#sad domino effect | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sexlapis · 6 months

Text

[◉°] … toji & y/n being a couple for 10 minutes straight pt.3

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡˚ 𓂋 ❄﹒✦﹒✿ ˚

꩜ actor!toji x actress!reader

⤷ synopsis : just toji & reader being idiots in luv…

꩜ content : crazy fans, very mild physical violence (toji pushing ppl lol), toji being a little ooc again. this is really not as wack as the warnings are making it sound.

- a/n : loads of people seem to be enjoying this & i enjoy making them, so here you go! :D

. . . part 1, part 2, part 4

masterlists

౨ৎ first clip

(recorded by your fansite) - you & toji are at the airport and it is packed. there are fans swarming you, practically suffocating you & toji, along with paparazzi taking pictures of you, flashing lights in your face. your bodyguards are literally at war trying to guard you and you have to cling onto toji’s arm to even get past the sea of people.

all of a sudden one fan somehow gets way too close, and grabs a hold of your shirt, trying to drag you towards him. you jerk forward and without even hesitating, toji just grabs the face of the crazy fan and pushes him away like it’s nothing, causing a domino effect having other fans falling over as well.

toji puts an arm around you and guides you to check your tickets, ignoring all the chaos he caused behind him.

(this got a lot of mixed reactions, some people siding with toji saying he was just protecting you & others criticising him for his rash actions that could’ve caused people to get injured 💀)

౨ৎ second clip

you & toji were doing a video for WIRED, taking part in their popular series, “Web’s Most Searched Questions” about yourselves.

“okay third question..” you say, and peel off the paper. “are _____ and toji..dating?”

you & toji look at the camera and then at each other, faces hot and you’re both awkwardly smiling before looking at the camera again. you & toji speak. “yeah, i dunno.” “nooo idea.” “literally no clue whatsoever.” “why even ask that like-like we’d know the answer?”

you peel the next question and it’s even worse. “are _____ and toji having- A BABY?!” you shout and cover your face laughing, both in shock and amusement. “what?!”

toji just facepalms, hiding his pink cheeks and sighs tiredly. “christ…”

౨ৎ third clip

you’re at a press conference for the series you and toji are in, all the cast members are gathered on a long table with microphones but it’s a pretty informal gathering and the fans are being very interactive with the cast!

a crew members hands the microphone to a fan who has a question. “hi! hi, i’m sarah and uhm..i have a question for toji. and _____ too! do you think that your characters have a chance of..like..getting together? like romantically-?”

“yeah we’re getting together,” toji responds bluntly, reeling in the loud cheers from the crowd & he decides to add fuel to the fire. “and we’re gonna have a make-out scene too.”

the audiences goes crazy with applause and whistles, while you pinch the bridge of your nose, shaking your head in embarrassment as the cast look to see your reaction.

then the director of the show pitches in, holding her finger up. “just to clarify, we did not discuss this..”

there’s a chorus of laughs and sad ‘awws’ among the pool of fans which only makes you giggle. you didn’t even know what to say to toji’s brashness.

gojo chimes in with his loud mouth while everyone is still buzzing from toji’s unexpected words. “talking about kisses and stuff like. this guy’s just saying what he wants to hear!”

everyone starts creasing up again and you & toji lean your heads to look at each other on opposing ends of the table, and he just smirks at you while you just shake your head and try not to look so obvious..

౨ৎ fourth clip

vogue did a video with you getting ready for a fashion show you were invited to, by the designer herself.

the makeup artists had just finished your shimmery, fairy-like makeup and now the stylists were accessorising you with jewellery and fixing your hair.

“yeah i really like how the hair is done,” you say, referring to the baby pink ribbon tied cutely around your bun. “it’s really cute! and the dress is just so-”

the door to the dressing room opens and toji pokes his head in, the camera zooming in on him. “‘ya done yet?”

“toji?” you ask, exasperated. “toji get out! we’re not finished yet..”

toji looks you up and down in confusion. “ya look done to me. we gotta leave in like-”

“toji i am clearly not finished. we have to go through which jewellery looks the best with the neckline of the dress and..my whole look altogether so it doesn’t drown me out! and then we have to pick the correct shoes and make sure i’m comfortable with them and that they look pretty but also don’t take attention away from the dress. and then for the perfume-”

“yeah, yeah, alright, i get it.” toji totes. “but we have to be there in 30 minutes so-”

“oh toji’.” you sigh, looking in the mirror while the stylist fuss around you. “it’s okay if we’re late. i’m the main event. the designer invented me personally. they won’t even start the show if i’m not there. it’ll be fine, trust me.”

toji looks at you for a moment and then simply shrugs, nodding and accepting your words.

౨ৎ fifth clip

“so yeah, this is the book i’m reading.” you hold up ‘pride & prejudice’ to the camera for your fans to see. you were on a livestream, which you don’t usually do, and many fans were watching. “i just love this book. the characters are-”

loud, thudding footsteps can be heard in the background and you pause. a deep, clearly a man’s voice can be heard and then a shirtless toji walks into frame (as identified by his tattoos bc his face is not on camera). he reaches out of frame.

“sorry, jus’ forgot my shirt.”

he puts his shirt on, not even realising what he just did in front of 50,000 people and walks out of the room

it all happened so fast, you sit with your jaw open like a fish, holding your now forgotten book in your hand while the chat goes wild, spamming questions of “who is that?” “is that toji?” “you and toji are together?” in a frantic, chaotic fashion.

you just look at the camera and reach forward, abruptly ending the live. fans did not stop talking about this moment for months and they most certainly did not believe you when you said toji was just at your house for a little ‘visit’.

౨ৎ

a/n: yk how hard it is to think of ideas for this omg 😭💔

#actor!toji #actress!reader #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji x self insert #toji fluff #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro fluff #toji zenin x reader

5K notes · View notes

fatuismooches · 1 year

Note

Hello!!! May i request how the habingers men act when they are drunk? How will the reader will take care of them? If you are not taking requests im very sorry you can decline my request

Imagine the Harbingers when they’re drunk.

Pierro is even more somber when drunk. It’s not like he does it on purpose, it just sort of happens. He does like to drink some wine to relax after many long days of work, but the idleness somehow always causes his mind to wander back to the old days, to before the Fatui. And he thinks. He ponders a lot and reminiscences about the past, how things could have been different. He has always been left alone with these wandering thoughts until you came along.

Don’t let the melancholic tone steer you away though. When Pierro drinks, he’s usually alone, but that’s not to say he doesn’t want you here. He’s been alone for as long as he could remember, even lonelier after the fall of his homeland. It was just natural for him to be this way. Having you there makes him unsure of what to do because he doesn’t want to make you sad, but please reassure him. Lay your head on his chest and put your hand on top of one. Tell him it’s okay, and it will always be okay, that you want to be here for the good and the bad, through everything. He’s silent, but Pierro appreciates your kindness so much more than he lets on. You don’t need to do much after that because your mere presence and warmth are more than enough for him as he strokes your hair until you fall asleep in his arms.

