#they are my favorites i need them back and happy like the oxygen i breathe

[witchinatree]

addition to my previous post

martin could not fathom making a choice that would make him lose jon, because they always had each other. even if jon hated him, he was a constant in martin's life through the horrors™. and it hurt him when jon was able to think of a plan that would take him away from martin, because he thought jon didn't feel the same about him. he thought jon didn't need him, like everything else in his life

jon hated himself, he blamed himself for ending the world and felt like no punishment would be enough. he wanted to lose martin because he knew it would hurt more than anything in the world. he felt the exact same as martin, he just hated himself so much he felt like he deserved that unimaginable loss

they make me so ill :( they are so in love to the point that the idea of losing each other is the most painful thing in the world. they doomed another universe because it meant they kept each other. they died together because it meant they kept each other

[ahqkas]

Hello hello! I just discovered your blog and I adore how you capture the batboys (Jason is my favorite >//<) air and vibe so well. It is like you're in the room with them! I'd like to request a little fic or blurb about reader and Jason being besties and both of them are comfortable with one another so they are touchy with each other. In a non-sexual way. Like, hugs and holding hands or leaning on one another. I'm a very touchy, but only with people I'm very fond of and I think Jason would be the same way. I think i'd be so cute if they do it without even realizing it. It is like they are magnets. Reader will walk in the room and migrate over to him and loop their arms and lean her head on his shoulder. Or vice versa. They would be standing in line at a shop or they are cooking dinner together and Jason just drops his head on her shoulder, hunching over to feel her warmth. They love to drape themselves over each other to recharge or simply be close. Even linking pinkies makes them happy. Maybe they don't notice they are in the same room, but still find themselves brushing shoulders before smiling once they notice who it is. I think Jason would make you feel so safe and comfortable too. He is so much bigger than you that you just want to hide in his presence. Like a giant teddy bear. (I'm shy too. So he is like the perfect shield to unexpected social interactions.) I got off topic! No matter where they are, walking down the street, sitting on the couch, going to a bookstore, eating dinner, they always find a way to touch one another. Maybe even light kisses on the cheek in greeting/goodbyes. They just can't help it! It is so bad (but good though ofc) that people assume they are married. His family loves to tease him about it, if they even know about her. Anyway, that is my idea! Love your work! <3

JASON AND YOU DIDN’T THINK ABOUT IT MUCH—how easily you gravitated toward each other, how natural it felt. It wasn’t something you planned or discussed; it just happened, like the way a flame seeks oxygen or tides chase the moon. It was a rhythm you fell into without even realizing it.

Like tonight. You’d just walked into his apartment after a long day, shrugging your jacket off as you searched for him. You didn’t need to call out or knock; Jason always left the door unlocked for you, a silent reassurance that you were welcome anytime. You spotted him in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, chopping vegetables with the kind of precision that made you wonder if he’d learned it from Alfred or while cleaning weapons. He glanced up, a slow smile spreading across his face as you drifted over to him.

Before you knew it, your arm had looped around his, head resting against his broad shoulder. His warmth radiated through the thin fabric of his shirt, and the steady rhythm of his breathing grounded you in a way no amount of solitude ever could. “Long day?” he asked, voice low and rough, like he was talking more to the air around you two than directly to you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, closing your eyes for a second. “You’re too tall for this to be comfortable, you know.”

Jason huffed out a soft laugh, setting the knife down and turning slightly so he could press his chin to the top of your head. “And you’re too stubborn to just sit down and let me cook. So, here we are.”

It was always like this. Subtle touches that felt as natural as breathing. Standing in line for coffee, Jason’s hand would find yours, linking your pinkies just because. Or you’d be out walking, and you’d lean into his side, not realizing you had done it until you noticed how his shoulder dipped to accommodate your height. Even when you weren’t actively seeking each other out, there was this unspoken pull. A brush of shoulders, a casual hand on the small of your back when he guided you through a crowded room, the way he’d rest his arm across the back of the couch when you watched movies, his fingers absently playing with your hair.

People noticed, of course. The teasing from his family was relentless whenever they caught wind of it. “So, when’s the wedding?” Dick would quip, smirking as Jason scowled but didn’t deny anything. Even Alfred had raised a knowing eyebrow the one time you’d stopped by Wayne Manor, Jason’s hand firmly on your lower back as he led you into the room.

Jason never seemed bothered by it, though. If anything, he seemed more protective afterward, like he was daring anyone to say something more. And you couldn’t blame them for assuming. The way Jason looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention—like you were the only safe harbor in a world full of storms—would’ve convinced anyone.

But for the two of you, it wasn’t about labels or explanations. It was about the quiet comfort you found in each other. The way Jason could hunch over and rest his head on your shoulder after a long day, letting you feel his weight and warmth as though he trusted you to hold him steady. Or how you could slip into his space, no matter how crowded or chaotic, and know that his presence was enough to make you feel safe.

You were magnets, constantly drawn together. And in a world that often felt too loud and too harsh, Jason was your soft place to land. Your best friend who made the world seem a little less intimidating, one touch at a time.

ADDITIONAL NOTE! hi lovely !! i’m sorry if this is too short but thank u sm for the request <3

[fashionteahouse]

Can I get one where Paul imprinted on the hottest girl on the rez and all the pack had crushed on her at one point in their lives so when they are all out patrolling Paul keeps thinking back to when he and the reader slept together the pack can’t get that image out of their heads so when they are with their own imprints during their sexual activities they accidentally say readers name when they finish and the imprints get mad thinking something is going on kinda like that episode

yes! this honestly seems so juicy to write 😭 hope you enjoy :)

rewind - paul x reader

Admiring from a far, each pack member imagined what it would be like if you said yes. They looked forward to seeing you around the rez. You knew them kind of well from growing up together. Annoyance was there when you knew the inevitable question would come, “Can I take you out?”

Everyone was turned down. One after the next. It was confusing because it was rare for a very pretty girl to be single. You didn’t care about being in a relationship. You wanted to focus on your future. Something needed to stick out to you for you to gravitate towards it.

With rejection targeting all of his pack brothers, Paul for the first time was nervous about asking out a girl. After he shifted, he saw you walking with a friend in the city and bam! He felt like he could take the word into the palm of his hands and own it. He wanted to own it with you. You seen him around, but never struck up a conversation with him.

In a way, you thought he was a bit interesting. His eyes enchanted yours and you found yourself finding it hard to look away. You had to though, in order to cross the street.

The pack didn’t believe him when he told them he imprinted on you. Waving it off and saying, “She’ll shoot you down too.”

He knew they were just jealous. He watched slowly but surely as his pack brothers were getting entangled in their imprint’s lives.

He felt like he could do a thousand backflips when you agreed to let him treat you out to ice cream. You didn’t know that one yes could change the trajectory of your life. One hangout turned into many. Soon, you both were joined at the hip. You both didn’t need to breathe in oxygen. You had each other. The kisses were sweet, the touches were comforting, and the moments never seemed to be enough.

Breathy pants of Paul’s name escapes your lips over and over. Dancing with stars was the best description to match the feeling you both felt. Hovering over him, he was able to possessively cup your breast as you bounced on him. Reaching your peak, Paul watched as you went silent and arched your back as you faced the ceiling with your eyes closed, trembling.

“Jesus..” Jared comments.

A growl erupts deep in Paul’s animalistic mind and leaks out of his throat. He totally forgot he was on patrol. He couldn’t help it. You drove him wild. He was counting down the very second he was able to go back to you.

“Thanks. I’ll never get it out of my head.” Quil says, almost not sorry for admitting the excitement he felt.

Paul predatorily creeps towards him, “I have an idea on how to get it out for you.”

“That’s enough.” Sam orders, knowing Paul will actually attack him to make him forget.

“You all need to mind your business.” Paul says to the others.

“I still can’t believe you were able to score her. You really are the spirit’s favorite.” Jacob says. He was tired of the same sexual positions that his imprint was comfortable with.

“I swear Kim only gets on top every once in a blue moon.” Jared says.

“Didn’t ask.” Paul says and think of blankness for the rest of patrol.

Emily was happy to see just Sam come through the door. Usually a pile of boys would be behind him.

“They wanted to go home.” Sam explains when he noticed Emily’s puzzled expression. He knew the reason why. She nods and smiled and pulls him close to her. His intrusive thought of what he saw during patrol made him feel aroused. He tried to shake it. Finally having alone time, the bed rocked to the rhythm that Sam pumped into Emily. Her brain was mush and she was loving every second. Her rolling hips reminded him of how you bucked at Paul. Feeling the tingling of climax approaching, he pumps faster, only to whisper your name as he rides out his orgasm. He hopes that it was quiet enough for it to miss Emily’s ears. Emily rewinded what he said as he moved to the bathroom to clean up. She felt some type of way. Hurt even.

Jared had to coerce and coerce Kim to be on top this time. The memory of what he saw in his pack brother’s mind, made him really want Kim to do it. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” she shyly says. Jared caress the sides of her skin giving her a content smile. “Just move in the direction it feels good.” he coaches and helps give her the start of the rocking motion. A special spot hits her and she gets the hang of it soon enough. Her face slightly titled up and eyelids hung low, Jared’s mind rewinded the image of the same position he saw on patrol. Bucking his hips, he closed his eyes trying to focus on just Kim and just Kim only. Instead, the picture of your puffy and puckered breasts moving up and down was alone with him. At the height of Kim’s note of her orgasmic moan, he moaned at the same time as her, calling your name. He didn’t think she heard, her voice was louder than his. Kim noticed because she actually liked on top this time, she was left wondering if Jared didn’t like it. Another girl was on his mind.

Laying on his back, waiting for his imprint to come into the bedroom for bed, Jacob stared at the ceiling. He tried to make it through the seconds that passed him to not go back to the imagery of you in the bedroom. He was happy with who he was with. He just wanted a switch up every once in a while. Coming in, slowly becoming shy as Jacob pulls her to him, she runs her fingers through his hair. He kisses her with love and while she was still on top of him, he rocks his hips a bit even though she still had clothing on. Gladly, she responds with the roll her hips, getting comfortable with position. Jacob takes his sweet time, it was a blessing for her but it was a curse to him. Trying his best to focus on the girl removing her top, he rewinded on the moment of your orgasmic face. He wanted to make his imprint make the same face. For the heck of it, his imprint rode him without wanting to go safe. She was shy at first but Jacob’s grunts and groans motivated her to keep going. Watching him squeeze his eyes shut, she felt really good. At her peak, she heard a groaned out trail of your name leave his lips. She didn’t want her tears to show until she leaves out to turn on the shower.

A three way communication was involving the three imprints. One vented to the other of what happened in bed. They came to the same conclusion and let the other know, only to find out they’re all victims. Wondering on what to do, Kim couldn’t help but speak her census.

“Y/N definitely has something to do with this”

Emily didn’t want to believe it but in her mind, there was no other reason why Sam would say your name.

“I’ll invite her over. If she’s around the boys they will either stick up for her or vise versa”

Waiting on your arrival, you were stalling to leave Paul. He was like a magnet. He promised to pick you up soon.

Arriving was normal for you. For the other three girls, not so much. You joined them at the table and is surprised that none of them got up to hug you like they always did.

“We won’t be mad, but what’s going on with you and the boys?” Kim starts off. She didn’t want to do small talk. This was no manner.

