#but no !!! totally different thing going on here !!!

[ao3commentoftheday]

do you have any advice on what to do when you know your writing issues are connected to wanting a community, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t find a community? or you know that if you go ahead and write for the rarepair/fandom/character of your heart, you’ll have no one to write for and look like a total loser? there are some fandoms i want to write for so bad, but i know no one would ever read anything i write, and i can’t find a point in writing when that’s the case.

I really want to give you a hug, anon 💗 You're being so mean to yourself, and you really don't deserve it.

Why are you so sure that no one will read anything that you write? And why do you think you'd be a loser if that were the case?

Community is a really important part of creating for a lot of people. They draw energy and motivation from sharing ideas and getting excited about each other's art. They get inspired by talking to other people about their projects or about the source material or about a shared love of a trope.

But from what you wrote here (and I could be wrong, this is just one paragraph), it sounds like you need a community in order to find your self-worth. You are describing your success or failure, your value or lack thereof in terms of what other people think about you and whether they react to your work.

You are good and important and worth knowing whether other people read your fic or not ❤️❤️

When it comes to finding a community, I recommend starting with just one person. Find someone who's blog you like or whose writing or art you enjoy and reach out to them. Send an ask. Drop a comment. Try a DM. Whatever you're comfortable with, get to know them a little and see if you want to be friends. Once you've got one person, it's easier to find more.

But at the same time that you do that, try to change the way you talk to and about yourself. I know it's hard and it might even feel awkward, but it makes a difference if you can keep it up. It even stops being hard after a while.

Remember that no other person's opinion is more important than your own. You created your work and you understand it best. Your first audience is yourself, after all.

You'll never be able to control what other people do - whether they read your fic or comment on it, whether they like it or hate it or leave a kudos.

Instead of thinking about those things, think about what you can control. Choose what stories you write. Do the things you're passionate about. Celebrate goals like word count or completing a fic or writing a really great line. Those are all achievements too, and none of them depend on the opinions of others.

It is really hard to separate your desire for attention or approval from your desire to participate in a fandom, and it's going to take time to untangle them from each other. But we're all here cheering you on, anon, and we'd love to help you on your way.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hello i have a sex ed question

i’m a 20 yr old virgin who just got her first boyfriend, and i know very little about how to, i guess, satisfy a penis outside of penetration. i am personally scared of oral (for irrational germ anxiety reasons) but i still want to be able to do something for him, so my question is: how does one give a good handjob (generally, because i know everyone is into different things but i’m totally clueless here), and is there anything else i could do that isn’t a bj or penetration?

hi anon,

1.) just asking him to jerk off in front of you is going to teach you a Lot more about what your boyfriend specifically enjoys than any generalized advice I could offer, and hopefully will be a lot more fun

2.) I cannot emphasize enough that you can do. literally anything. there are people for whom the most transcendent sexual release imaginable comes from watching balloons get popped. sex doesn't even have to involve genitalia, just start throwing things at the wall and see what happens. maybe literally, some people are also into that.

[arievanille]

A LOT OF YOU SCARED OF YOUR DR BC ITS DIFFERENT THAN YOUR CR

here me out, a lot of you could simply have better crs which you think is not that different bc you’re already living it here but if we’re being honest we’ve all scripted drastic things for our drs which is totally understandable yk, we live in an evil world.

anyway, you’re afraid of those things bc you don’t think you deserve it or simply because you’re afraid of change and let me tell you, me too.

but, you deserve those drastic things you’ve scripted, you deserve those people even if they’re famous, you deserve every scenario, it doesn’t matter how different the dr you’re shifting to is, you deserve it okay?

go look in the mirror and tell yourself that it’s okay. you’re afraid of change but God tells me everytime that when change happens it’s only a door opening for something greater.

you’re okay, and you deserve your dr, just like waking up here you deserve to wake up there too! take a breath and realize everything will be okay.

[ divider by @royallaesthetics — gif by @superrpenguin ]

[deanstead]

Going Home

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Reader

Requested: no

Summary: Y/N returns early from her time off but Derek notices something's off.

Word Count: 1.1K

Tags/Warnings: established relationship, allusions to physical violence (sorta?)

A/N: Of course, my first Derek Morgan piece has to be extremely self-indulgent. Enjoy!

Your cheek still smarted, as if it had just happened. The mark across your face had faded already, but anyone observant would be able to tell.

But of course, you had to work with the most observant people. They’d probably be able to tell what you were thinking even without such obvious signs.

The only thing you were thankful for was that they were probably not back yet. If you were quick, you could slip in, leave the signed form on Hotch’s desk and be out of there without running into Penelope.

Even with that thought, you put a mask on, just to be safe.

You’d asked for the week off for personal matters and only Hotch knew you’d been called home to check on your mother. As you'd already expected, Hotch had told you to take all the time you needed. No one know how much you dreaded going back there. Not even Derek.

You didn’t care that your parents considered you a disappointment despite the fact that you were working in the most elite team in the FBI. You didn’t even care when your father had hollered that he was cutting you off, and you didn’t care that they had never once remembered your birthday or even showed up for your graduation.

You didn’t care.

All you had wanted was to stay as far away as possible.

What you really hated was the way you caved when they called. You told yourself not to go, but the tiny voice in your gut wondered if there was something up, if there was something serious going on, and if you would regret it.

And you had. You regretted going back to that horrible house to stand in the living room as they asked you for money so they could send your brother abroad.

You opened your mouth and then closed it.

What were you supposed to say? Or ask? You were dumbfounded.

When you finally found your voice again, all your emotions flowed with it, “What am I, a cash cow?”

That had only earned you a tight slap across your face. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, but you didn’t remember him ever using this much force.

At least your mother and brother looked apologetic but you were no longer that teenager who had no choice but to take all this lying down. So you’d turned right back around and headed all the way back home.

Home.

You shook your head quickly. You hadn’t meant to get so lost in your thoughts. Grabbing a pen from your desk, you quickly signed the document and headed up to Hotch’s office, leaving it on his desk before hightailing it out of there.

You’d almost made it.

Until the elevator doors opened, and you were staring back at your team.

“Hey!” The chorus of smiles and greetings echoed in your ears, a treatment that was totally different from what you’d just experienced a few hours ago at what was supposed to be home, and you felt the sting of tears as you smiled.

You stepped to the side with Hotch as the rest of the team scattered.

“Y/N, we weren’t expecting you so soon. I told you to take the time you needed.” Hotch's expression was stoic as usual but his voice was filled with concern and you didn’t miss the way his eyes raked across your face even though he could only see your eyes.

You smiled and nodded. “It's handled. I just came by to hand in the HR form since I was back in town. I’ll be here tomorrow.” You paused. “If that’s okay.”

Hotch studied you for a while more before he nodded. “Tomorrow.”

You turned away to leave before you felt someone grab your hand.

“Where do you think you're going?” Derek’s warm voice filled your ears.

You hadn’t even realized he’d been waiting.

“Hey.” You smiled. “I was gonna call you when I got home.”

Even as you spoke, your eyes darted upward. You’d been dating for a while, and the team knew, but both you and Derek had kept it pretty low-key especially around here.

“Fine, come here.” Derek said quietly, almost dragging you to his office, closing the blinds and shutting the door behind the both of you.

You blinked at him, and the frown reappeared on his face now that the both of you were alone.

“Why are you wearing a mask? Did you catch something?” He asked, his voice dropping to one of concern, the gentle tone that was reserved just for you when you were alone.

Before you could say anything, he put his hand up to feel for a temperature.

Instinctively, as if you couldn’t control your own body, you flinched. It was just a little, like you were leaning your cheek away from him but this was Derek Morgan, and he caught it.

Derek’s frown deepened.

“Derek, I…”

He didn’t say anything, merely reaching behind your ears to take off your mask.

“Derek, wait…” You tried to stop him but it was too late.

The mask slid off your face. Derek slid his hand along the side of your neck, angling your face gently toward him so that he could take a look at what you’d been hiding from him. “Let me see.”

You recognized the moment his eyes registered the mark across your face. The quiet rage that flashed in his eyes as he realized you’d been hurt, the confusion about why you hadn’t come straight to him - you recognized them all.