Dottore has a varying amount of emotions when he’s drunk. It really depends on which segment you’re talking to. The younger segments tend to get more argumentative with each other. The older ones are more mature and handle it better. With the younger segments, they’re a lot to handle, even more so when drunk. You’ve witnessed them throw stuff at each other, hurl some nasty words (about other people as well), and generally be gloomy at the end too. They can be immature and hotheaded compared to the older, calmer segments, but it’s honestly quite funny to witness. They just say the darndest things with the most humorous phrasing, sometimes gossiping about that one Harbinger who always cuts their funding. Thankfully, it doesn’t take much to placate them. The moment one of them starts to get pouty, you simply usher them into your embrace, successfully shutting him up. This has a domino effect, and soon you have a bunch of clones on your shoulders, hogging your lap, even against your legs.

Though, don’t expect the same outcome with the older clones, especially Omega and the original Zandik. Zandik has had his body modified to the point where such drinks do not have much of an effect anymore, and Omega is just… well, yeah, it takes far more than that to bother him. Zandik does not care for nutrition in general, much less alcohol, so you’ll rarely ever catch him drinking, but on the occasion you convince him to have a drink with you, he wouldn’t mind too much. It’s not as though he hates the taste. Though, a lot of it goes untouched because he tends to ramble on with his research and breakthroughs instead of drinking, so most of the time he ends up taking care of you.

Columbina gets even more clingy when drunk, if that’s even possible. While that aspect of her doesn’t change, she suddenly gains a lot more vigor. Normally she’s calm, eerily so, but it seems like the alcohol brings out a lot of laughing. The Fatui don’t know which side is scarier. She also has a very high tolerance and the recruits always watch in amazement as she downs bottle after bottle. She’s also the kind of girl who insists on refilling your drink. There’s not much you can really do than other go with her flow.

She’s very upbeat and giggly when drunk. Tugs you to your feet and twirls you around, giddily humming and swaying around with you until she dramatically falls back so you could catch her in your arms. Columbina has so much energy when inebriated that you wonder how she does it. But, always be on guard with this girl. She will stop all of a sudden, and then fall asleep and literally crash on top of you. The first time she did that you nearly had a heart attack as both of you were now on the floor, her body completely sprawled out on top of you. And she did not budge one inch. So you were stuck there until the next day when you woke up in the afternoon with her now in another weird position. But hey, there are not much people who have the opportunity to see the third Harbinger like this.

Capitano doesn’t drink very often. He sees it as unnecessary and more of a distraction from his duties than anything else. Even on the rare occasion he drinks, it’s not much to look at. The liquid just disappears behind the ever-present darkness that his helmet brings. You can’t see any blush, any smiles, any hazy eyes, nope. He has a high tolerance for quite literally anything so seeing him drunk is a tall order. If by any chance he does get drunk, which seems really impossible, Capitano gets a bit more clingy. When sober, although he does give a good amount of affection, it’s still a bit of a struggle for him. Because really, him? Of all people? Being soft? It’s still surreal to him and he’s still adjusting.

But on the rare occasion he’s tipsy, there’s a chance of him desiring such fondness, both giving and receiving. Normally, when sober, he gets a tad bit embarrassed and awkward when you shower him with love. But when he’s drunk, he’ll welcome it a lot more. Just silently though. He’ll always be a quiet man. He’ll return the favor with a strong embrace. He likes to hold you in his lap with an arm around your waist. For some reason, he likes to tilt the cup to your lips as if you can’t drink it yourself. He doesn’t really need to be taken care of, but it’s still cute nonetheless. Capitano prefers if you don’t bring up this experience. He’s honestly a bit mortified you saw him in such a disgraceful state. (You and Dottore definitely worked together to make this happen. There was no other way.) Then again, don’t get your hopes up too much. Your man is resistant to possibly every force in Teyvat.

Scaramouche doesn’t care much for alcohol. He is a puppet after all. The drink has no effects on him. And the taste doesn’t do much for him either, as he says it himself - he enjoys the taste of bitter tea far more. But, if you do manage to convince him, with all of his reluctance, he can’t deny that some sake and cherry blossom viewing is pretty nice. Although Inazuma brings up some distasteful memories for him, he can’t deny it’s beautiful. Kunikuzushi doesn’t talk about it, but he does have some warm memories regarding the drink. Sometimes, his family, his friends from all those years ago, would drink alcohol in celebration. The young puppet would watch in fascination and down all the bottles while his friends lay passed out in amazement. So really, despite all of his moaning and groaning, he won’t mind.

Even though Scaramouche doesn’t actually get drunk, you like to think he does from the way he acts around you. You have a tendency to drink more than you can handle so that you could see Scara reveal his secret affectionate side. Whining and slurring your words results in a lot of grumbling and eye-rolling from your lover, scolding you for your recklessness. But no one would ever believe you as he begrudgingly guides you to his lap, confiscating the sake cup. Rearranges his legs so you’re comfortable. Strokes your hair and brushes it away from your face, drunk on you. But then of course pinches your cheeks, earning a squeal and a few curses from you. After becoming the Wanderer, the taste is unsettlingly comforting for him. Perhaps because it was one of the things that began to connect you with him. Even if you can’t remember him anymore, he still likes to go to that same spot to enjoy some sake and the view.

Sandrone isn’t very much of a drinker. It distracts her from her work, and she’d much rather enjoy some tea and sweets too. So, it is going to be a long and arduous wait to see Sandrone drink, much less get drunk. That is until you recruit some of your favorite robots to oh, just innocently put a few drops of alcohol in her cup instead of tea. Luckily enough, she sips it without a thought. After all, there was no reason to be suspicious. She programmed these robots to obey her. The only thing is that she programmed them to listen to you too.

Please stop her from working. She’s been trying to unscrew this bolt from a robot for the last ten minutes and she still hasn’t realized she’s using the wrong screwdriver. Some Automatons may need to be enlisted for help but just get her away from that and into a chair. Sandrone huffs and puffs with a blushing face about how she’ll get revenge on you later, but you can’t really take her words seriously when she’s leaning on your shoulder so cutely. Her coat is off and her porcelain arms are intertwined with yours, her way of “punishing you.” You strive to get her tipsy more often in the future. At least she actually takes breaks that way. You’re so glad Sandrone built a Kamera into some of her creations because damn, it was really useful right now.

La Signora is a chatty drunk. She has the tolerance of a normal person, getting drunk after a good amount of refills. Many times she drinks to relieve some stress, as you have to listen to her complain about all the useless recruits and how unreliable her subordinates are most of the time. She always tells the best stories when drunk, always going into depth about how stupid this person was and how this person did that. It’s best not to interrupt or console her yet. She just wants to vent her frustrations right now.

How to take care of her? Just be a good lover by keeping her glass filled, her lap warm, and her boredom away. With all of the fuss she makes, she ends up winding down by the end of it to thoroughly enjoy your presence. Rosalyne gets very comfy during these sessions - hair flowing free from its usual bun, mask and makeup off, a silky nightgown adorning her body. She is a very tall yet soft lady, so her lap is much more suitable for sitting than any old chair would be, she tells you. Signora likes to have a firm grip on you, her hands playing with your hair as she swishes around the alcohol, her legs entangled with yours so you could not leave. Her voice tipsy and a bit slurred she’ll ask you about your day, what’s been going on, how she misses her lovely butterfly dearly. Anyone besides you would be shocked to know how sweet Rosalyne is as a partner. Experiencing love and loss changes a person more than what they show. So really, taking care of her means letting her take care of you.