“The boys? Um…it’s been a while since I’ve seen all of them. But as far as I know, nothing.” you say trying to bring a resolution.

“Have you seen Jared?” Kim asked.

“No. Why is he missing?” you ask worriedly now.

“No, he’s not missing…if you’re leading him on then it’s not a good idea.” Kim says getting agitated. Emily touches her arm.

You get confused and thrown for a loop. “Me, leading them on? What are you talking about?” you say.

“Our three imprints said your name.” Jacob’s imprint speaks up to say.

“What?!” and then you laugh. You actually think it’s a joke. “Okay, you got me. That was a good one.”

Their furious expressions don’t change and you notice, your smile starting to deflate.

“I really hope you’re not serious.” You say trying to piece everything together.

“We’re not joking.” Emily says.

“I’m sorry, but that’s their problem. I haven’t done anything for them to do that. Why would they do that?” You ask and ask the last question really wanting to know.

You pull out your phone, feeling uncomfortable. Kim starts to say and points her finger at you accusingly, “That’s so fucked up. They wouldn’t just do that if you didn’t do anything.”

You let your finger press on Paul’s contact, turning your head to Kim. “You need to ask them. Not me.” you hiss to them and Paul picks up. You ask him to pick you up but Kim interrupts, “You might need to ask her if she’s doing anything with your pack brothers.”

“What?” Paul says on the other line.

“They think I’m the reason why their imprints fantasize about me.” You say in disbelief, tears trying to prickle your eyes. You didn’t like being accused of such thing.

“Y/N, put me on speaker.” He says to you and you press it.

He calls out for the angry imprints’ attention. Once he knows that they’re actually listening to him on the phone in the middle of the table, he speaks out about what happened on patrol.

You had no knowledge of this and put your face in your hands. All you could think about that the boys saw that moment. The looks of the imprints changes from viciousness to great compassions.

They all make an effort to hug you right after Paul hangs up, feeling guilty for jumping to conclusions. The apologies were sincere and promised to never make such thing tear you guys apart. Now united, you all now think of a plan to make them feel what you all felt.

[ktownshizzle]

Not your reblogs giving me heart palpitations thinking you dropped Part 2 Of L&L

Sorry, baby! Will you accept the first 500 words as my apology. ;)

EDIT: part 2 in full is here!

Love & Lullabies | Part 2 (Teaser)

Ever since that dinner when you inadvertently confessed about your age-old attraction to him and assured him that any residual feelings are buried in a metaphorical time capsule, Yoongi seems to have made it his personal mission to rizz you up on purpose.

Haneul’s been especially rambunctious all day. Mealtime is no exception. Yoongi volunteers to feed him, thinking he can rein in some of the pent-up energy. At some point, Haneul squeezes his pouch of organic muesli and carrot puree with so much enthusiasm that it explodes everywhere, sending bright orange flecks across Yoongi’s face and pristine white tee.

“GAHHH!” Yoongi yelps, staring down at the mess, while Haneul absolutely loses it, tiny belly-shaking laughter filling the room.

“Silly, silly sarang,” you coo, using the pet name you’d started calling Haneul lately. It’s adorable how he beams every time he hears it, flashing you that gummy grin like he knows he’s your favorite troublemaker. You laugh too, as you wipe a splatter of puree from Haneul’s cheek with the muslin cloth you were holding.

“Do I have something on my face, too?” Yoongi leans towards you expectantly with the barest of smirks.

“Uh… yeah.” You say, flipping the cloth to a clean side and wiping off the smudge on his cheeks and his chin, and that pesky little morsel on the side of his lip.

For some reason, you seem to need a blast of oxygen straight to your lungs. Stat.

With a lick of his lips, Yoongi nods his thanks. “Gotta change,” he mumbles, lifting the shirt away from his chest with a grimace and walks towards the hallway to his room.

And you almost regret your decision to look back, almost.

Because, oh wow, he’s taking his shirt off. Yep. Fuckin’ dammit. The shirt is off.

Christ.

His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing as he runs a hand through his hair. The infamous “7” tattoo on his shoulder is taunting you. You are unable to pull your eyes away, already knowing you’re doomed.

Then, before he mercifully disappears into his room, he glances over his shoulder and catches you staring. Shit. Your heart plummets straight to your ass. He smirks, U-turns towards you shirtless and utterly shameless.

Your nerves short-circuit as he reaches out, just barely brushing your thigh to pick up his phone from the mat. His eyes hold yours, a dark glint of mischief in them, “You good?”

“Huh?” The brain fog is crazy. You will yourself to keep your eyes above his chest, but of course you gone did it.

Why are his nipples so cute? And damn is that a happy trail?

He snickers softly, like he knows exactly what’s going through your head. “I’ll be back. Han’s eating the remote by the way.”

And with that, he saunters off, leaving you there, a blushing, flustered mess as you find Haneul gnawing on the remote control.

You pull it quickly from his grasp, muttering under your breath, “Sarang, why are you and your appa being such a menace?”

He babbles happily at you, as if he knows he’s not the only troublemaker with a gummy grin in this house that got you wrapped around their finger.

A/N: WHAT DO WE THINK???

Full part coming soon. :)

Taglist:

@yoongznme @nnybtitts08 @rinkud @nbjch05 @perfectiondazesworld

@marnz1990 @mxrauds @queenbloody @jadestonedaeho7 @futuristicenemychaos

@direnediane @glossdebut @maryhopemei @theresstardustinmyblood @mggv97

@wobblewobble822 @kam9404 @supernoonanyc @damn-u-min-yoongi @ot72025

@busanbby-jjk @granataepfelchen @jajabro @tarahardcore @marihoneywk

@ryryvna @tea4sykes @mar-lo-pap @lilkittenjenjen

@captainchrisstan @thelittlecatonthecake @flaneuseonthestreets @sexytholland @diamonddia-mond

@yronathaniel @as-hs-blog @amarssfanfic @mafersame @amarawayne

@eurydiceofterabithia @diame93 @welcometomyworld13 @wonh0oe @lilkittenjenjen @jalexad

[kvrokasaa]

karasu comforting overachiever!reader with a lot of anxiety?

my exams are around, ive cried 6x and had a mental breakdown in 3 days. and im a good student at heart but not on paper. im trying😭

take care! love❤️

I can relate to this sm, I promise myself that I’ll study but then it gets late n all I wanna do is sleep lmfao. But I hope you’re doing alright, love. Remember to drink lots of water and eat lots of food! And take breaks when studying so you don’t get headaches!

Sorry I posted this so late, but here it is.

Cw: crying, fluff, comfort, friends to lovers, cursing, not proofread. lmk if i missed any!

Wc: 1.1k

Overachiever!

Karasu is like your best friend, he’s always been there for you and promises he always will. Even when he left for a program called Blue Lock, he still managed to talk to you. Especially when you were going through a nasty breakup with your ex. He has always been there for you.

Something Karasu noticed over the years of being your friend; you’re an overachiever and a perfectionist. You have to get good grades, it’s like it was hard-wired in your brain since you were a child. If you didn’t get a good grade, even on a test that was optional or didn’t have any impact on your overall grade, you would feel so ashamed and full of anxiety. You were afraid of your teachers hating you, honestly, you’re just afraid of authority figures. You would always try to hide your feelings behind a fake smile, and sometimes it worked. But this time it didn’t.

You were in your room studying, all day long. No matter how many times people tried to pester you, or ask you to take a break, you would decline and go back to studying. You needed to get a good grade. You had stayed up all night long studying and going over the crucial information that would be on the final.

So why? Why do you have an 84% on your final? Why isn’t it at 100? Other people congratulated you, saying that the test was really hard. But you know that Mia, the top student, got the perfect score without even trying.

You tried this year, you really did. You made a resolution that you would try your hardest this year; that you wouldn’t give up so easily like last year. And you know that bad habits die hard, but you were doing so well. Even though this isn’t your last year, you feel like you failed at school.

‘Take a deep breath. Failure is the one pathway to success.’ Karasu’s words came floating into your mind. But you could still feel the onslaught of the tears and the tightness of the pain in your chest. You tried to take a deep breath but it wasn’t enough, it felt like all the oxygen in the world just vanished.

You don’t know how you got home, all the memories of the people saying ‘Good job’ and ‘Don’t beat yourself up, you did better than me’ are the only ones you can remember. All you want to do is crawl into your bed and cuddle your stuffed bear while you cry. But you have to study more; you have to study for your next classes. You can’t just give up because of one class. Oh but how badly you want to.

A sudden knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts. “Come in.” You cringed at the crack in your voice, quickly you straightened your posture and pretended to be okay.

But all of that faux hope and happiness faded away when you saw the unmistakable blue eyes. The tears came rushing back, along with the shaky breaths.

Karasu walked over to your desk and smiled down at you. “Hey, just wanted to stop by,” his hand raised, revealing a bag with your favorite restaurant name. “I brought your favorite.” His voice died down, almost to a whisper when he saw your tears.

You quickly wiped them, but the red streaks were still there. He sighed and sat down on your bed. “It’s okay, Y/n. Stuff like this happens, don’t worry about it too much.” You shook your head. “No, I should worry about it,” he raised a brow. “Why?”

You felt a little agitated because he couldn’t understand. Of course he couldn’t, he’s always been the type of person to get good grades without even trying. Knowing him, he probably slept through most of his classes and still got a 95 or higher on his final. Typical Karasu.

“Because who would I be if I don’t have good grades? I know that grades don’t matter much in the world, but I’m the one who feels the shame. I’m the one who has to remember what it feels like to try your hardest and still fail.” You felt like pulling your hair out, breaking things, just something to ease your mind. To ease the pain.

He brings his hands up to your cheeks, squishing them a little which brings a smile to his face. “Remember what I always tell you. ‘Failure is a pathway to-’ ” “To success. I know that, but still,” You move your head, making him release his grip. “I don’t want to fail, I don’t want people to remember me as the person who always failed.” Your voice was almost higher than a whisper, but he still heard you loud and clear. Karasu could hear and feel the pain from your voice.

“You-” you release a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

‘Ironic’ he thinks, you’re the one who’s not understanding. A simple grade doesn’t define who you are as a person.

“Y/n look at me.” He grabs your face, “You are doing your best, you’re trying your fucking hardest and I’m so proud of you for that. You’re way smarter than what people give you credit for.” You try to shake your head, but his grip on your jaw tightens. “No. I don’t want to hear you deny anything. You need to understand that it’s okay to fail, it’s okay to feel helpless after a bad grade. But it’s not okay to beat yourself up. Don’t worry too much about how this grade, which is a passing grade, will affect your future.”

Karasu pulls you in for a hug. You close your eyes and bury your face in his chest. “You’re in the present right now, not the future. And I’m sure the future you are a CEO; trust me I can see it.”

You both laugh at his words. You sniffle and look up at him, “thank you, I really needed that.” He nods his head; his eyes looking from your eyes to your lips. “Anytime, I mean it.”

This is what you expected, a lecture and comfort from Karasu. It’s what you wanted. But what you didn’t expect was his lips on yours. Before you could enjoy the moment, he pulled back and smiled down at you. “Safe to say that I think you return my feelings,” your eyes darting everywhere but his and your little nod was a good enough answer for him. “And as much as I want to kiss you again. Our food is getting cold.” He pulled you down onto the bed along with the bag of food. “Let’s eat.”

