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#death of a parent tw
set-phasers-to-whump · 5 months
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whumptober 2023 masterpost!
day 1 - "how many fingers am i holding up?" - illya kuryakin
day 2 - thermometer - illya kuryakin
day 3 - broken - sakari nurmi
day 4 - shock - illya kuryakin
day 5 - "it's broken" - illya kuryakin
day 6 - "it should have been me" - gereon rath
day 7 - alleyway, radio silence, "can you hear me?" - john reese
day 8 - outnumbered - illya kuryakin
day 9 - shaking - illya kuryakin
day 10 - broken phone - shawn spencer
day 11 - animal trap - eddie diaz
day 12 - red - eddie diaz
day 13 - cold compress, "i don't feel so good" - eddie diaz
day 14 - water inhalation - illya kuryakin
day 15 - makeshift bandages - sakari nurmi
day 16 - brass knuckles - illya kuryakin
day 17 - "leave me alone" - illya kuryakin
day 18 - tortured for information, "hit them harder" - peter sutherland
day 19 - aftermath of failure - sonny carisi
day 20 - blanket, found family - milosz nowak
day 21 - "don't move" - shawn spencer
day 22 - glass shard - gereon rath
day 23 - shadows, "who's there?" - william murdoch
day 24 - examination - william murdoch
day 25 - storm - illya kuryakin
day 26 - seeing double, working to exhaustion, "you look awful" - sakari nurmi
day 27 - "let me see" - peter sutherland
day 28 - bloody knife - neal caffrey
day 29 - troubled past resurfacing - sakari nurmi
day 30 - borrowed clothing - sakari nurmi
day 31 - "take it easy" - john reese
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lady-wallace · 5 months
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Whumptober Day 24 - "Runaway Train" (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)
Narancia angst and Dadbacchio for today's @whumptober !
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Prompts Used: Goodbye Note, Neglect, "I thought they were with you' Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Character: Narancia
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Read on Ao3
Read on FF.net
~~~~~~~
Narancia paced around his room, holding the half-crumpled note in his hand undecidedly, reading over and over his messy scrawl, half of it scratched out. It wasn't like he wanted to do this but…maybe he had jumped the gun a little with his excitement about his new team and frankly, Narancia wasn't interested in being someplace he wasn't wanted anymore.
Part of him wanted to wait for Bucciarati to return so he could apologize to him, explain in person—the man had done so much for him it only seemed right, but he recalled Bucciarati's fury back in the hospital when he had told Narancia not to join Passione, and the thought of facing him now felt like a defeat, like Bucciarati had been right the whole time.
And Abbacchio…well. Narancia couldn't even face Abbacchio again after the screw-up earlier that had led to all this.
He'd started out so confident too, excited for his first real mission, not just running messages and collecting protection money. That day he and Abbacchio had been sent out on a real job, to retrieve an important hard drive with—probably—top secret information on it.
He had been grateful for the distraction, if he were being honest. Everything sucked lately. He couldn't do the math problems Fugo had taught him a million times, leaving the other teen to blow up at him. He'd accidently skipped a whole street of collections he and Abbacchio had gone out to do the day before, leaving Bucciarati to have to go back and take care of them himself. And…well…he already felt like shit because it was that time of year again, and it always hurt, no matter where he was or what he was doing.
So being trusted to accompany Abbacchio on a mission was a boost to his confidence and a welcome distraction.
Until everything had gone to shit and he had messed up big time.
"Okay, listen up," Abbacchio was saying. "We're going to go in and grab the hard drive and that's it."
"Got it."
"You follow my lead."
Narancia followed his lead until they were surprised by a guy who jumped out and split with the hard drive before they could grab it.
Abbacchio swore as he started to give chase but Narancia stepped forward, summoning his Stand.
"Hold on, I got this!" he shouted excitedly, and executed a strafing run with Aerosmith. The runaway cried out, stumbling as he took several bullet wounds, but he was running toward a waiting car, holding out the hard drive to the driver.
"Aerosmith!"
"Hey, wait! The drive is—"
But Narancia was only thinking about making sure the bad guys didn't run off with the hard drive and unloaded Aerosmith's guns into the guy's hand, riddling the hard drive with bullets until it burst into flames. The guy cried out, throwing it aside and leapt into the car before it sped off with a screech of tires.
Narancia grinned and whooped. "All right! Mission accomplished."
"What the hell were you thinking?" 
Narancia was spun around by Abbacchio grabbing his shoulder, fury on the goth's face as he loomed over Narancia. 
"We needed that hard drive, you idiot! It had vital information on it!"
Narancia shrank back. "But I…"
"And now because of you, the drive is destroyed and the only guy who might know what's on it got away. Nice one, idiot!"
Narancia tried to bite back the sudden lump in his throat, heart pounding as his elation deflated. "I…I'm so—"
"Save it," Abbacchio snarled. "Now I'm gonna have to tell Bucciarati so he can explain this to Polpo. We're gonna look like a fucking joke—next time…you know what, why do I even bother? It's all in one ear out the other with you, isn't it?"
