#and i think. though they're still. poorly.

[coffeeghoulie]

our time now if you want it to be

In the safety of their nest, Aether and Dew spend what may be their last night together.

Explicit, 7k. Contains Water/Fire Hybrid!Dew, discussions/mentions of mortality, medical trauma, minor character death, discussions of elemental transition/Era III-IV transition, anal sex, lovemaking, mating rituals, and some blood.

title from The Kids Aren't Alright by Fall Out Boy.

divider by @wrathofrats <3

Aether's hand covers the entirety of Dew's upper arm. He stares at where his thumb smooths over cool grey skin, silver freckles glittering like scales on his shoulder.

Besides where a little moonlight pools in through the curtains, the room is dark and quiet. Neither of them can sleep, and neither want to speak at risk of breaking the tentative peace. Let themselves pretend that the inevitability of tomorrow isn't coming.

Silver blue eyes glance up at Aether, glowing in the darkness. Gills flutter, breath cool yet shaky. "Aether, if-"

Aether squeezes his eyes shut, arms tightening around Dew's lean body as every muscle in his body tenses. "No, darling, I-"

Dew snarls, hands flying up to grab the sides of Aether's face. He forces Aether to meet his eyes, aquamarine to amethyst. It's the most painful thing Aether's felt in the last few months.

Never mind the public deposal of his Papa. Never mind the sudden disappearance of practically his entire pack. Never mind Mountain vanishing into the forest, gone for so long that Aether quietly fears he's been taken too. Never mind what he knows will come when the sun rises.

Meeting the eyes of the ghoul he loves hurts like nothing else.

"Aether, I need you to listen to me," Dew says, voice strained with the sheer effort of keeping steady and level. "Ugh. Fuck. We don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. If- don't you fucking dare interrupt me, Aether- if the ritual doesn't work, if I-"

His voice cracks dangerously. Dew snarls, shakes his head.

"Aether, I don't want to have any regrets if this goes poorly." His gaze burns, blue flame hot, into Aether's eyes. "I want to have been your mate. I want to be yours, by scent and scar."

Aether's eyes go wide, even as his heart drops through his stomach. The silence of their room is cut through by the sound of a heart monitor, shrill and harsh. He shakes his head to clear his mind, but he still hears Delta's wheezing groan before he can force the memory away.

"Dew, I-" Aether cuts himself off. He squeezes his eyes shut so hard it hurts.

"You don't?" Dew asks, and Aether winces at the accusatory tone. "Have the last couple years meant nothing to you?"

"No, don't you dare even think that," Aether says. He still can't open his eyes. His stomach churns. But Dew doesn't stop.

"You know I've wanted to be yours since the moment I had to help Omega haul you out of the summoning circle."

"I know," Aether says, voice pitching up strained like he's just been punched in the gut. "And I've wanted to be yours just as long."

"Then why not." It's so quiet his ears strain to pick it up, but it shatters him all the same. "Why not, Aether."

The scent of fresh meltwater and lilies and candle smoke is swamped over with sterile, harsh disinfectant. Aether almost chokes on it even though he knows his brain is providing him with another memory. He hangs his head, tries to focus on Dew's hands on his cheeks. Aether retreats a little into his mind.

"I, Dew, I don't think I could survive it," Aether admits, voice going flat. "It's selfish."

Dew's tail lashes against the sheets. They're a mix of his own bedding and Dew's. Something he'd called a hearth. "Selfish? Don't you think we deserve a little selfish right now?"

Aether grits his teeth. "No, it wouldn't be selfish to get mated," he tries to backpedal. "I mean. With tomorrow. Even if, best case scenario, we see the day after. I can't, Dew. I took care of him when he was going. I can't do it again. Especially if this time I can feel it happening."

He opens his eyes just in time to watch Dew's brow furrow in realization. "You mean what happened to Dell."

Aether winces like he's been hit. Dew's gaze bores through him. Pins him and flays him open like a particularly interesting moth to a specimen board.

"Aether," Dew says, a little harsher. Still quiet. The peace, albeit a little rickety, is still maintained. "You think that that's going to happen to me?"

His silence is as good an answer as anything.

"Look at me, Aether," Dew almost growls. He waits until Aether complies. "That's why you won't mate me?"

"From what you've told me, that's why you want to mate me," Aether says. The words taste bitter, and he regrets them the moment they're out on the air, impossible to take back.

Dew shrinks back, looks away. He's close enough that Aether can hear the way Dew's throat works when he swallows hard. His scent morphs, not quite as sweet, almost minerally, like hard water. Aether wants nothing more to pull him against his chest and never let him go, wants his scent to go back to that comforting, familiar thing. Wants it burned into his sinuses so he's never able to forget it.

But he isn't sure how his touch will be taken, so he doesn't, as much as the minute distance hurts him physically.

"Aether, I- I think I'm gonna be alright," Dew says confidently, but Aether knows him. The waver there means Dew's trying to convince himself just as much as he's trying to convince Aether. "Dell was straight water, maybe a little earth somewhere in his pod Down Below. The quint..." he trails off.

Aether swallows hard, waits for Dew to keep talking. Wants to hear his voice.

"The quint didn't take."

That sure is one way to put what happened. "The quint didn't take," Aether echoes uselessly. His mind supplies yet another memory, a ghoul in an infirmary bed, but this time, instead of Delta, it's Dewdrop laying there instead. Already lithe frame gone smaller, weaker. And instead of just watching, this time Aether can feel it pulling, aching, burning.

Dew must notice his distress, must smell the way thunderstorms shift over his own scent. But he keeps talking. "I'm not all water, you know," he says, like he's admitting a secret. But Aether knows this already, whispered confessions curled up together after some of the best sex of his life. "My dam was fire. Didn't know her, was raised with my aunt's school in the Fifth, but there is a part of me that's fire."

"I know," Aether breathes.

"The ritual should latch on to that instead of starting from scratch. I should be okay."

Aether nods, pulls Dew into his chest. "Should," He whispers.

Dew shakes his head, gives a little huff. "Aether," he tries again. "I know it's selfish. I want you to mate me. I want you to be mine, and me yours. Regardless of what happens in the morning. But, Aeth, this might be our last chance."

Something deep in the very core of Aether's chest shatters, a too old elastic band that snaps. He takes Dew's face in his hands, big enough to cover the entire sides of his head. Feels the finned ears twitch under his palms.

"Dewdrop, I cannot bear the thought of losing you," he says, pressing his forehead to Dew's and breathing him in. "It will destroy me. And even that's before a matebond. I might as well just throw myself on the pyre with you."

"Don't say that, I'm not dead yet," Dew huffs, but they both grimace after the words are said.

"But there is the chance," he presses, tries to get him to understand. Has heard stories and rumors of matepairs, Down Below, where one would go and the bond, open ended and fraying and broken, would drain the life from the other until they followed to wherever ghouls go when they're gone. Aether knows his reasoning's selfish. Wanting the barest chance of surviving whatever happens.

"You don't think I know that?" Dew asks, uncharacteristically soft. "You don't think I've spent every single moment since a fucking multighoul survived being pulled through the fire portal thinking about what's going to fucking happen to me? Infernal Majesty, Aeth, we don't even know if he's going to survive."

"I don't care about him," Aether growls. His tail lashes behind him. "He could crumble to salt and ash and be blown away for how much I care. I care about you."

Dew smiles, a little crooked thing as he nuzzles the side of his nose against Aether's. "I'm sorry," he whispers, and Aether's brow furrows, heart doing a funny thing in his chest. "I'm being real fucking selfish, asking for your bite with all of this going on."

"Dew, I promise, I want to give you my bite," Aether swears, trying to press his forehead impossibly closer to Dew's. Their horns click, seaglass against ivory. "I do. But I wanted to do it proper. The way you deserve. A proper ceremony. I know how much that means to you."

"Well," Dew shrugs, swallows hard. "Isn't time for any of that now."

"Yeah," Aether whispers. His back's to the rest of his room, Dew between him and the wall. He isn't quite sure if it's a blessing or a curse that he can't see the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock on his nightstand.

How little time they might have left.

A silence settles uneasily over them. Aether pulls Dew impossibly closer, and for once, Dew lets himself be moved without complaint. He threads fingers through the silvery hair at the nape of Dew's neck, buries his nose in the crown of his head. Breaths him in like he'd suffocate without his scent.

Aether doesn't know how long has passed before Dew speaks up, voice uncharacteristically small. "Starshine?"

He doesn't move, but rumbles low into Dew's hair. "Darling?"

"I'm not gonna ask for a scar again. But-" his breath hitches. "Aether, can I have one more kiss? Please?"

Aether lurches like he's been clawed. Dew doesn't just say please. Has never ever seen the need for pleasantries and politeness for as long as he's known him.

But Aether has never been able to deny Dew anything. Especially as dawn approaches, the passage of time until the uncertain future marching closer.

"There'll be more kisses," Aether whispers, trying to convince the two of them as he ducks down and takes Dew's lips with his. "This won't be the last."

