figured its about time I posted SOMETHING
Other than being a professional freeloader storyteller,
I imagine Tang to be someone like a university teacher (at least in his younger days)
On occasions where Pigsy is far to busy to look after Xiaotian AND run the restaurant AND most likely do deliveries himself (if he had any-)
I imagine that Tang would take Mk to his university and I think it'd be funny if one day, he loses Mk who wanders to the lecture room waiting for Mr Tang
Mah boi has seen first handed what this job's all about!
He's studied his papa Mr Tang's methods, carefully dedicating his attention to his every word (until the next butterfly pops by)
He's bored and he shan't let these poor tall people wither away in boredom and shall only share the highest form education he was bestowed with....
...he started singing the ABCs
And bemused, the rest of the students follow him as the young professor taught with such vigor
...until Tang finally found the child, scooped a fussed Xiaotian up, apologized and started the lecture
(based off one tiktok I found idk the name)
(click photo for less sh!tty quality)
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Take Care
Act Two Astarion x gn!reader
just fluff and angst if you squint, no smut
Sigh. "You don't have to do this, darling. I'm not some sort of child in need of coddling."
Despite his standoffish tone, Astarion makes no attempt to move away as you tend to the cuts on his arm. It had been a long day of adventuring, and your party most unfortunately ran into a horde of goblins on your way back to camp for the knight. Being stronger after a recent feed, Astarion fought most of them - giving him the most injuries.
You're being far too gentle. He watches closely in the dim lantern light as you wet the rag for cleaning. A part of him wishes you'd just hurt him instead. He knows how to deal with pain. He doesn't know how to deal with this.
Whatever this is, his mind tells him it needs to stop. Stop before he starts to care. He doesn't want to care about you. If he does, you'll be another thing for Cazador to use against him when the time comes.
He can't have that.
"Oh, shut up." you wave a dismissive hand before resuming your cleaning, gently wiping away the dirt and grime from his wounds. You sat comfortably in his lap as you worked. Another form of intimacy he was unsure about.
"I've received worse and lived, love. I'll be alright without your babying."
He would never admit it, but Astarion almost... enjoyed the way you so carefully tended to him. But it felt wrong. Why would you do this? It wasn't like his life was on the line, the goblins only inflicted minor injuries.
"I know you have, I've seen the poem that... he carved into your back. You showed me, remember?"
Astarion winces at the memory, and you feel sort of bad for bringing it up. But he just rolls his eyes, covering up the discomfort with a scoff.
That wretched devil. That evil, evil man.
"We're still travel companions, so I want to help you. Regardless of how minor it is." you continue, speaking slowly as you bandage up the cuts.
"Because I'm incapable?" there's a bite to his voice, one that he didn't mean to be there. But he couldn't help it. This was so... odd. "I managed to take care of myself just fine before you came along."
You look up at him, almost with a glare at his accusation. "I never said you were incapable, 'Starion. But you have to let others help you once in a while."
Gods, he hated it. He hated how caring you were, how sweetly you spoke to him, even when he was rude. How fondly you pictured him in your mind, even when he had done nothing but manipulate you so far.
How could you he so naive? He was obviously using you. And yet, you seemed to care about him, which pissed him off more.
He doesn't deserve someone as tender as you. As kind and caring.
Astarions grits his teeth as he speaks. "I don't have to let you do anything. I don't deserve that."
Why did he say that? How stupid of him so seem so vulnerable around you. And why does he want to curl up against you and let it all out? Why does he want you to wrap him up in your arms and whisper into his hair and tell him everything is going to be okay?
What is wrong with him?
You wrap up his cut tightly, giving him a glare. "You're wrong." you replied, short and direct. Your stare made it clear that this wasn't up for debate.
"You deserve just as much as everyone else. If not more, given what you've been through."
Astarion glares right back. If there was one thing he could do, it was argue. "You know nothing about me. I barely even told you half of it."
You don't know why he has to be so stubborn about this. Maybe it's his nature. Or maybe he's just too much of a coward to admit that he's actually starting to develop feelings for you. Astarion doesn't know which.
"I'm objectively the worst person on this team. You should be helping the others. Lae'zel got all scratched up too, you know."
"They've got each other." you argue back, just as stubborn as the elf. "But you, you've closed yourself off from everyone. Shut them out."
"If I don't take care of you, no one will. The Hells know that you wouldn't take care of yourself, either. You're too self-loathing for that."
When the hell did you become so perceptive? How in the world did you come to that conclusion? He wasn't self hating, he was just telling the truth. He was awful, evil. He knew it to be true.
...
Shit. Maybe you were right.
"Fine. Maybe your words have some truth in them." he sighs, not daring to look you in the eyes as he admits it. "You're right. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Damn it. Now he wants to hug you. The feeling he's been trying to avoid the entire time is bubbling up, threatening to engulf him.
Does it make him weak to want to be coddled and comforted by you? Would it make him just as pathetic as he was under Cazador's thumb? Would allowing himself this pampering, this affection, be nothing more than something to regret?
"I'm always right." you scoff. "You'd have picked up on that by now if you weren't so aloof."
You slide off of his lap once you're done bandaging, giving him some space. But you don't leave his tent.
You stay there, sitting in front of him, as a silent show of solidarity. "I'm not going anywhere. No matter how much you try to push me away."
The urge to pull you close and never let you go is overwhelming him. Astarion's not sure if he can trust himself to resist it.
"Why are you doing this?" he asks quietly, lowering his head a bit shamefully. "Why are you so insistent on helping me? I'm not worth it."
"Because you are worth it. And I won't stop until you believe it."
"I will not allow you to fall into tragedy when you can be so much more than that. I've seen your potential - on the battlefield and in camp. I refuse to let you waste your life in solitude."
Astarion wants to believe you. Desperately.
The evidence is staring him right in the face: the way that you care for him, how he feels secure in your presence.
But if he believes you, he can't hide any longer. He can't seek shelter behind the walls he's carefully erected within himself. And he can't shield himself from the vulnerability of admitting that he needs you. So instead he just says:
"Shut up."
You sigh. No matter how much you try to break him down, he stays persistent. "Fine."
"I'll stop talking, but you'd be a fool if you think I'm leaving."
He scoffs. "So what, you're just going to sit there and watch me all night?"
"If that's all you'll allow me, yes."
Allow. Such a sacred, unheard word to him.
Astarion didn't even have a response to that. In the end, he didn't have enough energy to make a snarky counter. And before he can form a coherent sentence and protest, his body makes a decision for him.
The elf slumps forward and places his head in your lap, curling up in a way that resembles a kitten. A stray seeking shelter.
Despite his efforts of stubborness, he closes his eyes and lets his body go slack.
He wants this.
You're relieved. For a moment, you sit still, not wanting to scare him away with any sudden movements. He needed this peace, and you wouldn't dare take it from him.
Slowly, you start to rake your fingers through his curls. Slowly, gently. Like a mother comforting her child.
He needs it. More than ever.
When you begin to run your fingers through his hair, it's like all his defenses dissolve away. Astarion lets out a quiet hum of contentment and presses his head further into your warmth, making himself as comfortable as possible in this precious moment.
Time seems to slow down as you sit there. There's no need for words. After so long of being taken and abused by his master, Astarion finds himself oddly calm. Safe.
It's strange to feel this comfortable. Even now he should have to urge to try and escape your touch, but he's not feeling those impulses.
He takes a deep breath and relaxes into your touch. The tension and discomfort that seemed to define his existence is melting away. For the first time in centuries, he feels he's where he belongs.
As you continue to pet his hair, you hear a quiet whisper come from your companion.
"Thank you."
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