We all talk A LOT about how qCellbit is sooo smitten for qRo and how he's so in love and how qRo seems detached.
Yeah sure, go watch the last streams.
QROIER ASKS FOR ATTENTION FROM HIS HUSBAND and I mean A LOT, not constantly, but when Cellbit is around Roier follows him everywhere, flirts with him, jokes a lot.
Christ, the dude put on his husband's clothes.
You mean to tell me Roier isn't as in love as Cellbit? They have different ways of expressing it. Roier demands ATTENTION.
And if you are still not convinced, in the Nether stream you could clearly see how when Pierre tried to flirt with him, Roier immediately looked towards Cellbit for help.
When the elections were over and they went to see the fireworks, Roier was looking at Cellbit.
During the debates, he was always by his husband's side and AGAIN when Pierre flirted with him he CLEARLY replied with "thank you but I'm married".
These things get so overlooked because Roier tends to be more of the funny type of guy and not the romantic one as Cellbit is, but I can assure you this man is down bad as much as his husband is, they just have a different way of expressing it.
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its kinda wild living in a house full of people you hate and i apply that to evan a lot.
like yeah you could spend a day with this person and laugh andhave fun but you will inevitably be reminded of why you hate them and why you cant get along with them and its because they make no effort to be kind to you.
The only time michael treats him like a person is when harassing him isn't the most fun thing to do at the moment. like if he wants to watch a movie, he'd totally sit beside evan and put on a movie for the two of them. he'd totally get snacks and maybe even invite elizabeth bc watching a movie alone without snacks is boring! but even adfter that he'll turn around and pull the same cruel pranks.
but that tiny moment of normalcy existed, and evan is then thrust into a painful reminder of where he is.
eventually he'll stop enjoying those little moments. eventually they'll become less and less. eventually he won't want anything to do with michael ever, and those little moments are something he'll turn down because whats the point? its just a different form of emotional abuse he recieves with this back and forth that he cant understand because michael wont HELP HIM because michael will hand him something nice and smack it out of his hands because michael does what michael wants and evan just. doesnt get it
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💧 rain for the weather asks babey fuck me up
💧Rain - What's the most emotional scene you've ever written?
OHOOOOO we have so many contenders because i love writing sad shit—i got so many you could probably ask me this question several times and get a different answer LMAO. but honest to god i think sword of a great hero is my most painful excerpt because it’s just… the calm before the storm. lath and ensio both know they’re gonna die. and just UGHHHH.
since it seems that in haven’t posted this excerpt on this version of my blog have it in its entirety here and cry :)
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“This will be our final stand.” Lath touched a hand to his chest. He could feel the sluggish bleeding from under the gash in his armor that lead to the gaping wound in his upper abdomen, just underneath his ribcage. There was no one to heal him now — hadn’t had anything like that since they started this death march — at this point his nerves were beyond the point of registering pain. The others who’d joined him were long dead now: either picked off or mauled, died with a fight gnashing in their teeth, or a whimper absolving from their throat. Only two of them from the initial 33 warriors remained, and somehow Lath always knew it would come to this.
Ensio stood astride him, his regal bow broken and long forgotten. Lath had given him his second sword to wield in its stead, and the grip was slightly off, and the blade shorter than he remembered Ensio liked, but it would do. Neither of them fought with the expectation to live. In the clearing where they stood, a large, curled structure rose, towering to almost the heavens above them and was teeming with magic so strong that Lath could practically smell it. The Labyrinth. The voice of Their Lady MUINENS boomed from the heavens. As your final stand, you will drive them to their dungeon.
“Aye.” Ensio’s usual baritone was a rough wheeze. If they’d had time to rest, to heal, Lath would’ve guessed it was a punctured lung. He’d taken a claw to the sternum hard in a battle days before, and had been wheezing since. Lath could not offer him any comforting hand… Ensio wouldn’t have wanted it either. But the two men stood beside one another, waiting for their cue
“What do you suppose Cerullius is like?” Ensio garnered to ask. Though he’d assured Lath it was fine that the grip was off — better him, the regular sword wielder, have the better blade after all — he was still fidgeting with his grip, whirling it between his fingers, like the drills they ran together as boys. “Do you think it’d be as warm and comforting as a fine pair of tits?”
