#ive been informed that one is Slightly Insane | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ilyhaitanii · 2 months

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save a horse, ride a cowboy ! ft. boothill

nsfw. you are tasked with the job of investigating a man named boothill who has attracted the attention of the ipc, little did you know, you'd fall for his charms and be caught under his teeth just like those bullets he shot at you a few moments ago

a/n: CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK YEOOOOOCH!!!!!!!!!!!! i need him so bad it's actually driving me insane. he's all ive been to think about for the past few days

there's no way this is happening right now. you dash down the constracution zone of the city, trying to evade your target. he shoots one bullet at you, barely missing your head. you yelp, your lungs begging for air.

you turn the corner, begging and praying you've finally lost the man. just as you press your back to a wall, an arm slams down beside you

"found ya," he snickers. caught red handed, boothill corners you into an alleyway. he towers over you, the sound of his mechanic limbs slightly squeak, causing you to flinch. his hat covers his eyes, but his sly smirk perfectly teases those razor-sharp teeth of his.

"what do we have here?" boothill leans down, his arms caging you into the corner. under him, you feel so small. his large chest plate covering your entire field of vision. he's so close to you that he can practically feel the anxiety vibrating off your body.

"please don't hurt me! i'm sorry, sir please!!" there's saliva pooling under your tongue as you try your hardest to stammer out an excuse. you're not even an ipc executive-- your just some lowlife who is in debt to them.

"wanna tell me why you're following me all the way out here, dollface? saw you at the entrance of the hotel." his metal thumb making contact with your bitten lower lip. the cold has you trembling under him, fearful for your life. "y'er not that good at tailing," the galaxy ranger chuckles.

"i'm not tailing you, sir. please, i'm sorry," your voice is so low, so timid. you were such a curious little thing when you were tailing him. the contrast has boothill chuckling. he hums, rubbing his thumb across your soft lips.

"we both know that's not the truth, so let's try that again. why's a pretty gem like you tailing a man like me?" his lips curl into a sadistic smile. a shiver crawls up your spine at his expression. there truly is no way of getting out of this, is there?

"i was sent by the ipc...please don't hurt me!" you try your best to squirm in his hold, but boothill's leg between yours keeps your pelvis in place. he lets out a whistle,

"is that so? how sad. what're you look to find?" his thumb does an especially rough drag on your lip, before gently soothing the skin. you wince, eyes screwed shut.

"they want to know why you're here, sir. i'm just an informant, please?" he laughs again before pulling away from you. boothill's fingers are quick to wrap around your wrist as he tugs you along with him.

"mm...well in that case, i'll send you back to the ipc with a little message. how does that sound?" he looks over his shoulder at you, pitying your pathetic expression.

you dumbly nod as the anxiety in your stomach has reached an all time high, sensing this, boothill speaks,

"don't worry, i don't hurt pretty things like you. it'll be quick, yeah?"

he's rough, almost addicting. the pleasure you're receiving from boothill is almost mind numbing. your thighs are thrown around his hips while his cold hands are digging into your hips. he raises your body up his cock before slamming you back down onto him. your jaw is slacked, voice unable to let out a scream.

"poor thing~" he coos, watching the way your brows furrow in ecstasy. he can feel your hips twitching and cunt clenching around him. his head is laid back on the bed with a hand presses against your lower back.

"atta girl, you got it. come on, baby." boothill finds your struggle amusing. you can barely register his voice, not when his thumb is vibrating against your clit and your nipples are so stiff. he leans himself up a bit, swirling the tip of his tongue against your stiffed peaks.

you mangle out a squeal, fingers scratching against boothill armored shoulders. with your head thrown back, you manage to circle your hips around his cock as he bounces you up and down. a series of curses fall from your mouth when boothill bites down on your nipple. the pain mixed with so many different types of stimulation creates pools of tears in your eyes.

"let go, sweetheart." boothill laughs with his pink tongue peaking out from his lips. the knot in your stomach is so overwhelming and your vision is so blurred. the dizzying feeling finally reaches it climax as you clench around boothill for the umpteenth time and gush around his cock. you cum so hard, your body physically jerks, falling flat against him.

as you come down from your high, boothill smoothes his hand over your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"good girl~ make sure to tell your folks about this, alright? and tell 'em i'll be coming to find 'em too," you don't exactly listen to his words, but when you're sipping on a bottle of soda while walking back to your hotel room, you think that boothill may not have been joking...

fuck, there goes your commission check.

#boothill x reader #boothill x you #hsr smut #hsr x reader #boothill smut #boothill honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #i need this man so bad #LEMME HIT BOOTHILL PLS....

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thepowerisyouth · 2 months

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Eh mental health is annoying. Buying & cooking cheap low-FODMAP diet is annoying. My best top note for now is I'm using this blog to practice writing. I need more practice in it. I only know business, accounting & economics stuff. Its stupid stuff. Theres too much actual fraud everywhere that its annoying

Also I use mobile so formatting sucks cause Nvidia GPUs, or Arch dont like tumblr site. Or tumblr site dont like tumbkr site

Also also I 100,000% support all my fellow ones-and-zeros and their identity. Everyone is welcome here.

Except transphobes/zionist/long list of others but you get it. I'll help harrass any of those types endlessly if someone wants to tag me, and bring me in on an argument like that friend you call for backup with fights

Im unhinged so who's to say exactly what will end up here but this is also a completely public blog to me friends, family, hell, even acquaintances i dont give a fuc.

Blog should be expected to be roughly as child-friendly as simpsons or bobs burgers. But also boring like a civics/economics lesson sometimes. Yay

--------

I (and my husband) am ex mormon. Its a weird thing. Look into it if you havent recently. Realllllyyyy look into. Takes time to figure it all out in this fuckin fucked up world.

I just moved a year ago. Didnt watch the US stock market as much as I normally do. Had my first snowstorm 10 weeks ago, that was.. fun to handle while ill prepared. About 6 weeks ago I was hopping back on the market and notice its a huge tech bubble about to pop and all the conditions Ive been warned about my whole career imply this is not good. Just took a little more thinking & digging and I'm a little too confident to stop talking about it now.

(Oh I'm also care-free as fuc so I dont really read or desire to change past posts more than lil-nitpicks. More informative for the reader & myself-in-the-future-reading that way)

And I'm not kidding I do love feedback & questions. Its a very public blog tho so I get that part for sure.

If you search "life story" in my tags I had that pinned for a min Im just moving shit around rn

Being poor sucks. Will write more on that later.

---------------

First of all-- the exact timeline of an "economic shock" is literal insanity. Dont worry about the exact timing of any of this-- just know its doomed to happen soon.

Here are some effects I predict of this upcoming economic downturn

If anyone comes across any sources for these events that support my arguments please feel free to add in comments, reblogs, etc.

This concise list is mainly for my own reference, but it would be great to add to it if any one has something to add!

0.5. US Stock market collapse-- I have no desire to try and predict this one exactly. Too many conspiracies are actually correct about this big guy. Lets just say 7 US Tech stocks are worth 25% of the entire worlds market, roughly. "Too big to fail"-- I believe is the phrase

1. Corporate (slightly later will be residential by extension) real estate crisis: currently way too overvalued. Most of the houses, land, & urban corporate property we see could stand to decrease by about 60-90% from its current price.

2. Bankruptcy crisis: similar to the after-effects of the 70s inflation-- we can expect to see a huge wave of bankruptcies affecting a variety of business: from the micro-self employed; to the small business with leased buildings; to the largest corporations who commit massive accounting fraud & hope to escape accountability in time

3. Bank runs-- there is an extremely high overreliance on the Federal Reserve, who does not have good control over this situation. Once it becomes clear that there is a crisis (we call this a catalyst event)-- bank runs for physical cash are a surety. Hard to say how long a crisis like this might last. I should ask my siblings who lived near the SVB bank crisis hotspot (but those were rich fucks they do their "bank runs" over the phone)

3.5. Global currency collapse, which takes effect in every single local, state, & national economy at slightly different times. This means prices lower. Much lower. But takes time

4. Whatever the fuck the geopolitics is gonna do???. Its weird. You got Russia wanting to invade Europe? (Look at global economic forum 2024) Trump wants to let them. Biden wants to be an establishment corporate ass. North Korea has changed its #1 public enemy to South Korea (dont remember my source but it was a couple months ago). USA is stationing more troops in Taiwan, but probably only because of semiconductor technology?

The scope of our global financial woes are larger than can be explained in any of our lifetimes. Its much, much closer to pre-revolution France or the late 1920s. Big change is coming. Itll be soon

5. More to come

#anti capitalism #economics #geopolitics #real estate #bankruptcy #banks #corporate fucks #pinned post #mental health sucks ball sacks #arch linux #nvidia is a scam bubble like enron #simpsons #bobs burgers #intro post #will change it more later

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dual-fantasy · 4 months

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made a full circle to gen1posting..... i love duncan with my heart and soul but in a way nobody else does. hes awful and he sucks but thats what makes me like him. he dated mal in juvie. him and trent were a thing for like . a week . maybe less then a week . him and alejandro have dated and broken up within the same day at least 8 times. he is actually the boyfailure ever. i think after all stars he left courtney alone to go pursue guys. they left it on a good note they apologized to each other. eventually. he never actually settles down with anyone . at least for a while . the list of people hes dated for less then a week is Expansive . something ive seen Absolutely nobody considering is duncan and justin(dustin ?????) they are so real to me. they do not like each other actually they hate each other but in an absolutely romantic way. they walked so scike could run. i appreciate a lot of duncan ships actually. dunhar is up there with dustin(??) but slightly below it cause of the fandoms interpretation of them. harold is taller then duncan take that information in stride. they are so real to me though they play videogames together they are the gross not at all romantic relationship i need. one i have seen literally NOBODY ever talk about is duncan and owen they are so real. and pretty healthy considering it includes duncan. ..dowen ???? SWEEP!!!!! idk i think people just need to slap duncan and random men together until something sticks more. hes insanely shippable in a surprising way. ive been forgetting to sign off ghhh. GRAVE DOG OUT!!!!!!!

REAL YEAH. I never really cared for Duncan first watch but when I really thought about it he's one of the most entertaining characters. he's literally the worst ever. his entire family is police and he still downright refuses to follow the law. everyone exaggerates how terrible he is. he's literally just a bitch he isn't any worse than anyone else. he keeps a list (habit he picked up from Courtney) of people he dates for less than a week. it is genuinely a mile long. Alejandro is on the list at least 40 times, every single man is listed multiple times.

also Dustin is real as fuck. like genuinely you're such a genius. personally I'm a fan of djuncan because they drive me insane but Dustin is sooo good. also it has a really good ship name. all of his ships are pretty good tbh. you're such a genius and so real

#dw about not signing off btw its all g #total drama #td duncan #td #tdi #total drama island

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quodekash · 10 months

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HELP I JUST LOOKED UP GUMPA'S ACTOR AND HE WAS BEAM IN MLC???

MY DAD IS BEAM???

IM LOSING MY MIND OVER IT

anyway on another note the gang's about to be caught by cops! ✨

oh. never mind sean drove past them. in no world will that have good results.

YOK JUST GOT SHOT

WHY IS EVERYONE GETTING SHOT

AAAAAAAAAAA

i swear if they freaking kill yok im going to find gmmtv and destroy them

stop trying to be freaking heroic, okay, YOU ARE IMPORTANT

DAD HAS COME TO SAVE THE DAY

hes so stressed though

im so scared for yok rn

pls let him be okay

WHY IS THE THUMBNAIL FOR THE NEXT PART DAN'S FACE LOOKING INSANELY GUILTY??? WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED???

episode 8 3/4 of the eclipse, anyone?

i swear that part of the series is just the infirmary interlude of the series

anyway im not watching the eclipse im watching not me

focus, egg. focus.

HELL YEAH, THANK FREAKING GOODNESS

THERE HE IS, OKAY NOW TELL ME: WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED

force like the guy? force jiratchapong? cos if its just him then they're all good, they'll hug it out and be on their merry way.

if it's not him, then they're screwed

WHAT THE HELL

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON

OH NO AND YOK IS CRYING

NOW IM CRYING

IM SO CONFUSED???

AAAAAAAAA

I WANT TO TEAR MY HAIR OUT

WHAT

(and in amongst all this chaos, my brain is still thinking "kinky" because he said "finally you get to arrest me for real")

THIS IS EMOTIONALLY DISTRESSING

dfghj

ghrbdfgh

VHDBFHX

GRDNFHHJXGBJFHDB

PAIN

OH FLASHBACK, FINALLY, A FREAKING EXPLANATION

....

who the hell is this guy?

oh. so we just dont find out who the hell that guy was? is this information i was supposed to know already? i have no working memory, especially not when i probably previously encountered this guy in the early hours of the morning when my brain was shutting down, so i have no clue whats going on rn

im so confused that i cant cry anymore, but this is me internally

this wasnt supposed to happen to my boys

and yet they saved this plot for the side couple??? the side couple is supposed to be my main source of dopamine, but its getting a little difficult when they're arRESTING EACH OTHER

AND HES CRYING TOO

IDK WHAT'S GOING ON OR WHY HE DID WHATEVER IT IS THAT HE DID (or who the hell that guy was) BUT I STILL LOVE HIM AND HIS PRETTY EYELASHES AND I AM IN PAIN

TO DEFEAT

T H E H U N S

but who are you

...no

not even slightly

NOOOO MY DAD IS GETTING ARRESTED

what i dont get is why the only one who was actually properly handcuffed was the one in the wheelchair. why were the others all zip-tied. why wasnt yok also zip-tied. i have questions.

THERE'S AN ADULT VERSION OF YOUR TEACHER SAYING THEY'LL CALL YOUR PARENTS IF YOU KEEP MISBEHAVING???

i dont think its a mistake that the random old guy talks about his parents and then the very next frame is gumpa looking at him disappointedly.

he is dad.

its just a fact

oh !

hello there!

HELL YEAH (what a great screenshot that is)

he looks as confused as i feel

"you told me not to look for you if i wanted no regrets. i should have believed you then." NOOOOO

WHY WOULD YOU MURDER MY SOUL LIKE THAT

I SWEAR IM SO ANGRY RIGHT NOW

ill avenge your beautiful hand and your beautiful foot. ill tear off the legs of every dragon i fight. with my face.

mm mm mm, it's the wings and the tails you really want. if it cant fly, it can't get away. a downed dragon is a dead dragon.

(yawn) alright, im off to bed. you should be too. tomorrow, we get to the big boys, slowly but surely making our way to the monstrous nightmare. but who'll have the honour of killing it?

it's gonna be me. it's my destiny, see?

(le gasp) your mom let you get a tattoo?

it's not a tattoo, its a birthmark!

okay, ive been stuck with you since birth, and that's never been there.

yes it has, you've just never seen me from the left side before!

every moment is the right moment to quote how to train your dragon

anyway that's the end of the episode. uh... that hurt.

#quodekash watches not me for the first (FIRST) time #not me #not me series #not me the series #seanwhite #danyok #offgun #first kanaphan #fluke gawin #off jumpol #gun atthaphan #papang phromphiriya #not me gumpa

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marsbar17 · 8 months

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ph my god please give me crypto x rev content (either sfw or nsfw) ive been. going insane

Since you didn't specify, I decided to do a short one-shot thing instead of just headcannons because I crave coherent thoughts :)

⚠️ Spoiler warning ⚠️

This is gonna include a little bit of the revenant reborn stuff, not really the lore it just is based off the end of the second lore video.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TW: very nsfw, choking, breathplay, aftercare if you squint, almost no communication

Crypto bade the others farewell after their talk and sat back down at his desk, minimizing windows and tabs that had to do with the whole Eduardo stuff. He lingered on one though, something about the workings of Revenants many bodies, and sighed. He couldn't quite figure it out, the way that they could transfer his whole consciousness over between metal frames in a matter of minutes everytime he died. Crypto figured he would get the answer soon enough, he just had to get Revenant back under his questioning.

Before he could dwell on it any further, a noise from his left drew his attention and he turned just in time to get a glimpse of shiny red metal before a cold hard hand wrapped around his throat. Crypto was lifted out of his seat and he opened his eyes to meet glowing red ones. Crypto struggled weakly, the grip on his neck uncomfortable, but all that did was make Revenant chuckle and squeeze slightly.

