#i am obviously not going to write all of these

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

The final part for The House of Glass! Everyone has a lot to figure out, but progress takes time. Follows from this. This was my first ever complete comic from start to finish, I hope you guys enjoyed the journey!

If you've enjoyed this comic, please consider donating to Aya Yasser, a 19 year old university student from the University of Palestine. She had to pause her studies due to attacks on Gaza. Her 55 year old father is ill and she is trying to evacuate him and her brothers.

You can find her blog @samaagaza

It's like two in the morning right now so I might be a bit incoherent, cw for discussions of racism, homophobia, biphobia, sinophobia and classism

I've really wanted to write Chang as someone who's made to be a perpetual outsider. As a Chinese person born in the UK I've always been made to feel like a foreigner no matter where I go - obviously I am a foreigner abroad but I'm also treated as such in the very country I was born and raised in. I think a lot of east Asian people can relate to being treated as a strange exotic foreigner first and a person second.

As a working class orphan he would probably have been treated as disposable by society at large too. As soon as he's rescued by Tintin in the Blue Lotus he immediately asks why Tintin bothered saving him, and in his letter to Tintin in Tintin in Tibet he writes that he's unworthy of his uncle's hopsitality. We don't get much from Chang as he doesn't make many appearances but it seems he's internalised strong feelings of a lack of self worth. Tintin may have been the first person to recognise his humanity since Chang's birth family passed.

Being queer is also very isolating at first. You're not born into a culture you can reference or make sense of your experiences initially, it's something you have to seek out. I wanted to explore learning to love yourself through others. We're all weird to some degree, we're all in this together!

I genuinely have no clue how I'd follow this up, I have ideas for future stories but I'm not sure what would follow directly from here!

[anyydidi]

WRITING THIS POST BECAUSE I'M SO SICK OF PEOPLE MISCHARACTERIZING FORD!!!!!!!!!

Before we begin, everyone is entitled to their opinion. If you really think Ford wouldn't truly care, you do you.

That being said, I feel like people who claim that Ford wouldn't do a single thing to bring Stan back if their places were switched do not understand his character at all.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think that he would open the portal. At least not right away. The one thing I agree with is that Ford wouldn't put the life of his brother above the whole planet like Stan did. He realizes the threat of the portal and Bill too much to do that.

But have people forgotten that Ford also loves his brother? Yeah, he was angry, bitter and resentful, but he wouldn't have just let Stan die in the multiverse. Especially since that would be entirely his fault he got stuck there in the first place.

For people thinking, "But Ford was too blinded by rage! He didn't care for Stan until after Weirdmaggedon!", have you seen the show? Have you read the journal? Through everything that happened, Ford kept a photo (tattered and worn, obviously taken out a lot) of him and his brother in his left, inner breast pocket which is the one closest to the heart. If that wasn't enough, for those who haven't read the journal, Ford kept reminiscing about and mentioning his brother before the portal incident. Even though those lines were often crossed out, it was obvious that at least unconsiously he had Stan in mind a lot. And at the end of the journal, it is written that he worked day and night, to the point of passing out, to bring Stan's memories (and essencially Stan himself) back. (Oh and have we forgotten about the absolutely shattered expression he had when he erased Stan's memories? You don't look like that for a person you don't deeply care about).

Still not enough to believe that Ford cared about Stan before Stan's sacrifice?

Let's talk about the fact that when Ford was at his lowest, that being paranoid, sleep deprived, tortured by Bill, drowned in guilt, and completely alone, he reached out to Stan? He says it himself, "I needed help, someone I could trust." After everything, he still trusted Stan to an extent and believed him to be his last hope. You don't give trust like that to people you truly hate.

Ford was self-absorbed and egocentric, but also hurt and betrayed. That feeling came from a misconception, but that doesn't make it any less valid. It is understandable that he acted towards Stan the way he did, with venom and bitterness. But we can be angry at people we love and still care for their well-being.

How I said earlier, I don't think Ford would really open the portal. He wouldn't risk the entire world for Stanley. But I do think he would do anything in his power to be able to bring Stan back safely. You cannot be telling me that he'd be able to live with the guilt and not do anything about it if he could. After all, in his head, it would be his fault. He got tricked by Bill, he built the portal, he made Stan come to him and showed him the portal and he wasn't able to let go of the journal and fought Stan for it. I'm convinced he'd still throw some blame at Stan for some of the fight to make himself feel better at first, but after some time he would just blame himself completely (the same way I think Stan did with the science fair incident). The guilt for all of that would eat him alive.

Let's not forget, Stanley worked for 30 years, basically half his life to bring Stanford home and I believe Ford would be willing to do the same. He would just go about it differently. He would either try to get rid of the threat of Bill and then be willing to upgrade the portal and turn it on again, or maybe try to find a completely different way to get Stan back from the multiverse, or in the end something entirely different, I'm not fully sure.

What I am sure of is that Ford wouldn't just let Stan be stranded in the multiverse without doing absolutely nothing. Maybe he wouldn't succeed, maybe Stan would actually have to find his own way back home because Stanford wouldn't be able to find a solution without risking their entire universe. But Ford would at least try, give it his all, because despite everything, he still loves his brother. Differently than Stan loves him, because Ford is a different person than Stan, but he still does.

So I beg you, people. Stop taking Ford's complex character from him. He can be a selfish, self-centered asshole, but he's not heartless.

[magpod-confessions]

i am getting so tired of the Jon-asexuality discourse like just LET PEOPLE LIVE

LET PEOPLE DO WHAT THEY WANT

I’m ace, i get off, i make sex jokes, I don’t want to have sec with an actual human being, but I’ll read slash fics, I get horny for fictional men, I joke that I want to fuck them, I don’t, but I might be a smutfic of these characters when I feel like it, none of this makes me any less asexual.

saying all ace people are virgins and have never and will never have sex and have no libido and are “uwu liddle babees” who are oblivious is just factually incorrect.

some ace people don’t have sex.

some do.

Jon’s asexuality is left vague for a REASON.

we hear about through gossip, from someone who 1) hates Jon 2) heard it from his EX. That’s not the most reliable source. I hate to break it to you, but it’s not. It’s second hand information that is, AGAIN, left vague. So that the viewer may interpret it however they like.

someone interpreting Jon as sex-favorable is fine. It’s a headcanon. We don’t ACTUALLY know bc there’s no sex scene or lack of sex scene. Because it doesn’t matter whether or not he has sex! It adds nothing to the overall story, but if you want to write smut with Jon, that’s fine!

Stop getting so uncomfortable, it’s a fictional character and these fics are hurting no one. Stop “calling people out” just because they’re writing something you don’t like. It’s like saying someone who writes detective novels is a cop or condones murder.

and most of the fics I’ve seen are by ace people who are projecting their own sexuality onto Jon, maybe even figuring out their asexuality through him. I realized a lot of my asexuality by reading some of these fics!

hell, even if you don’t like Jon having sex or feeling attraction to people, there’s fics where he ISNT attracted but will still have sex bc guess what! Even allo people have sex with people they aren’t attracted to! Bc they want to! Bc some people like having sex with others!

no ond is trying to erase Jon’s asexuality. You’re just mad because not everyone has the same headcanon as you. And guess what? You can block tags, block creators, you can block people on ao3, you can filter out smut on ao3, all of this is easily avoidable if you just curate your own expirience.

people are gonna write smut of any and every ace character. It’s not inherently acephobic to do so. Especially not when someone who is acespec is just projecting onto a fictional character who’s sexuality was left vague for that reason.

if you disagree, fine. You can always just look the other way.

