#so i can be there with you. not in body but in spirit

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

A Day at the Park 🎡🎢

Leah Williamson x reader

warning : smut🔞

summary :

Durning a date, in an Amusement Park, Leah prepares a little suprise for you.

The sun was shining brightly as you and Leah strolled through the bustling amusement park, hand in hand. The scent of popcorn and cotton candy filled the air, and the sounds of laughter and excited screams from the nearby rides created a cheerful atmosphere. It had been weeks since you’d both had a day off together, and you couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than here, exploring the park with Leah.

You’d already been on a few rides, and the adrenaline rush had you both in high spirits. But as the day went on, Leah had been giving you a few sly, mischievous glances, and you knew she was planning something. You just didn’t know what.

After grabbing some snacks, Leah leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I think it’s time for a little break. Come with me.”

Without question, you followed her through the crowds until you reached the bathrooms. Once inside, Leah pulled you into one of the stalls, her lips curving into that familiar smirk that sent shivers down your spine.

“We’re going to make today even more fun,” she murmured, pulling something out of her bag.

Your eyes widened when you realized what it was—a small, discreet vibrator. “Leah,” you whispered, a nervous giggle escaping you.

“Shh,” she teased, her fingers gently lifting your skirt. “You’ll be fine, baby. Just trust me.”

Before you could protest, she pressed the toy against you, carefully adjusting it in place. Once satisfied, Leah gave you a quick kiss and stepped back, watching your reaction. “There. Now, let’s see how well you can handle the rest of the day.”

With a flick of her phone, she turned the vibrator on to the lowest setting. The gentle hum between your legs caught you off guard, and you bit your lip to stifle a gasp. Leah grinned, clearly enjoying the control she had over you.

As you left the bathroom, the two of you continued walking around the park, but you couldn’t focus on much else besides the subtle vibrations. Leah would occasionally bump the setting up, making it harder and harder for you to concentrate. Each time, she’d throw you a casual glance, like she hadn’t just sent a surge of pleasure through your body.

It wasn’t until you reached the line for the park’s most popular roller coaster that things really escalated. The wait was long, with a line that snaked back and forth, but Leah didn’t seem bothered. In fact, she seemed rather amused as she pulled out her phone and increased the intensity again.

Your knees nearly buckled as the sensation grew stronger, and you had to lean against Leah for support. “Leah,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I don’t think I can…”

She chuckled softly, slipping an arm around your waist. “Oh, you can. We’ve got a lot of waiting to do, and I plan on making every minute interesting.”

With the vibrations now pulsing insistently, you did your best to keep your composure. Every minute felt like an eternity as you shuffled forward in the line, and Leah was relentless, switching the settings up and down just to keep you on edge.

By the time you reached the front of the line, your legs were trembling, and your body was buzzing with sensation. Leah gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You’re doing so well, love.”

Just as the roller coaster came to a stop and the ride attendants opened the gates, Leah finally turned the vibrator off. The sudden lack of stimulation left you breathless, and you gave her a look that was half-relieved, half-frustrated.

Leah just smiled, taking your hand and leading you to your seats on the ride. “Now, let’s see how you handle this,” she teased, buckling you in.

As the roller coaster began its ascent, you couldn’t help but think that this was going to be the wildest ride of the day—but not just because of the roller coaster.

You stole a glance at Leah, who was watching you with that same playful grin, and you couldn’t help but laugh. You’d never been more excited, or more nervous, for a day at the park.

The roller coaster slowly climbed its first massive incline, the clicking of the chain pulling you higher and higher only added to the tension building inside you. As you approached the peak, you stole a glance at Leah, who was still watching you with that teasing glint in her eyes. Her hand casually rested near her phone, and you just knew she was waiting for the perfect moment.

When the ride finally crested the top, you braced yourself for the plunge, heart racing. But before the coaster could take its dramatic first drop, Leah smirked and, with a subtle swipe on her phone, the vibrator hummed back to life at full intensity.

Your breath hitched sharply as you were suddenly thrown into both the descent of the roller coaster and the overwhelming rush of sensation between your legs. The speed, the wind, the weightlessness of the drop, it all mingled with the relentless vibrations coursing through you, creating an electrifying mix of adrenaline and pleasure.

You gripped the safety bar tighter, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to stifle a moan. The coaster whipped around sharp turns, the G-forces pulling you in every direction, but it was the internal chaos Leah had caused that really had you on the edge.

Leah, of course, was completely unfazed, laughing along with the other riders, though you could feel her hand occasionally resting on your leg, gently squeezing it in reassurance—or perhaps as a reminder of who was in control. As the ride continued, each drop, each turn heightened the pleasure in ways you hadn’t expected. The thrill of the coaster was one thing, but the constant teasing hum made it so much more intense. You bit your lip hard, trying to keep any sound from escaping, especially with all the other people so close. The feeling was almost too much to bear.

When the ride finally began to slow down and pull back into the station, you were left panting, your body trembling from a mix of adrenaline and overstimulation. Leah shot you a satisfied grin, leaning in close to whisper in your ear, “You made it through. I’m impressed.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though it came out more like a breathless giggle. As you both unbuckled and stepped off the ride, your legs felt wobbly, but Leah was right there, steadying you with a strong arm around your waist.

“We should grab some lunch,” she said casually, like she hadn’t just spent the past several hours torturing you with pleasure. You shot her a look, but she only grinned wider.

The rest of the day was a blur of teasing glances and stolen touches. Leah would turn the toy on at random moments, while waiting in line, walking through the park, even as you sat down to eat. Each time, she played with the settings, keeping you guessing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, but never quite letting you go over.

By the time evening rolled around, the sun beginning to set and the park starting to wind down, you were completely spent. Your body was still tingling, and your mind was hazy from the constant stimulation. But despite it all, you couldn’t stop smiling.

Leah pulled you close as you walked towards the park exit, her arm wrapped around your shoulders. “You were amazing today,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I think you’ve earned a reward when we get home.”

Your heart fluttered at the promise in her voice, and despite the exhaustion, you found yourself excited for what the rest of the night had in store.

Leah’s promise hung in the air between the two of you, and your body responded to the mere thought of what was to come later. But for now, you were relieved to be heading towards the exit, finally getting a break from the non-stop teasing that had kept you on edge all day. The toy was still inside you, and every step reminded you of its presence, but Leah had dialed it down, allowing you some respite as the two of you strolled hand in hand through the park.

The lights around the park began to glow, giving the entire place a magical, dreamlike feel. Leah glanced at you, catching the soft glow of the lights reflecting off your face. Her smile was tender, and for a moment, it seemed like the teasing was done, like she was content just to hold you close.

But then, just as you were nearing the exit, she paused, her eyes glinting with mischief once more.

"One more ride," she said, her voice low and playful. You shot her a look, half-exasperated, half-intrigued.

"Leah," you began, your voice laced with a mixture of exhaustion and amusement.

Her thumb moved to her phone again, and she raised an eyebrow, daring you. "You up for it?"

You knew that look. She wasn't going to let this night end without one last thrill. Despite how worn out you felt from the constant teasing, a part of you was still excited, craving more of that intoxicating mix of pleasure and thrill.

"Fine," you muttered, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Leah beamed, leading you toward a quiet, more secluded area of the park where the last ride waited, a gentle Ferris wheel that loomed above, moving lazily in the night sky. It was a far cry from the intense coasters you’d been on earlier, but somehow, you knew this slow, intimate ride would be just as intense in its own way.

You climbed into the small, private cabin of the Ferris wheel, settling in beside Leah. The door shut behind you, and soon, you were slowly lifted into the air, the city lights twinkling in the distance as the ride began its gradual ascent.

The higher you went, the quieter the park became, until it was just the two of you, suspended in the air. Leah slipped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer, her fingers tracing small circles on your arm.

"You've been so good today," she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. "I think you deserve something special."

Before you could respond, she turned the toy back on, this time at a slow, steady pace, just enough to send a wave of warmth through you. The sudden stimulation in the quiet, peaceful setting was a stark contrast to the chaos of earlier. It was almost too much, yet exactly what you wanted.

