#How to tell if your child is dehydrated

[growchildrenclinic]

5 Signs of Dehydration in Kids: What Every Parent Should Know

Children usually suffer from dehydration problems, and if not checked can soon lead to serious health problems. Kids are naturally more active and may forget to drink sufficient amounts of water, yet they need hydration for them to be healthy and in the process of development. Five Important Signs of Dehydration in Children That Parents Should Recognize:

1. Dry Skin or Mouth

Dry, flaky skin and a parched mouth are classic signs of dehydration. If your child's lips crack or their skin feels less elastic than usual, it is a sign that the body is lacking fluids to keep moist. Encourage them to sip water throughout the day and eat hydrating foods like watermelon or cucumber.

2. Fatigue and Irritability

Dehydration can greatly impact energy levels. If your child seems more tired, sluggish, or cranky than usual, it may be because of a lack of fluids. Without enough hydration, the body cannot function as it should, causing fatigue and mood swings.

3. Headaches

Headaches are a less common but important symptom of dehydration. When the body doesn't have enough water, it has decreased blood volume, thus reducing oxygen flow to the brain. If your child complains of headaches often or even during or after sports activities, make sure they get enough water.

4. Bad Breath

Dehydration causes a decrease in saliva production, which helps to clean the mouth and regulate bacteria. This can lead to an odor that is not pleasant. If your child has chronic bad breath, even with regular brushing, it may be time to increase their fluid intake.

5. Decreased Urination and Constipation

The child will rarely visit the bathroom and dark urine is an obvious sign of dehydration. For younger children, fewer wet diapers are a red flag. Dehydration also affects digestion, causing constipation in most cases. To prevent this, encourage your child to drink plenty of fluids and add fiber-rich foods to their diet.

Tips for Dehydration in Children

Provide Water Regularly: Ensure your child drinks water at all times, especially when they are physically active or the weather is hot.

Add Hydrating Foods: Fruits like oranges, melons, and strawberries have a lot of water and can fill up some of their fluid needs.

Develop a Habit: Teach the children to develop hydration habits, especially in younger kids who tend to forget drinking.

Steer Clear of High-Sugar Drinks: Hydrate with water or fresh juices instead of sodas and artificially flavored drinks.

Conclusion

Proper awareness and timely action can prevent dehydration in kids. With the knowledge of the five signs—dry skin or mouth, fatigue and irritability, headaches, bad breath, and decreased urination or constipation—you will be able to keep your child healthy and hydrated.

Hydration is very important for your child's overall well-being. Provide fluids easily, encourage frequent sips of water, and observe behavior for any sign of dehydration.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Pixar did not have to go as hard as they did with the Kronos Unveiled scene in The Incredibles (2004), yet they did anyway and gave us one of the best scenes in modern cinema. Literally cannot stop thinking about how good this scene is, from the animation to the build up to the soundtrack.

I don’t think I truly understood how dark this scene - and this film - was a child: Syndrome is systematically and strategically luring in superheroes and killing them off in order to test and improve his Omnidroid design… these people were not only supers but they also had family and loved ones too, just like Bob, and one day they would have just disappeared because chances are they weren’t telling people where they were going because it was "top secret" and against the law. They thought they were doing something good, like helping the people in the island, while also getting to relive their glory days, perhaps even paving the way for superheroes to make a proper comeback… only for Syndrome to kill them in cold blood.

Most of these people can actually be seen at Bob and Helen’s wedding in the beginning of the film - they weren’t just random supers, they were their friends, people they worked alongside and cared about. It’s even worse when you realise that Bob probably blames himself because, after all, Buddy/Syndrome was his biggest fan and he dismissed him by not letting him help.

The relief on Bob’s face when he realises Syndrome doesn’t know where Helen is - meaning he also doesn’t know where their children are because he didn’t realise they were married at this point - is so realistic and gut wrenching to see. The relief contrasting with the anguish of knowing how much danger they and their entire family could have been in the entire time without even knowing...it's so well-done, you can literally feel it.

It’s also worth noting that originally the next target wasn’t Mr Incredible but Frozone - that was who Mirage was trailing, hence why his location is “known”. Imagine if she/Syndrome hadn’t realised that Mr Incredible was with him and they’d lured Frozone in instead as planned; he would have gone to the island to fight the Omnidroid 8 in a volcano setting. We saw how being in the burning building dehydrated Frozone and made it impossible to use his ice powers - presumably it would have been the same in the middle of a lava filled volcano, and he’d have been slaughtered just like the other superheroes before him.

This scene shows an entire generation of superheroes - Bob, Helen and Lucius’ generation - wiped out all because Syndrome felt slighted by his hero as a child, because he internalised that slight and let it drive him to revenge. And, if we take into account the deleted alternate opening scene, it’s mentioned that superheroes "aren't supposed to breed” - meaning there’s a likelihood that Violet, Dash and Jack-Jack are among the very few supers of the next generation. I know that it's deleted and so not really canon, but it's definitely a concept to consider, I think.

Then there's the fact Syndrome named the project "Kronos" - Kronos was a God who overthrew his own father in order to take over his rule, and then he ate his own children to prevent them doing the same thing to him. It feels like it reflects Syndrome once looking up to Mr Incredible and even saying "I could be your ward!", meaning Mr Incredible adopting or fostering him - the project name is a metaphor for Syndrome destroying the Supers, especially Mr Incredible, who he viewed as a father figure. The Omnidroids he built killed two birds with one stone: not only was he able to acquire the data to upgrade the robot to its final design, but it also eliminated the real super heroes and so left him as the last remaining "superhero", even though his powers are man-made, not something he was born with.

Not only did he want to become the only remaining superhero by killing the real ones in revenge, he also planned to sell his inventions at some point so everyone can be super - because "when everyone is super, nobody is". It's like a final blow to the memory of the superheroes he had killed.

I've talked too much about this scene but God... I love it so much more as an adult because it's just so chilling to think about. I'm sure other people can put it much more articulately than I just tried to, but I just really wanted to appreciate this scene.

[yougavememyopia]

Crybaby yandere, whose teardrops you could collect in a big jar. He wasn't good at many things— styling his messy tangled hair, fixing his wrinkled and untidy clothes— he was terrible at taking care of himself. Bawling his eyes out after failing to do a simple task.

He knew he was pathetic. A whiny useless mess. He was miserable enough, and then he had to fall in love with you. His attempts at wooing you always ended up a huge failure. Even before speaking about his feelings, he'd taste the salty droplets pouring down.

So he resorted to stalking you. His glistening eyes watching you throughout the day. He wasn't very subtle. You could hear his footsteps, his sniffling— not good at being sneaky. It was obvious that he was following you around like a lost child.

He was quick to sob no matter what kind of reaction you showed him. A smile, a frown, a glare. No matter what you did, he'd still cried a river. You were confused. Confused what he was always blubbering about. Not understanding his incoherent sentences.

"I-I just... hic… y-you're all I have… hic… I-I c-can’t—hic… I’m so s-stupid!"

You'd tell him to slow down and breathe. Rubbing his back or petting his head. You had to hug him tightly, feeling his tears soaking your clothes as his shoulders slowly stopped shaking.

You wondered how a person like him could exist— so melancholic, in need of tender loving care. (And more importantly, if he was dehydrated or not. You were really concerned.)

You had to admit; you loved seeing his face after his crying died down. Puffy eyes. Quivering pout. Red nose. You had no idea what he was even crying about, but it felt nice to see his slight smile after when you hand him a chocolate bar.

He managed to eventually speak with you normally thanks to your kindness. He wanted to do better for you. He wanted to be better for you.

That didn't stop his creepy side from taking over. He'd steal your things. Anything that had a scent of you on them soothed him. A t-shirt of yours that he could wear to bed. A pillow with the smell of you lingering on it.

He was a weirdo. He knew that, and he felt so guilty for all he did. All those items he took without permission. Just to have small pieces of you with him that he took comfort in.

He couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. He couldn't drink. He felt sick. Lovesick. He longed for your touch; your gentle arms wrapping around him and telling him everything was going to be okay.

He didn't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. Blinking them to clear his sight; your house coming into view. He longed to see you. Craved to be with you. Not caring about how late it was.

He broke into your house. Legs wobbling and head spinning. Seeking the right room. You jolted awake, screaming at the touch of the unknown shadow looming over you.

“I d-didn’t mean to s-scare you… hic… I just wanted to s-see you. Please-please don't look at me like I'm a m-monster..”

You sighed in relief when you heard the familiar sob. His shaking body immediately falling onto yours. Arms snaked around your midriff, face buried deep in your neck. He panted hot breaths, your body shivering in response. His hands clutching your shirt with panic.

You shushed him, breathing in the shampoo from his hair. Slightly groggy after being awakened from a deep slumber, you managed to open your mouth to speak. "Don't cry... Mmh... Wait, how'd you know where I lived?"

"I can't- can't take it a-anymore! Hic… I need you to t-take, hic, care of me. I neeeed you to! I can't.. I can't live without you. Hic!"

He shifted to the other side of the bed. Wasting no time to bury his face in your chest instead. It belonged there. Right where he could hear your heartbeat. You felt him nuzzle into you— his cheek rubbing your side and his fingers grazing right under your ribs. He began whining and moaning about how useless and terrible he was.

"Please, t-take me. Love... hic, love me! I wanna be yours! For your eyes only. Please? Hic. I dunno know if- If I can do anything without you."

He was starting to be less hysteric— when enveloped by your warmth and scent, he felt safe. The last tears dripped down his chin into the fabric of your shirt. Your entangled fingers in his hair enough to make him go quiet.

Your hummed filled the silence. "I don't know what to say, this is all so sudden. I mean, there's so many things wrong with this situation."

"But-but.. please?" He groaned as he looked up at you. "I wanna be next to you through whatever you do. Wanna be yours. Y-your... babyboy. Please! I'll try not to become a b-burden if that's what you're worried about."

You closed your eyes. His mind was set on convincing you that the two of you should be together already. He whimpered at the loss of your hand in his hair. "Are-are you mad at me? Do you hate... me?"

You could feel a new storm coming, so you quickly shushed him. "No, no. It's just really late." You used your free hand to cover your yawn. "Let's just sleep, yeah? Too sleepy to think."

"Oh. Um, yeah." His chest warmed up at your suggestion. You turned to your side to hug him properly. A leg pressed on his hip and an arm around his upper torso. "G'night."

He stiffened at first but then relaxed as the realization sank in. You were actually letting him stay, even holding him like a body pillow. He never felt more happy. Whispering "I love you" and "I'm yours" as he fell asleep with you.

Pt. 2

[beanlot]

simon riley, who’s trudging through the sand, leaving the chopper. his darkened eyes, usually surrounded by smudged ink, has been diluted by sweat; the scorching three-week effort of travelling through mexico, and long before that, the confines of the dingy underground bunker they’d used as a command post.

his eyes squint harshly in response to the sunlight, pupils dilating when he sees your figure in the distance.

his wife, holding his little girl in her arms.

sometimes he feels like a failure. absent, unable to provide - no matter how much you tell him you signed up for this, marrying a man who served; no matter how much you try to reassure him that it’s fine he’s missing his child’s first steps or words.

he hates himself for it.

“look, it’s daddy!” you whisper excitedly, gently bouncing the little human in your arms as he approaches. his eyes have softened, a contrast to their usual aggression.

“hey there, my little angel..” he murmurs, clearing his throat as his hands cautiously take her from you. her eyes are big, bulging with surprise, and quickly glassing up with fearful tears.

great. the cherry on top to let you know you’re a shit father, riley.

“oh, i don’t think she likes the mask..” you murmur, trying to calm her down as she starts bawling in his arms. but he’s quick and selfless, gloved fingers reaching for the hem of his balaclava and slowly peeling it off.

“it’s just me, angel. daddy’s not scary, hm?”

“simon-“ you quickly look around, noting the disorientated faces - because he’d never taken his mask off so carelessly, it wasn’t just habit or a way to hide the torture, but it was second skin.

“it’s fine, love.” he reassures you, because for the second time in his life, he needs to figure out his priorities. and ghost, was starting to go further and further down the list, especially when he looks at his daughter; her big eyes, ones she’d adopted from you, scanning his face with amusing confusion.

she looks like an alien this close up. she’s probably wondering who the frick is this guy?

“see, baby? it’s just me..” he whispers, his desire to protect her strengthening when he feels little hands start touching his eyes.

it makes you laugh. fuck, you’ve been staring with love-heart eyes for ages now.

with your help, he’s sliding off a glove, and tenderly tracing your jaw. he missed this, your skin under his fingertips, his thumb tracing the dark bags under your eyes.

“you’re alright? everything been going smooth whilst i’ve been gone?” he murmurs with concern and doting, “getting enough rest, love?”

“i’m okay. it’s part of the job.” you nod, because you knew what you were getting into when you had the conversation, how long it took just to muster up the courage to say i think i want a baby. you knew what motherhood meant, for you and your marriage.

he admires you for it. and he’ll get on his knees and worship the ground you stand on for providing him with a beautiful family, a warm home when he needs it.

and quite frankly, someone who puts him in his place so effortlessly.

“i missed you, c’mere.” he murmurs, burly arm wrapping around your shoulder and enticing you into his chest, careful not to squish the little one. you’d sway side to side, your heartbeat cudgelling against your chest with his scent; he doesn’t smell that good, but you’re grateful that he’s just here, grateful enough to be smelling his dehydrated sweat and grime.

i missed you too, handsome.

“she’s perfect, ain’t she?” he whispers, letting you step back. his eyes are fixated on his little girl, pupils dilated with adoration; the little eyes stare back, but go to curiously analyse the surroundings not long after.

he breathlessly laughs, watching as the little hands tug at his badge. “looks just like you. thank god..”

you playfully nudge his shoulder, sighing. he looks like he’s daydreaming as he scans her - chubby cheeks that have ate well, little strands of hair, thick lashes that blink in bewilderment as she looks around.

but she’s definitely got his bitch face. she looks like she’s judging all the grown men in here.

“had a talk with the lads, and there’s some discussion about me coming home.” he states, his fingers delicately stroking the back of his little girl’s head, feeling the soft fluff. “permanently.”

“what..? but you love.. but this is al-“

“i know, love. but i just can’t.. be out ��ere whilst you raise ‘er alone.” he pauses. you know he’s right, it wasn’t devotion that had him stuck to you like glue during the end of your pregnancy, or the birth. it was pure luck.

he wished he could’ve been around to watch your bump grow, sit there each morning whilst you retched into the toilet. he needs to be the man you deserve, the father his daughter deserves.

“i wanna be there, for ‘er and for you.” he murmurs, hand reaching out to graze your cheek affectionately. you missed the scorching heat of his palm, the callousness of the jagged scars tainting it.

it was time for him to pack his shit, scrape away all the baggage and gruel from al-mazrah and las almas. and instead, bathe in the intermingling body warmth of his wife, under the sheets on a thursday evening. praise her for the fine woman she is, kiss at the stretch marks on her hips and stomach from the beautiful life she’d created. sit beside his child as she bashes shapes against the toy sorter angrily, pretend to eat the plastic food she gives him.

it was time for him to forget ghost, just for now, and be simon riley.

[harmonysanreads]

I KNOW WE HAVEN’T KNOWN ANYTHING ABOUT PHAINON YET (except for that cute face and yummy booba) AND I ALREADY HAVE SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT HIM.

Okay okay imagine Yandere! Phainon who loves you and cherishes your existence too much to the brink of obsession (can you blame him?). Him, being a perfect man himself still thinks that he lacks something, and that something is your devotion, your unyielding love because he deserves it, right? He deserves to have your attention and your affection after everything he has done for you.

Oh no, dear Phainon is definitely not a selfish man, he just needs your love to complete himself, to have someone that he could return to after a hard day.

