#respect his wishes and yet remind him that he can lean on people and that people love him as much as he loves them

[coquelicoq]

natsume book of friends season 4 opening sequence has got me incredibly fucked up. the lyrics. kid natsume's tiny little legs and teenage natsume watching him run. the lyrics. nyanko-sensei burrowing into his arms. did i mention the lyrics? ending frame on the fujiwara family. including natsume. because he's part of their family. as the lyrics ask him to "please [not] keep suffering alone"? somebody fucking hold me.

[feyascorner]

wish you would look at me

summary. convinced that you’re in love with another, when you approach him with a serious expression, he readies himself for the inevitable—rejection. but is it ever that simple?

pairing. astarion x GN!reader

warnings. light angst, fluff

a/n. this is inspired by the ppl who have love triangles w gale and astarion in act 2 and what he says if you pick him bec when I saw that I almost cried pls let him be happy

If you asked him a few weeks ago, he’d laugh at the mere suggestion that he could ever be jealous of someone like Gale. That blasted wizard couldn't go four steps before begging for a magical shoe or pathetically limping his way behind the rest of the group while you frantically searched for the said shoe. And when he found out the wizard was a few errors away from exploding, somehow Astarion felt even more pity (not really) for the lad.

Yet here he was.

He’s not sure when the hell you and Gale had gotten so chummy, but it rubbed him the wrong way. Even if his expression would never show it. He sips at his wine while Karlach and Wyll continue to chat about God knows what, too busy peering from the corner of his eyes as you lean into Gale’s shoulders to look closer at the book he was holding.

Perhaps the tadpole had finally made you lose your mind. He'd almost dropped his goblet when you denied his invitation to his tent tonight, spouting the excuse that you'd asked Gale to help you with something, and now this?

God knows why you ever found the wizard charming. If Gale could do something, he could too—much better, in fact. He was sure of it.

His grip tightens around the goblet when he hears you laugh.

Sure, his original intentions for approaching you had been less than noble…and he might have seduced you for more selfish reasons than you originally knew, but as much as he hated himself for it, he'd grown rather fond of you. In his own way, of course.

He’d only realized that the anxious squirming in his stomach was not of fear but of affection when you'd defended him from that vile drow at Moonrise Towers. He'd half expected you to ask him to throw himself at her, yet you stood your ground, showing nothing but respect to his own boundaries while you failed to realize that he'd deceived your own.

He truly had no reason to feel this way. He was selfish, he knew, for feeling so possessive because not once had the two of you established being exclusive. Though you'd respected him, you saw him for just that. A friend to respect, and nothing more. Sure, you'd spent a few nights together, but it was a mindless night of passion and he knew he'd continue to be your fling until you found another to truly love. He had just hoped it wouldn't be someone like Gale, of all people…or Wyll…or Shadowheart…or anyone for that matter.

He shakes his head. The wine must be getting to him. Serious relationships aren't a luxury he can afford, he reminds himself, relaxing his shoulders. He’s perfectly okay with being your ally—nothing more or nothing less. Ecstatic, even.

But when Gale flips a page of the book and both of you lean closer again—this time dangerously close—he feels a sharp pain shoot up his hand.

“Uh, Fangs, you alright there?” Karlach stares at the cracked glass in his hand and even he blinks at it in disbelief.

Apparently not.

He sighs irritably, dumping the glass elsewhere. “I’m quite alright. Seems I just need a nice comfortable mattress than a thin bedroll on the ground, but it’ll do for now.”

“Need help patching that up? You're bleeding.”

He almost laughs, if it weren't for the giggle coming from your direction. “Blood’s my specialty, darling, remember?” Without another word, he paces into his tent, closing the flap behind him for the universe signal that screams ‘don’t bother me.’

So when half an hour later, when he no longer hears the crackle of the campfire, he sees your shadow emerge from the other side of his tent flap, he squints.

“Can I come in?” He fails to respond, and hears you shuffle. “Ah, are you asleep?”

At this, he can't help but snort. You instinctively peek inside, and he runs a hand through his hair, sighing in defeat. “If I'd been asleep just how would I answer that question?”

He motions you closer and you take it as a sign to step inside, careful to avoid stepping on any of his belongings before situating yourself in front of him. “It was rhetorical, obviously!”

“Of course,” he doesn't seem convinced, lips curling into a teasing grin. “Now tell me, what brings you to my palace this late at night? Surely not for a cuddle. I'd thought you declined my offer earlier?”

Usually, you'd smile, but instead you only look down at your clasped hands, seemingly in thought. “I needed to talk to you—without everyone else watching.”

The usual brightness to your tone is missing.

Oh, he thinks. You've come to end things with him.

“Ah,” is all he says. He can tell his smile hasn't dropped, but it doesn't feel that way. “I hear you've found a new lover. Perhaps you want to keep yourself for this one, true love? How romantic, darling.”

You frown at this, and he wonders if he’s done something wrong. But it does little to stop his defense mechanisms from springing into action, because he’s immediately slipping into his usual mask, grin stretching wider but never reaching his eyes.

He hates the words coming out of his own mouth as if they taste of poison. Still, his voice is steady, almost teasing. Perks of the 200 years spent shamelessly lying, he supposes. “So, is this the end of our late night trysts? Even though they were an awful lot of fun?”

He doesn’t think he could stand watching you with that damned wizard. He doesn't even want to think about it quite frankly, because all he feels is his chest tighten when he imagines someone else holding you the way he does. And gods, if had to watch Gale’s poor attempt at flirting one more time…

But then again, you'd be with someone who doesn't manipulate you. Someone who doesn't toy with your feelings, or someone who doesn't seduce you for protection.

His smile twitches, and he just braces himself for your response.

“I’d rather be with you.”

He stares at you, eyes wider than its ever been since he'd gotten this damn worm in his brain.

“What? Why?” he blurts, embarrassingly so, before he composes himself again and clears his throat. “I mean, well, I know why—but I thought you'd had something more…with Gale.”

As much as he despises the idea, he'd seen the way you'd laughed with him. And while it was a new experience for him to be fond of another person, he'd found that these feelings had led him to rather you be happy than dragging you down with him. If it meant you wouldn't regret your choice, he’d been willing to deal with it.

So why?

“I want something real with you, Astarion,” you say softly, eyes meeting his. “I don't know if you feel the same way, but Gale and I are better off as friends, and I told him before I came here. And besides, it’d be cruel of me to lead him on while my heart is with another.”

He thinks he might have died again just now. For the first time in decades, he’s actually at a loss for words. “I—if that's what you truly want—we can try. Be lovers, I mean.”

You finally smile at his words, and Gods above if that doesn't lift the excruciating weight of the past few weeks off his shoulders. He feels the warmth of your lips when you lean forward to give him a peck on the cheek, everything happening so fast that his mind is spinning. He snaps back into focus when you pull back.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

You could have—should have, done it earlier. With a smile of his own, he leads you back to him, this time planting a soft kiss on your lips. It’s short, and not nearly enough, but it’ll do for tonight.

“Well then, consider yourself wholeheartedly taken then, my dear.”

[indiaalphawhiskey]

I wish Harry's management would lean more into the quirky angel-wings-wearing, 1D-shirt-selfie-taking, tipsily-men-cuddling side of Harry instead of the model-type-kissing version of whatever Harry Styles™ is supposed to be.

I’ve been thinking really hard about how to answer this thoughtfully and fairly, because I wholeheartedly agree with you. Stunts are useless to me, completely ineffective (even, clearly, to the GP) and diminish everything worth knowing about Harry.

What’s interesting though, is that in my deep frustration and disappointment about yet another unnecessary stunt, I bought My Body by EmRata on audiobook (I’m halfway through). And in the book, she says something really poignant:

“I wasn’t just famous; I was famously sexy.”

That quote has been haunting me all day because it explains Harry’s PR image so well. That one additional word is the key to understanding the ceaseless stunting circus HSHQ keeps putting us through.

See, Harry is a multitude of different, interesting, enigmatic, visionary things to us, his fans and even to the casual observer. But none of those things - not his talent, or his music, or his kindness - is what actually made him famous, or what set him apart from the 1D boys from the beginning. What made him famous, what made him different, what made him wanted, was his sex appeal - his brand and commodification as a sex symbol - which has been cultivated since he was sixteen (gross, I know. Very aware.)

And we can sit here and argue until we’re blue in the face about whether that’s something he does or doesn’t want, whether was pure marketing or something unique to him, or even how many other, more impressive, better, beautiful attributes he has and has developed since, that can and should be capitalized on.

But none of that is actually the point. The point is that this was always what his selling point was in the wider (albeit shallower) ocean that is entertainment. It’s his brand, like it or not, the way it was Marilyn Monroe’s brand, the way it’s EmRata’s brand, and you don’t keep the status of sex symbol by dating under-the-radar, interesting, talented people. You keep it by feeding it constantly, by reminding everyone of it whether they (or you) respond well or not, by remaining controversial and being linked to equally controversial PR personas. (E.g. Tom and Zendaya are cute as fuck and totally respectable. Their relationship is hardly ever in the headlines for more than 24 hrs, though, and neither are branded as a sex symbol per se.)

I’m not saying any of it is right, and a certainly don’t like it and very much wish it would stop. But sometimes, we have to look outward, and understand that things don’t live and die by the hand of fandom, as much as we wish they would; things don’t even live and die by the hand of good press.

I’m not saying don’t be frustrated or mad; I’m not saying accept it or don’t wish it would change. I’ve just found that finding a way to sit with it and understand that we (fandom) are not the audience and praise and respect aren’t necessarily the objective helps me gauge where my red lines are and what my sanity and longevity as a fan are really up against, especially when highlighting everything I don’t like seems like such a personal attack.

