#about to vibrate out of my skin

[scvcnofswords]

❛ come to me. ❜ from mythal to Reginleit || @mercysought

It had been a calculated risk, when Regin had made up her mind to drink of the Well of Sorrows. Brilliant and reckless, Regin has always been both, but this had been a moment where she'd weighed the costs and benefits- and for the first time, refused the counsel of her heart.

Regin liked Morrigan fine; for the most part, although there was the prickle of indignation in her bones for the witch's condescension and self-aggrandizing. She was brave, with a good heart, and the love she bore her son was as deep as the sea.

But the Dalish- the remnants of Elvhenan and Arlathan, the ghosts of the Dales whether they wander the wilds or lay down roots within cities... Had lost too much to humans, and it was yet another. She didn't entirely trust Morrigan to share anything it granted, whether it be the language she had fragments of whilst clawing, ever digging, desperate to find more, to know more, to understand.

To find truth, even when that truth was hard and ugly.

So she'd drank from the Well; fully understanding why there was so much panic in Solas' eyes, and praying he can understand the apology, can understand why she'd made this choice. But things had played out as they had.

A murdered goddess' geas. It's a deadline in the same way the Anchor was, a ticking clock over her life and her freedom, though in a different way. The Anchor had stolen her from herself, hurtling her to the figurehead of a faith used to break her people, somehow both less and more of a person to everyone who saw her. The Inquisitor, the Herald; never Regin. And that was without even considering how the thing was slowly killing her.

The geas was a threat of losing herself in an entirely different way, will and identity lost to a mage so powerful she'd been worshipped as a god. True, Mythal had been killed; but beings as powerful as she...

Regin wondered, if such people could ever truly die and stay dead.

Her own power, not an insubstantial thing, had burgeoned, blooming from the Well's knowledge and energy, from the knowledge and resources she's hunted down and studied over too many sleepless nights through her time in the Inquisition; and yet she cannot wrap her mind entirely around the truth of the 'Creators'. The Evanuris. The sheer power, and the scope of it. Creation, destruction, knowledge intertwined and undeniable.

Another thing to lose sleep over.

So she commits everything she learns to ink and parchment; passes it on to those who know how to get them into the correct hands. The knowledge, the power of it- Regin has somehow become more powerful than she'd ever been, and yet at the same time, more vulnerable, more unstable in her position and her own safety.

But her own safety has almost never been one of her priorities. The truth was. Knowledge was. Protecting those that needed her; and those she loved was.

Which is why when that voice whispers in her mind and outside of it in the same moment, when Mythal's gaze finds her in the Crossroads, she doesn't panic, even as she fights the compulsion, as her body turns towards Mythal without her permission, without her decision. Rage and fear both war in her head, a collision of storm fronts, a twisted up cyclone of resignation and defiance, shock and awe alongside indignation and fear. Regin closes her eyes, golden-green gaze hidden from the brilliant gold of the All-mother, justice and vengeance intertwined.

All of the Evanuris were monsters, Regin's memory recalls, as she comes to a halt before the woman with dragon's eyes, biting her tongue so hard she tastes blood. "- Mythal," she says, voice wrenched from her throat, a word she'd not meant to speak, but was helpless not to.

The least terrible of them, according to some, but still one of those ancient powers, one of those who had placed herself at the pinnacle of power.

What a strange thing it is; for there's respect there, truly. Regin cannot and would not deny it. Mythal was a woman who had shaped the ages in so many ways more than even just as one of the eldest and most powerful of her people. Nudging and twisting through tale and history like smoke, lining up dominos for the perfect moment, setting up the endgame of a chess match with which no one could keep up. But the revulsion wars with it, the unease, the anger that feels older than she is.

But she's not a fool, and to let that anger loose; she may as well tie the noose herself, to do such a thing.

Finally, she opens her eyes again, and meets that of the once-spirit, throat gone tight. "- What do you want from me?"

[sorryimlatecapt]

happy six month anniversary to buck being kissed into bisexual realization to all who celebrate 🥰🎉✨

[crowrelli]

rotten at the core 🍎🪱

[hyunpic]

[starrylothcat]

Coworker: You like Star Wars, right?

Me:

[flowercrowngods]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 (these make one big story, you won't understand this part without the others)

day 07: free space a happy ending

Wakefulness embraces him so slowly and gently that Steve’s not entirely sure he isn’t dreaming when he sees Eddie lying next to him, watching him with an easy smile as his fingers tap out a slow beat on his pillow. Steve looks at him, blinking away the remnants of sleep, not quite daring to do anything more than that for fear of it being a dream after all, scared that Eddie would disappear if Steve reached out to touch. 

