#the little random adventures make up for it
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Arguments II
Alexia Putellas x Hardersson!Reader
Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: Your first argument
You weren't really one to argue.
You didn't enjoy confrontations. You didn't like yelling.
But you knew this was where it was heading.
Talia stewed in the driver's seat all the way home, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel.
This wasn't how you wanted her to find out.
You had been lucky, you think. You and Talia didn't argue. You had disagreements over silly things over when to feed the pets and whose turn it was to do the laundry.
But you knew, just by looking at the way Talia's jaw clenched that this was heading toward an argument.
You prepare yourself.
It happens almost as soon as the apartment door is closed.
"Lyon?!" She demands," Really, Lyon?!"
It wasn't the best way for Talia to find out, you can admit that. It wasn't that you were trying to keep it a secret. It was that you were told not to talk about it while the details were worked out.
You sigh. "I'm sorry but-"
"I thought you were happy here!" Talia interrupts," At Barcelona. In Spain. With me!"
"I am!"
"You're leaving!" Talia yells," You're leaving!"
"I'm not!" You snap back, hands clenching into fists as you dig your nails into your palm.
Talia scoffs. "Oh, forgive me if I'm wrong but Lyon is in France, yes?! So, yeah, y/n, you're leaving!"
"You're blowing this out of proportion!" You stand chest to chest with her.
You're practically the same height as her now so you're both yelling straight in each other's face.
(You have to concentrate as to not connect your lips to hers because it's unfair just how attractive she is while yelling).
The loan to Lyon had come out of nowhere, as was most emergency loans. It was a string of bad luck for the French team, their keepers dropping like flies until all that was left was two academy players who had never played for the senior team.
You, on the other hand, were twenty-one years old already with six years experience and a world cup win under your belt. You were a proven winner and Lyon were willing to throw an extortionate amount of money at Barcelona to get you on loan.
They offered you bonuses that was bordering on more zeros at the end of a number than you'd ever seen.
Lyon had been knocking on the door when your agent let clubs know you were leaving Arsenal. It had been a toss up between them and Barcelona.
But you chose Barcelona and they still kept knocking.
You agreed to the loan though, if only to get experience in a different league.
"If you want to leave," Talia yells," Then there's the door!"
"Oh, yeah? Well maybe I will!"
"Go on then!"
"Fine!
"Fine!"
You whistle as you make it to the door, crouching down to clip on Prins' leash before storming out into the hallway.
You choose to take the stairs instead of the elevator, working out some of your frustration on the way.
Prins' leash gets clipped onto your belt loop and you take off on a controlled jog around the neighbourhood.
Talia calls you.
You ignore it.
She call you again.
You don't want to continue this argument.
You turn off your phone.
You keep jogging, your feet pounding onto the pavement.
Prins runs next to you happily. He's always been able to keep up on your morning runs and a random afternoon run doesn't seem to faze him either.
Your mind runs just like your feet as you overthink all of your little interactions in the argument earlier. You wonder, briefly, if this means you and Talia have broken up now.
You hope not.
You're not sure how you would cope if Talia broke up with you over this.
Your running slows to a walk as you make your way to the beach. You sit on the sand and just stare out across the sea.
Prins whines a little bit, stamping his feet on the ground.
"Sorry," You say, unclipping his leash so he can run," There you go."
He doesn't though. He just whines a bit more, shuffling closer until his snout is pressed up against your face.
You smile.
"Thanks, Prins," You say, tearfully," You're a good boy."
His tail wags happily.
"He is a good boy."
You nearly burst into tears are hearing a familiar voice behind you.
"Hi, Alexia."
"Hi."
She sits down next to you and you bury your face in Prins' fur, not wanting her to see you cry.
"Nat's worried," Alexia says," She's calling everyone to see where you've gone."
"I turned off my phone. I didn't want to argue anymore."
Alexia frowns. "You argued with each other? That doesn't sound right."
"She was very angry," You whisper, turning on your phone in your pocket.
Alexia can just hear you over the roar of the sea. You've still got your head buried against Prins so your words are muffled.
"She's not angry anymore," Alexia says," She's very, very worried. You've been gone for nearly two hours."
That doesn't sound right, you think but when you fish out your phone, Alexia's right.
You've been running for nearly two hours since the argument.
"Oh."
Alexia chuckles. "Yeah, oh. You've had people looking for you. I think Nat even called your parents."
"I didn't want her to worry. I just wanted to stop arguing," You mumble.
"That's okay," Alexia assures you," But maybe you should shoot her a text telling her where you are so she doesn't worry anymore, huh?"
"Okay."
You text Talia your whereabouts.
There's silence for a long while between you both, nothing but the ocean and occasionally Prins shuffling around to get comfortable.
The sun is setting when Alexia speaks again.
"What were you arguing about?"
"I'm moving to Lyon," You say and Alexia jolts.
"What?" She asks in disbelief," Why? Does Barcelona not make you happy anymore?"
You give her an odd look. "No, it does, but staying out for one season wouldn't do any harm. Lyon has no keepers. Barcelona has two others plus that La Masia girl."
"The one that's always following you around?"
"I think it's sweet. She's good." You shrug. "I'll be back next year anyway."
"Wait..." Alexia blinks a few times. "What do you mean you'll be back next year?"
"It's only a loan," You reply," They're..." Your face goes red. "Lyon's offering the club a lot plus a bonus for me." You're sure that you resemble a tomato right now. "It's a lot of money. Enough to pay for a house in cash. Talia mentioned about maybe finding a place for ourselves."
"You want to buy Nat a house?"
"Well, I want to buy us a house." You frown. "Sorry...is it too early in a relationship to consider that? My Morsa said she was envisioning a house with Momma within the first month."
"No!" Alexia assures you," It's sweet. You're sweet, y/n, but I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding."
You turn to look at her. "A misunderstanding? Over what?"
She doesn't get to answer because a body crashes into you and a phone is shoved into your face.
"I found her!" Talia exclaims," I've got her! I've got her!"
On the phone screen is your mothers, both pressed up against each other as they stare.
"Don't do that!" Morsa immediately jumps into a lecture. "Do you know how worried we were?! We called you so many times! We thought you were dead in a ditch!"
"I had Prins with me." It's a weak defence and you know it but you have to at least try. "He wouldn't let anything happen to me."
"Princesse, I love you but your dog is as dumb as a pile of bricks," Morsa says," But I'm glad you're okay."
"You can go to France," Talia says quickly," Not that you need my permission but if you want to go then go. I'm sorry that I yelled. If you want to leave Barcelona then go but-"
"Leave?" You repeat," I'm not leaving. I'm just going on loan."
If you weren't still a little worried about Talia breaking up with you then you'd find the shocked look on her face comical.
"What?"
"It's just a loan," You say," I...erm...They're willing to give me a lot of money for it. I thought, maybe, we could use it to get a house."
"I...You...We...You want to get a house with me?"
"I mean...er, if you want that too. I know that-"
You don't get to finish because Talia drops her phone to pull you into a kiss.
"Yes, I want to get a house with you."
#woso x reader#hardersson x reader#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#woso community#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso#the big adventures universe
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Wonderstruck
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Ex!Reader
Summary: Simon Riley finally takes it upon himself to check up on his childhood best friend and ex lover. He's been torturing himself reminiscing on your relationship and what went wrong for years now. Little does he know... you're in the same boat. Having seen someone today you swore was Simon on your way to work, you too, reflect on the past.
Words: 3.2k
Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Stalking(?),
Mentions of: Drinking, Smoking, Motorcycle Riding
A/N: I don't know why but I constantly am getting inspired by certain songs, or am reminded of certain characters, and all the lyrics were just screaming childhood best friends to estranged lovers, right person wrong time Simon Riley. Nevertheless, if you'd love to listen to some versions of the song which inspired me, here we are! Line divider credit: @saradika-graphics and I'd also love to thank @penelopepine for helping me with the ending <3
He knew it was a bad idea as soon as it'd crossed his mind, yet somehow he couldn't rid himself of it time and time again. That's how he found himself here; watching you cross the street, he can't help but notice the vintage band t-shirt you have on, frayed at the edges with the little strings of the hem coming undone that you've refused to cut off. In you hands you clutch a new phone, no doubt an upgrade from the last one he'd seen you with- though it's been a while.
As you mindlessly tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he can't help the way his insides churn. You were always effortlessly beautiful; you never had to try for anything. Even now, the way you can walk across the busy cobblestone side streets of London in high heels without seemingly second-guessing yourself, body language still poised on guard and ready in case anyone tries anything, just like he'd taught you.
It's clear from your outfit and the lipstick you’re donning that you're attempting to sway the officials at work. Maybe trying for that promotion you’d always been talking about, but never had the gumption to make today the day. What’s different about today, he wonders. You'd always been a go-getter, and truthfully, it was something Simon admired about you. Even in the moments where he'd resented it the most, the constant pestering and prodding at him in an attempt to get him to move and drag him out of the holes his dug himself into...
Where would he be now if only he listened?
What if you knew better?
He couldn't deny that the thoughts kept him up at night while he was away. Though, admittedly, more often than not it was the string of random memories that he’d get glimpses of during the day. It’d always be at the worst times, too. Two weeks ago in Berlin he’d been clapping Kyle on the back, hoping he’ll get it together as he stumbled out the pub. While Soap had the camaraderie to slug half his mate’s weight over his broad shoulders, Simon found himself unable to help as his eyes were drawn in by a couple a few paces down the block.
“Bollocks!” He’d shouted out in frustration. Double-checking himself, he didn’t have a spare cap on him, and he knew he sure as hell didn’t bring an umbrella on your little last minute ‘trip’. Not that he’d really call walking down to the local Tesco for snacks late one summer evening a trip. ‘It’ll be an adventure! Just think of it like that.’ You’d persuaded him.