Aether dutifully swallows Dew's sob, doesn't mention the way the kiss tastes of salt. Dew wraps those lean arms around the back of his neck, clinging to him as he kisses him like a starved man.

They ignore the tears streaking down their cheeks and kiss and kiss and kiss until Aether breaks away with a gasp, vision darkening around the edges. Dew chuckles sheepishly, his gills fluttering as a teal blush spills over his sharp cheekbones. A spindly hand cups Aether's cheek, thumb smoothing over and wiping away the moisture there.

Aether squeezes his eyes shut, leans into the touch, before Dew pulls him into another kiss. "Kiss me til it's time?"

Aether shudders hard. "No. We're not talking about that. Not right now," he growls into Dew's mouth, licking at the seam of his lips. "It's just us right now. Nothing else. Just you and me."

Dew grants him access, fingers curling into his overgrown mohawk as Aether licks gently into his mouth. Tries to hang on as their tongues slide together. Aether does not wince as his hair's pulled, but neither does Dew when Aether pulls him tighter to him.

"Can we keep going?" Dew whispers into the kiss, and Aether savors the taste of those words on his tongue. "Want to stop thinking about this all. Just want you."

"'Course," he says without any hesitation. And hopefully, without any tremor in his voice. "Whatever you want."

Dew must pick up something in his tone, because the next thing he knows is Dew's hands grabbing his face again. They're so close, Aether's eyes cross as they try to focus on him. "Like you said. Nothing else right now. This isn't a last cigarette. Come on."

Aether huffs, lips quirking up in a smile, before he kisses Dew again. In one smooth motion, he's rolling the two of them until Dew's on his back, Aether's hands braced on the pillows on either side of his head.

Dew blinks up at him, cool blue eyes a little glossy, but burning into his own. "Hi, starshine," he says, smiling.

"Hi, darling," Aether leans down to nuzzle their noses together. "How's this?"

Dew grins, his teeth shining sharp in the little bit of moonlight. "Fucking perfect," he says, stealing another kiss from Aether's mouth as he hitches a skinny thigh up against Aether's hip, gasping as it pushes his hips up against Aether's. His expression falls, something a little tender, uncharacteristically shy. "I, uh. I wanna look at you."

Aether kisses him again, selfishly. "Of course. I wanna look at you too. Pretty fishy."

Dew bats at Aether's shoulder, but there's no real heat behind it. Aether's felt what Dew can do when he means it.

"My pretty fishy," he says again, leaning down to nose at the fins lining his ear. It flicks against his head, and Aether can feel the soft huff of breath from Dew's gills.

"Yours," Dew says, voice thick and wavering. Aether's brow furrows, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment. Tries to steel himself. To become a pillar for him. A little bit of comfort in the shittiest few months of their lives. Whatever the morning brings-

Fuck all of that. Aether is right here. Dew under him, heart beating and magick crackling and gills fluttering with breath. With life. He surges down to kiss Dew again, tastes the possession and belonging on their tongues.

Dew moans, and Aether feels himself start to chub up where they're pressed together. Swallows down Dew's noises like ambrosia. Dew kisses him, fingers tangled into his hair and clinging, desperate.

"I've got you," Aether murmurs into Dew's lips, threading his fingers into the silvery fine strands of Dew's hair. Not pulling or moving or tugging. He just lets those strands slip through his fingers. "Anything you want, darling."

Dew keens, shuddering underneath him as Aether cages him in. "Want to stay like this forever," he breathes, the high points of his face flushing a deep teal as he admits it.

Aether breaks the kiss, panting, before ducking back down to kiss the corner of Dew's mouth. He trails kisses across his cheek, to the edge of his jaw, and Dew sighs, letting his head loll back to offer him the column of his throat. He pauses for just a moment, feeling Dew's pulse under his lips before licking a stripe up the side of his throat, tongue dipping teasingly into each fluttering gill.

Dew's moan is soft and keening. It's music to Aether's ears, and he can't help but rock his hips down into Dew's, drawing out another and another and another.

He paws at the elastic of Aether's boxers after a little while, gasping as Aether licks and sucks at his collarbone. "Get them off," he pants, even as he presses his bulge to Aether's, drawing noises from the both of them at the friction.

Aether reluctantly pulls back enough to kick his boxers off, and Dew's quick to follow with his own. His dick's already flushed and stiff, wet at the tip and well on its way to leaving a puddle of pre in the hollow of his hip.

"Aether," Dew breathes, eyes not leaving his face. It pitches up breathily, and Aether reaches down to squeeze the base of his cock.

"Not gonna leave you hanging, baby, I promise," he swears, shuffling as quickly as he can down the bed so he can lick a stripe up his hip. His eyes flutter shut at the taste, petrichor and a little salty and all Dew. "Bet you're getting wet down there too, but you taste so good here."

Dew's hands fly into his hair, tangling and pulling, but Aether can't even bring himself to wince at the sharp pull on his scalp. He slowly, thoroughly, licks up every drop of Dew's taste, even as his little cock steadily blurts out more. Aether gets a hand on himself, even though he's well on his way to fully hard, stroking slow and loose as everything gets him more worked up.

Aether gets one hand on Dew's hip, holding him steady as his hips try to buck. "C'mon," Dew whines, dick twitching each time he can feel the heat of Aether's mouth close to it. "Please."

That one word does funny things to Aether when Dew says it. His head lolls forward, groaning loud and low and rumbly in his chest. Tension spikes in his core, and he has to squeeze the base of his cock to keep from spilling over the sheets. "Fuck, darling, Dew, yes," he rambles, kissing the crease between Dew's hip and thigh. "I just- fuck. Do you want to cum like this, or on my cock? Anything you want."

There's a tug at his hair, and Aether crawls back up Dew's body as his water ghoul directs him. "Want you in me," Dew says, pressing up on his elbows to kiss him, parting his lips to let Aether's tongue slide against his. He almost mewls as he tastes his own precum.

Aether only breaks the kiss when he's out of breath, a hand sneaking between Dew's thighs to press fingertips against his rim. Dew gasps, eyes shining like gems in the low light. He's the most beautiful thing Aether's ever seen. His heart aches.

Aether catches himself, forces himself back into the moment with a shake of his head. "Breathe for me, darling," Aether whispers, leaning in to kiss away Dew's panting noises as he slips a finger inside.

He takes his time with prep, one then two then three thick, glamoured fingers, aided by Dew's slick. It sounds wet and obscene, but for once Aether isn't hearing it. He's laser focused on the little breathy gasps he's swallowing down, the slick sound of their lips and tongues together. Dew's claws dig into Aether's shoulderblades, and Aether takes the pain willingly, eagerly. Wants every sensation burnt into his brain.

Eventually, Dew pulls back, every gill on his body fluttering, tail curling around Aether's calf. "I'm not gonna break, jackass," he says, but there's a fondness in the way his lips quirk up, something soft in his eyes.

Aether scoffs, playfully rolls his eyes. He presses his fingertips hard into the spot he knows makes Dew's dick drip before he pulls his fingers out of his ass. He winds his tail around Dew's. "Come on, let me be good to you," Aether says, rubbing the tip of his nose against the bridge of Dew's. "Treat you how you deserve."

Dew's grip tightens, claws digging in. Aether wonders how long the marks will last, is secretly grateful that his own quintessence won't work on himself.

"Want you," Dew says, trying to nudge his hips up so Aether's cock slides against his taint. It presses his hard little cock against Aether's belly, and Dew groans as it drools into his happy trail.

"You have me," Aether promises, entranced with the way Dew's hair spools through his fingers like water. He holds the back of his head, tilts it up just enough to kiss him. Soft, gentle. What Dew deserves.

He gives himself to Dew just like that. Presses in slow and reverent. They both gasp into each other's lips, a soft groan at the first taste of pleasure.

Dew's just as wet as he ever is, and Aether groans into the kiss. His thighs shake with the effort of slow and steady. Dew hitches his legs up around his hips, locking his ankles around the small of his back.

The kiss breaks, Dew pressing his forehead to Aether's as their hips meet, nudging that secret place inside Dew that feels like coming home.

Dew curses softly, pretty blue eyes rolling into the back of his head as Aether's balls press heavy against his ass and the head of his cock nudges at his prostate. His dick kicks at the stimulation, blurting another rivulet of pre onto his belly.

Aether feels something strange swoop in his chest, and he cups Dew's face in both hands. "Baby, look at me," he says, a little panic beading up unbidden in his tone. "Dew, please look at me. Need you to look at me."

Dew's brow furrows, and he shakes his head, eyes focusing on Aether's face. "Starshine? You okay?"

Loaded question.

But Aether clears his throat, tries to even out his breathing. The wet warmth of Dew's body combined with the panic he's trying to keep at bay makes it just a little difficult. "I'm okay, Dew. Just. I wanna look at you."

Thank all seven saints, Dew doesn't press any further. He knows him, more than anyone else ever has. His hands skate up from Aether's shoulders to card through his mohawk. His expression is soft, warm, even as cool blue eyes examine every inch of him. "I'm right here."

Aether smiles, kisses him again. "I know."

