#((my husband is still sick and work is killing us both

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Calming the Emperor God

Geta x wife! reader

warning : hurt/comfort, kissing, cuddling, mention of murder and sickness

Summary : Rome seemed to turn on their rulers, what Caracalla compensated with more Colosseum fighting Geta had to face reality as much as he thought he was divine, he alone couldn't control everything. The demand of his head was only the beginning as the emperor sought advice and care in the arms of his wife.

info : A work for Geta I just wanted to give him a long hug, enjoy reading ;)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marriage, when you were a ruler of a empire, it was important to have a wife after your appointment, someone you loved or not, someone who could give you an heir.

He had even less regard for his father than his brother, a man driven by empathy and kindness as well as hope, a weak man whose only great deed was to father him and Caracalla with his mother, nothing else. That was the only reason for his damned father's last acts, a marriage.

A marriage three years ago, on his twentieth name day, he took her as his wife, a young lady of his own age from a noble house of the united kingdoms under Rome.

He hadn't thought much of her then, but when he looked at the sitautioon now, she was more than just his love, she was his shield, the judgement of the people and a light that all kinds of people looked up to so that the people wouldn't rise up in revolt.

She was a pillar at his side who could lead Rome, advise Caracalla and be there for him at the same time…the only thing that had not been created in all this time was an heir.

An inheritance that in theory the two emperors had in each other, but with each passing day Geta saw how bad things were for Caracalla, ,,The Holy Roman Empire will belong to the world, but three deaths would mean its end" he had said shortly after their wedding, at first still indifferent to her, even disgusted by her failure to conceive and paranoid that she would betray him.

But none of this mattered when he saw how gentle she was with his brother, how good she was at managing the senate and how understanding she was towards him every day.

,,My doubts were never about you, my husband, a marriage of the dead is beyond our influence and your circumstance worries me more than my own" she had admitted when she realised how bad things were for the emperors.

Who ruled a world empire, how easy she had had it, several siblings, no illnesses, her parents a long life and security, everything Geta and his brother didn't have.

Both had hardly received any training in warfare, politically she hardly knew what to do and they had no connection to the people.

From the moment they were born, they had already come too close to the sun and would never raise their wings again. She was a woman, a princess, aware of her role as a mother, but if she couldn't even be that, she would do anything to support her husband.

Taking her eyes from the marble floor that lay cold beneath her sandals, she looked back at her husband Geta presenting new proposals for the military, improvements and enhancements to a Senate that seemed barely interested.

They were strategies and proposals for which Geta had spent hours and nights in the library with her, he was trying so hard for his people, or at least for the world for now, the dream of a Rome that covered the world, it wasn't fair that the senate consisted only of fake snakes, but you couldn't kill them either.

No one is interested but us she thought and sat down again on Geta's throne when she heard a giggle next to her.

Caracalla was once again more than just bored by all this and began to play with his fingers, seeing that Geta gave her a quick glance and an unsaid ‘thank you darling’ seemed to come from his eyes, she rose to take care of Caracalla.

As much as the presence of both emperors was required, Caracalla was disturbed by the introduction of the laws the blond was probably about to rise herself, she put her hand on his shoulder, ,,We should leave Geta alone, how about a game?" she asked in a whisper and saw the grin widen. Already sending Caracalla forward.

She bowed to Geta who had paused in his speech, allowing everyone a brief moment to think, ,,I'm already longing for your liberating kiss of my sorrows" he murmured to her before placing a kiss on her cheek, a face with a ‘divine’ countenance looking back at her before she withdrew from the senate.

Once again, her god had to try to cope on his own, an event that occurred weekly and took its toll on him, for what was an emperor without preparation since childhood?

He was nothing.

Footsteps followed Caracalla, who was already pulling out his favourite figurines from a wicker basket, ,,The conquest of Rome with the crucifixions of the Christians!" he announced and she clapped as he told her everything in meticulous detail.

Not a game in the sense, but something amusing for him, especially when he could stab the little figures and she had to make the death noises that he always found extremely sweet, ,,Your memories are unfathomable and fascinating," she said and tapped him on the forehead.

He could hardly remember what was served for dinner yesterday, but he seemed to know such a battle going back hundreds of years completely by heart, it was the madness you couldn't control.

But that didn't matter because, apart from the battle, they played together with Dundus and in the afternoon she had to sing Caracalla a lullaby because otherwise he wouldn't go to bed, otherwise he would only cause more ‘problems’ like a small child.

One thing that hardly bothered her anymore she knew it would give Geta less to worry about and she had a few more hours of peace and quiet in which to organise her own things, ,,Sleep well little king" she whispered as she closed the door to his room and with a sigh made her way back to her own room.

Knowing that the meeting in the senate would take a long time she returned to her art of the gods, knowing that only they could help her and her family Appolo I pray to you for healing and beauty over my brother-in-law Caracalla and husband Geta she heard her own praying voice in front of her altar to Appolon the model for Geta.

In all the golden clothes he wore, even the make-up was dedicated to the god, but the gods seemed to have abandoned the brothers since the birth and not given her a blessing.

She spent the next few hours embroidering, writing and reading books, hoping to get advice from former emperors on how to cultivate fields to increase yields, which were getting lower and lower.

This was bad for the population of Rome, the army and the imperial family itself, who had to cope with all this without falling into the madness that Caracalla was making worse and worse.

The goblet of water next to her was refilled every now and then and the lamps and torches in her room were turned on by the servants when the sun had long since reached the horizon, she knew that the discussion in the Senate had to come to an end.

She was about to roll back the parchment and place it on the table when someone knocked on her door.

,,Yes?” she said, but instead of her beloved she only found a servant who bowed and replied, ,,Emperor Geta wishes to see you, he insists that you dine with him. His brother Emperor Caracalla has already been taken care of” the message read.

She sent the servant away with a wave of her hand and rose herself more hastily than she had intended and immediately headed for his chamber, which was only a corridor away.

So Caracalla is sleeping well it flashed through her mind casually as she realized that he had probably taken care of him as well. Geta was once again doing a lot more than he was supposed to, another reason why she loved him so much.

Stopping in front of the large double wooden door, the guards bowed before they opened the door for her and she was finally back with him, ,,Geta dearest I see you again,” she said happily and automatically went to the table where she had expected him to be for dinner but he wasn't there.

Turning around as she heard a sniffle she saw a golden curly head standing on the balcony, he was overlooking the city but ewa san his posture made her falter ,,Geta? Is everything alright?” she asked as she stepped out into the cool night and stood behind him, her fingers carefully resting against his back.

He was tense, trembling slightly but whether it was from the cold or the excitement she couldn't tell, ,,No one...none of these philistines listened, it led to nothing,” he finally said slowly as he turned to face her, the moon shining above him, the cold god watching over God's representation on earth.

The make-up on his face smudged, the golden light clothes wrinkled and not smooth and his blond hair completely disheveled. He did not have the madness of his brother, but as the sole ruler of an empire, such a burden lay heavily on him alone. ,,My husband, you know I couldn't be prouder, don't you?” she asked the superfluous question but knew he needed it.

The next moment he turned to her with a sigh and grasped her hands, she could see the watery eyes even in the faint moonlight, ,,The feelings are the same...but an emperor without his senate only with enemies and no support as it seems...is neither god nor man he is nothing” he finally spoke the truth and embraced her a little more strongly, slightly painfully and yet seeking help.

She understood him, understood him from the bottom of her heart, a pain, a helplessness she knew only too well.

Putting her hand on his cheek and looking at him for a moment, he entangled her in a kiss, she felt his hand at her side running over her hip, ,,Love you” she heard the murmured words as they broke away, as this wonderful fallen god looked at her so full of grace and love.

Her heart was bound with his as the brass rings made a soft muffled sound as their hands met again, the small smile on the god's lips as he looked at his love.

,,You are the most important thing to me and to Caracalla and I as your beloved swear to you that this will not be the end,” she assured him and saw the love that showed in the darkly painted eyes.

She saw him look away at Rome, the city behind him, his home and the empire that belonged to him, saw the nod, heard the intake of breath as he pulled her into another kiss. he may be destitute but he would never lose his family, his love, Geta knew that.

,,We'll show them together," he promised and led her next to him, leaving his hand linked with hers and seeming to promise her not only Rome, but the whole world, because together the imperial family of Rome would be able to do anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@potatoesenpaii , @thatnerdliv , @scorpiongirlsthings , @pxnx-kk

@the-a-word-2214 , @peakygirl1919 , @k-yurieee

[yanderefarm]

what if scenario - ares & silvan

cw;; gore, blood, blood drinking, dehumanization, pet play

i got this idea in my head a while ago and i knew i had to write it... i think these two are similar? somewhat. i think ares would see himself in silvan sometimes. he can share a little bit. a little bit.

you and ares have been together for a millennium, an eternity of domestic bliss. every day you find new reasons to absolutely love your wife. recently your reason was because of how kind he was to take in a sickly human pet. see, in the past he's been resentful and hateful to humans and when it came to the idea of a pet he was far too possessive of you for that. so when you brought the pathetic sick human to your home for the first time you assumed that you would have to spend a lot of time convincing him to at least let you bring the human back to full health. instead he'd been the one to suggest you two keep the cute thing as a pet.

ares loves you, you're the only thing in the forsaken world that still matters and the fact that you promised him your eternity fills him with endless joy. so when he saw you carrying that disgusting human filth into your shared home he felt his anger and jealousy burning in his heart. he almost killed the pathetic creature right there. but he couldn't bring himself to do it in the end, not when you were so concerned for the thing's well being. your kindness is one of your most attractive features. so he let it stay, indulging in your cute loving instincts and getting an odd joy out of seeing you want to help someone. that was before the stupid thing got well enough to move around.

you were out of the manor when the dumb human wandered into the dining room while ares was feasting. ares was more bloodthirsty than you so whenever you were gone with work he'd have a nice eccentric meal of medium rare human steak and the sweetest blood wine. with the addition of the dead human in the center of the table it was a horrific sight. but the little pet didn't flinch his cold olive eyes staring at ares with boredom.

"where is master y/n..?" he didn't say it particularly disrespectfully but it still peeved ares.

"he's abandoned you to my whims." ares spoke with an air of arrogance and cruelty he only reserved for his prey.

ares was surprised when those cold human eyes turned darker. there was something familiar about his gaze, the emotions present resonated with ares's heart. he used to look the same way before he met you, he wandered through life like a true corpse. the idea that this little human was like him in any way didn't repulse him as much as he thought it would.

"do you want to fill the void in your heart with my husband?" ares's words were bitter but the human didn't flinch.

"i wouldn't dare to disrespect you, master ares." the human lowered his head respectfully but the gesture was empty.

ares took a sip of his wine. "if i were to give you permission?"

for the first time there was a spark of something almost like hope deep in the human's eyes. "i would do my best to please you both."

"then I'll give you the chance. you can act as our pet but if you step out of line then..." ares gestured to the table. the human barely looked at the corpse in front of him before he nodded.

so when you came back home your beautiful wife suggested that you keep the little human as a pet. he got to drink up all your praise and affection while also keeping an eye on your pet and keep him from getting arrogant. your pet, apparently named silvan, was so obedient and loyal to you both he would follow any order no matter how demeaning.

one night after the preservation procedure your lovely wife wanted to surprise you with something, he'd asked you to wait in your shared bedroom while he got your surprise ready. so you were sat on your bed, eyes fixed on the door. it felt like an eternity of anticipation until it finally opened and ares walked in wearing one of his frilly pink robes. wrapped around his hand was a long red leash and your jaw went slack as ares tugged it further into the room revealing silvan. silvan was dressed in a set of dark green lacey lingerie complete with a pair of garters and black silk socks. there was even a red collar with a little ribbon around his neck that the leash was attached to. silvan was on his hands and knees crawling into the room as ares directed him.

