#i feel like life would be so much easier if time just stopped

[gamorahww]

𝐅𝐈𝐘𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 ━ 𝑑𝑎𝑦 2. 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑟 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔

Today I'm holding space for the idea that in the context of the movie, dancing is a coping mechanism for Fiyero. While caring is a cure and a solution and an answer. I mean it is nothing new, but it needs to be said.

There will be a separate post on Dancing Through Life later today, but for now, we're starting from later. At history class, Fiyero voluntarily steps up to help the lion cub, and they make it all the way to the forest. Shortly after they are safe, and start talking, Elphaba says, "I know my life would be much easier if I didn't care, but—" and Fiyero cuts her off at exactly this point in her sentence. And I think that moment is crucial. Up until now, he’s never interrupted her before—but now he does and not because he’s frustrated with how much she talks, but because of what she’s saying. He doesn’t want to hear her talk about caring. That’s a pain point for him.

Because he knows it’s easier not to care. That’s the story he tells himself.

The lyrics in Dancing Through Life go: "Why think too hard when it's so soothing?" Soothing what? You don’t need to soothe something that doesn’t hurt. Soothing is only necessary when there’s an ache. To me this means he has cared before, and he has been hurt by caring before, and now he's coping with that by dancing through life. He is soothing his pain from secretly caring just too much, by dancing. Not because he doesn't care anymore about anything, but because he can't stop doing it, so he has to keep dancing. Dancing is loud, and visible. If he dances, people don't ask questions about his personality about what he thinks or how he feels. Maybe they haven't been doing it anyway, so he distracts them by doing his little dance, and as soon as they get too close, he pushes them away. But what he believes to be true for now is that caring = painful and dancing = a way to cope with that pain

But Elphaba just saw him care—deeply. She knows he’s capable of it. And she knows how unbearably sad it must be to choose to pretend otherwise. At the same time, she also understands how painful caring can be, she just highlighted is. In that moment, they find common ground.

But Fiyero’s façade—his carefree persona—is what he assumes people value in him most. So the second he realizes Elphaba doesn’t see him that way, he panics. He thinks that if she can see through him, it means she doesn’t want him there. No one has ever appreciated him for anything beyond the image he projects. So if that mask is gone… what’s left? Why would she still want him around, if he's not fun and happy and carefree? So he starts to leave.

And then she proves him wrong.

Not only does she say "she does (want his help)," but she physically holds onto him, keeping him there. The shock on his face (second gif from the bottom) says everything—he never expected someone to want him without the act. And later, when she touches his face so gently, you can see him struggling to process it. This is the most vulnerable he’s ever been, and it terrifies him. Not only that, but Elphaba sees a scar on his face, and sees that he has been hurt, without him noticing it. She reaches out and touches him gently, not really wanting anything, and he just can't bear it.

Her caring for him is not painful, it's soothing.

His Freudian slip a few beats later—"I better get to safety."—isn’t just about physical danger. This doesn’t feel safe. Being seen, being wanted for real, is the opposite of what he’s used to. Caring and being cared for are equally scary, but only the latter seems like a completely new experience for him. However, after feeling it, he finds something so real that he just yearns for it from now on. Yearns to be seen and touched and to be needed for something he did instinctively, without a thought, something he did because it felt right.

That’s why the later scene with Glinda is so important. When she holds his hand, the shot mirrors the moment with Elphaba—but with one key difference. Glinda is pulling him away, back into the world of pretense. But he can’t go back, not after this, and you can see him looking back at where he came from, back to the forest, back to Elphaba, back to being seen. For once, caring was not painful, and someone cared for him as well.

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Stand By Me

Part 2

Marshall knew your relationship with your mother was complicated.

You never talked about it much, but he noticed the way your body tensed when she called, the way your voice changed when you spoke to her. You’d plaster on a polite smile, but your eyes would dim, your shoulders would sink just a little.

At first, he didn’t push. He knew what it was like to have family issues, knew the guilt and obligation that came with it. But as time passed, he saw the way it weighed on you—how every conversation left you drained, how her words clung to you like poison long after the calls ended.

And he hated it.

Because he loved you. And watching someone tear you down, even if it was your own mother, made his blood boil.

But what could he do?

You were an adult. You had to navigate this on your own. So he did the only thing he could—he stayed by your side, ready to catch you whenever she knocked you down.

Until one night, he couldn’t stay silent anymore.

You hadn’t wanted to go.

Marshall could see it in your face when you told him your mom wanted to have dinner. The hesitation. The forced smile.