“What happened? Who did this?” His voice was low and you could hear the concerted effort it took for him to keep his voice steady.

You looked back at him and you sighed. “It’s nothing, Derek. It’s done.”

Derek just looked back at you quietly.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel like pretending that it was okay anymore. You stepped forward, melting into the safety of Derek's arms as he pulled you tightly into him, his arms wrapping securely around you.

“I got you.” He whispered. “No matter what.”

You just nodded, burying your face into his shoulder, even though you weren’t really supposed to do this in the office.

“I’ll tell you at home.” You mumbled.

Derek just nodded, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Alright, come on. We’re going home.”

Home.

The word bounced around your skull and you smiled, knowing that this was it. You’d always told yourself that the day the words “going home” no longer made your heart sink, you’d know.

And you knew. You didn't have a single doubt in your mind.

Derek pulled away gently, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he led you back out of his office so the both of you could do exactly that.

[is-the-snake-video-cute]

Here's an odd one for you. Is there any science or methodology behind, for lack of a better term, "snake charisma?"

Phantom has a very curious passive talent: people seem to like him. Even people who profess to be uncomfortable around, or even terrified of, snakes. I've observed this phenomenon with both friends and family, as well as total strangers (like contractors who come to my house to fix/set up something). I'm always respectful of peoples' fears and phobias and never push anyone to go farther than they're comfortable with, and the boys always stay in their tanks unless otherwise requested. But somehow, people seem drawn to Phantom and willing to ask questions, take pictures, or even attempt to pet him. And among people who like snakes, he's a superstar! For his vet visits all the vet techs want to stop in and visit him. It's crazy!

I thought maybe this was just a ball python thing at first. Ball pythons are pretty docile and have silly little :3 faces so maybe they come across as more approachable. But I've noticed this same trend doesn't happen with my other bp Latte.

I haven't really noticed any significant behavioral differences between the two that might make Phantom seem more approachable than Latte. Phantom is more social and adventurous, but most people wouldn't know that right away if they're nervous about even getting near the snake tanks. So I'm wondering if there's something else at work here. Have you ever seen this phenomenon with your snakes? I know you do programs and have ambassador snakes so I'm curious if there's some kind of trait or trend for this.

I'm not familiar with any relevant research here, but some snakes just have very likable personalities!

Charisma (for lack of a better word!) is something that I need to consider for my ambassadors, and a lot of the time I find it ties into traits like being more social and confident. I think we often underestimate how much people and animals can pick up on each other's energy, and some snakes are more put off by a nervous person touching them than others, and sometimes people will feel better holding a snake that is behaving very calmly.

With my sweet bp Miriam, people will very often describe her as "friendly" even before they touch her, just from something about her demeanor and the way she moves. It's hard to describe, because snakes aren't very emotive animals, but I think people just can really pick up on the vibes!

[kelcemenow]

Things Never Change.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 462

Warnings Nothing to warn about here, it's all adorable girl Dad Travis!

Aaaand it's another Anon request! This one was quite vague and simple, so I just went with whatever my brain threw out! Fast forward to whenever Trav retires for this one...not that I want that to happen any time soon! "Travis kelce with his wife and kids at a game maybe superbowl"

"She isn't going to eat that, you know?"

Travis looked down towards the hotdog that he had been holding for a decent amount of time, with Maeve focusing all of her attention towards the action down on the field.

"Baby, you know I really got it for me, right?" He grinned with the corner of his mouth.

You gently nudged him with your forearm as you watched your daughter's chocolate brown curls bounce up and down as her head moved around.

"Do you miss it?"

Travis sighed a short laugh, "What do you think?"

The stadium roared around you as the Superbowl continued to play out in front of you, your feet vibrating in the stands, "I know, baby. Being back, it feels like 3 years ago all over again."

"It's weird. It feels so different being on this side of the field, but the place hasn't changed at all somehow." His gaze drifted upwards as he looked at the thousands of fans that surrounded him.

You noticed a slight smile as he looked upon the large 87 banner that hung down, his surname emblazoned on it.

You heart broke for your husband, "You know, if you wanna come out of retirement, I'd support you."

"I retired for us. For our family and our future. I couldn't stand by and watch you bring up our daughter alone."

You furrowed your brow, "I wasn't totally alone. You were around."

Travis sucked air in through his teeth, "Not enough. I wanted to be home with you and Maeve."

You both looked towards your 5 year old, her hands clapping together as she watched the Chiefs cheerleaders perform down at the side-lines.

"Besides, she's older now, it's a bit easier in some ways."

Travis told hold of your hands, his expression sincere, "Baby, I know you're trying to help, but I made my decision. Of course I miss it, I miss it every single day, but I want to be at home with you and our little girl."

Your eyes creased into a smile as you leaned down, picking up Maeve and resting her against your hip, her small hands clinging onto you. Travis grinned and ducked his head, laying a gentle kiss onto the top of her head.

Suddenly, the crowd bellowed, causing you to look out at the field for the reason for the noise. Instead, you noticed that your faces were showing on the screen towards the end of the stadium.

"Make some noise for Kansas City Chiefs legend, Travis Kelce!"

Travis held his hand out, a static wave to his adoring fans before turning the the side and bringing his arms up into his famous 'Archer' pose. You rolled your eyes quickly as the noise grew louder.

"Some things never change."

______________________________________________________________

And that's the last of my requests! I'm opening my requests back up so if you have anything that you want me to write, just get in touch! Also, if you want to be added to my Taglist, just let me know!

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[starhvney]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: garroth, laurance, dante, travis, zane, vylad, blaze, daniel, dottie, katelyn, lucinda, nana, & cadenza

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, slice of life, headcanons on the characters on a beach vacation!

𝐂𝐖: none!

𝐀/𝐍: justice for not including the zvahl siblings during love love paradise or starlight in mys, rip you guys would’ve loved a beach vacation. anyways it’s summer guys! i’m not even a huge fan of summertime but i kind want to go to the beach?? so weird cause i’m totally a zane when i’m at the beach

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇

☆ if it’s a surfable beach, he’s going straight out to the waves

☆ i mean, look at him, he looks like the classic surfer boy from the 2000s

☆ gets really excited if you surf too or want him to teach you

☆ he comes back to slam down some sandwiches before he tries to run back out. you have to pull him back and restrain him to put on more sunscreen and let his food digest.

☆ he always wants to stay or at least come back to watch the sunset over the ocean. it’s the best part!

𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

☆ also goes out to surf with garroth, but he’s not as good so he comes back to shore sooner than garroth does

☆ he’s the guy you go to for getting good beach pics, he just has that good artistic eye

☆ he actually prefers going out to the beach in the evening/at night, loves shell hunting and walking along the boardwalk when everyone is quietly fishing or minding their business. plus the weather is cool! he loves how peaceful it is.

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄

☆ this freakin goober 

☆ bro will purposefully let the ball out frisbee fall into the direction of groups of people he wants to talk or flirt with because so he can have an excuse to strike up a conversation

☆ when he gets bored he will be nagging everyone to go eat at the seafood restaurant “it’s like a five minute walk from here and i’m hungry guys, come on!”

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒

☆ professional swimmer here! well, not really, but he was really good at it in highschool! he competed and everything. someone always has to swim out and yell at him to not go out too far, cause he’s always trying to swim out to the third sandbar by himself

☆ comes back and his face and shoulders/back are always more tan because the sunscreen wore off and he was swimming all the time. (not the pale leg combo, is this just as bad as a farmer’s tan?)

