#I still cried at some point but nothing is too horrible when there is someone fighting with you over snacks

[braceletofteeth]

Glad my brother agreed to watch The Glory with me because for a moment there I think I forgot that to see the protagonist getting her revenge I'd have to watch what she went through first 😀

[s-awturn]

Other Plans || F1 Grid

cw: babies being cute, still a little anguish, overcoming, deliverance (hehehehe) and I don't know what else to say. Spanish, French, and some poorly translated Dutch, blame Google.

starring: LH44, CS55, CL16, LN4, OP81, MV1,

a/n: I rarely get requests for part 2, so don't judge me if I'm excited here. I loved writing the first part and I hope to make the second part just as good.

f i r s t p a r t

LEWIS HAMILTON.

You never regretted leaving.

As you might have guessed, Lewis never called or cared and even though you knew he wouldn't call, it didn't hurt any less. You had hopes that he would care, that he would come around, but he never took a step towards you and you wouldn't make the first move. You and the baby — a healthy, restless girl —didn’t need him.

The first few months were not easy, by God, dealing with all the changes of pregnancy, the demands of work, as well as cleaning and organizing your home was the hardest thing in the world.

But it was all worth it when you held your little girl in your arms for the first time. Bree was beautiful and had powerful lungs, because she cried so loudly when you laughed with happiness at having her. Not even the fact that she had the same eyes as Lewis shook his happiness. She was yours, and nothing in the world would change that.

You, your mother and Bree were walking down one of the streets of London looking for Christmas decorations, Bree was on your lap, looking at everything curiously, you hadn't taken her to London yet, both because you wanted her to get used to the climate and the quiet life in Naples and because of fear, you still didn't feel ready to face Lewis, because you knew he was always in England, mainly in the capital.

“Mamma, look!” she pointed to the store across the street, with the Christmas decorations you were looking for. You gave a proud smile and kissed her cheek.

“Good job, little bee, let’s go get our colorful balls from Santa Claus” you crossed the street and due to carelessness, you ended up tripping over someone. “Oops, sorry, I didn’t y-...” you started to say, however your voice trailed off as you recognized fucking Lewis Hamilton.

“Y/N?” His eyes, identical to Bree’s, widened as he recognized you and the baby in your arms. You straightened up, hugging Bree against you.

“Lewis, how are you?” you said cordially, but there was no sympathy in your voice.

“Mhmm, Well, I'm fine... And you?”

“Wonderfully,” you remained impassive. “Well, Merry Christmas, Lewis,” you said, walking past him until your name was called by the pilot.

“I thought you would give me news...” he hesitated for a few seconds “news about her” Lewis’ eyes fell on Bree, who was looking at him with the same curiosity.

“And why should I, Lewis? You said you didn’t want to have a baby, that it would hinder your career.” You hit a nerve with Lewis, because since your departure, he couldn't help but wonder if he had done the right thing. “I had no obligation and have no obligation to give you news about my daughter.”

He came closer and you kept Bree away from him, you accepted and healed from the pain Lewis caused you, but you wouldn't allow him to do the same to your sweet little girl. Bree didn't deserve to be hurt by Lewis's selfishness.

“She’s mine too, Y/N, you can’t stop me from seeing her” he said and you finally lost your patience, so you asked your mother to take Bree to the store, you would meet them in a few minutes.

“Don’t use that horrible argument with me, Lewis Hamilton!” you pointed your finger in his face. “You made it clear that you didn’t want her! You never called to find out about her, not for me or my mother, so don’t come with ‘she’s mine too’ because I won’t fall for that! You didn't even think twice before saying you didn't want her! And now you want to demand your rights? What the fuck rights do you think you have?”

He took a step back, Lewis didn't expect you to have such an intense outburst of anger.

“Y/N, I-I wanted to turn things around, go after you,” he bit his lip, thinking about how to continue, “but I was embarrassed... But now I'm willing-...”

“But I’m not willing, Bree doesn’t need you, I don’t.” you said emphatically “My daughter doesn’t need you, your regret or anything that comes from you!”

He tried to articulate some sentence, but no sound came out of his mouth.

“Oh, that is if you have any shame, of course. But don’t worry, when Bree grows up, I’ll tell her about you and she’ll decide whether she wants you in her life or not.” You assured “Until then, continue being the ghost you have been for these two years”

And without giving him a chance to respond, you follow your mother and Bree into the store, trying to ignore the panic that was ravaging your entire body, you felt like you were about to faint. But hearing Bree's spontaneous, sweet laugh was like feeling a cool breeze on a hot day; you didn't know how, but you were sure that Lewis would stay away.

And you didn't lie, Bree didn't need him, and neither did you. Your job was more than enough to maintain and take care of all of Bree's needs, you didn't lie when you said he wasn't needed, in nothing.

Finally you could sleep peacefully knowing that Lewis was what he wanted to be in your lives, a shadow.

On the sidewalk, Lewis saw you enter the store and through the window, he could see you and Bree together, it was clear how much the little girl was loved and well cared for. Lewis tried to imagine what the two years he had lost of his life, of the life of the daughter whose name he didn't even know, had been like. He thought of all the little moments he had missed.

There were few things Lewis truly regretted in his life, and letting you go and not being able to see Bree grow up was, without a doubt, the biggest regret he carried.

CARLOS SAINZ.

Sometimes you wondered how you had the courage to consider the idea of giving your twins up for adoption. You weren't lying when you said that the twins were the best part of your life. At five years old, the identical twins made your days in the French capital — the city you moved to after breaking up with Carlos — much happier and more joyful.

You didn't even care if the two of them were little carbon copies of the Carlos; Santiago, the older twin, seemed to have inherited much of Carlos' personality, he was a little reserved and even shy and loved board games, preferred books to any electronic game and loved football, while Martín had a lot of you in him, expansive and restless, your youngest son loves logic games like Rubik's cube and puzzles and was completely addicted to any kind of racing.

And they were little fanatical Atlético de Madrid fans, which you found sweet irony.

And it was this love for the Spanish club that convinced you to take them to Spain, so that the two could watch the Madrid Derby at the Cívitas Metropolitano, Atlético's official stadium in the city of Madrid. Thanks to your work as a digital influencer, you could give your twins the experience of watching the game directly from the stadium's box.

“C'est le meilleur cadeau d'anniversaire au monde! Merci maman!” (This is the best birthday present in the world! Thanks mommy!) Martín said, hugging you before running to the fence and seeing the field, where the players were warming up.

“Tu es la meilleure au monde, maman” (You are the best in the world, mommy) Santiago said before joining his brother at the railing. You sat down next to Andie.

“I didn’t think you were serious when you said you were going to bring them to Madrid just to watch the game,” her best friend said, also keeping her eyes on the twins.

“It’s their birthday and I had to come to Madrid anyway for work, so I thought I could combine business with pleasure... And I don’t plan on stopping my boys from having good experiences because of Carlos.”

In five years, you never received a text or call from Carlos to see how the twins were doing, or to see how you were handling things. Since their birth, it had been you, the twins, and Andie —she moved to Paris as well. You weren't lying, the first few months were horrible, you truly believed that you wouldn't be a good mother or be able to take care of two babies at the same time.

But Andie was an angel to you and your boys, helping you through the best and worst times. So much so that before long, Carlos was just an old and unwanted memory in your life.

When the game went into halftime, you and Andie took the boys to the snack bar in the box to get something to eat. You hadn't noticed that you were being watched since you entered the diner, Carlos had seen you, Andie and the boys entering. The pilot didn't expect to find you there, especially with two boys who looked like they were five years old.

Without thinking twice, he approached, keeping his eyes on the boys who wore Atlético shirts and their names on the back.

Santiago and Martín.

“Y/N?” he said fearfully, catching her attention. Carlos saw surprise flash in her eyes, but as quickly as it appeared, it was replaced by icy indifference. "How long"

“That’s right, it’s been a long time.” You placed your hands on the boys’ shoulders, aware that they were both shocked.

“C'est Carlos Sainz” Martín spoke softly to Santiago with wide eyes, not that Carlos was his favorite pilot, but the boy didn't expect you to know the pilot.

“These are Martín and Santiago, my sons.” You said, introducing the boys, watching the astonishment appear on Sainz’s face.

“What’s up guys? Enjoying the game?” he said, after a few seconds of shock. You knew what was going on in his head, Carlos was doing the math.

“We don’t talk to Real Madrid fans,” Santiago said with indifference and pulled Martín away from Carlos. You were so surprised that you laughed out loud, watching Carlos’ discomfort grow even more.

“I’m going after the brats and… And I think you guys need to talk,” Andie said, following the twins back to the to their seats.

You turned completely to Carlos, for a long time you missed him, especially when you wanted him to see the boys' first steps or when they spoke for the first time. You wanted him to see how special and good your children were, but he never cared.

It took a while, but eventually it stopped hurting.

Since then, all you felt was pity, because Martín and Santiago were absurdly adorable, loving and incredible children, anyone who could have them in their lives was lucky as hell.

“I didn't think I would go through with the pregnancy" he said and you sighed.

“And I wasn’t going to, but everything changed when I held them in my arms for the first time... I knew I could never leave them” you said and a smile appeared on your face.

“My parents would love to meet you... I would like to-” He starts to say but you interrupt him, already tired of that conversation.

“You wouldn’t like anything, Carlos, you have nothing to offer my boys but abandonment and cowardice,” you replied harshly.

He swallowed hard, Carlos looked embarrassed and regretful, but you didn't care, just like he didn't care about leaving you alone in that hospital.

“Y/N please understand, I wasn’t ready and-”

“I wasn’t either, Carlos,” you interrupted him, having no patience for his excuses. “I was simply thrown alone, in the middle of the hurricane, so if that’s your excuse, improve it.”

Your gaze towards him was hard, there really was nothing that could justify abandoning him.

“If it weren’t for Andie, I don’t even know where I would be right now! Maybe they’d both be in an orphanage or something, living on the streets.” Your voice was forceful, punishing, and accurate. “I almost, almost acted like a coward with them too, but I remembered that they had already lost their father, they couldn't be without their mother too.”

Carlos hunched over slightly, like you had just hit him in the face and damn, he wished you had.

“I will tell them about you, everything they want to know and if they want to look for you, I will not stop them, but until then, do not think that your presence near them will be welcome”

And you went back to where Andie and the boys were, you were surprised to notice that Martín hadn't taken his eyes off you for a moment. Your protective little boy...

You swallowed a painful sigh and stopped the tears from welling up in your eyes.

“Est-ce qu'il t'a fait du mal, maman?” (Did he hurt you, mommy?) He asked as soon as you sat down, you gave a calm smile and denied.

“It’s okay, honey, don’t worry.” you assured, sliding your fingers through his hair, Martín kept his eyes on you. “Are you enjoying the game?”

“Damn!” he said excitedly and you narrowed your eyes.

“What language is that, young man?” you asked, and he smiled as if he had been caught red-handed.

“It was an accident, mommy... Don't be mad, please,” he asked, making the same lost puppy face that Carlos had. My God, you thought it was impossible for them to look so much alike, but the twins were in fact carbon copies of Carlos.

“Go watch the game, I’m watching you” he nodded and ran to Santiago’s side, you sighed and saw Andie sit next to you. “I thought it would be worse”

“Me too... But you did well, to be honest, I thought you were going to throw the chair at him” Andie confessed and you laughed.

“Almost... I'll tell them the truth when we get back to Paris... And I'll let them decide whether they want to approach him or not.” you said, trying to keep your nervousness from setting in ahead of schedule. You would deal with the consequences when they came, that moment was just about the boys, would not spoil it with anxious thoughts and nervousness.

On the other side of the box, Carlos couldn't pay attention to the game, his mind was divided between the game and you and the twins. Carlos thought about how selfish he had been, he thought about how he would like to go back in time and change everything, to be able to live every little moment with you and the boys.

Carlos would like to be less stupid, but there was no way anymore.

