” you say in a hushed tone. You don’t need to open your eyes to know that he’s grinning wide, too excited to fall asleep easily now.

“I should go ask Leon–”

“No, he’s probably asleep in his own room. It’ll be impolite to disturb him, right?” you ask in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah,” he mutters somewhat dejectedly though not upset about the fact.

“How about tomorrow morning instead, over breakfast?”

He nods and mumbles a quick goodnight, turning over to face the wall as he wills himself to fall asleep.

If his father was still in the picture, he would be the one accompanying the both of you to tomorrow’s parent-teacher conference. Unfortunately he bowed out of the picture as soon as you were discharged, nowhere to be found until you heard that he was probably somewhere tropical on a boat with another woman. You were left behind lost and directionless, confused on how to raise a baby alone; you really thought that you were set with him and your small family but people always change, no matter the circumstance. Fortunately, you have a doting childhood best friend who was ready to step into the picture as a stand-in for a father figure despite having little to no experience with little kids, much less newborns: Leon. He was young as well but he took his part seriously and practically raised your bundle of joy alongside you– volunteering to wake up at various points at night for feeding, bathing, and tagging along for monthly check-ups. His bond with Dash is so close that upon first look, people often assumed that the two were biologically related. Teething was far from easy– many nights Dash's crying seemed endless with a steady flow of tears, nothing seemed to calm him down yet he stayed patient and helped you throughout. Now, he’s happy that the baby that once puked on his blues is growing up to be a strong and cheerful child.

Leon did everything he could to be there just so Dash could feel that he had a complete set of parents during family activities. He dismissed the judgemental glances of other mothers upon seeing the three of you, you and him looking far younger than everyone else but he could care less– what do they know about your family anyway? The blond promised the kid that he would come along for the first parent-teacher conference but unfortunately he was paged in for an important shift, one that he couldn’t refuse so he had to apologize profusely and promise another time. Much to his dismay, he was placed in another important shift and couldn’t opt out once more. As much as he praised and appreciated the kid’s display of maturity and understanding, he felt like a real jerk for being unable to stick to his promise the second time around even if he couldn’t do anything about it. You assured him that it’s all fine and that he can make up for it through other things, like taking him for a walk in the park or getting him a new toy. As soon as you show him the circular for the third meeting, he spends the entire week heavily wishing that nothing goes wrong within the week so he can finally be there for the kid he considers his son. In his excitement, he digs out a rare-used light blue button up and navy blue slacks, ironing them and asking if they’re appropriate for the occasion if paired with white sneakers.

The car is buzzing with excitement and positivity, you and Dash sat together at the back while Leon drives. Dash’s favorite songs are playing on the radio, courtesy of Leon asking him to list down his favorites so he can have them burned into a CD so he’ll have something to put on when your sweet little boy goes on a ride with him. His gaze flits from the road to the rear view mirror, chuckling quietly to himself when he sees the two of you engage in a lively conversation. Both of your laughter is unguarded and free of self-consciousness, a hearty and throaty sound straight from the heart; your lips are pulled back to form a smile that rivals the sun, your cheeks lift and forms two round apples with a beauty and glow that prompts him to release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Leon thinks that undeniably, Dash is a 100 percent a mama’s boy: the tilt of his grin is like yours, along with your habit of tilting your head back with every bubbly laugh, and the tendency to clap your hands. In no time, Leon arrives at the school’s parking lot and finds an empty space to park in.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“I see that dad’s here,” Mrs. Perkins comments as she sees Dash carried in Leon’s arms. She softly smiles, offering a seat to the both of you before extending her hand to shake his. You and Leon take a moment to exchange flustered sheepish looks, matching rosy flushes reddening your cheeks and the tips of your ears. Dash grins and giggles, covering his grin with his hand as he looks on at this adorably awkward scene unfold.

“He’s not–”

“I’m not–”

The teacher looks at the both of you and chuckles softly as she clasps her hands together. “Yes?”

“I’m Dash’s uncle, actually– his mom’s best friend. I’m Leon Kennedy by the way,” he awkwardly clarifies as he shakes her hand.

“Ooh, good day mister Kennedy! It’s nice to see you.”

Mrs. Perkins doesn’t appear to buy the whole ‘mom’s best friend’ thing, shooting you two a knowing look before she pulls her hand back from the handshake and gestures for you both to take a seat.

The meet-up goes well; the teacher is full of praise and pride in your son’s academic performance; she remarks that he is quite bright for his age– he knows a lot of words that his peers don’t know yet, asks questions atypical for his age, and is very well-known for his creativity when it comes to arts and crafts activities. Leon’s heart only swells even more when he notices that you’ve reached over to hold his hand, squeezing rhythmically. He breaks his gaze from the teacher to take a moment and study your face; your dimples– two perfect indentations in the side of both cheeks– appear as you try to press your lips into a tight smile though he notes the expressive shimmer in your eyes, your joy contagious. He can’t help but let  out a soft chuckle, squeezing your hand back. He gives the little boy a high-five before ruffling his head in a display of affection.

“We’ve got a little Einstein in our hands,” Leon jokes once the teacher concludes her remarks. “Well done bud, we’re proud of you!”

As a reward for his academic performance, you and Leon treat him to ice cream. Though you’re taking initiative to pay for the snack since you can afford to do so, Leon persists on paying for everyone. After a little while, Dash insists on going to the playground and you both agree to let him play for a few hours until he wants to stop. Your best friend insists on being the one to watch over, giving you time to sit down and rest up for a bit while Leon plays and runs around with your son, madly entertaining Dash. An hour or two later, the pair returns back to you for a water break to catch their breaths for a moment. As you wipe your son’s little face, he asks a question.

“Mama, why isn’t Leon my dad?” He asks in such an innocent voice. You hear a muffled choke come from your side, a tomato-faced Leon trying to conceal his coughing. “Doesn’t he want to be my dad? He’s here for both of us and he loves us too.”

You stare at him with a surprised expression while Leon clears his throat, clearly just as taken aback as you. Children are such upfront little people.

“Leon, you love us right?” He asks with expectant eyes.

“Yes, buddy. So, so much.”

You look up at Leon and give him a soft smile and he returns a shaky yet genuine smile of his own.

“Mom, do you love Leon?”

“What? Of course I do! He’s my best friend! We’ve been friends ever since we were as small as you were! Right, Leon?”

“Yup! We’re just very close friends, we care for each other y’know.” A pang rattles Leon’s heart– whatever you said shouldn’t sting this much but it does and he feels embarrassed. “I’ll just throw this bottle. I’ll be back guys.”

You watch as Leon walks over to the bin, the sweat on his hair glistening under the afternoon sun. It’s only right for you to hand him a towel and get him some more water.

“Even Mrs. Perkins thinks he’s my dad,” Dash quietly mumbles to himself as he fumbles with his shoe laces right before you bend down and help him out. Leon returns and asks Dash if he’s ready to go, to which he responds enthusiastically before they go running to the swings once again.

“Leon!” You exclaim before he gets too far. He turns around and you toss him a towel, to which he smiles at the gesture before wiping his cheeks and forehead. As he turns back, you wished that you had handed it to him instead so your hands would brush by accident.

As you sit and watch on to the sight of two of the most important people in your life, both with endearingly gleaming smiles as they run around, it deeply occurs to you just how deeply Leon’s life is woven with yours and Dash’s; he treated Dash as if he were his own, offering sleepless nights of support and assistance for when things get rough. Although you were hesitant to accept help from him, especially since you saw your baby as a responsibility you should take on alone, he stepped into the father-figure role naturally. He’s become everything you both needed without even trying; his kindness, endless patience, and humor– it’s all just the small bits of a love you’re beginning to see. You’ve been leaning on him in ways that feel less like friendship and more like something else, something fiercer and more potent and it scares you because the last thing you want to be is to depend on him entirely, feeling like a freeloader. As he playfully lifts your son up into his arms, you’re struck with an emotion you can’t ignore– a feeling both powerful and terrifying. Every instance of his support, every sacrifice he made, all the moments he showed up when no one else would– your affections have quietly been growing all along. You smile at him, chuckling to yourself as the depth of your own feelings stun you.

“Mama!” Dash calls out, waving. “Come play with us!”

“Yeah!” Leon adds, cupping his hands around his mouth. “It’ll be fun!”

“Alright, alright!” You say, skipping over to them.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The playground trip lasted all afternoon, effectively tiring out your hyper little bundle of joy who is now fast asleep in Leon’s arms. You both agree to call it a day, walking back to the car to put him in his child seat. He checks on you too but you reassure him that you’re fine and happy that Dash’s happy.

“It’s no biggie,” Leon says in a hushed voice as he gives you a boyish grin. “I’m glad I finally got to come along.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. “I’m glad too. I haven’t seen him this energetic in a while.”

The soft hum of the engine blends with the rustle of the wind outside, filling the quiet car with a sense of peace as everyone finds themselves content with the day’s activities. You rest your head against the window, the cool glass a soothing contrast to the warmth on your cheeks. Leon drives with a quiet focus, fingers occasionally drumming against the steering wheel to an imaginary melody in his mind. He glances over with a small smile, to which you return as your tired eyes meet briefly. Sometime along the drive, Leon gently breaks the silence.

“His teacher thought we were his parents back there,” he recounts. “Does she know about…”

You know he’s hinting at whether or not Dash’s teacher knows about the situation between you and his biological father.

“No, she doesn’t. I prefer to keep things private,” you respond.

“Yeah, I totally understand it but uh… she got me kind of nervous earlier.”

Your heart rate spikes up, realizing that he felt the same as you did– flustered and giddy.

“Same, I didn’t realize that some people would see us like that.”

“Maybe we’re just so compatible with each other that people think we’re married or something,” he jokes but the streetlight briefly shines on his face, revealing a bloom of pink on his cheeks.

“Well if people think we’re married, maybe we’re giving off very convincing chemistry,” you say with a grin and a raise of an eyebrow.

Not too long after, you both arrive back home. You move to unbuckle Dash and gently rouse him as you carry him inside before washing him up. Leon finishes up with securing his car and offers to pat him dry as you put away his bath soaps. After getting him dressed and settled into bed, you take the time to look after yourself and have a bath. You hear the second bathroom door click shut right before the high-pitched creak of the shower handle so Leon must’ve gone to shower now, probably just as worn-out as your son is.

Leon’s always admired how you handle everything gracefully– the late nights, endless responsibilities– wondering how you do it all without crumbling under the immense pressure. It’s impossible for him to ignore his heart ache with something he’s dreamt of for so long, all the feelings he’s kept under lock and key out of fear that he’ll fuck everything up if he lets even a small sliver of it slip out. He finds himself admiring you more than he should, that unspoken affection that’s more than just concern for a dear friend growing over time with each shared laughter, tears, and struggle. He’s remained loyal by your side as a best friend and a fun father-figure to Dash but he catches his mind constantly slip into the idea of being more than just your best friend, someone you can lean on as a partner– to be the one to hold you when you’re tired and takes care when you and your son are both tired for as long as he can. These thoughts scare him because Leon doesn’t want to risk the bonds you three have formed but he can’t help but wonder if you’ll see him the way he sees you. He doesn’t want to make you any more upset and distrusting, especially with the absence of Dash’s biological father; he can’t help but feel a wave of protective anger rush over him at the thought of someone walking away from his best friend and her son but in that moment when Mrs. Perkins referred to him as Dash’s dad, a fizzy sense of belonging spread through him. In that moment, he allowed himself to indulge in the thoughts of actually stepping into that role, to be there for both of them in a way that you clearly both needed and deserved but he guesses that you’re hesitant on the idea of having a partner again so he swallows his feelings and prioritizes yours first.

He hears the door to the bathroom open up, footfalls fading to the direction of your bedroom. Leon gets up from his spot on the couch and heads upstairs, spotting you; you’re in your sleep clothes, towel-drying your hair as you walk to your room. 

“Hey,” he softly begins as he fumbles with a loose thread on the hem of his sleep shirt. “Do you wanna sit outside on the porch with me? It’s fine if you don’t, I know it’s been a long day.”

As good as sleeping sounds, a personal one-on-one time with Leon sounds somehow better. It’s been a long time since you’ve both spent some time together– talking about nonsense and something other than work, so it’ll be a nice moment to catch up despite literally living together.

“I’m good with that,” you respond. “Just hold on though, I’m drying my hair.”

“Okay,” he exhales with a smile. “I’ll wait outside!”

You swiftly wring the water out of your hair and brush it before you throw on a sweatshirt then head out. You pass Dash’s room once more and he’s still out like a light, soft hushed snores filling the otherwise silent room. All the lights in the house are out and everything is still and peaceful. You see Leon’s frame sitting on the porch, hands braced on both his sides as he stretches his tartan pajama-clad legs.

“Hey, you.”

He turns around and pats the spot beside him. “Hey, yourself.”

You sit beside him and do some stretching of your own, yawning as you do so. The cold breeze tickles your face and sends a few strands of Leon’s bangs poking upwards.

“I just wanna sit in here until the morning comes,” he says with a wistful sigh as he shakes his head, trying to get his bangs to move out of his eyes.

“I wouldn’t mind, honestly. As long as it’s with you,” you gently nudge him with your elbow.

“Even if I’ll crack the corniest jokes?”

“Especially with your corniest jokes.”

A short silence befalls the both of you before the blond beside you pipes up again.

“Hey, if we’ll still be taking the time at night to sit on this porch twenty years from now, what do you think we’ll be talking about?”

You hum in thought, fingers drumming against the steps.

“I dunno, but I know you’re probably still making me laugh. I’d be on board with that.”

He chuckles, a hushed release of air. Silence settles again as both of you take in the scenery in front– an empty road, swaying tree leaves, and the sparkle of stars overhead amidst the clear sky. Sitting on a porch is a fairly plain activity, one that you have done quite often and way before Dash arrived in your life but doing these with Leon always felt exceptionally different; back in childhood, this was your thing every Friday night– you, him, and what appeared to be the best view in town in your small corner of the universe. Stars, the breeze, and your favorite person right by your side is all you ever needed to unwind after a long day.

“His fiancé invited me to their wedding,” you quietly admit. You catch Leon’s head turning to face you, interest evident in his face.

“Who?” he asks.

“Oh, you know. Him, my ex. They’re getting married. I don’t even know how she found me.”

Leon’s face falls, eyes glinting with some form of pity. He moves closer to you, arm pressed against yours as he moves to wrap you into a snug hug.

“I’m fine, Leon, seriously. I’ve moved on. I don’t want anything to do with him and neither does my son so I don’t think I ever have to see him again. I’ve healed and I’m moving on,” you firmly say but you don’t make an effort to push him off, sinking into his hug instead.

“I know. You’re very brave and strong and you handle everything like a champ but this is still really insensitive of them to do,” his voice comes out slightly muffled.

“I blocked her number and account on all platforms I could find her so she’ll never reach me again,” you reassure him with a grin. “So don’t worry about me getting my heart broken, okay? I know better than to talk to that good-for-nothing, piece of shit.”

You smile at the slight jostle of Leon’s frame, knowing that he’s laughing at you calling your ex a piece of shit as you hug him back, resting your chin on his shoulder as you smile in contentment.

“You deserve someone better than that and don’t worry, if he pulls something stupid I’m going to sock him in the nuts,” he declares.

“Sounds like a plan,” you laugh. “And for the record, I think I know someone who’s definitely better than that.”

“Who?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yup.”

“I’m taking this as a pretty big compliment. I guess I’ll have to prove it to you, huh?” His voice is warm as he rubs the back of his neck, a mechanism he does when he’s flustered.

“Yeah, and you’ve got plenty of time to prove it to me since you’re going to be stuck with me forever,” you joke back.

