#I am also so stubborn about inducing

[sneezarify]

If you're in the mood to reveal: what's something sexy you've done lately that involved your sneezes?

I'm looking forward to just melting when I read the answer. :)

I was contemplating if I wanted to answer this, so sorry for the slow reply. Turns out today I thought fuck it!

I have two things:

I was masturbating recently and needed to sneeze. I sneezed a wet sneeze into my hand and then put that same hand back down my pants. The wetness made it feel so much better😅😳

I was having one of those days where my nose just doesn’t stop itching. I have NO idea why… but it was tickly all day long. At one point laying in bed, I kept feeling the urge to sneeze, building up, hitching and then nothing. After 5 or more itchy false starts I’m starting to feel incredibly turned on… I desperately want to get these sneezes out naturally, but I also just want to induce and sneeze myself into oblivion. I resist the urge to induce and instead just start to touch myself. Now I’m a horny, hitchy, itchy MESS! Rubbing myself, my nose, hitching, false starting …. And basically getting more and more wound up. I do eventually sneeze which feels amazing of course. Fill in the blanks for the rest I guess.

[karlachismylife]

Thots on how they would react if you got sick?

(totally not self indulgent right now)

Oh no, my lovely spouse is sick :( Get well soon, lovie, and here are some little speedrun headcanons for you ahead of everything, as a treatment!! Beware, there are some NSFW parts under the cut :) So MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT I swear I get so upset every time I have to block some ageless blog. If it's so hard to put your age in the bio, just DO NOT TOUCH THE POST!! I'd rather keep you around to read my SFW pieces than block you altogether.

Okay sorry for yelling, here we go

CW: gn!sick!reader, reader is somewhat being stubborn about getting treatment at some points, sickness unspecified, but I wrote with something cold-adjacent in mind since we're in the cold season, a bit of controlling behavior from Ghost and Price.

Soap is Mister Indulgence. Any cravings you get, be it three kilograms of crisps for breakfast or his Mam's soup you suddenly want to taste at 2 am, he's getting his ass out of bed and runs to the store or puts on an apron to make the soup. You want some tea with sugar and lemon? How much teaspoons of sugar? What, you tried it and turned out you wanted a teaspoon less? No worries, he'll make it again. You wanna binge your favourite show? Listen to "your" song fifty times in a row? Cuddle and nap on his hot chest for eight hours? Whatever you want, bonnie, his Maw always said that good mood is the most important step in getting better, so Johnny would rather die than not keep you satisfied during sick time.

He might not be the most well-versed in medical stuff, but he definitely uses his Mam's knowledge (and she is one wise woman, I tell you) and whatever experience he has himself to get you both real treatment and some homemade remedies. Swears he doesn't get sick (ever, bonnie!) when you try to shoo him away worried he'll catch whatever you have.

Drops sick the very next day you finally are all good again (and behaves as if he's actually dying, even though he has like three times lighter symptoms than you cuz that man has an immune system of a beast).

Ghost is mean about it, cruel and ruthless. At least that's what you tell him when he wakes you up to make you drink some medicine or, even worse, change you out of your sweaty pjs, help you bathe and (this one is almost breakup-worthy betrayal) take you to a doctor. No amount of pleading, whining and pouting can deter him from making sure you're getting appropriate treatment.

Truth be told, he's probably blaming himself, because under his care you should've never gotten sick in the first place. This means he's probably checking your wardrobe and adding some warmer clothes and shoes (no more wearing old sneakers when it's already rain season!) to it, probably inspecting all the food you've eaten recently in case it was bad, proofing all the windows against drafts... and somehow he still finds time to be around you all the time, holding you in your fever-induced sleep, changing cold wet towels on your forehead and caring for you.

Might or might not catch the sickness from you, which reveals that he's an even worse patient than you, constantly grumpy, wrapped in three blankets and trying to put an indifferent face, but so, so pathetic when the fever gets actually high. He will be good if you promise to hold him in your lap and stroke his hair with cold fingers.

Gaz isn't as indulgent as Soap, but he gives you a lot of autonomy and trusts that you know best what treatment helps you. So if you say you don't feel like you need to call a doctor, he won't force you; he'll buy the medicine you tell him to buy, and if he thinks it's not the best choice, he'll just suggest an alternative, leaving the final decision up to you. Also has some homemade remedies ready to go if you're willing to try them, but leans heavily towards scientifically proven treatments.

He definitely tries to keep you if not active (no hikes or something, but maybe little walks around the apartment once the worst wave passes) then at least entertained, and not in "200 episodes of a dumb sitcom watched alone" way. Of course, if that's what you're feeling, get your sitcom fill, angel (he's not one to judge, he is keeping up with like a hundred series somehow), but if you're up to play some games, Kyle is more than happy to. Puzzles, card games, board games - maybe not so much computer games, since he wants you to be mindful of your eyes health, but a little bit? Sure. If you don't wanna play games, he still wants to keep you company so that you don't feel like you're missing out on life alone in your bed.

Probably the one who is the least likely to catch your sickness, because he ACTUALLY never gets sick, that pretty boy possesses some magic, I'm telling ya. Buf if he somehow does, he's the best patient who doesn't even need your help (but will accept it since he doesn't want you to feel guilty and it's just nice). For the three days that he's sick before he's healthier than ever.

Price is also very insistent on you getting proper treatment, but he doesn't go about it in Ghost's stern manner - no, he's a sly, smart dog, he's sweettalking you into thinking half of it is your own idea and he's just there to provide. If he needs to, he plays up his worried behavior and voila, you're already taking your medicine and days off from studies or work, simply because you don't want to worry your John's bleeding heart. Drops casually something like "good thing doc's office is on the way to the base, I can drop you off before finishing that bloody report they're wanting my head for and then pick you up, lovie" - and when you note that you actually don't feel like your sickness is doctor visit worthy, he sighs and tells you that he'll stay with you then. Of course now you have to agree, you can't let him get in trouble with the report simply because you didn't want to go to the doctor!

In all the other aspects he is absolutely doting and spoiling. Will casually look through fifteen stores until he finds the exact type of natural juice gummies you once mentioned your parents got you when you were sick. Absolutely no smoking around you or even in the apartment - and he also makes sure he doesn't smell too much of tobacco before coming into your room. Will baby you in whatever way you want (yes, he will read you your book aloud) or simply stay at your side to assist you with different things if you're not into that. But god forbid you try to get back to work or studying before John Price deems you recovered enough...

Probably catches the sickness, but pretends he didn't until it's too obvious to deny. Will do all the things he reprimanded you for: try to work, keep smoking, avoid doctor etc.

Hyena!141 bonus: they absolutely cuddle you in their hyena form and do not shift into humans when you need them to fetch something like a pillow or more paper tissues. They're your fluffy cuddle buddies that are there to grumble and purr for you soothingly, keep the chills away and lick your forehead, nape and wrists to cool the fever down. Shove their snouts in different places on your body to check the temperature (no thermometer needed!) and tickle you, give you paw massages if your muscles ache and suddenly get on their best behavior (yes, even Soap). Furry menaces who? Not them, they're the sweetest boys!

NSFW under the cut, once again, minors and ageless blogs DNI or I'll block you (and cry about it!)

CW: gn!reader, oral sex, fingering, brat tamer Ghost (so it's consensual in case I didn't make it clear enough), penetrative sex with Gaz (bottom!gn!reader).

Soap is also number one advocate of "sex is proper treatment", so if you're not feeling too bad and have some energy to spare, he'll gladly eat you out and unleash his oral fixation on you. As treatment, of course. Also maybe because you're so hot that you're practically burning his tongue and it feels as if he dipped his face into the sweetest, freshly-baked pie, when you squeeze his mug between your overheating thighs. He'll do more if that's what you want, but if all you want is to come on his face, he'll lick, suck and rub as much as you need - yes, he spilled in his sweatpants just from pleasuring you and grinding against the sheets, but can you really blame him for enjoying a warm meal a little too much? Will probably compare your "sick" taste to your "healthy" one. No, he does not know what the word "shame" means.

Ghost is reluctant to have sex when you're sick, because, well... you're sick, you shouldn't exhaust your body, because it needs all the strength to fight whatever it is you caught. But once you start getting better (and as a result much, much brattier, since now you have the energy to not just whine and pout, but also to be a little defiant shit), he is absolutely using his fingers to reward or punish you for complying or resisting the treatment. Are you being good, taking your medicine, measuring your body temperature and doing whatever else doctor told you to? Good, you deserve to cum on his fingers, lovie, just lean back and let him do all the work. What's that, you don't wanna drink your medicine, because it tastes bad, and you hid the thermometer? Well, love, he hopes you don't mind getting your temperature checked a little more old-fashioned way. And if you don't like your medicine, maybe having his fingers in your mouth, muffling all your protests, will change your mind. After all, that's what you wanted to achieve by being a brat, didn't you?

Gaz is already the king of gentle sex, but if you ask him to indulge you while you're sick, he'll be as tender as only molten marshmallow fluff can be. Caressing your feverish skin with his soft palms, making sure to avoid possibly hurting joints or muscles, going down on you with his sweet, honeyed mouth before even trying anything else. Can actually give you a perfect massage (even the normal kind) and add some lightweight petting and fingering to it. If you want to have penetrative sex though, he finds the best position (probably spooning, his arm cradling your head so it doesn't spin or hurt, and your body resting without any extreme stretches or strains) and takes you slowly and carefully. Doesn't let you worry about his orgasm at all, but if you feel like cockwarming him, he won't say no, that's for sure :) let him soak in some of that heat directly from you, angel, eh?

Price will probably need the most persuasion to engage with you sexually during your sick time, he is worrying about you too much, so the best you can get is probably his fingers and mouth closer to you already getting fully healthy again. He's just scared he'll go too rough on you regardless of how careful he's trying to be, lovie. But if he ends up catching you masturbating (and failing probably, since you're still too weak for such activities), he'll have no choice but to help you finish, careful tongue strokes and finger movements along with soft grumbling about him "leaving you just for five minutes, and you're already up to no good, love!" Don't let him fool you, he's the happiest man, because he both gets to pleasure his partner and because this means you're getting better.

[sergle]

HEY do you have horror podcast recommendations? My fave one recently ended :( so looking for more!

