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idiopath-fic-smile · 6 months

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more Singin' in the Rain ot3, now on the honeymoon boat

part one

part two

The ship was a grand one. Cosmo, whose nautical knowledge began and ended with that Douglas Fairbanks picture about pirates, could tell that much. There was a majestic dining room and a wide, clean promenade and state-of-the-art engines that would get them to Europe in just a few days. The dining room even featured a four-piece band, who were a little stiff but not half bad.

His room, his island of privacy away from Don and Kathy and their combined magnetic pull, was bigger than he expected, well-appointed. It went a little overboard embracing an Egyptian theme, although the decorators had tastefully stopped short of including an actual mummy in a giant stone sarcophagus. He was grateful for that. The piano, as promised, sat in the place of where a desk might normally be, keys gleaming invitingly.

There was just one problem.

“How,” said Cosmo, dropping onto the bed, “did you manage to accidentally book us two adjoining rooms?”

“I’m sorry,” said Don, crossing his arms. “There must’ve been a mix-up at the offices.”

“Maybe the travel agent heard wrong on the telephone,” said Kathy. She rubbed Don’s back consolingly. Don shot her a grateful look. It was all very sweet, probably.

“How?” said Cosmo again. “Nothing sounds like ‘adjoining.’ It doesn’t even have a rhyme.”

“Are you certain?” said Kathy.

Cosmo nodded; he’d already run through the alphabet, twice. “The closest I can get to is ‘disappointing.’” Don was leaning into Kathy’s back rub like a cat, but his face was full of uncatlike guilt. “Don,” said Cosmo, “look, pal, I appreciate the free ticket, but please tell me you’ll fix this.”

“I already talked to the cruise director and there aren’t other rooms,” said Don. “We’re out in the ocean, what do you want me to do, alert the coast guard?”

“Alert the coast guard,” said Cosmo, “flag down a passing mermaid, strike a bargain with Poseidon himself!”

“Who?” said Don.

“The Greek god of the sea,” said Kathy, like that was the important part.

“I don’t speak any Greek,” Don replied, “do you?”

“I will swim to shore,” Cosmo said, to nobody in particular.

“We can swap over to a different ship when we get to port if we need to,” said Don, shoulders slumping uncharacteristically. He must’ve felt worse about his screw-up than he let on. “In the meantime, the door locks from both sides, so—”

“I’m not—worried that you’ll barge in at all hours pestering me for a cup of sugar,” Cosmo broke in.

Don blinked. Kathy went very still beside him.

Out loud, it sounded more suggestive than he’d meant. Why had he picked sugar, the sauciest ingredient of the baking world?

“Or flour,” he amended.

“Then what’s the trouble?”

“I.” Cosmo sighed. “Why am I the only person in this room who seems to know what a honeymoon is for?”

“Why,” said Don, wide-eyed, “what’s it for?”

“D’you think, if I jumped in the sea and started paddling now—” said Cosmo.

“Don’t worry,” said Kathy. “Don and I can be very quiet.”

And the trouble was, this was worse. The prospect of hearing them from the other side of a single thin door was one thing, and honestly it was plenty bad—Cosmo had played a role during several key moments of their courtship but at least he could say he didn’t know what they sounded like in the throes of passion—but for reasons that Cosmo did not feel like examining, the thought of them stifling themselves in the act, the thought of them naked in bed together, touching each other, biting down on a giggle or a moan, and whispering, ‘Shh, don’t wake Cosmo,’ made him feel like his whole stomach was a sore tooth.

“Don’t put yourselves out on my account,” he told them. Belatedly, he realized that was maybe the worst thing he could’ve said. He blushed, and then he stood, face still flaming—Damn his Irish complexion—nodded to them both, and fled to the promenade.

The ocean stretched in all directions as far as Cosmo could see. It was dizzying, and also strangely calming. He stared out at the waves and reminded himself, hardly for the first time, that it wasn’t Don’s fault how Cosmo felt about him. It wasn’t Don’s fault, and it wasn’t Kathy’s fault that she was maybe the most charming woman he’d ever met. You could certainly blame Don for booking the rooms, for not double-checking over the telephone, but there was no malice to it. They were both, at the end of the day, wonderful people who had decided to open this trip up to him for whatever reason, and besides, his bed was piled with any number of pillows he could jam over his head if they did make noise at night.

He stood there holding onto the railing for a long time. Eventually, he heard footsteps behind him.

“Feeling better?” said Don quietly, almost lost under the roar of the water. Without really trying to, Cosmo turned to look at him. Under his coat, Don was wearing a nicer suit than before, and the color had returned to his face. He looked—well, he looked like a handsome movie star married to a gorgeous starlet. Don took a few steps and rested his hands next to Cosmo’s on the rail.

“It’s the salt air, I think,” said Cosmo, nodding. “Feels like I could do anything. Why, I might write another musical, wear my trousers baggy, become a pirate.”

“Your trousers are fine as is,” said Don.

Cosmo shrugged. “A little change can be good.”

“Sure, unless it isn’t.” Don sighed. It was an awfully sad sigh to be having about the fit of a guy’s pants, Cosmo thought, but then Don turned to him and added, “You know, we really have missed you.”

“Don,” said Cosmo patiently. “I was at your house this Thursday. I stayed for three hours. I drank all your gin.”

Don didn’t make a crack about the gin, which was probably a bad sign. “And before that?”

Before that, it had been a while. Cosmo winced inwardly. “I’ve been busy,” he said, “you’ve been busy, Kathy’s been busy—”

“We invited you over, four different times,” Don interjected. “If I’ve done something, if we’ve done something, I wish you would just tell us.”

In front of them, the sea rolled and rolled. Cosmo thought about deflection, about twisting the moment into a joke, a sword duel where cold steel met only an outstretched rubber chicken: squeak.

He let out a long breath. “Why the Hell did you bring me along on your honeymoon?”

“We brought you along because we wanted you along,” said Don. “Whenever you’re not there, we wish you were. It doesn’t need to be any harder than that.”

“So it isn’t…” Cosmo started.

“What?” “You and Kathy aren’t having problems? Hoping for a buffer, or a distraction?” It was a very new theory on Cosmo’s part, and once the words had left his mouth, he realized how badly they fit the facts at hand.

Don smiled a private little smile. “Me and Kathy are doing just marvelously.”

“That’s splendid,” said Cosmo, because he had to say something, apparently. Marvelous didn’t bode well for Cosmo’s sanity at night, but it beat his friends being sad. “Lovely.” He let his cadences drift into a so-so British accent. “Capital show, old sport. Tip-top. Simpy spiffing.” Not his best work.

Don lay a hand on Cosmo’s coat sleeve, at the elbow. “Do you want to come to dinner with us?” he said. “It’s meant to be a formal affair but you’ve still got time to change.”

Whenever you’re not here, we wish you were. Obviously, Don didn’t mean “whenever” in the strictest sense—Cosmo got the feeling he was not present in Don’s mind, say, when Don was in bed with his beautiful wife—but the thought now made him feel warmer than the gin had. It would be enough. It had to be.

“Sure,” said Cosmo, “why not,” and Don thumped him encouragingly on the back.

“Cosmo,” said Don as they headed back into the body of the boat, “piracy, really?” Cosmo grinned. “Don’t blame me, blame that salt air. Makes a man feel like anything’s possible.”

Kathy and Don looked enchanting at dinner, and Cosmo cleaned up alright too, if he didn’t say so himself.

The food was good—salmon with hollandaise sauce and French beans, braised duckling with apple sauce, some fancy beef thing, salad Dumas and ice cream for dessert—and the band had relaxed a smidge and was playing something from this century, which was nice.

Over dessert, Kathy told them about how, one night several months before meeting Don, she’d been at a speakeasy during what turned out to be a police raid.

“What were you doing in a speakeasy?” Cosmo asked before he could stop to think about it.

“Why, drinking milk and reading Austen, of course,” she replied, a picture of guilelessness. Don snickered, and she grinned.

“I walked full-speed into that one,” said Cosmo.

“Buddy, you ran,” said Don.

“I was drinking,” Kathy acknowledged, nodding, “but really that’s where the best dancing is. The best music, too.”

Cosmo, who lately only drank at parties or at home because it was easier and safer, nodded thoughtfully.

“Hot jazz?”

“The hottest, at least in Los Angeles. Once we’re back, we should all go!”

“I could always stand to take in more culture,” said Cosmo.

“Oh no,” said Don, “don’t let her pull you into her sordid past. Did you forget the end of the story is ‘and then the police came?’”

“That’s more the middle,” said Kathy. “Well, middle-end.”

“So how’d you escape the reaching arm of the law?” Cosmo asked.

Kathy swallowed her ice cream. “I saw the police were all rushing in through the front door, and I dashed to the back and through the performers’ dressing room. I’d done makeup for some of my school plays, so I fought my way up to the mirror, grabbed a grease pencil—a few lines here, a few lines there—borrowed an old coat of the back of a chair, ran maybe half a block, and pretended to be an old lady.”

“Really,” said Cosmo.

“It’s mostly in the walk and the posture,” she said. “And it helps that a few of the street lights were out.”

“And the cops were fooled?”

“One of them asked me if I’d seen any young people running that way,” said Kathy.

Cosmo clapped his hands together with glee. “Don, you married a criminal mastermind! Never make her angry.”

Don wrapped an arm around her shoulders and flashed her a besotted look. “I don’t intend to.”

Kathy nestled into the half-embrace. “Tell me more about—was it Coyoteville? With the ventriloquist.”

