#i've had these for YEARS and i can't keep hauling these with me every time i move. other people would enjoy these more than me

[suntails]

i'm clearing out some of my old merch and having a little online garage sale!!! i have a ton of merch for bnha, haikyuu, danganronpa, etc. and charms, enamel pins, standees, plushies, and more!! i'm happy to do some type of discount if getting a bunch of items, i would rather these go to loving homes than get thrown out/recycled. lmk if you have any questions!! <3

[woso-dreamzzz]

Bug's Halloween

Leah Williamson x Child!Reader

Summary: The tenth of my Halloween-centric fics

"Sorry, Bug," Leah says, switching off her phone," But Bear's having an early night. She's already asleep."

You pout as you stand on the stairs. "But you said Bear could come with!"

"I know, Bug," Leah says, tying the laces of your boots," But you know Bear can't help it when she falls asleep."

"Auntie Keira said they have to go to doctor's soon."

"That's right, to look at Bear's sleep. So we have to make adjustments sometimes. I know you wanted to go trick or treating with Bear but Auntie Lucy is keeping Bear in tonight. She doesn't have the energy to go out so it's just going to be us."

"But it's Halloween! I dressed up just for her!"

Leah breaths out some soft laughter. "I thought you dressed up for Mummy."

"Her too."

You're wearing your special Nobbs Arsenal shirt and shorts today. You'd known you wanted to dress as a footballer for Halloween for ages and ages, you just didn't know which one.

Your first thought was Thierry Henry but Leah's old Henry shirt from when she was little didn't fit you properly so you couldn't wear it. Your next thought was Sarina but you couldn't find an outfit for when she was a player.

That's when Leah reminded you that your old Nobbs kit still fit you and you decided to go out as Mummy instead.

You were meant to be going out with Bear. Last year, Bear and her mummies dressed as the three bears from Goldilocks and you're pretty sure Bear was going to remain baby bear for this year too but now she's sleeping and you know better than to wake Bear when she's sleeping.

You're sad that she can't come with but that means you can work doubly hard to get enough sweeties for the both of you.

"You ready?" Leah asks and you nod, jumping down the last two steps.

"Ready!"

"Right, up against the wall please. I want to send a picture to Mummy."

You pose for a few pictures before you grab your ghost bucket and nearly bolt down the street.

Leah grabs your hand first though, keeping you close to her side before you can get too far away.

"Let's go!" You whine when Leah starts walking slowly.

"We've got plenty of time, Bug. We can take it slow."

You huff but stop pulling, letting Leah dictate the pace and which houses to go to.

"Remember," She says, straightening out your jersey and handing you your bucket," Smile. Nice and big. They'll think you're cute."

"But I am cute. Mummy calls me cute all the time."

Leah laughs, giving you a little push. "Go on."

The couple at the door coo and fawn over you as you give them your biggest and best smile.

"Can I take one for my friend? She's sick and couldn't come out today."

"Oh, you go right ahead, sweetheart."

You frown at that. "I'm not sweetheart. I'm Bug."

The couple coo again as you take Bear's share and you run back to Leah to show her your haul.

"You can't keep telling people Bear is sick," She says as you both walk to the next house.

"But she is," You say," Auntie Lucy and Auntie Keira are taking her to the doctor's. You don't go to the doctor's if you're not stick. Mummy had to take me when I had my sore throat. I was sick then."

"Doctors do more than just sick people," Leah complains," They look after hurt people and-"

"Bear's hurt?! Like when she fell and hurt her arm?!"

"Bear's not hurt," Leah says," But sleeping as much as her is worrying for Keira and Lucy. They just want to make sure that there's nothing in Bear's body that isn't working properly. That's why they're taking her to the doctor."

You guess that kind of makes sense.

Doctor trips are kind of scary in a weird way. Not a Halloween-scary way but just in a generic scary way. Like the scary kind of feeling you got when you saw Leah tear her ACL.

You imagine a trip to the doctor will be doubly scary for Bear so you make sure to take a bigger handful of sweets for her at every house.

"When can we see Bear next?" You ask as Leah unlocks the door," Because I've got sweeties for her. I want her to have them before her doctor's meeting. Sweeties always makes things better."

Leah smiles softly at you, hand running over your head as you look up at her.

"You're a good friend, Bug. I'm sure Bear would love some sweets before her appointment."

You nod. "Good because I collected a lot for her."

"Alright, Bug," Leah says," That's enough excitement for tonight. Let's get you ready for bed."

"And Halloween movies in your bed? Mum, you promised."

Leah sighs. "Fine, yes, but then you have to promise to go to sleep. We've got a busy day tomorrow."

You grin. "Promise!"

[teaboot]

I'm surprised/impressed? by how blase you are about people threatening you at work. A neighbor threatened me last week and it was so scary and I wish I could have had the same kinda response you seem to.

First off, I hope you're safe and okay, that's an awful experience to be familiar with and especially bad that they live so close to you D:

Second, I'm certainly no maverick out here- I've only been doing this a few years now- but I've found that about 99% of threats I receive have very little intent to follow through.

The type of threats I usually receive are typically from:

Someone who's had bad experiences with security or police, in the past. People with hand and face tattoos, homeless folks, people with mannerisms that get them labeled as "sketchy", POC, and people who've been incarcerated all have valid reason to believe I'm out to get them, and may get treated badly elsewhere often enough that they're expecting that. Every time I approach someone, I have to take this into account and do everything I can to signal that they haven't been profiled based on preexisting stereotypes.

Someone experiencing the symptoms of a mental health condition. People with mental illnesses are statistically victims of crime more often than they are perpetrators. That said, I have run into people before whose mental illness can present as aggression- if someone behaving erratically or is known for that sort of thing tells me they're gonna blow my brains out, but I can clearly see they're unarmed, not coming towards me, haven't hurt anyone, and show no intent of escalating, I'm probably not in danger. A few people I've met will see me again in a day or two and will have no problems with me at all.