Leah's fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze. "I’m going to let you finish," she whispered, her eyes dark with promise. "But not until we reach the top."

Your breath caught in your throat as the Ferris wheel continued to rise, the anticipation building with every slow rotation. Leah kept the vibrations steady, teasing you just enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to push you over.

You clenched your thighs together, biting your lip to stifle a moan as you neared the top of the wheel. Leah watched you intently, clearly enjoying every second of your struggle.

Finally, the cabin reached the very peak, and the ride paused, leaving you suspended at the highest point, the world stretching out below you. Leah leaned in, her lips grazing your neck as she whispered, "Now."

With a flick of her fingers on the app, she cranked up the intensity, and the sudden surge of pleasure tore through you. You gasped, gripping the edge of the seat as your body tensed, overwhelmed by the combination of the teasing, the anticipation, and now, the release.

Leah's arm tightened around you, holding you steady as you trembled, waves of pleasure crashing over you. She watched you the entire time, her breath warm against your skin as she murmured soft, reassuring words, guiding you through the overwhelming sensations.

As the ride began its slow descent, the toy hummed to a gentle stop, leaving you breathless and spent, leaning against Leah's side. She kissed your temple, her hand running soothingly up and down your arm.

"See?" she said, her voice soft and teasing. "A perfect ending to a perfect day."

You could only nod, too drained to respond with anything more. As the Ferris wheel reached the bottom, you knew that the day had been far from ordinary, but with Leah by your side, you wouldn't have had it any other way.

As you exited the ride and headed toward home, hand in hand, you couldn't help but smile, already looking forward to whatever adventure Leah had planned next.

my first smut :o, i hope it isn't to bad <3

[plutonium-sky]

AIGHT HERE WE GO.

So! About the revelation I mentioned with WL and Eden statues- I’m going to give some context first. Me and @halcyon-xxy-art were discussing some Sky DND stuff, and then had an interesting idea- what if there was light corruption, alongside dark corruption?

We immediately establish dark corruption as the crystalized bodies, with the soul (light) trapped inside. The thing is, we wanted to make it so that there wasn’t any weakening of their light- it’s just that there is more darkness. After that got put out, we started thinking about what light corruption would look like, and Aria basically perfectly described a Winged Light. That’s when I had my revelation. What if Winged Lights are sky kids who got light overflow?

I’ll elaborate on that in a bit when I establish another fact we put out right after. Skykid DO have darkness inside them. It’s just hidden in a way no one would expect- it’s right in front of us. A skykid’s darkness would be their physical Body. And, if we go by that logic, their light would be everything else that the body holds- their light and Soul.

And then we added more to the corruption parts. Darkness corruption would work that the soul is trapped inside the body- and cannot return to Megabird (it would slowly weaken inside, losing its power bit by bit as the overbearing darkness drains it.) Light corruption was easy to figure out from there as well. The soul doesn’t have a body to guide it back to the cycle (it had burnt it away, and now the soul is horribly exposed, frozen in time, until a new, temporary vessel guides it back to freedom.)

The skykid’s body needs to walk alongside a delicate balance of light and dark, lest things go to SHIT for them. Too much light will result in being corrupted and overloaded by it, and the body will burn and flake away and the soul be frozen in time and space without the body to guide it back to the cycle. Too much darkness will slow them down, overtake them, eventually turning the skykid into an immovable statue, the soul covered on all sides, and it’s now trapped in a cage of its own making.

Also, absorbing WL (the lost souls of someone else) benefits us instead of harming us because all the overloaded light is still being taken by the other’s soul, not yours. Of course, a little still leaks through- and that’s why it makes flying easier. It’s a sort of…. symbiotic relationship, where the sky kid gives the soul a temporary vessel for it to rest in, while the soul helps the vessel, benefitting it as safely as it can. It takes more WL the longer you have to fly for safety concerns- if they keep on sharing the same amount of energy, the light corruption will happen once more, to a new victim, and now there will be two souls trapped beside each other.

Also, the body and soul theory is further supported by sky kids extinguishing. NORMALLY, we don’t grow crystals. By normally I mean stuff like rain and non-shard crabs. That would be a “normal” death- we aren’t corrupted, the soul and body are still in balance. There’s the pity WL too- you can still be saved. For lore reasons, I’m going to partially ignore the fact that you would still get a pity WL if you lost all of yours to a krill, shard, or shard crabs, because let’s be honest- it’s just ingame things. And, if my memory serves my right (I can’t play sky at the moment to check properly), you would grow crystals for all of those deaths- corrupted by darkness.

There’s then Eden. We run around, giving WL to the lost to darkness bodies of sky kids- or perhaps spirits. Honestly, it doesn’t matter. But, what matters is that somehow, this works in freeing them. My theory for how is that the light corrupted and overloaded soul helps balance out the dark corrupted body, sharing its light with the trapped soul inside. By the point we find the eden bodies, though, the souls are so weakened that they’re barely there- my explanation as to why we don’t see double the winged lights in orbit. They need time to recover.

The last nail in the coffin for this theory, to me, is the cutscene in eden that happens when we finally lose all of our winged light and become a statue ourselves. Where we fall in darkness, as a dark figure, then land. The light and dark of our being in a limbo meet. The light (soul) is sitting there, unmoving, trapped. Meanwhile, us, as the darkness (body) moves, going back to the light, to guide them back. This supports my “the light and soul cannot be guided without the darkness of their body” talk- because it IS the body guiding the soul here. It frees us.

TLDR? Skykids aren’t only light- they are also darkness. The light is their soul and the dark is their body. Without a body, lost because of various reasons (the one I gave is being overloaded/corrupted by light), the soul is trapped and we see this ingame as Winged Light. This creates a delicate balance where there can’t be too much light or too much dark in the soul and body. When you are corrupted by darkness, the soul gets trapped but it is still there. A normal death for a sky kid is when no crystals grow on their body. Eden statues are helped with WL because the overloaded darkness and the overloaded light balance each other out.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk, hope it lived up to your expectations.

[fromfiction]

hii!

idk if you knew this, but "soulbond" and "plural identity" are vv harmful terms

:( theyre pro endo (endogenic, aka a "system" without trauma) and endos scientifically cant exist. /info

basically, systems like ourself stem from childhood trauma. before the ages of 9-12, your brain is physically unable to create a solid identity. normally, by that age, what we call "facets" or "fragments" of identity will either:

- fuse together, creative your identity (which is ever-changing but now has a "root"); or

- disappear for any reason

but when someone goes through extreme trauma before that age, those facets are unable to develop properly and instead become identities. this results in DID/OSDD/USD, which are the only ways plurality can exist.

soulbonding is (and correct me if im wrong) the practice of creating a spiritual connection with someone or something, or bringing their soul/spirit into your body. this is similar to introjecting (having an alter form based on a real person, fictional character, etc.) but alters cannot be made intentionally as they form at the brain's subconscious and not the conscious. therefore, it isn't possible and soulbonding is purely misinformation.

likewise, "plural identity" is equally harmful if not even more so because it implies that one can just "identify" as a system or as having fragmented identity, which in turn mutes the people like me whove been through horrible things and had to suffer for it our whole life. if plurality was an identity, then 100% of real systems would identify as singlet because it really isnt fun.

please remove those from your blog... /nm /lh

I am begging you to at least think about what you're doing and saying when you come to a person and ask them to negate and deny their entire personhood and entire lived existence to make you comfortable and to conform to your worldview.

This is what you are doing when you come to a spiritual plural or a spiritual fictionkin and say "stop using those words, because I don't believe in those things".

When you say "DID/OSDD/USD, are the only ways plurality can exist" to someone who has lived the past 30 years of their life as a spiritual plural system you are saying "you don't exist, and I want you to deny your own existence for my comfort."

You are literally coming to me and telling me my soul doesn't exist.

You don't think that's a fucked up thing to say to someone, even if you believe it?

[themasterofo]

To My Readers

Please bear with me while I take a somewhat more serious tone today. I've been wanting to write something like this for a while now, and finally got to putting my thoughts down.