“What? Are you going to melt?” He hears you joke. As his brown eyes land on your face when you turn to meet his gaze, a few steps ahead of him down the road, he can’t help the smile that breaks out across his lips upon your laughter. Sure, you may both be a little drunk after spending the evening in and having a drink or two. But it doesn’t change the way he feels about you, if anything, it makes him even more keenly aware of the way you affect him.
“Maybe. Who knows?” He teases in responses, tugging his jacket up and over his head to shield himself from the cool summer rain. Despite the time, now he’ll most likely need a shower when you get home. As he jogs to catch up and bring you under his little makeshift cocoon, you do the unexpected.
It was you, of course… he should’ve known better, always testing him, pushing him. With a gentle drop of the plastic bag full of snacks upon the side of the road you’d been strolling down, he watches as you run into the empty street. The streetlights illuminate you in a hazy orangey-yellow light as you begin to spin and twirl, dancing in the street.
With a shake of his head, he’s left stunned once again by the vast difference of your personalities. Your jeans and t-shirt are starting to get damp and discolored, and there’s a taunting, displeased remark sitting on his tongue just waiting to be made. It’s the utter joyous smile on your face as you tip your head back and relinquish yourself to your fate that leaves him wonderstruck, he thinks.
“Come on, Simon!” You beckon, finally meeting his gaze once again with that familiar carefree, hopeful look behind your irises. With an outstretched hand, he knows he can’t deny you this… and really, there’s something inside him that tells him he doesn’t want to, either.
“It’s her, innit?” He hears his Captain’s voice call over his shoulder. Pulled from his memories, Simon dismisses Price with a nonchalant grunt. As the old man tries to place a hand on his shoulder he dodges it, realizing he’s been watching the couple for longer than he’d thought. With Soap and Gaz almost to the end of the block, Simon sighs before shrugging his shoulders to right his jacket and head off in their direction for backup.
That was a time when your playfulness been more easily taken and accepted without question. No fighting, no push back, resentments… maybe that was it: he’d stopped going with the flow. He’d stopped accepting the punches and started dodging and weaving your advances at fixing things and picking up where he left you. Because while it’s too late now, he’s finally realized it for what it is: he left you in the dark, he’s the one who pushed you away, closed himself off.
That night he’d curled up in the temporary bed he’d been assigned, more memories continued to consume him. The way you’d effortlessly ease his worries on nights he’d come home stressed, feathers ruffled from whatever petty drama went on during the day. Whether it was something the guys said that stuck with him, or something he couldn’t get out of his mind when he came back from deployment. Your kisses always seemed to be the cure, your love… or maybe it was just… you.
“You know furrowing your brows like that will cause wrinkles,” you inform him, reaching out to run gentle fingers over his bunched skin.
A grunt of acknowledgment leaves his lips. “More for me to worry about, hm?” While it’s all he says, his eyes are searching over your composure.
“No,” it leaves your lips without thought, “just something to think about, be mindful of. If you’re not upset, then why furrow them?” Voice quiet in the moonlit apartment, your fingers smooth out his brows gently as you admire him. “I read something the other day about how it’s possible our body informs our mental state. If you’re tensing all the time, it won’t help your stress, Si.”
He simply hums in response, doing nothing to stop you as you ghost your lips over his for a moment before planting a loving chaste kiss to his. While big and wide warm hands find the exposed bit of skin between the hem of your sleeping pants and the shirt you wear, it’s the unexpected cool sensation that elicits a muffled gasp. Your much smaller hands are sneaking up underneath his sweatshirt to explore his abdomen, caressing him like he were made of soft silk. Your lips meet again for a chaste kiss.
Then it’s turning into something more; you have to take it slow, your lips dancing against one another, his hand rubbing your back to let you know it’s alright. As you begin to run out of breath, it’s only when you pull away, lashes fluttering against his skin that you ask him. “You know I’d love you even with wrinkles, right?”
Taken aback, he can’t help but stare. Unsure how to respond or what to do, his lips part in search of words. “Is that so?” He finally questions, hand giving your side a soft squeeze.
“My favorite boy… I love you to the moon and back… scars and all. I always have, and I always will, Simon,” you whisper, ghosting his lips again before planting one on him, “I just hope you know that.”
And at the time, he swore he did. It’s odd, really, and he wouldn’t lie to himself about it either. Simon tried dating after you, he tried hooking up, he tried it all… but it never felt right. As many times as he replays the memory, he can never get past the feeling of home. With you, it felt like home. You never made him feel expendable, or worry of the abandonment he knew would inevitably come.
For years afterward he blamed you, he saw it as your fault that you left, you abandoned him… when, maybe, really it’s finally time he admits it was him. He made it a self-fulfilling prophecy, and there was nothing you could do.
It's on your way home from work that you see them; while waiting for the bus, there's a playground in the park a few meters away. Really, the idea that human nature is predictable is always laughable at first, but only after watching people and stepping back to become an observer you've noticed from time to time that... it's more than true. Even from a distance, the children in the park look happy... but that's not what catches your eye. There's a blonde boy, and a girl, much like yourself when you were younger, playing what you can only assume is something halfway between hide and seek and tag, considering the playground offers more space and obstacles than hiding spots.
Perhaps it's the joyous looks on their little faces, or the way they unabashedly play, carefree and unaware of the adult worries and burdens the world hangs above their heads, just waiting any day to drop upon their shoulders unexpectedly. However, you can't help but reminisce on the ways you'd spent your childhood playing games much like the one the children are playing in the distance with a boy, very similar to the one before you, loving life, content, happy, simply aspiring to be the best at finding your ultimate hiding spot.
The soft squeak of the wheels coming to a halt before you and the mechanical release of air as the doors open brings your attention back to the present. Before you know it, you're on the bus, unconsciously taking a seat along the windows, hoping, just maybe you'll catch a glimpse of them as the bus drives down the road down its route. Though as you pass, the sun is beginning to set in the distance, the children departing the playground their separate ways as dusk begins to take its toll and curfew sets in place. The whole time you'd been focused on yourself, it's entirely possible that your own boy wound up beating you at your own game, finding the best spot and hiding himself away from the rest of the world.
Maybe it's the fact that you could've sworn you'd seen someone that looked almost identical to Simon on your way to work this morning, but memories continue to plague your mind for the first time in months. All the weekends he'd spent over at your house doing aimlessly silly things to fill your time, from science projects, to playing 'warrior' outside, you never felt more alive than the time you two spent together.
"I'll keep ya safe, yeah? Nothin' to worry about," Simon insists, gently guiding you to the side of the vehicle. Despite going out with your friends to the city for dinner, you both were sober. It should be fine, it would be. You'd been with him a million times... how different could it be? He'd run it by you as many times as you'd asked.
You swear it's not a good idea, but you trust him to the ends of the Earth. With a look over your shoulder, his brown eyes are steady, not uncertain in his unwavering gaze as he nods in assurance. Swinging a leg over the seat, you're in front this time. Helmets in place, hands on the clutch and brakes, you make eye contact with Simon once more before he flicks both your visors down. "Ready?" You ask him.
"More than ready, Love," he quips. With a quick shove to the kickstand, balance (with Simon's help of course), and a rev of the engine, you start the motorcycle off slowly. Gloved hands around your waist, he gives you a gentle squeeze.
He was always pushing you out of your comfort zone, that one. It was the first time you'd driven his motorcycle, and while it'd been scary and daunting for the first fifteen minutes, you eventually got used to it and it blossomed into something freeing. You understood then why he likes it, and you'd never been more grateful for someone pushing you out of your bubble. While flashes of all the kisses, caresses, and intimate moments between the two of you start to effervesce, you force yourself to remember the last time you'd seen him.
With a lingering hug, you're hesitant to let him go. Even if you know it's necessary, it's still hard... it always has been. "You'll let me know when you get in, right?" You ask, searching his eyes. They stand out from the black warpaint, his uniform always made him look handsome, even if you couldn't imagine how intimidating seeing his actual attire would be in his enemies position.
A dismissive and irritated grunt meets your ears as he shrugs your hands off. He'd packed quickly, something he's been doing more recently; taking more and more jobs, you've begun worrying for his health, not that he'd talk about it, of course. "If I 'ave time."
While you weren't able to get all the details on this excursion, you did manage to get that it was essentially a 'clean-up' for him. He had to go in and make sure that the hostages they'd had a lead on were all rescued and no one was left behind, no assailants or informants lingering or hiding. You've known that his job is hard on him. Losing people can't be easy, especially when you feel like you could've done things differently and changed the ending to their stories. Yet, you also know that throwing yourself into work the way he's been doing without talking to anyone, simply managing to pass debrief counseling by whatever meter their measuring is... not working. Not anymore, at least.
"You're running from this! You won't even answ-" you shout, gesticulating as you do everything in your power to keep the anger and worry that's tightly wound wrapped up in your gut under control, not to let anymore of it seep out than already has.
"An' you're one to talk?! You don't get to interrogate me," he argues, rounding the couch to get closer. The dark circles under his eyes scream volumes, even if he's unwilling to acknowledge whatever's going on for him. "I deal with that enough in my line o' work. Don't-"
"Simon," you say, tone holding that familiar warning tone.
You'd gotten home safely and were able to change and make something to eat. The feelings haven't left the cavity of your chest, still lingering there, the way he always does. He may be 'Ghost' on the field, yet he still haunts your memories, always making you question whether or not you did the right thing. What if only you'd done more? What if you hadn't pushed him so much? It wasn't always in a bad way, either, in fact, most of the time you'd find yourself chuckling randomly at some inside joke only the two of you share, or something he'd find funny. The stolen sweaters and hoodies you know for a fact long ago washed away his scent. Even if you swear sometimes that you can smell the faint odor of cigarettes he used to smoke. In the city when you're out with the girls you'd find yourself fondly inhaling the smell whenever a stranger would be smoking one nearby.
