#so it’s almost understandable that he doesn’t often open up about his thought process when it’s easier to just do it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

burr-ell · 3 months

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Honestly, it feels really good seeing Claude fan who also happens to love Lady Rhea. There's really not enough of us

Sending love 💛💚

anon this warmed my heart so much im gonna give u a snippet from the claude & rhea friendship fic i never got around to finishing <3

He took a deep breath and knocked.

“Enter.”

He opened the door and stepped into the archbishop’s chambers. The atmosphere was surprisingly soothing, sunlight streaming through the windows and a floral perfume permeating the air. Rhea was sitting up in her nice, if plain-looking, canopy bed, resting against a couple of squashy pillows with a teacup and a book on the bedside table.

“You wished to see me, Claude?” she asked.

“I did.”

“I take it you have further questions?”

“Thought I’d come to pick your brain,” he said easily. “You’re the only one who’s ever taken on Nemesis directly. We need all the help we can get straight from the source.”

Rhea smiled, almost unnervingly genuine. “I can advise you, provided we discuss what’s really on your mind first.”

He’d expected her to be able to disarm him, but he hadn’t expected her to be so pleasant about it. Still, he was nothing if not nimble. “That easy to read, am I?”

“Not at all, actually. Seteth has often complained of it to me.” Her eyes flicked upward, a practiced gesture of exasperated fondness. “But do not forget that I have been in hiding for over a thousand years. There are many skills I lack, but I can detect a master of the craft.”

“Then it looks like we’re on the same playing field.”

Rhea sighed. “I cannot force you to lower your guard, nor do I expect it, but…please, at least have a seat.”

She gestured to the chair next to her bed, and Claude seated himself, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“I gather you would still like to know more of the story of your professor.”

“There are still so many things that Byl—Teach still doesn’t know.”

“Including that you are here speaking with me.”

Claude nodded—he’d have been more surprised if she hadn’t guessed. “I didn’t want to worry her. And I think…she needs time before she can speak to you objectively.”

Rhea heaved a sigh, tipping her head back against the bed frame. “I understand. I—I gave you both quite enough information to take in. And…and she must be feeling…I cannot possibly understand what.”

“Neither can she.” He was careful to keep his tone neutral, but it was hard not to be accusatory.

“I owe her many apologies,” Rhea said softly. “Apologies that I cannot expect her to accept.”

“I can’t speak to where her head’s at right now,” Claude said slowly (honestly, Byleth’s head was still an enigma to him sometimes), “but I don’t think she’s—angry. She’s just…” He pressed his lips together in thought, then continued. “She’s spent her whole life being treated like a tool. And then she came here and sort of…found herself. And then she found out that someone who helped make that happen also wanted to use her.” He would know. He’d done the very same thing, before he’d gotten to know his best friend. His…well.

Rhea closed her eyes miserably. “I know. I have greatly wronged her.”

“She also understands why you did it,” Claude continued, “and why you kept it a secret. It’s just…a lot to process. Especially for someone who for so long didn’t even understand how to really feel anything.”

“And what about you?”

Claude tipped his head. “Me?”

Rhea frowned. “You are known for your inquisitiveness, and your thirst for knowledge. Yet you did little to question what I revealed to you. Why?”

Claude propped his chin in one hand, rubbing his lip thoughtfully with his index finger. “Honestly…what you told us made everything I’d been looking at for five years click into place. Just looking at the Relics alone, knowing what we know, and you can tell they’re made of—y’know.”

Rhea nodded, in a resigned sort of way.

“But if you don’t know the full story,” Claude went on, “you might not really think about it. Most people can’t use them, and they’re kept hidden away when they’re not being wielded. Even I didn’t get a look at Failnaught until my grandfather actually passed and I inherited the estate.”

Churning insides were nothing new to Claude, having dealt with them both naturally and otherwise, but even mentioning the bow was making him a bit queasy. How he’d yearned for the chance to wield it, knowing it would give him the opportunity to study it up close and grant him the power to achieve his greatest dreams, and now…

“It all makes sense now,” he continued softly. “I’ve never heard of something so horrific. And the way Seteth and Flayn are so secretive, and how upset Seteth was when Flayn went missing…” He paused, mulling over whether to reveal this particular piece of information—but it was unlikely that Rhea hadn’t seen such a thing coming, and at any rate, in light of all she’d shared with them, she deserved as full a story as he could give in return. “Seteth once confiscated a diagram I was showing Teach, of a creature called The Immaculate One. It had already given me some clues about Crest stones and Relics. At the time I thought it was because the church had something to hide…and in a way, I was right. And now I know that he was right to take it.”

Claude leaned a little closer, meeting Rhea’s eyes and their combined relief and sorrow. It was an expression he knew well—of finally finding someone who understood. “I didn’t even think to say it before. I am so, so sorry, for everything that happened to you. No one deserves to live in fear just because of who they are.”

“You…” Rhea swallowed thickly, eyes misting. Claude fell silent and averted his gaze, giving her a moment to regain her composure.

She took a deep breath. “Your words touch my heart—truly, they do. Yours is a perspective gained from cruel experience.”

She knew. Or at least she’d guessed. It was unsurprising, really, but he couldn’t help the thrill of anxiety pulsing in the back of his mind. Even so…there was an odd kinship here, one he didn’t even feel with Byleth when they discussed it, that kept his panic at bay. “Yeah,” he murmured, “I do. I know better than most people what it’s like to be resented and hated for being who I am. And what I’ve been through…it can’t even compare to what happened to you, and Seteth and Flayn.”

Rhea smiled, eyes still watery. “Such things are not competitive. At the end of it all, there are others who understand.”

#fe3h #claude von riegan #lady rhea #archbishop rhea #fe3h fanfic #burr writes #asks

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tripleyeeet · 7 months

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WTF ARE WE TALKING FOR?

SUMMARY: Zayis and Astarion argue their way through the insides of the Nautiloid!

PAIRING: Astarion & Zayis (OFC)

WORD COUNT: 5,400

WARNINGS: Canon typical violence, old married couple style bickering mostly.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to everyone who's been so kind to Zayis! I love her dearly so I'm very glad there's people out there that are enjoying her too. :') Also big inspo for this chapter goes to Labrinth and this song.

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST

Zayis is upright and locked in place the first time she comes to. Against the mechanism that holds her down, her eyes slowly flutter open, working to focus on the dimly lit area in front of her, noticing it’s all flesh and bone —a structure that looks to be inside of something foreign.

As she blinks, the first thing she sees is the bubbled cover over top of her, shielding her from further movement as her eyes dart back and forth, suddenly focusing on the tissue that covers the walls. Narrowing her eyes at the weblike strands of muscle, she quickly wonders if they’re truly made of flesh or not before spotting a couple of unfamiliar structures.

The first is a series of pod-like containers similar to the one she currently finds herself encased in. All of them are set up in a deliberate circle, facing each other so that she can see the other people trapped inside. For now, all of them are knocked unconscious except for a brown-haired man who doesn’t seem to notice her. Looking around, his eyes are wide as they work to scan the area, stopping every so often to narrow at specifics.

Just like her, his body is tethered to the contraption they both find themselves in, forcing his hands to remain at his sides as he grits his teeth and begins to struggle. Watching him shift, Zayis immediately attempts to do the same, feeling the pull of her shackles restrict her movement as she rolls her shoulders, trying angrily to slither out somehow.

When it doesn’t work she merely huffs and begins to look around again, noticing in the corner of the room there’s a sort of work table occupied by a cloaked body. Standing tall against its edge, Zayis cocks her head and tries to get a better angle somehow, failing quite miserably when she accidentally bonks her head against the glass.

Suddenly startled, she scrunches up her face and pulls back, watching the man from before catch her attention, his eyes growing wider —a newfound desperation filling his features. Aggressively, his mouth moves across her sightline, forcing her to focus on the way it curls beneath his well-groomed beard, attempting to garner further attention. Failing, however, to convey his message thanks to the distance between them.

Unbeknownst to this though, the man continues repeating his words, widening his mouth to the point where Zayis merely shakes her head and scowls, causing him to furrow his brow before repeating the process —this time with actual words.

His voice is faint. A muffled echo that hits the lid of her pod but she still understands. “Mind flayer,” he says, partially clear, causing the words to hit her ears like a stack of tumbling books, sending her mind on a journey of emotions as she looks back at the worktable.

Almost immediately, the body that resides there stiffens at the sound of the stranger’s voice. Stretching its spine to its full extent, there’s only about half a second before it fully turns, revealing the aforementioned creature in all its horror, prompting Zayis to whine.

She’s always had an irrational fear of mind flayers, despite knowing their presence is few and far between inside the walls of Baldur’s Gate. Even as a child she was always teased when the topic was brought up —laughed at whenever she shuddered at the thought of seeing one in person.

Now that she’s face to face with one, all she can think about is her brother. How when she was seven she lay terrified under the covers of her bed, listening to the endless theatrics of Dharmir’s voice describing the way they’d brainwash their victims by sticking tadpoles in their eyes.

Immediately, her own eyes twitch at such a thought, pulsing almost rapidly to match the lack of breath that hits her chest once she realizes that that’s most likely what she’s about to experience. How, as her brother deeply described, she’ll be gifted with her own little wriggler before turning into a mind flayer herself in just a matter of days.

Reluctantly remembering this information, a wave of anxiety hits then. The uneasy feeling quickly blooming out from the depths of her stomach —rushing so quick that she can feel it take over her body in a matter of seconds, pushing her limbs to violently shake against the shackles that hold her, watching as the aforementioned creature turns, making her squeal.

If she wasn’t so terrified by the image of the mind flayer’s violet eyes encased in dark obsidian, she’d be closing her own in embarrassment. Attempting to regain her composure, she watches it begin to move forward, practically slithering beneath its long, dark cloak until it’s face-to-face with the window of her pod.

When it arrives, she all but freezes upon the impact of its icy stare, suddenly hearing the echoing facts of her brother’s twelve-year-old voice telling her of her future. Telling her that it’s only a matter of time before the tadpole burrows into the backing of her eye to nestle up against her nerves.

Trying not to think about it, she swallows hard and stares as it motions outward with the wave of its hand, triggering a click within the hood of her enclosure. Seemingly out of nowhere, it hisses open on command, wafting a heavy breeze across her exposed skin, making her shiver for a moment before she opens her mouth, attempting to speak.

Unsurprisingly, nothing comes out. Not even a nervous squeak like before. Instead, all that happens is her jaw begins to clench. Both sets of teeth tightening together as she imagines the lower half of her face being ripped apart to make room for the same tentacles she now sees before her.

Tentacles that move when she suddenly wines, gliding through the air almost absentmindedly, forcing her stomach to churn, knowing any sort of attempted communication is futile. Because while the creature is upright, sure, moving closer and closer until it’s practically breathing in her face and blinking, she knows it’s not of its own accord. No, something’s commanding it —guiding it to raise one of its appendages to stroke her cheek while another unfurls her greatest fear.

The tadpole is small in its gasp. Wiggling against the cool-toned flesh of the flayer, it skitters loudly and inches towards her face, sending Zayis into another fit of panic that has her throwing herself back in an attempt to increase the distance, despite knowing it’s all for naught. Knowing that —in all her anxiously spurred research over the years— very rarely do people survive a mind flayer attack.

Which makes sense, considering how powerful they’re known to be. Having a seemingly limitless amount of power, it’s no wonder both she and Astarion were caught off guard. How before either of them could even think to retaliate they were already lost to the darkness of their shared unconsciousness.

In less than a couple of seconds they were rendered useless. Knocked into submission and torn from their respective lives; a thought that makes Zayis panic even harder as she cranes her neck to the side, trying to spot the elf.

Despite the obvious excitement of the tadpole as it continues to creep closer, all Zayis can do is focus on the pods. One by one, as each flashes through her vision, she explores the features of each contained person. A dark-skinned man, a Githyanki woman —the bearded man practically shaking himself to death. Most of them lie unresponsive, lost to a sea of blissful unawareness as the man directly across from her starts to yell.

This time she can’t quite hear what he’s saying. Too focused on finding Astarion, her mind blocks out the pleading sounds he emits, giving her eyes more attention as she finally lands on his pale face.

It’s in and out of consciousness. From across the way, she can see his eyes trying to pry themselves open, his head slowly falling back until it hits a certain point and he’s jostled awake.

As soon as that happens Zayis yells his name. Over and over, her voice carries far better than that of the other man thanks to her open pod, hitting his ears after about the fifth go, grabbing his attention just as the tadpole hits her cheek.