"Miss me?" Even though his face and body had changed drastically, Revenant's voice was the same as ever, and it caused a shiver to run down Crypto's spine.

But he wasn't afraid. In fact, he seemed to relax after hearing that voice.

"You wish." His voice came out raspy and strangled, restricted by the metal fingers putting pressure on his windpipe. "Now put me down."

Revenant complied and lowered Crypto slowly until his feet touched the ground and he slumped back into his office chair. Crypto put a hand to his neck and rubbed, coughing a bit.

"Even though you got a new look, you still listen to me." He smirked slightly. "Good to know they didn't take what little human emotion you have left."

"I can still kill you, you know. It would be even easier than before." Revenant reached a hand out, dragging his razor sharp 'nails' along Crypto's jaw. Crypto scoffed and batted it away, turning back to his computer.

"We both know you won't." Crypto smiled as he heard Revenant scoff, but the simulcran didn't deny it. "You came at the perfect time," He changed the topic. "I've got some questions for you."

Revenant had moved, standing behind the other with his hands resting on the back of the chair and occasionally grazing the skin of Crypto's nape.

"What? More information for you to tell your little friends? Might as well just tell them everything." Even as a monotone robot, Crypto could hear the sarcasm in his voice. But he ignored it.

"No, just something to satisfy my own human curiosities." He set the tab he had open before to full screen, and let Revenant read his notes over his shoulder.

It was almost embarrassing, admitting that he had been studying the robot. Writing down stuff as simple as the type of joints that were used on his fingers or the way the fabric accessories on his old body were attached to the metal. He wasn't an engineer, and this type of stuff didn't interest him often, but when Crypto looked at Revenant he couldn't help but let his gaze linger on small things.

"Hell if I know!" Revenant's booming voice made Crypto jump slightly in his seat before he refocused on the task in front of him.

"All I know is one second my consciousness fades and the next I'm waking up in the same damn facility. I don't have any more to tell you."

There was a tense silence for a while, Crypto thinking about possible answers and Revenant now pacing the room in his frustration. Crypto could imagine how much the constant toying with Revenant's consciousness could build up some anger, and he often helped the other in these times to let out some of those emotions without going on a killing spree.

"Tae Joon."

Crypto turned, surprised at the robot using his real name. He rarely used it, said it was too intimate.

"I need someone to take my frustration out on."

Yep, there it was. Crypto sighed and stood up, walking into his bedroom like he did everytime Revenant came over. He didn't even have to tell the simulcran to follow, he knew their routine.

"Go ahead." Crypto laid on the bed, taking his jacket off so it didn't get wrinkled. As shameful as this 'guilty pleasure' was, he still had some dignity and wanted to keep himself tidy.

Revenant took his time approaching the other, almost like he was stalking prey. He hummed in approval as Crypto brought his hands up to rest them on the pillow above his head, surrendering himself. And as Revenant dragged one finger from his ankle up and stopped at his thigh, Crypto shivered. His breath hitched and he closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to come like it always did.

He was being unusually slow, and Crypto opened his eyes again to look at him questioningly. He quickly shut them again as a metal hand wrapped around his throat again, sharp fingers digging into his skin but not puncturing it yet. He tensed, but that only made Revenant squeeze harder.

Eventually, Crypto was able to remind himself that Revenant wouldn't kill him and he relaxed into the mattress, letting Revenant cut off his oxygen for 10 seconds, and then let him breath again for 10 seconds.

He hated how it excited him. Crypto's legs twitched slightly every time his breath was cut off, and he whined quietly. It wasn't enough for Revenant though, so he trailed his other hand up Crypto's leg and traced shapes along his upper thigh. He wanted to torture him, bring him all the way to the edge, push his boundaries, and then leave him a mess.

Crypto was expecting pain, and he was surprised when he felt the hand settle on his crotch and palm him gently. He gasped and his eyes shot open, grabbing at the hand around his neck and muttering swear words.

"Revenant, this-"

"Do you want me to stop?" It seemed like his voice was softer somehow, even though it was as monotone as ever. He was being genuine. Like maybe he cared.

Crypto was quiet for a moment, thinking.

"No." He said, looking away and letting go of Revenants arm to put his hands back above his head. Submission. It made Revenant feel even more want to ruin him. So he put more pressure, on both his neck and his half-hard length.

Revenant didn't want to hurt the other, at least not too badly, so he kept Crypto's clothes on. He just let his hand wander all over his clothed body before continuing to palm him through his pants. Crypto could feel as all the air left his lungs, and his eyes rolled back, bucking his hips into the metal hand.

Every time Revenant released his grip on the others neck, Crypto would gasp and moan, the feeling of getting so close to unconsciousness and then being brought right back was thrilling and he couldn't help but whimper as Revenant started to tightness his hold again.

Before he knew it, he was arching his back and cumming in his pants, mouth open in a silent yell as his voice was trapped behind a hand around his throat. And Revenant loved this reaction so much, he made Crytpo cum 4 more times before he stopped palming him. He tried to be as gentle as he could as he rubbed the others' chests while he caught his breath.

Crypto was a wreck, tears running down his cheeks, a wet spot on the front of his pants, and bruising starting to form around his neck.

Once he knew Crytpo was stable, Revenant stood up and left, like he always did. Part of Crypto hoped that he would stay this time, but he knew that wasn't how he worked.

A routine of mutual satisfaction, that's all they would admit it to be.

#apex legends #apex revenant #apex crypto #revenant #crypto #revenant x crypto #gay #again i wrote this in math class #tae joon park #kaleb cross #no beta we die like lobas parents

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blaqueswanzaghouliishiilikeda · 1 year

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I think you’re slightly missing the point of that scene which is at that moment louis believes lestat has actually made the effort to compromise for the family (he doesn’t know yet that Antoinette is still alive) and Louis has agreed to kill people again after both lestat and claudia ganged up on him so as far as he knows claudia IS the only one who’s making waves for no reason. That’s literally what prompts her to expose Lestat’s lie after that though and once he finds out Lestat’s compromises weren’t real he also stops making an effort too and sees her provocations as necessary to getting them out in the second chess scene.

I think reading maliciously into that line is weird when we know at that point Lestat has gone to great lengths to fake his way back into the house and he hasn’t yet been exposed in that scene. Like we can say louis is stupid for believing them but that’s often how people treat victims of abuse (why are you so gullible, stupid, etc) when they fall for their abuser’s schemes.

i’m not calling louis gullible or stupid or any of that though. and i said i agree with the points. i just don’t agree with him. that’s what i’m saying. as a person on the outside who has the information i don’t agree with him.

im not reading malliciousy. it was further abuse to turn to a child who is reacting to abuse shes facing from the same individual and call her ugly. he didnt say i dont like when you do that cause. he is irritable and he gets to be irritable with her in a way that he doesn’t lestat. im not saying he’s choosing sides. ive seen it happen. parents who yell or get angry at the kids for making the abusive parent angry or antagonzing them when theyre gonna be that way anyways. thats why she responds with better angry than foolish or whatever. shes being mean right back. bc she wants to get out. she wants to get them both out and it will only happen if she does something. thats an insane amount of burden on a child. its a thing that happens often. kids having to step in and be the ones who fight against the abuser. and to have the parent who you want to be on your side talk to you like that is really not okay. of course shes being unreasonable. shes a child.

a child who can’t do much more and literally cannot be emotionally mature anywhere near where they are at. i’m asking how many times does louis speak softly and gently to lestat (with good reason due to the abuse) and expect more for the child in the situation. he is abused. and claudia is too. shes facing a unique brand of abuse lestat reserves just for her. and she is angry about that. and she is the one who didnt have a choice but to be there. how can she be the bigger person?

im saying i understand his perspective and still asking but how does that read to claudia? that’s what i was getting at. i have myself pointed out that louis doesn’t see a way out of this. so i know that.

but he also went to get lestat from antoinettes house. that’s where he found him. he believes lestat but thats not bc lestat has been in anyway genuine. at all. and louis has shown himself to suspect and say nothing. that is not me blaming him. that is me saying this is a thing i know he does. i understand why he does it. but why should claudia get the energy you cant give to lestat (again for good reason)?? he even admits to have pretty much already known. when he’s walking back with claudia and says theres no point in saying anything. ive been there. i know shutting down bc of overbearing trauma, but when there’s a child invovled then what? and again how often does claudia get chastised for barking and sniping when lestat chokes the collar he put around her neck? louis believes lestat. claudia has no reason to and does not. louis thinks shes not doing enough after everything she has done. i don't agree with him. i can both understand him and not agree with him. im not in his pov. im a viewer.

so to me. everyone endures and claudia bottles her anger and louis doesn’t do anything and lestat continues on as he does bc there is no recourse no matter if claudia says and does nothing. if claudia is antagonizing him lestat rages. lestat also decides to sit them down at a table where neither of them are saying anything and rage anyways. maybe he was taking out what louis said to him about reading in ep 5 or maybe it was something that happened then but we dont know for sure. the way the scene played out in ep 7 theyre having dinner and he starts yelling at them about books. so then what?? claudia is ugly when she fights back. because she was born of the ugliness that forced her into this position in the first place but only she should feel bad about that? and what about how ugly of a comment that was to say?

what im saying is i don’t like that he said that. and i dont agree. and it makes me angry. it makes me angry bc i know claudia’s position very well.

#louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #iwtv #claudia #mw asks

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femmefatalevibe · 1 year

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hello! ive gone through some of your posts and i gotta say, you give pretty solid advice. i hope your own life is also going as smoothly as the advice giving! ❤

i was wondering if i could ask your opinion, as much as you can offer it to a stranger from the internet.... i know its not easy to give meaningful advice on complicated matters to total strangers.

im 29, i have a very good degree and a decent job, i am not more insane or annoying than an average person and i look just fine. i do however have a problem finding a long term partner. ive been working very hard at uni/later as an intern so it didnt leave much time for a rich social life and lot of dating. i also had the misfortune of spending several years in a very unhealthy relationship when i was about 20, young and stupid. several years of determined singleness followed immediatelly after that.

so now that im old and less stupid, ive tried dating apps, ive tried going out for drinks with acquaintances but never more than 2 or 3 times with the same guy. i do have high standards... and im a smart independent woman which im told is not extremely popular with men. anyway.

i recently met a guy 1 year younger than me who works in the same profession but is only just starting, in contrast to me being a bit of a bitter old veteran. ive been kind to him as one is to new people, and hes been slightly smitten with me as a result, if i dare guess so. we went out for drinks a few times, he seems sweet, kind and doesnt harbor any extremist political beliefs (its important to me not to date fascist-sympathisers). thats all very nice but unfortunately he doesnt exactly look very attractive to me. i feel good around him bc he is kind and lovely but i think i have too much edge and that he couldnt handle my darker sides (lots of cynism, LOTS) bc he is sich a sweet summer child. and i also feel that i havent yet lived wildly and slept around and experienced all the instant gratification options life has to offer, definitelly not enough to just drop everything and consider a serious relationship with someone who doesnt feel like ive won the dating lottery (its bc of certain personal problems hes told me of having, and its bc of the looks. im an impossibly visually-oriented person. and shallow.)

so i am very tempted to slowly explore this and the options it could offer (for example a serious relationship) but i also feel like i might be setting myself up for failure and him for a lot of heartbreak. whatever should i do?

until now ive only ever continued dating people i was really attracted to... sometimes despite their dubious political beliefs. so actually this might be the new strategy that would yield positive results, dating someone for their impeccable moral standards and kindness rather than a pronounced jawline. (am i, deep down, really that shallow?)

this got long and tedious, i wont blame you if you chuck it in the bin instead of reading and answering. maybe all i needed was to write it out. might need to use my journal bit more often.

thank you for your time and efforts in any case. take care!💕

Hi love! Thanks for your kind words and support. Firstly, from how you describe yourself, I could totally see us being friends – we seem to have similar beliefs, values, and priorities when it dating comes to dating (no fascists allowed, career-oriented, endless cynicism, and making a pronounced jawline a top criterion of a date night lol).

Here's my take – given the information you so kindly and vulnerably shared with me:

If you're still single, there's no reason to make the prospect of dating (generally or casually dating a specific person) into a black-and-white experience. You can casually date as many people as you would like until you mutually decide to be exclusive with someone. Think of dating as a networking experience: It's a chance to meet and connect with various types of people. They can become (business or pleasure, in this case) partners, friends, acquaintances, or connectors to others who will soon become members of your close inner circle (maybe even a further partner or spouse – who knows!).

You can decide to date different people for different reasons. Sometimes, you just want good conversation and decide later that you're better off as friends. Exploring the emotional intimacy aspect of a relationship with someone of the gender you're attracted to can teach you a lot about yourself and the type of partner you ultimately want to end up with – even if you don't ever kiss, let alone sleep together. Just make sure, in this case, to share that you only have a platonic connection with him before he gets too invested. Being selfish when dating is essential, but never be cruel and lead people on.

Suppose you want to see where this connection goes, without commitment. In that case, you can always indulge in casual sex with others you are physically attracted to and only go on dates with this man in a more casual dating/companionship way.

I don't think it is shallow to not want to date someone you're not physically/sexually attracted to. Unfortunately, in our current society, you wouldn't even need to question this if you were a man. There are plenty of people we really like and are emotionally attracted to in this life but have no sexual feelings towards – we call them friends.

While it could take some time to find a partner with who you're compatible in every major area, consider how much longer this process would take if you settle with men you have no true interest in before you inevitably break up with them because you're unhappy in the relationship? Staying single until your values align and mutually want rip each others' clothes off every time you see each other in the beginning stages of dating is the best strategy – in my opinion at least. It is better to be technically alone than lonely in a committed relationship. You deserve nothing but the best. Never settle for less. Keep your standards high to maintain your most valuable assets: Your happiness, success, and peace of mind.

Hope this helps xx

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whumpitisthen · 7 months

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here's a quick rundown on astarion: gay vampire spawn (not a vampire. like a demo version vampire. a "lesser" one but don't let him hear that) who has been kept for 200 years by his master as a slave. guy (who was an actual vampire) carved him up, tortured him and forced him to lure victims into his manor. astarion has been abused in so many ways i'd hit some sort of character limit if i listed half of them. he was only allowed to feet on rats and small vermin in the sewers. poor little meow meow astarion is now free due to [game story] reasons and seeks power and revenge -- he's an edgy fuck with a lot of swag and no moral compass. bro is a menace and loves causing problems on purpose. [slight spoiler] he will literally try to suck some of your blood like a day or two after you meet him and unless you succeed a skill check he'll just keep doing it until you die. if you resurrect yourself afterwards he'll go like "ooooh ooopsie sowwy! i wouldn't kill you if i knew you'll be back teehee can we forget about this? ;) <3 don't fucking kill me". he's such a good fucking whumpee you don't even know. it's insane. i don't want to ramble but he's almost everything i've ever wanted from a character like this in a large scale rpg. [slightly bigger spoiler] despite being the go-to "fuckable" character who everyone finds hot as hell (both in-universe and online) he's HORRIBLY traumatized by his sexual experiences from when he used to be a slave and when you romance him a good portion of his storyline revolves around trying to make him realize that he's more than just a slab of very attractive meat. he hides his feelings behind a facade of "evil tumblr sexyman-esque" mannierisms and getting to finally peel it back and see him for the poor wet cat that he is is so fucking satisfying. [an even bigger spoiler] i loved watching him cry when he finally gets to confront his former master. pristine content. there's so much more to his character (and this game in general) but if you ever need to justify spending full price on a new videogame release, there's nothing better than bg3. if i could choose one game to beam directly into the brain of each whumpblr user, it'd be this one.

