#looking for a heartbeat

[justreadingfics]

Sensitive Topic - A "Looking For a Heartbeat" One-Shot

Words: 4k+

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Six years have passed since Bucky and you got back together. You are married and you’re pregnant with your second child. Everything’s great. Until a very sensitive topic from your past comes back to haunt you.

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Jealousy, Angst, Fluff, Mention of Past Relationships, Part of a Series, Pregnancy kink, Pregnancy sex.

Based on this request: Smutty idea:

Sometime after they got back together, Reader goes through a brief period where she feels insecure about Bucky and Anna's past relationship and intimacy, so Bucky shows her all the ways in which he only ever touched and made love to Reader, not Anna.

A/N: Thank you Anon for the request/idea (sorry for taking so long), and thank you @flordeamatista for being such an amazing beta.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

It's been six years.

Six. Fucking. Years.

You keep telling that to yourself, sitting on the couch of your shared apartment, running your hand with a wedding ring over your swelling belly.

You are married and pregnant with your second child with him.

And he loves you.

You.

So why the hell is your mind drifting back to that particular topic… that very sensitive topic, making your nerves burn with that twisted little feeling in your gut?

Jealousy…

Maybe you can blame it on the mess of hormones you’ve been going through. You don’t remember being quite like that when you were pregnant with Summer, your first child. The mood swings weren't constant then.

This second pregnancy, though, has been all about feelings swirling inside you unbidden. One second you could be laughing and dancing with Summer at one of her cartoons, the next you would be bawling your eyes out at the same fucking cartoon.

All of your feelings are mixed up. This one right here being the newest addition to the pack.

And it sucks. It so fucking sucks.

10 minutes before…

A light humming escapes your lips as you set the lemonade jar and glass on the trail. A smile plasters  your face as you grab the set and head towards the new room.

The new baby’s nursery.

Your second daughter. 

Well, he doesn't know it's a daughter. With Summer, your first, he chose to discover the sex, while you preferred to wait. Now he chose otherwise while you knew the sex. 

You can't wait to see his face when he sees a baby girl. He’s such an amazing dad to Summer and already is for this one, whose name you still must figure out. You have yet to talk about the options, but between your work with the Avengers and his own as a stay at home dad (as he so proudly likes to call himself), time is short. Just now, he’s taking the little time Summer is at School to work on the new nursery.

Jesus, that firecracker of a girl is already a handful.With two of them, what are you and Bucky going to do? The thought makes you smile fondly.

Your memory flashes back to six years ago, when you were preparing lemonade for Bucky and Steve, who were working on Summer's bedroom.But that time you weren’t married still. 

God…you had no idea what you two were at that time, practically living together, pining for each other like crazy, but none of you daring to step further, too scared to do so.

The memory makes you smile harder. You almost kissed him while he felt Summer kicking, placing his hands on your belly for the first time… only to be cockblocked by Steve…

Now, looking at the life you two have built together, that time seems like it happened ages ago. Another life. You know now that everything happened as it should be and you’re exactly where you are supposed to be. 

With him and your little family.

And well, no Steve this time, you chuckle to yourself pushing the door to the nursery with your elbow.

The view before you makes you suck in the chuckle down your throat.

Bucky.

Your husband.

Shirtless.

Sweaty back to you as he’s up on a ladder, finishing to stick the teddy bear’s wallpaper. Pants hang low on his slim waist. Back muscles flex with the movement of his arms.

His fucking hair half loose half pulled back in a high bun. Like a damn warrior… an extremely hot one.  

Goddammit.That man knows how to make your throat dry and you breath hitch without even trying. A sweet little coil twists your belly and lower. The tray feels heavy in your hands while your thoughts turn into images of you running your tongue up the muscles of his back to his neck, wrapping your arms around his broad frame and feeling his warmth against yours.

That’s when it hits.

And everything shifts.

Did she ever do that to him?

Did she ever touch him like that?

Did he like it when she touched him?

The mere thought is unbearable, agonizing.Cold lodges in your chest, freezing out all the growing heat you just felt. 