"sit pretty." ares ordered.

silvan picked himself off his hands, sitting on his knees with his thighs spread open. you could see from his new position the outline of his cock pressing against the tight lace and you could hear his eager heart pounding in your ears. you were completely awestruck at the sight. you could feel yourself getting hard and your fangs starting to hurt. you were so transfixed you hadn't even noticed ares come up besides you until he dragged your face to look at him. when you took in your beautiful wife's face he was looking at you so lovingly.

"we're going to have so much fun."

[jay72664]

Winter

TW: Small mention of Dazai’s su-c-dal tendencies near the end.

“You do this every year.”

Dazai just groans in response.

“And every year you end up having fun.” Chuuya continues.

“And, I end up horribly sick.” Dazai says, peaking out from the bundle of blankets he’d wrapped himself in to defend himself against the cold.

“You wouldn’t end up horribly sick if you didn’t keep eating the snow, and taking your coat off.”

“Yosano dared me too!” Dazai exclaims.

Chuuya rubbed his face. “Osamu, it’ll be fun, you can’t just stay inside all winter.”

“Tell that to a bear.” He buries his face back in the blankets.

“Fine. But I’m going back out there.” Chuuya turns to leave, knowing full well Dazai won’t want to be left alone.

Just as he thought Dazai peaks his head out of the blankets again. “You’re gonna leave me all alone?”

“Yeah, I wanna go enjoy the snow while it’s here.” He looks back at Dazai.

“But it’ll be snowing for months.” He grumbles.

Chuuya just shrugs in response. “I’m not about to spend all my time inside.”

The brunette glares at the shorter man, but relents. “Fine, I’ll go get my stuff.” He climbs out of the pile of blankets, heading to go get his winter gear.

“Good boy.” The ginger calls after his husband, voice cocky, and even without looking, Dazai knows he’s smirking.

“Shut up.” Chuuya doesn’t miss his blush.

Dazai pretended to pout as they walked through the snow filled town, but by the time they’d made it to the park he was practically rolling in it.

Then he threw a snowball at Chuuya.

So of course Chuuya retaliated.

“Using your ability is cheating.” Dazai exclaims, hiding behind a mound of snow.

“There are no rules in a snowball fight.”

Dazai snuck away behind some of the trees while Chuuya thought he was still behind the snow mound.

Then he tackled Chuuya and they both went rolling down the small snow covered hill.

They both were laughing when they made it to the bottom, Chuuya practically lying on top of Dazai.

“Idiot.” He chastises breathlessly.

“From where I’m lying I made the right choice.” Dazai remarks with a flirtatious wink.

“Pervert.” The ginger states, tone laced with affection.

He bends down slightly to capture his husband’s lips against his own, pulling back long before the taller man would have.

“Your lips are cold.” Chuuya comments cheekily.

Dazai shoves him off with an eye roll. “Oh, are they?” He brushes snow at him.

“H-hey!” Despite the volume of Chuuya’s voice, he wasn’t upset; quite the opposite, he was laughing.

Dazai was too.

He doesn’t find himself caring about the cold.

Or worrying about work.

Or thinking about new ways to kill himself.

No, he’s quite happy to just be here in the moment with the man who single handedly manages to make him want to give living a chance.

[askdiscordwhooves]

This update was drawn by me, @jitterbugjive

I want to address one thing that I KNOW some people are going to complain about because they've already complained about if it would happen, and that’s The Doctor and Derpy getting together in the end. I understand the concerns. This is in no way meant to say ‘your abusers will eventually change for the better if you just say the right things to them’. This isn’t that kind of story. These are special circumstances that DO NOT EXIST in real life where the abuser was under MAGICAL mind control. That’s not who he actually is and when he’s himself he’s not remotely an abuser. He is safe from having a relapse, the curse is gone and over with because the core Discord was killed while the fragment left over in their universe has been reformed.

 Real abusers are not under any kind of puppetry or mind control when they do what they do, and no not even getting drunk counts as this because when someone is an abusive drunk they’re still choosing to get drunk when they are well aware of what they do when under the influence. If The Doctor did any of this abuse on his own terms, I wouldn’t have let them get back together. I’m an abuse survivor, I know better than that. When you try to compare completely fantasy scenarios that can’t happen in real life to.. Well, real life, you’re kind of reaching at straws at that point. Besides, this relationship wasn’t automatically better just because he returned to normal. Both of them suffered damage and trauma and both needed to navigate around it to be able to trust one another again. If there’s any kind of comparison to make, it’d be more like a loved one suffering a psychotic episode and doing horrible things they’d never do in their right mind. And some people are able to understand and forgive, while others are not. The pain of having a psychotic episode and saying and doing things that hurt people is really hard to overcome, it’s hard to trust yourself and it can be hard to make amends. But a psychotic episode does not dictate who a person is. It just doesn’t. And that’s the closest thing to reality this story is. I tried to handle this as best I could, because in my line of work recovery is the most important thing and I understand that someone coming out of a bad episode needs support and compassion (Unless they’re a terrible person in general) and there have been extreme cases where perfectly good people end up going as far as murder- even murdering their own children, but their loved ones are able to reason that they were sick and they are going to suffer great pain upon realizing what they’d done, and they are going to seek help. Maybe you wouldn’t be able to forgive someone who did terrible things in a psychotic state, and that’s within your right, but it doesn’t mean people who can forgive are any less valid. Listen, if a husband can be capable of not blaming his wife for killing their kids in a psychotic state (a very real event that happened rather recently, simply google “wife psychosis news killed children husband forgives” and you’ll find it), it's perfectly reasonable that someone can forgive someone who was under magical mind control.

If you are in a physically abusive relationship, you need to get out of it. The likelihood of this person changing for the better is extremely low, and you can’t cling to the idea of the rare few people who manage to work through these kind of things. Those are very special circumstances and in my opinion if there’s a relapse into violence after making genuine efforts to change, that should be the end of it once and for all. It shouldn’t be happening to begin with, it should not be tolerated. You matter, you deserve to be treated with kindness and compassion. Never let anyone tell you or make you feel otherwise. Please take care of yourselves, and DO NOT use this story as a basis for how to manage your own relationships, no matter how much you might think you see yourselves in it. This is fiction, and the scenarios in this story do not happen in real life. If you can’t discern reality from fiction, that is all on you, not me.

[devilfic]

Do you still make Batman x reader? If yes, could I request a "reader figures out Bruce Wayne is Batman"?

Thank you!

❝honeymoon❞

parts: next plot: 'til death do you part. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce. words: 760.

a/n: a little something quick that I thought of!

Recognizing that you had agreed to this, you had been prepared to accept anything. An affair, a drug addiction, secret ties to the mafia overlords like high society always suspected. That was your job as Bruce's spouse: contractually obligated to be okay with it and never let anyone find out about it. Whatever it was.

Even now, as your brain short circuits and the floor feels like you're about to sink right into it, you're looking for ways to be okay with this, and he's looking at you like he wants to kill you.

It's a fleeting look. One second there, the next vanished. Neither of you say anything but there is a world of things being felt, you're certain. One of you has to budge. "This... isn’t what I was expecting."

But Bruce doesn't laugh (and you'd never expect him to, not in your presence). He stands there, heaving slow breaths to calm himself down, the cowl still conspicuously trembling between both of his hands. He could've tossed it or let it go but it's almost like you've frozen him solid.

"Where did you get that?" Is all he demands, eyes trained on the key glimmering in your hand now. "The doormen have orders to-"

"To not let me in? I know. I had the key made myself. Your doormen are easy to persuade with the right amount of money."

Bruce's lip twitches and he scoffs. "I won't tell anyone," you assure him, about 75% convinced of it yourself, "It does me no good to have extra eyes on me, and I'm sure you've got contingency plans in place were I or anyone else to expose you. You were always very good about that. Plans."

"Of course you won't. Your mother wouldn't approve of the disruption in cash flow."

Your eyes narrow. "I am not interested in what my mother wants."

"Why not? She's a part of this marriage, too. Isn't she?"

"Can we talk about the suit?" Bruce stiffens when you bring back attention to the compromised position you'd found him in. "I have questions, and I suppose if you want me to be good at lying about your... hobby, you'll have to prep me."

"I think the less you know, the better. Personally."

"The 'my husband's just busy with work' spiel is getting old, and people are already starting to talk about us living apart. Now, when I agreed to marry you," you watch him flinch as you take a step forward, "I promised that I would be with you in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, 'til death do us part. Your business is my business. Your secret," within arm's length of his cowl, you wrench it from his grasp and he relents rather easily, "is my secret. I will take it with me to the grave so long as you keep up your end of the bargain."

Up close, you take in the black paint smeared over his eyes, a fitting backdrop for his stunning eyes so cool. The fire in the hearth flickers off of them, reflecting back at you as you stand but inches apart.

Just as you stole his cowl, Bruce steals your key. He holds it up in the palm of his glove, "You want to move in."

You hum, "It would help with appearances. And my mother would be pleased."

"I thought you weren't interested in what your mother wants."

"I'm not, but she's interested in you, and given tonight's revelation... I think you'd like someone keeping her nose out of your business."

You punctuate your point with a touch to his chest, palm laid flat over his heart and the several layers of iron-clad padding in front of it. His hair falls into his eyes as he looks down at it, then back at you. There's discomfort there but... something else. Resignation, you'd wager. Defeat. You almost sigh in relief when it dawns on you that you've—rather miraculously—won this battle going in completely blind.

Later, it will dawn on you (or plummet on you) just what you've witnessed tonight. Just what you've agreed to. Just who you've married.

Bruce peels your hand away, placing the key in your palm before releasing it like a burning stone. "There are guest rooms on the second floor." He pauses when you're not fast enough to school your expression, his mouth turning down into a scowl, "This changes nothing else." And he stalks away.

Nothing else. This changes nothing else, but if anyone were to ask, the honeymoon was going great.

[thecapricunt1616]

Hello all I’m still working on my requests daddy Carmy has just been taking over my fucking brain.

I’ve been seeing the trend on tik tok of wives asking their husbands questions about their babies it just got me thinking how Carmy would KILL this challenge and he would be super proud of himself because he’s so competitive I think it would go something like (Drabble below)

You walk out onto the patio of your gorge house where he’s in sexy daddy mode cooking breakfast on the little black stone grill while he drinks his coffee and you’re like -

“Babe I saw this video about this dad he didn’t know anything about his baby but I know you know cause you’re an awesome dad can we show the people what a good dad you are?”

and ofc he gets all blushy and is like “I’m not a good dad because I know stuff about my kid but I love talkin’ bout’ em so you can ask me questions sure.”

So you start off easy “What kind of formula do we use for cub when I’m taking a break?”

He answers straight away “Yellow one Enfamil neuropro I’m like 99% sure it’s in a yellow container”

“Correct and how many naps does he take a day?” You ask and He chuckles

“Uhm well when he’s bein’ good he’ll take 2 er 3 even if he’s doin’ a lot ‘er he’s sick, but we can usually only get one outta him.” He said while shaping the pancake batter into little Mickey Mouse shapes

“He gets being a bad sleeper from his dad, and what time does he usually nap?”

“Ye’ but he gets the attitude from you. We try gettin’ ‘em down at 12:30ish 1 but he usually fights us and he doesn’t go down until 2” he teased

“What brand and size diaper do we use?” You panned the camera down as he sprinkled blueberries on top of the batter

“Huggies - you like the snug and dry ones - he likes the snug and dry ones cause the box has Mickey on it- and he’s size 4 I think - ye’ 4 now cause the 3’s were lookin uncomfortable - are you filming my hands?”