CHARLES LECLERC.

After almost seven years, you were back in France, your parents were asking — or demanding, depending on your point of view — that you and Vivienne spend Mother's Day in the south of France. It was the first time since Vivienne was born that you had returned to Europe and although you loved the feeling of being home again, you couldn't help but be apprehensive, after all you didn't know if you were prepared for the possibility of meeting Charles. But you didn't let those thoughts ruin Vivienne's experience, the girl looked like she was going to explode at any moment with so much happiness.

The two of you took the train from Paris to Bordeaux, and Vivienne couldn't tear herself away from the window, enchanted by the romantic landscape of the French countryside, she commented on every little thing, unable to contain the excitement that made her shine.

“Let’s go to the dining car, amour, You need to eat.” You called her, trying to attract the girl’s attention, who seemed much more interested in the castle that disappeared through the train window.

“Will there be croissants, maman?” Vivienne finally turned away from the window.

“Of course, amour. Let’s go before they eat it all, shall we?” you led her out into the hallway, Vivienne chattered on and on, listing the things she had liked the most so far, that's why she still made a point of greeting the other passengers.

“It’s more beautiful here than Montreal, Mom...”

“Would you like to live here?”

She stopped in the hallway for a few seconds before turning to you, the indecision was clear on her little face “I don’t think so, I would miss home... And my friends, but we can come on vacation?”

“We can come to France whenever possible, amour.” you assured her.

The dining car was half full, but that wasn't what caught his attention, but rather coming across such familiar crystal-clear eyes. You knew the chances of meeting Charles in France were 50-50, but you didn't expect it to happen so quickly; suddenly you remembered why you spent so long away from your homeland. You saw Charles' smile disappear and his gaze fall on the girl in front of him, who, although she didn't look exactly like him, carried many of Leclerc's features in her own features.

“Let's sit at the table by the window, okay maman?” Vivienne asked, skipping over to the empty table, she didn’t even look to the side as she passed Charles.

"Of course, papillon, (butterfly) we can sit wherever you want.” You said, thankful that your voice came out steady, without showing the mess that was inside you.

You made Vivienne sit with her back to Charles, listening to the girl talk excitedly about the fields full of vineyards and the lavender plantations. Vivienne knew from the age of five because it was just you and her, you didn't want to wait too long to tell her the truth behind why just you were the one who went to the Father's Day presentations at her school. You remembered the pain tearing through your chest as you comforted your little girl who went to sleep crying for weeks on end, or all the times she asked why her father didn't like her. You wouldn't let anything bring that pain to Vivienne again, even if you had to throw Charles Leclerc out the train window.

“You’re not the waiter.” Vivienne’s inquisitive voice snapped you out of your reverie and you looked up to find Charles standing next to your table. Panic spread through you like wildfire. Vivienne knew that the man standing next to the table was her father, you didn't do much to hide it. “If you’re not the waiter, why did you come?”

“You have your mother’s sharp tongue,” he said, and you noticed the shadow of a smile on his face. “I’m Charles—”

“Leclerc, I know, I watch TV” she said, crossing her fingers on the table, you blinked a little dazed and took control of the situation, Vivienne didn't need to face a situation like that, not with you around to protect her, as you had been doing since her birth.

“What do you want, Charles?” you questioned seriously, the seven years away from him made you create a strong shield against the pilot's charm. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at you, there was no anger or contempt in his gaze, it had taken you the same seven years to understand that it had all been a huge failure in communication, however, that did not allow this to cause any more harm to Vivienne.

“I...” he stuttered, his gaze going from you to Vivienne without stopping “I came to greet you and...” he left the sentence hanging in the air, waiting for you or your daughter to reveal her name.

“You don’t need to know my name,” Vivienne said and your eyes widened.

You saw Charles' mouth open in pure astonishment, if you weren't expecting an answer like that, imagine him.

“What do you want, Charles? I don’t remember inviting you to join us,” you teased, enjoying his discomfort. You could forgive what had happened years ago, after all it wasn't anyone's fault he didn't want kids, but you fucking couldn't forget how it destroyed Vivienne for weeks. “Your girlfriend is waiting for you, and you are disturbing us.”

“Y/N I wanted to say that I'm sorry that all of this happened and...” his voice becomes a weak and distant thread, you just shake your head and raise your hand.

“There is nothing to be forgiven, Charles. That's in the past, there's no reason to bring it up again," you said sincerely, letting out a tired sigh. You wanted it to end soon, you wanted to get to Bordeaux soon. “Forget about it, leave everything in the past and go back to your girlfriend, we've been fine the last seven years without you, the next seven will be even easier, don't waste time worrying about us, we don't need you.”

He hadn't meant to be cruel or rude, but he wouldn't allow a sliver of it to reach Vivienne. Charles just nodded and walked away, you looked at Vivienne, who had tears in her eyes.

“Ma princesse,” you grabbed her hand, watching the little girl swallow her tears and give a weak smile.

“It’s okay, mom, I have you, it’s okay,” she said and went back to looking at the landscape through the window. You noticed that Charles had left. “I don’t need a father who didn’t want me”

You left the chair you were in and went to hug Vivienne, letting the girl feel how much she was loved, how much she didn't need Charles “I'm so proud of you, darling, so proud”

Outside, Charles was hyperventilating, he hadn't expected it to end like this, nor had he expected it to feel like a punch to his stomach. Suddenly, he questioned whether the choices he had made over the past seven years were good. But it didn't matter anymore, he had lost you and any chance of having... Having a family he never wanted.

It was already too late.

LANDO NORRIS.

Jordan looked at the cupcake with bright eyes, you wanted to cry when you saw the smile on your little boy's face. It was late afternoon and you wanted Jordan to be able to celebrate his first birthday on the beach, creating sand castles and playing with water.

“Happy birthday, my baby, I wish you to be blessed with happiness and love throughout your life.” you whispered, helping him blow out the candle. Jordan chuckled, grabbing the icing, smearing the blue sweetness all over his face. You let Jordan play in the sand and thought about everything that led them to that little beach in Spain.

After breaking up with Lando and receiving a court order that he didn't want to be related to you or the baby, you didn't know what to do with your life, I had a college degree, good internship experiences, but no one would hire a pregnant woman. With limited options and no support network, you've relied on the most unstable form of work: the internet. Your life wasn't the most glamorous or adventurous in the world, but people enjoyed watching you. You didn't care about fame or being known in places, you just wanted to make sure you could take care of the baby, make sure he always had a roof over his head and food on the table. No matter what shit you would do to make sure Jordan lacked for nothing.

Anything but crawling after Lando, begging for help or whatever the hell he could give.

You let Jordan play until he got tired, and only when the boy was almost asleep in the sand, you picked him up and decided to go back to the hotel. You balanced Jordan on your lap as you searched for your room key when you heard your name being called. You didn't expect to find Lando Norris in the lobby of the hotel you were staying at.

Not even by a miracle.

“What do you want here, Norris?” you asked, but you didn’t give him time to answer, you just continued on your way to the elevator. You heard him follow you and kept Jordan out of his sight.

“I want to talk to you,” he said tentatively. You stood in the opposite corner of the elevator, as far away from Lando as possible. “Is it his birthday?”

“And why does that matter to you, Norris? You’re nothing to him,” you said dryly, giving him a hard look.

He didn't even know what to answer, you couldn't understand what he was doing there, not after a year and seven months, not after that damn letter. What did he want there? Guarantee you wouldn't ask him for money? Ridiculous.

“If you want to know if I need your money, don’t worry, we don’t need anything from you”

Lando exhaled, you wouldn't give him a step, leaving him frustrated.

“I didn’t come for this... I know you’re... You’re dealing with everything well, I wanted...”

“What do you want, Norris? To see if I'm trying to scam someone to support my son? Being a gold digger?”

“Y/N I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, been...”

“What do you regret? Saying that I got pregnant so you could support me? That I wanted to pull the pregnancy scam on you? Or have you come to give me another court notice to deny your parentage with Jordan? If that's the case, don't worry, if it's up to me, your name will never be on Jordan's birth certificate.”

If shame had a portrait, it would be Lando's face.

“Please understand my side...”

“Your side, Norris? I was pregnant and you sent me away!!” you growled, trying not to wake Jordan in your arms. “I didn’t want money, I wanted support! I wanted you!”

You scoffed at the tears in his eyes, none of them made up for the times you cried alone, scared of the uncertain future you could have. If he thought you would be moved by his crying, he couldn't be more wrong. The elevator doors opened and you walked out, not caring about him following you.

“I’m sorry, I was scared!”

“I was too!” you lost your patience and heard Jordan’s whimpers. “Were you scared? Don’t be a hypocrite, Lando.”

“Let me... Let me apologize, let me take care of you two.”

“You can swallow your apologies, they’re worth nothing to me or Jordan, and as for your care…” you laughed “I won’t tell you what to do with it out of respect for my son.”

And with that, you slammed the door in his face. Hoping that Lando would go back to the same place he had come from.

MAX VERSTAPPEN.

Just as nothing hurt you more than Max's distrust, Annelise's birth healed you in immeasurable ways. The little girl became the little Sun in your world, illuminating corners you thought you would no longer visit after the breakup with Max.

When you left his house in Monaco, you spent a few days on standby, thinking about what to do, you had no one else to support you. You didn't know how, but before you knew it, you were standing on Sophie's doorstep in Belgium, you didn't expect to have the support of your ex-mother-in-law, but Sophie welcomed you with open arms, outraged by Max's attitude.

Sophie welcomed you as if you were her own daughter, helped you choose an apartment in Brussels — even though she wanted you to stay with her for as long as it took, she helped you in the first few months after Annelise was born.

Now, two years later, Annelise was spending so much time at her grandmother's house that Sophie had set up a room for her.

“Sophie, for God’s sake, don’t spoil Anne like that,” you scolded her, seeing the woman click her tongue and shrug, you knew your sermons would do no good, Sophie would continue buying gifts for Annelise.

“Nah, it’s nothing big and you know I’m not stopping any time soon,” she admitted, bouncing the little girl on her lap, Annelise was very entertained by the new teddy bear Sophie had brought. “How was the job interview? Did you get the job?”

You had applied for a job at the health center near your home, the hours were great, the pay was worth it, you just needed to find someone to look after Sophie.

“I was selected, but I need to find a good nanny to take care of Anne...”

“Y/N don’t be silly, you know I will take care of Anne with the greatest pleasure, I love taking care of her.”

“Sophie, I don’t want to give you any trouble...” you started to try to argue.

“Mom! I’m home... Y/N?” you saw Max standing in the middle of the room, staring at you in surprise, then looking at Annelise on Sophie’s lap.

“Max, you didn’t tell me you were coming, come in, I made your favorite cake, go get it from the kitchen, dear” Sophie said, she knew you weren’t ready to talk to Max yet, but the Dutchman had different plans.

You held your arms out to Annelise, who didn't think twice before jumping into your lap, you did your best to avoid Max's gaze.

“We’re going, Sophie... I’ll let you know when we get home,” you said in a whisper and crossed the room towards the exit, but Max grabbed your bicep, stopping you from leaving.

“We need to talk, Y/N... Just five minutes, please,” he said quietly, as soothingly as he could.

“We have nothing to talk about, Max.”

“Please, just five minutes,” he begged, giving Annelise a quick glance in his lap.

“Five minutes, no more.” You said, releasing your arm from his grip. “Sophie, can you take Anne please?”

“Of course, it’s no sacrifice for me, is it, mon bebé?”

Finally you and Max were alone, you were uncomfortable to the point that your skin felt itchy.

“I didn’t expect to see you here… I thought you would stay in Monaco”

“I had nothing to keep me in Monaco, I saw no reason to stay there, and Sophie welcomed me as if I were her daughter,” you said, putting your hands in your coat pockets. “Get to the point, Max, I have to go...”

He licked his lips nervously. “I wanted to talk about our daughter.”

