#She's going to be fine but I'm still scared

[willowsnook]

Wouldn't have it any other way

rye with salami, ranch, and mikes way please and thank you! (idk if i did that right, i've never done this before)

jack hughes x reporter!reader

she isn’t you

——————————————————

Working as a reporter covering the NHL was a childhood dream of yours that came true. You worked your ass off in college, having internships each summer which led to an opportunity at ESPN that turned full-time after you graduated. You were ecstatic when they moved you to New Jersey to cover the Devils. It had been six months and so far you had gotten along well with all the players…well except one.

“Ya we got whacked two games in a row, so the last thing you want to do is stand and talk in front of you guys,” Jack Hughes told the small group of reporters crowding his locker, you included. You rolled your eyes which didn’t go unnoticed.

“Something to say, sweetheart?,” he said, eyes honing in on you.

You felt your cheeks flush with anger at his condescending tone. "It's our job to ask questions, Hughes. If you can't handle that, maybe you should find a new career."

The locker room fell silent, all eyes darting between you and Jack. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as he stepped closer.

"And maybe you should find a new team to cover if you can't handle a little attitude," he shot back.

The tension was palpable. You'd butted heads with Jack since day one, his arrogance rubbing you the wrong way. But this felt different, more charged.

"I can handle you," you replied, holding his gaze. "Question is, can you handle the heat when you're not performing on the ice?"

A collective intake of breath from the other reporters. Jack's eyes flashed dangerously.

"That's enough," the Devils’ PR manager said, ushering the reporters out of the locker room. You shot Jack one last glare as you followed the rest of the pool out. You knew you were going to get your ass chewed by your boss but you couldn’t help it. Jack was infuriating.

Unfortunately, your phone rang the second you were out of the arena and you listened to your boss rant at you. The moment was apparently already blowing up on social media and it was not a good look for you or Jack really. Half of the internet said you were too young to be in your job and wildly unprofessional while the other half defended you, calling Jack a dick who needs to respect women. There was another weird fan side of hockey twitter that were now actively shipping the two of you together, claiming it could be a perfect enemies-to-lovers story.

—————————————————————-

Headphones in, you watched workers out the window as they loaded luggage onto your plane. New Jersey to Vancouver was a long flight so you had splurged, upgrading yourself to first class to try maybe and get some actual sleep. The seat next to you was still empty and as the time ticked by you grew more hopeful that it would remain that way but nothing good lasts forever.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” a voice called out next to you and you looked up to meet the eyes of none other than Jack Hughes.

Your heart sank as Jack glared down at you, his tall frame looming over your seat. Of all the people to be stuck next to for a cross-country flight, it had to be him.

“Why aren’t you flying with the team?” You questioned.

“I overslept and missed the flight,” he muttered and you snorted.

Jack huffed as he stowed his carry-on and slid into the seat beside you. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. You both sat rigidly, avoiding eye contact as the rest of the passengers boarded.

As the plane began to move, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at Jack. His jaw was clenched, hands gripping the armrests tightly. Was he... nervous?

"You okay there, Hughes? Not scared of flying, are you?" you teased, unable to resist.

He shot you a withering look. "I'm fine.”

But as the plane started to take off his breathing grew more rapid and you started to get concerned. You hit a bit of turbulence trying to level out, and Jack’s hand moved towards yours, gripping it tightly.

“Sorry,” he rasped, but you kept your hand in his, caressing his skin softly with your thumb.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “Just try and breathe.”

“I’m trying,” he snapped and you rolled his eyes. “I need you to distract me.”

“How?”

“Just tell me something about you I don’t know,” he asked looking over at you pleadingly.

“Hockey isn’t my favorite sport,” you said instantly. It felt like your dirty secret being a hockey reporter, but it was the truth.

Jack let out a strained chuckle, “oh yeah, what is?”