You'd cursed him: Simon Riley. Yet, the aching inside you he left often made you feel like he there's some sense of closure he never fully gave you. The SAS would tell you that he'd get your letters, even if you stopped writing years ago a little while after the split. You never got a response, and you never really expected one. Simon never really was one for letter writing. It was the only way you felt like you could get that closure, that part of your life done with. Ultimately, it did help you move on in some way.
A sigh tumbles past your lips as you change the channel on the television, unsure what you really feel like watching. A reality comedy show is on, something of a local prank show. It wasn't the best show, really, but it's one you used to watch a lot as a kid, and thus, another reminder of him. This one makes you smile, nonetheless. It's a good memory; nostalgia envelopes you in the way that makes you crave times that felt easier. Just when you wrap yourself in your fuzzy blanket, there's a soft rapt at the door.
Heart accelerating, eyes widening slightly, you slowly rise from the couch. The television volume isn't on loud, and while there may be light coming from it to inform a stranger you're home, that isn't enough to say that you're alone. With slow and cautious steps, you approach the door, careful to check the window near the door from a vantage point you're unseen. It's a man in a black hoodie. Panic sets in and you turn to skillfully head back toward the couch in search of your phone with quiet and quick steps. That's when it strikes you.
With all pretenses abandoned, you rush to the door and fling it open, lips parted in shock and awe. "Simon?" Searching and attempting to scan the partially shielded face, you're able to see tufts of blonde hair lit from the porch light.
"I know you've no reason to-" he starts, hands removing themselves from his hoodie's pocket, "but please let me come in and explain."
"You came back," you whisper. It's more for yourself than him, and whether it's out of bewilderment, intuitive knowing, or a premonition; you were right.
As he takes a step forward and reaches out for you with shaky hands produced from the familiar black pocket of his hoodie, you don't retract. Slow and tentative movements on both ends, he grabs ahold of one hand, thumb consciously skirting back and forth repeatedly in a form of grounding and seeking comfort. "You were right," his deep voice rasps.
Your hand cautiously seeks his cheek beneath the shield of his hood. Fully expecting to meet the spandex material of his balaclava, you're surprised by the warmth of his skin underneath your gentle touch. Wrist pushing against the cotton hood, it gives way, revealing his face. Searching his deep brown eyes for any sign he's genuine... you're met with truth.
With a weak nod you turn, leaving the door to shut softly behind the two of you.
~~~~~~~
forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo
#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#my writing#song fic#taylor swift#cardigan#simon riley x reader angst#angst#angst with a happy ending#simon ghost riley x ex!reader#simon riley x ex!reader#simon riley x cbf!reader#simon ghost riley x cbf!reader#biker!simon riley#song fics
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What's in a name? P3
✰⁂ Hobie brown × Rich!Osborn!reader
Part I, Part II, Part III
3/3
Synopsis: Osborn is almost a disgusting name because of the messed up things it has and the dirty money that holds it up by threads. And here is the child that sneaks out one night and meets a punk that goes directly against her father.
✩Warnings: cussing, Some angst, 'crybaby' reader, depictions of smut, ‘tantrum’
Rated 13+(??)
✰6.5k words.
⚥Afab/fem reader
____________________
The last month has been.. Blissful.
Relaxing and calm for you, Hobie making you feel things you’ve never experienced with his tongue, hands, and words.
Something about him as the punk he is almost leveled out your expensive life, humble houseboat compared to your marble mansion. Some nights were spent planning, some were small date-like hangouts, some were spent with his lips locked in yours and his tongue teaching you how kissing should feel.
But you didn’t realize how little he mentioned or even acknowledged (y/n) in your presence. You didn’t know if he was fully alright with everything that went down between you two though. He would stop wearing his spiderpunk mask around you and you’d stop wearing your balaclava which probably- or hopefully meant he still trusted you.
You even started taking more money from your dad and buying even more things to donate with less fear of being caught, you and Hobie would go to large corporations disguised as a cute couple that definitely wouldn’t pocket a particularly enticing trinket.
You kind of feel like robin hood, but instead of stealing actual gold and riches, you spend what's given to you for different purposes, one step at a time. Hobie has shown you the differences between real and fake silver, obviously you know how to tell in your jewelry by seeing its shine, but now he’s explained the more simpler ways and reasonable prices for normal people since way back then you never had to look at the multiple thousands on a cute bracelet.
Your shoebox of polaroid pictures grew and so did your relationship with Hobie. You began learning about your own pleasure along with learning of his, what movements you can do with your tongue or hips that makes him whimper beautifully throughout the bedroom of his small houseboat.
And Hobie hasn’t hesitated with taking his pictures and tucking them into the waistband of your panties for ‘memorabilia’, So now that shoebox consisted of pictures of you and him spray painting, your masked smile posing beside another one of your fathers now vandalized buildings, and some of Hobie’s favorites.
Ones where he’s bottomed out, hips against your plush ass and his hand holding your hair in a make-shift ponytail, the other taking the picture. Another one where you’re looking up at him with your eyes doe and tongue out, his seed stained on your lips and chin. The list goes on and on about the lewd adventures you and Hobie have done. Each picture is more intimate than the last.
___________
The knock on the door makes your chest tense, immediately shoving the pictures and shoebox under your bed and leaning your hips against the mattress, looking over at the door.
Roxanne opens it and comes in with a clipboard in hand, head dipped downwards as she began rambling about another event your father is planning to host in your mansion.
“Alright so, security will be tighter but your father will be making a party to celebrate the new opening of a bank, so you’ll be wearing a mostly green dress and most of the house will be open to guests. Unlikely anyone will come to your room but the housemaid will be sure to clean everything top to bottom, left to right.”
You were practically tuning her out since she often covered this information for every event, the same information.
For every event.
The only difference was that this was going to be held at your house for the first time since your mothers funeral. It was weird but you remembered the procedures: Big guard watching your every move, random people whose gross hands you have to shake, rinse and repeat.
“So when is this thing gonna be?” You ask Roxy with a tilt of your head and sitting on the edge of your bed as she remained in her spot where she stood.
“Soon, around the twenty-second.” She answered without her gaze moving from her clipboard, her pen tapping it in a senseless rhythm which expressed her deep thoughts on the subject, Likely thinking about some things more important than your petty dress or makeup.
“That will be all. Your father will give you his black card so you could buy a dress of your liking. Special event means that-”
“I can’t risk re-wearing something I’ve worn before, yeah yeah.” You cut her off with an eye roll, knowing what she was gonna say.
Roxy raised her eyebrows at this attitude but shrugged it off, “Precisely, you’ll be sent out around the afternoon, let's say at around two-thirty.” And with that, Roxanne nodded and walked right out, leaving the door open on her way out.
You stand from your bed and shut the door, pulling out your phone to text Hobie once the click of the knob confirmed its closed position.
“Im going out later with Normans money” It felt weird to refer to your dad by his first name, but referring to him as your dad didn’t feel right either, and calling him ‘Osborn’ had too much association with you.
“K” Hobie messaged back, “what time”
“I’ll actually have to buy something. A pretty dress so do you wanna tag along for that too?” You smiled to yourself, knowing Hobie wouldn’t really want to be in a fancy dress shop and have to judge each and every dress that's even a shade of green-
“Why not”
You can feel the shrug from past the screen, his usual gesture whenever he says something like ‘why not’. And before you knew it, by the time you ran off from your secret service-like bodyguards, you spotted Hobie.
Not spiderpunk- You spotted the handsome man beneath, face covered in piercings and hair being as lawless as his other punk persona. He grins down at you and offers you his arm and with a mocking tone, says “Alrigh’ M’lady, Where we goin’ first?”
“What are you playing at, Hobie?” You ask as your head shook and your arm intertwined with his, walking down the street towards your usual dress shop you’ve gone to since you were thirteen. No other place was ‘trustworthy’ as your father put it, and you’ve never liked the hassle of exact measurements.
“Whatever could you mean, Ms Osborn?” He grinned, looking around the streets at the peoples heads turning because of some random punk star with the daughter of the richest and most powerful man in the city.
You two were in the main street where more expensive shops were, you had your dads credit card so you couldn’t spend it in the smaller businesses Hobie had shown you in his part of town because they would show up in the statements, or because they didn’t even take card. Hobie felt like a fish out of water when he was walking down these sidewalks with smooth brick tiles instead of cracked pavement for once.
“You know damn well.” You scoffed in response, “Do you seriously want to do dress shopping with me instead of.. Emily?” Your voice lowers as you mentioned your masked persona which makes Hobie chuckle and shake his head.
“Well, I wouldn’t be able to spend time with either. Plus, It doesn’ matter now, Wha’ dresses are we gettin’ you now, princess?” He teased in a lower voice with a stupid smirk as the arm that was intertwined with yours slid to your waist. You could feel your face heat up but you keep your head up and continue walking with him beside you, him walking on the part of the sidewalk closest to the road.
“Fucking hell, just.. Okay so the plan is that I’ll try on dresses and you’ll boost my ego in every one and you’ll tell me which one is the best look for me.” You told him, trying to brush off how he called you princess, how you can swear he knows what he’s doing.
He raised his eyebrows then his hands in a faux surrender gesture, “Yes ma'am.” His voice is smug and it’s as if he’s coming along to humor you.
Your eyes roll and you shake your head, walking beside him with his arm intertwined with yours in a playfully chivalrous manner, as if he wasn’t already polar opposites with you. You seem like an elegant quartz and he was a stone pulled out of a vandalized building. Your height differences making you either unfortnately shorter or him somehow taller.
“Here’s the place, just-” You began, almost getting to the dress parlor but Hobie soon pulled you into an alley right beside the building and kissed you, which made you squeak and your hands moving to his chest.