Someone who is scared, frustrated, anxious, or grieving. Not to excuse violence in any context, but in my experience 99% of people who blow up at me aren't actually thinking about me. Anger isn't so much an emotion in a lot of ways as it is the reaction to another emotion- if someone tells me they're gonna kick my ass, I have to question if there's anything they may be frightened, frustrated, or sad about something else entirely. If I can address and resolve what's causing the anxiety, the anger usually goes away next. If I can't deescalate, my next job is to disengage and make sure myself and others aren't at risk of harm.

People who want something from me. This does not happen often. Maybe they want me to back off, or leave them alone, or let them take something, whatever- maybe they think I'm someone with clearance to use physical force, or they think my flashlight is pepper spray. Whatever it is, once they've made it clear they're willing to act, I back off. Unless they're hurting another person, nothing they want is worth getting stabbed or shot over. And physical conflict is insanely stressful, even for the attacker, so even then whoever threatening me will likely take any "out" I can give- I keep paths of escape clear, stay out of range, keep calm and respectful. Every time this has happened to me, the person has run away when given the chance.

People who genuinely want to hurt me and intend to follow through. Again, this is super uncommon- I think it's only really happened to me once or twice on the job. Yes, it's scary, but I find it helps to remember that they arent after me, they're after the uniform. If someone is coming after me in costume, so to speak, it's not who I am as a person, it's what I represent. And a lot of people seem to think I'm a cop, or see me as a faceless goon, or a past abuser, or an intruder in their life specifically sent to make them miserable. If that's what they believe, there's not much I can do to change their mind except, again, stay calm and respectful and disengage.

I do know how to defend myself to an extent, but again, I don't have weapons or restraints or a vest or anything and I'm kinda small on top of that so really I'm cool with hauling ass if I gotta. If me getting the fuck out of dodge resolves the issue then I'm not above radio'ing HQ from the top of a tree somewhere, that shit is above my pay grade.

TL/DR in my personal limited experience, someone who has told me that they're going to hurt me wouldn't have given me the warning unless there was something I could do to avoid it. Stay calm, don't yell, be respectful, give them an escape route and run if you need to

Stay safe out there, yeah?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for outing my father at his old job?

I (M22) recently got a job hauling hazmat across the US in a semi. I had to take tests to not only receive my CDL, but to know what to do in case of an emergency when hauling things like explosives, flammables, corrosives, etc. The hazardous material part of the test was done on computer on site, however if you fail they let you log in and try again from home. But I passed that part right away because I already knew everything that would be on the test.

My father (M53) worked the same job for the same company and when I was in middle and high school, and pressured me into taking the hazardous material test for him so he could get the job. His reasoning was he had been out of school for so long he wasn't good at studying for tests, but I was used to it. Plus he was dyslexic and ADHD (both true), and he would probably fail the test no matter how many times he tried it because he couldn't read well or pay attention. I said it was probably important for him to know this stuff since it IS hazardous material, but he said he DID know everything he needed to, he was just bad at tests. And that if I didn't take it for him he would fail, and then he would be unemployed, and then we would be out on the street and it would be my fault. So I studied his hazardous materials booklet front to back and took the test for him and he passed.

It didn't stop there, though. With this job you're also required to take refresher safety courses online every week, and you can't get your next assignment till you pass. He used the same argument to get me to take those tests for him every week as well, until I knew everything about the placards and hazmat and road safety etc better than he did.

The trainer (M49) I was assigned was friends with my dad when he worked here, and said something like "If you're as quick a study as your dad then you'll be our best driver," and I said something like "I've been your best driver for almost a decade, you just didn't know it." He asked what I meant and I told him how I was the one taking those safety tests for my dad every week until he quit 3 years ago, and actually he quit because I was moving out and I said no to coming over to his house every week to keep taking the test for him.

I told the trainer because A) I thought it didn't matter because my dad didn't work there anymore, and B) Honestly? I've never really gotten along with my dad, and some part of me wanted to tell on him for one of the many things he pressured me into doing as a kid. I expected to make him lose a friend, maybe tarnish his "perfect" reputation a little bit, but it's gotten a lot bigger than that.

My dad doesn't work with hazmat anymore, but he did have a job delivering food to nearby grocery stores that he apparently lost because that trainer called and told his boss what I told him, and my dad called me and cussed me out and said because of me he probably would lose his CDL and not be able to be a truck driver anymore, and that's all he knows. He's not exactly rich, either, so he's probably just a couple missed paychecks away from being in serious trouble, and he also lost his health insurance. I for sure didn't mean for it to go this far. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[sen-ya]

Life After Info Post

[Click here to access the Life After Digital Comic Book]

Summary: Two years ago, a viral outbreak rose the dead. Considering how his life had gone up to this point, surgeon Trafalgar Law figured this might as well happen too. When a supply run into the nearby city gets intercepted by a seemingly reckless and impulsive former patient, the dependable routine Law had settled into in this new life shatters. He finds himself exposed — his body out in the infected landscape, his conscious clawing to define what he believes is right, his heart begrudgingly deciding to find a new home on his sleeve. Maybe there’s more than a virus roaming the new world that can bring a dead man back to life.

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence, zombies/body horror (but lbr I am not good at making scary things look scary)

Relationships: Luffy x Law

Update Schedule: New page every Monday/Wednesday/Friday

Page Count: [37 posted | 55 drawn]

Latest Update: [7/21/24] WOWEE did I get myself carried away this morning. I just spent 5 hours organizing my comics and creating the digital comic book pages. I could have spent that time drawing or idk not doing what I do for my job, but I cannot be stopped. Anyway I blocked out 30 pages of this comic last week and they include the most intense action sequence I've ever done in my gotdang life. Wish me luck because I am nervous about tying down all my drawings lmao.

OLD UPDATES:

[6/29/24] HULLO! I'm doing so bad at keeping my masterposts updated lately I am sorry. All pages of life after are tagged life after if you're ever looking between masterpost updates! Also exciting update, I finally have figured out all the different plot points i'm gonna be hitting (yay!). I got hung up on something for awhile that made me not wanna work on this project, but I'm back at it. I think we'll end up with 6-7 parts! I have probably another 80-100 pages to draw lol. Also i got the app Magic Poser and it's AWESOME and I immediately used it to block out sets cuz MAN I hate backgrounds.