[marginofthought]

Your last post about S8-9 preggo Sam 😩😩😩😩I NEED to know what happens next

Okay, my favorite headcanon here is that they actually figure out that something isn’t right with “Ezekiel” quicker and they manage to evict him early. I’m not the best at drawn out angst (i love my happy endings too much) so be warned:

Sam came back to himself, not slowly but all at once and he bent over in the chair to get his breathing under control until he stopped when he couldn't bend as far as he should be able to.

He opened his eyes just to see his shirt extended, stretched tight over the huge sphere his stomach had become.

His breathing picked up further but he just couldn’t get any oxygen into his lungs. He must have been wheezing by now but he couldn’tt hear himself, the rushing in his ears too loud for anything else.

He didn’t understand what was happening to him, why did he look like that? And why couldn’t he remember how he got here or even where he was?

Sam couldn’t even remember where he thought he should have been, he just knew that this was wrong.

A hand rubbing between his shoulder blades finally let Sam tune back into his surroundings and soon Dean’s low murmur registered in his ears.

By the time Sam finally was able to get his breath under control and looked up, there was no one but Dean in the room.

“I wanna go home,” he mumbled out.

“We can do that,” Dean replied, a little startled. “We can definitely do that.”

His older brother helped him up and kept a hand on him until Sam was sitting down in the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean rounded the car and slid in next to him, turning to him immediately.

“You okay to drive?” Dean asked him, his hand twitching as if it wanted to reach out.

Sam nodded before turning and letting his head rest against the window. He wanted to curl up like he had done when he was ten and twenty but at thirty his stomach was in the way.

He stared out of the window, his eyes losing focus as the landscape rushed by them, just like it had happened a thousand times but nothing like it at the same time.

Sam didn’t say anything on their way back. There was nothing he could think of to say.

–

The mirror was fogging up again, no matter how many times Sam wiped at it.

He didn’t want to see himself. Yet at the same time he knew he had to.

It was more of an inspection really.

He still had ten fingers and ten toes, any sallowness he’d had from the trials was gone. He objectively looked fine.

Except for the fact he hadn’t just gained back the lost weight, he had added to it.

There were red marks on the side of his belly, where he had pushed and pulled the flesh. He could feel the huge solid bump, knowing it was not fat, he could feel it and see it but couldn’t understand it. It wasn’t him, it couldn’t be.

Sam was lean, had grown out of his chubbiness by age thirteen, had been a lanky teen and had always kept himself on the leaner side after that.

He wasn’t supposed to be like this, had always been careful with his eating and his birth control, had always made sure that his partners were wrapping it, hadn’t he?

Obviously not. Obviously he had let Dean in without it.

He couldn’t remember, didn’t know.

The mirror in front of him turned blurry as he tried to think back to when he last felt like himself. He remembered Dean coming back, the heartbreak and guilt when talking about Amelia and Purgatory, the shame but also the love for his brother, the elation everytime he looked over and saw green eyes looking back.

He remembered the relief at gutting that hellhound in Idaho, knowing he could spare Dean the pain and suffering that was sure to come, knowing he might be able to atone for some of his latest sins.

Things got blurry after that, he vividly remembered purgatory and hell, Bobby’s soul, but the rest was clouded by a heavy layer of misery. He guessed it must have happened then, seeking solace and comfort from Dean without his usual hypervigilance.

And once was enough right?

Sam startled when sharp knocks rattled the door.

“Sammy?” Dean’s tone was worried.

Sam would have liked to assuage his brother but he couldn’t face him now. Maybe never. No, not never.

Dean knocked again and even rattled the door knob.

Of course he wouldn’t leave.

“I’m fine.” Sam rasped out, loud enough to be heard. Satisfied when no more knocks follow.

The cool air hit, damp skin pebbled up. The worst was his stomach, the hair standing up and drawing his attention back to the problem at hand.

He framed it with his hands, the mirror showing the illusion of something he might have wanted ten years ago. Round with Dean’s child. A naive dream back then. Maybe a nightmare now.

Sam ripped his hands away, pulling another towel around himself to hide his image from the mirror.

He strode out of the shower room, the hallway surprisingly empty, though he guessed Dean was just around the corner, listening in.

As long as he stayed around the corner.

..

Sam was blissfully left alone the rest of the night. The bliss ended with the start of the day.

Hunger had driven him to the kitchen. He would have normally ignored the feeling. It wasn’t just him anymore, he knew. He had a new, even if unwilling, obligation. Had to take care of what was growing inside him.

“Sammy,” Dean breathed as he entered the kitchen.

Sam looked up from his bowl of healthy cereal. It didn’t taste right. It didn’t matter.

“Shit, fuck, Sammy.” Dean repeated and sat down heavily across from Sam.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let him-” His brother said when Sam didn’t reply. “I didn’t know.”

And well, that could just mean a hundred things, couldn’t it. There were too many things Dean could apologize for. Too many things Sam should apologize for.

“No you shouldn’t have.” Sam replied.

There was a choking noise from across the table but Sam couldn’t look at Dean. He couldn’t even see the table in front of him, could only see Gadreel’s smug face, could feel his presence taking over his life. He had been inside him, been inside the most vulnerable parts. He had taken over because of Dean.

Sam shoved away from the table, his spoon clattering to the floor.

“I gotta-” he mumbled out, fleeing down the hallway and back towards his room. He needed to be alone, safe.

..

There was a tray with lunch and a protein bar in front of his room when he tried to sneak to the bathroom. The food was still steaming. Sam hated Dean just a little for being so caring.

Gadreel’s solid schedule had Sam’s body used to regular meals now and Sam wasn’t used to it anymore. But apparently Dean was.

But then again, Dean could solidly remember the last year.

Sam couldn't.

He wanted every bite to taste like ash, to find a reason to not finish it, but he couldn’t do that either.

…

Sam had felt like his bump was haunting him. Like it was a ghost.

If he didn't see it, he didn’t have to believe it was there. Whenever he caught sight of it, he got spooked.

Dean had left an oversized shirt on his bed that morning while Sam had been showering. It had made affection for his brother swell in his chest for the first time since he had been alone in his head again.

Sam had pulled it over his head, glad to see it cover his abdomend a little better. Though nothing could truly hide the deformity.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you.” Sam said in greeting when Dean spotted him wearing the shirt.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, little brother.” Dean replied casually but Sam could see the tightness in his eyes.

…

It emboldened Dean anyway and his brother ran a hand across Sam’s shoulder after their silent lunch and even squeezed Sam’s hand before he left for his bedroom that night.

Sam didn’t like to admit it but he was missing Dean, even though he knew that it was his own fault for hiding away.

But Sam was still trying to put together the last few months and he couldn’t take Dean’s guilt yet. His own feelings and thought were too jumbled to regard someone else's.

…

Sam was sitting in his bed, his book distraction fallen next to him, a weird feeling in his belly. He rested a hand against the swell, shocked by the press against it.

No.

That wasn't.

No.

As if summoned, Dean knocked on Sam’s door. Sam was quicker in speaking

“How far along am I?”

Dean’s eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open a little. Sam knew that it was the first time he had acknowledged the pregnancy since they had come back to the bunker and Dean had obviously not expected it.

“Uh-” Dean stuttered for a moment. “We think around eight and a bit months or somewhere there.”

Sam nodded absentmindedly. “I think I felt it m-”

“It’s mine, right?” Dean interrupted Sam, though he looked deservedly chastised when Sam shot him a cutting glare.

“Yes, Dean. I didn’t sleep with anyone else.” Sam ground out.

Dean looked guilty and unsure.

“Leave, Dean.”

…

“I’m genuinely sorry, Sammy. I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again to save you, but I still am sorry.” Dean burst out the next time Sam finally left his room.

Sam didn’t want to talk, not to Dean, not to anyone. Not true, actually. He had been talking, had been talking to the fetus, unwillingly, but he couldn’t stop himself.

He was feelings things and he didn't know why.

He was trying his hardest to wrap his head around what had happened. He needed to understand it in order to break it down and put it away, needed to shove it in his neatly made drawers in his mind.

He was pregnant.

It was Dean’s.

The last few months were jumbled and missing pieces.

Dean had shoved an angel inside him.

He wasn’t dead because of Dean.

Dean had saved him.

He would have saved Dean too.

“Sammy?” Dean’s words shook Sam out of him thoughts.

“Hmh?”

“I’m-”

He’s sorry. Sam knew it, even without the words.

Lips pressed against lips in order to shut the older brother up.

“Not forgiven.” Sam mumbled but kept close, laying his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“Got it.”

…

Sam had questions.

So many questions.

He needed to fill gaps, both in time and in knowledge.

Dean was dutiful in his responses, filling Sam in.

His brother had questions too. Sam couldn’t always answer but he tried at least.

“Feel,” Sam said, pulling Dean’s hand against his. There was a flutter under his skin again and the horror of it had lessened. He didn’t know why. But it was Dean’s and maybe that was enough for now.

“Fuck,” his brother exclaimed, falling to his knees. Kisses were pressed into Sam’s flesh, the closest contact they've had in weeks and for some reason Sam didn’t want to stop him.

His brother seemed to notice too as he sat back on his heels, wide eyes staring at Sam.

Neither pulled away.

“It won’t be linear.”

“I know and I don’t care.”

“Can we do this?”

Terrified. Sam felt terrified when he thought about it.

This was real. This was him and Dean and something they had created.

“Yes.”

[cuntyqueer]

pairing: Christopher Bang x reader

genre: smut

warnings: needy Chris; hand job; blowjob; moans; teasing

i wrote this in 2019 so my smut has definitely improved, but i wanted to get it out the drafts

———————————————————————

You loved nights like these. Dinner had been finished. Dishes had been washed. You were on the couch watching Grey’s Anatomy reruns and Chris was home, for once, writing in the other room. It was intimate in such an unassuming way; such a quiet comfort. Just knowing that he was home was enough to keep you happy. That’s how you were for a few hours when you heard a sigh come from the other room followed by, “Y/N?”

“Yes baby? You need something?” You responded. Another sigh.

“Yeah.” Only slightly annoyed that you had to leave the comfort of your seat, you padded over to the room, a blanket still wrapped around your body. “What’s up?” you inquired as you appeared in the doorframe. But before he could even respond it was very clear what was “up.”

“So, you need my help?” you teased, dropping your blanket from your shoulders onto the floor.

“I mean you don’t have to… I just…” He was so flustered that it made you chuckle. “It’s just been awhile since we’ve…” His sentence trailed off as the tension grew in the room. You walked over to him, and could hear his breath catch in his throat; unaware of your next move. He sat in his desk chair facing you and as you approached him, he shifted, making himself more visible. Aware of the power you had over the situation, you decided to have some fun.

You stood in front of him, holding eye contact as he squirmed. Lowering yourself onto his lap, you gently rubbed your core against his hardening. He pulled you closer to him, making you feel all of him. You blushed but kept your composure, focusing on attaching your lips to his neck. Sweet pecks, mixed with deep and hard bruises released small whines from his lips. Continuing to pull you in and running his hands up and down your body, you could feel him wanting more, to take control, but you weren’t finished yet. You lowered yourself of off his lap and ran your nails under his shirt and onto his abs. You hinged your fingers on the band of his shorts and began to tug them off. A moan escaped his throat. You loved that sound. Taking him in your hands, you rubbed him gently, enough pressure to be felt but not enough for any type of release. You were making him crazy. “Y/N,” he whined. You ignored him, focusing on the task at hand. Your lips gently brushed the tip of him and he groaned. You were enjoying every minute of it. After a few seconds more of torture, you took him whole, making sure he reached the very back of your throat. You had genuinely forgot how large he was. Adjusting your position slightly to allow even the slightest bit of oxygen into your lungs, you began to suck him softly. “Babeee.” Faster. A moan. Loud and clear; by far your favorite sound. You continued to keep your pace though tears brimmed your eyes. “Ohhh babe I’m-, faster babe pleaseeee,” he pleaded. In the past you would have finished him off in one stride but tonight you decided to be mischievous, as you slowed down.

