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ja3hwa · 4 months

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♡ 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥 | 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ♡

【Synopsis】 : It's been so long since you've seen your boys. And when the youngest comes knocking on your door, the new life you had only just managed to build comes crashing down.

『Word count』 : 4.8k

-> Genre: Mafia au. Angst. Fluff.

Pairing: Mob Boss!Ot8 Ateez x Reader

[Warnings] : lots of heart ache. The reader is beside herself a lot. Blood. Gore. Death. Torture. Reader gets kidnapped. Tears. Hugging. Lots of cry. Grovelling (we stan a good grovel). And yeah, lots of angst but fluffy at the end. Kissing. Mingi got a dirty mind. Whoops.

Note: uh, so hi. Ahha It's been a while... I finally decided to actually finish the alt ending of this fic. I've had people ask for more, and I honestly forgot about it. But then i saw someone send in THIS request, and it made me want to finish this. So this can be read as a stand-alone. But if you want to read part 1 and the other ending. Go ahead, otherwise enjoyyyyy ♡

Part one | Other Ending

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You were alone. Wandering through life with nothing to hold onto. You were going underwater, and no one was around to help you above the heavy waves. You were numb. Heartbreak ridding you of happiness… Or so you thought.

Through a bottle or two... Maybe three or four. You found at the end of it. You were just as unhappy as you were before you took the first sip. You needed a change. A change of scenery. A change of personality. A completely new life. So there you were two towns over. Maybe not a whole country away from the old you, but this was just as good. A new apartment. New job. Architectural design. You enjoyed it, so dearly. It became something that kept you going. That kept you waking up. You were fighting for a glimpse of happiness in mornings that were still hard, and nights were just as restless as ever.

You were alone. Yes. But you tried.

It's been two whole years. You think you’d forgotten everything by now. But the biggest, deepest pain didn’t seem to heal as quickly as everyone says it does. Fucking Liars…

You were having a break from your long hours of sketching a new mansion floor plan, a private owner wanted it done within the week and for a heavy price and as much as it was a distraction you couldn't help but think how the design the private buyer seemed to want a floor plan that resembled something that one of your old lovers would have loved. The vintage vibe with a green and gold theme matched Mingi and Yunho perfectly. Your brain almost thought maybe they were the private buyer. But why would they go to you after what you had ‘apparently done’ to them? Before you could dwell on the idea anymore, the sound of your doorbell broke your gaze from the large sketch in front of you.

You question why someone would be visiting you at this hour, given that most of your clients would email you beforehand and your ‘friends’ would text. So, who could possibly be at your door? Your heart thumped strangely as if your body knew who was beyond the large oak before you. A ball started to form at the base of your throat. Was this anxiousness you were feeling? Gripping the silver handle, you creek the door open slowly, and when your gaze met the other person you feel your heart stop.

“Hi…”

You looked at the man with a dumbfounded expression, tilting your head in confusion. Hi? After all these years, hi is what he starts with. What does he take you for? A hopeless woman needing a man to catch her when she falls?

You go to shut the door without a second thought, but he catches it in his strong arms. The same arms that used to hold you. Shield you from all the danger―no stop you didn’t need them when you were completely broken and you most certainly don’t need them now.

“Please let me explain. Honey, I just…” He was scrambling to find his words, his breath catching his throat like he was running a marathon prior to this interaction. “I wanted to see you…tell you.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Jongho.” You finally spoke, silently yelling at yourself for sounding so shaky in your voice when you wanted to be mad, tone-deaf, blunt. But here you are, wanting to cry cause of the anger surging through you. Why must you always cry when you get mad. “You don’t get to come here after almost two fucking years, call me honey and tell me how much you miss me and think I’ll just fall back into your arms as if nothing happened.”

“T-that’s not what I want nor expect from you. I just want―I don’t care what you want. Now get off my porch.” You cut him off, slamming the door in his face before breaking down the minute you heard the latch click. Your legs buckle, sliding down the door before your knees hit the ground, sobbing into your hands. Your heart was breaking all over again, just like the night you left. You wanted nothing more than to run after him, beg him to hold you. But you couldn’t. They hurt you so much. How do you even begin to forgive them for what happened all those years ago?

Through the next months, you kept receiving letters, flowers, and gift boxes. Even teddy bears. Why would they give you teddy bears? You think they would have known you from being with them for so long. Throwing yet another soft plush toy on the ever-growing pile that sat in your office. You were beginning to become sick of it. You thought after you yelled at Jongho, he and the others would have gotten the hint, but you guess being dumped by eight mob bosses wasn’t as easy as you thought.

Sighing, you click your tongue, looking at the stack of letters you have yet to burn. You can’t even be bothered to open them, not wanting to even listen to anything they might have to say. But another part of you was curious. Maybe one letter couldn’t hurt, right? Reaching for the one on the top, your fingers grasp the small paper. It’s rough against your skin. Like the paper was made from a poor-quality tree. Odd? Why would your ex-lovers gift you such cheap gifts? Not that you were expecting high-priced gifts, but they had enough money to buy half the world, so you think them getting something with a heavier price tag wouldn’t matter. Something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t adding up.

But before you could think of anything else, a loud, almost anger-filled knock comes from the front door. Your body was suddenly on high alert. Goosebumps erode all over your skin as a sickening feeling clouds your head. Grabbing your letter opener―just in case―you walk slowly towards the noise. Thoughts ran through your head in time with the beats of your racing heart. You knew walking towards the suspicious noise was a bad idea, but what else could you do? Whoever was there would know you were home by the lights being on or how your car is parked in the driveway. You couldn’t just pretend you weren’t home, no matter how hard you wanted to try.

Your fingers graze the door handle, feeling your breath hitch. You twist it slowly until you hear the creek of the door hinges swing inwards. You brace yourself for whoever it was, but what you are met with confused you. The porch was empty?

No one in sight…

But you certainly heard a loud knock. You were going crazy… were you? You huff, straightening up, feeling relief wash over you. Maybe it was some kids pranking the neighbours again, and you were their target for the day. Who knows. You click the door closed, but you lock it this time because even though you see no threat, you wanted to be sure. Entering your office again you walk over to the letters in order to continue what you were doing but when your eyes gaze over the pieces of paper you notice the one you were going to open wasn’t on the table. Where did you go? You thought, placing the letter opener on the table so you could place your hand on the edge of the oak desk so you could look under it. You looked everywhere and couldn’t seem to find it. It was like it had vanished. But…was that a flash? Something caught your eye.

Looking at the teddy bears, you see the letter sitting in the lap of one of the plushies. Tilting your head you notice a little red flash like as if there was a recor―Your eyes snap open stumbling back slightly before turning to run but your body is met with a very broad object and then before you can get any baring on what or who was in behind of you, everything went black.

It was like the world was spinning, your head pinging with an aching pain from the left side of your skull. You tried to open your eyes and look around, but you quickly figured out you were blindfolded and bound to what seemed to be a chair. Typical. Why is it that whenever someone gets kidnapped, they get tied to an old wooden chair? Why couldn’t it be a couch or one of those soft deck chairs? You could hear some scampering around you, three, maybe four people had entered the room you were in. You can smell their shitty cheap cologne that they most likely think bend women at the knees. You knew what kind of people they were before even seeing them.

“Well well. Looks like my men have caught a pretty mouse of us to play with.” The heavy voice echoed around the room, hinting to you that you were most likely in an open area. A warehouse, maybe? “You are gonna be my ticket to freedom songbird.”

You had to cringe at the pet name that fell from his lips. The name you were known as in the mafia world. More specifically, Ateez’s Songbird. You tried to sit still, hoping to show a fraudulent sense of confidence, but in reality, you were petrified. You no longer had the eight men you loved dearly to save you. Then again, you had no one to save you. Most of your friends lived out of town and wouldn’t even come to the rescue if you begged. You were alone with these men. Blindfolded and at their will. The man you assume was talking before lifted your blindfold off, seeing your eyes suddenly gaze upon the piercing light from the headlamp above you. You can see your suspicions were correct, four men ranging from sizable jock build to more lean ones but in the end, they were all ghastly, staring you down as if you were nothing more than a piece of meat.

“I want to know where Ateez is….” The grunt that escaped from the immoral male smelled of booze and low-quality cigars. His eyes were painted his redness, as if he hadn't slept in days, weeks even. He was boarding insanity at this rate by his expression. “Well come on, I know you know where they are, and to be blunt, I need them dead. You know business and all.” He rambles, walking around your figure while you sit there listening to his utter bullshit. His words remind you of when a villain in the story starts blabbering to the captor about how they needed to defeat the hero in order to take over the world. But in this case, both sides are just as villainous as each other, and the “world” that’s referenced is stocks… weapons, contraband, drugs, money. The list goes on and on.

“Why are you so quiet, Songbird? Protecting your lovers?”

Now that one made you laugh, shaking your head in annoyance. Argh, what you would give to be home with a strong whiskey in hand right now. Your reaction sent a shocked expression to the disgusting man's face. He expected you to plea, beg for him to not hurt Ateez, to not hurt the loves of your life and yet here you sit, laughing right in his face like he had just said the most entertaining thing to you.

“I don’t know where they are.” You finally spoke, a sadistic smile painted your face. To never backed down from his gaze, almost trying to intimidate him with your blazed stare. “Why would I know, or care where they are? They don’t care about me.”

His paced. Fuck. He thought. Did his men really just kidnap you for no reason? He was going to shoot someone for this. He began to sweat, you were his only hope of getting the men he hates, attention. And now you were useless. His hand raked through his hair, coming down to scratch the stubble on his chin. What is he going to do with you now? Looking back at you his eyes slid down your body from head to toe, as if he was a predator sizing up his prey. You felt a sudden uneasiness. Maybe telling the man that held your life in his hand you were useless, wasn’t your greatest idea.

He moved away, whispering to one of his men before he sent him off, turning back to you straight after. He stepped one foot in front of the other in a slow and formed way, as if he had come up with the best plan in history. His devious smile brought a lump in your throat and the way he leaned down in front of you, placing both hands on the chair arms so he was face to face with you. “Well, little dove. We can find other uses for you, hmm?”

An idea popped into your head, and maybe it was your hotheadedness or your sheer stubbornness to do things out of spite. Bringing your body back slacked against the chair frame, you watched as his smirk grew, thinking he had finally managed to scare you, but before he could react, you whipped your head forward. Your forehead smashes against his nose with a sickening crack, and a blood-curtailing scream follows. The man gripped his nose with a sharp hiss. You could see blood pouring down like a waterfall from his nose, spilling all over his clothes and floor. Your blurred vision and ache in your skull doesn’t last long as you shake your head. You can see his men crowding around him to see if he is okay.

“Bitch!” He swore, standing up straight from his crouched position to stomp over to you and slap you clean in your face, making you and the chair fall over, smacking your side against the concrete. You can feel your wrist twist before popping out of place from the impact. Your elbow scraped against the harsh floor along with your arm, making you feel the sensation of your blood escaping through the broken skin. A cut on the top of your head also spilled some blood onto the floor making a headache begin to form. Maybe this wasn’t your best idea.

“Get the kit. I wanna teach this whore a lesson.” He spat out some blood that spilled into his mouth from his nose.

“whore? I thought it was bitch? Or as it little dove?” you need to shut your mouth but you choose to keep pushing his buttons. Idiot. He kicked you square in the gut making you hitch your breath before almost coughing up a lung at the pain. Your watered eyes could now barely see as you tried to blink the tears away. You spot out the corner of your eye a bag of what you could only guess, torture tools. Great, now you really fucked up.

You had passed out at least two or three times, and every time, you were woken up by ice-cold water to the face. The temperature of the water stung your opened wounds and burned at your hot red flesh. Time was absent to you, not knowing how long you’d been sitting, tied to the comfortable chair. God, your limbs were gonna ache once you were able to get out. that’s if you get out.

Maybe you will die here. The irony. Dying in a place of crime in a life of anguish when you so desperately tried to run from it. To try so hard to clean up and forget the darkness that lingered in your past. But in truth, you missed. As sicken as it sounded. You missed the violence, the thrill, the wealth and power. You missed being feared by your enemies and adored by your lovers. Call you sadistic for finding nostalgia in torture, but it was true. Even if you were the one who was currently being hurt, you couldn’t help but smile weakly.

“I found her!!” A muffled voice and sounds of gunshots echoed around you. But you were so dazed you couldn’t seem to pinpoint the noise. Your eyes were fuzzed, and blood tainted your view. Everything was happening so fast until you saw the stillness.

“Y-yuyu?” Your eyes glossed, seeing a blurred figure that resembled Yunho. But it couldn’t be him, could it? You must be dreaming, finally getting ready to leave this plane, but why would your guardian angel look like Yunho?

“I’ve got you, baby. Hold on.” You had already passed out for the final time before you would hear another word slip from your ex-lover's mouth. His rough hands gripped the rope that bounded your hands, cutting it away with his pocket knife. He snaked his arm under your legs and on your lower back, picking you up from the old wooden chair with ease. Your blood had pooled on the floor and now trailed behind Yunho as he jogged with you in his arms. His suit was now tainted red from you, but he couldn’t care less. The only thing on his mind was getting you to safety and maybe killing some assholes along the way.