[6/10/24] HELLO. I'm sorry I've been shit at updating my masterposts lately. It's easiest to do from my computer, which I rarely use, and life has been happening. I also can't believe I bungled the queue and posted pg19 before pg18 i am very sorry 🤦 Eventually I'll have to turn this into an airtable base I'm sure, but until that day comes where I have like 100 pages of this comic we're stickin to the regular post lmao

[5/26/23] I got real caught up in doing summer of lawlu comics this week and this is the first week since the first week of April I haven't drawn new Life After pages and it feels weird 🙊

[5/19/24] More Luffy backstory comin' this week! :^)

[5/12/24] Updating now so get myself on schedule to update on Sundays like I had been with my other comic master post!

[5/8/24] Thank you to everyone who's liked/reblogged/comment on the first few pages!! It means the world to me that anyone's reading my silly little comics.

[4/28/24] HULLO. It’s happeninnng. I’ve spent the last few weeks working on this comic, and I gotta make this post so I can start queuing pages & link this in them! This is the most like….legit? Comic endeavor I’ve undertaken perhaps….ever. I’m very nervous about committing to how long it will need to be lol. This story is dear to my heart — zombie content is kind of my very favorite. I’ve always found it to be a great backdrop for exploring themes like grief, coping with change, community, and learning to live again. It’ll be a long haul but I hope you’ll ride it out with me!! Tomorrow I’ll be posting the first two pages. After that a page will post every Monday/Wednesday/Friday. As of this post I’ve completed over 20 pages so that I have a good lead on what’s posting and continuing to write, so I’m hopeful that’s a cadence I’ll be able to maintain. I’ll update this post weekly to include the most recent pages the way I do with my main comics master post. All pages will be tagged 'Life After' and I'll tag any pages with zombies in them with 'zombie' for blacklisting etc.

[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.

[unclewaynemunson]

More often than not, it doesn't work out.

Robin first learned that lesson with Vickie, when she thought she found the love of her life but ended up breaking things off because the way in which Vickie mirrored her anxiety back to her enhanced it tenfold and it turned out to be completely exhausting to keep up with that after the first wave of butterflies had died down.

After Vickie, there was Laura. Laura, with whom it seemed to work out until she told Robin that she couldn't bear keeping up with her weird, unsettling and way too vivid nightmares about Russian spies and monsters from fantasy stories every other night.

After Laura, there was Julia. Julia, who was amazing for four whole months until she told Robin with tears in her eyes that she couldn't tolerate the cheating anymore. It didn't matter how often Robin told her that sleeping with someone didn't necessarily mean sleeping with someone, that Steve was like a brother to her – and that the whole thing was utterly ridiculous in the first place because Robin was very much a lesbian. Needless to say, it didn't work out.

Then, there was Amy. Amy, who, like a cruel twist of fate, actually cheated on Robin. It was only a one-time thing, a drunken kiss during some stupid party, but it was enough to damage Robin's trust in her irreparably. So it didn't work out.

Up until then, she had chalked it up to a string of bad luck or maybe bad taste. But after Louise (who brought up the nightmares again), Valerie (who wanted some adventure in the bedroom and had to guide Robin through a panic attack filled with inexplicable flashbacks when she tried tying her to the bedframe), and Mathilde (who made a problem of Robin's regular 3am calls with Steve when neither of them could sleep), she starts to wonder if it wouldn't be more probable that it is herself who is the problem instead of this whole list of girls.

��Don't you dare say that about yourself,” says Nancy with fire in her voice when Robin finally dares to voice that thought out loud.

They're both lying down on Nancy's brand new couch, a pair of legs dangling over each side and their heads right next to each other in the middle. Except for that couch, the living room is still empty. Boxes are piled up everywhere, still waiting to be unpacked, but they can wait a little longer.

Robin is happy to have Nancy at her side again. It's been a while: college and differing career paths kept them separated through the majority of their friendship. But now Nancy has found her way back to Indiana, only half an hour away from where Robin has been living with Steve and Eddie ever since Mathilde broke up with her a few months ago.

She hasn't really been dating anyone since, and now that Nancy is also living in Indianapolis, she wonders if she'll ever feel the need to. No girl would ever be able to compare to Nancy Wheeler, after all; Robin knew that much as soon as she saw Nancy stepping out of the U-Haul wearing pastel-pink dungarees, with all grown-out curls cascading over her back and a thick layer of eyeliner around her beautiful doe eyes.

“Well, it could be true,” Robin presses on.

“No it can't!” Nancy says it in such an indignant tone that it makes Robin snort skeptically.

“I'm serious, Rob.” It sounds stern. “I know you and I know it's not true. It's not your fault.”

“You're seriously telling me I've been dating seven girls over the past seven years, and none of it worked out, and it's all because of them? All those relationships were wildly different; I'm the one consistent factor in all of them, Nance.”

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean you're the problem.” Nancy says it like it's obvious. “Maybe the problem is that you've been picking girls who all have one single thing in common, and that is that they never wanted to make the effort to really listen to you.”

"Huh." Robin closes her eyes for a second, taking her time to let those words sink in. She never thought about it that way. “You think so?”

“Yeah. Mathilde was a bitch anyway,” Nancy says matter-of-factly. “I mean, did she ever ask you to explain why you've been feeling the need to call Steve in the middle of the night lately?”

Robin shrugs. “That's a bit difficult to explain, isn't it?” she points out.

“That's what I'm saying,” says Nancy. “It's exactly why you keep picking out those kind of girls. Because if you're with someone who will actually listen to your story, you're gonna have a problem. Right?”

And, well, shit. It's not like Robin asked for a free therapy session here, but... Nancy is right. Of course she is. She always is.

Robin turns her head to the side, exchanging her view on the white ceiling for a much better one: Nancy's face, so close to her own that she can take in every little detail. The elegant slope of her nose, the wing of her eyeliner, the freckles on her cheeks, her perfect lips... Her face in this en-profile position is mesmerizing. It's not the first time that the thought comes to Robin's mind that Nancy looks like someone who should be in old paintings.