"You've got me, and I've got you," Dew says, that determined edge cutting through his whisper.

"Yeah," Aether agrees, unable to tear his eyes away from the upturn of Dew's lips. "We've got each other."

They spend another moment like that, Dew's eyes fluttering as his hips shift minutely, the friction of Aether's cock teasingly maddening. But he never shuts his eyes, and his hands shift to hold the sides of his face.

Dew swipes a bass-calloused thumb over Aether's cheek, wiping away a tear that he hadn't even realized had fallen. "Hey, none of that," Dew says, licking the tear from his thumb coyly. "We're right here."

Despite his teasing, there's a little concern in the ocean depths of his eyes. Aether takes a deep breath and leans into Dew's hand. Nuzzles into it, feels the scrape of his overgrown stubble catching on Dew's callouses.

"Right here," Aether echoes. They lay there for a moment, just holding each other's faces, foreheads pressed together, until Dew huffs.

His bony ankles dig into the small of Aether's back. "Not gonna break, Aeth," he mumbles, trying to shove his hips back onto Aether's cock even though he's fully sheathed in his body. "And not to mention the elephant in the room or whatever, but night's not getting any younger. Fuck me. Please."

Aether knows better than to push at the obvious deflection. He groans as Dew says please again, rocking his hips forward and dragging a strangled noise from Dew's throat.

"Oh fuck," Dew laughs, a little startled. Aether smiles back at him, sets a steady rhythm. Pulls out until just the head rests inside of him, pushing back in smoothly until their hips press together again.

Even if Aether were a stronger ghoul, he wouldn't be able to hide just how affected he is by the clutch of Dew's body. He fits so perfectly inside of him that if Dew told him that Lucifer Himself had made him for Aether, he'd be more than inclined to agree. He groans loudly in the still of the dark, fingers tightening almost imperceptibly in Dew's hair.

Dew's head rolls back against the pillow as Aether starts to roll his hips into him. Aether's body covers his entirely, body shoved slightly up the mattress, rustling the sheets in the hearth. Dew does his very best to keep his eyes on Aether, even as the pleasure makes them start to unfocus and go a little cloudy.

Aether watches his kiss-swollen lips part slightly, his fangs nibbling at the plushness of his bottom lip. He always goes so soft when Aether gets to fuck him like this. All vulnerable and open and intimate in a way he never is outside of their bedroom.

"Yeah, darling?" Aether says, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against Dew's. He brushes a strand of silver hair from his forehead, tucking it behind a seaglass horn.

Dew opens his mouth to answer, but only a sweet little moan escapes past his lips.

Aether laughs fondly, adjusting his head just enough to taste that noise on his tongue with a kiss. Dew's hands fly back to his hair, pulling hard.

He rewards him with a deep thrust, just the tiniest bit faster. Knows the exact angle to hit the spot that makes Dew squeal. "Fuck, baby," he groans as Dew's lean thighs tighten around his waist. "Feels good, huh?"

"Yeah, it feels good, asshole," Dew whines. Aether can feel his cock kick hard against his belly, drooling precum. "Don't stop." Aether shakes his head. "Wouldn't dream of it," he promises, and he knows he means every word.

It's slow and languid just like that for a while, time syrupy around them. Wrapped up in each other's bodies, so tangled together they may as well be one creature. Sharing breath, hands roaming soft over each other's skin.

Aether tries to burn every minute detail into his brain. Petrichor and salt scent of his arousal, tangled with snowmelt and lilies and candle smoke and ozone. The texture of his scales against his skin. The cool puffs of breath from his gills. The tight clutch of his ass as their hips work together. The shine of silver hair in moonlight. The feel of his cheekbones against his palms.

He doesn't want to think of the world outside of their nest, their hearth. What will happen when the sun rises and they receive the mandatory summons to the chapel from one of the Imperator's ghouls. But. Just in case. He memorizes it all the same.

"Lucifer, fuck, Aeth," Dew gasps, back arching off of the bed with a particularly precise thrust. His dick jumps hard, and Aether worms a hand between their bodies to wrap his fingers around him. His shaft is slick, even though he's barely been touched. Dew practically mewls at the contact, eyes flying open, wide and blue like Aether's looking up into a cloudless sky.

"Oh, shit, baby. Squeeze me just like that," Aether coos, swiping his thumb just under the tip of Dew's cock. He doesn't jerk him off, just holds him, a little pressure and friction when his hips jolt.

Dew's eyes roll back, but Aether can't bring himself to make Dew look at him. Wants to let him lose himself in all of the pleasure he can get. "Aether," Dew gasps, clinging to him, trying his best to rock his hips back into his.

Every little feeling Aether has for this ghoul laying beneath him grows and swells until it's all encompassing. He watches Dew lose himself to the pleasure, keeps his hips angled just right so every slow stroke brushes against his prostate. "I've got you, baby," Aether promises, nuzzling into Dew's cheek.

"Fuck, starshine, please," Dew says, voice strained with a keen when Aether gives him a particularly precise thrust.

"Please what, darling?" Aether says, starting to pant. Sweat beads at his hairline. "I can't give you what you want if you don't tell me what it is."

Dew rolls his eyes, but a sharp whine escapes his lips. Fingers tangle a little tighter in Aether's hair. "Fuck me, starshine. I'm not gonna break."

They know he's talking about more than just this. But Aether gives him a little harder thrust anyways. Wants to keep pretending.

Dew pulls him down to his mouth as Aether sets a harder pace, finally giving into chasing his own pleasure. He dutifully swallows down every moan and grunt, gasping out his own noises as Aether fucks him.

They share breath, panting and desperate, staring into each other's eyes like all of the answers they'd ever need could be found there. Aether, very quietly, in the back of his mind, thinks it's true. Tries to drown himself in those deep blue eyes. "Fuck, darling, Dewdrop, feels so fucking good," he groans as the kiss breaks, lowering himself even lower to nuzzle his cheek against the side of Dew's head.

Dew's head lolls back against the pillows, baring the column of his throat, each gill fluttering with his panting breaths. He's gorgeous like this, silver hair haloed out around his head and almost metallic in the low light.

Aether freezes, and Dew lets out a confused, protesting noise. His claws dig into the backs of Aether's shoulders. "Said you weren't gonna stop, asshole," he pants, his chest heaving. The motion makes his nipple piercings glint.

"I know, I'm sorry," Aether breathes. He still doesn't start again. Not quite yet. "Just. I wanna look at you, darling."

The frustrated expression melts off of Dew's face, fingers gentling on Aether's back. Dew looks up at him, eyes scanning over his face as his hand migrates to his cheek once again. "I'm right here," he breathes, swallowing hard.

"I know," Aether says, petting through Dew's hair. His voice cracks. "I know."

He stares at Dew, forcing himself to just see him. No infirmary beds. No rituals. Here and now. In the dark and quiet of their bedroom. Safe in their hearth. The ghoul he loves with everything he has. That he'd follow anywhere.

Aether kisses Dew, fingers tangled gently in his hair. "I love you, Dewdrop."

He can feel Dew's smile against his lips. "I love you too, Aether."

They hold each other close for a while, no more words, just reveling in the closeness. The warmth of their bodies. Nothing else matters.

He doesn't know exactly how long has passed, doesn't want to know, when Dew's ankles tighten around the small of his back again. "You wanna keep going, starshine?"

Aether nods wordlessly, giving him one more sweet kiss before he starts to move again. Dew's eyes roll back, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as Aether jerks him off in time with his slow, deep thrusts.

"Right there, baby," Dew groans, craning his neck to nibble at Aether's jaw. His dick twitches against Aether's palm, and Aether matches his groan, cock throbbing where it's buried in his body. Aether nods, careful not to clip his chin against where Dew's face is right against him.

"'Course, I got you," Aether promises. He sneaks his other hand under Dew's hips, adjusting the angle until each slow stroke makes Dew mewl. It doesn't take long until Dew's thighs start to tremble around his waist, body going tense. He groans like he's been punched in the gut at the way Dew clenches around him.

"Aeth," Dew gasps, eyes wide. One of his hands leaves Aether's face, reaching down for- "Gimme your hand, Aeth, please, gimme your hand."

It's barely a moment that passes before Aether's setting Dew's hips back down carefully, rhythm never once faltering. He takes Dew's hand without hesitation, entwining their fingers with a gentle squeeze. He marvels a little at how much bigger his hand is than Dew's. But he doesn't stay distracted for long, refocusing his efforts to Dew's pleasure.

He holds Dew's hand, pinning it a little to the mattress as he holds himself up with it, his other hand working his cock. Dew squeezes his hand back, pretty blue eyes rolling back as he bucks his hips up into Aether's hand.

"You close, darling?" Aether asks, feeling the pleasure churning in his own gut. It tightens and threatens to snap at any moment.

Dew nods, kiss swollen lips slightly parted. "Yeah, please don't stop."

Aether redoubles his efforts, pressing his forehead to Dew's as his body jolts with each thrust. Dew's cock stiffens even more in his hand, and Aether tightens his grip as he strokes him. The slide is wet and slick with Dew's pre, and with the gasping cries Dew's giving him, it's about to be even wetter.

