#I don't really know what this is

[drarrily-we-row-along]

"Oh, Merlin," Draco said, voice tinged with that particular tone of vindictive glee that could only mean that Harry was about to get an ear full of gossip.

"What?" he asked as he poured coffee into Draco's mug.

"Thank you," Draco said as he tipped his head up, puckering his lips in search of a kiss.

Obviously, Harry obliged him, chest warming at the casual way Draco displayed affection. When he pulled away, he pecked Draco on the tip of the nose before going back to the stove top where he was cooking their eggs. "What were you going to say?" he prompted.

"Oh," Draco said, and even without looking, Harry could tell he was perking up, squaring his shoulders and grinning as he asked, "Did you read the paper this morning?"

"You know I don't read that garbage," Harry replied as he waved a hand at the toaster to put their toast down, whole wheat from him and rye for Draco.

"But you'll never guess the juicy details of this power couple's break up," he said.

"Power couple, huh?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes.

Draco hummed around a sip of coffee, "Mmhmm. They say they're on the rocks after one of them cheated with Neville Longbottom."

Harry laughed, "Ridiculous. Neville's not that type of bloke, he'd never be privy to something like that."

"Not so, according to this paper. They say that the slytherin snaked his way right into Neville's bed."

"Isn't Neville's bed also Blaise's bed?" he asked as he put their eggs on plates and brought them over.

"It is, but the paper doesn't seem to know it." He accepted his plate, "Thank you, love."

"Don't mention it," Harry replied as he plopped down across from him.

Draco grinned at him, his foot rubbing over Harry's calf. "Just wait until you hear the rest. Apparently Neville's been his side piece since their 8th year at Hogwarts."

"Who?" Harry asked, frowning and trying to get a glance at the newspaper.

"Why, me of course," he said with a grin. "Potter, don't you know that I'm an incorrigible flirt, that I'll bed anything that moves? I'm such a trollop."

Harry laughed, "Yes, they've really got you pegged," he said reaching across the table to take Draco's hand. "My sweet, loving husband who'd never so much as looked at another man's penis before we got married is out sleeping with anything that moves. My darling spouse who gave me his first kiss, definitely out whoring around now."

Draco grinned at him, "Well don't spoil all the fun of my sex-capades. If they want to believe I'm running around, may as well let them."

"You're mine," Harry murmured, bringing Draco's wrist to his lips to press a kiss to his tender skin. "All mine. And I don't care what the world thinks as long as you know it."

Cupping his cheek, Draco leaned across the table to brush a soft kiss over Harry's mouth. "All your's," he agreed. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

--------------

Read more of my fics, if you'd like.

[shaunashipman]

"I'm sorry." "Don't be. I am at least allowed to mourn my losses." RHAENYRA APPRECIATION WEEK 2023 Day 07: Free Choice

[sherrymagic]

Neo Trai as BOSTON and Mark Pakin as NICK ONLY FRIENDS | BEHIND THE SCENES

— insp.

[krirebr]

the softest thought 🥺💕 ransom doing his best to make you bread pudding despite his first attempt resulting milky bread and scrambled eggs 😭 and he brings it to you on a little wooden tray with a fancy spoon and everything bc he's practically turning into a high strung housewife the longer he's with you

bone apple teeth!! jk im sure he speaks french

Uggggggggghhhhhhhhhh, Brandy!!! The feelings!!

And he knows how hard everything's been lately, so when he brings it to where you're zoned out on the couch, you immediately burst into tears.

"Fuck," he says. "Is it that bad??" And he's clearly starting to close off, even as you're looking at him, shaking your head.

"No," you say, emphatically through your tears. "It's my favorite! And you made it for me! Because you love me!" And everything comes out garbled because you're crying so hard, and he's staring at you like you've grown an extra head. "And I love you so much!" you continue, making grabby hands at him until he sits down next to you. "Because you do shit like this!"

He settles into the couch, and you press yourself into his soft sweater, still crying, but now you're eating too. "Ok," he says slowly, still clearly confused. "So the bread pudding is good? You like it??"