“That sounds like shit,” Leon loudly says, which earns a shove from you. “Ow!”

“Shut up, as if you wouldn’t be bored and lost without me.”

“Fair point,” he concedes.

The night drags on with you and him engaging in friendly banter and in an unspoken competition to make the other snort mid-chortle. With each number the short hand of a clock points to, the solitude that the night offers turns into the perfect opportunity to say things that you two would normally be shy to talk about. You’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion that’s clouding both your judgements or the howl of the wind against your ears but you’re slightly thankful that it led to this moment.

“I’m getting kind of tired,” you say.

“Me too,” Leon agrees, dusting off his pants after long hours of laughing as he gets ready to get up and call it a night.

“No, not just that…”

Leon looks over to you concerned, features losing the smile it had and replaced with a look of urgency and concern. “You alright?”

“I’m just… I’m getting tired of pretending that I don’t want to kiss you every time you smile like that,” you admit as a heat creeps up to your face as if you were sitting near a bonfire. He’s stunned silent now, staring at you with an intense gaze and for some reason, this prompts you to go on.

“I want to finally say things that I’ve only ever said to you in my head and it sounds crazy but not as crazy as I am about you.”

Leon sat frozen like a deer caught in headlights, mind racing in circles and each thought colliding while all he could do was stare wide-eyed and madly flustered. Your stomach feels pitted when you see the shock on Leon’s face, an icky regret creeping up to engulf you in shame and self-loathing. A lump lodges in your throat as you scramble to form words to apologize to him.

“No, no, it’s not that– I swear. It’s just that I’m really, really caught off-guard because me too,” his words tumble out. “I mean, I feel the same way. I’ve loved you for a while now and I just didn’t know how to say or deal with it because I thought that you wouldn’t be open to dating.”

Despite the quake in his palms, he takes your hand in his and gives it a grounding squeeze.

“I didn’t want to say anything or act on how I felt because I was afraid that I’d ruin everything that we formed together and I’d lose you forever. It’s funny how my whole life I have loved you and I was completely fine with us being best friends.”

His words draw a small chuckle from you, the swarm of butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach. You feel as if you’re stuck in a rapidly turning whirlwind, your world spinning with each glance of his affectionate smile.

“If you’d let me, I’d love to be there for you and Dash.” He says with a determined expression. “I want to be someone you can depend on in a way beyond close friends, if you’ll have me. I’ll always be here.”

You thought that you were too complicated, that no one would willingly take on the challenge of your little family but here is Leon, sharing his heart and devotion and now it all makes perfect sense. You and Dash deserve someone like him, someone who loved the both of you wholly and saw you both as someone to love and protect and not just another obligation.. It was the kind of love you thought you could never ever have, the sort that you’d quietly given up on. Tonight has shown that you could finally allow him to be the partner and father that he already was at heart. The sensation of his thumb brush against your knuckles brought you back on this porch, met with such a tender gaze that your breath caught in your chest. He leaned in closer but only hovered above your lips in such dizzying proximity, your answer coming out in a shaky yet soft exhale as your lips meet in a seal to a new promise as the rest of the world melted away.

NOTE - This is a very simultaneous writing project that I whipped up in an hour and a half, at 2:02 AM from where I'm at, so it might not: (1) make any sense, (2) be the neatest work I've posted in here, and (3) have the world's most stiff dialogue, uncooked pasta noodles have more flexibility than this 😭 I've been thinking about writing smut lately because I have an idea of a smut fic in my head but it's so embarrassing typing "cock" and "mmhh" into a google doc 😭😭 like the idea I have is so good but just writing the mechanics of sex is embarrassing for me LMAAOO. Since my laptop's about to run out of battery, I'll end my yapping here. Thank u for reading my fics!!!!!!!! I <333333 UUUUUUUU + please, please, please stay safe everyone! The weather is wilding nowadays.

The hand-drawn dividers are made by @inklore , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere sasuke concept please with a rebel runaway darling

Sure! I don't think I have a good grasp on Sasuke's character... so I'm hoping this is decent. The request is a bit vague but I first interpreted it as you running away from him so... that's what this is.

Yandere! Sasuke Uchiha with Runaway! Darling

(+ Escape Attempt HCs because I misread the request....)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Isolation, Violence/Threats, Possessive behavior, OOC Sasuke no doubt, Stalking, Delusional behavior, Forced relationship.

By runway I assumed you meant you were escaping him.

You probably trained with him when he was younger in Konoha similar to Naruto and Sakura.

Except years after he left on his personal conquest for power... He came back and stole you away.

Sasuke has gone through a lot after leaving Konoha... while he was usually cold towards his old teammates....

He cared enough to come to you.

Yet I feel even after literal abduction he acts a bit cold towards you.

What if Sasuke originally stole you away because he was hoping you'd understand his goals.

Maybe he fell for you while Sakura was fawning over him, constantly watching you and working with you while he was training.

He always felt you had potential.

He came back for you because he felt you could help him.

Or maybe it was purely because he loved you?

His reasoning is selfish nonetheless.

He only came back to you not necessarily because he cares about you...

But because he needs you.

It doesn't matter if you refused or not.

Sasuke was going to have you regardless.

This is what begins your time in isolation.

Sasuke wanted to be the only one you interacted with.

Perhaps in his warped mind he hoped you'd accept his actions... that you'd love him.

Aren't you happy he came to you?

You're much better off here with him than Konoha anyways... The people there may just corrupt you.

His views are ironic in that sense.

Sasuke doesn't seem to care about what you think of his actions.

He knows you're rebelling, you never wanted to join his team.

Even when he wants to train with you, you refuse.

Affection? Also met with you hating him.

He's quite used to hatred.

After what he did, it makes sense.

Yet he isn't ever going to let you go.

He was hoping you'd willingly be a runaway with him.

He wants to show you Konoha isn't right for you, your new home is with him.

When he's strong enough, he can protect you.

No one will harm you like they did to him and his brother.

He'll show you he loves you too much for that.

He wishes you'd stop being a brat, though.

Sasuke tries to be patient with you.

As cold as he seems, he really wants you to love him.

Unfortunately it seems that will take a while.

Escaping Sasuke is... difficult.

As expected of an Uchiha and a ninja... He can track you.

He tends to ignore rebellious outbursts.

He's had such moments too... it isn't going to make him let you go now.

If you ever do manage to leave his sight, Sasuke is quick to look for you.

He doesn't stop looking for a moment, either.

He pauses his training, he stops listening to others, and he hunts you.

Do you really think he's going to let you run off on your own like this?

No... You're going to be his no matter what.

Sasuke no doubt will bind you the second he finds you.

He's quick with restraining you during escape attempts, pulling close with a glare in his eyes.

"Don't be an idiot... What has gotten into you?"

Afterwards he'll drag you back with him to where he's currently residing.

Repeat your escape as much as you want... Sasuke will still find you.

The more you do it... The less lenient he'll be.

At some point you'll break, right...?

Now there's the SECOND way I interpreted this request.

Another way I viewed this was you also rebelling from Konoha, which was probably what was ORIGINALLY meant....

In that case, Sasuke is more wary of you.

You either offered to rebel with him, or he found you after he did.

Like usual, he's cold towards you.

Unless you share similar goals, he doesn't want anything to do with you.

... although you two usually find kinship in training and beliefs.

Sasuke wouldn't mind a fellow rebel and would be adamant on adding you to his team.

Eventually you two will see eye to eye, right?

He dislikes Konoha as much as you near the peak of his journey.

You won't need to go back there with him to help you.

How about you both be strong together?

Then, of course, if you want to make it more yandere...

Maybe you want to go back to Konoha?

You've seen the person Sasuke is becoming, a man thirsty for power and vengeance.

You've seen him kill, sacrifice his own team....

You think he only cares about himself.

In reality, Sasuke only cares for you and himself.

He's killed for you, dedicated himself to you, to him you two are meant to be.

Of course, the situation just becomes the previous escape attempt mentioned before.

If you defied Sasuke and tried to run... He may just bind you like before.

Sasuke isn't too keen on giving up what he wants.

He hasn't been mentored by the best people since leaving Konoha.

He's caring, but isn't tolerant of your behavior if you wish to leave him.

Safe to say Sasuke will care for a fellow runaway... He'll do anything for you because he loves you...

But the second you turn your back on him, the second you think he's letting you go back to Konoha regardless of the reason you left it...

He'll drag you back to him, no matter how much power it takes.

He'll show you that you are the only one who matters now, even if you kick and scream.

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

it is not really a shock that this fandom has a bit of a misogyny problem, but i think a specific one is how the boys are often somewhat babied and given all sorts of pity for every single tiny thing they go through, while the girls with similar issues are often ignored entirely. there are many examples of this, but right now, i am going to talk at length about the Tenmas and the Shinonomes in particular, as them being pairs of siblings allows very direct comparison.

firstly, the one that irks me most: Tsukasa Tenma, and how a ridiculous number of his fans will make absolutely everything about him. including Saki's disability. i do think it's right to acknowledge the impact on him as well- but it gets overdramatic really quickly. i'm sorry to be harsh, but Saki did not spend her childhood in and out of hospitals, believing that she was dying, just for half the fandom to completely brush over her trauma and be like "oh... poor, lonely Tsukasa..."

i rather hate this, because not only does it feel quite ableist to skim over the one directly suffering from the condition in order to massively favour someone who happens to feel a bit of the knock-on effect, but it's also used to unreasonably villainise the Tenma parents. people will go on about how "neglected" Tsukasa was... very well, how exactly would you have handled the situation? they did their absolute best. it was a highly unfortunate situation for everyone involved, and it's unfair to deem Mrs and Mr Tenma as "bad parents" simply because they prioritised their dangerously ill daughter over their confident son who always assured them that he'd be alright. yes, they could have made better choices for Tsukasa, such as hiring a babysitter... but i think people tend to forget that Saki's illness flared up very suddenly and randomly. as the good parents the Tenmas are, they very likely couldn't think properly due to their panic for their daughter. it was instinct to drop everything and get her immediate help. and Tsukasa himself understands this, so it's an absolute wonder that the fandom doesn't. he was not ignored. he was phoned, updated on the situation, reassured that his sister was recovering... and praised by his parents for being such a wonderful brother.

also, with the situation of Saki's hospitalisation, i do feel like Tsukasa's own personality is sometimes not taken into account, ironic since it's him that everyone's interested in. because i would, in fact, be more critical of the Tenma parents, had Tsukasa been a more fragile child. if he had been the type who was easily scared, who could not handle being by himself, who would, in fact, have been traumatised from being left alone- i would say that the Tenma parents would have deserved the treatment they get from the fandom. but... that's not Tsukasa. it has been shown that Tsukasa was always a very bright, self-assured boy, positively brimming with confidence. even when little, he was creative and strong- and his parents knew this. they could have some peace of mind during a stressful time, knowing that their son could entertain himself with ease, such as how he was practising some acting just before his mother rang him. all of this is shown within the Dazzling Stage event which is, funnily enough, the very same event that the lovers of Tsukasa angst latch onto.

of course Tsukasa was heavily concerned about Saki. he is an incredibly caring person, why wouldn't he be? and yes, of course he missed her while she was in the hospital. no one is trying to deny that, nor minimise his suffering. the fandom does that to Saki. while acknowledging that Tsukasa was affected is good, in fact, it is very interesting to see the impact of disabilities beyond those directly affected... it's the fact that it is majorly Tsukasa's issues that are focused on that confuses me. it's disproportionate. i do wish we saw just as much sympathy and discussion about Saki herself, in addition to her brother. the psychological impact that her illness and consequential exclusion had on her, as well as the obvious physical aspect. because that is just as interesting, if not potentially more so, and i will be making a future post about it.

moving on from the Tenmas, i'd now like to talk about the Shinonome siblings, in a little less detail, considering i personally have not witnessed the unfairness of their treatment as much as that between the Tenmas. though, make no mistake, it still exists.

now, Ena is a character who i feel has a certain percentage of those who dislike her. and what are the general traits that people point out when asked why they aren't a fan? from what i've seen, it is her anger management issues, past violence, and a general "tsundere" type of personality that earns her this criticism. i'm not saying she does not have any of this. she absolutely does. she is flawed, as good, complex characters should be. though, everything she is despised for... who else regularly displays the exact same traits?

none other than her own brother, Akito. yet the dislike for him, while it is obviously around, does not seem quite as common as hers. a very short and hot temper? check. shows of violence? check. a sometimes harsh way of speaking? check. can sound aggressive and off-putting on occassion? check. Akito and Ena are incredibly similar when it comes to their more negative traits. i suppose it's not a surprise, considering that they were both brought up in the same, questionable environment. though, why does Ena seem to be hated so much more?

most will bring up the very infamous mention of how Ena and Akito's fights would get physical when they were younger. and how this makes Ena an "abuser" because supposedly, as she is the elder one, there was an imbalance in power... but was there really? it is incredibly controversial to say, but i do believe that the violence between them, particularly that which was committed by Ena, is quite exaggerated by fans. and here is where i think that Akito tends to be babied.

Ena was not significantly stronger than Akito. perhaps not ever physically stronger than him at all except when they were literal babies. there is only one year of difference between their ages. in the current day, it is no debate that Akito is one of the strongest characters, regularly going on runs, being able to sprint with Tsukasa on his back, while Ena is quite on the opposite end of the spectrum, preferring the indoors and such. what i am saying is that it is absurd how the fandom makes it seem like Akito was some utterly defenceless little toddler that was getting beaten up by his Big Bad Sister. realistically, he was fully capable of fighting back- and he does. it's hardly as if we see him cower before her. he has absolutely no issue retorting to her in a snarky manner. when people bring up the whole drama of Ena scratching him, they conveniently forget what he says directly afterwards- that he could dodge her attacks. not to mention, sibling fights getting physical and a little violent is incredibly common, take it from me- i am an oldest sister myself. if you call Ena an abuser, you are saying that you want half the older siblings in this world behind bars.

oh, and people will talk until they're blue in the face about how the "nasty" and "crazy" Ena scratched up her brother when they were younger- are we forgetting that Akito punched Toya in the literal main story? that left a massive bruise on his cheek. that isn't talked about nearly as much as some common sibling scrap.

if you can let similar behaviour slide from Akito... how come it is unacceptable from his older sister? who is, arguably, from what has been shown in the story so far... under the greater amount of stress from the tension within their family. it was her that was explicitly discouraged by their father. we haven't seen such conflict between Shinei and his son, have we? that's not to say that Akito's current personality isn't also explained, having grown up in that environment, but why is it that Ena receives so much less sympathy than him when she, understandably, lashes out?

Saki and Ena have both had it rough. in their own, very different, ways. yet, a staggering amount of pity is given, not to them, but to their respective brothers.

and i must, sadly, wonder... if the mere genders of these four characters happened to be swapped and all else remained as it is...

... would the perception of any of them be quite the same?

[treviso-nights]

can you elaborate more on your thought process here?