That’s why I think this man will definitely love bombing you. Gifts, kisses, cuddles? Everything you want, everything you ask for. And even if you don’t even need it, he still offers it to you like the desperate puppy he is. He will spoil you rotten, and I mean it in the most respectful way. He found your smallest quirks adorable even if it’s not that special in your eyes. He reminds you to stay dehydrated and go to sleep early, he even tells you to eat healthy. That’s why after knowing him, you have never skipped another meal. And he will definitely coo softly to you whenever you feel insecure about yourself. That’s why you need him, that’s why you should rely on him. And the only thing Phainon ask for as a payback is your love, love him like the way he does to you. Please please because you’re his pretty girl and he loves you too much to even think that this is not a mutual feeling.

Can you really say no to him? To that adorable face and those sparkling blue eyes that seem to go lovesick everytime they catch a glimpse of you?

It was the fifth time this month, or was it the sixth? You couldn't be bothered to keep count anymore, the absurdity of the situation pushing you closer to questioning reality.

“You do know that it's illegal to break into a person's house?” you manage to croak out, senses strained by sickness.

“Break into your house?” he pulls out a chair to sit, the bowl of whatever he'd brought with him finding its place on the table beside your bed.

The near-dumbfounded edge to his question makes you deadpan, “You're so humorous, even when you're sick. How is it trespassing when we're in love with each other?”

You feel your fingers clutching onto your bedsheets, did he even hear you? Can he hear himself? To that, your conscience answers with a firm no. He'll only acknowledge what will suit his fancy, anything else is but you being in a ‘phase of denial’.

“I am not in love with you, how many times do I need to reiterate?” you stress, watching the twirl of the spoon as he stirs the contents in the bowl.

“Hush, I know you're just moody I didn't arrive sooner. I read it on that book you had on you on last Saturday. This is the part where I'm supposed to apologize and hold my ears, right—”

You release a heavy sigh.

You could not decide what begged the most concern : the fact that he doesn't see the problem in his behavior or how accustomed to it that you're getting.

A warm touch on your forehead startles you, another firmer grip on your arm stops you from moving away, “How are you still so energetic with this high a fever?” the candle atop the table flickers, a frown blemishes his face.

He leans in, you respond by increasing the distance. “I took medicine earlier.” you mutter, suddenly feeling like a guilty child.

“Did you? Good girl.” you don't need to look at him to picture the shine clinging at the corners of his lips. You shouldn't look at him for it'll reveal the barely held back cringe spreading across your face.

You're about to protest but a wave of dizziness halts you. Phainon notices the change, you find yourself wishing he wasn't so observant.

“But you haven't eaten, have you?” his hands act too familiar, too comfortable in touching you. You're forced to inhale as he cups your face in inspection, pretending it's for work — but you know, his greed extends too far for it to be anything but an excuse.

“I did eat.” you try to assert, he remains unconvinced.

“Are you still mad at me? If so, say it, I can apologize however you'd prefer. But please don't lie to me about matters that concern your health.” a squeeze to your cheeks, shadows fall on him.

You almost want to laugh at the worry in his eyes, at the way he behaves so much like a perfect lover. If you hadn't known better, the haze clouding your sense would've made you believe him, buy that he's being sincere.

Unfortunately for him and fortunately for you, you're just a bit more distrustful than others, just a bit more cautious than he's giving you credit for — a bit too lucid to have faith in his ‘love’ narrative.

You purse your lips, you are mad at him ; just not in the way he's deluding himself to be. As you contemplate whether to snap at him or not, he releases his grip on you in favor of scooping a spoon of the contents in the bowl, ending his path before your lips.

You turn you head away, a clear rejection. You expect him to probe again but his sigh catches you off-guard.

His finger wraps around a lock of your hair, yearning stains his eyes. “This would've never happened if you just accepted to be mine.”

You soak in his words for a second. Your left eye twitches as you realize, he completely ignored every previous piece of dialogue for his agenda.

“In your dreams.” petulance coats the statement.

To your horror, Phainon easily brings the lock of your hair to his lips, his smile widening as if he's got you exactly where he desires.

“How did you know? I do dream of you, everyday.” sparkles float around the air of his face.

You find yourself grasping at straws, how does one wake up a man who pretends to sleep? A voice in your head interjects, perhaps it is for the best you cease these attempts altogether?

“Now, won't you continue to be a sweet girl and eat up?” his words are honey, his smile is blinding and oh so dreadfully, there is adoration in his face, in his every step.

It has alarm bells ringing in your head, because it doesn't make sense.

“No.” you sharply deny, pushing the spoon away again.

“Why not?” you notice just at the nick of time, there is an edge to his voice this time. A crack forming in that perfect face.

“Because I don't trust you. What if you mixed something weird in it?” that is an understatement, your distrust for the man stretches further than the food he offers.

The elders always say, if something is too good to be true, it is too good to be true. ‘Love’ is not reason enough for you to believe Phainon's apparent devotion, his benevolence. No man would squander his time and resources only to back it up with such an easy reasoning — at least, not a man like him. Even if he says it till your ears bleed — you will not believe him.

The Chrysos Heir's hum interrupts the silence, “Then, if I do this...”

Your quizzical gaze falls on him, he holds your stare and you feel a kick at your ribcage. Struggling is useless, but you try anyway ; if just to be petty, if just to drive your point across, if just to survive. He squashes your attempt with an insultingly easy grip, showing you exactly how futile it is.

His thumb parts your lips with an insistent press, joining his pointer finger in holding your mouth open next. Your nails scratch at his glove in a pitiful attempt at getting him away, his free hand holds them both captive.

His parted lips shrinking the distance is the last thing you see, before you close your eyes shut. You would breathe if your lungs hadn't given up, the increase of strength in Phainon's grip seizes you with fear, makes it feel as though your blood froze with dread. Your instincts stop kicking, accepting its place in the serpent's jaw.

You feel a sharp kick of spice on your tongue, washing through your parched throat. A force has you closing your mouth, holding it in place until the content has been swallowed.

You heave as if you reached the surface from an arduous dive at last, mind working overtime, trying to process what just took place.

A clink of the spoon as it's placed on the bowl startles you, Phainon closes his eyes, a smile nearly splits his face in two.

“That's more like it. See, it was delicious and perfectly free of questionable substances, no?”

Phainon's smile breaks into a chuckle at the astonished look on your face, you feel a twist somewhere inside at the way derision drips from its tune. But before you can observe further, you feel a swipe of his finger on your lower lip. You make the mistake of glancing at him and he utilizes your mishap to make a show of licking the residue from your lips clean.

If you were skeptical about it before, you are certain now — this man will be your doom.

SIKE.

[boytearscore]

i dare you to try. — chris sturniolo.

summary: you finally decided to join a car video with the triplets after years of them trying to convince you to, but when the topic “who’s more stubborn, you or chris?” is brought up, things take a peculiar turn in which chris is sure he can be the first guy you beg for, so you dare him to try.

warnings: fem!dom, chris!dom, smut, teasing, foreplay, swearing, choking, orgasm denial, size kink, bdsm.

author’s note: this one is for my chris girlies, initially i wanted to make it oneshot, but i love to tease you guys so it will be divided in two short parts, the second one will be released tonight so don’t worry and just enjoy!

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 (𝟷/𝟸)

everything started after you filmed a video with the sturniolo triplets, you’ve been friends with them for a while and after much pleading, you finally agreed to be a guest.

it was the talk nonsense and just hope it’s funny type of shit, so you didn’t freak out too much about it.

all went smoothly, you were having fun and laughing hard every five minutes, but then they changed the topic to who’s more stubborn, chris or you.

suddenly you both were arguing about it, leaving a nick and a matt almost dying from laughing.

“bro, you’re basically a child!” you point at chris’ face and roll your eyes. “remember when we all told you to NOT drink too many energy drinks, so you inhaled fucking four and almost died from a heart attack?”

nick nods and matt is just out of breath, staring at both of you. chris crosses his arms, preparing his comeback and squinting his eyes at you.

“why is this relevant?” he asks, raising a brow. “you’re the one who refuses to drink water because ‘it tastes bad’, you’re just dehydrated, dude! drink water, it’s not that hard.”

as the back and forth argument continued, nick just looks at the camera and says:

“point proved.” he laughs and then grabs his phone. “i wonder if one of you would actually admit you’re wrong one day.”

you two look at nick, and matt agrees. “yeah, besides being stubborn, you two are also too proud.”

“none of those things are true.” you yell at matt, but your voice is shaken from laughing so they all laugh too. “i just like to stand my ground, and this little boy right here wouldn’t convince me to do shit even if his life depended on it.”

chris was dumbfounded with so many insults, but what got to him was “little boy” and the fact that you underestimated him. he was indeed too proud, but he was very confident as well, and never really had to work hard to get what he wants when it comes to his needs, so that made him hungry for proving you wrong.

unfourtunately for him, you were just exactly the same, but worse.

he looks at nick, and then at the camera, a smirk forming on the corner of his lips.

“make sure to edit this part out of the video.” he says, and the three of you just stare at him with big question mark faces, then his eyes turned to you, he had a determined expression and that just made your curiosity grow bigger within every second.

“you can say all you want…” he starts, the smirk turning into an evil smile. “but i’m sure i can make you beg.”

there was silence, an exchange of looks between you four and then the loud noises of laughter.

“beg you to do what, chris?” you ask him. “the only thing i’d beg you to do is shut the fuck up.” you leaned against the car sit, since you both were next to each other, all he did was incline his face closer to you.

“to be submissive for the first time with a guy.” he whisper into your ear, making sure nick and matt hear it too. they both are in shock, amused and extremely invested and you… well, that did not surprised you, to be honest. you always tell the triplets about your love life, how you deal with guys and so did they. there was definitely similarities between you and chris. such as, never dating, never being clingy and most importantly, always being on the dominant side.

you grin at him with arms crossed, faces still close because he didn’t back off after saying it.

“i dare you to try.” you reply with a firm tone and he chuckles while nick and matt are losing it in the back seat.

“holy shit…” nick murmured with his hand over his mouth, eyes paying attention to every detail of your mannerism to see any kind of resistance or fear on you, but he got nothing.

“so...” you finally break the silence, checking your lipgloss in the rear mirror and then turning to chris. “what do i get if you fail?”

he thinks for a while and bite his lips, trying to think of something that wouldn’t risk his social life or reputation. he knew you and your thoughts, nothing too good would come out of your mouth if you choose.

“if i fail, which i won’t…” he begins and you give him an eye roll. “i’ll listen to every command of yours, not complaining or being stubborn, and the hardest part…” he says, sighing. he can’t believe he’s about to say that. “i’ll admit i’m wrong.”

you think for a moment, plotting the most unspeakable things inside your head. there’s no reason to not agree since you know you won’t lose.

“you got yourself a deal, little boy.” you tell him, shaking his hand.

“what the fuck?” matt yells and all of you laugh, continuing the video until later that night.

[yandere-wishes]

｡⸝❀Desert Rose ❀⸜｡

𐙚 Yandere! Paul Muad'Dib Atreides x Reader x Yandere! Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: You miss the desert. Miss the sun and the sand and the place where they buried your heart. So you run and pray that they won't catch you. 

⁀➷Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies blood and gore, bloodplay, knifeplay, injuries, Feyd being Feyd. Paul is high on spice for 60% of the story. Part two will be much more fluffy. 

The thing they don't tell you about the desert is that it's alive. A breathing creature with feelings and a beating heart.~💜

There's blood on the Sietch floor, red and thick and sacrilegious. 

You thought you had run far enough, fast enough. You thought you had escaped. 

How terrifying it is to be betrayed by that which you love most. How terrifying it is when you've forgotten how to harmonize with that which love most. 

That applies to the desert.

That applies to people too. 

There's something about the sun that's never been more poetic. It's harsh in its lashes, a cruel master, reminding you of what you'd been born into. It beats down something terrible and you can't help but suppress the frantic giggle that escapes your dry lips."You're so mean" you mumble, the glimmers muddle your focus. You see silhouettes of blue-eyed warlords and tar-painted gladiators. Feel phantom kisses rummage across the hollow of your bones. 

All of this is too familiar.

It makes you sick. 

Back then your father had reveled in Muad'Dib's coming. Proud to meet a warrior such as he. He'd spent hours refining his war plans, polishing his battle tactics. It's always such a strange site to see excitement in such a strict man. 

He introduced himself as destiny's child when he arrived. Dissolved and dehydrated with curls coated in sand. He was the desert's golden boy sent to fulfill every prophecy you'd ever been told. 

And yet, to you, he'd simply looked like just another heartthrob.

Just another boy's name to whisper to your friends during blasphemous games under the starry night sky. He had been no different than any tribal leader or warrior's son. That was truly such a miraculous time, back when such an atrocious thing had been merely a girlhood toy. 

Your father hadn't proposed marriage or alliances. That's not the Freman way, not during war. That doesn't stop the renegade gaze you've felt since he arrived. There's something stalking the desert, something too powerful to contain. You feel its chill, like the space between breaths before the breaching of the shai hulud. 

"You can call me Paul..." 

Lisan Al Gaib

The desert is a cacophony of dreams and nightmares. Deadly once the blood-deep navigation atrophies from constant complacency. You try to remember the prom of each foot. When to straighten, when to bend. Each step feels like treading through a mirage, murky and viscous. Too thick, too loose, you think you might sink. Fall through a false bottom into something great and endless. 

There is no bottom, no end. 

Only darkness, vast and perpetual. 

You wonder if that's what it feels like to be swallowed by a sandworm. If there is security in its infinite stomach. If it's better than the Arrakeen Palace. Daunting, soulless structure, home to monsters and killers. 

The sand grows thin. 

It's always the thinnest nearest a Sietch.

You made it...

You wonder why it had all felt so gruesome, so unholy. Paul's cacoon of naivety was breached, its remnants nesting underneath his feet, their spines snapping with each ground-quaking step he took. Arrakis had given birth to something monstrous, something ravenous. Yet all you had seen was a youthful face that tells not of horrors or suffering. It only promises freedom. 

Freedom was supposed to taste sweet, satisfying. The first sip from a childhood oasis. And you guess it had, for a little while. Before the realizations set in. Anyone who so openly grants freedom can take it away too. 

Paul inhales the reverence of the crowd. Savors the saccharine taste of victory on his tongue, before he spits out the essence of his hatred. Watching the blood scorch away under the desert sun. 

He swears he sees the sand dunes bow from the corner of his eye, they're towering magnificently bestowing something lethal onto him. Something they've yearned for, something fragile, something ancient. He deems it responsibility, duty, divinity and spins it into an enamelware crown.

Paul had become king. Not emperor, not sovereign, not overlord. Not yet at least. He's not the boy-prince from a distant planet anymore either. There no longer exists a boyhood carved of temperamental weathers and jagged salt-covered rocks. No more fairy tales of great dukes fighting bulls by the seaside and young princes running off on fighter jets to save mystical witches. There is only the sand and the giants underneath it, only a prophecy cracked whose ichor covers him in gold and stardust. 

He is Muad'Dib, savoir of Dune. 

Paul's eyes rummage through the crowd. Hungry, desperate

seeking out something, someone whose devotion does not show. 

He memorizes the scowl on your face, the dip of your lips. How he longs to feel them under his thumb. 

Duels concluded in death. When the ground has been fed its blood depts. When Jannah and Jahannam are granted another soul. That is when the victor arises. Duels end in death, in a chipped knife and a broken body on the floor. 

This one did not...

The memory still haunts you. 

Not in its breach of rite.

Nor its contradictions to morality.

But in what comes after.

The fear of the thing that was allowed to live...

Paul hadn't killed Feyd. Beaten, mauled, tamed. But not killed.

There is a rostrum made of sand and burnt bones. It was meant to serve as a victory throne, a symbol of a war and a revolt. You aren't so sure about that anymore. Not when it's being desecrated, by a survivor of the very thing it vowed to eradicate. Atop the dias, Paul stands, fingers swathed tightly around a pale, maimed wrist. The crowd stares, speechless as the prophetic son appoints a battered and bleeding Harkonnen Na-baron as his aid, his duke.  

Feyd-Rautha is all jet blacks and blood reds. His eyes hold daggers, impaling anyone who dares to look into them. You can not fathom why Paul, the one who promised a paradise and an end to the Harkonnen oppression would do such a thing. You never thought him holy, you didn't consider him cruel either. 