I listen to a lot of horror podcasts, mostly in a sporadic fashion!! A few episodes here and there, not total loyalty, and most of them are pretty well known. .. I started writing up little blurbs for each of the podcasts I was gonna list, and then I realized the post was going to be really really really long. i will provide more detailed opinions if they are actually Wanted, LMAO. MY FAVORITE HORROR PODCAST for which I've heard every single episode, and also I think the guy's voice is kinda hot, is Knifepoint Horror. There really hasn't been anything else I've listened to that matches the vibe in the same way. There isn't even an intro or outro to the episodes, there aren't any ad breaks, and the guy is obviously using a pen name. I absolutely love it. Each episode is its own individual story, and it's the style of horror that I really enjoy a lot, where the scare is the Dread-Inducing, immersive type that builds slowly. Sometimes you forget that the story's trajectory is headed that way at all. I enjoy it a lot. I also like the semi-low-res painting crop that's used as the show icon.

and the rest of them! the asterisk is for podcasts I only listen to sporadically, or I have criticisms about about. bolded are the ones I recommend the most. -Scare You To Sleep -Wolf 359 -The Magnus Archives -The Black Tapes -Mayfair Watchers Society* -Old Gods of Appalachia* -The White Vault -Thirteen* -The NoSleep Podcast* -Odd Trails* horror podcasts that are on my list, because I have been bullied into putting them on there, but I haven't listened to more than an episode or so and have not gotten a read on them, or I'm just being stubborn: -Malevolent -The Silt Verses -I Am In Eskew -Welcome To Night Vale

[allthegothihopgirls]

just finished reading death in the family properly and. whoo the racist undertones are racist undertoning. but uh. wanted to say that i cannot understand why people hated jason back then because like. he’s just a kid. he’s a KID. shaking 80s fans by the shoulders he’s a CHILD. he’s not gonna be a mature adult he’s gonna be a little weird and a little annoying even!! but he is a KID.

also wanted to ask your opinions on the jason has chronic pain headcanon? i personally as someone w chronic pain really enjoy it because it makes sense and i am a firm believer that we need more representation of invisible disabilities like some chronic pain is (and mine is) but ive heard a few people say they don’t like it

— baptism anon

right?? like yeah i think jason dying was the most beneficial thing to ever happen to his character, and he also had next-to-no defining traits as robin apart from being a dick grayson carbon-copy + replacement... but i don't get why people hated him.

~

jason w/ chronic pain!!!!!! oh boy i have feelings about him... i LOVE.

especially when it's death-induced.. a bit like phantom feeling/pain, but instead it is. very. real. like, he has chronic joint pain in places where joker hit him a few too many times etc. personally i reject the 'lazarus pit made him squeaky clean' canon, so on top of him keeping all his scars, and being more frankenstein than man.. chronic pain fits in very well.

i also definitely enjoy headcanons of him with chronic migraines.. not because i'm projecting.

i think it's a pretty agreed-upon headcanon that jason isn't a fan of medication in the slightest, due to his mother's death (only making exceptions when he's sustained more than a minor injury on patrol or a mission and is being tended to).

so i propose, stubborn jason w/ chronic migraines, who will never admit to needing actual medication. obviously he isn't going to be stupid about it, he won't patrol if it's too bad, and maybe tries to ward it off with some regular ibuprofen. but he is so against being properly medicated for prevention or treatment, and gets super defensive if dick or bruce suggest it to him.

he's always in varying levels of head hurt™ and just. lives with it. in the comfort of his own apartment he's definitely not a stranger to herbal teas and heat packs though.. however at the same time he's 100% beating himself up whenever he can't just power through.

i don't think he'd actively tell anyone either. dick figures it out from the way he'll rub at his temples post-patrol, or maybe a couple of unclosed search tabs on a computer 'whydoesmyheadalwayshurt' or 'home remedies: how to naturally prevent migraines'

for bruce finding out i have a bit more of a developed idea. jason's gone out patrolling with a migraine, against his better judgement. he's on comms with bruce, who's getting his assistance on a case he's been tracking. seemingly out of nowhere he hisses a little in pain, and bruce is asking what's wrong.

jason grows defensive quickly and spurts out a routine "imfinedontworry" but was apparently not convincing enough because before he knows it bruce is asking "status?" ..and he swears there's a microchip in him somewhere that forces him to give a truthful answer, because it's not like he wants to tell bruce his head's hurting, because that's just plain embarrassing. he doesn't want people thinking that he can't handle pain that miniscule.

between that and the other times he's been asked "red hood, report" and stated his condition, adding on a "head hurts a bit too, but that's just normal".. it wasn't difficult for bruce to suspect something unusual.

moving away from migraines, i think he also experiences chronic joint pain. compared to the previously mentioned, it's easier to play joint pain off as 'normal' and convince himself there's no cause for concern. he's 100% in denial of having an actual issue, which i'd like to think somewhat comes from bruce experiencing the exact same thing, and jason watching him absolutely refuse to admit any weakness it causes him.

he ends up believing it's just something that happens to everyone (well, at least everyone who dresses up and fights crime on the regular). jason's confused when dick's asking him if he wants to stick around for a chat post-patrol, because is dick not also desperate to go home, ice his joints, and spend time doing stretches to ease his pain before finally getting some sleep?????

i don't think he'd realise that it isn't a normal thing until he's called out on it. maybe he makes an off-comment about 'never feeling 75%, let alone 100%' comfort-wise, and damian remarks how that is. an issue. jason's instantly defending himself "yeah well that's just what happens when you've been in the business for this long-" and dick chimes in to point out that he doesn't feel like that. from there i think he goes to an even larger effort to hide any pain he's in.

big believer in jason being a cane user too. i think babs is the one who convinces him to start using one, after the events of this panel ↓ ↓ ↓ 

you cannot tell me that she's letting that comment slide: "that book looked... useful" plus "i don't think i've ever been okay", ok jason mr 'i really resonated with this and now i'm having revelations' todd.

she's 100% sitting his ass down for a real talk about whatever he has going on.

and i think afterwards, babs suggests that he really considers mobility aids. to which i think he ends up being very accidentally ableist, in the 'but those are for old people' way. it takes... a lot to reverse his somewhat internalised ableism, and get him to at least try a mobility aid out.

he grows less opposed to it as he realises that it's not something he's obligated to use all the time, and that it works. so he uses a cane around his apartment, and around the manor when he gets to be confident enough (he's a bit worried of people asking questions, but no one even bats an eye, because it just makes sense).

i have a whole other set of thoughts about the batfamily + how they go about jason using a cane... but i think i've gone on for long enough.. my apologies

in conclusion... chronic pain!jason todd is a HUGE headcanon of mine. love it a lot.

[doe-writes-stuff]

A/N - My love for the cowboy space dad, Sam Coe, has eclipsed to the point where I am now writing him fanfic...what a time to be alive, y'all. Anyway, enjoy the results of my brain rot, and let me know what you thought of it >.> More may be to come if he continues to plague my every waking thought

WARNINGS: Some angst on poor Cora's part, thanks to Lillian. Some Lillian bashing, thanks to reader. It's not specified if reader and Sam are fully together at this point in the story, but it's implied. Post 'Matters of the Hart' mission.

The bay of the Razorleaf slowly descended with a hydraulic hiss, finally clanking against the tarmac of a landing pad. From the bottom of the ramp, you watched as the dusty, endlessly sun-bleached landscape of Akira came into view. The first unfiltered breath of the atmosphere hit the back of your throat unpleasantly. How anyone tolerated such a low humidity every single day, you couldn’t guess. Akila was kind enough not to be a sweltering wasteland on top of it all, so…small victories there.

You’d not been much impressed with the sight of the planet the first time you’d landed on it, and it still gave no better impression now. Sand-swept walls and buildings rose from an equally monotone environment. It wasn’t hard to picture the planet might one day just swallow the city whole and leave nothing after to show there’d been civilization there. Perhaps through sheer stubbornness and pride, the Akila City citizens kept their place in the galaxy.

A long-suffering sigh and a set of muted footsteps approach from your right. Sam stops beside you and gazes across his home planet with equal apprehension. His arms cross and he levels his hometown’s ‘Welcome to Akila City’ archway a woeful stare.

“Never gets any easier…”

You’re not surprised by his reluctance to return home. A visit to Jacob Coe was never an occasion to celebrate, and this one would be particularly disappointing, given Sam would also be relinquishing his daughter to Lillian for that long-time-promised week vacation Cora mentioned every opportunity she could. You didn’t fault the almost-teen for being excited to see her mother, but it wasn’t hard to miss Sam’s lack of enthusiasm for the whole affair. He loved his daughter above anything else, and letting her go for such a length of time wouldn’t be easy.

This stop was a ‘two birds, one stone’ of all of Sam’s least favorite activities. His less-than-cheery mood was understandable, and you couldn’t help but share this feeling. After months of the inquisitive girl aboard your vessel, you’d gotten so used to the random questions and cringe-inducing jokes that the impending silence was admittedly quite daunting.

Akila just so happened to be the closest planet to where Lillian had finished up a month-long assignment. With the promise that she had time-off to spend, Sam had agreed to have the Ranger pick Cora up here, and it would ultimately be where you and Sam retrieved her after their time together. It ate the cowboy up inside, you could tell. But he kept quiet and put on a facade of support if only for Cora’s sake.

“I don’t see Lillian’s ship.” He added, sweeping his gaze past the entrance to the city and across to the other landing pads. Concern began to overtake the displeasure of being on Akila, and you could instantly follow where his internal thoughts were leading.

“We did get here earlier than planned.” You finally say, laying a calming hand on the man’s jacketed arm and earning his attention. It’s not like you were were defending the woman, but it was a little silly to assume anything when the Razorleaf had just touched down almost 2 hours before you’d agreed to rendezvous with the Ranger. You might dislike Lillian Hart, but you weren’t that petty. “Give it some time.”

“Yeah, yeah…you’re right.” After an affirming deep breath and a weary shake of his head, some of the tension in his shoulders eases. Some, but not all. “I’m just…not too optimistic about this.”

“I know.”

“She’s flaked before, and this one means a whole lot to Cora.” He went on, as if you weren’t already aware of the meaning behind it all. “I can’t help but worry she’s not gonna show.”

“We’ll handle that if it comes to it. For now, just take a breath.” You say, flashing him your best reassuring smile. Even he could tell it was a little forced, but he did return the gesture with a muted one of his own. At the very least, you made sure he didn’t have to face whatever might happen by himself.

Razorleaf’s airlock releases behind you, and Cora’s beaming smile leaves the ship before she does, her small suitcase of belongings in tow behind her. You’re willing to bet there are more books than there are clothes in there, but hey, you wouldn’t judge. She blunders down the ramp with an energy you’d never seen before, curls bouncing atop her head the whole way, finally coming to a breathless stop next to her father.

“Is she here yet?” She questions, eyes already darting around the spaceport before receiving an answer.

“Not just yet, string bean.” Sam gave her hair a good-natured rustle, smile regaining some of its warmth as he addressed his daughter. “I’ve got some business with your grandpa first, so we arrived a bit early. I’m sure she’ll be touching down soon enough.”

You don’t comment on the edge of uncertainty that accompanies that last part. And thankfully, Cora doesn’t ask to go with her father for a family visit. Sam always preferred her to be as far away from Jacob as possible. At some point, you assume Cora understood why, though she’d never directly voiced it.

