#I feel like all this year has been so far is constant flare ups and not being able to do what I want to lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

redbleedingrose · 2 years ago

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Always Epilogue Part 2

Summary: You and Azriel have been best friends for years after you joined the inner circle as the top healer in Velaris. But with Elain and Nesta’s recent arrival, Azriel has begun to ignore your friendship in favor of being together with Elain. You are heartbroken, and it is Starfall where you will be confined in the house of wind with Azriel and Elain. Everything will be okay though… right?

Word count: ~6.2K Warnings: minor spice, fluff, first time writing Masterlist, Epilogue Part 1 A/N: I want to start off by saying, I am so sorry this took so long to come out with. I am not super happy with it, but it is here and this is the end. As always, please please please like, reblog and comment. I love hearing your guys' thoughts. It always means so so much to me. I can't believe I made it this far. The fact I have written a series is mind blowing to me. I hope you guys at least like it <3 Love y'all so much!!!

6 Months

Ever since your conversation months ago, Azriel had done everything in his power to spend time with you, to give you his undivided attention, to ensure that you knew he was sorry, that he took responsibility for his actions, that he would try to be better, that you were the only one he could ever want, the only one he would ever need.

As the days went on, you spent more and more time with Azriel, and you noticed a change in him. There was a brightness in his laughter, he smiled more fully, more easily, and his general demeanor, his aura, the way he carried himself, had fully relaxed. It had become more open. His wings were often flared out, expanding into their full span and never compressed tightly against his back, like he had stopped using them to cause him discomfort. You had even noticed a change in his shadows behavior, once standing at attention in every setting, slithering across rooms to figure out who exactly was present, were now swirling freely around you both, tracing up your figure and tugging at your wrist, your waist, your hips, your thighs, anywhere they could wrap themselves around, pulling you closer to their master. While his shadows were still alert and oriented to their surroundings, intent on keeping you safe, they had become more subdued, almost less angry, less rabid. Even the people of Valeris were starting to notice the change in the shadowsinger. Before, they had been too fearful of the male to send a greeting his way, nodding in acknowledgement, then turning hastily away to avoid his dark gaze, his shadows a threatening presence surrounding him. Now, the people were readily, openly, waving at him, even comfortable enough to begin conversations with the male they once feared.

And the changes in you had become… palpable.

The constant presence of Az had left with the warmth of his presence, a constant contentedness. You woke up feeling fully rested, ready, excited even, to start a new day with your mate. The bags under your eyes had smoothed into your skin, and your smile lines grew deeper as the laughter you shared with Az became more frequent and fuller. Every moment you spent with him reminded you all over of why you had fallen for him initially. All the things you had shared with him over the years about your likes and dislikes, he had apparently stored into his mind, holding them close to his heart as he decided what he wanted to do with you, for you. He outdid himself every time. Every single time. Every time he took you somewhere, everytime he brought you tiny gifts, every time he whispered hushed murmurs into your hair as you cuddled, you felt loved. You felt cherished. You felt adored.

Decades ago, you had mentioned your love for stargazing, even going as far as to change your sleep schedule to live nocturnally just so you could have the best view of the stars. It was a common thing in Velaris, something that a lot of the townspeople enjoyed. It worked for a couple months, until you were nearly passing out in the middle of training and then Az had forced you into his bed to sleep. He sat across from your splayed out body, legs stretched out with his back leaning against the oak bed frame reading his book, ignoring your protests as his shadows held your waist down to the bed. He didn’t even lift up his gaze from the story he was apparently engrossed in when he sternly replied, “sleep first, talk later.” Eventually the cool touch of his shadows and the warmth that radiated off the male had you slipping into a deep sleep. You had woken up six hours later to Az in the same position. He hadn’t moved besides turning the page to his book, watching over you as you slept. When his hazel eyes drifted toward your half lidded glare, he smirked and huffed out a laugh, “Welcome back to the land of the living sleeping beauty.” The nickname had your heart fluttering, you ignored it as you cleared your throat and muttered back a hiss that had Az nearly rolling in laughter.

You looked back at the memory with a certain fondness, hints of his love emulating through his acts of friendship. And it seems he hadn’t forgotten any of it. Not that night. Not the stargazing. The first date he had taken you on, he had woken you up in the middle of the night when the rest of the city was still asleep, grasping at your ankle and yanking you out from under your warm blankets. He burst out in laughter at your meek attempts to smack his chest, pulling you into his embrace and pressing a long kiss into your temple murmuring apologies before taking the blanket off your bed and wrapping it around you. He flew you to the house of wind where there was a wool blanket laid out on the roof, you gasped at the array of freshly cut fruit, croissants, biscuits, cheeses and bread resting atop it. The sky was clear, not a single cloud in sight, giving you an unobstructed view of the twinkling stars in the night sky. Azriel tucked you under his arm as you settled down next to him, wrapping his wing around you to keep you warm as he pointed up at the sky, listing each and every constellation that was visible to the naked eye, recounting the legends that came with them, legend of goddess’ fighting with the gods, stories of the earliest night court rulers and how they came to be. When you had finally gathered the courage to ask when he had taken the time to learn about all of these constellations, he casually shrugged, mumbling the fact that he had gone to the deepest parts of the library searching for these stories, searching for the different night skies and all the constellations they held, and had memorized each and every one of them. Where they were in the sky, and the stories associated with them. Just for you. Just to impress you. Just to show you how much he cared.

The fact he had gone out of his way to learn about your interests, the fact he spent his free time for months memorizing small intricate details despite his busy life being spymaster, just for you. Gods, he had your heart palpitating just from that.

The next week, he had taken you to the rainbow, insisting on buying you whatever you wanted without any limit. And when you had insisted you didn’t need anything new, that you had everything you wanted, he laced his marred fingers with yours, peppering kisses into the back of your hand before pulling you into different stores. He patiently browsed through the dresses, the makeup, the jewelry himself, picking out what he wanted to buy for you, imploring you to try out his choices and to pick some of your own. When you had finally given in, he had smiled so widely, so fully, your cheeks had flushed. The entire day he had spent, flattering you with compliments on how beautiful and elegant you looked, spoiling you with different clothes and shoes and whatever your heart desired, claiming all the while that you were the most entrancing female he had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on.

A couple of days later, he had flown you out to the libraries in Day Court just to spend the entire afternoon picking out books for each other to read. When you found your picks, he led you to one of the gardens outside, sitting down next to you in a bench swing, pressing his entire side into yours, contently reading your pick for him. The book he had chosen for you had been a lovely, heartbreaking, remarkable tale of an antihero finding peace in his life with his wife and two twin girls. At some point during your reading, you had glanced up to find Az silently watching you. His tan cheeks flushed under your gaze, smiling sheepishly at you as he played with your fingers, embarrassed to have been caught admiring you in the sunlight. You gently chuckled, leaning up to press a soft kiss into his burning cheek before resting your head against his shoulder, falling back into the depths of your book, feeling perfectly content in his presence, feeling at peace in his presence, like there was nothing to worry about when he was around. And that is how Azriel made you feel. Safe. Content. At peace. Joyful. Full of life.

This morning was no different. He had shown up before sunrise, pressing gentle kisses all over your face to wake you. He had already picked out your clothes, a lace blue top with waist high pants, setting them out before waiting on the balcony for you to get ready. As you walked out, his jaw nearly fell to the floor, hazel eyes sparkling as he admired you. “You are the most stunning female to have ever existed, my love,” his lips brushed against your ear, murmuring his tender worship before pulling you into his grasp, wrapping your legs around his waist and securing his arm around your hips as he pushed you both into the sky, carrying you to distant mountains in the horizon where you hiked up a long empty forested trail so you could watch the sunrise at the peak. The pink melting with gold and blue was one of the most stunning views you had ever seen, enhanced with the humming of your bond as Azriel’s arms found themselves locked around your waist, stroking at your belly. The silence you shared wasn’t an empty one. It was utter tranquility. When the sun had risen into the sky, you turned to wrap your arms around Az’s waist, thanking him for giving you this experience. He only smiled, leaning down to kiss your temple, murmuring into your hair as he buried himself further into your arms that your day together wasn’t ending here, that this was only the beginning, how he had wanted to start of the day by bringing you to one of the hidden treasures of Night Court that he had found during his years of work as spymaster.

You spent a couple of more moments soaking in the warmth of the sun before following Azriel down a winding path that seemed to disappear into the brush. You gripped his hand the entire way down, his thumb stroking at your knuckles, your shared puffs of breath the only sound besides the morning doves coos. You walked for what seemed like miles, until finally, the path Az took you on ended at what seemed to be an opening through the trees. You gasped at the site before you, a remote cabin cafe near the bottom of the mountain that neighbored a waterfall. The water spilling over the edge of the cliff had turned golden from the sunrays, and the fresh mist created a cool sheen around you and Az. He quickly kissed your cheek before rushing inside to grab you a warm egg and cheese sandwich and coffee that he had promised would be the best breakfast you would ever have. The cafe had a porch overlooking the waterfall where the mist could still float onto the patrons without overwhelming them, and you found a little corner nook that seemed like the perfect view to the waterfall and surrounding foliage. Your mate finally rejoined you, sandwiches and coffee in toe, sitting down next to you to take in the scene.

You had spent the rest of your day there, quietly conversing with Az about anything and everything that came to mind. Laughter was shared between the two of you, along with openly shared loving gazes sent to one another. To think that months ago, you were nearly considering rejecting him as a mate… the thought was nearly sickening now. Any time you mind accidentally drifted to it, your stomach would squeeze and your heart would drop. Every time though, the second Az would squeeze your thigh with his warm hand, you would forget. He sat so freely. His wings were relaxed, nearly drooping on the ground as one was leaning into your back against the chair. The sight of his damp curly ink hair pressing against his forehead, his tan skin highlighted, nearly glowing, by the sun, hazel eyes bright next to the waterfall that glowed with starlight left you breathless. He was truly, and effortlessly, the most beautiful male you had ever known to exist. And to think he felt similarly about you was nearly unbelievable. But here he was, constantly voicing his belief in your beauty, not as an opinion, but as pure fact.

An hour before sunset, Az insisted on eating an early dinner before setting off on your next adventure. The cafe owner, an older female, who was gentle as she was kind, brought out a full fledged meal consisting of beef stew, loafs of freshly baked bread, and mash coupled with a bottle of wine. She hugged Azriel, kissing the top of his head as she sung his praises, rambling on about how, “he has spent decades talking about you dear, really, I am surprised he finally found the courage to bring you,” and “you are so beautiful dear, Azzy could not have done you justice even if he tried.” The poor male turned red at the nickname, staring you down as a smirk lilted your lips, knowing that endless teasing was about to befall him the moment the female walked back inside. “Azzy?” you mouthed at him, only to have your foot gently pulled by his shadows in reply. The female squeezed your hands after setting down the food, her honeyed eyes gazing into yours, simmering with joy, “I am so happy you are here. The hours this young male has spent loving you is beyond comprehension,” turning to Az with a wink, patting his shoulder before walking back inside. You sat for a moment, a bit stunned by her words, staring at the squirming male before you, it nearly made you laugh how shy he got under your gaze. You pressed your lips together into a warm smile, gesturing at the food, “Let’s eat sweets.”