Narancia followed him silently toward the car. He climbed in and had to fight back tears the whole ride back, feeling awful inside. Abbacchio refused to look at him or say anything, simply driving back to the apartment with a tired look on his face.
Narancia tried again to speak when they got in the door. 
"A-Abbacchio, I'm really am sorry I screwed up—"
The man simply shouldered past him and went directly to his room, slamming the door.
Narancia stood there for a long moment before he too went to his room, crawling under his blankets.
He could hear when Bucciarati came home, Abbacchio greeting him stiffly before he explained what had happened.
"You gotta figure out what to do with that kid," Abbacchio snapped. 
"I know," Bucciarati sighed, and Narancia felt his heart sink further at his tone. "I was afraid he wasn't cut out for it, and maybe I was right."
Another arrow to the heart. Narancia curled further into the bed.
"Do you need me to—"
"No, I'll handle the clean-up on this one. I need to go report to Polpo now."
The day's events would not stop playing over and over in Narancia's head as he stood in his room, indecision tearing him apart. He really thought he'd found a place here, but he'd thought the same thing when he'd been with his old crew too. He'd been so inspired by Bucciarati and Fugo, that he had wanted nothing more than to follow them, but maybe he didn't fit in here either. After all, who wanted a screw up around?
He finally released his pent-up breath and laid the letter down on the messily made bed.
It was better to leave.
He grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder before listening at the door. When he could hear no one up and about, he slipped out and left the apartment, walking out into the night.
XXX
Abbacchio got up early, making coffee. He winced in sympathy as Bucciarati came into the kitchen yawning, his hair still a mess. He'd been out late fixing the mission Abbacchio and Narancia had screwed up and the ex-cop was still pissed about it.
"How did it go?" he asked.
"Not quite over yet, but it won't take too much longer," Bruno murmured, gratefully accepting a mug of coffee as he checked the time. "Can you go out and finish the collection today? I won't have time for it."
"Of course," Abbacchio said. "Give me the list of places I still need to hit."
Bruno nodded and fetched the list. "Oh, and…take Narancia with you. I'm sure he's feeling bad about yesterday and an easy job will help boost his confidence."
Abbacchio sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, all right."
"Go easy on him," Bruno said. "It's…I believe his mother died around this time of year. He's been trying to hide it but I can tell he's down."
Abbacchio felt a pang of sympathy for the kid in his chest. It wasn't that he disliked Narancia at all—the kid was hyper and loud and definitely a little shit, but he was kind of growing on Leone. He honestly felt a little bad for not checking in on Narancia the day before. He knew how bad it could feel to screw up and he had been pretty unforgiving toward Narancia. But he'd spent the afternoon calming down and it looked like he might get an opportunity to talk to the kid today instead.
Bruno left after a quick breakfast and Abbacchio went to get dressed before knocking on Narancia's door.
"Hey, kid? You feel like going out today?"
No answer. Abbacchio knocked again, harder. "Narancia!"
Still no answer.
Abbacchio huffed a sigh but decided to forget it. The kid was probably sulking. He didn't have time to wait around for a sad teenager anyway. Maybe he'd coax Narancia out with pizza for lunch and have a chat with him instead.
He headed out and finished up the protection collection quickly before heading back. He stopped by their usual pizza place and picked up a couple for lunch.
Fugo was back from his own errands by then as well, drawn out with the promise of pizza.
Abbacchio headed to Narancia's room and knocked on the door. "Hey kid, there's pizza."
He waited, but there was still no answer. Frowning, Abbacchio finally opened the door, peeking inside but saw that Narancia was actually nowhere to be found. His bed was even made.
Abbacchio headed back out to the kitchen where Fugo was grabbing a slice.
"Hey, where's Narancia?" Abbacchio asked him.
Fugo gave him an odd look. "I thought he was with you. Bucciarati said you two were doing collection today."
A weird feeling started in Abbacchio's gut, leaving him no longer hungry for the pizza. "He didn't go with me, I knocked on his door this morning and he didn't answer. Did you see him at all?"
Fugo shook his head, his own brow furrowed in worry. "No."
The front door opened and shut and the two looked up hopefully, but deflated slightly when they saw it was Bucciarati.
"Ah, is that pizza I smell? I'm starving."
"Bucciarati, do you have any idea where Narancia might be?" Fugo asked.
Bruno paused with a slice halfway to his mouth looking between Fugo and Abbacchio. "What do you mean? Didn't he go with you today, Abbacchio?"
Abbacchio turned to head back to Narancia's room, stepping inside this time as he looked around, wondering, what? If the kid was hiding like a stray cat?
It was then he saw the crumpled piece of paper on the bed and bent to pick it up, unfolding it.
There were a lot of blacked out bits as if Narancia had re-written it several times, but at the bottom was a couple scrawled sentences:
"Not sure this team is the best fit for me so I decided it was best that I leave. Thanks for giving me a new start—Narancia"
Abbacchio ran back out to the kitchen. "Bucciarati!"
Bucciarati and Fugo looked over the note. Fugo swore.
"That damned idiot!"
Bruno looked worried. "I should have talked to him last night."