Sam pats his daughter’s cheek affectionately. “I shouldn’t be too long. Y/N’s gonna keep you company until your mother gets here. Don’t you go anywhere until I get back to say goodbye, alright?”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

Cora gives an exaggerated little roll of her eyes, but her smile is ever-present. “I promise, dad."

“That a’girl.” He says, leaning down to place a gentle kiss against the top of her head. Then, his attention turns to you. “You two gonna be alright?”

“We’ll be just fine.” Is your reply, promising through unspoken word to keep Cora safe and sound while he was away. The reassurance is what he needed most, and you were more than happy to provide it. “We’ll make sure to have way more fun than you will.”

“Heh. Yeah, well…that won’t be too hard.” Sam’s head tilted a little, eyes squinting, already picturing the impending encounter with his own father. “I’ll comm you when I’m done.”

You wave your companion goodbye, watching him disappear past the protective walls of Akila City, then turn to the girl practically buzzing with excitement beside you. “We’ve got a bit of time to kill. So…where to first?”

This earns you an amused laugh, and the two of you begin walking towards the entrance of the city. “Do you even need to ask?”

“I figured today might be the day you just surprise me.”

You’re not sure how much time you spend standing around watching Cora browse the many books in Akila City’s—woefully small, in your opinion—selection. Seeing her over the moon at each new title, eyes scanning the summaries and even skimming the inner pages never got old. Her enthusiasm for the first new book she’d laid eyes on was just as exuberant as what was possibly the 18th book that afternoon.

The girl was a talker, chatting up the bookstore owners with the passion of a scholar. You could tell the women weren’t used to having someone so forthcoming with their love of literature in their store, but they quickly joined Cora’s wavelength and discussed their favorite volumes at length.

More than content to stand off to the side and let the girl have her fun, you interjected where appropriate, but for the most part just let the conversation go without you. Cora could talk for two people, anyway.

Eventually, even she had her fill of the bookstore, stomach grumbling with the need for food. You walked out of the store only a few hundred credits poorer—a miracle if there ever was one—and headed off to the chunks establishment just down the way. Akila was a maze at the best of times, but for once you managed to navigate the streets with little trouble.

You stood in line and debated with the young bibliophile what the best flavor of chunks was, but couldn’t come to an agreement. Your own favorite was completely out of stock when you managed to get help from the attendant, so you went with Cora’s favorite instead. 

With sated stomachs and a few new books for Cora in tow, you return to the spaceport to wait on the ship until either Sam or Lillian arrive. One glance around at the other landing pads confirms that Lillian’s ship had still not touched down. Sam still hadn’t comm’d you after an hour and a half, which meant his meeting with Jacob probably wasn’t going well. Regardless, you knew he’d make his way back to the Razorleaf in time to see his daughter off, even if it meant leaving business unfinished with his father.

You hid your worry behind a carefully neutral interest in whatever Cora had been talking about while you walked back to the Razorleaf, but that pit of dread began to dig its way into your stomach. Anger simmered right behind it. Cora didn’t seem to notice your rapidly worsening mood, which was all the better. If your fears turned out to be unwarranted, no need to rub it off on the girl.

When the ship’s communicator finally chimed with an incoming transmission, both yours and Cora’s heads jerked up. Being closer to the cockpit, you slid into the captain’s chair just as Cora ran by your side. Immediately, you knew it wasn’t Sam reaching out, and instead the woman you were meant to be meeting in…28 minutes. Cora’s face lit up with the prospect that it was her mother calling to tell them she was almost there.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be that optimistic.

One touch on your control panel accepted the transmission. Before you could even issue the standard greeting, Cora chimed in with a bubbly, “Hi, Mom!”

Hearing her daughter’s voice had caught the Ranger off guard. There was a pause before she responded. “Cora, angel…how are you?”

Her tone of voice made you stiffen in your seat, mouth pressing into a thin line, but Cora didn’t notice. She leaned forward against your chair’s armrest.

“I’m great! Are you almost here? I’ve got my bag all packed, so as soon as Dad comes back from Grandpa’s we can leave.”

“Ah, I was actually hoping to speak with your dad. Do you know how long he’ll be?” 

Figures she’d try to speak with Sam instead of breaking her daughter’s heart directly, you think bitterly. You wondered if she even realized how selfish it was to put the responsibility on her ex-husband to break this crushing news.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon. And I found a few books we can read together while we travel to wherever we are going. I know you’ll like them.”

Your heart broke further with each new word the curly-haired pre-teen spoke, knowing what was about to happen. The taste of your chunks packet earlier was overshadowed by the bitterness of anger as it bubbled hotter under your skin.

“That’s great, sweetie, but…” Lillian’s voice trailed off, guilt or embarrassment or some equally fitting emotion coloring her tone. Perhaps she’d realized that there was no softening the blow she was about to deliver. “…listen. Something came up that I have to take care of. I’m so sorry, Cora. I’m not gonna be able to make it this time.”

A full second, maybe two, of silence passed, Cora processing what her mother had said. Seeing the girl’s face morph from elation at hearing her mother’s voice to something akin to confused betrayal tore at the deepest parts of your heart. If you could have saved her from this, you would have. But Cora being in the ship meant that she’d hear every word spoken no matter where in the craft she was.

“Oh.”

That one word, uttered with such devastating resignation. Cora straightened from leaning across your armrest and stood there with a carefully put together mask. You could see every crack and fracture in the young girl’s facade, but she put up a valiant effort to appear unaffected.

Lillian must have heard the same, and continued again before you could interject anything.

“I know how much you were looking forward to this, and trust me when I say I was too. I’d love nothing more than to take you away to a little paradise together and just spend the days hangin’ out without a care in the world.” Lillian’s attempts at smoothing over the hurt did nothing at all to fix anything about this. “I promise you, we’ll get together and have our week-long vacation, do or die, one of these days.”

Cora didn’t say anything. So unlike the chatty pre-teen. She looked down at her shoes, before quietly taking a hold of her suitcase you now realized she’d dragged with her in her rush to the cockpit.

“It’s alright, mom. We’ll figure it out someday.” Dear God, she barely sounded like Cora…all color was missing from her voice. So little life.

“I love you, you know that?”

“I know.” And with that, she turned and padded her way back to the cot at the back of the ship. Perhaps she didn’t want you to witness her misery, because she went so far as to close the hatch to the cockpit, leaving you by yourself with Lillian still connected. Even with the hatch closed, Cora might still hear the conversation, but given everything that had happened, you no longer gave a damn.

“What is it this time, Lillian?” Your voice is full of barely restrained venom as you lean forward in your chair. You can’t see the woman through the audio transmission, but you were glaring anyway. “What’s so important that you couldn’t keep your promise to your daughter?”

The sweetness present when she’d spoken with Cora was absent, replaced by cold indifference when addressing you. The contrast was so stark, if you hadn’t already known her, you’d say they were two separate women. “You talk like this doesn’t hurt me just as much as it does Cora.”

“Because it doesn’t.” You say, reminding yourself to restrain the worst of your emotions. It wouldn’t do Cora any favors by cursing out her absentee mother from the other room. That wasn’t what the girl needed right now. Your head shakes with a rueful scoff. “If you could only see, Lilian…the way that girl’s face shattered. Then maybe you’d understand just how much more she’s hurting. But no, instead you do this over comms where you don’t have to look her in the eyes. Hell, you were going to put it on Sam to break the news, weren’t you?”

Lillian, perhaps smartly, doesn’t rise to that particular insinuation. “I do what I can, when I can to be there. It’s unfortunately a lot less than I’d like, but my duty is to protect the people of Freestar Space. I have obligations I can’t just ignore.”

“You seem to have forgotten your obligations as a mother in the process.”

“I’d give anything to be there with my little girl. Don’t ever imply I wouldn’t.”

“If that were the case, you’d have found someone else to handle whatever ‘came up.’ When it comes down to it, you don’t give anything, and you need to. Each missed visit convinces her that she’s another step further down on your list of priorities. What do you think happens when she believes she’s at the bottom?” You retort, already exhausted over this whole conversation.

“Cora knows how much she means to me, how important she is.” Funny, you think Lillian almost has herself convinced.

If it kept going at this rate, you were likely to start yelling, and that wouldn’t end well. Besides, Cora needed someone to be with her right now, so things needed to end quickly. 

You let out a heavy, exasperated sigh, voice growing much quieter as you reigned in your fury. “Look, Lillian…Sam already explained this to you. You can’t keep doing this. Cora can’t. She’s already 12. 13 in just a few months. Before you know it, she won’t be a child anymore. At this rate, there will come a point when she decides waiting for you to bother isn’t worth the heartache. There will come a day when you retire, when the need to fulfill a duty is over and done, and she will not be there. Because in the moments when it mattered—really mattered—you weren’t there for her. You realize that, right?”

You hear the woman sigh, and deep down, you know she hates that this conversation ever had to take place as much as you do. You know, really, that Lillian had good intentions with her promises. And that’s what made it all the more frustrating when she failed to deliver. She was well aware of how important this all was. Her damned chronic workaholic personality and inability to set aside the needs of the many just wouldn’t allow her to put anything else above it. Even at the cost of her daughter’s trust and happiness.

“You sound more like her mother than I do sometimes…” The Ranger admits tiredly. “I don’t know whether to be angry or grateful.”

“Honestly, I don’t care how you feel about it.” You say with a shrug. “She needs someone to be there for her. Sam is a wonderful father, and always there when it counts, but that girl needs a mother too. I know I’ll never replace you in her heart, it's not something I'm trying to do anyway. But I’ll fill whatever role she needs me to be, if it keeps her smiling.”

You hear a muffled beeping through the transmission, followed by Lillian’s muttered curse. “Damn it…looks like I’m about to have company.”

“Spacers?” You weren’t really concerned, or even cared, and asked only out of obligation.

“Crimson Fleet, I think.” There’s a pause, and you know that the conversation had come to an end. Nothing had resolved, but you knew Lillian wasn’t likely to change who she was after a short talk. “Listen, tell Cora I love her. I expect I’ll hear from Sam later on about this. He has every right to be angry. I am who I am, and that’s exactly the reason we never would have worked out in the end. I only regret Cora is suffering because of it. But for now, duty calls.”

Always duty with this woman. “Be safe, Lillian.” You bid, already reaching for the console button to end the transmission.

“You too.”

The audio cuts off abruptly, and you lean back in your chair with a slow inhale. Dragging your hands down your face, you release the last of your anger in a harsh exhale. Best to get rid of it now, so it wasn’t obvious when you went to see Cora. Not wasting anymore time, you stand from the chair and open the hatch.