“What the fuck?!” You asked as you looked up at him and he just smugly grinned and looked down at you, his hands on your waist as you continued, “Anyone could have seen. I would be fucked if anyone saw that, neither of us have a mask and unlike you, if my reputation gets a single mark, that would get my dads attention and-”
He rolled his eyes and kissed you again, as if to stop your worries. “It’s fine, tell me: Do you ever look into alleyways when you’re shopping?” He asks rhetorically to get his point across, most people like you wouldn’t care for smaller details and excuse the alleyways whilst on their errands
“.. What if someone decided to look? We’d be screwed.” You retort, shaking your head, which made Hobie shake his head back with a chuckle.
“You’re paranoid.” He scoffed as he took your hand and brought you back out to the sidewalk and towards the shop you had mentioned.
Hobie brown will be the death of you, but spiderpunk always made you feel alive.
_________
You got the dress and Hobie let you go on your merry way before you got picked up so that you dad’s men wouldn’t see you with anyone.
The event had arrived and like you assumed, random rich womanizers with their trophy wives and laughing as if they owned the world. Well, they practically do, But there's one specific couple that makes you seeth.
Your father has always been family oriented so now that an event is at your house, your uncle and aunt will be coming over to be more heads to count at the party. There's nothing wrong with your uncle Wilson or aunt Doris on paper but it’s the kid they have that makes your blood boil.
The kid is named Elizabeth as if she were a respectable person, but she was barely a freshman in highschool who has as much as you did financially, except she wasn’t homeschooled like you were and her ego was as big as the numbers in her parents bank account. She never grew out of her brat phase and she’s more spoiled than you because if she sees someone with something she wants she asks for it tenfold.
“Oh my god! Where did you get those earrings?” She grinned as she ignored your concept of personal space and reached out to grab the shiny jewelry that hung from your ear.
You pull away from her and awkwardly smile once you avoid her touch, “Your Aunt Emily gave them to me.” You answered with almost exaggerated politeness, referring to your own mother as her aunt because there’s no way she’d remember her as your mom.
“Oh yeah! She’s dead right?” She frowned, “She can’t get me anything like that? Where did she get them? Do you know?” Her tone was laced with disappointment.
You almost froze at her words. You never minded much about who spoke about your mom but the way she said it as if she were simply talking about a show that was canceled.
“..Yeah, Last time we saw each other it was literally her memorial ceremony.” You mumbled with slight snark to which your aunt chimed in a half apology before ushering your cousin away.
“But Mom! Why does she get cool things? I wish I were homeschooled and that my daddy was the president! It’s not fair!” She whined dramatically as she threw her arms around, as if throwing a mini tantrum for her mother.
And you think that's the only time anyone has been understanding of your situation, because your aunt swatted her on the back of her head and began telling her to calm down, and that homeschooling would take away her reputation as the popular girl at school which shut Elizabeth right up.
They fade into the crowd and you stand aside, eating an appetizer of a snack before suddenly a large suited man recognized as your bodyguard approaches you and quietly says into your ear, “Have you allowed Ms. Elizabeth into your bedroom?”
When he says this you decide to play it cool and softly shake your head, placing your hand on his shoulder once he begins walking back towards the hall of your room then stopping him. Walking to your room instead, and once you were out of sight from the party, you bolted up the stairs towards the creaked open bedroom door.
You shove open the door and feel your heart drop, you knew your cousin was snooping around your room but what need did she have to look under the bed?
And in your goddamn shoebox.
“What the hell are you doing?” You yelled as you went over to her and snatched the pictures out of her hands, which she sarcastically surrendered with a dramatic gesture of her hands.
“What are you doing? Actually, who are you doing?” Elizabeth grinned as she held out another picture where it was you on top of Hobie, a loose shirt adorning your torso which luckily hid where he disappeared inside of you.
“Shut up! You’re just- you aren’t even supposed to be in here!” You snatched the picture and quickly shoved it into the shoebox, then the box under your bed.
“I was looking for any extra earrings you could give me, not like you have anyone to look good for other than that rando.” She commented with childish snark as she vaguely gestured in the direction of the intimate box and images. “I didn’t realize you had a little boy toy you’ve kept hidden, Does my uncle know?”
Your eyebrows furrow as she asks if your dad knows about him, About Hobie. You keep your mouth shut and glance away as you struggle to hold in your genuine frustration at how this is how you ended up caught.
“.. Still doesn’t explain why you’re looking under my bed for some earrings.” You change the subject off of Hobie and back to how she’s in the wrong for snooping around your bedroom in the first place.
“You still haven’t told me who this guy is! I’m guessing he’s just some booty call, not even a boyfriend to you?” Ellie said with a smirk, but more in a condescending way as if she were better than you for having some kind of relationship that wasn’t based on sex.
“He isn’t just ‘some booty call’-” You began before the teenager continued, looking over another picture.
“He’s hot though, but too many piercings. Does he have a piercing on his tongue? Can’t see your face well on this one but wow, big hands-” She teased which made you snatch the next polaroid from her hand and your cheeks flush red at what that one was this time.
It showed Hobie’s unruly hair between your thighs, which were being held tightly by his ringed hands to keep them open, his eyes straight up into the camera where you took a picture of him feasting on your core. You’re so grateful she was on the more basic side of popularity where she didn’t know punk stars, Hobie seemed like some random emo to her. Luckily.
You could see on her expression that she had a request and something to say, so you gestured your hand ironically, “Go ahead, take your time. Go ahead.” You prompted sarcastically.
“So, It would suck if your dad found out about this.” Her head tilts, “So, Just give me your earrings. Unless you want your dad finding out you have some other ‘daddy’?”
You cringe at how she referred to Hobie as your other daddy, but your stomach soon drops as you realize that she’s blackmailing you just for a pair of your moms earrings.
Dead Moms Earrings.
“You sadistic bitch!” You cursed as you got closer, about to give her a well deserved slap for her stupid actions, wanting to humble her like she deserved before she stopped you and stepped back.
“Hurt me and I’ll go announce it to the event! Imagine the headlines, ‘Norman Osborn’s daughter caught with a random guy!’, your reputation.” she said with a sarcastic gesture of her hands as she walked towards your door.
“Reputation? Fucking- fine.” You yanked her sleeve to keep her from walking out, soon moving your hands to your ears in order to take off your earrings, “I want you to just.. Take care of the earrings. Please.” You mumbled before passing her the pair of jewelry.
“Whatever.” she shrugged as she looked at the shine of the gold then shoved them in her pocket, “Thank you cousin dearest.” She playfully mocked before walking out of your room, leaving you with your own thoughts and leaving the door open.
You nearly slam the door shut then lean on it with your back, eyes quickly filling with angry tears and hands moving to grip your hair in frustration. At how easily you were manipulated, at how your cousin obviously thought little of you, how she called Hobie a random booty-call.. Familiar feelings erupted in a choked sob from your throat.
Guilt.
Rage.
Frustration.
Your fist tightened and was about to be tossed back to punch any surface you could to relieve what you could but soon you heard a twhip and a sticky white rope soon surrounded your hand and kept it from going anywhere or doing anything.
You sigh once you realize what caused it, and soon that reason walks- or drops in through your window, pulling off his Spiderpunk mask and heading over to you.
“You alrigh’?” Hobie said softly as he got the web off of you and kneeled beside you, his hand on your shoulder.
Hobie knows that when you cry it's never for no reason, He has learned about your sensitive habits but he has never seen you like this. Tearing up with anger he had only seen the night you two argued, and the second you choked another sob and your arms wrapped around him he quickly hugged you back.
You felt safe in his lanky arms, comforted and as if he could shield you from dangers or people that couldn’t ever treat you as a person. He couldn’t ever be just a booty-call because he's the only feeling of ‘home’ you’ve had since before Osborn industries became a bigger thing.
After you didn’t answer his question as if you were alright, Hobie simply held you close and cradled you like how you deserved.
Once your breathing calmed and relaxed, you soon moved your hands to cradle his face and he quickly met your gaze with his, “Was this jus’ an excuse to hug me?” Hobie joked with a chuckle to lighten your mood, soon being met with a swat to the shoulder.
“..My cousin blackmailed me into giving her some earrings, but they used to be my moms.. And she didn’t care.” You explained softly to summarize, pulling back and running a hand through your hair.
“Blackmailed? That’s.. That’s dumb, what was she using against you?” Hobie asked as he rested his hands on your waist and looked down at you.
“Your pictures.” You scoffed as your hands lowered to his chest, nodding your head towards the shoebox where the picture of Hobie with his head between your legs was faced up. You saw Hobie’s smirk adorn his lips as he looked at the polaroid and bit his lip, making you roll your eyes and softly hit his chest.
“What! What do you mean by my pictures? As far as I’m concerned, all of that was a team effort.” He cooed as his hands lowered to your hips and he pulled you closer where your body flushed against his.
Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, “You realize that I’m fucked?” You half joke, “She found our pictures, and if she blabs to anyone around here, That will spread like wildfire.”
“Yeah yeah, what if you just stopped worrying? What if I had a solution?” Hobie teased before giving you a peck on the lips.
“Hm?” You question as you kissed him back, “Well, I’ve been fixing my houseboat.. And what if we could sail away together?” Hobie responded smugly.
Your eyebrows raise and you chuckle as if he were joking but his smile remains the same and his eyes gazing into yours. “Seriously? No- I don’t.. I can’t.” you retort with an awkward chuckle, “I don’t have any money without my dad, I wouldn’t be able to contribute.”
“Don’t worry about that, We could run off- spiderpunk can protect another place and you wouldn’t be the daughter of a monster.” He said before kissing you again before you argue and respond. “Think ‘bout it.”
“Hmm.. No.”
As tempting as it was, Seriously tempting, The idea of being able to go away and get out. Be your own person and finally be independent, you couldn’t bear the idea of your dad being heartbroken that you’re gone. He’s a horrible person, a horrible man, But he’s still your father.
