#I can open my heart and say that I needed them both

[hotrod-and-ride]

Rest, my love- you have enough time

Optimus doesn't know how to take it easy, so you show him how.

TFP!Optimus x Human!Reader fluff A/N: This was originally a self-insert thingy I made for my own pleasures but then I thought of sharing it with everyone else as a reader insert cause why not :DD enjoy!

"Optimus, have you seen my-"

You stop halfway into the room., tail flicking at the sight in front of you as the doors hissed open. Despite the uneventful days, Optimus had made himself occupied with work, slouched on his desk with data pads scattered on its surface. While it wasn't an unusual scene, he had been at his desk since you had left your shared berthroom earlier in the day. It was now late afternoon, the sun about to set.

Optimus hadn't heard you, too ingrained in his task. He's tense, by the way his chest plates seem to be pressing into itself with the way his shoulders were compressed. Even from afar, your ears could hear the cooling fans in his vents work themselves despite not overheating.

Whatever it was you were going to ask him for was completely set aside, the hybrids focus now onto your working lover.

"Oh darling," you sigh, eyes softening. You walk over to his side, pronouncing each step loud enough telling him you’re here. You make an effort to climb him (and even then, barely takes notice of you). You put a soft hand on his left shoulder and another one by the back of his neck cables. Your touch is soft, thumb rubbing back and forth against his plating. Optimus eases into the touch. You place a kiss on the side of his face. 

"Have you been here all day at your desk? This isn't good for you." You ask, concerned. "Things have been idle lately, you shouldn't be working yourself over this much."

Optimus leans back back with an ex-vent from his intake. "That is exactly the problem. Megatron and his disciples' lack of activity raises suspicions of his actions. I'm afraid if I do ignore this idleness, the Deceptions may make a move further into their plans." 

Optimus' admission of his thoughts both makes your heart ache and frustrated. For a mecha who's been alive for millennia, he sure does not know the signs of when to step back and take certain things as blessings.

You sigh. Men-like mecha and their stubbornness when it comes to leadership can be disheartening.

Despite the struggle, you make your way down onto the desk, minding the data pads on the desk- and firmly grabs hold of his face close by the sides of his helm. His optics widen slightly and whir at the sudden grip on his helm.

"Beloved," you start, staring back into his optics with fond annoyance and love, "I know being a leader means being vigilant of your responsibilities and your duties with the best of your capabilities. But sometimes, you have to take a deep breath and step back, and realize when too much is too much." At this, Optimus puts his servos gently over her hands, about to reply, but you don’t give him a chance. 

"Give yourself some credit and listen to your body- I can tell you're tired enough as it is. You've acted when you need to, and now it is time for you to rest. You've been given the clearest signs to take a break and you refuse to do so. So I'm asking you to please, stop slaving over your desk or so help me God I will drag you by the finials over to our berth." You say the last phrase with a breathy laugh, stroking your thumbs over his face plate with earnestness. He leans in to the touch, and you can't help but be reminded of a cat nuzzling itself into its owner. Optimus gently holds your hands with his servos, putting them closer to his derma to plant kisses over them.

"I suppose, if my sweetspark wishes for me to rest, then I shall," Optimus says. You beam at the compliance.

"But only if she does so with me." 

A smile grows on his derma, as does on your lips. You lift yourself on the tip of your toes, bumping your forehead against his, before kissing him there.

You chuckle, "Of course, my love, I gladly will." 

You hold him by a digit, asking him to follow you to the berth. He stands so,holding out a servo for you to stand on as he takes two steps towards the berth and lowers you down. Optimus sits by the edge, and waits for whatever you has planned. 

He watches in amusement as you arrange the multitude of pillows and blankets you’ve managed to collected on his berth, your brows furrowed in concentration and little noncommital sounds that escape from your breath. It never ceases to amaze him just how expressive humans can be. Once you nod to yourself you look back up at him, a pleased smile at your own work.

“Get smaller so I cuddle you, Oppy.” You make grabby hands at him and whine, fangs glinting in the light.

Optimus only laughs at your neediness and in a blink, he's only 5 feet taller than you, but still big in size. He carries you by the back of your thighs, while you cling to him with arms around his neck, into his chassis.

“Needy little thing,” Optimus teases, “This was your plan all along, wasn't it?” One of his servos glides across her back up and down, a soothing gesture.

“Maybe,” you confess, hiding a grin forming on your lips. "I miss spending time with you."

Optimus falters, for a moment, a feeling of guilt rising at the back of his vocalizer. His optical ridges furrow. He hadn't meant to neglect his sparkmate of his time. 

He lays you down on the berth, right next to him in the nest of pillows and blankets. He brings you in close for a hug, kissing you long and tender on your lips.

"I did not mean to forget you, sweetspark, nor neglect your needs," the sorry in his voice is palpably obvious.

"It's okay, Op, I understand, and I accept your apology," you give him a reassuring smile. "Now come here and cuddle with me." 

You reposition yourself so that you lean on a few pillows against the headboard, slightly raised. You spread your legs open and gestures for Optimus to fill the space between them.

"Come here darling. Lay on my stomach. Let me take care of my sweet, hard working Prime.”

The honeyed pet names make him preen, EM field alight with love-care-affection-tenderness. Optimus obliged, eagerly crawling into your lap and planting himself there, arms wrapped around your waist and helm against the plush of your chest. Then, after a moment, he's enveloped by your arms, legs firmly against his side, one leg wrapped around his waist. All at once he's surrounded by warmth and relaxation starts to seep into his cables.

Once you put her hands over his helm, slowly and gently stroking back and forth— he’s a goner. His cables and piston hisses at the release of pressure and he ex-vents at the beautiful sensation of being engulfed by the presence of his sparkmate. He can feel your voice humming through your skin.

"... I love you, my inamorata. Thank you, for giving me so much care."

"I love you too, my dear Prime." A soft kiss on his helm. 

“My darling Orion."

[revelboo]

Hi! I just read your TFA! Bulkhead short story and was wondering if we could have a few more crumbs? I really like bulkhead and the idea of meeting Sari as you have to will every bone in your body to not run when Bulkhead's looming over both of you.

I love ur work BTW, make sure you take breaks when needed and drink water! Also don't starve :)

Sure!

Time Turned Fragile Pt 2

TFA Bulkhead x Reader

• Heart racing, you follow the giant and shiver as you spot another of them inside the big space. Wondering if you’re going to be allowed to leave again. See the moment the other one notices you, pushing his black and gold frame away from the wall and silently approaching. Your huge chaperone, gestures at the newcomer. “I’m Bulkhead and this is Prowl.” Head tipping slightly at you, the thinner robot lays a hand on the big guy. “Bulkhead, a word?” Flashing a brittle smile at them, as the two move off to whisper about you in a corner.

• “What exactly are you doing?” Prowl asks, voice pitched low as they both glance at you. Watching you wander about, frowning. “Sari needs another human,” Bulkhead mutters, because no matter how hard they try, they’re not human. Don’t really know how to care for her. “She shouldn’t have to only have us.” Shouldn’t be isolated from other humans to spend time with them. Venting tiredly, he rubs at his helm as Prowl reluctantly nods. But Ratchet and Optimus are going to be the ones that really need convincing. And they’re not going to like more humans knowing about them.

• Stiffening when Bulkhead returns, looming over you, and gesturing for you to follow him deeper into the building. Skin prickling, you look around. There are signs that there is a kid here. A small shoe on the concrete floor. A stuffed animal tossed on a counter. How old is this kid? Nine or ten? Younger? Eyes narrowing, you hear laughter. And then he’s leading you into a new space and you spot the little girl sitting on a dirty, threadbare couch that looks like it was thieved from a street corner. And beside her, a yellow robot smaller than the other two with a controller like Sari’s in hand. “Sari?” You call out and they both look up from their video game.

• “Oh, you’re going to be in trouble,” Bumblebee sings out, laughing and sitting up straighter to grin as Sari looks from you to Bulkhead in question. And you kneel on the floor, offering Sari a completely different smile than you’d given him. A real smile that makes you seem softer. Gentler. “Can we talk a minute?” You ask her and Sari looks to him, sliding off the couch when he nods encouragingly at her. Her expression suspicious as you offer her a hand that she doesn’t take. But Sari does follow you out into the hall to talk.

• “Are you okay here? With them?” You ask and the little girl frowns up at you. “With my family?” She counters and some of your tension eases. Because she doesn’t seem frightened or intimidated by them. Family, though? What exactly happened for her to end up with them? Is she homeless? “When’s the last time you’ve had a hot meal?” You ask and her expression becomes guarded. “They feed me,” she says, skinny arms crossing as her chin lifts. Enough, though? Want to pry and ask more questions, but the little girl’s expression is defiant.

• Straightening as you return and then walk right past him, Bulkhead trails behind you. “You’re not going to help?” He asks and you look at him over your shoulder. That open smile is gone again, face blank as you stare up at him. “I’m going to go get groceries,” you say and he follows you to the door and watches you disappear out into the street. Hoping you’ll actually come back.

Previous

[ohsugar-honey-iced-tea]

Hi!

I wanted to send you this request: could you please write something with pregnant!wanda being very insecure about her body, and reader shows her that she loves her no matter what??

It can be fluff, smut. It’s up to you!!

