#i saw like a snippet of it. Did We Get A Next-Day Time Skip. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

addictedtoking · 10 months ago

Text

Snippet of something. Steve and El both came from the lab, season 3 canon divergence thing, kinda angsty. Idk. I tried.

———

“We wrote to each other.”

Billy looks over at El from the third rewind of Grease, waiting for her to continue. “When we were learning, we would write to each other. As practice. He would tell me to have a good day. Or what he was doing.”

She paused, sniffled. Billy offered no comfort; he didn’t know how and she wouldn’t want it. “And I would tell him what was on my mind-“ this time she swallowed and when she spoke again it was wet “and when we were apart we would write letters to read when we got back together and-“ the sob was nasally and so so heart wrenching that Billy wanted her to stop. But she needed to get this out. “And I know he can’t read them but I need to… I need to” she finally looked at him and Billy felt his own eyes turn moist. “I need to tell someone how I feel.”

Billy, yet in the face of such emotion, didn’t let the tears fall down his cheeks. “You could-“ he took a breath “-you could write to me.”

El swallowed and wiped her tears. “You can write to me too.” She looked at the tv again. “It’s good to get it out. That’s what he said.”

Billy nodded, even tho she couldn’t see it. Wiping cheeks from absent tears, he said, “I’ll add that to the list.”

…

It was rough, in the beginning. He was angry and this town was shitty and dad was shitty and Max-

Anyways. The plate. The fight. The drugs. When he woke up the next morning groggy and with Neil yelling down the hall, he had no regrets. Max was home and in fine condition. His face hurt a little, but that’s fine. It’s all fine. Except for when Neil took whatever was bothering him out on him. But that’s fine. It’s not max- the little shit head who doesn’t listen.

He spent the rest of the weekend working out and drinking. By Monday, he was somewhat prepared for high school again. So he sprayed his cologne, gathered the shitbird, and sped off to school.

He had no regrets when he walked into first period. Nor when he skipped second to smoke behind the bleachers. Nor third period. Lunch. Fourth. Fifth. Sixth. Seven-

There, he saw the fallen king, sporting a bruised face and cuts bandaged by pink bandaids with butterflies. The coach was telling him to take the period off. Obviously he had a recovering concussion and needed the break. After all, there’s a black ring around his left eye and his cheek is purple and his lips are split but no less plump-

Billy scored four fouls.

He refused to regret it.

Billy refused to regret a lot of things.

Billy will think he should have regretted more to prepare him for this.

It was bad in the beginning. Now it might be worse.

…

Billy wasn’t all there. He remembered going to work. He remembered driving around in his car. He remembered the warehouse.

Then it’s blurry. There are images. And the beach. And a girl. And Steve-

And then he wakes up in a hospital bed. Max is at his side. Her face is all blotchy and an ugly red from crying, but they’re not close enough for it to be over him.

“Who was it?” He croaks. He wants water.

Max startles, finally noticing him. She blinks like she doesn’t know what he said. He’ll need something to drink before he says it again.

Max gives him water from the cup, eye tearing up again while he sips. A single tear rolls down her cheek and she furiously wipes it away. He would normally sneer at her tears, wrinkled face and spotty flush, but he needs to know who, who died, who did he kill-

“Steve’s gone.”

…

Robin-before-the-Russians thought the worst day of her life was when Tammy Thompson blew her off to try snuggling up to Steve Harrington. Robin-after-the-Russians has had a far worse day.

It’s also Steve Harringtons fault, but not because he stole a girl. No. That would be a concern for Robin-before-the-Russians. This Robin, the one walking up to a bunch of kids, knows this will be the worst day ever. This day will surpass the day her parents discover she’s a lesbian and it will surpass the day she dies.

This terrible day is Steve harringtons fault. Because apparently he’s more than pretty hair and pompous clothing. Because he’s actually a badass that takes down evil monsters with his mind. Because he’s dead.

