#::M!A - Sleeping Death::

[anna-scribbles]

h-how do you ever finish any of your work? genuine question because you seem to be productive despite your agreste syndrome and I need to learn your ways. but also how do you ever finish any of your work

unclear. last night i stayed up and finished a report worth 25% of my grade at about 5am, arrived on time for my 9am lecture, and spent about half of it zoned out while thinking about seventeen year old emilie agreste. and i was one of the most active participants in the class discussion

[fisheito]

love a good yoinkin

[ai-the-broccoli]

honestly it's funny how Light is in-universe conventionally attractive in a way that loops back to being an acquired taste in fandom (in comparison to L, that is)

[cowboysnz]

i’m still here didn’t die or anything i’ve just been sick for like the past week and i *think* i’m finally getting over it 🤞🏻 main thing rn is that i keep coughing/have a headache/and i have the first proper earache i’ve ever had in my life so… there’s that. anyway i should be better soon and i can finish with those fics i haven’t forgotten i promise i’ve just felt like shit 🙂

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 15: Childhood Trauma

Moment of Clarity

1649 Words; Runaways AU, pre-canon

TW for mentions of death

AO3 ver

Cole was sketching again.

He did it every so often, though he’d never let Lloyd see his sketchbook, despite Lloyd’s best puppy dog eyes. But that was fine—Lloyd knew where Cole put the sketchbook in his bag, and had already gone through it once. It was more about the principle of the thing, really—if Cole willingly let Lloyd look, then he probably wasn’t about to abandon Lloyd.

But Cole had refused to show off the sketchbook tonight, so Lloyd had subsided into watching the firewood slowly burn to ash. His sleeping bag was still rolled up behind him; Cole was sitting cross-legged on his. It was probably fine, though; Cole had shown no inclination to ditching Lloyd. Yet.

But it was important to keep track of, Lloyd knew. He wasn’t stupid, okay? He knew he was difficult. And he knew that being the son of an evil warlord tended to put most people off. He was loud and disruptive and had too-red eyes and little bumps on his head just barely hidden by his hair. Lloyd knew that he was easy to abandon and run away from, because everyone in his life had done it at some point. His own mother hadn’t even wanted him!

Speaking of…

“Why are you out on your own, anyway?” Lloyd asked. He had technically asked a question kind of like it, when he and Cole had initially met, and Cole’s response at the time had been a simple “none of your business.” But they’d known each other a while, now, and Cole seemed intent on keeping his promise—though Lloyd couldn’t fully trust that, not now, not ever—so maybe… Cole might open up?

Lloyd was horribly curious—it was something of a curse. And he had found an old school ID when he looked at Cole’s sketchbook, though it was wayyy different from the ones Darkley’s used and not a name Lloyd recognized.

Cole hmmed, shoulders hunching as he focused in on the page before him. “Ran away.” He grunted. Lloyd waited a moment longer for Cole to elaborate, but he didn’t.

So Lloyd opened his own mouth. “Was it from that school? The uh…” What was the name again? “Marty Oppen… Open…. that school?”

Cole was looking at Lloyd now, something like suspicion in his eyes and red on his cheeks. “How do you know about—” He cut himself off with a huff. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter.”

“So you did!” Lloyd concluded, pleased. “Was it a boarding school? Was it bigger than Darkley’s? How mean were the teachers? What were they teaching?” He imagined Cole in a classroom much like the science lab at Darkley’s, an evil death ray on the table before him. Just as quickly as it came, the image went away—Lloyd had seen Cole’s drawings. Death ray designs just didn’t fit him.

Cole blinked owlishly at the onslaught of questions. “Uh… yes; I don’t know, I’ve never been to Darkley’s; maybe? They were really stuffy, and—” His shoulders drew in again, expression shifty. “I’m not answering that last question.”

“What!” Lloyd gasped, laying down on the dirt and propping his face up on his hands. “But you gotta! I mean,” he added, as convincingly as he could, “You know what Darkley’s teaches, so why can’t I know what Marty Open-hemmer’s teaches? It’s only fair.”

“I’ll tell you the moment you can say the name right.” Cole promised, though it sounded an awful lot like a joke.