Paul hands over the spice trade to Feyd. He speaks of concentrated zones away from life. Somewhere deep and forgotten. He says "virtuous" as if it's a sermon only he can comprehend. "We need the funds, we need to rebuild, to fight. The spice is valuable and it will not hinder the awakening of Dune. My cousin will oversee its harvest and trade. The finances will be brought back to Arrakis, back to the Freman."

Maybe it's sorrow, a slithering nuance that won't leave. Maybe it's guilt twice folded and misplaced. Desperation for a kinsmanship

with a family, he had thought all lost. The way he looks at Feyd speaks of hope and trust and everything else a little boy feels when he's dragging his friend by the hand through a forest made of splendor and ideation. But Paul isn't a little boy anymore and Feyd has never been naught save a killer. And you, you can't help but notice how the Muad'dib begins to lose his golden hue. 

The Sietch is cavernous, domed ceiling that expands into the rocks and sandy tiles that stretch as far as the eye can see. Unaltered spice particles dance in the gentle filtered rays of the sun. It feels like home. Like freedom and paradise and everything else those two men had stripped you of. Your body slumps by one of the etched walls. Awaiting your fellow Freman to find you. 

There is a stiffness in the Freman, an elegance that must be mastered. You'd once thought it inherited, a mere bone structure passed on from mother to child. You're not so sure anymore. The stiffness reverberates off the Sietch walls, it's obvious now that it's never been about straight spines and high-held heads. It's the ideals, the loyalties that Fremen carve into their souls. Sooner or later someone will inform the king of where his darling hides. 

All of Arrakis knows who you belong to. 

One of the older women tunnels water down your throat, she cradles your head and shushes you when you try to speak. She spills advice, motherly advice, into your veins. Telling you of how blessed you are to be chosen by the Lisan Al Gaib and his blood. Her embrace is a vice, coddling suffocating and not at all unpleasant. There is a sleek comfort between the witherd silk of her chador. It heartens fatigue residing stubbornly between your bones. It causes your eyes to fade and your mind to race. You forgot the terrors that lay outside, the advancing menace carrying crystalknifes and a voice that shakes worlds. Darkness beckons, a welcomed change. For the first time in months, you feel safe...

You are still a Freman, born of sand and spice. There is a future somewhere with palm trees and rosa persica. You intend to find it, to hold it between your hands running tired fingers over soft cloud-light edges. Arrakis has stood for longer than most planets have existed. You refuse to abandon its fate to a spice addict and a manic.

It's obvious, isn't it?

Maybe it always was...

Arrakeen palace is shaped like a heart, something eternal ungraved. It was young when you first marched through its grand gates. It had felt no less threatening than the sandworms beneath your feet. The spice that flew through the halls was suffocating, a distant, permutated relative of the elixir that had raised you. 

Paul's chancery is something empty, a cut out of Kaahgel masquerading as a citadel of dominance and perspicuity. It, much like the rest of the palace is novice and new. Paul sits in an awkwardly placed plush parlor chair, one retrieved from Caladan no doubt. He squirms in his seat as if his body has too many angles to fit properly in the rounded chair. He's far too accustomed to soft sands and jagged boulders. To sitting cross-legged on something loose and malleable. This luxury is unwelcomed, uncomfortable. You only notice Feyd when his demonic eyes suddenly land on you. He's languidly draped on the carpeted floor. His back half propped up by a quarter-painted wall. He's feeding slices of fruit into his mouth, savering the nick of the knife along his tongue. 

They look so innocent. Sinless, carless little boys playing in a sanctuary fort. Hiding from life and its crushing expectations.

Paul follows his cousin's gaze, he's out of his seat and across the room before you have time to knock. You note the blackness under Paul's eyes, how the synthetic blue feels distant and sunken. Almost as if they're looking at you from meters inside a cave. He's wandering through the twilight of exhaustion. Paradying awakeness like a lost bat caught in the afternoon sun. He's only surviving on artificial energy from the spice he so readily consumes. 

There is an exhilarating lilt in the timber of his voice. A galvanization in the way your name spills from between his lips. "What brings you here?" Paul's fingers dance across your shoulders, gripping them as one does their favorite toy. His eyes hold a fragile reverence, something unstable, denating with the slightest breath. "Lord Usul..." you begin, eyes bouncing between the sandy beiges of the walls. "You don't need to be so formal. Just say my name, like the first time we met." His nails start to dig into your arms, a jovian strength only a divine may possess. You don't remember leaving a deep impression. 

"Paul, I-I need to talk to you about..." Your vision cuts to Feyd, a hidden flare penetrates his legs, you don't dare look the Harkonnen in the eyes. He's far too feral for such raw exhibitions of hate. Yet you want him to feel your abhorrence, your detest. Paul understands, he knows what you're going to say before you've even finished rehearsing in your head. "Feyd doesn't mind, you can talk freely in his presence, I promise you, he won't bite." You swallow the need to argue, to protest, he bites, he definitely bites, and lacerates and kills...

It's easy to fall between the crevices of his voice, to allow the gentle nudges to sway your decisions for you. You wonder if the words coming from your mouth are even truly your own. They had sounded so absolute in your head. So firm. Now they sound dented, feeble, like a child begging to remain awake. You tell the king of how you disapprove of the spice trade, that it should be ceased. Its termination can only benefit the war, hindering the galactical navigation of your enemies. Paul listens with a distracted sort of attendance. His eyes melt into you, tracing your features with a delicate precision. You feel like a map, laid bare, feeding him information. Information he ignores, opting to busy himself with tracing continents and oceans. "Paul please listen" you beg. "Please". You notice an ignited flicker in his eyes, snapping him out of his lucid trance. "You know, since you feel so strongly about...everything. Maybe, maybe you should stay here. With us. Be the queen or duchess or whatever. You can help us rebuild. You can-" 

"What?" Your body jerks back, his fingers don't leave your forearms, pulling you back, closer. "Lord Usual...Paul...what are-" Something slithers between your bones, your skin, your muscles. Pushing past the cracks and sliding inside you. His mind grasps yours, echoing his desire, mapping out its constellation between your crux. 

Paul feels in blues, blues that make up the nuance between worlds. 

The ocean behind the largest dune

The lake beneath the greatest mountain.

The lamination of spice over one's eyes. 

It somehow ends with you. Covered in a color that mimics ambitions and dreams and something practically attainable. 

You feel him reach out, pushing you back into the physical world. Away from the luminous tints and flickering landscapes. 

"I'm saying that everything I do reminds me of you. It's hard not to dedicate every single breath to your memory." Paul's eyes are blown wide, there's a lament carved into his voice. He's pleading, desperate, like trying to chisel rock with a pebble. You don't like where this is going, don't like the mania, the love that's painted so vividly on his face. Your stomach churns, false ecstasy pumping in agonizing doses. This is wrong, you shouldn't feel flattered, gleeful. This isn't a miracle or a blessing. It's a curse, you know this, you have to run to escape. But something in you freezes, a sickly silver of devotion, of habit, a tradition force-fed into your soul keeps your legs stiff and still. 

Devotion is such a slippery thing. Always so close to suffocating. Sometimes all it's good for is a knife that kills. Just a grain of salt in a pulsing wound. 

Your eyes flicker across the room, trying to look at something, anything but him, anything but the Muad'dib who could make you grovel at his feet like a doll without even opening his mouth. It's only in your frantic search for an affix point, that you notice the beast is missing. His dominion left empty. You feel a chill in the room. Something stalking closer, something lethal and rogue. You scream shriveling into Paul's arms as someone grips your waist from behind, encaging you. "You were right cousin, she's as beautiful as you described...and as brave." Your breath hitches, he's touching you. Your body twitches as a cold sweat breaks. "Paul" you plead looking up into his electric blue eyes. He only smiles, contorting his features into something they're not, something soft and arrogant. You see triumph shimmer through his mind. He's won a game you didn't know you were playing. Crowned victor by fate and circumstance and...

and prophecy.

Paul cradles your cheek in his hand, tilting your head up to look at you. 

 "The first time I set eyes upon you, I knew you were the girl in my dreams. The desert rose beckoning me to Arrakis, to Dune. Don't you see, we've been bound by fate?" 

No. 

Feyd slowly licks the shell of your ear, he hums in satisfaction, an action you didn't know could be laced with so much malice. He murmurs something into your jugular, something too violent to decode. 

No.

Please no. 

It's easier to love than to be loved. 

There's a jolt that rings you awake, something violent crawling under your skin. You feel it before you witness it, witness the cold and loneliness not viable in the desert temples. 

The halls scream in silence, 

Hollow, employed out. 

"Hello?" The eerie reverberation of your words leaves you shivering. Scraping along the walls, tumbling into doorless rooms trying to find someone, anyone. You can't remember the last time you'd been alone. 

Utterly alone.

You didn't notice it at first. Didn't notice the unnatural stillness and the deafening silence. there is no life here, but it takes a practically mangled corpse for you to look down at the floor. 

There's blood on the Sietch floor, red and thick and sacrilegious. 

You thought you had run far enough, fast enough. You thought you had escaped. You turn and you run, back from that which you came, feet thundering across the sand-dusted floor. You don't know where you're going, why even run? Helplessness swells inside you, coiling in intricate knots. Only to snap violently when you cross the third threshold. 

The corpses lie at his feet. your frenzied brain tries to count them, only going up to eight before it forgets what comes after. There is more, more bodies, more blood...more bones? But you can't focus on anything else except the glabrous man standing over them, knife pointed downwards, dripping into an endless sea of red. 

Your father used to tell you tales of rivers made of blood. Of mad men claiming divine crusades as they fed bodies into the endless stream. 

You never thought you'd witness it.

It shouldn't feel as conflicting as it does. 

"Darling..." Feyd's voice is gravel on gravel. Rough and coursed. It grinds against your skin reawakening every half-healed scar. 

"no, dear maker, please no" Feyd's gaze rakes over you, lingering on every detail. Toying and probing, much like a predator sizing up its frightened prey. "I missed you" his voice is purely threatening, mocking, he wants you back, needs you back. You can't be forgiven for this deliberate offense.

You try to bolt passed him, it's like a gallon of adrenaline has been shot straight into your chest. There's a scream in the air, you're not sure who it belongs to. you make it to the hallway leading to the contraction arena. Where the bearers of the water of life are nursed. You can see the stone-carved stairs and someone sitting there...

The ground slips beneath your feet, the red liquid having leaked under your soles. In the next breath, you're plunging into redness, shrouded and engulfed and bathed in the blood of your own kind. It feels warm and safe and disgusting. Like watching the stars of your favorite constellation collapse within themselves. It's a destructive kind of comfort, one that only ends in pain and bruises and fractured bones in places you can never wholly identify.

You're drowning, 

the more you thrash the harder it gets to stand. 

You feel the blood entangling you, weaving around your body like a net. 

and then like a shadow, he's over you. 

Looming with the promise of pain, of the misery of the savagery only he can offer.

"Feyd..." his name is razorblades upon your tongue. Your eyes catch his, distant voids colliding. Since when did you start looking into his eyes? When did the torture become worth it? His fingers ensnare your jaw, pushing cheeks and bones together. Feyd straddles your body, knees splashing into the blood. He tugs your head forward violently, before pounding it onto the floor. You moan out in pain a mangled, distorted noise. He only chuckles. Before repeating the motion. "You ran from us, you left us. I should kill you here and now. Bleed you out with the rest of these traitors!" it's hard not to notice the pain his voice harbors, odd how even a monster like Feyd can have his feelings hurt. He lifts his knife, wrapping both hands around the handle before plunging it into your abdomen. You choke, on a shriveled scream or a throat filled with blood you do not know. The colors are dulling and pulsating, somehow too dark and too bright at the same time. Everything feels like it's made of flowing water. Precious streaming water. You can feel the throbbing at the back of your skull, you feel the giddy patter of your heart, and the nervous ticks of your hips under Feyd. 

Feyd...

Has he always been so beautiful?

Your body feels so hot and your mind feels so distant. 

Everything feeds into his endless beauty. 

Why are your lips pulsing? 

your teeth sink in, trying to still the need to kiss. 

"What's wrong princess, trying to play innocent? I know your tricks."

Feyd traces your lips with his. Fingers snake into your hair, pulling at odd intervals. "my sweet stupid little girl" he whispers, a curse and a blessing. He sucks on your bottom lip biting it harshly. Slipping his tongue between your teeth. His kiss is possessive, and swallowing. You feel yourself sinking deeper, wanting him to consume you whole. When he pulls back you feel like you can't breathe, you only existed within his kiss. It's the last thing binding you to this world. 

But then his head dips down. Leaving open-mouthed kisses upon the gushing injury. Feyd drinks deeply from your open wound, ravaging the blood and pushing in silver of a forgotten moonlight. The way his tongue laps at the gaping hole and torn ligament sends a shutter up your spin. When he lifts his head again you watch mesmerized by the way your essence drips from his lips. He kisses you again ferocious and deep and all conusiming. 

You feel so lost and so found.

Grounded and afloat. 

It's only when a scream, a familiar one, in a distance distorted sort of way, rings across the hall that you start to pull away. You push yourself up, palms slipping on the liquid life. From behind Feyd, you notice a man and a women. Young, scared. There is revulse in their blue eyes, yet you can't navigate its direction. You're sure if you weren't bleeding out you could identify them, you're sure you knew them in this lifetime. You hear the blood gushing, hear the crisp whistle of the blade as it slices through flesh. 

Once

Twice. 

Only then does the alluring migraine sober. The metallic tang of blood wafting through the air makes you sick. It's odd how the repugnant scent had alluded you until now.  Even if you'd been lying right in it. You wonder if such a scent would bother them. You doubt it, they tend to revel in the red glory and its hypnotizing associations. 

"Took you long enough, cousin" Feyd's head is turned watching as Paul steps past the corpses. His eyes are vibrant, a sapphire blue that cuts through time and space. He kneels next to you, gaze devouring you in your pitiful state. "why did you run?" he is cold, hurt. His blue eyes betray a degree of relief hidden by a defrauding glower. "I-we love you, you mean everything to us." You look away too exhausted to put up an argument. "I missed being home." You mumble. You swore for a minute something akin to comprehension ripples through the air. You're too delusional to believe in anything solid anymore. But maybe Paul understands, maybe he yearns for the desert too. Maybe he'll go easy on you...

Paul's fingers glide across your stomach, scattering the dust particles that have landed on your still form. The light from the high windows glimmers off the three of you painting something holy, something right, in another world, in another lifetime. When he sees the wound Feyd created he chuckles. " Stars Feyd, at least try to keep her alive." Paul's nails gently rack across the torn ligament, idly playing with the loose skin. Feyd laughs deep and psychotic -is it wrong to say you missed it?- "I couldn't help myself, you should have seen her. Eyes blown wide covered in blood. Stars I just want-" you interrupt him with a low moan. Paul rubs his calloused thumb over your wound, soothing the cut before he presses down. Hard.  

 when he hears the moan he presses harder. Making you wither and hiss. "This is a punishment, (y/n), you're not supposed to be enjoying it." His fingers slither into the open wound, stretching out the ligament " You jolt and holler and cry, begging him to stop. "You're my oasis, the only thing I love in this world. But you ran. YOU LEFT US." His words glitch and crack, the voice shining through penetrating you with a knife seeped in guilt. "I'm sorry." you choke out, only to be rewarded by another harsh cut from Feyd's knife. "I'm the daughter of the desert..." you protest, tears slipping past your hooded eyes. "You're our lover" Feyd barks defensively, aggravated. When the tears begin to leak the pain stops. "Don't waste your water" Paul mutters, wiping away a tear and sucking it between his lips savoring your delicate taste. 

Paul cradles your bleeding head in his lap, lowering his to kiss your crimson-soaked lips, "I love you" he mumbles against you, trying to press the core of his words into you. Making you feel him, making you believe. Feyd tucks your hair out of your face. Slowly pulling you up by your shoulders. The thin smile he offers is such a rare sight it makes your heart explode.

Why did you run away?

Why did you leave the ones you love most?

Your heart is laying on a bed of nails.

Somehow that feels fitting. 