Okay so i already loved him from the very little information i had about him, but this is so delicious

I saw some pics of bad scars which are always hhh and heard that he is a whumpee but i didn't know the extent and now i think ive collected a new blorbo

You are telling me he meets his old master at some point...... and he cries..... and hes all sad....... he rly was made for tumblr but especially me youre telling me he has white hair and is a vampire twink who was a slave and hurt and traumatised and he has incredible sad wet cat energy and he only has a flimsy layer of confidence and absolutely no idea what morals are. i knew i needed to know more you have to understand my knowledge of the game stopped at the bear sex scene like that is it and yet i somehow always find the most pathetic little men no matter what in any media i could not give a shit about any of the rest i will consume the entire thing just to know the exact extent of his sad little life

Also i wish i had the opportunity to even consider buying a full price new release no matter how good the game is there is no world in which id be able to pay for that. Also idk about the gameplay either it seems very story oriented roleplay and almost dating sim-ish? Not a huge fan of those in general its gotta have more gameplay than walking around and basically watching a movie, but, again. No idea about anything, maybe it has incredible gameplay and i just dont know. Dont tell me if it does itll just make ms sadder bc that would absolutely make me wanna play it myself. Its kinda funny honestly the longer i spend not knowing anything the crazier everyone seems to me both online and irl. Its like im living in a separate world, i know no one who hasn't played this fucking game fjfhskhfd

#asks #anonymous #that lasts part wasnt a read btw im glad its such a good game #im so used to new releases costing a whole lot of money while being complete dumpster fires #its just actually amazing bc I'm usually the guy who knows everything thats going on Especially in the gaming world #and now im just here like #hey ive been seeing this lil vampire dude a lot lately? no fucking clue who he is but i hope he endures torture today :)#thank you for the ask!#and the tiny explanation #you rly know what i like and came ready with all the whumpy bits #appreciate it greatly #all i need to know is that he is so sad and whumpable and traumatised and looks fantastic in pain

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revelmaven · 2 years

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i think i've finally succeeded in putting into words something that has been driving me insane recently, and i beg of anyone with insights to jump in on this.

ive recently started going back to therapy, and every fucking time i do this i become convinced that there is no one who can help me. Now, i am a huge advocate for therapy. Go to fucking therapy, if you have the means - bit i'm amending that statement somewhat to include: find the right Kind of therapy for you, because there's more options than just talk therapy.

which informs the bit that's driving me insane, which is:

i feel like my therapist is more interested in eliciting the textbook neurotypical response from me than actually listening to or treating me.

i do not have an official autism diagnosis because where i live they run you around $4k, and they largely refuse to even bother testing women above a certain age, however almost anyone who has ever spoken to me and knows anything more about autism than Sheldon Cooper Disease can guarantee you i have it, and from personal documentation over the course of now five years im pretty confident in saying I Am Autistic.

one of the ways this presents is that i am hyper aware of everything at all times. not in a high alert trauma response way (though also possible) but just in a My Attention Contains Multitudes way where i can comfortably juggle awareness of the clock ticking, the humidifier running at a different pitch today (probably need to change the filter), traffic outside, a conversation in the next room (if i get bored of this one sounds like the woman on the phone is having an entertaining day; i'll eavesdrop), wind, some animal in the garden, the AC is a bit high i'm cold, obviously the AC is set with you in mind because you're wearing long sleeves, and it is your office after all, have you read all those books on the shelf or is it just meant to make you look official, oh have to turn my phone to silent, my leg's getting tired i'm uncrossing my knees, oh someone else just came in and they didn't shut the front door so i can hear more traffic plus beach sounds now, oh school must have let out for lunch i can hear games, the humidifier smells weird too what's goin' On with that thing today?

and literally all of that happens every second of my life in every room i'm ever in, and at no point do i lose focus on the conversation. i just work that fast.

now my therapist does not understand autism. that is very apparent. because every single time i stop masking he suddenly drags me through grounding exercises i don't need - i can lucidly explain that i am already familiar with all the steps, can intelligently describe what is Actually happening in my mind, am showing no signs of distress or dissociation - and will not let me speak again until i hold eye contact, sit still and straight, and talk in an expressive tone.

and i have explained to him in detail what it will look like when i am in distress. he just ignores it.

and i feel like in his kind of therapy, the resolution of issues comes from explaining to people What they are feeling and what caused it. knowing this then solves the issue for them. MY issue is that my body stores negative emotions as physical sensations (and that i Do blame on trauma) even long after the emotion itself is gone, i am neutral and have processed it, and can recognise i am not in danger or distress. I just can't coax my body out of Threat Response, and usually have to wait days at a time for the lingering grossness of a slightly awkward phone call to work it's way out of my chest. That's what i'm coming for. i can describe what happened, how it affected me, how it Didn't affect me, what i think, what i feel, what i will do next time, and my whole emotional healing process - BUT i can't turn off my body's natural threat settings until Way after than they should have disengaged.

and despite being extremely clear and eloquent (i thought), and describing that sensation multiple times in different ways, it took THREE sessions before my psych blurted something like it out, and i latched into it and said 'YES!! THAT!! That is what i've been saying!' and he finally said 'oh! oh i'll change what i've set up, then'

and i have to do that every time. i feel like he doesn't respect my ability to understand my own body (which is something i've been receiving more and more from male practitioners in my town) and will only help me with the things i ask for if he can make it sound like he came to the breakthrough explanation for me. and even after that, he's altogether more interested in just getting me to act like how i imagine neurotypical people do at the end of a profound session than actually giving me any tools that could assist me.

i am beginning to think i am better off going to a trauma informed somatic therapist, but i wouldn't know where to find one nor how to tell if they are good.

please can anyone tell me what this is, what i might benefit from doing, and indeed if anyone else in the world has to deal with this and how u do

#actually autistic #vent #zero speaks #personal #life up8

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princessdemo · 2 years

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Dad fics you said? First off Trent would be way more exhausted and stressed after you just gave birth. And the first time he get to hold the baby he’ll cry 100% sure off that. He’d also go all out on the baby shopping and get the baby enough LFC kits for the rest of its life and also he’d get a lot of those shirts with "daddy is the best" etc on it. And he’d definitely take pictures all the time and he’d also be convinced that his baby is the smartest and would always brag with how much the baby can do and just be proud of everything the baby does and would show it off

sweet lovin’ in the colour of red - trent alexander arnold

hi! thank you for this request, dad!trent is actually everything <33333 hope ive written it okay! so sorry its taken ages :(((( also, thank you @plutosluts for help with the title! love u so much bby<3

Of course, you adored and admired your partner with everything. He was the light at the end of the tunnel for you, the man who saved you when you didn’t even know. Unquestionably, you loved him and appreciated him extensively. But there was one thing that did sometimes drive you insane. Trent no doubt, was a very tough, thoughtful man. Despite his need for Robbo around him more than ever. But nevertheless, he was always thinking about others, worrying about their concerns. And this personality trait seemed to reflect with greater reason, during your pregnancy.

From the first initial conversation of you announcing the arrival of your baby in next 9 months, Trent had been your shadow. The man had been by your side so often, it felt even the companionless, private moments of your day were spent with the number 66 riding on your back. From getting dressed to using the toilet, the scouser was hovering around you like a fly. Aiding every step within your routine. Without doubt, it’s great having a second pair of hands to help you pull your jeans up, or grab your particularly strange cravings at 3am in the morning. But the times when one who wasn’t carrying the world’s jumpiest baby, (No question, the genetics of a footballer were riddled in the infant) didn’t even require help, he was still by your side.

You could sense Trent was nervous for the arrival, undoubtedly so were you. It’s always scary the commencement of a child into ones lives. Worries of the amount of sleep deprivation was going to be lost, or how many smelly nappies could one human produce within the space of an hour. For Trent, he had worries about how his life would differ with the introduction of a baby in his space forever. As well as, would he face difficulties finding a secure relationship with his child with the amount of time he was away from home? You’d reassured him as much as possible, explaining how the baby would still be too young to understand their daddy’s departure. And that he’s going to be the world’s most amazing dad, (well maybe just in Liverpool) so they’d have no trouble creating a warm nurturing relationship in short periods of time.

You also suggested for him to reach out to the other lads in the squad, question them on how they deal with leaving their kids for a few days. And well it seemed Trent had taken onto this discussion, and soon couldn’t stop pestering the lads about dad life. Firstly, he went to Hendo. Seeing as he is basically the caregiver of Trent at Liverpool. He asked him about dad life, finding out information about his adaptment. Soon after, he went to the other half of him. The Scottish lad in which you’d think would be too wild to be a father of 2. And with reassurance and comfort from the two, the scouser seemed to feel a bit better about the situation. Certainly, those obstacles were still pestering inside his stomach, but slightly better than before.

There was one stage in your pregnancy, roughly 6 months in. You’d received a message from Andy. It didn’t worry you, the relationship you both had was very pleasurable and compassionate. Though, what was written on the message, did cause you to laugh at a certain man’s acts. He’d sent you a text about Trent. Telling you to come pick him up before he ended up booting the man up the back side. Trent had been grilling the squad about dad life. Asking questions from how does a baby burp? To what happens if the baby shits while Y/N is away? And from then on, it didn’t need any more reassurance. He was going to be, the most lovable yet brainless father.

Excruciating pains began on a Sunday morning, approximately 30 minutes prior to Trent’s departure to Anfield. Another day for the man to provide an assist for the reds. However, justifiably this was a day off for him. With a thousand beads of sweat dripping from all angles, an extreme discomfort deepening from your back, down to your thighs. A flourish of countless breathless moans leaving your body every few minutes. Today, was in fact, the day baby Alexander-Arnold was making its appearance into the world.

You’d both spoken together about a birth plan, soon figuring was best option was for Trent to be with you no matter what. And it seemed, if the scouser did not emerge within the next 15 minutes, this baby would be delivered without the man. Inhaling sharply as a wave of contraction hits you one after another, you scream in pain. Screeching profanities at the need of your husband.

“Y/N!” The familiar voice of the Scouser blasts into the room, blocking all background voices within echo. Trent without a second to spare, shrugs his coat off in a fast motion, throwing it bedside the rather inadequate chair next to your bed. He trudges to your side, hand gently swiping over clammy forehead to press light, in an instant sticky, kisses to your forehead. “I’m here, I’m here,” He whispered.

All was managed was a nod, the pain letting the ability to communicate somewhat unachievable. He rubbed his hands along your shoulders, letting a soft but hoarse grunt escape your lips. Once the contraction had passed, you took a moment to bring yourself to reality what was about to happen.

“She’s coming, today.” You start, reaching over for Trent’s hand to clasp. He smiles at your words, making himself more comfortable within the environment.

“Told you I wouldn’t miss it,” Now your smiling at his words. Peering over at him ruffling through the hospital bag, looking at what you believe was a notepad and pen, detailed inside with all the parts to a healthy labour.

You shook your head at his organisation, fixating on his eyebrows furrow at each word, lip gnawing between his teeth. “Did you win?” You ask, arm extending for the small cup of water placed next to your side.

Breaking his stance, his visions pairs back to you. “3-0. Jots scored an absolute worldie.”

“Ahh, Liverpool’s finest Portuguese.”

“Sure is. Oh sweet, you would of cried! Robbo got face to face with Harry Kane on the pitch. That Scot has no shame,”

Whilst Trent’s still blearing on about Robbo’s fine encounter on the ground of Anfield, your face is scrunched with the not once familiar pain upon your lower region. Shallow breaths soon passing your lips. Wrapping an arm around your stomach, in the chance of resulting the pain, your muscles tighten and sharp pains strike against your back.

A low moan erupts his explanation, “T, listen. As much as I want to hear about Robbo right now. This baby is literally about to push it’s self out of my vagina.”

The delivery of Athena Alexander Arnold, felt like a fever dream. The state of euphoria blasting a sense of electricity through your chest. You couldn’t describe in words how the last hour felt, or even the current state of mind. Just you, Trent and a tiny bundle of joy, wrapped up in a soft, cotton pink blanket. Were all you ever needed.

“She’s so beautiful,” Trent whispers, scared to raise his voice in case he startled her. He held her with the shakiest of hands, you reaching yours to settle on top of his attempting to provide comfort. He’d tucked himself next to you in the bed, letting you both snuggle close to his warmth.

“I’m so proud of you,” The scouser leaned in to press a tender, passionate kiss to your lips, brushing the damp baby hairs back with his fingers. The tickling sensation earned a laugh from yourself, before taking the opportunity to snuggle back closer into the bare skin of the man next to you.

“I love you,”

Trent smiles, “I love you too.”

Now this response like a flash causes you to perch yourself up. With struggle through the pain, you lock eyes with Trent, a gasp leaving your mouth during the motion.

“I love you too? Eh?” Your eyebrows furrow, eyes scrunching in question.

Trent looks at you with a daze, the state of wonder and bafflement in one’s mind. He switches his vision every few seconds from yourself to Athena. Struggling to take his eyes off the precious bundle. “What?” He questions.

“You’re meant to say, I love you more?”

“We are really having this disagreement an hour after the birth of our daughter?”

You smile weakly at his words, a small giggle compelling you to press your head against his shoulder, nuzzling yourself back against his skin.

“I guess so.”

A few hours passing of the delivery of Athena, you both found yourself beginning to fall back into reality. The past few hours were a blur for you both. Trent blaming the gas and air whilst you believe it was the Scousers clumsiness and lack of intelligence within the department driving you senseless. Managing to catch your breath back and tidying your hair up never felt better, and the ever so small baby girl wrapped in your arms, could cause a bubble of adorableness to shatter.

Once you both had settled, you took advantage of the sleeping child bedside your bed. Resting in the comfort of the hospital bassinet. Joining in her activities, you find yourself dozing in and out of sleep with Trent too actually, though he kept stating he wouldn’t sleep a wink in hospital. Claiming the thought made him anxious and he needed to keep an eye on you both at all times.

Hushed whispers arouse you from your doze, your stiffened neck making you grunt in discomfort. To your left, sat in the rather unpleasant chair, brought to view Trent and Athena. You could make out the scouser talking in his baby voice, a smile plastering on your face. You’d wished someone could film the interaction, to implant the memory forever in your brain. Seeing the two you adore connecting for the first time.

“Hey,” You turn to face Trent, the voice of another startling him. Athena was nestled closely to his side, wrapped in the arms of a world class footballer.

“Hi.” Trent replies, smiling at your presence. His gaze over at you places you in a state of confusion, and worriedness. Tear marks were visible from the gleaming lights shining down on his skin, red splotchy rings round his eyes, burning with touch.

“You okay, T?” To which he nods, eyes fixating down at the little girl in his arms. Within a few seconds, the throbbing pain taking over your body and holding you back from running over to him, You are planted by his side, pressing a delicate kiss to his head.

“What’s up?” And now it’s your turn to wrap your arms around him, your turn to provide the source of comfort he was lacking.

His eyesight soon returned into the blurry state, clouded with the recognition of tears beginning to fall. “Come ere,” You tuck his head into your side, rubbing your hand up and down his back softly.

Soon your already mucky t-shirt, provided with sick and all kinds of baby produces, is covered with a spot of wetness. Salty tears followed with whimpers are catching in his throat, slipping down his face in a state of overwhelm, you thought. “What’s wrong?”

A whimper from the child cuddled between you, causes the separation of your hold. Watching as her eyes flutter gently with the touch of Trent’s finger, lightly stroking her cheek. “I’m just go grateful, feel like I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Your heart thumps profusely at his words, an electrifying shock causing a rise in your heartbeat. For 9 months you had waited for this moment, to see Trent finally become a father. Despite his worries, and the very small interactions of pregnancy talk before you became expectant. You had a feeling deep down he’d always wanted to be a father. You’d seen the verbalisation and associations he’d had with Robbo’s children, watching as he’d tickled their sides until they were screaming for him to stop. Or the times when he spend chasing Hendo’s daughters around the pitch of Anfield pretending to be a scary monster in their eyes. All those interactions made your stomach flutter heavenly, and though he was nervous, Trent will always make the most amazing father to you.

“Are you trying to make me cry too?” The pair of you laugh, a few sniffles coming from Trent’s side.

“She’s so pretty. I don’t want to ever leave her.” He smiles, leaning down to kiss the softness of her nose, bright twinkly eyes blinking up at his touch. The memorisation the man had on the child was impeccable, from the second she was placed in his touch, you hadn’t seen his vision move for more than a second from her.

You delicately swipe your finger across her eyes, collecting the speck of a tear on your thumb. “She’s got your eyes.”