Despite wanting to remain calm, she all but lets out a nervous sound and looks down as it happens, watching through her peripherals as it begins to inch up her skin, leaving behind a mucus trail. Once again, attempting to rip herself out of the pod, her body shakes with newfound intensity at the feeling, discarding the sight of Astarion, who follows suit a few pods down, calling her name in response.

“Fuck, fuck fuck…”

Her chest heaves at the unwanted anticipation. Aching in a way she hasn’t felt in quite some time, her lack of composure makes it hard to register the fact that the tadpole is now at her eye, poking the edge with curiosity —testing the waters before it inevitably dives in, prompting her to scream.

It’s more painful than she ever could have imagined. Comparable to that of a stab wound, its teeth rip through the edge of her cornea, laying waste to her nerves as bouts of blooming pain radiate across her face the further it gets.

It makes her wish she was already dead. Instead of enduring this pain she knows will only end in the dying of her own mind, she wishes she could yell for Astarion to chuck his blade at her head. To kill her before she can turn into the same creature that stands before her, staring with empty eyes as she continues to cry and squirm, eventually letting the agony of it all overcome her.

The second time she comes to, her pod is hissing open again.

Stirring awake, the jump from confusion to awareness is much quicker this time, lasting only a couple of seconds before she’s leaping onto the ground, stumbling to her knees. Groaning low, she whips her head up to look around, noticing the open pods that lay strewn about, all of them empty aside from the one Astarion sits in, eyes shut tight in annoyance.

Upon noticing this, Zayis shakily stands and palms the base of her wrists, rubbing rough patterns into the bruises that have formed as she tries her best to move as efficiently as possible.

Still in the pod, Astarion remains unaware of her presence as she does this. Too caught up in whatever thoughts float through his mind, he’s completely still up until the point Zayis slaps a palm to the cover, making him jump.

“You fucking —this isn’t the time for games, you idiot! Get me out of here!”

Immediately, she laughs and steps back, taking in the way he grits his teeth —a newfound expression of annoyance lacing his features.

“An old fashioned please might be nice.”

“Oh, piss off.”

He rolls his shoulders against the shackles, ignoring her as he grunts with every pull, prompting Zayis to look around the room again.

Unlike before the space is completely ruined. Subtle flames lick the edges of the room, threatening to further ignite amongst the rubble that’s been uplifted throughout. Narrowing her eyes further, her gaze eventually wanders to the body of the mind flayer. Partially burnt and no longer breathing, she ignores Astarion’s continued pleading to let him out in favour of looting the creature's pockets, finding a well-worn blade as well as what looks to be some kind of rune.

“Yes! Wonderful idea! Focus on stealing Illithid garbage rather than saving your only chance at survival!”

She turns on her heel, running her finger along the edge of the knife as she wanders back, giving him a smug look. “I’d say my chances are better than yours, Fangs. All things considered.”

“They’d grow greatly with help though, wouldn’t they?”

“Hm, would they?” Her brow quirks up as she shoves the mind flayer’s knife into the holster on her hip, debating the odds. Sure, with Astarion, if they’re ambushed in any way their chances of surviving are nearly doubled. Considering they’re both skilled fighters and have developed a strong compatibility on the battlefield, it’s very rare they ever lose. Often fighting as dirty as possible, their ability to play off one another without much thought has become second nature —an unspoken language of movement after years of practice.

Because of this, Zayis knows she should let him out, that instead of being resentful of his constant poor attitude, she should be happy that he’s willing to work with her instead of against her. Especially because it’s not every day he comes around so willingly.

“If I let you out are you going to be nice?”

Unsurprisingly, Astarion huffs and rolls his eyes. “Yes, fine. I’ll be nice. Whatever you want. Just please get me out of this damned thing I’m starting to lose feeling in my fucking hands.”

His body returns to its previous struggle, knocking about the pod violently while Zayis tries to find a way to get him out.

“Did you see how it opened?”

“No.”

She sighs and turns towards the mind flayer again, trying to remember how it opened hers. In the moment, all she saw was the flick of its finger. A simple motion used to pry the contraption open. Nothing physical in the slightest.

“I think it used its powers to open it.”

“Really? I never would’ve guessed.”

His voice is laced with a sarcasm she doesn’t enjoy. Looking back to glare at him, she narrows her eyes and tries to focus on the pod, glancing at all the etchings that surround the glass. The designs are intricate, looking almost veiny, curling up to wrap around the glass container Astarion still sits in and ultimately, it just makes her shudder to remember how it felt.

“Maybe I could—“

“Could what? Will it open with your mind?” He lets out a single ha, sounding so patronizing that Zayis can’t help but want to leave him right then and there.

“Well, do you have any other ideas?”

“A few. None that you’ll listen to though.”

Proving his point, Zayis closes her eyes and focuses on the pod instead of listening, feeling nothing but the pulsating ache behind her eye that reminds her of the creature that now sits there.

Instantly, a shiver runs up her spine at the thought, her body twitching as it stirs awake, prompting the pain to worsen. Then, all at once, her head begins to feel like it’s splitting open. Raising her hands to her face, she grips her temples tightly and doubles over, feeling a body of hands lay waste to her frame —all of them weighing her down for merely a moment. Grabbing handfuls of her skin, they work together to bring her to the ground as they laugh, their cackles pushing through her head until suddenly everything is normal again. As if nothing ever happened.

“What the hells was that?”

She turns to Astarion who’s breathing rather heavily, his chest rising and falling at such a rapid pace Zayis can’t help but feel a bit worried. It’s not like him to rattle so easily. Having endured enough bullshit in his time, he’s quite possibly the most resilient person she knows. So obviously, whatever it was he saw in that moment must’ve really spooked him.

“The tadpole’s doing, probably.”

Despite not knowing if that’s true, Zayis says it so confidently that all Astarion does is give her a quick nod, watching her spring into action once again, sifting through the room for clues until she eventually finds some sort of control panel. Once there, she gently runs her hand along the face, trying to find her way around until she remembers the rune.

There’s a hole that’s about the same size at the centre of the panel. Taking it from her pocket, she turns the object over and studies the markings, running her fingers along the edge before she ultimately decides to take a chance and shove it in.

As soon as she does, her mind wanders to the image of the pod opening like before. Of the mind flayer standing in front of her with its raised hand, willing her release. In clear detail, she can see the twitch of its index finger —the way its subtle movement previously pushed the whole thing open.

As she does this, that familiar hiss rings out, causing her to see the breath of relief Astarion lets out once the air hits his face.

“Thanks gods, it was absolutely boiling in there,” he says, and immediately she rushes to his side, watching the wobbly way he reaches out to grab her helping hands before realizing what he’s doing and swatting them away.

“Let’s get the fuck out here.”

Neither of them wastes any time. Moving through the wreckage, they quickly find themselves at a door made of flesh. One the peels open with a squelch causing both of them to cringe in response and hurry through. After that, they explore the new room they now find themselves in, Astarion moving towards a pile of fresh bodies while Zayis moves to the second floor, spotting a half-conscious man.

His head is completely cut open, revealing a twitching brain the closer she gets. Scrunching up her nose, she watches as it forces the half-dead body around the chair it occupies, whispering muffled words into her ears until she’s directly in front of it.

Save Us from this husk!

Its voice is an amalgamation of different vocals. Layered on top of each other, the sound immediately piques Zayis’s interest, willing her to take a half step closer in response. “Save you?”

Please! Before they return!

Raising her brow, she quickly glances at Astarion for a second opinion, watching as he continues fishing through pockets before looking back at the creature before her, remembering that she doesn’t need one.

“Wait, who’s they?”

The enemy! So many enemies!

The brain quivers then. Somehow nestling further into the skull it sits in, Zayis stands there a moment, beginning to weigh the options.

Because she could save the brain and risk possible deception. But something at the back of her mind tells her the creature isn’t quite intelligent enough to come up with such a plan. Considering it appears to be brand new, she’s sure the only thoughts it really knows are that of its surroundings and perhaps the memories of the human it currently occupies.

“Zayis! What the hell are you doing up there? Hurry up!”

Even when Astarion calls to her, her eyes never leave the brain as she continues to think. Instead, all they do is focus harder, watching it wiggle inside the cavity it houses, trying to break free as it speaks of needing to be saved again.

“I think I found us a little friend!”

“A what?”

Once again, the brain asks her to let it out. In a soft, echoing chorus of voices, it begs for help until she ultimately relents, placing her hands on either side of the corpse’s skull before yanking it upward. At first, it doesn’t budge, but then she hears Astarion’s footsteps and looks up to see him frowning, causing her hands to twitch and the brain to slip from its hold, sending her tumbling backwards.

Almost immediately, Astarion sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know, normally I’d laugh at the misfortune of you falling on your ass but considering we’re, oh I don’t know, trying not to die via Illithid I—“

Before he can finish, the brain leaps from Zayis’s hands and begins to sprout a set of legs, causing both of them to look in slight horror before it excitedly speaks of its freedom.

We must get to the helm!

“Gods, that is truly rank.”

Moving to stand back up, Zayis rolls her eyes and moves closer to the creature, holding her hand out to feel it brush against it, tickling her skin in the process. “Oh, it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? It’s a bloody brain with legs. It’s hideous!”

She looks up at him with a pout, running her hand along the creature's grooves, feeling it wiggle excitedly beneath her grasp. “Aw, sweetheart he didn’t mean that. You’re a beautiful little brain —the most, in fact.”

After that she pulls it up towards her chest, carrying it as they move back down to the main floor —much to Astarion’s dismay.

“Just so we’re clear you’re not keeping it,” he tells her.

“You say that like you have a choice in the matter.” Smirking, Zayis continues stroking the creature's back, listening to the happy sounds it emits while Astarion scoffs, both of them moving forward.

“You know Vesryn’s going to have a fit when you bring that home.”

She opens her mouth to respond —to tell him that he won’t care— but then she realizes that the possibility of even having that conversation is low. Having thrown a knife at his head before disappearing into the night with the one man he hates most, it’s a rather safe bet he’d want nothing to do with her after all is said and done.

Considering tensions were already high to begin with thanks to the constant bickering and the lack of time spent trying to mend whatever relationship was still there, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already moved on.

“Good thing I’m probably not going home after this.”

Frowning at the sudden, unthought choice of words, Zayis moves a little faster, willing her feet to follow the air that begins to violently whip through her lungs, pulling her towards a more open area.

Once there, she discovers the outside world around them —the melting sunset sky suddenly obscured by a large red dragon rushing across their sight lines. As well as an endless sea of green that greets their eyes as they both swallow hard and look down, discovering just how swiftly they’re soaring in the air.

“Shit.”

As she swears, Zayis feels the brain in her arms shuffle in her grasp before it leaps in front of them, reminding them that they need to get to the helm before it’s too late, prompting Astarion to sigh.

“You’re not seriously going to listen to that thing are you?”

“You mean the thing that probably lives here and knows where everything is?”

She shoots him an angry look —one he reciprocates with nothing more than a scoff as he brushes past, knocking his shoulder against her’s in the process, making her groan because even at his most helpful he still manages to be so insufferable it hurts.

Which makes the situation they find themselves in that much more annoying, knowing he’s more than likely just doing it on purpose. That instead of grinning and bearing it like she’s at least trying to, he’s deliberately making things difficult for her. (Something he always does instead of communicating that she’s done something wrong.)

Because of this, she assumes it’s due to the incident in the alleyway. Or rather, the conversation had before the alleyway that almost led them to do something irrevocably stupid. Considering she herself is guiltily pissed off at the interruption herself, she can only imagine how he’s feeling. With all that pent-up anger and frustration he often maintains, he’s probably thinking of a million ways he’d like to kill the flayers that interrupted them as he continues to stomp his way forward, prompting Zayis to reluctantly follow.

“You know, being pissed off at me for something I had no control over isn’t very fair.”

She’s not sure why she’s bringing it up. Especially now. If anything they should be focusing on the task at hand —following their little brain friend to the helm or whatever the hell it’s called so that they can leave and live their final days in peace.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?”

He shakes his head, refusing to meet her eye.

“Fine. I’ll drop it then. No need to dwell on the past as they say. Better to move forward and—“

He whips around and stares, narrowing his eyes at the way her face breaks out into a smirk. “I’m not annoyed at that,” he says then, waving his hand around nonchalantly, making her raise a brow. “I’m annoyed at you and your inability to focus for the slightest of moments!”

“Excuse you, I focus!”

“No you don’t!”

“Yes—“

“Zayis, right now we are on an Illithid ship with tadpoles for brains and you’re over here playing nice with that thing, acting like it has the authority to tell us where to go!”

She opens her mouth to argue but fails when she watches him shake his head and laugh, mocking her in that familiar tone.

