#I'm going to be stuck in my head forever even if my circumstances change

[tidepoolalgae]

.

[luciantapes]

The forgotten child

Pairing's : fem! reader x peter parker, tony stark daughter! x tony stark, tony stark daughter! x peter parker

Warnings: really sad angst, jealousy, daddy issues, neglect, lmk if i missed anything! :)

Summary: dad of the year award? surely isn't going too him

a/n : I know the gif doesn't really match the theme of this story I just really liked it. I did not reread this so please ignore any grammar mistakes. Also, I'm not sure if i wrote a panic attack correctly but I wrote based on what their like for me. hope you all enjoy!

you really tried not to become the forgotten child, always tried you're very hardest to live up to your father expectations, trying to make him proud in hope's he'd show some form of attention.

always studying to get straight a's even through countless anxiety attacks from fear of failing and disappointing your father.

all you ever wanted was reassurance, and if you ever got lucky enough a "You did a good job" after getting a high score on a test.

but it never came, it would forever be something you longed to hear. he would usually just mumble a small, quiet "congrats" as his mind stayed focused on his work and his eyes stuck to the blueprint laid out on the table Infront of him.

you always tried you're best not to feel jealous whenever your father held morgan, you had no ressentiment towards morgan whatsoever, in fact she was the one that kept you smiling most days. although you couldn't help but feel your heart tighten from jealousy as you watched them have daddy daughter time

you really did try you're best to be happy for your younger sister, but you couldn't ignore that aching feeling. all you wanted was the attention she had that your heart ached so desperately for, but it never came despite your countless attempts.

you we're astound to hear a new avenger had been recruited, you always enjoyed meeting new people. mainly because they gave you attention they didn't even know you craved.

you always seeked to see the best in people, no matter what the circumstances we're. including peter parker, there was nothing wrong with him, he wasn't a bad person in fact quite a good one, and if you weren't so envious of him you possibly could have been friends with the boy. but you watched how peter and your father clicked so easily becoming like father and son.

it made the knots in your stomach tighten as you watched them spend time together, it made you feel as if something was wrong with you, like maybe if you tried harder or changed, he'd give you the attention you deserved.

your mother, pepper always said he loved you just as much as he loved morgan or even peter, but you knew the truth as much as you ignored it you knew. but oh, how you wish he did.

"Mom, I'm home" you called out knowing if father was home, he wouldn't answer you. after not receiving an answer, you decided to look through the house in search of your mother, after a couple of minutes searching you still hadn't found her and decided she probably went out and took morgan with her. you heard talking but it sounded like your father, and peter?? "what's peter doing here?" you wondered. you decided to peak you're head through the door and saw peter and tony standing with their backs faced away from you, working on some upgrades for peter's suit.

"you're a pretty great kid peter" tony told him as he smiled at him patting his shoulder. a wave of jealously hit your chest as you watched them, your throat tightening. "Thank you, Mr. stark," peter smiled cheekily as your fingers clenched into a fist at your side.

"Becoming like my son."

once those words left Tony's lips, your mouth went dry, your head aching as you backed away from the door as quietly as possible, you're breathing picking up rapidly. you quickly made your way to your room, tears forming in your eyes, you walked into your room and shut the door softly as your hands started shaking as you paced around your room quickly, trying to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks. you never liked crying, it made you feel weak.

you're breathing came out in heavy gasp as you struggled to breathe. you leaned against the wall coughing as you squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to stop the words from replaying in your mind.

"Becoming like my son" continuously echoed through your head as soft sobs left your lips, you didn't want to feel this way, envious of what your father and peter had. it's not peter's fault about what your father feels about you so why hold him accountable. he'll never love you, at least not like he loves peter. you can't figure out why? you always tried you're best to impress him, but nothing seemed to be enough for him, it's like he didn't even care about your existence.

you stumbled over to your bed, taking deep breathes as your body grew exhausted from crying. you plopped down on your bed tiredly as you snuggled up against your blanket that was where your pillows we're supposed to be, you grabbed a pillow and hugged it too sleep.

you didn't want to put the blame on peter because it wasn't his fault, but a little piece of your heart blamed peter parker.

a/n: CLIFFHANGER!?!? I decided to leave it for now because I haven't come up with an ending that I thought fit the way I wanted so if you guys have ideas, please let me know. reblog's are highly appreciated, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

[randomlywanderingmoth]

Ah, nuts to it, I'm not letting this one simmer in my head forever.

Fanservant: Tam Lin Bedivere

Servant Class: Saber

In a distant land, a Lostbelt- no, a Lostworld called Faerie Britain, the there was once a Savior named Aesc. She had companions, tried to save this Lostworld, failed, and the tyrant Queen Morgan rose. Visitors to this Lostworld witnessed her tyranny, fought her, slew her, and- if you know of Faerie Britain you know the specifics of this story, the ways it might be inaccurate, and so on.

However, the Kaleidoscope, the observation of infinite possibilities, is a funny thing, that observes differences in timelines. In the timeline you know, the story is as it is.

Tam Lin Bedivere is not from the timeline you know.

In another time, Aesc the Savior had one more companion than was commonly listed- a fae squire that became a fairy knight, the one called Tam Lin Bedivere. When Aesc died, Bedivere went missing- and it is commonly believed that the fairy knight's grief contributed to the circumstances of her reappearance, as the tyrant Queen Morgan's first knight.

Tam Lin Bedivere. The Loyal Knight of Autumn. A seemingly simplistic knight, adorned in armor like pale bone, or old grey wood, wielding a dread rapier of divine light, cutting down every Mors she comes across, in a near unbreaking vigil to end the threats to Faerie Britain. Gentle voiced but stern, and would always spirit those in danger away to safety.

The truth is several times over. Firstly, her armor, similar to the armor you might think reminiscent of a certain Lion King of Knights, was fashioned from the "bark" carved from A Certain Tree. Secondly, her sword was a gift, given to her by the Savior Aesc- originally a hefty spear, Tam Lin Bedivere fashioned it closer to a sword that would retract into the gauntlet of her right arm in golden coils. Due to the manner in which it was reforged, that sword is also capable of reforming as its wielder needs, extending in length and twisting around shields.

Thirdly, to dispel any notions, in spite of her proud, long, flowing autumn hair, and elsewise appearance, Tam Lin Bedivere is not the one you might recognize as Fujimaru Ritsuka.

She might have been, once. A long, long time ago. Two thousand and four hundred years ago, in fact. But once, in the present, the girl named Fujimaru Ritsuka was overcome with an irrational desire to protect- and thus displaced her Servant, and took the Water Mirror herself.

That Water Mirror sent that girl back, two thousand and four hundred years- but that is not what affected her. No, it was the combination of circumstance. The girl had no mana left in her body from a terrible fight with a terrible foe in Norwich Harbor, and furthermore she no longer had the protection of Shielder.

In that circumstance, she was like a sponge, absorbing the local mana- and that changed her rapidly and irrevocably, and subtly enough that even she did not notice herself.

And so, the girl became a changeling faerie. And so, she knew she could not return. And so, she remained with the Savior Aesc.

And over the years, and decades, and centuries, and millenia, she cultivated her mana, and her technique, and loyally served. Because that was all that she could do, because that was all that was left for her to do. Because she could not go home anymore.

And over those years, those decades, those centuries, those millenia, she forgot what she once was.

... is that really the truth, though?

PARAMETERS:

Strength: B

Endurance: A

Agility: B

Mana: A++

Luck: C

NP: EX

SKILLS:

Territory Creation (EX Rank): It is less to say that Tam Lin Bedivere is capable of calling forth a territory and using it; rather, a constant Bounded Field surrounds her and the area immediately around her. In ancient times, the effect was provided by her armor, but over thousands of years the effect has "stuck" to her. The nature of this Bounded Field "defines" Tam Lin Bedivere, near-absolutely. As such, her Parameters cannot be altered in any way by outside sources (detrimentally, or beneficially). In addition, any mana she expends, as long as it remains within this Bounded Field, will return to her almost immediately. Furthermore, this defined space protects her against all forms of unnatural attack, acting similarly to a Magic Resistance of A+ Rank. Lastly, allegedly, the Bounded Field would even protect Tam Lin Bedivere from ontological phenomena, such as erasure by paradox. However, such protection would surely be of extraneous value at best.

Riding (C+ Rank): One method of travel for Tam Lin Bedivere is to make her sword as large as possible, throw it like a javelin, and hop aboard, surfing across the sky. That alone should speak to her Riding skill. She calls the technique the Remix Arash Express, although even she cannot say as though why she would call it that.

Mana Burst (A++ Rank): Tam Lin Bedivere has an utterly extraordinary amount of mana, as well as the ability to manipulate it near effortlessly. Apocryphally, that unbelievable supply was gifted to her by Aesc the Savior, for her attempt to learn the nature of the Great Pit at the center of Faerie Britain. One direct manner by which she can crush threats to her Queen is to funnel a titanic amount of mana into her sacred sword; in a pinch, she can also channel that mana into her gauntlets or greaves. Even the unparalleled warrior Wryneck was said to quake at the notion of challenging her sheer force output.

Mind's Eye (True) (A Rank): Over thousands of years, Tam Lin Bedivere has fought threats to the Lostworld of Faerie Britain- from the Mors, to rogue elements. Over that combat she has accrued incredible battlefield awareness.

Fairy Knight of Autumn (B+ Rank): Tam Lin Bedivere was one of Queen Morgan's loyal knights, leading her own contingent in the battle against the Mors. Her unusual valor inspired the soldiers in her charge, acting similar to a Charisma skill. However, her true value comes in the certainty with which she fights. Her mind never folds under pressure, regardless of the odds or circumstances, whether it be fighting a tide of Mors, stalling a Calamity, or cutting down traitors to her Queen. It is said she has only ever faltered twice- both times against the foreign knight called "Tam Lin Galahad".

NOBLE PHANTASM:

Claiomh Solais: Sacred Sword, Light of Judgment

In the mythology of Pan-Human history, Claiomh Solais was the mythic sword of the equally mythic war god Nuadha. Chaldeas logs indicate that the heroic spirit known as Bedivere co-opted the legend of Nuadha's Silver Arm, Airgetlam. It is only appropriate that his Tam Lin counterpart would co-opt his shining sword.

Originally an iteration of the Sacred Spear Rhongomyniad, it was passed from the Savior Aesc to the Tam Lin Bedivere, and fashioned into a sword, that retracts to form the gauntlet and the armor of her right arm. When invoked, the Faerie Knight of Autumn could call down a gleaming pillar of light from the heavens, obliterating anything before her.

At one point, in this timeline, it was deflected by Mash Kyrielight, and irreversibly destroyed Tam Lin Bedivere's helmet, thus exposing her face to the public for the first time in over two thousand years.

Over the course of events, after Queen Morgan's death, she was bade to join the Chaldeans in their descent to Avalon, and bear witness to the forming of Excalibur in the Lostworld. This imprint of Excalibur was then given to her, and fused with her own sword- thus completing the sword known as Claiomh Solais.

In the better known timeline, this was followed by Artoria Caster's sacrifice to fell Cernunnos, and some other things. In this timeline, things are slightly reversed- it is Tam Lin Bedivere who sacrifices her life to fell Cernunnos, and Artoria Caster who survived, was devoured alongside the Chaldeans by the Abyssal Worm, called forth the memory of a kindly knight, and defeated Oberon Vortigern.

"O light from the Inner Sea, I bid you rise. O judgment from the Ends of the World, I bid you descend. No wrongness or evil may remain before my blade! CLAIOMH SOLAIS!"

[renardtrickster]

There really is no bottom for the Green Horse, is there

As part of my ongoing campaign to be understanding towards people who will never in 12,000 years provide a fraction of the same level of charitability towards me, yeah he's basically cooked forever. It's not an innate thing, I have a low opinion on him, and his intelligence, and his ability to take criticism or consider new information, and his ability to not freak the fuck out when agitated and start CAPS LOCK SCREAMING AT PEOPLE HE DISAGREES WITH, but it's not because his brain is broken. Consider the following:

From what I recall, he lives in the South, was raised (and still is) Christian, and I think even alluded to his parents being not that positively receptive to the possibility of him being bisexual. So he's been inundated with conservative beliefs basically from birth.