You laughed, blushing a bit having been caught “sorry you have nice hands, how does he like to be held?” You moved the camera back up

“Uhhh depends? Is he tired is he upset is heee-“ he questioned

“Mm puttin him down f’bed” you said

“Ohh lil’ man likes the football hold” he demonstrates “likes to be all curled up here in my arm like a football and I’ll give ‘em his bottle. But w’you he wants t’fall asleep eating” he said and you smiled big at how attentive he was

“You got an A, I knew you would” you said and he grinned proudly

“That was it? Cmon! Those are easy gimme harder questions then that!” He chuckled

“Hmmm… alright-“ you think for a moment “oh! What’s his favorite movie”

“Monsters inc and monsters university” he said without missing a beat “he goes nuts he loves it he makes us do scary feet with ‘em” he laughs a bit at the thought

“Also correct, what abouttt…his favorite-“ he cuts you off

“Animal? A Bear” he smirks and you both laugh

“Okay what makes him laugh every time?” You asked

“Ohhh hmmmm…” he thinks with a big grin “well there’s a lot- oh well I’m gonna get you that always makes him crack up, also coughin’ if anyone coughs kid is done for” you giggle

“Which is why he is always wakin’ up laughin’ when you cough up a lung in the middle of the night after coming in after a cigarette” you teased and he laughed a bit

“Id rather him wake up laughin’ then cryin it’s easier to go in there and read to em till he falls asleep” he said

“Oh! That’s a good one- what’s his favorite book?” You ask

“Brown bear brown bear what do you see” he smiled “or Goldie locks, but he likes it better when you read that one to him” he said and you heard him squealing over in his playpen happily

“See he agrees doncha little bear?” He coo’d adorably over at him as he bounced up and down

“Dada dada dada dada” he babbled happily and lifted his arms, golden curls like Carmys of course falling over his forehead.

Of course carmen couldn’t deny his little guy so he walked over, picking him up and holding him on his hip and came over to resume cooking

“ you win this challenge bear you crushed it” you told him and your son is just so smitten and happy, cuddling up to Carmy and sucking on his pacifier contently

You post the video ofc it goes viral bc he’s Carmen but also becomes dilf of the year all the ladies in the comments simping over his sexy muscley arms and his tattoos and his ability to hold a baby and flip pancakes at the same time, everyone’s heart melting at the end of the video when your son pointed at the pancakes and went “mi-tee” and Carmy smiling telling him “you’re right cub! Such a smart little man. That’s Mickey Mouse. We gonna watch Mickey house while we have breakfast mm? With mommy?”

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike: Sick Day

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable. Just some fluff about how our murderous couple would take care of each other. And of course the rest of the gang has to “help.”]

[One shot, word count 2731, Cw: mild nudity?]

—————

You woke up, aching from head to toe. Despite Alastor being right next to you (the man radiated heat) and the duvet, you were chilled. A sudden coughing fit made you wish for some tea.

Crap. You were sick.

“Mmm, cher?” Your ears must be clogged too. Your husband’s voice sounded staticky and a bit distant, as if you were listening to his radio broadcast. You started to reply but another coughing fit interrupted you.

Another try. “Alastor, good-“ you tried to greet him but you cough didn’t stop.

He sat up and gently put the back of his hand to your forehead. His hand looked a little funny. Did you two not clean up after a kill last night? Maybe that’s why you felt so awful. “Ah, mon petit coeur, you’re sick. Best you stay in bed today my dear.”

“Cher,” you managed to croak out. There went any thoughts of performing tonight. “Your hair is all red and-“ you paused to cough “-there’s twigs in it! Didn’t we wash up last night?” You reached up to brush the twigs away. He was so careful about washing blood off yet his hair must have been soaked with it.

“What?” Maybe the two of you had been up very late; his eyes looked bloodshot too. “Y/N, what are you…?” He trailed off as you got a look at your hand. Goodness, you were still covered in blood too! “Ah, mais non cher. We’re in Hell. Remember my dear?”

“I know I feel awful-“ you said around coughs “-but saying this is Hell is a bit much Alastor.”

He grasped your hand. “Y/N. We’re dead my dear. We have been for almost a century.” He gently brushed a sweaty lock of hair from your face. “We really are in Hell, cher.”

Oh. That wasn’t your ears being clogged up. The Radio Demon. His voice was just like that now. “Fuck.” You flopped back onto your pillow, shrike wings spreading out limply.

“Hmm, I don’t believe either of us would be up for that,” your husband said mildly.

You grumbled. “Isn’t being in Hell punishment enough? Getting sick on top of that seems a bit much.” You did your best to focus your magick. A little silver halo of wind formed above your head to make a cooling breeze.

As you dozed, Alastor busied himself in the kitchen. Shortly he returned with a tray of food and tea. The tea had a generous helping of honey, the bowl of grits was one of your comfort foods and was easy to eat. After making sure you were settled, he left to inform Charlie and the hotel’s residents of the situation.

Unbeknownst to you, once informed that you were ill, Charlie responded with the expected sympathy at first. Then she gasped and launched to her feet. “That’s it! That will be perfect for today’s activity!”

“Say what now?” Alastor’s voice scratched at her sudden enthusiasm.

“We can work on helping Y/N feel better! Hey everyone!” She bounced up and down, waving excitedly at the residents. “Today we’re going to work on ‘helping someone in need!’” Alastor’s eye twitched as she started making plans.

“Sweetie, what’s this all about?” Vaggie asked as she got to the main floor. By then the little group was all gathered in the parlor.

“Y/N is sick sooooo this is the perfect opportunity to work on ‘helping others!’ Being selfless and helping others feel better is sure to help on the path to redemption! So I want everyone to start brainstorming how to make Y/N feel better.” She dashed over to a pile of paper, saying she was sure she had notes about what to do when someone is sick. Alastor’s eyelid continued to twitch.

Vaggie, ever the perceptive one, noticed his irritation. “Charlie, sweetie, did you make sure Alastor and Y/N are okay with this?”

“Right! Alastor, can we all help you take care of Y/N until she’s feeling better?” She clasped her hands together as she looked up at him. Begrudgingly he agreed to ask if you were up for it.

You were sipping your tea, letting the warmth soothe your throat. “I suppose I don’t mind,” you said, surprising your husband as he cleared away the tray. “It’s more interesting than staying in bed all day.”

“If you insist my dear. May I?” He held out his arms to scoop you up at your agreement. “Although you will be right back up here if those misfits go too far.” You chuckled as you curled up in his embrace. Or you tried to, but ended up coughing.

He sighed and carried you down to the parlor. You could hear Charlie cooing at the sight of the Radio Demon gently bringing his wife down the stairs.

One thing you’d come to find out in your afterlife was that your animal traits came to the fore at strange times. One of which was when you weren’t feeling well or recovering from an injury. You preferred being in something more like a nest than a bed at those times. So Alastor snapped his fingers and a pile of overstuffed pillows manifested on the ground.

You shivered as you settled in. “I want the duvet cher.”

“Oh oh! We can do that!” Charlie waved her hand widely. “Angel, Pentious, this is a great way to start!”

“Very well then! Minions! Let us fetch the lady’s blanket for her!” The snake demon slithered to your suite, eggs chattering as they followed along. “‘S called a duvet…” you mumbled sleepily. Once you were wrapped up, your day being a target for ‘assistance’ began. Alastor wasn’t about to leave you alone with them, so he settled into the nearby wingback chair.

Angel disappeared and returned wearing a skimpy nurse’s outfit, complete with thigh high stockings. “Alright toots, Nurse Angel Dust is here to make you feel all better baby.” He pulled a thermometer out of his chest fluff and popped it into your mouth. The thermometer beeped rapidly and he took a look at the reading. “Oh shit, you really are sick.”

You stared at him blankly; Alastor’s eye twitched and his smile twisted in annoyance. “Yes. Yes I am. Thank you for the assessment.” Angel held up a finger and dashed off. He returned with an ice pack, lozenges, and an extremely phallic shaped popsicle.

He plopped the ice pack on your head and popped the frozen treat in your mouth just like he had with the thermometer. “There you go, sweet cheeks, that’ll help your throat. I’ll get you somethin to eat.”

“No need! Doctor Pentious is here with the cure for the lady’s illsss.” Pentious slithered up, dressed in a white coat with a head mirror strapped on. The egg bois had matching outfits and were carrying reflex hammers, tongue depressors, and a bone saw. One had a highball glass ready. Pentious produced a dark colored bottle labeled as Dr. S. Pentious’ Hellish Cure All! For all aches, pains, coughing, toothaches, cramps, and gunshot wounds.

He poured the red tinted dark liquid out. You could swear it smoked in the glass. Before he could hand it to you, Alastor grabbed the glass and tossed it into the fireplace. The glass shattered and the liquid evaporated in the flames, making a puff of skull shaped smoke. “No patent medicines for my darling, chum.”

“What?! It works perfectly for my minions!” Pentious looked offended.

“Your minions are disposable. Y/N is not.” You could see his antlers stretch as his annoyance grew.

“Ooooookay, that’s a good start! Angel, Pentious, how about you two make something for her to eat?” Charlie shoved both of them out towards the kitchen. Thankfully, Alastor calmed down as they left. You continued eating your popsicle, deliberately not thinking about how it looked while he relaxed into the chair with his eyes closed.

“At least they mean well, cher,” you reminded him. He cracked open one eyelid at you, clearly annoyed by everything in existence.

Just as you finished the popsicle (it did help soothe your throat) Husk walked up. “Here, this should actually help.” He held out a medicine cup, with a dose of syrupy liquid in it. “Actual medicine, none of that snake oil crap.” He also had a glass of whiskey for Alastor. “Figure you need something to take the edge off.”

“Perceptive as always Husker,” he sipped gratefully and added, “although I may need more than one of these if this keeps up.”

“I’ll keep ‘em coming boss. Better than you rip our only residents into pieces.”

Husk kept providing glasses of water for you and whiskey for your husband. You vaguely heard some metallic banging and voices from the direction of the kitchen, but nothing really distinct. Eventually Angel and Pentious returned with soup. Chicken noodle, with enough spice to clear your sinuses. The two of them regaled you with how they cooked it, each trying to claim they did more than the other.

Finally Vaggie stepped in. “Look it doesn’t matter which one you dumbasses made it if she doesn’t get to have any because you keep arguing about it. So shut up and let her eat it before it’s cold.”

“Fiiiiiiiine,” Angel leaned over to you with the bowl. “Open wide toots,” sounding way more sensual than any nurse should be.

You grabbed the bowl. “I can feed myself Angel.” Fortunately the soup was pretty good, once you could actually have it. You snuggled into your nest. “Alastor, ma cher, it’s about time for your broadcast.” The sound of a record scratching filled the room as he glared at you, then at Charlie’s group still brainstorming ways to ‘help’ you. “I’ll be fine darling. Vaggie and Husk should be able to wrangle them. I think,” you added in an undertone.

He hesitated and you waved him off with a shooing motion. “Very well cher. I’ll be back right after.” He kissed your knuckles before vanishing into his shadows.

“Y/N, Y/N! I made you tea!” Niffty skittered over with a tea set on a tray. “Merci Niffty, that’s very sweet of you.” She giggled maniacally but you were used to that. “It’s supposed to be really good for when you’re sick, ginger and honeybee!” she added just as you took a sip. You froze and managed to spit it back into the cup.

“Niffty! You’re supposed to use honey not honeybees,” Charlie exclaimed, whisking the cup away. You desperately groped for your water; Pentious realized what you needed and got the glass in your hand. You rinsed your mouth before gulping down the rest. Husk brought you a refill and you chugged that too.

Sir Pentious picked up the tiny maid. “Niffty dear, let’s go clean this up and make some fresh tea.”

“Awww and it took forever to catch all those bees,” she complained as they headed back to the kitchen. “Geez, you can’t take your eyes off her, huh?” Angel said, running a hand through his hair.

“Hey, Angel?” Surprised, he looked down at you. “Could you read for me?”

“Huh? Ya want me to…read?” You nodded. “Uh…sure, I guess. Whatcha wanna hear?”

“There’s a book on my nightstand,” you managed between coughs. Husk brought you a new dose of cough syrup. “Can you grab that?”