“How is it said?” Lloyd probed, folding his arms and resting his chin on them. From down here, with the fire between them to the side, Cole looked almost unreal, the flickering light dancing across his face.

“Ma—” Cole started, only to stop as he realized. “You’re not getting me that easy, you little shit.”

“It was worth a try.” Lloyd shrugged, lightly kicking the dirt.

Silence filled their little camp, the fire and the gentle scritch-scratch of Cole’s pencil the only real sound.

Lloyd rolled over, staring up at the darkened sky above, at the tiny embers rising from the fire, at the twinkling stars and the clouds that covered them. It was a half moon tonight. He had no idea how Cole was drawing with just the light from the fire—which probably explained all the little frustrated noises Cole was making.

Something else occurred to Lloyd. Something Cole did at—well, not every town, but often enough to be just another part of their routine. Lloyd sat up, looked at Cole, and spoke.

“Who are you sending those letters to?” Lloyd folded his knees in to rest his chin on them as he watched Cole put his sketchbook away.

Cole jolted, staring at Lloyd for a moment. His jaw worked as he considered Lloyd’s question, several emotions Lloyd wasn’t sure how to parse flitting across his face. “My dad.” He said, softly.

“Oh.” Lloyd’s own father hadn’t really… from what Lloyd knew, nobody had actually seen Lord Garmadon for years. His father had sent his shadow to visit Lloyd at Darkley’s, on rare occasion, but Lloyd otherwise hadn’t met his dad. “Do you and your dad… get along?”

Cole made a sound halfway between an amused snort and annoyed sigh. “He doesn’t know where I am.” He admitted, which wasn’t really an answer. “He doesn’t know I’m running around with the world’s most annoying gremlin—” He cut himself off. “He thinks I’m still at Mar—that school.”

That… Lloyd thought back to his own parents. His own dad probably didn’t know he wasn’t at Darkley’s anymore—he hadn’t sent his shadow to visit Lloyd at all. And his mother…

Well, at least Cole knew what his father thought of him.

“What about your mom?” Lloyd asked, suddenly not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

Cole looked stricken, for a moment, before his expression turned thunderous. He glared at the fire, mouth drawn back in what might have been a snarl or what might have been a grimace. “She’s…” He swallowed. “She died less than a year ago.”

“Oh.” Lloyd cringed against his knees. “Sorry.” He hadn’t meant to upset Cole—

“‘S not your fault.” Cole muttered, voice tired. He laid back, staring up at the sky.

“Is that why your dad doesn’t know where you are?” Lloyd asked, then immediately cringed because why was he still talking, didn’t he know how to shut up—

Cole laughed, harsh and grim. “Ohhhh, don’t get me started! Mom’s gone, and all he ever does is go out and sing and dance and it falls to me to be responsible for everything, because first master forbid he stick around to tend to the garden or wash the dishes or do the laundry or—” He cut himself off, throwing his arm over his face as he made a drawn out sort of groan, sounding so shaky compared to usual. “And then he packs me up and sends me off to go to school and follow in his footsteps, like he wasn’t already pushing me hard enough—I don’t want to sing or dance! I’m never going to be what you want me to be!”

Lloyd shrunk back a bit. That was… a lot. Like, more than he felt able to unpack. But, wait—

“Sing or dance?” Lloyd asked, suddenly struck with a strong suspicion as to what that Marty school was for. “Is that what you went to Marty’s for?” He grinned, a giggle in his voice as he tried to imagine what that’d even look like.

“Shut up.” Cole groused, which only made Lloyd actually giggle. Cole groaned his annoyance to the sky, and Lloyd hid his mouth behind his hands as he imagined Cole in a tutu.

Cole sat up so suddenly that Lloyd squeaked, his laughter dissolving into worry. But Cole didn’t move any further, instead fixing Lloyd with a peculiar stare that was almost uncomfortable in its intensity.

“You don’t have to follow in your dad’s footsteps. You know that, right?” He asked, and Lloyd found, not for the first, third, or sixth time, that Cole could still say things that absolutely boggled him. “Everyone that treats you like shit because of your dad, but they’re wrong.” Cole said it with such conviction—it was almost enough for Lloyd to believe it.