The kids see her coming towards them, and they look behind her where Steve would be. But he’s not there, so they look back at her. The curly haired one, Dustin, Steve’s best friend, Steve’s brother- sees it in her eyes first. His face crumples and he falls, a tiny “no” leaving his lips.

The red one follows after, going down on a knee beside dustin. One by one, Robin watches them realize. One by one, the shock and grief overtakes their innocent faces.

Robin doesn’t notice she’s not walking anymore when another girl runs past her towards to group. Seeing their distress, she turns back and faces Robin and oh-

Robin sees Steve in her brown eyes, in her clothing, in the blood dripping from her nose.

Maybe she can see the sadness on Robin like Steve, because look is all it takes. The girl let’s out the harshest, most gut-wrenching scream. She realizes he’s gone.

He’s gone.

The children grab her as she falls into them, a pile of misery if she’s ever seen one.

Robin takes another step before her legs give out. It might have been from the drugs, from the lack of food, from the torture. It doesn’t matter. The kids just lost their protector and nothing she can do will bring him back. Their image blurs as Robin succumbs to the tears as well.

Yes. It’s all Steve Harringtons fault. She just wishes he were here so she could tell him that.

…

The days after are bad, with the grief and the recovery. The town has lost so much in one night, so many lives stripped away in one single building.

The nights are worse. For those in the fire, it’s a long, dark time filled with torture devices, enclosed spaces, and monsters wearing people as masks.

Dustin doesn’t sleep much. Usually, after this happens, he has someone there to wake him up from nightmares. The first time, the party had slept in wills room and he could wake up and see his friend sleeping in his bed. The second time, he spent the night at Steve’s house, who hadn’t minded when he crawled into bed with him and El.

It was not the beginning of their friendship, already too far past that, but it was somewhere about midway. As the months passed, dustin will joined Steve’s and El’s little family in the backseat of a beemer, in the yellow kitchen, in the last dredges of milkshakes. He and Steve and el became Dustin-Steve-and-El then just Dustin-and-Steve as summer began and everyone flourishes out. He’d thought this summer would be the best with his science camp and new girlfriend and Steve and ice cream and secret Russian messages-

So. This time, afterward, there’s no one. Lucas and Erica are stuck at their parents, max at the hospital with Billy, Mike and will hidding in the formers basement, and El-

Dustin hesitates less than he should’ve before shakily getting out of bed. The walkie sits on his desk, where it has been just in case he needed Steve. But Steve’s not here, so it sits there uselessly.

But know he picks it up and dials into channel 4, “you there? Over.”

There is a long pause before another voice gives a quiet “yeah. Over.”

The device is quiet again while they wait for the other to say something. El relents first.

“I miss him. Over.”

Dustin backs up until his thighs touch his bed, then he kind of falls back onto his sheets. He stares at the ceiling as he replies “me too. Over.”

Silence again. El is probably looking at the ceiling too. He can picture her looking up. It’s not her ceiling, covered in posters and stars and paint splatters. Instead, it’s probably the Byers, the ceiling above wills bed: wood planks and dark swirls. She hasn’t gone back into their house since he-

“Do you want to have a sleepover? Over.”

He waits for her reply, clutching the walkie to his chest. For a minute, he thinks she’s not going to respond until she croaks “yeah” a pause, her voice is clearer “I’ll be there in 10. Over.”

“Copy. Over and out.”

Dustin sits up and unlocks his window.

…

Max helps Billy get from the hospital to the car, then from the car to the house. Then, later that night, she helps him to the bathroom.

She doesn’t talk to him. Doesn’t mention Neil’s silent neglect. Doesn’t mention Susan’s air headed absence. Doesn’t mention the mall. Doesn’t mention what he did.

Still.

It’s a little too much. He’s not weak. He doesn’t esnt need his 14 year old sister to take care of him. But every time Max is there to do something for him and he feels a rush of anger and it’s so big it might explode out of him and jab at her-

It just.

Goes away.