“Dead Man’s Fang,” said Cosmo. “And your wish is my command, but I don’t know what else there is to say. We came, we saw, we lost our sleeping arrangements to a puppet.”

“He tucked it in that night, remember?” said Don suddenly.

“He did!” said Cosmo, delighted.

Sometimes when Don started in on the official line about how they’d studied at the conservatory and the rest of that baloney, Cosmo worried that some part of Don believed it, that it was Cosmo’s job alone to remember how long they’d traveled that strange, bumpy, often farcical road together towards some measure of success and respectability in Hollywood. But Cosmo had completely forgotten that particular detail. He had burned it from his mind.

“After he fell asleep, one of you might have moved the dummy and claimed that bed,” Kathy pointed out.

“He left it with the head turned facing us, eyes open,” said Don. “Neither of us were touching that thing.”

“So instead, Cosmo had to put up with Don all night,” said Kathy solemnly.

“So instead, I had to put up with Don all night.”

He could still recall the potent mix of resignation, terror, and guilty excitement he’d felt, huddling up on that mattress together. Their act at the time had involved being in close quarters a lot—at one point, the choreography had Cosmo leap onto Don’s back and then immediately continue playing the fiddle—so it wasn’t like touching Don was a novelty, back then. But doing it offstage, out of costume, away from any onlookers except for Esther Quill the ventriloquist dummy, it had felt like an entirely different proposition.

Don had been a real champ about it, though. When Cosmo had started shaking with withheld hilarity that this was his life, the punchline of all punchlines and nobody to share it with, not just Don’s best friend but his literal bedwarmer, Don had clearly assumed it was a simple case of the shivers, and so he’d bundled Cosmo close, tucked Cosmo’s head under his chin, and wrapped his arms around him, muttering warm in his ear about how if Cosmo dropped dead, Don was out a dance partner “and that whole routine wouldn’t work as a solo number, it’d go over like a brick.”

“Just imagine what barnyard animal they’d have you opening for then,” Cosmo had whispered back, because Oatmeal, Nebraska had already happened to them. “A pig who juggles. A cow acrobat. A chicken magician. Just a little sleight of wing, folks, nothing up my feathers.”

And Don had laughed, and held Cosmo tighter, and the ventriloquist had shushed them, which had made them both crack up again. It had been a long night, and not one Cosmo would forget in a hurry.

“Who runs hot as a Holland furnace, let me tell you,” he added now, in case his tone had shifted a few shades too close to dreamy.

“Oh, I know,” said Kathy, smiling.

Don raised an accusing finger at him. “Well, you were shaking like a leaf! You’re lucky I was there, especially when we didn’t have so much as a sheet of our own!”

“Wait, why didn’t you have any blankets?” asked Kathy.

“The blankets,” said Don airily, “were for the puppet.”

And so dinner had been a joy, and after that, Don and Kathy invited him back to their room for a drink or two, because they’d had the common sense to bring alcohol, which was of course not offered by the cruise. The three of them sat on Don and Kathy’s bed (much bigger than Cosmo’s—not that he was jealous, he didn’t need the space, but the sheer expanse of mattress really did rival a small country, and Cosmo was determined not to picture in any detail how the two newlyweds might make use of that) and passed a flask around and had some more laughs and when Cosmo next got a glimpse of his watch, it was three in the morning.

“I should go,” he said.

“You don’t have to,” said Kathy. She’d shucked off her heels at some point and now her stocking feet were in Cosmo’s lap. Don sat on her other side, head on her shoulder. He’d loosened his tie early on, and his suitcoat was draped over one of the bedposts. While they were drinking, it had all felt very natural. Looking at them now, Cosmo had the sense he was intruding on something private, something intimate.

Granted, they weren’t exactly trying to kick him out, but Kathy was drunk, or tired, or else she was both drunk and tired, and it was up to Cosmo not to outstay his welcome. They had a whole two weeks together, after all, and their rooms were barely a wall apart.

“My regrets, Cinderella,” said Cosmo, “but I can feel myself turning back into a pumpkin.”

He made as if to stand, but her feet were in the way. Very gently, he picked up her ankles, lifted them off his legs, stood, turned her like they were doing some sort of a dance move, and deposited her feet in Don’s lap instead.

“There,” he said to no one.

A long pause followed. Don and Kathy blinked up at him. He sorely regretted moving her. It had seemed like the most elegant solution. Probably he should’ve found one that didn’t involve taking hold of her legs, skin warm through the thin layer of nylon–

Kathy’s brow furrowed. “What makes you the carriage?” she said at last.

“What?” said Cosmo, who really did need to make an exit.

“Cinderella,” said Don, apparently reading her mind, which was swell for them.

“Better that than the mouse footman,” Cosmo told her. “Or the lizard coachman. Or the horse.” Or—who else? There were a lot of characters in Cinderella, he realized.

“There’s a prince in that story, Cosmo,” said Kathy. “A human prince.”

“Yes,” said Cosmo, patiently, “and you’re married to him, your highness,” He sketched a little bow but Don and Kathy weren’t looking at him. They were having one of those silent couple conversations, with mostly their eyes and eyebrows. A career in movies before the advent of sound had probably given Don a real advantage in that department, Cosmo thought, although Kathy seemed to be holding her own.

“It’s a made-up fairytale,” Kathy said at last. “Why, it can go any way you want it to.”

“The lady’s got a point,” said Don.

Cosmo blinked. He knew how it sounded, knew that to the untrained ear, it certainly—there were overtones, or undertones, or just plain tones that vibrated with suggestion. Cosmo had grown up in Vaudeville and now he lived in Hollywood; these things happened every now and then. These things did not happen to Cosmo. He was good for a dance or a laugh, and nine times out of ten, that was enough for him, but he wasn’t exactly fending off amorous advances—not like Don, and probably not like Kathy, either.

Also, Don liked women. Don only liked women, as far as Cosmo knew, and they had lived out of each other’s pockets for years.

The fact that a late-night ménage à trois rendezvous was increasingly the only explanation that held water in his head—it said more about Cosmo’s fragile mental state than it did about Don and Kathy’s true motives, he decided.

Don and Kathy who were still sitting on the bed, waiting for some sort of response.

“I wouldn’t, uh,” Cosmo started, and then realized with a stab of panic that for once, he didn’t have a joke in the wings, waiting to go. “I wouldn’t know where to start,” he said.

“You said earlier today you might become a pirate,” Don offered. Kathy cuddled up close against his side, watching with bright, intent eyes. He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Enter pirate, stage left.”

“I said I was thinking about it,” said Cosmo, trying not to sound affected and missing by a mile. “A fella can think about all kinds of things he wouldn’t do.”

Case in point: Cosmo was not about to climb back into bed with them, no matter how cozy that bed was, no matter how warm and inviting and beautiful the two of them looked together.

His hands were starting to shake, he realized, and if Don saw that, and past experience was any judge, Cosmo might spend the night being cuddled for warmth again. What was Cosmo’s life? He didn’t go in for horoscopes, but maybe he should’ve, maybe that was the key to understanding the whole puzzle: Cosmo Brown, born under the one constellation that resembled clown shoes. He swallowed back a hysterical laugh and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Why not?” said Kathy quietly.

Because he didn’t want to ruin his oldest friendship and his most promising new one, all in a single go. Because he hated rejection, and the thought of two no’s that close together made his head spin unpleasantly. Because then there would be no more innocent touches and smiles and nightcaps in Don and Kathy’s room.

That wasn’t what she’d asked, though. Mentally, he shook himself.

“If everyone who thought about being a pirate became one, the whole US of A would fall apart,” Cosmo informed them. “Nobody would work, or pay taxes, or go to see films. Not to mention the national parrot shortage—just try to get ahold of birdseed anymore! There’d be a run on eyepatches and tri-corner hats, and the price of a simple pirate earring would shoot through the roof, in fact—”

“It’d cost a buccaneer,” Don filled in. He sounded almost sad, which was a mystery because that bit was evergreen.

“That’s right,” said Cosmo. He rocked back onto his heels, at a loss for a moment. He’d really been counting on that joke to clear the air.

“Cosmo,” said Kathy. “Do you want to go, or do you want to want to go?”

Cosmo struggled to make sense of that. He struggled to parse it in a way that worked outside his own feverish imagination. His entire mind came up short. That was where it got you, going on the road with only an eighth grade education, he thought. His was a cautionary tale.

Maybe ninth grade was where they taught you how not to twist a moment in your head to the point where it really did seem like maybe Cosmo could’ve kissed either of them, could’ve kissed both of them, and it would’ve been fine, or even more than fine. Maybe it was that, and Dickens, and Geography; Cosmo still could not locate Siam on a map. Or Paris. Come to think of it, ménage à trois and rendezvous were the only French he knew besides bonjour. This time, he did laugh. It was that or scream.

“I am both too drunk, and not drunk enough for this talk,” he said, turning for the door that led directly back to his room.

“If you’d rather stay—” said Don.

“Of course I’d rather stay, Don,” Cosmo snapped, sharper than he’d meant to. “But leave me enough dignity to fill half a shotglass, at least.” Don and Kathy said nothing. When he got to the door, he sighed. “Sorry, that was—I’m sorry. See you at breakfast.” “Goodnight,” said Kathy.

Alone in his room, Cosmo closed the door and ran his hands through his hair. Pirates in Cinderella, he thought. Offers to stay, with his room not 30 paces away, at three hours past midnight. Maybe it would all make sense in the morning.

#singin in the rain ot3

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three-blogs-in-a-trenchcoat · 2 months

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Okay but think of the comedic potential of the Leverage OT3 having been together for years by the time of Redemption, and at one point the others find out.