"Come on, darling, please cum for me," Aether whispers into the fins of Dew's ear. "Let me make you feel good."

Aether rocks his hips into Dew's once, twice, three more times before Dew's back arches almost violently with a sharp, soft cry. He keeps his hand moving on his dick, working him through his orgasm as cum splashes up the flat of his belly and his sternum. It spits and dribbles over Aether's knuckles, pearly white and sticky.

Dew's ass clenches hard around his cock. That, combined with Dew's shuddering, gasping cries, are enough to make him follow Dew over the edge. The tension deep in his gut snaps.

They press their foreheads together as they cum, Aether buried as deep as he can get in the clutch of Dew's body. Dew clings to him, whining softly as Aether works himself through it, little humping thrusts as he empties himself into his body, squeezing Dew's hand all the while. Dew squeezes back.

The room falls back to silence, save for panting, heaving breathing as the two catch their breaths. Aether carefully pulls out, but makes no attempt to move or go clean up, smoothing his thumb over the back of Dew's hand as he watches his gills flutter unevenly with breath.

He's beautiful. It makes his heart swell, fluttering against his sternum like a bird as Dew cards through his sweaty mohawk, strands of violet hair carding through his fingers. Aether knows exactly what he'll do for this little ghoul laying beneath him. Where he'll go, what he'll do.

"Darling," Aether breaths.

"Starshine," Dew coos, grinning a little giddily.

Aether swallows hard. Wipes his hand clean on the sheets of the hearth before bringing it up to tuck a strand of silver hair behind Dew's ear. Dew leans into the touch, eyes half lidded. A satisfied purr kicks up in his chest.

"Dewdrop," Aether tries again. A little furrow forms between Dew's brows as he tries to focus, worry seeping into his expression. "I want you to listen to me, okay?"

"Aeth," Dew whispers, blue eyes darting over his face. "Starshine, what's wrong?"

Aether squeezes his eyes shut. They both know what's wrong, but that's not worth mentioning right now. "I have a confession, darling. I was selfish. You want my scar. And I want to give you my scar, and to wear yours. I swear on all Seven Sisters, I want nothing more."

"Aether," Dew says. There's the sharp edge of wariness in his tone. Aether shakes his head, gently cups the side of Dew's face to keep his gaze.

"Please, Dew," Aether says. There's something in his voice that makes Dew freeze, staring up and actually listening. "I was scared. Of becoming your mate just to have the bond broken before it could even properly form. I- I didn't want to feel it happen. I didn't want it to kill me too. It's selfish and it's awful, considering what might happen to you, and I'm sorry."

"Aether," Dew breathes, his voice hitching. He squeezes Aether's hand so hard that the delicate bones inside grind together. He doesn't mind.

"Dewdrop. No matter what happens tomorrow, I will follow you anywhere. To the Ninth and back, through each and every circle until you tell me to stop. And if you want my bite, I will give it to you. I'm sorry I didn't do it the way I know you wanted. I didn't give you the big ceremony, with our pack watching and our Papa marrying us in the Prince's name. I'm sorry they can't be there for it anym-"

"That's not your fault," Dew hisses. There's tears welling up in his sea blue eyes. Aether presses his forehead to his. "Aether, that's not your fucking fault."

"Please, darling," Aether begs. He squeezes Dew's hand. Dew squeezes back. "It would be the honor of my life to wear your scar. Damn the Ghost Project, damn the Emerituses, damn it all. That would be what I'd be proudest of. I want to wear your scar, and I want you to wear mine. I love you more than anything. I thought, that by denying you what you wanted, I might have a chance of surviving whatever may come. But fuck that."

"Aether," Dew tries again. Aether just shakes his head.

"I don't want to be in a world where you're not there, Dew," Aether whispers. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "If the very worst of my nightmares comes true tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that, I will follow you, my love."

"Aether, don't say that," Dew whispers, pulling him down to nuzzle his cheek. His voice breaks. "I'm gonna be fine."

"I know you are," Aether swears. "But it's true. Being Up Top without you is not something that's in my cards, darling. Being anywhere without you isn't something I want to have to do. The Prince Himself would have to fucking stop me. I want to be yours, by scent and by scar."

Aether has more planned to say. He opens his mouth to say it, but all that comes out is a strangled yelp as Dew pulls him down to kiss him. It's clumsy, like new lovers, all teeth and tongue and passion. Aether melts into it all the same.

Dew lets him go, pushes him back just enough to look him in the eye. "You mean it?" he says, a little uncertainty shining through the cracks of the facade he's trying to pull back up.

"Of course I mean it," Aether promises, leaning down to nuzzle the side of his nose against Dew's. "Every word."

Dew nuzzles back, melting into the affection. "Then. Well. Aether, would you do me the honor of wearing my scar?"

"Yes, my darling," Aether breathes. They're still holding hands. "And would you allow me to give you mine?"

Dew beams, a brilliant dazzling gems in his eyes. "Yes, I would."

Aether tilts his head, offering the most vulnerable part of himself to Dew. His pulse, the lifeblood within. He gathers the magick at the very core of him, the pure quintessence, and brings it up to the surface, where it rests just under his skin. This would be easier Down Below, without the vessels they reside in containing the force. But it's easy enough for his magick to pool around his pulse.

If Aether cries when Dew's teeth sink carefully into the crook of his neck, Dew doesn't mention it. Mostly because he's crying softly too, tear tracks trailing over the sharp planes of his cheekbones. He stiffens under him when he tastes Aether's magick.

Aether doesn't shut his eyes, winding fingers through silver hair as the needle sharp pain lances through his nerves. But there's something else budding in his chest, pounding in time with his heart. It's growing, looking for something that isn't there yet. Aether turns to press a kiss to Dew's temple, his fangs still in his throat.

When Dew pulls back, it feels like he's taking something with him. His lips shine ruby in the low light. He makes no move to lick them clean. He's never been more beautiful. "Your turn, starshine," he says, lips and eyes shiny and wet.

Aether nods, ducking his head to nose at the crook of Dew's neck. He feels the puff of breath from Dew's gills, feels it hitch as he presses a kiss there. Aether squeezes his eyes shut, Dew's pulse thrumming just under his lips.

He presses his fangs there, carefully pushing in until he feels skin split under them. Dew tastes like his scent concentrated, fresh spring meltwater, lilies that have just bloomed, the way the chapel smells after every offering candle has been snuffed, and the iron metallic taste of blood underneath it all. Aether groans softly under his breath, but then that thing in his chest that's been budding and pulsing blooms as Dew's magick reaches out to meet him. Water and fire meeting quintessence in a complex braid.

It feels like completing an electrical circuit. Feels like pressing the last piece of a puzzle into place. It feels like coming home. Dew gasps sharply, arms wrapped tight around Aether's shoulders. Aether shudders hard, careful not to disturb his teeth in Dew's throat, doesn't want to hurt him any more than he already has.

After a moment, Aether pulls back, sees the print of his teeth in Dew's throat. Pride and possession and love swirl in a deadly mix in his chest. There's blood on his mouth, just like Dew. He grins down at him, feeling the tendrils of their matebond start to entwine and tether.

Aether's never felt anything like it. He wants to feel it forever.

Dew lets out a sob, or a laugh, and pulls Aether down to kiss him, blood on their mouths be damned. Aether kisses him like a man starved, fingers tangled in Dew's hair, holding him so close like he can keep him from ever leaving.

When they pull back, it's only far enough for Aether to breathe, for the two of them to stare into each other's eyes, amethyst to aquamarine. Their lips ghost against one another, and they're not sure who starts it first, but before they know it they break into exhausted, delirious laughter.

"You're bleeding," Dew laughs, eyes dropping to the crook of Aether's neck. Aether chuffs, delighted.

"So are you," he beams, ducking down to lap up the mess dripping down into Dew's collarbone. The press of his tongue makes Dew giggle. He smells like Aether here. Where the bit of the magick Aether left behind will live forever.

Dew follows suit, cleaning up Aether's matebite and encouraging it to heal. When it does, it will leave a silvery scar. Permanent. Claiming. Dew's mark on Aether, and vice versa. Where their magick will tether them together forever.

The two of them curl together into their hearth, encouraging their delicate, brand new bond to blossom and strengthen. Sharing soft kisses and touches as their magick weaves together. Aether lays on his side, his back to the door, Dew curled up against his chest. Aether tucks a strand of hair behind his mate's ear. "I love you, Dewdrop."

Dew smiles brightly, tucking his face into his mate's collarbone. "I love you too, Aether."

In the safety of their hearth, Aether presses a kiss to the crown of Dew's head. Breathes in his scent. The way it now entwines with his own. Nothing can ever get to them here.

Outside, the sun rises.

[inkats]

ok today's prompt is future! uhm. no spoilies. so. elfie wanted to do braids.

[solradguy]

I do think Sol has every right to throw Asuka into a wall as few times but I also ask for your proposed reason for why Sol would be making a big ass rocket to vist him. /gen

Oh, you know...