Feyd pulls off the top of his stillsuit, discarding the armor-like pieces. Slowly he lays in the gore, he pulls you over him. His motions slow, mesmeric. You follow just another wave trapped in the current. You're so torn and hurt, broken in ways that can never properly heal. You let it happen, it's easier this way. Slowly he licks his blade clean of your blood, he grabs your wrist places the hilt in your hands, and tucks your fingers over it. "Hold on tight," he advises as he draws your hand back and brings the knife down between his defined muscles. The moan he lets out is profane, it makes you feel euphoric, filled to the brim with the merriment of guilt. Feyd kisses you again, his tongue pushes past your teeth, his conquest of you feels Harkonnen in every way. His tongue down your throat feels like a heavenly bliss. From behind Paul breaks the back of your stillsuit, he licks a strip up and down your spine. You moan into the kiss with Feyd. Slowly Paul starts to whisper firefly kisses into each vertebrae. Sucking melodies into the frail bones. His teeth snick between the cartilage, all scorpion stings, and cobra bites. It feels so right.

Feyd is a cannibalistic star, relishing in the way your wounds bleed into his. He feeds off your pain, feeds off the pain you grant. He's delusional with a cosmic kind of lust. Pulling celestials from their homes to burn into his own body. He loves you, loves how you penetrate him with a knife clad in anathema and adherence too turbulent to understand. 

Paul is, in many ways Feyd's opposite and in many others his equal. The quintessence of the path to hell being paved with good intentions. His kisses are the desert's curse and it's love. He's an entire solar system revolving around the only two people he has left to love. 

Slowly the world grows dark. You feel it hard to remain awake. "Sweet dreams princess" you hear Paul whisper as Feyd shuffles under you. You fall into his expecting arms. Safe and strong. The day has been so long and bootless. so tiring. so vexing. 

Yet somehow, in the endlessness of the moment, it matters all so little. Paul is here and he can hang the stars upon the night sky. Feyd is here and he can slaughter the universe and call it entertainment. You are safe with them, safe and happy and satisfied. 

ngl this is the longest tag list I've ever gotten. THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!💜💜 Let me know if you want to be added to future taglists

@deertaur , @fragileheartbeats , @yandere-romanticaa , @galaxyquirks , @feedmestraycats , @peachysunrize , @slytherinholland , @missbeeentertainment , @moonchild-artemisdaughter , @shiranai-atsune , @therealoutereffect , @frenchgirlinlondon , @purplefrogella , @yzuposts , @whiteoakoak , @abundance-of-fic-reblogs , @pomtherine , @goldenatreides , @sorianis , @howibecameabadassbitch , @sansaorgana

[flemingsfreckles]

He’s Ours

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: you and Jessie have your first baby

Warnings: child birth I guess? But there’s nothing graphic related to it but better safe than sorry 🤷‍♀️

WC: 2.1k quick read :)

A/N: this was just a one shot because that middle photo of Jessie gives me massive baby fever, i want to have her babies.

“Oh he’s perfect, you made him perfect.” Jessie whispered to you. Her forehead was pressed firmly to yours and her eyes locked with yours. Tears were running down your face from both exhaustion and the overwhelming reality that you just gave birth to your first child. “I’m so proud of you, I love you. You did amazing.” She whispers, punctuating her sentence with a kiss on the forehead. Too tired to give her a verbal response you just closed your eyes and softly smiled at her.

Jessie had praised you all through pregnancy, she always made time to tell you how beautiful you looked, how well you were doing, how good of a mom you already were to the unborn child. It was no surprise to you how encouraging and supportive she had been, she was always your biggest fan, even before you were pregnant.

Jessie had been over the moon when you finally got a positive pregnancy test. The two of you had been in the process of trying for months, resulting in nothing but a pile of negative tests and more doctors visits. When you finally saw the two lines on the test you nearly passed out, Jessie had to help you sit down on the bathroom floor, getting you a wet washcloth for your face to help cool you off.

That moment from 8 months ago flashed through your mind when Jessie had held a washcloth to your forehead as you pushed, it felt like just days ago when you found out and here you were, already having the baby, time had flown by.

Your couple of two was now a new family of three. A nurse came over, placing your son on your bare chest, draping a blanket on top of both of you.

“Congratulations, Moms.”

“Thank you.” Jessie says to the nurse.

You crane your head downward to look at your son. He had a little bit of hair, his skin was red, his eyes closed. It was surreal, you couldn’t believe that the baby you had grown was finally in front of you. His hands were spread across your chest, gripping ever so slightly at your skin.

You bring up a hand, gently cupping your son's butt and back, his body fitting into your hand. Jessie brings a hand up, you watch as she hesitates before softly placing her hand slightly overlapping yours onto the upper back and shoulders of your baby. You can feel how lightly she is pressing, as if he’s made of glass.

“You’re not going to break him Jessie.”

“I know that in my mind, but I can’t, but he’s just so small.” She looks up from where she was fixated on your son, you can see tears on the brim of her eyes. The three of you stayed like that until the nurses came back to take him for some quick newborn testing. You almost didn't let them take him, you wanted to keep holding him, but they assured you it wouldn’t be more than 30 minutes and they’d have him back in your arms shortly.

You're not sure how much time had passed when you woke up, you’re whole body sore, feeling nearly hungover, tired, dehydrated, a hint of nausea.

“Hi.” You turn to see Jessie, she’s sitting at your bedside, holding your son who has been clothes and swaddled into a blanket. He’s quiet, awake but not making noise. “They brought him back a little bit ago, sorry I didn’t wake you but I figured you could use the sleep.”

“Thanks.” You have to admit you were a bit sad you missed his return but you were grateful your wife let you sleep. You couldn’t stop looking at her. The way she was holding your little bundle of joy, she was smiling, she hadn’t stopped smiling since she heard his first cries. She was looking down at him, making faces at him. She was wearing a black hoodie and a pair of training shorts from a day ago now. Her baby hairs sticking out from the hood in every direction. She hadn’t slept in nearly 26 hours but she looked perfect.

She had been at training when you called her. You actually had to call Janine, who was still working on her ACL recovery, she always had her phone on her unlike your wife. Jessie was set to take time off from training starting next week, a week before your due date, but your son had other plans and decided to grace you with his presence early. Janine thankfully answered on the first ring and went running to find Jessie. You were grateful that Janine was allowed to be running, or else she would’ve had to slowly limp or crutch to find your wife. You could hear Janine shouting at Jessie from across the pitch, followed by some talking but you were too focused on a contraction to listen. Seconds later Jessie was calling you, you hung up with Janine and got on the phone with Jessie, you stayed on the phone with her all the way until she came running into your hospital room. You were admitted to the hospital late that night and didn’t meet your son until early the next morning.

It was such a surreal feeling, watching Jessie hold him. You had seen her with other babies before, other player’s babies, friend’s kids, or just random fans' babies that she’s held for photos. That was truely what made you want to have a baby with her so badly. She gave you baby fever you had never had baby fever before you were with her. But nothing compared to the baby fever you felt seeing her with her hand on your son. You were ready to start over and have more of her babies the way she looked at him and looked at you with overwhelming love in her eyes.

Jessie stands up, walking over to you, holding out the bundle of blanket and baby. “Do you want to hold him? I can, if you’d rather rest more, just, you did all the hard work. I want to let you hold him if you want to.”

“Jessie you put up with me pregnant and trying to get pregnant for over a year, I think if anyone had the hard job it was you.” You extend your arms to her, she gently places your son on your chest. Jessie had been a saint during your pregnancy, getting up early with you when you were sick, staying up late to rub your feet. She would stand behind you and hold your belly, taking the weight off of you for as long as you’d let her. She would jump out of bed late at night to make you a snack no matter how early she had to get up. She would FaceTime you for hours on end when she had to be away. Jessie couldn’t have been a better partner.

“All his newborn tests came back good. I wrote down all the details so you could have them if you wanted but everything’s good. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a bus a little bit.” You both laugh. “But I guess that’s normal.” You point toward your water bottle and electrolytes that sat next to it, Jessie hands you both.

“The nurses and doctors are going to come check on you in a little bit too, they came in while you were sleeping but I asked if they could let you be for a bit. Since you didn’t have any issues and your vitals were fine they said they’d come back in an hour.”

“Okay.” You appreciated the heads up from Jessie, the doctors, the exams, the appointment, the stress, the test, were your least favorite part of pregnancy and she knew it, she tried her best to ease your discomfort and anxieties about it whenever she could. You were happy to know that part of parenthood was pretty much over, back to routine.

It was peaceful for a second before your son started wailing.

“What do I do? I don’t know what to do?” You’re wide eyed looking at your wife. A deep feeling of panic begins to build in your stomach. The reality that you’re now responsible for this little baby boy’s life sets in. You’ve never been a mom, you have no idea how to be a mom.

“It’s okay babe. You do. Do you want me to take him?” She wanted to help, her goal was to ease your stress. It was stressful for both of you being new parents but she knew you were experiencing it a little differently with the hormones from birth.

“No, I just don’t know what to do!” You’re on the verge of tears, you feel helpless, your son was crying and you weren’t sure what he needed. He was helpless and you were supposed to be the one to help him.

“Do you want to try and feed him again?” Jessie offers gently, you had tried to feed him earlier with the help of nurses but your son seemed to have no interest and it had left you feeling a little defeated.

“I guess.” You were hesitant but you weren’t sure what else he needed, he was warm, being held and didn’t need to be changed. Jessie held her arms out, taking him from you so you could sit up and get your shirt out of the way. While you were adjusting one of the nurses came in, letting you know that if you wanted help or assistance she was there but that you were welcome to do it on your own as well.

Jessie handed you back your son, she had unwrapped him from the tight swaddle. “The nurse said him being skin to skin might help.” You placed your son against your chest, offering him the chance to feed. You maneuvered yourself and your son with the help of Jessie until finally he had latched and was peacefully eating. You felt so relieved, finally feeling like you were doing a good job of being a mom. He ate until his mouth fell open, his eyes now closed as he drifted asleep.

“See.” Jessie whispered to you, “you do know what he needs, you’re his Mom. Even if it’s scary and new, you know how to help him. I’m here with you too, this isn’t all on you babe.” She placed a kiss on the top of your head and you craned your neck up, puckering your lips. She placed her lips softly on yours, not caring about the PDA in front of the doctors and nurses.

“You’re his Mom too Jess, his our baby boy.” You never wanted Jessie to feel like she was less of his mother because she didn’t carry him or birth him, she was equally his Mom as you were.

“I know, he’s ours.” You both can’t pull your eyes off the sleeping boy, laying across your chest, your arms holding him to you.

“I love you.” You quietly whispered to her, not wanting to wake your son from his sleep.

“I love you.” She whispered back, placing a blanket across both of you again, letting you drift to sleep while she kept a watchful eye on both of you, the two people she loved the most in this world.

[offensiunculaee]

eddie helps you through the worst migraine you've ever had

part two of my mini migraine series!

cw: migraines (duh), crying, hospital mention

author's note: this is a retelling of the worst migraine I ever had. I'm thankful that I wrote it all down for my neurologist because those notes really helped me. And again, thank you @munson-blurbs and @corroded-hellfire for reading this through and telling me how it looked.

For all things considered, your day had started off pretty good. 

It was the first real spring day so you both decided to take a walk around town and did some shopping. Eddie stopped at the local game shop and picked up some new miniatures for Hellfire and you grabbed a new pair of dice, a beautiful set with koi fish that caught your eye immediately. Yogi almost knocked over a display with his tail from how hard he was wagging it. After that you all got lunch and ate outside, enjoying the buzz of the downtown area. The weather was perfect, allowing you to finally go out without a sweatshirt and all the trees and flowers were blooming. 

On the way home, you stopped by the local dog park and let Yogi off his leash to really tire him out. You and Eddie sat down on a bench and watched him run around in circles and play with other dogs. There were multiple times where the dog would run over to you with a tennis ball in his mouth. You weren’t sure where he got it from but you still threw it for him. Other times he’d just come over and jump up on either one of you to get some love from you guys. Soon he would be too big to comfortably hold on your lap so it was important to cherish these little moments while you still could. Once Yogi jumped off and ran to chase another dog, Eddie leaned over to whisper, “He’s definitely your kid, he always needs attention” into your ear. You turn to him and scoff before punching him in the arm. 

“Shut up! He’s my kid? He’s got your energy levels and chaotic personality!” Your boyfriend leans back in with a chuckle to wrap an arm around you, rubbing one of your arms to stave off the chill that hit you both from the breeze. The wind was blowing Eddie’s hair around and the afternoon sun was starting to shine onto both of you, making his beautiful brown eyes almost glow. 

Eddie stops to think for a moment before responding, “Well, he snores like you.” 

You raise your eyebrows at the accusation but immediately hit back with, “Ok well he has your eyes and hair color. Can’t deny that, can we?” The metalhead sits there for a moment in contemplation, trying to come up with some witty response that could surely beat yours. His eyebrows are knitted and his mouth tightens into a thin line. 

The barking from all the dogs around fills the silence as Eddie spends a solid ten or fifteen seconds thinking before he replies, “Ok, you got me there… but he’s still your son! You’re the one who brought him home!”

A hand reaches up to scratch at his head after you roll your eyes and he just rests his head on your shoulder. You all spend a total of 45 minutes there, just enjoying each other's company like you always do and letting Yogi exhaust himself. He sends a video of Yogi play-fighting with a much larger German Shepherd to Uncle Wayne with the caption ‘your grand-nephew’, earning a laugh from both of you when he promptly replies ‘that child is 100% yours’.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The walk home wasn’t too difficult apart from a faint throbbing on the right side of your head - it’s not entirely unusual but it’s still uncomfortable.. You attribute the pain to the sun that was shining in your face for the better part of an hour and possible dehydration so Eddie graciously lends you his sunglasses, seeing as you left yours at home and, in his words, “They look much better on you anyway.” He takes note of your change in behavior, initially seeming very upbeat and talkative, but you get more quiet as the walk goes on. Fifteen minutes and two Excedrin later, you two finally arrive home and Yogi jumps onto the couch for his much-needed afternoon nap. Eddie is hanging up the dog’s leash after opening some of the windows to let in some fresh air. While he’s doing that, you shuffle past him and go into your bedroom and into the top drawer of your bedside table. He hears you moving bottles around until you pull out the large bottle of Advil to pop two blue pills into your mouth followed by a gulp of water. The pain has intensified and spread from beyond the side of your head and down to your forehead. It’s also making you feel lightheaded so you decide it’s best to just lay down for a bit before it gets any worse. You silently approach him from behind, the sound of your slippered feet the only sign of your approach and as you place a light kiss on his cheek. He instinctively turns around to look at you, smiling at first until he gets a good look at your face. He sees one of your eyes has begun to droop and you seem less lively than before, only giving him a forced smile that he has learned to see right through. His hands cradle your face, his own now marred with concern. You break the silence with a strained, “I’m going to go lay down for a while, I’m not feeling good.” Eddie nods in understanding and follows you to the bedroom where you’ve already drawn the blackout curtains shut. 

The first thing you do is change out of your clothes and once you’ve climbed back into bed you take another pill, something much stronger that you tend to reserve for your more intense episodes. Eddie is standing there at the foot of the bed and asks, “Do you want to be alone or do you want me to stay with you?” If this were earlier on in your relationship, Eddie might assume you wanted him there with him because you’d asked him previously, but he learned that sometimes you’d rather be alone while you wait for the attack to subside. It was nothing against him, it was just that you weren’t feeling good and didn’t want him to see you in that state all the time. This time you shake your head no and put your head down on the pillow. You’re suddenly hit with the scent of Eddie, a mix of his sandalwood scented shampoo, his cologne, and even a little bit of his aftershave. It’s the perfect combination of scents that always put you at ease so you scoot closer to his side of the bed to take it all in.

