#and then there was a Little Blonde Child who could mind control people??

[twobitzz]

also the time lex luthor sent him to the fucking future or something to adopt train some kids(?) in the generation outlaw issues. so that was was like 6 more children i think

The fact that Jason took care of like 7 different children at 7 different occasions…….DC just let that man adopt a kid already.

[meidiary]

( 📁 ) THINGS THEY DO WHEN THEY'RE CRUSHING ON YOU !

synopsis: the strawhats think they're so subtle with their 'nonchalant` acts of love towards you... 😒 they're not

character: sanji, zoro & luffy

warning: pure tooth rotting fluffy fluff & nicknames

mei's note: guess who's back from her hibernation 👋😔.. but on the bright side- l do have loads planned hihhih <3

SANJI thinks he's so very casual when displaying his crushing feelings. but in reality it is the complete opposite, considering:

♡ the stolen glances of you during meals with all the strawhats, where he doesn't even eat anything, instead being totally engrossed in your cute laughs derived from usopp's unfunny jokes. the way your fingers gently hold your fork always piques his interest. he studies your facial expressions when you taste the food he prepared for everyone, to figure out whether you enjoy it. if you did enjoy the meal, expect to see it thrice as much as usual..

♡ the lingering touches you receive from sanji anytime he has the chance, which, on a side note, never cease to make your cheeks burn;

he needs to get past you to grab some plates => his hands, almost instinctively, gently grab your waist before he lowers his head, asking you "if you don't mind, darling-". one of his hands remains on the sides of your waist even when you've moved aside to let him pass. "thank you," he whispers in your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand. you awkwardly giggle, not finding an appropriate answer.

luffy was letting his 6-year-old child mentality take over; jumping around on deck and bothering the other strawhats trying to get accustomed to the sun shining so early in the morning. he didn't see you walking out of your shared room with nami before accidentally bumping into you, causing you to trip => sanji is there before you could even process the situation. one of his arms tightly holding your legs. In contrast, his other arm was wrapped around your waist, pushing you onto him. "luffy, you little-!" sanji realizes he still has you in bridal style when he cuts himself off, "are you alright, sweetheart? you're not hurt, are you?" he could've sworn your soft smile melted his heart right then and there, even the other strawhats noticed how absolutely smitten this man is for you.

♡ the abundant patience sanji offers you is one of a kind. you won't find him smiling, oh so softly, at any strawhat's mistakes except yours. it's only you that he's so careful with, so gentle and soft-spoken. treating you as if you were a fragile vase, that one wrong move would break you.

"sweetheart- that's not how you cut a carrot," sanji chuckles, witnessing how you, somehow, accidentally mushed the carrot with the knife instead of cutting it. usopp lets out a cackle as he sees the mush which has derived from your cutting skills.

"only you could mess up cutting a carrot!" sanji glares at usopp, making him cover his mouth, trying to sniffle the laugh. he slowly walks out of the kitchen, slightly scared sanji might throw him overboard.

"let's try something else, yeah?" the blond-haired cook smiles at you.

he stands behind you, holding both your hands with his, before grabbing the knife with your right hand and holding a new carrot with your left one. like a puppet master, he controls the motions of your hands, and after a bit, you find the carrots all sliced up. "see? knew could do it," sanji caresses your hands with his.

"sanji..?" you mutter, leaning against his chest.

he looks down at you and hums, waiting for you to say whatever was on you mind. "can we eat now?"

you receive a chuckle from sanji as he nods. "of course darling, we can eat now. thanks a lot for helping me," he sends you a smile before grabbing the plates.

ZORO knows he's being way too obvious with you, but he frankly just doesn't care enough. everyone and their mother knows he has a crush on you tolerates you more than other people because of:

♡ how protective he is of you. this man won't let a fly harm you, let alone actual enemies during fights. he'd rather come back with some more scars than let them lay a finger on you. hence why you find yourself in the current situation.

zoro's sat down whilst hearing both you and nami lash out on him. a sigh leaves his mouth.

"why are you so stubborn?!" you cry out, eyes red and watery from the sheer fear of almost having lost him.

nami shakes her head, dumbfounded. "you could've fucking died, zoro. has that thought ever crossed your small fucking mind, huh?!"

"I was fine zoro.. I would've made it.. you- you didnt have to-" you utter before cutting yourself off, lip wobbling with tears-stained cheeks. "just.. don't ever do that again, 'kay?" you stand inbetween his widespread legs, your hands meet both sides of his face, pulling it to meet your eyes. "please.."

as if on que, his eyes soften and his furrowed eyebrows loosen immediately. he lets out yet another sigh, but this time, one of defeat. "alright." zoro's heart aches at the sight of those tears on your pretty face. it aches even more knowing he was the cause of them.

the strawhats are astonished, flabbergasted and, on top of that, even a bit annoyed at how easily zoro folded. at that very moment sanji, nami and usopp shared collective eyecontact, they knew how down bad he was. and now they have yet another thing to bully him about..

♡ his over-the-top jealousy has you and everyone within a 100m radius of you in a chokehold. no one dares to as much as look your way anymore. zoro made sure of that. if someone even breathes too hard near you, this man will be on his way to knock him out.

♡ the fact that he has his hands on you 24/7, always seems so obvious and nonchalant to him. he doesn't even think twice about it anymore. his arm around your shoulders, his hand spread on your back, him shamelessly holding your waist with one of his hands while the other is occupied holding some bags.

his arm is wrapped around your waist as you two stand in line. you had gotten the task to do the groceries with zoro, but once you say a smelled a sweet, floraly fragrance, both you and zoro knew this 'short' and 'easy' task would take much longer than planned.

"i'll be super quick, zoro, I promise!" you giggle as you look up at him reassuring. "mhm, ya said that last time, too, remember? ended up taking a whole day, and somehow I had to carry all those bags for ya," zoro raises his brows at you playfully, knowing very well he'd hold all the bags in the world for you if you'd want him to.

"yeah~ i know.. thank you," you smile at him, receiving an eye roll from him. "yeah, yeah, now hurry up and get movin'." you move along to catch up with the que, missing the way he smiles as you so absolutely adored.

LUFFY himself doesn't realize he treats you differently from the other strawhats. most of the things he does because of his little crush on you usually don't even register in him. but to the strawhats, it's so obvious he likes you due to:

♡ him attentively listening to you whenever you speak, never fails to shock the other strawhats. they could go hours on end, scolding luffy for whatever possible thing he had done, and there would be a good chance he wouldn't even bat an eye. but when you do it- that's when he gets serious.

"luffy! stop fucking around and get serious!" nami yells out, trying to get his attention. "LUFFY!"

luffy keeps peeling the banana in his hand, not paying all too much attention to what nami is on about. it's not that he doesn't care! it's just that this yelling gets repetitive, so he doesn't really pay attention to all the small quarrels every now and then. he's listening to what she's saying, he really is! he just doesn't want to enter the argument.

but then his eyes shoot up from his half-peeled banana. you were talking to him. " 'luf, what we're trying to get at is that you were acting very reckless, and you got us really worried about you, y'know.." you cross your arms over each other before making eye contact with the raven-haired captain.

"sorry," luffy mutters wholeheartedly, looking you in the eyes. his previous grin disappeared after he heard you speak to him. "i'll try not to anymore, 'kay?" he opens the banana completely and points it your way, wanting you to take a bite.

you smile and head over to the spot he's seated in and take a piece of the fruit before leaning against the back of the seat. "sorry I scared you, sunshine..." luffy mutters, soft enough for only you to hear. "really didn't mean to.."

you let out a small sigh of relief. " 'ts alright 'luf! just promise you'll be more careful from now on.. please," you lean against the side of his body as you rise your head, looking at the beautiful night view from the boat.

"i promise I'll try, sunshine, I really will." and with that, his usual toothy smile is back.

nami rolls her eyes, scoffing, as she munches on some of the pastry sanji had prepared earlier. sanji nudges zoro to witness the scene unfolding before their eyes. usopp sniffles his laugh with his hand, hiding behind zoro.

they could all agree on the fact that you were his soft spot.

♡ his usual grin being replaced with a soft smile whenever you speak is another thing that luffy never realizes. yet the others do.

you'd speak about the most mundane chores or moments you've experienced. albeit it being some of the most tedious things known to man, he'd listen so thoughtfully. as if anticipating a shocking ending, yet there in reality, he wasn't anticipating anything like that. he genuinely just lived your voice.

the way you pronounce the words. the small differences in pronunciation between you and others always bring a small to his face, he finds it absolutely adorable. the specific words you use to describe something never cease to make him smile ear to ear.

plus points if you're talking about something you're passionate about. he'd be so overwhelmed with how endearing you look speaking about your hobbies and loves. the small smile on your pretty face, growing wider and your tone getting giddier.

in conclusion, this man loves to listen to you yap about anything, to be honest.

my other one piece fics

mei's note pt.2 : also if you've seen this post before it was finished (bc someone accidentally published it before it was done) no you didn't...

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎDon't Worry Darling౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: kidnapping, childbirth, angst, murder, revenge pairing: coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: yours and coriolanus' daughter is kidnapped author’s note: requested by a very lovely anon- I didn't post with the ask because it has the plot in it, but I hope you know who you are and I hope you enjoy! much love, thank you for sending this in <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

He would kill for you.

That wasn't nothing. It was everything he would do for you summed up in five little words. All one syllable. Forming a threat to any who wronged you.

Coriolanus knew his soul was stained, tainted by the wrongdoings of his past, no matter how justified they were in his survival. Awful or not, he had made it this far, and now he had you. So how bad had it been, really?

You were a heart-shaped, lace-trimmed, sugar-filled surprise whom he'd fallen head over heels for instantly. How was he expected to resist such a treasure, a jewel in the worn crown of the Capitol?

No, you were perfect. And he knew he didn't deserve you. That didn't stop him from courting you, however, from making you promises with sweet kisses in tow. It certainly didn't stop him from spoiling you with both pleasure and pretty things, or from sliding an engagement ring onto your finger.

You were the sparkle in his eye, the shine to his reputation. But more than that, you were his love, his darling. Coriolanus had the best of everything, and his wife was absolutely no exception. You were the best of his best.

When you became pregnant, he was absolutely doting, making a point to spoil you even more than before if that was possible. His hands barely left you, except to reach for his credit card. Being the president, he had leeway to take as much time off of work as he needed to be by your side.

Coriolanus coddled your growing belly, spooning you every night with his arms wrapped protectively around it. He cocooned you with his affection and you made no move to break out of it.

You glowed under the effect of pregnancy, just as he knew you would. It filled him with a sense of pride, seeing you all round and full of his child. It was a sign that you were purely, undoubtedly his.

Childbirth very nearly sent him into a frenzy. Here, nature was taking control. Which meant he had none. Memories and thoughts of his dear departed mother flashed through his mind, and he tried not to let his fear show as he held your hand, smoothing sweaty hair from your face and telling you how well you were doing.

It scared him because his money was useless here.

Regal even as you were birthing his child, you spoke meekly, trying not to squeeze his hand too hard in fear of hurting him. He wanted you to break his hand if you needed to, whatever would alleviate your pain. But no, you were soft and kind even in agony.

When your baby girl slid into the world, he sighed in relief, even if only because your suffering was over. And as the doctor handed her to you, he could see tears shining like pearls on your face. There was that familiar pride. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, lips lingering there for a moment. "You're amazing," he muttered against your skin.

Then he saw his daughter fully for the first time. Coriolanus didn't believe in love at first sight. But now here he was, staring at his little daughter swaddled in your arms. You made a pretty picture. His girls.

Right then and there, his very first vow was remedied. There were two people he'd kill for now.

Penelope Snow was his purest love, held at equal status with you. Affectionately nicknamed 'Penny', she was the absolute apple of his eye. You always said she looked more like Coriolanus, and he supposed he could see it in her blonde hair and blue eyes. But when he really studied her, all he could see was your ethereal beauty reflected in his daughter.

Although Penny was an absolute darling who loved all she met, she was a daddy's girl through and through. He held her whenever he could, bouncing her on his knee and winding a hand through her blonde curls.

Often you would walk in on the sight of him in his study, Penny sleepy against his chest while he dotted i's and crossed t's on some proposal. He'd look up, smiling tiredly and patting his daughter's side. It was heartwarming- how much he loved her.

