#it’s bittersweet to think about nowadays

[angeltannis]

Just want everyone to know, as the unofficial TWDG fandom historian slash record keeper, that it was exactly 10 years ago today that The Walking Dead Game (Season 1) took home Game of the Year at The Game Awards - a victory that shocked literally everyone including Telltale themselves (who were watching it from one employee’s apartment, drinks in hand, ready to commiserate when they lost), and ushering in an entire new generation of story-based & point and click games that might never have seen the light of day if TWDG hadn’t led the way 💕

[rabbit-hearted-girl]

Thinking about the tiger's curse and how 13 year old me adored the first book just to read the second and absolutely despise it to the point I dropped the series altogether

[theonewiththefanfics]

A Life Worth Living (one-shot)

Synopsis: As sickness creeps closer in taking her life, Y/N has come to make her final amends. Though the Astarion she fell for no longer exists, even the cold clutch of absolute power can't match true love.

This is sort of an AU! because in truth, Ascended Astarion would not give a single shit if you've left him at this point, sorry :D I just had to get this out of my head

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x fem!Reader; Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: talks of sickness (not specified), dying, death, swearing etc. Minimally edited :)

Word count: 5115

The day was much like any other in Baldur’s Gate – sunny without even a single wispy cloud in the sky, yet the Ancunin palace rose above all the rest like a beast in the night, drowning the houses in menacing shadows.

Matches, Y/N thought, to the person living inside.

Wrought iron gate surrounded the grounds, thorny rose vines looping through, while beautiful blooms opened towards the slowly moving star above.

This could’ve been her home, had she not said no. She shuddered to think what her life would’ve been like.

That had been almost five years ago. So much had changed during that time. It didn’t even feel like just half a decade had passed, it felt more like a century since Y/N had left Astarion. But she couldn’t stay with him. Not after he’d Ascended, completing the ritual he’d killed Cazador for, and became what he had always hated – a version of Cazador himself.

Her hand had barely touched the handle of the gates before it swung open on its own accord. Y/N shouldn’t be surprised by it, not with how much magic she’d seen and experienced during her travels, but still, such small things made their impact. Whether it was an invitation inside, or a trap only time would tell.

She didn’t have much of it, which is why she was there in the first place. Had that cursed sickness not been slowly taking over her body, eating away at it, cell by cell, Y/N would have dragged this final meeting with Astarion as far in the future as she could, but there were still friends she wanted to visit, places to see, no matter how limited her life had become.

With thinly veiled amazement, because she didn’t want to marvel at what surely was slave work, she walked down the gravel path towards the large double doors of the mansion, looking at the meticulously groomed gardens. Not even a single leaf was out of place. A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. Where once she would’ve believed Astarion to be the one to care for these plants, now Y/N knew in her heart, he’d never stoop so low as to even get on one knee to prune a rose. Such a thing was below him nowadays. Let alone sleeping next to her on a bedroll.

When she stood face to face with the large carved oak doors, her heart picked up its rhythm. She couldn’t help it, as years of memories, of love won and lost, rushed through her mind. Slowly, she raised her hand to knock.

It took about half a minute for the doors to open, an unfamiliar face staring back at her.

A vampire spawn, eyes red and glowing, looking at her with a cocked head.

“Can I help you?” he asked, giving her an appraising glance.

 Y/N let out a breath. “I’m here to see Astarion.”

“Master Ancunin is not taking any visitors. Not without a previous notice,” he said it almost with a sneer, but she just gave him a smile.

“Tell him an old friend has stopped by. From the times before.”

The vampire looked ready to scoff and throw the door closed in her face, but stopped as he was closing it, a recollection of something flashing across his features. Whether he recognised her as a hero of Baldur’s Gate, or maybe he recognised her from a story Astarion might’ve told didn’t matter, because whatever it was, hopefully would grant her this one meeting.

With that though, Y/N was left to wait outside, pretty much twiddling her thumbs. Astarion probably wouldn’t take it too kindly if she went and took a bloom, though it used to be something he did for her. He used to do so much for her…

About five minutes later, the same spawn appeared, opening the door and motioning for her to enter.

“Master Ancunin will be with you shortly.”

And once again, she was left awing at the hallway, this time completely alone. She guessed no one saw her as a threat, despite the fact she had felled many enemies, including the Absolute. But oh well. At least she didn’t have to awkwardly stand with a guard or something, trying to figure out what small talk to fill the silence with. This gave her a chance to have a look at her surroundings.

A grand staircase, looping up to both sides, stood in front of her, while the palace spiralled away to the right and left. The entrance itself was almost like a ballroom, and she was sure, Astarion had at least one, if not more. What would those look like? What would a ball itself in the Ancunin residence look like? Would there be dancing and singing? Would people be laughing?

She couldn’t imagine it. Not with how he had degraded her after Ascending, telling her to kneel, telling her he’d turn her into a spawn, not because he wanted to spend the rest of their eternities together, but because of the control he now wished to exert over her.

A vision of herself, a blood-red gown, her eyes matching the velvet he’d no doubt dress her in, flashed across her mind. And a beautiful pearl necklace cinched tightly, two large bite marks across the slant of the skin. A collar disguised as gems to tether her to him. One large gilded cage to keep her in.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t my darling, crawling back home.”

Astarion stood at the top of the staircase landing, bringing Y/N out of her pondering.

He was a vision, as he always had been, but now, were vulnerability and love had shone in his eyes, only wry amusement and cruelty were left in their place.

His steps echoed across the empty house as he made his way down, not taking his gaze away from her. Y/N could imagine how she looked to him – covered in dirt and dust from weeks of traveling, eyes hollowed by dark circles and hair a complete mess, skin cracked around her lips, its colour dull. Compared to his meticulously coifed locks, the intricate frock and trousers, and even his gem-covered boots, she was a disaster.

Despite the pain in her heart, Y/N managed a smile. “You look good, Astarion.”

He scoffed, coming to stand before her. “Of course, I look good. I always did. You just didn’t appreciate it. Have you come back to beg? I do like a bit of grovelling. Though after what you did, there might be more you have to do than just plead for me to take you back.”

She chuckled, shaking her head and looped her arm through his elbow, undoubtedly surprising him, as she took charge and led them to the left, no idea where the hallway was going to bring her to, otherwise she might start crying. “Tell me everything Astarion. I want to know how you’ve faired these past five years.”

Her nonchalance, her whole attitude had completely stunned him, something Y/N didn’t think she was capable of, but maybe it was good. Without having knocked him off balance a bit, he might’ve just turned her away, but she needed this conversation. This closure before the sickness took her.

Together they walked inside what turned out to be a dining room. Did he even need one? He didn’t eat human food, even though he was Ascended now, and could enjoy the tastes.

“I have to say,” he started, “I did not expect to see you again.”

Y/N sighed, looking at the paintings hung along the walls, at the gleaming chandeliers above. “Believe me, I did not expect to come either.”

“Then why are you here? If not to apologise for what you did, why bother wasting my time?”

The words stung, but she wasn’t going to tell him the real reason. It wouldn’t matter to him anyway. He told her he wished she died screaming, and though that might still be a possibility, it was more likely she would simply go to sleep one night and never wake up. “Because, although I do not believe I have anything to apologise for, I did wish to make amends. Life for us mortals, is so short… and the thought of living the rest of mine, without at least having tried, seemed… wrong.”

Astarion scoffed, but she could feel him tightening his elbow, as if he didn’t want her hand to slip from the crook it rested in. “I will not apologise for my decisions.”

“I am not asking you to,” Y/N said. “I simply wish for us to become friends once more. If only for the sake of sentimentality.”

“Sentiment,” Astarion sneered. “But what else can I expect from such a creature as a human.”

Y/N let out an amused huff, pressing down the real impact it left on her heart. He knew right where to cut, because when they’d been together during the tadpole adventure, she’d laid her soul bare to him. Told him all about her fears and hopes, how much of a hopeless romantic she was, so now, to tell her it was foolish to try and rekindle if only a friendship, was stupid… but she hadn’t expected more from this version of Astarion.

He’d already given much more time than she’d expected. Half of her had thought when the spawn would tell him who was at the door, he would take the chance and fulfil his words by killing her himself.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. It’s what she’d told him when she’d tried to talk him out of the ritual. How he would be condemning seven thousand other lives. But he hadn’t cared. Astarion had believed he deserved the power, deserved to complete what Cazador couldn’t. Y/N couldn’t stand by and watch, nor would her conscience allow her to be by his side.

And so she’d left. Because there was nothing left of the man she’d fallen in love with. For these five years after, she’d avoided Baldur’s Gate, hearing from whispers and gossip how he’d risen in the ranks of politics and society, how brutal he could be to his servants and those who stood in his way, almost reminding her of when he’d talked about his Magistrate days, only amped to a hundred. A new, sickening Cazador at the helm.

“But how have you been, darling?” Astarion almost sounded bored as they moved into what passed for a living room in this palace, Y/N assumed. “What shenanigans have you caused?”

And so she told him. As a servant spawn brought a tea-set laying out two cups, though Astarion didn’t even pick his up, Y/N recounted how she’d gone all across the Sword Coast, had travelled over the seas and seen knew lands. How she’d done the things he’d promised they would do together.

“Sounds rather… dull,” he commented, lounging on the seat. “But I suppose to such simple minds and hearts as yours, it’s all very exciting and enthralling.”

She wanted to snap at him, remind how half of the ideas she’d completed, had been his, but instead, Y/N just took a deep breath. “Have you finally gotten everything you wanted, Astarion?” she asked instead. “Are you finally happy?”

That had been the true question plaguing her mind these past years.

He turned to look at her, eyes blazing. “I have power, status, people bow to my every whim. What more could I possibly want?”

“Then I’m happy for you,” she said, setting down her half-drunk tea. “Even if it means nothing to you anymore, I am happy you’ve finally gotten what you wished.”

An awkward silence settled between the two, and Y/N took it as her cue to wrap things up. “I best take my leave.”

“And where will you possibly go?” he sneered, but stood up alongside her, making their way back to the grand oak doors.

“Karlach and I are meeting up at a local tavern. And then we’re all going to the get together at Wyll’s. You would know that, had you come to the party Wither’s invited us all to.”

“And waste my time?” he scoffed. “No thanks. This conversation has done enough of that.”

By now they were at the doors, and Y/N turned around, taking in her final fill of the vampire. No doubt this would be the last time she ever saw him. “I hope you have a good life, Astarion. You deserve it. Despite how things went down between us, I do wish all the best for you.”

Slowly, she leaned up and pressed a kiss against his cheek. It was cold, but not as cold as she had been used to. No doubt he used every opportunity to lazy out in the sun, or feed on someone.

Just as she was about to exit, he grabbed her by the wrist, his hold tight and not something she’d be able to break out of.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes narrowed in on her, pulling her closer to him.

Y/N’s heart spiked. Was he really still that hurt, he would finally cash in on that revenge? She knew she would never be able to hurt him. No matter what, that romantic heart of hers would betray her.

He snapped her to his chest, her breath hitching in her lungs, as he leaned down by her neck and inhaled. Her frame was ramrod straight, not daring to move a muscle. When he finally moved back, anger and something else raged in his eyes. Was it… fear?

“Now, my dear, tell me the real reason you came here.”

“I -,”

“And don’t lie,” he hissed. “Because I can smell it on you. In your blood.”

“Smell what?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Death.” And Y/N had to be hallucinating, because she was sure she heard his voice crack. “Sickness and death runs through your veins. It’s – it’s like acid.”

“What’s it matter, Astarion? What would any of it change?”

“It would chan-,” but he stopped himself.

Y/N leaned a bit closer, her Y/E/C eyes narrowed, trying to decipher what she was seeing on that stony face, but pulled back, shaking her head. “Maybe you will finally get your wish and I will die screaming.”

By the look on his face, she understood Astarion did not appreciate the comment. “You dare enter my home, under the pretences of lies and deceit,” but his vile words didn’t match what she could see brewing underneath – despair. If only she was still naïve enough to believe he felt anything else but contempt for her. “I deserve to know the truth.”