“I mean, honestly, I’m normally all for the submission of chaos and all it’s pleasantries —you know that— but right now I am far more interesting in getting off this bloody ship so I can stop looking at your fucking face for five minutes!”

By the time his outburst is done, Zayis can’t help but hold in a laugh, watching the way his eyes go wide and his hair falls wildly out of place. It’s, unfortunately, more entertaining than effective, prompting her to clear her throat and hold her tongue, allowing Astarion his one moment of peace before they’re interrupted by a sound overhead.

It’s subtle enough that it could just be the wind but regardless both of them look up, freezing in place once a figure dive-bombs from above, landing directly in front of them with their sword. As it happens, they both take half a step back, watching as a Githyanki woman snarls in their face, pointing the weapon just shy of Zayis’s throat as she calls her an abomination.

“Excuse me?”

Snarling in response, the woman parts her teeth slowly before all at once that familiar pain inside Zayis’s head erupts, prompting everyone to groan, feeling it too.

In an instant, her mind aches with newfound visions —ones of dragons flying overhead, their vibrant red scales gleaming off the edge of a silver sword that’s tossed through the air, landing just shy of her face. Breathing hard, she can feel the presence of an unknown threat creeping closer before a white hot flash eventually hits, resulting in the vision’s inevitable passing.

As it leaves, all three of them are left a bit breathless, prompting the Githyanki to cautiously lower her sword and focus on Zayis. “You are no thrall.”

“I beg your pardon?” Astarion asks, shooting her an annoyed look while Zayis merely narrows her eyes, feeling utterly confused.

“I will sooner slit your throat then beg, ska’keth.”

“Wait, what? No, that’s not—”

Before he can explain further, she aggressively mutters something in her own language and then raises her sword, motioning behind her. “We must get to the helm before it’s too late,” she tells him, both her and Zayis watching as Astarion immediately presses his palms into the sockets of his eyes, emitting a low groan that leaves Zayis specifically reeling with joy, trying not to laugh as the brain beneath their feet begins to hop around.

Yes! The helm! We must get to the helm!

It’s almost comedic the way Astarion relents —the way the base of his hands scrubs angrily down his face to reveal a wicked scowl. As it happens, Zayis can’t help but continue to bite back a grin. An air of smugness filling her features as she hears Astarion swear under his breath.

“Oh, for fuck sakes —yes, fine, fine! We’ll go to the bloody helm!”

“Wise choice.”

After the Githyanki speaks, all four of them begin their trek, walking along the outside path until they come up on another opening that leads them back into the depths of the ship. Identical to the other rooms there’s various pods scattered throughout the room they now find themselves in, all of them devoid of life, despite the few bodies still being kept inside.

Moving further inside, they notice that near the far edge, a cluttered desk sits with various runes strewn about, along with a chest that Astarion can’t help but race towards, prompting their new friend to groan.

“We do not have time for this.”

Despite wanting to follow Astarion’s greedy little footsteps, deep down, Zayis knows that she’s right. As much as it pains her to not be able to root around a little herself, she understands they have to hurry. To make up for lost time especially after she’s already wasted so much evicting their little friend from his previous home.

It makes her groan in annoyance just thinking about it, remembering that such actions are why Astarion’s so pissed off in the first place. Why, as she looks over and notices the almost bored look in his eyes as he picks up a couple of runes, quickly sifting through them before tossing them aside, she suddenly feels this newfound resentment rising through her chest.

All at once, it takes over. As she watches him jut out his lip, pouting at the lack of interesting things he’s managed to find, she can’t help but wonder what it feels like to be such a hypocrite. To look into the face of the only person you can currently trust, chastise them for their actions, and then immediately do the same.

It must feel like nothing, Zayis decides. At least to him. Considering he barely bats an eye as the Githyanki passes him, muttering under her breath in anger, she figures his ability to care became lost the moment he was proven wrong —a habit of his she’s experienced once or twice during their time together.

A habit she quickly learned to just avoid altogether. Seeing as they were only ever in each other’s orbit for a few hours at a time, she’s always defaulted to avoidance. To pretend like it didn’t deeply affect her mood each time he chose to shut down or be rude or, in this case, a combination of both.

During those moments, it was frustrating but ultimately easier than the moment she now finds herself, wandering towards him alongside the brain that squeaks out a quiet request to get to the helm again.

“Our friend is leaving, you know,” she says once she’s there, watching as he makes no effort to showcase any interest. Opting instead to procure a lock pick from his belt.

“Friend is a bold term.”

“Oh, shut up. She’s just trying to help us. Besides, you said so yourself that there’s safety in numbers.”

He huffs, pausing the movements of his hands to look up at her with narrowed eyes. “Yes, but I said that so that you’d let me out. Not so we could follow around some Gith we don’t even know."

“A Gith who doesn’t know us either,” she reminds him, causing Astarion to grunt in anger and straighten his back.

“You don’t actually expect her to help us, do you?” Letting out a laugh that seems far too relaxed for the moment, Astarion shakes his head and leans a hand against the desk beside him, allowing his weight to fall to the side casually. “She’s a homicidal maniac —she threatened you with a knife!”

“Astarion, you do that to me all the time!”

“Not to harm you,” he scoffs.

“Oh, really? Why then?”

He opens his mouth, failing to produce an answer, prompting Zayis to scoff back.

“You know, I’m really tired of arguing with you all the time,” she says then, motioning to his frame with an open hand.

“Likewise.”

“So, can we just not?”

It’s a simple question. One that hangs in the air far too long to earn either of them an equally simple answer. Resulting in further frustrations that have both of them stubbornly silent, waiting for the other to speak. To give in for the slightest of moments so that they can both breathe a sigh of relief and move on.

Something that neither of them do, causing the tension to grow as Zayis continues to stare at Astarion’s face, watching the way it all but twitches in response, resulting in her shoving his arm and wandering off with the scuttling brain.

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TAGLIST NOW CLOSED!

#wtf are we talking for #curse you!#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x zayis #zaystarion #astarion x original female character #astarion x female oc #summer writes

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i-think-i-did-it-again · 1 year

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Fuck buddies III

Warning: smut, swearing, rough sex Author's note: I'm sorry Colson is still being a dick but I promise, he'll get better! Thank you for all the love on this story ❤️

It’s been a week since you confessed your feelings to Colson and he walked away. You’ve never felt humiliation like that in your entire life. You stood there for what felt like an hour, trying to process what had just happened. You still have no idea why he was so annoyed at you in the first place. You could understand him not wanting to kiss you because all of your friends were there and you haven’t exactly told them about your friends with benefits arrangement but why was he so distant, cold even?

It’s not like he doesn’t like displays of affection. Even when you’re around your friends, he’ll often snuggle up to you on the couch while you’re watching a movie or ask you to play with his hair. No one has ever really questioned it because he’s a pretty affectionate guy. He likes to hug people hello and goodbye, he kisses you on the lips all the time when he comes to your apartment late at night. Why did your touch bother him so much?

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Rook waves his hand in front of your face and you’re drawn back to reality.

Rook didn’t like your radio silence, so he decided to come over and hang out on an unseasonably cold LA Saturday. You’ve been sitting watching old reruns and eating greasy pizza, neither of you really talking. You’re praying he doesn’t bring up last weekend but you just know you’re not that lucky.

“Sorry, just in my own little world I guess,” you apologise and turn back to the TV.

“Are you going to tell me what’s up or are you just going to keep pretending like everything’s fine?” he looks at you, his brows knitted together and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“There’s really nothing to tell. Colson and I got into a dumb fight last weekend and we’re just being stubborn and waiting for the other to apologise first,” you shrug.

You’ve been practising that explanation all week in the shower. Making sure you sound believable, making sure your voice doesn’t waver, your eyes don’t give away your pain. You know for a fact that no one will question because you know damn well that Colson will never tell anyone what actually happened. He’ll want to pretend that it didn’t, the same as you.

“So you didn’t tell Kells that you’re in love with him?” you choke on your own breath and stare wide eyed at Rook. “He told me when he stormed back to the booth after you left,” Rook explains and continues talking when you don’t say anything. “He was this weird mix of angry and sad, it was weird. I asked him what was wrong and where you were and he just exploded. He told me he’d fuck up and he doesn’t know how to fix it but he didn’t expect you to say what you said and he didn’t want to be the reason you cry. I was confused at first but then he explained what you guys have been…doing.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks and you look away as you realise that he knows everything. You’re filled with surprise and shame that Colson would open up like that to Rook. You’ve been fuck buddies for almost 6 months now and the whole point of doing it late at night was so no one knew. It wasn’t like it was a ‘rule’ the two of you made, it was more like an unspoken agreement. You made sure not to make it obvious in front of everyone else that something was up, which was hard to do when sometimes you couldn’t sit down the next day because your ass cheeks were raw. You would catch Colson smirking every now and again when you grimaced whenever you tried to sit or stand.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed or anything, I mean it makes sense,” Rook misunderstands your silence as embarrassment instead of shock.

“No, it’s not that. I mean this isn’t the most comfortable conversation I’ve had with someone, close friend or not. It’s just…well I’m surprised he told you everything. I guess I just thought he was ashamed of what we were doing and that’s why we’d only hook up late at night when he was drunk and horny.”

Rook laughs and you scowl at him angrily. He holds his hands up in surrender and your expression softens. You’re not really sure how he could’ve possibly found that funny but his phone ringing interrupts you before you can ask him the question on the tip of your tongue.

“Hello? Oh hey you! I’m just hanging with…a friend,” he looks at you with an apologetic smile.

You assume he’s talking to a woman and he doesn’t want her to know he’s hanging out with another female. You silently excuse yourself and head to the kitchen to pretend you’re getting a drink to give him some privacy. You stare at your embarrassingly empty fridge and make a mental note to go grocery shopping at some point this weekend. You grab out a beer for you and Rook and poke your head around the corner to see if he’s still on the phone. He’s scrolling through the TV channels so you come back in and sit beside him. You silently hand him his beer and watch the basketball game he’s put on.

Rook leaves after the game finishes, and he’s drunk half the beers in the fridge, and you continue to half pay attention to the TV. you’re starting to feel the loneliness begin to creep in so you decide to grab your phone to make a grocery list to keep your mind busy. You have a missed call from a number you don’t recognise but they didn’t leave a message so you decide to ignore it.

Once you’ve made your grocery list, you grab your house keys and head out the door. You open your front door and squeal when something falls onto you. You look down and see a lump of a human at your feet. You bend down to take a closer look and shoot straight back up when Colson’s bleach blond hair spills out of his dark beanie. His eyes are closed so you assume he’s either asleep or passed out until he speaks.

“Are you going to let me in or are you just going to stand there watching me?” he slurs out and your heart sinks when you realise he’s drunk.

“Don’t know if I really want you to come in to be honest,” you mumble as you stare down at him.

He opens his and they’re a strange mix of hurt and bloodshot. He sits up so he’s now leaning against the door frame and you awkwardly stand there, watching him like a caged tiger. You’re waiting for him to say something but when he doesn’t you begin to feel impatient and unsure of yourself.

“Listen Colson, I was actually going out and you’re kind of blocking me in so if you have something to say, just hurry up and spit it out.”

You switch from one foot to the other uncomfortably and he laughs. Your cheeks flush and you’re tempted to kick him but you resist as it would probably just make things worse. He hauls himself to his feet with a grumble and you step back to create some distance between the two of you. Colson misreads this as an invitation to come in and closes the door behind him.

You don’t even see him coming until suddenly his hands are wrapped in your hair and he’s slamming you against your front door. He collides his lips with yours and the breath is literally sucked from your body. His lips are desperate against yours and you’re trying so hard to resist him until he bites your bottom lip. You yelp and he rams his tongue into your mouth. He’s fighting with your resistance, using his strength and the weight of his body to hold you against the door. You want to hate every second of it but you love dominant Colson so much that it’s hard to fight back.

“Stop fucking resisting,” he growls against your cheek.

He grabs a handful of your hair and tugs. You cry out and he grins, pressing his crutch against your pelvis. He runs his teeth against the skin of your neck and you shudder. He flicks his tongue out every now and you shiver with pleasure. You shove against his chest and he tugs your hair again but you don’t cry out this time. Instead you grit your teeth and scowl at him. He flips you over suddenly and slams you back against the door. He holds the back of your head and reaches around to unbutton your jeans. He pulls them down roughly until the pool at your ankles. He runs his fingers up the back of your leg before swatting at your ass cheek. You call out and he presses you harder against the door.

“Tell me how much you love it,” he orders you as you scrunch your eyes closed. When you don’t say anything, he pulls your panties down and smacks you again, harder this time. “Say it!”

