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thisapplepielife · 4 months ago

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Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember.

Oh, He Wants

Week #2 Prompt: Backseat/Clothes On/Bruise | Word Count: 4608 | Rating: E | POV: Steve | CW: Unprotected Sex, Bodily Fluids | Tags: Clothes On, Until They're Off, First Time, Virgin Eddie, Horny Boys in Love, Dry Humping, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Anal Sex, Barebacking

Note: It's backseat sex. Suspension of disbelief is often required for this trope. Like the Tardis, it's simply bigger on the inside than it appears, haha.

The windows are steamed up, condensation rolling down the glass, as Steve lays on top of Eddie, grinding down against him, over and over again. Steve kind of thought that was just a thing from movies, not something that actually happens in real life. But they've been at this for at least an hour, both breathing heavily, slowly heating up the car, literally fogging up the windows.

He feels his face flushing, and his chest is heaving as he keeps rutting against Eddie underneath him. Fingers digging into his arms, his shoulders, his neck. Probably hard enough to bruise. Just clinging to him anywhere he can reach.

It's slow, and steady, and the feeling of Eddie's cock pressed against his, even through all the layers of underwear and jeans, is really working for him. Steve's never been much of a backseat makeout kind of guy. He always had other places for that: Skull Rock. Under the bleachers. The last row of The Hawk. Not to mention there's never been a bedroom window he hasn't been willing to crawl through to fool around with a girl right in her own bed, her parents none the wiser.

But with Eddie? He'll get into the cramped backseat and love it. All day, all night, because he gets it now. He understands, wholly. The thrill of feeling like they are sneaking around, of getting by with something, even if they have other places to be together in private other than an abandoned dirt road.

They could hole up in Steve's big, empty house. Or at Wayne's place when he's gone at work all night. And they have. Make-out sessions that leave them both gasping for breath, needing, wanting.

Jeans, underwear sticky from coming in them as they pushed each other over the edge.

But this is different. Illicit and thrilling. He could take Eddie to a bed, he has every opportunity. Instead, they're here. Pulled off along a dead end dirt road.

And it's good. The shared breaths, the confined space, all of it.

It's a heady mix of lust, and love. Steve's fallen fast, and hard. Just like he always does. He'll never learn, and he knows he's probably headed for another heartbreak after Eddie's wrung out everything he wants from him, leaving the rest.

Tonight they've kissed so much, so hard, Steve's sure his lips are bruised at this point. But he can't get enough of Eddie. He'll never get enough. He almost lost him before he'd even found him, and he's not gonna waste another minute more.

For as long as this lasts, he's all in. He's gathered up the pieces of his broken heart before, and he could do it again. Would do it again, for Eddie.

It's worth it. Eddie's worth it. Love, too. He's probably hopeless. Robin would definitely say so, but he wants it so fucking bad. To be loved. To be someone's first pick, to go in the first round, to build a dynasty together.

Okay, maybe the sports metaphors are a bit much, especially for Eddie, who wouldn't appreciate them. But Steve feels like he's been drafted to the future he wants, if he can only hold onto it, long term.

Eddie is everything he's been looking for. He loves him. He's sure of it, even if that's never been spoken between them.

Steve pulls back to suck in a quick breath, all panting and soft eyes, "Hi."

Eddie smiles, lips swollen and red, "Hi."

And Steve dives back in. Pressing his lips to Eddie's neck, his tongue sneaking out to taste salty skin. All he wants is this. To lay here and kiss, and grind, and just be close to each other. Nothing else to worry about other than this minute, and the one that follows after.

It might last a month, a year, or a lifetime. Tonight though, he's drunk on the feeling of Eddie under his body, the way they can't seem to get enough of each other. Hands roaming, bodies crushed together.

Steve hasn't felt like this in a long fucking time, if ever. This attracted to someone. Just being with them because you can.

Because you want to.

And Steve? He wants to be with Eddie in all the ways.

"Here. Let me readjust," Eddie says, and Steve lifts up his hips, as Eddie sticks his hand down in his jeans, under the waistband without unbuttoning them, into his boxers. It's fucking hot, for some reason.

To see his whole hand disappear, knowing what he's doing. Steve wants that to be his hand. To close around the hard, silky warmth. To feel the weight against his palm. To see if holding another man's cock in his hand actually feels any different. He bets that it does.

Eddie makes the adjustment he needs to make, then pulls his hand back out, and Steve re-lowers himself again to reestablish contact.

Goddamn, now Steve can feel even more of his length. Hard and ready, under him.

He wants to put his mouth on him. Use every ounce of knowledge he has from girls sucking his cock, and apply them to doing the same to Eddie. Take all the best tricks and move forward, and leave all the worst ones behind in the past.

He rolls his hips, and Eddie moans, in response, and it makes Steve smile.

"Like that?" he asks, keeping up the same soft, slow roll of his hips.

"Fuck yeah, I like it," Eddie answers, breath catching in his throat, his hands finding Steve's hips, not forcing him to move any faster, nor any harder, just holding him, desperate to feel the motion they're making together.

To hear the sound of the rough denim scratching together in the quiet of the car. Steve had turned the key to accessory mode to keep the radio on, but that went off long ago, now. And he's glad. He just wants to hear the sound of Eddie's breathing, and the rustling noises of their bodies moving together.

They haven't shed a bit of clothing, but they don't need to. This is so good on its own.

He likes the cramped space, the feeling of being cocooned with him, like they are the only people on earth that matter at this exact moment in time.

Then, Eddie is twisting under him, and seems to be all knees and elbows. But he squirms, and Steve leans back to see where this is going. He's unsure, but vows to just stay out of his way, and let it play out. He'll follow Eddie's lead, no matter where he's headed.

Surprising Steve, Eddie rolls onto his belly, bumping and jostling Steve the whole time. And Steve watches, trying to let him get situated, just enthralled as Eddie's hands are clearly moving beneath him. Unbuttoning. Unzipping. Then he's pushing his jeans down onto his thighs. Plaid boxers still covering his ass.

Steve grips his hips, unsure.

Steve's not even sure what Eddie needs. Or what he needs. He's never had sex with a man before. He's willing, and he wants, oh, he wants, but he can't ask for what he's never had. He doesn't have the words.

He's not sure Eddie does either.

But he's pretty sure they can't fuck in a car. He doesn't know much, but he thinks he knows that.

He's satisfied with this, he'd be satisfied with anything, when it comes to Eddie.

Steve unbuttons his own jeans, pushing them down, and then presses his underwear-clad dick right against Eddie's ass. And presses down, testing, trying it out. He makes small thrusts against him, finding a rhythm and it must be right, because Eddie moans beneath him.

"Goddamn," Steve breathes out.

Steve's pretty sure Eddie wants this, maybe more, by the way he's providing the counterpoint. Pushing back, helping keep the rhythm.

He's never been with a guy before Eddie, but he's been with plenty of girls, and knows horny when he sees it. And Steve wants to fuck him. Wants to slide into him, feel their bodies connected and Eddie all around him.

Hell, he wants to rub off on him, just like this. Anything. Everything.

He just wants to make Eddie feel good. He wants them both to feel good.

"Is it good?" Steve breathes out.

And Eddie nods. Hair moving. Shaking up and down.

Steve takes a hand from one of Eddie's hips, and brushes the loose hair from his neck, and then bends down, kissing his slick skin.

Then, he wants to at least see more.

So, he pulls down Eddie's boxers, revealing the shock of white skin. He's so pale. Even here in the dark. Maybe even more now that he survived the bats. Like all that lost blood never quite returned to his circulatory system.

There are jagged scars on his hips, and Steve is familiar with those himself. But they are somehow opposites. Steve's sides still look webbed with streaks of white on tanned skin. Like they were able to heal, but not disappear. Only fading with time. In contrast, Eddie's are dark against his pale skin, still reddened.

They're different, but the same. A matched set, both having survived the same terrible version of hell together.

They made it. Just not unscathed.

And that's okay.

Then he grips both of Eddie's ass cheeks, and spreads them apart. It's dark in the car. Nearly too dark to see, everything hidden in shadow, but what he can make out by the moonlight is enticing.

He digs his fingers into Eddie's ass, kneading a little, and then lines up. Cock bumping against Eddie's asshole through the remaining layer of Steve's underwear, and it sends Eddie scrabbling at the leather seats, with no way to find purchase.

It feels good for Steve, and it clearly does for Eddie, too.

"Fuck me," Eddie whines, begging.

Steve can't fuck him. Can't just slide inside. No matter how much he wants to. Eddie's not slick and open and ready like a girl, even if he's just as willing.

But Steve brushes his thumb against his opening, then pulls his thumb back, licks it, getting it wet and sloppy with spit, and does it again. Pressing against his hole, but not trying to push inside.

Eddie arches off the seat, moaning.

Steve wants to eat him out. Eating pussy always got him going. Got his dick hard, and ready. He's absolutely certain eating Eddie's ass would do the same.

He doesn't know how they could possibly make room for that in here, though.

They'll have to do other stuff.

Steve presses himself upwards. As close to upright as he can get in the backseat of his car, his head and neck crammed against the roof, the soft lining tickling the back of his neck, as he unbuttons his jeans and wrangles them off his body, struggling with the lack of room.

But getting them off. Tossed out of the way.

And he knows shouldn't, but he does. He pushes his underwear down under his dick, and slides the head of his cock right against Eddie's hole. Pressing against him. Steve's leaking, because he's been leaking all fucking night, making a wet spot in his underwear, but now that helps slick the way.

Not enough to fuck, but enough to glide against him, definitely.

"This okay?" Steve asks.

"Yes, yes," Eddie answers, "fuck yes."

So, Steve takes his cock in hand, and rubs the head right against Eddie. And Eddie whines, and pushes back.