And a damn good one.
What he’s done is unforgivable but he always was able to put food on the table for you and never once missed the chance to tell you he loves you. When your mother died it was you and him against the world, even if he was what mostly made up the issues of said world.
Hobie’s expression was like a mixture of confusion and disappointment which makes you sigh and explain yourself with your hands soothing onto his shoulders, “Sorry, It’s just that.. I can’t leave him. He’d be alone without me, and he was already broken when his wife died and no way I’m making him go through everything and worse.”
Hobie smiled at how thoughtful you were, almost too much for your own good.
“Alrigh’, I won’t be able to live with myself if I force you to come with me anyway.” Hobie chuckled before kissing you again, with a softer peck with his lips against yours for a moment.
“Well, okay. I feel like any moment now some random lady’ll knock on your door. You go’a get back to being a princess.” Hobie teased before pulling away from you, soon heading back to the window from which he came in.
“Awh, how will I survive without my knight in shining armor?” You said sarcastically as you followed him, and with a grin he brought you close and kissed your forehead, “You’ll manage.”
And with that, he flopped out and a web shot to a nearby building where he swung.
You watch his figure disappear into the distance and sigh to yourself, taking a breath to mentally prepare yourself and going to your vanity to reapply your makeup that smudged in your earlier ‘tantrum’ as Hobie would tease.
______________
The night breezes by as you stay aside, and thank god it speeds on by as the guests fade away and thankfully all those who are left are your uncle and aunt, and their hellspawn.
Thinking they were in any other place, you go to the kitchen for a snack.
And there was your thirteenth reason.
The hellspawn of satan and the embodiment of one of the seven sins was in your kitchen, sitting on the counter munching on your chips, On your chips you specifically have been saving for a time like this when you were craving them specifically.
She looked over at you before munching loudly on the savory snack, making your blood boil as she seemed to not care she’s eating the snacks you’ve specifically had stored in another part of the kitchen. Clearly implying that they weren’t up for taking.
But before you speak, you notice her wearing the earrings you gave her, her mom obviously knew you didn’t want to give them to her in the first place so how could she just shamelessly wear them?
“Oh, I’m a woman of honor so I won’t need these anymore, they’re heavy and they’re just not my style.” You cousin said as she pushed herself off the counter, with her dusty fingers she removed the earrings and passed them to you, leaving the silver greasy and you’re right about to slap her into the next century until your aunt and uncle walk into the kitchen seeming tense.
Your dad follows behind them, seeming tense as well but his discomfort is much more easily hidden than your aunts.
“We’re going now, say bye to your cousin.” Your aunt said curtly, her hand on Elizabeth's shoulder as your uncle straight up walked out without glancing at you.
“Bye! Good luck.” Your little cousin cooed before leaving with her mom giving you a disappointed glance, then following suit.
“..Dad? What's all that about?” You ask with an awkward laugh that came out more as a nervous outward breath, to which he looked at you and in your hands at the earrings.
“Get those cleaned up from that grease, they were your mothers. At least Elizabeth practically refunded you.” Your dad chuckled dryly before walking past you to the stairs.
Refunded?
Shit.
You place the earrings on the kitchen counter and follow behind him, his objective clearly being to go into your room.
“Wait! Wait- wait, dad, what are you doing? Remember privacy..! Our rule being I can’t go in your room and you can’t go into mine?” You stumbled on your words as you watched him open your door like a man on a mission, You distinctly remember that when you turned around twelve years old and was learning more about what Osborn Industries do, your dad has done his best to make sure you had little to no part in his business, which meant no more ‘office visits’.
He hadn’t been in your room since you took down your My Little Pony posters and stopped using jewelry boxes with music and rotating ballerinas in them.
He abruptly stood next to your door and gestured for you to go in first. His silent order was enough to shut you up and walk in, your father stepping into your room behind you.
“Anything you want to show me?” Norman asked with a tilt of his head, looking at you in a way you don’t think you’ve ever seen happen in your life. You were always a ‘good kid’, meaning you weren’t always caught.
With your answer: Silence, Norman looked away and took a breath with his tongue in his cheek and his hands on his hips. “Take it out.” He ordered, and before you even tried to act dumb in your answer, he repeated himself with a louder tone and pointed towards your bed.
Digging your own grave, you nod and do as he said, going to your bed and taking out the shoebox, placing it at the edge and sitting beside it.
Your dad came closer and sat on the edge of the bed with the box between you two, “So, Do you want to tell me what's in here?” His hand rests on the top of the shoebox and your hands clench into the lace of your dress.
Your dad never was the kind to ask anything unless he already knew, so you really were practically six feet under. If you say no, he’ll make you open the box. If you confess, you have no idea if anything worse will happen.
“..Pictures..” you murmured,
“Pictures of what?”
“Of me and someone.”
At your vague answer, his hand suddenly moved to the side of the shoebox and he pushed it off the bed, the cover falling off and the photos spilling out. He doesn’t look at the pictures at all and instead looks at the wall in the opposite direction away from them.
“Grab a picture where I see who it is.. Try to find nothing inappropriate.” Norman continued, seeming to wait patiently for you to do as he says. Now you feel like you’re being questioned to the point your teeth or fingers are at risk.
You look at the fallen pictures and back at Norman to make sure he's faced away, and look through them, looking for the least incriminating one of Hobie. Tears of dread and humiliation pooling at your eyes as you place it on the bed in front of your father, one where it's simply one of hobie with his neck craned to show hickeys littered on his slim jawline and collarbone.
Norman hums and nods slightly, “Is this that guy you liked? His music was like rock and his name was.. Harry? Henry? something-brown?”
“Punk music, and uhm.. It’s Hobie.” you mumble, you could never go against your father as if you two were like mixing oil and water.
He hums again before speaking with a firm and cold voice, “You aren’t seeing him again, and you’re not allowed out of the house. Roxanne will make your purchases and do your errands, and I’ll hire a twenty-four hour bodyguard.” He then stood as if your heart wasn’t just shattered by how you won’t be able to help anyone anymore, you’re more trapped than you were even before Hobie was in the picture, literally and figuratively.
You stood along with him and gestured your hands frantically, “What!? No! You can’t just-” You yelled before your words suddenly stop the moment you feel a sting on the side of your face, he just slapped you..
“Osborns don’t yell, and we don’t do disgusting activities with a perverted musician who’s only success in life is his ‘lifestyle’ of acting like a worthless punk.” You’ve never heard such venom in words spat from your father, never directed towards you at least.
And with that, he walked out. You felt like you were going to explode with all the anger boiling and frustration bubbling in your chest and when he walked out of your room, you screamed into your pillow and cried your heart out.
You don’t realize how long it’s been when you wake up, sitting up from your bed and looking over your bedroom where the few things that brought you joy were gone and cleaned out. Like your stereo, record player, Vinyl records, and your phone.
You felt tears prickle at the sides of your eyes and wish that this was a dream, that you can wake up to your father still loving you and hopeful that this really wasn’t happening.
About to lay back and cry again, you hear a thump on your window and then a few knocks.
You stand up and head over to your window to find Hobie awkwardly hanging on the wall while gesturing to the wooden frame of the glassed hole in your room.
You see that there's a lock, but a whole ass padlock that requires a key as if your window were the gates to a junkyard.
You shut your eyes and clasp your hands over your face with an exaggerated gentleness, knowing Hobie would break the window if he saw you physically take your frustration out on yourself or anything around you.
But just then your bedroom door flies open with Roxy standing there, staring at you and the punk by your window. You open your mouth to speak but she stops you with a gesture of her hand.
“Your father sent me up here to tell you that you’re no longer allowed out without your bodyguards, tomorrow security cameras will be installed outside your window, and.. I think you can tell what else I was going to say.” Her eyes fell to the window you were standing next to, hardly getting a glimpse of Hobie before he put his mask on. All she could see was just his skin tone and the dim shine of his piercings, “Window is locked with a key he’s trusting me to keep.”
“Roxy, please..” You mumbled as you went to her, tone pleading and genuine, “You know this is worse than before, couldn’t you have told my dad to go easy? This is my first offense, I always was well behaved for hi-”
“You know as much as I do that these are your consequences, I should have never let you go out so many times.” She sighed in disappointment, directed to either you or herself as she continued, “I’m sorry but it's not that it’s your ‘first offense’, it’s the fact that you’ve gone out and behaved like a borderline slut with a man you know your father despises.”
“..The slut comment wasn’t necessary.” You commented as you looked away and crossed your arms over your chest. You knew she wasn’t wrong but this felt like, “This is overkill, dude.”
“Yeah well, say that to your father when he’s back to being able to look you in the eyes.” Roxxanne didn’t even seem to do it either by how she looked at you but not at you.
“Please, Please at least unlock the window so me and ho-” You pause, “me and him can just say goodbye?”
You knew this sounded dramatic but you knew your dad wouldn’t give you the chance to do anything until you were thirty, maybe longer if he keeps denying the fact that you aren’t a little girl anymore.
“You’re just so.. Dammit.” That was the first time you’ve heard Roxy come close to cussing, but you immediately forget that as you watch her take out a keychain from her pocket, you couldn’t help but grin at her singling out the key that opens the padlock of the locked window.
The padlock soon opened with a click, the window sliding open and Roxy stood aside as Spiderpunk crawled in, flopping on the ground and getting up casually with an awkward nod of his head as a greeting to the woman that let him in.
She looked him up and down before back at you, “Keep this quick, if your father finds this out you’re completely on your own.” Roxy said seriously.
“Thank you so fucking much!” You grinned before latching onto her in a hug, to which she loosely embraced you back. “You’re still on thin ice, alright?” She whispered to you before pulling back and patting your shoulders.