🗣️

God. Agree these are my exact opinions on it LMAO. Idgaf how someone portrays jons asexuality and frankly the whole 'HES ACE HE HASNT HEARD OF SEX EVER' is just. Uncomfortable and aphobic to me as an ace person LMAO - rosette

YEAH . agreed ! as an ace person as well it isss . a spectrum guys . somebody making the canon ace character have sex isn't going to kill you . i can obviously understand if you're uncomfortable with it due to being ace yourself but non-ace people shouldn't be trying to dictate how other people headcanon a characters asexuality to be . - deceit

[angeliconstell]

⠀𝅄⠀ㅤׂ Ghost Papa Headcanons (Dating)!

A/N: Doing something a bit different than my usual. The month of October is all spooky month so I'll be doing maybe a "Kinktober" thing for different slashers/horror icons. Before then, I want to test some stuff in my other fandoms. I am a massive Ghost fan, have been for five years now. My favorite album is Meliora ;). Anyways, I decided to dust off my writing skills for literally the thing I have a whole corner of merch dedicated to! If this goes good, I'll do more Ghost stuff!

Themes: Fluff/NSFW/Some dark topics

Dividers credits!: @/gothdaddyissues

⛧ 𓂃 Primo!:

SFW:

⸸ I do believe Primo can be a sweetheart to his partners. His partner is his number one priority, even above the Ministry. He'd do anything to make sure that his beloved is safe and happy.

⸸ Late night cuddle sessions. He's an old fella, don't expect him to be jumping your bones every night. Some nights are just cuddling in bed together, basking in each other's warmth as Primo would read.

⸸ Acts of service. From making sure you have food, running you hot baths together, or a nice date night where he gets wine and helps clean with you as you two listen to music. Primo loves doing things for you.

⸸ His favorite places to kiss is probably your forehead and your cheek. Primo would often just tilt your head up with a finger to be able to grab a quick smooch from his beloved.

NSFW:

⸸ Since Primo is of course older, don't expect him to always want to have sex when you want or for him to have much stamina. Most nights, you'd need to run a hot bath for him to help with his aches. Aftercare is as important to him as it is for you.

⸸ Riding. Primo likes it when you ride him, being able to cup your chest and watched you ride yourself stupid on his cock. It gets him harder to be able to see you cum around him, your slick covering his lower stomach. Sometimes it even makes him just a tad bit harder.

⸸ Primo definitely knows what the hell he is doing. He knows all of the gooey spots in you to make you melt into his hands like a puddle of nerves. He's amazing with his fingers, always making sure you're wet and stretched enough to take him. Primo would rub so tenderly against those sweet spots that it would have you screaming like a whore for everyone in the Ministry to hear.

⸸ Praising you is a big favorite, letting his little love know how good they are. He makes sure to get right up in your ear with it too, to make sure you hear all of those filthy praises he has to say. He loves the way you would clench around his cock with each sweet word.

⛧ 𓂃 Secondo!:

SFW:

⸸ To start off with, Secondo is obviously a lover that makes sure his partner is completely satisfied no matter what. If you don't like an outfit you have to wear, he'll sit with you and help you pick an outfit. He'll make sure to make it known that you're absolutely stunning no matter what you wear.

⸸ Secondo would show you off. Dragging you in stage, making sure you're in photos with him, bragging about you. You're his treasure, his muse. He'll make sure it is known that you belong to him and that he belongs to you.

⸸ This one might be a little, just a tad bit controversial. I think Secondo might be a little like Nihil with Imperator. He would cheat, maybe once, then feel absolutely horrible about it when he realized how horribly it ruined you. It takes awhile to trust him again, but he will try in every way to make it up to you, going as far to make sure you're comfortable and calling when he's on tours.

⸸ A silly one to make up for the last one 😭. Secondo would have little to no discomfort with you. He gets a little to comfortable sometimes. Secondo would parade around his quarters ass naked as he got ready for Rituals.

NSFW:

⸸ I'm going to be honest, he's a a freak, absolutely down bad. The first thing he does after Rituals to calm down is bury his head between your legs and eat you out with his face paints still on. The bigger the mess, the harder he gets. He would grind against the bed until he cums during this. By the end of it, half of his makeup is on your thighs.

⸸ Secondo also likes using his hands, literally anything to please you. As I said in the SFW stuff, he will make sure you're completely satisfied. For the fem readers, two of his fingers would be knuckle deep in your slick and his pinky in your ass. Male readers, one hand would be making sure to be pumping the cum out of your cock and two fingers snug in your ass. He has to be touching, having his fingers in you.

⸸ Secondo loves anal. From using his tongue, fingers, cock, he loves your ass. That being said, doggy and reverse cowgirl is his favorite position. It drives Secondo near feral to be able to see the bounce of your ass when he fucks you. By the end of it all, your ass would be bright red and bruised.

⸸ Don't test him. Secondo is definitely a dominant man and he'll use pain to his advantage. If you brat a little too close to the sun, you'll be bent over his knee in know time with his leather gloved hand smacking roughly against your ass. He of course makes sure you're okay, making sure you're using a safe word for if it hurts too much.

⛧ 𓂃 Terzo!:

SFW:

⸸ Opposed to what many people think of Terzo, him being a horny, sassy man, I think Terzo is more of a recluse. His on stage persona is completely different compared to how he is with you. Terzo would rather spend evenings with you, drinking wine and watching Real Housewives.

⸸ Terzo has more of a taste for fashion than his brothers. He loves to match with you, hell, he even had matching outfits made for you two just because. He always is honest and trying his best to look good for you, making sure you stay up to date with trends.

⸸ Taking care of Terzo in return makes his heart melt. Even though Terzo has a huge stage presence, he usually gets increasingly anxious the closer Rituals get. It usually eats at him that he'll never be good enough, not good enough for Nihil. You have to remind him that he's a man carrying the whole Ministry on his shoulders and he's not alone. So to calm him down before shows, sitting and helping him do his makeup is usually the cure for his anxiety.

NSFW:

⸸ Terzo loves to mark you up. He can tend to get a bit possessive over you, so leaving bites in a place that's visible is one of his favorites. Terzo would bite your chest, between your thighs, about anywhere. Not hard of course, unless you ask for it.

⸸ Eating you out is a big yes. Terzo would get off by just lapping at you, sucking at your slick and spreading it more with his tongue. He'd rather be between your thighs, having them over his shoulders as he's buried nose deep against you.

⸸ A weird one, despite Terzo liking to have a clean appearance, making sure he smells nice and looks groomed. Your natural scents get him off. Your scent is enough to immediately get him rock hard, precum dripping onto the bed.

⸸ Terzo has a higher libido. Have fun dealing with that. Sometimes he would ache so god damn bad for you that sometimes he'd pull you into the nearest empty room just to fuck you. He would bend you over a desk, holding you by your waist to make sure you don't move too much as he would thrust into you.

⛧ 𓂃 Copia!:

SFW:

⸸ Copia is a big baby. That's all. If he gets hurt, it's straight to you. If you stray too far, Copia gets anxious. He likes having you, it's a safe blanket for himself. Being near you is just enough to make him so, so happy.

⸸ Copia's love language is definitely touch. Touching you always is a big yes. He'll always have a hand around you hip, on your thigh, holding your hands, anywhere on you. Sometimes if he's not sure if touching you intimately is appropriate, he'll just rest a hand on your shoulder or head.

⸸ Date nights are a must. Copia is more of an inside guy for sure. His nights are spent in sweatpants and on a couch playing video games with you. You sometimes have to go easy with him in video games because if he continually loses, he gets grumpy.

⸸ Copia's pet rats are his babies and as long you're with him, they're your babies too. Do not call them "ugly" or "filthy", most relationships are a deal breaker if you call his rats anything besides babies.

NSFW:

⸸ Another, maybe, slightly controversial one (not really.) I think Copia is a smoker, mostly because of Chapter 12 on YouTube (https://youtu.be/NJx--9-mQis?si=LyJ0tstNC6U9UekQ). Copia sometimes would smoke during sex, especially if you're just being a cock warmer for him. The warmth of the cigarette would near your face as Copia would mumbled sweet nothings as you sit pretty on his cock, letting it fill you to the brim.