“But you do know it.” Y/N shrugged. “So I’m going to ask you once again – what does the knowledge that I am dying, change? I would still die someday. Whether it is in a week or in half a century, I would still die. What’s it matter?”

“Had you not been stupid, and accepted my offer of becoming a spawn, you wouldn’t be in this mess,” Astarion spit, but didn’t release his grip.

“I did not come here to ask you to change me.” She placed her hand against where his heart should be beating, yet everything was still under her fingers. “I am not afraid of death. I am not happy its coming for me so quickly, but I would rather have my life end now, than live as a spawn.”

Hurt crossed his face. “Would living with me really be so repulsive to you?”

“Living as your slave would.” Y/N lifted her chin. “We would not be equals. You would never see me as the person I am, but rather as a thing to own. And I, for one, thought you would be the first person to understand why I would never choose such an option.”

This was not how she wanted them to part, but it seemed like it would once again leave them as enemies.

She pulled away from Astarion, and this time he let her.

“I hope one day you do understand my choices. Because as much as I disagree with yours, I have always accepted and understood them. Live Astarion, if only for yourself.”

Sunlight greeted her, as she opened the door, but she didn’t manage to put a single foot outside, when the vampire grabbed her by the nape of the neck, pulling her back in and slamming the door shut.

“I am sorry my dear, but that simply won’t do.”

Fear didn’t even get a chance to rush through her veins when everything went black.

It was a while before Y/N finally came to, but when she did, she was laid on a plush bed, body covered in a duvet, head resting against the softest pillow in the universe, and the sky outside was the violet of the setting day.

Horror struck her as her memories came to her – of Astarion pressing his palm against her nose and mouth, preventing her from breathing. Of how unconsciousness took over, while his red eyes glared at her fading form. But worse – the conversation they’d had right before that, about refusing to become a spawn.

Did he really hate her that much, he’d turn her against her will?

But instead of Astarion sitting in the room she found…

“Gale?” Y/N’s brow furrowed as she raised herself to her forearms on the mattress. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, you’re awake.” The wizard stood with a smile, walking to sit beside her. “How are you feeling?” He pressed a palm against her forehead, checking the temperature, and hummed when he deemed it to be normal.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “But again – what are you doing here?”

“Astarion called.”

“Astarion?” Y/N was befuddled. She would’ve assumed Gale would be the last person ever he would contact, well, last except for her. Especially if he’d turned her into a spawn. No doubt would their friends come to battle if they heard such a thing. And yet Gale seemed perfectly content in the vampire’s castle.

“He sent such a panicked message, I portaled here as quickly as the Weave would allow and-,”

Gale was stopped mid-sentence as the door clicked open.

But the man standing in the doorway wasn’t the Astarion she’d known before, the man she had fallen head over heels in love with, or even the Ascended Astarion she’d spoken to that day. No. This Astarion had eyes as bright green as freshly grown grass, cheeks red and full of life and the blunt incisors of a human, hope and shame shining in his irises.

She whipped her head to Gale. “What in the name of all the Hells did you two do?”

“We saved your life,” the now ex-vampire entered the room, his movements slow as if Y/N was a deer he would startle if he did anything quicker than the pace of a snail. “And I paid the price for it.”

She swallowed hard. “And what exactly was the price?”

“My immortality.”

Now, Y/N assumed she’d been cured as she was inclined to believe not only because of Astarion’s transformation, but because Gale so meticulously was counting her breaths and heartbeat, but that confession almost did take her out, the shock of it all.

She threw a wary glance at the wizard. “So – so I’m not a spawn?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head. “But I don’t blame you for believing I would do such a… vile thing.”

Heavy silence settled in the room when she finally turned to look at him. “But I thought you had everything you ever wanted.”

“I did so too,” he nodded. “But when I smelled it, that – that sickness in your blood… I guess it is true what they say – love is the most powerful magic of all. Because the thought of you dying – it did something to my head… my heart. I could not let that happen.”

Y/N surveyed him, the new person standing before her. “You gave up everything for me. All the power… everything…”

“I won’t lie – I almost gave into the temptation, I almost did bite you. But these past five years were… miserable. And the thought of living the rest of eternity with the knowledge you hated me before you died… it wasn’t something I could do. Even with all the power in the world, the one weakness I have never been able to rid myself of is you.”

Neither noticed Gale clear his throat and motion towards the door, and neither noticed how it shut behind the wizard, leaving them on their own.

She watched as Astarion crossed the room, and sat himself down at the very foot of the bed, eyes locked onto the fingers in his lap. He was still as graceful as ever, but no longer was there this predatory supernatural sense to it. Now he was more a ballet dancer, than a stalking panther.

“So what happens now?”

“Now,” he sighed. “Now I don’t know. I didn’t really think further than Gale performing the ritual and hoping it would be enough.”

“Am I… immortal now?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, and his smile was so warm, it almost knocked her back down to the bed. “You’re as human, as human can be. Only healthy now. Hopefully with many a decade before you yet to be lived.”

“And you?” she had to address the elephant in the room. “What exactly are you now?”

“I,” he sighed and looked at the wall. No, not the wall, but a large mirror, his eyes boring into the ones of his reflection. “I am what I was before Cazador. As common as a high elf can be.”

“I just don’t understand,” Y/N said. “I don’t get why you would do such a thing. Seven thousand spawn died for you to gain all that power, for you to prove you could complete what Cazador couldn’t. How could you just throw it all away?”

Astarion sighed, standing up and moving to the other side of the room where a large open door stood, leading out to a balcony. He leaned against the railing, and Y/N finally got out of the bed.

She could feel the strength having returned to her muscles. No longer did they ache, no longer did her bones scream, no longer did she feel tired and weak. A new zeal of life had filled her, and she couldn’t get why Astarion had given it all up for her to – what? Live maybe just a couple of more decades?

Together they leaned on the marble railing, overlooking the lush gardens, the flowers now a duller colour, but still as beautiful in moonlight, as they were in the sun.

“For five years I imagined what I would do if you showed up on my doorstep,” Astarion started. “There were times I imagined taking you and putting you in chains, dragging you to a dungeon and inflicting unspeakable pain, because that’s how it felt when you left. I wanted to do nothing but hurt you. And then I imagined how you would have come to your senses, how you would come and beg me to turn you into a spawn, finally realising your place was always beside me.”

He looked at her. “But then you did turn up. And all I could do was barely hold it together and not kiss you then and there. When you said you were dying, but that it would be a better life than with me, something… something cracked. Whether it was my sense coming back to me, the part of my brain that made good decisions being released from a prison of power, I don’t know.” Astarion chuckled. “But the only thing running through my head was – the one person that has always loved you selflessly, is dying. And you’re a pathetic coward that can’t do anything to stop it.”

“When Gale told me there was a way to heal you, but it would cost me, somehow I didn’t even pause to think. I just told him to do it. If the price for you being able to live a fulfilled life was having my power, my immortality stripped away, he could’ve for all I cared, spilled all my blood and let me bleed dry. As long as it meant you were here – living and breathing.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what you would’ve done. And I couldn’t be bested by a dying woman. Would turn you into a full martyr, and I couldn’t have someone outshining me like that.”

Y/N wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat, letting out a choked back laugh. “What was the ritual?”

“Apparently Gale had been looking at certain transfers of power for a while.” Astarion shrugged. “When I contacted him, I didn’t even have anything specific in mind, I just knew he would probably be the best at figuring out what, if anything, could be done. Of course, had the answer been negative, it would not have ended well for our dear wizard, but you understand my point.”

“Well, I am glad Gale is still in one piece.” Y/N looked at him as she slowly covered his palm with hers. Astarion’s breath hitched, when she intertwined their fingers. “And I am grateful to the both of you for what you did. But I will forever be in debted to you.”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, tightening his hold, as if terrified she’d slip away like sand. “There is no debt to be repaid. Actually, I think I should be the one thanking you. For showing up. For even thinking I was worth enough to say goodbye to, but I have to ask… Were you ever going to tell? Had I not smelled it on you, would you have ever told anyone? Because when I told Gale, he was so stunned, I almost thought he would join you and pass out.”

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “By the time I decided I had to see you at least once more before I… well, you know… I’d already met all of our friends individually. I had thought of asking Shadowheart if there was a spell maybe, but ultimately, no.”

“Why would you keep something like that to yourself?”

“I didn’t feel like burdening the others.” She shrugged her shoulders. “We’ve all gone through so much darkness, have so much else to worry about, I didn’t want to add more to that.”

“Surely you know those idiots would ride blindfolded into battle for you.”

“I do. But it’s not like I would want that. Besides… if those were to be my last days, I wanted them to be filled with joy and fun things. Not with Halsin worrying if such excitement was healthy for me, or Lae’Zel scolding me for certain decisions. And let’s not even mention Karlach who’d cross the world searching for a cure that might not even exist.”

“And you left me for last…”

Y/N bit down hard on her lip. “Because it took everything in me to get over the hurt. Get over what you did and said. Because I was terrified you would slam the door in my face if I showed up.”

A tear rolled down his own cheek, as he bit the inside of it. “A fair assumption. And maybe if you’d come earlier, I would have. But… deep down I knew, I would have done everything to try and make you stay. Even through the haze of that power… my heart has always been yours. And still is. If you will have it.”

The words coming out of her mouth hurt, but they had to be said, despite how ardently she wished to say yes and return to how things were. But she knew she couldn’t neither of them could. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Astarion.” She could see him visibly shrink down, tears now unabated as they flowed like rivers from his eye. He wanted to pull away, but she didn’t let him, holding onto his hand tighter, running a soothing thumb over his hand, so warm and alive under her touch, it made her sigh.

 “You’ve just regained yourself.” Y/N tried to give what was an endearing smile, but was probably more a grimace.  “You’ve just become an elf again… there is so much you need to grasp and realise… I don’t think a relationship is what would be good right now.”

Two green eyes met her Y/E/C ones. Gods, the colour was so gorgeous, she felt like drowning in his gaze. “The only thing I was ever sure of in my life was you. Even as an Ascended bastard. And then I blew it. Absolutely smashed my chance to pieces like an idiot, but… if you’ll allow it. I would like another try. If only at being someone worthy to stand by your side.”

Y/N felt her lips quirk up. “Would it be overtly presumptuous of me to think, that by the end of it, you would wish to be more than friends?”

“If I am only allowed to be your friends, I will fall to my knees before you and beg for the chance. But no longer will I lie and say my true intentions aren’t to hopefully, one day, get on one knee, and wish for a shared life.”

She had not seen such a version of Astarion, so candid and vulnerable, since leaving him. And for him to be so open, made some resolve in her melt a bit. “We can try. Slowly.”

It was like a boulder had rolled off Astarion’s chest, his whole body visibly shuddering in relief, before he tentatively, as if waiting for her rejection, weaved a hand around her waist.

She rested her head against his shoulder, revelling in the feeling of him pressing his cheek to the top of it. And when he tilted her chin up, a hopeful gaze in his eyes as it slipped to her lips, she didn’t stop him when he pressed his mouth to hers.

It was like surfacing for a breath after years of being pulled down in an abyss, something Y/N never thought she’d be able to do again. And that kiss – it was filled with so much love, she didn’t need oxygen to breathe.

There was still a world of hurt between then, a universe of making up to be done, but they had time. They had all the time they wanted or could need.

“To a new start, my love.” She muttered against his lips, and the smile Astarion gave her was more brilliant than the moon and stars shining in the sky combined.

“And to a life worth living.”

The next kiss they shared sure as hells was.

Tags:

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird @omggiannarosa @poisonquinzell @iffazu @alisoncdariel

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: My tags are always open

Please don't repost onto other platforms! That is called plaigarism :)

I also had an idea of writing this from Astarion's POV, so if that is something of interest, do let me know :)

[fridayth13]

Could I request Zhongli reuniting with his wife after the two had a falling out 500 years ago?

crushed cor lapis.