Breanna would be like "oh my god how did I not see that". Sophie would go "oh that explains a lot of things". (And yeah, it would also be on board for her to know, but one, it's been established that unconventional relationships are kind of a blind spot for her, and two, Parker is weird enough and Eliot's act is good enough that it would help throw her off the scent.)

(Harry wouldn't care much probably.)

And the possibilities of how it could happen. Like. Hardison is up in space, Eliot and Parker are doing something for a con, they see someone coming, Parker is like "quick, let's make out", and throws herself on Eliot. Eliot is like "no, not the lips", but he goes along with it, and then when they're in the clear, he's like "why do you always bite my lips? you didn't have to bite my lips", to which Parker replies "I was playing a character. Clara is a lip biter", and Eliot goes on an angry rant about the whole thing, but also the others overhear it, and Breanna checks in like "Eliot always says it? how often do you guys make out on cons?" and Parker goes "Eliot's not talking about the cons."

OR Parker is upset by something, and leaves the room, and Eliot goes after her, and when he doesn't resurface for a while Breanna goes after him, and they're kissing, and Eliot shouts at her to get out, but she's like "Okay. This is not cool. Eliot, you're super scary and I can see you're pissed at me right now, but I gotta call Hardison," and they're both like no, you don't have to do that, but he's already on call, and Breanna tells him everything. Eliot is facepalming and sighing the whole time. Parker is just like "what? they had to find out eventually." And then Breanna finishes, everyone is dead silent, waiting for his reaction, and Hardison is like "So y'all wasted my time with this? [five-minute rant about how busy he is]" Breanna is flabbergasted. "So Eliot makes out with your girlfriend and that's your reaction?" So Hardison just goes "Damn sis I better damn hope that when my girlfriend is upset our boyfriend would go and comfort him. Get yo act together." He hangs up, camera cuts to Breana, her face frozen while trying to process the information. Then she just goes "HOLY SH-" [commercial break]

#leverage #leverage redemption #alec hardison #parker #eliot spencer #leverage ot3

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frownyalfred · 1 month

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I'm sure you didn't mean it that way, but the Bruce being there for Lois' when she's giving birth (and Clark too) gives me such OT3 vibes. I am obsessed tbh. If Bruce is already being in a relationship with them and putting aside his fear and excitement to be there for Lois, and then when he holds the baby, a baby he'll get to help raise and grows? He totally cries.

Or maybe they get together after Jon is born, because Lois and Clark are staying with him at the manor so they can help out with the baby, with plenty of room for Martha too since she's too old to sleep on Clark's shitty pullout sofa bed. Bruce has been Clark's best friend for years, but suddenly he becomes Lois' best friend too. And when they leave the manor, and return home, Lois and Clark find themselves missing Bruce. His presence, his dry sense of humor (and his ability to soothe any baby- Lois swears it's his superpower, Clark says it's because Bruce has such a similar vocabulary, with all his grunts and huffs, babies assume he's one of them), his unwavering companionship.

So one night, over glass of wine for Lois and a sparking grape juice for Clark, they confess to missing Bruce. To wanting more, even as they promise they won't/didn't betray other... only they both realize they want the same thing.

Sorry, I just think this would be so sweet and perfect. I just love SuperBatLane ♡♡♡

I’m starting to think that maybe there’s something in the male Wayne bloodline that makes them such rabid polycule bait. Like their particular brand of crazy can only be handled by multiple people (Martha and Alfred for Thomas, Lois and Clark for Bruce, etc etc)

#asks #anon #bruce wayne #batman #dc #superbat #clark kent #clois #superbatlane #Lois lane #Thomas wayne #Martha wayne #alfred pennyworth

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winterxisxcomingx · 2 months

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How do you think Lucifer would react to the Charlie/Vaggie/Emily OT3?

(We really need to find a name for this ship)

Excellent question!

"Wasn't Vaggie your girlfriend? Last time I checked?" "Yes, she still is." "So what about the new on? En-Ed-Em-" "Emily." "Yes! Emily girl?" "She's also my girlfriend." "So... both? At once?" "Yes, dad." "Oh, well. Ahahahaha, as long as they're making you happy, sweetheart."

Overall - really confused. You can imagine how many stages of 'worried dad' he ran, before he figured out what's going on.

He firstly thought that his daughter did similar deed like him (as he helped Eve). Or maybe this plus this new girl was just... mistress? Sort of?

Either way he wouldn't care, but just,, was really confused

still isn't sure how it works, but Lucifer knows how much love is inside his daughter, so he's sure that she have enough for more than one person

he's only worried that her partners will hurt her one day (*angry dad mode*) or stupid Heaven with their stupid taboos. Because demons wouldn't dare. But Heaven? He can't control them.

Let me tell you tho, that he accepts them both immediately. I mean, they are both angels (like him) and they were good God's children until they learnt the hard truth about Heaven. He understands them. And he can understand their love for his daughter.

As he tried had his "father-daughter time' with Charlie, he also tried to do this with Vaggie & Emily.

Did it work? Eh... But they tried!

(Both girls got wooden ducks as a sorry)

Charlie is so glad that her dad accepts her girlfriends and her love life and new family.

Now, she only waits for her mother... She's scared, yes, but... at least she’s not alone now, right?

#two and a half halos #charlie's angels #charlies angels #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanons #charlie morningstar #vaggie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel emily #emily x charlie x vaggie #vaggie x charlie x emily #chaggily #royalhalo #chaggie #emily x vaggie #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer

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hanafubukki · 4 months

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My favorite headcanon for Meleanor from OT3: when the council tries her patience too much, she throws them a dinner party where all the food is prepared by Lilia. You can't leave the table before you've eaten everything + dessert. The only excuse for your absence is death. Particularly distinguished individuals get second servings. Naturally, Meleanor herself does not eat anything and enjoys the spectacle. (Yuu just sits in her corner and sips water, thanking the gods that she doesn't have to eat her husband's cooking)

[Masterlist]

Hello Anonie 🌺🌻🌷

I love how we all chose to make the senate suffer before and now with the reveal of chapter 6, we have upped the torture a bit and I am here for it!

With the reveal of all the hell that Lilia went through, Meleanor is going to make sure they all suffer. No one can hurt him, only she gets that privilege. 😂😂

So why not let Lilia have some fun and also get some revenge?

It is a rule to never let Lilia Vanrouge into the castle’s kitchen. At one point in time, it was an unsaid rule, but then it became a law.

With only a few exceptions, and this was one of them.

Queen Meleanor was holding a special party for her council. They had got on her nerves one to many times recently and she needed a way to enjoy their suffering without the usual flair.

After all, fire and thunder can get boring at times and her victims would get used to it as well. So a new method was hatched, let them suffer slowly during a mandatory dinner.

You would usually feel bad for anyone that had to partake in Lilia’s cooking, especially when he had a certain glint in his eye. But this time? You didn’t really care.

In fact, you relished in it. Let them suffer, if they wanted to act like idiots, they had to face the consequences.

Plus, your husband deserves the revenge after being under their thumb for so long.

So you sipped from your glass a special drink that Queen Meleanor gave you and watched from afar, enjoying the show.

Too bad the senate made of spirits couldn’t eat, but Dawn had them handled. Last you checked, his magic was making a special cage encasing each of them. You can only imagine what they would do after he was fully done with them all. You had a feeling the family might play volleyball with them.

You smiled and sipped your drink.

Yes, this was the life.

Those who needed to be punished was getting their comeuppance.

Your loved ones are alive, well, and happy.

You couldn’t ask for more.

Suffer Council suffer 🔥🔥🔥

Well, not all of them are bad, but you know the ones who need to are going through it 😈

You think Peter is crying somewhere because of the bill? I think he’s all for them getting their just rewards too since the council are a pain in his butt.

#answered #anonie ask #twst knight of dawn x reader x lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge #twst knight of dawn #meleanor draconia #twst knight of dawn x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #the knight of dawn #knight of Dawn #x reader

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lunar-years · 11 months

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Okay. Let's talk Jamie and Roy getting beers and being idiots.

I know we are all still processing that whirlwind of a finale. I'm understanding that a lot of people hate the Roy & Jamie scene because it is 1) backslide-y (true) 2) they treat Keeley like a prize to be won (true) and 3) it's OOC (I actually disagree with this one, but I can understand why it's complicated). I want to start off by saying I completely see where this opinion is coming from and I respect everyone who just hates the scene because it shows normally kind characters being very unkind to each other etc. This is less me arguing against that as it is me trying to articulate (at great length, sorry) why it not only worked for me, but I genuinely liked it.

I like to think I strike a balance between loving everything the show has done and hating overwhelmingly on a show I claim to enjoy, but sure, you could definitely argue that I'm just giving my favorite characters the benefit of the doubt, or making excuses for them, because they're my favorite characters. I'll admit I'm historically very forgiving of all the main characters' many fuck-ups on Ted Lasso, but that's because I think the show works best when it emphasizes how kindness, forgiveness, friendship and love can still operate between imperfect, flawed people. I like seeing them make realistic mistakes much more than I like everyone handling everything perfectly, I'll bite.

So, back to Jamie and Roy. I enjoyed their finale plot because despite them making a world of mistakes, the regression felt very, very human. I don't agree at all with the take that this somehow erased all the progress they've made this season or the friendship the show has lovingly crafted between them. In fact, I think this actively reiterated it! (Note: I am operating with my ot3 goggles on at all times, so I'm going to write this with that at least partially in mind, but I think the gist of it works even if you ignore the bits that get a little shippy.)

