#I got the name swapped with the hospital I was born in which is in the same city which is why it sounded familiar | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thehusbandoden · 8 months

Note

I love imagining that Kirishima would be even more excited to be a dad than to be a Pro Hero. But I also think he'd try to keep those parts of his life separated, to keep his kid(s) safe. You just KNOW the first time his child(ren) get caught up in some danger he'd go feral on some Villains.

A/n: I loved this idea and went a little overboard lol. I kinda want to write a drabble but I'm not too sure, but for now here are some headcannons!

Kirishima as a Dad Headcannons

General info:

Genre: slice of life (?) \\ wc: 1,625 \\ female reader

Warnings!: kidnapping, violence, Kiri losing it, kids being taken away/kidnapped, ummmm pls let me know if I miss any! <33 Anon, if any of these are triggering for you please reach out to me and I'll fix it!

Oh my goodness yes.

When you told him that you were pregnant he cried- happy tears of course. Manly happy tears.

He was so excited, and was instantly asking for paternal leave

Which was denied- but anyway

He loves to take care of you.

Foot massages, belly rubs, kisses wherever whenever, cuddles, weird cravings, manual labor, anything, you name it and it's yours.

Honestly you got a little spoiled lol

Though he's so excited for his gorgeous baby that will have the perfect mix of genes, he tires to drown out his thoughts of you and the angel you're growing in your womb.

He has work to do, and if he doesn't do his work you and baby will have a higher risk of harm befalling you.

He slowly masters the art of not thinking about his reason for existence, and solely focusing on work.

He already hides you pretty well from his fans, simply telling them that he was in a very happy, and very serious long term relationship.

The majority of his fans were super understanding about it all and were just glad he was happy, but the fake ones would still hit on him, try and guilt him into sharing more details, or even try stalking him to get a glimpse of Mrs. Perfect.

He didn't tell the public that you were expecting until he left on Paternity leave, and he didn't share anymore details outside of that.

The real and fake fans were clear to see by their reactions.

Once baby is born he's literally already so in love.

If you had a problematic delivery he'd be more worried about you, of course; but as soon as he knows you're okay he is immediately putting eighty percent of his attention on baby boy, and keeping the other twenty on you.

Crying manly tears as he watches you hold him, standing next to you as you feed him for the first time.

Once you two have had enough skin to skin time and you decide to rest, he takes your beautiful baby boy in awe before kissing your forehead lovingly.

"Thank you so much Pebble. He is just as perfect as you."

After making sure you're situated he sits on the chair closest to your bed, and simply watches sweet baby boy.

When he falls asleep he holds him to his bare chest, talking to him softly.

He doesn't dare rest until you're awake. He's read too many horror stories of the horrors of villains harming a pro hero's baby, or even having the baby purposely or accidentally swapped with another.

Once you do wake up, he's quick to reward you with a sweet kiss and your baby boy in your arms.

For the next while in the hospital you two take turns with baby boy, you mostly holding him while you're awake, and Kiri holding him while you rest.

Even though you tried to convince him to get some sleep, he wouldn't listen. He literally could not rest until the two of you were safely tucked into your home. There were too many dangers for you and baby, and he refused to make you wait on him.

Once he gets back to going to work he is absolutely miserable. He hates being away from his babies, and the worry kills him every time.

Luckily, nothing happened to you or baby, well at least for a few years.

Baby boy was seven, and you both had a daughter who just turned four.

Kiri was at work, and you were making dinner.

Your son had asked you if he could take his sister outside to play in the backyard; not seeing anything wrong with it, you agreed.

You even had a window above the sink looking over where they were playing, it was supposed to be safe.

A new organization of villains targeted your family due to Kiri stopping a robbery that would help them immensely.

Using their leader's quirk, they were able to find out a bunch of information about you and your precious babies.

All he needed was two men.

One to take you, and one to grab your kids.

Though you put up quite the fight, you stopped as they started to target your stomach.

There was something they didn't know; that you would make sure to keep hidden.

They ended up with you and your kids handcuffed in a dark room.

You were absolutely terrified of what was going to happen to your babies, but you put on a brave face, comforting your children with a smile.

They would cry and shuffle as close to you as possible, asking you where daddy was and asking if he wasn't coming for them.

"No no, darling. Your daddy is coming, he'll save us very soon!"

And that he did.

Like always, he came home to eat dinner with his gorgeous family.

Walking in, he let out a loud:

"Daddy's home! Kisses and hugs are in order~!"

He expected to hear giggles and the pattering of small footsteps sprinting towards him, a far more familiar set following close behind.

But, to his disappointment; the house was silent.

Walking toward he kitchen, he frowns at the mess by the island. Spilled food and cooking utensils scattered the floor.

"Y/n baby? What happened in the kitchen?!"

Walking outside, he panicked at the sight of a fallen off shoe and jacket.

Those were both signs of struggling..

Sprinting inside, Kiri yelled for you to come out as he scoured the mansion for another sight of his gorgeous family.

The lights were on- if you left you would have turn them off.

Calling your phone, his heart dropped at the sight of it's cracked screen lying on the floor of the kitchen, his contact name "Hubby 🥰😏" lighting up the screen.

Taking a second to collect his thoughts, rage filled his being as he studied the picture of him being hugged and kissed by his babies, huge smiles planted on their faces.

Hanging up the call, he quickly went to Bakugo's contact, calling the tsundere uncle.

"Ha? What do you need n-"

"They're gone."

"What?"

"Somebody decided to try and take my world from me. They're gone- and we need to find them."

The seriousness in Kiri's tone made the man shiver. Somebody was dead- so dead.

"I'll call the idiots. You get Rikona on the line."

Rikona was a fellow hero in the Bakusquad agency. Her quirk was related to her immense intelligence, and she was the one to call if you needed to get any kind of information quickly. She could easily find Kiri's family in mere minutes.

After calling her, Kiri followed her instructions, which eventually got him to a run down ware house.

After thanking the hero and sending his location in the Bakusquad groupchat, Kiri put his phone on silent and made his way inside.

He silently took down every villain he came across.

After a short while he found his way to a large room, where several men were.

Studying the scene closely, Kiri could only see red as he spotted you tied to a chair, cheek visibly reddened.

Your kids were on chairs near you, tears streaming down their cheeks as they watched the men hovering around them.

Moving to contact the Bakusquad, Kiri snapped at the sound of a slap.

Jerking his head towards the sound, uncontrollable anger pulsed through Eijiro as he lunged towards the villains, knocking down every single one that dared try and stop him.

Getting to the scum that dared touch you, Kiri hardened his arm before elbowing the villain in the face.

Hard.

Now that the path was cleared, Kiri wasted no time untying you and your angels, hugging the three of you comfortingly.

"Shhh it's okay. I've got you now, I've got you."

He stayed right next to you, glaring at any villain who dared take a step closer.

He was cornered. And there was no way he was going to leave your side- it would be too easy for someone to take you away again.

As a villain approached, Kiri hardened his arm a little more, sending out a warning.

Anyone stupid enough to get close enough to reach any of you received a harder-than-rock elbow to the face.

Just as five villains approached, Bakugo and the Bakusquad burst in, immediately setting to work to help.

Bakugo and Mina immediately started attacking the villains, while Denki and Jiro started tying up the knocked down villains.

Using his tape, Sero brought you and your kids to him and out of harm's way, much to Kiri's relief.

Now free to go all out, Kiri absolutely annihilated any for he could reach, not holding anything back, he pounded the villains into the ground, only stopping to attack the next one.

After all of the villains were defeated Kiri moved to the leader- the one that hurt his Pebble.

Bashing his elbow into the dude's face, Bakugo literally had to pry him off of the passed out villain to stop him from beating him to death.

After snapping out of it Kiri instantly hurried to the separate room Sero took you and his angels to.

Throwing open the door, he hugged the living daylight out of all three of you, apologizing and cooing words of comfort and reassurance.

After taking you three home Kiri spoiled the kids, playing any game they wanted.

And after reading them to sleep, he turned to you. Engulfing you in an embrace as you finally let yourself cry.

Kiri took the next three weeks off, finding ways to keep you all safer.

