thinking about date everything characters (a harem maybe?) with a lover who's paranoid at night.
open curtains, unlocked doors, the general looming fear that someone might be watching, that type of thing. not bad security, just anxiety.
daisuke would help to double check that all the windows and the doors are locked, having a checklist at the ready just for them.
dorian and wyndolyn not only affirm they are locked, but make sure they are shut and locked tight. if it means bringing a bit more security to the house, then both are more than willing.
curt & rod make sure that all the curtains are closed and that nobody can peek inside without meeting the guarded gazes of curt & rod.
chance helps to distract from the fear by running through some adventures, mateo ensuring max comfort whilst chance is narrative his stories.
after being tuckered out, betty and mateo ensure warmth and comfort whilst being tucked into bed. lyric may pop by to read a couple stories in order to ease nerves.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 7/?
Rating: M (for canon-typical violence; no smut)
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence
Relationships: Desmond & Auditore Family, Desmond & Francesco Vecellio, Ezio & Leonardo, Desmond/Francesco Vecellio
Characters: Desmond, Ezio, Claudia, Francesco
Additional Tags: rarepair is announced!, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, found/forged family as well as blood family, time travel, reincarnation, BAMF Desmond, the rarest of pairs, meaning i think this will be the first on ao3, War of the Creed and Crows, Desmond is BROWN gdi, William Miles’ A+ parenting, Desmond-centric, more tags on ao3
long chapter! because combat! and a good bit of backstory! and, as promised, many name reveals! proper ship reveal!
originally i had aspirations to do more than one prompt for @fatguarddog's feedist kinktober this year but life caught up to me... so this is all you got. one chonker of a fic
this one is... complicated. it's lowkey an au i have for a certain fandom with the serial numbers filed off, though it's small enough that i think even if i did use names i'd be fine. but bc it's a small fandom there's only five shippers out there and i'm one who writes a lot of fic. so if you're one of the other ones and you've found my kink blog - hi there.
now that i'm long with this really long prelude, enjoy!
Stella should have known Rahim was trouble.
At first, the trouble had been plain to see: he was a stoner crashing his rich sister’s party. Besides that, though, Rahim was dorky and sweet. Not to mention tall and handsome, too, his lanky frame belying his lean muscle. When he’d asked for her number, Stella hadn’t hesitated. She needed more friends - or more than that - in LA, anyway.
The real trouble he’d bring to her life proved to be to her waistline.
There could be a lot of things to blame for the nearly forty pounds she’d gained since meeting Rahim. Stella hadn’t been as active as she’d been in New York City, walking less and not yet finding a Pilates studio that met her high standards. She smoked less than she had, too, which her lungs were thankful for.
But finding out handsome, dorky Rahim worked as a fry cook not too far from her law firm’s office and her condo? Now that was trouble.
It wasn’t totally convenient, though. Rahim often worked weekends, while she had her nine to five. Still, they made it work.
Stella sat across from him in their booth, finishing off the last of her fries. The large order and the double cheeseburger it had accompanied had left her pleasantly full. Months ago, it would have felt like a ridiculous amount of food. She was far gone from the single with a side salad that she’d gotten the first time she made an excuse to see him here.
Rahim put the lid back on his Tupperware with a satisfying click. His culinary skills were wasted here, even if he made a damn fine burger. She’d stolen a bite of his bademjam and insisted he make it for her, which he promised he would.
“Got any plans for the rest of the day?” he asked, leaning his elbows against the table.
“Mm, not really.” She dragged her last fry through a puddle of burger sauce on her tray. “I was going to start the new Stephen King novel I picked up.” Stella popped the fry in her mouth. “You should swing by when you’re done.”
He grinned. “I thought you didn’t like how I smelled after a shift.”
“It’s growing on me. Just change out of your uniform first,” she told him.
“Alright.” Rahim straighted up, drumming a rhythm against the rickety tabletop. “Oh. Before you head out - hold on.” He scooped up his Tupperware and fork before sliding out of the booth. “I brought you something.”
Stella watched him amble towards the kitchen, vanishing behind the swinging door. She smiled to herself as she pushed aside the aftermath of her meal. Though Rahim was a far cry from the guys she’d dated back in New York, he was way better than those business bros. Maybe that was why she found herself spending so much time at Burger Herder of all places.
When he came back, he was carrying a different Tupperware, larger and filled with-
“You made me cookies?” Stella asked.