[dseerie]

My Thoughts On Why Astarion Acts The Way He Does

While I'm waiting for Baldur's Gate 3's cloud status to upload, I've been thinking. I've seen a lot on social media about people questioning why Astarion disapproves when your character wants to save the gnomes (since they are also under an abusive master) or assisting the refugees and how he is always wanting a reward instead of just doing something nice for the sake of it. And I've talked with people who have helped me put this into better words. At least I hope. So I wanted to explain my perspective as someone who was abused when a kid/teen/even early adult.

I fought my abusers whenever I could, figuring if it was going to happen, I'd piss them off, which was satisfying. But if someone started issues with a different authority figure, it annoyed me quite a bit because then I have another problem. And what if my abusers found out I was involved when I wasn't because someone I was with was upsetting the authority figure? It would become just one more issue I had to deal with. Too many details and nuances to keep track of when my mind needed to focus on the first problem. It made sense to stay on the good side of authority figures to keep myself safe and avoid trouble.

For me, something had to be worth doing or my mind just went back to worrying about sh*t, back to the fight or flight survival response. I needed that reward dopamine. Getting praises wasn't doing it for me, since I would forget the good because of the bad. Trauma brain is funny like that. I needed something physical and worthwhile to make me happy.

It's the reason why Astarion is my favorite character that I connected with the most. Not because of his beauty (not that he isn't an elegant elven man. Just that it wasn't what got me to like him. I'd lean more toward Gale or Wyll if it was by appearance for the male companions, though seeing Astarion half-naked with abs was a real shocker. I seriously thought he was a skinny elf 😳), but because he reminds me so much of how I was and how my thought-process worked. How I kept people away by being rude just enough without them wondering if they should say something to my abusers. Because no matter how many times I told people outright I was being abused early on, no one helped, only tattle-told on me.

And I haven't even completed a playthrough yet. I only just got to the Elfsong before starting a Durge playthrough. First playthrough was an asexual Tav to get to know the characters and storyline (I kid you not, I made my Tav a Charlatan rogue then discovered Astarion was also a Charlatan rogue when I was in the forge 😂). As I got to know them a bit more, Astarion intrigued me the most and when Patch 7 came out, I decided to play a Durge Romance. The first Durge both traumatized me up to Act 2 and made me adore and respect Astarion even more. So yeah, I'm romancing him on this Modded Durge Romance playthrough despite Gale having an interest in me, who is the male companion I would connect with if Astarion wasn't a companion (I'm literally just starting the Underdark area and Gale is already at 100 approval while Astarion is at 79 approval. I wish I had a library, I do have a cat, and I love me some white or pink wine 😋).

This is what my perspective of why Astarion acts the way he does. He's not bad, per say. What happened to him for 200 years has made him what he is. Nobody can fix someone else, but they can be guided to help fix themselves. I've been working to fix myself since I got out of the situation. And I want to be the one to guide Astarion toward fixing himself.

Both Neil Newbon and Stephen Rooney (primary writer) did a freakin' incredible job in bringing Astarion to life and making him so believable to the point he has helped many to realize what they went through and improve themselves. Bravo, good sirs! Thank you so much!

If I think of more, I'll see about adding. For now, thank you for reading. I hope you have a great day. 😊

[iridescentpull]

Pac can’t move, body frozen in fear as he stares at the two people in front of him. His hands tremble as he tries to hold himself up, but the pure fear running through his veins causes him to keep slipping to the dirty floor of the hallway.

“Keep watch.” Murmurs Cell, giving Felps a look that screams ‘don't test me’. “If anyone gets too close, your job is to make them go away. We can't have anyone interrupting.”

Felps hums, a neutral expression on his face as he holds his arms behind his back. He stares at Cell with a look that’s guarded, but Pac can see that the few times he glances at him, there’s a touch of something hidden. Pac would say guilt or apologetic, but he knows better by now. The moment Felps walks further down the hallway and stands on the end, Cell fully turns towards Pac.

And Pac freezes.

His blue eyes look like those of a crazed animal, wide and unblinking as they stare at him with the intensity of a predator. The smirk on his face grows as he takes a step forward, and Pac lets out a whimper.

He wants to run, but he can't move. His hands are too unsteady, his knees are shaking, his entire body feels like it's going to collapse, and all he can do is lay there from when Cell pushed him earlier as the other gets closer.

"Oi, queridinho." He says with that sweet as honey voice of his. Pac's eyes flutter and his breath catches in his throat, and he almost forgets about how dangerous Cell is.

Almost.

Cell kneels down so he's face to face with Pac, and leans over to whisper in his ear. "You and I have some talking to do."

Pac doesn't want to talk. Not now, not ever. He hates talking. If he didn't have to speak, he wouldn't have to talk, and that means he wouldn't have to lie or explain himself. It's better for him if he never talks.

"You wanted to trick me." He murmurs, voice soft.

Pac doesn't have a choice. "I didn't- I- I- I-"

Cell hums and runs a hand through Pac's hair. "I know you did, queridinho. You and that other friend of yours wanted to escape behind my back with JV–" He says the last name with so much venom, like the mention of JV is something to be detested. "–and leave me behind. Thankfully, a new spot opened as you know."

And Pac shivers, because the reminder of what happened is still fresh on his mind. The way JV's body laid on the floor surrounded by a pool of blood (so, so red), the way his cold eyes stared at the ceiling with no life left in them, the way his skin turned paler and paler as the hours passed... Pac wishes he could forget about that day.

"I-I- I d-didn't–"

"You wanted to." Cell says, tsking, flashing apac a toothy grin that makes his skin crawl. "I thought that killing him would be enough, but I think some other punishments are in order. What do you think, queridinho?"

And he leans down again, and whispers in his ear, voice deep and low and threatening. "I think it's time you learn some respect." He says, and suddenly Pac feels the sharp end of a knife poking his arm.

He freezes.

"I've been holding back, but I don't think you've learned your lesson yet." Cell says, pity in his voice. "I was hoping you'd come to your senses and stop being such a nuisance, but it seems like you're too far gone for that."

Pac feels the knife dig a little deeper into his skin, and he bites his lip to hold back a scream.

"So I thought of a fitting punishment." The other says, and his voice sounds so gleeful and excited, and that only causes Pac to shiver. "Something that'll hopefully teach you some manners."

The knife drags across Pac's skin, and he gasps as a trail of blood follows after the blade. Cell smiles as he brings his bloody knife away from the male, and then looks down at him. "I've also been feeling a bit hungry, queridinho." He says, licking his lips.

And Pac can feel the way his body shakes in fear, the way the cold air surrounds him, the way his breathing slows, and the way his heart pounds in his chest, beating so fast it's a wonder it doesn't burst.

Cell pushes him, causing him to lay completely on the floor. The other hovers over him, the smile on his face widening as he places the knife under his chin. Pac feels tears welling up in his eyes. "Now, since I'm such a nice guy, I thought I'd let you choose."

The prisoner clenches his eyes shut, trying to block out everything around him. He hears Cell chuckle and the knife drags against his neck. "C-Choose what?"

"Hm, well, what leg do you prefer the most?" He asks, knife tapping Pac’s thighs.

Pac opens his eyes, confused and a little scared, but also very much aware of the knife digging into his thigh. He doesn’t understand what the other means, but the words he says next make his blood run cold.

"It'll have to be one, or the other." Cell murmurs, a sick smile on his face. "You have two options here, queridinho. Your left leg, or your right leg?"

Pac's mouth is dry, and his eyes are wide, and the knife is still digging into his skin, and he can feel a wet substance trailing down his legs and oh god, he doesn't want to think about this. He doesn't want to choose, he doesn't want to be here. He just wants to go back to his cell, where it's safe and the only thing he has to worry about is how he's going to avoid getting attacked.

"C-Cell, please, I'm sorry." He begs, voice hoarse and tears falling down his face. "I'm sorry, I-I-I'm really sorry. It won't happen again, I promise. Please, Cell, please."

The knife digs in deeper. "Choose." He says, voice dark and cold, and Pac feels his body trembling. "Or I choose for you."

His breathing hitches and his vision blurs, and his body goes rigid as he looks up at Cell. "I- I-" He tries to speak, but his words get caught in his throat. "L-Left." He chokes out. His right leg is the one he has the least control over.

Cell grins, and the knife is lifted off his skin. "Thank you, queridinho. " He coos, and he brings the knife up and licks the blood off of it. "I will make sure to be gentle with your right leg."

What?

"C-Cell what do you mean right–"

And suddenly he feels the sharp blade digging into his right leg, and he screams.

The blade is brought down, over and over and over again. He feels sharp teeth and a wet tongue against his skin, and his hands are held down so he can't move.

Cell's eyes are crazed and hungry, and Pac can't look away as the other bites into his skin. The adrenaline and the pain cause him to go numb, and he can feel his body growing colder and colder as time passes.

"Don't worry, queridinho." Cell says, voice thick and sweet. "Once we're done here, I'll make sure to get help for you."

Soon enough, Pac loses consciousness.

[backtoyuta]

NCT127: When you're a bad student

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

❁ [Taeil] is fighting the urge to be a helicopter boyfriend. Taeil has a healthy respect for your routine but can't hide his face when you said the lengthy assignment is due in 2 days and you've barely started. Taeil is the kind to buy you little sweet treats to encourage you to continue writing, or send you little texts here and there to let you know ~you can do it~. Will sit with you and do something quiet while you work because he knows you'll only leave your workspace and try to find him to distract yourself otherwise. Always thinks you look so cute in your mismatched slouchy outfits for class because you hate making the effort. Plants a little kiss on top of your head every time he walks by you working. When the assignment is submitted he will buy you your favourite food as a job well done, plenty of cuddles as he breathes out a sigh of relief on your behalf.