“You don’t have to go,” he reminded you gently.

“I know,” you sighed, “but it’s easier this way.”

That didn’t sit right with him. It never did.

But he didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed his keys. “Then I’m coming with you.”

Your smile, this time, was real. “Thank you.”

The dinner started off tense.

Your mother was polite—too polite, the kind of fake sweetness that Marshall had learned to recognize. She complimented the restaurant choice, asked about your job, made a few passing comments about how ‘different’ you looked (Was that supposed to be a compliment?).

You did what you always did—nodded, smiled, answered her in that careful, measured way that told him you were just trying to get through it.

And then?

Then she started in on you.

“I just don’t understand why you’re so distant lately,” she sighed, swirling her wine glass. “I mean, I am your mother.”

You tensed. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Too busy to call? Too busy to keep up with your own family?”

Marshall clenched his jaw.

You let out a breath, clearly trying to stay calm. “Mom, let’s not do this here.”

“Oh, so now I can’t even ask questions? I’m just supposed to sit here and pretend I don’t notice how much you’ve changed?”

Your fingers gripped the edge of the table, your knuckles going white. “I didn’t change.”

Your mother scoffed. “Of course you did. You used to be so sweet, so considerate. Now it’s like you don’t even care.”

That was it.

Marshall had kept his mouth shut for as long as he could, but seeing the way her words broke you, the way your shoulders curled in like you were trying to disappear—he wasn’t letting that slide.

He leaned forward, voice low but dangerous.

“Nah. She didn’t change. She just stopped lettin’ you control her.”

Silence.

Your mother blinked, clearly taken aback. “Excuse me?”

Marshall didn’t back down. His gaze was steady, unwavering. “You act like she owes you somethin’ just ‘cause you’re her mother. But family ain’t supposed to make you feel like shit.”

Your breath hitched.

Your mother narrowed her eyes at him. “This isn’t your business.”

“The hell it ain’t.” His voice was calm, but there was steel behind it. “She’s my wife. When you hurt her, it is my business.”

You stared at him, your heart in your throat.

He wasn’t just defending you. He was protecting you in a way no one ever had before.

Your mother scoffed, setting down her glass with a sharp clink. “I see. So this is what it is now? You’re letting him turn you against your own mother?”

Marshall laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “She don’t need me to do that. You did it all on your own.”

The tension at the table was suffocating. Your mother looked like she wanted to argue, but Marshall wasn’t giving her the chance. He turned to you, his expression softening.

“You ready to go, baby?”

You hesitated.

Then, for the first time in your life, you nodded.

“Yeah. I am.”

Marshall placed a few bills on the table, grabbed your hand, and led you out of the restaurant without looking back.

You didn’t speak until you were in the car, his hand still wrapped around yours.

Then, finally, you whispered, “I don’t know what to say.”

He glanced over, squeezing your fingers. “You don’t gotta say nothin’.”

You swallowed hard. “No one’s ever stood up for me like that before.”

His jaw tightened. “They should have.”

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes shining. “Thank you.”

He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Ain’t gotta thank me for that, baby. That’s just what you do when you love someone.”

Your chest ached, but for once, it wasn’t from hurt.

It was from knowing.

Knowing that no matter what happened, no matter who tried to tear you down—

Marshall would always be there to catch you.

[bajibitch]

Silly me - Clark Kent

"Your name?" The receptionist’ voice pulled you out of the shock you felt being at the infamous Daily Planet. You managed to say your name but it came out a bit shaky and he let out a soft chuckle. "You'll fit in great." The space you'd be working in was small like you expected but seeing the surrounding work spaces was a bit intimidating. It was easy to get distracted picking up pieces of the stories they chatted about but the dizziness that came with it was enough to remind you to focus. Where would you start, how was it that people found stories again?

“First day?” Looking up from your desk, you met a pair of enchanting blue eyes on a beautiful face. The smile he wore didn’t make it any easier to turn away. Your face was hot from the lack of preparedness, hopefully, he didn’t think you were forming a crush, it’d be embarrassing, he’d be right but you wouldn’t admit it.

“Is it obvious?” You thought you were playing it off well given that you managed to type out an exaggerated amount of the food article with little effort. “What am I doing wrong?” Surely an employee wouldn’t interrupt your work for nothing, or so you thought.