“I know I’m not much of a baker,” he told her, sitting back down across from her. “But I was perusing the web for recipes, as one does, and I found this one. I was pretty high when I found it, so it’s a little crazy. But they’re chocolate covered strawberry cookies.”
She took the Tupperware from his hands. They did look kinda crazy. “I didn’t even know you could put strawberries in a cookie.”
“There’s lots of things you can put into a cookie,” Rahim told her. “The trick is using freeze-dried fruit.”
“Got it,” she said, as if it was advice she’d ever find herself using.
“So, you know-” He shrugged. “Give them a try. Tell me how they turned out.”
She examined the container again. It was absolutely full of cookies. “Did you give me the whole batch or something?” Stella asked.
At that, he looked a little sheepish. “I might have. I just- I made them because I thought of you.”
She smiled. “You’re such a sap.” With a sigh, she started to slide out of the booth. Oof. She’d skipped her usual milkshake to not be too full, but her jeans still dug into her stomach as she got up. Stella was sure she looked as bloated as she felt. Her free hand drifted absently to the curve of it.
Rahim stood up, pulling her into a kiss. His thumb pressed gently into her love handle as he did, though she wasn’t going to point out that he was squeezing. It was nice to know he was a fan, given most of it was his fault.
“See you later,” he said in a low voice.
“See you.” With that, she left Burger Herder and headed back towards her condo.
The walk felt longer than usual, and not just because LA was less walkable. No wonder she was filling out so much. There was something in his cooking that was addicting, from slightly-above-average cheeseburgers to home-cooked meals.
And she imagined his cookies would be the same deal.
Once she got upstairs, she changed from her tight jeans into only slightly looser sweats. Despite the stretchier material, she had to tug hard to get them on all the way. She tucked them under the bloated curve of her stomach, though the swell of her hips threatened to peak out as well.
Forty pounds was certainly no small amount, but on her taller frame, it was deceptive. A good amount had gone to her hips and ass, which were already the curviest parts of her. It was clearer in her war against her jeans and skirts than to others - or at least, she hoped.
The pudgy potbelly she was starting to get was, however, more obvious. It bulged against her waistbands and pushed out over her belts. Especially as full as she was now, the tanktop she wore threatened to ride up and expose the soft skin of her lower stomach.
She grimaced. When she’d came here, she’d had fucking abs. Now they were all buried. Maybe she did need to get back on her Pilates grind. But she was sure her cute athleisurewear would need replacing. Even if she could pull it on, it’d be too tight. It was hard to fit into her schedule, too. She braced a hand against her belly, testing its heft.
The week before, she’d been feeling self-conscious of her burgeoning belly, especially when she was hanging out with Rahim. But he’d cradled her middle absentmindedly while they were cuddling after dinner, the embrace of his big hand comforting for her slightly achy stomach.
Stella tugged her tanktop down further, but smiled a little to herself. He certainly wasn’t trying to tell her to lose weight. Not when he was offloading a dozen cookies on her.
She grabbed her book and went to settle in the corner of her couch. Well, almost. Heading back to the kitchen, Stella took the Tupperware of cookies and cracked the lid off. The strong smell of chocolate wafted out. Despite her full stomach, it sparked her appetite.
She didn’t have milk for dunking cookies in, but she did have coffee creamer. Rahim had many opinions about her grocery shopping habits, mainly that she didn’t do it enough, but a fresh, wildly flavored coffee creamer was always something she picked up. This time, it was a salted caramel brownie creamer that she filled half a glass of for dipping purposes.
Hey, it had to be a good combo, right?
Now, she got comfortable with her book and the container of cookies.
As she started the first chapter, she grabbed the top cookie and took a bite. Stella was glad it was just her, because she couldn’t hold back the sound of pure pleasure that escaped her. “Not much of a baker, my ass,” she mumbled to herself.
The dense chocolate cookie was rich and sweet, with the subtle sugar of the strawberries and bitter dark chocolate covered bottom contrasting it nicely. She leaned over to dunk in the creamer before taking another bite, the caramel and chocolate flavorings complimenting it nicely.
Stella finished off her cookie before returning her focus to the book. It had been a while since she had the time to just relax and read. She settled back into the couch more, taking another cookie. Then another.
As she tore through the book, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She had to fumble to get it out, but the movement- oh.
Her stomach protested the sudden jostling, making her groan. Stella settled a hand against the firm curve with a frown. Her tank top had ridden up more, and tugging it back down proved less fruitful than before.