Roxy turned back towards the masked punk stood there, getting face to face–as much as she could with him towering over her–And spoke with a hint of threat. “You have no idea what you’re getting into, keep her safe or so help me god Mr. Osborn will know of everything done.”
“Yes ma’am.” Spiderpunk replied with a surrender gesture of his hand, “She’s in good hands.”
And with that, Roxxanne said something about how you two have an hour, keeping things PG, and so forth. Then, she was gone with a shut of the door behind her.
“..Seems like you were found out.” Hobie commented with a dry chuckle, making sure to lock the door before taking off his mask, soon being attacked with a hug by you, your face in his chest and your arms clinging to him tightly.
“It’s worse than before! There's locks on everything and theres- theres gonna be cameras everywhere, my dad managed to make this place hell even more than it already was.” You sobbed into him, making hobie tightly hug you back with his gloved hand cradling the back of your head.
“I’s alright dove, we can figure something ou’-” He gently began, using the tone he often had to whenever you got like this, but cut off by one of your choked sobs and continuing.
“He’s never yelled at me before, He always was patient and talked about things but it’s like I’m not even his daughter anymore! Treating me like some dog on a leash he thinks he can hit and make the leash tighter.”
You felt him tense, soon feeling him nuzzling into the top of your head, “Shh..shh, Wha’s this abou’ him bea’ing you like a dog?” His voice was over exaggeratedly calm, making you tense as well.
“No no no no no hang on,” You quickly back tracked, moving back to wipe your tears and look up at him, “He didn’t beat me I was just exaggerating..! He just slapped me and he didn’t do anything more than that nor would he ever.”
You were practically biting yourself in the ass at how you were defending the man that even you hated, but Hobie wasn’t the type of man to let anyone get away with hurting you, he already had enough reason to hate everything your father stood for.
“That son of a..” He trailed off and turned around, he would have beaten your dad into a pulp if you didn't grab his wrist to turn him around to look at you.
“Hobie, you know that this wouldn’t help if not make things worse.” You said to him while looking into his eyes, his face furrowed and tense in his moment of blind rage, soon, his fisted hands relaxed and he let out a breath before pulling you into another hug.
“Look, you’re my whole world and you know this place isn’ good for you.” He murmured into your soft hair, “Please.. Come wit’ me.”
You weren't able to think if its because of the need to try and go against your own father, or at how he seemed so genuine, but the idea of leaving everything you knew behind was too much. You just had to get the last word.
“Alright, I’ll do it.”
Hobie let out a breathless laugh, pulling back to cradle your face and look into your eyes, “Seriously? You mean tha’?” He beamed before kissing you, you could feel the grin on his lips as you amorously reciprocated.
You giggled and nodded, your hands moving to his chest to look up at him, “Yeah! Yeah, when do we go?”
“Within the next hour, pack whatever you can and- and I’ll get whatever we can sell, yeah?”
And with that, The next moments are a blur, you filling your pillowcase with any clothing you can that wouldn’t get you mugged, and Hobie filling another with everything you’ve bought with blood money. From old too-heavy tiaras, to rings, to necklaces you’ve worn once.
Hobie webbed the pillow cases shut and together, having you hold them while he focused on holding you and web slinging to his houseboat.
__________________________
From then on, You’re known as Emily brown.
Not as the daughter of a monster,
Not as the bratty girl with her life handed to her on a silver platter,
Finally your own person.
__________
YIPPEE
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#{☆insooks ☆}#insuke#across the spiderverse#hobie brown#insooks rambles#fanfic#spiderman#spider punk#hobie brown fanfiction#hobie brown imagine#hobie brown x reader fic
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October so far 🖤🎃👻🍂
#gots a bit left planned for this month#but it’s been pretty cool#haven’t gone leaf peepin’ like I do yearly but it’s okay#the little random adventures make up for it#Halloween#spooky season#haunts#salem#autumn#pumpkins#mine#trick r treat
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In fourth grade my class had a unit where we learned all about ships and sailing and sea shanties and then spent a day/overnight on a retired ship. We were split into different roles. I was in the galley team. Which was fun. But in retrospect I was probably put there because I was one of the quieter less athletic kids. BUT ALSO. I didn't get to see anything other than the main deck and I'm so pissed about it still!!!! My classmates got to mess with the ropes and tie knots and see the ship. I got to go down one flight of stairs for the historic tour section but nothing else!!!! Didn't get to stand under any of the other masts or see any cool views or go on any of the other decks I'm o|< little me missed out I would've loved to see more. They should have made sure all the kids got to experience more. They had us take night watch shifts of like half an hour, so like, we each were woken up separately and went and stood out in the cold and were given a journal to write in. I did like that part.
#rays random ramblings#one of the kids in the galley with me took on baking a cake by himself. didn't want help!#so like great we got to assign tasks and all do our own thing#but he fucked it up!!!! xD he used salt instead of sugar in our coffee cake it was awful!!! also hilarious though#one day my sister and I will go somewhere that does like historcal reenactments and fulfil our ship dreams#I haven't slept yet so this is.. words... might be incomprehensible#big boats!!!#three masted overnight adventure for FOURTH GRADERS#AND I SAW SO LITTLE#auHG anguish#the ropes team made a chair or something#and at the end of the trip there was a show of us getting to hoist up the school principal#and make demands!!!#ajdhahdhsjd#no homework for a week otherwise we wouldn't let him down#(ah but little me knew too that I was weird and kind of a social outcast#being put in the galey was like- ah- so they're putting me somewhere out of the way.#still had fun! but. ah x')#I'm not sure it was intentional from my teacher or even meant anything but it still felt like something)
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the doll factory plot is plotting... and im so intrigued right now. i'm not entirely sure of the plot as i vaguely remember the trailer of the show (don't ask why i want to watch). but silas reads as kind of unhinged. he's just giving me nice guy energy which yikes...
#myra reads the doll factory#random#tbh it does have a slow start! but it picks up after the tavern scene (ifyky)#i'm gonna read a little more but i will def try to finish it#im about a third of the way in#myra's reading adventures#also also i'm not entirely sure what to make of iris tbh
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I used to think that I loved characters over plot, and that's still true. But I can't love characters to the exclusion of plot, not without a lot of disappointment. Give me a great character, and I will love them to bits and adopt them as my special favorites. But if they aren't in a plot that makes sense, then I haven't been given a story. I have an action figure. I can think up characters that I like on my own. I want to see these characters doing things that are meaningful and make sense based on their personality and history.
I don't love a plot to the exclusion of characters. A well-constructed puzzle happening to faceless characters is going to feel empty. But I want the characters to do things that are believable, rather than stumbling randomly through senseless happenings, or being railroaded along a track of desired plot points. A plot doesn't even have to make total logical sense--I'm not going to sit there condemning a story because it doesn't line up with that one episode from five seasons ago, or because science doesn't work that way. But a plot does need to make character sense. The plot isn't something that happens to the characters. It's something that should flow from the characters, so even when they do something stupid or overlook something obvious, we still believe that they would behave this way, and then everything that happens in consequence feels meaningful. It feels earned. It feels like a satisfying and believable story. And it feels like the writers have done their job.
#adventures in writing#other random thought of the day#fair warning there are a lot of random thoughts in the offing#i've been thinking about plot since the latest kenobi episode got me thinking about how#a lot of things i like lately have amazing characters and less-than-stellar plots#and i miss being able to be satisfied by story#seeing the parallels#feeling the balance that comes from a well-constructed chain of setup and payoff#i haven't gotten a lot of that in the stuff i've watched lately#to my surprise when i was trying to think of a well-plotted recent tv show the one that rose to the top was star trek: prodigy#because it is built from character#(i still don't get what they're doing with dal)#(they railroaded him into a captain role with little story logic behind it)#(but everything about how the plot of the final episode plays out make sense and it's devastating)#(i was weeping during that scene in the finale)#it may be that it's been long enough that i've forgotten the plot holes but for now it seems like it holds up
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Random but wtf is going on with the comics? Why is the cowboy one #1 and the bane of blastaar one also #1? Are there two runs going on or something?
Oh it's because Marvel loves branding anything as #1 lol the cowboy one is the only current Guardians ongoing at the moment, with issue #2 coming out later in May. Bane of Blastaar was a one-shot and won't have any consecutive issues coming out directly related to it, think of it as a filler episode from an anime basically. In-universe it's set sometime after the end of Ewing's run and before the current ongoing.
Now there IS a current Avengers Infinity series featuring the Guardians currently going on Marvel Unlimited, it's set in the same vague point of time as the Blastaar one, it updates each Monday for the next few weeks I think? The Guardians seem to just be like guest stars featured in it though.
#lex thoughts#gotg thoughts#universe: 616#ask tag#sorry if this was sitting in the box for a bit i hadnt checked tumblr in a quick minute (i am mentally preparing myself for vol 3)#i thought the blastaar one was really cute even if it's just a little adventure. after ewing all i wanted was single adventures lol...#the unlimited comic i mentioned is kind of funny but. it's very mcu-ified guardians so beware if u dont like em that way (which is fair)#honestly all this weirdness with there being an ongoing set in the present (?) and random side comics set before that make me think like-#-marvel internal got really embarrassed that the team just finally got set up at the end of ewing's run (for like the 5th time)-#-just to immediately get disbanded again so they rushed to get some comics out to be like SEE!!! THEY GOT TO BE A TEAM BEFORE IT ENDED!!#but that's just my theory. maybe this confusion was the plan all along..?
