#and this is ALSO why he's terrified of being a father. he's terrible at names.

[saphira-approves]

Asdfghjk okay listen I don’t think he’d have a ton of kids but the mental image of “any other kids [named] after tornac” is just bringing to mind a slew of children all named some variation of tornac. “Tor.” “Nack.” “Tora.” “Nora.” Everyone is confused and bewildered as he tearfully names a child Canrot.

Aiedail Base: Moon Base, the Sequel

First of all, incredibly rude of the Inheriwiki not to have even a stub page for Aiedail, the Morning Star.

Second of all, HEY. Astronomy time. Y'all know what a morning star is?

IT'S A PLANET.

Now I know a base/outpost/whatever on another planet is much much MUCH less feasible than a moon base but honestly this post is less about "ha ha what if the Dragon Riders had a moon base" and more "hey there's a whole planet with a whole name given linguistically significant attention despite not having any plot focus at all, and also Angela is in the sci-fi book, mr Paolini is either Alagaësia or Aiedail a COLONY PLANET?"

anyway I don't have time to like. write an essay about it or anything but Aiedail is one of the first words Brom teaches to Eragon and a morning star is usually a planet (Venus is our IRL morning star, for the record) and we know at least that spells to travel in super high altitudes are established so. hey. yeah. think about it.

[palskippah]

Hi! I give you this Stobotnik fankid I made a while ago :'y

She's Sofia --or Ivania or some other name ending in 'ia'-- Robotnik (coolest last name)

It's a compilation and also there's some Stone for practice bc I have no idea how to draw him pipipi Eggman is easier bc it's just his Sonic Boom design (I love it)

Some stuff about this universe under the cut!

(Btw if there's incongruencies is bc I can't make up my mind about the facts whwhw)

-Robotnik and Stone are married, very much married. Cartoon villains in love, I love that for them.

-["MARTHA I'M COMING HOME SWEETIE-"] Mixing up the movie things and the whatever's going on in the Sonic Boom, so Robotnik was gone for eight months and when he's back she's already born.

>Also the drawing is a reference to Icarly's "Whatcha got there?" "A smoothie" but she was clearly asking about the ostrich Spencer brought with him.

>Alternatively, Eggman's there and they go through the journey together yippiee. Choosing names, making evil parenting plans and whatever, being their idiot selves.

(After celebrating because they're good news actually) "I want a boy or a girl-" (Eggman) "Yeah me too." (Stone) "-and we should name them a single, worth of remembering name! Like... Eggette for a girl and Eggson for a boy." "I'm not letting you name them any of that, doctor..." "Okay, then how about Beyonce for a girl and-"

>They wouldn't have kids (?? maybe? I don't really know, I only know sonic boom and the movie :'U)- but she was probably the 1% the birth control warns you about. Also, Stobotnik got a very active seggsual life, and I'm imagining she came to be from a quickie over the desk, why not.

>Helpful diagram of Eggman + Stone kissing and then = baby. They were in work hours.

-In the one where he comes back and the baby's already there, Eggman does a terrible job as a father the few first months, but then he gets the hang of it and it's not so bad.

>He gets projectile vomited on and he's immediately asking to get an abortion (the baby's already born) (he didn't give birth to her), Stone says no anyways.

>"Surprisingly, I'm a good father" he thinks one day and it's because he's still very much an orphan here with no frame of comparation or example aside from researching the matter.

-In the one where they wait for her together, he does all the research necessary in all those months, absolutely refusing in doing an average job in that matter, he's the great Ivo Robotnik c'mon. He excels at anything and he'll be a great father (jk he's terrified of fucking up).

-The Stobotnik family is an evil but loving family, like the bears in Puss in Boots whwh criminal family✨

-For the funny of it, Sonic and Eggman got a sort of relationship like in Sonic Boom, so sometime maybe our favorite boy, Tails and Knuckles had to look after their child.

-Also since Knuckles broke Stone's and Robotnik's hands with their handshake, let's have him handle the baby with the most careful grip ever, just to demonstrate that he didn't have to grab their hands that hard aksdjask

-She's a big fan of Sonic and friends (Sonic the Hedgehog, not Sonic Wachowski, the second guy hadn't done even half the things she admires him for, but no one has the heart to tell her when she's a kid). Has a bunch of merch and all the comics of Sonic the Hedgehog.

>When she's a teenager she proudly uses her Sonic backpack in the same way Deadpool uses his Hello Kitty backpack.

-BTW Sonic, Knuckles and Tails are all brothers and Maddie and Tom's kids bc that's the best idea ever made.

-ALSO I'm definitely gonna draw that scene where Knuckles was about to put the baby in the blender and Sonic shouts THE CHILI DOG NOT THE BABY. Some day, you'll see pipipi.

-SAGE was created for various reasons, to be her sister (since she wouldn't stop asking for one but neither Stone nor Robotnik were willing in raising another human kid, thanks very much), to protect her, and also to answer the tedious "why?" questions that neither father had the patience for (A+ parenting right there). Maybe she was used for the original purpose too idk (I don't know that sonic game where she debuts).

>The child's delighted about having a sister, then she grows up and SAGE doesn't, so she has a little sister.

>METAL SONIC TOO MAYBE? Perfect lil american family, the two happily married parents and their three kids (one human girl, an IA and a robot clone of their alien enemy).

-On her early months she was called Pebble, because she really was a mini Stone, Robotnik went along with it (bc he also looked at her and only saw his husband whw) until she was a little older and they started calling her by her name.

>Alternatively, since Eggman was gone, Stone waited for him to return in hopes of choosing together a name for their child, and Pebble worked as a placeholder since she was just a bebi.

>Alternatively alternatively, Eggman came up with the nickname. ROCK-ONNAISSANCE 🗣️ also yeah I know he was going crazy from the mushroom stuff, but he's not above making silly puns, he's a dad now and also he's naturally silly.

(NGL I really gotta make up my mind about how it all happened ajsdkad)

-She's a spoiled kid and also a little menace, unintentionally evil, she can't help it.

>Good-hearted too sometimes, she loves Sage and does her best to protect her back (it's not necessary but it's appreciated anyways).

-Robotnik calls himself 'daddy' way too much in the live-action movies to ignore it, so he's daddy and Stone's dad (dada when she was younger).

>"These are my daddies!" (points to what's clearly two villains -but also good fathers-)

-She has Robotnik's eyes but as big as Stone's. They're the lethal-est sad puppy eyes ever (they work wonders on both parents and other people) (both men got beautiful dark brown eyes with visible eyelashes fight me).

>Look at Eggman's silly eyelashes:

>Also, you know that picture of Lee Majdoub with the beautiful everything? I think he was wearing eyeliner so my Stone wears eyeliner too in contrast to Eggman's dark circles under his eyes JDJS😭

-She's the five-year-old that made Sonic fear them because 'they can be so cruel when they sense weakness' (she was brutally honest as any young kid is).

-Stone and Robotnik got Gomez and Morticia Addams kinda parenting. They see their child beating up someone and they're like:

"What did we do wrong?" (Stone while shaking his head in disappointment) "I know... she lacks resourcefulness." (Eggman) "Exactly, there's her baseball bat right there, why doesn't she use it?"

-Remember that Shadow said in a game that he wouldn't mind taking a candy from a baby? (fandub I think but still) This comes in handy when neither Tails, Sonic or Knuckles want to upset the kid (so Shadow does it instead).

-She plays sports too because she got too much energy. In each of them she loses her patience. She grabs the football and hauls it at the nearest team member, she throws her baseball bat to the ground and starts beating up whoever threw the ball that she missed, she stomps in frustration if she loses, she's great at dodgeball (sends her classmates to the infirmary).

-Throws tantrums and stuff and overall's an annoying kid if she's upset. Eggman's like UGH WHY'S SHE LIKE THIS?? and Stone's like Because of you, doctor (terrible temperament runs in the family and also Robotnik just spoiled her too much).

-I'm kinda dressing her up in the clothes that existed in my mind that supposedly Eggman wore (the weird dress-like jacket with the big zipper in the middle). Under her jacket there's a dress in the same pattern as the original Eggman's clothes, also she wears a baby onesie like that too.

-When she's older she's definitely proud of her fathers, but she doesn't appreciate the rumors that she's prone to go power-crazy like Robotnik did. Especially because it may be true, but what do they know.

-For the irony, she can't stand drinking coffee, but loves the smell of it because it reminds her of home (omg).

-THEY HAVE A PET CAT like I read in some fics and her name is Robot and she's a lil shit and also grumpy like Robotnik.

>Maybe she brings her alive mice to experiment on all sort of stuff (like Pávlov and his dogs and the guy Skinner with his mice and cats (??))

-She gets to hang out with Sonic and friends under the condition of annoying him as much as possible. So, she complies. (She loves Sonic the Hedgehog, but she loves making her fathers happy more).

-Very smart kid but not to the level of Tails or Robotnik at that age, she's just got very good memory and learning skills and knows a lot of stuff ever since she was a little kid. More like a Matilda-kinda intelligence.

-She's a scientist when she grows up too but the kind that makes evil potions and serums and stuff aksjdk probably (chemistry things? biochem idk). She can make silly little robots for the fun of it but it's not her passion, unlike Robotnik and Stone's. PROBABLY. I'm still deciding.

-BTW LOOK (it says 'carefully crafted ploy to distract space porcupines')

>While Eggman's there with the baby and Sonic in front of him going AWWW BABY BOO and making her laugh, Stone is sneaking up on him holding a chair above his head to knock him out.

THAT'S IT THANKS FOR READING ✨✨

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Get Me Out of Here || Rook Hunt

You’re isekai’d into a trashy novel and stuck as a tragic side knight character. All you want is survival, but your boss is Rook Hunt—a poetic, eccentric duke.

Now you’re caught in his chaos and, worse, you kinda don’t mind.

Series Masterlist

You’re a completely normal person. You eat normal meals at normal times, sleep the normal amount of hours (give or take a few, who needs all eight anyway?), and hold down a regular, soul-crushingly normal job. It’s not glamorous, but it pays the bills and lets you indulge in your one true love: reading web novels for five hours straight like some kind of feral literature goblin.

Your current obsession? The Lady’s Tragic Love. It’s the sort of story that you can’t put down—not because it’s good, but because it’s so excruciatingly terrible that it loops back around into comedy. The heroine has all the personality of a wet tissue but somehow manages to ruin everyone’s lives with reckless abandon. It’s almost impressive.

You rub your temples as you skim yet another chapter. “Oh my God, this woman has the moral compass of a black hole,” you mutter.

The plot makes less sense the deeper you go: the heroine starts off as the daughter of a down-on-their-luck noble family. Her father racks up an unholy amount of debt, so she’s forced to marry a viscount who—get this—is actually a nice guy. Like, genuinely kind. He agrees to marry her in name only to protect her from debt collectors, even offering to fund her hobbies.

And what does she do? Poison him. Poison him!

"Okay, maybe she's misunderstood," you think, in the kind of delusional optimism only a web novel enthusiast can muster.

Nope. She poisons him because she "can’t stand looking at his face," which is only mildly unattractive and not the ogre-like monstrosity the text implies. Also, he was literally helping her stay alive.

“Oh, sure, let’s kill the only decent male character in this hellscape. Why not?” you hiss, scrolling furiously.

After committing literal murder, the heroine sets her sights on an archduke, who is tall, handsome, and very much engaged to the so-called villainess. The villainess is stunning, kind, intelligent, and inexplicably hated by everyone because—checks notes—she’s too perfect?

At this point, you're gripping your phone so hard that it’s a miracle it doesn’t snap in half. “Why is the villainess the villain? This should be the heroine’s title! She’s practically speedrunning how to be the worst human being alive!”

But no, the heroine gets rewarded for her nonsense. The archduke doesn’t fall for her (because he has taste), but the crown prince does. The prince, apparently a sucker for chaos, marries her. Instead of being happy with her new title and riches, the heroine spends her days scheming to ruin the villainess’s life because, in her words, “How dare the archduke choose someone that isn’t me?”

You pause and reread that line. Then reread it again.

“WHAT?!” you yell so loudly that your downstairs neighbor bangs on the ceiling.

It’s a spiral of nonsense that drags you through emotional whiplash until you finish the last chapter with a migraine and a full-blown existential crisis. You stare at the screen. "Why...why did I do this to myself?"

You stumble out to your tiny balcony to clear your head, phone still in hand. The cool night air washes over you as you lean on the railing, your brain buzzing with rage and confusion.

“Why does she get a happy ending?” you grumble. “She’s a walking red flag factory! The villainess deserves to be queen, and the prince deserves a lobotomy for his taste in women!”

In your frustration, you kick the balcony railing. Unfortunately, your landlord hasn’t exactly been diligent about repairs. The rusted screws holding it in place give way with a terrifying screech.

“Oh, come on,” you say, deadpan, as the railing collapses beneath you.

You plummet ten stories down, bouncing off an awning like some kind of cartoon character before landing face-first in a suspiciously placed fruit cart.

As darkness creeps in, your final thought is not of regret, nor fear, but of pure, unfiltered pettiness:

“I hope my next life is more exciting… and I never have to read about this heroine again.”

With that, you pass out, blissfully unaware of the absurd fate that awaits you.

You wake up, groggy and disoriented, and immediately ask yourself the first logical question: Why the hell am I alive?

The last thing you remember is gravity betraying you and a suspiciously convenient fruit cart breaking your fall. But when you sit up and look around, it’s very clear you’re not in your crappy apartment anymore. For starters, this place is way too clean, smells faintly of vanilla, and—oh, is that sunlight streaming through those beautiful glass windows? Not the dim, depressing flicker of the streetlight outside your old place?

Something is very wrong.

You scramble out of the bed, which is definitely not your rickety twin-sized monstrosity held together with duct tape and misplaced hope, and start poking around. The furniture is elegant, the carpet is plush, and there’s an oil painting on the wall that practically screams, Welcome to Generic Medieval Europe™!

The realization slams into you with all the subtlety of a freight train: You’re in that garbage web novel.