Despite being stuffed full, your mate insisted on getting a dessert the two of you could share, “It is the best cake you will ever try dove, I am telling you.” The smell of pineapple wafting from the plate had been so mouthwatering as he set it down in front of you, you almost immediately began digging in. The spymaster, however, snatched your spoon right out of your grasp, chucking it into the forest as you gaped at him, “what the fuck Azriel?” He smirked in reply, picking up his spoon, and scooping the whipped cream off the cake, nonchalantly popping it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. You gasped in confusion, but before you could ask him what the hell he was doing, he scooped another part of the cake onto his spoon, this time holding it out to you. You reached up to take the spoon from his grasp, but he, again, pulled away. “What the hell, Az?” you exasperatedly rolled your eyes as he held out the spoon to you again, “What game are you playing?”

He huffed out a laugh, clearly amused by your annoyance, “No games sweetheart, just wanna feed you myself.” Your continued gaping had his expression dropping into one of shyness, a blush spreading across his cheeks as embarrassment began to fill within him, “I– I’m sorry. Did I overstep?” You opted to not respond, giving him a taste of his own medicine for a moment, watching as he began squirming in his seat, this time holding out the spoon for you to grab onto, clearly uncomfortable that he may have crossed a boundary, that he may have upset you. After a couple of seconds, you decided you had had enough of teasing the poor male, leaning forward, enclosing your lips around the spoon, keeping your eyes locked on his. The cream melted in your mouth, and you shut your eyes, humming around the spoon before pulling away to watch Azriel’s reaction. His flush had spread across his face towards his neck and ears as he shifted in his seat, wings flaring at his sides as he stared at you, his jaw dropping when you hummed again, winking as your tongue slipped out to lick the cream that had been left on your lips.

You giggled in delight, a shot of electricity coursing through your veins as the scent of the shadowsinger had shifted into something deeper, more musky, something more delicious that had you craving more than just the dessert before you. You spent the next couple of minutes going back and forth, allowing Az to feed you a bite and then himself, playing a coy game of seduction with the spymaster with your tiny moans and winking. With the last crumbs of the cake dropping into your mouth, you were close to begging him to take you right there on the table, but before you could utter out a word, he interrupted you, a soft look replacing his heated one, “I brought you here for a reason, Y/N.”

You sighed, slightly disappointed at the shift in the mood, but accepting it rather quickly as curiosity began to seep into you, “Oh?” urging him to continue.

He nodded, his scarred hand coming onto the table, clasping onto yours as he pulled you out of your seat and into his embrace. You lifted your hands to caress his muscled arms before landing on his chest, smoothing down the wrinkles that had formed on his shirt from the hours spent under the mist of the waterfall. “I– I hurt you deeply on Starfall. I ruined the night for you– for us. There is no making up for it, my love. But I heard that there was going to be a rare meteor shower tonight that would be visible from the peak of the mountain right after sunset. It is no Starfall… but… I want,” he sighed, pulling at the back of your shirt in nerves, “I want to redo that night with you, if you’ll let me?”

You were, for what seems like the hundredth time today, stunned by Azriel. Stunned by his thoughtfulness. Stunned by his love. Never in a million years did you think he would ever think to do something like this for you. He brought you to the peak of this mountain to watch the sunrise, claiming it as a wonder of the night court. He brought you to this lovely cafe where you spent the entire day enjoying each other's presence, enjoying the openness of the bond you shared. He had spent the past couple of weeks, months, just loving you, adoring you the way he wanted to for decades but hadn’t. You hadn’t suggested anything, you hadn’t forced him to do any of it. This was all him. It was nearly overwhelming, the love he was showing you so unapologetically, so truthfully, so thoughtfully. You could feel the urge to cry building up, this time from joy. Joy that your mate was giving you so generously, over and over again. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just…” He pulled you closer, pressing your body against his as he inhaled, “I hate how Starfall turned out this year. I just… I just want to do…” He paused once again, recollecting himself, a wry smile appearing on his face at the gentle squeeze you pressed into his shoulders, “I want to make it up to you. I want this to be our mini Starfall this year. But truly… if you don’t feel up for it, we can go home and do whatever you want… or I mean, I can leave as well if you want to spend the rest of your night alone, I understand completely, it's been a long day milling about and–”

You cut him off before he could ramble on, quickly shaking your head, “No, Az, please. I want to see the meteor shower with you,” yanking your mate down into a bear hug, burying your face into his neck as you sent waves of love down the bond which he immediately returned with ten times the force you had used. He inhaled the scent of your hair, rubbing his hands up and down your back, squeezing at the back of your neck, soaking in the comfort you were providing. You held each other for a couple of more minutes, letting his shadows enclose you two into darkness.

And then, without warning, Azriel pulled himself away, a huge grin pulling at his lips.

“Azriel,” you shrieked, breathlessly laughing into the shadowsinger’s muscled back as he threw you over his shoulder swiftly, securing his arm around your thighs before he took off into flight, ascending with no extra effort despite carrying your weight on one of his sides. You clutched at his belt, adrenaline pumping through your veins, not because you were afraid he would drop you, but instead because of the thrill of the moment of intimacy shifting into one of playfulness, “We are gonna be late, my dove, we need to hurry or else we will miss it,” he merrily shouted back.

You shifted slightly, turning your face towards his back so he could hear you, your teasing voice barely reaching his eardrums over the sounds of the wind whipping around you, “And whose fault is that?” You gasped as the male landed a swift smack on your ass, following it with a gentle bite on the clothed flesh. You kicked your feet, wriggling in his embrace which he only tightened, “How was I supposed to know you would take forever in eating our dessert, my love?” The carefree tone he used highlighted the ease the spymaster felt as he flew you to the peak of the mountain, night falling hastily as the heavens began to peak through the dark.

You stood with your back against his chest, his arms secured around your waist as you both stared up at the sky. His wings had encircled you completely, providing their warmth when you had shivered against the chill of the wind. He had done it almost reflexively, like he hadn’t even thought of it. The moment he felt the slight shift in your stance, his wings strung around you to blanket you. You patiently waited, leaning into Az, resting the back of your head into his chest, admiring the brightness of the stars and the moons.

And then, a bright streak lit the night sky. You gasped at the beauty, the meteor leaving a trail of stardust that twinkled in a prism of color, the sky merely morphed around the pressure of the spinning rock. And then another streaked across the night sky. And then another. And another. And another. Until the night sky had brightened into an aurora of meteors, the stardust twinkling brighter than any of the stars in the background. Tears lined your eyes at the beauty of the sight. Never had you seen anything like this. Starfall didn’t even compare in terms of the magnificence to this.

“Azriel,” You paused, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, “Thank you. This is so, so stunning.” Your hands gripped at the muscles of his arms that were wrapped around you, squeezing as tightly as you could. He strengthened his embrace around you, kissing your neck, then the lobe of your ear, and then your temple before resting his chin atop of your head, “The depths of my love for you are endless, my dove. You don’t ever need to thank me. Not for tonight. Not for today. Not for any of this. You deserve every ounce of love and affection I have for you. All of it belongs to you. And I can guarantee you that this sight… it does not even begin to match your beauty.”

A while after, Azriel had laid out the same wool blanket he had used on the roof of the house of wind months ago, allowing for you to lay down, one of his shoulders supporting the back of your head. Occasionally, he would lean down to press kisses into your temple or your forehead, or just to smell your hair sending strokes of warmth, peace, content, and love down your bond that was now singing. Your hand had searched for his, interlocking your fingers together the second you found it, rubbing the scarred skin with your thumb, lifting it up every once and a while to kiss every ridge and line that marred the back of his hand and palm.

And you stayed that way, for hours and hours until the meteor shower had stopped, the moons and the remaining aurora now being the only source of light in the night sky. You turned, shifting to rest your chin against his chest, leaning up every once and a while to kiss his sharp jawline. His iris’ flickered back and forth between yours, caught in a deep thought that he murmured out after kissing the tip of your nose, “You know dove, I have always felt so terrible about my hands. I hate the way they look. I hate the way they are ruined by the horrors of my past. I– I torture people, and sometimes I think that maybe the mother left my hands marred because of how I use them to hurt others.” His eyes grew distant, as if he was remembering the sins of his past, the sins of his future. “Stop that, Azriel. Right now.” You pulled his hands into your chest, holding them close to your heart, “You protect the Night Court with these hands. You protect the people of Valeris with these hands. You protect your high lord and lady with these hands. And you protect me with these hands. These beautiful, perfect hands are nothing to be ashamed of, my love. I absolutely adore every crevice, every ridge, every inch of these hands. Honestly, they are my favorite part about you.”

He stared at you for a moment, searching your eyes for any hint of a lie, but he couldn’t find any. A small smirk lilted at his lips, “Your favorite part, dove? I can promise you that one day, that will change.” You snorted at his cheekiness, a small… maybe a large, secret part of you believing him. But there was no way you were going to tell him that. You would, however, meet his teasing with your own, “I worship every part of you Azriel, don't you know that?” You pushed yourself up, using his chest as your anchor, lifting your leg over his to move yourself into his lap. His grip shifted from your hands to the curve of your hip, “Oh?” he asked breathlessly, his pupils blown wide as his hazel iris’ darkened into a deeper, burnt shade of brown.

“Oh yes, Azriel” you leaned down, a hair's-width separating your lips from his. His breathing quickened, feeling his heart begin to race beneath where your hands were placed on his chest, you closed the distance, licking at his parted lips, sliding your tongue across the plump of his bottom lip. His eyes fluttered shut as he moaned into your parted mouth, suckling on your prodding tongue, reclasping his hands at your hips, tightening their hold as you began undulating against him, locking your lips together as the sounds of his groans filled the night air.

10 months

You stood in the kitchen, silently stirring the soup that you were warming for dinner tonight, lost in thought and missing your mate dearly. Azriel had gone off on a mission to Dawn a couple of days ago with a promise of being back as soon as possible. And true to his word, earlier in the evening, he had sent word that he was back in Valeris, but he would need to debrief with Cass and Rhys before he could join you. The moment you had received word, you had moved to the kitchen, ready to eat dinner with your mate and then stay up with him for the rest of the night. And maybe… maybe you would keep him in bed with you, and refuse to let him go.

You smiled to yourself when you heard the door to your balcony open, pushing the soup off the stove, and running towards your bedroom where he stood at the doorway waiting for you. You didn’t hold back, leaping into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and leaning in to press passionate kisses into his lips. He smiled into each kiss, chuckling at your eagerness, holding you up by your ass and kicking the glass door shut behind him. He continued moving his lips against yours as he carried you out of the room, slowing your kisses into softer ones, and then into pecks before plopping you onto the couch. He didn’t hesitate for a second, pushing your legs apart to rest his own in between them and nuzzling into your neck as he flopped his entire body weight onto you.