Steve - Seven - Harrington had mind powers. He’s heard the kids talk about it over the walkie talkie Max keeps locked in her room. He heard about the nudges and pulls and keeping it there.

Now he knows what Harrington did to Neil. The lack of care. Absence of anger or annoyance. Just a mellow man living his days in a mellow town. No wonder the abuse stopped.

Now he thinks Harrington did something to him.

He’s on bed rest for almost three weeks. He has a lot of time to think.

And every time Max brings him water without asking or adjusts his pillows, and the anger and annoyance rise up and release just as fast to leave him cooler and more rational-

He thinks he’s kinda ok with it.

…

Max doesn’t sleep.

Her eyes are dry and crusty. There’s bags upon bags under them, black and sunken. Her mind is slow and she can barely tell what anyone’s saying to her the first time. She’s so tired it’s all she thinks about.

The nightmares are worse than the tiredness.

Steve’s bleeding from his nose and mouth, and some’s coming from his ears too.

It’s okay, he says.

It’s gonna be okay, he tells her.

He kisses her forehead. It does not distract her from the lie.

Go with Billy, he said.

Billy will protect you, he told her.

Billy carried El and Mike from the mall, but in this dream he’s carrying her instead.

She watches Steve get smaller, and smaller, and smaller.

He does not go to her no matter how much she screams.

…

Billy doesn’t remember what happened.

But the kids do.

Robin’s the one to tell him though, bundled up in blankets and sitting in a room with all the lights on. It’s the end of August. She shivers despite the heat.

“You- it had found the kids - Mike, Max, and El - and Mike was down and Max almost was, and y- it was toting off El over your shoulder. Steve found you- it.”

He doesn’t get mad at her mistakes. His body carried a monster. (was the mind flayer the only monster though? Was it not just you? Billy- BILLY).

“What did I do?”

Robin blinked her eyes a few times. She looked into his, though his baby blues didn’t hold as many tears. “You hit him.”

He tries to hold in his confusion - a hit wouldn’t have taken him down - but she sees it anyways. She swallows and holds up a hand.

A moment.

Two.

“The Russians banged him up pretty bad. There were too many of them for him to use his mind powers - manipulation thing - good enough, so he just distracted them from me,” she swallows again and sips from the water she clutches like a life line, “But he was fine- not with the drugs of course - but he wasn’t keeling over yet-“

She sobs again. Billy’s eyes remain dry. It’s awkward.

“But he tried to stop it and it hit him again and again until he could get to you-“ another sob, “and when I found him again after he sent you off there was blood coming from his mouth and I had to help him walk to the elevator and he wouldn’t sit because I don’t think he could get back up if he did and it was too much on top of closing the gate and I couldn’t carry him-“

She’s full on sobbing now, and for a second he regrets sharing the pot. He didn’t want to deal with this. He was not the person to deal with their emotions. He did not belong in this family.

He shouldn’t after what happened. What he did.

Still, he pats her shoulder and lets her curl up next to him until she falls asleep. Then, he lays her down and wraps the blankets around her.

He is not a good caretaker. So he leaves after that. But he leaves the lights on for her so she doesn’t wake up in the dark.

…

Here’s what happened:

Russians opened gate under mall.

Mind flayer started possessing people.

Billy got possessed and then helped mind flayer possess other people.

Russians attack ice cream scoopers.

Mind flayer attacks children.

Adults kidnap and commit grand theft auto with a Russian man to help stop both of the above.

Russian man dies.

Children distract mind flayer from its prey.

Possessed Billy finds prey, takes it, and then is intercepted by prey’s brother.

Possessed Billy beats up Prey’s brother.

Brother has another nearly fatal concussion. He undoes possession on Billy, brainwashes him into taking and protecting kids, then escapes down to Russian base with his ice cream scooping friend. Superboy closes gate, liquifies his brain because he had too many traumatic brain injuries, and is near death as mall starts collapsing around him.

Ice cream scooping friend has to abandon him to make it out alive.