Pantalone is a flirty drunk who has no problem telling you exactly what he thinks, very unfiltered. He is quite a charmer when sober, but alcohol turns up the flattery a hundred times more. A lot of times, the two of you have drinks together late into the night, after he is finally done with his paperwork and whatnot. Usually, it’s paired with an exquisite dinner. Of course, he only purchases and drinks the most expensive and delicious kinds of wine of course. Whenever he buys a new brand, he always does the same thing though, which you gladly welcome. Pantalone makes you take the first few sips, asks you how it is, and then kisses you to try for himself. You always playfully scold him but you can never be mad at that devilishly sweet smile.

Pantalone actually likes to be pampered and taken care of when he’s drunk. Brush his hair out, help him bathe and slip into his robes, tuck him under the blanket with you. More specifically, he likes when you read to him. While he can handle his liquor well enough, when he gets overly drunk, he gets quiet. You never pry into what exactly he thinks about, but after being with him for so long you can gather that he’s remembering his childhood. So, although his weight may crush you a bit, just let him lay on your chest for a while, stroke his hair while you talk, and take his glasses off once he’s asleep.

Arlecchino is a lightweight drinker. No one has ever seen her drink and it is because of that. She would rather die than have anyone witness her being drunk. She has only a few weaknesses, the most out-of-place ones being you and alcohol. Normally you wouldn’t mind, but it gets to be a bit awkward when you’re drinking and she’s just there with her cold hard coffee. Even during a relationship with you, she’s still adamant about not drinking. Arlecchino is serious about not appearing vulnerable in front of you. She doesn’t want you to think about her any differently.

She’s super observant too, so there’s not really going to be a chance of swapping her drunk. Perhaps if you beg and plead with her she could have just a cup with you. It is endearing to see her so unguarded and cute in front of you, but her lack of tolerance ends up cutting the quality time you have with her. There’s really not much you’re going to do when she’s drunk. Arlecchino tends to hiccup when drunk along with some intoxicated mumblings. Generally, she falls asleep rather quickly, so just cover her with a blanket and make sure no one enters her office. Otherwise, they’d have to die.

Childe is a happy drunk with a good amount of tolerance, so it’s a bit hard to see him actually get drunk, but it is certainly possible. He is instead the kind of person who tries to convince you to drink Fire-Water with him because he enjoys your drunk blabbering. He loves to bring up the things you said while drunk to embarrass you. While drunk he loves to chat and catch up with you, but he also tends to challenge you to drinking competitions (he has a competitive streak after all, always up for a contest) which usually ends up with you passed out and waking up the next morning to Ajax making breakfast (donning an apron if you’re lucky.) Though there have been times when you’ve been blessed to see a red-faced, drunk Ajax.

It would be funny if he was a fighty drunk. The kind of drunk who suddenly wants to spar with you out of nowhere. Wants to go to the Golden House with you but he can’t even make it halfway, literally about to make both of you fall from how much he’s clinging onto you. Though, it’s not too hard to take care of him, if you’re okay with a dozen smooches to your face and a lot of whining. He is incessant with his cuddling, arms tightly bound around you. It takes a lot of persuading to let him release you. What he would appreciate is a nice home-cooked meal at this point, especially if it's Snezhnayan. He’s the one who usually does all the cooking, so he’s actually really grateful when you make something for him. The only problem is that when he’s drunk, he wants you to feed him. After that, the only plan of action is to comply with his demands for cuddling in bed. Somehow, you still fall asleep after him because Childe refuses to slumber before you. Zhongli has dropped him at your house quite a few times so you’re used to the routine by now.

2K notes · View notes

enterplanetdust · 10 days

Text

i think of school shooters the same way that id think of a spoiled child being told "no" to having their third serving of ice cream for the day it's like they figure out that life isn't fair (which literally everyone else figured out at birth + mental illnesses) in spite of their many privileges and then they fucking lose it

and as much as i think back to eric harris and how i feel bad for him on occasion, for him and dylan to grasp at straws for reasons to hate others (which is not to undermine the bullying and torment they received) is insane to me (like him getting pissed about girls not calling him back or dylan slapping his coworker because she told him off about something).

all of this and their childishness in spite of the fact that they were literally planning a massive terrorist attack (which isn't so childish) is essentially prominent in how they mention that the shooting is their fault entirely. did they just think that bbecause you say something that it automatically becomes true? i mean, e&d were going to kill themselves and it ain't possible to bring a dead person to court, so of course they'd arrest mark manes and philip duran and bring robyn to court

i just don't think eric and dylan really understood the consequences of their actions because they were so caught up in this retarded escapist fantasy where they were the heroes in tarantino films (and teenagers). i think the concept of this just makes me sad in general, since the way they behaved during and leading up to the shooting was an obvious way for them to feel powerful and in control, which had been stripped from them by that very school.

i also don't mean to undermine the horrid environment at columbine and the obvious favoritism that plagued the student body and staff. harris and klebold were incredibly mentally ill, which when is combined with a toxic environment in which you spend your developmental years and a mutually hate-filled friendship, results in tragedy.

it also hurts my heart to read anecdotes about the victims, eric and dylan included, from those who loved them. hearing about how cassie bernall struggled with suicidality, thoughts of killing her parents, and briefly experimenting with the goth subculture made me wonder if eric or dylan ever considered that others felt the same pain and troubles that they did. hearing about how devon adams had to decide on which friend's funeral to attend, one murdering the other and many more, reading about an interaction brooks had with rachel while they were smoking wherein they discussed their religious affiliations respectfully, learning about how daniel mauser would attend anti-gun protests, devon sharing how dylan saved one of rachels interpretive dances by fixing the tape, etc make me think of how intertwined littleton is (especially columbine kids) and the domino effect that it's had on the world.

so many shooters have cited e&d as inspirations, people have replicated wrath and natural selection shirts, written fics about them, plays, films, etcetera. there's online communities dedicated to colimbine, sometimes as part of a larger true crime community, where people discuss and learn about it. i myself began research approx. 2 years ago and have since developed a special interest regarding columbine. deaths, other than ones because of copycat shooters/killers such as sol pais are linked to columbine. it's had such an imnense effect on the world that cannot be understated solely because of its magnitude.

columbine was so senseless and i hate that 14 children and a beloved teacher died so that e&d could "even the score." i hope, in their final moments, that eric and dylan felt ashamed and embarrassed of what they did, the world, music, movies, their hobbies and interests they discarded, the people they left behind who've been left to pcik up the pieces of their destruction

#columbine 1999 #tcc #eric harris #dylan klebold #yap session

66 notes · View notes

cgogs · 3 months

Text

Oneshot #1 - Nothing / dsmp pjo au (c!dnf) 2k

this is a little bit of an experiment to see if i like writing this pjo dsmp au, and if people like reading it. its super short, but i wanted to get out a little bit of writing to see if i was into it. if i like it i'll start working on more :] so basically feedback is APPRECIATED

“You’re awake.” “How could you tell?” “I can always tell. Idiot.”

“You’re awake.”

Dream blinks. The bottom of the top bunk comes into focus in all its wooden glory. He’d been staring at a blur for the past half hour, desperately trying to stay awake.