“Nothing, you seem to have it handled.” He eyed the screen with your nearly complete work. “I’m still cramming in yesterday's story.” His laugh was going to be in your mind later. Although it was short it managed to sound so wholesome and warming in the small time it had. “It’s just, I've never seen you around before.” His arm was resting on the computer monitor, if he was anyone else it would’ve irked you but he had good intentions so you’d ignore it for now.

“I started today, used to work at a different company in Oklahoma.“

“How was it there?” You considered offering him a chair to sit in since it felt as if he planned on hearing your life story.

“Given that it was my first job in journalism it’ll always have a special place in my heart, but I wanted to be somewhere more interesting.”

“You didn’t catch any stories?”

“Nothing worth mentioning, I did an article on food and the impacts of-” Nothing worth mentioning but I’ll list every one. You put a hand to your forehead as you cursed yourself for not catching the prattling sooner.

“Why’d you stop?” He took a glance around the office and stared back at you. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you sighed and went back to typing out your work. “I just have to finish this.”

“I’ll be out your hair then. It was nice meeting you… I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t get yours either.”

“Clark. Clark Kent.” You stopped your typing and locked eyes with him once again.

“Y/n.”

“Well, y/n, I’ll catch you later.”

The strange thing for you is that usually when people tell you that, they never meant it. It was more like an, I’ll see you should we meet again kinda ordeal, not a follow you out of the office kinda thing.

“What is it, Clark?” You turned to see him not too far behind. His suit seemed a tad too big for him but it added a soft look to him.

“Just checking in on you. How’d you feel about the job? It’s not too much is it?”

“You aren’t from here either, are you?” He tilted his head and his lips parted but nothing came out. “You’re nicer than plenty of the people I’ve met so far. Some of them get irritated from my smile alone.” That’s why you learned to hold a poker face, the city lost its charm rather quickly when you arrived. His shoulders dropped and his lips had its default curve that made him sweet on the eyes.

“I used to live out in the country too, but as much as they tried, they could never break my smile.” Oh, you had to admit by now that he was hard to hate, not that you ever did. His spirit was almost contagious, the smile on your face showing he already infected you, maybe a harmless work crush wouldn’t be bad after all.

“Ready to go?” The both of you turned to the woman who needed no introduction, her work spoke for itself, she was a bit of a celebrity herself. You were shocked to see him kiss her with no hesitation and looked away from the affection. It was clear he had no qualms with showing his love.

“See you, tomorrow.” Fuck my life. When you buckled yourself into the seat and began to drive away, you couldn’t help laughing at how naïve you were to think he wouldn’t be in a relationship.

[thebookbin]

TimKon Fic Recs Part 1.

So I mentioned in a reply to @oneswordstyle that I had a ton of TimKon fic recs and I was about to spam them with a million comments in the replies, but then I figured it was probably easier to do in a post. So here it goes. It also got too long so I split it into 2 parts.

Scions by Winterlive (Explicit) 2008 - 63K words - Complete

Tim Wayne, adopted son of Gotham mogul and secret vigilante Bruce Wayne, shows every sign of being his father's true successor - by day, and by night. Tim sets his sights on a valuable Metropolis lab for merger with Wayne Biotech, and all that stands in his way is the city's own rising star: Conner Luthor.

Note: I really love when characters get to grow up. I think Tim was a really fun teen to read about, and this fic explores him as a young business man and true heir to the Wayne legacy. Kon is Luthor’s son and prodigy in this, and it makes them interesting foils.

⭐️ call me cute and feed me sugar by suzukiblu (Teen) 2024 - 80K words - Ongoing

Tim Drake had absolutely no intentions of ever becoming anyone's sugar daddy when he met Superboy. This would have worked out better for him if Superboy had ever had an actual legal identity or an actual legal guardian or just . . . literally anything whatsoever in life. Ever. At all.

Just a bank account, even.

Note: Kon is fresh outta the test tube in this one, and despite the author’s facetious use of the word “sugar daddy” this is actually really sweet. Make sure to drop a comment and let the author know we’re excited for the next chapter!

Baby, Talk Me Down (Take Me Out) by sage (Teen) 2020 - 90K words - hiatus

Tim has been working too hard lately, and everyone is starting to notice. Bruce takes it upon himself to help Tim do some self-care and ships Tim off to the Kent farm for the summer, forcing him to take a well-earned vacation. Naturally, things get out of hand.

Note: This fic is on hiatus, so make sure to stop by and leave an encouraging comment, so we can get the ending this sweet story deserves. Tim finally gets a minute to breathe and really process all that’s been happening. He also gets to experience small town life but also he’s Tim so he gets himself into trouble. I find in a lot of fics, Kon always feels out of place or like he doesn’t quite belong, but he’s very settled and has really taken the time to learn who he is in this one, which I appreciated very much.