The first thing, would have to be a guard dog. A giant, beautiful German Shepherd.. yeah that sounded nice.

~~~~

A/n 2: I hope this was okay! If not feel free to reach out to me! <3

Kiri's masterlist | Navigation

You can tip me here <3

Reblogs and feedback are immensely appreciated! <33

9/26/2023

~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way -minus reblogging.

193 notes · View notes

memories-beneath-the-skin · 1 month

Text

The ugly, dirty green table. I remember it was white, then blue, gray, blue, then a mix of paints together that I took from my dad's shed and mixed together to make enough, which is it's final resting petina. I remember the table since I was single digits, and it is much older than that, as I think my dad got it at a garage sale well before I was born.

I would be given an old paint brush and left over paint to practice painting, every time I wanted. I swear the thing is held together from latex paint. It's dirty, abused, been in my garage a long while and needs cleaning.

My dad would always tell me it's his green stand, I was always... Whatever it was in my room all my life, so I took it when I moved out.

I have always wanted to strip it, refinish it, but haven't it has a lot of memory for me.

This afternoon blowing up my garage and organizing, just myself, my shadow and music, I got to the desk and froze.

I don't remember placing the sticker on it.

Yet it breathes and lives, forever stuck to the surface, not just stuck.. Worn into it like oils of the skin on a well used book, a path tread daily... Yet... How?

That sticker... I remember the moment I touched it the first time, only rememberable to me, the older woman that laid the marker on it and presented it to me never thought twice. I had to present my driver's license to her to qualify for entry and she was confused because I had the same name as the patient.

My father was "the sickest patient" in the largest, top state heart specialist hospital, and that was sicker than a man in critical condition in a coma.

I remember wearing that sticker on my chest and laying on my back, in a minivan, staring at the roof, the street lights of the parking lot beaming an orange glow onto my form. I was thinking... My fingerprints and hers are forever embedded in the glue film that is adhering it to my sweat soaked black tshirt.

Too lost in my mind to sleep, too unimportant to be allowed where I wanted to be. I laid with the plastic ridge of the hidden seats embedding into my back, the scent of my hoodie that I found jammed in a corner from last winter, as it was a makeshift pillow.

Laying there knowing he was there to die. They know I'm there because he was there to die. Odd how death is planned and forecasted like weather.

Pushing my anger and betrayal with the head nurse as hard as I could until they suggested security could help me to my car.

3 of us there... Only one after 10pm to be allowed to stay overnight in room, hospital rules, I fought to get two to stay, and I was the strong one willing to sacrafice to go. There was plenty of room in there, wasn't like we were in the way. He was not getting meals or water, no meds, they would occasionally come in to shift him (can expedite death) and check to see if he had passed.

93 humid degrees in that van, staring at the marks on the ceiling from cargo that has rubbed, looking out the rain spotted window, the moon looking so cold, windows cracked, could barely breathe comfortably, when the air I inhale felt just as warm as the air I exhale. My three bottles of water mostly gone, tasted like they have been warmed in a pan like milk for hot chocolate, my stomach growling but no urge to eat.

The hypocrisy in my thoughts... Praying he would die, hoping though I was at his side.

I did not sleep, I lost consciousness for 45 minutes, then the sun peaked over the building and into my eyes, awakening to what should have been an arresting sight, beautiful golden hues, I was prepared to give it the middle finger and scream at the heavens but I didn't need to look like a looney tune to security.

First person in line for visitation, new sticker made, got to room peeled off my smelly, sweat stained shirt, and swapped for a clean one after I freshened up in the bathroom he would never use.

Even now... I can't remember how that sticker, made it from my discarded, sweaty shirt, jammed into my duffel bag, next to my books, clean shirts and dry shampoo to live next it's life that heavily painted, old table.

This little unimportant story stops here, as my focus was not the events that continued, though a better story to read, only its my mind memory of this sticker.

To loop back to a previous post, as those that listened hopefully unfollowed, the others that clamor for the artistic nature/religious /love poetry that gets all the praise and hearts, was born from the need to write this..... The need to lay out my mind. To truly bleed out a thought, even if it's a fucking sticker on trash furniture. Too many only write to make convoluted art, speaking in writes that normal people simply don't speak like every day, where you got to read line 5 times to get the artistic angle they desire to use to try to make themselves stand out from everyone else, only to craft something that no one will truly remember as it's just safe emotions presented pretty. I understand that's their art and their groupies find value. Seldom do i feel like I've written, unless I bleed, truly fucking bleed and lay out the most truest, visceral thoughts I have on my mind.

To each their own. The world needs the safe, pretty writes to function, people are more apt to heart and publicly praise the safe writes... We as humans seldom do for what makes us fit in.

I'm just laying this out here for the 3 people that somehow made it this far to the post.

7/21, room 345.

I have no memory of that sticker, leaving my shirt to be transferred to that table in garage.

Though my memories were fucked after not sleeping for 3 days, and in the middle of the night driving home under the guidance of 3 redbulls, as the two others collapsed in my car from fatigue.

I have opened up an official inquiry in my mind to request access to my memories that are apparently stored in a vault, it's a dangerous act I do often. I just need one moment to remember the happenings of that sticker after it served its purpose.

It puts a hamper on my aspirations to strip /fix and refinish that table, the table had sentimental value, the memory of mixing my dad's paints while he was at work to create that odd green color has even more value in me and that sticker I thought about that night, that hit me like an unexpected attack from a sledge hammer as I saw it in the garage yesterday, carries so many painful yet needed memories that I will never be able to disturb it's place.

Odd how life pivots in fractions of a second, yet seems to drag for eternity at times too.

#my picture #writers on tumblr #original writing #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #writerscommunity #spilled writing #spilled truth #spilled pain #personal #not poetry

22 notes · View notes

damelucyjo · 11 months

Text

15 questions and 15 mutuals

Thank you for tagging me @modern-day-classic 😘

were you named after anyone?

Lucy is my maternal great-grandmother's middle name. It was initially my middle name too, but once I was born they swapped my names around.

when was the last time you cried?

Yesterday? I cry all the time 😂

do you have kids?

No, but I have 3 nephews who all feel like my kids. I've always known I want kids, but any time I spend with them lets me know now is not the time! 😂 But all 3 are autistic, so they can be a lot to deal with sometimes, especially all together.

do you use sarcasm a lot?

Sarcasm? Me? Never.

what's the first thing you notice about people?

To physically look at, I'd say their eyes. But I always pay attention to how people are with others.

what's your eye color?

Blue.

scary movies or happy endings?

Both? I love scary movies (I'm one of the weird ones, apparently) But who doesn't love a happy ending!

any special talents?

I'm fairly decent at art? Which is considered a talent I guess. I'm drawing all the time. & I'm hypermobile, which is just how my body was made, but being able to do flexible things can also be considered a talent too?

where were you born?

St Albans as the town I live in doesn't have a hospital for people to give birth in. But I've lived my whole life in this place, which is just outside of London.

what are your hobbies?

The before mentioned art. Also reading and watching TV 😂

have any pets?

My little old man Dexter, a Jack Russel.

what sports do you play/have you played?

I don't do anything any more because I'm old and broken, but I did Irish dancing for about 18 years before I had to stop. Throughout school, I did netball, basketball, rounders, football, lacrosse, dance, badminton, and cross-country.

how tall are you?

5'4.5" (and the half is important! 😂) or around 164 cm.

favorite subject in school?

Art, drama/theatre & history. The 3 subjects I chose for my GCSEs, and I couldn't choose between them.

dream job?

Is it a cop out to say something I love? I'd give absolutely anything to go back to my old job of working in a playground with kids. No two days were the same, I got to do art all the time, and I got paid to play! The dream, honestly!!

tagging: *goes into the following section to find people because I barely interact with anyone on here and am terrible with usernames 🫣)

@wadderz @fangirl-corey @wiigy @waddingham @sunflowerromcom @writtenndust @theultimateclare @queerhydrangea @queerofdenial @biscuitboxpink @mytwodaves @broadwayfreak5357 @sarahtarth @atearsarahjane @rahleeyah

#about me #well that was a fun way to waste time

7 notes · View notes

avid-avian-lives · 7 months

Text

2008

(this is the baby swap scene of my rancher omens au - it's pretty long so have a preview and a cut :> dont wanna fill up yalls dashes)

The small English town of Tadfield held an air base in which the American ambassador Thaddeus Dowling’s wife Harriet had just landed and where their hospital had just been closed. It was also the home of a nunnery, in which the Saint Beryl’s Order of Chattering Nuns had agreed to deliver Harriet Dowling’s blond, male baby.

It is worth noting that Saint Beryl was a nun born in 649 who had been betrothed to a priest who she didn’t like, and that she escaped the aforementioned marriage by chattering endlessly for three weeks until he strangled her. It is also worth noting that she received this ability not by praying to God, but to Satan, and that the Saint Beryl’s Order of Chattering Nuns were Satanists who talked endlessly except on Thursday afternoons, when they were permitted to shut up.

However, Harriet Dowling wasn’t the only mother-to-be at the Tadfield nunnery on that night; in fact, a local woman named Deirdre was also having a blond, male baby while her husband waited outside smoking a tobacco pipe and worrying endlessly. It was this man, Henry, who was the first to see and speak to the demon Tango as he left his car. Not that he knew or understood any of this. He only saw a tall and extraordinarily thin man saunter out of his car holding a large wicker basket.

“You left your lights on,” he said. The man sighed dismissively and waved his hand a bit, and the car’s headlights turned off. The exhausted and confused Henry replied, “Fancy, that. Infrared?”

The mysterious man with the basket, who Henry now noticed had bright blond, almost yellow hair and a pair of dark sunglasses—impractical, he thought, it’s night, and I can’t imagine he sees very well—only asked, “How long have we got?”

“Well, I’ve been left out of the whole business. But I imagine she’s coming right along.” This may have been a helpful reply if not for the fact that he most certainly did not know any such thing and was merely pretending.

“What room?”

“We’re in Room Three,” he said, this time with much more certainty. He did, in fact, know the room number in which his wife was giving birth. However, this became the first of a truly astonishing number of miscommunications that allowed the events of this night to play out as they did. Quite like a card trick involving a tricksy magician, they were quite hard to follow, and no one involved knew quite what had happened. Therefore, it will be broken down and relayed quite slowly here.

Tango brought his basket into the nunnery and handed it to the first nun he saw. He intended to get his part of the job finished as quickly as possible. “Bring this into room three,” he said.

Harriet Dowling and Deirdre were each in the process of giving birth to one of two babies involved in the whole affair; the third was in the basket that Tango carried. For ease of understanding, we shall call this basket baby “Death, Destroyer of Worlds.”

The nun, who hadn’t been involved in the plan initially because of perceived incompetence, enthusiastically took Death, Destroyer of Worlds to room three. There, while Deirdre slept, she put him in the place of the second baby, which we shall call “Deirdre’s baby.”

However, before she was able to leave, Henry entered and saw the two babies. “Twins?!” he said. “I didn’t hear anything about twins!”

“Just as well!” the nun said hurriedly. “This one…” She indicated to Deirdre’s baby. “isn’t yours. I’m merely keeping an eye on him while the others take care of his mother. You get this one!” she said, indicating Death, Destroyer of Worlds.

“Oh,” said Henry. “That’s alright, then.”

A second nun entered the room and gave the first a wink. The first winked back and indicated to Deirdre’s baby, and the second cheerfully called out “Extra baby removal!” as she took Deirdre’s baby from the room.

It is worth the time necessary to deconstruct this interaction.

As far as communication goes, nonverbal strategies are often not the best course of action, as they can be very versatile based on the context, which can be different between people. As far as nonverbal communication goes, the wink may be the most versatile of them all.

In the second nun’s head, the interaction went like this:

She entered the room and gave a wink to the first nun, meaning What the hell are you doing, for Satan’s sake? We’ve got a job to do, and here you are, hanging around some outsider with Death, Destroyer of Worlds! Indicate him to me and I will bring him to his new parents for the swap. Then, when the first nun indicated to one of the babies, her wink meant I can’t talk now, there’s an outsider here. Take this baby to the American ambassador and make the switch, for he is Death, Destroyer of Worlds. And the second nun therefore took the indicated baby from the room.

In the first nun’s head, the interaction went like this:

Another nun entered the room and winked at her, nonverbally saying What a good job you’ve done! Switching the babies all by yourself! Master Tango and Our Supreme Lord Satan will be very pleased. Indicate to me which baby is the excess, and I will leave you with Death, Destroyer of Worlds and his new parents. As instructed, she indicated to Deirdre’s baby, and winked back, saying Thank you. Take this baby away. I shall remain here and help the American ambassador bestow a worthy name unto Death, Destroyer of Worlds. And the other nun took away Deirdre’s baby.

Following this, the first nun and Henry had a remarkable conversation involving a lot of You may have some tea if you wish, but we also have coffee if you’d prefer! and We call these “biscuits,” but you likely know them as “cookies.” It is important to remember that Henry was both very baffled and very tired. It was in his nature to latch onto things he understood and dismiss that which confused him, especially when he was very tired. As a nun from the Order of Saint Beryl, she had been talking nonstop; he could be forgiven for missing some of the strange details.

It is also important to remember that the nun was not very good with geography, and as such, Henry’s response of “a small town called Rye” when she asked where he was from was perfectly reasonable.

It is fascinating how different two conversations can be when they are, in fact, the exact same conversation.

Regardless, it is likely that by this point you understand what is going to happen here. The second nun snuck Deirdre’s baby into Harriet Dowling’s room under the pretense of taking her baby away for a legally required weighing. Overall, it was a much simpler affair, as Mr. Thaddeus Dowling was not physically present. He had, during a meeting with the American President, video called in. “This is the most important time that two people can share,” he’d said, “and I’m not going to miss a second of it!” True to his word, he’d had a Secret Service agent record the whole thing so that he could see it after the fact when his business calls were over.

Somehow, in her sleep-drunken state, Harriet was successfully convinced by the nuns to name her child “Warlock.” It is likely that the Secret Service agents were either required by their contracts to stay quiet or simply delighted that there wouldn’t be a child named Thaddeus Dowling IV in their care.

In room three, Henry struggled much more with a name.

“Warlock? Certainly not. Can you imagine having to write that on a tax form?”

“Of course. Well, what did you want from a name?”

“I suggested ‘Martyn,’” he said, “spelled with a Y. Ordinary enough to fit in, outlandish enough to stand out. I wanted something traditional, you see, but Deirdre read somewhere that children who share names with their peers feel as though they must compete for attention. It was the first thing I could think of.”

“How about a biblical name? Those are some traditional-yet-odd names.” Luke, Mark, Gabriel, and Ezekiel were suggested and rejected in turn. The nun started to become worried that he would notice that she didn’t actually know the Bible all that well—she was a Satanist, after all. Finally, she said, “Well, there’s always Adam.”

Henry looked at the baby (Death, Destroyer of Worlds) up and down. Then, he turned his head and looked at the baby sideways, longways, and all sorts of ways. He repeated the name a few times in a few different intonations. He spelled it out in his head and thought about connotation and etymology and all sorts of things without any real understanding of any of them. Then he did it all over again, still thinking.

“No,” he said. “I think we ought to just go with Martyn. Saves a lot of headache, sticking with the first thing you think of.”

And so, Harriet Dowling and her Secret Service agents drove away with Warlock Dowling while Deirdre and Henry Littlewood took home Martyn Littlewood, formerly, albeit briefly, known as Death, Destroyer of Worlds.

It would be nice to think that the nuns had Harriet Dowling’s child discreetly adopted and that he grew up to be astoundingly normal and not at all involved in the events that will follow, so why don’t we settle for that conclusion?

#trafficblr #rancher duo #team rancher #rancher omens au by avi #rancher omens written #avid avian says

5 notes · View notes

openingpandorasbox1 · 9 months

Text

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Biography

2004

The internet at work is down so I’m going to write a short biography of myself.

This is my life.

I was born in Blacktown Hospital and I have a mother, father, brother, and sister. When I was a baby I enjoyed eating vegemite on toast and I was told I gurgled a lot.

I’ve always had cats as pets, my first cat was named Jason who was cute, and Siamese and used to jump up and steal my toast because he also liked eating vegemite on toast.

We were living in a different suburb for a short time and I attended my first year of school there but I only remained for a quarter of the year because we moved and then I went to a different public school in South Penrith.

My school uniform was blue and every season all the kids would collect different things, once it was football cards, marbles, yo-yos’s and people would swap them with other kids. I remember we all had silkworms as pets.

When I was a child I liked Strawberry Shortcake dolls as well as having a Cabbage Patch Doll.

After primary, I attended High School which I disliked. Our uniform was maroon and pink but I rarely wore it. I wore it on mufti day because I didn’t have the money to pay to dress in casual clothing I never asked Mum for the money because I just didn’t care.

My friends and I spent most of recess and lunchtime in the out-of-bounds area and we would sometimes get detention if we got caught.

I didn’t like sport and during sport, we had to wear a pleated skirt with bloomers underneath. My sister was at our school when I was in Year 7 but she left and went to a high school in Mount Druitt.

Our year had more students than previous years which is why we had demountable classrooms. The principal told us kids that the demountable classrooms we used were only for the short term but they were there for the entire time I was at school. The subjects I liked in high school were art and history.

My sister and I used to share a bedroom which we both disliked but thankfully my brother moved out of his bedroom and my sister and I were able to have our own bedrooms.

When I was a teenager I never went to the discos that the school held and that is probably because I didn’t want to be stuck in the same room with a bunch of people who made my school experience a living hell. I didn’t start going out to nightclubs as an adult until I was aged 20 and that is when me and my friends started going out more. The nightclubs we went to in our early 20s were good but I don’t think there are any good local bars for young people to go to now. I just remember we loved dance music, techno music which became popular during the 1990s and we still like it today.