⸸ Copia is self conscious of his body. He has a nice dad bod going on for him. He would sometimes only would have sex with you with clothes halfway on due to his insecurities. Copia's cock is a nice chub, on the shorter end, but thick and slightly curved. It just manages to hit you in all the right spots and sometimes your moans brings him a big ego boost that he's enough. Another silly thing, he's definitely has accidentally left his socks on during sex before.

⸸ Cumming on your face is probably one of the prettiest things to him, next to you of course. Copia does enjoy the warmth of milking his cum into you, but being able to cum on your face, chest, tummy, ass, or thighs is close to first for him. Copia would pull out despite your protests, pumping his cock in front of your face while you sit with your tongue out like an eager pup until he releases on you.

⸸ Copia is a switch, depending on how he feels that day is depending on how he is in bed. If dominant, expect gentle sex with loads of praises and soft kisses. Missionary or mating press is probably his favorite positions, to be able to kiss you or see your face as his cock grazes up against all of your favorite places. If submissive, expect tons of whinpering. Copia is a beggar, he would hold your love handles in a death grip, begging you to keep riding him (or fucking him) until he cums. He isn't usually a brat, Copia loves to be a good boy.

[littlest-bugz]

The Collective You

[one system's brief advice about accepting the idea of the collective you]

One of the best pieces of system advice started from a tumblr post and was elaborated by my DID specialist. I can't find the original tumblr post that started it, so I'm making a little post of my own <3 Share the knowledge. and also hope that someone can link the original post lol.

When I was REALLY going through it™ with my first diagnosis w/ DID, and a lack of integration, all of my alters felt like separate individuals, some of us feeling as distanced as a coworker or a stranger altogether. We were just getting a grasp on internal communication between all of our subsystems, and it was rough. We felt so entirely differentiated that we were our own people trapped in one body. While I don't really care about what language you use, all alters in CDDs are a part of one person [there's only one body and brain]- the collective you.

So obvs, I'm scrolling tumblr like the chronically online doomscroller that I am, and I see this post that goes along the line of not knowing who you are, but knowing you are 'you', regardless of who you are [referring to alters]. And it said something like "we're all me enough to pick up our meds"- something like that. iirc it was a half light hearted, half advice post, but that was really good advice for me. I kind of internalized it after I processed it in therapy. It's actually why I have started to love parts language lately tbh.

After further processing this idea in therapy, Identity Confusion stopped mattering in the grand scheme of things. I focused less on worrying about who I was, and just focused on the fact that I'm me. Just like the post I saw- We are all me. The example of all being me enough to pick up my medications just applied, like, everywhere. Even when it came down to the smallest things- with coping with other symptoms too.

Oh? I don't like coffee right now? I guess I should switch to something else. [differentiated alters]

Oh? I have barely any drawing skills right now? Okay, really sucks but I can work on something else and come back to it later. [skill variance between alters]

Oh? I have to go to a doctor's appointment? I know I'll forget that- Gotta write a list, and put it up on the board so I remember. [day to day amnesia]

You know what happened? My dissociation got better! Not immediately or entirely, obviously, and my memory [re amnesia] still sucks, but that's part of the disorder- plus other disorders that I have. This idea of the collective you is something that I think is really beneficial to all CDD systems, especially during the mid to later stages of recovery.

I, admittedly, credit most of my healing to conversations I have had with my DID specialist. Especially since, without her, I wouldn't have been able to process this idea of the collective me further, but the conversation wouldn't have been started if I hadn't seen that post on tumblr. This was a budding concept with us due to the separation we had. It helped with integration. GRANTED... Not every alter got the memo, obviously, but It's something that I'm still working on. Of course, being me comes with the prerequisite that I am a person with DID, and that I am made up of multiple parts.

Now for the piece of advice I got from my therapist- Though it requires a certain level of knowledge of your own system, such as a list of alters and some identifying info [fav drinks, fav colors, those type of things]. Look at the list of your alters wherever it may be. Just whatever you use for logging your system members. Look for the commonalities between alters. There will be at least some commonalities.

For example; A good 45% of us like bunnies, 45% like cats, and 10% have a liking for other kinds of animals. Using this information, I can pretty much deduce that 1. the collective me loves animals and 2. the collective me likes cats and bunnies especially.

Another example; I looked through our simplyplural, which has a favorite color thing [in ours at least]. By looking through the list, I figured out 1. wow I like literally all colors- my fav color is rainbows and 2. I especially like pink and light blue.

More examples; the list.. THE LIST... I looked through it and saw that a good 90% of us like MONSTER ENERGY DRINKS- of varying flavors, but the common denominator was Ultra Strawberry Dreams, but all of us like [or tolerate] water as a preferred drink. From there I can come to the conclusion that I prefer water over anything else and that I have a problem with monster [being light hearted but I genuinely do].

I hope you get the idea I'm going for. I used this process for nearly every aspect of our collective identity, though some had to genuinely be voted on, such as our LGBTQIA+ labels [offline, we just call ourself queer, but that's.. aside the point LMAO].

Obviously, there are going to be outliers- Having DID comes with the fun [/s] aspect of alters being differentiated from each other in some capacity. Example for the monster energy one- We have a handful of alters that HATE energy drinks- even just fizzy drinks in general. There's one guy who will only drink Black Coffee and water- nothing else. He's the guy who is always hiding away our monsters in the way back of the fridge, but guess what!! He's me!! The part of me that doesn't want me to ruin my health over energy drinks. The part of me that knows I deserve better than my unhealthy habits.

Getting to know the collective you is just like learning about your system! It is not inherently different than figuring out what an alters dislikes or likes are. The idea of The Collective You shouldn't feel scary or anxiety inducing- if it is, you may want to confront those feelings with a therapist if you have access to one. Every CDD system is the collective [or, well, system] of one fragmented individual- That is a studied and objective fact. I wanted to give advice from one recovering system to another.

No, this will not work for everyone, every system is different, but I'm hoping this post finds the right audience in knowing that it's worth a shot to try this!

[neptunesgrl]

Things that my redacted favs do that are true because I said so

SWEETHEART, LASKO, GUY

SWEETHEART:

- Calls Milo angel in private, had a couple drinks and it ended up slipping out in front of the pack. David looked very confused for the rest of the night and proceeded to call SH in the middle of the night to say “what do you know”, “what did they (Angel) tell you”, etc. Angel found it incredibly amusing.

- Drinks scotch. Rarely, since it makes Milo uncomfortable. They had it in their apartment once and after they’d learned of his father’s struggle with it, they made sure to keep it out of sight when he came over. Hasn’t bought a bottle since they moved in.

- Reverse pick-pockets everyone. Hates when people make a big deal out of apologies or big emotional things. Their way to avoid it is to make silent apologies. Often but not limited to leaving a couple hundreds in their wallet, cause we all know SH makes bank.

- Nicknames for Milo include: Mi, angel (as previously mentioned), hun/honey, babe.

- Takes the NYT crossword incredibly seriously and looks forward to it more than they’d like to admit

- Raised in New England. Hopes to move back if they decide to have kids, that is until they gain their powers, and need to move back to Dahlia.

Side note: Their child listening to ‘California’ by Chappell Roan on full blast in their room and giving SH war flashbacks

- Has gained a slight NJ/NY accent from Milo. Slips out when they get mad. Specifically with the words: ‘jackass’, ‘told her (so i told ha)’, ‘off (awf)’, ‘call (just cawl me)’, etc.

LASKO:

- Constantly holding Dear’s hand. At first, it was difficult for him to initiate, but once he realized it was the least embarrassing thing he could ask for, it became habit. Sometimes Dear slides their thumb to his wrist to check his pulse when he’s nervous.