"It's not on you," Abbacchio muttered, tucking the note into his pocket. "I'm the one who got pissed and yelled at him."
"You're not the only one," Fugo sighed. "Where do you think he might have gone, Bucciarati?"
"I don't know, but I think we need to go look for him now before he does something he regrets. The last thing I want is for him to beg Polpo to put him with another crew. I don't want him getting into the shit some of the other teams deal with."
Abbacchio and Fugo nodded in agreement and they wordlessly headed out of the apartment, splitting up to look for their missing member.
Abbacchio found him relatively quickly to his relief, sitting on a bench outside of Libecchio with a stuffed backpack sitting between his feet.
Abbacchio crossed the street, taking a deep breath as he thought about what he could say.
When he finally stopped by the bench, he said, "What are you doing out here, kid?"
Narancia startled and looked up at him in surprise before glancing back down. "Was gonna go inside to eat but…don't have any money."
Abbacchio stepped around him to sit down on the other end of the bench. "You know all you have to do is tell them you're part of Bucciarati's team and they'll give you a meal on the house."
Narancia glanced over at him. "Yeah, but I'm not anymore, am I?" he said bitterly.
Abbacchio raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I saw your note, but the thing is, Bucciarati actually has to okay you leaving the team and moving to another one or whatever you were planning on doing."
Narancia looked down, hands gripping the straps of his backpack. "So I screwed up again." He sighed. "Let's go back then so I can be officially fired."
"Narancia," Abbacchio caught his shoulder before he could get up. "You're not fired. Look, I'm sorry for blowing up at you yesterday, I was just pissed you didn't take a second to listen to a plan. But we've all made mistakes. You just…learn to do better the next time. You know how many screw-ups Bucciarati's had to smooth over for Fugo and me? You're not the only one. But listen." He turned to Narancia and the boy looked up at him cautiously. "This job isn't a game. It's dangerous, and next time, failing to listen to orders might get you or someone else killed. You're the one who made the decision to join Passione despite Bucciarati telling you not too—don't do something stupid and put your death on his hands."
Narancia looked down and Abbacchio cleared his throat, softening his voice slightly. "That being said, as much as I hate to admit it, I think you'll be a good addition to the team."
Narancia perked up slightly, with a small smile. "I'm sorry. I know I don't make great decisions all the time. It's just…this week hadn't been great and I'm kinda extra messed up right now, you know?"
"Yeah, I get it," Abbacchio replied before he stood, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Come on. If you're hungry, we have pizza at home."
Narancia stood, blinking in surprise as he pulled his backpack over his shoulders. "So…that's it? I just get to go back to the apartment and eat pizza?"
"I'm not saying Bucciarati isn't going to have a talk with you, but you're not getting kicked out or anything."
Narancia's shoulders slumped in relief, before he hesitated. "Um…Abbacchio? Would it be okay to make a quick stop first?"
XXX
Narancia stopped beside his mother's grave, taking a breath before bending to place the small bunch of flowers he had picked on the way. Abbacchio stood off to one side respectfully. It was nice, actually. It had been a long time since Narancia had visited his mother's grave with anyone else. Obviously, his father couldn't be bothered to give a shit about anything, not even his dead wife—or his living son.
"I guess she probably wouldn't be proud of me, huh?" Narancia muttered. "I mean…I'm not exactly doing the best work."
"I don't know about that," Abbacchio spoke up. "I like to think it's all in how you go about it. The world is an unjust place and it's left up to you to find justice for yourself, no matter what you have to do to get there."
Narancia looked up at him, surprised. "Yeah, I like the sound of that."
He set his hand on the gravestone before pulling away.
"Ready to head back?" Abbacchio asked.
Narancia nodded and as Abbacchio started to turn away, he impulsive ran to the older man and threw his arms around him.
Abbacchio froze in surprise, but Narancia squeezed him once before pulling back.
"Thanks, Abbacchio," he said, smiling up at his new teammate.
Abbacchio huffed a breath and actually smiled back, reaching out to ruffle a hand through his hair. "Come on, kid. Let's go home."
~~~~~~~
Check out my Whumptober Masterpost HERE for more stories!
If you want to follow me on other social media or ask about fic or art commissions, find my info on My Carrd
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whiskeysmulti · 7 months
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.Whiskey.
@videcoeur your tags on this post woke me up! Hope you don't mind the random tag just to vent my own issues with the health care system, but yeah I 100% agree it's fucked.
I am someone who has chronic illness and a life long disability that could one day warrant a transplant like that, and guess what? It's one of the only things my insurance won't cover.
I have only 1 kidney and the things I do not qualify for are dental, eye, dialysis, and transplants.
My dad was a donor when he died and they waited so long to get to him to take the organs that he had already started to break down so his whole body was swelling so badly by the time they got there all that was salvageable was bone marrow, plus his body continued to swell after the enbalming and it lead to us having to make a last minute decision to do his services as closed casket/memorial. #American health care
On the flip side, my niece's mom has donated a kidney, marrow, liver, blood, and so many other things that have saved people in need. So there are some good stories, but the bad outweighs them it seems.
