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telvess · 8 months

Note

Headcanons for all the characters including Jack since it’s based on Hamlet watching The lion king with the reader. (the original animated movie not the live action remake.)

Record Of Ragnarok Characters x Reader watching together The Lion King (headcanons) 🔞

You know, I haven’t watched The Lion King in… well I watched it once when I was kid and that’s it. Mulan, Hercules and Tarzan were my movies. Anyway I ended up watching The Lion King again to refresh my memory.

Qin

A what? Are you involved? Then Qin would agree to do anything.

He’s like a big kid - chill and carefree, even more than usually. Both of you goof around, Mr. Emperor tries to sing without knowing words, popcorn flies around, you pause a movie in stupid moments to make him laugh etc.

You get a stomachache from laughing too much and Qin obviously has to get infected.

Just two morons have time of their afterlife.

The only moment when there is silence is when Simba loses his father. That scene just hits too close to home and remains Qin about Chun Yan. However he doesn’t let it bother him too much.

HAKUNA MATATA

You both loudly encourage lions to battle.

At the end he asks what other movies you like.

Jack

Because he isn’t familiar with the concept of love and how to express it, spending time with you is probably Jack’s way to show his affection. If you ask him to watch an animated movie together, he’d politely agree, even if it’s not his thing.

Expect tea. And cheddar apple pie.

Jack sees Simba’s journey as a lovely and naive story. Deep inside he does compare himself to that lion cub and wonders what kind of person he would've become if he had only received help from strangers. On top of that Jack actually killed his parents, so it’s odd to him to see how much Simba struggles with remorse over Mufasa’s death which wasn’t his fault.

Truth to be told Jack might mentions some quotes from Shakespeare IF you point out similarities between the movie and Hamlet. These resemblances aren’t very visible. But it may be enough to start an interesting conversation.

The ending of the story may seems a bit bitter to Jack. Whoever was meant to be good, stayed good, and whoever was meant to be bad - stayed bad. Kinda depressing outcome for a man who’s trying to change himself, right? You’d have to talk about it and remind that it’s just a simplification made for children.

Now it’s time for a cuddle session.

Loki

Do you really want to do this to yourself? You’re very naive if you expect to have a fun with this guy while watching this kind of movie.

At first it’s just boring to him, but after awhile he amuses himself by coming up with new ways to destroy the show. He makes a loud comment every time the opportunity arises. For example, there is a scene where Zaku tells young Simba and Nala that they’d be married one day, to which Simba replies: No way! She’s my friend! You can hear a loud snort on the side, followed by She’s your SISTER, dumbass!

Loud chewing.

Hey, y/n, do you know that once Simba becomes the king, he will have kids with every lioness? Even his mom?

Do they have to sing all the time?

DON’T YOU DARE mention that you can see a similarity between him and hyenas or forget about chips, popcorn, whatever you two are eating.

Phew! It’s finally over. Wanna do something funny, y/n?

Adamas

Childish entertainment but once he sees that your eyes get wet with tears, he quickly agrees.

A cheerful start bores him but except tactless way of sitting, he doesn’t do anything to ruin your fun.

Even if Mufasa’s death was expected, it still hits hard Adamas. Basically catches him off guard. It remains him about his last meeting with Poseidon: his brother’s pure contempt towards him, that dead, indifferent expression of his face when he pierced Adamas with his trident, then cold surrounding body and Poseidon’s back as he walked away. But while the movie continues, a new digression haunts Adamas. He plays that scene again in his head and it hits him harder, because he realizes that he almost became Scar to Zeus.

So now he sits stiffly on his ass with a very depressed expression. One look at him is enough for you to know that you have to pause the movie and talk to a guy. At first he rejects your attempts, but very quickly ends up letting you hug him tight. Still plays a tough idiot tho…

Beelzebub

Most of the time he just sits next to you with lifeless expression.

Hakuna matata his ass.

Beelzebub secretly enjoys when you sing, but it’s really hard to catch him with a smile on his face. If you manage to do so, he reluctantly admits it. Good luck with convincing him to join you.

He doesn’t have any deeper thoughts about the movie.

If you mention that Timon and Pumba remain you Samael and Azazel, Beelzebub would just give you a dull look. After awhile he starts to notice that too and has mixed feelings about it.

Hrist

She finds this idea very sweet. It’s relaxing and enjoyable.

When Scar kills Mufasa: RAGE MODE ACTIVATION!

Since then you sit with angry Hrist who really does not like phrase hakuna matata. She starts to hate Simba for being so thoughtless.

Screams SHUT UP every time they start singing.

When Simba lets Scar leave, Hrist in heat of the moment chokes you and loudly screams how dumb he is. You wonder if it can get worse and the answer comes very quickly - Simba fights Scar on the TV screen and you fight for every breath on a couch.

Hermes

Hermes approaches the movie from a different angle: he focuses more on a soundtrack. The movie itself is simple story with moral, standard for humans’ approval.

You both consider an improvement of some songs and probably start doing it in the middle of a movie. Sorry, Simba.

Ares

Ares doesn’t care much about Mufasa’s death - it's necessary plot twist to move on with thread… but the ending kinda touches him. It's very climatic in his opinion.

He is NOT crying, okay?

Well you are. Or you pretend very convincingly so he doesn’t have to play tough boy. He has no idea…

Hades

Because he is a gentleman, your wish would be granted.

It’s animated movie but Hades drinks wine. No cola, no popcorn or other snacks. Please, have some dignity.

Hades has weird uncomfortable feeling in his chest when Scar kills his own brother. Scene just awakes something he doesn’t like to mention: conflict between Poseidon, Adamas and Zeus. Hades never could bring himself to blame any of them for how things turned out, so now he doesn’t try to look too deep into Musafa’s murder.

Afterwards he would share his honest opinion with you, almost like professional critic.

Poseidon

No expression throughout the entire movie.

Scar is pathetic.

Mufasa is pathetic.

Simba is pathetic.

Timon and Pumba aren’t even worth mentioning.

That movie proves that humans are lower forms of life.

At least you have chance to hug Poseidon. If he spends time with you, it means he demands it.

After a movie: Y/n, such entertainment is unworthy of the gods.

Leonidas

Books are better than movies. But fine, if you insist, the King of Sparta would spare some time.

The best comforter: Why are you crying? It’s fiction! It’s not even human! By the way - that lion could kill you with a single paw swing. These mfs are huge! Better him than you, hon!

He smokes so much that you have trouble seeing the TV screen.

Stop couching, hon! I can’t hear what they’re sayin’!

The moment Pumba approach, Leonidas starts talking about his love for venison.

You need truly heroic self-denial to not kick him out. The only option to get him to shut up is to kiss him. He doesn’t get why the kiss is angry but he likes it that way.

You two probably miss the ending. Leonidas thinks Simba isn’t worthy of being king anyway.

Apollo

Ah, y/n, aren’t you adorable for loving such innocent enjoyment? Of course he agrees!

You have to feed him snacks.

He sings along with the characters and makes the movie much better. You end up watching him showing off instead of the movie. Your dirty side may bait off a bit more mature show.

He knows exactly what you're doing and doesn't mind at all.

Later you might catch him humming songs from the movie.

Hello, dear. May I be your king tonight?

Rudra

Simba’s and Nala’s childhood brings nostalgia. Rudra spent his entire youth with Shiva and they were both free spirits. Watching these lion cubs brings back many funny memories.

Rudra’s favourite moment is Simba’s reunion with Nala. He gets mad if he notices you smirking.

Parvati, Kali, Durga and Shiva

You decide it’s time for girls’ night out.

None of you is focus on the movie, it’s just an addition. You mostly talk and laugh. Very loud that it may attracts Shiva.

He just sits down between you with Whatcha doin’? then proceeds to eats all the popcorn and other snacks like vacuum cleaner.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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AITA for pointing out to my brother when his girlfriend treats him poorly?

I’m the older sibling to my younger brother, 24M, and his gf (I’ll be real I THINK she’s 23 but I don’t remember her birthday ) they’ve been dating for a few years and throughout it me and my mom whom I live with because I’m disabled have done our best to try to welcome her, even though she has done some hurtful things [she got angry at my mom while she was living here the first time and threatened to never let her see her grandkids, and the second time mom welcomed her into the home she ended up screaming at us both out of basically nowhere. She yelled at my mom because one of her fish was dying and took the opportunity to yell loud enough that I could hear her in my room with the door closed complain about my puppy whom I was still training. She yelled at me because she was in the room while I was trying to talk to my brother about something serious and mentioned her without trying to include her in the conversation, because it wasn’t meant as a dig and also because it was a passing mention of her name, not a full topic.]

Anyways. At this point they’ve moved out and my brother comes here to chat with us and check in every couple weeks. She forced them to move out before he’d been able to get a job and then asked him to immediately pay back his half of the lot rent and mortgage payment for their trailer the moment he got a job, which has him scrambling and exhausted trying to keep up because he’d been unemployed mostly at her request for months. She makes her living on OF, and he leaves the house when she’s working. We also suspect that she forced him to dump his dog back on us.

In addition to making him drive everywhere on his dime for gas, she also doesn’t want to chip in for repairs to the trailer, and when she has him take her to get groceries we know she doesn’t buy anything with his food preferences in mind. We know this because he comes scrounging for food he actually wants to eat from our fridge [which we’re happy to give him, but.. yeah. It feels shitty to know that he can’t get his own gf to buy him diced pear fruit cups or frozen chicken nuggets.]

So, I started calling out gently when something she does is mean to him. I don’t call him out directly or anything, but I do ask him why. Like, if he asked for grocery money, I’ve said “sure, I’ve only got a little extra rn is 30$ okay? Do you and [gf] not grocery shop together?”

To put it lightly, he doesn’t like this. But I’m afraid that if I pretend it’s normal he’ll get seriously hurt. I don’t know what else to do, besides try to gently make it clear that it’s just not okay to treat a partner the way she treats him.

Not to mention that through all this he has needed to beg money off me and my mom for gas and groceries and other necessities, and has at times used her credit card for non-emergencies and taken money from her accounts without asking. He doesn’t seem to see a problem with this, which also makes me worried. I love him to death and I don’t want to think that he’s become someone that cold.

Am I the asshole for trying to remind him that people who love you don’t do the things his gf does? Or am I wrong about this?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 1 year

Text

North To The Future [Chapter 2: The Distance]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, discussions of sex, discussions of drugs, discussions of murder, very indecent discussions in general, alcoholism, incompetent flirting, taxidermy, Taco Bell.

Word count: 5.3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @elsolario @meadowofsinfulthoughts @ladylannisterxo @doingfondue @tclegane @quartzs-posts @liathelioness @aemcndtargaryen @thelittleswanao3 @burningcoffeetimetravel @b1gb3anz @hinata7346 @poohxlove @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @travelingmypassion @graykageyama @skythighs @lauraneedstochill @darlingimafangirl

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

The answering machine beeps. “Bitch, pick up,” Heather says through the speaker. And then: “Bitch!!! Pick up!!!”

You dive for the phone on the kitchen counter. Your dad gets there first.

“Hey, Heather!” he booms cheerfully. He takes a bite of a gooey chocolate chip cookie and swipes crumbs from his beard with the back of his hand. Your mom, smiling and sly, sips her Earl Grey tea at the dining room table. “Yes, yes, well I am loath to remind you that I live here too. Uh huh. Okay. Did you want to speak to my daughter? Or were you secretly hoping to get me? I could tell you about my riveting mailbox renovation project. There’s also a cow moose that’s been coming around recently, she’s a princess, I got a big ol’ salt lick and put it out in the backyard for her. No, Heather, no, a cow moose is just a female moose. It’s not a new species or anything. Lord have mercy. Okay, here’s ladybug.”

He passes you the phone. You pretend to glower at him, not very convincingly. “Hi, Heather,” you say.

“I am mortified.”

“I wouldn’t beat yourself up about it. He was in the Marines, he’s probably heard worse.”

Your dad bellows: “I sure fucking have!” Then he guffaws in a baritone rumble as he meanders over to the table, polishing off his cookie. Your mom chuckles and shakes her head as she flips a page in the latest issue of Alaska magazine. There’s a salmon on the front cover. No points for originality.

“Anyway,” you tell Heather. “What’s up?”

“Are you finally going to go tonight?”

“Go where?”

You can hear the hopeful, baiting smile in her voice. “Ursa Minor.”

The bar. The bar Aegon asked me about. He came by the clinic yesterday afternoon to pick up Sunfyre and the Nova, that’s what Jen said; a work friend dropped him off and he dashed inside and left just as quickly. You had been busy in the exam room vaccinating Ms. Finnegan’s Saint Bernard—no Cujos allowed in your neighborhood—and thoroughly unavailable to socialize. Still, he hadn’t bothered to wait around to say hello. This bothers you. This bothers you a lot more than you wish it did. He doesn’t care about me, he doesn’t remember me, he’s too busy being a serial killer to talk to me, the possibilities are truly endless. You twirl the mint green phone cord around your fingers. “Umm…”

“You have to go,” Heather begs. “Everyone’s going to be there. Joyce, Kimmie, our whole clique from high school. And Trent! And Trent’s hot friends! He really wants to buy you a drink. Like really, really wants to buy you a drink. He’s been asking about you constantly since you moved back home. It’s pathetic, actually. Take pity on him. Let him spend his whole paycheck on your Bacardi Breezers, and then if you’re still not interested you can ignore him to your heart’s content. I wouldn’t blame you. I know he’s a dumbass.”

Trent. Heather’s brother is two years older than you and a peripheral figure of your life—like a comet that clips by Earth every few decades—for as long as you can remember. He even called a few times when you were at Colorado State for vet school. He’s tall and popular and buoyant, a long-haired former quarterback who took your high school to the state championships and still holds semi-legendary status in Juneau. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with him, nothing at all…except that Heather’s right. He’s kind of a dumbass. You don’t feel any particularly ardent yearning to see Trent, no gnawing curiosity. But if Aegon might be at Ursa Minor… “I do love Bacardi Breezers.”

“Yes, I remember,” Heather says, her words warm with the memories: her bedroom floor at 2 a.m. surrounded by Just Seventeen magazines and nail polish bottles, picnics on the summertime shores of Dredge Lake, your parents’ backyard on early-autumn nights illuminated only by the crackling firepit. She’s a thread woven through your life like a vein through flesh.

“Okay. I’ll go.”

“Booyah!” she hollers through the phone. “8:00?”

“8:00.”

“Wear something slutty.” And then Heather hangs up.

~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t wear something slutty. You wear a very uneventful chunky teal sweater. Aegon is dressed in a black crewneck sweatshirt, cuffed jeans, and Doc Martens combat boots. He’s sitting at the bar when you walk in, the bells on the back of the door jingling. Ursa Minor is drowning in an ocean of multicolored lights, tinsel, garlands, tiny ceramic Santas, at minimum three medium-sized Christmas trees; Dale must have gotten into the holiday spirit early this year. The taxidermy deer heads on the wall have ornaments suspended from their antlers. The whole place smells like pine and peppermint. Shania Twain’s Any Man Of Mine is piping from the stereo. You and Aegon exchange a microsecond glance as you hang your parka on the coatrack—there’s a girl perched on the barstool beside him, you recognize her from around town but can’t recall her name—and then you cross the room to join Heather in her booth.

“I don’t know what I expected,” she sighs defeatedly upon seeing your apparel. Heather is wearing low-rise jeans, a chainmail halter top, and no bra. She has arranged her hair with numerous butterfly clips.

“Wow, you’re basically JLo!”

“Wow, you’re basically retired.” She sips her Sex On The Beach and shoves an ice-cold glass bottle towards you, dewy with condensation and conveniently already opened. “I ordered you a Bacardi Breezer. I had to take a guess on which flavor you’d be in the mood for, I know it changes several times per minute. Is coconut okay?”

“Coconut is awesome.” You start chugging. You steal a glimpse of Aegon and his…friend? Girlfriend? Date? Booty call? Fiancé? Wife? She’s chatting away obliviously. He’s nursing a rum and Coke and staring at you with his bleary, black-ringed eyes. “How’s it going, Joyce?”

Joyce is nestled in the far corner of the booth and engrossed in a fantasy novel. There’s some hunk riding a horse on the front cover. “Hey,” she says without looking up. She flips a page.

“Do you want anything?” Heather asks her.

“Yeah, a lobotomy.”

You say to Heather, smiling: “If I’m retired, what’s Joyce?”

“Dead,” Heather replies. All three of you laugh. Then Heather props her elbows on the table and tinkers with her rhinestone choker so it can catch the Christmas lights, glittering and casting scintillations. “You like my new bling?”

“Oh yeah, it’s super, it’s off the chain.” You half-listen to her lament the lack of shopping options in Juneau—Ketchikan has a Walmart now, apparently, but that’s nineteen hours away—while conducting covert reconnaissance on Aegon and his unspecified companion. It is genuinely baffling that you care this much, but that doesn’t make you care less.

“Um, hello? Hellooooo? Earth to grandma? What the hell are you staring at…?” Heather twists around to see Aegon at the bar, very sloshed and very obviously still watching you. “Him?!”

“Do you know him?”

“I know of him. He works on the same boat as Trent. I’ve never really talked to him. But I’ve heard plenty of things. Very…intriguing things. Titillating things.”

“What have you heard?”

“The bottom line?” Heather grins, conspiratorial. “He’s a mattress.”

“A mattress…?”

“Good for sleeping on and not much else.”

This bothers you, it sends hot blood to your face and your stomach into freefall, though if asked you wouldn’t be able to articulate why. Heather notices and backpedals rapidly.