You pause, frozen, your brain throwing up a million red flags at once. Your knees almost buckle. "Nope. No. Absolutely not. This is some kind of cosmic punishment," you whisper to yourself, clutching your temples.

You creep towards the ornate mirror on the other side of the room, your reflection getting clearer with every step. “Please,” you mutter, “if there’s a single merciful entity out there, don’t let me be the heroine. Or the villainess. Or, God forbid, one of the male leads.”

You finally reach the mirror, squeeze your eyes shut, then crack one open. And there you are: just some random face.

“Oh, thank God,” you exhale, slumping against the wall. You’re not the heroine. You’re not the villainess. You’re not one of the tragic walking disasters that make up the main cast. You're just… some person. A total nobody.

But just as you’re about to bust out your victory dance of mediocrity, something catches your eye. You lean closer, squinting.

Wait.

No.

NO.

You’re that nobody.

You’re the tragic commoner knight who gets blackmailed by the heroine, coerced into doing her dirty work, and ends up assassinating the villainess for her. The same commoner knight who dies in three chapters because the heroine throws them under the bus as soon as the villainess's fiancé finds out what happened.

You stagger back from the mirror like it’s cursed. “Nope. Nope. Absolutely not. I did not reincarnate into this medieval soap opera just to get unalived in the dumbest way possible,” you say, pacing the room like a lunatic.

Your character’s life flashes before your eyes: the abusive father, the crippling family loyalty, the gambling debts. This poor soul had it rough even before getting turned into the heroine’s personal murder minion. And you? You’re not about to pick up that torch.

So you grab some parchment and pen what might be the most passive-aggressive resignation letter of all time.

“To Her Highness, the Crown Princess,

Kindly do your own dirty work from now on. My father can gamble himself into oblivion. I’m out. Good luck with your reign or whatever.”

Satisfied, you sign it with an unnecessarily large flourish, slap it on the desk, and prepare to bounce.

You’re halfway down the hall when you almost walk face-first into him.

Rook Hunt, the walking embodiment of “this guy doesn’t belong in this novel but here he is anyway,” stands there with his golden hair and overly dramatic smile. He’s loud. He’s eccentric. He’s dressed like he’s about to break into a musical number about the beauty of life. Oh, and he’s also the duke whose household you served in as a knight before you quit.

“Mon ami!” he exclaims, throwing his arms wide like you’re long-lost lovers. “You’ve returned to me! What an exquisite twist of fate! Shall we celebrate the beauty of reunion?”

“No,” you say flatly. You attempt to sidestep him, but Rook doesn’t just let things go.

“You cannot leave me again! Do you not wish to resume your role as my loyal knight?”

“Absolutely not,” you snap on instinct, because why on earth would you willingly dive back into this mess? But then it hits you. Wait.

Rook isn’t part of the main plot. He’s not the crown prince, not the archduke, not the villain, and definitely not one of the doomed love interests. He’s just… there. A minor character. A colorful extra who pops up to sprinkle poetic nonsense into the plot and then wanders offstage.

Your brain kicks into overdrive. If you stick with him, you’ll be close enough to the action to keep tabs but far enough to avoid the heroine’s nonsense. Plus, salary. And minor characters like him rarely die!

Your decision solidifies. You plaster on a winning smile and nod. “Actually, on second thought, yeah. Let’s do that.”

“Magnifique!” Rook practically beams as he grabs your arm. “Come, let us bask in the splendor of returning home!”

You follow him, letting his endless stream of poetic babble wash over you. Is this the best plan? Probably not. But it beats getting murdered for a heroine who couldn’t find her moral compass with both hands and a map.

You make it back to the duke’s grand estate—because of course it’s grand. Every aristocrat in this godforsaken novel seems to have a mansion the size of a small country. Rook practically floats through the gates, his dramatic energy causing every passing servant to give him the “not again” look. You follow, still trying to process the reality of your current situation.

After an unnecessarily flowery tour of the place (you’ve been here before in this body, but you let him talk because it’s easier than interrupting), he finally stops in the courtyard. He turns to you, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Now, mon chevalier, reclaim your rightful position as my trusted bodyguard!” he declares, flinging his arms wide as if inviting the heavens to applaud him.

You blink. “…Respectfully, sir, why do you need a bodyguard?”

He pauses, staring at you like you just asked why water is wet. Then, with an infuriatingly serene smile, he says, “Ah, but the shadows are filled with secrets, my dear knight! The beauty of life is in its mysteries, n’est-ce pas?”

You squint at him. “Okay, but that doesn’t answer the question.”

He leans in closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Because the wolves, mon ami. The wolves.”

You freeze. “…What wolves?”

Rook straightens up, tilting his head as if contemplating the meaning of the universe. “Ah, they are everywhere and nowhere. In the forests, in the halls, in the hearts of men. Who can say where danger truly lies?”

This man just said a whole lot of words without saying anything.

“Right,” you say slowly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “But you’re, like, ridiculously strong. I’m pretty sure you could take on any wolf—metaphorical or not—by yourself.”

“Ah, mon chevalier,” he says with a wistful sigh, placing a hand on his chest like he’s reciting a Shakespearean soliloquy. “Strength alone cannot protect one from the unexpected, the unseen, the poetry of peril!”

You stare at him, trying to figure out if this is some sort of elaborate prank. But no. This man is completely serious.

“So… wolves. Poetry of peril. Got it,” you mutter, rubbing your temples. “I’ll, uh, just… go patrol or something, I guess.”

Rook claps his hands together, beaming. “Ah, magnifique! I knew you would understand! Truly, you are a gem among knights!”

You slink off, still scratching your head. You’re 90% sure the wolves are a metaphor for absolutely nothing, but who are you to question the logic of a trash novel? At least the pay is good.

You quickly realize this trash novel is trying to trash you right back. It’s like every corner you turn, fate has decided you don’t deserve a peaceful life.

Walking through the garden to calm your nerves? Someone leaps out of the hedges with a dagger. You narrowly dodge, trip over a decorative fountain, and the attacker runs off, cackling.

Trying to enjoy the roses because you’re starting to think, “Hey, if I gotta die, at least let it be aesthetic?” Nope, arrow. Right past your ear.

By the fifth assassination attempt (some guy “accidentally” dropping a potted plant from a balcony), it clicks. The heroine must’ve decided since you’re not doing her dirty work anymore, she needs to eliminate you before you spill the beans. But, unlike her, you have brains.

So, you write a letter.

Dear Villainess and Esteemed Archduke,

I hope this letter finds you well, though considering the general chaos surrounding us, that feels optimistic.

I am writing to inform you of an unfortunate situation involving a certain someone (cough the crown princess cough) who has, shall we say, less-than-noble intentions toward your continued existence.

To clarify: she asked me to assassinate you. I know, shocking. However, as someone who values integrity, personal safety, and not being murdered by shady royalty, I’ve decided to step down from my position as her unwilling assassin.

This does mean she may hire someone else to handle the job, which is unfortunate for you but also none of my business anymore. I’m not sure how you typically handle murder plots, but I suggest taking precautions, like perhaps not smelling your roses or standing under precariously placed flower pots.

Lastly, while I am admittedly a pawn in this chaotic mess, I felt it was only fair to let you know what���s going on. I wish you both a long, unassassinated life.

Warm regards,

Your Local Retired Assassin

P.S. Please don’t kill me. I’m just the messenger.

You thought this letter would buy you peace. Instead, it bought you an invitation.

And by “invitation,” you mean you’ve been dragged into a private meeting with the villainess and the archduke, who are both sitting across from you now, looking like they’re deciding whether to thank you or strangle you.

“So,” the villainess says, her voice like ice. “You’re telling me the crown princess is plotting to kill me?”

“Uh, yes,” you say, your palms sweating. “But, like, not me anymore! I’ve retired. Permanently.”

The archduke raises an eyebrow. “Why would she want to kill us?”

You glance at the villainess. “Uh… because you exist?”

Before the villainess can stab you (she looks ready), the door swings open, and in saunters Rook.

“Ah, my friends!” he says, grinning ear to ear. “How serendipitous that we are all here. I believe I can shed some light on this matter.”

You gape as Rook launches into a detailed explanation of the heroine’s convoluted scheme—exactly what she’s planning, who she’s hiring, and even the color of the dress she’ll wear while gloating about it.

The villainess and the archduke exchange a glance, then rise, thanking Rook for his “invaluable insight” before sweeping out of the room, leaving you and Rook alone.

You turn to him, your jaw still on the floor. “How do you even know all that?”

Rook just winks at you. “Ah, mon chevalier, the shadows have ears, and I am their maestro.”

He struts out, humming a jaunty tune, leaving you sitting there, more confused than ever. At this point, you’re half-convinced Rook is either a genius or just making stuff up as he goes. And honestly? You’re too tired to figure it out.

You’re stationed at the edge of the garden, trying your best to blend into the scenery while the tea party unfolds. Rook, as usual, is the life of the gathering, passionately chatting with Vil and Epel, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

You’re in your usual "bodyguard mode," which mostly consists of staring off into the distance and trying not to fall asleep. It’s peaceful—for once—until Epel casually drops a comment loud enough for even you to hear.

"Rook, you finally got them back, huh?"

Your brain screeches to a halt.

Got you back? Back? What does that mean? What is there to get back? Was there something to get back in the first place?

You barely have time to process any of this before Rook, in the most Rook way possible, interrupts with a flurry of poetic nonsense.

“Ah, young Epel, the winds of fortune have indeed graced me with their bounteous song! But let us not dwell on the past, for the present blooms before us like a radiant garden of opportunity!”

You blink. Did… did that mean anything? Epel seems to think it doesn’t, judging by the way he rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath. But you’re too busy processing the odd look on Rook’s face to care.

Because, for the first time ever, Rook looks nervous.

His usual serene confidence is still there, but there’s a hint of something else—a faint pink dusting his cheeks, an almost imperceptible shift in his tone. And why the hell is your heart fluttering at the sight?

You squint at him, trying to decode whatever is happening here. Is he… embarrassed? Flustered? Can Rook even be flustered?

Before you can spiral further into overthinking, you notice Vil’s sharp gaze cutting through the moment like a knife. His violet eyes lock onto yours, and an infuriatingly amused smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

Oh no. He knows.

Vil, of course, pretends like nothing’s happening, smoothly pouring himself another cup of tea and joining the conversation like the consummate aristocrat he is. But every so often, you catch him glancing at you with that same entertained expression, like he’s just discovered a juicy secret.

You try to shake it off, refusing to let yourself be dragged into this nonsense. But Rook’s flushed face lingers in your mind, and every time he smiles at you for the rest of the party, you feel the heat creeping up your own cheeks.

Great. Just great. Whatever this is, it’s going to haunt you for days.

It started with an uproar in the palace—a desperate, urgent call for help sent to Rook, Duke of Hunt.

"The wolves are attacking!"

You were mid-sword practice when the messenger arrived, breathless and frantic. He handed the summons to Rook, who took the parchment with an amused smile.

"Wolves, you say?" he mused, tapping his chin dramatically.

"Yes, my lord!" The messenger practically collapsed from the effort of delivering the message. "They’ve breached the outer gardens, and the prince and heroine request your immediate assistance!"

Rook looked at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ah, mon chevalier, do you recall what I told you once about wolves?"

You blinked, frowning. "You mean the thing about being surrounded by wolves one day? I thought you were joking."

Rook’s grin widened. "Oh, I never jest about wolves."

You opened your mouth to demand clarification, but Rook waved the parchment dismissively. "Alas, I must decline."

The messenger froze. "W-What? But…you’re the Duke of Hunt! The greatest tracker and marksman in the kingdom! Without you, the palace is doomed!"

Rook leaned forward conspiratorially. "Tell me, mon ami, what makes you think I’d risk life and limb for the likes of the heroine and her precious prince?"

The messenger stammered. "B-But—"

Rook held up a hand, silencing him. "No, no. I simply cannot. My schedule is far too packed. Why, just this morning, I promised my chevalier here that I’d help reorganize their weapons rack." He turned to you with a wink. "Isn’t that right?"

You rolled your eyes but nodded. "Yep. Super busy."

The messenger left, looking utterly defeated. You figured that was the end of it.

It wasn’t.

Over the next two hours, messengers kept arriving, each more desperate than the last. Rook refused them all with increasing flamboyance.

One messenger was sent away with, "Alas, the stars are not in alignment for such a hunt!"

Another was dismissed with, "The winds whisper that this is not my destiny today."

Finally, a personal plea came from the heroine herself. She barged into the estate, dramatically throwing herself at Rook’s feet.

"Oh, noble Duke!" she wailed. "You are the only one who can save us! Please, I beg of you!"

Rook tilted his head, pretending to think it over. Then he glanced at you, his expression suddenly sharp beneath the veneer of cheer.

"And what of my chevalier?" he asked.

The heroine frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You’ve made quite a nuisance of yourself lately," Rook said lightly, though there was an edge to his voice. "Why, only yesterday, you sent someone to ambush them in the gardens, did you not?"

Her face paled.

"I might reconsider," Rook said, his tone taking on a singsong quality, "if you promise to leave them alone from now on."

There was a long, tense pause. The heroine’s expression flickered between rage and fear before she finally forced a smile. "Very well. I promise."

"Splendid!" Rook clapped his hands and stood. "To the hunt, then!"

You stood there in stunned silence as he walked out the door, bow in hand. When he turned back to flash you a grin, you couldn’t help but mutter, "What the hell just happened?"

Rook’s laugh echoed through the halls, and you were left wondering yet again if you’d ever fully understand this ridiculous man.

It’s payday, baby.

You’ve never been more excited to hold a pouch of jingling coins in your life. Your day off couldn’t have come at a better time, and you’ve already decided to treat yourself. No assassination attempts, no cryptic poetry, no Rook yammering about beauty—just you, the market, and sweet, sweet retail therapy.

After wandering for a while, you stumble upon a fruit stall, and your eyes light up. The produce is incredible—vividly colored, juicy, and nothing like the waxy, suspiciously glossy stuff you’d get in your original world. You don’t even know what half these fruits are, but they smell amazing, and you’re buying them all.