❁ [Johnny] Loves to joke about you being a lazy student, and is always amused watching you belly-ache over assignments you clearly do not want to do. Will give you the side eye when you whip out your phone to text or doom scroll and likes to take you out somewhere near by to work for a change of scenery. Despite loving to hear you laugh, he knows he's more distracting than he is helping so will exile himself on a mission for coffee while you work in the library. ~"It's for your own good!"~ he'll laugh. After giving you a chance to get in the zone, he'll return with your favourite coffee and read your work proudly over your shoulder. Johnny is the type to give you his hoodie so you can be comforted by some form of his presence and promises with a cheeky wink you can have the ~"real deal"~ after you've submitted your work.

❁ [Taeyong] Is the type to actually show sympathy and will let you bitch about classes, tutors, assignments and the people in your class to your hearts content. Will remind you to breathe with an amused glint his eye when you're done. Will try his very best to help with assignments; google some things here and there or find eloquent ways to make the word count longer. Very good at catering to your needs, will stay as a comforting presence or make himself scarce depending on what's more helpful for you. Wordlessly takes your glasses from your face, cleans the lenses and then places them back on gently because the smudges were bothering him. rubs your back comfortingly when you whine about how you wish you had started the work earlier. organises your notes and lets you have a little cry when it all gets a bit too stressful.

❁ [Yuta] Wants you to succeed in everything you do, but at the same time kind of loves this aesthetic on you. Finds your approach refreshing and likes how you don't pin all your worth on how well you do in classes. Is obsessed with your usual class look, the glasses and messy hairstyles with oversized shirts and sweats- you lowkey feel your worst and yet Yuta is stealing kisses and checking you out like no other. Likes walking you to your classes or meeting you after them, you'll always find him leaning back on the wall casually scrolling his phone and catch his smirk when he looks up and meets your eye. Kind of stays out of your business when it comes down to your work ethic and leaves you to it, but will always be there to comfort you if you were upset by a grade. Will hurriedly pack your bag for you and jog you to class if you're late.

❁ [Doyoung] Respects the way you like to do your work, but will be the first to say ~"I told you so"~ when time has slipped away from you too much. His tactic always includes giving you lots and lots of kisses while gently plying your phone out of your hand and putting it on do not disturb when you're a tad distracted. Gets very humoured when you do a ton of work without even clocking his antics and you make a big song about ~"Getting in the zone"~. Will point blank refuse to come over because he wants you to finish your assignment, but can't hide the smile when he opens his door to you with your backpack and books in hand and chastises you for exploiting loopholes. Is the type to help you with the assignment, but you might have to beg a little before he'll pull out his phone and do some googling. Flicks you on the forehead for leaving it until the last minute- again.

❁ [Jaehyun] Takes a lot of genuine interest in the subject you study, to a point where he enjoys it more than you do. Jaehyun kind of wishes he could partake in the student experience of finding nice places to study, going to socials and parties and fucking around in the library but he rarely sees you doing any of that either. ~"Shouldn't you be working on that thing?"~ he'll question you in good humour while you're lounging on your bed not doing the thing he mentioned. Laughs audibly when he sees your face drop and an ~"Oh shit, yeah"~ fall hurriedly from your lips. Loves telling his friends that you're a student and sharing your major, he thinks you're so smart even if you don't have that much faith in yourself. Will never say no to a college party, actually really enjoys hanging with your friends and sharing drinks from red solo cups with you even though you both know you should be studying.

❁ [Jungwoo] A bit of a clueless boyfriend really, he couldn't tell someone precisely what you're studying and never really quite recognises the urgency of an assignment due in 48 hours. Needs you to tell him how he can help you, but whatever you say he will do to the very best of his efforts. Loves checking you out in your uni varsity jacket and hoodie and laughs childishly when you tell him you got 69% on a test before giving you a boisterous high-five. Finds the bare minimum impressive, if you tell him something insignificant about your assignment he acts like you just blew his mind. Finds a kind of masochistic joy in watching you rush around for your class stuff when he reminded very nonchalantly of the time. Steals your glasses to wear and ruffles your hair when he walks by you with your head in your hands.

❁ [Mark] The most considerate, as always. Sticks out the all-nighters with you out of solidarity, and smiles at you encouragingly with his head resting on the table watching you work. Curates nice study playlists for you. Will talk about all the nice things you'll do once the assignment is over to try and encourage you to stick at it. Splashes out on delivery food and delivers it on a plate with a kiss on the cheek. Scared you to death when you said you'd be studying in the library and he caught you red-handed taking a nap. Likes to steal your varsity jacket but thinks you suit it more. Once spent ten minutes negotiating with you with a wet-wipe when he saw test answers scrawled on the inside of your arm and celebrated with you when you passed with the bare minimum because you did it honestly.

❁ [Haechan] The worst influence but with the promise of a good time. Both of you dying of laughter comparing your god-awful test scores while making a pact to try a bit harder next time. Invites you over with the sincere offer of a study date but procrastination gets the best of both of you with the help of his PS5. Wears matching sweat co-ords with you. Always sitting at the back of the lecture hall to not draw attention to your laughter and talking. Your notebook is full of his doodles and silly notes, as his is full of yours respectively. You guys are the favourite couple to invite to parties because good times and funny memories just follow you around. Genuinely contemplating cheating until you agreed to snap out of it. Instead, you spent three hours to develop a code so you could communicate during tests only for you to completely forget it when the time came. You only started to see true improvement in your grades when you put a healthy wager on who can get the best score by the end of term.

[star-girl69]

I Loved You Like the Sun

a/n: help!!!! what should i do abt baby visenya?? option one: she lives option two: she dies option three: i edit my previous chapters and remove her from the plot

it’s just a lot of characters to juggle and i already have plans for this fic and tbh… she would just get in the way IM SORRY. i’m leaning towards just pretending she never existed 😭

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, violence, super long and boring speeches, mentions of death, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Twenty One- Like You Mean It

—-

You have never wished more for Cannibal.

For the feel of his warm scales, his hot breath, he bright greens eyes boring into you. For his power, his majesty, his terrifying roars.

The king has not arrived, but you can feel the eyes of the Greens on you. You are the unknown variable, the wild card. They do not know you and you do not know them.

But the Hand’s eyes are the worst, you think. He digs into you, spiking through your skin, just enough to remind you he is there. Not outright threatening, but calculated, cold, observant.

Is he looking for a weakness, a low spot?

It is no secret that you have Daemon and Rhaenyra’s ear, that you are their treasure, their horde. And regardless of the dragon blood in you and the beast you ride, you weren’t raised to cultivate the fire in your blood. You were raised to tame it, to sweeten, to sweep away. To stick in people’s memory. You were a Honeyholt. That is how you were raised.

It would be wise for Otto to sway you to his plight, to convince you to whisper and Daemon and Rhaenyra’s ears. But your dragons know that truth as well. You are the weak spot.

They do not mean it in a cruel way, of course, it is just simply a fact. But the protection laden upon you- you do admit, it is nice to be the center of their attention again.

Finally, servants start to bring out the food.

Rhaenyra is silent next to you, only a place away from Alicent.

Before Rhaenyra had you, she had Alicent.

But Alicent had done cruel things to her- tension was thick in the air. You could tell Rhaenyra wanted to forgive her. But the scar on her arm stopped her, the memory of Alicent demanding Luke’s eye.

The tension eases, only slightly, when the door opens and Viserys is carried in on an ornate golden chair. You stand with the rest of the table, shoulder bumping with Daemon.

You sit again as he is placed down. The room is silent, all chatter ceased. Rhaenyra places a hand on your thigh, so much like her usual self now that Luke’s place is secure.

King Viserys let’s out a rasping breath.

“How good it is… to see you all tonight… together.” His voice is hoarse. He looks as he had every time you’ve seen him.

Like living is killing him.

“Prayer before we begin?” Alicent asks, and you look up from the empty plate before you.

“Yes,” Viserys rasps.

You do not know religious conventions. But, you do not want to cause ire, so your eyes flick around the room. Aemond, the boy with the eyepatch, keeps his hands out before him and his head bowed.

You copy him, hearing Daemon scoff. You close your eyes, no doubt he is not participating. you

“May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for so long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the Gods give him rest.”

You hear Daemon shift next to you, scoffing yet again.

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke. Will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena.” The respective couples, each sitting next to each other, exchange small smiles.

Hope for them burns in your chest.

You shall even pray to the Seven, have Alicent herself teach you the ways, if it means they will be happy.

“A toast to the young Princes… and their betrothed.”

“Hear hear!” Daemon shouts, and the table lifts their glasses and drinks.

You see Aegon, the eldest Hightower, mumble something to Jace. But you are too far to hear. You see Baela shoot him a look, Jace set his glass on the table with perhaps more force than is necessary.

“Let us toast as well to Prince Lucerys… the future Lord of the Tides.”

“You’ll be great,” Rhaena assures him with a king smile, and he seems to relax. Everyone drinks, and you let out a pleased sigh of your own.

Mumbling rises throughout the table, Aegon, Baela and Jace keeping their voices just low enough.

But before your worry can grow, Viserys taps his cane onto the floor. He stands, with great effort, and you brace yourself for him to collapse. But, strenuously, he stands. The table is silent.

“It both… gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most fear to me in all the world… yet grown so distant from each other… in the years past.”

He sighs, dropping his head. You feel Rhaenyra’s fingers dig into your knee, although not painfully. She stiffens when she realizes what she had done, pulling back. It is the first time she has touched you so casually in days, and you would rather she hurt you then leave you yearning for her.

The table holds in a breath when Viserys takes off his golden mask, the one covering half of his face. You have heard only rumors. You do not know what lies in wait.

He straightens, and turns to you.

It is skeletal. A gaping hole, filled of mutualistes flesh. He looks as if he is already dead. You bite back repulsion in your stomach, imagine his pain.

