#more angsty than expected

[lavander-galaxy]

hi

@sonderfairy

[thaliasthunder]

dissapointing percy and calypso never got to talk about this in person

[chickenndogg]

I can’t believe in the year 2024 we got a ‘Snap out of it!’ conclusion from Chee, I thought we were over this bad cliche guys… 😭

[wangxianpromptsgenerator]

Prompt 94: Make a Wish

Takes place 10 years after the 1st siege of the Burial Mounts.

In which, Hanguang-Jun is granted a Wish, after helping a Minor Diety with cleansing the Land.

He wishes he were able to save Wei Ying. And that night he went to sleep at 9, to wake up at 5 with his love in his arms, in a world in which WWX never died. And for a while, he was content. Happy even.

Except. That he never found a-Yuan in this reality. Never saw him grow, never taught him the guqin, never hummed him wangxian to sleep.

In this Reality, his Son died 10 years ago.

It kept him awake at night, the urge to seek the Diety once again, to get his Son back to him even at the expense of his husband, even if it meant WWX was lost to him forever.

__

Check the Notes for additional information.

[ghostymarni]

I present my tech mood board for my next piece, I’m really excited about it

[rithshell]

TW !! UNDERAGE DRINKING.

One of those nights.

[sturgill-simpson]

moonlight, or kaguya and I

There is a man in your bed, and you wish you could keep him there. He seems willing to stay at first, to crumple under your hands, your mouth, your near-reverent touch, but you know the truth.

Perhaps you have always known.

He is spun silver and inky black hair spilling across white silk, and you have never known religion, nor wanted to, but you worship at the curve of his hips, at the softness of his mouth. His cries are a tender music to your ears, and the blood his nails draw from your back are a gift from a fallen god.

"Suguru," you whisper, and he calls your name over and over and over in response, a symphony sweeter than angels, clutching you tight as you move in him, move with him.

He sobs, tears slipping down the porcelain of his face, and reaches for you to stay, as though you could ever truly leave him willingly. He clings to you as though you will be the one to leave him.

You bruise his lips with yours, a tender, merciless kiss. You don't let him move away, even when his cries become frantic, his grip becomes painful. It tethers you to him, or him to you.

A memory, a vision, something flashes before your eyes in the climax before the fall:

Suguru with his back to you, walking away into the darkness.

No, you will never be the first to go.

-

Suguru is ephemeral in your grasp, moonlight spilling between your fingers. He has always been this way, ever since you first met him on the steps of the school all those years ago, caught in the midst of a smile startled real from his soft lips.

You had never met someone so beautiful before, but there he was, and you had coveted him then as you coveted nothing else in your entire life.

Brash with the bravado of youth, you thought you could capture moonlight, you thought you could woo a Princess Kaguya who was allowed to wander this earth for only the shortest of times before she was called home, away from you.

And, most of all, you thought yourself special enough to keep him.

-

There is no letter left, no note, no text, no call.

He is there one day, gone the next, cloaked in the robes of his new estate and the blood of the old, to forget all that went before and to look at only what came next.

When word is brought to you, days after everyone else already knows, you realize the folly of that teenager standing on the steps and looking at the line of gleaming silver a laugh made of a beautiful boy's neck.

You were not special enough to claim him.

You were never even special enough to stay.

-

There is black silk spilling between your fingers, the taste of another's pleasure on your mouth, and the faintest hint of laughter on a distant breeze.

There is a shade in your bed, and he reaches for you with open arms.

Don't leave me, he whispers-

-and vanishes like moonlight between your fingers, when you reach for him in turn.

A laugh trickles out of your mouth, and you close your eyes.

"How cruel, Suguru," you whisper to the ghost haunting you. "When I'm not the one who left."

-

I love you, you whisper, to the moonlight drenching the soft white silk, that feels like the castoff robes of royalty gone far away from your callused hands.

I love you, you whisper to a princess gone long before you ever had him.

I love you, you whisper.

-

The room is cold and quiet, drenched in the silence of moonlight.

And nothing responds.

[louwhose]

Happy belated birthday @mistresslrigtar! I wanted to do something in time for your actual birthday but it's done now! Some OoT Zelink that uhhhh don't think about when it is supposed to take place, but I hope you enjoy it!!

-

“Link?” Zelda looked at the seven wrapped parcels in his arms. “What’s this for?”

