Å ħaðėş ķïð #fixourcommunity

Chat, I am actually crying. I wanted to come out to my parents but didn’t know where to start… so, like any teenager I asked ChatGPT and this was actually sad, how I never felt like anyone accepted me for me. Not being bi, just told me I was brave, someone telling me they were proud of me, its depressing to know my parents have never said they were proud and I cried when a freaking ai told me instead. ChatGPT has more empathy than my mother or father.

23 hours ago | [YT] | 1

Å ħaðėş ķïð #fixourcommunity

POV: you broke ur phone and have to use your iPad.
Luckily I post on this thing. Sooo here’s a sneak peak of what I look like cuz only one other person on the app knows what I look like
*cough* ‪@bookishstuff2362‬ *cough*

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2 days ago | [YT] | 2

Å ħaðėş ķïð #fixourcommunity

“Stolen Moments”

Chat I wrote this, you will not find it anywhere on the internet. Check if you want im not bluffing. But I didn’t read fearless yet soooo yeah.
⸻

It starts with silence.

Kai stands at the edge of the palace gardens, the moonlight washing over him in streaks of silver. The air is cold—biting, almost—but it’s not the kind of cold that bothers him. It’s the kind that burrows inside and stays there, long after the sun rises. The kind that comes from absence.

Paedyn isn’t here.

He hasn’t seen her in days. Not since the last mission. Not since she left without a word.

His fingers tighten around the pommel of his sword, the leather grip worn and familiar under his hand. He’s used to pain. To loss. But this—this is something else. Something sharp and silent, like the final note of a song that never finishes.

He hears her before he sees her.

Soft footsteps on stone. Hesitant. Careful. The way she always walks when she doesn’t want to be noticed.

He doesn’t turn around.

“You’re late,” he says, his voice low, quiet.

“I wasn’t coming,” Paedyn replies, and her voice—gods, her voice—is wind in a storm. Fragile, but fierce.

Kai turns then. Slowly. As if he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he moves too quickly. And maybe he is.

She looks the same and nothing like herself all at once. There’s something in her eyes. Guilt, maybe. Or exhaustion. Or both.

“You’re always running,” he says, stepping closer. “Why?”

She doesn’t answer. Not at first.

Then: “Because every time I stop, something breaks.”

His jaw tightens. “And do you think I haven’t broken a hundred times over for you?”

Paedyn flinches.

It’s not fair. He knows it. She’s spent her life surviving, not living. Her whole world is a lie wrapped in another lie, stitched together by desperation and defiance.

But still—he’s hurting. And it’s hers to hold.

“I’m not safe,” she whispers, more to herself than to him. “I’ll never be safe. And being with you—loving you—makes it worse.”

He closes the distance then, close enough that the warmth of her is the only thing anchoring him.

“Then let me be your danger,” he says, fiercely. “Let me be the risk you’re willing to take.”

A tear slides down her cheek, and she turns her head, ashamed.

“You don’t understand. I’m not like them. I’m not even like you. I—” She stops, breathing hard. “I don’t belong anywhere.”

Kai lifts a hand and cups her face gently, tilting her chin up.

“You belong with me.”

⸻

They fall asleep together that night in a forgotten corner of the palace. A crumbling old chamber hidden behind faded tapestries. Their secret.

For a while, it’s enough.

Stolen moments between stolen glances. Words left unspoken. Fingers brushing in hallways. The rush of a forbidden kiss.

But reality never stays away for long.

The palace is growing tense. Whispers echo in corridors. Powereds going missing. Loyalists sharpening their blades.

And the king—Kai’s father—is watching everything.

One morning, Kai wakes to find Paedyn gone. No note. No trace. Just a flower pressed into the pillow beside him: a white helianthus. The same flower she gave him the day they first kissed.

He knows what it means.

Goodbye.

⸻

Weeks pass. Then a month.

The capital shifts. Changes.

Kai goes colder. Sharper. He throws himself into training. Into the politics he once hated. Into the legacy he never asked for.

He becomes the prince they want him to be. The soldier they need.

But at night, he still dreams of her.

And every morning, he wakes with her name on his lips.

⸻

The rebellion breaks out in the outer sectors.

It’s brutal. Bloody.