To say you couldn’t explain the pain surging through your body was correct. You had never experienced such torture before, and man, you were definitely regretting some of the stupid shit you had said to the low-life mob boss earlier. Your vision was still so blurred, and your head was ringing. You could faintly see a bedside with a clock on it. But the face was dark like it was unplugged. You know this place. You remembered the smell of vanilla and pine. You remembered the dark spruce bed frame and emerald forest green bed sheets. You weren’t thinking when you started to snuggle into the bedding, inhaling the comforting scent.

You missed his smell. You missed being in this bed. God, you didn’t realize how much you missed them. You wanted to be strong. You didn’t want them, didn’t want to forgive them. But the comfort…. tears were falling from your cheeks onto the silk pillow. You were sobbing, and your mind was beside itself. One part screaming at you, telling you to suck it up and leave. But on the other side, you were so tired. So, so…tired…. and all you wanted was your boys.

“Sugar…” You froze, hearing the man that belonged to the bedroom. His deep voice, velvet and smooth. You could hear a crack in it like he had been in tears prior. You didn’t move, frozen with fear, because you knew if you looked at him in those beautiful brown eyes, you would be done for. “Baby, are you awake?”

He knew you were, but he didn’t want to approach you without knowing if it was okay. He knew by the way you looked at them last time you saw them that you had feared them. Something he never wanted to see in your beautiful innocent gaze. Torment that he and the others caused. He would never forgive himself, so he understood if you never did either. “I want to go home…”

You didn’t know what else to say. So god damned scared to stay cause if you did, you might not leave. And you couldn’t do that. What they put you through. You couldn’t possibly begin a relationship with them again… right? “Mingi, please take me home…” you felt so small calling for him, you didn’t want to be surrounded by his scent but at the same time, you didn’t so much as budge from the covers. You didn’t want him to be near you, but yet when he sat down on the edge of the bed, your body was screaming to be held by him. Everything was so messed up. Why did it have to end up like this? Why was this your ending with them?

Mingi couldn’t find his wording, his hand coming up to your covered shoulders, putting a firm but gentle touch on it. He wanted nothing more than to hold you, kiss you. Make love to you while repeating how sorry he was over and over while he caused you to come over and over. “I missed you…” His voice cracked. “We all have…” better now than never to explain himself, right? “After the first couple of weeks, we found out that those pictures were faked. A way to manipulate us into crumbling our empire. They thought if they could put us all at each other's throats. I guess they won…”

“How did you find they were fake?” You asked in a whisper, keeping your face covered with the bed sheet.

“Another anonymous tip went off that San was ‘sneaking’ around with some guy. But Wooyoung was quick to debunk it cause San was with him that whole week. So we quickly found out that this was a ploy to rip us all apart… which worked.” Mingi regretted every word he spoke. They managed to find out San was innocent quicker than you. San was lucky he had an alibi, though unlike you, that was away without their knowledge, just trying to buy a gift for your anniversary... god, they were so stupid...

“It...Worked?” You were confused about that since it only caused you to leave. From your knowledge, the boys were all still together? Mingi sighed, standing up, which caused you to peek out from your hiding spot to see him pouring a whiskey from the small bar in the corner of the room. Before downing the amber-coloured liquor.

“Seonghwa and Hongjoong became obsessed with work. They’ve become biter…” He took another shot of the harsh liquor. “Cruel… The number of people they’ve put in the dungeons just from looking in their direction wrong.”

You felt sick, flashes of them yelling at you, cursing you. The image of them with that anger plus a gun. You felt sorry for any of the suckers that were unlucky enough to gaze at them wrong. You tangled your fingers into the soft sheets, playing with the velvet fabric. You note how the hand that had popped out earlier was still slightly swollen and numb, making you barely able to feel the fabric on your right fingertips. “W-What about the others…”

“Jongho spent most of his time looking for you. Spying on you. Seeing all the achievements you have made.” He sounded proud of you for a moment like he sought knowledge of your life from the youngest. “Yeosang drove himself into his computer work, taking on small tasks in the outer parts of the city. If we hadn’t said we brought you home, he would have still been hiding somewhere.” He flicked his hand in the air, scoffing slightly.

“San and Wooyoung changed the most when you left. They became lost without you, distant… different. Like the sunshine was ripped from their life, and darkness consumed them.”

He took a seat at the end of the bed again. You had sat up, crossing your legs, eyeing his figure. He has gotten bigger than the last time you’ve seen him. He’s bulked up, and from what your memory could recall, Yunho was bigger as well. The way his arms felt being around you as he carried you to safety were definitely bulkier. “And what about you? Yunho?”

He huffed, glancing up at you. His hand was so close to your covered legs. So close yet so far. “Yunho and I are…fine. We missed you.”

You knew fine meant they were both struggling just as much as the others. You shifted, moving a little closer to him. Your heart was still aching, but your body was craving to feel some warmth. and at this point, you were so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of running. Tired of anyone telling you who or how to live your life? who cares if you run back to your exes? Who cared if you decided you move back with them? It’s not like you have friends or family that would tell you otherwise. All you had was them. Eight cruel mob bosses who would do anything for you and who were scared when they thought you had betrayed them. “I missed you too.”

His wide, glossy eyes snapped to yours. Like he had just heard someone spill the secret to life itself. His mouth went dry, a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to spill his guts about how much he missed your smile and missed your laugh. Missed the way you would tease him for being too clingy, but yet you were just as clingy in the next breath. He missed the way your body would melt against his on cold nights, searching for warmth. Or how you would fit so perfectly around his….

“Min…You mind is wondering…” You knew his tells, and you knew he was sinking into his mind.

“I uh…I’m just trying to find the words to say I’m sorry without it sounding like it was an excuse.”

“I believe you’re sorry, mingi. I believe you are all sorry. It doesn’t change or fix what happened. And it’s going to take time for me to trust you all again. But…” You leaned over, placing your hand on his shaking thigh. “I do forgive you.”

He broke.

“We don’t deserve your forgiveness. We don’t deserve you…” Tears were falling down his red cheeks, making you jump to wipe each one away without a second thought. You hadn’t realized how close you were until you noted the smell of the whiskey on his breath and the warmth of his body radiating to yours.

“You might not deserve me. But who is here to tell me to stay away…” he gave you a smile. You didn’t want to forgive him or the others fully per se, but you did want this push-and-pull game. This cruel twisted game of forbidden love.

“The others are going to want to see you…” He spoke cautiously, afraid you might recoil away from him if he spoke too loudly. You just sighed, lowering your hands into your lap once again, sitting back. You could feel your wounds with every movement, but it wasn’t as painful as before. They must have given you some painkillers prior to when you were passed out. You were about to speak when a sudden thud was heard, quickly followed by a bunch of hushed whispers. You couldn’t help but smirk at the childishness, for angry mafia kings they sure know how to act like goofballs.

“They’re outside aren’t they?” You cocked your brow, giving Mingi a simple straight expression. He just rubbed the back of his neck with a small whisper of, ‘Sorry.’

You rolled your eyes, telling him to let them in. Your heart might have been racing faster than a race car, but you tried to hide the growing anxiousness with a plain expression. You were going to hear them all out. You were going to hug San and Wooyoung as they sobbed on the end of your bed with mumblers of ‘I’m sorry.’ over and over again. You were going to give Yeosang a knowing look, so he knew that his silence was accepted and that you weren’t mad. You were going to thank Yunho for saving you, and he was going to kiss your palm as you held his cheek briefly.

And you were going to cry.

Sob at how Hongjoong sat on his knees, grovelling for your forgiveness and pleading how he was so messed up for not believing you. You’d all cry seeing the leader so vulnerable. And Seonghwa. Your darling, hwa… you would see such sorrow in his eyes. But you would let him kiss your cheek, hold you for a moment. Let him have you for a moment while you get your mind into check.

This was not a redemption. This was not forgetting. But a new chance.

Not a new chapter but a new book entirely.

You were going to grow, do your own thing. Be with them while you find yourself. And maybe, just maybe. You’d take Jongho’s offer all those years ago…and finally say yes…

— ♡

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closurechilde · 6 months

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Day 12: Breeding

...I would trade away my soul to choke on this man's dick everyday HES SO HOT-

MY NATIONAL FOOTBALL TEAM IS PLAYING SO THANK EVERY GOD U BELIEVE IN FOR THIS MIRACLE. (Ended up posting this before going to school) cw. f!reader, breeding, husband!diluc, alcohol consumption, creampie (?), breeding n pregnancy mention

An heir. Diluc had always thought about it after mourning the death of his father. Even if he was still young, he knew he would need someone to leave with this empire.

That's when you came into the scene. A pretty lady who went every Saturday to Angel's share for only a glass of wine that you'd gulp down in an hour and a half if you found someone to have a nice chat with. That someone was usually Charles until Diluc decided to take the Saturdays to try and strike a chance with you.

And damn did he strike a chance.

Four years after your first encounter, you find yourself on the winery balcony, looking at the starry night hovering over Mondstadt with a glass of grape juice in your hand that replaced the glass of wine and 'Ragnvndir' as your last name.

He looks at you from the inside of his office. The dimly lighted balcony with a simple light and the moon.

He notices you. He notices the changes you made for him. He notices how you changed the wine for the grape juice so he could kiss you without worrying about the taste of alcohol. He notices how you gave your lifestyle a 180° turn: from being an adventurer to staying at home a bit more, enjoying the walks around the winery, or to the city and back, sometimes lingering a bit more because you couldn't contain your adventurous spirit.

But he notices the most important things. He notices how you usually stop to play a bit with the children of Mondstadt who asks you to play with them. He notices how you carefully and lovingly tend Bennett's wounds and how you feel terrible when you make his wound hurt while you chant a string of 'sorry''s.

He also notices the way your ring shines under the moonlight and decides to take the matter with his own hands.

He gets up and goes near you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You jolt a bit before your hand goes to caress his nape. "Did you finish?" You ask with that soft voice that always soothes him to sleep and the one he could spend hours listening to it non-stop.

He nods. "I've been thinking, my love..." He starts. "Would you like to... start a family? Like... have kids?" He finally asks.

You turn around to look at him in the eye. The light shine in his eyes showing you how much he wanted to.

"You want to have kids with me?" You ask.

"Yes. Without a doubt, yes." He tells you and it doesn't take you long to kiss him deeply. A silent answer for his question.

[...]

"Haah... NghHn, Dil-!" You moan, the headboard of your shared bed slamming against the wall as he ruts himself into your overly-used cunt, fucking his three previous loads into you while he chants how this is the last one. Just what he said two loads ago.

"One more, sweetheart..." He pants, licking from your collarbone to your neck to leave a hickey there. "Gotta make sure -fuck- my pretty wife takes my seed. Gonna get this belly round and big with my baby... our baby, yeah?" He grunts, folding you in half as he keeps pounding into you faster.

You nod with glassy eyes, feeling dizzy as you moan loudly and roll your eyes back, tightening around him.

"Come for me, doll..."

He leans down into you, hiding in the crook of your neck to kiss it softly, leaving one or two hickeys on the way.

You grab his cheeks and kiss him, moaning into his mouth as you coat his whole shaft in your slick before he throbs inside you and stills his hips against yours cumming deep inside you.

"... I promise this is the last one." He says before he starts moving again.

You found out, that night, that your husband can be the biggest liar in the whole Teyvat.

#kinktober #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin impact diluc #genshin diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc smut #diluc x you #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc ragnivindr smut #diluc ragnivindr x you

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lostinforestbound · 6 days

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I can't stop myself because this tiefling has taken over my damn life. Here we go again!

Romantic Rolan Headcanons

Gods, he is so unbelievably nervous when it comes to the romance aspect of dating, but he hides it behind of facade of confidence. He's master of the tower now, he has everything that his partner could possibly want; why doesn't it ever feel like enough?

In the beginning, he overcompensates in fear of messing up everything about the relationship. Lavish gifts, expensive dates, the whole nine yards with his newfound wealth he gained from the tower. It's a bit uncanny.

In all honestly, he figures his partner wants "The Master of Ramazith's Tower", not him. Rolan is a flawed creature who has piles of constant mistakes weighing on him; an utter, helpless fool. Why would anyone want that? No one has ever wanted him before, why now?

When Rolan realizes his partner seems confused and maybe put off by the facade, he thinks the worst things possible. Do they not desire him? Did he already mess things up so early into the relationship? Can he salvage this? Did they fall out of love?

In the beginning, he's not great at communication. It's horrid, even. He doesn't know how to verbalize how he's feeling. His partner would have to teach him as they sit down and talk about this facade he's put up. It will take a while, but they eventually will get his walls down.

I think his love language is complex, but in simpler terms, Quality Time is where I think he leans towards the most. Sitting with them as they read books, reading to them as they settle in bed, going on night walks if nightmares are haunting him, or something as simple as cuddling after a long day. One his absolute favorites is bathing together; the domestic intimacy of it all makes him feel loved and relaxed, especially if his lover washes his hair for him.

He's not the biggest fan of public display of affection, he gets bashful so easily. He'll outright refuse it if his partner tries. He prefers all of it to stay in the private setting. That doesn't stop his tail from winding itself around his lovers leg, though!

While it will take him some time, what ends up being one of his favorite things is eye contact. At first, he couldn't meet them in the eyes at all during vulnerable moments. It was too much. But the first time he finally holds their look properly, he's memorized. There is so much love in their stare, it makes his heart want to burst out of his chest with joy, and he's never been that flustered again.

He'll shout to the ends of Faerun that he's not cuddly but he is a liar. Every night, without fail, he'll at least a hand somewhere on his partner. By the time morning comes, their limbs are tangled with his and he has his face buried in their neck or chest.