“in a shocking and completely predictable turn of events, felassan is actually the revolutionary solas thinks he is”

yes! (forewarning: so many ppl on here are actual analytic geniuses and i am 10000% no such thing.)

so, to me, solas thinks of himself as an anti-hero when i would say he's an anti-villain. he reads himself as "tragic" but ultimately thinks of his goal as "good", and will proselytize even the most uninterested party (such as varric, sera, and iron bull) in demeaning and often racist ways (for example, see solas repeatedly calling the qunari "savages" and "brutes" to iron bull's face).

he is quick to abandon, betray, and kill anyone as long as he deems it necessary, and imo, there is a profound lack of loyalty and integrity "true" abolitionists/revolutionary leaders need to possess. after all, despite a lot of people ignoring epler telling us that solas abandoned his army of freed elves (and fine, that's fair since this is all fiction anwyay) bc he realized he wasn't "management material", i personally think it's a perfect characterization of who solas actually is—that of a distorted, warped spirit who no longer resembles his original ideal but attempts to convince himself and those around him that his ultimate purposes are still that ideal... which is why i think felassan is such a nice counterpart to this idea—

bc in veilguard, when we see flashbacks of felassan's growing alarm of solas's disregard for the lives of their soldiers, he is unwilling to part with his friend out of a sense of loyalty and general hope that the ends will justify the means. ironically, i think felassan was saved from corruption by solas entering uthenera because this could've easily led to him forever excusing away solas's actions, just as solas did for mythal for thousands of years.

so now we have felassan, wandering the world and watching it evolve first-hand in a way which the ancient elves did not get a chance to do. idk if we ever got confirmation that he also entered uthenera at some point (if we did, i missed it), but in time, he got to bond with the "modern" elves in an authentic manner which solas decided was counterintuitive after waking (although how he ever thought walking up to a dalish clan and pronouncing his godhood was EVER a good idea is beyond me, tho i forget if that was actually the case or if i'm making that shit up), leading him to come to the conclusion that the elves are actually people after all, which solas could not do without help from the inquisition.

i could keep going, but basically, felassan's capacity to form and experience real friendships (and not rely on abandonment, manipulation, or outright murder as a foundation or last resort for those friendships), TEACH (not convince) those willing to learn (instead of proselytizing), and evolve his own personal perspectives (and then stay ACCOUNTABLE to those perspectives and act in alignment with them), are all antithetical to the actions we see solas take in inquisition, trespasser, and veilguard. only when you trick him in veilguard's ending scene does he begin to understand his own foolishness (tho i have no doubt he will never understand the depth of that foolishness unless he sheds his mortal body and somehow regains his true essence) because even if you choose to redeem him, he ignores rook's/the inquisitor's pleas to just stop until mythal comes out to "release him" from his service. (which i'm sure he would also use to excuse his actions.)

to me, felassan is the archetype of the empathetic, considerate, loyal, and steadfast revolutionary. not solas. his ability to learn, trust others, and take responsibility for his actions are what makes me think so. and i wish we got to see more of him in veilguard :(

[nightscythe]

crimson affliction [three]

→ sanguinius x gn!reader → 3.2k, 18+ mdni, cw: psychological horror/obsession/sacrificial/ suicide mentions. dead dove type thing → pre-heresy, sanguinius’ thirst is different to that of his sons, but it’s far more potent than anything they’d understand 

[prev: two] - part 3/5 // series masterpost

“You promised me.”

You nod, but no words.

“You said you were mine.”

Your chest tightens.

He can’t look at you.

“You didn’t think I’d feel the weight of abandonment.”

He can’t think about anything else.

 “From the one person who mattered to me?”

Days had passed.

Perhaps longer.

Not a sound that carried his presence could be heard. Not even the faintest of whispers in the void beyond reality you tried so hard not to understand.

He’d helped you track the time as it went by before. Now, you were alone.

Not even his soul within reach.

Never did you think loneliness would sting as much as it did. You’d asked for it all this time, begged on your knees for him to let you go. Now he did, and all you could do was wish to have him back. To feel comfort from a presence where blood was frozen beneath your skin, cracked only by the deep-set desire for him to be nearby.

Your location was unknown. You’d run until your legs gave out, climbed until you had no strength, begged others to pass through their gates against their warnings of a bad omen following behind you the entire way.

You were far away from him. From everything.

You grimaced as you stretched your back against the cold brick behind you. A stable, abandoned by a villager on a world you’d forgotten the name of. Your legs still didn’t want to assist you, your arms were shaking, and your hands were useless, twitching every time you tried to grasp something beneath you.

Your ribs ached enough to hide the pain of slow starvation. Ironic, really, that you’d feel what he claimed you caused him. Food hadn’t been part of the plan, and you’d only been spared a cup of water a few towns back. Your throat was dry, your lips cracked and bleeding.

It was hard to care about it.

Hard to feel anything other than pity. Regret. Solace.

He’d killed so many people. For the greater good, of course. Was this what they felt, as death’s embrace fell upon them? When he looked them in the eyes and promised them salvation?

Body letting go, mind silencing for longer each passing minute.

Your head tipped to the side as your eyes fell shut. Reality seemed to pass in waves, shrouded by the bitter dream you held beneath it all.

You could hear his voice somewhere within. It was always there. Burned into your soul as your pulse became heavier in your ears, your heart starting to trip in its own rhythm.

I will never let you die. It was a promise he’d made without thinking. A fear you’d revealed to him in the grace of love. He’d meant so much more by it. He couldn’t let you die.

Yet here you were.

Death knocking at your door, wondering why you hadn’t gathered the strength to open it yet.

You were too busy watching out into the fog of darkness, Sanguinius’ body traversing the haze, eyes never leaving yours.

He’d fight death for you without any contemplation. Just say the words.

I would spend every moment worshipping you. His voice was warm then, laced with the gentleness you loved him for. Your mind crafted the feeling of his hands on your skin, all over you, embracing you in his holiness as if you would break without him. I would spend every moment making you mine.

You told him he was dramatic. Laughed, even. He never returned it. Only held you tighter, looked at you like the fading light of day.

The smile on your lips started to fade.

Heat washed through you as your lungs burned, forcing you to cough something metallic from within. You could feel it in your chest, the sharp pain that clawed its way through to the surface. The wall was the only support you had, even your neck now giving up.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Wonder why he’d loved you.

Wonder why you’d ever let him.

Your hands, limp in your lap, shake from the very thoughts. You force them to dig into your thighs, grabbing onto anything available just for the moment. You can see his eyes again; those crimson things, staring back at you like a warning you never heeded.

Your body jolts. It knows better. It knows the pain he caused.

He loved you too much.

That was all your mind could manage.

Your heart said so much more.

You can’t open your eyes; your energy is focused on talking. You swallow the thick feeling at the back of your throat, pain seething through you again as your voice found purpose, though barely a breath.

“If you can hear me…”

It wasn’t goodbye. It never was with him.

But whatever this was, it was close.

You whisper carefully. “I’m sorry.”

His name isn’t something you can bear.

“I loved you.” You swallow again, forcing the bile in your throat back down each time it threatens you. “I still do. I… always have.”

Your eyes peek open. Half-lidded, cold, barely there. The ceiling seems further away than before.

“I’ve… never stopped.” Your voice trembled. You pull your fingers into your fists like it would stop them shaking, too. “I didn’t want to leave. I never wanted anything but… you.”

You look down at your hands. Fragile things, still unable to keep still. You stretch one hand out and raise it, slowly, the tips of your fingers just grazing your neck.

“I thought you’d let me go.”

You trace the skin where there’s the tiniest of scars, purposefully placed to minimise their harm. He’d kissed you, bitten you, like it was love.

“I thought we could save each other,” you murmur. The scoff your brain tries to add never actualises. “That we’d both be okay if I was strong enough.”

You shouldn’t cry for him, but maybe your tears knew how much he thirsted, that it was worse than you.

It falls down your cheek, your chin, then drips onto your heaving chest. Breathing is harder, the air seems thicker.

“I know you loved me,” you voice gently, words slurring together, “and… you’re no monster.”

You close your eyes again. The light barricades your senses. Your limbs are dead weights. The room you couldn’t see was spinning.

“Don’t be angry. Please.”

You sigh. Breath catches in your throat.

“Don’t embrace your hatred.”

Your heart stutters.

“I know you won’t find someone else.”

Your body was shutting down.

“But please try to…”

Your chest throbs. You wince in response.

“Try to understand, I always…”

You always thought he’d be there at the end.

The thought of him stops you from saying another word.

The thought of him stops you from existing entirely.

Until you feel a warmth that wasn’t present before.

Nothing like expected from the reality you faced.

The stone wasn’t cold, nor hard. Nothing felt real in the way it did before. Warmth from a new source, softness from a lack of knowing.

Your ribs ached, but not in the mind-numbing way they did before, your mind struggling to consider the truth of reality. You could feel your breath shaking through your entire body, cushioned by softness otherwise unknown.

You were scared to open your eyes.

Then you heard the sweetest voice you could be gifted with.

“I know you’d call for me.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You’re slow to look, but when the light hits you, the world bleeds into your focus. Not the same room, but nothing you recognised. Something old. Quiet.

Filled to the brim with his presence, the one you had begged for in death.

Presented to you like the greatest gift man could know.

He kneeled in front of you. Not looking at you, focused on his own hands, palms turned to face the sky like he’d offered something forbidden.

The room was lit well, the dust in the air visible through streaks of golden light. You could see his eyes reflected in his armour, the red hue glowing from his iris, veins beneath the surface visible even in such a state.

Then, a drip.

A stria of blood from his lips to his chin, some pathing down his neck, the other dropping down to his armour and pooling on the metal. It’s not old, it’s not his. It’s fresh but no longer warm.

He’d not even tried to hide it.

Your next breath was halted.

His too.

His wings curled inwards, his golden hair tangled, his body forced into submission by the powers that controlled every aspect of his being.

He couldn’t touch you. He was restraining his own hand from reaching out to you.

Barely breathing, barely existing without you.

Afraid that he’d never have you back again.

Afraid to find out if he’d caused that.

“I knew,” he begins the same way he spoke before. Quietly, like he’d wake her if the words came louder. You’d have thought it a dream if you didn’t see his lips move, too. “I know you’d want me with you again.”

His voice wasn’t broken, yet his demeanour was.

Humanity seeped through his pores and reminded him of what was real for the first time.

“You never wanted to run,” he continues. He smiles somewhere underneath. “You never wanted me to leave.”

He pauses. Never looks away from his hands.

“You don’t mean it.”

He’s hesitant with his hand, allowing himself to reach for your knee, the closest part of your body to him. He hovers over you, tracing the outline of your body up to your chest, never looking up.

“I forgive you,” he confesses. He smiles, this time with more fervour. Your heart betrays you. He freezes. “I could never hate you or spare an ounce of anger in place of love. What a waste it would be, my little muse, my greatest love.”

He exhales. Finally looks from his hand to his side. He reaches his hand to his mouth, carefully wiping the blood from the curve of his jaw with his middle and ring finger.

“I know you understand.” He watches his fingers, the blood glistening in the light. “I know you trust me. I know I can make everything right. You will see that.”

He brings his two fingers to his lips, delicately tasting what remains. He sighs, closing his eyes as the taste enthrals him.

Silence replaces everything.

Until you dare to speak his name, his memory, back into existence.

“Sanguinius.”

It was a breathless plea; one he caught without knowing it was coming. He inhales, sharp, like his mind had taken him far from her to something worse.

He glances up. Eyes alight with the fire of longing, fingers aching from yearning. He wouldn’t cry, not now, but his eyes were glassy.

Your lips open, but he denies you more words. He collapses forward, arms wrapping around you, pulling you into him, never ceasing the moment of love to exist between you.

“You’re alive,” he whispers. He presses his forehead against your own, hands tangling in your hair as he holds you closer. His wings move to shield you from life itself. “You’re alive. You… are alive.”

You try to nod, try to reach your hand to somewhere near his own. You want to run, but you want to embrace him, have him hold you and take you somewhere safe, somewhere life wouldn’t hurt you any longer.

“You came back to me,” he says.

Your hands still shake. He notices, takes your hand in his, holds it tight and shares all the warmth he ever had. You try to reach your fingers around his palm.

“I knew you would come back to me,” he repeats. He presses his lips to yours, dousing your cracked skin in the blood he carried. Your body shivers, the metallic taste not so prevalent anymore. “I knew you would be okay, my love.”

He kisses you again, softer this time. When he pulls away, your eyes fall to the smudged blood that decorates him. You see the way his tongue darts out, just a little, to savour the taste. It wasn’t his. Too sweet, too easy.

He doesn’t let you reach for your neck. He clasps both hands in his own and makes you ask.

“You found me?”

He smiles fondly. Like you should be grateful. “I saved you.”

“What…” you stop yourself as your gaze shifts away from his eyes momentarily. He never changes. He’s almost proud. “What did you do?”

He takes both your hands between his, leaning back on his knees so he can watch over you. His wings frame his side, like the guardian he thought himself to be. “I could not let anything happen to you. It’s unforgivable. If anything happened to you, I’d…”

He looks at you. Stops. Eyes are glassy once again.

His breath trembles, his lips part. He says nothing.

He falls to you one more time, embracing you against him, cradling your body like it was no longer your own.

“No more of this,” he tells you. His hand supports the back of your head as your head falls into his shoulder. Your arms, depleted and cold, reach around him like it was the natural order, betraying you in the worst way. “No more suffering. No more running.”

The crush of his embrace stops your words. Your lungs are never allowed to replenish.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, so gently as he pulls back, never leaving more than an inch between you both. “You’ve returned to me for good.

His fingers tremble against you, drumming as though they miss the feel of your pulse against them. The divine affliction, the crimson rot within, had eroded past what he could understand as right and wrong.

When you breathe, he falls into a trance. When you swallow, he’s watching you like prey. When you try to pull him back to you, his eyes glow.

“You don’t have to be afraid.” His hold on you tightens, just enough to make sure you can’t run. “Please don’t shake. Please don’t think of another negative. I will make everything better. I’ll change everything. You’ll see.”

Your heart is racing. You try to snap his attention away. “Sanguinius…”

“You’ll be okay,” he interrupts. He smiles, though not an ounce of calm remains. “I know it was a mistake. You didn’t mean to break me.”

He closes his eyes. Exhales, slowly.

“You didn’t know… what it would do to me.”

When he looks at you, the feeling has changed.

He’s been replaced, his fire extinguished, soul dampened.

“You don’t know what it’s like to have everything and it still not be enough.” He whimpers, tries to hide it behind a laugh. Restrained from anything further. “You don’t know how I searched for you. How I need more of you, in every way.”

You can’t meet his eyes when he says it.

He notices. His smile fades.

Your heart still races.

“You still don’t understand.” He never gives you the distance you need in return. Never wonders why. “You think I would bring you harm.”

You can’t answer.

“You said…” he pauses, recounting the scene in his head as his eyes flicker closed. He nods to himself when he remembers. “You told me you’d love through anything. That you still love me.”

“I do,” you whisper. He doesn’t respond. You try again, louder. “I do. I love you.”

He hums. Scoffs, even. Never soothed by what you offer, his voice succumbed to the embers of fury that lay dormant in his soul. “You told me you would never be afraid of what I am.”

“I’m… I’m not afraid.”

“You told me you would stay.” He speaks louder with each passing word. “You told me you would never leave.”

“I…”

“You ran.” His rage sits on the edge of surprise. He’s pained by his own tone, conflicted within. “Why would you run if all of that were true?”

Your mouth is dry. He cups your cheeks with his hands, holding you as complete perfection.

“You promised me.”

You nod, but no words.

“You said you were mine.”

Your chest tightens.

“Yet you ran,” he finishes. He chokes on his breath, shoulders twitching as he pulls his hands from your face. “You didn’t think that it would hurt me.”

He can’t look at you.

“You didn’t think I’d feel the weight of abandonment.”

He can’t think about anything else.

 “From the one person who mattered to me?”

Your breath hitches. “I couldn’t…”

He places your hand over your mouth. Calmly, gently. Never pressuring you, only keeping the truth from spilling over.

“Don’t say it.”

You nod.

“I know it isn’t true. You said yes to me. You allowed me in.”

Your lips tremble beneath his touch. He pulls his hand away, scowling at his own hand. He breathes deeply before leaning back to you one more time, grasping your hand in his with no intention to let go.