Thirty minutes pass and you aren’t feeling any better. In fact, you’re starting to feel worse. The pain has increased to the point that you’re now hyperventilating and whimpering. The pain is less throbbing and more of a sharp, stabbing sensation. You remember a headache that made you shoot out of bed and almost scream, feeling like someone just took an icepick and shoved it into the front of your head. It lasted maybe 15 seconds but you had never felt pain like that before. Your doctor said you should have gone to the hospital for that, claiming it could have been a possible aneurysm. Well, this migraine was somehow worse than that. Your whimpering soon turned to crying. It’s quiet at first, inaudible to Eddie reading over in the living room with Yogi’s head on his lap. You’re about an hour and a half into the attack where you can no longer take the pain alone and call out, “Eddie?”, but the closed door prevents him from hearing it. You try again, this time louder and trembling, “EDDIE PLEASE I NEED YOU”.

Eddie jumps up out of his place on the couch, accidentally waking the slumbering dog up in the process. His book is abandoned as he rushes into the bedroom and over to your trembling form. Your eyes are wide open with tears. You’re laying on your side in the fetal position, clutching at the bedsheets. Your boyfriend crawls onto the bed so he’s hovering over you. You don’t move your head but at least you make eye contact with him, your voice still quivering and still increasing in volume as you beg him to make the pain stop. Eddie is shushing you and attempting to get you to control your breathing and eventually calm down, but that only turns into you hyperventilating more. The hyperventilating only makes the pain worse which in turn makes you cry again which makes your head throb even more. It’s an endless cycle which neither of you know how to stop. The bed creaks as Eddie moves to partially lay beside you so your eyes meet. He takes one of your hands and squeezes it, cooing, “Sweetpea, you need to calm down. Crying is only going to make it worse.” 

You immediately yell back, “I KNOW!” before groaning and rolling onto your back with your face in your hands. Eddie is dumbfounded. He has never seen you like this before. Hell, in all the time he’s been with you while you had migraines he barely even saw you cry let alone become hysterical.

His thoughts are interrupted by your wavering voice again. “Eddie I can’t feel my leg, why can’t I feel my leg.” His face turns from worried to scared, shooting up right away. He wasn’t a doctor, but that did not sound normal. This was a completely new symptom. Seconds later, you cry out, “Eddie I can’t feel my arm either please help me.” He doesn’t say anything, instead getting up off the bed and rushing to your drawer to grab another pill. He grabs your water and manages to help you take the pill and drink it in hopes that maybe a second pill will do the trick. Eddie watches you and goes over his options in his head. Does he call your mom? She gets migraines too, so maybe she knows what to do. Maybe your neurologist? No, he doubts they’ll be able to do anything. He realizes there’s only one real option, one you’ve turned down every time your migraines get really bad.

“Honey, do you want to go to the hospital?”

You shake your head in between sobs and Eddie immediately takes action. He gets you your sandals, the easiest shoes for him to  get on your feet, and helps you up. You’re wobbling with tears running down your face. As you’re about to leave the bedroom, he briefly lets go of you to rush over to the table next to the front door and grab his sunglasses from before. He places them on you and you thank him with a sniffle. Once you two are steps away from the front door, you hesitate. Eddie looks at you with worry and you say, “I… I don’t have a bra on.” Eddie has to remind you that the doctors don’t care and goes back to helping you move. The two of you make your way out the door as fast as you can go, which isn’t much considering your condition. In a moment of panic, Eddie picks you up in his arms and rushes through the halls of the apartment complex and out to the nearest exit. He’s thanking every god there is that you two managed to snag parking spots so close to the entrance. He yanks the passenger side door open and puts you in and buckles you up. He’s in the driver's seat seconds later and begins haphazardly pulling out of the parking spot and towards the exit. Eddie’s mind is filled with potential scenarios on what's going on. Was this a seizure? Your neurologist had you tested for that last year and nothing came up. What if it’s a stroke? A brain bleed? He’s so distracted by his anxieties and getting to the hospital that he doesn’t notice your breathing start to even out and your posture fix itself. You aren’t crying or hyperventilating at all. About thirty seconds into the drive with the exit in sight, you look up and calmly tell him, “It’s over.”

Eddie slams his foot on the break and goes, “WHAT?” and looks at you with bewilderment. He looks past the sunglasses you’re wearing and sees how you seem to have made a completely full recovery. All the medication you took seems to have kicked in all at once. Your mind is clear and it’s like the attack never even happened. “Wait, so do you still need to go to the hospital?” All you do is shake your head and he lets out a giant sigh of relief, no longer clutching the steering wheel and hangs his head now as he begins to calm down and let himself catch his breath. You both sit there and process everything that just happened. Without a word, Eddie turns the car around and drives back to the parking spot. This time you’re able to get out on your own and meet Eddie at the front of the car. He pulls you in for a tight hug. Muffled by your shirt, he says,

“Never do that again, please. I thought you were dying.”

Your face is buried in his chest, and he only hears ‘mm-hmm’ before you let go of him and take off the sunglasses to look up at him. He’s inspecting your face again. You still don’t look the way you did before the attack but you’ve got more life in your eyes. Your eyelids are still drooping but now you just look tired. 

You rub at your eyes and mumble, “Can we go back inside?”

Eddie nods and wraps his arm around you, letting you lean on him as you two walk back into the building. He clocks how drowsy you’re getting - this is normal, something he sees every time you get a migraine. The two of you return to your apartment without speaking with you, taking the lead upon entry and going back to bed. Eddie follows close behind and this time joins you, holding you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He was exhausted by the whole event and fell asleep shortly after you did. The only noise that echoed through the apartment was the sound of his snoring and the snoring coming from Yogi the next room over.

[ghcstify]

✦ . ⁺ BITTER GIFT

carl grimes x fem reader

¡! warnings: enemies to lovers, death, weapon mentions, blood, injuries, angst & traumatic events

¡! a/n: this is a looooong one (specifically 3.6k words, um..) and it doesn’t really have to do with carl that much until the middle, sorry about that :c

the day you lost your parents is one you'll never forget. the sudden screams and gunshots continue to echo in your mind. you had a strong sense that you were one of the few who managed to escape the overrun camp where you and your family had stayed from the very beginning. despite being dehydrated and exhausted, you somehow managed to survive on your own for a while. then one day, you suddenly found you weren't alone anymore.

hearing footsteps behind you, you swiftly drew your knife from your hip and held it out in front of you. you found yourself at a doorway, realizing you needed to act swiftly to eliminate what you believed to be a walker. as you quickly moved past the door frame, you were met with a crossbow aimed directly at your face by a middle-aged man.

“daryl?” you heard another man speak, and with that, your anxiety intensified. you heard another pair of footsteps come up behind the guy who had his crossbow pointed at you. “put it down, she’s just a child,” the blue-eyed man spoke, and as the other man listened intently, he slowly lowered the crossbow from your face.

“i’m rick, this is daryl. what’s yours?” the man with blue eyes spoke. for some reason, you found yourself unable to even say your name to these strangers. you couldn’t determine if they were dangerous or if they had others around them waiting to harm you. you just weren’t sure. after a while, you finally spoke up. “y/n, i’m y/n,” you responded, lowering your knife to signal that you intended no harm. silence filled the air for what seemed like an eternity before rick finally spoke, “how many walkers have you killed?”

“what?”

“how many walkers have you killed?”

with the sudden question to which you had no answer to, your nervousness intensified. “i… i don’t know, i lost track,” you responded, hoping that not having an answer wouldn't cause any trouble. “how many people have you killed?” he posed yet another unusual question. with that question remaining unanswered, you took a deep breath before replying, “two.”

“why?”

why? what did he mean by “why”? given that your response to the “why” question might be hurtful, you took a moment to collect yourself before addressing yet another question. “my mom and a stranger because they asked me to,” you answered. rick gave daryl a sidelong glance, which left you confused. you still couldn't decide whether they were good people or not.

“we’re part of a larger community, you look like you could use it,” rick mentioned. you had observed daryl's silence, suggesting that he was likely a very reserved individual. at first, you were unsure of what to say, realizing how big of an opportunity this was in such a world. searching for the right words, all you could express was, “really? i would love to.”

before you realized it, you found yourself in an actual car with rick at the wheel and daryl in the passenger seat, heading towards what he described as a “large community.” the journey was marked by an unsettling silence, which only added to your discomfort. however, if they were telling the truth, it would be worth it.

upon finally arriving at the community, you looked out the window to see actual houses still standing, walls fortifying the area, and a sign that read, “welcome to the alexandria safe zone, mercy for the lost, vengeance for the plunderers.” observing this sign and noting all the pre-apocalyptic details, you genuinely felt a sense of safety and assurance that nothing bad would happen here.

rick had opened the car door for you, allowing you to step out and walk through the gates of your future. this gesture made you reconsider your initial impression, thinking that perhaps these people were not as bad as you had thought. taking everything in, rick began to speak, “if you don’t mind, my son’ll show you around. is that okay with you?” quickly nodding in response, daryl spoke up and instructed a middle-aged, brown-haired woman to open the gate. as the gates closed behind you, she approached and began to examine you. “i’m rosita,” she extended her hand towards you, signaling for a handshake. putting your hand in hers and shaking each others hand, you replied, “i’m y/n.”

after sharing your painful past with rosita for a moment, you hear footsteps approaching. turning around, you see a boy wearing a cowboy hat with long hair and a bandage over his left eye. “my dad wanted me to show you around,” he spoke, his voice carrying a subtle hint of annoyance. after parting ways with rosita, you found yourself walking in silence alongside the boy. “you never told me your name,” you finally break the unbearable silence by speaking up. “uh, it’s carl,” he replies, his voice still carrying that slight hint of annoyance. realizing that he didn't really want to be there, you remain silent. it becomes clear that carl isn't much of a people person, or perhaps you haven't been around him long enough for him to warm up to you.

an hour or two passed with carl still giving you a tour, yet you still felt as if he didn't like you. perhaps your gut feeling was right — maybe he really did want you gone. however, all you wanted was to make friends. after the lengthy tour was over, you found yourself sitting on your bed. unsure of what to do next, you layed down and drifted off to sleep.

months had passed, and you had developed many friendships, including with rosita, glenn, michonne, rick, and maggie; unfortunately, carl was not among them. in all honesty, you found that you didn't mind. you were beginning to feel similarly, not particularly liking him, though you couldn't quite discern the reason why. upon hearing the gossip, you learned that rick and carl had encountered someone in a gas station parking lot. you felt a pang of guilt, knowing that you were in that situation at once and you realized that you needed to take action. you decided to approach rick to discuss the situation and possibly work something out with him.

“if you decide to do what you’re going to do, i’d feel better with carl by your side,” rick spoke as you stood at the doorway of the house he shared with michonne and carl. “rick, you know he doesn’t like me,” you replied, feeling a sense of anxiety about having to work with someone who seemingly didn't even like you. “then i don’t know what to tell you,” he responded, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. as he conveyed this information, you started to carefully contemplate your course of action. silence filled the house before you finally spoke, “okay, do you think you could talk to him?” before replying, he gave you a reassuring nod,

“of course.”

and with that, you retreated to your room to figure out what your plan was going to be. about an hour later, a knock sounded at your bedroom door. for some reason, you believed it was carl, and you took a deep breath before saying, “come in.” the door opened swiftly to reveal rosita.

“i heard what you’re doing,” she said as she stood at your doorway, the worry evident in her brown eyes. “i kind of have to do this, rose,” you replied as you began to contemplate where you would be right now if it weren’t for rick and daryl. she sighed before approaching you and taking a seat beside you. “i get that,” she remarked before continuing on, “but you really don’t have to.” you shook your head from side to side, indicating your disagreement with her. “i somehow got saved, so why not save someone else in return?”

“y/n….”

she spoke in a tone that conveyed her concern for you. giving her a smile, she embraced you before expressing her feelings in more profound words, “just be careful, please.”

“i will, i promise.”

after rosita had left, your door creaked open to reveal rick, who acknowledged you with a nod, indicating that he had successfully convinced carl to work with you. the next morning, you waited at the gate for carl to arrive, eager to get this over with. despite your efforts to convince yourself that carl wasn't such a bad person, you still couldn't find yourself caring for him. lost in thought, you heard footsteps approaching from behind. turning around, you saw carl finally making his way towards you. you turned back around to head out of the gate, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself for the discomfort that was about to ensue.

rick had previously informed you both that this individual followed specific routes each day. since today was one of the days he would pass through the forest, you and carl waited for him at that location. breaking the silence, carl finally initiated the conversation, “how long were you out there?” not fully believing that he was actually addressing you, you turned to look at him before replying, “about 3 to 4 months, i kind of lost track after a while.” he nodded in response and once again, he spoke up, “where are your parents?” with carl posing all these questions, you started to think that maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. “dead,” you responded, maintaining your composure by looking at the ground.

“i’m sorry.”

before you could say anything else, you were interrupted by footsteps. you and carl exchanged a nod and with this, you both approached the man, hands raised to signal that you meant no harm. “we’re not going to hurt you,” carl remarked, directing his gaze toward the man who had just finished killing a walker. after carl had spoken, it was your turn. you grabbed the bag of food and water and tossed it to the man. “there’s food and water in there.”

addressing the bag of food and water, the man fell to the floor, grabbing it and opening it. he grasped the bottle of water and chugged it, which reassured you about the decision you had made. “i’m glad i found you,” carl stated, breaking the silence. “you were looking for me?” the man inquired as he rose to his feet. “me and her, we’re in a community,” carl dodges the man’s question with a statement that could positively impact the man’s life. putting your hands down, the two of you slowly approach the man, as you begin to speak, “we’re going to ask you a few questions. we need you to answer honestly, okay?”

“how many walkers have you killed?” carl asked, breaking the silence, his voice carrying a tone of curiosity and anticipation. “i know it’s hard to keep track-“

“237.”

“really?” you asked with a professional tone and a thoughtful demeanor. “give or take a couple,” the man responded as he glanced at the walker he had previously put down. and with that, carl asked the second question, “how many people have you killed?”

“one.”

“why?” you asked, curious to know his answer. “dead tried to kill him, but they didn’t.” he responded while looking down at the ground. both you and carl had nodded at his response.

as you surveyed your surroundings, you observed that the man employed traps to kill the walkers. “you’re making walker traps. is that how you’ve killed so many?” you ask as you draw attention to his method of eliminating walkers. “it’s only part of it…. my mom thought, or hoped that killing them would.. free their souls,” he replied in a genuine and sincere tone, his words carrying a sense of honesty and earnestness that was unmistakable. after he stated this, you and carl exchanged a glance before refocusing your attention on the man. “you know, maybe she was right,” he continued speaking, his tone growing increasingly sincere.

“but doing that, doesn’t it just make things harder for you while you’re trying to survive?” carl asked as he closed the distance between him and the man. “i… i don’t know. but you… you gotta honor your parents, right?” the man spoke once again, his tone genuinely sincere. “if i wasn’t honoring my dad, we wouldn’t be talking right now,” carl replied with a slight smile spread across his face before continuing on, “and i definitely wouldn’t bring you back to our community.”

walking back to alexandria and engaging in conversation, you discovered that the man's name was siddiq. suddenly, you had encountered a few walkers — nothing that you couldn’t take care of…. right? drawing your knife, you noticed that siddiq had fallen to the ground due to a walker, and carl looked at you. “go! help him, i got this,” you shouted as you plunged your knife into the head of one of the walkers. unaware, you found yourself trapped and fell backward onto a deer that the walkers were feeding on. your knife had landed roughly two feet away, and as you layed on the ground, three walkers had fallen on top of you.

as you attempted to reach for your gun, you felt a burning sensation on the side of your torso.

fortunately, you managed to equip your gun and shoot all three walkers. pushing their bodies off of you, you stood up to find carl and siddiq looking at you. "are you okay?" carl asked, worry evident on his face. “we should go,” you avoided his question, pushing past the two who exchanged a glance as you walked by.

the walk back was as dreadful as you had anticipated; no one uttered a word or noise, except for your coughing. to enter alexandria without raising questions about siddiq, the three of you decided to use the sewers. as you climbed in, you noticed that carl kept staring at you. “i’m fine,” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t catch on. you could sense carl's suspicion, but he chose to remain silent after replying with an “ok.”

upon finally arriving in alexandria, you went directly to your house without speaking to either carl or siddiq. you hurried upstairs to your bathroom, where you removed your flannel to reveal blood seeping through the right side of your light brown shirt. removing your shirt, you inspected it and discovered a bite mark. looking at your abdomen through the mirror, you realized the dreadful truth: you had been bitten.