But then Eddie’s smile widens. “Good morning, sunshine.” 

Steve gasps a little and moves his hand to Eddie’s cheek, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear, his breath hitching when Eddie leans into the touch. 

“You’re here,” he whispers, his gaze wandering over Eddie’s features, taking it all in and looking for any indication that this is a dream. 

Eddie hums. “And you’re pretty.” 

It hits him out of nowhere, the open sincerity in Eddie’s voice, the fondness in his eyes, the honesty in everything about him. The love, open and free now — or getting there, at least. It’s still so raw, though, so new, that Steve doesn’t know how to handle it yet. 

“Shut up,” he huffs once he’s caught his breath, rolling over to hide his face and the way his cheeks are heating up. He rolls right into Eddie's chest, though, and he's so warm, so close, smells so good that Steve wants nothing more than to bury his face in his neck and stay there for the rest of the morning. Or maybe the rest of his life.

The reflex to pull away is there. The urge to run and hide, to laugh it off, to freeze up and find something else to do, something to occupy his hands and stop them from reaching for Eddie. Years and years of muscle memory telling Steve to leave. 

But Eddie's arms come around him, holding him close and pulling him even closer. And Steve breathes him in, remembering that it can be okay. Remembering that they get a chance now. 

Remembering the words. 

What are you doing? 

Changing the world. 

So he tries that, too. Changing the world. He tries by winding his arms around Eddie, too, and breathing in again and again, learning that Eddie won't disappear if he does. 

Slowly, he dares to move his arms, stroking along Eddie's back in slow, gentle patterns, lulling himself into a safety he hasn't felt in a while. Maybe ever. At some point Eddie begins to hum, and Steve thinks that it's just another one of his audible smiles, inviting Steve and the rest of the world to join in if they're so inclined. But then he detects a familiar melody in the vibrations of Eddie's neck against his skin, and he holds his breath to find out what it is. 

His heart jumps when he recognises the song as one he used to listen to on repeat like a lovesick fool around the time his feelings for Eddie turned into something more, something better, something infinitely worse. 

It skips and he forgets how to breathe as he lets his hands travel over Eddie's back, slowly and tentatively daring to slip underneath his shirt and touch his skin. 

Eddie begins to sing, then, and Steve wonders if he's even been in love with him before, because nothing of what he's ever felt compares to Eddie's gentle, hoarse, sleep-rough voice as he sings Somebody to Steve, to their little bubble, or to the world outside. 

"I want somebody to share, share the rest of my lifeShare my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details."

He closes his eyes as he listens, focusing on the vibrations, on the warmth, on the closeness, on how this moment is everything he's never even dared to want. Everything so perfect that he couldn't even dream it up. 

Everything. You're everything. 

He needs to be closer still, so be buries his nose in Eddie's neck and breathes him in, tangling their legs, filled with a breathless kind of joyful bliss when Eddie's breath hitches, too, and he stumbles over the words of the second verse as Steve tries to climb into his skin. 

"I want somebody who cares for me passionatelyWith every thought and with every breath."

You have me, Steve thinks, pressing his lips to Eddie's pulse point. It's not a kiss, not quite. It's something deeper. It's a promise. 

Eddie's hands come up to hold him there even as his voice carries through the drumbeat of Steve's heart in his throat, running fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, making him purr along to the melody. 

"But when I'm asleep I want somebodyWho will put their arms around me and kiss me tenderlyThough things like this make me sickIn a case like this, I'll get away with it."

When the song ends, Eddie's words faded out, replaced once again by the gentlest silence, Steve feels raw. Vulnerable. Open and exposed. But he also feels safe, and loved, buried in Eddie's skin and held there, as though Eddie is just as scared of fading away as Steve is. 

He lifts his head just slightly, enough to meet Eddie's eyes – only to find that they're closed, an expression so serene like Steve has never seen before. Mesmerised and overflowing with affection, he reaches out to trace the line of his brows, down to his cheeks and all the way to his lips, where his eyes are glued for a second. 

The thought of kissing Eddie is right there. The opportunity is, too. But he doesn't. He barely dares to move as it is. But he does roll them over the rest of the way until he lies comfortably on top of Eddie, and tucks his head underneath his chin, finding one of his hands and lacing their fingers. 