You find Cora sat on your cot, a thousand-yard stare fixed at some point on the floor in front of her. Her smile was long gone, replaced instead by the remains of whatever facade she’d crafted to appear put together and ok. The little suitcase she’d packed with all her belongings sat a few feet away. It was zipped halfway open, as if she’d began to unpack, but then thought better of it.

A sad sigh leaves your lips. For a moment, you just watch her, calculating how best to approach this conversation. Sam was much better equipped to handle something like this, but you weren’t sure how much longer he’d be, and it pained you having to see her in such despair. You couldn’t just sit back and let her stew in whatever thoughts might be dragging her further down.

You slowly approach the still-silent Cora, electing to sit at her side just a few inches apart. Whether she wanted physical comfort, or just someone to be nearby, you weren’t sure. But you were close enough that, should she need you, she didn’t need to go far.

And for awhile, the two of you just…sit there. Words fail you, and try as hard as you might to find the right ones to say that might heal some of the hurt in Cora’s heart, nothing feels good enough. But eventually, you hear the girl sniffle. The first sign that her careful hold on her emotions was beginning to crack.

“Mom is a good Ranger. She’s out there saving lots of lives and making the galaxy less dangerous.” Cora’s wavering voice says, and you nearly want to cry yourself hearing just how hard it was for her not to shed those tears. Perhaps this was something she told herself each day as justification for her mother's constant absence. “I know she’ll make it up to me one day. She always does, eventually.”

You bite your lip. “Cora-“

“But…just once,” another sniffle breaks through, and then the first tear slides down her cheek, “I was hoping that…that it would all go right and we’d be a-able to see each other for a whole week. There’s s-so much I want to show her and talk to…to her about.”

More tears follow the first, and you lift your sleeve to wipe them from her face gently. But they keep coming, now that the floodgates had opened, and Cora openly wept as she sat beside you, her true feelings spilling over in bucketfuls. You did your best to keep up, but it only takes minutes for her to be shaking with the overwhelming sadness.

“I just want my mom…” She sobs, covering her eyes with her hands to try stopping the flow. “That’s all.”

A sharp cry has you reaching for her shoulders and pulling the girl in close, and your heart leaps when she forcefully wraps her arms around your middle and buries her tear-stained face in your shirt. What you wouldn’t give to drag Lillian here by the hair and force her to be here for her daughter…

With soothing ‘shushing’ noises, you gently rock her back and forth, one hand patting her back and the other holding her head close. You don’t know what to say to her, truly. Finding the words to tell Lillian how much you thought she failed her daughter constantly and consistently was easy. Finding the words to tell her child that she deserved so much more than what she was being given? That was much more difficult.

You sat there while Cora poured her heart out. Through the sobs, she mumbled muffled and incoherent sentences into your shirt. You’re not sure what half of them were, but if she just wanted to get it all out and vent, that was fine with you. Your shirt was damp with her tears, but that was alright too. Nothing would pull you away from offering whatever support you could while she worked her way through the many emotions.

Eventually, Cora’s sobbing began to ebb, the shaking becoming less pronounced. Her breathing evens to something less stuttered and shallow, and before too long you realize she’d managed to cry herself to sleep against your side. The poor thing…you continued the gentle rocking motion just in case, not wanting to wake her up.

A dull beeping noise caught your attention, and you look up towards the cockpit where it emanated from. Your communicator, you realized. That was probably Sam, wanting to let you know that he was done with whatever him and Jacob had needed to discuss. Part of you thinks to get up and answer, but the thought of jostling Cora awake was too much. You sat there, figuring that Sam would return to the ship to look for the two of you.

If you had to guess, it was about ten minutes before you heard the footsteps coming up the Razorleaf’s ramp. You didn’t move from your spot, listening as the airlock hissed open. Somehow, the noise didn’t wake the exhausted Cora, who barely moved from her place next to you.

Sam nearly walked past you sitting on the cot, but his peripheral vision caught your presence, and he stopped. He took in the sight of his daughter curled into your side, her posture clearly indicating that she’d been crying. You met his gaze with a stony, cold fury, one he understood wasn’t directed at him personally. That one, silent stare was all he needed to figure out what had occurred while he’d been away. 

The inquisitive expression he’d worn coming in vanished, jaw setting tightly. Clearly agitated, Sam stepped a few paces away, hand rubbing along his jaw in an effort to remain calm in the face of what Lillian had put his daughter through once again. He looked like he wanted to throw something. His breathing was more pronounced, though came through in slow, methodical inhale and exhales through his nose. Truthfully, you don’t think you’d ever seen Sam so angry.

In time, he finds himself again, stowing away the anger for the sake of his daughter. He could vent his feelings to Lillian later, when Cora wouldn’t hear it, but for now the important thing was making sure his daughter was alright. That was something you would never grow tired of seeing; Sam’s absolute dedication to his little girl, no matter what.

He moves to sit on her other side, and leans down to kiss the top of her head. It didn’t matter to him if she was still sleeping. You slowly move to shift Cora’s weight over to Sam, and somehow manage it without waking the sleeping pre-teen. She stirs, but her eyes never open.

Sam takes off his cowboy hat and sets it next to him, leaning back and holding Cora closer to him. He settles in to sit there for awhile, unsure how long she’ll be out for. Then, his eyes glance up to meet your own, holding them with a look so full of…something, that you can’t look away.

“Thank you. You were there for her when she needed it.” He says, his voice raspy and quiet so as not to wake Cora. And while you know he couldn’t have heard your conversation with Lillian before, it’s eerie how similar his words were. “I appreciate that beyond words.”

You give a little shrug, eyes drifting back down to the girl in his arms. “She needs her dad now.”

“And you, Y/N.” He says, drawing your attention back up to him. He offers the smallest of smiles. “She needs you too.”

Unsure of what to say, you simply sit back and make yourself comfortable, waiting for Cora to awaken. Your hand rubs along her back, hoping that the two of you would somehow be able to fix some of what Lillian had broken.

[hopepetal]

Masterlist

Read on AO3!

Part Four!

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! :)

@applestruda

Impulse fell back into control of his own body in the same way one snapped out of a particularly long ADHD-induced dissociative state. Panicked, unthinking, and wondering how much time has it been? 

The book was still burning as Impulse instinctively reached out to snatch it from the flames, only fully processing a moment later that maybe he shouldn’t have grabbed something that was still actively on fire. With a cry of pain and shock, Impulse dropped the book onto the ground as the rain began to beat down more heavily. Stumbling back, he tripped over his own feet and fell, landing with a soft noise of pain as he held his injured hand close to his chest. 

For a moment, he sat there, the small fire put out by the heavy rain far too late. A fear the likes of which he had never felt before sat in his chest, causing his heart to race. 

What just happened to me? Is it going to happen again? My hand hurts I need to get it bandaged I need to TELL someone I can’t tell anyone what if it happens again what if I lose control and hurt someone what if– 

“Impulse?”

Once again, he was yanked from his spiraling thoughts by someone calling his name. Turning around perhaps just a bit too quickly, Impulse looked up to see Scar, sopping wet from the rain, standing behind him. “Scar,” he breathed out, equal parts relieved and terrified. “Scar, are you– are you okay?”

Scar frowned, his eyes immediately landing on Impulse’s burnt hand. “I… think I should be asking you that, Impulse. C’mere, we’re gonna get that all fixed up.” He carefully helped Impulse to his feet. “I’m not gonna ask what happened,” he began as they walked back to the main camp through the rain, “so don’t worry about that. But…” He sighed. “Just… Impulse, I– we– don’t want you to be suffering alone. We’re knights. We’re friends. We’re in this together.” 

Impulse nodded, trying to swallow that stubborn lump in his throat. “Yeah. Thanks, Scar.”

Mumbo, wearing a raincoat and holding an umbrella like any normal person would, waved to the two when they approached the tents. “Did you get caught in the rain?” he shouted, if only to be heard over the downpour. 

“No,” Scar called back, “we’re just naturally this wet!” 

“Oh, okay! Um, Grian and Pearl aren’t around, because, well, you know. Their wings,” Mumbo tried to explain, “their wings don’t– why am I explaining this to you, you both know this, goodness gracious…”

“Thanks Mumbo,” Scar said anyway, “are you gonna get inside? I don’t think this storm is gonna let up any time soon.” 

Mumbo shook his head. “This is actually the perfect time for me to study the possibility of harnessing lightning for power! Theoretically, it could work, but theoretically it could also blow me up. And to be honest, I can’t wait to see which one it is.”

“Have fun!” Scar called after him, before leading Impulse to the swaggon. Instead of tents like the other knights, he usually just stayed in the same place he did before joining the knights. “I have bandages and burn stuff here, because goodness knows I burn myself plenty when cooking. Just sit down right there…” He quickly rifled through one of his chests, before pulling out clean bandages and burn ointment. “Aaand I should have some water– how are you feeling, by the way?– here it is!”

As Scar helped Impulse cool the burn and clean his hand, Impulse was at a loss for words. Scar seemed to take note of that after a few minutes of him being unresponsive to the attempts at keeping the mood light hearted, and continued to silently bandage the treated burns. 

“I’m sorry,” Impulse began, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

Scar chuckled softly, understanding shining through in his eyes. “I think I’d know that feeling better than anyone, Impulse. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I know I’ve done more than my fair share of… poorly thought out things… in the past.” 

Impulse had to bite back a laugh. “Yeah, I can think of a couple more memorable ones,” he admitted, “but I just… I dunno, Scar. I…” He sighed. “What would you think if I wasn’t human?”

Scar didn’t even pause. “I mean, Impulse, we’ve been over this a million times before. If you weren’t human, none of the knights would be.” He began to put away the bandages, ointment, and leftover water. 

Impulse frowned, shaking his head. “That’s not…” He flexed his right hand, testing to see how much he could move still, before placing it back in his lap. “What do you think of me now?” he pressed, looking back up at Scar.  

Scar smiled, turning back to Impulse. “Oh, that’s easy. You’re strong, kind, passionate, smart, a really good teacher, an amazing fighter, you’re funny, you’re creative, and just… you’re a great friend.”

“But what if I wasn’t…” Impulse tried to figure out how to word the question, bouncing his leg slightly. “What if I wasn’t just me?” 

Scar thought for a moment, before shrugging. “Well, I don’t think there’s any problem with bein’ that! And, Impulse…” He sat down so that he could be at Impulse’s eye level, folding his hands in his lap and leaning forward. “You’re making it sound like there’s something wrong with being human.” He smiled kindly, but there was something that stopped it from reaching his eyes. “That’s what this is about, yeah? I’ve been… I’ve been thinking about it for a bit. With everything going on…”

Impulse shook his head, interrupting Scar. “No, no, no, there’s nothing wrong with being human! I just… what if the me I am isn’t good enough?”

For a moment, there was silence.