All I will ever need

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

A/n: I have missed writing so much and I am so happy to finally put all my thoughts and ideas on here again

Summary: where Wanda is being haunted by thoughts and memories of her past

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

Ugly. Fat. Hideous. Stupid. Loser.

Wanda remembers each and every word that was thrown to her growing up.

The names, the mean pranks, the cruel beatings. Wanda remembers them all like it was yesterday. Day in day out, high school felt like a true horror every day she went.

Maybe they were right. Maybe she was indeed ugly and hideous. Why else would they feel the need to say this to Wanda every moment of every day?

Hot tears rolled over her reddened cheeks as she looked at herself in the mirror.

Wanda is around 14 weeks pregnant now, and she could see. She could see how her belly was growing a little more every day.

She remembered how happy you were the day she told you she was pregnant. And although there was happiness, her thoughts soon filled with doubt. Would she be good enough? Would you still find her attractive whilst her body would change? Would you get bored of her? Would you leave?

Harsh words and anxiety filled her thoughts, and she could feel panic settling into her body.

As Wanda's heart started racing and her breathing quickened, you came home from work.

You had brought Wanda her favorite flowers, white lilies. The same ones you gave her on your first date, and which ones she held on your wedding day.

"Hey Wands, I'm home!"

Silence.

Usually you would be greeted warmly by your wife or find her in the livingroom, painting, reading or cooking. As much as you wanted her to relax for her and the baby, Wanda wanted to stay busy. It helped keep her mind quiet.

"Wanda?"

A cold feeling came over you as you saw the bathroom lights on. As you rushed on the stairs to get to her you could hear fast breathing coming from the bathroom.

You quickly opened the door and there she was. The second you saw her you rushed to her, and Wanda immediately fell in your arms, making both of you tumble to the floor. As you held her close you felt Wanda shake, as she sobbed into your shoulder.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! Please stop, I promise I'll be good!"

All you could do was hold her as Wanda was deep into reliving her horrible nightmares from the past.

"It's okay, Wanda. You're okay. I am right here, I promise. Let it all out, we are here together. It's okay, you are safe"

Wanda cried and cried and you silently cried with her. It was in that moment you swore to yourself you wouldn't ever let anything or anyone hurt Wanda again.

After a good ten minutes, Wanda looked at you, tears swimming in her eyes and voice shaking with sobs.

"Please don't leave me"

Your heart broke for the frail little girl you suddently saw in Wanda. A girl who loved so much and wanted to give so much, and got so much she didn't deserve.

Giving her a little smile, you softly stroked her tear stained cheek.

"Oh my love, I wouldn't ever leave you. Don't you know you are stuck with me? You are all I will ever need. Past, present and future"

You moved your hand to her pregnant belly.

"You and our little peanut, of course"

Wanda smiled a little, but it quickly turned into a frown.

"But my stomach is getting so big, and I am getting more tired. What if we end up arguing a lot? And what if I get so big by the end that you won't love me anymore? And what if-"

You cut her off with a kiss as you held her hands.

"All I heard in that sentence was 'we', Wanda. We are in this together. Now and forever"

You pressed little kisses to each of Wanda's fingertips, earning you a watery giggle.

"And I wouldn't mind forever with you"

Wanda's smile brightened, and she leaned into you, cuddling her head on your shoulder.

"It's actually not one, but two peanuts"

You looked at her with wide eyes and you4 mouth open.

"You mean...?"

"Twins"

"Twins?"

"We are having two little boys, detka"

You suddently picked her up, and swirled the both of you around in the tiny bathroom, smiling widely.

"We are having twins!"

You spent the rest of the day celebrating, just the two of you.

Bad feelings come and go, and difficult memories will always be there, but when you're with the right person there is nothing in the world you can't conquer.

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

Let me know if you want to be added to the Wanda taglist! If you have any requests, send them! Reblogs are much appreciated :)

Taglist: @wandanats-goodgirl

[distinctlywhumpthing]

It's Never Too Late for Christmas

Alright, look. This might be the fluffiest thing I have ever written. It's barely 1000 words so don't anyone come for me saying I've gone soft. Probably takes place a few weeks after First Night Home. Due credit to @deluxewhump's Wishbone for getting me thinking of the smell of Home. Wow, see what I did there: Full circle.

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“Merry Christmas!” Leo says, immediately wanting to dial it back. He holds out the repurposed brown grocery bag between them. 

Aiden looks down, one arm crossing over his torso. “But...mmm’it’s not…” 

Definitely too much enthusiasm. 

Leo lowers the bag. “Right, yeah. I just thought—well, we only missed it by a few weeks…you know back when we met. I mean… It seemed like…” 

Why had this seemed like a good idea again? 

“It’s nothing big,” he tries but Aiden won’t look at him. Like Aiden’s the one who misstepped instead of vice versa. The kid grips his own arm like it’s a lifeline, fingertips digging into his flesh. Never mind that he’s wearing just a t-shirt in late February. Even with the heat a few degrees warmer than he used to keep it, Leo has to bite his tongue to not ask if he wants a sweatshirt. He tries to limit his questions to the ten thousand a day he can’t avoid. 

“I didn’t even wrap it really,” Leo rushes to say. “It’s never too late for Christmas. ‘Honour it in your heart and try to keep it all the year’, you know—” God, stop talking. “‘Live in the Past, the Present, and the Future’—”

Well, at least he got the kid’s attention. Albeit paired with a confused and I’m-embarrassed-for-you grimace. 

“Please, just take it. Put me out of my misery.” 

Aiden takes a half step back but he does. 

Because Leo told him to. Fuck, this was a terrible idea.  

He holds the bag from the bottom with both hands, as gingerly as if something might be alive in there. His eyes flash up to Leo’s before he reaches inside. He opens his mouth once, twice, like he’s trying to say something, but doesn’t. Instead, he looks to Leo for permission again. 

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead,” he says absently, still stuck on what Aiden stopped himself from saying. 

The way the kid reaches into the bag with all the gusto of sticking his hand into a live fire hollows Leo’s chest. Once his fingers meet fabric instead of whatever horrors he’s expecting, Aiden pulls the bundle out with a little more conviction. 

Leo relieves him of the bag, fingers unconsciously creasing it back up along all the seams, as he watches Aiden unfold the jacket. For the past few weeks, he’s lent Aiden his Carhartt and carried rather than worn an embarrassingly retro ski parka. 

“I—” He looks at Leo, something between disbelief and awe in his face. 

“Try it on—I mean, you can try it on if you want to,” he revises. 

He threads a skinny arm through the first sleeve. 

Leo reaches around to hold the jacket so he can reach the other. “It’s the same size as mine…so you can wear more layers while it’s cold.” 

Aiden fingers the ends of the sleeves. “Thank…you...” 

“The color suits you,” Leo blurts, caught off guard by the shy smile Aiden’s trying to hide while inspecting the coat. A total one-eighty he hopes isn’t just Aiden placating him. 

–––

“Aiden? Are you ready?” Leo calls up the stairs as he heads to the door to get his shoes on. “We need to leave in two minutes if we’re going to—” 

He’s already there. 

Standing by the door with the Converse pulled on, the laces tucked inside, and wearing Leo’s jacket. He bites his lips together as he pulls the zipper up, slow enough for Leo to stop him. When he reaches the top without interruption, he lets his gaze slide over to the new navy jacket, still hanging from its hook, and back to Leo. 

He lets out the laugh he’s been holding in and pulls on the coat. “I knew there was a reason I got this in my size.” 

“Color…mmm’s-s-suits…you,” Aiden says, tucking his chin into the soft collar of the old brown jacket, hiding what Leo is sure is a grin. 

Leo scoops him into a hug. “You’ve been plotting this from the beginning, haven’t you?” He swings them side to side a little, the gentlest roughhousing. Aiden shakes his head against Leo’s chest, he’s laughing now but trying to hide it. “This is absolutely not going to work when I buy you workboots. We are not the same size.” 

Aiden’s reply is muffled so Leo pulls back just far enough for him to lift his head. “Layers,” he repeats, barely able to get it out before he’s shaking with laughter again, pressing his face into Leo’s shoulder.  

“You’re incorrigible.” Before he can overthink it, he presses a chaste kiss to the crown of his head. He smells like home. His home. H— 

Leo backpedals against the possessiveness before he even completes the thought. 

But the part of him that spent countless nights wondering if he’d wake up to an empty house finds it profoundly comforting. The evidence that on the basest, organic level Aiden belongs to this home. Has been engrained in its rhythms and smells. The fabric softener from the sheets he tangles up every night, the lavender shower gel he picked out himself, toothpaste from brushing his teeth after the breakfast they cooked together. 

And not least of all, Leo himself. Wrapped up in his arms and wearing his old jacket. 

Home. 

Previous — Masterlist — Next

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess

@meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump

@painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings

@peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump

@aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @pigeonwhumps @batfacedliar-yetagain

@whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @pirefyrelight @whumps-and-bumps

@i-eat-worlds @hellodecisionparalysis @heartfullofhoney @alternateminds @taterswhump

[wexhappyxfew]

saw you were taking prompts and am having absolute carrie x dougie brainrot! maybe something with “i can stay the night, y’know. if it’d make you feel better.” or really whatever you see fit for them!

I just think that have such a fun and interesting dynamic that i’m OBSESSED with.

