#unicorn: drowning sun

[phantomrose96]

If anyone wants to know why every tech company in the world right now is clamoring for AI like drowned rats scrabbling to board a ship, I decided to make a post to explain what's happening.

(Disclaimer to start: I'm a software engineer who's been employed full time since 2018. I am not a historian nor an overconfident Youtube essayist, so this post is my working knowledge of what I see around me and the logical bridges between pieces.)

Okay anyway. The explanation starts further back than what's going on now. I'm gonna start with the year 2000. The Dot Com Bubble just spectacularly burst. The model of "we get the users first, we learn how to profit off them later" went out in a no-money-having bang (remember this, it will be relevant later). A lot of money was lost. A lot of people ended up out of a job. A lot of startup companies went under. Investors left with a sour taste in their mouth and, in general, investment in the internet stayed pretty cooled for that decade. This was, in my opinion, very good for the internet as it was an era not suffocating under the grip of mega-corporation oligarchs and was, instead, filled with Club Penguin and I Can Haz Cheezburger websites.

Then around the 2010-2012 years, a few things happened. Interest rates got low, and then lower. Facebook got huge. The iPhone took off. And suddenly there was a huge new potential market of internet users and phone-havers, and the cheap money was available to start backing new tech startup companies trying to hop on this opportunity. Companies like Uber, Netflix, and Amazon either started in this time, or hit their ramp-up in these years by shifting focus to the internet and apps.

Now, every start-up tech company dreaming of being the next big thing has one thing in common: they need to start off by getting themselves massively in debt. Because before you can turn a profit you need to first spend money on employees and spend money on equipment and spend money on data centers and spend money on advertising and spend money on scale and and and

But also, everyone wants to be on the ship for The Next Big Thing that takes off to the moon.

So there is a mutual interest between new tech companies, and venture capitalists who are willing to invest $$$ into said new tech companies. Because if the venture capitalists can identify a prize pig and get in early, that money could come back to them 100-fold or 1,000-fold. In fact it hardly matters if they invest in 10 or 20 total bust projects along the way to find that unicorn.

But also, becoming profitable takes time. And that might mean being in debt for a long long time before that rocket ship takes off to make everyone onboard a gazzilionaire.

But luckily, for tech startup bros and venture capitalists, being in debt in the 2010's was cheap, and it only got cheaper between 2010 and 2020. If people could secure loans for ~3% or 4% annual interest, well then a $100,000 loan only really costs $3,000 of interest a year to keep afloat. And if inflation is higher than that or at least similar, you're still beating the system.

So from 2010 through early 2022, times were good for tech companies. Startups could take off with massive growth, showing massive potential for something, and venture capitalists would throw infinite money at them in the hopes of pegging just one winner who will take off. And supporting the struggling investments or the long-haulers remained pretty cheap to keep funding.

You hear constantly about "Such and such app has 10-bazillion users gained over the last 10 years and has never once been profitable", yet the thing keeps chugging along because the investors backing it aren't stressed about the immediate future, and are still banking on that "eventually" when it learns how to really monetize its users and turn that profit.

The pandemic in 2020 took a magnifying-glass-in-the-sun effect to this, as EVERYTHING was forcibly turned online which pumped a ton of money and workers into tech investment. Simultaneously, money got really REALLY cheap, bottoming out with historic lows for interest rates.

Then the tide changed with the massive inflation that struck late 2021. Because this all-gas no-brakes state of things was also contributing to off-the-rails inflation (along with your standard-fare greedflation and price gouging, given the extremely convenient excuses of pandemic hardships and supply chain issues). The federal reserve whipped out interest rate hikes to try to curb this huge inflation, which is like a fire extinguisher dousing and suffocating your really-cool, actively-on-fire party where everyone else is burning but you're in the pool. And then they did this more, and then more. And the financial climate followed suit. And suddenly money was not cheap anymore, and new loans became expensive, because loans that used to compound at 2% a year are now compounding at 7 or 8% which, in the language of compounding, is a HUGE difference. A $100,000 loan at a 2% interest rate, if not repaid a single cent in 10 years, accrues to $121,899. A $100,000 loan at an 8% interest rate, if not repaid a single cent in 10 years, more than doubles to $215,892.

Now it is scary and risky to throw money at "could eventually be profitable" tech companies. Now investors are watching companies burn through their current funding and, when the companies come back asking for more, investors are tightening their coin purses instead. The bill is coming due. The free money is drying up and companies are under compounding pressure to produce a profit for their waiting investors who are now done waiting.

You get enshittification. You get quality going down and price going up. You get "now that you're a captive audience here, we're forcing ads or we're forcing subscriptions on you." Don't get me wrong, the plan was ALWAYS to monetize the users. It's just that it's come earlier than expected, with way more feet-to-the-fire than these companies were expecting. ESPECIALLY with Wall Street as the other factor in funding (public) companies, where Wall Street exhibits roughly the same temperament as a baby screaming crying upset that it's soiled its own diaper (maybe that's too mean a comparison to babies), and now companies are being put through the wringer for anything LESS than infinite growth that Wall Street demands of them.

Internal to the tech industry, you get MASSIVE wide-spread layoffs. You get an industry that used to be easy to land multiple job offers shriveling up and leaving recent graduates in a desperately awful situation where no company is hiring and the market is flooded with laid-off workers trying to get back on their feet.

Because those coin-purse-clutching investors DO love virtue-signaling efforts from companies that say "See! We're not being frivolous with your money! We only spend on the essentials." And this is true even for MASSIVE, PROFITABLE companies, because those companies' value is based on the Rich Person Feeling Graph (their stock) rather than the literal profit money. A company making a genuine gazillion dollars a year still tears through layoffs and freezes hiring and removes the free batteries from the printer room (totally not speaking from experience, surely) because the investors LOVE when you cut costs and take away employee perks. The "beer on tap, ping pong table in the common area" era of tech is drying up. And we're still unionless.

Never mind that last part.

And then in early 2023, AI (more specifically, Chat-GPT which is OpenAI's Large Language Model creation) tears its way into the tech scene with a meteor's amount of momentum. Here's Microsoft's prize pig, which it invested heavily in and is galivanting around the pig-show with, to the desperate jealousy and rapture of every other tech company and investor wishing it had that pig. And for the first time since the interest rate hikes, investors have dollar signs in their eyes, both venture capital and Wall Street alike. They're willing to restart the hose of money (even with the new risk) because this feels big enough for them to take the risk.

Now all these companies, who were in varying stages of sweating as their bill came due, or wringing their hands as their stock prices tanked, see a single glorious gold-plated rocket up out of here, the likes of which haven't been seen since the free money days. It's their ticket to buy time, and buy investors, and say "see THIS is what will wring money forth, finally, we promise, just let us show you."

To be clear, AI is NOT profitable yet. It's a money-sink. Perhaps a money-black-hole. But everyone in the space is so wowed by it that there is a wide-spread and powerful conviction that it will become profitable and earn its keep. (Let's be real, half of that profit "potential" is the promise of automating away jobs of pesky employees who peskily cost money.) It's a tech-space industrial revolution that will automate away skilled jobs, and getting in on the ground floor is the absolute best thing you can do to get your pie slice's worth.

It's the thing that will win investors back. It's the thing that will get the investment money coming in again (or, get it second-hand if the company can be the PROVIDER of something needed for AI, which other companies with venture-back will pay handsomely for). It's the thing companies are terrified of missing out on, lest it leave them utterly irrelevant in a future where not having AI-integration is like not having a mobile phone app for your company or not having a website.

So I guess to reiterate on my earlier point:

Drowned rats. Swimming to the one ship in sight.

[doremimosasol]

⋆˙⟡ Just thinking about MATTHEO RIDDLE's love language. He'd be such a lover boy when he finally has you, always reminding you of the love his heart bears.

Doves, cats, bunnies... Mattheo would succeed in enchanting parchment into every shape or form, letting them delicately land on your desk. The paper would gently graze the tips of your fingers as if urging them to absorb the words he wrote.

"Darling, the sun should be jealous of your radiant smile." — "That ribbon in your hair reminds me of the string that binds me to you." — "To love a heart as beautiful as yours has been the biggest gift in my life."

Mattheo would often take walks on the school grounds to drown out his sorrows, preferably alone but not without keeping you in the back of his mind. You’d often receive flowers — “Almost as beautiful as you.” —, stones shaped like a heart, unicorn hair… Every single walk, he’d search for something to gift you.

To him, defense against the dark arts classes were rubbish. — “They don’t teach you to properly defend yourself, so let me, please.” — He’d teach you to use dark magic while also letting you learn its weaknesses. It’d bring you two into the late hours of the night, hidden in the room of requirement. Always making sure to keep lingering touches on your hips, wrist, and shoulders. — “Just so you know the proper form.” bullshit

Having your own dorm room? No, you didn’t, he’d plead with you to stay in his all the time. He’d use excuses like ‘just protecting you’ or ‘keeping your nightmares away’. Silly guy. He just couldn’t handle not holding you through the night.

He’d often give you massages, driving away the tension in your shoulders. His lips would often follow the motion of his hands until no spot would be left unkissed.

Intimate times had two sides. Either he’d be pretty rough — not without telling you how beautiful you look — other times he’d be so soft. But not once he’d forget to take proper care of you after. Showering together sometimes for another round and kissing the skin painted by his love, or just taking a relaxing bath with your back resting against his chest.

He'd spend months to find a way to sneak out of Hogwarts for a weekend trip to London. Taking romantic strolls through the city, ending the day with his coat wrapped around you and a hot chocolate in your hands to keep you warm enough.

His biggest love language would be words of encouragement and soft touches. Often combined.

“How’d my love sleep?” — “Has my pretty girl eaten breakfast today?” — “My smart girlfriend, always working so hard.” — “I’m proud of you.” —

— “I love you.”