As you carry your haul back to the manor, an idea hits you like a freight train. You’ve been craving dessert—specifically, something you can’t get in medieval Europe. Something simple, sweet, and utterly anachronistic.

And that’s how you end up in the kitchen, surrounded by fresh fruit, flour, sugar, and whatever else you’ve managed to scrounge up. You’re determined to make crêpes. Yes, you know they weren’t invented yet, but the cooks don’t even seem to know what a waffle is, so they’re not going to stop you.

It takes a bit of trial and error—because, shocker, medieval kitchens are not equipped for finesse—but eventually, you’ve got a plate of soft, golden crêpes filled with fresh fruit and drizzled with honey. It’s so beautiful it almost brings a tear to your eye.

You’re mid-bite, mentally congratulating yourself, when Rook materializes out of nowhere like some kind of dessert-seeking missile.

“Mon chevalier! What marvel have you crafted here in this humble kitchen? The scent alone rivals the sweetest perfume!”

You freeze. This is fine. He’s just curious. There’s no reason to panic. Subconsciously, you scoop up a bite on your fork and offer it to him, your body on autopilot.

Rook doesn’t hesitate, leaning in and accepting the bite with the elegance of a prince at court. “Magnifique! Truly, you have woven magic into this creation, mon cher!”

You relax slightly, pride swelling at the compliment—until he takes your hand and licks a stray drop of honey from your finger.

Your brain short-circuits.

Before you can even form a coherent thought, Rook grins at you with that infuriatingly charming smile of his, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek.

“You are as talented in the kitchen as you are with a blade,” he says, his voice warm and soft, as if he hasn’t just dismantled your sanity.

And then he’s gone, striding out of the kitchen with his usual jaunty step, leaving you standing there like an idiot, replaying the sensation of his lips on your cheek and his tongue on your finger.

You slowly sink to the floor, crêpe in hand, trying to process what just happened.

“Why,” you mutter to yourself, taking another bite of your crêpe for courage, “does this keep happening to me?”

Life had been…dare you say it, pleasant recently. No assassination attempts, no tea parties and no surprise arrows whizzing by your head. You were almost convinced this world might not be so bad after all.

But like clockwork, the plot reared its ugly head.

You were outside, basking in the rare serenity of a quiet afternoon, when the shouting began. You knew the voice instantly. It was grating, furious, and way too familiar.

Your abusive father—the original you’s deadbeat excuse for a parent—had somehow crawled out of the woodwork.

“You useless brat!” he snarled, stomping toward you. “How dare you stop sending money? Do you think you’re too good for your family now?!”

Oh, for the love of—

You crossed your arms, already done with the theatrics. “First of all, family implies mutual care and respect, neither of which you’ve ever provided. Secondly, kiss my ass.”

The man’s face turned a deep shade of purple, veins bulging in his forehead. He raised his hand, and you didn’t flinch. You weren’t scared of him. You were just irritated that he had the audacity to show up and ruin your vibe.

But before his hand could even swing down, an arrow whizzed past, slicing through the air with deadly precision. It nicked his cheek, leaving a shallow cut, and he yelped like a scolded dog.

You turned, and there he was.

Rook.

But this wasn’t the poetic, flowery Rook who praised sunsets and waxed lyrical about everything under the sun. No, this was Duke Hunt. His bow was clenched tightly in one hand, his expression colder than you’d ever seen. His eyes locked onto your father, sharp and unyielding, and for the first time, you truly understood why people called him a hunter.

Your father stumbled back, clutching his cheek. “Y-you’ll regret this! I’ll get my revenge!” he spat, turning tail and running like the two-bit villain he was.

You didn’t even watch him go. You were too busy staring at Rook, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the fact that, dammit, he looked good like this.

You silently scolded yourself. Really? Now? This is when you’re going to have a revelation about your feelings? Pull it together.

Rook’s gaze softened as he looked at you, and without a word, he closed the distance between you. Before you could process it, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a firm, steady embrace.

You stiffened for a moment, but then it hit you—you were shaken. You hadn’t realized it until now, but the encounter had left your hands trembling. And Rook…he didn’t say a word. He just held you, radiating warmth and reassurance, as if he knew exactly what you needed.

Slowly, you relaxed, leaning into him, letting the tension bleed out of your body. For once, there were no witty remarks, no poetic musings, no cryptic riddles. Just Rook, steady and solid, and the quiet comfort of his presence.

You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. Maybe life here wasn’t so bad after all.

It was the hunting competition trope—the bread and butter of every third-rate villainess novel ever written. Noblemen rode out in droves to massacre innocent wildlife in the name of prestige, while the women gathered on the sidelines to swoon over who could kill the most majestic creature.

Normally, you'd find this whole affair ridiculous, but today? Today, it was a strategic opportunity.

Rook and you had cooked up a plan. After bagging his game, Rook would publicly gift it to the villainess, cementing the stance of his household against the heroine. A subtle yet unmistakable message to everyone present: this duke’s house wasn’t here to play politics; it was drawing battle lines.

Rook was, predictably, ecstatic about it all. “Ah, mon chevalier, what a splendid opportunity to honor beauty and justice with the art of the hunt!” he proclaimed, twirling dramatically as he readied his bow.

What you didn’t anticipate was his strange fixation on a handkerchief before he left.

Throughout the day, noblewomen approached Rook, each one batting their lashes and holding out dainty, embroidered handkerchiefs. It was practically a parade of desperate peahens.

“Oh, Lord Hunt, a token for luck!” cooed one particularly persistent lady, pushing her frilly kerchief toward him.

Rook clasped his hands to his chest with exaggerated reverence. “Ah, mademoiselle, your thoughtfulness moves me beyond words, but alas, I cannot accept. To carry such a treasure into the wild would be to risk its loss, and I could never bear such tragedy!”

Another woman attempted to loop her kerchief around his wrist directly. Rook gracefully dodged, as though she were offering him a live snake. “My dear lady, your artistry is unparalleled, but the only adornment fit for this hunt is the pure, untainted spirit of nature herself!”

By the third rejection, you were practically biting your tongue to keep from laughing.

But then came the curveball.

“Ah,” Rook sighed as he approached you. “If only I had a handkerchief imbued with sincerity. A simple, honest token to guide my aim and steady my heart!”

You blinked at him. “What, like…this?” You pulled out your completely ordinary, unembellished handkerchief and held it out.

Rook’s eyes lit up as though you’d just handed him the Holy Grail. “Mon chevalier! How perfect! How divine! This humble square of cloth shall be my guiding light!”

Before you could protest, he tied it around his arm with a flourish and rode off, looking like he was ready to star in his own personal opera.

From his place in the pavilion, Vil Schoenheit took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea, his sharp eyes locking onto yours with a glint of pure amusement. The smirk tugging at his lips seemed to say, Oh, I know exactly what’s going on.

Meanwhile, Epel squinted between you and Rook, his expression shifting rapidly as though he’d just cracked the secret to immortality. He whispered something to Vil, who nearly choked on his tea before regaining his composure.

What the hell is going on? you thought, baffled.

Fast forward to now, the present, where the plan was supposed to culminate with Rook triumphantly presenting his prize to the villainess. Simple, elegant, strategic.

So why, why, was Rook standing in front of you holding a literal griffin?

“Uh, Rook,” you whispered through gritted teeth. “What are you doing? This is supposed to go to the villainess.”

But Rook was having none of it.

“Ah, my loyal chevalier,” he declared loudly, drawing the attention of every noble in the vicinity. “It is only fitting that such a prize goes to the one who inspires my steadfastness and resolve!”

Your jaw dropped. “Rook. No.”

He turned his radiant smile on you, looking like a proud schoolboy showing off a crayon drawing to his teacher. “Yes!”

The gathered nobles erupted into murmurs, and you could already feel the weight of every single judgmental stare. This was not part of the plan. But despite your internal screaming, a small, annoying part of you couldn’t help but feel…flattered. This was a duke, and you were just a knight. A very confused, very underqualified knight, sure, but still.

Vil, still seated with his ever-present cup of tea, took another long, pointed sip, his eyes glimmering with amusement.

This was the drama he’d signed up for.

The hallway leading back to the room where Vil, Rook, and Epel were sitting felt oddly silent, the muffled voices of their conversation barely filtering through the door. You weren’t one to eavesdrop—but when you heard your name, well, curiosity got the better of you.

"Just confess already," Epel was saying, his tone exasperated. "We’ve all seen the way you look at them."

Vil chimed in, his voice tinged with amusement. "Epel is right for once, Rook. Love is about timing, and yours is abysmal."

"But love is an art, mon ami," Rook replied, his tone unusually hesitant. "It cannot be rushed. It must unfold naturally, like the petals of a flower in spring."

"Okay," Vil drawled, clearly unimpressed. "But what happens when someone else plucks your ‘flower’? Say, the gardener they’ve been spending so much time with?"

The silence that followed was deafening. You leaned closer, your heart pounding, hoping—no, needing—to hear Rook’s response.

Instead, you heard nothing.

The stillness stretched unbearably until you couldn’t take it anymore. You shoved the door open, startling all three occupants. "What are you talking about?"

Vil raised an eyebrow, the picture of nonchalance, though the corners of his mouth twitched with mischief. "Perfect timing, as always. I’ll leave you two to sort this out."

He grabbed a very reluctant Epel by the collar and dragged him toward the door. "Wait, I wanna see what happens!" Epel protested, but Vil shut the door behind them with a decisive click.

Which left you and Rook alone.

You crossed your arms, leveling him with a look that you hoped masked the frantic hammering of your heart. "So…what’s this about a confession?"

Rook’s usual composure faltered. For once, the poetic, perpetually self-assured Rook you knew looked…unsure. Vulnerable. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his gloves, and he avoided your gaze, staring instead at the floor.

"Rook," you said softly, stepping closer. "Please, just tell me what’s going on. I need to know."

He finally looked up, and the raw emotion in his eyes was enough to steal your breath.

"Mon chevalier," he began, his voice low and trembling, "I have loved you from the start. At first, it was the camaraderie of equals, a kindred spirit I admired. But when you returned from the heroine’s side, defying expectations and staying true to yourself…you captured my heart completely."

You blinked, stunned. "Rook, I—"

He continued, the words spilling out as though he’d been holding them back for far too long. "You never treated me like I was strange. You accepted me as I am, even when others mocked my passions or dismissed my eccentricities. I never truly needed a bodyguard. I just needed you. Near me. Always."

His voice broke slightly on the last word, and you felt your resolve crumble.

You sighed, but it wasn’t from exasperation. It was the sound of relief, of something clicking into place. "Next time," you said, stepping even closer, "just tell me your feelings directly. It’ll save us both a lot of trouble."

Before he could respond, you reached up and pulled him into a kiss.

It was everything a first kiss should be—long, searing, passionate. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you flush against him as though he never wanted to let go. You melted into him, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, and for a moment, the world outside that kiss ceased to exist.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Rook’s lips quirked into a smile as he whispered, "Your lips are the sweetest arrow, mon amour, and they have pierced my heart beyond repair."

You burst into laughter, burying your face in the crook of his neck to muffle the sound. "Gods, Rook, only you could ruin a moment like this with something so cheesy."

He chuckled softly, his arms still secure around you.

And as you stood there in his embrace, you couldn’t help but think that this ridiculous, trashy novel world was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

The parlor was warm with the golden light of afternoon sun filtering through the windows, but the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. You stood near Rook, his arm casually draped across the back of your chair, as Vil and Epel looked at you expectantly.

“Well?” Vil prompted, raising a perfectly arched brow.

You glanced at Rook, who smiled encouragingly, as if to say, go ahead. Clearing your throat, you announced, “We’re…together.”

Vil sighed dramatically, setting down his teacup with a soft clink. “Finally. I was starting to think I’d have to intervene.”

Epel, on the other hand, froze mid-sip of his cider. Slowly, he set the glass down, stood, and walked over to you. His expression was a mix of grief and dread, like someone had just informed him of some terrible, life-altering news.

He placed both hands firmly on your shoulders and looked you dead in the eyes. “Good luck,” he said, solemn as a funeral bell. “This is a life sentence, y’know.”

Rook chuckled, clearly amused. “Mon cher Epel, you wound me! Surely being with moi is more of a treasure than a trial?”

Epel turned to him, unimpressed. “Treasure? You follow people for fun. You recite poetry to wild animals. You can’t even eat pie without analyzing its existential meaning. I mean, who does that?”

You were already laughing, shaking your head as you patted Epel’s hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Epel. This is a sentence I’m more than happy to serve.”

Vil smirked behind his tea, watching the scene unfold with obvious amusement. “Frankly, I’m just relieved we won’t have to endure any more of his tragic sighs every time you left a room.”

Rook clasped a hand to his heart in mock offense. “Oh, Vil! My sighs are poetry incarnate!”

Vil didn’t even blink. “Your sighs are the sound of unspoken melodrama. Spare me.”

Epel plopped back into his seat with a long groan, running a hand through his hair. “Anyway, I guess congratulations or whatever. At least now we can all stop pretending we don’t notice him staring at you like some love-struck puppy.”

“That’s rich,” you shot back, grinning. “You’re the one who looks like your pet rat just died every time we get close.”

Epel huffed. “I’m just saying! Now you gotta deal with him being even more poetic! And clingy! You thought the prince and heroine were bad? Wait till you see Rook when he’s in love. You’re doomed.”

At the mention of the prince and heroine, Vil made an exaggerated sound of disgust. “Speaking of those two… Honestly, has anyone ever been so painfully predictable? The prince has all the charm of wet cardboard, and the heroine—don’t even get me started on her hair ribbons.”

“Ah, the heroine,” Rook sighed wistfully, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Always so delightfully transparent. Her schemes are like open windows to her soul.”

You snorted. “If by soul, you mean her desperate attempts to turn everything into a sob story, then yeah, sure.”

Epel leaned forward, grinning. “Did you see her crying at the hunt competition? Like, girl, it’s a competition. What did you think would happen? That the griffin would apologize and hand itself over?”