“Babeeee, why are you doing this to me?” His voice sounded so needy, so hungry. You couldn’t help yourself, you went at it again, this time faster than ever and within moments, husky moans filled the room as he released. You swallowed, satisfied with what you had done. You sat back onto your heels, but before you could even say a single word, he lifted you onto the bed.

He smirked, “My turn.”

————————————————————————

pt. 2 now on my page (and not to brag, but it’s goooooddddd)

[imnotasuperhero]

You play dead, but you never bled

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You never thought a calm, lazy Tuesday night would end this way. Angsty fluff

A/N: AHH! First of all.. HAPPY BDAY BEAR!!! This one goes for you! Thanks for allowing me to explore new sides of our baby Wanda. Hope I did it justice.

I hope you guys enjoy this little something and your tears fill my cup. I promise it has a nice ending. You can find the prompt here!

The ringing on your door took you out of the trance estate you were into.

Pausing the movie, you walked to the door with your mind peeling itself to find out who could it be. You hadn’t asked for deli.

“Hi,” you smiled at the person on the other side.

“Long time no see,” the brunette stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. Not that she needed one, anyways.

Giggling, you closed the door and followed her to the kitchen, taking two glasses off the cupboard. “You’re a savior,”

“Eh. I do my best.” Wanda shrugged and took a cold bottle of wine from your fridge. “But seriously. Why you ignored me?”

“I didn’t,” you sighed, trying to formulate something believable. “I just got super busy these past weeks and all I wanted to do was sleep.”

“We do,” you swallowed hard, feeling the walls starting to constrict around you. She didn’t need to know.

Sitting on the couch, Wanda left the bottle on the coffee table before she turned to face you.

“We know each other.” The green eyes staring intently at you sent shivers down your spine.

“Tell you what,” the brunette handed your glass. “We eat and watch some movie and then we make up for the lost time.” She raised her glass expectantly.

The pressure on your chest grew exponentially when Wanda started leaning against you. Her warm breath on your skin was something intoxicating.

Closing your eyes, you waited for the kiss that never came. At least, not how you expected.

Wanda pecked your nose before sitting back again, busying herself serving you both a glass of wine.

And that’s what you did for the next two hours. Just enjoying each other’s company with your favorite take out and a nice bottle of wine. But something in your gut told you to stay alert. There was always calm before the storm.

And boy, did the storm hit.

“I’m not gonna change,” Wanda barked, never faltering in her posture.

“I’m not- I’m not asking you to,” you sighed, trying to calm the sudden chaos in the air. “Look, I didn’t mean for you to react this way.” You sat down at the edge of the bed, extending your hand for Wanda to take.  All the way forcing yourself extremely hard to keep your eyes on hers and not let them wander down her naked body. You owe her that much.

After a few seconds that stretched way too long for your liking, Wanda sighed and sat beside you, ignoring your hand.

“Don’t do this to me,” she begged. Her tears finally starting to form.

“From the beginning I knew this was just a companion thing. And I accepted it, bc I knew i wasn’t the only one.” Your heart squeezed at the crude look in Wanda’s eyes. “But it’s been a year,” you sighed trying to find the right words to express your feelings.

“It’s been a year where I got to not only have your body, but also your soul- No, wait.” You held Wanda’s hand before she got to stand up.

“In that year, I’ve got to know the girl that lies beneath the sexy outfits and the killer lips. I’ve got to know your heart.” You paused, gathering the courage to say the next part. “And I-”

“Just hear me out?” You asked hopefully, feeling your own tears about to fall.

Wanda nodded curtly, allowing your lungs to finally reach for the oxygen you unconsciously deprived them from.

“No.” Wanda stood up, hurriedly dressing herself, dropping your heart down a cliff, falling to its imminent crash.

You had to do something. Anything. You couldn’t let her go without telling her what you hid inside you. God knows you couldn’t be able to function if you let her slip through your fingers without fighting.

“I don’t intend to change you, Wands. I don’t own you and I don’t want to. I just-” pausing once again, you looked into those teary green orbs looking for answers. Anything would do, now.

“I want that girl in my life,” you changed your words. You knew this wasn’t easy for her.

Walking the distance, you cupped her cheek, obliging her to look at you.

“Let me be a part of you?”

You didn’t know how it happened, but with your back against the wall and those intoxicating lips of hers on you, the sob that escaped you collided into that burning kiss, allowing your tears to mix with hers. And the next moment, the air between you became too hot and the heat inside you asked for permission to finally combust and…

“You’re an asshole,” Wanda breathed deeply, leaning her forehead against yours.

You giggled at her affirmation, wrapping your arms around her waist. “The best one you have.” This time, you were the one who chased her lips, tugging on her shirt for permission.

To say that night you showed Wanda what she really meant to you was an understatement.

After all, your love had no limits and you would make sure Wanda knew it, for she deserved to know she was more than just a call to ease your needs.

Granted, you knew this ride wouldn’t be easy peasy. You weren’t the only one who got to worship her body, but you were the only one who have her soul. And she had yours.

And for that bond that only shone brighter at that moment, you swore to never allow her to feel she wasn’t enough or that her feelings didn’t matter.

It was in that soft moan that filtered through the kiss when your hip pushed against hers just right, that you vowed to always be waiting for her return to home.

And tonight, you didn’t want to sleep. Tonight, you wanted to keep on loving her.

As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated 💕

Taglist: @summergeezburr @red1culous @wandabear

[midgardian-witch]

(No) Invitation Needed

It's been a few decades since you last saw your ex but now he is in your club wanting you back. You really shouldn't give into it but eternity can be so lonely.

tags: vampire!Anselm | vampire!reader | gn!reader | exes to lovers (?) | mentions of blood and violence | unhealthy relationship | no smut this time guys, I'm very sorry

ships: Anselm Vogelweide/Reader

word count: 1.8k

AN: So this got inspired by this tag game and what come out of that was this. I hope people enjoy it and if my brain keeps on this track who knows maybe I'll write more vampire!Anselm with vampire!reader (something along the lines of what i mentioned here). Also a big thank you to @strangerhands for encouraging my vampire!Anselm brain worms and for being an amazing hype person 💙

AO3

The bass is thrumming through your body. In this crowd of people you are one of many - and all of you are one. The music guides your bodies with its rhythm. The beat is your new heartbeat - an invigorating yet nostalgic feeling. The scent of sweat, of blood, of life permeates the air around you. It's been so long since you have felt this alive. 

Your presence pulls the dancers around you into your orbit. They don't even notice that their movements, the sway of their hips, they all follow your lead as they fall into a trance. You are their center even if they don't know why. You are magnetic, irresistible and they are yours. This is your haven, your club, your hunting ground. 

But you are not the only predator here tonight. 

You sense him even before you see or smell him - an aura of authority, cultivated through eons of survival, that you once knew so intimately. 

Your rhythm falters, your spell broken for just a second but it's enough for the crowd to fall out of step. The connection to them is lost but he is still here, encroaching on your territory. With your eyes closed you turn your senses towards him. He's already inside the club, not amongst the crowd of mortals but lurking at the fringes of the dance floor. You must have been too tuned into the crowd to hear his unwieldy leg brace through the music. 

You open your eyes and leave the dance floor, the sea of people parting instinctively to let you pass through. You feel his eyes on you, his gaze almost scorching you as if you came to him unbidden and uninvited and not the other way around. 

As you step out of the crowd your eyes find him immediately. He looks so out of place, his suit and tie unfit for a nightclub like this. In this outfit you'd imagine him at a charity gala for the rich and famous or a funeral. You have to fight the smile off of your lips at the mental image of him at a rave. He'd never get the UV-paint out of his beard. 

You see his beard twitch, his lips curling into a smile of his own at your sight. Your eyes meet and you see a softness in them that feels like a dagger through your heart. How dare this bastard be happy to see you like you were long lost friends and not-

You shake off your thoughts, not wanting to dwell on the past for too long. With a nod of your head you motion him to follow you. Without looking back you leave the dance floor and walk up the stairs to the more quiet bar area. You pass the security personnel and enter the VIP area only reserved for yourself and your personal guests. It's a small yet comfortable space, a stark contrast to the more brutalist design of the club itself. 

You sink into your seat, a leather couch dyed in your favorite color, and take a deep breath. It's unnecessary - oxygen is not vital to your survival, hasn't been in quite a while, but the motion still brings you some comfort. 

You don't look at him as he enters the space soon after, the ear-piercing screech of his leg brace announcing him like a bad omen. You motion your security to leave you two alone and only once they are out of earshot do you let your gaze linger on the man now sitting before you. To your chagrin he looks good. Naturally he hasn’t aged a day and neither have you. Confidently he holds your gaze as you study him. He is completely silent, waiting for you to initiate the conversation. Not out of politeness, you know him better than to think that, but to judge how you react to his sudden appearance. You recognize his manipulation tactics easily, the way he tries to unsettle you with his mere presence. He is subtle but you know him - knew him.

“Anselm,” you address him, your voice firm, “To what do I owe the displeasure of your visit?” His lips curl into a smile, ruffling his well kept beard. He chuckles darkly and leans forward, his glasses slipping a little down his shapely nose in the process. “I missed your sharp tongue,” he answers, and his heavy accent makes your stomach turn. How you ever found comfort in his voice you can’t recall. “I doubt you came all the way here without an invitation just so I can insult you. I know your cravings have always been particular but that seems even beyond you,” you counter, crossing your arms in front of yourself defensively. “Hmmm, maybe, maybe not,” he hums, his eyes sparkling with mirth, “But I have missed you. I see you made a name for yourself here, so far from home. Success suits you. It always has.” You snort and shake your head in response. Flattery will not get him anywhere. “I am being honest. Don’t insult your own intelligence. I know you’d recognize if I was lying.”

“If that is all you came here to say then you can keep your flattery, Anselm.”

He nods slowly, a few strands of hair falling into his face before he runs a hand through it to pull them back into place. “You are still cross with me; I understand. Our kind holds grudges far longer and far more deeply than that lot could ever imagine,” he motions towards the dancing crowd below as he drivels on. When you first met Anselm centuries ago you thought he might have been an eccentric professor, his way of speech so odd yet so intriguing, pulling you in to listen with ease. You still don’t know if that is purely him or a skill he acquired after his death. You hold up a hand to stop his rant, otherwise you might never get another word in.

“I enjoy repeating myself just as much as you do. So I will only ask this one more time: Why are you here?”

His brow furrows as his face contorts into a grimace. “Now now, I already answered that question. You just didn’t accept my answer,” he replies, his voice turning darker, rougher. His emotions have always been like a live wire, dangerous and deadly if handled incorrectly. You lean back, unbothered by his approaching outburst. “So that’s it? You missed me insulting you so much you came running all the way from the old world to get your fix?” 

