#i'll ask my wife for sources when i wake up
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So is no one gonna talk about how Russia is apparently gonna force trans people to detransition?
#cherry chats#russia#trans matters#i'll ask my wife for sources when i wake up#but her roommate is trans and terrified#obviously#anyways seems media might just not care about russians
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Been playing a lil' bit of Rebirth and found this in my drafts - dunno if I'll continue it but throwing it out into the world.
Sephiroth x female reader (reader is President Shinra's daughter, no spoilers for Rebirth, just your average Sephiroth lore)
You wake up with a start as your book hits the floor with a thud. You’d fallen asleep on the sofa, reading. The only recreational activity you’re permitted these days.
“Hello, little one.”
You must be dreaming. You have to be, because you haven’t heard his voice in five years.
Not since he'd left on a mission - an awkward goodbye on your part at the door of your quarters. He'd pressed a kiss against the back of your hand, ever chivalrous.
But he’s there, towering, in the shadows of the corner, his eyes almost glowing. They said he was dead. You’d played the part of a war widow, despite the fact the two of you weren’t even married when he was killed in action. You were never sure if the wedding was truly going to happen - surely just a PR stunt to boost morale. The war hero and the darling of Shinra.
When he hadn't returned, you'd been sent out to endless memorials, dressed head to toe in black, told not to speak, before you secluded yourself to process your grief - or at least that’s what the press releases said when your father or brother had been asked about your rare public appearances.
“I thought you’d be more pleased to see your betrothed.”
“You’re…” You swallow, though your throat remains as dry as it was. “You’re dead.”
Sephiroth steps forward into the dim light of the room and you hear something drip on the floor.
“Am I?” At first, you think he’s scowling at your statement, the fact that you’d think he, of all people, was dead. But within a blink, he’s somehow in front of you, one hand grasping your chin with firm fingers. “What happened to your face?”
“I… displeased the President.”
“He hit you.” It’s not a question. He turns your face to the side, taking in the purple and yellow bruising before tsking. “That won’t do.”
There’s another drip as he releases his hold on your chin.
“It is not as bad as it looks.”
“I do not tolerate others marring my things.”
Drip.
You should be indignant at being referred to as a thing, as his thing - you know you should - but perhaps it’s the shock of him standing before you, as if no time had passed at all, and the odd noise that appears to accompany him. Your eyes are drawn down to his left hand, the source of whatever was dripping on the linoleum.
He notices your stare.
“Allow me to make introductions. Little one, I’d like you to meet my mother, Jenova.”
He holds his hand aloft, now practically beaming and it takes a moment for you to process what you actually see before you.
"Mother, meet my soon to be wife."
He’s holding a head.
--
Please do comment if you'd be interested in more!
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I had a day off yesterday.
And I can already practically hear the assumptions that such a statement is prompting the reader to make. Those assumptions are wrong. I don't mean I didn't work. I did, for about 8 hours. That's not at all what I mean.
I mean my wife took the kids out at 9:30, spent the night with her mom, isn't back yet the next morning.
There are things I NEED people on this website to understand about parenting. And I've talked about it before, and I'll talk about it again, because honestly the way that Tumblr as a cohort talks about parents makes me sick. Multiple polls have shown that only about 2% of people on here are parents. We're a huge minority, and we're constantly talked over, ignored, or accused of being bad parents (like, personally, I have had people reply to my comments or come on to my posts and tell me I shouldn't have my kids). In my case, being a parent means I'm almost 41, I'm married to @ramblingandpie, and our children are inching up on being 8 and 6 years old.
My entire day, and therefore my entire life, revolves around them. I'm up most mornings at 5 AM, because that's the earliest they're "allowed" to wake up, and so my brain just defaults to being awake around then - better to wake up before them, at least then I get a few minutes in the morning. Between 5 and 7, I sit with them, do my social media, work on side blogs, study Chinese. Then it's helping them get ready for school, then my wife or I or both get them on the bus, and then I work until the last possible minute, which is either when I need to go pick them up for an after school activity or when I need to go down and meet them off the bus. My afternoons are after school activities, chores such as washing the dishes and cleaning up toys, talking with them, working with them, playing with them. Their bedtime starts at 7:40, and my son gets scared if I leave before he falls asleep so I sit with him until about 8:15. As soon as he's asleep, I go fall on my face, sleep as best I can, then wake up and do it again. Overnight, it's hard to sleep deeply, because about once a week someone will wake up in the middle of the night and need help. That could be as minimal as a hug or as complex as having to completely change the bedding on a bunk bed at 2 AM while also comforting a child who is afraid they'll be in trouble, or afraid they're sick, or afraid of their nightmare, or, or, or. Further, if a child is awake, there is always noise. I usually study Chinese with two or more competing sources of noise. I read the same way. My life is loud, and active, and consists of constant interruptions.
I adore my family, and I love my children, but this is terrible for me.
I do all of this as an neurodivergent introvert. My clinical depression is at least medicated, mostly because post-partum depression after I gave birth the first time nearly drove me to suicidal in under a week (we were expecting this and were prepared, fortunately, getting help was as simple as a phone call). The constant noise and interruptions and forced socialibility are about the worst combination of home-life I could be subjected to. I spend far too many early mornings just breathing deeply and gearing myself up to be subjected to the wall of Loud, Boisterous, Needing-My-Attention that is every minute when anyone else in the house is awake.
So what did my day off look like?
I helped get the kids ready to go and did some morning chores. I'd been up at 4:30 AM so I also had already social media'd and studied. Then, while my wife finished the preparations, I started work, and I worked from about 8 am to about 4 pm, straight. I didn't get hungry so didn't bother stopping for lunch. No one interrupted me, no one asked me to look at anything they'd built, no one broke my concentration, no sounds could be heard except those I'd chosen myself.
I'd been out the day before at a local shopping street and listened closely to the things the kids said they wanted, so at 4 I grabbed a couple orders I needed to ship for work and drove to our local downtown, dropped the orders in a post box, then went back to the shops and did some Christmas shopping in the 45 minutes or so before everything closed. I think I'm basically done with what we'll get them - other bigger things will be left to grand parents - so that's a load off, I literally had a stress dream earlier this week about it being 12/24 and having forgotten to do the shopping and having to go to (oh horrors) the mall on the day before Christmas. (Reminder: I'm a Jewish atheist. It's just virtually impossible not to Holiday in the Culturally Christian Hellscape that is the US. Also, my wife is Christian. So.) Found something cute for my wife, too, even tho I already know the main thing I'm getting her. Then, I realized - one of my favorite restaurants is on that block. So. I went there. I sat by myself at a table, only the indistinct restaurant hubbub around me. I read four or five chapters of my book, and ate a savory crepe, and drank lovely fruit tea, and got a scone to-go that I'll eat for lunch today. It was more than I probably should have spent on myself - about $25, including tip - but fuck it. I only get maybe a handful of days off all year, and I'm allowed to indulge a little.
Then I came home. There were no lights on. There was no noise. I had considered doing some more merch work while watching TV on the actual television (my kids are too young for subtitled shows, so usually if I want to watch My Shows I either have to do it on my computer when they're not around, or put them on and read all the subtitles aloud while trying to keep up and process the actual meaning of what I'm reading). But when I got back, the quiet and dark was so goddamn NICE that instead I curled up on the couch and read more of my book. I did that until bedtime - still about 8:15, because I'm exhausted. Then...I went to bed. And I slept long and deep, knowing that there was no chance I'd be interrupted and woken up, I didn't have to be, even in sleep, alert to every noise and possibility that I'd be needed.
I'm still exhausted and burned out, but even one night to myself felt really, really nice.
Saying "Tumblr does X" as a universal statement is doomed to failure, but generally speaking, the parenting posts I see on Tumblr, the ones with tens or hundreds of thousands of notes, speak what's apparently widely seen as a truism on here: that unless someone wants to spend 24/7 with their kids, to be 100% emotionally available at all times, is always kind and patient and perfect, they are a bad parent, maybe even abusive. I remember when covid started, there were multiple posts actively mocking the "oh god, my kids are now home all the time, how am I supposed to do this?" attitude that a lot of parents posted in despair. WhY dId YoU hAvE kIdS iF yOu DoN't WaNt To SpEnD tImE wItH tHeM?
Look at what my usual day looks like.
Look at what my day off looked like.
Do you really think I don't want to spend time with my kids? Do you really think I don't love my kids?
But I'm not a fucking MACHINE. I'm a PERSON. That's what people on Tumblr seem to forget. PARENTS ARE PEOPLE. The same tumblrinas who post ~uwu be kind to yourself rest if you need to, you should forgive yourself for that mistake you made~ will turn around, with zero sense of irony, and post "you're a bad parent if you ever raise your voice around a child."
Expecting parents to be perfect means expecting parents to be inhuman. It also means that a parent can't be poor (can't spend all your time being the perfect parent if you have to work multiple jobs or weird hours!), can't be introverted (can't be a perfect parent if you're not completely emotional available, god forbid socializing is exhausting for you), can't be on the ADHD or autism spectrum (what do you mean you forgot to get your kid to a doctor's appointment once? what do you mean over-stimulation can make you angry? how dare you get angry at a kid!), can't be depressed (gotta get out of bed every single day, gotta always be upbeat, patient, happy, or else that's Evil), can't be (like my wife) physically disabled (what do you mean your hands hurt too much to hold a child's hand? are you denying them touch?? CRUEL). And when the only answer you can offer to that is, "if you can't be that perfect you shouldn't be a parent," then you're saying people who aren't middle class to wealthy, people who aren't neurotypical, people who aren't physically able, shouldn't have children.
And honestly...what the fuck is your problem?
I'm not perfect. I tell my kids to just leave me alone sometimes. I raise my voice, especially when one of my kids starts punching the other, but also sometimes just cause I'm exhausted and Can't Anymore. I've forgotten an appointment by accident and felt like a total fucking idiot, and I've skipped an after school activity because I just wasn't up for taking them. I've served them more unbalanced, unhealthy meals than I can count. I've made many, many mistakes, but I've also done my best, and I love my kids, and I hope that when they grow up, they'll still love me even as they recognize that I wasn't perfect, just as I've come to accept my own parents' short-comings while still loving them very much. They're people, too, and the older I get, the more I understand where they were coming from.
When I fuck up, I apologize.
When they tell me they're unhappy with something I've done, I apologize, and I try to do better. Sometimes I even succeed.
This shit is hard, yo. And it's getting harder every year.