The inundation continues to his online life. For at least a decade he's been embroiled in right-wing discourse, exposing himself to arguments with "SJWs", caricatures of what Föminists believe, all designed to confirm the existing biases while cementing in your head that "the other" is basically delusional or dishonest and not worth considering. Once you've been in this rut for years, you need to devise a *reason* to not keep doing what you've been doing and what's always worked for you.

All of his peers are similarly conservative, or "classical liberal" at the most. Once I broke with common consensus and started railing against him, everyone instantly turned, mutualisms were broken, respect was lost, I became persona non grata. I was not the first, nor the last. He also tends to conceptualize ex-friends and ex-mutuals as "betrayers". Basically his social circle ensures that everyone will basically agree on most things, or else be ousted and mocked. Which, if you don't have other social circles to fall back on, can be another reason to not change your mind. Isolation is a killer.

He's never been the most skeptical of whatever he reblogs. I've seen, on multiple occasions, him reblog a post that reads something to the effect of "city-dwellers don't have souls, if you don't stand in a field barefoot you become spiritually retarded". And when his friends point out "dude this is asinine" he reblogs that as well, equal amounts of no commentary. In and out.

The internet, and society, has slowly gotten more radicalized over time. This Haitians Eating Cats thing would have been unthinkable in 2016, but he's already under the operation of "the left is always wrong, the Republicans aren't *that* bad and they're treated unfairly".

He already believes in Cultural Marxism, the Deep State, and that the 2020 election was stolen. The only reason he doesn't believe in the "trans groomer epidemic" is because he's queer and has trans friends, but even then he sure was charitable towards DeSantis and denied that it was a "don't say gay" bill.

With all of this in mind, why *wouldn't* he believe that immigrants from Haiti (who are mostly Christian) went to Ohio so they could steal people's pets and perform voodoo rituals? He's basically stuck himself inside The Contraption. It is a hell of his own creation, all working perfectly as designed, in order to make him not smart and keep him from being able to accurately assess anything. The only ambiguity is whether it's malicious ignorance or genuine ignorance, but it's mostly academic. I can't tell you his internal thought process or what his heart is. All I can tell you is that, at the very least, even if he is a "proper" left-of-center guy, he does not have the proper intellectual rigor to prevent himself from going along with whatever fascist argument or lie that he stumbles upon. He lacks the discipline to *prevent* himself from becoming a fascist, if that makes sense.

These are the conditions and circumstances that can create a mindscape like this. But lest you be mistaken and think I'm portraying him as a victim of circumstance, I'll repeat what I alluded to before. There are "understandable" (as in "they can be comprehended and explained, even if they're wrong, which they are") reasons for why people become groypers or nazis. Functionally, he is stuck in the alt-right pipeline, trapped in that onion cult model thing. His posts are even indistinguishable from that of the average nazi's, he was doing the "Tim Walz gargles horse semen" thing. As though that's a bad thing, when he thinks Rarity is best pony. Curious.

Which is the important thing to take away from this, I think. takashi0 is not a notable or exceptional person in this regard. "Notable" in the sense that his only real presence outside of tumblr is a kiwifarms thread (and twitter I guess), "exceptional" in the sense that this exact same song and dance has happened to thousands of other people, mostly young men, frequently homosexual, always mentally ill. I guess he's "a very popular anti-SJW/alt-right blogger on tumblr", but this describes many other people who I do not know the names or backstories of. The only reason why I or anyone else possesses this knowledge is because of a passing personal connection, which has by this point ended. Having beef with him is like having beef with any of the 5 nameless MAGA Toms, Dicks, and Larries at the top of your blocklist.

Keeping up with him is interesting in the sense that he's a part of a broader trend, "what talking points do the moderate wing of online reactionary thought think is acceptable to say", but it's almost demeaning to be any more personally invested beyond that. He's not going to see this because he has me blocked, but if he does he'll be bitter about it for a week, and come to the conclusion "well Renardie says stuff like that because she's brainwashed, like all lefty commies are" because his analytical abilities are capped around there. He's beneath me, and so is his ideology. Once that's consigned to the dustbin of political irrelevancy, so too will he vanish. In that respect, paying him any mind is pointless self harm. I only indulged in my very quick research today due to a moment of weakness and sick curiosity. My reward was a lack of surprise.

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

'Stuck' for the writing prompts, for whoever you'd like to write about! (--@space-writes)

@space-writes I'm so sorry this took forever--I changed ideas twice before just deciding to continue with the Isaac/Kinslayer theme. So, uh, hope you enjoy gay stuff happening on a ship?

From this list of sexy prompt asks

Words: 2,493

Summary: While exploring the lower decks of a beached shipwreck, Isaac tries an unconventional shortcut. He doesn't regret it, not exactly.

Content Advisory: Possible claustrophobia trigger (being stuck/trapped in an enclosed space), suggestive touching, teasing, power dynamics play, spanking, look the first part of this is pretty silly, I'll mark the spot where things become spicier later on for those who want to opt out, and include an advisory about the sexy stuff beneath that cut off point

It was the first time Isaac had ever seen Kinslayer look surprised. As soon as they’d come through the watertight door and saw him their brows shot up—their mouth even fell open a bit. Given the circumstances, he couldn’t exactly congratulate himself.

“Help,” Isaac said, voice tiny.

They crossed the room, boots clomping on steel grating, until they stood in front of him. “The hell happened to you, bookworm?”

He tried to sigh, but the pressure around his ribs when he inhaled that deeply was too much. “I was trying to get back to the upper decks…”

“Uh-huh.”

“…but I got turned around somehow. All these ship passageways look alike.”

“That much I figured when you started calling for me with your thoughts. But why’re you halfway sticking out of the goddamn bulkhead?”

How good was their night vision? Good enough not to need a flashlight, apparently, but hopefully not enough to see how embarrassed he looked. “Well. Uh. I was looking for, er, the way out. And I happened to peek through that, that tube thingy with the metal trays hanging in front?”

“The cable ways, yeah.”

“I shone the light through that and spotted some steps. Over there.” Forlornly, Isaac pointed to the narrow staircase on the other side of the room. (Or what had Anaru said they were called on a ship? Compartments?)

“And lemme guess. You couldn’t find the door, so you tried to shimmy in through that vent and got yourself stuck instead.” Even in the gloom, he noticed their shoulders shaking.

Isaac huffed. “Don’t laugh.”

“Little too late for that, bookworm. But don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’ll get you out of there.”

“My hero.”

“If you’re going to sass me, though…”

“Okay, okay! Please just get me out of here. I’m probably already going to need a tetanus shot.”

“You want me to grab hold of your arms and pull?”

“No, I think that might just make it worse. If you pull from behind that should work—I can’t back out myself because my feet don’t quite reach the floor now.”

Kinslayer patted him on the head despite his scowling. “Give me a minute to find the passageway.”

Then there was nothing for him to do except wait. Isaac did his best to keep from imagining anything spooky lurking in the dark corners, or just outside his flashlight beam. Given that whole misadventure with Elfy the last time he’d explored a wrecked old ship, it wasn’t easy.

A light touch slid along the outside of his thigh and made him twitch in alarm.

“Easy, bookworm,” came Kinslayer’s voice, muffled by the metal wall separating them.

His heart shifted down a gear. “Get me out of here.”

“All right, let’s see what’s what.”

Isaac tried not to squirm as their hands roamed around, gently prodding at where his hips met the vent. Mostly. One wandered over to rest on his ass. Not squeezing or anything, just…there.

“What do you, um, think?”

“Well, looks like the waistband of your jeans could be holding you up. Might have to shuck ‘em.”

“Are you serious?” His voice had risen an octave or two.

“Could always just bring you food and water three times a day, if you wanna stay. Leave you some reading material.”

“Haha. Just…just do whatever you need to.”

His face grew hot as Kinslayer slipped a hand around to his front, working it between his abdomen and the vent enough to pop the button on his jeans. Isaac chewed his lips and tried to distract himself by listing every breed of dog he knew while they peeled the denim off his helplessly dangling legs, leaving it bunched around his ankles. A startled little yip leapt from his throat when their fingers dug into his hips.

“Ah, are you going to…erm…”

“Gonna what?”

“Help me?” His voice and the hope in it were too faint to even echo.

“Hmm. I dunno. Maybe if you ask real nice.”

“O-kay. Um. Help me…please?”

The smack on his ass, when it came, made him drop his flashlight; it went rolling across the floor, causing wild shadows to flit over the walls. Though of course it was futile, Isaac attempted to twist around and stare at Kinslayer in disbelief.

“You can do better than that, bookworm. Go on. Once more, with feeling.”

He kept perfectly still, brain whirring. Did they really want him to…what? Plead? Submit? Kinslayer had always discussed that kind of scenario with him beforehand. Then again, they did enjoy pushing his buttons—nudging him out of his comfort zones. Maybe this was just an unexpected opportunity to mess with him.

“What happens if I don’t?” The direct approach rarely went wrong.

It stung a bit, the second smack. “Then I spank this cute little ass until it glows like Rudolph’s nose on Christmas Eve.”

He gulped. “If I ask—if I beg…you’ll let me go?”

Two strikes landed in quick succession, making tears prickle in his eyes. “Naw, doubt it.”

“But that’s not fair!”

“It is fun, though.”

“For you maybe!”

!!! Explicit Scene Starts Below !!!

Content Advisory: Spanking, dirty talk, mild/referenced sadism, submission, anal fingering, brief degradation/humiliation, suggested group sex, we're basically watching Isaac unlock a new kink in real-time here

Kinslayer rested a hand on his flank. Gently, but it still made him flinch like he’d been jabbed with a thumbtack.

“Isaac.” Their voice had lowered to a purr—a growl?—that made the hairs along the back of his neck stand at attention.

“What?” he snapped.

“Are you hard?”

His mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.

“Are you?” they pressed, giving him a motivating slap.

“No!” Not all the way at least—he probably wouldn’t have even noticed his body reacting if they hadn’t brought it up.

Kinslayer’s laughter was felt more than heard, a subtle tremor in the air. Or maybe Isaac had just started shivering. “Liar.”

“I’m not—”

His protests earned a flurry of blows that made Isaac yelp and kick as much as the jeans still comically hanging around his ankles would allow. Metal edges dug into his ribs as he attempted to twist, turn, do anything to free himself and avoid the relentless palm from colliding with his backside again.

“Had enough?” Kinslayer asked, mercifully giving him a break. “You ready to admit defeat?”

He grit his teeth, sweat tickling the back of his neck and glueing his curls to his skin. “You wish.”

Hands were on him again, tugging off his boxers. Cinders singed his nerves as Kinslayer dragged their short nails down the curve of one asscheek. “You’re right. I do wish.”

Shit. Now he really was—

He couldn’t help it if his body reacted, though. It was the cool air, being naked yet half-dressed at the same time, the way their voice made his skin flush hot all over, and—Isaac shook his head to clear the rosy haze from his thoughts. It simply wasn’t fair. He couldn’t disobey or misbehave like this. The best he could do was sulk, but his heart wouldn’t be in it.

“Isaac. Am I going to have to beat an answer out of you?”

It wasn’t fair. Although…that didn’t mean he was helpless. Not completely.

“You wouldn’t.” He paused, heart hammering against the sheet metal imprisoning him. “You can’t.” Not quite his usual style of defiance, but it scratched the itch he hadn’t been able to reach before.

Somehow, he could sense Kinslayer’s expression change. In his mind’s eye, he saw a grin creep across their face, revealing a sharp crescent of teeth. Isaac took a shaky breath and wondered what, exactly, it said about him that fear wasn’t driving his pulse.

A hit with the most force behind it yet landed, sending his thoughts scattering like a break across a billiard table. Then another. And another, so close on the heels of the last that the stinging pain overlapped, intensifying. Kinslayer fell into a devious rhythm, striking the same spot until it felt branded, the shape of their hand seared into his flesh. Right at the edge of Isaac’s breaking point, though, they’d shift to the other side, starting the whole torturous process again. The compartment soon echoed with curses, cries, and, eventually, sobs.

“Okay, okay!” he finally gasped. “You win! Stop! Please!”

“Had enough, huh?”

“Yes, I’ll be good!”

“Oh, bookworm, it was never about you being good or bad.”

Swiping sweat from his eyes and still catching his breath, Isaac thought hard. What had they said? Not fair, but fun. He relaxed as much as his aching body would allow.

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice stayed surprisingly steady. “Because I’m stuck. You can do whatever you want to me right now, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.”

