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eldritcmor · 5 months

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Saw Ask the Ocs from lucans blog and the jade incident, and saw you had a hand with helping developing it!

A) I think it's cool! You two did an amazing job

B) what was storms reaction, and the rest of their teams reaction? I know Storm was involved so their thoughts might not be much, but it's still interesting

Storm- "I have scars on my knees from that you know. Messy, crunchy, zig-zaggy scars, all because they broke my knees with a baseball bat." They grumbled leaning back in their chair. “I was in a coma for about a month afterwards, just so they could at least repair the damage. Couldn't walk after that for a little while. It was terrifying, to say the least. Between the torture and the bomb, what I did was reckless and incredibly stupid. I didn’t see any other option. My goal was get Moose and go, but it didn’t work out like that. Instead got near buried alive, again. I was in too much pain to really process that I was under rubble, so that’s a bonus. The coma was…nice. No visions of my closest people dying, no pain, no stress. Just fucking floating like a dead fish. I barely remember the rescue and I don’t know if that’s the trauma talking or something else. Honestly, I’m just glad to be alive. I am well aware that eventually we all come back but I take a whole lot longer and well the others might not take it kindly.

Bes- “When Joseph came in with that laptop and played that sound bite, I wanted to go on a rampage. I wanted to go out, hunt jade down, and beat him til even the gods don’t recognize his soul. But. But. But. That’s not how SHC works anymore. So we played by Laswell’s ear. Storm doesn’t bounce back like the rest of us. What will take hours for us, will take days for them. Up until we got paidí mou back, I wasn't thinking clearly. Even then afterwards, It took me a minute to realize that I shouldn’t rush off to kick Jade’s head in. I was probably the first one around their bedside aside from Joseph.

Merc- We work closely with Dante and 141, after all sh6 is considered a medic only squad. It was supposed to be a simple observation mission. Wilson was point, Avery was back up, and Joseph was navigation. The info was bad. There was no meeting. Just an ambush. The thud of Avery hitting concrete from a catwalk to be knocked out is very likely a sound I will never want to here again. Jake was the angriest of us. Wanted to go out and paint a building with Jade’s blood. Taylor and I managed to talk him out of it. That doesn’t mean we didn’t have our own struggles. When storm was in recovery, I will admit I thought of calling in a few friends and favors, and hunting Jade myself. Taylor talked me out of it while my husband was at storm’s bedside.

Fen- It was scary. We are all trained to resist interrogation and have died enough to have a knack for it. But this, this was terrifying. Avery is a lot of people’s little sibling. We are protective of them, even in our line of work. So to have your hands tied in red tape while you get video and message of hurting your little sibling, well there’s not a lot of good guy attitude after it. When it came to the bomb going off with those two still in the building, Thank the gods Joseph still had his head about. They did about tear Ghost’s head off for suggesting a mercy kill after finding the two, but I was relieved. We managed to dig them out and get them to the nearest hospital. After that was a waiting game. Michael and Jake are impatient. I had to talk them both down from running out and splattering jade across the pavement. That isn't to say I fully discouraged. We’ve been working on tracking him down, and when the time comes, well we’ll make sure there isn’t a piece of him left even for the crows.

#cod mw2 #eld writes #storm au #Avery storm scott #Jake bes O'neil #Michael Merc Nowak #Taylor fen cousland #Safe house six #cod fanfic

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veerbles · 3 months

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every single thing said about kaz is just like, patently false to the point of irony. dirtyhands about a man whose hands are literally spotless because they're never uncovered. without morals or conscience, would do anything for money when it is repeatedly implied he's passed over business opportunities if they involved slavery or indentures. doesn't say goodbye, just lets go about a man who has made it a point to never let anything go. doesn't need a reason when he is proven to never act without a reason, and in all actuality usually has at least two. and this is without mentioning bastard of the barrel about probably one of the only barrel kids to have at least started out with a "normal", happy nuclear family...

and it just makes me think: kaz is deliberately written not to be better than people say he is, but just bad in different ways. he is not good or virtuous or compassionate; the point of having people say things that are not true about him isn't to make a point of his completely different nature.

so the point of it can only be to emphasize how nobody really knows him. to draw attention to his absolute isolation. and maybe to give more credit to how much his 'armour', which is supposed to protect him by keeping everyone away, really only serves to keep him away from everyone else.

#kaz brekker #six of crows #kaz brekker character analysis is living in my mind rent free this week #and not to make this post about kanej - but this whole narrative choice also emphasizes how inej is the only one he (somewhat) lets in #better terrible truths than kind lies etc etc etc #also this is why I am fundamentally against the idea that kaz only opposes indentures because of inej #and why I am also against the idea that kaz aspires to go honest/above board and rule ketterdam at some point #kaz is against indentures but he Will lie and cheat and blackmail his way to working against it.#kaz won't hurt children but his definition of what is OKAY to do with children is dubious to say the least.#kaz has done many things arguably benefitting other barrel rats - but he will be vehemently against 'cleaning up' the barrel #because he's genuinely too fucked up to wish someone a safe childhood in some mercher's house instead of fighting for their own fate #he's MORALLY GRAY. he is MY morally gray little barrel rat and you can pry him from my cold dead hands :)

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arainbowmess · 9 months

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My mom's fav crow is kaz...

I'm scared.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

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Safe House: Night 1

A series of drabbles about Sierra Six. In this part, Six finds a place to hide out.