↳ zhongli × gn!immortal!artist!reader

↳ part one, part two

↳ genre: soft angst at the beginning, but it's mostly bittersweet | wordcount: 1.6k | warnings: none

↳ notes: i ended up with less angst than i thought i would have. but i did want to explore the thought of time passage and fighting for people who are going to live forever, even if it's subtle; reader is immortal and implied to be an adeptus or a god, but the kind isn't very important; ive had an idea for zhongli and an artist reader for a long time so i tried to combine it i hope you don't mind; as with the gender. i did write with a fem!reader in mind as per the request but in the end, the gender didn't need to be specified for anything so i left it gender neutral; i tried to give reader a more divine disposition about them so the writing ended up really flowery, but in any case i hope you enjoy! i really did have fun writing this one

You were a painter.

In your old life, as you liked to call it, however, you were a god. Your domain of influence laid in artistry and beauty.

Or rather, that was what Morax used to tell you. Archons like him were the only beings in Teyvat with real domains of influence. But you wouldn't really stop him if that was his way of calling you pretty.

That was about five hundred years ago. Nowadays was a very different story.

You crushed the yellow berries in your mortar and pestle to turn into paint for tomorrow's commission.

You liked your job in Liyue Harbor. As quaint and.. human as it was, you thought there was divinity to be found in the painstaking recreation of the things around you. Though a painting couldn't rival a Kamera in terms of accuracy, you were certain it completely surpassed the device in most other things.

You slowed your movements, surveying the consistency of the paint and the color. That would probably do. You'd collected quite a lot, so you supposed it was time to head back. All you were really lacking earlier was yellow.

And so you trekked on home from the terraces, skipping over stumps of cor lapis and sunset-painted grass along your way.

As you finally reached your home in the harbor, the sun had fully gone down. The lanterns lit, casting the entire city in a soft, warm glow. The neighboring waters reflected the deep blue of the sky and the speckles of rust and gold adorning every building in sight.

You opened your door and you thought of Morax, wondering if he knew five hundred years ago what beauty would settle upon his previously war torn nation. Leaning on the doorframe, you watched over it for a while. Children playing, kites flying, dinner being prepared, laughter and joy running amok.

You don't like to think about him too much, or how his silence is present in every part of the city that was all him, despite having nothing to do with him any longer. No matter how much time had passed, you seemed stuck in the first night he decided not to apologize.

Still, five hundred years was a long time. Although it felt like the blink of an eye, even immortals had to move on eventually.

You gathered your materials inside and closed the door behind you.

—

The mountains may erode, but they will always be mountains.

You recalled his own words as you saw him again for the first time in five hundred years.

A human-sized Rex Lapis stood before you, hands behind his back, dressed to the nines, pristine, and put together, and perfect, and not at all like he ought to have seemed like at your first meeting in several centuries. Though at the very same time, you couldn't imagine him looking any other way.

You bitterly savored the way he avoided your eyes in front of his boss.

"So this is him!" She said. The lively Director Hu Tao of the local funeral parlor was Rex Lapis's boss. You tried not to laugh. "Our new consultant, Mr. Zhongli."

You set your canvas down onto its easel, then the bulk of your dyes and paints on the floor. You did this without averting your eyes, as if trying to burn him if he ever had the nerve to look back at you.

He did not. And to her credit, it seemed Hu Tao noticed it as well. So as not to make your client too uncomfortable, you decided to take a step towards them.

"Mr. Zhongli." You said. With the proximity you put between you, he had no choice but to look back at you. Not a lot changed about him in human form, but by far, his eyes were the most the same. Down to the hard, intense stare, and the set of his brows. You wondered how many other people in Liyue he'd enchanted with them while he was busy avoiding you.

"Mr. Zhongli?" You repeated, a little less amused. Though you somewhat enjoyed how stupefied he looked at your appearance, you'd endured his silence long enough. "My name is Y/N. It's an honor to meet you here."

This seemed to regain him his senses. That, or Hu Tao's suspicious back and forth glances between the two of you.

Zhongli cleared his throat.

"..The honor is mine."

Hu Tao nodded, seeming satisfied for now. She clapped her hands together in excitement, turning to you.

"Alright! I suppose I'll leave you to it then. I have complete faith that you'll be able to depict the poise and elegance of my esteemed consultant."

You gave her your best half smile.

"Well, I'll try."

"No need to be modest! I've seen your work before. You're one of, if not the best, painter in Liyue. Just ask Mr. Zhongli! He's been very taken with your paintings even before we first met. He speaks very highly of you."

You crossed your arms. "You don't say?"

Five hundred years or the blink of an eye, you could still see his embarrassment without him having to say a word.

—

Director Hu Tao had business to take care of for the funeral parlor, and so left with a flourish, and a "Make sure to get his good side!" as she ran off.

You both continued to speak as civilians for a little while. He sat down at a table on the porch, a steaming pot of tea on said table between you. Your face was obscured to him through the thick white canvas.

Avoiding conversation was easy, but not. Comfortable, but not. Natural, but not. It shouldn't have been. As such was the nature of a marriage to the Geo Archon, you supposed. Or rather, the current lack thereof. But even that was up in airs.

"How.. How have you been?"

Your responding glare was unseen to him, but he heard it in the vitreous tone of your reply.

"Fine." You said. "Something must've happened to you though. Your eloquence seems to have disappeared into thin air."

"..You are still upset. I see."

"In what world would I be upset, Mr. Zhongli?" Your use of his mortal name created a crease in his brow. You gently brushed over it on his painting.

"I didn't think you'd want to see me."

"You still could've asked." You muttered, momentarily leaning sideways to look him in the eye. "For someone so revered for his wisdom, your brain still seems to be as hard as rocks."

You caught his surprised expression as you turned back to the canvas. You didn't allow him another word.

"Honestly, who ghosts their own spouse after an argument like that? You'd think the best time would be after.. five hours. Five days. Maybe five weeks after. Not five centuries—"

You caught him mumble, "Well, it's not as if you tried to talk to me either."

"I didn't think I needed to. You made it very clear you wanted me to leave you to die in the Archon War all on your heroic lonesome."

When he didn't respond, you snuck a glance.

The sun's rays were at the precipice of turning gold in its descent into the sea. The glow smeared his porcelain cheeks in amber, his eyes in glitter, the metallic components of his suit in light. He looked like a monument. Tall, statuesque, and lonely. Almost like his mountainous true form. More beautiful than even his numerous statues across Liyue could capture. More than you could capture. Though you did certainly try.

Annoyed and angrily pining as you were, you still tried to get his eyes right. The little flecks of rust against gold. Like cuts of cor lapis crushed to shimmering powder in the Archon's hand. A man of his own making.

You looked at Zhongli as the golden hour faded, slowly turning dusky pink. His eyes swam in wistfulness as he stared out at the harbor. You couldn't help the dull twinge of sorrow deep in the pit of your stomach.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

You didn't know how to follow up. You weren't entirely sure what you were apologizing for. But it felt nice to hear it back from him.

When he finally looked back at you, you were tracing the rich scarlet of his eyeliner onto the canvas.

At some point, he turned on the lamp and set it down beside you while you worked on the finishing touches.

"You're better than I remember." He whispered like he thought you couldn't hear him.

You weren't sure what to say to that either. You just kept painting.

—

"This doesn't change anything. I'm still angry with you."

"Of course."

Zhongli never seemed to run out of tea. Despite not having brewed a new pot throughout your stay, the one on the table continued to steam, its aroma wafting leisurely throughout the room. When he offered you a cup after you left the canvas out to dry, you let yourself take it. You allowed him a calmer response when he spoke.

"This may upset you a bit more, but I am also somewhat bothered you never tried to talk to me."

"So we are at an impasse."

Of course, it did occur to you that you were both being hardheaded and moronic. But you were comforted by a few things.

"It would seem so." Zhongli nodded.

"Or maybe not." You quipped, glancing pointedly at an old painting on the wall. "You seem to have been stalking me, Mr. Zhongli."

"I think stalking might be a slight exaggeration."

"Oh, really."

Even as the mountains erode over the centuries, from the dust, they are fated to reform anew.

dividers from @clutteredfun

[soap-ify]

mdni.

YOU'RE AN ANGEL, I'M A DOG | simon 'ghost' riley x reader

05 — i'll meet the judgement by the hounds.

chapter summary — a fool and a coward, that's the realisation you had come to.

tags / cw — no smut, fluff, a bit domestic honestly, basically reader's drunk and simon takes care of you, bittersweet, simon opens up... a bit, angst, suicidal thoughts, very subtle religious references if they even count as one, simon's in denial and reader is on the verge of losing it all. [4k words]

masterlist | ao3 | prev | next

Simon had come to the conclusion that you were a snake, and your love was your poison. Maybe he really was a coward for being afraid to let your venom drown into his veins.

“Remind me to never take you out for drinking again.”

If it weren’t for Simon holding you carefully against him and walking through the street, you’d surely have collapsed on the ground all drunk and worse, thrown up by now.

It was a little mistake. One drink became two, and then three. You had forgotten about your tolerance, and here you were now. It’s all because of Simon. That’s what your excuse was, blaming it all on him. Which was true in all honesty, you had gotten too excited about this little hangout.

“You’ll never go out with me again?” Completely mishearing his words, you looked up at him with wide eyes, tears already approaching. Yeah, you were completely drunk. Simon froze, his heart tearing at the sight of your incoming tears, even if they were just due to your emotions being all over the place now. Emotions that had always been there, hidden deep within.

His first instinct was to ignore your words and just keep walking, his heart begging for him to comfort you. But again, how does a killer comfort an angel? How would the moon comfort the ocean, while being so far away?

“I didn’t say that.” He gruffly replied and continued to look ahead, not daring to meet your eyes anymore.

O Angel, let me fall on my knees, kiss your fingers, and weep for forgiveness. So you may hold my absolution, and make me man again.

“C’mon, we gotta take you home.” Simon internally cursed himself for not taking you both to the bar in a car. He hadn’t considered the possibility of you being a drunk mess. Do I ever consider anything?

“No!” Your loud whine echoed in the empty pavement, and he could barely hold in a chuckle, deciding to bite his bottom lip beneath his mask. “Can’t we spend more time together, Si?”

I’d spend a lifetime with you. But god forbid he ever said those words. Not to you, not to anyone. “S’not like m’gonna die or somethin’, or that you’ll never see me again.” Simon grumbled and tightened his hand around your waist, accommodating your wobbly body, guiding you.

Simon wished he could take your hands and sway around with you, let both of you move into a sweet dance, with the stars praising you. A performance for the cosmos. He wished he could hold you when you throw yourself over him, to let you never escape his embrace. Lovers forever tangled.

He wished.

He wondered what something like that even would look like. His dad never danced with his mother. He remembers his mother looking at him, holding in her tears and forcing a smile. “I promise your dad loves me, just as much as I love him. He's just… exhausted nowadays.” He wished his mother didn’t consider him a naive — a child.

Simon doesn’t think he was ever a child. A child is innocent, his very first cry was a sin.

“Simon?” Your voice snapped him out of the reminiscence he was trapped in. He let out a soft grunt, urging you to continue.

“Have you… Have you ever seen a ghost?” You burst into laughter at your own poor attempt at the joke, a rapid change of emotion, though in your defence, it’s definitely very funny. Your free hand tried to wipe the tears as you continued laughing, and Simon swore that this was truly the angels’ hymn eliciting from your mouth.

“Do I count?” He grinned behind his mask, the side of his eyes crinkling a bit. You quickly shook your head and stared at him with determined eyes, fully set on your question. “In that case, no. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one, love. But if I do, I’ll make sure to tell ‘em you said hello.”

If it was someone else like Kyle or Johnny who would be laughing about this joke, Simon was sure that he would have said something snarky or just straight up ignored them. But not with you, never with you.

“You’re the best.” You beamed, his heart squeezed painfully.

“We’re almost there.”

Upon arriving at your apartment complex, he dropped you off outside your apartment’s front door, the only thing in mind being to flee quickly so your sweet smile doesn’t taunt him anymore. Though he simply couldn’t, your fingers not letting go off his forearm at all. Too exhausted to figure out if it was intentional or not, he sighed under his breath and turned over to face you, brown eyes having a slight shine in them due to the hallway’s light.