I have always kept an eye on you readers who like and reblog my stories, and it has not gone unnoticed that, in addition to girls who more-or-less match the submissive female character I write, many of my readers are lesbian, or trans, or even sub men. Some of you I've chatted with in the past, even to the point of giving permission to rewrite my stories, altering some preferred biology and/or gender details.

I dislike virtue signaling for its own sake. I find a lot of it distasteful and self-serving, but I also know that statements of support can mean a lot to people who may not be sure that they are welcome. So it's in that spirit that I did decide to write this.

Assuming you are an adult, and that you are not a predator, you are welcome here.

Whether Dom(me) or sub, whether male, female, or anything else, and whatever genitals or body you were born with or have managed to make for yourself, you are welcome here.

I write about denial from my particular perspective, which includes my own sexuality, orientation, and gender. In my mind, the man in my stories is me, and the girl is an afab girl. Because of this, you'll hear talk about his cock, her cunt, and things like this. But, if that doesn't match you, and you still want to read, and if you identify with any part of my writing, you have my absolute blessing to take whatever liberties you wish in your own mind. Not that you needed my permission, but maybe for some it might help.

To be clear, for my own part, I'm not really interested in interacting sexually with sub men, or with girls who don't match the physical type of person that I'm attracted to (girls with a cunt). I don't mean any offense here and I hope that none is taken. For me, life is too short to do anything other than follow what makes you feel authentically happy, and that's part of what does. But it costs me nothing to accept the gender or sexuality that someone identifies with themselves, and I consider it a matter of kindness and decency to do so.

But I am also happy to chat with anyone in about denial and so forth, as long as there is respect and if I have the time (the latter being a larger issue these days!)

So in summary, welcome. If you're a sub, I hope you find inspiration here, and I hope you can learn to edge more and cum less, if you agree with me that this is what's probably best for you. If you're a Dom(me), I hope you enjoy the stories and maybe get some inspiration and ideas to take responsibly to the sub(s) in your life. I tell sub girls they don't have my permission to cum when reading my blog, but if that doesn't resonate with you - you do you. And if you want to imagine that my Dom character is a woman, or that the sub character has a cock, or whatever else will make bring you some happiness, just do it.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

V The Ghost in the Manor

Dick Grayson V Gotham - Chapter 4

Danny was not lost. He was… momentarily disposed. 

It certainly wasn’t his fault. All the halls looked the same, with walls covered in paintings and a red runner down each hallway. At least he knew he was on the second floor–peeking out a window showed a garden that he did not see from the entrance, so maybe he was in the back of the house? 

Reasonably, he could probably yell for help. He’d only run off ten minutes ago, and there had to be someone around to hear him. Even if it was only the ghost. 

But considering he’d been tracking the ghost with no sign of them yet, he didn’t think that likely. 

He wasn’t sure about it at first. There’d been no trace of a haunting when he arrived, but the sensation of a ghost–a tickle in the back of his throat, like a cough that refused to come–got stronger and stronger as breakfast concluded. It wasn’t attached to the building. Even as weak as Danny was, he’d still be able to sense a proper haunt, so that meant there was a free-roaming spirit loose in the building. And it felt a lot stronger than a Shade. 

Danny cracked open a door to see another library. In his search, he’d moved past the bedroom area and onto the business-related rooms. There had been multiple libraries, and earlier he’d found a room with multiple computer monitors on desks covered in snack residue; Tim’s room, he presumed, and didn’t touch it. But as he looked further into the manor, the stronger the ghost felt. He was getting close. 

He wished they’d just show themselves. He wanted to go back to working on Tim’s case. 

At the end of the hallway he found a grand study. Danny wrinkled his nose. All dark hardwood and beige, the room was centered around the giant desk facing towards the door, a computer chair tucked underneath with a window behind it. At least there was a computer on the desk, with a sleek and modern monitor. 

Passing the grandfather clock, Danny hoisted himself up into the chair when suddenly, a cold puff of air escaped his mouth and a voice behind him said, “Wow, burglars are getting smaller and smaller every year.”

Danny swiveled the chair around. Leaning against the window was the ghost, far more colorful and substantial than any of the Shades or Wraiths he’d gotten used to seeing. Her skin was a light blue with black freckles and her hair was a firey purple that flowed out from under her hood. She was wearing a superhero outfit–jumpsuit, utility belt, boots, cape, and hood–comprised of white, ectoplasm green, and hints of yellow, with a white neck gaiter over her mouth and throat, and a green bat over her heart. Her eyes glowed bright yellow. 

She was a hero. She was a Phantom. She was a ghost hero.

Danny wanted to be sick. 

“You can see me,” she realized. She crouched down in front of him, their gaze never breaking. “You can see me.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Danny spat, tramping down his own instinctive urge to cry. Stupid, worthless baby body, this was not the time! “Why don’t you take your sterling silver deduction and shove it up your ass.”

She reared back. “Whoa, kid, you kiss your mom with that mouth?”

“Ain’t interested in necrophilia, hoe-bag, sorry you can’t get your rocks off.” He swiveled back around. He didn’t want to look at the dead teenager. It hit too close to home.

Laughing, Danny felt her drape herself across the back of his chair. “Holy shit, kid. Bruce really keeps adopting them crazier and crazier.”

“Who the fuck said I was that bastard’s kid?” Danny wiggled the computer mouse and the monitor immediately woke up to the home screen. “He doesn’t even have a password,” Danny said, shocked. 

The hero peeked over his shoulder. “If you’re not Bruce’s kid, then you’re a thief. And Brucie probably didn’t think he needed to defend against corporate espionage in his own home, little baby thief. He’s not too bright.”

“I’m not a thief,” he grumbled as he clicked on Bing. There were no other search engines on the computer, not even Google. That, more than anything, is what convinced Danny that Bruce Wayne was secretly a monster. “I’m just living here for a few weeks, that’s all.”

He typed “Bruce Wayne Wikipedia” into the search bar and started reading. 

“So you are Brucie’s kid!” The ghost concluded, snapping her fingers. “Or his ward, at least. Come on, squirt, there’s no reason to lie to your pal, Spoiler–”

“Not his kid,” Danny hissed, his voice warbling and resonating with the ectoplasm of the room. Wayne had a wiki page a mile long. The majority of it was compiled under the label Scandels. “Dick’s”

She laughed. “You’re Dick’s kid!? God, out of all B’s kids to inherit his adoption thingy, I didn’t expect Dick of all people.” 

Danny looked up from the computer. He’d only just gotten to Wayne’s Guardianship over Dick. “You say that like he’s got more than two.” Dick and Tim. “Does he have more?”

Spoiler shook her head, chuckling. “You haven’t met Bruce’s daughter yet, have you? And then there’s all the kids he hasn’t adopted. Wayne loves kids.”

 “...In a weird way, or…?”

“Normal way! He loves kids the normal way!” She laughed again. “Geeze, kid, you’re a riot. What’s your deal, anyway? You a medium?”

“Something like that. I work as one, at least.” He said with a shrug. “Why are you hanging around the Waynes? Were you investigating him when you died?”

“Nah, just doing my regular patrols. Nothing else I can really do. Ghost on ghost crime is at an all-time low.” She sighed. “The name’s Spoiler, by the way.”

“You can call me Danny.” He stopped reading for a second before turning the chair around so he could look at her. “Is there anything I can help you with? Unfinished business, arresting your murderer, messages to loved ones?”

“Is that what you normally do as a medium?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I fake seances to scam stupid people out of their money. Not everyone comes back as a ghost, but a lot of people feel entitled to the dead’s time, and I still need to eat.” 

“And you just automatically assumed I was murdered just because I’m a ghost? I’m mean, you’re right, but I’m pretty sure that’s stereotyping, punk.” She leaned back against the window, crossing her arms. 

“I’m sorry. I’d assumed that because you’re a hero, not because you’re a ghost. You don’t have to tell me anything more about your death; I know how much that hurts.”

Spoiler studied him for a moment. “You’re a good kid. Dick got lucky with that.”