“I mean, he’s cute, I guess. If you’re into guys who look like they live in a dumpster and have scurvy. He sort of reminds me of Kurt Cobain…except I think the hair is real.” She gasps. “He could give you little Kurt Cobain babies! Cobainbies!”

“I don’t want his Cobainbies.” You down the rest of your Bacardi Breezer.

“You are kind of acting like you want his Cobainbies.”

Aegon says something to the girl beside him. You gaze at him morosely. “He’s a drunk.”

“Great, Alaska has one of the highest rates of alcoholism in the nation, he’ll fit right in.”

“He’s not staying.”

“Just because it won’t be a long time doesn’t mean it can’t be a good time.” Heather wiggles her thinly-tweezed eyebrows, then observes your lack of amusement. “Alright, forget it. I’ll shut up. I wouldn’t be your best friend if I wasn’t trying to help you get laid, you know.”

“Go help Joyce get laid.”

“I’d have better luck with Pope John Paul II.”

“Go help Kimmie get laid.”

“Kimmie’s probably getting laid right now.”

As if a demon summoned by a Ouija board, Kimberly Barbieri gusts into the bar. Every friend group has a Kimmie. She is dramatic and irritating and captivating, she is effortlessly carnal, she is forever regaling you with the volatile ebbs and flows of her love life and enlisting you in her schemes: who to ensnare, who to shun. The rest of you are the supporting cast of characters and have been essentially since kindergarten. You all pity her and yet are viciously envious of her.

“Ugh!” she huffs as she throws her Kate Spade bag down on the table. You, Heather, and Joyce peer up at her with anticipatory smiles. The main character has suffered a new development. Aegon tosses Kimmie a casual appraisal and then turns back to his rum and Coke.

“Yes?” Heather prompts.

“I’m so done with Brad. I mean, I’m really done with him this time. Our three month anniversary? And he takes me to Taco Bell? Taco Bell?!”

“As if!” Heather offers, urging her along.

“As if!” Kimmie echoes in vehement agreement.

“Was Brad aware of the aforementioned anniversary?” Joyce says.

“He should have been!”

“I love Taco Bell,” you say, purposefully incendiary. Heather winks at you. This is the game you’ve played since before you could spell your own names.

“Really?” Kimmie has one hand on her hip, the other gesturing erratically through the air. “You’d be happy if your boyfriend of three long months took you to Taco Bell? You’d be real fucking psyched about that? You’d be planning the goddamn destination wedding in Barbados?”

“Oh yeah.” You are stone-faced; you are the best at feigning earnestness. Joyce is biting back giggles from behind her book. “I would do some very unwholesome things to a man who bought me Cinnamon Twists.”

“Are you on drugs?” Kimmie says. “Are you smoking crack? Are you huffing paint? Have you turned into that kid with the LSD stickers that they warned us about in high school?”

You reply, deadly serious: “I’m just a slut for Cinnamon Twists.”

“I can’t talk to you right now. I need a beer.” And that’s something else that guys unfailingly love about Kimmie: she drinks beer. She flees to the bar.

Heather’s smile dies as her eyes drift to Aegon. She sips her Sex On The Beach meditatively. She asks you, her voice low: “You think he’s the Ice Fisher?”

“No,” you say immediately.

“Oh come on, he showed up right before the murders started happening, that’s a coincidence that bears discussion.”

“It’s not him.”

“And how could you possibly know that?”

You scramble for an explanation. “He’s not big enough,” you decide. “The Ice Fisher is someone who can throw a dead body over one shoulder and lug it for miles through the wilderness.” And that’s probably accurate, but it’s not the real reason you don’t think Aegon is a killer. You couldn’t put the real reason into words if you had years to work on it. At the bar, Kimmie is shamelessly flirting with Dale, who is your parents’ age and closely resembles Robin Williams when he was first rescued from Jumanji. Aegon imparts some final words to his companion and she leaves him, not entirely thrilled.

“How did you two ever cross paths?” Heather asks, mystified.

“He has a dog.”

“Oh, right, that makes sense.”

“Why is it so unbelievable that we might have bumped into each other once or twice in this oh-so-charming, close-knit little haven of a community?”

“Well,” Heather says. “Because you’re so freakishly smart and successful and mature and responsible, and he’s…” She smirks. “Definitely not any of that.”

You glance over at Aegon. He glances back. You both look away. “He’s not so bad.”

“You should go talk to him.”

“Is Kimmie somehow not enough entertainment for you?”

“Dayum, he’s watching you again,” Heather marvels. “You should definitely go talk to him. You know, if you’re totally sure he’s not a serial killer.”

“Should I really?”

“Yes.”

You consult with Joyce. “Should I really?”

Joyce speaks without halting her reading. “Yes.”

You look at Aegon. He gives you a teasing little half-smile. Are you gonna? That smile says. And as Kimmie is coming back from the bar, you go up to sit two stools away from Aegon.

“Dale, can I get an appletini?”

“Appletini?” Dale’s brow wrinkles with confusion. You may not be a frequent Ursa Minor attendee, but you know Dale reasonably well. He’s a casual friend of your parents and a familiar face at holiday parties, town events, and trips to the grocery store and post office. “No offence, ladybug, but what the hell is that?”

“An appletini,” you repeat, crushed. “I saw it on tv. It’s a new cocktail, it’s this neat bright green color, they have it in New York…and Los Angeles…and…and…”

“Do you know how they make it in New York and Los Angeles?” Dale asks.

“No,” you admit sadly.

“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Forget it. Just get me a mango Bacardi Breezer.”

“That I can do,” he says chipperly, pops the cap off, and slides the bottle across the bar to you. You take a swig.

Aegon chuckles. “Embarrassing.”

“What’s embarrassing?” you fling back, smiling despite yourself.

“Your drink of choice is a Bacardi Breezer, that’s really fucking embarrassing.”

“I like all the tropical flavors! It makes me feel like…” You close your eyes, momentarily dreamy. “Like I’m on a beach somewhere. Like I’m in some gorgeous, warm, exotic place.”

Aegon finishes his rum and Coke and spins the empty glass absentmindedly with one hand. Dale fixes him a new one. “Where’s your favorite beach? Besides that one.” He points towards the harbor. “That one doesn’t count. Nothing in Alaska counts.”

“Then I’ve never been to a real beach,” you confess.

“What!” Aegon gapes at you. “Never?!”

“Never. Not yet.”

“Jesus Christ.” He blinks dazedly and drinks his rum and Coke. He is profoundly, unmistakably drunk.

“Did you drive here?” you ask.

“Nah. I walked.”

“Stumbled, you mean.”

He grins, showing his teeth. “I crawled, like the rat that I am.”

“Maybe you should try being sober sometime.”

“I don’t do well when I’m sober.”

“You work like this?”

He shakes his head. “Just enough to take the edge off. I can’t lose my job. Then I’d be in real trouble.”

“Have you always been a…?” What’s a diplomatic word for alcoholic? Before you can make an attempt, Aegon understands what you mean.

“Since I was fifteen, yeah. More or less.” He shrugs and stirs his drink with the little plastic toothpick with a maraschino cherry speared on it; the ice cubes clink in the glass. He bites into the cherry and slides it off the toothpick with his teeth, chews it, swallows, licks the glistening red juice from his lips. “I’ve been better than I am now. I’ve been worse.”

“How much worse?”

“Why would you want to know that?”

I want to know everything about you. “No reason.”

He evades you. “How’s the mailbox?”

“Mid-renovation. My dad is making a new one that looks like a moose.”

“That’s cool of him.”

“He’s a pretty cool guy.”

“You like your parents,” Aegon says, as if this is something curious, noteworthy. “You get along with them.”

“Yeah.” You pause before continuing, not knowing what he’ll think of it. “I still live with them, actually.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Well, I mean, it makes sense for now, because I just moved back to Juneau over the summer, and their house is right next to the vet clinic, and my dad’s always there when I need advice, and I’m the only child and they’re sort of really attached to me and maybe I’ll start looking for my own place soon but I just figured that in the meantime—”

“Hey, Appletini,” Aegon interrupts, smiling. “I think it’s awesome that you like your parents.”

“Really?” you say, hopeful.

“Really.” He drains his rum and Coke. Dale hesitates; he doesn’t make another until Aegon thumps his empty glass against the counter, wordlessly demanding one. “Why didn’t you take some time off to travel after you finished vet school? California is just a quick plane hop from Colorado. You could have spent a week or two in one of those gorgeous, warm, exotic places you’re so enamored with.”

“I thought about it…but the scheduling didn’t work out. My dad was retiring from the clinic, I was taking over for him, it was more important for me to be here.”

Aegon seems to find this incredibly entertaining, like there’s some joke you aren’t in on. “You took over your dad’s business.”

“Yes, I did.”

He nods, strangely wise, his blue eyes on you. “And you’re kind of happy about that, but you’re kind of stuck too.”

Goddamn, isn’t that the truth. “You see a lot.”

“20/20, baby.”

You study him. His white-blond hair is tucked behind his ears, except for that one undomesticated lock that always seems to escape to rest on his cheek. His eyes are hazy and swimming yet intelligent, almost cunning. He’s staring right back. He’s studying you too. He’s beautiful, you think. He’s sad and funny and magnificent and ruined all at once. How is that possible?

“What were you gossiping about with your friends over there?” he asks, flicking his thumb towards the booth where Heather, Kimmie, and Joyce are currently gawking at you.

Sex, love, drugs, whether you’re a serial killer. “Taco Bell,” you reply.

The front door flies open and a boisterous gaggle of young men flood into Ursa Minor: flannel, cologne, cigarette smoke, heavy thuds of work boots. You recognize most of them. There’s Matt, and Rob, and Gary…and Trent. He spots you and beelines for the bar.

“Hey!” Trent greets you enthusiastically, flipping his lustrous hair out of his eyes with a toss of his head like a horse. Then he addresses Aegon. “Sup, bro?”

“Sup.” They bump fists. Aegon nearly misses.

“Congratulations on finishing vet school,” Trent says to you, beaming a bit too dazzlingly. “I don’t think I’ve really seen you since you got back. How are things? How are your folks?”

“Things are good. My parents are good. Everything’s good.”

“Good!”

“Totally.”

There is an awkward silence. An increasingly awkward silence. Trent is not deterred. “Can I buy you a drink or something? A Bacardi Breezer, perhaps?” His gaze drops to your nearly-empty bottle. “Um, another Bacardi Breezer, perhaps?”

“So Heather has been disclosing all my secrets.”

“I’m sure you still have some,” Trent replies, flirtatious. Aegon’s eyes widen as he gnaws on his plastic toothpick.

“That’s a tempting offer,” you say. “But I’m stopping myself at two drinks tonight. It is a Wednesday, after all.”

“Yeah, a Wednesday,” Aegon agrees, slurring. “What kind of loser gets wasted on a Wednesday?” Then he bursts out laughing and almost falls off his barstool.

“Definitely another time though,” you tell Trent. Like when pigs fly.

“Oh, okay, yeah. Sounds good. See you around.” And Trent, former football star extraordinaire, saunters off to join his friends at the pool table. There’s a massive bull moose head mounted on the wall right above it; it’s adorned with a red Santa hat. That Don’t Impress Me Much plays from the stereo.

Aegon leans over the counter. “Hey, Dale, would you happen to have anything that’s not Shania Twain? Please and thank you.” Dale grunts, then reaches beneath the bar to get his 6-inch-thick binder of CDs. He scans through the transparent plastic pages and eventually makes a selection. CDs, not cassettes. Very high-tech.

“So you go wherever you want to,” you say to Aegon. “Anywhere. Everywhere.”

“Just about, yeah.”

You gulp down the last of your Bacardi Breezer. And next comes your theory: “But you never stay longer than six months.”

He smiles sheepishly. “Exactly.”

“What happens if you stay in the same place for more than six months?”

“My ghosts start catching up with me. One ghost in particular.”

“Is that a metaphor, or…?”

“Oh, I love this song!” Aegon shouts, slapping his palm on the bar and then lurching out of his seat. You listen: it’s The Distance by Cake. He sings along loudly, out of tune. “The green light flashes, the flags go up, churning and burning, they yearn for the cup—”

“This song?! The NASCAR song?!”

“It’s not about NASCAR, it’s about a journey!” His hands reach for you but stop short. They hover in the space between you, open and inviting. “Sing it with me, come on. As they speed through the finish, the flags go down, the fans get up and they get out of town.” He holds up an index finger. “The arena is empty except for one man, still driving and striving as fast as he can. Let’s go, Appletini, sing it!”

“No way, not happening.” But the ice of your face has thawed and melted into a massive, flush-cheeked grin. People are staring as he staggers around the floor: your friends from their booth, his friends from the pool table, Dale from behind the bar, the assorted middle-aged locals from their tables cluttered with Budweisers and bar snacks: peanuts, pretzels, Chex Mix, mini bags of Utz chips.

“The sun has gone down and the moon has come up, and long ago somebody left with the cup, but he’s driving and striving and hugging the turns, and thinking of someone for whom he still burns.” Aegon claps his hands. “Sing it, sing it, sing it!”

You leap off your barstool and join him on the floor. “Yes!” Aegon cheers, pumping his fist in the air. Heather, Kimmie, and Joyce are shellshocked, their mouths hanging open. Who says you can’t be the fun, spontaneous friend on occasion?

You and Aegon sing together, stomping clumsily around the floor: “He’s going the distance, he’s going for speed, she’s all alone—”

“All alone!” Aegon adds, cupping his hands around his mouth like a bullhorn.

“—All alone in her time of need, because he’s racing and pacing and plotting the course, he’s fighting and biting and riding on his horse, he’s going the distance…”

You use your empty Bacardi Breezer bottle as a microphone. Aegon plays air guitar oddly realistically, his fingers scaling an imaginary fretboard. You are reminded of his jade green electric guitar, pummeled and unused and slumbering in his dreary apartment. He stays near you but never touches you, never even tries to. His hair shags over his eyes. His cheeks are pink, gleaming, healthy-looking. The song ends and you stand there together in the sudden quiet, still breathing heavily, your eyes on each other, planning out which places you would touch first if such a thing was in the cards.

At last, Aegon speaks. “You want to go to Taco Bell with me?”

“What, right now?”

“Yeah. Right now.”

“Okay.” After two Bacardi Breezers, you’re probably alright to drive, but you are not in the business of taking chances. Fortunately, there is another option. Juneau’s only Taco Bell is just a few blocks from Ursa Minor; you can easily walk there, and you’ll certainly be fine to drive after a half hour and some food. You fetch your parka off the coatrack. “Where’s your coat?” you ask Aegon.

“Captain Morgan keeps me warm.”

“You are unbelievable.” You leave him momentarily to say goodbye to your friends. They sit in the booth gazing up at you with stunned wonder. “I’m going to Taco Bell with Aegon. I probably won’t be back. I’ll drive him home afterwards.”

“Aegon…?!” Kimmie exclaims.

“It’s Greek.”

“Uh. Okay.” Heather’s words are halting. “Um…have fun, I guess? Use a condom. Be safe.”

“Yeah, don’t get murdered,” Joyce says.

“I don’t think he has the requisite hand-eye coordination for strangulation at the moment. But thanks for your concern.”

You pay your tab, collect Aegon from the bar—he’s guzzling down one last rum and Coke, wiping escaped drops from his chin with his knuckles—and walk with him under dim streetlights and infinitesimal stars to the glaringly florescent, green-red-yellow beacon of the Taco Bell. Aegon insists on paying. His bills are rumpled and stained. Five minutes later, you’re sitting in an otherwise empty dining room doling out menu items like Christmas gifts, the labeled wrappers crinkling: a Mexican pizza and tacos for Aegon, a Gordita and Cinnamon Twists for you, a Nachos Supreme to share, two large Mountain Dews.

“What’s your favorite beach?” you ask him as you eat.

“San Diego,” Aegon replies, drowning his Mexican pizza in hot sauce. “Sapphire water, golden sand, cliffs you can climb all over, sea lions everywhere. They’re adorable, they bark like dogs. But they’ll attack humans. Trust me, I know.” He sucks hot sauce noisily from his fingers.

You consider him, crunching on Cinnamon Twists. “So this is what you do. You get a girl in every city and leave as soon as you’re bored with her.”

He is amused, mischievous. “Are you applying to be my Juneau girl?”

“No. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“You’re half-right.”

“Which half?”

“The girls don’t usually last six months.”

“So more like two girls. Or five, or ten.”

Aegon smiles and says nothing. He shoves a loaded nacho chip into his mouth, never taking his eyes off you.

“You’ve told me a lot of things that don’t paint you in an especially flattering light,” you say. “Why?”

“I’m not honest with many people. Figured I’d try it out with you.”

“How’s it feel so far?”

“Not too bad, actually.”

Seconds tick by. The hushed lull—punctuated only by chewing and straw slurping—is not awkward at all. “You could stay, you know,” you say. “Here. In Juneau. Not forever, but for a while.” Long enough for me to figure you out. Long enough for me to decide what to do with you.

“No.” Aegon is resolute.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t,” he says, then pivots. “Besides, if I was going to stay anywhere it wouldn’t be freaking Juneau, Alaska. There’s nothing here. You have one decent bar, you have one Taco Bell. You don’t have a mall, or a movie theater with more than three screens, or an arcade, or a Barnes & Noble, or a halfway decent beach…for Christ’s sake, you don’t even have a friendly neighborhood scam psychic with a neon sign in their living room window.”

You’re smiling. “So that’s something you’re into. Scam psychics.”