I'm BEGGING Tumblr: you need to start seeing parents as people. The way y'all talk about parenting on here is toxic, and genuinely harmful, and frankly exhausting. You have no idea what the reality of raising kids is like, and you need to shut the entire fuck up.
I had a day off yesterday.
I might get one more before the end of 2023.
I already can't wait. I am so, so, so tired. sigh
(if you actually read this whole rant and even a single word of it resonated for you, please reblog it. I'm tired of never seeing positive posts about parenting while I see negative ones with a bajillion notes.)
#unforth rambles#parenting#momblr#nothing prompted this#i just think about writing posts like this all the time#because the low-level background buzz of how much tumblr hates parents is a constant stressor tbh#and every once and a while i tip over the line end up Writing the Thing#and so here we are again#god i have so much to do today and instead i procrastinate with this#oops
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little hurt/comfort snippet for one of my favourite canon couples, for @nolofinweanweek. cw for disordered food habits, past starvation and past enslavement.
Tuor has been smelling the sweet scent of rot for several minutes, and he cannot figure out where it is coming from.
It's nagging at him. He wants Idril to return from the private washroom that adjoins their rooms in Gondolin and join him in bed so they can fall asleep in one another's arms, but the smell is itching at his nose and he doesn't think he'll be able to sleep until he's located the source. And he thinks it'll be good if he can fix the problem before Idril returns. Idril is a princess — a princess who, inexplicably, married him — and she does not deserve to sleep in a bedroom stinking of rot. So he extricates himself from the blankets, smiling at the soft sounds of Idril washing up, and sets out to search the room.
Opening wardrobes and rifling through chests of drawers brings him no closer to the answer -- in fact, the scent seems fainter the further he gets from the bed. So, frowning, he kneels down and ducks his head underneath the bed.
At first, he can't make sense of what he's seeing. His call of "Idril, what --?" slips out almost without realising, but it summons her back to his side almost instantly, wearing only a towel but rabbit-fast on her silver feet.
When she sees what he's looking at, her face drains of all its colour. She sits back, hard, on her heels.
"Tuor --" she says, voice breaking around the word, "I'm so sorry --"
Under the bed is what was probably once an impressive bounty of fruit and vegetables. Piles of grapes, tomatoes, sheaths of corn, red and silver onions lie in various stages of decay, from furred and bruised to liquid and blurring into one another, juices soaking into the carpet.
"I'm so sorry," Idril mumbles again, and then, "please say something."
The thing is, Tuor is aware of Idril's tendency to be a bit funny about food, even if he's never seen it get this bad. Sometimes he wakes at night to an empty bed, and wanders through the empty city to find her pacing the greenhouses, or thumbing through the ledgers in the great kitchens. It makes sense -- for most of her childhood on the Ice, although her father and aunt did their best, she was hungry. It seems that some wounds never quite close, even after hundreds of years.
When Tuor had first discovered the pouches of nuts and wax-wrapped cheese she kept in her dressing table, soon after they'd married, she had laughed self-consciously, saying "you won't starve with me!" -- and then, upon remembering that Tuor had, in fact, starved in the not-distant past, fallen into profuse and completely unnessesary apologies.
So this new development isn't as shocking as it might otherwise be, is the thing. But Idril clearly thinks he's going to be horrified by what he's found -- one hand is pressed over her mouth, and she's crying quietly.
When the Vala of the Oceans isn't speaking through him, Tuor isn't always very good with words. When Lorgan held him, he never spoke to anybody unless he was forced to, and he thinks that at some point he almost forgot how to. But Idril asked him to say something, and he can't sit in silence while his wife is so distressed. So he tucks her into his chest, and strokes a hand over her hair.
"Please don't cry, love. It's alright. I'll get rid of this. It's alright. There's no need to apologise for anything."
"You must be disgusted," she says quietly. "I know this is hardly what you'd expect from Gondolin's princess."
"I could never, ever, be disgusted by you," he says, and means it.
"I don't know what I was even thinking. Grapes and onions... what was I even hoping to do with them? I think there's something really wrong with me."
Tuor just sighs, shakes his head, and holds her tighter. Breathes in the scent of her hair. They sit silently together on the floor beside the bed for -- he doesn't know how long, but his knees eventually begin to ache.
"I do wish you'd told me earlier," he says, "I could have helped, maybe..."
She makes a small noise in response.
"Do you think you could tell me, if you think it's getting bad again in the future? Hiding the food, I mean. I don't know that I'll be able to be any great help, but I promise I'll always listen, and there's nothing you could say that would disgust me, or turn me away from you."
She manages a nod at that. "Alright. I promise I'll try."
He can't really ask for more that. After all, it's not as though he doesn't have memories of his time as Lorgan's captive that he still can't give voice to.
Then Tuor does get rid of the rotten food. Idril shyly points him to places around the room where he finds various other hidden foodstuffs in varying states of freshness, and he throws them out too. He fetches Idril and himself a mug of tea, because if the evening's conversation has left him feeling wrung out and exhausted, then it must be worse for her. And then he puts them both to bed, wrapping himself around her back as though he's trying to make himself into another blanket for her to cloak herself in. Whatever the morning brings, he promises himself that he'll be by Idril's side to face it with her.
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Wendy, I sincerely hope I'm not spamming you. I just had a thought about Sanzu's part of Hand Her Over. How do you think he'd handle his wife getting pregnant by Mikey and knowing it couldn't possibly be his due to the incident where Taiju hit him with his bike? Would he raise the child and idolize it like he does Mikey or would he resent his wife and the child?
Putting myself in her shoes, I would be denying his advances and willingly going to Mikey because I'd see Mikey as a man capable of protecting me from something like that happening again.
As attractive as Haruchiyo is, having him touch me after that would make me feel gross and like I picked a man who couldn't protect me. (Haruchiyo is my absolute favorite by the way and now I'm giving him the side eye. Because his homicidal tendencies are excusable but handing his beloved over to Manjiro Sano is diabolical)
I gotchu on this, and THANK YOU for your request! Yeah, y/n is willingly going to Mikey now, but *what if she did get pregnant????*
Let us explore this together! I'm going to pull some source material from a true crime story I grew up on, so let's just call this some dark content.
Hand Her Over I (Part 9): Sanzu Haruchiyo x Fem!Reader
wc: 1.5k
tw: dark content, I said what I said
masterlist
Hand Her Over Megapost
Sanzu's eyes blur with tears as he looks at the photo.
"Sanzu?" At the sound of your voice, he blinks away his display of despair and forces a smile on his face.
"That's amazing." The tone isn't exactly what he wanted to sound like, but you seem to exhale, nodding happily.
"We should discuss the nursery and everything." Sanzu halts, staring back down at the image of the embryo. "Are you... okay?"
"Fine," Sanzu replies, returning the picture to you and resuming his chipper act. "Just... wow." You take the image and beam at him, holding it close to your chest.
Sanzu watches the baby crip come in first. He's unsure how everything came so fast, but the item is assembled without his help, and then the painters come. It's a never-ending cycle of people coming to refit the house for a child, day in and day out, and yet, Sanzu feels nothing.
He feels nothing when Mikey comes by and examines the room, making sure it was to his liking. Sanzu feels nothing when Mikey seems to brighten at the thought of having a child, his hand resting protectively on your stomach that isn't even showing yet. He feels nothing when you increase the time you spend with Manjiro, taking evening strolls and meandering about in Bed, Bath, and Beyond with him - or his credit card - in tow.
But seeds of resentment and anger fill him as the weeks go on, and you refuse his touch over and over again. Sanzu can't even share a meal with you in the open kitchen anymore; you usually pick up and leave before retreating to the bedroom, or worse, the nursery.
One morning, he wakes up in his cold bed and stares at the ceiling, wondering where he went wrong. Was it the act of handing you over to Mikey that doomed him? Or was it his loyalty - that couldn't even be reciprocated - that set him on the path he's on now?
He isn't sure, but that doesn't stop him from staring at himself in the mirror and walking through his plan one last time.
"Mikey's out on business this week," you announce as he walks into the kitchen, his shirt wrinkled and pants unironed. "But I need to go to the Obstetrician tomorrow."
"And you expect me to take you?" Sanzu wonders, sipping on a glass of water. You look up from your meal, frowning.
"Are you busy?"
"No," Sanzu affirms, shrugging. "I was just asking." Shit. You were expected somewhere tomorrow. Sanzu tosses the water into the sink and runs the tap briefly before setting the cup down. "I'll take you."
One more sleep.
Taking you to the OBGYN isn't new or out of his depth. He can do this. This one last thing would be enough. Then...
Sanzu lets you out at the entrance to the clinic and waits for you in the parking lot. His mind swirls with thoughts as he holds a water bottle in his hands, nearly cracking it with the force of his squeeze. No, he reasons, setting the bottle down and unscrewing the lid. I can't give up now. Not when I'm so close to freedom.
It takes an hour before you call him, standing at the entrance in your black mink coat and mitts. Sanzu pulls up obediently - ever the chauffeur - and helps you inside the car.
"Everything go alright?" Sanzu wonders, smiling at you.
"Almost three months," you sing. It takes everything in Sanzu not to vomit right there. What makes it worse is that you're running down a list of potential baby names when he gets back in the car.
"I think 'Mira' is a great name for a girl," you murmur, finger running down the piece of paper. "What do you think, Sanzu?"
"I think it's great," he lies, gripping the steering wheel tightly. You hum in delight and grab the water bottle in the cup holder, taking a long gulp from it and smacking your lips.
"That's really good," you sigh, then begin to blather on about boys' names. Sanzu grits his teeth. It takes every cell in his body to avoid running the car off the road and into a ditch.
You're halfway home when you begin to nod off. Sanzu looks down at the water bottle and notices it's almost empty, too. He doesn't even make a noise - lest he rouses you from your sleep - and exits off the highway. It isn't long before his destination looms in the distance, and the smell of earth and water meet as one.
The docks are empty, save a single vessel preserved for his use, and Sanzu turns the car off before turning to you. You're still asleep. He exits the vehicle and opens your side of the car, lifting you from the passenger side without too much effort.
The clock is ticking.
The small fishing boat is covered in plastic on the normally uncovered floors, but otherwise - everything looks as if it's been prepped for him properly.
"We're going on a small fishing trip," Sanzu grunts, hefting you into the boat and taking his place next to you. Run the motor. The machine sputters to life and drags away from the shore, bobbing lazily as the sun finds its way home. Sanzu knows in the back of his mind that he has other options, but... he can't feasibly live with any of them. Any of them except this one.