- (UNEMPOWERED AU) Dear is an EMT. Sirens used to startle and disturb Lasko, now he finds comfort in knowing Dear is getting to save people (corny and tooth rotting fluff ik)

- Once, Lasko wore Dear’s fleece that went with their uniform since they’d left it at his place and it was too cold to go out without one. It took him 10 minutes of pacing at the front door to go outside and grab the food he ordered. Just in case someone on the 2 second walk down there would need medical attention and thought he could help since he’d be wearing the EMT jacket.

- He owns every single PJO book and shamelessly reads them at least once a year. He’s in the Zeus cabin (obviously). Grover’s his favorite, because in his words, “he’s the only one worried about the logistics.”

- ‘Guilty as Sin?’ is THEIR SONG. I will not be taking any criticisms at this time or ever. It’s just the lyrics about feeling guilty for thinking about the other in that way. Like are you kidding me. ‘I’ve screamed his name, building up like waves’ DEAR WE KNOW ITS YOU IN THE WRITERS ROOM.

GUY:

(these are mostly fem leaning i am so sorry)

- Watched The Real Housewives. Insists Jersey is peak, Honey agrees. They take the finales very seriously. Honeys favorite is Margaret, Guys favorite is Melissa. He insists Honey and him are exactly like Joe and Melissa. I have RHONJ brainrot save me.

- Uses a sleep eye mask from dollar tree that says ‘nap queen’ on it. Found it in Honeys childhood bedroom.

- Raised in NYC (Brooklyn), insists he knows how to use the subway and always gets lost. Honey cracked the code within 2 days.

- Had headgear in high school. No further explanation. That’s it. That’s the HC.

- Child of…

🥁

🥁

🥁

dddiiivvvooorrrccceee!!!! i’m projecting He is so Chandler Bing coded don’t lie.

- Somewhere down the line, he’d like to write a book about him and Honey. Whether they work out or not. Very “You were a wonderful experience” / “You were…everything.” coded. Can you tell that not only am i awful at it, but I hate angst?

- Love letters EVERYWHERE. On dressers, in nightstand drawers, on the windshield of Honeys car, this man will find anywhere to put one of the many notes he has written gushing about his partner.

☕️📰🤍

This has been in my drafts for so long I feel emotional posting it. Please take good care of my baby.

[frankenkyle19]

I’ve Always Been Right Here

this is a little fic I wrote about Peter and Erik actually discussing everything because the movies suck and never let us see them have any sort of father/son relationship :(. I’ve been obsessed with dadneto lately so like obviously I had to write this. And sad Peter :( but it’s okay because it’s a happy ending! This takes place after Apocalypse where Erik ended up staying or whatever idk :/ the x-men timeline scares me and I try not to think too much about it. Enjoy!

word count: 1.7k words

Charles had been pushing both parties involved to talk about it. Little encouragements here and there because unbeknownst to Peter, Erik did know that he was his child. Had found out a while ago from Charles himself and decided not to say anything. He had good reasoning but was sure Peter wouldn’t see reason in anything once he found out he knew and hadn’t come to talk to him about it. The poor kid was just as stubborn as he was. 

Charles kept pushing the two of them together. Probably thought he was being helpful but really he was not. The atmosphere between them was always tense, the both of them walking on eggshells around the other, careful with what they said. It was awful for both of them. All the other X-men noticed it too. 

Finally one night after dinner at the mansion Peter had had enough. Him and Erik were the last two at the table to clean up and he thought about it all for a moment before it just became too much and he picked up his plate, slamming it down so hard against the wood that it broke in his hands.

“I’m your son! There, dammit I said it! I’m your fucking son. Remember now? Leaving my mom while she was pregnant because you were so scared to have a family. You left her to figure it all out on her own! And where were you when I needed to learn how to ride a bike or throw a football?! You weren’t there! You’re my father and you’ve…” Peter’s voice broke as he blinked rapidly, trying his hardest to avoid tears as years of anger and resentment flew from his mouth without any warning. 

“You’re telling me you didn’t know? When I broke you out of the Pentagon you just…” He trailed off, shaking his head as he paced back and forth. He had half a mind to punch the stupid son of a bitch right in the face, but he didn’t.

“You never wanted to find me? Weren’t interested in seeing how your kid turned out? Well here I am. HERE I AM!. I was waiting to see how long it would take you to notice but I guess I gave up.”

Silence fell between the two of them, both refusing to look at each other. 

“Peter…” Erik started, trying to de-escalate the situation which was almost comical. He’d never been the level headed one before. 

“I don’t expect you to understand.. My life… I have been through hell. I was trying to spare you from it all. And selfishly.. I was scared.” He admitted, finally looking at Peter now, who was shaking with barely restrained anger.

“I was scared because I didn’t know what to do with a child..” 

“Well you could have figured it out. I don’t want to hear excuses, that’s not… Not going to fix things now. I’m not even sure if things can be fixed. Y’know, I remember seeing you on the news after I broke you out of prison. Something clicked in my mind that you were my dad. I’m surprised it took me as long as I did but I’ve never been known to be the smartest.. My mom told me I should be afraid of you but I told her I wasn’t.. I’m not afraid of you.”

Erik looked at him befuddled for a moment before he shook his head, deciding to sit back down in his chair. This conversation was probably going to be a long one.

“I don’t want you to be scared, Peter. I’ve never wanted you to be scared. I.. I truthfully don’t have an excuse for what I did to you and to your mother. I am sorry.”

Peter must not have been expecting him to apologize so easily because he looked at him in shock, hands shaking around the broken pieces of plate he still held, eyes welling with tears. Shakily he sat down in his seat at the table, setting the pieces of the plate down before he clenched his fists, hard. Dammit! He didn’t want to cry..

“I’m here now, Peter. And I’ll explain it all to you if you want. Any questions you have, I’ll answer them.”

“When did you know? When did you know I was your son?” Peter asked, sniffling softly as he wiped the tears from his eyes before they had the chance to fall. 

“Charles informed me. Well… He confirmed it. I’d had my suspicions since Apocalypse. The way you looked at me… I realized it then but I didn’t want to accept it. Especially not in that moment.”

Peter took a deep breath before nodding. Right now Erik was an open book and was going to answer any of his questions so now was the time. 

“Am I the only one? Kid of yours I mean.. Do I have any siblings I don’t know about? I’ve got my little sis but like.. I dunno it was a dumb question-“

“Nina.” Erik said, a sad look coming over his face. He didn’t look at Peter now, instead he looked at the broken pieces of the plate in front of him. His boy. 

“She was your little sister. She was- Everything to me. My whole world.”

Peter perked up for a moment before the tone of Erik’s voice and the look in his eyes had him expecting the worst. An uneasiness took hold in his stomach now, churning. He felt like he knew what Erik was going to say but he didn’t want him to say it. It would hurt him worse then he’d expect it to.

“She was killed. By humans..” anger rose up in Erik’s voice now as he spoke. He was still so bitter to the humans because they’d caused him nothing but suffering. He recalled that grim day in the woods. How eerily silent it all fell after the fact. The blood on his hands.. It was the worst day of Erik’s entire life and he’d lived through a lot of unimaginable things.

Peter swallowed thickly, zoning out when it was confirmed. He’d had another sister and he’d never gotten to meet her. And now.. she was gone. How weird it was to grieve someone you’ve never met and never would get to. She had still been part of Peter. They’d shared a father after all.

“I-“ Peter started until he felt his voice waver in the back of his throat, eyes burning as he cast his gaze back down to the broken plate. Everything was broken.. Not just the plate, he thought.

He didn’t want to ask how. Knowing she’d been killed was enough. Maybe one day in the future he’d ask for more but neither man was ready for that conversation yet.

Erik moved to pull something out of his pocket, showing Peter the small necklace with a little locket. 

“This is the only thing I have left. They’ve taken everything from me. Everyone I’ve loved.”

Peter’s heart was crushed at the words because… he was sitting right there! He’d always been right here.. Right in front of Erik’s face.. Did he not love him? Did he care at all for him in any sort of way? 