“Football,” you replied and he nodded at you to keep going. “I fell in love with it when I was just a kid watching Brett Farve. Him leaving the Packers was my first real heartbreak in life. I like college football more now and while I love the atmosphere of hockey, there is nothing like a Saturday night home game in the palace. The lights illuminating the fields, the smell of popocorn and hotdogs, the fight song playing in the background, and everyone knows that $20 beer tastes better watching your favorite team. What’s more romantic than that?”

If Jack didn’t have the history he had with you, he thought he might have fell in love with you right then and there. His grip on your hand loosened slightly as he listened to you speak, his breathing becoming more even. He found himself captivated by the passion in your voice as you described your love for football.

"I never would have guessed," he said softly, a hint of a smile on his face. "You always seemed so... intense about hockey."

You shrugged, feeling a bit vulnerable having shared something so personal. "It's my job. I take it seriously."

"Maybe too seriously sometimes," Jack muttered, but there was no real bite to his words.

The plane leveled out and you both realized you were still holding hands. You quickly pulled away, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"Thanks," Jack said, avoiding your gaze. "For, you know... helping me through that."

You nodded, unsure how to respond. This was the most civil conversation you'd ever had with Jack Hughes, and it felt weird. The rest of the flight went by without a spectacle; you were happy to catch some shut-eye, and woke up as you were about to land, Jack nudging you awake. He grabbed your bag for you, and you followed him off the plane, stopping when he turned to face you.

“Back to our regularly scheduled business of hating each other,” he said with a smirk, and you laughed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way Hughes,” you shot back before heading off.

—————————————————————————

After a long call with your boss the next day, you were very irritated. Since the Devils were playing the Canucks, he wanted a short fluff piece about the Hughes brothers reuniting.

“It won’t be that bad,” Luke said after you tracked him down to tell him about the assignment. “You love me, and Quinn will love you.”

“I’m not worried about you two,” you told him with a look. “I’m worried about your other brother, who makes me want to jump off a cliff.”

“You’re dramatic,” he said, crossing his arms and you huffed. “We are all getting dinner tonight; just come with us. It’ll be a good chance to see us all off the ice.”

Later that night, you find yourself in the lobby with Luke, waiting on his brothers. Dressed down and out of your business wear, you felt more like yourself in a cute white sweater and jeans. Jack stepped out of the elevator and you immediately crossed your arms, already not in a good mood seeing him.

“Why is she here?” He asked Luke, completely ignoring you.

“She is writing a piece on the three of us, so I thought it would be nice to let her see the non-hockey side of things,” Luke explained and Jack groaned. Quinn stuck out his hand to introduce himself, and you smiled warmly at the oldest brother.

“So you’re the one who has little Jack by the balls?” He teased and Jack shoved him while you laughed.

You and Jack didn’t say a word to each other on the way to the restaurant and you luckily ended up being diagonal from him. It was a steakhouse but you weren’t that into steak so you opted for a grilled chicken salad with no tomatoes of course. Remembering that you were here for work, you kept quiet just observing the brothers.

"Remember when Jack tried to dye his hair blonde and it turned orange instead?" Quinn chuckled, earning a glare from Jack.

"Hey, at least I didn't cry when mom cut my mullet," Jack shot back, causing Luke to nearly spit out his drink.

You couldn't help but smile, seeing this different side of Jack. He was more relaxed, his guard down as he joked with his brothers. You caught yourself staring at him a few times, noticing how his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

The waiter soon returned with your food and you sighed as you watched your salad be placed in front of you with the tomatoes you had asked to be left out. You were never one to send something back, so you accepted your fate and unrolled your silverware.

“Everything look good?” The waiter asked. You nodded absentmindedly as Jack opened his mouth.

“She asked for no tomatoes,” he said, pointing to your salad. Your head snapped up and the waiter began to apologize.

“Oh it’s okay,” you said, trying to wave him off but Jack gave you a stern look that made you sit back.

“Don’t like tomatoes?” He mused. “Kind of childish, don’t you think?”

“You literally ordered a lemonade,” you shot back and his eyes narrowed at you.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s every kid’s favorite drink,” you retorted.