“No, no, calm down, you don’t have a daughter, at least not with me, Annelise is my daughter and mine alone, your participation in her conception was purely accidental.” You said it without any emotion.

“I know I said stupid things that night, Y/N, but I want to make up for every single one of them, with you and with the girl” he said and you scoffed.

“Oh really? And what makes you think you have any right to her?”

“Y/N I’m her father” he said patiently, as he always was with you, until that night at least.

“Unless you request a DNA test, there is nothing to prove your paternity over Annelise,” you determined, taking a step towards him, “and don’t think I’m an idiot, Max, you always knew I was in Brussels with your mother, Sophie told you that the same day I arrived, because I highly doubt she didn't give you the biggest lecture of your life that night.”

He looked away, proving his point “and yet you never cared, you didn’t come to her birthday, or call when she had pneumonia, you didn’t even know her name until today, So please don't lie to me saying that you regret it or that you want to be a part of her life.”

You pressed your fingers to your temples, already feeling the pains of the inevitable migraine.

“Annelise will eventually find out about you, but until then, don't go near her, I won't allow you to be cruel to my daughter the way you were to me.” That was your final sentence before you went to get Annelise with Sophie. You didn't want to have to share oxygen with him any more than necessary. Max belonged to a past you didn't want to revisit.

He stood still in place, watching you leave with the girl, without giving you another look.

“There are stupid people, and then there’s you, Max,” Sophie said, approaching her son. “I find it absurd how you inherited Jos’s worst traits...”

He couldn't help but agree, Max was fucking dumb.

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[peachyloveswriting]

I just loved your writing! So get ready for the highs to come! how Vash, Knives and Wolfwood would react to a reader who is immortal, like Kenny from south park, the reader keeps dying in tragic and horrible ways or even weirdly funny ways in front of them, but for some strange reason, the next day you're alive,as if nothing had happened the day before.

sIf you want to approach it in a somewhat comical way, because in the south park cartoon kenny is cursed by immortality, because his parents went to a satanic ritual because there was free beer. If you want to tackle that part of the story, that's fine with me.

Actually, this is kind of funny. Kenny is my favorite South Park character at this point I know him inside out. Lol. This ought to be interesting. Thanks for the request. I'm actually really excited to write for knives finally! Let me know what you think.

YOU'RE IMMORTAL!? --- Vash, Knives, & Wolfwood

SUMMARY: For years you've wondered where your immortality comes from, your parents never told you so you kept it to yourself. Until the day came that someone remembered.

WARNINGS: Major angst, death, death description, death mentions, trauma. Please continue at your own discretion. I warned you.

NOTES: Vash's part is before he runs into Meryl and Roberto because I'm too lazy to write the other characters reactions as well. Wolfwood's part is short because I spent all my energy on Vash and Knives. I think Knives is my favorite part, I'm cherishing it.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

Vash

"Sleepy head. C'mon wake up." You shake Vash's shoulder to wake him up. He groans before his eyes crack open. At first seeing you he mumbles a greeting before turning over to ignore you. It was right when he was going to turn away that the realization hit him like a freight train. His eyes suddenly open wide, pain swims inside of them as he looks up at you.

There was no way this was possible. Just the night before you had died right in front of him. Your head was blown into bits by some piece of shit bounty hunter. You had nothing to do with this. There was no reason for it to happen and it was all because you got involved with him. He was just starting to accept what happened and now here you are shaking him awake.

"I must be crazy." He mumbles to himself. Tears pool in his eyes and he sits up, bringing his hands to cover his face. "It's not real."

"Vash?" His babbling is confusing. He wouldn't know about you dying would he. No one else seemed to realize, so why would he? His sobs make this almost clear as day. Lifting a hand you rest it on his shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. "What's wrong?" He continues sobbing into his hands and saying things you can't understand. It breaks your heart to see him like this, he's never cried in front of you before he's always been so happy and lucky. What happened?

Sliding your hand across his back and pulling him close, you hug him tightly. With your other hand pressed to the back of his head you tuck it safely under your chin where his teas soak your skin. Quietly you hush him, rubbing soft patterns along his back and whispering soft reassurances until he's reduced to nothing but harsh breathing.

Suddenly he speaks. "You're not real." He claims. Lifting his head to pull away from the hug he securely grabs your biceps. "You've got to be a ghost."

Now it's clear, exactly what's going on. Lifting your hands to cup his face you hush him once more. "It's me Vash. It's really me. I'm still here."

He shakes his head and his bottom lip trembles. "But I watched you die. I even buried you!" He cries.

Frowning, you pull him back into a secure hug. That night is as clear as ever in your head. You were laying flat on your back struggling against a man that pressed his gun to your head. You weren't strong enough to push him away and he pulled the trigger before Vash could stop him. You still remember hearing Vash calling out to you right before you died. He shouldn't have remembered in the slightest. That should have been the only time you'd ever have to see him in a bad mental state over your death. Yet he sat in your arms mentally destroyed by the sight of you.

How would you explain everything to him? Even worse, how could you put him through something like that and expect him to not be upset at you? This is the first time you've ever had to consider these things, it's never happened before. How were you supposed to deal with this?

Vash lifts his head once more to look you in the eyes. "You're not playing tricks on me right?" He asks in a broken voice. The tip of his node is red now and his eyes are puffy too. He even trembles in your touch. Why did it have to be him?

"Vash, I need to tell you something." His eyes don't show any hint of what might come next and that scares you. Anything could happen, the possibilities are endless and not all of them are good. You take a deep breath to quell your frayed nerves. It doesn't work but you try to carry on the calmest you can.

"What I'm about to tell you might make you mad or even make you think I'm crazy but I swear to you what you saw that night and what you're seeing right now is absolutely true. I did die." My hands can no longer hold onto him any more, they shake so hard I can't occupy them at all. Vash suddenly intertwines our fingers together to calm my shaking. I offer a brief smile before continuing.

"I can't die. I'm immortal." Those words are the hardest to say. Now that it's done it feels so easy but I know I might not be able to deal with causing this kind of trauma again.

Vash's hands loosen from mine. "Oh thank goodness!" I'm tackled into a hug. He has me pinned to the ground from his enormous weight and his head is tucked away against my neck. "I thought I really lost you." He lifts his head to look down at me. "You have no idea how happy I am." Tears still flow freely down his face as he gives me that stupid smile of his. It still makes my stomach do flips just looking at it.

"I could kiss you right now!" He doesn't move to do anything even though he's already announced it. He stares at me quietly in anticipation for my response. With wide eyes and a red hot face I nod. He's eager to kiss me right away as his hands find my face in no time at all. Surprisingly he's a lot more gentle than I expected. His lips are so warm and soft against mine. Quick to start but in no time to stop, Vash deepens the kiss for just a brief moment before he pulls away.

"Oh my god I have so much to tell you. I love you so much. I was so worried when it happened, gosh I wish all humans were immortal."

You chuckle at his excitement. "You can tell me all about it whenever you want. I've got all the time in the world."

"Hey. I do too." Vash beams down at you. Your eyes widen and your stomach does somersaults. "Wait, what!?"

Allowing you to sit up, Vash nervously scratches the back of his neck. "I guess I have something to tell you too."

Millions Knives

You woke up in your bed slightly out of it. The events from the day before are ever present in your mind. The little girl the doctor had been escorting everywhere had killed you. It was accidental on the Doctor's behalf but that girl had every intention of filling you with nails. Waking up the next day completely okay isn't out of the ordinary, it's happened before. It's still shocking to die and wake up completely okay it never seems to entirely become a nonchalant process.

You left your room and passed by the very doctor who watched you die. Just like every other morning he gives you a wave as you pass by which you return happily. He doesn't remember which is a good thing. No one has ever remembered you dying before, at least it's yet to come into fruition. You're glad that day hasn't come yet, you're still unsure of what to do when it does.

"Oh, Doc?" You turn to face him. He does the same. "Where's Naï?"

The doctor frowns. "He's been in his room since yesterday." That's strange, Knives doesn't need sleep, so why would he be in his room?

"Thanks." You offer a parting wave as you turn to walk off towards knives room. Knives or Naï, as he lets you call him, lets you stay here in the tower with him. He often enjoys your company throughout the night, everyone finds it bizarre that you won him over. It's obvious that mostly everyone except for the Doc and Naï hates you. Each one of them respects you in the presence of Knives but away from him, they make it known.

The reason why Naï favors you is unknown. He never speaks about it and he always acts like he wants to keep you at arms distance, but it's so much more than that. He's played songs for you on his piano and claims he made them for you himself. He makes sure your needs are met, he gives you food, a bed to sleep in, and keeps you happy. Naï protects you. There have been times where you've needed saving from someone within the building, mostly the ones who hate you. You call his name and he's by your side immediately, it's amazing. Sometimes you wake up to Naï sitting at the end of your bed watching the door, other times you find him tracing parts of your skin with his metal attachments.

You're not scared of him but everyone else is. Even as you step up to his door and lift your hand to knock, you're not scared. Just after your first knock, a scream comes from inside. Wooden shards break apart from the door as his metal tendrils snap through. You scream and drop to the floor with your arms covering your head.

Knives has always seen himself as a being who's incapable of truly caring for another, especially humans. Humans are the very thing he has worked his whole life to get rid of and yet at this moment in time he finds himself scared. The scream that had come from the other side of the door sounded like you, but how? You had died hours before, surely it was someone else.

"Go away!" He warns. His tendrils recede from the door and back inside of him where they seeth with unrest.

Seeing his blades recede you slowly rise to full height, your legs shaking underneath you. "Naï, it's me" Your hand shakes profusely as you rest it along the threshold to keep your balance.

Inside the room, Knives can feel his anger boil. "You dare impersonate them. I'll kill you!" In anger he stands from his bed and extends his tendrils once again. They break through the door, pulling back to rip it away inside the room. He steps forward, releasing his blades from the holes within the broken door to slice his visitor into pieces. For the first time, he feels time slow to a stop. His heart is pounding in his ears and his chest burns hot.

It's not possible. Humans don't have the ability to sustain injuries like the ones he saw from you and walk away unharmed. Humans definitely can't come back to life. He knows it, so why are you cowering in his doorway shaking with fear? Why can he hear you telling him to stop? Why is he scared?

Your arms cover your view again, you know it's a futile effort. He could kill you any time he pleased yet you tried to block it anyway. Surely you were already dead, you'd wake up again in your bed and return back to normal. Instead, rapid footsteps race towards you. Fear consumes you. This nightmare was really still going.

Naï screams your name as he tackles you. His strong arms scooping you into his grasp and sweep you from the floor. Gasping in surprise you open your eyes to find him looking at you in fear. Falling to his knees he releases you onto your knees.

"You died how are you still alive?" His breathing is hard and rapid as his hands raise to cup your face. He's so soft when he touches your skin like he's afraid he might break you if he presses too hard. "I didn't hurt you just now did I?" Panic fills him when you don't respond, his chest begins to ache and his eyes begin to sting.

"Please, speak. I'm so scared right now." This is the first time you've ever heard him beg. He's never sounded so scared before or alone.

"Naï." You wrap your arms around him pulling him into a hug. He can feel you shaking hard against him as small whimpers fall from your lips. He's never known a feeling stronger than the one he feels now. The way his heart tugs at the sound of your cries when he securely wraps his arms around you in fear of this all being fake.

Feeling his arms wrap around you, releases the tension in your body. Suddenly the fear you held onto at the beginning melts away and his smell calms your nerves. His breathing stutters against your neck before he lifts his head to cup your face again. Tears now soak his face and shine with the lights in the room. His hands tremble against you as they hold you.

"I'm so sorry, I scared you." Closing his eyes in disdain, he shakes his head and presses his forehead to yours. "I didn't think it was you- I thought you died."

Your heart aches as you grab his shaking wrist. "Don't worry about that Naï. I'm here. It's ok."

Opening his wet eyes he pulls his head away and grabs your hands. "How are you here? I saw the video. She killed you, I saw your body myself. I swear you... I was so scared. First Vash... But you too."