“I love when you spank me Colson!” you cry out as your eyes water.

“Call me daddy,” he groans as he presses his hard dick against your butt.

“I love when you spank me, daddy.”

He groans louder before pulling away and smacking your ass cheek again. You yelp at the sting and he hits you again. He lets go of your head and kneels behind you. He lifts your leg to pull your jeans all the way off, doing the same with the other leg. He stands back up and grabs you by the back of the neck and leads you to your bedroom. He kicks the door closed behind him and pulls his t-shirt off.

“Kneel,” he instructs you as he kicks his Converses off. You follow his instruction and kneel beside your bed. He stands in front of you and you look up at him, waiting for him to speak. “Unbuttons my pants,” you do as you’re told. “Take them off,” he points to his black briefs and you do it. “Suck him,” he grits through his teeth.

You grab his throbbing cock and wrap your lips around the tip. He sucks in a sharp breath and you flick your tongue against his throbbing vein. You tease him, sucking softly, working your tongue lightly over his tip and just below his tip. As soon as he moans, you stop sucking and flick your tongue. You’re enjoying your new game until Colson grabs you by the throat and hauls you to your feet.

“I said fucking suck it, not make out with it!” he yells, throwing you onto your bed. You try to get up but he jumps on top of you and holds your arms down. “Do it properly or I will spank you so hard, you won’t be able to sit for a month. You got it?”

“Yes daddy,” you spit through gritted teeth.

He straddles your chest and you lift your head so you can take his dick back in your mouth. You suck hard this time, bobbing your head up and down while Colson moans above you. You press his cock so far down your throat that gag on it and this only turns him on even more. He begins to throat fuck you, ignoring your gags and choking. Finally he pulls out of your mouth and you gasp for breath, rasping and coughing.

“That’s what you get for teasing me, don’t ever fucking do it again,” he threatens you and pulls himself off your chest.

He tears your t-shirt from your body, literally rips it in two, and throws it to the floor. He pulls you up by your arms so he can unhook your bra and then he pushes you back down. He uses his thumb and forefingers to pinch your nipples and you cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. He flicks your nipples, making you convulse off the bed. You’re writhing and moaning under his skilled fingers. He attaches his lips to your neck and sucks hard, marking you. He flicks his tongue to soothe your tender skin. He kisses his way up to your ear and nibbles your earlobe. You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of him on top of you.

“Just so you know, this is the last time, so savour the moment,” he whispers in your ear and your eyes spring open.

You try to sit up but Colson’s body is holding you down against your mattress. You try again but he won’t let you move. You’re trying so hard to thrash against him, you don’t care if he spanks you so hard you can’t sit for a month, you need to look at him, you need him to not do this.

“Let me up!” you scream at him but he doesn’t budge. “Colson, get the fuck off me!”

You push your hands against his chest but he just wraps his hand around your wrists and holds them above your head. You can feel the tears threatening to spill over and you’re trying so hard to hold them back. Even though you hate just being Colson’s fuck buddy but having any type of intimacy with him is better than nothing. You know you’re just torturing yourself but you don’t care. Colson finally looks at you and for the first time, you notice the dark circles under his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week.

“Wh-why? I don’t want to stop,” you know you sound desperate but you can’t stop the whine in your voice.

“I’m not…what you want. I’m not good for you,” he looks away from you and your stomach twists.

“I don’t give a fuck! If this is about what I said the other night, I didn’t mean it. I take it back!”

His head whips back to you and he lets your wrists go. He scrambles off you like you just burnt him and you’re so confused. You sit up, pulling your knees to your chest, and watch him. He grabs his boxers and pulls them on. He yanks his jeans on next and you want to say something but you’re not sure what. You don’t want him to leave. This is what he always does. As soon as things get too real, he runs.

“D-don’t l-leave, p-please?” your voice cracks as you beg him.

He looks at you and his eyes soften. The tears you’ve been fighting to hold back finally slip from your eyes and you’re so utterly embarrassed and broken. He takes a tentative step towards you and the floodgates break. A soft sob crawls its way up your throat and your body begins to shake. Colson sits on the edge of your bed and hesitates for a second before he pulls you to him. You swing your leg over his lap so you’re straddling him. He holds you against his chest and you bury your face in the crook of his neck and he strokes your hair.

“Shhh, it’s ok baby, I’m here. I’m not leaving,” he soothes you softly.

You let him hold you, soaking in every piece of information so that you can remember this moment forever. The feeling of his fingers in your hair, the sound of his breathing in your ear, the smell of his cologne mixed with weed, the rise and fall of his chest against yours. The moment is borderline perfect and your mind is turning to mush from the pure endorphins coursing through your veins.

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup against his throat.

“For what?” he sounds confused but he keeps stroking your hair.

“Telling you I love you.”

“Fuck Y/N,” he groans and throws his head back.

“What?” you pull back to look at him and his angry glare is back.

“I-I don’t want you to take it back! I don’t give a fuck that you said it! It doesn’t mean shit to me either way. Love me, don’t love me, it doesn’t change a fucking thing!” he screams and shoves you away from him.

You scramble to your feet, covering your bare chest with your arms. He's so angry, you hardly recognise him. Where did the fun, easy going guy you fell in love with go? He just seems so cold now. You stare at him stunned, the tears coming in wave after wave now. You feel your chest tightening and breathing is getting harder and harder to do. You imagine this is what a panic attack may feel like but you can’t be too sure. You’re too focused on watching Colson dress, mumbling and cursing under his breath. You just stand there dumbfounded, trying to find the words to make him stop but not having the physical strength to say anything. You feel this overwhelming weight begin to crash down on you and all you can do is stand there and take it. Colson doesn’t even look at you as he storms out of your bedroom.

‘This is the last time, so savour it.’

#colson baker #machine gun kelly #mgk #tickets to my downfall #mgk imagine #ttmdf #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly imagine #mgk x reader #est19xx #mgkxx #colson baker x reader #machine gun kelly x reader #good mourning #mgk fanfic #mgk smut #mgk angst #mgk rough

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lunargrapejuice · 2 years

Text

caught in the middle | diluc finds himself in the middle of a fight between you and kaeya | 2.6k + words

diluc x fem!reader (romantic unestablished relationship) + kaeya x reader (platonic)

warnings: hurt?/comfort, softie diluc <3 this whole fic came to be simply because i wanted him to be asked if he had forgiven kaeya and also i always need diluc comfort

you were smiling and excited till the moment you saw the sapphire hair on the cavalry captain when you entered angels share. both diluc and kaeya had seen you the moment you opened the door. their expression guilty as if they were just speaking about you. you knew neither of them wanted to let you leave the tavern but the only brother you had any interest in seeing was diluc.

“well well, how lovely it is to see you here y/n.” kaeya says smoothly when you approach the bar. you avoid his eyes, act as if you hadn’t even heard him and try to focus on diluc instead and he was a lovely distraction. was it childish to give kaeya the silent treatment? maybe. but you honestly couldn’t care less as he had left you feeling so betrayed after feeding you false intel about a commission that was very important to you. “let me buy you a drink.”

“no,” you answer shortly, your eyes brimming with tears before you can even try to stop them but you’d be damned if you cried in front of him. he didn’t deserve your tears though you are sure you’ll shed them anyways but not under both diluc and kaeya gaze, you didn’t want to show them your weakness.

“come now, don’t wound me like that sweetheart.” cold fingers touch your shoulder, the smell of wine and saffron invades your senses as kaeya inches close to you. you pull away quickly, taking a step back and accidently kicking the stool with your heel in the process. suddenly the whole room feels a lot warmer.

“that‘s enough k-” diluc begins, his voice deep and stern but in your frustration you interrupt him.

“wound you? are you serious?!” the bar around you falls silent at the volume of your voice. “don’t talk to me about hurting you when you hurt me first..” growing quiet you focus on the counter top, watching dilucs gloved fingers flex behind the bar, the fabric of his gloves not hiding how tense his hands are. “i don’t even care that my commission failed or that your intel made me look like a fool. i-” you bite your bottom lips to try to hold off the tears. “i’m hurt because.. i- i thought you were my friend.”

“we are friends,” kaeya says and his tone is almost honest enough you believe it but friends don’t lie to friends the way he lied to you.

“no, we aren’t,” you hate the way your voice cracks and before your tears begin to fall, you quickly turn away and walk towards the back door.

“ah, diluc. just the person i wanted to see,” kaeya greets with a smile that’s too guilty for dilucs liking, one he and kaeya shared many times as children. he quickly makes his way to the side of the bar opposite diluc. “y/n will be by sometime soon, won't she?”

“why do you want to know?” diluc questions even though he already knows why but he wants to hear kaeya say it, to try to determine if he’s sorry for the stunt he pulled. diluc finds himself often impatient with things that bring you pain or bothers you and there is little he wouldn’t do to rid you of it all and if that meant kaeya, he’d be sure his brother kept his distance until you were ready.

it’s obvious you’ve been avoiding the cavalry captain after he messed up your commission and diluc had heard all about it the night when in your frustrated state you found yourself at the front doors of the dawn winery. it was the first time he had ever seen you as anything but your happy self or being impressive in battle and it wasn’t by any means that he disliked that about you, in fact it was quite the opposite, but seeing you pace around the study and vent your frustrations.. it was nice, refreshing even and, though he wouldn’t say it outloud, cute. he still doesn’t understand why of all people you’d find comfort in him. he was never good at comforting, believing the only thing he could offer was his ear but he’s glad you found your way to the manor that night, that you trusted him enough to show a different side of yourself and an unknown warmth in his chest told him he wanted to see more.

he also knew you were holding back even after opening up to him about it and you were. you thought your eyes didn’t tell the story of how you had been crying all the way to the winery after you confronted kaeya but for diluc it was so easy to read. he had spent so much time studying your visage, getting lost in the cosmos of your eyes, had given so much time to you while falling for you silently- reluctantly, because you deserve so much more than him and yet, he found it harder and harder to resist the calling of his heart each time you were around, anytime you called his name.

his protectiveness over you, while something he had not yet come to full terms with, would not be swayed by his brother. he knew full well you’d be by tonight but he’d get kaeya out of here before then provided he doesn’t give him much trouble and with kaeya it’s an honest gamble.

“well if it was any of your business then i’d say i want to buy her a drink,” kaeya replies.

dilucs eyebrow twitches as he cleans the glass in his hand. is it not his business when you come into his bar and are asking him the questions? “go find her yourself then.”

it’s quiet for a long moment until kaeya lets out a defeated sigh and shuffles in his seat. “everytime i see her i blink and she's gone,” his eyes meets the unamused ember gaze of his brother. “it seems someone taught her how to slip away unnoticed rather quickly.” without waiting for a retort from diluc, he continues. “tell me diluc, you two are rather close, how does one get back in favor with miss y/n?”

diluc stares at kaeya with an unamused expression that says it all; i wouldn’t know. as if i’d be foolish enough to pull what you did.

“ah, of course, master diluc wouldn’t do anything to upset his precious y/n.”

except you weren’t his. not when diluc had not gained the courage to tell you of his feelings yet. “are you done?”

kaeyas smile says what his words do not. i’ll never be done. but to dilucs surprise, he doesn’t stay smiling for long. diluc watched intently kaeya as he spoke before and as he continue to talk now, admitting he made a mistake, making excuses for not knowing it would turn out this way and he only wishes to make amends but at a loss for what to do, came to seek his brother's help- a last resort, as he so nicely put it.

the bartender turns to put away the glasses he’d been cleaning, almost acting as though he hadn’t heard the words of his brother. when would kaeya learn the consequences of choosing to lie? dilucs known you can only believe half of what kaeya says and he knows you chose to trust him regardless of dilucs warnings because over the time you’ve known the brothers they both became your friends, though dilucs feelings towards you were something more.

half debating not to answer, diluc has only one suggestion and chooses to give it to kaeya only because he wishes for what happened to not hurt you anymore. “have you tried apologizing honestly?”

kaeya opens his mouth to answer but before he can the door swings open and both the men look expectantly, as if they knew it would be you. diluc readies to follow after you once you see kaeya and even though you don’t run away and approach the bar anyways, he watches cautiously, ready to step in if and when needed. he knew you could handle yourself, he admired that about you very much, but his protectiveness knew little to no bounds when it came to you.

your genuine smile returns when you focus on diluc and ignore kaeya words. it makes his heart stutter and his own lips tug upwords only to be torn away from it all by kaeyas voice and how it caused your eyes to water. dilucs chest feels tight as he watches you try to hold back your emotions.

