"Nice place you have here," says Desire, sliding into the booth opposite Hob.
Hob, unfortunately, recognizes them by voice alone. Desire speaks with the melody of an arpeggio, smoothed into oblivion by the sustained press of a piano pedal. Drag without release, in comparison to Dream's resounding deep notes.
"Never seen you here before," Hob says, instead of get out of my pub. He doesn't actually need to start a fight.
"I've decided to respect my brother's play set for now," Desire says archly, as if this is a huge consideration on their part. "He's been through so much recently, after all."
"And you've been so much help with that," Hob says.
Something dangerous flashes briefly in Desire's eyes, and Hob remembers how fickle they can be. Like fire, Dream had said.
Then it subsides. "Careful, Robert," they say easily, leaning on their hand, "one might think you've chosen a side."
No thinking about it, Hob thinks. "Families shouldn't have sides."
"Oh, ours isn't supposed to," Desire agrees. "And yet."
And yet. "Is there something in particular that has you breaking your self-imposed generosity today?"
It's one day before his and Dream's usual meeting, after all. That can't be a coincidence. Technically, they meet all the time now, but they always keep June 7th for nostalgia's sake.
"I simply enjoy the atmosphere," says Desire, leaning back in their chair. They thrust out a hand, and a rainbow flag flutters off the wall into their grasp, drawn by their whims. Desire drapes it over their shoulders.
"I guess that makes sense," Hob says.
Desire raises an eyebrow.
Hob gestures at them. "Desire. Isn't that your thing?"
They give him a crafty smile, a little teeth, that suggests Hob's going to learn something he may not entirely like. "Well, it is certainly of interest to me."
"Of interest," Hob echoes. Might as well say fire was "of interest" to a pyromaniac. "Isn't that what you do? Dream makes dreams, and..." he trails off.
"I am Desire," they say. "So, in a way, I feel all desires at all times. Yes, even yours, Robert." They pat him on the cheek, and wink. "I know what you feel."
Hob's cheeks heat, but Desire doesn't linger on it, thankfully.
"But, my own desire? Hm, no, not in the way you would think."
"But you--" Hob doesn't know how to phrase the confusion in his mind.
Desire runs their tongue along their lower lip. "Are you calling me a slut, Robert?"
"Would take one to know one, I suppose," Hob says before he can even think about it, and Desire laughs, bright and loud.
"You are so cute. You would be delicious if you weren't obsessed with Dream. But, no. I can feel desired," Desire says, emphasizing the past tense. The objective nature of it. "But that, while certainly tasty, is not quite the same as feeling it oneself, now is it?"
What might it be like, Hob thinks, feeling a pang of sympathy for them despite how they've treated Dream, how he'd automatically marked them as an enemy in his mind, to be surrounded by wanting and not be able to feel it?
"I... guess not," he says. "So you don't want anything?"
Desire shrugs. "I enjoy things. But if I can't have them, it simply passes like--" they pull off the flag and let it flutter to the floor "-- a gust of wind. And I move on to something else. Otherwise, I chase others' desires. Your inn is full of them. Desires for peace, for belonging, for change and magic and-- yes, lust, too, but more of an undertone. It is..." they run their tongue over their teeth, thinking. "Aromatic."
"What does desire 'taste' like?" Hob asks.
"Why don't you tell me," Desire says.
"I'm not going to lick you," Hob says, and Desire cackles.
"Open offer," they say. "Be all metaphorical like Dream, then."
"Alright, fine." Hob decides to indulge them, because he has actually learned something interesting today. "It's like... the smell of a good meal. You don't quite... taste it, exactly? But you can imagine tasting it."
"Good answer," says Desire, and steals his drink for a sip. "I knew I could count on you to listen, Hob."
Hob's not sure if it's the tone, like something long undecided has now been settled, or if it's the use of his old nickname, but suddenly the afternoon tilts, and Hob realizes with a swoop in his stomach that they're here for a purpose, and not just poking at Dream.
The Endless almost never communicate directly, Hob knows this. Goddammit.
"I've spent a lot of time in these sorts of places, you know," Desire says, gesturing around. "They are right--" they interlace their fingers in example "--in the center of my realm."
"Depending on the year, I would have thought you and Despair together," Hob says, wary now that he's realized this is coming to some sort of point.