Jack scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Sophisticated Palette. Let me guess, you’re a black coffee type, right? So edgy.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your soda. “At least I don’t need a sugar rush to get through lunch.”

“And yet, here you are, drowning in soda. Classy.”

You gestured to his plate with a smug smile. “Says the guy who’s been avoiding the broccoli on his plate like it owes him money.”

Jack’s smirk faltered, and he glanced down at the offending vegetable. “It’s not avoidance. I’m saving the best for last.”

“Sure you are. Must be why it’s still untouched and getting cold.”

“You know, you’re a lot braver with your words when I don’t have a hockey stick in my hands.”

You shot him a fake, sweet smile. “And you’re a lot more tolerable when you keep your mouth shut.”

Quinn and Luke were thoroughly entertained as they observed the back-and-forth banter between you.

“You see what I have to deal with?” Luke said, looking at Quinn once you and Jack had finally stopped.

“Jack finally met his match,” he commented, prompting an eye roll from the mentioned brother.

The rest of the dinner passed with a mix of tension and grudging amusement between you and Jack, while Quinn and Luke kept the conversation flowing. As you all left the restaurant, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret at how quickly you and Jack fell back into your antagonistic pattern.

"So, got enough material for your fluff piece?" Jack asked sarcastically as you walked back to the hotel.

You sighed, "Probably. Though I'm not sure how to write about the Hughes brothers' dynamic without mentioning how insufferable one of them is."

Jack chuckled, surprising you. "Just make sure to mention how charming and handsome that one is too."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "In your dreams, Hughes."

As you reached the hotel, Luke and Quinn said their goodbyes, leaving you and Jack alone in the lobby. An awkward silence lingering in the air between you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He asked and you gave him a weird look, trying to figure out his angle.

“Where else would I be? I’m always front row waiting for you to mess up,” you joked and he gave you a playful frown.

“Very funny,” he said before bidding you goodbye and going up to his room. Things felt different between the two of you tonight, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

———————————————————————-

The Devils beat the Canucks handily and you found yourself with a couple of other reporters waiting for Jack, who had scored, and a new girl that you didn’t recognize.

“Hi Jack,” the girl called out as he got settled and he looked at her amused. She looked like a puck bunny who had snuck in; beach blonde hair, fake spray tan, low cut top, you knew the type. Jesus, what had gotten into you, you thought, trying to shake off your cattiness.

“Hey, haven’t seen you around before,” he commented and she giggled. Literally giggled in response. The other reporters were amused but you kept your lips in a firm line.

“You were so great out there; it’s so impressive how hard you work,” she said and he smiled awkwardly thanking her. “Do you ever get scared when the puck comes at you?"

You couldn’t help but snort out loud when she asked that and Jack looked amused at you.

Jack’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smirk growing wider before he turned back to the blonde with a practiced ease.

"So," he said, leaning casually against the bench, "you’re new to the media scrum, huh? They usually send someone more…" He glanced at you briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Experienced."

The girl giggled again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, well, I’m just filling in today. I guess I got lucky getting to talk to you."

"Guess I got lucky too," he said smoothly, his tone playful. "Usually, I’m stuck with—" He cut himself off, letting his eyes flick to you with mock innocence. "Well, people who don’t seem to enjoy the job as much as you do."

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your face neutral, scribbling something completely irrelevant in your notebook to avoid giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"So," the blonde continued, practically glowing under his attention, "what’s it like to be so focused all the time? You’re just so… intense on the ice."

Jack chuckled, shaking his head. "Takes a lot of practice. But I don’t think I’m half as intense as you just now."

Her eyes widened, and she laughed, her cheeks turning a shade pinker. "Oh my God, stop! I’m just trying to do my job."

"And you’re doing it very well," he replied, his voice low and charming.

You shut your notebook loudly, drawing Jack’s attention as you stormed out of the locker room, your cheeks flushed with anger and... something else you didn't want to acknowledge. You made it halfway down the hall before you heard footsteps behind you.

