reading the fae au has my daddy issues REELING-
i dunno do i want to be held and comforted by one of them or fucked dumb😭🙏
could you maybe do some like paternal/father figurey stuff with any fae boy you want… cant prove the stereotype daddy issues right guys please im more than wanting old me to make me worse…
As previously stated I asked my friend for help writing the original fae!Price post. Gave me the main pointers on how it all worked.
Do you want more actual dad stuff with Ghost and baby? Or is this just wanting older men to be nice to you?
I'm just gonna have Price run some aftercare on his Witch.
You're still a little floaty, still fuzzy at the edges from having your own magic turned against you. You hear Price opening a window to let the smoke out, and you feel sort of cold without him holding onto you. Your whole body aches like you just finished working an overly complicated spell. You turn your head to rub your cheek against the couch, the worn fabric just rough enough against your skin to start to ground you back in your body.
You've done this enough times. Grounding. You stretch your fingers out and- oh, hm. Your hands are still tied behind your back. That explains the ache in your shoulders. Right. Right, you remember. You were bad at following orders, so Price had to- Why does that thought make your heart hurt a little. A small noise escapes you, somewhere between upset and need.
Price is by you in an instant, crouching to be sure he can look in your eyes as he slips his hand under your cheek to hold your face. "You're alright sweetheart," He tells you softly, "we're done, you did good."
You roll your shoulders wordlessly, your throat hurts, he nods and pushes up to reach over you and untie your wrists. You sag with a sigh feeling the pressure around your wrists disappear. Price reappears, looking over your face, checking for signs of distress. The gentle touches are so far flung from the bruising grip he'd had on you not long ago.
"You ok to sit up?" He asks, and you nod, "Good girl, up we go." Price helps you ease into sitting, his hand pressing between your shoulders to take some of the weight from the movement. Your head spins a little, and you make another upset noise at the pain of it. "I know, sugar, I know." His arm slides under your knees, the other wrapping around your shoulders.
You haven't been lifted in years, but your brain is a little sluggish in processing the soft grunt from Price before you're no longer on the couch. You rest your head against his shoulder, ground yourself a little in his scent. Or you try to, but the lingering tobacco and morning glory give you another shot of the brain fuzzies.
You drift for a while, settled at some point on the edge of your tub. The rush of water and smell of sachet herbs doing little to pull you back to earth until you are actually submerged. Magic sloughs off of you as you sink under the warm water. You hold your breath and stare up at Price through the refraction.
When you pull yourself back up to oxygen you feel like you're in your body again. At least magically. Price's hands catch your shoulders before you can tip forward back into the water. "Easy sweetheart," He tells you, his hands are rough and calloused, another feeling to ground with. You take a deep breath, trying to pull yourself from the non-magical portion of this. The soft dreamy space you'd settled in, the need to please him with little care to your own needs. "Not in a rush," Price presses your shoulders back against the end of the tub, "Just breathe, I'm not going anywhere," You close your eyes, rest your cotton stuffed head against the edge of the tub, "You did so good, I'm so proud of you."
You don't really know why he's telling you that, but it helps. Makes your ribs unwind a little. He pulls one of your hands from the water and digs his fingers into your palm, dragging and rubbing the ache from your hand before moving up to your wrist. Price pulls the pain out of your limbs as easily as he pulled the thoughts from your head, whispering soft sweet things to you until you're starting to doze.
"All mine," He murmurs, pressing his lips against the pulse in your wrist. You hum assent. All his.
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Hiii, i love your stuff and kinda from a distance really look up at you for, in my perception, being able to express yourself without giving a fuck. Thats sick dude, Im so so afraid, of absolutely everything, its nice to think like i might grow into someone less apologetic of my existence. Nice to see people just being yknow
hey, thank you, this is really really nice. the secret that is probably not a secret is that i am also deeply afraid a lot of the time lmao -- but less than i used to be, and in ways that feel less stifling and self-suffocating, if that makes sense.
like, it used to be "i'm scared that if i express myself the way i want to, everyone will find me obnoxious, so let's just sand those edges down to be safe" -- now my fears are more like "now that i'm expressing myself in a way that feels natural and real, i'm afraid that it's all stupid/vapid/not worthwhile or meaningful" (<- specifically abt my art) or "i'm happy that i talk and act the way i want to now, but what if it makes me impossible to befriend," etc etc etc. which still feels bad and puts me in a funk a lot of the time but at least it's a fear that comes After/in reaction to doing stuff, rather than a fear that STOPS me from doing stuff, you know? like, it's evolved into a kind of fear that's less in my way.
anyway. i believe you'll experience something like this, because wanting to grow is the first step of growing. the fact that u hope or wish for something different means you're already on your way. to fewer fucks!! or at least distributing the fucks u give in a way that serves u better
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You know, when you realize how - being a prince growing up sheltered at court and all - it’s highly unlikely that Radovid’s parents would ever have told him something along the lines of:
“No, son. You must learn to stop staring at boys like they’re a snack that you’d gladly wish you could swallow whole. That could make them feel uncomfortable and like they are being objectified. I know we condescendingly call everyone that’s "not us" our "subjects", but they are full-fledged individuals, and not something for you to play with. So, please, try keeping your interest in them more subtle.”
His intuitive, genuine response to meeting Jaskier for the first time makes even more sense!
And look, now that I think about it, it's not really surprising that he didn't mind if things got a bit cold and humid on that cabin’s floor! As long as the food was phenomenal, he felt right at home!
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Thinking about pastel goth Hazel and then remembering there's other goth subcultures and I'm doing a quick search bc im not v familiar w/ them but from a few glances of the different fashions:
Hazel: Pastel goth/Gothic lolita
Nico: Emo goth
Bianca: Mall goth
Macaria: Pin-Up goth
Melinoe: Nu-goth
Zagreus: Glam goth
Hades: All his clothes are just black or dark-coloured, what the fuck is an "aesthetic"/Corporate goth (for meetings. Or to make his nephew realize he's bisexual)
There's a lot of subcultures and I am not good with fashion and trying to find examples (especially for men's looks) of the various subcultures was. hard, but I think it's pretty good rep of my various headcanons on how they dress!
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