“fuck.”

you began to panic, fully aware of what needed to be done. closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and opened them again. to distract yourself, you decided to take a shower to clean up. afterward, you put clothes on, dressed and applied a bandage over the bite mark.

now, you found yourself in your room, writing letters to everyone you cared for, including carl. once you had finished, you sat on your bed and began to cry, feeling as though you had been saved for nothing. beginning to feel tired, you closed your eyes.

finally waking up, you noticed it was pitch black outside. surely, you hadn't slept that long... or perhaps it was just a side effect of the bite. trying not to think about it, you started to hear commotion outside and a sudden knock at your door. believing that an enemy had somehow gotten in, you grabbed an axe that you kept in your room for protection. the door suddenly swung open, revealing carl standing there. “carl? what the hell is happening out there?” you ask, your worry unmistakable in your voice. “the saviors. come on, we gotta go!” he responds as he takes your hand, guiding you both out of your house.

from a distance, you began to hear negan's voice, and an idea formed in your mind. “carl, i need you to follow me,” you said as you turned to look at him. “just trust me, okay?” now, you found carl following you to the watch tower at the front of alexandria where he began to climb up with you. “no. stay here, please,” you stated as he complied with your instructions. climbing up the ladder, negan began to speak again, “okie dokie. you brought this on yourself, rick. you see, i was willing to work with you. all you had to do was follow a few very simple rules. well, now i see that you’ve got to go! scorched earth, you dick.”

“he’s not home,” you shout upon reaching the top as the saviors aim their guns at you.

“oh-ho! holy shit! everybody hold your fire, it’s y/n,” negan remarks with a chuckle. “look at you, answering the door like a big girl. i am so proud. rick’s not home, huh? well i guess he’s gonna get back to a big ol’ smokey surprise!”

“there’s families in here,” you interrupt him with a stern voice before continuing on, “kids, carl’s little sister.”

“well that shit just breaks my heart. there’s kids at the sanctuary, you must’ve seen ‘em,” he responds in a measured tone. “even had a little baby at one of the outposts. i wonder what happened to her,” he continued speaking before beginning to walk around.

after a brief moment of silence, negan began to speak again, “none of this shit’s fair, kid. hell, you know that. you had to kill your own mom. that is screwed up. we need someone in charge who’s willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that shit doesn’t happen. oh-ho, wait! that’s me!”

“bad stuff does happen, but we can figure this out. we can stop this,” you respond with a somewhat convincing tone before negan interrupts.

“oh now you wanna talk? see rick had it that i died, no matter what. he gave my people a choice, not me. so now, we’re gonna need a new understanding: apologies, punish-“

“kill me,” you interrupt with a tone that is both desperate and heartbreaking.

before speaking, negan moves closer to you than he was before, “what did you say?”

“if you have to kill someone, if there has to be punishments, then kill me… i’m serious,” you respond, your voice beginning to slightly crack.

“you wanna die?” negan asks with a slight smirk spread across his face.

“no i don’t,” you reply as you shake your head side to side, “but i will…. it’s gonna happen. if… if me dying could stop this, if it can make things different for us, for you, for all those other kids, it’d be worth it.”

“i mean.. was this the plan?” you ask after a couple seconds of silence, “was it supposed to be this way? is this who you wanted to be?”

with a lot of commotion in the background, negan looks away from you, giving you the chance to get away. just as you're climbing down the ladder, you hear negan’s voice, “son of a bitch, y/n! was that just a play? i thought we were having a moment, you little asshole! bombs away!”

“what the hell was that?” carl asks you as you drop down to the ground. you ignore his question and proceed to take gas bombs out of your bag, handing a couple to him. understanding that this is all part of your plan, carl follows your lead.

after deploying numerous gas bombs, you and carl find your visibility severely impaired. slowly, you both make your way to the sewers. upon climbing into the sewers, your body began to feel weak, which heightened your anxiety. stumbling over your own feet, carl swiftly came to your aid, helping you to regain your balance.

“just put me down here,” you uttered in a weakened voice. “y/n?” carl expresses with concern before assisting you to sit down on the ground. kneeling beside you, carl watches intently as you slowly lift your shirt to reveal the bite mark.

“no no no, what? why didn’t you tell me?” carl asks, his eyes remaining on the bite mark, unable to believe that this is truly happening. despite the pain, you managed to give carl the most reassuring smile you could before replying, “it was bound to happen, carl.”

“bullshit.”

“no, it… it should’ve been me,” he continues speaking as he takes a seat beside you. feeling pain coursing through your body, you begin to grow weaker and weaker. your vision starts to blur, and your breathing turns into wheezing.

clearly concerned for your well-being, carl carefully lifted you and managed to navigate out of the sewers. thankfully, the saviors had ceased their bombing, and despite the surrounding fires, carl successfully brought you to a safe haven — the church. as carl was laying you down, your condition deteriorated rapidly; it felt as though you had been thrown off a cliff and subsequently run over.

“hey…. i just wanted to let you know that i got the wrong impression of you,” you spoke with a weak voice, which shattered carl's heart. “i got the wrong impression of you, too,” he responds, his voice beginning to crack. “if i knew that getting to know you would’ve helped, i would’ve done it a lot sooner,” he continues, and his words provoke a shared chuckle before you start coughing up blood.

“carl, i need you to-“

“stop it,” he interrupts you, his gaze shifting downward. after a moment, he takes a deep breath before slowly drawing his gun. cries begin to fill the church as he slowly raises the gun to your head before he spoke in a soft voice, “i wish we had more time.”

“maybe in another universe. but in this one, it was just a bitter gift.”

and with that, the gunshot echoed through your mind, bringing the pain to a final end.

[romancefranaticstay]

⋆.ೃ࿔:･Ship on sea ⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 2

Captain! Hyunjin x siren!fem!reader

Category: angst, fluff

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You swam away from the ship, feeling the drops of his tears on your body. You dived to your hiding place, where you always sat. You felt something strange in your body, something strange. Something you had never felt. After a few days you still felt a strange feeling in your stomach, this time it was a little painful.

After a few weeks your belly started to get bigger and at that moment you knew it. You carried the child of your loved one, the child made by melted love. You still remembered the day you swam away from your captain. You missed him, ohh you missed him so much. You still had his necklace glistening in the moonlight.

Your child was born and accepted into the group of the Sirens. Your father always wondered who the person was, your other half. You wanted to tell him, you wanted to tell him about the most beautiful creature on earth, but you couldn't. You couldn't roll his name off your tongue. Your baby was a boy, immediately after he was born you saw Hyunjin in his eyes. It was difficult without giving birth to him, not being able to hold his hand.

Now the boy is four years old. You love your son so much, so much. It's your little Hyunjin. You sat in the cave while your sisters played with your son. He was already a good swimmer for his age. You were resting with your eyes closed, thinking about anything and everything. Suddenly you felt a kind of hyperactive happiness. Your heart was pounding, you were suddenly wide awake. You didn't know what it was. You ignored it.

“Y/N.”

said your sister Lalisa.

'What is it now?'

"Why don't you ever talk about his father?"

"Like I said, he's unknown."

"Don't you even know who he is?"

"No, only I know who he is."

'Why can't we know?'

'Just, I prefer to keep him in my heart.'

'Okay romantic, just keep him in your heart.'

You went to Lalisa, who was rocking your son. You picked him up again.

"Ohh you little treasure."

"Little Wade."

'What? Wade? That's not his name.'

"You never gave him a name."

'Yes, I have.'

"Why don't you tell me?"

“I've said it a thousand times, his name is Hyunjin.”

“Why Hyunjin? That's not even a Siren name.'

"Because I think it's a beautiful name, and because I'm his mother."

'Maternal behavior.'

'Teenage behavior.'

"Let me be a teenager."

"Yes, so let me be a mother."

"I'm going to be a mother one day too."

"You definitely will."

"And I want to marry a beautiful man."

'Just beautiful?'

"No, that's funny too."

"And grown up."

'That too.'

Hyunjin was tossing and turning in his bed. He dreamed about you again, he dreamed that you had a child. A little child who looked exactly like him. You were in a cave, with him in your arms. You were talking to someone. He was looking at you, he tried to move towards you but he couldn't. You suddenly turned your head. Suddenly he was pulled back and he woke up again. His heart broke again and again when he dreamed about your glowing skin. Your lips that he wanted to bite. Your hands that he wanted to feel.

Tears began to sting his eyes, but he was not allowed to show them. He was not allowed to show his weak side. He looked through his binoculars, no land in sight.

'Row on!'

he was strict. Stricter than before. Since you were gone he had changed, but deep down he was the same. His crewmates were a bit scared of him, except for Jeongin. Jeongin was his son. Not really his son, but he treats him like a son. He had found him on an island, dehydrated and about to die. He took care of him and now he has become a handsome man. He was 14 when he found it. Now he is 19. You could say he has changed a lot.

"We're still 10km from land, Hyunjin." Jeongin said.

"Okay good, we're almost there." he ruffled his hair.

Hyunjin was pacing on the deck, it was night. He was standing near the same ledge you jumped off. He leaned and looked into the water. If you knew how much he missed you, your heart would shrink. Jeongin joined him.

'The water is beautiful.'

"I know, sometimes too beautiful."

They both looked at the waves.

“You go get some sleep Jeonginnie.”

"Okay dad." Jeongin hopped inside to the warmth.

After a while, Hyunjin went back inside. He entered his room and looked at his bed. So many memories, the good times, the magical moments. He locked his door and lay down on his bed. The room was quite dark. He kept thinking about you, he thought about that one night. He felt blood pumping in his cock. It turned him on. His right hand wrapped around his length. He started jerking quickly. He thought about your body, your sweaty body. He started getting faster and faster. Until he groaned. Your name slipped from his lips. He panted.

Little Hyunjin was still sleeping. You admired him from a distance. A little angel, you just wanted to hug him. He is so small and so innocent. You saw him yawn and open his beady little eyes.

“Hello treasury.”

'Ello mommy.'

His small hands clung to you. Your father had collected some food for his grandson.

'Very good food, mhmmmm.'

you said, encouraging little Hyunjin to eat it all. He smacked his little mouth.

'Yummy.'

'Very yummy, and also very healthy.'

'Yeh, vey healy.'

'No no no, not healthy, but healthy. Heal-th-y.”

'Healty.'

'Close enough.' you stroked his hair.

______________________________________________________________

You swam with your son.

"Mommy."

'Yes treasury?'

'What is tha?'

he pointed his little finger towards the land. You looked at the land.

'You want to go there?'

'Yes, yes.'

It was uninhabited you saw, so it was safe for little Hyunjin. He also needed to develop his leg strength, so it was good to go ashore. Once you felt the land, your legs started working again. Hyunjinie immediately fell gently into the sand. You smiled seeing him like this. You grabbed his little hands and lifted him up so that he was now standing on his feet. You slowly started to step back so he could step along.

'You can do it.'

His steps were small and somewhat sloppy. He fell into the sand. You saw little tears growing in his eyes.

"Ohh, treasury, don't cry."

you lifted him up and started rocking him.

"Ohh little darling of mine."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'Land in sight!' Jeongin shouted.

"We're here dad."

"Okay, throw the anchor."

The anchor was thrown. Ten men remained on board, while five men began searching the island. The island was not dangerous, it was very small. Jeongin was sitting in the sand, lying on the ground.

"You stay here, I'll go explore some more."

Hyunjin started walking around the shoreline. You sat with Hyunijnie on the other side of the island. From a distance, Hyunjin saw two people. A child and a woman who seemed very familiar for a reason. He pulled out his sword just to be sure. Little Hyunjin started taking small steps towards you as you sat in the sand.

"Yes, almost, two more small steps."

He took two quick steps and fell into your arms.

"Yes, well done, you are such a smart little boy."

You were snuggling with him. Hyunjin recognized your voice. For a second he thought he was hallucinating. He dropped his sword and came closer. You felt something approaching you, you felt your heart pounding faster. You held little Hyunjin tightly. You stood up and took out your sharp teeth. You saw him, you looked into his eyes. You saw your captain standing there, your Hyunjin. You wanted to run to him, but you had a baby in your arms. Hyunjin stepped towards you until he was standing in front of you. His fingers caressed your cheek.

'Are you real?'

'I'm real.'

Tears stung both of your eyes.

"My son... I dreamed about him."

"He's real."

Hyunjinnie's eyes widened, he reached his hands out to his dad. Hyunjin picked him up, tightly in his protective arms. Tears fell into his little hair.

You hugged Hyunjin gently. Your son between you. His lips found yours. The two of you held your son. Jeongin came from a distance. He saw Hyunjin kissing a woman. Jeongin recognized you as 'the woman' he sometimes talked about. Hyunjin had described you perfectly. Your eyes opened again and you saw Jeongin standing there. You removed your lips from Hyunjin's lips.

'Who is that?' you pointed at him.

“That's my son, Jeongin.”

"You, your son... and the mother...?"

"I don't know who his mother is."

You immediately understood what was going on.

"Oww, I see."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hyunjin brought you back to the ship. The crew members stared at you, still remembering you. Hyunjin made a small bed for your son. Every day you were told how much he looked like his father. You and Jeongin also grew close. He saw you as his mother and you saw him as your son. You heard Hyunjinnie giggle. Jeongin was playing with him again.

“Careful Jeonginie.”

'Yes mom.' Y

ou were watching from a distance. On a rocking chair. Your hand on your stomach. You were pregnant again, you were three months pregnant. You couldn't really deduce what the gender was yet. It wasn't until you were 5 months old that you as Siren could sense it. Hyunjin came to you and kissed you on the cheek.

'Hello Darling.'

'Hello captain.' He placed his hand on your stomach.

'A little boy or girl.'

'Yes, strange, isn't it?'

'It is.' Your heart melted when you saw Jeongin playing with Hyunjinie. The fact that anyone could leave Jeongin behind is a mystery.

“I will never let you go again Y/N.”

"I'll never go again."

"I'll never let you go again."

You turned your face to him and kissed him softly. Jeongin covered Hyunjinnie's eyes.

“Ewww.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE END

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

@newtsbloodygf @trixiekaulitz @bbhyunjinie @wolfyychan

[the-moon-files]

Aaaaa, hi!! I'm the anon who sent in the fairly recent ask with the Guide!Reader ideas (martial artist mention, Dehydrated Ganon, strength possibilities, Ganon not being able to escape from Guide!Reader's voice, etc)! I'm really glad that you liked my ideas so much!! 😊 I was so pleasantly surprised to see you expand on my discombobulated thoughts, haha! Thank you so much! ^w^ I loved reading them!!

I said that I made memes for the Guide!Reader/Space Orc concept, and now I shall deliver them >:D Firstly, I'm super sorry that I took so long to share these with you!! Life decided to kick me in the shins for a hot second 😭 And secondly, I made a LOT of images for this one,, Fair warning, this is going to take up a lot of space 😭 orz

But anyway!! Here are the text memes first:

Guide!Reader: We’re playing Scrabble. It’s a nightmare.

Wars: Scrabble? Scrabble’s great.

Guide!Reader: Not when you’re playing with Zelda, it’s not. She’s out here putting in words like “ephemeral” while I’m putting in “dog.”

☆

Guide!Reader: *pointing out Magic Powder* Legend, look, it’s the good kush!

Legend: …This is the Rupee Store, how good can it be?

☆

Ravio: Hi, welcome! Are you part of our Super Savers Shoppers Club?

Guide!Reader: No, I’m not.

Ravio: :D :) :| Oh.

☆

Legend, looking into a banged-up Water Temple: …It’s trash.

☆

Time, whenever Guide!Reader uses modern slang: We need IRL subtitles. What are you even saying.

☆

Guide!Reader: My Furby died in my arms when I was a child.

Hyrule, has no clue what a Furby is: I’m so sorry for your loss.

Guide!Reader: It wasn’t a loss. I had never felt more like a god.

☆

The Chain: *getting told off by Time*

Guide!Reader in the back: …

Guide!Reader: *starts playing the ukulele* 👁👄👁 🎸

Time: 🧍

☆

Four, talking about Guide!Reader: So, I’m interested in someone…

Dot: :D Oooh! What do they look like?