I genuinely don't know what else Sol could possibly be planning to do other than finish what he vowed to do at the end of Begin and at least once in almost every game release before and since haha

[kryptonbabe]

You will get a new Wonder Woman run planned to be a long and structured one - but it's written by Tom King

You will get a new Black Canary run - the thing is, it will be written by Tom King

You will get a series of some silver age partially forgotten characters you like - Adam Strange, Omega Men, Metamorpho - but here's the catch: they'll all be written by Tom King

Why all these times I got something I wanted from DC it was like meeting this wise and cruel Jinn trying to warn me about the potential harm of my heart's desires?

"Be careful what you wish for, little one. Now take this Tom King book" the creature whispers while I sob

[astarlightmonbebe]

episode 5 has left me considering the different - and similar - ways taeyoung and kwonsook think about themselves, and how they respond to pain/violence.

kwonsook calls herself a monster, someone who goes crazy in the boxing ring. that monster, she says, was created by her father, and her father used abuse, violence, and emotional manipulation to create that monster. he didn’t treat her like human, so it’s no surprise that the way she talks about herself when she boxes is as if she’s discussing an animal: she gets cornered, gets scared for her life, and lashes out to kill. she calls herself a monster with resignation; it’s not what she wanted to be, but she knows it’s what she was. she ran away to escape that monstrosity, to live as a human, doing good things, but that part of her never really died.

taeyoung, too, calls himself a monster. he’s a SOB, he does thing no one with an ounce of humanity would do. he seemingly has no qualms about what he does, perhaps because he can always justify it to himself, always has an exit prepared for when things really get bad (until, i’m sure, he doesn’t). like kwonsook, taeyoung accepts the label of monster, accepts his own inhumanity, even if they are inhuman in very different ways. whereas kwonsook wants to break away from that monstrous part of her - she’s only returned so she can free herself from that part of herself permanently (and if she finds a way to box without a monster, then...) - taeyoung embraces it. it’s through being a monster that he’s found success, how he secures futures for his athletes, and how he’s able to ‘solve’ their (and his) issues. monstrosity was not imposed on taeyoung, but (due to what we know so far) is something he chose for himself (although the factors surrounding this part of his past are decidedly murky).

in this episode, taeyoung and kwonsook also demonstrate similar responses to violence and (emotional) pain. when taeyoung upsets kwonsook by working with her father behind her back, he offers her an outlet for her anger by punching him. later on, after ahreum has already slapped kwonsook, instead of lashing out, kwonsook offers to let ahreum hit her again if it will make her feel better. in parallel responses, both ahreum and kwonsook debate taking that opportunity to hurt, but decide not to (kwonsook because she’s taking a chance on taeyoung, or moreso giving him another one, and ahreum because she decides that she doesn’t owe kwonsook that, that kwonsook is beneath her in terms of boxing, no longer on her level). 

kwonsook learned to respond to pain at a young age. in boxing, you can’t flinch from the hit - you have to learn how to take the pain, absorb it, and get back up to hit again. outside of the rink, kwonsook absorbs the pain, but she doesn’t hit again. she’s experienced firsthand what her hits can do to people, and that terrified her. after all, she only boxed so that she could protect her mother. so when confronted with violence and pain, she takes the hit, because pain is what she knows and understands. it’s the emotions behind it that are hard for her. pain is easy for kwonsook, because she’s used to living through it, surviving it; beneath it, she’s always empty. she’s never really cared about boxing; it was what she had to do. the lee kwonsook that was a boxing genius was a monster she ran from, after all. but in order to break away from that monster, she has to come to understand the emotional investment of her fellow female boxers. before, they were just her opponents, never her friends, but now she has to face their own feelings about the sport, the passion they have for boxing that she never felt. like ara said, she didn’t feel happiness about winning, and kwonsook has never lost, so she’s never had to live with that humiliation, either. how her feelings will change in relation to boxing will likely be a reckoning for her.

taeyoung, on the other hand, is confronting his fair share of non-boxing sanctioned boxing. even though kwonsook is the boxer, it’s taeyoung who’s been touched by ‘true’ violence in this present timeline. his life is quite literally on the line, which has been shown again and again. he’s been ambushed by her father, threatened, blackmailed, and beaten up by chairman nam’s guys. he lives on the edge, anxious at every shadow, which is chewing him alive. to him, kwonsook’s anger is much easier to deal with. he knows she might hurt him, but his potential to hurt her is so much more (and if he does, in that case he’d find her anger justified, and probably let her beat him to death or something if what we’ve seen of his feelings for her is an indication of anything), and she might hurt him, but she’d never hurt him as much as other people in his life at the moment would (i.e. by killing him, or hurting the people he cares about). taeyoung is used to weathering the storm of other people’s dislike; he’s the scumbag, and he does bad things, deserves other people’s anger when it’s directed at him. 

both taeyoung and kwonsook want to resolve things through violence. i think it’s telling that despite being two emotionally aware people, they both consider other people’s feelings to be so easily taken care of. they want the quick, instant pain, and then they want to get it over with. because the violence is what they’re used to, and to a degree it’s what they both think they deserve. however, what lies beneath that, what doesn’t go away with a single hit, is much harder for them to confront and understand. 

[indi-glo-archive]

Tara doesn't have the cursed twist-out in the promo pics. Black people win at not losing

[artbyblastweave]

So I don't really think that it's a secret that Boston has a significant Minotaur problem. It's a pretty common situation for older American cities on the East Coast- centuries of poorly-documented cowpath-style urban growth providing an ideal nesting ground, widespread electrification and plentiful steam tunnels that compensate for the loss of the temperate Mediterranean climate that they're used to. And all this on top of limited institutional knowledge of proper containment tactics at least up until the Greek diaspora started to really blow up in the 20th century. You only have to fuck up the safety checks on one cargo steamer coming in from the broad area of old Minoa and then basically any import controls you put in after that point are closing the barn door after the bulls are loose. So yeah, no secret, it's an issue.

I do think, though, that we've kind of let the specific narrative surrounding the issue get away from us in the usual fashion, the problem people picture when they hear "Minotaur" isn't anywhere close the to the problem as it exists on the ground. I mean people's minds immediately jump to the 1949 Boylston massacre, but let's be real, even though that was really politically useful for finally getting the exit fares on the T removed, that was still a black-swan event, right? Basically every mayor since, like, Hynes has lived in mortal terror of having to manage a repeat of something like that during the mass media era, let alone the smartphone era. So we've got these Theseus kill-teams with their titanium-composite ropes and souped-up cattle prods and bolt guns, we have these constant "track replacement" stoppages on the orange line, and it's fine. It's fine! There hasn't been a serious Minotaur thing within walking distance of a T stop since, like, 2006, which again you can mostly chalk up to the chaos surrounding the dig.

No, the actual danger zones, the silent killers are the exurbs, like West Roxbury, Roslindale, parts of Hyde Park. Relatively dense foliage, bad sightlines, far enough from the urban center that the response times are bad, foot traffic that's basically nonexistent for big parts of the workweek because everyone's either commuting or hunkered down working from home. And, of course, a steady stream of delivery drivers with no political ties to the area. Which is an important element, right? I mean it's kind of baked into the Minotaur's nature, that they have a very finely tuned instinctual awareness of the politics of their situation. Start snagging homeowners, there might be a ruckus. But Amazon does steady business everywhere, and Minotaurs are smart enough to cover their bases, to wait until after the drivers have dropped off your package or delivered your food. So yeah, watch yourself out there. One eye on the treeline at all times. And if you see an Amazon van left idling, get ready to run faster than the driver could.

[teleportationmagic]

Transplated my hollyhock for the first time and it went... well? I'd thought I'd messed something up, because the leaves went all crinkly-dead a few hours after I moved it, but a day later and the entire thing stiffened up so that seems good. I think.

[seiwas]

cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry

bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.

there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.

but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.

your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.

the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.

he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?

heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—

he gulps.

it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—

(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)

the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).

it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.

he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.

bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.

you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.

"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.

as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.

as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.

as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.

his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.

you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.

“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.

your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.

he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.

but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.

he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.

there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.

your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.

then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.

he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.

five minutes, huh?

like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.