Warnings: these drabbles will containt dark content, including blood, violence, possible rape/noncon, and my usual fare. Your content consumption is your responsibility. If you proceed past this warning, you are consenting to reading sensitive content.

As per usual, I would love feedback. I didn’t expect to write this character so for this, I’d love to know if anyone wants to see more.

There’s a man at your door. A stranger. Sitting on the floor, one long leg stretched to its limit, the other bent as his shoulders slouch, head hanging weakly.

Is he awake? Alive?

The building isn’t on the best side of the city. Usually, stragglers loiter by the door, trying to sneak in or bum a smoke. You’ve learned to keep your head down and lips sealed. Act like they aren’t there.

How can you when he’s between you and safe haven?

You squeeze your phone, always in hand just in case. You tilt the screen up.

“Don’t,” his low voice crackles dryly, “no cops.”

You look up. He leans his head back against the door. He groans as he grips his ribs and bears his teeth.

“Sorry, I–” he grunts as he plants a foot, dragging his other leg up below him, unable to put much weight on it as he slaps a hand against the door to keep from falling back. His gloved fingers curl as he swears under his breath, “I’ll get out of here,” he wobbles on his feet, “I don’t– where am I?”

“Holland and Mackenzie,” you give the closet intersection, “what happened to you?”

“Not your problem,” he takes a step and staggers, his shoulder hitting the wall as he hisses. He’s in bad shape, that cut on his forehead is the least of it, but the smear of blood already has you queasy.

“I’ll call an ambulance,” you offer.

“No, no cops,” he insists a second time, “shit.”

You take a breath. You know better. You near with your keys in your other hand, holding one outright, ready to stab.

“Don’t try anything,” you warn as you point it at him. He laughs but it only makes him wince.

“Sure thing,” he shakes his head.

You aim it towards the lock and turn the latch back. You cautiously turn the handle and push inward, letting the heavy door open on its own weight. You look at him again.

“I… I got some rubbing alcohol? Some gauze somewhere–”

“You inviting strange men in around here?” he snorts.

“I suppose it’s like you said, it doesn’t need to be my problem.”

“Right,” he turns and grasps the door frame, arm above your head as you enter.

He limps in behind you, falling against the wall once more as you shut the door. He’s tall, he would be even bigger if he could stand straight. You twist the lock into place and hang your keys. You unzip your coat and hang it on the rack with your purse.

“Bit cramped,” you say as you continue down the short hall, the front room and kitchen one and the same.

He trails you, one foot thumping heavily. You pull out a wooden chair from the table and he falls into it. You back away and look down at your phone. It’s not too late to call.

“No,” he repeats as he peels his gloves off, “if you like this place as it is, no cops.”

You frown and look away guiltily, “you mind if I order some food?”

“By all means,” he eyes you, taking in your stained apron and the bandana around your head. You’re a mess but nothing compared to him.

You key in an order adding a double portion of noodles to stir fry. You put the phone face down and search the kitchen drawers. You grab a few dish cloths then go through the bathroom to dig out the bottle of isopropyl, the box of bandaids, and the forgotten roll of gauze.

You return to him as he lets his jacket droop down at the bend of the chair. There’s a tear in his black shirt, he rips it until most of his torso is bared. He’s covered in dark blood as it leaks from a gash down his ribs. You quickly drop your wares on the table and hide your mouth behind your hand as you gag.

“It’s not all mine,” he says, “I’ll survive.”

“Mmhmm,” you swallow, “I’m sorry, blood just make me—” You turn away, “I can smell it, oh my god.”

He scoffs quietly but says nothing. His breath gristles as he reaches for the bottle and you watch from the corner of your eye. He’s so nonchalant about it all, it scares you.

Who is he? What is he?

“Shit,” he mutters, “can I ask you a favour?”

You look at him, pushing your hands flat to the counter to keep from shaking, “yep.”

“I need you to get my boot off,” he says, “I can’t… really bend over.”

He has gauze pressed to his ribs, deep red staining through. You go to him and get on one knee. He directs you to the left and untie the laces. You wiggle it off his foot and he groans. He sits back in the chair and huffs through his nose.

“Alright, one more thing,” he grits through his teeth, “put your thumb at the base of my big toe…” you glance at him in confusion but do as he says, “alright, take your other hand, grip my heel–” he inhales, hugging his middle as he presses the gauze tighter below his chest, “now push above my toe until you hear a pop.”

“What–”

“Just do it.”

You hold back another gag. You hate this. You hate blood, you hate injuries, you can’t.

“Come on, sweetheart, take a breath and–”

You suck in air and push. He snarls and hits the table. His toe pops and he throws his head back as a long ‘fuck’ rolls off his tongue.

“I’m sorry, I–” you let go of his foot, “did I hurt you?”

He snickers and shakes his head, “nope, you did it. Damn.” He puts his foot on the floor, “not the first time. You boot a guy hard enough in the skull and it just pops the joint outta place.”

You stand and stare at him. “You do that a lot?”

His eyes flit to the wall and he smirks, “when I need to.”

He pulls the gauze from his cuts and snatches up another square. You scrunch your nose at the torn flesh. “Got some medical tape? Even scotch tape? Something to keep this on.”

“Uh, I’ll go have a look,” you nod.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he leans his arm on the table as he mops up more blood with the fabric. You hesitate. The scars down his arm suggest this is just another night for him. You hope it’s just one for you.