He froze, staring at her with wide eyes. “I… thought I remembered you saying your birthday was today, back when we were kids. Did I get the day wrong?”

Her mouth fell open. She didn’t expect him to remember it, though she supposed he didn’t have seven years’ worth of memories for it to be buried beneath like she did. “You’re not wrong, but… one present would have been more than enough. I thought you said that Kokiri didn’t celebrate birthdays, so why did you get me seven?”

Link shrugged, and sat down so that he could more easily place them on the ground. Zelda sat next to him. “I thought the way you described it sounded nice. And I think the Kokiri would love birthdays, for the record, if they even knew when any of their birthdays were.”

She crossed her arms and leaned in towards him. “That is true… though I think I’ll have to choose a day to celebrate as your brithday even if we don’t know when exactly it is.”

“The day we met.”

Zelda tilted her head, uncertain she heard him correctly. “Hmm?”

“Let’s celebrate it the day we met,” he said. “I know from the Deku Tree that I was born sometime in spring, anyway. And…” He hesitated for a moment, looking back over to meet her eyes, the light catching his ears so that they looked redder than usual. “Honestly, that feels like the most important day to me. The one where I truly met the world.”

Now it was her turn to feel her face tinged with pink.

She looked down at the presents, and started picking at the twine holding one of them together. “You still never told me why you got me seven presents.”

“Oh!” Link sat up and gave her the goofiest smile. “Because I didn’t get to celebrate your birthday for all those years, either. And I may not be able to make up all the birthdays, but I figure we can at least try to celebrate them all today.”

“You didn’t celebrate ten before that with me, either,” Zelda teased. “Aren’t you going to get me presents for those years, too?”

His eyebrows shot up. “You’re right! I’ll be right back.”

He started to stand up, but she caught his wrist and pulled him back down to sit on the ground next to her. “It was a joke. You’ve already made this the best birthday ever.”

Link frowned. “But I don’t have any cake for you. And you haven’t even opened your presents.”

“Cake would feel extravagant when most people in the kingdom still struggle to find enough bread to eat. Besides—” Zelda leaned in and placed a kiss to his cheek “—I already have the best thing I could ever want.”

[bored-wallflower]

029/Amda headcanons

her real name is Amanda but the computer could only fit four letters so her name was shortened to Amda

she’s pan

she’s a Russian speaking drone

she was a mutual friend of Yeva and her husband (who I like to call Adan) they spent hours after the core collapse trying to find her but to no avail

what they could find however was a drone without and id tag who was damaged beyond recognition save for short green hair

obviously, that wasn’t Amanda, but Yeva and Adan had no way of knowing that so they were left absolutely heartbroken

although older drones like herself didn’t have families, she and Adan were next to each other in the assembly line, they were both the first person the other met and quickly began seeing each other as siblings

during their time in the labs Amanda would cling to Yeva frequently

she was a bit shy around Nori at first but quickly grew to like her as they got to know each other. At one point she even started crushing on Nori

she is and always has been scared of Alice and tried to keep her distance as much as possible, there was just something about her…

she had a bad habit of putting other people’s safety above her own which in the end lead to her demise

before dying she sometimes wondered how Yeva and Adan were doing in her absence. Did they drift apart? Did they become closer? Did either of them have a kid? If so she hoped they were cute and not… whatever Alice and her partner have going with their weird spider baby

[ctwinsduo]

Any Twinsduo headcanons? (I'm a simple guy ok-)