"You've got him," he breathes eventually. "That somebody. If you—“ 

"Yes," Eddie says, his other hand finding its way to the nape of Steve's neck to play with his hair again. "I want."

"Good." It's lame; far from what he wants to say. From what he has already said last night. It feels like they're doing this backwards, starting with the I love you and catching up with the slow build-up afterwards. "Good. Me, too." 

"Good," Eddie hums, and there's that smile again that Steve can't help but mirror. 

They fall asleep again like that even though it’s already late in the morning; cuddling and holding and cradling each other, still trembling slightly. Maybe that's what changing the world will do to you. Maybe that's the bravery more than the love. 

Or maybe it's just Steve and Eddie. Steve and Eddie. SteveandEddie. 

I love you. 

~*~

It takes a bit for Steve to relearn loving Eddie. To not associate it with tragedy and sadness and a bone-deep loneliness that'll leave him breathless even on the best of days. 

It takes a while for Steve to learn a whole new kind of breathlessness, a whole new kind of aching when it comes to Eddie. 

And Eddie's not much better than Steve, pulling away when Steve wants him closer, swallowing his words and needing a second, third, fourth try until he learns that he gets to love Steve now. 

Years of unrequited love, or feelings unreturned, of words put out into the universe with no one to receive them, are not easily or quickly unwritten. But every time Steve's breath gets lodged in his throat and he wants to run away, Eddie is right there to remind him of what they can have now. Every time Steve tries to be a little less of who he really is, Eddie is right there to coax him out of his head with gentle touch and a lot of hugs. 

Every time Eddie starts to doubt himself and all the ways he makes Steve the happiest person on the planet, Steve is right there with the words he only has for Eddie. Words that don't get stuck anymore. Words that finally get a recipient. 

~*~

Their first kiss, the first real kiss, doesn't happen that first morning. They spend the first week only holding each other, barely wanting to let go, hiding their vulnerabilities within each other. 

Steve is worried about it at first, seeing Eddie so quiet, so reverent, lacking his usual cheer, his energy and snarky comments. He asks about it one night, ready to prove right that he isn't and can never be enough for him, that all he will do is steal the things that make him Eddie. 

Eddie stops then, lifting Steve's chin with a finger when he's too scared, too ashamed, too vulnerable to meet his eyes on his own accord. 

"Stevie," Eddie says, his voice so gentle that Steve immediately feels stupid for doubting. "I have loved you for ten years. I've had you for three days. Let me bask in it. Let me be unable to be myself with how absolutely and utterly overcome I am with the knowledge that I have you now. That I get to hold you. That I get to kiss you and keep you and... God. I'm not unhappy. I'm so much the opposite of that that I'm not sure there's a word for it. Other than devoted. Smitten. Bewitched, body and soul."

Steve wants to kiss him then. Almost does, with the way they're just staring at each other, breathing the same air —air that smells like Eddie now. In the end, Eddie just holds him, brushing a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, his temple, and whispers, "Let me bask in it." 

And so they do. 

Wayne called Eddie not long after with the words, "Chrissy just told me the wedding's off. Please tell me that means what I think it means." 

Eddie just blushed, reaching for Steve, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Yeah, I, uh. I finally talked to Steve."

There was a very loud cheer on the other end that made Steve laugh, falling into Eddie's side, holding him tight, a weight falling off his shoulders knowing that Wayne was okay with them. 

You know, I always figured it would be you. 

No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me.

It made his eyes sting again, but he basked in the moment and in the knowledge that Wayne was on their side. Always has been, always will be. 

"You better come here on Sunday, and bring Robin and Chrissy, too." 

"Robs and Chrissy?" Eddie asked. 

"Oh, you're in for a treat. I'll see your asses on Sunday, boys." 

And with that, he hung up. Steve immediately went to call Robin, hopeful and giddy with Wayne's implication, knowing that Chrissy was Robin's person just like Eddie was his. 

"She loves me," Robin said, on the verge of tears, and Steve joined here right then and there. "She's– Steve. She's so– She... God!" 

"Yeah," Steve laughed at the ceiling above his bed, grinning because Robin sounded so happy, not even caring that she didn't have the right words for it, because he could hear Chrissy laughing in the background, too. Laughing and saying hi to him and interrupting Robin's ramblings and groans and giggles with kisses that always left her dumbstruck for a good two seconds each time. 

When the call ended, he went right back to the living room, where he and Eddie started watching Pride and Prejudice before, and fell right on top of him with a happy, happy smile. 