The Classic Shenanigans of Two Idiot Boys in Love by MashpotatoeQueen (Teen) 2021 - 94K words - Complete

In which the papers get hold of the fact that Timothy Drake-Wayne is dating another boy, Kon is all chill, Tim is no chill at all, the internet is flipping out, and Dick Grayson is quite possibly the greatest big brother of all time.

Note: An attempt to explore the public side of their relationship, a story told in vignettes.

⭐️ Stars Over Gotham by madaliz (Explicit) 2025 - 170K words - ongoing

Kon is tasked by the Planet to write the defining piece on Gotham City (no pressure). As he learns more about the city's first family and its criminal underbelly, he finds himself increasingly entangled with the mob and the vigilantes he's supposed to keep away from.

or

A story about how Kon and Tim grapple with their family legacies, fall in love, and team up to foil a conspiracy to ruin Gotham's hard earned order.

Note: Adults! Self-assured Kon! A really interesting world in which the Bats and the JL are completely separate and do not mingle. They are aware of each other but maintain strict rules. When Kon goes to Gotham in his civilian identity as a reporter his and Tim’s game of cat and mouse quickly turns into a Romeo and Juliet situation and I AM OBSESSED. There’s only 3 chapters left and I love this fic so much I’m dreading saying goodbye to it. Make sure to leave a comment to let the author know!

I’m alone here, I think by unluckyloki (Teen) 2019 - 93K words - Complete

Superboy is fighting robots in San Francisco and remembers something that wasn't. There's a new priest in the Naxos temple appointed by Dream of the Endless. Kon is missing something. Tim is missing everything. One day Krypto practically drags Superboy to a remote island in Europe and there's a dark haired guy smiling at Kon like he knows him.

Maybe he does.

Note: I’m not usually a fan of fics set in the cartoon Young Justice world, but this one is really special. The prose is exquisite, and it feels like reading an epic poem. Even though it’s kind of in the blurb it took me way too long to realize it was a Sandman crossover, but honestly you don’t really have to know anything about that. I’m also not usually a fan of ‘Tim Drake has magic AUs’ but again, I can read anything if it’s executed well, and this writer executes basically everything perfectly.

I Want it That Way (1990s Tim/Kon) by WynterSky (Series) - 140K words - Complete

On a field trip, Robin has a close encounter with the newest super in Metropolis, only to discover the hard way that Superboy secretly works for Lex Luthor. They agree to work together on a plan to free Superboy from Luthor’s hold, but Robin isn’t sure how far he can trust him—and his developing feelings only make things more complicated.

Note: Series says “not complete” but the series currently has 3 fics, which are all complete. Set int he 90s, which I think is perfect for superheroes. A lot of the mythos collapses with modern day technology. Fresh outta the test tube Kon is sort of held hostage by Lex Luthor, and young Tim realizes this and decides to save him. The 90’s setting is what MAKES this series something truly special.

buy back the secrets by sundiscus (Teen) 2024 - 90K words - Ongoing

He takes a long, slow breath. Ignores the glares from the other students. “Superboy,” he murmurs. “It’s me. If you’re listening, I could use some help.”

Or: 5 times Superboy saves Tim Drake, and one time Tim Drake saves Superboy.

Note: 1 chapter left! Don’t forget to leave a comment so we can let the author know how much we’re anticipating the last chapter. This is another love-square AU, I can’t help myself. In this one, they’re both skewed a bit younger, but they deal with the more heavy side of vigilantism.

Trust fall by Ididloveyou_once (Mature) 2021 - 22K words - Complete

‘Drake?’

Tim felt like he was choking. His throat was tight. He couldn’t swallow.

‘Damian?’ He managed.

Damian was… here. At Kent Farm. Dressed in the too-big Batman pajamas that Dick had bought him last Christmas as a joke. And- And-

Tim was wearing Kon’s t-shirt and his hair was messy and his lips were swollen and- He wasn’t ready for this- He wasn’t- He couldn’t-

How had he been so stupid?

Or: Tim comes out to Damian and prepares for the entire family to know by morning. It just so happens that Damian can keep a secret. Multiple, actually.

Note: Not usually a fan of Damian/Jon but I think this fic handles it well and is more of a puppy-crush than anything. This is a coming-out fic that deals in all those tropes, and I think handles it really well. Again, I’m not usually into the more fanon interpretation of Tim as a timid, neglected, anxiety-ridden wet cat, but this fic explores some insecurities without, I feel, straying too far from his actual characterization.