#sierra six #the gray man #six #drabbles #drabble series #safe house #series #dark!drabble #dark drabb #dark six #dark!six

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akkpipitphattana · 4 months

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it really means the world to me to know i’m my nephew’s favorite person

#and i don’t mean in a oh he said i was way cause like he has but he’s also six so he says someone new every week #and sometimes he just wants to annoy his parents or grandma #i mean it in a we were helping my sister and brother in law move today and he cried when there wasn’t a car available #for us to drive from apartment to apartment together #and in a he asked for me to carry him into the house #and in a he hasn’t seen his sister in a while and almost started crying earlier talking about her and i was able to cheer him up #and in a when he’s really throwing a fit i’m the person they ask to come help and calm him down #and i don’t love it purely for the like the pride aspect tho i’m definitely proud of it #but he’s also six and been through way more than he ever should have and i’m so glad that i make him feel safe and loved and listened to #i never want my own kids but if i can be a safe place for the kids in my life that’s all i could ask for #liz rambles

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dewitty1 · 7 months

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Saturday Six (Stuff)

The Dude (@super-ultra-mega-kami-guru-blog) comes home Monday night!( ´͈ ॢꇴ `͈ॢ)･*♡

I guess the kittehs have been good company. Leeloo has been a typical kitten aka a terror. (^・ω・^ )

As much as I don't want my parents to interfere in my business I do want my mom to ask her bestie, WTF, because I did an estimate for her and I have heard back and I need money like now. Mom said no, and rightfully so, but still, lol.（’-’*)

Speaking of parents, Mom asked me to come hang out at their old people gratitude dinner today. Umm, yeah no thanks. Once was enough. I'm fine hanging out with myself.٩(•̤̀ᵕ•̤́๑)ᵒᵏᵎᵎᵎᵎ

Seriously the worst part of being a small business person is worrying about money. We hates it.( •̀ω•́ )σ

And even though he's a jerk about it, Dad is helping me get tires on my car. That's one good thing, he'll always keep the car up. Though he still calls it "his" car. s(・｀ヘ´・;)ゞ

Bonus: Happy End of Daylight Saving Time weekend! Tonight most of the USA imitates Cher and turns back time, the Standard clock. WHEEEE. (not fun. We hates the dark) (´～`)

#Saturday Six #About me #Personal #November 4 2023 #please do not reblog #Carey rambles about life and stuff and her parents and it's amazing that her mom actually thought that she might be a little lonely which y #But I do not want to hang out with a bunch of old - now sober - drunks - most of whom are jerks anyway and have a pseudo Thanksgiving #I'd rather do accounting - which I actively LOATHE lolololol #And I'm making chili (con carne & frijoles for you sticklers)#so yeah anyway #I'm excited for the dude to come home #I guess - though it's been nice having the house to myself #I hooe their dad has talked to them about working 🙏#Alrighty enough rambles in the tags #I hope you have a great day or night wherever you are #Don't let the current events happening get you down #I hope all your loved ones are safe #Hugssss from mom or just a friend whatever you need right now ٩(๑•◡-๑)۶ⒽⓤⒼ❤💜 💙 💚 💛 ❤️ 💕 💖#I appreciate y'all reading my nonsensical ramblings every time I throw them out! 💗#Now back to your regularly scheduled programming

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rainysaturdayafternoon · 1 year

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so what do you do when you feel like it’s 130° celsius every where you go no matter what you do

#and you feel like you want to punch someone in the face for singing Fight Song in a baby voice #and every surface you see has four to twenty random somewhat sticky items spewed across it #and you can smell tomato raisin chicken and you hate chicken #and you feel like you want to throw up #or hibernate for three months #and your sisters keep promising to be quiet and then they start sCrEaMiNG and StOmPiNG #and your littlest sister can walk into a room and it immediately becomes coated in syrup and four week old laundry stench #and you haven’t had water or food in six hours except for a gross peanut butter sandwich on squishy white bread #and your middle sister keeps whining like an immature sports bro from sixth grade #and you keep hearing random music from 2015 that’s way too loud and has a singer who’s off beat #and your room—the only safe place in your entire house—is SIXTY THOUSAND DEGREES WITH FOUR THOUSAND PERCENT HUMIDITY #and your nails keep randomly breaking over and over again and catching on your hair and your clothes and your skin and furniture and tissue #and you’re wearing black flares and a black t shirt and you keep thinking your mom thinks you’re depressed #and your black t shirt is new but it’s two sizes too big in a really awful way #and that annoying bar that suggests tags keeps popping up over what you’re writing #and you’re hair feels too thick and too curtly and unbrushable and ugly #and your insides feel like you’re on fire and being torn limb from limb #and everything is too loud #anyone have any suggestions for me #pls #leah’s lost thoughts #leah wastes time #sorry this is just a rant for no reason

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mabith · 9 months

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The absolute anger I feel towards people on this garden show who, when picking between two designs (both tailored to what they've said they want), choose the most unsuitable one is probably not healthy. You have a toddler and an almost-toddler and now you'll have a garden where there's no remotely open space for them to play, just paths between raised beds. Can't kick a ball around, can't throw a frisbee because of all these pergolas... The other design was so much more sensible (and still had lots of planting and would be easier to change once the kids are older).