HELLO LOVELY ANON!!!! :) apologies that i am now months late to this prompt - but i am happy to say, i have an incredibly fun piece written in response!!! this has gone through a few iterations i won't lie - with some of the pieces of writing most likely incorporated into other pieces in the future! BUT - for now, please enjoy my take on this prompt. thank you SO MUCH for the love on carrie and dougie! i have so much fun writing them and their entire dynamic and THANK YOU so much for loving on them!!!! carrie x dougie brainrot is REAL!!!! <33333 PLEASE ENJOY!!!!! :D

stay the night

(a/n): carrie x dougie, with a hint of angst, featuring a smidge of episode 5 in all its sad, grief-filled, angsty glory. if you squint, you can get some vivian x blakely in there as well - a prelude to them and an upcoming piece! <3 if you want to read a piece for a bit of an idea as to what both carrie and dougie discuss in the second half of this piece, highly recommend didn't think you'd notice as a starter! as always, please enjoy! carrie x dougie here fill my heart with all good stuff! :)

Carrie's head had begun to nod off at the bar.

Between the highest levels of exhaustion she'd been feeling in ages, the numbing realization that hundreds of men were being lost everyday, and a few piloting crews were out 50% of their men, meant she was on edge now more than ever.

And to top it off, Blakely's crew was missing - no one had seen them go down, nor had anyone seen their plane come back. And it'd been two days.

Everyone was feeling some sort of pain that they were trying to push away with light music, a little alcohol and the remaining crews.

After the Silver Bullets crew was split up, much to the highest distaste and dislike of both Annie and Francis; Annie, Bessie, Kennedy and Margie had gotten transferred to a new plane crew - co-ed. First of it's kind.

They were spread thin, they needed vets with the rookies. Some people got the short end of the stick - where there was no more flying and simply the Operation room as their closest companion.

That was Carrie.

Staring at maps all day, marking bombing runs with some of the navigators, filling holes where they were needed. She wasn't a map-keeper, she was a goddamn bombardier. But she didn't even bother to open her mouth.

Stress was high, tensions thick and everyone was trying to keep it together around her it seemed.

Annie was usually flying in the air or on training duty or in meetings more often than not, staving away any sort of reality that there was at this time.

Francis was nowhere to be found unless she was needed on a mission with her own co-ed flying death trap.

Bucky was gone to England with no idea that Buck, alongside DeMarco, were both MIA, along with Margie doing everything it seemed to ignore the obvious.

Judy was placed into a new crew - Rosie's Riveters - and every time Carrie saw her, squeezed the living daylights out of that poor girl when she could. Judy was a little sister to all of them. Knowing she was separated from the rest of the crew, Carrie considered going to church.

Marianne was stuck in Operations with Carrie - and she always brought Frank - which seemed to be the highlights of peoples' days when that fat orange cat would come around. Though, Marianne was fighting sleep most days, the stress becoming far too much for all of them.

Paulina was still Radio Ops, but she wasn't flying anymore - days and nights she spent beside Operations, translating and recording and writing until her hands damn-near broke.

Now, she was nursing a beer, cuddled up beside Hambone Hamilton across the bar, talking in the quietest voice anyone had ever heard from the woman. They were really all going through it.

And on top of all that, Vivian Ratcliff was spiraling beside Carrie this fine evening, trying not to lose her mind. Everyone knew how rough it was for her after losing James - they were supposed to get married, she wanted to have kids with him, he was planning to pop the question after the war.

Ev Blakely had become a good friend to her, a real good friend, probably closer than either of them had thought or even seen coming, but now, she was onto her second beer and sitting there with nothing but tears in her eyes and a blank face. Carrie was going to tell her to finish her drink and head to bed soon by this point; it hurt Carrie to see Viv like this. Ever since coming to England, it's been bad spell after bad spell for the waist gunner.

"Holy shit, it's Blakely's crew!"

Carrie's whole body froze. There were cheers and yelling and voices and a clammer of footsteps along the wooden floor to her left and she slowly turned her head to see, there coming through the door was Blakely, Crosby and Douglass. Carrie couldn't move, watching as guys hugged one another, slapped each other on the back and fell into their normal banter routine of laughter, cackles and drink offerings.

Carrie could only watch. And her eyes fell specifically right to Douglass. Stood there, his hair unruly, a few bloodied scars on his face, a wide smile on his lips as he laughed and eyes so soft she was sure if she could get her legs moving, she would be over there right now, trying to keep it together.

Carrie watched the group disperse, drinks a promise from Brady and Crank, and took to watching Dougie who was offered a beer which he took with a smile, before his eyes started roaming around. Her heart began to pound inside of her chest. Before-

"Ev!" Carrie looked up and over and watched as Vivian had looked up, jaw dropping open, a few stray tears lingering in the corners of her eyes, as she slid off the stool and hurried over towards Blakely. Carrie's heart warmed as her eyes tore off of Dougie to watch as Blakely whipped his head around, a grin blowing up on his face like some sort of hot air balloon, pushing through a few of the guys to meet Viv halfway.

When they met, it was a sort of bone-crushing looking hug, with her arms wrapped around his neck and Blakely's….rather-large form cocooning Viv against him there.

Carrie watched as Viv's form trembled a bit against him - she was sure Viv was shedding a few tears that she'd been trying her best to hold in the last few days - and watched as Blakely said something clearly enough to make her laugh.

And then, Carrie was looking over towards Dougie again, and found his eyes already on her. A beer bottle halfway to her lips and her eyes blown wide open, she slowly placed the bottle down and awkwardly lifted her hand to wave.

Why the hell was she waving?

The man had probably just seen death and she decided to wave?

Lowering her hand, she watched as Dougie smiled at her, offering a small wave her way. He knocked Brady in the shoulder, stood beside him and then began walking over towards her, a small grin riding his face.

Briefly, incredibly briefly in Carrie's mind, she remembered that feeling of kissing Dougie - and the fact that immediately afterwards, she had been pulling herself from him, mumbling about being drunk, and then avoiding him the entirety of the rest of the night. Only for the mission to be called that night, and she had found herself disappearing for the night to her cot, not telling a soul that she had been kissing James Douglass just an hour previous.

And when the news had broke that Blakely's plane had disappeared and gone down? And she hadn't said a goddamn word to Dougie the next morning, promptly ignoring him, she found herself ripped with guilt.

And now - he was here, he was back and standing right in front of her, and her only thought was that she was speechless. She didn't know what to say in that moment, and was having a rather hard time deciding if she should be upset or angry or overjoyed or pissed off.

She couldn't sort it out.

And with him standing here, after those two days, she was half-convinced she could just kiss him on the mouth and it'd be better than any other reaction she could've had.

"Hi." he said.

"Hi." she found herself saying back, fighting to say more, but keeping her walls up and closed in on every inch of herself. She was pissed the plane had gone down, that she had allowed herself to be beyond worried sick for him. She was pissed she had let herself feel like that. She was pissed he was standing here now and she was speechless and didn't have more to say.

Carrie stared at his face a little while longer, those bloodied scars along his face, his unruly hair, his kind eyes. She felt her heart begin to race.

"You should get those cuts looked at." she said quickly, her voice sounding choppy, her tone sounding fake. She sounded out of place, nervous, and flustered. She didn't sound like her.

"I will." he said with a smile, before drifting his eyes over her form and meeting her gaze again.

"Are you okay?" she asked, almost mechanically, "When I heard-"

"All good." he said, his fingers twitching near his hip, "You?" Carrie's face grew hot.

"Me?" she choked out, clearing her throat, "Fine, fine, I…I should be making sure you are." Her heart was beginning to pound harder inside her chest.

"Do you want to talk?" he asked her, before dropping his voice, "Somewhere not here?" She blinked, feeling her face turn a deeper red, before slowly nodding.

"Yeah." she said quietly, taking one more sip of beer before slowly moving to her feet, closing a few inches between them, the space between their faces minute for a split second before she stepped away from the bar, "Where to?"

"We can go outside." he said, meeting her eyes before patting the bar table and turning.

Following him out of the room and to the darkened outside world made her feel dizzy - she was sweating, red in the face, hyperaware of his presence, the way he had looked at her, and every single urge she had felt upon seeing him. Dougie stepped outside and she followed him around the corner of the hut, where for the time being, they were hidden from anyone's view.

For a moment, all they did was stare at each other, listening to the quiet rumble of their breathing, the distant voices, the chirping of mid-fall crickets and bugs holed up in trees. In the dark, she found it easier to breathe than when she had been stood inches from him at the bar.

The anticipation was killing her on the inside in every way possible - the lack of speaking (something not at all normal for either of them), they way all they could seem to do was stare (which yet again, was not normal), and the way Dougie was watching her now (she couldn't get her mind to work).

"I thought you were dead." Carrie said - quickly - her voice sounding rushed, as she met his gaze, "When they told us the plane hadn't made it back. And that the others had gone down, gotten hit. After hearing about Major Cleven's plane-"

"Carrie." Dougie said, stepping forward and gently placing his hands on her shoulders, "It's okay." He offered a small smile. "We're here now." Carrie watched him, the feel of his hands on her shoulders, his gaze on her, body inches from her own.

"But you know it's more than that." Carrie found herself saying as she stood there, "You know that." For a moment, Dougie just watched her - as if a bit dumbfounded and confused.

"Whatever is going on between us," Carrie managed out, shakily meeting his eyes, "I can't deal with it. It's suffocating. When I heard the plane had disappeared over IP - that you were on that plane. You, Dougie. I couldn't breathe." She blinked rapidly for a moment.

"Knowing the way we'd left things, and how I'd left things and now you're standing here in front of me and I'm blabbering like an idiot." Carrie said, "And I could barely sleep because I felt so guilty that I'd just left you there and then thought you had died. But now you're standing here and still alive and I….." She trailed off and grew quiet, before meeting his gaze. She knew something was wrong with her because the longer she stared at Dougie's calm and rather composed face, the more she could feel herself calming down. The presence of his hands, his eyes, him.

"I know." Dougie said quietly, taking a small step forward between them, that small smile on his face growing as she peered up into his eyes, "You okay? Don't need you losing your breath, huh?" Carrie managed a crack of a smile on her lips, before she found her eyes welling with tears.

"You're just saying that to not rile me up." she managed out, hoping her attempt at a joking tone was evident.

"Oh am I?" he asked with a laugh, his warm hand appearing on her cheek, his thumb brushing over the scars left behind from her time in the sky, left behind by the war, the memories scathed across her face, "You think that's what I'm trying to do?"

"It's usually what you're trying to do." she whispered, eyes flicking to his lips for a brief moment before meeting his gaze upwards again, "You're just like that."

"With you I am." he said, his face lingering closer, his dark eyes inviting her into him it felt.

"With me?" she whispered, her hands finding their way to the front of his B3, gripping the leather tightly as she stared up at him with a slightly watery gaze, "So, you do it just to piss me off?"

"Sometimes." he said with an almost surprised, gruff chuckle to follow that made her heart twist, "I also know it makes you laugh so…."

"Makes me laugh, huh?" she whispered as his other hand traveled down to her waist, his grip tight as he watched her in the darkness, "Not always."

"How so?" he whispered back, "I know you, Bergie." Carrie watched him - and she could feel her insides calm. It was true. He did know her. He really did. Just like in this moment.

He knew her.

With Dougie pressed so close to her, his gaze persistent in front of her own, her own eyes scoring the blood across his face, the damage of war done to someone she wanted to protect suddenly with her life, she couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh.

"What're you laughing at now?" he whispered, "I didn't even get the chance to say anything funny." Carrie laughed again and shook her head.

"You know the first time I met you, I couldn't stand that carpet on your face?" Carrie whispered quietly, "I thought it looked like a squirrel, or….I don't know…a mangled bird." Dougie let out a laugh.

"A mangled bird, are you crazy?" he whispered, his thumb brushing on her cheek as his grin grew.

"Maybe." she whispered back.

"At least Ev appreciates the 'stache." he said and Carrie chuckled at his words, before going quiet, simply gazing up at his eyes, her own smile growing.

"What?" he asked her, "You always got that look on your face, you know that? When you look at me."

"I know." she whispered, her smile growing, her boldness flickering at the edges. Dougie watched her, his tender eyes quiet and content, and Carrie was sure she could spend the rest of the night simply staring at his face, memorizing that look in his eyes, the closeness of his face, all those little bits of his eyes you never saw until you were up close. She almost couldn't take the pounding of her heart anymore.

"I had wanted to kiss you, by the way," Carrie said quietly, "when we had danced together. And I guess….it scared me what it could mean. Especially during the war. And then it sort of came true. The possibility of losing you then. After they told me." Dougie smirked at her, before leaning closer to her, his eyes looking tired and lazy, his smile wide.

"Fuck the war." he whispered, before he leaned forward fully, his lips meeting hers.

It was a desperate kiss, she will admit fully - especially from herself. Clinging onto him, hands curled into the front of his B3, trying to pull him as close as she could, her mind a scattered array of thoughts as all she could focus on was his lips on her own.

Of course, the first time it had happened, she had been slightly buzzed, a little out of sorts, and taken off guard. Yet she had enjoyed every second.

Now, it was familiar, comfortable and safe. And she had never felt more wanted. It felt as if there was a million unsaid words between them in this moment, rooted in passion, desperation and grief that couldn't be described in any other way. Her hands were in his hair at one point, his cradling her face, her heart continuing to pound inside her chest. She felt out-of-body, like she didn't know what was happening to her.

When they had pulled apart, faces still inches from each other, trying to catch some sort of breath in this moment, all Carrie could do was stare up at him.

"What?" he asked her, his voice rich with warmth and what nearly felt like adoration in his tone.

She couldn't seem to get words in her mind and out of her mouth.

She was in love, she knew that much.

Softly, she gave him a gentle kiss before pulling back.

"Nothing to worry your pretty little face about." she whispered, as he chuckled. In that quiet moment, where they could only just watch the other, a soft red lit clicked on somewhere around the corner, near the door to the flying club. It hit the side of Dougie's face gently, and in a sinking realization, she saw the smile on his face drop, mirroring her own.

They both knew what that meant - another mission. Another mission. Dougie let out a quiet sigh, leaning forward to rest his forehead against her own.

"I can stay the night, y'know. If it'd make you feel better." he whispered. They were walking a very thin line.

"Please do."

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Spare Me Your Mercy - final thoughts

I was out of town last week, so didn't have a chance to watch the SMYM finale until today. But wow, what an experience this show was. I have a few minor criticisms, but overall, I found this to be such a nuanced and heartfelt watch.

You can tell how deeply those making this series cared about the topic of euthanasia, and creating a venue for discussion. The emphasis on people's autonomy and right to dignity, the callout of class disparity and how it impacts the end of one's life, the inequity in health care and how people with few resources are disproportionately burdened with caring for dying family while still trying to survive day to day. How the trauma and pain of it all grows exponentially, continually leading to further tragedy.

I know there are criticisms of the Kan and Thiu relationship, but honestly, it worked for me. To me, it felt like what was needed for the story. Thiu is clearly a deeply internal character. He may not necessarily hide but he is not remotely forthcoming about his inner world, whether it be his sexuality or his affections or his worries about Kan. Kan is much more open and extroverted, but at the same time, he was willing to lie to Thiu for their entire lives due to his convictions. These are not men who are going to be doing grand romantic gestures for each other; it's a quiet, and honestly, quite realistic form of love. At the same time, it was supposed to feel slightly off, because there was a giant wall between the two of them. There were too many secrets, and too much pain, and none of it was being dealt with in the open. They couldn't be genuinely honest and intimate with each other. Until the very end, when Kan shows he is willing to give up everything in an act of love for Thiu, and Thiu is finally able to say what he feels. It may feel dark, but the wall is down, and I think they will weather what comes next.

What I particularly appreciate about this series is the emphasis on how harmful it is when you cannot talk about a difficult subject. It is likely that many of us fall into slightly different places on the spectrum of what is moral and ethical when it comes to euthanasia, but the vital thing is being able to communicate about it. Thiu's mother wasn't able to tell her son that she was ready to die, so he became mired in his regrets and his grief, rather than understanding it was her choice. Rin wasn't able to talk to her father, to know that he was self-determining his end (and thinking of her), so she was left to wonder and feel rejected. Somsak wasn't willing to listen to his lover's wishes, due to his entrenched beliefs, so missed being there for his final moments. Boss couldn't come to Kan directly, and ended up on a misguided and fatal path. And none of them had an avenue to process their pain. It all needed to be talked about, to be brought into the light of day without fear or shame. We all need to be able to talk about it.

It's really interesting to watch this show as someone who grew up in America when the furor around Kevorkian happened (for the non-Americans, a doctor who went to prison for euthanizing a terminally ill man), and experienced what it's like when euthanasia breaks in as a topic of news cycles and everyday conversation. I am also someone who lives in a state where assisted dying is legal. My parents are elderly, and we have talked about their end of life wishes. Living in a state where they could make their own decisions was paramount to them. It's incredibly challenging, and it hurts to even think about, but it is so very necessary to communicate with those we love.

My heart goes out to everyone who has had to personally grapple with this topic, and had to deal with a lack of legal options for a peaceful end of life. May we come ever closer to a world where we all get full autonomy, and can be open with those we love about what we need, both now, and at the end.