#my biography #biography #autobiography

0 notes

incorrectbatfam · 3 years

Note

I'm in a mood™ so i was wondering if you had any hcs of the batkids growing up together? (babydamibabydami)

I've done this before in this ask but I'm more than happy to add on!

(Also screw canon age gaps, I'm doing what feels right.)

Bruce, Talia, and Selina are all co-parents in a poly relationship

Duke likes to finger paint

Babs got a used accordion for fifteen bucks at a garage sale

Damian's first "real" food was Talia's rice pudding

Wayne Enterprises has an entire floor dedicated to looking after not just Bruce's, but all the employees' children. Carrie declared herself the "Queen of the Fourth Floor"

At one point Tim was getting bullied so Dick drove Cass, Jason, Harper, and Cullen to the bully's house in the middle of the night and the five of them stood outside their window with plague doctor masks chanting in Latin until the bully swore to lay off

Just like how Damian's first word was Jason's name, Damian's first steps were toward Jason after a bad day at school

Dick is lowkey jealous knowing he's not Damian's favorite sibling

Steph and Duke made a go-kart out of a red wagon, and that's how there's a Duke-shaped hole in the fence

Cass owns fifty water bottles but uses the same one every day

Bruce chaperoned Dick's junior prom

Selina gets each kid a cat on their birthday

Babs came to class late with coffee one time and the entire class now calls her the "Starbucks white girl"

There's an under-the-table vegetable swapping system at dinner, where the kids trade out the ones they don't like for the ones they do. The ones nobody wants are mashed up and given to Damian

Carrie is the champion nose-picker

Steph and Duke were born just a few hours apart at different hospitals, and are therefore known as the twins

Tim is not allowed to use chopsticks. Not even the little kiddie ones

Cullen once brought an entire head of lettuce to school as lunch

Bruce plays classical music around Damian, but Jason counteracts it with trashy punk rock

Bruce: "Studies say it helps babies grow intellectually"

Jason: "He's not supposed to grow, he's supposed to be our baby brother"

Duke likes cherry tomatoes over regular tomatoes because they're colorful

Harper got her motorcycle license before her driver's license (thanks to Kate)

Dick slices his string cheese. Wally bites into his. Babs is horrified by both

Nobody remembers the last time Bruce Wayne was seen not wearing a baby carrier

When Duke eats salads, he imagines he's a giant consuming an entire land (and the olives are people)

There's a five-year gap between Jason (age 12) and Tim (age 7). The reason is since Bruce adopted them in birth order when they were babies, he planned to stop at five kids, but then Jason got irrationally angry about being the youngest so Bruce got Tim and it all spiraled from there

Harper once melted an entire stick of butter and convinced Cullen to drink it

Dick once tried to sell Jason on eBay

Damian is very territorial. Nobody can touch his stuffed animals—even for washing—unless he gives them explicit permission

Tim once tried a cheese taste test with Damian, and that's how they learn Damian is lactose intolerant

Harper once bought thirty pounds of beef jerky online (she accidentally typed a 0 after the 3)

Talia helps Jason with Arabic homework

Damian produces the stinkiest farts

All WE employees get six months paid maternity/paternity leave

Tim and Kon got "married" on the playground with Jason as the officiant, Steph as the flower girl, and Duke as a ring bear (he dressed up as a bear and brought Ring Pops)

Steph and Duke are kept on child leashes when they go to the amusement park because they keep trying to get on rollercoasters they're too short for

Jason's also kept on a child leash, but that's because he tried to take the head off every costumed mascot at Disneyland

Even though the ingredients are the same, Dick inexplicably makes PB&Js better than everyone else

Kate can clear ten hot wings in sixty seconds

Bruce has appeared on the cover of more parenting and family magazines than celebrity and business ones combined

Instead of using her skills to hurt people, Talia uses them to protect her newfound family

Alfred secretly joined a senior citizens book club to brag about his grandchildren

Someone once said to Selina, "You know he's always gonna pay attention to kid kids first, right?" To which she replied, "I wouldn't have picked him if he didn't"

#ask #anonymous #batfamily #batfam #batclan #batman family #batkids #batsibings #dc comics #headcanon #tw food mention

341 notes · View notes

timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 10 - Pudding & Champagne

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @sunwoowuvbot @suzy-rainbow @miingxuxi

“What would it have been like, had she been the one in Kim Jang Won’s shoes instead?”

“What was that about?” Jang Won’s look of disapproval is the strongest on her face now than he has ever seen on her. “The Hell’s wrong with you? Have you not been to a check-up before? Were you mad you couldn’t go in with me? What?”

“We... can get you to another hospital for your check-ups, how’s that? I can recommend you my family doctor and he’s one of the best in the city-”

“What? Is that what it is? You’re upset because I’m not seeing ‘one of the best doctors’ in the city?”

Juyeon refuses to respond, her wrist in his grip as she’s trying to wriggle her way out. “Juyeon!”

“Please, just shut up, and trust me, will you?”

“Trust you? You don’t even want to tell me what the Hell’s going on!”

Upon reaching the car, Juyeon finally releases her, leaving a bright peach-pink mark on her wrists where he held her too tightly. He pulls open the passenger’s door, but she violently slams it back shut, palm reaching out and pressing into the line where the top of the door connects to the roof of the car.

“We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what that was.”

“Jesus Christ, will you just trust me for this once? This has nothing to do with HERA & ARTEMIS or your family! This is for your own health and I... I have my own reasons, okay?” Juyeon huffs, running his hands through his hair and ruining the efforts of Younghoon’s hairstylist from the morning. “Not everything is about money, or your reputation, or The Board, okay? I just have a bad feeling about... this.”

Jang Won reels backwards, frown deepening and her lips pursed into a tight, thin, suspicious line.

He inhales a sharp breath, turning around on his feet and paces up and down in the next lot. He sucks in his lips between his teeth with his hands on the back of his neck. Silently; harshly, begging his intelligence to cook up some stupid, believable reason before she drives a knife into his back for being unreasonable.

“Okay,” Whirling around, he lifts a single finger and approaches her slowly. “So don’t change hospitals. But every time you go for your check-up, you tell me. If she prescribes you medication, I see it, okay?”

Her pupils are shaking, now that he’s closer and he’s got his palms on her shoulders. Her lips part, wishing to hurl a string of vulgarities at him for even thinking he can dictate her life.

But then he opens his arms and wraps them around her, her frown fading and shock replacing her anger instead. His breath is heavy into the hair that fell onto her back, and she can feel his chest rising against her shoulders.

“What the- Juyeon...”

“Please, just promise me this one thing,” The layer of wetness coat his eyes, and he keeps his mouth open to regulate his breathing. “Please.”

There’s a growing, uneasy nausea in her stomach when she struggles to process his words. It’s in her instincts to pull away, probably send a palm into one of his cheeks for thinking that he has the autonomy and power to decide what she gets to do and what she doesn’t, but she can’t. Almost ashamed, she finds herself buying his plea.

Is this what genuine care and concern sounds like?

He pulls away, the heat of the carpark air rushing between their bodies. He’s searching her face for any sign of relent, any sign of resignation, and she finds desperation in his. The questions in her head can’t even begin to formulate, because there’s absolutely no reason for Juyeon to be so bothered by her health, and yet he’s got no agenda to be suspicious about.

He’d be the richer, more powerful one of the two in just about a month’s time.

“Jang Won.”

“Okay!” Shutting her eyes and raising her hands, she trembles as she agrees. “Okay. I’ll bring you along whenever I come for a check-up.”

Relief washes over him, and she can see his lungs deflate, like he was holding his breath waiting for her response. She looks away, unable to maintain any form of eye contact with him after experiencing what seems to be like cared for. It’s disgustingly alien, and it kind of wants to make her cry too.

It’s like finding your favourite toy stashed away in some obscure cabinet after 20 years.

Juyeon rests his palms on her shoulders again, then gradually pulls her in once more, this time gentler; less aggressive. A protest rises in her throat, but is interrupted by the form of his palm stroking the hair on the back of her head.

Yoo Hye In is twirling the stray bit of fringe hanging from her face, Jang Won’s folder in her left hand, stuck between her torso and her right elbow. It was a pity she had missed most of the conversation between her patient and her husband, but nonetheless, the sight of them intrigues her.

What would it have been like, had she been the one in Kim Jang Won’s shoes instead?

The Porsche starts up with a melancholic atmosphere - not a single word exchanged between the two when they part and he opens the door for her. Already, she can tell that Juyeon is harboring a parasite, one that he will grow to hate and despise. His heart is opening up to her, a piece of stone-cold, less-than-human brat who has no clue how lucky she was to be born into the family that shouldn’t even have existed. The warmth for Kim Jang Won was beginning to brew in the depths of Juyeon’s gut, against his wishes, against his needs, against his wants.

He must have a world of problems to worry about, and now, to throw Kim Jang Won into the floor plan?

Yoo Hye In fails to contain the slight smirk that arises on her lips when the car drives off with Juyeon at the wheel. Pushing herself off the wall of the lift lobby, she turns, heading back into the lift.

Younghoon was busy sieving through the racks and racks and racks of clothes in the second master bedroom when he hears his little sister’s heels clack and echo along the corridor.

“Ms Kim, your brother is here.”

“Huh?”

“Surprise!” Younghoon sticks his head out of the second master, eyeing the couple entering the hallway and the butler chasing after them from the stairs.

“What are you doing with my honeymoon closet?” She hurriedly steps over, heels clacking noisily as she rushes to greet him with a slap on his arm.

“Tea will be ready in 15, Mr Lee,” Mr Ro bows from the stairs, not bothering to make it to the second floor. Juyeon nods, turning to listen to the muffled bickering emitting from the second master.

“This is alot of clothes for a cool climate. It’s not gonna snow, is it?” Younghoon dumps himself in one of the sofa seats by the coffee table, bringing his feet up to the edge of the bed where some leather patches were displaying scarfs and other garments. Jang Won reaches over and slaps his feet off, pressing down into the scarfs to neaten them.

“No, it’s not. But you know me, I’m extra and greedy and I have no clue what’s appropriate, so.”

Juyeon enters the room, eyes glossing over the almost 20 racks of clothes, and easily half of them were clothes for him, from HERA & ARTEMIS (and probably like, Dior, and Chanel, or LV, or Gucci, or HERMES). He bows and greets Younghoon, who waves it off nonchalantly as he stands.

“I heard you stayed over,” Raising an arm and casually resting it over Juyeon’s shoulders, Younghoon cheekily side-eyes him.

“It was an impromptu situation,” Juyeon’s eyes slightly widen with caution.

“Yeah, he ran away from home. Lovely, right?” Jang Won chortles, moving over to one of the racks and skimming through the dresses.

Younghoon chuckles in disbelief, brows high up on his forehead as he turns to Juyeon, holding him by his shoulder.

“What?” His glossy eyes flicker. “I’m technically her husband now, which means I could technically live here too.”

“You wish,” Jang Won removes some clothes from the rack and into an empty one.

“Anyway, I managed to get a PI to dig out more information on Mr Nam’s body swap.”

“Body swap?” Juyeon’s eyes light up with caution disguised in curiosity. “You mean... the one that replaced your father?”

“The one and only,” Jang Won sings with a matter-of-fact tone.

“They actually didn’t figure out much, which is weird, but we did get information on where he used to go for health check ups. Turns out, he went to the same hospital as you do.”

“Aren’t the hospital fees expensive? Did Artemis Ent. provide coverage costs?”

“We don’t cover the entire bill but there is a discount or some kind of partial coverage.”

“Did we get a doctor’s name or something?”

“Multiple, actually,” Younghoon scratches the line where his hairline meets his forehead. “He kept changing doctors because his diagnosis kept changing.”

“This is alot of information at once. Can’t you get it in a folder and have it mailed to me or something? My honeymoon is soon and I’d like the time to myself and not worry about a dead man.”

“Sure, it’s not like I was gonna recite every piece of information to you now,” Younghoon turns and heads for the door. “Tea’s ready, by the way.”

And then, for some strange reason, Younghoon runs.

“Oh! No!” Jang Won’s sudden change in mannerism stuns Juyeon. She flings the clothes back onto her bed and dashes after Younghoon right after he leaves the room. “No! You’re gonna finish the pudding on your own!”

The footsteps slam down into the marble floor when Younghoon starts running down the steps as well. She yells, and her heels click-clack to an abrupt stop for her to remove her shoes.

“You’re going on your honeymoon, you should give me the pudding!”

With one sharp burst of a sprint, Jang Won manages to catch up to Younghoon, pulling his neck into a headlock and struggling to yank the end of his blazer over his head.

“Agh!” He shouts, almost losing his balance as he stumbles backwards. “That’s cheating!”

Jang Won giggles, the marble cold against her feet as she pushes past him and runs backwards into the dining hall. Panting, she turns on her heels, hair slightly tousled but the scent of butter pudding wafting in the air was enough to make an appetite.

However, her appetite hits the streets once she sees that the table was one seat occupied. Her breaths immediately become shallow as Younghoon pats himself down, reaching the table and sitting down even before she does.

“What-”

“Ms Kim,” Mr Ro interrupts, pushing the kitchen door open for the kitchen staff to bring out one more tray of cream puffs. “A guest must also eat.”

“But-”

“Do you want him to die in your house? And then compromise... everything?”

Jang Won puffs her cheeks and frowns. Glaring at Mr Ro, she pulls out the nearest seat, far, far away from her father, and dumps her butt in the chair.

Watching Jang Won sit down in her seat like a child after acting like one with her brother draws a susceptible smile on Juyeon’s face as he makes his way into the dining hall.

She picks up the fork as Juyeon bows subtly to Kim Jo-Pil, taking a seat next to her.

“‘A guest must also eat’,” She whines under her breath. Juyeon’s gaze darts to her when he can hear her mockery. “‘Do you want him to die in your house?’”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Younghoon calls from across the table, hands occupied with spreading jam across his toast.

“Does it look like I was talking to you?” Jang Won sticks her tongue out at him, and he does the same.

“Children,” Juyeon criticises under his breath, smirk prancing on his lips. In his peripheral vision, he spots a smile emerging on Kim Jo-Pil’s face. It’s the kind of smile that only a father would have, when he’s at the dining table watching his two children argue with one another.

Kim Jo-Pil can’t decide if he was grateful or resentful for the fact that he was alive again. Fate has a strange way of forcing people into thinking the worst or the best out of situations that you weren’t meant to be in, and right now, Kim Jo-Pil knows for a fact that he shouldn’t be sitting here.

He should’ve been lying in a coffin, 6 feet under, rotting. He had been given a second shot at life, and by the last person he’d expected to birth him one.

But if Yoo Hye In had Se Kyung’s eyes, Jang Won had the rest of her.

On the balcony outside Jang Won’s massive bedroom, Juyeon finds himself fiddling with a glass of champagne that Mr Ro had offered him in secret. Jang Won’s favourite champagne, tens of thousands of dollars per bottle.

In the distance and past the metal bars, he can make out the lights in the city against the navy-blue nightsky. All the tall skyscrapers and amongst one of them was the building his family owned, where he should’ve been today and all the days prior. Maybe even next week. But he’d be halfway across the globe in about 5 days, spending time with his wife, not by choice, but by force - and yet he’s gone all soft for her. It’s strange, how his expectations have changed drastically throughout this ordeal. For some moments in this silence he has to himself, he worries if this is sympathy he feels for her.

Then again, sympathy is better than if it were anything more serious.

Like love.

The door being pulled open from behind him drags him out of his drowning thoughts. The secrets piled up in his memory chucks itself away in fear upon the sight of Jang Won’s head sticking out through the gap between the doors.

“I’ve been told a bottle of my favourite champagne has been opened.”

Juyeon turns back to the glass sitting on the floor and picks it up. “I was given this glass, in case you were wondering if I went into your wine cellar. Want the rest?”

With a childish grin on her face, Jang Won pulls out the entire bottle and an empty from behind her back. Juyeon raises both brows in delightful surprise, chuckling under his breath.

“I was gonna offer it to you anyway, so it doesn’t matter that Mr Ro’s given you a glass himself,” She slots the rest of her body through the gaps and shuts it behind her. Sinking into the sofa seat (Juyeon had known it was hers and decided to make himself comfortable on the floor instead), she places the bottle on the stand and yanks the cork off.

“You were gonna offer me your favourite champagne?” He raises a skeptic brow. “After you called me a coward yesterday? After our wedding?”

“That was yesterday?” Jang Won tilts the bottle over her glass. “Feels like last week.”

He snorts at her attempt to change the focus of the conversation. “It does.”

“I just... thought that since the wedding was all for show and none of it was real...” She places the bottle back down and swirls the champagne. “At least this was by choice.”

“What, hanging out on your balcony and drinking champagne?”

Jang Won snickers and pulls her legs onto the seat, taking a sip of her share.

“Are you really okay with giving me 50% of HERA & ARTEMIS though?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I? I’m not gonna give my father all 100% of it.”

Juyeon turns away and stares at the bit of champagne left in his glass. “What’s your plan after that? After your father and I get half each and your brother for Artemis Ent.”

“I’ll worry about that then,” She gulps down the rest of her champagne, then reaches over to grab the bottle. “Right now, I just can’t wait to get out of here.”

Juyeon’s finishes the rest of his champagne then looks up to see her gulping straight from the bottle.

“Do you have a death wish?” He stands and places his glass next to hers. She doesn’t stop. Wrapping his fingers around the cool glass, he gently pulls it away from her lips and tears it out of her grip. Judging by the weight of the bottle, she’s downed half of it in one shot.

He sucks in a deep breath, turning and leaving the bottle in the corner of the balcony where it’s out of her reach.

“Do you think your parents love you?”

The question turns his attention back to her.

“Why do you ask that?” His voice is quiet and low as he sits himself between her and the bottle. “You know I would say no but I can’t say that in front of you.”

“Do you think they did what they did solely for the family’s name?”

“Their defence would be that I get to live with the benefits. So-”

“I’m not talking about them, I’m asking about what you think.”

Juyeon pauses to think, but Jang Won speaks first anyway.

“I think they do, you know. That they do love you. They just... grew up in an environment where they’re just doing what their parents did for them. They turned out fine, so I think they just assume you’ll turn out fine as well.”

“‘Fine’ now is different from being ‘fine’ in the 1960s and 70s,” Juyeon leans his head against the metal bars keeping him safe within the balcony.

Jang Won’s head was resting against the backseat of the sofa chair, hair dribbled all over the woven wooden strips and her eyes reflecting the dim, amber balcony lights from above. She’s tired, and definitely feeling like the entire world is against her.