She glanced over at the Tupperware of cookies. A single cookie alone, surrounded by crumbs of cookies already eaten. The glass of creamer was empty too, more crumbs collecting in the bottom. Stella slammed her book shut.
There was no way she’d eaten nearly a dozen cookies herself. Not in one sitting. But her stomach said otherwise. They had been damn good cookies.
Her phone buzzed again, and she wiggled it free. Panting slightly, she checked the screen.
rahim: off work now!
rahim: got u a surprise
Stella laughed dryly. Oh, if he thought he had a surprise for her.
- 🍪 -
The ride up to Stella’s condo was a slow one. Rahim checked the milkshakes he was toting to make sure they weren’t melting. Obviously, he hadn’t taken so long between Burger Herder and here that they would, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
He was rethinking his surprise for Stella. Really, he had been since he left the restaurant. Was it too much? He’d gotten a milkshake for himself too, just to cover.
Sure, he liked spoiling her a little. He liked to take care of the people in his life and food had been his way of doing that. Cooking for his friends, helping his mom in the kitchen during Eid, weekly dinners to reconnect with his sister - it all brought him joy. Even flipping burgers felt gratifying. He wanted people to enjoy his food.
Then came Stella - intimidatingly hot and kinda scary Stella, who he’d shared a smoke break with at a party and hadn’t been able to get out of his mind since that night. The universe had wanted to bring them together, it seemed, because then she was suddenly at Burger Herder all the time just to see him.
He’d already found her pretty hot. But seeing her soften up since their meeting was its own kind of pleasure. The weight suited her. And maybe, sometimes, he found himself thinking about her bigger: her figure plumping into even more of a pear, the sharp cheekbones of her face hidden under softer cheeks and thicker thighs for him to push apart when he ate her out.
Fantasies like that made him feel guilty about the cookies and milkshakes. It wasn’t on purpose. He hadn’t pushed her to eat bigger lunches or take seconds when he made her dinner. He just… enjoyed the side effects.
The elevator finally slid to a smooth stop, then the doors eased open. Rahim made his way to her condo, ringing the doorbell with an expectant grin.
It took a while for her to answer the door. She’d probably been buried in her book. He couldn’t help bouncing on his heels, a little too excited to see her given they’d literally had lunch together.
When the door opened, he nearly dropped his milkshakes. Stella had swapped out her high-waisted jeans for a pair of sweats that dropped below the swell of her hips and belly, inches of light brown skin exposed by her too-tight tank top. He braced his other hand under the carrier to avoid where his hands wanted to wander to.
Still, she smiled up at him, coming close enough to pull him in for a kiss. “Hi.” When her lips met his, he could taste chocolate. Her eyes flicked down to the drink carrier in hand. “Oh. You brought milkshakes.”
“You, uh, skipped yours at lunch,” Rahim said. “And I wanted one too. So.”
“Thanks,” Stella said. She stepped aside to let him in. Her free hand gravitated towards the side of her belly, carefully pressing in.
As she winced, he put down the drink carrier with a frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Mm. I tried those cookies you made and they were- a little too good.”
Rahim came over, cupping her stomach gently. He could feel how taut the skin was, even through the ribbed fabric of her tank. “Like…”
“I ate most of them?” Stella searched his expression, her eyes nervous and darting. “No wonder I’m getting so chubby.”
Alarm bells went off in his head. Some of them were horny alarms, but others were the real fear of making his girlfriend feel even more self-conscious.
“Oh, eshgham,” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I mean, I gave them to you to eat them.”
She chuckled. “I know. Just- not in one sitting.”
That hadn’t been his intention. But it was incredibly hot to think about. Not that he needed to be thinking about that right now.
“Do you want me to make you some tea to help with your stomach?” Rahim asked.
Stella shook her head and pushed his hands away. “No, just- come sit me for a while.”
He followed her to the couch, letting her fold herself against him. Her back pushed against his chest, enough that he could let his hands rest on her stomach again. His touch was gentle, in case she wanted him to stop.
Instead, she leaned into it with a soft hum. “Do what you did on our last date night.”
There were many things he’d done, enough that he had to guess what she meant. But it came to him then - helping with she’d filled up on too much veggie lasagna and garlic bread by rubbing her belly as they cuddled. It’d been accidental. She’d just seemed so uncomfortable, and he didn’t like seeing her in pain.
Now, Rahim cradled her belly again, finding the spots that seemed the most tight. “Okay, let me help you out.” He started massaging it gently, using his thumbs to do most of the work while feeling up her belly. She really was getting softer, especially under where it was most swollen. Though, as his fingertips met under her hang, his mind went to thoughts of her belly so big that wasn’t possible, her filling up his arms.