“My own face… is no longer a handsome one… if indeed it ever was. But tonight… I wish you to see me… as I am. Not just a king, but your father. Your brother. Your husband. Your good-brother… and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems… walk for much longer among you.”

He throws the mask to the table, the heavy gold clanking against the wood.

“Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances.” He bangs his fist on the table, chest heaving, breaths fast. “If not for the sake of the crown… then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”

He sits, again with great effort, but Alicent attempts to placate him with a soothing hand, helping him to fix his golden mask. Something so beautiful, to hide unpleasantness beneath.

Suddenly, Rhaenyra stands with her glass raised.

You look up, expectant, hopeful, desperate for a glance of the woman you fell in love with.

“I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen. I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood… more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with… unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude… and my apology.”

Alicent stares off into the distance for a moment, swallowing heavily. You think you see the sheen of tears in her eyes, but she hides it just as quick as they appeared.

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess.” They share a tense glance, and you feel something within you. Something ugly. “We are both mothers… and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow.”

I am a mother, you want to scream, I love my children. This past, these secrets and intimacy they have hurt you. Rhaenyra does not talk about Alicent, about her mother. So you do not know. But Daemon knows, because he was there. You are alone in this marriage, in only some ways, an outsider to memories you will never hold.

The Queen stands, but you cannot look at her. “I raise my cup to you and to your house.” You hear the room quiet, imagine her breaths heavy in her chest. “You will make a fine queen.” She inhales deeply before you hear her sit.

Everyone grabs their glass, and you do as well. You raise it to your lips. You let the liquid rest against you, but you cannot find it in yourself to swallow it.

You look down to your hands, hear conversation and movement. You take a few moments to breathe, to stifle your foolish jealousy.

Until Jace slams his hands onto the table, standing.

He meets your eyes, and you see the anger, the fire, rife within him.

“J-”

But Aemond stands, and his haloed blonde hair draws you to silence.

Jace grabs his glass, clenches his jaw and softly hits Aegon, as if they were friends. He inhales deeply, raising his glass.

“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years. But I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s good health, dear uncles.” He sips, and you do as well, eyeing the brown-headed boy wearily.

“To you as well,” Aegon says, but his voice is forced.

Aemond looks around before sitting, and it is Helaena’s turn to stand.

You sigh, inwardly, sick of speeches.

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you… except sometimes when he’s drunk.” Daemon laughs, and your heart twists. You scold him with a look, and he mumbles something before his smile drops.

It reminds you all too well of your time with your first husband.

“Let us have some music,” Viserys proclaims, and you almost rejoice.

You take another sip of your drink, until Jace’s voice brings you out of your reverie- memories of Lord Chamber’s plaguing you.

“Excuse me,” he says to Baela, before standing and walking over to Helaena. He extends his arm, and she looks shocked.

But soon they are jumping across the floor, dancing and twirling. You do not know Helaena, but you think her smile is genuine.

“I…” Viserys starts, turning to your end of the table. “I suppose there is a new member of our family I must meet. Properly.” His eyes fix on you. “Lady Y/N.”

“Oh, Your Grace, I- you are most kind.”

Rhaenyra grabs your hand, softly, tenderly, and turns towards her father.

“We love her,” she says, simply. As if it is a fact, something as simple as gravity.

You feel your cheeks heat, and Daemon’s presence against your back.

“Yes. She’s lovely, the best mother to our children.”

Viserys nods, looking over the three of you with his eyes.

“I wish you much happiness, you three. I hope you can find a bit of what I have found with my wif-wives.”

Rhaenyra laughs at a joke Daemon makes, and you let yourself forget about the past and focus on the present. You let Alicent fade to the back of your mind, and laugh with her.

“You seem much happier,” you tell her, “I’m glad.”

“I know,” she sighs, “I’m sorry for being such a… well, you know. The stress, my father, I…”

“You should have come to us,” Daemon whispers. You nod, lean forward to grab Rhaenyra’s hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to burden you. I felt like I was sinking beneath the waves with the thought of what we might lose if I was not the queen. I couldn’t risk… I couldn’t live with myself if you or the children were hurt.” When she smiles, it is wobbly.

“I think we would much rather drown with you, yeah?” You say, and Daemon nods and agreement. He reaches forward, kisses his wife’s hand.

“What would I do without my handsome husband and my pretty wife?”

The three of you laugh, and the evening falls into joy.

This moment, this precious evening, feels like something precarious. Like tightroping over a spider web. Stitching pieces of glass together. It is beautiful, you think, and you never want it to end.

But it starts to crack when Viserys is lead off my by guards, groaning in pain.

The music steps and everyone stands as he is lead off, as the servants carry in a tray of pig.

You think the evening might continue on, smiling as Daemon insists you must kiss the wine out of his mouth, that it’s the best in these seven forsaken kingdoms.

Until Aemond slams his fist onto the table. You flinch, and you can feel Daemon’s mood immediately sour. You imagine him thinking, who is this boy to scare my wife? But don’t let the smile show on your face.

Aemond raises his glass.

“Final tribute. To the health of my nephews; Jace… Luke… and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” The room tenses as he pauses, Aemond working his jaw.

Do not say it, you think, bidding a fight not to start.

You know who the boy’s true father is. Rhaenyra told you in confidence, and you will take that truth to your grave. To question otherwise is… treason.

Your consider praying as Aemond opens his lips.

“Strong.”

“Aemond.” Alicent says, immediately. But he only turns to Jace and Helaena, still out on the open floor.

“Let us drain our cups to these three… Strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again.” Jace tilts his jaw up, and you fix your skirts, ready to stand.

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?” The two stride forward, but instead of an answer, Aemond is met with a fist.

“Jace!” Luke shouts, standing up to help his brother, but Aegon slams him headfirst into the table.

You hear various screaming, but you are too wrapped up in instinct. You did not make these children, you did not make their fingers and toes, their hearts and brains. But you are their mother, and you are shaping them into the person they will be. That is equally important. That is what matters.

You gasp, evading Daemon’s hands, running towards Aegon and Luke. You stand next to them, hands out as if you wish to push the prince away. He looks at you, and eyebrow raised.

“Let him go!” You shout, not wished to be charged with treason today.

You hear the sound of a body hitting the floor, different from when Vaemond fell, and you turn around. Jace is getting to his knees, held back by a guard.

Aegon releases Luke, and you attempt to stop him as he reels to attack Aegon, but a guard runs forward to stop him. You see Rhaena holding Baela back, Alicent scolding Aemond.

“Though it seems my nephews are quite as proud of theirs.” Aemond suddenly raises his voice, and you do not know where your confidence comes from.

“You antagonized them! Do not play dumb, my prince. It does not suit you,” you hiss, imagining a snake drops from your lips and slithers over to bite him.

“But does it suit you, my Lady Chambers?” You gasp, fall back. It hurts more than you thought it would.

“Shut up!” Jace roars, breaking free from his captor and running at Aemond.

“Hey! Hey!” Daemon shouts, holding up a hand to stop Jace.

Rhaenyra grabs your arm, whispering into your ear.

But you do not hear her. You are rooted in place. Your eyes shut, filled with tears. You finally realize what Rhaenyra is saying.

“My love, my love, my love,” over and over, like a prayer, like a hymn. You wonder if Alicent would be proud.

“I- I am not that woman anymore-” You say, to no one and everyone.

“I know, I know. He does not know you. He does not know us. Don’t listen to him, my love, Y/N, don’t let him get into your head.” She presses a kiss to your temple. “Go to your quarters. All of you, know.”

“But-” You hear Luke starts.

“Your mother will be fine,” Rhaenyra says, and you hear footsteps fade.

You see Aemond walk off as well, after your tears and shock calm. You hadn’t been called that name in years. It was like someone had ripped out your heart. Reminded you of times you had blocked out, replaced with new memories.

You had ripped up that garden, replanted new seeds. You were a different flower, a different crop. No remnant of that past in your soil.

“Rhaenyra.” Alicent says, and you flinch at the emotion she pours into it.

“Come here,” Daemon says, and you latch onto his arm, throwing a look over your shoulder at Rhaenyra. Alicent walks close, and grab’s Rhaenyra’s arm. Your tears only fall all the much faster.

—-

Rhaenyra holds you in the quiet unfamiliar rooms. Daemon is elsewhere, finalizing plans for your departure.

“He does not know you,” she whispers, again. An echo.

“I know. It hurts the same.”

“Do not let it.” She noses into your hair, murmuring again. “My sweet girl, I’m so sorry.”

“You did not say it,” your assure her, but she only pulls you tighter to her. Your head on her chest, sure heartbeat beneath you. You want to fade into her, into the rhythm of her heart.

“When we get back to Dragonstone, I’ll buy you something pretty. Whatever you want. And I’ll get out of my duties, and we’ll fly. Syrax and I, you and Cannibal, Daemon on Caraxes. We can race, dance in the clouds.”

“I would love nothing more, Nyra.” You yawn, feel sleep come for you as quickly as Jace’s fists had to Aemond.

“You are our treasure.” She whispers, and you fade into her.

—-

In the darkness, through layers of cobweb and the thick smell of milk of the poppy; if you listen close enough, you can hear a man whisper. He says, “my love” with enough pain in his voice to make the stars cry. He does not speak again.

—-

taglist:

@wondergal2001 @akiraquote @a-lil-bit-nuts @anginoguera @thatkinkylesgirl1 @stitchattacks @honeypillowsblog @kaloafd @blackhoodlea @softtina @wallace02sblog @tetgod @hotd-fanfic @rxscpctals @iramagnus

[commander-writergirl]

Passover Lesson

Synopsis: Marc still had trouble when it comes to the smallest things in Judaism. But Steven and Jake are there to remind him that you would never hurt him and that being there for you can be more powerful then the trauma left behind.