Trent smiled tearfully, letting her wrap her ever so small finger around his much larger one. “She’s got your facial features though,”

“Better not have your accent.” You nudge him, watching as he erupts a gasp of shock at your words.

“Shockin’ that.”

Subsequent to the scouser’s little moment of tears and sniffles, you’re both finding tranquillity in the hospital room. Resting alongside one another, tucked in the little hospital bed. Breaking the silence Trent’s phone buzzes, causing you both to turn in the direction of the beep.

“Who’s that?” You question him, as he reaches to grab the phone enclosed in his pocket. Rustling his hand inside, he grabs his phone before gasping in surprise, eyes widening in a matter of realisation.

The scousers mouth opens to speak, despite the hesitation over riding him. “Uh, don’t kill me sweet, but-“

Blinking at him in bafflement, watching as he gnaws on his lip. “What is it?”

“Robbo, Hendo, Ox and Perrie are on their way...”

Your body hurls up in startlement, jaw dropping at his words. “Are you being serious right now Trent? I’ve literally just pushed your child out of my vagina a few hours ago. My t-shirt is covered with all kinds of baby fluids, I look like I have been dragged through a bush. And I’m supposed to be known as a wag?” Your response came out with a tone of fire. Deep down, you know he didn’t invite them to cause upset or irritate you. He was just overly excited and wanted his best friends to see their new little friend.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to...” Rattles down the corridor, the accent of a Scotsman’s blasting through your ear drums, resulting in you both squeezing your eyes closed in amazement. A subtle knock on the door, followed with a few hushed whispers alerts you both there was a few visitors eager to come inside. Trent slides of the bed, proceeding to open the door.

“Congrats Trentski!” Robbo pulls Trent into a warm, far from gentle, hug. Expression soon followed by Jordan Henderson, Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain and his partner, Perrie. They all huddle into the room, glistening eyes pondering over to the sleeping child settled in your arms. Congratulating you also, a kiss partnered with a side cuddle.

“Woah, she’s so precious.” Hendo whispers, finger lightly dusting over her small wispy fluffle of hair.

“Wee pretty girl.” Robbo smiles, voice far from the same as Jordans. Earning multiple hushes and a dig from Jordan to “shut up, speak in your baby voice.”

“She’s absolutely beautiful, Y/N. Definitely got her mummy’s looks.” Perrie coos at the child, watching as she yawn’s in her dazed sleep. Most likely woken from the blaring Scottish accent flooding the room.

“Thank you, she’s a little angel.” You press a kiss to her forehead. Trent quick to argue at Perrie’s statement, claiming she also was given the pleasure of his features. “Do you want to hold her?” Beckoning your head in Perrie’s direction.

As you snuggle Athena into the warmth of Perrie’s Arms. Gazing at the infant hiccupping in response to leaving the comfort of her mothers. You notice a reasonably large bag resting beside Andy’s foot.

Pointing over in the direction of the bag, you question. “What’s in the bag Robbo?”

He picks up the red bag in a swift motion, placing the relatively heavy bag you estimated from the grunt that passed his lips. “Oh. This is full of some presents we have for Athena.”

“Aww, cheers lads. Let’s see, let’s see.”

“Alright, firstly we have...” Andy rustles in the bag to collect the first item, trying his best be as quiet as possible before he gets another blocking from Hendo.

“Is that?”

“Her first Robertson shirt. Don’t worry, if she’s not a fan of red, I’ve also brought the shirt in the away kit and third kit.”

The room soon floods with chuckles from all, giggling at the state of the Scottish man holding a bag full of Liverpool shirts. Taking a peep further into the bag, you chuckle even harder at the fact he’d also brought the Scottish national team kit also.

“Robbo lad,” Trent shakes his head in disgust, “There’s no way my daughter is even contemplating wearing any of those shirts.” The thick scouse accent roars in horror at the thought of his daughter wearing anything but his name on her back.

“What about me Trent? Gonna be favourite uncle here.” Alex challenges. Outrage and irritancy soon absorbing the mind of the scouser. “She won’t be wearing anyone else’s shirts, other than mine.” Trent states.

“Enough arguing, testosterone is getting far too much now.” Your head beginning to bang at the stupid bicker between Trent and his other half. “Robbo, correct me if I’m wrong. Did I hear you sing happy birthday down the corridor?”

Andy’s cheeks in an instant invoke a rosy blush upon them. A little giggle with his eyes now drawn to the ground. “Well… It is her birthday.”

“Is it like a Scottish thing?”

His head peers back up to look at everyone, “Eh?”

Jordan shakes his head, “Think it’s just an Andy thing.”

Nothing had really suck in that you had a new-born attached to your hip, more often than Trent. The man had been amazing, you couldn’t fault him one bit. The only time that did cause a slight frustration, was when he chose to do things for you. Explaining you needed to rest and recover. Though this made your heart swell and pound profusely, it also caused a strain of irritancy. The man really did have a heart of gold. The day you returned from hospital, you don’t think you moved for longer than five minutes from your bed. Trent was constant, bringing you food, pushing a glass of water into your hands every 20 minutes, checking you felt okay without exception. He was spoiling you to the dozen, you and his little girl meant every single thing ever to him.

Securing the nappy onto the infant’s waist, Trent presses a few smooches to Athena’s stomach, laughing at the vibrations tickling her skin. The man had taken the job of bath-time, in spite of the fact you had argued you were well enough to assist in the job. He claimed you rested in bed.

Hearing a flourish of giggles from the little scouser’s nursery, you decide to check what the commotion was. Stumbling along the floor, a wince of pain every so often from your lower region making the journey much longer than normal. Finally arriving, you perch inside the door way, dwelling on the sight of Trent kissing Athena’s soft curls. A feature you thanked Trent for every day.

“Daddy’s a very funny man.” Trent’s head briskly turns to your presence, a hand raised on his chest to signal the shock he’d gotten.

“You’re meant to be resting.” Trent sighs. Not that he didn’t want you there, the worried feeling he gets from you not being fully recovered and hurting yourself soon flooding back.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I promise, T.” You shake your head, edging closer to him and pressing a kiss to his side. He smiles at your touch, wrapping an arm around your waist with the other firmly across your daughter’s stomach.

“Can you grab me another Babygro sweet? Little bug has dribbled milk down this one.”

“Sure,” Hobbling over to the wardrobe containing far too many clothes for a diddy child. “Just a baby- what the?”

“Hmm?” Trent hums, sliding a pair of mittens onto each of Athena’s hands, in the hope she’d keep them on and not risk accidently scratching her skin.

“How many Liverpool shirts are in here?” Flicking through the shirts, taking in multiple with daddy on, a few with Athena, one or two with Alexander Arnold, and the rest, you’d be flicking through all day to memorise.

Trent laughs, “Was thinking I’d get her a few with daddy on, a couple with her name on, extras in the case they get dirty. Brought some for when she’s growin’, away ones and third kit ones. Oh, and got her one with daddy is the best,”

“You are mad, Trent Alexander Arnold. Maddest man in Liverpool.”

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

The Five Scares (and one revenge)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having a tendency to scare people, Corpse has gotten used to his friends being jumpy whenever he appears from the void into a Discord call with them. However, the one who has it the roughest with the spooks has to be his partner Y/N. Basically: The five times Corpse scared Y/N and the one time they scared him

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your lovely request it was a real joy to write and I had a ton of fun doing so! Hope you have equally as wonderful of a time if you happen to come across it and give it a read despite the long wait you’ve had to endure which I apologize for. Love, Vy ❤

Having had to go home for the night to keep an eye on their roommate’s dog, Y/N and Corpse agreed to have a video call before they fell asleep. They didn’t want to appear like that typical clingy and cheesy couple but after spending almost a whole week curled up in Corpse’s apartment, the two would feel each other’s absence to a very saddening degree to the point where they’d even forget the other isn’t around and would call out to them.

Letting the call ring, Y/N’s hand comes up to smooth out their hair. However, the touch reveals to them that their hair needs a bit more than a simple tap or a pat to be tamed so while they wait for Corpse to answer the call, they quickly head to their bathroom. Flicking the light on, their reflection greets them with the underwhelming news of the actual state of their hair at the moment: an absolute mess. They proceed to do their best with the single hair-tie they have handy. A bobby pin or two would be neat but they have no time to go and grab one right now, seeing as how they can’t recall if they even brought them back from Corpse’s apartment. If they didn’t, they would have to search their roommate’s room for some which would take an even longer amount of time.

Eventually, they manage to tame it in something closely resembling a presentable ponytail and exit the bathroom feeling more exhausted than before. With a loud sigh, they crash onto their bed, face-first into the sea of pillows, groaning at the slight sting of their muscles relaxing at last.

“Y/N?“ The decently loud mention of their name by a deep, familiar yet sudden and unexpected voice startles them to the point of squealing and jumping an entire inch away from where they were positioned.

They look around their room in a frenzy, wondering where on Earth that voice came from and how it could be here with them right now.

“Y/N, you there?”, before they could locate it, it emerges once again, helping Y/N get an ide of where it’s coming from - somewhere in the messed up bed sheets.

“Corpse?“ They finally find their voice, “Y-yeah I’m here. Question is: how are you...“ and then it all clicks, causing them to twist their face in an expression of utter disappointment and bury it in the palms of their hands, groaning.

“You forgot about the video chat, didn’t you?“ Corpse asks, amusement not even attempted to be hidden in his voice.

“Yup.“

It’s been one hell of a day. Y/N’s college lectures exhausted them to a max and their six hour job following their classes did nothing to help them AT ALL. Quite the opposite actually. Makes sense why they look, move and talk the way they’re doing right now: like a ghost, zombie and an elder combined in one. To add to their misfortunes for the day, they were met with the mocking ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign taped to the doors of the elevator, laughing in their face with the information that their hellish experience for the day is far from over.

Just the thought of having to climb to the fifth floor made their stomach turn in the most unpleasant way possible, but the though of how long that would take made matters even worse. Arriving at their designated apartment, they have every right to be pissed, cussing their heart out.

However, then comes a new problem: the inability to pinpoint the correct key. They proceed to curse themselves, the keys, the door handle and the door itself before punching the poor wood that did no wrong and just stands here, serving its purpose of keeping unwanted people out of the apartment it’s guarding.

Following their anger outburst and front-door-abuse, they proceed to try finding the correct key once again, this time slightly more calmly as to not accidentally miss it in their frantic rifling.

Right as they’re about to try the third key, however, the door opens. Well, it’s opened by someone on the other side, that someone being none other than their boyfriend Corpse who’s currently staring at them wide-eyed, one eyebrow raised, the word ‘confused’ basically written across his face.

While he’s processing the sight in front of him, Y/N lets out a little scream, jumping back and away from the door, a hand placed over their chest as their wide eyes scan their boyfriend who now seems equally terrified as a result of their reaction.

“Corpse?!“ They manage to gasp, barely hearing their own voice over the loud thumping of their heart and the rush of blood in their ears, “What the hell are you doing here?!“

The confusion on Corpse’s face deepens, reaching whole new levels as his eyes gaze deeper into theirs, searching for the meaning behind their bizarre question. “You mean...at my own apartment? What am I doing, at home?“

For a few seconds, the two just stare blankly at one another, processing everything that’s just happened. Suddenly, it all just kinda caves for Y/N and they burst out laughing, doubling over, their arms clutching at their stomach as they do so. Their laughter is contagious, so Corpse can’t help but let out a few chuckles himself.

“Alright, you’ve been driven to insanity, I can tell.“ He mumbles at his reckless partner, coming up behind them and wraps his arms around them, lifting them up and carrying their laughing ass inside.

III

Finally deciding to sit down and get this damn project started, Y/N already feels like they’ve had enough of it, burnout already creeping in and threatening to ruin their work and trip them up every step of the way. It wouldn’t have been so bad had the subject not been one they absolutely despise and wish they could get out of studying but alas they’re stuck with it.

They equip their headphones as soon as they plant their butt on the desk chair in their tiny room in their tiny roommate-shared apartment, putting their Spotify playlist on shuffle as they open a blank Power Point document. They work better with music blasting in their ears since the silence tends to be too loud and distracting when they’re trying to focus. So, that way they can also sing their heart out in peace and not get disturbed by the sound of their own off-key singing. Win-win, basically.

Singing ‘Never Forget You’ by Zara Larsson and MNEK, they get a little carried away, ditching the project to enter a full-blown music video they can imagine down to the detail in their mind.

However, there’s a surprise awaiting them.

As soon as MNEK’s part of the song begins, another voice apart from his echoes through their headphones, singing along to the song. Freaking the fuck out, they let out a loud scream, smacking the headset off them, sending the object falling and landing on their laptop keyboard with a crash that only serves to further startle their roommate’s dog which comes to check if they are being attacked or something only to be disappointed by the lack of action.

When pushing the headphones off, they did so with a force strong enough to snap the cable out of the laptop entirely so now the room is filled with the sound of that same foreign voice laughing his ass off.

A voice that belongs to no other than Corpse Husband himself.

“You gotta learn to disconnect from Discord calls, Y/N.“ The fucker says, still cackling wholeheartedly at his partner’s misery.

Pissed off or not, Y/N would have to admit he’s got a point. But they’d also rather never speak again than admit it so...

“Fuck you!“ is what they say instead, seconds before disconnecting.

Making breakfast is not something either Corpse or Y/N are used to, mostly cause they both either wake up late or skip the meal entirely. Regardless, having been given a day off from work and having no classes since it’s Saturday, Y/N saw no better way to start their day off than to prepare a nice breakfast for them and their boyfriend to enjoy. Problem is: they aren’t the most skilled in the kitchen. Sure they can scramble an egg or make mac and cheese, but in order to do it correctly they are not allowed to have distractions of any kind. Not even music, that’s how you know it’s serious.

Seeing as how Corpse has never seen them cook, he’s obviously unaware of theirs. The dummy straight up waltzes into the kitchen, unintentionally remaining unspotted and unheard by Y/N because he’s barefoot and because they have their back turned to him.

“Whatya cooking over there babe?“

Y/N’s focus bubble, being as thin as it is and considering they initially thought Corpse was still asleep, they have every right to let out the yelp they just did, dropping the egg they were gonna crack over the pan in said pan in its entirety - yes, shell and all.

A moment of silence commences: regretful on Corpse’s end and frustrated on theirs. Neither of them dares to say anything to avoid triggering the other. Well, that’s the case until Y/N decides enough’s enough and they turn to look at him, a wide, obviously fake smile plastered onto their face.

“Scrambled eggs, following a secret recipe, property of the L/N family.“

Seems like your pre-breakfast snack is an extra large dose of sarcasm, huh?

“So, how was your day? You sound pretty chipper so I take it wasn’t a nightmare like a few days ago.“ Corpse comments over the phone, listening to shuffling and shifting as Y/N moves around the apartment, getting ready to head out.

“It was great actually. Got some important results back and, not to brag or anything, but they were higher than I expected.“ They reply, a genuine wide grin refusing to leave their face as they silently count the amount of money they’ve got in their wallet. “I’m gonna go buy a cake so we can celebrate it. It’s no small deal, trust me, especially not when I initially thought I’d fail both these exams to the point of being pitied.“

“Wait...-“ Corpse attempts, his voice suddenly sounding strained and urgent but that’s the very reason he cannot seem to find or get the right words out of his system. Not that Y/N gives him any time to figure it out.

“No Corpse, you cannot change my mind. Cake and beers, we’re celebrating toni- SHIT!“ They scream as they throw open the front door, bumping square into someone standing on the other side, almost dropping their phone.

Taken aback by embarrassment and fear, they leap back, their eyes searching for the ones of the person whose personal space they just invaded. Well, to be fair, he was the one invading their personal space by standing right outside the door to their - well, to Corpse’s apartment.

The fear and irritation die down almost instantly when Y/N recognizes the person standing opposite them.

“Mind telling me why we’re talking on the phone when you could’ve come in and we could’ve had a normal person conversation?!“ They snap, ironically enough - they’re still holding the phone to their ear.

So is Corpse whos is smiling guiltily, “That’s why I called, I forgot my keys, but I got...carried...sorry.”

Well, at least this serves as proof Y/N’s not the only forgetful one.