For both Jamie and Roy, Keeley and their love for her is a major beacon guiding them. I think that is the crisp, clear thing in both of their heads this episode: Keeley is the love of my life. And they both believe that wholeheartedly, and they both want to be with her. (and it's goofy to pretend this came out of nowhere for Jamie/since when is Jamie still in love with her/etc. because he literally told her and us this last season and nothing that has happened since has indicated otherwise, btw.) But there's also something else now, which is their relationship with each other, battling with their Keeley thoughts. It's like, in Roy's head, for instance, I imagine there are two wolves: on the one hand he loves Keeley, and wants to be with her, and plans to win back her heart. On the other hand, there's his love and care for Jamie Tartt, which is much less defined and inarticulate and maybe still a little repressed, but just as overpowering. His love for Keeley feels so simple and clear in comparison, while his love for Jamie is something complicated and unsure, and in this episode, he's leaning hard into the first to avoid unpacking the second.

So Roy starts off strong. He sees Jamie with Keeley in the hallway and he doesn't flip out!! Instead, he approaches Jamie calmly, and invites him out for beers. Think about how different this is from his reaction to Jamie's love confession to Keeley in season 2. This is Roy's growth in action, and it's a resounding sign of just how important Jamie is to Roy now. Even when he is feeling jealous of the woman he loves potentially leaving him behind for a man he loves (a completely natural reaction, let's be so real, if not a "good" one), he also knows that for as much as he wants to be with Keeley, he doesn't want to lose his friendship with Jamie.

As for Jamie, I know some people took his reaction and subsequent response to Nate's question as like, shock at the realization that he and Roy are actually friends now, which I agree is something that had to have come earlier in the timeline (what was Mom City if not that) and would seem very out of place at this point. What I saw it as instead was Jamie's brain more just. sort of short-circuiting? Because: holy shit isn't this the best day ever? First Keeley agreed to go to Brazil with me and now Roy is asking me on a date for beers? this is so sound. This invite is out of place behavior from Roy even within the parameters of their friendship, because they still have a match to win and Roy has banned Jamie from beers as part of his training and despite them being close now I find it hard to believe that Roy often comes up to him right there in dressing room to ask him to grab a beer with no pretense.

Therefore, they're already walking into that bar in completely different head-spaces. Jamie isn't planning to discuss Keeley, and for Roy that is his major intention behind the evening. Jamie is nervous and downing his beer, and Roy is internally panicking, I'm imagining, over when and how to bring Keeley up. I think Roy is thinking: Well, I don't intend to stop pursuing Keeley, I genuinely don't want Jamie's feelings to be hurt when I get back together with her (and yes, it is a huge presumption for him to assume Keeley's going to eventually take him back. But I think it's also an understandable one), so I've got to tell Jamie I care about him, and that I'm going to keep going after Keeley, and he needs to be okay with that so that this won't get in the way of our friendship, which I also desperately need and am unwilling to give up. In his mind, Jamie is of course going to accept all of this, because Roy and Keeley are soulmates, which Jamie will clearly recognize deep down because it is so obvious and right and anyway, Jamie always does what Roy tells him to do (again, this is all misguided thinking. But we can see how Roy's anxious little brain that's bad at processing feelings and holding space for emotions could get himself here, can't we?).

So again, we start off strong with Roy saying he's proud of Jamie and them both thanking one another. But then Roy's blurting out nonsense about how Jamie just needs to pull himself out of the running and just let Roy be with Keeley. Which is obviously not on. And Jamie responds, simply, with No. I'd argue this is also a huge step for Jamie. Jamie really doesn't tell Roy no anymore, he doesn't tell anyone no. Jamie has spent so much of his time since coming back to Richmond working to be the person everyone around him wants and expects him to be. This is him fighting for something he wants for once, doing what is best for him. It was a fabulous progression to see. In the moment, boy does it work Roy up, because why is Jamie not agreeing with me, Jamie always agrees with me? but obviously at this point, Jamie is in the right. His relationship with Keeley was no less meaningful than Roy's just because Roy says it was, Roy doesn't have any claim on her, and there's no real reason Jamie should not try and shoot his shot with Keeley if Roy is going to do the same.

Here's where things start to spiral. Established flaws we know about Roy: he's competitive. He's bad at voicing his feelings productively. And he is territorial about the people he loves, a category that safely includes both Jamie and Keeley at this point in time, for better and sometimes worse. Yes, his next actions are grossly possessive over Keeley, yes Roy has made a lot of effort over the past year to do and be better than that, to break free of that cycle. But look, it's not a linear process. He's going to still mess up, and he does here. In fact he's downright mean, weaponizing Keeley against Jamie and throwing having sex with Keeley a month ago into Jamie's face, bragging about it, boasting. Same old cycle, same old patterns of ego-driven, prideful mistakes.

Which promptly prompts Jamie to also fuck up by bringing up the leak. It's a concentrated response intended to get a suitable rise out of Roy, because Roy has really, genuinely hurt him here, and Jamie knows bringing up that video is the one thing that will hurt Roy just as much in turn. It's not the right thing to do, obviously, but again, it's such a human thing to do. Hurt the person who's hurt you right back, even if you're hurting someone else (Keeley) by extension. Mind you, Jamie came here expecting a hangout (/date) with Roy over a rare beer, and instead he got Roy being a complete asshole and lecturing nonsense at him out of seemingly nowhere. He reacts to this change-up, well, not greatly. There is something so messy and emotionally complicated happening here and it hinges on how very much Jamie and Roy care about each other, not negates it.

Keeley, queen that she is, rejects them both out of hand and kicks them out not the curb immediately because they're both being complete idiots, acting like they're so gracious in giving her the honor and privilege of choosing between them. Not to mention they've clearly got something going on between them they haven't worked through and that sure as shit isn't her problem, is it? Keeley (presumably, and I wish we had seen this) calls them out their shit and tosses them right back out the door.

Which leaves Jamie and Roy to lament how they've let their egos get away from them, they've been idiots (which they acknowledge immediately) and decide that now they should go for kebabs, presumably to actually hangout this time, not to interrupt themselves with inflated talk about who "deserves" Keeley more. They both screwed up, they acknowledge it, and all they can do is try again tomorrow, and in the meantime, go on that kebab date.

I guess....I can just see where both of them are coming from? it's not mature behavior, obviously, it's maybe not what we would have liked to have seen from them in the finale episode of the show. But it was regression that I didn't feel impeded their overall progress. Roy in particular was being a complete dick about it, but that's why the very next morning he's finally knocking on the Diamond Dogs' door. And honestly, that conversation was heartbreaking. When Roy admitted he'd expected, after a year of putting in the work, to be a whole new person...god. This is a man who still completely hates himself, to the point where he can't quite grasp that he can be better where he's at now, that he doesn't have to transform magically into someone new in order to do right by himself and others. And so he has to consciously determine, once again, to do better, be better.

The message is: change isn't linear, you're going to fuck-up, and fall back into old patterns. What matters is trying every day to do better together, and be better for one another, than you were the day before. That is the meeting point all three sides of the royjamiekeeley triangle were heading towards by the end of the episode.

So yes, it was rushed, because no one gets much screen time in a finale (and the overarching issue with this season anyway is god awful pacing. The last three episodes could've easily been the second half of the season, while the first half of the season was stretched out and largely extraneous). And yes, I would've liked a more thoughtful follow-up conversation between Roy and Keeley or all three of them. My biggest issue was that we didn't get to hear Keeley's voice hardly at all. I would at the very least have liked to have seen her setting them straight at her kitchen table, because turning both of them down signifies very important growth in her, too, and I would've liked exploring that more explicitly. So it wasn't perfect. But I still liked it, I really did.

#ted lasso #ted lasso meta #ted lasso spoilers #roy kent #jamie tartt #royjamie #royjamiekeeley

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hungerofhadarr · 4 months

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After screenshotting my original 1:27 am rant just for safekeeping and returning to this line of thought, I think I would like to swing this bat at a hornets nest . And I shall call it ;

BG3 And Polyamory, AKA The Discourse From The Eyes Of The Polyamorous

Hi, I am now disclosing the polyamorous part of my queer identity to the internet. Yay! Remember, I am only one polyamorous person on this website and I am not the spokesperson. This is just my own opinion and my own feelings with how both the game and the fandom seem to be handling the inclusion of polyamorous relationships and characters.

And in my humble opinion: Yikes !

This should be no surprise, but the polyamorous rep in bg3 isn’t … really good . It’s there, sure, and maybe I’m the fool for expecting it to be good when it really is the first time I have ever really heard of a game having an actual polyamorous option. Like on purpose. But with how much bg3 was hyped up as being super inclusive and completely different from all other games in the genre, I had hoped that it would take a good approach to polyamorous people and relationships.

Suffice to say, it fell flat once I actually looked into it.

The companions listed as open for an open/poly relationship are Astarion, Shadowheart, Minthara, and Halsin . What’s wrong with that?

3/4 of these characters already feel like they lean into the conservative fear of polyamory . Three of them are the ‘ evil ‘ members of your party . While ( besides Halsin, but we’ll get to that ) the rest of the ‘ good ‘ character are all monogamous. Growing up in a conservative home, in a conservative province, discussions of the idea of polyamory always came back to the same argument. That only the strange and amoral would do it. Only people who can’t be trusted and don’t actually care about you want to be in a polygamous relationship. And sadly, that is what I see echoed in the choices of who is and isn’t polyamorous.

