#sweet asks for septic

[septicbro1005]

hii evann

heyyyyy :]

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - In a Jam - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

When the bond goes from sweet to septic...

tw: possessive behavior, control issues, parental abuse.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

"Wow," Jinx drawled, "you really got yourself into a jam, Silly. Question is: is it strawberry with extra goop, or raspberry with extra seeds? Both'll give ya the squirts."

"Trust you to think with your bowels, Jinx."

Silco stood by the bay window, backlit by the smoldering neon cityscape. He wore his grimmest expression: all crags and canyons, and a furrowed brow so deeply grooved it'd be fit to sow seeds. It was the forbidding shell he retreated into whenever the stress levels skyrocketed and a bloodbath loomed on the horizon. 

Jinx had seen the look, more and more, as her body healed and the city fell to ruin. Conversely, she found it reassuring.  Silco was no Prince Valiant, even at his most mellow. And he needed to project menace to the masses, so they wouldn't drag his guts out through his nostrils. But the menace was by no means skin deep.  It went down to his marrow: that fiendish focus that kept him honed utterly on his target.

And when you knew him the way Jinx knew him, you knew he'd never miss.

The cicatrix between her ribs twinged.

It was a reminder: Silco had split her open to carve a path of repossession through her ribcage. He'd do it again without a second thought. He'd do whatever it took to put her back together again, like the rest of Zaun. 

And his hands were still red and dripping.

It should've unsettled Jinx. But she couldn't dredge the feelings up. They were buried too deep: the kind of place you didn't go digging unless you wanted the ground to split beneath you, and send you plunging straight to hell.

So she shrugged.

"C'mon, Silly! It's just a joke."

She flopped back into bed. Her muscles, like overcooked noodles, couldn't endure more than the day's physical therapy before they sang the body brownout. She was bored of her bedroom; bored of being weak; and so terribly bored of being bored that she'd rather take a chance on an Enforcer's bayonet, than sit out the fray for a moment longer.

Silco, reading her mind, turned to face her.

"You will not set foot out there," he said. "You will stay here. Is that understood?"

"But—"

"Is that understood?"

A direct command.

Jinx hated direct commands. They were an insult to her intellect. She wasn't a diligent little droid, like Sevika. She was Jinx, dammit! Jinx did as she damn well pleased. It wasn't her style to stay cooped up in the suite, stewing, when the rest of her world was aflame. It especially wasn't her style to obey, if Silco took a tone with her. It meant he was trying to tell her something that his ego couldn't spit out on its own.

Him and his ego. Jinx could practically see the whole of Zaun balanced precariously on its lofty peak.

But she knew him well enough to know what sat underneath: a plea.

Jinx sighed, and propped herself up against the pillows.

"I can help," she argued. "If I keep to the shadows, nobody'll notice—"

"It's a risk I won't take."

"C'mon, Silly! The city needs to see me! I'm the Postergirl of the Revolution. I'm the face of your cause. I'm—"

"Not ready."

A chill descended. Deja vu, like gooseflesh, pricked down her spine. She remembered Vi saying that, the night she left the first time. The night that started it all, so Vi left-right-left every night thereafter.

A reminder that Jinx would never be ready; she was the unfinished girl. The screw-up; the screw-loose. And not even death could complete her. All it did was spit her out, unfinished as ever.

Imperfect.

The cicatrix twinged, again, like an invisible fishhook tugging on her rib.

"Is it—because of what I did?" Jinx asked. "Because I messed up? Are you punishing me?"

The room's emotional acoustic was a minefield of echoes. Silco, usually quicksilver, seemed frozen in place.

"Jinx—"

"Because—if you are,  you should just say it! I'll take my lumps like a grownup. Just—please!—don't lock me up. I know—the mess we're in is my fault. I know me and Vik fu—fudged things up. But he's out there doing his part to set it right! Why not me? I can help too. You just have to let me try!"

She didn't want to beg.  Begging made you small. Like a little girl needing attention. Jinx was neither of those things. Need was Vi's MO. The need to save everyone, the need to fight unbeatable odds and chase unwinnable dreams.

The need to run and run and never, ever stop running.

Silco stayed.

His silhouette shifted in the gloom. One of the overhead lamps flickered. It'd been doing that for days: the city grid was on the fritz. The faulty filament flared, then faded. The room's shadows, so sharp, receded like fangs back into the gums.

In their place, Silco's real expression emerged. The cragged exterior had sloughed away, leaving something soft and sad behind.

"Oh, child," he murmured. "You don't understand."

He took the armchair at her bedside. Didn't touch her, but leaned in, the better for her to see him, if her eyes weren't so damn blurry.

"I have not locked you up," he said. "But I need you out of harm's way. For good reason, Jinx. You were not at death's door. You were six feet under it, and heading straight to hell. Viktor's intervention saved you, yes. But to what end? To put you in the crosshairs of the bastards who'd see you dead?"

 Jinx knuckled her eyes with a fist. The blur became a burn.

"It's not so simple," she insisted, because there was a point to be made here, if only she could articulate it. "If you're gonna stand against those baddies, you'll need my help! They'll keep coming, and they don't stop coming, and—well. You know the song."

Silco smiled grimly.

"I do, Jinx. But if you want me to play to the chorus, I'm afraid you've picked the wrong partner."

"I thought that's what we were," she sniffled. "Partners."

He shook his head.

"A partnership implies equals. You're not my equal, Jinx. You're my better. You always have been. But if I am to be anything of value in return—then you have to let me do what's best. You have to trust me."

The fishhook between her ribs twisted.

Jinx's throat was tight, eyes wet.

"Okay," she said, very quietly. "Okay."

 He didn't relax. But the tension ebbed by degrees, a seismic undertow.

"Thank you."

Reaching out, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The fingertips lingered on her cheek, cold on hot. Jinx, shivering, melted into the touch.

Somehow, in the interceding days, he'd scaled back on the little rituals of affection. The ones that were nearly second nature. The hug hello, the forehead kiss goodnight, the absent shoulder-squeeze: they were all in abeyance, and had been since The Change.

At first, she'd been too discombobulated to notice. She was still coming to grips with her own body; with the metal on her hand; with the magic in her mind; with the emotions divvied between herself and Viktor.

Between the old Jinx, and the new. 

She couldn't handle the additional stimulus. And she'd been too overwhelmed, too out of it, to pinpoint the missing element.

Until now.

She missed his touch, cold though it was.

Not the hugs; or the kisses. Those were nice. But they were part and parcel of fatherhood, and Silco wore it with the same gravity as his killer's cowl, the mantle draped darkly over him like it was born there. They were part of the duty he'd charged himself with, the night he'd found that lost little girl, then taken her home and renamed her after his own black heart.

They were his, and he gave them freely.

 Now there was a rationing.

On cue, his hand began to retreat. Impulsively, Jinx caught it in both her own.

"If," she said, and there was a quaver in her voice she couldn't repress, "If you're gonna make me sit on the sidelines, then at least lemme help in other ways."

"What way?"

"Viktor's got his hands full with the disaster in the Deadlands. I wanna be useful too. I wanna—fix things." She squeezed his hand. "I'll go through my schematics in the Aerie. The stuff that didn't make the cut for the Expo. Old models for air-scrubbers. Moisture meters for water levels. Structural drying systems. Maybe even something that purifies the air, if I can make the numbers work." She bit her lip, hard enough to sting. "I will make the numbers work. I swear!"

His hand turned beneath hers. Their fingers twined. They didn't fit perfectly any longer: her augmented metal, his flesh and bone. But they fit the way she and Silco always had. The broken gaps filled with love; the jagged edges polished killingly sharp by rage.

"You'll fix this?" he asked, and for all his gravitas, he was a man on tenterhooks. "For Zaun?"

She nodded. Big firm up-and-down. "And for you."

Silco's face remained shadowed by doubt. But a soft pride lit his mismatched eyes from within. His thumb brushed across her knuckles. It snagged, gently, on the metal joints.

"All right," he said.

A hot-pink arrow smote Jinx's heart. The feeling of coming back from a place of death. Before she could lose her nerve, she asked him the question she'd been holding back since the day she awoke in the suite.

"Silco?"

"Yes?"

"Where—where's Gemmie?"

The Hex-gem hadn't been in her bedroom. Or anywhere in the penthouse. She knew, because she'd searched. Because she'd feel it, same way she felt, like a prickle of warmth at her hairline, whenever sunlight steeped the Fissure noon. She knew it wasn't lost, because she could still sense its presence in Zaun, the same way she knew the exact time on a sunless day: a pulsing node of light in the dark. 

A ghostly pain; her own.

Silco's features shifted. He didn't respond, which was a response in and of itself.  As was the way he began, very carefully, to extract his hand. 

Jinx tightened her hold. But he'd withdrawn, the shell back in place. The tenderness was gone.

He stood.

"The Hex-gem," he said, "is in a secure location. Where it will not fall into the wrong hands. Or do further damage. To Zaun—or to yourself."

Jinx's breath jittered. The fishhook between her ribs, yanked sharply, messily loose.

"Where's Gemmie!?" she cried, tears leaping into her eyes. "I want her back!"

"Jinx," he said. "No."

It wasn't the father's patient refusal. Or the kingpin's measured warning.

This was a stranger's voice.

The man she'd first seen in the burning alleyway. His face, all sharp lines licked in flames, a knife hidden behind his back and shadows slinking behind his eyes.

It was a voice that brooked no disobedience; a voice that meant death to all who crossed him.

It was a voice Jinx loathed, instinctively. Loathed it so much she wanted to sink her teeth into his throat, and rip it out, and spray bloodsplatter across the room.