“… I’m right here. I’ve always been right here.. You know how many nights I laid awake crying because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you? Every time me and mom passed a man on the street I’d wonder. Wonder if maybe one of them was you. I wondered why as a child my father didn’t love me enough to stay.”

The words stung. They hurt Erik but Peter was far too lost in his emotions to try and hold anything back now. He’d say what he meant, after all he’d been waiting over two decades to say it. 

“Peter please…”

“No!” He yelled, slamming his fists on the table again, just barely avoiding the pieces of the plate. He moved away from the table now, standing in the middle of the dining room as he glared at Erik. “No! You can’t tell me what to do and you can’t tell me to stop. You ruined my life!! You ruined my life by not being in it!” Peter’s tears fell heavy now. The weight of the past two decades washed over him in waves. A choked sob clawed its way up his throat and he tried hard to not let it out but it did. All of his brokenness was on display. He wasn’t just the weird silver haired speedster who cracked jokes at the most inconvenient times. He was a person with real feelings, many of them ugly.

He pawed at his eyes with the palms of his hands, an angry sigh slipping from his lips. He’d been so focused on not letting Erik see him like this, faced away from him that he also hadn’t noticed that he’d gotten up from his chair and made his way over to him. 

Peter flinched when Erik wrapped his arms around him and cradled his head to his chest. He felt sick because fuck he’d needed this hug for years now. Something he’d never thought he’d get, here it was. 

He tensed for just a moment before he hugged back, practically clutching onto Erik’s shirt as he cried into his chest. Cried into his father’s chest. His dad. This was his dad.. It had all hit him and he was spiraling.

Erik held him through the tears, the quiet sobs that wracked his whole body. He held him through it, still in disbelief that this was the first time he’d held him. He never got to hold him as a baby, never got to watch him grow up. In so many ways he’d failed him. Never again. 

He pressed his face into his silver hair, letting out a shaky exhale. “I’m here now Peter. I promise. I’m going to be here for you from here on out.”

It went on like that for longer than either of them cared to count until eventually Peter pulled away shakily, letting out a half hearted laugh at how wet Erik’s shirt had become after soaking up all of his tears.

Their eyes met, Peter’s brow furrowed in such a similar way to Erik’s that for the first time it was so obvious that they were related.

Erik reached out and patted Peter’s shoulder gently, giving it a squeeze before letting go.

“It’s late, you should head to bed, kiddo.” 

“I know.” Peter zipped around the room, cleaning up the mess he’d made before he stopped in the doorway, glancing back at Erik.

“Hey-“

“Yes?”

“Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight, son.”

[peculiarbeauty]

kinda psa but

been kind of nervous about giving my thoughts on this but there has been a few people who attempted to follow me that i would feel safer with if i didn't see pairings they wrote that are um. a little pro shippy ? i'm uncomfortable with the romanticizing of characters that are incestual , abusive , or overall just deemed hugely problematic. for example , belle does not like gaston. i would never make the excuse that she somehow could COME AROUND to liking him to romantically ship with a gaston writer. belle is abused by gaston. he hopes to control her and is incredibly problematic with how he wishes to possess her. he is jealous , vindictive , narcissistic , and even when she makes her feelings clear that it is held with someone else .. he wants to kill the person who is in his way of being with her.

also obviously i do not write snow white but i HAVE wrote her and this was prevalent on my blog when i did. snow is canonically 14 years old. things outside of giddy laughter and childish cutesy banter that go into inappropriate territories i do not believe should somehow be JUSTIFIED. i'm uncomfortable with that just as i am uncomfortable with people writing pairings that are problematic under the guise that it's essentially okay that this happened. so anyway ?? even if i might LIKE your portrayal , if you tend to gravitate towards pairings that are very very problematic and attempt to justify that .. i just cannot in good faith support following.

i want to treat this as a place where we can all write our barbie doll characters and live in our fictional worlds and stuff but then also .. i don't want to sweep aside my own feelings on the matter. and tbh i'm also not saying you can't love a villain's arc because i LOVE a ton villain arcs. so yeah !! here's to setting my own boundaries on the matter.

[nikethestatue]

I finished ACOSF a few months ago and seeing this fandom has been so confusing to say the very least. Nesta is my favorite character and I loved the Valkyries but .... I just don't see this Gwynriel ship happening. I think they'd be cute together and I wouldn't be opposed to it obviously - but I just don't see it happening given where we left off in ACOSF. I also am confused about the personality difference in Gwyn & Elain and Azriel.

Gwyn didn't even kill anyone in the BR and was knocked out and carried to the top - so why are people acting like she is some great warrior and will destroy legions of armies and lead the Illyrians into war!? She saw a mini Pegasus at a sleepover and through it was cute and now all of a sudden people think she's going to ride one in the skies while she paints Prythian with the blood of her enemies? What enemies even?? She's not tied to any of the IC's plot?

Elain didn't really stand out to me in ACOSF, which makes sense because it was NESTA's story. I didn't really have an opinion on her and Azriel or her and Lucien. I get that Lucien makes her uncomfortable but SJM writes her pairings that way it seems so I could see them ending up together tbh. But then I read the BC and - wtf ?? I am firmly team Elriel now because what do you mean Azriel's out here dreaming about how elain TASTES . I see you freaky azriel 👀 goddamn I Definitely was not expecting that from him but now that I have seen it I can't go back. There's no way SJM wrote that and plans on making Elain then end up with Lucien. Like I thought it would be fine but after that BC - there's no going back.

Either way - it's weird that people have such a strong opinion on Azriel and Elain because I think combined, they've said maybe like 200 words total? I like the idea of them but we dont know much about them? Why are people forming such harsh steadfast opinions on what either of them want or need or desire when we don't know much of anything? They're both kind of mysterious.

Idk I feel like I just missed a book with how strongly everyone is arguing about these guys.

Elain - had some badass moments but barely mentioned on the page in ACOSF

Azriel - even more mysterious than Elain but the dry humor makes up for it.

Lucien - he's not been in the past 2 books?

Gwyn - is great but not the Aelin type of warrior people online are making her out to be

Where is all this coming from I am very confused??

Honestly, most of this is coming from TikTok, Headcanons and fan art on Insta.

You have NO IDEA how many asks i've received over the years with people saying the same thing 'i saw so many Gwynriel arts on Insta and I thought that there will be some amazing romance in ACOSF. THEN, I read the book. And I kept waiting for something to happen and nothing ever did."

I think the key word for a lot of GAs is 'then'--they first saw the art, watched the tiktoks, got themselves all jacked up on theories and headcanons, and then, THEN they read the book. So now, the problem is that they have a hard time separating reality/canon from all that stuff that brought them to the fandom in the first place.

They are digging their heels and arguing that it WILL HAPPEN!!! absolutely will. Gwyn will become a great warrior and will ride a Pegasus into battles. Azriel will fall madly in love with her. They'll have kinky sex and she'll 'heal' him.

ALL of it comes from fan art. Literally, look at 99% of Gwynriel fan art and it's all 'fake'--imagined scenes that never happened.

I think many of them either left the fandom or can't accept that they've been duped and are incorrect in their assumptions.

It will be interesting to see what the fallout will be once the book is released.

[stmnn]

While im waiting for Kisame's design,,, do you have any hc for this AU you can share rn?,,,,

Hell yeah i do

Im actually working on he's design right now, so I'll try to finish it today.(　；∀；)

I am sure that the list below will be replenished

And you can actually write me you're ideas ( ´･ω･)

1. Obito

Tobi - In public (Deidara calls him this on a regular basis.).

Madara Uchiha - His teacher's name, which he uses in recitals.

2. Pain - His deputy, his right hand man.

Kisame - A close comrade

Deidara - More often fooling around together.

Conan is Pain's substitute.