“Do you think you'll ever try to find someone who listens to you?” Nancy asks.

Robin tries to imagine that scenario; it's difficult. Not just because she doesn't really know how that would work in the first place, but mostly because she doesn't actually want to.

“Nah,” she says, trying to make it sound casual instead of really fucking sad.

“Why not?”

Because nobody can ever compare to you anyway, she thinks. But she bites her tongue and shrugs, turning her head back to the ceiling.

“That would be way too complicated, wouldn't it?”

Nancy shuffles and sighs; Robin feels her breath tickle against her cheek.

“I guess,” she mumbles.

“How did you do it?” Robin asks.

Nancy's dating history is not as tumultuous as Robin's. After things ended between her and Jonathan, she had been solo for a while. Then, there had been Ben, and then Kurt, and then it had again been just Nancy for a long time.

“Did what?”

“Did you ever find a way to tell Kurt about all the shit?”

“Nope.” It doesn't exactly sound like she tried very hard.

“Why not?”

“Because I did the same thing you did,” Nancy says. “Chose the wrong people to do that with. So I didn't have to think about it.”

That doesn't feel completely fair to Robin; Nancy had been with her boyfriends longer than Robin had been able to keep even one of her girlfriends around.

“I liked Kurt, he was nice,” she remarks in an attempt to point out the difference without being too blunt about it.

Nancy sighs. “Yeah, he was nice, but he wasn't... Right. I knew that from the beginning. Same with Ben. Even with Jonathan, in a way. Or Steve, even though I was too young to realize it.”

“What do you mean, not right?”

“Boys.”

“Wha-” Robin turns her head sideways so fast that she's lucky she doesn't pull a muscle.

She sees how Nancy's eyes drop from the ceiling and slowly find their way to Robin's face.

“Took me a while to figure that one out,” she says quietly. “But yeah.”

Robin wishes they were lying in a different position; one that would have made it possible for her to take Nancy's hand and squeeze it gently, or to wrap an arm around her, or to pull her in for a hug.

“Thank you for telling me.”

A soft smile is tugging at Nancy's lips. She looks at Robin like she wants to say something, then looks back up to the ceiling again, and Robin copies her movement, biting her own tongue again in order to give Nancy the time and space she clearly needs right now.

Usually, Robin struggles with silences; she'll feel words pile up inside of her until her need to fill the empty space will take over and she'll inevitably start rambling. But this one actually feels comfortable. She wishes that they could keep lying side-by-side on this couch for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, they can't, though. There's still way too much work to be done. So Nancy hauls her to her feet and soon, the couch gets company of a coffee table, a couple of cozy armchairs, a bookcase, a TV... There are boxes filled with books, kitchen appliances, picture frames, video tapes, clothes; there are closets that need to get assembled and a heavy bedframe that they can barely get to where they need it.

It feels like it will never end, but after two long days of hauling furniture around, the apartment starts to look like a home. A home for which Robin gets a spare key. It rests cold and shiny against the palm of her hand, where Nancy has dropped it, and it makes her realize how real it is that Nancy is finally living close to her again.

Nancy's couch becomes just as much of a home for Robin as her own living room. It's where the two of them share stories, tell secrets, laugh loudly, cry ugly... It's where they watch movies until deep in the night, snuggled up to each other under a soft blanket. It's where they read books side-by-side on lazy Sunday afternoons. It's where they listen to music together and where they listen to what the other has to tell about their day or about anything that's on their minds. It's where Robin finally gets the courage to tell Nancy that nobody has ever listened to her the way Nancy does. It's where Nancy scoots closer towards her to press a kiss against her cheek, right before she finds Robin's lips and they share their first kiss, warm and homely and perfect.

More often than not, it doesn't work out. But once in a lifetime, it does. And once is exactly enough.

[jewish-vents]

I have changed and I can tell it's not for the better. My Africana Studies professor says Jewish people aren't indigenous to Israel and looks me in the eyes, waiting for me to say something? I will look right back and make unbroken eye contact silently until he looks away. The head of the linguistics program mentions 'colonizer languages' and looks at me? I will reply that English is not the indigenous language of this language, Blackfoot is, and meet her eyes the entire time. My math professor glowers at me when I wear a Magen David? I will look right back at her with the same blank, emotionless expression I wear when dealing with the rest of these people. I keep looking and they break before I do. They always look away. They never know what to do with someone who isn't intimidated by them.

When I was 5, a 12 year old whose parents were Neo Nazis tried to drown me. I locked my limbs around him and hauled him down with me. I understood instinctively then, without words, what I know now: I am not weaker than someone just because they're older than me. I am strong. If you want to take me down, I'll bring you down with me. I've been taking jiujitsu for three years and I own a gun with a concealed carry permit. And yet I don't need that to beat any of these people, I just need eye contact and cold recitation of the facts. I can outlast any of them. I have survived a murder attempt. I have survived nearly dying of internal bleeding. I have hauled myself down three flights of stairs with only 43% of the blood left in my body because my dorm didn't have a working elevator and my RA couldn't be bothered to call an ambulance for me.

I am not afraid of academics who think they can call me out in class. I know what it feels like to drown and have my lungs feel like they're on fire and still be able to fight back. I am not afraid of encampment babies who get much more well-behaved every time I pull out my phone to film them and who can only do things in groups. If they want to kill me, they're going to have to do better than everyone else who tried, and if their murder attempts are half as inept as their 'activism', I'm safe.

I can feel myself becoming the kind of man I always swore I'd never be, cold and distant and unloving. And I know it can't mean anything good for my mental health long-term. I also know that if I don't approach things from the point of view that I have survived worse and I can beat everyone here in a game of survival if I have to, this will turn into anxiety, and that anxiety would be overwhelming.

This is forcing me to become my father. This is turning me into the same kind of person that growing up in deeply antisemitic times in Serbia turned him into. "You're either American/Serbian or you're Jewish", "your [Israeli] government", "your country [Israel]", we're on trial for a place we've never been to and we're foreigners in our own homelands. No wonder he became so icy and hard to get a rise out of. He had to. It was that or become too anxious to function.