When Sanzu can see nothing but water, he stops the motor and waits. And waits. And waits. Sure, the clock may be ticking, but he has all the time in the world out here. No wonder people love to fish all day.
You awaken from your "nap" with a jolt, shaking the boat and rustling the plastic around you. You grab at the edge, your fingers clawing at the lip of the boat, and you stare at the expanse of water before turning to look at Sanzu with rage.
"What the fuck are we doing out---"
"Shhh, shhh, shh." Sanzu urges you, placing a finger to his lips. "It's nice and quiet out here."
"Are you on meth?" you shout back, your face full of fury. Yes, Sanzu thinks to himself. Feel the rage. Feel the rage I've been at the mercy of.
"I'm definitely not sober," Sanzu laughs, leaning back. His arm rests on the motor. "But that's not why we're here." Your lips twitch, but you don't speak. You know better than that.
"Mikey will kill you when he finds out."
"Good," Sanzu smirks, looking at his fingernails. "All the better for me, the scorned husband." You flinch, a hand reaching toward your belly. "Don't do that." Sanzu snarls, standing up abruptly. The boat rocks back and forth, and you grip the sides again, your chest heaving.
But you don't beg for forgiveness or mercy. You just stare him down with your unwavering eyes. Why aren't you begging or giving him concessions so he can turn the boat around and forget all about this? Why aren't you doing what he wanted?
"That's not my kid."
"I know."
"And you're still having it?"
"Yes!" you reply with fervor, your forehead wrinkling. "I would rather eat rocks than abort it."
"Why?" Sanzu's voice is a mere shadow of what it once was. He's sad, he's lonely, he's broken. Can't you just say you'll abort it and never leave him again?
"Because you did this. You made me into a monster by giving me over to Mikey. This is your penance."
"But you don't love him." Your lips seal together, and finally, you give him a look of submission. "You don't." Sanzu is coaxing you to say that you don't, but you don't reply. "Right?"
"I--"
"You don't!"
"I do."
"No," Sanzu whimpers, tunnel visioning in on everything he's ever lost. "This was not how this was supposed to go; No... No..."
"Sanzu, I love him and want to have this baby." Sanzu can barely hear you over the voices in his head, his past self rolling his eyes, the sight of your baby being born--
He can't take it. He lunges for you.
"You can't--" The boat tips over, and you both scream, hitting the water at the same time. Sanzu's mind blanks, scrambling for some kind of purchase to flip the boat over and rescue... rescue...
Sanzu looks around. Rescue who?
The water in his lungs refuses to evacuate, but he can see the black coat just beyond his reach. Maybe if he could--
The water is clear enough for him to see that there is no saving to be done. You're sinking faster than he can catch you, and even if you weren't... the plastic suffocating you is enough. So he stares.
Sanzu has options.
But he could live with only one of them.
So he resurfaces and tips the boat back over, climbs into the vessel, and tugs on the motor enough times for it to start pitifully.
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Hold My Hand: The Recovery: Part One
Bradley Bradshaw x Wife!Pilot!Reader
Main Masterlist
Hold My Hand Masterlist
A/N: I know I said I was done with this series, but I couldn't resist writing a few small fics about (y/n)'s recovery. This is the first of at least three of these! Enjoy!
Summary: (Y/n) struggles with adjusting to life with her injury, but Bradley is right there to help her.
Warnings: mentions of injury? fluffy fluff?
hen - your callsign
Bradley was awoken by a commotion coming from down the hall. Squinting his eyes, he reached beside him in bed, finding nothing but empty sheets.
"(Y/n)?" he whispered, sitting up in bed and rubbing his face.
Noticing the absence of her crutches and the light streaming under their door, he quickly got up, calling her name again.
"(Y/n), baby?"
The only response he got was another crash from the kitchen. Rushing to the source of the sound, his heart cracked slightly at the sight in front of him. (Y/n) was crying on the kitchen floor, sitting in a puddle of spilled water with her crutches across the room.
He sunk to the floor in front of her, cupping her wet cheeks.
"Sweetheart, are you okay? What happened?"
Taking a shuddering breath, her eyes never left the floor. "I was thirsty, so I tried to get some water, b-but my crutch got caught and I fell."
He searched her for injuries quickly. "But are you okay?"
She nodded slowly, staring at the large cast. "Yeah. My leg just hurts all the time now."
With a soft sigh, he pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry. Next time, wake me up and I'll get it for you."
"I'm so pathetic." she cried, covering her face with her hands. "Just a few days ago, I could fly freaking fighter jets and now I can't even walk into the kitchen without falling!"
Tears stung his eyes as he watched her break down. Gently pulling her hands away from her face, he lifted her chin to look at him. "You are not pathetic. You're hurt, (y/n). You have to give yourself time to recover."
"But I-"
"No," he interrupted, "I'm here to take care of you, so please let me do that."
A sob escaped her lips before she pulled Bradley closer to her, nuzzling her face into his neck. "I'm so lucky to have you, Brad. Thank you for everything."
Bradley subtly wiped the single tear that leaked from his eye. "This is what I meant when I said 'for better or worse' and 'in sickness and health,' sweetheart. I love you, and we're gonna get through this together, okay?"
She nodded, sniffling and pulling back to look at him. She leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together softly. "Can you help me?" she murmured against his lips. Giving her a quick kiss, he stood, gently pulling her up by her underarms. In one motion, he scooped her off her feet, holding her bridal style, careful of the leg. (y/n) quietly giggled as he started walking them towards their bedroom. Glancing behind him, he saw the crutches slung across the room.
"Uhh, (y/n/n), how did your crutches end up over there?"
Without looking up at his curious expression, she scrunched her face in embarrassment. "I threw them when I fell."
Bradley chuckled under his breath, continuing to the bedroom. He sat her on the edge of the bed, grabbing some dry shorts from their dresser. Because of her leg, she was having trouble changing, so Rooster helped her slide into them. He then tucked the comforter around her, making sure her leg was elevated. He leaned down to kiss her temple, a small smile painting his face.
"I'll be right back, babe."
A minute later, he arrived with a cup of water and her crutches in hand. Putting the crutches in their rightful place, he handed her the water, extending his other hand which held some pain medication the doctor prescribed.
"Take this and it'll help the pain."
Gulping it down, she leaned back against her pillow, eyes closing. "You're literally the best husband anyone could ask for," she whispered, her words becoming slightly slurred.
Bradley crawled into bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her stomach, and kissing her shoulder.
"That's the drugs talking." he laughed, voice raspy.
(Y/n) nuzzled into his hold, sleepily muttering, "It hasn't started worki..."
As she trailed off, Bradley knew she had started to doze.
"There it goes." he paused, looking down at her sleeping figure. "I love you, Hen."
Tag List:
@calicoevening72 @ellieparker @misconceptionmistress @93joons @levylovegood @azari-anna @samthasworld @padf00ts-l0ver @thefuturewillbeprosperous @hockeyboysarehot @fangirlinc @littlewhiterose @annluca @pcotato @lundqvistisgod @theemeraldbutterfly @winteryoungie @curlyolly @ynbutbetter @n3ssm0nique @princessnnylzays @marchingicenotes7 @sarcastic-sourwolf @caitlyn221b @fogle97 @krmy2386 @storyteller-le @imagines-army @thatwh-0-re @calicoevening72 @americaarse @alexwinchester23 @juniebugg @luckyladycreator2 @shaunaelliott08 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @cassbntp @multifandom-loser @itsmebellaas @johnnycobra84 @pepelachanel @sbrewer21 @altheadarling @pumpkin-sage @craziblondi @lovemesomevesey @peaches-1999 @im-your-possession @chaoticassidy @dilfsandtherapy @callsign-milano
#rooster#rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#mads' fandoms#rooster bradshaw#rooster x reader#top gun maverick#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x y/n#rooster bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x wife!reader#bradley bradshaw x pilot!reader#bradley bradshaw fluff#bradley bradshaw angst#bradley bradshaw x reader hurt#mads' blurbs#mads' writing mania#tg2#tg2 spoilers#hurt/comfort#rooster and hen#miles teller#top gun#top gun 2#great balls of fire
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Wakey wakey!
Rise and shine, for you have shit to do! Hey, figured I'd give you a heads up because you're asleep and your boss is about to walk in and wake you up- see there the rogue goes-
The Riddler: WHACK! You're awoken rather rudely to a immense pain in your lower back. The sound of the source as all to familiar. "Did you just hit me with your cane?" You groaned, your hand moving to press against the ache in your back. "Wake up! I don't pay you to sleep!" The Riddler declared loudly. "We're waiting for you!" "I'm calling in sick, I think my kidneys have shut down and my spine snapped." You groaned. "Don't be a baby! Up! Don't make me pull the covers off you! You don't want your boss to see you with next to none or no clothes at all do you!? I don't know how you sleep, do you really want me to find out?" "I'm up! I'm up!" You groaned. "You don't look it." The Riddler said blankly. "Jus' give me five minutes." You groaned. WHACK! "OW!" You screeched. "See I'll let you whine about that one because that one was supposed to hurt." The Riddler said flatly.
Scarecrow: It was so peaceful in your room. Too peaceful even. He leaned against your bedroom door frame momentarily before moving to your bedside. Jonathan leaned close to your face. "(Y/N)." He said flatly. You stirred slightly before you could simply fall back asleep, Jonathan blew on your face. You jolted awake. You squealed and rolled away from him. "Oh good, you're awake." He said either a fake smile. "I was wondering when you'd grace us with your presence." "What's going on!?" You asked dumbfounded. "Well," Jonathan began. "It's Monday. I expected you along with everyone else at the warehouse at eight thirty and I saw everyone but you. Rumour has it that you and Monday's don't mix but guess what? I don't care. Now get out of bed, it's ten thirty!" He gave you a stern look. "Who sleeps in to this time!? Imbeciles, (Y/N)! Imbeciles! Do you want to be an imbecile!?" Jonathan tugged at the covers and you yelped. "Wait! What if I'm naked under here!?" You screeched. "Judging by the straps of your shirt? I'd say you're not." Jonathan gave you a quizzical look. "As if you have anything I haven't seen before! Get over yourself and get up!"