⭐️ First Kontact by Chiyana

Two years after a disastrous first encounter with an alien entity called Necros, Captain Tim Drake is given his first mission back in the field. The simple six-month exploration mission babysitting a group of LexCorp researchers goes abruptly downhill upon the discovery of a missing colony ship, landing Tim directly back into the horror that took him out of the field in the first place and leading him to his second first encounter with an alien race. Usually he's all for over-achieving, but even he finds this to be a bit excessive.

At least this time one of the aliens is more interested in him alive than dead.

Note: This may be my favorite fic I’ve ever read, like ever. This is a sci-fi au, where Tim is a captain, and the Kryptonians are space refugees after the destruction of their planet. The WORLD BUILDING is exquisite. I absolutely love Bart in this world. Also, despite the new world building, the explanation for Kon’s ostracism from the House of El is fantastic. This is one of those stories that has dug into my brain. Although, please mind the tags, it can be intense.

What happens in Vegas by Ididloveyou_once (Mature) 2022 - 92K words - Complete

57 missed calls.

Bart_ahhh tagged you and one other in a post

The Gazette (4 hours ago)

Bruce Wayne’s youngest eligible bachelor is off the market: Timothy Drake-Wayne eloped in Vegas [EXCLUSIVE pictures]

63 unread messag-

Tim jolted upright. His eyes scanned over the headline again. Timothy Drake-Wayne eloped… Timothy Drake-Wayne what?

And with who?

Or: Tim and Conner accidentally get married in Vegas and decide to stay that way until they can get quietly divorced. It’s simple. Except the Bats are detectives and the press is relentless and oh, Tim is hopelessly in love with his best frie- husband?

Note: classic accidentally married first, then fall in love. Obsessed with this fic, and the author has indicated it’s supposed to be a series, so I canNOT wait to see where this AU goes. Honestly Cassie is the most relatable person in this fic, because she totally believes that these two idiots would do something so ridiculous but what she can’t believe is the audacity to get spontaneously married on her birthday.

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

Sneak Peek of ch 6 of YGTWG

Style’s dad doesn’t look surprised to see him. But that’s not a shock. He’d already seen Kant last night after all. He’s not sure what he told him, but it’s possible he warned him about some of the things that have happened.  

Which could make this whole thing easier….or harder. 

Jay confirms it as soon as the door shuts behind them. “So, I’m going to assume you are here to fill in the blanks that Kant left?” 

“That depends,” Fadel replies, following him to the dining table. “What exactly did he tell you?”

The man gestures for Fadel to take a seat, and when he does he also sits down and begins speaking. “He came here late last night, but didn’t stay for long. He was banged up pretty good, but wouldn’t tell me what happened. He just started talking about how he was blackmailed by a police officer and got Style involved in something shady. He told me that if a Captain by the name of Christ showed up, that I shouldn’t tell him anything about Style…or you. He said I also shouldn’t trust anything he says about you guys, and that if you showed up before Kant had a chance to return with news of Style, that I should listen to what you have to say.”

Fadel is kind of shocked by this news. Kant had warned him about the police officer and hadn’t revealed anything too damning. He had also thought that Fadel would come here and make things right. Which…yeah, Fadel wouldn't have left Style's dad hanging like thst, but for Kant to acknowledge it…well, it means something to Fadel. And he doesn’t like it, but he feels a little bit grateful to the bastard for taking the tome to come here last night,  and for telling Jay to listen to Fadel. It’s going to make this all a bit easier now. 

“Kant was right to warn you and he was also right to think that I would come here.” He begins, “But before I tell you what I came here to say,” he pauses and takes a grounding breath. “I want you to know that I truly and sincerely love your son.”

The man in front of him simply smiles and says. “I know.” 

That throws Fadel for a loop. “You…know?” 

He nods and puts a gentle hand on Fadel’s shoulder. “Son, there are some things you come to learn about life once you’re as old as I am. And one of them is that sometimes, it’s not about the words you say. It’s about your actions and the way you look at someone. And I’ve seen the way you look at my son.”  Fadel’s chest grows tighter with his words. “I can tell that you love him. Maybe even more than he loves you.”

“If he was smarter, he wouldn’t love me at all.” He replies quietly and stands up from the chair, preparing himself for what comes next. 

And now it’s Jay’s turn to look apprehensive. “Why-”

Before he can get the question out, Fadel drops to his knees and wai’s deeply to him. 