Pulling your hands from his you raise them to wipe the tears from his face. "Breathe Naï, I haven't left you. I can't even die."

His eyes grow wide as his breath hitches in this throat. "I'm immortal, Naï."

For a moment he stares at you, unsure of whether he can believe your words or not. You're living proof, touching him and talking to him right now. Even when he saw you dead that was real too he was sure of it. Was that really the truth? Could you really not die? Even with his doubt, relief filled him from top to bottom. The corners of his mouth began to twitch upwards into a smile, what he could only describe as joy warmed him.

"My flower..." He coos. "You can stay with me forever?"

You nod. "Yes. Naï. I can stay."

Breaking free of your hands, he pulls you into another hug. The only being he's felt this way towards is you and if he had to say what love is he'd tell someone about you. The joy you bring him is immeasurable to everything else in this stupid world. He'd kill an empire of people just for you and you alone. You are the ultimate being, the one that's just perfect for him.

"I don't know if this is right but I love you." He pulls away.

Heat blooms in your cheeks. Did he really say that? The most powerful being, could snap you like a twig and yet he presses a soft delicate kiss to your forehead.

"Oh Naï. I love you too."

Wolfwood

This was the first time during Wolfwood's contract that he let Vash leave his eyesight. Never before had he experienced enough grief to make him walk away from something like this. Maybe you were just the last straw. For sure he would retire after this. He had something with you and just like that it's gone. He would never feel something like that again, it's just not possible.

Sitting alone in the desert he was sure you called his name somewhere in the distance, for some reason he felt hope before it fell and shattered to the ground. You were gone, there's no reason for his mind to be playing tricks on him like this. He couldn't subject himself to this kind of torture and live on. No. But then it came again and it was closer this time. You called out to him from somewhere in the distance. You begged for him to come back, but he knew it was just a hallucination. Knowing that, he still turned around to see your figure wading through the darkness towards him.

Seeing him turn around, you jogged forward with worry. "Nick! You can't just leave like that. Do you know how worried I was. I've been searching for you since this morning. I thought something horrible happened."

He turned around and didn't say anything. If god was real he was surely laughing at him from hell right now. Just as he thought your memory had left your hands slid around his chest and you pressed against his back. He watched you lay your head on his shoulder with a sigh of relief. Was it even possible to go this crazy?

"You're dead. So stop following me." He grumbles.

Hearing those words fall from his mouth leaves you frozen against him. "You remember?" You stammer.

Suddenly he breaks free of your grasp and stands to face you. "Of course I remember you dying. Did you really have to remind me, you damn trick."

This has never happened before, it would have happened eventually for sure but why did it have to be with him?

"No one's ever remembered me dying before." You mutter.

His eyes widen and he backs away from you, anger laced on his face. Turning away he grabs his cross and settles it on his back. "Stop talking crazy!" With his back turned he begins to walk away. Your heart drops as you rush forward to stop him.

"Nick. Wait!" You trip against the sand. Gritting your teeth, you push yourself to your feet. "I can't die. I'm immortal!" Grabbing his shoulder, you force him to face you. "Feel me! I'm alive and well right in front of you! And maybe I should have said something sooner but I didn't think I'd have to. Nick please just believe me." Tears pool in your eyes. "Please."

Nick's gaze doesn't leave the sand at your feet. The crushed cigarette in his lips falls to the wayside and he sets the cross down. You died, yet you stood in front of him. He could hear you, touch you, it had to be you. How would he know otherwise? Even if it wasn't real what could it hurt to indulge himself just a little bit. So, he drops his facade and reaches forward to capture you in his arms.

You're hard, your skin is squishy and warm. You're not soaked with blood. This is real, it's real. It has to be. "I swear if this isn't real..." He trails off.

Wrapping your arms around him and sighing into his chest, you speak. "I swear it's real. Nick... I'm sorry."

Feeling his legs grow weak, Nick falls to his knees and pulls you down with him. Against you he begins to shake and his breath grows ragged. "You scared me baby." He cries.

You raise and hand to the back of his head and stroke his hair. "I'm so sorry."

[cepetriwrites]

Alicent Reverses the Hourglass Chapter 52 Memes Pt 3

Her husband, her castle. A voice from within whispered. Now even her gown.

Alicent dug her fingernails into her hand.

No. They existed in a different world now. The past should stay in the past.

AVPM anyone?

She literally had a magical witch call her out on her relationship with rhaenyra and Alicent is just: No thoughts. Head empty. Get dick.

~~~~~~~

He had shown little interest in matters of local politics, household structure or financial planning: all these things he was more than happy to leave to Alicent’s keeping.

The man who wants to be king everybody……

Daemon was too busy dying and tripping balls in Harrenhal to notice how much work ruling is

~~~~~~~~~

“Are you about to tell me how I may select mine own heir, my lord?” Daemon’s voice held an all-too familiar edge. “Do you imagine I require your opinion?”

Me:

This is what an ally looks like. If I had to choose between daemon and a bear…. I’d probably still choose the bear cause daemon loves killing people but if he did kill me, it wouldn’t be because of sexism, it’s just because he’s an asshole. Take notes men.

~~~~~

Corlys and Rhaenys looked at each other and everyone else brought their eyes back down to their plates.

Me wanting to be apart of that post dinner debrief/gossip

I just want to be the kid in the backseat of their parents car as they discuss the drama from the latest family function

~~~~~

All with the exception of Selman Sunglass who clapped his hands, eager to agree with everything coming from Alicent’s mouth no matter what it happened to be. “Well, I think it is a fine idea! Times are changing after all! Male, female: they will still be the Prince and Lady Alicent’s child.”

I’ll allow it. Raw as well.

~~~~~~

“My mother and he raised Viserys and I together. As one. I always intended to do the same with my own family.”

“I agree.” Corlys said.

Both Laenor and Rhaenys raised their eyebrows in unison. “ You do?” They spoke together.

Laenor when his dad implies he’s a present father

Me & laenor should get shirts for our club

~~~~~

Gwayne & Laenor going through a messy gay breakup at the dinner table

The dinner guests

It’s so sad when friends fight :(

Meanwhile cut to Laenor buried under blankets sobbing as he blasts casual by Chappell roan

Someone should introduce these boys to the concept of an affair…. Lord Corlys is pretty well versed on the subject……

~~~~~~

At that moment, Gwayne couldn’t help but feel horribly out-of-place. He gave another look to the back of Laenor’s head and then left, quickly before the next song began.

So ignoring your loved ones cries for help is just….. a thing you do… huh?

Someone tell Aegon it was nothing personal when she moonwalked away from him as he sobbed over the death of his son, she’s just allergic to the spectrum of human emotion

Aegon🤝Gwayne🤝Rhaenyra = getting ignored by Alicent during their times of need

~~~~~~~

Daemon glanced at her as if surprised. “I thought you would be pleased at the idea of our daughter being our heir.”

Anskdkslwksnd he thought his sexist wife, who did a coup that killed most of the Targaryens and dragons to put a younger son over the oldest daughter, would be happy about him equally valuing a daughter? Sir you are married to the Westerosi version of Phyllis Schlafly.

~~~~~~~~

“I saw him drink goblet upon goblet of wine,” Arthor’s eyes roved over her. “His temper will be soft and…malleable.” He came forward began to twist at the seam of her bodice until her cleavage spilled forth. “There. That’s better.”

Shoutout to reddish for writing such toxic people it makes me happier with my annoying family members. At least they’ve never tried pimping me out

~~~~~~~

He hoped that, at some point, he could cleave one of Alicent’s enemies in two. The look on her face: both gratitude and love. He was impatient for it.

She would see then that only he could be called upon to protect her and cast all memories of the Dornish knight or the Baratheon boy into flame.

His love language is literally murder. At this point I think he needs it to function the way we need food to survive.

Also not his anxious attachment still making him insecure over a Baratheon when Alicent was literally riding him like a stallion with an audience watching.

Good thing she’s not bi, the man would never know peace if he knew everyone was an option.

~~~~~~

“Wife.” His fingers drowsily grazed her arm, still between sleep and waking, the medicine addling him.

Koline chose not to speak. She straddled him instead, making sure that her scented skin was underneath his nose. He breathed in and seemed contented. {…} In the hollowness of the dark chamber, she did her duty.

Hey what… um… that’s um… that’s a….

I cannot believe I am using this video for TWO different people.