Because he was a pushover when it came to her, Coriolanus spoiled Penny beyond anything. You worried to him that she'd become some sort of monster because of it, but she remained sweet, always adorably thanking her daddy when he gave her something new. That only encouraged him more.

Penny loved walking in the garden with her parents, playing with her dolls, and reading. You made a point not to let her spend too much time with a nanny, conscious of the way the children of other socialites in your circles clung to their caretakers in place of their parents. When you brought up this concern to Coriolanus, he agreed, carving out time in his schedule to spend as a family.

Not only did he adore Penny, he also adored you as a mother. It filled him with joy to witness you with your daughter, and he let you know in every way possible. He held you closer than ever, hands wandering past your hips, whispering how much he loved you, how in awe he was of you.

It was a wonder you didn't fall pregnant again sooner. Penny was three when you received word from the doctor.

Of course, you both were overjoyed, and thus began his pregnancy routine again. He felt he'd never been happier than now, with his beautiful daughter and enchanting wife. The three of you were splashed across every tabloid in the Capitol. The envy of everyone, Panem's model picture-perfect family.

That was just the way he wanted it.

Coriolanus watched you adjust your earrings in the mirror, silently admiring you from behind. You caught his eye in the mirror, a lovely smile overtaking you. "Tonight, I'm unsure which part of me you're looking at."

When you stood, he was immediately encircling his arms around you, kissing your forehead twice. "All of you. Every bit. You're beautiful."

"Not too much?" you fussed with your dress as you said it, smoothing the sheer red fabric.

"Perfect," he nodded, holding your face in his hands and pressing his lips to your hairline. "You're absolutely ravishing, my love."

You smiled, your eyes sparkling. Reaching your delicate hands up, you smoothed his collar, fixing his tie. "You look so handsome," you said softly, leaning up to kiss him. He didn't care if you got lipstick on his mouth.

"Daddy?" Penny poked her head in, her face lighting up when she saw the both of you. She ran in, burying her little face into Coriolanus' knee. He scooped her up, balancing her on his hip and smiling.

"Isn't Mama pretty?" he asked, and she nodded enthusiastically.

"Mama's so pretty," she said with all the sincerity of a child.

You cooed, kissing her cheek and smoothing her hair. "My baby."

Coriolanus gave you a little frown. "We can't take her with us?"

"Oh, she'd be tired halfway through," you slid your arm around his neck, and he wrapped his free one around your waist. "These things go far past bedtime." You stroked your daughter's cheek for a moment. "Penny, give Daddy a kiss so we can get going."

She pressed her lips to Coriolanus' cheek, and he set her down with one last squeeze before she ran off to find her nanny.

Attention turned fully back to you; he thumbed a strand of your hair. "Shall we?"

You nodded, and he gave you a quick kiss before offering you his arm. He helped you down the stairs and into the car. Even though you were in the early stages of pregnancy, that didn't stop him from being overprotective.

The gala was typical of those kinds of events- champagne and allied conversation. It wasn't anything too precarious- you stayed on his arm sipping sparkling cider, playing the diplomatic First Lady wonderfully as you always did.

He could see you getting tired though, about three hours in. Parting ways with the Head Gamemaker, he turned to you, fingers running up and down your waist gently. "Would you like to-"

There was a sharp noise like shattering glass. Coriolanus immediately ducked, bringing you down with him to the floor. Gunshots. Thinking only of you and the baby, Coriolanus held your body close to his, arms protectively wrapped around you, his back facing the direction of the sound.

A hand on his shoulder made him look up, and he saw one of the Peacekeepers gesturing to him. "To the safe room, sir. You and your wife."

Coriolanus stood immediately, gathering you in his arms. You wouldn't be able to run in heels. He carried you hurriedly to where the Peacekeeper directed them, where a few more security and several partygoers were hiding away. A chair was produced, and he set you down, checking to see if you were okay.

Smoothing your hair, he reassured you that everything would be okay. The two of you were safe now. You slid a hand over your belly, inhaling nervously. "How long do you think we'll be here? I'm worried about Penny."

He ran a soothing hand down your face, stroking your cheek. "Penny's fine, sweetheart. She's safe back at the house. It'll be okay."

But still you worried, insisting something didn't feel right. Coriolanus did his best to keep you calm, kneeling at your side and holding your hand and reminding you to breathe steady.

It was nearly an hour later that he noticed the Peacekeepers speaking amongst themselves, casting glances back at them occasionally. He perked up when one started to walk over, his face serious.

Coriolanus stood to meet him, not letting go of your hand. "Has the shooter been apprehended?"

"Yes," the man started, and Coriolanus felt you stand up beside him, squeezing his hand. "But there's been other news."

"What happened?" you asked softly, and Coriolanus wound his arm around your waist, hand slightly over your belly. You touched that hand with your adjacent one, twining your fingers together again.

The man looked grim, and Coriolanus' hold tightened on you. "Sir, your daughter...she's been taken."

You fainted. As soon as the words left his mouth, you crumpled in Coriolanus' arms, and he held on tight, kneeling on the ground and saying your name frantically. He looked up at the bystanders. "Someone get her water!"

Once he heard footsteps hurrying away, he looked back up at the man, face incredulous. "What do you mean, taken?"

He nodded solemnly. "Not fifteen minutes ago. Her caretaker was held at gunpoint, and when she refused to relinquish your child, she was shot. And then they took her. We're trying to figure out where."

"Send every Peacekeeper you can afford," Coriolanus snapped, looking up at the young man. It was funny in a way. He'd once been in that position and now he was giving orders. The thought made his heart soften a bit. "Leave no stone unturned. Find her."

The man saluted and went to tell his comrades. Coriolanus turned his attentions back to you, stroking your cheek and breathing in relief when your eyes fluttered open. He managed a small smile. "Sweetheart...how are you feeling?"

"They took Penny?" you choked, trying to sit up, and he supported you with an arm around your back.

"We're going to find her," he assured, taking the water retrieved by someone nearby and holding it to your lips. "It's going to be okay. She'll be okay."

"You were saying we should bring her...and I said no..." you panicked, your breathing growing unsteady. Coriolanus shook his head, pressing your face to his chest.

"This is not your fault," he whispered into your hair, aware of all eyes on you. "Never. It could never be your fault. They're going to find our daughter. I promise."

You looked up at that. Coriolanus had never made you a promise he couldn't keep, and the certainty in his voice calmed you. He kissed your temple, had you drink more water, and thus began the wait.

It was agony, worrying about his daughter while trying to keep you stable. His mind wandered to the worst possible conclusions, horrible images appearing before his eyes. He waved them off, praying you weren't wondering the same things.

Eventually, the Peacekeepers deemed it safe for everyone to go home. You remained worried, crying softly into Coriolanus' shoulder as he carried you up the stairs into the bedroom. He called for a sleep aid, one of your pregnancy ones, in an attempt for you to get some rest.

The pill kicked in, and he sat beside you, your head in his lap. He idly stroked your hair, anxiety not letting him sleep. The future's possibilities scared him more than anything had before. This is what he fought for. His family, the one thing he wanted to protect more than anything. If he couldn't keep you and your daughter safe, what kind of man was he? What kind of husband? What kind of father?

The phone beside the bed rang, and Coriolanus picked it up instantly as not to disturb you. "What did you find?"

As the person on the other end spoke, his heart beat hopefully. He gave an order in response to the information, and then made a call to send the car to the front. He'd be down in a moment.

Looking down at you, a sense of dread filled him. He didn't want to leave you here, so vulnerable and emotional, especially in your delicate condition. With that in mind, he picked up the phone once more, making a final call.

"...Tigris? You heard the news?" he listened to her for a moment. "Would you come over for a little while? Just until I get back. I don't want to leave her alone...thank you."

Hanging up, he resumed stroking his fingers through your hair, wanting to wake you up and tell you what he was about to do.

But it would only send you into further hysterics. For he'd never told you of that first vow.

Getting out of the car, Coriolanus squinted at the concrete building hidden under the guise of darkness. He looked at the nearby Peacekeeper, who nodded.

Moving swiftly, Coriolanus allowed them to direct him up the stairs, past the freshly murdered bodies splayed bloody across the ground all the way to the top. He barely paid them any mind. The only thing on his mind was Penny.

When he reached the door to the room, there were already several soldiers standing by, guns raised. He could hear noises from the inside, one of which he recognized as his daughter's crying.

The sound spurred him on, and he gave a signaling nod, triggering the head Peacekeeper to kick the door down, a line of his men trailing behind him and shouting things at Penny's captors.

Coriolanus waited a moment before walking in. He surveyed the scene coldly, looking at the men pushed against the wall by the soldiers, held at gunpoint. Then his eyes found Penny. His baby girl.

Messy hair, dusty clothes, scratches on her arms, she was a sorry sight. Tears were streaming down her rosy cheeks, and his heart broke to see it. He went to her, kneeling in front of the chair where she was tied up and undoing the binds. She sniffled, her chin wobbling. "Daddy...Daddy..."

"Shh, princess." He got the ropes undone, scooping her into his arms and standing up. She leaned her face against his shoulder, one ear against it, and he rubbed her back. Since he was still in his dress shirt from the gala, she mussed his collar with tears, but he couldn't care less. "Daddy's here...Daddy's got you."

Over her shoulder, he gave the head Peacekeeper a look, and then turned back to his daughter. "Close your eyes, Penny. It's going to be very loud for a minute but then we're going to go home."

She nodded into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. He steadied one hand over her uncovered ear, and the chaos began.

A dozen fired shots sounded, and Penny winced, but her eyes stayed closed. He dropped a kiss to her hair. She still smelled like the flowery lotion you put on after her baths to keep her skin smooth.

Once the shooting was over, he uncovered her ear, whispering that it was okay, she was safe. She looked up at him with that same sweet smile, despite the fact that she'd been through who knows what. His happy girl.

Then there was another shot. He heard Penny's scream before his brain registered what had happened. It was only when he felt the blood leaking onto his arm that he realized.

Penny was crying, her sobs smashing what was left of his heart. Her arm was bleeding where the bullet had grazed her. The man who'd fired the gun was immediately tackled by a nearby Peacekeeper, who beat him unconscious.

Coriolanus held Penny tight to him, trying to hush her. "Shh, princess, it's okay. You're going to be okay. I've got you. Daddy's got you. Don't worry, baby."

He whispered this to her all the way down the stairs, into the car, and through the ride to the hospital, but she couldn't be calmed. Not that he blamed her-it must have hurt like hell.

It wasn't a problem getting her into a room. The doctors worked quickly, telling him the bullet wasn't lodged in her little arm, that it just needed to be taped up and rested. Still, Penny squirmed when they took bloodwork, cried some more when they stuck an IV in her, and clung to Coriolanus when they came to clean the wound.

He held her through it, ordering the doctors to do everything as gently as possible. She was a three-year-old for heaven's sake.

It was all over soon, not as quickly as he'd have liked, but still. A nurse gave Penny some melatonin, and she was out like a light, sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed. He sat beside her, an arm around her sleeping form. Your daughter was safe. That was all that mattered.

Except for one thing.

The door of the car shut behind Coriolanus, and he looked chillingly up at the familiar concrete structure. Once this was all over, he'd have it burned. This place wouldn't taunt his family with its existence any more.

He took his time walking up the stairs. They would have seen that he was here by now, and he wanted to make his captor squirm.

As he casually ascended, his mind dwelled on the events of yesterday. You had come running into the room, still in your beautiful dress from earlier, makeup slightly smudged, but still his stunning wife. Like a magnet you'd been drawn to your baby girl, joining him on the bed and weeping out of pure relief and exhaustion.

Coriolanus had put his arms around both of you, holding his girls tight as you stroked Penny's hair, asking him questions he'd given smooth answers to.

Yes, he'd found her. No, that wasn't his own blood on his shirt. She'd been very scared, but she was going to be okay.

He knew she wouldn't remember most of what happened, thank goodness. The doctor had spoken of memory loss as a trauma response, and he was grateful for it. Not just for Penny's sake, but for yours. You didn't need to know the extent of what had happened that night.

He reached the top floor. Now he was thinking of that sweet, sweet image of you and Penny in his arms, both sleeping against his chest. If he could've commissioned a portrait right then and there he would have.

Penny was safe. Your unborn child was safe. You were safe. And he intended to keep it that way. His status as a husband and father was duly maintained.