You laid together in silence, one of your hands running up in the space between the spymaster’s wings, massaging at the tender knots, all the while allowing his shadows to play with your hair. “They missed you,” Az murmured as he pressed open mouthed kisses into your neck, running his fingers up and down your side, feeling every curve, indentation, every part of you that belonged to him. You hummed in reply, preening at Azriel’s attention, your other hand fumbling with the locket he had given you decades ago, twisting and turning it between your fingers, and then opening and shutting it creating a soft clicking noise.

Azriel pulled away, letting out a soft chuckle, before fingering the locket away from you, rubbing at the constellations and the poem engraved into the solid gold, “What does it mean Az?” Your honeyed tone encouraging his shadows to sing back sweet nothings at their master's love.

He stayed silent for a moment, a shy smile gracing his beautiful face, a raw contrast of his usual stoicness, his fearlessness, and yet, here he lay before you. With every part of his soul bare, every part of his heart exposed to allow for you to do whatever you wish to it. He burrowed his face back into your neck, suddenly shy, hiding the flush that crept up his neck to the pointed tips of his ears, “It’s a poem, dove,” his words slurring together, drunk on the feeling of you pressed against him. Your now free hand reached down to play with the scarred fingers of his free hand, his breath catching every time you lifted one to press a gentle kiss into the flesh.

A huff teared through your lips as you nipped at the pad of his pinky finger, quickly soothing the sting with a kitten lick that had the spymaster’s wings flaring as his body shuddered against yours. “I figured that out for myself Az,” you paused, shifting your gaze down to his, throwing one of your legs around his waist, “I mean what does it translate to?” He stared at you for another moment, eyes shifting between yours, studying you, memorizing you. Memorizing the way your hair frames your face, memorizing the way the warmth of the flames creating a soft glow to your skin, memorizing the color of your eyes that he can never find the words to describe the beauty of, memorizing the way your eyebrows move independently allowing him hints of your emotions, memorizing the teasing smirk you flashed at him that had his heart skipping a couple of beats. The words slipped out between his pink lips as smoothly as water flowing through a river,

“Oh my beloved.

You have taken my darkness,

As the light of a bright shining star that is you.

I am yours.

I’m a dark darkness, and you are my enchanting light.

You are my golden morning sun,

You are my silver moonlight.

I am yours, Oh my beloved.”

Every word came with a pulse of love down your bond, a pulse of longing, a pulse of worship, a pulse of devotion. It built up inside you, a welcome sensation, a feeling of belonging, a feeling of yearning that ended in a tender passionate love that you carried for the shadowsinger, for the spymaster of the night court, for the male laying before you, for your best friend, for the love of your life, for your mate. Az sucked in a shaky breath, pausing, his eyes flickering with a fervor and nerves, but otherwise, was still, with his hand pressed into the curve of your waist, letting the heat seep in through the fabric of your dress. The only sign of movement in the room came from his shadows that swirled around you, encompassing you both into a comfortable emptiness that separated reality in this moment, from the reality of the outside world.

Even in the darkness, you could feel his eyes hadn’t left yours. He hadn’t left you. The steam of warm air that slipped passed his lips pressed a gentle kiss into yours, reminding you, he would never ever leave you. The candescence of his voice lulled your racing heart as you reeled at his ballad, your mind dissecting every word and phrase that he, Azriel, had chosen to inscribe in the locket you wore since the moment he had gifted it to you. After another shaky inhale, he continued,

“Every sorrow I carry,

Yanked away

As you fill my eyes with your light

As you talk to me without speaking

My world is in your love.

Oh my golden morning sun,

Oh my silver moonlight,

Oh my beloved, I am yours.”

“Oh Azriel…” his shy smile returned as he studied your reaction to his words. You didn’t have anything to say. There were no words that you could say, that you could even think of saying that could properly express the way you were feeling right now. So you reached down to grasp his chin, leaning down to move your lips against his in a series of kisses that echoed with the love you poured down the bond. After a couple of moments, the timer for the oven went off. And you forced yourself away after another rush of kisses, taking a deep sigh, pushing him off your body but pulling him up with you to follow you into the kitchen. You seated him at the small dining table, resting your hands on his shoulders, leaning in for another kiss which he gladly returned, eager for more. A low hum was tugging at your bond as you slowly moved away, putting your oven mitts, opening the door to it, allowing the warm air to rush against your face as you pulled out and set before Azriel, a blueberry pie. Your mate's favorite dessert. You shakily smiled at him as his shocked gaze turned away from the piping hot dessert to you. You nervously wrung your hands together, “And the constellation?”

His throat bobbed, “The…” He stared up at you, mouth opening and closing as he continued to swallow on the air that had suddenly left him, “The what?” His eyes flicked back and forth between yours as you seated yourself next to him, leaning forward to cut a slice out of the pie to place in front of him. “What does the constellation mean, my love?” His body shook as you took the fork that was resting on the table, trembling as you picked it up and cut through the edge of the pie on the plate, bringing it up to your lips to blow some air to cool it down.

“It was the only constellation that was present in the night sky the day we met,” he muttered, his hazel eyes suddenly lined with tears as he held his breath watching your slow movements.

A tear escaped, slipping down his cheek as you nodded in understanding, smiling at your mate as you brought the pie to his lips. He didn’t move, hazel iris’ needing to know. Needing to know if this was what he thought it was. If this was you offering food because you were accepting the mating bond. “Please Az. Eat the pie, and let me accept the bond.” A choked sob exhaled past his lips as he took a gasp of relief, your own tears of happiness streaming down your cheek as he leaned forward, humming as he stuffed the bite into his mouth, the golden thread tying you together, glowing and singing with acceptance and love. He pushed the plate away the second he finished swallowing, yanking you into his lap, kissing every tear that had spilled past your cheeks away before finally, slotting his lips against yours. “I love you so much, my beautiful mate, my dove,” he murmured out in between gasps as your hands cupped his cheeks closer, pressing your lips together harder, “I love you too Az, always.”

Taglist: @paasrin @positivewitch @fieldofdaisiies @judig92 @sv0430 @highlady-ofillyria @wrensical003@brekkershadowsinger@starswholistenanddreamsanswered@mrs-azriel @cityofidek @nova-stardragon @thewarriormoon @ilovespideyyy@azzydaddy@bookish-dream @nobody00sthings @marigold-morelli@solossweater@rubygirly@hanasakr@ellievickstar @shadowcrossworld @lucyysthings@cameronsails @peachycandy10 @bruhhv @flyingsquids @adreamerforthestars@lahoete@mis-lil-red@his-sweet-nightmare@esposadomd@blurredlamplight@elizarikaallen@tiffthebookworm@valeridarkness@wifeofcamillamacaulay @everyonehatescarmen @azriels-favorite-simp@goldentournesol@marina468@elsie-bells@slvtherinseeker@cafe-inaaa@honeyrydernot@itsonlymemyself-and-i@nemesis6666@thegirlintheshadows101-blog@kennedy-brooke @chocolatecakelargeshake

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grumpybunny-edith · 5 months ago

Text

Gwen's Bunny HRT - Month 1 (Part 1)

I look at my reflection for what feels like the hundredth time today, waffling on how to do it. All the other girls have already gone through all this, and compared to their one-month photos, I feel... Behind. Delilah had already started growing fur in some places, and Edith already had a little bit of tail growing in. Sure, it looked a little weird without any fur on it, but... I’ve got nothing there but soreness. Is it even worth celebrating? Like, “oh yay, my ears look longer if you squint and my teeth look a little sillier”.

I take a deep breath and dig my toes into my carpet, feeling pain flare up in them. It just started a couple days ago — maybe it would be better to wait until something came of it? Until walking on my toes didn’t hurt so bad, or even felt better than walking on my heels?

I feel a tiny impulse at the small of my back, my spine apparently doing its best to wiggle at its base. Am I... unconsciously wagging my tail? The soreness that comes with it matches what the other girls had talked about. I smile, showing my reflection my weird teeth and the pain subsides a little.

“Bunnies wag their tails when they’re upset,” Edith had told me once. It’s warming to feel how right she is, to feel like I actually belong, even for a second. It’s not that the other girls haven’t done a good job of making me think so; it’s just hard to see all of them so far along and then to look at myself.

I set my phone down and stare at myself for a while. I imagine the fur suddenly sprouting up all across my body, shiny and soft. I imagine my ears getting so tall they graze the doorway. I imagine my tail, tiny and fluffy, poking out just about the hem of my sweatpants. It makes me smile and laugh at myself, and I feel a bit of pride in my teeth. They’ll look better coupled with everything else, I think.

I hear my phone buzz, trying to avoid convincing myself it’s because my hearing has spontaneously improved. I laugh it off and check what it was.

raeraebun: Hey girl!! Today’s one month, right?? Where’s the update??

I smile and blush instinctively. Rae and I don’t chat that much, but every time we do it lifts my whole mood. She’s also dropped by my place a couple times because she “made too many brownies and just had to make a delivery”.

wen-kutesuli: Hey! Idk if I’m gonna do it today honestly lol

raeraebun: Aww, why not? i mean like do whatever you want obvi but. you okay?

I sigh. I know I can probably tell her, it’ll almost definitely be fine, and she probably has something great to say. But it doesn’t make it any easier to say it. I’m almost embarrassed to still feel the way that I do even after her and Edith’s constant preaching of “loving yourself wherever you are”.

wen-kutesuli: Yeah I’m okay lol. Just kinda

wen-kutesuli: Wish I had more to show, I guess?

Rae’s response comes quite literally instantly.

raeraebun: GWENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

raeraebun: okay

raeraebun: lemme show you something

When Rae comes back after a couple minutes of digging, she sends me a picture of some random girl with hair like her own, followed by five closeups of a pretty standard human ear.

raeraebun: so like

raeraebun: this was from january last year

raeraebun: Id been on hrt for like. a month and a half to the day

raeraebun: I had taken a picture of myself every day since starting my regimen

raeraebun: and didnt see anything until that picture when FINALLY

raeraebun: my ears had grown the tiniest little bit.

raeraebun: I didnt stop screaming about it all day lol ashley got so sick of it

raeraebun: and yk what happened next?

raeraebun: they stayed just like that for three more weeks LMAO

Rae has this way of making people smile and cry their eyes out at the same time.

raeraebun: so... be nice to yourself? its not gonna happen all at once, and thats ok. every little bit is worth, like

raeraebun: I dunno

raeraebun: a thousand parties

wen-kutesuli: That’s a lot of parties

raeraebun: and you earn every single one of them :)

I sit in stunned silence so pleased I don’t know what to do with myself. My body wants some kind of release, and I let it have one, laying face down and kicking my feet so quickly and so hard into the floor it probably upset the people below me.

raeraebun: you dont have to, but we all wanna celebrate with you :D

wen-kutesuli: Thank you 🩵 Maybe I’ll do it

raeraebun: YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

raeraebun: GO GWENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!

---

Thank you to @flightlessbirdgirl for helping me decide on Gwen's username and for letting me bounce ideas off it!