[kalesaladd]

what if the ghouls had a beach day?

step number one: sunscreen!

most of the ghouls tan very nicely, although phantom burns super fast. dew? dew looks like a lobster when he’s been outside all day.

as a result, aether insists on slathering all of them in a sunscreen balm that he and mounty have perfected! dew fusses the entire time and just wants to GO ALREADY so he can play in the lake with rain! everyone else is very cooperative :)

phantom (victim number two) falls asleep on a beach chair just from the gentle rubbing and touching. mounty and aeth join him in their “dad passed out snoring on the beach” activities.

step number two: water activities!

not even five minutes after they get there, cirrus is yelling at dew for trying to drown swiss… and then at swiss for trying to drown them both. she’s standing at the edge of the water screaming “DEWDROP YOU TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF HIS HEAD THIS INSTANT OR SO HELP ME SATAN”.

mounty and aether also help dew and phantom play chicken in the shallows. rain is doing laps very gracefully or floating perfectly still on his back… while swiss tries and fails to do the butterfly.

rory is chilling on a unicorn floatie in the lake with sunglasses and a drink, sunbathing like the princess she is! once lus is done corralling the boys for sunscreen time, she joins aurora in getting tipsy off wine while floating on the water.

dew & swiss always try to flip the girls over… which often leads to them getting kicked in the face. bug is hanging on to the edge of one of the girl’s floats just loving life!

step number three: sandcastles!

once phantom wakes up, he wants to make sand castles! but sunny wants to play monster and stomp on bug’s sandcastles! at first, aurora is helping bug make castles… but then she starts helping sunny stomp on them.

phantom still has white zinc on his face bc lus keeps making him come back from his sandcastles to slather it on his face (mom activities). she’s saying something something about how he has enough freckles already and she knows dew is gonna get burnt and she doesn’t want to deal with two burnt ghouls.

dew is gonna need someone to untangle his hair later… he didn’t braid it and he has a sensitive scalp. it’s going to be a process.

but wait… what about bathing suits?!

lus is wearing a full get up: one of those old timey one pieces, with her beautiful flowy hair, pretty sandals, a nice floppy hat that matches her suit, and a flowy coverup!

cirrus is wearing a matching bikini in the same pattern as lus’s one piece. her hair is in beautiful french braids so it doesn’t get tangled :)

aeth has got the quintessential (haha get it) dad outfit on: khaki shorts that are too long, an unbuttoned hawaiian shirt, dad sunglasses with the strap that holds them on your head, beat up birkenstock sandals, and white zinc on his nose.

mounty is sat under an umbrella wearing a regular pair of swim trunks, but he’s got a sun hat on, sunglasses, a long sleeve sun-shirt, and lots of SPF 100 sunscreen. he is very fair skinned and freckled as well… and he knows he can’t afford to sit and tan like some of the others.

aurora is wearing a frilly multicolored bikini, fun sunglasses, adorable matching sandals, and her hair is beautifully braided!

dew is wearing long ass board shorts (black… duh) and sunglasses. he’s simple. his hair is NOT braided or tied back…

bug’s swim shorts are purple with little bats on them (a gift from rory). he’s also wearing a bucket hat and those silly arms floaties (cirrus made him wear them bc she’s worried about him drowning).

rainy is so fabulous… he’s wearing 5” inseam shorts in some pastel color that fit perfectly. he looks like a men’s swimwear model.

swiss is wearing a speedo…

thanks to my friends for helping create this silly post :) @passifaggot @nyxiamoon @hanalyrata

[azzifudd10]

Chapter 9: Bubble Trouble and Bedroom Promises

A/N: sorry guys I was super locked in for classes but im back full time!!

Mature content!!! minors dni

Saturday mornings hit different now.

Sunlight spilled across the hardwood floors of Azzi’s living room, painting everything in soft gold. Jazlyn was on the rug in the middle of it all, surrounded by colored pencils, glittery stickers, and a stack of construction paper. She had her unicorn slippers on the wrong feet and a determined look on her face.

“Zizi,” she called without looking up, “I need the sparkles.”

Azzi leaned over the kitchen island, sipping her coffee with a lazy grin. “The sparkles are in the drawer next to the spoons, boss.”

Jazlyn jumped up and scrambled to the kitchen like she was chasing Olympic gold. Paige appeared a moment later, fresh out of the shower, damp curls pulled into a loose bun and Azzi’s hoodie drowning her frame.

She blinked at the glitter bomb that was now her kitchen. “We’re starting early today, huh?”

“She’s making a family crest,” Azzi said, amused.

“A what?”

Jazlyn returned with a fistful of glue sticks and glitter, hopping in place. “It’s for us, Mom. Our team flag. I already drew pancakes and a unicorn and a band-aid for Zizi’s nose. But I’m still thinking about yours.”

Paige crouched beside her, touched. “You’re putting me on the flag?”

Jazlyn gave her a look like duh. “You’re the mom.”

Azzi’s heart did a little somersault.

Paige smiled so soft it nearly broke Azzi in half. “Well then, you better make mine cool.”

“I will,” Jazzy said seriously. “But no glitter on your part. You don’t like it in your shoes.”

Azzi started laughing so hard she nearly dropped her coffee. Paige looked betrayed. “How does she know that?”

“She’s been studying you,” Azzi teased. “This is elite-level intel.”

They spent the morning sprawled on the floor, Jazlyn assigning "flag jobs" to each of them. Paige handled the scissors, Azzi the design layout, and Jaz supervised. At one point, Azzi tried to sneak in a little sparkle near Paige’s corner, just to be funny — and got beaned with a glue stick for her efforts.

“Traitor,” Paige whispered, wiping glitter off her leg.

“You love me,” Azzi whispered back.

“I do,” Paige admitted.

They had pancakes again for lunch — mostly because no one wanted to do actual groceries. Jazlyn dipped hers in strawberry yogurt and declared herself “the food boss.” Afterward, they all ended up on the back porch, sun-drenched and sleepy, blowing bubbles off the edge of the steps.

Azzi sat with her legs stretched out, bandages finally off, bruises faint and fading. Paige leaned against her, shoulder to shoulder, her hand resting on Azzi’s thigh. Jazlyn danced around the lawn, chasing floating orbs like they were treasure.

“Bet you can’t catch the biggest one!” Paige challenged.

“Watch me, Mom!” Jazlyn yelled, tearing across the grass.

Azzi smiled at the way Paige’s face lit up every time Jazlyn called her that. Like the word itself filled something that had been empty for too long.

They stayed like that until the sun dipped low again, golden and sleepy. Jazlyn ended up curled on the couch with Azzi while Paige made dinner — grilled cheese and tomato soup, Jaz’s request.

“Extra crispy, not burny,” Jazlyn had clarified. “Zizi’s rules.”

Later, they all piled into Azzi’s bed to watch a movie — though Jazlyn passed out halfway through, curled up with her head on Azzi’s stomach and her foot in Paige’s armpit.

“She always does that,” Paige whispered, carefully adjusting the tiny unicorn blanket over her.

“She’s weird,” Azzi whispered back.

“She’s perfect,” Paige corrected, brushing hair from her daughter’s forehead.

Azzi nodded. “Like her mom.”

Paige kissed her then — a slow, lingering kiss that had nothing to do with gratitude or comfort and everything to do with want. Azzi made a soft sound and kissed her back, shifting just enough to keep from waking the sleeping child between them.

They didn’t talk after that. Just moved.

Carefully sliding Jazlyn to the middle of the bed. Tucking the blanket up to her chin. Exchanging quiet looks.

Then slipping into the next room.

The door had barely clicked shut before Paige had Azzi pressed up against it, breath shallow, fingers slipping under the hem of her oversized sleep shirt like they’d been waiting all night.

Azzi gasped — softly — her hands flying to Paige’s shoulders as their mouths crashed together, all tongue and hunger and too much time holding back.

“You sure?” Paige asked against her lips, voice husky.

Azzi kissed her harder in response, dragging her fingers into the curls at the back of Paige’s neck. “Do I look unsure?”

“You look like trouble,” Paige murmured, lifting Azzi off her feet, carrying her to the bed like she weighed nothing.

Azzi let herself fall back into the sheets, hair fanned out, legs parting with an invitation Paige didn’t need twice. She hovered above her for a moment, just looking — at the slope of her neck, the fading bruises on her cheek, the gleam in her eyes that dared her to be gentle and wild all at once.

“I’ve thought about this,” Paige said quietly, letting her fingers trail slowly down Azzi’s side, over the curve of her hip.

“How many times?” Azzi teased, her voice catching.

Paige smirked, kissing her way down Azzi’s collarbone. “Too many to count.”

She kissed every scar. Every mark. Every inch that had been hurt, claimed, or feared — until Azzi was arching under her, trembling from the slow reverence of it all.

Her hands explored with purpose — sliding under soft fabric, brushing against sensitive skin, learning what made Azzi gasp and what made her groan.

Azzi tugged at Paige’s hoodie, desperate now, breath hot in her throat. “Off. Now.”

Paige obeyed, stripping off the hoodie, the tank beneath it, and the rest with a kind of command that sent heat rushing through both of them.

Azzi’s fingers traced the lines of Paige’s ribs, her back, her thighs — pulling her closer, needing her skin on skin, no space left between them. Paige kissed her again, slower this time, hips sliding forward with a rhythm that made Azzi clutch at the sheets.

“I want to ruin you a little,” Paige whispered in her ear, voice rough.

Azzi’s breath hitched. “Then do it right.”

And she did.

She moved with deliberate pressure — lips dragging across Azzi’s chest, hands anchoring her thighs apart, touch featherlight then deep, slow then sudden. Azzi’s cries turned into sighs, her back bowing off the mattress, her fingers threading into Paige’s hair like they were holding on for dear life.

Paige’s mouth worked lower, torturously slow, worshipping the tremble in Azzi’s legs, the way her breath stuttered when her name was whispered — not as a question, but a plea.

“Paige…”

“I got you,” she murmured against skin so warm it burned. “Let me.”

Azzi shattered under her.

Once.

Then again.

And when Paige finally climbed back up and hovered over her, Azzi pulled her close, kissed her like something sacred, and whispered, “Your turn.”

Azzi flipped her gently, straddling her hips, hands trailing down Paige’s chest with a confidence that was nothing short of sinful. Her touch was slower, but no less intense — fingers grazing, lips marking, hips moving in teasing rolls that made Paige groan aloud, head thrown back into the pillows.

Azzi kissed every inch she could reach, pressed her mouth to the hollow of Paige’s throat, down her sternum, across her stomach.

“Tell me what you want,” she said against her skin.

“You,” Paige gasped. “Just you.”

Azzi gave her exactly that — and nothing less.

She built Paige up with a maddening slowness, tracing paths across her skin with her tongue, letting her fingers slide just where Paige wanted them most, but never too fast, never too easy. She wanted her to feel every second of it. To burn.

And Paige did.

When she came, it was with a strangled cry and Azzi’s name on her lips, eyes squeezed shut, hips rocking into her hand like nothing else mattered.

They lay together after, tangled in each other — flushed, breathless, aching in the best possible way.

Paige pressed a kiss to Azzi’s shoulder, body still humming. “Still terrified,” she whispered.

