#spent a good chunk of time trying to figure that out

[sneaky-eel]

That Bunny!Desmond art is causing me to have very... Impure... thoughts... Especially involving his ancestors

They just want the chance to love their bunny

But Desmond knows they’re just trying to fatten him up.

[bonnvivre]

a funny thing- ch 24/25 word dump

WUAHAHAHA 4AM BABEY YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS

i’ve been cookin low and slow with this one and i mean real slow like. too slow . as in 2 weeks later whoops

this one’s a real doozy so grab a snack

FIRST PAGE ON THE GOSUKU TAG WHEN YOU SORT BY KUDOS LETS GOOOOOOO major rweiser W

———————————————

ch 24

thinking abt yuuji flying down the sidewalk and megumi becoming the equivalent of a flag whipping behind him pls yuuji not everyone can keep up 😭

fred says fuck

mmmmmm crunchy cookies i love me some egg shell

yeah with cooking, you can play around with the measurements and adjust along the way, but baking is whole different beast :[ i made creme brulee for our new year dinner, my first time baking actually, and i was terrified the entire process cus one wrong step and its over (they turned out good in the end, though i wanted to leave it in the fridge longer) 

sukuna and uraume on the same wavelength love that

daww megumi just be a kid its okay 

gojo’s nicknames for toji PLS father-fushi and fraidy-guro

hehehe he technically called sukuna pretty ,, i agree

LMAOOOOO AINT NO WAYY OFC HE SABOTAGED HIM 

i feel like toji would actually do well in getting sales (if he had the proper cookies) considering he’s “a pro at freeloading off women” which leads me to believe he’s got hella charisma . 

“Fushiguro stops just before the table, one hand balled into a fist so tight, the muscles of his arm are easy to see, flexing dangerously beneath his skin.” uwwheheheerhfbud sorry

OH SHT THE GIRLIES ARE FIGHTING YOOOOOOOO AND SUKUNA JUMPING IN FOR GOJO ???? in front of the kids in a school fundraiser is crazy lmao

pinky

gojo taking bets on who’s gonna win reminded me of mei mei betting on the gojo-sukuna fight

i had a crazy amount of secondhand embarrassment going thru that hhhhhh yknow that feeling when you just wanna curl up and cover ur eyes and you’re fighting to even look back ? yeaaaaa

“Hurting people is bad. And you’re not bad!” ohh yuuji ughhh he has no idea of what sukuna was before, that he’s done more than hurt people .. children really only see the side of their parents that they’ve allowed to show them. it’s why kids usually think the highest of them, so yuuji saying that sukuna’s not bad gets me cus he’s known and seen only the best of him. but it makes me feel gooey inside cus, while everyone else sees the former king of curses, yuuji sees his dad and when he does eventually find out, he’ll still always be his dad before anything else (does this make sense i hope it makes sense im trying to make my thoughts coherent)

oh hey they’re talking abt it !

I GASPED OH MY GOD PLEAS EOLASOE APLEAS EPLAS EPALEAPSLEAPSH NOOOOOOOOO FFGGHGBBVV HITTING MY BED GRFGHJVNGRRAAGGHHFEG

im being tortured i thinj you’re trying to kill me here this is the worst case of edging ive ever had in my life (no not like that) 

post-chapter notes:

IM ALREAYD RIOTING YASTOP BLUE BALLING ME

id read real housewives of jujutsu sorcery

————————————

ch 25

GRADE 1 ?? AS IN ONE ?? AS IN  O N E  ?? AS IN, YUUJI IS NO LONGER A PRESCHOOLER

when you said small time-skip, i thought you meant a few months later . i was wrong

aight time to update the time board: yuuji’s in first grade so he’s 6 yrs old, we’re in 2013 now (i think), gojo is 24 yrs old  23 yrs old (chap takes place during summer, bday not passed yet)

it’s 2013, he can get a 3ds now :D im gonna get him on smash bros . OR KID ICARUS UPRISING IT SHOULD BE OUT ALREADY

they should totally name the potential pet after me (jk)

OKAYYYY THATS A START HE KISSED HIM ON THE HEAD !! WE’RE GETTING SOMEWHERE :O now go lower. preferably on the li

oh yeah yeah definitely not together whatever helps you sleep at night man

im gonna need the bad bitches birthday bash one-shot someday with the way shoko’s bringing it up

the fact gojo’s heard the threat so many times before that he can finish it and brush it off

CANDY CRUSH  !!?!??

AWWWWWW THATS ADORABLE ;____; sukuna wanting to do something to surprise gojo’s first day as a teacher and yuuji suggesting to make a cake cus he knows his daddy loves sweets AND they spent the whole day prepping awawawawaw so cutee

they called on uraume for help too LOL poor them 

yuuji being a snitch HA i can’t help but think of my siblings

you can’t be serious gojo, not after that? people also don’t usually sleep and cuddle the homies cmon man

mother is mothering and mother is leading the herd (no but i love how he adapted to the role very easily, likely to prior experience)

whuh the fundraiser was last year ? am i overthinking the timeframe … ok im back after going thru the calendar that makes sense 👍 carry on wait hold on first semester of first grade ended so they’re on break ... summer break ?? unless this is going off of a different schooling system (oh yeah duh japan lol)

ohhh please let them meet mama-guro i can imagine the absolute shock on their faces trying to comprehend how someone like toji managed to marry someone like her 😭 bonus points if toji is much more softer around her too and the sheer whiplash of seeing him having ANY sort of loving side is enough to send gosuku into a spiral

“It’s exactly the type of thing Sukuna would never be caught dead wearing, which means Satoru must do all in his near-infinite power to make him wear it.” real

THESE THREE ARE RIDICULOUS LMAOOOOOO sorry kids your fathers are busy trying to one-up each other

“But, then again, these are just go-karts; how much damage could he really do?” famous last words before disaster

oh no

hey sukuna’s living life at least he’s having fun and that’s all that matters 🥰

not the pyramid projectiles

CONICAL AMMO !?$&7)-)26 MARIO KART IRL GONE WRONG oh my god its too late for this i need to sleep

OH MY GOD ?????? 

WHADDYA MEAN THEY’RE GONE ??????

post chap notes:

what just happened

no really what jusr happened

the amount of times i’ve said oh my god throughout the entire go-kart scene i was clutching my pearls

he recreates his reign in the silliest ways, all while wearing nice little red bow :3

nah i get it the entire first arc was dedicated to how messed up he was abt suguru so i understand the doubts but they’ve also near kissed multiple times .. unless they were super down with kissing the homies 

“I sure hope nothing bad has happened to them...” STOP

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

TYRANT- J. MILLER

day twenty four of the june bug masterlist

pairing: older! dilf! joel x fem! reader

word count: 1.4k

summary: you're home for the summer and the local bar is having a western night- and a certain older cowboy catches your eye. good thing you know how to lasso them in and ride them good...

warnings: SMUT- reverse cowgirl ofc, heavy praise kink, petnames, swearing, size kink, daddy kink, hair pulling, joel lowkey mocking and being all condensending, truck sex in the parking lot (kinda exhibitionism?), heavy flirting and sexual tension, intoxication

this is inspired by the time my local bar was hosting a country night and i made a "cowboys only" tramp stamp... yeah

“tyrant every time i ride it, every time i ride it/ make it look so good, try to justify it- boy, i know they're lookin' for me, how we gonna hide it?/ ride it like hydraulics, i am such a tyrant"- tyrant, beyonce

It had started as a joke.

And then, it hadn’t.

You had no marks on your skin, free of ink. Except for the eyeliner that had been used instead, for tonight.

It was Western Wednesday at the local bar- the go to spot back home surrounded by hay bales and tumbleweeds. Without a question being asked, you and your group of girlfriends had gathered at your house to get ready, talking over each other with excitement, catching up as you had all retunited from time away at school.

After a few drinks had been tossed back and rollers had been placed in heads of hair, you brought up the idea. It was silly, and you couldn't get through it without bursting out in giggles.

What if… what if I got a tramp stamp? Just for the night?

It had ended with you flat on your stomach, your friend scribbling your request in pretty font, just above where your thong poked out from your low rise jeans.

Cowboys Only, with a little bow under it.

It was teasing.

Poking out from under your little tank top whenever you lifted your arms up, throwing your head back to laugh and dance with your girls.

And it had gotten you exactly where you wanted to be.

On top of an older cowboy.

He had taken his time before he approached you. Heavy, heated gaze latched onto your figure as you slid past the wooden swinging doors, chatting with your crowd. Your eyes had met his instantly. Heat pooled in your panties and you knew.

That one. I want that one.

He was older, you could tell by his weathered hands and salt and pepper hair that framed his deep, dark puppy dog eyes. That had narrowed in on you.

Like a predator had found its prey.

You waited. You never claimed to be easy, even though you had spent your time gushing about how attractive the stranger in the corner was to anyone who’d listen. You had always joked to your girls about how badly wanted an older man to sweep you off your feet one of these nights.

You hoped tonight was the night.

It had taken a drink or two for you to let yourself relax a bit more, to get used to the buzz of the chatter and the neon lights of the bar. It was then you could dance, swaying your hips seductively side to side, feeling his eyes on you as he sipped on his beer.

Observing the little font that graced your lower back.

Your eyes met his again as you made your way up to the bar, sliding up next to him as you ordered a whisky sour.

“What's a pretty lil thing like you doing here on a Wednesday night?” he murmured lowly, breath smelling like mint and tobacco.

You hummed, watching as the bartender made your drink. “Western night. I like the cowboys.”

His eyebrow raised, a ringless hand drumming the oak bartop.

“S’that so sweetheart?”

You smirked, turning to flip up your shirt, exposing the font, and a good chunk of your little thong in the process. He had already seen it, of course. You had felt his eyes on you the whole time you had danced for him.

“You haven't seen?” you giggled seductively, throwing him a flirtatious little wink as you grabbed your drink from the bartender, tossing him an extra tip as you took a sip.

The mystery man leaned in close, a hand slipping down to cup the dip of your spine. You savoured the touch, his large palm covering the ink, warm and soft as he gripped you in place.

“You’re playing a dangerous game darlin.” he grumbled, southern drawl sending a shiver down your spine.

You hummed. Teasing him, as you leaned more into his touch. Letting his hand slide down to cup your ass, giving it a squeeze. Letting him be a disgusting pervert, when he knew he was so much better than that.

He was a gentleman. But you made him want to be anything but.

“How so sir?”

The name sent him spiralling. Fuck it.

“Because I’m twice your age, if not more darlin. And you’re making me think about dirty things.”

You battered your lashes at him, leaning down to rest your elbows on the bar, showing full cleavage. Doe eyes wide and innocent- while your actions were anything but.

“What things?”

“I wanna take you back to my truck and show you how a real man fucks. Cause I bet that pretty lil pussy hasnt been treated right by anyone your age.”

Well. That was the truth.

You wanted to find out what it was like, just once- to see where this could lead you. His dirty words sparked that flame in your lower belly, squeezing your thighs together.

Finishing your drink in one big swig, you slammed the glass down on the wood and whipped the remaining liquid that trickled from the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Well, what's stoppin you old man?”

゜✭・.・✫・゜ ゜✭・.・✫・゜

“Fuckkkkk. Joellll-” you moaned, gripping his thighs as you slid up and down. He was so fucking big he nearly split you in half. And it hurt so good.

“Watch that pretty mouth of yours honey, you know daddy doesn't like when you use dirty words.” he chuckled, admiring your pretty form swallow him up, a creamy ring formed around his base and grey pubes.

It took everything in you to not fold, your legs already quivering from the multiple orgasms he had given you already. Your brain felt incoherent.

“Mmm s’sorry I didn't mean to-”

“I know sweetheart, you're such a sweet girl. Heads just gone all dumb f’yer old man eh? Poor thing.” he cooed, taking your hair in his hands, tightening his grip on you.

Your head leaned back, still continuing to ride him in reverse cowgirl as he taunted you.

He was right. You hadnt been fucked like this before. And you never wanted to go back.

“Need s’help daddy please-” you cried, as you clenched around him again.

He knew your body like it was his own, making it sing and hum for him as he played it like an instrument. Despite him just meeting you tonight. He knew how to make you scream for him. Your voice was hoarse, and he could feel your legs start to quiver.

“Awh sweetheart I thought my lil cowgirl knew how to ride?”

You moaned as your pace was interrupted by his hips pummeling up into you, taking full control. Your back arched , your hair tugged on as if he was holding reins as you bounced from his thrusts.

Your nails dug into his thighs, a sharp cry leaving your lips that echoed off the fogged up windows of his pick-up.