But she'd been weak too long. Relied on him too much. Let the fear of loss and loneliness become her shadow, following her, step-for-step, everywhere she went.

She couldn't hate him. Not yet. It'd take all the will she possessed.

So she did what came naturally.

She burst into tears.

It was an ugly cry: terrible, bestial, high-pitched wails. She couldn't help it. The reaction was visceral. The pain of separation from her other self; lurking in her peripheral for weeks, was now a searing throb in her temples. But the sight of him—so implacable, so immovable, a monster in all the ways that mattered—is what shocked her into shrieking, agonized wakefulness.

"You can't! She's mine! She's me! You can't take her away!"

Silco, flint-faced, made no reply.

"Why?!" She beat the pillow, then hurled it across the room. It was an inadequate substitute. She needed to break, maim, destroy. Else her grief would rip out through the seam her sutures had sealed shut. The split he'd made himself, that terrible night when she'd burst, and everything had come pouring out. "Why why why why—"

"Jinx," he said. "Hush."

"Not until you tell me why!"

"It's for your own safety! It's unstable. It nearly destroyed you! Nearly killed us all!"

"That wasn't the gem! That was the magic overloading! Like—like a power-grid exploding after a lightning strike! It's not her fault! It was the Void—the magic—just being a big bully!"

"I've no time for semantics, Jinx. It is what it is. And I'll be damned if I give it to you, and see it blow a hole through your chest!"

"The gem didn't do that!" she exploded. "That was you!"

Silco fell still. Jinx was no longer crying. A deep rage had overtaken her, the kind that could not be expressed in anything other than violence. Not the violence of action, but the violence of words. And the ones that hurt the most were the ones she hadn't dared speak of, and that he hadn't dared admit, in all the days since The Change.

The truth.

"It was you," she repeated. "All of it! You—pushing me to be the biggest and baddest, because otherwise our enemies were gonna chew Zaun up, and spit it out like bubblegum.  You—keeping Vi away from me, when all she wanted was to love me and all I wanted was to love her! You—afraid I'd become Powder again. Be a useless weakling who always needed saving. Well, guess what? The joke's on you, Silco. You got me right where you wanted! I'm stuck in this bed with nowhere to go and nobody to save and no idea how I'm gonna make a comeback! I'm the weak one now, and that's all I'll be if you keep Gemmie away. I won't have anything to work for. Anyone to fight for. Nothing to believe in." Tears streaked her cheeks. "Nothing except the love that put me in that hole in the first place."

By the end, her voice had lapsed to a ragged whisper.  The anger bled out, leaving her weak, shivery, exhausted.

Silco was still as a stone. The only motion was his chest, rising slowly up and down. His lips were deathly pale. The Devil eye was the color of a thrombosed vein.

"You blame me," he said, and there was a rawness to his voice at odds with the stoic expression.

"I do," Jinx seethed.

The silence cut deep.

"You blame me," Silco repeated. "And so be it. It doesn't change my decision. The Hex-core stays locked, where it won't hurt you—or Zaun. I don't trust it, and I never have. It's too powerful for anyone's hands. Yours least of all."

"Because you don't trust me," Jinx said bitterly. "Because I couldn't deliver the goods to your door, and now I'm a liability."

The vein in his temple pulsed.

"Because," Silco countered, "magic, as I've always suspected, is an indiscriminate force that will devour its wielder from the inside-out. You are not immune, Jinx. I will not let it take you. Even if it means taking drastic measures. You will not have the gem back, because I will not let you die. That's final."

 "I hate you!"

Silco reacted with a suddenness that shocked Jinx. He crossed the space between them in three strides and took her face in his hands. It wasn't a gentle grasp. The pressure left indentations in Jinx's cheeks: cold, then burning. His eyes were the same.

It felt less like a connection than an implosion, the gravity well between them pulling everything inward, the world collapsing around them, leaving only him and her at its burning center.

Them, and a love so barbed it hurt to touch.

"Then do," Silco said, and there was an undercurrent to his voice that made her nauseous. Ice, bilge, and pure black ichor "Hate me. Curse me. Send me, or all of Zaun, to hell for all I care. Because I don't care, Jinx. Not anymore."

The lamp, overhead, flickered again. Jinx said nothing.

"All I want," Silco went on, "all I'll ever want, is to keep you alive. Because you are my daughter. Mine. And if you think a few weeks' bonding with a stone will change that, then I've done an awful job of proving it. I've lost everything, Jinx.  I lost Vander. Lost Nandi. Lost my youth and my sight and half the flesh on my face. And if the magic is going to consume the only thing I have left, then it will take nothing at all. Do you understand?"

Jinx was trembling. Not fear; or anger. Only the hollowed-out ache that comes when a deeply cherished faith is proven a sham. A false-god, whose favor would be revoked in a heartbeat should the real threat rear its ugly head.

Her, and him, and the city they once called home.

"Yes," she whispered.

The pressure on her cheeks eased. The pad of his thumb, gently, met the corner of her left eye, then her right. They came away damp. All her tears were spent. There was a strange clarity to the absence: a sense of loss that was, at the same time, a lightness.

A single feather that could set a body to flight.

"I'll have the Aerie prepared," Silco told her. "Tomorrow, under supervision, you may resume work. Th Hex-gem stays under lock and key. If I catch the faintest hint that you're trying to find it, or take it for yourself—"

"You won't," she said.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Jinx's eyelids drooped. Her head spun. Her ribs hurt. She slumped. He guided her into the pillows. She was dimly aware of him tucking the duvet around her, loving and lethal and leaving her cold.

Kissing her forehead, he straightened.  The lightbulb's flickering intensified, its dying filament flashing on, then off. His features, as he loomed in, came in glimpses of shadow.

Jinx reminded herself that monsters were monsters because of their hunger, not the form they took to satisfy it. Silco was no different; and the thing he hungered for most was her heart.

Too bad Jinx was a monster, too. And monsters were always hungriest when their own was threatened.

"I love you," he whispered.

Then he left.

The door fell shut, a thunderclap. Above, the lamp flickered: a final, spastic flash. It was a blade pressed against the throat of Jinx's sanity, a hair's width from cutting clean through.

Then the bulb fizzed out. Darkness flooded the room, thick as blood, filling every nook and cranny. And all Jinx saw was red, red, red—  

She screamed, and threw the nearest projectile: a bedside lamp, which shattered into shards against the hardwood. 

Silco was gone.

Her anger remained: a heatwave under her skin.

[sgiandubh]

It all starts with a smoke alarm

This wasn't supposed to happen like that, of course. It was supposed to happen with an ”allow me to introduce myself”, at the least. But hey, I am playing the cards I've been dealt, and since an anonymous ask on Tumblr does not allow pictures or links, this will have to do. We'll have plenty of time later.

Yesterday, I said that reading that Single Report reaped benefits. I have screen capped and summed up all the things that made me rise an eyebrow, to make things easier. Hopefully, this is going to be short: who would wax lyrical about a septic tank, after all?

I did not use my superpowers to do this, but simply the link provided by a very active Anon on several shipper blogs, in order to properly stir shite, I presume: https://corumproperty.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/HomeReport-31.pdf

Armed with my wits and a virtual highlighter, I started to carefully read the whole document. Ownership details aside - this, I discussed yesterday -, I remind you that it should give any prospective buyer a good, detailed idea of the available fittings and current condition of the house put on sale.

In Europe and elsewhere, I guess, inspections of this type are rather a dull and thorough affair. And these people did an excellent job: they checked every single nook & cranny, used binoculars to have a closer look at the roof tiles and listed it all on these papers a good researcher should read, before dropping to conclusions.

This is how we know, for example, that the inspection happened on a rainy day:

.. and that the guttering was overflowing. Does that sound like a well loved, lived-in house to you?

Thought so.

This brought a smile. And the image of a Christmas tree left near a London dustbin in June. Home, sweet home?

Like all properties, this also comes with burglar and fire alarm systems. However, apparently not much has been done, in this respect. Or at least, not recently. Not since February 2022, to be accurate: otherwise, they would have been upgraded. Yet, no such thing: it's up to the buyer to do and pay for the upgrade.

Lived-in? Certainly not after February 2022 and probably even earlier, would be my best guess. But lived-in at some point in time, most certainly.

You see, since I was on the real estate agent's webpage, I also took the virtual tour of the house. It is available to everyone, here: https://my.matterport.com/show/?m=AFKibrk8QiD

Now, I don't know about you, but when I visit somebody's house for the first time, I always check the bookshelves: yes, I am a shameless nerd. I am also well aware that the rest of the furniture was staged, it looked that sad, clinical way it does all over the world. Did not expect to find any books in there, to be honest. And yet, there they were.

I didn't bother with the fashion coffee table books, although I thought they were a nice nod to Ms. B's past, and totally the kind of things she might have on her credenza.

A built-in bookshelf in the basement caught my eye. That did not look staged. It looked as she might have left some of her own books in there, like an afterthought, if you want. And people's choices of books are always speaking volumes to me, about who they really are.

It did not disappoint.

More fash-un. And yeah, Tiffany & Co! I knew it!

A Tina Turner bio or memoir. Awww:

Bette Davis and some feminist literature. Her books, I am pretty sure of that:

And, to save the best for last, lo and behold, what do we have here?

Bear Grylls?

That Bear Grylls?

Hahahaha. Of course. I have all the reasons in the world to believe the music producer/PA/whatever is into masculine thrillers written by a world-renowned survivalist, haven't I?