The kingdom fractures beneath the weight of its own cruelty. And Kai—Kai is ordered to crush it.

He leads the army with ruthless precision. No weakness. No mercy.

Until he sees her.

She’s standing on the other side of the battlefield, dirt on her cheek, hair wild, eyes bright with fire.

Alive.

Fighting.

For the rebellion.

For herself.

For the people like her.

She meets his gaze across the smoke and screams.

And in that moment, he knows: He cannot fight this war.

Not without breaking both of them.

⸻

He finds her that night. Sneaks into the rebel camp under moonlight and madness.

She greets him with a blade to his throat.

“Kai,” she breathes.

“Paedyn.”

They stand like that for a long time. His heart hammering. Her hand trembling.

Then she drops the blade.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“And yet, here I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I never stopped loving you.”

She blinks. A tear falls.

“I thought you hated me.”

“I did. For leaving. For lying. For choosing them over me.”

“I never chose anyone over you.”

“Then why did you go?”

“Because I thought I had to.”

He steps closer. “You don’t anymore.”

Silence stretches.

Then: “There’s going to be a final attack. Soon. If we don’t win, they’ll kill us all.”

“I know.”

“Are you going to stop me?”

“No.”

“What, then?”

“I’m going to help you win.”

⸻

They return to the palace not as lovers, not as enemies, but as something in between. A broken bridge slowly being rebuilt.

Kai plays his role. Distracts. Delays.

Paedyn moves through the shadows. Gathering allies. Spreading truth.

When the final strike comes, it is not with a roar, but a whisper.

A signal. A spark.

And then the fire burns.

⸻

In the chaos, Kai is stabbed.

A loyalist’s blade. Meant for Paedyn. Meant to end everything.

He takes it instead.

Falls to the ground in her arms, blood staining his tunic, his mouth, her hands.

“Kai, no—please—”

His eyes flutter. “Still…your danger.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say goodbye.”

“Never goodbye. Just… see you soon.”

His hand slips from hers.

She screams.

⸻

He survives.

Barely.

Wakes three days later to the sound of birdsong and the sight of her asleep beside his bed, her hand in his.

She jerks awake when he stirs.

“Kai—?”

He smiles, weakly. “See? Told you.”

She sobs, laughing through the tears. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

And she doesn’t.

She never could.

⸻

The kingdom changes.

Slowly. Painfully.

But it does.

The rebellion doesn’t win everything. But they win enough.

Enough to breathe. Enough to hope.

Kai renounces the crown. Walks away from the legacy that nearly killed him.

Paedyn walks beside him.

Not as a shadow. Not as a secret.

But as his equal.

They leave the capital with nothing but each other and a map full of blank spaces.

A new world to find.

A new life to build.

Together.

⸻

Years later, in a village by the sea, a child runs through the waves, laughter like windchimes. Two figures sit on the shore—one with silver in his dark hair, the other with sun in her eyes.

“You think we made the right choice?” she asks.

He watches the child play. Then turns to her, fingers brushing hers.

“I know we did.”

And in the silence that follows, there is no cold.

Only warmth.

And love.

And the freedom they fought so hard to find.

⸻

THE END
(Word count: ~1,510 (thank you google docs) ‪@Google‬

3 days ago (edited) | [YT] | 4

Å ħaðėş ķïð #fixourcommunity

Chat, I am super duper delulu and wrote this instead of doing hw ‪@cjj_edvts‬ is the only person on here whom I know reads the folk of the air.

The Crown and the Mortal

The moonlight spilled silver across the floor of the High King’s private chambers, catching in the gold of Cardan’s crown where it lay discarded beside a half-drunk goblet of faerie wine. Jude Duarte stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes sharp. She didn’t knock. She never had to anymore.

Cardan looked up from his desk, his ink-stained fingers paused over parchment. “Jude,” he said with that familiar smile — half mischief, half challenge. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Come to threaten me into better politics again?”

“I’d rather stab you into better politics,” she replied, walking in with that predator’s grace he adored. Her leathers whispered as she moved. Her sword was at her hip, though they both knew she wouldn’t need it tonight. Not for threats. Not for protection.