#there doesn't even seem to be a decently sized patio or other seating area #there is barely going to be space for a 10 year old to safely do a cartwheel and what's the point of that #and when I say they need more grass I don't mean a manicured lawn I just mean scraggly normal grass that you do nothing to #one time people with a toddler picked a design with holes in the raised deck for plants to come through after they'd talked about safety #just flat deck and then sudden hole out of nowhere #I'm not big on overly safety conscious stuff given kids can be taught and the time goes quickly #but a big fucking hole out of nowhere with a 2 foot drop seems like asking for trouble for everyone (including the tiny dog they had)#also British people are fucking obsessed with their gardens being overlooked by second floor windows of nearby houses #only they've already got a six foot privacy fence and no one cares what you're doing in your garden buddy #no one had fences like that in my hometown and no one worried about being 'overlooked'#most yards had no fences whatsoever of had a waist high chain link fence just to keep a dog in

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charliesangels2fullthrottle · 1 year

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I need to stop wallowing but I literally can't

how do I get my mind off of tourettes when it's constantly forcing me to acknowledge it

how do I get myself back out there when I don't have the energy or desire to have to disclose my tourettes to everyone I see

I just feel so miserable and alone and my brain is melting more by the day

#Josh wants to have people over #and my options are: disclose my tourettes to six people who have known me since before my tics developed #or be forced to leave my house to another safe space #or tell Josh he can't have his friends over #I wish I could just casually join in with his friends like I used to

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sayruq · 2 months

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My grandmother Naifa al-Sawada was born in June 1932. A beautiful girl with blue eyes, she was the only daughter to her parents. They were originally from Gaza but moved to nearby Bir al-Saba, where Naifa’s father Rizq worked as a merchant. She did well at school and in 1947 obtained the necessary certificate from the British – then the rulers of Palestine – to attend university. She did not do so, however. Her father was fearful about what could happen to her at a time when war in Palestine appeared imminent. At a young age, she married my grandfather Salman al-Nawaty and went to live in Gaza. Between 1947 and 1949, Zionist forces expelled approximately 800,000 Palestinians from their homes. Among those directly affected by the Nakba – Arabic for catastrophe – were Naifa’s own parents, who fled their home in Bir al-Saba for Gaza. Having witnessed the Nakba, Naifa encouraged her own children to defend Palestine. Naifa gave birth to four girls and six boys.Like so many mothers in Gaza, she experienced great loss. Her son Moataz went missing while traveling to Jerusalem in 1982. It is still not known what happened to him. Another son Moheeb, a journalist, left Palestine for Norway in 2007. Three years later he traveled to Syria. In January 2011, he went missing. The Syrian authorities subsequently confirmed to the Norwegian diplomatic service that he was imprisoned. But he has not been allowed to contact his family.We do not know his current whereabouts or even if he is alive or dead. My grandmother witnessed the first intifada from 1987 and 1993. On the streets around her, youngsters with stones and slingshots rose up against armed Israeli soldiers in tanks and military jeeps. During that time, her son Moheeb – the aforementioned journalist – was held for more than a year without charge or trial. That infamous practice is called administrative detention. My grandmother lived close to al-Shifa, Gaza’s largest hospital. She took great care of arranging everything in her home with her delicate hands. She used those same hands to comb her hair into braids. She memorized the Quran and took great interest in the education of her children and grandchildren. On 21 March this year, Israeli troops broke into my grandmother’s home. The soldiers displayed immense brutality. They ordered the women in our family to evacuate on foot and arrested the men. They would not allow the women to take my grandmother, who had Alzheimer’s disease, with them. The soldiers claimed that my grandmother would be safe. That was a lie. The invasion of my grandmother’s house took place amid Israel’s siege on al-Shifa hospital. My grandmother’s house was destroyed during that siege and she was killed. Her remains were found days after the Israeli troops eventually withdrew from the hospital earlier this month. She was killed – alone – in the same house where she had lived since 1955. We do not know if she suffered or if she died quickly. We do know that she was older than Israel’s merciless occupation.

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #gaza genocide #genocide #naifa al sawada #al shifa hospital #war crimes

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fingertipsmp3 · 7 months

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Realistically I would never be in a horror movie because the second any unexplainable stimuli happened, I would scream “FUCK THAT” and vacate the premises

#like bro i don’t even feel totally safe and at ease in this house that i’ve lived in for years #you are out of your goddamn mind if you think i’d move into a blatantly haunted house and not notice/care it was haunted #i just watched sister death and like… why did my girl watch a chair throw itself across the room and just. go to sleep #i would’ve been running down that corridor like ‘FUCK THIS’#trying to hitchhike in rural spain. calling an uber ~70 years ahead of the curve #one thing about me is i am not one of god’s strongest soldiers and i know this. i am not final girl material. i am not built different #i am the fat acquaintance who dies first and is discovered right around the time people start suspecting there’s a killer or zombie or demon #i avoid horror movie situations like the fucking plague. you think i’m going to watch a ghost throw a chair at the wall and just stick #around???? FUCK NO #i don’t fuck with ouija boards; i don’t look around abandoned buildings; i don’t camp; i don’t stay in suspicious or haunted places #i have no desire to end up on the six o’clock news as an unexplained death after being mangled by the horrors. fuck that!!!!#personal

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eldritcmor · 6 months

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i d k if its been asked but who are dante and sh6

sorry if its been answered just couldnt find it anywhere, and assumed they were canon squads but i cant find anything of them

All good Anon! SH6 or Safe House Company Squad Six and Task Force Dante are not canon squads. They are Original Character Squads. Task Force Dante belongs to @skylordgrey and SH6 belongs to me. Timeline wise, Both possibly got their starts possibly a little before mw2's favorite murder men, 141.