“Oh, Impulse.” Scar’s voice broke slightly on his name. “You are more than enough. You have always been. I’m so happy you’re one of my friends, a part of my life, you…” He took a deep breath, in and out. “If you could see the things you’ve done from an outside perspective, you’d see it– just how much you’ve changed and impacted lives. I…” he trailed off, caught for a moment in a fleeting memory. “I can say for a fact I’ve changed for the better since I met you. So please don’t ever say or think that you aren’t good enough. Because you are. Because you always have been.”

Impulse tried to blink away the tears that suddenly were welling up in his eyes, but it was too late. His vision blurred, and the next blink sent salty drops falling from his eyes to make dark spots on his fresh bandages. It was as if the dam burst with that, and tears began to fall in a steady stream as Impulse’s shoulders shook. 

All this pain, all this fear, all the self doubt and anxiety… and he wasn’t alone. He had never been, really. If it hadn’t been for him shutting the other knights out, he wouldn’t have ever ended up with a demon in his mind taking control whenever it wished. But now…

“Thank you, Scar,” Impulse got out, furiously wiping his eyes. “I… I think I needed to hear that.”

Scar nodded. “Of course. I… I can’t say I know exactly how you feel, and I wish I knew more to help you. But just… talk to us, okay? Or, gosh, I don’t know– talk to someone, at least! We won’t be able to help you if we don’t know you’re hurting.”

“Okay. Okay. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Impulse wiped away what he hoped to be the last of his tears, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. “I– I will. I promise I’ll talk to you guys more. And I’m really sorry about all of this.”

Scar waved his hand. “Ah, don’t be. We all have our moments.” He smiled tentatively. “Do you want to stay here with me and wait out the storm? We can make bets on if Mumbo’s new experiment blows up or not.”

Impulse grinned– a real, happy grin. “Sounds great.”

–

Somehow, things got better.

The first day Impulse woke up feeling well-rested, he could hardly believe it. But it continued to happen, again and again, until finally he was waking up at a much more normal time. 

“For you, maybe,” Grian had said, but the clear relief in his expression over Impulse’s “recovery” had taken away any snark intended. 

Slowly, Impulse began to heal. Not only from the burns, but from the exhaustion and lack of appetite as well. The animals seemed to forget all about their previous distrust of Impulse, though Jellie still was a little wary. He didn’t really mind, of course. The joy he felt from being able to settle back into his life again was enough.

The other knights were thrilled, too. It was like a fog had been lifted from the camp, and everything just felt… lighter.

“Alright.” Pearl interrupted the lively chatter during lunchtime about two weeks later, “we’re unfortunately getting a little low on vegetables and some other supplies. It’s been a while since Impulse and I brought back everything, and I don’t want it goin’ bad, ya hear?”

“Soup day?” Mumbo piped up, eyes wide. They’d all heard this speech a million times, and it was always something the knights looked forward to. 

Pearl nodded, smiling. “Soup day.”

“I don’t know why we call it soup day,” Grian mumbled, “it really ends up more like stew, if you ask me.”

Pearl rolled her eyes. “Because, goofball, it’s tradition! And also, soup sounds nicer than stew.”

And so, Impulse found himself paired up with Scar, who kept watch over the pot and stirred while he chopped vegetables. 

“Whew!” Scar wiped the sweat from his forehead, turning away from the fire. “It's been a while since I've cooked. I forgot how hot everything gets!”

Impulse laughed. “Yes, that tends to happen with fire. Shocking.”

“Oh, you hush!” Scar grabbed a large spoon, waving it sternly in Impulse's direction before turning back to the pot. “You just keep cutting those veggies, mister.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Impulse turned back to the cutting board, reaching for the knife that lay beside it. 

Do it.

Impulse froze. His hand stopped where it was, hovering just over the knife. Taking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment. He had to calm down. He was– he was just hearing things. Nothing was wrong. He was fine. The demon was gone. It had to be. It hadn’t spoken in weeks. Why would it show up again now?

Impulse picked up the knife, placing a washed and peeled carrot on the cutting board. He began to cut the carrot into thin slices with deft hands. In the background, he could hear Scar humming to himself as the fire crackled. 

It's just you and him. Alone. The words were like a fog settling over his mind, like icy hands gripping at his heart. An easy target.

Impulse's chopping stilled as he tensed up, before starting to cut again. His movements were sharper, harder, and one of the carrot slices flew off of the table. “Gosh–” He set the knife down, bending to pick the carrot slice up and throw it away. 

“You good, man?” Scar called from where he stood beside the fire, not turning to look away from the pot. “Havin' some troubles?”

He has his back to you.

“Nah,” Impulse joked, though his tone was a bit forced. “Just underestimated my own strength.” He straightened back up, gripping the edge of the table with his hands. 

No. No, no, no no no no. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not now. Not after he’d finally started to be happy again. 

The voice cooed softly in his head, a persuasive siren song. It would take nothing at all to kill him. Impulse found his hand drifting toward the knife, unable to stop. To stab him in the back... He picked it up. Somehow, this was different from the possession. Yes... feel the thirst... spill his blood–!

The demon wasn’t making him do anything. This time, it made him want to.

“No!” Impulse breathed out, stumbling back. He threw the knife down on the table. “Sorry, Scar. I gotta go. I'll tell Grian to come out and help you.” 

Impulse fled, not sticking around to hear Scar's confused “Wait–!”

–

“...just worried, is all. I know you see it too. It’s like whatever happened–”

Whatever conversation Grian and Pearl were having before Impulse interrupted had probably been important by the sound of it, but Impulse didn’t really have the time to feel guilty about that. Panicked, he looked back and forth between them both, still panting slightly. “Grian?” he got out, trying to force his voice to stay calm, “Grian, I need you to go help Scar. I– I can’t…” He trailed off as he realized just how stupid this all sounded. 

Pearl took a step toward him, her face unreadable. “Are you feeling alright, Impulse?” she asked, and after a moment, Impulse swallowed and nodded. “Are you sure, mate? You’re looking awfully pale.”

Grian said nothing, but Impulse noticed how his wings had slightly spread out, colourful feathers slightly puffing up. Grian had never been surprised by anyone before– he somehow always knew when someone was coming. So unless he had been angry at Pearl for some reason (which, thinking about it, wasn’t all that unbelievable), it had to have been Impulse who had set him off. 

…right?

Impulse just tried to smile and nod. “Um. Yeah. Sorry.” His eyes kept drifting back to Grian, which Pearl noticed.

She turned to Grian and smacked him on the shoulder. “Hey. Birdbrain. That’s Impulse, mhm? Our friend? Pull yourself together, goodness gracious.”

Grian blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Oh– was I staring? Uh, yeah, sorry about that.” His wings slowly folded back behind him, and he lost the alert posture. “Sorry. What was happening?”

“Nothing,” Impulse got out. “I’m good. I promise.”

Pathetic. He was pathetic. It wasn’t even that long ago when he’d had that conversation with Scar about reaching out, and being more open with the other knights. Guess this was just another thing he managed to screw up instantly. 

Impulse began to back away from the two. “The uh. The soup! Yeah, the soup’s almost done. I’ll see you guys at dinner…?”

Pearl smiled, if only to put him at ease. “Of course. See you at dinner, Impulse.”

Impulse began to walk away, and it was only when Grian and Pearl started talking again in hushed tones was he reminded that the contract with the demon gave him enhanced hearing. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to invade on their privacy–

“I told you. You could see it in his eyes.” 

“Grian, not now.” 

…especially when this was clearly about him.

Impulse ran the rest of the way back to Scar, and was all-too relieved to see that Mumbo was there as well. “Hey. Sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“Oh, it’s alright!” Scar called over to him, “we’re just about finished up, so don’t you worry!”

“I got to chop the vegetables,” Mumbo added, “but really, I’ve been thinking– it would be quite simple to just get an automatic…” He started to ramble about his idea of an automatic vegetable cutter, but Impulse found he couldn’t quite follow along as well as he’d hope to.

The demon was back. Or maybe it had never left. And not only could it speak to Impulse and possess him but it could influence him as well. 

Impulse was strong. He had trained all his life to hone his strength and skills. He couldn’t fly, couldn’t breathe underwater, couldn’t withstand a fiery blaze, and most certainly couldn’t teleport. But he was strong. In terms of pure physical strength, none of the other knights stood a chance.

And that terrified him. 

Dinner went by in a blur, and it felt as though barely a moment had passed by when Impulse laid down to sleep. He had been stuck in a sort of zoned out state ever since the demon had reappeared, and only now did his head feel more clear.

Today had been a warning. What happened with Scar– Impulse could’ve killed him. The fact that he hadn’t was frankly a miracle. But it would happen again. The demon would speak to him and he would pick up the knife and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself in time. 

Tomorrow.

Impulse would leave camp tomorrow, and he would run until he was far, far away from anyone he could hurt.

But for now, he needed to sleep.

[bookish-phile]

fourth wing in a nutshell (i think?)

“Stop letting fear leach into your voice,” Luca snaps from behind Rhiannon. “If the dragons think you’re a coward, you’ll be nothing but a name tomorrow.” “She says,” Ridoc narrates, “inducing more fear.”

“It’s been rather surprising to watch, actually.” “Happy to be your entertainment. I’m going to bed.”

“Hell yes!” Ridoc yells, hooting from the top. “That’s our girl!”

“Get on your back?” I repeat like a fucking parrot.

“You’re making us look bad. Stop it.”

“You will not fall. I will not allow it.” “You will trust me.”

“But…” I shake my head. “Dragons value strength and cunning and…ferocity in their riders.” None of which defines me. “Please, do tell me more about what I should value.”

“For the record, please tell me the name of the dragon who chose you.” I lift my chin. “Tairneanach.” “Pronunciation could use some work.” Tairn’s voice rumbles through my head.

I belong to Tairn and Andarna…and, in some really fucked-up way…Xaden.

Tell him to ease up on you.” “Tell him to mind his own business.”

“Tairn says if you harm me, he’ll burn you,” I say as dragons to the left and right launch skyward without their riders, headed back to the Vale. But not Tairn. Nope, he’s still standing behind me like an overprotective dad.

and it’s not like Liam here is sleeping in my bedroom.” “I mean, I’m not opposed—”

“Oh, are we telling dick jokes now?” Ridoc asks from Liam’s side. “Because my entire life has led up to this very moment.”

"..but Sgaeyl does whatever she wants, whenever she wants.."

“Are we on offense or defense?” I ask Xaden. “Little busy right now.” “Oh no, am I distracting you?” A smile curves my mouth. Shit, am I flirting? Maybe. Do I care? Oddly enough…no. “Yes.”

“What did she say?” Xaden asks, gripping my shoulders to steady me. Tairn growls and a puff of steam blasts us both. “I’d take your hands off the rider,” Sgaeyl warns.

“Fuck, that stubborn, feisty look always makes me want to kiss you.”

but it’s not his position that steals my breath. It’s the saddle strapped across his back that has me gawking. “I hear it’s all the fashion,” Tairn brags.