Two-Face: He stood over you for a second. "How cute..." Harv' muttered. He grabbed one of your pillows. After a moment, he swung. The moment you cracked your eyes open, you squeezed them shut. You were being hit in the head over and over again by something soft. "Rise and shine!" You recognised that voice. "B-Boss?" You asked as the blows stopped. "Oh good, you're awake." Harvey said nonchalantly. "I was hoping you'd wake up some time." You finally looked up at him to see him toss your pillow back on your bed. "What time is it?" You asked rubbing your eyes. "Seven thirty." He replied. "In the morning!?" You exclaimed. You hadn't gotten home from the job until three last night. Now he was in your room? "Yes, now we need you on this job. Somethings came up unexpectedly. I want you on this." Harvey explained. You groaned into your pillows. "This is why your wife left you. This is cruel." Yku grumbled. "Apparently I'm not cruel enough since I'm letting that remark slide." Harvey retorted. "Hey, you beat me with a pillow. I think it's called for." You grumbled. "It's only fair." He smirked before it vanished and he shook his head. "I'm too nice to you. Hurry up, we're on a time crunch!"
Black Mask: The moment he saw you wrapped up in bed, he huffed. Without a word, he crawled onto the bed beside you. His eyes stayed on your sleeping face as he lay down. He smoothed back a stray hair. You stirred. Your eyes opened groggily and you jumped slightly at the sight of two icy eyes scowling at you behind the black skull shaped mask. "Get the fuck up." He ground out. "What's going on?" You grumbled out. "You have three seconds to get up before I push you out of this bed." Roman deadpanned. He didn't wait three seconds. Before you could question him further, he had pushed you. You yelped as you fell out of the bed. "You can get up and get your shit together or I can do it for you but neither of us will be happy." Roman warned.
Victor Zsasz: He was sure to be careful not to fall over but not to disturb you too much. He stood over you, your legs between his. You stirred a little. He stilled and so did you. He grinned. Suddenly he began to jump. "Yoohoo! Wakey wakey!" Victor whistled. "What the hell!?" You shrieked. "Victor!? Stop!?" You screeched. He grinned and stopped, bending at the middle. "We've got work to do." He grinned. He jumped off your bed but he was far from done. He grabbed your arm and tugged, trying to pull you out of the bed. "I'm up! I'm up! Just- stop!" You yelped.
Mad Hatter: You felt a heavy weight on you. Sitting on your midsection. You groggily opened your eyes before inhaling sharply. Jervis, your boss, as sitting on top of you. He grinned and wiggled his fingers in a wave. "Hi!" "J-Wh-Wha-!?" You couldn't find the words to speak. "You weren't up yet when I got here. I thought my instructions to be clear!" He rhymed. "Stop that." You said quickly. "Stop what?" He tilted his head. "That... the word play thing." You replied quickly. Jervis leaned down slightly, something around your neck catching his eyes. He reached for it and you quickly slapped his hand away. He gasped, offence running across his facial features. He slapped your hands back. You gasped and slapped him back. So it began as the two of batted each other's hands away like cats. He batted your own hands away shrinking into himself and leaning away from you. "Stop hitting me!" "Why are you sitting on me!?" You shot back. "Why not!?" He countered. "Because I didn't say you could and I'm also not a chair!" You snapped. Jervis tilted his head. "You'd be a very comfy and warm chair." He muttered to himself.
#batman#batman villains#batman scenarios#the riddler#scarecrow#two face#black mask#mad hatter#victor zsasz#edward nygma#jonathan crane#harvey dent#roman sionis#jervis tetch
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Breaking down the comics: Sun in eyes
BONUS COMIC REVIEW:
Issue 17 mini comic: Marc Spector - The Worship of False Idols
You guys. You guys have no idea. This is it. This is the reason I fell utterly in love with Moon Knight. I'm so excited.
When I found Moon Knight (I'll get to that discovery in a later review) I just had to know who he was. I stayed up all night downloading and reading everything.
When I got to this piece it must have been 3am and this is what made me obsessed.
What's hilarious is that this mini comic comes at the end of a really dramatic Marc Spector heavy issue in which he's dark and angsty and violent.
And then...You get this. This delightful idiot man that's just doing his best.
Let's get into it!
I wonder if this image of Marc might be what inspired Doctor Grant from the show.
We open with Marc holding a machete and making his way through a jungle in South America.
Narration: Long before there was a Moon Knight, there was Marc Spector. Though he wore but a single name, he operated under many guises... Soldier of fortune, treasure seeker, courier, mercenary, were a few of those guises.
He was a man whom Moon Knight can now look back on with only slender pride - A strong man, yes, and thoroughly determined, but often a ruthless man, one who braved danger only for money. This is one of his stories."
Such lovely narration. Painting a picture of a gruff killer for hire out for a buck and not afraid to get dirty for it.
We see him hacking his way through a jungle and complaining the whole time.
"Must've hacked my way through thirty miles of this green hell..."
He had previously met with a drunken archeologist (probably at a bar) who told him about a beautiful ugly idol made of solid gold.
He finds a clearing and there sits the idol
He doesn't find this suspicious at all.
There's going to be a lot of screenshots in this review.
(flat in the dirt again.)
The dog apparently belongs to an archeologist nearby. His wife comes out of the tent, remarking that he's probably out drinking again. (Marc's info source).
She looks around and notices the Idol is missing. She shrugs and goes back to the tent.
She has a busy day tomorrow if she's to keep looking for a big discovery that she thinks is very near.
Marc wakes in a dark underground cavern.
Now we get to watch this poor man try to think this through.
"But I can't carry any more than I've already got.
Maybe I should substitute-take something else-something better...
No-The archaeologist in the bar said this idol is the choice one--the one that'll command the highest price from collectors and museums--worth far more than its weight in gold.
But if I leave now, I'll never find this place again. Not before those archaeologists do--and by then they'll have armed guards swarming this place...
Got to decide now-cuz I won't be able to change my mind later..."
Marc decides to keep the one he already has.
He follows a draft and finds himself in a bat cave with Guano up to his calves.
Oh Marc…Oh no…
Oh no.
Oh no
Marc no…
Marc no…stop…
Buddy…pal….Beloved hero of my heart…
I mean…He saves them. Marc isn’t as heartless as he thinks he is. Just cause he’s having a bad day doesn’t mean they have to have one too.
And now… I give you my hero. The light of my life. My obsession. My sweet cheese. My good time boy.
Damn Marc, that’s a nice leg.
Marc makes it back to the town.
He staggers towards where he's staying, looking forwards to a week in bed and then cashing in his idol for the sweet sweet dough (get that bread Marc).
Suddenly, his thoughts of rest are interrupted by someone shouting "Three Dollars American!"
He looks over to see the archeologist and his wife talking.
She admonishes him for taking so long to get back to the newly discovered temple....then asks him why he keeps guying the cheap plaster idols.
Marc looks over to a stand with a man selling "Genuine Inca idols straight from the temple of the sun!"
This is Marc Spector everyone. Mercenary dark and tormented and angry and violent killing machine Marc Spector.
The man that can’t forgive himself and that no one loves easily. A man that is hated and feared.
I don’t read Moon Knight for the dark action. I read Moon Knight for moments like this.
This is what made me fall in love. Not the white cape, the mental health, the DID, the religiously tortured soul, the hero that needs saving…
This man that is having the worst time and still he stumbles into the sunset because DAMN IT he worked hard to get there and he’s going to get something out of it… But at the end of the day, he’s no further along than the rest of us.
He probably had a drink and went to bed after this. Maybe laughing to himself. Maybe laughing about all the close calls. Maybe crying a little.
But he didn’t go back to rob the excavation site. He said “Not today. Not this time.” and went on with his life.
And he told no one of this, because he’s Marc fucking Spector and he has a reputation.
So I leave you with this. The best image of Marc Spector I’ve ever seen. The true meaning and mood of Moon Knight I’ve ever seen.
This pretty much just sums up his life:
(And somewhere, Khonshu looked at this mess and said “That’s the one. That’s the one for me. My son!”)
#Moon Knight#Moon Knight comics#analyzing the comics#Marc Spector#Khonshu took one look and said 'bless this mess'#Look at him#My sweet boy#I love him so much#No one tell Tigra#Frenchie looked at this man and swore to follow him to the ends of the earth#If only Jake and Steven knew
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You're going to lie to the police? I'll go along with it I guess.
So I got into a car accident a few days ago. It was minor but mostly my fault. I was doing a k turn out of a residential driveway on a busy street and while backing up, hit a car that was speeding to get past. No airbags were deployed and both cars were completely drivable. This accident happened about 4:45.
In the car was a middle aged father and mother with a toddler in a carseat in the back next to the door that was hit. This family does not speak English.
The father got out of the car and did the immediate "look at my damage" woahs that come with an accident. He tells me there's a baby in the back and shows me the still sleeping child. His wife immediately gets on the phone with who I believe is the police. We pull into a parking lot to get off the busy road and wait. About 20 minutes later I grabbed their hubcap out of the road and handed it to the gentleman and he opened the back door again and showed me the sleeping baby.
It's now about 5:40 and the couple's niece and her bf show up. They immediate demand money to fix the car and I told them we'll go through insurance. She asks several times if I REALLY want to go that way and I told her there was no way I had the money to fix both cars, so insurance it is. SHE proceeds to call the police at that point. The aunt was on the phone with her and not the police?! Ugh fine I'll wait even longer for the police to come then.
Around 615 the toddler finally wakes up and starts crying. It's now been asleep for at least an hour and a half and most likely is hungry. At 630 the cops show up and ask the niece if the baby needs paramedics, and the niece (who didn't show up up until almost an hour after the initial collision) starts to lie to the police about how the baby has been crying since the accident and to send them.
I've been in a few accidents over my years as a driver and now I'm starting to smell what this really is, insurance scam. I look through my dash cam and was able to prove they sped through a red light right before the driveway where I turned from. When the cop came to ask me what happened I told him my side of the events and showed the dash cam proving the light was red in the direction they claimed to be coming from.
For good measure I told the police that the baby only started crying about 15 minutes prior to when they got there. The niece started screaming that I was lying. I then told the police officer "If what she says is true then I'd like to make a claim against them for child endangerment. They claim that baby was crying for the last 2 hours from the accident and never once did they call 911 for medical assistance. They called their niece to come here instead of emergency services and only asked for them AFTER they were offered. The car seat also isn't center mounted like required by state law and should be cited."
At that point the niece is calling me every name in the book like she just found I cheated on her from Jerry Springer. I then calmly tell the officer that my dashcam was running the entire time we were stopped and have it on record when the child woke up. The officer looked at her and said "ma'am it's a crime to lie on a police report, was the baby crying since the accident?" All of a sudden she now "had to check with her aunt and uncle to find out."