Danny opened his mouth to respond, but his ears pricked. Someone was walking down the hall. Danny quickly closed out of the wiki page and searched for “ice cream near me.”

Dick poked his head in. “There you are! I was worried you’d squireled yourself away in… somewhere you weren’t supposed to go.” Danny cocked his eyebrow, and Dick rubbed the back of his neck. “Bruce has some… adult things lying around that I don’t want you to get an eyeful of.”

How incredibly suspicious. Dick was clearly protecting Wayne out of love for him. In a deadpan voice, Danny said, “you don’t have to worry; I already found Wayne’s sex dungeon.”

An incredulous laugh escaped Dick as Spoiler howled with laughter. Danny did his best to tune her out as Dick walked around to his side of the desk. He rustled Danny’s hair. “You really intend to make me get you ice cream? After all those reporters this morning? You’re cruel, kiddo.”

Danny shrugged. “We can go in disguise. And Tim’s coming with us, so while they’ll be looking for a group of two, we’ll be a group of three.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “He is? I don’t recall inviting Tim.”

“Tim’s lonely.” Smart or not, Tim still willingly spent over an hour voluntarily hanging out with an 8-year-old. Danny couldn’t imagine doing the same when he was Tim’s age. “You really so cheap that you can’t treat your brother to some ice cream?”

“Cold-blooded,” Spoiler scolded, unheard by Dick but unwilling to be left out of the conversation. “Honestly, Dick, I am ashamed.” 

“So ashamed,” Danny agreed. Dick shot him a confused look. “Tim would cry if he heard you say that. Do you want Tim to cry?”

“I think he wants Tim to cry!” Spoiler gasped. 

“Stop!” Dick held up his hand. “Danny. Is there a ghost in the room?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

“It’s ‘weather man-’ You know what? It’s not worth arguing. Danny, I thought we had a deal; you need to tell me whenever there’s a ghost in a room, understand?” Danny scoffed. Dick pressed on, “Do you understand?”

“It’s a stupid rule.”

“It’s an important rule,” Dick countered. “I can’t protect you from ghosts, and they can hurt you, Danny. Not every ghost is a good person.”

Danny rubbed a scar on his arm, a souvenir from a particularly nasty poltergeist he’d tried to deal with on his own. Dick had a matching scar on his back from stray glass; he’d found Danny in the middle of the storm and dragged him to safety. Then gave him a two hour lecture about handling things on his own and that Danny was only a child while Dick had years of experience and blah, blah, blah. Danny refused to admit that Dick had a point–he was 18 in mind, if not body, and he’d dealt with infinitely more dangerous ghosts than one barely material poltergeist. Just because he didn’t have most of his powers didn’t mean he was useless! 

“...There’s a ghost,” Danny admitted. “But she’s just passing through; this isn’t even her haunt.” 

“And does she need help?”

Danny looked at Spoiler. His offer from before had never been answered. She shook her head, looking genuinely regretful. “I’m good for now, kid. My murderer is way above your paygrade, and the Bats are already gunning for him.”

“She’s fine, just chilling. Can we go get ice cream now?”

“It’s still–” Dick checked his phone– “9:30 in the morning, kiddo. We’ll go after lunch though. Now!” He clapped his hands together. “I came up here to get you. The detectives finally got to Mrs. Bennett’s apartment and we set up a video call for you to consult with them.” 

“Really!?” Jumping up from the chair, Danny rushed to the door, almost falling flat on his face. “What are we waiting for!? Her son-in-law is going to get away with it if we don’t hurry! Come on, Dick!”

“Wait! Danny, you don’t know where you’re going, come back!”

“Then come on!”

@starlightcat04 @maeashryver @widderwise @darkstarsapocalypse @sisma @luminanightfall @storm-fire98 @amyheart19 @collectingthegoods @redhoneysugarorange @lordfirecat2004 @screechingnoises @meira-3919 @dannyphannypack @satisfactionbroughtmeback @rowanaway-fromthisbs @i-always-say-yea @avelnfear @some-rotten-nest @ark12 @heirxofxtime @akikkobara @blep-23 @skulld3mort-1fan @markus209 @stargirl1331 @onlyhereforthechaos @inth3world @awkwardmaiden @fantasticbluebirdfan @currant-owo @alice-hazelwood @screamingtofillthevoid @crystalqueertea @gaelicholiday @gmkelz11 @mattybook1987-blog @bytheoldwillowtree @apointlessbox @chemical-pepis @ghostface3100 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @bathildaburp @boo-ghosties @bubblemixer @halfalix @lyra689 @dragon-dancer16 @lunadoll36 @mimilikey @hellomygay @frogs-are-pretty-awesom @overtherose @cyrwrites @your-emo-nightmare @lexdamo @roman4517 @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @raginblastocyst @thegatorsgoose @fisticuffsatapplebees @olivethetreebitch @vixen-uchiha @ae-vixrose @joseph557 @kisatamao @gin2212 @thewondersoflebanon @d4ydr34min9 @malice-of-the-sunrise @tiblii @that-awkward-fae-nerd @aph-mable @dolfay @ghostreblogging @wackyattack @writer-extraordinaire @boo-ghosties @coruscateselene @emergentpanda-blog

[alexanderwales]

I'm going through a profound period of writer's block, except I've always maintained that writer's block is really like seven different things.

Right now it's just ... aversion. I sit down to write and immediately want to be doing something else. I write a hundred words and it's fine, I'm having ideas and things, I know what comes next, but I finish those hundred words and it's like my brain is so ready to be doing something else. The writing is, in my opinion, not suffering from this, except that the output has been pitiful. The flow state is particularly elusive.

My all-time best day for writing was 16K words. That's like ... three chapters in a single day, maybe four if they're on the shorter side for my chapters. I was going unsustainably fast, fingers flying, neglecting my family, neglecting my body, really in the zone. That's not something I can replicate, but I remember the feeling, and it's so close. It doesn't feel like that me was a world away.

I think I would like to figure out the cause of the aversion. It's coming after a period of deep depression, maybe the worst I've had in twenty years, and maybe that came from anxiety of some kind, but not being able to write at the level of output I want is definitely not helping with the anxiety I've been feeling, so I don't know.

My plans for my next web serial, the one after Thresholder, are premised on being able to reliably write and edit 10K words a week, all killer no filler, as little wasted words as possible, new and interesting things around every corner, stellar fight scenes, meaty character interactions, but I'm feeling like a floppy baby, unable to hold up my own head, and if I can't maintain that pace ... I don't know. I can only scale back, and obviously if you want to make money writing for people on the internet, scaling back runs contrary to that goal.

I would feel better if I had what felt like a good path forward in terms of the writing muscle, if there were some life hack that would work for me. I think I'm at the point of wanting to try sprints again, which have historically been good for me but also a great way to burn out. I don't know how you get over an aversion to something you actually enjoy doing, but I'm not really a stranger to aversions. Usually I just buckle down and get it done, which I don't think is going to work if that feeling of aversion is with me for one of the primary things that I do.

This is mostly a gripe rather than me seeking solutions. I think this is probably a personal thing for which the solutions you might want to offer in the spirit of helpfulness would not actually work. Mostly, if you read my stuff, I want you to know where I'm at right now.

[defira85]

Chloe update (it's not grim, it's just not entirely happy)

She's doing okayish

She's struggling to walk at the moment. This all started back in the first week of August when we noticed her walking strangely, and she went downhill fast initially with not eating and not sleeping. Then we found the eye infection and we thought, great, that's probably the problem! It's affecting her balance which probably accounts for the funny walk, and an infection means her body is out of whack which explained the not eating and the not sleeping, so she had surgery and lost the eye

She was recovering okay, she's an old lady after all so she wasn't going to bounce back immediately. Sleeping better and eating better, and she started to gain weight back

But then she was clearly still limping, and she started not wanting to put weight on the back right foot at all. Didn't react with pain, didn't flinch or recoil or bite or try to get us to stop prodding and stretching it. Still reacts to stimulus so it's not paralysed. The limp got more pronounced

Then Barney died

She stopped using the leg altogether, she tries to keep it tucked up under her belly all the time. She stopped eating again, the vet said grief response to missing Barney. She stopped pooping, we thought maybe it was all the pain medications cause god knows that happens to me when I'm having bad pain flares

Yesterday she couldn't use the other back leg either. Couldn't stand up, she fell out of her little bed and onto her back and she just lay there like a turtle with her limbs flailing in the air, couldn't get back onto her tummy

The vet got her to poop yesterday, and she was ravenous for dinner AND snacks AND breakfast. She's struggling to use the leg today but she's trying! She's very clearly got energy and she's also very clearly frustrated and angry that she can't mobilise. She wants to walk around! She doesn't want to lie down and wait for death!