There was just one more thing to take care of.

Pausing at the door, he listened for a moment to the groans coming from inside. Pathetic. Deciding he was tired of waiting, Coriolanus pushed the door open, meeting the eyes of the man tied up in the middle of the room, just as his daughter had been twenty-four hours prior.

It was him. The man who'd shot Penny.

The Peacekeeper standing nearby took Coriolanus' suit jacket and handed him his pistol. Rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, he stared the man dead in the eye. "I assume you've had time to think about the offer."

Glaring up at him, the man spat at his feet. "I'd sooner die."

"You will." Coriolanus didn't flinch. "Either you walk out of here with a sense of dignity and disappear or you never walk out of here with a shot through your head."

To his hidden horror, the man's lips twisted in a wry grin. It was disgusting to behold. "Ain't doin' nothin'. I'll get out. And next time it won't just be your daughter. It'll be that bitch you call a wife-"

Coriolanus pulled the trigger before he could finish. He was tired of listening, of being patient. And after insulting his wife, well, he'd signed his own death warrant.

Handing the pistol back to the Peacekeeper, Coriolanus turned his back to the body, putting his suit jacket back on. Maybe on the way home he'd stop and get you flowers. Yes, that'd be just the thing. And something for Penny too. A new book, perhaps, one of the fairy tale ones she loved so much.

Tonight, he'd erase this man's memory from his mind. He'd tuck Penny in and read her new book out loud as she fell asleep. He'd go to you and pamper you and make love to you as slowly and softly as you wanted. And then he'd sleep soundly knowing his promise had been and would continue to be fulfilled.

It was a kick in the face to anyone who'd ever doubted him.

He would kill for you.

[cupidvision]

𝒑𝒂𝒄- 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆

about this pac: this will tell you what your future child is going to be like. it was meant to be for babies, but i got more teenager energy from this!

—> how to choose? close your eyes, clear your mind, and open your intuition. then think about the numbers, the images, the feeling they gives you. then choose 💗

banners by @fairytopea @princessantisocial @dollywons @h-aewo

1->2

3->4

pile 1

signs: 3, 1, 16, cancer, earth sign, water signs, chaotic energy

3 of cups reversed, page of pentacles reversed, ace of cups, the tower

so your child is going to definitely be a wild child. they love partying, following the crowd, and may struggle with independence. they may also be a little ungrateful at times, or just act as if they are ungrateful. i’m seeing though, they have a lot of love and compassion on their heart, they just might struggle with being around people who also portray that. i’m seeing that the age i’m talking about is their teenage years, so 13-18. but i am seeing as a child they were full of love, feelings, creativity, intuition, etc. as they got older though, that changed. they could be going through a harsh wake up call during that time in their life, or i’m seeing that they’ll go from a sweet loving child to suddenly a rebel

other things about this child: feminine energy, light brunette, straight hair, beauty, 5’7

pile 2

signs: 6,7, 21, pisces, aquarius, gemini, scorpio, saturn, smarty pants, positive energy

king of cups, the lovers, the world, 7 of cups

the first thing i heard in my head was “smarty pants” so they may be good in school or just very smart in general. one thing is for sure, they are emotionally intelligent, empathetic, and they like having things in their life organized or under control. they’re easy to get along with, they’re not a problem child, or a child you will have to worry about. they may have a lot of love in their heart as well and when they’re grown, i’m seeing they will definitely be partner and marriage material. they will accomplish many things in life, they may also love going on trips with you. they are someone who would like to know their purpose, and someone who is driven to figure out their purpose

other things about this child: masculine, blonde hair, short haircut, taller (5’8-5’9)

pile 3

signs: 2,5,4, scorpio, taurus, gemini, aries, the moon, mental issues

the high priestesses, 5 of cups, king of swords, 4 ot wands reversed

the first things i thought is that this child could possibly have issues. specifically mental illness. with the 5 of cups being here, this often represents, failure, pessimism, grief, etc. they might suffer from depression, or anxiety. feelings that they’re not enough. as well as 4 of wands in reversed being here, feeling like you don’t have a home and struggling to communicate. so if or when you ask them what’s wrong, they can have a hard time communicating what their feeling and thinking. with that being said, this child actually has amazing qualities about them. they’re morally correct, have a good intuition, and are highly acknowledgeable. they’re also a honest person, who’s logical and quite disciplined

other things about this child: masculine, longer nails, darker hair, wears hoodies or clothes that cover their body, serious resting face

pile 4

signs: 7, 3, 20, scorpio, leo, virgo, cancer, pluto, excitable

7 of cups, king of pentacles reversed, 3 of cups reversed, judgement

i’m seeing that this child is quite imaginative, and might be a little delusional. they also have a problem with over indulging in things. so when they pick up a habit, it’s not just a little habit, it’s that habit to it’s most extreme extent. they may also like partying, but might feel alone deep down. they could be stubborn as well. they can also be greedy and can care a lot about what their peers think. they also have to keep up with the fashion trends, and they also need to seem like they’re rich, etc. status means a lot to them, i’m seeing that they will have a rude awakening to this behavior though. so, this period of “i need to be like my peers” is temporary and not an issue they will always struggle with. i’m seeing that they might’ve tarnished their reputation with you as a parent, but they will work for a redemption and will want forgiveness. i’m also seeing they could be a very forgiving person after this awakening

other things about this child: feminine energy, long hair, darker colored hair, average height (5’4-5’6)

[rootedinrevisions]

Twisted Fate: Part 2

SUMMARY: As she navigates the aftermath of the storm, Lexi must confront the lingering emotions and unspoken words that have haunted her since their breakup. Bound by the twist of fate that brought them together again, they must decide if their reunion is merely a consequence of circumstance or the universe's way of telling them something else.

WARNINGS: Angst. Violence/Blood (Storm Damage & Injuries)

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

PART 1

The first aid tent was bustling with activity, a haven of controlled chaos in the aftermath of the storm. Medics moved swiftly, tending to the injured, offering comfort and care. I sat on a cot as a medic carefully bandaged the cut on my head. The pain was dull but persistent, a reminder of the ordeal I had just survived.

"There we go," the medic said, securing the bandage. "That should hold for now. You'll want to change it at least once a day until it's healed. You've got a mild concussion, but otherwise, you're in good shape considering everything. Take it easy for the next few days, okay?"

You nodded, offering a small smile of gratitude. "Thank you."

"You're all clear to leave. If you need any supplies or a place to stay there's a red tent next to us that has blankets, clothing, food, and water. They're also helping get people a place to stay for the night if you need it," the medic continued before she moved on to the next person.

As I gathered my things and prepared to leave the tent, my eyes wandered, taking in the scene around me. That's when I saw him - Tyler - on the other side of the tent. He was talking to a girl with blonde hair pulled up with a claw clip. Her face was streaked with dried blood. She looked pretty banged up, her clothes torn and dirty.

I watched as Tyler reached down and gently brushed a piece of hair from the woman's face, tucking it behind her ear with a familiarity that sent a pang through my chest. My mind immediately flashed back to the days when he used to do that for me, a simple gesture that had always made me felt cared for.

Who is she? I wondered. Clearly, he knows her, but to what extent? Is this just someone he helped out of their destroyed home earlier? Probably not, I reasoned. It's a small town, and I know just about everyone. And a hair tuck behind the ear seemed a little personal for someone he would have just met.

My mind spiraled further. Was she a new fling? That month's flavor? Or maybe she was something more serious - a girlfriend? The thought gnawed at me, a mix of curiosity and jealousy twisted in my gut. I looked away, trying to push the thoughts from my mind.

As I stepped out of the tent, the late evening air hit me. The devastation around me was immense, but the resilience of the people here was palpable. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the fact that I had survived and that I was safe, at least for now.

Later that night I sat in a hotel room. It was modest but clean, a temporary refuge arranged by the volunteers. They had set me up in a hotel the next town over, giving me a place to stay while I figured things out. The American Red Cross had provided me with a change of clean clothes and some toiletries, small comforts after the harrowing day I'd endured.

I stood under the hot spray of the shower, letting the water wash away the grime and stress of the day. The heat soothed my sore muscles, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to relax. But the relief was short-lived. My mind kept drifting back to Phoebe, my beloved cat, and the worry gnawed at me. Where was she? Was she safe?

After the shower, I dressed in the clean clothes provided, feeling somewhat refreshed but still weighed down by the enormity of my situation. I sat on the edge of the bed, the unfamiliar surroundings making everything feel more surreal.

How do I even begin to pick up the pieces of my life after something like this? I didn't have any family. My parents were gone and I was an only child. I suppose I could try to reach out to my aunts or uncles. See if they could provide any sort of help.

The loss of my home, the uncertainty of the future - it all felt overwhelming.

And then there was Tyler. I couldn't stop thinking about him and the blonde woman I'd seen him with at the first aid tent. The image of him tucking her hair behind her ear played on a loop in my mind. Who was she to him? Why did it matter so much to me?

I sighed, lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. Everything felt tangled and confused. The day's events had left me emotionally and physically drained, yet sleep seemed a distant possibility with my mind racing like this.

As I lay there, the worries and questions swirled around me. Phoebe, Tyler, the future - everything felt so uncertain. The only thing I knew for sure was that I had to keep going, one step at a time, and somehow had to find a way to start again.

Later that night, I lay in my hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything kept sleep at bay. The clock on the nightstand showed just after 10 PM, and I couldn't shake the thoughts swirling in my mind - Phoebe's whereabouts, the uncertainty of my future, and the lingering image of Tyler with the blonde woman.

A knock on the door interrupted my restless thoughts. I rolled out of bed, immediately assuming it was probably some kid running up and down the hallway, knocking on random doors. However, when I opened the door I was surprised to see Tyler standing there.

He held a cardboard box in his hands, and beside him on the ground was something I couldn't quite make out in the dim hallway light. I opened the door wider, curiosity piqued.

"Hey," Tyler said, his voice soft. "I've got something for you." I could see the grin forming on his face as he motioned to the thing on the ground beside him. Then a soft meow emerged from within.

"Phoebe!" I said excitedly as I knelt to look into the pet carrier.

"I found her," Tyler explained, setting the box down and opening the carrier. Phoebe stepped out cautiously, looking around the unfamiliar room before rubbing up against me. Relief washed over me as I scooped her up, holding her close.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice choked with emotion.

Tyler nodded, his eyes warm. "Someone found her and turned her into the animal tent. I claimed her after the veterinarians assured me she was okay.

He then gestured to the box. "I also managed to get a few things from your home before they declared it unsafe to enter. Just some photos and sentimental items I thought you might want. There wasn't a lot that I found, but it's better than nothing, right?"

Tears began to well up in my eyes, gratitude mixing with the sadness of everything I'd lost. One box. That's all that I had left of my life.

"And," Tyler continued. "I stopped by Walmart and got you a new litter box and food bowl for Phoebe. There's some food and litter in there too for you. Thought she might need them while you're here."

I couldn't find the words to express how much this meant to me. Tyler's kindness, his thoughtfulness - it was almost overwhelming. I managed a shaky smile, looking up at him. "Thank you, Tyler. Really."

He smiled back at me, his gaze softening. "It's the least I could do. I'm just glad you're both safe."

There was a short pause after he spoke. A moment of silence heavy with unspoken emotions. Tyler shifted slightly, breaking the stillness "I'm going to go get the cat supplies from my truck. I'll be right back."

Before he could move a woman's voice interrupted. "I have them."

I turned to see the blond woman from the first aid tent stopping in front of my door, holding the items Tyler had mentioned. I went to thank her, only to realize I didn't know her name.

"Thank you-" I began, hesitating.

"Kate," she replied with a warm smile. "I'm Kate."

"Thank you, Kate," I said sincerely, taking the supplies from her.

"No problem," she responded. She then turned to Tyler. "Javi and I are heading for the hotel for the night. Do you want us to wait in the car for you?"

Tyler thought for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I'll catch up with you later."

Kate nodded a hint of concern in her eyes. "Alright. Just don't stay up too late. There's another storm system rolling in north of here tomorrow. We'll want to get up early to start chasing."

So she was a storm chaser. I began to wonder if she was part of Tyler's crew or just someone he had come to know working in the field.

Kate left, and as the door closed behind her, I turned to Tyler, curiosity gnawing at me.