Kinslayer’s pleased hum reverberated up and down his spine. “See? I knew you’d get it sooner or later. Glad we’re on the same page.”

There was a rustle of fabric. Not like they were undressing, but maybe…going through the pockets of their jacket? Isaac’s brows pinched as he listened, focused on what was coming next.

Of all the things he’d imagined, slick fingers sliding between his cheeks hadn’t made the list. Isaac jumped and hissed, the touch like dragging a live wire across his raw skin.

“I do believe you’ve earned a little treat, though,” Kinslayer told him. “Whaddaya say?”

“It’s up to you,” he said through gritted teeth and contrary to every instinct.

“Mmm. Now you’re starting to get it.”

A fingertip began to stroke his hole, setting off a wave of tingles that blended with the pain in a way that made him wish he could arch his back. He wriggled, but a hand gripped his hip. Breathing through his nose, Isaac made himself go still again. The insistence behind the caresses increased. His body didn’t put up much of a fight, allowing Kinslayer to push one long finger into him. Isaac shoved a fist against his mouth, biting his knuckles to keep quiet. Just because they had him dead to rights didn’t mean he had to broadcast how much it was turning him on. Or how fucking well the burn of being breached complemented the heat radiating from his oversensitive skin. They could read his thoughts if they wanted to know, so he wouldn’t bother admitting it out loud. Definitely wouldn’t beg for more, harder, faster, please and thank you. He wouldn’t.

Luckily, Kinslayer wasn’t asking for input. “You know, as cute as you are when you’re full of vim and vinegar, we ought to do this more often. Well, not the ‘stuck in a vent’ thing. More the ‘at my mercy’ part, I mean. Though, being in this wreck does bring back some fond memories.”

They withdrew their finger enough to add a second. Pressure and resistance as they filled him partway, then retreated a fraction only to thrust in deeper, working him open. Curling, both digits pressed upwards, seeking an angle of attack that would destroy any illusion of defiance he had left. The anticipation, simply knowing Kinslayer was going to win, to prod and pet until they made him—

Isaac gripped the flange of the vent and wished his legs would stop quivering.

“I worked on dozens of ships in the old days, before steam engines became common. Expeditions, piracy, whaling. Did I ever mention that?” Kinslayer continued. “I usually wound up around second or third command. You know, something like a bosun or mate. That way, I’d be the one who got to give the lashings and break green sailors to my will.”

Though he’d been braced for it, Isaac couldn’t hold back a sharp, stuttering inhale when they hit a place inside of him just so. Every stroke melted his bones and organs further into liquid pleasure. It dribbled down the ladder of his ribcage, thick and warm, to pool in his belly and settle heavily between his thighs. By the end, there’d be nothing left of him but a quivering puddle on the floor.

“You know how much fun I would’ve had if I’d found you like this on one of my ships, bookworm? I would’ve whipped you until you had more stripes than a zebra. Maybe, if I was feeling generous, I would’ve invited a couple of deckhands to join me so we could take turns with you.”

A choked whimper escaped his throat. Isaac hid his face behind his hands as Kinslayer laughed, low, dark, devoid of pity.

“Well, how about that? Never took you for an exhibitionist.”

He wasn’t. Not really. No matter what sounds came out of him.

“Or is it the thought of being helpless that’s got you hot under the collar? Getting spanked, being fucked while you can’t do a damn thing about it? Being used like the pretty toy you are?”

Couldn’t hide the noises anymore. Couldn’t keep them back. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care anymore. Just as long as Kinslayer didn’t stop. As long as he was allowed—

“You going to come like this, Isaac? Going to disgrace yourself?”

His voice was wrecked, in tatters. “If you want me to.”

Their other hand wrapped around his cock, easily gliding from tip to base and back. “Good answer.”

Lightning split Isaac asunder. Pleasure, white-hot, crackled through his spine, boiled his blood to rust-colored steam, withered his muscle fibers to ash, and gave him a glimpse of heaven before he drifted back down to earth. He hung limp, catching his breath in gasps. His aches and pains had grown distant. Were of a past lifetime. Forgotten.

Something squeezed in on either side of his ribs, grabbed ahold, and pulled him free as easy as pie. He tried to glare up at Kinslayer’s smirking face as they held him, arms wrapped around his waist. More than likely he just looked dazed and drowsy.

“You with me, bookworm?”

“Mm-hm.” Jerk.

They had one of their quiet, shoulder shaking laughs at his expense while they propped him against the wall. Bulkhead. Whatever. Using a little pack of wipes, they helped clean him up enough to get his clothing back in order. He winced as the waistband of his boxers and jeans slid up and over his ass.

“Som…” Isaac cleared his hoarse throat. “Something you learned from life at sea?”

One of Kinslayer’s brows quirked.

He pointed at the pack. “Always be prepared?”

“Oh, sure.” They tucked it back into the appropriate jacket pocket. “Modern lube keeps better than whale oil too.”

Isaac opened his mouth, then let it fall shut. Maybe his curiosity could stand to leave some stones unturned.

“Well, upsy-daisy, bookworm.”

“Wha—” He flailed as he was manhandled into being carried over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Can’t let you walk all the way up to the weather deck, can I? Denim’ll chafe your tender hide before I can tend to it. Unless you object?”

He heaved a sigh, though that didn’t stop him from relaxing, letting his arms dangle down their back. “Do I really have a choice?”

“You catch on real quick.”

[valeria-rambles]

My first beach story that I liked

If I were to give a summary of how was 2023 for I wouldn't be able because it had so many things going on at the same time that thinking about it would make my head spin.

But if there was a small pocket of emotions that could fill a year, it would be my christmas trip to the beach with my girlfriend, my mother and her grandma.

First thing to point out: Venezuelans go to beaches any time of the year. Is the holiday place to go no matter the circumstances, and there's always something to get out from. The second thing to point out: I hated going to the beach.

To put it short, family traumas and gender dysphoria destroyed my entire sense of belonging in that space. So this vacation time (one full week) was taken with wariness... until I chose to drop the boymode entirely.

As a trans woman in this country, with no legal means to change my name and gender in my ID, added to perceptions about my appearance, I tend to find myself stuck on boymode much more that I would welcome it. As a matter of safety, I avoid gendered spaces as much as I can and just do my things.

But here, I decided to drop that a and go full fem. It was the best thing I could do.

Even with the shittyness of bad situations, I was happy just by being me, and I won't change that for the world. The old fears that would haunt me forever are going away, becoming so small to be barely recognizable.

I'm good, I'm happy and I had a great time on the beach.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

Hello! Firstly, you will never know how much you and your posts never fail to brighten my day!

I have a question for the pack: based on the recent installment where the reader faced an early rut due to their separation from the pack - have you all spoken about what will happen once you all graduate university and your dream jobs may force you to live in different places? Just the thought causes me slight anxiety!

"Oh, that'll never happen." Chan immediately shakes his head, his eyes dark and serious, a flash of agitated gold ringing the edges of his irises. "Once a pack is formed, it's only broken up in cases of extreme dysfunction, extenuating circumstances, or mate death."

"Wolves are fickle creatures. They're particular on who they let into their lives and intimate social circles." Seungmin nods, looking thoughtful. "Once they pick a mate-or mates, in most cases-they stick with each other till the very end. They're extremely loyal once they pick their people."

"Add onto that the fact that we all chose to accept each other's mating marks-and most importantly the pack alpha's-" You add, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with Chan's as you give him a sidelong, comforting smile, stopping the obvious irritated bouncing of his knee with the pressure of your hand. "-and well, we're pretty much shit out of luck if we want out. We're stuck. And happy about it."

"Sucks if I wanted to change my mind, though." Jisung muses in a teasing voice, and Hyunjin elbows him in the side with an amused smirk.

"Sucks to be you."

"Only sometimes. Always sucks to be you though."

"Are you okay, hyung?" Changbin glances past the bickering duo and across the room to Chan, who has frozen up beside you, expression unreadable.

"Sorry." Chan takes in a deep breath through his teeth and glances up at the ceiling, as if to compose himself, before he physically forces his shoulders to relax.

The nervous tapping of his foot has resumed once more.

"My alpha just doesn't really like this topic of conversation. Even if it is all hypothetical."

"Mine doesn't either." You admit, shoving down the sudden whining of your wolf, your fingers curling a bit tighter around the head alpha's. "And I'm not even the head. So I can't imagine how you feel."

"Basically, we're like a giant ass married couple. But with nine people." Minho remarks, picking at his nails, though you can read in the subtle stiffness of his posture that he's aware of the agitated pheremones the head alpha is emitting from beside you. "When we move or make big life decisions, we do it all together. We don't leave people behind just because we graduate or get new jobs or switch houses."

"Besides-" Jeongin speaks up now, eyes bright, lips pulled up into a happy grin. "-we're all in such different fields, we're bound to find jobs all in the same city."

"That's right." Felix ruffles the youngest omega's hair affectionately. "We'll all be together. Forever."

"God, that's a long time." Jisung laments from beside Changbin, but he's biting back a smile.

"You're so goddamn lucky, Han Jisung. Don't act like you aren't."

"I didn't say I wasn't! When did I say that? Show me!"

"Baby." You lean over into Chan's space and plant a solid palm on his still jiggling knee. He offers you a tight lipped smile.

"No one is leaving. Everyone is here. Everyone will always be here. We're not going anywhere."

He sucks in another breath and squeezes your hand.

His posture relaxes a bit, the gold receding from his irises.

And when he smiles this time, it reaches his eyes.

"I know, baby. I've always known that. But thank you for reminding me."

[regrettablewritings]

Hi!😁 I'll give you another ship with my dear Lucifer morningstar from Lucifer cuz as it turns out I'm a hoe for a lot of characters but what can ya do? Thank you!

Aw hell yii, somebody's talkin' my lingo! 😎

Who the fuck put the Peeps in the microwave?: Lucifer. And no, it's not because he actually likes them or is curious about what would happen; he's seen plenty of Youtube videos enough to know exactly what happens. No . . . It's far more malicious . . . Generally speaking, you don't like the constant comparison of cats to the devil. But after getting to actually meet The Devil, you think that those believers might be on to something. Lucifer's whorey ways bleeds into his need for attention like red bleeds into white in the wash, and he's completely shameless about it. For example, if he feels like you may be focusing too much on work or, gasp, other people besides him, you run the risk of encountering a very . . . mischievous Luci. Not that he's not already a prankster, but he somehow becomes a bit more childish. Catlike in some respects. He puts your mugs up higher than what you can normally reach without having to climb on the countertop. He joins you at your kitchen table while you're reading over files for work and puts on his most angelic face, insisting he just wants to keep you company and will be as quiet as vermin in Dear Old Dad's house . . . then proceed to obnoxiously click a pen while pretending to solve a word problem, or eat cheese puffs obnoxiously loud. And then . . . the Peeps: The absolute prettyboy bastard used your microwave as a casualty of war, plopping the unplated, mutant-colored marshmallows directly on the glass and letting them go. To be fair, it technically didn't ruin anything. But at least he had your attention now -- because after fussing at him for making a mess, you were currently supervising him scrubbing not only the effected areas of the glass dish, but the rest of the microwave as well. Unfortunately, you can't say a lesson was really learned because now Luci knows that if he wants to get a rise out of you, what he needs is a bunch of candies from the bargain bin.

Who forgot to put the cat out before sex?: It's not that either of you forgot the cat was there -- it was that Lucifer wanted the bloody animal to give the both of you some privacy. And because Lucifer forgot the cat was there. He was simply too busy embracing you in a liplock and laying you down on the couch to notice the glaring eyes of the cat you had rescued from the shelter. Thankfully, you two didn't get very far before the lovingly-named Lucipurr released a meow, indicating that he had become flesh and bone in the few hours it had been since you'd last fed him. Suffice to say, after a startled Lucifer flung himself off of you and onto the floor, nearly breaking his ass on the coffee table (and the laughing fit that had induced on your end), the mood was killed. For the next fifteen minutes, that is. The next time he tried anything, Lucifer made sure that his efforts would be continued in the bedroom (but not before he did a complete check of every nook and cranny in there to make sure the furry bastard wasn't trying anything).