“You’re gonna let me into your and Al’s room?” You nodded again. “A’right, so long as Smiles doesn’t get mad at me for it.” He returned a few moments later with the book. “Dang toots, I thought my room was crazy; why d’you have a whole damn swamp in yours?”

“ ‘S a bayou. Reminds us of home,” you said drowsily. The spider demon could only shrug at that. He settled onto the couch, long legs crossed gracefully, and opened the novel to your marked page.

He faltered at first but as he continued his voice got smoother. The pitch dropped just a little and his accent became heavier. It was a bit odd to hear Agatha Christie in his voice, but that didn’t stop you from enjoying it. You ended up falling asleep, thinking you were finally hearing the real Angel.

Alastor returned once his program finished to find you still asleep in your mountain of cushions. Angel was still reading your book, silently now. He’d noticed your light snores, placed your bookmark and kept reading on his own. “Ya know Al, this thing’s pretty good,” he said as he noticed your husband’s arrival. “Your girl’s got good taste.”

“Well, I’m glad you finally noticed.” His voice woke you up; you poked your head out from under the duvet. “How are you feeling cher?”

“Mmm,” you tried to assess things. You felt slightly itchy and sweaty. “I could use a bath.”

Angel Dust immediately perked up. “Oh, Nurse Angel has that covered doll face.” At the flat no from the two of you, he only smiled wickedly. “What? I’ve got six hands,” he popped the hidden arms out, “I can scrub her down real good. And you too, tall, dark, and spooky.” He flashed his gold tooth at Alastor, who finally had enough. Your husband picked you up and after a brief moment of darkness you both appeared in your bathroom.

“Hopefully he got the hint,” you remarked as Alastor gently stripped your nightgown off.

“If not I’ll make sure to drive it home.” He drew the bath for you and lowered you into the tub. “Ah ah cher. I haven’t been able to fuss over you all day,” he scolded as you moved to soap up a sponge. “Surely you won’t deny me the chance to participate in the ‘helping others’ exercise?”

“Never darling.” So you relaxed as he stripped off his jacket, shirt, and undershirt, leaving his trousers on. You stayed passive as he cleaned all the sweat from your skin. He was gentle and thorough, caring but not sensual in his motions. As he massaged your scalp, you felt yourself getting drowsy again.

By the time he was done you were ready to crawl back in bed. “Not yet my dear, we need you dry and dressed first.” You grumbled but shook off sleep to cooperate.

When he brought you back to the main room, you found a fresh bowl of soup, a pot of actual tea, another dose of cough syrup, and your book on the table. The pillow nest and duvet had also been brought up. There was a card written in crayon on the tray of food. Get Well Soon! was on the front, along with smiley faces and rainbows. The inside had signatures from everyone (egg bois 1 through 4 and Frank included) and a message from Charlie thanking you both for your help today.

You handed the card to Alastor; he read it, smirked and set it onto your bookshelf. Unlike Angel earlier, you let him feed you spoonfuls of soup. You could drink your own damn tea though. Once the food was gone, he settled you back into your nest with a kiss to your forehead. “Bonne nuit, cher.”

That was your routine for the next few days, until Hell’s version of influenza ran its course. Just a couple days after you started feeling better though, you were awoken by deep coughs next to you. “Oh no darling.” Of course Alastor caught it. Through his bleary red eyes you could tell he was dreading the attentions of the hotel residents. “Not to worry cher, I’ll handle it.”

In a reversal of last week, you told Charlie that Alastor was sick. She was again sympathetic before getting excited. “This is great! We can review everything we learned taking care of-“

“No. No no no Charlie. Alastor is not a patient patient and even sick he’ll rip them to bits. So I’ll take care of him and you guys can help me. From outside the room. Understood?”

The princess might have insisted but Vaggie quickly spun her and slid the taller girl across the floor. “Yup, last week was stressful enough, I’m not pushing our luck again. C’mon sweetie, let’s get started on the soup.”

Satisfied you returned to your suite and let your husband know the situation. “Merci, mon petit coeur,” he managed before a coughing fit kicked off. You rubbed his back. “It’s the least I can do darling.”

A/N: Happy Valentines Day readers and especially to my fellow acespecs! 💜🤍🩶🖤

@whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

[jiminrings]

478 phase 3 sneak peek

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,”  Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

.

.

.

to get ahead of questions: yes, 478 phase three will also be posted on tumblr!! the only difference would be the posting dates :)

i... will be keeping my mouth shut for the time-being!! spoiler alert: This Sneak Peek is Not all there is to phase three i am so so so sorry there Will be more!!!!!! for patrons who've already read all the sneak peeks and sent me spoiler asks, i'll be answering soon dw!!

wanna read chapter one now + exclusive content + early access?? subscribe to my patreon :D

[lostintransist]

Peace Finding The Dead

@demothers-empty-blog 😘 remember you asked for this. @cafekitsune thanks for the dividers!

This is the companion to The Dead Finding Peace, this is Simon's POV.

CW:DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT Canon Johnny death, suicidal ideation (If you wonder about letting go and something bad ending it all for you or a car accident just taking you out? that does count as ideation I was shook when my therapist pointed out that I was suicidal as a teen because of that), canon style violance, Simon dies in the end.

Simon didn’t see Johnny go down. He would regret that loss. The spreading pool, swallowing up dust, and small cracks stained his dreams. He couldn’t, but Simon swore that he could feel Johnny’s heat leeching into the concrete below his glove.

The abject emptiness startled him. He hadn’t known this level of loss since his mother passed, the secret of her alcoholism stealing her away from the pain found in her husband’s fists.

He should move. He should help. Should, should, shouldn’t, couldn’t. Did it make him a bad soldier to hope that Gaz and Price failed to disarm the bomb? If it blew it would remove the choices of moving forward or laying down to die next to him. These thoughts linger below. All he can concentrate on is that Johnny needs to move.

Johnny. Johnny, wake up. Johnny, you can’t stay there; we need to go.

They are counting. Fuck. It didn’t blow. Tears peek over the edge of Simon’s lashes, soaking the fabric.

The man, body, below the weight of his hand should be moving. Johnny never stayed still; face shifting, voice humming, toe-tapping, his presence always found in the shift of the air around him.

The space between them grew as Price called in the bomb being disarmed, and one KIA. Every breath Simon forced up and out his windpipe took him further from the one person who had wormed beneath his mask and into his heart.

He would kill and die for his team. He would have nuked the moon for Johnny.

Simon offered to go with John to deliver the news to Johnny’s family. He didn’t want to be anywhere near Captain John Price at the moment. There existed in Simon a deep well of anger that sometimes blamed him for Johnny’s death. That blame flowed from Simon’s shoulders to Price’s to Makarov’s and sometimes blanketed all three in its sour scent.

Somewhere in his soul sickness, he knew he would take comfort in the sister’s weeping. Simon thought Johnny had one sister but the sheer number of them spoke to the Catholic birth control his parents had used.

The oldest, Aila, held the paperwork to her chest, a trapdoor to the shared pain choking through the room. She sniffed, eyes distant before she settled them on Simon.

“He talked about you, Lieutenant.”

Simon hadn’t introduced himself, looming behind his captain as a steward of pain.

“He put in his will that if he died in service that you were to be given his ashes. Our mum wanted him buried with her, but the plot is full. A couple of our aunts and uncles went after Mum and we haven’t been able to buy another one yet.” Aila wiped at the tears that dripped off her chin in the small sitting room where John and Simon stood. “All I ask is a scoop of his ashes to bury at her headstone to keep my promise, but then…”

The moment stretched as Aila, eyes as blue as the sky before a storm, so similar to Johnny’s fought to focus past the welling of tears.

“Do what would be best for him and for you. His team was as much his family as we are, were.”

Price sniffed once, hard and Simon’s gloves creaked with the pressure of holding back his own tears. They both nodded and turned to leave the ladies left of the MacTavish clan to their wake preparations.

Aila touched Simon’s elbow before he ducked below the frame of the door.

“For what it’s worth he talked about you a lot. Said to give you all his sketchbooks, said you would appreciate what you found there. Thank you, for keeping him safe as long as you did.”

“Jesus Ghost, your guardian angel must be working overtime to get you out of those hairy situations time and again with only scratches,” Farah patted him on the shoulder as she passed him walking down the ramp of the plane.

I wish they wouldn’t.

He wasn’t suicidal. After Johnny’s blood colored his nightmares Simon had started drinking off jobs to cope and being reckless on them. But he didn’t dream of harming himself or drinking to the point where he turned into his father. He had no plans to end his pain, only a fleeting hope that the ground would swallow him whole and deliver him to the man he yearned for.

Simon limped from the plane, back stiff as he aimed his body to the armory to return his guns. Someone must have called his captain because Price blew into the hanger with all the downward force of a helicopter touching down.

“Simon.”

His name falling from John’s lips hit like a stray spark finding a burrow of nesting material, kindling to his rage. He kept limping forward.

The hand landed on his shoulder with a harsh ‘lieutenant’.

Simon turned, brushing the attempt at connection away with a shake of his head.

“No.”

“You don’t get to argue. This is an order, follow me to medical or I will be writing you up.” John’s eyes were ice chip blue, cold and sharp.

The lines blurred sometimes of when they were teammates, friends, or when John felt it necessary to pull rank. This line stood in sharp contrast— denials would not be tolerated.

John did not lead, bracing doorways as he cleared hallways like he might in buildings they cleared together before. No, John walked at Simon’s elbow, the hobbling gait not deterring him.

They let the footfalls fill the chilled air between them. Simon burned in his soul, the sour hate fixed firmly on John. A study of contrasts they entered medical.

Doc took one look at Simon before directing him to drop trou and lay on the table.

“I know you SAS folks make the big bucks because you can survive anything beyond brain death but damn, don’t any of you practice field medicine?” She huffed as she prodded in and around the wound before sighing. “Stay there, I’ve got to go get some supplies.”

The doctor left with nothing more than a swish of the curtain behind her.

John reclined in one of the hard chairs that came standard in any office inhabited by medical for too long. Arms folded across his chest, muscles bunched against the fabric. His mustache bristled as his lips pursed, eyes pointed at the floor.

“I know you blame me for his death.”

When Simon had been small he wished that he could disappear with Tommy into the darkness between his thin blanket and the flimsy mattress. It never worked. That desire crept up his side now, starting somewhere around his knee and settling in his throat, choking him.

“I blame myself too,” John continued, unaware of Simon the six-year-old watching him from the grown man’s eyes. “I expect John to deliver me to hell for my failure. Until then I need you with me. If you can’t do that I will submit paperwork to transfer you to another unit.”

Silence scented the air like smoke, cloying and acrid.

“I blame us both,” Simon whispered to miasma.

John’s eyes snapped up, tears brightening the shades of his irises.

“You with me then son?”

For the lack of years that separated them, John had been a better father to him than any other man. Settling an elbow over his nose to hide his own tears Simon answered, a covenant binding him to the godless wars he waged.

Weeks passed. Slowing down his alcohol consumption Simon fought the mattress below him as if he found the correct spinal alignment his mind could slip into rest.

He dreamed of Johnny that night when he finally succumbed to the yawning chasm that stretched between them. A blessing laced in grief, anthrax to his healing.

“Live a long life for me, Simon. Keep me waiting until white has stolen all the color from your hair.”

The impression of Johnny’s lips on his and words in his accent, sad and pleading, rose to the surface as Simon’s lids lifted.

Heaving sobs took him to a fetal state, knees tucked as close as his body would allow. He sobbed for eternities, succumbing to dreamlessness when his energy flagged and failed.

Waking weary Simon scrubbed the salt from his face.

“You’ve asked too hard a thing from me, Johnny,” he whispered to the room even knowing that he lost love couldn’t hear him.

If he jumped a tad harder from the plane, waited an extra second to deploy his chute, or stepped from the shadows a breath too early no one who could piece it together saw him do it.

The sucking wound in his chest, a quagmire of grief, would hide him if he paused longer than three blinks. Simon wondered if he buried his grief in a bog if a thousand years from now some farmer would find it, mummified in the peat they harvested for warmth.