Despite Cal being the main chef in the tower, Rolan does know how to cook! Any meal his partner wants, he will make, no question. He would love cooking even more if his partner joined and helped him out. He even has a mental list of all his partners comfort foods, so he can make them whenever they're sick or having a rough day. They wouldn't even have to ask for it, it's sitting in the kitchen already done.

He doesn't like being too vulnerable, so he's mortified when his partner has to shake him out of a nightmare for the first time. He's shaking, sweating, and apologizing. He's scared they'll see him as some weak, fragile thing. But all they do is stay up with him until his racing heart calms down and talk to him. It can be discussed in the morning.

He plans the most wonderful dates! Everything is scheduled in a timely matter every time, and he presents a gift at the beginning of the date every time. Sometimes small, sometimes extravagant if it's a special night. He gets gifts based purely on what he knows about his partner; favorite books, food, drinks, flowers, an outfit they were eyeing a few days ago, he'll get it no matter the cost.

I don't see Rolan as a man who uses a lot of pet names, but I can see him using terms along the lines of "my love" or "dearest". If his partner uses pet names with him though, he wouldn't mind it, just as long as it was in a private setting.

He has the absolute sweetest, longing stare. It can be quite obvious how much he's pining after his partner if you know what to look for. His tail gives so much away, with the way it flicks happily if they come over to kiss him. These stares hold on much longer after he gets himself comfortable with eye contact.

(NSFW Headcanons will be coming next! If you all have your own romantic headcanons for Rolan, please share! I would love to hear them!)

#forest-writes #rolan #bg3 rolan #holy rolan empire #rolan bg3 #rolan x tav #rolan x reader #rolan brainrot #rolanites

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kitthepurplepotato · 4 months

Text

🎄Love letters and mistletoes!🎄

Purple Potato Christmas Special!

~•🥦•~

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x Reader

Genre: One shot - Fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, hint of angst on Izuku’s side (five sentences max)

Summary: With Izuku’s favorite holiday approaching, you decide to give your work partner a present he’ll never forget. Is that a good or a bad thing? - we shall see.

Warnings: Swear words, mention of someone getting hurt, Midoriya is quite depressed at the beginning of the story.

Two more warnings: The story is really fluffy and cute but it’s quite melancholic overall, except the ending!

Also, English isn’t my first language so please be kind! Feel free to send me a message if I messed something up really badly!

If you like the story please check my Master List! 🥦

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” Midoriya Izuku raises his glass of orange juice with a proud smile on his face. “Thank you very much for your hard work, as always. I’m so lucky to have you, guys.”

“Cheers, boss!” Your half-drunk colleague yells, making the whole team and Midoriya giggle with his shenanigans.

There is one thing everyone knows about the “boss”; he’s humble to a fault. Whenever something good happens it’s always his agency who gets the praise; Izuku Midoriya can’t take a compliment to this day and he just makes everything sound like a team effort even though he’s the one doing 95% of the job, saving people back and forth, 7 days a week with no holidays in between but he never even complains once.

Well, not in public. He doesn’t complain to anyone but you and that’s the biggest achievement of your whole life, to be honest.

You started working at Midoriya’s agency when you were twenty; pro hero Deku was already a big name back then. He was just about to open his own agency but he had no idea about the business side of it; you still have no clue how you managed to get this job with your non-existent experience but here you are, five years later, sitting in the massive meeting room now decorated with garlands and string lights, while you look at your favorite companion with nothing but love and respect.

Midoriya Izuku absolutely adores Christmas. He decorates the whole agency every year, usually by himself then brings a ridiculous amount of food for the team to feast on after their working hours which he insists he made by himself, but judging by the seasoning it’s probably Dynamight’s doing who also insists “he has nothing to do with this shit.”

Both of these people are terrible liars, by the way.

This year, you were lucky enough to help Midoriya with the decorations. You couldn’t believe it when he asked you to stay longer with him; he might be the friendliest person in the whole world but when it comes to things like this, he somehow enjoys to do them alone, with no one around, just him and the Christmas music blasting from the speakers as the sun slowly sets in the background.

He was much worse five years ago; he loved to chat around about silly things but he absolutely hated to talk about himself, about his feelings, about his plans, about anything that involved him, really; he always changed the topic to something else (or someone else) as the first personal question left the other person’s mouth. After a while, the team just gave up on Midoriya Izuku and they only talked about themselves with him but you couldn’t ignore the massive bags under the hero’s eyes, nor his self-deprecating words when someone somehow managed to make him talk about something personal; you’ve always found the most ridiculous excuses to stay behind with him, to be next to him, to give him support, even if it’s from far away.

Things have started to change on a gloomy Thursday afternoon; Midoriya’s agency managed to catch a massive villain group but not without a price; one of the sidekicks got gravely injured, barely made it out alive and you knew Midoriya was blaming himself for it.

You were just about to leave for the day when you heard the tiny sniffles coming out of his office; needless to say you threw all your belongings on the floor and ran towards the sound right away.

Midoriya was a mess. His eyes were swollen, tears streaking down his cheeks as he continued typing on the computer, completely ignoring his fickle mental state just so he can do some more work. He didn’t even look up from his screen as you opened the door; he tried to school the scowl on his face, he really did, but it was all in vain - he couldn’t hide his red-rimmed eyes or the bags under it.

“Hey, your shift is over, go home. Enjoy your evening, Y/N, I’ll be out myself in a second.”

Lies.

“I’ll wait for you then.” You sat down on the sofa right next to his desk, faking obliviousness.

The silence was awkward, but somehow Midoriya could sense that you wouldn’t leave even if he would have insisted for you to do so, so he nodded to no one in particular and continued his paperwork, continued the sniffling and then finally, the tears came and none of you said a single word about it.

Not until Midoriya Izuku finally broke.

“I should have been there. I should have saved him from that blow…” He muttered to the screen in front of him. You’ve never seen him so heartbroken before and it broke your heart, you could hear it shatter on the floor as you looked up to see the young, Number One hero who’s usually so full of energy and positive thoughts crouching by the computer with nothing but pure blankness in his eyes.

“You were on the other side of the battlefield. I checked the footage already. You can’t save everyone, Midoriya. No human being can, not even All Might.” You whispered into the silence. “She’s okay, by the way. It was a close call but she’ll be fine. Your quick response saved her life. You are not the reason for her suffering. You are the reason she’s still alive.”

Midoriya looked at you like this is the first time he’s seen you for real; your voice was raw, much deeper than your usual work-voice but apparently it was the right choice to show your real self to him because after this, something changed; his walls started to crack as he looked up at you, vulnerable and raw.

“Why are you here, Y/N?” Midoriya asked, but there was no malice in his voice; it was quite the opposite actually; it felt like Midoriya has opened up a bit, let you see the broken pieces inside him then he let you choose if you want to stay or leave.

“Because I really want to hug you.”

Midoriya’s walls shattered completely in only a few seconds after that. You wanted to share his pain and your wish was granted; Midoriya couldn’t stop the tears anymore, his cry loud and incoherent as he meandered over and sat down next to you. His head landed on your shoulders with a loud thump and he cried and cried, for a few minutes or hours, you have no idea but eventually, the sobs subdued and there was silence, a really comfortable one at that. Your fingers raked through the messy, unwashed curls as Midoriya finally let himself fall asleep in your arms, probably for the first time in the last 48 hours.

Something shifted around you two after that. You didn’t need to ask what’s wrong anymore; if you stayed longer for no reason Midoriya took it as an invite to went, talked about his life, about his problems, no fake smiles, just words and incoherent mumbles as Izuku let out everything that has been bothering him during the day in one go.

It was quite a surprise to see Midoriya’s “ugly” side; you didn’t think he had so much hatred in him, mostly towards himself, you didn’t think he could get so offended by stupid things like the comment section on his Instagram profile but the most surprising thing was that somehow, during his rants and smile-free conversations you managed to fall in love with his broken soul and it only got worse once he let you in when things were good as well; his smile came back and it became more real when it was only the two of you in the building and it made the butterflies have a break dance battle in your tummy, it made your chest tighten, and finally, it made your heart beat in a new, strange way and it felt so right yet so wrong at the same time you couldn’t decide what to do with it for years.

You two became close friends after that. Midoriya invited you to come with him every time his friends went out drinking then kept you close and safe until the end of the night, he opened your door for you and didn’t leave until you fell asleep. You were his plus one whenever there was an event he had to attend, casual or business, you stayed at his office and listened to him talk almost every day, but that was all, there was never a sign from him that he wants this to be more than a close, work-related friendship so you’ve never made a move. It’s not like there haven’t been a chance to do so; oh no, there have been several; like the time you two ended up cuddling on his sofa while you watched a movie after a ridiculously busy week. Midoriya’s fingers went up and down your naked arms while you nuzzled into his neck, happy and content and you were so close to leave a tiny kiss there, but you stopped yourself because you felt like… this, whatever this was, was too pure to ruin with your “dirty”, unrequited feelings.

You didn’t think you will ever have a chance and to be honest, you still don’t think so… But there was this one moment, just a few days before, that made you think that maybe, telling him about your feelings wouldn’t be the end of the world and knowing how understanding Midoriya is, he would probably fight for this friendship even if you fuck it all up with your confession.

You two laughed so much during the decorating and it really didn’t feel like overtime; Midoriya’s honest, sweet laughs were much better than the loaded paycheck by the end of the month. It took you guys ages to finish the whole thing so you two ended up crashing on Midoriya’s office sofa after a quick shower in the communal bathroom.

There wasn’t enough space for the two of you to be comfortable so soon enough you ended up cuddling, Midoriya’s thighs halfway down the sofa but somehow, both of you felt content like that, like it was normal, like it was meant to be.

“Y/N, can I ask you a silly question?” Midoriya mumbled, halfway asleep.

“Hm?”

“Have you ever felt like you have everything you’ve ever wanted but somehow, something is still missing? Is it selfish to want more than what you can get… sometimes?” You couldn’t miss the way Midoriya’s hand clenched by your middle as he said that.

“Midoriya, I respect you but all you’ve got is several mental issues and a good job. There is more to life than that.”

Midoriya’s ugly snort was the cutest thing you’ve ever heard in your life.

“Like what?”

“Uhm…” You giggled into Midoriya’s neck. “Puppies. Seeing the world. Learning something new. And uhm… falling in love, maybe…”

“Have you ever been in love, Y/N?” Midoriya asked, and the conversation turned serious. “Is that something you wish for?”

“Only with the right person.” You admitted. “I don’t want to go on blind dates and stuff. I just want… this. Being content. And happy. With someone I respect and adore.”

“Are you happy now?” Midoriya’s voice was right next to your ears but somehow, it sounded so far away; like he’s talking to someone else, to someone watching you two from above, a deity or a guardian Angel.

“Right now? I am.”

~•🥦•~

Being Midoriya’s friend was getting harder and harder every day. The urge to touch, to kiss the fresh scars on his nose were almost unbearable sometimes, especially on the days when Midoriya was hard on himself for no reason whatsoever. Thankfully, most days - now that Christmas was approaching - were filled with Midoriya’s laughter instead of the sound of his heartbroken sniffles.

The first day after decorating the office is always fun; everyone cheers as their eyes meet the thousands of colors swirling around the walls, dread of the early morning long forgotten; the Christmas snacks in the cafeteria makes everyone’s lunch a tiny bit more cheerful - there isn’t a single grumpy person in the whole agency on the first day.

After five years, you kinda got used to this but for you and Midoriya, this was a special day for another reason; it was the first day you two woke up in each other’s arms. Something shifted again, but you had no idea what; everything felt the same but somehow different, like the distance between you and Midoriya got halved, like he was in an arm’s length now, waiting for you to finally reach out but you were quite sure it was only the night before that made it feel like that. Until…

“I also brought some things in if that’s okay!” One of your colleagues spoke up with a shit-eating grin on his face. You love this guy but he’s always up to no good and once you’ve seen the mistletoe hanging right above you, you knew what’s his “mischief of the day” was. “Oh no, it seems like we need to kiss...” The guy couldn’t even finish his sentence properly as suddenly, Midoriya appeared out of thin air, right next to you; he spun you around once, making you laugh with his sudden cheekiness, then twice and you two ended up right under the mistletoe. Midoriya’s cheeky smile made your heart do a somersault in your chest and you swear your heart stopped for a second as Midoriya left a comically loud smack on your cheek and left the room, giggling to himself like a mischievous child. “Dang, boss, you are such a cockblock!” He yelled after his cheeky boss while he laughed - there is no way anyone can be mad at Midoriya when he’s in a good mood. He’s just too adorable.

All you could think of for the rest of the day was how soft Midoriya’s lips were and how much you wanted to taste them.

Maybe it’s time for me to tell him. - you thought to yourself as you came up with a Christmas present idea.

~•🥦•~

“Next Christmas, I want us to thank you for your hard work, not the other way around.” You tell Midoriya as you two take a little break from cleaning out the office after the Christmas celebration. Calling Chargebolt over was a terrible idea - half of the team had to be taken home by a taxi as Chargebolt couldn’t stop refilling their cups while they weren’t looking. Needless to say, you two haven’t drunk at all, knowing that someone will need to make the place habitable again for tomorrow because hero life never ends, not even on Christmas Eve.