Not a chance in hell, to be honest. I grinned like the Cheshire cat because, ladies, we do know WHOSE book is this, don't we?

Judging by its jacket, well-read. Not a prop.

Belonging to someone with a dry, wicked sense of humor who apparently also left this gem:

A Captain's Duty. At this point in time, I wasn't grinning anymore. I was laughing like an idiot, of course.

Slàinte mhath, ladies. We'll have time for a proper introduction later.

[drawingdroid]

The Unknown Regions III

A Din Djarin x Fem Plus Size Reader Fic

Summary: You, a soft astrophysicist, meet the hardened Mandalorian in less-than-ideal circumstances. Your abilities will lead to you crossing the galaxy together in search of his green son.

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 2

Warnings: Expect conversations about weight, body dysmorphia and internalised fatphobia that may be triggering, so read at your own discretion; injuries and blood; canon typical violence; reader is AFAB and user she/her pronouns; no use of y/n; smut to come in next chapters; porn with plot; plot with porn; Din Djarin need a hug and a fuck.

Word count: 2,777

A/N: Forget reader for not knowing anything about Mandalorians, let's just pretend she was just so focused studying the planets! In my head she's an Inner Rim girlie too, so not much info about Mandos reaching her planet there, I hope you enjoy going inside Din`s mind for a while! I hope it doesn't feels too off since going inside the tin can brain is a lot of guess work hehe. Anyways, I love you so much for reading this and value a LOT your comments, it's very difficult for me to respond to them but I do my best to overcome the anxiety.

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

“We need to stop.”

The sound of your voice over the speeder’s motor startled Din. He had just achieved not being aware of every part of his body touching yours when you spoke in your beautiful tone. You both had been traveling across the desert for a while now, in that time not a soul crossed your path. The truth was that you were a good driver, and Din could have even relaxed if he wasn’t so preoccupied with Grogu´s whereabouts. He was confident about the little boy`s abilities and also sure that Karga was moving Heaven and Earth to find his child. But he wouldn´t rest until his thumb was again between his claws.

Din had another pressing problem too. And it was you. He had been actively trying to fight his arousal during your ride. Dank Farrik, it was taking all of his discipline to stop his hips from moving as close to yours as he desired. But you were a sweet, good-hearted woman who was helping him selflessly and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by any means. He would have to restrain himself just a little more.

“What?” He managed to ask after a moment. You turned a bit in your seat, confident that any obstacle was in sight, and he could admire your profile against Tatooine’s sunset.

“Your bandages, it’s been a while, we have to change them.” Din swallowed thinking about what he remembered as a fever dream: last night, your soft hands over his naked torso trying desperately to keep him alive. He shivered at the only thought of being touched with such delicacy again. He didn´t want to stop nevertheless, he wanted to be as soon as possible inside the Crest, ready to fly wherever Grogu was.

“It’s getting cold, too,” You said, thinking that his shiver was related to the temperature. “If we are fast, I think we’ll arrive by nightfall.” A silence went by while he weighed his options, but then remembered what you said about not being useful to his son if the was septic. He sighed heavily.

“Okay.” 

The spot where you decided to stop was a bit more hidden than the open dunes. Din didn’t want to have any surprises while he was vulnerable, even though he would remain vigilant all the time. He’d do the treatment himself if the nasty burn wasn’t in the most awkward place across his side. It looked like he’d need to rely on you once more. And wasn´t he enjoying that secretly?

“I’m sorry for burning you.” You were on your knees while he rested against a rock, medical supplies on display across your lap. He observed your guilty expression, beautiful brows curving downwards in a cute frown. 

“You saved my life.” He offered, stopping for a second the process of removing his armor. It was a moment of silence where you two just stared at each other until he resumed working on his padded vest. 

When he was bare (his undershirt had ended useless after having to cut through it), you couldn’t hold a heavy sigh that Din noticed. He caught your gaze on him and felt exposed, not used to being seen even without his cuirass. It looked like you felt his uneasiness because your hands started to work fast in the bandages. He tried to look away while your fingers grazed here and there his raw skin, tender and welcoming.

“It seems like everything is healing well.” He could hear the smile on your voice, and without looking he knew your full cheeks were looking round and beautiful. “I smuggled some bacta patches from work that would do even a better job.” He just nodded, grateful and wanting this to be finished as soon as possible. Every muscle in him was tense while he was actively trying not to dwell on how delicious you smelled.

“I’m going to clean the wound first.” You informed him since he was looking away. The gentle touches provoked his chest to tighten and goosebumps started to form on Din’s skin. “Does it hurt?” Your voice carried a lot of worry and he felt bad. 

“Sweet girl, if you only knew.” He thought, biting his lip under the helmet.

“Just hurry up please.” His voice came hoarser than he intended and he cleared his throat before speaking again. “Tell me about your job.” He said in a softer tone, intending to distract himself from the fire of your touch. He finally surrendered to turn his helmet to you again, and maker, what a sight. You were so, so close to him and your cheeks were rosy because of the sun. But the better part was seeing your eyes, lighted up like stars because of Din´s question.

“I’m an astrophysicist. Currently, I’m studying The Unknown Regions at the observatory. Trying to map them and gathering information about their systems.” It was clear you loved your job since your voice became so joyful and full of wonder in a moment. So you were a smart girl. Din knew how difficult calculations were even inside the mapped space. He saw you under another light now, but his interest didn’t show because he just nodded and remained silent as always, thinking about what to say next. Small talk wasn’t his forte. But looking at how your smile started to fade made him panic as he didn’t want you to feel bad. So he tried again.

“For us Mandalorians, knowing our way around the galaxy is essential. Space navigation and calculating hyperspace jumps are as important as blaster training.” You were the one that remained silent this time, gaze fixated on his wounds while applying the bacta patches carefully. It was probably the longest sentence he had spoken since you had met and he was suddenly self-aware of how he sounded. He started getting nervous when you didn´t answer. Prejudice against Mandalorians was usual among the galaxy, and it wouldn´t surprise Din that you’d been fed the same stories about them. 

“So that’s who you are? A Mandalorian?” You asked curiously when you were finished with the patches. Oh, you weren’t mad, just concentrated. Din sighed in relief, feeling instantly ashamed of his concern. “You can dress now, I brought some ration packs if you’re hungry before leaving.”Din started working in his armor once again, fast and efficient, but trying to avoid the tender spots you had just dressed.

“So Mando is short for Mandalorian.” You realized munching a ration bar, speaking more to yourself than anything. When he was finished, you offered another one for him and also the water flask and a thermos with warm broth. When Din refused, your elegant brows joined in a cute annoyed face. “You have to eat something or you’ll faint before finding your son, Mando.”

Your threat worked so he grabbed the food you were offering, but just stood awkwardly there. You tilted your head in a silent question. Din realized then you didn’t know anything about Mandalorian culture.

“I…I can’t show my helmet…face…so…” Din blamed the blood loss for his lack of eloquence, but it looked like you caught the concept. Your smile was so kind when you looked at him understanding.

“Sure! Then if you excuse me, I’ll go use the bathroom to give you some privacy.” You said standing up nervously and shaking all the sand from your clothes. You avoided his gaze al looked embarrassed, probably thinking she had offended him.

“Be careful.” Din said when you started walking towards a nearby rock formation. Turning to him, your expression was amused when you spoke.

“Afraid some of some lizard biting my ass, Mando?” You giggled and disappeared behind the improvised restroom.

“There are far worse things than lizards in this land!” He responded, but the harm was already done: now he would be thinking about your ass again after fighting the thought for hours during your ride. It looked so plush, so rounded, and Din found him conjuring the image of how his hand would feel grabbing a handful of it and… 

“Are you done?” You asked, cutting his daydreaming short. Dank Farrik, he was worse than a teenager. He then practically absorbed the food before giving you the green light, and shortly after you were both on your way to Mos Eisley again.

As you had calculated, the twin suns had just set when you made it through the city’s door. With Din’s indications, it wasn’t long until you arrived to Hangar 3-5. Due to the time, Peli had already finished her work day, so the first ones to say hi were a trembling R5 and the mechanic droids Mando despised.

“Tell Peli I’m here” You both didn’t wait long for the curly haired woman, who was chewing a plate of suspiciously-looking meat. 

“I’m charging you extra for arriving after opening hours! I just roasted the biggest womp rat ever and it’s going to get cold!” She then eyed the woman piloting the speeder and smirked. But when she and Din got out of the vehicle she noticed the lack of a certain gremlin.

“Where’s the little one, Mando?” Her grumpy façade broke when she didn’t even see the hover pram around. Din felt like he was being gutted. He looked at his feet ashamed and defeated.

“They’ve taken him.” It was painful to speak and he felt how his eyes became glazy. Din thanked the helmet in situations like this. He turned his head when he felt a warm, soft hand just where his pauldrons ended. It was you, trying to comfort him silently. Your expression was shy, but your grip was steady and it somewhat grounded him. Peli looked at you both, brows up in silent amusement and Din caught the expression, feeling like his face was on fire. 

“I’ll have the Crest ready in a second.” Peli said, keeping to herself any snarky remark going through her brain. “You better find the little one.” He added with a menacing finger against his cuirass, and Din could only nod. The bounty hunter didn’t tell her he didn’t know where to start looking. If he had his helmet off, he'd be pinching the bridge of his nose, but for now he could just stand there awkwardly twitching his fingers. You had been silent all the time, and Din realized that the dreadful moment had arrived.