I don't like what this is doing to me. I like what I'm realizing about my dad's life by proxy even less. Is it the mentality I find myself in I don't like, or is it the bitter irony that after a lifetime of wishing I understood him, now I do, and it's awful?

.

[gffa]

I've been watching a lot of this cleaning channel because it's great for motivation to go clean stuff, where it's not about ~*transforming*~ the space (which can be very fun to watch, too) but just about taking a hoarder's space and actually Going Through The Stuff And Cleaning Up. The channel is very soothing because the host is someone who actually has read up on what causes hoarding, he knows that you can't just take a shovel to that stuff (you will making the hoarding worse if you clean without the consent of the hoarder, but also there's always genuinely valuable stuff in there, you can't just shovel it out the door, you have to go through it), like Oh I Feel So Seen. But this video in particular hit really hard today because it's from a "clean" hoarder and ohhhh that's it, that's what I've been dealing with. It was never that there was a bug or rodent infestation, if ever there was so much as a single ant in the house, everything was pulled out to scrub things down and get every last one taken care of, the only real dirt was dust in the places nobody could reach. It was just. Stuff everywhere. In the video, there was a moment in the kitchen when he pulled out a little bin of old cell phones and I felt a moment of Kinship and, about two hours later, when I was back to cleaning out dad's hoard, you know what I found? Old cellphones. It just smacked me in the face all over again. It's also the commentary about how, in every hoarder house he goes to, he finds things like old medication or pill bottle (oh my god I have been able to finally throw away what must be over 50 of them, and so much old medication has also been thrown), paperwork mixed in with junk mail (I'm not kidding, if you piled up all the paperwork/junk mail mom and I had to go through, it would have been about five feet high), or hoarded food (literal hundreds of plastic grocery bags full of expired food I hauled out) and it just hits over and over again how much I'm resonating with everything there. Anyway, if you want to know what I'm working with, basically it's a lot like that video above, it's "clean" hoarding, but that's basically what it was like in every single room and I've been trying to go over and tackle at least some of it every day, while also helping to get the old carpet replaced, the walls painted, etc. And trying to choose furniture that's not too expensive but also doesn't look like a teenager's bedroom or like it was salvaged out of a Cleanup Week pile. And trying to figure out where to store the necessary house things, like a basic tool set and cleaning supplies. But, you guys, be proud of us, I got several baskets worth of small stuff storage put away (extra lotions, extra charging cords, etc., things you keep but don't need sitting out), we got the armchair back into the guest bedroom, I put together a hamper instead of just plopping a clothes basket on the closet floor for dirty clothes, I put all my bathroom decor together in a bin for when we get the new vanity (the current one is so old that it's basically rusted over underneath), put all the after Christmas decorations we bought this year away, put some groceries away, AND I STARTED MY SECOND LOAD OF LAUNDRY TODAY. It's small stuff but it's time-consuming and I need you all to be proud of me for keeping moving on All Of This.

[im-ovulating]

⚠️IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT⚠️

Hey, guys... so I've been writing on here for the last 2 years (almost 3) and while I have loved every second of it I can't do it anymore.

I can't....

...keep Pirate! Bakugo to myself any longer...

Imagine you're running, through shabby alleys and past the cess pools your town calls taverns, weaving through the crowded pathways; a couple of men are chasing you, their angry shouts getting mixed with the hustle of the busy streets. You turn your head to risk a glance at your pursuers- shit, they're closer than you thought.

Just as you turn your head back and go to put once last push into your gait, you slam into something big and solid. The sudden arm in your way clotheslines you and sends you scrambling for anything to keep you upright. Not that you need to- the same arm that sent you reeling now has the front of your shirt, hauling you upright.

"Oi!-" The arm's owner barks out, just to be interrupted by the men chasing you.

"Thank you! This little bitch stole our coin," the shorter of the pair turns his yellowed snarl to your form, still held in the strangers steel-like grip.

"I stole nothing!" You growl back, desperately trying to free yourself. Your nails dig into your captor's wrist, but he remains unfazed.

You finally see his face when he turns to you. His eyes bore into your own as he stares you down. "D'ja take their shit?"

His messy blonde hair casts a scary loom over the top half of his face, almost making his blood reds glow. "I didn't steal anything..." you grunt out, trying to yank yourself free.

"So, you're a thief AND a lia-" The taller accuser snarks.

"Enough," the man holding you says, deadly calm. "She said she didn't steal it, so go."

The men raise their voices, yelling their injustices. The second man makes a swipe at you, trying to tug you away from your newfound savior. In a flash, the man yanks you behind him and clocks him in the jaw, felling him.

The other evidently decides that there are more important things to squabble over because he leaves his companion in the dust, clutching his face.

"Leave." The blonde growls, towering over the guy's pathetic form.

Neither of you moves as he scrambles away, stumbling over himself as he rounds a corner.

Your eyes widen. "Wha-"

Once gone, he turns to look at you. "Where is it?"

"-Don't play games with me. Where is it?"

You huff as you reach into your bra and pull out to coin purse. "How'd you know?"

"Only the guilty run. Now hand it over."

Eyeing his outstretched hand, you contemplate how far you could get if you ran. When he cocks his eyebrow, you relent, handing the bag over. You've done enough running today to last you a lifetime.

"What are you? An undercover constable?"

His face twists into an ugly snarl, "Opposite end o' the spectrum, doll." You watch as he counts out the gold, pocketing a few coins and tossing the bag back to you.

"Don't look at me like that- Pirates don't work for free."

-

Now imagine that each time he comes to port, you end up running into each other. Sometimes figuratively, other times literally (you're very prone to be chased through the streets - it's definitely NEVER your fault, though...).

You've seen him beat people up for looking at him the wrong way, so the confusion never fades about why he decided to help you all those months ago. You've asked, of course, but all you get is a noncommittal grunt or a large palm pushing you away by the face as he trudges past you.

Eventually, the "coincidental" visits turn into gifts- nothing huge, just little trinkets that "I've no use for the damned thing, thought cha might, though..."