#transgender #OCs #furry hrt #animal hrt #bunny girl #anthro #my writing #Gwen #Rae #HRT #transitioning #species tf #slow tf #species hrt #The Bunny Burrow

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hindulivesmatter · 10 months ago

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I am a proud hindu so i was angry about what happened to kashmiri hindus. but after reading up on it and the history of kashmir in general, one thing is really obvious: india failed kashmir (all of them not just hindus). It’s why I support their right to self-determination. I am based in America and I know several punjabis here who don’t consider themselves indian because their family/community was directly impacted by the 1984 anti sikh pogroms. ig i’m saying india has failed a lot of people (esp minorities) so if we are not from their ethnic group, we don’t get to selfishly claim them or impose our will on them. like i’m a kannadiga and i hate the imposition of hindi in my home state and while this is not even slightly comparable to the violence and trauma faced by kashmiris, punjabis and other groups, i would hate for a non-kannadiga (esp a hindi speaker) telling me how to feel and having the final say in the matter so kashmiri self determination just makes sense to me.

this just my two cents hope this didn’t sound rude because that’s not my intention.

I know you didn't mean to be rude here, but what you're saying is actually really out of touch.

I hope you're aware of what happened in Kashmir to Kashmiri pandits. Pakistan has dreamed of Kashmir since it was formed. That's why they wrongfully attacked India the first time, securing only POK which sadly was due to the UN, and weak Indian political power. Since then, they have infiltrated our country, and approximately 300,000 Kashmiri Pandits are reported to have left the region due to constant persecution from the Jammu Kashmir Liberation Front (JKLF) and other militant groups, like Hizbul-Mujahideen (HM). In 1989, radical Islamists initiated an insurgency, fueled by covert support from Pakistan.

The party at the time did its best to hide this, and stifle it as much as possible, this got an ounce of coverage and light when The Kashmir Files was released

Hindus have 5000 years of recorded history with the land, that Islamists claim has “always been Muslim land”. "Kashmir" is literally named after Rishi Kashyap, if you're aware. On 19, January 1990 mosques blared out the infamous "convert leave or die" and finished their mission of converting the entirety of Kashmir to an Islamic state. Our pandits were told to leave their wives and daughters behind if they wanted to escape alive.

They're still living like refugees in their country, and now thanks to the scrapping of sec 370, things have taken a turn for the better.

Many Muslims of Kashmir still retain their Hindu surname. It was a deliberate attempt to wipe Hindus out that Islamists achieved and now THAT'S the free Kashmir they want, this slogan isn't promising actual Kashmiris that were displaced from their homes back, this slogan is furthering the agenda to chew Kashmir off India's map - the one true dream.

A similar approach is taken by Khalistanis, they aren't asking for Lahore, you know, the capital of Maharaja Ranjeet Singh, they're demanding INDIA to give Punjab away. They are funded by Pakistan as well that's why they can't say anything about Sikh treatment in Pakistan. That's why they can't say anything about Gurudwaras converted to garbage bins. You obviously, being far away, aren't aware of what's going beneath the surface, they have vandalized various Hindu Temples.

They take the name of their Guru who sacrificed his life for India, while they stomp on the flag of India.

In theory, I guess it sounds easy to say "Well, disagreements are flaring up, so let's just split and give them their own thing". But this isn't how it works. Compromise and collaboration is how decisions are made in a democracy. This is our motherland, the last time we split was painful as fuck. The only reason India didn't fall apart after Independence is because of the formation of linguistic states.

I lived in Bangalore for the majority of my childhood, and I left 2 years before the entire language debacle began. I don't know if you know, but now Kannadigas are getting violent if anyone speaks Hindi. They demand you to speak in Kannada even if you don't know how.

You're based in America, so I'm not holding this against you, but I'm begging you, please do more research.

[Exhibit 82]

#long read #special thank you to @magic-coffee for help and sources #hinduphobia #hindulivesmatter #kashmir #hindublr #anon asks #answered

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creative-caramel-coffee · 1 year ago

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Hihi! currently dealing with a bout of bad chronic pain and it got me thinking.

Any chance to get a hall mom Thornhill and platonic student reader who has chronic pain. Hurt / all comfort lol.

thornhill makes something to ease the pain using some of her plants in the greenhouse? And maybe she specifically started growing the plants once she learned one of her students suffered from chronic pain?

Please and thank you! Also feel free to change anything up!

Much love from the frog king🐸

Exam Season

Pairings: Thornhill x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 1.6K

Summary: Reader has been in some pain and finally finds a solution.

TW: mentions of drugs, chronic pain, mentions of addiction, mentions of alcohol

A/n I had so much fun with this one. I did a lot of research through my old medical textbooks so most of it is hopefully accurate.

It was exam season which meant pain, both from studying and well … the chronic kind. And just because you were used to it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. Because it did. Badly.

There were a few things that caused pain flare ups for you ever since the car accident you were in a few years ago. Of course, one of the two was stress which was assured with exam season and the second was disrupted sleep patterns and with all the late-night study sessions that was another thing you could check off the mental triggers list. But it's not like you couldn’t study. You needed to. You prided yourself on it. Your family name was all you had left of your parents. They, unlike you did not survive the crash. So you used the fear of being nobody with no home as a drive, to work. To be someone worth something.

The light was on in your dorm once again as Ms Thornhill made the rounds before going to bed herself. Ophelia hall had few rooms where there was only one student. You had been lucky enough to be one of them. So she knew you were awake. But the light had been on four nights in a row now. Surely that was getting a little bit excessive. She made mental note to ask you about it later in her class, she knew you were a responsible student and as you were old enough to make your own decisions, she trusted you to make good ones at that.

It must have been around two am before you actually got to sleep. The next morning the pain was so much worse. You dragged yourself out of bed in hope that a hot shower would relax the muscles in your neck. You stood and lazily made your way to the ensuite, mentally thanking whoever was in charge of the roomie situation that you simply didn’t have one.

After a shower that seemed to have little to no effect at all on the stupid amount of pain you were in you dressed slowly and grabbed breakfast before heading to botany.

You had no meds for the pain, Panadol never touched the level of chronic pain you were in. High dose stuff made you nervous, you didn’t want to get addicted at such a young age. But you also couldn’t ask for help without exposing the fact you had nobody at home to get you anything.

You made it a point to avoid the infirmary, opting to look out for yourself.

When you had signed up for nevermore yourself, you had faked your parents' signatures based off some old documents you found in your father's study. You had guarded that secret with your life.

Every parent's weekend you simply said they lived far away which was why you stayed on the grounds during breaks, not because you hated the empty house you would eventually have to go home to. So no, you didn’t risk seeing the nurse.

Taking your seat in the room you were slouching badly, trying to ease the pain by loosening the muscles. Every once in a while, you would roll your shoulders to try and get a temporary reprieve in the constant gnawing on your sanity. After a bit you gave up on the worksheet all together and put your head down on the desk trying to get comfortable, or at least as comfortable as possible in that moment.

You jumped when you felt a hand make contact with your back gently. Looking up with bleary eyes, glazed with pain, you saw the concerned face of Ms Thornhill looking down at you.

“Honey are you ok?” She asked already knowing the answer, she was biting her bottom lip, usually you were veery composed so she knew it was something bad.

“Im fine Ms Thornhill.” You said sounding slightly strained.

“Darling I’m your dorm mom right now, call my Marilyn sweetie.” She said and began rubbing circles on your back. You relaxed under her touch, it was soothing and it had been so long since you had any sort of positive contact. You relished in the feeling. You were too tired to care right now about the rest of the class who luckily seemed to be paying no attention at all to the two of you.

“Im fine Marilyn.” You said and ducked your head again.

“Darling don’t lie to me I can tell somethings wrong.” She said softly but sternly. You nodded with tears in your eyes.

“Can I talk to you later.” You whispered.

“Well class is over in a few minutes so please stay behind and talk to me.” She said sensing that you weren’t going to talk in front of your peers.

When class finally ended you packed up your books slowly and stayed seated as the class trailed out. Ms Thornhill came over and pulled up the chair beside you, taking your hand in hers and rubbing it with her thumb grazing gently over your knuckles.

“Talk to me sweetheart.” She said and you choked back tears. The dam burst when she pulled you in for a hug. It had been so long since you had a hug.

You sobbed into her shoulder, and she rubbed your back.

“Shh shh shhh its ok Darling. Im here. And I’ll help you however i can sweetie.” She said before pausing.

“Darling how long has it been since you had a hug?”

“T-too long.” You sniffled.

Then you simply buried your face in her neck until you calmed down. When you finally pulled away, she wiped away the tears with her thumb.

“Now whats the matter many darling?” She asked and you swallowed.

“A few years ago, i was in a car accident. I got whiplash and hurt my neck. It’s never really been the same since. I know it's not in my file but i can usually manage it fine by myself. With the stress of the exam coming up and late nights studying it … it hurts so much more than it normally does. Im scared to take anything I might get addicted to.”

“Well first, we will need to update your file.” She said squeezing you hand gently. “Second if this is a bad flare up...” she paused and waited for your response, and you nodded. “Which it is.” She said slowly, “I can give you something for the pain. And we can manage it together. Ok darling?” She asked and you nodded feeling slightly overwhelmed.

“Now I don’t think principal Weems would approve of me growing you some medicinal Marijuana.” She said and you gave a choked laugh.

“No, I don’t think I would.” Came a voice from the doorway and both of you turned to face the principle. She was wearing a small, amused smirk as she walked over to join you.

“I had a report Y/n wasn’t in her second class. I thought i may find her here.” She said. “Anyone want to explain?” She asked and you looked to Ms Thornhill to answer.

“Y/n was just telling me how she’s been having some issues as of late. Chronic pain was it darling?” She asked looking at you and you nodded and looked away studying the plants on the window cil. “We were just discussing some options.” She finished.

“And I’m glad you have ruled out medicinal Marijuana.” Weems said with a laugh.

“As am I.” You whispered making them both laugh.

“Glad to see you were paying attention in last week's drugs and alcohol assembly darling.” The principal drawled. “However, Ms Thornhill here, may need another.” She said jokingly. “So, whats the plan?”

“Well, I was going to make Ms L/n here some chamomile, willow bark and meadowsweet tea for the pain. Maybe a massage and a heat pack.” Ms Thornhill said standing and grabbing various tins of dried herbs. “I have been wanting to grow some more of my herbs for any students that would need them, and it seems u have found my first patient.” She smiled kindly at you, and you simply nodded again.

“Well, I’ll leave you two too it. I’ll also excuse Ms L/n here from her classes for the day. Provided you are either with Ms Thornhill, at your dorm or at the infirmary.” She said and you thanked her as she left.

A moment later the botany teacher placed a steaming mug of tea in front of you and you sighed as she pressed a heat pack she had seemingly pulled from thin air against your neck.

“I can give you a massage later, the upper traps and right across your shoulders if you like?” She said and you nodded. “Yes please.” You said shyly and she beamed at you.

“Drink that tea darling girl and then we can see how you're feeling. Also, I’d be happy to tutor you if it helps with the stress.”

“Oh you … you don’t have to do that, I’m sure I'll be fine.” You stammered not wanting to take up anymore of her time.

“Darling I’m offering.” She said and you paused.

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask my sweet.” She said and you sipped the tea again.

It was safe to say the tea helped significantly. Despite being an old remedy and not being clinically proven, it worked really well.

For the rest of the day, you hung out with the botany teacher, and she helped you study some more. Maybe, just maybe, life would be a bit easier from now on.