“Tell the droids to refuel your bike, it’s on me.” He offered, not knowing how to address the elephant in the room. Din hadn’t noticed when, but you had removed your helmet and now your hair was framing lovingly your pretty face. Tatooine’s three moons made your skin glow like beskar and… Dank Farrik was he an idiot. “Uh…it’s not safe to cross the desert now.” A bit of common sense returned to him when he realized he couldn´t just send you home. He looked to his ship, then to his hands, and then to your pretty face again. All options were worse than each other. Inviting you to his ship? The Crest was probably kriffing uncomfortable for someone as you, he had seen your house, you liked to be surrounded by beautiful things, soft fabrics, like the carpet he had ruined with his blood. It didn´t look appropriate either He got nervous just imagining it. The other alternative was a hotel, but any of them on this side of the city was as unsafe as riding the desert alone in the middle of the night. But finally, his lust-clouded brain came up with something.

“I can drop you by the compound if you put the bike inside the cargo bay.” Maker, why did he have to sound so unsure with you? He felt like an idiot. But it looked like you had been waiting patiently for him to figure things out and just smiled in agreement.

“That would be really thoughtful Mando.” Thoughtful? How dare you say that after driving a stranger across the desert because he had his butt beaten up and his son kidnapped? Okay, it made a good sob story, but nevertheless. Your heart was made of gold. Din then froze for a moment. In his line of work, when things looked too good to be true, he should always be suspicious. He looked at your kind eyes under the moon. Dank Farrik it was almost painful to mistrust you.

“Ship’s ready!” Peli announced cleaning her hands from grease with a rag, followed by her droids. She looked to you and then to Din, and you smiled amicably to her and then proceeded to secure the bike inside of the cargo bay, leaving him and Peli alone.

“She looks like a good one Mando.” Peli nudged his bruised side and smiled with her incomplete dentition. Din couldn’t hide a groan of pain.

“You haven’t even spoken to her.” He responded exasperated, while handing her the credits he owed. 

“Call it women’s intuition.” She ended the conversation returning to her kitchen to that roasted womp rat, leaving Din confused as hell.

In the meantime, it looked like you were ready on the top of the ramp, and you were just looking around uncomfortably while trying not to be too nosy. Din had noticed that one of your many virtues was your politeness and how you didn't make him feel uncomfortable.

“She seems nice.” You commented when Din had climbed the ramp. He chuckled dryly for a moment, and with the modulator it could have been missed for a cough.

“She’s a menace.”

You both were sitting in silence inside of the cockpit while Din covered the distance between Mos Eisley and the Observatory’s compound. What it had looked like a long ride, passed in the blink of an eye, and you were amazed at how fast a ship could move in atmo too. It wasn’t long until the control tower asked about your credentials to land, and you provided the employee number given to you. The landing was gentle and before you could realize it, you were just sitting there staring awkwardly at Mando. You didn´t want to leave.

On the other hand, Mando looked as frozen as you. Neither of you had said absolutely anything since abandoning Peli’s Hangar as if the reality of his son’s kidnapping had finally hit him. You didn’t want what to say. A million things passed through your mind, but any of them seemed adequate. Finally, you gathered the courage to stand up and Mando just kept his visor on you. The silence was thick and uncomfortable.

“I’m… I’m gonna get the speeder.” You finally said, pointing vaguely downwards, but not making any move. He nodded and you felt disappointed. He had just lost his son. What were you thinking? Him asking you on a date? He didn’t look like he did the whole dating thing anyway.

But then that particular thought installed inside your brain, landed like a ship in your head before you could stop it. How dare you? How dare you think you had any opportunity with Mando? Someone like him couldn’t possibly be attracted to you. Warriors valued strong, fit bodies. And you were the opposite of that. Your mood soured and you were just prepared to exit the cockpit when the cabin’s commlink went to live.

“Mando!” The same grey-bearded man from before appeared as a holo, his hand on his hips in a serious demeanor. “I have good and bad news for you.” The bounty hunter turned his body to face Greef Karga, giving him his full attention. “We know who has the kid and where are they taking him.”

“How is that bad news?” You interrupted, without containing your joy at the information. You didn’t know anything about the child, but you were already so invested in his recovery.  

“They are taking him to the Unknown Regions, sweetheart. Unmapped Wild Space.” Karga explained with a gloomy demeanor. “It will be almost impossible to find him there…” He looked as devastated as the boy’s dad had looked before. However, Mando was still in silence although now his back looked straighter and more posture more confident. Maker, he even looked wider than before. He slowly turned his visor to look at you. 

Maybe you weren’t confident with your body sometimes. But the thing you were sure of was your wits. So when you spoke, without looking away from Mando’s visor, it sounded almost cocky how self-assured you were. Your smile, not the sweet welcoming one, but an intelligent, mischievous grin, adorned your face when you spoke.

“It’s a pity for the kidnapers that I’m precisely an expert on that.”

Next Chapter

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Four sighed. Getting floated sucked.

His unit was surprisingly quiet, with only four patients in the twelve-bed unit, which meant the usual staffing was too much. Extra nurses were sent elsewhere in the hospital where they were needed. For ICU nurses, that usually meant getting floated to another ICU.

Four wasn’t so lucky. He instead got floated to the stepdown unit, and was none too pleased about it.

Floor nurses had all of his respect.

How did one juggle so many patients at once? He would only care for one to two in the ICU, but in the stepdown it could be three to five, and on a regular acute care floor, it ranged from four to eight. Thankfully, his status as an ICU nurse meant he couldn’t be given more than three patients, as he wasn’t trained to multitask more than that, so he was spared most of the horror. But still…

It didn’t help that everything about this was new. New unit, new codes for carts, new abbreviations (though thankfully he was sent to the stepdown unit for his own service, so all of these patients were surgery and trauma patients and the language was all the same), new people, new style of patient care.

Four found his head spinning as he tired to organize his shift as much as possible, and then did a double take when a patient walked by, their IV pole in tow, and stepped off the unit alone.

“They—they can do that?” Four asked another nurse. His patients never walked alone, if they could even get out of bed at all.

“You’re the ICU float, aren’t you?” the other nurse chuckled.

“…Yeah.”

The shift started off bizarrely and only got more stressful as he progressed. Report was… bare, for lack of a better word, basic information that Four wished to go into detail, but didn’t have time to do so. The patients weren’t as sick and didn’t need as much fine combing through their chart and analysis of each body system, and Four felt uneasy knowing so little and having to work with so much less information. The med passes were insane, the amount of pills immense, the demands of more alert patients who were still hurting and stuck in their situation but more able to be upset about it was overwhelming. Four found himself enjoying a conversation with a patient in one room while simultaneously watching the clock as he still had a med pass to do in the next room, but his current patient, sweet as he was, wouldn’t stop talking.

How do these nurses get anything done? He wondered to himself as he finally excused himself from the room. (At least he knew more about this particular patient now, though learning his life’s story about his love for cars was not entirely helpful in his patient care)

It wasn’t until halfway through the shift that things truly went downhill.

Working in an ICU made Four paranoid. He paced the hallways, peeking in on his patients far more than was truly necessary. But one time, when he entered, he saw that his previously awake, alert, and oriented patient, who was fairly healthy, was breathing far too fast, pale, and sweating. He looked up at the corner of the room only to remember that there wasn’t a monitor there, unlike in the ICU, and rushed to find the nearest dynamap machine to assess his patient.

After a search that took entirely too long, he returned to find his patient lethargic. He assessed quickly – tachypneic, febrile, tachycardic, hypotensive. This patient was getting septic.

“How do I reach the doctor?” he asked the charge nurse. “My patient’s deteriorating.”

“You can page him,” the charge nurse suggested. “But that’ll probably take too long. I would call for the Medical Emergency Team. That’ll escalate it quickly and get your patient the care he needs. I’ll activate the team.”

Four fiddled with trying to help his patient as much as he could in the meantime. He grabbed fluids in preparation of giving his patient medication through his IV, he grabbed wet wash cloths and ice packs to cool him down. Within a minute or two, the door to the room opened, and he turned to see more unfamiliar faces. Two nurses entered, wearing blue polo shirts, the dark blonde one pulling out supplies while the other approached Four. “Are you the nurse for this patient?”

“Yes,” Four answered, giving a quick report. “62-year-old male, admitted for a liver transplant, was basically going pathway until tonight. He’s lethargic now, has a fever, tachycardic, hypotensive, he’s painting a septic picture, I think. His white count hasn’t been too much of an issue lately, there was a little uptick the last set of labs but nothing extreme. Usually A/Ox4, notable history aside from the cirrhosis that led to this is heart failure without reduced ejection fraction, and hypertension.”

As he spoke, Four watched the other nurse look his patient over, and she asked, “What access do you have?”

“18G in the L AC, 20G in the R wrist.”

“Any of them draw?”

“No,” Four said, wringing his hands a little.

“Got the labs, I’ll go upstairs to run the VBG,” the second nurse said a few moments later.

Four blinked. “Wait wha—are there orders?”

“I’ll put in the orders,” the first MET nurse, who had distinct blue hair, said with a smirk. “Let’s give him a fluid bolus and see how he does.”

Things progressed quickly from there. A physician arrived shortly after, getting report from the nurses, who said the patient likely was septic, would need an arterial line to confirm the high lactate from the VBG, and would probably need norepinephrine infusion since the hypotension wasn’t resolved with the fluids being given. The physician, in turn, placed orders for the medication, placed the arterial line with Four’s help, and spoke to the STICU attending so the patient would return to Four’s ICU.

The team worked efficiently, and despite the seriousness of the matter, Four found himself enjoying it as it felt like his home unit. When they reached the ICU to hand off the patient, Four stayed to help get him settled. He felt a hand on his back and turned to see one of the MET nurses smiling at him softly.