"She seems great," I said, trying to sound casual.

Tyler grinned, and I noticed a certain look in his eye. I knew that look. It was clear he had feelings for her, even if she wasn't his girlfriend. "Yeah, she's great," he said, his voice carrying a warmth that told me everything I needed to know.

He didn't offer any additional information, and I didn't ask. It wasn't my place, and there were more pressing matters to focus on. Still, a small pang of something - jealousy, maybe - twisted in my chest.

It then began to dawn on me. This would probably be the last time I saw Tyler. Tomorrow, he would go back to storm chasing and being a YouTube star with his one million fans. The realization stung, knowing that the brief reconnection we had was just that. Brief.

I turned back to Tyler, who was looking at me with a mix of emotions in his eyes. "Well, I should get going," he said softly.

I nodded, trying to muster a smile. "Thank you again, for everything. And good luck with that storm tomorrow."

Tyler hesitated, then reached out and gave your should a gentle squeeze. "Take care of yourself, Lex. And Phoebe too."

With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me standing there, the weight of everything pressing down on me once more. I closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed, Phoebe curling up next to me. As I stroked her fur, I couldn't help but feel a mix of gratitude and sadness. The future was uncertain, but at least for tonight, I had a roof over my head and my beloved cat by my side.

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87

[evita-shelby]

Ava

aka the what if Eva had a blonde evil twin?

cw: magic, demons, murder, some violence, Christianity

thanks @zablife for the idea

evacore taglist: @justrainandcoffee @thegreatdragonfruta @peakyswritings @vivianleighwishesshewasme

Once upon a time in a land far away ---in a mental state about two or three more drinks away from the sweet release of death--- Eva had not only gone blonde but fucked around with magic with equally high and drunk magical people and set loose her own reflection.

Ave, or better known by her new name, Ava Smith.

A demon of sorts who had taken the appearance of how Eva had looked when she said the words and produced her mirror image. No freckles, picture perfect looks and…a natural blonde.

Her twin.

And now Ava was here.

“Hello, sister.” She smiled with her dark pink lips dressed in, God help them, pastels.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a sister?” her husband asks observing her caution in welcoming the blonde woman who arrived at Arrow House’s front door.

“I don’t.”

They were the same person, even if Ava was merely the meatsuit of a demon or ghost, she can’t remember. The witch supposed this was why that thing was here instead in the ruins of the old temple they lured her in to kill her.

She explains as best as she can to her husband and his aunt who at least do believe in her magical abilities and all pretend Ava is truly her twin sister who is Eva’s complete opposite. So far so good. Only Polly knows she tried and failed to kill the demon, and only because she guessed correctly.

“You have a beautiful family.” Ava looks at it all with an ulterior motive and settled her greedy eyes on the family portrait. “I could’ve had one if you hadn’t treated me so badly.”

So this was it. Ava was here for revenge.

“Leave and I won’t try again.” The witch warns the demon eying everything Eva and Tommy built with their own hands.

“Oh, silly, you can’t kill an immortal.” The blonde laughed it off. “I’ll be out of your hair soon, don’t worry.”

It goes on for weeks, she doesn’t stay with her and stays in the hotel they have completely under their control. Ava lives like a lady of leisure does, fucks who she wants, shops till she drops and comes to visit like a sibling would.

Eva is not stupid enough to trust her, any second the demon would bare her fangs and they’ll be back at where they had ended in Mexico.

This time Eva will make sure she is truly dead.

And yet, Eva wakes up in a paralyzed body dressed in the same pink outfit the demon had worn at dinner and reeking of peroxide.

“When you try to kill me, make sure you finish the job, Evita.” The demon coos at her as she has the orderlies set her up in a guest room at Arrow House.

So this was what she was after, just like then, Ava wanted Eva’s life.

Ava who plays the part well, after all they were more or less the same person, and fools everyone into believing she is Eva.

“And the best part, Tommy doesn’t even suspect a damn thing.” Ava laughs as she reapplied her pink lipstick. “You have terrible style, so little color in your wardrobe. Even your lingerie is black.”

Days turn to weeks and only when Tommy and Polly finally come to visit her ---for the demon denied visits to keep her ruse going. Tommy is frantic, wearing a rosary when the man would rather set himself on fire than wear a crucifix.

It is hell, if she could talk Eva would scream, if she could move, she would kill the fucking demon with her bare hands. Her life she didn’t give a shit, her husband and child hurt like hell, but her style? That was unforgivable.

Polly carefully did all that a Welsh relative had instructed her to do and her first act is to slap her husband for falling for the demon’s bullshit. They had to have fucked, Tommy has the soul of a whore and cannot last much without sating his carnal desires.

“I didn’t fuck her! I knew she wasn’t you.” Tommy held his cheek and winced.

 “How?” Eva asks with a voice rusty from almost a month stuck inside her own mind.

“You never wear pink and even Alfie could probably smell the hair dye all the way in London.��  Her husband answered and Eva was rather touched that he knew she had been replaced. He took his sweet time rescuing her, but at least Eva knows he has not gotten his soul stolen through his cock.

“He knows you so well, I couldn’t piece it together until her roots began to show, thought he’d lost his fucking mind.” Polly chuckles as they help her out of the frilly pink nightgown and into Eva’s wonderful black outfit. “But don’t worry, sweetheart, Aunt Polly will be there to make sure we send it back to hell. Charlie is at Arthur’s, who knew Linda’s religion would be useful to us for once.”

“I need a gun.” Eva’s request surprised them, she has never liked the things, the sound alone took her back to the revolution that took everything from her and birthed the selfish and horrid creature they need to kill.

But close combat isn’t what she wants to do again, she barely survived the first time and wouldn’t the second time.

Tommy hesitates but gives her his gun. And with that, they set out to ambush the demon about to return home any second.

“I am home!” Ava greets the household with a smile, a garish pink dress and a fresh retouch to hide her blonde roots only to be greeted by Eva emptying all six rounds of Tommy’s revolver into her pretty head.

Gross and loud, but extremely necessary.

“Oh, that explains how she managed to make a good husband out of you.” Polly comments as Eva for good measure kicks the demon to make sure she is as dead as they need her to be.

“I didn’t even know she could do that.” Tommy admits as they help her get rid of the body by carefully wrapping her in the rug Ava died in.

They are to burn it, to have a priest say the incantations ---no need for a catholic one, so long as they were Christian it worked well enough--- and never speak of this again.

If suddenly all the new pastel-colored things were returned or destroyed by the mistress of the house, no one dared to ask why. It was not out of place for Mrs. Shelby to do something that odd, odd had been seeing her parade around in pink, if you asked all who knew her.

“Can you believe her? She said I had shitty style!” Eva tells her husband who after a month of abstinence was feeling like he too would die a horrible death in the foyer. He had learned a lesson, one that will stick around and resurface whenever a person looks at him with desire or sees the rosary his witch bound his wrists with for some of their usual games. “All else I can forgive, but that was the cruelest thing anyone has ever done to me!”

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Uncanny Valley: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Summary: Therapy isn't something you're taking too well, but if you want to keep your job, you'll continue to go. you're forced to confront thoughts and memories of your own family when you come across the father of the unsub.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

If drugs are being used, then a doctor might know something about it that the team won't. Rossi calls in a doctor who is around all different types of drugs to get a professional opinion on the case.

"So, doctor, if a diabetic were given this battery of drugs to keep her paralyzed, what would the reaction be?"

"Diabetics metabolize everything they consume differently which includes drugs. It all gets broken down to blood sugar at varying rates. Most likely, this patient seized up minutes after she was medicated."

"You're saying she's already dead?"

"Probably. Although, there is another possibility. Bethany's condition could break down the drugs faster than the other victims. She might regain control of her body. Every hour that she doesn't turn up is a reason for hope."

"We're still running out of time. If the drugs don't kill Bethany, she's not gonna last long without insulin."

You and Spencer take it upon yourself to talk to a collector to try and get into the mindset of someone like the unsub. There is a store in town that is owned by a collector who likes to sell some of his things and give them to other people who are collecting the same things he is. Spencer breaks down the situation you're in without giving too much information away. He's still a civilian who doesn't need to know police business.

"Look, collectors are good, honest people. Just because you enjoy dolls doesn't make you a freak or a pedophile."

"We appreciate that sir, but the woman that we're looking for has lost her ability to control her obsession. She's killed three women trying to recreate a type of doll she had a child."

"Describe the line to me."

"There's a pattern to the victims. They're all in their twenties and petite."

"Most doll lines revolve around infants. Is she dressing them like babies?"

"No, she's not." Spencer looks at you to see you studying the things he has in his store. You're not touching anything but you are fiddling with your fingers as you look. "Their wardrobe consists of chiffon dresses worn by one blond woman, a redhead, and a black woman."

"Is she sewing the dresses herself?"

"How did you know that?"

The store owner goes around the counter and takes out a big book of dolls. He flips through the pages to the ones he thinks are the ones the unsub is trying to recreate.

"It's the Valois line. They were a local company back in the late eighties. They promoted feminism and multiculturalism. Strong, independent girls from different backgrounds who could still be friends."

"Y/N, check this out." You walk over to Spencer and study the contents of the book. "Each doll has a birth certificate to fill out, a form to describe their lives, and a kit to sew your own clothes."

"JJ said she's been at this for a while. She's probably been sewing since she was a little kid."

"Wait a minute. Sir, what's this contest that they held?" Spencer asks when he sees an ad in the book.

"That was to see who could come up with the most imaginative doll. Sew a dress and write an essay to describe her. If you won the contest, you'd have your doll featured in next year's line."

"That didn't end well, did it?"

"No."

"It's a classic tool child psychologists use. Tell me a story with these dolls sort of way."

"When the company got essays with thinly veiled references to physical or sexual abuse, they turned the entry forms and the dolls over to the police. The publicity killed the line."

"You said the company was local, right? They might still have the clothes in evidence."

The detective was able to get the dolls that were in evidence once you asked him to. By the time you got back to the station, Derek was reading some of the essays while JJ and Emily were inspecting the dolls. You used to have a doll like that when you were a child. Your dad gave you one to dress up with doll clothes. You didn't have the skill to sew and it's not like your parents were gonna do that for you.

You grab one of the dolls and think back to your childhood. You got a lot of dolls, in fact.

"How are the essays going?" Spencer asks Derek.

"It makes for some pretty depressing reading. Prentiss is having a good time."

"Hey, these dolls are like little time capsules only eighties fashion wasn't so kind to them. I'm surprised how many little girls knew how to make shoulder pads. How's it going on your end, JJ?"

"I got a list of vendors the victims went to--tailors and seamstresses, that sort of thing."

"JJ, you said something about a handkerchief hem, right?" Emily asks.

Emily shows her the hem on some of the clothes on the dolls.

"That's exactly like what she sews for her victims."

"What's the name on the entry?"

"Samantha Malcolm."

"She's on my list," JJ says.

"Wait a minute, guys. I have her essay around here somewhere." He looks for it. "Right here. 'Sally doesn't like the room with the lightning.' That can't be good."

You take out your phone and call Penelope to get information on Samatha.

"Okay guys, I just got Samantha's medical records. Oh, my god, she was doomed. Like Emily Bronte doomed, like Shakespeare doomed."

"What happened to her?" Hotch asks.

"Right. For the first ten years, nothing. Then, she starts a battery of electroshock treatments."

"At ten? Who subjects a child to ECT?" Spencer wonders.

"That would be her father, Dr. Arthur Malcolm. He runs an inpatient mental health facility for troubled young people called New Lives. At first, the essay that Samantha wrote raised some flags, but her father explained that the therapy was to deal with the recent death of her mother. After that, he started her on a serious regimen of anti-psychotic drugs which he weaned her off of a few years ago."

"It explains her familiarity with medication. Where is she now?"

"Her father declared her incompetent so he's still the legal guardian. Everything is in his name, and all of her records list New Lives as her residence."

"She can't keep victims in an inpatient facility. She needs privacy. Garcia, what about real estate holdings in her father's name?"

"Just his own, but New Lives has a bunch of outpatient and halfway houses all over town."

"JJ, where does she work?"

She checks her list. "I have her placed at three different shops around town."

"Alright, let's split up and cover the shops and the facility."