[cutielatias]

finally we/I played true colors (i was owning this for a time, because we played this in August,and now it's already December😅💦) the text is some reactions and thoughts that I/we had while playing the game

"jeez,comparing alex to sean,sean actually sounds like a genuine nice person (she is a jerk😒) now i know why i liked/like sean (i will no longer complain about him,ha-ha😂,no, just kiddin,i will)"

"for someone with the power of "empathy"alex sounds more like a manipulator than an actual empathy person,she uses other's emotions to get what she wants/make they say what she wants,that feels wrong"

"what this game/franchise have against reserved people?!💢alex is so jerk with that diane,and i hate it!she so jerk with her💢(the woman is just keeping/doing her job😒)"

"i thought that alex was starting to become more likeable on ep3, but then i read her diary(diane's part)and the laptop part (at the ending)no,no, she still jerk😑"

"the cop looks like cody from "it takes two" haha😂,(diane is may😂😂😂)"

"i didn't understand nothing of alex past life/the old phone messages😕 (and by the way whata heck was that with that isaac guy!!?that was weird, was very obvious that the guy want something more with her, it's not possible that she couldn't read the guy's mind and sense that he wanted to hook up with her(I doubt that she can't sense lust💢)i mean, i think she kinda wanted too😒,but,idk why but the impression that i have of this situation is that alex and the guy were hooking up and in the middle of that, alex reads/feels the guy emotions during the s*x, and the thoughts were kinda wild (but in a red flag way)and that made her kinda uncomfortable,and she gets weird with the guy,and then she blocks him,ugh~😑,fuckin weird situation"

"almost faint when i saw that mexican letter (and not in a good way)i was worried that would be something do to with sean and daniel💦 and thank god that was not💨"

"the ending super coherent with us😂, were the olds that stayed on our side, me and ana have something that we always have more affinity with older people(and vice versa)"

"it even gives me a little feeling to look to this menu image, I remember the day that we finished the game, it was even a little melancholy to look/get out of the menu, I like the menu song, the music is nice✨(i like the instrumental/menu version more but the voice version is ok too) , and by the way no one gonna talk about the fact that the group that plays the song has a Portuguese name "novo amor"maybe cuz is nothin important😂😂😅 its just a name😅💦,but i find funny cuz this game seens to have a "big" brazillian fanbase so i thought someone would say something, but no, no one says nothin(i don't know if is the brazillian portuguese now thinking can be the portugal one) just an useless funny fact😅😂(at first a thought that "novo amor" was the song's name, but the songs name is haven, "novo amor" is the singer)"

"I didn't find true colors a copy of the others "life is stranges" like people were saying at the time(of course, that some of concepts are very similar from the preview ones😅,i do noticed that, but they did in a different way), for me it's kinda different from the others, it's not like the first or the second and neither to before the storm (which I thought was more likely because both were by decknine)"

"i thought that after i liked the second one if i played another game of the franchise, i would like it too(cuz i'll be honest i never really liked this franchise, i find the concept interesting, but i didn't like the characters very much) but after that I liked the second one, I thought that maybe I would't roll my eyes with the franchise anymore, but no, I roll my eyes with true colors as the same way as I roll with the others, it's reallys only the second one that I put up with/the one that has the spark, it's as if the feeling that I feel with this franchise always still the same, it's only the second one that I like/liked,like imagine that you are someone who doesn't like coffee, but one day you drink a certain coffee and you like it , and with that you think, now that I liked this coffee, maybe I don't have problem with coffee anymore, but no, you drink the other coffees and you still don't like it, it's just that one coffee that you like/liked(crazy example but its the only one that could think about it😅😅😅)"

[lis-likes-fics]

Everything in the World

Pairings: Spencer Reid x wife!Reader Word Count: 1.9k words Warnings: Literally none, not even a swear word, all fluff... A/N: Why can't I have this?! Please I am begging on my knees, all I want is like... ONE KISS. Please ONE KISS PLEA-! Thanks to my lovely beta reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen!

It's really late. It takes a lot of care to close the door silently behind him as he steps into the threshold of his home.

He releases the quiet breath when he hears the click of the lock, turning on his heel and setting his go bag by the door. The quiet hum of the TV is all he can hear through the apartment as he begins to step further inside. It's nearly one in the morning—you should have been in bed hours ago.

Spencer comes up to the living room, peering inside curiously to see My Little Pony playing brightly across the screen as multiple colorful ponies trot through a city bustling with activity.

“Daddy!*

The voice that calls him is ecstatic but still so, so soft in the night. His smile immediately stretches over his face, his mind full of images of the past few days melting away in favor of holding his arms out and open to receive his little girl.

“Hey!” he beams, sweeping her into his arms as he keeps his voice down. He holds her close to him, rubbing her back and sighing. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Spencer kneels down, setting his baby—though she would argue she wasn't a baby—on her feet with a smile. He sits back, his legs out in front of her for her to stand. She eagerly moves her dark brown curls away from her face, smiling so big that it looks like she's all teeth.

“Miss you,” she admits, whispering poorly.

His heart warms at the words. “I missed you too, Rora,” he returns, pressing a loving kiss to her forehead and adoring her giggle.

He glances over at the couch where you're fast asleep, one arm draped over the side in a position he can only assume is highly uncomfortable. You're both in your pajamas already, completely through your nightly routines with the obvious exception of the part where you go to bed.

Spencer's hand holds her side, his thumb brushing gentle circles over her. “Did you stay up for me?”

Aurora's nod is enthusiastic with an unmistakable pride shining in her eyes. She's got these big cheeks that Spencer loves to kiss. “Yes,” she says. Then she looks over at you, like you're silly. “Mommy went sleep.”

“I see,” he mumbles. He watches the way you pull Rora’s plush elephant into your chest under one heavy arm like you're cradling her. He nearly melts at the sight.

He scrunches his nose and leans in like he's telling a secret. “She was super sleepy, huh?”

Rora’s happy to join in, her voice lowering to another loud whisper. “Yeah.”

“You wanna help me put her to bed?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, c'mon.” He hosts himself up onto his knees and takes her hand, waddling over to your spot on the couch.

He smiles fondly as he peers at you, your soft face and your softer breaths. He thinks you're one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen. You and your baby girl.

“Isn't she so pretty?” he whispers, his voice so, so soft to avoid waking you.

Aurora tries to match his tone. “Yes. Like the boralis!”

He nods quickly. “Yes, exactly like the boralis.” She still hasn't quite figured out how to say “borealis”, but he doesn't have the heart to correct her right now. It's what the two of you named her after. He kisses her forehead again. “C'mon.”

Spencer stands, putting all his care into sliding his hands underneath your body. A tiny sound mumbles out of you, but you just lean into him as he pulls you closer and closer. Once he's got you in his arms, held like a bride with your face resting against his chest and the plush in your arms, he can't help but to take a moment to look at your face again. He loves how pretty you are.

Your lashes flutter as you begin to awaken, struggling to open like they're stuck together with glue. “Spence,” you say before you've even looked at him.

He smiles fondly, his words so quiet that not even Aurora can understand him. “Hey, baby.” He glances at his daughter, motioning with his head for her to follow him as they walk through their home to get to the bedroom.

“You're home,” you mutter sweetly.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Did she wear you out?”

It takes a moment for you to reply, your mumbles spoken into his suit. “She has a lot of energy.” There's a lazy moan, and then, “You don't have to carry me.”

He refuses to not carry you. Carrying you is one of his favorite things to do. “Go back to sleep. We got you. Right, Rora?”

She's struggling to reach the door as she responds through strained effort. “Mm-huh.” When it's open, she fist pumps herself and rushes inside to climb onto the bed. It takes a lot of effort for her to get there. Spencer's already waiting by the bed by the time she manages to crawl up, and he enjoys watching her pull the covers back for you.

You silently let them go through the process of tucking you in—Spencer lowering you into the bed, Aurora bringing the covers up to tuck under your chin, Spencer smoothing the blankets out, Aurora lifting your head less than elegantly to push an extra pillow underneath you.

Spencer rests a warm hand on your cheek, brushing his fingertips across your forehead and studying every tiny little feature of your face like he's analyzing old Russian texts. He presses his lips so sweetly to your forehead, and you melt into the pillows.

“I'm gonna put her to bed, okay?” he murmurs. You nod and hum. “Give mommy a kiss.”

Aurora pulls her hair back from her face, bending down to place a sort of sloppy kiss to your cheek. He doesn't miss the way your lips tug. “Thanks, honey.”

Her voice is so small and sweet. “Night, Mommy.”

You take a while to breathe in, reaching a tired hand from under the covers to reach blindly for her. Once your hand has found her knee, you stroke it gently and nod. “Night, Rora. Love you, baby.”

“Love to you,” she says.

Spencer kisses your forehead again while Aurora picks up your arm and shoves it back under the covers. She wants to see nothing but your head uncovered.

He rounds the bed and scoops his girl off of it, making a rocket sound as he does. She lands on his side and waves goodbye to you as he carries her from the room. She's taken her elephant plush with her. Her tiny hand holds onto him absentmindedly, holding his shirt in a tight grip that lets him know just how much she loves him, how much she depends on him. He rubs her leg.

When the door is closed, he smiles. “What story do you want tonight?”

“Mommy already read a story. Lord of Rings.”

He lowers his voice scandalously. “Do you want another one?”

Her face lights up like a million Christmas lights. And it's contagious. He looks like he's just received the best present of all. All he wants is to make her smile like that forever.

“I can have two?” she gasps.

Spencer thinks briefly that he would read to her every book in the world if it would make her this happy.

He opens her bedroom door, flicking on her golden lamp as he goes. “Yeah, sweetheart, you can have two.” He sets her in her bed, pulls the covers up as she helps. “But you gotta keep it a secret, okay?” He says this fully aware of the fact that she's going to tell you anyway. She tells you everything.

“‘Kay!”