No-longer-possessed Billy protects kids until mind flayer is killed. Promptly passes out from previous injuries.

That’s all he could get out of Chief Hopper.

Chief Hopper was shitfaced and mourning his child.

Chief hopper still doesn’t blame Billy.

Billy wishes he did.

#stranger things #billy hargrove #steve harrington #el hopper #jim hopper #robin buckley #dustin henderson #max mayfield #angst #harringrove #kinda

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jennyandvastraflint · 7 months ago

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Thank you for the ask!! Would you give me some snippets in return, please?

2. that makes me laugh (you know that's always my favourite <3)

4. with dialogue i'm proud of

11. with characters i want to write more in the future

16. from a recent piece i want to brag about

19. from that project that was SUPPOSED to be short but then i kept writing and now it is very long

21. that i liked, but had to cut

22. that is so blissfully self-indulgent

Please also feel free to skip whichever you don't feel like doing <3

Hiii, yes of course! Always giving you snippets <3 I'll put them under a cut though, because it's rather lengthy XD

2. that makes me laugh (you know that's always my favourite <3)

Here's a bit from a WIP <3

Strax held open the door for Madame Vastra and Miss Jenny, and was promptly greeted by Jenny stumbling out and running off to relieve herself of her lunch. “This is why human means of regaining energy are inefficient,” Strax complained, waiting for Jenny to stop retching after he had gotten all their luggage down from the carriage. Vastra glared at him from where she was standing next to Jenny, holding her hand. “I rather think your rampageous driving style is to blame for this, Strax,” she called, and she beckoned him over. “Do take the luggage up to our rooms, please, and inform the landlady we will be joining you shortly.” Strax agreed with a grunt, and he began heaving the cases in. Some of the humans inside the dwelling looked at him strange, but he had no time for their “con-versations”, and he waddled past them all until he bumped into one creature with two heads stacked on top of each other.

4. with dialogue i'm proud of

Have a snippet from my Holiday in the North WIP that I still need to finish!!!

“Oh, me darling,” Jenny coaxed, tracing a finger over Vastra’s jawline. A shiver went through Vastra, and she tried hard to maintain her sulky expression. Jenny decided to lay it on thick, and she threw herself to her wife’s chest. “Oh please, dearest Vastra, me strong warrior, forgive me!” She made a little weep and cried on, “Sweetheart, I love you so, please.” A cool hand brushed against Jenny’s dry cheek, and Vastra’s arm pulled her a little closer. She heard the telltale noise of Vastra’s breath hitching, and when she looked up, squeezing out exactly one tear, she saw the dark fluster on Vastra’s cheeks. “You fell for it,” Jenny then grinned, noting the bewilderment on Vastra’s face. “I did not!,” she immediately protested, nostrils flaring. After a few seconds, she couldn’t fight off a smile, and she said, “Well… If it is worth anything, I have already long forgiven you, my dear.” She placed a tender kiss to Jenny’s lips, then drew her down to sit on Vastra’s lap. Jenny adjusted herself until she sat comfortably, Vastra’s hands eagerly fiddling with the pins in her hair. “Mmmh, someone’s needy,” Jenny hummed before she leaned in for another kiss that swallowed up a grumble Vastra had just made. Jenny’s hands wandered to Vastra’s neck, and she undid the topmost button to gently scratch some of Vastra’s scales.

11. with characters i want to write more in the future

That would definitely be the Bloomsbury Bunch, Vella, Stonn, Tom! Giving you a snippet from a WIP because I don't think I've published anything about them yet?