[llovelymoonn]

i’m not really sure who i am or what my childhood makes me

kate rushin crusa prays for herself \\ @janasojka​ night landscapes \\ @sandmoonyelse​ \\ clarice lispector a breath of life (via @flowerytale​) \\ merita jaha angst \\ rob horning speaking to no one \\ maxim fomenko no face #5 \\ eric carrazedo identidade #2 [“identity #2″] \\ kim addonizio what is this thing called love: “body and soul”

kofi

[the-whispers-of-death]

i miss stone x henna!artist reader how are they

Here is where we left off with them. This isn't going to be like a whole Drabble, just a little "what are they doing" type of thing.

Unfortunately Stone is back on deployment, but you (Henna Artist!Reader) are constantly dreaming about the small smile he graced you with weeks ago and the way you wanted to kiss him. Your dreams were filled with scenarios of where you had kissed him after helping him take off his shirt when he was injured. You thought about the cute noises he would've made, the way you would've made that mountain of a man melt in your arms.

You went on with the doing tattoos, henna, and piercings for your other clients. Your days were busy but he filled your thoughts at night.

You missed him.

Stone was counting down the days until the end of his deployment, or hell, maybe he'd finally use the leave the military gives its soldiers and visit home for a little bit so he could see you again sooner. He constantly thought about your fingers brushing against his then bandaged abdomen, how he wished you had been able to feel the skin beneath the bandages. He imagines your touch against his old battle scars wouldn't make his skin crawl, but rather make him relax. He thought about how close you two had been the last time he had seen you and he thought about how he wouldn't have minded you taking his first kiss.

He went on with patching up soldiers, having their backs while on missions. His days were hectic to say the least, but his nights were calmed by memories of you.

He missed you.

[librathefangirl]

My Fear (My Weakness?)

ao3 (Chapter 1/1; 500+)

Zeldris had never been good at trusting. His father had made sure of that. Growing up, the number of people he could trust would have his back was limited. The people he could trust would have his back without expecting anything from him in return even fewer. There were only two people he fully trusted. This random stranger was not one of them.

Warnings: Needles, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse.

Still working on my other stories but - I got vaccinated today. It hurt. So, I decided to torment Zeldris a bit too (plus I got bored having to wait).

Modern AU?

Read on ao3 or under the cut!

The thing was, realistically speaking Zeldris knew there was nothing dangerous happening here. Well, maybe there was . He was trusting a complete stranger to inject poison into his body. 

Zeldris had never been good at trusting. His father had made sure of that. Growing up, the number of people he could trust would have his back was limited. The people he could trust would have his back without expecting anything from him in return even fewer. There were only two people he fully trusted. This random stranger was not one of them. 

Of course, this was not a life or death situation - but it could be. He could be assassinated at this very moment. By his own fucking volition.

Maybe the real problem was that Zeldris couldn't shut off his own brain?

This stranger had no reason to want him dead, and Zeldris had no reason to fear for his life at any given moment. Not anymore. Meliodas made sure of that. Their father couldn't ruin their lives anymore. That knowledge did little to help ease Zeldris’ fear. Obviously. This wasn't about death. Zeldris had never really feared death. He had walked hand in hand with it for so long, it lacked that power over him. This was about something far more… stupid.

Zeldris didn’t like needles. They hurt and – He hated this. He hated how that small fact turned discomfort into fear. He hated the way the sight of the needle would make his heart beat fast. He hated how weak it made him feel. More than anything, Zeldris hated being scared.

His father had hated it too. Zeldris could still remember the look he had given him when Zeldris got scared of thunder as a kid. To his father, fear was a weakness, and weaknesses were to be crushed.

But Zeldris didn’t know how to stop being scared. Even when he knew there was no reason to be. In the same way, years later, he still didn’t know how to stop feeling like a failure whenever he got scared. Everybody got scared – Zeldris knew this. He also knew his father had been wrong about so many things. He was wrong about this too. There was nothing wrong with being scared.

Knowing that didn’t help Zeldris from feeling weak.

A hand brushed against Zeldris’ back. In an instant, he remembered how to breathe without feeling like he was going to pass out. It was like that brief, fleeting touch knocked the air back into his lungs.