Johnny colored every thought, fingers caressed over every joke before it breached his lips. Simon found himself drawn to the sketchbooks time and again—finding himself tucked in every crevice.

Shades of charcoal and smudges that still sat ridged with Johnny’s fingerprints captured Simon, ghost mask on, as someone ethereal. Gaz, Price, Laswell, Nikolai, the random woman who had given them shelter as they waited for exfil among her goats, all appeared in various places. Only Simon, smile puckering up under his mask, eyes staring deeper than the soul, scarred hands he had to remove his gloves to confirm as his, appeared on every page.

He wondered, staring at himself through Johnny’s eyes, if love had been possible. Simon held back, so deeply, desperately afraid to open up and watch the whole of him ebb away; nothing more than a tributary reaching the sea.

His breath warmed the air beyond his mask; a small puff of frozen particles marking him as living. The mountain stretched up before him, they needed to clear it of the enemy and then remove all traces of the lab that was producing a substance that would wipe out half the population.

Budget cuts meant they had to split up. Simon wondered why budget cuts only seemed to affect them and never the ship budget.

The rifle strapped to his chest bumped against him with every step. He was ready to grab and use it, but something sinister covered the mountain face like fog. His instincts screamed that this place demanded silence, and the explosion of a bullet being fired would mark him for death.

As much as he still longed for Johnny, Simon wouldn’t knowingly take that risk.

The dry snow below his boots hissed with each step, none of the satisfying crunch of wet snow that would mark his passage clearer. From the left, a man in white camo stepped from the boughs tugging his zipper into place. He caught this one in the neck with a blade, red blood steaming as it hit the snow.

Knowing there would be no use in trying to hide the loss Simon moved on. Three more soldiers fell to his skills. He continued on.

The only warning of his demise came too late.

A sharp stabbing pain split between the ribs that curled around his back.

He went down, accepting death with the relief of Atlas dooming the earth to smother with him.

The snow stole away Simon’s gasps.

“You were supposed to live!”

A voice he hadn’t heard in far too long washed over him, baptizing his wounds in a healing balm. It didn’t matter that Johnny roared at him, Simon could weep for the harsh accent in his ears.

Wrenched from his body Simon stumbled to his feet, Johnny continued to roar at him.

“How could you not check that he was dead?!”

Johnny flung his soul? It couldn’t be his body because Simon stared at the back of his head and the snow absorbing his lifeblood as it soaked the hungry mountain dirt below him. Simon’s back hit a tree; no snow fell from the branches to cover him.

“I needed you to live Simon! If you lived then my death wasn’t the reason you got careless.”

Johnny swung, fist connecting with Simon’s jaw. As Simon fell he noted the pain radiating from his face, but couldn’t drag his eyes away from the man stomping to him, on him, like an embodiment of the wrath of god. His hand drifted without thought to the place where he last felt his love.

Simon didn’t flinch when Johnny slammed a boot into his breastbone, breathing around the pressure. Johnny’s body started shaking, sobs wracking through him. He fell, knees around Simon’s waist— Simon felt more real than he had since Makarov had stolen everything from him.

“Why Simon? Why?”

“I missed you, Johnny.”

Reaching up Simon ran his hand along Johnny’s face, stubble catching on the scars on his palms. Never in life had Simon taken the opportunity to reach for love, always fearing it would be stolen from him.

Death could not steal his peace now.

Johnny crashed into him, sobs tearing new holes in Simon’s soul even as he wept as well. Rubbing Johnny’s back they wept until all the pain that had built up between them had been washed away in the flood of tears.

“I didn’t want you to die, Simon. I wanted to guard you from this side until you were old and your joints ached with the weather.” Johnny’s broken whisper pressed against Simon’s neck.

Moving his hand from Johnny’s back to his neck Simon placed light pressure, an invitation to sit up.

Blotchy red skin marked the depth of Johnny’s emotions when he rose.

“I am old Johnny, and my joints already ache with the weather.” He gave a watery smile as he continued, “I don’t know where we go from here but I know I would suffer in hell a coward if I didn’t tell you that I love you. I have loved you for longer than I think I realized.”

Johnny’s face crumpled and Simon’s heart shook, worried that he might not feel the same. Johnny slapped his hands onto Simon’s shoulders, shaking him viciously.

“Bastard, we could have been happy! I never knew! I loved you but held it back for fear of losing you!”

Simon took the abuse, letting himself be the shore Johnny’s emotions beat against. He deserved it, the anger.

When Johnny lifted his hand from Simon’s shoulders to sob into his hands Simon settled hands on his love’s thighs, rubbing soothing circles into the expanse of them.

“Do you still love me?” Simon’s voice broke on do, but he forced the words out anyway.

Johnny’s hands whipped away from his face.

“What kind of fucking question is that Si? I was your guardian angel. I missed seeing my mum to keep you safe, I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t love you.”

Simon sat up, ignoring the angry words still being spat at him. When he sat nose to nose Simon snaked one hand up to the back of Johnny’s head and the other around his waist. He cut off the rant, pressing their lips together.

They kissed for a long time, exploring the fit of their mouths and bodies against the other.

When Simon pulled back he whispered to the half-lidded gaze he found.

“Whether it be hell, high water, or heaven that comes, I’m not letting you go without me this time.”

Johnny laughed, fingers diving into Simon’s hair.

“We have the skill to kill god if the fucker says we can’t stay together. I’m never leaving you again Simon.”

Sometimes, peace finding the dead is only found in death.

[mj-iza-writer]

I can't find any mermaid whump that isn't weird sexual stuff so, if you wouldn't mind, could you please write just a nice classic whump of mermaids being captured and put in a zoo by humans? Oh and could you please add some extra angst with the mermaids being Mother and, teenage, Daughter and in separate tanks? Thanks!

This couldn't be happening.

"Pacifica", Seanna yelled, "my daughter."

"Momma", Pacifica called fearfully.

"I'm coming", Seanna yelled, "everything is alright. I'll get you out."

Seanna finally reached her daughter. A giant fishing net had captured Pacifica. Now, it was being hoisted up to a giant boat.

"No please", Seanna swam as fast as she could to the bottom of the ocean and found a sea shell. She broke it against a rock and swam back to the net.

"Momma, I'm scared", Pacifica cried as they held tightly to the net.

Seanna was cutting the net as fast as she could, but it wasn't working. Finally, she reached into the net and hugged her daughter close.

"I'm right here. No matter what, I'm right here", Seanna felt her daughter shaking, "I won't let you go alone."

"Mermaids... two of them", the crew yelled once the net was pulled up.

"Captain, we caught mermaids", a member yelled.

"Aye, I see. They'll catch us a hefty price", the captain knelt down and stared at them with a pleased look on their face.

Seanna grabbed a fish from the net and threw it angrily.

She turned quickly when she heard a sorrowful song from the deep.

"Daddy", Pacifica cried.

"He can't. He can't come for us, my daughter. It's too dangerous", Seanna reached for her daughter, "we will be okay."

Seanna and Pacifica were kept in small tubs of ocean water until they finally reached the docks.

There was already someone waiting... for them.

Seanna held her daughter's hand tightly.

They could both still hear that sad weeping song of Seanna's husband. It seemed most of the ocean had joined the mournful choir.

Seanna and Pacifica repeated the lines as much as they could. It was hard to breath in the tubs.

"Whatever happens. My daughter, know that I love you. Your father loves you. The ocean will always be our home", Seanna wiped her eyes.

Pacifica cried, "I'm sorry, this is my fault."

"No, it's not, sweetie. We were in the wrong place at the wrong time... that's all", Seanna smiled weakly, "I'm sorry I couldn't free you. I hope you will be able to be in the ocean again.... one day."

Seanna stared through the foggy glass of the tank they were left in.

"Where's my daughter?", she tried to wipe at the glass, but nothing would clean that filth off, "I can't breathe very well in here. I'm sure my daughter is struggling."

Movement caught her attention... across the room.

"Pacifica", Seanna banged on the glass.

Pacifica didn't hear her mother, but happened to turn in time to see her.

"Momma", she yelled.

Days passed....

They were both separated still, and they were both suffering greatly.

The zoologist studying them had no idea how the tank should be set up. They were not getting enough of anything. The ocean never limited them on their needs.

"The mermaids are not swimming. We can't display them for visitors if they won't swim. They look sick", the owner of the zoo, who purchased the mermaids, glared at the zoologist.

"No one has ever kept mermaids. We don't know what they need", the zoologist frowned, "I would love to recommend keeping them together. They seem like they would thrive better."

"They won't survive. We already can't keep them alive like this. Having two in one tank would kill them", someone spoke up.

"We need to give them back to the ocean", someone finally walked in, "they sing every night. There is a major storm coming our way. They belonged to someone very important out there. You've ticked mother nature off."

"They will not be going anywhere. I spent too much on them Caretaker", the owner frowned, "figure this out."

Caretaker sat on the edge of Pacifica's tank. They flopped their foot into the water.

Pacifica slowly climbed to the surface.

"Are you hungry? Your mom isn't wanting any food", Caretaker showed a bucket.

"Momma... how is she doing?", Pacifica came closer, "I'm still full. My body isn't digesting its food properly."

"I'm sorry, I know they are trying to figure out the tanks still. We don't exactly know everything you two require", Caretaker set the bucket aside, "your mom is somewhat okay. I wish she was better. She wants you. They have made mentions of putting you together, but you both won't survive in the same tank."

Pacifica nodded, "I miss my momma... and daddy."

"Daddy is still in the ocean?... Does he have weather abilities?", Caretaker frowned.

"He doesn't, but Prince Caspian does", Pacifica sighed.

"There is a major storm coming this way", Caretaker looked at Pacifica questioningly, "do you think that is, uh Prince Caspian?"

Pacifica looked at Caretaker worriedly, "yes, and if they do not receive their people back. Everyone will be underwater."

"Huh, uhm, is there any other way to appease them", Caretaker frowned, "I would love to take you and your mom back. Unfortunately, I don't have the say. The owner of this zoo won't listen."

"Us going back may not even be enough to calm the storm. Just look at what happened to the Island of Pathos", Pacifica frowned.

"There is no Island of Pathos", Caretaker studied Pacifica.

"Exactly", Pacifica frowned, "they took one of Prince Caspian's soldiers and killed them through dehydration. The island no longer exists."

Caretaker gulped.

"How can we.... I need more time", Caretaker frowned, "I'm going to try my best, but how do I get them not to drown us?"

"Take this", Pacifica peeled a scale from their tail, "take it to the edge of the water. Make sure no one sees you. Call for them and set my scale in the water. You may see his face just under the water. The scale will be an offering to show you mean well. Be respectful, or else he will drown you."

Caretaker took the scale and nodded.

"Hurry, I saw my mom earlier. She is not doing well at all. If one of us dies... everyone is doomed."

Pacifica sunk back under the water. They stared longingly at their mom.

Seanna also starred back, a distant pained look in her eyes. She needed the ocean.

Caretaker looked around for any witnesses before leaning by the water's edge.

"Prince Caspian?", Caretaker called lowly, then set the scale in the water.

After a few minutes of peering into the water, Caretaker sighed.

"Please, I have a family. I want to help your family get back to the ocean, but I also want to save my family. I need more time."

Suddenly Caretaker noticed a set of eyes staring from under the water.

"Prince... Prince Caspian?", Caretaker shook.

The eyes blinked slowly and then the person came above water level.

"This is Pacifica's scale... what are you doing with it?", they gruffly frowned.

"Please hear me out", Caretaker pleaded, "no drowning."

Prince Caspian glared.

"Pacifica and Seanna were sold to a greedy zoo owner. The ship that took them from the water sold them. I don't know where the ship is now, but...."

Prince Caspian grinned, "it's at the bottom of the ocean. This town may be joining soon."