“There you go darlin, just needed your daddy to help ya out yeah? My sweet girl just needed someone to take control of this tight lil cunny.” he whispered, a cocky smirk on his lips as he watched you squirm for him.

That damn ink flashed back at him- and he couldn't help but feel proud of himself for fulfilling the claim.

“S’good Joel, you feel so damn good…” you moaned, sweat trickling down your body, the smell of sex clinging to you like a second skin.

“Yeah baby? You gonna cum again?”

“Please, need to-” He chuckled lowly.

“Go ahead baby. Askin so nicely, always with the manners. M’gonna keep a sweet thing like ya around, ya understand?”

You nodded feverlishy, cuming around his cock with a cry as it hit that one spot that had you seeing stars. Basked in the comfort of his strong hands as they left your hair, finding their way to rest on your hips.

“Joel..”

“M’almost there sweetheart, just gonna use you for a lil okay? That sound okay baby? You just sit there and be all pretty.”

He moaned, letting his head roll back as you clenched around him tightly, biting his lip so hard he almost tasted copper.

“Fuck you're so tight. Such a sweet little cunt. Knew she’d take me so good.”

A few more sloppy thrusts into you and he was spent, filling you up to the brim, cooing sweet nothings at your worn out frame. He had fucked you so hard you knew it was a closed case.

He was the only cowboy you wanted. 

[pasukiyo]

I BLINKED AND SUDDENLY...

remus lupin x female!reader word count: 2,231 synopsis: insecurity kindles like a burning reminder across remus's cheeks. she deserves more than cheap flowers and a poorly-wrapped blind date with a book, but just when he begins to feel sorry for himself and makes to turn around and go back home, she catches his eye through the bookshop window. and he knows he's screwed. caught like a fish on a hook, she reels him in, and all he can do is pray that this valentine's day will be different from the rest.

…i had a valentine!

 He thinks the tips of his ears are red. 

 In a desperate attempt to hide them, Remus sifts his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands until they cover the tips of his ears but when he blinks up at his reflection in the bookshop window, he realizes how ridiculous he looks. A curse tumbles from his lips and he shakes his head around, combing his fingers back through his tresses, hoping his hair will fall back into place in the wake. 

 Maybe he can blame it on the cold. 

 The wind is a bit nippy today after all, and he’s walked at least a couple of miles between his flat, to the florist, then back to his flat when he realized he forgot to grab her damn gift, all the way to the bookshop he stands in front of now. He hopes she can’t see him now, ruffling his hair, trying to quell the scarlet that’s bloomed across his face. 

 He feels perspiration gather along his hairline and he sighs, wiping at his forehead with the sleeve of his coat. Maybe this is stupid, he thinks to himself, peering down at the bouquet and wrapped book in his hands. He’d spent quite a lot of time picking each of these things out for her— trying to figure out her favorite color and flowers, figuring out ways to subtly ask about the books she’s read to get a better idea of her preferences while simultaneously figuring out what books she hasn’t read yet. He’s seen enough photos on Pinterest and Instagram of blind date with a books to understand the concept but he fears he doesn’t project that well— his scrappy packaging and hasty handwriting is enough to make him suddenly want to throw everything away and make the trek home to crawl in bed and sulk for the next two to three years. 

 He thinks that’s what he’ll do— a spider of shame crawls from his ears, to his cheeks, down along the column of his neck when he peers down at the gifts he’d prepared. This isn’t enough for her, he thinks. She deserves more than flowers from one of the cheapest florists he could find in the city and a book she may or may not have already potentially read, packaged in probably the shittiest wrapping job that even children wouldn’t be entirely thrilled to open on Christmas morning. 

 A wave of nausea suddenly rumbles through the pit of Remus’s stomach and he thinks he should go now before he really embarrasses himself and blows the chunks of that piece of untopped toast he scarfed down this morning. He’s about to make a break for it when suddenly he sees her, through the window of the bookshop, guiding an older man to a bookshelf. 

 And he’s fucked. 

 Remus is entranced, his feet stuck on the pavement below him as he simply watches, watches the way she speaks with her hands and even through the glass, he can see how bright her eyes shine, gleaming with passion for whatever book she must be referring the customer to. He watches the way she listens as the older man speaks, eyes transfixed, head nodding as she soaks in every word, happy to offer whatever help she can. 

 She’s so… kind. And that’s just the simple way of putting it. She’s passionate, charismatic, she’s every guy like Remus’s dream: she works at a bookshop, she likes coffee and tea, she enjoys the classics, she listens to good music, she eats avocado on her toast, she’s even in a book club! 

 She speaks about her interests with a fervor that’s hard to come by these days and she meets others’ interests with an equal amount, even if it’s something she doesn’t normally find all too intriguing. She always seems to have her special way to make people feel comfortable and despite how incredibly cheesy Remus thinks it sounds, she’s always been capable of brightening even the darkest of rooms. 

 Remus truly believes that if the sun were to vanish, she’d be enough to even put the stars to shame. 

 It’s in Remus’s trance that she notices him standing by outside the window and her face splits in a grin, so natural that he doesn’t even initially notice it’s for him. Her mouth forms his name and that’s when he realizes: oh. 

 He’s screwed now. 

 She gestures with a hand for him to come in and it’s like it’s in his program to be incapable of resisting her, because his feet practically move on autopilot, straight through the entrance of her bookshop. 

 “Remus!” She exclaims when he enters and her voice, god, her voice feels like the breath of a fireplace along his skin in the coldest of winters and he’s suddenly made aware, again, of just how red the tips of his ears are as warmth spreads across his face. 

 His heart leaps against his chest and he doesn’t know how he was able to even muster a coherent sentence, but he greets her back, albeit, rather meekly. Her smile widens and Remus thinks that the world has stopped spinning because he swears nothing moves around them when she does it, when she looks at him like that. 

 “Quite a gloomy day for what’s supposed to be one of the happiest days of the year, don’t you think?” He hears her say and he clears his throat, hoping it will snap him out of his stupor. 

 Get it together, he hisses at himself. Rotting in bed, whether you like it or not, is not a fruitful way to live out the rest of your days. 

 He turns to peer out the window. It was a rather drab and gray day, he concurs, and the wind came with a harsh chill. The conditions were certainly less than ideal, what with all the running around he’s done throughout the day. 

 “Yes,” he manages, a little awkwardly as he turns back to face her. When he does, he finds she’s eyeing the items he’s since forgotten he was even holding and suddenly, he thinks he’ll melt into a puddle of magma right then and there. 

 That, or he’ll just turn and run away until his legs can’t hold his weight anymore. 

 “How cute!” She says, nodding down at the bouquet and book. “Did you make a blind date with a book for your girlfriend?”

 Remus blinks, a little surprised. She thought he already had a girlfriend? He wonders if he should take this as a sign that maybe she didn’t feel the same way— she thinks he’s taken, after all. Is she not interested in him after all? Was he wrong to suppose that maybe she’d even give him a chance?

 His mouth opens and closes, trying and failing to give her a coherent reply, an elongated ‘uh’ emitting instead, a little dumbly. She simply blinks at him, waiting for him to reply, perhaps a little less enthusiastic than before but Remus assumes it’s because of how incredibly awkward he’s acting. 

 He presses his lips together and closes his eyes, tightening his fists around the gifts, and breathes. He’s tired of embarrassing himself, of being so incredibly self-conscious and timid that it prevents him from simply talking to someone, from making friends, from telling her how he feels. This is far from the first time he’s spoken to her and he should know by not that she’s not the kind of person to make him feel bad, whether or not she accepts or rejects him. 

 And he’s put so much thought into this. That’s got to account for something, right? Never mind how bad his handwriting or wrapping skills are or how cheap these damn flowers are— he should know by now that she’s the kind of person to value intent over expense. 

 So, he sucks in another deep breath, shakes the warmth away from his cheeks (to the best of his ability), and he takes his shot. 

 “Actually, these are for you,” he says, daring a step forward, extending his arms to present her with the gifts. She blinks down at them, eyes rounding in surprise. Remus shakes away that nagging sense of insecurity and continues. “You know, I’ve been coming here for quite awhile and you’ve always… you’ve always been so nice and I just thought… I’ve always just thought that you’re so… beautiful and I…”

 He trails off, heart pounding against his chest when she glances up at him again, meeting his eye. Her gaze is so bewitching, so heavenly, he thinks she must’ve been crafted by the gods and goddesses above, sent down to Earth solely to catch him like a fish on a hook and keep him here, enthralled by her forever. A single look from her is enough to make him want to sink to his knees and pray for just an ounce of worthiness so that he could merely be around her for even just a minute. 

 He’s completely trapped now and even though he knows she’s the kind of person who would make rejection still feel nice, he thinks he’d die right then and there on the spot if she were to refuse him, if she were to say she’s not interested, if she says there’s already someone else. 

 “…I know you said you liked these flowers so I hope you like them, sorry they’re a little… windblown,” he titters nervously as he hands them to her. “I’ve been running around incessantly all morning.”

 She takes them from him cautiously, a furrow in her brow as she brings them closer to her nose, taking in their scent. 

 “And I… I really hope you don’t already have this one,” he says, handing her the wrapped book, a little hesitantly. “I tried to find one I was sure you haven’t read. And, uh, sorry for the, uh… well,” he gestures to the pisspour wrapping skills and not to his surprise, she laughs but much to his surprise, it’s more amused than anything. 

 “‘Dark Academia, whimsical, secret societies?’” She reads his handwriting scribbled across the brown packaging  “Remus, this is…” she trails off and for a moment, Remus’s stomach sinks and he really feels like he’s another to blow chunks of toast all over the place. 

 Just then, her face splits into the most marvelous smile he thinks he’s ever laid eyes on, the entire universe put to shame by this girl, this beautiful, enchanting girl. And that smile is all for him. 

 “…this is the most thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me, I think,” she continues with a breathy laugh, curling her fingers around the ends of the wrapping paper. “You don’t mind if I…?”

 “No, go ahead,” Remus says with a breathy laugh of his own. He watched as she tears through the paper, pulling the paperback out of the wrappings, her face— if it was at all possible— glowing brighter than he’s ever seen it before. 

 “The Starless Sea?” She says in more of a shriek, meeting his gaze again as she hugs the book to her chest. “I’ve been meaning to pick this one up for ages! How did you know?”

 He didn’t, but he’s more than relieved to have been the cause of that devastatingly pretty look upon her face now. 

 “You recommended The Secret History by Donna Tartt that one time to me a few months back and told me about how much you loved it,” he replies, resting his elbows on the counter, a newfound air of ease around him. “It was amazing, by the way. I immediately began searching for books like it. I’d hoped you hadn’t gotten to this one yet.”

 He thinks her eyes are beginning to gloss over and he blinks, dipping his brow, afraid she might cry for a moment. He yearns to see that smile of hers again, but before he can ask her what the matter is, she circles around the counter and practically leaps at him, locking her arms around his neck in a hug that he nearly recoils from out of instinct. It’s so shocking— being so close to her all at once, to be touching her and for her to be the one initiating but he breaks himself out of his stupor again, resting his hands on the small of her back, afraid to lose her touch once he has it. 

 After a moment, she pulls away just enough to peer up at him and Remus thinks that even if she were to reject him now, it would’ve all been worth it just for her to look at him the way she does now. He feels his lip tremble as she brings a hand up to his hair, the tips of her fingers brushing against the tips of his ears. 

 “Your ears are red,” she notes and he screws his lips together, swallowing down the boulder-sized lump at the base of his throat. She laughs and for a moment, a silence falls and he doesn’t realize she’s blinking up at him expectantly until she breaks it. “Aren’t you supposed to say, ‘will you be my Valentine?’”

 Remus blinks back at her, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch but he doesn’t muster the courage to repeat it. She grins again, her warm knuckles dragging along his cheek. 

 “Because my answer is undoubtedly yes.”

a/n: FINALLY GOT AROUND TO WRITING A VALENTINE'S DAY FIC THIS YEAR! i hope you all enjoy! wrote this all in one sitting so not sure of its quality... but nevertheless, i hope you enjoy shy, fluffy remus <3

💌 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it would be such a great valentine's day gift 🥰🫶

TAGLIST!