If she squinted hard enough, she could barely make out the huge H&A signs stuck to the side of shopping malls all around the city. By now, she can feel her cheeks heat up from the alcohol ingested in such a short amount of time, but luckily for her, the amber lights are helping the pink in her cheeks camouflage into her skin.

She turns to find Juyeon staring at the bottle’s label, like he were memorizing the details of it.

“I’ll get you a new bottle,” Juyeon holds the neck and grunts as he stands, hands reaching for the cork on the stand. “Also, your cheeks are pink. I think that’s good enough reason to get you to sleep.”

Juyeon reaches for the door grip to slide it open, pulling it open just a few inches.

“I miss my mom.”

He stops.

“Tomorrow’s her death anniversary,” She whispers under her breath. “It’s been five long years without her.”

They lock eyes, but Jang Won turns away first.

“Hera’s Manor was meant for the both of us. The blueprint of the house... every room and every statue purchased and made the way we wanted it to be made. But before the house could be moved into, she leaves me. All alone.”

Jang Won’s eyes flit to Juyeon, and he can’t look at her in the eye. He’s not used to her opening up like this, but it’s all thanks to the champagne anyway. Never in a million years would she bother to do this if she wasn’t tipsy.

“I mean... Does she know I’m here now? In this very spot, wondering what had gone wrong?”

Juyeon lowers his head and seals his eyes shut. The guilt stirs within him.

“I wish I could tell her that I’m okay, at least. She always worried about me more than Younghoon, for some strange reason, because I was a girl in the administration of The Board,” Her voice cracks and Juyeon’s eyes are open now. “And yet, I’m the one taking care of him now.”

She gulps loudly, trying her best to swallow the ball of sobs stuck in her throat. Shaking her head and prying out a painful smile, she finally snaps when she looks down into her lap where her hands are.

Gritting her teeth, and pursing her lips, it’s a meagre attempt at trying to stop the hiccups that are already in the back of her mouth. The tears begin to collect in her palms and kiss the material of her pajama pants, the warmth seeping through the cotton and sticking it to her thighs.

The shuffling rustles through her left ear, followed by a soft thud of the glass decanter, and then she feels a warmth hold her hands. Cold tears bleed through the lines of their palms when she opens her eyes, just barely, to meet Juyeon’s.

He’s got a painful, pitiful look in his eyes that she would punch him in the face for, but even she can’t disagree that she was being a sad mope right now.

“Your mother knows,” He nods, reaching up to her forehead and pushing a strand of hair out of her tear streaks. “I promise you.”

Her facial muscles crush towards the middle when the sobs finally break past her discipline, and she crumbles her face into her hands. The sorrow in Juyeon carefully motivates her off the seat, and he shuffles to get his back against the metal bars of the balcony, and her in his arms between his legs.

His nose sours and his vision starts to blur when he can feel her torso shiver and jerk with every sob he hears. The side of her head nestles into his left shoulder, hands tightly clenched together against her stomach with his elbow resting on her bent knees.

He parts his lips to inhale, but he looks down to watch the tears drip off her chin.

“Are you going to meet Younghoon to see your mother tomorrow?” He whispers, gently pushing her hair out of her tears.

She sniffles, wiping away the mucus on her philtrum. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” He nods, keeping her head on his shoulder. “I’ll go with you.”

“Okay.”

#multifandomnet #destinyverse #the boyz scenarios #juyeon scenarios #the boyz fanfic #juyeon fanfic #the boyz imagines #juyeon imagines #the boyz juyeon imagines #the boyz juyeon fanfic #the boyz juyeon scenarios #tbz juyeon #lee juyeon #the boyz #the boyz juyeon #juyeon angst #the boyz angst #love me a little less

71 notes · View notes

wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

the worst case scenario part 4

Finally! Sorry it took so so long I’ve just been mad busy! I’m really not sure how much I like this, but deff this is the second last part (if people still want another) so not much more to endure and suffer through if your stuck in it ahah x

tomhollandxreader

Warnings [please check before reading!!] : mentions of death / hospitals and ICUs / bit of lack of childhood love (have no idea how to phrase that rn wow)

Tom had silently cried again when saying goodnight to Y/n for the evening. Harrison hadn’t a clue what to do, except stand back helplessly and watch, giving his friend a bit of space - but at the same time not letting him go it alone. It took a painfully long time for Tom to collect himself before he could straighten up and turn toward Haz.

“You sure you don’t mind staying with her?” Harrison nodded pitifully at Tom’s glassy eyes, the way his eyebrows were furrowed downwards.

“I’ll stay till 10, I got her”

“I owe you bro” Mumbling, Tom launched himself to wrap his arms round his taller mate - squeezing extra hard because that was a way of distracting him from the emotions still threatening to overtake him.

“Nah I’m not doing this for you div…. I love her too ya know?” That made Tom scoff laugh a little, nodding his head as he leant away.

“Yeh she…she has that effect. Just-“ Tom momentarily looked back at the bed, watching the ventilator pump air to mechanically inflate your lungs. “Just call me if anything happens, please promise me.”

“You already know I will…. but- and I know this is hard for you- but you have to promise me you’ll give the baby a chance?” Tom gulped at the mention, looking away at the blue curtains for a minute, his jaw clenching. “Come on Tom just give her a feed or something… you know it’s what Y/n would want.“

“Can we not speak about this in front of her please?” Tom's voice was short and teeth were gritted as he gestured at his unconscious fiancé, giving the clear impression to H that it wasn’t really a question. The nurse pretended to busy herself monitoring all Y/n’s readings, feeling incredibly awkward. She was the one who had mentioned to Tom that Y/n might be able to hear, at the time meaning to be a comforting and possibly hopeful gesture, now she was deeply regretting it. This wasn’t the first uncomfortable situation she’d been in, working 1 on 1 with patients in ICU meant you were automatically privy to some of the deepest conversations between patients and relatives - though this was the first time it was a celeb too, especially one who valued his privacy so much. It was more than obvious Tom wasn’t uncomfortable just because his fiancé might be conscious enough to hear.

“No Tom I…” Harrison lost control. He snapped “No not at all! Because I know she’d want me to give you a good bloody shake! I get you haven’t landed on a name yet but at least see your daughter! I bloody hope Y/n hears this… if that’s what it takes for you to realise that, to be honest she’d be heartbroken and betrayed that you haven’t been loving your baby!”

Silence, except for the beeping and whirring of the various machines.

And the silence stayed for a painfully long time - Tom and Harrison holding each other in intense eye contact, whilst the nurse bit her lip in the corner. Harrisons breathing was slightly ragged from the whisper-shouted words that he’d let slip out. The atmosphere was tense, the nurse was inwardly preparing calling for help if and when Tom ultimately started throwing fists at his friend.

It took literal minutes for Harrison to concede, his friend's dark eyes painfully boring into his skull. Again he hadn’t meant to go off like that, he really didn't want to hurt his friend who was literally going through hell and back. Now wasn’t the time for tough love really , and Harrison instantly felt an insurmountable level of guilt.

“I-I didn-“

“-her names Aurora.”

“No Tom I’m sorry I really didn-“

“Her name is Aurora. Aurora Christina Mary Holland.” Tom wasn’t joking. He was so deadly and sincerely serious. Harrison had no trouble believing this, believing that Tom had been ruminating all day on this - just by the look of his brown eyes.

“It’s beautiful.” The blonde almost was gasping, inwardly repeating the name as a chant inside his head, correlating it to the memories of earlier that day when he was cradling the girl. There was no doubt about it- Aurora was an Aurora, it suited her perfectly. Yes, it wasn’t typical but it was beautiful. “What’s it mean?” He only asked because nobody picked a name without looking into it and Harrison knew that the couple had yet to name the little girl when she was first born as they were still torn between a few carefully considered options.

“Dawn like sunrise I think and-and, you know… the auroras that me and Y/n saw in Iceland the night I…. The night I proposed.”

The word held an awful lot of emotion for Tom. Y/n had always been one of those people - the ‘look up’ type or the ‘smell the roses’. Underneath her sarcasm and wit, she was one of the purest people, in the way that all she needed was the little things in life. It was a ball ache to Tom sometimes but Y/n always would drag him out of bed at stupid o’clock in the morning on a beautiful day to see the sunrise. He’d moan and groan all the way, only to grow silent when he gazed deeply at the sunrise sparkling her eye as she peered out at the horizon.

Of course, the aurora borealis was important too. You can probably already guessed; Y/n loved the night sky and stars too. She also loved the snow, the winter, the cosy log fires, the walks spent launching the freezing powder at Tom’s face - only to get it returned twice as bad. So when Tom was ready and oh so certain he would spend the rest of his life with her, a trip to Iceland seemed a pretty good opportunity to do it. No expense was spared on their little cabin in the woods, wrapped in cosy blankets staring up at the sky through the transparent roof that was the reason this cabin was so incredibly expensive. They’d spent the evening after they’d got back from exploring the frozen forest wrapped in the thick white duvet, chatting pure rubbish while cradling a luxurious hot chocolate, complete with marshmallows and whipped cream. Then these almost otherworldly green and blue ribbons grabbed their attention, dancing and waving across the deep midnight sky. Whilst she was transfixed, hair billowing round her on the pillow while staring upwards - that was when Tom leaned over, pulling the little black box out of the bedside table.

And then there was the new connotation to the word. The new situation that had him so incredibly hesitant to label her just yet. If Aurora meant a new dawn and meant life without Y/n he didn’t want it. More than that, he refused. No matter how impossible it was, Tom refused to think about life without her. It just wasn’t an option. It couldn’t happen.

Yet without much control over his own mouth, when Harrison had asked, it had just slipped out. He knew it had to be her name. But the fact he’d spoken it… that was terrifying.

“Well go see Aurora Tom… please.” This time they’d swapped, Tom was stoney faced and Harrison knew he was about to cry, which really Tom didn’t need to witness. What he needed to do was get him with his daughter. So again, for now, Harrison's emotions would wait.

And with only a small nod of parting, off Tom walked. The man left in the bay released a breath he didn’t know he was holding before turning and all but collapsing into the armchair next to Y/n. Unsurprisingly, this still was too much to process and shut his eyes, squeezing the bridge between the nose as he tried to slow down all the blurring thoughts in his mind - simultaneously trying to bring each one into focus and shock … that wasn’t very easy.

It was in fact at least two and a half hours he sat there, the white noise of the ward whirring dully in Harrison's head while he spent the time just… thinking. He looked asleep, eyes closed and slumped in the chair but he was painfully awake. All the remaining energy that dwindled in him from before this whole nightmare had started was spent trying to organise his thoughts; process all the medical explanations and jargon he’d heard; everything he’d seen, all the wires and tube; the advice on how to feed a baby with a bottle.

That was until a voice got progressively louder from the background crackle, slowly forming into intelligible words.

“Sir… Sir?” Blinking forcefully Harrison's eyes lazily focused on the nurse that had been stationed next to Y/n for certainly as long as he had been here, her black hair pulled tightly into a low bun and kind eyes smiling at him. “Sorry for waking you.”

“No no I was just ehrmm… just thinking.” She nodded with a gentle smile that kind of suggested she didn’t believe him but relented all the same.

“It’s just getting late and I thought you’d like an update before I clock off for the evening?” Nodding frantically, Harrison’s eye quickly shot over to Y/n - just to check she was still there.

“Okay well it all seems really positive actually. The doctors were in just before…” Alright, so maybe H had fallen a little bit asleep because he definitely didn’t know that the doctor had been in. “… they’ve withdrawn the sedation and her GCS has started to improve slightly, which basically is a measure of how unconscious a person is.”

“She’s waking up?” Haz was now bolt upright in the chair, looking between the nurse and the still apparently unconscious women lying in the bed.

“Very slowly… but it is looking good, maybe, the doctors are keen to see her condition tomorrow. I thought you might like to help me do her last GCS check of the evening?”

Just maybe the nurse had already taken these set of observations before she’d stirred Harrison but it was a nice way to demonstrate improvements that couldn’t really be seen to a patient's relative - who couldn’t interpret results like qualified health care professionals could. Hopefully, Y/n’s response would be the same as before and then maybe Harrison could report back to the heartbroken fiancé that maybe things weren’t so bad. Standing in front of Harrison, the state of him was more than evident and she had a sneaking suspicion Tom would be worse. Instantaneously then, Harrison nodded vigorously; jumping out his chair with sprite that even he didn’t know he had.

“Okay so in GCS we test eye responses, verbal responses and the motor - so movement…” The lady talked through it all to Haz who listened intently, nodding his head every so often. She then went through the process of first asking Y/n to open her eyes - nothing. Then applying light pressure to her forehead, still Y/n lay still. She then moved on to trying to rouse her with words, getting Harrison to join in but still receiving nothing back. It was starting to feel a bit hopeless to Harrison, yet he still entertained the lady, going through all her steps.

“Okay so now we test movement so first hold her hand and ask her to squeeze it.” Following her directions precisely Harrison tried, still receiving absolutely no response. “Okay so now we add stimuli, trying squeezing between her shoulder and neck, like your pinching her just not too hard.”

Hesitantly Harrison reached up to her shoulder adding a small pressure between his thumb and first and second finger. Again nothing happened but the nurse encouraged him to go a bit harder - he was being light as he just didn't want to hurt her. With a nod and a small mumble of “cmon Y/n/n” he added strength. It took a moment or two but then sure as Harrison standing there himself, Y/n’s opposite right arm limply twitched upwards - making a small almost pathetic, yet still very clear attempt to remove the pressure on her shoulder.

Looking up at the nurse pleadingly Harrison received a confirmatory nod back at him - communicating the fact that this was indeed progress. In fact, just seeing Y/n not completely limp and almost vegetative - made his adrenalin soar.

“It’s baby steps but in the right direction okay?”

Letting out a breathy and relieved laugh Harrison nodded jerkily, wiping his cheek on his shoulder just because there might’ve just been a tear or two there.

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

For Tom forcing himself to leave the ICU was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Why he had ever agreed with his mother was so ridiculously beyond on him, yet he felt he had somewhat lost his choice thanks to his well meaning best mate forcing him down the children’s floor. It wasn’t that he hated Aurora, physically that was an impossibility. And yet he hated what she’d done to Y/n, he hated that he was alone in this, he hated the whole situation. Which ultimately was his fault 9 months ago- which just made him hate himself even more.

Also in some weird and convoluted way, he felt as though he was betraying Y/n by seeing their baby. And that was exactly why… it was their baby. She’d been so excited, so so over the moon when those two lines appeared on the stick - it was cruelly unfair that he was physically capable to see her and Y/n was paralysed in an unconscious state.

Again his body seemed to be on autopilot, Tom was confused as to how he knew where he needed to go - having skilfully avoided the children’s ward for as long as possible. It was like a homing instinct, as much as he consciously was almost terrified to see her - he still appeared to need her near him. Seeing his parents in the hallway, Nikki cradling the little bundle wrapped in blankets, both of them making small talk to the nurse opposite. It was his dad who noticed him first, looking over the cautious look in his eyes and the way his fingers clutched nervously at the bottom of his hoodie.

“How is she?”

“The same I guess… she okay?” He nodded toward the little baby, Nikki looking up excitedly.

“She’s beautiful… a little bit stressed out but…” Nikki referred to her slight fussing, which was clearly far from full blown scream, more like tired and muted groans.She didn't really realise her poor choice of words till her son mumbled under his breath.

“Not the only one.”

Before she could apologise and backtrack, the same nurse who had been so kind to Harrison approached them all.

“Ah… Mr Holland right?” He nodded passively, receiving yet another sympathetic smile back. So many of them had been chucked about today, each one becoming less and less helpful and more and more infuriating. Though Tom was not about to fly off the handle since in all honesty, he was too drained for that. “ I just need to get you to sign some paperwork in private with me before we can formally discharge baby Holland. Would you mind bringing her in here?”

Almost even before finishing the statement she had already disappeared through a door into another hospital room, as if demanding him to follow immediately in order to comply with her busy schedule. Still stood a little dazzled, Tom watched the door swing shut while his brows furrowed, until eventually turning back to his mum. Aurora’s groans and general discontent had somewhat escalated during the small interaction with the nurse lady, her immature lungs producing an impressive level of volume. Nikki was doing the best she could, bouncing the little bundle up and down though it had little effect.

So wordlessly and as if in slow motion, Tom took the two steps necessary to be inches away from his mum - now able to completely see Aurora’s distressed face scrunching up with each sharp inhalation. He didn’t want to but Harrison had betrayed him by telling Y/n; the nurse wanted her in the side room; and he did…. He did want to. Wanted to have her pure and soft skin nested into his chest not Nikki’s; wanted to be her safety and her comfort; wanted to do Y/n proud.

In silence, Tom scooped the girl out his mum's grip, both Dom and Nikki watching his with cautious and shocked eyes - as Tom kept his gaze completely on the little thing. Then, he whisked the two of them into the room, away from the prying eyes (even if they were his own parents and Aurora’s grandparents).

As soon as he walked in the nurse pressed her mouth shut, sensing the need to be an invisible entity for a short while. Dom and Nikki had expressed their concerns about Tom’s feeling toward the baby girl before he’d arrived on the ward. She was acutely aware this was the first time he’d held his child in the last 18 hours.

Tom sat down, the girl silent now as she blinked open heavy eyes in confusion, probably because she recognised these arms but couldn’t place where. That was the first time Tom had seen his daughters eyes and all he saw was Y/n. Her Y/e/c eyes with the little darker flick in the bottom half of each iris. Aurora was his little piece of Y/n, which in that moment Tom realised was perhaps what he needed all day. Tears were tracking steadily down his cheeks while Tom used the back of his first finger to gently stroke up and down Aurora’s little chin- enjoying the way she leant into the action, uncoordinated movements of her head wiggling herself within the crook of his elbow.

The two of them and then the nurse opposite just sat quietly for five or so minutes, till eventually - lulled by her Dad’s regular stroking action, deep breaths and scent- Aurora let her eyes close again.

“She looks very happy with you Dad.” The nurse thought now was the safest time to speak, voice low, then taking the time to wait for Tom to respond. When eventually he did, it didn’t really fit the conversation but it was all Tom wanted to - and could- say in that moment.

“She’s just like her mum.”