“I’m just saying it adds to the ambiance.”

“Okay, but anyone could do that. I’ll be a scam psychic, there, boom, that box is checked.”

He chuckles, incredulous. “Oh really? You? Reading palms and tarot cards?”

“Yeah, totally. Give me your hand.”

He lays his left hand flat, devouring a taco with his right. Shredded lettuce rains down onto the table. “This is going to be good.”

You trace the lines of his palm with your fingers, skimming them like a whisper. His fingertips are calloused, you notice. Goosebumps rise up on his arm. “Hm. Hmmmm. Yes, yes, I can see many things.”

“Tell me, oh clairvoyant Madame Appletini.”

“Your liver is sad.”

He explodes into laughter, pushing his hair back from his forehead with his right hand. “Truly a singular insight.”

“And! You love dogs because they don’t judge you for your many shortcomings.”

“Right again. Okay you only get one more, you’re cutting close to the bone here.”

You draw a feather-light circle around the perimeter of his palm. He shifts in his seat, watching you, abruptly serious. “You’re not the Ice Fisher. And it hurts you that people think you are, because you’re actually—somewhere underneath all that disturbingly delinquent, self-destructive behavior—kind of a decent guy. In fact, you’ve never hurt anybody.”

“Wrong.” He snatches his hand away and changes the subject. “Here, here, let me do you.” He motions to your left arm. You oblige him, stretching it across the table. He begins by massaging your palm, kneading it with both hands. You are suddenly warm all over, feverishly warm. Then he cradles your hand in his and inspects the lines of your palm, his thumb gliding weightlessly over them. “You possess a supernatural sense of responsibility. This is both a blessing and a curse.”

“That’s probably accurate. Aim for a more shallow observation next time.”

“You would marry a Cinnamon Twist if you could.”

You giggle, almost inhaling a mouthful of Mountain Dew. “Yes, totally. I would take it to Vegas. Elvis impersonator and everything.”

“Now this,” he says, pointing to a crease that cuts your palm in two. “This is fascinating. Groundbreaking. Revolutionary.”

You lean closer. “What does it say?”

Aegon is still clasping your hand, but his eyes are fixed on yours. They are groggy yet bright, so bright. He is smiling. “You want me so fucking badly it’s eating you alive.”

Your jaw falls open, but you don’t say anything. Neither does Aegon. You just stare at each other from across the table, not hearing the wind outside, not feeling the time passing. He’s right, you realize; it dawns on you like a dream remembered from the night before. I think he’s right.

Someone clears their throat. A Taco Bell employee has approached the table with a broom in one hand and a dustbin in the other. He is wearing a psychedelic striped shirt: lavender, aquamarine, pink, white. He looks sick of life. “Hey, we’re closing the dining room in five minutes.”

“That’s fine,” Aegon says nonchalantly. He drops your hand and starts in on his last taco. “We were just leaving anyway.”

Carrying your half-full cups of Mountain Dew, slurping and chatting about the attributes of Juneau, the two of you wander back to Ursa Minor without acknowledging what Aegon said. You drive him home through a sea of cold, black nothingness, everything beyond the Jeep’s windows silent and still. His apartment building is only a few minutes away from the bar. The ride ends much too soon. A lyric from The Distance is wheeling around in your skull: In his mind, he's still driving, still making the grade. She's hoping in time that her memories will fade.

“How’s Sunfyre?” you ask, your Jeep idling outside his apartment. You are genuinely concerned, but also making conversation so he won’t leave yet.

“He’s great. Want to come up and see him?”

You almost say no, because of all those cautionary tales women are told from childhood about men, strange men, drunk men, too-kind men, all men: that they’ll get you alone and off-guard and then they’ll paw at you begging for things you don’t want to give. They’ll lull you into a false sense of security—compliments, feigned vulnerability, hot chocolate, Taco Bell—and then strike like lightning, quick and flare-hot. But when you say yes and follow him upstairs, Aegon doesn’t try anything. He stands in his tiny, drab living room with his hands in his jeans pockets, a whisper of a smile on his face, just watching you as you check Sunfyre’s stitches and tease him about his cone and scratch his soft floppy ears. Sunfyre wags his tail and then rolls over on the scuffed hardwood floor so you can rub his belly.

“He’s in heaven,” Aegon says.

“Yeah, dogs really like me.”

Aegon drags his hands through his strange silvery hair, staring at the wall. “So do alcoholic Greek guys.”

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon x you #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen x you

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kakusu-shipping · 3 months

Text

Red House

A wayward children self insert fanfic, part 1

In which you get to meet our hero and our villain before the story's even began

This is a story that does not necessarily need to be told. But no story needs to be told. They want to be told, wish to be read, and yearn to be adored.

This is a story you've heard before, set in a place you've been.

A little boy, not yet calling himself Emile, and truthfully not yet a little boy, but not quiet a little girl either, runs as fast as his feet will carry him across broken blacktop on a cool autumn day.

He'd just gotten off the school bus, and had gone home just long enough to empty his backpack of books and homework and refill it with toys and snacks. Then he was back out the door and running before his older brothers could ask him where he was off to, or worse yet, follow him.

The trailer park they lived in overflowed with kids coming home from the nearby school, and his house in particular overflowed the most. Five kids and two full time working parents rattling around in a three bedroom home of plastic and kindling was suffocating at times, especially when you were the smallest.

So the boy, not yet a boy, ran from the after school fights and arguments before they started, quickly ducking between bramble bushes at the mouth of the woods circling his home, and slid down a muddy hill that'd yet to dry from the rain two weeks ago.

"MIKEY!" He called, twisting down a well troded path through the woods until he came upon a makeshift house of plywood and garbage left to rot and ruin the forest around them.

Another little boy, littler than the not yet a boy, with thick glasses and short cut black hair, sat within the makeshift home, doing homework on a metal garden table with a half broken glass top.

"Emile," The smaller boy did not say, but for now we shall assume he did, "You could have just gotten off on my stop if you were gonna run straight here anyway."

The littler boy who's name was not Mikey, but instead Micheal, lived in the same trailer park as Emile and his many brothers, just up the street infact, a single stop earlier than Emile.

Unlike the older he did not go home before making the trip into the woods, because even if he had the door would have been locked, with a note from his foster parents saying they would be out until late, and to play outside for the day.

"Yeah, I COULD have, but then we wouldn't have anything to eat." Emile proclaimed as he shoulded his backpack off and dumped it's contents onto the tiny garden table. Some things tumbled through the hole in the table's top or over the edges and spilled onto the floor.

Great Value brand chips in single serving bags and Hug juice barrels and a single Great Value Swiss Roll pack with two chocolate rolls inside, a feast for the kings of the woods.

Micheal immediately shifted through the menagerie of snack foods, landing on a bag of almost cheetos and a blue hug juice which he opened by stabbing through the thin foil with his pencil. "Doesn't your mom get mad when you take too many snacks?"

Emile shrugged as he picked up a red hug, stabing into the foil with his sharp canines before sitting in an old tire with a blanket thrown over it, "Yeah, but she'll never know it was me. My brothers always eat more than we're supposed to anyway."

Micheal nodded and returned to his homework, his legs dangling from the green painted metal garden chair they'd found along side the broken table, supposedly thrown out together. If one was broken, they both were in the eyes of the original owner, making them both worthless.

"What're you working on?" Emile shifted in his spot, grabbing one of the stuffed animals he's packed in his bag that had tumbled out among the snacks.

"Fractions," Micheal answered without looking up, using his spare hand to dig into his not-cheetos bag, "Did you bring your homework? I'll do it for you if you want."

Emile let out a loud sigh, "Noooo, I dumped my bag out to quickly and left it at home. You woulda been bored anyway, it's just multiplication."

Micheal and Emile were the same age, but not the same grade. Though Micheal was far behind in the height department, he was a brilliant mind. He'd skipped from 2nd to 4th grade at his last school, which actually put him ahead of the 5th graders when he moved this past year. Sense he moved in the middle of the year he was currently stuck in Emile's class during the school day, but was doing 5th grade level lessons as homework to prepare to take the Finals at a 5th grade level. His teachers tell him if he does well enough on the final at the end of the year he can go into middle school next year.

Many people looking in would think what a brilliant and talented child, how amazingly lucky he was to be born so smart, and they wouldn't even be half right.

Micheal was a genius yet, but not because of luck, or genetics, or some invisible disability he'd yet to be diagnosed with. Micheal was smart with purpose, with intent to blast through school. The less years he had to spend learning basic division and decimal placement the better, because as soon as he was done with school he could get a job, and as soon as he could get a job, he could buy his own house, and as soon as he could buy his own house he could have his own key, and never ever be locked out to "Go play outside :)" ever again.

He can't be forced to move if he owns the house, he can't be restricted dinner if he made the dinner, he won't have to sleep on the couch or even the floor some nights because there were guests over who needed a bed more. His house, his rules.

Yes, Micheal was smart, smart enough to know his life wasn't fair, and it would never be fair, and it was up to him to tilt the unbalanced scale in his favor, and up until this year he'd planned to do so all on his own.

"So I'm thinking red."

"Red?" Micheal looked up from his homework to Emile, his first friend sense Kindergarten, sense all the moving, sense being the new kid three times in one year.

Emile sat up and smiled as he turned a notebook he'd had stashed in his tire chair to face Micheal, a crude drawing of a house done fully in red crayon sat squarely in the middle. "Red." He smiled confidently, the dye from his hug juice had colored his upper lip almost as bright as the poorly drawn house.

Micheal placed his pencil down and took in the house. Fully red, with four windows in the front with a round door perfectly in the center. There was even a window in the triangle that made up the roof, implying an attic. The yard was green with a crude version of a brown dog and a purple cat standing on either side of two people holding hands in the center, one with black hair and thick glasses, and the other in a triangle dress with long yellow hair.

Micheal nodded

"I like red."

#Emile's Writing #Wayward Children #Self Insert #Self insert fanfiction #Micheal Bleak #Me? Writing Micheal Bleak backstory fanfic? Nooooooo #Maybe.#Youngest of far too many siblings 🤝 Foster Care kid who keeps getting bounced from house to house #'We should get our own house where we can make the rules'#Anyone else grow up making plans with your friends to live together in the future platonically?#That is ALL I did #This is my MOST self indulgent fic series yet #Because this is a book self insert #But some people HAVE read this book #BTW THIS IS CANON DIVERGENT #We'll get there when we get there but like #It's more than JUST Micheal Bleak backstory #Me in the woods surrounded by Tetanus literally every day #God I wanna go out and find my old fort kfdjgkdfg #No clue where it is the woods have changed #But I wanna go anyway...

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spaceorphan18 · 1 year

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Scenes From December 1/24

Written for Klaine Advent 2022. Day One: Team.

***

December, 1993

Liz Hummel leaned against the archway connecting the dining room from the living room. She kept her arms folded securely across her chest - the old house was a bit drafty, even when full of people, but in truth, she always felt a little out of her element when visiting Burt’s family. Most of her family remained on the east coast, and for so long it was just her and her mom that the first time she visited the Hummel household, full of its unruly and rambunctious holiday traditions, it felt somewhat overwhelming. Of course, since then, she had been fully indoctrinated into Hummel traditions, and the busyness of the household didn’t feel so alarming. Still. She wished she had brought her glass of wine out from the kitchen.

The Christmas atmosphere swirled around her. The living room wasn’t well lit, only a few lamps in the corners omitting an orange glow, each one decorated with red and gold tinsel. A slightly too big pine tree had been shoved into the far corner, its ornaments awkwardly hanging from its branches as the lights around it sputtered blues, reds, and greens. There still weren’t presents under there yet - the actual Mrs. Hummel, Burt’s mother, didn’t want the dogs to get into them, and kept them away until Christmas Eve. There was a wreath hung around the giant, wooden cut of Ohio that read ‘Ohio Means Home’ that always hung on the wall. And on every surface were figurines - some of angels, some of Santa and his elves, and one of a porcelain nativity scene that sat on top of the piano.

Burt sat on his parents’ couch - his dad and two uncles squished next to him as all of them stared intensely at the television. There was a football game running on the TV. Who was playing, she couldn’t say. She only knew it wasn’t a team from Ohio, and didn’t understand why they were still loudly passionate over third downs and missed field goal attempts of teams they didn’t usually care about. Why not just root for whatever team is winning - she once joked to Burt, much to his chagrin. That made the most sense to her, anyway.

Sitting in front of the coffee table was Burt’s brother Andy, trying to teach his younger cousins how to beat a level on some game they were playing on their Game Boy. Occasionally, the girls would get a little overzealous, wanting to play for themselves, and knock into the coffee table, knocking the bowls of chips, dip, vegetable tray, and beer cans nearly on the floor. None of the adults near them seemed to notice - too engrossed in the game, but Liz knew at some point, there would be a spill to clean up.

Over at the piano, Burt’s sister Christine was clunking away at jingle bells as her new boyfriend tried to sing along. He wasn’t musically inclined at all but Christine still grinned up at him fondly as she played. It reminded Liz, slightly, of when she and Burt started dating back in college, and she would often break out into a song from her favorite musical. Burt’s face always turned a delightful quizzical when she did that - it made her love him even more.

A bit of laughter floated from the kitchen. Her mother-in-law’s distinctive laugh. The kind of laugh that only happened this time of year when she allowed herself a few more glasses of her favorite wine. Liz craned her neck to see the women in the kitchen, Mrs. Hummel deep in one of her infamous stories, keeping Burt’s aunts entertained as they stirred and chopped and peeled dinner. The only odd one out was the second wife of one of Burt’s uncles, who didn’t always see eye to eye with the rest of the family, but even she was grinning as she washed dishes.

Liz’s attention turned back to the living room, back to the old, ragged lounge chair that sat in the far corner of the room. Burt’s grandfather was there, looking comical in the Santa hat someone had lazily placed on his head. On his lap was her seven month old child, her little Kurt. Even through all the commotion, she could hear Kurt’s happy laughter as Burt’s grandfather leaned forward, letting Kurt try to grab at the white, fluffy ball at the end of the hat; his chubby arm not quite able to reach it.

Endeared, Liz made her way across the room, pushing the ottoman out a little so she could sit on it. “Having fun?” she asked, taking a moment to rub her son’s back. Kurt didn’t usually take to new people all that well, but he seemed genuinely comfortable sitting on his great-grandfather’s lap. He gave his mother a comforted look then tried for the white ball again.

It was good to see Burt’s grandfather smile so grandly. Burt had told her how worried his mother was about him. How hard he had taken it when his wife died last year - the pain of which surely hadn’t gone away. But with a sweet baby on his lap, the gentle man that Liz had only recently gotten to know, the one who reminded her a lot of her husband, came back alive.

“Well, we’re both going to be upset later since we’ve both missed our naps,” Burt’s grandfather joked. He bounced little Kurt on his leg, Kurt breaking out into giggles. “But it’s good to be with family.”

Liz nodded silently, as she reached out a hand to grab Burt’s grandfather’s hand.

There was a lot of love in this home, even at its most chaotic. And even if she wasn’t born a part of it, even if she was still overwhelmed by what a foreign experience it seemed, she could see the love. And that was what mattered.

“Who names a baby Kurt anyway?” he asked in his playfully gruff voice.

Liz grinned. “Well, Burt did insist on naming him after you.”

#klaine advent 2022 #s.o. writes things #glee fic #eventual klaine fic #if you don't see where this is going well -- it's me...

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cattoy4ever · 2 years

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Part Two: Who Was Matthew Warren?

Chewing at my fingertips, I was seconds away from giving up on my Facebook investigation. What kind of multi-millionaire rich guy doesn’t have ANY close friends or family? At the very least, business executives he’s met in the past? I checked all of his social media, nothing. So I tried seeing if he had anything on the public record. After going through multiple pages of google, I finally stumbled onto The Autobiography of Matthew Warren: Future billionaire!, it was really just a pathetic blog with no likes and 2 random followers.

I scrolled all the way to the bottom and read every. Single. Entry.

Basic descriptions of his childhood, where he grew up, his family, and weekend plans. That was until 2 months ago, where he stopped mentioning his family completely. He posted less and less leading up to his death date. And when he did, it was very vague and generic posts. His last post was 4 days ago, 2 days prior to his death.

“The Truman Show is the best movie to watch on a cold rainy day! It was a movie I discovered recently but apparently it’s not well liked by my friends and family! Anyways, if you’re reading this I recommend you give it a watch and come back to me. Thank you! Good night, America.”

Another bust post, no clues. But he did mention his mother is a school teacher, meaning I can find the school’s database and hopefully get in touch with her. I could find out more information about Warren and if she knew anything about his death.

I did just that and rang up her number.

“Hello, who is this?”

“Hello ma'am, are you Shelly Warren?”

“This is she.”

“Okay, my name is Nancy Whitlock and I’m calling in concern for your son Matthew.”

“I don’t have a son.”

“... you aren’t related to Matthew Warren?”

Click

“H-hello? Bitch.” I hissed and threw my phone. She was my only chance at contacting his family, I couldn’t find anyone else’s phone numbers. I sank into the Motel bed. Just then, my phone rang and I scrambled to pick it up.

“Hey Nance”

Micheal.

“What do you want, Mike?” I snapped back.

“I’m really sorry for our argument back there. I didn’t mean to offend you, I just got worried. And I want you to know that’ll always be there for you no matter what you’re going through-”

My screen lit up with another call from an unknown number. I itched, it could be related to the case.

“So please just let me know if somethings bothering you or if there’s anything I can do to help you”

“Yeah yeah mike” I hushed, “love you too bye”

“Wait but I-”

I switched calls and let out a sharp exhale.