“What are you-”

“The reason I’m here right now, and the reason Kant was here, is because Style was taken by a dangerous organization yesterday morning and was seriously injured.” He can tell that he’s about to ask more questions so he barrels on. “And while I wasn’t the one that harmed him, what transpired happened because of his affiliation with me. I don’t expect you to forgive me for this transgression, but I had to come here to explain with my own mouth what happened.” 

His voice sounds panicked when he asks, “What do you mean injured? How bad is it?” 

“The important thing is that he is okay now. His life isn’t in danger. But I’m not going to lie to you.” He finally looks up at Style’s father, because he feels that he needs to look the man in the eye when he tells him this. He deserves that much. “It was really bad. He was beaten and stabbed. They had him for over four hours before I was able to get help to find him and intervene. I got there in time to stop the man that took him and Kant was able to stabilize him enough that we could get him to a doctor in time, but he had to have emergency surgery. Some of his injuries are extensive.”

Jay’s eyes look almost hollowed out and his face is quickly changing from confused worry to anger. “You said he was taken? As in kidnapped? By who? Why would they take Style?”

“He didn’t do anything wrong. They took him because of me. It’s my fault.” He can’t bear to see the disappointment on the man's face so he stares back at the floor. “I used to work for a company that has ties with the underground Mafia. I was raised by the owner after my parents were murdered and I was made to do…. unsavory things…but I’d been trying to get away for the last few years. I opened the restaurant and my brother and I were making plans for our escape…for our future. This was our chance to get out, and when I met Style I thought…well…I was naive to think that she was going to let us go without a fight. Style was collateral damage that I didn’t see coming. But I should have. And I will forever regret not realizing the danger he was in.” 

“You said you stopped the person who hurt him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Did you make him pay?” Fadel’s eyes snap back to Style’s fathers. He looks serious. He wants to know. And Fadel finds that he wants to tell him. “Yes.”

[cheerysmores]

Here's the story! (AO3)

Freedom. 

The word tastes of some long-forgotten language on Asatrion’s tongue, as rotted away as the memories of his face. It was something he prayed for once. He’d roll over as his siblings slept, murmuring near-silent words to every God he could remember seeing venerated in the city. And as the nights drew on, those whispers became more honeyed, his offerings desperate. His body, his blood, his unlife, he’d leave it all at those perfectly polished statues if it meant something could hear him.

“Why me?”

He’d gotten his answer the day he'd been fool enough to let that question slip between the palace walls. He’d woken face down in the kennel, it easier to count which parts of him weren’t broken or missing. A snap came from somewhere, then a voice, maybe his own, screaming in the darkness.

Cazador’s words had come much later, cold as chains through Godey’s twisted jaw bone:

“Is that clear enough for you?”

That was the night he learned that those statues were nothing but stone.

Freedom. He turns the word over again. After centuries of silently screaming for it, banging at the bars clamped around his mind and his body, it’s almost strange to have it. He’d pictured it loud and triumphant as he boiled Cazador’s corpse and kept his skull for a chalice. Instead it’s… quiet. The night is still, the cemetery’s path deserted. He rests naked and sweaty against his own gravestone with the only person he’s ever cared for dozing against his shoulder. 

He feels the epitaph pressing into his back: ‘In loving memory.’ It’s almost comical how shit of a choice that was, most likely picked by some random official who’d forgotten his name the second it left their desk. He’d stopped considering who might have come to his funeral long ago. Those faces, the choices that left him bleeding on the street that night– it’s all rotting underneath him now.

He touches the grooves of his name, rain-slicked and old. That he still has. But what else? He’s no longer a slave, not the prettiest lamb trotted out for slaughter, only hurt in the places he can’t use to lure back prey for his master.

He flinches as visions of his bloody fingers scrabbling at cold tomb walls swim unbidden into his mind.

No. Not his master, not anymore. He’d stabbed Cazaodor again and again and again until his hands were soaked with death. And then… nothing, just the familiar thud of a body hitting the floor. After all that monster had done, the all-powerful Cazador Szarr is just another corpse left in their wake. There was no fanfare or cheering or lights igniting inside him. Even the stars as they’d left the palace were no brighter. 

He remembers counting them through the bedroom window whenever he was forced to go through the tired play of his seduction. Sometimes his mind would leave his flesh completely, wishing he could flit amongst those very stars and spit on the Gods while he was there.

“Are you alright?” Tav’s lips suddenly move against his shoulder. 