The two then went through all the various forms Tom had to sign, all of which he did carefully so as not to disturb the little girl in his arms. It didn't take long before the nurse woman was ushering him out back into the hallway, where his parents were waiting anxiously for him. Dom saw the tear tracks Tom hadn’t bothered to wipe away, putting two and two together to realise maybe he’d come to his senses. So with the question of are you ready to go, Dom was more than delighted by the response he received. It wasn’t actually directed at him, more a breathy rhetorical question the sleeping child securely nestled into her dad’s toned arms.

“Let’s get you home Aurora.”

Because like it or not; no matter what the outcome was with Y/n there was doubt that this was a new start. A new dawn. It was terrifying, stressful and hard but in the same way you can’t fight the coming sunrise; Tom knew he couldn’t fight this event. It was happening, dawn was breaking and it was Aurora, him and Y/n. In whatever way fate chose it to be. A new ‘dawn’.

Aurora.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #tom holland angst #Tom Holland angst

146 notes · View notes

brianconnollyandsweet · 3 years

Text

An interview to Brian Connolly published in FAN magazine, May 1974

TRANSCRIPT:

When we asked ourselves who we could possibly get to talk about The Sweet, we didn’t have to think too hard. Who better than Brian Connolly, the handsome singer who was there at the beginning of it all? Brian, as ever, was only too willing to help. One of his hobbies is chatting, and as one of his favourite topics of conversation just happens to be The Sweet… he was delighted to oblige.

Brian starts by telling us about Mick Tucker.

“As you know, Mick is the drummer and, as far as we’re concerned, one of the best in the business. It’s only the heavy rock drummers who get the praise heaped on them, but Mick could hold his own in any company. His full name is Michael Thomas Tucker, and I’ll get it in before you can, yes, he has sung for his supper!

“Mick was born on July 17, 1949 [actual year of birth was 1947] at the Central Middlesex Hospital outside London. I remember him telling me that he joined his first group at 14, a Shadows type band. Then he got into a Beatles type group. Obviously a great believer in doing his own thing at the time was our Mick! Anyway, he left school to become a car salesman, which he did quite successfully until he swapped his showroom for showbiz and joined me in a group called Wainwright’s Gentlemen.

“Now that was some group! It was a seven-piece soul band and among its members were Ian Gillan and Roger Glover, who went on to find fame and fortune with Deep Purple. But getting back to Mick, he’s got a very wide taste in music, ranging from Tony Bennet to Argent.

“As regards his appearance, I’d say he is about six feet tall, weighs ten and half stone and has a thing about colourful clothes. Like myself, Mick is a keen swimmer and when we’re away from England on tour he keeps going on about wanting to fly home for a decent pint of beer. He sounds like a record that’s stuck, but we know what he means.

“It goes without saying we reckon he’s a great mate and about as natural as they come. He hates conceit and affected people and makes sure his [illegible] half size doesn’t go up.”

Now it’s Steve Priest who comes under the Connolly microscope.

“Steve is quite a driving force behind The Sweet and drags reserves of energy out of his body when the rest of us have just about had it. He lays down a thumping bass and you don’t have to listen to our records that closely to know how much we like to feature a heavy bass [illegible].

“He was born Stephen Norman Priest on February 23, 1950 [actual year of birth 1948] in Hayes, Middlesex. He’s five feet seven inches tall and weighs nine and a half stone. Steve is another who started in a soul band, which of course were all the rage in the early 60s. During the day he worked as a solicitor’s clerk then switched to car electronics. At night he was with his group, [The] Army, and joined us full-time when he was made redundant at his day job.

“I bet a bloke was never so glad to lose his job.

“Steve is very into songwriting and helps us a lot when it comes to writing stuff for our albums. He enjoys heavy sounds like Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix, but there is a more gentle side in his taste and I’ve known him to be knocked out by tender ballads.

“Talking of taste, he shows it in his favourite actress, Raquel Welch. Steve raves about her when all she does is stand there and look marvellous. He’d go mad if she won an Oscar!

“He’s a bit of a TV addict and isn’t too choosy about what he watches. He says it’s for relaxation anyway, so if a programme is bad or just plain boring, his mind goes blank or he falls asleep. So, the goggle box is doing him some good. But on the other hand, he sets his lively mind to work by doing crosswords, and he’s pretty quick too.

“For some reason, he figures his lucky number is seven, but I’ve never seen it work for him. Steve likes the colour blue, to match his eyes, and would like to have tons of money because he hasn’t found a single advantage in being broke. He’s not alone in that. He says his ambition is to go into record production, but to tell the truth I can’t see him being one hundred per cent happy a back-room boy.

“It would be a matter of months before he missed the applause and the audiences. Steve is a natural show-off, and I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

What does Brian have to say about Andy Scott?

“Andrew David Scott is our great lead guitarist and as you might guess from his middle name, he’s Welsh. Andy was born in Wrexham in North Wales ten inches tall and topped the scale at exactly ten stone before his Sunday lunch!

“Andy has only ever had one ambition and that was to get to the top in his career, and we’re knocked out for him that he’s enjoying a great run because he’s had one or two disappointments along the way. In 1966, he joined a new group called Silverstone and was successful at an audition for TV’s Opportunity Knocks. They were so good they appeared on the show six times.

“Sadly, nothing much went right for them after that, and Andy and his brother joined a singer called Gus Eadon to form The Elastic Band. Then, as they were beginning to get somewhere, Steve Ellis left Love Affair and Gus was chosen as his replacement. The Scott brothers were then joined by a pianist and for six months they backed [The] Scaffold.

“Andy’s next big chance came with Mayfield’s Mule. There was a lot of talent and money in and behind the group, yet still they failed to make it. From there, Andy joined us, and it’s been up-hill all the way. He likes modern jazz and groups like Deep Purple. His favourite [illegible] folk include Gene Hackman, Richard Roundtree [?] and Glenda Jackson.

“He’s the real soccer nut in the band, and Andy’s ambition is to fly a plane single-handed. Unless he promises to use his other hand as well, we’re sticking to the train!”

Brian didn’t know we wanted him to talk about himself as well, but after a bit of gentle persuasion and a threat to let Mick do the job for him, he relented.

“Bit embarrassing, this,” he began. “You probably know I was born in Hamilton, outside Glasgow in Scotland on October 5, 1949 [1945 actually], came to London when I was 12 and the same year made my television debut on The Carroll Levis Talent Show for kids. I was always interested in music, especially when rock ‘n’ roll came along, but I doubted my ability to make a successful career out of it.

“I then had a spell in the Merchant Navy because I thought I would like the life and see the world. All I saw were harbour towns in the east of England. Anyway, I played with a few groups before meeting up with Mick in Wainwright’s Gentlemen and going on to form The Sweet with him.

“I’m five feet eight inches tall, weigh just over nine and a half stone, and have blue eyes and blonde hair. My favourite color is purple, and lucky number [is] five although I couldn’t give you a logical reason why. I enjoy target shooting, playing records and talking to people with bags of personality.

“I suppose I’m even-tempered, but I feel sorry for the people who do feel the lash of my tongue when that temper goes. I show no mercy! I don’t have many close friends, just the group, my family, and one or two people not connected with the business. All in all, I love my work and still can’t get over the fantastic success we’re enjoying.”

#articles #Brian Connolly #Sweet

7 notes · View notes

calligraphist-artemisia · 3 years

Text

Scattered Blue (Part 1)

Written for the Kidge Spring Event!

Prompt 3: Forget-me-nots | True Love, Memories, Remembrance

Summary: Alternate Universe. From the moment the first blue petal passed her lips, Pidge knew what was happening to her.

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

Part One: Pidge

The small blue petal haunted her from the time she woke up to the time she laid her head down to go back to sleep. There was a part of her that desperately wanted to ignore it and what it meant, hoping it would go away if she just wished hard enough for it.

But as with all things in life, wishing did nothing without her also taking action.

Pidge covered her mouth as she coughed hard, feeling something slide up through her throat until it splattered out into her hand. She caught a glimpse of blue as she shoved that hand into her pocket to hide the evidence.

“Is everything okay?” Hunk asked in concern. He and Lance sat across from her at the cafe table they'd snagged for their weekly lunch.

“Everything's great!” she lied with a smile. “How was your flight, Lance? You transported some heavy cargo to the east coast base, right?”

Lance shrugged. “It was just a normal, boring flight. No issues.”

“Which is a good thing,” Hunk said, his tone long-suffering.

Lance agreed with a grumble that spoke strongly of his true feelings. He'd always dreamed of being more than a “simple” cargo pilot, no matter how often Pidge and Hunk tried to remind him that he was the backbone of the Garrison and served a pivotal role in keeping everything running smoothly.

“What about you?” Hunk asked Pidge. “You and Keith have been testing the new jets. That must be fun.”

Pidge's heart fluttered at the mention of Keith's name and she swallowed to try and stop the cough that threatened to overtake her. “Um, y-yeah. Yeah, it's been a ton of fun.”

Hunk and Lance exchanged alarmed looks at her unusually lackluster response and Pidge wanted to swear, but instead, she reached for her water and took several swallows until her throat was clear.

“Keith giving you problems? I could kick his butt for you,” Lance volunteered.

“We're fine, so please don't get yourself suspended trying to fight him,” Pidge said with a roll of her eyes. She set down her drink. “Our test flight went great! We're just waiting for the technical report to come back before we can go up again and there were a few minor tweaks the ground crew wanted to make to improve how responsive the controls are. Shiro's been coaching us through new drills while we wait.”

“Ugh, you're so lucky. You get Shiro as a mentor and you get to test fly the new jets. Can we trade lives for one day?” Lance asked.

“That means you'd have to work with Keith,” Pidge reminded him.

“Good point. I'd much rather trade with Keith and have you as my partner,” Lance said, sitting back in his chair as the waitress arrived with their meals.

Pidge rolled her eyes as he went about his usual routine of flirting with their waitress. She briefly considered apologizing on his behalf but figured it would only encourage him to keep going. At least he wasn't making a complete fool of himself and thus, by extension, of her and Hunk as well.

They didn't do much talking as they enjoyed their food and it was only as they got down to the last few bites and were contemplating dessert that Pidge asked Hunk how he was doing in the engineering department. His eyes lit up as he began describing their experiments with a new lightspeed engine that they hoped would be capable of drastically reducing the amount of time it took to get to the farthest planets in their solar system.

“Pretty soon you and Keith will be preparing to fly one of these! Well, uh, if everything goes the way we hope,” Hunk said, rapidly backpedaling in an attempt to curb his own enthusiasm.

“That sounds incredible, Hunk! You'll have to keep me updated,” Pidge said.

Hunk grinned back at her. “I will.”

In the end, they decided against ordering dessert at the cafe and instead walked a few blocks down to Lance's favorite gelato place where they each got a scoop in a little paper cup so they could walk and eat at the same time.

Every now and then, Pidge had to turn away and cough, though thankfully she didn't end up with any fresh petals. For the rest of the night, she didn't find a single speck of blue when she pulled her hand away and she went to bed with a smile on her face and no worry lingering in her mind.

She danced around her room with a spring in her step when morning came, taking a little extra time on her hair and putting a little bit of color on her eyelids, which she normally saved for special occasions. By some miracle, she didn't drip any of her breakfast onto her uniform and was able to leave the house soon after by catching a ride with her brother, who was also on his way to the Galaxy Garrison.

They split up after he parked in the Garrison's garage, with Matt heading over to the labs where they were analyzing new plugs taken from Saturn's moon, Enceladus, while Pidge went to the gym to meet up with her flight partner and get started on their training for the day.

Keith was already there warming up when she arrived. His black hair was tied back out of his face and he had swapped out of the heavy uniform in favor of a pair of gray shorts and a black tank top.

Pidge caught his attention with a wave before gesturing towards the locker room, silently indicating that she was going to get changed and would be out soon. Once she was dressed in her own gray shorts and Garrison-provided orange shirt she jogged out to Keith, dodging around the others who were taking advantage of the open gym.

“Hey, did you get the itinerary Shiro sent?” Keith asked the moment she was close enough to be heard.

Pidge had to take a moment to think about it. She's woken up to two messages from Shiro that morning – one was a note regarding a slight change in their schedule and the other was a list of what they'd be covering that week. She assumed he was talking about the week-long one. “I glanced it over. It looks like it's mostly what we do every week.”

“Yeah, except for Friday. Do you think I can convince Shiro to give me a pass to skip out on the annual health screening after what they pulled last year?” Keith asked.

“Doubt it, though I bet he'd go with you if you're really worried about it,” Pidge said as dread began to creep in her chest.

At their last screening, the nurse helping Keith found something “odd” in his blood and ordered him into quarantine for two weeks while they tried to puzzle it out. The Garrison medical team ran test after test, asking Keith all kinds of invasive questions, until Shiro, with the help of Commander Iverson, put an end to it all. Keith was let go, but he then had to suffer through several months of resurgent rumors about his parentage and whether or not his abilities were because he wasn't fully human.

Keith was anti-social and a little awkward, which when coupled with his innate sense of how to pilot and the fact that he out-flew even seasoned pilots on the simulator on his first try, led to a number of rumors that one of his parents weren't human or even that Keith himself was born somewhere far beyond their solar system. It was all nonsense, of course.

Pidge had her own reasons for being worried about the screening. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they would find out about her affliction.

Hanahaki.

Just putting a name to it made it feel all the more real and terrifying.

“Hey,” Keith said, nudging her gently. “It'll be alright. I'm really not worried about anything happening again this year. They wouldn't dare.”

Pidge did her best to smile and try to reassure him that she'd also be there to stop them if they tried anything, but the weight of what was happening to her dragged her down, threatening to drown her if she didn't wrestle back control of her emotions. Her breath stuttered in her chest, a cough building even as she cleared her throat to try and chase it off. Her eyes watered.

“Pidge?” Keith's tone turned concerned and he placed one hand on her back to keep her steady.

She couldn't hold it back any longer.

Once her coughing started, it was nearly impossible to stop as something thick and slightly scratched traveled up through her throat, threatening to block her breathing, until it finally began to slide out. Pidge gagged and coughed even harder, forcing a long stem and the accompanying blooms out of her mouth and into her hands.

All she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat. Dark spots danced across her vision and she swayed, nominally aware of Keith holding her up. Pidge closed her eyes.

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

She woke in the medical wing.

Or at least, she thought that was where she was at first glance, but closer inspection of the wall next to her and the lack of orange décor told her that she was most likely at the Plaht City Memorial Hospital. Pidge stared at the wall for a moment and then slowly, stiffly turned her head to look around the room, which was when she realized Keith was sitting at her bedside and staring at her with a worried expression on his face.

“Wh... what happened?” Pidge groggily asked.

“You passed out,” Keith told her. “Pidge, why didn't you say anything sooner?”

She looked away from him. “Didn't want to. S'fine, Keith. I can handle it.”

“You can handle it? Pidge, this isn't going to go away on its own!” Keith's voice raised to a near shout. He blanched and ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to calm down. “You... Will you at least tell me who it is? I could go get them and... and then everything would be fine, right? Unless... you've already told them?”

Pidge swallowed thickly and glanced to the bedside table, hoping to see a glass of water there, but there was nothing. “It doesn't matter.”

“Of course it matters!”

“They don't feel the same way,” Pidge said, refusing to meet his eyes. “I don't need to ask them in order to know that.”

Keith growled in frustration and stood up. “I don't buy that for a second! Who wouldn't like you?”

“Keith...”

“Just tell me who it is and I'll go talk to them,” he said fiercely. “Or I'll bring them here, whichever works best for you. Please, Pidge, I just want to help. You're my best friend.”

Her chest clenched painfully at those words and Pidge wondered for a moment if she were about to be launched into another coughing fit, but after a moment or two, the pain subsided to mere discomfort, which allowed her to speak again.

Not that she really wanted to speak, since that meant revealing the truth: she was in love with him.

That was the cause of the Hanahaki Disease. Flowers would take root in the lungs, growing until there was no place left for them to go. The body naturally tried to rid itself of the invasion by coughing them up but there was only so long that could keep the disease at bay before it became too much for the body to handle. Sometimes, the person afflicted could “cure” themselves by falling out of love before the disease progressed too far. Otherwise, there were three ways it could end: in the death of the infected, by surgical removal, or by having their love reciprocated.

The last of those was the best-case scenario – the one that was often used in the plots of movies or cheesy romance novels. Having one's love returned would effectively shrink the flowers until they were gone completely.

Surgery was a more recent option, though one that some still chose to reject even if it meant their death. Choosing to surgically remove the flowers meant also removing any feelings they had for that person and often resulted in the complete loss of memory of them as well. No one could pinpoint why it was like that and all attempts to improve on the surgery fell flat.

Those were the options sitting before Pidge.

She didn't want to die. That much was for certain. There was still so much she wanted to see and do in the world, and though it broke her heart to think of needing to do it all without Keith, her partner, steadfast by her side, she wasn't going to give it all up. Besides, there was still the chance that she wouldn't forget about him. She was too stubborn for that. And if she could remember, maybe they could rebuild their friendship as well.

But what if she didn't remember?

Pidge slowly met his eyes.

He was her best friend too; the first person her own age that she'd ever truly gotten along with and felt comfortable around. Life without him wouldn't be nearly as vibrant. She couldn't lose him.

“Don't leave me,” she begged, her chest constricting as she forced the words out. She tried to sit up, her arms trembling from the effort, but gave up as Keith moved to help her. She shook her head and blinked back tears as she caught a whiff of his cologne, which usually inspired warm and fuzzy feelings, but instead dredged up an intense need to cough.

She swallowed, trying to force it away. She needed to talk first.

“Of course I'm not going to leave,” Keith tried to reassure her.

Pidge shook her head. “If... If I forget you, please don't leave me.”

Keith made a confused sound. “Why would you forget...?”