~*~

It happens at Wayne's, exactly one week after Eddie showed up at Steve's in the middle of the night. One week after the phone call. One week after I love you. 

It happens in the soft glow of the fairy lights Steve and Eddie helped him put up years ago. I happens after Wayne hugged him tight once more, after he pulled Chrissy to the side and promised her that she's still his kid, that he still loves her, and that he's happy to see her smile like that. After he promised the same to Robin.

It happens when Wayne's inside to refill their drinks and Chrissy and Robin are caught up in each other that they're blind and deaf to the rest of the world. When Steve turns to find Eddie looking at him with the softest, gentlest expression. 

"Eddie," he whispers, leaning in to rest their heads together, lacing their fingers and stroking his thumb along Eddie's palm.

"Yeah, baby?" 

Baby. It fills him with butterflies, with the urge to scream, to shout from all the rooftops that he loves Eddie, and more importantly, that Eddie loves him back! Baby. Baby.

"I love you." 

"Hmm. I love you more." 

No, you don't. Just longer. "Can I kiss you?" 

He can feel Eddie's little gasp before he leans in even closer, rubbing their noses together, cradling Steve's face with his free hand. "Please," he whispers. 

And Steve does. He captures Eddie's lips, pouring into it everything he feels and more. Sealing the promises he's made and all the ones he's yet to make. The promises to love and cherish Eddie. To be brave. To be there. To stay and keep and bask. 

It's nothing like their first kiss all those years ago. There is no question behind it this time. Only declarations, only promises, only the beginning of a shared future. 

And there are many, many more after this one.

🌷🤍🌷 THE END 🌷🤍🌷

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae @tuesdaycats @totoroinatardis @ilovebookshowboutyou @musical-theatre-gay @theluckyalien @copingmechanizm @srra @changelingbaby @sassygoop @obsessivelyme @r0binscript @hardboiledleggs @estrellami-1 @bisexualdisastersworld @space-invading-pigeon @swimmingbirdrunningrock @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @oxidantdreamboat @spilled-jar @phirex22 @littlemsterious @captaingigglyguinea @animecookie95 @sharingisntkaren @haluton @littlemsterious @animecookie95 @suddenlyinlove @bisexual-bilingual-biped @jinx-nanami @makewavesandwar @scheodingers-muppet @morcantinon @hexdbog @homosexualhomocide13

god i can't believe it's over. i thank you, every one of you, who cheered for me, cried with me, screamed and yelled at me, and stayed with me throughout this past week. i have no words right now other than thank you 🤍🌷 and i hope this is okay

[franeridart]

Can we know more about Nico? And his face without bangs please 🙏🙏🙏. Big fan

??????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the incredible timing of this ask oh my god !!!!!!!! YES you can!!!!! Because he's actually about to finally show up in the comic (!!!!) so you can absolutely know more about him if you wait just the tiniest bit longer!!! His face also isn't a secret so you'll see him with his bangs up soon enough if everything goes right !!!!!!!!

[yujeong]