[shvdwscng]

kalore  had  kept  much  locked  away,  every  inane  detail  of  his  childhood,  of  his  younger  brother,  of  his  parents,  and  the  string  of  events  that  led  him  down  this  path,  serving  a  family  he  had  no  iota  of  desire  to  serve,  an  deep,  innate  hatred  that  threatened  to  consume  him  most  days,  but  perhaps  didn't  because  of  her.  that  each  time  he  was  angry,  he  would  think  of  her  and  in  a  moment  all  of  his  emotions  were  replaced  by  something  he  feared,  a  desire,  a  longing,  an  ache  that  was  unlike  another.  a  understanding  that  he'd  never  be  whole  again,  and  then,  slowly,  piece  by  piece  he  felt  parts  of  his  soul  and  heart  return  when  his  attention  fell  to  the  shadowsinger.  it  was  so  strange  to  even  entertain  the  thoughts  that  another  creature  could  exist  that  would  settle  within  his  being�� the  way  she  has.  he  has  seen  it  all  around,  with  his  parents  who  complimented  each  other  so  well.  watching  the  way  his  own  mother  complimented  his  father  in  every  way,  and  to  him  then  it  had  been  what  a  perfect  love  look  liked.  they  were  never  openly  expressive  or  affectionate,  but  he  knew,  both  their  children  knew  without  a  doubt  their  parents  loved  one  another  infinitely.  not  for  once,  did  the  daemati  believe  he  would  ever  have  any  of  it.  not  to  the  fault  of  others,  but  due  to  his  own  sharp  edges,  the  shattered  fragments  of  him  that  would  never  be  whole  again,  but  alas  he  was  wrong.  kalore  had  taken  after  his  parents  entirely,  unable  to  express  all  that  he  felt  for  siara  so  easily,  all  the  while  siara  learned  to  read  all  that  he  did  not  say.  he  supposed  it  was  why  she  never  feared  his  responses  nor  his  reactions,  slowly,  she  had  unraveled  him  and  with  it,  claimed  his  heart  just  as  he  had  with  hers.  it  was  no  surprise  that  the  commander  fell  for  her,  this  was  bound  to  happen,  he'd  known  the  moment  she  entered  his  mind  and  his  heart  and  never  left,  no  matter  how  much  effort  he  place  to  watch  her  as  he  did,  think  of  her  as  often,  that  even  in  the  midst  of  his  tasks,  she  was  always  lurking  in  his  mind.  how  he  remember  his  every  interaction  with  her,  the  way  she  teased  him,  that  in  the  moment  annoyed  him,  but  later  he  found  amusement  in.  it  was  quite  disturbing  how  he  recalled  every  detail  of  her  appearance,  of  what  she  wore,  what,  she  smelled  like  at  any  day.  "truly,  you  ought  to  cease  referring  to  me  as  such.  i  appreciate  the  sentiments,  but  surely  you  can  find  far  better,  creative  endearments  for  me."  his  onyx  gaze  gleamed.

now  for  then  ever  he  ached  for  his  abilities,  if  he  could  even  have  a  taste  of  them  now  only  to  slip  into  her  mind  and  allow  siara  to  see  herself  as  he  did.  all  that  he  still  had  difficultly  conveying  with  his  words  was  far  more  visible  in  his  mind.  "i  have  much  more  i  wish  to  offer  you,  when  my  our  abilities  return."  instead,  he  offers  a  promise  in  the  meantime  that  she  deserved  far  more  from  him,  and  he  intended  to  offer  her  the  moment  he  was  able  to.  with  this,  all  the  secrets  he'd  kept  to  himself  were  easier  to  show  than  it  was  to  say  aloud,  until  she  knew  every  inane  detail.  he  feared  it  still,  even  knowing  nothing  he  did  perhaps  would  frightened  her  off,  but  it  was  one  that  remained  until  he  could  open  his  mind  to  her.  her  words  of  wishing  to  do  the  ceremony  sends  a  thrill  right  through  his  veins,  and  her  certainty  that  she  knew  she  did  not  need  anything  to  confirm  what's  been  true  since  the  moment  they  met.  "the  moment  we  return  home,  this  is  what  will  be  done  before  all  else."  another  promise  he  offered,  and  he  prayed,  he'd  never  prayed  ever,  but  he  prays  now  that  fates  would  allow  them  the  chance  to  do  this.

the  words  were  there  at  the  tip  of  her  tongue,  but  he  waits,  claiming  her  lips  in  a  kiss  that  was  bother  tender  and  fierce,  a  tenderness  he  isn't  certain  he  was  capable  of  but  he  learns  siara  draws  much  from  him  he's  not  fathom  he's  capable  of.  he  kisses  her  for  a  long  while,  uncaring  as  to  who  bore  witness,  it  was  not  as  if  this  was  not  common  knowledge  but  simply  wishing  to  relish  in  this  moment  as  her  words  echo  in  his  mind.  her  love,  her  commander,  her  partner.  they  settle  into  him  and  he  swears  he'll  hear  the  echo  of  them  every  night,  and  every  moment  of  the  day.  his  arms  are  tight  around  her,  pulling  back  just  slightly  to  gaze  at  her  when  she  whispered  the  words.  "nor  i,  siara,  but  i  suppose  we're  simply  waiting  for  one  another  -  waiting  until  we  found  one  another."  there  was  a  sense  of  elation  he  felt,  of  being  her  first,  and  her  only  love,  just  as  she  was  of  his.  "i  am  honored  to  be  your  first  love,  and  your  only  love,  and  your  last  love.  as  you  are  mine."

END.

"  no  it  doesn't.  "  she  says  with  a  laugh.  though  she  also  understood  when  was  not  the  time  to  tease  him  and  chose  not  to.  even  when  siara  was  simply  out  to  annoy  the  commander,  to  get  a  rise  out  of  him,  she  did  so  carefully.  picked  her  moments  wisely.  siara  liked  to  be  a  thorn  in  his  side,  but  she  never  wished  to  cause  actual  damage.  she'd  learned  how  to  read  him  very  quickly,  and  it  seemed  that  had  been  her  opening  through  the  walls  he  placed  about  himself.  it  hadn't  even  been  hard,  which  was  perhaps  frightening  if  it  weren't  for  the  way  he  did  the  same  to  her.  siara's  upbringing  was  many  horrid  things,  but  it  was  also  the  reason  she  was  able  to  stare  into  his  gaze,  unwavering  and  unfearing.  he'd  never  scared  her,  his  reputation  had  only  served  to  interest  her  further  in  figuring  out  how  the  man  worked.  what  further  drew  her  in  was  his  way  of  possessing  so  much  power  within  their  court  but  not  screaming  about  it.  he  had  a  quiet,  commanding  way  of  whispering  his  control  and  from  the  moment  she  met  him  all  he  ever  did  was  catch  her  curiosity  and  snare  her  in  deeper.  each  gaze  cast  her  way  had  cut  through  her,  but  never  scared  her.  in  truth,  only  once  had  she  been  worried  around  him  –  and  that  had  been  when  she  learned  of  his  daemati  abilities.  she  hadn't  flinched,  she  only  hoped  he  wouldn't  poke  into  places  uninvited.  and  for  all  she  knew,  he  hadn't.  it  was  one  of  the  many  reasons  she  trusted  him,  despite  his  lack  of  understanding  how  she  could.  and  as  she  learned  him  more  her  confidence  grew,  in  her  own  abilities  as  well  as  her  pleasure  at  knowing  she  was  the  only  one  able  to  do  certain  things,  and  able  to  pull  certain  things  from  him.  the  game  became  her  addiction  –  he  became  her  addiction.  slowly  that  trust  she  had  in  him  was  something  she  felt  him  return,  and  eventually  it  became  shared  in  a  way  neither  trusted  any  other.  she  had  a  dangerous  power  over  kalore,  but  he  did  the  same  to  her.  when  everything  finally  crashed  between  them,  every  wall  and  every  ounce  of  stubbornness,  it  had  been  the  awakening  to  something  siara  never  thought  she'd  have.  he  belonged  to  her,  made  for  her  and  her  alone.  everything  they  had  been  doing  before  was  simple  foreplay,  leading  them  to  where  they  were  always  destined  to  end  up.  "  well,  you  were  always  my  favorite  toy.  "  she  teases,  but  her  words  mean  a  lot.  she'd  never  enjoyed  someone  as  much  as  he,  and  while  it  was  quite  backwards  in  most  courting  definitions,  the  way  she  poked  at  him  had  been  a  marker  of  her  interest  long  before  she  realized  it.

"  i  don't  expect  to  regret  anything  between  us  kalore.  but  i  shall  take  everything  you  offer  me  happily.  "  greedily  so.  it  was  incredibly  ironic,  how  easy  it  was  now  for  her  to  show  him  parts  of  herself  she  caged  away,  ignored  and  pretended  did  not  exist.  she'd  chipped  away  at  kalore's  armor,  but  he'd  done  the  same  for  her.  siara  was  a  different  creature  for  it,  but  only  for  him.  the  rest  of  prythian  still  saw  the  guarded,  cold  hearted  shadowsinger  of  the  nightmare  court.  she  knew  the  same  went  for  him,  opening  up  to  her  but  not  to  a  single  other.  these  moments  were  for  each  other  and  none  else.  when  kal  spins  her  away,  it  allows  siara  to  remember  where  they  are,  and  when  they  rejoin  the  words  he  offers  settle  inside  of  her.  the  idea  of  the  mating  ceremony  was  not  something  she  shared  lightly,  and  she  knew  kalore  understood  that.  siara  had  never  been  one  to  share  traditions  or  offer  rituals  to  anyone,  let  alone  someone  who  was  not  even  illyrian.  while  she  didn't  need  the  ceremony  to  know  he  belonged  to  her,  his  willingness  to  embrace  the  heritage  she  had  so  often  ignored  settles  into  her  soul  in  just  another  way  that  seals  her  fate  to  him.  hearing  him  say  as  much  nearly  leaves  her  breathless,  only  siara  isn't  a  pining  lady  of  the  court,  she's  a  warrior  who  knows  how  to  measure  he  reactions.  "  i  don't  need  anything  to  know  you  are  mine,  but  i  think  i  would  like  to  do  the  ceremony.  "  admits  she.  it  would  also  create  an  actual  bond  between  them.  for  illyrians  it  ranged,  from  knowing  where  one  another  was  or  even  feeling  their  emotions  if  they  were  strong  enough.  siara  wasn't  sure  what  the  ancient  magic  would  do  for  she  and  kalore,  especially  with  his  ability  and  her  half  blood  status.  she  wasn't  afraid,  though,  she  wanted  him  in  every  way  he  was  willing  to  give  himself.  siara  held  a  lot  of  importance  in  illyrian  rituals,  even  if  she  would  deny  it  to  anyone  else.  it  marked  the  side  of  her  blood  she  hated  due  to  her  father,  but  they  were  also  so  beautiful  she  couldn't  deny  it.  she  wasn't  often  sentimental  or  sappy,  but  for  this  she  found  she  was.  the  spymaster  ignored  or  avoided  talking  about  such  things  with  anyone  else,  but  with  kalore  she  found  the  words  tumbled  out  without  her  permission.  they  were  meant  for  him  to  hear.  for  so  long  the  pair  of  them  danced  around  the  unspoken  truth,  of  their  feelings  for  one  another  not  needing  to  be  spoken  aloud  to  be  felt.  and  siara  was  fine  with  that.  words  were  sometimes  difficult,  but  their  actions  and  gazes  had  been  more  than  clear.  love  terrified  her,  it  always  had,  but  it  seemed  she  had  no  choice  in  feeling  this  with  kalore.  nor  would  she  have  it  any  other  way.  but  the  time  to  say  those  avoided  words  had  barred  down  on  them,  and  she  relished  in  the  press  of  his  lips  when  she  finally  let  them  out. 