Azzi pulled her closer, one arm looped around her waist like she was claiming her all over again. “Still not going anywhere.”

From the other room came a tiny voice: “Mom… Zizi… are pancakes for breakfast or dinner again?”

They both blinked. Then cracked up, still breathless.

Paige dropped her head into Azzi’s neck. “We’ve created a monster.”

Azzi grinned, pressing a final kiss to her temple. “Our monster.”

[pinkprince55]

Complicated (Rafe x OC)

summary : Eden Lowell, a pogue who’s best friends with Sarah Cameron, had always despised Rafe Cameron , until a string of events leads to her helping him with his messed up past, and the mistakes that came of it.

warnings: mention of ❄️, 💊, swearing

Part 2 : The Deal

“Morning, Sarah. Hey Wheezie.” She yawns and grabs a mug, then turns on the keurig. “I just remembered that JJ and I are going to the beach, Sarah do you want to come?” Eden asks, stirring sugar and milk into her cup. Sarah has always theorized that JJ has a bit of a thing for Eden, which he would never admit for fear of ruining things, but she thinks they’d be cute together.

“No it’s ok, you two go ahead. I might take this one to the movies.” She ruffles Wheezies hair. “Hey! Can we see the new Avengers movie?” Wheezie asks Sarah, excitedly. “Y’know what? Sure!” Sarah smiles. “As long as you do the dishes plus the laundry?” She bargains. Wheezie rolls her eyes, “Ugh, fine. Deal.” Eden sips her coffee, and checks her phone. “Ok well, I’ll probably head home after the beach. But I’ll text you later.” Eden gives Sarah a small hug and then goes to get her stuff. “See ya, Wheez! Enjoy your movie!” She gives her a pat on the shoulder and heads upstairs.

Eden gathers her stuff she brought over to Sarah’s and then heads out to JJ’s house

“Hey, Edy. What’s up?” JJ says, walking over to give her a hug. “JJ, I told you not to call me that.” Eden says, smiling a bit. JJ smirks at that. “What can I say, I love messing with ya.” Eden rolls her eyes, and sets down her bag, grabbing some sunscreen and sunglasses. “Yeah, I know. It’s your favorite thing, evidently.” JJ laughs, taking some sunscreen too. “So, anyway, John B is letting me borrow the Twinkie, so that we can get to the beach. I promised him I would take care of that van with my life.” Eden takes back the sunscreen and throws her bag over her shoulder. “Ok, so no blasting music and going like 80 miles per hour?” She says jokingly. JJ sighs, “What a shame.”

“So, how was your kook party last night? You gon’ start going to the country club and wear floral dresses now too?” He jokes, poking her shoulder. “Ugh, No. It was mostly to appease Sarah if anything. It was uh… interesting.” She thinks back to how Barry grabbed her, swearing, and then Rafe knocking him to the floor. Still a bit anxious about it all. “I wouldn’t do it again anytime soon, willingly anyways. If Sarah keeps dating Topper though, i’m sure I’ll be at more.” JJ shakes his head. “Those two together are terrible. Toppers a dick. Doesn’t deserve Sarah that’s for sure.” Eden nods.

At the beach

Eden lays on her beach towel, watching as JJ begins to surf the beach's waves. She never fails to notice how he seems to just glide along. He’s a natural surfer, probably the best one she knows, which is saying a lot considering her location. JJ eventually comes out of the water with his board, his wet dirty blonde hair glistening in the sun. “Were you watching me, Eden?.” He asks, a bit embarrassed but also curious to see what she says. “Oh, I mean yeah a bit. You’re a good surfer, why wouldn’t I?” She smiles, a bit embarrassed. “Hey, why do you like, never go in the water? I mean the most you do is dip your toes. You live in the OBX, I mean it’s a bit weird.” JJ asks her. “I’m sort of afraid of the water, like drowning. It’s an irrational thing, I mean I know how to swim and all, it's just a dumb fear I have. Pretty stupid, I know.”

JJ's smile falters. “It’s not dumb, I get it. It’s ok. You don’t have to go in the water if you don’t want to. I was just confused, my bad.” He sits down next to her, drying his wet hair with his own towel. “I have a fear of Narwhals.” He says turning to face her. “Narwhals?” She clarifies, “Like the unicorn looking whale things? Those?” She smirks, trying not to laugh. “Absolutely. Scared. Shitless.” Eden breaks out into laughter, clutching her stomach. “They’re cute, what do you mean? They look majestic!” JJ laughs, shaking his head. “Those things could impale your ass without a second thought. No fuckin’ way that they’re cute.” Eden calms her laughter down. “Ok. Sorry. It’s just I would think you’d be afraid of sharks or something. It was just a bit random. Sorry I’ll stop laughing.” JJ rolls his eyes. “Mhm, Thanks.” He says sarcastically.

Some time passes, Eden is tanning while JJ listens to music.

“Eden?” A familiar voice says. Eden opens her eyes, seeing Rafe standing over her. “Oh, you’re here too. Hi.” Eden says a bit annoyed that her perfect beach day with her friend is getting interrupted. “I’m here with Kelce, just thought I’d say hello.” Rafe says, admiring Eden’s black bikini. “Can you not stare at me, Rafe.” Eden says, noticing where his eyes are landing. JJ takes his earbuds out after hearing Eden’s annoyed tone, getting angry when he sees Rafe standing over her. “Rafe, go find someone else to bother. She doesn’t want to talk to you.” Rafes jaw clenches at that. “JJ, shut the hell up, I’m not talking to you.”

“Rafe, do you have an actual reason to be over here, other than to be a dick?!” Eden shouts. Eden stands up, wrapping her towel around her waist. “Eden. Wait.” Rafe says. “I need your help. That’s what I came over for.” Eden looks confused. “Why would you need my help? With what?” She asks , annoyed. “Y’know how Barry was upset last night, and he told you I owe him cash. I need to find a way to pay him back. I got a few ideas, but I know your dad is a smuggler. Can he get me some things I can sell?” Eden stares at him, in shock. JJ looks about ready to hit him. Rafe is rubbing his temple, clearly stressed. “Are you serious? Seriously?” Eden says, clarifying exactly what Rafes asking of her. “You want me to help you start some kind of fucked up drug dealing thing? All to pay back Barry?! He’s a criminal! You wanna be like him?! He’s also more of a dick than you are, if that’s possible.” “Eden, please. This is my only idea. It’s fucked either way. I’ll do anything, please.”

Rafe’s begging at this point, to which Eden puts her palm to her face. “She doesn’t want to be part of this Rafe, go away.” JJ groans, pissed. Rafe just glares at JJ.

“Rafe, I don’t know.” Eden pauses, as she sees Rafes panicked expression. She sighs “What do you need, If I get my dad to get you supply.” “coke, oxy probably.” he mumbles. “If I do this, You need to make sure Barry doesn’t get anywhere near me. He’s fucking scary. I need him far away from my part in this mess, alright?” She says, texting her dad. “Don’t think because I'm helping you that It’s because I want to. I'm doing this so it doesn’t affect Sarah’s life. Or mine for that matter. That thing at the party was bad enough.” Rafe smiles. “Thank you.” He says. “Uh-huh.” Eden sighs. JJ groans. “Why do you have to ruin this day, Idiot. The beach was actually calming me before you came along. Fuck.” Rafe looks like he could lunge at JJ for that remark. Eden notices and gets in front of Rafe. “Ok, I said I would help you with this. You have my number. No more brawls with my friends either. Forgot to mention that as part of this deal.” Rafe rolls his eyes. “Even if one of your friends in specific, is a dick?” “Fuck you man.” JJ quips. Rafe just gives him a fake smile. “Alright, enough. God you two are like 8 year olds. I have your number, Rafe. I’ll hear back from my dad. He’ll get the stuff, then you’ll sell it yourself. Leave me out of that part too. Ok?” She’s looking at him with a serious expression and crossed arms. He just looks down at her, admiring her tough attitude. “Whatever you say.” Eden rolls her eyes.

“Just let me be clear. This is a one time thing. I’m not making it a habit to get into your problems, Alright? One. Time.” “Alright, Alright.” Rafe says, smirking. “Thank you, Eden.”

End of part 2

[deanwbigbang]

No Direction Home by amypond45 | art by midnightsilver dean x sam, E, 15k

Dean is overwhelmed with guilt when Jessica dies at the end of the pilot. Sure that it’s his fault, he leaves Sam and runs, eventually finding a witch who agrees to alleviate his suffering by removing his memories. But what Dean doesn’t count on is losing his memories of Sam, and when a handsome young man starts haunting his dreams, Dean’s life changes forever.

fic (lj) | art

Free To Be You, Me, and a Baby by Ophelia_Yvette | art by Morokolli dean & emma, dean & sam, dean & cas, T, 12,7k

Seattle was wet—that was just a fact of life. Seeing the sun was like seeing a unicorn in the sky. It’s why Dean never liked coming here, it was much too rainy for his liking. Rain is fun when you’re a child splashing in puddles but as an adult it’s just one more way your day can be ruined. Dean tried not to think about Sam—where he was, what he was doing. He wasn’t here and now Dean was stuck with Castiel as his partner for this hunt. Dean wondered if he was sitting on a beach down here drinking Mai Tais. Or if he’d taken a page out of Dean’s own book and was drowning his sorrow’s somewhere in a bar? He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts—he needed to focus on the case, not on Sam.

fic | art

A Distant Memory by SamandDean76 | art by QueenSilber dean x sam, E, 10,3k

Dean is an Omega on the streets, just trying to survive. He is picked up and taken back to an opulent condo, where he is told to clean himself up and await his Alpha. The problem being that Dean can barely remember who he is, let alone who his mystery Alpha might be. And he is being plagued by alternating visions. He is either a desperate Omega, half-starved and filthy, or he is dressed for success in a tailored power suit. Every time he catches a glimpse of his reflection, his reality alters. Sam is trying his damnedest to save Dean, his soulmate who defended himself after Zachariah assaulted him. But the punishment rendered has left Dean unable to distinguish his true reality. Together with Castiel, Sam works to save Dean and punish the monster who led to them being cast out of heaven.

fic | art

Virgin Veins by ratzeebatz | art by TwinOne dean x cas, M, 22,9k

After Deans’s failed suicide attempt at an unnamed cliff in Kansas, he’s followed by Castiel- a man who claims to be an angel with a mission. His only job on Earth is to protect Dean Winchester, but all Dean wants is to get drunk and sleep forever. But Castiel is insistent, and a journey to reconnect with Sam and their missing Father makes both Castiel and Dean rethink their purpose and what they were meant to be all along.