But I don't know if I'm just being selfish with her. Yesterday we went to the vet with the full expectation that the vet would look at us and say "I'm really sorry, but there's nothing else we can do. It's time" and so leaving with her in my arms still alive threw my emotional balance right out of whack. I'd spent the drive prepping myself for the conversation. I burst into tears the moment the vet took us into the room.

I don't know what I'm doing! I don't know if, maybe if Barney hadn't left us so abruptly and so painfully, maybe it would've been a different conversation! But I don't know how to cope with the idea of losing both of them so I don't know. I don't know if I'm being selfish. I look at her and I see my little fighter, who never backed down from anything bigger than her, and I see her spirit fighting. Barney was so quiet at the end. I can't believe the vets would send me on a wild goose chase to other specialists if they didn't think it was worth it and it was just prolonging her misery

Anyway. She's got an abdominal scan next Wednesday. If she's safe after that for more extensive sedation we might consider leg and spine x-rays but even if we find something causing her limp, she probably can't handle another extensive surgery. And what would that surgery get her? Another six months of life? Would that be worth it if she's in pain from recovery the whole time? She's so skinny from all the weight she's lost, I can feel her spine and her hips and I hate it

This got long. I'm sorry if you read this far, I needed to get it out and I can't say any of it out loud without immediately bursting into tears

[violettwrites]

in the arms of the broken — daryl dixon

a/n: to the dear nonnie that requested this 🫶🏻 thank u sm i absolutely adored writing this (i rly should be sleeping but i can’t so here i am) i hope you enjoy !!

if you enjoyed reading this, please support me by giving me a like, reblog, and/or comment ! don’t forget to follow me either if you want to read more of my stuff !

request: anon said — “i also like the dialogue prompt ‘i don’t know… i’ve never seen her like this’ that tugs at the heart strings”

summary: reader cannot cope with the way the world has become, during a particularly hard night for themselves, daryl dixon is the one to comfort them.

warnings: angst/sadness ,,, thats it rly

word count: 1,241

recourses: divider by @adornedwithlight

➵ tp!daryl masterlist

➵ regular masterlist

here is my ask box !

the night was quiet except for the crackle of the fire, but it felt wrong—like the world had gone still, holding its breath. you sat by the flames, knees drawn to your chest, staring blankly into the flickering light. the heat touched your skin, but it didn’t reach you, didn’t chase away the cold that had settled deep inside.

daryl watched you from a distance, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest. he’d been keeping an eye on you for days, noticing the way you’d been pulling away from everyone, isolating yourself. you’d always been strong, always held it together for the sake of the group, but something was different now. something had changed, and it scared him. you were like a shadow of yourself, your spirit drained, your eyes distant.

rick approached him, eyes flicking over to you before meeting daryl’s. “how’s she holdin’ up?”

daryl didn’t answer right away, his jaw tightening as he watched the way you sat so still, your body hunched like the weight of everything had finally become too much to carry. he shook his head, his voice quiet and rough. “i don’t know… i’ve never seen her like this.”

rick nodded, his expression grim. “she’s been through a lot. more than most of us. maybe she just needs some time.”

rick can recall the first time they found you, smack bang in the middle of atlanta, all alone. you were covered in blood and guts, and if he hadn’t actually heard how you begged for help when he saw you, your voice barely audible, he honestly would have thought you were just another walker.

“time ain’t gonna fix what’s broken,” daryl muttered under his breath, the frustration simmering beneath his skin. time wasn’t enough when you were drowning, when you couldn’t see a way out of the darkness. and he hated that he didn’t know how to pull you out.

rick gave him a look, one that said everything he didn’t need to say out loud. “you’re the one she’ll listen to, daryl. talk to her.”

daryl stood there a moment longer, watching the way you curled into yourself, like you were trying to disappear. every instinct in him told him to go to you, but he hesitated, unsure if his words would even matter. still, he couldn’t just leave you like this.

he finally pushed off the tree and walked over, his boots crunching softly against the dirt. he lowered himself to the ground beside you, sitting close enough that you could feel his presence, but not so close that he’d crowd you.

for a while, neither of you said anything. the fire crackled between you, the only sound breaking the silence of the night. daryl wasn’t sure how to start, wasn’t good with words even on the best of days. but he knew you, and he knew the way you got when things started to spiral out of control in your head.

“you don’t gotta shut us out, y’know,” he finally said, his voice gruff but soft. “we’re all here for ya.”

you didn’t respond at first, your eyes still fixed on the flames like they held some kind of answer you were searching for. after a long moment, you sighed, your voice barely a whisper. “i’m tired, daryl.”

those words hit him like a punch to the gut. he’d seen people break before, seen the way this world could wear someone down until there was nothing left. but hearing you say it, seeing you like this—it scared him more than he wanted to admit.

“i know,” he said quietly. “we all are. but we’re still fightin’. you’re still fightin’.”

you shook your head, your voice trembling as you spoke. “i don’t know if i can anymore. every day feels like it’s getting harder. like… like i’m losing pieces of myself.”

daryl’s chest tightened. he’d always admired your strength, the way you kept going no matter how hard things got. but now, hearing you say you were falling apart—it made him realize just how much he hadn’t noticed.

“you ain’t losin’ yourself,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “you’re still here. we’re still here.”

you swallowed hard, tears brimming in your eyes. “i feel like i’m drowning. like no matter what i do, it’s never enough. i can’t save everyone, daryl.”

that was it, wasn’t it? the burden you carried, the weight of trying to protect everyone, to hold the group together when everything was falling apart. it was breaking you.

daryl shifted closer, his hand reaching out to rest on your arm, hesitant at first, but firm once it was there. “you don’t gotta save everyone. that ain’t on you.”

your voice cracked as you spoke, the tears spilling over now. “but if i don’t… who will?”

daryl’s heart clenched at the raw pain in your voice. he wished he had the right words, wished he could take that weight off your shoulders. but he knew he couldn’t fix everything. what he could do, though, was remind you that you weren’t alone.

“you don’t have to,” he said, his thumb gently brushing your arm in a way that was more comforting than he realized. “we’re all in this together. you ain’t gotta carry the world by yourself.”

you turned to look at him, and the vulnerability in your eyes nearly broke him. he wasn’t used to seeing you like this, so lost and fragile. he hated it. he hated that you felt like you had to carry the world alone, that you felt like you were drowning.

“i don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “everything feels so heavy.”

daryl swallowed hard, his own heart aching at how much pain you were in. he didn’t know how to take that pain away, but he could be there for you. he could be the one thing you could hold on to when everything else felt like it was slipping away.

“you ain’t alone,” he said, his voice low but steady. “you got me. no matter what, you got me.”

you looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe just a little easier. his words were simple, but they grounded you. daryl had always been your anchor, and in this moment, you needed him more than ever.

without thinking, you leaned into him, your forehead resting against his shoulder as the tears came harder, your body shaking with the force of them. daryl didn’t hesitate. he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back.

“let it out,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “it’s okay. i got ya.”

and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself fall apart. you let the tears come, let the pain you’d been holding in for so long spill out. daryl didn’t say anything more, didn’t need to. he just held you, his presence steady and unwavering, letting you know without words that you didn’t have to carry this burden alone.

the fire crackled softly beside you, but the world felt a little less cold with daryl holding you. you weren’t okay. you weren’t sure when—or if—you’d ever be okay again. but for now, in his arms, you felt like you didn’t have to be.

and maybe that was enough.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hi! Idk if you’ve already spoke about this so sorry if you have but do you think that Harry can still speak parsletongue after he’s no longer a horcrux? And do you have any hcs about if theres any changes before vs after he’s no longer a horcrux?