In another place, a Sontaran paced around the room, staring down at his calculations. Vella lazily lifted her head from her nest of blankets in the sun by the window and rolled her eyes. “Stop pacing, Stonn, you’ll run the carpets ragged.” “Ahhh, heinous reptile! It is not like you have to organise an entire wedding! And it must be perfect!” “Mamma mia, here we go again,” Vella groaned, stretching her limbs before she slid from the blankets. She towered over Stonn as she came to a halt in front of him. “Stonn. It does not have to be perfect. Tom doesn’t care, so long as you two get to spend the day together. I will never understand the fuss you are making about this… You could just go to a local church. I could eat the clergy, so they can’t try and stop you.” Her tongue flicked forth from between sharp teeth, and Stonn shook his head – that is to say, due to his lack of a neck, he shook his entire upper body.

16. from a recent piece i want to brag about

Her mind crept to sacrilegious acts, violating the solely spiritual rites of worship she had been taught, and she craved more. To worship her goddess with everything she was, everything she had and could give. She would let her goddess make her scream with pleasure, and return the favour if her deity so wished. Her lips yearned to explore, to taste the spilt blood and clean her goddess’s hands and cheeks from it. She wanted to utter unspoken prayers, press them to Jenny’s lips with hers, sing in sounds deemed too passionate for prayer. (from sing unspoken prayers with my lips on yours)

Look I just. I love this bit and this entire fic. There's something so alluring about women splattered in blood, and Vastra 100% would be turned on by that. Like she has an almost religious devotion to Jenny anyway, and just <3

19. from that project that was SUPPOSED to be short but then i kept writing and now it is very long

Did you mean literally any fic I've written, ever? I think the most prominent example for this rn is Turn Loose the Mermaids, which I unfortunately haven't written the next part for yet... I'll give you a snippet from the last chapter again dhfgjskg They're just soooooo <3 (Also, this was a scene that wasn't in my original plan AT ALL, though most of that part wasn't... I planned to introduce the crew shortly, but I decided it needed the time.)

“But other- people, the ones we rescue, and in town, they always think I’m being rude when I don’t look into their eyes.” “They don’t understand it’s difficult for you, Vastra. But you’re already doing so much to make them comfortable, they could do that one thing in return, couldn’t they,” Jenny said, and she took Vastra’s other hand, the one with the pearl necklace. “They didn’t like you flapping your hands or squeezing them a lot either, so we got you the necklace you can wear because that is seen as more… acceptable by them, right?” “Hmhm,” Vastra made, and she ran her thumb over one of the bigger pearls. “I like the necklace too, it’s very smooth. But…” She put it away and grinned as she reached for Jenny’s tied up curls. “I like this a lot more…” The curl bounced back when Vastra let go of it, and she began twirling it around her finger. Jenny felt herself fluster, like she always did when Vastra was being so gentle. Eventually, a cool hand cupped Jenny’s face, and she was drawn in for a long, gentle kiss.

21. that i liked, but had to cut

I don't really cut things, and if I do, like a sentence or two, I usually delete them entirely? Sooo, unfortunately no snippet for you here? But have a second one that might make you laugh instead!

“So you admit you sang!” Vastra let out a quiet hiss, or maybe it was a muttered curse word in Silurian. “I don’t know what planted that idea in your head in the first place, love…” Well, if Vastra would remain stubborn, Jenny just had to use any means at her disposal. “Vastra?” “Yes, dear?” “If you don’t admit you sang, and in the worst Cockney impression I’ve heard in my entire life, I’ll ask Strax to give you some lessons…” Abruptly, Vastra halted, and Jenny was yanked close by her tie. “You wouldn’t dare,” Vastra growled, her face mere inches away. Neither the darkness nor the black veil could conceal the angry glint in Vastra’s eyes, but Jenny had to admit, that gleam rather served to stroke the flames in her heart more.