“No one will ever hurt you, or harm you, or even touch you. I wouldn’t let them,” he promises you. He brings your hand up to his face, kissing your knuckles gently, a seal to his oath. “No one will ever take you from me.”

You can’t bear to look away from him, fearful to break him again.

“I found you because I was meant to.”

His smile is hopeful. A shiver runs down your spine.

“I had to save you. I was meant to save you every time. We are not destined to be apart. Look what happens when we aren’t together? Look at what happens when you try to challenge fate?”

He leans closer, slower now. Press his lips to your forehead, then to each of your cheeks and finally to your lips. Leaves the faded, bloodied stain of him behind in his wake.

“Say it again,” he pleads. “Tell me you love me again.”

You shouldn’t hesitate as long as you did. He’s too lost to notice.

“…I love you.”

He huffs cheerfully, smiling wider than before. He rests his forehead against yours once more as he sinks into the feeling, the aftermath of words that could have been said without any meaning.

All that mattered was that he believed.

“I would end every life in the galaxy for one more day of your love.”

“You don’t…” Your words fade. He’s not listening. Not really. Trying felt like a necessity. “You already have it.”

He nods. Your words sink through him. “Let’s go home, my love.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“You’ll be safe,” he continues, pulling away so easily, detaching from your fear. “Nothing will harm you there. Ever.”

“That…”

“You can rest,” he interrupts once again, preventing the words he’s afraid to hear, stopping any protest with aid from your weakness. “You’ll feel better soon. I can promise you that. I won’t leave your side until then.”

It’s not as if you can fight him.

He picks you up, a feather to him, unburdened by anything related to you. Holds you in his arms and lulls you back to rest with your head on his shoulder.

“No more fears.” He holds you so tight. So hot. “Nothing can take you from me again.”

You can hear his footsteps, the heavy door closing behind him, the faded lights of familiarity that made you question whether you had never even been away from home to begin with.

You hear his voice again as slumber consumes you.

A threat, a scare, a promise, a declaration of love.

“I missed you, little lamb.”

whenever i write this i get super distracted by other ideas for magnus and fulgrim, and i try to do their prologues and this drags me back again. i'm hoping to get their prologues done soon anyway, so at least you know the flavour; still glad i wrote this one first of the three though. its somehow not as clinical as the others.

[polarspaz]

Was rereading the Knowing Too Much AU (eldritch batfam beloved), and realized that since Barbara's aspect is knowledge does that mean she's the third to figure it out? Maybe after the Cave Incident where everyone's trying to undo the "curse" Tim is under. She wants to know what happened to him, she wants to know why, she wants to know how, she wants to know if she can fix it. And then she stumbles upon his research, and figures out what's really going on. And she changes. (It's not a curse, it's so much worse...)

You are correct! Barbra is the third one to figure out what's really going on. But I'm trying to decided wither or not she tells Tim she knows. Telling Tim might devastate him, as he's clearly been trying to keep this thing suppressed in anyway possible, and telling him could also actually make things even worse.

The less people know about this mess, the better.

I also updated the positive/negative powers for the EldritchFamily

-Tim/Aspect Hope = Power/Teleportation. Tim can create a portal to anywhere, and innately knows where any object or person is. The entity however forces Tim to drag people back to Gotham, wither they want to return or not. Tim is essentially the chain that keeps them tied to city

-Bruce/Aspect Justice = Power/Shadow manipulation. Bruce can warp shadows and make them physical. He can also melt into shadows and use them to travel anywhere there is a patch of darkness. He can also lurk in these spots and spy on people if he wishes. The entity however has a good deal of influence on Bruce and can tamper with his personalty, making him more extreme in his crusade or suppress his emotions.

-Dick/Aspect Humanity = Power/Empathy. Dick can amplify people's positive emotions, like love, happiness, and compassion. His power helps the family retain their humanity, boosts their powers, it can also help compel villains to do good deeds. The negative part to his power though is that the entity will make Dick inject negative emotions into villains, making them even more deranged and violent.

-Jason/Aspect Rebirth = Power/resurrection. Jason's power is the most OP and ironically the most simplistic, he can bring people back to life. The downside? The entity makes him bring back villains too, especially the Joker.

-Cassandra/Aspect Secrets = Power/Invisibility. If Cassandra doesn’t want to be found or suspected, she will never be seen or thought of again until she desires it. She can also turn herself or anything she wants completely invisible, even to technology and the senses, meaning you can't track her through smell or sound either. The entity forces her to hide objects or people that could help the family rebel against it. ((She never remembers doing this either, so she can't just cheat and tell where the shit is lol))

Barbra/Aspect Knowledge = Power…Knowledge lol. If Barbra wants to know something, she will always find the answer to it. She remembers EVERYTHING and instantly understands any complex idea or problem that comes before her. However, whatever she learns, she must share that same knowledge with the entity, meaning whatever she knows, the entity knows too.

Also here's some others who are affected by the entity.

Alfred/Aspect Loyalty. Jim Gordon/Aspect Diligence. Damian/Aspect Redemption. Joker /Aspect Chaos. Catwoman Aspect/Desire. Stephanie /Aspect Mischief.

[marisandini-chu-blog]

EPISODE 4 TBHX LET'S GO!!!!!

A quick word before we begin; just to establish my mindset and expectation as I watch this. Particularly about the Trust Value.

I've mention this before in previous posts how there's nothing wrong with Heroism; the desire to be popular and notice, with the performance that comes with it.

Image is important. Image is a tool. Heroism push people to do good, even with shallow intention, and the people who receive help would not have cared if they were genuine or not.

There is good in heroism the same way there is good in being able to enjoy a good music from an artist we love. Excited for youtubers making content to teach and spread joy in a community they establish. For TV personalities be able to spread good message and bring awareness for people to come together and point their energy for a good cause.

It's not always vain in wanting to be popular.

Which is why it becomes a problem when a capitalist system tries to monetize a virtue. When people enable a toxic culture without calling them out. When trust becomes a cage.

So I'm looking forward to Lin Ling's finale and the conclusion of his arc; will he change or will the system change?

Will Lin Ling put trust on the people who still relies on him? Vise versa, will the people keep their trust even when his image has change?

Now... let's begin.

Of course God Eye aim his attack the moment Nice is at the Top 10. That petty bitch

"The Moon has to be a played actor" Oh no... I feel called out

God Eye, you want to show reality to the world and yet you're denying your own truth; which is that you are a petty bitch

WHAT THE FUCK?! HE CAN'T LEAVE?!

God, I wish I had save the post, but there was someome who mention how the Trust Value makes a hero's body a cage while their mind is still free — this fits with how Nice's body doesn't want to go outside but his mind wrestle to save Moon

Oh God, I don't know how to feel about this. Maybe I am bias, but I would feel terrible if my trust and faith is taking his free will away — and we've seen how the people would rather have the hero save people than their image in the previous episode. There's definitely people who want Nice to save Xiao Yueqing, but they're drown out by the majority

MISS J YOU'RE NOT JUST ERASING MOON'S MEMORIES, YOU'RE ERASING LIN LING'S VERY EXISTENCE WITH THAT CHOICE! NOOOOOOOOOO!

Urgh, this is why I hate God Eye's whole schick. He's basically a papparrazi trying to create the next buzz even at the expense of someone

Ooooooh, I like how God Eye is not just changing the Public's perception of him. But also the Blaster's perception of himself and the animation SHOWS!

YEAH, LIN LING! YOU'RE NOT NICE! GO BE A HERO!

Hoooooooly?! I didn't think Lin Ling is gonna reveal all the truth?

You know what's ironic? As easy as it is to break people's trust, It's not that hard to gain their trust

A youtuber named Aliciaxlife (check her out, she's great) also react to this. And one of the things she shared was at the start, she creates a persona for the public that becomes stiffling overtime. When she decides to break it and be more genuine (read: meaner😆), her views plummeted for a while before it rise back up

So even though it's over dramatic, hasten and simplified – this kind of stuff does happen. That if you're willing to be genuine and spoke out for the right thing, people will always root for justice

Lin Ling's fight is sooooo ugly, I LIVE FOR IT!!!

Okay, so Lin Ling shootingup into Top 10 level is a bit of a strech, ngl. There should be a lot of people scrutinizing

I FUCKING KNEW SHE WAS FAKE!!!

Okay, having people who fakes things get faster gratification can be annoying. At that point, I can understand God Eye's perspective

God Eye could actually make a good point if he decided to put all that energy to be less annoying a better version of himself instead of tearing other people down.

For someone who begrudge a hero who fakes himself, he seems too surprise at seeing the truth push Lin Ling stronger. Maybe perhaps people fake themselves because people like you who likes to pull people down with the truth? Ever think of that, God Eye?

THE COMMONER?! FUCKING COMMONER? WHO THE HELL IS COMING UP WITH THE LAME ASS NAMES? FIRM MAN IS BAD ENOUGH ALREADY!

Xiao Yueqing becoming a hermit is not what I expected from her

WTF?! SHE ACCIDENTALLY PUT HERSELF IN AN ABANDON ISLAND?! I SHOULDN'T LAUGH BUT GIRRRRRLLLL!!!!

It fits her character though. Of course she jumps and didn't think twice

The definition of be careful what you wish for

Lin Ling, I don't know how you work that teleporter gun, and I don't care to know. Just get her out of this island, I think she has enough...

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

I heard about Director Li's reputation but...

WHAT THE FUCK?!

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

AFTER AN ENTIRE EPISODE DEDICATE TO NOT LET HER BE AN ACCESSORY TO A HERO - YOU FRIDGE HER?!?!?!

The worst part is? I can't even hate it! WE'VE BEEN WARNED FROM THE FIRST EPISODE!!!

Episode 3 React

[kaialone]

Guilty Gear Xrd Series Official Artworks- Short Story "The Reminiscent Gale" (English Translation)

This will be a full English translation of the short story "The Reminiscent Gale" (JPN title: 追憶の疾風)

It’s the third out of three new short stories written to be included in "Guilty Gear Xrd Series Official Artworks"- an artbook released in October 2024, containing concept art for all three main versions of Guilty Gear Xrd.

The specific author(s) of these short stories have not been revealed, but it's been indicated that they were in-house staff of Arc System Works.

--

The Reminiscent Gale

The "wall".

It's not one of the iron fences that might surround you, or some hardened gang of thugs.

But surviving in this harsh environment for sixteen years? That's one "wall" you'll find yourself facing, no matter what.

It may be called by many names, but even in the town where the boy grew up, people knew the "Wall of Sixteen".

The boy possessed extraordinary intellect, allowing him to quickly understand the reality of this. He mastered the art of living in the shadows, and cleared the wall with ease.

—

Countless shadows fell to the ground, and a mob eagerly pecked away at them like a wake of vultures.

One shadow found himself completely unable to move. There was a man, gently whispering to him, keeping both of them out of sight.

"Don't worry, I won't bite. You get it, don't you?"

"E-eek…"

"See, we just wanna get along, too. So, how about you show us some sincerity?"

"G-got it, I'm sorry, please forgive…"

Before he could finish his sentence, the larger man had passed out from fear. As the other let go of his collar, he heard someone call his name.

"Hey, Answer. How's it going over there?"

It seemed his fellow slum residents had finished their "work" early.

"Done already, Martin? Well, same here. Doubt they'll try anything else after this."

"Hmph, sure hope they learned their lesson."

"If they didn't, we'll just pay them back in kind. Anyway, we're leaving!"

Following Answer's command, everyone withdrew. Since it was a struggle just to make it through each passing day, their group always stuck together closely. As a result, their bond had grown stronger than blood.

And for Answer, the very act of protecting them was his sole purpose in this hell.

…Until he met a certain man.

—

"Alpha Blade!!"

"Gaaaargh!!"

A man who could only be described as bizarre, calling himself a ninja. Answer happened to be familiar with the concept of a "ninja". And this man, who'd appeared like a gale of wind, looked nothing like one.

"Wh- What's with this guy… Is he crazy?!"

"He's so fast… Gaargh!"

"Hey, Answer! You gotta help us!!"

"Martin! Harold! Keith! Damn it, what the hell's going on?!"

This guy just started preaching to them out of the blue, claiming he would make the world a better place. It was more than enough to set off Answer and his cohorts.

So, they decided to rough him up a bit, figuring it wouldn't take much to make him cry and beg them for forgiveness. Instead, they were now the ones falling to the ground, one after the other.

Inexplicable techniques, incomprehensible speed. Swirling echoes of angry shouts, instantly silenced by an unseen blade.

And mere moments later, only two shadows were left standing… The man who called himself a ninja, and Answer.

"…What's with that stupid-ass get-up? Don't you know who you're messin' with?"

"Hmph. You're talking a lotta smack… considering you don't even know about the most lethal of Japanese weapons—the shinobi!"

"Th- That's it, you're dead…!"

It didn't make any sense. How could the home he wished to protect, his family, just be trampled like that?

For Answer, it was like everything he'd done up until this point was being rendered null and void. He had to fight back. With nothing but that single thought in his mind, he stood up to the man before him.

—

"You're actually tougher than I thought you'd be. What's your name?"

Even as Answer was lying on the ground, the self-proclaimed ninja continued to speak to him with the exact same tone as before.

It took great effort to even move his head, but he still turned to glare at him, and a completely genuine question escaped his lips.

"…Seriously, what the hell's your problem? If it's money you want…"

"What I want is your name. Even if you grew up on the streets, you gotta at least have one of those, right?"

"…It's Answer."

"Answer, huh? That's a fine name. Hey, you should help me become president."

"…What?"

"I bet you'd make for a pretty good ninja."

What is he on about? Did I really just lose to an actual nutcase…?

It took the full capacity of his brain to even come up with a follow-up question.

"Why… president?"

"Like I said, I wanna make the world a better place. That's why I'm hard at work to get folks to vote for me, obviously."

"Vote? You're telling me you're running for office?"

"Running for what?"

Now his anger started giving way to sadness. Even the little brats around these parts knew their place better than this guy.

"You really gonna waste your time with scum like us? If you wanna make the world right, you gotta use your head a little more."

"Don't be silly! Being a ninja isn't just about your head, you gotta train your mind and body, too. And even I used to be a… Well, I guess it doesn't really matter. Tell me, are you okay with the way things are right now?

"…Am I what?"

"Like, trying so hard and just barely surviving. 'Grin and bear it', and all that. You gonna keep doing this forever?"

"…Don't you make fun of me. What do you know? Every single day I see things in this garbage dump that I wish I hadn't. They're forever seared into my mind."

All the things they'd done. Telling themselves that they had to, in order to survive. And all the faces that followed along.

Faces of his family, contorted with pain. Faces of his comrades as they breathed their last. Faces of those damn hypocrites that made him want to puke. Faces, faces, faces…

"There's nothin' good about living like this, but you gotta do it if you wanna protect people! I don't need some well-off asshole without a care in the world showin' up to spout hollow bullcrap and tell me what to do!"

After his outburst, he realized he'd completely forgotten to breathe. A sharp pain filled his lungs, and he was starting to feel dizzy. Probably from the lack of oxygen.

Having kept quiet so far, the man before him sighed deeply, and looked Answer straight in the eye as he spoke.

"I dunno what kinda things you've been dealing with up until today. But, the things you're dealing with right now? I'll carry those for you. So, become a ninja, and help me become president."

"Are you shitting me?! The hell are you gonna do, jackass?! An outsider like you got no business in this shithole!"

"I'm gonna change this shithole."

"…Huh?"

"I'm gonna talk to everyone here and tell them to vote for me. That way they'll all agree to make me president. And presto! We'll have a safe and secure country."