MASTERLIST

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sitp-recs · 1 year ago

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3 Tacky shorts to read this week

I ran against time to get this post out before midnight ET but am still a bit late 🥲 I know T won’t mind so here’s my belated gift to my sun and stars, my first and dearest partner in crime @tackytigerfic! T, I have no words to describe how much I appreciate our friendship. It’s been so special to experience this fandom with you in the last few years. I love that we immediately hit off and share one stupid brain cell when it comes to these idiots; it feels like we’ve known each other forever and 24 hours (especially living so far apart) is not enough to talk fic, headcanons, kinks, squicks and all other irl and existencial topics with you. Navigating such a big fandom can be really scary but even when nobody knew me I’d never feel lonely, invisible or like I had to pretend to be someone else, because I had you by my side. Thank you so so much for being my safe harbour, my sicko soulmate, my confidant, my role model and my biggest cheerleader!

As I thought of new ways to celebrate your day I tried to remember which fics I hadn’t written a rec for. I came to realize that I was never able to put my thoughts into words when it comes to my 3 favorite short fics of yours. They got me in such a Drarry fever, a tingling incoherent state of emotional devastation that I immediately put away the idea of doing recs because there was no possible way to translate my raw, ugly and chaotic feels about them. I tend to do this with fics that leave me with the so-called hangover once I’m done; funnily enough, the last time this happened - when I read Lettered’s By the Grace - it was you who helped me get that rec out by reviewing it and cheering me along the way, tysm 🥹 now it’s time to respond in kind and share love for these short gems that I have the privilege to revisit every time I need some comfort food. Lucky me, it turns out my best pal writes the exact brand of tender romance that checks all of my boxes. You are a fantastic friend and such a brilliant, talented writer. I love and admire you, and I’m so proud of everything you’ve achieved. Can’t wait to see what comes next. Happy day T! 💜

👩‍🚀 Far Side + Relic Radiation (M, 1.7k)

Draco goes into space, leaving behind his son Scorpius (who has just started at Hogwarts, at least), and his not-quite-boyfriend Harry Potter. But Harry can't stop loving Draco just because he's approximately 408km up, in constant orbit.

“You’ll kill that plant,” Draco said, and flicked a lazy charm over the pot with his fingers so the spicy smell of the lavender sharpened the night air.

“You’ll kill me,” Harry said, and Draco turned his face towards the darkened sky, lunar pale, his profile some stupid unearthly thing—a flaring blazar, a supernova—in the light from the kitchen window.

When I say the heart kick factor may hit you in the solar plexus when you least expect, this is what I’m talking about. I’ve obsessed so much over these 2 tiny shorts with single dad!Draco (one of the tropes Tacky does magic with, they are so disgustingly romantic and emotionally satisfying - gimme T’s dad!Draco anthology or give me nothing!!!) that I came up with a whole theory to prove these stories are actually connected. Whether I’m on the right track or just another delusional reader it’s yet to be seen 🤣 Draco’s devotion to baby Scorpius - and Harry’s gentle yearning for the both of them - does things to my poor heart I can’t quite put into words. Let that boy have his found family happy ending, damn it. Every time I reread these gems I get teared up and wish I could stay in this verse forever, watching Scorp grow while these two lovely men find each other time and again. To make your heart melt a bit more, check the breathtaking artwork by the one and only @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm. I cannot— *cries in Drarry*

🏜️ Between the Power Lines (M, 3k)

For Harry Potter, all roads eventually lead to Draco Malfoy.

In New Orleans, they got drunk on Bourbon Street, and Malfoy danced on his own (arms bare, laughing; Harry could have watched him all night) and later on, so late it was almost morning, they let themselves into the St Louis Cemetery—Malfoy unpicking the lock so sweetly—and walked around until the sky was pink-edged with the promise of another day’s heat. Then they sat on the steps of a crypt, watched over by sightless eyes of the statue of an angel. She looked exhausted rather than sad, Harry thought, and that made a lot of sense when he thought about his own longstanding, dull-edged grief.

The best word to describe this (literally) hot fic is “atmospheric”. T does a flawless job building impeccable Americana vibes and packing so much story while keeping it 100% character-driven. I love the elegant, contained, confident writing, I love the evocative prose and how the mutual attraction bleeds through these quiet but intense road trip vignettes. The scenario is rich and immersive, the heat so palpable you can almost taste it, and the confession at the end is my definition of peak romance. A whole sensorial experience, both introspective and exciting, vibrant and melancholy, packed within 3k. Absolutely genius.

🎯Aim For My Heart (M, 3.4k)

Harry's in love, Ron's in control, and Draco just wants a nice lunch. They say three's a crowd, but Harry doesn't always agree. Not when he gets to be in the middle, anyway.

Neither of them had asked Harry what he likes best about them, but Harry watches them and feels the sick curl of excitement low in his belly, like something lost and gained all at once, and he wonders what he’d say if they did ask; would it be mouth or hands or arse, the gleam of clean hair or the hidden scent of a freshly-revealed patch of skin, blue eyes or grey? He doesn’t think he’d tell them what he really loves the most, and that’s the fact that both of them have been his for such a long time, in one way or another, and he loves that he gets to keep them.

For reference, this will always be the Dronarry classic I refer to when I think about this ship. The way Tacky explored the implications and complications of a triad relationship in its early stages (I am so fucking weak for that mix of want, jealousy and vulnerability) combined with exquisite characterization is so well executed I could cry. Beyond that banger of a starting line (“Big hands,” Draco says, and blushes) that made me blush and squeal in delight, Harry’s POV is a triumph. He’s genuinely lovely and relatable in all his yearning and insecurities, soft and longing for both Draco and Ron. The ideia of him realizing that he gets to be loved by, and keep the two people he loves the most in the world, makes my heart burst with warmth. I can pinpoint all the small, quiet but meaningful moments that made my breath stutter and my heart beat faster. This fic is a masterclass in elaborating complex and conflicting emotions, while solving them with a light hand of tenderness and understanding. It is subtle but efficient and all-encompassing in a way that stays with you for a long time after you’ve finished reading. The perfect triad fic.

#happy bday T! 🐯#ily #Drarry fics

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newhologram · 2 years ago

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10 whole years ago, Cleo died and my world came crashing down. My mental and physical health tanked, with 6 new diagnoses within a year. I dropped out of acting class, and auditions and set work came to a screeching halt for a while. For years, it took me hours each day to get out of bed. I had to navigate disability and illness in young adulthood alone, with those closest to me telling me what a burden I was because I was too sick to work full time and move out. So I forced myself to work multiple jobs even when I was in and out of the ER and constant appointments (like I still am today) when I really should've been resting and taking care of my body. I was in constant burn-out, throwing up in secret at work, because the feeling of shame and being a useless loser being put upon me was so great, I felt like if I didn't "earn" being alive, that I shouldn't be alive at all. I felt completely worthless.

I almost didn’t survive the past 10 years. But I did, and I don’t think any of it made me “stronger." But it did teach me a lot that I'm glad I can use to help others. I'm proud of how far I've come and I like the person I've become. But I don't think suffering in isolation like that or enduring abuse is necessary to make us strong; we should be there for each other, not turning away from another's suffering out of discomfort (that's selective empathy and it kills). This path was like being put through a spiritual meat grinder and it forced me to make a lot of “cuts” to who is allowed access to me. It showed me what my family really thinks of me and which friends were real friends. 4 years ago, on the 6th anniversary of Cleo's death, I brought Ashley and Maxwell home. It was a beautiful way to bring things full circle and that feeling is even stronger now. It's hard to reconcile that 10 years went by because I couldn't see myself living past my 20's in this same sort of situation: at home, disabled, too sick to follow my dreams. I feel like a ghost, or a misplaced collection of memories put into a body and a life that I can't always identify with. Especially after last year, with over a hundred appointments, so many tests, and being monitored for multiple different kinds of cancer while on ketamine therapy... That was a new sort of trauma that has given me a strange mixed sense of numbness and freedom. Somehow I've come back around to a piece of myself that was lost in trying to be "something" or "not a waste/burden" 10 years ago, when this started. Now I can just be. There will always be more that I want to do with myself in this world, dreams that I want to make real, creative ambitions to fulfill. There is so much medical care I need but can't access in this broken country. For me, there will always be depressive or CPTSD relapses to recover from, agonizing chronic illness flare-ups to manage, new medications to try. But ultimately, happiness is simple. It's sitting here on a rainy morning with Maxwell asleep next to me and Ashley running around with her favorite toy. It's taking a nap after editing videos or enduring stressful doctor appointments. It's long baths to help with the pain and playing video games after. The only thing to do is to live. There is no "wasting" when you're having fun, even with these apparent "little things." I'm grateful to Cleo for her love, and for the things I learned losing her as well as losing Opie and Jeremy. I'm grateful to Blue, Ashley, and Maxwell for teaching me again, or maybe for the first time, the simple contentedness of just being alive.

#cleo #ashley #maxwell #personal

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phoenix-nerd · 1 year ago

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So a little bit of a vent, I know I don't post on here often but I didn't know where else to put it. Now from here forward, I'm going to leave a trigger warning for the rest of this text: Disease, Near Death, Starvation, Bleeding, general hospital stuff, health-related issues, talk of death, mortality, etc.

For context, I've been struggling with my health for the past couple of years. I never really brought it up to anyone and I tried avoiding it to the best of my ability. I had no energy and was tired almost all the time. My stomach was in constant pain and I could never figure out why. That was up until a few months ago when I experienced my first flare-up. I started bleeding internally and I couldn't stomach anything. I couldn't eat and I didn't eat for a total of 34 days. I lost around 38 pounds in just a few weeks, I lost my ability to walk more than three feet without collapsing, I was vomiting and excreting blood, I developed a Bartholin's cyst, and so many more symptoms. I couldn't even ride in the car without being in constant pain from the movement. It got to the point that I could feel my body dying. I went to E.R. over 8 times, each time they were never helpful and asked invading questions relating to my past traumas. I even got turned away at the door of the main hospital I was a patient for. It wasn't until the last visit that I was finally hospitalized and sent to a hospital in a different city. They ran several tests on me and for my first week there I was essentially comatose. During my whole stay, I was hooked up to I.V.s and had to get a PICC line put in my arm. I had to get put under and had some very invasive operations done on me which I am not comfortable enough to disclose to anyone. After they disclosed to me that I have Crohn's disease. That's why I didn't have the energy to talk or hang out with anyone, that's why it hurt to eat and hurt to not, that's why certain foods and spices upset my body more than others. They also told me that during a flare-up, I get open sores all over the inside of my digestive system. From my mouth to the end, and because I wasn't hospitalized sooner, one of these sores tore open to another organ. I'm actually going to schedule surgery soon and terrified of it and want it to be over already. They also told me that Crohns has no cure. I relearned how to walk, I had to learn how to stomach solid food again, and I had to regain some weight. I was hospitalized for a little over half a month. I now also have to go in every month to get an I.V. infusion so this hopefully never happens again but it's never certain as flare-ups can be completely random. Crohns is also a disease that can worsen over time so I can't help but worry it'll happen or that my body may reject my treatment. I also discovered that I'm 10x more likely at risk to develop cancer and a mutation of the BRCA gene runs in my family, so while nothing confirmed as that'll all be in the future, it's still a worry for me that I might develop ovarian cancer as my life goes on. All in all, I'm terrified of the future and scared of dying. I don't want to be alone when this happens but I don't want to hurt people if I leave too soon. I know the reality of that might be slimmer in reality than in my head, but I can't help but worry. It also doesn't help that lately my hair's been falling out. I've been distant with people for so long because I wanted them to leave me thinking I was a bad friend than ever forcing them to face the trauma of losing a friend early. I know that one day I will pay the toll to the river Styx (if my family can even remember I'm pagan and to pay my way) and drink from the river Lethe, but I'm scared of Thanatos collecting my soul before I could fully live the life I want. I know I likely won't die of this disease, however, I can't but worry and feel like my world is crashing around me. If you've gotten this far, thank you. I needed to get this out of my system. This will be my first and last post like this. So the rest of my page will be filled with whatever fandom I'm into or whatever fanfic I'm reading. So yeah, more memes instead of depressing stuff like this lmao.