3. His team call sign is (tsuki) moon.

4. Retains Toby's identity only under a mask, which he does not remove in public places.

5. Often overworked and tries to do his best.

6. Despite his desire to win, if someone on the team is seriously injured, Obito would rather take care of his comrade than continue the competition.

7. The least discomfort he feels in front of Kisame and Pain is when he takes off his mask.

8. Doesn't like it when Madara is mentioned, or attempts to make comparisons.

9. Catches panic attacks due to his claustrophobia.

10. He needs to be FORCED to rest.

1. Hidan

2. Suffers from various ailments due to his love of licking other people's blood. Kakuzu is tired of paying for his treatment.

3. Almost always walks around naked to the waist. He is always given sweaters and jackets, but he hangs them around his waist or neck.

4. A religious fanatic. (Obviously)

5. Before a round, he applies black paint to certain parts of his body. This is his "ritual", so his god Jashin grants good luck.

6. His team call sign is (kami) god

7. Always called first to perform, especially to wave his fists.

8. Asks Kakuzu to spar with him.

1. Deidara

2. Didn't like wearing big team coats, so they made him a more open, loose design that wouldn't interfere with using techniques.

3.The mouths on his hands are covered with gloves during normal stages.

He even has a zipper on his chest.

4. Always reacts violently to losses.

5. His hands often fall off at the worst possible moment..... which he blames on Kakuzu, not his own thoughtless actions.

6. His team call sign is (bakuhatsu) explosion.

1. Kisame

2. Fish ears...

3. Instead of Samehada, he has a Cricket Bat. (They still look alike)

4. Can perform melee rounds.

5. His team call sign is (Shaku) Shark.

6. Always seems overly violent to other teams, but among Akatsuki he is one of the most caring team members.

7. obvious babysitter for the Uchiha's.

8. cares about the overall health of the team.

9. I also want to give him a shark tail.... Yes.. What are you going to do to me? А?! WHAT?! GO AHEAD AND ATTACK.

1. Kakuzu

2. Usually does not perform, but will join Hidan and Kisame in a melee round if necessary.

3. All of the Akatsuki team's expenses come from his wallet. He allocates resources.

4. Usually patches up other people's wounds when needed.

5. Callsign - (Hatsu) Hearts.

6. Doesn't like solo performances in public, but may take part to blow off steam.

[oflights]

WIP to-write 2024 game

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP to-write folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

thank you for tagging me @porcelainheart3! your WIPs sound like so much fun!

i've been meaning to do a game like this for a bit, since i've starting to near the end of the road with The Star Splitter and i'm thinking about 2024 writing!

i have...a lot of ideas lol. i would not call any of these WIPs (so i have no snippets, i'm sorry), and i omitted some i've talked about before, but if they're on here i'd love to talk about them!! send me a title/fic nickname or a number!

reddit penguin story mpreg

Gilmore Girls AU

arranged marriage fuck-or-die feat. amortentia 

Draco waiting by Harry’s hospital bed…for what?

Kinkuary; Harry can read Draco’s horny, horny mind

blackmail and broomsticks 

Penny Dreadful???

shipwreck, no cannibals (?)

night market feat. fae stuff and imps and bargains

No Children

6th year AU with no Draco (NYC fic?)

Draco burned at the stake + dragons

[blueskittlesart]

in the nicest and most non-confrontational way possible. i feel like some of you think that anything that isn't directly openly spelled out for you within a story is "missed potential" or "unexplored." like. sometimes there are implied narratives. sometimes the point is that you as the reader are supposed to think and draw your own conclusions and participate in the story. the writers not directly spelling every little detail out for you doesn't mean that the story is poorly written or missed its own plot details somehow. PLEASE.

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Fifteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: ANGST... that's about the only major warning I can think of

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Jurian and Vassa took the attic and became scarce, but when night and day slid into one another you still heard her painful screams, muffled as they were by the magic that encased their room. It was a feeling more than anything else. A tension that gripped the House until it seemed to be sobbing. At sunrise and sunset without fail, Vassa’s body broke and rearranged itself, flesh turning to feathers and feathers to flesh. Before it had been a painless process where her body came and went in its various forms, but no longer. Now she felt everything alongside an itch deep within her bones that couldn’t be satiated by food or drink or anything else. 

Go to the lake! Her body screamed. Go to Koschei! And then punished her when she didn’t comply. Like a beast had sunk its claws into her flesh, its waiting mouth only inches away from snapping. To stay away was a slow, agonizing march to death. To move close would be swift, but final, and somehow Vassa knew that if she gave into Koschei’s call, she would be lost forever.

You lingered at the base of the attic's staircase, your bare feet sinking into the soft rug until the sounds of cracking bones finally ceased. Three pairs of feet shuffled above your head and you heard Jurian’s faint whispers like a gentle push of air. When the door opened and Lucien emerged, you saw Vassa crumpled on the floor, now a bone-thin woman with dull, coppery hair and skin ravaged by scratches and pockmarks. 

“Shhhh. It’s ok.” Jurian whispered, encasing her in his arms. 

“I can’t,” her voice trembled. “It hurts. I-I-I’m burning.” 

“Y/n?” Lucien frowned. The door slammed shut with a bang and you jumped backwards. You clutched a velvet pouch close to your chest and then slowly held it out to Lucien. 

“It’s for Vassa,” you explained, trying to keep your eyes on his mismatched ones — one russet as river stones, one gold like the sun. He opened the bag and stared in confusion at the fine, white powder within, giving it a tentative sniff. “Morphine. Humans use it for pain.” 

“I know of it.” Lucien’s frown deepened. “They get addicted. Take too much and they die.” 

“She’s already addicted. That’s what’s happening isn’t it? Koschei’s drawing his power away to get her to return to the lake and every day that passes she’s dying.” Lucien tightened his fists around the bag, still skeptical. Vassa had endured enough. He didn’t want to have her endure this either. “The bag is enchanted and will never allow her to draw too much. Just enough to calm her hunger. If we’re lucky it might help her sleep too.” 

Lucien stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists from around the gold drawstring, waiting for Vassa’s cries to cease. But they never did. And there you were standing in front of him, unwavering and expectant. There was a glimmer of stubbornness in your gaze. A sign of the hours you’d spent researching Vassa’s condition and acquiring the strange human drug, and your disapproval if Lucien didn’t accept it. 

“Thank you, Y/n,” he whispered, “But please go. Vassa hates for anyone to see her like this. Even Jurian and I.” 

You swallowed thickly and nodded, disappearing down the stairs as quickly as you could. The next morning when the sun rose over the mountains and Vassa changed, you heard only the House’s usual breathings. 

The House buckled under the weight of the Inner Circle’s secrets and the sheer volume of history that had occurred within its walls and between its occupants. It utilized its magic in clever ways — your door opened with a creak that wasn’t there before so that Azriel would always hear your comings and goings. Lucien would suddenly find his door locked and the curtains drawn on the days when Helion made surprise visits to see Y/n. Nyx would find himself ushered around by a broomstick that swatted his ankles when the adults were discussing private matters. It was all a great deal of work. 

So it was a relief when Rhys and Feyre quietly moved their children to the House of Wind with Nesta and Cassian, and when Mor and Emerie took the final steps in emptying their rooms and went to hide out in their city apartment. It was even more of a relief when Helion returned to the Day Court, but not before throwing a heavy threat in Azriel’s face that if he should ever hurt his daughter again in any way, shape, or form, he’d strip the wings off his back. 

Meals at the House were tense, quiet affairs, something not even Feyre, Elain, and Nesta’s sisterly conversations or Cassian’s light-hearted humor could ease. Elain stayed close to Lucien’s side, one hand always on his arm or resting against his back or brushing against his, but that didn’t erase what the Blood Duel had done to his trust in Elain. He was kind, but guarded, especially when Azriel was in the room. But it was more than she could ask for because it was more than she’d ever given him in the beginning. 

You and Azriel were worse off.