“Dream?”

Okay, that really is George talking, and not some sleep deprived delusion. George’s head peeks over the side of the bunk facing the window, moonlight eclipsed by his hair. He can barely see his features, but he knows exactly the look George is giving him. Something between judgmental and concerned.

“How could you tell?” Dream whispers back.

“I can always tell. Idiot.”

George likes to tease him for sleeping like a corpse, hands laced together over his stomach. Dream moves his hands to his sides before George gets the chance to mention it.

“D’you want me to do the thing?”

“No.” The last time he let George use his sleep magic, he had a nightmare worse than the ones he was running from in the first place.

“I’ve gotten better at it!” George promises, sounding a tad desperate. “Let me try.”

Some of their cabin mates begin to shuffle in their sleep. There’s a quiet, ‘shut up’ thrown their way, sounding a little bit like Tommy. Probably Tommy.

Dream lowers his voice further. “I’m going for a walk.”

There’s a pause. But it doesn’t seem like he hates the idea. “We’ll get in trouble.”

Dream sits up, swiveling his head around the room to see if anyone’s paying attention. From the back, he can see everyone sound asleep in their beds. When George was claimed, the Hermes cabin elected to put George in the very back corner of the room. The general sentiment seemed to be that they were afraid of George emanating some kind of sleep stink or something. George seemed sad being ostracized, which was understandable.

It was easy for Dream to swap with his new bunkmate, which delighted the boy. George had said he was only pulling long faces because he wasn’t able to bunk with his best friend anymore, which. Dream had no particular emotional reaction to. Please trust him on this.

(Later, Hypnos would claim more sons, and the Hermes cabin would get over it, and Dream will just have to seethe in silence.)

With the coast clear, he stands carefully.

“Mr. D is going to turn you into a tree.” George rolls to the other side of the bed to watch, glaring at him through the wood railing.

“Come with me.”

“What? I don’t want to get in trouble. Can’t you just lay back down?”

Dream holds out his hand, reaching up. “Just trust me.”

He’s aware that it isn’t exactly a convincing argument. George tentatively takes his hand, anyway. His hands are soft like they haven’t worked a day in their lives, which might be a little true. But they’re only kids, so time will tell.

George keeps hold of his hand even as he climbs down the ladder. It makes Dream sort of feel like, a knight or something.

“You’re, like, my princess.” Stupid thing to say. Whatever, he already said it, and George is already trying not to laugh so he doesn’t wake everyone up. He holds his breath through a snort, which makes a silly noise, which makes Dream struggle not to laugh as well. Domino effect of stupidity.

Dream tries to communicate with his hands that they could be careful of the creaks in the floor, which he’s previously memorized. George sleepily nods his head like he understands, still smiling dumbly, and immediately steps on one of the loose boards, letting out a very long and tedious creak.

Okay, fine. If any of the kids in the cabin snitch, they’ll know they aren’t truly Hermes’ child, and the unclaimed ones can cross him off their list.

Outside, the air is warm and perfect, like it always is. Or should be, anyway. George’s hand is cold.

“Okay, so, where are we going?”

Dream points up to the roof, and George’s expression sours.

“You didn’t say anything about climbing.”

“Well, I’m not gonna take you to the woods if you can’t be quiet.”

“Is that where you go? Won’t nymphs catch you?”

“We’re the babies, they think we’re cute. They just tell me to go back.”

“We’re twelve, not babies.”

“Yeah? Then get climbing.”

George stomps the ground petulantly, but doesn’t go back inside. Dream has to let go of his hand to show him how to climb up. The breeze sifts through his hair gently, the cool air clings to his skin. He’s made this climb a few times, not that it’s hard. But he can hear his friend groaning with every new foothold he has to take.

It’s a big cabin, it’s got to hold a lot of kids. He pities the kids who have to sleep in the top rungs, they have to climb up and down at least two ladders to get in and out of bed. Maybe the ones on top are, like, the strong half-bloods. Ares and Hephaestus and stuff.

Dream pulls himself up on top of the roof with ease.

“Not so hard.” Dream gloats, smiling at George still struggling on the last edge.

“Help?” George frowns pitifully, voice small and winded. He holds out his hand. “Please?”

Dream takes his hand and pulls him up. “I’ve gotcha.”

He wobbles a bit on his feet, but steadies. George is only in his pajamas, his own sacred artifact. Sometimes he’s seen him walking around camp in his pajama bottoms. There’s only two beads on his necklace, opposed to Dream’s six. He thinks he’ll have to turn his necklace into a bracelet and get a new one pretty soon.

“I’m so tired.” George whispers, rubbing his eyes with force.

“You’re always so tired. Do you mean it this time?”

George moans grumpily. He’s standing like he’s waiting for Dream to tell him what to do. So he does.

Dream takes his hand and guides him to lay down on one of the flat parts of the roof, above a protruding window. The wood is old and creaky, and tomorrow Sapnap (who sleeps at the top of Cabin 11, though Dream thinks it's pretty obvious who his godly parent is) will tell Dream to stop going up there in the middle of the night for what is probably the tenth time.

Together, they look at the night sky. There's few clouds, like always, and somehow all of the world’s constellations are clear. Like New York isn’t right next door.

That one is Andromeda, next to Cassiopeia. He learned that in class the other day. “Class” used loosely– they try hard to have stuff for kids to do around here.

“Is this what you do?”

Dream looks at him. “Hm?”

“Like. When you leave your bunk you just come up here? When you don’t go to the woods.”

“Yeah. I like the silence.”

“Hm.”

There’s a long pause. Then, George asks another question, sounding even more sleepy than before. Something unnatural tugs at Dream’s eyelids when George comes near.

“Did your nightmares come back?” His voice is quiet, so quiet, so not even the sky may hear.

Dream didn’t want to say as much in front of so many people. Even if they were asleep. He nods. “Let me help.” George pokes his shoulder.

“I’m scared!” Dream laughs quietly, “You did a terrible job last time.”

“Okay, whatever, I’ve been practicing.” George says, accent really peeking through. His mother is from Oxford, if he’s remembering correctly. Work visa. Not that Dream really understands what that means. He just understands George sounds very British, and it’s fun.

“Really? And who have you been practicing on.”

“Sam.” George seems rather proud of himself. “Sam, and it was good and I did good. So you should let me help.”

“Oh.” Dream really thought he’d catch him in a lie. “What does Sam even dream about?”

George rubs his eyes, moaning in thought. Which is a strange way to describe it, but that’s what George does. He rolls away, attempting to yawn away from him. He’s been trying not to yawn near people. It’s cute, but doesn’t make much of a difference. Dream yawns, despite his best efforts. George rolls back when he’s through.

“Sheep.” Is all he says. He leans his head on Dream’s shoulder. “Let me help.” “Why are you so adamant?”

“Because it’s, like, the only thing I can even do. Everyone can like, make cool plants or be super smart. I just sleep.” George hesitates, but follows through. “And I like you. You’re my best friend.”

Dream’s heart swells, enough to melt his apprehension. Or, maybe it’s the desperation that comes with sleep deprivation. It occurs to him he never changed out of his jeans.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Do it.”

