#at this (that) particular moment in time

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 3: Enveloping Feelings.

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4 (soon))

[edwinisms]

george rexstrew deserves awards for many things but i have to say. edwin’s bloodcurdling scream as niko gets killed deserves a whole award unto itself. like. that scream did not feel at all like a tv show scream. to a somewhat jarring degree. and i can’t express how much I respect that

[somewhereincairparavel]

Jason not telling anyone about his birthday is just... So sad on so many levels.. and literally nobody in the fandom talks about it (so I will duh)..only Piper had to figure it out and ask him about it, even then, he was embarassed to admit it.. proves how much nobody ever made him feel special about his true self or ever told him that he was worth being born :( He feels ashamed about making his birthday about himself even though that's the whole point of birthdays, because he feels that he isn't important enough :(

he just shrugs off his birthday, a day that is supposed to be about you, because "they have bigger problems". He has been told his whole life, to shrug off his own personal issues to put everyone else above him in the Roman legion, that not even birthdays make much sense for him.

Jason never ended up telling anyone about his birthday in the end either. Only Piper and Thalia knew. And his only known birthday was the day Annabeth and Percy fell into tartarus.

[aroaceleovaldez]

underappreciated Nico detail that I like - he seems to be an angry crier! very frequently he's angry when he cries and he cries when he's extremely angry. very AuDHD of him. emotional regulation sucks my guy and he's just going through it.

[sollucets]

WORD OF HONOR || EPISODE EIGHTEEN

[midnightsslut]

the more I listen to this album, the more impressed I get by the concept of writing an entire record about an intense romance when everyone was expecting a devastating narrative of the breakup that preceded it, except in reality, you pepper enough hints to paint a thorough, unforgiving picture of the mental state that made you believe that rebound was worth it in the first place. she tells us she would spend forever pining for him if they didn’t try to be together, that they would kill themselves if the other person ever left, but she refutes those claims herself a few songs later. she makes it clear that she’s too broken to be trusted, and then she gets mad at you for not trusting her. underneath it all, the story of what broke her in the first place simmers, and you’re ultimately left with sixteen songs about the rashest decisions she’s ever made. figuring out what got her there is up to you. it’s all in the text. she hates being analyzed, but she wants you to analyze her. she talks about being manipulated like a doll, and she does the same to you.

[demaparbat-hp]

The Painted Lady turned around slowly, deliberately, and stared right through each ghost present in the room. Then, she raised her hands in a graceful arc, pointed loosely at the ceiling, and chanted, “Well, off you go.” She made a shoo, go away gesture, the spirits disappeared, and—wait. The spirits disappeared.

Izumi comes back in For the Spirits Chapter VI: Dream of You. Zuko has a mild panic attack and her upbeat attitude does not help him (or does it?).

Just what is she up to? And what is the meaning behind the blue eyes from Zuko's dream?

[sysig]

Two skeletons in a trench lab coat (Patreon)

Bonus:

He’s very careful! Everything was fine before you interrupted!

[houseswife]

house: this has absolutely nothing to do with wilson

also house: [brings up wilson unprompted] [spends 95% of the session either talking about wilson or deliberately avoiding talking about wilson] [literally admits it’s about wilson]

[unfinishedslurs]

The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Wardrobe Woes

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[dilfmobius]

Lokius moments that altered my brain chemistry [1/?] ↳ pussycat

[justallihere]

some fluff for your saturday 🫶🏻

***

Xaden’s favorite time was the middle of the night, when his wife slept peacefully and he got to hold his daughter and watch the snow falling.

Fia, like her mother, liked the library. Xaden was sure it was the floating mage lights that kept her attention—at seven months old, she certainly couldn’t read—but it was the place that calmed her the quickest when she wouldn’t sleep. He liked to think it was something she’d gotten from Violet.

Fia looked like him: his warm brown skin, his dark hair and dark eyes, his mouth. But she had Violet in the shape of her nose, the fullness of her cheeks. She was calm and quiet like Violet, attentive and curious, even just beginning to sit up and grab for anything within reach. She liked Xaden’s wedding ring, liked the texture of Violet’s dragon scale corset. She liked looking at the dragons: she would sit and stare at Andarna for hours if Xaden let her, endlessly fascinated by her shifting scales as Andarna stretched her wings in the sun.

She was an easy baby for the most part, but Violet’s pregnancy had been hard.

They’d assumed it would be, but she’d been in pain almost constantly—aching joints and swollen feet and hands. By the second half, she spent more time in bed than out of it, barely sleeping due to the pain. Thanks to Brennan and the best midwife in Tyrrendor, the birth had been smooth, though long; Violet labored for over a day before Fia joined them. Then she’d spent more weeks recovering, Fia sleeping on her chest as Violet read to her.

It was why Xaden always got up in the night when Fia woke. Violet would have done it gladly, he knew that, but she’d given so much to bring Fia into the world while he’d only been able to watch. Rocking her back to sleep once or twice a week was the least he could do. Violet protested, and he ignored her. Sometimes she’d come find them, but more often than not she slept on comfortably and didn’t wake until Xaden joined her in bed again.

“What do you think?” Xaden murmured to Fia, stopping in front of a window and turning her around so she could look outside. She pressed a chubby little hand to the glass and cooed. “How long are we gonna be awake tonight?”