"Please, I want to get them back to you. I need more time to do that. The owner won't let them go. I know I don't have much time though. Seanna is very sick. I know mermaids are not supposed to be kept by us. We have really messed up here. We can't figure out the water quality for both of them. Pacifica seems to be doing okay as of right now. I just need more time. Please my family lives in town."

Prince Capsian sighed, "Seanna has been in the ocean her whole life. To take her from it is like putting a human from lower altitude up in the mountains and expecting them to breathe. You might be able to replicate oxygen, but it's not the same. Pacifica is younger, so her body can adjust to new surroundings."

"I will hold off my storm at the cost of the owners life. You must bring him to me. If I don't receive the owner in two days, my storm will hit. I will expect the return of Seanna and Pacifica soon after."

Prince Caspian waved their hand in the water.

Caretaker watched as the water turned red.

Prince Caspian dove under the water and brought back a glass bottle.

"Have Pacifica and Seanna share this. Make sure Seanna gets more. It will strengthen them", Prince Caspian handed the bottle of red water to Caretaker.

Caretaker almost screamed when their wrist was grabbed.

"Mark my words... if I'm left waiting... everything gets destroyed", Prince Caspian went under the water, taking Caretaker's arm with them.

"No please", Caretaker pleaded. They sighed in relief when their hand was released.

Caretaker got to Pacifica first.

"Pacifica, Prince Capsian said to drink a little of this to give you strength. He wants your mom to have most of it though, because of how sick she is."

The storm is being held off. I only have a couple days. They want the life of the owner. I know everyone will be on board with getting you two back to the ocean. The zoologists have no idea what to do for you both. We all agree to take you back if the owner would allow. I don't know how I'll get the owner to the docks though, then to make it look like I didn't murder them."

"Tell them you saw another mermaid while you were there", Pacifica handed back the water, "please help my mom."

Caretaker splashed the water.

"Seanna, please come up", Caretaker begged.

The weakened mermaid surfaced and looked.

"I-I'm not able to eat. I'm too weak", Seanna frowned.

"I talked to Prince Caspian. They sent this to you both. Pacifica already had some. Prince Capsian wanted you to have a larger portion", Caretaker held the bottle out.

"You saw their Highness?", Seanna swam slowly to the bottle.

"Yes, I know what I must do. It will end with you two going back to the ocean. I just need you to hold on a bit longer", Caretaker smiled as Seanna drank from the bottle.

"Bless the Prince for their protection", Seanna gasped as energy came back to them, "thankyou for the care you have given to my daughter and I."

Caretaker nodded, "you're welcome."

"What exactly did you see?", the owner slumped behind Caretaker as they walked along the shore.

"A cool wading pool had some starfish here. You had talked about wanting a touch pool. We can get a few starfish without someone doing it for you. Save money", Caretaker talked over their shoulder.

"I like the way you think", the owner lightened up.

"Right this way", Caretaker pointed.

"I don't see any starfish", the owner peered into the water.

Caretaker glanced over the edge, "they were here earlier."

Suddenly a flash of movement caught their attention.

"What was that?", the owner gasped.

"I don't know", Caretaker shrugged, "did you see something?"

The owner leaned over the side again.

Caretaker watched as two arms came out of the water and pulled the owner into the water.

"Caretaker, help me", the owner came above the water and yelled.

"I'm sorry, but what you did is wrong. You are risking the lives of everyone by being stupid", Caretaker knelt down, "that includes my family. No one messes with my family."

Seanna gasped as she was pulled out of a tub.

Caretaker and one other carried her to the side of the water.

"We are going to set you in now", Caretaker smiled.

Seanna nodded, "my daughter?"

"Pacifica will be following you. I promise", Caretaker nodded, "we have to go back to get her. It will only be an hour or so."

Caretaker had the assistant walk away after Seanna was in the water.

Prince Caspian appeared a few feet away.

They swam to Seanna and pulled her along in the water.

Another mermaid appeared in the distance.

"M-my husband", Seanna excitedly yelled.

"Go on", Prince Caspian smiled.

Caretaker watched as the mermaid started to swim away.

Seanna turned, "Caretaker, thankyou for what you've done for us. You are a hero."

Prince Caspian turned and looked around.

"Pacifica will be here in about an hour. I could only transfer one of them in the tub safely. Pacifica pleaded to have us bring Seanna first", Caretaker nodded, "I promise."

Prince Caspian glared but nodded.

"It was the safest way to get them here. I'm going right now", Caretaker stood.

Pacifica hugged Caretaker as they were carried to the waters edge.

"Thankyou so much", Pacifica smiled, "I never knew a human would be so kind."

"You're welcome", Caretaker knelt down to help her into the water, "it has been an honor taking care of both of you."

Prince Caspian came to the surface to help Pacifica into the water.

She was pulled along a little as well.

"Your parents are waiting for you", Prince Caspian pointed.

Pacifica nodded, "thankyou again Caretaker", she nodded.

"You're welcome", Caretaker smiled, then watched her disappear under the water.

"Why do you pull them along like that?", Caretaker asked without thinking.

Prince Caspian turned, "to make sure their body is functional with the water. It's like them taking their first breath of real air. Their body needs to pull in the oxygen before I let go."

Caretaker nodded, "that makes sense. You are a good leader. Very patient."

Prince Caspian grinned, "I guess I can say that you are a good father for what you did to protect your family."

"So, does that mean no storm?", Caretaker grinned.

"The storm has been canceled", Prince Caspian nodded, "but what will the zoo do without their mermaids?"

"It was dying anyways. The owner was not a good man, and he was an even worse zoo owner. Most of the animals have been taken. This was his last attempt", Caretaker sighed, "I'm just happy to have gotten Seanna and Pacifica home. The rest of it will be taken care of."

Prince Caspian lowered themself when they heard people talking nearby.

"The mystery of merfolk must remain that... a mystery", Prince Caspian talked lowly, "can I trust you to keep this as just another story."

Caretaker quickly nodded, "the zoologist and I will not say a thing as we do not want to explain how we just about killed two mermaids. The secret is safe."

Prince Caspian nodded, "thankyou, and thankyou for holding your part of the deal."

"You're welcome", Caretaker nodded, "take care of them."

"I plan on it", Prince Caspian turned, "take care of your family as well."

Caretaker nodded, "I will, I promise."

Prince Caspian dove under the water moments after.

Four tails lifted from the water a few yards away from shore.

Caretaker waved back. They sighed in relief that the job was completed.

"Lets go home", Caretaker whispered.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@weirdthingweee @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@risk606 @electrons2006

@paperprinxe @whumprince

@kaz-of-crows @mis-graves

@decaffeinatedtimetraveler94 @sausages-things

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@deafeninglittlecrown @jumpywhumpywriter

@blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @mylifeisonthebookshelf

@thenormalestever @whatwhump

@galatic-worm @starmoon-constellation

[codename-adler]

Adèle Moreau (18) USC Gymnast

I’m gonna be honest, babes, it seems she has been living inside my head for years but never on paper? I haven’t got any written notes?? Wild. Absolutely sick behaviour. Got playlists tho! I should search my mess of a desk among the dunes and dunes of paper, maybe she’s in there. I gave birth to her while working at a donut shop during covid, so I was using receipt paper to write down when I was bored playing security guard at the door for insane customers… Dark ages… She was my light. Take care of her, ‘kay?

*Because she dates back to 2021, this has nothing to do with TSC – refer to this oc masterpost for context OR ask meeeee*

Excerpt from Wade Vesper's (OC) file: While Wade's personal case remains unsolved, he's 27 when he falls head first into the case of his life: tasked with protecting Adèle Moreau, surviving daughter of the Moreau crime family that had fallen to ruin in France years ago, Wade cannot let go of her once it is time to hand her over to Witness Protection. Adoption it is. Never in a million years would Wade have imagined being the legal guardian of a girl with ties to the mafia, one that could be killed any moment, one that chips at his fortress of a heart and ice-cold of an exterior. One that mends his heart in ways he never thought possible. One that takes only months to heal parts of him he never even considered were broken, when years of relentless work had done barely anything. Light of his life, and whatever. But for years, she survives, and so does he, and they're even happy together. Until. It's always 'until'. Neil Josten, aka Nathaniel Wesninski, opens his big fat mouth and reveals awful things, opens up gates that should have stayed locked. Adèle learns about Jean Moreau, learns about USC, hides the little she knows about her past and her file, and somehow lands both her and Wade in SoCal, under the pretense of joining the excellent gymnastics program at USC.

Jean is supposed to be in his early twenties in this and Adèle is his little sister of 4-5 years younger

Since TSC I have been thinking of incorporating Elodie into this fic’s lore, as the sibling between Jean and Adèle who still dies, but it’s just an entertaining thought to play with, nothing more

In this AU, the Moreau mother is better than what Jean got in canon; although she acts too little too late, she tries, like Mary, and her children survive, like Neil, but at what cost… at what cost

Maman Moreau is meeker than her Wesninski/Hatford counterpart, much less ingenious, not because she loves her husband or agrees with him, but because anything brighter has been beat out of her since girlhood

All she has left is the training ingrained into her body, burned into it, scarred into in

Jean has always been reserved for something else, away, something more, and she loves him, she does, but he is stronger than her, already, which leaves her nothing to give him

Adèle, however… Adèle is all hers

Maman Moreau tries to begin her training at the very most perfect second; not too young, not too old; not too grown, not too soft; not to aware, not too stupid

If she plays her cards right, if she plays her daughter just right, Adèle will climb up to the top of the world’s podium, like her older brother is supposed to, and maybe then, maybe then…

It’s gymnastics from 6 to 6, 6 days a week. Not on the Lord’s day. Then we must pray. Mother Mary knows we have too much to pray for.

In 2 years, Adèle quadruples her potential and skills, rivaling the Romanian girls

She’s on an unstoppable high, she’s doing it, exceeding expectations, sweetening the sense of victory Maman Moreau cannot help but float on

It is not enough

Or, well, too much

Adèle is perfect, this strong and agile little doll anyone would be lucky to get their hands on

Her price skyrockets and Moreau Senior collects

Her price pays for the errors of Moreau Senior and the Red Room is coming to collect

Maman Moreau falls catatonic at the news, because she knows, she knows, has heard the whispers like trails of blood, and she is locked in the confines of a room in the attic, because Adèle cannot know, Jean can’t know

It is not the first time, after all, that Maman Moreau is sick

The Moreau siblings suspect absolutely nothing as their family and servants gather to see Adèle off from the porch of the Villa Marseillaise

And none of the Moreaus expect a raid from an armed enemy squad, shooting all over, slicing throats left and right

Adèle Moreau dies that afternoon

She’s shot in the back twice and bleeds out in the sandy gravel, her Maman bowed over her little corpse, banshee wailing in the winds of the willows

The raiders set the land on fire and Lady Moreau stands guard over her daughter as it all goes ablaze

From the doorway where he is being carried to safety, Jean Moreau, little Jean, a knife still sticking out from his back, failed attempt at killing him, or was it, catches a glimpse of his burning mother, but never sees his baby sister again

Adèle wakes up in an unfamiliar car, an unfamiliar young man driving, speaking lowly into a cell phone in an unfamiliar language, unfamiliar accent

She is laid on her tummy in the backseat, an even younger man unwrapping mummy bandages, when a bump in the dirt road triggers a searing pain along her spine down to her toes

She almost has time to scream before a strongly scented cloth covers her mouth and she goes back into the dark wonderland

Adèle Moreau vanishes from Marseille and resurfaces as Astrid Müller in Geneva, under the guardianship of a very old couple, childless, both coincidentally retired gymnastics coaches of worldwide renown who teach her everything they know

As Astrid’s bullet wounds heal nicely, a goddamn miracle, the severe burns covering half of Maman Moreau’s body don’t, nor does her heart, or Jean’s

As Astrid trains harder than ever, works from sunrise to sundown on the Swiss farmland, her brother is shipped to America and her mother is interned somewhere in Finland

Astrid does not understand, and she almost forgets, if it weren’t for the twin circles marring her back, but not even ten years go by before someone finds her again

They kill the old couple without mercy but they don’t find her, and the news of the murdered Olympic coaches goes international but they don’t mention her

Adèle and Astrid collide, battle it out somewhere in the acres of blooming corn

It’s one of the American agents of INTERPOL that finds her, and doesn’t let her go

Wade Vesper holds her till Montpelier, Vermont, till the case is opened and closed, opened and closed again, opened and abandoned, till her papers show Marian Vesper, till she hides her accent completely under an American one, till she graduate high school at the top of her gymnastics team, till it’s time to fly away to college

Wade doesn’t teach her everything he knows; if he teaches her a hundredth of what he knows

As hard as some things are to forget, some other are even harder to ask, and answer

Until Nathaniel Wesninski opens his goddamn mouth and almost gets himself killed once or twice, like it’s fun

UCLA was the plan, UCLA was always the plan, fellow gymnasts already awaiting her arrival on the champion team, but Marian applies to USC, because they have a new athlete on their Exy lineup, and she could swear she knew him

What is Wade to do? Uncover the landmine he’s been hiding with his body since he met her? Let her go into the Californian minefield that could make her disappear for good? Fly them to the British countryside and leave a burning house behind?