@pinktree

@iamthejam

@strangerfromketterdam

@burns-in-the-sun

@cancelledkaley

@d3adp00ls

@all-in-the-fandoms

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

on tumblr lot more people know about it which great! that improve life of all AAC users. but pretty much with anything disability/developmental disability space on social media (which need certain amount of cognitive/intellectual & language abilities be on even if have support), good majority you see be teen & adult people who already literate learn language via speech n write *first* n then *independently* learn AAC base on it *later*.

especially symbol based AAC, but all AAC, is new system n hard n take long time learn even when you literate & not moderately severely cognitively disabled. but also, “literate teen/adult independent learn AAC” not at all full face of AAC user community.

as in like. experience of theirs. not universal. independently motivated & able to look up different AAC options different AAC apps, compare n contrast. download app n immediately know how to use, or able figure out by self. first time use app n may be clunky n slow, but make sentence on first try. need learn AAC, but most of that learning is for where words are (if button based), how exist as AAC user in public with confidence, etc. those all valid but not true for everyone who need AAC, especially not developmentally disabled children (& some adults) with complex communication needs.

most developmentally disabled children (n some adults) w complex communication needs who need AAC, can’t just hand them tablet with symbol based AAC app or text to speech AAC app n then wait for magic. many of them developmentally delayed in way, not taught in way that fit them (e.g. gestalt language processors), n their language abilities behind peers, so they can’t read, can’t spell, can’t grammar, etc.

some of them need learn where word is not by read word, sometimes not even by understand symbol, instead is by other people press button n hear sound n associate that with meaning n location on AAC n symbol associate with it. in other words, they learning language alongside AAC.

for some their learn process look like, learn how use AAC say one word. n then much later, try make two word message, “want food” “go school.” “two word message” incredibly common goal for many these developmentally disabled children, teens, n even adults, that is something rare n truly extraordinary for that person that need be celebrated.

for others it look like learn by phrase (gestalt), then slowly break it down into smaller phrase n chunks n finally single words.

many of them babble (click random/seemingly random buttons on high tech device, stim with it, etc). but ultimately, won’t be able learn all by self. need be taught, see you accidentally spill water n crying, maybe you “feel” “sad”, n when that happen you “need” “help” from adult. need learn AAC by adults around them constantly model with it, constantly use it in conversation, show them how use. because they learning language along side it.

but also some of them don’t know what this thing in front of them (AAC… device, low tech boards or picture cards, etc) is. don’t know what communication is or you should do that. don’t know people exist who you should communicate to & with. heard many parents n SLP say they try model all time, try all kind of stuff, but child just not seem interested in it, don’t look at it, don’t touch it, don’t use it.

people who use AAC, not all them struggle with only speech. some them struggle with language, with intellectual/cognitive. some of them very developmentally delayed.

n some people, too disabled learn or use AAC. yeah, they exist.

for people who cannot use / cannot only use speech to be understood, AAC can be life changing. but is so much more complex thing. AAC still not as widely used n accepted n properly taught n supported as should, some parents n professionals n schools still many pushback n refuse. but sometimes answer to “have you tried AAC for them” is “yes, but they need long time n lots help to learn n we not very far yet even though spent long time on it” or “yes, but they simply not show interest even after constant model” or “god, wish can, but insurance only cover if show some amount of communication competence n ability use AAC, while only give 1 month trial, which simply not enough time” (wide spread thing that happen) or “yes. many types. it not work.”

for many AAC users & AAC user-to-be, it not as simple as “be handed AAC n check back in while they figure out by self”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Anakin flirting with m reader and ending making out? Pls

Anakin Skywalker x Male reader

Headcanons

You are a non-jedi general during the Clone wars, cuz yall lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship.

This turned out a lot sweeter than i had planned ngl.

You were a general during the clone wars. You weren’t anything special, you couldn’t use the force, you weren’t from some rich or special background, your name didn’t carry any weight. The only gift you seemed to have, was your inability to be affected by the force. All in all, you weren’t anything to write home about.

Of course, that’s also what made you so damn useful in your role. No one kept an eye on you, everyone underestimated you, you could get away with so much because to most people in charge, you didn’t exist. You not being able to be manipulated by the force, also made you extremely skilled in what you did, without anyone seeming to notice.

Your feat of climbing the military ranks in leaps and bounds only got you mild acknowledgments, and a handful of attempted manipulations from some people in power. But when they realized you didn’t bend, but you weren’t important enough to get rid of, they left you alone.

At 22 you had reached the rank of senior general in the republic army, placing you above even a good chunk of the jedi you fought against, which was also why you had been placed with the 501st, to apparently teach their general the basics.

Anakin and Obi-Wan had both been unsettled by the fact that they couldn’t sense you in the force the first time you met. Every being, even the nonliving, had a presence. But you didn’t. it was like you didn’t exist.

That took quite some time to get used too, especially to someone as force sensitive as Anakin. But over time you two started getting along, and though it took him some time and a lot of grumbling, Anakin did learn quite a lot from you.

The flirting had been subtle in the beginning, or as subtle as Anakin could be. From getting your help on reports and readings he just “couldn’t understand”, to getting you to help him stretch after he had spent hours going through his katas.

You weren’t oblivious, you couldn’t be with the life you lived, so of course you noticed his attempts at flirting. It was endearing in a way. To see someone who was supposed to have no connection to people like that, seem so drawn to you.

It also left you feeling uneasy in a way, as you had never really had much time to relationships or even flirting for that matter, having spent all these years making something of yourself.

Alongside the flirting you two became good friends, and you had even signed yourself up to stay with his platoon, even when your training was done. This was also where you learned he had had a thing with Padme, but they realized they were better as friends a while ago.

When you shared your own lack of experience, it seemed to boost some of Anakin’s confidence, seeing as you both were on new ground. And like with anything else, he took to it with gusto.

The fact that you never turned him down or rejected him, sometimes even laughing and playing along, only made Anakin try even harder. It was cute, to see him trying his best to woo you in a subtle and less noticeable way, seeing as he was still a jedi and it wasn’t actually allowed.

The 501st knew though. Of course they knew, and when Ahsoka came around she figured it out very fast, and she most likely took up the role as hype man and background support.

Your flirting became part of your dynamic, it was just something that you two did, which to outsiders was just seen as banter to keep the spirits up.

It also didn’t go past flirting for a long time, seeing as you guys were always surrounded by people. And being besides Anakin didn’t let you slip into the shadows like you were used too, since he would glow so brightly.

The need for privacy was what had you two slinking off to the side during one of the nights in camp, the platoon having settled down on a planet and waiting for their next orders. Anakin and you had decided to wander off, settling somewhere nearby, but far enough away to get some time alone together.

There might also have been a bottle of alcohol in your coat. It was nowhere near enough to get either of you drunk, especially with the force helping clear it out of Anakin’s system quicker than average folk. But it was enough to loosen up and get comfortable.

Your normal banter of flirting was constant, but as the buzz settled it became something softer and somehow hotter, the feelings growing thick in the air and noticeable enough that even you, who was as force sensitive as a rock if not lesser, could sense it.

Anakin must have made some corny pass at you, that cocky grin on his lips and his hair brushed back and out of his face, letting you truly see his handsome features. Something came over you, later you would blame the force, but it just felt right.

Leaning in and closing the gap between you seemed to have shocked Anakin, his eyes wide before he seemingly melted against you, arms wrapping around your neck and torso and pulling you even closer.

The kiss was far from the most skilled or pleasant, but your shared lack of experience was fully made up for by enthusiasm.

Anakin would pant and grunt as the kiss turned steamier, lips parting and tongues rubbing together, spit gathering at the edges of your mouths and a line of drool running down his chin. His eyes were shut tightly in concentration, his brows furrowed and hands grasping as your coat.

You had no idea how long you two were laying there, kissing like two lovesick fools from some romance novel. Hands were grasping and exploring, but never going further than that. Now wasn’t the time to go any wilder than what you were doing, but the possibility of it was enough to make the kiss even better.

When you pulled away, Anakin leaned after you with a soft noise, bottom lip pouting out and red from the insistent kissing, his eyes cracking open to look at you with the softest look you had ever seen from him.

“Not all of us can hold our breath for hours” you snarked with a soft chuckle, since you knew he could, thanks to the force. Your jedi grumbled, but tucked his head under your chin, still clutching you close and brushing his lips against your neck.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just holding onto each other. You found yourself brushing your fingers through his hair, Anakin almost arching into the touch like an affection starved tooka, a sight that only made you smile more.

“I like you a lot” he mumbled, glancing up at you through his lashes with that insistent determined, but somehow still soft and warm look in his eyes. Just seeing him like that made you wanna kiss him again, to devour him whole.

“I think I like you too” you replied, an upwards tick to your lips as you pulled him close again. Even without the ability to feel the force, you could still feel it flare, like the sun rising in the morning. It would be no surprise if Ahsoka knew exactly what had happened, and the padawan would be confronting you guys about it later.

But right now all that mattered was laying there with Anakin, and maybe stealing a couple more of those deep insistent and longing kisses, since he sounded so pretty when you did. You guys could deal with everything else later.

[topazy]

Tomorrow’s promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence

Chapter: 5.05

Using a damp cloth, Michonne helps to wipe the blood that’s starting to dry off your skin. Breaking out in a sweat, your heart hammers in your chest; Daryl and Carol haven’t come back from collecting water, and the small search party out looking for Bob hasn’t returned.

Whimpering pulls you from your thoughts; you look over at Carl, who was holding your fussing son.

Father Gabriel speaks up from his place near the door, breaking the near silence in the room. “They are our future; humanity’s not dead—we still have hope.”

“Maybe there are survivors, but humanity is gone.”

Just as you go to stand with the intention of taking Jace from Carl, you hear a loud noise coming from outside that startles everyone. Just as you reach for your knife, a gunshot rings out, and Abraham, Rosita, Michonne, and you all aim your weapons at the main door, expecting to see an intruder, but the doors burst open and Rick stumbles inside. “We need help moving him!”

“Him?”

As you rush outside on the heels of Glenn, you hear Rick say, “Maggie, Tara, we need to make space.”

Before you know it, you’re standing on the dirt path staring down at Bob’s bloody body. Your chest tightens when you notice why Sasha is so frantic; now that your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, you can see clearly that Bob’s left leg from the knee down was amputated.

—

Once inside, you help place Bob on a blanket on the floor of the church. Maggie brings a first aid kit out from the back room, but Bob shakes his head; he didn’t want any more help.

Sweat drips from his forehead as he starts to wheeze. “I was in the graveyard, and somebody knocked me out, a woman, I think. I just remember seeing a lot of blonde hair, then everything went dark. I woke up outside this place; it looked like a school. They were eating my leg in front of me, like it was nothing. All proud, like they had it all figured out.”

Rick asks the question you’ve been too afraid to voice. “Did they have Daryl and Carol?”

“Gareth said they drove off.”

Sasha struggles to hold back tears and, forcing a smile, says, “you need to take some painkillers.”

“No… I don’t want it wasted on me.” Bob pulls the collar of his top down, letting you all see a chunk of flesh that’s been bitten from his shoulder. “It happened at the food bank.”

The wound wasn’t a human bite; it was from a walker.

—

Noticing the look of devastation on Rick’s face, you try and comfort him, squeezing at his shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

“Bob… he’s… I didn’t know…”

Bob was resting on the sofa in the church's office.

“I know, but it was his choice to keep it to himself,” you say quietly. “I know this is a bad time, but we’ve still got two people missing; those freaks are probably outside waiting to see what we do next, and there is a school ten minutes away full of walkers. We need a plan.”

The room briefly falls silent until Abraham gets to his feet. “Alright, people, it’s time for a reality check; we all need to leave for DC right now.”

“We aren’t going anywhere without Daryl and Carol, and we can’t travel with Bob…”

“Look, I respect not wanting to split up your family, but there’s a clear threat to Eugene. I need to extract his ass before things get any uglier. So if y’all won’t come, good luck to you. We’ll go our separate ways.”

Both Eugene and Rosita follow the redhead hesitantly. After all the time you’ve spent together, this wasn’t how you imagined you’d all go your separate ways. Scoffing, Rick says, “you leaving on foot?”

“We fixed that damn bus ourselves.”

Rick’s tone goes dangerously low, “there are a lot more of us.”

“You want to keep it that way? You should come.”

Rick and Abraham go back and forth in circles. Eventually Glenn intervenes and tries to calm the situation down. “Do you really think that you’re going to be any safer leaving right now in the middle of the night?”

“Yeah,” Abraham nods. “Yeah, I do, actually.”

“It’s pitch black out there, and for all we know, they have slashed the tires on the bus or are waiting inside it. You should wait until morning.”

Tara suddenly stands. “If you stay one more day, I’ll go with you to DC.”

Abraham waits a beat before replying, “Glenn and Maggie, too.”

“Absolutely not.”

When Rick and Abraham start to charge at each other, still heated from their argument, you jump between them and shake your head at the redhead. “You’re the one who told me we’d kill every one of those sons of bitches when they took Jace. But we didn’t, and now they are going to keep coming back and pick us off one by one.”