~~~~~

Alicent & Koline staring at each other after Alicent walks in on her mid sexual assault

~~~~~

Alicent feeling her brain chemistry change as she catches her husband “cheating” on her

Homegirl about to snap and take everyone with her

Memes Masterpost

[slyvester101]

After everything that happened with Crunchbite (the bastard) and Junior’s probably horrific and painful birth, I imagine Tucker is more than a little wary about letting strangers near him.

He gets this hollow feeling in his gut when he’s around people he doesn’t know, gets an itch in his skin if he’s touched by someone he doesn’t trust. His throat tightens and his heart squeezes and his hands shake. He’s not able to sleep well around strangers, has to keep his back to the wall or else he’s waking every five minutes to make sure no one’s snuck up behind him.

He spends his whole diplomacy curled up in a ball in the corner of his room with Junior tucked under his chin, keeps his distance from the soldiers stuck on his missions and keeps them away with sharp smiles and horrible flirting that would make anyone cringe away.

At the desert temple, when he’s all alone with nothing but hostiles banging on the door, Tucker laments in how much he misses touch, misses the freedom of being able to hug someone without fear of harm, of being able to know if a touch was friendly or manipulative. He misses Blood Gulch. He misses blue team. He misses his son.

Even after Sidewinder, Tucker still isn’t in the clear, isn’t allowed some respite with his team because the latest member is yet another Freelancer who was chasing to kill them not even less than twenty-four hours ago.

His skin is buzzing the whole time they’re being shown around their new base by Caboose, his heart not settling despite the action being long over, his brain screams as someone grabs his shoulder. He screams out loud too, it seems, because the hand is pulling back quickly and a soft apologetic voice is echoing through his head.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t fucking touch me, asshole.” Tucker all but hissed before he stormed away, unwilling to let this new prick see the way his hands shake and the way his face has gone pale.

He hates it. He hates it. He hates how he can’t even stand close to the fucker without feeling ill, can’t help but track his every movement and every word for some kind of malice or cruel intent.

He finds none.

He’s kind to Caboose, politely nodding along to whatever he rants about and keeping him out of trouble with much kinder words that Church was probably physically incapable of speaking. He’s kind to Tucker even though he’s been nothing but a paranoid asshole the whole time they’ve been at Valhalla, never taking offense to the distance Tucker puts between them and respecting whatever lines Tucker draws.

It takes a long time for him to feel comfortable enough to let Washington touch him, not quite as long to start giving him shit like he would’ve with Church. Slowly and cautiously, they fall into a groove that’s uniquely theirs and Tucker feels like he can finally breathe in his own goddamn house.

His trust in Wash is cemented when Carolina comes into the picture and constantly steps in as a barrier between the two, Washington knowing that Carolina would try to scruff or yank Tucker around for his big mouth and that Tucker would probably rip her hand off if she tried. He’s the only reason the two aqua soldiers don’t kill each other. That fact becomes undoubtedly true when Wash choses Tucker over Carolina, pointing his gun at her as she threatens Tucker.

Caboose was always a steady presence to the chaos in his head, the gentle giant sometimes being the only reason Tucker didn’t fall apart at the seams while he cried his fears into his chest, but Wash is a different kind of support that Tucker didn’t know he needed, one he doesn’t think he’s ever had.

It doesn’t stop him from getting that itch in his skin when he’s surrounded by strangers, it doesn’t stop the sick feeling he gets when he wakes up from a nightmare, it doesn’t make everything better.

But Tucker thinks, kind of incredulously, that maybe he can finally be safe with these two by his side. Maybe, just maybe, he can really let his guard down and have someone else watch his back.

Maybe he can finally let someone in.

[kairiscorner]

omg I LOVED your Drunk Miguel hcs! Is there any chance of you writing some for the other Spdier people? Especially Spider Noir?

AAAAA SO GLAD TO HEAR THAT ANON ! and ofc, consider it done <333

when drunk noir :>

drunk noir headcanons

ok, the stages in which noir get drunk are: slightly drunk, giggly, undergoing a midlife crisis, lovesick, and sleepy

the slightly sober stage is the stage when noir should really stop drinking. i headcanon that it doesn't take him long to get drunk, like maybe... 3 to 4 shots, and he's entering the slightly drunk stage. he kinda dissociates when he's in this stage, like miguel in the drunk miggy headcanons, he kinda goes quiet and speaks only when spoken to, but it's a whole lotta gibberish that comes out of his mouth instead of coherent words. he'd look like he's staring into space, when actually he's just focusing on how fuzzy the world looks like right now as the liquor is settling in. past this point, you are now entering the harder than manageable peter parker drunk.

his giggly stage is when he's had a couple more than 3 to 4 shots, and he laughs his ass off at the most out of context shit ever. like he sees a little fly on the table and he just chuckles to himself because the liquor is making him think, "oh shit, what a funny fly, it's not purple." and when he's told a joke he laughs THE FUCK out of it, even minutes after the joke was said, he's still laughing about it to the point of tears. if he remembers the joke, he'll laugh about it randomly and not explain at all because he forgets soon after what he was laughing at, like, "wait, haha, why am i, hah, laughing again?" his smile when he's drunk is so fucking precious though

after the laughing fit, he enters the depressing midlife crisis stage. he rambles and mumbles a lot to himself about how shitty his life has been, how he wishes uncle benjamin wasn't... you know, how he really regrets being distant and aloof towards a lot of people he's loved in his life and how he can never catch a break with all the horribleness in his life. he cries during this stage, but it's a quiet kind of crying. like he sniffles a little but when he cries, by default, he isn't loud. he must've learned how to cry without attracting so much attention, because it's only when you pay attention to the right details, his eyes, his nose turning red, his lips quivering, and the small sounds he makes when sobbing that you realize he was crying this whole time.

but after sobbing for a little while, if he's still drinking, his hormones change from the sad and depressing ones to the "i need to be held and to hold someone right now" hormones in the lovesick stage. if you're really close to peter, he'd kinda get a little handsy and talkative, still stuttering gibberish. he'd just go on and on and on about how purple is a pretty color but every color on you is by far the prettiest colors he has ever and will ever witness. he incessantly asks if he can hold your hand or hug you, he just wants to feel your warmth because the alcohol makes him feel colder. when you agree to hug him, omg, you are never going to be let go by him, i swear. like MAN HAS A TIGHT GRIP, EVEN WHEN DRUNK. but he holds you with the intent of making you feel loved, not pained nor burdened, just a gentle reminder he loves you. he gets a little giggly here too, but that's only because he's so happy he's with you right now and you didn't reject him, 'cause if you did, he'd be back in the midlife crisis stage.

and finally, the last stage of them all, when he gets sleepy. nothing much happens in this stage, save for peter just slowly getting tired and just drifting off to sleep, letting the alcohol in his system take him away to dreamland. but his favorite place to sleep is against your shoulder, nothing's more comforting to him than to feel you close next to him as he sleeps, knowing you're there for him for whatever happens while he's knocked out due to his inebriated self.

a/n: sorry i had to give him angst... it's my instinct <:[

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @connors-cumslurper

[textsfromthetva]

I would have made a post sooner, but I've been too distressed to even talk about this.

Mobius is sick. That's my cat, for the uninitiated. He started throwing up food Thursday night, like, a lot, so we went to the vet on Friday, who concluded he had a fever, but other than that and the nausea, there were no symptoms. So that's an infection, right? No telling where, but he got a shot of anty-nausea meds, a shot of antibiotics, and I got a box of catch-all antibiotics in pill form, and home we went.

Problem is, he kept getting worse. Cats do this thing where, when they feel a bit under the weather, they go 'guess I'll die 🤷‍♂️' and stop eating and drinking, like little drama queens. So you need to keep them from starving themselves to death until medication starts working. Friday night I had to start force feeding him, which in the case of cats means mixing wet food with water, forcing their jaw open, and using a syringe (without a needle, obvs) to squirt food into their mouth, holding their head back to force them to swallow. It's not fun for either party, and for 36 hours I did that every other hour, including throughout the night. But he continued to get worse. He was sluggish and dehydrated. I kept feeding him. No improvement. He was miserable, I was miserable, it was fucking horrible.

Sunday night we went to an emergency vet clinic, because I couldn't handle it any longer, I needed someone to have another look. She concluded that his fever had gone up, despite him being on antibiotics. This is obviously very troubling. She convinced me to pay for some blood work, just the basics, and he's insured, so whatever. I told her the Good Girl died two months ago, from FIP (feline infectious peritonitis). When she came back she looked very grim, and had brought scanning equipment. A ton of stuff was totally fine, but there was one thing, that was alarming. A number that should be over 8 in healthy cats, with 4-8 being troubling, and under 4 being 'that cat probably has FIP' was clocking in at a 3 for Mobius. But his red blood cells were fine and his organ markers were fine, so she did an ultra sound to look for fluids in his abdominal cavity, which is another sign of FIP. There was nothing. She's worried that it's just because we caught it super early.

But, we decided to proceed as if he's got a crazy infection, he got another injection of anti-nausea medication, new antibiotics, some fever-reduction pills, and an appetite stimulant that's a cream you rub on the inside of their ears, so it's absorbed through the skin.

He started perking up a lot. Still wasn't eating though. So this afternoon my mom stopped by with ten different kinds of wet food they had lying around (cat breeder behaviour), and we created a huge buffet on the kitchen floor. All my plates are in play. And eventually he started eating some shredded chicken in jelly. I don't know if you've ever cried from watching a cat eat, but I was fucking sobbing.

At this point, 12 hours later, I've had to refill the plate with that single fucking kind of wet food four times. He's almost halfway through a big can by now!

So I'm choosing to be delulu right now. I'm choosing to believe that those numbers were off because he hadn't eaten. Because he's completely back to normal now, behaviourally, and surely, surely he would not get better like this if he was fatally ill and about to die.

Anyway, if he does die I'm going to break. Just FYI.

[writtenfangirl]

More of secrets and good luck charm. Pls.

Secrets and Good Luck Charms pt. 2

Someone asked for a part 2 so here it is! I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing this.

I've always loved reading people's comments about the things I write and the wonderful support my writing gets is honestly my biggest motivator.

Part 1

“I can’t believe this!” Charles thundered as he paced across his apartment. “How can they say these things about you?!”

“Hmm,” Y/N hummed, only half listening to her boyfriend’s rant.

She’d heard a variation of his rant before, his fury at the terrible things people were saying about her whenever Charles posts a picture of her or they’re spotted out and about by the paparazzi. She’d heard him say these things almost as often as she’d heard the horrible comments people say about her. 

Their barbed words never really bothered Y/N. She was never the kind to let the opinions of strangers get under her skin, especially since she’d heard far worse before. Unfortunately, her boyfriend wasn’t immune to the shortcomings of his so-called fans.

“This is despicable, cherie!” He cried out as Y/N mindlessly scrolled through her phone, “how can you not be bothered by this?”

Y/N looked up from her phone, stopping Charles from his pacing. “Cha, please stop pacing. You’ll make a hole through the floor.”

“Cherie, if you could only read—“

“I’ve read them. They post those comments on my profile too,” Y/N said, waving him away as she went back to her phone. 

“And you weren’t hurt?”

“I’ve read and heard worse.” And she truly had heard worse, sometimes from the people that mattered most to her. As someone who had always been a big girl, it always seemed like everyone in the world thought she wasn’t aware of what she looked like. She’d heard all the fat jokes, heard all the jibes and the little backhanded compliments that people thought would somehow make her lose weight but only served to do the opposite. The things people were saying in her and Charles’s comments section was tame in comparison to what she’d heard growing up. At this point in her life, she doubted these people could say something to her she hadn’t already heard before.

But Charles wasn’t used to the same things she was and though he took his own criticisms to stride, he couldn’t take the negativity directed at the love of his life in stride. His mouth flew open, his face gobsmacked. “Cherie.”

Y/N glanced back up again, her expression impassive. “Charles, I swear. Don’t worry about it. I’ve heard all of these comments before and I’ve heard even worse. The things they’re saying about me is nothing compared to what my family has said about me in the past. Look, I was prepared for this when we started dating. I am not some maiden in need of defending.”

Somehow, Y/N’s words didn’t soothe Charles. If anything, he looked even more horrified. “Y/N! You can’t be serious. What do you mean worse?”

“Oh, you know, worse. I promise, the things they’re saying are nothing compared to what I’ve been through growing up. I don’t mind it. Promise.”

“You can’t think I’d be okay with that, Y/N.”

“There’s nothing to be done about, Charles. It is what it is.”

“Still,” he frowned, “I’m sorry you have to go through this, Y/N. It’s not fair.”

“It really isn’t,” she said with a sigh of resignation.

“Well, I need to say something otherwise I’m no better than them.” He huffed before he took a seat beside Y/N on the couch. 