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Ah, so this is it. We shall meet the final chapter in our story for our beloved Hargreeves family (at least TV wise). I think the biggest thing I'd want to see is just the original 7 Hargreeves together. I have MANY mixed feelings and thoughts about this, but they deserve a good ending so let's hope they get one
#I have MANY thoughts on this being the final season#mixed thoughts but mostly leaning towards negative#I am nervous for this final season based on how S3 was#hopefully it won't also be like a little kid trying to tell an epic adventure to their parent as they are hyped up on sugar-#and throwing in random plot points#not that I dislike Lila but I just want the og 7 back y'know but that probably won't happen#I have too many thoughts so I will eventually make a post so this is probably the slow start to me returning here 👍#my spite for S3 has been reignited by this final season announcement#tua#the umbrella academy#umbrella academy#tua s3
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The main reason I'm convinced the main plot of the mario movie will be the 'abusive' relationship between mario and luigi leading to luigi siding with bowser is because if that's NOT the main plot then I'm afraid what the fuck else they're gonna do.
#random thoughts#nintendo#mario#blease mr miyamoto blease make it a funny little soap opera#Luigi shows up on bowser's doorstep in the rain like 'i had nowhere else to turn'#there's a scene where luigi's being cornered by the boos which live in bowser's house and he's in the fetal position and shivering#when bowser turns up and scares them off#and luigi looks at him and there's a slow motion shot of bowser with like rose petals and shit#before bowser turns around and he just has the most pissed look on his face#he's not angry at luigi that's just how his face looks#he's a little ugly. as a treat.#my ideal mario movie is basically kind of like a mix between beauty and the beast and that one really fucked up mobile game#about the suicidal princess and the prince who died on his way to save her#and you just kind of listen to her cry for four days before she kills herself in the bad end#like half of the plot is mario on an adventure with his pals and the rest is luigi babysitting and vibing in bowser's castle#it's not necessarily a GOOD plot but it's FUNNY#yes in the mario movie which lives in my head the relationship between bowser and luigi is the greatest queerbait of all time what about it
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It’s Kes Voyager from Star Trek!
#if they're gonna sexify Kes they NEED to remember that she loves layering clothes#Kes strikes me as...'early 2000's fashion' if she were to wear human clothing#so I tried to make early 2000's futurism and also a bit hippieish thrown in there#I hope the result hurts your eyes#star trek voyager#star trek voyager Kes#I just don't buy that Kes would choose to wear a boring ol catsuit and heels or whatever they put her in#Kes#Kes art#st voyager Kes#star trek Kes#In my canon she leaves Voyager bc she wants to go off and do adventurers that'd have to be long detours#and also she doesn't feel she fits with conforming to starfleet rules...rules just don't really GEL with her anymore...she wants to#make her own rules!! So she leaves#and every so often they see her on a random little outpost or something and she hitches a ride with them to tell them stories and catch up#and then she's gone! And one day they just...never see her again
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some random mc screenshots to counteract the amount of angst i just wrote. mostly of me being stuck in weird places because of Claimed Chunks making it so im functionally in adventure mode at other people's bases
bonus screenshot of @aperture-science-sys drowning in the field. because death message testing. i think that was the reason?
#haunted ecosystem#i love that you can tell when ive been doing something depending on how full my inventory is. like.#im at home/at our base? my inventory is basically empty because its all put away or in backpacks#im out / was just adventuring? so much random crap. because my backpacks are full. i need to make more stack upgrades for my block bag lol#also my lavenders <3 its just a staple of my inventory#i always have lavenders with me since i both like how they look and also i keep needing to make waystones...#ive gotta run around and collect the ones ive accidentally abandoned. i'll have a *bunch* then#also i neeeeed to work on grinding for wither skeleton skulls#its just actually a pain in the ass and i need to just make a wither skeleton farm#i just. dont want to#however i also dont want to try and figure out if anybody has made one already and if theyre willing to let me use it#bc i think the only group with one is withers crypt and i am mildly terrified of them#im just a little guy who wants more hearts.... then im gonna start farming ghasts to respawn the dragon for *those* hearts#its a whole process. but also i should. probably finish enchanting my armor#ough. i still have to talk to people for that because i dont want to spend like four hours cycling villager trades because i dont want#to have to burn more armor because its ended up being cursed#i need to work on tinkers stuff just to recycle the cursed things. SIGH.#modded minecraft grind.#except my connection is so dogshit that the grind is actually just a Problem half the time
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Senshi is probably the most fandomized character in Dungeon Meshi, and while I don't exactly mind it, I do think he has more depth than that. I find all his little quirks and idiosyncrasies to be fascinating; he's very stubborn and set in his ways about things that seemingly don't matter, he thinks about things that other people don't, he has a deeply set value system that informs everything he does. He cares A Lot, like, this man cares So Much. That's the kind of person you have to be to drop everything to help a random group of adventurers save one woman. But because he feels so strongly about things, he can also be surprisingly immature at times (although he's also the character most likely to admit he was wrong about something). I think part of that is because he's lived in the dungeon on his own so long that he's not used to working with other people. He will extend empathy and friendship to almost anyone, but he does things his own way, and he doesn’t always feel the need to explain his way of thinking because again, he's usually on his own. He's both incredibly wise and kind of childish in ways that seem contradictory at first, but make more and more sense the more we learn about him. Major kudos to Ryoko Kui's writing and pacing to make that transition so seamless and have all those details from his backstory click into place perfectly. And on a wider thematic level, Senshi is kind of a perfect counterpart to characters like Thistle (or any other dungeon lord). Senshi understands the dungeon in ways that even its creator doesn't. Although everyone is scrambling to take control of the dungeon, Senshi is the one who actually takes care of it. He's the one who thinks about things like nutrition and proper sleep and the ecosystem, all those things that it's easy to ignore when you get swept up by the grandeur of it all. He's the most important character to have present in a story that explores life and death and hunger. His constant, invisible presence holds everything together.
#I'm not finished it yet so I don't want to make any big sweeping claims about what his story means in the greater context of the manga#but. I really like him so. Senshi thought dump#I really thought this was going to be shorter...idk if I really got what I wanted to say across but once I started writing I couldn't stop#dungeon meshi#dunmeshi#delicious in dungeon#senshi#senshi of izganda#edit: yeah I should probably tag this#dungeon meshi spoilers#shouldn't I
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Thinking about Yandere!Sumeru Boys and the sweet, lovely bartender who's become the talk of Sumeru recently.
After receiving the news of the Sage's downfall and Lesser Lord Kusanali's rescue, you, who'd been out venturing Teyvat to learn about its global gastronomy and arts, decide to return to your homeland and help your father's busy Tavern. The knowledge you've gained from your travels prove to be fruitful as Lambad's Tavern reaches a new peak of popularity. Though, not everyone's point of interest is the menu — no no, in fact, many have become frequent patrons simply to get a glimpse of the new face behind the counter.
You and Kaveh click almost immediately. Your shared views on arts and beauty is one thing checked off, but the way your actually understand him? Unlike most people when they hear his story, you're not quick to put a lable on him ; instead, you make him feel heard and normal for the very first time. Listen patiently and don't throw factual advice on how to fix his life. No wonder he poured out his entire life story to you, all on his first conversation. He's left wondering where you've been all his life as you share a portion of your own struggles, views on life and snippets of your adventures. To this day, Kaveh recalls the conversation along with your benign smile and feels his heart thump as if he's become a teenager again.
Every ensuing visit to the Tavern has his belief strengthen as well : you two must be soulmates. He's even started (half) jokingly calling you one as well, which never seems to move you the way he wants though as, all you do is adorably giggle and ask him to pay for his order. Oh well, he supposes that's an indication that you do not pity him solely because of his financial status. Kaveh's life had gotten a lot better with your presence ; he no longer drinks himself to oblivion, sleeps better than before and doesn't even pay heed to his roommate's sharp comments that'd otherwise end in a massive argument, thoughts preoccupied with what kind of trinket he could bring to impress you. For a brief period, Kaveh had felt like he'd finally found his light, his reason to keep living. He'd only wish he hadn't introduced his friends to you.
You first ‘officially’ met the dusty-rock-of-a-roommate of Kaveh (his words) when you took the responsibility of dropping him to his place of residence after the architect had passed out from taking a sip of the Sneznayan Fire-Water. You weren't sure what you were expecting from Alhaitham, but a talk over books that spiralled a little too late into the night and ended with him walking you back home certainly wasn't it. You can see where Kaveh came from, The Acting Grand Sage did not have the countenance that invited friendships. You'll have to thank your profound interest in all genres of books and an equal ease to share your opinions to not be at the recipient of that attitude. It takes you a little too much time to notice that since that night, the Scribe has found himself a second home in your radar. You see him at Puspa Cafe, the Grand Bazar, the streets and after a little while, even at your father's Tavern almost frequently. So much so, that calling him something of a friend might not be as far-fetched now.
In Alhaitham's defense, he's simply intrigued, it's not everyday he meets someone who can keep up with him. It took him only a glance at you to realize you're the person who has Kaveh blushing and giggling like a madman at random times. The architect's creepy behavior aside, at least, it seemed as though some of your sense of responsibility had rubbed off on him so, less headache for Alhaitham. You're easy to talk to ; granted, you don't always have agreements but that doesn't pose as an impediment from keeping the conversation flowing. In fact, you treat him no different ; neither his status nor his prolonged disappearances that'd no doubt affect anyone else can change your easygoing persona as he approaches you, the coffee and dishes you make are rather good too and— ah. Alhaitham understands now why Kaveh is so smitten with you.
Lambad's Tavern is a prominent destination for fans of Genius Invocation TCG, you like the game, too. But because of your duty, you can only resign yourself to watching from the counter as some rejoiced in victory and others had their heads in their hands from loss. It's entertaining to a degree, frustrating to another as you have to remain silent while the players make dumb choices. You digress, whatever they do is none of your business. But if you had to pick one group that produced the most entertaining show out of this game ; it'd be the friends Kaveh brought along with him. Most of the times, they'd just be reduced to Kaveh's ranting pillows and really, only one of them—and by that you mean the General Mahamatra who seemed to truly care for the game. You're curious about him, actually. He seemed so different from the rumours that were floating around. And thanks to Kaveh's impulsive announcement that you'd be dueling Cyno one night, you had the opportunity to satiate that curiousity — and flex a win against the master of TCG altogether.