"…"

"Well, there's probably gonna be folks like you who aren't gonna listen. I'll still talk to those guys though, even if I gotta beat them up, too."

"…"

"Oh shoot, our country's gonna need a name then, huh? It's probably better to keep it simple, so how about 'Shinobi Kingdom'? What do you think, Answer?"

"…Hah… Hahaha…"

The corners of his mouth curled up all on their own. He could practically hear the sound of his brain cells blowing out.

This guy was the real deal. His instincts told him so.

"Y'know…"

As he sat up and regained his balance, something caught his eye.

The barrel of a gun, hidden in the shadows behind the ninja, pointed in their direction. It was Martin.

In that instant, two options flashed through Answer's mind.

The first was to just let the crazy ninja die.

And then continue living this shitty life for the rest of his days.

The second was…

"Watch out, dumbass!"

Not quite what you're supposed to say when you're saving someone.

—

"I must say, I did not expect you to actually kick everyone's butt and then talk with them."

"A ninja never lies. Good thing you trusted me, huh?"

"Indeed. Well, in hindsight."

"…By the way, Answer. Shouldn't you first practice your ninja skills instead of how to talk all stiff like that?"

"Oh, quit your bellyaching, would you? Seeing as you are quite unreliable, I have no choice but to rely on anything else available to lay the proper groundwork for us, Boss. Really, you should be on your knees and profess your gratitude towards me."

"Oh yeah, about that 'Boss' thing! I told you to call me 'Okashira'! Martin and the others get it right." (1)

"Yes. Yes, you did tell me. My humblest apologies."

"Plus, there's your look. If you were just a tad more… you know, like an actual ninja, it'd be perfect."

"Aaaarrrrgh! Will you shut up already, you moron?! Ah, shit, a call. Hello, yes, this is Answer! Yes, thank you for the other day- Oh no, we pride ourselves on dedication and sincerity…"

--

Translation Note:

(1) What happens here is that Answer refers to Chipp with the actual English word "boss". This is fairly common in Japanese pop culture for this sort of character context. Of course, Chipp being the way he is, insists on being called "okashira" instead, a Japanese word that can be translated as "boss".

It's also spelled in katakana as "オカシラ" when Chipp says it, rather than the more conventional kanji/hiragana spellings, which—long story short—is a visual indicator showing that Chipp is literally saying the word as "okashira", even if in-universe these characters are likely supposed to be speaking English to each other.

Because of this, I left the word untranslated here, as that seems to be the intent.

There's one more thing to note about this, however.

By the time of Guilty Gear Xrd itself, Answer actually does consistently refer to Chipp as "okashira". But now Chipp wants to be called "president" instead, making the "okashira" bit from this short story intentionally ironic.

This only goes for the original Japanese script though, since Chipp's "okashira" title was just translated as "boss", or sometimes "my lord" in the English localization of Xrd.

So, if you're only familiar with the English script, you don't really get the full context of this bit, which is why I wanted to explain it here.

--

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 5 - Knifeplay

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : Hey guys ! Happy Halloween to those of you who celebrate 👀. Here is what I wrote for the Knifeplay prompt ! It was inspired by that one Ask I got a while ago. I hope you enjoy it 😏

CW : DID - Slim Shady alter - Knifeplay - Jealousy

Marshall stared at the lake, its surface calm under the late afternoon sun, an ironic contrast to the storm twisting inside his chest. This weekend was supposed to be a step forward, a chance to show you that he could be the partner you deserved, that he could put you first for once. He knew being his girlfriend wasn’t easy, what with all the walls and boundaries he had built up over the years, and he was more than grateful that you stuck around, in spite of all the frustration you sometimes felt. Now, you had never been stupid enough to think that being Eminem’s girlfriend would be all fun and games. Sure, there were perks, like getting some previews of music he’d been working on, or him being able to treat you to sweet gifts and flowers on the regular. But deep down, both of you knew that some of these attentions weren’t exactly selfless, that they were nothing but an attempt to make up for all the things he wasn’t able to give you. To his credit, Marshall did his best to accommodate you and keep you happy. He was a good boyfriend, caring and affectionate, and he understood just how frustrating it was that he didn’t take you places or claim you publicly. As nice and understanding as you were, he also knew that you wished for more commitment, too. After all, it wasn’t exactly stupid to want to move in with your partner after two years of dating, and he couldn’t blame you. 

However, the rules were the rules and he was adamant that they be kept in place. No spending more than one night at each other’s place, and no moving in together. Ever. In the early stages of your relationship, he had played it cool, as if he were distant but, eventually, you had come to understand that there was more to it. After a while, he told you the truth : yes, he had trauma and he had built walls, but that wasn’t all of it. These walls and boundaries weren’t just for him. They were meant to keep you safe, too. When he first mentioned Slim, you thought he was taking the « alter ego » thing a little further but he clarified the situation for you : Slim was not just some artistic project. He was an actual person, a part of him. His alter. A distinct identity that shared his body, with its own personality and memories. He had tried to break it down for you explaining what dissociative identity disorder was, that it was a result of early childhood trauma and that Slim had emerged as a protective figure. They called it a « minimal system ». Most people with DID tend to have more alters but, in his case, it was just him and Slim. 

You had never met Slim and he intended to keep it that way. At the ripe age of 52, he had been alive and diagnosed long enough to know the damage Slim could cause. Sure, getting sober had helped keep him under control, but he didn’t trust him. Especially not around you. You were far too precious for him to take the risk of letting Slim ruin what you had, the beautiful relationship you had created. Hence the rules and his insistence on respecting them. However, you had been so sad, lately, that he wanted to cheer you up. And when you told him you needed more, that the only thing he could do to make things better would be to spend some actual time together, he ended up caving in. After all, Slim had not fronted in quite some time, and things were good between the two of you. So the probabilities that something wrong happened were quite low at the moment. He decided to indulge you and plan a romantic weekend not too far from home, taking you to his lake house. 

Yet, now that you were here, under the same roof for an extended time period, those familiar coils of anxiety tightened, making every breath a little harder, his thoughts jumpy and spiraling. Slim’s presence had quieted over the years, , but the more he felt for you, the more Slim became this lurking possibility. Slim was the hurt, the anger, the guy who fought back, and as much as Marshall cared for you, Slim didn’t trust you—or anyone else—to stay without hurting him. He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts aside as he washed a glass, hearing your soft laughter from the next room. He wanted this. He wanted to trust you. But that fear of Slim surfacing, of ruining what he had built, gnawed at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch. You deserved someone whole. But for her, he was willing to try. “Just keep it together, man,” he muttered to himself. You had stepped out to the dock for a bit, giving him a moment alone, and he’d almost relaxed, enough to breathe. But then he heard your phone chime on the counter beside him. The screen flashed with a notification from someone he didn’t recognize. It was just a message, innocent, probably nothing. But something about it twisted inside his mind, a taunting reminder of the betrayals he’d faced before, the people who’d let him down just when he’d let his guard down. He’d been cheated on and betrayed before. And Slim had been the one to pick up the pieces. 

The familiar cold slither crept up his spine. Slim. Before he knew it, that tense grip loosened, and the whole world around him shifted. Slim was fronting.

When you returned to the house, there was a lightness in your eyes. It had taken two years for Marshall to take you on a romantic getaway, and you were enjoying every second of it. Far from home, in the serenity of his secluded lake house, you were feeling at peace. As you kicked off your shoes by the door, you lovingly glanced at him. However, you quickly noticed that something was off. The way he was standing, holding himself seemed… different. There was something darker, more menacing about him, in the way he was leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed, his gaze hard and unyielding. You could see his mouth twitch into a smirk that was all but friendly. 

"Marshall?" you asked, your voice tentative, but you knew the answer before you even asked. Something in his stance, the dangerous intensity of his gaze, screamed Slim. Or, at least, the idea that you had of him, based on the description offered by Marshall.  He laughed, low and sharp, the sound echoing in the small room. "Marshall? Nah, baby. He’s… busy right now," he said, voice laced with contempt, eyes narrowing as he looked you over. There was an edge to him, a palpable threat that sent chills down your spine.

“Thought I’d fall for it?” Slim hissed, voice dripping with a venom you had never heard before. “Playing all sweet, acting like you’re different. Like you’d ever get him, really get him.” He took a step closer, his eyes dark and fierce, locking onto you with the intensity of a predator sizing up his prey.Your instincts were screaming for you to back away, to put distance between yourself and this stranger wearing Marshall’s face, but you held your ground. You knew this was part of him, knew the pain he carried, and despite the rush of fear coursing through you, you held his gaze.

“Slim,” you said, voice steady despite the trembling of your hands. “I know you’re just trying to protect him.” At that, Slim’s face twisted, and he laughed sharply, a humorless, biting sound. “Protect him? Protecting him means keeping you out.” In a flash, he grabbed the kitchen knife off the counter, the cold steel glinting as he held it up between the two of you. Your heart raced, and you pressed yourself back against the wall, body tensing as he moved closer, the tip of the knife grazing your skin. “You think you’re something special, huh? Like you’ll last?”.  He pinned you there, his free hand pressed against the wall beside you, keeping you locked in place as his dark gaze bore into yours. The anger radiating off him was electric, a force you could feel thrumming in the air between them.

“I know you’re scared, Slim,” you whispered, your voice still steady. You tried to ignore the way your breath hitched, the adrenaline making your heart beat so loudly you thought he could hear it. “I know you think you have to protect him. But I’m not here to hurt him. Or you.” For a second, the aggression in his stance wavered, his grip on the knife loosening slightly as his eyes flashed with something raw and unfiltered. But just as quickly, he shook his head, a sneer curling his lips. “You think it’s that easy?” he hissed, pressing a little closer, the blade still poised between the two of you.

Slim’s eyes blazed as he stared down at you, the tension thick in the air between you, knife gleaming dangerously close to your throat. “You don’t get it, do you?” he spat, voice a low, venomous rasp. “I’m here to make sure nobody hurts him again. Not now, not ever. And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect him.” His grip on the knife tightened, but he never crossed that line into true harm. “I’ve never had to hurt anyone bad enough to get the message across,” he continued, eyes narrowing. “But if I have to, I will. Happily.” Your heart pounded, adrenaline flooding your system, and despite the danger, or maybe because of it, a strange thrill twisted low in your stomach. You had never felt this kind of fear—or excitement. Slim’s intensity, his protectiveness, and the gleam of the blade caught the deepest parts of you off guard. Your gaze lingered on the knife, your chest rising and falling with each shaky breath, and you knew he noticed.

Slim’s eyes sharpened as he caught your reaction, his smirk returning with a dark amusement. “Really?” he taunted, a glint of something new in his expression. “You’re a freak, aren’t you? Getting all hot and bothered over a knife?”. Heat flushed your cheeks, but you didn’t look away. If anything, you felt herself drawn in deeper by his dark gaze, the thrill of his proximity. You knew it wasn’t exactly Marshall you were looking at, but they did share a body, and he was still incredibly attractive. You had always loved his warmth, his kindness. But Slim’s temper, the danger it had to it, was a different kind of attraction. “Maybe,” you murmured, voice soft but unwavering. You knew better than to deny it; there was something about this raw, protective side of him that drew her in, just as much as Marshall’s gentleness did. If anything, it meant that Slim loved Marshall as much as you did. 

He raised an eyebrow, chuckling lowly. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmured, leaning in just enough that his breath ghosted over your skin. “Maybe you’re not as weak as I thought. Maybe you really can handle this.” His hand shifted, pressing the blade just lightly enough against your throat to remind you of its presence, to push the line between danger and control. “We need someone who won’t be scared,” he murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly whisper. “Someone who can take me just as much as they can take him.” Your pulse quickened, but you held his gaze, refusing to back down. “I’m not scared of you, Slim,” you said, your voice steady, eyes bright with both fear and thrill. “I can handle you.”

That was all it took for Slim to close the gap between you, his lips crashing onto yours in a fierce, bruising kiss, his free hand gripping your waist with a possessiveness that was rougher, hungrier than anything you had ever felt with Marshall. He moved with a raw intensity, a desperation almost, as though testing your resolve, pushing your limits. And you met him with equal fervor, embracing the dark, powerful energy he radiated. The cold steel of the knife on you was possessive and firm, as he pulled you closer, pinning you against him, as though he wanted to devour you completely, to test every limit. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a low rasp, both mocking and appreciative. He looked at you with something raw, a flicker of respect mingled with a dark desire. “Maybe you’re worth more than I thought.” But even as Slim’s rough, hungry kiss pressed you to the edge of your senses, you could feel hints of Marshall beneath the surface—the softness in the way he cradled your head, the familiar tilt of his head as he deepened the kiss. It was Marshall you loved, yet in Slim, you could see all those broken pieces, the fragments of him he kept locked away.

The intensity of the moment blurred your sense of time, lost in the way Slim held you, kissed you, made you feel alive in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. But then, in a flash, his grip softened, his lips pulling away as he blinked, looking around as though waking from a nightmare. Marshall was back.

He looked down at his hand, still gripping the knife near your throat, and his eyes widened in horror, the color draining from his face. He dropped the knife as if it had burned him, stumbling back, his breaths ragged and shallow.

“Oh God, Babe—” His voice was a strangled whisper, trembling as he took another step back. “What… what did I do? I didn’t mean-…Oh my God…” He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze darting from you to the knife, to the place he had just been, with no memory of what had just happened, only the knowledge that he had held a knife to you and the terror that he might have hurt the woman he loved.

Marshall’s hands shook as he looked from the knife  to you, horror contorting his expression. He could barely process the scene that had just unfolded—the knife, the intensity, the awareness of Slim's presence so close to you. And that he had been the one holding it—that thought alone made his stomach churn. “Babe…” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw with anguish. “I could’ve… I could’ve hurt you.” His breaths came in shallow, frantic gasps, and he ran a hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut. “You need to leave. Now.” You took a step toward him, but he shook his head, stumbling back as if the sight of you near him only twisted the knife of his guilt deeper. “Don’t come closer. Please. I can’t—I can’t risk it, not after this. I don’t trust myself. I don’t… I don’t trust him.” His words broke your heart. There was nothing you wanted more than to show him that you were alright, that Slim had not harmed you. 

“Marshall.” Your voice was calm, steady, a soft anchor in the whirlwind of his panic. “I’m okay. I’m right here. I’m not hurt.” He opened his eyes, and they were red, glossy with a frantic kind of pain. “I can’t let you risk it,” he said, his voice breaking. “You don’t understand—Slim, he could hurt you. I thought I could control it, but I don’t know if I can. Not around you. I love you too much to risk it. Please, you have to go.” But you stepped closer, ignoring the way his body flinched, determined to close the gap between the two of you. You reached out, taking his trembling hands in yours, grounding him in your warmth. “I’m not going anywhere, Marshall,” you said softly. “I see you—all of you. And none of it scares me. I know you, and I know you’d never truly hurt me.” His hands shook harder, the guilt and disbelief warring in his eyes. “You don’t get it,” he choked out, staring at your joined hands as though afraid to accept your touch. “I thought that too, but-. I’m not worth the risk anyway.”

You tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at you, your eyes gentle but resolute. “Marshall, I see you,” you repeated, your voice unwavering. “Every part of you. Slim too. And I’m not afraid.” He searched your face, as if desperately trying to find some hint of fear, a reason to pull away. But all he could see was your unshaken gaze, your steady presence, a strength he hadn’t expected but needed so deeply. His breath hitched, the remnants of his panic still hovering, but your words sank into him, easing the frantic beat of his heart. “Nothing will drive me away,” she whispered, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Slim had the opportunity to hurt me but he didn’t. If anything… He might actually like me.”