TF-Dante was started by Captain Daniel "Moose" Wilson and hIs second in command, James "Lumberjack" Lane. They fill a similar role to 141 but possibly not as well known nor widespread. TF-Dante is a seven man squad, consisting of:

Captain Daniel "Moose" Wilson

James "Lumberjack" Lane

Harvey "Bull" Stevens

Isaiah "Soot" Kaiden

Joseph "Ferret" Payne

Mike "Peregrine" Green

Callum "Fish" King

SH6 is a little more tricky as they are a chunk of a much larger whole. Squad Six is run by Captain Jake "Bes" O'Neil and his second in command, Michael "Merc" Nowak." The squad is specialized for medical and emergency evac. Imagine an ambulance crew but a higher risk of learning more weird shit than learning of the human body (Thank you charcoal). Especially considering that SHC operates more with supernatural shit. They are contracted to TF-141 and TF-Dante. SH6 is a four man squad consisting of:

Captain Jake "Bes" O'Neil

Michael "Merc" Nowak

Taylor "Fen" Cousland

Avery "Storm" Scott

#eld speaks #cod mw2 #call of duty oc #cod oc #Sh6 #Taskforce Dante #Safe house company Squad six

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tender-rosiey · 6 months

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“GOOD! NOW PUNCH HIS FACE!”

— when your baby and gojo, geto, nanami, toji, and sukuna get protective over you (f!reader)

a/n: I am alive!! as an apology here is a multi-character post 🙏 btw in toji's part, you're megumi's mom

GOJO SATORU:

two peas in a pod, twins, copies: these are all things people have called your husband and son.

honestly, they’re not wrong. your son has his father’s looks—satoru swears he has your nose and ears but anyway—and he carries the same protectiveness and love he holds for you, if not amplified.

you can’t count on one hand the amount of times the house has been turned upside down because of their fights for a cuddle session with you.

of course, you have always tried suggesting them simply sharing you, but these problem children would rather eat raw zucchini than ever share the cuddle time.

so while your son is barely six, you can still count on him to team up with satoru against anyone who wrongs you in anyway like what’s happening right now for example.

you’re out with your lovely family to buy some groceries, and since they both were whining about getting some sweets, you allowed them to go and snatch a couple from the next aisle.

on the other hand, you stayed to look for another type of detergent to clean the floor—especially since satoru got this new type of paint for s/n and it’s quite an endeavor to remove it with a regular detergent.

however, being in the cleaning supplies section never guaranteed the lack of filthy men who can’t take no for an answer. this one man approaches you, smug grin on his face as he leans on the wall, “what’s a pretty lady like you doing alone?”

“buying groceries like a normal person; now please leave me alone.”

he quickly frowns, “don’t be so stingy doll,” his hand extends towards your arm, “I can show you a good time; I promise—“

the man is swiftly smacked with an egg on his face, and he is left with the egg dripping down his face, “what’s your wrong with your kid, man?!” he yells at the person behind you.

he then grumbles, “ruined a potential good night.”

“my kid was absolutely right in what he did,” you hear satoru’s voice. you then feel a hand on your shoulder, and you’re pulled into a chest you’re all too familiar with, “’toru—“

your husband shoots a small smile your way, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, before looking at his son, “that last throw was very good, s/n! throw another one but just below his stomach."

a cheshire cat-like grin is plastered on your husband’s face as s/n prepares to launch another egg at the man.

there is a very evident scowl on your son’s face as he yells, “don’t you ever bother mama again, you stinky bum crumb!”

the man gasps and tries to make a run for it, but your son wouldn’t be the son of gojo satoru if he doesn’t manage to land the hit exactly where he wants.

the man quickly crumbles to the ground screaming and alerting literally everyone in the store.

so satoru picks both you and s/n and makes a run for it.

you hold tightly onto him, “wait, ‘toru, the groceries!”

“we can always order! saving my princess and son is more important!”

your son grumbles, “but I want to hit the rude man!”

“me too, champ, but—“ satoru sweat-drops and glances behind him, “I doubt the angry security guards would like that!”

GETO SUGURU:

your twin girls are one of the sassiest to exist.

in a way, they take after their father who is also pretty sassy but very low-key.

the sass of all three combined is terrible to be the victim of. luckily for you, they don’t dare direct their triple ray towards you, especially—in any argument—at least one will try to win you over.

if it’s suguru trying to stay on your good side, then he is hugging you from behind, pressing feather-like kisses on your shoulder and whispering about how sweet you are. if it’s the girls, then they cling to your legs and keep yelling about how much they love you.

so it is safe to say that you have a small squad to protect you from any potential “danger”.

“oh my, dear shouldn’t you focus on refining yourself a bit more?” you hear a woman say beside you.

you turn towards her, offended, “excuse me?”

“I mean,” her eyes scan you, disapprovingly, “you look average at best, and with that you won’t be able to find yourself a husband, let alone have children.”

you’re still processing her audacity as she continues, “but then again, it’s probably for the better that you don’t have children; you can barely take care of yourself.”