Being scared was okay.

Meliodas grabbed the back of Zeldris’ chair – not reaching out to hold him, but still keeping that grounding touch between them. He was talking. Telling some story in an upbeat, soft tone. Just like he had done during thunder when they were kids. Zeldris felt himself drawn to his big brother’s voice. He focused on it; not wanting to think about the needle anymore. Meliodas was talking about Elizabeth. He always seemed to be talking about Elizabeth nowadays. Zeldris found he didn’t really mind. He was slowly learning that maybe he actually had three people he could trust. After all, Meliodas trusted Elizabeth, and Zeldris trusted his brother.

Being scared was okay. Because Zeldris wasn’t alone. Maybe their father had been wrong, or maybe being scared really made you weak. It didn’t matter. Zeldris wasn’t alone. He didn’t need to be strong every single moment. He could be scared, he could be weak.

He wasn’t alone.

[morningstar-chronicles]

haha! but i'm not a real person though?

[bioware-bard]

Seated in Sentiment

Seated in Sentiment (1871 words) by bioware_bard Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford Characters: Cullen Rutherford, Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan (Dragon Age), Jim (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Romance, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Kissing, Plotless, One Shot Summary: The Inquisitor would like her Commander to take a break. (yeah, that's it. this is just a random, fluffy scene that wanted to be written.)

[wolfwind3etc]

An untitled poem for @the-arch-hive and Archtober day 1 - prompt "radiant"

---

Blood

and pain.

My empty womb clenches

and I cry out -

again - voice ragged by now.

But I keep my hands gentle

on my baby.

My son.

I look at Cain's tiny face

and I cannot imagine

missing the Garden.

Adam smooths my hair,

leans close, and whispers,

"You are radiant."

[silentfrgmnt]

[morg-among-the-stars]

I'm incredibly grateful that, if I have kids, they can grow up with better representation than I did

From a purely scientific standpoint, if I find some fancy science that allows me to have kids with my partner (if we want them in the future; this is a hypothetical), there's a good chance my kid would be some type of neurodivergent, a very good chance

And I want them to grow up without the shame of being different

Even outside of school systems handling things poorly, and teasing from kids, from external sources of bullying and finger-pointing

I mean the internal shame of feeling different

Of looking at a group of kids playing on the playground and wanting to join in but not knowing how. Not knowing what to do

Or not getting why people look at you funny when you're really smart about a niche thing

Or not understanding why lights can buzz and why the tightness of your shoes can throw your entire day off

In having things like How To Dance in Ohio or the new Monster High series with characters that take pride in the things that make them different and learn their strengths, and learn how to adapt with obstacles and challenges, any future kiddos I have won't feel so alone

It's representation I wish I had when I was little, or even when I was a little older

When I was diagnosed, all I had was Sheldon Cooper, or Sam from Atypical, or Dr. Shawn Murphy. I had my mom in my ear, "You're like Sam," or sometimes like Sheldon, or like Rainman

Whatever gripes I had with looking too masculine as a kid, those comments didn't help

I could not see myself like that

I had to scrounge and find myself in other forms

I had one book, one (Rogue by Lynn Miller-Lachmann) that talked about an autistic girl

One in an entire school library

And you bet I held that scrap close to my chest

But I aged out of middle school books eventually

At a point, I just made things up when I couldn't find more Rogues

I wanted nuance, I wanted middle-grounds, I wanted something for adults

Something a little more

And, yes, I see the irony, and hypocrisy, in my "Payton Hobart is autistic" headcanon

But that was the nuance I wanted; a morally compromised, but not villain, not exactly hero, could be like me. His strengths could be shown along with the concrete thinking and emotional faults. Side-note: There was also, in my mind, a softer edge to Payton than every other representation I saw. A soft edge that I can explain, but it doesn't make much sense to anyone else. His queerness (eat my dust, Ryan Murphy and Co.) was that soft edge, intersectionality that crosses over with emotional faults

Actual, explicit representation that's positive came later in my life and I'm more than grateful for it