He lets her go

For better or for worse

Marian fits seamlessly into the dorm life of the student-athlete building, fits in seamlessly with her roommates, two of whom are on the Exy team

The more she learns of this nightmare of a backliner they just welcomed, the more she finds them both beautiful, the more she avoids said backliner, Jean

He doesn’t have a sister; he doesn’t speak French anymore; he isn’t out of the woods yet

Wade Vesper, Neil Josten and Jean Moreau are helpless to what is about to come down; what is done, is done

A Trojan she is, at last

Adèle Moreau doesn’t know what box of horrors she opened

She only wanted–her brother

[papsiguesss]

Moar Fear in the Night thoughts™️

So that discussion about Michael and Molly got me thinking…

How did these two even meet/fall in ‘love’ in the first place?

I’m imagining they’d have been textbook ‘extrovert adopts introvert’ but I think Molly had selfish plans from the start. I think they might have met while Michael was studying to become a teacher and he might have been drawn to her because he didn’t really have other friends (he alludes to him having trouble forging personal connections in the film so using that as inspo).

As for Molly… ngl I just think she’s in it for the money. I think she saw Michael as an easy target and went for it (Michael wasn’t as unstable before the fire ofc, but like there is no way that he’s neurotypical so Molly may have seen a ‘weakness’ there. Again not my views but we’ve already established that Molly is ableist as all hell)

Maybe their relationship started to fall apart when they settled down at Michael’s school when he began to teach there (I’m assuming he taught first before becoming headmaster especially since he still teaches Latin). Maybe Molly started to realise that things weren’t working out as she was expecting and she felt her freedom being ‘stripped away’ and so she became resentful towards Michael because of that? Killing him by lighting the school on fire would then solve both the problem of her husband who has started to annoy her and the school she hates so much.

Very ironic that her actions make it so that she’s bound to the school even more but that’s besides the point lolll

On Michael’s side, I genuinely think he was extremely devoted to her and tried to do everything to mend their relationship when Molly was getting sick of it. I imagine he has a lot of guilt over not being a good enough husband to her but it turns out that Molly had just been lying to his face all along. As I said I feel like Michael desperately wants to go back to how they were before all the hardships, but… Molly is just hellbent on getting rid of him. 🥺

Also the idea of Michael also shutting himself in the school even more because he cannot bear to stay with Molly for long because he loves her but he knows she wants him dead and he cannot face up to that so he just isolates himself even more because he feels like a burden with needing to be taken care of so much because whump.

Idk just had some thoughts while imagining a potential confrontation the two had because SOMETHING needed to have happened for Michael to snap and tie her up as he’s such a cinnamon roll otherwise…

[verdemoun]

@alphabetpal your beautiful mind

Kieran constantly doubts his relationship with the gang. The slightest hint of annoyance and he is mentally preparing himself to be thrown out. Overthinks interactions constantly. He still thinks he needs to be useful to have a purpose to the gang, which is why asking him to 'help' with something is such a quick way to over-ride the change is scary part of his brain and introduce new things. He keeps a backpack ready with the bare necessities for survival if he did need to run. Over years, later decades, it might collect dust, but the backpack never goes away.

One of the reasons he retreats into his room when distressed is to re-pack his bag and make sure he has everything he couldn't live without. When Hosea was in hospital, he was not doing well. He cried because not only would losing Hosea be devastating, because Hosea is decent to him and they spend so much time together, but he was preparing himself to lose his home. He went through his bag a dozen times trying to figure out what he would need, certain Arthur or Bessie was going to turn around and blame him for Hosea getting sick and throw him out.

But Kieran and Bessie. If he ever thought Bessie was actually mad at him, it might kill him. Bessie is a lifeline because she wasn't there in canon era. She has no obligation to him. He whole-heartedly believes Hosea, Lenny and Arthur, despite being some of his favorite people, are only so much nicer to him in modern era because of the guilt of seeing what happened to him: both during the VDLs and his death.

He still feels like the pretender. Hosea might be like a dad to him, but he isn't his dad the way he is for Lenny and Arthur. Hosea is still Mr Matthews, right-hand of the VDLs, and he is still a former-O'Driscoll. That feeling never goes away, and every time someone else timewarps it comes back tenfold. It is a subpoint in picking up someone new from canon era is making it clear that Kieran is one of them and the 1899 gang will defend him if needed because they know how sensitive he is to that fear of being thrown out or pushed aside.

Bessie is his mom. She is so overwhelmingly kind and patient, and she has no reason to be. He was so suspicious of it at first, because people aren't just nice. Begging to know what he can do to repay her for buying him clothes because no one just gives people things. Maybe she would turn around one day and suddenly demand everything returned or repaid? She was already referring to him as her son when Kieran was still working his way through 'is she doing this because she pities me or could it actually be possible someone doesn't mind my presence'. Of course it took months for her to convince him to call her Bessie instead of Mrs Matthews.

Hosea being in hospital was actually the event where Kieran's brain finally clicked 'yes Bessie does actually like me as a person' only to steamroll into 'this is my mom and I love her and would kill or die for her'. Hospitals are sensory hell, and Kieran has his own trauma with hospitals after the first day he timewarped he is flinching and holding his sleeve over his nose because the smell of disinfectant feels like it burns. The fact he even came along was deeply touching to Hosea, how explicit the action in itself made it clear Kieran does worry and care about him. But hospitals are hell. Once he was satisfied Hosea was actually going to be okay, and was doing better, Kieran politely excused himself.

After making sure her silly husband and their poor emotional sons were okay, Bessie tracked Kieran down like a man on a mission. Sure enough, Kieran had found his way to the smoking area, because he is also one of the more useless members of the gang when it comes to quitting - and a smoking area is usually quiet, tucked away from everything, and smoking in itself is a sensory break. When Bessie Matthews held out a hand, Kieran was so shocked he almost dropped his own cigarette.

Bessie laughed and told him not to look at her like that. She has quit, quit long before the gang got to modern era - but sometimes she just needs a cigarette. Her husband being in hospital and son about to get arrested for assaulting the next nurse to walk into the room was a good enough reason to need a cigarette. It would have to be their secret. Immediately Kieran is at ease because being trusted with a secret as scandalous as the Bessie Matthews smoking is hilarious.

She proceeded to tell him about her plan to hide the cigarettes at home, which Kieran found very amusing (honestly they all have at least one pack tucked away for bad days), and also warning him that Kieran was not to give him a cigarette. She knows her husband is a bastard and would ask Kieran first because he thinks Kieran is too much of a gentle soul to say no but she was expressly giving him permission to say no and to go to her if Hosea tries to pull any funny business. When he agreed, she smiled, very gently put a hand on his shoulder and said something to effect of 'that's my boy'.

Even if she's said it a hundred times before it was the first time his brain noticed. The two of them stood there together, not needing to talk, having a very sneaky cigarette outside of the hospital, Kieran feeling a little warm and fuzzy because Bessie Matthews had decided he was her boy and it felt nice. She proceeded to let him sit in the car to avoid the escalation that was no doubt going to happen in the hospital room and it really just sank in that all those efforts to make sure he's content and happy is because she genuinely cares and thinks of him as one of her boys.

[fandomworld9728]

In that previous ask... I would love to see a Adam vs Alastor vs Vox battle for Lucifer hand but Vox surprisingly seem to the only one seeing this said fight ridiculous and just wanted to deal with this humanely! It would be nice to see Vox ditch and just went to talk to Lucifer and asked him out on a date and when Adam and Alastor noticed Vox just gave them a disapproving look and flipped them off while Lucifer was being all giddy and blush-y

Oh! And que The sins and Virtues!

(More fun writing for me!~ ^-^ This is a great set up and I love how it's Vox being the mature and reasonable one)

"Fucking hold still!"

"Ah yes. Because you asked us oh so nicely, we'll stand still and let you hit us."

"Is this guy for real right now?"

Sitting on the steps of the Hazbin Hotel with the other residents, Angel Dust was eating some popcorn and offered to share as they watched the show. Two big bad Overlords and a fallen angel fighting over the King of Hell. And where was their king right now? Up on the balcony outside of his room to have a better view of the showdown.

"We should stop them."

"Charlie, if any of us tried to stop them, we'd just get killed."

"You're right... dad should stop them."

"I hate to tell ya this Charls, but your dad is most likely enjoying the attention. Aren't ya short king?!"

Knowing he's been caught; Lucifer used a portal to join everyone in front of the hotel. With a sheepish smile, he cleared his throat and fidgeted with his cane trying to find the right words. How did one explain to their daughter that having three men you held affections for fighting over you was an amazing feeling?

"Dad! You have to stop them!"

"I will! ...Just a few more minutes? It's not like they can actually kill each other. There are no Angelic Weapons so they'll just reform later."

"But they're destroying everything, and I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Okay, okay. I'll go stop them." 

~

This was stupid. How did Vox allow himself to get wrapped up in this fight? Oh, right. Adam had declared he was the best and only choice for Lucifer. All three of them were prideful assholes, he could admit that. However, their king had made it clear multiple times that he didn't want to choose. So… why make him choose?

The only difficult decision he'd have to do was pick who would be the head husband. It wasn't uncommon for kings to have multiple partners and wives. Why would this be any different? Especially in this day and age. Not to mention, they were in Hell! Pretty much anything went.

But they were also possessive creatures. Vox could understand both sides of the issues, logically. However, this was not getting them anywhere. Yelping, the TV demon barely dodged the attacks thrown at him. Dammit, he thought the two had forgotten about him. He needed a new plan.

"Choke on my sick rifts edge lord!" Summoning a black axe guitar, Adam sent a powerful soundwave attack at the stupid deer demon dancing around his attacks.

"Ha ha! It's laughable how you think that would do any damage to me. Or hit me for that matter- wait. Where did Vox go?"

The two sinners shared a look before turning their attention towards the hotel. "Fuck."

~

Using his powers to travel through his cameras, Vox appeared in front of the hotel. Fixing his bowtie and jacket, he made his way over to the ground still watching the two morons fighting it out.

"Ooo~ Look who left the battle."

"Angel. Good to uh… see you again." Conversations were always so awkward with the spider demon. What with not only working with the owner of his soul but also sleeping with him. And the fact that he never stepped in when Val crossed many, many lines.

He was already in the process of fixing those things, but the damage had already been done. Luckily for him, the princess was a big advocator for second chances and was helping the sinner improve.

The reason for that change had turned his attention to him causing his more natural smile to stretch across his screen. "Lucifer. Apologies for the mess we made. Honestly, I can't even remember the reason I allowed myself to be dragged into that mess."

Taking the fallen angel's hand, he lightly placed a kiss on his knuckles. "Would you do me the honor of going on a proper date with me?"