“You’re not your dad.” Cole added. “You’re you.” His piece said, he laid back down, kicking dirt onto the fire and shuffling so that he was actually in his sleeping bag instead of on top of it.

Lloyd frowned. Well, he knew he was an awful warlord—he’d known it since before Darkley’s kicked him out for being a failure at evil. So it wasn’t like he would’ve been able to follow in his father’s footsteps anyway.

But the rest of Cole’s words… all his life, Lloyd had been defined by his father. His mother had left him at Darkley’s, where Lloyd’s parentage had been all that anyone cared about. His teachers had higher expectations for him, and were all the more disappointed when Lloyd couldn’t meet them. And when he and Cole asked around for someone who could take him in, it was his too-red eyes and too-sharp teeth and too-warlordy last name that made everyone close their doors in his face.

Lloyd huffed. Suuure, Cole could just run away and escape being what his father wanted, could become just another nameless kid wandering Ninjago, but Lloyd?

Lloyd grumbled as he grabbed at his sleeping bag to unfold it for the night. Nobody would see him as anything more than Lord Garmadon’s obnoxious son. Nobody but Cole, who Lloyd still wasn’t totally convinced didn’t hate him at least a little.

Lloyd Garmadon would always be tied to Lord Garmadon, but could never be anywhere half as great—or notorious. What Cole said was a nice sentiment, but it just wasn’t true. Not in the way Cole meant it.

Lloyd would never be out of his father’s shadow.

[nyupuun]

"continuation" of this post

[ladyofmelk]

gave a presentation on the master and margarita and im preparing for an exam on marlowe's faustus so obviously my christmas present to myself was mann's faustus. yknow. for a change

[walkinroadkillz]

It's late and I need to get up early tomorrow but I wanted to post this todayyy 😔 especially after the break I was on

@mazerunner-rarepairs

Free space: kissing challange <3

One frame is a bit suggestive<3 -🦡

Pre editing 😌

[stormyoceans]

my head hurts from crying for the past twenty minutes but it's not because of pain. i don't think i will ever be coherent enough to properly explain my feelings but to me this scene wasn't heartbreaking. it was hope and love in their purest form. hope because day's life doesn't end when his eyesight is gone: day is no longer angry because he has learned that he can still experience the world and live a happy life and find meaning in both. love because mork, who could no more save his sister's life than stop day from losing his sight, is being held in the hands of the man he loves and being told 'someone like you is enough': enough to be day's last twilight, last picture, last love. of course there was loss in it, but so much beauty too. these two men who used to be invisible and alone and locked away in the darkness found each other, chose each other, and stepped into the light, together. and that's where they will always be from now on: in each other's light, where they'll never fade away again

[c-infinity-83]

ineed jimmy to die immediately.

[vamprlestat]

rip carmilla i just know she would have loved sleep token

[alastors-radioshow]

A day.

A day without a single movement. Without a single breath. Not even a muscle spasm.

A day full of panic and sorrow. But he didn't know that. Not yet, at least.

The sound of a sharp inhale could be heard. Similar to coming up to the surface for air. A breath one needed to live.

To survive.

Heavy static laced the air, crackling and popping as if one had just turned on an old radio, attempting to find the right station. Searching for the right frequency.

A slight twitch of an eye. A low, almost inaudible groan. Smaller signs of life.

Life.

Brows furrowed, eyelids pressed shut firmly as he slowly regained consciousness. His head felt heavy. His entire body felt like a ton of bricks. The room was absolutely spinning, his stomach turning.

He felt as if he was about to vomit.

A sharp gasp left pale lips as he slowly opened his eyes, crimson orbs framed by those long, black lashes watering instantly by the sudden intrusion of light, causing tears to slowly trickle down his cheeks.

He had a myriad of questions cluttering his foggy mind, trying to gain some sense of what had happened as his body slowly regained mobility.

What had happened?

Why did it happen?

Why was there so much sorrow in the air?

He had countless questions he was dying to ask.

He was confused. He knew that he had been forced to drink some.. Potion.. His hand had been forced. He couldn't stop it, even if he had tried.

He had tried.

All he knew was that he had blacked out.

But he didn't know for how long.