Who posts Vines/TikToks of the other doing embarrassing shit?: Lucifer absolutely lacks boundaries. The moment he discovered smartphones, social media, and all their potential, he was all in and recording as many videos of friends and coworkers as he could in as many awkward or unideal situations as they came. You felt bad for Dan being his constant target, but you were somewhat sure that Dan felt bad for you in a way: After all, you were dating the freaking guy and yet Lucifer had few qualms about posting a video of you, drunkenly singing karaoke in what was supposed to be a private room? Harsh.

Who breaks the most phones?: Lucifer does. He's not necessarily careless, but his part-time occupation does lead him to circumstances that tend to put his phone in danger. You, Chloe, Dan, literally everyone has told him to just leave his phone in the car if he's going to get it broken that often while on the job, but the dumbass never learns. Not that he really seems to care all that much: With his wealth, he can always buy a new one. Though, the only times he gets frustrated is when photos or videos don't quite make it to the transfer and things get lost along the way. Funny photos, suggestive videos, photos and videos of you . . . Photos and videos of you being funny or suggestive . . . Downright pornographic videos he had recorded of you -- Though don't worry: He's sure you'll be more than happy to help recreate the latter. He'd gladly help you . . .

Who dies first?: It should go without saying. It really should. But that doesn't make it hurt any less. Lucifer was always one to get caught up in his indulgences, after all: Somewhere along the way, he must've gotten too swept up in the thrill, the feeling of adoration. He tells himself this but it's really just denial. Closer to the truth is that it all really was just denial: He denied the idea that you would ever leave him, that you would ever die. Luci was never good with his own thoughts and feelings, but the way you made him feel was nearly enough to convince him that, in some way, you would just plain live forever. But of course, this was not the case: It didn't matter that you were fantastical enough to love and be loved by the Devil; you were still very much a human. Very much mortal. So susceptible to things like time and illness and injury. Lucifer was the King of Indulgences. It was extremely rare for him to experience regret. But when your time inevitably ran out, remorse filled him like smoke filled his lungs with every cigarette he ran through from the moment your funeral arrangements were decided. He could never regret knowing you, as much as part of him thought doing so would spare him this pain. He tried to think of how much better he might've been had he never met you, and it always felt like he was stuck in his own personal Hell Loop with everything going wrong over and over no matter how hard he tried to change it. He regretted that for as much time as he lived up with you, he felt like he didn't use nearly enough of that time to just . . . enjoy you. You in your mortality, your fleeting beauty and love that would nonetheless haunt him for however long he might go on for. So maybe . . . for eternity? This didn't feel like his own personal Hell Loop: This was his own personal Hell Loop. And until he learned to forgive himself, it would never end. So he'd be stuck here for maybe . . . eternity.

Which one I could see as being lactose intolerant: Neither. Unless they get brought down to mortal enough, Celestials generally don't suffer ailments, let alone from things like food allergies.

Who thinks they can do something really well even though they can't?: Lucifer . . . It's not that he's not smart. But by Dad, he is lacking in so much self-awareness that it can be maddening. He thinks he's pretty good at following Dr. Linda's advice (and, to an extent, he's progressing). But the fact of the matter is, he's incredibly troubling at best. Not nearly as bad as some patients, mind you, but when Linda admitted to you that one or two sessions of Lucifer completely misinterpreting her advice nearly drove her to consider adding a secret bar into her desk, you believed her and didn't blame her for one bit.

Who is more likely to get kicked out of bed?: Lucifer is a changed devil. But it's a very slow change. You're more than happy to understand and accept this, but that doesn't mean you have to let him and his issues walk all over you. Sometimes, the big dummy just says or does things without thinking -- or because he thought too hard and thought this was the best decision to avoid further strife. And you try to be patient with him about these tendencies, you really do. But that doesn’t erase your ability to be upset by these habits, or your right to be. And no amount of him buttering you up is going to be acceptable, even when he comes by your place, armed with a dish he so thoughtfully prepared for you. Nope, he can literally go to Hell with that (really, you’re sure the demons there would appreciate a nice beef wellington); you just need some space. Ironically, this may create a cycle wherein his need to make you happy again and have your attention on him drives him to constantly hover around you and attempt to win you over, which in turn just further frustrates you. It’ll likely keep going until you either snap or a loved one pulls Luci to the side and gives him a heads up that maybe he should respect your boundaries. After all, intention isn’t the problem here: It’s the actions taken. And as much as it hurts him knowing that he accidentally hurt you, he has to respect your need for time to cool off. He forces himself to go back to his place and tries to think less about how he feels and more about how you might feel, and try to work out ways to avoid similar incidents in the future. And even though the conclusions he comes to may not be perfect, you at least respect the effort -- particularly when he next sees you, no longer armed with snacks from your favorite bakery or bouquet-carrying teddy bears. Instead, all he has is an apology. It’s sheepish, and it feels foreign to someone who rarely experiences shame or regret, but you know his whole heart is in it even if he himself doesn’t understand entirely why that is. Which is good because that’s just part one of the process; part two involves him warming up that spot in your bed that’s reserved for him!

Who uses the computer the most?: You, absolutely. Lucifer's adorably but altogether completely crap when it comes to technology. Besides, he can easily find other things with which to amuse himself, and doing the paperwork is for other people anyway.

Thank you sooooo much for participating again!!! It really means a lot!!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

[einsteinsugly]

This story's driving me insane, and I can't shut my big, fat mouth, so here's an essay...

Let the shitstorm commence! I did write a rightfully negative review on this story awhile back, but I left a lot out. And this little rant's been stuck in my head forever. So, here's my little rant. This story? It's not bad writing, per se, but it's a straight-up fundamental misunderstanding of Eric Forman as a character. And it also involves coming to an obviously incorrect conclusion from the episode Baby Fever (3x07). This incorrect conclusion, roughly, is the following; "The man is the man of the house. He goes to work, and refuses to do jack shit at home. He's a terrible husband. And a terrible father, as he refuses to do anything with the children and doesn't really bond with them." Instead, Baby Fever summarizes that paternalistic message that Red's been pounding into Eric's head for years. The man is the man of the house. He brings home the bacon, and protects his wife and his children. Whereas the wife takes care of the children, and maybe has a "woman's job" on the side (such as being a secretary, a nurse, or a teacher). Red would never neglect and/or abandon his children, and neither would Eric. Straight up. Of course, I'm not dismissing the fact that Eric can be a jackass. He is a jackass in Baby Fever, no doubt. He would maybe try to pass the buck to Donna when their kid's crying, or is in need of a diaper change. Or maybe he'd expect Donna to cool down for a bit when their kid's an infant, like his mother did (in my headcanon). But that's as far as he would go. He would never just up and leave his child/children. Never ever. Not in a million years. And seriously, he would never ally with Laurie in this crucial regard. In my Two Worlds Apart universe, Eric outright resents and detests Laurie for abandoning her son (Adrian), even if it was during some troubling times. Red and Kitty feel the same way, as Red finishes his shift from having Laurie as his favorite to having Eric as his favorite. Hell, he and Eric may disagree on some things, but Eric doesn't shirk his responsibilities. As a husband and father. Furthermore, this story tries to glorify J/H, giving them a fairly picturesque ending, while highlighting E/D's downfall. This isn't unfathomable, but as mentioned previously, the way the downfall occurs is outright OOC. Hence, If Eric and Donna's marriage went down the tubes, this is how it would go down, roughly; One (or both scenarios) would have to occur; 1. They'd have a kid too young. Either; a) 1980-2. Donna intends to have an abortion, with Eric's knowledge and understanding, but someone else finds out about it and she's coerced into continuing the pregnancy. They would've been rushed to the altar, when neither were particularly ready.

b) 1983-1984. Donna's uneasy about starting a family so young, but Eric convinces her otherwise. He definitely would want kids before Donna would. More in the 1985-7 range, whereas Donna would likely prefer the 1988-90 range. But the 1985-7 range is workable. They've at least gotten started in their careers, and in due time, they'll figure it out. If Donna accidentally got knocked up in this period (like in Two Worlds Apart), it would be a little bit earlier than she would've liked. But it's not that far off the mark, so once again? It's workable. 2. Returning/remaining to Point Place, when neither of them really want to; Could Eric and Donna live and thrive in suburbia? Yes, but if they're coerced/guilt-tripped into it and/or forced to do it because of certain circumstances, when they really don't want to? Problems will definitely arise. Once again, this issue comes up in my TWA universe. Kitty finds Eric a promising job at Point Place High School around the time of his college graduation, but he and Donna aren't into it, so he turns it down. They want to work abroad for a bit, before settling down. And when they do settle down, because of Kate, it's not in Point Place. 3. Either one or both of these scenarios occur, and they're at a standstill. Neither are happy with their situation, and want a way out. This can manifest in plenty of ways, but if there's a kid in the mix, neither would bail on the kid. Just on each other. A child would make backing out of the marriage considerably harder, but at some point, one of them would pull the trigger. I can picture Donna backing away for a little bit, like a few weeks or so (more if the kid/s were significantly older [like in their teens or were young adults]). To calm down emotionally, but that's as far as she would go. She'd rationalize it by insisting that her child/children shouldn't see her at her lowest of lows. She's not wrong, technically, but eh. It's another can of worms for another day. Meanwhile, Eric would only be gone for a few days, at most. Getting through all the logistics. Moving elsewhere and such, petitioning for a divorce. That kind of thing. *****

A/N: Yeah, I get it. Some in this fandom don't like Eric and Donna together. Fine, whatever. But I hate when either of them are wrongly villainized (usually Donna, but this time, it's Eric) to either split them apart or make them the collective enemy, and the writer coerces them into doing things they would never do. Like, there's this one fic that goes above and beyond this on ff.net (it's a few years old), where Eric gets high on psychedelics and rapes Jackie, and Donna just fucking watches. And it's downright infuriating. Like throwing shit at my computer infuriating. That's the worst fic I've ever seen, honestly. After all these years, I still can't get it out of my head. Ugh.

[phoenixhalliwell]

Well Helloooo Nurse

Pairings: Will Miller  X Gender Neutral Reader ( Nurse Lark but goes by the name of Birdie) 

Word count: 1887

Author's Note: Good Evening all, welcome to the Will Miller show. Please be gentle as it’s my first time writing for him. I also have no idea how the inside of an ER works, i’m just winging this whole thing lmao  I hope whoever stumbles on this enjoys it :) 

Hope you don’t mind the tags: @lilacyennefer​ @cinewhore​ @dignityneeded

Thanks to his idiotic brother, Will ends up in the ER. Benny in an attempt to make amends, tries to be his wingman. 

Throwing yourself down into your chair, you let out a small cry at the relief at finally being off your feet. To say it's been a long week is an understatement. Your back is in agony, your stomach won't stop growling  and there's a throbbing pain behind your eyes . The ER has finally quietened down after a disastrous morning and you're counting down the minutes until it's home time.  

'Is it just me or is time moving slower?'

You glance at the clock. Another 20 minutes  and you are free for the next two days to do absolutely nothing. Closing your eyes you smile at the thought of the large glass of wine, warm bath and take out that awaits you when you get home. Your happiness is short lived though when you hear your name being called out.

'Urghhh, just leave me alone'

"Birdie, my good friend. How are you? You are looking fiiinnneee today, is that a new pair of scrubs."

Opening your eyes, you glare at your friend Letti who is currently batting her eyes at you. You scoff. You  know for a fact you look like shit. Your hair looks like a bird's nest ( no pun intended) and you're pretty sure that your scrubs have seen better days.

"What do you want?" you narrow your eyes at her.

"You know how you're my absolute best friend and you love me so much? Could you find it in that golden heart of yours to stay on just a little longer and cover the end of my shift. It's only a couple extra hours. I wouldn't normally ask but Scott has managed to ship the kids off to his mum's tonight and it's been so long since we've had adult time, if you catch my drift. Please. Help me out here Birdie I am dying" She begs.

'Pfft least you're getting the option for adult time' you think to yourself.  You watch as she clasps her hands to her chest and starts to give you the sad puppy dog eyes .You can feel your resolve start to crumble. Groaning, you throw your head back in defeat.

"Fine, but you owe me one and you better believe I will collect" you sigh. Letti fist pumps the air before grabbing your face and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I fucking love you Birdie. I will name my next child in your honour"  she promises.

"Yeah like I haven't heard that before" you snort, wiping your cheek. Letti suddenly thrusts a clipboard into your hand before rushing  you through your next patient, eager to get home to her husband. You're not really listening to her, nodding along  every so often as you try to decipher the chicken scratches on the paper in front of you.  