So I agree, organ donation would be a wonderful thing, if the system didn't fuck it up all the time and actually made it accessible to those who really need it and not just those whose insurance will cover it.
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stardustedstories · 4 months
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Riftan is not afraid of dying. There was one point when he had been, when he was about twelve years old and almost died from accidentally swallowing venom from a creature of the dragon subspecies, when he saved Maximilian’s life when they were children. It was the first time since he could remember that his mother actually cared for him.
But after her death, and after he ran away from home to become a mercenary, he no longer feared death. In some ways, he sought it out with how reckless he was. He would very frequently think things along the lines of ‘would it be so bad to die?’ showing that he hold very little regard for his own life.
He fully expected that he would die during the Dragon Campaign, as well. Riftan never anticipated that not only would he live through the war, but he would be the one to kill Sektor. It was one of the reasons he wanted Maximilian to go to Calypse Castle, because if he died, then at least his home would have someone to care for it in his stead.
While he’s not nearly as reckless now as he has been in the past, he still cares very little for his own life, valuing others far above himself.
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🕯️(CANDLE): Do you have any dead relatives? Do you miss them?
oh, you’re hitting hard, huh? never really knew my folks. i was too young to really remember them. so it doesn’t really bother me, but i’m sure i make them proud anyhow.
-blue
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anchormuses · 2 years
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VERSE: PRE-UNIVERSITY    /    CHILD VERSE.
( trigger warnings for: emotional abuse. death of a parent. grief. suicidal thoughts. )
        is your muse an adult? do they do interesting things? do they in any way resemble a decent person? in that case, consider adopting morse! morse would like to spend time with them! he will approach them, will follow them around, will wander straight into danger after them. he is now taking applications for new parents and the only criteria are: a) will not emotionally abuse him, and b) not dead. 
canon variant.        morse is a sensitive child. loving and gentle and kind. he takes care of his mother when she gets sick. talks to strangers and animals alike. when his mother dies, he’s heartbroken. he would have loved the family he’s sent to live with, if they’d let him. in this verse, he lives with his father and stepmother after his mother’s death. his father doesn’t particularly like him, and his stepmother is downright emotionally abusive towards him. he’d rather be anywhere else. he needs a friend. a mentor. anyone at all. ( works for muses who won’t take him in, but will still interact with him. take him on some nice days out or something. )
au variant.        morse wants nothing more than to go home, but home is not a place that exists any longer. he is orphaned at the age of twelve. he has his stepmother, but he’s desperate to hatch a plan to find literally anyone else who might be willing to take him in. ( works for muses who would take morse in. we can invent distant blood relations if you prefer! )
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nicholasbaudelaire · 2 years
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what is your favorite memory of your siblings?
Best memory is actually a bitter sweet one. I just broke up with my ex not long after I turned, the pack still wasn't keen on me for changing without their permission, and every night that week I'd gone home to a quiet house, Layne was studying, Matty was working, and I felt really lonely.
But that night when I got home in wolf form, I noticed a change of clothes had been left out for me on the back porch, and I could hear Matty and Layne bickering inside. When I checked through the window, I could see the light were on, music was playing, Matty cooking while Layne was looking through a stack of films, and they were clearly arguing over what we were going to watch.
It sounds really boring but it was just what I needed to come home to. They'd left clothes out for me, there was food, and when I did go in, we ate and bickered and watched films until we all passed out in the living room. We could have turned out so differently, we could have been really alone after mum died and dad left, but we didn't; we stuck together, looked out for each other. In a lot of ways we became each other's parents, even me; the baby!
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@matthewbaudelaire @laynebaudelaire
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tothevines · 2 years
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real bummer how now when i’m craving one (1) little cigarette, my brain says “remember how your dad died from those?”
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pagesiores · 2 months
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well  dear  readers  it  seems  that  {  francesca  bridgerton  }  has  been  seen  preparing  for  the  upcoming  season  and  they  go  by  {  miss  francesca  bridgerton  }.  it’s  been  said  that  they  resemble  {  fiona  palomo  }  but  we  can’t  see  it,  although  we  noticed  they  have  reached  the  age  of  {  twenty  five  }.  whenever  we  see  them  we  are  quickly  reminded  of  {  the  smell  of  warm  vanilla  perfume,  delicate  bows  tying  caramel  locks  back,  hidden  smiles  behind  history  books  }.  we  can’t  wait  to  see  them  make  their  way  through  this  season.
francesca  bridgerton  was  born  as  francesca  cardenas  into  a  wealthy  family  in  mexico  before  they  moved  to  england.  to  their  surprise,  they  were  met  with  welcome  arms,  especially  from  the  bridgerton  family.  she  was  young  when  they  moved  to  england,  and  francesca  doesn’t  remember  much  from  her  home  country. 
death  tw  /  but  when  francesca  was  only  four  years  old  in  england,  her  parents  died  in  a  tragic  accident.  having  no  other  family  in  england,  and  none  back  home,  the  bridgertons  decided  to  take  her  in.  they  treated  her  as  her  own,  and  she  fit  in  with  them  as  if  she  was  from  their  family  all  along.