Another bead of precum slides out, right against Eddie's warm skin.

Maybe they could rut here until he finishes between his cheeks. Come splattering his hole. Fuck. The thought.

But there's more he wants to do first.

"Flip," Steve says, and with some sloppy, slightly dangerous maneuvering, Eddie does. Again on his back, looking up at Steve.

Steve pulls his own underwear back up, but forces Eddie's jeans and boxers down even further, until he can slip them off one of Eddie's legs, leaving them dangling off the other.

Then he heaves Eddie's legs over his shoulders, bumping them on the roof of the car, making Eddie fold himself nearly in half to make the angle in this limited amount of space work.

Eddie's cock is hard, wet and dripping at the tip, laying back against his belly, begging for attention. But Steve bypasses it. Instead, nudging behind Eddie's balls, and swiping his tongue against his hole.

Eddie keens, letting out a wild noise that makes Steve's cock throb in his underwear. Getting even wetter.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," Eddie whispers, mainly to himself, Steve thinks.

He looks fucking hot all contorted like this, spine bowed, hands in Steve's hair. Pulling. Tugging. Clawing.

And Steve keeps licking him, before pressing the tip of his tongue inside, making Eddie gasp. He wonders if he could eat him out enough to loosen him up to fuck.

He'd definitely be willing to try. It's musky and earthy, and not at all bad, even if he feels a little naughty doing this. Especially tasting the salty traces of himself there. As if he's staked his claim. As if the taboo-ness of it makes it even hotter.

Steve pulls back, and spits on his fingers. This isn't ideal. They can't go from zero-to-fucking, but that seems like exactly what they'd both like to happen tonight.

But he presses the tip of one inside alongside his tongue.

"I've never," Eddie groans, "uh, never even, oh fuck, gotten head. And Steve Harrington is eating my ass. What is happening?"

Steve stills at that. Well, leave it to him to skip a few bases.

He scoots forward, pressing his chest against the back of Eddie's thighs.

"Can I? Can I do that?" Steve asks, searching his eyes.

And Eddie nods, emphatically, "Fuck. Yes. Please. Anything. You can do anything."

He sounds shocked and borderline hysterical, but in a good way. A really, really good way.

Steve feels like maybe Eddie's gonna be his undoing. And isn't that a hell of a drug to have rushing through your veins?

Steve wants to slide into the floorboard, but his driver's seat is too far back.

He can fix that. He lowers Eddie's legs, and leans over the seat, reaching the lever, scooting it up as far as it'll go.

Then he wedges himself down on the floorboard, and cups Eddie's bare hips. Sliding the still dangling clothes off Eddie's leg, and tosses them up front with his own, out of the way. Eddie's still got his shirt on, but so does Steve, and that's okay. Kinda hot, even.

He takes in the sight of Eddie laying there, cock hard, the base surrounded by wild, dark hair. Even his cock looks like it belongs on Eddie, somehow.

He's gorgeous.

"You're gorgeous," Steve tells him, meeting his eyes.

"Stop," Eddie whines, looking embarrassed. He shouldn't be. He is gorgeous. How nobody else ever did this for him, how they never wanted to see him looking like this, is actually insane. Crazy.

Steve presses both thumbs onto the dips of his hips, "If you actually want me to stop, say so. If not, I'm gonna eat you alive."

Eddie's dick jerks and bounces at that promise, and Steve grins, "That's what I thought."

He wraps his hand around Eddie's girth, sliding, giving a slow stroke, before pushing his hand down towards the base of his dick to keep his pubes out of the way, and out of his mouth. Then he lowers his head, sliding the head of Eddie's cock between his lips. Eddie's never gotten head, and Steve's never given it, but they're in this thing together now.

And Steve couldn't be happier about it.

He glides his mouth up and down, not going too far, definitely not brave enough to take him very deep. Eddie doesn't seem to mind, with all the noises he's making. So, Steve keeps it up. Finds a rhythm, using his mouth, his hand, and it doesn't take long.

Steve feels Eddie's dick harden further, knows that tell-tale sign.

"I'm gonna," Eddie says, and Steve nods, squeezing his hip with his free hand.

And Eddie does. Comes in his mouth, and Steve doesn't know what to do with it. He holds it there for a few seconds, and then lifts his shirttail, and spits in it.

Maybe not the first choice, but it worked, and Steve pulls his now wet shirt over his head, tossing it away with their jeans.

Eddie claws at him, pulling him towards his face, and Steve kisses him. Over and over. Hoping he's tasting himself on Steve's tongue.

Eddie tilts his head, pulling back, and Steve lets him go.

"I. I need," Eddie says, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

"What do you need?" Steve asks, hand brushing the hair off his forehead, to get a better look at him. He'll give him anything.

"I need you to eat me out some more," Eddie says, head twisted to the side, not looking at Steve. As if he's embarrassed to ask for this.

"Yeah?" Steve asks, surprised, but happy.

And Eddie nods.

Steve maneuvers his body backwards towards the other door, and then gets Eddie's legs up over his shoulders again, and goes all in. Licking, pressing in with his tongue. Eddie's whole body is loose from his orgasm, and sliding the tip of his tongue inside is a little easier, now. So, he licks, and presses his tongue flat against the furled skin, loving the sounds Eddie makes. Breathy moans, heady whines.

"Steve, Steve," Eddie says, "Can you? Can you fuck me?"

Steve brushes his thumb against Eddie's sweat-slick skin, "Are you sure? We don't have to do this now. We can wait. Do it right."

"Do it now," Eddie begs, "do it, do it."

Okay, Steve will do it now. If he can. If he has anything to make that happen. He digs around in his bag on the other side of the floorboard, and comes up with a strip of three condoms. But nothing to use as lube.

The condoms are lubricated, and he opens all three, sliding one on his dick, and then getting all the lube off the others as best as he can. With that, and the foreplay, he thinks it just might be enough.

It's not a lot of lube to work with, but he's finally knuckle deep, and Eddie's making good noises. Which he finds encouraging.

"Have you ever?" Steve asks, twisting his finger, and then adding a second. Eddie groans, and presses back against his hand. And well, he's not acting like this is the first time something's been in his ass.

"Only to myself," Eddie says, and Steve puts that on the list of things to try alone, now. To see what it feels like. Steve wishes Eddie were slicker, but this is what they've got to work with.

He'll have to see if it's enough, now.

"If it hurts, let me know. We'll stop."

"I like a little pain," Eddie admits.

"Well, if it's bad pain and not the good kind, speak up," Steve tells him. He definitely doesn't want to hurt him. What a shitty first time that would be.

Eddie nods, and Steve starts pressing the head of his cock against Eddie with steady, solid pressure. Not rushing, but not pussy footing around, either. He's not scared of sex. It's one thing that he feels confident about, and he can't see why that'd change today.

But it's not slick enough. Eddie doesn't give under him. Not at all. Fuck.

He pulls back.

"What? No," Eddie says, reaching for him.

"This is gonna hurt like this, there's gotta be something in here we can use," Steve says.

Because there has to be something. Anything.

And he hits the jackpot. A bottle of aloe vera in the console. Left over from summer, he's sure. When the girls wanted to get oiled up to tan faster, and Robin just burned. Badly.

He squirts some on his fingers, and presses one inside Eddie. The sound Eddie makes is something he'll take to the grave. It was that good.

Once he has him slicked up and even more open, he's gone a little soft from the concentration, and when he tries to get filled out and the condom back on right, it tears. Fuck. And he used all the others he had trying to get some lube off of them.

He crawls on top of Eddie, putting the bottle down by his head, "Please tell me you have a condom in your wallet.

"I don't," Eddie admits.

And Steve punches out a breath, cupping Eddie's cheek, "That's okay. Next time."

He presses his mouth to Eddie's, tongue sliding back in. Eddie wraps one arm around his back, and tilts up his hips.

Then he takes his other, working it between them, guiding the tip of Steve's cock right against him.

And Steve moves his hips to rub against him.

"Oh," Eddie breathes out, "Oh, Jesus Christ. Fuck. Goddamn."

Steve grins, "That's what I like to hear."

And Eddie laughs. Steve likes to hear that even more.

"Fuck me," Eddie says.

"I don't have-"

"And I don't care right now. I've never been with anyone, so this is your call."

Steve's good. Eddie knows it, too. Robin made them all get tested at some event in Chicago, where she was stretching her little lesbian wings, both of them just along for the ride.

They shouldn't. But they could.

"Steve."

And Steve nods.

He inches in, head of his cock popping past that tight ring of muscle, then letting Eddie adjust. Even as it feels like a fucking vice grip on his dick. He wonders what it feels like to be on the receiving end. He hopes he gets to be on the other side of this, and soon.

"I can't wait until I get to do this," Steve says, because he can't. He wants it. He wants it all.

"I'm almost ready, I think," Eddie answers, and Steve screws up his face, thinking. Finally realizing.

"Not that," Steve says, hands running down Eddie's thighs, loving the feel of the hair there, tickling his palm. He's so fucking bisexual that he isn't sure how he ignored it until Eddie. Like, it seems absurd, now.

"Not that, take all the time you need," Steve says, reaching his hand down, touching where they are connected. "This. I can't wait until you fuck me. If you want to. Do you want to?"

"Fuck, Steve," Eddie says, "of course I want to. But if you keep making me think about that, I'm gonna come again before we even get started."

Steve might just have the same problem. He's never been inside anyone without a condom before, and he's never done anal at all. He's overwhelmed, overstimulated, in the best way.

Steve chuckles, stroking Eddie's skin, laying a kiss on the inside of his knee, then resting his cheek there, eyes still gazing towards Eddie's face, "Okay. I'll quit."

"Thank you," Eddie teases, rocking back just a little, clenching down on Steve.