22. that is so blissfully self-indulgent

Okay, I don't have one as a WIP rn, but I'll just give you something from a published fic XD Quite frankly, the entire gentle hair brushing/braiding/playing business is awfully self-indulgent... So here's a snippet from a kindest heart made me believe the world as I wish it to be

“Jenny?“ Vastra’s voice finally reached her, and though her sight was blurry, Jenny found Vastra’s eyes. “’m sorry,” she instantly gasped, and only now she noticed the tears dripping down her face. “You do not need to apologise, Jenny. I… was just wondering whether I was being too rough, if I upset you.” Vastra seemed to physically hold herself back from touching Jenny, or wiping her tears. Jenny did it herself, and she gave Vastra a smile. “I’m fine. Sorry. I- Me thoughts were elsewhere. You are being very gentle.” Vastra opened her mouth, like she wanted to ask something else, but she decided against it and shuffled behind Jenny again. Even more gentle now, she continued her work of parting Jenny’s hair. Finally, she picked up the brush and ran it through Jenny’s hair. At the first brush strokes, Jenny tilted her head back a little, following the soothing tugging. One of Vastra’s hands lay flat against Jenny’s back now, and Jenny’s mouth felt dry at the touch, her entire body trembling. The pressure on her shoulder blade felt… good, nice, and even comforting.

I hope you enjoy these snippets!!

#writer ask game #writer ask meme #snippet #my writing #my fanfic writing #madame vastra #jenny flint #jenny and vastra #jenny x vastra #vastra x jenny #the paternoster gang #vastra and jenny #strax

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memento-morianon · 2 months ago

Text

masterpost of excerpts

The Larak family is having a gossip circle over lunch. post-funeral conversation snippets:

Eager chatter met their ears before they’d even opened the door.

“Oh there you are! We worried you might stay home all day just to clean up and rest!” Kouto practically skipped to the entry way and hurried Evarin and Morianon over to the conversation pit, where the whole family and a few neighbors were passing around food and gossip.

“Auntie Evarin!” Kione got up from his seat and scooted in next to her as she reclined beside Raisha and took a handful of roasted pine nuts from a bowl nearby.

“Let me settle a moment,” she laughed, shifting to face her nephew and his bright eyes.

“I was too far away from the fight when it happened,” Kione blurted, “you saw it, right? I heard everyone panicking about it, but I couldn’t see.”

“I saw it. Ikar’s lucky he got to walk away, if you ask me,” Evarin dropped her voice to a mutter, leaning closer to Kione. For the most part, he took after Talib’s side; dark skin, curly hair, and the same cleft lip drawing a little gap up to his nose. But his hunger for social drama was entirely Kouto’s.

“I did see the centaur watching everything,” he replied conspiratorially, “is it good or bad? A lot of people want the centaurs to be more friendly, but I’ve also heard people worry that the other orcs might be angry that Ikar was kicked out. I don’t really know what’s going on, but I want to.”

“It’s complicated,” Evarin mused, sitting up and scratching her jaw. Kione was the eldest of her nevies, almost as old as she and Morianon had been when he was born. For a moment, Evarin softened at the memory. She and Morianon had been dating when Talib and Kouto got married, but they’d broken up before Kione’s birth, favoring friendship for nearly a decade before Morianon was ready to approach romance again.

“I can handle complicated,” Kione said, squaring his shoulders. “Do you think the other orcs will be angry about Ikar’s banishment? And what about the centaurs? Will more of them visit?”

“Well, I think some of the orcs up north will be very upset. But I don’t know if they’ll cut ties entirely or just withdraw for a while. It’s hard to say.”

“You know what I think?” Raisha joined their conversation, turning away from whatever gossip she had been trading with Jen. “I think that clan up north has been divided for years. They’ll go quiet for a while, I’m sure of that. Might not see any trade from them for a long time. But they’ll be having their own local disputes and I think they might break into two clans if it gets bad enough.”

“Really?” Kione’s ears nervously tilted back. “So what happens if they split up? Is that bad for us?”

“Half of them will probably try to mend the alliance down here, the rest will be on their own. Give it a few centuries, maybe they’ll change their minds, maybe they won’t. It’s going to be a mess for a while.” Raisha spoke with a level tone but her lips creeped into a subtle smile, half nervous and half eager.