“That’s exactly why I, Rosita, and Eugene are getting the hell out of here.”

He goes to pick up his backpack to leave, but you call out to him, “help me, help me stop them.”

Knowing that Abraham still wasn’t fully convinced, Glenn steps forward: “if you stay and help us, me and Maggie will go with you to Washington.”

Your heart sinks; you didn’t want your group to split up, but you respected Glenn a lot for what he was willing to do.

—

The atmosphere is tense; everyone is too afraid to speak in case it causes another argument within the group. The loud voices from before had drawn in a few stray walkers, but thankfully the unexpected caused them to be drawn to another noise in the distance.

Gently rocking your arms while staying out of view from the window, you suddenly get an idea. “The lasker trap,” you mumble before addressing the rest of the room. “The governor was much smarter than them, and he fell for I bet they would as well.”

Rosita raises her brows questioningly, “fell for…”

Maggie tells everyone who wasn’t present at the prison a short version of what happened with the governor. It was risky, but you were running out of options; those people could attack at the church at any moment, or they could be waiting for Carol and Daryl to return and grab them then. Going head-to-head with the people from terminus was the only way to end it.

“We don’t have the same supplies as we did then,” Glenn says. “Plus, we don’t have Beth and Hershel to watch over Judith and Jace.”

Rosita gets to her feet. “I’ll do it; I’ll keep them safe.”

Abraham gives her a pointed look. “Eugene stays here. He’s not a fighter.”

You nod in agreement.

Rick licks at his lips, “okay then, let’s come up with a plan.”

—

While the others quickly reloaded their weapons, you took Carl into the back room and showed him the secret escape in the floorboard. You hand him a bag with food rations, water, and ammo along with the keys to the bus. “If things go south, you take Jace and Judith and run. You don’t stop to look for us; you just keep going.”

“No, I’m not leaving you or my dad.”

“Carl—“

“This will work,” he says confidently. “It had to; I’m not losing anyone else.”

Pulling him into a tight hug, you let out a deep sigh. “I hope it works, kid, but if it doesn’t look good, promise me you’ll go. I can’t go out there without knowing you, Jace, and Judith are safe.”

“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees. “Aunt Lil?”

“Yeah.”

“Daryl will be okay.”

—

Your group splits into two, with Tyreese and Rosita staying behind in the church to protect the kids along with father Gabriel and Eugene, although you suspect Carl would be much better at keeping them safe than the latter.

“We’ve got this,” Sasha whispers as you start to walk away from the church. “Just don’t look back; if they know we know, it’s all over.”

“I’m sorry about Bob.”

“It’s not your fault.”

When the church almost disappears behind the thick trees, you all crouch down and wish. Rick counts until three minutes and then raises his hand for the group to return.

You and Maggie scout the outside of the church while the others go directly inside. With all the candles out and torches turned off, half of the church hall was cast into darkness by a shadow. You tap your foot twice on the steps as previously discussed and make your way into the main hall with the brunette by your side. Just as you enter, Rick shoots two men in the head who are about to unlock the office door; their blood splatters across the church walls.

“Put your guns on the floor.”

Panicked Gareth stares in the shadow, trying to figure out your brother’s location. “Rick, we’ll fire right into that office. So you lower your gun…”

Rick shoots him in the hand, causing him to cry out in pain. Slowly, he steps out into the moonlight and says, “Put your guns on the floor and kneel.”

All of them get to their knees aside from one man, whining. Gareth gazes up at him, his teeth clenched. “Martin, there’s no choice here.”

“Yeah, there is.”

From what Tyreese and Carol told you, Martin is the man who had his hands wrapped around Judith’s neck. Abraham emerges beside him, pointing his gun at Martin. “Want a bet?

Gasping in pain Gareth looks up at your brother and says, “There’s no point in begging, right?”

“No.”

“Still, you could have killed us when you came in. There had to be a reason for that.”

The deadly look in your brother's gaze turns your blood cold. He cocks his head to the side and says, “We didn’t want to waste the bullets.”

Slowly you backed up and stood by the open door under the pretense of keeping watch, but in reality you just didn’t want to watch what was about to happen. No doubt there was a twisted irony when you were the one who came up with this plan but didn’t want to actually kill anyone. Not again.

“I already made you a promise.” Rick raises his machete and hacks Gareth in the neck.

Michonne, Sasha, Abraham, and Rick let out all their pent-up anger as they brutally beat the survivors from terminus to death.

They needed to die.

But it was still horrid to see.

When the door from the office creaks open, you practically leap over the backed-up bodies on the ground and shove Carl back inside, shielding him. The inside of the church was covered in red blood splatters that painted the floors and walls, which was something Carl didn’t need to see.

—

The last twenty-four hours have been agonizing. Not only did the incident at the church happen, but Bob was dead. The dirt from digging his grave is still fresh underneath your nails, and Daryl and Carol have yet to return.

“It feels weird without them.”

Smiling, you crouch down to help your nephew scrub at the blood-stained floor. Chances are the blood would never fully wash away, but it felt good to help remove as much as you could. “Yeah, but we will see them again. Glenn and Maggie are survivors.”

After Maggie, Glenn, and Tara left to go to DC with Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene, everyone remaining was emotionally exhausted. It didn’t take long for people to start falling asleep in the two back rooms, aside from whoever was on watch, which right now was Michonne.

“So I'm awake because I was checking on the babies. Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep. I keep having the same dream or nightmare.”

Concerned, you stop scrubbing and ask, “What’s your dream about?”

Carl goes to answer you, but he’s cut off when the main door creaks open and two sets of footsteps enter. You don’t even need to look down the aisle to know whose the heavier footfall belongs to.

“Daryl.”

“I’m going to wake my dad,” Carl whispers.

Daryl starts to walk towards you and waves for a kid who looks to be around sixteen or seventeen to follow him inside. “Michonne told me what happened—”

“Where were you?”

[pastorpresent]

part 2 to this, but it's not necessary reading to understand this:) tw for panic attacks

-

Logan is going to find every motherfucking TVA agent and rip them methodically into a hundred little chunks, which he's then going to serve to dogpool for her lunch.

He's just got to find Wade and get out of this stupid fucking warehouse first - and seriously, dingy old warehouse for an evil fucking lair? Get creative for once, jesus christ.

The thing was, this mission was supposed to be the definition of easy. The TVA just wanted them to catch some stupid deadpool variant, slap their cuffs on him and be done with it. Hell, Wade had even been looking up nearby lunch spots because they were so convinced they'd be done for then.

They weren't. The variant thing was a trap - which somehow completely went over the TVA's heads - and the place was actually an experimentation warehouse for mutants. They were baited there like fish to a hook, and Wade had been grabbed before either of them could fully grasp what was happening.

Wade was grabbed - and Logan was loosing his god damn mind, because he'd seen the uncharacteristic flicker of fear over the mercs face when they realised what this place was, watched Wade thumb through the paperwork with a tight expression, unsettlingly silent.

He understood. He'd been there, quite literally, but he had the small mercy of not remembering it so completely. His time spent chained to an experimentation table was mercifully shorter than Wades, and he only recalled brief flashes of it.

Wade had told him one night after a few too many drinks that he remembered his weeks in that warehouse vividly. Every second of it was etched into his brain like a branding, and if Logan had known that this mission would take them anywhere even slightly resembling that trauma he would've told the TVA to stick their mission so far up their ass they start choking on it.

He didn't, though, and now he was stuck hiding outside trying to figure out a way to get in there and grab Wade without getting caught himself. He needed back up, realistically.

It stung to call the X-Men. He hated doing it, because seeing them in this universe... it just reminded him of what he'd failed to protect. Of the team he'd essentially killed.

He'd gladly suck all of that up and toss his baggage aside if it meant helping Wade, though.

Even with their help (and their insistence on cuffing instead of murder) It still took a good half hour for them to clear the place.

Logan was growing antsy. He'd seen the sideways looks from Storm and Rogue as his murders grew more brash and violent, prioritising wiping the bastards out as rapidly as possible over doing so in a way which was... more composed and less bloody.

He'd killed about thirty. The team had cuffed and sedated the other lucky twenty, and had taken the... test subjects somewhere safe. Most of them were mutilated beyond looking like recognisable people, half alive, and honestly Logan thought they'd be better off just being put down and freed from their agony, but he didn't voice that. He didn't have time for a morals debate, not when the bastards have had Wade for almost a fucking hour.

"Wade!"

He was dipping in and out of every curtain, trying to find the idiot. His booming voice was echoing through the entire place, and so wherever he was he mustn't be conscious, or verbally able to respond.

Finally he pulled back a curtain and found him.

He was in a glass cylinder, strapped down with thick leather bindings, and was gasping for breath periodically as his skin burned.

An oxygen deprivation machine. The same type that gave Wade his mutation in the first place.

Those fucking sick bastards. He hoped that the team had gotten those men they cuffed the fuck out of here or Logan was going to chop off their fingers and make them eat them, then beat them to the point they were begging for death, and then he'd beat them some more and let them die from blunt force trauma, slowly and in agony on a dirty warehouse floor.

He surged forward, using his claws to bust holes in the machine, allowing immediate air flow while he figured out how to get the damn thing open.

He figured it out, the lid lifting, but something was wrong.

Wade was still gasping for air, his now free hands scratching at his neck desperately.

"Wade, breathe," Logan ordered a little harshly, grabbing the younger man's shoulders.

Big mistake apparently.

Wade was up in an instant, grabbing a nearby scalpel and driving it harshly into Logan's shoulder, his teeth bared and the air missing his usual cry of 'baby knife'.

"Wade, what the fuck are you-"

He was cut off by the medical scissors being thrown at his face, embedding deep into his cheek just below his eye, and fuck that hurt.

"Wade-" he grabbed him, trying to stop him from reaching for any more makeshift weapons, but Wade punched him hard in the face, driving the scissors deeper, and then proceeded to kick him in the balls.

Logan grunted at the impact, barely staying upright and releasing his grip in the momentary recovery.

Wade grabbed a gun from the side and started shooting recklessly, and Logan was painfully aware that some of the X-Men currently standing just a few flimsy curtains away were not as bullet proof as what he was.

He dove atop of Wade, tackling him to the floor, hissing with every bullet that the merc emptied into his torso.

"Wade, stop!"

"Get the fuck off me! Let me go!" Wade screamed, actually screamed at the top of his lungs, his breathing rapid and eyes hard but full of suffocating fear as he thrashed and struggled.

Logan felt horrible. He felt like the shittiest person on the planet, because Wade clearly had no idea what was happening in his panic, didn't recognise Logan or remember the circumstances, and he was terrified. Terrified of continued torture that was sure to come in his mind if Logan 'caught him', and he had no clue what to do.

"Wade it's me, alright? It's Logan. I'm trying to help you."

"I don't- get the fuck off me! Please! Just let me go!"

Wade was sobbing and begging, and from the grip Logan had of his lithe body he could feel his breathing growing shallower.

"I will, bub. I will, but I need you to put the gun down, alright?" Logan said carefully.

He wasn't going to let Wade come out of this having killed somebody he cared about accidently. He wasn't letting him be burdened by that guilt.

"I- I don't- please," Wade sobbed, and Logan swallowed thickly.

"Gun down, Wade," he repeated firmly, and this time he felt the barrel leave his torso and clatter onto the ground.

He continued to pin Wade down with just one arm as he grabbed the gun and tucked it into the back of his jeans.

"Good boy. That's good, thank you. I'm gonna let you up now, bub. Think you can stop trying to kill me for a second so we can talk?"

Wade whimpered softly, and nodded once in response.

Logan eased up on him gradually, rising to his feet and offering out a hand to help Wade do the same.

The younger man didn't take it, scrambling up by himself on shaky legs, taking a few stumbling steps backwards away from Logan.

That stung a little, but he understood. Wade clearly still didn't grasp who he was, and it was probably a very natural reaction to want distance between yourself and your conceived captor who had you pinned to the ground moments ago.

"Look at me, ok? You know me, bub. You know I'm not here to hurt you."

"I- I just want you to let me go. I just want to go home to Vanessa, please."

And maybe that one stung... a lot, more so than any of the sharp objects lodged into his body right now. He often worried about what his existence in this universe meant for Wade. He worried him being here, some sort of unnatural and inconvenient prescence, made it so Wade felt he couldn't truly go after what he wanted. A life with the girl, a few kids, a decent home.

Instead he got stuck with Logan, an alcoholic mess who could barely tolerate basic human interaction most days, and he knew Wade would argue that it was actually vice versa - that Logan was the one stuck with him - but it just wasn't true. Not when Wade was the one with a life he imposed on.