Pair: Marc Spector x Jewish!fem!Reader, Steven Grant x Jewish!fem!Reader, Jake interaction

Rating: PG-13

Warnings:  light angst

Word Count: 1,263

Notes: Once again please keep any negative comments or antisemitic comments far far away from here.

Tag: @romanarose​

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Jake rummaged around the kitchen looking for the bagels he had hidden.  None of the boys enjoyed Passover, Marc didn’t remember one happy moment of the holiday except for the meals at the beginning and end of the week.  

“Come on, I know I hid them.” Once Jake looked through the last cabinet without a piece of bread in sight, he slammed the door. “Fuck!”  

He turned to see you leaning against the door frame with arms crossed and a brow raised. “Seriously? You didn’t think I learned how to find things hidden in my apartment.”  

You said it as more of a statement than if Jake was questioning your intelligence. But then again, this is what he gets for showing you Marc and Steven’s hiding places for food... which means they were also Jake’s hiding spots.

“I was hoping you would leave them alone.” Jake gave you a sly grin.  

“Jake, I told you just like I told Marc and Steven: If you want to eat bread, do it outside this apartment. I don’t care if you three keep Passover with me. But respect me enough to not do it in the apartment.” You walked over and stood in front of him.  

“We told you it was a bad idea.” Marc grumbled.  

Jake ignored him, “Can you at least tell me what you did with the bagels?” Jake asked you.

“I burned them in the fireplace, cause you brought them in after I already did my full clean.” You said smiling at the look of horror on his face.  

“You burned bagels?”  

“They were store bought Jake, get over it.” You gently patted his cheek and began to grab things for your breakfast. “Want me to cook you something before work?”  

Jake blinked and watched you for a moment. He knew you were sweet and caring and stubborn but now he was slightly intrigued to find you terrifying under all that.  

“Sure,” Jake took his cap off and went and sat at the bar. He watched you as you cooked moving around the kitchen humming to yourself.  

“We told you she was cute.” Steven said.  

“Shush, she doesn’t need all three of us being in love with her.” Jake mumbled to the other man.

“Steven said nothing about love, Jake.” Jake could feel Marc smirking at his use of the word.

Jake groaned and laid his forehead against the bar surface. He sometimes wished he could just beat up his feelings, but he was learning that holding all the trauma made it hard for him to be good with people. And the one person he needed to be better with was you.  

“Here’s your food.” Jake lifted his head to watch you slide a plate in front of him. He blinked a few times. He always liked his eggs over easy. Something the other two didn’t want and yet here laid a perfect pair of over easy eggs and turkey bacon, laid out for him.

He looked over at you to see you cooking your own eggs. Maybe he was falling for you, but he would keep that to himself until you showed you shared the same feeling. And if you never did, he would take what he could get from just being in your life and able to protect you.  

As the week went on Jake found himself fronting more and more. It confused him until he realized Marc was treating this like being sick and Steven was trying to push you and Jake to spend more time together. But you were busy, and Jake took this chance to do more work. Meaning you only saw each other for breakfast and dinner.  

And Jake did what he always did, he made himself a bed on the couch. He never wanted to push your boundaries and he knew where you both stood on the relationship front. Though it seemed things were changing by about the fifth day.  

Jake was asleep on the couch, music playing in the background to tune out the others. He woke up when he felt a weight on his chest. He slowly opened his eyes to see you moving to curl into his side. When you looked up at him, you started to move to get up.

“Sorry,” You mumbled trying to get up, but Jake simply pulled you back down.

“You came out here for a reason, what is it?” Jake asked as you nestled back into his side.

“Bed was cold.” You mumbled nuzzling against his chest. In the back of your head, you could hear your little voice reminding you that this was Jake. Jake who went the extra mile that Marc couldn’t. Jake who didn’t love you, but at this moment you didn’t care. He was warm and comforting and you were so tired, and you just didn’t want to feel alone.  

Jake stared at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at you to find you fast asleep. He smiled lightly and brushed your hair away from your face. “Dulce luz de las estrellas.”  

His sweet starlight.  

[lost-saints]

The Short Life of Edwin Paine:

Late August, 1913

AN: hope you guys enjoy this, I had a lot of fun writing it! I already have the next two additions for this mini-series planned out, I just need to write them :) the next two will be in 1914 and 1915 respectively. I may write more if people actually enjoy this

———————————————————————

The afternoon sun gleamed sleepily across the pages of Edwin’s latest newspaper detective serial. His eyes poured hungrily over the words, unable to anticipate how Detective Bingham would finally solve the Case of the Cowboy Cannonade in so few pages. Absorbed in his own world, Edwin did not hear the footsteps creeping behind where he was lounging across the sitting room settee.

“RAH!” Two sets of hands suddenly grabbed his shoulders, causing Edwin to let out a yelp. He quickly turned to meet his “attackers”.

“Arthur! I cannot believe you! I was in the middle of something!” Edwin accentuated each word with a hit of the newspaper to one of his brother’s shoulders. Unfortunately for Edwin, this had little to no effect on his seventeen year old brother who, judging by his laughter, found it far more amusing than anything.

Snatching the paper out of his younger brother’s hands, Arthur quipped, “Come now, you know, Edwin, life without me would be even more unbearable. Besides, this was a joint effort and I think Thomas should take some of the blame as well.” He gestured to his friend with a “bop” to Thomas’s head with the newspaper. In turn, Thomas gave Edwin a sheepish grin as a silent apology for indulging his older brother’s teasing.

“Forgive me, Edwin,” Thomas mouthed. Although Edwin was not amused, he gave a slight nod in acceptance of the apology. Thomas had always been one of his favorites among his brother’s friends — after all he was kind, accomplished athletically and academically, humorous, tall, and Edwin could go on. Edwin supposed he was most fond of Thomas for having such admirable traits. He simply looked up to the older boy and wished to be like him, of course.

Arthur held the paper out, glancing at the serial’s title. “Another detective story. I suppose that’s what you’ve been doing all afternoon instead of getting ready to leave tomorrow, you know, like mother told you to?”

Edwin grabbed the paper and fell backwards onto the settee with a groan. “Do not remind me.”

“You know, it isn’t so terrible once you make some friends among the boys in your set.” Thomas attempted to comfort. However, this was the citadel of Edwin’s anxiety.

“What if I don’t make any friends…” Edwin replied quietly. His heart felt heavy in his chest, and his fingers worried at the corner of the already battered newspaper. His brother crossed his arms and leaned over the back of the settee to meet him eye-to-eye.

“Now, Edwin, you cannot worry about what these boys you haven’t even met yet will think of you. Besides, if any of them give you too much trouble, Thomas and I can show you how to give them the old one-two,” he smiled.

“Thank you,” Edwin returned with a small smile. Now, it was Edwin’s turn to return some of the banter. “Are there any induction rituals you have yet to tell me about? I feel as though you’re still holding out on me.” Thomas joined Arthur in leaning over the back of the settee.

“Where would all the fun be if we told you all of our upperclassmen’s secrets? After all, we had to go in blind even after the Swallowing Pond Incident of ‘06,” Thomas teased. Edwin rolled his eyes, these two were absolutely ridiculous.

“Oh, no worries dear brother,” Arthur feigned. “We will ensure you are only locked in the most spacious of broom cupboards, and only for three hours instead of the customary four,” he laughed.

“Whatever will I do without the either of you,” Edwin scoffed before revealing his own smile. Whether he was successful in making friends or not, at least he would have one school year of his older brother looking out for him.

[endeavour12345fics]

The Aftermath, chapter 25

A few days had passed, but he stood at the graveyard again, watching as some men dug a hole in the ground next to Eleazar’s gravestone, enough for one more coffin.

Sharp stood by his side, supported by his cane, with a solemn look on his face. The men finished their job and left without exchanging a look with any of them.

Soon they heard the sound of horse hooves outside the gates. After a few minutes, four young men walked in their direction, carrying the coffin on their shoulders.

Both Philip and Sharp bowed their heads as the coffin passed them. That small sign of respect made Philip emotional, as he knew his mother didn’t get that respect in death.

As it was being lowered to the ground, Philip couldn’t take his eyes off it. He couldn’t tell what he was feeling. On one hand, this was a confirmation that both of his parents were dead, and would not come back. It is not possible to bring dead people back to life. Even using the Resurrection Stone would lead to a mere shadow of the deceased person. On the other hand, it was fitting to have his parents resting together, at last.

He wrapped his cloak closer to his body, feeling the cold wind of that January afternoon. Looking at Sharp, he saw him magically erase the writing on the gravestone, then a new epitaph appeared, fitting for both of his parents.

He stared at it for a few seconds, then conjured a bunch of fresh flowers. The ones he had put there a few days earlier were now colourless, as if the cold wind had burnt them.

“It is cold here. Do you want to stop by the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer?”

He nodded, and they made their way to the pub. Despite the weather, there were not many people inside, and they were able to find a table by the fireplace.

“I’ll get the butterbeers.” Philip said as Sharp sat down, the cane resting at the edge of the table.

He ordered them and brought them to their table. They drank in silence, their minds still on the ceremony at the graveyard.

————————————————————————

Aesop was lost in thought as he looked at the gravestone. Seeing it reminded him that two people he cared about were now resting underneath the surface. He would never see or talk to them again. A deep sadness washed over him, and he had to blink to prevent tears from showing.

He felt a wave of pain making its way through his leg, and gripped the handle of his cane tighter as he leaned on it. Philip noticed it, offering his arm for support. He accepted it, and the extra support made the walk through the graveyard and to the Three Broomsticks easier.

As they got to their table, he sat down and stretched his leg slowly, letting out a sigh. When Philip returned with the two steaming hot mugs of butterbeer, they drank it in silence, enjoying its warmth after spending time outside in the chilly, windy weather.

Both of them felt like a chapter had finally closed, but he could see that Philip didn’t seem relieved. Everything seemed resolved, yet he could see that something was still weighing him down.