“C’mon, you gotta go in and rest.” He couldn’t figure out why his breathing was falling short. Was it the alcohol? He barely drank anything.

You, on the other hand, tried your best to not look up at him and meet his eyes, knowing that it would shut you up. Like the intimidating gaze of a god, a warrior. You had to speak your mind, had to know about something, to ease the storm in your head.

“Are you getting bored of me?” These words slipped out of your lips as a meek whisper, forbidden.

It was a sickening feeling that ensued within Simon after that, as if something was grabbing his heart and trying to rip it out of his chest. Inhale, exhale. He didn’t know what exactly horrified him. Probably the fact that he knew what had caused you to think like that. The perfume.

O Angel, let me carve my heart out with a knife and hand it to you as an offering — apology. So may your hands embrace it and take me home, with thee. So may your fingers caress my cheek once again, and let my blood paint my skin.

“No.” He was embarrassingly quick to reply, fingers curling up into fists by his sides as he inhaled sharply. How could he put such thoughts into your head? How could I? Only a devil, the most evil being, could commit such atrocity.

You paused at his words, not knowing what else to say. No? Then why was that perfume there? You didn’t want him to think you were dumb enough to not notice that. “You’re lying…” Your voice cracked, and it was no longer the alcohol playing you like a puppet. It was you now. You felt like your own marionette. Stop speaking, fucking stop. “I am not dumb, Si. I saw that p-perfume on your couch the other day. Is that why you got mad at me?” God, stop talking please. “You could have just… said that you prefer other girls. Am I… Am I making a fucking fool out of myself here?” It terrified you, your own emotions terrified you. Your voice was rising just a bit, and all your feelings had their hands wrapped around your throat. Controlling you. You didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to say it out loud. You weren’t used to being so open about your mind, and now you felt like nothing but a cat shivering under the rain — alone and abandoned. Vulnerable, naked.

Maybe you and Simon weren’t so different after all. Vulnerability — just why did it terrify humans? Were the angels and the gods just as opposed to vulnerability?

“Oh, l-” Love. It almost slipped off his tongue, and he didn’t know if you even wanted him to call you that right now. The thought alone made him shudder uncomfortably. He didn’t know what to do — stuck in between two roads. Should he lie? Or tell you the truth? — That it was just one time, a drunken act that is nothing but lamentable to him.

Why were you both even acting like an actual couple right now?

He swallowed the lump that threatened to torture his throat, exhaling softly. “I was drunk, and it happened. She probably left her perfume accidentally.” He spilled the truth out. Just the way a mature person would. Don’t be fucking daft, Riley. His eyes assessed the subtle twitch of your brows at that, your lips quivering. He wished he could just lean in and kiss all the tears away, despite them not having landed on your cheeks. Hopefully they won’t.

“Oh…” Your response was too short, unsure and reluctant. It made Simon feel as if he had sinned once again, chains threatening to drag him into the darkest depths of Hell. Home — the one he was familiar with.

You swallowed nervously and looked down at your feet, your hand long having stopped holding his arm. Instead, your fingers were fiddling with one another anxiously. Why did you feel as if you were betrayed? A desperate cry for love, you wished you could say it to him. To his face, sob and scream about what you felt. He was the only one who understood, who was willing to understand. He was the only one who ever was, and who ever will be.

The agreement. It was no longer just fucking, it never was. Not since the day you saw him with Kyle, not since the day he talked with you after Kyle gestured at you. Never. Could he also see it all the way you did?

Your silence was a clear indicator of the fact that you were lost in your thoughts now. Simon’s eyes softened up, and before he could think rationally, his body reacted on its own and embraced you tightly against his chest, strong arms wrapping around you protectively.

“Fuck…” He cussed under his breath, despising how his voice was thickening up with emotion. He hugged you like an old dog messily giving affection to its owner. My angel, my angel. I sinned, I have sinned. I am sorry.

He pulled you impossibly close, as if wanting to mold his body into yours, to become one. He could be with you forever in that way, to be your breathing and you his heartbeat.

You didn’t even feel confused at his rapid action at all. Just broken, so broken. He was the hammer that had finally hit the dam, and broke it. “W-Why?” Your voice wavered and mixed into a sob, your hands tightened holding onto him, fingers threatening to dig deeper as you let your head rest against him, tears tickling your skin. “I am so tired… So tired, Si. I hate you…”

“Do you want me to leave?” His hold tightened despite his words.

“No.” Your words came out a bit more forcefully than you had intended, too anxious to let him go. You felt his right hand leaving your back, a soft whimper leaving your lips once you felt his lips, bare and real, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head, soon realising that he had taken his mask off. Too shy and messy in tears, you made no effort to look up at him and instead continued to cry, emotions desperate to keep pouring out and leave the imprisonment of your body. His hand continued to rub the back of your head while his other held your lower back, both of you unknowingly taking a few steps back and forth together, unable to stay still. It was as if you both were dancing slowly, like lovers.

“Alright. Hand me the keys, love.” You tentatively grabbed your keys from where you had kept it and handed it to him, your hands quickly latching onto him again. He carefully unlocked the front door of your apartment and led you inside, being extra cautious so he doesn’t accidentally step onto your feet. Closing the door by kicking it gently with one leg, he gently guided you towards the living room, easing you down onto the couch.

“Do you remember that creepy guy that came into the cafe?” Your voice was still shaky from crying, eyes all glossy as you finally looked at him, heart skipping a beat. Despite already having seen his face the last time, you still weren't used to it. Were you blessed?

He silently nodded and took a seat beside you, his arms leaving your sides so his large hands could cradle your face, thumbs tenderly wiping the drying up tears away while you talked, eyes looking everywhere but at him due to the sudden proximity. He didn't mind it at all, simply adored your sudden sheepishness.

“I still get scared at the thought of him… I don't want anyone like that to visit the cafe again. I-I don't think I can handle it.” Your voice gradually got quieter by the end, nibbling on your bottom lip. Oh, dear. Simon hadn’t told you that he had already beat that creep up. Now he somewhat wished that he had killed him instead. Surely Price would back him up if he made up some reason, yeah?

Your shoulders visibly eased up at that, your mind clearing a bit. Probably sobering up? You were sure that you weren't going to pick up a bottle of alcohol after this. Leaning into him, you decided to rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. Expecting a soft, calm rhythm — you were instead met with a fast thump, your brows furrowing though you decided not to comment on it.

“He wouldn't. No one will ever treat you like that again, love.” As long as I am here. Possessive yet guilty. He was vaguely promising to be by your side while always avoiding you, protecting you from himself. From the ugliness within him. No angel must spare a glance at a stray, especially not one used to violence.

His hands were playing with the fabric of your shirt now, mindlessly toying with it, feeling the texture under his skin as he gently tugged onto it. It felt oddly comforting, both of you not mentioning what happened outside the apartment a few minutes ago.

You looked up at him again, your eyes falling onto his lips this time. A bit chapped with a small scar adorning the side of his upper lip. You couldn't help but smile at the sight, leaning forward to place a bashful kiss on top of it. Simon let out a soft grumble at that, tilting his head to the side so he could kiss your lips properly, eyes fluttering shut alongside yours. He could taste some hints of your salty tears, his hands holding your waist while your hands held the back of his neck, letting his lips devour yours.

He held onto you gently, not wanting to be tight despite every fiber within him wanting to hold you fully against him once more, like a hound too eager to please.

Once he pulled away from the kiss, his heart skipped at the sight of your lips being all glossy. Ethereal. Your lips twitched into a giddy smile, and he could swear that he felt the heat radiating off you once it crept up onto your face. It felt soft, everything felt too soft and warm. The gentleness threatened to suffocate him once more, a mocking reminder of him being undeserving of such tranquility. He was supposed to be wed to the war, to violence. To the bloodshed that haunted his dreams. Not whatever this was.

But he refused to get up, not wanting to see any more of your tears. “We have to get you to bed. You need sleep.” He spoke quietly, a soft sigh leaving his lips once he felt your forehead pressing against his, letting you lean into him.

“Will you join me?” You normally would have never asked something like that, but the way he was holding you almost made you believe that he was willing to warm up a bit more with you.

Simon frowned at that, pulling his head back slightly. “We can't, you're drunk.”

Realising that he misunderstood you, blood rushed to your cheeks and you looked away in embarrassment, your voice getting timid. “No… I meant sleeping together. Nothing else.”

He paused, eyes softening up as the implication dawned on him. Sleeping together. Innocently domestic — something you both had never touched. He wanted to reject, to say that it’d be better for him to just leave. That could have been the better option anyways. Though he couldn't bring himself to refuse you, too enamoured, as if trapped in some spell by you.

“Fine.” He clicked his tongue in a poor attempt to appear reluctant, masking his inner eagerness. Helping you off the couch, he led you towards the bathroom first, opening the tap. “Let's wash your face first, yeah?”

He did everything — getting you in comfortable pajamas once he finished helping you clean up, even helping you in preparing the bed. Everything. It made you feel as if you were cared for, as if he was the warmth you had ached for throughout your life. The felicity had long spreaded within you once you laid down on bed, watching him lay down beside you.

He was tense, visibly so. You tentatively scooted towards him, a hand reaching out to settle onto his chest, to feel his heartbeat once again. Maybe in this way, you could sync your heart with his, build your own little bubble. Or was that too much to hope for?

“Thank you…” It just slipped out of your mouth like a soft prayer — a hidden whisper to be close to him so more.

“S'nothing.” His eyes looked over at you, taking in the contentment etched onto your face. He wanted to wrap his arms around you and hold you against him, to let you melt in his embrace while you slept. No. That's too much, that's crossing a line. A line made up in his head.

You're building your own grave, Simon. He despised his own mind for mocking him like this, for littering his head with unwanted thoughts. Just one night.

“Sleep now, love.” He whispered quietly, watching you reach over to turn the lamp off. You shuffled besides him again, letting the blanket cover you up.

Simon doesn’t remember the last time he had slept so nicely, your soft breathing his lullaby.

Upon waking up alone on your bed, a heavy feeling of dread settled on you alongside a throbbint headache. Had he left? Wasn't it just getting better?

Holding your heart together from cracking it with every strength you had, you tried to take a few deep breaths. Don’t panic, don't-

The sudden clinking sound from outside your bedroom made you jolt, and only now could you notice the pleasant aroma of something cooking. Sheepishly, you slid off the bed and tiptoed over to the door, poking your head out to look around. Able to make out some of Simon's figure through the open door of the kitchen, relief flooded deep within you. He's here.

“Good morning, Si…” You greeted him once you entered the kitchen, standing besides him, rubbing the weariness off your eyes. He gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, focusing on cooking some breakfast.

“Your whole kitchen needs some restocking.” He mumbled, sparing a small glance over at you. You stayed quiet, a bit embarrassed by his observance. You were planning on restocking it soon, anyways.

The morning went by like a pleasant breeze, your mood ever so joyous today. You felt light, as if floating on the clouds and reaching the stars, as if becoming one of them, alongside Simon. He hadn't mentioned much about last night at all, even gave you some pills and an offer for a head massage. You had declined it, mostly because you didn't want to show how greatly affected you were by the subtle signs of care laced in his actions, despite it being already evident all over you.

You didn't know what had driven you to act in the way you did in the afternoon. Maybe you shouldn't have opened your mouth, just kept it shut and complied.

“Si, I um… I want to talk to you about something.” You paused the monotonous movie literally none of you were actually focusing on, turning over the couch to face him, your fingers tightly curled on your lap, digging into your flesh.

Maybe it was just your heart acting out, feeling as if things had changed. Foolishly clinging onto the thin strong of hope, never learning. Never learning that touching stray dogs was bad, they had fleas. Fleas that had already infected you, threatening to devour you.

“I think… Uh- I was wondering- I just-” Fumbling over your words, all you could hear was the loud beating of your own heart, each nerve of yours set on fire. Anxious, too anxious. You wanted to throw up. “I wanted to tell you that I really… like you, and-” Your words drowned into heavy silence once you took note of just how silent Simon was, how he was frowning.