Vil smirked, tapping a manicured finger against his chin. “Or how about the prince declaring his ‘eternal devotion’ to her at the banquet last week? I nearly choked on my wine.”

Rook chuckled, turning to you with a soft smile that was far more genuine than his usual theatrics. “Ah, but let us not waste all our words on such trivialities. This moment, mon amour, is one of joy.”

You leaned into him, your laughter subsiding into a contented smile. His arm slipped around your shoulders, holding you close as Vil and Epel continued their playful bickering in the background.

For the first time since you’d been thrown into this absurd world, you felt completely at ease. If this was the result of being trapped in a trash novel, then so be it. You were exactly where you wanted to be.

Trash Novel Masterlist

Complete Masterlists

[awkward-tension-art]

Clones as expectant fathers

I am an actual nero-cancer researcher. I have a job and a degree. And my ADHD brain saw sad military men and went “I want that one”

Clones: Rex, Wolffe, Fox, Cody and Fives

CW: pregnancy, the clones all have a ‘secret’ SO, They are expecting a baby, A little angsty with Fox, there's slight mentions of smut with Fives (if you squint), swearing, this is just supposed to be a good time, its not reader insert

Minors do not interact!

Rex

Terrified. Also overjoyed. But mostly terrified. 

He’s a soldier. Captain of the 501st, the most….adventurous of the GAR. His chances of dying on the battlefield and leaving his SO behind are higher than the average clone

And now he may leave behind his child? His kid may grow up without a father

He gets nervous. Anxious and antsy, and it's very VERY easy for Anakin to figure out Rex isn’t entire OK

Rex doesn’t even need to tell Anakin.

Skywalker takes one look at him and just KNOWS.

“Congrats, Rex.” “...on what, sir?” “If it's a boy, name him after me.” “WHAT!?”

Ahsoka needs to be told and she’s more excited than Rex when she finds out. 

“Come on Rex! Name them after me! The republic needs an Ahsoka jr!” “And if the baby is a boy?” “Don’t name them after skyguy, please!”

Most of the 501st don't know. Too many people knowing raises the chance of less accepting individuals knowing. And if that happens, Rex, his SO and his baby may be in danger.

It’s forbidden for the clones to have SO’s, not to mention babies. It could end with Rex being decommissioned or reconditioned if it was found out he had both

Rex will visit and help as much as he can every chance he gets. He feels terrible for leaving his SO for long stretches of time during the pregnancy. 

He WANTS to be there…he just can’t. Not while the war was going on

Despite his terror, Rex is…overjoyed

He didn’t think children were possible for him. He knew it could happen, but he didn’t think HE would ever know this happiness

The first time he feels his baby move in his SO, he’d get this sweetest smile on his face. He’ll kiss the baby bump and just murmur words of love in mando’a

He falls head-over-heels in love all over again

As the due date approaches, Anakin asks an important question

“Captain, I need to know when your baby might be born.” “...why, sir?” “Because I need to know when to take extended leave.”

Anakin tells Padme, and she is beyond sweet. Even visits Rex’s SO and the two have a wonderful friendship

All in all, Rex is both excited and anxious. But having so much support from Anakin, Ahsoka and Padme (and his other brothers who find out much later) helps him a lot

Wolffe

More relaxed. And by relaxed I mean he hides his anxiety better. And it doesn’t exactly hit him as hard

Partly because Plo Koon and the entire Wolfpack knows about his relationship already. 

So you bet your ass the pack celebrates when Wolffe tells them he's going to be a father

Plo Koon especially is excited

“How wonderful, new life being born during times of war” “I’m not naming my child after you, general Plo.” “Nonsense! The child will be a girl.”

During battle, Wolffe finds himself being protected by his brothers and General a tad more

At first he writes it off as a coincidence, but then Boost lets slip during a battle “You gotta get back to your little one!”

He gives his men a bit of a lecture. He’s not incapable of fighting or defending himself. He thinks the message gets across but Plo chimes in with, “Ah yes, the stern words of a father already!”

Wolffe would probably see his SO more frequently than Rex. Just because Plo would more than likely spend more time on Coruscant.

He’s definitely protective. As in, waking up in the middle of the night to check all the windows, protective. Keeping an arm around his SO, protective. Every symptom or sign of discomfort he calls a medical droid, protective.

He’s not stupid, he is well aware that by having an SO and a child on the way he's in violation of several rules. All of which, when broken, would have him decommissioned

But dammit, he's not letting that happen. Wolffe will be there for his SO and his baby, no matter what

Since he’s able to spend more time with his SO, he’s there to feel the first movements of his baby.

It sort of causes him to short-circuit for a second. It hits him that yes, this is a life that he and his SO both created. Out of love.

Wolffe makes a swear that he’s going to protect his baby at all costs

Grandpa Plo does as well, but the Wolfpack doesn’t know that

Fox (kinda angst)

First of all congratulations to the SO for actually managing to be Fox’s SO

They got to be something special for the head of Palpatine’s personal guard to break rules and regulations and find himself an SO

Speaking of Palpatine, congratulations to Fox! Your SO is now in even more danger!

No, seriously. Palpatine knows before Fox. No one knows how, but he knows.

And he absolutely will use Fox’s SO as leverage to keep him under control

And Fox knows this, so he behaves. More so than usual.

He’s not blind. Hes fiercely loyal to the republic, but one step out of line and the (very few) things he cares about will be killed

Which…is why Fox may come across as cold or uninterested when his SO informs him of their pregnancy

A part of him is terrified, he just won’t show it

He’s not going to be more affectionate or anything. He actually acts pretty normal. Which is standoffish.

Despite his…demeanor, he actually manages to be present for the entirety of the pregnancy. It helps being a Coruscant guard, which means he’s more present than all the other clones.

He’s not moving mountains or anything, but he’ll get snacks in the middle of the night in case of cravings

No one else knows about Fox and his SO. not even his own men. He refuses to tell anyone. 

Its for his SO’s protection

But Palpatine, the sick fuck, slips some words to get Fox’s nerves into overdrive

“This war is taking such a toll. So many dead children…so many grief stricken parents” “Sir?” “Oh nothing. Just stating the fact that the loss of an innocent life, such as…a baby, is always a tragedy. Wouldn’t you agree, commander?”

He found himself walking home a bit faster that day and hugs his SO a little tighter that night

Fox cares, in his own way. He’s just beyond stressed and anxious. But you wouldn’t know. He hides it behind a mask. 

It's actually Padme that finds out. And she feels somewhat bad for Fox. She thinks his anxiety comes from the fact that clones aren't allowed SO’s or children

Which, it is, but theres the added threat of fucking Palpatine.

She ends up getting him to tell her the truth and she swears to secrecy. Even offers to hire his SO as some sort of assistant, if only so Fox can be closer to his SO

Hear me out, he actually breaks down when he feels the baby move. He can’t fully handle it anymore and shuts down. 

This is a baby. His baby. They're alive and already so loved.

Something in him clicks and he accepts Padme’s help. 

His terror gets easier, ever so slightly. But he keeps his collected and calm front.

Cody

“General Kenobi-” “Ah! Commander Cody! Congratulations!”

goddamnit.exe

Cody is a tad more relaxed than Rex, but more tense than Wolffe

He knows Kenobi isn’t going to punish him or force him back to Kamino for decommissioning, he’s still a little on guard.

But, since Kenobi knows, Anakin does. So does Ahsoka. Which means Rex knows.

goddamnit2.exe

More people in the 501st know than in the 212th which gives him the biggest headache

Waxer knows though. Cody had to tell someone that wasn’t a sarcastic general

He does a good job hiding his worry though

Cody is able to spend about the same amount of time as Rex with his SO

He doesn’t feel as bad as Rex when it comes to the lack of presence he has during the pregnancy

It's war. It sucks and he’d prefer to be there for his SO, but he’d also prefer SO and child have freedom from the separatists

I will say, he is pretty attentive when he isn’t off in space.

Foot rubs, shoulders massages, helping with cravings

One thing Cody does is that he’ll wrap his arms under his SO’s baby bump and lift it slightly, giving his SO’s back some relief

He really loves to do this because his SO just melts

Hear me out, Cody gets giggly when he feels the baby move/kick the first time

His palm is on the bump and he feels that first little flutter against his hand

404 Commander Cody has his amygdala broken from joy. Reboot?

He’ll actually tell Kenobi about it because he’s so happy.

“That's wonderful Cody, but I still question one thing.” “What is it, sir?” “How you managed to get laid to begin with.”

Goddamnit3.exe

Fives

“Hey everyone! I’m gonna be a dad!”

Ecstatic is not a strong enough word

Also not subtle at all

There is a solid 3 hours until everyone in the 501st knows

He’s told Echo before the first hour. Rex knew within 2 hours.

Fives is BEYOND over the moon

He gets this small smile on his face that just doesn’t go away

Whenever he’s not with his SO, he definitely calls them every day. He wants updates on the little one

Also, seeing his SO with a baby bump? Unlocks something inside his brain.

Fives is incredibly horny when he’s with his SO. He’ll be rubbing their middle and getting a puppy dog look in his eye.

Only if his SO is in the mood of course! He’d never try and be forceful

He’s probably the clone that takes the distance the hardest. He debates taking a ship and making a run for Coruscant on more than one occasion.

In the end he settles to ask Anakin for extended leave.

Anakin is also extremely happy for Fives. Like with Rex, he makes a “name the baby after me” joke

Fives brings that up to his SO and nearly gets smacked. He also makes a “Fives jr.” joke and actually does get smacked.

When Fives feels the baby kick, he gets high on happiness. Actual mumbling incoherent words of love and affection in Mando’a

Lots and lots of “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum”

He also gets very VERY affectionate with his SO

Kisses his SO’s face a lot. Even as a greeting, he’ll just start peppering their cheeks with pecks

Also probably the only one ballsy enough to ASK his general for extended leave

“Excuse me, general Skywalker? I’ll need to take leave at this date.” “Oh, yea sure. You know what? That seems like a good time for all the men to take a break. Thanks, Fives.”

He’s also probably the only one ballsy enough to actually take his new born baby onto a fucking battleship to introduce everyone.

“This is your uncle Rex. This is your uncle Echo and your uncle Tup. That's your auntie Ahsoka!” “Fives what the FUCK are you doing?!” “Introducing the family, captain.”

[freak-accident419]

You Were Everything

Derek Danforth x AFAB!GN!Reader

Summary: It’s been a few years since the divorce. When you accidentally got pregnant by Derek, he left immediately out of fear, leaving you pregnant all alone. Compromises and communication had become established and all he could do now was call your daughter. But one day, just like some others, he asks to see her in person again.

Word Count: 2.3k

Content: angst, mentions of accidental pregnancy, reader is divorced from Derek, ‘P/n’ = parent name (what your child would call you, whether it be mommy/daddy/etc)

(A/n: I’ve gotta stop being inspired by Richie Jerimovich… reader is afab yet implied/intended to be genderqueer—either nonbinary, genderfluid, transman, transmasc, etc. but it can also apply to cis fem readers. Anyone with a uterus. I know this arrangement isn’t accurate—the custody thing—but it makes things more dramatic, you know?)

-

“Y/n, please.” You heard your ex-husband plead over the phone.

“Derek, we’ve already talked about this countless times. I’m not going to change my mind,” you sigh wearily.

Things with Derek were… complicated, to say the very least. You had once been married to him a few years ago, and everything was going so well. That is, until he got you pregnant.

It was a complete accident. You two always thought you were being safe. You both never planned on pregnancy, let alone even talked about the possibility of having a child. And with your conditions, you weren’t even sure you would be willing to raise it, to carry it all those nine months. But you went through with it anyway.

When Derek found out, he was utterly terrified. He never thought of himself being a father, he never thought he’d ever be the father of your kid, and he especially never thought you would even have a kid of your own. And so, out of sole fear and impulse, he just left one night. Gave you space, you supposed. But things ultimately just ended up in a bitter divorce. Derek was barely there for you.

Which was why you were so insistent on not letting him see your daughter. Jessica or Jess, she was named after Derek’s mother. She was four-years-old now, only communicating with her father on the phone, consoled by the lie you told her that he lived across the globe. During your pregnancy, he still paid for the medical bills, child support, formula, et cetera, yet he was separated from you. Therefore, you simply denied him visitation for your daughter, court-ordered, because you believed he didn’t deserve to see her. He left you alone for all those months, knowing how drastic of a concept pregnancy was to you. You never planned to let him see her.

“Y/n, please. Just for a day. Or even—even just an hour! Let me see my little girl. Please,” he begged with hopeless desperation. It was insulting to you, the fact that he finally wanted to be part of you and your daughter’s life.

“I’m not changing my mind,” you assert forcefully. “You left us. You left her and you left me.” You two always had this same conversation with the same statements and reasons. He had always brought up the possibility of seeing his daughter. This same conversation happened nearly almost every month.

“C’mon. She—she deserves to have a dad present in her life. I can’t just—just call her up all the time while she just believes I’m across the sea and unable to see her!” He urged imperatively to his ex-spouse.

“You’re right. She does deserve to have a dad. A present dad, a good dad,” you utter pressingly. “But that’s just not you.”

Derek pinched his nose bridge in frustration and sighed. He felt terrible. He felt so regretful and so horrible and undeserving of seeing his daughter in person. But he was also selfish—he needed to see her. Derek believed that he learned from his mistakes. Ultimately, he didn’t want to be a father in the beginning because he knew he was unfit. That is, until recently, when he shut down UDG and Nine Star.

“I know I messed up. I know—I know things ended horribly and—and you will never forgive me, but… but I just wanna see Jessica. Not even for an hour? Even five minutes? Five minutes, Y/n, come on, five minutes. Let me have this,” he implored. A part of you felt bad. After all, deep down you still loved him. But you kept remembering every grueling and difficult second while you were pregnant and alone.