~ ~ ~

Corpse has been stuck in his recording room for four hours now, never stopping his stream to take care of his basic human needs such as eating or going to the bathroom. This behavior of his has Y/N worried sick and unable to focus on the task at hand - an assignment they’ve been trying to finish for two hours now, sitting with their computer on their lap and looking hopelessly at the blank Word document waiting for them to fill it up while they are waiting for it to start writing itself.

Seeing as how neither are gonna happen, not until Y/N puts their mind at ease, they slowly put the laptop aside, standing up to carefully skip on over to Corpse’s recording room to check on him, stopping by the kitchen to grab him a snack and a bottle of water along the way.

The door to the darkened room is open a crack, as usual, suggesting they can enter without knocking - this also means he’ll probably not hear them even if they knock so the whole gesture would be pointless. Not that Y/N has a tendency to knock or anything... Waltzing in, they find that the only light in the room is the very faint and dark glow of the computer screen which is displaying a dark and dingy room from a first-person view of the protagonist of whatever game Corpse’s currently playing.

“Corpse?!“ They whisper-yell/hiss at him, trying their best to grasp his attention without startling him - they don’t need to be told that the game is of the horror genre and the last thing they need is for their boyfriend to flip backwards and fall out of his chair because they scared the shit out of him. “Hey?!“

Neither attempts prove futile so, despite their best instincts telling them differently, they walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder. The reaction, while within the realm of expectancy, is a lot more startled than they expected, accompanied by a scream on top of all. They’d never heard him scream in fear before, it’s quite amusing if they’re being honest.

They suppress a snicker as Corpse’s wide open eyes meet their squinting ones in the darkness, “Y/N...babe...what is it? Is everything ok?”

Y/N rolls their eyes, “No, everything isn’t ok. Your unhealthy habit of forgetting to take care of yourself, for example.” They put the snack and the bottle on the his desk, giving him their best disappointed-parent look before turning on their heel to strut their way out of the room. However, just as they are about to make their exit, they stop right at the doorframe, giving their stunned one final glance over their shoulder with a smug smirk playing across their face, “Oh and by the way, that’s what I like to call revenge.” Just like that, they leave, pushing the door back into its previous position.

And boy, is it some sweet, sweet revenge.

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Note

I would for sure read a continuation of the birth photographer fic if you feel comfortable writing it/have time! Xx

a/n sorry I kinda combined these two together, I hope this is okay!! sorry ive taken so long too!! my requests are still open, just going a bit slowly :)

summary: literally just birth + harry

dad!tom x reader

warnings: childbirth, mentions of fainting, squint for suggestiveness too

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Your doing so good darling, just keep breathin’ like that for me, in-out-in-out”

That had pretty much been the soundtrack to your last 3 hours. And yes it was MORE annoying than it sounds. Of course, that’s also ignoring the insane amount of pain your uterus was putting you through - as it spasmed while the little bug in there was wriggling away. Giving birth was not easy but giving birth with a husband-turned-midwife wittering away in your ear? Un-fucking-bearable.

“Tom…. I love you but..” Everything had really been starting to ramp up in the last half an hour, you were a panting sweaty mess now. “Please… SHUT THE FUCK UP” Tom would’ve recoiled completely away from the bed because of your tone, if it wasn’t for the absolute death grip you had his right hand in. Instead, Tom settled for straightening straight up and staring helplessly and dejectedly across the room at his brother - who of course was trying to hold back laughter, knowing it would be very easy for you to switch your target to him.

Clearly it wasn’t a social call to the hospital, Harry was here under the premise of taking photos when the baby arrives for Tom; but really to stop his brother from having his own breakdown - as commissioned by you. Lets just say, however scared and mortified Harry was of this ‘event’ he was taking a lot of enjoyment from how his brother was acting currently.

“It’s okay sir, if you were pushing a watermelon out of hole that normally was the size of a whiteboard marker, I’m sure you’d be a bit tetchy too.” That lady was your favourite midwife and in a lull between the sets of contractions, you actually managed a laugh. Wide-eyed, Tom just nodded jerkily, murmuring some sort of agreement. It was at this point a flash of light reverberated around the whole room, causing you to breathlessly laugh, Harry’s face informing you the picture he just got of Tom was priceless.

The laughter didn’t last long though, the next contraction had you bearing down on the bed, face contorted in pain as you sucked desperately on the gas and air tube.

“Okay Y/n I think we might be getting there, let me call the senior midwifes in okay?” The midwife had your legs hiked apart, a blanket attempting to cover your modesty - but at this point she was basically sticking her face in your noon. Modesty was out the window.

“Already?” Tom was shocked to say the least, from all his reading and research he’d learnt that the average labour time was more like 5 hours. Lets just say, Tom never exceled in school, never much enjoyed reading - which made the hours of highlighting baby books and pregnancy leaflets all the more extraordinary.

“Babies don’t stick to the script sir.” You could tell she was proud of the pun there, because you know, Tom’s a moviestar. “Professional improvisers, the lot of them.”

The cream walls of the hospital room very quickly filled with more and more people - Harry staying like a fly on the wall, now nervously biting his nails as he watched an obscene amount of medical people all take their turn oggling his sister-in-law’s bits. This was a weird ass situation.

Almost immediately it was at the point the midwifes were telling you to push, which after 9 months of holding a baby in (as well as your ill functioning bladder) sounded like an absolute dream. But it was also absolutely terrifying and exciting and horrifying all wrapped in one. Naturally then, after nodding hesitantly at the midwife between your legs, you’d craned your neck across to tom .You might’ve just told him off, for trying to encourage you, but now? You needed his encouragement.

What met you though, was his face completely drained of colour, mouth hanging slightly open as he hadn’t moved - still staring intently at the midwife. She followed your gaze, only taking half a second to survey the situation before knowingly smiling.

“Can we get a bit of help for dad please?” Immediately one of the more junior looking midwives was directing (pushing) Tom into the chair next to the floor. Suddenly actually concerned, you looked with wide eyes to the lady between your legs, who you felt bad for not remembering her name. With a comforting squeeze of your ankle she reassured you he’d be right as rain after a few moments of having his head between his knees. Also sensing you needed your support, she arched up, beckoning over to Harry who had an equally bemused look on his face.

“No - I-um I’m not.” His squeaking protests were interrupted by a large scream on your part, as another contraction tore through your body. Helplessly Harry glanced between Tom, who was still hunched over on a chair with a nurse squatted infront of him; and you, writhing around on the mechanical bed. He didn’t hesitate then, in jumping right to your side, allowing you to start crushing all the bones in his hand too.

And then it was all happening, a blur of activity and screams. It didnt take long for Tom to pull himself together and then you were flanked on both sides by Holland boys - both giving cheesy encouraging words (which you would’ve again told them to shut the fuck up for, if you’d been able to), Tom also stroking the top of your head. He found it pretty impossible, watching the woman that he loved go through such immense pain - especially when he was technically half the cause. Well… actually more that that, it had been him who had been… well shall we say *needy* those nine months ago.

“Okay Y/n the heads crowning, I know you’re tired but we need a few more big pushes, can you do that for me?”

Merely 5 minutes later and the most beautiful sound in the world echoed through the 4 creams walls. You were absolutely spent, eyes closed as you panted, knowing tears were flooding down your face too. Immediately though, familiar hands cupped both sides of your face, a forehead resting on yours.

“You did it Y/n/n.” His eyes were glassy, watering and red and the way he scoffed a smile in disbelief had you mirroring him exactly.

“We did it.” Your voice was hoarse and scratchy from all the yells of pain but it didnt matter. The midwife calling you by the name ‘mum and dad’ got both of your attention, a title you’d no doubt start getting used to.

“Meet your beautiful baby girl.” Another choked sob escaped your throat, as this little roughly wrapped up pink alien looking thing was placed onto your chest. Both you and Tom just gazed at her, completely transfixed at the way she wriggled her head slightly, nuzzling into your chest. Tom gently hovered his palm against her little head, while you pressed down the blanket gently, just so you could see all her features.

Then a flash echoed around the otherwise silent room, making you all look up to Harry who was gritting his teeth in apology. “Do mum and dad want to smile for the camera?” The question was posed so hesitantly and quietly, really it wasn’t funny either. That didn’t stop you and Tom both pulling out the biggest grins and chuckling away, allowing Harry to capture the perfect moment. Being referred to as mum and dad - it was bloody comical.

“You gonna tell me her name now?” You looked from Harry to Tom, nodding in approval for him to spill the beans.

“Amber. She’s Amber.”

You’d squabbled for months before ending on Amber. It had been a long relentless process, Tom claiming that your baby might just have ended up as ‘as yet untitled’ which you and your hormonal state had stormed out at. It hadn’t taken much to forgive it though, Tom had long since worked out that Ben and Jerrys was the way to your heart.

The nurses took Amber back to do some tests, properly cleaning both you and her up and after that everything was weirdly calm. Harry had left to give the twothree of you a moment alone and Tom was about to do his turn of skin to skin.

“This really is it isn’t it?” He murmured, whilst carefully scooping Amber from your arms.

“Mhmmm… your stuck with two girls who’ll go psycho on you without a moments notice.” He seemed to accept it though, just nodding in response.

“And I still can’t bloody wait.” His eyes penetrating deep into you, had you blushing like a nervous teenage girl. “ ‘m still so proud of you, you grew this little human.”

“Your not allowed to call her little because you didnt have the ‘little’ thing rip your insides apart.”

“Hey! I’m upset about it too! Was like I had to watch my favourite pub being burnt down.” Of course, trust Tom to make a dirty joke at a time like this.

“Don’t kid yourself, you weren’t watching, too busy fainting.”

“I didn’t actually faint!” This time he protested a bit too loudly, causing Amber to mewl a little and bury her head into the crook of her Dads arm. “I think Ambers just told you to shut it too.”

“You annoy the hell out of…” Your grumbling was interrupted by an impressive, ear-splitting yawn. “ You annoy the hell out of me.”

“But you love me?” He sing-songed, now back to a hushed tone.

“I hope so, otherwise we’re in a bit of trouble.” He scoffed, but nodded his head, taking the hand that wasn’t cradling Amber to tuck some sweaty, knotted strands of hair behind your ear.

“I do owe Harry though, he was at least able to stay on his feet.”

“He was a better birthing partner than you too, much much less condescending and annoying.” You sniggered, making Tom pout once again, only wiping the look off his face when you yawned again, rubbing an your eye like a toddler would.

“If your done insulting me… get some rest love, I got you.” All you did was nod, with a small groan (because below your waist still hurt like a bitch) rolled over so you could fall asleep to sight of the two of them.

“Got you both, my two beautiful girls.”

hope you enjoyed, would love to hear any thoughts <3

taglist: @hollandfanficlove @hallecarey1

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland fluff #Tom Holland blurb #dad!tom #tom holland imagine #harry holland

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding IX

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV - - - Part V - - - - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII

Content Warning: This chapter contains potentially triggering material, particularly aftermath of attempted suicide as well as discussions of bodily injury.

Cody woke up the morning after the...drunken keldabe still feeling uneasy. He spent half an hour attempting to read over reports in preparation for the Umbaran campaign before giving it up as a lost cause. He distracted himself for a little while by pouring over last night’s cantina surveillance, before giving up on that as well and sending a message to General Skywalker.

‘Any updates on General Kenobi’s status?’

He watched the comms as communications from everyone besides the General trickled in. He answered a few requests for requisitions, forwarded some medical reports, and ignored an irritating handful of overly-personal questions.

Agonizing over it the whole time, he opened a comm-text link to Obi-Wan. It took nearly an hour, but he managed to send two sentences. ‘Hope you’re recovering well. Look forward to upcoming mission discussion.’

He immediately wanted to retroactively delete the message, mortified by every word and deeply concerned at every second that passed without a reply.

He spent the next 30 minutes hunched over, quickly closing every incoming CT and CC communication, justifying the time to himself as ‘technically on leave.’

He lurched forward when he finally received a General’s comm code, but slumped in disappointment when it was Skywalker, not Kenobi.

‘Not as drunk but still seems a little high. He says he wasn’t drugged. He’s taking the rest of the day off. I’m monitoring.’

Taking the rest of the day off. Did that mean he wasn’t carrying around his comm? Kriff. Should he more or less concerned that the general was actually taking a day off?

He decided to be more concerned.

‘Thank you for the update. Respectfully request information on any changes.’

Hopefully that would encourage Skywalker to keep him informed even if he stopped freaking out over his vod’s behavior.

Stowing the remote comm, he stood up and exited the temporary planet-side office, throwing himself into cleaning up the mess that was nearly 20,000 clone troopers simultaneously attempting to get the most out of a very brief R&R.

Shortly before mid-day, he received another update from Skywalker.

‘Just managed to get him to medical. Healer cleared him of drug interactions but Obi-Wan’s still acting strange (not crying, but a lot of hugging).’

Cody stared at that for a long while.

‘Any other verbal indications of upcoming danger?’ he finally asked. Skywalker didn’t reply.

Shortly after nightfall, his incident reports were interrupted by a call from an unknown temple number. He quickly opened it, and a holo of an unfamiliar Mon Calamari female healer appeared in miniature on the desk.

“Commander Cody. Thank you for answering so quickly. Are you somewhere private?” she asked, voice deliberately neutral.

The Commander tensed up. “Yes, sir. I’m in CC office space, alone. The room and the channel are both secure. Is this regarding General Kenobi?”

“Yes.” She replied. “My name is Master Bant Eerin; I’m a temple healer as well as a personal friend of Obi-Wan’s. He’s...he’s in the healing halls right now. We’re still trying to understand exactly what happened- I’ll tell you what I can but first we need to rule out any possible drugs he may have contact with. I need you to describe in detail anything he may have been exposed to that could have possibly had mind-altering effects.”

The Commander was a professional. He swallowed back his fear, his questions, and his demands to know what was going on.

“Of course. Everything on the Negotiator was GAR Standard, and I was with him when we left the ship. We went directly to the lower levels. The first time he was exposed to anyone outside the 212th was when we left our transport on level 3915. I...actually have footage of him the whole time night after that point. I’m sending it over right now, sir.”

“That would be extremely helpful, thank you.” He watched as she pulled it up on a second comm, sound barely audible.

He continued with his report: “One of the boys took it without permission. He didn’t mean anything by it, he’s just an idiot; I’ve already issued a severe reprimand. In any case, he brought it to me after I issued surveillance on the cantina, it tracks everything the General did- as far as I can tell, he had a glass of house grub wine, two shots of rancor blood, and an unnamed mixed cocktail ‘on the house.’ You can see everything the bartender added- as far as I can tell nothing was slipped in. He just... blacked out suddenly after the fourth drink, and quickly startled awake, confused by his surroundings.”

“I see.” Her tone was still carefully neutral and Cody didn’t know how to read her expression. He waited, wishing he was wearing his bucket so he didn’t have to keep schooling his face into professional patience.

“You brought him back to the temple...correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

She let out a deep breath, gills fluttering slightly. “We’ll probably have more questions later, but please understand our inquires are entirely based around determining how we can best help Obi-Wan. This call and any future ones are not intended, and should absolutely not be interpreted, as indications of blame. He’s actually spoken to me about you before, I know he has the deepest respect for you, personally and professionally. Someone will likely be assigned to talk to everyone whose spent time with him recently, including myself.”

The sick feeling in his gut from last night returned full force. “I...believe I understand sir. His condition is serious, then?”

Her gills fluttered again.

“Even now, I think we can safely anticipate a full physical recovery. He...there’s no easy way to say this...it appears he attempted to end his own life. Knight Skywalker got to him just in time, and he received bacta within minutes of the initial burn. I...like I said...we’ll began work to figure out why-”

Her voice broke and she stared up, large tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She hastily wiped them away.

“Rest assured commander, he’s getting the best treatment possible. Thank you for your assistance. I’ll do my best to answer any questions you might have right now. This is my personal comm link- please feel free to reach out to me at any point for updates.”

“I-” Cody cleared his throat. “Can I come to the temple? To...” he trailed off, not sure how to finish.

“Not tonight, I’m sorry. The healers need to focus; he’s not allowed any visitors until he’s out of Bacta, I’m afraid.”