Fia babbled unintelligibly. Once the window had lost her attention, he shifted her in his arms so her head could rest against his shoulder, and she lay limply against his chest. He rubbed a broad hand up and down her back, marveling, not for the first time, at how tiny she was. How easily she fit into his arms. He never wanted to let her go.

Violet protested that it was bad for Fia to be held constantly. She needed to move and look and engage with the world around her. Xaden argued that she’d have years to do those things, and he only had a few months to hold her like this. That usually made Violet soften, and she got that tender expression on her face that he never tired of because it reminded him that she loved him just as much as he loved her.

He walked half a dozen laps around the library, humming under his breath. Fia settled slowly as he rocked her, bouncing her lightly in the way she liked and stroking along her spine. He felt her little form go entirely limp, finally asleep; her head tipped to press against his neck, her breath against his skin, the beat of her heart against his own. He could go put her back to bed, but he didn’t stop walking.

Just a little longer, he decided. Just a few more minutes holding her.

“I think she’s drooling on you,” a voice whispered, breaking through the still serenity of the library.

Xaden turned and found Violet leaning against a shelf, watching him with a soft look on her face.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Xaden murmured.

She smiled sleepily. She was in a nightgown and thin robe, barefoot with her hair loose and tangled, like she’d woken and hadn’t wanted to be alone. “Come here,” she said quietly.

Xaden went. He held Fia with one arm, and reached out with the other to take Violet’s hand. She fit her fingers into the spaces between his and stepped in close, resting her head against his chest next to their daughter. She stretched on her toes to brush a fleeting kiss against Fia’s soft cheek, and then titled her face up to Xaden expectantly.

He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and finally pressed his mouth to hers. “I love you,” he murmured.

Violet’s eyes fell shut, contentment written in every line of her expression. “I love you, too.”

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: referenced mind control / parasites / intrusive thoughts (only in the tags) / ]

(This is just a fun “what if” so bear with me-) I know we make mention of the potential for Krang remnants to be stuck with Raph and/or Donnie, but Mikey and Leo also had a moment with the other two where a type of Krang goop was crawling beneath their skin (this being immediately after Raph broke free.)

So I raise you the potential for all four of them to have a bit of that Krang parasite on them…and for that to have unforeseen consequences.

[alluralater]

wanna suck on her tongue until she's squirming and writhing like a whore in my lap but i just keep her wrists pinned behind her back. moaning into her eager mouth, sucking even slower. my lips wet around her and her chin getting all drooly with how lovely it feels to be so good and take it for me. i love seeing how much she can take before she gets stupid with that senseless fucking need. when she starts to whine and force her tongue deeper, i'll bring my own to the underside of hers and lick side to side, back and forth. swirling and sucking until she's grinding her hips forward, begging me to fuck her. taking her wrists in one hand and sliding the other between her thighs. she knows what it means. move for me. we aren't stopping, i'm still working that warm tongue in and out of my lips, but i'll give you this. make yourself cum on my fingers, sweetheart. aren’t you dying for it? cum. cum now. hurry up before i change my mind <3

[echthr0s]

"A while back, my grandma overheard me use the term C.O.D, and I explained that it wasn’t Cash On Delivery, but Call of Duty, and what first-person shooters are, and etc etc. Then a few months later, I came to visit her, and saw she had a PS4 set up in the living room with Call of Duty: Infinite Warfare paused on the screen. She made me a cup of tea and then went on a long rant about some kid spawn camping.

Quickly – what was your reaction to that? Adorable? Funny? Kick-ass? Now I want you to compare that to how you feel about a 35-year-old playing C.O.D. My position is that the gap between your feelings about the two images is roughly the depth to which you have a degree of condescension towards old people. And I think a degree of condescension towards old people is almost universal in Western culture. (This piece is 100% incited by me realising I have it myself.)

When old people use memes, or listen to gangsta rap, or do anything outside of their stereotype, there’s an air of “aw, it thinks it’s people!” to our reactions. We would largely not find this acceptable if it were any other demographic (women, black people) acting in non-stereotypical ways.

The entire cult obsession with Betty White is that she swears and is sexual. But… why shouldn’t she swear? Why is that weird? Why is that funny? People were swearing when she was growing up. They were having sex. Old people are just you, but for longer. (It's hard not to sound trite, sorry.)

(This matters by the way, sorry to be a downer, because old people are often abused, and sometimes it’s because people have condescending attitudes to them and don’t listen to what they say and make decisions on their behalf without asking them. You will recognise this attitude from sexism and other such isms. I was going to say "Don't treat old people like children" but we also shouldn't be treating children this way, so.)

Anyway my advice (to you and to myself) is try to catch yourself when your reactions to old people are different to what they would be for a younger person doing the same thing. Also if you’re feeling angry and defensive right now, spend some time with that feeling. If you really don't think what I'm saying applies to you then hey awesome. But i reckon you're in the minority.

(The story about my grandma is not true by the way. A true thing about her is that she is astoundingly knowledgeable about music because she worked in the music industry for decades. Another true thing is that pensioners contribute more to the economy in volunteering and unpaid childcare than they take away in the pension, but the kind of contributions they make are devalued oh hey does that also remind you of any famous isms?)"

-- McKinley Valentine, The Whippet #14