' Did a child fill in this form?'  

You hear snippets of what she is saying: "Hotter than sin..... If I wasn't married...  wouldn't be able to walk straight"

You are finally able to pick out the important information:  

Exam Room 3 - William Miller, 40, laceration to left arm.

'Ok I can work with that'

Calling out your goodbyes to Letti  and telling her to have a good time, you make your way to exam room 3 to get started. Drawing back the curtain, you step into the room and  call out

'Mr Miller?'

"Yes?" two voices answer at the same time.  

" They are talking about me Dumbass, I'm the one that's currently bleeding no thanks to you. Please excuse my brother, he was dropped on his head a lot as a child"  your patient apologises to you. You let out a snort at the quip.  It's not until you get a proper look at his face that  your laughter is quickly cut off.

'Oh' is all you can think before your mind goes blank. Sitting in front of you is a man you can only describe as an Adonis.  Even though his face is twisted slightly in pain, you would gladly stare at him  for the rest of eternity. Beautiful  blue eyes, soft blond hair, a well groomed beard. Your mind  takes you to some bad places when you think about that beard.

'Hotter than sin indeed...."  

A choked out laugh causes you to tear gaze away from William and over to the other man in the room who waves at you looking far too amused.

'Oh god, he knows I was checking out his brother' You cringe internally.

"Hi I'm Benny in case you were interested" the other man jokes. He is also a fairly attractive man  -you can see some similarities between the two. However, Benny has nothing on his brother. You shyly nod your head in greeting before making your way to Will's bedside.

"Ok Mr Miller, I am Nurse Lark. From what I could make out from your form, it says that you have a laceration on your left arm. Is this correct?"  you ask the older Miller.

"Yes that's right. Sorry about the scrawl, Benny didn't make it past the 3rd grade."  Will  teases.

"Fuck you dickhead" Benny hisses back.

"Boys, settle down, this is an ER  not a playground " you interject. Both men mumble their apologise and you try not to laugh. Gently picking up Will's arm, you turn his arm left to right to get an idea of  the extent of his injury. He's lucky in the fact it's not too deep. Unfortunately it cuts directly through the tattoo on his lower arm. Potentially a future scar but that was out with your control. Raising your head, you notice how close you are to each other's faces. Will stares back at you and you lose yourself for a minute.

"For fuck sake, get a room" You hear Benny mutter behind you. You cough and busy yourself getting the equipment you need to start patching Will up.

"I'm sorry but this might hurt a little"  you warn him in advance.

" Don't worry about me, I'm tough as nails " He smiles reassuring you.

You nod before getting started. So focused on your work, you didn't notice Will admiring you from where he sat. He liked the way  your eyes never wavered from your task despite Benny blabbering on in the background. How your nimble fingers made quick work of his wound. He thought the way you stuck your tongue out slightly in concentration was the cutest thing.

Benny was quick to notice his brother's heart eyes and started snickering.

" You know what Will? Maybe if you're a good boy the nice nurse will kiss it better once they are done"

You glance up in time to see Will's face turn scarlet. 

'Just when I thought he couldn't get any cuter'

"That's it, Benny get out now!" Will  growled.

Benny sighs dramatically and sulks out the room but not without muttering "just trying to help you get laid dickhead". You glance back at Will who is now staring up at the ceiling, looking as though he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

"It's days like these I really wish my parents had got me a puppy instead of a little brother"

"Well from what I've seen of him so far, the man is basically a gold retriever in human form" you joke back. The laugh he lets out catches you off guard.

'I  could get used to that sound.'

You had to stop yourself from sighing and scolded yourself for acting like a love sick fool instead of the professional you are.

The conversation came easy for you both after that.  You started by telling him your name before the both of you shared little tidbits about each other. Will seemed like an interesting man from what information he gave. He was funny and incredibly smart.

'He's perfect'  is all you could think. However, it didn't take long after Benny got asked to leave to finish patching the rest of Will's arm up.  

"Well Mr Miller, I guess that's you done. Please make sure to keep the area as clean as possible and have someone help you change your bandages"

You feel sad at the idea of him leaving. It is evident that he feels the same by the way he stalls collecting his things. He looks like he's debating with himself before he finally turns to you looking determined.

" Would you maybe like to go to dinner with me sometime? I know we haven't met under the best circumstances but I had a really great time talking with you. I'd end up hating myself if I didn't at least ask"

Your heart races at the question and you don't hesitate to tell him yes. His face lights up and you find yourself falling a little more for Will Miller. Grabbing a pen from your top pocket, you hastily write down your phone number and hand it to Will. You both wish each other goodnight before parting ways. You find yourself grinning and bite your lip to try and contain your glee.

" Guess  I will be naming my first child Letti"

 Outside the hospital

Benny leans against the wall (pouting like a child) and waits for his brother . He still can't believe he got thrown out of the room. It feels like forever and a day before Will finally makes his appearance with a smug grin on his face.

'He looks like the cat that got the cream'

' What's with the grin man? Did they give you the good shit for the pain or something?"

Will shakes his head before showing Benny the piece of paper in his hand. A set of digits.

"William, you sly dog" Benny laughs in delight before he slaps Will's arm. He's quick to realise his mistake when his brother grunts in pain clutching his bad arm. Benny panics and makes to touch him but is stopped in his tracks.

"Don't . Fucking . Touch me.  Just get in the fucking car. " Will hisses. He marches off to the car park, swearing under his breath.

'Well that victory was short lived' Benny thinks, following his brother.

Bonus Scene - Date night

'Is it just me or is time moving slower?'

You glance at the clock for what feels like the millionth time. Another 10 minutes before Will is suppose to arrive. It's been so long since you were last on a date and you can't remember being this nervous. You look down at your outfit and run a hand over it to make sure there wasn't any creases. Will had text earlier to let you know to dress casual for your evening out but wouldn't give you any more information. The sound of the doorbell interrupts your thoughts and you let out a nervous giggle.  Trying not to seem too eager, you give yourself a beat before  opening the door. You feel yourself go weak in the knees. Will is dressed to impress - A black leather jacket over a soft grey t-shirt with a nice pair of black jeans that does wonders for him. He lets out a soft laugh at the way you are blatantly eyeing him up before doing the same to you. He lets out a low whistle.

"Well hellooo nurse"

[angelic-serenade]

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

request: 🌟 Hellou!! I love ur work!! ❤️❤️❤️ Is it possible tó ha e a Alastor and younger(like 4 years younger) reader who have nightmares of his death sonetimes, cause she saw itt Back then, and go to big bother Alastor for comfort? 🦌

requested by: anon

a/n: okay so this was supposed to be a quick one-shot but my hand slipped and I wrote 9500+ words instead. oops. anyway, I hope this meets your expectations, enjoy!

gif, original work and characters do not belong to me

pairing: Alastor x sister! reader

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

warnings: mentions of death, bit of angst, traumatic events, toxic relationship if you squint, Alastor being Alastor but softer for reader

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

It never rained down in Hell, no matter how ardently you had sometimes wished to feel the drops pouring down your robes. Even during your longest nights, the ones haunted by nightmares and long-forgotten memories resurfacing at your weakest, it would never rain like it did in those Gothic Novels your darling brother used to read you back in the day: you were no virtuous protagonist and never would the skies cry for your misery. It was probably one of the worst downsides of being stuck in Hell for all eternity: the equally eternal blood red sky forever looming over your head, serving as a reminder of your infernal punishment.

When you'd wake up in the middle of the night, after a particularly vivid nightmare, there was no pouring rain to muffle the sound of your hopeless wailings, no thunder to distract your spinning mind from its panic. Therefore, you found yourself continously seeking comfort from the only person you held dear to your now dead cold heart: Alastor, The Radio Demon, whom you had the privilege to refer to as your darling brother (at least in the privacy of your own bedchamber) - older brother to be precise, even if only by a few years. You had always been extremely fond of your sibiling, looking up to him as a role model - definitely not your wisest decision since it had landed you among the sinners of Hell. That's not to say you had any regrets, Heaven seemed like an awfully dreadful and boring place if you were to be completely honest.

Alastor, on his part, had affectionately doted on you back on the surface, taking his little sweetling under his protective wing as if his sole purpose in life had been to take care of you. As a consequence, on more occasions than you cared to remember, you had felt utterly asphixiated by your brother's undivided attention all your life, and quarrels had been a daily occurrence whenever his protective behavior clashed with your own desire for freedom. Your lovely mother had always been there to try and defuse your heated altercations, the poor woman; your dear brother and you, however, both shared the same stubbornness and desire to prevail on others, so that whenever your strong personalities came to oppose, trouble was always certain to follow suit.

You wished you'd appreciated his concerns more when you had been given the chance. Now in the afterlife, shows of affection were hard to come by. Mayhap that had been the worst punishment inflicted upon you after death: the privilege of having your dear brother by your side without actually being able to cherish and bask in his caring regards. Mayhap the illustrious Dante had been right in his musings all along: the law of retaliation had taken away from you the one thing you had never really appreciated in life, making you realize just how much you had taken for granted. Now that your brother had become Hell's greatest menace, an overlord to make things worse, weakness in any shape or form could and would not be tolerated under any circumstance, for both his and your sake.

Luckily, no demon in the seven circles suspected that the feared Radio Demon had any siblings to begin with, thanks to Alastor's foresight.

Your identity was to be kept secret at all costs in order to avoid undesired repercussions. If anyone were to even suspect you had any kind of connection to the Radio Demon - Alastor had told you - overlords and lesser demons alike would be at your throat in the span of a heartbeat. If given the chance, no enemy of his would ever hesitate to stoop as low as to attack him were it hurt the most, where he was most vulnerable. And that chance, he was not willing to give any time soon. You both had already died once and you were not keen on repeating the experience.

So you had followed his every order ever since your fall into the pits, leading a life death away from your darling brother and his chaotic ways - the one thing he hadn't been able to prevent in life -, keeping a low profile as a common denizen of Hell. Alastor would unsuspiciously check up on you every now and then, but his visits had been as rare as it was to see an angel in Hell - seeing him once a year was truly an unfair torture. Time went by and you grew more and more lonely as you mostly kept to yourself and wasted your days away in a nice apartment away from prying eyes. You were a nobody in Hell, and that was how things were meant to be.

Things changed when Alastor unexpectedly showed up at your doorstep for the second time in a year, blabbering about the newest project he'd involved himself with. His words betrayed unusual enthusiasm, a mood you had learned to be usually spurred on by the prospect of carnage and bloodshed or his precious radio broadcasts. Whenever he came to see you, he always showered you in gifts and praise, but it had been centuries since you had seen your brother so excited over... anything, really. Therefore, witnessing his cheeriness brought a genuine smile on your face. You were a little jealous you weren't the reason why he felt so giddy, but you couldn't complain as spending time with him was the greatest gift you could ever ask for these days. So when he told you you'd be moving into this phantomatic Hazbin Hotel, where he'd be staying for a while as well, you were impossibly ecstatic. Alastor had gently caressed your cheek and, in one of his rare moments of tenderness, softened his voice as if to lull you away:

“My dear, it has always pained me so to leave you here to your lonesome, but I am certain you understand that I always ever meant to protect you from harm.”

Unexpectedly, as most of his actions were, your dear brother spun you around into his arms as if he were coaxing you into a dance - which would probably be the case, knowing him. His words were impossibly haughty now, as if a switch had gone off in his mind:

“But now sweetling, now the time has come to finally put an end to this painful arrangement. You'll be joining me at this whimsical Hazbin Hotel our dear princess is so enthusiastic about!”

You knew better than to question Alastor and his ways, so you simply nodded your approval, glad to finally be able to leave that god forsaken apartment you had been locked in for far more than you cared to admit. And so you moved to the hotel - still keeping your true identity a secret, mind you. You were introduced as one of Alastor's acquantances, much like both Niffty and Husk were. Nobody questioned your unexpected presence and Charlie (much more than everybody else) welcomed you with opened arms into her precious hotel. When you offered to lend a hand with whatever she needed, she was utterly ecstatic. All in all, you were quick to adapt to the new situation.

The new accommodation, however, brought about quite a lot of new issues as well.