“Skywalker must be throwing a fit at that” Cody remarked numbly.

The healer winced. “Knight Skywalker is currently sedated. He was...injured in the struggle to keep Obi-Wan from further harm. Master Windu witnessed part of it, but we’ll have to wait until its safe to wake him to get the full story. I’ll be notifying Captain Rex of the situation after we finish speaking.”

“I’ll do it.” Cody offered immediately. “Tell me what happened.”

Eerin hesitated.

“Please, Sir. It will be better coming from me and...if he’s the only other trooper who’s being informed at the moment...”

“Of course,” she said quietly. “We don’t know the full circumstances, but at some point in performing emergency care for Master Kenobi, Knight Skywalker was stabbed in the lower abdomen with a vibroblade. It pierced his large intestine. The blade was pulled out shortly before healers arrived, causing some further damage and blood loss. He’s already finished surgery, and should only need a few hours of Bacta at most. Considering his extraordinary past recovery rates, he’ll likely be out of bed tomorrow and fully healed by the end of the week.”

“General Kenobi wouldn’t...” Cody trailed off again. He was having a hard time putting coherent sentences together.

Bant looked at the ceiling for a moment, seeming to collect her thoughts.

“Psychosis can have many manifestations. Even with- with conventional injuries, people can mistake help for harm. There’s just too much we don’t understand, and only so much we can learn before they wake up. Are you certain you wish to be the one to inform Captain Rex?”

“Yes.” That was about the only thing the Commander was certain of right now. “Is there anyone else in the GAR I should inform of...anything?”

“The military aspect of this isn’t my area of expertise. If there’s someone you trust who can be a support for you, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to tell them in confidence. Some form of what happened is going to get out eventually.” she replied. “Please use your discretion, I suppose. It’s...not really my speciality but I imagine you’ll receive further orders on how much to release to the GAR once Obi-Wan’s stable.”

Right. Discretion. Because Obi-Wan wasn’t just Obi-Wan- he was a high general in charge of nearly 1/3 of the republic’s forces. If word of this got out to the wrong ears it would cause mass panic, maybe even an emboldened separatist advance. It was an insane amount of responsibility for one person, no wonder - he deliberately didn’t finish the thought.

“I’ll comm the Captain immediately. Thank you for the information, General.” he said out loud.

“Feel free to contact me for further updates, and tell Captain Rex he’s welcome to do the same. I’ll message you when its clear to visit the halls.”

“Yes, Sir.” Cody responded, saluting automatically.

“Take care of yourself, Commander Cody”

The hologram blinked out. Cody sat motionless for several long moment before sweeping his desk off, sending the assorted flimsies and redundant comm-units of various designations to the ground.

He stared at the empty desk, then tapped a button on his wrist comm, opening a private audio channel. “CT-7567, please come in” he said calmly.

“Cody?” came the alarmed reply. “I’m here, what’s going on?” Why did he sound so panicked? He had deliberately used his calmest voice. Oh well.

“Please report immediately to CC Office 12 in Guard Headquarters”

“I’ll be there in 10″

Cody hung up. He stared at the blank wall. He knew something was wrong with how the General said goodbye.

He opened the single desk drawer and dumped the odd wires and coins inside to the floor. Eerin had said burn. That could mean a lot of things, but lightsaber was the most likely.

Cody puked profusely into the empty drawer. He stared at the vomit for a moment before carefully closing the drawer. He still felt a little sick. He hadn’t even said anything back to the General, he just stood there, frozen.

He stared vaguely at the wall across, wondering if he was going to puke again.

Rex burst into the room. “Cody! What’s going on?! You- kark, what is that smell?”

“I puked in the desk drawer” Cody explained.

Rex shut the door behind him and slowly walked over. He knelt down next to the desk, gently taking Cody’s hands in this own. “Cody. Vod. Talk to to me.”

“Obi-Wan tried to kill himself.”

Rex’s hands tightened over Cody’s compulsively and Cody squeezed back harder. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Rex’s expression.

“Some of ghost company went out for drinks last night. Obi-Wan started acted oddly. We flew towards the temple. He started crying. We got to the temple. He Keldabe kissed me. He told me goodbye. I didn’t say anything back.”

“Oh, vod” Rex whispered. He gently pulled the slack Cody off the chair and onto his lap on the floor. Cody continued mechanically. “I did reports today. Skywalker said he was with him. I left Obi-Wan a message. I don’t think he saw it. He tried to kill himself. Skywalker must have left him alone. He saved him. Obi-Wan stabbed Skywalker.”

Rex froze, still holding on to Cody.

“The healer called. Asked about drugs. They don’t think its drugs but they had to ask. She said they’re both going to heal completely fine. I have a link if you want to call the healer directly. That’s...it. I have reports to do now.”

Rex held Cody tighter. “Not right now”

“It’s war. People get hurt. People die. I have work to do”

“Not right now,” Rex repeated. “You have the right to be upset. You have the right to grieve. You’re a person, of course you have feelings.”

“Obi-Wan said that.” Cody whispered. Then he started crying. He continued to quietly sob for some time, hurt and bewildered and scared. They sat on the floor together; Rex barely moved, simply held on to his older brother as he fell apart.

Inevitably, Cody’s tears dried up and he pulled away.

“I don’t know how to clean this,” he said gesturing at that closed drawer.

“I’ll take care of it. Let’s just get you to bed. There’s CC bunks here, right?

“Yes but...”

Cody didn’t really like sleeping so isolated, but he also couldn’t imagine facing the 212th right now.

“I’ll stay here with you. We’ll go to the temple together in the morning.”

Rex shepherded Cody to the fresher. He stared at the mirror with a vague sense of recognition before automatically moving through a standard sanitation routine. By the time he finished, Rex had joined him in his room.

“What did you do with the vomit?” Cody asked, suddenly exhausted. They slipped into bed together.

“Swapped the whole desk with Pond’s. That bastard knows what he did.”

Cody let out a snort. Then, much to his surprise, he sank heavily into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Part X

#star wars #my au #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au no 27 #potentially triggering #attempted suicide #injury #all off screen this chapter #character is not actually suicidal but is severely divorced from reality due to space wizard plot device #starwars #codywan #angst #fanfic

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

Text

Addicted To You

Part VI: Hold On Loosely

Summary/Author’s Note: ITS BEEN SO LONG. I MISSED FRANKIE SO MUCH. also. Holy shit, I love you guys. Part I -- has been my first fic to reach 500+ notes and that is just bananas to me and also wild that it was Frankie that did it. He deserves all of the love.

So, for those who have seen the movie know what is about to happen. But it might not be in the way you think. We get a little bit more Reader and Pope interaction and someone mentioned wondering about her relationship with Benny and I was like Oh perfect timing for this then...Enjoy. Gif credit to @pascalplease

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pope’s Sister!Reader Word Count: 4.1k Warnings/Rating: R/18+ Language, TOM (yeah he moved up), No one fucking listening to Frankie, Frustration, Intense situations, FUCKING murder, pining/longing, getting slightly turned on by Frankie piloting again--don’t lie we all do it, Frankie distress, blood/injuries

Part I * Part II * Part III * Part IV * Part V (bold means smut**)

[MASTERLIST]

“What’s my name?!” he yelled over the wind of the helicopter behind him.

“I-I don’t know,” She hugged her own body, clutching the duffel bag to her chest and looked at him with uncertainty. The wind blew her dark hair around her face and she made it a point to put herself between her younger brother and the man in front of her.

“Your buddy back there--” he swung his arm around and pointed. “What’s his name?” She shook her head and he raised an eyebrow. “I can just go ask him!”

“I said I don’t know!”

“Now,” he touched her arm and she had to fight not to shrug him off. He dipped his head and his tone was condescending. “When you two finally had sex--and you rolled over and said, ‘what’s your real name’--what’d he say?”

“That never happened!” She shrugged him off then and snarled at him. “He told me you served together...and that you were honest.”

“Why’d he say that?” Tom leaned back in mild surprise.

“Because I asked if he trusted you.”

“Why?”

“I was worried about you cheating him…”

The chopper had landed on the Peruvian border just like Pope had promised. They had dropped off the informant and her brother and although you couldn’t hear what was being said, you could tell by Tom’s dramatic body language and the disgust on her face that it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. Your brother handed her their cut of the money and touched her face tenderly as she held onto his arm and they said their goodbyes.

Tom stormed back onto the helicopter and sat down, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. You couldn’t help but think that he reminded you more and more of a child throwing a tantrum instead of a hardened military veteran leading a mission. It was as if he knew you were staring because he opened his eyes and looked at you. You averted your gaze quickly.

Pope cleared the threshold of the copter and took Benny’s seat as the younger man went up to take his shift with Frankie in the cockpit. Your brother put his headset on and opened his arm so you could lean against him and hug his side.

“You liked her, didn’t you?” you asked him, looking up with your head on his chest.

“I’m just glad she’s safe.” He said vaguely and you knew not to push the subject. He rubbed his hand up and down over your arm as if to warm you up and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“She’s lying,” Tom’s voice crackled through the coms on the headsets and both you and Pope looked at him.

“No, she’s not.” Pope said firmly and glared at the other man.

“You know what we should have done?” Tom let his thought remain unfinished and you felt your brother tense under your arms. Your stomach dropped as you realized what Tom meant. Before either of you could say anything, Will spoke up, always the voice of reason.

“That’s one you wouldn’t come back from, brother,” he said. He was leaning back against a few of the duffel bags with his arm propped up to keep his side un-strained.

The four of you were quiet for a long time, each mulling over Tom’s words in your own way as the chopper whirred around you rhythmically. The dark sky was crystal clear and you watched as the city below you slowly started to disappear and give way to the dark tops of the trees.

“You still doing okay?” Pope asked and you nodded.

“I’m exhausted,” you said, trying your best to stifle a yawn with his shirt. “But I’m worried if I sleep I’m going to wake back up in that mansion.” It was the first time you had admitted it out loud, but, however ridiculous, it was the truth. Every time you closed your eyes, it was as if you were back in that room, tied to that chair. The darkness that enveloped you wasn’t from sleep, it was the goddamn blindfold being put back over your eyes and it made your heart start racing as panic built in your chest.

“Hey,” Pope said, dipping his head to look at you. “You know I was going to find you no matter what, right?” He gave you another squeeze. “I wasn’t leaving this fucking jungle without my little sister.”

You released a heavy breath and laid your head back against your shoulder, smiling slightly and forcing your mind to remember that you really were safe. Before you could start to drift off, you opened your eyes and leaned back enough to look at him. “If I promise to try and sleep, will you go check on Frankie?”

Pope chuckled and rolled his eyes before succumbing to your request. “Yes. You rest and I will go check on Fish.” As he got up, he shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and tossed it over you before moving towards the cockpit.

"The weight drags when we get into higher altitudes so I want to keep it under 5,000 feet until we hit the Andes. We'll hit the ocean in four hours." Frankie's voice came through the com on your headset and you suddenly felt better. Tom's voice came through confirming that they had heard him and understood.

Four hours. Four hours and you would be headed home. After everything, it seemed like such a small amount of time and with Frankie at the helm, there was nothing to worry about.

When you woke up, it was because you were shivering. The main hull of the helicopter had dropped a considerable amount as it flew through the night and started to rise in altitude the closer it got to the Andes. Your brother was still gone but his jacket was pooled in your lap where it had slipped down off your chest. Both of the Miller brothers were sleeping peacefully and you were glad that Will had finally managed to get comfortable.

You sat up and slipped your headset back on so you could hear what they were saying. Standing up and stepping into the cockpit, the view out of the front of the aircraft was breathtaking. The mountains were huge, rocky crags that were covered in bright, white snow that reflected the sun off of its smooth surface.

"I'm gonna try and head for the two peaks I saw on the map. If we can aim for that valley it will be easier," Frankie said.

"Roger," Tom replied and both men looked up as you stepped over the threshold and put your hand on Frankie's shoulder.

"Hey, you," he said quietly, giving a small smile as you gave his arm a squeeze.

"It's beautiful," you said, clearing the sleep from your voice and nodding ahead of you. There was a clear divide between the lush, green trees on the mountains below and the drastic change in altitude that allowed for the snow to accumulate.

"It is," Frankie nodded, reaching forward and flipping up a small switch before putting both hands back on the joy stick. "You finally rest?"

"A little," you said. You pulled your headset down to rest on the base of your neck so you could lean forward and kiss his cheek gently. He kept his eyes ahead but the action made him smile, making the small lines at the edge of his eyes crinkle.

"Can you cut the domestic bullshit please?" Tom said, gruffly. "How steep do you think that is?" He pointed to the nearest peak and Frankie looked at him sternly.

"It's about 11,000 feet. We can't make that. I gotta find another way." Frankie shook his head and readjusted his grip on the controls.

"That's the quickest way to the ocean from here. You should go for it."

Both you and the man to your left looked at Tom in surprise and annoyance. Who was he to call the shots like this? This wasn't a matter of choice, this was a matter of if something was possible or not. You put your hand on Frankie's shoulder as the helicopter started to rise up the side of the mountain.

Frankie dipped his head to look up through the windshield, glancing down at all of the controls and watching as the lights started to flash in warning. You looked over your shoulder as Pope came up to stand behind you and watch what was happening.

"Alright, baby," Frankie said softly, talking to the aircraft. "Alright, baby, come on now."

He caressed the controls like he had caressed you. His fingers were familiar with them, what made them tick, and how best to move each dial and joystick. Frankie had always flown with a meticulous care that never failed to impress you--it was his favorite thing in the world. His heart lived in the sky and you loved that about him. A loud and rapid beeping drew you from your thoughts as the control panel started blinking red and orange.

"We're redlining man," Pope spoke up behind you as he pointed to the sensors.

"It's close though," Frankie grit his teeth and cursed under his breath. "It's too much weight. It's too much fucking weight. We're never going to make it."

"What does that mean?" Tom asked, sternly.

"It means we're losing fucking money."

"You wanna leave 50 million dollars in the middle of the jungle?"

"You wanna get to the ocean?" Frankie snapped finally, his voice not leaving any room for argument from Tom. The other man glared at him for a moment before looking over his shoulder to address Pope.

"Alright, go do it."

The idea that Tom controlled what he imagined to be the fate of the money, but in reality it was all of your lives, was complete insanity to you--especially because he seemed to be so flippant about the importance of the latter. You looked over your shoulder as your brother lowered the hatch on the back of the aircraft and a bitterly cold wind filled the cabin. The Miller brothers started shoving duffel bags filled with money out into a free fall down to the snow covered landscape of the Andes.

The immediate beeping of the control panel quieted down and Frankie gave an approving nod. “That's feeling better.” He dipped his head lower, leaning forward in his chair as if the movement would help the craft in its painfully slow ascend over the mountains. “Come on. Come on.”

You held your breath as Frankie crested you over the top of the mountain and, just like he promised, there was the ocean. The sun glittered off the water as it rose in the sky and you felt a sense of relief that was comparable to how you felt when Frankie had cut you loose from your bindings in the mansion. Both times he had brought you a sense of safety that made your heart stutter against your ribs. Then the beeping came back. The aircraft paused for a brief moment before it dropped into a free fall.

Your ass hit the metal floor hard and your stomach twisted into knots like you were on a roller coaster. Santiago’s arm wrapped around your waist and hauled you up against him as the copter shook and the metal screamed, alarms going off from multiple places on the dashboard.

“What the fuck are you doing Catfish!?” Will yelled as he gripped the handle above his head and put a hand over the bullet wound on his side.

Frankie’s voice came through the headset, calmer than he most likely felt. ”One of the gear boxes is blown--I don't want to go into a spin.” You all continued to fall in the air down the side of the mountain and his voice became strained as he gripped the joystick and tried to balance it out. “We might be in trouble here. I'm losing altitude--we should land. We should land now.”

“Crash land here we all die!” Tom yelled, looking at his pilot with wide eyes.

“I'm trying to get her back to flat--”

“Prepare for a hard landing!” Tom barked behind at the rest of you.

Frankie flew back down over the canopy of the jungle, the snow giving way to the lush green of the treetops as he tried to maneuver towards the village that you all had seen during your first initial climb. Benny leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as he gripped the handle closest to him. You could feel your brother’s heart hammering against your back, but on the outside he remained calm for the sake of the rest of his crew.