however,  that  didn’t  mean  that  other  people  didn’t  whisper  about  her.  they  would  always  make  sure  she  couldn’t  hear  their  entire  conversation,  but  as  she  grew  older  and  went  out  into  society,  she  slowly  retreated  farther  into  her  shell  and  became  less  outgoing  to  those  she  wasn’t  close  to.
but  then  a  few  seasons  ago,  francesca  got  really  close  to  one  suitor  who  managed  to  bring  her  out  of  her  shell.  she  thought  it  was  love  at  first  sight,  something  that  she  was  convinced  was  only  in  fairy  tales,  but  they  managed  to  get  past  all  her  barriers  and  walls.  but  for  reasons,  the  engagement  fell  through,  leaving  francesca  heartbroken  and  rebuilding  her  walls  once  again. 
but  she  still  isn’t  sure  whether  or  not  she  will  reenter  during  the  season,  but  one  of  the  goals  she  has  for  herself  is  that  she  does  branch  out  a  bit  more.  too  often,  she  is  a  wallflower  at  parties  and  social  events,  and  she  knows  that  she  needs  to  branch  out  and  befriend  other  people  in  the  ton.
WANTED PLOTS
friends  growing  up  that  are  still  in  her  close  circle,  they  probably  understand  her  reservations  and  try  to  get  her  to  come  out  of  her  shell
new  friends  that  maybe  already  are  getting  past  her  walls  ! 
this  one  would  need  some  plotting  but  someone  give  me  the  person  who  cancelled  their  engagement  i  want  Angst
a  bad  influnece,  please  get  francesca  out  of  her  shell  and  make  bad  decisions  for  once  !
i'm  honestly  up  for  anything  !  vibes  here  only  no  thoughts 
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storiedhistories · 6 months
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Riftan is not afraid of dying. There was one point when he had been, when he was about twelve years old and almost died from accidentally swallowing venom from a creature of the dragon subspecies, when he saved Maximilian's life when they were children. It was the first time since he could remember that his mother actually cared for him.
But after her death, and after he ran away from home to become a mercenary, he no longer feared death. In some ways, he sought it out with how reckless he was. He would very frequently think things along the lines of 'would it be so bad to die?' showing that he hold very little regard for his own life.
He fully expected that he would die during the Dragon Campaign, as well. Riftan never anticipated that not only would he live through the war, but he would be the one to kill Sektor. It was one of the reasons he wanted Maximilian to go to Calypse Castle, because if he died, then at least his home would have someone to care for it in his stead.
While he's not nearly as reckless now as he has been in the past, he still cares very little for his own life, valuing others far above himself.
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one-time-i-dreamt · 3 months
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My parents wanted to euthanise me, because I was 18 and ‘it was about time’.
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moider-time · 1 year
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Y'know what I want? I want sick Bruce Wayne.
I want a Bruce that babies his kids when they're sick. He goes all out. 6'4 muscle-bound Jason Todd is getting tucked into bed with a kiss on the forehead to check his temperature and whines if Bruce forgets.
As good as his memory is, Bruce can't exactly remember what Thomas and Martha used to do when he was sick. They had a routine but the intricacies of it constantly escape him. As little as that may be, it does pang every now and again that he's forgetting them, forgetting how they loved him. He doesn't want that for any of his kids.
So he babies them, treats them like the little kids he knows they aren't and rarely if ever got to be. He deals with any vomit, tears or just general irritation that comes with being sick. It gets to point where when the kids are sick and Bruce isn't home, they can barely function.
Dick: THIS IS IT- THIS IS THE END
Wally: dude you just have a cold?
Dick: JUST A- JUST A COLD?!? WALLY, ARE YOU INSANE?? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO MANAGE WITHOUT MY HOT CHOCOLATE AND HOME MADE BUNNY MARSHMALLOWS??!?
Wally: ok one, bunny marshmallows? adorable. and two, i've seen you walk off a fractured collarbone, two bruised ribs and a twisted ankle???
Dick: ....yeah but the marshmallows
Wally:
But Bruce? Oh when Bruce is sick, he powers through. But when he's so sick he considers himself a liability, he curls up in a small, dark room like a pregnant cat. It's practically instinct for him – when he's compromised like that, he needs to be in a place that he's knows is safe.
Very Sick Bruce also goes into Mama Bear Mode. He wants his kids in his sight at all times or he's practically inconsolable. If they're not with him, then they might be in danger, anything could happen – how can he protect them if they're not there? Just anxiety out of the wazoo.
I can see him trying to drag his 7 kids into one room so he can keep an eye on his babies.
Damian: baba we cannot all possibly fit-
Cass: -we will
Damian:
Damian: who's going first?
The kids do make things more comfortable. Fluffing his pillows, getting him tea and making sure he has his stuffies. Bruce appreciates it but he just says that all he needs are his kids. That always has them sobbing.
(happy holidays to my cold twin @bruciemilf i was inspired by our mutual sickness lol)
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whiskeysmulti · 4 months
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Khr ask box meme: also sending in Lambo as well
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KHR! Ask-My-Box- no longer accepting!