I can still hold onto all the headcanons I want, but I don't depend on them anymore

I can see myself in multiple facets

And not feel so alone

And any neurodivergent or "societally different" kiddos I have or don't have can feel more seen

[coffincanary]

John Werewolf AU anyone? 👀 (CW Wincest, cannibalism/heart-eating, injury/gore, biting, general weirdness to be expected) John gets turned on one of his earliest hunts when he barely knows what he's even doing and is just starting to write his journal. He knows he shouldn't return home, but yet, what other choice does he have? They just lost their mother, and now their father, with that thing that killed Mary still out there? It's out of the question. Of course, it's hard. Being around his boys with that hunger gnawing at him every time he hugs them and hears their tiny little hearts thump against his own chest. The animal hearts he forces himself to eat are disgusting, but it's enough to keep him going, enough to not go crazy and do something horrible. Though that's not good either, because the livestock killings quickly attract the attention of other hunters. And John knows that if he is discovered, Dean and Sam might get killed too, because they'd be assumed to be monsters too. So John is forced to improvise. When he kills a vamp on his next hunt, he eats their heart. It's... surprisingly good? Tastes like moss and dirt. It's the best heart John has ever eaten. Maybe because the thing used to be human. But it takes that edge off the hunger that makes him sometimes poke Dean's chest hard enough to leave a bruise. He begins eating the monsters he hunts. Some of them taste absolutely horrid. Wendigos are the worst, and werewolves too. Others taste just fine. He gets a taste for vamps. Others make him experience a kind of drug trip - fae creatures, the occasional minor god, makes him see shapes and colors giving him new understandings of the universe he can't remember when the high wears off.

He still hungers for his boys. He knows it. Dean and Sam know about monsters. Dean knows that their father is one, too. Caught John eating a cow heart years ago. They don't speak about it, just share the implicit promise not to tell Sammy. Eventually, John trusts Dean enough to come along on hunts. During their first one, Dean gets the kill and carves the monsters heart out for his father. It almost makes John weep. John still knows he won't be able to control himself forever. Dean's growing older, and with that come feelings for his son, feelings he tries to suppress because they were reserved for Mary, but ones that shove to the surface, letting his gaze linger on the soft curves of Dean's back or the way Dean stretches like a cat, feline and agile. Different kinds of hunger mixing, and John knows that if he ever touches this boy, it's gonna end with eating his son, too. The hunts don't make it better. Dean moves with an affinity and efficiency that almost scares John, killing and getting his hands bloody without a seconds thought. A beautiful killer by John's hands, and one so devoted to his father that he'll break open a ribcage without even blinking. John knows what he needs to do. One night they go on another hunt, a rugaru camping out in a forest. Except that there isn't a rugaru. And when Dean turns his back to his father, John pounces. Pushing Dean to the ground and digging his teeth deep into the back of Dean's neck, tearing flesh. His boy cries out in pain, struggles even, but of course, John is stronger, holding Dean down as his boy bucks. John holds his teeth there, fangs piercing deep, a low growl emerging from his throat as his son quits his struggle, going limp below him. Only quiet, pained whimpers escaping Dean to show that he hasn't passed out. John stays lodged inside his boy for a good minute until he lets go, lips smeared with Dean's blood. His boy is trembling below him, crying softly, and John makes sure to lick the blood of his neck and whispering murmured praise as grabs Dean and pulls his son on his lap, Dean's heaving back pressed against his chest. Dean stops crying eventually, the shock of the attack wearing off. His boy hasn't said a thing, hadn't asked a single question, as if he knew what John was doing. John was still licking the blood off of Dean's neck when the wounds finally begin to heal under his tongue, flesh knitting together. It is only then that Dean slumps against his father, utterly exhausted, beautiful green doe-eyes red with cried tears. "You did so well.: My boy." John mutters, as he kisses his sons sticky lashes, and then his forehead, tiny kisses he hadn't allowed himself before, and is now because Dean deserves it, deserves them. Dean lets him, leans into it, turning on his father's lap so he can bury his face in John's leather jacket when it gets too much. John presses his face into Dean's soft hair, taking in his scent. Dean's heart thumping against his own chest, slowly calming. John is still hungry.