A fool. A fool who dreamt too much, who was too lost amidst the heavenly clouds of tranquility. A fool who did everything to avoid reality — that's what you felt like.

“No.” His reply was rather abrupt, clear. The subtle smile on your lips fell, and Simon wished to do nothing more than drown into a river. “You don't like me.”

“I-I do!” Unbelievable, did he not believe that you like him? Even love him.

“You shouldn't.” That came out more roughly than he had intended to, a little snarl escaping his throat. “We've already discussed it, this is nothing.’

You should have shut up at that, should have somehow sewed your lips together and quieted down. You couldn't, instead growing more agitated, more on edge. “You can't say that, Si! D-Don't you see whatever it is that we're doing?” You whimpered in exasperation, trying to keep your voice from trembling, miserably failing. “I care for you! I do, and you care for me too. I can see it…” Vision progressively growing blurrier with incoming tears, you looked away and tried to ignore the sting in your eyes, your breath shuddering. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Simon was at a loss of words himself, his heart aching to kiss your tears away and plead for forgiveness. He was a cruel, cruel man. Cruel for being so terrified, cruel for being so persistent.

O Angel, forgive me for I can't let you love me, for light should never kiss the shadow.

“You shouldn't…” He repeated his words again, his voice quieter, weaker. A plea, a request. You shook your head, a sob erupting from your throat as you tried to reach out for him.

He pulled away just as quick, your hand never meeting his. An ocean that could never touch the moon, a man that could never touch a star.

“I need to leave.” Hastily he turned around and walked out of your apartment, leaving you speechless, hand still shamefully held out. Frozen and alone, unloved.

Simon Riley was a coward.

Simon had lost count of how many bottles he had drank by now. Feeling horribly, horribly similar to his father. A drunkard, disgusting. He thought the alcohol could wash his emotions away, drown them hopefully — all it did was make him even more vulnerable, his glossy eyes staring off at a distance.

Weak. Ironically enough, this brute was nothing but weak. Everyone should be laughing at him, you should be laughing at him. Laugh at him for not knowing how to love properly, for being so quick to run away.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing, making him click his tongue in irritation that soon melted away once he noticed the caller ID.

Price.

He picked it up and listened to his captain's words, each syllable both a stab and a blessing.

A deployment again, finally.

notes — i apologise for uploading it after A WHOLE MONTH. blaming it on the writerphew, a deployment! this could mean many things. also a heads up that either chapter 6 or chapter 7 will be the last one (made some changes to my plan!)

[interstellarrisa]

Experiencing different realities

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

I'm currently thinking about how it would feel shifting from reality to reality and experiencing many wonderful things like exploring ancient ruins, fighting corrupted dragons, uncovering the secrets of the place you're in, falling in and out of love and even the daily silly things.

It feels so freeing knowing that this life is not all there is for me and that there are endless possibilities just waiting to be discovered. Imagine all the beautiful sights you'll see and the feelings that come with them. It makes me really excited thinking about it.

Most of us are shifting to media we've watched wanting to live through the plot, meet the people and experience the different worlds that exist but what about when you reach the story's finale? That bittersweet feeling that one might feel. When fighting the final battle for example and knowing that after this the reason you came here is over. It's different for everyone of course so what I am saying here might not apply to you, it's just some food for thought.

Imagining that serene feeling as you're sitting somewhere enjoying a good book knowing you have all that you want and that everything turned out just fine, for that it doesn't matter how long I spend on my journey.

Anyways.

Nowadays I'm too lazy for methods and since I've had many success manifestations I know that all I need to manifest/shift is that subtle knowing of already having it.

Good luck on your journey everyone!!

(this post isn't meant to discourage or scare anyone i just wanted to post about shifting that wasn't about "how to shift 123" "this is what you're doing wrong part 637824" or any shifting discourse just shifting)

[astradyke]

i love being randomly reminded that they are in love for real and have been together for 15 years, i go genuinely insane over that being an actual fact, not a tumblr theory lmao

it's such a crazy thing to think about, right? because like... in the early years (for me 2009-2012), i think it's easier to see their affection in a really transparent way-- they were so young, they had smaller followings, they were living together and doing all these silly creative things and you can just so brightly see how endeared they were to each other. it's actually really heartwarming (and a little bittersweet) to see the kind of stuff up back from that era, like amazingdan and the blindfolded cat game... all their tweets, like.

and then after 2012-- setting aside the other stressors they've addressed that undeniably contributed to how they behaved then-- they started getting like, crazy youtube popular. obviously a slower process-- they were still doing BBC and shit to cover bills-- but there was TATINOF and all their red carpet events, collabs upon collabs, a shit ton of really popular merch? DAPG drops, like, peak fame as you hit 2016 and shit.

and i think that's what shocks me so much, i guess, when reflecting on it. because early days, yeah, they were so gone for each other and you can really tell. imo once you hit interactive introverts & dan has his whole rebrand, his youtube content begins shifting, phil starts changing things up-- there i think my brain has been able to comprehend their love for each other, and especially once you hit hiatus and on i mean... i'm like ceo of laying awake at night thinking about the hiatus years. everything was a love confession then.

but it's during their most popular years where it really jarrs me to remember like, oh yeah. phan was real. they loved each other. they were romantic together. and it's so crazy because it's like... they were online personas by then, they were busy they were doing all these things, and they hadn't get gotten the level of relaxation and confidence they seem to have with their content nowadays and definitely had in the beginning, right? it was this unsteady place. and they were in love.

it's also like... look, i'm five days shy of turning nineteen so i'm not exactly qualified to wax poetic about being in your twenties. but like shit, those are transformative years. and they were crazy public and doing all these bigshot things. and they were in love. and when i look back and see them laughing at each other, eyes meeting for a second, then a jumpcut, i'm like- oh yeah. all this craziness in their lives, a goddamn whirlwind, but they were just. in love. like... fuck, man. they won rpf

[serapheemz]

✧. 🍂 Annoyance

Irritability is the first word that comes to mind when you think of your co-worker, Dazai. Maybe it's time to get some revenge for the backhanded compliments he adores throwing your way.

CW ! choking, hair-pulling, dacryphilia, rough oral sex

EXTRAS ! bottom!Dazai, anal fingering, hand jobs

There's something so erotic about pure needy sex.

It has you huffing and puffing for more air, your lungs constricting and your fingers tightening their grip on the sheets with every moment that progresses.

It's all you think about nowadays.

Every day passes horribly slow and you become very exasperated. Everything and everyone nips and teases you, their voices dance and prance dumbly around your head and encompass your ears.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with your co-workers. Being a part of the Armed Detective Agency is a pleasure on most days, that's if your dumb co-worker, Dazai, isn't bothering you.

He's loudmouthed, horribly annoying with his mocks and dreadful pranks, and even bratty at times. He has this horrendous tendency to target you most days. It's when he knows you're tired and prone to annoyance.

There are so many things you hate about him.

He breathes loud in your ear on purpose, he steals your lunch and tries to feed it to you, he grabs your pens and pencils then drops them to the ground, says "Oopsie, sorry, Y/n!' and proceeds to flaunt his ass as he picks them up. He splashes water on you after he's done washing his gross hands, he randomly asks you idiotic questions that you have to answer, or he bugs you about them all day long.

There are so many things to hate.

But so many others to love.

Dazai can be very bittersweet at times. He likes to arbitrarily compliment you. On every morning this week, he made sure to make at least one ambiguous flattering remark.

You walked into the Agency on Monday. Coincidentally, you bumped into him as you opened the door to enter your office.

He wailed ironically, putting a hand over his forehead and groaning dramatically, saying how he 'didn't mean to bump into you. What a coincidence!' when you very clearly heard him get up and cackle before placing himself behind the door, in big hopes of bumping into you. So, it was very intentional.

This Wednesday he said your top made you look almost as pretty as the café waitress and gave you a funny wink which Atsushi nervously giggled at.

Finally, it was Friday, and he didn't spare you any time in the morning.

Dazai grinned from ear to ear, his pride already glazing his lips and tongue before he even opened his mouth to give you another backhanded compliment.

"Someone tried to look good today. You got a date or something? Lucky youuuu! Not so sure about them, though."

You remember giving him a death glare, one that he'd remember all his life. The indignation in your eyes was probably more traumatizing than his time spent in the Port Mafia.

He continued to make mindless comments about you, to you. It felt utterly ridiculous, but you had no idea if you were supposed to take them as an insult or compliment. Perhaps both, because Dazai has a certain skill he's learned over the years, and that's to get you feeling bothered even with the most random of words.

He's a confusing guy and he loves to make you feel confused about your own self, too. How the hell did that make you feel flattered, needy, and angry at the same time, you had not a clue.

You're not even sure if he does it on purpose, to mess with you. He's an intelligent man, maybe he knows of your sexual frustration, maybe he can feel it gnawing in your aura whenever he passes by you and he's only doing this to drive you to the point of utter debauchery.

How conspicuous.

You don't care anymore though, not when you have him whimpering as you fingered him open, your non-dominant hand holding a fistful of his hair, prettily messy all over his pillow.

His dick ached for friction, that's why he'd involuntarily and subconsciously thrust his hips up, in an attempt to gain some sort of attention.

It made you barbarically happy seeing him beg and whine, claw and gnaw at your hand that held his hair so damn tight it was beginning to render him lightheaded.

"Keep begging like a bitch, maybe then I'll consider it."

"Puh-pleaaaaaseeee-uhhh..." he cried, the burning sensation of your fingers pressing and rubbing his g-spot made his toes curl in delight. Such delight he'd never felt before or even knew of.

Your grip on his hair loosened and you brought him up to meet your gaze. The saccharine pleading look in his eyes spoke millions, yet his mouth was only babbling phrases he couldn't even comprehend.

It was only a matter of time before he began to shed tears over his pretty, rosy cheeks, and you showed no mercy for the pounding pain that reveled in his head.

"Y/nnn," he dragged, trying to convince you to touch him more, "It-It's huurthhinggg... pleaaaseee..."

Your eyes bored holes into his own. The fat, crocodile tears that started out simply as small streaks slid down his glowy cheeks, dripping down his chin and onto the slinky mattress you were deforming using your combined body weights.

It was hard not to give in to what he was pleading for. It was even harder seeing him so disheveled and ruined already. Truly, you had no idea you'd have him reduced to nothing but a whimpering mess from just a bit of dicking around.

You freed your fingers, gently wiping off the excess lube on his thigh and slowly moving them upward, encasing them around his throat and pushing down lightly on the two pressure points. It had him in a frenzy, arching his hips up back into your hands, silently begging.

He was harder than you'd expected. He even hissed when you smooched the head of his pretty dick. Dazai twitched at the sight, he bucked his hips in the air and thrusted into your hand. You pushed him back onto the bed, using your weight to hold him down and keep him from moving too much.

The atmosphere went from rough and suffocating to sensual and tactile.

Dazai's eyebrows raised in astonishment at the feeling of your tongue running down his vein and licking a stripe back up his cock. It was so erotic watching your lips tease him when he ached for some more action.

He mumbles something incomprehensible and quickly his vision flickers. He opens his mouth and he trembles, his thighs clench around your arms, but you push them back, allowing yourself more space to reward him for his patience.

"G-Gonna!-" he cut himself off and throbbed in your hand. The release that pent up inside him finally spilled out along with a string of whiny moans. He's shaking, nearly convulsing and shuddering with every drop of cum that dribbles down on your hand.

You move in, craning your head over his. Your lips are close and you don't take your eyes off his.

He looks desperate, and needy for a sign of reassurance from you. He's tired, scruffy, drained.

You don't say a single word and lean down to kiss the side of his nose, humming melodically to soothe his heart.

"...Are you gonna keep annoying me after this?"

"Mmm, no. Not if you agree to have more fun with me in the future." he smirks weakly.

Your lips part, but you again, stay silent for a moment. You thought things over. Maybe hooking up with Dazai once in a while wouldn't be horrible.