the  kiss  was  full  of  the  fierce  passion  they  shared,  but  also  the  tenderness  only  kalore  could  possess  that  nearly  left  her  trembling.  his  firm  grip  on  her  frame  is  all  that  keeps  siara  standing,  though  she'd  be  hard  pressed  to  admit  it.  the  spymaster  melts  into  her  commander,  hands  fisted  into  his  jacket  to  support  her  body  against  his  own.  this  kiss  was  more  too,  it  was  a  promise  and  an  affirmation  that  neither  could  run  from  the  four  letter  word  any  longer.  and  then  they  part,  and  the  words  he  utters  leave  her  in  a  whole  new  state  of  being.  siara  always  thought  she  was  unbreakable,  but  it  she  could  now  see  she'd  been  wrong.  his  words  shatter  her,  but  the  broken  pieces  fit  back  together  how  they  were  always  meant  to  be.  his  love  puts  her  back  together  the  right  way,  healing  from  all  the  broken  examples  of  love  she'd  been  offered  before.  "  i  didn't  expect  to  ever  hear  someone  say  that  to  me.  "  she  admits  softly.

[danithefangirlbunny]

just so y'all know inside (2021) and inside the outtakes (2022) still hits as hard as they did when they came out

[createandconstruct]

Posted this on Twitter but

Idk man… I think what gets me is the weight of this chapter. 430 had a bittersweetness to it but this feels doubled. Perhaps because this is very likely the last time we’ll see these characters but the send off in this extra chapter feels so quiet and melancholy…

[tiktaaliker]

ITS BEEN A FUCKING WEEK. PASS THE DETRITUS

[lycanthian]

i need to fuckign explode

[jvzebel-x]

"only other Hawaiians ever make me feel not Hawaiian enough--"

"Hawaiians from the islands are racist--"

"Hawaiians from the mainland have REAL aloha spirit everyone up here is just Hawaiian, no matter how much blood you got--"

okay but you understand that every single portion of what you just said is rooted in colonialism&the attempted murder of our people+culture, right. like you GET why kānaka from the islands have to be so protective of things as they are on the frontlines watching both our culture&our land get chunked for the proft of those who have no right to any of it, right. like you KNOW that hawaiian homelands requires a 50% blood quota to even get on the list&a 25% quota from anyone you leave that land to post mortem, &that the list is STILL decades long because the vast majority of the homeless kānaka back home MEET that requirement, right-- that the homeless demographic in the islands has the largest percentage of us left in one grouping in the world&it isn't surprising the families who maintained a higher blood percentage are also too poor to leave the islands even while dying on the streets, right. like you are CAPABLE of conceptualizing what all of that would do when confronted with someone from the diaspora who "doesn't understand why the aloha spirit is dead in the islands". right. like you can SEE&HEAR how it sounds when you say the nonhawaiian people&legacy of the colonizers that tried to obliterate your ancestors are the only ones who make you feel hawaiian now that they as a group have successfully taken up the primary position on what makes a good hawaiian. right. like you KNOW why there's even a push to properly exemplify kānaka maoli after literally hundreds of years of our people having to save us from cultural obliteration, &that the push to be a "real hawaiian" definitely didn't start with us, the people who you are trying to reconnect to&identify with. right.

like, i get feeling like the expectations are too high-- there isn't any right way to be kānaka, &there are most definitely kānaka who are shitty about that-- but coming back with, "BUT THE HAOLES VALIDATE MY HAWAIIAN-NESS" is just fucking WILD, like i don't know how to explain to you the haoles thinking they have a right to validate fucking anything in relation to us&our struggle&our people is just...

blood doesn't matter, but obviously not in the way you seem to think, lmao.

[demarogue]

Gettin' Through the Holidays Mental Health Tricks

If y'all are anything like me, this time of year is triggering AF. Here are some small, very easy grounding exercises that I was taught by my therapist, basically in order of how much I like them for this rage-inducing season. You make like them in a different order, depending on your rage-to-despair ratio.

Push a wall: literally go up to a wall and try to push it over. Really try. I promise you won't push it over, but give it your best shot. Try to hold it as long as you can, and then take a breather and assess whether you need to repeat. Why it works: This is a quick, physical expulsion of the fight-or-flight feeling. It's a bit like punching a wall, but without the potential to hurt yourself/look scary/damage things. You can even do it in front of people and say you're stretching, they'll never know (unless the wall actually falls down, but this will not happen, I assure you).

Shake like a dog: Animals shake to release stress, and you are also an animal. Setting aside time to just shake it out, as vigorously as you can, arms and legs, face, stick your tongue out, pretend you're shaking like a wet dog. You can dance instead, if that feels better, and you can do this to music, but basically the more unhinged you can be, the better. If you are in a place you can scream, scream too! Why it works: like the above, this is a release of pent-up stress and anxiety. Especially if your rage-to-woe ratio is high, some kind of physical exertion is often the best way to burn through the cortisol and adrenaline you're building up.

Bilateral Tapping: Cross your arms over your chest so that your fingertips are at your shoulders, and slowly tap, one hand at a time, back and forth, for about a minute. Breathe slowly. Why it works: This is weird as hell, but because this engages both sides of your brain, it helps override the activity of the amygdala, which is the part of your brain that Makes The Fear. If you're being literally triggered in a situation, i.e. you're having a trauma response, or reliving some family trauma, this is a good one.

Box Breathing: From a comfortable position (can really be seated, laying down or standing), inhale slowly for a count of 4, hold for a count of 4, exhale for a count of 4, hold for a count of 4, then repeat. You can do it for shorter counts or longer counts, but if you vary the counts make sure the exhale is longer than the inhale. You can close your eyes or leave them open. Why it works: This exercise helps you move from a sympathetic (activated) nervous system response to a parasympathetic (balanced) response. I do this one every day, and it's a good gateway to meditation. Especially helpful in anxious or tense situations, but I find if I'm very triggered I need one of the other ones first, or it can make anxiety worse. Breathwork is amazing but not usually as a first exercise if you're very activated, or have been activated a long time.

Ice: Lots of ways to do this one – hands in cold water for 30 seconds, ice pack on the back of your neck, dip your entire face into a bowl of ice water (this one's the most effective). Why it works: I kinda think this is hilarious, but this activates your mammalian dive reflex. It immediately slows your heart-rate, so if you are feeling your blood pressure and heart rate rising, this one is very good. The only reason this one's at the bottom of my list is because I hate being cold.

I wish you all a very get-through-the-holidays-without-hurting-yourself. Take time alone if you need it.

[acourtofquestions]

KINGDOM OF ASH (by SJM)

Chapter 48

THE FAMILY REUINION🥹😆😭🫶& MY SOULLL

But when they reached Princess Hasar's battle tent, when they had all gathered around a map of Anielle, they had only a few minutes of discussion before they were interrupted. By the person Chaol least expected to walk through the flaps.

A moment later, Chaol was glad he was sitting down.

Nesryn breathed, "Holy gods."

Chaol was inclined to agree as Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, and several others entered the tent.

They were mud-splattered, the Queen of Terrasen's braided hair far longer than Chaol had last seen. And her eyes ... Not the soft, yet fiery gaze. But something older. Wearier.

Chaol shot to his feet. "I thought you were in Terrasen," he blurted. All the reports had confirmed it. Yet here she stood, no army in sight.

Three Fae males-towering warriors as broad and muscled as Rowan—had entered, along with a delicate, dark-haired human woman.

But Aelin was only staring at him. Staring and staring at him.

No one spoke as tears began sliding down her face. Not at his being here, Chaol realized as he took up his cane and limped toward Aelin.

But at him. Standing. Walking.

The young queen let out a broken laugh of joy and flung her arms around his neck. Pain lanced down his spine at the impact, but Chaol held her right back, every question fading from his tongue.

Aelin was shaking as she pulled away. "I knew you would," she breathed, gazing down his body, to his feet, then up again. "I knew you'd do it."

"Not alone," he said thickly. Chaol swallowed, releasing Aelin to extend an arm behind him. To the woman he knew stood there, a hand over the locket at her neck.