"I want to go to New Lives," Spencer says. "Whether or not she's there, I want to talk to the father. There are literally hundreds of therapies to help kids through loss. Electroshock is not one of them."

"Take Rossi and Y/N," Hotch says.

Rossi drives both of you to Arthur's facility that's right smack dab in the middle of town. You step out of the car and feel the sense that someone is watching you. You look around and know Samantha is out there. She's close whether on purpose or just passing through.

"What is it?" Spencer asks.

"She's here. I feel her. I can't find her, though."

There are too many people walking around that her energy mixes with everyone else's. Rossi takes you two inside and gets approval to talk to Dr. Malcolm. The second you see the doctor, you freeze in your steps. He becomes blurry through your tears but neither Rossi nor Spencer notice you. Rossi begins explaining the situation briefly but you can't hear the words coming out of his mouth.

"I am very confused, gentlemen. What does this have to do with Samantha?"

"We need to talk to her. Is she here?"

"No, she's at work."

"Does she live here or did you move her into one of your halfway houses?"

"As a matter of fact, she is in one of my houses."

"We'll need the address."

"I need to know what this is about."

"She might be tied to a series of abductions."

"That's not possible. It's not my daughter," Dr. Malcolm shakes his head.

"Is Samantha on her own at this house? There are no other patients, right?"

"She thought that was best and I agreed."

Rossi looks back at Spencer and notices the painful look on your face.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

Spencer turns to look at you and grabs your hand to which you squeeze. The feeling and energy you're getting from Dr. Malcolm is the same one you got from your rapist. It's similar to the same feeling you've been getting with your dad recently, but you're not going to open that door.

"I know a child molester when I see one."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You subjected Samantha to electroshock therapy when she was ten. The effects of that would be permanent, especially at that age but you knew that, didn't you?"

"My wife died when Samantha was ten and she never recovered. I tried everything. Child psychiatry and pet therapy. Nothing helped. She was cutting herself. She was in pain. But I want to go back to the part where you're accusing me of being a child molester."

"Really? Okay. I noticed you have toys in your office. Why are they here?"

"I use them in my therapy."

"I understand that, but why are they on the top shelf away from where any kids can reach them?"

"They're reminders of patients that I've helped."

"Okay." You grab one of the toys from the shelf. "What was the name of the girl you helped with this one?"

"Jenny Larson."

You grab another one. "This one? What was the name of the girl you helped with this one?"

"Abigail Moore."

"How about this one?"

"Linda Krauss."

"I'm assuming these girls are nine or twelve, right?"

"My PhDs are on the effect of trauma on prepubescent girls. I do not appreciate what you're implying," he glares.

"I'm not implying anything. I'm making an inference. An inference is an educated guess, and based on that, I form a hypothesis. For instance, my hypothesis here is that after you raped your daughter, you submitted her to electroshock treatment to make sure she stayed quiet."

"This is outrageous!"

"Then, out of guilt, you bought her toys. More specifically, you bought her a line of dolls. Because that's what serial molesters do. They give gifts. So, you continued the pattern with your other patients and once they left your care, you added their toys to your collection."

You pause to think about your own situation. Your father gave you a bunch of toys to keep you happy. Maybe there is no correlation and you're reading into but you'd rather not think of your own father in that light.

"I'm sorry, you can't back up your story, Agent."

"This is why I love my job, doctor," you laugh. "The jury is your peers and the witnesses will be Jenny, Abagail, and Linda. The DA will put them on the stand and I'm going to personally bring these dolls in. We'll watch how they react." You start to raise your voice and slam your hand on his desk which scares him. "Not to mention your goddamn energy painting a not-so-pretty picture of you fucking these girls!"

Spencer pulls you back to help calm you down and Rossi steps in to take over.

"Or you could tell us where your daughter is, and we'll tell the DA you cooperated. Once we walk out this door, that deal comes off the table."

You turn to leave the room and Dr. Malcolm says something right before Spencer can leave.

"2529 Adams Street. You'll tell them, right? That I cooperated?"

"Where are the other toys? The collection isn't complete," you glare.

Dr. Malcolm has no choice but to give them up. He gives you the dolls he took from his daughter, the ones that made her start kidnapping in the first place. Rossi informs the rest of the team where to go, but Spencer thinks it's best if he goes in first. Samantha is mentally unstable so she needs to be approached delicately and carefully.

Spencer goes in knowing he can talk her down while you go in so you can help the girls she's taken.

"Samantha?" She is in the middle of taking care of her victims and she gasps when she hears Spencer's voice. As he is talking to her, you have your gun out and trained on her. "My name is Spencer and this is Y/N. We're with the FBI. I know what your father did to you, and I want you to know that he can never, ever hurt you again."

"He never touched me," she shakes her head. "He's a good father. He loves me."

You say the same thing about your father.

"I know that he probably forced you to say those things. He'd punish you if you got it wrong and send you to the room with the lightning."

"Yeah," she nods.

"The dolls that your father gave you after he hurt you, what would happen to them?"

"He kept them in his office with the other toys, but when I moved out, I had to take my friends with me. I couldn't leave them behind."

As he keeps her talking, you slowly move to the right to get closer to the girls who are begging you with their eyes.

"Of course. When you went to get them, what did you find? He gave them to another girl, didn't he?" She nods emotionally. "Do you want them back?"

"He said I couldn't. He said they were gone for good."

"He lied. He's been lying to you for a long time. Do you want to see them?"

"Can I?"

"Yeah." Spencer reveals he has the box of dolls and she immediately goes over to him. This is when you put your gun away and tend to the girls. "Do you want to play with them?

"Don't worry, you girls are safe," you say.

You take out each IV tube from each of the girl's arms. If they could cry, they would. Bethany is the one with diabetes so she is able to move a lot more. The drugs Samantha gave her wore of quickly.

"Thank you," she whispers.

"It's clear. We need medical in here," Spencer says into his earpiece. When the team comes into the house, Samantha panics that she isn't going to see her dolls again. "Hey, Samantha? You need to go with these men but your friends can go with you, okay?"

"They won't take them away?"

"I promise no one will ever take them away again."

She is taken away but she is happy because of her dolls.

"Well done, Agent Reid."

"Thanks."

Rossi goes over to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder for comfort.

"Are you okay?"

"No," you whisper painfully.

Another job well done. Another successful case. It doesn't feel that way. It feels like the world is caving in on you and you can't get to safety. You dread going to sleep but you know you have to at least try. Maybe this time you won't have another nightmare. That's the hope, right?

You're back here again. You're back in the same nightmare. The same car is on the side of the road where you're walking. Someone grabs you from behind. Who is it? It doesn't matter. You scream out for help. You kick and fight to get away. It's no use. Whoever grabbed you has a tight hold on you.

Help! Someone help! Anyone! No one is coming to help you. You're all alone. Spencer stands on the other side of the street just watching. Help! Spencer, please! He doesn't do anything but stands there watching you get dragged into the car.

Spencer!

"Y/N, wake up. You're having a nightmare."

You gasp awake and look around the room to make sure you're not actually inside that car. You're covered in sweat and tears.

"Spencer?"

"I'm right here. You're okay."

"No, I'm not," you sob. You turn over in his arms and cry into his chest. "Please make this stop."

Spencer is heartbroken for you. He doesn't know how to help and it's killing him.

"In life, unlike chess, the game continues after checkmate." - Isaac Asimov

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[jamitron2000]

Demon Gowther headcanons because he's literally the best (trust) and there's not enough canon or general content about him!! (featuring Glariza and merlins dad here and there)

He loves cats, absolutely adores them. before he was goatdad he was catdad. Glariza thinks it's the sweetest thing ever seeing her husband (or bf at the time) at the front door most mornings feeding strays

childhood friends with the chief of Belialuin (merlins dad). they were forced apart because of the war and eventually stopped thinking of eachother, having to worry more and more about their own families as the war got more serious.

when gowther started mentoring merlin, they saw eachother again. after that they didn't lose contact again.

he couldn't attend merlins dad's funeral since he was already locked up at that point.

fell in love with Glariza the second he layed eyes on her.

"Mate, look at her. look look look look look."

"Who am I supposed to be looking at, gowther?"

"the pretty one"

"... her? the one that looks like she's a porcelain doll?"

"oh don't be foolish, no one could ever recreate that beauty."

"right."

...

"can you talk to her for me, please"

"do it yourself loverboy."

this mans a poet and romantic, through and through. you can not change my mind

got mistaked for a butch lesbian before growing out his facial hair

loves taking baths whilst fully clothed. he has fallen asleep. Glariza is mildly concerned but leaves him be.

he lives by "happy wife happy life"

Him and Glariza were basically Merlin's second parents when she was growing up, but when she reached her teenage years, he started mentoring her and a bunch of stuff happened (including Glariza's death) she grew distant and started seeing him purely as her teacher

Bisexual. so is Glariza. Bi wife and Bi husband

Does not like cheese. cannot stand the smell of it either. Will gag.

used to drink but stopped completly a year or two into his marriage.

The fastest menace before he got wheelchair bound. could not stay still for more than a minute. tosses and turns constantly in his sleep.

deaf in one ear beacuse of an experiment going wrong and a very very loud explosion going off right next to his left ear

used to read loads but went into a reading slump at one point and never really came out of it.

His parents pride and joy, but they died when he was really young.

Loves it when people play with his hair. merlin's dad used to do it all the time when they were kids, he'd take two strands and twist them together because he didn't know how to braid.

really wanted to be father. Glariza was 3 months pregnant when mael killed her.

had an emo phase. like a proper proper one. dyed a part of his hair black so he had a blonde baliage and a bunch of piercings (he kept all his ear piercings and eyebrow piercing)

very loud and had little to no volume control. learnt how to control it whilst locked up.

talked to himself whilst imprisoned, but acted like he was talking to glariza and the kid he never got to have.

whilst making the doll gowther, he modeled him after glariza, but changed a couple things. made his hair brighter and longer, his eyes greener and gave him glasses. this was so he could also resemble what him and Glariza's child could have looked like if they had taken after their mother.

does not sneeze, just shakes in place like an old washing machine.

he was also quite close friends with Meliodas and zeldris' mother, and was there for most of Meliodas' childhood (he taught him how to cook because His mother was too busy and the demon king is not about to be any kind of maternal figure)

he's very creative and loves to make things, mainly items of clothing. he handmade Glariza's wedding dress

That's all for now, might update if I get any more ideas

[feyd-meowtha]

Hi hopr you don't mind me just busting in with zero small talk, but Please can you throw me all your Feyd-Rautha headcanons, I need juice for my Feydpaul fixation ❤❤❤ (also Hi! nice to uhh know you sorry for the awkwardness i developed as a lonely child in school)

I do not mind in the slightest! Hello! I've never been much for small talk anyway so this suits me just fine.

This is actually a little difficult for me because while I obviously do form headcanons, I write fic after all, i'm not very good at conjuring them up out of context. However I will do my best to supply you with what you need. These are mostly based on the book but a little influenced by the various adaptations and defo by that one Moebius illustration (you know the one).

Here we go!

He was born on Lankiveil and only briefly lived with his brother before he left to go to Geidi Prime.

He had a happy childhood with his parents who loved him a great deal

Their house on Lankiveil was big enough but not as large as you would expect from his father's status of count. They didn't have servants and took care of the place on their own at the request of his mother Emmi who was a Lankiveil native and found it ridiculous that the high born didn't do anything for themselves.

His mother wasn't a Bene Gesserit herself but did have some connection to the order, maybe through the other female members of her family who kept an eye on Feyd and fed back to the missionaria

Abulard (his father) was blonde so Feyd got his dark (i hc aubern) curly hair from his mother. He also has her eyes.

His mother/father liked to play music and they had musical instruments in the home when he was young. He loved to sit and listen to them, but he hasn't touched an instrument since he was brought to Geidi Prime.

He was taken by his uncle when he was quite young (between 8 and 12) and either his mother was killed at his uncle's orders (and abulard killed by rabban) when this happened OR he was taken away and Emmi kept imprisoned, then either through manipulation or force his uncle made him kill her at a later time. I am staunchly anti the idea that he killed her of his own volition.