He leaned back in his chair, the collar of his nightshirt half-undone, exposing a collarbone Jude knew far too well for someone who’d once plotted his downfall. “You wound me.”

“You wound me all the time,” she said dryly, but her voice lacked venom. “Not everyone’s idea of romance is betrayal and political schemes.”

“No?” Cardan tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Then why are you still here?”

Jude’s breath caught, because it was a fair question. She, who once longed for power enough to deceive and manipulate, was now bound to the throne not just by her ambition but by her heart. Cardan had become something more than the boy who once mocked her at court. He was hers now — dangerous, beautiful, and maddeningly real.

And she was his.

“Because I love you,” she said simply.

Cardan blinked.

Jude Duarte did not say those words often. Not even now, after everything.

“I know,” he said softly. “I just like hearing it.”

He stood and came toward her, his steps slow, deliberate, like a fox closing in on a curious human who’d wandered too close to the forest edge. His hand reached for hers, tentative but sure, and when their fingers touched, it felt like a promise renewed.

“I thought I’d ruined everything the day I exiled you,” he murmured.

“You did,” Jude replied, arching an eyebrow.

Cardan’s lips curved. “And yet here you are.”

“You kissed me in the throne room,” she reminded him, voice quieter now. “In front of everyone.”

“I rather thought you liked dramatic gestures,” he said.

“I like it better when it’s just us.” Her hand slid to his cheek, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “When you’re not performing.”

Cardan closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “And what am I doing now?”

“Being honest,” Jude whispered. “And I think I’m falling in love with that part of you, too.”

The silence that followed was not awkward. It was full — heavy with emotion neither of them had ever been trained to handle. Raised in war and courtly cruelty, neither Cardan nor Jude knew how to be soft. But they were learning, together, how to be something gentler in the quiet moments between battles and bargains.

He kissed her then — not with the wild urgency of their first real kiss, but with reverence. His hands cradled her face, his lips lingering on hers like he was memorizing her taste. When they broke apart, his forehead rested against hers.

“I hate that I need you,” Jude said, her voice thick. “I hate that you make me feel like this.”

“I know,” he said with a small, amused sigh. “You’re terrible at needing people. But I don’t mind. I rather like being the exception.”

She shoved him playfully, and he caught her by the wrist, spinning her into him with effortless grace. They were dancing now, with no music but the rhythm of their breaths and the beat of their hearts. Jude laughed — a sound she rarely let herself give.

“Admit it,” Cardan said as they swayed. “You enjoy being Queen of Elfhame.”

“I enjoy not having to kill my husband to rule it,” she shot back.

He grinned, sharp and dangerous. “Wouldn’t you miss me?”

“Desperately,” she said, and this time, there was no sarcasm.

Their lips met again, and the kiss deepened, drawing out all the words they never quite managed to say aloud. Passion and power, vulnerability and vicious love — it was all there, in the way their hands roamed, in the way Cardan whispered her name like a spell.

When they parted, breathless, Cardan stared at her as if she were something sacred.

“You should sleep,” Jude said, glancing toward the moonlit bed. “You’ve got a council meeting in the morning.”

“Stay,” he said. “Sleep beside me.”

She hesitated. She always did. Love was a battlefield more treacherous than any mortal sword fight. But then she nodded, loosening the straps on her leather armor, letting it fall piece by piece until she stood in her tunic, barefoot, mortal in a faerie king’s arms.

They curled beneath the silken sheets, her head resting on his chest, his hand drawing idle patterns on her back.

“I don’t know how to be normal,” she murmured into the hush.

“Good,” he replied. “Normal is overrated.”

They fell asleep like that — the mortal and the High King, tangled together in a mess of scars and secrets, thorns and devotion. Tomorrow, they would be ruthless again. They would rule, scheme, and protect their crown.

But tonight, they were just Cardan and Jude.

And that was enough.

3 days ago | [YT] | 3

Å ħaðėş ķïð #fixourcommunity

Chat did my feed run out or smth?

5 days ago | [YT] | 2

Å ħaðėş ķïð #fixourcommunity

Guys, I wanted to do the ‘your name and what pjo cabin it belongs in (my opinion)’ trend, sooo just put down ur name or a name you want me to do

1 week ago | [YT] | 2