You were speaking once more, but your words were always laced with a bit of apprehension and Azriel’s were always filled with sorrowful hope. Conversations were dull, short, and didn’t even begin to brush the surface of all the things you should have been talking about. You were terrified not of the Shadowsinger, but of his opinion of you. Did he want you so he could fix you? So that he could feel needed? So that you could be another one in a list of females he burned through? 

It never truly seemed like that was the case, but you also didn’t trust yourself when it came to your emotions. You had told him once that you couldn’t imagine having a love like Feyre and Rhysand’s, or Nesta and Cassian’s, and you still meant it. You were a matchstick and he was flint, and you didn’t know what would happen to you after he had lit you aflame. For all you knew, you were already burning and this wonderful thing you’d had with Azriel would live and die with nothing more than the memory of an embrace in Rhysand’s office to show for it. 

But oh how you ached to touch him again. To hold him like you had before and to have him return the gesture just as strongly. 

You stiffened when Azriel’s hand brushed your arm, warmth bursting out from the point of contact. 

“I’m sorry.” Azriel whispered, and he was talking about more than the wine he spilled when he reached over the table.

You spared him a glance, the first real look you’d given him in two weeks. The flagon slipped from his hands, and if it weren’t for his shadows catching it an inch above the floor, the room would have been doused in burgundy red. 

“Does Lucien know?” 

Rhysand looked up from his papers. Missives from the Darkbringer army and Illyrian troops up north clogged his desk, all begrudgingly accepting his orders to prepare for what could amount to another lengthy war. Letters thrown back and forth between the seven courts added to the chaos, all of them war-weary and desperate for a path that wouldn’t lead to bloodshed. 

You took up the center of his room and stood so quietly he hadn’t even noticed you until you spoke. It had been eating away at you for days since Lucien’s arrival. Every time you two saw one another or spoke, you tried to scrounge for clues that would reveal whether he knew he was Helion’s son and whether he might suspect you were Helion’s daughter as well. The other members of the Inner Circle had been tight-lipped about that secret, a skill you now knew they all possessed with alarming dexterity. 

“Does Lucien know he’s Helion’s son?”

Rhysand slumped back in his chair, rubbing his temples with one careful hand. Finally he said, “Yes.” 

The answer knocked the breath from your lungs. You’d been expecting the opposite. “Does he… does he know about me?” 

Rhys sighed and shook his head. You didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. 

“How long has he known?” 

“Six years. Feyre was the one to tell him. She was actually the first of us to recognize the similarity, believe it or not. But then, no one ever dared to give weight to the rumors surrounding Helion and Aurelia Vanserra while Beron was alive.”

You rocked back and forth on your feet, breath shaking as it entered your body. “Six years. Six years and you never thought to tell Helion that he has a son? I thought you two were friends?”

Rhysand tensed. “I’m Lucien’s friend as well and he begged us to never speak of it - to live as though we’d never learned that secret. And I keep my secrets. We all do.” 

“You and your family have made that very clear in the time that I’ve been here.” 

“If you mean Azriel—”

“Don’t play dumb, Rhys, you know I’m talking about him.” Tears pricked at your eyes, adding to the humiliation that had coated you like a film ever since you’d seen his memories about Mor, Elain, and Gwyn. “I don’t—” You swallowed thickly, “I can imagine how you must have all been whispering behind my back about Azriel and I. How you must have found it so pathetic the way he charmed me when I was really his fourth choice.”

“That’s not true.” Was what Rhysand was going to say. But he didn’t need to. Azriel said it for him. 

Your face lost all color, any bravado melting away at the feeling of Azriel’s shadows wrapping around your ankles like ribbons of silk. You could feel him in the room and that quiet darkness he carried around with him as inherently as if it were stitched onto his body. 

Azriel was shaking. Shaking. With anger, turmoil, or grief — you couldn’t name it. All you knew is that one moment you were standing in Rhysand’s office, all velvet upholstery and suave, expensive taste, and the next you were in Azriel’s room. 

Everything smelled like mountain air. Maybe it was the gothic windows that stretched into the vaulted ceilings, stained glass opening out onto a personal balcony with deep blue curtains fluttering in the breeze. But you were sure that even with the windows barred it would smell the same. It would smell like Azriel. If you threw open his wardrobe you’d come face to face with a wall of black. Lots and lots of black. Black suits he hardly ever wore. Black fighting leathers. Black leather jackets for everyday. Black trousers. Black boots on the floor. Very practical. Very Azriel. 

If you dug through his dresser drawers you’d find black boxers and socks to match and no shortage of knives and daggers hidden behind wooden planks or in leather sleeves nailed to the bottom of his desk. But at first glance you only saw three weapons in plain view — Truth Teller, blade down and stuck in the wood grain of his desk beside a pile of reports, and two obsidian blades hanging from the wall beside his midnight blue bed in the shape of an “x.” 

The smell — Azriel’s smell — calmed you, at least up to the point where you turned to find him standing less than six inches away, hazel eyes boring into yours. Then your pulse skyrocketed. You were certain that if he only looked down to your heart he’d see it pounding against your chest like a drum skin ready to burst. 

“That’s not true,” he repeated earnestly. “And don’t you dare believe it. Not even for a second.” 

His eyes jumped back and forth between yours and before he could stop himself, his hands were grasping yours in a gentle hold. The leather gloves were soft and supple beneath your fingertips. You wanted to rip them off so you could feel his scarred hands again. 

“You weren’t meant to hear that,” you whispered, suddenly feeling small. That angry humiliation went up in a puff of smoke and left you shy and uncertain. 

Azriel gripped your hands a little tighter and you watched as tendrils of shadow worked their way up your arms and got lost in your hair. “But I did,” he said breathlessly, “And I need you to know that it’s not true.” 

“Azriel—”

“I know—” he was shaking his head, “I know what Helion said and I won’t lie and tell you that I’m perfect or that I’ve made any smart decisions about love in the past — I’ve not make a single one — but… but Y/n you’re not a fourth choice. You’re not something broken that I’m trying to fix or some fantasy I’ve fallen for.”

His hands shook and despite the gloves his hands still felt sticky and wet. Slick with your blood. The burning scent of iron in his nose.

“You’re the most real thing in the world to me. You’re—” You’re my mate. The words crawled up his throat like acid and it just felt wrong. He would say those words to you. He would. But not now. Not like this. He came up with something else. “Y/n, please tell me you believe me. Please.”

And there you were. Falling all over again. Burning like a matchstick on fire. The flames slowly eating away at you bit by bit. You wondered what would happen when you finally hit the ground, or when you ran out of length. Would he still hold you like this? Would you still feel real to him? 

“How am I meant to know, Azriel?” 

You’d always been good at books. You knew the ways in which these stories worked where the themes and plot points had been preordained and written with the purpose of being tied up in a neat package by the final page. People were very different. They were unpredictable and chaotic and they could lie through the skin of their teeth and believe they were telling the truth. And that was the problem wasn’t it? Because you still believed every word that came out of Azriel’s mouth, and his hands still felt like they were keeping you tethered to this earth when sometimes your powers and the memories that came with them made you feel like a whisper on the wind. Weightless and at the mercy of something you couldn’t control. 

“You can trust me. You can know for yourself.” 

He pressed your hand against his cheek and you wanted to cry at the faint pricks of stubble beneath your skin and the sharp curve of his jaw. 

He wanted you to use your power on him. He wanted you to learn all the ways he wanted you. All the ways he loved you.  

But you couldn’t do it. 

Azriel panicked when you remained silent, staring at him and at his hands like you were frightened. All at once he was back on the streets of Velaris, cobblestones shaving away at the skin of his palms as he dragged his way up to you inch by bloody inch, fighting against a body that was too broken to move. 

He couldn’t remember what it felt like when he’d stabbed you through the chest and dropped you on the street. Everything between the moment he saw Andrian’s clear-cut eyes to the moment he saw Rhysand’s horrified gaze was fuzzy and dark. But that made it worse because now in his nightmares he could imagine all the ways he’d hurt you, each version teeming with the same level of horror and possibility as the previous one. 