"Yeah, sure. Just don't act like a brat tomorrow."

Dazai closed his eyes, happily humming and sighing. It was a very nice sight. He was really pretty. Those brown locks fell perfectly over his face and on the pillows underneath his head.

You plopped next to him. It was dead silent as if time had stopped. You look over at Dazai, and instead of being engulfed by that burning annoyance, you melt. Maybe the annoying bit of his personality was crucial to making you like him, too.

[xtraordinaryfangrl]

S3 Allison Hargreeves is NOT Canon!

—

I finally bit the bullet and watched Episode 5 of TUA S3 - the episode where Allison borderline SA’s Luther and I have no idea what the writers were thinking when they wrote that into the script.

Actually, no, that’s the problem! They weren’t thinking!

Up until that point, I was genuinely enjoying this season. The Sparrows were annoying but intriguing characters. The Diego and Stanley dynamic was everything and seeing him as a legit father in the final season will break my heart. I loved Viktor (or V, as I affectionately call them) and his transition as well as everybody’s reaction. Especially Allison’s, and her comradery with him in those first few episodes made me feel things. BITTERSWEET THINGS. Their relationship has always been so interesting to watch and I’ve grown fond of them as a duo despite the tension and angst they’ve displayed throughout the show.

I felt the desperation Allison had to get her daughter back, the way it boiled and bubbled up to rage. I understood her motive and empathized with her pain, even agreed with her and the rest of the Hargreeves pack on the Harlan situation. I could see her delving deeper into her “Wandavison Era” and I was ready to side with her on everything, then THAT scene happened.

Her relationship with Luther always creeped me out because of their romantic history. They were raised together before they got together and called the same man father - which is just another weird layer to the incest trope. She forces him to kiss her when she could have just… threatened to rumor him? Or at the very least show she could still control one thing at that moment by making him stand still?? That would have driven her point across just fine, WITHOUT Jedi mind-tricking a non-consensual sexcapade???

What’s worse about Allison’s character assassination is that she most likely doesn’t see anything wrong with what she did, and neither does Luther because like the doe-eyed himbo he is - he immediately skips off to see Sloan as if he’s the male lead in some early 2000s rom-com! They didn’t see an issue with what happened because the writers didn’t see an issue, and that’s MY issue with this.

Nowadays, no matter how a story is told, everything is up to the audience’s interpretation. But sexual manipulation, depression, and other important topics that real people experience should not be treated as an ambiguous “oh it can be taken multiple ways” plot point.

If St*ve Bl*ckman or whoever mapped out Allison’s S3 journey was a competent screenwriter, they would have refocused her contempt on The Sparrows. And if they REALLY wanted to make her past with Luther a central point, they could have put her “you’re blowing me off for some knockoff you’ve known for five minutes?” line to good use by making Sloan her target instead of Harlan.

—

I don’t know. This was a whole rant and maybe none of it makes sense. But aside from the few good things to come from S3 (such as V coming out as trans and Diego/Lila pre-parenthood shenanigans), nothing else happens. Any “canon storyline” after S2 is an acid-laced fever dream as far I’m concerned.

[pharawee]

I've been meaning to make a list of spooky (Thai - because negl that's 99% of what I watch) BL series and movies and what better time to post this than in October?

Spooky BL are my favourite flavour of BL. Turns out, there's actually a lot of them (maybe because Thailand does horror so well). These are only the ones I've watched (and enjoyed) so this list isn't complete.

*On another note: horror doesn't faze me at all so I can't really accurately say how scary some of these are. If you have squicks or triggers like jump scares, gore or bad endings please feel free to ask and I will do my best to give you a heads-up.

✨Spooky Thai BL✨

He's Coming To Me | Probably one of the first series everyone will think of. Not that spooky but a solid ghost(love) story with a murder mystery at its core.

Hidden Love | This is a budget show filmed under serious constraints during the worst of the covid pandemic. It's clichéd. It's over the top. But it's also got its charms. It comes with a tragic ghost (love) story that completely overshadows everything else with its many flashbacks and plot twists. If you manage to get over the camp. I warned you.

Dear Doctor I'm Coming For Soul | This one has reapers and ghosts and lots of bittersweetness. It's not that creepy since the supernatural elements are very matter-of-fact. It will make you cry though, sorry. :(

Ghost Host, Ghost House | Spooky with incredible chemistry between the leads and a cast of characters that you will immediately fall in love with.

He She It | A three-episode miniseries with a haunting soundtrack and a nice plot twist. This will make you miss JeffGameplay. :(

Low Frequency | Not spooky at all, and a bit slow and empty at times, but it has ghosts (in a way) and a sweet enough couple.

Make a Wish | Unfortunately, this has never had an inter release. There's inofficial subs floating around on grey sites but as of yet the series hasn't been fully translated. Which is a pity because it's a cute show about angels and spirit possession and (some) murder mystery.

Midnight Museum | I'm stubbornly putting this under BL. This show has everything and everyone. It's genuinely spooky at times but mostly draws on folklore, the mystical and an absolutely stellar cast.

On Cloud Nine | Short and beautiful. An indie production that's more ethereal than genuinely spooky.

🎞️Red Wine in the Dark Night | The oldest entry in this list. Admittedly, not very spooky (and instead rather surreal and sad), but it has one (1) vampire and Fluke Natouch in a role that's more grounded than we're used to nowadays.

Something in my Room | A spooky show with ghosts, mystery and romance that hides a lot of commentary behind metaphors and allegory. Criminally underrated because it didn't have a wide enough release. If you want to binge something fun and spooky for Halloween then this is the series to go. Prepare tissues.

✨Not a BL but hey, I know that actor!✨

Enigma | Win Metawin (and surprise guest!) in an incredibly well done 4-episode series about the occult with interesting worldbuilding and the promise of a second season.

🎞️Ghost Lab | Tor Thanapob and Ice Paris in a genuinely gruesome, shocking and scary horror movie. You've been warned.

Girl From Nowhere | One of the best things tv has to offer, and genuinely dark as well. Up Poompat, Pepo Nutchapan and James Teeradon feature in some of the loosely-connected episodes.

🎞️Hoon Payon | Phuwin Tangsakyuen, Up Poompat and Bank Nuttawat in a classic spiritual ghost story. More shocking than scary.

🎞️Inhuman Kiss | Oab Oabnithi and Great Sapol (sadly, not as a couple) in a sad and romantic take on a classic Thai legend.

Let's Fight Ghost | A Thai remake of a fun and somewhat spooky kdrama with spiritual themes. And Saint Suppapong.

🎞️Pee Nak 1, 2, 3 (and soon 4) | I'm biased because I really like this movie series. It's spooky but in a fun way. It has queer characters (as comedic relief - but not in a degrading way) and can get surprisingly deep. Watch this if you want to see (baby!) Tar Atiwat grow up on screen (because he's in all four movies). The third movie rewards you with some surprisingly sweet MeanPlan that might continue into the fourth movie.

School Tales | A Thai horror anthology centred around students at various schools. This series has Fiat Patchata, Kay Lertsittichai, Pepo Nutchapan, Mark Siwat and, most prominently, Saint Suppapong and Chimon Wachirawit in well-paced 50-minute episodes.

The Stranded | One of my favourite series ever. If you watched LOST then you know what to expect. This has 3 QL couples (Perth Tanapon & Mark Siwat, Win Pawin & Tanthai Tatchapol, Ticha Wongtipkanon & Chaleeda Gilbert) but don't expect any of them to get a happy ending. Sadly, this series ended on a cliffhanger and won't get a second season due to the lead actor's tragic passing and Nadao's dissolution.

✨Upcoming Spooky BL✨

7 Days Before Valentine | Death Note but make it even more of a BL. Patrick Rangsimant originally wrote this so I'm really excited. Plus, it will begin airing in November which is almost as good as October.

🎞️After Sundown | A period ghost movie that hit Thai cinemas this summer to great success. There's currently no news on an international release.

🎞️Death Is All Around | Saint Suppapong coming through with another spooky production - this one about death and the afterlife. This also has Seng Wichai, Bas Suradej and Dun Romchumpa (presumably as a couple).

The Hell Guards | Chains of Heart but make it spooky. Oh, I am so excited for this!

My Imaginary Boyfriend | Based on another one of Pat Rangsimant's novels (my favourite, atually). This one is more grounded, and spooky in a more psychological sense.

Mystique in the Mirror | Another one of Pat Rangsimant's novels (and psychological horror too, by the looks of it). This one started filming back in early summer so it should be airing soon.

Shadow | This series will air its first seven episodes on Halloween and that should tell you everything you need to know. It's a suspenseful (ghost?) story set in a Catholic private school.

Spirit Reborn | This has the potential to be very spooky, with curses and spirits and past lives.

SunsetxVibes | This is going to be messy and spicy but the short pilot trailer did have spooky undertones and possible spiritual themes.

The Whisperer | More psychological horror but this time not penned by Pat. Apparently, this has been in production for a while so hopefully we'll get some news soon.

Zomvivor | The only zombie series on this list has entered pre-production and is slated to be released in 2024 (hopefully before October). Will it have BL? I don't know, but it stars pretty much all of domundi's acting couples (and more).

1000 Years Old | Will it be spooky? No idea, but it does have vampires and sometimes that's enough.

[roomsofangel]

I WISH YOU STAYED.

choi san | written by roomsofangel

pairing ex!san x reader

genre(s) angst angst angst!

word count 871

warnings just full on angst, there’s not really any comfort. mentions of reader consuming alcohol but its only once and nothing comes out of it. mentions of arguing, alludes to a toxic relationship despite they’re being a lot of love. right person wrong time sorta thing, a lot of hurt.

synposis its raining and you find yourself thinking of the past again

or

is it possible to meet again in the dream realm? is it possible to have the same dream? san finds himself asking this question, on a rainy night, thinking of the past

a/n i know i said i was gonna post an update for my current ongoing fics soon but i wanted to write this first and post it…now, this work means more to me than anything and i technically did have help despite them not knowing i’d even write about this. this is a form of also letting go for me in a way. i used specific quotes from my favorite movie that reminds me a lot of the situation and the person this was inspired about.

rain tapped against the window, a slow and steady beat that filled the room with its somber rhythm. the air is thick with the wet, damp smell of rain, mixing with the faint scent of your shampoo from the day before and the melancholy in your heart. your bed is warm against your skin, holding you close as you stare up at the ceiling

you weren’t sure how long its been, how many hours passed but the rain only got heavier with time and it reminded you of the internal struggle of what you seemed to always feel nowadays. what were you? the rain or the rainbow? the storm or the first speck of sun that comes shining through to give people reassurance its about to be a better day?

if you were asked at this very moment, you’d tell them that you were the storm and your rainbow went to go find another raincloud to help give reassurance to

“i need a drink,” you muttered despite being the only one in the room, sliding out of bed to wander off into your kitchen where you used your refrigerator as a nightlight. you took out a glass and set it onto your counter, going back and forth between the fridge and the countertop. you poured yourself some amaretto, watching it fill up to the top of your glass and set it back into its cold home before bringing it your lips

with each sip, you felt warmer inside but the ice that manifested itself to stay in your flesh and bone didn’t thaw out. you still felt hollow like you did that night.

“we were never good for each other..” he whispered, sniffling as he watched you with matching teary eyes. you swallowed the cry that threatened to spill, chewing on your bottom lip as you nodded. “and we tried.” he added in with a bittersweet laugh to mask he was hurting too

god, why did he always have to mask his hurt? you hated how he always did that even in your dreams, but was this even a dream when it all feel so real?

you watched how his hands came up slowly, cupping your cheeks to have you meet his teary gaze and you sniffled, “i know.” you replied back, voice soft and wobbly

“there’s more to life, y/n.” he pressed his forehead against yours and you let yourself breathe, taking in what would be the last time you could feel him again, “there’s more to life than arguments and whatever it is we had.”

you sniffled, “i know.” pressing your lips together, tears running down and you could taste the saltiness of your heart breaking. “i know.” you repeated again as if the first time wasn’t enough, as if the second time wasnt either and he sighed

it seemed as if everything was demolishing around the two of you, the room you were in. the floors creaked and the walls began to show signs of decay, the cracks becoming more evident while the windows, despite not making noise to show the damage, were shattering with each second that passed and you found yourself muttering, “what if you stayed this time?”