“You did good work down there,” she commented, blue eyes gentle and assuring.

“Thanks,” Four said with a smile. “I never got your name.”

The woman’s smile faded a moment, surprised, and then she huffed. “Sorry. I don’t usually introduce myself. My name’s Zelda. I noticed there are a few of those around this hospital, like there seem to be many Links like you, so just call me Lullaby.”

Four blinked, completely caught off guard – how did this woman know his name was Link? He guessed she’d read his badge at some point, but more importantly, how did she know there were other Links in the hospital? None of them would interact with a MET nurse. And how did she know they had nicknames??

An alarm blared from the monitor, drawing his attention back to the patient, and by the time things had settled Lullaby was long gone.

[fandom-queen-13]

Septicartparty week 3

Do I owe you fluff? No. Do I want to give you all fluff? YES I DO!

Introducing Poppet (Septic Digital Circus) and Dapper (Septic Switcharoo)!

Poppet: A wooden puppet boy, the ringmaster's favorite! I wanted to draw wood grain on his body, but it didn't look right for some reason. He's one of the only braincells in the group, always a calming presence. But if he is a puppet, where are his strings?

W̴̧̤͈̝̣̞̥͙̔̓̀̈́͠ơ̵̠͍̲̦̠͍̦͚͈͈͊͛̉͊̌̚͝͝û̶̠̤̝͍̲͎̰̈́̽̿͜ͅl̴̢̢̠̰̼̗͇͍̠̹̫̘̊͐̉͐͊͝d̷̢̛̰̮̖͂̋͆̔͒͠n̵̜̬̪͖̪̐̌'̵̢̧̲̲̘̼̺̙̗͙̤͕̺͓̤͆͋̍̍̓̂t̴̡̗̻̞̹͍͓͖̳̫̉̀̓̆̆̋̈́̀͝͝ͅ ̴̢̧̫̹̝̥̪̜͕͕̫̱̥̟̉̌͌̀̐͝ͅỳ̵̧̨͇̦͔͍̰͉̞̯͇̤̤̒̂͊̀̊̓͛͂ͅơ̸̛͔͕̞̺̹̙̈́̓̔̚͝ư̶̡̠͈̗̣͍̙̬̼̞̐͊͒̃͒̂͑́̈̐̉̋͜͝ ̵̬̰̬͓͈͓̖͕̈̇̏͒̓͆̇̕͜͝͝ḽ̶̣̳̝̲̟̞̠̓̅ͅi̸̜͓̟̣͈̮̩̇̐̉̆́̾͜ḵ̷̡͕͓̗̬͕͈̔͋̓̈́̾͛̀͌͋̒͐̕͜͝e̶̡̡̛̺̦͇̻̺͖̫͍̬͉̱̐̊̈́̒̾̄̈́̄͂̕̕ ̴̡̨̲̬̖̜͙̦̒̀͑́ͅͅt̶̡͍̻͙̺̗̭̙̋̏̐ͅȏ̸̧̠͖̖͔͉͇̩̞̩͓͊̆̽́̃̒͝͠ ̸̢̧̢̼͕̠̜̪̥̞̰̋̅̀͌͋̒́͑̃̀̆͘̕͝͠ķ̶͍̘͔̲̈̏n̵̛͙̮̳̱̦̟̳̦̙̭̟̮̲̞͂̈́̍͆̀̍̔͝ǫ̵̡͓̯͔̺̪͚͇͍͓̟̲̝̈́̓̐͊̈̓͗̆͒͊͆̋̈́̐͛͜ŵ̵̢͉̯͈̗̫̫͑̑̉́͊̏̓̐̍́̎̒͠͝.̵̡̢͇̹̖͍̩̱͇̥͕̘͐͆͌̚͠.̴̢̛̼̰̲̫͔̝͚͍̮̆͑̀͋̎͛͘.̶̢̧̛̙̖̱͎͇͉̯͛͐͋̌̒̀́͌̒̆͊̚

Dapper: He's so kind and sweet, he must be an angel! Nope, he's a demon from a silent film reel. Well, technically a demon, but everyone prefers spirit. He is very kind and helpful despite being mute and having to carry his film reel literally everywhere. Speaking of which, have you seen it recently? A bad scientist took it, and he's been dragging around poor Dapper ever since! He's been asking this one guy, but he knows that this good doctor can't help him if he can't recall his captor's name. What was it-Andy? Andre?

< HENRIK

MARVIN >

Reference photo:

[slocumjoe]

I don't know if you do romances companion requests but if you doooo.....

Could you do ram Lance's companions reacting to a sole with tattoos getting their name as a tattoo?

I...didn't realize it was a typo, and googled 'ram lance fallout 4 companion mod'...

I've said this before, but I'm solidly in the camp of "this is the final groan before it all collapses" in regards to getting tattoos for/with your s/o...so, maybe a little biased here

Cait; Unhealthy relationships + Sole is the only person who's ever treated her decently = she's the type to enjoy this. That sounds incredibly brusque and cold, but c'mon. Have you heard a romanced Cait? Girl is over the moon obsessed, has nothing but schmoopy heart eyes. Sole letting everyone know fuck you, I'm hers, they can expect Cait to cash that metaphorical check in. Immediately gets Sole's name tattooed as well.

Curie; ...it's a sweet sentiment, but...how positive were they, that the equipment used was clean and the artist reputable? Curie is a hygiene freak. Tattoos, even without the liability of being in a rusty, dusty apocalypse, can get pretty fucking gnarly. They need constant maintenance and care during the healing process, and infections can kill. Septic shock is nothing to wave off. She'll think its sweet for maybe three seconds before panicking.

Danse; Exactly like Curie. Very sweet, speaks to their devotion to him and them (as a couple), and then squints. Hey, love of my life? You got that professionally, right? Outstanding, outstanding...but what does 'professional' mean in a wasteland? Didn't realize tattoos bleed, so the first time that happens, straight to the most reputable doctor (Curie), completely convinced Sole is dying because of him.

Deacon; Not into it. Not even a little. They're spies, presumably. Having a big identifying mark on your body? Bad. Having a big mark on your body that identifies Deacon? Worse! They may as well have gotten a tattoo of his face, age, weight, and height on a wanted poster, are you kidding? Sure, cover it up, maybe, but its still there. There's still an artist somewhere who knows what Sole looks like, knows what tattoo they asked for, probably knows who it refers to. This isn't even getting into the commitment and vulnerability part, that's a whole other thing. But no, Deacon is actually rather horrified.

Gage; The same as Deacon, but less about commitment. If you've got Gage, you've fucking got him. It's the information of it. Sole is putting a weakness on a silver platter for anyone to take advantage of—displaying that Gage is something close to them, something that matters, and vise verse. Raiders are fucking vultures, they'll use that. Gage will offer to get matching tattoos that are undetectable as matching tattoos, something that a third party wouldn't know were half of a set. Like...Sole gets an evil eye, referencing Gage's situation Up There, Gage gets moving gears for Sole's status as a Vault Dweller. Shit like that.

Hancock; Into it as well, no drawbacks. Well, there is one, if Sole tattooed Hancock and not John. If they got Hancock, is a little weirded out that they got the name of a historical figure tattooed on them, that's kinda odd to him. Yeah, it's referring to him, but Hancock is only Hancock because he's trying to be–...John...Hancock...wait, so even John isn't...he's...

Has a mild identity crisis.

MacCready; He's 22. Yes he's into it. Yes I say this with derogatory intent. MacCready might not be okay with needles himself, but he thinks its cool that Sole is. And got his name done. That's...that's a solid way to commit, huh? He's more likely to carved their name into his gun than go under a needle that isn't a stimpak, but appreciates the thought.

Nick; He's an older man. This is the kind of thing that most people age out of, and Nick is one such person. Tried to get a tattoo for a guy he was sweet on in High School, at least, OG Nick did. Couldn't, being 15, but the tattoo artist didn't just turn him away, she explained why it wasn't a good idea. That stuck. Now, with Sole...he's more open to it. It's Sole, his partner in crime-fighting, someone he trusts deeply. They want to express their love for him like that, sure. He thinks its kinda crazy, but hey, this is the same person who tries to have sex with a robot with no dick, tongue, and barely touchable hands.

Piper; Piper knows all the tea, everywhere, all the time. She probably knows many people who've done this, only for the relationship to implode. So...Sole shows her, and Piper grins real big, says its sweet, immediately wants to have a Deep Discussion about their relationship. Did someone tell you this was a good idea? She likes it, very sweet, but seriously, this is the first cut of a thousand. It's possible to win her over, Sole just needs to reassure her that it was genuinely out of affection and commitment, not...like, getting out of the doghouse, or whatever.

Preston; Is neutral to it. He doesn't have the Dark Knowledge that people like Nick and Piper do, but he also wasn't ever...worried, I guess? Preston didn't need a sign like that. It's a take it or leave it thing. He thinks it's sweet, but it's not like he would have been worried if they didn't/wouldn't have gotten it. Also down for matching tattoos, though. Those tattoos wouldn't be as discreet like with Gage, far more uniform and clearly a pair. Maybe one of them gets the rifle from the Minutemen logo, and the other gets the sword?

X6-88; Coursers canonically have 'synth' tattooed in binary on their neck, so it isn't a stretch to think they also just have their...names? Labels? Tattooed as well. So, he's entirely confused as to why Sole tattooed his name on them. That's...his name. And it's not even in the right place, it goes on the collarbone...why did you do this? As a romantic gesture? Getting the same tattoo as your partner a sign of affection, then? But...his is his designation...wouldn't it have made more sense for Sole to get their own name tattooed on themselves?