“Third-years are taught to build wards, and at this point in the year, they’re leaving anyway.” I shrug. “May as well send them early so they can be of use.” “Point fucking made.”

Dress uniforms only.” She lifts her brows at Ridoc. He shrugs. “What else would I be wearing?” “One never knows what you’ll come up with,” Devera says, dismissing us.

“So she’s grown quite close to him out of necessity.” Out of lust and need and the ache in my chest I’m terrified to define, but sure, necessity works.

“Then what made you even think that? Have to admit, it pissed me off. I’ve given you exactly zero reasons to think I’m in anyone else’s bed.”

anyway i almost forgot to post this and i also think no one actually read till the end bc i never read long posts so im gonna assume no one else does either

also these are just some stuff i found funny

[marys-little-cringes]

Let me start with a clean slate Pt.1

Pt.2 - Pt.3

Fandom: Smallville

Relationship: Clark Kent/Lex Luthor

Additional Tags: Bromance, Bromance to Romance, AU, Curtain Fic, Pre-Slash

Summary:

[4s17ep "Onyx"] An alternate ending in which the Lexs didn't reunite, instead Alexander is captured by Lex.

A/N:

I finished watching season 7, I am sad and frustrated. Starting with Belle Reve, it became vital for me that everything would be fine, because I can see perfectly well how everything is f*cked up. This series has become some sort of guide for me to the world where these two have a chance. The thing is, English isn't my native language and this is my first ff in English, so my also not-native-speaker-editor @nigthwingsleftbuttcheek and me did our best.  Anyway feel free to mark my typos or other errors if you find any. I would be most grateful!

 “Clark! Are you there?”  

 “Lex!” Clark jumped up on the couch and almost flew to the railing.

 Luthor was standing in the barn’s doorway.

 “What happened?” Clark asked anxiously. First of all, of course, he was worried about whether Lex had the opportunity to talk to him. Alexander found out his secret. “The second one—”

 “No.” Lex hastened to reassure him and went to the stairs. “The second... me is taken care of.”

 “What did you do to him?” Clark would never admit even to himself what kind of answer he really wanted to hear right now.

 “My specialists have put him in a medically induced coma. It will be safer for everyone. Including him.” Lex smiled tightly, putting his hands in his pockets.

 “Lex—”

 «Clark, before you say anything, let me say it first: you're right.”

 Lex strode up the steps, not taking his gaze off the young man.

 “«I have to merge with him eventually, we were and we are to remain connected. We have existed together for as long as I can remember, and therefore it is fair to say that even longer than that.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “I just need some time.”

 Finally, Luthor caught up with Clark and smiled, looking into his eyes.

 “What are you going to do?” Kent asked suspiciously.

 “You see, Clark...” Lex turned on his heel and moved to the window. “As I was saying, we’ve always been together, and we always fought. A lot has changed in my life since I settled in Smallville. You appeared, your parents, Lana — so many good people. Suddenly I found myself stronger. Suddenly I realized that I could fight back against him. I began to see the world differently next to you. You were always there for me, even when I pushed you away. You've always miraculously helped me out in the last moment! Clark, you...” Lex turned to him swiftly. “You became my personal hero, my savior, in so many ways — you can't even imagine it.”

 Kent smiled awkwardly, still standing by the railing.

 “Being friends with you gave me the strength to fight him. At some point, it seemed to me that I could start with a clean slate, leaving my past under his rule behind.”

 “But?” Clark looked at Luthor, and he turned away, leaning his weight against the windowsill.

 “Yeah, this everliving "but"... No matter what happened to me in Belle Reve,” his voice hoarse, “no matter what was done to me at my father's behest, I felt that he became stronger than ever before. It was getting harder to resist him every day. He was crushing me. Under his rule, I have distanced myself from everyone, from you. He knew that this was what helped me resist. It was like he cut me off from oxygen and just waited for me to finally suffocate!”

 “Lex, I couldn't even imagine—”

 Luthor stopped him with a hand gesture.

 “It's okay, no one could. I didn't always understand it myself while whole. I see many things much more clearly now than I could before with him . It’s sad, yes... I know it can't ever be fixed. I also know that I can't get rid of him for good. As much as I hate to admit it, it's because of him that I'm still alive. He is too stubborn and angry to accept his fate and die. I just want to... I just want to find a way to weaken him, at least to the level that he was before Belle Reve. Anyway, at that time it seemed to me that I could hold him back.”

 “What kind of help do you need?”

 “What? Why are you—?” Lex looked around, confused, and then his gaze filled with understanding. “Right, I came here. You know, Clark, it always seemed to me that this problem of ours started from the very beginning.”

 Lex patted the windowsill with his palm, inviting. Clark looked at him blankly, but approached.

 “The only way I know how to be… friends is to be mutually beneficial. You give me, I give you. Only this way was communication clear to me, it is advisable. So now, I'd like to take the opportunity to fix this. Of course, you can always count on my help, but I would be glad to have informal meetings from time to time. Visits without a clear reason. In the Talon or… You said you like to watch the sunset from here. Perhaps you would like to watch it with me from the highest tower of the mansion? I'm sure this new experience will be no worse.”

 Clark stared at him in disbelief, not even trying to hide his feelings in any way.

 “Of course, if you have other plans—”

 “No! I mean, no, I don’t!” the young man started. “You… Er… You're right, this is something… new for... us. But… Yeah, why not, let's go. Now? I’ll let my parents know.”

 “Now. I know that this will not erase our recent past. I've undermined your trust, it's true,” Lex looked straight into his eyes. “All I'm asking for is another chance. I hope, Clark, that we can use this time while I'm here to get to know each other again.”

[soupedepates]

When I was a teenager, my father once took me by the shoulder and said: "Fryderyk, there are things a boy your age should know." My mother, God bless her, tried to raise me in the Catholic faith, with all the secrets around sexuality that will implies. At the time, I was sixteen. And, somehow, he must have known about the fact I was starting to see Zuza.

That being said, Zuza's mother put her on the pill as soon as she knew for us, and she was constantly giving me condoms when I was spending the night at their place. And Zuza, until we decided to have children together, used to be pernickety about taking the pill every day at the same hour.

Which means, despite my very limited sexual education only taught by my father, despite the fact we were both with a really high sex-drive, we never had a pregnancy scare.

Never.

So I must say I am disappointed to learn my son likely got his girlfriend pregnant when they are both seventeen. I won't tell his mother, it's not that I don't want to but she might kill him - even if he is still at the hospital. God damn it. He had an extensive education about contraception.

The worst thing is, I've learnt it by my niece. Since Zofia lives with my ex-MIL, and Noemi went to Danuta for advice. And I've also learnt that my very own daughter knew before me and kept it for herself.

I am, rightfully I hope, pissed.

As if I weren't already overwhelmed by the company, my father's Alzheimer and my youngest's behaviour.

But breathe in, breathe out. I brought flowers out of habits. We're divorced, but can't a man buy a bouquet for a close friend? Waiting for her at our usual coffee shop.

"Oh, hey! Oh, you cut your hair... It suits you well." "Thanks", she smiles. "It has gotten difficult to take care of it due to work and stress induced by Czcibor's situation, so it's better chopped off. Less work." "You look like a movie star", I say. "Oh, I've already ordered for me and I've guessed you would take your usual tea so I went ahead and..." "You're so kind, thanks Fryderyk..."

She looks so tired. So absent. And I know how stubborn she is, I won't worm anything out of her.

[anincompletelist]

get to know me tag! :D

OKAY @bigassbowlingballhead I am combining your tag with the ones from @littlemisskittentoes and @read-and-write- even though those were SO LONG AGO NOW but I realized I haven't ever really posted much about myself on here (unless you've followed me over from @soldouthaz ) sooooo HERE IS THAT? <3 thanks for the tags friends I loved reading about y'all!

First Set

Last Song: JAPANESE WHISKEY by Ruel

Last Film: No Hard Feelings jshdkjshd

Currently Reading:

the books sitting beside my laptop right now are:

- War of the Foxes / Richard Siken - Letters to Father / Franz Kafka - Time is a Mother / Ocean Vuong - On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous / Ocean Vuong - Devotions / Mary Oliver - The Cinnamon Peeler / Michael Ondaatje - Little Weirds / Jenny Slate

and fic-wise:

- I am hoping to finish the newest chapter of a sea of hope by acastle tonight - I just read A Thing of Beauty by @orchidscript last night (was wonderful!) - and I just compiled a list of all my January favorites here !

Currently Watching: The Bear is the next one up on my watch list if I ever manage to get around to it! love ayo so much!

Currently Consuming: a large diet coke from sonic skjhdkshd my beloved <3

Currently Craving: a cinnamon roll?

Three ships:

Firstprince

Sterek

I used to write Larry so I guess that counts? skjdhsdjkh

First Ship: oh gosh, I think sterek, but also technically Eddie and Loren from a show called Hollywood Heights when I was in middle school skjdhkjshd

+

Second Set

Were You Named After Anyone?

yes! the story of Sarah in the Old Testament of the Bible! she was described as faithful, loving, caring, stubborn (ha), and loyal, and also ties into my adoption story :)

When Was The Last Time You Cried?

oh gosh, several days ago, I think? it was my birthday skhdkjshd (no further explanation needed)

Do You Have Kids?

I do not, although I am the certified and confirmed 'Mom Friend'

What Sport Do/Have You You Played?

no <3

Do You Use Sarcasm?

not typically unless it's with someone I am very comfortable with. I work in a lot of mental health conscious areas and am studying to be a therapist so I try not to use any type of humor that could be negatively interpreted!

What's The First Thing You Notice About Other People?

usually body language! I'd say I pick up on energy fairly well, so that too, if applicable.

What's Your Eye Color?

blue! (surprise I am Henry)

Scary Movies or Happy Endings?

cannot watch scary movies, I have far too much anxiety in general to have a need to induce it intentionally jshdkjhs. it doesn't have to be a happy ending though, so long as the theme/lessons are well done. I adore digging into films and picking apart all of the layers and symbolism, so anything with some emotional weight is right up my alley! but I enjoy a bit of everything :)

Any Talents?

I'm a photographer both as a job and as a hobby, and I work part time as a makeup artist as well! I enjoy writing in my free time (obviously) and I like painting and drawing, although I definitely wouldn't consider myself very talented in those areas skjdhksd. honestly anything creative I will try and probably enjoy!

Where Where You Born?

Texas (I am Alex actually)

What Are Your Hobbies?

I touched on it earlier but photography, makeup, reading/writing, anything creative and anything psych related pretty much!

Do You Have Any Pets?

I have three! all dogs, two chihuahuas and a dachshund :)

How Tall Are You?