“we both know i can’t stay…” san whispered, voice filled with the same hurt you remember him having that night and you found yourself breaking more, “i walked out the door.”

you prayed to whoever was out there, whomever was making you have this lucid dream to let you keep this, let you have this one last time for a little longer but it seemed it fell on deaf ears from when you blinked and then found yourself at the same door you will always have burned into your memory.

you watched how san had his hands in his pockets, nose rosy as he sniffled and walked more out the door just how he did back then,

except,

the only difference was you running to the doorway, “san!” you called out, hands on the frame while your voice cracked at how you tried not to cry and he turned to face you with an expression that was filled with both surprise and heartache, “come back and make up a goodbye at least.” you managed to get out after the silent gaze made you fall apart all over again, “lets pretend we had one.”

and you could see his expression falter, how his adam’s apple bobbed up and down while he gulped and wiped his eyes when he walked towards you.

the same rain falls heavy against another window and slides down, leaving thin rivulets down the glass. a relentless makeshift waterfall that served as a constant reminder of the grief that dwells within san’s mind. he sits on the edge of his bed, sniffling and trying not to remember what he dreamt of but it burned through his skull and itched his frontal lobe

he swears he still had your words from that dream in his head, how you looked at him and called out from the door i wish you stayed.

he choked back in his sobs, letting himself stare at his hands while he wept, knowing you couldn’t hear how he whispered into the air, “i wish i stayed too.”

[duodaiki]

Back in the early 2010s of Tumblr, I started a second account on here to post about Achievement Hunter and Rooster Teeth. I LOVED the fanart, the gifs, all the cosplays that the fandom was making and wanted to share it constantly (and my friends were tired of me flooding their timelines). So making the second account made sense.

And then that fucking account exploded and became one of the biggest AH/RT accounts on here.

I never thought in a million years that making that blog that would change so much of my life. I got to meet so many amazing people through that account, damn near all of them being incredibly talented. I developed so many close friendships, many of them I still have to this day. I got my first professional convention experience through RTX, my first major career opportunity, just a lot of firsts in general.

Sucks that nowadays, Rooster Teeth is extremely bittersweet for me.

In the final years, there were a lot of things that happened that affected my opinions of the company and changed my thoughts. When I think of Rooster Teeth now, I don't have much of a reaction anymore. I cared more about the people working there then the company itself for the last few years to be honest.

Learning of Rooster Teeth shutting down today didn't make me sad, but it didn't make me happy either. I felt so much pain for my friends who worked there and now have to start job hunting in such a scary time. I want the best for my friends and hope things work out for them and that everyone gets a secure job quickly. I have so many mixed feelings, but one thing for sure is that I will miss the better times.

This company changed my life, and I will always appreciate that. There is a lot that I miss, but I have moved on from most of that over the nearly 2 years I've separated myself from the community. I debated about writing this but in the end I think this is a good way to say it was sure as fuck a ride. Take care everyone.

-Formly DuoAchievement

[onelocket]

Can I request a fyodor x reader who’s a photographer? Taking photos of natural scenery and usually always has a prompt to go by, but also tends to beat themselves up about their work and maybe something along the lines of them saying they hate their work? Sorry if that’s too specific 🫶

hello anon! don't worry, it's fine!! this request surprised me a bit, but it let me open up to an idea. i hope i did okay, thank you for requesting ♡

a keen eye needs a keen heart Fyodor D. x photographer reader

involves -- domestic relationship, slight parallelism if you can spot it ^^

offering -- JAEHYUN, d.ear - try again (Instrumental ver)

Click after silence, silence after click.

It is, by this point, all you can only hear in these engulfed moments of life being copied in a digital showcase. It's as if you're shrinking nature into tiny, portable photographs—and to you, you find it endearing.

Nowadays, many humans have pushed the Earth they can not live without as some topic to either mingle or discard; however, there were still some people who truly show affection for it. One of them being you.

Photography has been your door, the natural scenery of this world being the contents. With the prompts who linger in your head from photo to photo like the wind enveloping you peace in your space, there has yet to be a talent and skill to which makes you feel the same passion as photography has.

Although... sometimes, it can be very overbearing to shoulder.

The burden of habits were, inherently, starting to flood you. While you had no desire to give up on what you're good at, you ended up doing the same things everyday.

At this point, you wouldn't be surprised if you woke up and find your fingers already meeting the camera, waiting for your head to think up a prompt.

It's almost like you weren't thinking anymore, just doing.

..

Cracking your train of thoughts back to reality from the unlooked-for process of zoning out—a soft groan finally cuts through the silence as not even, perhaps, a stray animal crumbles the fallen leaves to accompany you from the quiet.

You've been snapping photos of the dark forest trees that you were more than sure are enough already. You still need to edit them later, but for now...

"I need to go find Fedya." You mumble, glancing at your camera one last time before you carefully put it back in your bag, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear while you began to walk.

You weren't alone in this forest. Your boyfriend—Fyodor, was also following you to momentarily keep you company before he gave you some alone time.

You didn't have a solid lead of where he could be now, but he couldn't of gone that far..

"I'm here, moya milaya." Till suddenly a familiar voice hugs your cold ears, making your body turn as you see him. The male with a fluffy ushanka, the white of his clothing topped by his long black cloak. Fyodor's voice and appearance makes your bittersweet face curl to a softer smile, walking to his direction to hold him.

"Hi." You lacked energy to say more than that, allowing his arms to give you an embrace close to a hug while he looks at you fondly, "Are you okay?" keeping his voice low in hopes to calm you.

"Yeah.." You mutter, deciding that to talk might be the best despite your exhaustion.

Stepping closer, you pretty much sink your head on his chest as Fyodor lets you without a word, his hands on your waist like you were a delicacy. "I'm just... annoyed, that's all."

"Annoyed?" He asks, although does not budge further than that. Muffling your voice a bit on his clothing, you continue, "I... I have this burning feeling that none of the pictures I took were good enough, but I feel too tense to try again." feeling a grunt wanting to escape your throat. "I.. tsk, I just..."

"Now, now." Fyodor interrupts you, gliding a hand on your back to comfort you. "Breathe, (Name). I can barely hear your breathing."

"Sorry." Your grunt wins your head, escaping with your apology. However, you follow suit to your boyfriends suggestion as you take his quiet embrace to find the rhythm of your breathing.

When you swiftly swept that off, your hands wrap a little tighter on Fyodor's body as the warmth of his coat hiding your arms gives you a chance to take a deeper exhale. You vent once more, "I still need to take so many more pictures today, most in different places thanks to this list of ideas. It... I just..? Ah, for damns sake— I hate this job sometimes."

"..." Fyodor kept quiet, simply gliding his hand on your back like a light massage as he kept you leaning onto him.

Perhaps he was thinking, perhaps he was surprised. Even so, you were slowly losing your conscious to tension and irritation anyway.

"I see. How about you stop for now and take a break?" He finally spoke out, making you tilt your head just a little to let him know you were listening—although you still kept your head on his chest. "If you don't now, you'd be too tired to take photos properly, right?"

"...Right." You hum out in defeat, a light one, that is. Your boyfriend had a point after all, a break sounded nice right now. "Okay, I'll take a tiny break."

Your agreement makes Fyodor close his eyes, albeit you don't see. "Alright. There's a cafe nearby, at the marketplace we walked by. Would you like to relax there?"

And undoubtedly, you had no reason not to accept.

Coffee and tranquility, light hues of brown and lighthearted topics were all that you two shared as you spent more time in the cafe.

Honestly? There was a part of you that thanked he wasn't talking deep topics with you right now, otherwise you might've exploded... though then again, Fyodor wouldn't be the guy to do that anyway—with you too tired to think, how would he get amusing yet interesting responses?

You were sitting comfortably on your chair as Fyodor was back at the counter to pay for the drinks you two had. Your hands occupied with your camera as you scrolled through photographs of your lover enjoying his food, with his endearing smiles you'd never want to miss.

He can be really cute sometimes, is what you thought to yourself.

"(Name)." Yet your little happy circle gets dashed on by his voice, making you turn you head around.

You knew he saw you looking at his photos, which made your cheeks burn a little. But he does not participate in teasing you with it as he tilts his head, "Shall we go now?" making you nod in reply—quickly closing your camera again to get yourself standing up.

At least you've saved the photos. You can look at it later.

As you two left the cafe to now walk through the marketplace, your eyes easily come across a stall that was undeniably different from the rest. It held the same shape of the stalls surrounding, however it was selling toys rather than any consumable product.

It led you to lightly tug on Fyodor's arm, making him follow your heads direction. "Can we go over there, Fyodor?" You ask him like a kid, making him softly chuckle. "No need to ask it that way. Let us go."

It didn't take long for you to get closer to the displays, eyes faintly sparkling at the sight of the items now in front of you.

Your attention is soon grabbed by a specific teddy bear, small, yet very cute.

It had your usual button eyes, lighter shade for its tummy and round ears. You couldn't help but find it the way its sown a bit eye-catching however, realizing it might be hand-stitched—which lessened your surprise for it's location.

"Is something wrong, milaya?" Fyodor wakes your squinting eyes to. You stop bending over and stand up straight again, smiling as you turn to him. "No. I just found the plush to be cute. It looks hand-made, too."

Taking his silence as a gate to continue, you add, "It's hard to see at first, but the fabric it's made of is actually similar to a normal towel rather than your usual fabrics for teddy bears. The buttons are black, yet they have faint scratches of them.. make's me feel a bit bad, actually." getting a bit distracted from your thought as you look back at the item.

Fyodor couldn't help but smile, eyes watching you stare at the teddy bear like you truly were some kid at an amusement park. "Is that so? How keen of your eyes to have noticed that quick."

But before you can counter a playful reply to that, another party joins you two.

"..E-excuse me." The voice squeaks to, childishly and feminine. "Are you going to buy one...?"

The tiny child comes out of its hiding spot, a girl with short brown hair... and a bit of a fatigued expression.

"Hi there." You speak up first, hiding your camera as you felt it might frighten the little girl. "What's wrong, do you want the teddy?"

"N-no." She shook her head at you, her eyes taking slow turns to you and your boyfriend as you step next to him. "I... made the teddy."

"...Oh?" Fyodor was the first to talk this time, your surprise a copy to his. However he does not let it give any chance to appear rude as he smiles at her, "Do you own this stall?" you following to his friendly approach with your own soft expression.

The child nods as her fingers play with one another nervously, "Yes. Um.. I..." eyes losing contact with Fyodor's while she tries to find her words. You two kept quiet, your own eyes falling back to the teddy just beside you, though you still listened.

"Nobody.. is buying any. I-I'm trying to earn some money... so I can help and save my little brother..."

"..."

So that's the reason.

Immediately couldn't you help but find your fingers meeting the same teddy you've been staring at. "In that case, Fyodor.. I want to buy this." You spoke, stepping a foot forward and showing the item now in your arms.

The corner of your eye sees the girl blink expectantly at your action, Fyodor.. silent for a bit, before he quietly clears his throat.

"Go ahead. I'll pay for it." He responds with the smile he put back on, glancing at you before walking to the little girl. She had stiffened for a second until your boyfriend crouched down, "You'll be the one to save your little brother, I'm sure of it." his expression unreadable to you in this position.

Your eyebrows furrow for some reason, seeing a hint of surprise on the girls face. Why was that? You had no clue. Perhaps it was his expression, but you couldn't see it anyway.

Though soon you see the girl smile, pink hugging her cheeks. It served you finally exhaling that deep breath you didn't realize you were holding back, your own smile escorted suit while you hear a hum from Fyodor and see a tilt of his head.

Their silence was met, but it was a happy one as she looked like she could finally have some hope in her eyes again.