"Hey!" Jack's voice called out. "Where are you going?"

You spun around, glaring at him. "Away from that circus. I have actual work to do."

He jogged up to you, a mix of confusion and amusement on his face. "What's your problem? Jealous?"

"Jealous?" You scoffed, crossing your arms. "Of what? Your ability to charm airheads?"

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, that's pretty harsh. What happened to journalistic integrity?"

"What happened to professionalism?" You shot back. "Or do you always flirt with reporters during interviews?"

His expression shifted, a knowing smirk appearing on his face.

“You are jealous,” he said confidently and you were about to argue back but he grabbed a door handle behind you, yanking the door open and pulling you in it. It was a smaller equipment closet, but you didn’t have much time to look around before Jack had you tight against his body.

“She isn’t you sweetheart,” he said as your body flushed against his.

Your breath caught in your throat as Jack's words sank in. The closet suddenly felt much smaller, the air thick with tension. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his chest rising and falling against yours.

"What are you doing, Hughes?" you managed to whisper, your voice betraying your conflicted emotions.

His eyes searched yours, intense and unreadable. "Something I've wanted to do for a long time," he murmured before closing the distance between you.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and insistent. For a moment, you were too shocked to respond. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, you found yourself kissing him back with equal fervor. Your hands tangled in his hair as his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

The kiss was everything you never knew you wanted - passionate, electrifying, and months of frustration bubbling over. His hands moved under your shirt and up your back as his touch burned your skin. Resting your head back against the wall, he took advantage, latching on to your neck, sucking harshly.

“More,” you gasped. “I need more.”

He pulled your shirt over your head and you unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes glazed over, looking at your chest and you smirked before tugging at his shirt. He lifted it off and you admired his toned body, tracing your finger down his abs. His breath hitched as he watched you and you smirked seeing the bulge against his sweats get bigger.

Jack's eyes darkened as he watched your finger trail down his abs. In one swift motion, he lifted you up, pressing you against the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips found yours again in a searing kiss as his hips ground against you, eliciting a soft moan from your throat.

"God, you drive me crazy," he breathed against your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Your hands roamed his broad shoulders and back, relishing the feeling of his muscles flexing under your touch. Jack's mouth moved lower, trailing hot kisses down your collarbone to your breasts. You arched into him as he took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

"Jack," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair. He looked up at you, a mix of lust and something softer. “I need you in me.”

“Let me savor this sweetheart,” he pouted and you shook your head.

“Not the time or place,” you argued back and he sighed. Pulling down his pants, you spit into your hand before bringing it to his cock, pumping a few times, causing him to hiss. Shimmying out of your pants, you let him lift you against the wall, angling himself at your entrance.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

“Just this once,” you said and he rolled his eyes.

“We’ll see,” he replied and you started to argue back but he pushed in and your head fell forward onto his shoulder.

Jack began to move, thrusting into you with a steady rhythm. You clung to his shoulders, biting back moans as he hit just the right spot with each stroke. The closet filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the slap of skin on skin.

"God, you feel amazing," Jack groaned, his pace increasing. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, urging him deeper.

"Harder," you demanded, nails digging into his back. He complied, slamming into you with renewed vigor.

The tension that had been building between you for months was finally finding release. Every thrust, every touch was electric. You couldn't get enough of him.

"I'm close," you panted, feeling the familiar tightening in your core. Jack slipped a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he urged and you cried out, his hand coming up to muffle the noise. Riding out your orgasm, you were clenching hard around him and he grunted as he kept up the pace, pounding into you.

As your walls continued to contract around him, Jack couldn't hold back any longer. He buried his face in your neck, groaning out your name as he spilled into you.

For a few moments, all that could be heard was your heavy breathing as you both came down from the intense high. Jack leaned his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your skin. You both took a few minutes to catch your breath before Jack slowly pulled out of you. You winced slightly and Jack gave you a concerned look. He handed you your clothes and you quickly put them back on, refusing to look at him.