He was popular with the court though always treated with some suspicion as both an off-worlder

The Harkonnens in my 'standard' hc are much more in line with the book and sci-fi channel presentations where there is a certain touch of campiness to them and Feyd thusly dresses pretty effeminately and has long hair p similar to the Moebius drawing. (The Harkonnens in APTIUT are p different to this of course)

The Harkonnens speak Galach but most people on Geidi Prime speak Geidi which is relatively close to Lenkiveili which is Feyd's first language. AS a result he speaks very good Geidi, unlike his uncle and brother who barely speak any, seeing it as common and beneath them to learn the language of their people.

I think that his capacity for casual cruelty is something that he learned while on Geidi Prime and not something innate or that he grew up with. As far as he sees it, this is the only way to survive and those who oppose him deserve what they get. He has a very 'me against the world' attitude thanks to the deaths of his parents and everything he's lost. He is suspicious of everyone and makes a point of not getting close to people for fear of getting hurt.

related to that, contrary to what the recent films said, he has no interest in honour and is totally happy to lie, cheat and swindle his way into what he wants. He is a cheater through and through and not afraid to admit it. As he sees it, is his opponent is stupid enough not to cheat too, then they deserve to lose.

He is very particular about his diet and training regimen, partially because once he got old enough they became a few of the things in his life that he could actually control. He is paranoid about his figure thanks to a fear of becoming greedy and fat like his uncle, who he detests. As a result of this some of this his eating is rigid almost to the point of being disordered.

He is equally particular about his physical appearance, knowing that his looks are one of his greatest weapons and liking how they set him apart from his brother and uncle.

Where he is a little more indulgent is in alcohol and drugs which are plentiful on Geidi Prime and which he uses as an escape from the worst parts of his life.

I also am anti the 'kills people at random' aspect of the movie portrayal. I think that while he gets off on violence, he would see that kind of behaviour as stupid and indulgent. He intends to position himself as the 'better harkonnen' to the landsraad and people so that random violence wouldn't fit with his plans at all.

he has been very interested in Paul and all of the Atreides since he first heard about it and listened to all stories of him that he could find with keen interest.

He loves games, especially those that involve an element of bluffing.

He likes to gamble.

Ok I think i'm gonna call it a day there, I hope that's okay and you enjoyed my very disorganised mess of thoughts!

Thanks so much for stopping by <3

[emmatgc]

Tommy's Secret

Thomas Michael Shelby

A War hero.

He used to smile, a lot.

He likes to work with horses.

He fell in love with Greta.

He watched her die.

He got PTSD.

He never came back from the war.

Nobody did.

He became the lead gangster boss.

A cold blooded killer.

A charming racketeer.

A Manwhore.

He loves his family but decides for them, too.

Controlling, manipulative , egoistical and highly ambitious.

He is the "robinhood" mobster kind.

He is their bad guy.

He demands loyalty from everybody

but not himself.

He is too wounded. Too damaged.

But kept on going for the family

Just waiting till somebody finally ends him.

But nobody did. Fate has other plans.

Much crueler than death.

Fate decided, Tommy should live again.

Lived he did through a woman named, Grace.

A copper came to town with a mission.

An agent of the crown.

An undercover spy in silk

Full of revenge and duty

For herself and her country.

She got him at his "Hello".

Instantly smitten and besotted

So intrigued and bewildered.

Who the f*ck is she?

1st time since Greta, he fell in love again.

But this time, with a sworn enemy.

How could he?

Tommy tried to hide and denied it

He tried to play her as a jerk he was with Kimber

But he changed his mind

Confused and scared of what it all means to him

A blonde barmaid who sings.

Tommy says no a lot but he says yes to almost everything Grace.

The boy I love, she sings.

Secretly, hoping he is that boy up in the gallery.

Little by little, he researched on her

Slowly but surely, he cant help but think about her

Why is she here?

Ref flags not green flags

Is Tommy that stupid?

He answers for her even if he was the one who asks those questions

There were doubts but it remained as is

He was already blinded, falling hard

Like a choo choo train, it cant be stopped.

He was nearly killed but she saved him, twice.

One at the bar and the other, at her apartment.

They have seen each other.

Flawed, imperfect and the same.

She was a snitch alright, but she, too changed her mind.

She tried to cut and sew the loose ends

But Campbell was a bigger jerk.

Tommy as smart as he was was blinded by love.

Ask Polly, she knows.

Grace packed her bags

But he needed to see her.

He wasn't angry. He got betrayed but he still wants to see her alright.

She confessed again and he tossed a coin and chose to walk away.

He needed a reason to stay.

He chose his family.

He doesn't deserve her, he knows

She was his soldiers minute but

He continued being Tommy.

Two years past and he hasn't moved on from her.

Again, ask Polly, for she knows.

Too wounded. Too hurt.

Too proud to return any letters or write them back

Yet never once said he said to stop.

Slept with May, Lizzie and others

but in the instant she is back in their homeland

He called and got jealous of the man at the other line.

See, Tommy's secret is not his business nor his family.

It was and will always be Grace.

Grace's secret is Tommy's secret.

Like his favorite horse he caress and loves dearly, it is a homage to her.

He is keeping her secrets

Nobody dares should ask for he wont tell.

He doesn't tell people things, he tells her

In short, he is protecting her all this time.

Grace came back.

A second chance was given.

They had a reunion.

One that showed his vulnerability and unconditional love.

By all means, he should be angry at her.

She is now married.

But it was him who let her go.

He hated her ring but at the same time

brought her to Charlie Chaplin to impress her.

It did more than that.

He became the father to her child just as he thought he would from the 1st night they made love.

A future full of promises, change and redemption.

Finally, he admits defeat.

She wins, always.

Tommy who is always in control couldn't control Grace.

He loves her so much

But there's too much sins to pay even before she came

Tommy who was ready to die at the Derby races

Became so breathless upon hearing "i love you not him"

There is a woman, true.

A woman he deeply loves.

What he lacked was time.

She paid for his sins.

Tragic and painful

Shortlived for her

Eternal suffering for Tommy.

Fate crueler than death.

He got close.

Nearly got f*cking everything.

All he wanted was to dance with her

Now, every night he is dancing with her ghost.

He killed her

She killed him, too.

He is no longer living a life rather just barely living in the land of the living.

Happy or sad, Thomas?

He wants to join her.

Another secret.

[eryingsfate]

Ichiby H-e-double-hockey sticks

Now that i have been informed of this ship and read a whole ao3 fic (LITERALLY THE ONLY ONE) on it, i have become obsessed and hyper fixated... SO heres a prompt/story idea for any writers out there! (pls write ichiby content im literally dying)

amnesia au!

Sometime after the battle with Big Mom, or even later in the series, a mission involving Ichiji goes wrong and he ends up knocked out and is left drifting on the sea. He washes up on the shore of a small island and the only thing he remembers is his first name. He's sitting on the beach in a daze when Koby finds him.

Koby was stationed on a small, warm island that has been a victim of numerous pirate attacks. He had a small squadron with him in case the pirates were to come back. (Really it was a forced vacation because he's supposed to be stuck there for a month.) He was walking along the beach when he saw Ichiji, instantly recognizing the curled eyebrows, striking red hair, and germa attire. Koby instantly went on guard as he approached Ichiji and after a small interaction it became very clear that Ichiji had no idea where, or even WHO, he was. Koby decided to take advantage of this and see if he can find out anything about the germa modifications. As time goes on it becomes clear that something about Ichiji was different. Koby heard the stories of the infamous Germa prince, about how he was emotionless and held no sympathy whatsoever. How he was modified to be the perfect soldier, but Ichiji seemed to show any emotion like it was the first time he'd ever even felt. Koby began theorizing on what happened and came to the conclusion that whatever happened before he found Ichiji had messed with his modifications and given him his emotions back. Koby then realized he could try and help Ichiji and maybe even redeem him.

Meanwhile everything felt so foreign to Ichiji, everything he saw came with a feeling and it was driving him mad because a part of him was screaming that it was wrong. When Ichiji looked at the ocean, he felt his mind calm and blue hair appeared in his mind. When he looked at the green leaves of the trees he felt protective as green hair flashed in head. He looked at the pink flowers and felt a deep respect. He saw the sun and felt his heart twist. Ichiji didn't understand it at all.

Koby decides to start his idea with taking Ichiji to see the townspeople, since he doesn't remember anything he shouldn't try anything against them. The marine believed the best way to start helping Ichiji understand emotions was to let him see how other people interacted. It was all going well until one of Koby's men came up to him and reported that a little girl had gone missing. An island-wide search began.

As Ichiji follows Koby around the island, looking for a little girl named 'Miriam,' he feels concern run deep into his bones, it makes him want to run and scream the girl's name but he refrains from doing so. Ichiji sees a flash of yellow run behind a tall tree, and he stops Koby and shushes the pink haired man. Ichiji carefully steps around the tree and sees a little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes looking at him. She's obviously scared. Ichiji just crouches down and looks at her, he doesn't know why he does it, he just does. Koby watches on, ready to intervene at any moment. The little girl goes running into Ichiji's arms and she hugs him. Ichiji freezes and doesn't know how to respond, so he looks at Koby, who has a soft smile on his face, and it's a look that warms the red haired man's heart. It's revealed that Miriam's father had been upset with Miriam's poor performance in school and he had hit her. All he can think of is how disgusting the man was for punishing a child for something almost completely out of their control. As Ichiji hears this he sees a scene passing through his mind, of a blonde boy who looks similar to him begging for his father to help him as he's beat into the ground. As the memory(?) fades, Ichiji feels that gut wrenching guilt come back and it's even worse this time.

Miriam ends up having to go home with Koby and Ichiji as an emergency placement while Koby's men and some older townspeople contact her mother. It wasn't ideal, but Miriam didn't want to be away from the men who saved her. Once Miriam is safely tucked into one of the guest beds, Ichiji and Koby sit and talk about the days events and Ichiji reluctantly opens up about the things he felt and saw throughout the day.

Koby is shocked that his theory was right and that there was a chance to possibly help Ichiji. With his mind made up, Koby decides that before he leaves this island, he's going to help Ichiji Vinsmoke become a better person and help him see the error in his ways.

Throughout the story we see Koby teach Ichiji about different emotions and ways to deal with them. Ichiji ends up growing close with Miriam, whose smile reminds him of a woman he once saw. One day, Ichiji is sitting on the couch of the house reading a book when his head begins pounding and floods of memories come rushing back, each accompanied by strong emotions. He feels himself flooded with guilt over the blood he's spilled and the abuse he forced on his brother. Once Ichiji comes back to, he sees Koby fretting over him. He doesn't fully register that he's awake until Koby brushes his hand over Ichiji's forehead, which causes the man's stomach to erupt into butterflies.

Koby and Miriam heard a yell and ran into the living room to see Ichiji passed out on the couch with a pained expression stuck on his face. Once Ichiji wakes up about thirty minutes later, Koby can tell something changed by the haunted look in Ichiji's eyes. Nonetheless he takes care of Ichiji throughout the rest of the day until Miriam is tucked into bed, which is when Koby confronts him.

Ichiji had spent most the day agonizing over his past actions and wondering how the hell he was going to go home like this.

"You remember."

"I do."

Koby sits there and waits for Ichiji to do something. Ichiji on the other hand is questioning if he even wants to go back to Germa. For the past 2 weeks, his home had become the pink haired marine and the blonde little girl, how could he leave when looking at Koby brought him so much peace and taking care of Miriam made him feel like he had a real purpose? Ichiji Vinsmoke was a prince, a warrior, a killer, and a true monster. But Ichiji? The man who lived with Koby and Miriam, who was known to be helpful to the townspeople? He was a friend, a father figure, a lover, a person with emotions. He couldn't just leave Miriam and Koby, they had shown him how to love and to what it was like to be loved. He didn't even realize till this point, the defining moment, that he had fallen in love with man who decided he deserved a chance to be someone else, rather then throwing Ichiji into a cell for the rest of his life. Yet at the same time, Ichiji was also a brother and the heir to a kingdom. He had responsibilities and people to take care of. In that moment, Ichiji knew he had to make a decision. He could go back to being being a prince who killed without ever showing mercy, or he could stay and build a true family. Once he really thought about it, Ichiji knew what he wanted. He wanted a home, where could be Ichiji. Not Prince Ichiji Vinsmoke, not an assassin, but just Ichiji.

"Well? What are you going to do, Vinsmoke?"