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.Whiskey. Cut for warnings of Covid mention and maternal death. Read at your own risk.
Lambo: Do you have anyone that you really admire? A role model?
My Gram. She's 103 and still going. She's survived World War 2 and the Great Depression and more. She was a mail carrier and went to Church every Sunday until she could no longer see to drive. She's beat Covid twice now and though she has permanent complications from it, she's still going. We don't know if this is our last year with her or not, but she's definitely someone I admire. I also admire my mother, even though she's gone. She was a hippie with a 'do no harm, but take no shit either' mindset and an advocate for disabled rights because she wanted me to have a fair chance at school, I get my stubbornness from her.
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itsbebebrainrotting · 2 months
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God i just want to ramble about the sunny lenay conversation today so excuse me for a second... It was just so sunny and oh my god it was rped perfectly.
They were with tubbo hanging at phils but tubbo went afk and phil chayanne and tallulah ran off. Sunny asked tubbo where they went and got told they were probably having family time, and since sunny doesnt really have much family other than tubbo to have their own family time, they asked for family time with their ma (lenays floating corpse under tubhaus). They built a little platform to stand by her and started making up a conversation they were having with her about how she became a mermaid (died) and how they can become a mermaid to join her, because by becoming a mermaid they will be safer from attack.
The entire time tubbo just doesnt know what to do because his daughters playing with a corpse so just plays along. The vibe of the stream really encapsulates how morbid it is - theres no music, tubbos voice is really sad and hes just sat there reading her signs as they discuss becoming a mermaid and how they need to catch the person who stole their ma's legs.
Its all silly childish make believe that really just highlights that sunnys so little too. Too young to be spending their free time with a corpse.
And the entire thing just feels... lonely. Sunny doesn't have many friends. Or at least comparatively they have a lot of non-friends compared to the other eggs. The only parent they have is Tubbo. They feel so alone and they try so hard to make friends and all that culminates in is them wanting family time and making up a story about mermaids with their ma's corpse.
Just a little girl playing mermaids with her mothers dead body.
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shares-a-vest · 3 months
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Prompt: Family Heirloom and Starry Night (Discord Drabble) Two prompts in 24hrs, the drabblers are spoiled today. It's Lex's birthday! @thefreakandthehair I'm so sorry that my Frankenstien prompt for your b'day is also Steve Sad Boy™ hours. But it has a light-hearted end!!! 🏈🏈🏈 tw: death of a grandparent (way in the past)
"Why would mom mail this to me?" Steve finally mutters from his position at the kitchen bench.
Eddie shimmies upright on the couch and rubs at his eyes, long glazed over from forcing himself to pretend to pay attention to tonight's game. He'd flipped it over a good half an hour ago as the space he had given Steve started to linger on a little too long for his liking.
He just wasn't supposed to almost fall asleep while waiting for Steve to join and watch his favourite team win all those... points? touchdowns?
It doesn't matter nearly as much as the package that was delivered late in the afternoon – one that has left Steve glued to his kitchen stool.
A heavy but small and thin box with 'FRAGILE' and 'DO NOT BEND' emblazoned all over it, the red warnings leaving just enough space for their address and the return label.
Steve has opened it, Eddie realises, looking over his partner's impossibly hunched shoulders when he reaches him.
"I don't remember ever seeing that in your house, sweetheart," he says, standing close and snaking his arms around Steve's middle.
He frowns at the small framed print of Vincent Van Gough's Starry Night painting and rests his chin on Steve's shoulder.
"Mom hated it," Steve explains, "Refused to hang it anywhere in the house after my Grandpa passed. He left it to her."
Eddie hums in the affirmative.
The gold and gaudy frame doesn't exactly scream Mrs Harrington's taste in decor...
"Should I call her?" Steve rasps, setting the print down to pinch his nose, "What if something's wrong and that's why she is sending it to me?"
Eddie can feel his lip quivering.
"Maybe we should talk first, hmm?" he suggests, giving Steve a reassuring squeeze.
"Or..." Steve continues, his tone becoming bitter, "She's sending it now to make it official. That I'm no longer..."
He cuts himself off with a shaky exhale and looks around their relatively new (but technically very old and rundown) apartment. A quiet little spot in Indy they'd scored without too much searching.
One that they soon filled with their records and clothes, Eddie's amp and guitar and Steve's old trophies. Too many knickknacks they'd thrifted with the help of Robin and a lot of second-hand furniture Wayne found.
An apartment they are still in the process of making their own as they work themselves out together.
Their place in the world. Their home.
Eddie looks over to a patch of blank wall by the phone.
A spot that could use something...
"Do you like it, the painting?" he whispers, pressing a kiss to Steve's ear.
Steve grips the frame, his knuckles quickly turning white as he tenses up. He nods his head vigorously and sniffles.
"My grandpa..."
"Starry, starry night," Eddie sings low, "Paint your palette blue and grey..."
He reaches out to place his hands over Steve's and feels them relax in his touch.