“Derek, we’ve already had this conversation. You can continue to call her just like it has been for the past four years. But that’s it. You—” you paused in your tracks as you looked at the kitchen table, the plastic cup of milk tipped over, the drink spreading across the surface. You rushed to get napkins and you soothe your daughter. “Hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s just spilt milk. Easy to clean. You’re okay.” You wiped the milk with the napkins after setting the cup back up. She was a sensitive child, so she was definitely upset about the spilled drink, yet you were able to distract her from the accident. “There. See? All clean. Did you eat your vegetables? Oh my, you did! All of them? Good girl!”

Your sweet, higher pitched voice transmitted to the other side of the phone, Derek hearing you speak to your daughter. His heart nearly stopped as he began to hear the muffled babbles of the toddler in the background of the call. His voice softened immediately, and he couldn’t think about anything but the presence of his daughter.

“She… She’s been eating her vegetables?” He asks softly in awe.

You bring the phone back to your ear. “Yeah,” you answer simply, looking down at her as she continued to eat her lunch.

Derek felt a rush of pride. Even though it was something as small as finishing vegetables, he was extremely proud of her. He always was.

“Is she—is she there?” He inquired breathlessly.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply.

“Can I talk to her?”

“Derek—”

“Please.”

You sigh, pausing. You only let him speak to her for a certain amount of hours and at a specific time of the day, but… you figured there was no harm in letting him speak to her right now. “Fine,” you yield.

After handing the phone to your daughter and telling her who it was, you caught the sudden change of her expression—she nearly beamed.

“Hi, daddy!”

Derek felt his heart explode and his whole world practically stopped at the moment he heard his child’s voice again. Sure, he gets to call her every day, but he could never get used to it, to the feeling, to her voice. The way she called him her father with enthusiasm and exhilaration, as if he was worth all the excitement. Then his lips curled into a soft smile once he fully processed the moment. “Hey… hey, baby, how are you?”

“I’m good!” She chirped sweetly. “Guess what?”

“What is it, sweetheart?” He replies excitedly.

“I can do a cartwheel now!” She exclaimed.

“Oh really?” He chuckles softly.

“Yeah! My friend Emmy, who-who’s in gymnastics, she showed me how!” Derek smiles as he continued to hear the purity and cheerfulness of his own daughter’s voice. His heart melted every time he heard her, every mispronunciation, every babble.

“That’s amazing, honey!” He praised with admiration.

Her happiness was overwhelming. While he was proud of her—and he was—he couldn’t help but feel miserable. He couldn’t be there to see it. To see his daughter, unlike other kids, finish all her vegetables without any problems. To see her do a cartwheel for the very first time.

“I wish you could see it, daddy! It’s so cool!”

“I bet it is, Jess,” he replies joyfully, ensuring that there were no hints of anguish in his tone. “I wish I could see it too.”

It hurt him a lot, if he had to be honest—not being able to see his daughter and her achievements and growth in person. It was slowly, deliberately killing him.

“And-and yesterday, p/n’s friend Josh took us to the aquarium!” she giggled.

Oh, right. Your new boyfriend. Josh.

Josh, the one who always took you out to dinner whenever he could. The one who treated your daughter with ice cream regularly.

Josh, the one with a clean background and normal, humble life.

Josh, the one who Jess mentioned on several occasions, especially whenever she brought up your happiness.

Derek felt his mouth become dry, obligated to lick his lips. He gulped, attempting to disregard the whole painful ‘Josh’ thing with a relevant question. “Yeah? What kinds of animals did you see there?” He asked curiously.

“There were a lot of fishes, and penguins, and seahorses, and turtles, and octopuses! But my favorite were the seals,” she babbles gleefully, completely ignorant of the entire situation.

“That sounds so fun, baby,” he replied with a wide smile. “Why are seals your favorite?”

“I don’t know. They’re just really cute,” she shrugs with an innocent giggle. “P/n said that they remind them of you, though.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your p/n said that?”

“Mhm!”

“Me? Seals?”

“Yeah. They said it was because you had big puppy eyes,” she giggles.

Derek laughs. It felt nice to hear that you still spoke of him to your daughter, let alone fondly. And it was also very typical of you to say; hearing that was inexplicably nostalgic. It warmed his heart. “Can’t argue with that.”

A pondering thought lingered in his mind as he thought about you, and he felt it eating at him.

“Hey, baby, can I ask you something?” He implores gently.

“Okay!” she replies simply.

“Is… Is your P/n happy?” Derek felt nervous as he asked this question.

“Yeah!” she babbles cheerfully. “They’re always happy!”

There was a wave of a warm, bittersweet feeling in his chest as he smiled softly to himself. But also relief. He still cared about you, so, so much. Derek regrets leaving you that day. He wants to come back for Jess, of course. But he also wants to come back to you.

Derek opened his mouth to speak, until suddenly—

“Oh. P/n wants to be back on the phone.”

Derek’s smile falters immediately. He knew you never really approved of any interaction between him and your daughter, so he assumed you wanted to cut the call short. But in the end, nothing would be enough for him. Not a five minute or five hour call. He would sacrifice anything to see her. But he knew that as long as you never forgive him, it’ll never happen. “O-okay, baby. I love you, okay? Give—give the phone back to your p/n, please.”

“Okay! I love you! Bye daddy!”

He sighs as he heard the phone being passed to you, taking a deep breath as he prepared to speak to you once again. It was kind of draining, mostly because he was intimidated by you. Speaking to you was just a reminder of his failure, of how he failed you.

“Hey,” you sigh.

“Hey…”

There was a slight pause until Derek spoke up.

“So… seals remind you of me, huh?”

You groan playfully and place a hand on your forehead. “She told you that?”

“Mhm. I mean—personally, I don’t get why you’ve always talked out my eyes being ‘big and brown,’ like every time, you always said that same thing—”

“Because they are,” you chuckle under your breath. Little did he know, and little did Jess know, that she had his eyes. You had mixed feelings about Derek indefinitely, especially because of the past. But there was something so invigorating about talking about your daughter with him. “Did she tell you about the cartwheel?”

“Yeah,” he replies with a grin on his face. Knowing him for a long time, you could imagine how his face looked just by the sound of his voice. “I’m so proud of her.”

“You know, um… she’s very invested in math right now,” you bring up.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, there was this, uh, cartoon… on the TV showing simple math problems and uh… she just sorta fell in love with it. She wanted me to teach her more,” you reiterate. “Derek, she’s four.”

Derek listened in awe, becoming more and more amazed by his daughter.

“Really? She wanted to learn math?”

“Yeah,” you were practically beaming. “She is so smart, Derek,” you affirm, “Our—our daughter, she is so smart.”

”Y-yeah. She—she really is,” he replied briefly with mere astonishment.

That was the first time that you referred to your daughter as his. ‘Our,’ echoed in his mind. ‘Our daughter.’ He wasn’t sure that you even caught that, that it was intentional, because you said it so naturally and quick, but… he couldn’t help but feel good about himself—about everything—after that.

There was a short pause before you cleared your throat. “Hey, um… I thought about it a lot and, uh… I have this business thing across the country… and, um… I was planning on having my mom watch her or a sitter, but, uh…”

You pause, afraid to even make the proposal.

“I wanted you to watch her. On that weekend. You can, uh… finally meet her, spend time with her, and…”

Derek was in complete shock. His eyes were wide, he felt his entire body freeze, it was like he couldn’t move.

“When is this?” He uttered quietly in disbelief.

“In two weeks,” you answer, “Are you up for it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Of course, I…” Derek was incredibly astonished. Was this even real? You were finally going to let him see his daughter? “Of course. I’ll—I’ll be there.” He was so prepared to cancel every single plan on that weekend, clearing up his schedule just for Jess.

“Y/n, thank you. Thank you so much, I…” He was still in utter shock. It was unexpected after all, just a few minutes ago you had denied him again. But while your daughter was calling him, you got an email from your work, reminding you about the business trip. You weren’t entirely sure why you changed your mind like this. You just hoped that you wouldn’t regret it.

“Just… please don’t mess it up,” you sigh exasperatedly.

“I—I won’t,” he says confidently. Derek felt his hands shake ever so slightly, eyes watering from the realization he had—he was going to see his kid. For the first time, he was going to see his child.

“Okay.”

Derek felt emotional. He was actually going to see his kid. He was actually going to watch her cartwheel, he was actually going to hold her. He could take her out for ice cream like… how Josh had.

Derek gulped as he pondered.

“Y/n?” He mumbles silently.

You hum in response.

“I, uh… How are��How are you doing?”

“I’m doing alright, Derek,” you reply briefly.

You said his name softly this time, however—not harshly like before. It tugged on his weak heartstrings as if they were useless, frayed string.

And then there was an awful, deafening pause.

“I, uh… I still really love you, Y/n.”

You felt your heart sink before it shattered completely. Your vision began to become blurry with your now glassy eyes. It hurt. This all hurt.

Derek wouldn’t know much this affected you, however. He could only hear your voice or your silence. He’d never know how awful you felt just from hearing that, like how awful he felt from blurting it out. He believed you completely moved on from him. But he adored you, to say the very least, hopelessly. It was simply a cry for a second chance.

There was a terrible, piercing silence. Were you still there, behind the phone?

“Y/n…?”

You were speechless for too long as his words lingered horribly in your mind.

Then finally…

“I know,” he heard you reply softly, under your trembled breath.

“I—I still care about you,” you add. Wrong. You still love him too. But he would never know that. He would be foolish to assume without hearing the three words leave your own lips. And you couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him that you still loved him, because he would just hold on and hope longer. So instead, you express your gratitude for him. “Um… Thank you for… for all the good times… for being in my life…

You were a wonderful experience.”

[ourmadmusings]

a/n: bc anon asked for a part three, and im super cheesed about it. I wasn’t gonna post it until tomorrow, but what can I say, im a generous god. 

Take me far enough to say we’ve gone - 

Miguel O’Hara was also a nervous man, as it turned out. He was nervous for you, afraid of what the light in his chest had to offer when he saw you return from a successful trail-run. His bluff was called, it seemed, and you passed with flying colors, earning a wide smile from Peter B. as he dropped you off, once again in O’Hara’s main quarters. The heavy glow from all of his screens casts him in an ever-intimidating light, that seems to be his theme with you. Scary.  He’d watched you with rapt attention on your little assignment, not sure why he’d anticipated the worst to happen to you - worst-case was Peter stepped in and bailed you out, but he’d informed Miguel that he hadn’t even needed to give any advice, a silent watcher, only coming down from his perch on a near building to show you how to activate the force-field device and ring in for a transfer.  “Well, looks like you’ve earned a permanent position amongst our ranks, huh?” He’s mumbling a little, he seems a little deflated as he says it. “Isn’t that a good thing?” You’re raising a brow behind your ever-present mask, nary a ding on your suit. He can tell how much confidence the mission had given you, your shoulders not tilting inwards like they had the last few times he’d loomed over you. Your back was straight, and your hands pressed firmly on your hips in the shared stance every spider-person adopts when they know they’ve done well.  “Of course it is, but these missions aren’t always gonna be so easy, kid.” He mirrors you, standing up straight, leaning down slightly to make his point, “there’s gonna be a mission for each of us that we can’t come back from, you know that, right?” It’s almost threatening, the way his red eyes bore into your white eye-covers. He watches your chest deflate a little at the comment, a pang of remorse runs through him for saying it in such a harsh way. Truly, he just wanted you to be aware of the risks here, the sacrifice that you may be called to make one day. Each of them was expected to lay their life down for the greater good, and he wasn’t exempt from that, either. In his mind, he was offering you an out, a second chance to save your own hide if that’s what you really wanted, before taking on such a lofty responsibility. You jump a little when you hear the door slide open behind you, “jeez, Miguel, as pleasant as ever, aren’t’ya?” It’s the Peter that came with you, “Mayday is asleep-” who? “-Why d’ya always try to scare the new kids, don’t you think she’s proved herself enough?” He looks at you with a warm smile, the kind a father would wear as their kid rounded home for the first time, “I think you killed it, kiddo, don’t let him take the wind from yer sails. I was impressed,” you feel your cheeks heat up at his blatant praise and mumble a sweet thank-you, absent-mindedly kicking a pretend pebble as he claps a warm hand on your shoulder. He doesn’t stop, “why don’t you take your mask off and breathe a little, huh? It must feel terrible in there after the long day,” you can tell he’s being genuine when he asks, bending down to stare right into your mask with a slight tilt of the head, but you can’t help the itch on your forehead when the mask isn’t there, especially thinking about having to make direct eye contact with O’Hara.  He cuts in, “she says she’s more comfortable with it on, Peter.”  “Well, that sounds like a lie, she’s probably just terrified of you, chief. Especially when you go around making threats like that on a debrief.” They carry on like you’re not standing right there. “It’s not my fault if I want them to be aware of the risks, Pete.” How informal of him, using a pet-name, you think. “Yeah, well, the least you can do is thank’em for once. Not everything has to be so life and death. It’s no wonder our turnover is so bad, I have to wonder what our unemployment payout looks like.” They’re not stopping, you really consider making a quick escape while the two men, obviously very good friends based on Peter’s razzing, carry on talking over your head.  “I want to think you’re joking but-” “Tax fraud is no joke, ‘El, you know that.”  You’re…Uncomfortable now, he was right, your mask was kind of stifling after working so hard to have a no-loss mission, there’s still sweat dripping down the back of your neck as the two of them chirp on and on, back and forth. The heat from all the monitors has your vision swimming a little and you start to get a light headed trying to keep up, eventually heaving a heavy sigh of your own. A small, shaking hand makes quick work as you tilt your head down, hair messy as you shake your head, finally getting a good breath of fresh air from outside your protection. Both men stop mid-sentence and stare.  Peter is the first to speak up, not missing a beat but teasing as ever, “there she is, as pretty as ever,” he’s smiling-still. “Feels better, right? Don’t worry about it, we all know how to keep a secret kid, you’re safe here, with us.”  O’Hara just lets a heavy breath fall from his nose and turns away from the two of you, “I have work to finish, Peter, can you get some food for the two of you, please? Consider it a celebration, since you’re so keen on rewarding everyone for just doing their damn job.”  Peter mumbles something as he steps behind you, guiding you with hands on your shoulders, pushing you a little from your spot in the middle, “yeah, yeah, come on.” His head snakes around to smile at you again, “not to brag, but the food here is amazing.” 