Koby was on edge, now that everything was out and Ichiji has his memories back, he could easily turn on the entire town. Koby had tried to help Ichiji without his consent and who knows how the red haired man would react? Koby had spent all this time forgetting who this man truly was. Koby had ended up forgetting that Ichiji was a prince of Germa and instead found someone he was falling in love with. How stupid could he be?! Ichiji Vinsmoke was a dangerous assassin who could easily defeat and entire army by himself, and if Koby wasn't careful, he would take Miriam's life alongside his own. Koby had seem Ichiji go from someone dangerous, to someone who needed help, then to someone who he loved. And in this moment, Koby's own fate rested on Ichiji's decision.

"Don't look at me like that Ko"

Don't call me that, Please don't break my heart

"What game are you playing Vinsmoke?"

Please, I haven't changed

"And please don't call me that either, that's not my name."

"...What?"

The world seemed to come to a halt. Something had hardened in Ichiji's eyes, as if he made a decision.

"I am not a Vinsmoke, not anymore. You're the one who decided and taught me that."

Thank you

"I didn't decide nor did I teach you that. I saw someone who was forced into a horrible lifestyle and saw a chance to help, so I did, because that is what i do. You didn't have a choice. I heard the story after Whole Cake Island and when everything came out. Your 'father' decided your life was worth less and turned you into a lab rat, and you never got a chance to decide how you felt about it because you were only a child and that man stole your humanity in the form of your emotions. You only did what you were taught because no one ever thought to teach you better. You thought yourself higher than everyone else because that is what you were taught and told to believe. No one in this world is born truly evil, many turn to the wrong side because no one helped them and it was a means to an end, or perhaps they lost their way because no one was there to help them. When i saw you that day I saw someone who was given a second chance by the world, and I chose to help you because I wanted to. Now you will decide what to do with that chance, Ichiji."

Everything was silent as Koby awaited Ichiji's answer.

"Thank you. I choose to stay here with you and Miriam."

Koby's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he smiled. He felt his heart beat faster at the smile he received in return. Koby felt his heart stop as Ichiji pulled him closer and rested his forehead against Koby's.

"Please, I want to become a good older brother and i want to apologize to Sanji and be able to help fix the others. I don't want to go back to being father's puppet."

"I'll help you every step of the way."

For a moment, the two just stayed in that position salty tears dripping onto the couch, and their breath mingling. The two came closer until a creak was heard in the hallway. The two looked at eachother with the silent agreement to talk about that later, but first, they had to tend to Miriam.

Thats all folks! If anyone wants me to ill write more of this au later! Now i didn't even know this ship was a thing till two days ago (You two know who you are) and i found it thru someone i follow! I hope ya'll enjoyed my silly lil story!

[insomanic-fanfication]

🍃🌹The Tower XVI: Bruce Wayne x Male Reader 🌹🍃

The request:'I was wondering if you'd be intrested in a request where either Bruce or Jason fall for Joker's son. Being raised by Joker would be a terrifying childhood. Maybe they do something unexpected like save one of the batfam from an explosion by controlling the flames, a last second decision that gets them hurt instead but makes Joker mad enough to state/imply his son will be punished later?' - @xweirdo101x

CW: Child abuse, normal Gotham violence, Joker being comic Joker, drug abuse (Reader), Mention Abuse, mention of wounds and blood, Unhealthy/ toxic relationship (Bruce x Reader).

Viewers discretion is advised: this is a very heavy fanfication, only read it when you are in the right headspace too. Do not report: don't like, don't read. These type of fanfics can help some people cope with truama. Dead Dove Do Not Eat!

------Fanfic is under the cut------

You weren't actually Joker's son, you were an Asylum baby, meaning you were born in the Asylum from one of the patients. While living in Arkham Asylum, at some point after the events of Jason's torture. Harley still wanted to be a mother figure, hence why everyone calls you the son of Joker.

They made you into their little plaything, forcing you to playhouse with them. You were a god damn adult and yet here you were sitting at a table made of rotting wood with two pieces of insufferable trash. The fake blonde holding your head to her chest while, her "puddn'" tells the events of the day. The action would have been comforting, it would be, if it was a welcomed touch. It wasn't, but at this point you knew, it didn't matter what you wanted.

They had you wear a painted and chipped clown mask to hide your face, you wouldn't complain about this. it's something you can control, of who can know your Identity, your true self. At least they allowed you to paint it how you wanted.

Bandages were another staple of your body. They protected all of the cuts and bruises that were inflicted on you, along with that protection they were sobering reminders of your life. When you did something wrong, Joker would torture you similarly to how he did with Jason, each time you felt more of yourself slipping away. Leaving in it's absents, a sense of hopelessness.

Your screams echoing from the walls, that chased the sounds of bones cracking. The man, your punisher, lecturing you on how, it's your own fault for him causing pain, because you were bad. To remind you that you will always get hit, by the ones who don't get the joke. 'What joke is there?..'.

It was Nightwing that first found you during one of your benders. You were laying on the floor dazed staring at the ceiling, mistaken for dead, if it wasn't for your weak breathing. Syringes with similar greenish residue scattered around the room, a liquid version of the gaseous fear toxin? Your bandages barely wrapped anymore and many of your scabbed wounds and healed cuts visible. Some as new as yesterday and others older than years. Blood dripping on to the floor from the newer wounds, the colour showing you were alive, at least physically.

All you, yourself could register within sensory, was the illusioned world your own mind created with the help of your only true friend. The walls moving like startled bugs, while the floor was trying to swallow you whole. Your head feeling full of cotton. It's hard to feel scared, when this world was better than your own. It's so peaceful, so blissful. You felt water leaking from your eyes, slowly.

Nightwing had no idea how to handle this situation, he has dealt with drug addicts a couple of times. During his career at the Gotham Police Department, though it was always the paramedics that took care of them. The sickening dread growing in volume as his senses take in the room. After some thinking, he comm 'ed for Batman to come to his location, after he left the room, you were in, to wait in the living room of the rundown house.

He didn't want to walk too far away, but he also knew if he wanted to keep himself to together, he had to step back. He thought about talking to Jason first, but snice you were in contact with Joker. Decided against it, as it may end up with a fight or screaming match. Either way, it would make it worse not better.

When Batman arrived at the crumbling tome of the house you stayed in, Nightwing gave him the rundown. He had been looking into reports he found about odd activity around the area. When he saw you enter this building, he decided to wait to see if others would show up. No one did, so he went to investigate, only finding you in a drug altered state barely knowing what's happening outside of the drug trip.

'Have you checked for a pulse yet?', the detective masked tone didn't go unnoticed to Nightwing, 'Uh, no, I haven't. I was concerned if I did, he would attack, and I had no back up. Though, he's still breathing.', the only reply he got was a low grunt of acknowledgment. The Bat's eyes not looking away from the entrance of the room.

'Before, you go in. I feel like I should mention, it looks like he used a liquified fear toxin to get high.', he paused to let the information sink into his former mentor, 'it's odd to say the least'. A deep questioning sigh leaving the bat, himself. 'The fear toxin normally doesn't have that affect, not even to Scarecrow or Joker.'. with purpose of investigating, the older man enters the room.

As Batman's eye scanned the room, his mind was analyzing everything about the situation. The liquified fear toxin, the dried blood splatter on the floors and walls. The blood coated weapons that undoubtably would match some of the wounds on your person. The location and angle of the wounds meaning you didn't do them yourself. It made his nerves stand on end. It was a living picture of past memories.

While crouched, he made it a point to stay at a respectable distance. Gently shaking your shoulder to identify how responsive you were. Instead of an expected attack, the reaction the bat received was a flight response. A trembling man scrambling to the corner of the room. Crying out and pleading, rambles that were barely decipherable.

The only words he was able to make out, were concerning in themselves. Joker, no more, I won't be bad again. Your overall mental distress was more so. The bat dressed hero began his attempts in calming you, all the while feeling his son's eyes on him. Statically, it was unwise to bring you back to the Batcave, instead they chorused you into staying at Dick's apartment. You were still safe, Though Dick was the most feral of the Robins, he had mellowed out tremendously with his new title of Night wing.

In the beginning of your stay, your behavior very much mirrored that of a newly adopted cat. You were allowed anywhere in the apartment, though you mostly preferred to stay in the guest bedroom. Slowly, you opened up, talking more and being more comfortable in the apartment. On the other hand, staying sober wasn't as easy as it sounded, along with unlearning bad habits. Dick and Bruce, on more than one occasion finding food hidden in your room.

A lot of your habits, Bruce has helped with before, though his sons were barely teenagers. While helping you, he was able to talk to you on the same level. Bruce tried to keep an emotional distance from you, the analytical half of his personality, fully aware you couldn't develop a healthy relationship in your state. The softer side of his personality, however, didn't stop your advancements. His emotions auguring that your advancements weren't serve enough, to have you stop them.

They weren't harmful, you weren't trying to seduce him like Cat Women, or Poison Ivy. No, your advancements were more sensual, than sexual. Often being cuddled into his side, your face being buried into his neck. Why should he tell you to stop? For you to close back into yourself? After the years it took for you to become this comfortable around people. No! He doesn't want that to happen, for your progress to decline. You can learn proper boundaries, later on.

Bruce wasn't sure how-to response the first time it happened, it caught him off guard, something very few people could do. Bruce had been visiting the apartment, to log any possible progress from you. The black-haired male, wanting to begin the next steps in your rehabilitation. During a conversation between him, and his oldest son, you had been painting. Some point, within the conversation both of their attentions had been pulled away from you. Only returning, when the feeling of your weight resting on Bruce's side became present.

You had cuddled into him to take nap. The action in itself was simple, however the implications of it was weighed in gold. It meant you trusted him; you find comfort in him. His breathe hitched as his body went ridged, almost as if he was placed into an ice bath.

'He just fell asleep on you, ya know? He didn't stab you.', his son chirped with amusement. The sharp look his father gave him in return, might as well as stabbed Dick. Although, he has seen that look far too many times for it to have an effect. Dick's shit eating grin being apparent of that.

Once it was agreed you were trustworthy enough, i.e. too many of the gremlin children banded together to complain that they haven't said hello to you yet. A visit to the Wayne Manor was set up for you, unbeknownst to you it was actually a test to see if you could handle living at the manor. Snice, the sensory within the manor could possibly be too overwhelming for you. The manor would be better suited for accommodating you, especially with the needed security. That being said, it was only your choice to make and no one else.

As for what everyone thought of you, the opinions were mixed, from some seeing you as a victim, to others seeing you as a threat. Mostly, it was in-between a victim needing support, and someone that should keep distance from.

One of the fully fledged opinions, Jason was enraged just by the fact that Dick got Bruce involved in general, as he sees Bruce as being at fault for you being a victim in the first place because, Bruce let's Joker live. Damin, thinking is black and white, you have hurt quite a few of them during battles, you shouldn't come to the manor, let alone know who they all were. It doesn't matter if you were forced to in his eyes.

That was until they actually talked to you, some of the opinions changed, mostly the more negative ones. Jason couldn't even look at you though, you reminded him too much of what happened to him. The rest in their own ways gave you a chance, or to at least to hear you out.

For the most part, you were glued to Bruce's side like always, either sitting in the chair next to him or attempting to fuse to his side. Tim pointed out to the bat themed hero, that he isn't helping your recovery, if Bruce didn't teach him healthy boundaries. With that in mind, Bruce isn't known for listening to what other's voice to him.

He wouldn't say that he was obsessed with you, he was just protective of you is all. You had been hurt without him, so you need to stay with him for it to not happen again. At least, that's how you understood it, that was your thought process. You needed protection, you needed comfort; Bruce was both within your eyes, your savior.

On the black-haired male's point of view, he was conflicted to the highest degree. He felt it was his fault Joker got his hands on you, it didn't matter that he couldn't have known you existed. It was still his fault! It was another flaw, another mistake for him to stab into his memory. To torture himself, to harm himself in a way no one could stop or detect.

Those were the thoughts whirling in Bruce's mind as he held your sleeping body, his heart pounding. You had voiced how the vast expanse of coldness, that was your Manor room, made your skin crawl with anxiety. To ease your distress, he offered for you to sleep in his room with him, which you eagerly accepted.

Nuzzling yourself close to his person, the scene causing his breathe to catch in his throat. This was far from the first time he shared his bed with someone, though this instance, felt much more intense, more intimate. This trumping even his passionate moments, with that night's wayward lover.