Four: *slow realisation*

Four: I don’t know

Dot: Wh

Dot: What do you mean you don’t know?

☆

Guide!Reader/Ganon, about hearing Guide!Reader every dang game: The universe has a sense of humour, and I respect the commitment to the bit, but girl please.

☆

Guide!Reader, to Link once they reunite with the Chain: Now… *puts hand on his shoulder* We’re back on our bullsh*t.

☆

Guide!Reader and Wild, meeting Sidon for the first time:

Guide!Reader: …Would.

Wild: Would what?

Guide!Reader:

Wild: (Name)? Would what?

☆

Wind: When you become famous you’re called a legend because your leg ends.

Guide!Reader: What? 

Wind: Your leg. It ends.

Guide!Reader: I’m not a linguist, but I think you’ve got it wrong.

Wind: Are you saying your leg doesn’t end?

Guide!Reader: I mean, at some point it does, yes.

Wind: Then what’s the problem?

☆

The Chain, waking up at dawn to get ready:

Guide!Reader and Sky, just trying to process being alive:

☆

Guide!Reader/Time: You need to get out of bed faster than this.

Sky, struggling: I’m giving it all he’s got, boss

☆

Guide!Reader at Ganon: Your anger amuses me. Please don’t find inner peace. Please.

☆

Guide!Reader, playing through LoZ game: *at an annoying NPC* Let me ask you a very fair question. What do you do successfully? Quickly. :|

Link, trying not to laugh:

☆

Hyrule, probably: I hate it when a recipe tells me to add two cups of onions. They don’t come in cups. They come in onions.

Guide!Reader, head in hands: Please

☆

Hyrule/Twilight, looking at two NPCs: Are they lovers?

Guide!Reader, who knows the lore: Worse.

☆

The Chain, enjoying Guide!Reader’s affections:

Legend: 🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️

☆

Legend, defending himself from the “You like him” allegations from Wind: 🤸🤸🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

And now, onto the images- I hope you don't think the sheer amount of these memes is too excessive or anything!! 😭 /gen

Aaa and that's all the memes I've got! I hope you like them,,! orz

I'm also still pretty new to Tumblr, so I'm sorry if the format looks a bit weird,,

Oh, but also?? That last point you mentioned in your most recent post about the cultural differences between humans and Hylians on physical affection/touch?? I am VERY excited to see that,, 👀 👉👈 

U HAVE NO IDEA HOW IN LOVE W/UR BRAIN I AM RN

IM SO FUCKING ECSTATIC TO SEE THESE >>> ANYTHING IVE EVER WRITTEN U MADE MEMES??? FOR MY BS?????? DAOHGHOAKJSALKGFS;NDFKNDNFKJBDBFLN;

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

BLESS YOU, BEHEAMOTH SCREAMOTH MY BELOVED <3333

HAVE THAT HYLIANS V. HUMANS AFFECTION CULTURE POST HERE, THE ONLY PAYMENT I CAN THINK OF FOR THIS 😩😩 🛐 🛐 🛐

I LIED ITS TOO LONG, ITS GONNA BE A SEPERATE POST COME BACK AND PLS READ IT AS PAYMENT (but dont read the nsft/w if ur a minor)

BRO u got all the energy, and the dynamics i was pushing ilysm 🥺🫶

like the Hyrule = beloved agenda ive been pushing, bc i need more underrep links content, the way u carried the ganon eternally getting haunted by guide reader voice?? 10/10 ahdsfkhadl

AND WIND’S CONSTANT ENERGY OF A YOUNGER BROTHER LOOKIN U DEAD IN THE EYE LIKE “u kiss the homie (singular not even plural) goodnight?? Brother, that’s GAEY.”

u have no idea what this means to me, the impact, the understanding u have to have of my bs to make these, and how many posts youve read of mine?? im so sorry for ur loss w/my rough writing lmao

thats how you know youve made it tbh is if someone makes memes of smth u made, anyway day brightened, complexion clear, depression medicated, by this post

I HOPE BOTH SIDES OF UR PILLOW ARE COLD, UR PETS CUDDLE U EXTRA, U GET ALL THE GRADES/GOOD WORK SHIFTS U NEED

Peace out my beloved <3,

🌙

[archived-daydreams]

— Move your body, darling.

Summary: You’ve started working out, and your boyfriend encourages you.

Characters: Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Childe, Kaeya, Arataki Itto x gender neutral reader.

Word count: 3.2k.

Tags: fluff, slight crack, suggestive (allusions at doing the deed in Kaeya’s but nothing ex.plicit), soft and supportive boyfriends.

Author’s note: A little something for my dearest @bunny-rambles <3 I hope you like it, love !

Reblog to support your favorite authors ! It helps more than likes.

SCARAMOUCHE

Pretends he doesn’t care, letting slip some comments about how “foolish humans are to believe they can get stronger like that”.

In reality, he’s probably one of the most (if not the most) supportive of this bunch.

Need anything afterwards? He’ll bring it to you, no matter how much he grumbles. And no, don’t try to stop him, because “you are clearly not in the right conditions to do it yourself”. His words not mine, by the way.

Did you drink enough water? Or fruit juice? Or something cold after your work out? You better, he “threatens”, but honestly, he’s happy to prepare it for you (even if he pouts like a grumpy cat).

The afternoon sun is scorching as you keep count of the times you’ve folded and unfolded your legs.

Up, and down, up and down, and up, and down again. Pause. Repeat.

You can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but the idea of getting into shape and strengthening your body crossed your mind a few days ago.

Was it to be able to beat your boyfriend for once in sparring?

That would be unrealistic, thinking on it, considering how he went to godhood and back, and was reborn from his own fall from grace.

Pehaps it was to actually prove to him, that no, not all humans are so ephemeral and frail as he deems them to be.

Yes, that definitely makes more sense.

And maybe, somewhere inside of you, you just want to be a little stronger, because as attractive as Scaramouche looks obliterating enemies, you know how heavy your hypothetic hurt and loss hang over him.

So, with that thought spurring you on, you get back to your workout, some of the energy you’re expending slightly recovered with this re-discovered motivation.

Unaware to you, a pair of vibrant violet eyes have been watching you for a while. The smile painted on his porcelain-like features speaking the words his eyes conceal behind the curtain of dusk that is his hair.

Leaning against the wall and with arms crossed over his chest, the wanderer decides he can indulge for a little longer in the sight of you.

That is, until a familiar child-like voice interrupts him.

“Oh, so they are the one you cherish!”

His cheeks dye in the color of Zaytun peaches at that statement, his figure leaning off the wall in a flurry.

“Shhh, Lesser Lord Kusanali, please not now!” He whisper-shouts.

Nahida gives him a closed eyed smile, as if she hadn’t completely gotten through his practiced haughty facade.

Then, her inquisitive viridian eyes flit to you and to the ex-harbinger again.

“You know, it’s okay to show them your support. They’ll appreciate it, I’m sure!” She encourages him. “It’s the same as when you cultivate flowers.” She gestures with her small hands. “No colorful petal can truly bloom without love, in the same way no fruit will ripen without sun or water.”

And Scaramouche isn’t sure if it’s because of his mentor’s wise words, or because you look like you’re about to pass out from dehydration; but next thing he knows, he’s walking towards you with a bottle of Harra fruit juice in hand.

“When will you learn to take care?” Your wanderer scolds, at the same time his cheeks mirror the warm rays of the low sun in the horizon.

ALBEDO

Oh, he’s smooth. Like, he doesn’t even have to try to make you flustered.

And the best thing is, sometimes (when he wants to, that is) he looks innocent while at it, because he truly cares and means well.

Rest assured, once you either tell him you want to exercise or he finds out, the chief alchemist is getting his hands on every fitness book he can find.

Albedo will come up with a full training program tailored to your needs and goals in a matter of a few hours.

He’s very supportive and reassuring but please, don’t let him get ideas for his experiments, unless you want to receive (affectionate or not so affectionate) complaints from a certain blond traveler, namely, his frequent test subject.

“Fascinating,” Your lover muses, a huge manual on physiology of the human body held in between his hands. “According to this study, Dragonspine reunites all the ideal conditions to make your training more demanding, which will result in it being all the more effective…”

You can’t help but let out a giggle at how immersed into this Albedo seems to be. Sure, you did mention to him you’d like to do some physical conditioning to perform more efficiently in combat, but you didn’t intend to be subjected to a rigorous training program.

“Bedo, dear.” You begin, sitting across from him. “You don’t need to plan such a complicated schedule.” Your hand finds his over the table.

His skin is cold to the touch, yet it is not an unpleasant sensation. It always reminded you of the morning dew over the Cecilias at Snarsnatch Cliff.

Rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand you continue. “I just want to exercise a little bit more than what my usual commissions require, nothing too harsh.” You finish, softly, a tender smile etched on those lips that have warmed Albedo’s cold nights many a time.

“I know that, dearest.” He says, his fingers slotting in between yours. They always fitted perfectly, as if your hands entwined were the last two puzzles pieces containing the mysteries of this world the Chalk Prince yearns to solve.

“But, the cold climate and altitude here will make your daily commissions feel like a walk in the park.” He continues, his free hand dangerously traveling to your waist and down, and down, until it stops at the small of your back. “Wouldn’t you agree, my love?” Albedo questions, that devious smirk you can’t resist appearing on his face like fresh pink strokes of watercolor.

“Oh?” You return his grin, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, playing with the tips of his icy blond hair. ��Is that really it?” You tease, your fingertips grazing the star shaped mark on his neck. “Or is my prince eager to spend more time with me?”

“I won’t lie to you.” The alchemist answers, those cerulean eyes of his gleaming mischievously, akin to late stars in the dawn, before leaning in to close the distance between your lips.

You guess this might as well count as a workout session, with how wildly your heart is beating.

XIAO

Sweet baby Xiao, who is probably going to need more reassurance than you.

Why are you suddenly putting your body through such efforts? Are you going to leave him? Is he no longer useful enough to protect you?

Please, please, let him know it has nothing to do with it. Xiao’s gone through so much both physical and emotional pain, he doesn’t understand why you would willingly exhaust yourself like this.

You’ll probably have to sit him down and patiently explain how some moderate exercise can help you feel more energized and less tired on your day to day activities.

Once he understands, however, he’s very, very supportive!

Will always keep an eye on you, making sure you don’t overexert or stay out too late practicing; carries you back to Wangshuu Inn if you overdid it and is always nearby keeping any monsters at bay.

“Working out?” The adeptus repeats, a frown creasing his forehead, his lips forming an all too adorable pout. “Are you in danger? Is anyone after you?” Xiao asks, his golden orbs widening, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“No, Xiao, it’s nothing like that, my love.” You reassure him, one of your hands reaching out to cup his cheek. “I just want to get stronger, you know? So that I can be better in battle and feel more energized.

Battle. As much as Xiao knows you can hold your own in a fight and trusts your skill, the yaksha doesn’t like the sound of that word, even less coming from your lips.

You shouldn’t have to worry about battles or fights, he vowed to protect you; he deems himself no more than a tool to keep you safe, the weapon that slays any unfortunate who dares harm you.

Do you not need him anymore? Is the question that lingers on his mind and that he can’t bring himself to ask.

Used to your yaksha’s mannerisms, however, you can sense his discomfort.

For someone who claims to deal in bloodbath and death, you’ve come to learn Xiao is about one of the most sensitive and gentle people you could meet.

“Xiao? Does this idea upset you?” You try, taking one of his hands in both of yours, removing his glove to reveal scarred yet tender skin, and sharp claws that hold you with the softness of qingxin and glaze lily petals.

“Maybe…” the conqueror of demons nods, his gaze cast downwards. “Do you…” he hesitates, the prospect of you confirming his deepest fears more painful than the karma he shoulders. “Do you… not need my protection anymore?” He finally manages to ask.

“Oh, Xiao…” With care, you hold his face in both your palms, guiding his sunlit honey eyes back to yours. “Of course I need you. I love you, Xiao.” You whisper, your tone delicate, as if any disturbance or too loud syllable could pop and shatter the little bubble encasing the both of you. “Me exercising and practicing more will not mean I’ll ever stop loving and needing you, baby.” You plant the most tender kiss he’s ever felt on the diamond shaped mark on his temple.

And even though still concerned for your safety and wellbeing, the vigilant yaksha’s heart has been soothed by the floral breeze of your affections tonight.

From that day onwards, it wasn’t rare to see a certain adeptus scanning Guili Plains more exhaustively than usual, especially when a dedicated fighter found themselves mastering the art of their weapon.

CHILDE

Flirty and competitive little shit (affectionate) but he’s actually helpful.

Will take any chance he can get to one up on you. Don’t hold it against him, though, he’s just childish (pun intended), and loves your pouty expressions a little too much.

Finds it so attractive when your breath is labored, yet you still keep going. That sight alone, truly ignites something in him, his usually dull ocean eyes reflecting a myriad of iridescent lights in all the shades that compose you; he feels the need to kiss you and become the cause you’re breathless and… (I’ll stop here before we enter spicy territory, but you get it).

Very caring. Ajax is not new to taking care of people, he has a big family, after all. And as much as he is quite the reckless adrenaline junkie, he doesn’t want you doing anything extreme or pushing yourself to your limits (he pushes you to the limit enough as it is, in all aspects ;).

You think Ajax’s insanity is starting to rub on you.

Sure, you’d like to get more fit and strong, but did you really have to grab your boyfriend’s bow for your first practice?

You sigh, your shoulders already sore from drawing the big bow again and again.

But as they say, no pain, no gain.

At least you are grateful for Polar Star’s soft and supple handle, it keeps your hands (mostly) free from blistering.

You ready yourself, a look of pure concentration on your eyes, set on the target. You aim for the bull’s eye, drawing your elbow backwards, in a way that you hope resembles how Childe does it in battle.

You can picture the arrow’s trajectory, its tip infused in the vibrant hue of your vision, a perfect arch cutting through the skies above in a parable of elemental energy set for a single pinpoint destination.

You take a deep breath.

In, and out.

Then…

An all too familiar (and quite obnoxious, right now) chuckle makes your focus dissipate, akin to ocean waves lapping at the shore, dragging sandy architecture and paintings into lightless depths.

“And just what,” You begin, turning around, deep frown creasing your eyebrows. “Do you find so funny, Tartaglia?” You point the index finger not holding his bow at his chest. “Care to tell me?” You spat, wisps of venomous smoke stoked by your fiery annoyance tainting the edges of your voice.

Childe stands there, looking at you like the idiot in love he is, dumb dopey smile plastered on his unfairly kissable lips.

“Sorry, you’re so cute, sweetheart.” He manages in between chuckles.

You want to smack him over the head with his own bow, but you contain yourself: you really don’t want his weapon to get damaged, after all.

Instead, you settle for punching him on the arm, with less malice than your pout suggests.

“Do you want to see how cute I’ll look after i shoot an arrow through that empty head of yours, Childe?” You retort, arms crossed over your chest.

“Heh, I’d like to see you try, darling. Don’t you think I can’t dodge.”

At his answer, you throw your hands into the air, exasperated.

And, even though Ajax loves teasing you and sparring with you, he doesn’t really like making you angry, especially when you’re trying hard.

“But instead of that,” the harbinger starts, taking the bow from your hands. “How about I help you? You know, weapons are really personal things, what works for me, might not work well for you or another person.”

He likes how your eyes sparkle at his suggestion, your undivided attention prompting the ginger to continue.

“It’s true we can master any kind of weapon, but you need the right one for you, no matter which type you choose.”

The warrior’s calloused fingertips brush a strand of hair away from your face.

“So, how about finding the right bow for you? Sound good?”

“Fine…” You breathe, completely lost in the way the last rays of sunshine catch in the deep lakes of his gaze. It is not a sight you get to witness often, and you treasure it immensely.

“Alright!” Your boyfriend nods, picking you up, bridal style, relishing in your squeals and giggles as you both walk into the sunset.

KAEYA

Flirty little shit number 2, except instead of being helpful, he ends up distracting you more than anything.