“Hello?”

A timid soft woman’s voice responded, “are you the girl who tried to call my mom?”

“Yes. Yes! I’m her and you are?”

“I’m Matt’s younger sister, Bailey. Um, I wanted to talk to you about my brother. Can I see you tomorrow morning at 9 AM? I live at 3028 WestBurrow Dr?”

“Wow oh wow that would be wonderful” I chuckled breathly, silently thanking god I picked up.

Her house was just as depressing as her voice. A sad baby blue, molded chipped white fence, and viens sprawled up the sides. My gut was telling me to run away, she could be a serial killer and I’m just walking right into her house.

But when she greeted me, all thoughts of her being a killer dissolved from my mind. Large tender eyes stained with dark circles, messy uncombed hair, and a very ragged robe stood before me. I suddenly felt less guilty about wearing the same work clothes from yesterday.

“Please, please come in. I’ll make you some tea.”

Her house was cluttered with useless junk. She was in the kitchen talking to me as I took a personal tour around her home. An entire wall littered with cut out newspaper clippings regarding her brother's death. All saying the same thing, natural causes.

“Would you like jasmine or chamomile?”

Tracing a photograph of Warren with my finger, “Jasmine is fine.”

“Heh, my mom thinks I’m a total nut. I was over at her house when she got the call and had to beg on my knees for her to hand over your number”

Sitting down now, she kept her face close to the mug like she was freezing despite it being a warm day.

“I mean what perfectly healthy 30 year old’s heart just stops going? And a closed casket? It was a heart attack for god’s sake. Why would that be necessary?”

Pulling out a notepad I began my series of questions, “Tell me, what was Mr Warren like?”

She chuckled and smiled to herself, “Oh Matt was the best older brother anyone could ask for. He had large dreams of becoming a billionaire and spending it on his family. Total family man. He loved movies and writing, despite having this always-work grind mindset.”

“Family man, you say?” Bailey nodded, still smiling, “But he isn’t following any of his family members? Not even you?”. Bailey’s smile morphed into a soft frown.

“Yes it is true, he blocked all of us months ago.”

“Why? What changed?”

Bailey’s chest puffed up and sighed deeply, “A couple months ago he kinda lost his mind. He would stay awake all night for days near the front door with a baseball bat, changed locks 5 times, anytime we went out to a restaurant he would insist on sitting somewhere that faced his back to the wall so he could observe the entire diner. That was barely even the surface of his anxieties. I mean he’s always been a paranoid person but this is a different level.”

Mike’s words replayed in my mind and I did my best not to seethe.

“But what made him block all of you?” I repeated.

“Well, we confronted him about his paranoia and he said that he was being followed. That he knew too much information but refused to elaborate for ‘our own safety’. We all got in an argument and he said some things that permanently severed his relationship with mom. He then said that if he ends up dead, he’ll be on our conscious and left. Guess he wasn’t wrong about that.”

The silence was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

“What do you think happened to him?” My voice cut through the silence like a bullet causing Bailey to jump slightly.

“I dunno, I think he was murdered. By someone… some people. I mean he told us himself, what else is there to think?”

“Your family?”

“My dad says his paranoia made his heart give out and my mom is in complete denial of the whole thing. Even mentioning his name is enough to cause a meltdown. I’m the only one fucking doing anything, but it all leads to nothing. Sure he was murdered, but that’s where it ends. Checked with the phone company and all it was was business calls.”

My tea's gone cold.

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tragedienes · 1 year

Text

* mike’s mic vc * new character(s) alert! info for heidi, joaquin, and traci.

heidi lynn allshouse. 34. meteorologist for kllr abc10 fresno-encantadora, mostly for the daytime broadcasts. a self-proclaimed sneaky bitch. worked very hard to get to where she’s at, spent years doing the early morning show and getting up at two am to make to the studio by four (now she gets to sleep in!) until it nearly made her have a breakdown. now she’s got her eyes set on the primetime spot, which she deserves, then chief meteorologist after that. enjoys the attention she gets for her looks, checks the small subreddit dedicated to posting bikini pics from her instagram almost nightly. not always a sneaky bitch, though, especially when it comes to her younger half-sister, kirsty. a control freak obsessed with success, she’s got a problem with being happy with what she’s got. seems to always be getting engaged and then breaking it off. thinks her dependence on wine is cutesy facebook meme stuff, not unrecognized alcoholism. sometimes a total type a nightmare, sometimes the best person to have in your corner.

* introspection. heidi allshouse. / * narrative. heidi allshouse. / * visage. heidi allshouse.

joaquin bonifacio velásquez de luna. 21. prospect of the cucuys mc. grew up in encantadora, california, where his father was a member of the club. shortly after his older brother was patched, their father was killed in an atf shootout and mom decided to take her youngest and get the hell out of dodge (leaving alejandro back, as he chose the club over moving). spending most of his teenager years in puerto peñasco, mexico where his mother grew up, joaquin has recently cut the apron strings and come back to encantadora with one mission: join the cucuys. having his father die wearing a kutte, and his brother being a fully patched member (and his sponsor), joaquin, mostly referred to as cariño within the club, has a very long road ahead of him before he can actually call himself a cucuy... which basically means he’s got a huge chip on his shoulder, and just about everything to prove. mostly cocky, sometimes sweet. thinks joining the mc will make him a man and his late father proud, but is quickly finding out the shit they do is a whole lot darker than motorcycle enthusiasm.

* introspection. joaquin velásquez de luna. / * narrative. joaquin velásquez de luna. / * visage. joaquin velásquez de luna.

traci deonna roebuck. 32. fish and wildlife agent. pretty much exclusively rereferred to by her last name, due to working in a male dominated field and growing up on a ranch, but those close to her call her tee. kind of a hard ass because she needs to be, though her friends and family are quite familiar with her vulnerable side. some might describe her as humorless, but that’s more of a defense mechanism than anything else; bitches get stuff done, after all. kind of a loner. spent most of her life around horses on her family’s ranch in wyoming. an avid equestrian and former rodeo queen, roebuck feels more at home camping out in the mountains with her horse than in some city. even though she’s in her thirties, she still lives at home on the ranch with her father and grandfather, her mother having passed away during traci’s birth. she tries not to get entangled in relationships, especially not with fellow wildlife agents, but somehow manages to fall in love anyway. a certified horse girl™️ and total nature nerd.

* introspection. traci roebuck. / * narrative. traci roebuck. / * visage. traci roebuck.

#* introspection. heidi allshouse.#* narrative. heidi allshouse.#* visage. heidi allshouse.#* introspection. joaquin velásquez de luna.#* narrative. joaquin velásquez de luna.#* visage. joaquin velásquez de luna.#* introspection. traci roebuck.#* narrative. traci roebuck.#* visage. traci roebuck.

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el-lotoblanco · 2 years

Note

I smile at the sight of the new paper, laughing softly at some of his words, mostly the sentence about Aurra.

I'm so glad to talk to him. To hear his voice in my head with these new words, words of love and encouragement.

I let my annoyance over this week shine through with the letter, sure to write it in Huttese again. Zip even picked me up some new paper, as a gift.

Vader.

I’ve had it. I’VE HAD IT. This BABY can be OUT NOW!!

SOMEhow the child turned during the night. Not only did the fucker hit my bladder and make me wet the bed, but my tummy has grown. :(

I’ve decided that I like holding a baby in me, but I don’t like it being visible. It’s also heavy. I never realized that pregnant women have their arms around their stomach’s to hold the wight of the babe. It’s a damn workout, I’m telling you.

Sorry this letter took longer; I’ve been very tired this week. Zip, the cutie, has been taking very good care of me. Though, I see the worry in his eyes and I’m sad that he has to worry about me like this. He’s so young to have to fear me leaving him due to childbed.

I am… incredibly jealous you have a puppy. I can’t really afford to have one due to food intake, or I totally would. Maybe a service dog to pick up my shoes for me since I cant fucking bend down. It’s YOUR fault. Bastard. Anubis is adorable, though. I really enjoyed seeing the photos and yes, your palace is beautiful. The VOGUE ‘welcome to my home’ interview you did two days ago made me laugh. And, like always, the baby kicked to your voice. Oh! I’ve decided the baby is a boy. He’s a gentle baby though. He kicked me rather hard yesterday and the sweet little thing sent me a sad tap in the Force, like he knew he hurt me. I love him.

Jaspar sounds like someone I’d have a hard time warming up to, especially like this. As in, mother x 10 because there’s hormones pumping through my body. Can you tell I’m really annoyed with pregnancy this week? Being on bedrest has really pissed me off..

Get that thought of the boys wanting to live like Cut and Suu out of your head, you know they’d grow bored within a week and itch for some action. Hunter is, anyway. He went after a bounty hunter this week. Speaking of Hunter, please tell Crosshair that Ashoka has been telling lies about him, too. Said Cross was never chipped, that he abandoned Hunter on purpose.

You shouldn’t let the guilt drown you, it’s not your fault. I spoke to Ben, told him that I did not believe what he told me. He came clean, broke down over the comm. He says he’s so sorry and he misses us – both of us – more than anything. He yearns for Cody.

You ask to know more about Zip, so I shall tell you about this sweet boy living with me. He’s from a small village, grew up with a mom and four (4!) sisters, all younger. He’s thirteen and the fastest runner I know. I think I would like to send him to boarding school on Coruscant when he’s fifteen, in two years. He deserves to go to high school with other kids. He’s with me now because he’s had a very tragic few months. Imp’s invaded his village and he ran with his eldest sister, she was ten. The other three were not found and his mother did not make it. I’m hoping someone took the girls in, but we haven’t found them yet. The little sister he took with him fell ill a month later, there was nothing he could do.

He's a good boy. He makes dinner and he’ll bring me water and heat up rice for my back. I’ve made him a bed in the baby’s room and he’s admitted to me that he’s excited to be an older brother again. He thinks it’s selfish to move on from his sisters, but I assured him that it’s not moving on, it’s just letting your heart love one more person. He needs someone and I’d never leave him behind.

I cannot stress how embarrassed I am to show you and I’m half tempted to never show you, but I figure you are at least owed this. I’ve included a photo of me and the baby bump, and a photo of Zip and I. Oh, his name isn’t actually Zip. It’s Zacceus, Zach for short. Aren’t his curls the cutest?

With love,

Lili

After two straight hours of crying over the photos you sent, Vader finally finds it in himself to write you back. Turns out your beautiful face is still all the motivation he needs to get things done.

Lili,

As you said about Jas, I believe it will take me some time to warm up to Ben, should he ever try to come back. He broke me. He broke us. And he broke Cody, by doing this to me. That is something I cannot easily forgive. Though I do find myself wondering, almost every single day, how Cody decided so easily to be on my side after loving Ben so much for all these years. I truly don't understand, but of course, I am always grateful.

I'm simply having the best day now that I've received these photos of you. My gods, you are so beautiful. And your bump... I wish I was there to hold it up for you. Ask Zip if he would, sometime. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. He seems like a wonderful kid and hearing his story makes my heart ache. He's lost... so much... yet he manages to wake up everyday and be a kind person. How does one do that? How does one face trial after trial and still decide, at the end of each day, that they will treat people with love the next day. And the day after that. I think I will have a lot to learn from this kid. You're right, his curls are cute- and Zacceus! What a unique name!

I spoke to Crosshair this morning about your Ahsoka news. He's... not surprised, but he's certainly hurt. I could tell he was confused as to why Hunter would believe her anyway- but I told him she probably made up some sort of text chain or call log to 'prove' she was reaching out to him and/or us. He's getting worse by the day... I fear that he'll do something that will leave all of us broken. I don't know what to do, Lil. I don't know how to help. How can I help him? How did you get him to trust you so much? He's not eating as much as he should, and his heart health is declining again. This place is killing him. I'm killing him. But I can't fix it. I try every single day and seem to make no progress...

This letter must end on a happy note. Because I said so. I'm terribly excited that you think our baby is a boy- and even more excited that he seems so compassionate already. I was thinking... perhaps a name like Lukka? Or Luca, more universally? I'm sure you know what it means. If not, well... shame on you, Pierce. Skywalker.

I miss you more and more every day. As much as I want you to make your decision with full confidence, and want to be here with me... I also wish you were here already. I need you. We need you.

And I love you so very much. I can't wait to hold you and our baby.

I'm sorry this letter turned out to be so short- I've been so very tired the past few days and I'm afraid this is all I can manage for now. I believe I'm going to fall asleep at my desk again tonight. I know, I know what you're about to say. 'Get up and go lay down'. Unfortunately, there is no rest for the wicked, and I, my dear, must uphold my infamous title as most wicked.

I hope this letter also sends a feeling of a warm hug with it, because I've recently been dreaming of having you in my arms rather than witnessing nightmares. Already, you are saving me.

I love you. Give the baby a tap for me.

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iamfezcosblunt · 2 years

Text

JACK HARLOW X FEM!READER: FUN TIMES IN LOUISVILLE - PART 1

Author's Notes: Whew we this is the moment y'all have been waiting for I finally had the motivation to finish up my first ever Jack Harlow fanfic post. This took a really long time because I started writing and then I just lost my whole entire motivation. But I had got it back and this is finally done I am happy with how this turned out. I will try to do more Jack content from now on and not be dry with him anymore lmao.

This will become two parts because it is so long. 😭

Also, not me having to do a little research on Louisville for me to get inspiration for this please 😂😭. ANYWAYS, hope you guys like it and let me know what you think!

@harlowscutie: This entire Series is for you. I hope you enjoy this fanfic! <3 :3

Description: You and Jack have both been super busy with work. You and Jack decided to take a week off to go back to his home town Louisville, Kentucky. Jack not only wanted to see his family but also he wanted to spend time with you.

Warning: slight cussing. little smut. Pure fluff and fun! :)

You and Jack have been super busy for the past few months. Jack has been working late at the studio non stop. You on the other hand are n owner of a popular bakery and you have been working at the bakery non stop taking orders and getting cakes catered for big events.

It was morning as you groaned as you rubbed your eyes awake and felt the sun hit your face. You were rubbing your eyes as you yawn and got up out of the bed. You noticed two suitcases sitting in front of the door and you notice Jack scrambling through the closet and quickly packing clothes in the suitcase.

"Jack.... wh- what are you doing?" You asked as you were looking at him confused

"I need a damn break, so I decided to take some weeks off and go back home to Louisville. I think you should call off too mamas." he said as he was trying to close a overpacked suitcase.

"Why do I need to call off?" You asked as you slowly walked over to Jack and helped him close the suitcase.

"Because you are coming with me." He said as he smiled cheekily as he tried to zip up the suitcase

"a- are you sure? I haven't really gotten to meet your parents and I don't think your parents will like me." You said as you looked at him getting nervous at the thought of meeting Jack's parents.

Jack looked at you in reassurance as he hugs you kissing your forehead "Yes, i'm sure mamas. My family would be absolutely crazy not to love you." You then sighed in relief and nodded as you cuddled up to him. You then went and got ready for you flight. A stop to Tennessee and a layover later you guys landed in Jack's hometown and you both were super exhausted. You ended up staying with Jack's family and you loved his family. They were super nice and really down to earth and chill.

"So, Y/N what do you do for a living?" Jack's mom asked as you were all sitting down at the table eating dinner

"Oh I own a bakery and I do cakes and cookies. Speaking of which-" you ran away from the table quickly and you went through your backpack and pulled out a small box of your famous Chocolate Chip cookies and you went back with the box in the hands and everyone looked at the box in awe and you opened it smirking "Dig in!" Jack's family looked in awe as they grabbed a cookie and ate one. "DAMN Y/N these are really good!" Jack's brother Clay said as he took another bite.

"Thanks Clay!" You smiled as you sat back down and finished your food.

After dinner you went to take a much needed shower and you were in you pjs and you put your hair up in a messy bun. You ended up sleeping in Jack's old room and sighed as your head hits the pillow. Jack came in and sighed and laid next you.

"Damn what a day." He said as he turned and looked over at you smiling stroking you face.

"mmm yea." you said as you started to kiss his neck and started to give him hickies. "Shit-" he groaned as he turned you up on top of him and he looked at you with pleading eyes.

"Ride me." He said wimpering as you slowly began to grind on him giggling teasing him. He began to moan as you kept going feeling him get hard just then you heard a knock at the door and you quickly stopped and looked at the door like a deer in headlights.

"Jack are you ok?" Jack's mom asked as you quickly got on the other side of the bed.

"Yea ma im fine!" Jack said as he looked you nervous and then at the door as you chuckled lightly as you slowly began again he quickly squeezed his eyes shut and covered his mouth as he tried not to moaned loud.

"Ok honey, goodnight." Jacks mom said as she left. Jack sighed in relief holding on to your waist and looked at you growling.

"You fucking little tease." You giggled and smirked as you got off of him and began to take off your large comfy t shirt leaving you topless and in really short shorts. Jack's mouth went wide as he looks in full blown lust as he began to litter your chest in hickies and you moaned lightly.

"Got imma fuck you so fucking good" Jack then flipped you over on your back and you giggled as you lifted the blanket over the two of you and giggles and moans began to fill the room.

THE NEXT DAY:

The next day you slowly woke up in bliss and heaven. You couldn't get last night out of your head.

"G'morning Jack." You said as you turned to see Jack not in bed. You looked confused and turned towards the nightstand as you notice a note on the night stand. You grabbed the note and opened it as it says:

"Get dressed and meet me outside in 1 hour. I have an amazing day planned for us."