“You’re scared?” George looks up. His eyes are the kind of blue you see in the scariest parts of the ocean. The color of trenches that touch the center of the Earth. “Don’t be scared. You’ll wake up no matter what.”

“I wasn’t scared of that, but, I guess now I am?” It’s hard to keep eye contact. Something about the sleepy glaze of George’s eyes makes Dream’s soul want to give up. Whatever that means, he’s not sure.

“Sorry. It comforts me to think about.” George holds his arm gently. “You have to look at me. Remember?”

Truthfully, he didn’t. He doesn’t remember anything about how George lulled him to sleep. But he follows his instruction, and soon enough he can feel darkness creeping in all around him. It feels like having the biggest, heaviest quilt gently laid over him. It feels like getting dragged underwater. The sound of the wind in the trees melts into pure silence.

He’s vaguely aware of the sound of a yawn, his or George’s, he’s not sure. And then there was nothing at all.

For the first time in weeks, he doesn’t dream. No nightmares about green fire and the earth swallowing him whole. No death, no inevitable fates and failures he can’t avoid. Just, cold nothing.

He’s woken up by someone poking his cheek. He’s slow on the uptake, which is unlike him, but it’s so early in the morning some of the sleep lingers like a shroud. It’s a nymph. She’s not very happy. You can’t keep doing this.

And when George is asleep, he’s really asleep. And using magic tuckers him out– he’s only just started trying to use it. There’s like, a meter he’ll have to level up. At least that’s what George said.

Bottom line, he’s hard enough to wake up when he hasn’t exhausted himself. Dream is tasked with the impossible job of carrying George back down and into bed.

It’s a good thing he weighs nothing.

#pjo dsmp #c!dnf #my writing

100 notes · View notes

muddyorbsblr · 9 months

Text

you deserve better

See my full list of works here!

Summary: When all the plans you'd made for today go down the drain, the last person you expected shows up at your door to try turning the night around

Pairing: James Conrad x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: angst; language; craptastic friends [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: simp Conrad, that is all 🫠

"Fucking dammit!"

You gripped your phone tightly in your hand, resisting the urge to chuck it into the sea right where the ship's rotor blade was located. Tears burned behind your eyes as every message you'd missed in the last week while you were on this research trip with Monarch trickled in at a steady pace now that you and the rest of the crew had signal again.

Where your fellow scientists were calling up loved ones on FaceTime with bright smiles on their faces and assurances that they were on their way back home, you had an influx of messages from your friends telling you that no, they wouldn't be making your birthday dinner tonight after all.

"Doctor Y/L/N?"

Oh fuck not him, doesn't he have a pool bar to get to so he can snap his fingers and get tonight's lay? you snidely thought to yourself, steeling your stance at the sound of former Captain James Conrad's voice. Taking a deep breath, you turned to face him. "What's up, Conrad? Looking to split an Uber and Brooks doesn't wanna--"

"Are you alright?"

His question felt like a shock to your system, making you blink your eyes repeatedly as if you were trying to get your bearings back. "Of course," you lied through your teeth. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well…" he trailed off, motioning toward your hand. "You're gripping your mobile so hard your knuckles are turning white, for one."

You glanced at your hand, sighing when you saw your skin stretched taut over bone and trying to relax your grip somewhat. "Fine," you gritted out. "If you really wanna know, it's my birthday today. I had plans to spend tonight with my friends once I'd unpacked and washed that goddamned island off of my skin. But some people in that group can't seem to let petty high school shit go, and today when we finally got signal again I got a metric fuckton of messages from one of said friends calling me either a bad friend or a dumbass for extending an invitation to my friends because it's inconvenient for her, which then led to a domino effect of if she's not going then I'm not going and now…" you trailed off, chuckling sardonically to yourself. "Now no one's going."

Something akin to pity crossed the tracker's eyes, making you look away. The last thing you needed right now was the most jaw-droppingly unfairly handsome man on the face of God's green earth to look at you like a sad wet little puppy left out on the side of the road.

"Anyways I'm off," you said a little too chipper it even made you cringe a little inside. "Got a date with a pizza box, fridge full of wine, and my Netflix account. 'Till the next one, Conrad."

Before he could say anything else, you were already walking to your Uber that just pulled up, finally letting yourself let go of all the hot air you were running on and quite aptly feeling deflated. When you were finally far enough from the port that Conrad wasn't even a speck in your line of sight, you felt the tears start to roll down your cheeks.

You felt exponentially worse when you got home, most of the food that you'd placed an order for before you left on the trip to be delivered today already waiting on your porch.

"Fucking dammit," you repeated, albeit this time with a whimper rather than a roar. You propped your door open and started bringing the food in, deciding to set aside a couple of days worth of meals for yourself and then giving the rest to a nearby food bank so that it would at least do some good.

It took a few hours but you were finally perched on your couch, wearing a comfy pajama short set, Kate & Leopold playing on your TV, and tucking straight into a tub of mudslide ice cream just letting the night pass. This definitely wasn't how you pictured spending your 30th birthday, but you strived to remember that there could have been worse ways to spend tonight.

You could've been mediating between spatting friends because they couldn't manage to keep civil for one night, or you could've been on the receiving end of Deena's tirade about "how duplicitous you were to drag her into a gathering with Shana". The island would've been a better alternative than dealing with that all night.

About 30 minutes into the movie you heard a knock on your door, causing you jump in your seat. "I didn't order anything!" you hollered toward your front door, wincing at the pins and needles starting to prickle at your feet and lower legs from the motion.

Whoever was outside knocked again, this time a bit more persistent with the sound booming across the living room. Your visitor, whoever it may be, wasn't here by mistake, and they weren't about to be waved off with a simple 'go away I'm pissy'.

"I told you, buddy, I didn't order any--" Your words stopped short on the tip of your tongue as you saw nothing but broad shoulders clad in a familiar tight and worn blue t-shirt stretched tight over well-defined pectorals, only this time with an off-the-rack casual blazer draped over it. Your eyes slowly traveled upward to meet the oceanic blue eyes that quite frankly you constantly tried and failed not to dream about whenever you drifted off to sleep at night. "Conrad…" you said his name slowly, as if every part of your brain was fighting against accepting the reality that he was here now, looking like the human embodiment of Lust on ridiculously long legs. "What're you doing here?"

There were quite a few thoughts that crossed your mind in the last few hours, scenarios that you'd conjured up on how the rest of the night would go, each of them dwindling in their respective probability as the hours ticked on. Former SAS Tracker James Conrad being at your door, however, was definitively not among those scenarios.

"Erm…I thought I would come over to check on you. You were visibly…understandably…upset when we parted ways at the pier," he answered, shifting his weight to one leg as if trying to make it all sound so casual. He looked over at how you were dressed, from the haphazard ponytail down to the fuzzy monster slippers covering your feet, and resumed his stance that you'd grown accustomed to with the squared shoulders and the ramrod straight back as if he was back on training grounds. "Get dressed, Y/L/N."

You jerked your head backwards, surprise and confusion flooding your system at the soft spoken order. "Why?"

"I'm taking you out for dinner," he stated plainly. "I know you had plans for tonight and they didn't pan out the way you intended. No one should such an important day alone unless they really want to."