She withdrew her claim and the officer tossed out her "witness statement" because she wasn't an actual witness to anything. Hopefully no bullshit lawsuit comes from it!
Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge
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Sew Long, Fair Well - 01 SANSA (pages 01)
Sansa makes a final sacrifice for her people, and wakes to discover she's made a deal with a god.
-
The years of war, and the sheer number of their combined forces, the sheer appetite of the dragons, everything had put too large an impact in their reserves. Her people were going to starve before the new crops could be grown to harvest, before the animals could breed and mature enough for culling, the glass gardens were still in ruins, and winter still upon them. Spring hadn't magically come sweeping in when Arya had slain the Night King, the Long Night hadn't mystically given way to the spring dawn.
That's actually something I'll be interested to see when we reach it in the books, how the resource situation is, because with the wars, and The War, resources are going to be so low, I have concerns about the post Long Night survival rates.
“Please,” she asked, “if you know of any way to save my people, please tell me how, please help me save my people.”
“What are you willing to give up for them?”
It was a test, Sansa knew, and thought of rough hands on her skin, thought of all she has lost, and all she had fought for with whatever she could. With words and looks, and favours and lies, with the blood of others and with her own.
“The last thing I have left to barter with,” Sansa told him, hoping it was enough, “the last thing I have which is rightly mine to give away.”
“That's-Not-Bran” Theory at play here. I do kinda like that one, just for the fridge horror aspect of it.
I also like the “rightly mine to give” mentality when characters deal with eldritch/ancient beings, cause you could give them anything, including the life of another, a thousand other lives, but where's the personal sacrifice in that. (Also it makes you look like an asshole.)
This one showing us just where Sansa's priorities lie, it's not just about the building, it's about the people in it
“Down through the crypts, until the tunnel turns into a cave. Down through the cave to the heart of the hot springs, where the waters of Winterfell are born. Until there's nothing left to give.”
You know, I have now read two fics with Sansa Time Travel that feature the hot springs in the tunnels under Winterfell as the medium for said time travel. Two different types of time travel, mind you, but I see any more and it will officially be a pattern.
In her mind, she could see a golden light flowing through Winterfell, spilling out into the surrounding lands. It was like watching a flower slowly blooming. Sansa vaguely felt herself slip completely below the surface of the hot spring, but she didn't care, didn't fight it. She wasn't sure if she was dreaming, or if she was truly witnessing a miracle, but these were her last moments, and Sansa chose hope.
This would have been such a tough ask though, after everything Sansa survived, after everything that didn't kill her, after everything lost and regained, for her to have this presented as the saving move, when she can't even trust the source it came from, like, not really. For all she knows, That's-not-Bran just wants her out of the way so he can take over.
Anyway, the world is much nicer when people choose hope. (Nicer still when hope pays off.)
Sansa?
Yes, that was right, she was Sansa Stark of Winterfell
And she was dead.
Were the dead allowed to play games?
“I won't tell if you don't.”
ngl, that made me laugh.
Fun? That sounded nice. Sansa missed nice things,
like lemon cakes, and her family, and practising her sewing.
It had been so long since she'd last embroidered anything...
No, that wasn't right, there had been a wolf... for Jon .
🍋=🥛
She was a child.
She was a woman grown.
She'd never left Winterfell.
She'd been to King's Landing and the Eyrie, she'd even visited The Wall.
She was in love with the idea of love, and couldn't wait to be a wife and mother.
She was jaded, married twice, and revolted by the idea of sharing any man's bed.
She was Sansa Stark of Winterfell.
She was Sansa Stark of Winterfell.
A summer child.
She'd seen the Long Night.
She'd died for her people and now she was either in heaven, or she'd had a second wish granted.
She was home, and safe, and she had a chance to fix everything.
I feel like I don't see it enough in fanfics, but I do enjoy the use of formatting as a storytelling aid. Like this section, how the two versions of Sansa are put on opposite sides, and then the center alignment to show that the two versions were separate have melded into one being. (tumblr doesn't like left center right alignments, so I've indented the right aligns.)
People format their fics in different ways and some of them are good, and some of them are one paragraph of 8,000 words. This fic has a lot of 1-2 sentence paragraphs. I know one author, different fandom, and I love their premises, but my gosh, there's an epidemic of people who have never heard of “new speaker, new line,” and they are one of them.
GRRM doesn't always start a new paragraph whenever someone new starts talking, and sometimes he'll let someone start talking at the end of a paragraph, but he never really has two or more people speaking in the same paragraph, where readers get confused because you start reading the second voice assuming it's the first. Sometimes he has the speech tag before the spoken line, instead of after, he actually does a really good job of keeping an easy to read flow with conversations and he has a good balance with the speech tags themselves.
...Sansa just accidentally Blood Magicked the mystery Embroidery Hoop. In her defense, as someone who has dabbled with embroidery, can confirm: those needles are freaking sharp. Fiber arts are hardcore, I have such mad respect for anyone who can do them.
The Hoop was on the ground before her. Sansa looked back at her table, where the hoop was not. She picked it up again, and put it back on the table. She turned to dress, and the hoop was back on the ground before her. Huffing, Sansa picked it up again.
This time when she put it on her table she said, partly pleading, “at least let me get dressed before I deal with you.”
She stepped back, eyes on the hoop. It stayed where it was.
…
In all honesty, if Sansa hadn't been through what she'd just been through, she would have been freaking out over the hoop far more.
Good of her to acknowledge that she's either having a mild disassociation, or has been struck by the blasé attitude stick a few too many times. Look, don't get me wrong, “nothing can phase me” is a fine personality type for a girl to have, but when all the only -female-characters have it, it starts to grate. Like how “snarky, sarcastic, he'd be an asshole if he weren't so cute, clever, and charismatic” became default male protagonist personality for a while th- … actually I think they're still doing that one.
...../ HELP \
.../ I've made a deal with \
/an Ancient God, and now I \
| don't know what to do! |
.\ (Slide finger from right to /
...\ left to turn to next /
.....\ page) /
'Oh,' Sansa thought, feeling a little faint, 'so that was real.'
Apparently. Don't worry, I hate when that happens to me too. (Also I shudder to think how long it took to do the console format every time.)
-
So I actually had the message box open and was going to fire off a message to see if @redwolf17 would be cool if I did The Weirwood Queen for this, but then I thought “if my review curse* triggers, I will be devastated, everyone will be devastated!” So I picked one that's been on permanent hiatus for... three and half years? Oh wow, I didn't think it had been that long. Time is an illusion.
Anyway, I have author permission, and I'm even allowed to be as mean as I want. Oh, the evil that could unleash >:3c (I've fiddled with the formatting slightly, just because the layout in the og is very... laid out.) This fic is also more GoT than ASoIaF, sorry, but I poorly worded the fic option in the poll and no one gave me recs.
*I have this unfortunate curse where if I review a fic that's still in progress, something happens and the author drops the fic like 86% of the time. It's not because I'm mean or anything, I don't go for the writing jugular, it just. happens.
Happy April Everyone!!!
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What if they didnt fight cary and convinced him to return for saw 3... Then, would the scenario "jigsaw kidnaps larrys family" become real? Then, then, would it be more awesome than his coming back in saw 3d? I guess the answers yes. I'll forever hate Larry's treachery.
if it went according to plan, allison is kidnapped again and lawrence takes the role of lynn where he cares for john (iirc). either way, yeah theyre involved again. not sure abt diana tho?
okay so, sorry to be That Guy. but lawrence as an apprentice makes the most sense for his character and the saw universe and im going to use this random ask to voice my opinion so thank you for using my ask box as a saw google lol
A LOT more under the cut
i DO with we got to see that version because it would mean more lawrence screentime and i genuinely do not dislike any saw content. idc how shitty saw x is, it could undo everything and shit all over it but i would NOT care. any content means an avenue to explore saw further
thats one of the main reasons the apprentice reveal was so good, in my opinion. before i get to why its great for lawrence, i want to point out why it works SO well for the other aspects. amanda is johns pseudo-daughter, he LOVED her like a father. we see it at the end of saw iii. no matter what he says, john does not forgive people. he punishes jill for losing their child but at the end of iii, we see him genuinely look at amanda with love and forgiveness. and yet? he never trusted her enough to tell her about lawrence. this random fucking guy who didnt even WIN, is the golden child. trusted with his wife!
as for mark, he is the definition of jigsaws philosophy. he may have jostled his victims around but he had the strongest will to live out of anyone and never relished in hurting them (crying after kidnapping paul + killing seth). another reason i like 3D is that he cant even look at jills corpse. his "game over" wasnt victorious. not like johns always is. YET he is not trusted. hes been there since before amanda, followed his rules, lived his philosophy and he was shafted again. i think the reveal does a lot of good for the apprentice-john dynamic for everyone involved.
secondly, JOHNS TESTS DONT WORK. CANONICALLY. they do not!! amanda says it herself. jigsaw traps make people worse, and not just bc thats a logical response to trauma. working for john amplifies everyones worst traits. amanda became a killer, mark grew to find some sort of enjoyment in killing (at the very least, it made him dependent on it for power and a sense of identity after the loss of his sister)
lawrences test was designed to show him what john said he was missing: empathy. he has none! he lies and doesnt care, he cant understand other peoples points of view, and he prioritizes his own whims and wants over everyone. CONSISTENTLY. so what happens when his tests presents him with the very definition of his heart and moral core, then asks him to kill him? he gets fucking worse!
lawrence is a narcissist. as in the personality disorder. he has low empathy (this is canonically the reason for his test!! not just "he cheated" or "he ignored john", he does these things for that reason) and god. just look at the symptoms, its like they made every scene an example of them on purpose. the idea that his game would be a wake up call and cause him to reflect and adjust his behaviors is just insane to me! within the canon logic of the story, and when taking into account his clear personality disorder... its the most logical choice (source: i have it and also i have eyes. SIDE SIDE note, my real source is that hes a clear parallel to john and john was evaluated for NPD in his psychiatric files in the saw game. so theres that) i think this has a lot to do with people not understanding low empathy. they cant understand why he would betray adam and join jigsaw
trauma wont change that overnight. getting fixed by john for 2 years without seeing the sun certainly wont help either
lawrence as an apprentice is the most logical progression of his character. he does what he wants and what he has to, at the expense of others. hes isolated from his wife and child. he cant understand other peoples prespective. he has an issue with guilt or feeling empathy for people, including those suffering like john. this wont change bc he experienced his first shred of empathy after MURDERING someone he got to know for 6 hours. low empathy =/= no empathy. thats like saying dude bros who do shrooms and experience empathy for the first time in their life are changed people. they arent lol
also the contrast between his game over vs marks 5 minutes earlier is SO important for their characters. theres so much good shit in that movie. take out the corny lines and jill mistreatment, and u have a lot to work with! so yes i do think that itd be more awesome. i love saw 3D and what it did for his character. im not sure how saw iii hostage lawrence wouldve expanded on his character, but id rather go with saw 3D bc im confident they didnt butcher his character. im glad that a beloved protagonist is a complete narc, and hes still beloved! im never giving that up
#apologies if this sounded rude or targeted? ive been looking for an excuse to voice this#i hope this makes sense. i didnt want to elaborate TOO hard on npd lawrence bc its already so long#but it genuinely informs soooo much of his character#i mean#ffs#tapp has to sit there and tell him#CRIME IS IN UR NEIGHBORHOOD. WELL OFF DOCTORS AND DENTISTS ARE NOT ABOUT IT. UR NOT ABOVE IT#THE SEWER LINES RUN UNDER THIS NEIGHBORHOOD TOO!!! NO MATTER HOW CLEAN U LOOK#THERES ALWAYS POTENTIAL FOR DIRT UNDER THE SURFACE#anyways#sorry this is all over the place im high as shit and just ranted off the top of my head#im sure ill make a real post abt npd lawrence + saw 3D + npd mark another time#larry.txt
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𝐵𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝐹𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 - 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐼𝐼𝐼
"Wow noona," Jungkook said, "What does it say?"
"I don't know yet Kookie," I laughed.
"When will you know?" He asked munching on snacks.
"Soon." I smiled.
Jungkook was my cousin. He's still in school and was very interested in archaeology. And since I was his only source of inspiration, he'd always call me to ask about my newly gained knowledge and information. I had returned to the centre with the pictures and information we had collected. I was now in a video call with Jungkook and talking to him about the pyramid.
"Cool," he said licking his fingers, "call me when you've found out and tell me."
"Okay, Kookie," I smiled and hung up.
I sigh and fall back onto the couch. Tomorrow we would be attempting our first time at decrypted the inscriptions on the pyramid wall. I was nervous again. I had no idea why but I always seemed to be nervous when I thought about that pyramid. God, why did you find out about it?
●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○
I was now in the computer lab at the centre with my team with several layers of books, papers and files sprawled across the table. I was watching Namjoon carefully zooming into the picturing and noting down whatever he noticed. Jin was reading through a file and Hoseok was talking to a bunch of other archaeologists and drawing something trying to figure out what could be the tunnel system inside the pyramid according to their scanned images of the structure of the pyramid.
And me...
I was sitting there nervously biting my lips being useless.
I sigh in frustration.
"Namjoon, let me help you," I say.
"Fine," Namjoon agrees, "Note down what I say or show."
I try to work diligently along with Namjoon.
But I ended up being shooed away because I was messing up. I gave up and just sat on the couch in the room with my eyes closed. My legs were jumping up and down and my lip was almost on the verge of bleeding.
"Don't bite them, dear," he said, "you're making me want to do the same."
I chuckled, "Stop being so cheesy."
"Never," I'll be everything for you he thought, "I will never stop showering you with my cheesy comments if I can see you blush and be happy."
"Gosh," I looked away from him blushing, "I can't anymore. Bye."
Taehyung chuckled as he saw me turn around and hide my face.
"No, dear. Don't hide your face from me. You're beautiful. I love you so much."
"But Tae..." I started shyly.
"What my dear?" He encouraged.
"I," I try to form the words, "I feel useless."
"What!" He almost screamed, "Useless? How are you useless?"
"I don't know..." I sigh, "you always bring me to places, buy me gifts and do so much for me... but I... I am unable to do anything for you."
"No," Taehyung started, "my dear, you are not useless. How can you be useless when you're the only thing that makes me feel alive and makes me want to tackle another day? I wake up every day for you. Don't say that."
With that, he pulls me into a hug and kisses my hair.
"I love you," I mumble.
"I love you too."
"YUNA!"
"WHAT!? WHAT!?" I scream.
"We're working our asses off here and you're SLEEPING?" Jin screams.
"Oh god, I'm sorry. How long was I asleep?" I ask rubbing my eyes.
"As long as we took to decrypt," Jin said, his face evident with anger rising.
"You guys decrypted without me?" I ask.
"Yeah, because you were sleeping like a log." Jin hmphs.
"I am so sorry, Jin," I said sighing. I didn't know what was going on.
"Save your sorries," Jin spat, "come take a look at what we decrypted."
Sighing and ruffling my hair, I get up and go towards the table.
I take a look at the paper Jin handed me.
"Here lies the lover of she,
Waiting for her return,
No one shall disturb thy soul
Waiting for an innocent cause,
Those disturbing shall coil in trouble
For disturbing thy innocent soul
He shall awaken, with her return."
I scoff, "Sounds like a person who was lovesick and was unable to protect his own wife and child."
"What?" I get a questioning look from Namjoon.
I cover my mouth. How did you know that?
"I," I tried to reason, "just guessed."
"Well," Hoseok says, "she sounds part right. 'Here lies the lover of she'. So lovesick that he wanted to be addressed as 'her' lover."
"He shall awaken with her return," Jin scoffed, "Looks like she never returned."
The room broke into laughter after hearing Jin.
"Alright everyone," Jin claps his hands, "that's enough for today. Let's go and enjoy our discovery."
Everyone claps, gather their stuff and leaves... leaving Namjoon and me behind.
I keep staring at the piece of paper repeating the things written on it in my head.
"Yuna?" Namjoon asks.
I hum in response.
"You alright?"
"Yeah of course," I reply peeling my eyes away from it and gathering my things, "Let's go, Namjoon."
●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○
Everyone was in the cafeteria to celebrate once before all this data was turned into a project report and sent away to the seniors for analysation. They were drinking, ordering food, etc. But I was definitely not in the mood. I just bought a plate of food and sat at a table looking at everyone enjoy.
Meanwhile, in the pyramid,
"Dear,"
"W-what?" I stuttered.
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❌👀
(for this)
❌ What's a trope you will never write?
HM. That's a... surprisingly tough one to answer. I don't really have a lot of absolute opinions on what I will and won't write. I suppose "major character death"? In fanfiction specifically, and specifically with characters who don't die in the source material. Like, I will not inflict death (or at least perma death) on a character who gets to live in canon, y'know? And I don't really read it either, lol, guess I just want everyone to live.
(oh shit, is the horse a major character? 👀💦 that was on you tho, so i will take no responsibility)
Hmm, is there something else? I mean, there's a lot of things I am not particularly interested in writing, but I'm not gonna say I will never write them. If it makes for an interesting story, it'll make for an interesting story.
👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!
Buddy, pal, friendo, wife... which one? (also real subtle asking me about my wips when all my wips are our wips lol)
Ok well. A work in progress specifically? How about the Amnesia AU? Which is in retrospect a really funny working title bc the amnesia part is like fully canon lmao.
Anyway, it's a Great Ace Attorney fic (uh, spoiler warning for tgaa I guess?), and the premise is this:
Bif Strogenov knows how to check a man's pulse before declaring him dead.
Basically, instead of framing Ryunosuke for Kazuma's murder, Bif takes him to the sickbay immediately and Sholmes's little "faking Kazuma's death" scheme falls through. Except! It actually doesn't, because he ropes Ryunosuke and Susato and Kazuma into it. He's just like "Mr Asogi's life might be in danger!" and Ryunosuke is immediately ready to do whatever.
Kazuma still has amnesia when he wakes up so he can't fill them in on what the business with the telegram is or what his mission in London is, but at least now he's not all alone :)
The beginning of the story follows the games somewhat, except everything happens a lot faster bc this is also called the "open communication au" so Sholmes isn't all mysterious about the Baskerville stuff and they call Barok in to tell his side of what happened 10 years ago, which he surprises everyone by divulging with minimal harrassment (lol)
There's also a lot of feelings and pining and indecently dressed prosecutors and some ~explicit content~
But there's also a lot of jokes and funny moments and Kazuma being forced to witness (and participate in) Sholmes's Dance of Deduction lol anyway it will be a ride once we're finished writing and start uploading it :)
I'll leave it at that for now, I think. Feel free to send me more asks~
#own post#fanfiction#writing stuff#sorry if this shouldn't be in the tag#but i write a lot of tgaa stuff so check it out maybe?#fandom life#answered#miko blogs omg#talk to me#god tumblr was being such a bitch as i tried to anwer this i hope it works now#the great ace attorney
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Goth Household: Chapter 7, Part 2
Bella and Mortimer attend the romance festival, spring turns to summer, and the Yorks and Pancakes are invited over for BBQ day. Bella and Mortimer are in a rocky place but at least toddler Milton is adorable.
Bella: I love the romance festival
Mortimer: Are you suggesting I don't
Bella: What? No I just meant-
Mortimer: You wanted to come so we're here. And there's the paparazzi
Bella: Ignore them
Mortimer: You don't understand, they're vultures
Bella: Can't we just have a nice date
Mortimer: Ask them
Bella: Nigiri please Kyle
Kyle: *whimpers*
Bella: Thank you
Luna that had better be a non alcoholic drink Mrs third trimester!
Guru: Do you seek an answer to your love problem? Let me solve it
Bella: Are you talking to me
Guru: I'm talking to everyone, it's the role of romance guru. Are you in love?
Bella: Shouldn't you know
Guru: Forgive me, I didn't know of your pain
Bella: My pain
Guru: Your husband is the one posing for pictures
Bella: That's him
Guru: The strain is clear
Bella: Really
Guru: I sense you are a mother, think of your children
Bella: Well that's less than helpful *stabs food*
Mortimer is busy greeting fans when he sees a familiar paparazzi signalling him. Mortimer pulls her aside.
Mortimer: What do you want
Alex: A reliable source told us you cheated on your wife, care to comment
Mortimer: What? No I do not care to comment on such a ridiculous accusation
Alex: You sure
Mortimer: If I see one whisper of this-
Alex: You'll what, have me fired, sounds like a comment
Mortimer: How's this for comment
Before Alex can react Mortimer furiously launches himself at her. Their scuffle draws the attention of the whole karaoke bar. Mortimer won but Alex won't forget this soon.
Bella: Home sweet home
Mortimer: Ducking paparazzi
Bella: Calm down. What was so bad you had to attack her
Mortimer: Doesn't matter, it was a lie
Bella: You attacked her over a lie she made up
Mortimer: It's fine, she can't prove anything
Bella: I'm confused
Mortimer: Can't be a new sensation for you
Bella: Don't talk to me like that
Mortimer: If the shoe fits
Bella: Excuse me
Mortimer: Did I use words that were too big honey
Bella: I wanted a nice festival date
Mortimer: So sorry someone attacking my reputation interfered with your plan
Bella: My plan
Mortimer: To seduce me
Bella: As if
While Mortimer storms upstairs Bella checks in with her colleague Bjorn
Bella: Is there an emergency
Bjorn: I was on festival surveillance tonight
Bella: Oh
Bjorn: You doing okay
Bella: Not really
Bjorn: Say the word, the agency can make him disappear
Bella: I'll be fine, thanks for stopping by
Bella: What are you doing up?
Milton: I dance
Bella: So I can see but it's past your bedtime
Milton: Snuggles!
Bella: Okay now bed
Milton: No bedtime, dessert
Bella sets him in his high chair and gets dessert
Milton: Mummy festival fun
Bella: Oh, yes, mummy had fun
Milton: Then why mummy look sad
Bella: Just grown up stuff
Milton: Daycare Silas say when mummy sad sing
Bella: Really
Milton launches into twinkle twinkle little star but it doesn't cheer Bella up today. After dessert is finished she gets him tucked in and reads to him from the dinosaur book until he falls asleep.
The first day of summer and Bella wakes up guilty. She had an intimate dream starring a dark haired sim who was not her husband. She trudges through her morning routine. Eventually the need to improve her logic skill draws her out to the telescope. You never know what she might see.
Bella: Hi sunshine
Milton: Mummy diaper stinky
Bella: Did you not make it to the potty
Milton: *frowns*
Bella: It's okay How bout a nice bubble bath
Milton: bubbles
Bella gets Milton in the bath and begins cleaning him. All the bubbles make Milton playful. He splashes and squeezes the duckie happily.
It's Summer BBQ day so Bella invites her closest friends, the Yorks and Pancakes, over to celebrate. When they arrive she begins taking selfies as she needs to level up in photography for promotion. Mortimer does manage to leave his writing to greet the guests. He knows them but they're not friends.
Kelly: So much I could swipe
Deanna: Get back here!
Bella: Hello you two. Now you must be Paris
Paris: That's me
Bella: Calista mentioned you'd be tagging along. It's nice to meet you
Deanna: Thanks for inviting us Mrs Goth
Bella: Bella is fine
Paris: You have a lovely house
Bella: It is rather nice
Milton: Doggie? Doggie!
Dale: *barks* who me?
Milton: Big doggie, fluffly doggie
Dale: *barks* you bet I am
Milton: Doggie nice? Doggie friendly?
Dale puts on his biggest smile to assure Milton he means no harm.
Milton: Bark bark, bark bark
Dale: *barks* Good try tiny human
Mortimer begins grilling.
Kelly: Pa, there's so much loose stuff here
Aaron: No
Kelly: But I haven't done anything
Calista: And you won't do anything because Bella is our friend
Kelly: You two are boring. I mean, just one spoon won't be missed
Aaron: Theft is theft young man
Kelly: Ugh fine
Milton: Nice doggie
Dale: *barks*
Milton: Doggie likes barking arf arf, arf arf
Dale: *barks* you're getting closer little one
Bob: Dale?
Dale: *barks* Dad! Best dad
Milton: Your doggie is fluffy
Bob: He is. He is the most adorable
Milton: *giggles*
Mortimer: Lunch is ready everyone! Come and get it
Everyone manages to grab a plate of something. There is definitely not enough seats but the guests figure it out.
Fergus: Why are you in uniform
Iggy: I have scouts right after this remember
Kelly: Goody two shoes
Iggy: Better than being a gremlin
Kelly: Pfft, whatever
Fergus: Stop making me look uncool Iggy
Mortimer tries to make small talk with Bob, not realising Bob is the worst person for small talk, it's a loner thing. Not sure why Calista has thrown on her military uniform but Aaron is definitely oggling his wife. I missed who made the kitchen mess that Iggy mops up, but I'm 98% sure it was Kelly.
After lunch Milton tries to make some jokes with Mortimer but he is having none of it. Having grown into a mean sim Mortimer goes so far as to crush Milton's dreams. A sad Milton doesn't understand what he did wrong and sits down dejectedly.
When everyone leaves Milton makes a beeline for the stereo. He loves sounds so happily bobs away. Bella however is still sad about her rift with Mortimer and goes to bed to cry it out. It helps a little so she goes to see if Milton needs anything. He needs snuggles.
Milton needs to improve his thinking skill so Bella offers to teach him on the blocks. Milton says NO. Bella tries to hug it out over him being defiant but he rejects this. Bella kneels down and starts to teach him about manners. He is unsure about this, after all Mortimer has no manners for him.
In the end he gets mad having to learn about manners. He needs to work on his thinking skill though so Bella reaches a compromise with more flash card time. In the end we are successful and his thinking skill reaches level 3.
Milton discovers someone broke his dollhouse today (again I'm 98% sure it was Kelly). Bella is in the middle of fixing it when Milton turns and speeds off.
Bella: Where are you off to
Milton: Door noise
Bella: Do we have another visitor
Milton: Bell door, bell door
Bella: Doorbell sunshine
Previous Part ... Next Part
#sims 4#the sims#the sims 4#Rotation7#ChangingPlumbobStorytime#GothHousehold#MiltonGoth#MortimerGoth#BellaGoth#AaronYork#CalistaYork#ElizaPancakes#KellyYork#DeannaYork#ParisPearl#BobPancakes#FergusPancakes#OnyxPancakes#IggyPancakes#R0701
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This madness, like so many others, begins with a dream. In this dream, there is a voice without a source. The voice is booming and loud. It's so loud that I can feel it in my chest. When I cover my ears and try to hide from it, it reverberates in my skull. What it says, it terrifies me and I dare not forget.
"An end of all flesh has come before me,
for the earth is filled with wrongdoing through them.
Here, I am about to bring ruin upon them."
I am startled awake, drenched in sweat. I look over at my darling wife, and she sleeps the sweet slumber, quietly smacking her lips and mumbling something about feasts and grapes. I lay back down and try to fall back asleep, but I'm afraid I'll have that dream again. I stayed awake as long as I could, until weariness overtook me and I succumbed to the weight of my falling eyelids.
I awake early afternoon, to the scorching desert sun. My lips are parched and I hear my wife busy in the kitchen. The smell of bread entice me and I rouse myself out of bed, blinking out the sleep from my eyes as I head toward the kitchen. There, my wife has prepared a modest breakfast for me of dates, and a bit of meat from yesterday. "You are good to me, dear wife," I say, as I sit on the table to break my fast. She sets down a flagon of wine on the table, sneers at me.
"So, you've finally decided to join the living? I've never seen such laziness. Tsk, tsk... The sun's halfway across the sky and your sons have been out on the field the whole morning. Why such a late start?"
"Forgive me, dear wife. I've been troubled in my sleep as of late."
"I should be so lucky! What would happen if I was to wake so late? The whole family'd go hungry, is what."
I tear a piece of bread and hold it in my hand. I stare at the piece and..... it looks like something. Something that I'd seen before, but can't quite place what, or where. Like a word on the tip of one's tongue, I just can't get it out. What does this look like? Where have I seen this before?
"Wife," I ask her, holding up the piece of bread, "what does this look like?"
"What does that look like? Have you lost your mind? It looks like a piece of bread."
"I know what it IS, I'm asking, what does it LOOK like?"
"How should I know what it looks like? It looks like a piece of bread to me."
"Seriously, doesn't this remind you of anything?"
"Don't bother me with this nonsense. I have too much to do. The floor needs to be swept, the calves fed, your shirts to be washed and mended. I have no time for this idle chitchat. Hurry up and finish your breakfast, so I can clean the kitchen. Now go!"
I figure out exactly what that piece of bread looked like as I wash down the last piece of it with my wine. "A boat!" I shout. "It looks like a boat!"
"A boat? What are you talking about, a boat? You still have to tend the sheep, old man. Go on, get out of here! A boat..." She trails off into grumblings as she pushes me out the door.
That was three days ago. And now, my mind is filled with a drawing. Every time I close my eyes, it's there. Every night I sleep, I dream about it. Everything I look at, I'm reminded of it. Slowly, I put together the schematics of this boat that haunts me. Three hundred cubits in length, fifty cubits in breadth, thirty in height. A door on the side, and a skylight to top it off. An additional cubit. Three decks within the boat. Made of gofer wood and reeds, covered in pitch, inside and out. I sketch it out on paper, hoping I can transfer it out of my head, but it's no use. the more I draw it, the more vivid it becomes in my mind.
Then I slowly begin to suspect that the voice of doom I'd heard a few nights ago may be tied to this vision of a boat.
Finally, I decide that the only way to get this vision out of my head is to build the damn thing. What the hell do I know about building a boat? I'm just a god-damn farmer/herder. Regardless, for my sanity, I decide to build it. That seems to be the only way I can truly be satisfied....
I go to the village carpenter to ask him about the amount of wood and reeds I would need to build such a boat and he looks at me as if I'm completely out of my mind. Well, I might as well be, looking at the price he was quoting me. But if I don't build it, and soon, this horrible fear of doom will likely strangle me. I negotiate a better price from him, which takes me another three days of haggling, and I set myself to work.
My wife is beside herself now, for I traded many calves for all this wood. "You're trying to ruin us! Drive us to the poor house! What can one do with so much wood?" I ignore her and continue on my work. It pains me to grieve her so, but she wouldn't understand.
Every nail I drive in, I feel the sense of doom lighten just a little bit. Every drop of sweat, I feel a little better. At night, when I come home and sleep on the couch, I'm too tired to dream. Every step I take towards finishing the project, the closer I feel to my old self. I shrug off the ridicule of my neighbors. It bothers me not. They don't understand that this boat I'm building lessens my sense of dread. The only thing I'm concerned about is finishing the job.
Just as I was starting to feel like myself again, that's when the animals start coming.
To be continued....
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Moments of Despair #1 [Genshin Impact/Diluc x Reader]
Synopsis: “The man who was on fire and realized it too late.”
(A series of works where the boys deal with the passing of their beloved).
Albedo's despair
Warnings: angst, tragedy, major character death, graphic depictions of violence perhaps
(A/n): Had these ideas for a while after reading @/serensama To Mourn series of another fandom. So much sorrow and feeling I just was inspired to write 😫
_______________________________________________
The moment you fell lifeless in Diluc's arms, he wanted to disappear.