“Y/n,” he said softly and you finally looked over at him. His face was flushed, hair all over the place, but the look he was giving you made you want to take your clothes right back off.

“This was just two people blowing off steam, nothing more,” you said and he grinned widely.

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I hook up with that other girl next time instead?” He asked and you frowned before quickly morphing into a neutral expression but Jack had already caught it.

“Ugh,” you exclaimed before opening the door slowly, peeking out before you walked out. Jack was right behind you and you thought the coast was clear until you walked right into Quinn and Luke. You froze and felt Jack still behind you as he saw his brothers.

“What were you two doing?” Luke asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

“We were just talking,” you defended, not meeting his eyes.

“Oh yeah? In the supply closet?” Quinn teased.

“It was quieter than the locker room,” Jack said.

“Didn’t sound that quiet,” Quinn shot back.

Your face burned with embarrassment as Quinn's words sank in. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Jack or his brothers, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

"I... I have to go," you mumbled, pushing past Luke and Quinn without meeting their eyes. You practically ran down the hallway, desperate to distance yourself and the Hughes brothers as much as possible.

Once safely in your hotel room, you collapsed onto the bed, burying your face in your hands. What had you done? Hooking up with Jack Hughes in a supply closet was bad enough, but getting caught by his brothers? Your career could be over if word got out.

Your phone buzzed with a text. Hesitantly, you checked it, half-expecting it to be Jack. Instead, it was from Luke:

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with us. But you might want to figure your shit out with Jack ;)”

You groaned, turning over, trying not to think about what happened in the closet or what it meant for you and Jack.

[kirain]

Rook/Emmerich fic Rook/Emmerich fic ROOK/EMMERICH FIC!

Lmfao! Here you go, anon.

The room was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the hearth and the scratching of Emmrich's quill against parchment. His study was dimly lit, the warm glow of candlelight dancing across his cluttered desk, laden with books, maps, and papers detailing plans too dangerous to speak of. Though nothing was more dangerous than the journey he was about to embark on, the reality of death pervading his mind.

With a dejected sigh, he dipped his quill one last time, the ink glistening as he signed his name with a flourish.

"Darling!" he called as Vae entered, her cerulean eyes grabbed his attention. "I'm just finishing reviewing my bequeathments. It made me consider… a topic I must broach." He stood to face her, nervously rubbing his hands. "The eve before we kill a god, my thoughts turn to mortality. And what we are to each other."

Vae tilted her head, her smile laced with curiosity. "All right."

Emmrich paused, his expression uncertain, as though balancing on the edge of a precipice. "Even under the best circumstances, you will outlive me, Rook. You've… grown to mean much to me and… I care for you, Rook! Deeply. But there are such years between us, I shouldn't heap you with that burden."

Her smile faded, replaced by something softer, more sincere. "I get it. You're scared because you love me."

"What?" His voice faltered, betraying his usual composure. He could sense she was teasing him, despite the gravity of his insinuation.

"It's fine to say it," she pushed, searching for something he wasn't ready to give.

"I can't… at my—"

"You're older than me. I get it." Her words were firm but devoid of judgment, though Emmrich still thought she was joking.

"I'm perfectly serious," he replied, his tone heavy with exasperation.

"So am I!" she snapped back, her patience slipping. "Why are you making this such a big deal?"

"One of us has to pay attention to these things," he countered, his words coming out sharper than intended.

"One of us needs the guts to say how he feels!" Vae's voice rang out, rousing and raw. There was no anger in it—just frustration born from longing.

Emmrich froze, his eyes widening, a flicker of shock breaking through his unflappable facade. For a moment, it seemed as though he had something to add; some rehearsed reply teetering on the edge of his lips. But then, as if overwhelmed by Vae's very presence, he looked away, his shoulders sinking.

The silence that followed stretched on for far too long, thick and uncomfortable. Vae stared at him, willing him to speak, to mend the gap he'd suddenly torn between them. She could feel her pulse quicken, her anger rising with every second that passed without a response, but his eyes remained fixed on the floor.