Testing. Trying it out. And even if it's hard to stay still, so hard Steve swears he's about to break a sweat from it, he lets Eddie go at his own pace until he's sliding up and down on Steve's cock.

It's over fast. Before it really starts, honestly. They just barely get a rhythm going, Eddie fisting his own dick, then groaning as he clenches down on Steve as he comes. That's all it takes, Steve has to make a decision, "In or out?"

"Are you crazy? In," Eddie demands, tightening his legs around Steve, punctuating his answer. Steve thrusts a handful more times, uneven and hurling towards the point of no return, before following him over the edge.

Coming inside Eddie.

Goddamn.

After he catches his breath, he slips out, watching, and slides back into the floorboard, knees against rough carpet, and immediately presses his tongue to Eddie's cock-loosened hole.

"Oh, fuck. I died. I died, the bats got me, and this all in my poor, oxygen deprived head," Eddie rambles, and Steve pulls back to laugh. That's when he sees that Eddie has the back of his hand on his forehead, like he's in fear of fainting.

He's ridiculous.

"I'm hypoxic."

So ridiculous.

"Not likely."

And Steve puts his tongue back on Eddie, in him, tasting himself. And the bitter aloe. But mainly himself. He's fucking his tongue in and out, just eating him the fuck out some more. If Eddie wants this, Steve's happy to be face-deep forever.

In fact, this is gonna be his new thing. He's decided.

He gets lost in the feeling. He only takes breaks to bury his nose in Eddie's pubes, inhaling the musky smell of him. He feels like a pervert, but doesn't fucking care. Eddie's a self-proclaimed freak, and by god, Steve's gonna be a freak right along with him.

"Steve. Steve," Eddie says, and Steve finally pulls back. Eyes heavy, and hooded.

"Oh, fuck," Eddie says, pulling on him, tugging until he slides up his body, mouths sliding together, slick.

Getting lost in just being together. Basking in the afterglow, the heady smell of sex surrounding them in the car.

Bodies grinding. And Eddie is hard again, but so is Steve. How long was he down there? And when can he go back?

Eddie starts wiggling, and rolls over, again. Like he can't stay still. But it's worth it. Now, his ass is right there. Pretty, used hole looking right back at Steve.

He's gonna put his tongue in it again.

"Again," Eddie says, and Steve doesn't need to be told twice. He moves to scoot down, but Eddie whines, "Your dick. Not your tongue, even if that's gonna be the star of every wet dream I have from now until my inevitable demise."

"Okay, okay," Steve says, smiling at his weird, but endearing, rambling as he slicks himself back up, squirting more aloe on Eddie, watching as he jumps, "Sorry. Cold, I know."

Then he slides right back inside. No resistance now, all slick give, and soft moans. Hole gripping him, sucking him in, as if it wants him there as much as he wants to be there.

Fucking him for real this time. The edge off, so he's able to actually set a rhythm. And in the moonlit car, he watches his cock slide in and out of Eddie.

Then he slides all the way out, and rubs the head of his cock against the warm, welcoming opening, the place he's meant to be, just teasing Eddie as he gets to watch. The sight of Eddie stretching, opening, as the head of his cock finally slips back inside, is so fucking hot.

"I wish you could see this," Steve says, then adds, "because, fuck, I love…this," Steve says, catching himself, pivoting his words, and Eddie laughs, which makes him clench around Steve.

"I love you, too," Eddie says, not letting him get by with it, and Steve presses in all the way, stopping. Chest heaving, tears burning his eyes.

"You do?" Steve asks, desperate for that to be true.

"Don't be obtuse," Eddie says, and Steve's not exactly sure what that means, but he gets the message. Loud and clear. And then Eddie doubles down, and it's music to Steve's ears, hearing him say, "Of course I love you."

Steve pulls almost all the way out, and slams back in. A punctuation, as he says, "I love you. I love you, too."

And he fucking does.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesmuttyseptember and follow along with the filthy fun! 💦

#steddie smutty september #week two #prompt: backseat #prompt: clothes on #prompt: bruise #steddie fic #steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #steddie smut #stranger things fic #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: smutty september

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scienceandfandoms · 10 months ago

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I was talking on Discord and accidentally spent an hour giving my thoughts on how well each new Who companion could take care of a baby. Note that I think most everyone on this list is capable of taking care of a baby for some amount of time. As such I'm adding how long I think they could do so/additional stipulations in bold. Also of note that a lot of these depend on when in their timeline we mean. I split some ratings based on this. Also also this is just for fun

So without further ado... How well New Who companions would do taking care of a baby (under the cut)

Rose Tyler: When we meet her she is so so young to be caring for an infant for a significant amount of time. But by the end of her time on screen? Sure. In EU content she's even got a kid. Rating: a few days at the start, long term at the end

Mickey Smith: Era specific. Definitely not for early Mickey. But once he's matured after spending time in Pete's World he could probably do it. Rating: maybe for an afternoon at the start, long term at the end

Captain Jack Harkness: Has had children canonically. This does not, however, fill me with confidence. Probably knows how to keep them alive more or less though unless their death would save the world haha who said that. Rating: inevitable heartbreak/10

Martha Jones: I'd trust her to do so at the start if she had to bc of her medical training and being slightly older/with her shit together. My confidence has only increased with time. Rating: most competent so far, could probably handle it long term if she had to right at the start

Donna Noble: Has successfully, canonically, on screen raised a spectacular daughter who is also a companion. A large portion of her time on screen in The Star Beast is dedicated to how good of a mother she is. Rating: companion I would trust the most with a baby for any amount of time

River Song: Another one that depends in part on place in the timeline and I'm not even gonna get into the thing where the Library makes her a parent or something at the end of that episode bc that feels forced af to me. But I feel like she'd lack confidence in her ability to care for a kid of any age, but take to it surprisingly well if she really had to do it. Rating: earlier in her timeline just no. Later in her timeline she could probably manage long term

Amy Pond and Rory Williams (they're a couple so doing them together): at the beginning they're also quite young (not even counting Amelia era Amy). They could do it but I think Rory would be picking up a lot of the slack for the same reasons I think early Martha could do it. Dubiously canonly they DID raise a kid (though it's unclear if it was from infancy), and in general there's so many timeskips they're a lot older and more mature by their departure and I think they'd be fine. Rating: carried by Rory to squeak out mid-long term success early on, but in a better position long term later in their lives

Clara Oswald: Clara has experience with children, yes, but ones that are SCHOOL age. Clara is not equipped to handle an infant. You can't be clever at an infant. Unless you speak baby. Maybe she forces the Doctor to teach her to speak baby. I doubt it would help. Rating: I wouldn't leave a baby with Clara Oswald for more than an afternoon and even that much is a gamble

Nardole: Has been seen looking after babies before. Seems reasonably competent at it. Up there honestly. Rating: long term right from the start. Or at least from his second episode he's just kinda doofy in THORS and there's a significant time skip after that

Bill Potts: While not as young as someone like Rose, her position in life is still one that makes caring for a baby for a significant duration difficult. Could she do it? Yeah probably if she really had to. But I want her to live her life. Rating: living situation complicates anything more than short term early on, probably capable of long term with resources even then

Ryan Sinclair: Chibnall companions are kinda nothing to me. Sorry. Please don't come at me for not being a Chibnall enjoyer. But it can be hard to get a read on them to me. Ryan is pretty young though so I'm gonna say best not. Maybe if he was written by someone capable of developing a character. Rating: short term would probably be okay

Graham O'Brien: Also Chibnall. In a better position age wise. Loses points for all the ableism with Ryan so maybe if the kid isn't disabled I guess. Rating: another short term candidate I suppose

Yaz Khan: Also Chibnall. Also young. Still probably not. I'm sorry canon Yaz is kinda nothing to me I know a lot of people really like her. Rating: competent enough for short term probably

Dan Lewis: Maybe the Chibnall companion I'd trust with a baby the most? I mean he's not barely an adult, and his main crime is outing someone which isn't really relevant to a baby. I think it's a bit outside his wheelhouse but he'd manage it okay. Though if he never unshrunk his house that might make it a bit more difficult for anything longer term. Rating: congratulations you get short term with longer term conditional on the assumption you have somewhere to go with said baby

Rose Noble: She's 15. But on the other hand she could ask her mom for help so if that's an option she's fine actually. Rating: probably a great short term babysitter, has the resources to get excellent assistance if she were to end up with a baby in the long term

Ruby Sunday: Another Quite Young companion and her introduction literally does feature a baby in her care getting kidnapped. She does get that baby back though and it's shown that she helps her mom with childcare a lot so big babysitter energy. Rating: short-mid term on her own, longer term with assistance

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bri-does-art · 9 months ago

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i know this probably won’t do much, let alone anything at all, but i’m sorry for the stress this site has caused you and so many other creators here. i’m not asking for you to stick around on here, but i hope you know just how meaningful you and your art have been on here. you’re amazing. /pos

Hey, this ask has done a lot more than you would think. Thank you, you are very sweet. <3

I've kind of made up my mind about what I'm gonna do for a while now, but I've simply been... too busy and overwhelmed to take the time to let you guys know. I'm not going to delete my tumblr, there's just. Too much here that I don't want to lose.

So far the game plan is: keep my tumblr. But do not upload anymore art or writing on it - not because it's gonna get scraped, because it was already getting scraped anyway, AI company deal or not. It's pretty much unavoidable at this point, unfortunately. I simply do not trust Tumblr with my data, if they're going to sell EVERYTHING, including private messages and such, so I'm not going to give it anything worthwhile to profit off of. Instead, I'm going to start uploading my art exclusively on Ao3, for now. I'll answer any asks I receive here on there too, as well. I'll figure some kind of system out. 🤔

The cool thing about uploading to Ao3 is that anyone subscribed to my profile or to the containment series I will make will get a notification anytime I upload something new. Having my art and writing in one place is likely going to be more convenient for you guys too, since you won't have to move across platforms to get the full experience. 😄It'll be different... but a platform getting too greedy for its own good won't stop me from finding ways to share my stories with y'all. I'll just find another solution.