Stella made a satisfied little noise, arching her back. It was just because she wasn’t in as much pain, but it still sent a jolt of arousal right to his groin. God, this would be the worst time to pop a boner.
“You’re beautiful,” he muttered to her.
She hummed again. “I didn’t plan on eating all of them, you know. If I’d thought ahead, I would have saved some. But there is one more.”
“Just one?” he asked. When she’d said most, he hadn’t imagined nearly the whole batch. Sure enough, his Tupperware sat on the coffee table with one cookie left. It looked so sad and lonely in there. Surely… “Saving it for later, then?”
Stella shrugged. She placed one of her hands on top of his, before saying, “Mm. Maybe I should just eat the whole dozen. Finish them off, you know.”
The casual laugh Rahim tried to let out was strangled. It was just one cookie. But that stood between a whole baker’s dozen, a whole batch of cookies he’d made that she had enjoyed in one afternoon.
“Unless you want it,” she continued.
“God, no, have it,” he told her. “If you want it, have it.”
She turned around to face him. Rahim could tell she was searching his expression and tried to school his face into something other than arousal.
“Can you grab it, then? Bending over still kinda hurts,” Stella said.
“Oh, of course.”
Rahim leaned towards the coffee table to grab it. He couldn’t help eying the empty glass that sat there too, thick residue from some creamy beverage on it. Milk and cookies. How classic.
Stella had readjusted herself to fully face him. He’d pushed the tank top more, but she hadn’t fixed it, leaving her stomach on display. It was so damn tempting.
He took the cookie out of the Tupperware before he could really think of what he was doing and offered it to her.
With a small grin, she leaned forward to take a bite. He cupped his hand under the cookie to catch the crumbs. But really he was more focused on her - the small smile, the contented noise she made. Those little things sent a spark of arousal through him because, shit, she was so hot.
Rahim brought the cookie to her mouth again. As she chewed, she huffed, her hand bracing her stomach.
“Ugh. I’m gonna need a nap after this and that milkshake,” Stella said.
He would need more than that. But if she wanted a nap, he wouldn’t bother her.
“Are you going to give me the rest?”
“Oh, yeah.” It was still a large piece, but Stella took it all in one bite anyways. With his hands free, he held her stomach again, feeling how full it was. A whole baker’s dozen of cookies.
She swallowed, then scooted closer with a grunt. Rahim pulled her into his lap. Her belly pushed against his flat middle, thick thighs bracing him.
“That’s thirteen,” he told her.
“Thirteen?” she repeated, panting slightly.
“Yeah. It was a bakers’ dozen.”
“Oh,” Stella muttered. “Putting a number to it, it sounds like a lot.”
It was. But Rahim kept repeating the number in his head. “It’s not that much,” he bluffed.
She gave him a teasing grin. “You like this, don’t you?”
“Oh, well, I-“ He began to stammer, watching her smile groan. It was hard to hide his boner, especially with her straddling him. “Yeah. I do.”
She laced her arms around his neck, one hand playing with the eyes of his long hair. “I do, too. I like how much you cook for me.” She leaned in for a quick kiss. “Though, if you wanted to bake more for me-“
“Noted,” Rahim said. “I’ll satiate your sweet tooth any time you want.”
Stella ground against him, making him groan. “I might not fit in your lap much longer then.”
“You can be on top of me in different ways,” he told her.
“Of course that’s what you care about,” she said fondly. “You’re not subtle, you know.”
“Mm, sue me. I think you’re hot and- I wanna make you hotter.”
Stella gripped his hair. “Maybe I will sue.”
God, he loved her. “Then who’s gonna make you cookies, and brownies, and pie-“
“Strawberry rhubarb?” she asked Rahim, excitement creeping into her flirtatious tone.
“I should’ve known strawberry is your weakness,” he told her. “It made you eat thirteen cookies.”
“Good luck getting a slice if you bake me that pie.”
Stella eating an entire pie he’d baked her might kill him. But he couldn’t think too much about that right now.
Instead, he asked, “Want your milkshake?”
“Gimme a minute.” She leaned to kiss him again, deep and passionate.
As Rahim brought his hand to rest on her belly, he kissed her back just as eagerly. Soon enough, there was going to be so much of her to love.
