No hate to therians, especially not canine kin, but when I open up the alterhuman/nonhuman tags, I wish there was more than just animal kin, y'know?
You guys already have a word, you guys are animals and therians, but the word "supernatural" is taken by one of the biggest tumblr fandoms and it's so hard to find my people that way.
I want to interact with more vampires, fae folk, mermaids, zombies, angels, demons, devils, haunted spirits, etc. Even robots and dolls! Where are you at??? I need you.
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BTW just a reminder to the dissociative folks out there, you aren't writing a story, you have a disorder. It's okay for there to be "continuity errors" or parts just "disappearing". That's not a plot hole or sign you are faking. (Nor is the opposite a sign you are faking) It's okay to just shrug at a revelation / change in dynamic / thing that seems out of place and just let it be weird over there. It's completely normal for your system to change frequently, for there to be 'plot holes' and inconsistencies in your system / recall / collective history, etc. It's part of the disorder. If you were writing a story, perhaps it would be bad writing, but you aren't and your real experiences do not have to live up to a theoretical plot line.
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“Sometimes, I think it would’ve been better if you had just killed me when we first met.”
They’d been staring at the fire, despondent and silent for so long that Rayla hadn’t thought Callum was going to talk at all, everyone else asleep in the vague quiet of the Uncharted Forest. But her head snapped up now, eyes wide awake and sharp, her voice spitting like venom.
“Callum, how could you say that—”
“They have the map,” he says listlessly. “And I have his Key. There can’t be a lot of other ways for this to end. Either you kill me first before the world is doomed, or he will, after—”
“Nothing is going to happen to you,” she says past the lump in her throat, daring to reach for the hand he has curled over his knee, his fingers shaking. Hers aren’t much better, even as she gives what she hopes is a reassuring squeeze.
She wonders if this is what he feels like, when he’d tried and failed to get through to her after the war that Viren was dead and they were safe. Now they’re very decidedly not safe, Callum’s white shock eyes flashing in her mind’s eye when she lets her thoughts wonder too far, and Viren is somehow the least of their problems.
“It’ll hurt you more this way,” he continues, like she hadn’t said anything. He still won’t really look at her. “Than it would have if we were strangers—”
“You are the reason the world has peace—”
“And I might be the reason there won’t be much of a world, peace or none, aren’t I?” he snaps back, finally looking at her. Then the ire fades, his shoulders slumping. He turns his hand over to lace his fingers through hers, even if she’s the limp one now. He runs his thumb over her knuckles. “No world for you or your parents, or Ez, and I—”
Concerned for his inner circle, like always. For her. Sometimes, she thinks he’d seal all of them up in a little magical air bubble, away from the fighting, if he could, and if push came to shove.
His voice breaks. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Because he might, under Aaravos’ command. Because if she kills him, he knows she’ll never really forgive herself.
Callum has never revoked his request though—just selfish and insane enough to keep it, to put that on her shoulders. But maybe she owes him after everything she’s put him through. A way to make her live with the horror she put him through, of surviving without her, of leaving first. Maybe he believes this is her price to pay, even if the thought settles over her like ice, because no—Callum isn’t like her people. He doesn’t believe in prices. He never has.
“I don’t care if you hurt me,” she says softly. “I’m not leaving you.”
She knows she’s said the wrong thing, somehow, even if she doesn’t know how or why by the way he grouses and slips his hand out of hers.
“You should’ve killed me,” he reiterates, “before you fell in love with me.”
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