Hi 👋,

Like, in canon, I don't recall it ever being mentioned in the books. But JKR did state in an interview he lost the ability to speak Parseltongue:

Nigel: Can harry speak parseltongue when he is no longer a horcrux? J.K. Rowling: No, he loses the ability, and is very glad to do so.

(Source)

The books don't really mention it, but they intend you to understand it as Harry not being able to speak Parseltongue anymore.

Personally, I like to headcanon he still can. Since it isn't book canon, but stated in an interview, it's pretty loose in canonicity.

Like, my headcanon regarding Harry's Parseltongue is that he wouldn't have been able to speak it if he didn't have a latent gene for it. Like, if a random wizard that had no recent enough Gaunts in their family tree to have the potential to be Parselmouths, became Voldemort’s Horcrux they wouldn't be Parselmouths. Like, I headcanon Lily's maternal grandma was a squib from the Gaunt family, and that's why Harry had a dormant Parseltongue gene that was just activated by becoming a Horcrux. So, he'd keep the ability after the Horcrux is no longer there since it just triggered a gene that was already there. I already talked about how most muggleborns are likely descendants of more recent squibs, so it's not only possible Lily has relatively recent magical ancestry, but likely (also, she has Slytherin green eyes, and was the one to really kill the Heir of Slytherin the first time, let her be a Gaunt).

I think Harry would feel weird after the Horcrux is no longer there. Lighter than he ever felt before. He'd think it's because the war is over and there aren't dark lords or Durlseys to mess with his life, but it isn't. His life likely is still quite stressful while rebuilding the wizarding world, and I think, he'd realize eventually the horcrux left him a little emptier. I think the moment he buries Voldemort and his wand would be the moment he realizes how much he feels the lack of the Horcrux.

I mean, imagine you have a certain amount of soul in you your entire life. Your body, your mind, your spirit, your own soul and magic, the very essence that is you, has recognized another as part of itself, got used to having more soul between your ribs than just your own. and then, in practically a blink of an eye, it's gone. I can't imagine you won't feel it. Like a phantom limb.

I don't think Harry's personality changes much after the Horcrux is removed. Like, I don't think his magic or the alliance of his wand would be affected by that. I think he'd be fine on that front. I think he'd just feel lighter. Emptier. I think his magic would be a bit off balance in the first few months until he got used to the new balance of his body and soul. And he'd just feel off. Like when you leave your house and you have the feeling you forgot something and you just don't know what — that, but constantly, and about your own soul.

I think the entire journey could be really fun in a fic that uses the loss of the Horcrux as a way to explore Harry's trauma from the war now that it's all over. He feels lighter, the weight he carried all his life is gone, but it leaves him empty and purposeless. That's why I think he would go back to 8th year — back home to find his balance.

[nottskyler]

Dear President Russell M Nelson,

Congratulations on making it to 100. I know it was a significant goal for you and you worked hard both physically and spiritually to make it this far. I know there are a lot of things outside our control to having a long life, but it also takes work.

Thank you for the challenge to read the Book of Mormon before the year was out back in 2018. My life has been irrevocably changed for the better for following that counsel. I learned much about myself and the world and Gd’s plan for me and began a path of repentance that has brought me closer to Christ and brought joy into a life that was characterized by despair before.

And that is simply a personal way that I know you are called of Gd to be our prophet. It is very clear how you were prepared to lead the Church at this time, especially with how your responses to revelation prepared the Church for the pandemic. A pandemic following a change in policy that barred me from sharing the joy that I found by following your counsel. It is sometimes hard to reconcile the exclusionary policy that you have permitted to be put in place under your leadership with my testimony that you are a prophet of Gd because following your counsel led me to Christ and the good things that come from repentance.

It is the same juxtaposition of you having a medical degree and then claiming that life (when the spirit enters the body) begins at conception because a unique genetic code was created. Conception comes before the medical definition of pregnancy which is before the latest point identical twins can be formed. Identical twins are clearly two different spirits with the same genetic code. The truth we learn from science is giving a different truth than the one that you claimed in your press conference on the reversal of roe v wade.

Not to harp on something you said one time not even during General Conference, but I was finally pregnant after years of infertility and it seemed to mock my pain of late periods and failed fertility treatments. I came to the conclusion that you were wrong and speaking your personal opinion and not the thoughts and feelings of Heavenly Father or our Savior Jesus Christ. A conclusion that many would think contradicts my previous statement about believing that you are a prophet of Gd.

But to believe that the prophets can do no wrong is idolatry. To claim that the truth is only what prophets have confirmed first is priestcraft. This is not the Lord’s way who said: “If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.” (John 7:17); “Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.” (Matthew 7:20). Or even Moroni closing his addition to the Book of Mormon “And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.” (Moroni 10:5) and “For behold, my brethren, it is given unto you to judge, that ye may know good from evil; and the way to judge is as plain, that ye may know with a perfect knowledge, as the daylight is from the dark night.” (Moroni 7:15).

Besides, how can we be fit for the Celestial Kingdom if we, as individuals of the Church, are to surrender our agency to you and never learn how to discern truth for ourselves. You set yourself up as the king of the Church when you say you are the only source of truth. Then all the sins of those who follow you without question become stains on your garments.

It is a difficult task to reconcile these types of mistakes with someone upholding a high calling that presumably has direct access to Gd, but then I realized that the traditions of our fathers was what made me ignore Gd telling me to repent much earlier than the 2018 Book of Mormon reading challenge. False traditions drain true intent and curiosity when you ask Gd because you feel confident that you know the answer and so you study with bias to confirm your worldview and you don’t have intent to do anything different if the answer isn’t what you expect. False traditions frame revelation so that you ignore key pieces because your mind fills in the default expectation instead of what actually exists in the revelation. In the end, I’m glad that I’m a nobody who only has to deal with the consequences of my own actions instead of being in your shoes where my same mistakes would’ve cause much more damage and would’ve been much harder to change direction when I learned I was wrong.

So I pray that your mind will be open to look past the false traditions of our fathers, to be open to the testimony of those othered by the Church organization. I pray that you realize that what you are doing is priestcraft so that you will swiftly repent and put effort into making sure you aren’t standing between us and Christ. I pray that you will repent in this life so you can share our joy.

Sincerely,

nottskyler

[demaparbat-hp]

I didn't know Katara also had silver marks on the Kintsugi AU. How did you come up with that idea? Is it an in-universe cultural thing? If it is, is it exactly the same as Zuko's or does the Water Tribe have their own beliefs around it?

Sorry if I'm asking too many questions, I just really love how your mind works when it comes to these AUs 💖

Hello, and thanks for asking!

Initially, Kintsugi was a strictly Fire Nation tradition. Something to hold over the rest of the nations, and deepen their own belief of cultural superiority. Zuko hiding his scars played into that idea, since having gold inlaid in your body is a clear sign of Fire Nation blood—furthermore, High Fire Nation blood.

That being said, one lovely anon gave the suggestion that perhaps the other nations also have their own kinds of Kintsugi, and I fell in love with the idea. @ican-fixitbooks went even deeper into the particular philosophies of each nation regarding Kintsugi. I'll be using some quotes from them—watch for the italics.

It was during said brainstorming session that I thought of Katara having a silver Kintsugi scar, and how could it be used to enhance the themes of ATLA, Katara's arc, and this AU as a whole.

But a little background is necessary, I believe.

Kintsugi is a tradition practiced worldwide, with minor differences in philosophy/technique according to each nation.

The Earth Kingdom seal their scars with a substance that resembles bronze, as the mentality of breaking yourself down to build yourself back up better than you were is very central to their culture. It is used as a way to celebrate one's victories, made all the better if damage was taken to achieve it.

The elite have rather different views on this practice. They believe themselves to be above such things. That which is broken must be hidden away, which has interesting connotations when thinking about a certain blind earthbender.