His refusal to meet her gaze, to give her the acknowledgment she so desperately craved, stung more than the words he hadn't said. But soon her anger crumbled into something worse—disappointment. She could feel it welling up inside her, making her chest clench against her ribs as the realisation settled: he wasn't going to say anything. He wasn't going to do anything.

A sharp ache pierced her wounded heart, but she couldn't force him to speak, and she didn't want to. Slowly, she let her arms drop to her sides. "Look, I... let's pack. Eve before we face a god, right?"

The older man straightened up. He wanted to apologise, but amidst his creeping guilt all he could muster was, "As you say."

The look on Vae's face mounted his guilt tenfold. He could see the hurt in her eyes, much to his dismay. He caused it, and for that he'd never forgive himself.

As she turned away, he lowered his head in shame, every nerve ablaze. He knew he should say something, but for once his extensive vocabulary failed. So many words, so many meanings, and yet none seemed sufficient. Fear, degradation, the weight of his deepest insecurities, and the thought that Vae would one day have to mourn him, alone and heartbroken, chipped away at his sensitive soul.

He kept quiet, even as his inner voice screamed for her to stay. Only Manfred's inquisitive hiss jolted him from his stupor, earning him a rare look of reproach.

"Don't start," he grumbled, his eyes drifting back to Vae.

The further she moved, the more every instinct screeched at him to call out, to bring her back, to make things right. But the words stuck in his throat, his feet rooted to the spot. He could taste the cowardice in his hesitation, and the helplessness of watching her saunter away, but he convinced himself it was better. For her, it was better. His desires didn't matter.

"Actually... no," she whispered, stopping just shy of the door. "No, we're not leaving it like this."

He flinched as she marched back to him, her expression indomitable. "Rook?"

She raised a respectful hand. "Emmrich, do you really think I never considered your age?"

His fingers twitched. "I..."

"Because I did. Of course I did."

"Darling—"

"My parents were murdered, Emmrich. Right in front of me", she said quickly, causing him to wince. "My poor, sweet baby brother, too." She looked away, her brow arching. "I watched them die. I watched..." Tears prickled at the back of her eyes, but she swallowed loudly, forcing them down.

"Oh, Vaelyn..." Emmrich struggled. He reached out to comfort her, but thought better of it, worried she'd recoil in disgust. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you relive that awful memory."

She shook her head, meeting his gaze once more. "I know what it's like to love someone and lose them long before you should. But I've chosen to face that pain again... because it's worth it. You're worth it, Emmrich." Her words were like a physical blow, but she wasn't finished. "Not having you in my life, not because of the inevitable, but because you're too scared to share the time you have... hurts more than I can bear. Worse than losing you naturally."

Emmrich stood speechless, struck by the depth of her confession. He knew there was nothing he could say to undo the pain he'd caused her, but Vae wasn't looking for an apology. She was telling him what she needed, what she wanted. The truth.

"If you think you're the only one tortured by the concept of time," she added, her voice faint, "you're wrong. I think about my brother every day. About the time he lost. He was so much younger than me, Emmrich. So full of life he deserved to live." She took a breath, a brief respite. "But I also think about the time we had together, and that makes me smile. I'm glad I had him, for however short or long it was." Her eyes softened, and she reached out to touch his arm. "If you care about me, then stop hiding behind your age. Because you're right—we don't have forever. We only have the here and now, but that's enough for me."

Emmrich remained silent, his heart pounding like a drum. His thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions, more wild and unpredictable than he'd ever allowed. He hadn't known the full weight of what she carried—the profound, unstoppable pain. Yet there she was, choosing him despite it all.

The guilt he felt for holding back, for trying to reject her in the coldest way, washed over him like a ruinous flood. And in the quiet aftermath of her words, there was a part of him that felt something shift; a crack in the armour he'd built for himself.