Perhaps Aelin would not remember, perhaps their encounter years ago had meant nothing to her at all, but Chaol drew Yrene forward. "Aelin, allow me to introduce"

"Yrene Towers," the queen breathed as his wife stepped to his side.

The two women stared at each other.

Yrene's mouth quivered as she opened the silver locket and pulled out a piece of paper. Hands trembling, she extended it to the queen. Aelin's own hands shook as she accepted the scrap.

"Thank you," Yrene whispered.

Chaol supposed it was all that really needed to be said.

Aelin unfolded the paper, reading the note she'd written, seeing the lines from the hundreds of foldings and rereadings these past few years.

"I went to the Torre," Yrene said, her voice cracking. "I took the money you gave me, and went to the Torre. And I became the heir apparent to the Healer on High. And now I have come back, to do what I can. I taught every healer I could the lessons you showed me that night, about self-defense. I didn't waste it-not a coin you gave me, or a moment of the time, the life you bought me." Tears were rolling and rolling down Yrene's face. "I didn't waste any of it."

Aelin closed her eyes, smiling through her own tears, and when she opened them, she took Yrene's shaking hands. "Now it is my turn to thank you." But Aelin's gaze fell upon the wedding band on Yrene's finger, and when she glanced to Chaol, he grinned.

"No longer Yrene Towers," Chaol said softly, "but Yrene Westfall."

Aelin let out one of those choked, joyous laughs, and Rowan stepped up to her side.

Yrene's head tilted back to take in the warrior's full height, her eyes widening-not only at Rowan's size, but at the pointed ears, the slightly elongated canines and tattoo. Aelin said, "Then let me introduce you, Lady Westfall, to my own husband, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius."

For that was indeed a wedding band on the queen's finger, the emerald mud-splattered but bright. On Rowan's own hand, a gold-and-ruby ring gleamed.

"My mate," Aelin added, fluttering her lashes at the Fae male. Rowan rolled his eyes, yet couldn't entirely contain his smile as he inclined his head to Yrene.

Yrene bowed, but Aelin snorted. "None of that, please. It'll go right to his immortal head." Her grin softened as Yrene blushed, and Aelin held up the scrap of paper. "May I keep this?" She eyed Yrene's locket. "Or does it go in there?"

Yrene folded the queen's fingers around the paper. "It is yours, as it always was. A piece of your bravery that helped me find my own."

Aelin shook her head, as if to dismiss the claim.

But Yrene squeezed Aelin's closed hand. "It gave me courage, the words you wrote. Every mile I traveled, every long hour I studied and worked, it gave me courage. I thank you for that, too."

Aelin swallowed hard, and Chaol took that as excuse enough to sit again, his back giving a grateful tinge. He said to the queen, "There is another person responsible for this army being here." He gestured to Nesryn, the woman already smiling at the queen. "The rukhin you see, the army gathered, is as much because of Nesryn as it is because of me."

A spark lit Aelin's eyes, and both women met halfway in a tight embrace. "I want to hear the entire story," Aelin said. "Every word of it." Nesryn's subdued smile widened. "So you shall. But later." Aelin clapped her on the shoulder and turned to the two royals still by the desk. Tall and regal, but as mud-splattered as the queen.

Chaol blurted, "Dorian?"

Rowan answered, "Not with us." He glanced to the royals.

"They know everything," Nesryn said

"He's with Manon," Aelin said simply.

Chaol wasn't entirely sure whether to be relieved. "Hunting for something important."

The keys. Holy gods.

Aelin nodded. Later. He'd think on where Dorian might now be later. Aelin nodded again. The full story would come then too.

Nesryn said, "May I present Princess Hasar and Prince Sartaq."

Aelin bowed—low. "You have my eternal gratitude," Aelin said, and the voice that came out of her was indeed that of a queen. Any shock Sartaq and Hasar had shown upon the queen bowing so low was hidden as they bowed back, the portrait of courtly grace.

"My father," Sartaq said, "remained in the khaganate to oversee our lands, along with our siblings Duva and Arghun. But my brother Kashin sails with the rest of the army. He was not two weeks behind us when we left."

Aelin glanced to Chaol, and he nodded.

Something glittered in her eyes at the confirmation, but the queen jerked her chin at Hasar. "Did you get my letter?"

The letter that Aelin had sent months ago, begging for aid and promising only a better world in return. Hasar picked at her nails. "Perhaps. I get far too many letters from fellow princesses these days to possibly remember or answer all of them."

Aelin smirked, as if the two of them spoke a language no one else could understand, a special code between two equally arrogant and proud women. But she motioned to her companions, who stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce my friends. Lord Gavriel, of Doranelle." A nod toward the tawny-eyed and golden-haired warrior who bowed.

Tattoos covered his neck, his hands, but his every motion was graceful. "My uncle, of sorts," Aelin added with a smirk at Gavriel. At Chaol's narrowed brows, she explained, "He's Aedion's father."

"Well, that explains a few things," Nesryn muttered.

The hair, the broad-planed face ... yes, it was the same. But where Aedion was fire, Gavriel seemed to be stone. Indeed, his eyes were solemn as he said, "Aedion is my pride." Emotion rippled over Aelin's face, but she gestured to the dark-haired male. Not someone Chaol ever wanted to tangle with, he decided as he surveyed the granite-hewn features, the black eyes and unsmiling mouth.

"Lorcan Salvaterre, formerly of Doranelle, and now a blood-sworn member of my court." As if that weren't a shock enough, Aelin winked at the imposing male. Lorcan scowled. "We're still in the adjustment period," she loudly whispered, and Yrene chuckled.

Lorcan Salvaterre. Chaol hadn't met the male this spring in Rifthold, but he'd heard all about him. That he'd been Maeve's most trusted commander, her most loyal and fierce warrior.

That he'd wanted to kill Aelin, hated Aelin.

How this had come about, why she was not in Terrasen with her army ... "You, too, have a tale to tell," Chaol said.

"Indeed I do." Aelin's eyes guttered, and Rowan put a hand on her lower back. Bad— something terrible had occurred. Chaol scanned Aelin for any hint of it. He stopped when he noticed the smoothness of the skin at her neck. The lack of scars. The missing scars on her hands, her palms. "Later," Aelin said softly. She straightened her shoulders, and another golden-haired male came forward. Beautiful. That was the only way to describe him. "Fenrys ... You know, I don't actually know your family name."

Fenrys threw a roguish wink at the queen.

"Moonbeam."

"It is not," Aelin hissed, choking on a laugh.

Fenrys laid a hand on his heart. "I am blood-sworn to you. Would I lie?"

Another blood-sworn Fae male in her court.

Across the tent, Sartaq cursed in his own tongue. As if he'd heard of Lorcan, and Gavriel, and Fenrys.

Aelin gave Fenrys a vulgar gesture that set Hasar chuckling, and faced the royals. "They're barely housebroken. Hardly fit for your fine company." Even Sartaq smiled at that. But it was to the small, delicate woman that Aelin now gestured. "And the only civilized member of my court, Lady Elide Lochan of Perranth." Perranth. Chaol had combed through the family trees of Terrasen just this winter, had seen the lists of so many royal households crossed out, victim to the conquest ten years ago.

Elide's name had been among them.

Another Terrasen royal who had managed to evade Adarlan's butchers.

The pretty young woman took a limping step forward, and bobbed a curtsy to the royals. Her boots concealed any sign of the source of the injury, but Yrene's attention shot right to her leg. Her ankle. "It's an honor to meet all of you," Elide said, her voice low and steady. Her dark eyes swept over them, cunning and clear. Like she could see beneath their skin and bones, to the souls beneath.

Aelin wiped her hands. "Well, that's over and done with," she announced, and strode to the desk and map. "Shall we discuss where you all plan to march once we beat the living shit out of this army?"

[kbwrites]

The Lord's Favorite CH.2

synopsis: "He was both a monstrous force of vengeance and your savior, intertwined in a tempest of passion and fury.."

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⚝content: trueform!Sukuna x fem! reader, slightly suggestive, mentions of blood and gore

⚝wc: 1.5k

⚝a/n: I'm still shocked this got as much attention as it did! Thank you for reading, I hope this next part pleases you.

“Please, do your best to remain still,” Uraume chides gently. They press the cotton swab soaked in alcohol to your face, the stinging sensation causing you to wince as it penetrates the cuts on your cheek. Uraume offers a sympathetic glance. “I apologize for this…”

“You don’t need to-“

“Please.” They say firmly “I was aware of the tension between the servants, I... never thought they would do something to harm one of their own.” Uraume’s voice wavers slightly. They move to the wounds on your arms.

The door to the chamber swings open, and Sukuna stands in the threshold, leaning one arm nonchalantly against the doorframe. He surveys your battered form sitting on the edge of the bed—a trace of annoyance etched on his face. Uraume rises swiftly to bow before the king, but he dismisses the gesture with a casual wave.

“My lord, I’ve treated her as best as I can.” Uraume reports.

Sukuna’s gaze shifts to your face, his demeanor cold yet betraying a hint of concern.

“Are you in any pain?”

“No.. my lord and I’m sorry-“

“You are not at fault.” He interrupts you, his voice firm as he strides over, his heavy footsteps echoing through the room. Clad in a black robe with a purple sash tied around the waist, his rippling muscles are visible through the cascading fabric. Uraume steps back, offering a brief bow before exiting, leaving you alone with him.