“Having you here with me is enough. It’s not fun to clean up alone.” Midoriya gives you that damn smile you can’t get enough of, even though you see it quite often these days. If this feeling inside your chest isn’t love you have no idea what love is. There is no way there’s a stronger feeling than the ache in your heart as you look at the small, barely visible wrinkles by Izuku’s eyes, the beautiful, gorgeous freckles that didn’t fade with age at all - they also make him look 10 years younger than he actually is - this ache in your heart is urging you to touch, to soothe, to please, to make the other happy; it’s painful but it’s also pleasant, a burn that stings but leaves a nice, tingly feeling afterwards.

“Midoriya… actually… Izuku…” You look up at the most important person in your life and he looks back at you with nothing but pure wonder in his eyes.

“Why does it sound like heaven when you say it?” Izuku mutters with a red face but you are too terrified to actually step back and think about his reaction, because this is it - You are just about to confess and ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for.

“I… I have a present for you. You don’t need to accept it. Please, only accept it if you… if you really mean it.” You mumble as you take out a small envelope and give it to him with shaking hands.

It’s so stupid. And so childish. There is no way in hell you can do this in a proper way so you focus on a random scratch on the wooden floor; you can’t look into his eyes while you slowly let your heart out through your mouth just so he can punch it back into your chest and break it into pieces. Not like he would ever would do such a thing, but still.

He looks at the small envelope with a happy smile on his face for a while then finally, he opens it up and starts reading out loud. You really want the ground to open up under you right now.

“Dear Izuku. (I hope you don’t mind me calling you that.) No, I don’t, I like it haha - You won a prize! … what is this, Y/N?” Izuku giggles but the smile slowly disappears from his face. Every second feels like an eternity. It’s like something is choking you but you can’t do anything about it. “It’s a ticket for a one on one Christmas date with Y/N, platonic, or romantic, depending on your… de…cision.” Izuku looks up from the little card with pure confusion written all over his face.

“As I said, you do not need to accept this at all. I have a plan B. But if you do and you decide on the romantic date… I… I must add that the romantic ticket is non-refundable. And it’s not… for one day. Think about it a Christmas puppy. You give it to someone for Christmas but it’s a responsibility for a lifetime. Oh my god, that sounds so stupid, I’m sorry, I can’t do this, please just forget about it and give that back to me…” you try to get the card back but Izuku pulls it away.

“Do you mean it?” Izuku mumbles; you can’t look into his eyes, you can’t, but at the same time you really want to see his face right now, you need to see how he reacts. You look up from the floor for only a second; and that one second turns your whole life upside down.

Izuku’s eyes are full of tears, but somehow, his whole face looks… happy?

“What?” You mumble back, mesmerized by the sparks in Izuku’s eyes. Were they always so beautiful or is it just the magic of Christmas Eve?

“The romantic date… no refunds, for a lifetime… do you mean it?”

“Would I be shaking like a leaf if I wouldn’t? I’m freaking out, Izuku.” Your voice cracks by the end of your sentence, tears prickling your eyes as you try to keep eye contact.

“I also… have a Christmas present for you.” He mutters, not answering your question which is an answer itself. You know Izuku well enough to know what he means by dodging a question; he’s been doing that for a whole year before you two became friends and you hate how much it hurts to be on the receiving side again, especially in this situation. It was so stupid for you to do this on Christmas Eve. You ruined the holiday for you both and Izuku has been so excited about it and now every year, he’ll think about your stupid confession and how you ruined the only holiday he genuinely enjoys…

“Here. Please, read it. I want to see your face when you get to the end of it.” Midoriya gives you that damned smile again; the smile you love so much and it’s so out of place in this situation but somehow, it gives you hope; it makes you believe that maybe you didn’t ruin your friendship nor the holiday completely and this can be salvaged after all. “Please.” He repeats as he gives you a cute letter, steadying your shaky hands with his own; the feeling of Izuku’s rough fingertips on the back of your hands almost makes you yelp out loud but after a few deep breaths you school your face into something neutral and start reading.

“Dear Y/N. Getting a silly little letter from me must not have been on your bucket list but I hope at least it will make you feel happy. We’ve been close friends for four years now and knew each other five. I think about you as one of the most important people in my life and the feeling only got stronger and stronger as the days has passed and at one point, my feelings got out hand and wandered to an unknown path and it took me literal years to realize what they really mean, so I’m sorry if this letter is a little bit too late.” You need to take a deep breath. This letter sounds suspiciously like a love letter but Izuku has always been an emotional person so maybe, this is his way of telling you he thinks about you as family? “The first thing that made me wonder about my feelings was that… I love to touch you. I love to keep you close. I enjoy being with you alone more than I enjoy sharing a drink with you in a pub when my friends are around. The second thing was that somehow, over the years you got prettier in my eyes - you’ve always been pretty, don’t get me wrong but my eyes got caught on certain things a friend’s shouldn’t; your lips, your cheekbones, on the way your hair flies in the wind and small things like that. Then the third and final thing was only a few days ago; on the first day of our Christmas extravaganza when someone was about to kiss you under the mistletoe.

All I could think of was that… I want you to be mine.”

Your heart is having a hard time and so is your mind. This can’t be real. There is no way this happening right now…?!

“Izuku?!”

“Just continue.” Izuku smiles at you, his eyes full of affection. He moves his hands to your middle once he deemed you strong enough to be able to hold a single piece of paper and you can feel the twitch in the movement as he struggles to not pull you close and you can’t believe you’ve missed the sighs until now; Izuku looks at you like you are the prettiest star on the sky, like you are the reason the sun shines above you and it’s so endearing yet so natural… this moment, here, right now, at 10PM on a cold and dark Sunday evening… this moment was written in the starts thousands of years ago, you can feel it in your heart, in your soul, fucking everywhere.

“We cried, we laughed, we cheered, we mourned; we did all of these together but now it’s time for the next adventure - if you are up for it, of course.” You can’t stop sniffling as you get to the end of the letter. “So your Christmas present… is my heart. Because it’s all yours. It always has been. Is it even a present if it was yours for so long already? Great question. I think it’s the thought that counts.

Dear, Y/N. I love you. From the bottom of my heart to the tip of my toes.

Yours Sincerely;

Midoriya Izuku.”

There isn’t a proper word or a proper sentence to describe what you are feeling right now. You want to cry and laugh at the same time, you want to break down but you also want to stand tall and proud because your feelings just got reciprocated.

“We came up with the same silly idea, Y/N. If that’s not a sign then I don’t know what it is.” Izuku laughs as he finally pulls you close. “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” Izuku’s voice is so childish and so giddy you can’t help but laugh. He rests his forehead on yours and takes a deep breath; it’s all so new and so strange yet it feels so right, just so-so perfect it makes your heart melt into a puddle on Izuku’s office floor.

“You mean it?” You parrot his own words back to him with a cheeky smile which ends up much bigger than you wanted it to be; Izuku’s hold gets tighter and tighter around your middle, the distance almost non-existent between you two now.

“Can I kiss you now? Because I really really want to kiss you now.” Izuku mumbles, completely ignoring your cheeky retort. You do your best to make an offended face but it’s extremely hard to concentrate while Izuku’s breath tickles your lips.

“You are so impatient, Izuku, I haven’t even answered yet.” You giggle to yourself, your lips already touching Izuku’s, but only a tiny bit, it’s more like a tease than an actual touch. “Where’s the mistletoe, then?” You add cheekily and Izuku doesn’t say a word to that; his hand wanders to your face and caresses your cheek with his thumb then gently moves your chin up to look at the ceiling right above you; you notice that the mistletoe your colleague brought in is clumsily stuck to the ceiling with… tape. You can’t help but roll your eyes while Izuku’s happy laughter fills the office as he slowly moves back into your personal space and finally steals a kiss from you.

First, the kiss is tentative and slow, one peck then two then three; Izuku grins between the small kisses and suddenly something shifts; he barges back with more fervor, the kiss deep and scorching hot but Izuku can’t stop smiling so it’s also a little bit awkward but somehow it’s still the most perfect kiss you’ve ever had.

“I love Christmas.” Izuku kisses you again. “And you.”

“I love you too, you grumpy, adorable fucking nerd.” You finally deepen the kiss properly; you take his bottom lips in yours and suck on it, making Izuku yelp with the sudden action. It doesn’t take him long to take revenge though; he licks over your lip then barges into your mouth, his tongue having a slow dance with your own, his body flush against yours as you slowly kiss away the remaining two hours until the clock hits midnight and you two freak out over the mess you still need to clean up before the new day starts, but not even the lateness of the day nor the grimy work can ruin your mood as you two slowly get the building tidy until every surface sparkles under the shine of the rising sun.

“You should have just asked the cleaning crew to clean this up in the morning.” You mumble into Izuku’s ear as you two try to have at least two hours of sleep on the small sofa before the day starts.

“Well yeah, but then I wouldn’t have had an excuse to ask you to stay for longer.” He admits sheepishly. You can’t believe this man.

“I fucking love you, you silly nerd.”

The end

Extra:

“Fucking finally!” Katsuki’s voice blasts through the speakers. You are not even surprised that Katsuki is the first person Izuku tells about the news, barely a few hours after you two got together. Also, he’s video-calling, because apparently, calling someone like a normal person is too ‘impersonal’. “You two, my place, tonight. We are having fucking Katsudon, thank the motherfucking gods above I don’t need to listen to you moaning about your unrequited fucking love anymore! Shitty hair! We need booze!” Katsuki yells to his half asleep flatmate. “Deku finally grew some balls! Also, you owe me 10000 yen!”… then he ends the call without even saying bye.

“Will we ever have a good sleep ever again?” You mumble to Izuku and his two massive Gucci bags under his eyes.

“No. Mum’s celebration will last a whole week. I hope you are not on a diet by the way, she loves to force feed people.” He smiles at you and …honestly? You don’t need any sleep if you can keep staring into those beautiful sparkling eyes full of love and affection instead.

“I can’t wait.”

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- Reader: writes a stupid note about Deku winning a date with her

Deku: Writes a full on essay about his feelings

Also Deku: Wow it’s the same!

Honestly Y/N, that present was so cringe, did you even try? 😂😂😂😂 💜

- There is one thing I realized while I was writing this: I hate one-shots. I don’t think I’ll ever do one ever again. They always feel so empty and rushed even if I try to put as much information as I can into it. I like to take my time with this stuff, show the audience how the two characters ended up in love with each other… so yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever do a holiday special ever again haha

- Sorry for all the folks waiting for the next chapters of my ongoing series, I absolutely hyperfixated on this one and I also knew I won’t be able to be on time with those two thanks to the Christmas rush in retail (bro, I’m dead) so I kinda gave up. They’ll be coming soon I swear!

- I hope you guys have a lovely Christmas or whatever holiday you guys enjoy around this time! I’m not a big Christmas person myself but I do like a good Christmas-themed fanfiction :D

If you liked this story, send me a lovely comment and check out my Master List! 💜

Merry Christmas, everyone! 🎄

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya x y/n #midoriya x you #midoriya izuku x reader #pro hero deku x reader #deku x reader #midoriya izuku x you #midoriya izuku x y/n

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digitaldiarystuff · 4 months

Text

Bad Liar Pt.2

note: hello, it’s me (read it in adele voice) thank you so much for the likes it makes me want to write more enjoyy

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summary: you are in a long time situationship with pedri and you’re falling more and more everyday hoping he feels the same

pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Y/N

genre: pure angst

————

You spent the night bawling your eyes out and hugging your best friend for some support. After a couple of hours your tears started drying and you ran a bath to collect your thoughts. Okay, let’s look at the facts, you’ve been around Pedri for months and never noticed a hint of a girlfriend. Sure you weren’t spending every hour of every day but he stayed at your place once or twice a week and you never even saw him pick a phone call with a girl, sometimes you noticed him focused on his phone brows furrowed answering some texts and yeah you thought maybe he was messing around with someone else but never had the courage to ask about it and honestly after a while, you started trusting him. Trusting him seemed like the biggest mistake you’ve ever done. You believed what you had was special and he was in this with you. What a fool you were.

After the shower you just put on some pajamas and went to lie on your bed but before you could even sit down your mind went back to the morning, how he was sleeping like an angel next to you in this bed. Tears were rolling from your eyes uncontrollably. Realizing you couldn’t bear to sleep there you decided to let your friend crash in your room and took the couch instead. She tried arguing but didn’t press too much. She knew you needed space. After some more crying you let sleep take over.

The morning after wasn’t any better, you woke up crying and picked up your phone to see if there was any notifications from him, you hated how weak you were over someone not worthy but you couldn’t be strong right now. The only thing that could heal you was him and he broke your heart to a million pieces. Just thinking about last night made your stomach turn and you ran to the bathroom to vomit, it was your body’s reaction to everything that happened over the last 12 hours, how turned upside down your life was.

He hadn’t texted you, not even a sorry or can we talk. It was like he forgot about you all together. You had a million questions. How long was this going on, did you mean anything to him, who was she, why did she post him last night, did she know about you?

Your friend’s first suggestion was to make him pay, share all his business with the whole world and destroy his quiet shy and kind guy image but she knew you’d never do that, even he’d know you wouldn’t. Then she said the next best action would be to ask him straight up, you could also ask the girl but you don’t think you can handle that confrontation. You’re too angry to do that.

“What should I even say?” you ask her desperately.

“Just say meet me at mine. Don’t make it obvious that you know.”

“What if she’s with her.”

“Oh I hope she’s with her.”