AU WHERE ANAKIN DIDN’T TURN AND HELPED TOPPLE THE EMPIRE (AND PRETTY MUCH EVERYONE LIVED)
OBITINE FANFIC
Obi-Wan is the first to pass - not surrounded by doom and death like surely he thought he would have, but one morning in his early eighties, he just doesn’t wake from the comfort of his bed.
He is given a private cremation in the Jedi Temple, attended by the growing Jedi population and his family. His legacy. It is a simple affair, just like Obi-Wan would have liked. Leia, Obi-Wan’s former Jedi apprentice after her father, delivers the eulogy. Anakin is too grief stricken to even consider doing so, he stands by the pyre, warm tears cascading down his cheeks. Not that he is needed, Leia says everything he could have dreamed of saying on that dias she stands on.
Luke is the one to light the pyre as Jedi Grandmaster. He had offered to allow Anakin to carry out the task, but he had refused. Obi-Wan has always been one for tradition. He watches as Padmé clutches his hand tightly. He doesn’t need to look at her to know that she is crying. He can hear Leia quietly sobbing into Jacen’s shoulder as Han holds her.
Anakin is the last to leave the cremation chamber, he waits for the flames to disappear. He collects the ashes, placing them in an earthen pot. Simple as he would have liked. He informs Ahsoka, boards his starfighter, and along with Artoo sets course for Mandalore.
He is greeted by the restored Duke of Mandalore, Korkie Kryzé. The late Duchess Satine’s nephew. Korkie leads the way for Anakin. He doesn’t say much and Anakin doesn’t mind. He is in no condition to converse.
Instead, he settles with studying the Duke. He has proved to be a promising ruler - following Satine’s path, but also, being more of a pragmatist where his aunt was an idealist. He has inherited much of his looks from the Kryzés.
However, not for the first time, Anakin sees more than that. He has never been able to verify it, but the Duke reminds him of Obi-Wan. He has wondered on many occasions if his mind has been playing tricks on him, yet, he can not shake the feeling that it is not. Anakin had let it slide, never questioning it out loud, for if it is true, there must be a reason for the secrecy - even after all these years.
Anakin of all people would know.
Korkie doesn’t accompany him into the inside of the mausoleum, for which Anakin is grateful. He enters the burial chamber, carefully holding the small pot of ashes, and the belongings he needs for the trip in his bag.
It is a beautiful room, intricately decorated as befitted the Duchess. Above the tomb, there is a glass painting of Satine, and Anakin stops for a moment to admire it. He had not known her well in her lifetime, but she had been a close friend to Padmé, and the love of Obi-Wan’s life.
Obi-Wan had never loved again after her. He had lived missing Satine Kryzé his whole life.
He spent his life dedicated to Jedi, to the Republic, and to justice. Anakin’s family had been his. Anakin had made sure of that.
Anakin, once again, regrets his absence on Obi-Wan’s mission to Mandalore that had ended with Satine’s death. Obi-Wan had been with him for him time after time - bringing him off the dangerous and dark edge that he had been dancing on. Yet, Anakin had not been with him when he needed him most.
So Anakin owes Obi-Wan this much.
He sets to work. He pulls out a much bigger pot out of his bag, one that is decorated in a simple, yet, beautiful manner. In a way that it would not seem out of place in the chamber. He dumps dirt he had brought into it.
And slowly, he opens the pot full of Obi-Wan ashes. He registers that he is silently crying, but he carries on. He gently pours the contents into the pot, mixing it with the dirt with his metallic hand.
After he finishes it, he retrieves the seeds that he brought, and buries them in the dirt.
Seeds of white lilies.
He picks up the pot, and his tears fall into it as he carefully places it before Satine’s tomb, amongst the other plants around her resting place. He empties his water container into it, and stands up.
He tidies his mess, and observes his handiwork.
Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order. Anakin had heard Obi-Wan tell Satine on the Cornet.
After a lifetime of service to the Jedi, Obi-Wan finally joined the Duchess.
Anakin touches Satine’s tomb, and pays his respects. Then, he kneels before the flower pot, and pats the dirt gently. He looks up at the sky through the glass ceiling for a moment, hoping Obi-Wan is finally at peace.
“Goodbye,” His voice cracks, “old friend.”
Korkie is waiting for him outside, he doesn’t ask anything save for wondering if Anakin would be joining him for dinner, to which Anakin refuses.
He places his hand on the Duke’s shoulder, “Keep up the good work, your highness.” He leaves without further ado.
He senses Korkie enter the mausoleum as he does so. He smiles inwardly.
Satine would be proud of the kid.
Obi-Wan would be proud.