He brushes a damp strand of hair from their forehead, his smile back in place. “After that? I was hoping you wouldn’t need to ask.”

They jab his side. “You know, you’re not as good a liar as you believe. And you’re thinking so loudly I can hear it from here.” They shift onto his lap, gently moving his chin until he’s looking at them properly. Their eyes are soft but he can feel them looking right through to the silent stone of his heart. Even so cold, he’s sure their hands could almost make it beat again, cracks and all.

Ah. Love. That’s what’s left. The thought is so saccharine he isn’t sure if he wants to have them again right now or throw himself in the river.

“Now, are you alright?” they say, quieter this time.

Gods, what a question. He’s had 200 years of enslavement, a few tendays of parasite-fuelled chaos, what tomorrow might bring he has no bloody idea. He lifts their hand, presses his lips to each knuckle, then the delicate web of veins at their wrist. It thrums with life, of something they can share together when they survive this— if they survive this, he supposes.

He brushes the fresh bite at their neck. It’s still flushed, still so much smaller than his own. 

“For once, I’d say that I actually feel like me.”

***

He’s burning.

He saved the world, reduced the Netherbrain to the wreckage in front of them and he’s burning. The caress of the sunset turns to fire against his skin. It slices with a malice he’d almost forgotten, his arms, his hands, his face– all smouldering like lit parchment.

He staggers back, hissing in pain.

The parasite really is dead, and it dragged his life in the sun into the abyss with it.

Something grabs his shoulder, Tav he realises. Their body shakes with coughs as the stench of copper and smoke engulfs them both.

“Astarion–”

Disgust breaks in their eyes as his skin crumbles under their fingers. It falls to dust between them, a cruel reminder of exactly what he still is. He shoves them away with all the strength he has left. 

“I have to go. Now.” They can’t see him like this, no one can.

He runs from the pier, from the sun, from them, away away away until he’s gasping and alone under a tarp. He wants to break something, hurt someone the way he hurts now. What was the point of all those disgustingly good deeds, of giving up the power to keep himself safe if he was still fated to flee like a rat once the game was over.

He crawls further underneath the cover and back into the old embrace of the shadows. 

Midnight has come and gone by the time he walks back to the pier. It’s empty now, the brain nothing but an ugly lump on the oil-black surface of the Chionthar. A handful of stars shine from the horizon and to the spot where his reflection should be, yet another reminder that he cannot simply wash away his past like the blood still dried to his fingers. 

He kicks some debris into the water and watches them ripple. They’re the same stars as 200 years ago. Still cold. Still silent. The pattern of Jassa's Dagger glints in front of him, pointing west and out of the city. His foot pauses between kicks. There’s nothing to stop him following that path now. He could go anywhere, turn around and do– Gods what would he do? There are the other spawn waiting red-eyed and ravenous in the underdark. He supposes could help them…. or he could never think of them again. He could simply take his blade, pilfer some poor soul’s purse and see where the night takes him. 

He contemplates throwing himself in the water and just letting the current wash him away. It can’t flow back to its beginning and neither can he, maybe it will spit him out somewhere nice. He grimaces as he touches the surface, still thick with illithid slime. 

Alright, maybe not that particular plan. Forward it is then. 

There’s just one person to pick up first.

He finds Tav in what remains of the Elfsong. They’re curled asleep, their clothes still on and a candle burned down to nothing beside the bed. They turn in the darkness the moment he sits on the mattress. 

“You’re a bastard.”

He pulls off his boots, chuckling softly. “Good evening to you too, darling.”

“Do you know how long I spent searching for you? That we all did?” Concern cuts through their tired rasp. He avoids their gaze, busying himself with the ties of his armour. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t come back for you? I’m hurt.”

He narrowly dodges the pillow that flies at his head.

“I wanted to help, you idiot.”

The tiniest thread of guilt twinges through him. Someone wanting to give rather than rip pieces out of him is still a strange concept, no matter how many times they’ve proven it. 

He sighs as they slowly brush their fingers through his hair. 

“That version of me is not something you wanted to see– some creature fleeing into the dark. A ghoul, a shadow–” He grunts when the tie to his pauldron snags. “Whatever I am now.”

They touch his forearm, halting his movements. “How about hero?”

The word curdles inside him. He’d seen plenty drowning in their cups at Sharess’ Caress, blind or ignorant to the walls of the Szarr palace. Night after night he’d sat with the other shiny toys on display, waiting for one to notice the flicker behind such a clearly painted smile. 