“No, what if he doesn’t respond or says no?”

“Then we go over there.” she answered nonchalantly and shrugged “What? Don’t you think he deserves it?”

“I do, I really do but I’m not confident enough for any big fight.”

“You have to do this or your inner thoughts will eat you up.” you knew she was right.

to PG: can you come to my house?

from PG: i can’t busy day

to PG: okay then just come tonight

from PG: busy again, i’ll tell you when i’m free

You were getting more upset by the second, he didn’t even respect to enough to have a decent conversation with you. He must know how you felt because you never hid it and still, he just didn’t care.

to PG: it’s either you come to me right now or i’ll come to yours to meet your girlfriend

from PG: be there in 30

So that’s how he wanted to play.

Soon after the text you hugged your friend goodbye and started waiting for him and even though you weren’t proud about this, you changed and applied some light makeup. You didn’t want him to see how he broke you. As soon as you heard the knock, you looked at yourself once more and opened it allowing him to come in. You were staring into his soul with a newly found bravery while he averted his eyes. He couldn’t even look at you.

“I’m gonna get some water, do you want anything?” he asked and you were shocked at how he tried to make this normal.

“Sit down Pedro.” he was shocked as you used his name, you’ve never called him Pedro but calling him Pedri wasn’t an option to you anymore.

He said nothing and plopped down on the couch.

“Talk.” you ordered.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“You could start by explaining.”

“Look I’m sorry if you feel some type of way about it but honestly I don’t get why you’re this upset.” you just stared at him in shock. How could he try to minimize the situation?

“What do you mean you don’t understand. You have a girlfriend and I don’t even know for how long, you played me and you’re here trying to say it’s nothing. How can you be so calm right now?” you ask agitated.

“Y/N we both said we didn’t want commitment.”

“Yeah because you already had one, to your girlfriend!” you yelled.

“Pedro how could you keep this from me? If I had known I would’ve never been with you, you don’t love me that’s fine I can live with that but how can you sit there and disrespect your relationship disrespect me? Do you really don’t care at all? After we spent months together, after you confessed to me that I’m the only one you could confide in and trust fully and I shouldn’t have trusted you for a second. Don’t you see how wrecked I am, do you not care about me one bit?” you ask fully crying now. His nonchalance is far worse than anything you could imagine.

“Look, we’ve been on again off again for a year now and I never mentioned it to you because when I was with you, it was off and I didn’t want to talk about it.” he finally showed some emotion and it was annoyance but it’s better than nothing.

“You’re still lying to me. If you were on and off why were you in bed with me twice a week? Does your relationship end that quickly? You cheated on her with me and used me. I never asked to be a part of this, I even wanted to end things early on when I realized I had feelings for you but you didn’t accept it. You came to my door, asking for my forgiveness Pedro. You begged me to take you back and I have, if you really only used me why try to win me back, was it all a game? Did you have fun did you laugh at me?”

“No it wasn’t a game I just, I couldn’t lose you, I knew then and there I just couldn’t but I didn’t know how to explain it and the longer I waited the harder it got. I even tried to get you to leave me but I couldn’t leave you. She was away all the time and you became my rock and I got used to waking up next to you and being with you. Last night she came all of a sudden saying she’s moving here permanently and I just” he sighed and you could see tears forming in his eyes “I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry for everything.”

You looked at him and even though you were so heartbroken, you realized maybe this was the last time you got to speak to him.

“Last night I asked to meet up because I was ready to tell you how I felt, I was going to confess my feelings and ask you a question I was dying to ask.”

He looked up at you fidgeting with your fingers, having difficulty breathing.

“What was it?”

“I was going to ask you if you love me.” you whispered.

His gaze turned to his hands on his knees.

“I would’ve said yes.” his voice was so low you almost didn’t hear him.

“But you can’t today, can you?” you found the courage to look up at him again, already knowing the answer. His mind was made up, if he was going to break up with her, he could’ve done it yesterday but he didn’t. They were a happy, throughly messed up couple and you were nothing more than a side chick.

“I’m sorry.” he said while getting up. “I just, I never wanted to hurt you.” he came in front of you and kneeled down to hold eye contact.

“I’m sorry I’m so sorry” he repeated again and again crying and tried holding your hands. You couldn’t even look at him because you would’ve held his hands and calmed him down. This is the first time he’s full on crying next to you and all you wanted to do is console him, be his anchor but you can’t.

“Please look at me.”

“I can’t, after knowing everything I can’t look at you.” you said. You gazed at your hands covered by his and tried your best to not break.

“What I said to you was never a lie, I never lied about my feelings to you.” he confessed.

“So I should believe you love me when you couldn’t even tell me you had a relationship. It can’t be true if you’re here telling me you’re going back to her. If you loved me just one bit, you’ll let me go Pedro. I can’t be in a situation where I’ve been lied to for months and can’t even trust you.” you said still not looking up.

“I understand.” he said not moving. He didn’t stand up just stood by your knees and held your hand as both of you cried some more.

“I think you should go”

He started getting up but sat next to you on the couch

“Can I hug you goodbye?” he asked in a childlike manner. You said nothing so he decided it was okay. You actually didn’t say anything because you needed his affection one last time. This was wrong but you needed him as much as he needed you. Pedri embraced you in his arms and you put your arms around his neck. You sat there entangled in each other for a few minutes until your mind screamed let go so you did but as he was backing up he held your tear stained cheeks and pressed his lips against yours for the last time and you let him. You couldn’t fight it, you just enjoyed his lips on yours and after that he was gone.

Pedri will always be your the one that got away.

————

note: omg i’m gonna cry at how sad it happened but this relationship is nowhere near ending so if you’re interested please share with me your thoughts and opinions about the story luvs

ALSO, should this story have a good or a bad ending i’m so conflicted please helpp

#football #football imagine #football oneshot #football x you #football x y/n #football x reader #football blurb #football angst #pedri gonzalez #pedri angst #pedri blurb #pedri x y/n #pedri x you #pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri one shot #football one shot #fc barcelona

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dojunie · 1 year

Text

MESSENGER; HRJ [PT 4: COFFEE VS TEA]

➥ PART 4 OF MESSENGER; a small smau about a stranger, a whole lot of animal pics, and a relationship you would never have expected to come from texting a random number written on a public bathroom mirror.

➥ WC: 1.7K

[PREVIOUS PART] [INFO/MASTERLIST] [NEXT PART]

a/n: first written bit! lets see if i like this formatting in an hour and if not pretend you dont see me changing shit around 💪

current tl: @matchahyuck @theboyz-jacob @hoeshi17 @neoteez01 @hibernatinghamster @luvvsnae @shwizhies @skynightgalaxy @ihrtnyu @kunvibing @liliansun @txpxwxk @is4b3ll3s @rxnexxi @rum-gone-why @she-is-dreaming

THE LINE RINGS FOR ABOUT TWO ENTIRE SECONDS BEFORE EVERYTHING GOES VERY, VERY QUIET— And it’s only within that silence that you seem to realize that you might’ve just done something… weird.

Thoughtlessness was what had you pressing that call button (or maybe there was thought behind it; just the type that tired, sleep deprived, stupid people would have). Regret hits you like a brick when all your brain's neurons finally seem to reconnect. What the hell are you doing? You don’t know this guy! You don’t even know his name— not to mention that he doesn’t know yours! And somehow, before common sense caught up to you, you thought it was the logical next step to call him?

You’re stood in front of your desk with your headphones in your ears probably looking crazy as you stare at the screen, thoughts in sudden overdrive trying to figure out how to ‘Oops, butt dial!' your way out this— when it stops ringing.

Now connecting, Duck Boy.

“…Hello?”

Oh.

Your spine stiffens nearly upright at the sound of his voice. His... voice. Him. Duck Boy. Who once only existed in your mind as a selfie and a few bossy-yet-endearing texts, and now you’ve got a selfie, some texts, and a voice.

Christ, why is your mind spinning like you’ve just unearthed some sort of incredible clue? It’s not like there’s anything stopping you from just asking him to meet up or something since this stupid mystery game is really only being perpetuated by you— but still, you find yourself overanalyzing the single word, the surprisingly low drawl of his tone (his voice is much, much deeper than you thought it would be), even the clarity of his speech and diction.

However. Again—and you can’t even blame the exhaustion for this because you feel wide awake now— you do something weird.

Too busy marveling over how he sounds, you completely forget to respond.

“Mystery girl…?” Duck Boy says again, startling you. “If you’re doing this to keep me awake, I’ve got to say— still kind of falling asleep over here.”

“M’was— Headphones,” you blurt. A lie. Your headphones have been in your ears for about two hours now as you worked on your architecture project, but he did not need to know that. “Was putting in my headphones. Hi.”

“…Hi.”

A shuffling on the line, like he's sitting up or shifting or something, and then he laughs a little bit in the ensuing silence. “You called me and broke your coveted mystique just to tell me hi?”

“No. I’m distracted. I'm... making tea. You don’t appreciate my hello?”

God. Three more lies. At least it’s not for long because this, plus the slight embarrassment washing under your skin, jumpstarts you into turning on your heel and darting into the kitchen.

“I didn’t say that,” he hums. “You sure like putting words in my mouth. I meant, because you called me all gung-ho like, I was expecting a little more than a greeting. A quiz, or something. A game plan.”

“I have a plan.”

Holy shit, in the span of fifteen seconds you’ve turned into the biggest liar in the world. What plan? You hadn’t even fully recognized you were calling him until he picked up! “It’s twenty questions. The ultimate stay-awake game. I’ll ask such thoughtful questions that your brain will start to steam in that airport.”

This seems to catch him off guard; He snorts a laugh, a loud, pretty sound that you assume is immediately muffled because he’s in public. You’d been in the middle of setting a kettle on the stove when you heard it, and couldn’t help but smile a little widely in triumph. You made him laugh. Cool.

“Is that so?” he snickers.

Slightly loosened up now, you shrug. “Of course. Let’s open it up with something easy. Coffee— or tea? There is a right answer.”

“How is there a right answer if you’re asking me what I like?”

“Between coffee and tea, of course there’s a right answer. One is good, crafted from nature and angels and all that is pure; a perfectly warm drink that soothes illness and brings joy to those young and old. And the other one is bitter and evil and rhymes with moffy.”

He laughs again. Shit. Should you consider becoming a comedian? Is this weird giddiness how they all feel when they get people to laugh?

“I’m sure you’ve probably just never had good coffee,” he tries, “It’s not all bitter—“

“Are you putting forth your vote? Coffee? The devil’s choice of beverage?”

“No! You’re annoying. I like both.”

“That’s not the question I asked you, Duck Boy.”

You don’t even realize you’ve called him the name you refer to him as in your head. It slips out easily, a product of ease and amusement and familiarity— which is surprising to say when you’ve only been talking to this guy for a few minutes— but he doesn’t even seem to phase himself, only groaning as you badger him for an answer.

“Is it illegal to like both?” he asks finally, feigning hastiness. “Different occasions. Coffee to wake me up, tea to cool me down. Next question.”

“Don’t get too hasty, because the next question is in the same vein. What do you eat with your tea or coffee? Snack wise?”

“I would say I like bread with both,” he says confidently. “Like croissants? I really like croissants.”

“Something must be wrong with you.”

“What—“ You almost hear how he sits up, immediately affronted. “Hey!”

“Bread? Like just… straight bread? Yeast and egg and flour? With something as bitter as coffee, you’re not even going to have a donut or something? Lord, not even a muffin?”

“I don’t care for sweets! What do you like then, since you’re apparently the chooser of everything good?”

You lean against the counter, absentmindedly watching your kettle as you sigh theatrically, stretching like someone would before they run a marathon or swim a thousand meters. “You’re asking the wrong person this question,” you warn. “I could spend the next hour talking about snack combinations. Chamomile tea and banana nut muffins, a slice of frosted lemon cake with a taaaaall mug of double-steeped Earl Gray. I’m something of a savant in my field, you know. I might have to make you sign an NDA to protect my trade secrets.”

Duck Boy scoffs but you’re pleased to hear what sounds like a hidden smile— maybe even a grin.

“Consider it signed,” he says. There’s another shift, a sound like fabric rustling, and then he sighs as if he’s just made himself comfortable; which, in an airport terminal seat, must be a fruitless effort. “I have nothing but time, Mystery Girl.”

Your tea was pretty great, all things considered. A London Fog with two teabags instead of one, a capful of vanilla essence to sweeten, milk and sugar— the perfect wind-down drink. It was no wonder then, when you returned to your room and found yourself heading for your bed instead of returning to the desk to continue your insidious diorama floor plan project, that your eyelids started to get a little heavy about fifteen minutes into twirling your finger around the headphone wire while talking with Duck Boy. You have been up for the last day after all, class and practice and studying, and tea at this hour always ends up knocking you on your ass after about half an hour.

The sudden onset tiredness isn’t helped by the fact that talking to him is so easy, either.

It’s effortless. Who would have thought that the guy who routinely scolds you through text, periods and capitals and perfect grammar everywhere, could actually crack a few good jokes? It’s his dry humor that gets you, a deadpan delivery that had nearly made you spill hot tea on yourself three times; but you made him bark a laugh so loud at one point that he got the evil-eye from an airline attendant, so the scoreboard’s still in your favor.