His expression softened, the fear giving way to a fragile kind of hope, and he let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging as he absorbed your words. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his grip tentative at first but growing as he leaned into it, letting go of the guilt that had weighed him down. However, the relief Marshall felt in your arms was short-lived, giving way to an unsettling, creeping feeling. You hadn’t flinched. You’d looked him straight in the eyes, not with fear but with something else—something bolder, fiercer. He pulled back just enough to search your face, piecing together fragments of their brief, hazy conversation. His mind replayed those last few moments and he felt his stomach tighten, a bitter taste creeping into his mouth.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice barely audible, laced with a suspicion he didn’t want to acknowledge. “When I was… gone—did Slim…? What did he do ?” He couldn’t finish, his words halting as he scanned your expression, looking for answers he wasn’t sure he wanted. Your eyes flickered with a hesitant vulnerability, your cheeks flushing as you bit your lip, unable to meet his gaze. You swallowed, then nodded, just slightly. “He… yeah. We kissed,” you admitted softly, your tone cautious, trying to gauge his reaction.

Marshall’s heart stuttered, the ground seeming to drop beneath him. A pang of jealousy and anger twisted in his chest, sharp and unexpected. He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he took a shaky step back. “You made out with him?” he demanded, his voice low and tense. “With Slim?” Your gaze snapped back to his, your brows furrowing slightly. “Marshall, it’s still you—all of you. I see that.”

But his mind couldn’t process that. It was a part of him, yes, but Slim wasn’t him. Slim was the darkness, the rage he’d spent his life trying to keep buried. And now, the idea of him with you—kissing you, holding you—sent a possessive wave through him he couldn’t shake. “Y/N, you don’t understand.” His voice was tight, almost pleading. “Slim isn’t…he isn’t me. Not really. And now he got close to you. Too close.” You took a step toward him, but he tensed, his fists clenching and unclenching as he battled the feelings roiling inside him. Jealousy, betrayal, fear—all simmering together in a painful cocktail. Your voice softened, gentle but firm. “Marshall, it’s all of you I’m here for. I knew Slim was a part of you. I didn’t expect to meet him like this, but… but I chose to be here, no matter what. That doesn’t change.” 

“But you kissed him,” he repeated, his tone accusatory, a mix of anger and confusion. “You’re mine, Y/N. I can’t… I can’t handle the thought of him touching you.” His voice broke slightly, the vulnerability raw and unfiltered. You stepped closer again, reaching out to him, your hand finding his. “Marshall, listen to me,” you said, your voice steady, anchoring him. “It was you. Even if Slim’s different, even if he’s the parts of you that hurt and protect, he’s still part of you. And that’s who I love—all of you.”

He hesitated, his jealousy still sharp, but you could tell that your words were beginning to soothe him. You squeezed his hand, your thumb tracing small circles on his skin, and he let himself breathe, trying to absorb the truth of your words. It didn’t come easy, and a part of him still seethed, still wrestled with the possessiveness clawing at him. But he felt the strength of your presence, the certainty in your gaze. “You’re still mine,” he murmured, the edge of jealousy in his voice softening. “I just… I need to know that no part of me, even Slim, can take you away from me.” You smiled, your gaze unwavering as you nodded. “I’m yours, Marshall. And nothing—not even Slim—will change that.” And you meant it. Every word. Your heart belonged to Marshall, but you wondered if Slim was some kind of hope you could hold on to, a way you could finally have more of Marshall. 

[googleitlol]

This oneshot is more the length I thought the other one would be, a little under 2500 words. Hope it packs just as much emotion in it, enjoy!

TW: Dead Dove, severe burns

Dove Masterlist:

Samadhi

How on earth did things end up like this?

“Hey.” Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, looks down to his left to see his engaged. His beloved Dove gives him a worried look as she puts a hand on his shoulder. She looks stunning, she always does. “Something is on your mind, Peaches.”

The two of them stand on his somersault cloud, Wukong’s arm is wrapped around Dove’s waist to keep her close so they can both fit on the soft platform. It moves slowly to their destination where others wait for their arrival. He could make the cloud go faster, but he doesn’t want to. He can’t help how fear grips his heart in anticipation for what they are about to attempt. “It’s nothing.”

“Over a decade we’ve been on this journey together, and you think you can still lie to me?” She frowns, her expression more annoyed than anything else. It shifts back to worry as her hand shifts up to hold the side of his face. “We’re supposed to confide in each other, My Love.”

Sun Wukong hums with a small smile, though he can’t hold the facade when she gives him that concerned look. Amidst these last twelve years, she’s become one of the few people that can read him like a book. “I just want this to work. I can’t stand seeing you like this.” His free hand reaches out to her outstretched arm that holds his face. He’s gentle as he encloses his fingers over the wraps that envelop her arms, his thumb brushing back and forth over the material. Wukong has seen the bandaging over her abdomen, the burns that scar her hands. Despite it all, the mortal he’s promised his life to smiles.

“How could it not? I know you three can do this.” Dove reassures him, the fire in her eyes bright as he leans into her touch.

He just has to tell himself this is it. It’ll be over after this. “How is it healing?”

Her hand retracts, and Wukong lets go of her arm so she can inspect it herself. “I’ve taken care of enough burns to know what I’m doing.” She laughs a little, maybe to make light of the injuries. When she looks up to see his furrowed brows, she sighs. “Maybe in a few days, after Iron Fan and your brother have a few days with their boy, we can visit them for dinner. It’ll be nice to hold Red Son without the fear of him bursting into flame, hah.”

“Red-Brat is more like it.” The sage mumbles under his breath, earning him a light slap on his armoured chest.

“Wukong!” Dove scolds with a sharp glare, and he lets out a chuckle.

That baby could burn her a thousand times, and she’d still defend him with her life. “I know, I know, he’s just a kid.” He can’t help the smile that finds its way onto his face, he loves seeing her jump to his nephew’s defence like that. Gods, never would he think someone could hold compassion for another that does them harm. Wukong will always love her for that compassion.

Despite her wounds, his engaged has held a soft spot for the boy since the moment he was born. With how destructive Red Son’s fire is, Dove’s ability to soothe the infant quickly became a crutch that pained him to see used. Wukong still doesn’t understand her patience, not when the baby nearly kills her as an everyday occurance. Still, she showers Red Son with love. He only wishes she had been that forgiving when they first met. It would have spared him a massive headache.

“Look at me.” Dove’s voice draws him back to the present, the determined look in her eyes captivating his attention. “It’s going to work.”

Even with the soothing presence of her gift, he doesn’t need it to ease his worries. Not when the confidence in her voice puts his troubles to rest. “I know it will.” As he speaks, she leans up to place a kiss over his forehead. “I can’t worry when I have you with me.”

Her smile is warm when she looks up at him. “I love you, Peaches.”

“I love you, Dove.” Wukong pulls her closer to his side, and his beloved rests her head on his shoulders.

Dove breathes a content sigh, her eyes focused on the sky ahead. “Maybe after this, we can ask Sanzang for a little break? We could visit Flower Fruit, spend some alone time together.”

Wukong hums with a small laugh. “Alone time sounds nice… y’know, with all the other monkeys crowding around us to get a look at their soon-to-be Monkey Queen.”

“Hah! I can’t wait to meet them properly.” She smiles, and Wukong looks down to take in what he can of her features. He can’t wait for when they retrieve those scriptures and they can go home, to stay. When this journey started, all he wanted was to be free from the burden of helping the monk and his cranky companion, but she changed that. Now, all he wants is to wake up each morning with Dove by his side, so he can take in those features in dawn’s light in their home.

“It’s settled, then.” He sighs before turning his attention back to the route ahead. “We’ll visit the little guys tonight. Master should be fine for one night without us.”