*cracks knuckles* - Personally I like twinsduo as biological twins and not, but for the purpose of my whack ass Wilbur species HCs I'll say they'd be adoptive siblings. But they are the same age and have the same birthday, which is why they're twins (according to Wilbur) - However if twinsduo were to be biologically related, Wilbur would be the one with the unnatural hair color (dyed brown) because it's funny - In theory Wilbur adopted Techno more than Phil did. She got lost in the nether only to come back to Phil with a little piglin trailing behind her, I like to think she pulled a "Can we keep him? 🥺" And the rest is history - Wilbur is genderqueer and Techno is agender, whenever it comes up Wilbur claims they "took all of the gender in the womb" (Which, as Techno always points out, is not even remotely the case) - Piglins display affection via light headbutts (more like a forehead tap than anything) keyword: light, young piglins often have to learn to rein in their enthusiasm a little bit, even moreso with other species. Point being, Techno has absolutely accidentally broken Wilbur's nose at least once with a head bonk when they were little - Both Wilbur and Techno have the capacity to infodump but usually Techno is the one doing most of the listening (half-listening more often than not but shhhh) Techno usually waits until Wilbur tires himself out to ramble, when they were kids Wilbur would fall asleep to Techno's ramblings before bed. Sometimes Techno would ramble to help Wilbur fall asleep during pogtopia - They get into debates fairly regularly about political theory. People think they're arguing (and they are) but they're usually having fun, though they rarely if ever come to any sort of actual understanding on account of how stubborn they both are /lh - When they do argue they're known to quickly devolve into roughhousing (at least when their arguments are more lighthearted) Techno almost always beats Wilbur's ass but Wilbur can never pass up the challenge - Wilbur gained a fondness for poetry from Techno (I like to think Techno enjoys writing in his spare time :3) - Techno was selectively mute for awhile there when he was small, Wilbur picked up sign to speak with him better. They still sign to eachother from time to time (partially for the secrecy and partially because Wilbur's hearing isn't too good from the explosions)

[sortanonymous]

Sorta Angry Comics #2 - "Group Trauma-Dump (and Friendship Time! :D)"

Alternate Title - "Angsty Birds"

[fissions-chips]

love you not

(set ambiguously in 'canon'- tw for smoking, implied nsfw and abuse)

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   At this hour of the evening, even the streets of Chicago were mostly empty. 

   Jon watched the world blur past outside his window, head resting on one hand as the other tapped a furious, staccato rhythm against his thigh, nearly in time with the patter of the rain hitting the hood and windshield. Streetlights hazed over and the slick asphalt and concrete shone red, green and gold as mist lifted from the ground. The storm had begun to lighten, taking the worst of the downpour with it, soon to be gone entirely when the sun rose. 

   The mood in the car, however, remained no less unpleasant than the foul weather. 

   The silence hung thick and heavy between the two passengers, the interior shrouded with thick blue smoke, jet from between Valentine’s teeth as he idly tilted his head back and sighed. It was a mild sound, nonplussed- perfectly poised to cut through Jon’s thoughts and sink its teeth into him. Biting. Needling. Valentine leaned his head against the window as the other man took the bait and bristled. 

   “Shut the fuck up.” 

   Jon didn’t turn his head to look at the other man- he could see him clearly enough in his mind, smirking and saturated in alcohol, even as his good humor dissolved completely. His smile hadn’t dropped yet, teeth smudged as they were with his own lipstick and the taste of another’s tongue. 

   Jon ran his free hand beneath his nose, wincing at the sharp sting to be found there, still tacky with half-dried blood. A pang of hurt ran up the lines of his face and down the back of his throat, teeth grinding together at the sound of the other man slumping against the window, feet rising to settle upon the seats and knock against his thigh. Valentine was pointedly avoiding the sight of him, and he knew it. 

   After a few more seconds, the car rumbled to a stop at a red light- the sunglassed man raised his cigarette to his lips and took a drag. Stretching out to further intrude upon the other’s space, his gaze shifted to watch the cars pass from the corner of his eye as Jon pressed himself against the opposite window, hand clenched against his knee hard enough to bruise. 

   “… Still pissy, aren’t you?” 

   Valentine’s voice was low and smooth, utterly unimpressed- the kind of tone that dug its way beneath Jon’s skin and itched. He didn’t want to rise to the bait, wanted more than anything to be back in his own bed so he could forget the miserable evening he had had… but he was Jon Spiro, and Jon Spiro, more often than not, took any bait hook, line and sinker. 

   “What… what the fuck is wrong with you?” 

   Jon’s words dripped with venom- his lip curled as he spat them out, head snapping around to snarl in the other man’s direction. There was a note there, taunt and strained and begging to snap completely- the man’s hands curled into trembling fists as he watched Valentine smoothly roll his shoulders, still pointedly keeping his odd eyes on the curb blurring past. 

   “Of course I’m fucking ‘pissy’, you self-centered prick-“ Jon hissed, his whole body bristling as he grabbed Valentine’s legs and flung them away from him- that got the other man’s attention, Valentine letting out an outraged squawk as his lower body nearly slipped from the seats entirely. “Do you expect me to praise you for the shit you pulled tonight? For acting like a fucking whore?“ 

   “Oh, that’s rich, Jonny- got any better sticks and stones?” 