☆ comes back starved from using all of his energy swimming and trying not to drift away from where you guys are on shore, ends upp eating too many sandwiches and everyone gets mad at him cause there aren’t enough

𝐙𝐀𝐍𝐄

☆ lathers himself in lotion and sunscreen and is either staying under the umbrella or dunking himself into the water

☆ he’s really not a fan of the beach, he’d rather vacation in the mountains or something like that, but he still goes since everyone else is going

☆ he just hates the humidity, the texture of the sand, and the stickiness of the salt water. it’s just not his thing

☆ he keeps how miserable he is to himself, but the silly little grumpy pout on his face says everything

☆ like someone get him a drink with a lil spike to it please the poor boy looks like he’s on the verge of death

☆ he’ll enjoy himself a lot more if you give him a sweet treat or if everyone goes to the pool after (except for the…incident)

𝐕𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐃

☆ so chill. he’s such a great guy to lounge with

☆ brings a book to read or a sketchbook, loves to sketch the different kinds of people on the beach and what they’re doing. (major people watcher)

☆ something about everyone else being busy and him being there so calm makes it so easy to get into a deep conversation with him, you two could talk for hours and not even realize the time has passed

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐙𝐄

☆ oh my gosh

☆ he’s all over the place

☆ wants to build a sandcastle! no, wait, that’s too boring! wants to play frisbee! dang it, he threw it too hard and now he’s running through the ocean like a madman trying to get it back from the waves! shell hunting? nah, he’s gonna race that person’s dog down the shoreline cause it barked at him so now he has to show him who’s boss!

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋 

☆ sandcastle building king

☆ spends the whole time dedicated to building the most extravagant castle, hauls a huge bucket of the sand molders and starts digging a moat immediately

☆ someone has to come regularly just spray him down with sunscreen cause he’ll forget the world around him and most definitely get burnt

☆ you might pull him away from building if you offer him a sandwich

☆ eventually you may learn that just bringing an extra umbrella and putting it over where he’s building is the best option

𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐄

☆ she wants to be at the beach to play, not relax!

☆ beach volleyball? she’s in until there’s no one left to compete with! (her and katelyn could compete against each other for hours) frisbee? heck yeah, she wants to play frisbee!

☆ she loves going to those outdoor showers to wash off all the sand, then is so excited and looking forward to the crazy good nap she’s going to have back at the hotel/condo/rent house. won’t wake up until everyone decides to go eat at a restaurant for dinner

𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐍

☆ if you can’t find any sunscreen, you can without a doubt go to her and she will have some

☆ gets super competitive with beach volleyball

☆ if no one wants to play volleyball anymore she ventures out into the ocean and doesn’t return until it’s time to leave

☆ if you’re not scared of going out too far in the ocean, she will go out with you to where you can reach the bottom and calmly jump over the larger waves. she could do it all day

☆ she’s another person you have a good bonding talk with while chilling out in the ocean, she opens up to you and you learn stuff you had no idea she had even experienced before

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀

☆ opposite of katelyn, has hawaiian tropic tanning oil on her at all times

☆ doesn’t go into the ocean unless she’s ready to go straight to shower off. can’t stand the sticky feeling of salt water and then going back into the sand

☆ is the one who brings the speaker, and she has such a good beach playlist

☆ sunbathes and sips on a drink the whole time, queen really enjoys herself

☆ she goes to whatever nearby beach bar there is to order the drinks that come in pineapples or coconuts and has the umbrellas in them for everyone

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀

☆ packs an entire picnic for the beach

☆ like, legit carries a full icebox with a selection of drinks and a bag full of sandwiches, chips, sweets, etc. 

☆ is obsessed with seashell hunting! she gets so excited when she finds large or colorful ones. she runs to everyone when she finds a conch shell telling them to listen to the ocean inside of it. brings home a small collection every time and has a box full of (mostly pink) seashells in her room.

𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐀

☆ has so many swimsuits and outfits planned

☆ if yours gets dirty or messed up she drags you to her suitcase to choose from like ten different pairs and combinations you can mix and match.

☆ makes handmade jewelry from different trinkets and shells she finds, she goes hunting for potential charms with nana

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[himejoshikomaeda]

we exist in the same discord server but it has a starylingly parasocial relationship with your account. can u talk about vampires

i'm absolutely not breaking any new ground here by saying this but being a vampire would absolutely be such a wonderful thing, right? i know there are a million stories about how it would totally suck actually but personally it sounds like a bunch of upsides to me.

can't go out while the sun's out (i hate going out while the sun's out)

get to drink blood (this one's a gimme. you get to use the vampire excuse but it's really just for the fun of it)

immortal?? (there are a billion stories about how it would totally suck to be immortal but ummm i'm built different sorry!!)

unholy flame grapple hook (self-explanatory)

cute fangs

so if any vampires are reading this please feel free to bury your teeth into my neck and do what you have to do!!

[hogans-heroes]

Ok so. The Bikeriders.

First of all, it’s very different than we thought, in a good way. It’s not an action or drama or crime film. It feels almost like a documentary because it’s shot in a journalist’s style with simple camera work and interviews and the story is told through the narration of Kathy and the journalist. It revolves around the snapshots of these people’s lives, who they are, why they’re here and do what they do, and it’s so beautiful and intimate and makes you fall in love with humanity like you’re in a anthropology class. You see how they see and love what they love. It’s so fucking powerful.

Ok side track to what we’re all really here for. FUKN BENNY.

Your life will be ruined by Austin within the first 10 seconds and you NEVER catch your breath afterwards. He doesn’t say too much and isn’t even on screen quite as much as I expected but he’s the heart of the whole film and oh boy what a beautiful heart. A TALL DAMN DRINK OF WATER THERE IS NO OTHER WAY TO PUT IT. I got lightheaded whenever he appeared. Plus we get him in a totally new look which I loved and am sure will be seeing in fandom. I literally have no words for his looks and voice and absolute badass behavior while also looking like a little kitten the entire time boy you out here ruining lives. One scene absolutely BROKE my heart I wanted to hug him so bad and it was a powerful moment in the narrative. But it was really hard to watch him get so beat up consistently over the movie.

The last SMILE we get from him??? Will kill all of us it will be the apocalypse I’m typing from the GRAVE you hear??? I’d vote the best smile we’ve ever gotten from Austin and THAT’s really saying something. I can’t say enough good things about the ending in general.

Tom Hardy is the ABSOLUTE mvp of this film, he knocked it out of the park.

(Mild spoilers under the cut)

I was so terrified Benny was going to die the entire time and the way the movie goes it really makes you think he will but he DOESNT DIE and I was SO GODDAMN relieved. That ending was so perfect and sad and poignant.

It REALLY IS a love triangle??? Like I was also shocked that there is zero sex scene or even a single kiss at all in a film like this, but the dialogue and chemistry whew boy….was very intrigued and happy to have things thus way even though it turned out sad.

[anthotneystark]

Wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face

It doesn’t happen suddenly.

Or, it does, but it’s a long time coming.

It’s a long time coming because it’s been coming his whole life. It’s been coming since the first time someone looked at him and said “it’s a good thing you’re pretty”. It’s been coming since the first time he heard someone say “beauty over brains”. It’s been coming since he was old enough to know that his dad was already planning on having to make connections to get him into a school of his choosing. He’s always known his book smarts were lacking, but it always hurt when he was reminded of it.

But it’s been more recent than that too.

It’s been coming since he felt that slick tail wrap around his neck. It’s been coming since Robin helped to change the bandages on his back. It’s been coming since the first date after everything ended with him going to bed alone because “I’m just not in the mood anymore” followed him pulling off his shirt.

It’s been coming since forever.

His looks have been his biggest asset his entire life, the only thing he could really use to get attention. And now there’s scratches in the paint.

After everything, when they’re finally safe, everything changes.

He doesn’t change, or he doesn’t think he does, because his habits are the same and his thoughts are the same and his nightmares are the same. But life slows down. And with it slowing down, he changes anyway.

Where once he was all lean, taut muscle, he softens. It’s still there, his daily runs and exercise are proof of that, but it’s a little more insulated.

(Robin tells him it’s because he’s been living with the stress of monsters for years, that feeling safe has pushed his body out of survival mode.)

It’s been coming though. With each comment from his mother about how he’s clearly eating too much junk food. With his father’s comments about how long his hair has gotten. With how girls’ eyes just skim right over him and move on.

It’s not all bad, of course. The kids, surprisingly, don’t comment beyond their usual teasing over things within his control – “stripes again? Don’t you have any other patterns?” or “why do you have to wear those shorts while you’re cleaning the pool?” which is usually followed by Eddie smacking whoever said it. Max makes exactly one comment, quietly, when it’s just the two of them still awake during a movie night.

“You’re a better pillow these days.”

Maybe it’s a joke, maybe she’s just being nicer with her teasing, but whatever her reasoning he likes it. When he thinks about it like that, being different doesn’t feel like a bad thing.