Love you bunny,

Jackman

you quickly got up and dressed in your best outfit and you ran down stairs and you saw Jack standing there in his nice outfit holding roses and having a nice drop top Cadillac parked behind him. You look in pure shock as he chuckled and smiled.

"Jack what is this?" You asked as you looked at him confused but yet intrigued.

"I planned us a picnic at the park, a burbon tasting at one of my favorite spots and to top it all off going to take my lovely girl out to the zoo." Jack said as he hand you the flowers smirking he also had another plan up his sleeve but he wanted to wait to surprise you.

"Oh wow- Jack no one has ever done this for me before." You said gushing as you smelled the flowers and looked at him. You knew this whole entire trip was going to be fun and also get to learn more about Jack as well.

This was only just the beginning.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

#jack harlow #jack harlow x you #jack harlow imagine

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im-in-love-with-pizza-bites · 2 years

Text

Yours, Mine, Ours: Chapter 13

Single-Dad!Chris Evans X Single-Mom!Reader

Series MasterList

Series Summary: Your husband Caspian Richardson Senior died while serving in the military, so you move your three sons to Boston, MA. Where you meet an actor and his sweet daughter.

Chapter Summary: Caspian's point of view.

Series Warnings: Death of a spouse/parent, divorce of parents,

Chapter Warnings: angsty, little fluff, death of parent

A/n: italics is flash backs. This chapter is mostly Caspian, but it's an important chapter sooo.

Thanksgiving is a hard holiday, it was one of senior's favorite holidays. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving. The turkey was prepped, your mom went out and bought everything she needs for her "world" famous pumpkin pie, Mary went with her to get stuff to make chocolate chip cookies with the boys.

Connor and Jace were in the living room showing their grandparents how to play fortnite. You were finishing up with laundry while the grandparents spent time with your youngest sons. Caspian was chilling in his room alone.

Caspian looked around his bedroom. The walls were bare except for a couple empty shelves. The walls were the same color as they were the day he moved in. His desk was cluttered, seeing as it was a catch all space. His dresser was bare except for a basket holding his deodorant and other hygiene products. He never really decorated his rooms. Usually move after a little while anyway, a part of him knows this time is different but he just can't be bothered.

He looked at the photo of him and his dad, he was eight year's old standing next to his dad in his dad's cover (the hat a soldier wears) on and they both had a hand up in salute. Nothing bad ever happened to him. No heart break, no loss just happiness. Oh how much he'd give to have that back. He remembers that day too.

Caspian sat in class doing a worksheet. Only an few hours left of school to go and couldn't wait. It was the last day of school before winter/christmas break. He was feeling bummed because his dad couldn't come home for Christmas that year. You and his dad told him last week that he couldn't get leave. So instead his dad will be celebrating Christmas over face time.

The phone rang but Caspian didn't look up he kept doing what he was, until he heard.

"Caspian can you head down to the office, I need you to grab some papers for me."

"Yes ma'am." Caspian nodded standing up. He hurried down and knocked on the door of the office.

"Come in!" His principal exclaimed. He opens the door walking over to the desk not noticing the soldier standing by the door he just walked in.

"Turn around."

"Dad!" He jumped into the man's arms.

Caspian smiles at the memory. There were so many memories like that. Home comings mostly don't forget him leaving.

Caspian sat on the couch watching his brothers have an emotional goodbye with his dad. He was home for two years and now leaving for two more. Senior looked at his oldest son with a sad smile.

"Junior." Senior said, Caspian stood up walking over to his dad. "Hey, I'll see you before you know it okay? It'll go by real fast."

"Yeah." Caspian shrugged. Senior frowned.

"Hooah." (Who-uh)

"Hooah."

Senior smiled hugging his son.

"See ya later alligator."

"After a while crocodile." Caspian said before hugging him again and letting the tears fall. "Love you love you dad."

Caspian sighed how come that was the last time he got to hug his dad. Why did his dad have to join? Sure he knows it's because of 9/11 but still he could've chosen reserves, rarely see combat if ever. He can't change the past even that day he found out he was fatherless.

A scream echoes through the house. Caspian looks up from his phone. He exits his room cautiously before sneaking into Jace and Connor's to grab Jace's baseball bat. He heads down the stairs bat ready. Sure it was unlikely it was an intruder but who knows. He barely make it down the stairs before he sees you on the ground. Then the soldiers at the door.

"The commandant extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your loss." One of the soldiers finishes. The pair looks up at the noise of a metal bat dropping. He didn't notice the look on those men's faces when they saw the boy. Caspian stood there looking at the soldiers. Caspian turns around and walks back up those stairs and into his room. He throws himself on the bed.

"No!" Caspian shouts muffled by a pillow. He cried into the pillow until he fell asleep, you had checked on him but he was already asleep.

The next morning he felt numb inside. Like he wanted to cry again but he just didn't have it in him. He could hear people downstairs and he knew should go down cause he recognized those voices as his grandparents and Uncle but he couldn't face them. He sighed standing up from the bed he walked to the bathroom using it before going to the sink. He washed his hands before looking at himself in the mirror.

He took a deep breath splashing water in his face before going down stairs. Connor and Jace were asleep on the couch. He enters the kitchen, Maya was standing there making breakfast holding a one year old three year old Matty. They lived on the other side of the base. But he's known them most his life. His dad and Hank were in basic together

"Aunt Maya is Uncle Butler okay?" Caspian asked, senior and Butler got deployed together. They were a great team.

"Yeah sweetie he is. He's coming home with... Let's not talk about that. I'm making eggs, your grandparents, Uncle Benji, and Mom are in the dining room." Maya said.

"Okay." Caspian nodded taking a deep breath before going into the dining room.

"Hey kid." Benji looked at him. Caspian said nothing just sat down resting his head on the table. "Come here." He pulled the tween into his arms.

He sighed wiping his eyes. That was the worse day of his life. He didn't really talk much for a few months. Especially during the days leading up to his dad's arrival back into the states.

Caspian didn't really talk much the days leading up to his dad's body coming back to the states. He remembers that day too well. A casket covered in an American flag was brought off the plane by six soldiers, including Hank Butler. He straightened his stance before bringing a hand to by his eye and as it was sat in that van he let the salute go.

He eventually fell asleep with his thoughts.

Taglist: @anacrcarvalho @traceyaudette @deputy-videogamer @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @yelenabelovawife @stillthatbetch @queenofthepouges @hauntedmuffinpersonarascal @food8me @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @selluequestrian @killerqueenfan @lharrietg @liecastillo @denisemarieangelina @wisepeanutlady @dontbescaredtosingalong @unicornblueberry @stitchattacks @haroldsstuff @milacolibri @alpine-loves-bucky @spooky-stoner @marvelmenwhore @saahmi @boldlypessimistic @freakyevanss @asuni921 @srhxpci @supriseeshawtyy @nova10711 @Aliza03 @blueeyeddemon1016 @happinessinthebeing @winterberryfox @sunwardsss @ellerosie2332 @h-j-s-03 @ShmaptianAshmerica @the-photo-hoe @scarletmeii @janaev4ns @nik2write

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whetstonefires · 3 years

Text

@misskirby keeping me submerged in a stream of Star Wars even when not on tumblr now, new AU:

Leia, whose current ident-chips read Lee Nabidaler and Aloo Kitster depending on if she was trying to pass for sixteen to get better pay for odd jobs around the latest station, or admit to a mere fourteen standard and get the lower data rates on education modules and edutainment shows at the licensed library outlets, put her toolbox down on the table in their little berth on the Dolorana Mystica, the heavy freighter that had needed a mechanic just when their last ship had to be scrapped for parts.

“Dad. We need to talk.”

Her father looked up from the leg in his lap that he’d been toying with. It was one of his, even though he had two on—he was always trying out upgrades, but knew better than to leave himself unable to run, so as little as they often owned they usually had a spare prosthetic or two among their gear, unless they’d just had to start from scratch again.

Leia had almost gotten them caught because of that, when she was six. It was one of her first really clear memories. She hadn’t realized that most fathers didn’t have detachable limbs, let alone that most people with prosthetics didn’t work on them themselves, and she’d talked about it to another couple of children on a play-structure in one of the shopping plazas in the mountain-towers of Birsili 11, and their parents had overheard, and somehow that inconclusive identifying information had made it all the way to—to whoever was hunting them.

“I know I promised to stop asking,” she said, and she’d promised that at ten, after her Dad came home with a blaster bolt to the chest. “But I’m older now. I want to know what’s going on.”

Her dad sighed, and rubbed at the scar over his right eye—a nervous tic he only indulged in private, since he kept that eye hidden under goggles or hair or an eyepatch or a hood whenever they went out. “Please be patient, Leia. Just a little longer.”

“I’m tired of being patient!” She laid her hands flat on the table; Dad always withdrew when she got too angry, so she couldn’t afford to stomp or wave her hands. That was childish, anyway. “Who are we running from? Is it because of me? Are we going to have to run forever? Are you even my real father? What happened to my mom?”

Her dad was goggling at her by the end of this, and then the tool he’d forgotten inside the leg hit a live wire and sparked, biting his hand. Jerking it free wasn’t enough to distract him, and he dropped the tool unseeing to the floor, not even cursing at the pain. “Is that what you’ve been thinking?” he asked. “Leia, sweet—alright. You’re right. Fourteen is old enough. Your mother saved a world at fourteen, after all.”

“She did what?”

“I am your father.” Dad stared at her intensely until she looked back and met his eyes, so he could impress on her, “I swear to you I am. I know you don’t remember your mother very well, and I should have told you more about her, but…”

“But you didn’t trust me to keep my mouth shut,” Leia said heavily. Of course her childhood indiscretions had meant she couldn’t be told identifying information like the story of saving a planet at just fourteen years old.

“A little, but mostly I just…it hurt too much to think of her. It was selfish, and I’m sorry.”

Leia heaved a breath in, let it out. She was getting what she’d asked for. She dragged her stool out and sat down. “What did happen to her?”

“I’m not…entirely sure.” Dad looked wretched when he said that, but not actually evasive. “I’ll tell you what I do know. First of all: you have a brother.”

“I do?” Dad wasn’t that old, even if she used to think he was ancient. Her brother couldn’t be old enough to have done anything to Mom.

“Yes. A twin.” Her father’s voice broke on the word, and he had to swallow several times to go on. His head was hanging so she could barely see his face behind the wiggles of his hair. “When you were two, we lost him in a raid. He was kidnapped. We were—nearly sure he wasn’t dead, but no matter what we did we couldn’t find what had become of him. Those were bad days. I know you don’t remember.”

“I…think I do,” Leia whispered. Memories like dreams, even softer than those of her mother—a paler self looking back at her, smiling. “Was he—did he have blond hair?”

“Yes! Yes, he did.” There was something almost glad brimming on Dad’s face, a fierce light in his eyes. “That’s him. That’s Luke.”

“Luke,” Leia echoed. Breathed in, breathed out. Another thing she hadn’t known to miss for too long, like a stable place to live or getting to go to school with other children. “But what happened to Mom?”

“When you were four, we got our first real lead. We knew where he was, but we had to move fast. I couldn’t come, I’d just lost the second leg chasing a shadow to nowhere and the stump wouldn’t tolerate a prosthetic yet. Padme made me promise not to take stupid risks, to stay with you and keep you safe no matter what. And she took her best people, and…” Grief twisted his often-sorrowful face into something beyond recognition.

“It was a trap,” murmured Leia.

“I don’t know. But none of them came back.”

#traveling mechanics skywalker au #leia nabidaler etc.#palpatine totally has luke #i have this scene in mind where they go looking for padme and find obi-wan instead #whom anakin THOUGHT died during the leg number 2 incident #but then while they're still reeling and getting him out of his restraints #red lightsaber goes shwooooom behind them #and there's a 14 year old Inquisitor and/or Hand telling them #that His Excellency would prefer to have them all alive #but limbs are negotiable #so then leia and anakin have to try to get luke back into the Light #he brings Mara #padme is somewhere idk #hoc est meum #my writing #fanfic #my fic #star wars #dadakin

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ellana-ravenwood · 4 years

Text

“Mom got lost again” - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : Little snippets about how “Batmom” (reader) will never find her way in the Mansion. But it’s fine, really, because she can always count on her husband and children to “save” her. //DRABBLE

So. I was watching one of those “Architect’s digest” video on YouTube where they visit houses that are millions and millions of dollars worth, and besides the fact that I was thinking “wow look at all those beautiful things I’ll never be able to afford”, I couldn’t shake another thought off…and that was that I would totally get lost in many of those houses. Like, the way some are designed, they’re literally Dedalus’ labyrinth my dudes. So anyway, here’s not-really-a-fic-nor-a-drabble for you, a sort of snippet kind of thing, about this. Hope you’ll like it :

My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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Before the kids

“Hey Alfred, where’s (Y/N) ?”

He asks, one early evening as he just got home from work and knows you were going to meet up with him at his place.

“Oh Lady (Y/L/N) wanted to go see the library, so I took her there.”

“Thank you.”

Bruce arrives in the library, but you’re nowhere to be found. Wondering where you went he calls you but it seems like your cell don’t have any battery anymore. He starts to walk around the West Wing, looking in every room and…Finally, he finds you.

You’re sitting down against a wall in the corridor, looking discouraged, staring at your dead phone. You spot him and jump to your feet, looking very relieved. You then rush in Bruce’s arms, he catches you in extremis and you exclaims :

“Oh my god ! Bruce ! I love you !”

Insert a lot of kisses on his cheeks a really huge hug, as if you haven’t seen him in ages. But I mean, getting lost any place is sort of distressing, and you looooove that man. So much.

A little confuse, although always happy to have your affection, he asks :

“What…is going on ?”

“I got lost…”

“You got lost ?”

"You have a very big house.”

Highly amused, Bruce responds : “I do.”

“So I got lost.”

“Ah. And what were you doing sitting there ?”

“Well…My parents always taught me to stay where I was, if I ever got lost somewhere, so when they’d came to look for me we’d be sure to see each others instead of passing right next to each others a thousand times…”

Bruce can’t help but burst out in laughter. Even more so that you genuinely looks like a kid that got separated from her parents. And oh, oh you love his laughter.

It’s always a feat, when you can hear it. Especially when it comes from the heart like right now, when he genuinely laughs this deep beautiful laugh, because he’s happy. Because you make him happy.

He’s not laughing at you, he just laughs because...You’re too much sometimes.

And exactly what he needs. Too much is good, for a man like him.

He takes your hand and shows you around one more time.

But he can see that even so, you can’t seem to remember the layout of the house, and you getting lost will happen again for sure.

And he’s right. He showed you around his manor so many times, yet it seems you just can’t remember certain places. Like you memorized the places you go the most, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, access to the Batcave...and most of the time you find your way around easily (albeit sometimes still a little lost).

But there’s entire areas of the house you try not to venture in or...it ends with Bruce coming to your rescue. Or Alfred. But he usually leaves Bruce to do it, as the man just...loves the way you two love each others.

It’s always rather cute. And it warms the butler’s heart.

Never in his wildest dream would he ever have thought that his Master Bruce would find someone like you. Someone accepting and understanding, and loving him unconditionally. And someone that Bruce loved fully in return, and whom he cherished above all.

Yes. Alfred often let Bruce go on the hunt for you across the Manor, simply because he shipped you both since the very first time he saw you together, and he thoroughly enjoyed when his Master Bruce was acting like a lovesick puppy around you. When he was acting like a “normal” man, just hopelessly in love with his wife.

And it was so pure, and beautiful.

So what if sometimes you’d wait a little long, lost in those endless corridors ? Alfred knew that Bruce would find you. Always. And that when he did, as usual, you would make Bruce’s heart melt, and he’d feel happy just by seeing you and...honestly it was all wort it.

Bruce sometimes suspect you do it on purpose. That you get lost just so he can find you. And honestly ? He really doesn’t mind...

Saved by the little bird

"Over a year of living here, I swear I still can’t...where...wait, didn’t I just pass this damn yet-again-another-living room ?! Aaaah what the fuck why is everything looking the same. Fucking shit. What a shitastrophy. Fucking cockburger son of a bitchtits little f-”

“Um...Are you ok, mom ?”

Oh sssshhhh...Alfred wouldn’t be happy with you for swearing around your young son. Dick was only eight, after all.

He had started to call you “mom” since very recently, and it always made your heart skip a beat. Made you feel utterly happy.

As the boy came in behind you from the corridor, you were about to kick a potted plant out of frustration (another thing that Alfred wouldn’t be very happy about). You turn around, slowly get your foot back on the floor, and say :

“Um. I got um...Lost...”

“Lost ?”

“Yes...I just...can’t get used to the size of this house. I wanted to get something that Alfred said was in the East wing, which is somewhere I never really go. And um...”

“You got lost.”

“Yes. Don’t make fun of me ok, your dad is already enough.”

“I wasn’t going to make fun of you !”

Your son says, a little virulently, as if offended you’d ever think such a thing ! You smile at him, because how sweet could this kid get really ?

“Alright little buddy, sorry I ever made such an assumption. So, if you’re not gonna mock me...maybe you can save me then ?”

“Save you ?”

“Well, I’m lost. And you don’t seem lost.”

“That’s because I’m not, I always found my way out of the labyrinths in fun fairs very easily !”

He tells you, smiling widely, excited at the prospect of helping you.

“Where do you need to go ?”

“Let’s try to get to the kitchen.”

“I know the way ! Come on !”

He takes your hand in his little one, and drags you behind him, leading you across corridors and rooms up until...

“Here !”

He tells you, smiling widely. And it’s so cute, because he’s missing a few teeth and his smile is just so pure...You just want to squish his little face and hug him to death.