That day with Vanessa, when he'd just almost killed Wade from his own stupidity, rang clear in his head.

('You almost killed him, Logan! He could be dead right now because of you!' Vanessa screamed, voice thick with emotion.

Logan couldn't even bring himself to disagree, or defend himself.

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. You know I didn't mean it,' he stressed, staring at Wade's limp body on the couch, his torso wrapped with blood stained bandages.

She looked at him too, and for a painful few moments, there was just heavy silence. It felt like a boot hovering over them, waiting to drop.

'You know, ever since you... appeared here, bad shit has happened. Wade's not himself, because he spends so much of his time on you. He's always in danger trying to drag your sorry ass to safety. It's not fair.'

The boot dropped, and squished him whole.)

"We can. I'll take you to her, but you need to settle down first, bub. Look at me?" Logan said, taking the tiniest of steps closer.

Wade didn't move back, which he took as a win, and he did finally stop his rapid searching to look at him.

"Good. Good job, think you can try match my breathing?"

Another step forward, this one intentionally impossible to avoid noticing, just to gauge Wade's response.

He looked uneasy still but didn't move, and nodded minutely.

Logan breathed in and out slowly, intentionally exaggerated and verbally guiding Wade through it.

It took several minutes, but eventually after calming down considerably, the confusion seemed to evaporate alongside the panic.

"Good boy, again, ok? 1...2...3...4.... exhale-"

"Logan?"

He could've just about collapsed with fucking relief. For a minute or two, he was growing worried that the temporary confusion and amnesia was from more than just the panic attack and the torture chamber. That those bastards had done something to erase his memories just like Stryker had done to him.

"Yeah, it's me, bub," he sighed, shoulders deflating.

"What- what happened?! They hurt you?" Wade hissed, marching into his space and pulling out the scalpel. He reached for the scissors but Logan grabbed his wrist to stop him, opting to ease those out himself.

"Well, you could say that," Logan shrugged, and Wade's brows knotted together, until it seemed the events of the last ten minutes hit him and he gasped, stumbling back and away from him.

Logan didn't know exactly what came over him. Maybe he just couldn't stand the idea of Wade slipping away from him again so soon, even on the most basic physical level.

He filled the space between them, grabbing Wade by his shirt and yanking him forward into a tight hug.

"I hurt you, I fucking shot you-"

"Isn't the first time, won't be the last. Don't you fucking apologise to me, you idiot - you can shove your apologies into that smart ass mouth of yours and swallow 'em," Logan warned, and Wade laughed, but it quickly dissolved into a muffled sob, his hands coming up to fist the back of Logan's shirt desperately.

"They- they-"

"Are gone. It's done. You're safe, unlike those fuckers at the TVA the next time I see them," he growled, and Wade let out another watery laugh, hiding his face away in Logan's neck.

"Take me home?"

"Glady, bub."

[toy-dragon]

Part of my New Years Resolutions involves trying to play more of the ttrpgs in my collection, and tonight I just finished running the first session of @anim-ttrpgs 's Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy.

Now, looking at this book (October public beta for most I bet) it looks intimidating. 600+ pages with a lot of rules.

I read through it in chunks during my work hours, small bits at a time with a few big reads on my computer. I read through certain sections again, trying to figure out how all the rules slot together in the abstract.

Then, a hilarious opportunity happened in their patreon server, people wanting to play Eureka, so I volunteered. I figured, hey why not. This could be a good time. I got an older converted module they run in their public book club and spent the time setting up and asking a handful of questions about certain bits.

Admittedly, I was a bit nervous to run it. It has been a while since I ran a game for people I didn't know well, and I felt a bit under prepared despite my preparations and note-taking.

Eased my worries a bit that a few of my players had run it before, and was getting really excited about all their characters as they were sending me their ideas and thoughts about them.

After tonight, I am shaking everyone by the shoulders to go play it, oh my god. Not only was it really easy to run, I had such a good time despite my stuttering start to the game. While I was a bit disorganized in the initial start, trying to get my legs under to set up the first scene, it was wonderful watching everyone start having their characters interact with the funeral and each other and it felt very natural. Setting up Roll20 so that everyone was using GM rolls, so only I saw all their results, but would talk about rolls required and would hurriedly whisper them their info or answers to their question if it was a bit more complicated than a yes/no. And if you're like "Hey, what about their rules about Splitting the party? That seems incredibly weird?" At first, yes, I thought that too initially, but knew what they were emulating, but it didn't quite click reading it. We played in Discord, so I set a time limit of about maximum 10 minutes each separate group just to try to give enough breathing room and still keep it snappy. I had players deafen themselves as needed and then would ping people if their turn was up. I see posts from players saying how wonderfully helpful this is to keep track of things and stay in the session, and how it leads to relationships developing wonderfully. As the Narrator, it was actually super helpful for me! Because it would help both with breaking up the scenes neatly, but also helped to get into the heads of the NPCs around the investigators in different scenes, especially when time had passed. One scene had some of the investigators running off on their own while the rest stayed behind at a funeral to talk to an NPC to try and figure out more things, and then later on two of the investigators accepted her invitation to the after funeral dinner and it was so helpful to be like "Okay, so she's at dinner with family and a friend of the deceased. How is her mood now and how willing is she to talk about certain things vs how willing she was while at the graveyard." So so so helpful in my opinion. Beautifully well done. The investigators ended up at a Denny's and it was such a fun scene because someone brought up the possibility of haunted houses and started a wild argument. Afterwards, we ended just after the investigators made plans on splitting up for next time. Wonderfully made game. Please go play or even just read it. I had such a grand old time and can't wait to see what happens to this plucky and oddball group of investigators

[aziraphales-library]

Lost Fic #309

1. Hi! Hope you can help me I'm looking for a fic that takes place after the nonapocalypse and Crowley is searching for a roll or something that was in the Alexandria library so he can gift it to Azira for their anniversary and he gets kinda desperate because he can't find it to the point he gets sick from exhaustion. Also there is a man that tricks him to search in his private collection of rolls he spents lots of time there and Azira knows Crowley is hiding something. I can't remember much other than that. Thanks in advance! - @karysisy-blog

2. Hello to all my lovely fic dealers!! I suddenly remembered this morning that I had been reading a fic a while back that I'm pretty sure was a WIP and I honestly can't remember if it finished and I forgot to bookmark it, or it never did...annnd I forgot to bookmark it 😅 It was an au what if? kind of fic, where Aziraphale's actions in Uz did cause him to fall, and Crowley trying desperately to keep him from having to go to hell about it, while also dealing with Az's emotional state after the obvious trauma. They ended up living together somewhere outside of Uz and the last thing I remember was them deciding to move on and maybe Az having to protect Crowley for once? Thanks for any help! - @ineffable-hyperfixation

3. Good morning! I keep a spreadsheet of all the fics I’ve loved and downloaded (title and description) and recently had a chunk of about 50 titles from my S2 list magically disappear. They luckily were all in alphabetical order. I found all but 3 and the GO fam helped me find 2 of those. There is still one I cannot figure out, and I didn’t give myself a great description to go by. Crowley is inspired to run after Aziraphale by a rom com. I know that the title starts with “The” and the 2nd word is alphabetically between Nightingale and Resurrectionists. Any ideas? Much appreciated. - @handyowlet

4. i read a multi-chapter fic once that was aziraphale and crowley sharing a bed throughout the ages. i remember it featured shakespeare times and the crucifixion. do you know which fic that is? - @lesbianlazyhouse

5. Hello, I'm here with a fic search I'm having a spot of trouble with. I believe it was a pre-season 2 fic but I really could be quite mistaken. It may have been one chapter in a drabble series or a -tober series, but this specific chapter/plot wasn't very long. Some of the archangels had Crowley kidnapped, and were trying to force Aziraphale to bring Crowley up to heaven, and to facilitate this, they had prepared a halo for him. Aziraphale instead put the halo on his own head (for some reason the term "jams" is stuck in *my* head), but the halo was made for Crowley and it overloaded (?) Aziraphale with too much power such that Aziraphale was on the brink of death. I'm afraid I can't remember the rest, but there was a happy ending. Thank you for running the blog! - @loracarol

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

[bittenfawn]

hiii i was wondering if you could write smth for seonghwa and hongjoong, i have like 3 ideas so u can choose like any idk #1 seonghwa does a voice only live for atiny and uses hongjoong for the asmr ykyk

#2 hongjoong is in his studio sitting in the chair and making music and like seonghwa j*rks him off while making him still make music #3 seonghwa is doing like a pottery wheel and hongjoong uses the clay to j*rk him off while seonghwa is still trying to do his pottery

Author’s note: hi, anon! personally, number two spoke to me the most. I also enjoyed every thing about the album so it also sparked some creativity for me! Stream Lemon drop 🍋

‼️: hand job | established relationship | praise & fluff | nsfw

Comeback season is like the Olympics; there is no room for imperfections or mistakes during this time. One mistake: the internet and your fans could tear you apart quicker than a lion killing a gazelle and feasting on it for dinner. So, being in an idol group, where you are the songwriter and produce a good chunk of the group songs, it is stressful to wrap your head around, especially if your last couple of comebacks have been stellar.

Hongjoong sighs, flipping through the files on his computer, dragging and dropping them into his production software. As he listens to the album's title, he can’t help but feel like something is missing. He tried everything, from recording bits and pieces of the song to having the boys re-record their parts repeatedly. unfortunately, that didn’t help either.

He didn’t know what made the song not suitable for his standards, but he knew it was stressing him out more than anything. This comeback season, he was very stressed out. He wanted to make sure everything was great for the fans. He usually stressed during the comeback season, but not like this. It was the point where he hadn’t had time to relax. Hongjoong sighed, rubbing his temples, slowly staring at his laptop screen as he started to dissociate the sound of someone banging on the door, startled him.

“Come in…”

Hongjoong huffed his heart still pounding from getting startled.

“Hey, I brought you dinner! It’s pasta with garlic bread and a side of Caprese salad. I figured you would be hungry because you haven’t left this room all day. The rest of the boys thought you died.”

Hongjoong could recognize that voice in his sleep, smooth, familiar, and laced with a softness that only he ever seemed to catch. Even in a chaotic crowd, his ears would find it like a melody on loop. It was Seonghwa. Of course it was.

They spent countless hours together in the studio, and fans often speculated they were more than just friends. Honestly, if that rumor turned out to be true, no one would be shocked because it was true. They did their best to keep the relationship under wraps, but secrecy becomes nearly impossible when you live under a constant spotlight.

Hongjoong turned around his letting out a soft huff with a small smile

“You didn’t have to—”

“I know, but you haven’t left this room all day. The boys and I were worried.”

Seonghwa interrupted gently, setting the takeout bag down on the desk without meeting his eyes.

” You’ve been stressed about this comeback ever since the company decided to discuss having one for the summer. I’ve been worried about you. You haven’t been sleeping. You haven’t been eating, just spending all your time in the studio...

Seongwha pauses sitting down next to Hongjoong

“I want you to know…. I think this song is perfect , the way it is, and you need to relax.”

The room went quiet again, save for the low hum of the monitors still running behind them. Seonghwa didn’t press. He just sat beside him, close but not touching, letting his presence speak in ways words never could.

“Eat,” Seonghwa said, softer now, placing the fork in his hand.

Hongjoong opened the takeout bag, pulled out the warm pasta, and slowly ate it. It tasted amazing. It was something he needed. But he wouldn’t tell. Seongwha is just trying to save a bit of his ego.

“You know,”

Seonghwa said quietly,

“You don’t always have to break yourself in half to prove something.”

Hongjoong paused mid-bite, staring at Seongwha like he had seen a ghost

“It’s not about proving anything”

“Isn’t it?”

“I just don’t want fans to be disappointed. The last couple of comebacks have been amazing. I’m always worried if this will be the song that makes everyone turn on us, or worse, we lose our momentum. I don’t want the fans to get a half assed song”

Hongjoong muttered.

Seonghwa tilted his head, his eyes narrowing, full of empathy. He knew exactly what this feeling was; he knew it all too well himself.

“I understand that you don’t want to disappoint them, but you can’t work on this alone because you’re stressing yourself out and only hurting yourself. You need to remember it’s OK to ask for help.”

Hongjoong froze

Neither of them moved for a moment. The sound of the studio apparatus dwindled into the distance. The world became smaller until only the two of them were hovering in that narrow, vanishing gap between self-control and recklessness.

Seonghwa stood, brushing imaginary lint off his jeans before walking around to Hongjoong’s side. He didn’t say anything; he deliberately reached out and brushed his fingers against Hongjoong’s neck. It was barely a touch, barely there.