Time was at a standstill. Vegas was holding his breath without noticing, and continued to hold it when he did - he was afraid of what would happen if he exhaled loudly enough to draw attention to himself. His gaze was shifting between Pete and the man who was standing before them in the doorway, blocking their entrance. Vegas had never seen him before, but even so, he recognized Pete in him enough to know who he was. A dangerous aura surrounded him. There was an edge to his presence that Vegas would only come across people of certain circles. He was a fighter. A muay khao. Pete's father. Shame coursed through Vegas' body, smearing his skin, settling in his lungs, rendering him speechless. I thought he was dead, he wanted to tell Pete if he could. He wanted to scream at him, I thought you killed him. Pete was the one who broke the stillness. As if awakened by something, he took a half-step back and made a motion with his arms, almost raising them to his chest, but not quite. In an instant, Pete reverted into the pet Vegas had been keeping at the safehouse, bound by handcuffs and afraid of his belt hitting flesh and drawing blood. A lump formed in Vegas' throat. "Have you stopped practicing? Your form is off." The uncanny similarities between Pete and his father appearance-wise didn't mean a thing when it came to their voices. Vegas shivered. Was this what Pete would sound like in a few decades? (Were these the condescending words he'd choose to spew? Was Pete going to embody his father? Was Vegas embodying his?) "What are you doing here?" Pete whispered. "They let me out for a few days, so I came here to collect some money. Imagine my surprise when I found out my offspring left the job someone found him worthy enough of doing to... do what exactly? Yaai didn't want to tell me." He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. Vegas didn't know what he was allowed to say. If he was allowed to say anything at all. "It's none of your business." "I'd say it very much is my business, as well as yaai's business who was dependent on the money you were making being some rich asshole's human shield." A choked sound scratched Vegas' throat. He didn't like getting reminded of Pete being the main family's bodyguard, even though he stopped being one mere months ago. Especially like this. That was the first time Pete's father stopped looking at his son and turned his head to look at Vegas. For a moment, there seemed to be recognition in his eyes. Did he know who Vegas was? Did he care? A snort came out of his mouth. He leaned on the door. "Oh, I see how it is." He laughed, scratched his neck. "I never expected you to whore yourself out for money. Tell me, is it preferable to the path I carved out for you?" Vegas could sense the disgust in his voice. He could also see it on Pete's face. He was too astonished to share it, but not enough to be unable to speak. "Khun, there has been some misunderstanding-" "Don't bother. I can recognize a faggot when I see one." Pete's movements were too fast for Vegas to stop him. A direct jab to the nose; his father fell like a pack of cards, groaning like a wounded animal. Surprisingly, no blood - Pete held back. Vegas didn't know what to think about that. "That was a pathetic attack, even for you." "Get up." "We're not in the ring, son." Pete growled. Vegas could see his hands trembling as he was keeping them in the air, maintaining an offensive stance. "That never stopped you before." "You were too young to understand what I was doing back then. What I was preparing you for." Pete was silent. "The world isn't kind. It'll fuck you over one way or another." He got up, spat on the ground. "You still haven't learned a thing. You're too old to afford being naive." He turned around, and without sparing a look at Pete again, said: "Now get the fuck out of my house." (For @musictooth, whose posts about Pete's father have reignited my passion for this specific concept and for @wretchedamaranth, whose comments on my writing are always lovely and precious ❤️)

[reiverreturns]

a rough draft wip? on wednesday? groundbreaking.

said another way - we're fully on the mota train now girls buckle up

[peachsukii]

Yuzuya is starting a Cyberpunk Bakugo series!?!?!?!

[molten-rainbows]

Preview of the artwork I'm making for the Vashwood Reverse Bang, in collaboration with the amazing writing done by @revenantpoet !!!

I'm absolutely stoked for our first posting date on Aug 2nd!!

[sysig]

He needs so much attention, all the time (Patreon)

[ex0rin]

sometimes I'm just living my life at work and my brain will be like: hey, psst, remember that time Negan said "shit kid, lighten up, at least cry a little" to Carl?? and then I'll have to stare at the wall for the next twenty minutes

[yourtamaki]

i need to yap about shanks and ace 😔

[nxnamikento]

Yeah I’m normal about him why do you ask

[stormyoceans]

https://x.com/SERIESPETRICHOR/status/1852296604130463929

NOT TO BE DRAMATIC BUT IM ABOUT TO LOSE THE WHOLE ENTIRETY OF MY MIND I AM GOING ABSOLUTELY FUCKING FERAL I AM GIVING ISABELLE ADJANI IN THE TUNNEL SCENE OF POSSESSION I FEEL LIKE A WEREWOLF DURING A FULL MOON IN DESPERATE NEED TO CHAIN MYSELF TO A WALL I'VE NWVER FELT SO ALIVE EVER OH MY GODDDDDDFDJSKFSJGFDS

I CAN'T BELIEVE WE GOT THE PETRICHOR TRAILER TOO????????? I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S FINALLY GONNA AIR ON NOVEMBER 23????????? I CAN'T BELIEVE IT LOOKS SO INCREDIBLY GOOD????????? I CAN'T BELIEVE WE ARE OFFICIALLY ENTERING THE ERA OF THRILLER GLs????????? LIKE NOT TO SOUND LIKE A BROKEN RECORD BUT I LITERALLY GENUINELY TRULY ONLY USED TO DREAM OF TIMES LIKE THIS AND NOW THEY'RE A REALITY IM ABOUT TO FUCKING CRY WITH HOW HAPPY AND EXCITED I AM FOR THIS. THE KISS IN THE RAIN???????????????? SOMEONE NEEDS TO SEDATE ME RN IMMEDIATELY

GOD NOVEMBER IS GONNA BE SUCH AN INCREDIBLE MONTH FOR QL SHOWS AND IM SO READY FOR IT LET'S GO FRIENDS LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO