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#gonna death drop on a toddler

esyra · 7 months

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After the hospital bombing, I finally heard back from my grandmother and confirmed that several of my relatives were murdered by Israeli bombing. Seven of them, to be precise. Three are still going, including her. We've been talking constantly ever since.

Asked if it was possible to head south, and was told they did but were also bombed there. So they decided to go back home, in Zeitoun. Their home was bombed and they were pulled out of the rumble, then driven by ambulances to the al-Ahli Arab Hospital. There were people in every corner. Gazans sheltering, sleeping on the floor. Gazans dying on the floor, waiting for beds.

Four were declared dead on arrival, three were in need of surgery and other three were just bandaged. Then, a bomb was dropped in the parking lot that made parts of the ceiling collapse, like Dr. Ghassan Abu Sittah reported in that horrific conference/interview. Those in need of surgery died.

By the way, just in case you didn't know: the Church of Saint Porphyrius, the third oldest in history, bombed by Israel a few days back, was located near the hospital.

When looking for new shelter, they saw schools with signs hanging outside, "We can't take any more families." They met families, sympathetic but already sheltering too many people. They're now staying in an apartment building they found empty. Sleeping in the corner of the living room. If the family comes back, they'll apologize and leave.

Told me she was saving her phone battery for when the bombing stopped, and she had to ask for help to rebuilt the neighborhood. But she doesn't think it's gonna stop anymore. The ones still with her are mute most of the time, like they're saving energy, but she feels lonely and wanted to talk. There's no internet and to connect to WhatsApp, people are buying "a card from the supermarket, there's a password and username." Not sure what she meant. Still, the internet is inconsistent and won't load neither videos or images nor pages, so she doesn't know what's happening on the outside world.

Told her there were a lot of people protesting to stop the genocide, she replied, "The bombings are getting worse by the day." The bombing yesterday was the worst she ever witnessed. The entire neighborhood is infested with the smell of death, of decomposing bodies. Bodies are piling up in the streets and she's not sure if it's because they ran out of places to store them, but most of them are in bags. The smoke of the bombings hide the blue sky—she hasn't seen the clouds for a while.

Asked if I could share their pictures, names and dreams with people and was told, of which I partly agree, "they're not entertainment." If anyone genuinely cared, they would be alive—I'd argue there are people who do care, but I'm not gonna lecture her pain. And they don't deserve to be used to fulfill someone's sick fantasy. Told me to remember what some Israelis do with pictures of dead Palestinians. And I do.

For those of you who are not familiar, many times before settlers got together to celebrate the murder of Palestinians. For one, in 2015, Israeli settlers set a house in Duma, West Bank on fire. An 18-month old baby, Ali Dawbsheh, was burnt alive. Both parents later died of wounds and only a 5-year-old, Ahmad, survived, although severely injured.

Two celebrations of their murder are widely known, one at a wedding and others outside the court in which two were indicted for the terrorist attack. In the wedding, guests stabbed a photo of the toddler, Ali, while others waved guns, knives and Molotov cocktails. Israel's Minister of National Security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, was present.

That's what happens in an apartheid. Palestinians are so abused by authorities that their "innocent civilians" come to accept the brutality as necessary or are desensitized by our suffering. After all, it's been 75 years—get used to it!

So I won't risk the image of my loved ones, in fear they are used in these kinds of depravity. I will say, though, the world lost a young footballer. Lost a female writer and an aspiring ballerina. Lost a kind father, who was also a great cook, and a loving mother that enjoyed sewing and other types of handicraft art. Lost a math teacher and a child that wanted to become one.

People think Israel is testing new weapons on them. There's civilians arriving at the hospital with severe burns, which they thought was from white phosphorus, but apparently the pattern is different from the one caused by white phosphorus. It's widely believed Israel tests weapons in Palestinians.

Jeff Halper, author of War Against the People, a book on Israel's arms and surveillance technology industries, said: "Israel has kept the occupation because it's a laboratory for weapons."

They've ran out of drinkable water and the "aid" Biden sent was only for the South of Gaza and no fuel, for hospitals, was allowed in. Many shelves in the supermarket are empty. She said many are convinced that if they don't die from the bombing, they'll die from starvation or dehydration, or whatever disease will develop from the dirty water they're drinking.

Told me all people do now is pray, cry and die. Told me she hopes West Bank is spared. Told her Israel bombed a mosque in West Bank and dozens of Palestinians in West Bank are being murdered by settlers, so she bided me goodbye.

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #may allah protect them #may almighty allah see our pain #hopefully she'll message me tomorrow

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 6 months

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Simon had been put through life or death situations, but surely, surely this was the worst situation he could’ve found himself in.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, his daughters brush in his one hand, and the pink frilly hair tie in the other.

You were away on a work trip for the day, leaving Simon to do his little girls hair- and Simon had absolutely zero idea what he was doing.

A small giggle brought him back to earth, his gaze dropping to his toddler smiling up at him in the mirror. “Daddy, we are gonna be late! I need my hair up!”

Simon mustered a small smile for his baby girl, but his hands began to sweat, and his throat ran dry. He could do this. All he had to do was put her hair up in a pony tail. He’d seen you do it a million times. “You sure I can’t just put one of my hats on ya? You’d look mighty cute if I say so myself. I may be a bit biased though.”

“No, daddy.” Your daughter giggled. “I need it in a ponytail!”

No matter how hard he tried, her hair tie would simply fall right down her head, or just simply wouldn’t look right. He let out a sigh, setting down the brush in defeat as he glared at his daughter’s hair. How on earth did you make this look so easy?

Your daughter turned to face him, a giggle escaping her lips as she stuck her tongue out at Simon.

“You laughin’ at me?” He asked, quirking a brow at his little girl, a coy smile dancing on his lips. “You know what happens when you laugh at me.”

“No!” Your daughter squealed, laughter bubbling from her small belly. But her protests were in vain as Simon’s fingers found their way to her sides and began to tickle them.

Amidst a fit of giggles. your daughter’s arms flew up in the air, in an attempt to surrender from her dad’s tickle attack. “Daddy! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Thought so.” Simon replied, throwing his little girl a cheeky grin. “Now why don’t you come over ‘ere and help me find a video so I can do this properly. Can’t have my little girl showing up to school without her favorite hairstyle, can I?”

With his daughter planted firmly in his lap, Simon placed his phone on the counter, a “how to do a ponytail” video playing as his fingers returned to her hair.

Nearly 15 minutes, and a few strands of hair later, Simon looked upon his masterpiece with a proud smile. “There, I’ve finally done it.”

She turned around and looked up at Simon, before standing on her tip toes on the stool, to place a kiss on Simon’s cheek. “Thank you, daddy.”

Your daughter would never tell him of course, but she wore that ponytail with pride that day- telling everyone it was her daddy that did it this time. Even though Simon knew it wasn’t perfect, it was in her eyes- and that’s all that mattered.

#simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley fluff #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader

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stxar-pvnk · 2 months

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Being around Tony stark can take a toll on you, some have to toughen up their skin to endure Tonys remarks, some just drift away from him, not wanting to deal with it.

But Peter?

No he's adapted.

Every snarky remark, and name Peter would be told, he just came back even stronger

"did you seriously forget to do your homework? Again? Don't you have enhanced..everything?"

"Mr stark, If we wanna talk irresponsible, let's talk about the time it seemingly crossed your mind to tell your loved ones you were dying because of the shrapnel in your chest." Peter snarked back

Tony stood frozen, his jaw dropped.

"well..fuck." Tony mumbled trying to contain l laughter at how sudden Peter came up with something like that.

Or another time.

"Peter, let me get you some new shoes." Tony pleaded

Peter sucked on his lollipop and squinted at Tony

"what? No why." Peter asked seemingly shocked

"because they're ratty. And old. And they look like they're gonna fall off or disintegrate at any given time." Tony answered crossing his arms

"why do you even keep them around?" The older one asked completely confused

"your ratty, old and likely to be on your death bed in a few years, why do we keep you around?" Peter snarked back raising an eyebrow.

Rhodey who was just passing through to grab some coffee was howling with laughter doubling over to clutch his stomach.

Sometimes it's not even directed at Tony.

"how do we even know we can trust the kid, he's unreliable" Sams eyes narrowed his voice harsh, but Steve nodded anyways

"I agree with Sam, recruiting a child would be very irresponsible."

Peter who was swinging on his chair, now paying attention in the meeting with the avengers turns to Steve and sam

"oh lord.." Tony muttered as rhodey tried to hide the smug, fond look on his face

"dude, you are 2 times my age, stop complaining and just admit that being an old man is getting to you, plus I can hear your knees snap like glow sticks when you crouch down. it's gross. Also who in this room has 1. A weird bird suit, and 2. Doesn't." Peter finished crossing his arms mirroring Tony. Alot.

"did I just get insulted by a toddler." Sam muttered

Peter is a sassy kid.

Peter is Tony's sassy kid.

#spiderman #tony stark #peter parker #irondad and spider son #iron man #mcu marvel avengers #irondad and spiderson #bamf peter parker #sassy peter parker #peter parker being sassy like his dad

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evilminji · 7 months

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Can You "Accidental Baby Acquisition" Yourself?

Like? Say you have a You... who is NOT You, obviously, but A You in the Multiversal sense... and their childhood suuuuuucked. Just? Truely awful for reasons beyond their control.

Such as the veil NOT being so easily peirced in their reality and humanity a bit more... Reactive(tm) to ectoplasm, due to the lower concentration of it in the Everything of their Universe. Which makes their parents research? Unattainable. Dangerous.

Ultimately fatal to their elder sister.

And then later, them.

Not that they were even the loving if wildly eccentric parents most of the other You's KNOW and have. Due to that very say research and their long-term exposure to their own samples. The Reactivity.

"Pit Rage" as some circles call it.

They weren't themselves. Stopped BEING themselves long before their children ever came into the picture. If they could think clearly, they would BEG for someone to save their children. From them. From their house of horrors. From what they've become.

And well? You exsist outside of Time. In the Zone. Maybe you have a wide and crazy adventure with this grizzled, worn, badass of a You. Figure he's pretty cool. Ask if he needs anything. And he laughs this broken glass in your chest sort of sound and says:

"Not unless you could give me a real childhood."

Like? Dude. Buddy. My buddy dude. Gonna have to explain that one. You can't just drop that and walk away. We Crazy Action Bros Adventure(tm) bonded. You can tell me. And reluctantly... he kinda does.

And... Look. You exsist outside of TIME. Your mentor IS Time. You can TOTALLY do that.

This.

But like? You realize... there wouldn't be TWO of you... right? If you take mini-Bamf out of the timestream at point A... you, big guy, stop existing at every instance of point B and onwards.

Yeah. Yeah, he gets that. Fully consents. His life was full of bad decisions and dramatic bullshit. He wants a real childhood. His sister back. Wants them BOTH out of that house and somewhere safe. If he could do it himself, he would. Call it his fucked up way of healing. Finally facing his trauma. It's haunted him long enough.

.....well then. Now You've got a baby and a fussy toddler. They have superpowers because of course they do. That house was OSHAs waking nightmares and deepest fever dreams. Jazzypants is hungy. And baby You did a stinky.

This is Fine(tm).

You're a King! You can TOTALLY handle this! Teeeeeemporarily. Since it's not like they can stay HERE. The Zone is literally uninhabitable long term for the living. So time to fire up the ol Brain Meats. Gremlin Ideas formulating. Loading... Loading... Loooooooading. Got it!

You kidnapped them.

Brilliant! FRIGHTY! Where's the Trenchcoat Booze Slu-...SLUHeuth. Sleuth! Totally what I was planning to say, Starshines! Don't curse. Cursing Bad~☆

The Detective Of Loose Morales in The Trenchcoat, who's Soul I Own, Frighty! Where's he at?? *Distant muffled answer* Close enough! Time to give him a heart attack! And throw a fight! Can you toss me a nightmare medallion? I need to instill mortal terror! Thaaaanks, Frighty! Also can you change diapers? *affirmative noises* Ancients, you're the best.

Smash cut to John Constantine. Busting up some cult, as you do. When? Oh fuck. The leaders heading for the store room! Not today, fucker! They fight. They struggle. It's Manly and Gritty and dramatic! When?

A terrible CRASH. Some artifact must have activated. What... have you DONE? *dramatic musical sting* swirling green and DEATH radiates out from a pin prick of nothing. A black hole in reverse. The cold oblivion of space, given bones to claw its way free. Eyes that sear in colors too technicolor and hypersaturated to be mortal. Green. Green! GREEN.

Ice and stars and death and a terrible, unspeakable Crown.

Two... two little sprogs. Tiny bits of nothing in a monsters hand. KIDS, wrapped up in something they never should of even had to nightmare about. John's eyes catch on red, red hair. A tiny little headband with butterflies on it. Pressed so close to dark locks, as she wraps herself around her little bits of a sibling.

The other ones dressed up in stars.

Someone SOLD their fuckin KIDS. Or this damned this STOLE them. It doesn't matter. Not now, not to John. Because this bastard isn't keeping them. He slides like breathing into the waves of luck and chance, odds and fate. Is on his feet and drawing attention. Whatever it takes, he's leaving here with those kids.

He laughs and it's not a kind one.

"Oi! A word if you will?"

@hypewinter @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @ailithnight

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny tricks John in taking the munchkins #john TOTALLY won these infants fair and square guys #he says showing up covered in ash to the next meeting #with two toddlers he has no idea what to do with #so uuuuh #anyone want two kids?#batman put your fucking hand down

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jeannineee · 10 months

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Can't stop thinking about how the bat boys would react after accidentally swearing in front of their young kids and the kids start repeating it over and over again 😂

May I request ur hc on it? Your writing is amazing btw!!

I love this!!! Let’s see…

side note: PLEASE send in requests!! Fluff, smut, headcanons, etc.

Rhysand

Rhys was cooking dinner one night

He accidentally touched the hot stove, and a loud “fuck” slipped past his lips

You were holding your son at the time, and the death glare you gave Rhys could’ve struck fear into anyone’s heart

Not even a beat later, your son smiled at the two of you

“Fuck!” He said in his tiny voice

Rhysand, the ass, laughed at first, but it died down as you glared again.

“We don’t say that,” Rhys told your son, attempting to seem stern.

“But you said it, daddy,” your son replied. “Fuck!”

It took the better part of an hour to explain to your toddler that he cannot swear.

And then you scolded Rhys after you put your son to bed.

He apologized in rather strenuous ways.

Cassian

Cassian was putting away dishes after having washed them.

Unfortunately, a plate slipped out of his grasp, shattering on the floor.

“Shit!” He cursed, immediately cleaning up the mess before your newly-walking daughter could hurt herself.

Cassian thought nothing of it; didn’t realize your daughter was still awake in the next room.

A couple days later, the three of you were having some family time in the living room.

Your daughter dropped the toy she was holding on the floor, mumbling “shit!”

“What did you just say?” You asked her, jaw dropping.

“I said shit, mommy.”

“Who taught you that?”

“Daddy!” She answered proudly.

Cassian offered a sheepish grin in response. “Sorry, baby.”

It’s been weeks, and your daughter still says “shit” when she does something clumsy.

Azriel

Azriel is really good about not swearing around your child, so it would be you who accidentally let it slip.

“Damnit!” You cursed, dumping the burnt pie in the trash.

Azriel covered your daughter’s ears, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Mommy swore,” your daughter said, giggling.

“Yes she did,” Azriel replied.

“Damnit!” Your daughter said suddenly, eliciting a gasp from you and Azriel.

Before either of you could react, she said it again, and again, and again.

“We don’t say that,” Azriel told her gently, kissing her forehead.

“But mommy said it.”

“Mommy,” Azriel started, giving you a pointed look, “is gonna need a few lessons in not swearing in front of you.”

After your daughter was sound asleep, you can imagine how the rest of the night went 😌

#acotar #acotar headcanon #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #acomaf #Azriel headcanons #Rhysand headcanon #cassian headcanons #Cassian x reader #rhysand x reader #acosf #acowar

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chronicowboy · 1 year

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Natalia texts him four days after Kameron interrupts their date. He has to admit its a shock. He'd kind of just assumed that whatever thing that may have been blooming between them had shrivelled and died. He hadn't been as distraught as he thought he might be, in fact he'd been a little lighter since she walked out.

(Until Eddie had told them about bumping into Marisol at the hardware store, but he doesn't really want to think about that too closely.)

They meet up at a coffee shop because Buck isn't quite sure what to expect, but somehow inviting her back to his apartment feels like a step over the line.

"I'm really sorry," she says as soon as she sits down. "I reacted poorly and I just wanted to get my head on straight before I got back to you again."

"I get it," Buck shrugs, smiles. "I dropped a hell of a lot on you that night. Like all at once. Guess its easier when its just words and not a very pregnant woman on your doorstep."

"Yeah." Natalia laughs, ducking her head. Buck knows she's beautiful, stunning even, but he doesn't feel it. "It was a bit of a shock to say the least." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and looks up at him. "I was blindsided, I reacted badly, I'm sorry."

Buck bites back the instinctual dismissal on his tongue, hears an echo of Eddie's you don't have to be anything for anyone.

"Thank you for saying that." Its an awkward thing to say, but Buck is getting better at not cutting parts of himself off to fit into other's perception of him.

"Did I blow this?" She grimaces at him, an apologetic thing that makes Buck huff a small laugh. "I feel like I blew it." She bites her lip. "Its just... You know, you spend so much of your life confronting death that you forget to be afraid of it. But the act of creating life," she releases a long exhale, "that's terrifying to me."

"And I get that." Buck nods, but he doesn't. Not really. His job is filled with so much death, life is a luxury, a privilege. Every time they get to help a mother give birth to her child, Buck feels an old wound from a loss on the job heal. The circle of life, Chim would call it.

"I just." Natalia sighs. "This isn't really something you say on like a third date, but I also feel like the whole sperm donor thing wasn't a second date topic, so I'm just gonna say it anyway." She glances over at a couple in the corner, the man wiping foam off their toddler's chin. "I'm not ready for the whole life thing." Buck blinks. "Like kids. I just don't see it happening for me. That's why I reacted the way I did."

"Because Kameron was pregnant?" Buck frowns, heart stuck on her words.

"Because you're a father," she says plainly.

"But I'm not." Buck huffs, scrubs his hands over his trousers. "I'm the donor, not the dad. I'm not really involved. I just gave them my DNA. Sure, I might see the kid from time to time but that's because Connor and Kameron are my friends. Its not because I'm actually that kid's father."

"But..."

"No, Natalia. I am nothing to that child apart from a family friend. That's it." Buck says it and something inside him settles.

"You're sure?"

"Positive." Buck nods. "You want to get a coffee? Try again?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice." She smiles at him, and Buck reaches for his phone just as it buzzes.

christopher: i need your help

christopher: dad's hopeless

Buck snorts down at the texts and shoots an apologetic look up at Natalia as he types out a response.

tell him not to touch anything and i'll come over to help around dinner

"Everything okay?" Natalia quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, yeah, sorry." Buck stuffs his wallet into his pocket as they stand up. "Eddie, um, firefighter Diaz," she nods in recognition, "he's trying to help his son with this big project he has. And Christopher is asking me for help, so I can only assume he's doing an embarrassingly bad job."

christopher: you better hurry, i don't want to fail because dad glued his sliders to the floor

Buck sends a line of emojis he know Chris will get a kick out of decoding before looking up at a silent Natalia. There's something calculating to the slight furrow between her brows that makes his hackles rise.

"And..." She purses her lips. Buck finds himself swallowing in anticipation of whatever she's about to say. "Do you help your co-worker's son with his homework a lot?"

"Eddie's my best friend," Buck clarifies. "Well, no. Christopher is my best friend. But Eddie's a close second. I help out whenever I can." He cuts himself off before he can say anything else, already feeling like he's revealed too much. "Um, w-why?"

"Do you have a picture of him?" she asks. Buck flashes his lockscreen at her, and Natalia smiles sweetly but it looks like she's just figured something out. "He's cute."

"The cutest," Buck murmurs, stealing a quick look at the picture of Chris squirming away from one of Eddie's hugs. "Although he'd probably disown me as a best friend for calling him that now. He's getting too old."

"Buck," Natalia says softly, "I don't think this is going to work out."

"What?" He frowns, figures it would be rude to check his texts when he's being broken up with - if it can even be called a break-up at this point.

"Just the concept of you bringing life into this world was enough to terrify me." She shrugs. "But there's an actual, real life you're shaping and helping to do his homework and looking at like he's the reason you came back from the dead. What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Christopher's not my kid, though." It feels like a lie as he says it, tastes like ash in his mouth the moment he thinks it.

"Isn't he?" Natalia taps his phone screen so that it lights up on that same picture of Christopher. She smiles at him weakly. "It was nice meeting you, Buck. Thanks for giving me some answers about death, I hope you can find the answers in your life."

Natalia leaves him in the coffee shop with a sweep of her hand down his arm, and Buck fumbles with a thousand desires all rising to the surface at once. None of which are a desire to run after her. But there's one, there's one stronger, louder, bigger than all the rest. One that makes him want to run all the way to homework club.

on my way, bud

#sami rambles #okayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy still getting used to writing natalia so bear with me. but yeah.#also all of my ficlets over the next few days are probably going to be about buck and chris bc those are the ideas i have so. yeah.#911 spoilers #911 fox #911 show #evan buckley #christopher diaz #buddie #911 spec #911 ficlet #buddie ficlet #911 spec fic #buckley diaz family fic #buckley diaz family #buck and christopher #natalia dollenmeyer #911 fic #911 fanfic

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 1 month

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Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Part 9

MASTAPOST

Byleth trembled as the Guard gathered in the barracks later that night. He had been found floating belly up near the top floor after having sounded the alarm.

It wasn’t his fault! T-there was a s-s-SIREN. Right there! In front of him! It looked thin and waspish and starving, and he was sure it was gonna maul him to death right then and there. Did you see the teeth on that thing?! Byleth shuddered. His hand went to cover his gills. Imagine being chomped on the neck by that stuff. The stuff of nightmares.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, he wasn’t the only one terrified. Well, that was a little misleading. Byleth stood at attention in line with his fellow guardspeople, awaiting dismissal. The debrief was long and agonising, hearing details about how the siren lurked around unnoticed for hours, but most of his comrades were just irritated, or even disappointed. He glanced to the right, where Ableth was nursing his wounds from trying to tackle the little demon, and he wasn’t even fazed! Like, holy shit. If the siren got that close to him, he’d probably shit his pants right on the spot!

No, the one who was terrified was apparently the local administrator, currently having a ‘conversation’ (more like a shouting match) with their commanding officer out of sight, but definitely not out of earshot.

“It was a child! A baby! Do you even begin, begin to comprehend how bad this makes you, and by extension, me, look?! King Arthur will have our heads! Our heads!”

Their commander audibly sighed (which was a big yikes, considering how patient the guy was even on a bad day). “I understand your concerns, administrator, but this guard have done the best they can. The siren child was armed with weaponry the likes of which we have never seen before, and the raids have been tireless besides.”

“Blah blah blah blah do you even hear yourself? Maybe if you had trained these grunts better they wouldn’t have been out-matched by a toddler!” Byleth took offence to that. He’d like to see the office suit face up against that monster!

“Only one man was hurt, and he’ll be disciplined for his recklessness. The child did not set out to attack anyone, he was only stealing supplies, and fled when resistance appeared. It’s the same story as ever.”

“It sounds like your guards are as incompetent as ever!”

“The sirens have no way to access such advance weaponry. Do you understand what this means? If we don’t speak up, what will we do when a proper war band appears, each bearing these weapons? How many towns will they have razed before your dead spirit will be ready to admit the consequences of this cowardice?”

The administrator sputtered. The ridiculous loss of composure, and the raucous laughter of Byleth’s friends helped sooth the abject terror of a hundred more sirens appearing out of the ravines. By Poseidon spare them!

Line breakening~~

With the adrenaline running low, Damian ran on fumes as he twisted through the ravine, tracing back his fin-strokes to the cave where he’d left Phantom. Against all odds, he found it, and almost cried in relief. Throwing his newly acquired loot to the floor, Damian let his body drop like a cold iron, and passed out.

Danny felt pain. Like, all over. Everything hurt. Normally he’d be able to heal any injuries he got while siren fighting, and what a blessing that was. He wasn’t sure just how dense his parents could be, but he didn’t want to test it. The aching agony all over his body reminded him just how little he ate that morning, and man was he regretting it. Stupid Skulker and his stupid hunting dog dolphins. His stupid hunting doglphins. And stupid Damian for making him come close.

Well, that was a little harsh. He couldn’t blame the kid for believing the dolphin propaganda. They had a tight grip on the world, man.

The smell of blood prickled his nose. Danny shot up, fully awake. “Damian where ar-”

There the kid was, collapsed against the rocky floor of their makeshift hideout. Beside him, bags and satchels spilled out with food, bandages and weapons?! Guilt rocked up Danny’s body. Did Damian go hunting for food while he was unconscious? The kid’s tiny body was littered in bruises, and raw patches where the scales barely healed over. His sail was bent at an awkward angle too. Where the hell did he go?! Where did he get weapons?

No wait. Danny came closer and sniffed the loot closely. You had to be kidding him. There were Atlanteans nearby?! Part of Danny very much doubted the idea that the Atlanteans, probably the number 2 siren haters in the world aside from his parents, would just hand Damian a gift basket if he asked them to. So he stole from them?

Jazz would call this catasrophising, but she wasn’t around, so Danny felt pretty justified in panicking a little. Like, what was he thinking?! The Atlanteans would’ve skewered him without a second thought.

A small whimper caught his attention. Danny’s mental disaster train screeched to a halt. Damian was shivering, violently. Oh right. It was like, midnight or something in a deep ocean ravine. The kid was probably freezing. And if he wasn’t healing, that meant he was low on nutrients, and even lower on body heat.

Right, needed to care for the kid. Crap. He was planning on staying near the surface for most of the trip. A blanket was big and cumbersome and he didn’t have much storage space on him.

But goddammit if he let the kid freeze to death on his behalf. Resigning himself to a fate of being bitten once Damian woke up, Danny picked up the tiny, fragile guppy, and tucked him underneath his fins. As Danny began to eat his fill, he wondered just what kind of person he was going to be swimming across two oceans with, to be brave enough to go out singularly into the unknown…

Damian awoke to the sound of chewing, and gentle purring. He missed Alfred the cat. Poor kitty. He probably missed Damian too. It’s ok, Damian can make it up to him. He’ll give the little kitty all the pets and grooming he could ask for.

A weight settled on his hair, and- oh… oh that was so good. He didn’t know Alfred could pet him too. Maybe this was one of the good endings to his life, one where he’d spend life as a kitten, without a care in the world. That would be so nice, just being there and safe and warm. The hand stroked and straightened his hair, and it snaked down to where his ears were and scratched them. It was pure heaven. Damian thought that such a place would be forever closed off to him, but maybe the world had decided to be kind…?

“Woah, you’re actually lowkey super adorable like this.” Alfred said. Why did Alfred the cat sound like a pasty-faced teenage boy? He’d always imagined him like the real Alfred: prim, proper, distinguished.

“You sound strange, Alfred.” Damian mumbled. The hand scratched his ear again, and Damian’s purring intensified. “Please return to your proper voice at once.”

“Dude, I have no idea who that is.”

Nonsense. Damian had named his cat after a very distinguished man, and let him know it every time he saw him. How could he not know his own name?

“That is preposterous. You are Alfred the cat, my esteemed pet and loyal member of the family.”

Aflred the cat snorted. He snorted. “Oh my god that is so gold. I’m going to hold this over you literally until you grow old and wrinkly.”

Damian felt… offended. That was so mean! Why would Alfred the cat say such a thing, to him, Damian, his owner and friend! Damian always made sure to treat his pets with the care and respect they deserved, and this is what he got!?

“B-bad kitty. You will be disciplined.”

And Alfred the cat just kept laughing! Alright, the air of relaxation evaporated as Damian started getting annoyed. He opened his eyes, ready to teach his wayward cat some manners when-

The last 24 hours caught up again. Before him was not Alfred the cat, as he had thought, but Phantom completely healthy again, lying on his back, laughing his heart out. Almost literally, too. Damian watched as Phantom’s still beating heart, and water-filled lungs bounced and jiggled inside his chest cavity with each half-choked laugh. It was mesmerizing, and kind of nauseating.

Suddenly Damian couldn’t find it in himself to be angry, just an overwhelming feeling of relief.

“Phantom!” He cried out, voice almost cracking. Phantom tackled him into a hug, and Damian only put up a token resistance. It just felt so… right. “You are… You have recovered from your injuries.”

“It’s Danny, actually.” Phantom, er- Danny, said, voice soft, quiet. Almost vulnerable… “Danny Phantom. Most people just know the Phantom part.”

Danny… Daniel…. “I was foolish. I should not have ignored your warnings. Forgive me, Daniel.”

“Hey now, don’t you start picking up the Fruitloop’s habits. It’s never Daniel. Just Danny. Daniel’s a randomass human name, but Danny’s mine.”

“It does not change the fact that it sounds like a nickname. I… I do not do nicknames.” Damian said. Normally he paraded this fact as a matter of pride. With Richard, Drake, even Kent. Now, with Daniel encompassing his body in warmth, he felt strangely small.

“And I don’t do self-deprecation. So what about a deal? I’ll forgive you, if you promise to call me Danny.” The older boy said, voice leaving no room for argument. And yet, the playful tone underneath it gave Damian something akin to comfort. The way Richard did in the early days, despite Damian’s barbs and open threats.

“Very well, D-Danny.” Damian forced out. The name felt alien on his tongue. “This is a privilege few can boast to.”

Daniel- no, Danny, chuckled again. “You sound like a kid saying a swear for the first time and they’re really scared of being caught.”

“I am not a child.” He was never allowed to be.

“You are crazy though. And reckless. And that’s coming from me!”

Ah, so Danny figured it out. “You noticed the smell of Atlantean.”

“What were you thinking? They hate sirens. With a capital H.”

“I will not apologise for my actions in there. You needed food. It was my own poor judgement that got you injured, so it was my responsibility to rectify that.”

Danny was quiet for a moment. “I’m really trying to channel that ‘angry because I’m worried about you’ energy that my sister does, but you’re making it really difficult. Now I just feel bad.”

“They posed no threat to me. It was an easy operation.” Damian said. Danny sighed again.

“What am I gonna do with you? Outside of taking you home, that is.”

“For one, you could unhand me.” Damian’s words were hollow, even to him.

“And let you freeze to death? No chance. Now come on. The sun’s about to rise, and you need your breakfast.”

“Have you eaten enough yourself?” It would not do to let this foolish teenager hurt himself for Damian’s sake again.

“Dude, I’m like triple your size and age right now. It’s my job to be worrying over you.” Damian harrumphed.

It felt nice to be cared for again.

LINE BREAK BABY

Bruce hung up the phone. Dick was about ready to riot, and the others were on a wire-thin line too. It was one of the most exhausting calls he’d done in his life, but it had to be done. He wasn’t going to leave his family in the dark, not after Jason.

It wasn’t just he who had potentially lost a son, however. In his hours of maddened searching, he’d glossed over the fact that the son of local siren hunters, the Drs Fenton, had also gone missing. Tim was already on the case, sifting through thousands of hours of CCTV footage to analyse the kid’s behaviour of the course of the last six weeks. Two unrelated boys going missing at the same time. And one boy had been displaying suspicious behaviour for months before hand. Something was up.

And so Bruce straightened his tie. He refused to wear any form of black. Not now, not yet, while there was still hope to be clung to. His trip to Fentonworks was in part to share condolences, and in part to investigate. Wherever Damian was, the clues lay somewhere surrounding Daniel Fenton.

He just hoped Damian had to be ok. If this hope died, Bruce felt like he might die with it.

70 notes · View notes

yawnzzznnn · 9 months

Note

Yandere banda heacanon please chupapi with a cherry on top make it drop 🙏🙏🙏

𓋼Banda yandere Headcannons𓋼

Special thanks to: this idiot, AIB, Banda Sunato

Note: I was gonna apologize for taking so long but your, you so nvm ✌️🤪(LY tho bestie) anyway you say yandere but Banda himself is one so it's just gonna be normal Banda

TW: Banda : yandere themes : toxic relationship : death games : AIB : Once again Banda

⋆Banda doesn't feel actual emotions as yaba said in the show he processes everything through logic and reason

⋆So if his brain says "yes" to you, you'll never leave his sight till he dies if he dies he's killing you before he goes so you'll be together in the afterlife

⋆He is protective in the most toxic way ever I mean like no one can look at you

⋆Banda on the jealousy scale is 1029377291028/10 like he should probably go to therapy but he won't

⋆If he met you before the whole death game Alice in borderland era he would still murder for you I mean he didn't kill those women for nothing

⋆He loves scaring you, like a demon he feeds off your fear and energy

⋆He most enjoys when you cry in pain knowing he caused it

⋆Back to the therapy topic if you ask him to go you'll be in an early grave

⋆He'll do anything for you but not everything so he won't do anything for you lmfao if he thinks you need it you'll get it if he thinks you don't you won't

⋆He probably has broken at least one of your bones for fun

⋆Now on the soft side of things he loved cuddles strange I know but he does

⋆He is a sucker for head scratches and back scratches there his favorite so if he's thinking to hard scratch one or both of those spots

⋆Now back to the toxic side of things he controls what you can and can't wear

⋆But he lets you do your hair how you want he does have a little teeny tiny bit of morals even tho there a bit messed up he has them

⋆He has thought of buying you one of those toddler leash backpacks so you can't run off

193 notes · View notes

s-4pphics · 10 months

Text

let the rain sing. interlude (a.a)

wc;cw: 6k, dadsbestfriend!abby, lawstudent!oc, large age gap (oc is 25, abby is mid 40s), abby is bi<3, fluff, HEAVY ANGST ANGST ANGST!!, childbirth, vomiting, blood, brief mentions of abortion, descriptions of insomnia, alcoholism, familial death, heavy descriptions of grief (depression, dissociation, anger), suicidal ideation, funerals & hospitals

Abby was conflicted when she found out she was pregnant.

She was ecstatic to start her term at Harvard Law due to some internship offers she received, but her excitement swiftly dissipated when waves of nausea started to overtake her.

She wasn’t concerned with the feeling at first. The fall term was always the most unpredictable for weather, and she assumed it was just the flu that often went around. Humiliation rushed through her when another wave hit during her sociology course, rushing out into the hallway to bend over the nearest trash, vomiting up her favorite brown sugar oatmeal from that morning.

She decided to see a doctor three days later when the sickness continued. She couldn’t get her test results the same day due to her hectic schedule and exhaustion from studying, so she opted to request them in the mail, despite her gynecologist’s urgency.

When she received her results two days later, her heart sank.

She paced around the small living room of her boyfriend’s apartment with anxiety in her gut and love in her heart. She’d been in complete disbelief, crumpling the urine test in her hands and throwing them onto the coffee table.

Her mind was racing a million miles per minute: How was she going to explain to her boyfriend—her parents— that she would be keeping her child no matter what? Her parents promised to be supportive of her if she stayed in school, but she was almost positive that they would disapprove of her baby. She didn’t care if they supported her or not, but she didn’t want to raise her children in an unstable environment. She wanted to give them the best of everything, of herself, but she couldn’t do that then. Her boyfriend had already been working like a dog to keep this place afloat, and a baby would be a burden for both of them.

But she knew she wanted to be a mother when she was young. She had a large family, but she always gravitated towards her younger relatives due to their liveliness. They made her feel joy that she knew she missed out on growing up, so she lived through them. They revived her in a sense. The circumstances were different in her mind when she envisioned herself as a parent: she was older, successful, married to the love of her life, and not regretting any of her decisions. She would’ve been happy. Excited and thankful for the blessing she believed kids to be.

Seeing the news terrified her and almost sent her spiraling into panic; She was only twenty-three!

She loved children. They always flocked to her when she was growing up, whether it be her younger siblings, cousins, nieces and nephews, or random people’s toddlers in grocery stores garbling at her from their cart seat. She never felt annoyed towards her younger family members. She always held them tight so they knew how much she loved them, no matter how much they got on her fucking nerves sometimes.

What teenager volunteers to babysit her big sister’s toddlers on the weekends?

… Abigail.

She was a nervous wreck while she waited for her boyfriend to come home from work. She’d been sobbing for hours, but she managed to calm herself down by staring at her frantic form in the bathroom mirror.

She couldn’t think straight with the pounding in her head, nervously bouncing her leg as she sat on the couch as she bit her nails.

And then their front door unlocked.

Abby… oh my god… I’m—

We’re pregnant? Oh my fucking god, we’re pregnant!

We’re having a baby?! I’m gonna be a dad!

Abby was not expecting her boyfriend to drop the wrinkly papers and lift her into the air in a heap of excitement, drowning her in tight grasps and kisses to her mouth and cheek. She cried harder; His joy was so comforting.

She wasn’t going to be alone during her pregnancy, and she was grateful.

Abby dropped out of Harvard three months into her pregnancy.

Her and her newfound husband eloped at their town’s small lake at the end of his third year at law school, and they moved in together shortly after so she didn’t have to move around as much. She knew carrying was difficult, but her hair was falling out and she sobbed whenever her husband asked her what she wanted for dinner.

You’re so sweet! I can’t help it, okay?! Leave me alone!

She and her husband were left to fend for themselves during her first trimester.

Her parents did not take kindly to her pregnancy announcement. She was always super close with her parents growing up despite their overprotective nature, and she hardly ever fought with them. Whenever they expressed their disapproval of her decisions, she bowed her head and left without rebuttal.

She expected the worst when she and her husband invited them over for dinner to announce it to them properly, and that’s exactly what she got.

Abigail… Are you fucking kidding me!

What the hell is a child going to do for you right now?

Do you understand how much you’re giving up? You have so much to lose!

You’re cut off unless you… handle that!

Her husband took over the conversation with a sharp, defensive tongue since the pounding of her head made her shut down. She was so fucking nauseas at their suggestions. She did consider an abortion a couple of weeks into her pregnancy, but the way her parents talked down about her future baby broke her heart and pissed her off.

Her husband's booming shouts at her parents would have triggered her defense for them under any other circumstances, but she only felt protected as he told them to fuck off! She knew she was loved by him to an infinite degree. Appreciation for her husband bloomed inside of her like roses.

Her parents left with a loud slam of their front door, and her husband held her as she sobbed at the table.

The food he prepared for everyone ran cold. Neither of them could stomach anything for the next few days.

Abby’s third trimester was the most difficult, for both her and her husband.

She never experienced this much pain in her life.

She was six months along, and it really took a toll on her body. Her ankles were swollen, her ligaments were aching, and her joints would not stop popping whenever she moved around the tiny one-bedroom apartment. Her hair loss made her too anxious to leave the house, and she hated how superficial she felt whenever she would weep because of it when her husband was at work. At least her nausea subsided.

She hated looking at herself in the mirror: her under eyes were dark and droopy, small bald spots littered behind her hairline, dark patches littered her skin. She looked fifty years older, and she hated it.

But her husband never failed to kiss away her insecurities. Appreciate them. Drown them in affection no matter how much she cried about hating herself.

He worked so hard for them to stay afloat: two jobs while keeping up with his course and nearly drowning in his studies. He suffered some pushback due to the transition from a full to part-time student, but he was doing his best to finish as quickly as possible.

Abby cried every night as his exhausted form slept next to her.

She felt so… useless. She watched her husband bust his ass, get fired from previous jobs, get turned down from decent-paying jobs, and she couldn’t help but feel responsible for his weariness. He looked just as worn as she did, and she loathed herself for putting all of this responsibility on him.

He never complained, though. He would come home with takeout, kiss her head, tell her how much he loved her and how all of this would be worth it.

Was the decision to keep her baby selfish?

She didn’t know at that time.

Abby had a premature birth.

She’d finally gathered the courage to go shopping with her husband for decorations for the nursery, but the trip was cut short when she began having contractions in the middle of the toy aisle.

They awoke her earlier that day: the cramps always brought her discomfort, but she noticed that the intensity was different. They shot through her much more harshly than they should’ve, but they eventually stopped, so she paid them no mind.

Until she was hunched over the stocked shelves as her husband tried to get her into the nearest empty seat.

She breathed out harsh cries of the baby, my baby as her husband frantically dialed for an ambulance despite her protests. The pain she felt burned whenever it flashed through her lower body, a constant push downward, and she knew something was wrong.

Her mind was racing as anxiety rushed through her body; she thought back to her frequent hospital visit. She knew a premature birth would be a possibility due to some complications with her cervix, but it was still early. She’d just reached the seven-month period, for fucks sake!

She could barely make it outside when the ambulance arrived, her vision foggy and she couldn’t stop sobbing, the paramedics’ voices sounding like bleating alarms in her ears whenever they attempted to calm her. She couldn’t bring herself to care about anything as she came in and out of consciousness, the only thing on her mind being the image of her happily crying husband holding their newborn for the first time.

Please let my baby be okay, please, please, please—

Abby couldn’t stop sobbing. She never thought that conceiving would cause a stabbing pain in her heart.

She went hysterical when she overheard that her baby wasn’t breathing, her heart rate monitor going out of whack as her lungs burned from her ragged breaths. Her husband tried to calm her down with his soft touches and words, but it only made her cry harder. She needed to hold her baby!

Her labor had already been nerve-racking, full of uncertainty and left her and her husband panic stricken for hours despite the doctors’ instructions to keep calm. When her infant was rushed into another room, her husband, and other doctors had to pin her down to keep her from thrashing from panic in her hospital bed.

She didn’t stop until another doctor returned and told her husband that their daughter would be closely monitored while on ventilation for the rest of the week.

Please, can I see my baby? Please, please?—

But her cries were gently denied due to their infant’s extremely fragile state. They tried to comfort her as much as they could, but none of their soft words, husband’s cuddles and meals, or warm, fuzzy socks soothed her.

She and her husband were released days later with an empty car-seat filled with stuffed animals and a pacifier.

Their hearts were vacant.

Their home was soulless for two weeks.

No baby crying, no diaper changing, no breastfeeding. They didn’t even have the heart to finish decorating for the nursery.

Abby watched her husband move on autopilot, waking up, going to work, going to class, and struggling to sleep. His insomnia had increased drastically ever since she gave birth, heavy bags forming under his eyes as he launched himself into his notetaking in the middle of the night. His desk was swamped with hefty books and sloppily stacked paper, murmuring to himself so he could memorize the necessary vocabulary.

She was overcome with failure and nearly drowned in self-loathing. Failure as a wife, as a parent. She couldn’t protect and care for her baby how she wanted, and guilt rested heavily with intent to crush her.

They both couldn’t speak, only whispering soft I love you so much before she slipped off into dreamland, her subconscious terrorized with images of her smiling baby girl who she prayed to see soon.

When Abby’s husband got the call from their daughter’s doctor, they both rushed to the hospital.

Abby’s raging nausea was quickly soothed by the doctor’s delighted face upon their arrival before ushering them to his office.

I’m excited to tell you two that your daughter’s stable! She’s quite small, but she’s healthy! We do have some extra caretaking rules—

They could barely understand the doctor’s rambling due to their excitement of seeing their newborn for the first time. The doctor handed her husband paperwork before leading them down the long hallway. They nearly toppled over each other as they followed the doctor, bursting into the room that held newborns and other premature infants.

They followed the doctor to their child’s incubator, and immediately burst into tears at the sight of their little—very little—angel.

She was wrapped in an oversized onesie and booties that nearly slipped off her tiny feet. That was the first time they both saw her eyes open, and they couldn’t control their emotions as they sobbed from pure joy.

They were so eager to hear the news from the doctor that Abby’s husband left the car seat in the vehicle. He probably looked crazy as he sobbingly retreated to the car with a strong love in his heart.

Abby was first to hold their baby. She took note of the pediatrician’s instructions when wrapping her in blankets whenever her feet felt cold.

When she felt the light weight of her child in her arms, she felt the purest form of love explode in her chest. She didn’t know how long she’d been crying and cooing at the bundle of joy, inhaling her scent in the crook of her neck, but she never wanted that feeling to dissipate.

When her husband returned with the car seat and small bag, he kissed his daughter’s head so lightly. She cooed at him, and he and Abby squealed as the doctors giggled.

They finally had their baby Mya in their grasp, and they left with light searing in their hearts.

Their first few months with a newborn were rough.

Loud crying. Dirty diapers. Frantic schedules. No fucking rest for either of them. But they both knew they wouldn’t trade the chaos of their small home for anything. It was all worth it when Mya kicked her feet when she looked at the twinkly star stickers on the ceiling before bed and garbled at the two of them.

Abby never thought breastfeeding would be as taxing as it was. She woke up to her breasts feeling like rocks, their child’s cries wracking through the nursery. At least her hair started to grow back.

Her husband was always awake in the wee hours of the morning, dragging himself into Mya’s small nursery like a zombie to feed and nuzzle her. Abby loved walking in on the two of them sleeping whenever she finished pumping, Mya pulled close to her father’s chest.

The sight of their synced breaths always calmed her; She fell asleep with ease knowing they were together.

Toddlers were… interesting.

Abby, in all her years of being surrounded by children, never witnessed a toddler reenact fish… noises? Since when did fish make noise?

Abby’s husband mistakenly left Animal Plant playing on their television while he snored on the couch with books on his chest and lap, and Abby drowsily entered the living room to shut off the loud narrations about extinction.

Only to catch their baby girl bouncing up and down on the cushion next to her slumped dad, puffing her cheeks together and making quiet blubblubblub noises, just like the intensified audio from the television.

She tried to regret teaching her baby how to take her first steps and get out of her crib on her own, but the sight made her heart brighten as she smiled to herself.

She eased towards the couch, taking a seat next to an excited Mya as she watched the aquatic life interact with each other. Her smile widened at the sight of her mom, her tiny, stubby finger coming up towards her lips while she pointed towards her dad. Abby grinned and nodded with her, filling her cheeks with air like she saw her child do before she interrupted. Mya laughed quietly and copied her mom.

She promised to scold her for being up way past her bedtime later.

Mya fell asleep on Abby’s chest as she listened to the sound of the ocean.

Mya had just turned four when Abby received a call from her mother.

She hadn’t heard from her parents in years, and frankly, she didn’t want to. She could tell that her husband was a bit hurt that they didn’t congratulate him for receiving his law degree, but he was able to let it go, especially since his baby girl gave him the fattest kiss on the cheek in a small celebration.

… Hi, honey. I know it’s been a while since, uh… since we’ve talked but… I just wanted to say I love you… and tell my granddaughter I said happy birthday… We love you all very much. I hope we can all meet again soon. Bye.

The voicemail made her eyes burn with sadness. Then anger, then love. She missed her parents immensely, but she would never be able to forget how they reacted to her pregnancy. Mya quickly became her source of happiness the second she was born, and she couldn’t imagine what her life would be if she never had her baby.

She knew she would have to reconnect with her family at some point, but Mya would always come first. If her parents were to ever make Mya feel like her future was ruined because of her, Abby would be fine with never speaking to them again, no matter how much it would hurt.

Abby jumped when she felt two small hands grab the fat on her wet cheeks, pressing slobbery kisses to both.

Don’t cry, mommy! S’gonna be okay! I love you!

Abby shouldn’t have cried harder, but she did, choking out a sob as she tried to smile for her daughter.

I know, baby. I love you so much. Everything’s gonna be fine.

She hoped—prayed her daughter was right.

Abby and her small family’s lives changed so much in just a few months.

Her husband found a stable job as a document clerk at a law firm, and they were able to move out of his dingy apartment into a decent one story after some months. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but they were happy.

The bags under her husband's eyes have lessened in shade ever since his graduation. He also gathered time to eat with her at their small dining table instead of eating at his computer desk alone. They were finally comfortable.

They bought Mya anything she wanted to make up for her disappointing birthday parties.

Abby took note of her daughter's love for water.

She always used to play various audios of rainfall and ocean waves for a sleepy Mya until she was two, but she didn’t expect the soothing technique to explode into her four-year-old playing in puddles and obsessively watching the rain through the glass backdoor.

She watched Mya sit and stare out the wet windows, quietly humming lullabies to herself until she slipped into rest, gently snoring against the couch cushions. Abby never took kindly to Spring due to her allergies, but she was happy her baby found comfort in it.

She told her husband about their daughter’s new habit when he returned from work one day, and he thought it was the most precious thing in the world. He wished he could’ve been present to see it.

Maybe she wants to be a fish! We should take her to the lake one day.

Abby scheduled swimming lessons for Mya that very next week.

It was confirmed. Mya was a mermaid in her past life.

She was a bit intimidated by the large pool when they arrived for her first lesson, but after a few sessions with her swim teacher, she stubbornly protested wearing her purple and blue floaties.

C’mon, honey! Put your arm through so we can go swimming!

No, mommy, no!

She felt a bit of jealousy build in her gut when her daughter’s swim teacher gently pulled her stubby arms and legs into the little floaties without fail. She could hear Mya’s joyous giggle as she slapped the water around, practicing her paddling with her instructor’s support.

Abby begrudgingly ate her Cheetos with a pout on her face from the poolside chair.

Mya was five when she met her extended family for the first time.

Her birthday had just passed, and Abby’s mom rang her line, inviting her family over for a small dinner. C’mon, sweetie! I just wanna see my granddaughter!

Abby was not surprised when the “small dinner” turned out to be a full-fledged surprise party for Mya: balloons everywhere, a large cake with a Barbie doll in the middle, all her cousins, aunts, and uncles jumping with party hats.

Mya was more than giddy at the sight, squealing and running over to the only auntie she knew, but Abby and her husband were a bit skeptical. It’d been a long while since they’d been in this environment, and they were very uneasy. But their little angel was so happy, so they pushed their edginess to the side. For her.

The party went smoothly for the most part, despite their initial feelings, but Abby and her parents did get into a small scuffle in the backyard. It took everything not to snatch the icing-littered fork from Mya’s hand and make their exit.

You have to understand where I’m coming from! Imagine if someone you loved told you to get rid of your kids when you were pregnant! Would you not feel disappointed?

I wouldn’t! I would understand that they had my best interest in mind, regardless of the situation!

… I can’t believe the both of you. You’re really gonna stand by that? On her fucking birthday?

Abby’s husband politely thanked everyone for the gifts and food, but he knew it was time to go by the tense expression on his wife’s face. She thanked him for his intuition every day; She was about to cause a wreckage on that patio.

He picked up his tired baby girl from her resting spot on the couch, grabbed his keys, and ushered his wife out the door without another word.

Abby silently cried the entire ride home, her husband's hand enclosed tightly around hers, resting in her lap.

Abby and her husband decided to take Mya to the lake where they got married for her seventh birthday.

She could finally swim without assistance, and they wanted her to live out her mermaid fantasy.

They made an entire weekend out of it: kayaking, fishing, wakeboarding. Mya looked so happy the entire time, completely engulfed with her love for nature. They'd never seen her so explorative; She wanted to see everything the trip had to offer. Including the sunset at the highest point of the hiking trail.

Honey, we’re getting old! We can’t run that fast anymore!

Hurry up, lugs! We have to make it to the top before the sun sets! C’mon!

Before they left the campgrounds, Abby shoved her camera into her husband’s hands, tossing all her bags to the floor and pulling her daughter up onto her back, listening to her laugh as she yelled at her husband to take a picture of them in front of her favorite place.

How the hell do you use this, Abby?!

Just take the damn picture before I fall!

The swear jar is gonna be filled before we leave! Stop cursing, old heads!

Okay, 1, 2, 3! Say cheese!

Abby and her daughter squealed as the camera flashed in front of them, the grounds filled with the family’s joyous laughter.

Abby noticed changes in her husband’s behavior.

He came home from work smelling of liquor, and their cabinets were becoming stocked with tequila and aged bottles of wine. At first, she assumed he was just going out with his work friends after his shift, but when he jokingly expressed to her that he needed liquor to sleep one morning, she grew concerned. Her husband developed sleeping problems years ago, but he never went into detail about it. She felt so guilty.

When Abby gently expressed her worries to him one night before bed, he blew up on her. It was the first time they ever fought. Ever.

I’m fucking stressed, Abigail! I have so much to take care of and I’m not getting any fucking help from you! I can’t fucking sleep anymore!

Do you know how many times I begged you to let me fucking work! You always said no because of Mya! And keep your fucking voice down, my daughter’s sleeping!

Oh, now she’s your daughter?! Really?

Her husband went to sleep on the couch that night while Abby quietly sobbed as she checked on her daughter, relieved at her snoring, unmoving form. She didn’t need to hear any of that.

She cried herself to sleep.

She woke up to the smell of sweetness and coffee. She drowsily rubbed her eyes and entered the kitchen, her husband already sat and sipping his coffee, looking just as exhausted as she felt.

They ate their breakfast in silence before her husband broke it, tearfully mumbling out his apologies.

You and Mya are my life. I love you both so much. I’m gonna get help, I swear. I hate feeling like this.

Abby trusted him; He had her full support.

Mya loved riding her new, pink bike in the rain.

The streets were empty and quiet when it poured heavily, and the vacant roads made for a great practice track. Her father gifted her a tricycle for her eighth birthday, and she couldn’t separate from it. She rode it up and down the street for hours, only to run inside with her clothes completely drenched, change into dry ones, and run back outside and hop onto her new ride.

She begged her mom to buy her an actual bicycle because she felt like she was ready for one, and she gave in to her daughter’s pouty face. She couldn’t deny her; she was too cute!

After many scraped knees and elbows, she was gliding through the streets on her two-wheeler with ease through the rain. She was happy, so Abby was too.

Her husband returned to his normal behavior a year later.

The cabinets and garbage cans were no longer stocked with bottles, and he didn’t smell of Tequila anymore. It was relieving, and she was so proud.

When Abby’s husband asked her on a date, her heart pounded against her chest like she was about to have her first kiss again.

She came home from shopping, dripping wet from the heavy rain, to a bouquet of flowers and a sloppily written note, dotted with hearts and little sparkles.

Taking Mya to see Ross’s daughter. Picking you up at 7:30. I love you.

Hubby.

Abby rang her sister as she bolted up the stairs with a wide grin on her face.

She finally had an excuse to wear her fancy, rosy-red dress!

Abby grew nervous when her husband hadn’t answered the phone. Four times in a fucking row.

They were already a half hour late for their reservation, and Abby’s sister and youngest nephew were patiently waiting for her husband and Mya to walk through the front door.

She bit and picked the rosy polish off her nails despite her sister’s protests.

Girl, they’re fine! Probably just traffic, it’s pouring! Be patient for once before you sweat your make-up off.

Abby knew her sister was right, but she couldn’t ignore the feeling of unease in her gut. Her husband was a lot of things, but he was never late, especially without warning. Something didn’t feel right.

She never considered herself superstitious, but she felt the loud rumbles of thunder were confirmations of her suspicions.

An hour passed, and Abby couldn’t breathe.

When her husband’s bone-shattering, slurry cries rang through her speaker, terror shook through her body like the lightning bolts that shone behind the clouds. She was instantly panic-stricken, trying to make out the words that vibrated her ears.

She looked at her sister with fear and confusion before the words Mya… hit… car… bike tore through the line like a knife, piercing her in her chest with intent to kill.

She couldn’t breathe or think, and her phone dropped from her hands before the world around her went dark.

Abby looked down at her drunk husband as he crouched on the slippery, black pavement, grabbing at her ankles, and sounding like he would cough his lungs up as he cried her name, wailing out apologies.

She doesn’t know how she got to her mutual friend’s neighborhood, or why her husband's cries were gut-wrenching, or why she was sitting in the back of an ambulance with the oxygen mask still strapped around her head.

… Why wasn’t Mya sitting next to her, holding her hand, and telling her everything was going to be okay?

Her sister and nephew were sobbing as a police officer explained the events of the scene, but Abby couldn’t hear anything. She refused to hear the poisonous words they spewed at her about their child. All she had to do was wait for her baby girl to run up and whine about how much she missed her.

She would come. She thought. She would. She would. She would.

… Hit and run… We’re so sorry… loss.

Abby shook her head and her nails dug into her palms.

She would come. Her baby would come. She loved the rain too much; She would never miss a thunder show. She would come.

The blaring rumbles that rang through the sky confirmed it. Her baby would come. The universe believed it, so she had to.

Abby looked up from the broken man in front of her and caught a glimpse of the mangled, pink bicycle and stretcher that was draped in a white sheet, surrounded by people dressed in black coats and badges with their heads bowed. The outline of the body underneath the pale, red-speckled covering was small, unmoving… Looked too much like—

Her head dropped right back to her choking husband.

No, no, no! She would come, she would come, she would come—

An hour passed, and the rain stopped.

Mya never came. Abby couldn’t stop screaming.

Abby hated hospitals.

The paramedics were fearful of leaving her and her husband alone in their hysteria, suggesting to detectives that they should return to the hospital until they were stable.

She never thought she would distance herself from her husband; She even shocked herself when she harshly shoved him away from her when he reached for a hug. His devastated expression tore her heart to shreds, but she couldn’t look at him, hold him, bear to smell the alcohol that masked the formerly comforting scent of his cologne. Not at that moment.

They were placed in separate rooms for the night, and Abby wanted to die.

She heard the broken hollers and whimpers of her parents and siblings out in the hallway as the doctors explained the situation. She felt like she would suffocate if she stayed trapped in this bed any longer.

Everything’s fine. Everything’s fine, everything’s fine—

Her brain’s chants were paused by her screeching sobs as her eyes squeezed shut, bile creeping up her throat despite her attempts to swallow. Her throat was dry, and each choking gulp felt like shards of glass that sliced through her esophagus, all the way down to her stomach. She couldn’t fucking breathe.

She heard the heart rate monitor increase in beeps beside her as she wailed, a few nurses urgently reentering the room to try and calm her down. She felt like her throat was bleeding with each shout of her daughter’s name.

Mya was dead, and she desperately wanted to join her, souls entangled for eternity.

Three days passed. Abby hated the world.

Her and her husband sat in his parked car in front of their home, staring straight ahead as rain poured from the sky.

They said nothing to each other; they hadn’t even looked in each other’s direction since they left the hospital.

Abby felt tears jerk in her dry, lifeless eyes, allowing them to stream down her face, matching the pace of the heavy droplets that hit the window. She thought that she was hallucinating; She could almost hear her daughter’s cheerful laugh coming from outside.

She slowly turned her head towards their home, and bile rose her throat at the sight of her daughter’s discarded, pink tricycle that lay flat on the porch. She hadn’t touched it in a while, thanks to her new bike.

She opened the passenger door and threw up on the side of the road as her husband sobbed next to her.

She wanted to die and, deep in her empty gut, she knew he desired the same.

Abby looked in the mirror of her parent’s guest room, completely still.

She was draped in all black from head to toe, wearing her daughter’s black bow at the end of her braid. She regretted putting on makeup; her mascara was already streaming down her face in wet, black lines.

Her under eyes were dark and her vessels were busted from crying for a week and a half straight. She doesn’t remember the last time she slept or eaten, and she didn’t want to. Every dream she had was filled with her daughter’s laughter, and she couldn’t stomach anything thinking about the angelic sound.

Her husband stood in the doorframe, just as visibly destroyed as she was. Just as lifeless.

They exchanged looks, but neither said a word. They hadn’t spoken to each other in days. Abby had nothing to say to him.

He was the reason they were burying their daughter, and she despised him for it. The mourning she felt for her child was stronger than her love for him, and she didn’t care how selfish it was.

The rain was beating down on the black umbrella that draped over Abby’s sobbing, hunched form, her nails digging into the sopping dirt and tearing at the grass. Her mother’s dress was covered in wet stains.

Her wails and pleas for her child back were painful and loud: she felt caressing hands on her back, and it took everything not to slap them away.

She didn’t need fucking comfort! She needed her daughter! Her precious, innocent, darling daughter, Mya. She would’ve given anything—given her life up for her baby. She deserved to live, to see the ocean, to become the mermaid she always wanted to be. She hated her fucking husband.

The sight of her daughter’s casket being lowered into the ground felt like a sharp blade in her chest. Her father and husband had to drag her from the ground and to her feet despite her desperate shouts to join Mya in the dirt.

When she was placed in her parent’s backseat, she clutched the passenger headrest in front of her to center herself. Her nails tore through the leather as she hyperventilated, small whimpers of her daughter’s name leaving her mouth. She felt like she would vomit again.

The car was filled with her family’s cries as the clouds poured their sorrow onto the car.

Abby quietly prayed to herself as her distraught mother drove them all back home, hoping that her daughter’s spirit would grow to be as large as the sea.

Just like she always wanted.

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grief fucking sucks lol

this was heavy 4 me. i love yall

taggie waggies :3 @ohlawdthebirds @fibrogirlie @unangelic-thoughts @chrry1ovr @uraesthete @gravygranules @digit4lslut @machetegirl109 @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @macaroni676 @sillygooselit @nil-eena @elliesgirlll @hi2647 @fr0thycoffee @mai5mai @sweet-lover-girl

prologue. part one. part two. part three. part four.

──────────────────────────────────────────

#𓈒∘☁︎let the rain sing☁︎∘𓈒 #dbf!abby #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby anderson angst #abby anderson au #works 𖧧࣪#abby smut

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sweet-honey-tears · 5 months

Text

Dance

Greek god Shinso x Female Reader

SUPRISE! I wrote this in one day 👁👄👁 please like it. I was gonna do yandere but that didn't happen… I hope you enjoy🤍🖤 I tried to proof read- this was about three pages 💥👄💥

Other Greek god stuff: these are old so they may be crap Kirhsima and Bakugou as gods Yandere Kiribaku gods saving the reader from sacrifice

Shinso watched your feet move to the rhythm, your body turning like water around a rock. Moving smoothly as your skirt decorated with coins sang with your movements. Your face held a smile but a drop of confidence in every movement you took. You were smiling but focused. Shinso smirked as you brought out the red fans, twirling them in the wrist to symbolize the death of an enemy. Shinso peered over at Bakugou and Kirishima, the two gods seeming pleased. Bakugou gave a slight grin as he watched the pain trace your brows as you twisted your body to show the havoc the god of war could have on the person he deemed worthy of his wrath. Kirishima seemed happy at your recognition of the brotherhood he represented, grabbing onto your fellow dancer's hand to show union among soldiers.

Shinso, unlike many other gods, he didn't have a dance. A temple, yes, but no accurate recognition within the arts. Regardless, Shinso was the god of the mind. That small thing that controlled everyone, he was the person who decided who had control over their bodies in fits of anger or even intelligence, yet he paled in recognition when standing next to the other gods. The people would say a second or even third tier, though most had the intelligence to never say such aloud.

When the ceremony ended, Shinso watched you quickly bolt away, the sweat on your tired body cooling with the autumn air.

"It's interesting." Kirishima's voice broke the silence among them. "Why do you think she left so quickly when she led the dance?" There was more curiosity in his voice than disdain or offense.

"Who cares? One extra leaving among them is nothing to worry about."

"Maybe they're tired," he heard Mina pipe up, the god of dance and fun. Bakugou grunted, and the purple-haired god could only roll his eyes. You were a favorite among the three gods; your diligence with dance and worship to them was clear as day. Mina also seemed extra excited the moment you started to practice, your laugh echoing the square as you and your fellow dancers practiced. Then Kirishima would lean over Mina's shoulder, smiling toothily at your loyalty to the sport and your dancers. Then Bakugou, who would laugh proudly at your determination and rather fire spirit. Picking up a discarded shoe and chucking it at a passerby who dared gripe about your routine.

Shinso enjoyed you for another reason: your dance. You made one for him, only him. You had come up with it when you were young, and Shinso watched you with fondness and a smile when you were a toddler tripping over your feet. He is only a few years old, then you are the time, and found your determination to an unworshipped god as himself endearing; maybe that is why you were one of the smartest of the village. Now you were an adult, unmarried but married to dance. Perfecting the dance for the mind god. Now, you scurried to the safety of your home, stripping yourself of the fiery red jewels and placing them delicately on the table. Shinso, invisible to your eyes, stood near the door, watching as you began the dance. Moving yourself to walk a circle, your body still exhausted from the dance you had just finished. Your hands moved up, and you drew shapes as you spun and moved. The bells on your wrist jingling.

You were smooth on your feet, and Shinso watched, struggling to not move, as you collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily. You had managed to finish the dance perfectly before your body gave. And Shinso, struggling to not catch you, watched. He couldn't make his presence known that clearly; it would go against nearly everything the gods stood for. So, instead of the next morning, as you left your tiny home for dance and worship, a slick cat sat a foot away from the door. Its bright purple eyes staring at you. Shinso watched with a smirk as you baby-talked the cat, scratching it behind the ears. When the feline meowed loudly, you froze before returning and giving a high pitch meow as well. Shinso watched, likely to your horror if you knew.

₪₪₪₪₪₪۞₪₪₪₪₪₪

Ten days had passed, and as usual, you danced for Shinso- the god of intelligence every night. And every day, a cat would greet you at the door, dropping flowers, small objects, or itself at your feet.

It was this one time, midnight, when you had a candle lit as you danced. That's when you were caught. To be honest, Shinso wasn't even sure what you did wrong. Human rules seemed so asinine and meaningless. But yet you stood barefoot on your wooden stage, the one you used to dance on daily. Around you, men with lances and spears stood, waiting with bated breath for permission to end your beautiful life. You were going to dance till you collapsed, where then you would be stabbed and bled to death for the villagers to see.

Shinso was unaware of where his fellow gods were, likely busy with other villages and wars, unaware of their favorite being told to dance till exhaustion and death.

The back of your mind screamed at you; had you taken the hand offered to you a year ago, you would have been free of this horrid nightmare. Just trapped without dance and movement, but not in this particular torment. Yet you knew that would have yielded a more slow and steady death than this, forced to stay home and never dance again.

Your eyes peering at your sisters of dance, some holding coldness, others pain, a few seeming happy at your demise. Snakes, you had thought, happy to watch their lead go so they could take your place.

"Dance for your god, Traitor."

There it was, Shinso's mind clicked; the town didn't worship him. They must refuse to. That alone was a death sentence for some gods, though Shinso wouldn't usually care. However, this was different. The flutes started, adapting to your rhythm as you showed your improvised dance for the god. It seemed to Shinso that the band that also played for you seemed sorrowful. Their music, while lively, seemed dead and soulless. One young man banging the wooden drums, the thick skin of cattle attached over the top, seemed to be quietly weeping.

You spun, the mocking purple dress they dressed you in floating with you, the broken coins on the dress colliding and jingling. Your face held a scared and happy look. Your smile tight, feet moving with a perfect rhythm. When it ended, the man from before shouted: "Again!" And so it began. The hair on the back of Shinso's neck rose, and his jaw tightened as you went again, your bare feet scrapping the rough wooden stage, causing what he imagined splinters and rips in your trained souls.

"Again!"

“Again," your sloppy movement led one man to jab his spear at you, barely missing your side. Roars of laughter ran through the ground. The drummer wept louder as your sister in dance screamed in dread.

"Enough!" He boomed. The world went silent; he couldn't stand to watch your decimation of him be turned more into the way of torture. You collapsed, legs shaking from exhaustion from completing this draining dance 5 times. Shinso had reached his limit; the other gods could rip him apart later for disregarding the rules. The village cared little for signs of his presence; that was made clear when the black cat looming and hissing was pushed aside. The purple-eyed feline hissed louder, only to be kicked. He gave them a warning, but they chose to disregard it. Shinso walked to the stairs, flipping his wrist at the guards who dared block his path. Their bodies snapped to boards, stiffly standing upright with their lances lying on the ground. Shinso walked to your crumbled form; even in pain, you managed to go to your knees. Head down to show respect. He could hear small sniffles and saw why when peering over your hunched form. Your heels, souls, everything was splattered with drops of blood and sharp pieces of wood. Anger rose in his throat. "you punished the favorite of the gods." He spoke slowly and calmly. Anger faltered heavily in his voice. "Mina. Kirishima and Bakugou will hear of this betrayal." He spoke, watching the crowd grow tense with fear and worry.

He could hear the quickening of your heartbeat and breathing. Slowly and surely, he picked your body up. Allowing you to struggle and break free if you wish, yet you didn't. Instead, you stayed in his hold, silently letting tears slip from your eyes as you gazed at the crowd that once upon a time adored you. "You will know their wrath, as well as mine, very soon." It was a promise, and the village soon broke out in chaos and fear as the deity, and you seemed to vanish.

₪₪₪₪₪₪۞₪₪₪₪₪₪

"They did WHAT?!" Bakugou screamed. Your bandaged form leaned further into Shinso's side, causing the god's heart to flutter slightly. Your feet were skillfully wrapped in bandages and dressed in fine silks. You watched the red-haired god grow increasingly irate, pacing around the room as he listened to Shinso. Mina sat on the counter with a sweet smile as she listened, though her grip on the marble counter led it to start cracking increasingly more. "They underestimate us. They must take our omens as nothing more than coincidences." Kirishima spoke. Mina hummed in agreement. Shisno didn't say anything; he knew they took their omens seriously, and by the way, Bakugou looked at Kirishima, he knew as well. Yet neither of them said anything. "Then we show them." She mused, a wicked grin stretching her lips. Shinso's hand rubbed your back, allowing you to hide further from him.

₪₪₪₪₪₪۞₪₪₪₪₪₪

Shinso watched you dance on the marble stage, your body moving like water once again. You dance every gob's recorded dance. Your body finding unlimited energy in its new goddess form.

You were a minor-minor goddess only worshipped by the remainder of your village. Specifically your sisters of dancers, the musicians, and a few townspeople who cried and wailed at your failed execution.

The cats, purple eyes, and various fur coats meowed and chirped at your dancing. Amused and interacted with the movements and tingling of bells and charms.

"Shinso!"

You called, your smile bright and happy as you finished the dance of sleep. You reached your hand out, the golden bells jingling. "Come dance!" You called, grabbing his arm and pulling him on the stage. He allowed you to, smiling lazily you both freely danced. The goddess of dance moved with the mind god. Dancing still, their audience grew tired and fell into a purring slumber.

₪₪₪₪₪₪۞₪₪₪₪₪₪

@bookishgalaxies

#bnha headcannons #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha writing #greek god au #mha au #bnha au #shinso x reader #bnha shinsou #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinsou headcanons #shinso hitoshi #mha shinsou #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x y/n #mha x female reader #bnha x fem!reader #fem!reader

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napakmahal · 24 days

Text

Butterfly Stroke

It is a truth universally acknowledged, babies are not easy. You accepted it when you realized you were going to have a baby, when you had a baby, and when your baby kept you from doing the things you both loved to do and needed to do. But your mindset deviated from that whenever you watched your boyfriend with your baby.

“Ready…up,up, and down!” Tadashi cooed at Bodie while bouncing her up and down in the pool.

He was a natural.

When Tadashi was building Baymax, he studied all types of medicine and human sciences. Including psychology, which had a sub-subject of how fatherhood and motherhood is affected by infants. He also learned that many parents have reservations about teaching their children to swim out of fear of them drowning. Shockingly, drowning is a very unfortunate and sad cause of death in infants and toddlers because of how silent it is. From then on he made sure he would always teach his children how to swim. It seemed dumb. Why not teach your kids how to navigate 70% of the world if you have the means to?

You clutched your hands over your chest as a feeling of worry rested in your stomach. It’s not like you were totally panicked. Tadashi was a strong swimmer and would rather throw himself in front of a bullet train than have his baby get hurt in any way. Still you couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

“Baby, careful.” You pleaded. “Watch her face.”

Tadashi reassured you, “I got her, don’t worry.”

Despite your worry, Bodie seemed to be having the time of her life. Her chubby little face was contorted in laughter and happiness as she pounded her baby fists into the surface of the pool. Even as a baby, she loved water. Just like her daddy in every way possible. Tadashi was a surfer and a champion swimmer in high school. And he probably would have gone on to be the next Micheal Phelps if he didn’t choose to go to SFIT for a 5,000 dollar scholarship in the robotics and physics department.

“Look at you!” Tadashi cooed at Bodie. His bare chest pressed up against her tiny body as she started kicking her chubby little legs. “Waaa- my baby is so strong, look Bodie! Say hi to mommy!”

Tadashi grabbed Bodie’s hand and waved it at you.

“Hi baby!” You squealed back at them.

Tadashi smiled before motioning his hand for you to join them to be fully immersed in the pool. He leaned over and pressed his lips to the side of your face before shaking his jet black hair back and forth like a dog.

“EW!” You squealed before grabbing Bodie into your arms. “Bodi say ‘ew, daddy!’”

Tadashi laughed before ducking his way under the water and butterfly swimming across the way.

“You gonna be a swimmer?” You asked Bodie.

Bodie giggled, “Dada!”

“Yeah? ” you giggled. “like daddy?”

Tadashi had already swam back to you two and hugged you from behind. Dripping wet.

“When can I take her surfing?” He mumbled, face dropped into the dip of your shoulder.

You let out an audible laugh. “Never!”

“What?! That’s not fair,” He whined. “Bodie tell mommy that isn’t fair.”

“Nooo, mama.” She babbled in response.

Your boyfriend threw his head back in laughter and your jaw dropped. But you were only half joking. Once, at the beach during summer break Tadashi fell off his board after slipping from a wave. For almost ten minutes you couldn’t find him until another group of surfers pushed him towards the shore. He was coughing up water and had to just lay down for a few minutes to catch his breath. You’re not sure. If you’ve ever felt so scared. Especially when he sent you a photo two days later of him scuba diving with Hiro.

“No you’re right though, it’s dangerous.” He agreed with you.

You leaned your head back into his chest to kiss the bottom of his chin. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Tadashi reached over and squished his daughter's baby cheeks. “And you!”

#baymax #big hero 6 #big hero six #tadashi hamada #disney #fanfic #hiro hamada #bh6 x reader #tadashi hamada x reader #napakmahal #baby fever #summer #summer aesthetic

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agent-calivide · 1 month

Text

I'm being a smartass rn, but Juniper didn't fall 32 stories-

He got electrocuted in the face and hurtled down into an exploding building, I wouldn't be surprised if he got buried by rubble or burnt to death, but like- I see this argument that the fall is 32 stories and nobody could survive that and that's simply incorrect

When looking at the blueprint alone we see that this building has a normal building on the bottom, it's not empty space down to the ground floor.

If we assume that every opening that we go up past at the end of Rising Phoenix is "floor level" then from the prison the heads of state are in to Juniper on the catwalk there's only 6 floors. That's still a massive fall, but there's a HUGE difference between 6 stories and 32 stories. He's falling from 32-26 not 32-1

that's the difference between an 84 foot fall and a 448 foot fall. And that's assuming that he didn't hit anything on the way down. This is a kind of fucked up analogy, but my dad always told me that if you see a toddler falling from a skyscraper, you should try to catch it not because you'll actually catch the toddler, but because you giving the toddler another point of impact before it hits the ground give it a better chance of surviving because you slowed them and diffused some of the force.

So if he hit anything on the way down, the missile, a bit of railing from one of the other floors, anything on the way down, that impact would have been multiple small impacts rather than one big hit on the ground floor. On top of this, after the electrocution we see that he falls backwards, laying horizontal rather than a directly vertical drop.

This too helps in multiple ways, firstly falling with your body horizontal slows your descent and once again adds to your chances of survival and having the impact spread across your whole body rather than one point like your head or your feet also helps.

This is all to say, I know that Schell likely plans on keeping JJ dead, but if you're gonna argue that someone's stupid for holding out hope at least make sure you don't use "he fell 32 stories" as the focal point of your argument. Use the fact that he got electrocuted to the face and was laying on a metal grate in a collapsing building that was actively exploding if you wanna say someone's stupid for hoping he comes back.

and like if Ulanova can survive getting shot, Prism can survive a helicopter crash, Caliente can survive his bee allergy at the hands of hundreds of thousands of bees, and Solaris can survive a fall from space I don't know why Juniper surviving Peace Keeper is so unfathomable, this franchise loves fakeout deaths, but that's a whole other thing.

#i expect you to die #ieytd #ieytd2 #i expect you to die 2 #john juniper #ieytd analysis #ieytd spoilers

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majorproblems77 · 20 days

Text

Sacred Realm updated! :D

New chapter new ramble here I am!

Sacred realm has returned with Chapter 4, named The hearald and the gorons, (Considering we start by climbing death mountain this brings me joy.

I'll get the important stuff done, This is done with permission from @zelda-the-sacred-realm, and all art from the comics belongs to the comic artist.

The link to the comic can be found here! Go give it some love it's expertly done! :D

Now, grab some popcorn and a drink, sit down someplace comfortable and have fun!

Lets go!

It absolutely must be said the backgrounds of this comic never cease to amaze me at how detailed they are. I low key almost feel as cold as it looks there. It's damn incredible.

Oh man i love him so much he's so sweet

He's just a curious little bab

Time really do be >:(

Name drop! :D Huzzah!

Link you innocent bean

Is that who i think it is?

checks notes

IT IS

Okay okay okay Time to do my research. I'll go into it more when we get through the panels with him in.

This is so sweet, Interesting that he knew Twi when he was alive. (Note the lack of fun yellow glow that the other spirits have)

Calling him master. Considering what we know from twilight princess and the hero of time and the hero of twilight this makes a bunch of sense.

Oh he's so pretty

So from my understanding of Twilight's lore, He sees time as a mentor (Hence calling him master.) Twilight seems to be alive here, so i would say that this is either during his actual adventure or just after it, meaning that the area we see around them must be Twilight's time.

(Also Epona beloved)

OH MY GOD HE DID IT THE HERO

WE GOT A TIME BOOP IN COMIC IT IS CANON NOW

link will 100% do it again, maybe even Twilight will get involved.

Trying to decipher what Sky was saying here was fun, also Sky being protective of Link gives me life okay

Sky truly is the best

God these enemies are so cool!

The cinnamon roll needs assistance, is that why he's in orange? Cause he's a little cinnamon roll?

(New headcanon you can't stop me)

Save him

SKYYYYYY

Protective Sky is the best Sky alright

He's so cool!

But the lines I assume are from the spirit barrier from before. Like he's fighting the barrier to be here? Is this gonna hurt Sky to do this? It looks like he's struggling.

I'm going to assume he can't keep this up forever and this is a last resort move.

And Time knowing Sky?! Hello? Makes me wonder if the spirits have been in contact like this.

But I've got a theory about this

I think Time may have not been the only one to aid Twilight. Hence why he knows Sky.

I dont have much to base this on right now but I'm hoping we will see more about this in the next chapter so I can elaborate on this further.

Also look at Link grabbing Time's scarf like he's a toddler, the little question marks are just so adorable and I love this man okay.

Okay, I think thats everything! Thank you so much for hanging out with me as I go through this comic and yell about my faves and the cinnamon roll that is this iteration of link.

And thanks again to the artist for letting me do this!

Hope you have a wonderful day! :D

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mamawasatesttube · 1 year

Note

“I know, I know, I’m stuck with you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” please!

"Thanks for coming on such short notice." Dick both looks and sounds harried, Bat-comm in hand as he ushers Kon in from the balcony. "I'll try to be back as soon as I can, but you never know with Arkham breakouts—also, there's some leftover chicken soup in the fridge, if he can keep that down it'll be great, and—yes, B, I'm on my way, I heard you the first seventeen times—sorry, Conner, it's a bit hectic, but—"

"Hey, man." Kon gives him a reassuring thumbs-up. "I got this. You go do your thing and let me wrangle the poor sickly scrunkle, yeah?"

Dick pauses on one leg, one shoe on, the other in hand. "The scrunkle?"

"Tim," Kon clarifies. "You know, 'cuz he's scrunkly."

"...I see," Dick says, not sounding like he particularly sees at all. But there's no time to explain; he flashes a quick grin, fires off a two-fingered salute, and calls one more "Thanks again!", and then he's gone.

Kon cocks his head and waits.

After seventeen seconds, the jingle bell he stuck to the outside of Dick's bedroom windowframe on his way in chimes, and he snorts to himself as he superspeeds right on over to the fire escape outside.

"Predictable, Rob," he says, lounging midair. Tim, staring at the bell in his hand with great prejudice, scowls; the effect is rather ruined by his adorable hot pink bird-printed pajamas. "You definitely have a fever if you fell for that one."

Tim folds his arms over his chest and glares at him. Coughs. Glares some more. "I don't need a"—cough, cough—"babysitter. I'm not that sick. Dick's just fussing."

Kon eases himself back in through the window, closes it against the night air, and presses his lips to Tim's forehead, ignoring the way Tim splutters. He's cute when he gets grumpy. "Mmm, well, that certainly feels like a high fever to me!"

"It's only a hundred and one," Tim mutters. And coughs again. Christ on a bike, he really sounds like death warmed over. The red flush to ohis face really isn't helping things, either.

Also. Christ on a bike? Really? Sheesh, Kon's spending too much time with Ma's friends on Bingo Sundays.

"Mm, yeah, so we're getting you back in bed," Kon informs him, and plucks him off the ground, sets him on his hip like the world's most disgruntled toddler, and carries him back over to Dick's bed, where he's clearly been being fussed over already, if the box of tissues, empty mugs, and cough drops are anything to go by.

"I'm not that sick!" Tim protests. Kon sees right through him, though; his wiggles of dissent are weaker than usual. "I can help. You heard Dick earlier, it's all hands on deck—"

"Which is why, if things get particularly dire, Dick already said he'll call me in," Kon says, and draws the blankets up over Tim's chest. "Seriously, Rob. The others have it in hand. And I," he grins, cupping Tim's face in his palms, "have you in hand."

Tim favors him with a very flat look, followed by a very pathetic sniffle. Oh, jeez, Kon wants to bundle him up and feed him soup and fuss over him forever. "Ha ha."

"I know, I'm hilarious." Kon squishes his cheeks before letting go. "Now, I'm gonna go get you some soup and your next dose of meds, and you're gonna stay right here in bed and not try any more escape attempts because you know I'm gonna catch you and bring you right back. And we are gonna watch your choice of 'Wendy', 'Star Trek', 'Star Wars', or 'Lord of the Rings', until you inevitably knock the fuck out because you are sick as hell, dude, and I do not mean in the Tony Hawk way. Got it?"

Tim heaves a weary, put-upon sigh that just sends him into another coughing fit; it sounds rough and scratchy and painful just to hear, and Kon winces in sympathy, leaning over to rub his back. Aw, Tim...

"I guess I can live with that," Tim rasps, his eyes watering. Kon is seized by the urge to kiss his forehead again, properly this time; he wants to take care of him so bad.

"Good! 'Cuz you don't get a choice." Kon gently ruffles his hair, eases him back against his pillows, and then tuts softly to himself and strokes the hair back from Tim's sweaty forehead. His poor Rob...

"Yeah, I know, I know. I'm stuck with you." Tim sighs again, closing his eyes. After a moment, though, he smiles ever-so-slightly, his eyelashes dark against his pale cheeks. "...I wouldn't have it any other way."

That's gotta be the fever talking—it's true, and Kon knows it's true, but Tim wouldn't just say it like that—but it makes Kon's heart flutter all the same.

He leans down and kisses Tim's forehead before he can lose his resolve. "Right back at'cha, Rob," he says, smiling. "Now lemme go get you your soup."

"Good luck," Tim mumbles, opening his eyes just slightly. "Don't fall in, have fun, et cetera..."

Kon laughs. "Will do," he says, and stands to leave.

(It's not until he's waiting in front of the microwave that he realizes: since the moment he left Tim's side, he's been—quite literally—walking on air.)

50 Prompts About Devotion

#timkon #tim #kon #rimi writes #huilannie #tim: is sick. dick: Come Here I Will Make You Soup. tim: oh you dont have to thats ok-- / dick: I Was Not Asking.#also nudging my dick & kon agenda forward again ever so slightly. but its mostly kon fussing <3 love kon getting to be a mom friend <3 #and also them both being stupid and pining a little. but mostly its about the mom friending

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bcbdrums · 2 months

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📂

Any headcannon about where Maka's mom is?

WELL.

anime canon first. either she's 1) dead, and Spirit sends the postcards. 2) legit went on a never-ending vacation after the divorce with no intent to return (and heck maybe it's still Spirit sending the postcards), or 3) she was exiled by Lord Death for not sticking around to do her freaking job.

manga canon is...basically the same, except no postcards exist of course.

all in all.... my headcanon is, she was a lousy mother from the start, barely spending time with baby Maka. dropping her at daycare at each and every opportunity. she still wanted to do her job at first, but. teen pregnancy kinda ruins life's trajectory, you know? plus...her weapon (and i say "her weapon" loosely she straight-up stole Stein's weapon) no longer belongs to her; she wanted clout for making Lord Death's personal weapon i think, so schemed to get Spirit. didn't count on getting pregnant, oops. then her weapon is no longer hers cuz...what did she think was gonna happen by turning a scythe into a death scythe?? and she's got a baby. no more school, no more missions, probably no more friends... or few. and those she has are the ones she'd yeet off to see when dropping Maka at daycare.

i think that she stuck around in Maka's life consistently for less than five years. like. idk. i think she'd take off on long trips for herself. traveling the world. she was likely a person with great wanderlust; i think many meisters may be, but that's a side-note. but like... what was she gonna do? she's gotta be a mother now. her life as she'd planned it to be.... traveling the world, taking missions... is over. i think she very selfishly just...left. while Maka was still young. barely ever came around for visits, fought with Spirit the whole time she did...

i also think she actively poisoned Maka's thinking of her father. i think she put it into Maka's head that Spirit was a cheat, and little toddler Maka drew on available evidence to make her mother's words seem true. (see: this post where i spell out how it's possible Spirit never cheated at all.)

and then once the divorce was final, which, honestly probably only took so long because she couldn't be bothered to come around to actually go through with it... she just left for good. she can't be the great renowned meister she wanted to be anymore, so she's kinda floating around, wasting the rest of her youth, trying to find herself. and not succeeding it seems, or else she'd make some attempt to be a better mother in my opinion. back to manga here... she couldn't even be bothered to give Spirit his ring back in person at the divorce; she mailed it to him later on. like. man.

i do feel sorry for her. but running away from her family is not a solution. and stealing someone's weapon to begin with...was a bad move. this woman is not anyone to be idolized or held on a pedestal.

i could go on and on and on about this, but... i'll do that in various fanfics :) so yeah, where is she? she took off and is doing her own thing and has no connections anymore to the DWMA, is the headcanon i'm going with for now.

thanks for the ask!!!

#soul eater #spirit albarn #maka albarn #maka's mother #kami albarn

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