(I've also been entertaining the idea of joining or making my own Discord server but. That one is a little more delicate. The idea of joining a server that has hundreds of members like a lot of this fandom's servers have, just. Makes me break into hives, lmao. (I am in the Ghost in the Machine fic server. I muted it an hour into joining, it was way too intense for me. |'D) That is way too many people, I simply cannot handle it. I'd be way more comfortable in a smaller group with a less rapid-fire rate of posting and conversation. I am also. Very picky about which servers I join, which makes asking for recommendations doubly awkward when I shoot them all down, haha... And making my own... Err, I can hardly keep up with a server I helped create for another fandom and mod for, I don't think I could handle two of them - I would need other people to handle the moderation for me, and I wouldn't trust just anyone to be a mod. I'd need to know them well enough to know I could trust them, and I... do not really know anyone in this fandom well enough to do that, sadly. I take server moderation very seriously, as someone who has had experience modding for forums back before social media was a thing. I do not know if that would make for a fun experience for everyone, and anyone who hasn't known that kind of supervised experience. It is comforting to me. It may be intimidating for others. So that's still a very hand-wavy, 'eehhhh' kind of thing still.)

All of this to say, that this isn't the last you'll see from me, far from it. I'll restrict my creative output to Ao3 for the foreseeable future, and I'll let you guys on here know when I make a new upload, so those of you who do not have an Ao3 account know when something new has happened.

So there you have it. 😊

#also just so y'all know #i AM working on the next CotA chapter #i am. about 40% done.#i needed to take a breather after that massive last upload and then life just. fucking tackled me lmao.#in order: my folks put up the house for sale. i have spent half of my weekends having to evacuate the house at a moment's notice.#so prospective buyers could visit. not very good conditions to write in. too stressful.#then i caught fucking covid for the very first time and had a BAD TIME. it took me weeks to recover. couldn't climb stairs for a while.#i think i still have episodes of brain fog 5 months later because of it. my body was really weird for a while after.#(writing is still a little hard after that. but i think i am slowly overcoming it. hopefully it doesn't show too much in the new chapter.)#random unexplained symptoms and more i will not share. then the holiday season came and went.#then we finally got serious buyers after months of having no-shows yank our chains and expulse us from our home for nothing.#the house is sold. then came the cleaning out and packing. we are nearly done and i am finally coming up to the surface to breathe a little #we are moving in a month's time so i might be a while before i feel stable enough to start posting a little more regularly once more.#so this year i may have to give mermay a pass. to my ENORMOUS chagrin. it's just not in the cards for me this year. ;___;)#but we are getting there. we're seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. and i am confident enough to say it's not a train.

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echoversit · 10 months ago

Text

Vers' Health Journal Day 1

I am gonna see if I can train myself into any kind of media consistency by logging my efforts at getting Super Fit and Comfortable with my body every day!

Goals I'm trying to meet:

Workout 2x a day as much as I can; weightlifting in the morning and a short abs/full body circuit workout and cardio in the evening

Intuitive Eating (I'll include pictures of whatever meals I remember to photograph each day)

Try to stop eating after 7pm or so, and begin eating the next day around 6:30am. This will help me get my circadian rhythm back on track.

Build enough muscle to carry my own bodyweight

Getting visibly toned is the last on my priority list; It would be nice but I'm trying not to focus on it too much

Day 1: We're starting off strong because I am at home for Easter break, so I currently don't have access to a gym. However, this is my first day of intuitive eating! I had a leftover greek goddess salad from panera and some homemade bread for my first meal, and then a few hours later I got hungry again and had some prunes and half a bagel (and then went back and got the other half)

Rating Floor Workout Tiktoks/Reels/Pins

Since I'm home, I've decided to take this time and find a new floor workout before I head back to college from all the ones social media keeps recommending me, so I'm going to write up how it went for me and notes I had here.

The first one is a workout targeting obliques by j.workouts on tiktok. It's about 15 minutes altogether, including side crunches, knee to elbows, russian twists, plank knee in twist, plank rotations, plank knee ins, bicycles, and heel touches. Keep in mind I'm probably intermediate in core strength.

Coordination: I found a few of these hard to figure out and make sure I was using the muscles I was supposed to, mostly the bicycle variation and knee-elbow crunches.

Difficulty: Once I figured out once the movements were, I did feel that I was working out my obliques pretty well, but I didn't feel a huge burn at any point in the workout. That said, it did get me sweating, so kudos for that!

Favorite exercise: I liked the plank rotations best- I could definitely feel the muscles being worked, and keeping myself stabilized was a good challenge, and my shoulders also felt the burn while I was moving.

Least favorite exercise: This is a me thing, but I just hate russian twists. They're so effective! And I do not like them.

Rating: 3.5/5. I think if I was a beginner the coordination still would've posed a challenge, but if you can get all of the exercises down all of the exercises work the muscle effectively! I also think the order they put the exercises in was decent for a beginner; start off moderate, work your way up, then cool off with the heel touches at the end of each set.

Alright if you read this far down, I appreciate it haha!

I'm gonna go on a walk now

#Vers' Health Journal #Rating Floor Workouts #workout #health & fitness #fitness journey #healthy living

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fadebolt · 1 year ago

Note

yo, i just got to watching west, awesome seeing you as gourmand’s voice! very good job you did :)

also, love your room reviews. it’s so nice hearing about both shared and personal experiences, especially in a game so large. it’s a shame i’m always late to the voting…

Hey, thanks a lot! :D

I'm honestly really taken aback by just how many people liked the voice. Maybe I should have expected it, since people did have a ton of praise for the Spearmaster, Rivulet and Artificer VAs too, but I like to be cautious about my optimism, and I did want to have an open mindset towards potential criticism (so much so that I straight up asked North not to moderate non-positive comments, just in case... which seems to have not been necessary, just as she predicted xd)

But also keep in mind that outside of the times when I did 'haha funny French Scav' voices, I wouldn't really get many people talking about my performances. I imagine this largely came down to the fact that SC already had a ton of established VAs for important characters within Pansear's comics, which often left me mostly with side characters that don't have much screentime (plus live dubs are harder than prerecorded stuff, plus I was often cutting out cus of Discord being Discord, and me having an inconsistent internet connection).

So this is the first time where I'm seeing people say they're headcanoning me as a character (...even if it's a bit ironic for it to be Gour, due to me being kinda skinny and anti-social), which is why I'm so pumped by this. And what's even more fun is that when I showed it to my IRL friends, they legit didn't realize that Gourmand was using my voice, until I told them, and if that ain't a success, then I don't know what is.

Anyways, slightly narcissistic voiceover related rambling aside, I'm really happy that you're liking the room stuff.

Whenever you're putting out something onto the internet, it can get rather difficult to tell whether people give a shit, unless there's a big number on the screen (definitely one of its more annoying traits when compared to the real world, for sure). So I really appreciate this bit of positive reinforcement, and seeing the poll account mentioning me definitely got me squealing (I know they didn't mention me by name, but come on, it was obvious)

Speaking of polls, there's a region one coming up pretty soon, and you can expect some comparisons and ratings on them soon. The new poll's host is also quite anxious about whether or not they're gonna be getting enough traction, so I wholeheartedly encourage you and everyone else to participate in the region tournament, especially since that one is gonna have waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay less polls than the room tournament.

And don't worry about missing some polls. I did too. The timer on them is only 24 hours, and they've been going on for a while, so it's basically inevitable, lol. But discussions about RW experiences is indeed a ton of fun, I have to agree.

#ask #fade answers

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zeawesomebirdie · 3 years ago

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Heeyy I'm back! I 100% agree with you in the past few days I've spent so much time with a new widow and like 20 wookieepedia articles open just going on search-tangents, it's so fun! Like the SW universe just... Never stops? You can just want to look up someone's dob and 2 hours later you're realising Tatooiine is in the Arkanis sector and Arkanis is right next to it and so is Geonosis apparently?? Still haven't come back from that one. But yeah I totally get the enthusiasm. And the HC about dates is actually good, especially for my poor brain who's having a hard time with all the stuff that's not explained haha

Mainly I just wanted to say I watched the prequels in a night and the next afternoon and it was very fun! (because for once I hadn't heard every nitpick and criticism possible on the movies :') apart from like, Hayden Christensen's acting) But I wanted to let you know, I had Obikin in mind all throughout the movies and... Yeah. Yeeaah. Yep yep yep. Love it. I started the second Aftermath book but partway I got distracted and went looking for fics :')) So far I've read a few and it's super fun because it differs from my other ships on a few things and I like the change for once :') If there are any fics you think are super good or you want to talk about, feel free to recommend them! (Also real question: do people use Ani-Wan? Cause I think that's a good name too but I just pulled it out of my ass soo...)

- ☂️

Hey there Anon ☂️! I know im the one who got you onto this wookiepedia deep dive but did you say Tatooine was in the Arkanis sector???? Thats crazy???? Especially if you're coming at the GFFA from an interest in the sequels but then learning about the prequels and-

Okay so before I get too excited, I'm so glad you're enjoying these little tangents! This is why its taken me the last nine months to even attempt to zero draft any SW canon-compliant fic, I keep getting sidetracked by a million little details and then I stop writing to research 😅 but really, the same sector and everything??!! Im gonna have to look into this omg this changes so so much about the kylux dynamic if they know this

And welcome to the prequel fanclub! I have to admit the prequels are my favorite trilogy, though that may be because im very queer and I project onto Obi-Wan a lot lmao! RotS is genuinely my favorite movie of all time and has been since I first saw it at like 10 years old, and I'm always so excited when people get to experience it without the notion that they suck! Like sure its bad 2000's acting but also its beautiful and the way everything just goes together and ahh I love these movies so much, there's a reason im mainly a prequels blog!