It doesn’t usually last long though.

So it’s not a sudden thing, until it is.

He’s not even totally sure what causes it. Some comment, sure, but the words themselves are in one ear and out the other. His parents are leaving for another trip, his mother comments about eating healthier while they’re gone, his father makes some dig that’ll lodge under his skin with all the other barbs he’s thrown at him for all these years.

All he really remembers is that a comment is made. The rush of heat and sour bile in his throat. The door shuts and all he can hear are overlapping echoes of all the comments that have ever been thrown at him. All he can feel is the tightness of the tee shirt he’s wearing the weight that no longer rests on his shoulders, but which is spread over his entire body. He finds himself looking into a mirror and suddenly cannot look at that any longer.

His hands shake and he doesn’t trust himself, but he knows where he can go.

It should scare him that he doesn’t remember the drive. It should scare him that he’s here but doesn’t fully know how he got here. But he doesn’t have room for more panic in his head. They’re past the point of knocking, of waiting to be let in, so pushing through the doorway of the trailer is a familiar motion. Eddie looking up and smiling where he’s strumming his guitar is a familiar sight.

The way his smile faulters and turns into a frown is less familiar.

“Stevie? What’s wrong?” He feels like he can’t breath, can’t possibly explain everything in his head, but he can’t just expect Eddie to read his mind. He’s not Robin after all.

“I need it gone. Off. I can’t…I can’t,” he manages, one shaking hand sliding into his hair and tugging, the pain grounding for just a moment. Eddie might not be able to read his mind, but he understands him these days more than most people. It’s an unlikely friendship founded in terror and fortified by countless hours in hospital rooms and new homes.

“Oh sweetheart. Are you sure?” He knows it’s extreme, but he can’t help what he needs, even if Eddie is concerned. He nods, swallowing hard. Eddie doesn’t try to talk him out of it, just pulls him to the bathroom and sits him on the edge of the tub.

“Lets start small, okay? And we can go as far as you need from there.” He wants to argue, but at the same time he knows it’s reasonable. And it’s Eddie. He trusts Eddie. He can’t make any words come out, but he manages a little nod. Eddie, doing what he does best, just starts talking. He’s not really paying attention to the words, but he doesn’t have to. He can feel the chill of the metal scissors, the soft rumble of Eddie’s voice, the too gentle fingers pushing and pulling him into whatever position is best. Eddie pauses now and again, a question in his eyes, but continues on when he sees whatever he’s looking for still lingering.

It's not until Steve feels his shoulders slumping, his hands loosening where they’re clenched at his knees, the chill of the breeze from the open window hitting skin that no longer feels boiling hot, that Eddie sets down the scissors. He feels lighter, doesn’t even care about the itchy feeling of stray hairs clinging to his clothes and skin.

When he finally looks in the mirror, his hair is shorter than it’s been in years. It’s not gone, not buzzed off, but it’s not the same as it was.

Neither is he though.

Eddie’s giving him a knowing look, one that says he’s got something to say but is holding off.

The cut itself is a little rough, but in a good way. It’s clearly not a professional sort of thing; he likes it more because of it.

“Thank you,” he whispers, exhaustion and relief hitting him in equal measures.

“You know, when I buzzed my hair, there were a lot of rumors,” Eddie says softly. “Stuff about my dad punishing me, about looking too girly before, that sort of thing. But really, it was just…so much going on all at once. My dad had just gotten arrested, mom took off, Uncle Wayne was stressed over having another mouth to feed. I felt like I couldn’t breath and just-” he makes a buzzing noise and mimes shaving through the mop of dark hair, which he’s got tied back today now that Steve can actually see it.

“Just had to get it off?” he asks.

“Yep. Needed it gone. Growing it back was a pain, but it was good too. Felt like a fresh start even if it was a little like trying to get back to where I used to be,” Eddie explains. It makes sense, at least to Steve. “So, you know, I get it. But I also know you’d have another breakdown if we shaved it all off completely,” he jokes. It’s enough to drag a laugh out of him.

It’s very Eddie, baring his soul while he’s helping to bandage a lost sheep, and Steve wishes he had the words to say how grateful he is. Instead, he just takes the towel Eddie throws at him and the soft, well worn clothes Eddie sets on the counter. He showers, pulls on a shirt for a band he doesn’t recognize, and breathes out a sigh of relief when the vice around his body finally, finally, comes loose.

Eddie doesn’t wait long once he sits down on the couch, immediately flopping back to use his thighs as a pillow while he goes back to strumming along to the music in his head. It’s a quiet moment, a safe moment. He doesn’t even notice as his head drops back to rest on the cushions, his breathing slowing as he finally feels light enough to rest.

Later, he’ll wake up with their positions reversed, with Eddie playing with his hair in a way that’ll make his brain turn into mush. Later, he’ll gather the courage to finally stop toeing that line of friendship and more that he and Eddie have been dancing on for so long now. Later, Eddie will hear everything that’s been in his head and will hold him down while he kisses every last insecurity and promises that it’s only made him more obsessed with him.

Maybe that won’t fix the insecurities, but that doesn’t mean Eddie isn’t going to make it very clear just how happy he is loving Steve exactly as he is at every point in time.

Because it doesn’t happen suddenly.

Or, it does, but it’s a long time coming.

[tedious-waffle]

Okay pleaseeee someone help me find this bucktommy fic i read but apparently didn’t bookmark and Cannot for the life of me refind.

Im farely sure I read it on ao3 but it could very well ahve been here on tumblr.

The main things I remember about the story:

Its established bucktommy, they’ve been dating for a couple of months. The like SCENE I remember is that tommy is at bucks loft, sleeping the night. Tommy wakes up and leaves a sleeping Buck in bed, and goes out to the balcony and thinks about like the future of their relationship.

Basically some great, angsty, insecure!Tommy worrying, scarred, and expecting the worst, anticipating end of his relationship with Buck.

I think he like thinks about how he went into this relationship expecting that it’d be casual and then Oops he fell head over heels for Buck FAST and now he’s just Waiting for his heart to be broken, thinking that Buck breaking up with him is inevitable. I can’t remember if Tommy’s anxiety is more generally just “oh buck’ll realize he can do better or will want to try other relationship” OR if its like specially the “buck’s going to realize he loves eddie” cliche, or maybe both. (Also, Tommy might even specifically talk about the concept of a “campsite relationship,” but i might be mixing that in from a different fic)

Tommy is like internally arguing with himself about whether to hold onto Buck for as long as he can have him but thus worsen his heart break which he sees as inevitable, or try to break up with Buck now to try to save himself the worse hurt.

After a while of Tommy angsting alone, Buck comes out to the balcony and they talk and Tommy explains his insecurities and Buck comforts and reassures him and is like “ Ilove you too you idiot” and yay happy ending.

I think about this fic so often and I want to reread it so badddddd. Please 🙏 if anyone know what im talking about hmu. (+ i mean, i’d be totally down for fic recs in the same vein too lol. I Love an insecure tommy fic lmao)

UPDATE: It has been found!

[cripplecharacters]

I'm on the planning phase of my WIP and I recently found out I probably have OCD (I'm just recently learning about it). While analyzing one of my OCs, a man who used to be very famous but lost most of his fanbase after a misinformation spread, I noticed he might have some obsessive thoughts about not screwing the fanbase he re-grew and has compulsively entered a new job and post too much on social media to protect his popularity, and this made me think of writing him as having OCD, but I'm not sure he could fit in the condition.

The problem is that he's supposed to be very vain and have excessive (and genuine) pride on his looks, saying stuff like "I know I'm gorgeous!", but I don't know if it's possible to make OCD only affecting his career-based thoughts and actions but never affecting how much he thinks he's hot. Do you think it could work to make him worry about if people really like him while he's sure physical appearance is not a problem?

@bertosenn:

I asked the question about the vain character with OCD but no insecurity about his physical appearance (April 14th 2024), but I realized I sent it as anon from force of habit. I thought it might be useful to send this ask not anonymously in case I feel like I need more information later, so if you think it'd be useful to tag me in the post, it'd be okay for me.

Hi!

OCD comes in a lot of different types/categories of intrusive thoughts, and each person with OCD will have a different experience.