She could hear the exact moment he put the pieces together. The way his voice cracked was a dead giveaway just before his expression crumbled in distress. She reached out and grasped his hand. “It's okay, Keith. I know.”

He sucked in a shuddering breath. “It's not okay! Pidge, I-”

“You're not allowed to blame yourself,” she cut in. “This isn't your fault. You can't help who you like. Or who you don't like.”

While it wasn't something they'd exclusively talked about, she'd gotten the gist from past conversations that he wasn't someone interested in any kind of romance. He preferred focusing on his career and studies, which was something they'd always had in common right up until she went and fell for him.

She had to look away from him for a moment. “It's just... you're my best friend too and I don't want to forget that, but if I do then I need you to be there and make sure we stick together. I know that's a lot to ask.”

“No, it isn't,” Keith heatedly denied. “Of course I'll stay with you.”

Though Pidge mostly felt relieved by his agreeing to stay with her, there was still that sliver of worry that things could go wrong for them. But what choice did they really have?

She was saved from needing to talk about it more by the arrival of Shiro and her family, who crowded around her bed to ask if she was alright and if there was anything they could do to help. Matt seemed particularly stricken that he hadn't noticed anything wrong when he spent the most time with her, though her mom was a close second.

Once he was sure Pidge would be okay, her dad took charge of the situation and arranged for her surgery to take place that evening by calling on a few favors and using his influence as a Commander at the Galaxy Garrison. It took a little more convincing on Pidge's part, as well as some hefty backup from Shiro, to make an allowance for Keith to stay with her outside of surgery. It all happened so fast that she didn't have time to think about everything else she wanted to say to Keith, just in case she wouldn't get the chance later.

Her family stayed until the last few minutes until Shiro was able to direct them out into the waiting room so she and Keith could have one last moment alone.

And it was in those last few minutes that genuine fear struck Pidge.

She didn't want to forget him.

She didn't want to lose his friendship.

Heavy tears flooded her eyes, dripping down her cheeks without her fully realizing it. She choked back a sob as she looked at Keith. “I-I-...”

She couldn't get the words out.

Keith didn't need her to say anything. He got up so he could sit on the edge of her bed instead, cradling her against him and offering physical comfort. He refused to budge as the anesthesiologist entered and began prepping her arm for the IV which would administer the anesthetic directly into her bloodstream.

“Count backward from one-hundred, dear.”

Pidge tried, but she was still too choked up to speak and had to settle for mouthing it instead. Rather quickly, Keith's soft reassurances faded and she dropped off to sleep.

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

There was an annoying beeping sound that cut through her dreams, dragging Pidge back into the realm of consciousness. It was a strange, rhythmic sound – wholly different from the obnoxious screeching of her alarm clock. She groaned as she opened her eyes and had to squint against the sudden, harsh light that reflected off of crisp white sheets and plain white walls. The only spot of color near her was a single stem of purplish flowers that was placed in a water glass on the bedside table.

“Pidge?” an unfamiliar voice called her name, relief present in their tone.

Her head felt heavy as she turned it to face whoever was speaking to her. She figured it was a nurse or something – she had to be in a hospital of some kind – but instead, she found a young man with dark hair sitting in a chair at her bedside.

“You're awake!” he said, a smile blossoming across his face. “How do you feel?”

“M'okay,” she said thickly. She stared at him for a moment and watched as his smile faded. “Sorry, but who are you?”

He reeled back as though he'd been slapped, his expression dropping into something close to pure anguish. “I...” He paused and took a deep breath. “I'm Keith.”

#voltron #kidge #kidgemas #kidge spring event 2021 #fanfiction #hanahaki disease #there will be a part 2

19 notes · View notes

commanderrivercc-3628 · 4 years

Text

Rose Petal: Chapter 2

Previous : Next

pairing: Wolffe x fem!Reader

warnings: cursing, insecurity, FLUFF, angst, Wolffe being a good dad, mentions of not getting an abortion (IMPLIED, THE WORD IS NOT ACTUALLY USED)

word count: 2,188

notes: So I originally was going to post this Tuesday, but I finished it early and felt like posting it early so here it is... I hope you enjoy!!!

tags: @catsnkooks, @queenchaos-5

You gently rock Rose in your arms as you sat in the chair behind your desk. You looked to Wolffe, who was still sleeping peacefully on your bed. He was still in his civvies (a tight-fitting grey shirt, and a pair of dark jeans) that he had worn to the hospital when Sera went into labor. You were glad the 104th was on leave because it gave you and Wolffe more time to figure out what to do about Rose, seeing as Sera just abandoned Rose and Wolffe. You knew he’d never give her up, so that made things a bit more difficult seeing as it was illegal for him to have a child.

You looked back down at the baby and smiled sweetly at her. Rose was awake, which you didn’t figure was an issue. She looked up at you, lifted her hand, and made a grabbing gesture at you. You place your hand in front of Rose and she grabbed hold of your pointer finger. You silently giggled at the girl. As you looked at her you realized just how much she looked like Wolffe. Rose had his beautiful golden brown eyes and his dark tan skin. She was born with a full head of his black hair. The only thing she didn’t seem to inherit from Wolffe was her nose, which was a cute little button.

You sighed, thinking about how you and Wolffe were going to go about this. You promised to watch Rose when Wolffe couldn’t, and you would. But you couldn’t watch her all the time. More specifically when you had to tend to injured men.

‘I can’t just put the baby in a baby carrier and carry her around as I tend to the men. That’s not safe for them, nor is it safe for Rose.’ You thought.

You also thought about where she would sleep. Wolffe had his own private quarters, which helped that situation. There wasn’t that much space but you figured you could a least fit a crib in there. If not, you could try to convince Wolffe to switch quarters with you. Yours was significantly larger, which you didn’t find fair at all. If Wolffe did swap rooms with you he could fit a lot more that he’d need in there.

‘Yeah, that could work.’ You thought. ‘Though I doubt Wolffe would be okay with it. He’d probably just feel bad for taking my room.’

Now food, diapers, and clothes for little Rose. That was going to be more difficult. Campaigns can last weeks, months even. You groaned.

‘This is going to be harder than I thought.’

“(Y/N)?”

You looked up to see Wolffe getting up and sitting on the edge of the bunk. He yawned and stretched, the muscles in his arms and torso flexed. You caught yourself staring, but quickly blinked to push away any unwanted thoughts. Wolffe was your best friend, nothing more. Yeah sure you may have been in love with the clone commander, but you valued your friendship with him too much to ever act upon those feelings.

“Good morning Wolffe,” you said with a smile.

“Mornin’,” Wolffe smiled.

He stood up and walked over to you. Wolffe didn’t waste any time taking Rose from you, cradling her gently in his arms, it was as if the four hours of sleep he got were too many to be apart from his daughter. Wolffe lowered his head, gently placing his forehead on Rose’s. You smiled at the touching scene.

“So, we have a lot to figure out.” You began.

“I know,” Wolffe sighed. “First we should probably figure out food for Rose. She’ll probably be wanting something to eat soon.”

“The field medics have formula and diapers for a situation where they run into a civilian who needs them. I know where it is, I can go get some of both and meet you in the barracks.”

Wolffe’s brows furrowed.

“Why would we meet in the barracks? Couldn’t I just go with you to the medbay?” Wolffe inquired.

“Wolffe, you’re going to have to tell your brothers about Rose eventually.”

“I know, but what are they going to think of me. I’m their CO, I’m supposed to be smarter than accidentally getting someone pregnant, someone I never even loved. Hell, I felt so little towards her I didn’t even tell the boys who she was, they knew I was in a relationship, but they never even knew her name. Then I went and messed everything up. I got her pregnant, and I don’t even know how it could have happened. They’re going to think I’m a di’kut. A horny shiny who can’t keep it in his blacks.”

“Sera, we need to talk.”

“Yes, Wolffe we do.”

“You want to go first then, Sera?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Wolffe’s eyes doubled in size. His jaw dropped. He didn’t say anything for a while. Sera had yet to say anything else. She just stood there with a blank expression. Wolffe finally spoke.

“That’s, uh, that’s… you’re pregnant?”

“Yes, that is what I said. I have proof of that as well from my doctor if you don’t believe me.” Sera spat out.

“No! No, I-I believe you. I’m just shocked. I mean you’re on birth control. You went on it because you didn’t want to use biosheaths anymore. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“Well, it did,” Sera replied coldly.

‘But how?’ Wolffe thought.

“Wh-What do you want to do?” Wolffe asked.

“As much as I am not ready to have a child at the moment, I won’t get rid of the baby.”

Wolffe nodded. He was relieved to hear she was going to have the baby. As much as it scared him, he did want the baby. His baby. As much as he disliked Sera, he would stay with her. Not for Sera, but for his unborn child.

“I will be there as much as I can, Sera. I-I promise. I’ll be there for… you.”

You stared at Wolffe. Sure he had shown his more emotional side to you before, but never to this extent. You never knew Wolffe to be this insecure. The last time you saw him like this was when he lost his eye. He was downright scared then, and you couldn’t help but think he was scared now too. You were concerned about Sera getting pregnant despite being on birth control, but that wasn’t something the two of you should be talking about right now.

“Wolffe, they won’t think any less of you,” you started, drawing a scoff out of Wolffe. “I’m being serious, Wolffe. They aren’t going to see you as a horny shiny who can’t keep it in his pants. They’re going to see a dedicated father who would do anything for his daughter. They’re going to see their amazing brother who would do anything to keep them safe. Sure they might be a little upset you didn’t tell them sooner, but they won’t think any less of you.”

Wolffe didn’t say anything. He didn’t know why, but he believed you. Maybe it was the fact that he was deeply in love with you, but he would believe anything you told him.

“Thank you, (Y/N). I really don’t know what else to say. And I understand that I need to tell my brothers about Rose, but I’d much rather her eat first before we handle that. Plus I need caf.”

You nodded. You understood.

“Let me take a shower and get changed real quick. Feel free to use my caf maker.” You said, standing up and making your way into the refresher that was connected to your quarters.

Wolffe nodded and went to the caf maker. He turned the caf maker on and placed a mug under it, while carefully holding Rose. While waiting for the caf to be done he turned his attention back to Rose. He placed his hand on her belly and began tickling her. Rose giggled in delight and gave him a big toothless smile. He giggled along with her. Wolffe was so caught up in the cuteness that was his daughter that he didn’t notice you exiting the refresher.

“This is a good look for you Wolffe.” You smirked.

He quickly looked up at you, a scowl forming on his face.

“Shut up,” Wolffe growled out, grabbing cup of caf before making his way to the door. “Are you ready now?”

You rolled your eyes.

‘And the commander is back.’ You thought.

You made your way out of the room and down the corridor with Wolffe walking slightly in front of you. The halls were empty, seeing as no one really had anything to do other than to rest. It was the one time the troopers were actually allowed to sleep in, and they took advantage of that.

Your walk with Wolffe was quiet. The silence continued as they reached the medbay. Wolffe sat on one of the beds with Rose still in his arms, sipping on his caf, and you went into one of the storage rooms. You picked up a box and grabbed some diapers and formula. The formula was luckily water-activated, so you wouldn’t have to figure out where to find milk. You were just finishing packing the small box of supplies for Wolffe when you heard loud crying. You walked out of the closet to see a very panicked Wolffe and a very upset Rose. As you approached the pair, Wolffe looked up at you.

“I-I don’t know what happened. Sh-she was fine a second ago.” Wolffe panicked.

“Well, she’s most likely either hungry or went potty. So, unwrap her from the blanket and check her diaper.”

Wolffe got off the bed, then gently placed the crying baby back on the bed, carefully unwrapping the blanket around her. Wolffe took her out of her light pink onesie and moved to check her diaper and grimaced.

“It’s the diaper,” Wolffe said.

You nodded and told him to take the diaper off. Then, you set the box down and went to grab a cloth and wet it with warm water. You handed it to Wolffe, who took it and raised a brow. You rolled your eyes.

“You have to clean her, Wolffe. Use the cloth and wipe her.”

Wolffe groaned, but did as you instructed. Once he was done, he set the cloth down and looked back to you. You grabbed a diaper and stepped up next to Wolffe, and handed him the diaper. He took it and you began explaining how to put the diaper on Rose. Wolffe was able to successfully put the diaper on the first try, much to your surprise. When you tell him he did it correctly, a triumphant smirk appears on his face. You laughed quietly at how proud of himself he was. He made a face at you before looking back to his daughter, who was delightfully sticking her foot in her mouth. Wolffe smiled fondly and gently pulled her foot out of her mouth. You giggle at the sight. Wolffe put Rose back in her onesie and picked her up.

“So, what next?” He asked you.

“Well, I’d say let’s get Rose something to eat.”

Wolffe nodded in confirmation and you walked him through the steps of mixing the formula. After all that was done, she taught him how to clean the bottle. Wolffe picked up Rose and fed her. Then you taught him how to burp her, telling him to put a towel on his shoulder because babies often spit it back up, which Rose did. Wolffe cleaned her face, then pressed a light kiss to the tip of her nose.

“The men will be waking up soon,” Wolffe sighed. “I guess now’s as good a time as any.”

Wolffe looked concerned. You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up at you. You gave him a soft smile, which he returned.

“It’ll be ok, but good luck anyway.”

“Wait, aren’t you coming with me?” Wolffe panicked.

“You’re a big boy, Wolffe, you can handle yourself. Besides this is more of a brother to brothers thing.”

Wolffe sighed and nodded before turning to leave the medbay. He clung tighter to his daughter to help ground himself. He made his way to the barracks trying to figure out what to say.

‘Men this is Rose, she’s my daughter and… no. Troopers, this is my daughter, her name is Rose… no.’

Wolffe groaned.

“How are we going to do this, huh?” He asked the baby, who tilted her head slightly in response.

Wolffe had been so lost in thought he hadn’t realized he was already outside the barracks. He stood outside the door, unable to move to enter. He could hear the laughter of his brothers on the other side of the door. Suddenly the doors to the barracks slid open, revealing Boost, Sinker, and Comet. Wolffe’s eyes went wide. The three brothers stopped at the sight of their commander and instantly stood straighter. Comet noticed the baby first and quickly spoke up about her.

“Uh, Wolffe? Why do you have a baby?”

#commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #commander wolffe #wolffe x reader #wolffe x you #wolffe #clone wars x reader #rose petal fic #wolffe learning how to be a dad #wolffe is the best dad #sinker #boost #clone trooper comet

72 notes · View notes

tigerkirby215 · 3 years

Text

5e Braum, the Heart of the Freljord build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Joshua “HUGEnFAST” Brian Smith. Made for Riot Games.)

Mother always said: STAND BEHIND BRAUM.

Braum is a character who was rather inevitable. He’s iconic in his own right as he’s probably the ultimate shield-baring team defender, which is an obvious fantasy people would want in D&D. (Which is why we have no tower shields in 5e.) With K/DA done I now have to do the Ruined King crew. But I’m more than happy to make a build for another Support who I’m never upset to have on my team. Even if he’s not the strongest right now you can always count on Braum!

GOALS

My shield is my sword - Braum is a big bulky lad with an even bigger and bulkier shield. We’ll need to take any blow that comes our way.

Stand behind Braum! - We’ll need to be able to protect our allies near or far, standing in front of danger and jumping to their aid.

Troublemaker toss is best game - Braum can do more than just punch and slam, with a bit of Freljordian magic to split the earth beneath his foes!

RACE

Braum is a human and hey: wouldn’t it be funny if there was a race of humans with innate Iceborn magic to protect their allies? Mark of Sentinel Humans get ability score improvements that don’t really help us... good thing Tasha’s lets us instead get a +2 to Charisma and a +1 to Strength, for the might of Winter and the warmth of the Hearth. You gain proficiency in a language of your choice: I personally opted for Primordial to speak with any icy beings of the north.

With the Mark of Sentinel you have Sentinel’s Intuition to add a d4 to Insight and Perception checks. You also have a Guardian’s Shield to cast Shield on yourself once per Long Rest, and are a Vigilant Guardian who can swap places with a nearby creature to take the damage instead of them! “It is easy, see?”

If Dragonmarks aren’t allowed: Variant Human works fine. Increase your Charisma and Strength by 1 and grab the Shield Master feat early. Grab Insight proficiency too or something idk.

ABILITY SCORES

15; STRENGTH - To lift up Ornn’s workshop door you need a lot of upper body strength.

14; CHARISMA - To be the heart of the Freljord you need heart to provide warmth through the cold.

13; CONSTITUTION - Braum is a tank support, so of course you need to be tanky.

12; DEXTERITY - You need to be rather limber to jump to your allies. This will also give a decent boost to your AC if you wear Medium Armor.

10; WISDOM - Braum learnt a lot about nature and people from his mother’s teachings.

8; INTELLIGENCE - No offence to Braum: we simply need everything else more and we’ve gotta dump something.

BACKGROUND

People tell legends of Braum, as if he was a Folk Hero... for that’s what he is! As a Folk Hero you get proficiency with Animal Handling to take care of Poros, and Survival to survive the harsh North. You also get proficiency with Land Vehicles and an Artisan’s Tool of your choice. Just about any of them could be reasonable for Braum, so pick whatever will make you the most friends!

Your background feature Rustic Hospitality will make sure you’re always welcome by a warm hearth. You can find a place to rest and recuperate among commoners as long as you’re nice. They will hide you from anyone searching for you, though they will not risk their lives for you.

(Artwork by Charles “Yideth” Liu. Made for Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - FIGHTER 1

The Freljord is a place for battle, and also a place where we can wear either Medium or Heavy Armor based on your choice of skin.

I’m going to just put this comment here: Braum isn’t going to get Barbarian levels because like half his skins have him wear armor. Also you can’t cast spells while Raging, and “Rage” just feels wrong for Braum. I’d argue that Braum being unarmored is a Magic Item (IE Tattoos.) Feel free to wear Medium Armor to be more in-character, but there’s little reason not to slap on Plate.

As a Fighter you get proficiency in two skills from the Fighter list: Athletics will help you jump over to your allies and Insight will let you tell if your new friend is actually friendly.

Fighters get their Fighting Style at level 1 and while there are a lot of nice ones (especially thanks to a nice witch named Tasha) we’re going to go for the classic of Defense to tank any incoming blow.

We’re not taking Protection, Interception, or Unarmed Fighting because of abilities we’re going to be getting later. Also I’d argue that a Shield would count as “Armor” for being Armored with the Defense Fighting Style.

You also get Second Wind to heal for a d10 plus your Fighter level, for some relief against the harsh winter winds.

LEVEL 2 - FIGHTER 2

Second level Fighters can push themselves a little for their friends. Action Surge lets you take an extra action for the turn!

LEVEL 3 - FIGHTER 3