You don’t wait to see if he knew you were there before you leave the tray on the working table and head to the living room with heavy feet to sulk on the couch where you are now.

Fuck. 

You’re sure the trip down to memory lane ended up driving your thoughts to her.

Anna.

You haven’t thought of her in ages. The woman Bucky was in a relationship for the first months of your pregnancy with Summer. As much as it hurts to admit and remember, he wasn’t there with you then.

He was with her.

But in all honesty, you know you have no reason to be thinking of her now or to be feeling like you are. You and Bucky have been through so much to get where you are now and you love each other. 

He loves you and only you, there’s no doubt of that.

Reason, however, is not what’s guiding your feelings now and bile rushes up your throat at the intrusive images of them touching each other. Of him touching her in a way he touches you now.

She got to see him, hold him, touch him. He touched her. You can't get rid of the thoughts.

He had sex with her.

The two of you have talked about his relationship with Anna, but you never actually got to that specific topic. He hasn't spoken out loud, and you haven't pushed it with him.

But you knew, of course, you knew. 

After all, he was trying hard to make things work with her. And she’s a woman, a beautiful one, and he, well… he’s simply the type of man no woman would kick out of their beds, especially if they’re in love with him like she was.  

Your jaw clenches, but you don’t need to turn your head towards the entrance to know he’s there. Don’t need to look at him to know there’s worry etched on his face as he takes you in, sitting there blatantly ignoring him.

“Hey,” he’s smart enough to keep himself halted as he calls you with his soft voice, “Are you ok?”

“Yes.”

“Sweetheart…” He tries and you huff, turning even more away from him.

That’s when he can’t help himself and rushes inside the living room. Kneeling on the carpet right in front of you, he places his hands gently on your knees.

“What’s going on? Did I do something?” He pleads softly.

There’s a hitch on his tone that makes you finally look at him. His beautiful blue eyes are ​​focusedon your face, searching in almost desperation for any sign of what might be happening to you.

The anger you were feeling melts just like that.

“No, my love, no…” You sigh in almost defeat and your hand cups his face instinctively, caressing the light stub shadowing his jaw. You shake your head and then turn away from him, not bearing to look at him when you add, “It´s stupid… You’ll think I’m so stupid.”

“Well… Try me.”

When you glance back at him your eyes catch his bare chest and it’s her hand you picture running over his skin. Your jaw clenches at the offending picture in your mind and that fire, not the good one, starts burning again.

“Was it good?” You shoot.

“What was good?”

“With Anna.” You shift, making his hands drop from your knees.

“What?” He frowns and tilts his head at you.

“Sex with Anna… Was it good?” You keep the sharpness in your voice and cross your arms in front of your chest, staring right at him.

The frown deepens on his forehead and his lips part, as if looking for something to say and finding nothing. Sheer confusion twists his face.  

“Fuck…” You sigh, covering your face with your hands for just a moment before looking back at him, holding back the tears threatening to spill. “Forget it, it’s stupid.” You repeat, shaking your head.

As he stares back at you, the confusion on his features starts settling into something else.  Something you take as.. empathy?

“It’s not stupid if it’s making you feel bad.” He states matter-of-factly. 

“It's just the hormones.” You try to brush it off with a laugh but it just sounds forced, even to your ears. You look away.

But, apparently, Bucky’s having none of it.  There’s no trace of mock or amusement on him as he swiftly gets up to sit beside you, his front completely turned to you. Ever so gently, he takes your hands in his and places a kiss on the back of them. The sweet gesture makes your heart jump and you slowly shift to face him as well.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.” He asks, running his thumb over your hands, which he rests on his lap, linked to his.

His words come so naturally to him. Because that’s how it’s been now. You two talk. And it’s been the key to your happiness all these years. So you do just that. You talk to him.