Spending so much time with Astor, for one, even if pretending not to be as close as siblings should be, awakened long forgotten memories about your life on Earth, most of which you would have preferred to keep locked away. During your very busy days, you were able to distract yourself from your scattered thoughts and memories; at night, however, your subconscious relentlessly haunted you in the form of nightmares and there was nothing you could really do to prevent it.

It was inevitable that you'd start losing sleep, as the only way to evade the cage that your mind had become was not to sleep at all. Astor had grown increasingly worried about your sleep-deprived state, even if he tried not to show it, masking his concern with his usual smile and charming talks:

“You will chase away any potential patrons looking so disheveled and shabby, my dear. Charlie will surely be heartbroken.”

You wouldn't have put it past him to manipulate you through guilt, but you knew that Alastor was truly worried about your health. His gaze, cryptic to most, felt all too familiar to you, just like the expressiveness of his smile held no secrets from you anymore. Needless to say, as fond of him as you were, you tried to sleep once again.

Then one night everything changed: it had been the worst night of your undead life, and the best one too.

The deafening sound of gunshots had echoed through your unconscious mind, increasingly loud footsteps and dogs barking so loud that you subconsciously jerked in your sleep. A call to your name, desperate, hopeless and scared. You saw him, his beautiful maroon eyes that had once only pooled in fondness for you, now dark and miserable. But they held promise too, a promise to fulfill maybe someday, in another life.

“I'm sorry (Y/N)”

His smile had dropped.

So had you.

You woke up screaming, trashing about in your bed. Sweat clung to your brow, your mind in a frenzied panic searched for something concrete and real to cling to. Was your brother alright? Satan, you hoped so. He had to be, he couldn't leave you again, you had to go to him, to see him, you didn't want to lose him again, you wouldn't bear the pain - you almost tripped in the bedsheets as you scrambled to the door.

When you arrived to Alastor's door, you had yet to calm down. You rapidly knocked on the hard wood, agitation evident in both your jerky movements and shivering hands.

“Alastor, Alastor, please. Open up. It's me” you desperately whispered.

As the door gently opened, your brother stepped into the darkness of the hallway and you unceremoniously flung yourself to him, clinging to his neck as if it were your lifeline. Your tears wet his robes, but you couldn't bring yourself to care enough to apologize. You felt like you had almost lost him again after all those years of seclusion.

But he was alive and he was with you. That's all you could hope for and far more than you thought you deserved.

Alastor uncharacteristically started to pat your head, as if trying to console you even though he had little to no experience in that area. His movements were uncertain, but as you lifted your head from his chest to gaze into his eyes, you realized no words would ever convey as much affection as Alastor's eyes did in that brief moment. His smile never faltered - even if it had become a bit strained - but you hadn't expected it to. It made you smile through your tears, despite yourself. You realized in that moment you'll forever be the only one allowed to touch Alastor without eliciting his wrath. That fact alone enough for you to truly appreciate the amount of control he'd give up in order to comfort you. He gently brought you to his bed and sat you down next to him.

“Are you quite alright sister dear? You know, those awful tears don't suit you at all! I rather much prefer your blinding smile!”

You smiled wider this time, for him, to let him know that you were indeed grateful.

“Oh, now that wasn't so difficult, was it?”

When he kissed your forehead, you almost broke up crying once again: it had been so long since you and your brother had been so close. The gesture warmed your long dead heart and you tried to return the favor by kissing his cheek. Nobody had ever been that intimate with the Radio Demon and lived to tell the tale, but in that moment he was no demon of hell: he was just Alastor, your dear brother who had doted on you in life and kept protecting you in death too - even though his ways weren't the most orthodox.

“I missed you Al. Please, don't ever leave me again.”

“I most certainly shall not, my sweet little darling. It's a promise.”

You were glad he let you stay with him for the rest of the night. No words were needed as he brought you close and took your hands into his. You both laid on the bed, in a rare moment of peace and quiet. It reminded you of your childhood on Earth and how you'd always sneak out of your room during the night to sleep next to him - you had always been afraid of the dark after all. Only in your adulthood had you learned that there are worse things than darkness one should fear.

After eons of suffering and terrible loneliness, everything finally fell into its rightful place.

Alastor was safe and so were you.

That was all that mattered.

[flappypineapples]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23615143/chapters/58509889

Escapism Chapter 3

Matthew quickly swept Cordelia up into his arms and carried her into a side hallway leading into an ornately decorated retiring room.

Trying to grasp on to any control of the situation Matthew laid Cordelia out onto the nearrst loveseat and fell to his knees at her side.

He check first for a pulse; steady if not a little fast. And then he checked her temperature. She was sticky with sweat and flushed pink all over, radiating heat.

He couldn't drag her back out into the main room and drive home abandoning Anna and, subsequently causing a scene. He was on thin ice already for the last surprise Shadowhunter visit he didn't think an injured one on their hands would bode over well on anyone's side.

His mind was going a thousand miles a minute and none of the miles traveled were getting him anywhere. He cursed himself for not knowing what to do. He was usually reliable when push came to shove but here he was now.

Panicking. Helpless.

Matthew was debating going and looking for Anna when Cordelia started to stir. Startled Matthew jumped a little and pulled his hand back quickly from her forehead. However Cordelia's hand came up to grab his wrist before he could get too far.

Her glassy eyes peeled open slowly and gazed up at him through heavy lips.

"Matthew?"

"Oh thank goodness. Cordelia how are you feeling. Can you tell me where we are? How we got here?". Matthew contuned with every grounding question he could think up before noticing the far off look in her eyes.

"Cordelia can toy understand me? Cordelia." Matthew was starting to become more urgent but Cordelia just lazily shifted her gaze from the wallpaper to his face. She blinked slowly and let a lazy smile play at her lips and giggled.

Good god. She was drunk.

Matthew had spent so many hours with experienced drinkers and sturdy part goers who held their drink well he forgot what it was like for someone to be newly intoxicated. And, as he was starting to theorize, Cordelia did not hold her drink well on a good day. Especially not today where she had been keeping up if not beating Matthew to the bottle.

But that was just the thing. With her he felt almost no need to reach for the flask. To have that poisonous touch stone. He, was not as drunk as he was used to and this made him uneasy. It was not like him to be in the other person's shoes.

"You're much prettier than him". Cordelia mumbled low in her voice, letting her head sway back.

"Pardon?" Matthew said furrowing his brown

"When he change back and forth I was so delighted to see him wearing your face. I thought I would have to look at James forever."

This must've been what Cordelia saw in the shape changing man, him and James. But why?

His thoughts were inturpted by Cordelia lifting her hand to his head. She ran her fingers through his hair. Rough and callous; they were warrior hands. He had never thought of worked hands as more beautiful than in this moment.

Cordelia widened her eyes and gave Matthew an adorably serious gaze given the circumstances.

"Angel", she stated matter of factly.

Matthew chucked despite himself, "who? Me? Maybe one of the tiny mischievous cherubs painted on some clouds but no most certainly not an angel."

Cordelia was beginning to look frustrated with him now, scrunching up her nose at him.

"Your hair Matthew. Its like", another chuckle slipped in, "angel wings, golden and feathery."

Matthew was no stranger to observations about his hair. Most were either mocking remarks by the Merry Theives or a flirtatious coming on from a gentleman or lady at the bar.

But because it was her it all felt brand new.

Cordelia raised her other hand to his left cheek as her right hand came down from his hair to squeeze his cheeks in.

"It also looks very hard to maintain, like an angel. Can you imagine keeping all those feather untangled? I shudder at the thought of how many boars brushes I'd go through."

Matthew's face lit up and he laughed a short loud snort that was muffled and distorated dude to Cordelia still gripping his face.

"Matthew?"

"Hm?"

Cordelia relaxed her grib but didn't let her hands fall. "If I asked you to do me a favor would you do it?"

"Mhmm", he mustered out. Her string gaze was making him sweat like a soloist under a spot.

"Please kiss me Matthew. I'm so tired of being someone's second choice. I want to have one moment of my heart that is for myself and not stolen away from me by careless childish men and distant drunk fathers and whatever other battles iudt fight. For once I don't want to be a hero I just want to love and not be hurt." Her eyes were begining to fill with tears as Matthew gathered her into his arms.

He brought her down to the floor with his and rocked her back and forth while she cried. He didn't think he had ever seen her cry. Not even when her leg had been practically snapped in half after the battle with Belial.

But she cried now and Matthew would never let her feel weak for her. All true hero's cried, for the world is terrible and without tears theirs no expression of grief for what could've been.

Cordelia stopped shaking after a few minutes and stilled. Still gripping Matthew's shirt she looked up at him. All golden hair and golden skin. With the torch back lighting him one would think he really was an angel.

"Cordelia whatever you need from me to make this better. Say the world and I will bend heaven." His face searched hers frantically as he hesitantly reached up with his hand. His fingers brushing aside some stray curles that had stuck to her lips and cheeks in thr past couple minutes.

"Matthew I want to kiss you". Cordelia looked for sober than she had been moments before. Her eyes more level, like the crying rid her of her initial euphoria.

"Cordelia please-", Matthew began but was cut off

Cordelia began to draw back into herself. "Matthew if you don't wish to the we can simply pretend this never happened and blame it on the-"

Cordelia never got to finish her sentence.

Matthew gathered her up in his arms and leaned down to cover her lips with her own. Cordelia was quick to respond. She leaned in close to his chest tilting her head up to meet him.

There was a slow and luxurious passion to the method in which Matthew kissed her. He did not take liberties or assume what she wanted. His kisses were long and hot, like lava rolling down an island.

They grew impatient with this careful passion however. Cordelia reached out and cupped the back of Matthew's necks, using this leverage to pull gersl further into his lap. Between kisses Matthew pulled back and dipped his head under her jaw and kisses lightly.

"Break my heart Cordelia", he kissed her jaw line, "strike my face", he feathered a kiss on her cheek bone. "You'll wish to forget me come morning but for now let me be yours in this world we've created."

Cordelia pulled back and looked Matthew with her eyebrows drawn. She looked as if she was going to make a reply but instead she cried out in pain gripping her stomach.

Matthew pulled back from her as he himself was pulled back violently into the cold water memories of his mom's illness.

Cordelia stumbled to her feet and met his gaze in a panic before she crumpled forward infront of him. He rushed to catch her as she fell but only succeeded in softening her fall as she took him down to the floor as well.

----

Anna had been having quiet the night of sideshow and talent. She had learned to juggle with one hand and mix a particularly strong cocktail from the new mixologist who had been entranced by her eyes and who Anna has thought in return had the most lovely monolid and sharp jawline.

Thought the night was getting slower and she too was starting to wish to retire to bed.

She set off quite some time ago to locate Matthew and Cordelia but was having a hell of a time wrangling them. She was now searching the east wing retiring rooms in a last ditch attempt to locate them. Even if it meant finding them in a surprising manor. Thought, Anna doubted, Matthew would ever have it in him to break Jamse's heart and confess his obvious infatuation with the girl.

Then again, love is a two way path.

What she didn't expect to find was a colapsing Cordelia and Matthew grabbing at her like a drowning man in rapids.

She watched as Cordelia's stumble three Matthew off his feet and into the ground cushioning her fall and landing him on his knees, practically crushing her in his grib.

Matthew looked like a young boy again. One who had just broke their favorite new toy and had come to terms with the fact that things break. It broke their hearts like this moment now broke Anna's.

She had no time to react before Matthew looked up at her, hair falling over his forehead in a drastically unfashionable way as his wide eyes bore into her. He looked 13 again.

He croaked out in a heart shatteringly desparate tone.

"Help me."

Notes: Hey guys! Thank you for your patience with me taking so long to get back on the horse. I took a one month legally blonde obsession break on accident. I've read about 418,786 words of legally blonde Fanfiction and I'm reading to get back in the grind 😤. This one's a little short but I plan on posting the next chapter soon (like actually soon) so stay tuned :-).

[spectraspecs-writes]

Tatooine - Chapter 65 (Zaalbar, Carth)

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 64. Chapter 66.

@averruncusho, @ceruleanrainblues thank you for reading you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for your support you get a tag.

------------------

It’s about thirteen hours from Tatooine to Kashyyyk, but these gizka are threatening to drive everybody nuts before we get there. For a little while, we managed to keep them isolated in the cargo hold, but someone must have opened the door long enough for them to get out. According to Canderous, Juhani found one in the fresher this morning and screamed, before muttering curses in Cathar. Personally, I think they’re adorable, but I’m in the minority. These little frogs are testing even Bastila’s patience. 