“can I help you?” your husband says as he approaches the woman.

she smiles condescendingly before chuckling, “I was simply telling this lady to take care of herself more; she hardly looks presentable.”

geto’s smiles tenses up as he is about to give the woman a calm peace of his mind, but his daughters beat him to it.

your older twin stands in front of the woman, scanning her with pure disgust in her eyes.

she grimaces and voices out her thoughts, “you are like a crunchy lizard.”

the woman gasps, “how dare you—!”

you cut off the woman, curious about your daughter’s conclusion, “why a crunchy lizard, sweetheart?”

your daughter looks at you with a small frown, shaking her head, “a crunchy lizard is an ugly sad lizard.”

a snort escapes your husband, and you’re barely able to contain your smile.

your other daughter follows up, looking at her twin sister, “the lady looks like that one green thingy we saw yesterday,” she taps her little foot, trying to remember and beams at the woman, “shrek! you look like shrek!”

then they both glare at her, frowning, “you’re a monkey!”

your husband doesn’t let it go as he deals the final—subtle—blow, “come on now girls; we shouldn’t bully the lady with the mcdonald’s like hairline anymore.”

it seems like the woman can’t take it anymore as she starts sobbing and running to the hills.

a moment of silence is shared across the four of you, before you carry both of your girls in your arms and start tickling them, “I don’t know whether to be proud of you or scold you, little evil girls!”

they squeal, trying to escape your hold and calling for their father.

geto chuckles and wraps his arms around the three of you, “let them have it for tonight, y/n,” he ruffles their hair, “they were brave and defended their mom, after all.”

“yeah, papa is right!”

“yes mama, please!”

you pout then smirk at geto, “well I don’t mind, and since papa is also very proud of you girls, he will buy any toy that you guys want today!”

the color drains from your husband’s face, and he watches motionlessly as his girls latch onto him, screaming about the toys they want.

you giggle at his expression and blow him a kiss. he reluctantly blows you one back, while the girls excitedly pull him towards the toy store.

NANAMI KENTO:

you and your husband were blessed with the sweetest girl as your daughter, and she was just recently joined by another sweet girl.

you can never forget the happiness on your daughter’s face when she saw her baby sister.

it also seems that no matter how many times you give birth, your husband can’t help but get emotional when he holds your baby. his hands are forever delicate as he cradles her to his chest.

you remember what he said during the birth of your first daughter.

“I feel like a piece of heaven has been plucked and placed in my arms.”

the way he always goes soft for the three of you is honestly adorable.

today, you were going on an outing with your—now 6 months old—baby and your older daughter who is almost six.

your husband never brags about his muscular form, but he never misses a chance to carry the baby or the baby supplies.

you have offered to at least carry the bag, but he always refuses, stating that ‘you already carried the baby for nine entire months in your belly; this is the least I can do.’

so yeah, sometimes you wish to smooch your husband till forever, but that’s not the point.

you’re walking hand in hand with your daughter as she sings her favorite song. you hear someone click their tongue, so you look to the side and lock eyes with an old lady. she takes the opportunity and approaches you.

“you should be ashamed of yourself!” she yells pointing at you, “your husband shouldn’t be carrying the baby supplies nor the baby itself for the matter,” she scowls, “that’s your job!”

“with all due respect ma’am, but that isn’t her job, and taking care of the baby should be something we are both responsible for.”

“yeah!” your daughter huffs, “and don’t take out your sad life on my mama!”

your eyes widen as you stare at your daughter.

on the other side, your husband is just as speechless. your daughter pays no one any mind as she continues, “mama works hard every day! you wouldn’t know that! you immature nugget!”

nanami frowns lightly, “d/n, that’s not nice—“

and for the cherry on top, your baby daughter throws the bottle cap she was playing with at the old lady, and frowns at her.

she starts babbling some nonsense that you're pretty sure are curse words in baby language.

having had enough, the old lady huffs, “the utter disrespect,” and starts walking away.

the rest of the spectators’ eyes follow her till she is out of sight. finally then, people start minding their own business, and you and your little family are left to the aftermath.

you giggle, “that was funny.”

“really?!” your daughter beams.

nanami cuts her off, “no,” he then looks at you with a small frown, a sigh escaping his lips, “y/n don’t encourage them—“

your baby daughter screams happily when she sees her sister smile. she starts kicking her feet with the biggest smile on her own face.

your older daughter starts laughing with her and tries to make her little sister laugh more—she was successful.

meanwhile, you chuckle, leaning on your husband’s shoulder, “admit it, kento; it was kind of funny.”

his resolve softens at the sound of laughter from all three of his girls, “okay, maybe a little, but—“

“yay!!”

ladies: 1

kento: 0

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

your husband and son are so alike, save for the part that your husband is a bit more shameless, and your son is more on the shy side.

however, they both have the same bluntness and the tendency to give anyone who they don’t like attitude.

for example, today, you were walking in the park with the both of them to unwind a bit.

not to mention that megumi wanted to walk his dogs which was a plus, since you would be able to watch your dear son play around with them.

it was all going great until you saw an old ‘friend’ who came running at the sight of you. he was someone who has always been way too touchy and in your personal bubble.

you have tried talking to him about it, but you’re confident that he does it to somehow force you into reciprocating the intimacy.

even if you’re a married woman with a freaking kid.

he giddily clasps your hand, “y/n, ‘been a long time!”

“h-hey,” you smile awkwardly.

he laughs, “I was passing by when I saw your figure, and I couldn’t help but come and say hi.”

you nod, “that’s great, but I am busy, so maybe later?—“

“you’ve gotten even prettier!” he exclaims, “I wish you would finally take me out on a—“

“can’t you see that she is uncomfortable?” your son retorts, “also, you should step back; you shouldn’t touch someone like this without asking them.”

megumi squeezes himself between the both you and glares at the man.

the guy was about to reply to your son, but toji pushes him back with ease, pulling you beside him and hand resting on your waist almost by instinct, “kid is right,” he tilts his head a bit, “ever been taught manners or do I have to do the teaching for you?”

the guy is taken back; offended, he snaps “you can’t speak to me like that!”