Whether or not he can hear the sleepy lull in your voice through the phone, you’re not sure. He does seem to take the reins on question-asking though. Little things like your favorite color, musical genre, if you’re a homebody or the type to always be out and about. It’s a lot of good information (more than you ever thought you’d learn about some guy you dialed on a whim three weeks ago) which is why you’re a little salty that you had to go and fall asleep in the middle of all of it.

The last question you remembered had been after a small quiet, a breath of time where your eyes had been closed and he’d been humming, contemplating what to ask next.

Your tea was finished. Your laptop had timed out a long time ago which meant your room was only being lit by the kitchen light outside, a small sliver of warm white light.

“Do you— Do you do any extracurriculars? On campus?”

“Mystery breach,” you’d mumbled belatedly, attempting and failing to blink the bleariness from your eyes. “Look at you, trying to sneak that question in there. You already got to see me first. Now you want to know where to find me on campus, too?”

Immediately he flustered, stumbling for a response like you’d somehow managed to hit the nail on the head, but in your state you didn’t think to look further into it. “I’m kidding. At this point I’d probably give you my SSN if you asked for it. I play volleyball for the school, if that counts? I was on debate club in freshman year but I got kicked out for agreeing with my opponents too much.”

A beat, like he was mulling over this information, and then, “You? Agree with someone? That’s interesting, considering how much it seems you like to argue with me...”

“You’re different,” you yawned. “Very different. Being forced to debate with people I barely know on topics I don’t care about kind of sucks. But I actually like talking to you.”

“Oh,” he said. “…Is that so?”

"Right," you laughed and closed your eyes one last time. “I would never lie to my dickpic buddy.”

[A LITTLE WHILE LATER]

a/n: pls leave a like if you enjoyed! it motivates me to work on this every time i see a notification about it LOL

[PREVIOUS PART] [INFO/MASTERLIST] [NEXT PART]

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reneewalkersknives · 9 months

Note

about your tags, i havent watched black sails but im nosy, how does flint end up living?

Hi, that’s a loaded question as whether he DOES actually live is up for debate. Basically a famously unreliable narrator, storyteller and liar, John Silver tells a “nice” story abt how he betrayed him but didn’t kill him and in fact reunited him with his “dead” lover in an English prison/labour camp. Problem with this happy ending is that flint’s character (and a lot of the story as a whole really) is centered around fighting against English rule. Flint is a radical who dedicated his life to harming and overthrowing the empire/ colonial rule, as he was branded a “monster” and betrayed by his father figure (an English navy man) for being gay and in a relationship with his “dead” lover.

He was exiled for that crime which then led to him becoming a pirate to seek revenge which eventually leads to him becoming a radical figure and connecting with other radicals. The last we’re 100% sure we see of flint is Silver betraying him and pointing a gun at him. Silver tells Madi,the woman he loves and another radical leader whom he betrayed that flint got a happy ending at the prison camp and his lover (who has been firmly dead since years before the show even took started) was miraculously alive.

Personally I like to believe that Silver just killed Flint (as fucked up as it sounds, I know) bc I believe flint living out the rest of his life betrayed, trapped under English rule and punishment is a much bigger tragedy than his death would be and I think flint would be happier to be dead than alive in a labour camp. It sounds bad I know but when u watch the show he is very passionate in his hatred for England, his refusal to apologise or be pardoned by them, his determination to overthrow them and get revenge and I don’t think even getting his dead lover back could ever change that. (Probably the Irish in me speaking too lol)

Anyways one of the biggest themes of the show is storytelling, lying and performing to create certain narratives and mythos. In the final episode of show one of the main characters (whom is obsessed w creating his own legacy) states “a story is true, a story is untrue, as time extends it matters less and less. The stories we want to believe, those are the ones that survive” which is basically confirmation that both interpretations of flint’s ending are valid and it allows you to choose your personal favourite:)

Sorry this was so long winded lol I just have a LOT of black sails thoughts

#black sails #james flint #ask

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akixxsstuff · 19 days

Text

Monster

Death Note L Lawliet x gender neutral reader

Fluff // Angst // One shot

Summary: You and your boyfriend L get your hands on a lie detector test and decide to mess around with it during a date night. L is hooked up first and you ask him what his biggest fear is.

"What's your biggest fear?" you ask.

L pasues for a moment.

"Monsters. Especially ones who lie, their cunning and pose as humans even though they have no understanding of the human heart; they seek friendship even though they do not know how to love. If I was to encounter such a monster, I would likely be eaten by them... because in truth, I am that monster".

(Actual quote from L).

The lie detector remains still, there was no change in heart beat, breathing or sweat levels. L was telling the truth.

"You are cunning, very cunning and because of that you're afraid of other liars because as one, you know how far they'll go to manipulate. You lie because you don't see anything wrong with it because you've repressed emotions like love and empathy. You've been isolated your whole life so you haven't had the chance to learn how to love".

"But you do have a strong understanding of why and how others feel since you constantly put yourself in the shoes of criminals, you can't predict their next move without determining how they feel".

"You didn't have to date me to learn the various ways you could take advantage of me, so why be with me? Now all that you can gain from our relationship is love, so why would you be with me if you didn't care about love?".

"We've been together for almost a year and a half and you've really changed. You're more upfront with your emotional needs, you've become more giving and are now brave enough to explore intimacy".

"Maybe you were a monster before, but I know you aren't anymore. I'm 100 percent sure if it".

L slowly raises from his chair and places his hand on your cheek, lovingly stroking it with his thumb. Tears were now trickling down his face, this was the first time you've seen L cry. He then collapses into your lap and starts sobbing.

You spent the last year and half searching for L's heart and finally managed to find it despite how deep it was within him. You had now completely ripped it out of his chest which is something L's hands never had the strength to do.

"I-I...I" L chokes, "You're so precious too me, I can't believe...thank you for saving me, for loving me. I don't d-deserve you Y/N".

"Lawliet..." You softy quiver.

"I understand if you say no...but trust me when I say that I'll never ask anyone else this question" L says looking up at you.

"Tell me baby" you coo with tears welling up.

"Marry me... please...I never want... Please don't ever leave me" L cries.

"I would only leave a monster".

#l lawliet #fluff #angst #fanfic #death note #x reader #gender neutral y/n

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yappix · 26 days

Note

I need to be awake in three hours but I'm just thinking of this

Like, Aimsey right. I have many many problems with them. But my biggest problem is how they try to paint themselves as this huge advocate for queer people, women and mental health to their audience

And yet they shit on Dream. If you're truly going to be an advocate for any of this, talk about the biggest victim of homophobia in your own community. Sure Drean doesn't get called slurs every day (that's an Uber exclusive ✨️) but at the end of the day, the reason Dream gets treated like that is because he himself is queer and he welcomes a queer female audience with open arms

But no, Aimsey just uses him and and the rest of dteam as punching bags. They see them as less. Aimsey can not and will never be a truly safe space until they acknowledge what Dream has been through and the role they played to help perpetuate it. Aimsey proves the whole thing about how people's queerness is judged on morality

Dream is the biggest victim mcyt has ever witnessed and yet all they see is a villain. Congrats the right wing smear campaign worked.

Aimsey and the rest of the Brighton bastards can tout all they want about how they want to support victims and queer people and marginalized communities but until they're able to see past their own biases and accept the blatant hate they've helped spread, they will never be that. They will be two-faced liars who only accept you when it's to no harm them. As soon as they have to make themselves uncomfortable for your rights and comfort, all they give is scorn

Associating with Dream is hard, it is let's not kid ourselves. Even as fans it can be difficult and most fans feel like they have to hide when they're out in the real world. But that's precisely why it's so important that anyone who claims to be all for marginalized people is also willing to show support for Dream

That also goes to Catelyn. She called George out happily without hearing his side of the story but it was crickets when it came to punz.

This goes to Sniff who was all to eager to tear Dream down and share Andi's story but has been deathly silent on every other matter. This goes to Rue who in the midst of people reeling over what was found out about Wilbur took the opportunity and painted Dream as an enabler when he was simply in the room. This goes to all of them, every single one who can't keep Dream’s name out of their mouth as the general public slowly forgets theirs

And it goes to their fans too. Their fans who happily alienate and ostracize Dream fans on the basis of us enjoying our silly little guys. They who blindly believe every awful word that's thrown Dream’s way without wondering what he did to be called that and never question why they're so eager to hate him

I mention Dream the most because he's undeniably the center of all this, but neither George nor Sapnap are safe from this either

It frustrates me to no end because they're so incredibly preformative. Dream never outright says go support victims, but every month he quietly donates to a charity in support of victims

He doesn't try and claim he's an advocate for queer people, he just exists and fosters a community where you can be openly about that. He also designs delightfully subtle pride merch. He doesn't claim he's an advocate for mental health, but he occasionally mentions his own struggles as a teen and how he got through it and tells us it'll be okay even if it doesn't feel that way or he'll say yeah I'm medicated now and it helps

He isn't loud about any of this. He just quietly makes it known his thoughts and feelings in small ways that resonate deeply with his audience.

He's not an advocate, he's just someone who when accused of something decided to try and do something good while clearing his name. He's not an advocate, he's a queer person that exists. He's not an advocate, he's just a young adult who struggled in his younger years.

He's not an advocate but he's made his space a safe one regardless of who and what you are.

I got severely off topic and rambled sorry 😅

💫

don’t apologize, i appreciate hearing your thoughts <3

these parts of what you said really stood out to me:

“Aimsey proves the whole thing about how people’s queerness is judged on morality”

“They will be two-faced liars who only accept you when it’s no harm to them”

“As soon as they have to make themselves uncomfortable for your rights and comfort, all they give is scorn”

you’re right; if you want to foster a safe space for marginalized groups, you cannot pick and choose who is valid and who isn’t. we see this in so many different spaces and in so many different ways — the second that someone who’s part of a marginalized group isn’t liked anymore (usually because of others’ moral superiority complexes), they are completely alienated from their community at the hands of loud ‘advocates’.

one thing that really bothers me about all of this is that the main strength in advocacy is education. educating people is advocacy. and then these creators come forward claiming to be advocates who foster safe spaces, yet their only forms of ‘education’ or discussion are heated rants about other creators they don’t like, vagueing ongoing situations or drama, and shitting on creators like dream. and the worst part is how obvious it is that they haven’t even attempted to think critically about any of the hate they’re spreading. also, spreading hate is not advocacy! ever! spreading hate is not ‘supporting victims’! you’re inherently taking away from victims when you shift the focus onto someone to target. turning someone else into a victim isn’t supporting victims.

and about all the action dream has taken to support people in marginalized groups: there’s even a massive difference between those other creators & dream in terms of the messages they spread and the behaviours they encourage. dream has ALWAYS told his fans not to spread hate or fight people on his behalf. he has ALWAYS encouraged empathy, understanding, and compassion, and shown it himself even when the other party doesn’t necessarily deserve it and hasn’t shown him the same. he doesn’t go on hate-rants about other creators. he ALWAYS gives people the benefit of the doubt and tries to look at things from every possible perspective.

yes, talking is a huge part of advocacy. but an even bigger part is action. content creators make their agendas and intentions clear through their actions and behaviour, but their fans often get distracted by their words (i.e. “this is a safe space for queer people”). all of those examples you listed of ways dream has been a silent advocate makes his agenda clear. the same goes for creators like aimsey, who make empty promises and then do things that directly contradict the things they’re saying (claiming to support victims, yet completely ignoring all of the ways dream has been victimized).

advocacy is uncomfortable, period. being a large voice in a community and using that reach to support marginalized groups can shine a huge spotlight on creators. and once you see where a creator draws the line, where their support and ‘advocacy’ ends, their intentions and agendas become visible very quickly. and usually, the point where advocacy becomes too uncomfortable for a creator happens much sooner than people would expect. this is the issue with fans taking a creator’s words at face value; if those words aren’t backed up by any action, often times that means they’re untrue.

#pixspeaks #chitchat #discourse #aimsey neg

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mochinek0 · 1 year

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Daminette December 2022: 21-Green

Marinette never expected her life to change so much due to one color: green.

Her first crush, Adrien Agreste, had light green eyes. The first time she truly spoke to him, they were filled with honesty. His eyes seemed to carry so much wonder and joy. Over time, they were clouded with uncertainty. There came a point where he averted his eyes away from her. Those green eyes she had loved, were now the eyes of a coward.

Lila Rossi was the net person with green eyes and would become her enemy. Lila's eyes were conniving and sharp. Her eyes seemed to shift between yellow-green and dark, when she was angry. Lila was a liar, who tried to ruin her life.

The last pair of green eyes that changed her life belonged to the love of her life, Damian Wayne. Damian had made her life so much better. She had been at her lowest, when he found her. He understood her artistic needs, when she was anxious, and how to calm her down. Damian and his family were her biggest supporters, after her own family.

"Please, welcome the Waynes!" the announcer cried out.

Marinette smiled and gripped her husband's arm, as they took the stage with the rest of the family. She kept a smile on her face, as she caught Lila's eyes from across the room. They were dark green; green with envy. She could see the hatred in her eyes. She spotted Adrien's eyes filled with shock and worry.

"I think we'll need a bigger stage soon." Bruce quipped, as he took the mic, "Some of you may know my family, but not everyone does. Let me introduce my sons: Richard Grayson-Wayne, Jason Todd-Wayne, Timothy Drake-Wayne, and Damian Wayne."

The boys waved.

"Many of you do not know the girl at the end. That is Marinette Wayne, my daughter-in-law and Damian's wife."