3rd level Fighters get to choose their Martial Archetype, and for a Fighter who defends their allies and loves animals go for a Cavalier! You get a Bonus Proficiency to finally get Persuasion and be a hero who you’d love to sit down and chat with over a cup of warm milk! You also have Born to the Saddle for some help if you ever try boar riding with Sejuani.

But the main reason we went for Cavalier is Unwavering Mark. When you hit an enemy with a melee weapon attack, you can mark the creature until the end of your next turn. While they’re within 5 feet of you, they have disadvantage on any attack roll that doesn’t target you.

Additionally, if the marked enemy deals damage to anyone other than you, you can make a special melee weapon attack against the marked creature as a bonus action on your next turn. You have advantage on the attack roll, and if it hits, the attack’s weapon deals extra damage to the target equal to half your fighter level. You can mark any number of enemies you want, but you can only use your special attack a number of times equal to your Strength modifier, regaining all uses after a Long Rest.

In short: hit your enemy with a Concussive Blow to make it harder for them to hit your allies, and hit them harder if they still do!

LEVEL 4 - FIGHTER 4

4th level Fighters get an Ability Score Improvement, but how about we prepare for a fight without our shield? Tavern Brawler gives a +1 to Constitution along with proficiency with Improvised Weapons and a d4 Unarmed Strike. Additionally if you punch an enemy you can grapple them as a Bonus Action!

Even if you now have an Unarmed Strike there’s no reason why you can’t use a Bludgeoning damage weapon like a Warhammer and say that it’s your Fist.

(Artwork by Alvin Lee. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 5 - FIGHTER 5

5th level Fighters get an Extra Attack, for two punches (IE Warhammer hits) in a turn! Remember that you can still only have one enemy marked though!

LEVEL 6 - FIGHTER 6

6th level Fighters get more Ability Score Improvements. Aren’t uneven ability scores fun? Crusher is a feat that gives +1 to Strength but also lets you get some effects of your Concussive Blows: moving enemies around when you hit them with bludgeoning damage and softening them up quite a bit if you happen to crit!

LEVEL 7 - FIGHTER 7

7th level Cavaliers can make sure that their allies stand behind them for a Warding Manuever. If a creature you can see within 5 feet of you (including yourself!) is hit by an attack, you can roll 1d8 as a reaction to block it with your shield (or your weapon.) Roll the die, and add the number rolled to the target’s AC against that attack. If the attack still hits, the target has resistance against the attack’s damage.

You can do this a number of times equal to your Constitution modifier, and regain all expended uses of it when you finish a long rest. This does unfortunately mean that you’re probably going to be stuck with two uses of your actual “defensive” ability unless your DM provides you with some more Constitution. Or if you got lucky with stat rolls. "Sometimes icy heart just needs warm smile."

LEVEL 8 - FIGHTER 8

8th level Fighters get another Ability Score Improvement: make your Strength even again with a +1, and also put a little bit in Charisma.

(Artwork by Kelly Aleshire. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 9 - BARD 1

What? Did you think that Charisma was just so you could be nice? To get some Iceborn Magic we’ll be getting some Bard levels! Multiclassing into Bard gives you a skill as well as an instrument. For your skill History is good to tell stories by the hearth, but feel free to take whatever skill your friends may need! For instrument Braum’s theme includes plenty, but there’s some strong Drums as well as a steady Lute.

As a Bard you can bolster your allies with Bardic Inspiration. As a Bonus Action you can give an ally a d6 to add to an Attack Roll, Skill Check, or Saving Throw as their good friend Braum boosts their confidence. And of course as a Bard you get Spellcasting! You learn 2 cantrips from the Bard list: Message is good to keep to teamchat, and Prestidigitation provides plenty of benefits that can help in the frozen north.

You also learn 4 spells from the Bard list: to bolster yourself or your allies for the task get ready for a bout of Heroism! If you want some good fun get your enemies to laugh along with Tasha’s Hideous Laughter! To make friends with Poros take Animal Friendship. And for a very weak Glacial Fissure Earth Tremor will do fine.

LEVEL 10 - BARD 2

Second level Bards can always help, being Jack of All Trades who can add half their proficiency to any skill they’re not proficient in. They’re also great around a campfire with a Song of Rest for a d6 of extra healing during Short Rests.

But of course Bards also get more spells: a good witch named Tasha gave Bards the Compelled Duel spell, letting them keep enemies close so friends can keep safe!

LEVEL 11 - BARD 3

Braum may not have gone to college but Bards get to choose their College at third level, and to have a true heart for battle you should look to join the College of Valor! Along with bonus proficiencies that don’t matter since you started as a Fighter You get Combat Inspiration to augment your Bardic Inspiration. Now your allies can apply some Concussive Blows and add their Inspiration to their damage, or become Unbreakable and add the Inspiration to their AC! This means that your allies can apply Inspiration to just about anything, and you can help them in whatever way’s needed!

You also get Expertise in two skills: Animal Handling will help you take care of Poros, and Athletics will let you make sure you’re always there for your friends. And to top it off you can now learn second level spells like Hold Person to stun with Winter’s Bite!

LEVEL 12 - BARD 4

4th level Bards get an Ability Score Improvement, but instead we’re going to get a bit more resilient with the Resilient feat for Charisma, of course! +1 to CHA and proficiency in saving throws to make sure you aren’t hit with any nasty banishing effects!

You also learn a new spell and a new cantrip! For your cantrip Mending will help you make sure there’s no rips in your outfit. As for spells Enlarge / Reduce was finally added to the Bard list (thank you Tasha!) which you can grab for an Elixir of Iron!

(Artwork by jorcerca on DeviantArt)

LEVEL 13 - BARD 5

5th level Bards get Font of Inspiration, allowing their Bardic Inspiration to come back on a Short Rest, which is nice because your Bardic Inspiration also increases to a d8.

You can also learn third level spells like Leomund’s Tiny Hut for a safe place to resist away from the harsh Freljordian nights.

LEVEL 14 - BARD 6

6th level Valor Bards get an Extra Attack... that you already have. At least you also get Countercharm, letting your allies have Advantage against Charms and Fears... if you use your Action to help them.

Well at least Slow (thank you Tasha) can be helpful to inflict the chill of winter on your enemies. "To friends, I am snowfall. To enemies, I am avalanche!"

LEVEL 15 - BARD 7

7th level Bards can learn 4th level spells like Hallucinatory Terrain, to bring the North wherever you go!

LEVEL 16 - BARD 8

8th level means more Ability Score Improvements... hey what if we got more Feats? Shield Master is an obvious choice for a man with a very big shield! You can push enemies over and block just about everything with that door of yours!

You can also increase the Confusion of your Concussive Blows with a 4th level spell, making enemies stumble around and have trouble approaching you and your enemies.

(Artwork by ONO-FIRE on DeviantArt)

LEVEL 17 - BARD 9

9th level Bards see their Song of Rest increase to a d8. Probably a bit late for this feature by total level 17. But at least you can learn 5th level spells like Hold Monster to stun any dragons you may be fighting!

LEVEL 18 - BARD 10

10th level Bards get Expertise in two more skills: Persuasion is good to make friends, and Insight is good to make sure they aren’t enemies! But feel free to choose whatever you think will be more practical.

You also get access to Magical Secrets: spells from any class’ spell list to add to your own. I’d suggest good ol’ Cone of Cold for a blast of harsh winter, but hold off on your other Magical Secret for one level. You can grab another cantrip though so perhaps put some Light on your wards.

LEVEL 19 - BARD 11

11th level Bards can learn 6th level spells but I’m actually going to suggest hopping back to 2nd level for Warding Bond to put a Knight’s Vow on your friends.

That’s because the Magical Secret we’re actually going to take is Gravity Fissure from the Wildemount Dunamancy list. It’s a big split in the earth that slows enemies down and does huge damage, much like a Glacial Fissure!

D&D Beyond Advice: Make a Homebrew version of Gravity Fissure as a Bard spell to take as your “Magical Secret.” IDK why D&D Beyond doesn’t let you take higher level spells with Magical Secrets.

LEVEL 20 - BARD 12

Our final level is the 12th level of Bard for one last Ability Score Improvement... Hey what if we got a feat instead to cap it off? Truthfully if you want to cap off at least one of your two main ability scores go ahead, but Inspiring Leader is also fun, useful, and flavorful. Alternatively the Tough feat can provide a big boost to your HP by the end of the build. Pick whatever you fancy, and whatever you think will help your friends the most!

FINAL BUILD

PROS

You are safe with Braum - While you’re perhaps not the biggest set of muscles out there you sure are a bulky lad, with some strong saving throws, good health, and nice AC boosted up with your shield.

You thought you were in trouble - It seems redundant to say but you are a master of protection, with thousands of ways (magical or otherwise) to keep your allies safe and your enemies at bay.

When going gets tough, you call Braum - Bard levels are quite helpful for making your character helpful! Jack of All Trades combined with Expertise in many a good skill means that even if you just need to help around the house you can still make yourself useful.

CONS

Think carefully, my friend - While Bardic Inspirations and Second Wind come back on a Short Rest the rest of your abilities don’t. Limited spell slots and limited Cavalier features will quickly be exhausted over a long day.

First we fight, then we eat - Between Shield Master, Tavern Brawler, and Bardic Inspiration you have a few too many options for your Bonus Action. Honestly we could’ve easily skipped the Tavern Brawler feat in favor of more ASIs.

Keep your spirits high - Speaking of ASIs: the comedic amount of feats grabbed in this build means that while your Ability Scores are fine enough they are still a little lacking. Mediocre CON means few uses of Warding Maneuver, and having neither Charisma nor Strength maxed means that your Bard abilities and Fighter fighting could be better.

But you’re not here to win by yourself! Make friends, and help those friends become heroes of their own story! Braum can do a lot but it is only when you fight together that great tales can be told. Stories are shared among those closest to us, and legends are made when you overcome challenges as one. "Good times, good friends... what could be better?"

(Artwork by Xu “Crow God” Cheng. Made for Riot Games.)

#mother always said #STAND BEHIND BRAUM #dnd #dnd 5e #dnd build #dnd guide #dnd fighter #dnd bard #League of Legends #League of Legends Braum #braum #Braum LoL

30 notes · View notes

quietlyimplode · 4 years

Text

Whumptober2020 - Day 5 - Rescue

Tony/ Pepper + Clint/Nat

Day 1 - waking up restrained // Day 2 - kidnapped // Day 3 - manhandled // Day 4 - caged

“What if she’s not ok Tony?” Pepper says quietly. Pepper knows Natasha’s history more than most; disclosed to her through conversation and work. Tony only knows because he’s hacked all her files. Shield, the KGB, anything really he could get his hands on. He may know more about her history than she does. Not that he’ll ever tell her that. Natasha knows that he’s memorised all of her and somehow he’s not dead. Maybe it’s like having a witness; someone to see all your bad and all your scars and still treat you as human. Isn’t that all anyone wants?

“She’s always ok, Pep.” He says reassuringly. “She’s always ok,” but this time more to himself. Ending the call, he focuses on flying.

——-

The call comes through on his phone which, he chooses to ignore; he’s almost got it, he just needs to - if the damn thing won’t stop ringing. Sighing softly, Tony covers his ears and turns up the music outside. It’s rare for Clint to call him but he really hates answering the phone and does not want to hear what’s happening - not on his own terms at least. Let him leave a voice mail if it’s so urgent.

Continuing to focus on his build; Tony is blissful; for once competing priorities are at a low and he knows that he can dedicate his time to this, it’s something for him, and no one is going to-

“Tony?”

He feels his eyes roll to the back of his head. If he could, he would groan; but it’s Pepper and he respects her too much to tell her to go away. But he wants to; he really really wants to.

“Tony, it’s Clint.”

Pepper puts the phone on his table and puts it on speaker. Clint wastes no time.

“Natasha’s been kidnapped. She was taken off the roof of our hotel adjacent building. There was a struggle. I need your help. This is a secure line.”

Each sentence is like a blow.

He wants to ask Clint why he’s calling him. Why not go through the proper channels; though instinctively he knows why. He’s faster. He has way more of a chance of finding Natasha than any one else does - he has the tech and the ability to analyze quicker than any of them; and Clint knows it.

He starts hacking into their last mission debrief;

“Where are you?”

There’s a beat and Tony assumes Clint’s looking at the coordinates on his phone. Converting them quickly into a 3D model rendering he’s suddenly in Rabat, Morocco.

“Rabat? You’re in Rabat?” What the actual fuck. He saw the pair yesterday. Actually; was it yesterday? Maybe it was the day before. He forgets he loses time.. Maybe he needs a clock that sporadically says the date and time or he could program The Robot to do it. He does some quick calculations.

“That’s a 12 hour flight commercial, maybe 6 by quinjet, maybe 2 by suit. I’ll re-task one with medical now.”

Putting Clint on mute he looks towards Pepper who hasn’t left the spot she was standing in. She looks scared and worried and hasn’t moved an inch.

“Pepper?” Moving over to her, he tucks some loose hair behind her ear, “you with me?”

She gives a nod, “yeah.”

“Yeah?” He sees her try to swallow this down. He takes her hand. “I need your help. Will you be ok in the quinjet? We’ll need to pick them up once they’re safe.”

Pepper stands straighten herself and nods, confidently.

“I can do that, I’ll pick up the medical team on the way.”

She’s coming back to herself now. All business.

“Can you send the co-ordinates when you know them? The quicker I go, the quicker I get there.”

He’s shaken her loose now, Pepper knows there’s time for grief and worry and fear when this is over. Battle stations.

This isn’t the first time, he’s sure it won’t be the last. Today Natasha, tomorrow him. Who knows.

He does wish it wasn’t Natasha though and he knows it’s now personal for Pepper as well.

Their friendship borne of being in male dominated fields - a powerful alliance of friendship and knowledge.

Pepper sets off, transferring the call to Tony so she can make calls to the relevant authorities to land their jet in the airspace.

Tony unmutes Clint and turns back to the task at hand.

“I’m looking at satellite footage, when was she taken?”

The silence that hangs makes it clear that Clint doesn’t know.

“We got back to the hotel, ate and then she left for the scout point. She was on first watch. I think she has her earpiece in. Can you track that?”

Tony doesn’t even touch on the fact that Natasha and Clint wear Starktec earpieces in missions; and not the generic ones. Natasha must have hooked them up to the correct frequencies so that no one would be the wiser.

He types quickly, looking for the relevant frequencies and pings any radio waves off that one. He bypasses the ones that are in Spain and Portugal - whilst feasible she may have been taken there it’s more likely they kept her in country. Narrowing it down he finds a likely mark - it’s a weak signal but feels like it adds up.

“She’s about 21 miles from you, the earpiece is pinging from an importer warehouse.”

He checks his suit and calculates how quickly he can get there, maybe two hours at full speed? Grabbing a quick drink of water and granola bar he starts to head out, filling Clint in as he goes.

“I can meet you there but it’s going to take me around two hours flying at full speed; even if we get her the jets going to be 4 hours behind me. Do you have a plan?”

He waits for Clint to say anything and when he doesn’t he realises that Clint’s running on fumes.

“I’m on my way. Head to the warehouse; I know you are anyway, and I’ll meet you there. The warehouse is guarded - I would advise not to engage tactically it’d be better to have a diversion and get her out when attention is elsewhere.”

Tony is the the launch pad, pushing off he thinks out loud “Who are these guys?”

He has the warehouse on his holo, the warehouse is swarming. He wants to be clear to Clint that going in solo is suicide, Natasha appears to be in the bowels of the warehouse and he only knows that because the signal she gives off is so weak. Underground is the only thing that makes sense.

“Clint; so you know; they’re everywhere. If you can; wait for my signal. Get yourself in position I’ll be there as soon as I can, I’m swapping to your comms line now. The jets already left, Pepper is on board, and a med team”

He checks Pepper’s whereabouts, she’s done well to get out so quick.

“They’ll be there in just under 6 hours. We will have to get her out and get to the airport.”

Tony thinks for a minute. If they can get her location maybe they can talk to her.

“ Let’s try and get her on coms.. If she’s conscious…” he leaves that thought hanging.

He concentrates on the directions he’s getting and the trajectory path of New York to Morocco.

“Anyway. I’m now on comms, I’ll catch you soon bird boy. Hang tight.”

Tony disconnects.

He can zone out whilst flying but doesn’t; he calls Pepper to check in.

“You ok?” He opens, sending the airport coordinates to the quinjet.

Pepper answers with a yes, let’s him know she’s received the info and lets Dr Cho say hello. That’s good, Natasha likes (which may be a too strong a word) the good doctor. At least they have more of a chance of getting her stable and to a hospital should it be necessary. They’ve also picked up medical supplies and the jets stocked with some food and water.

“She’s always ok, Pep.” He says reassuringly. “She’s always ok,” but this time more to himself. Ending the call, he focuses on flying.

Clint contacts him to let him know he’s arrived. Checking the screen he lets Clint know he’s about 45 minutes out. He marks out Clint - knowing now where he is from the feedback of his earpiece and watches as he move around the warehouse. Less than ten minutes pass before he’s back to where he started. There’s static in his earbud and they’re just in time to hear Natasha yelling Clint’s name.

Tony double checks - Clint must have cleared up the frequencies. Clint's saying her name reverently but Tony needs to know what she knows; apparently though, Natasha knows less. She doesn’t sound good though. Her breath is hitching and there’s definitely something she’s not telling them.

“We’re coming for you,” he says; more to himself than to Natasha

He boosts his thrusters and tries to turn 30 minutes into 5. He’s twenty minutes away when it starts.

Screaming.

Natasha screaming. It is confronting and hurts him to his soul. His nightmares will have nightmares about this.

He sees Clint scrambling.

Fuck.

“Clint! Wait! Don’t go in!”

He gets it, he does, but there’s too many of them. He sets off two smaller missiles, targeted for the front of the building. He hopes the building has some sort of structural integrity that it doesn’t collapse on his team mates. He sends off another on to firework and draw fire. Natasha is still screaming and coughing and moaning. Sounds that no-one should be making. It’s going on too long. How many rounds of this were there for her?

And then there’s silence.

They’ve either injected her with something or killed her.

He pushes his body and his suit to get there faster, and upon arrival it’s a clean up mission. They don’t feel professional or well organised - but he draws more fire on arrival and takes a perverse pleasure in counting them out. He sees Clint arrive at Natasha; and almost feels that he shouldn’t be a part of this intimacy; this rawness.

Clint's trying to rouse her, he’s saying her name with tenderness, there’s nothing until…

Tony feels a bit like crying at whimper and moans that are coming from Natasha. It’s at odds with the woman who gives the best poker face; even when she’s stubbed her toe on the corner of a table or rocks up to debrief with a broken arm and a black eye like it’s nothing.

He lands close to the black car that Clint’s obviously stole, and waits for him to come out. Clint’s bundled Natasha in a blanket. Eyeballing her, she’s semi-conscious but not all there, he’s not even sure she’s aware that he’s there.

“I’ll meet you at the airport,” Clint acknowledges that he’s spoken and puts Natasha in the passenger seat.