“It’s just…” You look briefly to the floor before gathering the braveness to look back at him. “We never really talked about how far your relationship with Anna went. I know that you two cared for each other and I know. I swear I know that it’s in the past and you love me.” You make sure to make that very clear to him, before shrugging, “But I– Fuck– Something made me think of it, just now, and I kept thinking about you two…”

You take a deep breath. His soft eyes on you the whole time, his willingness to listen prompting you to speak, “You two in bed together… I kept wondering what it really meant for you. How did it happen? How did you feel?.Was it good? I mean–she’s beautiful and–Shit,” You curse under your breath, interrupting your blabbering for a second with a shake of your head, “I know it doesn’t make sense. I’m so-”

“Hey. hey,” He cuts you in, softly squeezing your hands before you could blurt out an apology. “Have I ever told you how I felt when you brought Harry over for that first time? Steve’s birthday, remember?”

You cock your head at him. Almost amused by the absurdity of you and Harry - the man you met at a supporting group - being anything more than friends. Even before you found out he and Natasha had hooked up (and then married), you had never seen Harry like that. You had a suspicion Bucky had been a little jealous back then, but you never really talked about that either.

“Harry? Are you serious?” You ask. A little smile on your lips.

“Dead serious,” he admits, nodding, “I wanted to kill the bastard. I felt like shit. And, honestly, it took me a long while to get over the feeling, even when I found out the guy was head over heels for Nat.” He blows out a puff of air, “Trust me, I understand.”

You let out a breathy smile. He smiles too.

But it's brief.  

“I did have sex with Anna when I was with her.” He estates, his face serious again.

Your jaw clenches, the small amusement from seconds earlier vanishing into the air. You know that. It’s the whole reason for that conversation. But that doesn’t make it easy to hear it from him.

“You ask me if it was good?” He continues when you don’t say anything, “When I had sex with Anna, it was always an attempt at something. Trying, trying… It was always something like… an effort.”

You gulp at the admission, and he shrugs, not once avoiding your gaze, “It never felt…” He sighs, searching for the word. “Natural. It never felt natural. So, no. I don’t think good really applies to what it was. Not really. It may make me a jerk to say it, but that’s the truth.”

You have no idea what to say to him. All of a sudden, you wish you hadn’t started that conversation at all. You feel like he’s just revealed something you should be satisfied with, happy even.

But you don’t really know how it makes you feel.

If you would guess, you would say you feel sorry for himand her, even. How hard it must’ve been. To be in a relationship meant and designed in every aspect to make one of them forget someone else.   

“And that’s because it wasn’t you.”  

As he whispered his words, your breath caught. He reaches his hand, running the back of his fingers over your cheek. You lean against his touch. You have no idea why, but right now you feel so glad you’re here with him, like this. That horrible time in the past. 

“It could be her or anyone else. It would never mean or feel like it is with you. And it would definitely never be as good. Not even close.”

He holds your stare and you do it back. So many feelings, so much has gone between you two. Good and bad. All so you could live your love as you can today. He’s looking at you as if he’s feeling all that, too.

And he’s as glad as you are.

“I fucking love you.” His jaw clenches, as if the words come out of him filled with some kind of deep force.

“I love you.” You take in a shuddering breath, letting the mighty power those words carry rush over you.

He shifts on his seat and something in his gaze changes. Just like that, the atmosphere turns into something else.

Oh.

Oh.

The hormones inside of you are quick to notice the change as something you can only describe as a burning flame twists in your lower belly. You bite your lip, looking down at his. So soft. So lust and delicious.

So yours.  

Before you could even think to lean in, he swiftly grabs you and puts you across his lap.

“It’s like my body was made for you.” His voice is low as his hold on your waist tightens. “You drive me fucking crazy… the way you smell…so good.”

He tips his head to run his nose over the dip between your neck and shoulder. Taking in and relishing in your scent.

Your eyes flutter.  Your core cries for attention as you feel him already hardening against your ass.

“That thing you do with your fingers on my neck.” He grabs your hand to place it on the spot he just mentioned. You promptly do that little move you know he’s crazy about.

“Yeah, fuck,” he whispers and places a kiss on your neck, making a shiver run down your spine.

“Bucky…” you plead.

“The way you ride me.” He ignores your plea and keeps running his lips on your neck between words. 

Desirous words that make your mind spin. “You sound so beautiful when my cock is inside you. Your fucking breasts...”