Dont ask. I've had this in my drafts for almost 3 years, so I figured I'd just post it, lmao. If there's any grammar mistakes/spelling errors, blame 17 year old me, I didn't proofread this - I just added that first bit🙃

[septixtrash]

Inside Man

Being Homelander's assistant ain't easy. Especially when you got a secret or two...

Warnings: language, mentions of threats

A/N: found this in my drafts! Thought I'd finally post it lol, it's nothing crazy long but I hope you enjoy! :)

You can feel hidden eyes following your every move, someone hiding just out of sight. The shadows seem to swallow you whole, almost becoming it's own being. You quicken your pace, hurrying to your car.

You knew it was him the second you heard heavy footsteps behind you. “Y/N?”

He can't know, can he?

“Y/N!” This time he says it louder, demand seeping into each word.

He flashes you that fucking perfect smile, the one plastered on every TV station and every billboard… Fuck that smile.

The red of his laser eyes light up the parking garage. “Come here.”

He takes a step forward, finally showing his face and holy fuck…

“H-Homelander, I-”

He looks you up and down, snickering. “Don't. You're cuter when you keep your mouth shut.”

He shakes his head at you, “I thought better of you, I mean c'mon! You, of all people should know better…”

He drops something near your feet and it rolls towards you. It's the coffee you'd brought him earlier, some of it landing on your sneaker. You read the label, realizing your mistake.

“I 'asked' for three pumps of milk…”

You peer up at him from your lashes, shoulders slumped forward. “I swear it wasn't my fault, the barista must've misread the order. I told them the order four times.”

He huffs, “Next time, you better make sure they don't fuck it up. You're the 3rd assistant I've had this year…”

“I-I promise there won't be another mistake. I swear!” You finally look at him, face to face.

“Good, good. Because I'd hate to tell Ashley I'd need another assistant. You take care.”

With a wink and wave, he's gone, flying to God knows where. You take a deep breath and unlock your car. Getting in, you haul ass out of the parking lot and grab your phone from your pocket. With shaky fingers you dial the number that's engraved in your brain.

“B-Butcher?”

“Bout' fuckin time you called. You alright love?”

“I think he's onto me. I messed up his coffee order this morning. You all any closer to finding him? I don't know how much longer I can distract him…”

“Yeah, we know where he’s being held, just gotta find him.”

You nod to yourself. “Please, call me as soon as you do…”

“Without a doubt. I'll talk to ya later, okay? Hang in there…” Butcher hangs up.

You hope they hurry the hell up, your ass is on the line and it's only a matter of time till you slip up.

[toaarcan]

Every now and then I see the Capitalism Ruined Tieflings post float past and my brain just goes "Skill Issue."

For context, this is a popular post that states that in D&D's second and third editions, Tieflings had a huge variety of appearances and then in 4e they were homogenised into generic devil-people because Hasbro was calling the shots and demanded that Tieflings all look relatively the same because that way it was easier to sell minis of them, and now Tieflings are ruined forever because you can't make one with greasy skin that smells like farts.

But here's the thing: You can absolutely still just do that.

"But the book says-"

Fuck the book! This hobby is 50% improv and the highest authority you'll ever have to deal with is most likely going to be your friend Jim, when it comes to pure roleplay things, there is literally nothing stopping you. The D&D Police aren't going to kick down your door and haul you off to RPG Jail for the crime of not playing a Tiefling like they're described in the PHB, because there is no D&D Police.

The PHB is great for telling you what you get mechanically (or the "crunch") and can be entirely ignored for everything in terms of lore (or the "fluff").

I've been playing 5e for something like seven or eight years now, and during that time, across all those groups, we've used vanishingly small amounts of official lore, one official setting, and precisely zero Hasbro miniatures (largely because all of those games have been online).

If I had gone to any of those DMs, both the good and bad ones, and said "I wanna use the Planescape Tiefling tables for my character's appearance", I don't think any of them would've said no. Now, that's not something I personally would ever do (I'm not leaving my character's design up to the RNG that hates me), but I don't doubt that the option would exist if I wanted it.

Additionally, people have always broken from the official limitations of the books with these things, and a few really obvious ways.

Per the books, Tieflings have the full range of human skin tones, plus varying shades of red. Now, how many people actually keep to that limitation? I've seen blue, purple, orange, green, yellow, bone white, grey, black, pink, etcetera. Even the Planescape table only gives you red, green, and blue, random 5e players going "What if it was purple!" and disregarding the PHB is fully and openly accepted.

Hell, two of the most prominent Tiefling characters in the current era of D&D are Jester and Molly from CritRole's second campaign, who are blue and purple respectively. "Tieflings are just red" says Hasbro, and "No they aren't" says literally everybody else. Even Hasbro themselves don't care too much about it, there's an official Lego D&D Tiefling minifigure coming out this year, and they're orange, not red, when Hasbro could easily have demanded that Lego make them red.

Additionally, the book says Tiefling eyes are a single, solid colour, with no visible iris, pupil, or sclera. Yeah that one gets ignored a whole lot too. In fact, that one gets ignored more than it gets followed. I've made at least ten of these fuckers and one of them followed that rule, and only did so after her Sorcerer bloodline activated, and nobody, DM or player, has ever called me out on it.

The book says nothing about them having weird legs, I've still seen plenty with varying forms of digitigrade gait, whether it's with hooves or something else at the end of them.

If you want to make your Planescape Tieflings, then you absolutely still can. And if your DM says no, then they're probably just still in their Rules Stickler phase. Give 'em a little time and they'll loosen up, it happened to most people in this hobby.

That's the great thing about playing D&D. Most of the time, you really can just do whatever the hell you like as long as it doesn't futz with the mechanical side of things (and sometimes you can do it with that too).

Capitalism didn't ruin Tieflings. Sure, you can argue that it tried, but the only thing letting it succeed is a lack of imagination and an unwillingness to go "Hey, can I just do X instead" on the part of the players.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go make a character that's mechanically a Tiefling and lore-wise a completely different species, because nothing can stop me doing that.

[gabessquishytum]

Hey, I think my ask got eaten by tumblr so I'm gonna resend it. If you had it deleted on purpose, just ignore this.