"A common assumption," Desire says, nodding like a teacher whose student is getting on the right track. "See, people often think my twin and I are opposites. Desire, Despair." They hold out both hands separately again, then clasp them. "But they don't have it right. Hope is the opposite of Despair. Do you know what the opposite of Desire is?" They reach across the table to tap their sharp nails against his sternum. "Shame."
"And that's... part of your domain, as well?" Hob guesses.
"Indeed. Who could know shame as well as one who desires? They both--" they lay their hand flat to his heart "--live here."
Hob supposes he himself has had plenty of desires over the years, and plenty of shame too -- though not necessarily over the same matters.
"Hence," they spread their hands wide, "my presence. The duality of Desire."
"So what do you do?" Hob asks. "When you're here because of shame, I guess."
"I am always both," says Desire. "But." They smile sweetly, and it actually does look sweet, for once. "I am merely here to hold your hand."
Hob must look at them with an expression of vague disgust, for they snort and roll their eyes.
"Not you, Robert. You!" They gesture broadly at the entire inn. "Death is always going on and on about serving humanity. I know how to do my job too, you know."
They frown at him, at the idea he might think otherwise, and it's-- it's actually kind of sweet, how much they care about this. It really is.
"That's sweet," he says, and Desire grumbles. Hob can't help but smile.
"I take the charge of those who live in the heart of Desire very seriously," they sniff. Their gaze slants over Hob's shoulder, watching something across the room. "Relatedly, if that man at the bar follows through on his desire to say something homophobic to those children on their date, I am going to shoot him."
"Ooookaaayyy," Hob says, snapping his fingers in front of their eyes until their attention turns back to him. Hob's bartender will handle any issues; he would really rather not have an Endless making a scene.
Desire smiles placidly at him. "What was I saying? Ah, yes. Desire and shame go hand in hand. Almost like dreams and nightmares, you might say."
Hob goes still again, on instinct. "Right."
"My sister and I are very close, even if we are not, actually, opposites. Dream and I were close, once." They drag their finger around the rim of Hob's glass. "Wanting. Dreaming. So similar, and yet, so different, too. It hurts, to really let yourself want what you've dreamt of. It hurts to desire, don't you think? It's sharp, like a blade."
"Yes," Hob says. "It is."
"Mmm. But shame... shame is like a heavy, warm blanket. It makes you want to just--" they mime pulling fabric over their head-- "disappear. My brother and I have a very complicated relationship. Perhaps, one day, we will be on better terms again, and he can tell me about his desires, and I can tell him about my dreams. I would love to know what it feels like."
Hob isn't sure if he's putting the pieces of this meandering conversation together correctly, but whatever he is picking up on, he doesn't like the sound of.
"Dream is always going on and on and on and on about the importance of dreams and it's so annoying but you know what? I'm starting to think he's right." They give Hob a warning glance. "Do not tell him I said that. But, yes, I'm afraid that desires without dreams hand in hand are just--" they slide their hand across the table and let it stop at the edge. "Impotent. Static. And god knows what good dreams even are without desire but Dream will never admit that."
"So you're what," Hob says, even though he knows this is not what this is about, "trying to mending fences?"
Desire smiles sunnily. "I just want him to call me. I'm bored, and he's spent far too much time in my sister's realm recently."
Then they stand in one fluid motion.
"What are you saying," Hob asks. He feels sort of faint, whiplashed.
"Oh, I've said nothing, I'm doing nothing. I merely don't want to have to fill an empty seat next June, that is all. I'll be far too busy." They wink, and then they're gone.
Hob sits still for a long time, after. He's still not sure he understood... all of that. He understands that the Endless aren't supposed to interfere in each other's affairs and that sometimes riddles result.
What he does understand is that if Desire, of all people, has decided to be helpful, then he definitely has something to be concerned about. Something he needs to do something about.
He shakily drains the rest of his glass, then stands. Hob has never gotten anywhere by being static.
Time to go try to do something about it.
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Charlie Cox experience at Philly Fan Expo 2023
So LET”S TALK ABOUT ME MEETING CHARLIE. I’m actually going to make two posts - this one just about my experiences with Charlie, because they were incredibly meaningful and deserve their own post, and then another one about the rest of the con!