He shows you his meaning by grabbing a handful of one of your breasts through your dress. It prompts a whimper out of you and your fingers dip into his locks, undoing his bun in the process.   

“God you’re fucking sexy, I have to hold myself back sometimes when there’s people around…But there’s no one here… Right, sweetheart?” His voice turns infinitely lower as his metal hand snakes under your dress.

That morning you had decided for a simple short tank top dress with a loose fitting to prepare yourself for the heat you’ve been feeling all the time.  You had no idea how much it would come in handy.

Fuck. 

You want him so damn much. So damn much it’s burning you. But the bastard, the bastard, keeps his touch under the skirt almost chaste, just massaging the skin and flesh of your thighs.

Not being able to hold yourself any longer, you turn his face to yours  and grab his lips in a kiss. The movement is harsh, almost violent. Pouring all your need and desire for him in there.

Responding to the kiss with the same ferocity, bucky fiercely moves your hips with his metal hand and grounds you against the hardness beneath you.

“Do you see what you do to me? Huh?” His voice is hoarse against your lips. His hand moves with you, but he doesn't really have to make any effort as your body moves on its own accord, grinding itself against his.

Longing for a breath, his lips part from your as he leans his forehead against your, “Is it like that for you too? Tell me you want me as much as I want you. All the fucking time.” He grits out.

Words evade you as your hips keep moving against him, chasing a release for the burning sparkles inside your core. So, as a way to show him, you grab his flesh hand under your dress and move higher, moving it under your underwear.

You’re soaked.

He lets out a harsh groan and you bet it’s pure primal instinct when his fingers start to move against your most sensitive spots. 

Moaning at the sensation, you bring your arms around his neck, and work on kissing every little piece of him you can reach. His ears, cheeks, temple, lips, neck, his touch is so right. Just where he knows drives you crazy.

God, you love how much he knows you.

You roll your hips in a frenetic rhythm, practically riding his hand and feeling how impossibly harder he’s getting beneath you.

As if he’s feeling the exact same thing, he lets out a guttural groan, “I love you. I want you so much.” His voice rasps as he leans back to look at you. “You’re gonna come for me.” He states rather than ask, and fuck if don’t almost melt at the mix of dominance and desperation of his tone.

You grind harder against his hand, ragged breaths slipping out of your parted lips while you stare right back at him.

“I need to feel you, I need to see you, fuck– I need you.” He pulls down the straps of your dress, leaving your dress bunched up in the middle and baring your breasts for him. He lets out a satisfied hum before dipping his head to suck at one of them.

You let out a loud moan and you arch against his lips with the intensity of your climax, that comes without warning.  This only prompts Bucky to suck your breasts harder, going from one to the other with ravenous appetite while you come undone around his fingers

In a reflex, you quickly pull his hand away, the sensations too much, and drop your body limp against him.

You stay like that, sucking in some much needed breaths inside your lungs as he lazily kisses your bare shoulders, wrapping his arms around you.

It’s only instinct, primal and hungry instinct, when you start moving your body, grinding against his hardness, even if the angle of you sitting across his body just doesn’t allow you much. 

“Hmm…” His hands travel around over you, “Do you want my cock, babe?” He offers in a sultry whisper.

“You did say something about riding.” You manage to let out between your still panting breathing.

He chuckles and bites his lower lip as, in a swift move, you adjust yourself on his lap, facing forward, while your back is to his chest.  

Both of you don’t want to waste any time, so, as you lift a little to pull your underwear to the side, he makes quick work of pushing down his pants. What a sight it is to watch from behind you his thick and hard cock bobbing against his stomach.

He catches your hungry stare and makes a show of giving it a few bumps, “Come and get it. It’s all yours.”

You don’t need to be told twice before you align your entrance to his tip and, with his help, make your descent to sit on him again.

Your eyes shutter and your lips part at the familiar stretch, “Goddammit you feel good.” You breathe, already bringing your hand to circle your clit as you feel him bottom up.

Bucky huffs through his teeth, “Right back at you, honey.” He circles his metal arm around you, grabbing a handful of your breast, as you start moving.