   Valentine’s voice cut right through his own, Jon forced to pause when the other CEO once more flung his feet up onto the seats beside him, shoes pointedly pressing against the white fabric of his side and smudging the pale linen with street-stained rainwater- Jon barked a curse and lifted a hand, only to be stopped dead in his tracks by the car rounding a sharp turn, knocking his head into the window. The man glanced up to see the driver staring down the two of them in the mirror, a warning glint in his eye- Valentine rolled his eyes and tucked his knees to his chest, Jon once more pressing himself against the glass and praying the chill from its surface would calm him, somewhat.

   His nose still ached. It wasn’t broken, of that he was sure- but it would bruise nastily. At least his rings didn’t cut me, Jon thought, trying to draw some satisfaction from the knowledge that he himself had escaped largely unscathed- all he found was a deep, deep bitterness, and he clung to it. It was better than the alternative, the well of grief he felt bubbling up within him. 

   The other guy can’t say the same. 

   Lifting a hand to smooth through his tousled hair, Valentine stubbed his cigarette out against his window and tossed it to the floor, grinding the remains under one heel. “I don’t know what you expected, really.” He muttered, pushing his glasses further up his nose. The smile had finally fallen from his face, mouth twisted in a sneer as his voice took on a slightly petulant note. 

   “It’s your fault for inviting me- you know me better than that, Jon... I’m nobody’s ‘plus one’.” 

   For a moment, silence filled the car- the only sound was the low purr of the engine and the quiet click of a lighter as Valentine pulled another cigarette from his case and jammed it between his teeth. 

   “… Then why did you accept the fucking invitation?” 

   Jon’s voice was quiet, cracking sharply as the man dug his nails into the flesh of his arms until he felt the skin bruise beneath. His mind flashed back to the other at his arm just hours before, Valentine’s hand pressed against his hip and his breath soft against the side of Jon’s neck as he purred something saccharine and sugar-sweet into his ear. The memory of the warmth of the other man’s body made his chest ache- Jon pressed his head against the glass and bit his tongue. You fucking idiot, he cursed himself. You stupid goddamn idiot. You knew this would happen. 

   “I suppose…” He grit out, after a long moment. “It’s too much to expect common fucking decency from you… but when I invited you to come with me, I thought you’d…” His voice trailed off, Jon struggling to choke the words out.

   It was well-known in their world that Valentine was a man of few attachments- for all his sweet, shallow smiles and attention-seeking, only happy in the eyes of a crowd, the man was, at his core, cold. Jon knew it better than anyone. He’d woken up to an empty bed more times than he could count, no matter how much he tried to tempt the other man to stay a little longer once the sun rose. He was skilled company, and, if Jon was being honest, one of the few reliable opportunities he had for a good fuck- but god, Valentine had a special way of making someone feel lonely, even when he was sitting right next to them. 

   Even now, Jon could feel the frustration emanating off of him in waves, all traces of former good humor gone. Valentine was watching him from the corner of his eye like one would watch a roach they found beneath their shoe- disgusted. Wary. Disappointed. 

   Despite knowing the other man well, Jon had hoped that Valentine would at least have the sense to play along kindly, when he had called him up and offered an invitation to a business partner’s gathering- scheduled for the month of February and meant for a plus one, isn’t that lovely? 

   Jon… hadn’t known who else to call. And Valentine had accepted, had played the role graciously for an hour or two, despite his reputation. They had danced, even. Like some happy high school couple. 

   Jon screwed his eyes shut, hating the way he had laughed along, giddy with the joy of it. Hating the way the other man had cooed his name so sweetly as he tucked him beneath his arm, like he was something precious.

   Lovesick fucking idiot.

   “I thought…” He repeated. “You could just play along for one night. One. When you accepted the goddamn invitation. I shouldn’t-“ His voice cracked sharply, and he winced. 

   “I shouldn’t have to find you with another man’s face in between your fucking legs, at a party I invited you to, because you couldn’t keep it in your pants for one fucking night.”