[hautevaux]

@sephaeroth asked: "Don't worry about me..." MEME: It's Worse than we Thought

Vaux's silence speaks wonders. The angered glint to his gaze that such a thing so much as be suggested nigh burning akin to the very sun itself, but he chooses to say naught. There are yet more pressing matters to tend to, more uncertainty and concern to hurdle ere he can even hope to scold the other with regards to the absolute state he has shown up to the tailors doorstep in.

Vaux glances down the hallway, notes that there is not another soul in the vicinity and then grabs his company's arm to pull him inside. A long exhale was released through nostrils as he briefly disappears into the small bathroom, running warm water to fill the sink and collecting towels and little cotton pads, some antiseptic and things of that ilk before he re-emerges and sinks behind Sephiroth.

Small though Vaux is in comparison, he doesn't hesitate in pushing his taller companion into aforementioned bathroom, reaching for shoulders to insist he sit on the side of the bath.

He turns, gently wets part of a soft cotton pad so that he can begin to so gently wipe away at the dried blood upon Sephiroth's face, still not saying a single word. He's soft with his motions, discarding the pad each time it got too soiled ere replacing it with another and only when he is certain that he had gotten all of it does he soak another in the anti-septic but before he begins, he pauses.

Another long exhale is released through nostrils, this time it errs on the side of quiet upset: the long fingers of a free hand reaching forward to cup at the others face and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

"I'll always worry about you. I've said it once and I'll say it thousands of times over if I have to--- and I worry because you're so very precious to me." A soft exhale follows, his delicate touch returning as he cleans what little cuts and scrapes he can see. "I won't ask what happened but... I'm glad you came here-" Even if Vaux was squeamish about seeing blood, he was managing to keep calm enough simply because there hadn't been too much, thankfully.

"I'd hate to see the other guy." He makes a lithe attempt at a joke, his small smile lingering as he finishes up and then softly places each palm against Sephiroth's cheeks: "There. Back to being perfectly handsome-- Can I interest you in a hot drink while you're here, sweet?"

[agentredops]

Beautiful Person Award! Once you are given this award, you're supposed to paste it in the ask of people who deserve it. If you break the chain, nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out! 🌸

yooo appreciate the award! 💜💙

the COD community has been nice to me since I've created this account and I appreciate that a lot 🧡

gonna tag: @septic-salad @lordskellington003 @littlemissclandestine @redartifex

[thelavendercatalogue]

Was thinking about your au and wondering if Lupin misses out on a lot of little moments that makes life worth living being asleep most of the time. Is there ever a moment he and Jigen get to enjoy a sunset? Having feelings about this.

Oh dear sweet anon. It has nothing to do with Lupin being asleep that he misses out on a lot of things.

Lupins mental health was failing even before the incident and Jigen knew that, the hospital was just the kick in the pants that started the whole snow ball rolling down the hill making things move faster then what was intended

And basically because of him being sick and everything, what would have been easy to treat became harder because if it wasn't for him getting sick in the first place they would've had a much easier time getting through to him convincing him to calm down

Because he got hurt in such a way that made him fearful of loosing what made him him, loosing the life he spent so long building up it spiraled him a lot faster

had he not gotten hurt, and sick he probably would have been more coherent enough to work through it and at least stubbornly try to get better.

But the problem with Post Septic Shock Syndrome is it alters your mental state and has a increased chance of making you more depressed then what you were before. Now combine that with Lupins already deteriorating mental health and you got a recipe for disaster.

There HAVE been instances where Lupin tried to enjoy things he once did, but they never worked out.

For example I've mentioned before

Lupin likes the rain, Jigen likes the rain its a mutual thing, but unlike Lupin, Jigen really doesn't like to go out in it, he's more then content to just laze about in the house listening to it from the closed windows

Lupin on the other hand loves it, he loves playing in it, running out in it, basically all in all just enjoying himself with it

but after his incident, Lupins personality had switched, he became a shadow of his personal self, and one of the biggest tells for this was, when it rained lupin had now refused to go out in it and enjoy it, even if it meant staying out on the porch or the balcony and watching it fall

NOW

Post-sepsis syndrome (PSS) or Post Septic Shock Syndrome) is a condition that affects up to 50% of all sepsis survivors. It includes physical and/or psychological long-term effects, but one of the main psychological/emotional effects include Decreased cognitive (mental) functioning, Hallucinations, forgetfulness/memory loss

And Jigen knew that that was a possibility, the docs gave them fuckin brochures when they left detailing all the shit he would be potentially dealing with when it came to lupin's recovery

But when he finds Lupin standing outside on the balcony during a rainstorm one day, he for a split moment, believes Lupin is actually getting better, finally enjoying what he use to and slowly returning back to his old self again, and while he typically doesn't enjoy being out in the rain he still goes out to join him

When he goes outside to praise Lupin for actually finally going out to enjoy the rain and being back to his old self again, he realizes too late however that. . .Lupin isn't actually acting like how he normally does when he goes out in this sort of weather.

There's no joy or content on his face, instead it's almost like. . .he's stargazing; his head is tilted upwards, as if he's looking at the sky but his face is blank and it's like he's disoriented because he has a glassy look in his one eye and all he's doing is just standing there in the middle of a rainstorm clueless as to what he's actually doing and when Jigen cant rouse him or get him to move he instead stays with him and puts his hat on his head until the rain stops cause lupin isn't even moving his head to keep the rain from falling into his nose

When Lupin finally snaps out of this episode he's in, Jigen asks him if he's alright and if he's ready to go back inside now, and Lupin looks at him and it's like his brain is slowly catching up and Jigen asks him again

and all Lupin does is look at him and go

"Sure. . .what were we doing out here again. . .?"

There are a LOT of contributing factors as to why Lupin seems to "miss out" on things that once made his life worth living. Most is physical of course, don't get me wrong, but that physical is also causing/exacerbating the Mental reasoning's for a lot of stuff. Jigen tries to get Lupin to enjoy stuff they use to, like watching the sunset or their favorite TV show's or such. It's just that Lupin doesn't have it in him either physically or mentally to care anymore.

His life is falling apart.

and no amount of little joys is gonna fix it

[franklyshipping]

Sometimes Heroes Wear Monocles ~ A Jacksepticeye Ego Fanfic

Here we have a fabulous prompt from the ever lovely Jameson/Marvin anon! You have been so so patient, so I hope you enjoy! LET’S DO THIS!

TAGGING: @jameson-lee-jackson and @jam-lee-jackson ​

Quiet footsteps padded through the manor in the midst of the night, the figure trying to be as quiet as possible. Then that figure slipped into the living room, reached the couch…and flopped onto it face first. Within seconds, Jackie-Boy Man was sound asleep. The septic superhero had been spending nearly every night out on hero duty, keeping people safe, stopping crimes, and generally being an incredible human being. But it was also gruelling and tiring for the poor guy, who now was quietly snoring as he curled up on the couch.

A few moments later, another set of footsteps came through the room. It was Jamie, with a glass of water he’d fetched himself from the kitchen. He was using his phone torch to light his way when he saw the snoring hero. He gave Jackie a fond, warm smile. Everyone knew how hard Jackie had been working, and how exhausted all his efforts made him. Jamie tilted his head down at Jackie, his moustache twitching a little as he thought to himself. Then, his face lit up as he made a decision. Tomorrow, after Jackie had enjoyed ample rest, Jamie was going to treat him to the cheer he deserved. He carefully put a blanket on the hero, and headed up to bed.

The next morning, Jamie got up early to begin his endearing plot of love. First, he made sure everybody knew to keep out of the living room where Jackie was sleeping, so that he could get as much rest as possible. Jamie also took over the nearest kitchen, and set about curating the most delectable buffet of sweet and savoury snacks. He made, from scratch, cheesy breadsticks, little garlic buns, jam donuts, chocolate marshmallows, and his ultimate snack… his famous chocolate chip cookies (Jamie had to whack Anti with a dishcloth to stop him stealing them!). As they reached the middle of the day, Jamie put a little of everything on a tray, along with a nice dark roast cold brew with vanilla milk foam, and brought it to Jackie. He put it carefully on the table beside the couch, and it wasn’t long before the delicious scents woke Jackie up.

‘What the…?’

Jackie mumbled, his eyes going wide at the sight of the amazing spread of food in front of him; for a few moments, he genuinely thought he was still dreaming! Then he spotted Jamie sat across from him, and the young man wiggled his moustache as he signed excitedly.

‘Surprise!’

Jackie let out a laugh as he sat up.

‘Jamie… did… did you make all this for me?!’

Jamie nodded, his eyes sparkling as he signed.

‘Yep! You deserve it, you’ve been working so so much and I wanted to treat you! This is your first surprise.’

Jamie’s reply made Jackie grin, his eyes lighting up like that of an excited child as he replied.

‘This is just one surprise, what’s the second?’

‘You’ll just have to wait and see, now c’mon eat up!’

Jamie signed playfully, making Jackie giggle as he got started on the banquet of goodies Jamie had put together for him. Needless to say, it was clear Jackie needed every last morsel of it. It had been a while since Jackie had been able to dedicate time to even a little treat, so to be able to have something of this scale was just… heaven! He ate every last crumb, and for the first time in ages the hero actually felt like a properly energised human being. He let out a sigh as he flopped on the couch, rubbing his stomach with a grin on his face.

‘Whew, man… you sure know how bake up heaven!’

Jamie beamed, his moustache wriggling.

‘Why thank you!’

‘So, what’s this second surprise?’