With everyone going wild about the centaurs, I wanna offer you a thought :

Nomad centaur Hob passing through night-mare Dream's territory every two years on his journey (it's a kind of round trip). At first Dream is sceptical, but then he warms up with each visit, and eventually they start fucking.

It's so good, Hob taking Dream under the stars until he is drooling and his eyes are rolling back in his skull. He loves how warm Hob is, how big and protective, loves listening to the stories from his travels, admires his scars, loves sleeping against Hob when he is there.

But this time, a few months after he's gone, Dream notices that Hob has left him something—he's pregnant, oops!

Hob is too far away by this point for Dream to catch up to him (and even more so taking his new condition into consideration) and so he decides to tough it out and just show Hob his beautiful baby when he gets there next time.

Caveat: Hob is a big draft Horse type of centaur and Dream is... very much not. He gets huge, and he's fairly certain the kid is enormous.

So it's no surprise that when the time comes, Dream struggles a bit, and that it takes a bit longer than it should. What is a surprise is that the baby gets stuck. So Dream's in a bit of a conundrum, mid labour and constantly getting up and down and rolling to get the foal unstuck and into position.

Then he notices something, someone, approaching and has a bit of a fright, because this is REALLY not the time, but it turns out it's just Hob. He's turned around and come back to ask Dream to come with him because obviously they belong together.

Of course Hob helps when he walks in on Dream struggling to get his baby out, even if it is quite a surprise. He gently shoves his big hand into Dream, adjusts the foals position and even helps pulling it out with every contraction.

It all goes well, and Hob adjust marvelously quick to his sudden fatherhood.

They do eventually journey together, a couple of weeks later. Just not the two, as Hob thought, but the three of them :D

OOO yes!!! I've loved the little sojourn into centaur au we've been having lately!! It's fab. I'm sorry it took me so long to get to this!

I'm absolutely LOVING this particular take on it. Very Big Hob accidentally knocking up lil dainty Dream is my new favourite image. He's thinking it'll be such a nice surprise for Hob to come back eventually and find a mini little version of himself waiting! How cute!

Eventually Dream lumbers on to the end of his pregnancy. He's cross and heavy and possibly going to kick Hob in the nuts when he comes back but. He got there in the end! The baby is... coming. Slowly. Very very slowly. He's also maybe panicking a bit because he's never done this before and how dare Hob leave him like this?!

Fortunately Hob comes back and fixes everything by more or less hauling the baby out of Dream’s poor suffering body. They dry the new edition to the family off, make sure the little one gets their first feed. The baby is just like a little mini Hob, all cute and chunky!! But they have Dream’s bright blue eyes and messy black hair.

Hob is the happiest new father on the planet, despite the whole thing being a complete surprise. He cuddles up with Dream and the baby, keeping them safe and warm through the night, softly whispering stories when either of them wake up. In the morning he's there to make sure that Dream gets a proper breakfast and he even massages some of the sore spots that have developed during his pregnancy. Dream can't be mad at Hob for being so big anymore, not when he's so dutiful and protective. Plus Dream wouldn't exchange their big, clumsy baby for anything in the world. He's already thinking that maybe adding to the family wouldn't be so bad... in any case, he can't wait to start his journey with Hob and show their little one all the wonders of the world <3

[bunnakit]

what are the top 5 shows that gave you the most brainrot this year (affectionate)?

ask me my top 5 bl anything 🌸

well this is the question of all time (also the last question in my inbox pspspsps ya'll wanna send me more of these soooo bad pspspsp)

this was the show where i knew i was fucked. i would be hooked on bl forever. i'd fallen into the trap and i would never leave. i watched KP as my.. 3rd or 4th bl? it rearranged all the atoms in my body. i had reached enlightenment. it got me to write fic again after 6 months.

i think its better if we all don't know how many times i've rewatched Not Me. it spoke to my rebellious, anti establishment soul. they were everything i wanted to be when i was younger. also got me writing more fic which is still being updated sooo so slowly.

i'm still so obsessed with them. i regularly go and stalk the tag on ao3. i've read every inspector m and oat fic out there. i know it's old news but i'm so fucking obsessed with them. i really need to keep reading transplant, i'm just juggling so much right now. as soon as work slows back down i'm hauling ass to Viangpha Mork.

i am currently deep in these trenches. every moment my brain isn't occupied with work, phayatharn, or alanjeff is spent here. i live here now, i've made myself a lovely little nest. i've written a fic blurb that's been really well received, i've started the first chapter for a proper full length fic. don't ever wake me, this is where i wanna be.

please. please release me from your siren song. please. i can't stop rotating them in my head. i can't stop thinking of little blurbs to write. i wrote that phaya character study the other night (and was blown away by the love you all showed it) and now my brain insists on thinking about writing a tharn character study. they're everything. the absolute perfect dynamic. i just know i will be in mourning when the show is over.

[nancypullen]

Good Day

Yesterday was fun...actually FUN! The mister was making some noise about starting a project that's been on the table for a while. You see, this house was born without windowsills. It's tragic. I've never lived in a home without windowsills. Where the heck are you supposed to put little herb pots or cute holiday knickknacks? Where are cats supposed to sit while they watch birds?

I'm sure the original builders saved money, but it's cramping my style. Mickey has assured me that it's easy enough to cut, paint, and install sills. SO that's what he plans to do. Personally, I think we should start in a room no one sees, like his office. He plans to start in the living room and kitchen...

If the end result is windowsills that I can enjoy, I will be forever grateful.

I think you can buy actual windowsills and just slide/glue them in place, but of course our windows are not standard sized - that would be too easy. To make a long story even longer - this post has nothing to do with our windows. Mickey told me that he was going to drive into Dover (about 40 minutes) to shop at the Lowe's there. He encouraged me to go with him and I made every excuse in the world not to go - I had chores to do at home, I needed to do a big grocery shop, I'd just spend money there that I don't need to spend, etc. Then he said the five words that had me in my shoes and out the door in a flash, "Dover has a Home Goods." He suggested dropping me at Home Goods while he did his lumber shopping. Girls, that was the golden ticket. I've been in many, many Home Goods stores. MANY. If I see one, I usually stop. I have left money in Home Goods in various states and cities without a regret. So when I say that the Home Goods in Dover, Delaware is the best I've ever seen, believe me. If there is a heaven, I'm pretty sure I just got a glimpse of what it's like. I could have spent an entire day and a thousand dollars. Because I am frugal I kept it to $35, but I'm very happy with my haul. I tried to be mindful and not get swept away in the massive and beautiful Halloween section but I did end up with one gorgeous crow and a single, glittery pumpkin in my cart. I mean...who could resist?