It is totally reasonable for him to have OCD related thoughts about not “jinxing” his popularity, and that these thoughts never cross into insecurities about his appearance.

Mod Rock

Hi, I think that his OCD focusing on a traumatic/very stressful experience is very realistic!

If you want to include his focus on his appearance in his OCD, he could have compulsions around making sure that he still is as attractive as he is in his head. So he could compulsively brush his hair, or wash his hands (I know it's a stereotype but I do it lol it's very much real), or check his clothes, for example. OCD can make you have intrusive thoughts that go against the things you 100% believe in - in his case his looks - I think that it would make sense if it was included, and it wouldn't undermine his pride. For readers who have some knowledge on OCD, it could even strengthen this trait.

But I also agree with Rock - he can have zero connection between the two, and it would be completely fine! I think that whatever you do here should be alright.

I hope this helps!

mod Sasza

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

hello mod goldmary here is the promised essay about alear's gender

so. let's start with the obvious. the "dragons as a metaphor for gender" thing. it is very easy to slot Fell Dragon and Divine Dragon into agab and gender identity respectively. Alear was a Fell Dragon, now they're a Divine Dragon. Alear used to be their agab, now they're something else.

i don't have the spoons to find screenshots rn so uh. just take my word for it lol. but in Chapter 20, after Griss does the big reveal (which can be read as outing in this interpretation), Alear's friends assure them that they are who they choose to be, not what they're born as. Timerra literally says "if you wanna be a Divine Dragon, you're a Divine Dragon." actually fuck it we're going all in with the metaphor. so Chapter 20 in this interpretation is basically: Griss outs Alear and Alear gets (understandably) really distressed; they lose all confidence in themselves, they believe their friends are better off not associating with them, they feel like they've been lying to everyone, and they're worried that the people around them will see them differently because of this. Alear's friends assure them that it's okay, Alear is their friend, they're not lying about their identity, and they even affirm Alear's identity (see Timerra's quote above).

speaking of affirmation, let's look at a place where. there isn't much of it. yippee, Sombron's transphobic now. "No child of mine shall live as a Divine Dragon. Death was this one's inexorable fate" yeah fuck you too bitch. in Chapter 20, Sigurd mentions that Sombron "turned his back on [Alear]" and that Alear's "life was in danger." basically, Sombron disowned Alear for being trans and threatened them with physical violence, which unfortunately happens too frequently to trans people. Eveyle also disowns Alear in her boss dialogue in Chapter 21. i don't remember the words exactly but basically Eveyle calls Alear a coward for turning to Lumera (in this metaphor, finding a support network that affirms their identity) and says that they are not her sibling.

Sombron then kills Alear in what is obviously a transphobic hatecrime (this is a joke, the actual scene fits better as a metaphor for child abuse)

the Chapter 22 flashback (the one where tomato Alear commits PatricideTM) is. augh. as Alear is dying in Lumera's arms, they lament how they wish they could be more like her. Lumera is their role model. Lumera is everything they're not in their mind, even though they did something heroic. they are who they wished they were, but they can't see that beyond all the pain and trauma they've suffered. the fact that they're a Fell Dragon is at the forefront of their mind when they finally fall asleep. their last thoughts before the coma are literally their dysphoria like. ough agh ow.

can you tell i'm normal about past alear

also yeah. the blue hair is just. dragon transition. lol

i will admit i'm. not totally sure where Corrupted Alear fits into this metaphor. uh. BUT Emblem Alear is Alear fully embracing their gender identity. they've had doubts in their Divine-Dragonness before (aka they wonder if they're really their chosen gender identity), but here they embrace it. congrats to them on their transition. i've always wanted to make that joke. the really interesting part is that they don't totally reject their Fell-Dragonness, though. yes, their Emblem form is fully divine, but their normal form? still red and blue. there are multiple ways to interpret this and I love all of them equally.

oh yeah. Alear's immune to transphobia now. Griss rubs Alear's Fell Dragon lineage into their face, essentially saying that Alear will always be their agab in this metaphor. Alear's response? "Lol ok. why are you such a bitch." pop off king (gender neutral)

AND THAT BRINGS ME. TO CHAPTER 24. i have. an entire thing written about it. on my blog. lemme see if i can find it

OK HERE IT IS:

ok so if we're going with the idea that Alear is a trans allegory then

does that mean Past Alear's interactions with Alear in chap 24 could be read as gender envy

(incoherent word dump about Alear's gender thoughts under read more)

“this is like looking in a mirror. what I see... bothers me”

suddenly i am not normal. i am pointing and screaming and sobbing

it's like if you ever look at someone who is everything you wished you were, and you hate yourself for it, you hate how you are, you hate that you were born like this, and attaining that is so clearly unachievable, it is literally physically impossible to change the body you were born with to ever match that. you hate yourself for even having those thoughts in the first place, because this was how you have always been and always will be, no matter what

and you have no idea it is actually possible to change this, because you grew up with the idea that this is what you are, you have to fulfill that role like this this and this, and if you don't you're defective and wrong. if you want to throw that label away in favor of something else, you're a failure and don't have the right to live. you grew up with this label and it doesn't fit right at all, like a shirt 5 sizes too small, but you have no idea it's possible to change that label into something right. that label defines you and sticks to you everywhere you go, it defines your relationships with others, it defines your relationship with the world around you, and you wish you were born differently, that you weren't so aware of this crawling feeling in your skin.

but you push all of that aside, because if your father realizes you feel this way, he'll kill you, like he killed all of your other siblings, and that terrifies you. you keep walking down this path that you hate, because it's the safest option you have. and being safe is better than being yourself when you don't even know what "yourself" is.

----

tldr Past Alear has really bad dysphoria but can't really do anything about it because they don't even know being trans is possible. and also that trying to experiment is incredibly dangerous in this environment

again i want to point out how Present Alear doesn't reject Past Alear. in fact, they seem to come to a greater understanding of themself afterwards.

when it comes to like. the trans lens of Present and Past Alear's relationship, i've always seen it as Present Alear coming to peace with their dysphoria. Past Alear vents all of their frustrations with their life, with themself (Past Alear comparing themself to the Corrupted and then immediately following that up with how much they hate the Corrupted. ough), and Present Alear listens. they provide assurance to Past Alear, and though that assurance falls on deaf ears, Present Alear never stops being kind.

so. yeah. Alear trans :thumbsup emoji:

👀

[xhanisai]

Marinette can't stop talking about how amazing she thinks Chat Noir is to her wonderful boyfriend, Adrien. Adrien tries to act casual about it when she talks about him, but inside, his heart is doing backflips and popping off confetti cannons.

~(x)~

.

"Isn't he so amazing!? Look how he got that kid to smile and laugh whilst he saved her so that she wasn't scared!" Marinette babbled as she practically shoved her phone in Adrien's face, his lips still pursed in anticipation for their usual morning kisses only to see his alter-ego on the screen. Straightening his face, he watched the footage of himself from the last Akuma battle with a hum but he couldn't really understand Marinette's fascination with his actions.

Then again, since this was just a normal thing for him, everyone else's perspectives would be totally different.

"Y-Yeah. The little girl looks like she's having fun too." He plastered on a grin but his heart was also running a million miles per hour and he had no idea why. Maybe it was just his body's natural reaction any time his vigilante's identity was discussed?

"Not just that-- he also stayed behind when the healing light was cast and asked all the bystanders who were affected if they were okay! Chat Noir has such a good heart..." She brought the phone back to herself and stared at the screen with the most softest expression he'd ever seen her wear.

(So similar to the look she gave him back when he was suited up as Chat Noir and they danced across Paris and then...kissed.)

He couldn't stop the way his lips turned into a syrupy, lovesick smile at the sight of the love of his life. Had Chat Noir been someone else, he probably would have felt gutted at the sight of his girlfriend looking at someone else so lovingly.

Hell! He would have been akumatised right there and then and probably would have been on his way to pummel Chat Noir to a pulp for wooing his girlfriend so easily!

Thankfully, this was not the case and he could only melt as Marinette continued to ramble about how amazing his alter-ego was and how she wanted to fight the entire world for not giving him the credit he deserved. Oh, how he loved, loved, LOVED Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

"He is so sweet!" She was holding his hands now and they were spinning around in the courtyard like little children.