“With our luck, don’t jinx it.” That gets him to laugh. He supposes Dove is right, he shouldn’t say anything to risk their chances of a battle-free night. When she lets out a soft exhale, Wukong can feel himself relax just a bit more. “I can’t wait to get a proper tour of my new home with you.”

~~~~

It was supposed to be simple. Split the fire and find someplace to hide his own ring. Easy as that.

DBK won't have to deal with his home burning down every other day and call Dove to calm down his hot-tempered son. Sun Wukong admits, the kid is cute when he isn’t burning everything to the ground. Dove is so fond of him, how can he not like the little guy? Still, he hates every time she’s asked to help him. Dove has been burnt in her efforts to tame his flame, and relying solely on her to ensure a little kid doesn’t destroy the world isn’t a viable option anymore. Nor is it one he’s comfortable with.

The air is heavy among all who stand with the sage. Sun Wukong stands in a circle with his master, the Demon Bull King, and the Third Lotus Prince, Nezha, with the baby Red Son engulfed in flames in the centre of them all. The Monkey King’s brothers, Wujing, Ao Lie and Bajie all stand behind their master, and Dove stands a few paces behind to her Peaches’ right. She has to be on standby in case the separation fails, but it won’t. Like Dove said, this is going to work.

His master steps forward and taps his staff against the drawn out circle on the ground. “For the Samadhi Fire to be split into three, you must harmonise your energies.” He instructs, and the three chosen all look to one another with a nod.

The circle lights up, illuminating with life as it begins. The glow from the markings on the ground encapsulates Wukong’s vision, blinding his peripherals so that all he can focus on is the ring that begins taking form in front of his hands.

It’s a little surprising, how it feels at first. Wukong isn’t sure what he was expecting, but he thought there’d be more… pain involved? Maybe it’s because he can only feel a third of the fire feeding into the ring that takes shape in front of him, but it’s a little underwhelming. He’s taken the brunt of the Samadhi Fire before, he knows it can hurt, but this? Sure, he can feel the heat of the flames pretty strongly, but it's nothing he can't handle. It’s no wonder he was chosen as one of three that could withstand it. Maybe Nezha is having more trouble than him, the lotus prince has always been a bit of a baby compared to the other immortals he knows.

There’s a few flames that lash out more than the others, but it’s easy enough to keep them under control. “You know, this is kind of easier than I thought it would be.” He laughs a little, and that’s when his focus slips. That’s when it all goes wrong.

A flame lashes out as the baby in the centre shouts, and fire shoots out towards the three rings. The sheer force knocks Wukong onto his knees. The other two ring-bearers in the circle shout out at the sage, too late to stop a wave of fire that spews out in every direction. His dragon brother, Ao Lie, is quick to respond to flames that hurtle towards their master and takes a hit head-on. The Monkey King is quick enough to jump back to his feet and take this next hit easily.

But then he hears her scream.

Wukong freezes, Dove’s voice shooting ice through his veins. His eyes shoot wide at the sound of his worst fears coming to life. “Dove!” He hears Wujing call out to his love before heavy steps rush to her location just out of his view.

He moves to turn his head before she shouts. “NO! Don’t– haa… Don’t look, don’t let him…” She shouts out, her voice twisting in anguish, “Don’t stop, Peaches! The ring is almos–” She can’t even finish the sentence before letting out another shrill scream.

Every bone in his body is pleading for him to turn around, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to. His heart is thundering in his chest, fear claws at his skin as he begs himself to focus on the rings. She won’t stop screaming, she won’t stop screaming–

“Dove?! Dove!!” She can’t answer him, can she even hear him?! Gods, he can’t see her! His eyes shut tight, and he fights every fibre of his being not to abandon the ritual and run to her side as Bajie and Wujing shout from behind.

“It won’t go out!”

“It can’t go out!”

Wukong shakes his head, their voices pushing him to the brink of madness. “Dove, please– hang on!” Help her, he needs to help her, shit, he has to move, she needs help! Help her, help her!!! She’s screaming, she isn’t stopping she won’t stop– she’s screaming! Even when she stops, he can still hear her screaming. Her voice rings in his ears.

When the rings fully form, Sun Wukong’s drops to the ground. He turns to run to his love, only to choke back a gasp when he sees her. The fire that had been burning its way up her body whisps away with the rings now complete. Left in their wake and in the arms of Wujing is a limp body.

The sight of her alone is nearly enough to send him falling back. Her entire lower half and right side of her body is covered in fourth degree burns. Her clothes are singed and melted into her skin, into her arms and torso. There’s muscle tissue visible in the meat of her hands and along her legs from where the fire had its fill. All over her body are contrasting amalgamations between charcoaled skin and raw pinks of every shade, even the white of bone pokes out from her right shoulder and knuckles.

“Dove!” He doesn’t waste another moment rushing to her side. Despite her injuries, the woman still breathes. Each inhale is laboured, every exhale pain from her burning lungs. Her voice barely carries to shout when he moves her from Wujing’s arms to his own. “No, no… no, no no no! Somebody help!”

His head whips around to those that now surround them, Demon Bull King hiding away his son’s face from them while Tripitaka rushes to their side. He gasps at the sight of his friend, his staff dropping with an echoing clang. “Master, please!” Wukong begs, his voice never before sounding so desperate.

His master crouches down slowly, his eyes never leaving her, his first companion on his journey. “They’re… they’re too severe.”

“The hell do you mean, too severe?!” Wukong snaps, but the monk can’t even move to flinch. “She’s dying! We have to do something!”

He looks back to Nezha, his brothers, anyone! “Please! There has to be something– we can’t–”

“Peaches…” He barely hears Dove, her voice holds only a shell of the life it did a mere hour ago. He looks down at his love, only now can he realise how blurred his vision is when he can barely make out her features. There’s tears streaming down her face, her eyes are open but unfocused.

Her breathing is ragged as Wukong holds her hand in his. “Shh, shh… it’s okay, Dove.” His voice cracks, he needs to comfort her. “Don’t try to say anything, we’re gonna help you. We–”

His head whips back up to the friends that have gathered around them. “We have to do something, now! Master, there has to be a way! Nezha, there must be something, I won’t let her die! Please!”

“Brother…” Bajie rests a hand on the sage’s shoulder, and Wukong snaps his head up to him. But his brother isn’t looking at him. His gaze is focused on Dove and–

He can’t feel her. That calming presence he’s so used to walking with every day. It’s gone. She isn’t breathing.

“…Dove?” Wukong checks for a pulse, but he finds nothing. His heart sinks. “Dove? Dove, please– Dove?! We said everything would be okay after this.” His voice feels strained, it’s throbbing, there's somethings choking him.

“Dove, don’t do this to me– please! Please!”

“Dove! Dove!”

The king throws his head back in outcry, his queen limp in his arms. His voice is bloodcurdling, his scream so visceral it shreds into every soul present. Wukong pulls the shell of his love into his chest and sobs, burying his head into her shoulder. Her body is warm, but it isn’t her warmth.

He can’t feel her. Why can’t he feel her in his arms anymore?! This isn’t what was supposed to happen, how could this happen? How on earth could things end up like this?! He was supposed to stop her from getting hurt! “Please, Dove… we’re visiting home tonight, remember?”

“…We’re going home tonight.”

[iwriteforthetincanman]

Life Day

A/N: I had to write something for Christmas as it’s Christmas eve and I don’t have that much to do (Ironically I’ve been left home alone) and yes I’m aware it’s been four years since I’ve written anything for Din but hopefully I’ll write a lot more once I’ve graduated!

Description: Excited about spending your first life day on Nevarro with Din and Grogu, you discover that Mandalorians don’t celebrate the holiday. Regardless, you celebrate proudly as you wish to share your favourite time of year with the people you care about most. 

Word Count: 1799 words

Waking up the day before Life day to snow covering the plains of Nevarro filled you with so much joy, you ended up waking Din up in your excitement. 

“Din! Din, wake up! It’s snowing!” You squealed, hands pressed against the window panes. 

Din’s groans filtered through the vocoder of his helmet, his head languidly rising off of the pillow. “Cyar’ika…it’s just snow.” You couldn’t help rolling your eyes at his response. 

“It’s not just snow, it’s snow just in time for life day!” grinning down at your sleepy mandalorian, you tried to rouse him from his slumber. 

“Life day?” He grumbled. 

“Yes! It’s tomorrow!” You rushed around your shared bedroom, getting changed into your clothes as fast as you could so you could go outside. “I’m going to go and wake the kid, he’ll love this!” running out of the room, Din couldn’t help but watch as his heart sank. 

After hours of playing in the snow with Grogu, building multiple snowmen and a little snow version of the child, it was time to head into town for a supply run. Although it felt like your nose was about to drop off from the cold, you couldn’t help looking forward to seeing how the people had decorated the town. 

Din walked effortlessly through the snow in his armor as you shuffled behind him, the kid bundled up in your arms. Grogu wore a little hat and mittens along with his robe to help keep him warm. As you got closer and closer to the town you couldn’t help but notice a lovely smell in the air. 

“Oh Din, someone’s making hot chocolate.” You beamed, trying to carve your way through the mountains of snow faster than ever. 

You caught a chuckle from him as he reached out for you. “Calm yourself Cyare, I don’t want you and the kid to fall face first into this.” He gestured to the white desert before you. 

“My love, I think I know what I’m doing.” You snarked, determined to make it into town. 

Next moment you know you’re face down in four feet of snow. 

*

After Din helped dig you and the kid out, you finally made it into town and it was so worth it. Every rooftop was decked in multicolored lights and decorations were everywhere you looked, it was so beautiful and you were over the moon to share it with your family. 

“What’s your favourite part about Life Day? I love getting gifts for everyone the most.” You gushed as you walked past the first couple of stalls. 

“Cyare…mandalorians don’t celebrate Life Day.” 

It was like alarm bells had started to ring in your head, you dug your heels into the ground, letting Din walk straight past you. 

“I’m sorry…what did you just say?” You couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. 

“My culture, we don’t tend to celebrate holidays. We just focus on getting through the year.” He sighed heavily, silently wishing his answer could be different. 

“The whole reason people started celebrating Life Day was to cherish life after the fall of the Empire, to remember what’s important.” You rested a hand on Din’s vambrace, your gaze finding his visor. 

“I understand that Y/N…you and the kid can celebrate if you want, I won’t stop you.” He pulled away from you as he walked down the street, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Surely, this couldn’t be it? Maybe…maybe if you just showed Din how special life day could be? 

*

Fast forward to later on that night, you’ve covered the house head to toe in decorations and set up a tree in the living room. You were just thankful you could get your hands on a tree so last minute. Grogu absolutely loved it, watching you string all the colourful lights from branch to branch and place carefully crafted ornaments on each bough. Looking around, you began to wonder if you had gone a bit too far? Nah. Din will love it. 

Soon after Din left you to your devices in the market, you sent him a quick message saying you were rushing back home and that he could take his time. Luckily he had taken enough time for you to decorate the house in record speeds. 

“What on Nevarro is this?” Din’s voice startled you, spinning around to face the mandalorian, you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling as all the lights reflected off of his beskar. 

“Decorations! You said I could celebrate Life day so…here it is.” You threw your arms out wide, gesturing to the entire space. There wasn’t a nook or cranny that hadn’t been decorated…okay so maybe you had gone over the top. 

“...I hope this is okay.” You added on lamely. 

“Of course it is cyare. Whatever makes you happy.” Din lumbered into your bedroom, leaving you and the kid alone next to the tree. 

“Maybe it was stupid of me to think I could change his mind.” You muttered to Grogu, his ears drooping at your downcast expression. 

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun of our own.” Scrambling underneath the tree, you did your best to put on a tough front for the kid, you wanted him to enjoy the holiday more than anything. 

Bringing a small present out you faced the small green child you had come to think of as your own. 

“My parents always let me open one present the night before Life Day, it was a tradition we had, one I’d like to pass on to you ad’ika.” You beamed as an excited look passed over Grogu’s face, handing him the present you watched with joy in your heart as he opened it. 

“Patu!” He squealed as he held out the new robe before him. You had noticed the one he had been wearing in all these years you’ve known him was starting to get grubby with age so you had gone ahead and made him a new one. 

“I hope you like it.” you grinned, watching as he ran his hand over the new fabric. 

That was when you noticed the refractions of rainbow light on the walls. You turned to face Din, still fully clad in his armor. 

“It’s well crafted, it’ll suit him well.” Your love complimented the gift. 

“Thanks, I worked hard on it.” You patted the space next to you for him to sit. “I know you don’t celebrate the holiday but…we’d love for you to join us.” Grogu gurgled in agreement. 

Without a word, the mandalorian sat down next to you on the rug, looking up at the lights in all their colorful glory. 

“Cyar’ika I’m sorry if…I’ve spoiled your holiday.” This sent ice into your chest. 

“No Din. You’ve done no such thing. I may have wanted to share my holiday with you but…it was wrong of me to think I could convince you to take part in Life Day when you don’t celebrate it.” you sighed. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” The Mandalorian confessed. 

“What?” you breathed, wrapping your arms around your legs. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a family to celebrate anything with…I vaguely remember celebrating festivals with my parents as a child, I know that memories like that would be worth creating for our son.” Tears gathered in your eyes as you both turned to Grogu, who was still mesmerised by the tree himself. 

“Celebrating Life Day with my parents growing up was one of the best parts of being a kid. Not only did it remind me of everything I held dear but it brought us all closer together as a family.” you smiled up at your partner. 

“There’s one tradition I wanted to take part in.” Din’s helmet dipped as he reached into one of his pockets. From it he produced a small box adorned in festive wrapping. “For you cyare.” 

“Din.” You gave him a watery smile as you gently took the present from him. 

Slowly, you unwrapped the gift, careful not to tear the wrapping in this precious moment. You were shocked at what you found inside. 

A ring box. 

“Maker, Din, is this what I think it is?” you questioned, too stunned to even flip it open. 

“Yes Y/N, I’ve been thinking about asking for a while and I know how sentimental you are. Mandalorians don't need rings to show their devotion to one another but…we’re different, we’ve proven that time and time again.” You laughed as Din took the box back off of you, shuffling around so he ended up on one knee. 

He opened the box to reveal a simple band made of beskar. You just knew the armorer had made it for him. 

“Y/N, we’ve been together for a few years now and if it hadn’t been for everything that happened with Moff Gideon and Mandalore…I would’ve asked a lot sooner. Would you do me the honor of becoming my riduur?” Even though you only spoke a sparse amount of Mando’a, you knew that this word meant spouse. 

“Of course I will!” You answered, jumping into his arms. 

Din let out a laugh of his own as he caught you, careful not to drop the ring. You pulled away to press your forehead against his in a keldabe kiss, Grogu babbling in excitement behind you. 

“Here.” Din gingerly grasped your hand as he slid the ring onto your finger, it fit perfectly. 

“I love it.” You admired the band as the thought of being engaged to the love of your life settled into reality. 

“I have one more surprise.” Din got up from the floor, bringing you with him as he walked you both over to the doorway leading to your bedroom. 

Fastened above it was a sprig of mistletoe. 

“Din?” You wondered aloud what he was up to. 

“I thought…since it’s Life Day and all, we could bend the rules a little.” He shrugged and before you could question what he meant “Close your eyes cyare.” 

“Close my eyes?”

“Trust me.” 

Without a doubt in mind, you closed your eyes. You heard a hiss and of something heavy hitting the floor and…something soft. 

His lips brushing against yours, hesitant at first but slowly easing into the kiss as you both relaxed. You felt stubble caressing your face, he had a mustache and a beard you discovered. Keeping your eyes firmly closed, you fought the temptation to look, you respected Din’s creed more than anything. You knew how much it meant to him. 

Pulling away for air, you felt him smile, a wide grin full of joy. 

“I love you.” The first words you heard him say without the helmet, in his natural voice. 

“I love you too Din. Happy Life Day.” 

What a wonderful time of year.

[poeticpascal]

Trouble (Pedro Pascal x Rockstar!Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: Pedro had never heard of (Y/N) (L/N) before his latest appearance on The Graham Norton Show. By the end, his assistant wishes it had stayed that way, and he wonders how it took him so long to find her.

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse (now recovered), allusions to but no specific mention of an overdose.

A/n: I am very nervous to post this! I've never written a fic about an actor like this before, so depending on how this one does lol, you may be able to expect more from me like this. Please let me know what you think, and don't forget my requests are open!

“And he used red this time! We were getting so worried that he wasn’t interested in all 3 primary colours-”

Pedro sighs, glancing towards the door to see if his assistant was coming back yet. No sign.

He turns back to the old lady who’s been talking now for what - 4 hours? 5? It felt like it. She was sweet, and he didn’t want to be rude, but god if he had to spend one more minute hearing about her grandson’s latest finger painting-

“So sorry I took so long! We’ll have to get going Pedro - your next interview is in 10.”

His assistant - Alicia - burst back into the room and Pedro was sure he could feel his eyes well in relief. He takes the lady’s hand, shaking it and giving her a warm smile. “Mrs Alderman, I’d love to hear all about Harvey, but I’ve gotta go. It was lovely to meet you!”

She smiles in understanding and clasps her own hand on top of his. “It was lovely to meet you too, Peter!”

Alicia snorts behind him, and Pedro gives up with a final, defeated smile before heading out of the cafe and back towards his car. He’d only wanted to nip in for a second, to grab coffee and a pastry, but then Alicia got a phone call, and Mrs Alderman started talking to him in the queue, and by the time they left his goddamn coffee had gone cold.

They clamber inside, Alicia pushing a few files onto the backseat as Pedro stares. “I almost died, you know,” he quips, half muffled as he takes a bite of his croissant. He hums at the taste, light and buttery; maybe it had been worth it.

Alicia rolls her eyes, used to his antics by now. “I was on the phone to the BBC. They’ve confirmed who you’ll be on The Graham Norton Show with.”

“They have? Who?” 

He generally felt nervous going on the big chat shows, especially with how in demand he'd been recently. But Graham had been so warm, especially for his first time on the show, that when they asked him to come back he'd accepted without hesitation.

And really, he was quite looking forward to it.

Alicia doesn't seem quite as excited though. She flips open her notepad, littered with delicate but hasty scribbles of various projects and dates, and begins to read out the names.

“Robert Downey Jr, he’s promoting Oppenheimer.”

“I'm gonna meet Iron Man?” Now he was nervous.

“Kate McKinnon. She's in the Barbie movie, I think.”

“Amazing.” He'd always wanted to meet her.

“And…” she sighs. “(Y/N) (L/N).”

“Who?” No seriously, who?

Alicia snaps her head up to look at him. Surely he didn’t not know who she was? “(Y/N) (L/N)? The singer?”

Pedro just shakes his head, unbothered. “Nah, never heard of her. She any good?”

“No, Pedro, that’s the point.” He cocks an eyebrow, gesturing for her to continue as she looks back and forth between him and her notes. “She’s a publicist’s worst nightmare. She’s the lead singer of this band, The Heartbreakers, they’re huge. Like, Taylor Swift-huge. But if Taylor Swift did heavy metal.”

“And why don't we like her?” he asks.

“Because she’s trouble. She’s had big drug problems, she argues with everyone, she goes on stage and pulls all these crazy stunts. She’s always in the news, Pedro.”

He can’t help but think she sounds like fun.

“Can’t be that bad, right? If she’s that famous?”

Alicia shakes her head, “she's famous, but that doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous. People love you right now, Pedro. I’m just concerned that if you’re seen to be… friendly with her, people will raise their eyebrows. It won’t look good.

He thinks for a second. It really wasn’t in his nature, this whole PR thing. He liked meeting new people, and listening to them, and connecting. Maybe not Mrs Alderman - and now he's thinking about that nightmare again - but, for the most part, yes; Pedro liked people.