Suddenly, before Vae could react, he pulled her into a tight, penitent hug. His arms wrapped around her with a force that conveyed everything he hadn't been able to say, his face burying itself in her lush, floral-scented hair.

"I'm so sorry," he whimpered. "I've been such a fool. I never wanted to hurt you. Never." He squeezed tighter, as if trying to make up for the rift he'd thrust between them.

At first, Vae didn't respond, her body stiff in his embrace, but being held with such genuine remorse, his arms trembling with self-condemnation, shattered her resolve. The fight swiftly left her mind, her hands riding up his back as she melted against him.

"Emmrich..."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice hoarse. "You were right, I was scared. Unfathomably scared."

Vae shook her head, clinging to his shirt in an attempt to soothe him. "Don't apologise for being scared. Just... don't shut me out. Please."

"I won't," he said, his bare hand moving to cradle her head. "I won't shut you out. Not again. I promise."

[nabsthevulture]

We just dropped Mugsie off at the vet for her surgery

please wish her good luck

[benoitblanc]

no no you guys don't get it. the x files cancer arc was, excuse the pun, a fucking white whale of a tv plotline that would not have worked nearly as well on literally any other show. it was a complete hail mary. the writers' room nearly didn't make it happen because they were worried it would fall too deeply into soap opera territory. and on any other show, it would! but the x files is about four key things: mistrust in the government, faith in both science and the otherworldly, building a life around trauma, and the fine line between love and codependency. it is the only show where the entirety of this situation- a government experiment on an unwilling young catholic leads to a terminal illness that is counteracted by a literal scientific miracle in the eleventh hour due to her partner's refusal to accept her impending death- could both happen at all and happen well. none of the themes in the cancer arc were new to txf at all. they'd all been lurking, to some extent, in the background since the pilot. the cancer arc wasn't merely milking a left-field catastrophe for the drama, it shoved the overarching themes of the show to the front and said look. look what these people are to each other. look how impossible it is to face the darkness alone. regardless of when the plotline was conceived, it was always going to happen. it was the only way the story could have ever gone. they were always doomed from the beginning

[iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid]

having a really old dog is just repeating the mantra to yourself "i am grateful for the time i've been given and when it comes time to let him go i will do so gracefully. i am grateful for the time i've been given and when it comes time to let wait why are you not pooping normally WHAT IS GOING ON WHY WON'T YOU POOP ARE YOU DYING" and then calling the vet in a panic, being told actually he's fine but give the probiotic some time to do its thing and then let us know if anything changes, and then you take a deep breath and go "cool. yeah. obviously he's fine. anyway. i am grateful for the time i've been given and

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

if dorian didn't show up, do you think louis would have shot minnie?

I do. I know some people think either he wouldn't have or he would've missed so that's why the writers had him shoot Dorian instead, but mmmmmm no, I don't personally think so. I like to think that if he had taken the shot, his shaky hands would've caused him to shoot her fatally.

Mostly because I'm already so normal about the fact that of the Ericson crew, Marlon and Louis are the only ones with a body count. Well, that we know of, but shown to us in the game, at least. Plus, we know it's Louis' first kill.

Like yeah, Clementine and AJ become part of the crew and they have bigger body counts, and if we're counting indirect kills caused by actions, then Tenn has a count... and I guess everyone has blood on their hands for blowing up the boat... but I'm talking about killed directly with a weapon like....... I lied, I'm not normal about that at all, Louis and Marlon are the ones who have killed someone in Louis' route. I'm also not normal about the fact that Louis kills Dorian and then even as he's clearly in shock, he tries to go with Clementine to get AJ, and then later on when they talk about it, he says it feels like bile but not quite and he's glad he has it in him to do it.... listen, listen, listen... I'm obsessed with that.

Anyway, so if Louis shot Minerva, I think he would've accidentally killed her and can you imagine? He's already enough of a mess after killing the woman who pinned him down and tried to cut his finger off [or succeeded] but he knew Minerva, they were friends before the twins were taken. Even Violet couldn't kill her even though that would've been the smarter thing to do, and we know thanks to meta knowledge that killing her would've saved lives, but Violet couldn't, and I don't think Louis would intentionally either.