It was raining again, he had always despised the rain. How it trickles down the slope of your cheek, like tears falling from the heavens. The sight of it mixing with your blood creating a thin stream of red rivers flowing beside him. They patter down obnoxiously because time didn't care, the gods don't care, the world didn't care. You were just a small fragile person to their eyes but to him you were his light. A candle that used to shine in his dark world was now dissipitated by the waters of reality.
Many droplets have passed and he was still holding you. Diluc could do nothing but stare. He hadn't shed any tears nor could he make a coherent sound. Perhaps it was because his tears have long run out when his father was held in the very same way. Or it was because he was heartless. He's usually told for being cold and indifferent. But the pain clenching in his chest was proof that he still had one (proof that it was still beating), much to his dismay. It would be better if he didn't.
So why can't he just look away? Your wounds, your bruised features, everything now etched so deep into the back of his conciousness that is was starting to awaken his worst nightmares. They were the source of the bile growing in his stomach. The irony stench filling up his nostrils felt so sickening. He couldn't turn away. You're dead. You're dead. You're dead. As if reality had yet to register, or maybe he refused to accept it, Diluc helplessly gazed down your body with blank and empty eyes.
"Master Diluc..."
Jean's voice called out to him pitifully. He rises up with his back turned, ignoring the stares given to him, "Leave. The knights of favonius are not needed here."
"But she's a Mondstadt citizen," The anemo user retorts, slightly taken aback by his impassive reaction, "It's my responsibility to ensure this case doesn't go unnoticed."
Unnoticed. Diluc scoffs in his mind, what a tasteless joke.
"It seems you weren't listening," he announces as his head was turned ajar so they could see the deep hatred glowing red in his eyes, "Leave. Now."
Jean's lips trembled before barely being able to say, "Alright" and retreating her knights back to the city. Kaeya narrows his gaze at his bother, the sorrow was evident through his pupils. He steps forward until he was arms length away from his brother. Too little too late, another failure was added to the belt.
Kaeya was a man of many words but for once he was at loss of what to say. No underhanded suggestions, no ideas taunting him to spill his thoughts, he simply asks Diluc, "What are you planning to do now?"
Silence. Kaeya couldn't predict what sort of expression his brother was making as he looks at your corpse. It brought a heavy weight of unsettlement upon him and here he thought he had already grown used to his brother's quietness.
Slowly, he turns around while letting the water pour down his face. Kaeya tightens his jaw as Diluc drags his feet towards him, stopping when their shoulders were parallel, "It's none of your concern."
"You're just going to leave her here?"
There was a slight pause which was enough of an answer. The Cavalry Captain sighs when he watched him walk away, what was the point of asking when Kaeya knew Diluc so well? He glances at your form before swiftly shutting his eyes.
It was his concern.
-------
A week later, the staff of the Ragnvindr household could hardly recognize their Master's appearance. They knew not to bother him when he decides to lock himself in his chambers. Diluc drowns himself with work from hours to no end as he connects the findings of the person that took your life. As expected, it was one of his enemies- a fatui member. The question was, which one?
"Master Diluc, I beg of you, please take care of yourself," Elzer pleads.
The pyro user didn't bother to spare him a glance or look at the tray of food he carried.
Food...you always brought them whenever he had to work overtime.
"I do not remember specifiying anyone to be allowed in my office," he voices aloud, "If it's related to business affairs simply leave that with Adelinde and I'll take a look at it tomorrow."
"I understand. But you've been working all day and night yet refusing to take any breaks in between. At this rate, you'll harm your health."
The feather pen in his grip kept dragging it's course, "This is beyond the duties assigned to you Elzer."
"That's because it was a request sent by your father," he adds, knowing that stepping over his boundaries may cost him, "If Master Crepus was still here, I'm sure he would have said the same thing."
Taking a deep breath, Elzer lays out his last card, "And also your wife."
The pen slows into a halt.
No one had brought you up until now. Elzer anxiously watches his Master shifting in his seat, his red bangs covering half of his face but he could still see the frown pressing firmly on his lips. It wouldn't be a surprise if Diluc suddenly bursted at him for mentioning such a sensitive topic, all that matters was his master's well being and Elzer was willing to risk everything for it. But nothing. Diluc turns his attention ever so slightly at the tray he carried.
"Fine, but I'm not eating that."
"What? Wasn't this was her favourite-"
"Do I need to repeat myself?"
Elzer furrows his brows before sighing, "...No, Master Diluc."
He exits the room while carrying the fresh dish of Once Upon A Mondstadt that you loved so much. The door closes with a soft click and he was alone again.
People found it strange how Diluc seemed so vacant to your passing. He didn't even show up at your funeral. Instead, he continues his duties as a Mondstadt nobleman like usual while taking care of business matters associated with the winery. Except those who were close to him could see the difference in his actions. Apathy, he was so mechanical in every task he did. Like a marionette attatched on strings, a doll without a soul. After all, his soul died the moment when yours did too. What remains was a shadow of Diluc and a being existing solely for revenge and duty. He was nothing but a remnant.
Fatigue begins to wash over him and he fights to stay awake. Because once he gives in it will all be over. Once he closes his eyes, he would see your face with a multitude of images from the past. He would hear your voice calling out his name from a distant space as it echoes off the walls of his mind. He would fall into a dream where you were still with him and as always, waking up to see that it was never real.
I should have pushed you away.
Because what hurt Diluc the most wasn't that you were gone, rather, it was how you were still here.
Then you'd still be-
Something breaks and it turned out to be the pen he was holding so tightly. Only now Diluc realized how fast his heart was thrumming as beads of sweat began rolling down his forehead. Focus. Don't waste time. He won't grant himself the liberty of anything when your murderer was still on the run. Every wound they inflicted on you was going to be returned in tenfold. He'll make sure of it. That's why, he refuses to think about you at all. Diluc occupies his mind with other matters since at this point, work was the only efficient method of keeping his sanity in tact.
She needs you to focus.
The door opens and Kaeya enters the room while holding a document, "We found the guy."
His reaction was immediate, "Where?"
"Hm, now that we meet, it's actually quite debateable," The captain notes wryly, "When was the last time you've gotten proper rest?"
"I don't have time for this, either you tell me or I'll do it by force."
Kaeya couldn't help but sigh, "Apologies but you don't seem to be in any state for a fight. I'm sure you know how it would end up if you were to face your enemy right now."
"..."
"Diluc, this isn't healthy," Kaeya asserts, it's been a while since he sounded so sincere, "I'm not here to prevent you from doing what's necessary however, perhaps it would be better if I finished it in your stead."
"No," Diluc stubbornly answers, "Hand that over."
"...Heh, then there's really nothing I can do to stop you it seems," he whispers with a sad smile, "At the very least, be careful."
"I intend to," The pyro user snatches the paper parchment out of Kaeya's hands before opening the window, "Also, if Elzer returns, tell him there's a few errands I have to take care of."
The night was a full moon and the sky was empty, Diluc leaps off the edge and disappears into the darkness. There was no telling of what could happen next. Since you weren't here, it was up to Kaeya to watch over him.
-------
The claymore dropped to the ground with a clang as it soaks up the blood of the fatui he just killed.
Diluc was tired, so tired.
He slumps down against the wall from pure exhaustion, all that adrenaline and hatred went up in fumes, leaving behind whatever was left in his heart: nothing. Two hours, not even that far from Mondstadt, the fatui hid in an abandoned building as he cowarded for his life. When Diluc arrived, he never expected this monster to be so weak. This was the person who murdered you? A pathetic nobody that was simply following orders? This was the reason why he lost you forever?
In the end, the only one to blame was himself, for being weak and unable to protect you. He was supposed to be your hero ("Darknight hero," you'd always tease), the rock that shields you just as you had been the warmth he longed for many years, did he give you enough? Was this enough? He thought avenging your death would grant him a peace of mind and the justice you deserved but deep down, he knew it will never be enough when it comes to his love for you.
"Diluc."
He closes his eyes, he hears your voice. He was so tired, it wouldn't be a surprise if he started hallucinating.
"Diluc."
"I'm sorry..."
The man lets out a trembled breath as he apologized to the image of you in his mind. I'm sorry I failed you. They were repeated like a mantra in hopes to reach you somehow. Of course that was impossible, his feelings, his emotions, love and sorrow altogether will never reach you again. And your arms that once comforted him and brushed his hair with a soothing voice, saying everything will be okay, where are they now?
"Diluc."
"Stop," he didn't want to hear your voice.
"Diluc, I'm here."
"Stop..."
"Diluc..."
He jolts his eyes open and lets out a yell, what was he saying? He doesn't know. All he needed now was to drown out the fake voices mocking in his head. Diluc grabs the nearest object and shatters it against the floor, the dam was broken and it flooded uncontrollably, breaking everything in it's way. The abandoned house was filled with loud cries of a man sobbing with agony like a broken-hearted child. He crumbles to his knees and falls to his side, lifting his forearms while clutching his face.
And screamed.
Archons, what did he do to deserve this? Why do the people he cherish get taken away from him? Diluc never wanted to be the Darknight hero if it meant having his father perish in his arms. He didn't want the feeling of stabs against his chest with every breath he took. He didn't want to feel cold while knowing it was because you weren't here to hold him. He didn't want your voice, your pictures or your memory.
He wanted you.
"(Y/n)..." he chokes. Rolling to his back, Diluc moves his arms to cover his eyes, letting the tears run down to his ears, "(Y/n)..."
For who knows how long, he lays there in the abandoned building and mourns. Diluc doesn't have the strength to move from his position, he found himself staring mindlessly through the cracks of the roof when his voice had gone hoarse. The corners of his eyes still burned and his head was throbbing with so much pain. Maybe he should just stay here but the thought of being in the same room as your murderer was unfathomable.
Picking up his claymore once again, Diluc drags himself out of the door. Where would he go? It's not like he had a home to return to because home was when he was with you. A doll without a soul, the marionette moves as if the strings have commanded him to do so. Where ever it takes him, he didn't care. He just knew he had to go.
#genshin impact#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact scenarios#diluc ragnvindr#diluc#diluc x reader#jean gunnhildr#genshin impact diluc#genshin impact jean#kaeya alberich#Kaeya#genshin impact kaeya#genshin impact angst#genshin impact imagines#genshin imagines#genshin headcanons#genshin x reader#tragedy#nya-writes
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