That wooden cake pedestal was purchased as well. It will be part of a fall centerpiece for the table - isn't it lovely?

I grabbed a pack of napkins from their endless selection and have already used them to transform a dollar store pumpkin.

Now that she's dry I'll add some burlap ribbon and lace.

September is off to a good start. I mentioned a crow. I can't resist a good crow. The one at Home Goods had been looking for me. He's perfect for a project. You see, a few weeks ago I picked up four chunky candlesticks at an auction for just $2. I knew that I'd want to turn them into something else, so this is what I'm starting with..

I'm going to chalk paint them ivory and distress them so a bit of that dark wood shows through. That dollar store stack of pumpkins will be painted in more muted colors, and maybe I'll add a wide burlap ribbon somewhere. How fun is that?? One simple trip to Home Goods has resulted in several craft projects to keep me happy. That's a win. I did buy a few practical things as well, like these adorable reusable straws. Pink with gold crowns!

I use straws every morning when I drink my protein shake. The grandgirl uses straws when she's here as well. I usually buy boxes of pretty floral straws, but these are just as cute and can be popped into the dishwasher. I love having a list of artsy things on my to-do list, and autumn is my favorite time for that, probably because the stuff is just so much fun to make. My last clay ghost is ready for paint and I'll start him today. I'm giddy over that. He's the one who will be a patchwork quilt. I thought I was being so original, and had even dreamed up a book about him. When I did a quick Google search to make sure nothing similar existed, I realized I'm a couple years too late - but doesn't this story sound delightful? Much better than mine.

"His parents are both sheets...his grandmother was a lace curtain..." I love that so much. All the more reason to enjoy painting my little ghost. Anyway, after my $35 Home Goods spree (I regret not buying the Halloween bedsheets) Mickey suggested we grab lunch. If there's one thing I enjoy almost as much as Home Goods, it's going out for lunch. Nothing fancy, we just popped into Qdoba where you can build a semi-healthy, spicy bowl. And, as if the day wasn't splendid enough, when we finally pointed the car toward home we went through a Starbucks drive-thru for a yummy drink. You guys, I felt like I'd been let out of prison after being wrongfully convicted. Home Goods, lunch, and Starbucks - what a fun day! At the moment I have laundry chugging and another load to go in after that one. I should probably dust, and clean windows...but the odds are very good that I will be painting and crafting today instead. It's a holiday, I'm allowed. Alright, time to start painting candlesticks, so this is where I'll sign off. Sending out loads of love, encouragement, and the hope that this new month brings happiness to our doorsteps. While we're waiting, we might as well create a little of our own.

Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[welcometololaland]

for the asks: 🤍💌

i haven't had an anon in my inbox in a long time, so this feels momentous. thanks for the ask!

what's one fic of yours that you think people didn't "get"?

I can't think of a good example of this, except for Down for the Count - I mean, I don't think I got that fic either lmao. It's about card counting and casinos and poker and it's very insane - I've never written anything so out there before, although I'm tossing up something extremely rogue with @rmd-writes that may actually take the cake.

share something about an up and coming WIP that has you excited.

gonna stay on theme here and go for something about (Un)professional Services - which is the collab I've been working on for 4000 years (it keeps getting pushed to the side by ALTA which is extremely unfortunate because - unlike ALTA - it's a pleasure to write):

Full of undeserved confidence, Carlos reaches out and cups TK’s jaw in his hand. “Feel free to stop me,” he says, his voice slightly cracked and raspy.

“That is the last thing I’ll be doing,” TK replies, and it’s a little unclear who leans in exactly, but all of a sudden TK’s lips are pressed tentatively against his own, and Carlos is drowning in it until something from his subconscious hauls him back out of the depths of his desire.

“Wait,” he says quickly, pulling back. “The wine. Are you sure you’re okay to be kissing me when I’ve been drinking? Because I can brush my teeth if you—”

“Oh my god,” TK moans, a sound which appears to have a direct connection to Carlos’ dick. “Where did you come from? Seriously, did they make you in a lab? You’re perfect.”

“N– No,” Carlos stammers, unsure where TK is going with this. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

“Carlos,” TK says, grabbing the front of Carlos’ tie and twisting it around one hand, hauling him in so their lips are brushing together. “The wine thing is fine. What’s not fine is the fact that we’re no longer kissing.”

“Okay,” Carlos manages to say, before he loses himself in the hot press of TK’s mouth again.

The thing is, Carlos has always known that he’s a romantic. Ever since he left the purgatory that was high school his dreams have been a continual rotation of finding the love of his life; a chance meeting, learning the lines and curves of someone else's body, falling in love, romantic dates and shared dinners and making someone else laugh. Someone he can come home to and surprise with gifts and curl up with at night when it’s cold outside and the rain beats down on the windows of his shitty Brooklyn apartment. 

What he didn’t expect was this. Someone who steals his breath and makes him feel unbalanced. Someone he met under circumstances that are so far from romantic. Someone with a terrifying mother and a kind of unhinged friend-turned-colleague. Someone who has two first names and smells like a lovely combination of citrus and apples and owns a pair of green eyes that Carlos could look at every day for the rest of his life and never tire of.

Someone who kisses him with purpose, whose hands feel electric on his skin. Someone who makes intoxicating little frustrated sounds and coaxes Carlos’ lips open with a gentle tongue and then proceeds to lick into his mouth and take Carlos’ sanity apart bit by bit. Someone who winds up hitched around Carlos’ leg and presses himself into Carlos’ hip and oh god—

TK is definitely hard in his pants and Carlos is not okay.