He saw Philip set his empty mug on the table and try to speak, but nothing came out. After a few tries, he told him that he’d gone back to the map chamber and almost destroyed it with a burst of ancient magic.

Fitting, Aesop thought. Eleazar had told the other professors about the keepers, and how their self-righteousness and secret keeping had indirectly almost destroyed the school. Hell, if things had been different, he would still be there. Philip would still have his father, and he would not be mourning the man he considered one of his closest friends.

He finished his butterbeer, and turned his gaze to his student. He wished he could at least lift some of the metaphorical weight he carried off his shoulders. Unfortunately, he knew that only time can heal some wounds, and even that is not guaranteed.

[canon-fcdder]

✩ 「 @tuesdayscanons 」 ✩ - Continued from ★

「 ☆ 」   It’s discouraging to see Pigsy turned down so often. And at times, so firmly. Would it kill these girls to show a bit more tact when rejecting the well-meaning but arguably misguided Noodle Shop owner? Not that Tang thinks Pigsy is delusional in his quest for romance, but he could stand to choose people who are more deserving of it. After watching yet another woman toss Pigsy’s offered heart onto the ground, Tang had settled into a familiar and unexpected role. He’s never been one for comforting others; most people don’t stick around long enough for Tang to give it more than one try.

Sitting at the counter, an elbow atop and cheek resting in the palm of his hand, he watches Pigsy’s self-depreciating complaints with an unamused expression. Not intending to appear judgmental, his face doesn’t seem to get the message, half-lidded eyes and quirked brow sending a misleading air. It’s just frustrating to witness Pigsy be so blind to his own admirable traits. As well as place so much weight— pun not intended —on things that frankly, don’t matter. Besides, Pigsy underestimates how attractive a sturdy physique like his can be. Tang doesn’t doubt the shorter man could pick him up with no issue at all.

❛  You mean aside from interest?  ❜  Chimes an amused thought, Pigsy’s lament about what Tang can offer ‘ gals ’ that HE can’t acting as a reminder that the other has yet to know where Tang’s preferences lie. Something Tang makes a mental note to confess at a later time, once a more opportune one comes up. Sitting upright with a sigh, he takes off his glasses and cleans them with a cloth as he says,  ❝  Well, for one thing... you’re far more pleasant company than I am.  ❞  Putting his glasses back on, small smirk shows that he’s attempting to lighten the mood with his joke. Steeped in truth as it may be. 

❝  And for another, you’re one of the most devoted people I’ve ever come across.  ❞  Pigsy had demonstrated that within seconds of them meeting, Tang still taken aback at the others resolve. Who else but someone as stubbornly-sincere as Pigsy would wait in the pouring rain for HOURS simply because someone said they’d show up?  ❝  For better or worse, others can rely on you. Not many people can claim that.  ❞  Resting his arms on the counter, Tang leans forward a bit and sternly says,  ❝  Don’t underestimate the importance of being honest and loyal. If a gal would rather have a rich narcissist instead of someone who genuinely cares, who wants someone to love THIS badly... she doesn’t deserve what you could give her.  ❞  

Tang has spent more than his fair share around false smiles and sharp words laced in honey... Far more than he wishes he had to. Glancing away, he pushes his glasses up his nose and mutters,  ❝  Money isn’t everything... Trust me.  ❞  It feels... insensitive, to complain. Especially when Pigsy is clearly struggling financially. But Tang can’t help his grimace, fine robes feeling more like prison garb, the shackles of his upbringing weighing him down.  ❝  You’re making a respectable living. You should be proud of what you’ve built here...  ❞  With hard work and determination bordering on self-destruction, how could one NOT be impressed?

❝  ... And you’re a lot more attractive than you think.  ❞  Tang snippily adds with a raise of his nose, trying to divert attention from the brief insecurity he allowed to show. Taking Pigsy by surprise— even if the sentiment is sincere —seems like the best way to do it.   「 ☆ 」 

[king-and-his-consorts]

RP Rules 

Rating:

This blog will eventually be 18+ with tagged NSFW posts. 

Basics:

I can be a bit selective at times but not private or exclusive. IMs and Asks are always open to talk to me about plotting. So, if you want to interact, feel free to message me. Please do not rush me, it tends to make me shut down to the levels of stress and depression I’m still getting used to.

I know a lot of people don’t like them but unfortunately I need an introductory thread in order to start writing with an OC or characters my muses haven't met yet. My muses can be hesitant or fickle. Unless my character knows yours in canon they need to be introduced because  I need to be able to form my responses around how our muses would actually interact, otherwise I tend to lose muse. 

Important Note!:

This is a queer-based RP blog. While that will not be the focus of threads, it does effect threads. Please respect the info below.

_ Luffy: Cis, Gay Polyromantic, Asexual. (Has a Bi verse specifically for Nami if my partner wishes it, but I won't push for it) _ Zoro: Cis, Gay, Demisexual. _ Sanji: Genderqueer (leans masculine. He/Him, occasionally She/Her), Bi.

Starting RPs:

There are several ways to RP with me.

 _ Send me an in-character ask _ Message me and ask to plot a thread  _ Send in an a starter meme I posted recently  _ Respond to one of my Open Starters that hasn’t been answered already

Writing Rules:

I write paragraph style, no asterisks. Please use a minimum of two sentences per reply unless we’ve known each other for a while. Your grammar and English do not have to be perfect. So long as I can get the basics of what you’re saying then we’re fine to continue.

Shipping:

Shipping and smut only happens if there is chemistry between our characters. Muses must have a first meeting before any shipping officially happens unless muses know each other in canon.

NoTPs: Luffy will not ship with his brothers. Sanji will not ship with any of his siblings. The trio won't ship with villains barring some possible plotted AUs.

Canon and OCs:

This blog is OC friendly and encourages them to interact. 

For canon, I love to interact with most One Piece characters. I will not interact with Doflamingos though. Sorry.

Warnings:

Combat violence, swearing, and the like.

Dark themes may happen. They are a part of life as well as a part of One Piece. If something in particular bothers you, tell me so that I can tag it for you.

Smut:

Smut may be put under a “read more” but that is currently undecided. =

Smut is only for Muns and Muses over 18. 

Triggers:

I will try to tag most triggers. Still, something may slip by, my apologies. Remind me if I miss something so that I can tag it.

Mun’s only trigger is maggots.

Tagging:

I am currently in the process of making a tagging system but I am forgetful. I do not usually tag every post. I usually will only tag the first post of a thread so that it can be found through the search.

[piratefishmama]

The only issue is, it's one of those campaigns.

It's one of the campaigns that has the party rolling their eyes and groaning in deep misery when the OBVIOUS Steve NPC is described from head to toe in painfully obvious clarity, especially because they all know he'll have some kind of importance, he'll be useful in some way, and Eddie's own personal characters, will constantly be flirting with him in some shape or form.

Yeah, even the villain characters.

They'll mention his looks, they'll compliment his muscles, his strength, his daring, they'll openly marvel over the feats of bravery he daringly launches himself into.

Yep. Even the villain characters.

Eleven picked a good one to throw Steve into, because he's just. There. In this fantasy land mindscape, his real body passed out in his room, in his bed at home, his mind stuck there having to follow this ragtag bunch of weird little dudes wishing he'd paid a little more attention to Dustin when he was ranting about D&D cause he's pretty sure the pointy eared ones are Elves, and the small one that kind of reminds him of Dustin... is dwarf socially acceptable? Is that their actual names?

He doesnt know.

Anyway, he's following this weird little party, words put into his mouth that help them along so he doesnt mind that sometimes the words don't actually sound like something he'd ever say, he survives all the fights, is flirted with by pretty much all the random characters along the way which... y'know, it's not bad, definitely an ego boost since he'd been having a bit of a dry spell lately, but...

They do all kind of remind him of a certain someone.

Even the weird obviously evil guy in the pointy hat that keeps popping up and randomly proclaiming that "no matter how handsome your guide may be, no matter how strong, and i can tell he's strong, yep very strong--those muscles--what was i saying?---" which honestly Steve would have laughed at if he wasnt in the zone. (read: forced into stasis until his turn to 'act' came)

And then there's the obvious one.

The Bard.

They meet him in a tavern in some town that Steve couldn't pronounce and didnt want to butcher it in an attempt to try. Steve, leaning against a wall close by the Party's rowdy attention getting table because 'Sir Stephan of Harring Town' only leaned. He looked prettier when he leaned apparently, he never sat down, had to wonder how his legs werent aching yet. Fantasy magic maybe.

The Bard is singing his songs, playing to his audience, gathering coin from anyone willing to part with it, and then he spots The Party.

Or rather, he spots Steve. Because what self respecting charmer would go after a table of rowdy elves, sorcerers, and Dwarves when they could go after the hot knight (Paladin??? God Steve had no idea)

The bard is...

Okay, it's basically Eddie. Down to the slim waist, pretty brown curls, and the big brown doe eyes that really put truth to the idea that the eyes were the windows to the soul, those eyes held everything.

Robin had been right that one time, watching those big doe eyes break? Torture. Total, complete, and utter torture.

He could excuse the others. He could make up excuses, could reason with this weird dreamscape he's somehow cooked up cause surely he must be dreaming -and if he is dreaming it's a sign he's spending way too much time with the kids- the villains, the random people he's never met, the weird side characters, all of them flirting with him or fawning over him but this one.

The Bard.

He cant excuse the bard. It's Eddie. Right down to his rings and his perfectly plush lips. He can't make excuses for how the bard sidles up, flits around the table playfully ribbing each party member as he goes, before settling beside him to strike up a conversation that's made up of mostly come ons with a spattering of information about where they (meaning the party) ought to be going next while the party talk amongst themselves.