fic | art

The Ball’s In Your Court by markofcain | art by MasoenArt (Masoena) dean x cas, E, 12,5k

Inspired by Challengers (2024) movie Dean and Castiel were once best friends turned teenage lovers, competing together in junior tennis championships. But Dean’s struggle to accept his sexuality ultimately drove them apart, leaving Cas to abandon his career altogether. Now, five years later, Dean has become a star tennis player, while Cas has rebuilt his life as the coach of top women’s player Elena Ivanova. Their paths haven’t crossed since their painful split—until Dean signs up for a charity match, where his doubles partner turns out to be none other than Cas’s protégé, Elena. While Dean assumes Cas must resent him, he soon discovers that might not be the case. Can Dean finally confront his past mistakes and win back the love of his life?

fic | art

In My Time Of Need by jdl71/jld71 | art by MasoenArt (Masoena) dean x sam, E, 68,8k

After working a case in the idyllic seaside city of Port Townsend, Sam and Dean have a fight. Angry, Dean leaves, needing to drive and maybe stop at a bar where what he thought playing a harmless game of pool leads to a fight that leaves him bruised and broken. Waking in the hospital with Sam by his side, his memory is affected, leading him to mistakenly believe that he and Sam are mated.

fic | art

[backseatbabyy]

Eulalie Rosier - Marauders OC

~ General ~

Full Name: Eulalie Etiennette Rosier

Nicknames: Eula (By Evan, Sirius), ‘Lalie (By Élodie)

Birthdate: Febuary 15th, 1960

Blood Status: Pureblood

Residence: Giverny, France | Surrey, England | London, England | Giverny, France | London, England

~ Physical Appearance ~

Hair Colour: White Blonde

Eye Colour: Ice Blue

Skin Tone: Pale

Height: 5’4

Face Claim: Léa Seydoux

~ Background ~

Hometown: Giverny, France

Born in the town of Giverny, Eulalie spent the first seven years of her life in her father’s hometown. After the birth of her sister, Élodie, the Rosier family moved to England. However, the historic Rosier Manor was retained by her father.

~ Family ~

Mother: Octavia Rosier (née Malfoy)

Father: Gabriel Rosier

Brother: Evan Rosier

Despite their being close in age, Evan and Eulalie couldn’t be more different. While Eulalie is standoffish and reserved, Evan is ever the outgoing one. Unfailingly optimistic and with enough charisma to charm a Goblin, Evan is the sun to Eulalie’s moon. When Evan joins the ranks of Voldemort’s followers in his seventh year, Eulalie is powerless to stop him from his own destruction.

Sister: Élodie Rosier

The youngest Rosier, Élodie has all the charm of her brother and the kind of beauty that men fight wars over. A born artist and dancer, it goes without saying Élodie was destined for great things. However, at barely 15, Élodie became grievously ill with a mysterious illness and passed within a fortnight. It was rumoured throughout high society that Élodie was poisoned by a jealous rival.

~ Magic & Schooling ~

Wand:

Wood: Elm

Core: Unicorn Hair

Length: 11 3/4”

Flexibility: Supple

House: Slytherin

Best Class: Potions

Worst Class: Muggle Studies

Patronus: Snow Leopard

Patronus Memory: Her first kiss

Boggart: Drowning

Riddikulus: The water freezes in the shape of a wizard mooning her

Amortentia (what she smells like): roses, jasmine, fresh laundry, faint cigarette smoke

Amortentia (what she smells): spicy cologne, old leather, cigarette smoke, whiskey

Quidditch: No

Prefect: No

Slug Club: Not by choice

OWLs:

Potions: Outstanding

Charms: Exceeds Expectations

Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations

History of Magic: Outstanding

Astronomy: Exceeds Expectations

Muggle Studies: Acceptable

Defence Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding

NEWTs:

Potions: Outstanding

Charms: Exceeds Expectations

Astronomy: Outstanding

Defence Against the Dark Arts: Exceeds Expectations

History of Magic: Exceeds Expectations

~ Career & Affliations ~

1971-1978: Student at Hogwarts

1978-1981: Potioneer, Member of the Order of the Phoenix

1981-1994: Apothecary Owner

Eulalie Rosier was left devastated by the First Wazarding War. Her brother, Evan, dead. Her fiancé, imprisoned in Azkaban. Her parents and sister, taken by Dragonpox the year before. It was no surprise to the few that she kept in contact with that she had made plans to leave England, with no plan to return. She returned to Giverny and opened a small Apothecary that sold various herbs and potion ingredients.

~ Personality & Traits ~

Personality: Ever the calm, collected and confident one in the room, Eulalie exudes an air of elegance to all who meet her. Despite her social status, Eulalie dislikes attention, socializing and, on the whole, other people. She is often seen observing silently at parties and events. Reserved, and elusive, her quiet nature only serves to create an air of mystery around her. Eulalie is not one for making friends, she has little interest in playing the games that the purebloods participate in. she is rather aloof and has gained a reputation as stuck-up or snobbish.

Strengths: Observant, smart, good at reading people, self-confident

Weaknesses: Reserved, expects people to read her mind and understand what she means, blunt, deep water

Likes: Milky tea, cool and cloudy weather, firewhiskey, playing piano,

Dislikes: Transfiguration, liquorice, Professor Slughorn,

Hobbies: Writing, smoking, astronomy, reading about history

Favourite Place: In the shade underneath a tree just far enough from the Black Lake so that she can see it but not so close she’s scared of it

~ Relationships ~

Best Friend(s): Pandora Lovegood (née Lestrange)

Friends:

Lily Evans

Remus Lupin

Xenophilius Lovegood

Rival(s):

Severus Snape

Jeanie Thomas

Enemies:

Barty Crouch Jr.

Lucius Malfoy

Lover(s): Sirius Black

~ Misc. & Notes ~

Eulalie smokes, and buys cigarettes off a muggleborn Ravenclaw in secret.

She is Luna Lovegood’s godmother.

In 1994, Albus Dumbledore contacted Eulalie to organize a place to hide out for Sirius Black. She agreed.

Eulalie didn’t properly meet Harry until he was 14. She attended the Triwizard Tournament alongside Sirius, in dog form.

When she was 6, she was pulled underwater by a grindylow. She nearly drowned except her father dove in after her and was able to get it off her. She still has a fear of deep water and cried the whole way over the Black Lake in first year.

Her most prized possession is her engagement ring. Sirius proposed to her only a few months before he would be imprisoned. She kept it in her jewelry box with her other precious things for 13 years.

She didn’t see either of her siblings again after her graduation. She wasn’t even able to attend their funerals. They were buried in the Rosier family plot in the cemetery in Giverny and she leaves fresh flowers every morning.

She never liked Severus Snape, she thought he was a pretentious twit.

After the Second Wizarding War, Eulalie made an effort to get to know her younger cousin, Draco.

{eulalieeee!! i love her sm i coukd write about her forever}

[goosemixtapes]

max's favorite short stories & articles!

to be updated as i read new things! "articles" could be anything from political points to philosophical musings to fascinating stories. obligatory statement that i don't necessarily agree with everything in every one of these stories/articles, but i think about them a lot and want to share :)

short stories

Avi Cantor Has Six Months To Live by Sacha Lamb (@kuttithevangu) (novella) (so says the writing on the bathroom mirror. of gender & judaism & magic and t4t trans guys. cw for suicidal ideation and bullying)

Epistolary by Sascha Lamb ("The [stuffed] frog you are selling on your blog is MINE and he is NOT HAUNTED and his name is MOSHE not BILLY HOPPER.")

Chokechain by Andrew Joseph White (a trans man discovers his parents have replaced him with a robot version of his pretransition self. cw for transphobia and violence)

Sandrine by Alexandra Munck (the tagline for this one is "I dated a sun god in college" but that doesn't do justice to the sheer concept here please read this)

You Wouldn't Have Known About Me by Calvin Gimpelevich (set in a hospital ward where patients are recovering from gender-confirming surgery)

No Flight Without the Shatter by Brooke Bolander (novella) ("After the world’s end, the last young human learns a final lesson from Earth’s remaining animals." cw for climate change/extinction)

And You Shall Know Her By The Trail Of Dead by Brooke Bolander (what if you had to death-match-fight a virtual version of yourself at your meanest made by your boyfriend whose life you're trying to save would that be fucked up or what. cws for guns and violence)

Hell is the Absence of God by Ted Chiang (stories that clock you in the fucking teeth in the religious trauma.)

A Serpent for Each Year by Tamara Jerée (microfiction) ("Our relationship is almost a year old when I ask Nal why she is covered in snakes." cw for animal death)

The Front Line by W.C. Dunlap (microfiction) (cited as one of the world's finest attention-grabber openings. cws for police brutality, racism, and SA)

Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience by Rebecca Roanhorse (step into the simulation and gain an authentic experience! cws for anti-Native racism and alcohol)

The Husband Stitch by Carmen Maria Machado (one of the best stories ever written. once there was a girl with a green ribbon around her neck...)

City of Red Midnight by Usman T. Malik (a chronicle of nested stories-within-stories, set in old fantasy pakistan, inverting a myth from the one hundred and one nights)

We Work In Miraculous Cages by Brenda Peynado (following a college grad drowning in loans through the nightmare of neverending work)

Other Worlds and This One by Cadwell Turnbull (a brotherly relationship collides with a theory about atomic particles, space, and time)

And Then There Were (N-One) by Sarah Pinsker (a convention of alternate-universe selves--all Sarah Pinskers--becomes a murder mystery)

Fandom For Witches by Ruoxi Chen (fuck every other thing ever written about fandom)

Haunted Home by Conrad Loyer ("The ship features a recreation of a slave ship’s hold. The cruise prides itself on it. It is not a good recreation, if the metric is realism.")

articles & essays

Freedom of Sex (far and above the best essay on trans kids and transition)

Lockhart's Lament (on how math is taught in schools. that is, badly. one of the most cathartic essays i've ever read on education)

Against Cop Shit by Jeffrey Moro (on adversarial education)

Debunking "Trans Women Are Not Women" Arguments by Julia Serano (comprehensive, well-written, good to have as a reference point)

On Liking Women by Andrea Long Chu (and on the politics of desire)

Turning a Unicorn Into a Bat by Josh and Lolly Weed (on Mormonism, love, and whether a gay man and a straight woman can marry happily. cw for homophobia)

Laziness Does Not Exist by Devon Price (musings on motivation from a social psychologist and professor)

How Millennials Became the Burnout Generation by Anne Helen Peterson (how come everything happens so much?)