“Ah my savior ! What can I ever repay you with ?”

You ask, taking an overdramatic tone of voice, knowing little Dickie always loved when you two played pretend and such. He takes the gruffest voice he can and says :

“Well, my lady can repay me with...um...Cookies, yes I think cookies will do !”

“Cookies ? Well this sounds fair, for this dashing saving you just did ! Macadamia or chocolate chip ?”

“Both ?”

“Both it is !”

It happened many times, that you paid your oldest son with cookies, after he saved you from getting lost in your own house...Even as an adult, he’d demand payment of fresh cookies, and then would go show them off to his siblings, refusing to share, as the “good” older brother he was haha.

Lost together

You find Jason in one of the many gaming room, while you were trying to get to the kitchen. You know for a fact that there are no gaming rooms on the way to the kitchen, but you can’t really figure out where you messed up...Was it when you went left after the third bathroom ? Or when you took the stairs down right before one of the mezzanine ? Wait, did that mezzanine have a piano ? Because if it did then it was the right way, if it didn’t, then you were on the other side of the damn house. Or maybe just right next to...Yeah ok. Lost again.

But you found Jason.

Maybe he could help ?

The boy was sitting in a huge comfortable leather armchair, reading a book. When he heard you come in the room, he snapped his head up and a huge smile illuminated his cute little face.

“Finally ! Mom !”

He jumps off the armchair, putting down his books, and goes to jump in your arms. Then he says :

“I was trying to go to the arcade room ! Because I wanted to beat your high score on Tekken, but I always only followed someone there, and I can’t find it anymore...”

Ah. The arcade. One of the only room you sort of knew where to find...If you started from the front door. Or your bedroom. Not from a random room god knew where in the mansion.

Why was this house so big ???

“I’m sorry to bother you with this, I know I should’ve paid more attention when Alfred showed me, but it’s just-”

Oh no. Oh no the little one was looking at you worryingly, probably because you weren’t responding, and he thought he was being a pain.

Little Buddy always thought he was bothering people...So hurriedly, you said :

“Oh no no Jason, you’re not bothering me at all ! It’s just um..I’m um...I’m sort of lost too.”

“You are ?”

“I am.”

“Really ?”

“Really.”

“Well damn.”

“Haha right ? Usually your father or Dick would save me. Or Alfred.”

“Yeah same.”

“I actually rarely walk around alone now that I think about it.”

“Yeah same !”

There’s a short pause, where you look at each others and smile at this little moment. And then, as you slowly both realize that you’re lost, IN YOUR OWN HOME, and the ridiculousness of the situation down on you, you explode in laughter.

You end up getting back to the armchair, and Jason settles comfortably in your lap as you continue to read the book he was reading, out loud, and he listens to you happily. Nobody ever really read him stories before you and Bruce...

Bruce finds the both of you later in the day, fast asleep in the armchair, Jason latched on your arm as you hug him to you.

He finds the sight so adorably charming. He sits down next to the two of you, enjoying this moment of quiet and peace. And then he picks up the book you were reading, reading it himself...Ah. It’s one of his favorite childhood book.

He reads it, waiting for you two to wake up, not wanting to disturb your sleep.

It’s rare, that he has some free time. And he really doesn’t mind spending it watching over his sleeping wife and son, waiting for them to wake up and guide their way back to the part of the house they know...

Damn. Damn he loves them so much.

"I memorized the blueprints”

“And see, here’s a secret passage !”

The boy says excitedly, as he shows you and Bruce a hidden door in one of the wall, behind a heavy tapestry.

“...Wait...I didn’t even know that was there...How did...What ?”

Your husband asks, half-confused, half-impressed, with maybe a little hint of hurt pride in there as well...it’s his house after all.

“I memorized the blueprints of the house that are in the library.”

The little one says, smiling widely at his new father. Bruce responds :

“I have those blueprints, I never saw this secret passage ever in my life.”

“You must have the “official” blueprints, the one Allan Wayne gave to others. The blueprints in the library, the ones I found, were tucked away inside one of the book and showed more than the “official” ones. Your great-great-great-great-great grandfather was a very paranoid man, I assume he pulled a Madame Winchester on the builders.”

“Madame Win...Huh ?”

“You know, famous Winchester mansion ? Super haunted ? She gave instructions to many different people to build certain things and there isn’t really blueprints that shows a correct layout of everything ?”

“Right...Sure...”

“I assume you were too busy building the bat cave to really pay attention to the house. But it’s quite a wonder ! There’s so many new secrets I haven’t discovered yet !”

A soft, tender smile spreads on your husband’s face as he looks down at Tim. Bruce says :

“That’s quite a discovery you found there my boy, and you say you memorized it already ?”

“It was easy, I just had to keep in mind the-”

And then Tim started to get lost in long complicated explanation that you didn’t understand, while your husband seemed very interested.

You couldn’t help but smile. How cute...

Today, you were sort of glad, that you got very lost in your own home again, and got saved by little Timmy. He hadn’t lived in the house for very long by that time, but already knew it even better than Bruce, apparently.

It was so nice, to have such a sweet little on in your life again...Dick hadn’t been by in a while, busy with the titans. And Jason...

You didn’t want to think about Jason.

Or at least, not in the way you would end up thinking about him. You wanted to remember his smiles, and how he always got lost too in this house. Not...Not...the broken body Bruce brought back...You...

You shooed the memory away, and focused on your son.

Tim was now going on and on about how he found really cool places that weren’t on the normal blueprints, and how he wanted to show Bruce and you.

And Bruce was smiling. For the first time in ages. Your husband was smiling, faced with such an excited little one.

So yes. Yes, today you were glad you got lost in your own home, and that your tiny son found you and showed you the way. That it lead you to ask him how the hell was he that fast in memorizing the house’s layout, and then him explaining things about the blueprints.

And consequently, how Bruce and him started to truly bond, started to talk about the house and about the Wayne legacy...

It was nice. To finally see your husband smile again. Propelled by a sudden surge of motherly love, you hugged Tim tight, and the boy, a bit confused at first, hugged you back without much questions.

And this sight.

His wife and his son hugging.

It warmed Bruce’s heart in a way his heart hadn’t been warmed since he lost Jason.

Yes. It was good, that sometimes you’d get lost in your own damn house.

This is a fun game

By the time Cassandra came into your life, this “mom got lost again” thing became sort of a game. It was about who would find you first, when they realized you were lost.

You’d be gone a little too long after saying : “I’m gonna go get the ice cream in the freezer”, and they knew. It was time to set a party to find you.

“3, 2, 1...GO !” And they’d run in each different direction, searching for you.

The winner gets cookies. Baked by you...

Cass liked that game.

Because even if she lost, she would’ve spend quality times with her family. Fun times. Looking for her beloved mother.

Mother.

The only mother she ever had.

Mom.

It’s a word that always easily rolled off her tongue.

Mom.

“Found, mom.”

You jumped a little in the air, as your only daughter suddenly appeared out of nowhere. She was looking at you upside down, and it took you a little bit to realize she was actually dangling off in a very spider-man way off of the floor just above. She must’ve heard your footsteps (or more likely, your growls about being lost again).

She jumped off, and you felt your heart stop, suddenly fearing she would fall down but..Not, she agilely jumps over the rail, and is in front of you, smiling.

Finding you was Cass’ favorite game. Because when she did, you’d always look at her fondly, give her a hug, and praise her for being the best.

And for someone like Cassandra, who grew up treated like an emotionless machine by a man who never viewed her as more than a weapon...it felt nice, to have such a loving person in her life.

When Cass thought of you, her mind filled with bright colors, and her heart with warmth. Because she grew up never learning how to speak, her thoughts didn’t quite work in words like most people, but in colors and temperatures.

And you, you were reassuring colors and soothing warmth.

Mom.

Such a simple word. Yet it took her a while to be able to even say it.

Now she could speak, in big thanks to you. And her father.

She loved you guys so much. So much.

She loved you.

“Mom.”

She says, reaching a hand for yours. And you take it, smiling once more, shaking your head and apologizing that you made her look for you...Oh.

Oh but she doesn’t mind. None of them do.

Because when they find you. When they “save you”, you always look at them with such unconditional love. No matter what.

Finding you is Cass’ favorite game.

It always leaves her feeling nice and warm, loved and safe.

Finding you is Cass’ favorite game.

And one day, she’ll be able to tell you all of that. One day, she’ll be able to tell you to never apologize, because she loves to look for you. She loves you.

One day. One day she’ll talk to you about all of this.

But for now, it was fine for both of you that her feelings translated in only smiles, affectionate touch, and one very important word...

“Mom”.

“I won’t let you get lost !”

Damian hated the mere idea of you being in any kind of distress.

ANY kind.

So when he learned that you would often get lost in the Manor, and even as everyone assured him it just sort of became an inside joke within the family, your youngest son took it upon himself to make sure you’d never get lost again.

He started to put up signs everywhere in the house, giving indications as to where you were and where was what. Detailed little maps, arrows and such. Drawn by himself. It took him WEEKS to finally cover the entire Manor.

It’s something no one ever thought of before because...Although you often got lost, it was always nice to try and find you, and well, you would still know your way around the part of the house you’d most go to.

In fact, when you got lost, it was often because you’d go in a wing you didn’t know much for whatever reason, and they’d know where to look for you.

So they never really saw a reason to make signs telling you the right way. Or yeah, they never really thought about it.

But Damian...Damian was set to make the house “lost proof”.

As a result, you definitely didn’t get lost as many times. Which was...nice ?

But once, at dinner, Dick was reminiscing of that one time you got lost in the attic for some reason, and couldn’t find your way out, and him and Jason had to get you, and how they laughed a lot and you praised them for saving you...

And Damian grew quiet. And upset. When you asked him why, he refused to answer, but the next day, you ventured in a part of the house you rarely went to so you could go fetch something and...

All the signs telling you which way to go were gone. Which didn’t worry you much, you knew you’d be found by one of your family member before long, or would just find your own way out after a while.

But it was odd nonetheless.

It’s only when Damian found you, and “saved” you that you understood why the signs weren’t on anymore.

Damian too, wanted to “save” you from getting lost. Wanted to laugh with you because it was silly that you got lost in your own house. Wanted you to bake him cookies as a reward for saving him. Wanted to share those bonding moments with you...

It was so cute, and showed how far Damian really went since Talia first dropped him on your door, that you couldn’t help but hug the hell out of your baby.

He was a little embarrassed, but hugged you back nonetheless.

Yes. Yes Damian had come along way, since he first came into your life. He learned how to love, how it felt to be loved, and how...how sometimes he would crave for your attention.

And so he took down the signs. So he could save you. So he could share this with you, just like you did share those moments with all his other siblings.

He took down the signs, because you getting lost was an important inside joke of this family...And because he was, now, part of this family.

What even is this place...

Duke thought he would never EVER find his way back in this new house.

His bedroom was in...east wing ? West wing ? ...SOMEWHERE.

The first few days of living there were overwhelming, and he constantly had to make sure he wasn’t far from one of the other family member because he was so afraid to get lost.

He couldn’t remember the right way to anywhere. This was all too big.

He grew up in a small two bedrooms apartment, in the heart of Gotham’s sludge. He could find his way in this gigantic city easily, knew the place like the back of his hand but...

The Manor ?

It was uncharted territory. In every sense of the term.

First it was on the outskirt of Gotham, in the hills, a place he never set foot in.

And then the house, but also the land around it was bigger than his neighborhood ! It was so foreign for him...

But he hid this well. He hid the fact he was overwhelmed well. And just made sure he’d always be with someone when walking around the manor.

He tried to remember the way they took, he really did. But every time he thought he got it, they’d use another way and he was totally lost again.

Alfred showed him around the first day, but it was too many informations at the same time. Him and his ADHD couldn’t process it.

What would you guys say, if he mentioned he was getting lost in the house ? Surely, you’d mock him. Or just feel sorry for him ?

He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t want to know. Acclimating to this new life was already hard enough, what with discovering his meta-powers, having to deal with what happened to his parents, and living in this all new environment.

You made it comfortable and easy for him. You were just so welcoming and loving. But it was still hard...he was only a boy.

And so he said nothing. And now...now, lost and walking through corridors that all looked the same, he dearly regretted it.

He turned a corner, and...there you were.

“Oh, hey Dukie”.

He smiled shyly, afraid you would know he was lost, and said :

“Hi.”

“What’s up ?”

“Nothing, I was going to- I was exploring the house.”

He was about to say he was trying to get to the movie theater, where Damian and Cass were surely waiting for him by that time, so they could watch a movie. But what if he was totally off ? Far from where the home cinema was supposed to be ?

“Exploring the house” sounded like a safe thing to say.

“Oh, careful not to get lost haha. Happens to me all the time...”

Wait...What ? Were you joking ? He wasn’t sure.

“Actually, I’m lost right now. I wanted to take a shortcut from the kitchen to the bat cave to see Bruce -I miss him- -Yeah I know only saw him couple of hours ago-, but I must’ve taken a wrong turn...Somewhere...”

You were holding your chin in your hand now, trying to remember where you could possibly have taken the wrong turn. And Duke realized you were serious.

“You’re lost ?”

“Yeaaaah. Go ahead, you can laugh. I know I’d laugh at myself too haha. I just could...never quite figure out how this house worked ? I grew up in a one bedroom apartment, sleeping in the living room with my brothers. And then when I moved in on my own I had an even smaller place. So. It’s a change. Even after all those years I’m still not quite used to it.”

“Ah me too ! I mean, I just can’t figure out the layout of this place !”

“Ah ? Hey, for you too, sometimes you think you definitely know where you’re going and then you find yourself outside in the garden and you just have no idea how you got there ?”

“Yes !!!! I was sure of my way so many times but then one wrong turn and...here I am.”

“Well Duke, believe me I get it. I get it haha.”

You then proceeded to tell him all the most embarrassing stories of you getting lost, including that one time at a charity event held in your house, someone asked you to take them to a certain place, and your asshole of a husband let you do it just because he knew you wouldn’t find the way, and because you getting lost with their guest was the only fun entertainment of the night.

And this.

This simple shared thing, of you two getting lost...

It was amongst the first time Duke really felt home. Really felt like he wasn’t alone.

Those past few days had been difficult for him. This was all so new.

And yet, with a few smiles, silly stories and support..You made him feel like he was truly home. And he didn’t even notice the hours you two passed, sat on the floor in that corridor, before Bruce found you and took you back to where you initially wanted to go...

Saved by the littlest bird

Thomas is about eight, and you’re about to have a heart pinching flashback as he’s going to remind you of your first baby...

Dick was going to be almost thirty, by then. He was married, and with a kid on the way (I’m not here for ship wars, you chose with who he is, wether it’s Babs or Kori, or whoever else). Oh, how long ago it was, that his little eight years old hand would hold yours to guide you across the manor...

Too bad. Because right now, you definitely needed some help navigating around. Lost again. Ugh. T’was getting old.

“Mommy...You’ve been living in this house for over 15 years now, how can you still get lost ?”

Your littlest baby. Thomas. Appearing from around the corner, and as he saw you, rolling his eyes like never before. Yet smirking, in a very “Bruce” way. Ah. Like father, like son.

“...”

Is your only answer.

You avoid his judging gaze, but did it in a way that was overdoing it, so he knew you were just pretending to be embarrassed haha. He rolled his eyes, and then takes out a walkie talkie and says :

“I found her Damdam, she’s in the West Wing near one of the drawing room. Over.”

“Ok, thanks little buddy, let’s meet up in the kitchen, over.”

“Ok cool, be right there, over.”

This little exchange made you smile, oh those two were very close. Well, all your children were close. But Damian and Thomas had a little something, because they were the youngest, and because Damian took to heart his big brother role. He was also the only one still living in the manor by that time, all your other children having their own place in Gotham, going to college or already working...a wave of nostalgia threatened to take over you, and you quickly thought of something else.

“Little buddy”, Damian called Thomas. Copying you for sure. How cute.

“Come on mommy, I’ll take you back to the kitchen. You can make us cookies then, yes ?”

“Of course my baby, any flavor you want.”

“Well Damian will surely want the white chocolate chip ones, so I’m good with those too.”

Thomas was such a sweet consilient boy. He didn’t really mind anything, and would follow you guys anywhere...as long as he could be with his family, and enjoy their presence, he just never minded.

He definitely had a stubborn and strong personality, but he was still oh so sweet. And nice. Even if he did mock you a lot for getting lost in your own home...

“Where did you get the walkies ?”

“Dick gave it to me last time he came, so we could cheat at hide and seek. Don’t tell Tim.”

You chuckle, imagining how nuts your kids would get because Dick always goddamn won...

Ah and of course Dick would give a talkie to his littlest brother. To be honest, Thomas reminded you of Dick in lots of ways.

They were both gentle, funny, sweet and nice...with outburst of anger and pride sometimes. Ah quite like Bruce too. You loved them all so damn much.

“Now come mom, I think dad will be home soon too ! We can watch a movie before the patrol ! With cookies !!”

You smile, and you take your son’s hand. Your youngest boy. Reminiscent of when Dick used to do this. All those years ago.

Reminiscent of a time you didn’t feel so weak...

(I’M SORRY I HAD TO ADD THIS LAST LINE FOR IT TO FIT IN THE WORLD I SORT OF MADE !! If you know you know).