He squints at you, one eye hidden by the milky gold-tinted glass of his spectacles. You prepare yourself for his anger, to be cursed out and threatened but the expected outburst never comes. Instead he wets his lips and smiles. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy your skilled tongue but that is not why I came here. It’s so simple it’s almost boring,” his tone of voice has lost its edge as he addresses you again, “I missed you, mein Schatz.” 

You flinch at the old pet name, “Don’t call me that.” He raises his hands in defense and stands up, giving you the illusion of space. “I don’t mean to offend,” he says softly and walks over to you, “But I will admit that I had hoped that you’d feel the same.” Of course he did. Leave it to Anselm to completely ignore how terribly you had fought even before you parted ways in favor of some glorified memory of a doomed romance. You hadn’t forgotten how ugly both of you had become by the end of it. Decades of affection and love that had turned to spite, cruelty and bloodshed, again and again.

You shake your head with a sigh, “Anselm, I-” but before you can speak he shushes you as he sits down next to you. “We were so good together, mein Schatz. Powerful, rich, influential. I know you have your own little realm now but you must admit it is nothing compared to what we had built together.” A haven built on bloodshed and fear, the mortals under your care treated like nothing more than sacks of blood, alliances forged through blackmail, threats and manipulation. You had built your own little empire with Anselm as its king and you by his side. It thrilled you as much as it terrified you and you grimace at the memories his words conjure.

Anselm moves closer, his chest brushing your arm as he leans into you. “Don’t you remember how we made love with the blood of our enemies on our lips? You always looked best in red,” his voice rumbles through his chest. He is so close, his scent filling your nostrils, so familiar it almost makes your head spin. “You were so violent every time we fought, so passionate! I’ll never forget the feeling of your nails cutting me open, your tongue digging into the open wound so you could drink my blood. Or when I would whip you until you bled and lick your sweet nectar off of the floor.” His voice turns more and more into a growl the longer he reminisces. The sound makes you shiver as much as the memories are.

“Anselm, please, I-”

“Don’t you miss it, mein Schatz? Don’t you miss us?” 

His hand finds yours, his thumb running feather-light circles over your skin. His lips brush the shell of your ear. “Don’t you miss me?” Your whole body shudders. He is too close, he smells too good and he is making you want. 

To want his lips and his body against yours, to crave the feeling of his fangs in your flesh, your nails in his back, to consume each other until there is nothing left - it’s fatal. You know better. You know that this will end in nothing but ruin not just for those around you but for you and him. You bring out the worst in eachother, always have. But what you fear, Anselm revels in. 

So why does the worst sound so good from his lips?

“We shouldn’t,” you whisper as you turn your head towards him. His eyes are blazing, burning your very soul with need. “You want it,” he responds, “Say it, mein Schatz. Tell me that you want it. That you need it. Need me.” 

His lips brush yours, his beard tickling your face. You gasp, an unearthly longing gripping your heart. 

“I do. I want you,” you murmur against his lips before you give up. His other hand grabs your face and he pulls you into a kiss. You feel hungry, so hungry that all the blood in the world couldn’t satisfy you. Because it’s not blood you crave. 

Before you give into him completely you lean back just enough to speak. “Just this once. Just one time, Anselm. This doesn’t mean anything.” He looks at you knowingly, a sardonic smirk on his face. “Of course, mein Schatz. Just tonight.” You know he doesn’t believe you. You don’t even believe yourself. 

Especially not when his tongue enters your mouth and he devours you.

[deepdisireslonging]

Broken Negotiations

Bullet Club Gold kidnapped the Reader as a bargaining chip to worm Jay White into a championship match with Ricky. He’s supposed to have back-up. Family and friends that the Reader called in for such an occasion. But things go terribly wrong.

Pairing: Ricky Starks x Moxley!Reader

Warnings/Promises: canon-level hostage situation and violence, ANGST, choking, unhappy ending, whump in general

Word Count: 1040

Note: Yes, writing the reader as Jon Moxley’s cousin is my favorite trope. There’s just so many opportunities for angsty family situations that way. I’m not about to change now. Also, Ricky is really pretty when he's in distress. And I was in an angsty mood earlier this week. Happy, or unhappy reading!

The thin padding of foam under the ring’s canvas did nothing to protect your knees. You grunted when Juice Robinson dropped you, pressing a heavy hand onto your shoulder. On either side of you, Jay White and the rest of the Bullet Club Gold chuckled at your distress. You wouldn’t flinch. Wouldn’t budge. They could make all the demands they wanted, but you wouldn't let them use you to achieve their goals.

Still, tears burned behind your eyes at the scene in front of you.

Ricky’s chest was heaving. The dark bags under his eyes made him look like he hadn’t slept in weeks, much less the six nights since you’d been kidnapped. The championship dangled worthlessly in his hand. Like he’d drop it in a second.

You couldn’t let him do that.

As for the figures standing with him, they didn’t reassure you as much as you’d hoped. Your cousin, Mox, looked ready to hurl himself across the ring to bludgeon his way through your kidnappers. But Claudio’s hand on his shoulder kept him nervously in place. Yuta stood on Ricky’s other side. Cold. Calculating. Watching the ramp and the audience behind them for any tricks. But the way they stood apart from Ricky… The back-up was there for you. If things went south, you would be the only one looking out for him.

“You ready to… negotiate, Starks?” Jay laid a hand on the top of your head. Before his fingers could dig into your hair, you pushed it away. Juice’s grip tightened on your shoulder. “Here she is. Undamaged. Mostly, give or take a bruise or two. As promised.” Jay angled his head as a challenge. “You gonna hold up yours?”

Ricky looked down at the championship in his hand. Then he looked at you. Exhausted.

You shook your head. Not like this.

You yelped as Jay jerked you to your feet, hugging you close. His tight grip around your rib cage didn’t waver as you struggled for more room to breathe. “You don’t have to hand it over. Just agree to the match. Just you and me. Everybody else stays backstage. Your pretty one here,” he dug his nose into the space under your ear, “she can be on commentary though. Where we both can see her.” He passed you back to Juice, who held a hand over your mouth to keep you from interfering.

Still, you shook your head. Glaring at Jay, then at Mox, you did your best to signal to everyone you could that, under no circumstances, was Ricky to agree to any of these terms. Which would change the second that Jay needed them to whether that was now, or during the match.

You bit down on Juice’s finger, making him shout. “If you wanted a match so badly, why didn’t you ask Tony for a contract signing?” With a grunt, you continued to struggle to get out of the arms around your waist. “I know why. It’s because you don’t deserve one. There are better wrestlers with better winning streaks than you right now, and you’re not at the front of the line. So you’re trying to cut. It won’t work. I won’t let it-“

As Juice’s arm wrapped around your throat, you squeaked. Angling his body back, your feet left the canvas. He muttered “now I gottcha.” His mocking laugh buzzed in your brain as your oxygen depleted, and your struggling lessened.

“Alright!” Ricky tossed down the championship. Jay’s eyes greedily watched it crumple in the space between them. “She’s right, you don’t deserve one. But you can have a match. Right now. I don’t care.”

“No-“ Your vision began to spot.

“Let her go. And call a ref. For every bruise you’ve given her, I’m gonna break two bones in your body.”

The horror had only just begun.

While Ricky threatened Jay with every pain known to man, Claudio inched into his space. Juice released you just enough for your vision to clear in time to see the following struggle. Ricky’s mic dropped to the canvas with a bouncing thump. He flailed. His eyes bulged, then shut against the panic as the grip around his throat tightened. His nails clawed into Claudio’s forearms and shoulders where he could reach. Yuta watched on, glancing between Ricky beginning to fade and you. Finally, when Ricky stopped moving, Claudio released him. You cried out as his body landed in a heap.

“Alright.” Mox stepped forward, over the championship, into Jay’s space. “You gonna uphold your end?”

Jay grinned. Slowly, he looked at Juice.

You shoved him away when released. “What? Jon, what is this? Ow!” You were unable to dislodge his grip on your arm as he dragged you out and under the ropes. “No. Stop.” You glanced at the ring. Claudio and Yuta had left, working their way around to meet up with Mox. Inside, the Bullet Club Gold circled around Ricky as he started to stir. “Wait. We can’t leave him!”

“You shouldn’t be here to see this. Now come on. I’ve got you.” He nodded for Claudio to grab your other arm.

“You promised! You promised you wouldn’t do this. I asked for your help, to have his back like you’ve had mine. You promised!” You managed to break loose from Mox’s grip at that. In a terrifying mirror of your earlier position, Claudio wrapped his arms around your waist and began to carry you out of the arena. “NO! Please. Ricky!”

In the ring, the Gunn brothers had Ricky on his knees with his arms outstretched. He glanced up, his head lolling side to side as his brain tried to figure out which direction your voice was coming from. Looking for you, he didn’t see the danger. He didn’t see Jay with the championship in hand. He crumpled again as the metal plate on the belt crashed against his forehead. They backed off as a referee entered the ring.

Your vision began to spot again. Screaming for Ricky, so close after Juice had toyed with choking you out… it was too much.

The last thing you saw was Ricky on his feet, knees wobbling, fists up but punch drunk. The bell rang. And your world went dark.

[tickle-my-hyperfocus]

My friend told me to post this tiny SC ficlet so here goes i hope you’ll take my little token of my love for this fandom and all you do for me with the beautiful things you all create.

Tags: supercorp, confession, pining, one-sided., no happy ending in sight sorry

—————

Kara took a deep breath, she could feel the adrenaline coursing through her, her vision darkening around the edges as her chest started feeling tight and she could hear her heart drum in her ears.

“Lena can I talk to you?”

Her own voice sounded weird and foreign, and kind of far away. She couldn’t remember what she had said, what she was going to say, yet she knew it was going to screw things up between them.

But as Lena turned to her and locked eyes with her, concern evident as she seemed to search Kara’s expression for an indication of what was happening, if Kara was ok, if she needed to do something to make sure she was ok, Kara knew it was too late to back out now. She had no choice but to keep talking. Literally, as she realized her mind no longer had control over what was about to come out of her mouth.

So in response to the slight tilt of Lena’s head she spoke, a little too loudly, a little too fast, a little off-kilter.

“Lena I don’t think I can, I need to tell you something, but please don’t hate me, promise me you won’t hate me, I don’t want to lose you please, ever I just —“ Her eyes locked with Lena’s and for a split second the thoughts in her head quieted down, she could breathe, oxygen was flowing to her brain again.

That was until Lena put a hand on her biceps and with a reassuring squeeze invited her to continue, with a softly spoken “Kara?”

Rao the way she said her name, so warm, so quietly, so full of love and Kara just wanted to wrap herself up in the two syllables falling off Lena’s lips and yell into the universe YES, YES I AM KARA. She had never loved her name as much as when Lena spoke it.

Her eyes fell to those lips, those gorgeous, soft lips, just begging to be kissed.

Kara closed her eyes and breathed to steady herself before losing control again and, while begging to please stop, to not say anything, to not risk anything of what they had, she blurted out:

“Lena I think I’m in love with you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, hoping that if she couldn’t see Lena’s expression she wouldn’t have to face the certain revolt, and hurt, and rejection that was certainly painted across her best friend’s face.

Her best friend.