“I can't land this with the drop bag under us. We should lose the money and maybe we don't die.” Frankie turned and looked at Tom. The man glared at him but remained quiet. The fact that now, looking certain death in the eyes, Tom decided to shut his mouth, pissed you off. And apparently, it did Frankie as well because without Tom’s permission he looked over his shoulder and yelled over his mic on his headset. “LOSE THE MONEY OR WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!”

“Fuck this,” you mumbled as you pulled Santiago’s arm from around you and scrambled to your feet.

You had been on flights with Frankie enough times that you knew what the external load release looked like. It was the only fucking leaver on the wall, after all. You leaned over Benny and grabbed the red handle and yanked it down. The cargo doors in the floor opened slowly but the canvas net bag full of duffel bags stayed securely attached to the bottom of the helicopter.

“Frankie! It’s not working!” You called out to him and he glanced back at you again.

“There's a manual override on the cargo hook!” His voice was full of worry as he told you to stop. “Let Benny do it--fuck!”

He cursed, watching as you ignored him and leaned over the open door to find the manual override. The wind from the blades and the altitude whipped your hair against your face and you grabbed onto the rope, feeling for a trigger mechanism of some kind. You cursed as black smoke billowed from the top of the aircraft and obscured your vision. The giant metal release was on the other side of the net and was way out of your reach.

“Spot me!” You turned and yelled at Benny as he fell to his knees beside you and you ripped off your headset.

Benny nodded and helped you lower yourself through the hatch and onto the rope. He gripped your arm as you extended your leg and landed a firm kick with your booth onto the latch. When the bag fell, the helicopter gave a jolt as the weight shifted and Benny toppled through the hatch with you. You screamed as you heard Pope call your name and you looked up to see that the only thing that connected you to the copter was Benny’s grip.

“Benny!” Will lunged for his brother and grabbed him by the back of the shirt. The ground was coming closer and closer as Frankie tried to level out the craft and land it in the middle of the field.

“I can’t hold us both!” Benny yelled back at the blond. “We gotta jump!”

“No!” Pope reached through the hole in the floor but Benny was right. He didn’t give them any time to argue as he let go of the edge of the hatch and the both of you dropped the last twenty or so feet to the ground.

You hit the ground so hard it knocked the wind from your chest. Bits of dirt flew into your mouth as you gasped and covered your face with your arm. As the helicopter touched down, dirt and debris whipped around in the air and you squinted to try and see through it all. The blade on the tail caught the dirt and the whole craft jerked sideways as huge chunks of metal flew directly toward you and Benny.

“Get down!” He grabbed you and shoved you back down onto the ground covering you with his body as it continued to spin and jerk. The metal groaned, the blades squealed and all you could think of was if Frankie was still in control of it or if you were all just holding your breath and waiting for it to be over.

Black smoke and chunks of upturned earth continued to fly long after the craft came to a stop but the blades still slowly continued to turn. Benny moved his body off of yours and helped you stand as you both took off running towards the wreckage.

“Santi!” You screamed at the top of your lungs.

“Here!” Your brother called back as Will popped the door open and they both started to climb up out of the sideways craft. “We’re fine!”

“Fish!” Benny yelled as he got to the front and your heart stopped. Both Frankie and Tom were not moving as fast as Pope and Will. The glass of the windshield was shattered, but still hanging in the frame and Benny quickly raised his knee and kicked it free in giant sheets.

Tom crawled out onto the grass and coughed, fresh blood coming from an abrasion on his eyebrow. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Help Fish.”

As soon as Tom was out of the way, Benny got down and leaned in, grabbing the other man by the forearms and hauling him out onto the ground.

“Frankie,” you breathed, running the rest of the way to him. Benny moved to the side as you approached and you threw yours arms around him tightly.

Frankie squeezed you tightly, before leaning back to hold you at arm's length. He dipped his head to look you in the eyes as he gripped your upper arms and shook you slightly. “What you thinking--what the fuck were you thinking?!”

You watched as blood slowly dripped down a fresh, large gash on Frankie’s upper cheek, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. He couldn’t look away from you. His eyes were wild and his chest was heaving and even though his words were harsh, his tone didn’t hold any anger--it held fear. Your eyes burned and your chest felt tight, and the moment he saw it reflected on your face, his resolve crumbled and he pulled you back against his chest.

“You scared the shit out of me, baby,” He confessed as he pressed his lips to the top of your head and shut his eyes tightly. “Fuck.” He shook his head and looked up at the man standing behind you. “Thanks, Ben.”

Benny nodded as he helped Will jump from the door of the helicopter and Pope crawled out behind him, with his rifle clutched in his hand. He started tossing gear down to the ground and they passed around backpacks and guns. Frankie let you go reluctantly as Pope hopped down to the ground and handed him a new bulletproof vest.

“They’re gettin’ into the fucking net,” Tom cursed and the rest of you looked up to watch as people from the nearby village had flooded the site where the bag had dropped. Sure enough, they were using tools and machetes to rip through the thick ropes of the drop net and get into the duffel bags.

”What’s the plan here?” Pope said, propping his rifle on his arm and looking around.

“We’re getting that money back over the mountain and to the ocean,” Tom said, fastening his vest and grabbing his own weapon. “Benny, cover us from that treeline there.” He pointed to the right. “Fish, I want you at that vantage point over there.” He pointed to the left and then continued. “That’s cocaine they’re growing, so they could have guns already trained on us from those watchtowers over there.”

“We got working coms?” Will asked and Tom shook his head.

“No, we’ll use hand signals. Pope and I will get out there and look as peaceful as we can--we’ll signal when we think it's secure.” Tom looked to each of them to make sure they understood before nodding once. “Move out.”

As they all started to move in their assigned directions, Frankie moved his rifle to one hand, so he could take yours with his other. “You’re coming with me.”

You didn’t argue, not wanting to leave his side regardless. You desperately wanted to inspect the cut on his face, but you knew while he was tasked with watching the back of Pope and Tom, Frankie wouldn’t dare think about himself. You could ask, but he wouldn’t let you, so what was the point? He moved you both up the hill and squatted low into the tall grasses of the field, pressing his right eye to his scope for a minute to make sure he had a shot lined up if he needed it.

As you both watched the retreating forms of Tom and Pope walk towards the farmers, Frankie glanced at you. “Are you hurt?”

“Scratches mainly,” you shook your head and looked down at your palms and arms. “That’s it. You’re bleeding, though.” You nodded towards his face.

“I’m fine,” he said stubbornly, like you knew he would. “Don’t do anything like that again.” His voice was flat and you fought the urge to snap back at him. The adrenaline had been high for you both, the last thing you needed was to fight with the man you currently needed most.

“We both are going to do what it takes to get home--”

“You don’t have to prove to anyone that you’re a badass--”

“Don’t pull that macho bullshit with me--”

The two of you glared at one another and then his face broke into a small grin. He rolled his eyes and mumbled something about you being stubborn before looking back through his scope. You knew he was just worried. Was it reckless to do what you did on the drop net? Absolutely. But this entire trip had been nothing but the five of them risking their lives for you, and you were tired. Tired of being the reason that everyone you cared about in this fucking jungle was in constant danger. So, when Frankie told you to be smart, it was because he just wanted you home. He just wanted you safe.

You stayed quiet as you both watched the scene unfold in the field below. Both Tom and Pope were talking with their hands, gesturing, and speaking quickly. Hearing what was being said wasn’t necessary, their body language was more than enough, this talk wasn’t going in their favor.

“Pope, what's he reaching for? Is that a weapon?” Frankie spoke with his gun against his shoulder as he used the hand that wasn’t on the trigger to press the button on his radio.

No response.

“Pope, do you cop-”

“Frankie,” you touched his shoulder as you remembered the coms were dead from the crash.

Frankie leaned back and glanced at you before looking to his radio and cursing quietly. Pope had his arms out in a defensive position, speaking quickly over Tom who had his hand on his gun. This was bad. This was very bad. Frankie adjusted his grip on the rifle and his body went still. Tom pulled his gun and it was as if everything before you happened in slow motion.

The villagers yelled and Tom used his handgun to fire into the chest of the one nearest to him. Then again and again. Blood blossomed to life through their clothing and they dropped to the ground. The second one of them took another step forward, Frankie pulled the trigger, doing what he was trained to do--protect those on your squad.

His rifle echoed and ricocheted back on his shoulder and the man who had stepped towards Pope dropped just like the three before him. You watched as the other men gave the order for the villagers to get back and the screaming continued. Benny ran down the mountain and Frankie stood but you didn’t move. You were frozen in place as you saw Tom raise his gun at the unarmed man, now struggling to breathe, on the ground. You may not have liked him to begin with, but now you knew--Tom was going to get all of you killed.

Perm Tag List Part 1:

@rae-gar-targaryen @zeldasayer @winters-buck @gooddaykate @jigglemiwa @seawhisperer @halefirewarrior @ripleyafterdark @phoenixhalliwell @thebakerstboyskeeper @honestlystop @lackofhonor @readsalot73 @cryptkeepersoul @skdubbs @cahooter @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @googiebeankat @dinohaze @saltywintersoldat @huliabitch @silver-lined-solitude @tainted-gay-ghost @roxypeanut @hayley-the-comet @domino-oh-damn @maybege @corvueros @pettyprocrastination @qveenbvtch @hopplessdreamer @ @apples-of-february @pocket-of-anxiety @marie-is-in-the-dark @agentpike @pascalplease @cosmicbug379 @your-pixels-are-showing @gamingaquarius @blushingwueen @crimsonandwhiteprincess @bluemoon-glen @river-soul @robbinholland @nerdypinupcrystal @fleetwoodmactshirt @jaime1110 @fioccodineveautunnale @fantasticcopeaglepasta @kid-from-new-zealand

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #Frankie morales x you #Triple Frontier #pedro pascal #pedro character fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #addicted to you

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

Those Who Are Kind

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Summary: Siblings are the last thing on Marinette’s mind as she begins her frantic search for Tikki. Really, she can’t even consider them siblings, not yet. But they’re along for the ride, whether she wants them to be or not.

Duke doesn’t know what to make of the current situation.

He’s always known that the Waynes are crazy, insane, even, but he loves them all the same, in the begrudging, cautious way he cannot shake. (This approach has served him well over the years, allowing him to avoid multiple schemes that Tim or Jason typically start up to rile up Damian. From there, everything is guaranteed to snowball. The only time things get really bad is when Cass gets involved.) To him, it’s always been a bit uncanny how similar all the brothers looked, despite the fact that none of them shared blood. All of them had the same sharp jaw, piercing blue eyes, chiselled cheekbones and defined bodies. Only Tim and Damian differed slightly, with Tim having a dancer’s figure instead of that of a body builder or demolitions expert, and Damian having green eyes instead of blue. It’s also disconcerting that everybody the Waynes are more intimately involved with have some sort of alter ego. He often joked with other members of the Justice League that heroism ran in Bruce’s blood.

With the new addition of Marinette to their family, he has to say that he’s been proven right.

A girl who had absolutely nothing to do with the Waynes in any capacity other than the fact that she and Bruce share blood becoming a hero. The leader of a team. Fighting supervillains at the age of thirteen.

He’s very, very glad that he was not adopted by or shared blood with Bruce. He doesn’t think he could have handled being a superhero at age thirteen. He can barely handle being Signal now some days, and he’s an adult. The amount of responsibility on Marinette’s shoulders is difficult to understand. To be the sole wielder of magic that can revert an entire city back to its original state. To bring people back from the dead.

Dick is strangely quiet. A car is driving them from a pit stop near a zeta tube to Marinette’s hospital.

Hands down, Dick is the most sane male of the Wayne family, not including Alfred. But there are times when Duke sees the weight that he carries. All the times that he refuses to talk about the burdens that he bears. Moving forward with a smile when he’s in pain. When he gets in a mood like this, he’s hard to read. But given the circumstances, it’s fairly clear exactly what’s bothering him.

“He’s known about her this entire time,” Dick says, tinted windows allowing Duke a glance at his expression, carefully devoid of any telling emotions. “Nineteen years. He kept her a secret.”

“It’s Bruce.” The man is known for keeping secrets.

“Yeah, but Marinette is family. She should have been, at least. And now…”

Now she’s all alone when she should be surrounded by people that love her, praising her for her victory, for how she shouldered so much responsibility at such a young age. But by bringing her to a hospital in America, she’s been cut off from her team, and any support system she should have had is gone.

“You and her,” Duke says, looking for a way to comfort him. “You’ll get along. You’re similar, after all.” After they brought Gabriel and Lila to the a top security prison and sent Emilie to a hospital that couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her, they got two files from Tim. One detailing Ladybug and all of her exploits. The second, detailing Marinette’s life.

Duke has watched the videos. Has watched how Ladybug leads by example, comes up with the plan and begins the execution. How she shoulders more battles than she should.

He’s seen Marinette pull people together with a smile on her face, even while she’s running on empty after a strenuous akuma attack.

Dick and Marinette are alike.

“We’re too much alike,” Dick says. “I suspected for a long time that Bruce had another kid that he wasn’t telling us about, but I thought that if he was keeping her away from us, then maybe she’d have a shot at leading a good life. A normal life. Not the one she got. Sabine’s— Bruce’s biological daughter shouldn’t be somebody like me. She deserves better.”

Duke is acutely aware that Dick’s parents were also murdered, but whatever relation he had with Sabine is something he’s never been willing to talk about. There are pictures in his apartment of a petite Asian woman with a soft smile standing next to him, but whenever asked about her, Dick never gives a straight answer.

“Nobody has the ability to change the past.” Duke claps a hand on his friend’s shoulder. He sags imperceptibly under the weight.

Well— actually, it’s not out of the realm of possibilities, given the fact that magic, aliens, and metahumans all coexisted, supplemented by the fact that multiple members of Marinette’s team do have the ability to travel back in time, but that’s another matter entirely. There’s not a lot of information on the Miraculous, and all of their knowledge is coming from Wonder Woman, Aquaman, and Zatara, and even the three of them don’t know everything.

“But you have the chance to do good by her. Be a good older brother, like I know you are.”

A thin smile appears on Dick’s face. “She’s going to need more than just one good influence on her life. And Damian is better, but you saw how he looked at her when Bruce brought her through the Zeta tubes. Tim’s not going to react well either, and Jason is a wild card. She’s not going to get the support she needs if she stays with us.”

Duke crosses his arms, knees brushing up against the back of the car seat. “The only person whose actions you’re responsible for are your own. Don’t worry about them. If they don’t like her, they’ll just avoid her.”

That’s certainly not true— all of the members of the Wayne family are notorious for going hard after all of the things they don’t like. But... it’s comforting to hear. Sometimes temporary and known lies are much nicer than harsh realities.

She’s gone.

All of her belongings are missing, the IV needle is hanging from the stand, the window open, and Marinette is missing from her bed.

At least she left a note?

Be back soon — Marinette

“Great,” Duke mutters under his breath. “Another incredibly vague, cryptic Wayne.”

Dick’s face turns to ash. “Her legs. Her head. She can’t go out so soon. Hold on, maybe Barbara can pull up some footage.”

“On the bright side, there’s no blood,” Duke says.

“That’s not a bright side.”

“It is,” Duke argues. “She fell in the worst places possible, right on top of that broken glass casket. If she’s not bleeding that clearly means she didn’t pull her stitches on her mad escape out.”

When Ladybug fell, they’re not exactly sure what happened, because the screen showed Ladybug collapsing almost gracefully. When they arrived on the scene, she flickered between Ladybug and Marinette as her earrings beeped. Her legs were slashed from falling on the glass with a seemingly unnatural force— simply falling would not have garnered cuts that large— and her head was twisted at an odd angle, debris bloodied beneath her.

Somehow, the Miraculous Cure seemed to be working backwards. Not from the epicenter out, but rather from the edge of the damage, in. It worked slowly, every mile taking minutes instead of mere seconds. It hadn’t happened before in any of the battles.