The Air Nomad philosophy leans towards a naturalist approach. Anything natural doesn't need to be "improved" in their eyes. If a scar is there, it is there. Let it be there as a part of you, no different than any other, no need to be "made better", but in fact better to just "be".

Kintsugi is a cultural practice meant to celebrate making something beautiful out of something broken, arguably even making it better than it was. During Sozin's reign and forward, Kintsugi became a way to show the Fire Nation's superiority. Especially as that is essentially their philosophy for war: "Breaking the rest of the world so it can be reforged in fire, made a better, more perfect place."

As for the Water Tribes, there's the healing factor to take into account. The Northern Water Tribe isolated itself from the rest of the world once the war began, so they hold tight to their traditions and beliefs. If something is not broken, then why attempt to fix it? Kintsugi is scoffed at in the North—it is a foreign practice, one that is not necessary when all your wounds can be healed with bending.

However, the Southern Water Tribe has been exposed to the world. They have seen war. They have lived through it. They have suffered, but they are also free because of it, if only in spirit. The South is strong and proud and bold, so it comes as no surprise that silver Kintsugi becomes the mark of their warriors, their hunters, their people.

Katara was wounded during the last Southern Raid. After losing Kya in such a terrible way, Hakoda made sure to seal Katara's wound with the silver of their warriors, so that she would always remember that despite having been broken, she is still strong, beautiful, and proud.

The scar itself is long and thin, going from her right shoulder up to her jaw. It loosely resembles lightning.

And despite how she got it, despite all the things she lost on that day, despite it being a constant reminder of her mother's death—Katara loves her scar.

It grounds her. It pushes her forward. You are a warrior, it tells her. You are a survivor.

When Katara arrives at the North, her scar becomes yet another thing the Northerners hold against her. They use it to demean her, just as they do her gender and out-spoken personality.

The North believes a lot of things that Katara always considered natural to be a problem. What does it matter that she is a woman? What is wrong about being passionate? Why should having a scar mean she's broken?

This scar is something they cannot touch. The Northerners try to use it to demean her. To make her small. Self-conscious. Worthless.

They're scoffing at her mother's death.

Her strength.

Her beauty.

Her pride.

Her story.

And she will not allow it.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

just came across your Host book post and can I just say THANK YOU so much for your take

for YEARS during the twilight renaissance I've wondered how meyer's mormonism bleeds into the host (at least on the level of twilight, which has been dissected to death) and no one had ever given a proper answer or insight but just reading your post and how it ties into colonialism, missionaries, and the term "souls"

i mean a quick wikipedia search on the mormon afterlife brings up the belief in physical reincarnation, their spirits receiving a "physical bodies of flesh and bone"

even worse when the final "rebirth" body picked for the protagonist is fair, with almost "silvery skin", blonde, and is described as an "angel"

bro you've sent me this ask word for word at least three times are you well

[spidermasc]

🦌 .oO 💌┊in the still of the night

synopsis: early mornings with lottie. repost, gn!reader, drinking blood as protection, fluff but gets heated at the end.

it’s early.

you don’t actually know what time it is but if you had to guess it’d probably be around 6 am. everything feels normal for a second when you open your bleary eyes and stretch, smelling the slight scent of the candles and sage filling the cabin. had you woken up next to lottie in your bedroom, it probably would’ve smelled like your mom making coffee early in the morning before you left for school.

you groan and turn on your side, rubbing the crust off your eyes before you spot lottie’s blurry form by the window. she doesn’t notice you’re awake yet, distracted by watching how the snow falls and humming. you reach over to the side and grab your glasses which are cold to the touch and fogged up from the icy temperatures. wiping them off with your shirt, you clumsily get up and trudge over to lottie, who now hears you and gives you a gentle smile.

“good morning,” she whispers in that sweet voice of hers, taking your hand and sitting you down on her lap. you hum into the touch, and she kisses your neck, trying to warm up her hands by shoving them underneath your shirt.

“‘s cold!” you mumble, arching your back away from her but smiling softly as she holds you still and pulls you back into her. goosebumps fill your skin as she continues to run her nails along your stomach, her hot breath hitting your neck and making you feel even warmer. "did they leave already?" you've been trying to wake up early so you can go along with travis and nat to look for javi, but you never wake up in time. your internal body clock doesn't seem to want to wake you up. maybe next time, you think.

lottie hums and nods, kissing your neck before leaning over and picking up the black cup filled with pinkish-red liquid. she always makes you drink her concoction of boiled water and her blood, serving it as some sort of protection and good luck.

"don't understand why i have to drink this," you pout halfheartedly, getting off her lap and sitting on the windowsill next to her. you bring the cup close to your mouth and stare at the contents inside - no matter how many you've drunk this, you'll always be a little reluctant.

lottie finds herself looking on eagerly as she waits for you to drink it, eyes glimmering and smiling at how your glasses fog up even more because of the steam rising. you hide your grimace at the slightly unpleasant taste as you swallow it down. "isn't dating you and getting to kiss you enough for the forest spirits to like me?" you joke, placing the cup down between you two.

she blushes and her eyes flutter after you drink it, feeling her heart sore in happiness. lottie leans in to wipe your glasses off with the sleeve of her sweater and pulls you into her lap again, glancing down at your lips that still have remnants of the drink, namely her blood, on them. the kiss isn't unexpected but the force with which she slams her lips on yours is, and it has you groaning loudly into her mouth. you open your eyes slightly and try to move your head to the side to see if the girls are still sleeping after your slip-up, but lottie whines and forces you to face her again.

her lips are desperately trying to swallow you whole almost, her hands clutching the back of your jacket tightly. you're both caught up in the feeling of each other that you barely register the sound of the ladder creaking as someone climbs down it, only pulling away when you hear their feet slam into the ground in a hurry. lottie hides her face in your neck as you turn your head to see shauna walking out with an awkward look on her face as she catches you and lottie. you give her an embarrassed smile and watch her waddle out the front door and let out a sigh of relief. you and lottie snort afterward, resting your forehead on hers.

"come back to bed with me?" you whisper, messing with the fur on her coat.

[cindersnows]

i think as viewers we find it easy to sit back and judge each character until their motivations are explained to us in detail like with purple and king and chosen. even with victim its fairly easy to guess a portion of why she is doing this. and that's partially because avam is just made to be like that so all audiences can understand it and why the characters do what they do, and also partially because it's a little difficult to do more subtle storytelling when you can only express character feelings through their body language (and the body language has to be fairly exaggerated so that everyone can understand how the character is feeling).

so then as a result when we see green falling deep into the hole of social media it's easy to scoff and judge and say come on green, do better. we see it as him just getting too cocky again- look at green with his ego and his need to seem cool, he's sucking up to people again so he can get validation. and people understand that, they're even comparing his arc to purple, but they're forgetting to actually see things from his point of view.

like yeah. green was mean to yellow! and that was a kind of assholey thing to do, agreeing with people when they say yellow didn't do much. but like people do stupid shit all the time, especially to get approval. green hearting mean comments wasn't him on his villain arc, he probably barely thought about it. haven't you ever done anything without thinking or made a joke in bad taste. honestly it's a little ironic how quick people were to jump on him when he did something kind of mean, it reminded me of actual cancel culture! fascinating shit. we really are a part of the story.

anyways green started off as the weakest. he tries his best to be good at other things, first building, then music, but for some reason whenever he does well in something his friends get jealous or upset. (he pours himself into that thing and unintentionally ignore s or snaps at his friends--- its a repeating pattern at this point). it's mostly because their competitive spirit, something which is seen in a lighthearted manner but has gotten them killed or hurt on multiple occasions and i feel like they're going to have to address that at some point. whenever green sets boundaries, they're ignored, even if cg think they're just acting in the greater good.

hell, even purple, we've barely seen them interact after s3- who's to say purple wouldn't just scoff at him as well? she's already not very experienced with actual friendships (based on the way they just expected green to brush the betrayal off in parkour, they acted more like it was a small disagreement than a full on issue), so he may just assume this is how friends are.