"Look out on a summer's day..." Steve continues wetly, "Yeah..."
He sighs and closes his eyes, shifting his weight back onto Eddie.
"Looks like a pretty good heirloom to me," he says, swaying them just enough to leave Steve humming contentedly without threatening his position on the rickety kitchen stool.
Eddie continues humming the song, a favourite of Wayne's that he only ever passively listened to enough to pick up on the opening line and tune.
"Wanna watch the game with me?" he asks, nodding back to the television as he finishes the song.
Steve giggles, his shoulders gradually shaking them both.
"Baby, I watched that game two Sundays ago."
"But it's your favourite," Eddie argues, jostling their conjoined form, "The Cubs!"
"Eds, that's baseball!"
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spacedace · 7 months
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Reluctant War AU Part 3
Part 1 Part 2
More of the brain worm that has taken me over, gonna probably post it to Ao3 here before too long. Already got another part started and so many ideas for additional stuff, someone please send help I've been consumed by this thing lol
Sorry if Waller seems out of character, outside of fandom I'm mostly familiar with her through Justice League the animated show & Justice League: Unlimited and her vibe there has always struck me as "deeply incredibly unlikable character that also kind of has a point but also has done so much fucked up shit in the name of her goals that you don't really care about her point anymore." So you know, complicated lol. If she's completely unrecognizable let me know, but I'm hoping she feels at least somewhat like Waller.
Forgot to say this in the last update, but still feel free to use all this as an overly long prompt if yall want. Literally anything I throw out to the void should be treated as a prompt lol If there's anything at all interesting to you in any of this nonsense go for it <3 <3 <3
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Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.
Ruthless, heartless, vicious, cruel.
She’d been called it all. Wore the words thrown as insults as a badges of pride and valor. Because at the end of the day, when it came to the problems she was given to face, the issues she was meant to solve, those words meant she’d done what others had been too squeamish or cowardly to do. Life was a never ending slog of trolley problems and she the only one unshakable enough to pull the levers that needed pulling.
It wasn’t so simple as a matter of greater good.
Greater good was what the weak willed muttered to themselves after having feelings over doing the bare minimum. A justification used by people on all sides to do what they wanted with fractured, faulty logic thrown around like truth was a thing immutable. To assuage their guilt when they were forced to make a call they didn’t want to.
It wasn’t a matter of greater good. It was a matter of preservation. Of protection. Of digging through the filth to find the threats skittering beneath and crush them with ruthless abandon. Of facing a god and not blinking because if you did it could cost the world.
Of doing what needed to be done, no matter how underhanded or atrocious it was.
Hands dirty.
Hands red.
Hands wrapped tight around the throat of something that could threaten to destroy it all.
When the Ghost Investigation Ward had been shoved her way with it’s sucking wound of a budget, it’s bloated incompetent staff, its asinine methods she’d seen a rotted limb in need of hacking off. It hadn’t been until she’d been conducting her inspection, digging through the trash for a few pearls of effective agents she could snatch up and put to work elsewhere, that she’d truly seen what they were working on. The potential.
Potential to better arm themselves with in the forms of the strange new weapons being created.
Potential for threats far greater than anything even she had thought possible before.
The GIW as it had been when she’d first come across it was a fetid waste of time and resources. A laughing stock agency only secret because no one took them seriously enough to look. Made stupid and useless with its own conceited delusions of importance it didn’t actually have. Yet.
She went to work on it. Hacking away as she’d originally intended, but this time with a different goal in mind. She ripped out the weeds with bare, calloused hands and planted proficiency and loyalty in their place. She took over as director herself, tossing the self-aggrandizing fool that had been running the place into the ground to the dogs as the culprit for misappropriate spendings, saving the agency by tweaking things until their ballooning budget was pinned neatly onto the former director as an embezzling charge.
Then she got to work.
The Fentons were brilliant, if entirely insane. But Amanda could work with that. She’d reigned Harley Quinn in - more or less - she could do the same to the two deranged scientists that so eagerly wanted to be apart of the fight against the dead. Especially when the benefit came in the form of the inventions they threw together so easily, especially when those inventions were weapons.
It took very little to get them on board with her plans for the GIW. Keeping their focus could be a chore, at times, but she didn’t even have to really do much in the way of pressing to get them back where she wanted them. They craved knowledge and understanding nearly as much as they craved the eradication of the entities themselves. Letting them have the first look at a new subject here, free reign over a vivisection there, it took so little to fuel their fervor and keep them busy working on the projects she set for them.
Things had been going smoothly.
For a time at least.
Until Phantom.
He’d been the main focus of the previous director’s attention, the big fish he’d so desperately wanted to catch and put up on his wall. Amanda wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a tempting prospect, but not one she’d put above the other projects she had set in motion since taking over. No, Phantom was powerful, enough to be a real problem one day, but she could the awkward youth in the way he held himself, the inexperience in how he handled situations. She had time to get everything else in order before focusing on getting Amity Park’s would-be hero brought to heel.
And he would be brought to heel. One way or another.
Hands dirty.
Hands red.
Hands wrapped tight around the Core of a fledgling god and bending him to her will.