“You are so much better than them, Cha,” Y/N said as she abandoned her phone and pulled him into her embrace, his head nuzzling against her neck. He could feel her steady pulse, the smell of her heady perfume momentarily washing away his worries. “I’m serious. Don’t worry about it.”

“I should publish a statement,” he muttered against her, “I should say something.”

“You don’t think it might make things worse?”

“Do you?” He pulled away, peering at her from his lashes. “Do you think it will make things worse?”

“It might,” she shrugged. Charles wasn’t entirely sure how or why, but Y/N’s lack of a response, her impassivity and utter disregard for the situation, had his heart breaking. Was she so use to being treated this way that she’s grown immune to the heinous things people were saying about her? 

“Why aren’t you more concerned about this, cherie?” He frowned. 

Y/N smiled, a small reassuring thing that did nothing to quell Charles’ frustrations. “Charles, do you think I’m beautiful?”

“Don’t try to change the subject.”

“Humor me, babe, and answer the question. Do you think I’m beautiful?”

“Inside and out,” he declared without hesitation. 

“Does your family love me?”

“You know they do. Maman thinks you’re the daughter she never had and my brothers adore you.”

“What about your friends? Have they ever said anything bad about me to you?”

“No. They think you’re one of the best things to ever happen to me and that if I ever break your heart, I should get ready for a fight,” he grinned despite himself. 

“Then that’s all that matters to me,” Y/N said softly, her fingers curling around his dark hair before trailing down his neck, softly caressing him as if her touch could somehow dispel the demons plaguing him. “You’re the ones who matter, Charles. Not them. You and your family and your friends. I couldn’t care less about strangers on the internet calling me names.”

“But, Y/N, I can’t take it,” he frowned, relishing the feeling of her touch. His own hands found themselves on her waist, at the small space devoid of any clothing, his thumbs rubbing circles on her soft skin. “I love you and I don’t understand how people who are meant to support me can say such terrible things about you, the woman I love and who I fully intend to spend forever with. You don’t deserve this.”

She wasn’t entirely sure how she could reassure her boyfriend that she really didn’t care about the things people were saying about her. When she agreed to a relationship with Charles, she went in it with both eyes open. She understood what she had to give up to be with the man she loved and she was more than willing to give up her privacy and even her peace of mind if she could be with Charles. 

Truthfully, she hadn’t even thought about all the negativity. All she thought about was the anxiety that came with the territory of loving an athlete who competed in one of the most dangerous sports in the world. She hadn’t thought about what people would think about her. And, when the hate comments came pouring in, she really couldn’t bring herself to care. She didn’t have any space in her left to absorb the negativity, not when there were better things to worry about. 

But Charles had been so guilty. Y/N had only asked him to introduce her to his loved ones but it had been his choice to reveal their relationship to the world. He thought about the horrible things people were saying about her and struggled to take it. He saw Y/N as the beautiful, kind and fantastic person that she really was and he took any hate towards her personally. 

“It is what it is, babe,” Y/N said, trying her best not to sound flippant. 

“I wish I can do something. I’m really sorry, cherie. You don’t deserve this,” he sighed sorrowfully.

“Don’t apologize. You aren’t the one saying these things about me.”

“But I’m the reason why they say them!” Charles exclaimed. “If you were with someone else, they wouldn’t be saying these things. If I hadn’t told them about us then none of this would be happening!”

“Charles, stop,” Y/N said firmly, “don’t do this to yourself. Don’t torture yourself like this. I love you and I will never blame you for the actions of other people, do you understand?”

He took a deep breath. “I just wish there was something I could do. I got you in this mess. I should do what I can to get you out.”

One of the things she loved about her boyfriend was his tenacity and his single minded determination to accomplish something he wanted. He wasn’t going to let this go, not unless Y/N said something. She knew that if she told him she wasn’t comfortable with him releasing a statement, he’d drop it. But it’s not like the situation can get any worse and if Charles can feel better by doing this, then she might as well let him. “If you really want to say something, I won’t stop you. I love you and I support you in everything you do, including this.”

He peered at her from his lashes, his face turning hopeful. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“Do you want to read what I’ll say after or not?”

She paused. Did her opinion really matter to him so much? “I can read it if you want me to.”

“Of course I want you to. Your opinion matters to me very much.”

Despite herself, she smiled. Charles’ compassion and consideration for her had her heart soaring higher than a kite. There was a time when she’d doubted his affection for her, when she thought Charles’s feelings for her to be disingenuous. Now, she wonders how she ever thought the worst of him. Charles, despite how perfect he may appear with his Disney-prince like good looks, amazing sense of humor and superior personality, was just as human as she was. He was as prone to his insecurities and self-doubt as Y/N was but that was likely why she loved him so much.

It’s easy to love someone for their perfections. It’s a lot harder to love someone’s flaws. Luckily for Y/N, she loved all of Charles with her whole tender heart and she rather suspected, with the way Charles was looking at her as if she hung the moon and the stars herself, that he loved all of her with his whole tender heart too.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Hello! If you are still accepting fic requests... I saw your "Legend is a sympathetic crier" post and it grabbed hold of my brain. Could you try a fic of that with Legend/Fable or Legend & Sky? Either one would be fun, I think!

Hi! Thanks so much for the prompt!!

I really wanted to write this with Legend/Fable but I don’t feel confident writing Fable as a main character just yet (I’ve seriously gotta play the games Legend’s in so I can write those two). But I went with Sky instead! I hope you like it!

Fic under the cut (can also be read on Ao3)

———————————-

Wild’s latest memory is one of his worst.

At least, Legend thinks it is. He isn’t usually around for the aftermath of these kinds of things. Warriors or Time are always quick to usher the group away as soon as that faraway look comes into the champion’s eyes. But today the memory had come and gone with uncharacteristic speed, and there had been no time for an escape.

Legend hadn’t minded too much at first. He’s handled worse things than the reminiscing of an amnesiac, after all. But that was before Wild had crumpled, falling to his knees with his hands pressed to his face. That was before the wailing had begun.

Even now, that an eternity has passed, the sounds of anguish still split the air. Twilight has drawn the champion into his arms, but his shoulder does little to muffle his heartbroken cries. And with each passing second Legend’s chest constricts further.

A lump situates itself painfully in his throat and he struggles to breathe past it. He won’t cry–he can’t—not here. Yet, the tears are coming anyway, burning his eyes and trickling down his cheeks.

He balls his hands into fists, fingernails digging into flesh. Even the stinging pain does nothing to keep back the emotions rising within him. And they’re not his own, not even close—for goodness sake, he doesn’t even know what the memory was about—but they come anyway, strong and suffocating. He fights not to crumble beneath their weight.

Still, the sobs wrack Wild’s body and still, he stands frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes from the sight.

Somewhere off to his side Time leads the others away, saying something about privacy. Somewhere even nearer Wind laments their helplessness. But Legend hears them as though they’re miles away.

When Wild speaks, however, he hears the anguished words plainly.

“I forgot her. How could I forget her?”

He doesn’t know who this mystery girl is (though he may have a terrible, terrifying inkling), but it doesn’t matter. The statement on top of everything else is just too much.

It takes everything he has to walk away instead of running.

Putting some distance between himself and the others helps a bit. As soon as he’s out of earshot, the emotions begin to subside and the tears along with them. But the mere thought of the champion–of how he’d looked and sounded–brings them roaring back.

Legend kicks viciously at a small pebble, sending it flying.

It was only a matter of time before this happened–before someone started bawling their eyes out and he just had to follow suit. But it’s stupid, horribly so. He isn’t the one who should be crying. He’s the one who should be standing strong, keeping his walls up, and letting no one, not a single person, see how the pain of others affects him.

He reaches a small cliff and, with a sigh, flops down onto it. It’s a dismal sort of day though, overhung with rain clouds and fog, and within a second of sitting down his tunic has sopped up half of Hyrule’s water supply. Cursing, he leaps back to his feet.

Wonderful. Even nature is trying to make him cry. Or scream. At this point, he feels more inclined to go that route.

Instead, he settles for glaring into the mist. It doesn’t provide any satisfaction, but it’s something.

Anger is better than sorrow any day.

“Legend?”

He jumps at the sound and whirls, reaching for his sword. Sky holds up a hand to stop him.

“It’s just me.”

Legend lets out an annoyed huff, sheathing his weapon. His thoughts are scattered now like seeds born on the wings of the wind.

“Yeah, I can see that now. Mind not sneaking up on me next time?”

Sky chuckles. “Sorry, I thought you’d hear me. I’m not usually all that stealthy.”

He comes to stand beside him, following the direction of Legend’s gaze from moments before.

“You were deep in thought though. I called you three times before you noticed I was standing there.”

Legend shifts, uncomfortably.

Three times? That’s a first. He’s usually much more attentive, often to a fault. “Bunny hearing” Fable jokingly calls it, and he can’t help thinking she’s onto something. Few sounds slip his notice.

“Well, what’re you doing here?” He asks, sitting down on the moist grass. Wetness be damned, he’s too tired to remain standing.

Sweet Hylia, why do emotions have to be so exhausting?

“Shouldn’t you be back there—” He jerks a thumb behind him— “comforting the person who’s actively breaking down?”

Sky settles down by his side and folds his hands in his lap.

“I can’t help Wild,” he says, quietly. “The fewer people around him right now, the better. Twilight and Time are with him and that’s enough.”

That’s good, Legend supposes. The champion is closer to the two heroes than he is to anyone else in their party. Still, he wishes something more could be done.

Well…what he wishes is that he could snap his fingers and all pain would just disappear—from him, from those he calls friends. That would be easier, much easier than sitting here and dealing with the whole lot of it.

…or watching it tear someone down into a sobbing, mess.

Hylia help him, his own problems are more than enough without him having to go and absorb everyone else’s. It’s like being a chu, oozing about, taking on any element they encounter, and spewing it out indiscriminately.

“It’s difficult watching something like that.”

Legend turns slightly so he can see the Skyloftian’s face. There’s something he can’t quite make out in his gaze, an emotion he thinks he should know yet can’t place.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Sky continues, almost as though reassuring himself. “But our hero’s spirits want so badly to take it all away. It just doesn’t sit right, leaving him with such a heavy burden.”

He meets Legend’s eyes now, a small, sad smile lifting his lips. “Especially when it feels like that burden has become yours.”

The tears spring back with a vengeance and Legend turns away quickly to avoid Sky catching sight of them. Not that it matters. He knows what the Skyloftian is doing, and he knows what it means. He saw him crying back there, he must have.

He slumps despite himself, curling in with his shoulders hunched. He feels very much like he did when Twilight and Sky saw him in his bunny form, caught in the trap of vulnerability and hating every second of it.

“I know it’s not my burden,” he mutters, testily. “I just…I can’t help it.”

Plucking a blade of grass he begins ripping it viciously into thin strands.

“It happens every damn time.”

Sky nods and there is a kind of comprehension in the movement. Somehow, it makes Legend feel worse.

First the tears, now an uncharacteristic outpouring of his heart. What on earth is wrong with him?

“It’s not a weakness you know.”

Legend gives a derisive snort. “I don’t see how it couldn’t be.”

“You’re such a kind, sensitive soul,” his uncle told him once, fondness in his eyes. But kindness and sensitivity are blatant invitations for hurt. That much has been drilled into his skull.

For a long moment, there is only suffocating silence. Then, Sky scoots closer. He’s warm, far more than the dreary chill of the wind or the bone-aching wet hanging in the air and seeping into his tunic. Still, Legend stiffens.

“I know it feels that way sometimes,” the Skyloftian continues. “But it’s what makes us heroes.”

Legend side eyes him. “Crying our eyes out makes us heroes?”

Sky chuckles. “Well, maybe not that specifically. You know what I mean, though.”

Legend sighs. He does, despite not really wanting to accept it.

“If only dealing with emotions was as easy as saving Hyrule,” he says, wryly, in a half-hearted attempt at bringing some humor into the conversation.

Sky’s face falls slightly. “Yeah…if only.” Then, he smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Anyway, I guess the bunny form makes more sense now.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Legend snaps, sending him a scowl.

“It’s just like the rancher said, you’ve got a soft, little bunny heart.”

“Hey, now! You’ve got no right!”

Sky laughs, completely unperturbed by Legend’s pout. And even the veteran has to admit the sound makes the air feel lighter. At the very least, it’s better than the sound of sobs.

“Oh!” The Skyloftian suddenly jolts, reaching into his pouch. “That reminds me. I have something for you.” He presses a small, wrapped object into Legend’s palm. “I’ve been meaning to give it to you, but I couldn’t find a good time. I guess now is as good as ever.”

Legend peers down at it, curiosity peeking. But before he can begin freeing it from the handkerchief that envelopes it, Sky rises.

“Well, I’m gonna head back. Open that whenever you want to. There’s no rush.”

“Okay,” Legend replies, slowly. He watches with narrowed eyes as the Skyloftian turns and starts in the opposite direction. If he wasn’t suspicious before, he certainly is now.