Marinette smiled as people clapped. Bruce was quick to had over the mic.

"Thank you, Bruce." she smiled, "We are so happy you are all here, today, to help us donate to the children! Every dollar you donate will help us bring a smile to a child's face. Not every parent can be there for them, twenty-four seven, and we want to help those families. They have bills, work, other children to look after. A sick child should never feel that they are a hinderance to their family. Many of you have already donated and we are very thankful. Prince Ali of the Kingdom of Achu is here tonight! We are most grateful to his generous donation through his charity for pediatric hospitals. I, personally, will be shutting down comissions to make clothes for the children in the hospital. The Wayne Foundation will also be donating a million dollars to the hospital, directly, to create a whole ward dedicated for pediatrics."

The crowd began to clap and cheer. As the number of donations began to skyrocket, the Waynes left the stage to mingle.

"Mrs. Wayne." Gabriel spoke, introducing his presence, as well as Adrien and Lila's.

"Ah, Mr. Agreste." Mari smiled, "I thought I spotted Adrien and....your model."

Gabriel cleared his throat, knowing her distaste for Lila.

"Are you still mad at me, Marinette?" Lila questioned, "I promise I'm not the same person I was back in college."

"Yes." He stated, ignoring his muse, "I'm shocked to hear you will be closing your comissions though."

Marinette smiled, "Aside for creating clothes for the sick children at the hospital, I want to create the perfect nursey for our child."

Adrien's jaw dropped, "You're pregnant?"

"Oh, did that news not reach Paris?" Mari asked, "It's been known for almost three months."

"You're so thin!" Lila shrieked, "You must see my doctor. You're practically killing your own child."

"My wife is perfectly healthy, you deranged pig." Damian growled.

"Damian!" Marinette called out, "It's okay. I'm sure you remember me telling you about Lila. She was the disabled model, who didn't know how to control her own mouth."

Lila snapped her mouth shut.

Marinette smiled, "I told my husband all about you disability, Lila. Don't worry, even my parents told him how much they appreciated Gabriel for that reason. I don't know how many times I heard them tell customers about the girl with the lying disease and how Gabriel was an inspiration for having you model for his brand. Myself and Rose already warned Prince Ali, so you don't have to worry about him. We made sure he wouldn't sue you for your false claims about working with him on an environmental project. I also made sure Jagged Stone wouldn't sue you either. I'd be careful who you speak to tonight, though. This is Gotham and if you speak to the wrong person, well, they might call GCPD on you. I'd hate for them to mistake you as someone in dire need and you end up in Arkham Asylum. You might find yourself at the mercy of the rouges. I'd hate if that happened and I could have stopped it."

"Marinete, you're scaring her." Adrien interrupted.

"Adrien." Marinette growled, "I'm only telling her what she needs to hear. If something were to happen to her under your father's watch, imagine the hit to the brand. Many people don't know she's disabled! Not to mention, she's an adult. She can't call her mother to get her out of the asylum, only the doctors can decide when she is fit to leave."

Lila kept her mouth shut and her head down.

"And you can't do anything?" Adrien asked.

"No." Damian sneered, "Are asking my pregnant wife to put herself in harm's way around the mentally ill? If you and your father cannot control your girlfriend, then take her back to the hotel until your scheduled flight. Angel, let us return to the manor. You don't need to stress yourself out tonight. You have already said what was needed."

"Mr. Agreste, you can always call Wayne Enterprise and they will patch you through to me to continue our conversation." Marinette declared.

"Of course, Mrs. Wayne." Gabriel stated, "I apologize for my guest. Her words were unnecessary and have caused you stress. I'll make sure Ms. Rossi returns swiftly to the hotel, on your good fortune."

Marinette nodded and was guided away to the rest of the Waynes. Gabriel watched as Marinette hugged her new family and left the hall.

"Ms. Rossi." he spoke.

"Yes, Mr. Agreste?" she questioned.

"I believe I stated for you to return to the hotel." he growled.

"But-" Lila countered.

"I will personally be speaking to Prince Ali and Mr. Stone about your disability. They will decide whether I should keep you as a model. I require perfection and from what I hear, you are far from perfect." Mr. Agreste sneered.

"I was a child!" Lila shouted.

"Then, lie and live in Arkham Asylum for the rest of your life." Gabriel declared, "Adrien, you will stay by my side. I don't want you associating with Ms. Rossi, until further notice."

"Yes, Father." Adrien spoke.

Marinette relaxed in the car as Damian drove them back to the manor.

"Habibiti, forget the words of the insufferable wench." Damian stated, "You handled her beautifully."

Marinette sighed and closed her eyes.

"I will prepare peppermint tea once we are inside. You should disrobe and get comfortable in the sleepwear your mother sent you. We can lay in bed and watch that show you prefer; the one with sewing and challenges." he continued to speak.

As Marinette relaxed, she felt herself drifting off to sleep. Only one thing was on her mind, as she rubbed her stomach.

'I hope you have your father's eyes.'

TAG LIST: @maribat-calendar-events @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @meme991001 @vixen-uchiha @abrx2002 @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus

#daminette december 2022 #daminette december #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrien salt #lila rossi #lila salt #damian wayne #bruce wayne #marinette wayne #gabriel agreste #green eyes #the color green #liar #manipulative #arkham asylum #pregnant #mochinek0

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jozor-johai · 2 months

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Dorne, Told not Shown: The Watcher Sees, while Doran Says

ASOIAF is all about the way that information—or misinformation—spreads and changes the course of action and history.

Perhaps this is true most of all in the Dornish arc, and especially with Doran Martell, which is entirely about the way that people are told something and not shown the truth of the matter. And, moreover, the way that can have such an impact.

This is all building up to a second post in the future about why I believe Darkstar is not only innocent, but a good person, and maybe even a true knight. First, though, we have to question Gerold Dayne's supposed guilt: did he actually cut Myrcella, like we are led to believe?

Our number one source for that information, strangely, is Doran Martell, who was nowhere near the Greenblood. Arianne was there, but she didn't see anything. Instead, she's told the whole situation by Doran... and Doran is a fucking liar.

In this essay, I'm going to point out the numerous reasons why we might doubt that Gerold cut Myrcella in the first place, with evidence from The Queenmaker and The Princess in the Tower, and then I'm going to jump ahead to The Watcher and point out how much this pattern of being "told, not shown" is a recurring theme in Dorne... and how often Doran himself is the culprit. At the end, I hope to convince you that Doran is almost never trustworthy... because in my next essay, I'm going to argue that Darkstar, contrary to his rogue reputation, is trustworthy... and maybe even worthy of Dawn.

I'm sure I'm not the first to suggest this, as it's been so many years since the release of Dance, but it's exciting to experience a moment of realization that makes me see the Martin's writing itself in a new light, so I wanted to share my thought process here.

It's a long essay, but tumblr can handle long essays. Putting it under the cut.

1.1 The Maiming of Myrcella:

Beginning with the incident in question, Darkstar's alleged crime, and his biggest on-page action... if he even did it.

This is the quote that really started me thinking about how much we are not shown what's really happening in Dorne—because it's made very clear to the reader that Arianne does not actually see what happened to Myrcella. Keeping with the strictly limited POV structure, Arianne is looking at Arys, and so we only see what's happening to Arys, even when Myrcella is shrieking:

A thrown spear took Ser Arys's mount in the flank, yet still the horse came on, staggering as he hit the gangplank. "No," some girl was shouting, some foolish little girl, "no, please, this was not supposed to happen." She could hear Myrcella shrieking too, her voice shrill with fear. Ser Arys's longsword slashed right and left, and two spearmen went down.

And again, in the immediate aftermath, it's really highlighted how much Arianne doesn't see what happened:

Arianne did not remember climbing from her horse. Perhaps she'd fallen. She did not remember that either. Yet she found herself on her hands and feet in the sand, shaking and sobbing and retching up her supper. No, was all that she could think, no, no one was to be hurt, it was all planned, I was so careful. She heard Areo Hotah roar, "After him. He must not escape. After him!" Myrcella was on the ground, wailing, shaking, her pale face in her hands, blood streaming through her fingers. Arianne did not understand. Men were scrambling onto horses whilst others swarmed over her and her companions, but none of it made sense.

She doesn't see, she doesn't remember, and here is Myrcella, already on the ground bleeding.

1.2 The official story

Despite this chaos, and despite the state she was in at the end of her previous chapter, Arianne begins her next chapter already absolutely certain that it was Gerold Dayne's doing:

"Areo," she had pleaded with her captor during the long dry ride from the Greenblood back to Sunspear, "I never wanted the girl to come to harm. You must believe me." Hotah made no reply, except to grunt. Arianne could feel his anger. Darkstar had escaped him, the most dangerous of all her little group of plotters. He had outraced all his pursuers and vanished into the deep desert, with blood upon his blade.

How does she know that? She didn't see that, so far as we can tell. She specifically didn't see any of that. This is a memory, and already Arianne is inserting her interpretations into it. So where does this idea come from? Doran's orders, we can assume, given that it's Doran's story when he finally goes to see her:

Arianne was almost afraid to ask. "Myrcella. Is she . . . ?" ". . . dead? No, though Darkstar did his best. All eyes were on your white knight so no one seems quite certain just what happened, but it would appear that her horse shied away from his at the last instant, else he would have taken off the top of the girl's skull."

Yet even in this dialogue, Doran reminds us that no one was watching. Arianne is being told, not shown, about Gerold Dayne, just as much as we, the readers are… and as we will see, we are given every reason to doubt what we are told.

1.3 How trustworthy is a friend?

Based on the word of Arianne's companions, we might share Arianne's suspicion that Gerold is "the worm in the apple," (as Arianne later imagines) because so many of her other confidants don't like him—and tell her so:

When he was gone, the others exchanged glances. "Forgive me, princess," said Garin softly, "but I do not like that man." "A pity," Drey said. "I believe he's half in love with you." "We need him," Arianne reminded them. "It may be that we will need his sword, and we will surely need his castle." "High Hermitage is not the only castle in Dorne," Spotted Sylva pointed out, "and you have other knights who love you well. Drey is a knight."

Later, though, we might second-guess their counsel.

After all, someone must have been the proverbial worm in the apple, because, as Hotah intones: "Someone told. Someone always tells." However, Arianne herself thinks, the idea that said informer was Gerold makes little to no sense:

Garin, Drey, and Spotted Sylva were friends of her girlhood, as dear to her as her cousin Tyene. She could not believe they would inform on her . . . but that left only Darkstar, and if he was the betrayer, why had he turned his sword on poor Myrcella? He wanted to kill her instead of crowning her, he said as much at Shandystone. He said that was how I'd get the war I wanted. But it made no sense for Dayne to be the traitor. If Ser Gerold had been the worm in the apple, why would he have turned his sword upon Myrcella?

Why indeed? We're told it was Darkstar's doing, but we're also reminded how that story fails a basic logic check. He cannot have been the informant and the attacker of Myrcella, those two roles seemingly have opposite goals.

Arianne discounts the rest of her co-conspirators as being the informant because of their long history; all the rest have been her friends since childhood... but that might count for less than she thinks.

It brings to mind this quote from ADWD Reek III, when Roose is talking about Ramsay. Considering Feast/Dance as one book thematically, as I like to, I believe these moments serve to inform one another.

"Breathe deep. I know what he said. You're to spy on me and keep his secrets." Bolton chuckled. "As if he had secrets. Sour Alyn, Luton, Skinner, and the rest, where does he think they came from? Can he truly believe they are his men?" "His men," Reek echoed. Some comment seemed to be expected of him, but he did not know what to say.

Where does Arianne think these friends came from in the first place? If they are her childhood friends, then they were placed alongside her in the water gardens by Doran decades ago. How can she be sure they are hers, and not his, any of them? Any of them, save the one that the Martells never trusted: Gerold Dayne.

In the unreleased TWOW chapter Arianne I, Daemon points out Oberyn's public disdain for the man (if you can call him that):

"Is that what Darkstar is? A man?" Ser Daemon grimaced. "A man would not have done what he did to Princess Myrcella. Ser Gerold is more a viper than your uncle ever was. Prince Oberyn could see that he was poison, he said so more than once. It's just a pity that he never got around to killing him."

Of course, for all we know, Oberyn might have tried. Gerold might hint at a past conflict between the two of them during one of his few scenes:

I was weaned on venom, Dalt. Any viper takes a bite of me will rue it." Ser Gerold vanished through a broken arch.

I think it's possible that Gerold is making a double entendre here, referring to the Viper here, and not just "any viper". If so, that would suggest that Oberyn had tried to eliminate him in the past, but failed to.

Even without that speculation about poison, it's clear that the Martells do not trust Gerold, and haven't for some time. So, all of Arianne's conspirators, like Daemon Sand, are simply echoing that one talking point, and never actually giving us information about Gerold. She's being told, not shown... and not even told much.

From the perspective of the readers, we have to understand that we're not being told that Gerold is trouble, we're being shown that Doran and any of his potential allies want Arianne to think he's trouble.

So we might next wonder: what else does Doran want Arianne—or us— to think? And what evidence do we have to believe anything he says... or better, what evidence do we have not to?

1.4 The Watcher

The more I've thought about it, the more important the title of Areo Hotah's second chapter is, and it exemplifies what's so valuable about Hotah himself as a POV for Doran. Almost nothing actually happens in The Watcher. The chapter has two acts, and both center more around talking than action; the first act focuses on the reveal of the alleged skull of Gregor Clegane, while the second act focuses on Doran revealing some of his plans to the Sand Snakes and enlisting their help in his plotting.