I romanced Wyll in my first playthru. I had always planned to romance Wyll, actually, since I first saw his design when I first learned of bg3 during its early access days. When I met Halsin next, and chose the options to flirt with him, I thought that a polyamorous relationship between my Tav, Wyll, and Halsin would be cute. I had hoped it would work. I had already seen plenty of Astarion and Halsin and Tav art and gifsets and every other piece of fan content floating around . I had hoped that maybe that bit I read about who is and isn’t open for polyamory was outdated, and I could have this relationship play out in my little playthru .

Of course, it came down to having to choose. And I shrugged it off, at first. Sure, Larian didn’t make Wyll polyamorous for whatever reason. It is the first game that has polyamorous options, and I can just continue the game but have that polyamorous relationship in my head as my canon for my character. That’s fine, that’s what I’ve done before. It can’t be different now, right?

But then, I looked online, opened Tumblr, wondering what other people would say. Not thinking that it would be a big debate about if it is or is not okay to pair certain characters in an ot3 or not.

Wyll can’t be polyamorous, because knightly tales of courting and the mere act of courting is strictly monogamous. Pairing him in an polyamorous relationship is fundamentally misunderstanding the character and you’ve missed the point of him if you do that. It’s wrong to want that, wrong to think about it. The game has polyamorous options, be happy with what you have.

And so, I felt guilty. Larian already set up this dichotomy between their good leaning characters having the normal and good monogamous relationship and the evil leaning characters having the strange and perverse polyamorous relationship. But then, to see that the mere act of pairing your own character with two characters because you think it’s cute, is now being looked down upon so heavily and being seen as a “ fundamental misunderstanding of the characters “. And to have those ideas an opinions suddenly become the most agreed and accepted stance on the topic? How was I supposed to feel anything other than shame. Like I had been enjoying the game wrong, in a backward way.

If Wyll was polyamorous, you do know his approach to love wouldn’t change, right? Same with Gale. Same with Karlach. Same with Lae’zel. None of them would suddenly have to have completely different approaches to love and how they want to show it and how they want to go about it. Wyll can still be replicating the courting, the dancing, the slow burn that he always heard about in bards tales and he could still be polyamorous. There’s this idea that polyamorous love is only able to be expressed in very specific, very narrow ways. That miss the point of what love is.

People don’t act like this with the polyamorous companions, I’ve noticed. You aren’t suddenly bad and misunderstanding the story of Astarion or Shadowheart or Minthara or Halsin for having a strict two person relationship with them, and not expanding into the idea of those characters taking on another partner at some point. If you have Astarion in a strict monogamous relationship, no one says anything. But saying that you have a Tav who’s dating both Karlach and Gale? People are going to talk about you. They’re going to make vague posts. They’re going to talk about how it is Impossible for those characters to Ever be comfortable in a polyamorous relationship and how it is Wrong to protray them as happy in one.

I didn’t think people forgot that the stereotype of monogamy = good and polyamory = bad is still alive and well, but it seems that when it comes to the funny dungeons and dragons video game, it’s okay to prop that stereotype up and get mad when that is possibly challenged.

Now, what about Halsin? He’s a strictly good companion. He cannot fall under the pervious argument, so is he an exception?

No. It’s worse.

Halsin being polyamorous stems in racism. Wood Elves are all described as being polyamorous, and that they do not understand jealousy. And that they do not ever settle with any of their partners. And that the relationships they have are seen as “ doomed to fail “ . This is a stereotype. Commonly associated with indigenous people. That we cannot hold a ‘ proper ‘ relationship and that we always sleep around . We didn’t fit the white model of what a (white) family and a (white) relationship should look like, so the stereotypes and misconceptions started. And, unsurprisingly, ended up as another bit of dnd racism and bioessentialism.

Halsin doesn’t uphold the pervious argument at all, but he shows another part of the discussion that I don’ t think anyone really thought of. The racism stereotypes didn’t vanish when Larian made BG3, they’re all still there. You still have good races and evil races. You still have all the dnd bioessentialism that everyone was so keen to say was gone or just pretended it wasn’t there anymore.

And Halsin is an example of those stereotypes that people are still feeding. So much content with him in it narrows him down to ‘ Big Elf that Fucks and is Horny ‘ or ‘ Big Elf that can be Sexualized no matter What he Does ‘ and it is because Larian didn’t remove the stereotypes in the first place , and fandom doesn’t care enough to take a step back for a second to realize they’re playing into them.

Am I saying you shouldn’t have an ingame polycule with the characters available? No. If it’s cute, and you like it , and it makes sense with the story you’re making for your character, and literally just because you can, go for it! But for the love of god, can we be a bit more careful with how we treat the concept of polyamorous relationships and how we talk about them? Polyamory isn’t just a fandom thing with your ot3s, it’s a real life thing. And we can see how you treat people just having fun with their characters. You understand that, once you get that torn up over the act of making three characters hold hands, it becomes a little bit hard to forget that that is the attitude you hold towards the concept of polyamory when it doesn’t fit the molds you’ve subscribed to.

#bg3 #bg3 critical #👍 I decided it was for the better that I rewrite this whole thing #because I was mean in the original draft #if I see any shipping discourse on this post it is over for me #long post

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leverage-ot3 · 2 months

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Is leverage redemption worth watching? I love Leverage but idk if i could enjoy the show if hardison isn't in most episodes or if the reboot sells out in some way.

okay so I showed up to this ask like four months late with a smoothie so I'm sorry about that BUT

does redemption have it's flaws? yes, I will be the first to admit that!

however, as someone who deeply loves leverage, the characters and what the show stands for, I still can find myself enjoying redemption.

there's one post that's in my drafts talking about the differences between the og and redemption and the so-called universe physics (how logic works in both shows and how they are the same/differ) and there are definitely some differences. there are some really good posts comparing them in the tags and I'll try to tag them as watch redemption when they come up!

I'm going to be really honest right now and say that (no shade) I feel like redemption s1-2 were lacking because john rogers was not a main writer for them. devlin and the others are great and know their stuff, but redemption was missing some of the grit (balanced with everything else) that the original run had. redemption is more fun and lighthearted (where the og was still fun and had comedic elements but also had a more jaded perspective). I think part of that change is the absence of nate as a character and what he brought to the table, but the other part of that is very much the way the show is written overall

I have seen some criticism about parker being a caricature of what she was in the original run (ex: how she goes to a child's psychologist and uses puppets sometimes, is overtly weird, more loud about stuff, etc) BUT I will say that I think there's some nuance to that

I don't think the child psychiatrist thing is infantalizing- some methods of therapy work for people more than others and that is me speaking as someone who works in mental health. if play therapy and stuff like that work for you as an adult, good for you! whatever works for you is more than enough the overtly and loudly being weird thing I really do think can be taken either way. in the original run part of parker's character progression was that she was learning how to interact with people normally (or at least more efficiently), but her being more out about that now can be taken as she is more comfortable in her skin and acting like she wants because she is surrounded by people who love and support her. maybe she doesn't want to (or have to!) mask all the time and I don't see a problem with that

HOWEVER! there are certain criticisms that are related to her characterizations and overlaps with her autism and I don't want to speak over the autism community about those aspects and how they have manifested in her character in redemption so I'm leaving it there

as for the hardison being absent aspect- I was REALLY afraid of that at first BUT the loss isn't so deeply impactful when you have characters like breanna and harry added to the mix. I went in ambivalent about harry and excited to have breanna (a canon queer) joining the team, but I have come to love and cherish both of them dearly and wouldn't want to replace them or lose them as characters in this found family ensemble. I think the writers handled aldis' packed schedule really well and even though he isn't there in most episodes, his presence is still very much around. parker and eliot talk about him and reference him when he's gone. so do sophie and breanna, even harry. he isn't on the screen but the relationships he's formed with the other characters and the impact he's had on them is very evident.

there are some takes from users about whether or not the ot3 was queerbait, un-canoned, etc in redemption. I have a lot of thoughts about it and a lot of them are incomprehensible but what I can say is that I have renewed hopes for the progression and canon development of their relationship now that john rogers is back as the main writer for s3

#leverage #leverage redemption #eliot spencer #parker #alec hardison #leverage ot3 #parker x hardison x eliot #leverage redemption s3 #breanna casey #harry wilson #character appreciation #watch leverage #watch redemption #jackie talks #mine #asks #answered asks #open-source-anarch3y #i tried to write the best i could but i have a bad cold and I am technically working rn so this was the best i could do :/

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connorsbonez · 4 months

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Stalkers and Cryptids

Timeline: Pre-OT4, Middle of OT3

About: Tim and Wes have a conversation about fucking up and how to proceed afterwards.

Court Talk

Tim watched as Wes turned the basketball in his hands with a contemplative expression on his freckled face out of the corner of his eye. The ginger hadn’t said anything since he dragged Tim out to a basketball court, leaving them in prolonged silence, and the vigilante could only imagine what possessed Wes to bring him out here.

He wondered distantly whether or not he could come up with a good reason to leave early without guilt so he could go back to the cold case he’d been working on.

Tim just wanted to be able to drown everything out, ignore his personal problems, and hyper focus on cases so he could actually help someo-

He grunted as something slammed into his stomach, instinctually grabbing it before it registered to him what it was. Tim glanced down at the basketball in confusion before looking up at an unamused Wes with knitted brows.

Wes scoffed softly, his head rolled back slightly as well as his eyes at the motion before he met Tim’s gaze again. “You were making that face again.”

“What face?”

“That really dumb one when you’re slowly slipping into self-depreciation from overthinking.”

Tim frowned. “I don’t make that face.” Who was he kidding, he probably did.

The ginger raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, instead gesturing a hand over at the hoop. “Think you can make that shot?”