"So sweet~!" He chimed, all pink hearts and shoujo bubbles and he was practically floating on cloud nine.

"He deserves the world!"

"The world~!"

"We are Chat Noir's biggest fans!"

"The biggest~!"

As they continued to spin around innocently, gaining endeared smiles from some of the other students who happened to observe, Nino on the other hand was fuming with rage on his best friend's behalf.

Alya grimaced, pinching the bridge of her nose after realising what was going through her silly boyfriend's head. Here we go again.

"Why-- can you believe it!? That damn cat has stolen Marinette's heart away from Adrien! HOW DARE HE!!!"

.

Rockatear 2.0 commenced later on that day but Nino's unjustified grudge against Chat Noir remained, much to the poor hero's confusion.

.

~(x)~

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi there! If stardew requests are still open i would like to ask you for one. Recently in your writing Shane has been very sad, which is great for angst and o loved reading that but i think we can both agree our boy needs some rest.

I was wondering if you could write some good ol' fluffy fluff with him and the farmer with prompt number 20 ("You look amazing tonight").

If you're busy or closing requests or just don't feel like writing this one that it's totally cool, no pressure. I hope you have a great day

The Dance of the Moonlight Jellies.

A summer spectacle that Shane attended like clockwork. He only ever went because of Jas, staying away from the saloon just for one night. For her and Marnie's sake...as he didn't want his aunt talking his ear off about staring at the aluminum can in his hands more than the ocean.

That was in years past.

This year, however, was different.

Because it's the first time he'd be seeing it with you by his side, and boy..was he looking forward to it.

Both of you arrived together a bit later than the other villagers, but only because there was a lot of farmwork to take care of..and time quickly got away from you.

Fortunately, your spouse remembered and you practically rushed to the beach together, praying that Major Lewis didn't launch the boat yet.

You would have used a warp to get here sooner, but the first time Shane used one of the mini obelisks...the effects of teleportation made him horribly sick, and he vowed to never touch one of those again.

That was understandable, and you refused to leave him behind. So you headed through the dark town square and to the docks.

With luck, you managed to arrive in the nick of time.

Instead of idly standing alone with a beer in-hand, Shane stood with your hand in his own. He still liked keeping the PDA subtle, never wanting to make a huge scene out of your relationship in public--despite the whole town being there at your wedding--but you didn't mind it.

Once everybody got into their places to witness the event, Lewis lit the candle and finally launched the boat out into the open sea.

For a minute, there was nothing...

And then they arrived.

Hues of lavender, blue, and green began to illuminate the dark waters, which Jas excitedly pointed out to Vincent and Leo, the latter being mesmerized by the jellies--as was everybody else who managed to catch a glimpse of the magnificent creatures that came closer to the surface.

You chuckled softly at the wonder in that boy's eyes, thanking Yoba that you were able to rescue him from a life of solitary on that island and introduce him to life here in the valley, before looking back at Shane and realizing...

He wasn't staring at the jellies anymore, but you.

Tilting your head, you smiled a bit, wondering what was going on inside his head right now. "Something on my face?"

"No..it's just..." For a moment, he felt breathless, his head dizzy (not from any beer for once) and his heart fuller than ever.

All he could do was look at you. The bioluminescent glow from below highlighted your best features, the lights reflecting in your eyes like stars.

'Wow..how did a guy like me get so lucky?'

"Just what?"

Coming back to reality, he just grew bashful at your persistence, being grateful you couldn't see the rising blush on his face.

"You look amazing tonight," he said with full confidence, only to find himself holding his breath afterwards.

As though he were expecting some negative reaction from you..

Was that a weird thing to say?

Was he being weird again...?

Your soft chuckles pulled him out of those thoughts, and you leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Thanks, so do you..but then again you look amazing everyday."

He snorted, although internally he was dying..in a good way. "Even when I'm out on the farm all sweaty and dirty?"

"Hey, you always compliment me when I look like that."

"..true, but-"

"Woah.."

"What?"

"Look! Your mermaid pendant is sparkling." You pointed out his necklace.

"Huh?" Glancing down, Shane held the shell between his fingers for a few seconds, staring in wonder at the tiny pinprick lights dancing across its surface. "Ah..guess you're right. It's pretty sparkly." He chuckled, before noticing a peculiar jelly lingering in front of you two.

Unlike the rest, it was a seafoam green.

"Babe, look..that's a rare jelly!" He pointed it out, his smile growing as you gasped, holding onto his hand even tighter. "They're really something, huh? Nature's pretty neat."

"Yeah, it's incredible....ah...and there they go." You hummed, watching the horde drifting away from the docks, a bit disappointed it was over so soon. "Bye, jellies!"

Once more, the glow of summer fades away, leaving everyone on the pier in darkness. But you knew they'll be back next year when Lewis sends off the candleboat, hopefully with bigger and brighter jellies.

You looked forward to seeing them again with Shane..and every year after that.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 16

Summary: The final confrontation with Hybern comes to a head.

Content Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Character Death (or two, sorry Beron), Suggestiveness ;)

Author's Note: I'm going to be totally honest, I have a terrible time writing endings, they have never been my strong suit, I like to keep things open ended so that they can just go one forever and ever. So, I intend to write a couple more chapters as part of the epilogue, I'm thinking a mating ceremony? Some fluffy goodness to make up for all the angst? Let me know what you guys want to see :) (I've posted a poll here for ideas as well )

Previous Chapter/ Master List

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

Rhys is screaming, roaring, your name.

You should be dead. 

You’re certainly cold, as cold as you had been the first time the Cauldron’s powers had filled you, but this time, this time there is an end to it. This time you can claw your way to the surface and grab some air. This time you do not fight it, do not surrender to it, you grab hold of that icy power and draw it in like a breath. And when your lungs are full, you release that breath with a scream that blows the roof off the Temple.

You’re not dead at all.

Helion lays with his hands over his head at your feet, completely unharmed.

You rub at the spot on your chest where you took the brunt of the blast, the only real discomfort you still feel from the whole ordeal.

Rhys grabs you by the shoulder, shouting your name, terror shooting down the bond. 

“I’m ok,” you assure. “Although, I do kinda have heartburn now.”

Helion raises himself back up as both Azriel and Cassian slam into the ground beside you. 

“Mother’s Tits!” Cassian bellows.

You burp from the pressure in your chest.

“How the fuck?” Azriel says to Rhys.

Your mate is staring at you like he can’t believe any of this is real, and you’re honestly inclined to believe the same. Just a couple months ago you had fully believed you were just some farm girl, and now, here you stand, a full fledged Death Goddess. 

“What was that?” Rhys demands none of them in particular, his face awash with worry.

You roll your shoulders, strangely more confident than before. You can take that, you can take whatever else it’s got. “The Cauldron and I have unfinished business.”

The words are barely out of your mouth before an arrow comes whizzing past your ear. That was why it had been so empty; why cast spells and lay boobytraps when Hybern could simply pull his men back and wait for you all to enter so he could blast you away with the Cauldron?

Both Cassian and Azriel turn to face the Temple, large wings outstretched like shields as they raise their gloved hands. Ruby and cobalt siphons gleam on their hands and a moment later, they channel a blast of energy at them, turning the first wave of Hybern’s archers to ash. 

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say they’re only out to let the Cauldron recharge,” Helion warns.

You rub at your chest again. “I need to get inside.”

“No-” Rhys starts, his hand still gripping your shoulder as he reconsiders the path ahead. His brothers push forward, their fine-tuned energy blasts clearing a path. For the moment, the Cauldron is quiet. It will not stay that way.

“It has to be me,” you say, turning away from the destruction ahead of you to look at him. It’s not fair that either of your lives have turned out like this, that the time you’ve had together has been so full of hardships. If things were different, maybe you would have wandered into the Night Court on your own, bumped into him in the city somewhere and the bond would have clicked. You could have had something simple, gentle, not these dangers and battles and pain between you. 

“Let us be done with this,” there’s really not time for this conversation, but if anything goes wrong, you couldn’t bear any more regret. “So we can go home, together, like we bargained.”

You flex your hand, where the ink no longer resides, before brushing your hand over his cheek. “I love you, Rhys.”