And if you’re wondering who the hell Thomas is : Polichinelle, “Go away, you’re confusing my baby”, Shaky steps and bad teaching, Master of Diaper, How do you make babies ?, What it means to be a big brother - By Damian Wayne and After Batmom’s death)

Bonus : There’s a moment, in one of the video I watched, where the guy showing the house off is basically like : “You might think this is a beautiful dining room…but it’s not, it’s a breakfast room”, and I had random flashes of Alfred showing the manor to one of the kids, or even to Batmom as she first comes to the house, and him talking about the “breakfast room”, and the boys/Batmom just not being able to get over the fact there’s a room that exist just to eat breakfast in…(wait till they see the personal SPA floor uh). Only Damian would be like : “Tt. Only one breakfast room ?” XD. Anyway. I thought I shared, because it made me laugh to imagine how ridiculous Wayne Manor is. Wait worst, in one of the video the people living in it had a room bigger than my entire apartment that existed for the SOLE PURPOSE OF CUTTING BOUQUETS OF FRESH FLOWERS ??????? That I’m sure they wouldn’t have. I mean, a garden that Alfred would cherish, for sure. But...an entire room just to cut FRESH (the dude really put an emphasis on that) flowers...My guy...what...

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Ok the end. Hope you liked whatever my thoughts were on this Saturday night. I didn't put as much effort in this as I usually do and wrote it rather fast, hope it’s still ok, I just wanted to share a little something that wouldn't leave my head up until I finally wrote about it :).

PS : Also it’s all sort of a joke I thought about, I know most people would probably find their way after living for ages in the same place, but ah you get what I meant haha. Also I get lost in my own basement sometimes because of how the layout is, so ya know...hahaha.

#Batmom #Batfam #Batfamily #Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne imagine #Damian Wayne x Reader #Batfam x Reader #Batmom x Batfam #Jason Todd x Reader #Cassandra Cain imagine #Richard Grayson x Reader #Tim Drake x reader #Damian Wayne imagine #Tim Drake imagine #Batfam imagine #Richard Grayson imagine #Wayne Manor is CRAZY #Fem!Reader

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holdmecloser-gandydancer · 3 years

Text

love and revolution

Magnus was intently working on a bookshelf. It was made of a beautiful, dark mahogany and, upon the request of the customer, was going to have dozens of birds carved into the sides and edges. He began sanding the shelves with a fine grit sandpaper. For a while, the only sound in the Hammer and Tongs was the soft, repetitive noise of wood being worn down.

The calm monotony was broken when the front door creaked open. Magnus looked up and grinned at the entrant; Julia Waxman, loaded down with bags from various merchants in town, had returned, the last dregs of the late afternoon sun trailing in after her. The sharp bite in the air let everyone know winter was just around the corner.

Magnus quickly stood up to relieve Julia of her burden She smiled and handed him half the bags in her arms. As the pair got to work unloading the bags, Magnus frowned. Everything Julia had brought home was either small, poor quality, or about to turn.

“This is what everyone had. Season’s been tough for farming and everyone’s raising prices to keep up with Kalen’s tariffs,” Julia said before Magnus could comment. She inspected the hard loaf of bread she’d been able to grab.

Magnus shook his head. For nearly a year, Governor Kalen and his cronies had been enacting increasingly harsh laws, oppressive curfews, and predatory taxes; the citizens of Raven’s Roost all felt the firm pressure of Kalen’s fine leather boots on the neck of their economy and of their freedom.

“How is everyone doing?”

Julia shrugged. “They’re all doing as well as they can. The Silverstrings are worried because their wheat harvest was half as fruitful this year as it was last year and a good portion of what grew was seized by Kalen.”

“Lucatiel?”

“His wool has largely been commandeered by Kalen. He hopes to be able to shear another large batch before winter hits in earnest but he’s uncertain.”

“And Therala?”

“Her herd’s dwindling. Most of the calves from this past spring either died or –“

“Were taken by Kalen and his pals. Right. Jules, how does he keep getting away with this?”

Julia laughed sharply and started putting some of the dry goods in the storage closet in the back of the shop. “Magnus, that’s just how things have always been here. For a while, anyway.”

“But how’d he even get into power in the first place?” There was nothing but pure astonishment in his voice. In the five years he’d lived in Raven’s Roost, he’d never quite been able to comprehend how someone so ruthless could have gotten the trust of the town; his friends and neighbors were good, honest folks and good judges of character. It made no sense to Magnus.

She puffed out her cheeks and thought for a moment. “He helped form Raven’s Roost into a proper town. We used to be vulnerable to bandits and those who sought to cause pain. He was stern but that kept us in shape. He used to be better. Genuinely. Not good, not at all, but not like this. His policies were never quite this harsh. I suppose he’s gotten greedy.”

“It’s senseless for him to dig this deep this quickly. If it continues like this, I don’t know that the town is going to last much longer.”

Julia said nothing. She knew Magnus was right but what was to be done about it? The two continued to unpack and put away items in silence.

“Papa won’t talk to me about how business is going here. Said he doesn’t want me to worry about things. How are we doing?” Julia looked at Magnus seriously.

He hesitated. Steven had specifically asked him to not discuss the business with Julia but when he saw her in front of him, firm hands anxiously picking at a sliver on the table, he found it hard to deny her.

“We’ve done better. I’m sure you’re aware the craftsmen corridor has been hit pretty hard by all the tariffs. Not only can we hardly afford to replace the tools and materials we need but the rest of the town can’t exactly afford our wares. We get the occasional customers,” he gestured to the bookshelf he’d been working on. “But we’re not doing great.”

Julia nodded and looked down. “That’s not exactly reassuring. But thanks for telling me.”

“Of course. Just don’t tell your dad I said anything,” he said sheepishly.

“Deal,” she said, glancing back at him with a smile.

Magnus sat on a bench outside the Hammer and Tongs and stared up at the moons. His teeth were chattering quietly but he wasn’t quite ready to turn in for the night. Isaiah Erksine, Kalen’s right-hand man, had distributed yet another list of tariffs and regulations to all the shops in Raven’s Roost earlier in the day. They were unconscionable; taxes and levies on every single scrap of material you could think of. Harsher curfews that made it nearly impossible for those in the craftsmen corridor to do much else besides make goods that nobody could afford. It was like the very essence of life was slowly being choked out of the town. Or, at the very least, the spirit of its inhabitants.

Magnus’s ruminative spiral was broken when he felt a thick, scratchy blanket draped over his shoulders. He glanced up and smiled; Julia, dressed far more sensibly than Magnus, darted a hand back through the doorway. In a moment, Magnus’s hands were wrapped around a piping hot mug of mint tea. Admittedly, the drink was more water than tea, but he drank it appreciatively.

“You seem troubled,” Julia mused, sipping from her own chipped mug.

“I am, Julia.” He confirmed, scooting over to make room on the bench. Julia mulled it over for a minute before sitting down. Heat was radiating off her like a fire and it took everything in Magnus to not immediately wrap his arms around her and hold her close. Though he did scoot a little closer. You know, to keep warm.

“I’d like to think that we could go a single week without tax hikes but it’s seeming more and more like a pipe dream,” she said flatly. “I hate this. I’ve lived among these people for as long as I can remember. Raven’s Roost is my home. When I was a little girl, I always used to think dream about the day that I’d get to raise my own family here. It felt like such a safe and warm place. And now…” She glanced at Magnus before she looked to the sky. “Now most days I feel like things might be easier if I just go somewhere else. And I don’t want that. I want to stay. I want to want to stay. I just don’t know that there’s going to be anything to stay for if this keeps up.”

“I want there to be something here for you,” Magnus murmured quietly, looking at Julia’s profile in the moonlight.

“Magnus, believe me, I don’t want to leave my home. I don’t want to leave –“ She looked at Magnus from the corner of her eye. “I don’t want to leave the people here. I just don’t think I can keep living under Kalen.”

“What if we don’t have to?” The words escaped Magnus’s mouth before he could even make sense of them himself.

Julia lurched and turned to look at Magnus, bewildered. “I’m sorry?”

Magnus had a choice. He could have easily retracted his statement. He could have laughed it off. But instead of thinking it over for any amount of time, he doubled down. “What if we don’t have to keep living under Kalen? What if we could still live here, in Raven’s Roost, but without that tyrant?”

Julia looked around before scooting closer to Magnus, their wind-chapped noses nearly touching. “Are you suggesting…” she took a breath, as though to steel herself. “Are you suggesting a revolt?”

Magnus could barely focus on the question with Julia this close to him. “I-I think I am,” his voice was near silent.

Julia nodded. “Okay. How’re we going to do this?”

Watery winter light did its best to penetrate the frost coated windows of the Hammer and Tongs. Magnus was idly whittling a piece of scrap wood. There weren’t any orders to work on and Candlenights was right around the corner; he figured he could fashion something homemade for both Julia and Steven.

His pocketknife nearly went flying out of his hand when the door of the shop burst open, startling him out of his focus. Standing in the doorway was a young earth genasi he recognized from town. He looked frantic and near tears. Magnus set his project down.

“Hey, Allura, what’s the matter?” Magnus asked, inviting the young man inside and shutting the door behind him.

“Magnus, it’s my dad,” Allura choked out. He looked gaunt and miserable; Magnus thought back to a few months ago when the entire Mountaindeep family came into the Hammer and Tongs, jovially talking about commissioning a crib, as a new baby was on the way. Allura, a kid all of fifteen, had chattered to him for ten minutes about how excited he was to become a big brother. He looked decidedly less excited in that moment.

“What happened?”

“W-we couldn’t pay the tariffs. My dad has been charging everyone half price. H-he said he couldn’t hike the prices up, it wasn’t right. And we couldn’t… Kalen took him away!” he cried, bordering on hysterical.

“Allura, buddy, you gotta breathe, okay? What do you mean Kalen took him?” Magnus led him to a chair.

“H-he hauled him off to the prison and I don’t know what’s gonna happen to him and my m-mom’s giving birth soon and I can’t help with that, I don’t know how,” He managed to get out, hiccupping between every few words, too distraught to calm down.

“Julia!” Magnus called up the staircase in the back of the shop. He had to get this kid to stop crying so he could get the full story and Julia tended to have a calming presence on, well, everyone.

In a moment, she appeared at the bottom of the stairs and sent Magnus a confused look. He nodded towards the crying teenager as explanation.

Julia rushed over, knelt down, and took Allura’s face in her thick hands. “Hey, hon, can you breathe with me?” she cooed gently. And for a few minutes, the shop was silent, save for Julia counting breaths for Allura.

“Can we hear the story again, bud?” Magnus asked quietly after a few moments.

Allura nodded and sniffled. “You guys know that Kalen raised the tariffs. Again. Um. My dad decided to slash his prices, not raise them to keep up. Said he couldn’t. He’s a big follower of Helm and he said it wasn’t right to keep medicines behind a steep price. He just wanted to help people. But Kalen came collecting today and he took my dad. And it’s not just him. He took Mr. Anvilrock and Sevara Mountainwillow and a few other people. And I don’t know what’s going to happen to them,” he said, his voice small and scared.

Magnus and Julia exchanged a look. She sent him a nod and turned back to Allura. “Okay. Thank you for telling us. Do you think that you can do us a favor?”

Allura furrowed his brow but nodded cautiously.

“Go around to the others in the craftsmen corridor and tell them to meet at the Hammer and Tongs tomorrow night? Just tell them it’s really important that everyone come. And if Kalen or his buddies ask you about it, be as vague as you can.” Magnus said seriously.

“If you’re asked about it, say that I’m teaching everyone how to patch their own clothes since Masden had to close down shop. ” Julia offered.

“But what about the curfew?” Allura asked, voice meek and eyes rimmed with red.

Magnus thought for a moment. “Tell everyone that we might have a way to keep us from having to worry about curfew ever again. I just need everyone to trust me.”

“I think I can do that.” Allura said, rising from the chair.

Julia patted him on the shoulder and slipped a gold piece into his hand. Before he could protest, she held her hand up and shooed him out the door.

Magnus rubbed his face for a moment. “Something’s gotta give, Jules.”

Julia reached a tentative hand out to squeeze Magnus’s hand quickly. “After tomorrow, I think something will. I hope.”

“Can either of you tell me why three separate people assured me that they’d do their best to make it to the shop tonight when I stopped in town a little bit ago?” Steven asked from the kitchen table.

Julia avoided her father’s gaze, busying herself with prepping tea instead.

Magnus focused intently on cracking eggs without getting any bits of shell in the bowl. He quickly whisked them together and held off on adding any salt or pepper to the mixture before setting them in the skillet. That was a little tip he picked up from—he thought for a moment—well, from his moms, he supposed. Apparently kept the egg from getting tough or something. He wasn’t really sure what that meant but followed the rule without fail. Made for good eggs, anyway.

“Am I just meant to be okay with the two of you encouraging our friends and neighbors to break the law to come over for a late-night chat?” A stern edge crept into Steven’s voice.

“Steven, we just wanted to have a meeting with the other craftsmen.”

“About what? What’s so important that it requires possibly getting some good people thrown in jail?”

“People are already getting thrown in jail!” Magnus protested. “Allura Mountaindeep came crying in here yesterday. His dad’s in prison, along with a handful of others who couldn’t pay. I just…Steven, you don’t have to agree with what we’re doing but you have to understand. I can’t keep sitting by and watch the town and people I love be beaten down by some big bully.”

Magnus returned his gaze to the eggs. The silence in the kitchen was broken by the teakettle’s shrill whistle.

“We have a plan. And hell, after tonight, it might not even be anything. But Papa, aren’t you tired of struggling? You can be as stoic as you like but I know the truth. This isn’t the life we should all be living. We should be able to have some shred of hope for a future that could matter. A future that isn’t just toiling until we die.” Julia stared at her father as she moved the kettle from the flame.

Steven stared back for a moment before glancing back at Magnus. He let out a sigh. “We can have the meeting but everyone is out before moonrise.”

Magnus and Julia smiled wide.

“Deal.” Magnus said, dividing the eggs between the three plates.

A hush fell over the group of craftmakers who all crammed into the Hammer and Tongs. It was a tight fit but it appeared that most of the corridor had managed to make the meeting. The sun had long since set, leaving only the meekest dregs of light hanging in the sky; moonrise was due in less than an hour. Magnus knew he had to make the meeting quick.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard of the few imprisonments that have come about as a result of Kalen’s new tariffs.” Magnus began, bouncing his gaze across those gathered in the shop.

A grumble of acknowledgement reverberated through the dense crowd.

“And I’m sure you all know that any of us could be subject to the same treatment just for being at this meeting.”

More noises of agreement bubbled up in the crowd.

“Then I’ll make it quick and worth your risk. I hate seeing Raven’s Roost like this. I know in my bones it could be better if things were different. I hate seeing everyone beaten down by these laws. I hate seeing Kalen’s friends allowed to do whatever they want, whenever they want, and never see any kind of repercussions for it. I’m sick of seeing people starving in the streets. Sick of seeing families torn apart because one of them had the audacity to be a kind person. I want Raven’s Roost to be a flourishing place.” He glanced over to Julia and pink stained his cheeks. “I want to be able to raise a family here. I want to want that. But as it stands, I don’t know that I can imagine a future for Raven’s Roost. I don’t know how many of us can last like this for much longer.”

“And what exactly are you proposing we do about it?” Hector Anvilrock, another metalworker in town, demanded.

“We’re proposing a revolution.” Magnus said simply.

The shop erupted in conversation. It began civil enough but quickly devolved into name calling and accusations of espionage and snitching. Magnus’s stomach dropped. He knew it wasn’t going to be an easy sell but if this was any indication, he feared for the future of any kind of revolution.

“Enough!” Julia said, climbing onto a chair. She was already taller than Magnus and nearly as broad so the added height made her the single most imposing figure in the room, though her warm brown eyes added an air of compassion. “I understand it’s a scary thought. But do we really think it’s a better idea to just roll over and get kicked? Sure, Kalen has numbers and power and resources. But we actually have something worth fighting for. We have the most skilled craftspeople on the continent. We have conviction. And we have a goal.” She sighed and rubbed her hand down her face. “I understand if any of you are scared or apprehensive. I won’t make demands. I won’t beg. I want you all to join us but I won’t look down on you for not getting involved. I just want to know that we can trust you.”

She glanced over at Magnus who was watching her, stars in his eyes. She raised her eyebrows at him and sent him a tiny nod.

“Well?” He asked, seeming to snap out of his daze. “Can we trust all of you?”

It felt like the entire show was holding its breath until Hector nodded. And then Allura. And then Therala. One by one, each person in attendance gave a silent pledge.

Magnus grinned, relief flooding his veins. This was only the first step, but they’d already hurdled over it with grace. He was certain they’d be able to make Raven’s Roost a safe place for all someday.

#taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #magnulia #magnus burnsides #julia burnsides #tazb #reese writes #i believe in big buff julia burnsides supremacy #the adventure zone balance #also shout out to me for snatching the rest of these names from the dnd campaign i am currently in <3 #taz balance fic #fic

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myriadimagines · 3 years

Text

Chips and Orange Soda (part ii)

Brooklyn Nine-Nine One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Jake Peralta

Other Characters: Amy Santiago

Warnings: theft, threats of violence

Summary: When a series of bodegas are robbed, Holt assigns Jake and Rosa on the case. You, a cashier, become a suspect, but Jake has a gut feeling that you’re not a suspect at all. In fact, he thinks you’re the key to solving the case.

Part One: Chips and Orange Soda

Word Count: 2,319

A/N: the second part to my submission for @locke-writes‘ writing challenge!! admittedly it gets kind of into an ethical dilemma that i didnt mean to go into and that’s unnecessarily deep but you’ll see what i mean ajskdhas but anyway disclaimer again!! not in law enforcement!!! this is not accurate when it comes to crimes!!! i really hope the reveal/ending isn’t too disappointing and that u guys still enjoyed the story!!! it does get a little more serious in this part but i still hope it’s in character/tone with the show!!

reblog/feedback/comments are very much appreciated!!!