He pursed his lips, a feeling of frustration sparking in his chest, “What are you doing?” He asked, his grip on the basketball tightening. “Why are we here?”

Why are you still choosing to be around me? To have me in your life still?

“To rewrite the Declaration of Independence in a backwards Dutch-Ghostspeak love language.” Wes replied voice laced so heavily with sarcasm that Tim could practically taste it, crossing his arms as he leaned back on his heels. “We’re here to hang out, play basketball and I kick your ass at it, and I don’t know…” The conspiracy theorist paused, trailing off, the frown on his face softening as he looked down with a grimace at the ground for a brief moment. “…talk, I guess.” He ended the sentence awkwardly.

This is the weirdest breakup he’s ever experienced. Tim couldn’t help but think and he says as much, earning himself an incredulous look from Wes that quickly morphed into a familiar expression of ‘you’re such a fucking idiot’ and Tim used to think it wasn’t possible to have that look and have it still manage to look so fond (so painfully fond), but still very much annoyed, until the very first time he saw Wes make that expression at Danny and later Tim himself.

“Why the hell would you think that?”

Because I messed up, because my mistake got him hurt which in turn hurt you, because I’m a stupid horrible person who couldn’t not be nosy for one fucking moment and doesn’t deserve this and shouldn’t have had pretended I did.

“I think you know.” He answered vaguely, glancing away.

Wes’ eyes narrowed slightly, green eyes seemed to soften into a sort of understanding, an understanding much deeper than just getting what Tim meant and he couldn’t begin to imagine what Wes got. The ginger sighed and opened his arms, obligating the vigilante to bounce the basketball into his hands. Wes twisted the ball in his grip for a moment before he started bouncing it idly as he turned to face the hoop, Tim followed his gaze briefly before settling back at the theorist.

“I almost exposed Danny’s identity to a government branch that wanted to vivisect him and use him for experiments.” Wes confessed almost with an eerie casualness if not for the breathless way he said it, like he had to force the words out or else they’d never be heard, as he made the shot, the ball traced the rim before falling through the hoop, the bouncing was almost louder than it should have been as Tim stood in stiffened silence, trying to process what Wes just said.

Not that Wes gave him the time, continuing to plow through this conversation as he walked over to grab the ball, it seemed to shake in his hold as he stared down at it. “I’ve never been good at keeping secrets in the sense that I couldn’t leave things to lay, I didn’t understand that some things shouldn’t be brought to light. Ever. When I saw a mystery, I wanted to solve it and show it off to everyone and their mothers.”

Wes let out a huff that sounded close to a dull laugh. “Danny had a mystery that I had solved ages ago, it was pretty obvious for me, the problem was that no one seemed to see it too or believed me when I tried to tell them. Of course, I couldn’t leave it as that. I just had to get people to believe me and See The Truth.” His nose scrunched up at the end of his words and Tim thought that Wes’ green eyes seemed to glow for a moment under the setting sun.

“I did so many stupid things to try and prove it, things that Danny will probably happily tell you because some of them are downright mortifying. Like intensive stalking and publicly accusing him of being a ghost with his ghost hunting parents not two feet away from him.” The conspiracy theorist paused, taking in a breath as he bounced the ball a few times as if to comfort or ground himself. “The GIW hadn’t seemed so bad back then, for the humans at least, for those who didn’t know what they were really like and that unfortunately included me for a bit. And I was desperate at this point for anyone to believe me, so desperate that I fucking emailed the GIW about how I knew Phantom’s identity with some of my proof attached to make them believe me.”

Tim’s mouth was slightly hanging from that. “You what?”

Wes grimaced as he bounced the ball more harshly. “Yep. If Danny hadn’t broken into my house when he did to explain, it…would have ended much differently.” He finished his sentence after a moments of hesitation, turning again to throw the ball through the hoop again and going to retrieve it. Leaving Tim to process what he just learned.

Eventually Tim found Wes standing in front of him again, he looked at the ginger and licked his dry lips. “How’d you fix it?” He asked, his voice coming out more quiet than he wanted too. “How…did you get Danny to forgive you for that? He must have been angry with you.”

Wes blinked slowly, leaning back on his heels in a casual manner. “Oh. He didn’t.”

“What?”

“He didn’t forgive me.” Wes said slowly, like he was talking about the weather, as he leaned forward slightly and met Tim’s eyes again.

Tim stared back into green eyes as his body felt chilled, as if someone dumped a bucket of ice water onto him. An ugly bubbling feel squirmed inside him and made him ponder distantly if he was going to throw up or not. “But..you’re dating. You’re together.” He pointed out with a frown, confused on how Danny could date Wes if he didn’t forgive him.

The ginger sighs like he was an old man who just got told his dumbass grandkids were out doing something stupid and he needed to go get them. Wes let the ball hit the ground and roll off slowly as he crossed his arms. “Yeah. We are.”

“But..he doesn’t forgive you.”

“Uh huh.” Wes sighed again and scratched the back of his neck. “Look, here’s the thing Tim, no one’s obligated to forgive someone when they fuck up, majorly or not. It’s purely up to that person. But just because they don’t forgive that person, that doesn’t mean they can’t move on and grow from the experience, and maybe that results in those people losing contact or maybe they get close again as friends, family or lovers. It just..depends on the situation and the people.”

Wes paused to take a breath. “That’s not to, like, say there isn’t work both people have to put into healing that relationship, because there is. It’s so much work to repair that broken trust and mend the foundation so it can grow into something new.”

“Something new?”

“Well, yeah, there’s no fucking way that relationship is going to be exactly the same if it gets fixed.”

Tim swallowed thickly, uncomfortable and a little scared to ask his next question. “So..Danny’s never going to forgive me but with work he’ll hopefully still want to be with me?”

“I don’t know.” Wes replied with a simple shrug, making Tim blink widely in confusion. “What? What do you mean you don’t know?”

“It means, I don’t know whether or not Danny’s gonna forgive you and still want to be in a relationship with you. I’m not Danny, I don’t always know what’s going on in that cracked kaleidoscope mind of his.” Wes explained a bit too fondly as he poked at his temple. “But, if you ask for my personal opinion, you and Danny will be just fine. I mean, he’s dating me, on good terms with multiple of his rouge gallery, and is friends with two of his exes that have either successfully killed him or have tried too.”

That was so much information at once, holy hell. “What-“

“Plus, not to sound egotistical or anything, but what I did was arguably worse compared to what you did. You did it out of a source of concern and love, I did it for the ego boost.”

“Wes-“

“What I’m trying to say is,” Wes carried on, clasping his hands together, “there’s nothing to worry about as long as you guys do some simple little thing.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Wes inhaled and leaned forward slightly. “Talk to one another and figure it out.”

The vigilante paused and blinked several times because…that’s it? Really? And he asks as such, tone utterly confused. Wes laughed in response and shrugged, something he’s been doing a lot recently, as he gave Tim an almost flat look.

“Yep, that’s it. Shocking isn’t it? But yeah, that’s all you really have to do, just…sit down and talk to each other. Figure yourselves out and how y’all are going to continue from there.”

That…was a plan. Not something Tim did very much, both as a Drake and as a Drake-Wayne, but it was a plan nonetheless. It didn’t remove the anxiety that thrashed and clawed inside him, the fear and the what ifs. Not adding that there was something to this plan that was wrong in the way that something wasn’t even mentioned in it.

“What about you?”

Wes paused and his nose scrunched up in confusion. “Huh?”

“What about you.” Tim repeats his words again as he stared down the theorist. “Where do you stand in this situation, Wes? You’ve given me advice and how to proceed with this situation and what could possibly happen but you’ve never stated your own opinion on this.”

Wes frowned slightly at Tim. “I thought it was pretty obvious what my stance was on this.”

“No, no, not really. Well- kind of? Look, I guess what I’m trying is ask is…” Tim paused, resisting the urge to lick his lips as his heart squeezed painfully at the thought he’d formed. “..Should Danny and I…break up because of this, will we also be separating?” Tim’s voice slowly got quieter as he asked the elephant in the room, the dreadful question.

Wes blinked slowly, as if this wasn’t something the ginger had thought too hard about, and he was silent for a long moment which made Tim’s skin itch before he finally replied. “…No. I’m not going to leave you should you and Danny end up breaking up.”

Something loosened in Tim’s chest, only slightly but it was still a nice weight removal all the same.

“Really?”

Wes made a micro expression like he instinctually wanted to say something snarky before his face quickly smoothed out and he nodded. “Really.”

“Okay…okay. I think it’s time I go talk to Danny.”