"Conrad, please. I'm fine, everything's fine. You don't have to check in on me or take me out to dinner or keep me company out of--I don't even know, pity? You have your own thing and I don't wanna keep you from it or the hordes of women who would probably abandon all common human decency and trample over each other to get that blazer off of you." You finished your little lament with a wave toward the garment, already stepping back like you were about to send him off to better and more interesting company.

When he sensed what you were about to do, he reached out, putting your hand in a delicate hold. "The night has barely begun, and you're in pajamas, eating ice cream, and one of your comfort movies is playing on the screen." He motioned his head towards your TV, where Hugh Jackman and Meg Ryan were currently paused mid-waltz on a New York rooftop. He brought his hand up to cup your face, swiping his thumb over the corner of your mouth before softly saying, "This isn't fine. And I know that I'm not the company you expected or perhaps even prefer. I just--I wanted to come here tonight and just let you know…that I'm here. So…you could join me for dinner or alternatively I could join you here and you can talk my ear off with your movie commentary. The point is that you won't be spending your birthday alone."

His words left you stunned to near silence. "I uhm--I'll go get dressed then." You stepped back from his hold, an irrational part of you already missing his touch, awkwardly waving toward the sitting area. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

Once you'd started to make your way up the stairs, Conrad made his way to the living area of your house, a smile making its way to his face as he looked at the framed pictures you had on your shelves, your dimpled toothy grin on full display. "Oh, Y/N," he breathed your name almost reverently in the silence. "How the hell am I going to move on from you now?"

Earlier today when you'd all disembarked off the ship, he had plans to wash up and head off to a bar to look for someone to keep him company for the night, perhaps until Monday when you were all expected to return to Monarch for briefing on your next mission. All he wanted was to find someone who held even the faintest resemblance to you and lose himself in the chimera that you were the one he was with, that he held you in his arms as he woke up that next morning, and with that indulgence to tide him over for some time, perhaps he could maintain the professional, nearly friendly, relationship that he had with you without running the risk of putting that in jeopardy all because he couldn't keep his affections in check.

Those plans all went down the drain when he saw how you were fighting back tears explaining how your plans for tonight had gone off the rails. When his choices for how to spend the night were spending a few empty hours with someone he would meticulously compare to you or making sure that your birthday wasn't going to be spent alone and licking wounds that should never have been dealt to you in the first place, there was no choice to make.

Tonight's objective was simply to wipe the frown away from your perfectly enchanting face, perhaps even get you to smile. And maybe somewhere along the way finally get you to see him as someone more than just your colleague. Someone that cared. A friend, if he was really going to push it.

And maybe if he was going to entertain the moon shot that played in his most self-indulgent daydreams…a lover.

The sound of you clearing your throat brought him out of his thoughts, the sight of you in your simple pale blue dress with a slight teasing cutout by your waist stealing every bit of his breath away. "Too much?" you asked him, your tone shaky.

"Not at all," he croaked out, clearing his throat before speaking again. "You uhm…you look--You're beautiful." The tiniest smile played at your lips as you motioned for him to follow you to the door. "You always are," he murmured under his breath.

"What was that?" you called out absentmindedly, still steadily making your way to the front door.

"N-Nothing," he stammered. "I was just…admiring your home. It's lovely."

"It's too damn big is what it is," you scoffed as he passed you at the threshold before locking the door. "That's what I get for being perpetually alone, I guess. Just my luck that every guy I ever even tried to date fully expects me to hang up my coat and give up my research so I can play housewife." Your eyes misted over again as the next words came out. "Not a single soul on God's green earth that could deal with that." You turned the key with a little more force than necessary, the lock clicking into place with a resounding knock.

When the two of you made your way to his car, he opened the door for you, your disbelief at the gesture evident in your eyes. And when he was sure that you wouldn't be able to hear him through the car's closed door, he whispered to himself, "I could deal with that. If it meant that you were mine, I could deal with anything."

A/N: Happy happy birthday @liminalpebble!! I hope this puts a smile on your face today and that you have a spectacular year ahead of you, bestie 🥹🥹 Many many hugs from me and Grassy the Mango (even though the bub hasn't arrived yet but it will…today. I think…)

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @gigglingtiggerv2

#james conrad x reader #james conrad x female reader #james conrad fanfic #james conrad fanfiction #muddyorbs writes

243 notes · View notes

helsensm · 17 days

Note

HEHEHE im glad you liked my butterfly effect idea ask regarding kung lao! i love him being the center of attention cuz i think he deserves it, even if it means getting the whole timeline doomed LOL just silly things about wanting to be champion that’s all ^_^

but yes omg i love talking about what ifs, it makes me crazy and rip my hair out (positive af) xD

ohh man i can just imagine the dominos of fate falling over the more things get fucked up… oh man i can’t believe what would lao’s reaction would be if he found out things were crumbling bc of him… one au filled with dread and sadness coming right up!

apparantely I got several asks in one day and tumblr showed me only the last one so I missed yours?? I'm sorry I left you hanging 😫😭

fr, the butterfly effect of this “should-never-be-a-champion” au opens up so many possibilities (literally XD) for angst! Like… I think it would be a devastating discovery for Kung Lao. Not only he was the reason for all the disastrous things that came after his victory, but the realization that apparently even the Universe itself is against his success. Someone would say it’s the perfect scenario for a character to start his villain arc, I’d say it’s time for an existential crisis. “What’s the point then”, emotional exhaustion and thoughts about ending this meaningless life. So someone would have to help him go through this… or it all goes to shit, tons of characters die and the whole timeline literally crumbles THE END 😈

my reaction when you deanoned yourself because it’s always exiting to talk pfp to pfp with someone you mostly saw only in your notifs before

#my asks #kung lao #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #non art post

54 notes · View notes

dulcewrites · 4 months

Text

White Christmas

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x wife!reader (a spy/The Americans au)

Summary: Bob has never been one to reminisce - his job keeps him ever-moving forward. But the holidays calls for reflection. (Wc: 1k +)

Warning: this came out more angsty than I thought :/

A/N: First, just want to say Happy Holidays and or Merry Christmas to those that celebrate. I wanted to get this out a bit earlier but life was life-ing lmao. This is my submission for @lewmagoo’s a lew magoo Christmas. I can’t wait to go back and read/interact everyone’s submissions. This is based off the song by Bing Crosby. This was not the original idea I had; this is much more melancholy but I think it came out well. I could not decide if I wanted to do a fic or moodboard so I kind of put them together. Please like, reblog, and or comment if you read something you enjoy ❤️❄️

Masterlist

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write

May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white

Bob has been able to mark his life through events. Not exactly just with time or his age. Instead through a series of actions and domino effects that have set his life up to where it is now. He does not remember being 10, he just remembers the little house he was taken from. He doesn’t remember being 16, just the cold, smooth metal of his first revolver. His 26th birthday, with the real day he was born, was uneventful and terribly dull.

… that was until he got the envelope.

A face. A name. A never-ending mission. A wife to be.

27 was marked by a quick wedding. 28 was cemented by a crying baby girl and the sickly-sweet smell of baby wipes he grew to love. By 30, he saw his first gray hair and one little girl turned into two. Now he wonders what he can hang 37 on. He doesn't want it to be the bodies that have been left behind or 'daddy's business trips' as Georgia says.