To say Cyno was flabbergasted would be the understatement of the century. He'd repeatedly demanded for a second match that time (all the while Kaveh looked like he could die of pride) but you'd shut it off with the (not really) threat of charging extra for your lost time. Since then, he'd been hot on your tail, too. Trying to coax you into a second match with every strategy he can think of : bribing, bargaining, cracking awful jokes to befriend you — his hard work paid off, but the sight of a win against you still seemed to be far. At one point, those concerns were lost as you both simply found fun in each other's presence. Cyno, in the meantime, had noticed that your amiable personality was both a blessing and a curse. Do you not see the corrupt glints in their eyes? The wanton touches and disgusting saccharine lacing their words? No can do, they do not deserve your courtesy. Do not blame him for taking matters into his own accounts or show any semblance of concern after the personnel mysteriously disappear the next day ; its just a little favor for his TCG buddy.
Out of all of them, Tighnari took you the longest to get to know properly. Given his usually passive personality in the presence of others, no wonder he'd strayed a little from your attention. The forest ranger wasn't behind in knowing you, though. In fact, it seemed as though he had been picking up on clues his other friends were missing. Tighnari had been the first to take notice of your ennui, which he had surmised to be a result of all the people you have to deal with everyday. Turns out even you have your moments. One evening as Kaveh, Cyno and Alhaitham were preoccupied with debating over who-knows-what, Tighnari took the opportunity to approach you about it. He couldn't ignore the darkening circles under your eyes or the brightness in your optics dimming any longer — he's glad he did ; in truth, your life had gotten crazier than it was back when you were traveling, you'd confessed. You no longer felt truly...alone, even in moments that you're sure is securely private. Tighnari listened intently, for once the roles being switched. He sent hand-made remedies to help with your stress, frequently wrote to you to check your well being when he couldn't visit personally, anything within his power.
He felt sympathy for your state, such a precious person like you doesn't deserve this, you should be treated better, he could treat you better — now if only you're at arms reach to the forest ranger. Alas, for now he'd have to be content with this development. Tighnari has an inkling about who is, or are, responsible for your building misery. Does he intent to do anything with that knowledge though? Yes, coaxing you to his side, preferably.
The innocent, nameless wandering boy you'd taken with you on your return to Sumeru, suddenly returned home with a glowing anemo vision in the span of a few hours one fine afternoon. Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary though, he was still as glued to your person (though nowadays he seemed to venture out more than usual), he was still the harmless boy you'd grown accustomed to. So then, why did it feel like something was amiss? Was it how often he'd find himself at the brink of an angry customer's fist? Or was it because that only occurs when you leave the counter to get something and that same customer just so happened to have been pushing you for a date beforehand? Your suspicions always end up fleeting though, you can never even raise an eyebrow at the boy, not when he looks at you with those glossy puppy eyes. In the end, it's always the other man that's handed over to the guards, it's always the others, in general at the face of your displeasure — not Wanderer, never Wanderer. If only you could see the same grin he directs at the retreating men behind your unassuming back.
You never did regret letting him trail behind your person (except maybe the bombarding allegations from your family of him being your significant other, it took one whole week to convince them otherwise, after all.) ; he was sweet and so.. clueless, as if he were but a newborn child. Your heart couldn't resist the poor thing and that's what brought you to this situation. Wanderer revels in the others' jealousy at the sight of you two's closeness (who could guess this same man had tried to take over Sumeru). He can do many of the things your other admirers can only dream of ; lean on your shoulder, fall asleep on your lap, play with your hair as you prepare a drink, whisper things in your ear with a purposefully lowered voice and get away with anything. All is well with the lost boy you'd picked up from the last turn of your travels, it's just that, you can't quite shake off the feeling of a strange familiarity everytime you look at his otherwordly eyes.
what do you call this? a love hexagon? 🤔
[ au masterlist ]
#because i cannot wait for their official interactions anymore c'mon mhyyy#yandere#yandere genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#yandere genshin x reader#yandere genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#yandere scaramouche x reader#yandere wanderer x reader#yandere alhaitham x reader#yandere al haitham x reader#yandere tighnari x reader#yandere kaveh x reader#yandere cyno x reader#yandere cyno#yandere kaveh#yandere tighnari#yandere alhaitham#yandere al haitham#yandere wanderer#yandere scaramouche#yandere genshin impact imagines#yandere concepts#wanderer x reader#alhaitham x reader#tighnari x reader#scaramouche x reader#cyno x reader#kaveh x reader
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here are some preliminary sketches I had done in my sketchbook for the peepaw chilchuck comic.
I wanted to follow it up with some worldbuilding thoughts I had while working on it, if that sort of thing is interesting to anyone:
- it’d take place 5ish years post-canon
- I changed almost everyone’s hair to show time had passed. Chilchuck and Kabru were the most drastic (I COULDNT STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT LONG HAIR KABRU THAT KUI DREW), Marcille grew out her bangs, Senshi’s beard is slightly shorter, and Izutsumi’s hair is mildly longer. Laios and Falin give me the impression that they’re the brand of neurodivergent that’d pick one haircut and stick to it for the rest of their lives. I almost gave Laios facial hair but idk he’s gotten over his daddy issue enough for that.
- Emertim Chils: I tried to follow both the half-foot and dwarven naming conventions for the baby, so Emer- comes from “emerald” (dwarven names are often gemstones or ore) and -tim because Chilchuck’s father’s first name was Tim :) Dwarves don’t have family names, so Emertim would take Chils, same as Flertom. Usually they’re named after their father but I didn’t wanna name a random dwarf man. thank you Chel for helping name him 🫶💕
- Initially the idea that Chilchuck would keep an entire grandchild a secret was just a joke, but it made sense when I thought about it. I wonder,, would dwarf/half-foot couples have trouble conceiving? Because if so, I’d imagine Flertom may have lost a couple pregnancies. Chilchuck is already such a private person, and I don’t think he’d feel comfortable airing his daughter’s grief like that. They wouldn’t wanna tell anyone until they were sure this baby was gonna make it.
- For the above reason, Chilchuck would absolutely spoil this kid. Not that he wouldn’t have spoiled his grandkids anyway, but I think after all that stress, he’d be extra extra doting. He’d be letting him do things he’d never DREAM of letting his own daughters do. Completely different parenting style.
- I think he’s still too prideful to take advantage of Laios being King (sidenote: is Laios even wealthy??? does a kingdom that sprung up from a previously-sunken continent even have money?? what the fuck is their economy), but like,,, if Laios offered any gifts he wouldn’t exactly say no.
- Izutsumi surprisingly really likes the baby :3 she’d like to take naps with him and he’d like her purrs and she’d have a lot of fun playing with him.
- SENSHI. meemaw mode. That kid would grow up not realizing Senshi isn’t technically one of his grandads. He is FEEEEEDING this kid.
- LAIOS DOES GET TO HOLD THE BABY!!!!!! just. eventually. They don’t actually expect a Tarrare situation LMAO they just wait until the kid is a little less fragile and a little more mobile. I think Laios would be really good with toddlers.
- Chilchuck is very thankful Emertim’s half-foot genes kick in sooner than later because he was getting too big for him to carry.
- Emertim would probably get the extended lifespan. He and Marcille would get to stay friends for a very very long time :’)
- my personal headcanon is that Chilchuck and his wife decide to split. He still loves her and it’s probably still a bit mutual, but after four years of almost no-contact, they decide their communication issues aren’t working well for their relationship. Plus, the Adventurer’s Bible says Chilchuck is renting their old house out to family, and he’d feel bad kicking them out so he and wife could move back in. They’d still be on good terms, and would be good at coordinating when to babysit.
#do yall like this sort of post…?#my art#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#dungeon meshi spoilers#chilchuck tims
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AITA for accidentally kidnapping my best friend after making her daughter transgender?
I (?M-ish) was recently reunited with my best friend (53F) after many years apart. I'm kind of a free spirit and like to travel while living out of my car. She came with me for a bit (PURELY PLATONIC), but we got to a point where I realized we were so mixed up in each other it would kill us and we had to part ways. I kind of assumed she forgot about me and kept traveling and doing my thing. During that time apart I had a bit of a gender crisis and spent a few years living as a woman, which was an amazing experience but I ended up identifying with masculinity again anyway, so I looked pretty much the same as when we separated.
So I accidentally ended up back in her orbit and learned that, while we weren't talking, she ended up settling down and raising a family, including a lovely daughter (15F-ish). Her daughter is trans, which I only mention because it's relevant to the story. It turns out that my gender fuckery may have rubbed off on my friend a little, because her daughter is EERILY similar to me and even chose a name for herself from my past. My friend was not super educated on gender stuff before we met so its likely her daughter wouldn't have realized who she was if her mother and I hadn't codependently merged into the same person for a bit on our travels. Her whole family is super supportive but her grandmother (my friend's mother) kind of blames me both for putting her daughter's life at risk during our travels and getting her granddaughter bullied. She thinks if I hadn't been involved, her granddaughter wouldn't have realized who she was until she was in a more accepting place in life I guess? She also blames me because my friend donated a TON of money to charity in my name and the whole family is now struggling financially.
Anyway, we reunited and it ended up being super sweet. We decided to go for one last mini adventure in my car/house and visit her grandfather who I also used to be close with. She and her family made me swear up and down that we were JUST going to his house and nowhere else, but then she spilled some coffee on the console and we dematerialized to a random point in spacetime :/
#doctor who#IDK I THOUGHT IT WAS FUN#traveling in space and time is a metaphor for learning abt gender. to me#warlock wartalks#dw spoilers#dr who#the Star beast
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