The cold room, shrouded in darkness. Besides the soft bedding, your bodies so close together, indulging in the others warmth. The comfortable silence, only being filled with relaxed breathing. No expectation of a sexual favor, only basking in each other's presence. It was a stark difference; the brooded man wasn't ready for.

Even if he wasn't ready for it, nor saw this blooming within his future. He wouldn't change it for the better, he knew it wasn't his healthiest relationship to date. But it was fulfilling for the both of you, so why change it?

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

Author's note: I am very sorry your request turned into this, if you didn't like it. I'm a huge psychological horror fan, and your request gave me feral ideas. I felt That I might never get a chance to put into words again. I'm so sorry this took so long!

Liked what you just read? Please like and Reblog! Check out my blog for similar content like this! I also reblog other Writer's works, so you can check them out too! #Crow!Found!Thing is my personal blog tag for other works I enjoyed from other blogs! #Crow!Writes is my personal blog tag for my original works.

[fave-fight]

ROUND 2, MATCH 1

NO MAGIC, POWERS, WEAPONS, OR ADDITIONAL HELP FROM OTHERS

Chuuya Nakahara:

“He’s the top martial artist in the entire mafia (without using his ability), and on to of that he’s the most powerful ability user (that we know of) in Bungou Stray Dogs. If this is a normal fist fight, he could probably win without using his ability unless his opponent has some form of magic/supernatural assistance. And if they do, he could kill the pretty much instantly using his ability.  Also. I’d really like to see him win for once, because in BSD the author has to keep coming up with highly specific scenarios to justify why he’s not just wiping everyone out. Some of those scenarios include: 1) he’s just not there in the first place (he was canonically out of the country for the entire beginning of the series) 2)he gets trapped in the BSD-equivalent of an alternate dimension* (ie someplace you can’t just break out of with brute force) 3)the only guy he regularly fights has the ability to be immune to all abilities AND is the top strategist in BSD (and even so Chuuya still beats him in terms of combative skills) 4)fights that he’s about to win get interrupted by other things, causing both him and his opponent(s) to go “well I guess we could just stop fighting and call it a stalemate 🤷‍♂️  5) (spoilers for the current manga arc) he’s currently being mind controlled as a vampire (BSD vampires and the equivalent of other media’s zombies. They’re mindless or mind-controlled beings who go around biting people). He would have solved all the problems by now but the author was like “nope!” and yoinked away his free will and autonomy.  *for any BSD fans who wanna check me on calling Poe’s ability an alternate dimension, I mean in the same way other subspace-type abilities are “alternate dimensions” as Rimbaud described (counting Rimbaud, Poe, and Lucy for this type of ability), rather than referring to “alternate universes” as in Beast.”

Oliver:

“I'm going to be honest he's likely going to get his ass kicked and while "canon" is finicky because of how vocaloid works this child canonically (according to their creators) eats dirt, rocks and sometimes spiders depending on what alternative universe version you have (don't ask), they are basically feral but also sweet, they're covered in bandages and I feel like they'd take a beating anyway whee propaganda over”

“Lil blonde British boi deserves the win methinks”

“I also find funny the little British boy”

“this is a tiny little british boy who eats dirt and spiders for a living just let him die in a fight it would be hilarious he survived eating tarantulas and dirt and weird things let him die via a fistfight like he should”

“This kid eats rocks and spiders. He is unstoppable. Let the Victorian child kill.”

“Small skrunkly british victorian boy swag, also itd be funny to see a 12 year old win against everyone else”

[sgtmickeyslaughter]

68 + 70 for the trope mashup please? 💖

68 Husbands In Love + 70 Secret(s) Revealed/Accidental Confession(s)

Helloooo how are you?

Okay, so this is literally exactly the plot to a fic I’m writing right now (bc great minds think alike) so I am just going to answer this with a little WIP Monday

This is so clearly a first draft so it needs a lot of of polishing, but you get the gist

Ian had one last secret. One last holdout in the space of his mind that used to hold all the shameful and brilliant little lies that he kept to himself. 

It took him a long time to figure out why he used to keep so much to himself. Why he liked the tight, bottled up feeling that came with keeping everything in. Logically he knew it came from being a middle child, from feeling like nothing going on with him was important enough to add extra stress to Fiona’s plate, and that Lip wouldn’t give a shit about anything he couldn’t relate to so there was no point in trying to confide in him. 

But there was also the less obvious explanation, that he liked the feeling of keeping secrets. It made him feel safe, like he was the best version of himself because he could tuck away anything shameful. Control, it was about controlling how people viewed him, and in a sense, who he was. 

He never kept very many secrets from Mickey, as first he was so scared of the scowling kid with spiked up hair and solid fists he wouldn’t bother trying to lie, but then he realized that Mickey didn’t care, wouldn’t judge him, and wouldn’t tell anyone. He also didn’t buy anyone’s bullshit, even a seasoned professional like Ian. 

Even then, after they got locked up together and had nothing but time to talk and all of the little secrets Ian had managed to keep from him came out until Ian felt flayed in front of Mickey, only for him to lean down and kiss Ian gently, insisting that he already knew all that anyways. 

Now, after a couple years of marriage, Ian held on to his one last secret like a vice. Because he knew that Mickey could forgive a lot, that there was almost nothing Ian could do that would really, truly push him away, but that this secret could be enough to drive a wedge between them. 

His only saving grace was that Mickey didn’t ever go through his phone. Sure, he’d answer a text or change the music when Ian was driving, or dancing around the kitchen cooking. If Mickey did monitor who he was talking to, Ian would need to explain to his husband why he was texting with Svetlana every few weeks, or why he had so many photos of a little blond kid that looked a lot like a Milkovich in his camera roll. 

Coming to an archive near you in february/march 2024 :) thank you for asking

[erikiara80]

El, Sarah and Shirley Jane Temple

Becky and Terry's aunt Shirley thinks that their house is haunted (**) and when El meets Axel, he calls her Shirley Temple.

Axel: Aw... Shirley Temple lost her sister. So sad. [...] If I have to ask again, Shirley, you'll start losing things. Starting with those pretty little locks.

Shirley Temple's full name was Shirley Jane Temple, and when she was a kid, she was famous for her golden locks. El does have locks, she's been associated with blonde girls/sisters since S1, and the child Terry sees in the Rainbow Room is blonde. But she doesn't have locks. I know, I know, maybe it's not important. But I keep thinking that there is a girl with golden locks who "haunted" Hopper, like a ghost. A girl who is connected to the lab, Eleven and Will. Maybe, Shirley Temple is a subtle reference to her.

Sarah (or the actual Jane?)

"After Sarah, I saw her, too" (other references to ghosts)

I'm still working on this theory to see if it makes sense, but the connection between Hopper and Terry is undeniable. We still don't know the whole truth, and I think this scene is more relevant than we think.

Sarah died in the lab.

In 2x07, this bald man says to El "You're dead! We're all dead!"

There's also this graffiti: ICU. Someone said that it could be a hint that Vecna is spying El (I see you). And Shippingfangirl013 pointed out that it could also mean Intensive Care Unit.

It reminds me of the I see you -> but do you see me? in the bathroom, in the scene of Chrissy's vision (of her mother), and the hand with nail polish, similar to the mysterious hand El sees in her memory.

One of the guards in Terry's memory resembles Hopper, and Becky resembles Diane. This seems intentional.

Becky says twice, with a smirk, that Hopper and Terry would've gotten along.

There are octagon tables in Terry's and Hopper's houses, and we see them when Becky is talking about MK Ultra and LSD, and when Hopper has just woken up after being drugged and is searching the house for microphones.

Octagons on Jane's blanket

The octagon fountain

This octagon in the russian prison. Joyce says that she lost Hopper for eight months, and in 2x04 Flo tells Hopper that Joyce called him eight times.

So, Hopper and Terry are both connected to number 8. Kali, who has the power to make people see or not see what she chooses. Basically, what drugs and mind control do. ("LSD mind control experiments -Powell in 1x03. "Elaborate experimentations in perusal of mind control" - newspaper article in 1x08) There's clearly something wrong, because Hopper never mentioned that Sarah died in the lab, but in S3 he says that he came back to Hawkins after her death, because he was running away from those sad memories. That proves that he doesn't know that Sarah died in Hawkins. He forgot (was drugged)

Kali mentions El's policeman a few times, she interrupts and scares El when she's listening to Hopper's message, and S2 literally starts with Kali being chased by the police.

It's also interesting that it's Hopper who mentions the lab turning parents' brains into mush, in the season in which the agents drug him and threat to kill him and make it look like overdose. Cigarettes are another big hint that Hopper and, imo, Joyce have been drugged. Almost every time we see someone with a cigarette, the scene is connected to Hopper, Joyce and their kids, the lab or Billy, the "new Will". I'm thinking about one scene in particular, I'll make a post about it.

Anyway, there are other hints at Hopper and Terry's connection. The clowns and the elephant in Jane's crib, and the clowns and elephants on Sarah's pajamas (and Will was afraid of clowns)

The russian elephant gas masks we see in 3x01, after the keys activate the Machine. At the end of the season, Hopper and Joyce take the keys.

Elephant Ears behind them, when they're looking for their children.

And the Elephant, the torture device the Russian use on Hopper.

This post is already long, but there are also mentions of coffee, donuts and police chases on Terry's TV and in her message, when she changes the channels. And mentions of kids' breathing that are always about Sarah, Will and El.

(**) Speaking of aunts, I'm also thinking about Joyce's crazy aunt, Darlene, and this weird line, when Becky asks Hopper and Joyce if they want to talk to her sister, and Hopper says: "If Terry Ives is your sister, then yeah, we do".

Why the if? Are they implying that Becky is not really Terry's sister? What does it mean? So much to think about!

[tosxa-h]

No Such Roses I See In Her Cheeks

cont. | @nagareboshiko

Truly there was nothing more fulfilling than the sweet smell of fresh blood. When the rich iron soaks your lungs and you are aware of what you already knew, you were the stronger of the two. Perhaps three... By Celestia, there could be an army. But Ajax knew that he was stronger than the rest... Most.

A trip to the Chasm hadn't been on the cards but given his position within the Harbingers and how they saw him, who was he to refuse when they so kindly asked him to learn a little more about this unknown scope of land? This grand canyon connecting one mass of land to another? What dangers and treasures might lurk there? Fatui had already been dispatched but their investigations long seemed dry and yielded little to nothing of much intrigue. But That Blonde Girl. The one you met in Liyue. My dear traveller had seemed interested in the area for one reason or another. She'd wiped out a fair few of those stationed there. And so word travelled fast. Delight was certainly the word that could describe Childe's feelings to the Chasm Request.

Delighted he certainly was. Travel was swift, he was eager to see Liyue once again but he was fast through the town before he got to the Chasm. Their pathetic idea of security was almost too tempting to strike down, but he decided against it to finding his one way in. And after speaking to what little of the Skirmishers were left he took in the darkness and delights that the Chasm had to offer. Eerily, it reminded him of something from long ago.

As he continued deeper into the rocky formations his boredom only grew. Nothing to fight, nothing to kill. It must have been at least a few hours and he was getting itchy.

"People were going in and not coming out huh?" He grumbled under his breath, disappointed in the lack of life. Just when he thought he should go back to the surface and get rid of all this energy, the sweet familiar clang of metal rang in his ears, echoes of grunts and bodys hitting the cold floor complimented one another. He moved before his mind could think, running down the unfamiliar paths until his eyes caught the Traveller surrounded by mounds of bodies. He didnt have the time to appreciate how stunning she looked in that moment as his dual blade appeared in his hands and he swiftly made work of two Hilichurls at once.

The fray died down, fresh blood on his shoes and sleeve. Childe whipped of the blood from his blades and allowed them to disappear into thin air. "Hey Girly-" There was a groan from the floor, a Hilichurl still breathing despite the wounds. Tartaglia stomped on his head, feeling the bones crack under his heel. It's fingers twitched before it slumped like the flesh and bones it was.

Childe reached forward, tentatively wiping the blood from her cheeks. He noted the way she flinched, but she did little else after and continued to rub the red away from her light skin. Like sanguine and snow. What a sight.

He chuckled and pulled away. "Worse? Saying you had it all under control before I came along?" She was more than capable and he respected her greatly. "Why are you even down here to begin with? Surely cant be to kill off these things?"