As Anakin flies back to Coruscant, he knows that it will be a long time before the grief ebbs away. He knows the pain will never truly go away. Obi-Wan had been his friend. Father. Brother.
Yet, he has accepted Obi-Wan’s passing into the Force. He does not feel the rage he had felt when his mother had died or when Obi-Wan had faked his during the Clone Wars.
Anakin chuckles. Even in death, Obi-Wan is teaching him. He taught him acceptance. Of loss. Of death.
picture this; you're scrolling through your phone and stumble upon kintsugi, a japanese method of repairing broken pottery with gold. you decide 'fuck it, i've got spare time and money' so you get the stuff you need for it.
you have everything, all you need is a dish.
so you go to your kitchen, where daisuke is going through inventory as per usual. you grab a pretty plain looking plate, and at first daisuke thinks you're about to eat, but you suddenly smash the dish against the ground.
he's fucking mortified, infuriated, ready to strangle you, but you're quick to grab the shattered pieces and run off to lock yourself in your office.
at first, he refuses to talk to you. daisuke has spent practically his entire life guarding those dishes; of course he's going to be mad! and the fact that you ran off with the pieces doing god knows what? it has his blood boiling.
though, as a couple days go by, he hears from lyric about a project you've been working on. usually, he'd be mad, but he can't help but feel a little concerned when he hears that you've barely left your room. of course, he's still angry at you.
a while passes, and once more, he's going through inventory. you're in the dining room, sipping on coffee and trying not to pass out (with abel keeping you from faceplanting directly into the table).
daisuke takes notice of a rather familiar plate. it's the same one you shattered, but it's put back together, its cracks line with shimmering gold. a note is plastered onto it, saying 'sorry' with a little heart next to it. at this point, he might just cry.
as you get up after finishing your coffee, daisuke calls you over. as soon as you're within reach, he pulls you close, letting out a soft sigh. it's been a while since he held you like this. he missed it, honestly.
"at least ask me next time you want to try a new art form with the dishes..."
---
I KNOW I KNOW THIS WAS POORLY WRITTEN BUT IT CAME TO ME SUDDENLY AND I JUST HAD TOOOOOO
kintsugi also takes like, 2 to 3 months according to google, so if anyone wants to make a little more detailed ver., just keep that in mind.
daisuke, who waits eagerly from the cabinets for you to come by, fingers itching for something to do despite the work in his hands already
daisuke, who holds you close and allows the world to fade away until it's nothing but your very essence
daisuke, who whispers sweet words into your ear as he keeps you close, listing down every single thing he loves about you
daisuke, who kisses your lips with care, as if you may crack, yet still with a passion that set you ablaze
daisuke, who allows his hands and lips to trail down your body, worshipping and fawning as if you were one of his most prized ceramics
daisuke, who suddenly sweeps you off your feet, his hooded eyes gazing at you with adoration as he mutters something about how his work may need to wait a bit longer
okay i was going through all of chance's voice lines and stumbled upon his hate ones. i know this is probably out of character but i feel sad now and need to project :sob:
picture this; you've got adhd and depression. your attention span is that of a goldfish and only certain things can hold your attention, but when people get annoyed by that, you feel very guilty and end up losing motivation to do anything.
let's say you're off your meds, and let's say chance is having a bad day (lux probably). the two of you are doing a session and you keep getting distracted, but chance is slowly losing patience with you. like hello?? please pay attention.
he eventually tells you to just leave. he doesn't feel like playing anymore, he says. you finally pick up on his agitation, and now ridden with guilt, you nod and get up to leave.
literally a week passes, and chance is sitting at the table waiting for you to come by. he's got his things set up, but you're nowhere to be found. confused, he asks around the office where you might be, and finally, dorian provides an answer: you've been hiding away in your room, only occassionally coming out to grab food before hiding away.
chance now feels bad, especially with the way dorian seems to be glaring daggers into his soul. how did it slip his mind like this? well, he's got to make amends somehow. the question is.. how?
i might write a part two if anyone wants that hurt/comfort, but for now i'll just leave it at hurt. if y'all wanna write your own interpretations or extensions, feel free to do so (with credit :])
picture this; you're an animator/digital artist. you're making a piece inspired by one of your GnG sessions.
chance comes up to you and asks what you're doing, and when he looks at your computer, he immediately recognizes the character on the screen—it's his character.
either he starts squealing with excitement or absolutely sobbing. he's ecstatic that you find so much fun in his stories and characters to the point that you're making full blown art pieces.