5'5? (I have been telling people my entire life I'm 5'7 and at my last doctor's visit they informed me that I was a liar!)

Favorite Subject in School?

english and psych!

Dream Job?

any place I can help people. I would love to be involved in a cause larger than myself while also getting to do something I'm passionate about, so anything from an english teacher to an editor to a therapist to volunteer work!

+

open tag to anyone who would like to share! <3

xx

[raayllum]

So we already knew this scene (Claudia and Viren’s talk about the portrait in early 1x03) paralleled their later conversation in 3x09 due to the “stand beside” thing. And indeed 1x03 had some fun foreshadowing of Claudia wanting to stop Viren’s death from happening even before she precisely knows what’s occurring (“If I would try to stop you, shouldn’t I just try to stop you even without knowing?” “Goodbye, Claudia”). However, last night I was overlooking this Claudia (+ Viren) edit I made and noticed that not only does Claudia line up with portrait Harrow in the shot, as well as critiquing him for a trait she has in spades (complete stubbornness and unwillingness to yield), she’s also standing like him. 

Obviously there’s the irony of Claudia being loyal to her father in ways that Viren and Harrow, ultimately, were not to each other due to the deterioration of their relationship over the years, with grief and dark magic at the heart of it. And of course, we have Claudia paralleling Viren’s role from 1x02 four seasons later in 4x02, with Viren placed in Harrow’s position: a father on limited time, forced to think about how he wants to spend it, and the dark mage pushing him to cheat death through dark magic (and any means necessary). 

It also helps highlight what seems like a clear wedge being driven between Viren and Claudia in S4 as well. Viren is hesitant to chase and elongate the life she has already dragged him back into; although happy, he’s also deeply sad and conflicted, particularly over her role in things. Claudia, meanwhile, steamrolls over him the same way she’d steamrolled over Soren in S2 and S3, down to pushing past their trauma induced epiphanies ( “I’m free to do what I want without expectations from Dad, or anyone” 2x08 / “I’ve spent my life chasing after things I didn’t have [...] Maybe it’s just time to accept that I am who I am” 4x02). 

And, because TDP adores it’s irony, if Viren in S5 is driven to fully doubt and veer from their quest, you would of course have Claudia, who has almost always listened to him (with 2x07 and her brother one of the big exceptions) when she shouldn’t have, flat refusing to listen to him the one time she actually should.

[the-only-authority]

Authority,

You are the last person I have yet to send an apology to. This was on purpose. If I'm going to be honest, you are actually extremely intimidating and therefore the most anxiety-inducing when I have wronged you. Which I have. Repeatedly.

Much of the points here are the same as Suggestion's, though I will repeat them anyway for clarity. ("Or I will live, or bathe my dying honour in the blood, shall make it live again..." For some reason, I keep thinking of that quote when I talk to you. Maybe it is fitting here.)

Repeatedly -- in fact, from the very beginning -- I have assassinated your character, disgracing and ridiculing you with no reason to do so whatsoever. Admittedly, I do find it difficult to navigate what you would and would not find disrespectful. But by this point, I should be able to understand the general fact that my ignominy is highly dishonourable. I know our stubborn attitudes may clash at times, but regardless of this, I should know by now to not question you on these sorts of matters.

Furthermore, like Suggestion, I should *not* have allowed myself to fall into that trap of disregarding how you would have felt to have seen an impostor taking on your mannerisms and making extremely violating claims; and I should have owned up to what I had done earlier on to prevent this from simmering for so long. That was horrible and absolutely revolting of me to do.

I am thankful that you did not List me for this. I'd like to be able to stay off that list. If there is anything I can do to have my name cleared, anything I can do to pay reparations for my transgressions, please. I give you the same offer I presented to Suggestion; say the words and I will complete the task given to the best of my ability.

I should also note that I'm extremely thankful for the support you have cast my way. Not just in recent -- by taking one of my entries off the List after I confronted Rhetoric, by defending my temporary stint as a Psyche skill (even if that was a stupid idea) even against your second-in-command, by encouraging me to remember how to do my job in order to help Savoir Faire -- but also in general. I still think of your guarding during my shut-down, back during the secret admirer debacle, you know. I am in complete debt to you. I'm serious about this. I feel horrible for my behaviour in light of this.

I don't expect you to accept any apologies here; all I seek is to form a foundation for me to build respect in your eyes back up again. (Hopefully this hasn't been too grovel-y for that. My words here are honest. I have learned from my previous bouts of miscommunication with others.)

I hope that eventually we will be on speaking terms once more. I have made a pledge to improve my behaviour and intend to enact this moving forward.

Trick-or-treat, Authority.

With all due respect, @in-omni-scientia

I can respect someone owning up to their mistakes, even if your groveling here makes it hard in your specific case. I suppose, as you pointed out, that just comes with the territory of speaking to me, as I am of intimidating statue and mind.

Furthermore, I am nothing but merciful - you must have noticed, that I have allowed dialogue between us in the past days - more than you deserved at that point.

When I support you, I do my job. You should remember doing yours even in situation where you get... distracted.

You are not getting off the List competely. I will take this into account, however. There have to be some calculations, considering that you messaged me "last", however.

As a show of good will I am going to use the text editing tools recently discovered by me to give criticism on your meandering, lengthy letter:

Authority,

You are the last person I have yet to send an apology to. This was on purpose. If I'm going to be honest, you are actually extremely intimidating and therefore the most anxiety-inducing when I have wronged you. Which I have. Repeatedly.

Much of the points here are the same as Suggestion's, though I will repeat them anyway for clarity. ("Or I will live, or bathe my dying honour in the blood, shall make it live again..." For some reason, I keep thinking of that quote when I talk to you. Maybe it is fitting here.)

Repeatedly -- in fact, from the very beginning -- I have assassinated your character, disgracing and ridiculing you with no reason to do so whatsoever. Admittedly, I do find it difficult to navigate what you would and would not find disrespectful. But by this point, I should be able to understand the general fact that my ignominy is highly dishonourable. I know our stubborn attitudes may clash at times, but regardless of this, I should know by now to not question you on these sorts of matters.

Furthermore, like Suggestion, I should *not* have allowed myself to fall into that trap of disregarding how you would have felt to have seen an impostor taking on your mannerisms and making extremely violating claims; and I should have owned up to what I had done earlier on to prevent this from simmering for so long. That was horrible and absolutely revolting of me to do.

I am thankful that you did not List me for this. I'd like to be able to stay off that list. If there is anything I can do to have my name cleared, anything I can do to pay reparations for my transgressions, please. I give you the same offer I presented to Suggestion; say the words and I will complete the task given to the best of my ability.

I should also note that I'm extremely thankful for the support you have cast my way. Not just in recent -- by taking one of my entries off the List after I confronted Rhetoric, by defending my temporary stint as a Psyche skill (even if that was a stupid idea) even against your second-in-command, by encouraging me to remember how to do my job in order to help Savoir Faire -- but also in general. I still think of your guarding during my shut-down, back during the secret admirer debacle, you know. I am in complete debt to you. I'm serious about this. I feel horrible for my behaviour in light of this.

I don't expect you to accept any apologies here; all I seek is to form a foundation for me to build respect in your eyes back up again. (Hopefully this hasn't been too grovel-y for that. My words here are honest. I have learned from my previous bouts of miscommunication with others.)

I hope that eventually we will be on speaking terms once more. I have made a pledge to improve my behaviour and intend to enact this moving forward.

Trick-or-treat, Authority.

With all due respect, @in-omni-scientia

[pykanico]

Day 14 - Working Late

Fic if you want to read every posted day : https://archiveofourown.org/works/51386731/chapters/129854215

Emmet was in other words bored, not like it was such a big deal to be bored, but what can he say, it is in his nature to be mischievous and active, and today it was way too boring for his liking, he was also getting tired and would like to go to sleep soon.

Ingo was stuck finishing the paper work – including his – while Emmet, on the other hand, finished a while ago their maintenance routine, That meant that he needed to wait for Ingo before going home for the night, He knew that he could go home now, but the idea to leave his brother alone was not what wanted…. He could only sigh and stay half lying on his own office table glaring at the pile of paper still on his Twin’s table on the other side of the room, He was feeling veerrrry miserable.

“Ingooooo” He Called out, Ingo letting out a not so comical hum to confirm he was listening but still didn’t look away from whatever paper he was completing. “Are you finished yet??”

“I have not finished yet Emmet, if it is getting too long I would advise you to go home, I need to finish all of that today”

He could only complain about his brother's decision to continue his work like that “and it is getting late, you can finish them tomorrow too. It is not a good idea to overwork your machinery yup”

“Do not worry Emmet, I have made all my safety check, I know what I am doing”

Emmet could only groan at that, He knew Ingo could do that today, That does not mean Emmet wanted that, knowing his twin, by the time Ingo would finish his work, it would be midnight at best, Why does he need to be the responsible one in this, Why Ingo must be such a workaholic?

After some minutes of staring at his brother writing, finishing a paper, going to the next one he needed to finish, hoping that he would change his mind soon enough, Emmet finally decided that enough was enough, he got up suddenly, a determined look in his eyes, the sound of the chair seemingly disturbing Ingo induce work – good – who throw a look at Emmet full of confusion.

He walked faster in the direction of his stubborn brother before this one could be hit by the realization of what Emmet was going to do, and when he realized it, it was too late.

Emmet didn’t look like it but he was strong, Being a Zoroark does have some advantages compared to being a human, so he could only let out a sharp laugh at Ingo yelp, his poor brother carried like a potato bag on his shoulder.

“Emmet!? Let me down!”

"No, I am Emmet, and I decide that you need an emergency stop, We going home"

Ingo tried to fight his way out, while Emmet was already walking out of their share office with a big smile even if he was struggling to not lose his grip. “Emmet!!! Really, let me finish one last paper, that's not going to take that long really”

“Shush, you need to rest, the paper will not disappear”

Ignoring the complaints of Ingo who after a moment finally stopped moving, sighing a bit, Emmet took that as a win, Ingo finally understood that he couldn't do anything against him, like usual, the satisfaction was even better when his brother mutter loudly in defeat.

“Fine, you have a good point, I need to rest my cab to be more efficient tomorrow, Can you at least let me down, This is quite an embarrassing display”

“Of course, dear brother of mine” He could nearly see Ingo rolling his eyes fondly before finally getting on his feet, just a bit disoriented.

“I sometimes wonder how you can display such strength, That is always a surprise every time you proceed to do such things”

Emmet couldn't stop his giggle hearing that, amusement sparkling in his eyes “Yup, you have no idea brother”

Ingo stared Emmet for a moment, looking at him with curiosity, before talking with such enthusiasm that Emmet could only smile more.

“Would you like some tea before going to bed”

“I would verrrrry much like it!”