An artifact, old an powerful, recovered with some effort. A means of controlling specters, of chaining them to the will of the artifact’s wielder. Dangerous in the wrong hands. Dangerous in the right hands.
It was shattered, and even whole and functional Phantom was resistant to its power. But Amanda Waller prided herself in her ability to see the potential in things. It could be repaired, be made better. Even gods could be bound, be made to kneel, with the right pieces, with the right application of force.
It was just a matter of time to gather everything needed.
Phantom didn’t know he could single handedly destroy every last member of the Justice League. The baby fat, the innocent eyes, the split-second hesitations when he fought. He knew enough to be confident in fighting the usual ghosts that haunted Amity Park, but he still very much saw himself as a little fish. Maybe it was the part of him that was still Daniel Fenton, gangly teenager not quite sure what he was truly capable of yet.
She had time before the Fenton’s son truly became an issue. Time to judge if his parents’ obsessiveness would overcome their - rather shoddy, by Amanda’s estimation - parental instincts and continue to hunt him once they knew the truth. Time to get as much out of them as she could before hand, should they falter at the idea of attacking their own son. Time for the staff to be repaired and returned to working order, to get the other items needed for the truly big fish hidden on the other side of the veil between worlds.
She had time.
Until she didn’t.
Pariah Dark had not been something she thought she’d have to account for - not yet, at least.
If he wasn’t already dead, she’d ring the Ghost King’s neck with her bare hands. His arrival had opened Phantom’s eyes to what he was capable of, of just how big of a fish he was. Worse still, Phantom’s defeat of the war mongering King changed the state of play. Phantom was no longer an impressively powerful half dead teenager.
He was King Infinite.
He was an Ancient.
He was getting on her last damn nerves.
Phantom’s rogue gallery were now firmly under the boy’s control. Still distinct nuisances around Amity Park, but no longer considered true concerns. They were loyal to their boy king, delighting in ruffling his feathers but never crossing the line into treason or attempted regicide. Which meant that the GIW was the only thing that held his attention.
Amanda took the time to send a care package to the former GIW director in his tiny, dank prison cell. As thanks for his carelessness in revealing to the entire town - both living and dead - of the agency’s existence and their intentions. Had he stuck to standard protocol, Phantom would have been none the wiser to their presence. Would have scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders at the ghost that went missing upon occasion. Would have been boredly uninterested in the people his parents had begun working with. Would have been taken by surprise when they finally came for him.
But no.
No that self-obsessed, fame chasing imbecile had to go and announce to everyone and their dead mother that the GIW existed and exactly what it was they were in Amity Park to do.
Phantom knew what they were there to do.
They could only count on his naive certainty that he could broker peace with them for so long.
Peace. As if he and his people weren’t the invading force, the monsters slipping in through the cracks between worlds, the latest threat that had to be accounted for. As if he himself hadn’t rent their world asunder himself in another world, another time. No. Peace was not something they could hash out with this baby-faced monarch with his too-big crown. Peace was the assurance of safety, security. Of control of the situation.
There could be no peace.
The higher ups were somehow surprised when Phantom took that to mean there would be war.
Amanda Waller was not.
The Fentons, as suspected, took the right side when all was revealed. Steady hands and flinty eyes as they crafted the weapons that would be needed for the coming fight. Minds even sharper in their maddened grief, hearts set on revenge for the son lost and the entity that stole his face and friends and sister in his garish pretense at humanity. They were blinded to the reality of the situation in its entirety, the potential in what their son truly was, but at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. They did what she needed them to do, they could believe whatever it was they wanted so long as they did.
By the time the boy king and his armies marched upon the Amity park facility, preparations had been put into place. The base in Amity had been stripped back to bare essentials, everything of importance moved to more secured locations.
The weapons labs.
The artifact.
The girl.
All tucked well away from the front lines where Phantom and his motley crew could not reach. Their time to be put in play would come, but not yet. First she needed to gauge what Phantom and his people were capable of, what they were willing to do in the name of what they wanted. Amity Park was a pawn well sacrificed on that front. As were the other facilities she’d left easy to find.
The problem with making children gods, with giving them crowns and calling them King and giving them armies to play with, was that they thought there should be rules. That even in the trenches tearing apart their enemies, there was a certain level of playing fair that everyone was held to. They thought there was a way the world worked, of how things should be that blinded them to more effective options even as time stretched on and desperation set in.
It was the Dead’s problem though, not hers.
She reached out to the Justice League. Sour faced, unhappy, bitterly reluctant to accept that she needed their help. Stone faced and barely containing their rage at what little they knew of the situation, they agreed to a meeting.
She didn’t let herself smile until she was well and truly alone in her office.
Greater good. A lie people told themselves. A fairytale told to children. A means of convincing the weaker willed that they had no choice, that they had a noble duty to bend to. A belief that could be wielded like a weapon if the fantasy of the idea had dug in deep enough. And there were few it had dug into so deep as the members of the Justice League.
Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.
Hands dirty.
Hands red.
Hands clenched tight on a victory long in the making.
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Part Four
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