He makes up for it in support, though. Granted, he teases you a lot, but he’s also your number one cheerleader.

Very touchy and affectionate, will not pass up any chance to leave a kiss here and there, or hold onto your waist.

Loves joining you in your workout sessions and matching outfits with you.

Very vocal, Kaeya compliments you a lot and always has words of encouragement to offer, no matter how completely exhausted or weak you feel.

You swear this is unfair.

He is being unfair.

He knows all too well what he’s doing and he must have had this planned from the moment he offered to help you with your sit-ups session.

“How about I hold your legs in place, my darling?” The cavalry captain suggested in an all too enticing and sultry tone. “Won’t that way be easier for you?”

And of course, you had to go and agree.

Like the fool for him that you are.

So now, you have to have his tempting lips practically shoved in your face every single time you do a sit-up.

You reap what you sow, as the saying goes, you chide yourself internally.

But oh, he’s so not helping at all. Pouting like that every time he keeps count, icy eyes half lidded, the frozen galaxies in them beckoning you closer to his presence.

“And fifty!” Kaeya finally exclaims, when you do the last one of the planned exercises for today. “You did great, my sweet.” The cavalry captain smiles, innocently, as if he wasn’t the main reason your face feels like it’s on fire right now.

“Why, thanks.” You reply, rather bluntly, uncapping the water bottle he just handed to you. At least you are grateful he had the decency to cool it with his vision beforehand. Throwing your head back, you take a long sip. Then:

“You volunteered to help and yet, you’re aware you didn’t make this easy in the slightest, aren’t you?” You accuse.

“My, whatever could you mean, hm?” Your boyfriend taunts, two slender fingers holding your chin in between them. “Or is my precious partner in need of some affection?”

“Oh you…” You whisper, the warmth in your heart overpowering how unnerved your knight makes you feel sometimes.

“Yes, my love?” That look of feigned innocence again.

You huff, defeated. But the smile tugging at the corner of your lips makes it quite obvious you are, indeed, very much needy for his touches and kisses.

Let’s just say, from the instant Kaeya’s hands found your hips up until the moment you’d find yourself laying down in his idyllic embrace, you got an extra work out session.

ARATAKI ITTO

Very supportive, but for the love of the archons, don’t ever let him join you.

Seriously, Itto is all heart and good intentions, but sometimes he doesn’t realize his own strength.

What to him feels like just some stretches, it might be for you the equivalent of running a marathon with a 10 kilogram heavy backpack on.

Practically worships you and the ground you walk on, though. He’s your biggest hype-man.

The trembling on your arms intensifies as you reach the end of your training session.

You hope Katheryne doesn’t have any too difficult commissions for you in store tomorrow: right now, you doubt you’ll be able to hold your weapon steadily.

You are proud of yourself for reaching your goal today, a gentle, albeit tired, smile making it to your sweaty features as you finish with some meditation and stretches.

The inazuman coast is so serene at this time of day, with the sun dipping behind the horizon, beams of purple and crimson striping the dusk sky.

A sigh escapes your lips, for this peace is always short lived. You wouldn’t have it any other way, however, you love your loud and boisterous oni too much for that.

A few more instants of tranquility pass, the late sunshine fading into luminous constellations riding in the faraway horizon, the crescent moon smiling down at two figures approaching your location.

“Boss! Please! Be quieter, now! It’s late and you can’t disturb the citizens at this hour.”

A knowing smile mimics that of the milky crescent lighting up the indigo infinity above you. You really admire your friend Shinobu’s patience.

“But Shinobu! [Y/n] will be so proud of me when I tell them about how the One and Oni Itto was proclaimed supreme king of the Great All-around Arataki Onikabuto and TCG Championship!”

The girl pinches the bridge of her nose, having had enough of her boss’s antics.

As soon as he spots you, Itto starts waving his big hands energetically, calling your name repeatedly, to Shinobu’s chagrin.

“Itto!” You run to his side, weakly hugging his broad torso. “Why don’t you tell me about today as we walk back home?” You propose, talking in a low voice.

His eyes sparkle excitedly. Sometimes, he reminds you of an adorable puppy; for someone over six feet tall, your oni boyfriend really is sweet.

“But… can I ask you to carry me, please?” You look away, slightly flustered. “Push ups are still a little hard for me.”

That night, the deputy leader of the Arataki Gang had a relaxed night, as she watched the retreating figures of an oni and his lover animatedly recounting the day’s many events.

[midnghtprentiss]

dating emily prentiss - headcons

pairing: ssa emily prentiss x pediatrician!femreader

warnings: fluff content, sugestive smut, cm horrors (children abuse), emily being a softie

no descriptions of hair, skin color, body shape

i'm thinking about making this idea a series. what you guys think?

You meet Emily for the first time because of Hotch. She drove him and Jack to your office in the middle of the night 'cause the poor child had a bad fever. She wasn't expecting to find you. Pink scrub with flowers and bees all over it, white shoes and a funny tiara in your hair. 

"Dr. Y/L/N. This is my coworker Emily, she drove us here." You nod, taking a quick glance at her. 

"Nice to meet you, Emily. Shall we go Jack?" 

That was the first time she was hypnotized by a woman like you. How you treated Hotch and especially Jack. She wouldn't mind spending hours watching you work. 

The second time she saw you was during a case. They were rescuing abused children and the pediatrician the BAU chose was you. Reid, Morgan and Emily stayed at the clinic while you did your best to save those children.

"Excuse me. My team stabilized four of the seven children, they're severely dehydrated and malnourished. With the right work and care everything will be alright." You lead them to the rooms. "If you're going to make them talk, be gentle and calm. No loud voices and movements. Remember, these children just experienced a lifetime trauma. If you need me I'll be in the other room."

"Yes ma'am." Emily answered quickly and received a smirk from Morgan. 

"Ask her out, Prentiss, don't be so shy." 

"That's inappropriate Derek, we are working." 

She asked you out after the case was over. She stopped by at your work to thank you for your help and asked if you wanted to have a coffee next time you're free.

You learned that Emily was addicted to coffee, that she loves fudge brownies and most of her clothes have cat hair. You were so entertained by the way she rambled and how her brown eyes sparkled when she got excited.  She laughed at your 'no sex on the first date' — you failed so bad. When both of you noticed you were breathing heavily in Emily's car. 

"I don't know why that's funny. This rule used to work every time." You gave her a look.

"I'm just too hot for this waiting thing and you weren't even complaining thirty minutes ago!"

The months were passing and you two got very involved. Phone calls when she's away, dinner at her or your place, waking up tangled in the sheets. The schedules work just fine, the cases were longer like your shifts. There wasn't pressure on labeling the relationship that was building, but was serious. This woman had you wrapped around her finger.

Long phone calls or voicemails when she's at her hotel room.

"Hey, I can't even imagine how rough the shift is today. The case is evolving to the right direction, we got different clues today and are close to catching the unsub. I saw a bookstore next to the precinct with the book you told me about, so I bought it to discuss with you on the next date. Reid said the book is fantastic and he told me a lot of curiosities about the author, can't wait to tell you everything. Anyway, call me when you can. I miss you." 

She surprises you with your favorite food when she picks you up at work. You commented that you wanted to eat sushi and the next day she showed up with sushi just for you. Or when you slept at hers she makes your favorite breakfast (with Rossi on the phone just to make sure she's not giving you food poisoning).

Emily is a morning person, you're not. Waking up with this woman looking like a golden retriever, walking around, rambling and trying to make you wake up. 

"You know Ems, if you're doing this to get into my panties you are not getting. Let me sleep." 

"It's a beautiful day, sugar. Let 's go!" She comes closer, stroking your messy hair.

"I hate you so much." You looked at her with the most evil smirk ever. 

When she started to think about the idea of marriage, kids and white picket fence she almost had a stroke. She changed her whole life plan since she met you. The idea of a love that is so light and free wasn't even a real thing in her head. The greatest part of her day was talking to you, thinking of you. You were the reason she was more caucareful at the field, she was being more open about her feelings to her closest friends. 

Girls night!!!!!!! Penelope and you bond right away. She was so excited to see the girl that was making Emily look like a love pudding.

"You are so made for each other, look at that! The way she looks at you!" 

"Penny, calm down!" You drunkenly laugh at her and pass your arm around your girlfriend.

"I think we should get shots for this moment. Y/N help me!" You give Emily a kiss on the cheek and follow Penelope. 

"How do you feel?" J.J asked Emily that answer with the brightest smile.

"I am in love with that woman and it hurts that she has no idea of how much it is." 

"She feels the same way, the lovesick gave. I'm happy you found your half." 

"I bought a ring." Dead silence between them. 

"What? Oh my God!" 

"Keep this down, ok? I'm waiting for the right moment and right now it's not. Hotch went with me and yeah, that's it." 

You slowly moved with Emily and started to have a life together. You share bills, you do chores together, buy things together. Even adopted another cat. Life was amazing, couldn't be better. Until the day she proposed.

[salternateunreality2]

The boys when they get sick

Angeal: insists he's fine until it really kicks in, then groans the biggest, baddest, saddest, daddest groans known to man for the next week.

Genesis hires a nurse for him because he refuses to get anywhere near that mess. Angeal feels this is unnecessary, but can't find the energy to argue and lets it happen so as to at least not waste the help. Genesis also offers to read him to sleep OVER THE PHONE, HEWLEY.

He's mega depressed the whole time and rots more than he might if this wasn't how his father had died.

Sephiroth shows up with a vat of specially formulated cafeteria slop because he read that friends bring each other healing soup when they're sick. Angeal thanks him and muscles through eating as much as he can, even though it is vile and he feels queasy. Sephiroth goes away proud of himself for nailing this social interaction.

Zack bounces over, a little nervous, a little too enthusiastic, a little too chatty...but he notices the cafeteria slop, replaces it with what his mom coached him to make over the phone, and promises Angeal the slop will not go to waste. He secretly feeds it to his pet wererats in the slums.

Genesis: it's a national emergency and Angeal has to work from home to tend to him.

Genesis requires fluffed pillows, hand holding, and babying to a truly epic degree. Angeal indulges him because he was there during Gen's sickly childhood: during the scarlet fever that almost killed him, the pneumonia that almost destroyed his lungs, the bug that nearly dehydrated him to death, and many other ailments that always hit little Gen extra hard.

Sephiroth stops by with his vat of slop and Genesis informs him he is kind, but Genesis is too ill to partake at this moment; perhaps later if the spectre of death ceases to whisper his name. Sephiroth asks if the spectre ever calls Genesis her child and Angeal and Genesis raise some eyebrows.

Zack was proactively banned from the premises at the first sniffle, so he sends his trooper friend with Mama Fair's soup and orders to accidentally spill or steal any cafeteria slop. Cloud doesn't know how to act around all these firsts, so he waits until midnight, breaks into the apartment, removes the slop, and leaves the soup. Zack is proud and unsurprised at his cunning, and Angeal is bewildered.

Angeal doesn't question it too hard--cafeteria slop is a health hazard, and if it's gone, it's gone. Plus, he recognizes Mrs. Fair's handiwork and makes a mental note to lecture Zack later and check in on his friendships with the Turks.

Sephiroth: zombie mode.

He's not sick. Being sick would mean reporting to Hojo. He is Not. Sick.

He's fine.

Everything is fine.

Angeal: Sephiroth, why are you telling my ficus that you are healthy?

Sephiroth, still talking to the plant: Sephiroth is fully operational. All systems fucktioning. Go. No maintenance required. Mission reedy.

Angeal: Ok, new mission: sleep on Angeal's couch until you can focus both eyes at the same time.

Sephiroth, still talking to the plant: Mission accepted, thank you Mr. President. *Passes out on the couch for 19 hours, wakes up refreshed*

Zack: makes it everyone's problem, but insists he'll be fine and everyone should stay away. While he sits on the SOLDIER break room couch wrapped in blankets and sniffling up a storm.

It's fine, Angeal, you don't have to make him your super special soup that only you can make because he's so sad and sick. 🥺

Don't worry about it, Sephiroth, the slop can be given to hungry pets in the slums, Zack's just a little too tired right now. 🥺

Genesis, it is a little dramatic to wear a full hazmat suit. Zack's sitting in a public space, not your private office. 😒

Yeah Cloud, that's the best fucking popsicle ever, but don't get too close, Zack might be contagious (after Zack hugs him). 🥹

Cloud: doesn't say a damn thing.

Muscles through infantry work until he passes out and is thrown in medical until he can stand again, then sent out until he passes out a second time.

Zack finds out later and moves heaven, earth, Angeal, Genesis, and Sephiroth to ask some hard questions about treatment of the infantry staff while force-feeding Cloud soup.

Genesis wants to know why clearly contagious troopers are allowed out of isolation while still clearly contagious. Angeal wants to know why the company is wasting human resources instead of caring for them to prevent rust, dust, and plague. Sephiroth wants to know if Heidegger would like to tour the barracks and discuss things over a hearty bowl of slop.

[rokishimizu4]

Martian Manhunter babysits some kidnapped children (but not really)

(I’ve decided that I’m gonna be finishing these headcannons and then work on my BatFam story. I have figured everything else out, surprisingly since I took Sudafed for my cold and now I’m wired as fuck)

To say that nothing surprised J’onn anymore since his time on Earth, it would be a lie and a joke that he would not find funny at all.

Honestly, he has no idea how he found the villains before anyone else. Though the slight smell of chocolate might of helped, that again the thoughts of the re-kidnapped children.

”Si, bella. Your papi is going to be fine. Our little mother hen can fix anything.” A strange male voice is what J’onn follows (invisible to the naked eye) until he reaches a nice (for Gotham) two story sweet shop with a small crew of Hispanic and Italian women and men working around the strange group, that certainly doesn’t belong there.

J’onn floats to the second floor and comes face to face with a goopy child?, that was slowly eating a plate of chocolate chip cookies. The thing freezes mid bite and stares at J’onn for a few seconds, before motioning to the others in the small room.

”Ah, come in ospite maschio (Male guest?)” I was just telling the little bambino that our mother hen is fixing up their papa as we speak and then they can answer your questions.” A man dressed in a black suit and pants gives J’onn a fanged smile, and J’onn becomes interested in how they knew he was coming.

But his attention switches to the situation at hand as the two children, twins-one boy and one girl, rush over to him (which he just noticed that he became visible without him noticing) and look up at him with sparkles in their brown eyes.

”You’re the Manhunter! You’re our favorite superhero!! Daddy says that he meet you once when he was rushing to the hospital cause our mama was having us!” The twins throw up their hands in excitement, and J’onn has a small realization that this is what Superman, Wonder Woman, and Flash must feel every time someone asks for an autograph or a picture.

J’onn keeps his eyes on the twins while his mind focuses on the situation at hand, but he can find no malicious thoughts or auras around these strange villains. Two of which returns with some plates full of different tacos, chips, dips, and sweets.

J’onn only steps away for a brief moment to inform the JL that he has found the kidnapped father and twins, and that he has the situation under control, even allowing the kids to talk over the coms to Superman and Wonderwoman. (Both of which shows up a few moments later, and informs J’onn that Batman and Green Arrow are taking over the case with the woman)

Wonder Woman can only get the children to grab onto her lasso of truth, as everyone else leaves the room to give them privacy, and learns that the twins father managed to get into contact with ‘Copper Spider’, the ‘mother hen of the group’, to rescue them from the bad woman.

The children tell her that their daddy promised that if anything happened to him, that they would need to trust a man of ice and a red wolf and follow them.

She tries to get more out of the children, but they can’t give her anything else, and soon J’onn and Superman return with the twin’s father, safe but a bit dehydrated (and no longer wanting to drink anything alcoholic again).

All three Superheroes tries to find the ‘Villain’ group, or anyone else in the shop, only to realize that it was completely abandoned and the ‘people’ were only an illusion.

The Superheroes and small family quickly return to Gotham, checks the father into a hospital (Paid for by Bruce Wayne of course) and J’onn sets out to be the twin’s babysitter until their father fully recovers.

He gives the Gotham City police his statement, but he does not need his powers to know that the cops are likely not to press charges. And if they did, they would have the JL to answer to.