I’m going to talk about Charlie first, because of how amazing the experience was, one of the best I’ve had, especially at the autograph table. I’ve done photos, gotten autographs and such before from other celebs - from niche voice actors I loved to people like David Tennant - but this felt Really Really Big. Obviously, I was nervous as all hell because holy shit Charlie Cox, my favorite actor whose work altered the course of my life. I won’t lie - I’d been practicing what to say to him in case I freaked out, but I’m happy to say that everyone who reassured me it would go great, because he was so, so genuine and kind, were right.
The photo op happened first (and thank you to everyone on tumblr guiding me where to go, cause I was LOST about where that was happening), and that went fast. By that point in the con hall, I’d already ditched my Jessica Jones jacket and gloves cause holy shit it’s hot and I am a creature of snow and ice, and my hair was a mess, but honestly I didn’t care, cause there he is. You don’t get long, but he made the most of it and he was SO sweet. Ya’ll, he asked my name, said my name as he shook my hand, and called me ‘my dear’ in that beautiful voice.
I was literally on the moon, but it was time for the big question:
Will he hold the red thread from TRT?
So in a quiet, nervous, soft author voice, I asked, ‘would you be ok with holding this end of the thread?’
HE FUCKING DID.
HE HELD IT.
HE HELD. THE. RED. THREAD.
I’m fairly certain he doesn’t know about the fic at this point - he wasn’t sure where to hold it until I told him, but he loved that it lit up! AND THEN HE PUT HIS ARM AROUND ME AND I GOT TO PUT MY ARM AROUND HIM BACK.
I’m fairly certain I’m dead in the photo. My soul had left my body. I had ascended. I saw Jesus and he looked like Charlie. I had achieved fic author heights never imagined. My brain filled with enough serotonin and dopamine to sink a ship. I didn’t care that I was hot and sweaty or that my hair was messy or that my cosplay didn’t work out like I’d planned. I had been blessed.
also look at that forearm holy shit
I floated outta that gd room ya’ll. I’m pretty sure @wonderlandmind4 did the same. WE FROLICKED OUT OF THAT HALL LIKE
But things got even better at the autograph table, and I had one of the most touching experiences ever.
not me tearing up thinking about it.
That line was long, but I kept getting glimpses of him and I could already tell he was enjoying interacting with people, and he was making sure everyone got their bit of time with him instead of letting anyone rush people through. He was so happy looking, laughing and grinning, high fives and fist bumps for kids, chatting with fans. Which made me feel a little more confident.
I know some people wondered if I’d tell him about TRT, and I’d already decided I wasn’t going to. Instead, I really, really wanted just a second to tell him what his work as Daredevil had meant for me, as someone who became disabled around the same time Matt did as a kid, and who related to... a lot of what Matt went through in the show. I’d practiced it over and over again, and there was only a fifty percent chance I wouldn’t start crying while telling him, and I wasn’t even sure I’d have time to tell him depending on how much time we had.
He made time.
I got up to him with my art print holy shit he’s even more beautiful in person and his eyes are STUNNING. He said hi, and asked my name so he could personalize the autograph if I wanted (DUH, YES PLEASE), and he apologized about the line after we shook hands. I jokingly told him it was fine since I’d driven hours to get here. A little time in line wasn’t a bother. He even loved one of the buttons on my lanyard - the button of Matt wearing a heart crown specifically! And as he was writing, I knew this was my chance to tell him. He was still signing, so I just decided to go for it in case I ran out of time.
“I just wanted to tell you,” I said quietly, “as someone who became disabled as a kid around the same age as Matt did—”
And then he did something I didn’t expect, something I’d rarely seen anyone do, famous or not, and something I’d never had an actor or artist do for me.
He immediately set down the pen, leaned in close over the table, and made direct eye contact, while giving me the most genuine, gentle, encouraging smile I’d ever seen.
In that moment, I knew everything in him was listening, that he cared about what I was about to say and recognized that this was important to me, and that he’d closed the distance to make this conversation just... us. It felt personal in a way I’ve never experienced at a con or signing.
Just like that, I wasn’t afraid to tell him what I’d wanted to.