“Fuck… Yeah, baby, that’s it.” He praises, kneading the soft flesh in his hand as you pick up your rhythm.

You're a mess at this point, your dress is a mess, your body is a mess, but you don't care, all you can feel is his cock inside you and your hand on your clit.

All you can listen to is his loud moans mingling with your ragged pants as you ride him hard and fast, your ass bumping against him while he runs his tongue over your back.

You cry out and your pace falters at the electric sensation of your pleasure. “Bucky,” you let out a vicious sound when your second climax reaches you like a wave, making your legs tremble. Your pussy clenches around him.

“Oh, God,” he reacts at the gripping sensation, and you deliberately do it again, just because he sounds so beautiful, “Oh God, oh Baby… Yeah, fuck, just like that.” Between the blabbering words, he takes control of your hips, moving you wantonly around his cock. 

It doesn’t take long before he’s spilling his release inside you, groaning harshly and dragging sloppy open mouth kisses over your shoulder.

You lazily roll your hips around him to drag out the pleasure for both of you before you cease the movement and rest your back fully against his chest. He keeps himself inside you while wrapping his arms around your middle. Sighing, he draws slow circles over your belly.  

You’re the first to gather the force to speak, “Fuck, that was…”

“I know, fuck… I know.” He agrees, a tad breathless, “You’re the only one who ever made me feel this way,” he adds, still moving his hands around you and kissing your neck from behind you, like he just can’t get enough. A warm sensation settles inside you.

“You’re the only one I ever wanted.” He nuzzles your neck, “Always. No one can compare.” He sounds so honest, a deep and desperate kind of honesty that makes your heart swell with love for him.

You tilt your head so you can look at him. He halts from ravishing your neck to look back at you.

“I know, baby,” You assure, staring deeply into him. You need him to be sure of that, “I love you. You’re the only one I ever wanted, too. Always.”

You lean in and kiss him. Not that desperate and needy kiss from before, but one of love, devotion, peace and assurance. Everything you want you two to have in your relationship.

And you do.

He sighs through the kiss, as if he felt everything you put in there.

That’s when the caressing on your body, your legs, your belly intensifies.

You break the kiss and lift an eyebrow at him when you feel his cock hardening inside you again.

The sheepish look on his face is almost comical. “You look so beautiful when you’re pregnant. And I had to keep my hands to myself last time.” He pouts, before his lips twist into a naughty smile, “Literally”.

A breathy laugh slips out of your lips and, despite yourself, a tight kind of want starts pooling in your lower belly.  

He seems to sense that, as something dangerous laces his chuckle, “That firecracker of our daughter will be at school for a little longer, we’ve gotta make it count, beautiful.”

You don’t even have the chance to yelp before he easily handles you and you find yourself out of the sofa and on your all fours over the carpet. 

And once again he shows you how much he wants you.

Only you.

[hinamie]

yuuji smiling and sukuna making a face like That did u really think i wouldn't do a panel redraw

[serpentface]

The pylidaigh, a type of vampiric snow ghost, as imagined in folklore in and around the Highlands.

This is a ghost believed to come into being when a person dies in the snow and their body is not found before their soul (still trapped without its funeral rites) 'freezes' inside of it. The body then reanimates into a pylidaigh's twisted form. It looks like someone who slowly died of starvation, just a thin layer of flesh over bones. Its skin is as white as the snow itself, so pale it can blend seamlessly into a blizzard. Most of its body appears subtly stretched and lanky, save for its exceptionally unsubtle long, skinny arms, which drag on the ground behind it when it walks. After a big meal of blood, its belly swells like the abdomen of a tick.

A pylidaigh can only tread across snow and ice, and so doorways and windows are best kept clear of snowfall during the winter in order to prevent it from reaching inside. It mostly comes out to hunt during blizzards when there is little that can prevent it from catching its victims.

In spite of its fragile appearance, a pylidaigh is supernaturally strong, and can run at great speeds when it wants to. No mortal weapons can pierce its body, nor can any bonds known to craftsmen hold it in place. It is usually said that chains forged like iron but made out of ice can bind a pylidaigh and render it immobile, but this smithing technique remains tragically elusive to the average joe.