It was useful in apprehending Hawkmoth and Pavona, who were still knocked out. But Marinette, even after the Miraculous Cure washed over her, didn’t get healed. Her injuries didn’t revert. There was still a gash on her stomach from Hawkmoth’s cane, still muscles exposed on the back of her legs and blood on her neck. When she was first brought in, the doctors feared that she may be permanently incapacitated.

Good at keeping to her word at least. She came swinging through the window with worry on her face and grief in her eyes.

“I need to go back to Paris,” she says.

Dick will undoubtedly say no. He’s a very protective person, and Marinette is the center of his current efforts.

But she doesn’t look injured. He eyes her stance. She’s standing with no effort, walks with no limp. No hospital dress, no blood on her neck, no bruises in all of the places he was expecting them to be. Marinette does not look like she just faced a world ending threat less than twenty four hours ago. She certainly doesn’t look like she’s permanently lost the use of her legs. There’s the familiar Wayne Brand Stubbornness in her eyes— no way she’s not Bruce’s kid— that tells him that she’s going to get to Paris one way or another, and that they’re either lucky they were even notified in the first place or that she wants to use a resource that they have that she does not have access to. It’s fairly obvious what that resource is, considering that Paris is nine hours away by any normal plane and it sounds like she wants to get there in minutes, and not hours. Duke also knows that if they don’t take what she’s offering now, she’ll use an alternative method that definitely won’t be as nice or clear cut.

He jumps in before Dick can say anything. “We’ll take you as long as we go with you every step of the way.”

Oh, he’s going to get in so much trouble for doing this. Dick is looking at him with his Disapproving Dad glare, and he can imagine Bruce going into brooding silence when he hears that Duke allowed this to happen.

Marinette’s lips pinch together, but she nods. “Where’s the nearest zeta tube?”

Barbara gets Dick’s text and sighs in frustration.

She’s already got her hands full with watching Tim, who’s spiralling trying to find information about the Miraculous, muttering under his breath in the way he does when he gets a particularly hard case to crack. He’s gone through six cups of coffee in the last hour, and he kicked off his research with a combination of 5 Hour Energy, Monster, three packets of sugar, and 10 caffeine shots. Soon, she’ll have to start limiting his caffeine intake, but right now it’s clear that any attempt to get him to stop his research now will fail spectacularly. At least she’s not in charge of Damian and Jason. Wherever they are, they’re definitely on the move and not happy.

She never thought she'd be able to say she’s happy about being paralyzed from the waist down, but she certainly doesn’t want to be chasing after one of the two hellions. Cass definitely has her hands full and whoever’s watching Jason— wait, is anybody even watching Jason? Typically Roy gets stuck with Jason-sitting duty, but he’s been out for a while.

Barbara groans. Jason is probably on his own, wreaking havoc.

Great.

She’ll deal with that later, even though she has no doubt she’ll regret that decision, but if Marinette is gone from her room, Dick needs the footage, and somebody needs to find where she is. The nurse put in her latest report that her legs were almost healed and that she didn’t show any signs of a concussion, but Marinette was in bad shape when she got admitted to the hospital. Even though Barbara doubts that there was any misdiagnosis, given that Bruce sprung for a VIP room in one of the pricier hospitals, in a world where magic and aliens are present, who knows what’s true or not.

“Tibet!” Tim jumps up from his hunched over position for the first time in hours. “I’m going to Tibet, the closest zeta tubes are three hours by car away, but I can get somebody to loan Wayne Industries a helicopter while I’m over there.”

“Sit down, Tim.” Barbara takes her glasses off and pinches the bridge of her nose. Why can’t Bruce rein in his children? Why is she the one stuck babysitting? “Marinette left her hospital room.”

That certainly gets Tim to put the brakes on his movements towards the zeta tube in the bat cave.

“What?”

“I said, she left her hospital room. Just sit down while I send the information over. It’s not going to do you any good to rush into things anyways.”

A quick review of the surrounding CCTV shows that Marinette didn’t travel far, just around the hospital. She’s looking for something, calling out for it, too. Barbara grabs that file and slows it down so she can read her lips. “Dickie? Do she and Dick know each other already?”

A quick text back to Dick reveals that Marinette has already returned to the room and—

Oh, hell.

“Well,” Barbara pushes her laptop away from her, letting Tim watch the files she’s pulled up. “It looks like we’re taking a family trip to Paris.”

Somehow, Marinette almost manages to lose all four of them within the first four minutes of roaming around Paris.

Luckily, their family has an almost absurd amount of luck between all of them (not all of it good) and the person Barbara was half sure she could only find in prison, beating up Hawkmoth and Pavona, runs into Marinette on the streets and herds her back to them.

“Lose something?” Jason asks, arm slung around Marinette’s shoulder, the smaller, younger girl looking rather upset at having her plans thrown off.

“I told them that they could follow me,” Marinette argues without much real bite. It’s not my fault if they can’t keep up, is the clear meaning of her statement.

Again, Barbara is very impressed that the barely nineteen year old somehow managed to shake off vigilantes with decades of experience with ease. But it is, at least, partially due to her disability. Every time she goes out in her wheelchair, her heart aches a little, especially as the civilians she passes eye her with pity. Barbara doesn’t want pity. Doesn’t need pity. She shouldn’t feel anything when people look at her like she can’t keep up, because she can keep up.

Most of the time, anyways.

It doesn’t matter how she uses her tech skills to modify her wheelchair and deck it out with all the equipment she could ever need, or that she can easily get up to speeds rivalling sports cars for short periods of time before the power runs out. When she’s stuck in her wheelchair, she loses the maneuverability she had when she wasn’t paralyzed.

She couldn’t follow Marinette through the alleyways because she was stuck. Barbara was the one who noticed her escape first. If only she were more capable, she could have—

But it’s okay now. Jason ran into her. Marinette is back with them.

“I need to search for something, and none of you can help.” She’s not intentionally being rude when she says it, and if anything, sounds apologetic. Barbara sees the similarities between Marinette and Bruce. It makes a lot of sense that the two of them are father and daughter, when the two of them are so insistent on keeping major issues to themselves. Marinette twists herself out from underneath Jason’s arm, clutching her purse. Her head doesn’t move, but her eyes are wild.

“We can help,” soothes Duke, ever the voice of reason. “You know who we are.”

“And I’m guessing you’ve all either deduced who I am or have been told my identity,” counters Marinette. “Which means you should know why I can’t have you helping me.”

Barbara and Duke exchange pointed glances.

“That’s not really clear to us, actually,” says Barbara. Marinette isn’t moving, but the way her shoulders tense makes her believe that the younger girl is ready to run at the drop of a hat.

A small group of people from the parade on the streets tumbles into the alleyway they’re resting in. They smell like cheap booze and sweat.

“What are all of you doing in this alley?” one says, after he finished vomiting up his last (very colorful) meal. “You should be out there partying with the rest of us! Celebrating Ladybug and her team.”

“Fuck Hawkmoth and Pavona,” says another solemnly, with neon face paint and pigtails with glitter string intertwined. “Their defeat should be celebrated by even the darkest souls.”

Jason, easily amused by their antics, looks very willing to join them. “Yeah Marinette, we should be celebrating Ladybug not—”

As one, everybody looks at the place where Marinette was, just moments ago. The alley is decidedly empty of a small asian girl with blue eyes and pigtails.

“Fuck,” Jason curses.

“Fuck is right,” Duke agrees, placing a hand over his temple.

Marinette manages to disappear for three hours.

Three full hours.

“She’s good,” Tim says, typing into the holographic computer embedded into his sleeve.

Paris’ CCTVs are painfully easy to hack into, though he suspects that the lack of attention to them may have to do with the fact that everybody in the city is celebrating. Policemen, politicians, artists, students, scientists— people from all walks of life are in the streets today, screaming and shouting and being free for the first time in years.

He spies more than just a few dozen people bawling their eyes out within a few minutes. But that’s not surprising, considering how long Parisians have had to suppress their emotions for.

Dick and Barbara are still in the midst of profiling Marinette, trying to determine the most likely places where she’d stop by, either as Ladybug or herself. All of Ladybug’s usual haunts are decidedly devoid of the young heroine, though Tim does manage to catch a good amount of footage of the other young heroes like Carapace and Rena Rouge, who are most definitely in a relationship based on their makeout session on top of the eiffel tower (one of the first places Tim checked), Viperion, who seems to be the only one from Ladybug’s team to be seeking out the crowd which seems rather atypical considering that the hero never frequented interviews or was spotted on news coverage all that frequently, and Chat Noir and Queen Bee who Jason insisted were in a relationship as well, though the rest of them believed they were only embracing each other out of comfort— Chat Noir looks like he’s been crying for hours, and Queen Bee looks like she’s barely holding it together.

Ryuko has not shown up on camera once today. Neither has Ladybug.

The second place Tim checks is the bakery. She is not there either, though another girl is. It doesn’t seem like the girl has any ill intent, but Duke is more than happy to pull up past files to see if she’s been there before, if she has any reason to be there, and who exactly she is.

Just as Barbara and Dick are debating the chances that Marinette would be at Le Grande Paris, she walks past one of the cameras focused on Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie. Tim has the system rigged up so that any facial matches for Marinette automatically alerts the room. He hadn’t been able to replicate that with Ladybug’s face for some bizarre reason which is why he, Barbara, Dick, and Jason are manually combing through the areas where Dick and Barbar think she may be (magic is why, but Tim has always believed that technology can be used against and with most forms of magic) so it’s lucky that she enters as Marinette.

“Kagami Tsurugi,” Duke says triumphantly. “She visited often when Tom and Sabine were still alive. Potential candidate to represent France or Japan for Sabre in the next Olympics. Definitely friends with Marinette.”

“Thank God,” sighs Dick. “Now let’s get over there.”

It’s truly, truly unfortunate that they set up shop quite a distance away from the bakery.

They take too long to arrive.

Perhaps it was a mistake, telling Kagami first.

No, not just perhaps. It was a mistake. A bad one.

But Kagami was pushing so hard, and Marinette was so tired and so alone without Tikki at her side, without the knowledge that her parents would be waiting for her. Kagami pushed and pushed and pushed about why the house felt so empty, why there was dust on the floor, why the bakery was closed for so long, and where were Tom and Sabine? Why weren’t they there for the team yesterday, when the battle was won, when they knew how important it was to be there for Adrien who had just lost all three of his parental figures?

The moment the words fall from Marinette's lips, she knows she shouldn’t have revealed it at that moment, because Kagami draws in on herself, lips turning downwards, hands curling into fists.

Kagami has come a long way from the girl she was in lycèe. The thrill of victory is still something she enjoys, but not something she needs to feel secure in her place in the world. She has trouble expressing her emotions, but when it comes down to it, she communicates everything necessary to understand why.

With the news of Tom and Sabine’s death, she withdraws into herself, shifts back into that thirteen year old Marinette first met. Logic and rationale thrown to the wind in favor of cold anger.

It’s no secret that Ryuko, Ladybug, and Viperion are the main strategists of their team. Viperion, out of his duty of using Second Chance and his ability to keep a level head in the face of constant death. Ladybug out of necessity as her position as team leader and the power of Lucky Charm. Theoretically, the two of them should have been enough. But over the years, Kagami became Marinette's favored confidante; though Ladybug trusts all of her team to keep a tight hold on any information she gives them, Kagami is one of the few who is able to pick apart a given situation and transform the monsters they face into manageable pieces.

Today, it is Kagami who has broken to pieces. Very angry, razor sharp shards that seek to hurt.

“You lie to the media, tell them a pretty tale of how they died due to a break in. Why do you avoid pinning their deaths on Lila as you should? To absolve a quality woman from guilt?”

Marinette can’t look Kagami in the eyes.

Her parents deserved a peaceful death. To pass on in old age, hand in hand. Not looking on as a family member died, in fear of what would happen next for their daughter.

“The police know. The judges know,” Marinette protests weakly, but without much eight behind her words.

Kagami just scoffs. “Tom and Sabine were kind people. To not tell the media what truly happened— that’s preventing Lila from getting the full force of what’s coming to her. What happens if she gets out of prison one day? Without any real deaths to her name, she could just flee to another country to escape it all. And when another person loses their life because of her…”

She doesn’t need to finish her sentence. If somebody else gets injured in any way, shape or form at the hands of Lila Rossi, it’s Marinette’s fault. Marinette gets what Kagami is trying to say. She thinks the same thing, after all.

“My parents would not want their death publicized in that manner.” It’s the truth, but it’s said so weakly that the words come off as little more than a weak defense, and Kagami takes the words and twists their truth.

“You know little of your parents, considering that you’re their daughter.” Kagami stands stock still, not a single extra muscle moving. “Perhaps if you spent more time with them as Marinette instead of unsuccessfully gallivanting around as Ladybug, you’d have realized that Tom and Sabine admire truth above all else, even if it is painful.”

Kagami does not ask a single question about where Marinette was last night, or how Marinette felt over the loss of her parents or when she saw all those she held dear lying still on the ground after Hawkmoth and Pavona’s final attacks. She just purses her lips and sweeps out the door.

And then she’s gone, and Marinette is alone once more.

The bakery is bone-achingly quiet.

Every step Marinette takes creates such a disturbance in the peace that moving hurts.

But she can’t stay here. She can’t stay here. She does not deserve to stay here. Kagami is right. Marinette was a bad daughter. She could have prevented their death, could have given them justice sooner, could have—

And Marinette can’t breathe. She tries to, she tries so hard to, but she chokes.

She kneels down on the floor— Kagami is right again, the place is dusty, because Marinette couldn’t bring herself to use the living room and kitchen without her parents, could barely bring herself to sleep in her bedroom because she knew that her parents were not sleeping soundly in the bed below hers— and scrabbles at her throat, vision coming in and out.

Her legs burn. She knows that during the final battle, her legs were cut towards the end of it, and they should be healed, she should be okay now, she’s better than this, she’s—

Somebody gathers her in their arms. They smell slightly of Lotus flowers, just like Maman, and cradle her ever so gently.

Marinette’s eyes open— black hair, greyish eyes filled with understanding and love and—

She can breathe again.

She falls asleep.

“Cass?” Dick’s eyes widen at her unexpected appearance at Marinette’s home.

“I thought you were on Damian guard duty,” Barbara says, fixating on the red around Marinette’s eyes and the barely dried tear tracks on her face.

“Where’s that Kagami girl?” Jason scuffs his shoes on the hardware floor, silently marking the footprints on the floor and getting a general idea of what occurred before they were able to get here based on Marinette’s current state and the other girl’s absence. “I want to have some words with her.”

Cass inclines her head sharply, eye sparking with anger. Jason’s fists rise unconsciously— Cass rarely gets angry, and whenever she gets angry at a specific person, that means they’ve done something very, very wrong— ready to hunt down Kagami. Marinette sniffles and shifts in Cass’ one armed embrace, to which Cass places a finger over her lip and shakes her head, a universal sign to be quiet.

Jason scowls but settles down.

They’re quiet as they wait for Marinette to wake.

@biodad-bruce-month

Maribat tag list(to be added onto this pls send me an ask/dm): @our-precipreciousss @my-dear-friend-anxiety

Who Are You (and what will you become) tag list (to be added here just comment): @anjuschiffer @theunquiet-dead @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @cresentmo0n @allulily @myazael @zalladane @rebecarojas07 @keepingupwiththemalfoys @frieddonutsweets @all-mights-asscheeks @thornalchemist23 @trippingovermyfeet @jiso-lee @redscarlet95 @ira-sairain @screechingflapbiscuitpeach @ramos123 @cutechip @theunquiet-dead @sleep-deprived-aroace @enternalempires @lilkymilky @woe-is-me0 @officiallydarkgeek @miyla-lokidottir @queencommonsense @demonicbusiness @iamablinkmarvelarmy

@emark7 (i will have the edited version of these on ao3 eventually but i think the link to ch 1 on this one works)

where i ended this doesn’t feel very good but ehhhhhhhhhh my writing process is summary then word vomit that barely correlates which means nothing makes sense unless i edit but looking back at my work makes me cringe so at a crossroads yayyy

also can you guys tell which prompts ive written these for because i’m curious

#bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #bio!dad bruce #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #bruce wayne #duke thomas #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #barbara gordon #tim drake #cassandra cain #batfam

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