Bob wants more. For once he wants something different. Something softer.

An idealist with the bloody ledger of a cynic, you call him. It is always with a smile but the biting edge that your voice can have never fully leaves. Bob thinks you resent that about him while likes to believe that it is a good thing - the little tug in the bottom of his stomach that he gets. Bob does his job, and he has done it valiantly for. Some days he may say he even loves what he does. But with his love comes a soft layer of sadness. It comes with wondering if there could be more outside of kills and mission and the bullshit, he would not have chosen for himself as a child. When things were syrupy in the way everything is when you're a kid.

The wistfulness grows stronger as the weather changes, and a dusty of white magic settles over the ground. The first winter snow he can remember in a long time.

The cabin idea comes with apprehension from you. Christmas was a holiday the two of you grinned and bared for the sake of the girls, but Bob found the words slipping out of his mouth. His fingers already inched looking into places - a little blue house in the snow. He knows that face well. Brows drawn tight and mouth pursed in thought.

“Emmie mentioned wanting to go camping.”

It was a bit unfair to mention your youngest daughter, Emerson. The frown lines on your face softened a bit, followed by a resigned sigh. There was little that made you like that - malleable. He knows you would never say it out loud but only the girls could do that.

I’ll have to talk with Maverick about it. He may need us.

Then it was his turn to frown. The growing dissolution bubbled under, and it all started with Pete Mitchell. But how does one turn his back on the only real family he has known. Bob cannot say he knows Regina and Don, - the people he should think to be parents; instead, thinks he was made in Mav’s image. Just like every other agent that has come through Top Gun. Your loyalty to Mav in admirable as it is a thorn in Bob’s side.

He likes to say there is three in your relationship if he could even call it that.

But he takes what he can get from you. A knowing smile when Aria says something completely out of left field. A kiss where you don’t flinch away or tense up.

It all works together in the oxymoron that is his marriage with you. Husband and wife. Partners in crime. He loathes you as much as he couldn’t imagine doing this without you. He endlessly pines for a woman he has two children with.

Nothing has ever been easy for the two of you, and he supposes he would not have it any other way.

———

“I don’t know your real name.”

The general statement made you pause as your looked away from the fireplace in front of you. Bob was sitting on the bed, the green reindeer slippers the girls gave him matched his pullover. While him and girls seem to thrive in the cold, you hated it. You liked the uncomfortableness that came with humidity and heat. You were used to beads of sweat above the brow and clothes sticking to you back. Uneasiness was your default setting.

A snow-covered cabin is beautiful in theory, tortuous in practice.

“What,” you muttered, gaze going back to the fire. The flames danced against the brick surrounding it. The name thing was an issue he pressed. For reasons you still don’t get.

“I don’t know your real name,” he repeats. “And you don’t know mine. You don’t know anything about me before we…”

He trails off contemplatively. You shrug softly. “I think Robert suits you fine. Perfectly, even.”

There was a beat of silence. You wanted to tell him it was better this way. Life has been separated into two different parts: BB and AB. Before Bob and After Bob. It was no use focusing on what happened before then. You hope he drops the conversation, but Bob has never been one to let things go. A dog with a bone.

“Do you know why I suggested coming here?”

“You enjoy watching me freeze,” it was a joke but there is little mirth in the room.

“I grew up in a little blue cabin, sort of like this one -,”

“Bob”

“In a small town in Illinois.”

“Bob,” you hate him for this… or at least you want to hate him for this. Hate him for trying so damn hard.

“Every winter, I remember sheets of snow on ground and - and my ma-,”

“Robert,” your voice echoes a bit off the room. You fully turn to him, wishing to have bit of venom in your voice but it comes out broken. “What do you want from this? From me?”

“Why does it have to be something? Why can’t I just want you, all of you?”

Penny warned you about this. She’s taught you everything you know. And for better or worse, it has led you done a straight and narrow path.

Even in our business, people grow… attached. It will be up to you to either let them in or close it before it gets to be too much.

You wouldn’t call yourself frigid, but you are sure others would. It never bothered you really. Not as you grew older. There was a weakness in others that you simply did not have. The coldness was an easy barrier that deterred most, if not everyone you came across.

“You have me,” your fingernail scrapes across the wool blanket wrapped around you. “I am right here, aren’t I?”

Cobalt eyes mute with sadness.

“That isn’t what I meant.”

You grow more exasperated. “And you think me telling you about my past life will do that?”

“No, but I think you being honest would. Honest about how you feel about me, about the girls, would.”

Does he want you to write on a piece of paper if he loves you and make him check yes or no like you’re in the fifth grade. There was something so innocent about the look he gave you. The stunted nature of how the two of you work around each other may be less of your faults and more of the world that failed the both of you. You look at Bob now and he doesn’t seem like the man you have seen dodging bullets or choking out men twice his size. He seems so utterly human. And despite yourself, all you can think about is how much Maverick would hate it. The spurred want others to think the same.

You do love the girls, frankly more that you would like to admit. Two little knives to which people can twist. And Robert…

People get hurt, killed, when feelings are involved.

let them in or close it.

“I am tired,” you mutter. “I really don’t feel like rehashing the past. Certainly not with you.”

It is the end of the discussion, and you try not to flinch when the door closes behind him. The silence had become a gentle friend of yours. A safe companion to embrace. You wait for him to come back, thinking he must be letting off some steam outside in the cold. But 30 minutes turns into an hour and you start to think he may have crashed in one of the other rooms in the cabin.

After numbingly sitting at the fireplace, the only thing you can think to do is get ready for bed. You crave a bottle of wine but agreed to a painfully dry Christmas.

Your fingers don’t go towards the drawers where you unpacked the plethora of long Johns and sweaters you brought; they go to Bob’s instead. You know he’d probably laugh at you if he could see it, and you’d deserve it. Can’t even admit your feelings but want to sleep in one his shirts. While digging for an old Led Zeppelin shirt. Your digging is thwarted when your hand grazes across a chest inside the drawer. Biting your lip, you look towards the door. Bad things come in threes. He’s already upset you; you’re digging in his stuff… might at well get your third strike.

A familiar sinking feeling muddled in your stomach as you lift the chest to see tinier ring box in it, along with a mini snow globe. You both promised no presents this year for Christmas, but of course he wouldn’t stick to that. Your gaze goes to the simple ring on your left hand. It wasn’t something either of you picked out. It was left in the envelope you received.

“You should be happy you even get one off the bat,” Natasha sighed. “Jake gave me a ring pop as joke before Mav stepped in.”

You don’t have it in you to open the ring box, a bile stuck in your throat. But you do pick up the mini snow globe. It is like nothing you have seen before; it looks homemade. Inside a little blue cabin with sparkles dusted around it. On the bottom, tiny writing painted on. Chicken scratch that could only come from kids.

To the best wife and mommy in the world. May all your Christmases be merry and bright.

You set the snow globe back in the chest hastily, as if you have been burned.

God you’re fucked.

#robert floyd x reader #robert floyd imagine #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #Robert Floyd #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #a lew magoo christmas

83 notes · View notes

our-happygirl500-fan · 9 months

Text

Something that is kind of sad is that Leo could possibly blame himself for a lot of things that were mostly out of his control.