It’s quiet after you leave and let the door slide shut, Miguel takes a shaky breath in, and out. He couldn’t help the pang of...jealously? Remorse, maybe, that he couldn’t be the one to tell you that you were safe with them, reassure you, tease you the way Peter was so confident in doing. The way your rosy cheeks looked so pretty, like Pete had said, plays over in his head time and time again for much longer than he’s proud of. He wanted you to know you were safe with him. At the end of it all, he wanted to make sure you were safe.  He’d seen you on his monitors for weeks before calling you to help them, walking around your New York in your street clothes. When Jess had caught him staring at you with such a heavy scowl, he’d said he just wanted to make sure you were keeping it above the wire, doing his due diligence to make sure he wasn’t hiring some loose-lipped kid. She only smiled at her feet, seeing right through his little lie. 

He was even more curt with you after you became comfortable enough to venture the halls without your mask, usually late at night when you knew less folks were around, but pluck his eyes from his skull before he admitted to the dull ache his ability to give you comfort enough to be maskless gave. He really did try to be more inviting with you, even briefly considering taking you on a more risky mission with himself and Jess. Of course, the anxiety that bubbled dashed any hope of one-on-one time in the field. He’d ask you about your canon events, trying to find a way to connect with you. However tight-lipped he was, you were moreso. Mumbling a quiet affirmative or negative, then steering the conversation back to work, against his best efforts. He thought it must feel that way with him, sometimes, when folks try to talk with him. He found himself missing your wry jokes, not as jovial as the run-of-the-mill spider, still keeping a shred perspective on your life of sacrifice. He, of course, knew all of your canon events, he could lay them out by dates and times if he wanted, he’d spent more time than he’d ever admit to on his little…Obsession with you.  It worried him, how fond of your company he’d become in the short time you were helping him. He was really trying to connect, honestly, but every time it felt like he was putting his hand on a hot-plate, and every time he was reminded of what his job meant - sacrifice. And God himself couldn’t convince him of the idea of sacrificing you for this chosen life.  He, as a result, decided to pull back. Treat this as a little passing fancy, maybe you just reminded him of being young again, careless, caution to the wind and so on. 

Months trickled by, trying his best to get you to smile at him despite his resolve to let it all go, to hear your laugh at least once was all he needed to get through his day, it seemed. He was embarrassed, in all reality, he was still technically your boss, no matter how informal that seemed in the walls of the citadel.  “-well, at least that’s what I thought, but Hobie said she was quite the up-and-comer.” He tried to listen to you, but the way you licked your lips made his skin tingle, “I may swing by and meet her, he seems super excited.” You’re leaning over his desk while you talk, Miguel had lost the plot, though. “As excited as someone like him can be, y’know.” “Yeah, send out the welcome wagon, no?” He smiles a little, typing away at some code that needed fixing.  “Ha - well, it’s not like you’re one to do it, you’ll scare her off like a wolf would a hare.” You’re staring at the screen when his fingers stop, hovering over the keys like he’d lost his train of thought, “what’s that supposed to mean?” He turned to face you, eyeing you with a heavy scrutiny, as he was wont to do. “No, nothing bad, I guess. You’re just so dramatic sometimes, it’s weird until you get to know ya’.” There’s a chuckle hidden between the words spilling from your mouth, he wonders if you realize how much he loves when you tease him. It makes him feel more human, less isolated.  “I’m just making sure they all kn-”  “-All know the risks involved, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. I think you’re just pretending so no one knows you’re a big softy.” His fingers haven't moved from above the keys. He leans back in his chair, his straight back finally relaxing a little, “and where do you get off thinking you can talk to me like that, kid?” There’s a stark lack of actual annoyance in his voice, a few months ago, you’d think he was actually offended you’d speak to him that way, but the keen look in his red eyes betrays him these days. “I think Peter is starting to rub off on you.” You laugh a little and smack his shoulder, “someone’s gotta keep you in check around here, right? He can’t shoulder all the burden of your grumpy ass!” You’re smiling down at him, having moved at some point to lean closer. He feels the tips of his ears heat up a little.  “Yeah, well, tell anyone and I’ll have to do somethin’ about it, kid.” You’re a little surprised at him, in the best way. He’s got a full smile, just like the one he wore when you told him about the dryer sheet below your mask, your cheeks heat up and you move to hop off the platform, “hey” a finger pokes at his shoulder -  “don’t start writin’ checks there, boss, or I’ll have to ask you to cash’em some day.” You don’t turn around to face him as you continue, “it’s our secret, I guess. For now, at least.” You pull your mask back over your head as you walk out the heavy door.

He groans a little as the door slides shut, leaving him in the soft hum of all of his monitors - he doesn’t finish the line of code before he shoves himself away from his desk and starts the long trek back to his own private room for the night.

a/n: big man said feelings are for dummys. Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 4-

[lbcreations-blog]

Husker, Charlie, and angel (seperate) with a teen reader who’s often found hanging around the hotel, not because they’re a sinner looking to rehabilitate (they’re hellborn) but just cuz they’re bored and want some entertainment. Overtime husker, Charlie and angel have become older familial figures and really close to reader. So what if reader comes to them one day and admits the real reason they’re always at the hotel is bc they’re being sexually abused at home? Sorry if you don’t feel comfortable with this, I’m honestly feeling a but uncomfortable requesting it but the comfort is much needed

If ya don’t wanna write this it’s ok just let me know pls

Auther note to requester: Of course, I'll write this, I also need comfort on this stuff, so yea. I had a bit of a writers block, and this is also not my best work, which I apologize for. Plus, I apologize for this coming out so late.

I have no idea why husks section is so short😭

All plotonic

Gn reader

The reader is shorter than Angel and Charlie and the same height as husk, btw

TW: slight descriptions of injuries and mentions of signs of struggle

Masterlist

No one should hurt someone like this

You loved hanging around at the hotel. You enjoying the chaos of the residents

You were there basically every day

You got very close to the bartender at the hotel

Husk was like an acutel father to you

He would always talk to you. Sometimes, he would show you magic tricks, and you loved it

One day, you seemed so sad

So Husk decided to wait until everyone's out of the lobby and ask what's up

Once, you had the courage to tell him he got angry at the ones who were supposed to raise you and nurture you.

But before he would do anything to the ones at your so-called 'home' he would comfort you

It might be a bit awkward, but he would do his best

He might even ask Charlie to let you stay at the hotel as an official resident

After comforting you, he would wait for the day he beats the ones who hurt you assess

Charlie was confused as to why you would hang around at the hotel for you being hellborn like her

But she let you stay thinking that even you, a hellborn, was supporting her hotel

After a while of being at the hotel, you and Charlie bonded quite nicely

She was like a super cool, bubbly, older sister to you

Compared to basically everyone in hell, you generally vibed with her, for some reason

Now, one day, you just weren't at the hotel

And then the next day

And the one after that

Now Charlie was worried, so she got the forms that tells where everybody lives and makes her way over to your adobe

Charlie walked up to your door and knocked the knocker three times.

No answer

After waiting for two minutes, she knocked three times once again.

Again no answer

She knocked with the knocker against the door one more time, but to no avail.

No answer

Charlie knew you were in your house she could sense your aroa, and your aroa felt hurt, so she knew she knew that had to do one thing and one thing only.

Go into your house without your permission.

She had to go in to make sure you were ok. So she tried to go into your house. But the door was locked. So she unlocked the door with her powers and stepped inside, and goodness, the place looks terrible. The couch was flipped in the lounge, and other signs off struggle was obvious.

Charlie walked around the house carefully in case someone else was lurking in the house. After a while, she found herself in front of a door with your name on it. This was definitely your room. She opened your door with caution, and...

There was you.

On the floor.

Sitting there with your hands covering your face.

There were bruises on your body, and you were quietly sobbing.

Charlie gasped upon the sight that was displayed in front of her. You looked up at her. You looked, so... terrified. And Charlie hated it so much. She quickly rushed to your side and softly hugged you so as not to hurt you more.

"Hey, hey," Charlie said in a soft voice. "Are you badly hurt? And do you know who hurt you?"

"I-" you sobbed softly.

"Hey. Hey, it's OK, it's OK, take your time," Charlie told you in the most comforting voice she could muster.

"The, ones I live with, did this to me" you told her in between sniffles.

Charlie was angered on this fact but stayed with you and tried to keep her calm. All she knew was that she would make sure those assholes would be dealt with, biological or not, no one hurts her younger sibling.

Angel Dust, the porn star

A tricky fella per-say

How did you become friends? It's hard to say

But for me and everyone else, you are like 12 - 14 in his version, and since you are oh so young, he doesn't talk about that stuff around you, like he might cuse but that's cause everyone does that

Anyway, now you both are pretty close, maybe you both like to dress up to together or smthn

After a while, you kinda start feeling like Angel is your older brother like yall have so much fun together

So since you veiw him as such, you felt as if you should share something you think he'll know about, even though it's supposed to be a secret

You softly knocked on Angel's bedroom door. "Hey Angel, it's me, Y/N," the door opened to show Angel. "Oh Heya kid, how'ya been?" Angel asked you. "Oh, ok, I guess... hey, uhm, I wanna talk to you in your room." You told the sinner with an uncomfortable face.

"Uh, alright com'n in kid," he said, moving out of the way off the door. You both sat down on his couch. "So what's been troubling, you kid?" Angel asked you. "Uhm, well, I'll just show you." You said as you brought your turtleneck down. Once Angel realized what he was seeing, he was shocked, angry, and just sad.

There was a hikey on your neck. "Uhm, Angel, do you know what this is?" You asked him, but instead of getting a response back.

You got a hug.

A very nice and warm one.

Sooner or later, Angel was gonna kill those basstards that hurt you.

Taglist: @fatherlesschild2 @whitewingsh @iheartpieck @i-yuki @ilovemyths2003 @im-so-tired52 @yuuandtheghost

Taglist request section

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

"when strangers mistake me for his father i don't correct them" just break my goddamn heart why don't you. i love this and the rest of your art so so SO much and i'm dying to hear more of your thoughts on tintin and haddock's father-son/chaotic uncle-nephew dynamic, because it's one thing i wish had been developed further in canon, especially with tintin's move to marlinspike hall

Haddock and Tintin invented the found family trope! Their dynamic means so much to me, while my post canon series seems to be about Tintin and Chang's relationship it's actually more about Tintin and Haddock's found family bond and how it changes as Tintin grows older.

My thoughts on their dynamic are under the cut. It's Fathers' Day in the UK this Sunday, so happy Fathers' Day!

Haddock had a terrible childhood and has low self esteem, but values his ability as a sailor. Even that is shaken when his crew mutinies and kidnaps a teenager. As a result Haddock feels an enormous sense of guilt and responsibility for Tintin

He looks up to Tintin a lot, he inspires Haddock to always strive to be better!

He doesn't understand what Tintin sees in him but Tintin's positivity easily outshines any doubts about their friendship. Tintin brings that childlike wonder Haddock missed out on in his own childhood. Haddock goes out of his way to do stuff with Tintin he never got to do with his father, like going to the theatre or trips to the seaside.

Initially Tintin tolerates Haddock, but he proves himself with his sailing prowess in The Shooting Star. While Tintin is brave and proactive he's very introverted and closed off from people, having gained dangerous enemies at such a young age.

At first he's not used to having someone look out for him but grows to deeply appreciate Haddock. A colleague at work said Haddock is like that one middle aged guy you befriend at a job you got as a teenager and you become ride or die with through trauma bonding and I think he's exactly right!

Even though he's his best friend Tintin still keeps him at a distance. Haddock doesn't know his legal name or anything about his past. Tintin rarely opens up about personal problems out of fear of worrying him.

As Haddock has pinned so much of his self worth on Tintin, in my post canon series Haddock is forced to re-examine his friendship with him.

Haddock gets into a secret romantic relationship with Ramo Nash and gets some well earned down time from adventures, taking up painting as a hobby. It's the first time he's had time to find himself outside of being Tintin's adventuring companion, and realises he may have to make the painful decision between his best friend or staying true to himself. It's a decision he knew he had to make for a long time.

Haddock invites Chang to live in Marlinspike during his year as an exchange student in hopes he'll keep Tintin out of trouble. When Chang ends up joining in on the adventures instead Haddock is taken aback by how competent he is, and how seemingly effortlessly he is able to keep up with Tintin. Watching a younger fitter person does bring up some insecurities in him, but he later appreciates that this means he could sometimes take a break and let Chang go get shot at instead!

Tintin's tendency to keep his personal problems to himself drives a rift between them as he desperately tries to navigate coming to terms with being gay. Even though homosexuality was legal in Belgium at the time there's still a stigma, and Haddock and Tintin are terrified of losing each other's respect.

When Haddock finds out Tintin is also gay he is overjoyed, he vows to look out and to always be a safe haven for him. He grew up in fear and in the closet, so is determined to be the father figure he never had himself.

Haddock is very supportive of Tintin and Chang, but as Tintin grows closer to Chang and spends more time with him Haddock can't help but feel a little insecure. It's normal for parental figures to feel that way.

As Haddock grows older and less physically able to travel, Tintin worries if his deteriorating health is his fault. Haddock makes sure to nip this fear in the bud, and lets him know how proud he is of what they were able to do. As Haddock settles into retirement with Ramo, Tintin and Chang visit frequently to help take care of them.

Haddock never officially adopts Tintin despite everything, just in case the Haddock family curse still persists. Also "Tintin Haddock" is an absolutely awful sounding name.