White Women Drive Me Crazy by Aisha Mirza (on the harm caused by white women. cw for racism)

Everything You Know About Obesity Is Wrong by Michael Hobbes (should be required reading for everyone at this point. cw for fatphobia and eating disorders)

Becoming Anne Frank by Dara Horn (on the cultural fascination with Anne Frank. cw for antisemitism)

The Ecstasy of Influence by Jonathan Lethem ([on/a] plagiarism)

On the Ethics of Boinking Animal People by Patricia Taxxon (video essay) (ostensibly what the title says, but actually a detailed musing on the essential properties of furry media and the freedom of dehumanization; changed my life a bit)

[mentaly-british-biologist]

How TF2 mercs enjoy pool days:

Ok, so this may be based on my own beliefs on what they would do during a pool day, but screw it. I want you to think of a scenario. All the mercenaries finally decide to go on a summer break to a nice hot area [Orlando, Cancun, whatever you like.] however, they didn't exactly read the website correctly, and instead of getting into a resort with a public pool, they end up getting a personal pool with their resort house. This will include Ms. Pauling because yes.

Scout:

-Immediately jumps into the pool, clothes and all.

-Says he played an 'Epic prank' on Medic by putting Ms Pauling's bikinis in his bag instead of his swimming trunks.

-Hits everyone with pool noodles for hours, apart from Spy. He can never find Spy.

-Planned a sick joke with Sniper to push Medic into the pool. [More on that later]

Soldier:

-Has to be stopped from covering himself in honey before jumping into the pool. [For the sake of that poor water filter]

-Also hits multiple people with a pool noodle and ends up sword fighting with Scout.

-Tries to take bites out of the pool noodles, as well as all the other foam items he can get his hands on.

-Refuses to take off helmet despite being halfway underwater.

Engineer:

-Stays on the sides, will occasionally jump in as long as his mechanical arm is wrapped up tight. [Water damage, yknow?]

-Adores how Pyro has so many different toys to play with by the pool, often watches over them as they play with them.

-Only one who takes photos

-Made a little beach themed watercooler near the hot tub to fill with alcohol and drinks.

Demoman:

-Ends up making personal drinks for everyone, a bartender at the hot tub.

-Absolutely destroys his skin by not wearing sunscreen, ends up walking away fried.

-Somehow sets fire to the water in the pool.

-Falls asleep in the pool at multiple points in time, sometimes face down. [Soldier flips him over, can't let him drown]

Heavy:

-Basically the lifeguard in all this chaos, wondering how the pool is simultaneously on fire and freezing. [It's Demoman and Sniper's fault]

-When he jumps in, it becomes a goddamn wave pool, and I'm talking about the ones that could drown people.

-He normally hangs out in the hot tub beside the pool, not normally going in unless it's important.

-Wants to chat to Medic, but he can never find him near the pool. Talks to Spy instead.

Sniper:

-Hangs around the deep end of the pool, hanging off the edges like spooder man.

-Never knows where Medic is during the morning and afternoons, so he decided to help Scout with a prank so he could figure out what's going on with him.

-Normally has a soft drink during the slow pool hours when everybody is relaxed.

-Threw ice into the pool when it lighted up. It did nothing.

-Like Soldier, still wears his hat despite being up to his neck in water.

Pyro:

-Refuses to even touch the water. The only time they jumped in is when the water was set alight. Loved every second of it.

-Has many water-safe unicorn toys and rubber ducks by the side of the pool to play with instead of actually going in the water.

-Keeps the mask on. Cmon, what did you expect?

-Can and will sit in the sun for the entire day if possible.

Spy:

-Stays cloaked whenever Scout comes around the pool with his pool noodle.

-When he does decide to get in the pool, the ashes of his cigarettes get in the water. Yuck.

-Wears only the finest of wool woven swimwear shorts. [That's a lie. They're silk too.]

-Found Medic one night. Drowning. Was a bit confused, but pulled him out anyway.

Medic:

-Physically does not know how to swim. Packed Ms. Pauling's bikinis instead of his own swim gear, so he didn't have to. Scout found out and pretended that it was his doing.

-Doesn't like the loud noises of the day, so usually comes out in the evening, dangling his legs into the water of the deep end.

-Comes out in full uniform like a weirdo. I'm talking about the lab coat, the white cardigan, the white shirt, the red rubber gloves, the baggy rouge/brown trousers, the black boots, all of it.

-Got pushed into the deep end by both Scout and Sniper. Started drowning, and eventually Spy found him and pulled him out.

Ms. Pauling:

-Sits by the side of the pool, usually with a martini or a cold drink.

-Got confused when she found her swimming costume inside Medic's suitcase.

-Usually dives into the pool with grace... with her glasses still on. Refuses to also take them off, due to the fact that she won't be able to see without them. [Excuses, excuses.]

-Will normally get a call from the Administrator. Everyone goes silent when this happens, due to the fact that they're supposed to be working.

Yeah, I think that turned out pretty well, but these are just headcannons. Agree if you want, but you don't have to.

:]

[impcrios]

( lorenzo zurzolo | cis-man | he/him ) — was that regulus black passing through diagon alley? those close to them say they remind them of an intricate tapestry of names and constellations, a family crest that’s starting to crack, a broken family that you don’t know how to live or even die for, a toppled pedestal of what you once believed in, a bittersweet memory of two small boys in grimmauld place’s garden, which i suppose seems to fit slytherin alumni. they’re actually pretty self-preserved, loyal, and intuitive for a twenty-two year old, but i wonder if it serves them well when working as unspeakable. rumor has it that the pureblood is aligning with the death eaters. i wouldn’t have guessed… but this is a conversation we should be having somewhere else.

name — regulus arcturus black nickname(s) — reg, reggie name meaning — regulus: little king. arcturus: watcher, gaurdian. black: dark. age — twenty-two date of birth — july 23nd star signs — leo sun, scorpio moon, cancer rising place of birth — london, england sexual orientation — homosexual religion — atheist spoken language(s) — english, french, german occupation — unspeakable education level  —  hogwarts, unspeakable apprenticeship  residence — grimmauld place family — orion black ( father ), walburga black ( mother ), sirius black ( brother ), kreacher ( his elf )  finances — when the wixen class war begins eat regulus first boggart — sirius dead patronus — if he were happy : hippogriff ( he doesn’t deserve this but i’ve done the stupid quiz numerous times and get the same results ) those with this unusual patronus are truly unique in character. people with the hippogriff are fiercely loyal to those who earn their trust, often willing to go the extra mile for those who they care for. if you have a friend with the hippogriff it is likely they are the most loyal to you above all others. those with the hippogriff patronus are often very proud and self assured. they do not forgive insults easily. occasionally this pride can drift into arrogance and cause friction with those around you. the characteristic which makes it so rare to find people with the hippogriff is the large heart. not many people have such a large loving heart as those with this patronus, something very special indeed. wand — laurel wand with unicorn hair 14 inches, hard flexibility, a wand belonging to a skilled witch or wizard who is likely to be precise, focused, and capable of powerful, controlled magic, with the laurel wood signifying a strong sense of purpose and the unicorn hair core providing consistent and loyal magical output.

tw: i mean he's a death eater with death eater views , brief mention of drowning

while not the eldest nor the heir to the house of black regulus knows all about taking up the mantle and what it means to take up duties that should have gone to his older brother. if he thinks about it too much he swears that the rumoured black madness might actually be real. regulus’ mind was wired different, he used to think, at least. if it weren’t for family pride, he might have settled well in ravenclaw. but the thing about regulus is that he loves his family too much to ever truly swing any other way than towards his true north ( which has always been the house of black ). even still, regulus has always looked back for his brother, and if he couldn’t find him he’d look to the stars. 

regulus was a quiet boy growing up, he loved his alone time in grimmauld garden, often calling sirius to come look at the pretty flowers that were blooming, and if sirius didn’t come then he’d call for kreacher, who he loved. 

when he had gotten a toy broom for his birthday he knew that it would be one of his outlets for when the world seemed too much. regulus enjoyed flying he thought about how when he would go to hogwarts how perhaps sirius and him would be on the same team. while regulus never said he loved his brother growing up he would always show it in actions. talking about their future together, because there was no way that there wouldn’t be one without the other, regulus saw the whole world in sirius’s eyes. their family was always about loyalty and he was always loyal to his brother. 

things changed when sirius left to hogwarts, and was put in a different house. he thinks that was the start of the change within their family. regulus had always been self aware of himself, if not been drilled in by their parents growing up, he knew that he couldn’t do what his brother did. 

so, he did everything right. the only real indulgence he gave himself in hogwarts was being on the quidditch team. he became prefect and headboy, and attended every single slug club party and schmoozed his way into an easy apprenticeship with the unspeakables. regulus yearned for knowledge, but more so yearned for secrets that he could never tell. 

the first stirrings of the dark lord intrigued him. regulus might have been a calm and gentle child growing up but his love for knowledge and power called to him. while always on the outside looking in, he doesn’t fully trust voldemort, but regardless of whether he trusts him his name holds power and regulus has always been interested in looking at powerful men’s weakness. 

so far, the dark lord has found regulus favourable, he says things about regulus being the youngest death eater with the mark on his arm. forever branded by a mad man. 

regulus is not a good person, he still holds his pureblood views while also being such a contradiction in himself. he thinks that he knows himself well but he doesn’t even realize how utterly lost he is. there are some days when he thinks that he’d betray his mother and father for sirius, while thinking the next that kreacher and regulus will escape somewhere very far away together, but as it stands now : regulus is to be betrothed, have an heir, and carry on the black name. the perfect son, heavy on his shoulders of things that should have gone to his brother if he had stayed. 

quietly, he thinks that this is the gift that he could give his brother was freedom. the weight off his shoulders to carry on the noble house of black. 

in the end it won’t end up mattering much anyway. 

if regulus had any last thoughts, he would have thought of his brother, and all the time they did have together, how he should have cherished it more. there’s a memory of them in grimmauld place garden, calling to sirius because he wanted him there, just to hold his hand, his eyes ever searching for kreacher to hold his other hand. his favourite people. 

regulus, like icarus, flies too close to the sun – doomed to fail, and much like icarus, he drowns. 

his father has recently died and he’s been struggling with that becoming the new master of the house.