He let you go and hated himself when you stepped back, your hand slipping away. 

“I won’t… I won’t hurt you again, Y/n. I swear on my life. I’ll-I’ll make a bargain, I don’t care. I would sooner die than let something like that happen again.” 

I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.

“Y/n, please.”

 I am not broken. But I am afraid. 

You fled from his bedroom. 

The air had a bite to it now with winter descending. The snow line on the mountains dipped lower and lower each day, creeping like ivy down a brick wall. 

Elain never wore gloves. Not when she was gardening. It was something she and Ione had in common. She liked the feeling of her strong hands, the callouses on her palms and fingers that she’d earned all on her own. She grunted, slamming her shovel into the soil and feeling the microscopic chips of ice give way when she kicked down on the blade. It was too late in the season to be planting tulip bulbs. If she’d been in Velaris she would have done this four weeks ago. But it was alright with her. She knew the value of hard work, and she had enough hope for the future to believe that even though she was late, she’d have something beautiful to call hers come springtime. 

“It’s time for that conversation I was telling you about,” she said cryptically, as was her way. 

Lucien dropped the final basket beside where Elain now knelt in the dirt, her pale pink dress dirtied and littered with her own handprints. The brown bulbs rolled around like oversized chestnuts, the kind that he’d be roasting over a fire right now if he were still in Autumn Court. Instead he was here, lingering in a Court that had never felt like home. Then again… he’d never felt at home in Autumn, Spring, or the Human Lands either. 

He straightened up and wiped his hands clean on his trousers, golden and russet eyes trailing over the River House’s grounds for this mysterious person he was meant to speak to.

There. 

The faint swishing of black robes behind a dark green topiary tree. He should have known Elain had been talking about you. 

You cracked your knuckles and rehearsed the words you’d scribbled out earlier that day and then set to fire in a maddening loop. You’d been restless with the truth of Lucien’s parentage and you couldn’t believe that the others had held their tongues so readily. As it was, without Azriel’s company to help quiet your mind, you’d dug into this new piece of information like a starving animal and couldn’t let go.

Was this a good time to tell him? Would there ever be a good time to tell him? You had no idea. 

Somewhere in the attic, you knew Vassa was itching to take to the skies like the burning comet she was. Every night she shivered in Jurian’s arms, the morphine barely able to take the edge off the humming in her bones, and every morning she let him lock her away in her cage. It was getting worse and worse trying to keep her from succumbing to Koschei’s influence. Even now you thought you could hear her keen cries whistling from the attic like ten thousand arrows launched into the air. 

Somewhere else, in a secret, hidden place you knew nothing about, Andrian had finally been imprisoned. Andrian with his bent neck and silver, candy-floss hair and bloody little hands. 

You shivered and jumped back five feet when Lucien called your name, kind eyes narrowed in concern. His shirt was loose and open and the sweat on his body rose like mist off his skin. He was his mother’s son first, Helion’s child second, and fire still ran through his veins. The chill did not touch him. 

He tipped his head to the side, red hair spilling out from the messy way he’d tied it up and away from his face. A brutal scar ran through his eye like a fissure, starting at the center of his brow before clawing its way down his jaw like a lightning strike frozen in time. But for all the cruelty he’d been dealt with in life, his eyes were gentle, even the mechanical one that whirred and flashed in the sun. 

They were even kinder when he looked at you. You with your inquisitive gaze and curious nature, like a stray cat that couldn’t help but linger too long at doorways. One foot inside, one foot ready to run and hide. He’d caught you watching him at dinners, and he’d catch himself staring when you walked around the house with a book in your hand, so utterly absorbed that you would bump against doorways and bang your hips against sharp corners. 

“Elain told me about you. Did you know that?” 

You blinked in surprise. “What did she say?”

“Elain… Elain doesn’t always speak clearly. Much of what comes out of her mouth can feel eerie or discomforting. But, she told me before we left for the Night Court that I would be happy I came. That I would never regret the things I learned on my trip.” He tilted his head even further, looking more and more like a fox with each turn of his face. “And she mentioned a bird. A bird with ink-tipped wings and eyes like a crow.” 

You flexed your fingers, well aware that the tips were smudged with ink, the nails bitten down to the quick. 

“Someone clever and cautious who’d been hidden away their whole life and needed to see the sun.” 

You felt stripped bare. That strange vulnerability that comes with being summed up in so few words had you feeling airy. Like one sentence could be enough to carry the weight of the three centuries you’d lived and never buckle. 

“I know you’re Helion’s son. I recognized it the moment I saw you.” 

Lucien stepped back, scarlet brows shooting up into his hair with alarm.

You hesitated, then continued on cautiously. “I recognized it because I would know my father’s face anywhere.” 

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

I KNOW IT'S A CLIFFHANGER ENDING BUT I NEEDED TO BREAK EVERYTHING INTO CHAPTERS SOMEWHERE AND I'M GOING TO TRY AND GET CHAPTER 16 UP BY WEDNESDAY SO I DON'T LEAVE Y'ALL HANGING FOR TOO LONG. HAVE MERCY!!!

The good news is that Chapter 16 is already mostly written, I just need to edit it all to make sure things flow smoothly. Also, LUCIEN KNOWS NOW AHHHHHHHHHHHH

Sorry for the Azriel angst... but it's delicious, no?

[gay-otlc]

It's very frustrating when I see a post that's like. A very well articulated and thoughtful analysis on transmisogyny. And then one paragraph wildly misrepresenting the experiences of transmasculine people.

[ganondoodle]

i am being so brave trying so hard to hold back writing a rant about that 'minimizing narrative noise' comment on totk sage concept art bc its actively flying around in my head like the worlds most annoying fly

[thesummerstorms]

The other thing that I think I would want in an Annabeth Wayne AU that I don't think I've seen so far is Bruce being absolutely pissed at Athena.

It was bad enough with Talia and Damian, but Athena is a literal god of wisdom who should know better AND he doesn't even have the "culpability" of having slept with her.

She one hundred percent saw Batman, tactician of the Justice League, was drawn in by her aspect of the Goddess of Strategy, and proceeded to create a child without his consent, a daughter who she didn't even raise before the child became a weapon.

And like whatever else, however fucked up Damian was by his own training to become a child-weapon, at least Talia loved Damian.

Whereas Athena loves Annabeth in the way a Goddess loves, not the way a Person loves, and I don't think Bruce, whose entire identity is so fixated on his relationship with his own parents, would recognize that as love at all.

And, like, Talia put Damian through a lot of shit. I think Bruce would be angry there too. But when push came to shove, she at least at some point brought him to Bruce because she thought it was in her son's best interests.

Athena actively lead Annabeth away from Bruce and into the streets at the age of seven, which Bruce would never see as in her best interest, whatever Athena's godly perspective is, however badly he reacted after Jason's death, even though he couldn't see (and dismissed the idea of) the spiders and the monsters. She was seven. In the streets of Gotham.

Athena let Annabeth fight a major role in two wars back to back without being there to train her or protect her or love her or even advise her. Athena advocated for the cold blooded murder of the other children who had actually tried to keep his daughter safe. Athena sent Annabeth against Arachne when Athena's children have universally died on that quest for a thousand years.

Athena let Bruce think he had gotten Annabeth killed because of his own inability to handle his grief. Let him think his daughter was dead or worse for years. Would have let him keep thinking that if the Fates didn't have other plans.

And just, in true fashion for all of my ideas on a PJO x DC crossover, everyone really comes out more traumatized than before. This includes Bruce.

Because now he wasn't just used unknowingly for a child just once, but twice. And in both cases he's going to have to live forever with the guilt of not having been able to protect his kids from what their other parent wanted to make of them

(On top of all the ways he has directly failed them and made any complexes worse, of course )