"..." You swore something possessed you as your other hand made work of grabbing your camera, trying to be sneaky with stealing a clip so you wouldn't startle the girl nor get Fyodor back standing up. Not now.

Not while he was making a child smile, him knelt down like he was her father. It all happened so surprisingly and suddenly that you failed to control your instincts to click a moment of it to stay forever.

Perhaps you should also take pictures of the stall too. If it gets recognized, you too can help the girl and her brother. The thought made your heart warmer.

With the teddy bear now in your possession, both of your hands were occupied by the stuffed toy and your arm linked on his as you two kept walking. The day was about to end, and new hues of color were now drowning the sky—yet in an alluring way.

"The sky looks beautiful." You breathe out, colors of purple, pink and orange mixing with each other like a harmony made to be one.

Fyodor doesn't reply, however makes your words known as his gaze also follows the paint of the sky.

It's been a while since you've looked at something like this and felt no burden carp your head. You've been prompted with too many morning scenery, it honestly felt so good to see the opposite for once after a long while.

It makes you pull out your camera, slowly unlinking your arms from Fyodor. Before you knew, the look of endearment and pure joy reappears on your face as your features only accentuate it further—and while you weren't looking, such expression on your face makes the male next to you smile as well.

Click!

How many times have you taken a photo today? You had lost count.

Taken in, your feet lack to tell you the way it walks closer to the railings you two were just in front of; Fyodor initially wanting to inform you, however stops himself and just follows behind.

Click!

You rose your camera a bit higher, trying to find a better angle as the colors keep pattering with one another.

You felt like the photographer you always were—your heart fluttering and beating through rushes of attachment and sentiment, no longer numb like you felt it go a few hours ago at that forest.

"There we go." You hear your lover call out, making you lower your camera down to your abdomen. "See, I believe you push yourself too harsh, milaya... all you need is to let the burdens go once in a while, and recall to the true reason why you're keeping up to what you've been sticking up with till now."

Recall to the true reason why, huh.

..It's a bit embarrassing now, as the seconds pass. Crimson pats your cheeks as you fully turn your body to Fyodor, hands still on your camera while his was on the railing.

Why couldn't he just say all of this earlier? At the coffee shop maybe, or even when you two were still at the forest. You ended up taking too many pictures of the things that you found fondness in, things that you kept smiling to as you snapped the photographs. Albeit they weren't natural scenery, it had as naturally brought you back to your talent, yet without the reminder of your habits.

There was only one thing you could say.

"Fyodor... you planned all of this, didn't you?" You finally ask.

"If I simply spoke with words, I fear they wouldn't be enough... so experiencing it is arguably better. You wouldn't of seen this sunset sooner than how you would at home, would you?"

Fair enough.. though it still makes you laugh. Plan after plan, he never seems to get short circuited on it just to get you happier.

"You really didn't have to.." You try to whisper, feeling a bit bad now. But Fyodor doesn't seem to even feel the same way as you did as he simply closed his eyes with that same smile, "Well, what other ending could I have given you?"

After all, a keen eye needs a keen heart. And sometimes, it just needs a small reminder on why.

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

My Sydcarmy dream happy ending? Or Storer's?

This is the 1st time I actually envisioned a whole scene with music and all in my head. I always had the feeling that the end of the show is gonna be like the final scene of Braciole: All together, the found family, maybe at the restaurant, maybe not, and just having dinner and having a good time.

After that "vision" I had, I found out that Storer mentioned in a panel that food had always saved them as a family, he was talking about his own family. So I figured: OK so since the show he created, the whole Bear universe, revolves around food, that's gonna be the ending. I felt he kinda confirmed my "vision", my take, the one I had as soon as I finished watching S1. I could already see that ending and believe in it wholeheartedly. And it looked like that, but blurry, because it was just season 1, and even though I knew there was a S2 that I hadn't watched yet (watched it the next day, actually), the overthinker in me was already daydreaming about THE SHOW'S FINALE.

OK, cut to me obsessing about this show after watching S2, that IMO was even better than S1, which is VERY RARE nowadays on TV, and then me re-watching both seasons and dissecting them till the cows go home and then re-watching S2 only over and over to analyze every single layer of Sydcarmy as humanly possible, and literally cutting my working hours to have more time to do that LMAO! etc. So, I ended up noticing the whole script structure Storer (and Calo) came up with, it's Austenian. And at that point, I was already a Sydcarmy soldier, of course, but when I picked up on the Austenticity of it all I FUCKING FLIPPED OUT because that gave me hope. It meant that the Sydcarmy endgame I had in mind could very well happen seeing as it was IC and Austenian, and it fit the slow burn process I had already picked up on right after watching Braciole, as I mentioned HERE. It all made total sense. How will it happen exactly, IDK, I wish I did but Storer is diabolical and way better than me at plot twists, so I won't even try to guess, but I will put my trust in the Austenian arc he swears by.

Me growing up reading Austen (real footage):

For those who haven't read Jane Austen, her trademark is: taking something painful and making it beautiful, finding beauty in pain, and always building towards a happy ending and redemption arc for her main characters, unless she kills them first and if she does, we can be sure that death will serve the happy ending purpose anyway (AKA: Michael, Syd's mother and probably Cicero, I wanna believe Donna will live, but I'm on the fence about her, I do believe she will be redeemed after Nat's baby is born, either way), she will take that death and make it worthwhile and beautiful. She doesn't stand for unhappy endings, but she does include bittersweetness in the endgame of some of her characters, usually not the A ones, but the B ones. The Alphas usually get a relatively "clean happy ending". Relatively being the operative word and what we can ALWAYS expect no matter what, is a "teaching", a lesson learned by the main characters. They walk out of that story as new men/women after having learned that/those lesson/s. She does this. She slow burns romances left and right, kills characters off, takes losses and turns them into gains, and builds towards a happy ending. That's an Austenian structure right there. It's usually used in Romance movies, rarely seen on this kinda TV shows, but here we are. The Storer-Calo duo are giving us Austenian characters in a nutshell.

So, back to my point, I always had this take and wishful thinking even, but up until now, I was never able to actually envision a final scene that could be actually canonical. I mean, I could even fucking write the whole script of that whole final ep, line by line, for every character if they allowed me to. I have the music in mind, the outfits, the whole set, and the final take that faiths to black and reads THE END. And no, this is not just a wishful thinking list or prediction post, it's an actual argumentative outline about why I think The Bear’s series finale will look like the Happy version of Fishes:

And just because Carmy said this, I will take a wild guess, this is gonna be part of the menu:

He associated them with his, and I quote: "fucked up family life" end of quote. So he wanted to reversion them:

And Marcus, based on Sydcarmy's pointers, came up with The Michael Cannoli:

I am also assuming, Sydcarmy will be endgame because of the aforementioned reasons, but I'm not sure Storer will actually show it on camera, maybe just insinuate it, because we all know he is diabolical and also because that's how the original movie script turned into TV script ended before Storer knew The Bear was going to be picked up for a 2° season, he always had this ending in mind for The Bear, behold:

So what I'm saying is: We Sydcarmy truthers have an actual shot here. I also dive into this theory HERE but from a totally different angle.

This happy Sydcarmy endgame we want is at arms' reach.

Now I see it more clearly.

Who's with me?

@ciaonicole85 thanks for the inspo to write this post, it all came to mind when I saw yours.

[totem-but-shark]

What other songs do you think were written about Fooligetta? And Foolish on his own?

my dear anon you have no clue how long i've been waiting for someone to ask about my self proclaimed fooligetta coded songs /j

the songs i associate with qfoolish mostly pull from his vibes and lore rather than angst, especially from his federation arc as that's been my favourite version of him we've seen so far. So higher energy, emphasis on chaos, hidden agendas

some of these include:

The Court Jester by thquib

GO! (feat. Karen O) by Santigold

What do they know? by Mindless Self Indulgence

Get Jinxed by Djerv

The villain I Appear to Be by Connor Spiotto & Molly Pease

and escolha errada for obvious reasons

I used to have a full fooligetta fluff playlist but unfortunately i recently deleted it reorganising my spotify, most of the music I associate with them nowadays is far more bittersweet anyway though still very much so with an element of the love they shared and continue to share even though apart

this includes:

Graveljaw by Pow Pow Family Band (though really all of this album)

Thoroughfare by Ethel Cain

Mine Forever by Lord Huron

Wish That You Were Here by Florence + the Machine

Petals on the Moon by Waisia Project

AND YOU DIDNT ASK but it would pain me if i didn't include my qvegetta coded songs, the number one of which has to be Which Witch by Florence + the Machine as it fits perfectly with my personal interpretation of him representing his turbulent relationship to partnership and past scars from previous lovers. It actually inspired a whole fooligetta fic im currently working on! I also have to include Never Let Me Go also by Florence +the Machine and good ol' reliable Never Love an Anchor by the Crane Wives, angstier stuff.

[hamliet]

am I the only one who thinks death as a redemption distasteful?

I mean, no, you’re definitely not the only one!

Honestly, the trope is oversaturated now. Everyone and their mother wants to have Darth Vader while ignoring the specific context that made Vader’s redemptive sacrifice work. I wrote about when redemptive death works in the linked meta above.

See, I tend to think the problem isn’t the trope itself, but instead treating the trope as an easy way out, or as a moral necessity when really it should serve the character, the plot, and the themes. The genre also matters. But... yeah, how it's used in 99% of stories nowadays is lame and distasteful. It's giving up, not pushing through. It's bad witing.

Like, writing a story where someone fucks up in every aspect, where they are evil, but in the end have one lone thing they love and sacrifice everything for that love—that’s beautiful. And I don’t think it’s a miserable ending either; bittersweet, but it’s hopeful. It talks about the humanity in each of us that can’t be snuffed out no matter how we try. 

I dunno, man, I have loved ones who are so beyond messed up. I want to believe there is hope for them even if it’s an eleventh hour “wait, I love this one person.” Will that redeem them to the world? No. But is it enough to comfort their loved ones? Maybe. It’s not an easy answer. That’s why redemption via death can work masterfully in a story. It can give life and hope. But it’s so often misused that I also get why people hate this trope now and kinda hate it myself lol.

In stories, actions have consequences. They’re symbols, and so are the characters. If you skirt consequences for a character that’s how you get Marty Stus and such. If death is an established reality in your world, then it’s logical some characters may die. Death is a fair consequence, but consequence does NOT mean punishment. It just means that if something happens in a story there should be a reason it happens, not just “for the sads” or “because they were bad and I want to punish readers who see themselves in them.” If a character has done certain things, and the rules of the world make it clear death is likely, that’s not inherently bad writing. 

But for a lot of the oversaturation of "redemptive death," it’s, frankly, cheap. Because it’s not used as a genuine way to end a characters arc with thematic weight or to honor them. It’s done to give the audience a “there there, we made you care so we won’t kill them off as a baddie but we don’t want to take responsibility for making a complex character and actually use them to add meaning to our story.” And that’s been most of the redemptive deaths post Vader, let’s be real. 

But on the other hand, death is a reality people have been grappling with in stories since the beginning of time. I’m serious; the oldest stories in the world are about humans trying to understand how to live in the face of death.  But death is the only thing that humans are all equal in. The only thing. I wrote about that here.

So when you have people who refuse to acknowledge death at all, and act like killing a character including in redemptive death is a moral statement that they deserved to die when it really isn’t—it’s just a different side of the same coin as the cheap “death redemption” people. Both view it as a moral thing or as an easy way of wrapping up their writing instead of letting it fester so that audiences can continue to think on it, to ponder it, to wonder what if.

Not all stories are designed to preach or teach morality, and even fewer good stories are designed to do that. (Which is not the same thing as saying good stories are inherently amoral, either.)

If a character redeems themselves via a sacrifice that costs their life, then their sacrifice needs to matter. It needs to be dealt with, to bring life or criticism, rather than being an easy hand wave away so that the story can just continue like it didn’t matter. I

Redemptive death itself is not the problem. The problem is bad writing of characters and themes and plots that leads to an oversaturation of a trope in a pale attempt to imitate a good story rather than actually write one.