Everyone was silent at his actions, and while usually Vox would take the prolonged silence as a bad sign, the flustered look on his angel caused his smile to grow. That pretty little golden blush spread across Lucifer's cheeks, stuttered nonsensical sentences spilled from his lips. 

"Can I take that as a yes, your majesty?"

"No, you may not!" Reforming from his shadows, Alastor used his cane to push Vox away from the king. "That reaction is far from consent. Not that you would know anything about consent, now, would you? Especially when told no."

A growl threatened to slip out. How dare he? Thinking he had the moral high ground. "Listen here you piece of shit-"

Something crashing into the hotel and landing next to them pulled their attention away from the start of another fight. Sitting up, Adam shook the debris from his hair. 

"Oh good! Now that we're all here, we can continue this little debate of ours."

"Why? So, we can cause more property damage and kill each other just to do it again after we've reformed?"

"A date! Y-Yes, a date! T-that uh… sounds nice."

Vox could feel the electricity flow through him at the answer. Yes. Yes! Finally! He got to go on a date with his angel. Secretly flipping off Lucifer's other two admirers, he stepped closer to his lovely king. 

"You have no idea how happy that makes me to hear. Adam may have known you since the beginning of Earth's creation, Alastor may have had you before me, but I will not waste this chance and show how happy I can make you. It's been all I've ever wanted since I was just a boy."

~

"Aww!~ Look at how happy Lulu is."

"It's so great that he's able to find love again."

"And with three guys. One of them being Adam. Huh. What a crazy little loveable guy we have as a brother."

All the Virtues were so excited and happy for Lucifer as they watched everything unfolding from the meeting room they had gathered in. It had been Michael's idea, and he was regretting it. How could those lowly sinners think they were good enough for their baby brother?! And Adam... oh don't get him started on Adam!

Sure, he liked him better then Lilith, but this was the same guy who had taken away what little happiness Lucifer had had during his punishment their Father had deemed necessary. If the former angel thought he was gonna just get to be with their precious little brother he had another thing coming. Him and those other two sinners.

"Uh oh~ Mikey is getting angry again."

"You sure he isn't just jealous?"

"I am not jealous! You're jealous!"

~

"Ozzie, Ozzie, Ozzie! You're serious? Lulu called and asked to have a date night at your club?"

"Yeah. Said he was bringing only one of them. That means-"

"Ha! He's just as greedy as me. How many partners does he have?"

"Hey, he deserves the love, Mamm. Don't you guys agree?" Precious Beelzebub trying to keep the peace while also trying to get them excited about this news.

"Does it really matter? It just means they're gonna take his attention away from us."

"You should take a nap, Levi. It might help. Just because Lucifer has some new boyfriends doesn't mean he loves you any less."

"You do know we're going to have to go over there and scare the unliving shit out of them, right?"

[genolover]

So I read @aughtpunk 's cotl forgiveness au in like 2 days and now I'm hyperfocusing on it. I just keep thinking of cute little things. Particularly between Shaun and kallamar. Aughtpunk probably shouldn't read this.

Like they have regular are-we-still-engaged chess matches. The first time kallamar wins, they regretfully tell the others the engagement is off. Most everyone is like, you were engaged?? How?? Since when?????? The next day they're engaged again. It great and not at all confusing. Pretty soon no one is sure if the engagement is even real or not. Don't ask kallamar, he's not 100% sure either. Like they play games to see who's responsible for the flowers or menu decisions but is it real? Half the group is sure it isn't until it's the night before the wedding and Holy shit this is actually happening wtf and Shaun is just so disappointed in them. Kallamar is too, right my love? Kallamar is like, yeah, I can't believe they doubted the seriousness of this situation. Internally he's screaming. Shaun also didn't think it was that serious but over time he got sick of people shit talking kallamar to his face so he was like, now I gotta marry him in the biggest most amazing wedding ever. I just gotta.

I also just like the idea that they would use games to settle most disagreements. They watch eachothers strategies and moods to figure out how serious they need to be. If it's a lighthearted thing then they joke the whole time and whoever wins, wins. Gg. If it's something more important to one than the other then they give a good game but let that person win since clearly this is a significant matter. If it's an important matter to both, they use the game as something of a distraction. I can't kill you for not understanding exactly where I'm coming from by magically reading my mind if I'm too busy trying to figure out if the move you just made is even legal. By the end of the match, whomever wins, it comes out as more of a compromise.

They do have this problem where if they don't have a clear goal for a game, it can escalate into terrible ends. Like Shaun makes a flirty double entendre about calamari, kallamar says something gross about cannibalism, suddenly its 3 am, they're in the kitchen with heket who is waaaay too happy about cooking some of her brother's flesh with the intention of giving it to his ex-fiancee to eat (shaun being grossed out by cannibalism made him lose), and questioning all of their life choices.

Oh and after wedding thought. Shaun asks narinder for a life flower (that what I've been calling them in my head). Narinder is grossed out but Shaun gives this whole speech about how they aren't gonna use it now, he just wants to show kallamar that he did notice that he wasnt sure how serious he was about the wedding but he is very serious about wanting to have this life together with him and growing their family together. Narinder does reluctantly give him a flower. Little while later kallamar asks for the same thing. His explanation is a little more based in logic. They've talked about children before and he's probably gonna be the one carrying them so it just makes sense for him to have the flower. Everyone is like aww they're gonna present these flowers to eachother and it's gonna be cute or something. Meanwhile kallamar is confirming that he and his husband aren't needed for anything else tonight and maybe the flower might work if brewed into a tea but eh it's better to not chance it and just. Fucking. Eats it. Right there. Infront of God (poor jake) and everybody. Did his husband see that? No, of course not. That would prevent any miscommunication drama. It's like, dude, did you guys plan on that or...? And kallamar is like, we've had some of the most important discussions about this already, I fail to see why we can't start trying now. And then he leaves to go spend his wedding with Shaun in private and now the whole family has no idea what to do with themselves. They did not need this information.

I also have thoughts for their kids. First set is twins. They are cute. They look like normal lambs just tinted blue. At first. They actually have tendrils they hide amongst their wool. They're also good at team hunting. If you see the both of them, it's safe. If you only see one, it's a distraction, turn around, you are being ambushed.

These are just fun little thoughts I had. Feel free to ignore me.

[jqmalikhsgib]

sea view

three

tigger warning: mention of suicide. please do not read if it will trigger you. i want you all to be aware and safe. this is just a filler chapter. just know if you’re ever struggling im here to listen! love each and everyone of you <3

harry would never understand how some men can’t comprehend how women’s bodies are the most magical and beautiful thing in the entire world. the masculine, macho men who think all women should do is cook and clean, it’s insane!

women give so much to men. they literally carry their babies for them for months, nearly an entire year before officially giving birth to them. it’s the most beautiful and selfless thing they could do.

harry’s grateful for his wife! you’ve given birth to three—maybe more in the future—of his babies. he couldn’t ask for a better woman to be by his side.

after giving birth to hayden, harry picked up the slack around the house. he made sure the kids got up for school, made them breakfast, cleaned around the house, even made sure you got as much rest as you needed!

you didn’t understand how lucky you’ve become with a husband like harry. sure, the two of you had shit in the past, but you worked it out and now you’re both doing so well. you’ve heard and read plenty of stories about someone else’s partner not being their for them or helping out when it came to their kids and household duties. you would never understand how one could treat their girlfriend, boyfriend, husband, or wife like that!

sure, harry wasn’t perfect. he’d done some pretty shitty things in his earlier career, but he’s never neglected your children. he’s always been an amazing father. you knew no matter what had happened to you and harry, if you would have gotten a divorce years ago, he’d be there for his babies. for that you loved him!

sure, he’s doing the bare minimum. but you give credit where it’s due because some men don’t do shit!

“hi, hayden! can’t believe you’re already two weeks old. you’re gonna be daddy’s best friend, huh?” harry coos at his son.

he couldn’t get enough of his son being in the world. he loved all his children so much! harry didn’t know what he’d do if he wasn’t a dad.

“daddy, we’re home!”

“who’s that, baby? is that your big brother and sister? yeah! they’re back from school. let’s go say hi, huh?”

harry heads downstairs. he spots his daughter heading for the cabinet for a small snack while his son sat at the table and started his homework.

“how was school, pay-pay?”

“it was so cool, daddy! misses lane made us draw our favorite things! i drew you on stage.” payton hands her father the drawing.

harry smiles happily. payton was definitely artistic. she could already draw really well for a seven year old.

“this is good, baby! im gonna hang it on the fridge.”

“where’s mamma, daddy?”

“she’s resting, baby. remember what i told you? mamma needs all the rest she can get. she just had your baby brother so she’s gonna be extra tired. did you need something from her?”

payton hums.

“maybe i can help?”

“well, all the kids at my school talk about having two grandmas. mama said grandma rose died when she was young. how’d she die, daddy? mamma never told me.”

harry eyes widened. he didn’t expect her to ask that. he honestly didn’t know if he should answer or wait for you to wake up and tell her. corbin looks at his father with a bit of a sad smile. he knew how difficult it was for you to talk about. it’s one of the reasons why corbin never asked either. he didn’t want to upset you.

payton was still young. she didn’t understand too much. she was getting older nonetheless, it made sense as to why she was curious.

“oh, baby. nana rose, she was an amazing woman to your mama. she just—she was really sick,”

“like the sniffles?”

harry shakes his head. “it was a different kind of sick. you know when you’re sad sometimes?”

“mhm!”

“well, nana rose was sad all the time. it made her really really sick and she—well the bad thoughts she had ended up killing her, baby.”

payton didn’t understand too much. corbin got it right away. he felt really bad for his mom. you were barely six years old when she apparently ended her life. he could only picture a six year old you crying in his grandfathers arms, confused to what happened to your mom. his heart broke for you. corbin wouldn’t know what to do if you ended your life. he’d probably blame himself for a long time. thinking he wasn’t a good son.

“does mamma have photos of grandma?”

“she does! im sure if you ask really really nice she’ll show you, yeah?”

payton hums before pulling out her own homework. harry walked back upstairs to put his son down. he sighs as he thinks about the conversation he’d just had with your seven year old.

“dad?”

harry turns around. he sees corbin give him a sad look.

“why didn’t mom tell me?”

harry grabs his son hand. “she likes to talk about the good memories she had with her mother. talking about how sick she was makes her sad.”

“what—what happened?”

“your nana loved her babies, don’t get confused! your mom talks about how much she adored her six beautiful kids, how she’d read to them at night, make their sandwiches into different kind of shapes, sing to them, dance with them, make them laugh. but she was broken inside. she was diagnosed with schizophrenia when she was thirteen. ever since she was in and out the hospital. when she was sixteen she met your grandpa. it was love at first sight! in a way, he helped her a lot, just by being there. her medication was working better, she opened up a lot more to her therapist, she laughed more. she was starting to become herself again. but when she had your uncle ryan, that’s when things turned bad again. she’d now been a mom of four and your grandfather, though a great man, worked pretty much all day and night. this led her to a dark path once more. by the time she had your mom, she’d been in and out of the hospital more times than you could count. she ended up having an accident, she hurt your mom. it was accidental, but this sent her over the edge. your grandmother thought it was best and safer for her and her family to end her life.”

“how’d she hurt mom?”

harry bites his bottom lip.

“you notice that scar on your moms back?”

“the big gash?”

“yeah, your grandma had an episode and cut her pretty deeply. your mom had to undergo surgery and everything. she lost a lot of blood but obviously she survived. it broke your grandmas heart.”

corbin heart breaks even more.

“can i—can i go and hug mom? i know she’s sleep, but—”

“sure kid! go!”

corbin nods before heading to your bedroom. he sees you sitting up with a book in your hand. he goes to hug you tightly.

you were surprised but hugged him back. “what was that for?”

“just love you, mom!”

you smile hugely.

“love you too, kid!