Oh and yeah you're right about watching them with obikin in mind! Prior to watching them this year I hadn't seen them in a good 6 or 7 years so everything i was getting for the ship was from fandom, and then when I managed to move back to my parents I finally watched the movies again and it was so amazing to see them with this new lense! And omg they're just so cute together? As the Stover novelization says, "They're a team. They're the team. And both of them are sure they always will be." And you know what that quote smacks me across the face because its so fucking true, they love each other so completely but the story just has to go on and ahhhhh

So now i have to admit im bad and haven't read a whole lot of fic for any ship in a long while 😅 reading is just hard for me, im unmedicated adhd so I tend to not read if I can get away with it but if you want my recs, I will always handsdown recommend the Matthew Stover RotS novelization, while not a fic its pure obikin for like 300 pages and its considered a canon novel which. Canon obikin? Yes please! I also like these fics:

you were the crash (i was the car) by zombiekatherine (rated M, please mind the tags)

and i think of all those little things (that you and i can do) by monamoure (rated M, please mind the tags)

Both of these are absolutely amazing! Short, but again im super adhd and not medicated whatsoever so sitting and reading anything over 10k isn't happening unless its my own fic (and even then it doesn't always happen lmao)

Now onto your last point: the only ship names I've seen for obikin are obikin (obv lol) and aniobi? There's also ships with both of them plus a third such as quiobiani (Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan/Anakin) and obianidala (Obi-Wan/Anakin/Padmé), and im sure there's others but im blanking on what they're called atm but honestly im sure people will get what you mean regardless of what tag you use! I say this as someone who very rarely tags posts lmao, sorry I cant be more helpful!

And side note, if you want some more deep diving and random info that isn't considered canon but is actually in Legends, I highly recommend the book Darth Plagueis by James Luceno. Its obv about Plagueis yes, but it talks pretty extensively about midichlorians and the research Plagueis was doing on Aborah in an attempt to prolong his life (and of course then you can say you have in fact heard the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the wise). I fully intend on reading more Legends books, in fact I have Master & Apprentice by Claudia Grey sitting next to me rn but I havent taken the time to read it yet (if you're unfamiliar, its the #1 "canon" quiobi novel!)

Okay now that I've rambled at length, I hope you're having a great day!! Enjoy this newfound knowledge!!

#anon ☂️#sorry for rambling at you star wars is my special interest lmao #i know way too much info about the gffa #thanks for ask too!!

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yoosungimagines · 7 years ago

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Omg I'm so glad you made this tumblr! Uuuuh. I've got a request: imagine Yoosung finding out that the MC is a few years older than him (either before they have even met and he's developing feelings or when they're already a couple)? Hope it's not too much I'm asking for ;-;

took way too long to finish I’m sorry!! This is fairly long cause well, oops? i’m dramatic haha

also i made it so they’ve met but they’re not a couple i’m sorry if that’s not what you want aaaaa

this is actual trash i’m sorry

Rating: PG13

“Say, Seven, I’m not what they call a…”

Your voice was sheepish as you spoke into the phone, your eyes resolutely trained onto the ceiling and away from Seven’s picture displayed on your phone. There was an expression of defeat mixed with pure embarrassment on your face and your grimace would’ve made for a fun blackmail picture for the redhead.

“A what?”, he drawls teasingly, and you can practically feel the mischievous smirk on his stupid face. “Spit it out ______. I won’t know what you’re trying to say until you say it clearly.”

You wanted to slap him, but alas, his cheek was too far from the palm of your hand. “A-A,” you take a deep breath. Your next words come out in a high-pitched squeak, your fingers clenching around the fabric of your shirt. “A c-cougar!” Your eyes squeeze tightly and your hands fly up to cover your reddened face, a loud stuttering groan of embarrassment leaving your lips.

Seven’s hysterical laughter fills the room, making your ears bleed; you knew putting him on speakerphone was a bad idea! “Oh my god!”, he spits through his giggles. “I can’t believe- haha! A-A cougar- HAHAHA!” You groan again and the urge to hide yourself under the sheets have never been stronger.

“Shut up Seven!”, you cry, his laughs growing in volume at the sound of your suffering. After what feels like forever, his laughter slowly starts to subside, but you can still hear his small giggles between his panting breaths.

“Wh-Why do you ask? What makes you think you’re a c-cou-”, he snorts and you can hear a loud BANG. “C-Cougar-HAHA!” You roll your eyes in exasperation and you consider hanging up on the redhead. He obviously isn’t much help now. Laughing at you isn’t going to do anything for your crippling sanity.

“If you’d just stop laughing, I’d actually tell you.”

“O-Okay, okay, lemme just,” he pants, chuckling under his breath. “Calm myself down… Hooooo~ I can’t breathe.”

“I wish you’d stop breathing.”, you mutter bitterly and he snorts again.

“So cruel ______! I thought we were friends!”, his dramatic yell does nothing but annoy you even further and you tell him so, resulting in another heartbreaking shout.

“Seriously Seven, am I one or not?” His pondering hum makes you nervous and you pull the fabric of your bedsheets taut between your fingers. “You’re gonna have to explain to me why you think you’re a cougar first ______,” he says. Your mouth twists, displeased. “Because personally, I haven’t seen you do anything ‘cougar-like’ in the chatroom.”

You muster up the loudest, most tired sounding sigh you could make and you hear him chortle in amusement. “My friends joke around a lot. About me being a cougar and all,” you explain reluctantly, letting the silk in your grasp fall from your fingers. You instead pick at the stitches in your shirt, a worried lilt in your voice as you speak. “You know how I’m one of the oldest members in the RFA? I told my friends that and well, yeah…” The way your voice trails off is suspicious to say the least, as if you were hiding something from Seven.

“That still doesn’t explain why they think you’re a cougar. You do know what that word means, don’t you? It means to be sexually interested in younger men,” he rattles off, so casually that you wonder if anything can embarrass Seven. Then, his voice turns into something mischievous. “So? Who’s the lucky guy?”

Your flustered sputtering confirms his accusation. Mortified, you turn your body and bury your face into a pillow, your shrill screaming muffled. “______?”, you hear. “______, c’mon it’s not bad to be interested in someone younger than you. And knowing you, you’re probably not interested in just sex, right?” You squeal at the lewd word, pulling another chuckle from him.

Eventually, you turn your head away from the pillow, inhaling to calm your nerves. “Yoosung…”, you breathe out.

“What about Yoosung?”

“Th-The guy I’m interested in… It’s Yoosung.”

“…”

Your teeth snags onto your bottom lip when a lengthy silence comes from the other end. “S-Seven? You there?”, you ask, voice shaky. “I know it’s weird bu-”

“HOLY SHIT!”, you wince from the scream Seven emits. “HAHAHAHAHA YOU LIKE YOOSUNG?! DAMN ______! I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE INTO COLLEGE BOYS! HAHAHAHAHA!”

“I hate you, I hate you so much,” you hiss into the phone. “Laugh one more time and I’m keying your cars!”

He chokes on his laughs, struggling to plead with you through hacking coughs. “W-Wait ______! Let’s be reasonable here!” Seven’s frantic tone in his hoarse voice brings a smug smile on your face. “My babies don’t deserve this! Take me instead! Please!”

You haven’t your rolled your eyes this hard since… Well, ever. “Will you just-! Help me?!”, you huff, the desperation clear even through the annoyance in your voice. “I… I really like him and I don’t want him to be creeped out when he finds out that I’m like 6 years older than him.” You cringe at the thought, heart aching at the image of Yoosung’s face twisting in disgust.

“You mean you haven’t even told him your age?”, Seven asks softly. He sighs, clearly disappointed in you. “______… Yoosung won’t be creeped out.”

“How do you know that?”

“Have you not figured out what type of stuff this boy’s into? Trust me, you’re fine ______. Just tell him. It won’t change his feelings for you at all.”

“His feelings? For me?”

His chuckle feels more reassuring now, the slightest bit of confidence seeping into you from the deep sound.

“He likes you too ______. Probably way more than you think he does.”

“And then he shouts at me for not getting the item in time! Like, how was I supposed to get it when I was literally carrying his sorry butt?!”

Yoosung’s whiny rants were nothing but adorable to you. Admittedly, you were a little disappointed that the only reason he invited you over was to vent, but Yoosung is Yoosung and you’re weak.

You sink into the comfy couch, head lolling to the side to watch as he talks animatedly about his LOLOL raids, hands flailing about and lilac eyes alight with passion.

It’s been a week since your… Enlightening conversation with Seven and it’d be a lie to say it hasn’t been crossing your mind ever since. In fact, it’s concerning just how much you keep thinking about it. Every waking hour - in the shower, while you eat, while you work - it refuses to leave your head.

“He likes you too ______. Probably way more than you think he does.”

If what Seven had said was true, then…

You wet your lips nervously as Yoosung stops his babbling, your silence concerning him. “______? Are you okay?” His eyes peer deep into yours, worry shining in his hues. His pretty pink lips were pulled into a frown. You want to kiss it off of him.

‘He likes you too…’

‘Just tell him.’

‘It won’t change his feelings for you at all.’

“I’m 27!”, you blurt.

Oh.

Oh shit.

“Wait- Shit! Fuck! I didn’t mean to-!” With a loud, excruciatingly painful groan, you bury your flaming red face into your hands. You hadn’t meant to admit it so abruptly! Stupid Seven!