But they are simply adorable in my opinion. They like to be scratched behind the little nubs where their ears should be. It makes them purr a little. Unfortunately I’ve petted enough of them to have a small mob hopping behind me. HK wants to shoot them all but that’s not a very good option. We’d end up with a pile of dead bodies. And gizka aren’t particularly tasty so we couldn’t do much with the dead. I think Zaalbar tried to eat one of them, but couldn’t finish it. They’re just not that appetizing to anyone but Ithorians and Aqualish. And at this point they aren’t fit to sell for food - the regulations are very strict as I understand it as to who can sell gizka, the circumstances they’re raised under, the food they can eat while being raised. If they’d been delivered to the right people instead of to me, that’s probably where they’d have ended up.

If they’re still here by the time we’re done with the Star Forge, I’ll see about taking them to one of their native worlds, but until then they’re along for the ride.

Zaalbar has asked for my help trying to wrangle them once more into the cargo hold - which is the only place on the ship large enough to house them all now - and I’m helping him, but I don’t see how much good it’s going to do. If I may coin a phrase, the gizka’s out of the bag, so to speak. It’d be easier to keep them out of places than it would be to keep them in. 

When his makeshift gate collapses again, he groans in exasperation as the gizka hop out of the cargo bay again. “I’m telling you it would be a lot easier to just set up little electrical fields to keep them out of the dormitory quarters and the fresher. I can pick up some parts for it on Kashyyyk,” I tell him.

Zaalbar sort of huffs a sigh. His heart just isn’t in this anymore. “You okay?” I ask.

“Kashyyyk…” he says softly, slowly, “... my home. I should prepare you to go… but I don't know if I'm prepared myself.”

“How do you mean?” I ask him.

“I didn't leave Kashyyyk voluntarily. Mission must have told you how I was fleeing slavers… but there was more,” he says, “I am an exile. The slavers on Kashyyyk only took me after I was forced to leave my village home, 20 years ago.”

“Why were you forced to leave? What happened?”

“My brother made deals with the slavers and allowed them to get a foothold,” he says, “I found out and attacked him. The fight was stopped, but my father did not believe me when I told him about my brother's actions. I was made an exile, disowned by my home and people. I should not be here. They will not accept me back.”

“Why didn’t your father believe you?”

I almost get a sense of shame from him. “When I attacked my brother,” he says, “I was so mad… I used my claws. You don't understand what that means to a Wookiee. Our claws are tools, not weapons. To use them in battle is to become an animal. It is madness without honor. I am forever a madclaw in the eyes of my people. Nothing I say is to be trusted. They were right to cast me out.”

“Maybe things have changed,” I say, trying to be optimistic.

“Perhaps,” he says skeptically, “I just hope I can prove myself to my people. It will be difficult to make them listen. I just don’t know. I don’t have much hope.”

“Well,” I say, “I know it doesn’t mean much, but you’re always welcome here.” He sort of grunts. Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say.

-------

I knock on the bulkhead near the cockpit and Carth turns. “Hey,” he says before looking back at the controls, “What’s up?”

“Want a co-pilot?” I ask, “My piloting skills aren’t that great, but under the tutelage of a master such as yourself, I…”

“Don’t be such a kiss-ass,” he says with a smile, “Have a seat.”

I come the rest of the way in and turn the co-pilot’s chair.

There is a gizka sitting in the chair.

“There’s a gizka here,” I say.

“Yep.”

“Did you… put the gizka there?”

“Nope.” So I pick up the gizka and it wriggles out of my hands onto the deck, hopping away. So I sit down. “Although,” he says, grinning, “I was enjoying its company.” 

“Shut up,” I tease, surveying the controls. “I’m really not a good pilot,” I say, “I can navigate okay, but at least in surface vehicles I hit a lot of things.”

“Well, hyperspace is the most stable part of the trip,” he says, “Not much really needs doing.”

“Seems like the perfect time for me to come in, then,” I say, trying to interpret sensor readouts, “I won’t break anything or shoot somebody, run somebody over.”

“Well, you could knock us off the hyperspace route,” he replies, “Then we’d be in trouble.”

I quickly pull my hands off the console. “Maybe I shouldn’t touch anything then.”

He laughs, just a little. “I’m just saying it’s possible,” he says, “The controls for that are over here, anyway.”

I shake my head. “I guess I should just stick to droids,” I say, and I start to stand up.

“No, please, stay,” he says, “I could use the company, same as you.”

I stay, but -- “What do you mean, same as me?”

“You didn’t need my help to work on HK-47 the other day,” he says, “You didn’t even want my help. My company was a lot more valuable than my assistance. If it was just another set of hands you wanted, you would have used Teethree.”

I start to open my mouth, but I don’t say anything. “Uh-huh,” he says, “You know…” And then it just drops off. “Never mind,” he says, shaking his head, “Come on, where’s the woman with all the questions I was stuck with on Taris?”

Out of questions for the moment. Although I am curious what he was about to say. But when has a direct question worked on Carth? Something seems to be bothering him, he’s just putting up a front. I can’t tell if my people skills are telling me that or the Force, or what, but I know. “Well,” I say, “here’s a question for you, if you’re so eager.”

“Fire away.”

“Tell me why you want revenge on Saul so badly.”

He looks a bit surprised. “I already told you,” he says, “He betrayed us all.”

I shrug. “It just seems to be more… personal than that, that’s all.”

He sort of tosses his head a bit, looking a bit hesitant. But hey, he did tell me to fire away. “Well,” he starts to say hesitantly, “there… there is more to it. I'm… I'm sure you don't want to hear about it.”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

“It's just that I… don't talk about it very much. Okay?” Obviously. “I told you about my homeworld. Telos. Four years ago, Saul led the Sith fleet there and demanded its surrender. The planet refused and Saul proceeded to devastate its entire surface. Millions died.”

He hesitates again. “I had… a wife and son on Telos.”

Oh, so he was a dad. I knew it. Come on, Rena, not really the time for that, is it? “I thought they would be safe there,” he continues, “But my task force arrived too late to be of much help.” He takes his hands off the controls, just sort of letting them rest on the panel. “We didn't have enough medical supplies. The colony was burning and the dying were everywhere. I-I remember holding my wife and screaming for the medics.” And for a moment, I can see it, hear it, feel it like a rock on my chest. It’s weird, and I don't think either of us wanted it to happen. I’d have to ask Bastila about it to know for sure (and I know neither of us want that either), but I guess the emotion of the memory is just so strong that I just… felt it, I don’t know. “They… didn't come in time.” The feeling starts to fade. But I’ll never forget it. And neither will he.

“I’m so sorry,” I say softly, “That’s terrible. I had no idea.”

He stammers a little. “Of course not. How could you?” He shakes his head and goes back to the controls. “I… had nothing left after that, really. I devoted myself to the fleet. Hunting Saul was my only purpose. I… I miss them,” he says. His mind isn’t really on the ship. “I know killing Saul won't bring them back, and it won't make me happy again… but I have to do it. I don't expect you to understand. I have to pay him back for what he's done - I have to. It's all I have left.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” I say.

“No, it’s alright,” he says, “I don’t mind.” Well that’s a change.

“What was she like, your wife?”

He smiles. Of course he does. “She had courage… and she was stubborn.” He chuckles shortly. “A bit like you, in that respect.” (I felt a weird jealousy for a minute, but now it’s gone.) “I could never talk her out of anything once she put her mind to it. And she hated it when I signed back onto the fleet at the start of the war. I had planned on- on leaving soon, to join her…”

It’s nice to know where all the anger comes from. I couldn’t get over that either. “So what happened to your son?” I ask, “You never said.”

“His name was Dustil,” he says, “and I don't know what happened to him. The colony was a complete ruin, and we never found any trace of him.” Ouch. “I made inquiries and followed the reports from Telos for years, but… I stopped.”

We’re both quiet for a little bit, before I give a grim chuckle and say, “I guess this isn’t what you had in mind when you asked for my company, is it?”

He returns the chuckle. “No, but to be honest, I’m just glad you’re here. I like it when you’re around.”

“What a charmer,” I say. I’m glad to see him smile again. “You’re the most normal person on the ship to talk to. Canderous has nothing but war stories, which Mission loves but you have to be in the right mood for it, in my opinion. Juhani’s… a bit clingy, don’t tell her I said that. HK is… HK.” He laughs a bit at that. “And Bastila usually just wants to talk about Revan and Malak.”

He shakes his head. “To think that I once looked up to those two as the best that humanity had to offer,” he says, “Now I'd like nothing more than to put a blaster to both their heads. Although I suppose only Malak is left, isn't he? Turned on his own master, not that Revan didn't have it coming.” A wry chuckle. “Typical for their kind, I guess.”

“Did you ever meet either of them? Bastila hates talking about Revan.”

“I didn’t know them personally. They aided the Republic during the Mandalorian wars. They were heroes. Without them the Mandalorians would have finished us for certain. In the fleet, we didn't see much of the Jedi. I only met Malak once, but I was impressed by him,” he says, “I guess that just shows how much the Dark Side can change someone.”

“Do you… know why they turned?” I ask. I don’t take Bastila’s concerns seriously, but then maybe I don’t have enough information.

“Nobody does.” Well, that’s helpful. “When they left after the Mandalorian wars ended, they were Jedi. When they returned… they were something else. They had an entire fleet with them. Nobody knows where they got the ships. They had a lot of them and as the years have passed there always seems to be more and more… while our forces dwindle.”

“I have a feeling the Star Forge has something to do with that,” I say, “I mean, all the Dark Side I felt in the ruins on Dantooine, I’d be surprised if it didn’t have something to do with them.”

“In the end, the Dark Side won’t help them,” Carth says.

“You say that like you know something about it,” I say.

“I, uh… I used to think that it was a fancy name for something that I see every day. Corruption is everywhere. People are greedy and stupid and do horrible things,” he says, “I'm starting to think it's different for the Jedi, however. That there's this evil watching them, waiting for its chance.”

“Wow,” I say, “somehow you make it more ominous than Bastila.”

“I mean, you have so much courage and strength in you... yet, somehow, I have no trouble imagining it differently. Like the flip side of a coin,” he says. Please give me some words of comfort. “It's not just you. It's Bastila, as well. She's so... intense.”

I scoff. “Tell me about it.” 

“I don't pretend to know much about the Force,” he says, “… but I know evil.”

That’s an interesting thing to say. “You think Bastila and I are evil?”

“No, of course not,” he says quickly. Good, finally something comforting. “All I'm saying is that when you have so much power, the stakes are higher. I can only imagine the kind of conflict that goes on inside you. Neither you nor Bastila are fully trained on how to handle your power.” Well, that’s certainly true. “I'm just concerned at what might come.”

Oh, my God, what is that feeling? “That’s sweet,” I say, “I didn’t know you cared.”

He tries to backpedal, but the damage, so to speak, is done. “Well,” he stammers a bit, “that’s not what I… I mean… I wouldn’t want to see you hurt. Either of you.” Uh-huh. Sure. “I suppose finding the Star Maps is more important than your training… and your safety,” he says, “I just hope there isn’t a price for you to pay.”

“Believe me,” I say, “so do I.”

[sparklessswift]

19 Things I've Learned in 2019

1. “The desire for positive experience is itself a negative experience. And paradoxically, the acceptance of one's negative experience is itself a positive experience.” — Mark Manson (The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck)

I always thought that "How To Be Happy" things on the internet are true and those things can really change your life if you will try to do so. But while reading this book, I've realized that it's not. That the irony behind thinking of ways to be happy and positive just reminds us of what we are not and of what things we failed to have that we've always wanted. The more we try searching for ways on how to be happy, the more we can't attain happiness.

2. The quality of your life depends on the quality of your choices and decisions.

I've learned that you are the only one who's accountable for everything that you choose to do, for every thoughts that you entertain and for every decisions that you make. The quality of your life is shaped on whatever you want it to be. Whenever you feel like you're carrying a huge amount of emotional baggage, it's because you chose to carry it anyway. You chose to entertain the melancholia, you chose to let it enter your life. Do not blame your situation or even other people. Change the way you see things, make good decisions and choices and the quality of your life will be better.