This ghost is either cast as a wildly dangerous but tragic figure, or one that is more simply malicious. In either case, it is described as experiencing nothing but bitter cold. It shivers endlessly. It retains distant memories of what it was to be alive, and it is motivated by a futile desperation to experience the feeling of warmth again.

In more sympathetic framings, it is described as using its freaky gibbon arms to capture its victims and pull them into an embrace, rather innocently trying to warm itself against their body. This inevitably fails, and the embrace becomes a bone crushing squeeze. When that too fails to warm the ghost, it rips out the person's throat and drinks their blood until the victim is as cold and drained as the pylidaigh itself.

In other cases, this more pitiable narrative of a ghost seeking warmth with no comprehension of its actions is discarded in favor of making it purely monstrous. Here it is a type of vampire with an insatiable thirst, practically a physical manifestation of the worst of winter itself. Some tales acknowledge both variants, suggesting a pylidaigh's violent attempts to warm itself may be initially devoid of malice, but turns into an act of furious jealousy of the warmth of the living after years of suffering.

The only (more or less) surefire method to permanently kill a roaming pylidaigh involves trapping it with fire. They are attracted to any source of heat, and will attempt to warm themselves with the flames (if not tempted away by a juicy living human body). The fire itself cannot kill them (as the sheer cold of their body is more powerful even than flame) but they can be trapped if kept near the fire long enough for the snow it depends upon to melt. This does not kill the pylidaigh either. The monster will remain in stuck in place (and potentially become a threat again if it snows more) for the duration of the winter. Only when the spring comes and all the snow melts does it revert into a normal human carcass (though mysteriously invulnerable to decay), at which point it can be cremated.

Pylidaigh in the wilds also revert to a human corpse during the snowless seasons, but will roam again each following winter unless it is burnt in the interim. It is of critical importance that any human corpse found in high mountain pasture is cremated- not only out of respect for the poor soul trapped as an earthbound ghost, but to prevent the threat of the possible dormant pylidaigh emerging next winter.

[zephyrine-gale]

getting delusions of an ingame dan feng

[feelo-fick]

"it must be the caffiene."

"...? we didn't have anything caffinated?"

//

CHILAIOS WEEK DAY 2 : Changeling

HI THIS IS SUPER LATE BUT ART HAS BEEN. HARD. AND YES I SKIPPED ONE DAY THAT ONE IS GONNA GO LAST BECAUSE ITS TAKING SO LONG TO MAKE.... ill get to the others when i find the time.

Bonus :

[raepliica]

one of these nights

[somegrumpynerd]

Do you think Killer's soul emits anything? Like, if somebody put their head on his chest and his soul was right by their face, would they feel like heat coming off it? Vibrations? Does it make a sound?

[phoenixwithapencil]

I think ff15 would have gone very differently had anyone managed to frame the prophecy not as a divine inevitability but a demand made by the imminent threat to the world and to Noctis that is Bahamut.

Bahamut gets framed as- not benevolent per se, but *good* by the narrative. You’re told that this is the god who created the crystal, the prophecy, the ring. This is the god who has been in your corner from the jump. Don’t question it too hard. Go quietly into that goodnight.

The chessmaster has never once had the best interests of their pawns at heart.

Hold Bahamut up to scrutiny and he is the reason that Noct must die. Who orchestrated the growing darkness? Who demanded sacrifice to stop that same darkness in its tracks?

It is, I maintain, not necessary sacrifice. There exists a world in which the ring of the lucii demands a blood toll- a life for a life- and it goes unpaid. There exists a world that the crystal demands a blood toll- the king for the world- and it too goes unpaid. Still, the sun rises.

So then if Noct’s death is unnecessary, that means Bahamut is demanding the frivolous death of the man Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto swore to defend. That makes Bahamut a threat, just the same as daemons or Nifilheim or Ardyn or Ifrit.

And I think, come hell or high water, that the bros wouldn’t fold to that sort of threat. They’d stand and fight.