“and you can’t hold my mom’s hands like that, but here we are,” your son cleverly sasses him.

on the other hand, your—shameless—husband pulls you into one scandalous kiss and smirks at the guy when he pulls back, “and you can’t hit on a married woman, by the way.”

you hear your son gag in disgust at his dad’s actions, but you’re too busy burying your face in your husband’s chest, hoping that the guy disappears before toji makes even more of a bigger scene.

you also hope that the ground would swallow you, but that’s the alternative option.

the guy clutches his fist, before walking away, spewing insults at the sky—since he is too scared to cuss out your buff husband. once the man is out of sight, toji ruffles megumi’s hair, chuckling, “good job, kid.”

your shy bean’s cheeks redden slightly as he looks away, “…thanks.”

you’re still thinking about what just happened when you slap your husband’s chest, “toji, literally why?” you grumble, patting megumi who started holding onto your leg the moment you hugged toji.

“why not,” your husband shrugs with a small smile, taking pride in your flustered form.

“dad, I want ice cream.”

“no, you just want me to let go your mom, so you can hog her for yourself,” toji grumbles, staring down at megumi.

unfaltering, megumi looks up at him ,“dad, I want ice cream.”

“god damn it, listen here you—“

“divine dogs.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

there is no denying that both your son and your husband care for you very much, and they both—very aggressively—compete for your attention.

I am talking he literally throws the kid across the room kind of aggressive, and your son, in turn, throws whatever he has at him.

it’s eventful, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t one of the reasons why you will get grey hair earlier than everyone else.

so their very aggressive nature is also shown in their protectiveness over you.

a person doesn’t need to insult or even dare flirt with you for your devil duo to make their life a living hell; your husband and son don’t tolerate someone speaking to you if it causes you to ignore both of them.

for example, this one new servant was clueless to where the broom is, and unluckily for him, he saw you sitting with your husband and son in the gardens. he humbly approached you, “excuse me, m’lady.”

you turn to look at him with a smile, “yes?”

he clears throat, a bit flustered by the attention, “I—I wanted to ask where the—“

“up your ass, you disgusting fiend,” your son sneers followed by his father’s ever-permanent scowl.

“who gave you the permission to come and speak to her so casually?” sukuna presses, and the servant quickly falls to his knees.

“m-my apologies, my lord! I did not mean to disturb you!”

sukuna crosses his arms, “well, you did, and you also disturbed your queen and prince,” his eyes narrow at the servant, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

meanwhile, you’re watching all of that, mouth agape and trying to articulate anything to save the poor guy. you finally find your voice, “sukuna, it’s okay; he didn’t mean—“

your son hugs you tightly and glares at the servant, “to think he would so brazenly speak to you like you’re old friends is terrible, mother.”

you can almost see your son’s cursed energy flaring, and you can spot the small smirk on your husband’s face as he watches his son.

before it escalates any further and you find yet another dead corpse in your palace, you pick up your son, kissing his cheek which makes him flustered and causing him to bury his face in your neck.

you look at the servant, “you’re dismissed, and you can ask the head maid about anything you need, okay?”

“y-yes, m’lady!” he, however, stays glued to the ground, “may I have the permission to lift my head?”

sukuna grunts, “sure.”

“thank you, m’lord,” the servant says, before scurrying towards the gate, having secured his freedom after his little mistake.

or at least, that’s what he thought.

your husband slices his legs off with a flick of a finger, and your son, who has inherited his father’s technique, slices the head off.

and so the body falls to the ground, and the other servants hurriedly start cleaning up the mess.

you frown at your husband, “sukuna! he apologized!”

he rolls his eyes, and pulls you by the waist, “do I look like I care? he shouldn’t have interrupted our time together.”

“aww, you’re jealous!”

“no, I am not—“

“hands off, old man!”

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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addictsitter · 9 months

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i was gonna ask why someone said ihop on that post but then i realized that most people probably don't hold an eternal lowkey grudge against the restaurant bc i can't fucking eat there. their syrup has juuuuust enough of the whole "processed on the same equipment" shit to set off the whole awful nut allergy thing

#last time i ate at ihop i tried a different syrup #a: the strawberry was too sweet #b: pretty sure i reacted to the other ones #i have eaten there three times #when all three times have resulted in me having an allergic reaction it's safe to say it's the restaurant #also to be fair i've been a waffle house person since i was six years old so

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

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Safe House: Run Like Hell (pt.5)

Chaos breaks out.

As per usual, I would love feedback. I didn’t expect to write this character so for this, I’d love to know if anyone wants to see more.

You stand tipsily in the kitchen door as you watch the stranger dress. Your eyes linger on the dark tattoos across arms and chest as you sip cluelessly from the tall glass. You teeter on the high heels and stumble to set down the mostly empty cup.

He looks up as he pulls a dark tee over his head, fixing his hair as he scowls.

"What are you doing?" He hisses as he lifts the dark bag off the floor and unzips it.

"I should ask you the same," you slur.

"Goddamnit," he curses as he digs his hand into the knapsack, "I wish you weren't drunk right now."

You stick your tongue out at him tritely, "why?"