Leo: Gram Gram, we gotta get you out of here

Something that I’ve seen a few people talk about is the possibility of Leo feeling guilty over the loss of Karai after he had tried to get her to safety.

Leo: Shelldon! I need you to protect Gram Gram

I’ve also seen a few people wonder if Leo also possibly blames himself for the Shredder destroying Shelldon as well due to Leo asking him to protect Karai causing Leo to blame himself for not just the loss of one family member but two.

Raph: I got it!

Leo: With those clumsy hands? No, I got thus one

I have also seen a lot of people talk about the possibility of Leo feeling guilty over accidentally loosing the key which led to a domino effect that led to the apocalypse.

Leo: Ready for your disposal

Something else that I wonder if Leo could possibly feel guilty over is Big Mama getting her hands on the Shredder in the first place due to him going to her for help with dealing with the Shredder.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #leonardo hamato #rottmnt #tmnt

225 notes · View notes

blues824 · 1 year

Note

Can I please request the heartslabyul guy wit a madam red platonic reader.

❤️Imagen her coming to twisted wonderland after her death and riddle seeing her and thinking she should be like his mother. and in the beginning wanting distance from her but seeing her hepling the other heartslabyul members (like a mother should) him beginning to like her and relizeing that she isn't like his mother and starts to see her as a mother/aunt figure.

🌹Imagen after that that she gets invited to a unbirtday party and her showing up in a red(Victorian style dress ) that whoud make the queen of hearts proud.

❤️(I remember that episode of black butler in wonderland and her being the queen of hearts )

🌹Imagen them learning about her being a doctor that during a carage accident that she lost her husband and her child and abilitie to have a child of her own. and hearing that she one day snapt and started to kill sex workers because they didn't care about their babies and became Jack the ripper and died protecting her nephew.

This is the dress that I meant that she wears in the unbirtday pary 👇

As per the request, this is platonic. Take a shot or eat a bite for every time I say ‘mom’ or ‘mother’

Riddle Rosehearts

Would most likely distance himself because you look almost like a younger version of his own mother. He would treat you as politely as he could while also making it obvious that he isn’t interested in talking to you more than necessary.

However, he sees you acting so motherly towards the other members of his beloved dorm and he can’t help but have his point of view changed. Seeing you help Ace and Deuce study while also holding great conversations with both Trey and Cater made him see that you weren’t an enemy.

After a while, he holds a celebration disguised as an unbirthday party in your honor because he was going to give you the official title of Dorm Mom. During the party, you posed for Cater’s Magicam and you made an effort to include everyone in the celebration. The dress you selected was very on-theme, and he complimented you on it.

A few days later, he heard sniffling from the labyrinth. He went to investigate and saw you shaking a bit while tears were streaming down your face. He quickly asked what was wrong and you told him about how you didn’t deserve such wonderful ‘children’.

You told him about your very dark past, about the carriage ride and how it caused a domino effect in your life. How you partnered with a demon and became the infamous Jack the Ripper. How that led to your death. Riddle didn’t know what to do, but he pulled you into a hug. He lets you cry, and he hopes that you know you may go to him if you ever feel like this again.

Trey Clover

Would be the one to greet you and show you around. Mans is so hospitable because he was taught to be that way from his family. He introduces everyone to you and makes sure that they remain respectful.

The two of you can often be seen conversing with one another over some tarts and tea. You often ask him about stories from his upbringing. You tell him stories about your family as well, but he can’t help but notice the twinge of sadness in your eyes.

When Riddle hosts the ‘accolade’, Trey is the one assigned to bake the treats. You offer to help as best you could, but he declined your offer because the celebration was for you and it isn’t proper for the Guest of Honor to help set it up. Plus, Riddle would have his head if he found out.

A little while later, when the celebration is over, he sees you take your leave quietly. He can’t help but notice you seemed a bit overwhelmed. He followed you and saw that you ducked out of the way and sat against a wall. You brought your knees to your chest and began to cry.

Trey sat next to you and asked you what was wrong. You let everything go. You filled in the holes that your stories always had. You told him about how you saw the Heartslabyul members as the children you could never biologically have. He has a lot of experience with comforting people who have PTSD, so he allows you to lean on him. He’s upset that the person he sees as his ‘aunt’ figure has gone through so much pain.

Cater Diamond

As Trey introduces you to everyone, he can’t help but notice your sense of fashion. Very Victorian Vintage is most definitely the hashtag or caption he uses whenever he posts a picture about you. Funny thing is that those posts go viral almost immediately.

The two of you often have a very hard time talking with each other since Cater uses a more modern slangish tone while you speak in a much more proper tone. He even once joked about bringing in a translator so the two of you would understand each other better.

When the Heartslabyul members host the ‘accolade’, he is busy taking pictures of you. He has set up a chair in front of the big heart in their front lawn for optimal photos. He has you pose in both professional and sassy poses.

After the celebration is done, you excuse yourself to go to your room. He didn’t think anything of it until he saw how you looked so sad. He knows that look very well because there were many times he has stayed up late to cry.

He goes to check on you and he hears the waterworks working the water. He knocks on the door and asks to be let in. You accept and he sees you try to scramble to gather your bearings, but the look on his face tells you that he knows. You let it all out, every single harsh detail about your past and how you felt like you didn’t deserve this new family because of it. He reminds you that your past is your past but you determine your own future.

Ace Trappola

Most definitely has been talking smack about you when you appear behind him at the perfect time. He has been beheaded multiple times because of it, and Deuce even threw hands with him because he’s just a jerk.

You often help Ace with his studies so he doesn’t have to rely on Azul’s treacherous and deceptive ways. In fact, he has been getting better scores than if he had gotten that cecaelia’s help. Riddle most definitely noticed.

When they host the accolade, he is the one to fix your plate and pour your tea for you. By this point, he was thoroughly educated by his Housewarden about how to treat a lady… or a Baroness in this situation.

Once the celebration is over with, you let it slip to him that it’s been a very long time since you had ever been able to celebrate being a ‘mom’. When he asks you to elaborate, you tell him about your misfortune in the past.

You tell him about your younger sister and how you used to be in love with her husband before you married someone else. You told him about the carriage accident and he feels like an absolute piece of shit for treating you the way he has. Please accept his apologies.

Deuce Spade

Would cling to you like you were his actual mother. He misses his own mom dearly, so it’s nice to have such a motherly presence at NRC. Like I said, he threw hands with Ace because how dare you talk to Mama Y/N like that??

You help Deuce 1) in his studies and 2) try to reel in his anger. You yourself are an angry person, but that has changed after your passing. This was a new world, so this would be a new you. The others have noticed that the first-year is doing a lot better in his classes.

When the grand accolade happens, he would be the one to stare at Ace in pure jealousy as he fixes your plate and pours your tea. You whisper to him and promise that he would be able to do it if you needed a refill on anything.

After the festivities, you quietly slip away. He most definitely noticed because he was appointed to help you back to your room. He saw the train of your gown had disappeared around the corner and he followed you.

Once he found you, you were pacing back and forth. He asked what was wrong and you let it all out. You told him everything. Deuce is a former delinquent, but he’s never heard anything so gruesome. He still loves you like a son loves his mother, but he won’t be able to look at you in the same way.

604 notes · View notes