( wanted connections. )

[n0tamused]

☀️🌙

"I would court you with more grace," he said, "if I knew how. My dragons and my feats of arms weary you, but they are all I have to offer. I haven't been a hero for very long, and before I was a hero I was nothing at all, nothing but my father's dull, soft son. Perhaps I am only dull in a new way now, but I am here, and it is wrong of you to let me go to waste. I wish you wanted something of me. It wouldn't have to be a valiant deed -- just useful."

Then the Lady Amalthea smiled at him for the first time since she had come to stay in King Haggard's castle. It was a small smile, like the new moon, a slender bend of brightness on the edge of the unseen, but Prince Lír leaned toward it to be warm. He would have cupped his hands around her smile and breathed it brighter, if he had dared.

"Sing to me," she said. "That would be valiant, to raise your voice in this dark, lonely place, and it will be useful as well. Sing to me, sing loudly -- drown out my dreams, keep me from remembering whatever wants me to remember it. Sing to me, my lord prince, if it please you. It may not seem a hero's task, but I would be glad of it."

-The last Unicorn, Peter S. Beagle

Me when I'm my own fanbase and making ships for the story 💪

Honestly,,,,,,, very tempted to develop them romantically in canon too...but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. Until then, I can enjoy random sweet and fluffy thoughts about these two. Also some more angsty ones because..of course.

Also had to include that paragraph from The Last Unicorn because it just screams these two. And I love it. TLU changed my brain chemistry when I was little istg, still one of my favourite childhood movies/books <3

Also some closeups,,,

Tbh not the most proud of this because it looks under baked and I did try two different colouring/shading techniques on these two lmao, so expect me to re-do this one in the future<3 Still very enjoyable though

Also debating on naming their ship something like Solar Eclipse bc it sounds badass but nice too, and they're both sun/moon coded respectively.

[mgrfp]

Lesser Known Monster Types Described

An assemblage of simple summaries. Not a replacement for research!

Ahuizotl. Dog-like lake dweller. Has spikes on back. Seizes victim with hand at end of tail.

Aka-Oni. Cousin of Ao-Oni. Cursed former human. Hulking horned rampager. Has red skin.

Alerion. Large razor-winged bird. Drowns self when offspring hatches.

Almiraj. Analogue of unicorn. Rabbit replaces horse. Chaotic. Feared by almost every animal.

Alp. Elf Dwarf hybridization. Vampiric. Can turn invisible. Paralyzes victim. Powers from magic hat.

Alraun♂ and Alraune♀. Plant human hybridization. Fragrant flowering being. Sometimes rooted sometimes roaming. Sometimes vampiric or cannibalistic sometimes feeds like human.

Anthusa or Flower Nymph. Divine blossom guardian. Life-force bound to flowering plant.

Ao-Oni. Cousin of Aka-Oni. Cursed former human. Hulking horned schemer. Has blue skin.

Arachne or Drider. Spider human combination.

Aura or Wind Nymph. Flying offspring of Boreas. Keeps world cool.

Azeman. Inconspicuous parasite of human. Appears human at day bat at night. Vampiric. Feeds from victim's foot.

Bak. Tall water dweller. Shapeshifter. Identity thief. Powers from magic bag.

Bake-Neko. Cousin of Neko-Mata. Elevated former cat. Sizeshifter and shapeshifter. Prefers ordinary cat form. Feeds on lamp oil.

Barometz or Tartarian Lamb. Plant sheep hybridization. Rooted for part of life-cycle.

Behir or Nathair. Cousin of Dragon. Electricity replaces fire. Has no wings but many legs.

Berserker. Voluntary Werecreature. Raging warrior. Transformation from fungus and animal skin.

Bjarndyrakongur. Analogue of unicorn. Polar bear replaces horse. Wise ruler of bear. Glows.

Boggart. Cousin of Brunaidh. Pernicious prankster. Disappears if secret name spoken.

Brollachan or Boneless. Cousin of Vough. Eldritch jelly blob. Psychovampiric. Shapeshifter. Incapable of proper human speech. Loner.

Bugbear. Cousin of Goblin. Large hairy cave dweller. Sometimes harmless prankster sometimes deadly pillager.

Caladrius. Doctor bird. Lives in sun.

Capelobo. Anteater goat human combination. Vampiric. Stuns victim with shriek.

Cecaelia or Octofolk. Analogue of Merfolk. Octopus replaces fish.

Cherufe. Fiery underground being. Shapeshifter. Skin always hot and rocky. Manages geo-phenomena.

Chiruwi. Mysterious being. Like human cut lengthwise. Powerful potioneer.

Culebre. Variety of Dragon. Powerful magic user. Has wings but no legs. Cruel enemy of Xana.

Dingbat. Deer owl combination. Sounds like horse. Harmless prankster.

Draugr or Aptrgangr. Undead former human. Corpse self-reanimated to commit revenge. Eyes always blue. Deanimated when mission accomplished.

Dullahan. Undead former human. Has detachable head.

Efreeti♂ and Efreetah♀. Variety of Genie. Fiery enemy of Djinn. Bound to place instead of item.

Enra-Enra. Smoke being. Frightening but harmless.

Erchitu. Cursed former human. White bull with flaming horns. Brings bad fortune.

Ettin. Cousin of Troll. Giant tormenter of human. Uncivilized. Can have more than one head.

Fext or Matoha. Undead former human. Almost indestructible incorruptible corpse. Sometimes able to resume human-like existence sometimes must regularly return to grave.

Fideal. Green-skinned weed-haired water dweller. Cannibalistic. Drowns victim.

Firbolg. Cousin of Fomorian. Giant forest dweller. Once proud race. Nature guardian.

Fomorian. Cousin of Firbolg. Giant cave dweller. Once proud race. Individually deformed. Can control weather and cause disease.

Garkain. Hideous jungle dweller. Cannibalistic. Glides through air and suffocates victim with skin-flaps.

Garuda. Huge mountable bird. Sometimes partly human.

Glawackus. Bear wildcat hybridization. Sounds like hyena. Stuns victim with gaze.

Gonakadet or Sea Wolf. Elevated former human. Huge wolf with fins. Brings good fortune.

Gorgad. Agile jungle dweller. Male basically human. Female covered with fur. Not to be confused with Gorgon.

Hamadryad or Tree Nymph. Divine forest guardian. Life-force bound to broad-leafed tree.

Hecatoncheir or Centimane. Giant offspring of Uranus. Rock-hurling enemy of Titan. Has 50 heads and 100 arms.

Heliad or Sun Nymph. Radiant offspring of Helios. Cries amber tears.

Hodag. Huge hairy beast. Has assortment of spikes. Produces stench.

Ijiraq. Child stealer. Shapeshifter. Eyes always red.

Iku-Turso. Huge antlered sea serpent.

Jenglot. Animated doll. Spirit summoned by magic user. Vampiric. Gains fleshly essence by feeding.

Jiangshi. Undead former human. Psychovampiric. Has unnatural coloration and stiffness. Moves by hopping.

Jinmenken. Dog human combination. Fast runner. Loner. Frightening but harmless.

Karkadann. Unicorn rhinoceros hybridization. Cries carnelian tears.

Kikimora. Cousin of Brunaidh. Human bird hybridization. Easily offended. Can switch from mild-mannered helper to chaotic occupier.

Kinnara♂ and Kinnari♀. Human bird combination. Has both arms and wings. Male sometimes like female sometimes like Centaur. Magnificent human protector. Inspires art.

Korred or Corrigan. Enchanting forest dweller. Bewitching female appears basically human but sometimes small. Ugly at day beautiful at night. Confuses or steals human with magic dancing. Chaotic male appears as horse or goat.

Lakhe♂ and Lasin♀. Large tusked forest dweller. Has red or blue skin. Cannibalistic.

Lampad or Torch Nymph. Sullen marching worshiper of Hecate.

Leucrotta or Crocotta. Deer lion combination. Wily predator of human. Has wide mouth with bone-strips instead of teeth. Speech mimic.

Maenad or Mad Nymph. Wild dancing worshiper of Dionysus.

Makara. Huge trunked sea serpent.

Marid. Variety of Genie. Chaotic watery being. Not bound to item or place.

Melusine. Dragon human combination. Powerful magic user. Appears human but must regularly resume true form.

Merrow. Cousin of Merfolk. Female visits land as human with webbed hands and webbed feet. Transformation from magic hat. Male avoids land.

Miage-Nyudo. Intimidating predator of human. Appears human but can increase height. Can only feed on fearful victim.

Myrmidon. Ant human hybridization. Disciplined warrior.

Nachzehrer. Undead former human. Corpse self-reanimated to slay former loved-one. Psychovampiric. Sometimes has horns. Deanimated when mission accomplished.

Nack or Nixie. Cousin of Pixie. Water-controlling water dweller. Sometimes harmless prankster sometimes deadly lurer. Female human-like but swampy green. Male horse fox human combination.

Neko-Mata. Cousin of Bake-Neko. Elevated former cat. Has forked tail. Shapeshifter. Cemetery guardian. Fond of dancing.

Nephela or Cloud Nymph. Floating offspring of Oceanus. Manages water-cycle.

Ningen. Huge wide-mouthed sea monster. Runs across ice-sheets.

Nue. Monkey tiger snake combination. Sings sad song. Brings bad fortune.

Obda. Merry forest dweller. Has backwards body. Breathes with holes in armpits. Harasses human with tickling or forced dancing. Spawns from lost blood.

Oread or Mountain Nymph. Divine mountain guardian. Life-force bound to cone-bearing tree.

Papinijuwari. Monoeyed hunter. Vampiric. Sizeshifter.

Patasola. Monopedal jungle dweller. Vampiric. Sometimes partly animal.

Peryton. Deer eagle combination. Wise enemy of human. Bathes in blood. Lived in Atlantis.

Peuchen. Snake bat combination. Feeds on human heart. Stuns victim with whistle.

Pombero. Small hairy forest dweller. Silent enemy of Siren. Has backwards feet. Stuns victim with hand. Steals voice.

Pugot. Large hairy tree dweller. Headless. Has wide mouth on top of torso. Sometimes harmless thief sometimes ferocious cannibal.

Qilin. Dragon deer ox combination. Brings good fortune.

Rokurokubi. Charismatic parasite of human. Appears human but can extend neck. Psychovampiric. Fond of vermin.

Rusalka. Enchanting water dweller. Deadly lurer. Steals or drowns human.

Serket or Girtablilu. Scorpion human combination.

Shachihoko. Dragon carp combination. Has golden scales and sharp spikes. Can control weather.

Shikigami. Animated paper-doll. Spirit summoned by magic user.