   A mocking scoff met his ears, the click of a lighter echoing as Valentine lit another cigarette and jammed it between his teeth. Waving a hand dismissively, he sank against his window as well, idly running a hand up the bruising marks dotting his throat. “Jon, it was a couples’ party. Everyone fucks at those parties, if they can find somewhere out of the way- you’d know that if you hadn’t gotten us kicked out early.” 

   The last words were spat with venom. “Or maybe not. You can’t go anywhere without making a scene, can you?” Beginning to bristle now, Valentine rolled his eyes again, the flickering point of his cigarette spilling hot smoke around his features as his voice sharpened, cold and sneering. “I was having fun- I didn’t go for you, Jon, and you damn well know that. How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not yours. Never have been.” 

   Jon stiffened, fingers tightening into fists once more as he fought to keep his eyes to the floor- the other caught the brief glimmer of hurt there, caught somewhere between fury and frustration, and, having found the point at which to dig, sank his claws in. 

   “Just because I fuck you on occasion doesn’t mean you mean shit to me, Jon, not like that! I don’t want a partner, and I certainly don’t want you. You can’t stop fucking… fucking nipping at my heels about it!” Leaning forward, Valentine snickered nastily as Jon shrank away, pointedly avoiding the gaze of the other man. 

   “Get over yourself! You throw a shitfit when I decide to have some fun, and now you’re acting like this when you have to live with the consequences? You ruined my night! You broke that man’s nose over it, you jealous little bitch! Now I’m gonna have to play the peacemaker when the press finds out- it’s not like anyone expects any better from you.”

   Pulling his cigarette from his lips for a moment, Valentine opened his mouth and let some of his fury roll off his tongue with the smoke. Then, sneering, and with the added impulse of the high he was under, he pointedly ground the cigarette’s end against the white fabric of Jon’s pants leg, grinning as he heard the other man hiss between his teeth.

   Any further insult or injury was suddenly cut off by the sound of a blow and Valentine’s squall of pain, the raven-haired man sent sprawling in the back of his own car as Jon screamed. 

   “Don’t FUCKING touch me!”

   The car ground to a screeching halt at a corner, both men jostled against the leather seats. Valentine blinked up through glasses sent tilting, one hand reaching up to cup his stinging cheek. He winced slightly. His odd eyes were wide with shock- they drifted towards the driver’s seat, the man out-of-view from his angle. Swallowing thickly, he heaved himself upright from the aisle flooring. His cigarette lay smoldering on the carpet below. 

   Jon was staring down at his open palm, other hand still white-knuckled against his pants’ leg- a perfect circle of soot etched only just shy of his fingers. For a moment, the man’s expression was blank, Jon stunned into silence by his own actions as his fingers fell into his lap. 

   Then, his expression twisted into one of horror, nausea roiling in his gut. The taste of bile mingled with the bitterness on the back of his tongue, and Jon slumped against the door- his hands fumbled for the latch that would open it. Goddamn stupid sonova bitch- 

   He needed air. He needed to get out. He needed to cool off. Jon’s hands shook with the unbearable urge to be anywhere else than in the company of the other man- he could see Valentine moving in the edge of his vision, a bristling black shadow, eyes hidden by pink-tinged lenses and smoke. 

   He found the latch and pulled it, forcing himself outside and into the open air, heavy and damp with the last dregs of the storm. Jon’s feet met the wet pavement and threatened to slip from beneath him entirely as he slammed the door behind him with one shaking hand, the other trembling, clenched in a fist and pressed to his mouth to stifle a short, choked sound. 

   I hate him. I hate him. I hate him I hate him I hate him-

   Jon bit his lip until he tasted blood. He wanted to scream. He wanted to sob. He wanted to curl his fingers around the other man’s neck and squeeze- almost, almost as much as he wanted to hide his face against it and just be held.

   He looked down at his hands. Still shaking, the damn things- the other man’s pained yelp echoed in the back of his mind, and despite his fury, his face fell. Some things couldn’t be taken back. 

   Even if Valentine himself was guilty of it before, even if Jon was well-familiar with dodging a reaching hand or cuff to the head, even if his words cut sharper than split glass… even if… 

   Jon shuddered. 

   You’re no better than he is.

   Head bowed against the faint patter of rain, Jon stumbled on in the direction of home, praying that once he made it, sleep took him quickly and deeply. He needed to forget this night had ever happened- and he needed a stiff drink and a cigarette, doctors be damned. 