He asked, doing a little stretch as he let the baked goods sink into his system as he looked across at Jamie with a curious grin. Jamie grinned back… and then stood up. Jackie’s brows knitted together in confusion as Jamie came over to him slowly. Then Jackie’s eyes widened as Jamie stood over him, raised his hands… and wiggled his fingers at him. Colour flooded the hero’s face as he suddenly realised Jamie’s intentions.

‘Woah woah Jamie wait hold on–AH!’

Jamie jumped on Jackie, interrupting him gleefully as his chest shook with giggles. Then, without hesitation, he slipped his fingers into Jackie’s armpits and tickled them, his blunt nails scratching as the hero’s hollows as he winked down at him.

‘Nononohoho! Wahahahait! C’mahahan, thihihis ihihis mehehean!’

Jackie squealed, and Jamie merely giggled, especially when Jackie dramatically clamped his arms to his sides. This didn’t hinder Jamie one bit, his fingers still deftly wiggling into Jackie’s underarms as he sent him a teasy grin. Jamie’s nails showed no mercy, making the hero writhe and wriggle under Jamie as he exclaimed.

‘Thihihis ihihis hehehero abuhuhuse!’

Jackie’s words made Jamie mock-pout at him, making Jackie let out an indignant noise as he squeaked out his words.

‘Dohohon’t mohohohock mehe-AHH!’

Jackie yelped as Jamie suddenly dragged his scratching fingers down the hero’s ribcage, his eyes gleaming as he watched Jackie snort and kick his feet, now throwing his head back with his laughter.

‘Yohohou’re ehehevil! Ehehehevil mohoustache mahahan!’

Jackie yelped, his words making Jamie gasp as he raised his hands to sign.

‘Don’t you bring my moustache into this!’

As a punishment for Jackie’s insolence, Jamie dug his fingers properly into the hero’s poor ribs. Jackie’s eyes widened at the intensity, letting out howls of giddy laughter as he hurried to babble.

‘AHH! NOHOHO IHIHI TAHAHAKE IHIT BAHAHACK! I TAKE IT BACK I TAHAKE IHIHIT BAHACK!’

Jamie grinned, and kept on tickling his ribs. His lean fingers plucked at each of Jackie’s ribs playfully, as if they were cute little string instruments, as Jackie batted at his hands (though, not too strongly). By now Jackie was a mess of cackles and yelps and snorts, a veritable cacophany of boisterous ticklish reactions that Jamie enjoyed listening to. Jamie was certainly dedicated, ensuring that each of Jackie’s sensitive ribs got the exact, precise attention it deserved.

‘Coochie coochie coo!’

Jamie raised his hands for a mere moment to sign, before continuing the rib tickling with delight. Jackie’s face went red as the ticklish feelings surged under his skin; he was desperately wishing he hadn’t slept in his spandex suit, which just made the sensations so much worse!

‘OHOHOHO GAHAHAD NOHOHO!’

Jamie giggled warmly at all of Jackie’s reactions, thinking that they were just beyond adorable! After a few more moments he eased up on Jackie’s ribs, leaving the hero panting and giggling as he gazed up at Jamie.

‘Oh gohod, ahahare yohou dohohone?’

‘Not quite yet.’

Jamie signed in response, along with a wink. Then he teasingly wiggled his fingers above Jackie’s tummy, making the hero squeak and instantly hide his face in his hands.

‘Nononono not there!’

Jamie grinned, his face bright with fond teasing.

‘Oh yes there!’

Jamie signed, before his fingers descended to their fresh tickly task. He only used his fingertips against Jackie’s tummy, giving the hero the most teasy, fluttery tickles known to man… aka, a technique that was Jackie’s most endearing tickly weakness. The gentleness and teasing were almost unbearable! Jackie’s face was beet red beneath his hands, and he couldn’t stop kicking his feet as he giggled and babbled.

‘Ihihit’s nahahat fahahair ihit’s nahahat fahair!’

Jamie adored watching Jackie hiding his face, he thought it was so cute how he was flustered merely from the softest tickles at his tummy! Jamie curled and uncurled his fingers slowly, making Jackie let out a loud, embarrassed whine.

‘Plehehehease! Yohohou knohohow Ihihi cahahan’t!’

Jackie peeked through his fingers as Jamie pulled a mock-innocent expression, his eyes shining as he signed.

‘Can’t what?’

He continued the evil, gentle tickling as Jackie whined even louder, his feet now kicking the couch as his voice got even more high-pitched.

‘Ihihi cahan’t tahahake thihihis!’

Jamie let out a soft, playful gasp.

‘Oh, am I being too rough? I can be gentler for you!’

He signed… and then Jackie squealed when Jamie somehow lightened his tickly touch even more. Now, Jamie’s stroking and fluttering were practically featherlight, which was even more tickly for the poor hero!

‘Ohohoho my gohohohod!’

Jackie soon descended into a stream of purely incoherent giggling and rambling as Jamie treated his tummy to the softest tickles for minute after minute. His fingers swirled over his waist, the little pudge under his navel, the sides of his tummy, the centre, all of it. No part of Jackie’s tummy was left un-teased. When Jamie was satisfied that he’d flustered the hero into the happiest and most blissful oblivion, he then had mercy on him. Jackie ended up consumed by giggles for another two minutes before he was able to catch his breath. When he slowly revealed his face he was completely crimson, practically matching his suit. His eyes glimmered as he gazed up at Jamie, his brain racing with a million giddy thoughts… but there was only one thing he wanted to say.

‘…thank you.’

Jackie’s whisper made Jamie beam. Indeed, there was nothing else that needed to be said. Jackie melted as Jamie gave him the warmest hug imaginable, both of them relishing in the happy snugness. As he hugged the hero, Jamie could feel the joy in him, the relaxation… and for once, a real sense of relief too. They cuddled and cuddled for what seemed like forever, only moving to get more snacks or slip in a movie. It was bliss. Truly, the most well-deserved bliss.

AHHH HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS FIC, LEMME KNOW IF YA DID! WOOO LUV YOUS!!

[septicbro1005]

new theme!

Yep! The Outsiders, my beloved <3

[lirusstories]

Basking in the Sun - Septic/Egotober Day 20

TW: None

Egotober: Music

Septictober: Touch-Starved

Word count: 260, short and sweet

Soft music plays through the room as Jameson sits on the couch with his eyes closed, allowing his mind to dance with the music in shades of blue and gold.

He opens his eyes again when he feels her join him on the couch.

“I made you some tea.” She hums and he looks down and smiles at the filled cup on the coffee table in front of the two of them.

“Thank you.” He hums in her mind, looking up at her lovingly and she smiles back softly.

“Of course love.” She responds just as softly as her smile.

She wraps an arm around him and the touch burns so sweetly. It’s been so long since he’s felt anything like that.

She leans lightly against him, giving him enough room on the couch to move away if it’s too overwhelming.

Instead, he leans into her, basking in her warmth like a fox in the sun.

“Mad?” She asks, though she clearly already knows.

“Mhm.”

“It’s a lovely song.”

“You say that about most Caravan Palace songs.” He reminds her warmly.

“That's because most of them are good.” She chuckles.

Jameson loves that sound, he hasn’t hear it in far too long and he melts into her burning touch when she reaches down and absentmindedly starts playing with his hair.

“I’m glad you’re back My Heart…” She murmurs so quietly he almost doesn’t hear her.

”I’m glad to be back My Soul.” He murmurs into her mind and he feels her physically relax.

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Hello! If you enjoy our work and wish to see more, including spoilers, cut scene's or replaced scene's feel free to join our discord!

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Taglist: @glitchyartist @randowaffle @jselorekeeper @brokentimewatch @secondary-objective-active

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

Who do you thinks gonna die first Ian or Mickey?And how do you think they'll die?

I honestly forgot about this ask.

Me personally think they shall never die, i like that idea best.

Nit it's kind of boring.

SOOOOO

I think they die within a few days of each other, at most a couple weeks. I had a couple at work, the wife went first, but the husband knew she was going and he stopped eating and drinking and three weeks later he died too. It was sweet and romantic, they had been together for decades and were very devoted to one another.

I think Ian would go first, and Mickey would know he was going and he'd be by his side the entire way.

Is this because I love Mickey more that I want him to die last?

I can see Ian dying from a combination of old age and an infection of some kind, like a septic bladder infection or dementia. Dementia is terrible and I wouldn't wish that on Ian. Maybe he develops Parkinsons and it gets severe enough to instead of dementia?

NO WAIT

Ian is still active in his eighties, but is determined that he doesn't need to use a walker yet or a wheelchair, yes he'll use it when he needs to.

He goes on walks and such, and Mickey goes with him to keep his health good.

Ian starts getting wobblier with every step but argues about needing a mobility aide.

He falls at home, breaking his hip. Which wipes him the fuck out. He can't move on his own and the break slowly gets him, eventually he goes on hospice, Mickey joining by his side, heartbreak killing him more than anything knowing that Ian was dying.

He does more cares for Ian than the hospice nurse, giving him bed baths, feeding him, rotating him gently so he doesn't get bed sores. Ian is still alert enough to talk and laugh with Mickey, but that starts to dwindle slowly over the course of a few weeks Ian isn't really talking anymore, he smiles and such at Mickey but that's about it. Their kids try to convince Mickey to take Ian to a hospital or a nursing home so the nurses can be there 24/7 but Mickey refuses, "Let me take care of him until he's better."

"Dad, the doctor's say he won't get better, that this is the end, that we need to prepare ourselves..."

Mickey ignores their oldest, and turns back to Ian, who is sleeping.