Snallygaster. Huge monoeyed bird. Partly metal. Seizes victim with talons or tentacles.

Snawfus. Majestic mountain dweller. White winged deer. Produces mist.

Spriggan. Cousin of Pixie. Sizeshifter. Lives in ancient ruins. Can cause disease. Sometimes guards treasure.

Su or Succarath. Wildcat ape hybridization. Quadrupedal forest dweller. Has wasp-shaped torso and broad tail. Frenzied render of any approaching being. Caring parent.

Sylph. Light-bodied flying being. Embodies element of air.

Tariaksuq. Caribou human combination. Invisible hunter. Shadow visible.

Tarrasque. Variety of Dragon. Extra pair of legs replace wings. Voracious. Has magnificent mane and rugged natural armor.

Troglodyte. Robust cave dweller. Uncivilized. Sometimes basically human sometimes partly reptile.

Tsuchinoko. Broad-bodied leaping snake.

Tsukumogami. Animated inanimate object. Spirit spawns from 100 years of human ownership.

Undine. Cold-blooded swimming being. Embodies element of water.

Urisk. Cousin of Faun. Nature guardian. Loner.

Vaettrar. Tiny helper or prankster. Enters house from drain.

Vibria. Dragon eagle human combination. Has wings but no hind legs. Inspires joy.

Vodyanoi♂ and Vodyanitsa♀. Slimy water dweller. Male human frog hybridization. Female human-like but cold and slippery. Demands gift or sacrifice. Steals or drowns human if not propitiated.

Vough. Cousin of Brollachan. Shadowy lurker. Has webbed hands and webbed feet. Breathes with hole in head. Can transform into jelly blob.

Vrykolakas. Undead former human. Appears basically human but has wolf-like posture. Feeds on human liver.

Vulpangue. Flat fox. Envelopes victim.

Wemic or Leotaur. Analogue of Centaur. Lion replaces horse.

Wittewijven. Secretive wise being. Lives in ancient ruins or pit cave. Appears human but ghostly white. Can transform into mist. Fond of dancing.

Xana. Pleasing water dweller. Capricious. Sometimes gives treasure sometimes steals child. Not to be confused with Zanna.

Yacuruna. Mysterious water dweller. Has green or blue skin. Wise but unpredictable. Sometimes heals human sometimes steals human. Can transform into dolphin.

Yale or Centicore. Horse boar elephant combination. Has swiveling horns.

Yedua or Jidra. Plant human hybridization. Rooted perpetually. Vicious eater of any reachable being. Inspires evil.

Yuxa. Elevated former snake. Has poisonous spikes or sting. Sly. Can appear human or reptile or combination.

Zagh. Bird human combination. Speaks every language.

Zanna. Child protector. Invisible to adult. Not to be confused with Xana.

Zityron or Sea Soldier. Large walking fish. Lives in water but grazes on land. Has natural armor like plate-mail.

So many possibilities!

[missterious-figure]

Brooke cant help but giggle as they watch the large yellow centaur getting attacked by so many little ones. Its quite clear that he could easily defeat them all, but he lets them attack him.

They wish to join. They've always wanted to play with little ones. But they stay where they are, hidden in the reeds. They know that their species has ruined their reputation, and it would be very likely that they'd be chased off. And they have to admit, the leading moose centaur and the blue unicorn are quite intimidating. The yellow one who is playing with the foals and fawns as well.

They would rather watch hidden, than be mistaken as a kelpie trying to lure the young to drown them.

A fawn and a foul come splashing over to Sun. The fawn had the bright green underbody of a elk. The foul had a rich sky-blue, pony underbody, with white splotches and socks.

"Sunny! Sunny! Can we make reed bracelets!"

The blue foul cried. The green fawn added,

"Please oh, please! There are some really big reeds right over there!!!"

The fawn pointed to the exact reeds Brooke was hiding in. Sun followed her gaze and smiled.

"Sure! Those reeds will do!"

He began to wade towards the reeds, getting closer and closer...

[kindheart525]

The creator of the universe and all its life, Gaia rarely visited Earth, at least not in a physical form. She seldom had time to dawdle as the mother of all creation, plus she did did not wish to be recognized by the creatures she ruled over except for special occasions.

This was a special occasion that presently brought her to Earth, but she could carry out her duties without being recognized. Gaia had a plan.

She went under the guise of a common earth pony by the alias of Amaryllis, but she was not here to merely mingle. She was to carry out her plan of producing two demigods to rule over Equestria: one representing the sun, one the moon. They were not only to relieve the common ponies of their duties of bringing day and night, but to unite the newly-formed nation once and for all.

All that was needed was a sire—or two—to raise the future rulers. Gaia scoped out a number of possible mates as she mingled among the ponies, taking extra care to ensure that she chose the right one. And this one was a promising candidate. 

Gaia—er, Amaryllis strolled beside the unicorn she cane to know as Mint Bliss, listening to him regale her about her passion for botany as she evaluated his demeanor, his wit, his wisdom, and other such qualities. She wanted the sire of her children to possess an outstanding heart and mind, after all.

“For, thou surely knowest, I adore my garden as I do my kin. Each plant hath meaning and purpose to my heart, no matter how beauteous they be to the eye,” he grinned with a mix of pride and deep humility. “Perchance, thou wish to learn about some?”

“Do go on,” Amaryllis encouraged him. “Prithee, tell me all about thy passions.”

“Splendid! For we hath presently arrived at one I most favor. Thither,” he gestured towards a plant with pink, leaf-like blossoms sprouting from it. “‘Tis an anthurium. It represents hospitality, a value I hold dear to my heart since my wee colthood days.”

“Thy greenery and flora thus far hath so many stories to tell! Does this one?” Amaryllis asked.

“Indeed! For thy question, gramercy!” Mint Bliss beamed like an excited colt. “These seeds of anthurium were gifted to me by an earth pony whose life I saved many moons ago, one by the name of Heavenly Glow. ‘Twas long before the union of the ponies, and most unicorns wouldst hath left a drowning earth pony to her demise at that point in time. But I couldst not let that stand. Thus, I swam in to rescue her myself. For she was a pony, a living creature no different than I or any other in this world. To let her drown would be to betray my own self.”

“A noble stallion thou art,” Amaryllis commented. “Thou wast ahead of thy time indeed. Thou hath a pure heart.”

“I wish not to be viewed as hufty-tufty,” he blushed at the compliment. “I shan’t be overwhelmed with pride. ‘Twas for no gain for myself, but how every pony should act towards his fellow creature.”

As Mint Bliss went on, Amaryllis...Gaia smiled to herself. ‘Twas rare to find a pony so good in intentions and actions, even when it went against what his fellow stallion would do. A beam of light and hope even in a dark world, he would surely raise an heir with the same integrity as himself. 