You can hear Yoosung shift next to you, his movements making you even more anxious. “Uhm,” he finally says. “Well, I’m 21…?” You can hear the question in his voice and you groan even more in embarrassment. Great, now you confused him…

“______? C’mon, tell me what’s wrong!” Yoosung’s hands reach out to grip at your wrists, his touch sending electric shocks up your spine. His thumb rubs soothing circles into your skin, each stroke shooting an arrow through your heart. “You know you can tell me anything right?”

You quiver under his stare, teeth latching onto and chewing your bottom lip to shreds. “My friends,” you manage to choke out, averting your gaze. His wide violet eyes were not good for your sanity. “My friends were teasing me… A-About how I’m a cougar.”

“A cougar?” He cocks his head in confusion. “What’s that?”

You want to D I E.

“Well you see Yoosung, when a woman loves a young man very very much…”

His eyebrows furrow. “So you’re telling me, you love someone and your friends are teasing you about it?”

“W-Well yeah, but the thing is he’s… He’s way younger than me and they just like to joke about that.” Yoosung looks strangely conflicted now, eyes downcast and mouth a thin line; it’s worrying. “Yoosung…?”

“Who is it?”, he asks, painfully hushed.

You could only stare at the blonde, confusion clear in your eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Who’s the guy?” He looks as if someone had stabbed him, betrayal and sadness embedded in his violet hues. “Who’s the guy you… you l-love?”, he practically spat out the word.

A sudden, dawning realization falls upon you and wow holy shit I’m an idiot. Yoosung was jealous. Kim Yoosung was JEALOUS.

You couldn’t help the smile that split across your face and you shake your head at the ridiculousness of it all. “Yoosung,” you laugh, reaching out to cup his face in your hands, pressing your foreheads together. “His name’s Kim Yoosung.”

You watch his expression transition from hopeless to shock to finally, glee. “M-Me?”, he sputters, his cheeks a beautiful red. “You love me?”

Your nod had him beaming up at you, your heart stuttering at the sight. He places his hands atop of yours, staring into your eyes with adoration. “I love you too.” he sighs, pretty lips curved into a dopey smile. He leans in to press a kiss to your nose and you nearly cried from how precious he was.

“Kiss me properly.” You grin when you see how flustered he’s become, puckering your lips to tease him even more. Warm lips capture your own in a tender kiss and you hum, pleased with his boldness.

He pulls away to kiss your cheek, then along your jaw and up to your ear, your little gasps fueling his actions. His warm breath against your skin send shivers down your spine, your ears a bright red.

“You know,” he sighs, his hands sliding down to take ahold of your hips, tugging you closer. “If you were a cougar, I wouldn’t mind if you pounced on me.”

#yoosung #kim yoosung #yoosung kim #mystic messenger #mystic messenger imagines

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let-them-eat-rakes · 5 years ago

Text

RED REALITY (part 2)

…

[Dr. Scranton's voice is noticeably distorted now. Hypothesized to a combination of both him and the control panel finally showing signs of reality breakdown.]

Robert… cold. I can't… I can't feel my legs anymore. I think… I'm beginning to… Hitting that point I… talked about… Low Hume Field… Diffusion… Equilibrium… bunch of… stupid… garbage…

I don't know what's real in here any more. Hell, I'm not sure I'm real. Or… something… something close to it… If… If I really am going out like this, I… I… I don't want to die yet. I don't want to die yet. Oh, god I don't wanna die yet…

I ran up in one straight diagonal line, for six months. I went down in one… no I just went down again… for… eight. There's still no bottom, red, there's still no bottom.

What have you been up to, Red? Have you been listening for me all this time? You're a stubborn little guy, Red…

Lucy.

Huh, Red? Sorry, I must have fell asleep. What did you want? Oh… sorry, I-I'll try to remember…

Lucy. That's what we wanted to call our kid if we had one. Lucy Scranton, Lucy Lang, Anna and I both thought it would have a nice ring. I-I- No, Red, I… I don't remember picking out a boy's name…

"Good morning… good morni-i-ing. We've talked… the whole… through…"

Man, I really suck at tap-dancing. Can't feel my feet at all. Okay, you try then, Red.

Kejel's Law states that Hume Fields diffuse, Kejel's Law states that my balls will eventually fall off if this keeps up.

"Anna… Anna bo banna…" Heh, she hated that song, and I loved to tease her with it. "Anna… Anna bo banna banana… banana, banana canna…" It actually became a joke between us, did you know? We made it the words that turn you on. [Pause.] Come on, red, act your age, don't be immature. [Sighs.] Fine, guess you have a sense of humor after all, maybe!

Heheheh, we're gonna have to fuck with so much science when we get out, this place breaks apart rules like my hand is breaking right now.

Spiderwebs. My left hands. Spiderwebs.

There was a reality-bending spider at Site-120 once. I should crush it. Red, would you crush it for me when we get out?

Average ten, fifteen kilometers a day, plus a few breaks. Thirty, two, thirty, ten, no, eleven, no, no ten, I think. At least, three hundred left, and… and… shit no, was faster going down… Fuck it, I'm saying about six hundred kilometers down. Took a hell of a lot longer coming up.

Far down. Bottomless? Infinite? And beyond. Shut up, Robert, you're not funny.

Hume Field, boom field… breaking down at a rate of… shit, what's the constant of Modified Prommel Relations? Ten to the fourth? No, no… fifth… fifth, I think…

One year. Maybe add a few more months.

Red, how does David sound? David. You know, you asked about… yeah, yeah, that. Sorry I woke you…

My… my hands. I… my hands are going through each other… Red. Red! RED! Red, help, help, please, my hands, I can't feel my hands, they're going through each other like… like… they're like ice water, Red, I can't, oh god, oh god…

Huh… huh… huh… Red… You know… you know that… that stupid magic trick your uncle would show you where he'd pull his thumb off, but it was really just his other one tucked under?

I just did that. With my real thumb. It didn't even hurt, it just came off. I think… Oh, god I'm gonna be sick. I-I- [Sounds of retching.] I think… I think it's just floating right now, and I can't even pick it up, my hand just passes through it, oh god, oh god, I-I-

My left pinky feels like… an onion.

Yeah, it's separated.

NICE TRY HELL, ring's on the RIGHT hand, nice try left.

I can… go… right through myself… I can… feel inside me.

It feels… warm.

But also cold.

When I sleep… my hands go in my head. I'm sleeping on my back now.

Static. I'm like static on a TV.

Chhhk. Chhhhk. Chhhk.

Ha. Hahahaha. Hahahahahahaha. Well, I-I-I only need one kidney, right? RIGHT? RED, RED LOOK AT THIS! Haha. Hahahahahaha…

Let me keep my heart, just my heart, that's all I want.

Lucy. David. Are you there? I want to see you.

Lucy. David. That's not fair. Come on, hey, quit messing around, I was joking when I said that, I was joking. COME ON, THAT'S FUCKED UP, I WAS JOKING.

I'm a man, be a man, Robert, you're a man, WHAT THE FUCK.

Anna… Annaaaa…

Four years, six months, eighteen days.

I'm not… I'm not even doing it myself anymore. I can… feel it happening on its own… Finally. Finally, I can… I still can't say it… I'm… I'm still scared…

I… definitely won't eat anymore now…

Still really hungry.

That is fucking disgusting, Robert, and you know it. NO. SEE, RED THINKS SO TOO. NO.

This little piggie went to market.

This little piggie went… somewhere.

This little… foot. Foot… RED?!

Five years, 13 days.

Haha.

Hahahahahahaha

Hahahahahahahahahaha.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Five years, 14 days.

Five years, 15 days.

Stop it, you're hurting me.

Five years, 19 days.

I'm feeling better now, red, sorry.

How do you do it, red? Keep it together? Spill it out, I need some help here… I need some help…

Red. Come on. Don't do that. Don't go. I know it's hard. I know it's dark. But-but- it's dark and we're together still. Come on. Red. No. No. You-you can't. RED! Come on, buddy, stay with me, Red! Come on! I can still touch you! I CAN STILL TOUCH YOU LOOK AT ME RED YOU ARE NOT DYING YET NO RED NO!

[No audio is recorded for the next 9 months.]

Five years, nine months, two days.

…

Red?

Five years, nine months, three days.

[Automated message repeats 97 more times.]

You little shit, I thought you left me… [Dr. Scranton's voice is barely audible/coherent, as if through a heavily distorted, muted radio.]

…

Sorry to say, red, but… there's not much left here… I… it's been hard. I've… 184. I've tried to kill myself 184 times. It didn't work. …None of them worked. I'm�� I don't even know how much there is of me anymore. At least one foot, because I can move. Probably a few leg muscles too, but I'm wobbly. Insides are… insides are shit. Still a heart, maybe a lung. This place… really won't let me stop… Tired…

I… did die, red. Come on red, don't look at me like, I don't want your pity and I don't want shock, or anger, or fear, or, or… I can't… When… 224, I miscounted…

One, two, three, four… [Dr. Scranton counts from one to 220-245 several times over for the next 13 hours.]

I died. I died, a lot. I tried to suffocate, I tried to snap my neck, I tried to bite myself apart. And… and… This place. It's not real. I left, I saw myself, on the ground and I couldn't— I couldn't— I couldn't go anywhere. I couldn't leave. There's no way to leave, I just floated back down, and each, damn, time, there was less and less of me. I-I- oh, god, how much more can I take away and still live?

So why are… why are you back now? What do you want to tell me?

Five years, nine months, twelve days.

Heh…

This place is getting smaller. Red, did you somehow do this? I… there's an end here for sure now. It's gone from… god knows how long to… There's like a veil further out and when I touched it hurt like hell. Red, what's going on?