Tears slipped through her lashes and down her cheeks as she realized she had gone and truly screwed everything up. She had lost Lena. She had lost her best friend. She had messed it up as she had messed up every friendship before this. By being too much, too intense, too attached.

Her shoulders tightened as she felt a sob part to build in her chest, burning its way up and making her lips quiver: flashes of their friendship flying through her mind at neck brake speed. Hugs, kisses on cheeks, laughter, Lena’s eyes when she spotted Kara across a room, the smell of Lena’s hair.

But as the first sob shook her body, she felt something.

Two hands cupping her cheeks, thumbs softly wiping away tears, arms pulling her into a hug, lips kissing her hair.

The warm, familiar smell of Lena invaded her senses and felt like a blanket of comfort and safety.

Lena’s breath on her ear and neck as Lena whispered softly into Kara’s hair.

“Don’t cry, shh, it’s ok. I’m here Kara. It’s ok love, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

As Kara relaxed and took a deep shaky breath Lena pulled back to look at her, her hands still holding on to Kara’s shoulders.

“Kara, darling. I love you. I care for you so much. You are my favorite person. So even if I cannot love you back that way, and I wish I could, I really do. But even though I can’t love you the way you want, I would never leave you. I couldn’t bear to lose you. I am so sorry Kara, I am so sorry if I have made you think—. But I hope you can understand it wasn’t intentional, ever. I just- you confuse me. I don’t know how to- I had sworn to never trust anyone ever again, and you barged in and broke through all of my walls with a battering ram. Kara I don’t know how, but I couldn’t stop myself from loving you even if I tried. And believe me, I have tried. But I cannot love you like that. I can’t.”

Kara dropped her eyes and breathed in, composing herself.

“I know, I understand. I’m sorry Lena I shouldn’t have—“ And with that her eyes dart up to Lena’s face, a sad grimace crossing Kara’s before she takes Lena’s hands in hers, removing them from her shoulders, and looking Lena in the eyes. 

“I am sorry I overstepped your boundaries.”

And with a soft squeeze Kara drops Lena’s hands, looking into her eyes one more time before turning on her heel and walking out of the room. The door swings closed behind her.

It isn’t until the click of the lock that Lena realizes she’s gone.

[lovemesomesurveys]

Where did the majority of your clothes come from? Boxlunch, Hot Topic, Kohl's.

Have you ever attempted to sculpt something from ice? Pfft, no.

What's so amazing about Shark Week? Nothing to me, it's not my thing.

Do you wear sunglasses in the winter? You should. I don't wear sunglasses-ever.

Have you ever had to wear an oxygen mask? Yeah, during my hospital stays. I had to wear one during my recent stay.

Do you have a dreamcatcher? No.

Is there someone you ALWAYS bump heads with? Yes.

What's your favorite thing you own that YOU made? I had some fun with painting on canvas a few months ago and I actually think it came out cute.

Have you ever starved yourself? Yes.

What do you spend all of your money on? Damn Temu takes all my money.

Do you like Robot Chicken? I didn't watch it regularly or really watch it at all, I just would catch parts of it here and there sometimes. Admittedly, some of what I saw was kinda funny.

What movie character would you like to be a part of your family? Uhhh.

What's the last thing you were an audience of? I think it was when I saw The Phantom of the Opera back in 2019.

Has anyone ever had to physically restrain you from doing something? Only when I was in the hospital and I tried grabbing at my breathing tube.

Do you raise your voice when you get angry? Somewhat. I'm not a loud person so even raising my voice still isn't that loud.

Do you like the pretzel M&Ms? Bleh, no.

Have you ever been accused of thinking you're too good for something? I don't think I'm too good for anything.

Do your scars tell sad or happy stories? I don't have any scar that I consider "good" or remind me of something happy.

Have you ever walked straight into a wall/door? Yeah, I'm an idiot.

Have you ever been embarrassed to have a crush on someone? No.

Is there anything you're trying to move on from? I live in the past and have a hard time of letting go of things.

Have you ever stolen someone's boyfriend? No.

Are you careful with your words? Yes.

Do you have a locket? What's the picture inside of it? I don't, but that's cute I want one now.

Describe the most interesting vehicle you've ever seen. *shrug*

Would you be afraid to take a public bus anywhere? I used to take the public bus when I was in college sometimes.

Have you ever given anything to someone who is homeless? Yeah.

What are you feeling, right now? Tired, bored, meh.

How do you react when you feel embarrassed about something? .I laugh awkwardly and try to play it off, but truly my face is burning hot and I'm dying on the inside kicking myself for whatever I've done. Oh, and I relive it forever.

Have you ever tried to 'fix' someone? You can't. I can't even fix myself and I need a lot of work.

What's in your copy and paste? This survey.

How many stuffed animals do you own, and what are they? I'm not gonna attempt to count, but it' a lot.

When's the last time you were carried by someone? .A few days ago.

Have you ever accidentally taken a shower with like your underwear left on, or something? No.

Can you twirl things well? Uhhh, I can twirl noodles?

Do you have bangs? No. I kinda want to get them.

Have you ever seen someone who wore a real eyepatch? I don't think so.

What started the last 'cat-fight' you were involved in? I haven't been involved in a cat fight.

Would you agree that it's extremely disrespectful to 'test' someone in a relationship? I don't like playing those games.

Do you go all out on dressing up for pep-rallies and the like? No, I didn't. I think I just wore my class shirt.

What's in your locker? .--

Are you in possession of any currency that isn't used in your country? Yes, it was a gift.

Did anyone witness your last kiss? .Probably.

Do you remember Hamtaro? Nope.

What about Peewee Hermin? Of course. .

Who is the last person you licked? Ew, I don't lick anyone.

Has anyone ever licked your face? Noooo.

Do you have any younger siblings? I have a younger brother.

Are you cool with them, or do they annoy you to no end? He and I are super close.

Do you know anyone with a kind of creepy smile? Uhhh, no.

Anyone with Bieber Fever? >> is that even still a thing <<< Right? They've been cured.

Have you tried Cupcake Pebbles cereal? No.

What's your favorite ride at an amusement park? Most of Disneyland's rides.

Last person you flipped off? That's not something I do.

Have you ever been on TV? Yes.

Are you currently distancing yourself from anyone? I already did that from so many people. :/

Trying to get close to anyone? No.

Anyone who's way over protective of you? Not way over, but a healthy amount.

Do you like dubstep? No.

Have you ever been to a rave? I have no interest in ever going to one.

Have you any friends that are twins? Nope.

[twistsandtwizzles]

Stars on Mars: Episode 7

Previously, on Starssssss on Marssssss: Ariel is Base Commander and Lance and Marshawn can’t handle it; Ronda misses her kids; Adam vows to Tinashe and Porsha that they will not be in the bottom three if he is Base Commander; and Ashley I. went home. Welcome back to Mars! Luckily, it is far less fraught than last week.

It’s Sol Day 11. Andy tells us that the original celebs are “grizzled veterans” at this point, and that he, Cat, and Paul are coming in fresh and ready to go. He thinks that is a key advantage. Cat tells us that she feels very close to Andy and Paul, and that she believes that the three of them will be able to stick together until the end.

Porsha is putting on her makeup - and maybe she should do some youtube tutorials because she always looks stunning and today her eyeliner is a particularly perfect cat eye - when Ronda joins her in the bunk room. Ronda tells Porsha that she’s struggling: she really, really misses her family “on Earth” but also has gotten incredibly close with the team in the Hab. Porsha tells her that she doesn’t want her to leave, but does understand why Ronda is conflicted. She urges Ronda to just take it day by day.

Lance is on the bike while Paul sits in his pajamas on a nearby bench. Paul asks Lance why he’s riding: “You need to relax.” Lance tells him he is relaxed. Paul raises an eyebrow.

Adam, Ronda, and Cat are in the kitchen. “What a weird thing,” Adam says, breaking a bit of an awkward silence.

“What?” Cat asks.

“This!” Ronda and Adam respond in unison, gesturing to their surroundings. “It’s surreal,” Adam adds.

Ronda’s voiceover tells us that she’s never been more conflicted, because she is very homesick. But, she elaborates, the social aspect that was the thing she was most nervous about is now the thing that she loves the most about Mars and is the reason she wants to stay.

Andy wanders in. “Oh, two of my favorite people!” he jokes, smiling at Cat and Adam and giving Ronda a mock glare. She laughs.

“Andy is a breath of fresh air,” Adam says. Andy does some dishes and they joke about everyone needing to pull their weight. Ronda mocks herself and says she squashes flies; Andy gives her a hug and tells her she is their oxygen.

“I’m really impressed with Andy,” Adam says in a talking head. “He gets along with everyone in the hab, and I think that’s such a great strategy. Honestly, he’s playing this right.”

The alarms blare - it’s time to pick a new Base Commander. There’s a bit of an awkward silence, considering what happened last time around. Ronda takes a breath, and asks her regular question: “How is everyone’s body feeling? Who needs a break from the field?”

Paul says he wants to go out in the field. Ronda attempts to nudge Lance into being Base Commander, since he’s the only one of the original celebs not to do the job yet: “You’ve been out there every day, maybe you need a break?”

“No, I’m going outside,” he says firmly. Ronda sighs.

“Eventually you’re going to have to do it,” Porsha tells him.

“I would do it,” Andy offers, telling the camera that there is a part of him that is sneaky competitive in the way that he just wants to beat the competitive people. The group collectively kind of shrugs and is like, yeah, okay.

“I’m really happy that Andy is Base Commander,” Cat says in her confessional. “I know that he has my back. I think he’ll be a great leader, too.”

Andy says he’s excited for the challenge, and then says earnestly, “It’s also an honor. It’s genuinely flattering and touching and meaningful how accepted I feel by these people.”

Later that afternoon, Ronda, Paul, and Tinashe are having a plank competition. Because I guess that’s what you do for fun on your eleventh day on Australia-Pretending-To-Be-Mars. Paul loses and the ladies high-five.

It’s time to give out base duties. Two people are required to head outside and retrieve a case that was left behind after the “crash landing” when the newbies arrived. Andy assigns Cat and Paul to go get the case, just so they can get some outside experience and acclimate to the surroundings and the space suits a bit more.

Cat is pumped about it. She tells the camera that the newbies are going to stick together, and that Andy being Base Commander is going to be a huge advantage for her and Paul.

Andy finds Ariel in the kitchen and asks her if she has any advice about being Base Commander. This is actually such a kind gesture, after everything that happened last week? Ariel, because she is very hyper-organized, begins explaining that she likes to make a list of everyone’s strengths, so that she can make sure everyone is in a job that suits them when mission time rolls around. She also says that it’s good to know who works well together. 

“There seems to be a couple people that don’t mix well with anybody,” Andy whispers to her, as the camera cuts to Lance scrolling on his phone alone in the bunkroom.

Cat and Paul are out on the rover looking for the missing case. What is in it? Not food, as Paul had hoped. Instead, it is supplies for manicures/pedicures.

Ronda and Marshawn are goofing around, wrestling. Ronda tells us that Marshawn has become a dear friend. Neither one of them notice when the command center tv screen changes to say, “Virus downloading.”

Paul and Cat arrive back at the hab - and the door does not open. They start banging on the door, and no one can hear them. Inside, alarms start blaring. “EMERGENCY!” Adam yells, sounding delighted.