He cant make excuses for how he leans in, how while usually his words arent his own, now, in that moment, he could speak, he could make the bard swoon, playful and suggestive in his own words as if his dream was finally giving him time to talk.

He had no idea that it was because somewhere out there, Eddie had set it up for the bard to have engaged in conversation with the party's guide, no guidelines for what they were talking about, the bard was simply spending time with an NPC while the Party took their time to make a choice on their next action.

He'd almost managed to coax the little shit into sneaking out of there, when the Bard suddenly returned to his actual role of information giver and shit stirrer, when Steve finally caught sight of her.

In her own clothes, standing in the middle of the little tavern, the people around her ignoring her as if she werent even there, she stood there, expression deadpan, arms crossed over her chest.

Eleven.

"This... isnt a dream, is it?" He'd hazard a guess.

"This is Eddie's current campaign happening at the Cabin. Please tell me you finally understand how he feels? There have been more than enough things here to show you so far and there would be more if i were to leave you here." Uhm. yep. yep he got it. but--

"You shouldnt meddle like this, Eleven, I could react any way to this information, i could be angry or worse! It's dangero--"

"You like him. It is obvious." Yikes. Was it? Or was that just Eleven being brutal again? "Now you know he feels the same. Do something about it. We're all exhausted."

And then he woke up. No chance to argue. Didn't even get a chance to warn the Party that the Bard was absolutely unintentionally sending them into a for sure trap set up by the evil flirty wizard. How did he know that information pray tell?

Dont ask him, he didn't have the foggiest. It was just in his brain. Much like the fact that Eddie liked him. which. awesome. great. fantastic.

One problem however: How the fuck was he supposed to know how to ask out a guy?!

Steve getting literally STUCK in one of Eddie's campaigns.

Like. Actual normal Steve isekai'd into one of Eddie's campaigns.

Maybe by El, who was tired of them dancing around each other like, "i'm going to help him see." Cause Eddie keeps making bard characters that flirt heavily with the 'Steve' NPCs or couple NPCs that are basically Eddie and Steve just being painfully obvious, but Steve is blind to it and El has had enough.

[shaisuki]

— CLOSER TO GOD

ENTRY #009 OF SHAISUKI'S KINKTOBER 2023

FT. GETO SUGURU + POWER PLAY

— where one person takes on the role of dominant, and the other submissive.

• pairing: geto suguru x chubby reader

• content warnings: begging, doggystyle, talks about being a god, hints of breeding kink, orgasm denial.

closer you are to him than anybody else in his family — a luxury than anyone could afford. you are still be reminded of your position — beneath him.

maybe you've forgotten your place and it's his responsibility to put you back.

you're part of his little family. the others who joined him supporting him of his ambition and the one who he had saved from damnation. you came from the latter. with nothing in your name but with your technique you were perfect for him. that's why you walked by his side through the line of people bow their heads for him.

in slow footsteps where you're also bowing to him. out of respect. devotion. you were close enough to be equal to him and yet, you worship him. his family shouldn't worship him and see him as someone who can they trust and that's enough but seeing you being meek and hanging on his words. he could be so weak.

that's why he's a slave to your touches. that your eyes would be only for him. stare right at you where your eyes would glimmer with hope and desire for him. your laughter it would be only for him to hear. your body is made for his hands. for him to touch. for him to mold in his own. and with this — gods should never fall lower to mere mortals. gods are made to listen to mortals and grant them with their pleas as they see fit not the other way around.

“g—geto-sama.” you call out to him. your voice a little unsure like you were still finding it — similar to a puppy who is yet to learn to howl.

you stand in front of him. looking at him with curiousness. the effect you have on him. if he was a man who is weak-willed, he had crumbled long ago. he still had to establish the hierarchy in this position. he is the one to guide, to create the right world for someone like you.

his gaze is indifferent. maybe there's an adoration on it but he didn't let it show to you. after all you're beneath him and it would always be.

he hums. responding to your call of his name. his sight raking all over you and you were beautiful like you were made for him. he can make out what your body like is under that kimono you were wearing.

intricate patterns are embroidered, with colors of the sun and greeneries woven in the fabric. silk. fitting for someone like you, with him.

there's imperfections under that clothing but it has nothing to do when being ravished by him. it's all for him to see and no one else.

“strip.” he orders with no hesitation. his voice gravelly low, sending sparks to your stomach and you complied. knowing that you can't defy his wishes.

your fingers trembles as you fumble over the laces of your kimono. letting out a shaky breath. your hands tugging at the knot of your obi and then it falls in the ground like a feather. grasping the collars and slipping out of them. it brushes on your bare shoulders and it ends up in your shoulders with your collarbone exposed and you stopped for a moment.

there's hesitation in there when you've stopped in the middle. are you still shy around him. had he ravaged you not enough to feel uncomfortable in your skin and the disobedience. he made his orders clear and with the defiance, consequences are to follow.

he leans down into you. his cheek touching yours and you can feel his warm breath grazing the skin of your bare shoulder. his hand wandering to your back until it tugs to your kimono leaving it to pool at your ankles.

“it's easy.” he tells you and there's a unfamiliar glint in his eyes. “i've spoilt you for too long.” the back of his hand brushing your cheeks and his lips dangerously close and you thought he's going to kiss you and the disappointment in your face. it was one of satisfaction for him.

he could be so mean. dark and brooding. he knows what he want and what he want right now is you begging. watch as you tried to reach out to him. your eyes turning glossy with the cries coming from your plump lips.

“please, geto-sama.” there's a tremble in your voice. he can hear you sniffle with your mouth muffled by the pillows below you. laying in your stomach while your ass is raised for him to do whatever he please.

his gojoseya is already discarded with his muscles for him to display and it's such a shame you can't ogle your eyes on them. you've indulge in them for so long and with the previous marks and scratches are already healing and the fault lies in him. he had let you do whatever you pleased to him and it's his responsibility to put you back. know that he's still in control with you.

calloused hands travels to your back and to your ass cheeks. admiring the rolls adorning your back and to your cellulite in your cheeks before a giving it a sharp slap making the part jiggle and he admires it like a piece of art. “geto-sama, please.” you begged once again and he scowls. “what did i tell you?” he says, giving your ass a another slap. gripping the sheets tighter as you gritted your teeth to endure the stinging pain. “that i should keep quiet. 'm sorry.” you almost sob.

“you're never sorry...” he says. his sight darting to your pussy that is soaking wet that your slick is gathering around your hole. “and what's this? you're dripping wet from just being spanked. filthy girl.” he added. his tone so condescending but there's amusement in them. “perhaps, i'll just leave you like this.” he taunts and you cried.

“no, no, no—please geto-sama. i'll be a good girl. please let me cum. let me make you feel good.” looking behind you with tears threatening to spill. scared of being denied release. “very well.”

he climbs behind you. a silent curse leaving his mouth as he finally sheathed his cock inside your warm walls. holding your hips making sure he's deep inside you before moving his hands to your bare shoulder and to the back of your hands intertwining with his and he begins to move his hips.

your body bounces — every part of your body moves from the way he is thrusting deep inside you. he presses his palms to the back of your hand. grasping it making it impossible for you to move while his whole weight is pressed against you. his lips nibbling your ears and you take it. you've always let him used you. offered yourself for him to use it however it pleases. you owed him your life and to lay with such man, with geto suguru is using all the luck in your life to be with him.

“'so good, geto-sama...” you moaned out. almost biting the pillows just to muffle the whines while he pounds behind you. fat of your ass hitting his pelvic regions and he almost hisses from the tightness of your pussy. so tight and right that you don't want to let him go and you will stay be his side forever.

“of course it is. i'm the only one who can make you feel this good.” he whispers. holding your jaw in his hand roughly. squishing the flesh around there. “yes! only you who could make me feel this good, geto-sama.” you slurred out, drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how good he is.

he continued his movements, making sure it's rough and deep. then a thought came into his mind. he could just give you his child. he knows you're more than capable of it. seeing how you take good care of the twins. he can just give you on his own and fuck, it just made his dick twitch.

“—close, geto-sama. 'm close...” you tell him and you didn't need to tell him. just a little more. grasping your jaw and forcing it to the side for you to meet his lips. pulling you into a deep kiss with his tongue exploring your inside. when you were close to your own release, his hips stutters from his rough pounding and there's a cry coming from you. he smirks from the kiss before getting back into it again.

he's so close too and with a final thrusts he spilled himself deep inside you. your orgasm following suit and there's a loud moan coming from you.

soft pants comes in slow breaths while you recover from the bliss bestowed to you. your body shivers and he doesn't move. feeling the softness of your body around him and he's right. always right. you're much suited under him where he can deny and bring you of bliss whatever he wants. playing with his soft, obedient little toy.

“i love you geto-sama.” you muttered in between breaths and tears. he doesn't say it back. it's clear you know it and gods don't voice our their answers only showing it in another way and he had already given it you.

he remains sheathed inside you before moving again. he could just give blessings after blessings. him closer to being a god and you a mortal is the only one who can receive it coming from. you're most loyal devotee after all ,but before that he must thoroughly ensure that you'll be put in your rightful place — beneath him.

[willowedwisteria]

⁂~Relationship Dynamics~⁂

Summary -> Relationship dynamics I think would apply to some of the characters.

Featuring -> Eula, Albedo, Ganyu

Note -> This is my view! I'll be creating multiple parts so you can send me who you want to see.

Genre -> Fluff

Albedo

"Popular Extrovert x Introvert who loves them more than anything"

Albedo probably keeps his relationship with you a secret. Private, peaceful, and just the way he likes it.

But everybody could pick up on those loving stares you share with each other, the way he's always the first one you're looking for in any setting, how he's been more social about his opinions of you.

He'll often receive many invitations from you to gatherings. Though he would prefer somewhere less chaotic and noisy, it's the perfect excuse to see you again.