Even at the slightest touch Hongjoong’s breath hitched anyway.

“I should go,” Seonghwa said, voice quiet again, but remained soft

Hongjoong felt his stomach flip he wanted the company.

He wanted the help…and Seongwha was the only one who could give that to him

“Stay.”

Seonghwa turned to look at the man

“Please,” Hongjoong added, slight desperation behind his eyes glistening against the studio lights.

Seongwha sat back in the swivel chair, staring at Hongjoong. The recording equipment hummed away as the room sat in silence before Hongjoong pulled up the album title track for the 100th time today.

As the title track repeatedly played, Hongjoong couldn’t find what was wrong. He was slowly getting stressed out once again. Before he could speak, Seongwha paused the song, looking at Hongjoong.

“I have an idea.” Seongwha says softly

Hongjoong looked intrigued his lips giving a natural pout.

“The reason you can’t figure out what’s wrong is that you’re stressed. I know a way to relieve that stress, and maybe then you will stop worrying about the song or find what you’re missing. So do you want my help?”

Seongwha purred making Hongjoong look at him cupping his hand around his cheek

Hongjoong knew exactly where this was going. He wouldn’t lie to himself; he hasn’t done anything sexual in months, nor has Seongwha. Usually, they are pretty active, but due to the preparation of this newest comeback and other events, they are not. They haven’t had time to take care of each other…

well, at least sexually

Hongjoong's face felt hot. Even though he’s been in the situation, it still flusters him quite a bit. It’s something about Seongwha’s dark but gentle look in his eyes that makes him burn internally with lust and nervousness.

Hongjoong gazes at Seongwha with the most lustful puppy eyes, leaning into Seongwha's palm.

“I do want your help…”

Hongjoong muttered under his breath, his pulse quickening as a rush of warmth spread through him. He could feel the tantalizing heat pooling low in his abdomen, a growing tension that made his boxers cling uncomfortably against his skin. The denim of his jeans felt constricting as his cock begged to be free

Seongwha leaned in, giving Hongjoong a soft kiss from his lips to his neck, slightly nipping at his neck, leaving red bite marks

Hongjoong let out a soft whimper, his eyes shutting slightly as he felt the softness of Seongwha’s lips on his sensitive neck.

“Oh baby I barely touched you..”

“I know you missed me but you got to be patient”

Seongwha whispers into Hongjoong’s ear as his hands roam over Hongjoong’s chest and stomach, sliding under his shirt to feel the warm skin beneath. His touch was electric, sending shivers down Hongjoong’s spine. He arched into it, a soft whimper escaping his lips again as Seonghwa’s fingers traced the curves of his abs

“You’re so beautiful baby. Just relax and focus on me”

Seonghwa murmured against his lips, his voice thick with desire and slight dominance.

Hongjoong’s cock twitched in his pants begging to be touched. He was desperate at this point; he had been so pent up that he did not realize it. Every touch felt like a lightning shot of pleasure, no matter how soft.

“Hwa…-“

“Don’t tease me.”

Hongjoong managed to croak out swallowing his whimpers as tears formed in his eyes out of desperation.

“Say Please.” Seongwha said whispering in his ear as he nips at it with his teeth as his hand traces Hongjoong’s clothed cock slowly

“P-Please….i need it..Hwa” Hongjoong pled starting at Seongwha his glossy desperate eyes stare at Seongwha

Seonghwa didn’t need to be told twice. His hands moved to Hongjoong’s waistband, quickly undoing the button and zipper before sliding his pants and boxers down in one swift motion. Hongjoong’s cock sprang free, hard and leaking, and Seonghwa wasted no time wrapping his hand around it.

“Shit,” Hongjoong gasped, his voice trembling

Seongwha stroked his cock it was slow and deliberate. drawing a desperate whine from Hongjoong’s lips. His hips jerked forward, seeking more friction as Seonghwa’s hand teased the tip of his cock. The sensation was overwhelming, and Hongjoong could feel his cock ache as Seongwha teases tip

Hongjoong gripped his arm rest as Seongwha’a hands slowly sped up around his cock. His eyes were glossy, and his skin warm; he couldn’t help but sink into the pleasure he was getting

With his free hand, Seongwha turned on the title track once again. Hongjoong snapped his head around, looking at Seongwha with confusion and lust.

“W-what are you doing hwa~”

Hongjoong’s voice trembles

“You want to make sure the song is up to your standards, correct? You still have work to do even though you’re preoccupied, but I know you are good at multitasking. I will keep the beat while you find the problem.”

Seongwha says a light smirk appears on his face as he starts the song from the beginning keeping the beat by stroking Hongjoong’s cock like it was his own personal metronome.

Hongjoong started playing with the melodies, initially pitching them down since they were originally slightly higher. He was trying his best to multitask, but he couldn’t help but feel his orgasm pooling in his stomach. 

The song makes it to the chorus when Seongwha starts to speed up. The beat had changed a little bit, and the sudden change of speed made pre-cum leak out of Hongjoong’s sensitive tip.

“Fuck,”

Hongjoong muttered, his hands trembling over against the keys as he tries to fix the background vocals

“Seonghwa, I—”

“You are doing so well, sweetheart~ just like that”

Seonghwa urged, his hand wrapping around the base of Hongjoong’s cock teasing the sensitive vein in the side of it while still keeping the tempo of the song

Hongjoong’s breathing grew ragged, his grip on the edge of the desk tightening as he tried to keep himself grounded. “Seonghwa, I’m gonna cum please~ please let me cum~,” he warned, his voice strained.

As the song slowly came to an end Seonghwa hummed in response, His pace quickened, his hand stroking faster, his mouth moving with a rhythm that was impossible to ignore.

Hongjoong’s head fell back, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he came, his cum spilling into Seonghwa’s hand

Seongwha lifts his hand licking Hongjoong’s cum of his fingers seductively before going down and licking the rest of his cock wiping his mouth afterwards

Hongjoong whimpered into his sweater as he tried to ride out his orgasm

After a few minutes Hongjoong calmed down and looked over at Seongwha with a flushed expression.

“I think you just ruined the track.”

Seongwha chuckled before shaking his head

“Well why don’t you listen to it…I doubt I did that because I noticed how managed to fix things while being pre occupied.”

Hongjoong played the track, and this time everything’s perfect. It was the perfect song to release. There was nothing else he had to fix. He was in complete utter shock. His eyes were wide, and he was looking at his boyfriend sitting next to him with a sleek smirk on his face. Hongjoong couldn’t say anything; he was grateful but didn’t know something like this was possible. It was some witchcraft in his mind.

“Anyway, my work here is done. You should finish cleaning yourself up. I’ll be in my dorm waiting for you. But the next time you need my help with a song, all you have to do is ask.”

Seongwha cooed, planting a small kiss on Hongjoong’s lips before chuckling slightly at his boyfriend’s stunned expression and leaving the studio entirely

Hongjoong quickly sent the song to the company for review, slamming his laptop shut, and he started packing up and returning to the dorm. He was at peace with the fact that the song was up to his standards.

All he needed to do now was…just to return the favor

[qualified-trash-panda]

The Sole Survivor

Day 2 of 212th Appreciation Week

today's prompt is 'Adoption/Accidental Acquisition'

this one was an absolute no brainer for me, it had to involve Cody he is such a father figure to my OC (in my head he adopted her the day he saw her ratty ass he just didn't know it) and no one can convince me he isn't buir material.

description: sent to search out any survivors following the fall of Syrac Base, Commander Cody finds a tragedy in its wake.

length: 3k

warnings: mentions of gunshots, wounds, blood etc

“This is it.” Cody determined, switching off the scan and tucking the holodevice in a pouch at his belt, returning both hands to his blaster carbine.  “The fire never spread as far as command but scans are showing heat signatures.”

“Well then…” General Kenobi gestured for them to back up in the little room the tunnel allowed, the shuffle of boots kicking up tiny whisps of dust.

Cody ensured a line of troopers kept to the General’s back, blasters ready, as the Jedi extended his hands towards the blockage.  The arch of the tunnel had collapsed around the blast doors, blocking the control panel, and whilst the gunships worked to put out the worst parts of the fire and dislodge larger chunks of crumbled rock so they could salvage what little remained, they couldn’t fit the heavier machinery down the spiralling tunnels of the central base. 

The rocks shifted, a crumble of dust spilling from above, as General Kenobi concentrated.  Initial scans showed no life signs from above.  The base lay in complete ruin, fire ravaging what little remained, distorting any thermal scans they conducted, but the trooper they rescued insisted there’d be someone left alive.  Something in his voice convinced the General even when Cody began to doubt and he’d spent hours clearing through tunnel after tunnel, his exhaustion showing in tired lines on his bearded face, dark shadows popping out beneath his eyes and Cody knew if he pushed any harder he’d expend what little energy he had left.  If he didn’t stop soon, Cody would start to insist.  No one could survive this.

Chunks of rock scraped across the rugged, scorched ground as the General cleared the blast doors, the metal screeching and puffing a cloud of dust that distorted his vision, his visor applicator working double time to clear the scene ahead but it lay so thick in the air it did little good. 

Blasters clicked as his troopers advanced cautiously, approaching the darkness inside as if it were a rabid animal, a scattering of blinking lights twitching like beady eyes watching and Cody heard another pillar of dust pour from somewhere inside to scatter across the rocky ground but otherwise not a single sound could be heard.

Except… Cody frowned beneath his helmet, trying to listen harder, and picked out the shaky hitch of heavy breathing.  The pulse of a weak heartbeat picked up on his HUD. With a wave of his hand, Kenobi cleared the lingering dust and one by one flashlights switched on, illuminating the shadows within.

A single form stood out in the cascading light, torches focusing on the figure, hands tightening around blasters as they flashed across a pointed weapon.  “Wait.” General Kenobi whispered, grasping the nose of Cody’s blaster as he stepped past and the troopers stilled, his auburn head, covered in dust, nodded to the figure.  “Look closer.”

Cody did.  His gaze trailed up, picking out the discoloured boots, the frayed armour, the blaster pistol locked in their tight grip and the savage curl of their lip. 

No.  He sucked in a breath as he saw it and Kenobi released his weapon, the blaster falling to his side.  Not discoloured, just dusty.  The armour up their legs, Cody wore the exact same kind, but they were scratched, stained, barely recognizable in the din, the breastplate, the arm plating both gone.

“Lower your weapons.” Cody murmured and the troopers obliged, stepping back as Cody stepped forward. 

The strange clone tensed as he did, the single DC-17 in their hand shaking, trained on him, chest rising and falling in rapid shakes. 

“Easy, soldier.” Cody calmed, bending to settle his own blaster on the ground and lifted the helmet from his head, the dust immediately catching in his nose, the thick air pressing in on him but he left it beside the blaster, straightening.

He stayed put, subtly gesturing with one hand and his troopers tentatively backed up until they were back in the tunnel, even the General retreated, lingering only in the doorway, watching intently for sudden movements that might threaten his Commander.

“What’s your designation?” Cody asked, his voice low and steady, tilting his body minutely to get a better look at their features behind the blaster. 

Cody refrained from sucking in another breath.  Not a regular clone.  He gave her another look, keeping his features open, easy, as he scrutinized her.  No upper armour, her blacks shredded around the shoulders, her sides, revealing scrapes and bruises decorating tanned skin and a long line of red trickled down the side of her head from a deep gash that needed treating soon, her curled lip swollen, broken and she had a nasty black eye on top of it all, a tumble of knotted black hair half covering a scattering of scrapes on her cheek.

Another clone lay beneath her, her feet planted solidly over him, and Cody thought he might need help, his lips parting to offer it until his gaze found the clones unseeing eyes, the hole in his chest, and quickly shut them.  What the kriff had she gone through not to recognize her own men? For someone to survive carnage like this…

“My name is Cody, Commander of the 212th.” He gestured behind towards the Jedi and she tensed again, a rakish sob escaping the snarl.  “This is General Obi-Wan Kenobi, we’re here to extract you and the survivors.”

“There are no survivors.” It’s the first words she’d spoken and they came out torn and rattled. Clenching around Cody's heart.

Cody risked a glance over his shoulder at the General, finding the same flash of darkness cross his gaze that threatened to tug down Cody’s brows and the survivor’s arms trembled.

“What happened here, trooper?” General Kenobi asked calmly.

No. Cody knew she wouldn’t answer questions like that in this state, her jaw clenching, and the tremble in her arms grew, spreading to her shoulders.  How long had she been standing here?

“Easy, trooper.” Cody reached out towards her with a gentle hand, easing forwards.  “The fight is over.” He assured her, “You did your duty.”