And not giving someone a chance because of his public image didn’t feel right.

Alicia sees the cogs turning in his brain, so she flips the pad closed, giving him her full attention now. “I know it’s strange, but I mean it. It’s not a hole you want to get dragged into. Her fandom is huge, the media's obsessed with her, parents hate that their kids listen to her and kids love to piss off their parents by listening to her. I’m going to speak to them about getting you sat on the opposite end of the couch... I just want to make sure you’re not linked with her. Trust me.”

With that, he nods his head. He does trust her - at the end of the day, he didn’t even know who this (Y/N) person was. So what if he didn’t speak to her much on the show?

—------

“WHAT?!”

He had to pull the phone away as Bella’s near-screech pierced his ears. They yell again, something along the lines of “are you serious? Pedro, are you serious?!”

“Yes I’m serious, what’s the big-”

“Oh my god I can’t believe it! You’re going to meet (Y/N) (L/N)! Will you mention her to me? I saw her tweet once that she watched the show and oh my god I need her to follow me on Instagram-”

“Wait, Bella, wait,” Pedro rubs his thumb and forefinger between his brows, not exactly thrilled that what was supposed to be a call to calm his nerves the night before the show was now filled with so much rowdiness. “I don’t even know who she is! You listen to her?”

They gasp, and he just knew they were pulling a dramatic, jaw-dropped face on the other end of the line. “Come on man, I know you’re not the hippest guy around but you have to know who she is!”

He giggles, throwing his hands in the air. “‘Fraid not, Bella. I’ve no clue. I do know i’m not supposed to talk to her though.”

Now there was a real gasp, not the purposefully dramatic kind. “What? Pedro, you can’t not talk to her. You have to. She’s the coolest person, like, ever.”

Pedro scoffs, “what about me?”

“When you get sleeve tattoos and banned from performing at the VMAs, you might get considered dude.”

“She was banned from the VMAs?”

You know that feeling, when someone tells you not to do something, and you don’t want to do anything else?

Yeah, that.

“I’ll send you the link, it was so cool. She said she’ll be allowed back next year anyway 'cos they need her to stay relevant.” He giggles again at that, and yeah, he couldn’t deny his intrigue.

“So that’s why you like her? She's all rebellious and stuff?” Pedro chews on his thumb as he asks, the anxiety of tomorrow not quite forgotten, but listening intently as Bella rants on.

“Nah, I mean she is controversial, but I just think she’s amazing. She acts all tough and rock 'n' roll, but she's really great deep down. I went to see her band once a couple of years ago, and this girl fainted so she stopped the whole show to make sure she got water and was okay. She’s just misunderstood, man.”

“Is it true she’s a drug addict?” He's not sure why he felt the need to ask. Why he cared. Maybe it was just to build a better picture, or maybe because Bella loves her so much, and he cares about their interests. Maybe, he had a sort of… concern, for her. For this enigma.

They knew each other well, and Bella could sense Pedro’s interest. More than anything, they were just excited to tell him about their favourite singer. “She used to be, it was crazy. She’d go on stage high and everything, people really hated her then. But she’s been sober now for, like, a year? She talks about it a lot. This is what I mean dude - everyone remembers all those shitty things but I think she’s so strong.”

He hums in agreement, thinking back to Alicia’s warning a few days earlier.

“Do you think it’d be bad? If I talked to her?”

It was Bella taking a moment’s pause, now. “I mean… Alicia’s not wrong. She’s not exactly got the cleanest image a celebrity’s ever had. I guess it’s up to you to decide what matters most.”

It was quite profound really, and Pedro was reminded of just how mature they were for their age.

“The most important thing is that you give her my instagram handle.”

And just like that, the moment’s gone. He laughs, shaking his head and muttering “you’re a dick”, before falling into conversation about other things. He fully intended to look up (Y/N) (L/N) before he fell asleep, but the hours went by quick and soon enough he'd drifted off, phone in hand and tomorrow's nerves dispelled for now.

—------

Maybe this whole Graham Norton thing was a bad idea.

Pedro was tired.

It had been a long flight to London, a long drive from the airport to his hotel. And a long, long wait at the studio before they even thought about getting filming started.

He’d been in hair and makeup for a good while, and according to Alicia, it would still be another two hour’s wait until they got him sat on the big red couch.

Yeah, he was tired.

He steps out, the muddied skies of London painting a grey-cast shadow on his face, the frosty winds hitting his skin. It was nice. Different. Much harsher than the LA sun he was used to.

He looks around; it’s just him there in the car park, leant against the windowsill and letting his eyes drift shut. It’s peaceful, and if it weren’t for the rushing of the motorway that ran just beside him, he’d almost feel alone.

“Mind if I join?”

He jolts awake, startled out of his near-tranquility, facing the woman who’d crept outside through the same doors he did. She was casually dressed, far more so than the BBC staff he’d seen today; she must be a temp, or an intern or something. A heavy black hoodie swallows her frame, and he wished he had a similar one as his ice-cold breath fell into the air. His eyes draw upwards, and he thinks to himself just how pretty she is. (Y/H/C) hair is bundled in her hood, loose strands blowing messily in the wind. She has no makeup on, so he can see greyish bags hung under her eyes, her lips stained pink, a soft blush blooming over her cheeks from the frosty air. There’s a roughness to her, something harsh, and it makes her so utterly alluring.

“Yeah- yes, of course. Of course.” He offers a smile, and she smiles back, and his heart races.

He shuffles to the left, unsure of why he’s making room for her on the windowsill; they’re outside, he’s a stranger. There’s a bench not far from the door, perfectly fit for her to sit on. And yet she follows his movements, and leans against the porcelain outline of the large window, searching for something in her pockets.

“D'you smoke?” She produces a pack of cigarettes, and digs out a lighter from her back jean pocket. Pedro watches as she slips one of them between her lips, covering the end with delicate hands as she lights it, revelling in the taste and taking a long drag. He notices then her long black nails, perfectly painted and delicately holding the cigarette in place, elegant and weapon-like at the same time.

There’s a nonchalance to everything she does, and it’s enticing. She doesn’t look at him when she asks, or when she expels the smoke from her lungs, keeping her eyes set forward and undoubtedly feeling the weight of Pedro’s on her face.

He forgets he’s supposed to answer.

“Er, no, thank you. I’m being good.” He offers her a smile, forced as he tries to remember his own whereabouts, too entranced by the beauty and the charisma that fell from this woman in droves.

The two are silent for a little while, he can’t be too sure how long. He smells the smoke from beside him, sees the wisps drawl from her tongue and into the cool air, and for someone who considered himself rather charming, he couldn’t for the life of him think of something to say.

He doesn’t have to.

“What're you doing out here, then?”

And this time she is looking at him. They’re sat close, and his eyes meet hers with ease, warm and welcoming. He feels a little more comfortable now, like she’s a friend; her warmness makes it hard to feel anything other than at peace.

He smiles, bashful. “I’m working.”

“Working?”

He looks down at his shoes, rubbing them against one another. It was always a strange conversation to have, explaining who he was to people who didn’t know. It felt like showing off a little; more than anything, he didn’t want to make a big deal of it.

“Yeah, I, uh… on the show.”

She giggles, and it sounds so sweet that his tummy heats up. “I’m only kidding. I know who you are. The Last Of Us, right?”

There’s a sincerity to her tone, nothing like this thick, false charm people try to use when they know he’s famous. It didn’t feel like she wanted anything from him in that moment. He nods, looking back up at her and his breath hitches when they immediately lock eyes again. Her lips are turned into a sly smile, cheeky almost, and he can’t help but grin back.

“I liked that show,” she says before taking another long drag.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me. Makes this fuckin’ huge press tour worth it.”

She laughs. Not the quiet giggle she gave him before, but a proper laugh, one that makes her eyes brighter and her nose scrunch up. Pedro laughs too, caught up in her, and when their chuckles die down they relax into a comfortable silence for a few moments before he turns to her again and asks, “how about you? Are you on the production team?”

She ponders her answer. It’s the first time - in the 10 minutes since they’d met - that she’d seemed to falter. Like she was unsure. “Yeah, you could say that.”

He didn’t push it. Maybe his fame was a problem. Did she feel overwhelmed? Or judged? He didn’t know - but a twang of sadness settled in his gut, and he wondered what to say next.

She recovers quickly, though. Stands back up a little straighter, puts the butt of her cigarette out against the wall, and faces him once again. “You seem nervous."

Pedro chuckles, nervously. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only when you scuff your shoes within an inch of their life and readjust your glasses every 10 seconds.”

“And here I thought I hid it well.” Cocking an eyebrow, the woman looks at him knowingly and tilts her head, encouraging him to go on.

“I always get nervous before these things... it feels worse this time, though. I just know Robert Downey Jr is gonna think I’m so weird, and then there’s this other lady I gotta avoid-”

“Who?”

She was abrupt, quickly apologising for interrupting him. He didn’t mind. “She’s like this... musician? I think. I’m sure you’ll know who she is. I’m awful at keeping up with whatever the kids are doing now. (Y/N)- (Y/N) something.”

There was a pause, awkwardly long. “My assistant says I gotta stay away from her” her continues, feeling a need to fill the gap. “Just doesn’t feel right to me, you know? To judge someone like that before you’ve even met them?”

He watches as she nods her head, deep in thought. She meets his eyes and nods again, faster, showing to him now that she agrees. She understands. He’s not quite sure how she understands, but he believes her; she didn’t strike him as the dishonest sort.

Pedro’s phone vibrates in his pocket, startling them both and they share another soft laugh. He grabs it, seeing Alicia's text flash on the screen - You’ve got a meeting with the producers to go over filming. 10 minutes. Ah shit.

“Everything okay?” There’s concern in her voice, and Pedro wonders if she knows he has to go. If she’s just as disappointed as he is.

“Yeah, yeah. I just - I gotta go.”

She’s definitely disappointed. He knows because her bright eyes fall the same way his did.

He’d never quite felt like this; like a magnet was drawing him to someone and like it would hurt in his soul to let her go. It occurred to him then, he didn’t even know her name, and he’d be damned if he was going to crawl back into the world of PR and publicity stunts and rehearsed answers without finding it out.

“It was nice to meet you. I don’t know if you- you want to get a coffee? Or something? After filming?”

The same harsh edge she had when they met, the one that had slipped and softened as they talked, seemed to have crept back as a once-sweet smile became that sly, cautious smirk. He couldn’t quite understand what she was thinking, what the cogs that so clearly turned in her mind were churning up, but he knew he didn’t care as long as he got to see her again.

“I’d like that.” Pedro sighs in relief, smiling again and sticking out an ice-bitten hand. “I’m Pedro.”

She giggles, offering her own hand and he stalled at the feeling of her fingers wrapped around his own. “I know.” She retorts, and he laughs, and just when she opens her mouth to tell him her own name-

“Pedro! We gotta go!”

Alicia shoves the door open, not even looking up from her phone which was presumably inundated with countless emails and phone calls, and Pedro sighs before looking desperately into the still nameless women’s eyes. She just smiles, dropping his hand and digging hers into her pockets. “Go on. I'll catch you later.”

He nods, swallowing and offering a small, regretful smile before pushing himself off the wall and following Alicia back inside. She huffs at him, speeding back off down the corridor and muttering something along the lines of “these goddamn producers”. He looks back a final time, to where the woman still sits in the windowsill. She waves, and he grins, unable to hide the childlike excitement her little gesture gave him before waving back and letting the door shut behind him.

—------

“We’ve got a fantastic show for you tonight, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s get some guests on!”

Pedro hears the roar of the audience, only a single wall between them and him as he waits to hear his name. He looks around the room; Robert and Kate are stood with him, chatting away at something he’d stopped listening to a little while ago. He felt better now he’d met them - they were lovely, so down to earth and genuinely happy to chat to him and hear what he had to say. It made him less nervous, and you might even say he was looking forward to this now.

There was no sign of her though. The singer - (Y/N). Alicia had scoffed, “typical,” just 10 minutes earlier, when there had been no sign. And she still wasn’t here.

“We’ve got the newly Emmy-nominated actor, best known for his amazing roles in The Mandalorian and HBO’s The Last Of us,” the audience’s roars got louder, “Mr. Pedro Pascal!”

It’s time.

He pulls his suit jacket a little tighter around himself, laying his palm flat against the bottom of his chest. With the other hand, he waves, smiling brightly at the crowd who cheered him on. Graham greets him, pulling him in for a hug and welcoming him back, before pointing him towards the end of the couch. Pedro gives the audience a final wave, mouthing ‘thank you’s and trying to express his gratitude for the love that filled the room.

Kate and Robert came next, shaking his hand and ‘introducing’ themselves again, despite the fact he’d already met them an hour earlier. A producer runs up to Graham, whispering something in his ear before darting off in the other direction. Graham rolls his eyes playfully, turning towards the audience and announcing, “we’ve got a late one!” The audience laugh, and Graham just organises his cue cards as producers usedthe extra time to prepare the camera angles and get the lighting right.

Graham looks at the couch, smiling with a wink. “Don’t worry - she’ll be here in a minute.”

“Is this (Y/N) again?” Robert asks, grinning.

“You’ve met her?” Pedro jumps in, falling into small talk among the four of them.

“A couple of times now yeah,” Robert replies. “I think she’s great, really funny. She's just… not the most put together person.”

They laugh, and Kate recounts her own story of having to wait on some celebrity or another, entertaining the crowd.

Graham parts from the conversation after around 10 minutes, holding a finger to his ear piece and nodding at whatever he was being told from the other end of the line. He stands up, smiling wide and turning to the audience, “she’s here! We have our rockstar ready.”

Cheers immediately erupt, and Graham turns to the guests to check they’re all ready to carry on with the show. Pedro nods, anticipation building as he spots Alicia from the corner of his eye, keeping watch.

“And don’t worry everyone, we’ll cut that little intermission out!” The room laughs. “Now I’m very glad introduce our last, but certainly not least, guest of the night. She’s the lead singer of Grammy-nominated band The Heartbreakers, she’s one of the most famous women in the world right now, and she’s only a tad terrifying. Ladies and gentleman, please welcome - (Y/N) (L/N)!

The audience becomes the loudest they’ve been all night, standing and yelling as the final guest takes the stage, and -

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It’s her. The woman from outside, the one he’d been thinking about all afternoon. The one whose name he never learned. 

She looks different; she looks like the woman he’d been warned about. She looks dangerous. Where a black hoodie had hung from her shoulders, a black lace dress now clung to her figure and he could see the tattoos that littered her sleeveless arms. The bags under her eyes were gone, as was the pink on her cheeks; her skin was painted, perfected, sculpted with darker shades and glowing radiantly. Her lips were black and glossy, so neatly done that she almost looked like a doll. Thick eyeliner carried a smoky shadow across her eyelid and beyond, drowning the same (Y/E/C) eyes he’d memorised in black.

She was ethereal.

And she was his one, single instruction for the night. Don’t get involved in her.

She waves at the audience, smirking in the same sly way she’d done to him earlier; he saw more clearly that they were the same now. She has the same charm, same charisma, same allure and yet she seems all the more potent now as she strides across the stage in 6 inch heels and pulls Graham into a tight hug, like old friends. She whispers something in his ear, and he throws his head back with a laugh before she saunters to the couch, where the three guests stand up to greet her. She and Kate introduce one another with a kiss on the cheek and a warm smile, before she gives Robert another tight hug and they share a word that Pedro can hear now. “I have to stay here an extra 10 minutes ‘cos of you” Robert quips, causing (Y/N) to pull back and look at him with a cocked brow.

“You know I’m worth it, Downey.”

With that, she turns to face Pedro, and his breath hitches the same way it did when they’d first met. Her grin falters slightly, and there it is again; that honesty. She almost seemed like she was putting on a show, with her slow saunter and cheeky remarks, but there was nothing false about the way she wrapped her arms around him and looked into his eyes.

“My name’s (Y/N).”

He just laughs. He can’t help it. She makes him feel giddy. “I know.”

The audience’s applause dies down, and (Y/N) takes her spot as the star guest, and the first on the couch closest the Graham. He talks between them and the crowd, commenting on what a great line up they had today, despite certain delays, which has the audience howling again. (Y/N) laughs with them, shaking her head and pretending to cover her face with her hand, before looking up at Graham and saying, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay? I got held up!”

“Well you have to tell us what happened,” Graham retorts, and they banter as (Y/N) recounts getting stuck in the backstage toilets. She has everyone wrapped around her finger, listening to everything she says and laughing at her jokes, and Pedro can’t find himself believing the warnings Alicia had given him. 

He remembers Bella, and how much praise they had for her, and he gets it. He sees what they see.

“Well you’re here now, that’s all that matters. We actually haven’t seen you for a while!” 

(Y/N) nods, her demeanour becoming slightly more serious. “No, it’s been a strange few months.” 

Graham continues, “the last time you were on the show was 2021. And obviously as most of us here know, you've had quite a difficult time since then, right? Tell me how you’ve been.”

She takes a sharp breath, and Pedro could’ve sworn she glanced up at him before she answers. “Well, yeah. I’m sure it’s no surprise to anyone that I was struggling with addiction for… most of my career, really.”

“‘No surprise’?” - Graham interjects - “you used to get high on stage!” It seemed judgemental, but it quickly became clear that he and (Y/N) had that sort of friendship, the kind where you can talk to one another so blatantly. She purses her lips at him, and he giggles, which makes her break the feigned offence and giggle too. 

“Look, man, that’s rock and roll.” The room laughs again. “No but seriously, yeah, it just got worse and worse until… well, you know what happened. it was hard. But I’ve gotten clean, I haven’t touched that shit in what, 8 months?” The crowd launch into cheers and applause, echoed by Graham and the other guests. Pedro could see how much it meant to her, how she tried to keep a stoic appearance despite the tears beginning to glisten in her eyes. She mouths a thank you, and he longs to skip right past Robert and Kate to be by her side, to hold her. She recovers quickly, something Pedro notes she seems to do a lot; cover her moments of weakness as soon as they start. Instead she sits up straighter and jokes, “I think everyone’s worried I’m gonna be boring now, without the drugs.”

Graham laughs, “I mean, you are known for being one of the more controversial artists out there.”

“If anything, I think being high slowed me down. I’m just gonna get worse, now.”

“Oh god, don’t say that,” Graham jokes, “you’re going on tour again soon, I’m not sure we can handle it.”

The audience cheer even louder at the mention of the tour, making (Y/N)’s smile grow wider. “Yep, new album, new tour. It’s all happening.”

Graham turns to Pedro suddenly, as if remembering he had three other guests to rope into the conversation. “Do you listen to this sort of music, Pedro? The Heartbreakers?”

And, shit. Pedro can feel Alicia’s eyes burning into him from off-stage, and he recalls her warnings about this very situation.

Don’t make friends with her

Don’t give the media something to talk about

Don’t ruin your reputation

And yet, her voice got quieter and quieter in his head, as the sound of (Y/N)’s laugh and the pierce of her eyes became all he could think about. The decision was pretty easy to make, really.

“I actually hadn’t heard of them, until today.” Graham chuckles at his reply. “But I think I’ll have to start listening.”

The crowd cheer, and the pair lock eyes for what could’ve only been a few seconds, but felt like so much longer. She tries to fight the way the corners of her mouth pull upwards, white teeth poking through painted black lips, but when she sees him smiling back at her she lets them go and drowns in the butterflies she’s so unused to feeling.

God, he was in so much trouble.