•• End ••

What did Tim do? Who knows! Up to you I guess.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #crossover #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #tim drake #wes weston #stalkers and cryptids

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faorism · 1 year

Text

(really in my feels about the ot3 because of the @powerpolyculeshowdown so here's some propaganda)

parker and hardison allow eliot to be sillier. more ridiculous. outragous, even. eliot sings the stupid ditties hardison writes special for him, and he rolls his eyes at parkers pokes and prods and the occasional "accidental" face slap, and eliot can express himself for what actually bothers him no matter how nitpicky, versus having to calculate what he should say. (he still argues with hardison that throwing in on a brewpub was a stupid plan given its risk, no matter how many times hardison claims it was always a gift for him.) eliot laughs more. real laughs; you can tell because his smiles look more and more like grimaces: the way his ma perked her mouth which his dad always teased her about (though it was his favorite thing about her), rather than the wide toothy grins eliot learned because he knows, tactically, they are best for charming. parker and hardison let him not feel like he's a monster. or... parker tells him she always thought the big bad wolf had a bad rap, and hardison says some stupid shit about monsterfucking being the hip thing the kids are into these days, anyway.

hardison and eliot allow parker to feel deep. it's food that tastes like a hug and it's gadgets made just for her and it's loving and being loved and it's being one another's real families. she doessn't want to run away, anymore. or... she wants to run but with her friends beside her. or... running cons is all she's ever wanted to do, and all she did, for so long. parker is good at it. she loves it. she loves that hardison and eliot love it too. but... feeling deep is also being deep. she's no longer just her piles of money because she is no longer afraid of herself. her past. the memories that hurt. the habits she thought she needed to grow out of but always missed. these habits, like bleeping sounds that arent words and hands move move moving. hands that were once made to stay now can fly because hardison buys her fidgets and designs some just for her and keeps locks in lucille for when parker feels like infinity and needs the vibrations of ticktickticks to bring her back to herself. and eliot lets her braid and unbraid his hair; he won't let her blow dry it, not yet, but... he lets her pet his hair while it's still hot, now. it frizzes his hair a little, and parker feels her pulse rush throughout the day knowing she did that to him. eliot and hardison kiss her knuckles when they burn.

parker and eliot allow hardison to be mean. vindictive. he is nicer than he needs to be. wants to be... what he needs to be is nonthreatening, for the most part, in many places. he knows what it means to be him: tall and black and queer and gaining muscle and too smart for his own damn good and so very, very tenderhearted. hardison loves so damn deep, and he cares so damn much, but part of caring (the other side of a coin) is not giving a fuck. it's the boiling point of rage and betrayal. the i need to walk away from this fight because you are dead wrong and imma about to say something imma regret, so go fix yourself. the im not gonna forget, im not going to forgive, and im going to get my revenge. parker and eliot would not have questioned hardison's joy at securing the capture of the men that put him in that damn coffin; they hold space for him to be fully himself with all his ugly parts and his petty parts and the parts that do bring hardison shame if he thinks about it for too long. they know he's not perfect, and that? that feels like safety and love and forever to hardison.

#alec hardison #parker leverage #eliot spencer #leverage #leverage ot3 #thiefsome #faorism work #faorism headcanons #of hearth and home and other promises

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genshin-impacted · 1 year

Text

three ways to say goodbye

Never once does Alhaitham ever say the words ‘good-bye.’ (And one time he doesn’t need to.) OR You die in four three different ways; Alhaitham deals with your death differently each time.

Word Count: ~3.5k (one shot)

Notes: Alhaitham x Reader (3+1 fic), gender-neutral reader, Alhaitham POV, major character death(s) (you), ANGST, mainly hurt with comfort at the end, exploratory fic on how Alhaitham deals with grief & death-- his devotion, each part has specific notes

[anticlimatic]

notes: slight description of dead body (you), blood, ambiguous relationship status; implied roommates with Kaveh and Alhaitham, could be ot3 if you squint, mild profanity

Your death came without warning, without rhyme or reason. It doesn't make sense for you to die here, your potential on the brink of being fully realized, your journey cut abruptly before it has even started. As a narrative, your death is almost anticlimactic, unpredictable and hidden away in the forests of Sumeru where the rangers found you, body broken and eyes closed forever. Your wings must have failed you midflight, plummeting you down to the ground without a safety net. If there were any signs of foul play, it is hard to tell; there is so much blood to wash off of you.

Tighnari was the one to set your limbs straight to make you look more comfortable, and Cyno was the one to tell Alhaitham to come and identify your body.

It's only a formality at this point. Cyno and Tighnari-- Alhaitham thinks they would not have let Collei see your body, bruised as it is-- would have been ample identification checks. They know you well, consider you a friend. It may also be a sort of mercy from Cyno to inform Alhaitham of what has happened so he can be one of the first to know, the first to see you.

They know Alhaitham was more important to you than any of them-- Alhaitham included-- could truly understand. So, of course, it is Alhaitham who gets to know first.

Cyno peels back the cover from your head. It must be the least injured part of your body because the only tell-tale sign that you are dead is the stillness of your face. You are the most animated person he knows, even if you aren't aware of it. You constantly move your eyes to see the world for what it is, lips always upturned subconsciously, though Alhaitham can remember the days when you went without for quite some time. It was a trying period for you, but your smile came back eventually, and all felt right in the world.

Alhaitham knows it will not come back this time.

"It's them," he says, though you look far from the person you were when you were still alive. "Where will the body be stored?"

"The Sumeru morgue," Cyno replies. He pauses. "Will you-"

"They have no family. No next of kin." Alhaitham says, "I will arrange their funeral."

Cyno only nods, and Alhaitham watches as he goes to cover your face up with a foreboding sense of dread he cannot place. Cyno does not apologize to Alhaitham for his loss. Neither of them is the type to placate others even in their grief. As for "his" loss? Certainly not just his. You were well loved, a bud in bloom among the vines of the Akademiya with your reputation built from the soil up. Those that knew you will mourn.

Yes, Alhaitham is in mourning, right now, isn't he? Everyone else believes it to be so. Tighnari tells him ‘my condolences' even though his own face is tight with regret, as though he could have single handedly prevented this from happening. He doesn't see Collei but perhaps that is telling enough of her grief. Cyno tells him that he will let Dehya and Candace know, and Alhaitham can only nod in agreement.

Alhaitham thinks he knows the reason for the dread when he comes home and Kaveh is there. His roommate has been pacing around in the living room, Alhaitham can tell. Without either you or Alhaitham present, Kaveh was worried but trying not to think of the worst-case scenario. Alhaitham has to be the one to break the news to him of the worst-case scenario, and he braces himself for the torrent.

If Alhaitham is the person who knows you best, then Kaveh is right behind him. Your death will devastate Kaveh, even if Kaveh does not know it yet.

"You're lying," Kaveh tells him. His face is as impassive as Alhaitham has ever seen. "You're lying to me, and it's not fucking funny-"

"I’m not lying," Alhaitham says. When Kaveh opens his mouth to argue, spit vitriol, call him a liar again, Alhaitham feels his own temper rise, and for a twisted moment, it almost feels familiar, him and Kaveh at each other's throats, except they've never argued over something as serious as this. "I wouldn’t lie about this. And you know it."

Alhaitham expects it to escalate. Kaveh will raise his voice and Alhaitham will too, both of them feeding their animosity into each other like they have never done since their Akademiya days. Even their latest bickering is nothing, and with you added into the mix, it becomes even less than that-- more eye rolls and snarky remarks than anything close to an argument.

But you're gone. So everything is different now, even if no one wants it to be. And when Kaveh's lips begin to tremble, his face falling upon the realization that oh god, Alhaitham is telling the truth, Alhaitham realizes something too. Telling Kaveh about your death was worthy of dread, but the thought that nothing will ever be the same with you gone, makes the foreboding feeling gape and widen.

He will pass by Lambad's Tavern and walk in, expecting you to be there at the third seat of the bar, writing your essay, but you will not. He will sit at the table nearest the window in the House of Daena and read while waiting for you to come and ask him to find a book, but you will not. He will walk home, noise canceling headphones off despite the bustle of the city, because he expects you to come up from behind him, hoping to surprise him for once, but you will never come. He will enter an empty home, quiet and devoid of sound, and instead of being relieved, he will only feel the same heavy dread, knowing you will never come home again.

Alhaitham never said he loved you aloud, and now he never will. Did you know anyways? Without him telling you, did you know that he loved you? Through the way he believed in you, the way he said your name, the times he's helped you, eaten with you, let you sleep on his shoulder and in his bed when you were tired. You knew him best, cherished him more than he could understand. Did you know he loved you like you loved him?

The unspoken questions, the unsaid words. As abrupt your death is, it is permanent, and Alhaitham will have to live life knowing there is an empty space where you once were that will never be filled again.

[stay]

notes: slight description of dead body (you), blood, established relationship

Alhaitham cannot control things that are beyond his abilities to do so. The heavenly principles are far beyond him, beyond even the archons themselves, so it only makes sense that the events that transpire involving them are out of his control.

This upsets him less than most people would think. He's a thinker, calculating each of his steps before implementing them, so it would make sense when he can’t plan out every step of the way. People would be right to an extent, but Alhaitham is logical enough to understand there is no use trying to change something that he cannot. And why waste time being upset over that when he can focus on the things he can control?

Only… he is human, and even he miscalculates. When he thinks of the things within his power to control, he thinks about your happiness, his ability to make you laugh and blush, the ways he can keep you safe. He did not anticipate, as he holds your hands slick from your own blood, that your safety is beyond his control.

"Let me stop the bleeding," Alhaitham tells you, scanning his surroundings for anything he can to help him staunch your wound. You look at him, breathing shallow, his grip not once faltering even as you seem to lose the strength to hold onto him. "Don't fall asleep. Keep looking at me. I'll use my cape for now-"

"Alhaitham."

"I’ll lift your body up," he says, clicking his tongue when his hands slip from under you with the blood. "Tie this around you for now. The Traveler wasn't far from here-"

"Haitham."

"-even Paimon can help carry your legs if you can't walk anymore. I know she can-" Alhaitham stops when you start to push his hands away from your abdomen where the bleeding is most heavy. "What are you doing?"

"Can you," you begin to say, rasping these words as though it is taking every breath to speak, "can you just hold me? Haitham."

Alhaitham shakes his head. "I’ll hold you later.” He tells you, swallowing thickly as you look into his eyes as though searching for something. The next words makes his mouth dry, but he must say it. He must try. “I promise. I have to do this-"

"I can tell I'm not gonna make it."