basically the point of this is to say, no one ever celebrates his success. obviously he's competitive with his friends too, but having been at the bottom of the group from the start, he's visibly very insecure about this stuff, and having people attempt to kick him down during every success he gets (which he works very hard for) will lead to him needing validation from elsewhere. clearly, social media is supposed to give him this.

but like someone in the community pointed out, now he's appealing to hundreds of thousands of people instead of just 5 or 6. the praise is awesome, but seeing that people still have criticism of him just makes him throw himself into his work even more. it also probably functions as a form of escapism for him; he's so busy working, editing, writing, he barely even notices that his friends are avoiding him. it's possible he's purposely using youtube as a way to ignore his gut. anyways, blue's still willing to hang out and record with him, so what's the issue? (it's not as if blue is the least confrontational of the cg lol)

i have. been in this exact position. the moment you make anything, you're looking straight at the numbers. it becomes what you think of in the morning and during the creation process. you're skimming comments for keywords--- good, bad, more, less, etc. you listen even when you don't mean to. yeah maybe the guy was a little mean about one of my friends but ultimately it's just constructive criticism! it's not like she'll see this anyway. it's fine.

and yeah green needs to stop being so obsessive but i think he deserves to break down first. like what ash said--- he expresses his negative emotions the least out of everyone, he barely takes breaks, it's going to come crashing down. and i think when cg confront him about his behaviour he deserves to yell at them for the way he gets treated. it really hurts when all you are is the butt of the joke even when they mean it in a lighthearted way. if the arc just ends with green being knocked down a peg as usual, i will be very fucking upset because he's literally already at the bottom of the ladder, what more do you want?

[princess-of-morkva]

to find you again

Arthur Pendragon was ten years old when his world finally began to make sense.

It was in his fifth grade, when his class went on a week long camping trip. He didn't know, at the time, what compelled him to sneak out of the tent in the wee hours of the morning, when the first rays of dawn lit up the treetops and his legs carried him towards the shore of a lake. It's surface was shimmering in morning light, and he could feel his breath halt, afraid to disturb the serenity of the sight that felt so otherworldly. It may have been some divine compulsion or simply his innate, childish desire to explore that made him go further, then, until his rubber flipflops were left on the shore and his bare feet touched the water.

There was a hand then, that rose out of the water, translucent and not entirely present, an image out of mist. There was a hand, and then another, and then the head and the body — a figure arose from the lake, smiling at the little boy that intruded her realm.

"Hello, Arthur." She spoke, and her voice didn't carry through the air like a human's would, rather, it sang with the wind, hit the ears like tiny drops meeting the water. "It's good to meet you at last."

He stared at her, for a long moment, before answering.

"How do you know me?" He frowned at her. Father told him not to talk to strangers, and this might have been a very pretty woman made out of mist, but she was still very much a stranger. Still, he didn't step out of the lake, for his curiosity was much greater than his father's teachings which felt so far away at the moment, and there was no one around to see anyway.

"The world speaks to me. I can't leave this lake, but I can see far beyond it." Her answer was not an answer at all, Arthur thought. His confusion must've been evident, because she smiled at him again, and there was a mischievous hint in the corner of her lips that made her look not so much like a spirit in a lake but a living and breathing young girl, but the next second it was gone and Arthur was left to wonder if he imagined it entirely.

"Why can't you?" He asked.

"It's were I was put to rest." She spoke the words so evenly, as all of the things she previously said, that it took Arthur a few seconds to catch the meaning of it.

"Does that mean you're dead?" He asked, hoping not to offend her with it.

"Not exactly. I'm here, aren't I?" Once again, her answer gave more questions than it answered.

"There are ghosts." He said. Arthur wasn't sure there were, actually. His father didn't believe in such things.

"I am different from ghosts."

"What are you then?"

"A guardian."

Arthur nodded, as if it made perfect sense. It didn't.

"Do you have a name?" He asked. It was only polite to ask for a person's name when first meeting them. Than again, lake-guardian-spirits could have entirely different etiquette.

"I was called Freya, once." There was a small smile, again.

Arthur nodded musingly.

"It's a pretty name."

She hummed.

"Do you often speak to people?" He never heard of such entities as her. It couldn't have been a common occurrence, surely. But wouldn't that be lonely? Having no one to talk to?

She shook her head, and there was a wistful look in her eyes.

"I haven't spoken to anybody in centuries." That couldn't have been nice, Arthur thinks. If she could speak to him, why didn't she speak to others?

"Why'd you speak to me than?" Freya didn't answer immediately, pausing the flow of their measured back-and-forth. It almost looked like she was unsure, but her features were still so calm, it was impossible to tell.

Then, she asked. "Do you have dreams, sometimes?"

It was a silly question. Everybody had dreams. Arthur understood immediately though, it wasn't the regular kind of dreams she was talking about.

Because the thing is, Arthur did have dreams. Ever since he was little. He remembers dreaming of white towers and battlements, of bright red banners and capes. Of metal clanging and laughter and a weight of a sword in his hand, on his hip. Of familiar faces he could never quite place. Of raven curls and bright blue eyes, especially often.

He never told his father about them — he'd call such things foolish. Arthur didn't think they were.

Arthur looked at Freya and nodded. There was a glim of relief in her eyes, he thought.

"Would you like to see more?" She asked, offering him her hand. Not solid in any common way of the world but in that moment, more real than any other thing around them.

Arthur didn't think twice before grasping it.

-----

please tell me if you'd like to see more of it because i love the thing in my head so far

where is merlin in it? he's gonna be there. with a twist. it's a reincarnation fic but with a twist. it's also very merthur. or as much as it can ever get with my aromantic ass.

also it's modern au but i still haven't decided on a more specific setting- should i do college au? i'd be horrible at it even though it would make sense thematically- i haven't been outside in years how does society function? how do i write it?

can you see i love freya? i love her very much

[bloomingdead]

Thank you for a answering my question! I saw the default male lavellan inquisitor in a video from a channel called "GameRiot". He made a video showing the character creation and there he shows the default female lavellan and you can see a few default presets for them and the masc lavellan shown there didn't have vallaslin either. (It's around the 25:24 minute mark)

The video also confirmed that it looks like the inquistor can only be male or female (without the option to be non binary).

I always saw solas as bi because to me he falls in love with lavellan spirit not body so when people started saying he was the default romance in veilguard I was curious if they removed the gender restriction for his romance.

Thank you again for the answer! Sorry for my bad english and for disturbing you.

Hey I love answering questions as much as the next guy who likes to feel smart!! Your english is way better than you think, I couldn’t tell that it’s not your first language ❤️

So I totally checked it out and am amazed. Male Lavellan’s default appearance is also no vallaslin. Who did that?!?!? I’m so excited for what this can mean.

Since you can’t retroactively make your inquisitor NB, I wonder if this means they’re going to imply an un-solasmanced Lavellan found a way to remove the tattoos without his help..?

If we can’t retroactively make our inquisitor NB, I’ll also assume for now that you cannot retroactively change the inquisitor’s gender if they romanced someone that has a gender preference. It makes sense since the characters hace their own identity separate the inquisitor. Like it’d be kinda fucked up to make a romanced!Sera’s inky a man since she’s openly a lesbian, which is rare for any piece of media let alone a videogame. It would stand to reason the same would go for the heterosexual romance options.

It would be kinda sweet for an un-romanced Solas to see a Lavellan without the tats and be a lil jealous that he wasn’t the one to remove them. Or he could just be glad the inquisitor was able to see their gods for what they are, or smug that the murals and propaganda from Trespasser that he created to spark a rebellion thousands of years ago work on the people, or his favorite person, of modern day Thedas.

I’m so excited to actually get my hands on this game, I’m gonna explode. I am a total nerd when it comes to the elven lore of this series, and how it affects different aspects of the Dragon Age Setting. Ever since I first played the Solas romance, and heard his true explanation of the vallaslin, I’ve wanted to see that information reach more people than a romanced Inquisitor Lavellan. Looks like this may be a sign of exactly that. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, I truly appreciate it!!