"Because," he pulls out a long barreled gun and checks the chamber, then the stock, "it's gonna make this harder."

"What the fuck? Why do you have a gun?" You nearly shout.

He hushes you as he tucks it into the waist of his pants and digs out ammo, shoving it in his jacket pocket, "quiet."

He motions with his hand and listens, brows furrowing. He hooks the bag over his shoulders and nears you.

"Take those things off," he nudges your shoe with his toe.

"Don't tell me what to do–"

His hand covers your mouth suddenly and pulls you against him, "quiet."

He traps you between him and the wall as he reaches to his belt. He pulls out the gun and angles it up, listening in the rustling silence of the city street outside. He looks at you and slowly peels his palm away, pressing his finger to his lips before pointing to your feet.

Startled by his abrupt shift in demeanour, you bend to undo your shoes and step out of them. He signals with two fingers and you hand him one. He leans back, staring over at the door, and lobs the heel at it.

As it hits the wood, the door splinters a silenced bullet blast through. You squeak as the stranger shoulders you behind him, "stay close."

He aims and shoots out the bulb above, casting the apartment into darkness, only paled by slats streaming in from the windows. He motions you towards them as his figure looms near the entryway. Metal hits on metal and the door creaks open, laughter ringing out sinisterly.

"Six…" the single syllable is drawn out, "you didn't think you could hide forever, did you?"

You recognise the voice, even without the music pounding in your eardrums. You stand, dumbfounded as the stranger, Six, keeps his aim at the end of the hall.

"Fire escape," he snarls.

You blink and finally get some sense. You quietly creep over to the window as footsteps start down the short entryway. Six ducks suddenly and a shot pierces the plaster, sending up powder just above his head.

"I know you're waiting for me," the other man sneers, "you come out now and I'll let the girl go."

Silence, no answer as Six stays low and backs up, waving you on.

"Or at least, I'll be gentle, wipe her tears away as I ruin her holes–"

Another shot, this time from Six.

"Fuck!" The intruder snarls, "fuck, that was a good one. Pretty fucking close."

The man's shadow looms, distorted as light peers in from the hallway behind him.

"But, like I said, I'm not that fucking stupid."

Something thumps on the floor and rolls onto the carpet. Six lowers his gun and races towards you, urging you to the window. The silhouette disappears as he rips the window open and shoves you out.

You fall over the sill as he sidles out behind you, a sudden blast knocking him off his feet and crushing you against the escape as he shields you from the force of it.

Your ears ring as you crumple beneath him, your chest tight as you can't draw in air. You touch your temples as you try to hear, paralysed as he tries to pull you up to your feet. He shakes off the explosion as he shouts at you, his voice dulled by the echoes of the boom.

He slings you over his shoulder and grips the rail, leaning on it as you bounce uncomfortably with his clattering steps. He staggers down the last few steps and turns, firing another shot as another pings off the metal escape beside you.

"Go," he says through the fog as he puts you down, "down the ladder."

You cling to the railing as your legs shake the jello, wobbly and weak. He pushes you against the wall as another shot tears by.

"Now!" He hollers.

You scramble onto your knees and squeeze through the opening as you latch onto the rungs. You feel as if you're falling, barely able to take each step down as he follows, nearly stomping your hands as he wastes no time.

"Hurry up," he snaps down at you but no shots come. He aims up as if expecting a bullet.

You drop down, a twinge in your ankle as a pebble stabs into your bare sole. He lands beside you, barely jarred by impact as he grabs your wrist and pulls you down the alley.

"Keep moving, sweetheart," he flings you ahead of him, "run."

"What–"

"Stop asking why and do what I fucking say," he growls as he checks his gun, "this asshole doesn't stop."

You gulp and obey, scurrying off as he follows, keeping an eye over his shoulder as he braces his gun. You rush down to the end of the alley and onto the street.

You turn without direction, not sure where to go. You could ask but he doesn't seem to know either. Down to the corner as he follows a few feet back, turning to aim every few steps, then trailing closer.

A car screeches up as you get to the curb and you stop short. A shot rings out, barely missing you and bounces off the black metal of the vehicle. A dark laugh as a barrel flashes from inside, a click in warning.

"Do it again, Six, and I won't hesitate to shoot through her."

"This isn't about her," Six calls back as you stand paralysed at the end of the mustachioed menace's barrel, "let her go."

The man scoffs and clucks, "nah, I don't think so." He wiggles his gun at you, "get in, sunshine."

You huff and puff as your adrenaline surges. You can't move. You sense Six looming as his shadow shifts and the other man tuts.

"Another move and you can scrape her off the sidewalk," he warns, "baby cakes, be a good girl and get in the fucking car."

You wince and glance back. There's a look of helplessness on Six's face you've never seen on him. He's always certain, always fearless. At least for those few nights you've been around him. A subtle nod.

You turn, slowly walking to the car and reaching for the door. Your feet are heavy, hands clumsy. You open it and lower yourself blindly.

"I'll find you," Six says but you're not sure if it's for you or the man in the driver's seat.

"Sure you will, stud," the man snickers, "close the fucking door, babe."

As you shut the door, the window rolls up and a bullet glances off it. He slams on the gas pedal, tires squealing as he speeds off down the dark street, a chuckle crackling in your ears.

"Oh, sunshine, you're about to have a whole lotta fun."

#sierra six #six #dark six #dark!six #six x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #the gray man #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #drabble series #series #safe house

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