Neither Haddock or Tintin can stand spiders. They get Nestor or Calculus to deal with that

imagine All of Tintin's Father Figures in a group chat in a modern AU, Haddock, Calculus, Skut, Mr Wang, Ramo Nash... The Council of Dads (Castafiore is in it too, she counts)

[mintartem]

It seems if Adam gets over Lucifer and Lilith or Lucy when he was an angel and Eden he becomes jealous 

So Jealous, Lucifer two Azriel x Adam

It’s been a while since he talked to Adam or spoken to him even I mean, the quietness is great and he gets to spend time more with his precious Lily, but not really like Adam to just vanish usually his looking for them and honestly, Lucy miss it

Lucy was looking around Eden searching for the first man himself. Something was different about Adam something changed he couldn’t tell what.

Then Lucy heard laughing he heard it from the trees he said of course Adam is probably getting some fruit then he said that Lucifer flew over there When he got too he’s destination he went with one of the trees to see what was Adam doing, but what he saw wasn’t what he thought  it would be 

Adam wasn’t alone he was with his brother Azriel with no malice to his brother, he fought he would probably stay away from eden, , knowing that he is the angel of death but seen how Adam is with his brother he’s prefers him stay away. He doesn’t know why but the father of Adam being happy with someone else makes him angry.

and when Lucifer pay attention more to see what they were doing, it looked like Adam was teaching Azriel how to dance !

Come on Azriel why are you so scared of dancing they’re just moving your feet I am aware of that. Adam is just I am not a good dancer come on. You can’t be as terrible as Lucy being frank honest with you, Adam, I think my brother is a better dancer than me oh come on don’t say that just give it a chance all right but I can’t promise anything perfect well I wasn’t looking for perfection. I was looking for having fun. Well, I can’t argue with that point can I know you cannot my friend

As they said that Adam move his feet and Azriel as removed his feet getting into a rhythm until Adam stepped on Azriel cloaked and trip, taking Azriel with him they both fell off the ground. And they started laughing. I told you that was a terrible idea. Oh, come on you couldn’t say you didn’t have fun doing it right all right I had fun doing see was it that hard to admit he seems not my friend and they continue laughing about the whole thing that just happened

Lucifer was still near the tree hidden. He didn’t like what he saw. He didn’t like the fact that Adam could talk to Azriel so easy instead of him shouldn’t have been him and this shouldn’t have been him that Adam was teaching to dance, not Azriel 

And Lucifer fall about it some more Azriel shouldn’t even be here he’s the beacon of death, and Adam should be terrified of him. He doesn’t care how much ranking his brother has. He shouldn’t be here knowing his place, knowing that he brings death to everything that he holds, dear he shouldn’t be here, but Lucifer had nothing to do because of his ranking he couldn’t touch his brother or Adam but knowing that Adam was having more fun with his death of a brother made him angry 

OK, that’s all. Hope you like it 





This is so cute! Adam and Azrael dancing, whether they’re good dancers or not, is so cute and heartwarming! I also love jealous Lucifer!

Why must you be jealous, Lucifer? You already have Lilith. Let your brother have Adam! Azrael is a sweet guy! Lucifer is seeing what he’s missing out on.

I actually had to search who Azriel is (incase Azrael and Azriel are different characters) and found out it’s another name for Azrael.

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

Syndrome K, the Fake Disease that Saved Hundreds of Lives

In 1943, three doctors in an Italian hospital weaponized the fear of disease, but not to cause harm. Instead, they used it to save some of the most vulnerable people in Italy at times: the Jews.

“Syndrome K” was a fake disease invented by Italian doctors Adriano Ossicini, Giovanni Borromeo, and Vittorio Emanuele Sacerdoti to protect Jewish patients and refugees during World War II.

By September 1943, Benito Mussolini’s fascist regime had fallen and Nazi forces were occupying Italy. Things were looking especially dire in Rome, where residents of the Jewish ghetto were being captured in large numbers and sent to concentration camps.

There was a Jewish hospital in the city, but it was a clear target for the Nazi occupiers.

Less of a target was Fatebenefratelli Hospital. Fatebenefratelli, a Catholic hospital, had stood for hundreds of years. Being a Catholic hospital, it was less of a concern for the Nazis.

Little did they know that three heroes who worked in Fatebenefratelli were determined to help the persecuted Jews in any way they could.

Tensions for Jews living in Rome were already high in 1943. To keep Jewish patients safe, Dr. Vittorio Sacerdoti asked permission to start transferring them from the Jewish hospital to Fatebenefratelli.

Sacerdoti got the approval for his plan from Borromeo and Father Bialek, and he slowly began to transfer the Jewish patients over.

Things reached a fever pitch on October 16, 1943, when Nazi forces began a raid on the nearby Jewish ghetto. Fleeing their homes, the Jewish residents crossed the Tiber River bridge, arriving at Tiber Island and the sanctuary of Fatebenefratelli Hospital.

Having to act quickly, Borromeo brought the refugees into his hospital and swiftly put them in quarantine. Dr. Borromeo and the other doctors were aware that Nazis were terrified of infectious diseases–understandably so, with how prevalent tuberculosis was at the time.

With their Jewish patients hidden in quarantine, Borromeo, Sacerdoti, and anti-fascist doctor Adriano Ossicini devised a genius plan–a fake disease to scare the Nazis away from the Jews in the hospital.

Playing on that fear of disease–tuberculosis specifically–Syndrome K came into existence.

It was Dr. Adriano Osscini who first suggested the name “Syndrome K”. The thought behind the name was that the Nazis would assume the “K” stood for “Koch disease”, another name for tuberculosis.

Tuberculosis, a debilitating obstructive pneumonia, had been discovered by Dr. Robert Koch, hence its alternative name.

In reality, Osscini drew inspiration not just from Dr. Koch, but also chose the name to represent two of the worst perpetrators of violence against the Roman Jews–Luftwaffe officer Albert Kesselring and the head of German police in Rome, Herbert Kappler.

From that moment forward, the label “Syndrome K” would be put on Jewish refugee’s charts to indicate to other doctors that the patient wasn’t actually sick. Instead, they were a Jew in hiding.

Syndrome K needed more than just a name to be intimidating, though. In order to keep the Nazi investigators at a distance, Syndrome K needed to be more than scary–it needed to be terrifying.

The list of symptoms that the doctors would attribute to the fictional Syndrome K would be enough to give anyone pause. They ranged from a terrible cough to paralysis, and an eventual, unavoidable death.

Here is a list of symptoms associated with Syndrome K:

● Dementia

● Seizures and convulsions

● Paralysis

● Trouble breathing leading to asphyxiation

● Death  

When asked about the disease, the Fatebenefratelli doctors would tell the Nazis that Syndrome K was an incredibly contagious neurological disease with no cure. This was why the patients had to be kept in a strict quarantine.

When Nazi investigators did make it into the hospital, the supposed sufferers of Syndrome K were instructed to fake a terrible, loud, wheezing cough to imitate tuberculosis. They were also told to intentionally appear frail and ill.

Although the Catholic Fatebenefratelli Hospital had drawn less attention than the nearby Jewish hospital, they wouldn’t expect to go unnoticed forever. Eventually, the Nazis appeared at the hospital doors and demanded to search the facility for any Jews.

By this time, all of the staff at Fatebenefratelli had been briefed on the Syndrome K medical deception.

The Jewish people suffering from the fake illness were also familiar with the part they had to play–pretending to be devastatingly sick with something contagious.

Borromeo and the rest of his staff were forced to admit the Nazis, but their plan went off without a hitch.

Upon being told about the mysterious Syndrome K and both hearing and seeing the ill patients in quarantine, the Nazis balked at the idea of getting any closer. Above all else, they didn’t want to risk infection with something as terrible as they believed Syndrome K to be.

“The Nazis thought it was cancer or tuberculosis, and they fled like rabbits,” Vittorio Sacerdoti would say.

Of course, this wasn’t the last time the Nazis were supposed to search the premises of Fatebenefratelli Hospital. Amazingly, fear of the fictional Syndrome K, known as Il Morbo di K by the Italian doctors, didn’t just keep the Nazi visits brief. 

On multiple occasions, it was noted that the Nazis skipped searching in and around Fatebenefratelli altogether because of Syndrome K, even when they were actively searching other nearby areas.  

Unfortunately, the solution wasn’t a perfect one. In the spring of 1944, five Jewish refugees from Poland were discovered during a rare search of the hospital. All five of them were taken away.

Despite this setback, the Syndrome K ruse was incredibly successful. While exact numbers vary, it’s thought that the doctors and staff of Fatebenefratelli Hospital managed to save around 100 Jewish lives.

[mysterycitrus]

your roy snippet was sooo good!! i love how you brought together his perspective on 17 yr/o dick both as an adult and as a father. when we’re older, we tend to be more aware of the true nature of the things we experience, especially when it comes to a traumatic event. we’re able to better understand when something that happened to us or a loved one was wrong, which only gets emphasized when someone becomes a parent. you convey that really well in the snippet, including the guilt that roy feels for not realizing that that’s what dick was experiencing at the time. can’t wait to read the full thing, and i hope you write more roy stories in the future!

there’s a kind of quiet, profound horror that stems from being an adult forced to retroactively understand all the terrible things u endured as a child…. so im glad i captured that for u!! the entire point of the fic is a depiction of dick grayson the person vs dick grayson the performance, and how he’s perceived by others. the idea of a thirty year old meeting a seventeen year old and seeing how he’s been hurt by adults because u have that insight now, etc

persephone was drafted as a mixed pov fic rather that being solely from dicks perspective — which is where the roy snippet came from — something im really glad i changed. his narration is unreliable because his views of the world are fundamentally flawed, something that the people around him are capable of recognising, but he is not. roy as an adult and can now reflect on past events with a new perspective. he’s a father, and his daughter is the same age as dick was when he lost his parents. he thinks about the vast network of people ready to die for lian, and the total absence of love and support dick had in the wake of his own grief. that’s horrifying.

we as the audience know what dicks like as an adult, and that he survived this grief and continued to survive worse, but seeing him this young and grappling with this much pain… u gotta be in his skull got that. contrasting dick’s understanding of what’s happening — that he fundamentally failed bruce and his parents, that he’s still unable to stand up for himself, that the robin name has been bastardised and used to kill children, that he’s inextricably tied to gotham, is debilitating. he is so, so ashamed of himself.

but he also doesn’t understand why no one else sees it that way. after their argument, wally leaves because he’s terrified of causing more harm and linda has to deescalate. they’re running interference on bruce to keep him away at all costs. getting even a peak into someone else’s head puts it into perspective — they’re all grieving for him, and they do not find him wanting.

[qqueenofhades]

bless u for the comprehensive answer to my last question, it is much appreciated! And sincere apologies for coming off as defeatist - you're absolutely right that, at the end of the day, the most important thing is working as hard as we can to make sure trump loses the general election. What this really clarifies for me is that my focus should be on the elections, and that I should file the judicial process under "interesting, could be useful, but will never be a silver bullet". Thank you again!

You're welcome, and I think it's most useful to think of it like this: we need to do our job (defeating Trump in 2024) so Jack Smith's job (indicting the fucker up the wazoo) will stick. We hear endless punditry and hand-wringing about how Trump will just cancel the charges if he wins, and that's often presented as some kind of terrible foregone conclusion that we will only avert by dumb luck, if we do at all. And yet, for some funny reason, we never hear about the flip side: i.e. if Trump loses, he's fucked. He will have no more reason to delay, no last-minute Hail Mary play, nothing to stop him from standing trial, being convicted, and going to jail, and that's exactly why he and the rest of the fascist criminals are throwing everything at the election. It is his last shot.

Honestly, I don't want people complacently thinking that the indictments will do the work for them and get rid of Trump -- because they will, but only if we do our job first and pound that motherfucker into the ground in 2024. I don't want anything to take away from the importance of doing everything we can to help Biden win in 2024 -- voting, volunteering, donating, talking to friends and family, you name it. We NEED to do that work so that Trump is out of miraculous golden parachutes and is left to face the consequences. And if he does (again, please God) lose, at least this time he is not the sitting American president and does not have the full resources of the federal government to attempt a coup. In that sense, if you want to see Trump properly, completely brought to justice, it's so easy:

Support the indictments

Vote for Biden in 2024

Do everything to make sure Trump loses

The end.

It's really that easy. Because as noted, if we do our part and Trump loses the election, he is fucked. That's really all there is to it.

We are in uncharted territory here because the founding fathers were eighteenth-century Enlightenment rationalists, and while they obviously did not trust a king and built in all kinds of checks and balances to prevent the president from BEING a king, they also imagined that whoever held the job would at least make a good-faith effort to follow the rules. Besides, the best-designed political system in the world would still be vulnerable to someone like Trump, who gleefully and sociopathically wrecks all norms and precedents however he pleases. That's why there isn't technically a law on the books preventing someone in prison from running for president, because the founding fathers were operating under the idea that people in American government would at least try, however badly, to perform the functions of American government. Trump doesn't. He doesn't give a shit about that. He's willing to take the whole country down in flames if it saves him personally from consequences, and while our institutional guardrails (barely) held last time, they've already said that a second Trump term would involve wrecking all of those, because he is a tinpot narcissistic psychopath dictator wannabe. And yes, it's terrifying, and yes, too many people didn't learn from 2016, and all the rest, but still:

If you want to see the fucker go to jail and reap the consequences of his actions, make sure he loses the 2024 election. That's what you need to focus on. Do that, and the rest of it will come after. So yeah.

[emocl0wnpp]

Finally i had time to write the LJ headcanon post..or well my "LJ rewrite"...so here it is!

My LJ rewrite/headcanons!!

( I'll try to leave my oc x canon stuff out of here as much as i can)

🎪

Basics:

Name: Laughing Jack or LJ (or Jackie if you're very close with him)

Age: probably over 200,but in human years honestly no idea-

Gender: AGENDER/GENDERLESS LJ PROPAGANDA!! (He presents as male and refers to himself as one,but technically he can be anything)

Pronouns: honest to god he doesn't care,but since Issac called him a boy,he uses he/him,but otherwise he don't give a fuck

Sexuality: bisexual

Height: 225cm/ 7"3

Twins with Laughing Jill(he's younger by like 10 minutes,Jill treats that as 10 years)

Idk how to list this but he's british🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧

🎪

Personality:

Honest to god i don't remember his canon personality💀💀

Basically,he's a jerk. A little dipshit who will cause trouble with his tricks and pranks,especially if he doesn't like you. At first glance he's quite mean and sarcastic,buuut if he finds you cool enough/gets attached he's a whole different person(totally not projecting onto him rn)

Once he actually likes someone enough to consider them a friend,he's much kinder and sweeter.