A single crease smoothed her features, the white of her knuckles grasping the blaster relaxing and Cody took another step closer, keeping his voice as soft as he could.  “Look at me, trooper, I’m a clone just like you.” He placed a hand on his breastplate, drawing her frightened hazel gaze to him and not the troopers, not the General.  Just him.  “I’m not going to hurt you, vod’ika.”

Her features released the snarl and she stared at him with such fear it resonated deep in his stomach, stirring a crest of pain in his own heart, and he carefully settled his fingers atop hers on the blaster. 

“I’ve got you now.” He promised, inching closer, nudging the blaster down slowly.  “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

Her grip on the blaster loosened, Cody’s tightening, and he eased it from her fingers, placing tentative fingers on her tightly wound shoulders to distract her.  A pained, shaky breath slipped from her lips at the touch, draining whatever fight she had left in her and Cody saw the strength vanish from her gaze, the hazel brimming with pure, unadulterated fear now. 

Cody took the blaster and gestured with it to another trooper, feet shuffling in the dust to come and grab it whilst the Commander still clung to the trembling trooper. 

“That’s it.” Cody calmed and drew her from the body she stood over, keeping her concentration focused on him as the rest of his troopers slowly ventured into the command centre to retrieve what information they could. 

He trusted a brother to retrieve his helmet, his blaster, and instead focused on getting the trooper out of there and into a medic’s capable hands.  The General stuck close behind as they traversed the narrow tunnel, soon returning to the collapsed section and inching through one at a time, Cody in front to coax the survivor through and Kenobi behind with a gently raised hand.  She looked about ready to collapse, hair knotted at every angle, the blood spilling down the side of her face and sunken sockets distorting the nasty bruise around her eye, a paleness to her supposedly tanned skin.

“Cody.” Kenobi whispered almost imperceptibly as they came out the other side, his usually piercing gaze shadowed and nodding to the survivors back.

He stole a glance as his hands found her shoulders, easing her onwards again, and eyes widened when he spotted what the General saw. 

A dozen nasty, untended and angry red gashes littered her back, tearing up her blacks, some of them older, some oozing a trickle of blood down the tanned skin, and parts of her shirt looked darker than others in the bright floodlights.

“You actually found one?” The first medic he found gawked, mouth snapping shut when Cody hissed out a low shush, snapping the troopers name, the three of them appearing in the meagre staging area they scraped out in the rubble.

He settled the survivor atop a jagged chunk of rock as gently as he could, Chance’s steady hands helping, and he unhooked the pack from his shoulders, setting it beside him and flipped it open.  Then he saw her back

“She’s in bad shape.” Cody knelt beside her, the brash floodlights better illuminating the hundreds of scrapes covering her body and Cody nodded the medic to the gashes lining her back.

“I don’t dare touch those without a sterile environment.” Chance assessed, unable to keep the anger clouding his gaze.  “We need to get her aboard the Negotiator.”

“Do it.” Cody instructed, more forcefully than he intended, and straightened to help lift her to her feet.

“Commander.” A blunt voice stopped him, the survivor clutched between him and Chance, waiting as Cody twisted to find Boil standing rigidly.  “There’s something you should see.”

A single glance at her frightened gaze, the way her eyes followed him, told him to stay and Chance lingered, waiting for his decision.  “Gearshift!” Cody called out and a stiff trooper rushed to him, thankfully returning his helmet.  The trooper took over for him and they set her back on the rock.  “I won’t be long.”

“Yes, sir.” Gearshift responded, standing close by her side without needing to be asked.

Cody followed Boil through the little space they’d cleared in the base, forced to climb over a jagged chunk of rock embedded in the stairwell just to reach what should be the sprawling central courtyard.  Bits of machinery, shards of crushed speeder bikes and heavy artillery littered the ground, Cody spotted a blaster here and there and a worrying smell lingered in the thick air.  Cody settled his helmet back on, his filters blocking it out.  He’d been on Jabiim during the massacre, he knew what that smell meant, and his stomach dropped. 

The gunships hadn’t cleared much of the courtyard, but enough to know.  As they’d been working towards the command, towards the last heat signature worth exploring, his troopers had been down here pulling body after body from the wreck.  A line of them lay flat on the outskirts, dried blood staining misshapen cracks in their armour from being buried beneath the rubble, but they all carried one distinctive mark and Cody closed his eyes. 

A single blaster shot to the head.  Execution style. 

“Maker, what happened here?” Cody whispered under his breath, unconsciously counting the bodies they pulled out from the little space cleared and doing the math in his head, swallowing once he came to an answer and his jaw clenched.

“We found a Trandoshan amongst the rubble.” Boil reported and Cody followed his pointed finger to the limp reptile in a shadowed corner.

A Trandoshan? Cody frowned beneath the helmet, the addition only adding to the confusion in his mind.  “Tell the boys to find out what they can from the command centre.” Cody instructed, having left a squad of troopers up there.  “And Boil,” Cody grasped the trooper’s arm as he twisted.  “Make sure the data is transferred to my channels alone.”

Cody knew he’d find nothing good there, releasing Boil, and didn’t need the answers splayed across the holonet for all the GAR to see.  What they found already was bad enough. 

“I shall have to inform the Council we’ve lost Syrac.” General Kenobi said gravely, and Cody twisted, he hadn’t notice the General follow him down. Missing his brown robe.

“I thought the Separatists were routed from the system?” They couldn’t find a single trace of the droid army other than the occasional metal carcass.

“Whilst that is true, I would hardly call this a victory.” Kenobi’s gaze darkened, his usually piercing eyes hooded and fixed on the fallen.  “Tell the men to stop their search.”

Cody’s gut clenched, glancing back at the troopers, a pair of them pulling another body from the wreckage, the implication clear.  They’d find nothing more here.  He knew better than to argue with a Jedi’s instincts but he still wanted to, a needle of hope worming into his heart after finding her. 

“We have orders to reinforce General Skywalker on Christophsis.” General Kenobi added, sensing his Commanders hesitation.  “We cannot delay any longer.”

“Understood, sir.” Cody shifted his feet, standing rigidly to attention, and began relaying orders to the men through his comms. 

They returned to the staging area as the ships clearing the rubble safely discarded their pieces, pulling back, the equipment packed up, bathing the mystery in darkness once again, and a record made of the fallen brothers they did find, including the one in command.  Cody counted a secret tally in his mind for every trooper left unfound, buried beneath the rubble, consumed by the fire or worse.  An entire battalion’s worth wiped out and he stepped aboard a gunship with the sole survivor. 

One of the deadliest battlegrounds of the war so far came to an end after weeks of struggle and he didn’t even know how.  Just a lone survivor left to tell the story, if she even could. 

“Sir?” A light voice perked beside him as the blast doors locked shut, the gunship entering the upper atmosphere and rocked from the turbulence. 

“What is it, Waxer?”

“A female clone?”

His head tilted, regarding the clone through his helmet, studying the long stripe of orange painted down the centre, imagining the confusion crossing his square features underneath.

“I know.” Another question to add to his growing pile.

Cody glanced back at the trooper, her hazel eyes hollowing, Kenobi's dusty brown robe settled around her shoulders, and sympathy spiked in his chest.  He knew that look all too well, the thoughts that must be racing behind her eyes.

The gunship landed smoothly in the hangar and Cody guided the survivor down, her feet moving but his hand hovered around her, eyes watching just as carefully as Chance’s and the medic kept muttering to himself that she should be on a stretcher.

A shout echoed over to them across the hangar and another shiny came stumbling over on a crutch, his armour coated in the same dust as the survivors, and Cody recognized him.  The trooper they picked up on the ridge, the one who sent the transmission.  Ricochet?

“You’re alive.” He shook out his relief, dropping his crutch, the medic trailing after him muttering some apology about how he refused help until he knew his squad was safe.  “I saw the base go up, I saw it all, and I didn’t believe…” He grasped her shoulders, shaking her, and Cody wanted to gently push him away, worried she’d crumble under his grip.  “Where is everyone?”

Ricochet peered deep into her face, even as her head dipped down to the floor, chin almost to her chest to avoid looking at him and the confusion spilled into his open features. 

“Ninety-Four?” Ricochet pressed, his voice shaking now.  “Ninety-Four, where are they?” He shook her again, lightly, the reaction of a man who slowly began to realize, and it was only when he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him that Cody stepped in.  “Where are they?!”

“That’s enough, trooper.” Cody insisted gently, with an edge of authority, and settled a hand on Ricochet’s arm.

“Not until she answers me.” Ricochet snapped but his hand dropped from her chin, taking her shoulder rougher than before.

“I think you know.” Cody tightened his grip on Ricochet. A silent warning.

The fragile control in Ricochet’s features snapped and his arms fell from Ninety-Four’s shoulders, his gaze darkening and his lip curled. 

“They’re all dead.” He glowered and Cody tensed at the rage in his voice.  “Our entire squad, they’re dead.” His fingers formed fists at his side.  “Because of you.”

Cody glowered at the accusation, about to let his authority as Commander outweigh the kindness in his voice when Gearshift stepped up, looming over Ricochet. His extra bulk outweighing the fact they were the same height.

“Jax was right about you.” Ricochet spat, undeterred by the silent threat growing in Gearshift’s gaze, the trickle of 212th who overheard wordlessly coming to stand behind her.  “You’re just a mistake, and you got them killed.”

“Watch your tone, brother.” Someone spat and Cody picked out the curving branches atop Cale’s helmet, his fists knotted at his side.

Only then did Ricochet spot them, the growing tide mounting behind Ninety-Four, and he shot her one last scathing look before storming off, wobbling on his injured leg and his medic retrieved the crutch, forcing it into his hands, making him walk with just the stick for support.

“Whatever happened down there is not your fault.” Cody told her quietly, assertively, stepping around to face her, watching the General retreat towards the bridge when he should be getting rest himself.  “I do not want you blaming yourself for this, that is an order, Ninety-Four.”

“Sennari.”

Cody’s gaze snapped to her, thinking he’d misheard, but Chance looked more shocked than he did, her voice spilling out strong and chillingly confident.  

“What was that, trooper?”

She repeated it again, somehow stronger, and a deathly familiar look haunted her hollow hazel eyes as she lifted them. 

“My name is Sennari.”

Sennari. Cody mulled over the word, sharing a look with Chance and the medic mouthed a frowning question. As in the poison? Cody took in the shaking clench of her dirty fist, the skin torn, nails hoarding dirt, and the feral look in her eye. He remembered the Trandoshan, his sickly greying skin. Exactly like the poison.

The Commander didn't even need to think twice. "Alright, Sennari." He clenched his hands behind his backs, her searching eyes finding his through his helmet, locking in his gaze.

"Welcome to the 212th Attack Battalion."

vod'ika = little sibling (in this context little brother) dividers by @saradika For @212thappreciation Week Day 2 Prompt: Adoption/Accidental Acquisition

[fruitlicense]

before Arcane S2 I always wondered why Vi and Powder went with Vander so easily after their parents died and why Powder ran to Silco for comfort after the warehouse fire.

Vander and Silco knew Felicia and Connol. hell, Vander named Vi! in all likelihood, Vander and Silco were like uncles to Vi and Powder in their early childhood, because they were close friends with their parents and worked the same profession. it wouldn’t surprise me at all if the four adults staggered their shifts in the mines to make sure someone was there to watch the girls at any given time. also, I don’t think Vander and Silco had their falling-out until soon before or during the rebellion that killed Felicia and Connol. in fact, I would hazard a guess that the reason Vander is wandering around post-battle pummeling the remaining Enforcers and looking for the dead is because he missed a good chunk of the fight while he was down in the river trying to strangle Silco.

the key piece of information here is that Vander and Silco were still friends and probably still in Vi and Powder’s lives right up until it all went wrong. when Vander took Vi and Powder in, he wasn’t adopting two kids he’d found randomly out of some sense of guilt or pity - those were his best friends’ kids. they approached him as a safe person even after seeing him beat some random guy because they knew him. when Powder saw Silco after Vander’s death and launched herself at him for a hug, she didn’t do that because he was the closest nearby person. she remembered him, even after however many years spent with Vander instead of her parents. his hesitation before he hugged her back was likely due to the time that had passed and his tension with Vander, not a lack of recognition.

TLDR: Vi and Powder don’t approach Vander and Silco as father figures because they’re the closest people at the times they need support, but because Vander and Silco were their parents’ best friends and they knew them already from childhood.