“come now, don’t wound me like that sweetheart.”

kaeyas words barely register in dilucs mind. his attention is entirely focused on you, the tan hand that touches your shoulder and how quickly you pull away from it. your uncomfort was painted on your face and he would do anything to make it stop. “that‘s enough k-”

it’s your tone and not your words that stop dilucs words, your voice wrought with emotions you couldn’t hold back.

“wound you? are you serious?! …”

his fist clench and as he watches you avoid kaeyas gaze many questions run through his mind, analyzing, thinking, determined to stop your pain: it is too late to get kaeya out of here without more damage being done.. how does he pull you away quickly.. what does he do to stop the other patrons prying eyes.. but all of his questions become meaningless the moment he sees the first tear stream down your cheek when you turn away from them and try to hide your face as you take quick steps towards the door.

diluc shoots kaeya a quick glance and kaeya doesn’t miss the meaning behind it just because of its briefness. leave. but diluc doesn’t look back to see if he does, his footsteps hastily following after you.

dilucs long fingers wrap around your wrist and you’re pulled with an unexpected amount of force into the storage room next to the back entrance. despite the fingers around your wrist holding you delicately, the force of it sends you straight into dilucs chest, your hands grabbing onto his lapel for support and an attempt to hide your teary eyes and wet cheeks. the door click behind you and you’re left in a small room that’s quickly filling with his scent and natural heat. in his warmth, and the comfort you often find in him, you don’t pull away even though you know how intimate this position is and that diluc may not be okay with it.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize too pathetically for your liking. you wish you would stop crying already, wish your hands would stop holding onto him so desperately. if you weren’t in tears you may have been blushing, hoping he wasn’t feeling the way your heart beats erratically against him or running away to hide your embarrassment but right now all you really want is diluc to stay close and you’re thankful he doesn’t push you away even though under his coat his body is tense.

“you have no reason to be,” he answers quietly, his arms around you tightening despite how stiff he feels. it’s been a long time since anyone had been this close to him and his heart threatens to beat right out of his chest with each passing moment but those are the least of his worries. right now, he only wishes to stop your tears.

“you told me so.. and i didn’t listen..” you hadn’t heeded his warnings that kaeya wasn’t all that trustworthy and now you paid the price of the end of a friendship you thought meant something to the both of you.

“y/n.. that isn’t important, nor is it what i care about.” you are what i care about, his heart echoes. “my warning was because i didn’t wish to see you hurt by his lies like i’ve b-” he cuts himself off. why had he admitted that to you? how do you always seem to make him say what’s in his heart?

“.. were you able to forgive him?” you question after a moment of his deafening silence. you regret it instantly when dilucs body becomes even more rigid and his quietness swallows the room like a black hole. of course you’ve overstepped, he must be so uncomfortable.

it only makes you want to cry more. you don’t want to further jeopardize the friendship you’ve built with him, even though your feelings are so much more than what simple friends feel. taking a deep breath in an attempt to regain some composure, you go to pull away, your hand reaching back to search for the doorknob so you can get out of here quickly but dilucs arms stop you from moving from his proximity.

he’s panicking at the hurt look on your face. he hadn’t meant to make you feel worse by not having an answer to your question. he only wished to make your tears stop but he had failed to remember he wasn’t quite equipped to comfort someone in this way.

“ah- apologies.. i’m not very good at this,” he admits, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his neck. the ruffle of bright red hair brings your attention to his face, his pearl like skin, pink lips, sincere ruby eyes that begin to avoid your own after staring at you for a moment too long.

how could just one look make you fall for him even more?

clearing his throat, he tries again to comfort you, hoping to say the right thing this time around. “i can’t say if you should forgive kaeya or not, only you can make that decision but if you stick to your own path i have no doubt the choice you make will be one that you’ll be happy with.” taking a small movement back, he looks down at your eyes, his lips tugging upwards in relief when he sees your tears have finally ceased. dark gloves come into your peripherals and gingerly his fingers brush against your cheek, still feeling the dampness of your tears, as he moves your hair behind your ear. his burning touch warms your skin, the heat spreading from your ears to your chest, igniting your heart. you hope he can’t hear how it beats like a drum. “you’re strong and resilient but if you ever need it, you can always lean on me. okay?”

“o-okay,” you reply and this time it’s you who avoids his gaze. focusing on the jewel adorning his tie in fear you may not be able to stop yourself if you looked at his lips a moment longer. you had almost forgotten why you had ended up here in the first place, all of your worries seemed to evaporate when diluc was around and this time was no different. only when you hear kaeyas voice bid goodbye to the bard do you sneer and snap out of your fixation on diluc, realizing just how close you are once again. as if he only now realized it too, you both take a step back at the same time but in this small room there was little distance to put between you.

despite how badly his cheeks are burning, slowly turning the same shade as his hair, and how he uses the back of his hand to cover his face, he didn’t want your closeness to end and with his lingering boldness asks, “would you like to accompany me back to the winery? perhaps a nice drink and a game of chess could help you work through your frustrations.”

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

#genshin impact #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya alberich #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader

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elmundodeflor · 6 months

Text

The Tale Of The Butterflies - Now Out on AO3

CLICK HERE TO READ THE FULL FIC

"This goes out to my grandma

Who fell with the April breeze

And just like the autumn leaves

I hope she grows back to me

When butterflies migrate on to spring."

Grass creaks under their boots as they walk. It’s their one day-off, and Hanji had insisted on them going out the walls to explore.

“C´mon! It’ll be fun!”, they’d said. And Levi, though reluctant, had accepted in the end. He had thought about using the spare time to clean around headquarters. But the weather was too nice to waste. Besides, they had already fixed a cleaning-day a few weeks prior. A little sun wouldn’t hurt him much.

He sighs, stares at the clearing before him. It’s early spring, and the first-born sprouts begin to poke from the trees; branches dotted by shy specs of green. It’s a wonderful sight, he has to admit. Light seeps through the leaves, paints the fields of cellophane gold. And he thinks, he’s quite glad Hanji had dragged him out for a walk, after all. Even when, by walk, he means listening to their rambles or getting his clothes dirty.

“Look!”, he hears them call. They are pointing at a rare flower, lost somewhere in a midst of wood and brown. A butterfly floats around its petals; its wings fragile, fluttering in see-through yellow. “Isn’t this beautiful?”

Levi hums. Hanji had taken him discover the pretty to the world. The sparkle that laid in common-detail, so often invisible to the eye. He had a much more different stance at life before he met them, he tells himself. The Underground was harsh, and cold, and ruthless. And so, he thought he could only seek survival, then.

“It’s still a bug.”, he huffs. His voice is rather soft, despite the rough tone.

Hanji laughs at him, as if their fingers had caught the sweet within his words.

“I've never told you about butterflies, haven’t I?”, they ask; arms crossed over their chest. The afternoon light splatters over brown hair. Has turned their glasses into a stained kaleidoscope. “Come, quick! Get over here!”

Levi shakes his head, but does so, anyways. Truth is, they had shown him the colors of the wild, helped him understand rain and stars. It made him feel like he belonged, somehow. Like he could always find rainbows hidden in a universe that had unraveled to black and white.

"What is it?"

Hanji extends a finger. The butterfly has perched upon it, foolishly mistaken it for a flower petal. It makes them giggle; how its tiny legs trickle their skin. How Levi gives them a knowing stare, wide-eyed and curious.

“These babies”, they tell him, as they lift their hand up. “Only live for a single day.”

Levi frowns. His mouth parts open: an expression of sheer innocence. It’s almost as if he’s just starting to grow, like leaves that crawl from the mud. He doesn’t quite understand, yet, the way some things work. And he takes a guess, even if just to entertain the idea, that it’s nice to be a little bit naive, still.

“I call bullshit.”, he grunts. The butterfly sits in quiet; its wings shimmering under the timid rays of dusk. How could something so complex fade away so quickly?

Hanji laughs, louder this time.

“It’s true!”, they try to defend themselves. Their smile is warm and kind, wider than the open fields. “They start as caterpillars, first.”, they explain, though rather careful. “Then, they go through a transition process known as metamorphosis.”

Levi says nothing for a while, drinks in every trace of sunlight. He can’t help but think that they sound like an expert, indeed. That it’s just like they’ve spent their whole lives searching for answers to the mysteries of nature.

He looks at the butterfly first, and at Hanji, after. They’re holding their finger up to their nose, so near they’ve turned crossed-eyed and dizzy. He figures, probably, there’s tenderness about the ways they have for exploring. That his soul is left exposed at the sight of them: skewed glasses, clothes speckled.

“Ah, well…!”, he hears them speak again. “I just find it so incredible! A few months in and ta-da! They completely change forms.”

He scoffs. It seemed gross, in all honesty. But that, he wouldn't say. Hanji most likely knew already, anyways.

“All that and just to die within a day, huh...?”, he sighs, disappointed.

Hanji nods, and takes his hand into theirs for a moment. There’s a thin layer of dust that’s collected underneath their nails. A warm splotch of sweat that peppers over their palms, too.

Still, Levi doesn’t care.

"Super unfair, if you ask me.", he watches them shrug, ever so carefree. The butterfly's fumbled from their finger onto his, made a home out of his embrace. And he feels as though time has stopped, right there and then. Like he's cradling a daydream too good to be true. "So, pay attention, alright? We're probably never gonna see this again!"

He catches his breath. The butterfly spreads its wings, shows them every hue of golden and yellow. It's fascinating, he thinks, as he brings it up close to his face. He'd been told, the world was supposed to be one filled with despair. An irregular battlefield, where love could only come at the cost of loss.

Yet, he notices, there's a beauty that remains precious, even in the simple. Some kind of wonder that stays in moments of quiet: the fading sunsets, the blink of an eye. Hanji goes on adventures, smiles with their heart light. And he finds that it's contagious, really. That passion of theirs. That they can let joy bloom in places others had planted with sorrow.

How do they do it?

“I don’t get it.”, he complains. And they let out a giggle: a sound that drifts away with the breeze.

“You don’t have to, Levi.”, they tell him. The traces of their voice hang loose around the edges; his name a soft whisper on their lips. “To be frank, I don’t quite get it myself, either…”

He remains quiet for a minute, takes in the perfume that lingers in the air. A smile of his own has blossomed on his mouth, shy as wildflowers that push above-ground. He's aware of how stubborn he can be. How he can seem cool and unfazed, at times. Still, he decides that, maybe, Hanji can be right, if only just for now. That there’s some kind of comfort in sharing himself with someone who simply understands.

He exhales, and looks up at the butterfly: the way it floats off to the afternoon. It appears to him, somehow, the meadows feel emptier now that it’s gone. Yet, he’s certain, there’s not much he can do about what’s finite, after all.

Some things are meant to slip beyond one’s line of comprehension, anyways.

"I think we should start heading back.", he offers, as he gets up to sweep the mud that’s on his pants. The sun’s about to set, and all he really wishes for is a long, hot shower before dinner.

Hanji grazes him another smile, and helps themselves off the floor, as well.

“Then admit that you had fun, at least!”, they tease. And Levi figures, perhaps, to them happiness can be only but a butterfly, in the end. The brittle that's in beauty. The fleeting one yearns to keep from the sweet betrayals of time.

He huffs and turns around to stare at them, still walking a few steps behind. He did have a wonderful day, indeed. But that, he wouldn't say. Hanji most likely knew already, anyways.

"Don’t be stupid.", he goes, instead. And they laugh in response, loud, and wild, and clear. “We’re gonna be late for tea.”

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lunanoc · 2 months

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xiaoge (and liu sang if you want to) for the ask meme 👀

sorry for the late reply that I’m writing while procrastinating on other things but thank you for asking! <3

Xiaoge

My first impression

I honestly can’t remember all that well because it was such a long time ago, but when I first discovered Daomu Biji, it was through PingXie clips on twitter from Ultimate Note, and because I had nothing to do and found them cute I ended up finding a carrd where someone gave a barebones rundown of what you had to know to not be extremely confused if you wanted to watch it. The way Xiaoge was described in it and his initial appearance in Ultimate Note made me think he was the quiet warrior stereotype that felt a lot of things strongly but just didn’t express them openly, a lot introverted and a little lost in a lost puppy kind of way

My impression now

Xiaoge to me now is multifaceted in ways I feel deserve their own separate post, but I’m going to tl;dr it as in some ways, I feel like he’s almost a subversion of the stereotypes he’s presented as. So much of Xiaoge’s character arc both in the present timeline and in past events is about his dehumanization, but that dehumanization isn’t purely about the ways others treat him, it’s also in the way he himself has become “other”. The Three Days of Silence extra goes into this the most explicitly, but the llama at the temple wants Xiaoge to carve a statue out of a stone by infusing emotion into it because he feels that “no man is a stone”, that is it say that no human being is without emotion, and only by proving that he can feel can Xiaoge prove that he’s human. But the problem is that by that point Xiaoge, both by circumstance and by design, to all intents and purposes has become a stone in some respects in terms of his distance to people on a personal level. It’s not an accident that Wu Xie often compares him to a god or to Buddha with no passions or desires of his own, because it’s what he’s been made to be, and his indifference, that’s a defining character trait, isn’t feigned. It’s genuine.