Nevertheless, he makes himself wait until Sky is out of sight to peel away the wrapping. And then he freezes, breath catching at the sight within.

It’s a tiny, ornate carving of a rabbit.

It stands on its hind legs, so alert and lifelike Legend half expects to see it twitch its nose. Gently, almost cautiously, he runs a finger over its little head, feeling the smoothness of the wood.

Something wet and warm drops onto the back of his hand, and he realizes with a streak of frustration that he’s crying again. Cursing Sky, he swipes at his eyes. There’s no stopping it now that it’s begun, however. In the end, he’s forced to let the sobs rip through him.

And as the tears pour down faster than he can wipe them away, he closes his fist around the precious object and clutches it to his chest.

[mundrakan]

Advent Calendar 8.

For @deliciouserror who wanted to see Severus Snape in trouble :)

Sometimes you had to sacrifice for things one really wanted – like doing deeds one wasn't proud of, but there necessary nonetheless, and sometimes one had to get a proper drink afterwards, just to forget. Severus had more than one by now. Five, at his count, though he was no longer sure about it. He wasn't sure about the man who just entered the dead-end pub either, he didn't seem desperate enough to be here. That was until he revealed his face. “Black.” If they sent someone after him, that was his absolutely least favourite choice. From both sides. “Snape. Time to go.” “I don't want to.” It sounded petulant, but Severus allowed himself a moment of childish stubbornness. When he had to do horrible things, when even Barty fucking Crouch, not much to look at himself, broke up with him because he wasn't good enough, when neither Death Eater nor Order of Phoenix trusted or respected him any, wasn't he allowed a little moping? Black had always been a man of deeds, not words, and so he didn't even hesitate before picking Severus up and simply carrying him out. Had he done it with any decency, bridal style or alike, Severus could have resisted. Instead he was piggybacked so effectively, his useless hammering of fist against Black's back only frustrated him more. Which made him angry and sad. More sad than angry, long before They arrived at the apparition point and from there at whatever location Black had in mind. By the time he put Severus in a bed, in some safe-house – he hadn't really paid attention – Severus very much pitied himself. The world was a cruel place, out to get him and he was just drunk enough to see it all. Getting dumped unceremoniously twice in an evening, once metaphorical, once physically was enough. He clung to Black's hand, despite knowing he would cringe in shame later. “Don't go. Don't leave me alone. Just... don't.” He clung to Black's sleeve like a life-line, and was so darn sure, that git would pull away anyway, given how much they hated each other. He couldn't quite remember what happened next, when he woke up again. Had he cried himself into sleep? Had he vomited? Or had he simply closed his eyes in sweet oblivion? When he turned, Black was right next to him, half slid off the bed and deep asleep. Pure desperation jolted through him. Had they...? He shook Black awake without mercy. “What did you do to me, you heathen?” Black chuckled half confused and half annoyed and shock his head. “The Hangover-potion was an atrocity, I grant you that – bad batch, that one. But we are both still in our clothes, so could you pretty please just leave and pretend it didn't happen? Some people had to keep someone from doing stupid things all night and need the sleep.” What a dumb way to get into someone's debt, when Severus hated nothing more than that. At least Black would certainly offer an opportunity to pay him back quickly. He was never not in trouble.

You want a microfic too? Contact me and tell me about your preferred pairing, or maybe the prompt you have in mind :)

[robertbelcherjr]

I feel like talking about my emotional connection to little Miles Edgeworth: it sort of hit me like a truck that I saw A LOT of myself in little Miles especially..and I wanted to share this long winded post I wrote about it..

For some reason after watching the entire Ace Attorney anime, I couldn’t help but feel deeply connected to Miles emotionally. Watching him clearly struggle to please Manfred reminded me so much of when I was a child trying to do the very same thing in regard to my parents.

After he had called out that lady for stealing the dog that wasn’t hers, when Manfred decided that Miles was worth something, he gifted him a cravat. And for the first time in his presence Miles smiles at him and thanks him.

Before that Miles’ interactions with him were short and quiet. Like he couldn’t quite trust him. He was still deeply hurt. And it hurt me as well in a strange way…because I know exactly how Miles felt in those moments of loneliness and isolation.

Bottling up your own feelings and emotions just to get thru the day. And that didn’t even begin for a remotely good relationship for the two either. And here’s where the personal ties begin..especially when your ‘family’ does things to make you feel even worse. They made me feel ashamed to like my special interests, like it was a shame to be so passionate about something. I cried when Manfred threw Miles’ token of his friendship away, the signal samurai keychain claiming it was childish and stupid. It reminded me about how my parents too made me feel shameful of my interests. Causing me to hide my interests away from them because I hated their harsh judgement of my character. That keychain meant so much to Miles. It was a token of his friendship with Phoenix and Larry. It was special. Made even worse by the way Manfred talked down to Miles, it was all too familiar to me. Calling him ‘useless’ like that during the course of Turnabout reminiscing in investigations, and Miles not even being able to speak up for himself right then. I too experienced that..with my own father. Being called trash, or a crazy bitch (meaning mentally ill really). When someone breaks you down like that it’s hard to even try to speak up.

Even being told that expressing my feelings and emotions was childish. It made me so closed off. So fearful of speaking up…. Little Miles reminded me so much of my own self when I was around his age as a child.

I just felt such a deep and profound connection to him in those moments makes me sad to think about even right now. He’s so special to me. It just really made me think and reflect in the past few days and I felt like expressing all of this because it’s really important

you know..when Miles tells Phoenix he should go ahead and laugh at him..I get that..honestly. I deal with my family members pointing and laughing at me when they decide to dig at me about my emotions and trauma..it’s a horrible feeling :( i understand why he said it when you are made to “understand” that emotions (such as crying) as childish and stupid it makes you not want to express them and instead deflect.

My own parents made me feel insignificant, and I just know Manfred did this to Miles especially when he was young and hurt because of the way he viewed his emotions as weak and pathetic…similarly this is how my parents looked at me (and my brother too..) It really makes you think about how horrible it all is in the end. Nothing hurts more than questioning the trust and love of those around you, especially family. As I said before because of this, Miles means so much to me, he’s my special little guy :,) I deeply care about him and this is the way I want to express myself.

Anyway, I just felt compelled I guess to make this. If you got this far, congrats! And uh, thanks for listening..it makes me feel more at ease.

[functional-left-kidney]

you might be dying. that is to say, you've already died - seven times now, or was it eight? five? ten? you're losing track.

your hands haven't stopped shaking ever since you came back the first time, heart pounding itself out of your chest as you grabbed at your throat, choking on air, choking on life. your nails left red marks on your skin as the man in the elevator with you watched, curious, horribly calm.

how is he so calm?

if he screamed, cried, paced, you could at least find some companionship, some solidarity. as it is, though, he's absolutely useless. he watches you step into the wet cavernous mouth and he does nothing. he watches your body tear itself in half and he does nothing. no compassion, no attempt to help. he makes you do everything. he makes you do everything. maybe he wants to stay in this elevator forever.

oh, he's so stupid. you feel like slapping him across the face every time you look at him.

you look at him now. he grins, his teeth white and sparkling.

you swallow down the acrid bile that seeps across your tongue, and stare down at the floor.

can't you still see his blood? red, hot, sticky, soaking into the carpet. it looked like when you rip into a pomegranate, the insides staining your hands, the flesh spilling all over the countertop. it felt like that, too. as easy as tearing into a pomegranate.

you can still feel his body beneath you, his heartbeat slowing under your hands.

you shudder.

“what's the matter? cold?” he laughs. “believe me, you wouldn't want to be here when the air conditioning goes out. if you’d endured that stuffy nightmare of a week, i don't think you'd ever -”

you're not listening. you can't listen, anymore. your ears are ringing, your heartbeat still thudding through your head. was it thirty seconds ago? five minutes? an hour? you drove those scissors into his neck and you killed him. you can't recognize that version of yourself. that person was a wild animal, feral, unthinking.

was it you? was it really you who killed him?

maybe you've been coming back wrong. maybe you're not you anymore. how many times can someone die before it starts to mess with them? the man's face looks blurry. you're getting tired. your hands hurt. your hands feel dirty. you glance down, half-expecting to still see them red with his blood. they're clean, of course. no trace remains of what happened.

how many times has he died? you can't remember. does it matter? maybe you'll kill him again. maybe he'll kill you. how many times do you have to die? won't you ever just stay dead? maybe it would be a mercy, at this point.

no, no, you can't let yourself think like that. it will be okay. you will figure this out. he will not help you, but it will be okay. you've come this far on your own. you can do it. you can crack open the mystery of this elevator and free yourself. you have to. you have to.

he's stopped talking. he's looking at you, now, quiet and firm.

he's waiting to see what you do next, you realize.

(so are you.)

[unluckyhoneybee]

Liability (Nico Hischier)

By Lorde

When you thought you would be left alone once again, Nico showed back at your door and made you see not everyone is so willing to leave. He wanted to stay. Honey Bee's 2000 celebration.

Warning: mental health struggles.

Nico was listening to your stories on the phone. You had called inmidiately after finding a little bird by your door. And now after having set it free, you were telling him the whole story.

The relationship was new. It had only been some weeks of dating and he was still fascinated by you. The way you spoke and your voice lit up and how you smiled. He could picture you, it was so easy to imagine that sweet expression.

"Sorry for bothering you with this. I just needed to call someone" You said with your voice fading down.

Nico frowned. "No, it's fine. Don't worry. I'm happy you helped the little guy"

"I could have made the story short. But you know... Sometimes I can't stop" You embarrassedly chuckled. "I talk too much" Your anxiety crept to your chest knowing that he probably had some stuff to do or was tired from the day.

"Babe, it's fine" Nico insisted. "I promise"

"I won't distract you anymore. You sure are busy"

"YN..."

"Have a nice flight tomorrow. And text when you get to Jersey."

"YN" But you had already hung the call.

Nico made his way to yours quickly, he was lucky he had driven to the airport on his own and didn't have to take anyone with him.

The soft knocks on your door made you look up. You looked horrible. You weren't expecting anyone. There was a yoghurt stain on your hoodie, your hair was a mess and probably greasy and one of your socks had a hole.

So you waited until the person left. But they didn't. They knocked again. Carefully, you walked to the door and peeked through the hole.

Nico. Nico was there.

You checked the phone. His plane had landed not even an hour ago. That meant he had come here first.

"YN?" He called.

You opened it quick and regretted it when you saw the surprise on his face. "Sorry, I-I was doing... Yeah, in- I was busy" You said.

Nico was surprised, worried, taken aback,... He was feeling many things. He had never seen you like this. Your relationship hadn't reached that point yet. You were both still keeping it classy.

"Are you okay?" He asked. You looked tired.

"I am" You nervously said. You weren't. Anxiety had been eating you alive recently. You had reached that point with Nico in which you were just expecting him to leave. It was the moment in which you were starting to feel more comfortable around him so the real you would come out and then he would leave. Just like everyone else.

"Can I come in?" He softly asked.

"Um... I'm not sure. It's messy." You said and tried to push the door. But Nico planted his hand on the middle of it and he was obviously stronger.

"YN" HE said. It was a warning. "You worry me" He whispered.

You panted when you heard those words. Why?.

"I'm fine. There is nothing to..."

"YN, I've missed you these days. I was left worried after the call. I want to spend time with you and make sure you are fine. I just want to spend some time with my girlfriend."

Tears filled your eyes. "Nico, I..."

"Can I come in? I'm sure things are not fine"

You bit your lip and nodded and by when he had taken his shoes off, tears were already falling down your face. "YN, babe"

"I'm sorry"

Nico embraced you in a warm hug and felt you breaking down in his arms. He held you in the middle of your living room, trying to get you to calm down and think about the moment when things had gone wrong, trying to remember if there had been any signal. He thought he had gotten to know you pretty well, he was your boyfriend now and he had expected himself to notice if something was wrong. How had this happened? You weren't okay. Your flat was more than messy, you were more than messy.

"YN, let's sit"

He took you to the sofa and for so long, he let you cry. This was the first time you cried in front of him and both of you were quite scared. But minutes went by and you finally calmed down. Nico kissed your head and cupped your face.

"What's wrong?" He muttered.

"I don't want you to leave" You said in your raspy voice.

"Why would I leave?"

"Everyone does"

Nico's heart broke. He remembered those times you had told him about old friends, about past relationships that didn't last, that family member you hadn't talked to in ages... He never saw a problem in there. People always came and left. That was part of life. He never thought it was a big issue for you.

"I won't"