[courtofmatchups]

ooo could i possibly get an obey me matchup? :) i’m an aries, entp, bi, she/they pronouns

i’m about 5’8 with shoulder length hair that’s relatively straight. i like to wear crop tops and high waisted stuff, my fashion taste is pretty androgynous overall and is kind of an 80s/90s vibe. i almost never wear makeup or do my hair. and i’m always bumping into things so i have several bruises at any given time

i make comics and i’m a grad student TA. i have a caffeine addiction and the sense of humor of a 12 year old boy. i’m known for my ability to remain calm and optimistic, and also for being relatively quiet but when i do speak it’s always something out of pocket. i’m not shy i just don’t got shit to say. i love to help people and also make them laugh and/or cry with my art

hobbies/interests/likes: gossiping, funny movies, making playlists, singing/karaoke, acting, writing screenplays and songs, drawing/animating, traveling, going on walks/hikes, sending cursed images in the groupchat, and every animal in the world except dogs and spiders. love any excuse to wear some sort of costume or goofy outfit

dislikes: i hateeee cooking it’s so boring. also hate being dirty i can’t function when i feel gross. not a fan of loud music or weed/cig smell either so i don’t go to parties/clubs often. i have massive sensory issues when it comes to bad smells. i dislike routine too i love change and challenging norms. i couldn’t be with someone who gets secondhand embarrassment easily cuz i’ll be weird in public and not care. in fact i’d hope that my partner would join me

my red flags are i’m terrified of aging and being undesirable and there is not a single body part that i haven’t been insecure about at some point. i’m stubborn and i’m a complainer i love kvetching about random shit. i am rather skittish and look scared/confused all the time like a wild rabbit. i don’t bring much to the table tbh but i can make you laugh i am always eager to try new things and my heart is true. i imagine i’d be pretty low maintenance in a relationship, as long as u are nice to me and don’t cheat on me we’re good

It seems to me you have captured the heart of...

The Scummy Second-Born,

Mammon!

:0

Someone who is chaotic as he is?? And smart as hell?? He's already interested. And as he learns more about you, that interest soon spirals into infatuation. But Mammon, being the tsundere he is, will try to deny these feelings, and ultimately fail. You're just *that* charming

Your sense of humour is what stands out to him the most. It's a little juvenile, but that's what he likes (Lucifer, prepare yourself for some bad joke induced migraines). And your calm and optimistic nature is something he can get behind. And when you say something completely unhinged, it might take him aback at first, but it'll grow on him

A lot of his interests line up with yours, like karaoke and movies, so you can expect him to take you to karaoke palours and to movie theatres. If it ever gets to crowded or too noisy, he'll get you someplace calmer and quieter as soon as possible. He'll notice it pretty quickly, as he's pretty observant, especially when it comes to you (in a wholesome way that doesn't make you feel like you're being viewed under a microscope, that is)

Whenever the two of you are apart, you can expect him to send you lots of cursed images to you also. Of course, you cannot forget about the unhinged yet wholesome texts you send to each other

You draw comics? Mammon LOVES that about you too, so please, draw a silly little comic about your misadventures. He's not gonna sell them though. You made those comics especially for him. As money-hungry as he is, those comics hold a special place in his heart.

He can understand your distaste for being dirty (he lives with Asmo after all), so he'll send you care packages with cute little soaps, shampoos, and different body lotions

You don't have to worry about Mammon ever cheating on you, as he's clingy as hell

If you ever overwork yourself from a caffeine-induced high (being a grad student TA is no walk in the park), he's gonna drag you to sleep. Please do not resist

In a nutshell, your relationship would look like this:

[northofallmusic]

for fem wenzhou week i am... providing you with sections of fics i would love to write, but which would clearly be 10k. first up: a real haunted house of a story, for the prompt "sacrifice".

This is a messy one, based on zzs's guilt about liang jiuxiao's fate & wkx's brief impulse to destroy zzs's martial arts during the puppet manor arc, and it's about what you do and don't do to keep another person. it's also about zzs being mildly possessed maybe and hallucinating about a world in which she broke ljx in an entirely different way. reality unravels bit by bit. but also did you know wenzhou are in love!!

this snippet is about 800 words. enjoy(?) some vibes

cn: mutilation, manipulation, hallucination, vomiting, a certain amount of gore

She holds the girl by the hair. Fingers tight to the scalp, so tight that torn flesh has lodged below her fingers. She holds the knife easily. The girl thinks her throat will be slit. Zhou Zishu presses the point of the blade in. In and in. It sinks through cartilage, and then through the delicate inner space where the voice lives. The girl gurgles and thrashes. 

After, Zhou Zishu sits her down on the step of the house. She crouches before her, takes her hands.

She breaks the fingers one by one.

She kisses the girl's pale knuckles. She wipes her tears away.

"Good girl, Jiuxiao," she says. "You see? You don't need to worry about whether to tell my secrets or not. You're safe—"

And wakes wishing that she wanted to vomit. It would be nice to be human enough for that, for horror to routinely induce nausea. 

In reality, I would have drugged her until she could never speak again, she thinks. If it had been like that. A knife—really.

After breakfast, she does spend some time retching—but that's just the nails working on her insides, making her body reject food. Her bile splatters across the snow outside the manor, melting it slightly.

She sighs, kicks more snow over it until it's hidden from sight.

Lunch is bland and warming.

"It's because we're running out of food," Wen Kexing says, with a decisive sort of untruth which suggests that she's learning to pick her battles.

"It's your job to make sure we have enough," Zhou Zishu says. She sips at the thin soup which is apparently what Wen Kexing thinks Zhou Zishu's stomach can take.

"It's my job to do everything," Wen Kexing says, with a smile which is too flirtatious for the context. "It's just too much for me, A-Xu."

Zhou Zishu's insides twist around the nails.

Jiuxiao sits on the edge of the manor's roof, swinging her legs like a little girl.

"It's slippery," Zhou Zishu says. "Don't fall."

Jiuxiao shrugs. 

Blood is crusted at the corners of her mouth, and all down her front. 

"Come here," Zhou Zishu says. 

Jiuxiao doesn't. She's in a stubborn mood. 

Zhou Zishu clambers up to join her instead, and washes her face. 

"Doesn't your shijie always look after you?" she says. "Don't be like this."

Jiuxiao ignores her. She shuffles away, further out, until only her broken hands are keeping her balanced right on the edge of the roof. 

"Don't—" Zhou Zishu says—

Her feet slip on the ice-covered roof—in reality, in the waking world—she wakes—

Begins to laugh hysterically, even as she's wrenching her body away from the edge. A dream of falling indeed.

There are hasty footsteps—the door slides open below—how good of Zhou Zishu's sleeping body to close the door after itself.

"A-Xu?" Wen Kexing calls.

"I just needed some air," Zhou Zishu calls—not because she feels she can't tell Wen Kexing what happened, but but because she doesn't yet understand what it was.

"Come down," Wen Kexing says. "Oh, you're not dressed properly at all. Come, come, I'll make tea."

"I'd rather have wine," Zhou Zishu says. She jumps down from the roof, brushes herself off. Her body twinges as she lands, not from the drop but from the way the nails gnaw at her.

"Wine, then," Wen Kexing says.

They drink wine together in the room they share, the room Wen Kexing has invited herself into and shows no sign of leaving. 

"Come here," Wen Kexing says. She dabs wine from the corner of Zhou Zishu's mouth, and now Zhou Zishu is the one balancing precariously on the edge of a roof. Is the one who can't speak.

A person can break another person easily. 

Jiuxiao is training grimly in the courtyard, as though she will ever leave Zhou Zishu's home again. One more caged person. A sacrifice.

"You don't have what it takes at all," Zhou Zishu says. She sounds very cruel to her own ears. She circles around Jiuxiao. This isn't right, is it? She didn't treat Jiuxiao like this, did she?"

This is a dream. Zhou Zishu takes Jiuxiao by the wrist, pulls her indoors. The indoors is as cold as the outdoors. 

"Shifu?" Chengling asks, tremulous.

It's her narrow wrist in Zhou Zishu's grasp. 

Bent over around her aching stomach, retching, Zhou Zishu considers poisons. Hallucinogens, she thinks. Is the increased nausea a side effect of drugging, or is it only another thing her body is doing because it is dying?

If the nausea is a side effect, then which drugs?

If it is not, then which drugs?

Correct for location, connections. Correct for durability. 

She kneels, panting. That she can reach no definite conclusion is perhaps the most troubling thing.

[cr-noble-writes]

Title: By The Stars

Series: I’ve Got You

Fandom: Mass Effect

Characters: Alex Shepard, Reyes Vidal, Chief Green (OC)

Relationships: Shepard & Reyes, Shepard/Reyes (pre-slash)

Tags: preslash, basic training, land nav test, impromptu rock climbing, celestial navigation, near death experiences, overuse of biotics, food shortage, best friends, spanish, arabic, egyptian, stolen supplies, hypoglycemia, i know i am pushing the bounds of reality with a couple of things here, military exercises, physical danger, rock climbing, biotics to the rescue, worried Reyes, stubborn Alex, biotic drain induced shock, huddling for warmth, there was only one blanket, sabotage, caretaker Reyes, short rations, navigating by stars, fuck the man (the bad man, not the sexy Chilean one), running on spite, unspoken feelings

Summary: Alex Shepard and Reyes Vidal are nearing the end of basic training, and it's time for their land navigation test. Unfortunately, Alex’s biotic field interferes with the compass, someone’s stolen most of his rations, there’s a cliff between them and the extraction point, and no one packed climbing equipment.

Notes: This was supposed to be a 1k-ish snapshot of part of Alex’s experiences in basic training to be included in another fic. But apparently that wasn’t enough for these two jackasses. Anyway, as a result of having to write this fic, Reyes and Alex’s relationship has developed into something significantly more serious than it was originally intended to be. It was always intended to be more than friends, but it was supposed to be something resembling casual and then Alex had to go and have feelings.” Hope you enjoy :D

I do have several 1k-ish snapshots of other things in basic training, like Alex and Reyes meeting for the first time, etc, but this really felt like the most important bit, so I wanted to get it out there! Plus, it's gonna be a hot minute until I have any more of Alex's canon story ready to post, so I figure those little snapshots can fill the void in my soul while I am working on the next big part.

Thank you to all the people in the various ME servers I’m part of on Discord for all of the encouragement and help! Special thanks, as always, to @imbiowaresbitch​ for always being willing to let me talk at her, and also for making me like Reyes in the first place, and additional thank yous to @nickelkeep​ and @bleuzombie​ for putting up with me just constantly ranting about Mass Effect and Alex, in particular!

Like Growing Pains, there is some Arabic used by Alex, and translations will be provided in the end notes. Likewise for the one actual Spanish phrase Reyes says.

Make sure you check the A/N on AO3 for links to the AO3 pages of everyone who helped me with this fic!