So Xiaoge’s character development very much revolves around breaking free from his identity as a tool and as something almost akin to a bodhisattva to obtain his own identity as a human being that can connect with others.

It’s more complicated than that and I’m generalizing, but I feel that Xiaoge is someone who’s inherently merciful and kind, but is also generally speaking not invested in most people on a personal level, mostly because forming a connection with anyone is an exercise in futility, both because Xiaoge’s life experience and what “fate” has imposed on him make it difficult for people to relate to or understand him, and also because that distance means most people will inevitably only want to use him. But he does care about the people who’ve successfully forged a connection with him, he just shows it through actions, not words. Is he also a little awkward in interpersonal relationships sometimes? Yeah that too

Favorite thing about that character

Probably the fact that despite everything he’s gone through he’s Daomu Biji’s goodest boy. He’s kind in a completely uninterested way. That and how much of a troll he is that’s the Zhang in him coming out

Least favorite thing

Maybe that he’s so flippant about his own well-being and bodily comfort. He tends to view himself as an extension of a purpose and is in general very pragmatic, but because of how removed from people and humanity he is, it means he doesn’t really take himself into consideration much over the people he cares about. There a bit in the Fishing King extra where he slashes his own hand open and when Wu Xie later realizes it, he asks Xiaoge if it hurts, and he replies that it doesn’t. And Wu Xie doesn’t comment on it, but his overall internal thought process is a bitter “of course it doesn’t hurt”

Favorite line/scene

Trying to pick a scene that’s about him specifically and honestly the entirety of the stories about when he’s doing his release into the wild during the Tibetan Sea Flower flashbacks. Jaded and ruthless baby, but even before he was ever Zhang Qiling he was still more humane than everyone around him despite having been used as a disposable blood bag by his own family

Favorite interaction that character has with another

Everyone’s expecting the “If I disappeared no would notice” scene with Wu Xie but you know what I’m gonna go with something else even if that scene is up there.

In the Fishing King extra when Wu Xie goes to fist bump him because they beat Pangzi at rock paper scissors and Xiaoge doesn’t understand so they stare at each other awkwardly and he ends up covering Wu Xie’s fist with his hand like ‘paper’ my heart

A character that I wish that character would interact with more

To be honest Xiao Hua or Huo Xiuxiu? You don’t ser much of those three in the same room but I imagine Xiaoge and Xiao Hua would be a very efficient, pragmatic and silent duo

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character

Not entirely because I don’t think I know any character that’s exactly like Xiaoge, but a little bit Shenhe from Genshin. Emotionally restrained to the point of lack of emotion but by design, mistreated as a child, also a little bit of a troll and straightforward when confronted with people with bad intentions. Also very combat efficient.

A headcanon about that character

I don’t know if I have a really big one besides I like the headcanon that Xiaoge is ace or demisexual? I have a hard time picturing him having had any kind of romantic relationships and to be honest even casual sex doesn’t feel likely to me just because even that requires having some form of interest in the other party which Xiaoge doesn’t ever really seem to have. But who knows what he might have had to do out of necessity or if there were people he’s forgotten

A song that reminds me of that character

This is really hard but I haven’t found anything more fitting than ‘The Ghost on the Shore’ by Lord Huron

An unpopular opinion about that character

I had to think about this a little but if I had to pick something it might be the fanon perception of Xiaoge as a ‘feral cat’ that Wu Xie and/or others have ‘domesticated’. Part of it is personal interpretation, because I feel like he’s hardly feral considering outside of crisis situations he’s probably one of the most chill characters in Daomu Biji. But it also feels… I don’t know dismissive? To be calling him that when Xiaoge being out of touch with most people on a personally involved or intimate level is the fruit of so many things outside of his control he’s been subjected to. He’s spent the better part of his life being subject to the whims of an unnamed entity that uses him as it sees fit for an agenda the reader only knows exists let alone what it entails. He’s seen people at their most vile, been used by people in the most vile ways, and that mixed with his sense of duty as Zhang Qiling and his age (though he was already jaded even as a teenager before he was ever made into Zhang Qiling) has made him into someone who wanders the world without any real connection to the people in it. For a very long time Xiaoge just ‘existed’ in the most literal sense, and just because as a result of that he doesn’t care about social niceties (why would you care about face and other people’s attempts to maintain the façade of it in a cutthroat business like tomb robbing?) or knows or cares how to maintain relationships doesn’t make him ‘feral’.

Plus calling him ‘domesticated’ veers a little too much into dehumanizing him as if he’s some animal Wu Xie (or someone else) tamed and that answers to his beck and call. As if the entire point of Xiaoge’s story arc isn’t that Wu Xie is the first person he can remember who ever persisted in forging a connection with Xiaoge until Xiaoge was forced to realize he cared and felt a connection with another human being. As if the conclusion of that wasn’t him making a gamble on Wu Xie’s sincerity that he would come and pick him up in ten year’s time, as if Xiaoge choosing to stay in Yucun with him and Pangzi isn’t Xiaoge reciprocating that sincerity with his own, making an active choice to stay and call somewhere ‘home’ for the first time in his life.

I might be looking at this too deeply but it rubs me the wrong way

Favorite picture

Hard so I’m not picking absolute favorites just ones I like. For book Xiaoge I like versions of him that look similar to this:

(Source)

And for drama Xiaoge there’s so many good shots of all the versions of him, so looking at the most recent version of him in the Misty Creed movie, this one shot is 10/10:

(Screenshot courtesy of @shaish)

Liu Sang

Disclaimer: Since this is tagged, apologies in advance to Liu Sang fans. I’ve tried to be as reasonable as possible about my opinions, but that being said be warned I don’t like him, so if you'd rather not see any negativity about him, feel free to skip

My first impression

My introduction to Liu Sang was through fandom, both fanon, fanfic, and discussions about him that I’d seen/read before I ever watched Reboot, since I started with the dramas. From how people talked about him I was pretty hyped about him I’m not gonna lie, and I definitely got the feeling he was an important character, so seeing how loved he was, I was looking forward to seeing him for the first time in canon.

Then once I started watching Reboot my first impression kind of yoyo-ed around. There was a little whiplash from the gap between how fandom presented him vs. how he acted at the beginning of Reboot towards Wu Xie and Pangzi especially, but I figured given people liked him he probably got better. And to be fair he did! On my first full watchthrough of Reboot I ended up feeling pretty neutral about him, not in a negative sense, but more like how I tend to view most of the more minor characters (like Xiao Bai for example since we’re talking about Reboot). I appreciated he got character development and was left with a general “yeah he’s alright” impression

My impression now

Full disclaimer, I’ve only read half of Restart the book so far, so I can’t fully talk about book Liu Sang beyond his appearances in the South Sea King’s tomb and the immediate aftermath of that. I can talk more about Reboot the drama Liu Sang though.

The problem with my general impression of Liu Sang now is that it’s very polluted by my interactions with his fans. I won’t get too much into that because this is supposed to be about Liu Sang the character and not the Liu Sang fandom (because yes there absolutely is a Liu Sang fandom that exists as a subset of the Daomu Biji fandom), but to keep it short, the version of Liu Sang that I find is pushed forward a lot by his fans is a version that doesn’t correspond to either the drama or book version of him, and is instead heavily steeped in widely accepted fanon to the point it’s almost a different character sometimes. And that widely accepted fanon version is something that his fans have the unfortunate habit of being very pushy and single-minded about, and it’s caused a number of issues and rifts within the wider Daomu Biji fandom.

Keep in mind this is all my personal feelings and doesn’t necessarily reflect on every single person who likes Liu Sang as a character, but to get back to the point, it means that my overall impression of Liu Sang now is a pretty negative one. Full transparency (if it wasn’t already obvious) I don’t like him, and while I do find what I’ve seen of the book version of him has the potential to interesting, and I can absolutely appreciate that, not to mention the genuine character arc he gets in the drama, because of how his fans act about him, he’ll never be a favorite

Favorite thing about that character

In the book so far what I find most interesting about Liu Sang is the ambiguity of his past and of his intentions. He’s initially presented in a way that’s puzzling in hindsight, and while part of that I think you can put down to Restart being a weird time for Wu Xie in general, there’s little clues that makes you wonder what his deal is and that his role in the story might be more than meets the eye.

He’s introduced as a consultant Wu Erbai trusts the competence of, and Pangzi is immediately incensed by him in ways that are almost uncharacteristic. Because Pangzi (in the books at least), is someone who regularly puts up a loud front and throws jibes at people when he doesn’t trust them in a way that’s both testing but not too aggressive to instigate a conflict unless the other party is openly hostile. But with Liu Sang he’s immediately, and to Wu Xie without apparent reason, extremely hostile and vitriolic. You learn later that Pangzi has heard sinister rumors about Liu Sang, and you infer from there the vitriol is coming from Pangzi wanting to keep someone potentially nefarious and ill-intentioned to a sadistic degree away from his friends. But you also later see him again when he listens to thunder at the beach in front of the guesthouse Wu Xie and co. are staying in, and Wu Xie’s observations give you the impression there’s something deeper going on. In Wu Xie’s words, he doesn’t like him, but he’s intrigued by what he represents (and not gonna lie I am too)

Least favorite thing

Besides the egregious fanon version of him I’m not touching on because it’s not actually canon, ironically I find early drama Liu Sang to be worse than early book Liu Sang. To be fair I don’t know how he evolves in the book, but in that Liu Sang is more focused on his job, and apart from his one iffy moment in the car where he’s constantly trying to snap pictures of Xiaoge without his consent (to which both Wu Xie and Pangzi react with variations of yelling and kicking his seat in), he’s really not doing anything questionable, unless you count being in on Wu Erbai’s test as questionable. Drama Liu Sang however by this point not only throws jibes around at both Wu Xie and Pangzi, but uses Wu Xie’s terminal illness as a leverage point to mock him and almost gets Wu Xie and Pangzi killed because he thought it was funny. Which is honestly at odds with his book character that’s actually very professional, because none of that is professional

Favorite line/scene

Uhhh I don’t know that I have any? Maybe the part in Restart where he walks out into the thunderstorm to listen to the thunder and Wu Xie watches him until it triggers a moment of self-reflection. It’s not really about Liu Sang so much as it’s about Wu Xie and his headspace, but it’s a meaningful scene

Favorite interaction that character has with another

Ok I’m not gonna lie that one moment in the Reboot drama where Liu Sang tells Xiaoge he’s his biggest fan and Xiaoge of all people takes a moment to emote because he’s that confused and baffled by the direction the interaction is taking is hilarious

A character that I wish that character would interact with more

Maybe Xiao Bai? I haven’t seen them meet in the book, but arguably in both that and the drama especially both Liu Sang and Xiao Bai are mirrors of each other in terms of what they represent in relation to Xiaoge and Wu Xie respectively. Plus their interactions in the drama were wholesome

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character

I can’t think of one to be completely honest

A headcanon about that character

I’m going to call this headcanon for now since I’m not done Restart the book so I can’t be sure, but I like the idea of book Liu Sang just being an ornery bastard with his own nebulous agenda. Let the man be a bastard! Bastards can be interesting too!

A song that reminds me of that character

I honestly can’t think of one right now

An unpopular opinion about that character

I could probably go into this for a hot minute but everything surrounding the sanitized fanon version of Liu Sang that’s both in my opinion inaccurate (despite being presented as accurate) and absolutely in your face unless you take extreme pains to block out pretty much everything to do with him. To be clear, what people like is their business, but unpopular opinions aren’t called that for nothing, and this entire post is meant to be about my feelings, not objective facts.

That being said, fanon Liu Sang to me is woobified to a level that completely erases any traces of his actual character to cater to a very specific view of him that’s as far as I can tell made to be palatable. His fans make a concentrated effort of pushing forward, in my experience sometimes aggressively, what’s essentially a sanitized version of him that glosses over or deliberately erases any unsavory aspects of his character.

Which to be clear I have no problems with, most of if not all the characters in Daomu Biji are fundamentally imperfect and flawed, some to the point where other less niche (in western fandom spaces anyway) fandoms would label them as ‘problematic’. It contributes to making the characters complex and more human in my opinion. Which is why it’s kind of sad that Liu Sang has been reduced to being the fandom’s (or part of the fandom’s) ‘poor little meow meow’ who’s suddenly inherently likable.