Tony links in with Pepper who lets him know they’ll be there in less than an hour, thank god. He lets her know they’ve got Natasha but she’s in rough shape.

He’s waiting at the airport and greets the jet when it lands.

“They’ll be here soon.” He says by way of greeting.

Pepper nods. He acknowledges Dr Cho, and thanks her for coming.

Cho knows Natasha is a horrible patient, preferring to suffer in silence.

Tony could go a lifetime without Natasha being hurt and hearing those sounds ever again. He’s switched off the comms hearing Clint talk everything and nothing to keep Natasha awake.

They wait in relative silence. Tony watches them arrive and Pepper follows him out to greet them.

Clint is holding her and there’s blood everywhere. Pepper gasps audibly and heads back into the quinjet to find Dr Cho, they get her into the jet, and Tony helps straps Clint in - he goes to wrap it around Natasha as well but is stopped by the shake of a head.

“She needs to go to the hospital,” Tony says to no one in particular.

Cho is eyeballing Natasha from the side.

“Do you think she’ll let me look at her?”

They watch Natasha move and bury herself into Clint’s arms. They all hear her rattling breath.

“Clint,” Tony tries again, “medical are the only ones who can deal with all of this.”

He watches Natasha tremble in Clint’s arms and then as he brushes her hair away from her ear. He pretends not to hear Clint ask Natasha whether she wants to be sedated. The shake of her head cements her position in stone.

Tony looks to Cho, “anything you can do from here?”

Clint looks scandalous.

“Fuck off Tony, she said no.”

“She’s losing blood, Clint! She’s clearly got broken ribs, I can hear her breathing. Not to mention a concussion - and I can see the taser burns.”

Clint looks uncomfortable.

“She said no, Tony. I’m not going make her.”

Tony drops it. Sarcastically apologises to Cho for coming.

They’re about 3 hours in when Natasha starts to seize.

——-

Hopefully chuck this under a cut tomorrow. Tomorrow we continue from this one leaves off.

#whumptober2020 #no5 #rescue #no. 5 rescued #clintasha #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #hawkeye #tony stark #pepper potts #pepperony #marvel fic #fanfic #torture tw #medical cw

53 notes · View notes

personasintro · 4 years

Text

My Tiny Secret | 04; No Name

𝑴𝒚 𝑻𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆 | 04; No Name

⏤𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; Pretty face doesn’t make it up for an ugly personality. And Kim Seokjin is the perfect proof of that.

⏤𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: seokjin x reader

⏤𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: angst, smut

⏤𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: toxic relationship, mistress au, strong language

⏤> 𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒙

a/n: this drabble is inspired by one of the asks/requests I got

Anonymous said: Seokjin drabble about My Tiny Secret? Him visiting the baby for the first time at the hospital after birth?

You never liked hospitals. Maybe it’s the sanitary smell and white interior, connected with a feeling that someone’s sick, dying or long and almost endless waiting hours for appointments. But this time it’s different.

You actually feel happy to be in a hospital, your newborn baby was born just a few hours ago. Your heart is filled with happiness and excitement from the small bundle of joy. His puckered lips are still clearly engraved in your mind, ever since you’ve first seen him. Those lips are the most attentive feature on his small face, beside his black hair. You know he got it from his father, father you told yourself he doesn’t have.

This is for the best, you tell yourself everytime you have second thoughts. You’re easily remembered by the man’s cold personality and the fact, he’s actually married. You should’ve never got involved with him. You were stupid and naive to actually think, some part of him liked you. Fucking naive.

Hoseok:

I can’t wait to see the little guy!!!

You smile at Hoseok’s message.

Hoseok is such a good friend, probably someone you don’t deserve. He was there when you found out about your pregnancy, he was there holding you while you cried yourself to sleep. He was there to drive you to the hospital, while you almost cut off his blood pressure while holding his outstretched hand.

And he’s here, waiting for a few hours to meet your son. A baby who isn’t his, but he’s there for the both of you.

Standing up, you wince at the pain between your legs as you loudly curse. Thankfully, you’re alone in this hospital room but not for long once you hear a voice belonging to one of the nurses.

“Ma’am, where are you going?” she asks you, already running to you to hold you in case you’d fall.

Putting on your baby blue fluffy robe, you hide your large t-shirt underneath, which isn’t even yours. Hoseok gave it to you when you were pregnant, the stretchy material felt comfortable and cozy around your huge belly.

“My friend is waiting outside. He wants to see my son.” you tell her once you put your slippers on.

“I can show him. Are you sure you wanna come? You just gave birth.” she tells you and you wonder if you really look that bad.

Well, you feel like it. You just cried for ten minutes in the restroom, trying to pee.

You know she probably means the whole labor, knowing it was painful even though you were lucky enough to have epidural. Still, the aftermath hurts.

She slowly guides you out of the room, holding your forearm tightly as you wince every now and then. Your legs feel weak but you push it away, knowing Hoseok is waiting somewhere out there.

The nurse, which is in her late forties and probably has kids of her own, knows what you’ve been through because she’s very nice and gentle, making sure she slows down when you do.

“Is that your friend?” she suddenly asks, making you realize you got into hospital’s hallways.

Hoseok sits there, his elbows plopped on his knees as he stares into his phone with a slight scowl. You feel awful for making him wait so many hours. As if he could feel your eyes on him, he looks up from the phone immediately finding you. He sees you slowly walking towards him and he snaps out of the chair, almost dropping the huge bouquet of flowers which you notice this moment. There is a huge balloon saying ‘It’s a boy!’ and your eyes already fill with tears.

“Y/N?” he breathes out a chuckle, his own eyes tearing once he sees you pouting. You’re trying to hold the cries and he can see that, already knowing you.

“Hobi,” you whimper and he’s quick to run to you, taking you from nurse’s hold as he thanks her.

With a nod, she scurries away with a gentle smile on her lips, giving you some privacy.

He’s already grabbing your face, pressing his lips tightly to your forehead. “How are you feelin’?”

“Like I just pushed a huge baby out of my vagina.” you tell him honestly, causing him to chuckle.

“I missed your humor,” he comments and you laugh, but wince right after. “Careful.” he scolds you.

Gently smiling, you grab his hand ready to lead him to see the baby but he stops you. “I got you these when you were giving birth.” he hands you the roses and balloon.

It only makes you even more emotional, because you’re reminded how grateful you’re to be his friend. You don’t deserve him. “Thanks, Hobi.”

“Don’t thank me, sweetheart,” he tells you, caressing your cheek as you smile. “Now show me our little guy.”

And you do. You walk to the room where all newborn babies are on display through huge glass wall. You hold onto the railing with one hand and show him your son with the other. He spends a few minutes cooing at the small baby calmly sleeping, the tears spilling from his eyes causing you to do the same. Then he praises you for your hard work, trying to show you that you’re not alone in this.

He hugs you with one hand, letting it slouched over your shoulders as he kisses your temple.

“Oh crap, it’s Paige,” he tells you once he has to pull away to grab his ringing phone. “I’ve to take this. I’m gonna be right back, okay?” he tells you with apologetic look but you only smile, showing him that you don’t mind.

So with distant footsteps, he goes to somewhere private to take the call and you take that time to watch your baby.

As on cue, he slowly opens his small eyes and starts squirming on his spot but he doesn’t cry. He curiously look around and wiggles his small legs and arms causing you to giggle. But you’re not alone who lets out such sound from your lips. There is someone else giggling at the same time like you are.

What completely throws you back, is that it’s not some another mother or father, and you know that person very well.

He stands there tall in a black coat, practically screaming rich and wealthy just from the clothes he wears, as he watches your baby through the glass. He doesn’t notice you, his attention on the small baby wrapped in white duvet.

What the fuck is he doing here? How did he even know you gave birth? How the fuck he knows who’s his baby from another ten?

You’re consumed by your anger, but you watch him because this is not Seokjin you knew. Instead, you’re looking at a man who usually cold and dark features are swapped with gentle smile and doe eyes watching baby’s every movement. But you’re quick to snap from this, remembering what kind of man he is. He has no right to be here.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you snap, not caring how loud you’re being but thankfully, there is no one in the hallway to hear you.

Seokjin’s head snaps to yours, the gentle smile he was adoring long gone as he starts to look empty.

“What does it look like?” he sarcastically points out and you frown even more, your body shaking from the anger.

The fact he came here and still speaks to you like that, makes you not regretting your decision. Decision, that your baby will grow up without the father in his life.

“How did you know?” you ask him straightforwardly, your eyes narrowing at his.

This time, you’re not going to be that coward to look away, so you stand your ground. If he’s surprised by your sudden personality change, he doesn’t show it.

“I’ve my ways, Y/N, you know that.” he tells you and you almost miss the way his lips curve into a confident and proud smirk.

But you’ve seen it, causing your blood to boil even more. “Get out.” you tell him with clenched teeth, already moving towards him but you’re abruptly stopped by the pain causing you to wince and hold onto the railing once again, gripping it tightly.

“Shit, are you okay?” Seokjin is quick to react, his hands moving to your hips to steady you.

He haven’t touch you for so long and despite of the layers covering your skin, it feels like he just burned you. You flinch, slapping his arms away even though you really want to hold onto someone.

“No, I am not,” you answer him with tensed jaw as you mentally curse in your head. “You need to leave.” you tell him, silently begging him with your eyes.

He really needs to leave before you’ll break down. It’s already tough seeing him here, just a few meters from his baby you desperately tried to protect from him. But here he is. Kim Seokjin using his wealth and power.

He stares at you for a moment, it’s hard to guess what’s on his mind because he hides it perfectly underneath his sharp features and shiny dark eyes. He glances at the small baby, sleeping again and you quickly bite your lower lip not to cry.

You know you’ve done the right thing. You’re doing this for your baby. He deserves a father, but you know Seokjin would never be able to be a proper father figure to him. You know that much. But why are you debating and thinking about it so much, at the simple sight of him looking at the baby?

“What’s his name?” he asks silently, looking back at you.

It’s the same pair of dark eyes which looks intimidating but lurking at the same time. He’s captivating and beautiful, but again, you’re remembered by his cold personality. All the hurt you’ve felt because of him. The pain, he caused.

“Seokjin--” you sigh, already fed up with his presence.

“Just tell me his name.”

He doesn’t even use a simple ‘please’, but why does it sound like he’s begging you?

“He doesn’t have one yet.” you tell him, not really lying to him.

You were supposed to think about names with your partner, but you don’t have one. You’ve spent nights thinking about it alone, while he was still in your belly. Lately you’ve been talking about it with Hoseok, but Hoseok is your best friend. He is not the baby’s father. He has his own relationship going on, you don’t know for how long you’ll be able to stay at his.

He says you can stay for how ever long you want to, but you know you can’t. You’re already burdening him with bringing a newborn to his place. It was already enough that you’ve been living there for a couple of months while being pregnant.

He nods, you’re not sure if he believes you but you don’t try to persuade him or talk to him some more. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his fancy coat and just when you think he’s about to leave, he stops and says the last thing.

“Just don’t forget. I’ve my own rights.”

And he leaves, leaving you with once again shattered heart as if it was a piece of paper. You watch him walk away, something you’ve wanted for a long time.

Why do you feel so empty then?

#bts smut #bts angst #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin smut #seokjin scenario #bts au #personasintro #kim seokjin drabbles #bts drabble

650 notes · View notes

hideawayintheimaginationworld · 4 years

Note

If your still accepting story request and don't plan on writing this in one of your stories, maybe Night reuniting with Mike?

“You're my brother...”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes. Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Daniel—”

“I don’t answer to that name.”

“Then what do you answer to? Please tell me.”

Nightmarionne sighed. He never thought, his brother, or rather, the man who use to his brother was pleading for answers.

“Nightmarionne.”

“Why that name?”

“I didn’t want to be who I was anymore. Accept it.”

“I will... I will... but listen to me.”

“There is nothing to listen to Michael, this discussion is over.”

Michael grabbed his hand, “No! It's not!!” He realised how cold and bony his hand was, he looked at Nightmarionne in his cold blacken eyes, trying to see if he could actually see his brother in there, but he found nothing.

“I made an irreversible mistake... I killed you and now you're.... you’re this.”

“The proper word Old Man Consequences said was a Reaper.”

Michael's world has crashed before him, he thought his brother had been dead for years but he was here... standing in front of him... taller than him, “This is my fault...” He muttered.

“You were responsible for the events that led to my death, but you aren’t responsible for my death,” Nightmarionne said in response.

Michael frowned, “That makes zero sense... I never imagined you'd be like this...”

“What? Be like what? A monster?” Nightmarionne asked him showing him his taloned hands to emphasise his point. He was use to being called a monster, he didn’t wear the title with honour it was more like a label... a burden in a sense.

Michael gently shoved aside his hand, “No... not a monster... you speak with such little emotion... it's like you're apathetic or something... and it's creepy.”

Nightmarionne knew that already, his voice only sounded demonic but it was void of any real emotion. The only real emotion Nightmarionne felt was rage, and it was almost always explosive, as he had seen a man abusing a dog and immediately allowed Plushtrap to attack him in retaliation.

“It's like you really died on that day.”

“I did,” Nightmarionne answered, “Michael, I am not really your brother... I am the shell of who he once was... I can’t remember my mother... I was created from tragedy, agony... I can’t feel any real pain, Michael... I feel my head bleed sometimes...I can’t be your brother because I’m dead. Your brother is dead Michael. You must accept it,” Nightmarionne turned and walked away.

Michael shook his head, he felt himself cry for the first time in years, his brother was slipping away again, he thought about the last day in the hospital, a day he had nightmares about, a day he also died inside, with him being crushed with the realisation that he killed him.

“NO!!” Nightmarionne was stopped by Michael, who threw his arms around his waist to stop him, Michael noticed his whole body overall felt like a skeleton, as he just felt his spine... no meat or fat. Just a tall curved spine that held him up like a mannequin.

Nightmarionne looked down, towering over Michael but seeing him full on crying like a child.

“I won’t lose you again!! I spent so long believing it was my fault! I tried to end my life so many times because you weren’t there anymore! The guilt was killing me, Daniel!!” Michael sobbed.

Nightmarionne snapped.

“I KNOW YOU TRIED! I WAS ALWAYS THERE!!”

Michael froze, still crying, he truly did look like a child. A child who had just been told off by their parents.

“W-What do you mean... you were always there??” Michael asked confused.

Nightmarionne tried to push him away but Michael still hung on tightly, “I watched you... for years... I saw William beating the crap out of you...” Nightmarionne answered, “There were so many times I wanted to kill William myself but something always told me he'd get his comeuppance someday... I saw the fear in your eyes... I watched you mourn... ever wondered why your nightmares abruptly stopped?”

Michael shook his head.

“It was me, Nightmare was preying on you, like how he did to Alec many years later... like how he did to Millie... Sarah... he even tapped into Lefty trying to scare him by showing him what he feared most, which is losing the kids he'd tried so hard to protect... Nightmare weaponised your guilt and regret.”

“But if you did that... then there must be a part of you that doesn’t want me hurt... why have you never come back...?”

Nightmarionne shook his head, “Because... I can’t die... I would have to watch you die... I would suffer watching you die... the thought kills me.”

“So you don’t want to develop any emotional attachments??” Michael asked, “Because you think you'd lose them?”

“You taught me unintentionally that life can be easily stolen in a few moments...” Nightmarionne pushed him off, “Why grow fond of something if it will inevitably die? Especially when you would never be able die yourself.”

“You aren’t living Daniel... if you would be human again at this very moment, would you immediately stay here?” Michael asked.

“I would,” Nightmarionne honestly answered.

“So this immortality is the only thing that stops you??” Michael questioned.

“I hate how people dress up immortality like a paradise... it's hell... a punishment... walking through a long street, watching people come and go, as they are born then die... Immortality is a punishment to condemn permanent loneliness... the best part about being human is living the sweet moments... my life is a circle that never ends... I can’t even get a puppy... I would be too sad when it dies.”

“How about I get a puppy and you can play with it?” Michael suggested.

“No. Michael. No.”

Michael stammered for a response then said “Y-You are only dead because of me! I want to make it up to you! I want to be the older brother you deserve!”

“Then do what I ask Michael...” Nightmarionne lend down his body and his eyes were lined up with Michael's blue eyes.

“Walk away,” Nightmarionne said, seeing Michael's face turn to heartbreak, “Walk out of my life Michael... go enjoy your life with Sammy... with everyone... your brother is dead... you accepted that...”

“I only accepted it because I thought you were dead... but you aren’t!!”

“Why can’t you just fucking forget me?”

Michael wanted to sob again, but he immediately got an idea, “I use to self-harm... but I covered it with this...” Michael showed his arm, Nightmarionne saw the tattoo on his arm, he had seen it many times, it was a little plush Fredbear with a Foxy animatronic holding his hand, taking him somewhere, with words above it that said “Even when I’m gone, The Love in My Heart will Never End. I Love You Both, My Little Boys, Take Care of Each Other Always.”

Nightmarionne suddenly remembered that.

His mother.

It was the final thing she said to them ever.

He had desperately tried to remember her.

Even now he couldn’t recall her name or her face.

He just remembered that.

That had disturbed something in him. Something broken shifted.

He noticed the tattoos were obviously covering self-harm scars, Nightmarionne had seen him self harm at one point and just let it be, not wanting to get involved in family stuff ever again.

Nightmarionne traced a finger over where he saw one of the scars, “You are better than me.”

“Why?”

“Because people won’t run from you.”

“Well, I’m not running from you.”

“Not even when I show this?” Nightmarionne asked, his lower face immediately tore in half, Michael saw the wall of teeth in front of him, Nightmarionne then slowly opened his mouth to show he had more than one row of sharp teeth in his mouth.

His face then came back together, he had a normal mouth, he was waiting for Michael to give an answer.

“When you consider your hair already makes you look like a demon... it doesn’t bother me... I mean we have a bunch of things, that we've both seen, killer clown robots, body-swapping robots, and the weird kid.”

“You’re just saying that Michael.”

“I’m saying it because you are my brother.”

“Yes, I am.”

#Ask #Five Nights at Freddy’s #FNAF 4 #Fazbear Frights #FNAF Michael #Nightmarionne #FNAF Crying Child #Writing Drabble #anonymous

28 notes · View notes