“No good-byes,” he whispers, violet eyes heavy. 

“We’ll have more time,” you promise. “And I am grateful for what we’ve already had.”

“Even if I did make a mess of it?” He teases, though his voice breaks.

You stretch up on your toes and kiss him gently on the lips. “I suppose I can find it in me to forgive you.”

A shiver runs down your spine as you feel the Cauldron powering up again, its voice a siren call in your mind as it beckons you. You pull away from your mate. “Pull them back.”

“Cassian! Azriel!” He barks and the two Illyrians turn ever so slightly to look at him in confusion, their glittering energy shields parting just enough to let a body through. 

You don’t wait for Rhys to give them anymore orders, you sprint through that gap as fast as your legs can carry you. 

“Come. Sweet Death. Come play, Little Goddess.”

It’s Cassian that yells for you to wait. Cassian who would have taken that next hit, those beautiful wings shredded to pieces had you not been standing directly between him and the next blast. The cold consumes you, makes every breath feel like swallowing glass, but still, you keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The next wave of soldiers comes barrelling forward, and you take all that borrowed energy clustered in your chest and hurl it at them. There’s no way to track how many bodies you turn to mist, a splatter of blood across your face their only remains. The blast takes another part of the Temple off, giving you a path right to where the Cauldron still remains mounted atop the altar. Its three legs have been fused to the ancient stone, Hybern shielded behind it, his men in a semi-circle around the sides.

“Playing hero now, daughter?” He snarls.

“Come to me.”

You open your arms wide as you stalk towards him, a green mist from the Cauldron pouring out over the edges. Even as he swirls a hand through the fog, when It speaks, he offers no reaction, even under his control, the words are meant for you alone. In the end, fate has drawn the two of you together. 

“Give me your best shot!” You challenge.

“Closer. Come closer. Let me hold you.”

The next blast is stronger, pushing you backwards as debris from the now crumbling Temple rains down on your head. Outside, the clash of swords and cries of fighting men ring out. So Hybern is not foolish enough to keep all his men in one place, though that is a battle for the High Lords. You turn your attention away from the noise, swallowing the icy fire that bubbles in your chest from the influx of power, and hurl it back at the altar so hard the ancient stones crack. 

For the first time, Hybern falters, stepping back from the Cauldron with a hand over his face to shield himself from the blast. His men had not been so fortunate.

“You cannot withstand this forever,” Hybern warns.

“And these blasts are not without cost, I’d imagine,” you return. “How long can you hide behind your Cauldron?”

He swirls a hand over the fog, offering a soft chant that makes the Cauldron bubble and groan. The floor trembles as the Cauldron shakes and spits out another attack, this time going wide and brushing the side of your face as it blows the roof off the place. 

Your face is not as sturdy as your chest and the assault makes your ears ring, your right eye blurry. Overhead, Cassian’s Illyrian legion swoops and circles, the strange gems atop their hands pulsing like a dozen flashing lights. 

You shake your head to clear your vision as you turn back to your father. “Afraid to face me without your precious weapon?”

He growls, teeth flashing as he grips the lip of the Cauldron with both hands.

“Come play. Come free me.”

His hands twitch from holding the ancient metal, yet he won’t let it go. “You forget how powerless against me you were before, Daughter.”

You get a step closer, the stones shaking beneath your boots. The more blasts you take, the more stiff your body feels, there is only so much abuse you can take. “Before you released me of whatever limits my powers had, you mean?” You sneer. “I’d say we’re evenly matched now.”

“You’re out of your element!” He shouts.

The Cauldron pulses like a heartbeat, the metal screaming now and you have enough time to reach out a hand and catch it in your palm, even as your arms scream in protest. It is a concentrated effort to push that power back out of your palm, even more so to aim it back at his head. 

There isn’t time for him to shield, forcing him to take a step back away from the Cauldron, finally removing his hands from the lip. You waste no time in rushing forward and getting your own hand around the ancient metal. Instantly, it freezes you in place, the icy depths of whatever magic swirls within latches on like a thousand tiny hooks, fusing itself to you. It takes of you as you take of it, the exchange even and ceaseless.

You poke at the bridge between your mind and Rhys. “NOW!”

A blast of your father’s power slams into the back of your hand as he screams, trying to tear you away, but even though your skin breaks, blood spraying, you couldn’t let go if you wanted to. This is exactly where the Cauldron wants you and it’s exactly where you will stay until it’s done. 

“Yes! Finally! Play with me,” it purrs as Rhys and Helion burst into the room. Light and dark swirl around them like whirlwinds, blowing the walls away until the only thing left standing in the entirety of the Temple is the altar.

“Show me what you want,” you tell it as you try drawing it’s icy power into yourself. There is no end to it; no beginning either. It is you and you are it and the more you take into yourself, the more of you it steals. The mist it emanates slithers around your wrists and up your arms as your own darkness dips within it’s center and disappears. 

“We are made to destroy,” it sings. 

A scream tears out of you as it pushes more of itself into you, the wave of energy that escapes out your mouth shooting up into the sky, nearly taking out some of the Illyrians still swooping overhead. 

A shadow of Rhys’s power slithers into your mind, wrapping around you in a warm embrace. “You can do this. Fight it!”

“Show me what you want,” you insist as Hybern turns his attention away from you to face the High Lords running towards him. They are both powerful swordsmen, but the movements are stiff from years of disuse, their steps faltering as he pushes them back away from you with his own sword.

“He seeks to destroy,” the Cauldron purrs as if the thought makes it happy.

“Not him,” you say through your now chattering teeth. “You. What do you want?”

Rhys roars in pain behind you as Hybern clips his shoulder and Helion rushes to his aid, large broadsword angling for your father’s throat. Hybern catches Helion at the wrist and twists, snapping the Lord’s shoulder in one swift motion.

The Cauldron hums as if thinking. “Destruction is our way…”

“No,” you snarl. “You were once the instrument of life in Prythian! Destruction is not your only way, it is not my only way. If I can do more than kill, if I am more than a monster…” A monster would not have beaten Amarantha, would not have saved your mate, would not have fallen in love. Monsters do not feel, do not love. You brush a mental hand over the bond and draw another steadying breath, even as the cold seeps into your bones; makes your whole body shake. “We do not have to be weapons.”

From the treeline surrounding the ruins of the Temple, more and more of Hybern’s soldiers make it past the aerial units filtering above, clashing with the combined powers of the High Lords. Beron keeps them temporarily at bay with a wall of fire, but you can see the flames wavering, his weathered face pale and slick with sweat. Kallias and Tarquin remain back to back, using their powers to hurl projectiles over the wall of flame, holding steady, even as the sound of the labored breathing floats your way on the wind. They are holding, but it will not last forever. You need to even the playing field. 

“Please. Help me stop him,” you beg. “I will give you whatever you want.”

“I like this new game,” the Cauldron purrs.

The flow of power between you and it has not faltered, you keep pulling more and more of it in as it continues to take it back. Your knees give out beneath you, hands still fused to the lip as a cold sweat beads off your forehead. 

“Please,” you rasp. “Tell me what you want!”

Beron goes down with an arrow in the chest, his limp body collapsing into the earth so hard you feel the tremble of the impact. The Cauldron chuckles beneath your palms, still delighting in the destruction. 

“Helion!” Rhys roars as Hybern drives his sword across the Lord of Day’s stomach, his own blade swinging at Hybern’s neck.

You give the Cauldron a shake, “Come on! This can’t be what you want!” 

Rhys takes an elbow to the nose, blood spattering as Hybern outmaneuvers him, and barely manages to throw himself out of the way of the following strike, the blade leaving a gash in his fighting leathers. From overhead, Cassian spies the fight and angles himself away from his troops to come help, but it feels as if he’s moving in slow motion. Somehow, whether it’s the Cauldron’s power or the bond, you know something is about to be very, very wrong.

You grit your teeth, claws digging into the metal of the Cauldron and pull, skin peeling away as you get a hand off the lip to blast as much power as you can in Hybern’s direction. If the Cauldron will not help you, you will do this yourself. Nothing is going to take your mate from you ever again.