It's… it's not dark. That border or whatever is getting brighter and, I mean, it's still fucking dark but… oh god, I can actually see something now. I…I… oh, god, what the fuck is this? I… oh, god, I didn't know I was this bad. Oh, god, oh god, oh god, there's so much gone—

Five years, ten months, ten days.

Red, you're solid. Like, no, you're really fucking solid. You're… you're real. And… and… I'm real too when… only when I touch you. But… Red, it… it really hurts when I do. I… I think that if I touch you I might fall apart…

You — really fucking hurt, Red, Jesus Christ, you hurt, what the fuck is going on?

About three kilometer in radius, and closing. Is this… is this something like Kejel's Fourth Law? But… but… what the hell is taking it? Hey! HEY! I'm in here still stop! You're causing a collapse! HEY! HEY!

Two kilometers. Oh god, what's gonna happen when it closes? DAMMIT, RED YOU HURT!

Not collapsing. Waves. They're… waves… What?

Robert, you are a goddamn genius. Not walls, windows. Open windows.

Five years, ten months, twenty-eight days.

Anna, Anna can you hear me? These waves… this place… Okay, imagine, two realities as two pieces of paper stuck together. This place is the space squished between. There should be only two realities, parallel, but this place is a tiny, but infinite third… third… in-between, like what would happen if you fell into a hole crossing a bridge from Point A to Point B! Remember Class-C Wormholes? Those theories about a wormhole that was full of goddamn holes. I think… I think this is where one of those holes leads. It doesn't lead to a different universe, it leads to nothing. A dead end. This place is a dead end. Class-C "Broken Entry".

These waves. Wherever they're coming from, they're from some parallel reality interacting with this place, displacing this in-between place every so slightly. And they're all… pushing on me and red, because since we still have some level of reality, they're pushing, or… or sucking us towards them, gradually creating a new wormhole towards… towards… home.

…

What's going to happen to me when I go back? When the window closes?

Think, dammit, Robert, think. You've got to think! Think harder! THINK HARDER!

Red, I'm gonna, ah, I'm gonna have to, Jesus- gah, I'm gonna have to move away from you, you, I don't know, you're sick or something, you're really messed up right now. Call me when you're feeling better.

…I can't… I can't think… right… Blood. Blood. There's… way… too much… ha…

Drip, drip, drip, where does it allllllll…. gooooooooooooo… [Retching noises.]

I haven't… [Retching noises.] tasted barf in forever. Not even when I threw up after my… my… you're a man, Robert.

Oh, god. Oh god not again, not again, not again— [Retching.]

…

[Voice breaks.] How…? How…? How can I be throwing up this much, red, tell me… I don't… [Retching.] I don't even have a stomach to hold it in anymore… And the bleeding never… stops… [Dr. Scranton breaks down into crying for the next two hours.]

Be- [Retching.] better… now. Thinking.. straight…

Red, I… I don't know if I'm ready to go back anywhere yet…

Five years, eleven months, three days.

No, red, I'm not being selfish, it wasn't you, it was these goddamn waves coming in. I can't be near them. Red, look, look at me. See this? Red, look at me. LOOK. I can't be near them, they'll kill me. I passed the three years quite a while back, remember?

Because, even… even after all this time… I don't want to die, red. I'm still scared. [Voice breaks.] Red, I am scared, okay? You wouldn't understand, you're not… you're not human, red.

Oh I'm sorry for offending you, red. No, red, come on, I didn't mean it like that. Red, look at me. You're my friend, do you get that? You are, my best friend. But… let's face it, you've got a much better chance of getting out of here a—…. Just leave me alone, please, red? Just for a bit… I'm sorry, okay? I really am…

Can you… hear the waves coming in, red? That little hum and shake as it hits your ears? I can. And it's getting louder every time, and it hurts so bad. [Begins to sob quietly.] It hurts so bad.(4)

No… No, no, no, no, no… NO. NO. NO. Why? Why?! Just let me go, let me go… LET ME GO DAMMIT, oh god… [Sobbing.]

[Sobbing groan.] Another five years. Five more years. If this keeps up, I'm getting re-stabilized for another FIVE FUCKING GODDAMN YEARS, RED WHAT DO I DO?!

[Over the next five days, the control panel does begin to pick up a low frequency hum that comes in pulses. The volume increases steadily, and as it does, Dr. Scranton can be heard screaming, crying, and speaking incoherently in the background.]

[Voice is noticeably shaky.] Red.

[At this point the background humming noise is picked up at a rate of 20 pulses/min.]

Five years, eleven months, nine days.

Help. [Loud splattering noise heard as something strikes what is assumed to be the control panel.]

[Complete silence for five days. Pulses increase in volume, as well as frequency to 30 per minute.]

[Loud splattering noise.]

Red. [Dr. Scranton's voice is extremely slurred, almost incomprehensible.]

Red.

Red, give me your leg, I need support.

Red, give me your lever, arm. HAND!

Red, I need to see better, give me your light, no sorry, no, no light needed, got it, sorry, something else.

Anna.

I want pretty eyes. Anna, Anna, give me your eye, I only have one.

Anna, Anna, give me your lips, I want to kiss you again.

#scp #scp 3001 #red reality #scp fandom #scp foundation #part 2 #posted from a pile of leaves #let them eat rakes

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bowditch · 8 years ago

Note

Hi, I love your writing! I don't know if your flash fiction prompts are still open, so if they're not, ignore this! But, if they are open: Damian and Martha Kent? Pretty please?

This was an ask clarified to be in the Cor Et Cerebrum universe and it was SO MUCH FUN to write. I’m sorrynotsorry it got so long for something that’s just talking, haha. Rating: GRelationships: Gen/Friends

Gear Shift (AO3 Link)

Damian Wayne is sitting in the front of an old Ford F-150 on a rough wool blanket thrown over the tattered upholstery of the bench seat. He’s got both hands on the steering wheel, but the engine is off and the window down as he listens to the argument behind him.

Martha Kent is on the side porch right in view of the dirt road up into the west field and Jonathan Kent is standing in the bed of the truck, next to the two massive and grayish-white, plastic tanks of organic fertilizer. The old man has a red bandanna tucked under his ballcap, draped down over the back of his neck.

“Don’t you let him drive that truck, Jonathan Kent,” Martha snaps from the porch, shielding her eyes against the sun.

“He’s thirteen!” Jonathan protests, slapping his hand against a tank. “Clark started driving for haying when he was twelve!”

“You know why that’s different,” Martha says sternly.

“The Llewellyns start their kids at twelve, too,” Jonathan says stubbornly.

Damian holds his palm against the worn gearshift, uncertain what he should do. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard them really argue before.

“Caleb Reinhardt had Eric driving when he was nine. Nine, Martha! Now I’ll grant you he was tall and I’ve never met such a level-headed kid all my life.”

“That was nigh on twenty years ago,” Martha snaps. “Things have changed.”

“He’s thirteen,” Jonathan says. “I’m not taking him joy-ridin’! And he already knows how to drive. You do, don’t you?”

He looks at Damian and Damian nods. He feels like he’s betraying Martha Kent, who throws her hands in the air and says, “Alright, then, Jon, but if you get him killed you’re gonna make the phone call, not me.”

Jonathan clambers down from the truck bed and strides over to the porch, where he and Martha stand with their heads bent close together; her side is to him, though, a little defensively according to Damian’s own understanding of body language.

And if he was a normal kid, maybe he wouldn’t be able to hear what they were saying. Or maybe he’d just be polite enough to tune it out and amuse himself for a minute with studying the gauges in the truck. But he’s got sharp ears and a sharper sense of… maybe it’s not curiosity, maybe it’s self-preservation. Whatever the reason, he can hear what they’re saying across the quiet morning yard and he listens. He watches in the large side view mirror.

“Do you trust me, Marty?” Jonathan asks, and Martha waves a hand dismissively. And then she nods.

“You know I do,” she replies. “I’m not saying I agree with you.”

“Is it my decision?” he asks seriously, his tone firm, his ballcap and bandanna wadded in his hand. “Am I gonna be in the doghouse over this?”

“No,” she replies, resigned. “Go on, then. You know how I feel, I’ve made it clear. But I’m done meddlin’.”

Jonathan kisses the top of her head and pulls his cap and bandanna back on, and heads back to the truck. He hauls himself up into the bed and taps the rear window in the cab.

Damian twists and slides it open.

“You close up that other window, now, and take it slow up that slope.”

The engine rumbles as it turns over and Damian glances in the mirror one more time, as he cranks the window shut. Martha is still standing on the porch and he can’t figure out her posture– she’s got one hand on her hip while she watches Jonathan, but she looks neither angry nor accepting.

For all the arguing, Damian does know how to drive and he can drive well, thanks to a fleet of manual transmission cars and a lot of not-always-authorized practice. Jonathan shouts instructions through the open rear window and they make slow laps around fields while the farmer sprays the young crops before the sun climbs too high.

They’re back to the farmhouse by lunch and Damian parks the truck in the gravel by the nearest barn while Jonathan opens the empty tanks to air out. Damian braces himself for whatever reception they get inside, uncertain how much of Martha’s lingering displeasure will fall solely on Jonathan’s head and how much will trickle down onto his own. She’s never been really angry with him before, even if he’s seen her annoyed in small ways or scolding, but it always seems to come from a calm center. And he’s never heard her really argue with Jonathan before.

Jonathan himself is whistling like he hasn’t a care in the world as they walk toward the farmhouse and Damian nods at the old farmer’s thanks. He really did enjoy helping and it’s only now back at the house that he’s worried; out in the fields, it was the furthest thing from his mind.

They both kick their boots off on the porch and the screen door creaks as they go inside. Martha is in the kitchen slicing pieces of cold ham. There’s already a plate with a tomato sandwich on thick homemade bread for Damian.