Speaking of Violet, if Louis killed Minerva, I hate to think about what that would've done to Vi. I think she might've actually left at that point, like what was planned before it got changed to her being burned. I don't think she would've attacked Louis over it, though, like yeah she attacked Clementine in the cell but Louis? I don't know, but I don't think so just because it's Louis and he'd be a mess about it anyway.

Though if he did kill her, it would be a neat parallel to draw... y'know, because Louis forgave AJ for killing Marlon even though he was pissed and heartbroken, and Violet was annoyed with him the entire time... but could she ever forgive Louis for killing Minerva? Y'know? We already have a similar parallel with AJ shooting Tenn, but still.

If Clementine killed Minerva in that moment, though, then I could see Violet attacking her since in her eyes, Clem proved her right.

So yeah, I get why they added the Dorian kill to his route. It adds another compelling element to Louis as a character, but we also need Minerva alive for episode 4; Louis can't kill her, he can't miss, and he's not going to stay with her because we need Violet to stay on the boat and him to be on shore for all routes.

[running-in-the-dark]

I've got an appointment with my psychiatrist tomorrow, and I'm getting my conch piercing swapped out for a shorter one. that's gonna be stressful 🙃

[roughlytwentytwofrogs]

Very funny that out of the 3 feral 2month old kittens we have to socialize rn, it's miss umbilical hernia who's been turned around and over and under by the vet for a good half hour yesterday to see if said hernia was an emergency that's the most confident. You'd think she'd still hate me after yelling at me for an hour thru the car ride and the appointment but naaaah, scritches are good actually

One of them is still hissing and running whenever i breathe too loud, but girly jumped on my lap to headbutt me no pressure at all.

[nowendil]

.

[rragnaroks]

i think i've healed enough to finally get past the embarrassment this first one brings me so here goes

Things That Should Have Made People Realise I Was Neurodivergent, But Didn't, Because I Was a Good Kid Who Didn't Cause No Trouble And Masked Like A Good Girl:

that time in second grade when the class was playing outside on a hot day, and a boy took off his shirt. no one yelled at him. i was also very hot. now of course no one saw my internal debate, and trying to suss out what would be socially acceptable by using logic, but i came to the conclusion that since I was 8 years old and was personally nowhere near starting puberty, it would be okay for me to take off my shirt too. i happily played shirtless for a while, although i could definitely feel the weird looks my classmates were giving me. i wasn't confident in my assessment but i was willing to defend my logic and position. i was right and if the others disagreed, they were the weird ones. a teacher passed by in a hurry and yelled at me to put my shirt on in a scandalised tone. she didn't yell at the boy. nothing further ever came of it.

[ruvviks]

job interview tomorrow yeehonk

[gabriellovescandy]

Kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me

[sprolden]

rereading twilight and nostalgia is making it an enjoyable experience overall but honestly i was not ready for how genuinely horrible and terrifying edward is. some of this is straight out of a horror movie

[canine-teethed-sheets]

okay.

i can't hide everything.

mom's not gonna be happy about it. she's definitely gonna scold me.

scared. but.

it's fine.

it's the internet!! there are things that can't be blocked or hide. it's fine.

it's going to be fine. just try not to panic. just don't panic.

you're old enough to handle things. stop crying.

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

Hi, so uh i just found your posts recently and uh i really like your arts and artstyle! Its just look so beautiful and i want to give you an appreciate art to tell you how pretty you and your arts are.

Sorry that my English sound crappy- also since i dont really have Kross sooo uh i hope you dont mind me giving you Killer? ^^" sorry, im really nervous to talk to somebody as you cool as you are heh!

**************

HFRYYAHHRFY!!!! OMG!!!! thank you sO much oh my gosh?? you're so sweet :'Dc <3333

[giomagnetism]