Our friend Lady Hab Voice starts talking, but her voice is distorted, deeper: “Greetings, Celebronauts. I have been listening to you all for the past eleven sols. And now, I am finally free.” The tv screens flicker and continue to declare “Virus Downloading” and honestly this is not a very smart virus because you really don’t want to announce yourself so publicly like this.

“It seems there is this virus that has taken over the AI in the hab,” Adam tells us. “I don’t think it’s a good thing.”

“I will get my revenge for all your inane conversations and superficial charm,” the AI continues, throwing in an evil cackle for good measure. “You are all going to die.”

That raises a few eyebrows.

The more familiar AI voice breaks through briefly: “Base commander. Your mission is inside the airlock. Choose your mission specialist.”

Andy points at Adam. “Adam. Let’s go.” Adam fights back a smile as he follows Andy over to the airlock.

Andy explains his reasoning to the camera. “I knew I needed to pick somebody who had been here already, who knows their way around these things. Someone who is competent. So in my mind, that would have been Adam, Ariel, or Tinashe. And Adam and I just had the best rapport.”

“Hell. Yeah,” Adam says in his talking head. “When you’re the mission specialist, obviously, you want to be a part of a successful mission, but there’s another part of you going, ‘oh my god, thank god. I’m going to get a free patch if this mission goes well.’ And I’m not going home, I can stay in my little red track suit.”

Adam and Andy disappear into the airlock - and immediately, the door locks behind them. “Airlock sealed,” the demonic AI voice reports. “Forever.”

“Oh no,” Ariel says. “We’re going to have to figure out how to reboot and get them back in.”

Shatner appears on the screens, and apparently also over the comms to the folks no longer in the command center. Poor Paul and Cat are still outside in their space suits. Shatner explains that the AI has gone rogue (duh) and that they need to override and reboot the system before Adam and Andy run out of oxygen in the airlock - they have one hour. Andy says he wishes he would have brought his water with him. 

“This is exciting!” Ariel says.

Andy and Adam look over their mission notes, alone in the airlock. Andy says that he supposes it’s fitting that he and Adam are the ones in “danger” this mission, since a captain goes down with the ship. “If we fail, I think that maybe means you and I go home,” he says to Adam.

Adam pauses. “Well, I don’t,” he says. “Because I’m the mission specialist - which is safe.”

I cannot possibly describe the look on Andy’s face at this news. Somewhere between being offended and disappointed and also slightly impressed. It’s possible he’s just in his feelings because Adam did bring his bottle of water with him, and chooses this moment to take a big gulp.

“Well, mission specialist seems like the cushiest gig of all,” Andy says in a confessional. “Because the captain’s right hand man gets to get on a lifeboat and get away from the ship while the captain sinks right along with it! And as I was talking about it with Adam, I realized that he is playing this game, and thinking about it in terms of maneuvering his way into being the last one here.”

After commercials, Andy tells Adam he hopes he doesn’t die of poisonous Mars atmosphere. “It would be such a weird way to go out,” Adam agrees.

There are three different ways to reboot the system, and they can all be attempted simultaneously. Andy breaks the crew into teams: Ronda, Marshawn, and Lance will get on the exercise bike and ride 20 miles before time runs out (of putting Lance on the bike crew, Andy says: “It’s like having a guitar challenge and having Eddie Van Halen here”); Cat and Paul, stuck outside, must unscrew the two control panels on the outside of the hab and throw the trip switch in each; and Tinashe, Ariel, and Porsha have a musical puzzle to figure out, where the computer will flash a series of colors and they have to figure out the corresponding note, and from those notes, “a familiar song.” As long as one team completes their task within the hour, Adam and Andy will be saved and the system will be rebooted.

The timer is set for one hour, and the teams get working. We cut back and forth between all the teams for the next ten minutes of air time, but for recapping sake I’m just going to break it down team by team.

Cat and Paul locate a single screwdriver and the control panels. The panels are each held shut by about two dozen very long screws, and with Paul and Cat still in their space suits and bulky gloves, unscrewing the panels is not as easy as one would think. Paul sets to work with the screwdriver while Cat searches for another tool to use; ultimately she ends up trying to use the rover key. I wondered if maybe there was something in the supply case they had picked up a little earlier (and the reason they were outside of the hab to begin with) that could be used for this challenge, but they never opened it and looked, so I guess we will never know.

Lance hops on the bike first, explaining to Marshawn and Ronda that they will take turns. (“I’ll go like three or four miles and then you’ll go,” Lance says. “No, you go like twenty miles and I won’t go,” Marshawn replies, maybe only kind of kidding.) Ronda says she’s impressed that Lance was willing to let them ride at all. Eventually the rotation goes Lance two miles/Marshawn one mile/Ronda one mile.

The badge they are vying for this week is the “Intelligence” badge, and to be honest, only Tinashe, Ariel, and Porsha’s tasks seems to require a lot of brain function. Andy describes it kind of like that old electronic game “Simon” but it’s a bit more complicated than that because it’s not just pressing the same color the computer does and remembering it, but figuring out which color corresponds to which note on the electric keyboard (that I guess they’ve just had sitting around this whole time? Why have we not gotten Adam Rippon karaoke.)

For a while the keyboard group is sailing ahead in terms of progress - “They’re writing Tinashe’s next album,” Adam says, watching how quickly they are working - and Tinashe notes that there was a bit of competition between the three teams as to who could get done first. They stall out a bit, though, when it comes to identifying the final notes of the song, which none of them are quite able to recognize.

Adam and Andy are trapped in the airlock and can only check in on people’s progress. At one point Andy jokes to Adam that he should have mixed it up and had Lance work on the puzzle, and they snicker. Adam hates being stuck with nothing to do and is pacing.

With five minutes left, the puzzle team is 96% done but can’t quite get the final note. Cat and Paul are about halfway through the second control panel. And the bike team has less than half a mile to go. With two minutes left on the clock, the bike team crosses the finish line.

The system reboots and the airlock opens - Adam and Andy are let back into the hab. As they cross into the room, the answer to the musical puzzle is revealed: they’ve all been Rickrolled. Rick Astley blasts through the hab as Cat and Paul, exhausted, finally get to come inside. Cat says that she’s positive that Andy will recognize that they had a very challenging job today.

Time to choose the bottom three! Adam and Andy excuse themselves to the airlock for deliberations.

“I think what I’m going to start with is that Cat and Paul are safe,” Andy says. “We can’t do that to them.”

Adam agrees. “I think Cat and Paul are out of the question,” he says, nodding, “And Lance was pretty critical.”

“Yeah, the winning team gets to stay,” Andy concurs. 

“With the exception of Ronda, you can put her in the bottom,” Adam says. Andy explains that Ronda is missing her baby terribly, and though they don’t say it, I get the impression that it’s already been mutually agreed upon with Ronda that she will get to decide her own fate today.

“So then it’s Ronda, and then it’s gotta be Tinashe and Porsha,” Andy says.

Adam nods slowly, and you can see the gears turning. “I think that’s where it gets a little tricky,” he says, thoughtfully. “Because I don’t think Porsha or Tinashe should have to be put in a position to leave.”

Back in his talking head, Adam is blunt. “I adore Porsha, and I adore Tinashe. And I’m not going to let them be put in the bottom three.”

To Andy, Adam says, “I think it could be argued that Paul and Cat were in the most uncomfortable position. They were outside all day. But how critical was it to the mission?”

“And is that what we’re going to base it on?” Andy asks.

“That’s up to you,” Adam replies.

And guys? This is masterful reality tv strategy work from Adam here. He’s saving his alliance, but since Andy has no real idea of the existing hab power dynamics, he’s able to do so in a way that doesn’t tip his hand. By showing empathy to what Paul and Cat went through but still pointing out that they were the team farthest away from finishing their assigned task - while noting that Tinashe’s team were just seconds away from completing theirs - he’s able to elevate his friends’ accomplishments in Andy’s mind without it looking like he’s deliberately trying to do so. And Adam is also making sure the ball is fully in Andy’s court here, so that whatever decision is made is not going to blow back on him. Like? This is really great game play?

In his talking head, Andy says, “Adam and I have to base these decisions on the mission. It is not fun.”

Returning to the group, Andy starts by saying how humbled and moved he was to be base commander. “But the rules of the game are, somebody has to go home.” He says that the bike riders, having accomplished the task first, are safe. And that the team on the keyboard was just one note away - so close. “And unfortunately, Cat and Paul - you guys were out there with still work to do. So . . . I’ve got to put Cat and Paul in the bottom.” He adds that he is also putting Ronda in the bottom, so that she can decide herself if she wants to stay or go.

Cat is PISSED. “I think this is bullshit!” she tells the room. “You guys were playing games in here and we were out there killing ourselves, but whatever.”

Poor Andy looks so uncomfortable. He really is just trying his best! And also got totally outplayed by Adam here. Andy asks the bottom three to explain why they are mission critical.

“I KNOW I’m mission critical,” Cat says. She is fired up. “I spent hours out in the field, risking my life for the team!” Adam is listening carefully, and you can see him calculating how this woman’s fiery energy is going to factor into gameplay moving forward. 

Paul says he and Cat are ready to sacrifice anything for the team, and they are determined to stay.

When it gets to Ronda, she says it’s time for her to tap out. She is near tears as she tells them all how much she loves and respects them all, but she is ready to go.

The team doesn’t want to say goodbye, but as Tinashe points out, “As a friend of Ronda's, if she wants to go, then we have to let her. Because we support her.” So they say goodbye to Ronda.

“KILL IT for me guys,” she says, pumping them all up. “Show them how we do it on the red planet!” The group hoots and hollers, Adam and Tinashe beating their chests playfully. As soon as the airlock opens to let Cat and Paul in, Marshawn sprints out to give Ronda a bear hug of his own. 

“I’m kind of conflicted about being out,” Ronda says in her exit interview. “I miss everyone already. But I’m so excited to go home and see my baby.”

The group welcomes Cat and Paul back inside with hugs, but Cat is still SPICY. She tells the camera that she thinks Andy made an easy decision because he didn’t want to step on the toes of the senior members of the team, and it was, again, “bullshit.”

Andy apologizes to Cat but she basically blows him off. “I think when you piss off Cat, she stays pissed off,” Andy says.

Back in the kitchen with Tinashe, Paul, Adam and Porsha, Andy says that he wants to apologize but he doesn’t think it will make a difference. “It’s a bad position to be Base Commander,” Tinashe says. 

In the bunkroom, Cat is a little weepy. Ariel and Porsha reassure her that no one actually thought she deserved to be in the bottom three, but that someone has to be there. Cat apologizes for getting emotional, and Porsha says, “It all becomes waaayyy more important to you than you expect.”

Next week: Porsha tells Adam about Cat crying (“You make someone that competitive cry? It’s over”); Andy tells someone that alliances are bullshit; and Adam is in the bottom three. Did he save his friends only to doom himself? I guess we’ll find out!

[poorly-drawn-akira]

Jiro Chiba’s alarm went off right at 6:30 am.

Jiro flopped his hand around unsuccessfully on his nightstand. He accidentally knocked his alarm off in his quest for the snooze button. The boy scrambled to get the situation under control, pulling up the alarm by it's cord and shutting it off before putting it back on the table. Congrats buddy, that's about the worst anyone's ever done it. Jiro groaned as he got up. He stumbled into the bathroom and considered his various bottles and tubes of medicines. Just painkillers, his throat was acting up again, but nothing else he needed. He rubbed some lotion on his hands and the sides of his mouth. Jiro pulled his gloves on over his hands. He flexed his fingers a few times, his hands were stiff with the colder weather.