He would be the father of the sun.

~~~~~~~~~~

Previous: A Tale Of Two Towns Next: To A Fault

[kiernancore]

Terminal Illness, Gate A6 — a short story in five acts

Terminal Illness, Gate A6 by Kiernan Norman [5,800 words — fiction, girlhood, grief, lies, airport bar myth]

ACT I: Scheduled Departure

[PA ANNOUNCEMENT, 6:17 PM]

“Now boarding passengers for Flight 882 to Portland. Please proceed to Gate A6.”

Newark Liberty is underwhelming even for an airport. Terminal A is ugly in a way that feels personal, low ceilings, fluorescents flickering above low ceilings and blue carpet scarred with angry red lines. Everything smells like deodorizer, warm pretzels, and mean pennies.

Nora chose Newark on purpose. No one flies romantic out of Newark. No best-friend goodbyes at sunset. No lovers sprinting through the terminal yelling WAIT! Newark doesn’t send you anywhere. It deletes your origin.

She’s sitting in a hard plastic chair at her gate with a charging port that doesn’t work. She plugs it in anyway. Pretends it’s fine. Her phone is at 11%. She keeps the screen lit, watching her reflection fade out like it’s leaving first. She once played Emily in a college production of Our Town. She still thinks about it when no one texts back.

She wasn’t running. She was rehearsing. Her breath catches on nothing. She picks at her cuticles. She draws blood without noticing.

A man in a full suit is asleep against the window. His tie is undone, mouth slightly open. His bald, shiny head reflects the setting sun. Someone across the row is FaceTiming too loudly, about a dinner party. A baby cries. A little girl lies on the floor a few rows up, between her suitcase and her mother’s, curled up like it’s a bed. No pillow, no blanket. Just sleep. Nora watches the girl’s chest rise and fall like a promise that life can be simple. She wants to wake the girl up and ask, “At what age do we stop being allowed to rest like that?”

Nora tried to copy the girl. Same position. Same surrender. But her breath wouldn’t slow. It felt like pretending to drown. The girl’s suitcase is cracked open. Purple glitter lining. A half-zipped hoodie spilling out like intestines.

Nora sees it. Wants it. The color. The softness. The fact that it belongs to someone who doesn’t hate herself yet. She leans over slowly. Fingers brush a pencil case. Something with unicorns. Inside: pink eraser. Crumpled sticker sheet. One single ring pop, blue. She pockets it. Doesn’t eat it. Doesn’t unwrap it. Just lets it rot through the foil like she’s waiting to be caught with it.

The girl exhales. Rolls slightly but doesn’t wake. She looks away. The foil warms in her coat. Heavy. Like mercy.

She had a drink at the closest sports bar thirty minutes earlier. She wasn’t carded until she couldn’t tell the bartender what she’d like. “Something white,” she told him, while shoving her ID back into her wallet. Thirty-three and still ordering like a stock character.

The wine came already sweating. She held the glass like a child clutching a dead bird. It tasted like nail polish remover. She drank it anyway. Not for the taste, but for the weight of it. It burned once it was in her. Like her body was rejecting it, but not as much as it was rejecting her. It tasted like someone else’s mouth. One that never wanted her back.

But she liked how it slowed her thoughts, how her words felt like they took the curly slide down. Memories landed like flies, bloated and buzzing. Once, she pretended to be asleep for an entire car ride just to hear someone say her name. No one did. She used to dress up for imaginary events and wait in lobbies until her legs hurt. She sometimes swallowed cherry pits to give herself something to worry about. She remembers being small enough to fall asleep in someone’s arms and not worry if she deserved it.

She looks around the gate at these people and their stubbornly real lives. Their dinner parties. Their crying babies. Their sleep, untouched by threat. It all makes her want to cry. And she isn’t sure why. She imagines coughing into a napkin, staining it red. Watching them watch her. The horror. The sympathy. The way they’d lower their voices. She isn’t proud of the fantasy. But she isn’t ashamed, either.

Her knees are tucked under her body, a position that isn’t comfortable but makes her feel lithe. All the cool girls in fourth grade sat like that. With a deep breath and a second of blurred concentration, she attempts to unfurl. She grabs her beige Primark puffer from her lap and straightens her legs. She messes it up, finds herself, with horror, standing up on the seats, heads above her fellow delayed, her jacket hanging like surrender in her left hand. She steps down. Her knees buckle. She doesn’t dare check if the girl’s mother saw. If she did, she’ll never stop seeing it.

She passes a window on the way, glass darkened by dusk and fluorescent haze. Her own reflection startles her. She looks like someone who might be dying. Or someone who wants you to ask if she is.

She goes back to the bar. Orders another glass of wine. She doesn’t want to enjoy it. She wants something to hold.

A man sits two barstools down. He has a New York Post curled up in his fist, but it looks old, soggy, like he’s been clutching it for forty days. Nora has a soft spot for The Post. Her father always read it. Every salacious headline, every forced pun, and he’d save Page Six for her from 7th grade clear through graduation. There’s not a lot of situations reading about Paris Hilton stepping out of Las Palmas or guessing ‘Mary-Kate Olsen’ for every blind item can’t improve. She trusts The Post. She trusts those that purchase it.

He offers a small, polite nod to Nora. She reciprocates. He’s mid-40s, nursing something dark and probably strong. Salt at the temples. That specific kind of kind-looking tired that means he’s either divorced or recovering from something noble. The kind of man who gives good conversation to strangers, but is withholding at home. Worn leather satchel. Clean hands. He seems like the type who journals. Or at least used to. She can feel him noticing her. Not in a threatening way, just in a way. Like someone watching weather happen.

They sit in silence for a while. The squeaks of an NBA game on the mounted television, the occasional clatter of suitcase wheels. The world idles around them. She likes that about airports, how no one expects you to be anywhere else. It’s the only place she’s ever felt appropriately paused.

But ambient noise always circles back to ghosts. The voicemail haunts her. The one from him that hit like a live grenade. Better to wonder than know. She turns back to the man who maybe journals. A straw wrapper flutters off the counter, caught by someone’s boot, then kicked loose again. He leans down and grabs it, folds it neatly into a napkin, then tucks the napkin into the trash compartment behind the bar. He does it without comment. Without flourish. Kindness that isn’t meant for her always feels like a betrayal.

“Flight delay?” he asks eventually.

She nods.

“Where to?”

She shifts on the barstool, like the shape of the air just changed. Then, like she’s joking but not really: “Do you think people deserve the truth?” 

He’s quiet. Not because he doesn’t have an answer, but because he wants it to count.

“Sometimes.”

She nods. Like that’s what she needed to hear. Like that gave her permission. She looks out the window at the tarmac, where nothing is happening. Where nothing ever is.

“Portland,” she says.

In her head, the voicemail loops. “I’m in Portland now. I didn’t know how to tell you…” She didn’t listen to the rest. Just bought the ticket. Because if he was saying he loved her, she didn’t want to hear the part where he didn’t mean it. And if he was saying goodbye, she wanted to be gone first. She made it to the checkout page three times before hitting purchase. She never planned to board. Just wanted to mean it more than he did.

Nora speaks again, softly. “I have six weeks.” She’s practiced the voice. Low. Calm. The kind that gets taken seriously. It lands like a feather dropped in water. She lets it hang. She doesn’t blink. He’s still looking at her, but not in shock. He just recalibrates, like he’s been handed a different version of the conversation and is deciding whether or not to accept it.

He accepts it. “That’s not long. But it’s enough to ruin someone,” he says, just above a whisper. Then, after a self-conscious beat, “I’m sorry.” She nods. Like it’s true. Like she’s tired. Like it’s a story she’s told too many times.

“I’m not the kind of girl you think–” she starts. He cuts her off.

“You’re the kind of girl who’d let someone fall in love with her just to prove a point,” he says.

It’s not about getting away with it. It’s about what the lie makes possible.

ACT II: Unscheduled Delay

[PA ANNOUNCEMENT, 7:08 PM]

“Flight 882 to Portland is delayed due to incoming weather. Please remain near Gate A6.”

The voice is still far too cheerful. Like it was hired by someone who’s never flown out of Newark. It’s not a storm. Just fog, or wind, or some vague malfunction of time. Enough to fray everyone’s nerves without granting anyone the dignity of drama.

The bartender brings another glass of wine. She takes a sip and sucks it through her teeth. Daniel, she still hasn’t said his name out loud, orders whiskey. Neat. No ice. No performance. He fingers the rim of the glass. Round and round. She always enjoys diagnosing the pathologies of strangers. See? she thinks. I’m not the only one projecting.

“I don’t usually drink,” he says. “But something about airports.” Then, quieter: “I like the illusion of bravery it gives me.” Daniel’s hands won’t stop moving. Nora watches like it’s proof he’s lying too. She believes him, which is dangerous. Honesty has always been the fastest way to manipulate her.

“Lying doesn’t feel like something I learned,” she adds, swirling her wine, “It feels like something that happened to me.” She’s aware of how she’s holding the glass. He doesn’t laugh. He just looks at her like that’s the most honest thing she’s said all day. Because it might be.

She adjusts her posture. Like someone whose absence would echo. “Do you want to know what it is?” she asks.

He nods.

She lets the breath build. Then: “It’s a blood disorder. Genetic. Invisible.” No name. She used to give it one. But people Google things.

“It’s like my body is leaking me out.” A beat. “Like it’s been holding a scream since November.”

She expects pity. What she gets is worse: reverence. He leans in, not physically, just spiritually. Like she’s a relic. A rare species in its final minutes.

“Then why does it feel like you’re already half-gone?” She doesn’t flinch. But her throat tightens. The space between them cinches like thread being pulled.

“You know what’s worse than dying?” she asks.

He waits.

She might say: Not being missed. Being alive and still invisible. Loving everyone in past tense because it hurts less. She shrugs. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” This isn’t acting anymore. This isn’t performance. This is the lie colonizing her.

Daniel exhales.“If I knew you were dying, I’d still sleep with you. Not to be kind. To be remembered.”

“I didn’t know I could be seen like this,” she says. “Just by being doomed.” She’s never felt more loved. She’s never told a worse lie. And she means it. God help her, she means it.

For Acts 3-5

[littlebigfandomtrash]

Sir Gleamspore and a conversation of guilt and grief

The living room lay draped in silence, the kind so still it felt sacred — as if even the shadows dared not stir. Moonlight poured in through the tall, arched window like liquid silver, stretching long across the floorboards and curling along the old velvet curtains. Somewhere far off in the forest, an owl mourned into the dark.

Elphias sat in the high-backed chair near the window, his frame outlined in ghostlight. His silver hair fell loose around his face, and his horn—long, proud, and fractured near the base—caught the moon’s glow like frost on ancient bone.

The hearth had gone cold, and neither he nor Nelina had spoken in what felt like hours. Her knitting needles lay forgotten beside her. She had not even lit another candle. It was just the two of them and the dark. And the weight of everything that refused to die.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Elphias said at last, his voice hoarse and thinned by memory. “Not here. Not in this chair. Not in this house. Not breathing.”

Nelina, still curled on the settee in her nightgown of sheer blue threads, turned her head slowly. Her hair was the color of snowfall, spilling like mist over her shoulder. She didn’t speak yet, only watched him as one might observe a distant storm from a lonely tower.

Elphias swallowed, the words dragging themselves from some cavern inside him. “I should’ve died with them.”

The sentence hung like smoke.

“They were slaughtered,” he went on, staring through the glass. “My whole unit. Ambushed at dusk. The air turned foul and the trees moved like they had eyes. The sky itself shrank. And I—” He exhaled sharply. “I was bound. Rooted to the earth like a tree, because I was spelled to stay behind until help came. I watched the sun set from the undergrowth. I felt their deaths. Every one of them.”

Nelina’s voice came, soft but steady. “You weren’t the one who cast the spell.”

He turned toward her, eyes gleaming in the dim. “I didn’t refuse it either.”

“You couldn’t have,” she said gently. “It was high magic, woven into the command itself. It forced you to stay. It was meant to protect you. No one could’ve known it would end in—”

“I should’ve broken through it,” he interrupted, his voice tight. “I felt the moment it wavered. I could’ve shattered it. I was strong enough.”

She stood now, slowly crossing the room in silence. Her feet made no sound, the moon catching in the folds of her gown and glimmering like stars drowned in water. She came to kneel before him, her hand resting on his knee.

“Elphias…” she said, lifting her eyes to his, “breaking that spell would’ve torn your horn from your skull. It was rooted too deep. You know that.”

His lips curled in a grim smile. “Then let it have. I’d rather it be shattered in their defense than whole in my shame.”

“You think it wouldn’t have broken anyway?” she whispered, her fingers brushing the fractured base of his horn. “You bear the crack because you tried, even then. Even with every binding still wrapped around you like chains. You pushed against it so hard it nearly destroyed you.”

He looked down at her, face shadowed and still, his breath shallow. “But I stayed behind.”

“You were forced to.”

“I stayed behind,” he repeated, quieter now. “And now I’m the last. The only unicorn left in the entire division. How is that fair?”

She pressed her palm to his cheek, her thumb tracing the hollow beneath his eye. “It’s not,” she said. “Survival never is. But you being alive means something. To me. To the ones who did make it out, scattered and broken. To the memory of those who didn’t.”

“I dream of them every night,” he murmured. “Running through smoke. Calling for me.”

“I know.”

“I wake up hearing them scream.”

“I know.”

Her hand moved to cradle his face, thumb stroking over his temple. “But if you had died with them… we wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have gotten to hold you again. To remind you that you're not just the last. You're still here. That has to count for something, even if you don’t see it yet.”

He didn’t reply. Couldn’t. He felt brittle, as if one more word might crack him entirely.

So he leaned forward, bowed not in defeat but in surrender — not to guilt, but to her touch. His forehead pressed gently to hers, and his eyes slid shut. The air between them trembled with all the words that couldn’t be said. Her other hand rose to thread through his silver hair, and he let himself rest against her, too weary to carry the weight of blame any longer.

The room was quiet save for the whispering of leaves outside. The forest, ancient and watchful, stood in mourning beneath the moon.

And in the soft hush of that broken night, Elphias — scarred, grieving, beloved — let the silence cradle him.

Let her cradle him.

Let himself live.