Maybe he can be better. Maybe worse. They do seem to be paid very well…

“That would have positively disgusted me once,” he whispers as they take over, pulling until his armour falls to the mattress with a soft thud. 

“Whether you like it or not we fit the description now. There are already half a dozen drinking songs carrying our names. And since you missed those drinks–” They pull down their collar, throat bared in clear invitation. He buries his face into that familiar curve, inhaling deeply. He can almost smell the sun still on them, golden and warm.

“Perhaps it’s not so terrible when you call me that,” he whispers, biting into the apple of their skin.

“How about if we do it together?” 

Blood drips from his mouth as he pulls back, peppering their shirt with rosy spots of gore. “Well that depends. Is this really what you want?” Am I, is what he doesn’t say. He’s not afraid of his own darkness, not anymore, but if it takes away his one last slice of sunshine in this world…

There’s no hesitation as Tav brushes the blood from his chin, ruining their shirt further. “I love you, every version that might come to pass. And whatever the future holds, I want to be there.”

Their mouth is on his before he can answer, whispering away the taste of that ridiculous question for good.

Whatever the future holds. He can almost picture it, some boundless path stretching on into a thousand-thousand years of possibilities, Tav’s hand in his and a blade in the other. With everything that’s been taken from him, maybe it’s finally time to start rebuilding himself, piece by jagged piece.

He collapses on the bed with them, pulling away for only a second to murmur against their lips. “Then we are going to have an awful lot of fun, my love.”

***

Make sure to check out the other pieces from @bg3tarotdeck

✨ THE STAR | HOPE, HEALING, RENEWAL

My piece for the @bg3tarotdeck. What a pleasure it's been!

Big thanks to the project’s organisers, its incredible creatives, and especially to @cheerysmores for being such a wonderful partner and writing a stunning accompaniment to this piece.

[stardust41]

. TW PERSONAL VENT!!!

(Because i cant talk to anyone about this rn)

[rudnitskaia]

yay a week until my 29th bday ✨🔥😎🔥✨

[binders-and-beanies]

.

[eosofspades]

okay so maybe it was just me being ahead of the curve or whatever but like. did anyone else have their ultimate misery / severe depression era during middle school instead of high school?

[michi-chelle]

“but i fear that they already got all the best parts of me” goes so hard

[peapod20001]

I actually do have very complex thoughts about many different things, it’s just a bit challenging to connect the inner voice to the outer voice sometimes </3

[castingcomets]

Every summer I feel like i've grown a lot and I'll do better this time around but then the Autumn hits and the specific way it makes me feel has changed and grown and compounded too and now like every year im sitting here with so much homework feeling so lost and uncertain. And I want to make cookies

[bubblegumbeyotch]

.

[mars-ipan]

sometimes it’s hard to remove myself from school and remember that i’ve always loved to learn

[uchiha-gaeshi]

Issues with Writing a Self-Insert #1

In case y'all didn't know, I've been going through a reflective period recently, and I've noticed that fear of what others think has held me back in almost every single aspect of my life, and unfortunately fandom is no exception.

I remember when I was like 14 and I tried to write fanfiction for the first time (I don't remember even what fandom I was writing for). Unfortunately, I could barely type a single paragraph without immediately deleting all that I wrote and being overly critical of my lack of writing ability. Even at that age, in the privacy of my dorm room, I couldn't shake off the fear of failure (and I mean howw?? I wasn't the only 14 year old trying to write Wattpad fanfiction). I remember comparing myself to some of my peers who had an amazing talent for writing. For me, I didn't get jealous, but rather I got intimidated, so intimidated that instead of continuing on with something and being imperfect at it, I'd just drop the entire activity altogether.

Because of this habit, I missed out on a lot of potential opportunities for growth during this time. I guess I saw people who were amazing, assumed that they popped out of the womb like that or something, and just....gave up. If I could go back in time, I would tell young me to embrace the cringe, embrace the mess. So what if people laugh or look at you funny or immediately stop whispering to each other once they see you? It sucks, but you will find your people, and you will survive. Trying to be palatable to everyone just means that you stifle yourself.

Years later, I wanted to get back into fanfiction, but this time with very little creative writing experience. What held me back was the fear that someone would read something that I wrote and ridicule it for being something that only an angsty teen would write, except that I am no longer an angsty teen but an unfortunately angsty adult riddled with insecurity, and that reality would just make that hypothetical comment sting even more (that's another thing about me. I create hypothetical ways for people to roast me in order to talk myself out of doing stuff).