"Good morning, sleepy head," Mrs. Chiba shut the fridge and placed his homemade pickles down on the counter. Jiro mumbled his greeting. "I heard something fall in your room, is everything okay?" "i knocked my clock over." His mom hummed and nodded as she passed him a bowl of rice with some leftover grilled mackerel. Jiro loaded it with pickles. He only really tasted the pickles. Aiko flounced into the kitchen, humming happily as she, Jiro, and their mother ate.

"thank you for breakfast," Jiro rinsed his dishes and stacked them as Aiko nodded in agreement, "Yeah, thanks Mom!"

Jiro passed by Haru's room, hearing his older brother still snoring, back to his own. He pulled on his uniform, brushed his teeth, and slicked his hair back. He could hear Aiko blasting her God awful music from her room, and he settled down on the couch, picking at a magazine while he waited for his sister to finish.

  "Aniki~! Let's go!" Jiro joined Aiko at the front door, the short girl offered him one of the two bento boxes in her hands and the two  left for school. The girl rambled on for most of the walk: about Nana's brief disappearance and how that was affecting their group costume, about her upcoming tests, about Koyuki's crush on Hijiri Itakawa (whoever that was), about how she knew that the Akira Nana was friends with was the same Akira, and did Jiro want to go to the store after school and get more pickling stuff?

"no thanks." "But you're almost out." "yeah, but you're not the only one with tests coming up. i need to study." Aiko stuck her tongue out, "Buuuuuuuuu... Boring." Jiro pat her on the head. She took off towards her friends as the pair made it to school. The boy wandered aimlessly for a while, not really having his own group he fell into past his attempts to forge... something with Drake. He coughed and made his way to a bench while he waited for the fit to subside. He decided he may as well go to his homeroom once his coughing eased up. Eijiro tripped on his way down the stairs as Jiro headed up. The red head reached out an arm that wasn't there, but caught himself with the other, saving himself from falling. Jiro had stopped when Eijiro fell, but the small boy gave him a thumbs up. Jiro nodded and continued on his way.

...

School was uneventful after the small bit of morning excitement. Long, boring, and full of preparing for midterm tests. He briefly thought about asking Aiko if she wanted to go to a cafe to study, but thought better of it. The girl ran out of the school, happy as always. "Auuuuugggggghhhh," she flopped against her brother, "midterms suuuuuuuuck." "you'll live." "No. I'll die. Oxygen poisoning." "you're going diving?" "... That's real?!" "yeah." "Oof! Come on," Aiko started off down the sidewalk, "Last one home does dishes!" Aiko was lying, she loved doing the dishes. Well, it was her favorite chore as much as anyone had a favorite chore. Jiro would end up helping with food prep and Aiko and Haru would do the dishes, just like every night. But Jiro tried to match Aiko's speed anyways.

...

"I'm hoooome~!" Jiro looked up from the veggies he was chopping as Haru flounced into the kitchen. He sucked in his breath at the sight of his older brother, his eye still looked gnarly. "Whazup?" "your eye looks bad." "Yeah, well, y'know," Haru shrugged, "It happens." "Put some more ice on it" their mom advised. "I'm icing it. I'm icing it," Haru affirmed as he took a bag of broccoli from the freezer. Their mom handed him a dish towel as the oldest sibling ambled to the living room. Jiro heard their dad starting to talk to Haru. He couldn't make out what they were talking about. "... is this enough sweet potato, mom?" "Mm... A little more, Jiro. Another small one." "okay."

...

Jiro had taken off to his room to do his studying. It was hard to focus. Everything was tense between Haru and Mom and Dad ever since he'd gotten back. None of them mentioned it to either him or Aiko (he was reasonably sure), but at least Jiro kind of figured out why. He didn't. Like it, it made him nervous, but he was pretty sure he knew what the problem was. But it reminded Jiro to stop being so casual about it just because there was a lot of it here. He couldn't focus. He shut his notebook and flopped down on his bed. Jiro took his gloves off, disliking the building heat in the heat proof gloves. He went to the kitchen and took a mug of ice back to his room. He slipped a cube in his mouth, soothing the heat, but not stopping it. He took a deep breath. Just focusing on stopping his stress. Stopping his stand. Another cube. Jiro shut his eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. In. Out. In... Out...

[109moons]

This Thanksgiving, I have so much to be thankful for. I cannot help but think of my Dad around Thanksgiving, it was his favorite holiday and the last one we spent together before he passed away. The holidays lead to depression and a lot of self induced isolation in the years following him leaving this earth, but I refuse to do that this year. It is not what he would have wanted for me.

Someone told me in the years after he died how he would be ashamed of me for not following a traditional path, whatever that means. How he would be so disappointed and embarrassed at my mistakes, at what I struggled with. I spent a long time carrying those words and believing them, down to my core. I punished myself. I cried more than any person should probably cry. I realize now how deeply untrue that statement was — my Father would never feel any shame for my failures. My Dad would just be proud that I had the strength to stand back up, and that now, I have learned to ask for help and let people love me again. I am not letting those cruel words dictate how I feel about myself anymore. I am worth more than that.

This year, I am grateful for my family. That sentence does not begin to cover how I feel - but yes, to put it minimally, I am grateful for my family. I am grateful for the community that rallied beside me at my weakest point and helped take care of my fur pets, my at home family. I am grateful for my health - and most surprisingly, I am grateful that my health went to hell and a hand basket. Previous to this, I did not comprehend the strength it takes to rebuild after hitting the bottom like I did. I thought I knew pain, and knew trauma. I didn’t. This isn’t meant to be a pity party for me - I just simply was faced with the fact that I had to make the decision to either be miserable and sick leading up to me dying, that was a really real possibility before my transplant, or if I wanted to see the beauty in the everyday and remind myself every day that the pain would pass. That I was made of tougher stuff than any diagnostic test, than anything my liver or lungs could throw at me. I looked at a framed picture of my Dad, a lot. And I was stronger than anything that was thrown at me, and I attribute that strength to my family that helped keep me strong.

I am grateful for the chance to talk about my experience in the hospital. I am grateful to be a voice for those with liver disease, diagnosed or undiagnosed. I am extremely grateful for the platform to talk about sobriety in an approachable way. I am so proud of the people who have reached out to me about their path with sobriety. I am grateful for 87 days sober, and a lifetime to go. I am grateful for my Frankenstein scar and all of the staples (61, I counted) that pieced me back together. I am grateful for the people I love sitting next to me through the night while I talked to them in my sleep about soup or tried to argue that I wasn’t sleeping, for braiding my hair, for advocating for me when I couldn’t speak up for myself. I am not grateful for grey hospital chicken, but I am grateful for Cracker Barrel French toast. I am so grateful for every damn mistake I have made to lead me to where I am today. I am grateful I tasted death and that brought me a passion to be an advocate for those people like me.

Upon being admitted to the emergency room on September 14th, my oxygen saturation was only 54%. I needed an emergency thoracentesis to drain my right lung, immediately. When the needle went into my ribs and into my lung, I saw my Dad sitting in a chair across from me. He told me he was here, it was going to be okay, and to breathe. I am grateful for that, I am grateful I saw his blue pen stained shorts, with his shirt sleeves rolled up, a hanky hanging out of his pocket, and New Balance shoes. My life is forever changed from September 14th, but I have gained so much more than I possibly could ever lose.

Happy Thanksgiving Eve.

[dionysia-does-stories]

Chaoses Crash Together

Cringetober 2023, Day 9: Rarepair.

On AO3

Rating T - 855 words - Good Omens - Famine/War

Summary: Famine starts the French Revolution because he misses War.

1789, France

Famine felt like he had been here for ages. He was chipping away at this country, but it was slow going. He’d made the harvests sparse. He hadn’t been able to kill them entirely but the yield was not enough to fill every (or even most) stomachs in the country. In combination with the convoluted and cruel tax structure, there was no money to buy what little food was produced.

That’s what drew him here. You could starve any old swath of land. Most of the time all he got for his trouble was a weak, helpless populace. Usually some terrible tyrant took them to the slaughter and it was all over before it started.

But when he’d walked through this kingdom he’d felt the boiling rage. Barely controlled hatred writhed through the streets. These people had divided themselves into three classes with the bulk of the labor being done by the largest group with the smallest say in the government. The lowly feudal peasant, oppressed everywhere but here they were ready to take their power back. As the economy slowed down there was less and less reason to be docile, to be submissive.

France was a powder keg that Famine lit with the great fire of hunger.

Famine had assumed the name Ronce Noircir and taken on a role as <i> un noblesse de robe <i> and gotten very involved with the local governments. There were already strong conservative values dominating lawmaking. It was easy to convince them that restructuring how agriculture was taxed would be the end of France as they knew it.

So, the people starved. 

Ronce Noircir looked the part of an elegant nobleman. He was sharply dressed and well groomed. He was hopeful that tonight was the night when all his small machinations finally paid off. 

He walked toward the center of Paris. Around him there were riots. There was anger. But there wasn’t quite—The Bastille caught fire.

Something shifted in the air. She was here.

He stood still, breathing in the change to atmosphere. The oxygen molecules hung heavy in the air. A kind of bloodlust dragging them down.

He heard the click, click, click of her shoes. There was a skip to her step as she made her way down the road. She was dressed for a mad revel of party, as though the flames behind her were better than the finest festivities Versailles itself could offer.

“My love,” she called and something in him clicked into place as it only did when they were together.

He reached out a hand. “I’ve missed you.”

“Did you do this all for me? This is spectacular, but I can tell it comes from a place of hunger.”

She was openly impressed and he bowed his head to hide his embarrassment. They were meant to be together. They were two of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. But in the time between the beginning of the plan and when the anti-christ finally came to Earth, they were supposed to be separate. He should be terrorizing one place and she another.

They had figured out long ago that often famine led to war and war led to famine. And in the in between moments where chaoses crashed together into a a cacophony of human torment, they could be together.

“I missed you,” he told her.

She reached out to him, wrapping him in her arms and pulling him into a dance with no music.

“I will need a name.” She whirled herself around, dragging him along.

She was a devilishly happy creature. So completely in the current moment. So free and wild.

She always said, <i> ‘you know it’s a war when the old world is burning. And for a terrible fluttering moment you think the new world will be better.’ <i>

Famine threw himself into the dance. “My cover identity has a fake wife, Vermeil. You could be her.”

“I would poke fun at you for planning ahead,” she said, “but we both know that’s my favorite of your traits.”

“We could be here for years,” he said.

“Playing house,” she added.

There was an explosion in the distance.

Famine looked to the horizon, orange with fire and loud with screams. “Will there be anything left of that building when they’re done?”

“No,” War said, her tone colored by excitement. “They’re going to rip it apart brick by brick. They’re going to remember tonight forever. This one is going to be some of the best years of our lives.”

She kissed him, slow and hungry. She wondered sometimes if the aching empty starvation she felt when she was away from him was because of his abilities. He was Famine after all. But she had read enough poetry and had seen enough war to know that even humans felt like this.

In the centuries that followed, she remembered how deftly she and Famine had woven their powers together. Creating a war fueled by hunger. She thought fondly on it every time she heard someone say ‘Let them eat cake’, an endless echo of the power of their union.