Cassian banks hard to avoid the blast, his cursing just audible over Hybern’s screaming. You’d known, just by the feel of it within your chest that this kind of power would be lethal, but watching as it burns through flesh and muscle, leaving nothing but exposed, stark white bone is enough to make your stomach rise into your throat. 

Hybern’s sword turns to ash in his skeletal hand, still raised above Rhys’s head in what would have been a killing blow. It’s nothing but bone all the way down to his shoulder, chunks of his armor blasted away, bits of blistered skin visible from where the blast had gone a little wide. A little to the left and you would have taken him and Rhys out. 

Your father gapes at you, more nightmare now than male.

“This is more fun than a bargain,” the Cauldron purrs. Perhaps it has been corrupted beyond repair, perhaps it can only be good when wielded by the right creature. Perhaps only the Mother had managed to tame the magic within and had left it an empty shell of what could have been.

You stop trying to take anything from it, and when you do, it lets your other hand free without injury. You slump against the altar as Rhys drives his sword through Hybern’s throat. Blood gurgles from his lips, eyes vacant and staring at the Cauldron as if in one final plea for help, before he falls face down in the grass.

The chaos that ensues in the next couple minutes feels like a fever dream as the Night Court’s forces drive the rest of Hybern’s away. Tarquin rushes to Helion, hands glowing in a strange light as the Spell-Cleaver instructs him on how to use his water magic to heal the gaping wound in his stomach. There is no saving Beron, Thesan confirms from where the dead man lies. 

Rhys rushes to your side, where you remain slumped against the Cauldron, eyes blurry as the world spins around you. He cups your face, gently tapping at your cheeks. “Hey, hey, stay with me! You’re ok. You did it!”

You lean your face into his touch, “Don’t suppose you know how to get rid of this thing, huh?”

The Cauldron hisses in response. 

He laughs, half-delirious with relief as he kisses your nose, your cheeks, your forehead. “We won! It’s over.”

It’s over.

You touch your forehead to his, body heavy, but laughing now yourself. “We did it!”

Azriel and Cassian come running as soon as it’s clear to do so, wings tucked tight behind them. “Everybody ok?”

Rhys kisses you, his lips still bloody, but you don’t have it in you to care as you return it. It is finally over; you are more than ok.

------

You watch the sunset across a glittering horizon, the warm rays bouncing off the rolling waves lapping at your ankles. The sand is warm beneath your feet, a supernatural ward keeping the water cool instead of frozen like it should be this time of year. 

Footsteps sound behind you, the only warning you get before strong arms wrap around your waist. Your mate’s breath warm against your skin as he kisses your neck. “Enjoying the view?”

Any sight with sunlight is a luxury, you savor every wisp of wind, every ray of sunshine against your still pale skin. It will be awhile before either of you get any color back.

“More so now that you’re here,” you say with a grin as he places another kiss on your cheek. 

He’d wanted to go straight back to the Night Court, but the matter of the Cauldron still remained. Eventually the High Lords, and the newly crowned Eris, had decided it needed to be returned to its resting place with the nephilim Miriam and her husband Drakon, who had suffered heavy losses when Hybern had marched through and stolen it. Under Helion’s instructions, the Cauldron’s legs had once again been cleaved and separated, and in doing so, the ancient artifact had finally, blissfully, gone silent. Rhys, long standing friends with Miriam and Drakon, had offered to take this piece back before returning home. It seemed only fitting that you followed to ensure no one else attempted to wield it.

“This doesn’t feel real,” you say after a moment of silence, only the crashing of the waves between the two of you.

Rhys settles against your back, body sturdy and warm. His pulse against you should be enough to convince you that this isn’t a dream, but you’re still waiting for something else to jump out from behind the rocks dotting the landscape and surprise you. Any minute now the dream will crumble and once again, stone walls will cover every inch of your surroundings.

“We’re out,” Rhys promises.

You wait, expecting to hear heels clicking against stone or a buzzing of a collar against your throat. It’s a miracle you can stand in the water at all without feeling your throat close up. 

You lace your fingers with his, holding them tight where he rests them against your stomach. “We’re out,” you whisper.

Cassian and Azriel had come along, their boots heavy against the fine sand as they approach. 

“We leaving or what?” Cassian asks.

Azriel punches him hard in the shoulder. “I thought I told you to give them a minute!”

“They’ve had plenty of minutes, any longer they’re gonna start making out, and I, for one, would like to be somewhere far away before that happens.” Cassian returns.

“It’s like dealing with toddlers,” Rhys whispers in your ear.

You release his hand so you can turn in his arms, palms flat against his chest. Most of the damage inflicted during the fight is healed, though there is still some bruising around his eyes from his broken nose. It’s unfair that he’s still the most beautiful male you’ve ever seen, even with the bruising. 

“You know you’ve missed their antics.”

He grins, violet eyes glittering like a thousand stars and you promise yourself you’ll do anything to keep that look on his face. There has been enough pain and grief to last the rest of your lives.

“That I have,” he admits.

“Then we should probably get the little Illyrian baby back before he gets hungry,” you retort.

“Hey!” Cassian scoffs.

Rhys hums his approval as he places a gentle kiss on your lips. “I do have some bargains to fulfill, after all.”

You glance down at your bandage covered hands as if you can see the lack of ink there, the destroyed bond still tender, even now. 

He draws his hand up to give yours a squeeze, before bringing it to his lips. “Broken or not, I intend to keep it.”

“We could make some new ones I’m sure,” you muse.

“Can we please leave?” Cassian whines. 

Rhys ignores him, eyes glinting in challenge. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, I seem to recall a few suggestions you had…”

His lips are on yours again, hungry and wanting and the tether between you burns hot. “I’ll make as many bargains as you’d like, Darling.”

“Home first,” you force yourself to pull away and say, because if you keep letting him kiss you like that, neither of you will be leaving the beach. 

He grins, shoulders rolling back, and from behind him a set of massive, bat-like wings appear. You gape, even as your head spins with the recollection that you had once thought there was something missing between the gaps of the tattoos on his back. The leathery membrane stretches out behind him like one would stretch their arms, fluttering slightly in the evening breeze. 

You reach out a hand to give them a inquisitory touch and he swings them out of reach. “Not here,” he purrs in your ear.

Before you can ask why, he sweeps you up into his arms and launches into the sky. You toss your arms around his neck and squeeze your eyes shut as your stomach lurches into your throat.

“It’s more enjoyable if your eyes are open, Darling,” he laughs, wings beating hard to catch the right draft that will take you to the Night Court.

“I like to keep my stomach where it belongs, but thanks,” you mutter, burying your face in his neck to hide from the wind. 

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights?” He teases.

“Heights? No. Falling? Yes,” you return.

“You know I’d never drop you,” he says in all seriousness.

You let out a huff of annoyance, because damn him, his right and you know it. After everything, there is still no safer place to be than in your mate’s arms. You open one eye, then the other, and take a shaky breath before finally turning your head to the side to see the vast expanse of open sky around you. 

The sun has slowly set, the sky awash in purples and blues as the first bit of stars appear in the sky. Rhys tilts and dips around the fluffiest clouds you’ve ever seen in your life, but you can’t help yourself from removing your arm from around his shoulders to try and touch one. They’re a lot more wet than you anticipated them being. 

“I never thought I’d see this again,” Rhys whispers.

You kiss his cheek, flooding the bond with as much warmth as you can. It’ll be easier, once you’ve fully accepted it, and you plan to, once things are a little more settled. It would be a lot for him to return home to, you want to give him some time to just be home before tackling a new heightened sense of emotions and all that comes with being mated, but you already have a few ideas on how you want to go about it. For now, you’ll keep this thing between you simple and not overwhelming. 

“Thank you, for getting us out,” he says.

“I didn’t do that much,” you reply. “We did it together.”

“It was all you,” he returns. “I think that collar messed up your memories a little.”

“My memories are fine,” you retort with an eye roll, even though he can’t see it. “We did it together, as we planned to. As we’ll do with whatever comes next.”

He grins as he follows a draft downwards, three mountain peaks coming into view. Somehow, you can feel in your chest when you cross the border, as if you very bones know that this is where you’re meant to be. He glides lower, letting you view the snow flecked landscape beneath you, grinning as he takes in the way you devour his court with your eyes. “Welcome to the Night Court.”

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