   And, once he had shed his wet coat and shoes by the door, haphazard, and dimmed every light in his penthouse suit to stall the headache brewing, he would do just that… but the scent of the other man’s smoke lingered, no matter how Jon tried to drown it out with the taste of his own tobacco. This kind of poison didn’t have a cure. It just sat, and festered, a perpetually open wound. 

   Jon traced the circle of soot printed against his pants leg, the slight sting on his skin comforting. 

   I need to ditch his damn number.

   He wouldn’t. He knew that. Thinking about it made him feel better, though, so Jon allowed himself to pretend, staring out at the empty sky and pointedly ignoring the sight of his reflection, etched and alone, in the glass before him.

[aquarii-if]

Liviana has never cared for birthday gifts.

In her eyes, the best parts of her birthday came from the people she was surrounded with. Even if she never got another gift again, she'd be willing to do anything to spend every birthday surrounded by people she loves. She never wants to be lonely on her birthday.

But despite the thousands of people standing outside right now, she's never felt so alone.

While the day used to be spent laughing with friends and eating the small candy her mom could afford, nowadays, she can’t spend a single second of the day without seeing reminders.

Her eyes trail down to the framed picture on her dresser, four smiling faces look back at her. She feels tears brink on the corner of her eyes as memories come flooding back. Celebration is hard when in the middle of a war, but she remembers her old friends trying their best with what they had. Cakes made out of dirt that they smashed and threw at each other, pretending the gunshots were fireworks, sneaking off to a new area to explore... Sure, it was depressing, knowing that as soon as the day was over they'd turn back to the horrifying reality, but it was nice to just forget for a little while.

Now, as queen, she no longer has to worry about the scary noises and the blood staining her clothes. She gets to spend her birthday surrounded by her citizens and a pile of gifts she once believed only existed in fairytales.

Without the friends she's had since birth.

She shakes her head, looking away from the picture, remembering what Estelle told her after it was over. "They knew what they were doing when they started the revolution. They knew the risks. You knew the risks. It's not your fault, Liviana. They'd hate to see you beating yourself up over this."

Estelle's right, but she can't convince herself to believe it. While she's here celebrating, enjoying her reign as queen, enjoying being alive, they're all stuck in Mahina's realm. The only consolation that they're even the slightest bit happy is promises and reassurances from Mahina herself, a woman who is known to not be trustworthy.

She's interrupted by a loud knock at the door, startling her out of her thoughts. She doesn't need to turn around to know who it is.

"Are you just going to sit here and sulk all day?" Estelle calls out, tapping her fingers on the door frame.

When Liviana doesn't turn around, Estelle groans, bringing a hand up to her face. "Liv, you can't keep doing this. Hiding in your room isn't going to bring them back. I know you're still grieving, but it's not going to get any easier if you don't allow yourself to take a break and feel for once."

Liviana wipes a stray tear from her cheek as she shakes her head. "I can't trust myself to not cry in front of everyone."

Estelle walks over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Then cry."

Liviana meets her eyes. "What?"

"Show them how you feel." Estelle shrugs. "They'll understand, they were there too. They lost people, loved ones, friends... They probably feel the same way you do. You're Mitan, Livi, not a machine, you're allowed to grieve and you're allowed to show that you are grieving. I promise they'll understand, and I'm sure they'd appreciate you reminding them that you do care."

They fall into silence for a moment, listening to the cheering and festivities outside,  before Liviana slowly nods. "Yes... You're right. I can be strong, but I'm allowed to feel weak as well."

Liviana turns to the mirror, fixing herself as a small smile appears on her lips. "Let this day of my birth be dedicated to those who cannot celebrate anymore. My friends, my family, my comrades, we shall use this day to remember those who are believed to be forgotten."

[hallafall]

Some mages struggle with the idea that what goes up must come down.

Chapter one of my 11.07 Kirin Tor questline rewrite, for those who really like the ‘concept’ of this questline but struggle with the execution.

Maybe by the time I am done with the whole fic I will better be able to articulate why I felt the need to do this but to put it simply I wanted to write the story that actually gives weight to these characters and world instead of just vaguely alludes to them. Hopefully I manage it :)

[eternitas]

Friendship questions: All of “Green: Truth” for Ava?