[manintheblackcape]

Can we talk about how weird it is Sephiroth's shadow is felt throughout the entire game and yet he has no real relationship with any of the characters, other than Cloud? He has established connections with many party members, but he's either unaware of those connections, or just doesn't care. The rest of the party don't matter to Sephiroth because it's all about Cloud (and that's not me trying to make this gay. Sephiroth is just obsessed with this one dude that can beat him in a fight).

Sephiroth doesn't know Vincent had a history with his mother and father, and Hojo never told him he was his father (but it's hinted that Sephiroth might have always known?), so this entire subplot with Vincent and Hojo goes unnoticed by him and he never learns it ever happened.

Tifa went through so much shit in Nibelheim and was just as emotionally devasted by everything that went down that day as Cloud, but Sephiroth doesn't care about Tifa beyond using her as a tool to exploit Cloud's insecurities. Tifa's own personal vendetta towards Sephiroth gets overshadowed by Cloud's personal vendetta. Tifa's trauma kinda gets overlooked by the narrative because her tragedy over losing her father gets lumped together with Cloud's tragedy over losing his mother. Both of them have personal beef with Sephiroth and he only cares about one of these rivalries.

And that's interesting because it didn't have to be Cloud. The entire point of the flashback reveal is the revelation Cloud is not special. It could have been ANYONE. Sephiroth is not obsessed with Cloud because he respects him as his true equal or had this complex history that Cloud deluded himself into believing, no, Sephiroth is just obsessed with Cloud because a faceless trooper killed him by pure luck and shear stubbornness. Had Tifa not gone running in screaming bloody murder so Sephiroth had all the time in the world to counter her attack, and instead did what Cloud did and shanked him from behind while he wasn't looking, she might have been the one Sephiroth chose as his fated rival that night. This nobody tour guide from a backwater village who took out the Shinra's greatest SOLDIER, and he took that personally.

You'd think at the very least the writers would play into the established dynamic of Aerith and Sephiroth's roles as thematic foils in the story. Cloud might be his character foil, but Aerith is the only one who can defeat Sephiroth in a way that matters. He will always come back to life as long as Cloud remembers him, but Aerith is the only one who can stop him in his tracks. They are so similar, yet different, and not just in character design. They both had pretty fucked up childhoods at the hands of Hojo, and made to feel special in the worst ways possible. He believes himself to be a cetra, while she is the last of the cetras. He has the black materia, while she has the white materia. He is fire and sky, while she is water and earth.

And the story doesn't seem to care enough about this narrative parallel in the same way it does about Cloud idolizing Sephiroth and wanting to be just like him. It's even confirmed in one of the books these two hang out in the lifestream and yet they never talk! They just keep their distance out of fear one will consume the other. You could have had this fun dynamic with them playing chess games with Cloud as Aerith's knight, but it never goes there. There's so much wasted potential here.

Not including Crisis Core, where they actually have to give him human connections for the story to work (and even then Genesis and Angeal are conveniently not around that much before defecting Shinra early on in the game), even his relationship with Zack is kinda left to the player's interpretation as time is played very loosely in CC (this game feels like it takes place over the course of several weeks and yet Zack has been on vacation no less than 6 times. Even Zack's friendship with Cloud isn't nearly as developed as it should be considering how little screen time they have together before Nibelheim). The game shows cut scenes of Sephiroth and Zack growing close as friends, but Zack spends most of the time being annoyed at Sephiroth for dumping all his assignments on him or they only ever talk about Angeal and Genesis. Their hinted friendship in FF7 OG is way more interesting than what we actually got.

[silkenblankets]

I crawl out from my grave

A six foot climb leaving my fingers red and raw

A tombstone behind where I show my face

The engraving is worn, red flecks cling to the stone

A title placed above my monstrous head

"GRIM WATCHER"

And they thought to take my precious sight

Trophies

A staggering creature steps out from my grave

Eyes gouged

Revealed a void of incomprehensible horror

Insatiable vengence

Sight.