#vent post #personal vent

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lynnaquinn · 2 years ago

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My Thoughts on the current emergency

Woke up this morning to see a long list of posts about mutual aid scammers. These always make my stomach drop because I'm always scared my intentions are misread. Especially right now, with our current need. (I guess this is going to be a full thread, buckle in.) We are raising for a move, one that is a serious emergency as if we sign the new lease, we won't have any way to afford things such as food as both me and my wife are disabled. My mom offered my wife and I a place to live, we just have to figure out the how Originally the plan was to have my uncle with a U-Haul come down, but as my uncle and I are the only two without a weight limit and both of us suffer from chronic pain issues (part of why I'm disabled,) this is far from a viable option, so we started to call around to movers Here is the thing, our lease ends at the beginning of July, this is a huge time for moving and companies up there rates at this point of time...but luckily we found one that reduced cost because of my wife and my disabilities. We will be going into a situation that is actually sustainable though, a light at the end of a tunnel of stress, financial horror, and the nightmare of being disabled in a late stage capitalistic society. But unfortunately all things cost. So I've been verbal about what's been going on (as per usual) and how we saw a huge uptick in people moving from our complex. Lot's of people can't afford the new lease that is required of us. How this looks to us is that we either starve or face homelessness unless we go through with the move; this doesn't even include the fact of the safety risks on us where we are currently living (long story, I explain it all the time in my streams.)As the deadline creeps closer and closer, fear and anxiety has destroyed my sleep...I was fortunate last night and actually got 4-5 hours...the past few nights have been 3 hours non-consecutive sleep...this whole thing is flaring up my insomnia. All I can do is think of the future, when we get there, make up rewards for myself that I probably will never get just to keep me from falling into a deep pit of despair. All this accumulated from being in survival mode for a few years now...I feel it in my body...it aches, I can't concentrate on anything except the move, I'm scatter brained to a level that even I'm not used to...but this emergency HAS to be funded...I'm not going to starve or be homeless again.... So I try and push myself harder and harder...seeing the impossibility of this task while still needing to figure out basic costs...I'm not blind to the sheer size of this task, the sheer amount that is needed...it's almost an eldritch horror to me 4 hours of sleep to wake up in a panic, where my brain is just telling me to stream more, I haven't even broken enough for the U-Haul...how could I afford the option that actually takes our disabilities into consideration... Nothing boxed yet because I am frozen in fear....because I face an existential horror that is the no win situation. Only thing keeping me moving is that light at the end...the fake rewards I tell myself, the narrative that everything will be better...It keeps me moving to that goal while inside it feels like I'm slowly turning to stone; my pain and my cognitive issues becoming so bad that I am having troubles even standing upright...but I must push forward...I hear myself when I say the total...mention the $4k, mention how I need to raise the down payment early on, mention the still need for basic necessities that a fix income hasn't allowed us all the while seeing a scammer breaking people's trust while our emergency exists I'm so scared with everything...this situation is consuming me more than anyone can know just by talking to me... it's horrifying, like I've peered into the abyss and the ancient evil that is capitalism blinked...how can I keep on moving forward? But in the end, I have to, I have no option. I can get my wife and I out of this hell, out of the constant state of no real proteins only starches, out of having to choose veggies for one day or pasta/ramen for a week, out of constantly looking over our shoulders... All it took was our landlord demanding us the impossible, demanding us to gather blood from the stone. Giving us the impossible task or forcing us to face a herculean task of raising what we have to in two months time...But I look, realize that this will be the chance for my wife and I to get back onto hormones, to put out the content we want, to actually eat balanced meals instead of noodles or frozen burritos and bologna... To be able to budget because the difference between payout and SSI won't be pennies in our account. A chance to be able to focus on something other than the next meal...So I hold out hope...but I'm frozen with fear...paralyzed at the giant before me...scared of what will happen if I fail...realizing that failure means a depth I've never fallen into...I can't fail...I need to get through this.. But every morning...fear grips me as I scroll...seeing everyone who needs help...seeing a sea of voices...then seeing people who are using this to hurt others. The shadow of it all is oppressive. I can't breath due to fear. I can't even stand straight up...We need to raise this money, we need to make it to my mom's house...we need to survive. This move will save us.3 years of hell almost over...soon we can breath, all we have to do is slay a giant. How can we even succeed?6am and I'm awake and typing this...my inner thoughts waxed poetic about a fucked situation. But everything will be better once we get there, our quest errant finished. A life where we can do the things because I want to, not because we need to...where we can eat..If you want to help and can, my PayPal is [email protected] and my CashApp is $lynnaquinn We need to use my CashApp and not Naz' because of her disability...just to be safe. It's a lot of money, but I think we can persevere over this giant, we can slay this horror. (copied/pasted from my Tweet this morning.)

#mutual aid #moving #help #need help #disability #lgbtqia #morning poop thoughts #waxing poetic

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jocielynn-blog · 2 years ago

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My feelings on my current emergency.

#moving #needing help #mutual aid #help #emergency #depression #morning poop thoughts #disability #lgbtqia #waxing poetic

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the-nexus · 6 months ago

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Aaaand another shipping meme, for Flare and Seto! :)

@tenebriism

send me a ship and I'll tell you...

who is more likely to hurt the other?

Neither. They are each other's soulmates. They will never.

who is emotionally stronger?

I feel like it would be Flare. She's definitely good at maintaining her emotions while Seto does have some anger issues when dealing with idiots and assholes. XD

who is physically stronger?

Seto. Hands down. Could pick her up with one arm and carry her on his shoulder as if she were as light as a feather.

who is more likely to break a bone?

Flare. Seto is swift and agile and used to having to defend and protect himself. Flare is clumsy and also has a 600lb pet tiger who loves to play.

who knows best what to say to upset the other?

Truthfully, neither. While they may argue, like all couples do, they would intentionally try to upset each other.

who is most likely to apologise first after an argument?

Seto. When Flare is upset after an argument, she goes full silent mode, too stubborn to be the first to say she's sorry. But after Seto says his part, she'll break and also apologize.

who treats who’s wounds more often?

Flare. She did it when they were kids and has been thinking about becoming a nurse because her husband-to-be is a crazy man who gets into fights and puts himself in insane situations. XD

who is in constant need of comfort?

I think Seto. He's had a harder past and suffered major traumas. AND he's running a major company that exhausts his body and mind frequently. He definitely needs the support and comfort.

who gets more jealous?

Setoooo. Yes, Flare gets quite jealous because many pretty women set their gazes on Seto because he's very handsome and successful in life, but she trusts him not to stray. But Seto has little in his life he truly loves. One being Mokuba and the other being Flare. So if anyone sets their eyes on her in any way he deems unfit, he gets possessive and, I assume, aggressive.

who’s most likely to walk out on the other?

I would say neither, but I feel it would be Seto here too. He'd try to leave because he feels his work may drive Flare away and that she deserves someone who can give her more of their time.

who will propose?

Why do I think both? I feel like the two would plan going somewhere special and meaningful to them both and when one pops the question with a ring, the other pulls out their own ring they'd bought for the other, revealing they'd both had the same thought.

who has the most difficult parents?

Seto. Sure, Flare had some childhood struggles early on, but holy shit did Seto have it fucking bad!! Everything Gozaburo Kaiba put him through?! Yeah, no. Seto had it way worse when it came to a parent.

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public?

Both, really. After making their relationship public, I see them often just taking each other's hands, as if it's natural habit. Stepping out of the car? Leaving the Kaiba Corp building? Just on a walk? Hand in hand.

who hogs the blankets?

Neither. They share them equally. And they keep especially warm when snuggled into each other. ♥

who gets more sad?

I think Flare. She often misses her brothers, whom she has been separated from for many years. Or when Seto's been away at work far too long.

who is better at cheering the other up?

Both. Flare uses physical affection like kisses, embraces, and massages to clear his mind when he's down, but Seto buries her in flowers and gifts, though all she needs is just his arms around her to brighten her gloomy day.

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?

Flare. She rambles off random jokes that she's found on the internet. Something to put a smile on his face and make him laugh, no matter how corny or bad they are.

who is more streetwise?

I think Seto. He's been living in the big city and seen the true natures of people since a child, while Flare grew up in a small town.

who is more wise?

Gotta be Seto. The man is a literal genius!

who’s the shyest?

Flare. Seto is confident and has no fear of being seen or meeting people. Flare is not used to such things and is often nervous when meeting new people.

who boasts about the other more?

Probably Seto? He has a wonderful girlfriend whom he's known since childhood who absolutely love, adores, and cherishes him and his dreams. Flare would worry about boasting about her relationship, not wanting to be seen as some gold digger. But she does love to talk of how much she loves him and how loving he is to her.

who sits on who’s lap?