Again, if you like that then that’s your business. The only reason I have strong feelings about this in the first place is because Liu Sang fans have, in my experience, the bad habit of shoehorning that version of him into everything, and by that I mean to the point of encroaching on other people’s lanes in ways that are incredibly tone deaf. It also feeds into the general problem the Daomu Biji fandom as a whole has of assuming that everyone is ok with anything and everything, and doesn’t believe in personal boundaries. But anyway, the point here is that I don’t like fanon Liu Sang, and the only reason I’m talking about him is because of this ask

Favorite picture

I also don’t really have one

#dmbj #zhang qiling #liu sang #ask meme #hopefully this is appropriate #and if it's not then feel free to point it out #but that being said i don't like the idea of having to walk on eggshells with opinions on fictional characters #especially when other people don't #character meta #a little?#a little

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uefb · 1 year

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Why do you think there’s a pattern of Theseus being abusive/overly aggressive in Fantastic Beasts fanfic? It’s been driving me up the wall trying to find Newt and Theseus fanfic that doesn’t make them OOC especially Theseus, and idk, in the context of Newt being Autistic I find it disturbing. Like sure, Theseus is hot-headed and loses his temper, he doesn’t always understand Newt, but those traits seem overtly exaggerated in a lot of fandom content.

Obsessed with this ask. I have been thinking about it all day, and am just now getting to write it up! Thinking about it in the background of my statistics class almost singularly got me through its sensory and anxiety hell. /sweat-laugh emoji/ So thank you!

Please remember, all of this is based on my own perspectives, knowledge, and headcanons, as well as canon clues. Nothing here is definitive and is open for respectful conversation! (Not directed specifically at you, salamander, just since this is a public blog I like to cover my bases. ^_^)

Buckle up: major autistic info dump incoming

Alright, so, my initial thoughts are that...

Obviously, there was a decent chunk of Newt fic written between 2016 and 2018 before CoG came out, that first film where we really got to see Theseus as a character, for who he really is (especially since they cut that letter from him to Newt at beginning of FBWTFT, that starts with "little brother," which is just pretty endearing). IMHO, this two-year gap means people had a wide open playing field to build the character themselves. Here's a few thoughts on that:

The framework for the entire Wizarding World, narratively, is the Harry Potter series. Boy wizard, shunned by family, isolated from socialization -- Outcasts have always been the backbone of She-who-must-not-be-named's stories. It's compelling. We love it, we lap it up. With only one FB film out before 2018 and Newt being such a unique protagonist, I think it's likely people fell back on the more typical Harry-Dudley trope to create a compelling backstory for Newt, using that tried-and-true fantasy Cinderella-type trope.

Second, from what I can tell, there was a lot less serious consideration of Newt actually being autistic in the early years of the fandom. (I only "joined" relatively recently myself, despite going to the first 2 movies on opening day, but I'm nothing if not fastidious in consuming every scrap of historical content when I develop a new interest, lol.) I've read pages of threads and plenty of "think pieces" attributing Newt's behavior to trauma-related social anxiety and/or his profession as a magizoologist. I absolutely buy the latter (adjusting body language for one's profession), but not entirely the former. (Personally, Newt doesn't strike me as an inherently anxious person--he strikes me as an inherently autistic one who also sometimes experiences anxiety. Discomfort and anxiety aren't the same thing, but people often conflate them, imho.) Anyway, THAT BEING SAID, I've noticed in quite a few fics that people write Theseus as being part of that implied social trauma, via sibling bullying that rises beyond typical sibling harassment. People perhaps tried to explain Newt's behavior by making him, at the very least, overshadowed by Theseus (and ashamed of it) or, at the very worst, abused and/or neglected by his family.

Also, quite simply: people process their own family trauma via fic. I think it's highly likely Theseus just served a sibling or parental role for some people in stories. (The abundance of abusive!Thranduil fic in the LotR fandom in the early 00s is another example of this.) Nothing wrong with using fic to process feelings and life experiences (god knows I do, it's horrifically obvious and always has been lmao), but this bulletpoint is still one explanation for the pre-CoG "Theseus being a dick in fic" phenomenon.

Plus, fanfic doesn't occur in a vacuum. Even when new canon info comes out, existing fic and whatever the going/contemporary fanon is often impact how new writers write their characters, even post-CoG. (And how those characterizations are received by the larger fandom--that reception may subsequently impact how writers maintain or change their characters in the future, imho.)

As for the current reasons Theseus is often OOC in post-CoG fic...

Well, I have my theories, but I am also not entirely sure. However, I feel pretty confident it has to do, primarily, with points 1 and 4.

Leta Lestrange and the Scamander Brothers - Honestly, I think people likely are pretty offended on Newt's behalf for the Leta/Theseus marriage. In mainstream media, we're kind of trained to think that dating your friend's ex is ultimate betrayal--it's difficult for people to imagine a world in which a person who marries their brother's ex is a good person. (...I was once in a friend group where we had all dated the same girl at some point, but we were all either ridiculously honest or autistic so we just--wait for it--talked about it and moved on.) That being said, I never read Leta & Newt as overtly romantic (then again, I also didn't know Bunty liked Newt until the 4th time I watched CoG), so I don't entirely get this one to the degree that I think some people viscerally feel this. But I expect some people see that and assume it says something much larger about Theseus' character than it does. (I do think it says a lot about Theseus that he loves Leta, but I don't think it says the same things about him that some other people do -- I think it speaks more to his similarities to Newt [compassion and positive outlook] than it does to stealing Newt's Hogwarts sweetheart. But I digress.)

Something Did Happen at Some Point - Now, there is undeniably a distance between the brothers that we, as viewers, don't necessarily know the origin of. (So I think I may have mentioned in my letters that [my brother & I] have quite a complicated relationship. // Does he want to kill you? // Frequently.) Have they always been like that? Is it new? Is it because of the age difference? Because they have different personalities? (Though I will argue until I'm blue in the face that they're actually extraordinarily similar people, at their cores.) Is it because Newt got expelled, or because Theseus scooped up Leta, or because Theseus expresses emotion through touch & Newt jerks away from touch he doesn't initiate himself, or because because because because because? I don't know. But there is something there and, based on the "complicated relationship" comment, it sounds like it is something that likely developed over time. So imho - I think some people see that and just lean in way too hard. Like, pedal to the medal, 0 to 60 too hard.

Theseus is Snarky to Newt on Multiple Occasions - Mostly based around how Newt directs his life, carries himself, etc etc. For example, it would be easy to take that whole scene before and after Newt's travel hearing in CoG and assume Theseus is an overprotective, condescending, and ableist prick. But if we look below the surface (and the stage directions in the screenplay help, too. When he says "maybe a little less... / like me. / well, it can't hurt" the instructions say 'not without fondness', or something like that), it's pretty glaringly obvious he doesn't mean to be that way. Even condescending behaviors usually have causal correlates, even if we can't see them on the surface. (Believe me -- and this is something we both touched on in DMs, salamander, I'm just repeating for the sake of the ask -- well-meaning pep talks and encouragement can still drip with condescension when loved ones think you need guidance because they "love you and know better " and you're just too autistic or too idealistic or too naive or whatever.) Ultimately, whether due to a failure to approach these snarky exchanges with grace and nuance, or because it can make a good fic to put brothers at odds, IDK -- but I expect this particular point plays into some people's decisions to interpret Theseus in a way I view as OOC.

Ease of Narrative ~ Nuance is hard - I mean, this one explains itself. Writing characters in a nuanced manner that allows digging into the messy horrible confusion of relationships--embedded as they are within families and societies and personal & general history--is not easy. It takes not only patience and significant effort as a writer, but it also takes a degree of self-awareness and maturity that we all reach at different points. I'm not there yet myself (there's no real arrival -- life's not a perfect graph), but still: My fic writing is very different now at 32 (with 14 years of 'adulthood' and 12 years of therapy under my belt) than it was when I was writing about adults when I was 15. (And, yes, I still have my first posted HP fic up on MuggleNet and FFnet, so you don't just have to take my word for it lmao.) To be very clear, this isn't me being ageist or whatever: I'm just saying that I often get the sense while reading fic where Theseus is reallllly overly aggressive that the writer is sometimes either very new to creative writing (and good for them! we love new writers! keep writing, lovelies!), or else quite young, and thus still acquiring life experience that is going to improve their work as they age, every single day.**

Sibling Experience - Not having personal or narrative experience with an age gap like Newt and Theseus have. I'm an older sibling by 7.5 years, which is close to Theseus & Newt's age difference. I basically half-raised my younger brother, so I have a real soft spot for that kind of sibling relationship, which comes across in most of my fics (LotR & FB). It's hard to imagine the sort of borderline sibling-parental love, responsibility, and anxiety that can permeate those kind of relationships if you haven't experienced or seen it represented in media yourself. This is just a theory, of course---I have no actual data on this being actually related to his OOCness.

What else? What do you or others think?

Final very random thought

I also think a lot of people forget that autism runs in families. So yes, Theseus doesn't always "get" Newt (god, no, lol) and he doesn't have guidance on what to do when he doesn't, but it is highly unlikely he hasn't seen behavior similar to Newt's before, whether in a parent or cousins, an aunt/uncle or something else. People *also* tend to forget, IMHO, that subclinical traits are often present in direct family members of an autistic person--Theseus' rigid thinking, for example, isn't necessarily "autistic", but he may get Newt better than people think for certain reasons we never have an opportunity to see in the script. (Not that the movies are paying *that* much attention to the actual research or autism presentations lmao, but I'm just saying it is a possibility). Being able to relate to a smaller version of someone's struggles can simultaneously make one both a better support and a worse one in a lot of ways. (And certain autistic traits can even rub up against each other poorly in different people--I have a few acquaintances that rub me the wrong way because our "symptoms" manifest in very different ways and their natural behavior triggers some of my own sensory issues or overdeveloped sense of justice or whatever. Conversely, my ADHD tendency to be 20 minutes late to every hang gives one of my autistic friends a panic attack every time -- I feel terrible, but all we can both do is try to adjust the behavior around our symptoms. And sometimes the same traits--firmly held beliefs, for example--bump into each other explosively, which I have experienced in fandom myself: two autistic people w diametrically opposing views interacting, but because we process information in similar ways even with very different perspectives, no progress can be made before someone shuts down.) BUT I BRING THIS UP BECAUSE, I do think it's possible to headcanon that some of Newt and Theseus' conflict (which does exist) could even be rooted in differing forms of neurodivergence or presentation of subclinical symptoms.

The world is a big place and there's so many possibilities. These are just some of my thoughts on why Theseus is often portrayed in a way I find to be OOC!

Asterisked footnote under cut -

**I'm trying to convey what Sandra Cisneros does much better in her short story "Eleven." That we, all of us, carry our entire lives and what we have seen inside of us at all times, and I think that's what we bring to our writing.

What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you don’t feel eleven at all. You feel like you’re still ten. And you are—underneath the year that makes you eleven. Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell Mama when she’s sad and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three. Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one. That’s how being eleven years old is.

#answered asks #salamanderscamander #apologies in advance for any typos #anyone can reblog but i ask that you do so with good intentions and respectfully communicate #:)#boundary: i am not open to having discussions about my continued participation in the fantastic beasts fandom - thank you #fantastic beasts #newt scamander #theseus scamander #autistic newt scamander #big brother theseus scamander #scamander brothers #fb fandom #fantastic beasts fanfic #fantastic beasts headcanons #fantastic beasts meta #long post #also i'm sorry for using so much medical model terminology -- i'm in a human dev phd program and my vocabulary is a horrific mezcla of #self-advocacy language & research language - its not ideal i know

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alwaysbewoke · 11 months

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'A Man Who Stands for Nothing Will Fall for Anything'—Here Are 150 of the Best Malcolm X Quotes

“There is no better than adversity. Every defeat, every heartbreak, every loss, contains its own seed, its own lesson on how to improve your performance next time.”

“My alma mater was books, a good library… I could spend the rest of my life reading, just satisfying my curiosity.”

“Any time you beg another man to set you free, you will never be free. Freedom is something that you have to do for yourselves.”

“I have no mercy or compassion in me for a society that will crush people, and then penalize them for not being able to stand up under the weight.”

“Without education, you’re not going anywhere in this world.”

“It is a time for martyrs now, and if I am to be one, it will be for the cause of brotherhood. That’s the only thing that can save this country.”

“Right now, in every big city ghetto, tens of thousands of yesterday's and today's school dropouts are keeping body and soul together by some form of hustling in the same way I did.”