[irrealisms]

whenever i think too hard about how differently i got treated as a depressed/anxious patient vs a psychotic patient i'm kind of bowled over by it. i don't really like talking abt it, it feels weird for a Few reasons not least of which is "it kind of feels like humblebragging abt being one of the Good Psychotics" but i'm going to talk about it bc i feel like it's .... an important thing that ppl don't. realize

when my primary problem was ocd i saw multiple therapists and talked about being terrified i would hurt people (details of intrusive thoughts redacted). i was told, categorically, by all of them, that this was false & that i was a good person who just had ocd. for years, i saw therapists for primarily anxiety/depression/eating disorder reasons. during this time, i had a few meltdowns in which i physically hurt others; one was in response to being restrained but most were not justified at all and were just an expression of emotion. i'm not going to pretend that all the therapists i saw were all great bc they absolutely were not! i had transphobic therapists i had therapists who violated or removed my privacy i had therapists who i hid the extent of my suicidality from for fear of institutionalization or similar i was very aware that if i did not agree to eat i would eventually be forcefed etc etc. i was still experiencing psychiatric ableism. but there was never serious concern from them that i should be considered a risk to others.

when my primary problem was psychosis symptoms (i have issues with the label but it's the one they used), i was rejected by multiple therapists who thought i wasn't a good fit. the ones i did see spent a solid chunk of time in every session trying to figure out if i was violent or dangerous to others. (for the record: i have had psychotic symptoms for the past almost-decade now and have never hurt people about them; the people close to me can confirm that i handle situations like "my closest friend has been replaced with an evil imposter" or "all my friends are conspiring against me" or similar with grace and aplomb and without any violence.) i had a psychiatrist (who knew that i had negative reactions to antipsychotics) who suggested antipsychotics i could take "for anxiety", without telling me they were antipsychotics and who noted psychotic symptoms in my chart while only telling me that she was treating me for anxiety. when i told one of my therapists who i was seeing for psychosis reasons that i had been in IOP for harm OCD a year before, and that i had harm OCD with intrusive thoughts, she took this as meaning that the voices told me to hurt people, and i had to spend the rest of the session trying to reassure her that i wasn't going to. when i told the therapist after that the same thing, i was told that i could either report myself to a local mental hospital as a danger to others voluntarily or that she would call the cops. i went; my parents and i begged them to reconsider the therapist's judgement, so they evaluated me there over a zoom call. the person over the zoom call agreed that i was a danger to others. the paperwork from them doesn't even mention the intrusive thoughts; it just notes that i have paranoia, delusions, hallucinations. that's enough, for me to be institutionalized as a danger to others. all the evidence they need. and so despite it being sparked by me having intrusive thoughts, i wasn't put on OCD meds--they took me off my OCD meds!--i was put on antipsychotics.

and this is where i can feel weird talking about this, right, bc psychosis does make some people violent, and throwing them under the bus or denying their existence bc i'm ~one of the good ones~ is the last thing i want to do. but there is an automatic, default assumption, when you are psychotic, that you are violent. whether or not you are. no matter what you do. and as someone with harm ocd it's fucked me up & there's the thing where ppl do not hesitate in doing violence to me about those assumptions which has also fucked me up. my impression is that addicts, people diagnosed with personality disorders, and a few other diagnoses can get hit by similar treatment (differently flavored) from the psychiatric system. as soon as you're in a certain box in their mind nothing else matters. you're just ... dangerous. violent. unpredictable.

i don't know where i'm going with this. i might make another post in a bit about a different psychiatry thing. i just--i think people don't realize what it's like, how bad it is, how qualitatively it's a different sort of ableism than disorders where you're seen as primarily dangerous to yourself. and also it's late at night and i'm unhappy.

[sunshine-zenith]

Okay, so I have been reading your New Wish posts and I have some theories I'm gonna share with you.

I believe that time passes differently in Fairy World, which could help explain Wanda and Cosmo going on vacay for 10,000 years. Plus it would take Peri 1,000 years to finish Fairy School and become a Godparent.

The reason why Peri was assigned to such a hard kid is because of the whole 'family legacy' thing. Not only was he born to two fairy actively working with a kid and grew up in that environment but he is also very powerful. So I think Jorgen (or who ever made the assignment) figured he could handle it.

I think that retirement means something different in Fairy World. I think it's the equivalent to switching jobs. Like (for example), a fairy retires from working for the Tooth Fairy, goes on vacation for a few thousand years, then starts Fairy School to become a Godparent.

It's also possible that it was decided at some point that fairies could have kids again. Likely when older fairies started retiring from their jobs (and not just Godparenting) and there is a worker shortage.

Ooo I like these, especially the second one — I don’t remember who but someone made a Gifted Kid Burnout(tm) joke on one of my posts about Peri, and that combined with your theory explains so much — Peri was born to a family of good (if unconventional) fairy godparents, raised pretty much as an unofficial FGP, and a lot of stuff just came naturally to him. It’s basically the magical foster parent equivalent of being born to a pare of amazing lawyer/doctors/etc, and never having to learn proper study skills due to being naturally gifted socially and in school, only to be smacked in the face with reality when you’re given a caseload way above your skill set right off the bat and you also don’t have the abilities to adapt because you never had to develop them

Retirement not being permanent for fairies also makes sense — they’re basically immortal, let’s be real they’d probably get bored out of their minds if they didn’t have some kind of task to get up to

Also, it would make sense that the ban on fairy children would be lifted eventually, if only for the practical reason on mitigating a worker’s shortage (lowkey makes Fairy World a little dystopian, but it’s always had semi-dystopian vibes anyway lmao). Plus, Peri proved fairy children aren’t that dangerous (and a lot of the dangerous things that can be pinned on him are mostly the result of like. People trying to kidnap him. Or being unsupervised. Can’t really blame him for accidentally setting off a volcano in self defense or crashing a car because his babysitter lost track of him), so there’s no legitimate reason for the ban to remain. Still, given that Peri was basically a societal practice baby for all of Fairy World after so long without children being born, it was probably a while before a new generation of fairies came to be. Peri probably still spent a good chunk of his developmental years alone

[jessconsumesmedia]

Ghosts 4x10 The Not-So-Silent Partner

I thought that I might put together a well-organized piece of writing for this episode, but who knows how that is actually going to work out. I LOVED this episode and I have so many thoughts (many of which I am thinking about giving their own posts) So buckle in and enjoy my wild ranting about fictional characters.

Freaky Spoilers below the belt (they are so not i promise i just think im funny)

Overall thoughts: This episode was Really strong. I loved both of the main plots as well as the little background moments. The stories this season are building up gorgeously and I can't wait to get more payoffs as the season progresses. Pretty much as always I am just going to break up A and B stories and then add any other random bit at the end! (buckle up or leave this is going to be a long ride)

Issac - The not-so-silent partner

I love Issac and his bitchy little attitude; it brings us back to the fact that almost always his bitchyness* is just who he is. He is at heart a bitchy man who is realllllly trying (at least for him he is really trying) but he is also a deeply scorned man. By love, by society, by Hamilton, and even by his friends. The restaurant is his way of being seen, it is his way of being something in an afterlife where he feels like nothing sometimes. He of course is not going about it the right way but this guy has spent his entire life and afterlife being one upped often by people who don't even care about his existence. His hand in the restaurant is important to him. That being said I believe it was a really good decision to have him give up his partner position. He not only realized that he has stakes with his friends but it also is baseline Jay's restaurant.

Jay deserves to have the creative decisions plus he deserves a billion pats on the back for dealing with their eight idiot children/every other ghost on the property at some point. At the beginning of this episode I figured there might be a lead up to Mark finding out about the ghosts but I was surprised with the way they yes/anded their way out of that situation. But I realized it doesn't make a ton of sense for a network tv show to somewhat reveal two big bits (and subsequently lose a layer of jokes even if there are new joke possibilities) Mark finding out that the ghosts exist and Sam can see them takes away the Mark thinks Sam is a weirdo vibe and that is objectively a very silly dynamic. Also **Sam is a weirdo but mostly because of her small/odd family dynamic and also a little bit because of the ghosts. Poor Mark, bro is so gullible.

**"I think we sometimes forget that Samantha once hit her head really hard." definitely not the reason she is desperate for family but it is a good excuse actually for a lot of the situations she finds herself in. But also I wonder if she does have lasting effects, like I would assume considering she was literally dead for three minutes.

*"Issac complain about monarchy, must be day ending in y" oh Thor you are a comedic genius and you are very correct.

Hopefully I got everything I wanted to put in that lol.

IRISH HETTY

Holy shit. I knew, of course I knew. But having confirmation of something that hits you straight in the face is just really nice. This reveal is perfection. Poor Hetty believing whole heartedly that she is somehow British royalty and then she gets hit with one of the things she hates most in life. Love it. This managed to coincide with my English literature class going over a bit of Irish history so I was having a grand time sticking the two together into one big nerd pb&j. Plus I know generally that I have a good chunk of Irish somewhere in my history lol.

The actual implications of Hetty knowing she is Irish now are insane. Much like her encounter with the washing machine, dalliances with Trevor, and brief run ins with feminism, her finding out about her Irish ancestry is just another wall she is breaking. Almost like a another layer that is keeping her from "the real world." She is so stuck in her very stuffy uptight ways but these giant -for her- moments keep happening. They keep adding cracks and craters to the layers of her being. Much like Issac they don't change her fundamental elements so she is still the sam character/person but she has that growth we long to see. Mostly I love to see her views get challenged and she has to deal with the aftermath of those challenges.

Thor's part in all of this is also really interesting. We know he knows things about probably all of the ghosts but he has managed to keep these secrets for an incredibly long time. Thor is just a big guy who loves and cares about his friends. There is also another layer of Hetty being one of, if not, the only ghost who Grew up at Woodstone. The ghosts before her had an attachment to her because they were there for her whole depressing backstory TM. They know what all she went through (some stuff they probably have never said) But Thor specifically fell into some sort of protective figure for her (even if she didn't consider him as that protector for a long time after her death) Whether Sass and Issac just chose not too be as involved or even if they were Thor was there and chose to be there. He knew being Irish would be a huge crack in her worldview so he kept it to himself all to protect her. And let me tell you that made me cry. The Thor and Hetty relationship is one of my favorites not only because of the comedic aspects but also just the sheer care he has for her. She can't do much besides accept her friend and even affirm that friendship. (HETTY LOVE GORDON) Like guys she doesn't even say his pelts are gross and nasty it is such a huge moment for the both of them. They have to feel real life feelings which is a problem for them both, and as they tap into those feeling they are able to settle each other.

Trevor's part in this is smaller but it is still Very much there. He is quick to affirm that he loves St. Patrick's day. Quick to let her believe that her ***"Flaming red hair and alabaster skin" aren't particularly Irish traits. He stays by her side nearly all episode. Yet he was delighted to find out that she was in fact Irish, but he didn't make fun of her? Their whole relationship is based off of their conflict wouldn't he as the little shit that he is want to crowd her with snide witticisms? No he wouldn't. Their relationship genuinely makes me feel insane sometimes because we are clearly moving towards some sort of impasse. Whether its that we find out they have been getting closer but are just friends still or if they have been secretly hooking up off camera or any number of possibilities. There are choices being made that bring them together. Trevor likes Hetty's qualities simply put and Hetty apparently Loves Colin Ferrell who in many ways favors the pantless crusader. (He also uses that tone of voice that it seems like he literally saves for Hetty) I just cant wait to see more of their "complicated and diabolical" relationship.

***Now Trevor explain why you said that with a sarcastic air but at the same time plausible enough that Hetty would probably take it at face value. Plus why was he so poetic in his descriptions???

I believe that I have written what I can about Hetty but also I probably could think of other things lol.

Miscellaneous

Pete is such a good teacher. I love that he shows Hetty a bunch of Irish things.

"This man has plans for someone and I for one respect it" How even would he execute that plan lol?

If they wanted to take Issacs money I really think all they'd have to do is ask Trevor. He wants to be Mom and Dad's favorite.

Doctor Hoo

"No, baby, that was the scam."

Kelsey is so real for the gift card and seven dollars lol. (She is hilarious and a really good person to bring back)

Gaslight that poor man

Also Hetty looking too Trevor to calm her fears like she could have asked anyone in that room and she chose him.

Rebecca Wisocky the woman that you are. The line read on that bit about Whiskey is Hilarious.

I love Pete and his love of the craft. The improv your way out really worked I am curious if it could come up again somehow with Mahesh and Mark.

I love Jay that is the tweet hit send

"Except for Danes who brains are rumored to be mostly cabbage" He just can't get past his own prejudices.

That is the end of my very long rant sesh! Thanks for sticking around

He is down bad

I just like how for most of the scene she can’t look him in the eyes :((((

-Jess🫡