“As long as they don’t do anything completely stupid,” Evarin sighed, “but what do you think about the centaurs? I couldn’t get a read on Amahr, but Morianon spoke with an-hil and apparently the archaeology dig is still happening and K’arik might be allowed to join.”

“Uncle Mori gets to visit the centaurs?” Kione gasped jealously. Morianon chuckled, sitting nearby with a plate of fish as he eavesdropped on all the conversations around him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll try to bring home something cool. Maybe someone will agree to trade me a trinket or two for a handful of freshly molted feathers.”

———

“Even the people who didn’t go to the funeral are talking about it, because the pixies have been spreading the gossip like warm butter,” Kouto stated gleefully. Lu leaned in closer to Morianon and Evarin, glancing around before lu continued. “Don’t want my kids overhearing too much, but I’ve had all the best gossip about Ikar from my coworkers. Banned patrons aren’t given the client privacy respect, know what I mean? So he’s one of the few people I hear stories about by name.”

“Oh, did he ever visit the Devious Drake while you were working?” Evarin’s eyes shimmered with spiteful curiosity. Kouto nodded eagerly.

“Once when I was still fairly new, and he actually did try it again just after he arrived before the funeral.” Lu chuckled proudly at Morianon and Evarin’s gasps.

“Really?” Morianon laughed, “he visited the Devious Drake just a few days before his own father’s death?”

“Does his wife know?” Evarin added. Kouto’s tail waved mischievously in reply.

“She might not know about the most recent visit, but she certainly knew about the previous ones and what I heard is that she was very upset about it. Still, can’t believe he really thought we’d forgotten about his ban. He could stay away for a whole century and show up at our door and someone would still know to kick him right back out. You don’t mess with Rain’s workers and get away with it,”Kouto purred, baring uls teeth in a playful sneer. “Ever seen a drow bare their teeth at an orc? It’s inspiring, really.”

———

Everyone turned to the door at the sound of it opening once again, this time revealing Obeli Moruga, carrying a large basket.

“Hope no-one minds, I let myself in,” lor chuckled, squinting lor dark old eyes. “You know I have to make my rounds and check in on all our little ones before the new year. Hello Choriv, Eliach, are you well?” Lor shuffled to the conversation pit and welcomed the younger goblins into lor arms. They both squealed in delight and hurried over to embrace their elderly guardian. Moruga was the Obeli of all the goblins in their town; the head organizer of the foster system that allowed so many young ones to avoid the winter hibernation, and better integrated their non-goblin neighbors into their community.

“Obeli! Did you bring us anything? What is it?” Choriv prodded the large basket, ears wiggling. Eliach bounced on lor feet in anticipation, and the whole room filled with murmurs of laughter.

“Oh, I have a few things, yes.” Obeli Moruga opened the basket and handed the children their gifts. “Don’t eat too much, or it will make you sick,” lor warned, handing over two jars of candied grasshoppers. Choriv and Eliach giggled and clutched the jars, scrambling to open them and snag a few hoppers with their squishy tongues. They mumbled a thank you through half closed mouths and sat back down with their foster parents. Obeli Moruga turned and waved at Morianon and Evarin. “I have things for you two as well. Here, this is for your beautiful dancing.” Lor met Morianon halfway as he rose from the couch, handing him a jar of pickled fish. It was lor special recipe, extra spicy and sour.

“Thank you!” Morianon glanced sheepishly at Evarin, deciding not to open the jar just yet as she met his gaze with icy eyes.

“Always bringing more of that stink into my house,” she muttered. Obeli Moruga’s wrinkly throat expanded with a croaking laugh.

“And here is your gift, Evarin. For your singing.” Lor handed over another jar and Evarin’s ears perked. She took it greedily, humming a satisfied noise at the colorful label. Her favorite mixed berry jam.

“Alright, you’re forgiven.”

[this whole scene will work better combined with the previous gossip scene, but for now I’m gonna move on. It’s a disjointed bit of conversations and that will have to be fine for now.]