Flare~ Not only is it a magnificent throne, but it makes for a very comfy place to sit while she sleeps with her head on his shoulder~

#Muse;;Flare Ragnulf #tenebriism #I'm guessing on some of these sfkdjghdalfkjfghalksjd #BUT THESE TWO WERE DESTINED FOR EACH OTHER #AND I LOVE THEM SO SO MUCH

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novasynth · 1 year ago

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@noblesanctity : “ i thought it was a good time to pay you a visit. it’s been so long, after all; and we have so much to catch up on. ”

𝙰𝚂 𝙰 𝟷𝚂𝚃 𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚁𝚂𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚁, 𝚆𝙴𝙻𝚃 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴𝚂 to think he is well aware of the sensation of the universe grinding to stop around him & what exactly that feeling means. as a benevolent sovereign fully adept in the motions of earth shattering events… what with a synthetic black hole at his beck & call, the residual power to rend energies & gravity, he was not a weak nor stupid man. the weight of the power he bore was cumbersome - but welt knew his place, knew his reasons and job, & it made him a proud creature at times - one that, perhaps, in his old age had begun to ignore some of the signs of ‘cataclysm’ that had been preluding for the past 30 years of his strange little life. & yet, welt yang also knew that in precisely this very moment, he could be as powerful as the stars themselves & would still feel small and vulnerable beneath that familiar verdant gaze.

it lances through him like a bullet, the beautiful face that those eyes occupy the constant creature of his sweetest dreams & worst nightmares. welt is not ashamed, he stares at the tall man within his cabin with fists clenched at his side, one coiled near cracking around his cane. nostrils flare, a wet tongue sinks upon his lips - & he stares the ‘merchant’ down. welt knows what he sees is different from everyone else - because his memory, his body, is it haunted by phantom thoughts of their escapades… & the undeniable warmth & pleasures that came along with them. luocha he calls himself now - a pretty name for a pretty face, but welt always has known who & what he really is. trouble, first & foremost, & secondly? the most vexatious desire of his heart.

outward, he breathes, free hand raising to run through his chocolate hair, rustling the grey strands over honey eyes. welt then strides forward, brushing past the other to pull the blinds of his room open, & reveal the endless expanse of stars beyond. only then does he turn towards him, peering at the blond through long, dark lashes… & then he simply sighs. " you have caused me much trouble, void archive. what am i to do with you? " a stern but beleaguered tone, " and luocha… interesting choice. " aeons, he was so tired already & they’d barely started talking. " i simply… this is absurd! you were away far too long. " at least he didn’t stomp his foot, even if the statement felt too close to a tantrum for his liking.

when it came to void archive… his feelings were always a bit complex.

#noblesanctity #✧˖* ° ┊ 𝑆𝑈𝑅𝑉𝐼𝑉𝐸 𝑂𝑅 𝐵𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑆𝑇𝑅𝑂𝑌𝐸𝐷. ✶ answered #✧˖* ° ┊ 𝐼 𝐴𝑀 𝑊𝐸𝐿𝑇 𝑂𝐹 𝐻𝑈𝑀𝐴𝑁𝐼𝑇𝑌. ✶ verse: main #welt always going through it when va is involved because he's just mad he's not being kissed

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smp-live · 3 years ago

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The apocalypse happened a few years ago. And- it's vague, the apocalypse. It's not some big earth-shattering moment. It's confused tv reports and impulse decisions and little growing bits of tension until the pot boils over.

The details are fuzzy; it all happened so quickly that many civilians were left unaware of what exactly went down. One day, they were living, and the next, most weren't.

Nukes, EMPs, solar flares - the survivors find it doesn't matter. One way or another, the world ended, millions died, and everything’s different. Hostile. Harsh. Unforgiving. The sun is bright and searing, and radiation burns skin not covered head-to-toe.

People are cruel and will take advantage of anything they can. If you're not a part of an already-existing group, good luck.

Somehow, two men end up on a wooden pallet floating in the middle of the ocean. Maybe it was a plane crash, one of the few still running downed by a stray shot; maybe a boat capsized, embrittled by the radiation. Same as the apocalypse, it doesn't matter. What does is that now they’re surrounded by debris and a shark thirsting for blood and there’s one thing they both know: trust no-one.

So they don’t. Names hold power, as they’ve learnt over the past few years; names imply trust. When it becomes apparent they’re stuck together and the time comes to introduce themselves, the elder of the two stares out to sea and says, “Call me...” And that phrase brings back memories of a book he’d read long ago, in the Before Days, and so he finishes, “Ishmael.”

The younger panics and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind: “I’m Gunk.”

‘Ishmael’ raises a skeptical eyebrow, clearly amused. “Gunk,” he repeats. And ‘Gunk’ nods, crosses his arms.

“Yeah, bitch. It’s...” his mind blanks, “Russian.”

Ishmael’s brow climbs further, and he looks on the verge of laughing, lips twisting ever-so-slightly upward. “Last name?”

“Uh,” Gunk wracks his brain, and something from a history class, years ago, stands out. Nearly forgotten amongst all the useless information - what he calls anything that doesn’t directly contribute to survival, nowadays - and only clinging on through his brain classifying it as ‘important’ for God-knows-why. “Gorbachov.”

“Like... Michael Gorbachov?” There’s a hint of laughter in Ishmael’s tone now, the first in a while. He tries not to let that thought depress him.

Gunk nods, relieved at the reminder of the rest of the name, even if he still can’t place it. “Yeah. He was my father.”

“Michael Gorbachov, eighth and final leader of Soviet Russia, was your father,” Ishmael deadpans, and, frustrated at having been outplayed, Gunk scowls.

“What of it?” he challenges, which makes Ishmael laugh, throwing his head back to the blistering sun high above.

“Okay, Gunk,” he says, and yet it doesn’t feel patronizing.

They both know the other is lying, that much is obvious from the constant teasing and jokes about Gunk’s ‘father.’ But it doesn’t matter, because in the slow turning of the days, they grow close. After all, there’s not much to do on a makeshift raft in the middle of the ocean, other than chat.

Ishmael is handy, and the main reason for their survival. He knows how to purify water and fillet a fish, how to add on to their raft without nails and swim against the ocean current. Gunk wonders where he picked all that up, but never asks.

(A survivalist father and paranoid brother, whom Ishmael hasn’t seen in half a decade. The thought that they’re probably still alive brings him comfort.)

Gunk, on the other hand, does most of the grunt work. Fishing in debris that floats by, diving down for rocks when they briefly dock, and the ever-important duty of keeping the shark they named Clive from destroying their miserly raft. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter through it all, and Ishmael thinks that’s what makes the monumental effort to go on worth it. Then, he wonders when he let himself get attached.

(It was a week or so in, when Gunk had fashioned himself a shelf out of the bottom of a storage bin and some planks, and proclaimed it his ‘comfort shelf.’ Gunk felt the same when Ishmael didn’t tell him to dismantle it, only pushed it aside, even though they were supposed to use that wood to repair Clive’s last attack.)

They survive, they grow closer, they hesitantly trust, and yet, they don’t pry. They don’t share their real names. Not until one day.

Ishmael goes swimming out to a nearby island to scavenge for food and chop down a few trees, if he can manage. Gunk stays on the ship - an anchor is next on their to-do list, and so he’s responsible for keeping it from drifting off with his tiny paddle. Except it’s not well-crafted, and grey jaws reach up to snap at the wood he’s standing on so he uses it to stab Clive, and the tip breaks off. The raft starts drifting away.

“Ishmael!” he calls, then again, louder, “Ishmael! Fuck, man!” But he’s nowhere to be seen, and the current is dragging Gunk awfully far out from the island.

He keeps calling, shouting, screaming, increasingly panicked at leaving his friend, the man who’d helped him survive for months, now, behind. Until his voice grows hoarse the way it never did from rambling for hours on end, and a little speck appears on the beach of the island.

Ishmael waves widely at him, and he must be shouting but Gunk can’t hear it over the lapping of the waves. So he assumes what was said, hollers, “I can’t fuckin’ come back, arsehole!” and raises the remains of the paddle over his head to clarify.

The speck stills, then bursts into motion, tossing everything he’s holding aside and shucking his shoes. Gunk can practically hear him mutter about what an “ridiculous child” he is, because although they’ve never shared their ages Ishmael’s decided he’s the elder of the two, which obviously means Gunk is a child.

And then Ishmael dives into the water, and he’s closing the distance between himself and the raft with each stroke. He cuts a straight line through the waves, until he suddenly swerves to the left. Gunk is confused a moment, before he notices - a grey fin jutting out of the water next to him.

Clive goes in for another pass, then another, and Ishmael jukes him out both times. He’s maybe five meters away, now, but the shark is coming back so Gunk screams. But Ishmael’s head is underwater, and he doesn’t hear. Just keeps going, towards safety he won't make it to.

Clive barrels into him. Ishmael vanishes underwater.

He doesn’t come back up.

Gunk is diving in before he can properly think, pushing past the cold shock of the sea, as he uses his self-taught skills to bring him to where he guesses Ishmael last was. Then, he takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and goes under.

After a nervewracking few moments, his elbow bumps into something and he latches on, desperately dragging it upwards. They break the surface and he gasps for breath, Ishmael limp against him.

The trip back is agonizing. Ishmael is deadweight, their clothes are waterlogged, and Gunk has never been the best swimmer. But Clive is still lurking, and he refuses to drown after all this time, so he manages to drag them both back to the raft through pure willpower and spite.

Gunk collapses next to where he’d heaved Ishmael onto the planks, taking a second to compose himself. Shivering violently, he curls into a ball - he'll have to go for a spare change of clothes. His eyes drift shut. In a moment.

Then, panic seizes his heart as he becomes aware of how still Ishmael is. He jerks up, staring at him, searching for any sign of life, anything-

But a moment later he relaxes, when Ishmael rolls over and starts heaving out saltwater. Gunk reaches over and pats him on the back until it subsides, and he falls back onto the wood.

“You,” Ishmael says, letting his eyes flutter shut, “are so stupid.”

Gunk feels a burst of indignation. “Hey, what the fuck! I just saved your dumbass, Ish-ma-el.” He scowls at Ishmael’s placid little twist of the lips.

“Wilbur,” he murmurs, hands folded over his chest.

“What?”

“My name is Wilbur.”

Oh.

“I’m Tommy,” he says after a moment of silence where it sinks in, what he’d just been told, the trust laid on him, and then lays down next to Ishmael - Wilbur, now.

Wilbur just hums and wraps an arm under his shoulders, tugging him close - which is new; they’re really going all-in with this trust thing, huh? - then says, “So, so stupid.”

“Oi,” Tommy protests, but leans in closer.

Things aren’t really visibly different, after that. They still bicker, still do the same daily tasks, still slip up and call each other ‘Ishmael’ and ‘Gunk’ - though it becomes less and less common, other than with a teasing tone. They finally get their anchor, which means Tommy has the chance to go on land; though he quickly grows to dislike it after an incident with a particularly pissed-off boar.

To an outsider, everything remains the same. But to the inhabitants of the raft, it feels different. More homely. Warmer.

Once, after Wilbur chides Tommy over something or another, Tommy rolls his eyes and says, “You know, we really are like brothers.” He tries to keep his tone joking, and to not let himself hope for the words to be true.

Wilbur freezes. “Don’t say that; I’ll cry.” He blinks once to keep the tears at bay, and tries to push down the warmth in his chest.

(They both fail.)

About four months in, a light appears in the distance, at night. They angle their sail towards it and the dark shadow on the horizon. A few days later, it becomes apparent what it is: a lighthouse.

Inhabited land. Civilization.

They gather their meagre supplies once they dock, then ditch the raft in favour of climbing the lighthouse. And, from the top, off over a hill, Wilbur spots it first, points it out to his brother, who squints-

A Dome.

#wilbur soot #tommyinnit #Fic #enderspeak #sbi rust #crimeboys #Love how we all saw that stream and went #''Yes. Those are the Rust boys.''#Also I can't write anymore apparently. Pain

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camsthisky · 3 years ago

Note

"you’re not alone . you’re stuck with me forever . sorry . ” + Jason and Dick (and anyone other family member)?

“Everyone okay?” Dick croaks as the dust and rubble settles around them. He’s lying on his back, kept still by something pinning his legs down. He doesn’t dare assess himself quite yet. “Hood? Batgirl?”