“All of us—who might have probed space, or cured cancer, or built industries—were, instead, black victims of the white man’s American social system.”

“When ghetto living seems normal, you have no shame, no privacy.”

"I think that an objective reader may see how in the society to which I was exposed as a black youth here in America, for me to wind up in a prison was really just about inevitable. It happens to so many thousands of black youth.”

“When a person places the proper value on freedom, there is nothing under the sun that he will not do to acquire that freedom. Whenever you hear a man saying he wants freedom, but in the next breath he is going to tell you what he won’t do to get it, or what he doesn’t believe in doing in order to get it, he doesn’t believe in freedom. A man who believes in freedom will do anything under the sun to acquire . . . or preserve his freedom.

“I'm sorry to say that the subject I most disliked was mathematics. I have thought about it. I think the reason was that mathematics leaves no room for argument. If you made a mistake, that was all there was to it.”

“You're not to be so blind with patriotism that you can't face reality. Wrong is wrong, no matter who does it or says it”

“You don’t have to be a man to fight for freedom. All you have to do is to be an intelligent human being.”

“I have often reflected upon the new vistas that reading has opened to me. I knew right there in prison that reading had changed forever the course of my life. As I see it today, the ability to read awoke inside me some long dormant craving to be mentally alive.

“It is only after slavery and prison that the sweetest appreciation of freedom can come. ”

"[...]After becoming a Muslim in prison, I read almost everything I could put my hands on in the prison library. I began to think back on everything I had read and especially with the histories, I realized that nearly all of them read by the general public have been made into white histories. I found out that the history-whitening process either had left out great things that black men had done, or some of the great black men had gotten whitened.”

“True Islam taught me that it takes all of the religious, political, economic, psychological, and racial ingredients, or characteristics, to make the Human Family and the Human Society complete.”

“America needs to understand Islam, because this is the one religion that erases from its society the race problem. Throughout my travels in the Muslim world, I have met, talked to, and even eaten with people who in America would have been considered white, but the white attitude was removed from their minds by the religion of Islam. I have never before seen sincere and true brotherhood practiced by all together, irrespective of their color.”

“The hardest test I ever faced in my life was praying.”

more here...

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alexturntable · 2 years

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Ok so from that interview do we gain any more insight into what Mirrorball means? Is he saying it's like fragments (the way a it's made up of lots of tiny mirrors). So self reflection or the mirrorball is a song? It's too early and I'm short circuiting!

I’ve been thinking about this since I re-read that interview. Here is the full quote for context:

"I always wanted to use the word ‘Colorama’ in a song ever since I saw Antonioni’s Blow Up. It was an unplugged neon light at the back of my mind for years. Some lyrics are declarations of love or hate written in blood or carved in a bus stop, in need of little or no melodic illumination. Some, I believe, are there almost entirely to facilitate it. If I ever thought about it at all I’m sure I used to think the melody was the vessel that carried the lyrics but more recently it has occurred to me that the opposite is often true.

The problem with the neon sign analogy is that neon signs are invariably bolted to the wall and full of gas. Melody seems as though its poured rather than sprayed and doesn’t feel as though whatever holds it ought to be fixed to anything.

I sometimes imagine each word to be made using a three dimensional open-top glass alphabet. Each letter built to harness and transport the mirror ball liquid marble of the melody. When the ‘substance’ fills up the syllables they seem to shimmer and become weightless. With the addition of close harmony I see colours swirl together, parts of the lyrics glow and the way in which they float suggests that something like the ‘star gate’ sequence from 2001: A Space Odyssey is happening deep inside them out of view.”

So in this neon light analogy the letters are like containers made of glass which are meant to transport the melody. The melody is a "mirror ball liquid marble". Mirror balls reflect lights directed at them in all directions and liquid marble would create this effect of colours swirling together which when put together would look something like the star gate sequence he mentions. So I guess what we can understand from this is that in this analogy the mirror ball is part of the substance that represents the melody which fills the lyrics.

In There'd better be a Mirrorball, he may mean that he hopes that there will be "melodic illumination" or music accompanying this separation he's describing. After listening to Body Paint I feel like Mirrorball could also be a self-refelction song, probably the whole album. So maybe the "relationship" he seems to be ending is actually his relationship with the current persona he's been putting on that he's moving on from to start the process of writing a new album. That's why he starts with "don't get emotional that ain't like you". Maybe it was easier in the past to get rid of a persona but as he gets older it's more difficult to do so. "Yesterday's still leaking through the roof / that's nothing new" some parts of the previous persona are still present but it's always been this way. "I know I promised this is what I wouldn't do / somehow giving it the old romantic fool / seems to better suit the mood" he never wanted to write gooey songs or direct, staright-forward lyrics but now maybe he is.

"So if you wanna walk me to the car / you oughta know I'll have a heavy heart / so can we please be absolutely sure / that there's a mirrorball?" If the old persona wants to walk him to The Car, meaning the new album, he will be sad about parting with the old one so he wants to be really sure that this it's worth it, that there is a really good melody / song to use for this new era. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that this could be the same mirror ball metaphor he had in mind when he made that analogy in 2016 and this is how I would interpret it but it could also be a complete coincidence that he had used that word before. Either way it's fascinating to read the words he uses, his brain will never seize to amaze me.

#i've been thinking about this all day #also this wasn't meant to be so long #ask #Mirrorball #lyrics #alex turner

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ofpineapplesanddawns · 10 months

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Mmm idk if you are taking writing requests, but if you have the time and inclination, would you write something woth Android!Peter trying to explain to Arthur how having his body transplanted into a robobod affects feelings on gender and body issue and things? While Arthur listens supportively but doesn’t really understand. Maybe gives extremely dorky robot specific compliments?

My inbox is always open to requests! (it's just a matter of me remembering to do them after I check to see what they are, haha).

Sure, I can give this a shot! I figure that before the robo upgrade, Peter was trans, yes? Cause trans Peter is always welcomed here. :D

Warning: body dysphoria

On with the fic!

Peter swirled his finger around the rim of his glass, surprised that the damn thing could make a clear ringing sound. Shit, this was real crystal, what kinda fancy ass bar kept real crystal glasses?

Oh, right, Arthur's does. Cause Arthur's bar is just that fucking classy, just like him.

"Is something on your mind, Peter?" Arthur asked, suddenly in front of him. "Typically by this point I am in the middle of preparing your fifth glass, but you seem to be simply nursing your second. Is it not to your liking? I made it exactly the way you like it best."

"Nah." Peter sat up straighter, only to promptly slump on his arms on the counter. "Ain't the drink, it's delicious. It's just... brain stuff."

"Brain stuff?" Arthur frowned. "Oh, shall I call your emergency maintenance contact? Best to have any issues your neurolinks looked as as soon as possible, just in case of permanent damage to the remaining soft tissue links they have in your cranial cavity."

Peter just stared at him, trying to process what the fuck was just said to him. "You've been readin' up on the organic mind uploading thing they did for me?"

"I was curious to see how the trial runs were going, as you are one of the few people actually implanted in your robotic body, it is best to keep an eye on any changes that could be damaging."

"That's... weirdly sweet of you. But no, not that kinda brain stuff. More like my thoughts, ya know? Been thinkin' about my old body. About this one, and how things are so... different."

Arthur nodded. "That is to be expected. After all, you went from organic flesh, bones, and fluids to mechanical parts, often made with plastics, rubbers, metals, and different chemicals and oils to keep you running. Although you are currently programmed to fuel yourself using organic substances, though you tend to lean more towards relying on ethanol-like substances-"

Peter held up a hand to stop him. "No, no, not... not that. Kinda, not really. More like... okay, how much do you know of me before I went all go-go-gadget hot goth android?"

The bartender stared back at him, in that polite way he does. "I am aware of many things about your life, at least anything that is easily accessible through The Network. Which, by the way, you need to finish setting up."

"Eh."

"Anything specific that you are trying to refer to?"

"My... medical stuff. The changes I went through a few years back. Before this."

Arthur's face went blank, that creepy, almost factory-setting kind of face he did when he processed information or was looking something up. He blinked and looked normal again. "Your transition."

"Yeah." Peter picked up his glass and took a long drink from it, placing the empty glass back down. It was quickly taken and refilled in just a matter of seconds. "Thanks. But yeah, my... my transition. Big deal at the time, I was so happy to run around in a body that felt more right for me, you know? Spent a long time not sure why I didn't feel so hot in my skin, lookin' in the mirror made me happy and not happy.

Was all... mixed up, couldn't figure it out. Then I had to do more research, actually talk to some people in the queer community cause I just thought this was me having conflicts with my sexuality. Which, honestly, ain't a problem. Bisexual whore, I've got a pin of that, love it. But when I finally figured out the issue I was having, my brain felt better, but not quite. Too many problems, have to fix 'em. Hard to do that when people didn't take you seriously."

He downed this drink and Arthur quickly repaired it. "So, did the name change, started small, felt too scared to go all out at once. Felt like it might make me mentally sick, too much too soon, too big of a change, throwing me all over the place mentally and emotionally! Clothes weren't a problem, always dressed androgynous, but put a bit more effort into looking like a guy. A guy in goth make up, but still."

Peter looked at the drink, and decided to sip it this time. "Show was starting, was able to get away with a lot of stuff for a while. Finally made the money and had the insurance to get the surgery, the hormone treatment. I was me! I was Peter! You wanna know what the first thing I did when I finally healed after surgery?"

"What did you do?"

"I went back to my show, took a hiatus to heal, and when I showed up on stage I ripped off my coat and presented to the world my lack of tits! It was awesome! I was feelin' so much better, I mean, sometimes there's still the dark thoughts about my identity, here and there, but that's from spendin' too much time overthinkin' things and not being on my pills."

He paused. "Fuck, maybe that's why I'm havin' thoughts again, don't need my pills anymore. Did you know that it seems mental problems can be transferred over to android bodies?"

"No, I was not aware of this. Shall I make a note?"

"Sure, why not." Peter laughed. "Look at that, they fucked up a perfectly good android. He's got anxiety over his gender. Again!"

Arthur stared at him once more. "But you are classified as a male-presenting android."

"Yeah, cause I specifically had that set up in my contract, the body is based on my own body type and shape too. If no one knows of the mechanical bits and bobs under my clothes, I look exactly as I did when I was a meat puppet."

He watched Arthur make a face at this comment towards his former body. "Then what appears to be the problem?" Arthur asked, deciding to address that instead.

"It's... remember when I said I was scared of doin' everything too fast, too soon? Well, having my brain and personality put into an android body feels like that. This is me, this is me, I made those choices, but I still can't... I still can't comprehend that? You know what I mean? I look in the mirror and I see my face, but is this really my body? It's like how I used to look in mirrors when I was younger and it feels weird and off, but it's me, I know this is me."

There was silence between them and Arthur tapped a finger on the counter, as if in thought. "If it is any conciliation, Peter, I do not think that your body has any issues. Granted, the skin grafts that you wanted for it were not finished in the period of time that you had to have your mind uploaded into it and most of your robotic shell is visible, you still look very charming for an android."

Peter snorted loudly. "That's not... that's not the problem."

"I do not see why it should be a problem. Your body is functional, and very up to date! A strong model that runs much faster, both electronically and physically, than most other androids right now. You were sculpted to exact specifications to your requests, including making you look a few years younger, such as when you first commissioned your new body."

The newer android ran a hand through his hair, letting out a startled laugh. "Arthur, dude, that's not... first off, wow, I'm flattered, I think? I can't tell if you're trying to stroke my ego or trying to flirt with me in some strange android way. But that's not my issue here. I'm hot, yeah, I know, I'm a current model of android, but that's not the problem here."

"Ah. I apologize."

"Nah, don't, it's nice that you're trying to cheer me up."

"Has it helped at all, or shall I keep trying to find ways to do so?"

Peter wasn't sure, he still felt like shit, but he knew that was gonna be a constant, was before the upgrade, but he gave Arthur a crooked smile. "It helped, thanks for tryin'."

Arthur clearly didn't understand the problem, which Peter couldn't blame him. He had always been an android, he never experienced the horrors of being human, or dealing with dysphoria and the like. Still, it was sweet that the guy tried anyway, in his own, strange Arthur way.

"How about we change the topic, wanna make me another crazy drink to see if it'll make my glow bits light up like the Vegas Strip?"

Gonna be honest, I have no idea if we established if Peter's upgrade was a digital copy of his mind being uploaded into an android, or if it's that sorta weird organic kinda thing of melding the brain computer parts and just... cyberman that shit up? I left it sorta in the middle, there might be some head tofu in Peter's metal skull, haha.

#arthur x peter vincent #john's drabbles

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