"I told him I loved him, I love him, and that means good times, bad times, sickness health, all that shit, and that's what I'm doing. He's staying home, he's staying with me, but a home nurse is as far as we're going."

It's a peaceful death for Ian, he's been on routine morphine and ativan with the hospice nurse and it's peaceful, painfree, Mickey is gingerly holding him in his arms, unable to make himself eat or drink, only getting out of bed to use the bathroom and even that is quick because he doesn't want to be away from Ian.

Mickey holds him, looks at him, takes in the silver curls, the deep laugh lines, the wrinkles, the faded freckles, remembering the young goofball he fell in love with, the flaming curls, the alabaster freckly skin, and he murmurs to Ian how much he loves him, how much he's always loved him, always will. Presses a kiss to Ian's cheeks, his forehead, his shoulder.

Ian smiles gently, "Mickey," he sighs in his last breath and passes.

Mickey is inconsolable, doesn't eat, doesn't drink.

He doesn't want to leave Ian's side even though he's gone, but he finally does.

He passes a week later, the heartbreak cracking his soul.

He passes in the night, the kids are supposed to come in the morning, finish Ian's cremation and celebration of life, he hadn't been able to bear making the plans alone.

He fell asleep looking through albums, shoeboxes, piles of pictures of the two of them throughout their lives, remembering all the moments with his husband, his partner, his boyfriend, his lover, his friend.

He sees Ian in his dreams, like he has been since he passed, honestly since they met.

Ian's holding out his hand, it's every version of Ian he's ever known, flickering into one another until it's just Ian.

His freckly hand reaching for Mickey, Mickey grins reaching out his own hand, and grasps Ian's again, the warmth filling his soul.

When their kids come in the morning he's gone too.

They have a rager celebration of life for both of their dads, a true Gallagher-Milkovich party.

Relatives from all over Chicago come, aunts, uncles, cousins, their own kids.

They spread their ashes in the dugouts, at night, by starlight. The stars above them twinkling like the light that was always in their dads eyes. Especially when they looked at one another.

[star-kissed583]

These are just some head cannons that I thought of for the septic egos. While they may change from time to time-These are some of the main one:

Henrik:

National: German/Jewish

Height: 5 ft 10 in (179.9cm)

Gender: He/him

Sexuality: Gay 🏳️‍🌈 homoromantic

Looks:

light brown hair with few gray strikes,

pasty white skin with freckles around cheeks and nose

Icy blue and grey eyes behind round glasses

Has a tattoo sleeve for both arms

Prosthetic left leg from an accident (maybe I’ll right about it

Pretty muscular form but not too muscular. Just enough

Fun random facts:

Lost his leg when he was 10 years old

Was part of wrestling and track team

Everyone knows he’s a ✨nerd✨ but a handsome 🔥nerd🔥

He used to want to be an astronaut…but after his accident he wanted to be a doctor

More probably will be told later😌

Marvin:

Nationality: French/American

Height: 5 ft 7 in (172.31cm)

Gender: He/they/she (Gender-fluid)

Sexuality: Homoromantic Asexual

Looks:

Long wavy, dirty blond hair

Light tan skin with a small mole by his right eye

Almost violet-blue eyes

Piercing on her belly button and ears.

More lean and skinny figure

Random facts:

Basically started their own clothing line

Best friends with Jackie (known since 8 years old)

Sassy bitch that wears makeup and WILL judge your style

An amazing cook (could beat Gordon Ramsey-but not JJ)

Is a survivor of breast cancer (has small tattoo symbol on side)

More to be known later 🤭

Jackie:

Nationality: Netherlands

Height: 6ft 3in (190.5 cm)

Gender: he/him

Sexuality: pansexual panromantic

Looks:

Long enough dark brown hair to tie in man bun

Baby blue eyes

Big bright smile

But more muscles that Henrik

Has scars a some burn marks—Special scar is the chest scars

Random facts)

Did American football in high school

Definitely doesn’t have ADHD

Transgender (born Female and transitioned to male)

Always wanted to be a police officer-but Marvin says he should get a restraining order for his fashion😌

Bad habit of not caring for himself 😬

More added later-

Chase:

Nationality: probably Mexican/American

Height: 5 ft 6.5 in (169cm)

Gender: He/him

Sexuality: bisexual biromantic

Looks:

Super dark brown hair that’s curly

Light brown skin colour

Chocolate brown eyes

A well built enough figure

Birth mark on his side of the neck

Fun facts:

Played soccer and did track and got the legs of steel😎

Best friend is Henrik and both had trouble speaking English at first

Shitty ex, but got some sweet kids who are his entire world

Dad jokes-lots and lots of dad jokes

Stubborn as hell but who’s to stop him 🤷🏻‍♀️

Anti:

Nationality: Irish/Korean

Height: 5ft 7in (170.7cm)

Gender: He/they

Sexuality: BIG GAY

Looks:

Black hair

Pale ass skin

One green eye and the other is blue

Lean figure but don’t let it fool you…they’re stronggg💪🏼

Piercings and the scar on his neck

Fun facts:

Black belt in martial arts

Owns a motorcycle that he treats like his B A B Y

most definitely not the emo one

Probably works as a spy or assassin 🤷🏻‍♀️

A teddy bear if you’re close to them (JJ)

Loves porcelain, antique teacups. Probably has a shit ton in a furniture

JJ:

Nationality: British/Greek

Height: 5 ft 3in (160.02cm)

Gender: they/he

Sexuality: Demisexual and romantic

Looks:

Black hair

Bright teal/green eyes

Pale skin with freckles all over

Has some scars but don’t ask about them

Fun facts:

They’re an Angel. Don’t mess or upset the Angel or everyone is after you…especially Anti

Wears the most bright pastel colours of the group

Does dance, ballet, ice skating-no judging allowed

Super flexible because they used to be in gymnastics when they were young

Best friends with Anti and under his protection.

Depending on what I’m writing-they’re mute, selective or not, or has powers to think his thoughts to others mind, or other exceptions that may happen depending on the story🤷🏻‍♀️

Basically these may change depending on what I write or draw-but these are basically main ideas I had of these egos! They may change or more will be added😌

[the-wild-ego]

Hello! :3 if the ship writings are still open I'd like one with the Septics please! My personality is a little shy but I love learning new things, reading, and helping people :)

Hello! My ship recs are still open! I'm enjoying doing these while I take a break from my big pieces. If you haven't read 'Little Darling' or 'A Voidless Cry' then I totally recommend you check them out.

As for who I ship you with, that'll have to be Robbie. The sweetie who needs a sweetie. Your personalities compliment eachother well, as he comes out of his shell when he's around you. And he's always ready to stick up for you, because you are his person. He doesn't quite understand emotions, but he knows you mean a lot to him. However, because he's unlikely to express his emotions, it can lead to a lot of self consciousness and loneliness;

Robbie sighed, staring at the pale face in the mirror. His heart did not beat, his blood did not run, he felt no pain... So, why be called 'undead'? Doesn't that mean, 'not dead'? He didn't understand much about himself, just that Henrik and Marvin created him. And Robbie knew he cared about them. He also knew that he cared about you. Yes, the most beautiful being he has ever witnessed. The way you talked, the way you moved, the way you lived so freely. He just couldn't relate to that.

Walking out of the restroom, that he couldn't even use, he went straight to you. The warmth of your body calling out to his always-too-cold skin. The smell of food in the kitchen, food that he could eat, told him your location. Always moving. Always loving and taking care of him. Why couldn't Robbie feel these things, too?

"Y/N..." Robbie mumbled, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his head against you. The soft tone of his voice alerted you and you promptly turned around to return the hug. The ground brains you were fixing Robbie could wait a little longer.

"What is it, sweetheart?" you asked softly, running a hand up and down his back as you hugged him. It was something that comforted Robbie, especially when you applied pressure. It made him feel warm. Something he's only felt with you.

"I-I..." Robbie huffed a breath, redness tinging on the corners of his eyes, offering insight to his frustrations, "I see, hear, smell, taste, 'nd feel physically, Y/N."

"Of course you can, Robbie. You were human once." you smiled gently, pulling back just a bit more. You knew where this was going, most of the time Robbie was cheery and playful. However, recently he's been more in tune with his emotions. Namely sadness and frustration.

"Why can't I feel? Feel emotionally?" Robbie frowned, knowing that statement wasn't exactly true. He felt things, on a smaller scale than humans. Yet, he was still learning to differentiate and control those emotions.

"Oh, Robbie..." you hummed, ruffling his hair a little bit. You understood him, you really did. His quirks, his interest, the void emotions. It never got to you, you loved him, "You'll learn, I promise. Emotions are tricky and a lot of the time, your emotions overlap with one another and it makes it even harder to understand them."

"That didn't answer my question. Emotions are stu-" Robbie started again, pulling away from you. You were quick to pull him back in, though. For a kiss, quick and sweet. You loved how bashful he got everytime you gave him affection.

"Was that stupid?" You quirked a brow and Robbie shook his head, "I know it's hard for you, sweetheart, but I need you to understand something, okay?"

Robbie nodded his head this time, lifting his sleeve-covered hands to rub his cheeks. It's how he focused on the more important things you had to say.

"I love you, Robbie. And I know deep down that you love me, too. Even if you can't find that emotion yet... I promise I'm not going anywhere, okay?" you comforted him, taking one of his hands and kissing his palm.

"Thank you, Y/N..." Robbie trailed, smiling softly at you. Taking a deep breath, he spoke again, bringing a deep warmth to your insides.

"I promise I'll learn to love you, too."