He pulls up the tiny chair in her room. “Which one?”

“Next part, please!” she asks excitedly, pointing to The Lord of the Rings already sitting on the table beside her bed.

He picks up the thick book, pulling it in his lap and flipping to the marked page. “Ready?”

She lays back, getting as cozy as she can. She holds her plush to her chest just as closely as you had a moment ago. He can't help but adore how much she looks like you. It doesn't matter how many times people say she looks like her father, he will always see you in his girl.

“Ready.”

He snaps out of his thoughts, busying himself with the words. He wills himself to speak a little slower, entertaining her with voices and movements and all the things she loves in storytelling. She stops him a million times to ask a million questions, and he's content to give her a million answers and more.

And when she's finally fallen asleep, finally tired out by the long day and night she's had, he puts the book back with a smile. Spencer kneels by her bed, pressing a loving kiss to his daughter's head as he runs his fingers through her hair. He whispers “I love you,” so silently into her hairline, turning off her light to allow her nightlight to take over.

He retreats back to his room, closing the door and beginning to shed his layers. And once he's wrapped in some sweatpants, he finds himself kneeling by the bed once more.

You must have been really tired.

You sleep effortlessly, face pressed into the pillow, the extra one Rora had given you discarded to the other side of the bed. He can't himself. He reaches out and touches your face, tracing the softness of your cheeks and of your lips and of the tip of your nose.

Your face twitches where he tickles you. You don't have to open your eyes to know it's him. You never do. “She sleep?”

“Yeah.” He sighs gently, “Sorry I took so long.”

You shake your head. “Don't say sorry.”

He smiles, kissing your forehead for the fifteen hundredth time and standing to his feet. He goes around the bed and climbs in next to you, pulling the covers up to make sure you're still warm.

You practically glue yourself to him, tucking yourself away in the warmth of his chest and breathing in his scent as it swirls around your head and makes you melt inside. Spencer adores the feeling of your fingertips at his side, stroking up and down and up and down tickling as they do.

“Missed you,” you whisper. He's immediately reminded of Aurora when she greeted him earlier.

He wraps his arms around you and brings you impossibly closer, his loving hands caressing you. “I know. I missed you, too, love.” He says it all in one breath, so happy to be home and in your arms. Your forehead gets three more kisses. “Go back to sleep. I love you.”

He says it so quickly, but there's nothing casual about it. There's never been anything casual about the way he loves you. He loves you so fully and so deeply and so intensely. It takes his whole soul to look at you, and even more of it to bring himself to touch something as precious as you. Sometimes he feels like he doesn't deserve it. But right now, in this moment, he can't be bothered to think that. Right now, he's just so happy that you're his and he's yours. He loves you.

Even through your exhaustion, he feels his love returned. Your sticky words fuse with the fabric of his heart, and he's never been happier to be loved. “Love you, too.”

You earn another long kiss to the line where your forehead meets your hair. Tucking you in to him, he lets himself fall asleep next to you, wrapped in your arms.

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[ratsummer]

I think Phantom was fending for himself for years in the pit, running the circles from just about the age a ghoul can probably survive on their own. He was born into a small but loving pack, so he learned how to be a good ghoul kit, but once he was on his own, he didn't have anyone to socialize him as a young adult ghoul. Sure, he'd tag along with the odd band of ghouls here and there when the opportunity arose, but those alliances were born out of necessity and always quite brief.

All this to say, between his lack of guidance from adult ghouls, his trauma, and the neurodivergencies he was born with, Phantom has held on to a lot of ghoul kit behaviors.

When he's first summoned and meeting his new pack, everyone is on edge. He's small for a quint, and has a confusing blend of kit and adult behaviors. Once the infirmary ghouls have confirmed he is in fact an adult ghoul who chose of his own volition to respond to the summon, and not in fact a large kit they've accidentally abducted, everyone relaxes a bit.

At first, as they're learning about how Phantom was living for years prior to his summoning, emotions run high. They all hide it well from him, not wanting to frighten or burden him. Even so, there are many late nights in the den spent whispering and weeping as they process the things they learn of Phantom's past.

As time passes though, and Phantom settles in and gets comfier with all of them, the sadness and anger pass. They learn to interpret Phantom's unusual blend of behaviors, and they love him all the more. No one pressures Phantom to change, or tells him that he's doing something wrong. They accept him for who he is, and as long as he's not uncomfortable, embarrassed, or inadvertently harming himself, they're happy.

And oh, how they love their baby bat.

It took a while for Phantom to relax enough around anyone to purr at all, but now it's almost nonstop. Almost anything will set it off, too. Swiss walks into the same room as him? Purring. Mountain puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him still while he reaches over him for something in the kitchen? Purring. Dewdrop says good morning? Purring. When everyone gets together after a long day to cuddle in the den, Phantom's purrs stand out from the rest. He hasn't quite switched from the cooing, nasally purr of a kit into the rumbling, chest purr of an adult. He's slowly working into his chest purr, especially as he spends time cuddling on Mountain, Aether, and Swiss. Their purrs are deepest and most obviously resonating from their chests, making it easier for Phantom to imitate. Regardless of how he sounds, though, a purring Phantom is a happy Phantom is a Phantom getting many kisses.

Phantom is also working on scenting. The first person Phantom ever tried scenting was Dew, and boy was the fire ghoul confused at first. They were cuddled up on the couch, watching Cumulus teach Swiss some new crocheting techniques, when Phantom started headbutting him. To be fair, it was a gentle headbutting, really more bumping his face into Dew's jaw and nuzzling into him each time. Even so, it caught Dew off guard. Luckily, Rain was sitting on the opposite end of the couch and caught Dew's attention before he could react poorly. Dew, unlike Rain, had never really spent much time around ghoul kits, so failed to recognize Phantom's kit-like attempts at scenting. Rain mimed at him frantically until he got the memo and started scenting Phantom back. "Oh, Phantom," Rain chimed in soon after, "You're being such a lovebug for Dew. He likes gentler scenting though, sweetheart, do you want me to show you? Come here, it's my turn!" And of course, Rain instantly had a lapful of cooing, cuddly ghoul to coach, leaving Dew to roll around and be embarrassed over how in love with Phantom he is.

Phantom also kneads a lot more than most adult ghouls. While the others might do a little kneading here and there when they're feeling deeply sleepy and relaxed, Phantom seems to knead whether he's feeling calm or stressed. His most frequent victims are Cumulus, Swiss, Cirrus, and Mountain, and he kneads on whatever body part is closest. Tummies, thighs, arms, Cumulus even lets him get away with kneading on her boobs. He zones out hard when he starts kneading, almost slipping into a trance. They've all had to do a little correcting for Phantom with this behavior, just to show him how to keep his claws from hurting soft skin and to make sure he doesn't squeeze too hard. Sometimes, when he's having trouble being gentle, they'll pass him a stuffie or a pillow to work instead. He seems to knead the most during mass, Papa's chanting and the choral accompaniment relaxing him. Usually it's Mountain who will grab him when he starts getting glassy-eyed, holding him in his lap and letting him knead away at his arm.

Aether and Cirrus have spent a lot of time helping Phantom with his emotional regulation. Once he's feeling safe and secure with his new pack, that no one is going to hurt him if they notice him, he gets a bit too reactive when his emotions run high. When he messes up the same section of a song for the sixth time, he starts yelling and crying. When he slept poorly, he hisses and growls. When he trips down the last couple stairs in front of some siblings, he hides and mopes for hours, crying and skipping meals. Aether and Cirrus help him learn to identify how is body is reacting in a situation, and what emotion goes with it. They help him respond more calmly, so he doesn't hurt or frighten anyone. They teach him coping skills, like deep breathing, or leaving a room, or asking someone for a hug. It's not always easy, but Phantom is diligent and attentive, and with guidance he quickly finds techniques that work for him.

Yeah, idk. Just. I could go on and on. Phantom being a little different from what his new pack is used to and it's okay. It's not his fault. He's so full of love, and he finally gets to share it. He's so full of love, and his pack is thrilled that he shows them in his own way. Ugh. Nobody look at me.

[thatonegayship]

Hey man me again, it’s nearly 3am and i was curious. What would theoretically happen if someone (say a human bully, or a lesser uninformed demon or smthn of the sort) were to put down and talk absolute shit about Dipper with the anticipation of Bill joining in and/or being impressed and agreeing cause here’s this super cool and sexy guy surely he also thinks Dipper’s a useless freak right? How would Bill take this kinda confrontation about his husband? Would his reaction vary depending on wether or not Dipper was there? (I lowkey think it would but I’m just a worm in a bait bucket uk) (also sorry this comes across like a fucking critical thinking question from a middle school textbook)

At best someone talking shit about Dipper gets a long lecture about all the reasons Dipper is way, way cooler than them! And some broken bones. That's Bill's husband, he picked a great partner, and he is not going to pretend otherwise for someone else's ego.

The rant's absent if Dipper's around, but frankly? It'd be better for the bully/demon if Dipper was around to hear someone dissing him to Bill. In that Bill would refrain from the most gruesome acts within his mortal's sight.