Alhaitham shifts his legs under him and feels his knees soak in blood.

"Respectfully," Alhaitham says icily, "you may be more well versed with medicine than me, but you aren't at full capacity right now to judge accurately."

You laugh at this. Alhaitham doesn't see how any of this could be funny to you. He doesn't understand you. He never has. But, oh, he wishes he does; wishes he had all the time in the world to get to understand you more.

He feels your hand paw at his wrist, your fingers cold as ice.

You shake your head so slowly, and the smile you give him blooms just as slowly as the Padisarah flower he gave you last week. Your smile is no less beautiful though, no less bright despite it all.

"Maybe." You sigh. "But I’d like for you to hold me anyways. Please?" You say, "I feel so cold."

Alhaitham swallows his protests, because in the end, it is logic that will always win against all else: there is a low percentage that any help will arrive, and Alhaitham cannot do anything to save you.

“Okay,” he says quietly, gathering you up into his arms. Strong as he is, he is so gentle with the way he brings your head to rest against his shoulders, bringing your legs over his lap so he can cradle your body against his to share the warmth. He hears you sigh in relief, though he doubts it’s because you feel any warmer. It is purely comfort that he is providing, until the end.

For the first time since his youth, Alhaitham feels helpless.

“Your eyes are so pretty,” you tell him, words slurring. He lets out a huff of laughter– he feels delirious almost– that is shakier than usual, taking your cold hands and kissing your fingers as though it could bring it some semblance of warmth. “Lots of colors.”

‘Thanks,’ he could say dryly, like he always does. ‘I think I might like yours better,’ he could say; it would get a laugh out of you, and isn’t that what he always wants for you? ‘I love you’ would work too; it always works when it’s you.

Alhaitham opens his mouth to reply, but instead of anything he has planned, he says to you instead with all the desperation in his heart, “Please stay.”

“I love you,” you tell him instead; you always made it sound so easy to say.

In the aftermath, when the dust has settled and those who have not toppled remain, Kaveh finds Alhaitham hours after your death, cradling your body, his face buried into your neck.

[anticipatory]

notes: next two parts have the same back story- you have a leyline curse similar to Dainsleif; some fluff here! established relationship

“How long,” you ask as you lie in bed with him, “do you think I have?”

Alhaitham’s hand stops tracing lines on your back over the curse marks that paint your skin abyss blue. It’s not an unfamiliar question. You ask every once in a while, because you can’t see the progression of the ley line curse on your back, so you rely on him to tell you how far it’s spread.

Based on the growth, which only seems to go faster by the day, Alhaitham calculates you have about another year before it consumes your entire body.

Only six months ago it was invisible to the naked eye. Tonight, the blues spread outward like butterfly wings from the middle of your spine to reach your shoulders. You’ve already stopped wearing sleeveless shirts to cover the marks, but when they go past your neck or onto your hands, it’ll be difficult to justify wearing turtlenecks and gloves all the time while in Sumeru.

“Let’s take a vacation to Shnezhnaya at the end of the year,” Alhaitham says instead. “I have three months worth of sick days and breaks.”

You pause for a moment before letting him guide the conversation away. “Isn’t one of their main cuisines soup dishes? Borscht or something like that.” He hears you say, amused. “You hate soups.”

“It makes it difficult to read,” he explains, tracing lines into your back again. You sigh in contentment as he spreads the expanse of his palm along your shoulders, memorizing the abyssal stars that align along the path he makes. “I can deal with it for a little bit. I can cook something else while we’re there.”

You’re quiet for a little bit, breathing even and steady that Alhaitham thinks you’ve fallen asleep while he was memorizing the dips and curves of your body. You shift when he lifts the blanket up higher over you. He can hear you swallow audibly as though readying yourself to say something, probably to redirect the conversation back to your initial question, he suspects. Before he can say anything, you say with a voice as equally shaky as it is steady, “I’m sorry.”

Alhaitham’s heart stops. “Why are you apologizing?” He asks as calmly as ever when you do not answer, “Because I’ll have to cook on vacation? Not really that an inconvenience, isn’t it? I’m assuming we’ll split the responsibility.”

No answer.

“I wasn’t going to use the vacation dates anyways,” he continues. “And I hardly get sick. Though now that we’re talking about it, three months in one place is a long time. Perhaps we should consider traveling-”

Then he sees you crumble before his eyes, shoulders shaking, face burying into your hands as you start to cry.

Experienced at loving you now, Alhaitham is quick to bring you close. Lucky enough for him, you still melt against him, welcoming his embrace as he coaxes you to turn his way and bury yourself into his nape instead of your hands. He can still hear your apologies mixed between the gasps of air you take, your tears seemingly unending. He holds you steady, voice calm even though his heart is leaping in his chest as it always does when you are upset.

“What’s wrong?” he says, voice hushed. And like every other time you are upset, he asks you, "What can I do to fix it?”

“I don’t-” you say, voice cracking, “I don’t want to leave you.”

“...You don’t know that you will,” Alhaitham says. And it’s true. Neither of you know what will happen for certain. A lone blond traveler with a curse similar to you had passed by and told him of his eventual fate, and you had likened it to your own. But there’s no proof proving the two of you are the same, though it can’t be said that there is no connection between your fates at all.

“How long do you think I have?” You ask again, and he knows he cannot hide it from you any longer.

“A year at most,” he says. Your eyelashes brush by his collarbone when you close your eyes shut. He stops you before your thoughts can even form. “I am not leaving you.” He scoffs and you make a noise of indignation. “Don’t even think about saying something like that.”

“You didn’t let me say anything yet,” he hears you grumble, and he lets a huff of laughter out at the sound of your petulant voice.

“Do you really think I would do something if I didn’t want to?” Alhaitham says dryly, “And what’s the thought process behind me leaving you before you can leave me? I’d love to know.” When you are quiet, he continues softly, “Do you think I am that fragile to fall apart when you are gone?”

“...No,” you say finally. “But I think you underestimate how strongly you feel.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, really,” you say, and your voice is light again, as it always is when you talk about how much you love him. “‘Cause I know better. How much you really feel, even if your face is… like that.”

“Like what,” Alhaitham says bluntly. When you only laugh into his shoulder, he can’t help but smile with you.

If Alhaitham could describe it, it feels like the longest goodbye. ‘Live every moment like it’s your last’ becomes the mantra between the two of you, though neither of you has said those exact words out loud. You love in abundance, laugh in abundance, bicker in full as though you are trying to live out the rest of your lives in one year.

The day Alhaitham takes you to the snowy lands of Snezhnaya is sooner than later, the scarves and gloves worn more days than not. As promised, you two do share the cooking duties for those months, getting cozy by the fireplace and learning how to icefish from the locals. He learns how to barter with the merchants there and commissions the two of you rings to wear. Though he never sees you wear it outside, he can always feel the ring when he holds your gloved hands. He thinks you never take it off.

When Alhaitham returns from Snezhnaya, he comes home alone with nothing but a golden band on his ring finger. The people that know him know better than to ask.

[priorities]

notes: connected background as previous but different ending; fluff! established relationship; happy end

Alhaitham has always been the type to stay in the background. People might be inclined to call him the ‘mastermind’ but that’s giving him too much credit considering how much he wants to remain unknown and unperceived. But he supposes having a hand in toppling the heavenly principles and destroying the castle in the sky and being unrecognized is asking for too much.

“You’re an… interesting guy,” you tell him, a few days after the climactic battle which, fortunately, neither of you had to have a large part in. (Well, there was that key role for you… and another for him, but that is neither here nor there.) You snicker into your hand when he shoots you a strange look.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Alhaitham asks, and before he can continue his retort, you are sitting on his lap even though the two of you are supposed to both be on bedrest, in separate beds. Tighnari is going to kill them if he finds them now that he knows neither of you are going to die any time soon.

“It means you’re an interesting guy,” you say. “The first thing you tell me is that you hate involving yourself into tedious things. And then you get yourself into making strategies to take down literal gods, which sounds pretty tedious to me.”

Your smile is beautific when you look at him, your arms finding their way around his neck and legs over his lap. Instinctively, he puts a hand around your back and holds onto your legs so you don’t fall. He takes a peek at your back and sees that the abyssal blue has not moved a single centimeter beyond your shoulder blades. He knows that was what was calculated, but still, he breathes a sigh of relief upon its confirmation.

“I always make a basic list of pros and cons for a plan,” Alhaitham says. “I just deemed overthrowing gods to be less tedious than the alternative outcome.”

“And what could possibly be more tedious than overthrowing a literal god?” You laugh, looking up at him as though he hung the moon and stars. He thinks if he hung the moon and stars, then you must be the one holding up the sun in the sky.

“Losing you,” Alhaitham says simply. “I’d prefer not to imagine a life without you in it, so I made sure that a life with you would happen.”

Alhaitham knows you are smart enough to know what he was going to say, but you seem surprised anyways, eyes wide and tears welling up at his admission. Perhaps some time ago, Alhaitham would not have believed it would have ever been worth upheaving his life for the sake of another person. But Alhaitham has never been one for halves; the moment he decided to have you in his life, then there was no other option for him.

“I love you,” you say, and he thinks overthrowing gods is an easy choice to make if three words is enough to make him feel this happy, if your arms around him is enough to make him content.

He’s said it before, and he’ll say it again– it’s only a matter of priorities. You just happen to be right on top of that list.

#alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham #i think this may be my first genshin angst fic #like the fact some of these parts dont end happily? crazy for me #OFF BRAND i would say #couldnt resist adding a happy part tho :)

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