“Even on your deathbed, you’re a lech.” Lath’s golden eyes scanned the horizon. It seemed fitting that they would die on the brink of a beautiful morning. That the land here was so wholly unfamiliar but was beautiful somehow. There were no trees or swamps or lakes around— only a large expanse of grassland and short, wiley flowers that had the audacity to bloom. If Lath were a more poetic man, he would pity them. Soon they would be covered with blood, and guts, and entrails, and stinking corpses, of beasts who refused to be herded, and the bodies of two Terraneans who dared to pretend they were shepherds.
“It’s not as though either of us would ever know.” Ensio mused, but not unkindly. “Your horrible habit of unblinking deterred so many.”
“Yet your horrible beard drove off more.” Lath quipped back and the rumble of a chuckle that left Ensio, even as he continued to bleed, made a quirk of a smirk tug at Lath’s lips.
“I would offer to let you experience it on my own chest, as a parting gift,” Ensio started. “But I’m afraid this armor is too hard to remove one handed.” Lath’s eyes flickered back from the horizon to his friend. His left arm still hung only barely in its socket enough to be a meager semblance of functional. If they had anything to cauterize it, Lath would’ve offered to cut it off for him— spare him the dead weight. But they didn’t. And Lath didn’t want to watch his friend bleed out. At least in the frenzy of battle, Ensio’s final cry would hopefully be the only thing he’d witness of it. He had stared death in the face since the day he was born, yet the thought of it cradling its welcoming hands around his closest friend wasn’t something Lath could reconcile with himself.
“Do you regret following me?” Lath asked suddenly. A wind had begun to pick up from the west and both men turned to face it. Though they could not yet hear it, Lath knew Ensio’s sharp, hawk brown eyes would’ve been able to pick out the first details of the beasts and monsters headed this way. He would see their horns, feathers, too wide jaws, inhuman structures and limbs. He would see them fleeing towards what would become their new sanctuary— or prison. The Labyrinth gleamed like a gem in the climbing morning light, with its two guards to usher in the onslaught. The creatures’s flight was brought on by their own gods, they both knew. And though neither men could see them, they’d had more proof than they had in their entire lives that those beings they worshipped were tangible. That they were there.
“The only thing that I regret is not having a roll in the sack just once before I died.”
“Be serious.”
Ensio turned to Lath. And as always, his eyes were dark with a wisdom Lath never claimed to understand, and never would, not as long as the two of them were alive. They turned soft with something like fondness. “I would rather die a hero by your side than waste away in Ubwyn, surrounded by every waking reminder of those I’ve failed.”
“You haven’t failed.” Lath couldn’t help but growl. Yet, Ensio went on calmly, unperturbed by his outburst.
“My mother died. My brothers, my sisters. We couldn’t bury them, we could only leave them behind. It’s not the little king’s fault, nor Zenith’s, nor yours. I just know my father will be heartbroken that he will only see me in Cerullius, not his love, nor the starlight’s that lit his life. If I die by you, Lath, maybe our journey to Cerullius won’t be so horrible. Maybe I can use this as penance for not guiding the rest of my family home.” He let out a shuddering breath—a wheeze. “It’s not a bad death, to die by my truest, dearest friend.” Lath could only hum. And as the shrieking and wailing of the beasts drew near, Lath let his hand over his wounded chest go limp, and he shuffled to Ensio, pulling the taller man into a tight, crushing hug. His armor plates cut Lath’s cheek, and the hug was far too tight for either of their aching ribs but it was important and needed and real. Ensio pulled back first.
“Our people will remember you, Lath. As the hero you were always meant to be. Even if you never received your Oracle’s Blessing, your valor is worth far more than that.”
“What was your Oracle’s Blessing En?” Lath couldn’t help but ask. It wasn’t a secret commonly shared but he suddenly felt that he needed to know. Ensio’s tired lips quirked into a bemused smile.
“To play the sword of a great hero.”
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