[lost-st4rs]

The “In A Heartbeat” short film has been stuck in my mind and so I had to make it bendystraw to feed my hungry brain

[yarrystyleeza]

whenever I'm writing and I drop "The Devil smirked/smiled/grinned" this is what I want to project:

I can't stress enough how much this man has an effect on me.

[ellenchain]

Thoughts on other Viktor skins? High Noon? Deathsworn? I don't play LOL but... holy shit why does he always look so hot

ohhh sameeee

i don't play league either, it's not my genre, but i agree with you, the Viktor skins are really ... hot

baby just looks good in everything death sworn is probably my absolute favourite, even if his legendary skin is of course very very pwetty and his prototype skin very very cunty

but death sworn... mhhhh .... i would love to stick my hand in him

mhhmmmm

[redactedgoose]

Clark is aware that spying on others is more Batman's thing.

However... it's his little niece and nephew, okay? Just because they live in Illinois now (and aren't his blood relatives) doesn't mean anything. The Walker family's always been close with the Kents, even if only Grandma Walker still even lives in Smallville. So, just like he always keeps an ear out for Ma and Pa, he keeps an ear out for Alicia, Maddie, her husband Jack, and his cute niece and nephew's heartbeats.

It's easy enough and a pretty good indicator of their well-being, even beyond the obvious.

Clark really can't be held accountable for the chair that punched through the wall of the Watchtower's meeting room when he shot up out of it. He figures that he's being quite restrained, actually, since his nephew's heart literally just stopped beating.

In the time that it takes to pacify the rest of the assembled League members, though, Danny's heart starts beating again.

But it's different. Slower. Dangerously so.

He needs to get to Amity Park right now.

[muirmarie]

do you think when McCoy or Kirk are hurt, does Spock panic and check for their heartbeat in the wrong place and then panic even more when it's just the liver quietly chilling there. do you think McCoy makes fun of him mercilessly once it's confirmed that everyone is okay, and Spock has to gather his shattered dignity and pretend he just needed to check the liver for scientific reasons and also human bodies are stupid and it's not HIS fault. and then Jim tries to do damage control like, hey, i think livers are neat! And that of course makes it worse, and Spock goes off To Sulk until McCoy bullies him into taking a first aid refresher, which actually does make him feel better?

i think that happens. i think it happens twice. Spock's so angry the second time he says Very Mean Things about human organs. He makes a powerpoint, actually.

(McCoy makes him sit down for a one-on-one human anatomy class after the powerpoint fiasco, but it's a very hands-on course so Spock doesn't protest too much.)

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 223

Clockwork is Chronos and Kronos. He is time, sometimes split into many aspects but one all the same. Normally it’s not an issue, as at the end of any of the aspects they simply return to him, as the main body. It’s almost like a hivemind, though not quite that either. Honestly he’s not been able to explain it to anyone else, as it’s such an entwined thing with his being. 

Once again, normally there is no issue with it. However, instincts can bleed over, which apparently er, happened at some point. He’ll have to apologize to his aspect’s children for the misunderstanding when he gets the chance. 

He might have forgotten while dealing with other things, meaning he never explained it to that timeline’s children. Oh well, he’s sure nothing will come from it- he’s quite busy caring for his little ghostling who is turning out to be just like him, albeit with Space instead of Time, after all…

[alliekitaguchi]

love the idea of jayvik having kids and they're expecting the kids to look like jayce because the talis genes are strong but when the first little boy comes out with big hazel/gold eyes and moles and a soft, round face jayce realizes that he would die happily if the kids all came out looking like the love of his life

and then their son grows up and he's the spitting image of a young viktor (ximena swears that he's got jayce's smile and her father's nose, but jayce isn't fully convinced) and jayce sees them sitting together by the fireplace one night, viktor's gentle, lilting accent carrying above the dull roar of the fire as he reads to their son, and jayce just breaks down over how lucky he is

[notfeelingthyaster]

dick might be damian's parent in loco, but his favorite brother is tim. im convinced he would kill for tim. he would die for tim. he would join tim in his unavoidable villainy. and tim would kick damian through a window and hit jason with a crowbar for a dollar, so.