Hotah, "The Watcher", tacitly understands that the truth of the matter comes in seeing it, and this chapter is written with that perspective in mind. Hopefully, it cues the reader into a similar mindset. For the most part, Hotah keeps his thoughts suppressed (unlike Arianne's frantic internal narratives) so it's still up to the reader to put these things together—but, on the other hand, he offers a relatively unbiased view, so it should be possible to infer details as a reader that Hotah doesn't note himself.

1.5 Arianne joins Doran's growing lie

When it comes to Doran's story about Gerold being the culprit, what's even better about this is how this story grows recursively. In The Watcher, we see an updated version—one that we know has lies in it.

Last time, Arianne was told that Gerold cut down Myrcella, and accepted that as the truth... and here we see that this narrative was so effective that Arianne then turns around and doubles down on Doran's lie on his behalf, telling the Sand Snakes that Gerold not only cut Myrcella, but also killed Arys.

"...And when the girl tells him how your captain cut Arys Oakheart from neck to groin with that steel wife of his, well …" "No." Princess Arianne unfolded from the cushion where she sat and put a hand on Hotah's arm. "That wasn't how it happened, Cousin. Ser Arys was slain by Gerold Dayne." The Sand Snakes looked at one another. "Darkstar?"

This time, we the readers fully know this is a lie. Not only that, even Arianne fully knows it's a lie. And yet, despite knowing what she's lying about, Arianne still believes half of it: she thinks she's lying about Gerold killing Arys, but not Gerold cutting Myrcella. If Gerold is being falsely accused of harming Myrcella, this part almost becomes laugh out loud funny—how can Arianne be complicit in this lie, and yet never wonder if she herself is being lied to, too?

Doran, though, speaks both tales in the same breath, and claims them equally true:

"Darkstar did it," his little princess said. "He tried to kill Princess Myrcella too. As she will tell Ser Balon." Nym smiled. "That part at least is true." "It is all true," said the prince, with a wince of pain. Is it his gout that hurts him, or the lie? "And now Ser Gerold has fled back to High Hermitage, beyond our reach."

Is it the lie that pains him? Areo, the Watcher, wonders. That's all Hotah deigns to add, but we might note where that appears: it's after Doran says it's all true. If Doran can claim it's all true—and possibly wince with the falseness of that—we might wonder just how much of it is a lie, and to whom? Does the fact of the one lie spoil trust in the other? If Doran says they are both "equally true," and one is clearly a lie, then are they not, instead, both "equally false," put another way? While Arianne never considers this herself, I think that may be the case.

1.6 An uncertain skull

This network of telling, not showing, is a major theme in Hotah's Dance chapter, even when Doran is on the receiving end. This is what the Dorne story is about.

From Balon Swann's perspective, he's being told Myrcella is fine, but he's never shown her—nor is the reader. Balon will be told that Arys died protecting her from Gerold Dayne, but I suspect more of that might be a lie than Arianne knows.

On the other hand, Ser Balon is hardly innocent himself. He comes bearing a skull; the crown is telling Dorne that this skull once belonged to Ser Gregor Clegane... but there is no way to show anyone the truth of that, as Obara points out:

I'll take that." Obara Sand plucked the skull from him and held it at arm's length. "What did the Mountain look like? How do we know that this is him? They could have dipped the head in tar. Why strip it to the bone?" "Tar would have ruined the box," suggested Lady Nym, as Maester Caleotte scurried off. "No one saw the Mountain die, and no one saw his head removed. That troubles me, I confess, but what could the bitch queen hope to accomplish by deceiving us?"

…Even better, Lady Nym goes on to give an ominous warning about the cost of lies:

If Gregor Clegane is alive, soon or late the truth will out. The man was eight feet tall, there is not another like him in all of Westeros. If any such appears again, Cersei Lannister will be exposed as a liar before all the Seven Kingdoms. She would be an utter fool to risk that. What could she hope to gain?"

Of course, we know that Cersei is an utter fool, because this is Dance, and we've read all of Feast. Later, nearer the end of Dance, we also learn that another like him has appeared again—this so-called Robert Strong, newest member of the Kingsguard. And, we know that Lady Nym herself is headed to the Small Council, and will be right there to see this man, and therefore to bear witness as Cersei is exposed as a liar before all the Seven Kingdoms.

Of course, there are a myriad of theories about whether this is Gregor's skull or not, which tie themselves into knots trying to justify one answer or another, but I think the thematic importance here is that no one in Dorne knows. Tywin knew the importance of the certainty that Gregor was punished in ASOS Jaime IX:

"Undoubtedly. I swore as much in the letter I sent to Prince Doran with his brother's body. But it must be seen to be the sword of the King's Justice that slays him, not a poisoned spear. Heal him."

But here, now, the Dornish themselves are having their own treatment returned to them: they are being told one thing, and no evidence.

But perhaps Nym's warning has another meaning, with a more general application. If the truth comes out, then the teller risks all. Nym's warning is about Cersei, but it gains more broad thematic resonance if it's also true about Doran.

In fact, with this quote, Nym is providing the entire reasoning for the next step of Doran's plan: to "beard Darkstar in his den"—a mission that Doran believes is so vital that he is sending his personal security, Areo Hotah, to do the job. Areo Hotah is the perfect man for the mission—and the only man who could do it—because of his two most notable traits: he is lethal, and he knows all but says nothing.

As Lady Nym points out, If Doran were lying, then Gerold could not be suffered to be left alive, because if he were to be left alive, the "the truth will out" and the liar would be "exposed as a liar before all the Seven Kingdoms".

1.7 Doran supposedly "reveals" Balon's "secret mission"

Finally, Balon's final and worst offense, the one that finally collects all of the Sand Snakes to Doran's side and convinces them to join him.

Dorne still has friends at court. Friends who tell us things we were not meant to know. This invitation Cersei sent us is a ruse. Trystane is never meant to reach King's Landing. On the road back, somewhere in the kingswood, Ser Balon's party will be attacked by outlaws, and my son will die. I am asked to court only so that I may witness this attack with my own eyes and thereby absolve the queen of any blame. Oh, and these outlaws? They will be shouting, 'Halfman, Halfman,' as they attack. Ser Balon may even catch a quick glimpse of the Imp, though no one else will."

Balon tells Doran that a ship wouldn't be safe for a return trip, and that Myrcella and Trystane must needs return to King's Landing overland, but Doran informs the Sand Snakes of the reality of Balon’s plot to harm Trystane....

Or, is it that Doran only tells us that Balon plots this, even though we are never shown anything to back up this claim? Rather than taking Doran's word here, without any other information to back it up, what if we were to investigate whether or not any of this is the truth?

To start, I want to point out how Doran's so-called "friends at court" is a deliciously vague phrase. This phrase has sparked many a theory—who are these friends? Who at court is informing to Dorne? Taena? Varys? Moon Boy for all I know?

I wonder instead if these friends are even real. It's a vague enough phrase as to handwave any questions—Dorne has spies, sure. It's believable without needing any more evidence. But then notice what Doran says almost immediately afterward, in recruiting Lady Nym and Tyene to his cause:

That task will be yours, Nymeria. The Lannisters will not like it, no more than they liked it when I sent them Oberyn, but they dare not refuse. We need a voice in council, an ear at court. Be careful, though. King's Landing is a pit of snakes."

They need an ear at court? But I thought they had an ear at court, the one which revealed Cersei's top secret plans?

And on that subject—this isn't a rock solid argument alone, but it's worth saying—that these plans are pretty elaborate for something Cersei could come up with. Cersei is clever, sure, but her plans are rarely as well-developed and intricate as this one. Take her plan to kill Bronn, for example, from Cersei V:

"I . . . I would sleep more easily of a night if I were to hear that Ser Bronn had suffered a . . . a mishap . . . whilst hunting, perhaps."

This is not a plan with many moving parts, nor does it take much political intricacies into consideration: just take him hunting and make it look like an accident. Note that this was basically identical to her plan to kill Robert, too: take him hunting and make it look like an accident. It seems unlike Cersei to design this Trystane plan, much less to involve Tyrion's name—she seems too preoccupied with the possibility that Tyrion really is out there to use his reputation as a ploy, much less to take advantage of his former clansmen in the wood.

When I've brought this question up before, though, people are quick to jump to this line from Cersei in AFFC Cersei IV:

"His long wait is almost done. I am sending Balon Swann to Sunspear, to deliver him the head of Gregor Clegane." Ser Balon would have another task as well, but that part was best left unsaid.

Ser Balon would have another task, one better left unsaid. I recognize that this sounds suspicious... but I'll get back to this in a moment. I don't believe this other "task" is the plan Doran describes.

1.8 The truth of Trystane's trip to King's Landing

More importantly, it's much easier to see a different problem in Doran's story, one which our dutiful Watcher sees plainly: Balon never asked for Trystane. Doran offered Trystane—while claiming in the same breath that it was Cersei's idea all along. Hotah saw the truth of it earlier in the chapter.

Midnight was close at hand when Prince Doran turned to the white knight and said, "Ser Balon, I have read the letter that you brought me from our gracious queen. Might I assume that you are familiar with its contents, ser?" Hotah saw the knight tense. "I am, my lord. Her Grace informed me that I might be called upon to escort her daughter back to King's Landing. King Tommen has been pining for his sister and would like Princess Myrcella to return to court for a short visit."

Note that here, Balon apparently divulges the content of said letter: That he might escort Myrcella back to King's Landing. Balon himself says nothing about Trystane being mentioned by Cersei whatsoever.

Instead, it's Doran and Arianne that bring up Trystane:

Princess Arianne made a sad face. "Oh, but we have all grown so fond of Myrcella, ser. She and my brother Trystane have become inseparable." "Prince Trystane would be welcome in King's Landing as well," said Balon Swann. "King Tommen would wish to meet him, I am sure. His Grace has so few companions near his own age." "The bonds formed in boyhood can last a man for life," said Prince Doran. "When Trystane and Myrcella wed, he and Tommen will be as brothers. Queen Cersei has the right of it. The boys should meet, become friends. Dorne will miss him, to be sure, but it is past time Trystane saw something of the world beyond the walls of Sunspear." "I know King's Landing will welcome him most warmly."

Balon doesn't ask for Trystane, he says Trystane "would be welcome" if he came, once his attachment to Myrcella has been brought up. Then, it's Doran who says "the boys should meet," right after saying how "Queen Cersei has the right of it".

Queen Cersei only asked for Myrcella! Balon never suggests that Trystane is part of the crown's plan. Nevertheless, Doran is saying that she has the right of it, making it sound like he's only acquiescing to the Queen's plan. Since we're seeing through Hotah's eyes, though, the intricacy of that detail is included along all the rest.

And thus is my rebuttal of the idea that Cersei is thinking of this task back in the small council. Cersei thinks how Balon would have "another task"—we hear that other task, from Balon. His primary task, and his only task so far as the Small Council knew, was to deliver the skull. His second, secret task was to retrieve Myrcella—this is the task unsaid by Cersei but said by Balon. Cersei knew that was better left unsaid because it's a selfish and strategically poor decision—Myrcella was a sign of trust with Dorne that she's trying to undo. It's only Doran and Arianne that bring Trystane into it.

1.9 GRRM is such a good fucking writer

That lie about "Cersei's plan" is yet another appearance of the way that we need to be asking ourselves: are we, the readers, learning something for a certainty, or are we watching one character be told a story by another character?

It's also, more pressingly, another example of how much we should be looking closely at Doran's words and doubting the stories that he is telling intradiegetically. Because Doran is a talker, not a doer, and when he is talking, he is, above all, lying.

Finally, towards the end of the chapter, there is a very GRRM interaction, that leaves a clear final note on how much you just can never trust what Doran is saying:

"We leave for the Water Gardens at first light." We may depart by midday, then, Hotah thought.

It's a very little thing, but it's consistent, and a brilliant bit of character work. Obviously, there is the metaphor for Doran's late, late plans. As with the overripe oranges in Hotah's first chapter, Doran is surrounded by evidence that he waits too long without acting.

But there is another aspect: Hotah has known Doran long enough, and knows Doran well enough, to know that you cannot take Doran's word for it. Even with planning something as simple as a trip to the Water Gardens, Doran will say one thing and another will happen.

GRRM loves to have characters' aspects be represented wholly throughout their whole being. Think about the characters who smell foul to represent their foul nature (or characters, like Littlefinger, who chew mint leaves to cover his breath in a metaphor for his gilded persona covering his malicious personality).

Doran, wheelchair bound, cannot act, only talk... but words are wind, and his more than most. To understand just how much Doran is like this, he's shown through the POV of his perfect foil: Areo Hotah, who never talks, only watches, and acts... and Hotah understands the truth of the matter.

He won't tell, though, he just thinks it. He gets a single line of dialogue that chapter:

"That is not for me to say, my prince."

No wonder Doran likes him so much.

In the companion post to this one, I'll be returning to Gerold Dayne's scenes and attempt to look at them as though I were Areo Hotah, not Arianne. What is the truth of what we get to watch Gerold do? What kind of man is he, really? And might he be worthy of the title Sword of the Morning, after all?

#asoiaf meta #jozor thoughts #asoiaf analysis #Dorne Told not Shown #darkstar #doran martell #valyrianscrolls #Doran Martell and Gerold Dayne

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