He scans your face with a piercing gaze, lowering himself to your level. His eyes drift to your empty wrist, narrowing with a mix of concern and intensity.

“Where. is it.” He demands. Your eyes widen as you realize the bracelet you were given today was missing.

“I… it must have fallen off when they attacked me” You piece together aloud. 

“So they would harm you as well as steal…” Ryomen’s voice grows taut with anger he clenches his fist, body tensing up. He rises from his kneeling position, figure looming over you.

“Are you able to stand?” He questions lowly. You nod.

“Good. We will be going now.”

You look up at your king, his expression is unreadable, but there’s an unmistakable intensity in his eyes—a silent promise of retribution. 

You lag behind him as he strides purposefully down the dimly lit  hallway. The evening light leaks through the dark red curtains of the hall, casting long shadows that dance along the walls. Each step of his echoes with a menacing authority. He stops abruptly at the entrance to the servants quarters. Sukuna looks over his shoulder at you, his gaze intense and unwavering.

“Do you wish to watch?” He inquires, voice low and steady.

“W…watch?” 

“Yes, do you wish to watch as I kill the ones who hurt you.”

“I—“ your heart races, Was this really happening? “No… my lord I do not.” You speak quietly. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t respond, opening the door to the room.

The servants look upon him in reverence… or fear. Ryomen Sukuna did not bother himself with his servants, so seeing him generally meant bad news. He scans the room at the trembling help who shrink under his scrutiny, ‘utterly pathetic..’ he thinks. Their eyes drift to you, standing behind him. Ryomen shoots you a sidelong glance, awaiting you to point out your offenders. 

You look up at him, conflicted. Do you really wish for them to die? He scoffs as if reading your mind.

“You would protect them, even after what they did to you?” He sneers.

 He directs his attention back to the line of servants, all bowing their heads in fear. His gaze lands on one woman, and he notices the bracelet on her wrist—identical to the one he had painstakingly crafted for you.

At the sight of the bracelet, his demeanor changes abruptly. His expression darkens with a fierce intensity. With a swift motion, two of his arms encircle you, gently but firmly covering your eyes.

“Do not open them, until the screaming stops.”

Screams of horror reverberate through the room. You hear slashes mingling with the sound of Sukuna chuckling darkly. All the while two of his arms remains protectively around you, shielding you from the brutality he’s inflicting upon the ones who dared to harm you.

The screaming fades, his breathing slows, upper left arm lowers from your eyes.

“It is done.” And as your eyes slowly open, the sight before you is gut-wrenching. Blood and carnage litter the servant’s chambers. You clasp your hand  over your mouth as you fight back a gag. 

Ryomen looks at you, a hint of annoyance for your lack of appreciation. You gaze upon his bloodied form, he was covered in it. He wipes face, turning his back on the lifeless bodies.

“Let’s go; I require a bath and new clothes.”

You sit on the edge of the porcelain tub, adding oils and dried petals. The act of bathing Lord Sukuna had become quite routine. And yet every time he entered the room your heart would skip a beat. He stood at over six feet tall, his four muscular arms and broad, chiseled chest commanding attention. The tattoos that adorned his toned body only added to his already imposing presence.

He strides confidently over to the bath, crimson eyes never leaving yours. The scent of lavender and roses wafting through the tiled room. He lowers himself into the water, groaning as the hot water enveloped his powerful frame.

You grab a sponge, wiping the dried blood from his chest. Ryomen leans his head back against the edge of the tub, sighing in relief under your touch. He’s quiet for a moment, only the sound of the water sloshing around echoes throughout the room. One eye opens slightly to observe you, your gentle hands erasing the evidence of his carnage. Massaging away his stress and tension. He speaks in a low, commanding voice.

“Join me.”

You abruptly cease your movements, looking at him in disbelief.

“You mean—“

“In the tub, yes.” You hesitate, glancing nervously between him and the water. Knowing it was not wise to disobey your king, you begin to shed your clothing, covering yourself modestly as you allow the bathwater to cloak you. You settle on the opposite side of the tub, his eyebrow quirks in mild annoyance.

“I will not harm you.” His voice almost… gentle.

You move closer to him. Albeit too slow for his taste, one arm pulls you towards his chest, settling on the small of your back. The unprecedented position of intimacy with your lord both thrilling and unsettling.

“Are you… unhappy with my actions today?”

"No… my lord." It was partly true. You were still reeling from the events that had transpired. The king to whom you had dutifully bowed had unleashed his fury... for you? The man you willingly served, had been so enraged by your injuries that he had taken the lives of those who wronged you. He was both a monstrous force of vengeance and your savior, intertwined in a tempest of passion and fury..

“Good.” Another hand reaches to stroke your hair, a touch so feather light you wondered if he thought you’d break. “I… do not wish for you to be unhappy.” He speaks softly. His finger traces your jawline. You shiver under his touch, but don’t pull away. If your heart were to beat any faster you feared it might give out altogether.  His hand trails down to your chest, placing his palm flat against the valley between your breasts.

“Your heart is racing…Are you frightened of me?” He questioned, feeling the rhythm quicken beneath his touch.

“F…frightened?” You try to keep your voice from shaking, but it betrays you quivering with uncertainty.

“It is understandable; I could kill you right now.” He grins as his words make your heart beat even faster. “I am merely stating a fact. Do not think of it.” His gaze travels from your face to your chest, lingering at the point where the water begins.

He stands up, water dripping down his body, your gaze travels down his abs to his v-line. He only grins as he sees your curious eyes widen at his lower half. It was quite hard not to look when he was so… big. The screams from his bedroom made sense after you were called to his bath the first time. 

“You are permitted to touch.” He declares, snapping your out of your daze, a shaky hand comes up to feel his abs. He groans softly under your nimble fingers, feeling his muscles tighten in response. He was a work of art, as if the gods themselves sculpted his figure.

You knew that after his bath, Lord Sukuna would typically summon one of his concubines to his chambers. This would inevitably result in several hours of indecorous moans and pained screams, audible through the door connecting your room to his. As his servant, you wanted to adhere to your place, but a part of you couldn't help but wonder... what it would be like to bask in your lord’s presence in such an intimate way.

“My lord, shall I summon someone to… attend to your needs?” 

He only chuckles darkly, one arm reaching down to gentle cup your face. His crimson eyes feasting upon your wet, naked form committing this scene to memory.

“No need,” He murmurs, his voice deep and resonant.

 “I believe your presence is precisely what I crave.”

taglist! (I know a lot a people in the previous post asked for a part two but idk if that meant you wanted to be tagged, lmk!) @haruchi-slit @gg-trini @pastelbunnelby @cauqhtz @shadava

[monstersholygrail]

Vampire bf spooning you in the middle of the night, nuzzling into you so roughly that it causes you to slowly wake up. As soon as he senses you’re not completely asleep, his arms curl around you and he bury’s his face in your neck. Groggily you bare your throat to him, thinking he might be hungry.

But instead he simply whines and cuddles in closer. It’s only then that you notice he’s shivering. A soft “What’s wrong, darling?” croaks past your lips. He doesn’t respond, letting his actions speak louder as his hands slip under your shirt and brush along your soft stomach as if trying to steal up all your warmth. You hiss at his touch, his usually cold skin even colder for some reason. “You’re freezing,” you can’t help but exclaim the obvious.

Your vampire bf whimpers, nodding his head within the warm fold of your neck. “Need your warmth. Need your heat, baby please,” he says in a soft whine, one hand tugging at the seam of your shorts and giving you an idea of what he means.

As soon as you’ve pulled your panties down, he’s sliding himself between the warm supple flesh of your thighs. He hisses in the space of her neck, his body shuddering with pleasure.

Your lips part, feeling his throbbing cock push its way through your legs, so close to where you need him. His tip bumping up against your clit with every snap of his hips. Arousal pools within you till it drips onto his cock. Your bf growls, hips moving faster.

“Ah, fuck! More. Please,” you beg, baring your neck once again. Your hips tilt, craving the feeling of being filled by him.

“My heart, I could devour you whole and still crave more," he rumbles, his hips bucking to catch every drop of your essence on his length.

His hand tenderly cups the underside of your neck and brings it to his lips. You sense the heat of his breath and goosebumps rise along your arms a second before you feel the sharp prick of pleasure caused by his fangs. You shiver as he slowly sinks them all the way in.

The combination of his fangs inside you and the way he slows down the rocking of his hips causes your eyes to droop as you begin to drift back to sleep. His hand massages your plush thigh, gently shifting it back over his own, legs intertwining.

With your thighs open, your bf has easy access to slide his length inside your eager and dripping walls. You both moan as he pushes past your entrance, his girth carefully stretching your precious pussy as he takes his time stuffing you full of him. Bringing a delicious dull ache to the apex of your thighs.

He settles in once he’s buried his length to the hilt, your hips fitting together like two puzzle pieces. He relaxes against your body and wraps every limb that he can around you. Cocooning your being in his protective embrace. Making you feel exactly as treasured as you are.

“That’s better,” he slurs contently in an attempt to speak with his fangs in your neck. Soon after you start to feel his skin warming back up against your own. You smile softly, finally falling back asleep and happy you were able to help him.

Never finding out that Vampires have full control over their body temperature.