“And as someone who related to... a lot of what Matt went through, his struggles in the show, and especially the dark parts of season 3,” I said, more confidently now, “I wanted you to know that all the work you put in, the way you played it, the way you played Matt and treated it seriously, seeing that helped me process and heal from a lot of my own trauma and pain over what I’ve gone through with my illnesses. What you did was important and it really helped me. So I wanted you to know that, how much that meant to me, and to say thank you.”
The whole time I spoke to him, he kept direct eye contact, and didn’t look away once. He didn’t get antsy, or look like he wanted me to hurry up (which I’d have understood, cause damn, these are long days for him). He listened, fully engaged and leaning in, his eyes warm and soft and kind but incredibly serious. I’m not sure how often he’s been told something like this—a lot, I expect; his portrayal was just that good, and I know it was important to a lot of fans—but what I was trying to tell him clearly meant something to him. I felt heard, seen, and understood.
Charlie really does care about his fans. It isn’t an act. I’m sure of it now.
“Thank you, truly,” he said, just as quietly but with that honest smile, eye crinkles and all, and seeing it in person, that close up, I swear the room felt ten times brighter. “Thank you for coming to tell me that. It means a lot, the idea that something I did meant so much and that it could help you. I’m so grateful that you were able to come visit and tell me.”
We shook hands after that. He wished me a good day and I told him thank you again, and that was that. The interaction only lasted maybe a minute, but it meant the absolute world to me, as did what he’s done as Daredevil. And now he knows that.
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Fantasy Tails
Messing around with magical biology with some rough sketches and lore :) Tagging some who might be interested :3
@librathefangirl @zorria @7-ratsinatrenchcoat @theprinceofliones @stvrlightthearts
Demon
Another take on the traditional (?) demon tail! The heart on the end protects the demon's retractable, venomous (or just very pointy) barb.
Tails, venomous and nonvenomous, are used for balance, especially while the demon is maneuvering in mid-air. whether they are jumping or flying. flight. They're deceptively strong even though their mechanisms seem delicate and the fluff covering them doesn't appear as tough as the rest of the demon's skin. A younger demon’s tail reaches full size before they reach their adult height. Coloration depends on the demon’s primary colors, including features like hair, eyes, teeth, skin, and tongue.
Tail venom develops during late adolescence- an evolutionary process that serves two purposes. One, that the baby and toddler cannot injure its parents, itself, or its other potential packmates with a potent and uncontrolled poison. Second, that the toxin may adapt to whatever might suit the demon best as it grows. Environmental conditions are thought to play a direct role. High-level demon venom has no ‘antidote’ because it, structurally, is one-of-a-kind; antivenom would require an (albeit slightly) different formula even between identical twins. There are three official categories this venom can fall into: defensive, offensive, and constructive. Some demons will inject their venom into themselves or other demons on a circumstantial basis to help, not harm! A few toxins specifically adapt to treat a temporary condition their demon frequently suffers from- for instance, to treat extreme insomnia or muscle cramps, to dissolve abscesses from the inside, or to reset one of the body’s natural cycles. Level of toxicity can fluctuate throughout the demon’s lifetime.
Goddess
Goddesses’ legs are built for flight - not just for landing - they are very strong!
Feathers all along the tail can fan out and adjust individually, though, of course, the tail end has the most maneuverability. For potion recipies requiring the physical essence of a goddess feather, it is not usually specified whether it need be a tail or wing feather. Instead, the recipe will reference a specific altitude or bloodline. The wings and tails of goddesses contain special adaptations per their homeland and family line. A feather separated from the body of some goddess species becomes serrated and sharp like a blade, for instance, and these contain a potent defensive energy. Coloration also depends on place of origin and closely resembles that of the wings.
While aiming for the wings is considered a legitimate battle tactic, aiming for the tail is considered an extreme insult and foul play, a sentiment largely reciprocated and respected by the Demon Clan.
Fairy
The creatures known as fairies / fae / faerie display immense biological and magical diversity and that's fascinating to work with, so I added them to the list for funsies.
A fairy’s tail begins as a simple prehensile limb and grows into a symbol of the fairy’s power as they mature. In their base form, tails are most often used in dancing and in daily nonverbal communication. Fully awakened fairies’ tails transform in the likeness of their wings, sprouting insect-like appendages which greatly increase the speed and maneuverability of the fairy’s flight. For those of the highest ability, it becomes near-impossible to disorient them or to knock them from the air.
Some examples I thought up!
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