“How’d it go?” she asks, sounding cheerful, and Damian takes the plate with a confused frown. He carries it to the dining room where he’s sure they’ll follow, while Jonathan chats with her. They speak in low voices, too low for him to hear with the air conditioner running in the dining room. Then Martha laughs and Jonathan pokes his head into the room just as Damian sets his plate down, “Come on and eat on the porch with us. Martha made some sweet tea if you want a glass.”

They eat on the front porch under the shade from the roof and when Jonathan stands and announces he’s running into town for some things, Damian declines his invitation to come along.

“Suit yourself,” the old man says amiably. “Just boring bank and feed store business anywho. Shouldn’t be long.”

He leaves and Damian is acutely aware that Martha is sitting on the porch swing, not bustling around to gather the plates and empty glasses, because he is still sitting and she’s waiting him out.

“Jason’s classes end at four today,” Damian observes as a distraction.

“They do,” Martha agrees. “He’ll be back for supper.”

“Would it be alright if I climbed into the barn loft to do some sketching?” Damian asks, still looking at the steps he’s sitting on instead of her. His legs look too long to him after that last growth spurt. He’s still not used to how far down the steps they go when he stretches out and they feel like not part of his own body.

“Only if you stay off that loose hay,” Martha says. “I was proud of you today when Jon and I were talking. You didn’t jump into the middle of things to defend yourself. Last year, you might have.”

Damian looks back at her sharply. She and Jonathan acted like nothing was wrong the entire meal and now he’s genuinely bewildered.

“Why are you pretending not to be mad at him?” Damian demands.

Martha’s eyes open wide in an expression of surprise and then her face relaxes. She stands and begins gathering the plates.

“Come help me thin the carrots before it’s too hot,” she says. Damian follows her into the house with tall glasses in his hands and he sets them in the sink.

Minutes later, they’re outside again, this time in the smaller family garden near the house. Martha has a wide sunhat tied beneath her chin and Damian kneels next to her to pull the feathery carrot tops she points to. They dump the pullings into an scratched yellow bucket for the chickens.

“I’m not mad at Jonathan,” Martha says after they work for a bit. “We didn’t agree, that’s for certain, but we agreed it was his decision.”

“You weren’t happy when we left,” Damian says, watching a worm wriggle in the spot where he’d pulled a skinny, short carrot.

“Nope,” Martha shakes her head. “But most folks take some time to get over things they don’t like. Doesn’t mean they can’t.”

Damian considers this.

“If I were at home and I fought with Father,” he says, knowing that it’s not exactly the same relationship, “we might stay angry for hours or days. Until one of us relented.”

“Once, Clark went a whole week without talking to me,” Martha says. “Lord, but that boy can hold a grudge when it suits him. I’m glad it’s a rare thing.”

“Father and,” Damian pauses, wondering if he’s giving too much away but also genuinely puzzled and trying to make sense of things. Sometimes the way the Kents behave is just so foreign, like another language that he’s never been taught. Or perhaps just a separate dialect, where he misses phrases and idioms while following the general direction.

“I’m no snitch,” Martha teases him, ribbing him with an elbow. “But you keep your secrets if you need to.”

“Father and Selina sometimes quarrel,” Damian says, guessing this to be a similar relationship of a sort. Closer than son and father, that’s for certain. “It might take them weeks or months to resume their relationship. They don’t always argue loudly. Sometimes, I am not aware there was a disagreement until I notice her prolonged absence.”

“Hm,” Martha says thoughtfully. When she doesn’t start in on a lecture in reaction to this, he continues.

“I do not think he has spoken to Mother for over a year. But perhaps that should not count. I am uncertain they have had any conversation not resulting in conflict for the entirety of my life.”

“You know your grandparents fought,” Martha says casually, dropping a handful of carrots into the bucket. They fall soft and soundless on the stems of the others.

“What?” Damian says, frozen. “You knew them?”

“Of course not,” Martha laughs, not loud or hard, but gentle and quick. “But honey, everybody fights.”

Damian forces his hands to keep moving, to seize vegetable matter and pluck it out of the earth. He has never heard his Wayne grandparents spoken of with anything but solemn or confiding tones, something like hushed reverence. Even Father, for all his interior motivations and the ways he makes them known, doesn’t really talk about his parents in the days before they were murdered. And he must have memories– he was nearly the same age when they died as Damian was when he left the League for Gotham, and Damian most assuredly remembers his life before.

“If they were married, they fought,” Martha says. “Now, I’m not saying they screamed or threw things. Some people fight so silent and still you never can figure out how they even know they’re mad about the same thing. I knew a couple like that once, up on a farm on the other side of town. They left to join their kids in Arizona years ago, but that’s beside the point. I was over piecing a quilt with her once and every time he came in the house, she’d get all tight-lipped and he’d just scowl. But they made up all the same. Worst fight they’d ever had, she told me later, and about wallpaper of all things.”

“That sounds like Father and Pennyworth,” Damian says with a grin at the plants in front of him. “They fought like that over a red chair once.”

“Now that is a battle of wills if I’ve ever heard tell,” Martha observes with a chuckle. “Anyways, my point was, everybody fights. Fathers and sons, sisters and sisters, husbands and wives. And some of them it just tears apart. Some hurt people can go a whole lifetime and never reconcile. But if you don’t wanna go leaving a trail of broken relationships behind you, you figure out how to fight and get over it, real fast.

“So, to answer your question, no. I’m not mad at Jonny. I was. And I’m sure he was miffed at me for challenging him. He doesn’t like it much when I do, but I do it all the same, and we both survive. But we both got over it and because we don’t like to be miserable, we both got over it pretty darn quick.”

“Tt,” Damian says softly, thinking. “I would not have helped by defending my driving experience then.”

“Nope,” Martha says, standing and brushing her skirt off. “You know what the Bible says about that? ‘He who meddles in a quarrel not his own is like one who takes a passing dog by the ears.’ You might be fine, might get your fingers bit. I used to quote that one at Clark pretty often, he had a habit of getting himself involved in things. Guess I didn’t convince him otherwise very well, now did I?”

Damian grins again, this time at her.

“I don’t think he learned,” Damian comments.

“Well,” Martha says, picking up the bucket. It’s not very heavy but Damian takes it anyway and she lets him. They pick their way out of the garden and toward the chicken coop. “Well, I didn’t mean for this to turn into a lesson. Goodness, I hated when my Ma did that to me– take an honest question and turn it into a moral, but here I am, doing it to you same as I did to Clark and Conner.”

“It’s alright,” Damian says. “I am interested in finding alternative methods to conflict resolution. It is a significant portion of my life.”

“Yes,” Martha says, looking over at him. He’s nearly as tall as her now. “I suppose it is. Not exactly of the mending fences variety though.”

“There may be that as well,” Damian says. “Perhaps you have observed Father’s past habit of incorporating orphaned youth into our family. I had acquired several siblings even before my arrival.”

“Incorporating,” Martha says while Damian tosses the carrot bits into the chicken yard, “is perhaps not the word I would use. But you do have an awful lot of people to get along with, I’ll grant you that.”

“They are suitable,” Damian says, watching the chicken peck at carrot tops and squawk at each other. “Thank you for answering my question.”

“You know,” Martha says slowly, in that way she speaks when she’s second-guessing herself. He’s only heard it often enough to know what it is. “Me and Jonathan have had a lot of practice and we made a commitment to each other a long, long time ago. I don’t want to give you the impression that I think everything your daddy does is the wrong way to do things.”

“He is a very capable man,” Damian says, “but it is a foolish person who only seeks one teacher. It is wise to search out the master of each art.”

Damian is not trying to be profound, just honest. He is not prepared for the way that Martha Kent’s eyes suddenly fill with tears, the way she turns her head to snap at the chickens to hide it.

“Look at you,” she says gently, glancing at him a moment later. “You stop that growin’ up and take a year or two off, else I’m gonna have to pester your daddy or Clark into finding some new little ones. We still need a baby around here.”

Damian doesn’t move. He’s worried now that he insulted or wounded her, until she leans over and gives him a quick hug. He doesn’t pull away or do much to return the hug, but he accepts it and the relief within his ribcage is immense.

“Come on inside and keep me company while I make cake. I’m in a mood,” Martha says, walking back toward the farmhouse. “I’ll let you lick the beaters if you still need good reason to come indoors.”

“I suppose it would be unkind to boast about this to Jason,” Damian says, setting the bucket down and tagging along after her. “But I do enjoy his exaggerated outrage.”

“To be honest, honey, I think he does, too,” Martha confides in a low whisper as they go into the kitchen. “But maybe we’ll just save one in the fridge for him just in case.”

Damian nods and washes his hands, looking out the window at the field as he does.

“Thank you for trusting Jonathan,” he says. “I like to drive.”

“Oh boy,” Martha says. “I know that tone. Your daddy doesn’t let you at home, does he?”

Damian smirks at her over his shoulder. “We don’t have a farm,” he says, shrugging a shoulder. “But it’s okay. I’m not a snitch.”

“Lordy. Jonathan’s gonna be, though,” Martha says. “But that’s alright. He brought it on himself. Go get your sketch pad. I’m not gonna have you pilfering bits of brown sugar while I work, so you should keep yourself busy.”

Damian quick-steps away from the towel she swats at his legs and returns a moment later with his sketchbook. While she whisks eggs for the cake, he sits at the small kitchen table in the room thick with the smell of vanilla and sketches the soft green stems of carrots from memory. It is quiet while he works and while she works, but it is a good quiet and he feels no need to fill it with words– the scritch scritch of charcoal pencil and the thwick thwick thwick of beaters are enough.

#batman #batfam #damian wayne #martha kent #cor et cerebrum series #ficblogging #ask #flash fiction pshaw

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