"You will, eventually. Like everyone else. I will become too much" You laid on his chest and Nico squeezed you hard on his arms.

"Babe..."

"I'm too much to handle. But I understand. I can't force anyone to stay. People stay during the fun part and then leave when things get hard."

Nico couldn't take it. He couldn't sit there and listen to you talking like that.

"YN. No. You are not too much to handle. You are just you and that's amazing." He said cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look into his eyes. "I'm not gonna leave because of who you are. I'm not like everyone else and if you think I am it's because probably we don't know each other that much. But it's okay because we have all the time in the world. I'm going to stay here and help you out, and be here for you, and hold you on bad days, and listen to you ramble on the phone and talk for hours if that's what you want to."

"Why?" You muttered mainly because you couldn't understand why he wanted all of this.

"Because I love you"

"You can't, you don't know me" That was your biggest fear, letting him know the real you and then him leaving after that.

"No?" He softly asked.

"No"

"Then I would like to get to know you. The whole you." He whispered and kissed your forehead.

"Nico..."

"I promise I won't go"

"Even if I get like this quite often?"

He nodded. "I'll be here to help you out. And if I can't because I'm away, I will make sure you are fine in the meanwhile"

You pouted and he cupped your cheeks so gently.

"Please. Show me who you really are"

"A proper mess" You muttered with a weak laugh.

He smiled and kissed your lips.

"I'm in"

"Are you sure?"

"100%" He brushed a loose strand of your hair. "Let's get you into clean clothes"

"I'd like a shower" You whispered. "But I'm too tired"

"I'll go and help if you let me"

And after washing your hair with gentle fingers, he hugged you from behind. The soft music in the background made you two swing slightly.

"YN" He whispered.

"Yeah"

"I love you. I love already. I can't wait to see the rest"

Tears came back to your eyes, but this time, they were happy tears. Happy tears because for the first time, someone had stayed and held you. He was willing to stay with you.

Nico's eyes were closed and his breathing was slow, but he was leaving light kisses on your face.

"Nico"

"Mhm" He kissed your lips slowly.

"Thank you"

Note: I'm open to write more about this. Just tell me.

[coffeecat1983]

57 for Arthur for the headcanon game?

Headcanon game is here

57 - Self Image

Ooooh buckle up kids. (TW: mention of blood, nothing serious though)

So in terms of physical self image, Arthur doesn't really think about it. Hell if it wasn't for Marie he'd be in sloppy/relaxed clothes and nothing would match. He's just not that big on it.

But mentally? As a dad? Hooo boy.

Art always wanted to be a dad. When the bros were born he cried over it and the chance to help raise them, and he did pretty good at it, too! But there was a small incident when he was 20 where he was having a hard time juggling paperwork he had to do for Joe at the garage along with making sure dinner was cooking and he was babysitting the baby bros.

Arthur was going over the paperwork, bringing the pages with him to the kitchen and leaving the babies to play, and Tony was working at the Garage and Giovanni and Marianna were out running errands so nobody fully knows what happened but it's thought Luigi got up and was trying to walk. He fell and cut his head against the side of the coffee table.

Now here's the thing about head wounds. No matter how small, they bleed a lot. So Giovanni and Marianna get back to find Luigi with a tear-stained and blood streaked face and Arthur trying to clean his nephew up and calm him down.

Marianna instantly took over, being understanding. It was just a small cut after all. Gio however, was furious.

"How could you be so stupid?! What if he'd gotten into the kitchen and burned himself?! You've got to stop being so distracted all the time!"

"Gio," Marianna cautioned, seeing where it all was going. Arthur was bristling, ready to fire back until Giovanni dealt the final blow.

"I hope you never have kids, you'd be an awful dad."

Marianna saw it. Arthur's inner fiery spirit utterly shattered. The one thing he really wanted in life and he was told he'd be horrible at it.

There was no undoing what Giovanni had just done.

It took over a year and a lot of coaxing from Tony and Marianna before Arthur agreed to babysit the bros on his own again.

Fast forward to Arthur and Marie married for a few years. They've talked about having kids, Marie is eager but Arthur's more reserved. Then Marie becomes pregnant and the past rears its ugly head. Arthur is a mess the day Bria is born. He adores her, would give her anything she ever asked for, but beneath the joyful tears he's shaking he's so scared.

I'm going to ruin it, going to ruin her life. I'm not cut out to be a dad!

This inner chant repeats in the back of his mind throughout Bria's early years. Until one night when she's about four. He's read her a story and is tucking her in when she looks up at him, her eyes bright.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, cupcake?"

"I love you."

It's the first time without someone else saying "I love you" first. She's just said she loves her dad on her own. Something shifted in Arthur that night. An ache deep in his heart eased, if only a little.

"Love you too, cupcake." he replied, tenderly kissing her head.

He still carries that inner fear, always afraid that at some point he'll mess up or that he has already and doesn't know it, but there are moments where he thinks maybe, just maybe Giovanni was wrong.

Thanks for the ask, I hope you enjoyed!

"CC".

[ryuichirou]

I want to share some GreenViolet headcanon with you!!!

This is their song

They cling when cuddling

As per lion traits, Herman saves a portion of food for Greg

As per wolf ways, Greg smells shit before he eats them or use them

Herman gets nightmares of his murder a lot and only holding Greg close and inhaling his old paint and house flower scent would calm him down enough to talk until he's asleep

Legit that bitch cried when Greg fainted and Edgar and Lawrence tried to calm him down but didn't work

They started dating right after becoming Prefects but remained a secret until Edgar and Lawrence almost walked on them making out before the Midnight Tea Party and finally said they're dating to their friends and their both like "I-It was supposed to be a secret-"

They are switches your honor!

They used to hork it a lot in school, no one questioned why Greg was in Green Lion House in the middle of the night if they saw him cause "oh they're doing some Prefect shit"

Greg secretly has lots of sketches of Herman and will DIE BEFORE SHOWING ANYONE

Hiii, first of all! As always, I am very sorry for the late reply, and I want to thank you for liking our GreenViolet content and creating more of it! I am so happy that these two are a thing now….

Second of all, thank you for sharing your headcanons with us! They are cute and fun and I agree with a lot of them, especially the ones that nod to their lion/wolf themes. It’s also kind of fun to think about them being together and sleeping with each other and kind of hiding it, but also kind being not being able to keep a secret from their friends…

Oh and the song is lovely and very fitting!

In response, both as an apology for a late reply and frankly just because I needed an excuse to do it lol, I’ll share our headcanons for these two. This is a slightly different vision from yours (well obviously), and we don’t see them as switches, but I still hope you’ll enjoy these.

Gregory has been crushing hard on Herman for a long time, but he is horrible at opening up to someone, and Herman is horrible at getting hints, so it’ll take them some time to get together. But once the light bulb above Herman’s head lights up, he’ll pounce at Gregory and will never leave him alone lol the guy is intense.

Gregory is sure that Herman is more of a sensitive romantic out of the two of them (and a very naive one at that), but he is also quite a sensitive romantic himself. The smallest things that Herman does could get a reaction out of him, like a smile, a touch, a kind gesture or a word of support. Even if Gregory scoffs, his heart starts beating faster.

Gregory’s teasing of Herman is basically his weird way of flirting. He can’t flirt with him openly, because it’s too embarrassing (and a bit scary), so he just messes with him. Although, when he gets a bit aggressive (like when he threw a piece of bread at him), he is likely frustrated because Herman is, once again, horrible at getting hints.

Just like you said: Gregory has A LOT of sketches of Herman: some are neutral, like portraits and stuff, but some are more explicit. No one will ever see these, especially not Herman. Although poor Herman never gets to see any of Gregory’s artworks…

It’s not unusual for Gregory to watch Herman’s cricket games and training, but he is usually very stealthy about it: he knows where to sit to stay unnoticed by others. He goes there both to stare and to sketch, doing extremely important studies of certain Herman’s body parts…

Gregory would kiiinda like for Herman to model for him without any clothes, but it would be quite difficult for him to gather the courage to ask Herman about it. Even though Herman would never refuse. Anything for his friend’s art!

They have gotten really close after “the incident”. If they haven’t gotten together before this point, they’ll definitely start sleeping with each other afterwards. There is this air of “well, there’s nothing to lose anymore” between them, so it all happened naturally. But also very passionately and desperately.

Herman was quite surprised by Gregory’s sexual energy at first, and by how eager Gregory was to try some things. As we know, Herman is kind of a horny boy himself, but for some reason he always assumed that Gregory is just way too immersed with his artistic world to even have desires or any interest in sex. He was so wrong with his perception…

Gregory is kinkier than Herman in general, but it doesn’t mean that Herman is vanilla by nature. He is just too “simple” and never thinks about these things. But he is also quite eager and ready for anything, even if he didn’t know it was a thing a moment ago.

Herman always says that he’ll be gentle, and it’s always a lie because Herman’s head stops working the moment he touches Gregory’s skin under his clothes. In fact, he is quite intense, but Gregory really enjoys all the bite marks, bruises and hickeys he has all over his neck/shoulders, wrists and thighs. The fact that they are completely covered by his cloak and that not a single person knows what happens under his clothes kind of tingles him pleasantly.

[hampop]

.

I don’t have anywhere else to vocalize this so. The birth process was traumatizing. I didn’t really want to induce but was told I should. Go in at 7am on the fifth and they give me pills to soften my cervix and I lay in a hospital bed for a full day while they monitor me and my son. That night my water breaks and they start me on pitocin to induce the labor.

I labor for 18 hours.

The contractions are inconsistent. Some are brief and others long. Most are very painful. Every couple hours a nurse comes in to check my cervix which hurts unimaginably. I find out each time I’ve only dilated a little bit, much slower than they’d like me to be. I am in a dizzying pain, I ask for an epidural way sooner than I wanted to. The entry point is in my spine. My husband holds me while I cry like I haven’t since I was a baby and a whole team of nurses coaches me through to pain. Epidural kicks in. I feel ok for a while. Catheter gets put in. Nurses realize I’m not creating urine. They encourage me to just drink more water. I labor another several hours. No one says anything to me about what is going on behind the scenes—that my kidneys are experiencing acute trauma due to lack of water, that my body’s sodium is fucked. I’m crying and shaking and at 10pm on the second night the doctor comes in and tells me that my body rejects pitocin and has been sending fluid to other parts of my body as a reaction. They have been speculating what is wrong with me for hours, knowing something was wrong but not what. Multiple doctors across the country are contacted. They turn the pitocin off after nearly 18 hours of it. The doctor tells me the pitocin isn’t working and my baby isn’t going to be born naturally and that we need to get him out asap or we might both die. I agree to the c section. I didn’t want one, but I had to have it. They still call it elective and not emergency.

I am wheeled into a sterile white room, crying, while a team of surgeons preps for the surgery. I weigh too much. I, still experiencing labor pain, have to roll myself onto the operating table. They strap me down. I don’t get to see my husband for a while. They start giving me drugs to numb me from the neck down. This makes my lungs go numb. I have to actively try to breathe. My husband comes in and holds my hand. I can’t breathe. They put an oxygen mask on me. I vomit into it. I can feel them cutting me open though I don’t feel the pain. I vomit three more times. They deliver my baby and I start sobbing at his cries and I can’t touch him because my body is numb. My husband leaves my side to tend to the baby and is excitedly giving me information while I continue to vomit. They give me a drug to knock me out entirely. They don’t tell me this before they do it. I have sleep apnea. I stop breathing multiple times. I don’t really remember the birth of my baby.

I wake up and two surgeons are above me sewing me up. I ask if I’m ok. They ignore me. I’m hallucinating, thinking I’m speaking when I’m not. They congratulate me and the team rolls me into the hall, laughing and celebrating while I am genuinely convinced I died on the table. Nothing feels real. They roll me into my room and my husband is in the corner, holding our baby. I still think I’m dead. He goes to bring the baby to me, the nurses take my baby and run some more tests. My husband comes over to check on me. I ask if I’m dead. He says I’m not. I don’t believe him. The nurse comes over to finally hand me my baby. I start crying, I reach my arms out. She forgets something and turns around, taking him away just before I can reach him. I’m too tired to say anything. I finally get to hold him and before I can even process anything, a team of nurses comes over and starts trying to teach me how to breastfeed. I am high as a kite, my baby is rejecting my breast, I still think I’m dead. Someone takes him from me at some point and I am told to go to bed. I do. I wake up in horrible pain. The next two days are spent trying to bond with my son while being barely able to move. I’m in a diaper, I’m bleeding profusely. The hospital bed is too high and can’t be lowered so I have to learn to crawl like an animal to get into it. My legs are swollen with the water my body was rejecting. I am told to rest, as I have received a major abdominal surgery. I am also told not to rest, to keep from forming life threatening blood clots. They won’t let me lay down for more than an hour.

I finally leave after four total days. I am terrified of getting pregnant again.