“Okay,” Cass says, and Dick watches as she stumbles over to him, looking dusty, but relatively alright. She kneels next to him with a frown. She meets his eyes—well, relatively since they’re both wearing masks—and asks, “Okay?”

Dick grimaces. “Not really.” Louder, he calls, “Red Hood?!”

“Here, here,” Jason says, coughing into his fist. He’s missing his helmet and there’s a gash sluggishly bleeding from his right cheek, smearing a trail of blood down his face. He’s also limping, but only slightly.

“Can you move?” Cass asks Dick as Jason pulls out his flashlight.

Dick winces at the sudden light, his mask having already automatically switched to night vision. He huffs. “Jay. Off.”

“Names.”

Dick scowls. “The light.”

“Deal with it,” Jason snaps. “My night vision isn’t working.”

Dick turns off his own night vision feature, if only to not be blinded by the damn flashlight if it passes over his eyes again.

That’s when Jason’s flashlight lands on where Dick is pinned.

“Crap,” Jason breathes.

“Can you move them?” Cass asks, sounding a touch more impatient, and Dick realizes that Cass has already asked once. “Your legs.”

“No,” says Dick, just barely trying. He’s tired, but he knows that time is up. He can’t get away with ignoring his own situation any longer. Probably shouldn’t have even waited this long. His legs are tingling from lack of blood flow, mixing with a sharp pain shooting through them both. Still he’s lucky, because—“I can still feel them, though.”

“We’ll lift,” Jason says to Cass, who nods. Dick closes his eyes and braces himself for the inevitable pain of rubble being lifted off his crushed legs.

“Hhh.”

The sounds he makes is nothing more than an agonized hissed through his teeth, and Dick can’t help the cold sweat that sweeps across his body in a slow wave as his siblings manage to move the slab of—wall, maybe? who knows, really—from where it’s crushing his poor legs.

Something taps against his shinbone and then his kneecap.

“Stop, stop, I feel it,” Dick gasps, bringing his legs up in a protective curl as pain throbs through most of his lower body. His left hip hurts like hell, and his every muscle, bone, and tendon feels like they’ve been squeezed and then flattened like a pancake. He rolls over onto his side so he can bring his knees up to his chest, to wait out the lingering intensity of the pain.

“Breathe,” Cass says.

Dick breathes.

He closes his eyes and blocks out everything and, again, just breathes. His siblings let him.

When he has a better grasp on his agony, Dick finally relaxes. The world filters back in. Cass is running fingers through Dick’s dusty hair (something she one hundred percent learned from Bruce, because only a select few know how much the motion tends to calm him down).

On the other hand, Dick blinks his eyes open to find Jason agitatedly pacing.

“The hell?” Jason murmurs, his flashlight whipping back and forth with his movements as he surveys their surroundings. “Did we get completely sealed in?”

Dick wishes desperately he would stop. Even without night vision, Jason’s impromptu strobe light effect is causing Dick’s head to ache. Instead of saying this, he hums contemplatively. “Wonder if there’s a signal this far down.”

Jason huffs, not slowing in the least. He’s searching for something, and dear god does Dick want him to find it already. “You’re the one with the comms in your ear. You try it.”

They’re in the sewers, is the thing. And while Bruce and Babs have designed the comms system to work incredibly well, even in the sewers, the signal still needs to be able to make it to the system in order to be functional.

With the three of them sealed in this place, seemingly with no way out, pretty deep in the sewer system where they had been disabling bombs throughout the city, Dick isn’t optimistic about their chances of getting a signal.

(They’d just been a few seconds too late for that last bomb, which unfortunately led them to their current circumstances.)

While Jason grumbles, Cass activates her emergency signal and the comms. She calls out, “Batman? Oracle?”

Jason shuts up for the five seconds before Cass looks between both Dick and Jason and shakes her head.

Dick lets out a slow exhale through his nose. He hadn’t really held out much hope for that anyways.

Jason groans. “Holy batcannoli, I can’t believe we’re stuck down here. And where’s my hecking helmet?!”

Cass helpfully points to the rubble sealing them in. Jason kicks a rock with a yell. Dick sighs.

“Well, at least you’re not alone down here,” Dick says as optimistically as he can—although, given the circumstances, it does fall a little flat.

Jason snorts. “Right. Sure, Batgirl is an asset, but you’re a sack of bruised bones right now. That’s not helpful in the slightest, Dickface.”

Dick’s eyelashes flutter of their own accord. He hums. “Too bad. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Sorry.”

“Dick,” Cass says, her fingers tracing lightly over his face. “Stay awake.”

“I am awake.”

“You’re starting to—” Cass pauses. Dick can’t see the look on her face, because somehow, his eyes have fully closed without his permission, and he can’t seem to find the strength to open them again. “—to slur.”

The sounds of Jason’s pacing stop. Silence rings loud in their sealed section of the sewers. Then, “Did he hit his head?”

“Not sure,” Cass answers.

“Dick,” Jason says, sounding quite a bit closer, like he’s maybe crouching down next to Cass or something—but Dick hadn’t heard him move, and Jason’s boots are too clunky to not make sound against the concrete. “Dick, did you hit your head?”

Dick’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t remember hitting his head. The only thing he clearly remembers about the blast is heavy pieces of rubble crushing his legs. “Maybe?”

“Great,” Jason says. He’s pulling out his I’m-rolling-my-eyes-at-your-ridiculous-incompetency voice. “So my bruised bones of a big brother probably also has a concussion. Just great.”

“It’s not his fault he’s injured,” Cass tells Jason. “He was disarming the bomb.”

Which means Dick took the brunt of the blast when it was remotely activated.

Dick really means to tack onto Cass’s statement, maybe tease Jason a little and try to reassure both his younger siblings that not everything is hopeless, because he’s the best big brother ever, of course.

Only, he can’t find the strength to open his mouth and talk. Instead, the voices around him become watery, distorted, and Dick’s head flares in pain.

When unconsciousness comes to take him, he doesn’t resist.

—

“—manage to even find us in the first place?” is the first thing Dick hears as he swims back to consciousness. Jason almost sounds relieved.

“The seismic device didn’t just affect the sewers,” someone replies. It takes a lot of effort for Dick to recognize it as Tim. “A couple buildings partially collapsed, and since we knew the three of you were down here, it was a good starting point to look when none of you would answer the comms.”

“Huh,” is all Jason says.

“Nightwing,” Bruce says, startling Dick from the dazed lull he’d been in as he listened to his brothers talking. He opens his eyes, blinking up bewilderingly at what he can see of Bruce’s face behind the cowl.

“B?” Dick murmurs. He doesn’t move, yet, from where’s curled on his side, but he feels an abortive twitch of his fingers at the reassuring sight of Batman. “‘S goin’ on?”

“What do you remember?”

Right. Bruce did not give easy answers. Life is a series of puzzles, Dick Grayson, fueled by none other than Bruce Wayne himself.

Dick frowns and casts his mind back. “The wall blew up,” he decides. “I got hurt?”

He’s only half sure about that last one, but considering his position on the ground, the throbbing in his head and hip, and Bruce’s concerned dad frown that’s taking over his Batman grimace, Dick thinks that he’s probably on the right track.

“Concussion,” Cass says, startling Dick when she pops her head over Bruce’s shoulder. “Also, ‘a sack of bruised bones.’”

That—sounds familiar. He thinks he remembers Jason saying something like that.

Bruce’s frown gets deeper. “Straighten your legs.”

“Please,” Dick tacks on for Bruce when he lacks the manners to be nice, basically on instinct at this point, even as he—slowly, and with a great deal of agony—does what Bruce tells him to do.

They go through a couple more tests, until finally Bruce, unhappy, deems, “We need to move you.”

Dick blinks when Bruce turns away to murmur something to one of the others. A conversation washes over him, and Dick can’t help but let himself tune it out. The noise settles as vague humming—indistinct and comforting.

“—two, three,” Bruce says as Dick’s entire vision goes white.

He only manages to come back to himself in increments.

There are arms holding him tight. Familiar murmurs in his ear. The comforting sound of Batman’s heavy cape brushing against concrete.

“—there, Chum,” Bruce is saying, and if Dick had the capability, he would have teased Bruce for pulling out both the concerned dad frown and the concerned dad voice in one night.

As it is, the only thing that comes out of his mouth when he opens it are harsh pants for air. Every step jostles him, and agony is his constant companion throughout the entire journey to the surface.

Somehow, Dick is still conscious when he’s laid down in the backseat of the batmobile. He’s grateful he’s not moving anymore, and carefully doesn’t think of the upcoming ride back to the Cave.

He only really starts to relax when Bruce settles the cape over him. Wrapped up inside it, Dick almost feels like he’s ten years old again. Batman’s has always felt like warmth and protection and home. This time is no different.

“Batgirl and Robin, keep Nightwing as still as possible. Red Hood, in the front. Start updating Oracle.”

“Why do they—”

“You’re too bulky, Hood. Me and Batgirl are smaller than you. It’s still going to be a tight fit, but it’s the most comfortable for everyone this way.”

“Whatever.”

“Enough. Car. Now.”

There’s lots of careful but hurried scrambling. Dick thinks he passes out a few times on the way back. He doesn’t remember much, either. Just bits and snatches here and there—His siblings talking to him, Bruce giving orders, Jason being snappy and unwittingly dragging Tim into an argument.

And then—he wakes up. A lot more clear-headed than he’d felt the last time he’d been conscious (though, that wasn’t saying much).

To Dick’s surprise, he’s on his side again, dressed in sweats with a pillow between his legs. He opens his eyes to the Wayne Manor living room, and—yes, he’s on the couch. The curtains are drawn, but it’s clearly sometime past sunrise.

Bruce is sitting cross-legged in front of him, reading a book.

“Bruce?” Dick calls, his voice still somewhat slurred. “Why’m I on the couch?”

“You started crying when I said you had to stay in the infirmary,” Bruce tells him, grabbing a bookmark and setting his book off to the side.

Dick frowns. He doesn’t remember that. Still, he manages to say, “You’re such a pushover.”

“How do you feel?”

Dick blinks a dozen times in a row, trying to assess his body and keep up with the change in subject. “Kinda woozy. My hip hurts a lot.”

“Hn.”

“Think I need to brush up on my Bat speak,” Dick murmurs. “Dunno what that one meant.”

Bruce hums again. “You’re incredibly lucky. We’ll need to be careful for the next few weeks.”

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?”

“Crush injuries to your legs and left hip. Not overly severe, and we managed to stabilize you once we realized you were in shock.”

Dick thinks about that for a second. “Concussion? I’m pretty sure I remember something about a concussion.”

“It’s mild,” Bruce tells him. “It was the shock that was the real problem.”

“Oh.” Dick sighs into the pillow under his head. “I’m tired.”

Bruce gives him a soft smile, just slight enough that if Dick hadn’t been so familiar with Bruce’s microexpressions, he would have thought he’d been mistaken. Fingers lightly card through his hair, and Dick’s eyes start closing of their own accord.

“Then sleep,” Bruce says.

Dick sleeps.

#dick grayson #jason todd #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #batclan #dc #camryn writes #brambleberrycottage #thank you for the prompt and your wonderful support!!!!

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