He's pretty caring actually

He will hold back on his mean and sarcastic comments..unless you're into that

He tries ANYTHING to keep his friends close,literally anything. Magic tricks,jokes,drowning them with candy and affection,tieing them up in his circus so they can't leave,the usual things

He has trouble understanding emotions in general,especially other people's,and has trouble managing his own,ESPECIALLY his anger and saddness

Terrible,horrible abandonment and attachment issues

He's very impulsive,he usually does/says things without thinking them through first(again totally not projecting)

I'll dare to say that my version of LJ has Borderline personality disorder

Idk if this counts to personality or no but my man is touch starved. Touch him once and he won't let go of you

🎪

Other important stuff idk how to categorize:

Scratches himself a lot,especially when he's uncomfortable or nervous...and since he has sharp claws they leave marks(that's why his arms and stomach are wrapped up)

Used to be ashamed of his freckles so he covered them up with makeup(not anymore tho :3)

His favourite candies are lollipops

Dark humor is his favourite thing in the world

my man can stretch his limbs as long as possible,comes in handy when he's lazy to get up to grab something

His british accent comes out when he talks too fast

Throws around medival knight words for fun/to annoy others

He has a circus :^D

And in that circus he has little ghost kids running around(he won't admit but he's kinda like a father figure to them)

He has a little doll collection at his circus

He mostly kills kids between the ages of 10 and above,unless the kid is like extra annoying or something

Like i mentioned before,he's terrified of abandonment

Claustrophobia. Specifically he's terrified of small spaces(thanks to being locked in a small box for god knows how long)

Also fight me but he has a small fear of the dark,mostly in small spaces

🎪

Design/looks:

CONFETTI FRECKLES!!!

Like a lot of them all over his face and body

He has a little mole under his left eye

Scars on his stomach and arms(mentioned above)

His nose can bend (and it goes limp when he's sad/j)

His tongue is long af and is striped

Now that i mentioned stripes he has some on his arms

Used to wear his hair in a low ponytail,but after some time he just stopped caring about his hair..and himself in general

Okay this one involves a bit of oc x canon but hear me out, he was very lanky and skinny,but after meeting Claws he got a bit thicker and more muscular

Small matching tattoo with Claws!!

(For those who find this post before any of my other posts Claws is my creepypasta oc-)

I'll add more pictures of my design for him but i don't have much yet--

Aaaand I can't add any backstory related stuff cuz haven't really changed anything yet-

But i'll edit this post if anything else comes to mind!!

[angelofverdum]

Station 19 S07e10

19!

I'm overwhelmed by feelings. It's amazing how much fictional characters can make you feel.

My hope and wish for the end of these characters was for them to have a resolution and be happy.

Honestly, I can't complain. Maybe I should wait for the excitement to die to write anything about it.

But I love the ending for every character. I loved how they incorporated these "dreams" into the action scenes.

Andy as Chief is a great resolution for her. Jack being her true love was not something I was expecting. I feel it was something they pulled out at the last minute, and don't get me wrong I'm not opposed to it, Andy and Jack could have worked if they had more seasons and Grey wouldn't have left.

Ross. I'd hoped Natasha had something more in mind than marrying Bob but she is always being "My man My man My man" so it's fitting

Robert. One thing I loved about these flashforwards was that they were connected. Sully dreamed of that because in Ross's dream, they were already married, so he got to be with her.

Travis's most important relationship is with Vic. If I had Vic as a friend, I'd be like that too. Uprooting your life like that to move with your best friend is really brave.

Warren is probably my least favorite character but that's because he is boring but he is a good man. I was emotional watching his kids all grow.

Beckett is so unserious because why is he dreaming of Ross' sister.

Vic. She made me cried because she deserves everything that it's good in life. I'm so so so happy she didn't end up with Theo. She is helping people and living her best life. My beautiful queen.

Carina's dream is so important bc she had no one, her brother and mom died, and her father is trash. She was alone and then met this stubborn firefighter and said I want a big family with her, and that's what she did. Bring her back to Grey's you cowards.

Maya. My sweet beautiful, reckless, bisexual, hot, brave, selfless, stubborn, broken Maya. Her future was so bright without clouds. She falls asleep thinking about her wife and three kids. Maya who made me come back for season 2, and here I am seven seasons later, just a mess of emotion.

When I saw Carina enter that bar, it took me a whole ass minute to realize what they were trying to do. Why Carina was there. I'll never forget that excitement and I'll always be thankful for pairing them.

It's so weird to see that kind of representation. We didn't need coming out stories or the usual homophobia. Also, they were proud bisexuals and I'm always thankful that Maya said that with her whole chest. That was so important.

Now, my random thoughts about the episode.

I love the scene with the aluminum thing. That was cool and terrifying.

I loved it when Andy showed up. I was crying like she rescued me.

Danielle is so bad at screaming, her voice cracked up so much.

I loved Maya worried about Andy

I loved Carina suiting up finally. It was so funny.

I loved that we got to see adult Prue, and my god the legacy she is carrying.

I loved to see Andy as chief and Maya as captain.

I loved Carina doing what she preaches. Like Maya my god make yourself useful and give that woman an orgasm.

I'm not a fan of the Deluca-Bishop name tag because I just don't like hyphenating last names in general but I think it is cute they did that little detail for the fans who have really been asking for it.

Now for the last scene, keep in mind, that I've been crying the whole episode. Then this hit

I just laughed out loud. Omg, those are some terrible wigs. What was the point? What were they trying to achieve? To make them look older?

You should have put some gray hair and move it along. Like why they were having a bob off. Why would you do that to them?

Let me clean my eyes with Maya's real bob and the hottest she looked in the show.

Anyway, I'm always thankful when I get to experience a TV show so deeply. Even tho the cancellation is unfair. At least we got a proper ending.

I'm also glad that we got actors who cared deeply about their characters and respected them so much.

I'm a mess but 19 forever.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Was musing on the "Aware of Abuse" AU for the Sad Rich Kids Trio and ho it influences their behavior, or how their perspective has shifted, from least to most detailed:

Adrien: He is not overtly super different, in canon he was already expressing frustration with his father and ducking out from under his control to do what he wanted.

The main shift is rooted in his perspective. Namely that if his father does love him (Doubt) then his love is so toxic Adrien wants no part of it. He deems any concession Gabriel makes suspicious at best and deems any lingering affection on his own part as a childish thing he needs to outgrow.

Beyond that he's simply more blunt, he doesn't make excuses for his father and is a bit more aware of how the other kids parenting sucks. This ironically may actually make it harder for he & Marinette as she'd struggle to see what was wrong early on and presume him kind of a brat or rude for disrespecting his father so much.

Kagami: As one might expect given how heavily controlling and authoritive Tomoe is, Kagami has very little wiggle room to openly defy her or act differently without risking being trapped or extremely harsh punishment,

As a result the shift is more in subtle things and how she communicates and views the relationship. Namely, she does not love her mother and only pays lip service to respecting anything other than her material skills as a combatant. She also feels that given what her mother does to her is largely indistinguishable from hatred (The physical nature of sparring sessions & training are deeply unpleasant) that Tomoe's feelings don't matter.

Thus she's more overt around others in her disregard for her mother and already prone to trying to sneak off or undercut her. She has burner phones and secret social media accounts for example. In this regard she likely does not become Riposte.

Instead her emotions would be mostly fear of her mothers reaction & anger at the situation and what this costs her in general. Thus she likely turns into something intent on seeking her mother out and attacking her, or otherwise trying to force her mother into her shoes. I had a name for this I think, Aku-Gami? Anyway its basically a signal flare to Adrien & Chloe of "One of us! One of us! One of us!"

Chloe: Like with Adrien her shift would be fairly recent. Mostly in response to the clusterfuck handling of Adrien after Emilie's disappearance & her parents being their worst selves about it. She was on her last thread from keeping Adrien's head above water then being booted and so she explodes at her mother over the phone & rejects her father out of anything but necessity. After which she doubles down because she can't un-dig this hole but she can sure as fuck make it big enough to engulf them all.

Put simply, Chloe's ingrained "Fight" mentality has now been turned on her parents in full. She'd still struggle to articulate most of the things they did wrong, or why they were wrong. But she is angry, rebellious and good at lashing out so she does that and only concedes when she has no other choice or legitimately terrified.

Despite this her changes are less overt, her fight mentality is a survival mechanism like Adrien's people pleasing so she can't just turn it off. She's still been actively taught a lot of terrible things like its moral to cheat to win, & un-learning that is hard, especially if doing so makes you feel weak. & She's been mimicking Audrey since forever, that doesn't just go away over night.

At the same time though she has more freedom than the others & any overt issues she can identify she can try to address for good & ill. Her dad thinks she shouldn't hang around with people "beneath her station" Well screw that she's throwing a party in the ballroom for the class/school before the new school year starts & Adrien can come too.

This likely means she doesn't rip up Rose's letter cos that was like, peak Audrey. She might be tempted to do the social media thing with Kim cos that is something someone might do, but she'd also be more able to apologize for it. She may indeed still lock Juleka in the bathroom, unless they are like, actively friendly at this point.

A lot depends on how well her shifts in behavior are taken by the class as she's not gonna suddenly be super self aware or easy to get along with in many regards. Though given S1 still had Kim get a crush on her & Rose trust her with a letter, I tend to feel it makes more sense that not everyone had a bad impression of Chloe going into the year. So it'd vary.

Regardless, Chloe would be both the most extreme in shift, while keeping a lot of thorns. But she'd be more open to changing in general if able to contextualize a negative reaction as tied to something her parents would do, letting her aggressively reject it. If she feels 'she' was in the right though, she'd not shift her behavior at all but dig in deeper.

Fucking hell I do go on don't I?

Oh I love all of this though!!

[fandomwe1rd0]

Morty is a really tragic character

I'm rewatching the series for like the 10th time, and I'm feeling really bad for Morty, the poor boy went through so much, here's what he goes through in season 1 alone.

Episode 1 ~ Pilot

Suffers from extreme panic from Rick saying he will blow up the world, and is tired due to it also being late at night

Is manhandled by Rick for this entire episode, and Rick is very harsh toward him

Is dragged out of school by Rick

Breaks both of his legs

Stuffs Mega-seeds up his rectum and it is apparently painful due to them being pointy

Is immobilized for hours due to them dissolving in his rectum

Episode 2 ~ Lawnmower Dog

Was about to get punished for something Rick did

Rick snaps at him all because Morty suggested Rick helps him with his homework

Is terrified due to having to avoid getting shot so he doesn't die in real life

Is slapped by Rick while screaming

Is traumatized due to seeing his sister in a...suggestive way

Is terrified due to Scary Terry

Rick embarrasses him in front of girls (Those girls weren't real but still)

His kidneys shut down

His dog leaves

Rick insults him "What do you know Morty? What do you know?"

Episode 3 ~ Anatomy Park

Gets hastily told by Rick to hold his breath until a certain process is over or his lungs will collapse

Is nearly choked by Poncho for no real reason

Is nearly attacked by monsters (multiple times throughout the episode)

Sees mutiple people die (Throughout episode)

Alice taken away from him for Rick's own selfish reasons, Rick doesn't apologize and brushes it off saying he did Morty a favor

Episode 4 ~ M-Night Sha-aliens!

He isn't exactly in this episode, but in an aftercredits scene, Rick holds a knife to Morty's neck while angerily asking him "ARE YOU A SIMULATION!?"

Episode 5 ~ Meeseeks and Destroy

Got traumatized from having to kill people who looked exactly like his family

Rick is very harsh towards him for the majority of the episode

Got assaulted by Mr. Jellybean, narrowly escaped him

Panicked when he saw Mr. Jellybean again

Episode 6 ~ Rick Potion #9

Multiple people fell in love with him and charged at him

Rick is very harsh towards him throughout this episode

A bunch of praying mantis/ vole/ human hybrids talked about how they would like to have sex with him then eat him afterwards

Got traumatized from being forced to bury himself

Episode 7 ~ Raising Gazapazorp

Tried his best to raise a very aggressive, violent son named Morty Jr. then Morty Jr. made a book talking about what a terrible father he was

Episode 8 ~ Rixty Minutes

Actually, not a lot of bad stuff happens to him in this episode, but we see the impact of him burying himself

Episode 9 ~ Something Ricked this Way Comes

Jerry snapped at him 2 times in this episode for no real reason

Jerry embarrassed him in front of a lot of Plutonions

Episode 10 ~ Close Rick Counters with Rick Kind

Got dragged away from his family just because our Rick's Morty (Ik he's technically Rick Prime's Morty but eh)

Got angry at Rick when he found out he was just a human cloaking device

Saw himself in agony

Cried when Rick said "You are a perfect impenetrable suit of human amor Morty because you're as dumb as I am smart. So that's why when I say shut up, it's really good advice."

Got locked in with a bunch of other Mortys

Rick insulted him after Morty saved his life "Ok Morty, don't break an arm jerking yourself off."

Episode 11 ~ Ricksy Business

Tried to convince Rick not to have a party since he'd prefer to keep going on adventures with Rick, but Rick just brushed him off

Worked tirelessly to attempt to keep the house in good shape

Rick dumped people who were annoying him onto Morty

Saw Squancy uh...pleasuring himself in the closet

Saw Abrodolf Lincoler die

Rick got a bunch of people to boo him.

This all happened in season one. This poor dude got constantly insulted and had horrible things happen to him. It's easy to forget that he's only 14 due to all of the stuff that happened to him. A lot of this stuff could be difficult for an adult to handle, I can't image how much mental damage it must do to someone who is only 14. Poor Morty is traumatized, the poor kid deserves all the hugs and kindness in the world and a good family, man.