Though if they're smart, they'll notice the way Bill's looking at them, and take that brief amount of time to run.

[sabertoothwalrus]

I'm going to think out loud about the dungeon meshi ages for a sec

I'm going to preface this by saying that this is based on my existing knowledge, and fact checking is difficult because there is A LOT of contentious research out there.

First of all, I think a lot of people come at this from a modern lens, forgetting the context that this is fantasy medieval era. this is fiction. on top of that, this is specifically Ryoko Kui's understanding of medieval era aging. plus fantasy. So before anyone comes at me with a bunch of 'ermmmm actualy's just consider that I don't really care and also it might not matter in this context lol

as far as the "age of maturity" assigned for each race, something I don't see many people talk about is that "teenagers" are a fairly recent concept. For a long time, you were either considered A Kid or Not A Kid. but this doesn't necessarily mean kids were more/less developed then, just our cultural expectations for certain age groups have changed.

Laios says the age of maturity for tallmen is 16. I don't think that means 16 year olds in the dungeon meshi universe are necessarily "more mature" than modern 16 year olds, but moreso that they have more responsibilities. However, things like medicine, smoking, drinking, sun exposure, physical activity, etc all affect age, so it's possible that developmentally they're closer to modern 18 year olds? Izutsumi is 17 (less than two weeks from turning 18, actually), and very much acts like a modern 17 year old.

The age of maturity for half-foots is 14. Chilchuck was 13 when he got married and had his first two children. Even though, at age 29, he's the equivalent of a modern 50 year old, I don't think he was That much more developed at 13 than a tallman. I think if half-foot 14 is equal to tallman 16, then Chilchuck was Pretty Damn Young for a parent LMAO. Even if you're generous and say tallman 16 is a modern 18, he still would've been younger than that.

The long-lived races are interesting. Marcille is obviously a unique case, and not a lot of this applies to her. We do know what Senshi was like as a minor (miner, lol), and he seemed like a modern 15ish, considering he was 36 and dwarf maturity is 40. I think it'd be really interesting to delve into how a culture functions with people being developmentally adolescent for soooooo long. Imagine middle school lasting 20 years. that would fucking suck. I suppose it makes sense why long-lived races are so patronizing.

Moving onto lifespans, I want to emphasize that they're average lifespans. Even in the manga, they say some half-foots live to 100, it's just rare. So it's less that a tallman 60 year old is "older" than a modern 60 year old, it's that it's easier to keep people alive for longer nowadays. Modern medicine is a BIG contributor. Dental health as well, considering how much your health is affected by your diet (and how much the action of chewing alone aids in digestion). Curious to know what the FUCK elven dentistry is like.

It also makes me wonder if half-foots would have a longer average lifespan if they weren't like, used for bait and treated so poorly, but half-foot 29 does seem to be middle-aged for half-foots. so who knows!

In that vein, I don't know if I can see Mithrun quite making it to 400 😬 like, his experience as a dungeon lord took a lot out of him quite literally, and he's doing exceptionally well despite it! I imagine he'd eventually start to develop a lot of heart problems if he doesn't have them already. Perhaps early-onset dementia. His memory seems still quite intact (he corrects Kabru on his story's accuracy) and he doesn't act like, lobotomized. He doesn't seem forgetful or confused, and he has a sense of humor/sarcasm still. It's mostly his task initiation that's been affected.

I almost want to say that mana affinity could affect long-lived races' lifespans, except dwarves have very poor tolerance for mana, so it's probably not that.

okay anyway I didn't really have a point to this post so I'm just gonna end my rambling here

[tealvenetianmask]

Hell's royalty has a culture that enables Stella's abusive behavior.

Point 1: Keeping up appearances is valued above all else. And I specifically mean the appearance of things being the way they're supposed to be. Conformity basically.

Conformity in this culture seems to include a kind of stoic dignity ("you know excitement is unbecoming of a goetia"), an air of superiority ("don't bow to that one- he bows to us!"), and, of course, some good old fashioned toxic masculinity ("cease this bitch crying").

Individuals at the very top are not immune. Even though he gets past it, Asmodeus seems to spend a lot of time and effort on keeping his relationship with Fizz quiet in order to keep up the appearance of fulfilling his "lust" role.

Point 2: The members of the aristocracy who don't conform are seen as the problem, not the members who are being cruel.

Speaking of Ozzie, there's a chance he'll face real consequences for getting out of line . . . Mammon seems pretty confident about getting revenge. Also, if Ozzie had decided that his reputation was important enough to avoid stepping in to help his partner, well . . . I'm just saying. Cultures of conformity create bystanders who stand by and let abuse happen. So it's good that this guy has the courage (and a good heap of privilege and power) to enable him to step out. Yes, I realize that the crowd at Mammon's celebrated Ozzie and Fizz, but the crowd was distinctly NOT aristocratic.

Now look at Stella's party- this woman is not subtle about being cruel to her husband.

She calls the party a "Not Divorced" party. She openly talks negatively about Stolas in a blatant attempt to humiliate him. She's not trying to hide that she hates the man.

Because he's . . . an oddball. Gentle, not as polished as others in his social sphere, awkward and mostly friendless, probably autistic. And importantly, I think, not traditionally masculine.

So Stella has no need to hide that she treats him poorly. She's proud of it. And her social circle seems to support her in it, or at least, they don't push back. Because based on the aristocracy's unspoken (or if we look at Paimon, very much spoken) value system, Stolas's failure to fulfill all of his expected roles gracefully is worse than Stella's cruelty.

Point 3: Stolas's parenting, while much better than his own father's, still reflects this value system in some ways, and that's . . . complicated.

In some ways, Octavia is doing great. She has her own interests (music! gothy fashion!) that don't seem to be based on any role prescribed to her by others. She has a genuine bond with her dad that's based on care and not on molding her into some ideal princess.

But Stolas still puts on an facade in front of Via. We know that he pretended things were fine when they distinctly weren't for most of her childhood. We could argue endlessly about whether Stolas was right (as Georgia Dow explained in her video) or wrong to stop himself from explaining the situation with Stella to Via in Loo Loo Land, but honestly, the man could let his nearly grown up daughter know that abuse was happening without all out trauma dumping. It would enable her to make more informed decisions, and I think she would want to be able to do that.

Instead, Stolas keeps it to himself. Because he feels like Via SHOULD have this picture perfect childhood. Look at the pictures that are up in his palace. Look at his attempt to gloss over the fighting in the household by taking Via to an idealized childhood destination.

A part of him still thinks that good parenting is keeping up appearances, and that the ugly things are best kept hidden. Look at how hard he still tries to avoid crying in front of people. The values he was taught as a child are part of him.

And while it's not his fault (it's Stella's fault, obviously- these are HER actions), his inability to be open allows Stella and Andrealphus to scheme and (we'll see . . .) probably manipulate Via because of her lack of knowledge.

We're meant to see the moments where Stolas breaks expectations and behaves raw and even a little unhinged as triumphant. Sleeping with Blitz. That is the sound of a fucking divorce. Actually going through with the fucking divorce. Insisting on it. Appearances be damned.

And yeah, more of that please. Because if the people around Stella stop caring about aristocratic social trappings, all she'll have going for her is her shitty personality.

Thanks @akirathedramaqueen for inspiring this post with a conversation.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

hello hello (　＾▽＾) if you're still taking requests, can I request headcanons about how would Deuce and Silver react and do to their s/o who's forcing themselves to go to school even when they're very sick, because they need to raise up their grades? Grim is already doing poorly enough, so they need to make up for that. Feel free to disregard this though if you can't do it. anyways, take care and have a good day!!

(also i really love your headcanons, you write the characters accurately imo and each headcanon is so neat to read through (* >ω<))

(Awww thank you, that's one of the greatest compliments I've received!!!)

Deuce Spade:

Deuce noticed how exhausted you had been in class the past week but bit his tongue for a few days, believing you were a person who knew your limits and that you wouldn’t push yourself beyond your capabilities. When he discovered that you were actually on the brink of passing out during a test is when he has to draw the line, telling you with a deep concern in his eyes that he wants to be someone you can rely on when you’re in trouble. His first thought when grades are mentioned is Riddle, though he doesn’t know if that would be much better for your stress – he promised to talk to his dorm leader about it, as long as you promised to rest. He felt guilty that he didn’t see this harmful behavior to yourself earlier, making a second promise to keep an eye on you and bear some of your burdens so you wouldn’t have to do so alone.

Silver:

Silver has always been the type to have a more direct line of confrontation. When he asked you why you were pushing yourself so much his brows furrowed in concern, understanding why you wanted to keep your grades high but not agreeing with your methods. The logical thing to think of was that your illness was making it harder for you to learn and get good grades, and that you’re simply pushing yourself to fail anyway. He puts his words in a much kinder light but the advice behind them is clear: you need to rest or else your grades will continue to suffer. He promised to help you with any subject you might have troubles with, and if it wasn’t something he specialized in, he would seek out help to assure you weren’t going to overwork yourself again.