Sometimes, he wishes to be alone with you instead of on such grand occasions, holding your hand, resting his head on your shoulder, and huddling up to you to experience that warmth and comfort again.

Due to most of his time being eaten up by work, he tries to send you gifts whenever you meet with each other.

You're always surrounded by so many people, so it gets kind of awkward waiting for the crowd to die down so he can pass you the gift.

During parties that you host, you'll find him standing alone on the sidelines, leaning against a pillar or wall. The first thing you do is smile in his direction and watch his cheeks flush up into a rosy pink.

Albedo finds it easy to maintain a relationship with you. It's a bit of a sad reality that the both of you are too busy for each other, yet it makes it all the more heartwarming once you both reunite.

"Come in!"

The door slowly creaks open, light blue eyes peeking in before entering your quarters.

"Albedo, did anything happen? Why the sudden visit?"

Albedo hesitates a bit, before quickly closing up the distance between you and him, leaving the bouquet of flowers in your hands.

You stare at it, taking a moment to appreciate the aromatic smell. Not wanting to ruin the picturesque order it was in right now, you hold it gently in your arms.

"You know, if you wanted to send a gift to me, you could have passed this to Zhongli or perhaps Jean." You were painfully aware of how busy he was, you never really got to see him.

Albedo nods, a hand on the back of his neck as he mentions how much he had missed you, "We... do not get to see each other often. I felt like this was a good opportunity to spend some time with you if you didn't mind.

Frankly, even during special gatherings that you've arranged, you are always surrounded by people. There aren't many chances for me to approach you."

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you approach him, he retracts a few of his words so as to not sound rude and apologizes, realizing how selfish he might have sounded.

"Yeah, honestly, we really need to spend more time together since we're actually together." You concurred. Your fingers slid into his, softly caressing his hand.

Albedo stares at your hand enveloping his, he looks at you for a glance of reassurance before getting comfortable.

And just like that, you pull him along, asking about the bouquet of flowers he had given to you.

"Ooh, ooh, 'bedo! What's this flower?"

"That's a Cecelia."

"...and?"

"Your grace, with all due respect, I'm an alchemist, not a gardenist."

Eula

"Loves talking x Loves hearing them talk"

There are many things she'll teach you and chide you about.

You do A LOT and I mean A LOT of dumb things. I mean, what were you thinking when you decided to try drinking ketchup AND mustard at the same time?

She'll properly remind you of your manners, sugarcoating her words out of respect for you.

She'll try and stick out for you, but she can tell how those perturbed expressions on the citizens' faces make you uncomfortable.

You're generally very friendly, but adding her into the mix must be bad for you. Even so, you still thank her for her efforts.

To avoid such things, she'll stand by the sidelines and make sure you don't get hurt doing something you didn't think through.

She only wants to protect you :(

Plus, whenever she scolds you and reminds you lightly, you seem to always... blank out.

Though, that's just because you like hearing her talk. You're listening to every word. It's nice to know that she cares about your safety.

Her voice is actually quite comforting, especially when she laughs.

"Your grace, please, be more careful." She sighs, "With your recklessness, you're bound to get hurt."

You laugh, "I hope you'll be tending to my wounds when that time comes."

She pulls the chair farther from the table to allow you to sit down on it before seating herself next to you.

Dragging your seat closer to hers, the chatter in the tavern gets louder as time goes on, you lean your head on her shoulder. She tells you about her day and what she's been up to.

Her missions, her opinions, little complaints here and there, you absorb everything. Yet, not a single comment is left by you.

"Do you feel tired? I'll carry you back home if so."

You shake your head, "No, just keep talking, please. I want to hear more."

Ganyu

"Girlboss/stands up for them x is there"

Oftentimes, Ganyu fails to be selfish and thinks about her own needs. Criticism is something that rarely leaves her mouth.

Mostly in fear of hurting the other party's feelings or sounding rude, she would rather just quietly take it. Similarly to how she accepts work, she has trouble refusing any work offers despite having a lot on her plate already.

You're there to stand up for her and make sure that she isn't being mistreated. Yes, maybe things get a little out of hand because of the few punches you'll throw here and there, but you just don't want this nice nature of her to be her downfall

She's a nice person, someone who's too nice for their own good. Friendly, approachable, gorgeous, she's all of the above.

Of course, you don't outright make a scene. You would normally approach them in a more private location rather than embarrass them in front of such an audience.

I say normally because there are times when they take it too far.

Ganyu tries to avoid conflict, she feels like she's painting a bad image of you to the public.

She'll insist that it's okay, that there's nothing to be angry about, which usually calms you down.

Because of your status, people generally rush to serve the dishes you've specifically ordered first. Sometimes, they disregard the quality of the person you're sharing a table with because they're so focused on what you ordered.

You feel bad for her once she waits for her food to be served while many of your appetizers have arrived.

The sound of the front door swinging open alerts all of the high-end guests to it. The sounds of the descending rain hitting the ground entered as Ganyu stood at the front door, soaked head-to-toe.

"Ganyu!" You quickly approached her, draping a thick jacket on her, "Come on, you know I would have been okay if you were late."

"I apologize, your grace. I couldn't possibly make you wait for me."

You wave for one of the waiters, asking him politely for some towels or tissue. "Your grace, with all due respect, I would rather not serve a customer that just barges in so rudely."

Okay, that one comment already ticked you off. "With the utmost sincerity, she did not barge in, she is sharing a table with me. Please, may I have a towel and two menus?"

The waiter sneaks in a condescending glance at Ganyu before rushing off to complete your request.

Once he returns with what you had asked for, you both begin to order after a quick skim through the menu. "I'll have the Jade Parcels and crystal shrimp. Maybe with some rice pudding?"

Ganyu also adds in her orders, "May I have the vegetarian abalone too?"

"Please don't interrupt the divine one." The waiter snarkily whispers to Ganyu, causing her to pause what she wants to say. You could tell that Ganyu wasn't happy at all.

"I'm sorry?" You sarcastically ask, "Ganyu, continue with what you want."

Even with the food ordered, the anger that you had been bottling up kept piling up with this waiter's attitude. You had planned to tell the staff at the back politely after your meal, but you don't think you'd be able to hold yourself back.

Raising your hand to signal another waitress, you question her, "My guest here hasn't received her Vegetarian Abalone. Could you please ask in the back what's taking so long?"

She nods and rushes to the back.

You really got pissed off when you were notified about how there was no order for Vegetarian Abalone told to the chefs.

"Ganyu, we're leaving," You tugged on her hand, the plates of food unfinished. With how awful Ganyu had been served, she had no objections and happily left by your side.

The waitress tried to inquire about why you had left so early, and you told her to expect a mountain of complaints from you the next morning.

Tag list -> Tag list -> @under-a-starry-night, @yourfaveisblack, @bardisipatos, @callmemeelah, @kithewanderingme, @pale-value, @bamboowrites/@bamboowritess, @uchihaeirin, @karmawonders, @lunavixia, @anfre109, @ly-archives, @zuyoo

Special tags -> @azempyrea, @chocogi, @saigomo, @gunterdon, @lovelyy-moraxx, @emilemovhi, @i-put-the-yan-in-polyandry, @yuzuricebun, @wifi-crusader, @lotterymology, @lina-andel

[guardian-rocket]

Steve's words resonated with him more than he cared to admit. Rocket nodded slowly, looking down at his feet. "Thanks, Captain," he muttered, avoiding eye contact. "I… I guess I could work on expressing myself better."

Eyes narrowing slightly, he listened to Steve's words. He didn't like being told what he felt or needed, but at the same time, there was something about Steve's tone that made him feel…seen. Like Steve really did understand him, and wasn't just trying to fix him.

"I guess I never thought about it that way," he said again, his voice a little softer. "But yeah, my background…it's hard to shake off sometimes. I grew up in a lab…experimented on since I was… well, since I can remember. They were always poking, prodding me, pulling parts off me, sticking bits where they didn't belong… experimenting with genetic manipulation, augmentation. So, yes, it's easier for me to feel nothing and not care."

He leaned in a little, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You know, I've been thinking about all this a lot lately. About who I am, and why I am the way I am. And I think…I think I might be starting to figure some things out... about why I guard my feelings better than my guns." He brushed the self-consciousness away quickly, wishing Steve wouldn't see his vulnerability as weak or pathetic. After all, he had seen him open himself up sometimes – showing his fears, doubts, regrets. It only made him respect him more if anything.

He glanced up at Steve, his eyes searching for something, ad yet, his heart felt heavy as he heard the man tell him that he believed in him, like he was experiencing the weight of not being able to do something that sounded so simple.

"I've tried, Steve. I've tried so hard to believe in myself, but it's hard when you're constantly reminded that you're nothing more than a creation, a machine. A thing."

He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers absent-mindedly as he struggled to find the right words. "It's like… I'm a puzzle, and someone else put all the pieces together. But I'm still missing a piece. A big one. And I don't know how to find it, or what it even looks like." He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of emotions clouding his thoughts.

Steve's words about being emotionally stifled resonated with Rocket. He had been conditioned to suppress his feelings, to focus on his work and nothing else. But as he spent more time with the people, he found himself opening up more and more. It was both terrifying and exhilarating, like walking on a tightrope without a net.

Rocket's eyes dropped, and he fidgeted with his hands, feeling a mix of emotions wash over him. "I'm scared, Steve. I'm scared of being hurt, of being rejected, of being abandoned. And I don't know how to overcome that fear."

"Well hiding too much will always get you into trouble in the end. People want to know that you feel like they do. No one wants to be emotionally stifled or have someone around that can't express themselves at all."

"You're a good guy Rocket, you just need to believe in yourself the way I believe in you. I can't help but think most of this is just coming from your background. Not that I know it but rather just have a feeling most people were made to hide themselves...not born that way."