Jake is careful to open up the door of the bodega, which is all bordered up with tape as the shattered glass has yet to be replaced. The inside looks better at least, no longer sectioned off with police tape, and business seems to be going on as usual, with customers in between the aisles and some at the counter. Jake resists the urge to grab a snack for himself, and he glances around the room, frowning as he realises there’s no sight of you.

Jake finally approaches a young man manning the cash register. “Hey man, is y/n in?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry dude, they don’t work Tuesdays.”

Jake smacks the side of his head, remembering how you mentioned it to him. He moves to exit the store when he notices the live security footage playing on the screen behind the counter. Pointing it out, Jake says, “Hey, looks like you got your cameras working again.”

The man looks over his shoulder, before turning back to Jake with furrowed eyebrows. “What?”

Jake frowns slightly, his hand falling to his side. “y/n told me that your cameras were down last week.”

The man remains confused, staring at Jake as if he’s speaking another language. Slowly, he finally responds, “Nah, they’ve been working fine. I don’t know what y/n’s talking about.”

Something inside of Jake’s stomach twists, and he frowns. Despite how hard he’s been trying to defend you, he can’t help but admit to himself that you’re not making it easy. He digs through his pockets, pulling out an old receipt, and he grins to himself as he flips it over and finds your number on the other side. Pulling out his phone, he cringes slightly at his 6% battery level, and he hopes he has enough to make a call.

Dialling in your number, he raises the phone to his ear. It rings a few times before someone finally picks up the phone. Taking in a deep breath, Jake says, “y/n? It’s Jake, the detective from last week. We… we need to talk.”

—

Jake paces around the briefing room, shaking his head as he tries to piece everything together. After coming back to the precinct following his failed attempt to find you at the bodega, Jake had filled up a corkboard with pictures and other small pieces of evidence he and Rosa were able to gather, although it was looking rather sparse. Your lie about the security cameras definitely presents as an obstacle, but he tries not to think the worst of it. He hasn’t told Rosa yet, who had gone out to meet with the forensics team again, fearing what her reaction would be towards you. Maybe you were mistaken, maybe the robbers managed to figure out a way to wipe the footage. But something about the situation doesn’t sit right with Jake, and he lets out a defeated sigh.

“Hey, Jake,” Amy peeks her head inside, knocking at the door, and Jake looks up. She gestures back to the bullpen as she continues, “You’ve got someone here to see you. Sounds like they’ve got some information on the bodega robberies.”

Jake perks up, rushing past Amy out of the room. His eyes widen as he sees you linger by his desk, nervously glancing around the room. He nods as a thank you to Amy before making his way over to you, and he greets, “Hey, y/n, thanks for coming in. How have you been doing?”

You meet Jake’s gaze, and you can’t help but soften at his tone. He seems to genuinely care, and you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. Nodding, you reassure him, “I’m okay. I’m… I’m glad you reached out, actually. There are some things that I need to tell you about. Can we go for a walk?”

Jake hesitates. He knows that he should probably bring you to the interrogation room instead, but he finds himself nodding. He grabs his leather jacket hanging on the back of his chair, and he nods towards the elevator as he remarks, “Sure. Let’s go.”

—

You and Jake make your way through the streets of Brooklyn, finding yourself at a nearby local park. You can’t help but smile at the sight of children running around, squealing at one another as they chase each other in some sort of game, but you can’t ignore the pit in your stomach, the gnawing guilt that has plagued you ever since your first interaction with Jake.

You finally happen upon an empty bench in a quiet corner of the park and you silently take a seat. Jake sits beside you, and your breath begins to tremble. Jake patiently waits for you, eyes wide with concern as he finds himself shifting closer to you, subconsciously wanting to comfort you despite not knowing what’s to come.

“I… I haven’t told you everything that I know about the bodega.” you finally confess, and Jake takes in a deep breath. He nods slowly, silently urging you to continue, and you look up to meet his gaze as you continue, “I know who did it. And the other robberies, too.”

Jake stares at you, and you can tell it’s clearly a lot of information to take in. He presses his lips together, trying to process all this, before he quietly asks, “You’re trying to protect someone, aren’t you?”

Your expression crumples, and your shoulders slump as you bury your face in your hands. You swore to yourself you wouldn’t cry, but as the overwhelming reality of the situation begins to sink in, you’re suddenly finding it hard to breathe. Jake’s expression falls, and despite knowing that the two of you are practically strangers, he wraps an arm around you, gently rubbing his hand up and down your arm as he tries to soothe you.

“It feels like I’ve been trying to protect him all my life, but I- I feel like I can’t, anymore.” you manage to say through sobs, and Jake frowns, eyebrows furrowing in concern. Gulping, you finally reveal, “My brother.”

Jake sucks in a sharp breath. He’s all too familiar himself with broken homes, with strained familial relationships. You’re almost afraid to look at him, but Jake’s expression is one of understanding, of sympathy. He gently reassures you, “Take all the time you need, alright?”

You nod, trying to compose yourself the best you can. You fold your hands into your lap, perhaps a poor attempt at stopping them from shaking, and you manage to hold your tears back long enough for you to begin explaining, “It was always just me and my brother, you know? My single mom had to raise us, but we barely saw her because she was always working. But my brother and I always had each other’s backs, and I thought it would be that way forever.”

You’re distracted as a pair of kids dart past you, and Jake notices the bittersweet smile that appears on your face as you watch them. Quietly, he prompts, “When did you feel like things started to go wrong?”

“I mean, my brother was always a rowdy kid, always getting into trouble, but it just kept getting worse and worse. I’d try to bail him out, but there was only so much I could do.” you continue. “As we got older, I started seeing him less and less. He’d show up whenever he needed help, but that was it. Until he showed up the night before the bodega robbery.”

“He came to see you?” Jake’s eyes widen in alarm, and you nod. You can feel a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach as you think back to that night, and you uneasily run your hands through your hair.

“I didn’t know he had robbed those other bodegas. But he came around asking for me to let him and his friend in, basically. Asked me for the key. I told him no, that I could just lend him money, and he… he got angry.” your voice shakes slightly as you stare off at some point in the distance. “We’ve had our fights, obviously, but this was different. I was almost scared of him.”

You screw your eyes shut as you remember seeing the smashed in front door, the fear swallowing you whole as you worried what might happen next. Jake doesn’t try to prompt you further, knowing how difficult this must be for you, and he lets out a soft sigh as he wishes that you didn’t have to go through such a thing.

“I don’t want him to go to jail. I just want him to be okay.” you can feel your words getting caught in your throat as you struggle to continue speaking. “But he doesn’t even feel like my brother anymore. That night was just… I- I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“What about the cameras?” Jake quietly asks.

“That was me.” you sigh, nervously wringing your hands together. “I couldn’t sleep that night, so eventually, I… I just got up and went to see if he had really done it. Part of me still had hope that maybe he didn’t. When I saw the door broken in it just… crushed me. I almost feel like he did it on purpose, to scare me. But I still wanted to protect him, so I… I went in to delete the security footage, and rushed out before anyone could see me.”

Jake leans back onto the bench. This is it, he realises. With your revelations, it seems as though the case is solved. But seeing the heartbreak on your face doesn’t make the solved case as satisfying as it usually is.

“I just feel like I’ve failed him.” your shoulders slump, your voice barely audible. “He’s my family I have, and I just… I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

“Hey, you didn’t fail him, y/n,” Jake gently insists, and to your surprise, he reaches out to take your hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’ve been an awesome sibling, better than he deserves, really. But he chose to do this, and that’s not on you.”

You nod, trying your best to believe him, and from the earnest expression on Jake’s face, you feel like you could. You manage to muster up a smile, and Jake smiles back at you. Nodding back in the direction of the precinct, Jake tells you, “I do need you to need you to come back to the precinct to make a statement. But you’ve really helped us, y/n, and you did the right thing.”

A part of you has doubts, but you try your best to take comfort in Jake’s words. Jake gets to his feet, and you stand up with him, and Jake offers you a small smile that reassures you that everything will be okay.

—

You bump the cash machine closed with your elbow as you count out some change. Sliding it over to the customer alongside their bag of snacks, you politely smile at them before they step aside to leave. You wave the next customer in line forward, only to realise it’s Jake standing before you, and your eyes widen as he offers you a sheepish grin. He steps up to the counter, placing down a bag of chips and a bottle of orange soda, and you exchange a knowing smile as you lean forward, “Hey, Jake. Did… did everything go alright?”

“We got him and his buddy.” Jake confirms, and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “They tried to give us the slip, but I chased after them.”

You narrow your eyes slightly, and Jake quickly corrects himself, “Okay, Rosa chased after them, but that doesn’t matter.”

You laugh, and Jake snorts with you before continuing, “There’ll be a trial, obviously. I’ll give you more updates when I hear them.”

You nod, before sliding Jake’s stuff back to him. You don’t even bother ringing his purchase up as you tell him, “It’s on the house.”

“What? No.” Jake hurriedly searches through his pockets for some change. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s the least I can do.” you insist. Jake offers you some cash, but you shake your head. “Seriously, Jake, thank you, for everything.”

You reach out, closing Jake’s hand, and your gaze lingers on one another as your hand remains on his. He smiles, and Jake feels like his heart might beat out of his chest as you smile back at him. Before he can stop himself, he blurts, “Do you want to get dinner with me sometime?”

You blink at him in surprise, and Jake winces as he worries he might’ve blown it. Stammering, he continues, “It’s, uh, my way of saying thank you. For helping us solve the case. And for the snacks.”

Jake watches as a smile spreads across your face, and you chew on your lip as if trying to contain your happiness. “Is this a date?”

Jake grins at you. “It can be.”

“Just tell me when and where.” you nod excitedly, and Jake beams at you. “I’d love to go out with you, Jake.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jake claps his hands together. He scoops up his snacks, backing away as he continues, “Hey, I’ve got to run back to the precinct, but I’ll text you, okay?”

“Got it.” you nod, grinning from ear to ear. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch Jake clumsily try to open the door, but he stops himself.

“Oh! By the way,” Jake spins around on his heel. “Do you guys sell batteries?”

“Um,” you glance over your shoulder at the inventory behind you. “We’ve got some. What kind do you need?”

“It’s for a clock.” Jake sighs, and you raise an eyebrow at his reaction. “It’s… a long story.”

tag list: @myfriendmagislit / @thedamagedcne / @real-fbi / @writinqss / @thisismysecrethappyplace / @natalia-helena-alianova-romanov / @dontjudgemepeepswrites / @hauntedpocdreamer / @locke-writes / @lgbtonystarks / @fangirlsarah16 / @kittensanddarkclouds / @randomfandomimagine / @ofthedewthesunlight / @bravelittlesunflower / @gothicwidowsworld / @halfofwhatisayismeaningless / @amirahiddleston / @interwebseriesfan24

#reader x jake peralta #jake peralta x reader #b99 imagine #b99 #b99 one shot #jake peralta #jake peralta one shot #imagine #imagines #reader insert #oneshot #one shot

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dxrkdreamer · 3 years

Text

How I nearly killed Sukuna... A narrative (Yuji x Reader x Sukuna Crack)

Part 1/?

Word count: 1.3 k

Genre: crack and a bit of fluff and a bit of angst and a sprinkle of crazy

Warnings: mentions of blood and a car accident

A/N: Hi everyone! This was inspired by the show Dead to me (if you haven’t watched it you’re missing out *cries*) and I thought it would be fun to write my own version of the story but with men from JJK.

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“Ugh I’m a grown fucking adult why am I being treated like a fucking 5 year old!” you yelled to yourself in your car, the angsty music blaring loudly. Yep, what a great way to start your day at 6 am. You had gotten into a dispute with your mom when you came downstairs in the early hours of the morning to bake muffins. And now you were rage driving down a forested path just off your town, it was a common path for early morning joggers because it was peaceful and usually vehicle free. And usually free of crazy girls driving above the speed limit.

You had finished your final year of your undergraduate, and like most you had no idea what the heck you wanted to do with your life. So you came back to the town you grew up in…. To live with your parents until you figured something out, or atleast found a job related to your field. Annoyingly enough, most of the kids in your highschool seemed to have come back too, and you ran into a few familiar faces, much to your dread.

“First fucking Mai has the audacity to tell me I dress like I’m stuck in the 90s, then my mom has to say I should slow down on my fucking eating. I’ll eat whatever the fuck I want, its not hurting anyone!” you rambled on “The 90s had good fashion! And my outfit was cute! And I’m trying to grow my booty, ofcourse I’ll gain some fucking weight- WOAH” you yelped swerving your car as you hit… a deer, shutting your eyes tightly as your car came to a halt. Praying that it was a pink deer you hit. Okay, breathe in, breathe out (Y/N), you gulped opening your eyes as you stepped out of the car. Your shaky legs carried to the scene as you repeated the deer mantra.

“It was just a pink dear that was standing on its hind legs… s’okay it's just a possibly dead-”

You froze as you felt your soul leave you, and it seemed even the angel of death was disgusted by you and had thrown your soul back into your body as your vision cleared and your mouth started trembling.

“A possibly dead Sukuna….” well fawk “Yeah no way am I getting caught for this” and with adrenaline pumping in you and a new found strength in your legs, you jumped in your car and drove off to the nearest clearing, hopping out and jogging back towards the body, pulling out your phone.

“Hello, 911 what’s your emergency”

“Hi! There's, uhhh there's-” you stuttered as reality was hitting you in waves as you stared down at the horror “There’s a body… It’s still breathing and there's a lot of blood…”

-----

You drove back home in silence, and went straight to your bed without uttering a word to your family.

You were terrified because you almost killed a man. Fucking Sukuna of all men. He was the very handsome high school bully. Very loved and feared. “He had it coming from someone anyways” you grumbled, he had definitely harassed and made at least half the student body cry. He was two years older than you and relentless as ever.

Second, you lied to the fucking cops. And you were the first witness on the scene. They wouldn’t call again would they? You gulped hiding under the covers. I need to leave town! You thought, but as you checked your bank account you realized without a job it was not ideal to do.

“Ughhhhhh, I almost killed a man holy shit” you groaned, slumping and hiding deeper. “I can’t leave my house ever again” The dread settled in and pulled you deeper into your guilty consciousness and you felt like you would throw up for the millionth time today.

That lasted about 3 days until you realized you were hungry and wholesome home cooked meals were not cutting it. You needed fat and sugar.

“All dressed chips or… barbecue” You wondered, your thumb played with your lip as you analyzed your options “or maybe even cheetos?” It may be awhile until you leave your house again so you piled all three in your arms, your basket already full of other goodies. You took another glance at the aisle as you began walking down towards the checkout, passing by the produce section “And I guess strawberries…. For health” you grumbled picking up the small container, barely able to balance your basket, the chips and berries in your two hands.

“Almost there… almost there” You kept walking, rounding the corner and-

“Fuck! Ouch!” You groaned as someone’s cart banged against you and you dropped your chips, much to your horror, oh and dropped the berries too that were now crushed under the cart’s wheel, staining the floor in red, almost like blood... you grimaced.

“I’m so sorry I should have watched where I was going! Are you okay! Again, I’m so sorry!” you heard a familiar voice and saw a tuft of pink hair crouching down to pick up your items. And for a second time you felt what it was like to have your soul leave your body, and then be rejected and thrown back down.

“Uh, it’s okay” You mumbled, grabbing the things from his hand, turning around, ready to run away and never come back.

“Hey, wait (Y/N)?” he grabbed your elbow turning you around to face him “Hey! How are you?! Did you forget about me already!” he smiled brightly and then pouted at the end.

Dear God…. “What! Yuji! Sorry I couldn’t recognize you for a sec!” You cringed at how shrill your voice must have sounded. “How’s uhh..” How’s Sukuna? “How was university? Are you back too?”

“Oh yeah, I just came back a few days ago, I was looking for a job where I was living before but my brother sort of... got into an accident” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Oh I heard” Shut the fuck up for two seconds please “I mean, I saw him on my morning jog” I hit him I’m so sorry I’m such a pussy.

“You what” his eyes were wide “Were you the one who called? Oh my God, thank you so much (Y/N)! He’s probably only alive because of you!” He gasped and pulled you in for a hug.

He’s also almost dead ‘cuz of me… You shook your head and hugged him back, wrapping your arms around him back and pulling him in tightly and rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder. “Yuji…” you mumbled about tearing up, his strong arms and warmth soothed you and you wanted to rest your head against his chest and confess your sins. But he had enough before you could open your mouth and pulled away shortly after apologizing for his outburst.

“It’s no problem Yuji, How is he anyways…” You asked, biting your lip nervously.

“Well, he’s alive” he chuckled dryly “but he’s in a coma, but the doctors said he’d wake up soon, hopefully” you noticed how he was clenching his fists in his pockets. “If anything he probably had it coming anyways” he laughed

“That's what I thought too!” You yelled and then covered your mouth from embarrassment of your inappropriate outburst, but Yuji just looked at you and burst out laughing even harder.

And his next words hit you hard.

“Wanna hang out? I could use the company, my parents are driving me mad” he shyly asked, trying to act casual about it.

And for the nth time today your mouth spoke without permission “Sure! That sounds great!”

#sukuna x reader #yuji x reader #yuji itadori x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #yuji itadori #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk crack #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen crack #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuji itadori

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