3. Music is a form of enlightenment towards our true emotions.

I found out that longing to hear sad songs that we can relate to whenever we are feeling sad isn't a sign of tolerating sadness, it means we are trying to fill the gap between what we know and what we feel. Finding the perfect song that explains exactly the way we feel helps us figure out the right words to describe our current emotion. It makes us feel that we are not the only one in the world who's suffering. It's relieving to be so connected to a song that you feel as though, it was written for you.

4. Forgiveness is a nice thing to do.

There are times when we feel as though, people and even ourselves are not worthy to be forgiven and that no amount of apology will cease the burning fire. But one thing I do learned this year is that, forgiveness means letting go. Do yourself a favor and let go of the bad memories, what's important is that you took it as a learned lesson. Let go of the grudges that you kept for so long, it will give you a peace of mind. Let go of the idea that forgiving without hearing an apology is not necessary in life, it is. Forgive yourself for all the mistakes you've done in life and forgive those people who have hurt you as well. Release the pain by forgiving so you can finally move on.

5. Self loathe is the most toxic form of hate.

I've learned that there is nothing more toxicating in life than hating your own existence and body. It's like badly wanting a poisonous thing even when you know it is bad for you. It's like loving the lyrics to Taylor Swift's song "ME!" because it radiates self-love but there's always a cringeworthy feeling whenever you sing the words "I'm the only one of me, baby that's the fun of me" because you can't feel the message it conveys. And it feels like, no amount of motivation from other people can cure the poison in you. I know it's easier said than done but remember that only you can free yourself from self loathing so might as well start appreciating small things about yourself and sooner or later you will realize that it's fun to be the only one of you.

6. Being 18 is challenging. While it may be true that each year has its own challenge, being 18 is quite different. It's the time when your mind starts forming questions about life, existence, and future. It's like a climax to your own story, exciting as it may seem but it contains setbacks, challenges and a hundred thousand pieces of inspirations needed in order to thrive harder. In order to believe that you can pursue your dream of reaching the happily ever after.

7. Appreciate high school moments while they last. Realizing how fast the time has flown after my journey in high school is something I wish I was ready for. Funny how we're so attached to a moment from the past (e.g. graduation) that everytime we remember it, there's this bubble of thoughts appearing in our heads with the line “it felt like yesterday” and it feels so bittersweet. If there's one thing I can teach the other generations, it is to always appreciate each moment while it lasts. After all, moments will become memories that will forever be stuck in our head so might as well enjoy your high school life and make good memories out of it.

8. We are all temporary in everyone else's lives and that's normal. It feels relieving when you realize that each person that we meet has a temporary role in our lives. We are bound to lose connection with someone whom we thought will never leave us, we're bound to cut ties with people who are not good for us, and we're bound to be left behind or leave not because we want to but because we just crossed paths with each other, we aren't really travelling the same path not as what we thought we are. Learn how to appreciate someone's presence and learn how to accept someone's absence.

9. Do not drown yourself in the thought that internet validation is important. It is definitely okay to dump the idea that you're living in the wrong generation if you think likes/reactions, comments and shares are not important. Most people today still haven't come to realize that the internet has not just open-sourced information, it has also open-sourced insecurity, self-doubt, and shame. And we have to open our minds about it. Life is happier the moment you realize that you should not give a damn about what other people think of your posts.

10. Do not jump on hate trends in social media just because it's in. Cancel culture has made a noise in the internet this year and suddenly everyone are bragging their freedom of speech because they are jumping on the bandwagon (or should I say, we're? 😂) But one thing I do learned from all the hate trends is to be discerning. This is the best time you can practice cherry-picking and only utter a word when you think you really need to or when you think it is appropriate to do so. Just as Taylor Swift said, “You just need to take several seats and then try to restore the peace and control your urges to scream about all the people you hate”.

11. Being attached to someone does not mean you're into that person. Attachment is way too different than love and even infatuation. It needs not to be stereotyped. Sometimes all you have to do is to give yourself the benefit of the doubt about how you feel and you will realize the true value of a person to you.

12. The hardest struggle in life that we can ever experience is something that is related with our family. Indeed home is where the heart is. Family is our major source of inspiration and it can also be our major source of distraction whenever there are unforeseen circumstances going on. And I think dealing with those circumstances is the hardest struggle to face because there will always be a pain in your chest wherever you go that is inevitable. The pain that lies deep within you but bleeds through the surface of your body that you can't hide.

13. College is way too different than high school and you should be ready for it. Of course, culture shock will always be there the moment you enter college. You will start comparing high school and college in every single details, you will randomly reminisce high school memories while walking in the hallway and you will remember how easy passing the exams and getting high grades back then. In my first semester in college, I've learned that you will never survive if you are ill-spirited, proscrastinator, lazy and weak student. I've learned that college is survival and in survival, you should not come with unnecessary gears. I'm sorry Taylor Swift but in college, you should not bring a knife to a gun fight.😃

14. It's okay to have few friends atleast they are real. Making friends is hard and no one can convince me otherwise. People's intentions to you are confusing nowadays and it's hard to trust another set of new people. I've realized that the amount of friends has nothing to do about how you enjoy your life. What's important is that you have friends who are honest as the day is long.

15. Listen more, say less. This year I've learned the value of lending ears to those who are in need of it and even to situations that require much understanding before saying an opinion to avoid any conflict.  Do not be easily carried away by your emotions to the extent that you're no longer thinking if what you are going to say is appropriate to the situation. On the other hand, there are times that people who are venting out their problems do not need any piece of advice, what they need is someone who is understanding enough to spend time listening to their rants.

16. Things that are gonna make your life more interesting are things that you should say yes to. — Taylor Swift

Progress doesn't come in the blink of an eye. You need to challenge yourself to do new things in order to make a progress. It is even more okay to step out of your comfort zone sometimes in order to grow. Life will be more interesting when you accept challenges with conviction.

17. Follow accounts on social media who are good for your mental health. Do yourself a favor and start unfollowing accounts that triggers your anxiety, insecurity and self-doubt. Your feed should only contain things that motivates you and people that inspires you to be like them. It should not be a place to start who-did-it-better or who's-best-at-life competitions.

18. Acceptance takes time. I have learned that it is okay to still question things that happened to you 6 years ago. It's okay to still cry everytime it pops up in your head, it's okay if you are not a hundred percent healed and it's okay to have a mind with not enough understanding about the situations that you've been to even if it happened a long time ago. God put you there for a reason. You have to keep in mind that acceptance has no definitive time frame. Healing doesn't wait for you to be ready for it. It will just happen.

19. Procrastination can ruin your goals in life.

There will be no further explanation, there will just be procrastination. 😎

[jesterofinaba]

“You always say that we’re the greatest family out there because we chose to be a family, and you’re right! If we hadn’t met that day, I don’t know where we’d be.” Not here, that much is certain. “We chose to get to know each other, chose to try new things with each other, you know the rest by now.” Dad knows she loves him and that’s the easy part; the hardest part is figuring out how to say it and Naoto wishes there was a machine that could convert pictures into a thousand words and even more.

“You’re always so patient with me, even when I’m being obnoxious. I remember all the times I’ve messed up and you’ve never yelled because you always want to know my perspective on what happened.” A little stern, but always fair. “You’re always looking out for me, you make great food, you and your eye roll worthy jokes can be funny sometimes, you’re a little sappy and the sappier you get, the more I feel like I’d die on the spot.”

But she’s tap dancing around the real reason why, isn’t she?

“We chose to be a family, but... you’re the one who taught me about what being a family really means. I was so convinced that it would always be broken because well, an alive kid and two dead parents doesn’t really make a whole. I thought I’d be stuck like that forever, holding onto the past and believing that I drew the short end of the stick and I had to accept it, but you changed that.”

It’s a little sad how she’s always close to tears whenever this topic comes up. “We might be a little broken compared to other families, but we’re still good, you know? And I think we kinda complete each other. I mean, look at us, you picked up some of my mannerisms and I picked up yours! So, yeah... I think we’re pretty whole.”

This is the part where she doesn’t make much sense, and as much as she teases Dad for being a sap, Naoto can’t deny an obvious fact. 

“I just... Thanks. For taking a chance on a random kid like me.”

(for all the families since you asked for it)

Tell my muse why you care about them. - No Longer Accepting

Adachi isn't sure what he's done to bring on an entire speech about how good of a family they are, how they saved each other, something he and Naoto always do on dour occasions in order to make the other feel better, important, and loved. It was something that Adachi learned quickly to word, Naoto as a little kid always shy and down on herself for feeling badly about her circumstances, but sometimes she would tell him, too.

This is one of those times, and like always, it makes a lump form in the Hierophant's throat and he tries his damnedest not to cry.

The smile that forms on his scarred face is enough to light up the room.

"Kiddo... that means the world to me, you know?"

If he shows any more how touched he is, Naoto is going to call him a sap, but Okuninushi weeping loudly in his head about how much he cares for his daughter isn't exactly helping him.

"I gotta thank you for taking a chance on me, too. I think it's pretty obvious when I first took you in that neither of us knew what we were doing... but I think we've gotten a lot better. We figured out how we could help each other like a real family does, and now I think we're a lot better than a lot of real families out there.

We're not exactly the most conventional family out there, but... broken doesn't mean it's bad. Kinda like a kintsugi cup... it means something more now that it's been fixed.

...I dunno what the hell I'm saying. I just... it means a lot to me, too. You have no idea how much you've helped me. You know, thinking I can make a difference, keeping me from overworking... wanting to be a good example for you and help you achieve your dreams and everything.

...So... thanks too, Naoto."

And he wraps her in a tight hug.

[religiously-abused]

Hi, specific question, I hope it's okay to ask. Do you know how to stay safe when leaving will never be an option? We/I have dissociative identity disorder from religious trauma, and one of us refuses to leave the church/faith. So I guess I'm just always stuck. Do you know of ways to at least ease anxiety while attending? Or ways to recover after having to go to a sermon, even if there was fear during it? (1/2)

I dont think he will ever change his mind, and I cant do anything abt it, I’m only a kid alter myself. I guess if you happen to have any tags about how to stay safe physically and mentally while unable to leave, that would be really awesone… thank you..!! -c

I would greatly discourage thing thinking that “leaving will never be an option” as through healing and communication, it is still very possible this alter will change. Especially if therapy is eventually a part of your recovery plan. In the case with DID/OSDD1, nothing is ever forever. Alters are dissociated parts and thus exist in flux whenever they experience the world, just like any other consciousness, and i as an alter can attest to that. I’d highly recommend non-church-loyal parts to start branching out to non-church communities and non-religious activities as that can be a huge step in the beginning for a system to eventually leave.

In the meantime, here’s some ideas for managing your current situation:

one major step our alters took in the early days of distancing ourselves from the faith and managing attendance triggered symptoms was not sitting directly in the main gathering space. we would often sit out towards the sides or in the back where mothers with babies would sit. this allowed us to still be in attendance but put space between us and the “performance” of attending church. it was also much quieter and less crowded which really helped reduce anxiety

journalling while in attendance (easier if you are sitting in the separated area) or immediately in the aftermath can make recovering short term much easier. the sooner you get the thoughts that are plaguing you out of your head, the sooner you will be able to process them objectively.

in journalling, remember to try noting why the thing plaguing you is not logical. this is hard to explain but writing where the contradictions in the faith are can help reduce guilt, anxiety, and self-blame.

bringing something to fiddle with can be really helpful. stim toys are a bit obvious, but spinner rings are both church appropriate and anxiety reducing, and can give you a much needed distraction during the service

not that i should encourage forms of mental escapism, i think it is okay to mentally escape in some circumstances. however, to avoid worsening dissociative conditions, i recommend doing some sort of active thinking. mental puzzles can be really helpful and keep you from fixating on the service itself. try reading a riddle before attending, finding some topic you would like to write an analytical piece about, or some other thing you can actively think about. this way you are not totally gone during the service, but are not experiencing it as mentally directly as before. this sort of separation can also be good for parts trying to break away from the faith

(i want to note that my personal experience limits my answer here. i was not the alter, or even part of the group of alters, that broke away from the church, and i split much later. my memory regarding how this was done is foggy at best. i do know that distancing ourselves from the church occured first by sitting farther away from the central activity, then attending slightly less frequently, then branching out to other communities that made us realize how messed up stuff was. around then, parts split specifically to help us escape, so its hard to know what exactly happened. im sorry i cant give specific instructions on how to help this alter understand the circumstances better. perhaps as i learn more, ill be able to write something informative about it)

-Mod L