[symbieote]

I need to tell someone about the new OCS that I'm gestating right now or I WILL be physically ill...

[karmaecoadventure]

Rainbow Valley is the area below the summit of Mount Everest, typically referenced on the Northeast Ridge route (North side), located within the "death zone" above 8,000 meters (26,000 ft).

[prehistoric-android]

Being a bug is tiring work. Beddy bye now.

[rafeovermorals]

overstimulating joel until he cums. again.

content: oral (m receiving), joel is 61 and has a hard time keeping up with his much younger girlfriends sex drive, use of daddy, slight dubcon

a/n: this is how im choosing to cope with this scene, okay? i can’t help that he looks hot as fuck.

joel was too worn out to move.

chest heaving, mouth quivering, all he could do was lay there and watch you take from him.

you were such a greedy lil’ thing, one round was never enough. so eager and needy. always wanting more, like you wouldn’t last a day without his cock.

he kept up with you as best as he could for a man his age, making sure to stay in shape so he that maintained his stamina, but it only got him so far.

it was a guilty reminder— he was old. you were young. nothin’ he could change about that. he already ran through the small supply of viagra he was able to get ahold of weeks ago, which left him at your mercy.

even after a long day of patrol he came home and fucked you every night, just like you wanted. what was left of his energy he thrusted deep into your cunt with his seed to prove it, giving you a kiss on the cheek before pulling out and turning onto his back to go to sleep.

it had been a while since you went down on him. he didn’t have much control on when or how often he got hard, so when he was he used those moments inside of you.

except joel didn’t realize how much you missed him in your mouth, so badly that you needed it.

as he rolled off of you to his side of the bed, you noticed how his cock was flushed— coated with your juices and his cum. he was softening but stayed big, thick in girth with graying hairs at the base.

he didn’t have the chance to recover before you had his cock in your hand, sitting on your knees and holding him straight as you licked the shaft.

“baby… what’re y’doin?” he asked timidly, still attempting to control his breaths from cumming just a minute or two prior. you simply responded with a hum, looking up at him through your lashes as you swirled your tongue— tasting yourself on him.

you placed a kiss on his tip, his cock reacting with a throb that pulsed in your grasp. “alright, that’s enough.” he spoke low, a quavering warning for you to stop— but his tone lacked in confidence.

“let me have this, daddy.” as if he had a choice.

you took him into your mouth, lips curling around his cock as you watched his face twist from the sensation.

fucking hell, you were going to be the death of him.

he clenched his jaw, teeth grinding while he tried to hold himself back— hold you back. he pushed at your head, attempting to shove you with what little control he had left, but you didn’t budge. you only went further, inching his cock deeper down your throat. he was forced into submission.

joel was so sensitive that he whined from the mix of pain and pleasure, the line blurring the more you swallowed him. “i don’t have anythin’ left in me, honey... gave you of it already.” he told you slow, his voice trembling.

you moaned in defiance, mouth stuffed full of his length. you brought a free hand to his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze which made him nearly whimper. you pull away, spit dribbling from the corners of your lip. “can feel that you still got some in here, just gotta get it out, daddy. it’ll feel so much better.”

he clenched his jaw, teeth grinding together as you continued to suck him— bobbing at a teasing speed while you massaged the rest of his length at the same time. he twitched his hips, his body defying his words.

it felt so good that it was hurting him. your throat was beginning to burn due to lack of recent experience, but you were determined for it.

“just couldn’t wait, huh? so cock drunk that y’had to use your old man like this, knowin’ im vulnerable?” you nodded, that familiar ache in your core returning.

he was thinking of all the ways to punish you once you were done— ready to spank you until you cried, maybe edge you if he was feeling mean. he would find a way to make you pay.

joel was determined to give you one more load since you went through all of this to get it. he couldn’t disappoint his girl.

he was so numb that he couldn’t even feel himself getting ready to cum, his eyes glossy and in a state of haze at the sight of you drooling on his thighs.

the warm, soft flesh of your cheeks hollowing in on him brought him to his release, spilling hot, creamy ropes on the pad of your tongue. whenever you thought he was done it didn’t stop— drops still leaking out after you finished.

“better lick me dry honey. since you wanted it so damn bad.”