OC Questions On Friendship and Companionship

Thank you for sending this in annon!!! this was a LOT of fun! and i am so so sorry for the late reply QwQ

Green: Truth. (all of these answers will disregard any behavior during work, undercover missions or anything else related to it)

How honest is your OC with their friends? Do their friends see them as inscrutable and difficult to get to know? Or as an open book - someone with their heart on their sleeve perhaps? Is the assessment of your OC’s friends or companions completely accurate in this regard?

It seems to be a common attribute among Rains to be both incredibly open and yet never truly letting someone in. While Ava is honest and doesn't particularly hide things from his friends and family there are just some things he simply does not speak about. He is usually easy to read, as there is no reason for him to hide his emotions and when he does, it is usually less out of an attempt at deception and more because he likes to sort himself out first, before he gets aonyone else involved in his turmoil. For those who know him longer and closer it is easier to pin point how Ava feels, even if his mannerisms seem to become more reclusive when he is troubled. Squad 4 and Squalo in particular have no trouble reading Ava even in situations where he himself is struggling with sorting himself out. They also know to give him space when this happens. It's not out of maliciousness, it's more because he has never truly learned how to deal with more negative emotions in a healthy way.

Does your OC ever tell their friends “white lies” to spare their feelings? Perhaps about their appearance or personality? If so, what was a recent example of this? If not, then how do their friends find this unflinching honesty?

This completely depends on the individual. For someone like Leo who is a big tall tree with soft mushy feelings he doesn't mind sugarcoating his words or speaqking white lies. He is also very careful with his wording towards Squalo, as he wants to be as clear as possible and not relay anything that could be misinterpreted.

Lorenzo can get fucked lol.

But in all seriousness Ava usually stays rather honest. He doesn't feel like he has to hide anything and if there is something he would like not to speak of he honestly just says that. This trait is usually taken as a very positive side of his as he never forgets to be polite in his approach.

Does your OC have any secrets that they fear their friends discovering? Is there something in their past they wish to conceal? Or shameful feelings in the most secret depths of their heart which they fear would horrify those closest to them? What do they think would happen were those secrets to be revealed?

There are a few things that Ava hides. In some cases he doesn't even know himself why. The abuse he suffered from their uncle and the subsequent emotional damage, that lead him to psychologically cling to a single aspect of his identity, triggered by an incident, in which he was accidentally hit with the 10 year bazooka, switching places with his older self, being rescued by his older brother and becoming enamoured with his strength. The incident in which he was tortured excessively by an illusionist, that it lead to severe insomnia, sleep deprivation and nightmares, followed by his plea to Mammon to teach him how to detect illusions so that over several years he became a human illusion detector. His deep romantic love for Lorenzo and his desire to be with him, pretending to have a normal civillian relationship, while he is very aware of the impropability of such working in the Varia. He doesn't talk about them, but he also won't throw a tantrum if someone who knows these things tells them to someone else. He just himself simply refuses to speak of them.

Does your OC believe that honest communication is essential in order to have trust in a friend or ally? Have they ever been betrayed or let down in this regard? Did that relationship ever recover?

Ava is definitely a big believer in honest and open communication. He of course understands that there are things people wish to not talk about and he'll never force or demand peoples secrets, but he wishes for people to be honest about their feelings. This is one of the majour reasons why he and Lorenzo end up clashing so often. Lorenzo is incredibly dishonest. He can not openly speak about many things and it ends up with him saying a lot of things that he doesn't mean or that he simply says to achieve a goal, like people leaving him alone, for example. Ava wishes for Lorenzo to be more honest and trust him, so that he doesn't revert to these tactics. It really upsets him.

What is the most difficult thing your OC has ever had to tell a friend or companion? How long did it take them to broach the subject? What was that person’s response?

Ava has had multiple almost confession moments. But each time Lorenzo caught him or covered his mouth and told him to not say it. If he did, no matter how badly he wants to say it, they'd never be able to return. They'd have crossed a line and beyond that line is nothing but despair.

The one thing he was actually able to say out loud, which was very hard for him, was begging Squalo to not participate in the Rainbow Trials. Too strongly does he still remember the Ring Battles and no matter how much he trusts and believes in Squalo, that trauma will never leave him. He begged his brother to not go, to stay and please not leave him alone-- but there was nothing Squalo could do.

And once again he was rewarded with his brothers death.

[snixx]

got queerbaited into reading a book by chatgpt. is this rock bottom