#mm 1 #mm excerpts

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greyeyedmonster-18 · 2 years ago

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hello dr grey <3 feel free to ignore/not publish but i was wondering if it’s possible to get a snippet of ‘tight ends’ with james and sirius? 🙈 i was super excited to read the fic (me! for wolfstar!! can u believe it?) but i totally understand shelving stuff ur unhappy w it so i was hoping to get a lil peek into my fav boys instead lol. u already know i love how u write them.

oh for you, miss padfootastic? anything. (also i went to post this and realized i....don't use dialogue tags for them, so have fun).

“Mom’s making dinner for us. It’s Sunday.”

“You can go without me.”

“She will drive herself here and drag to the table by your ear if you don’t come, Sirius.” James said, “And as much as I would love to see that, we skipped last week, two weeks in a row might be….”

“I know, I know…” Remus heard Sirius mumble softly from his spot in the hall, “I just would rather--”

“Stay here with Lupin in your bed?”

“No.”

“Stay here and wait for him to wake up and then drive him home?”

“I do one nice thing and--”

“It was very nice, I was going to offer my bed if you didn’t. Though, impressed he can hold his liquor against Longbottom.”

“Not a bad shot either….”

“You were watching?”

“If you’re trying to make a point, wrap it up.”

“You’re going to drive him home, aren’t you?”

“No, I’ll him sit in the basket of your bike, and you can take him.”

“Good workout,” James said and Remus could hear that teasing smile in his voice, “It’s okay to say that you don’t actually hate him…”

“I never said I did hate him.”

“It also wouldn’t kill you to, I don’t know, answer a few of his questions, since you obviously care enough about him to let him have your bed…”

“Anything else, Dr. Potter?”

“Please, that’s my mother.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “I just didn’t want him in a lyft, okay? He was drunk off his ass, I did a nice thing….”

“Mhmm. I know.”

“Wipe that fucking grin off your face, I swear.”

“Oooooh, so scary.”

“What time do we need to be at Mom’s?”

“Leave at four.”

“Alright.”

“And if she asks we absolutely did not work out this morning after the game when Coach Hooch told us both to take it easy.”

“I’ve never worked out a day in my life, babe.” Sirius finished and Remus waited a few moments, listening to the opening and closing of drawers and clattering of silverware before entering.

“Sleeping beauty!” James exclaimed when he saw Remus, Remus immediately wincing at the volume of the other boys voice, smiling weakly, “Oh, sorry, I should whisper--sleeping beauty. You live!”

“Barely,” Remus mumbled, walking further into the kitchen of the apartment that looked much different in the morning light when it was just Sirius and James and…” Eggs?”

“Good for hangovers,” Sirius shrugged.

“No, I know that…bit. I…didn’t think either of you would cook,” Remus said, pulling up a seat at the counter next to James who looked far too well-rested and happy to be awake, and far too fit to be in Remus’s eyeline when felt like he had just been run over by a truck. Both of them had clearly just finished some sort of workout, by their conversation Remus had overheard and by their appearance, James sitting in the kitchen in only a pair of compression shorts, a light sheen of sweat over his stomach muscles. Sirius had at least bothered to put a shirt and exercise shorts on…..

“Mom taught us both, but I’m much better at other house duties,” James told Remus.

“Ah, and what are those, exactly?”

“Taking out the trash….talking with our land lady when the sink clogs again, reminding you to call home, that kind of stuff.”

“Hm,” Sirius said, half smile on his face as he set two plates on the counter. Eggs with some toast, and half an avocado, “Eat, you’ll feel better.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” James said, picking up his fork eagerly

#asks #grey answers #on tight ends and wide receivers

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yostresswritinggirl · 4 years ago

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request for your event? you being klee's older sibling and having to look after her, but when no one's around you're just as mischievous as her :))

It is time to give love to the cutest child in the game, the chaos incarnate herself skdbslbwka I always love these types of scenarios, and with a lot of material available, I went haywire sksksks

Geronimo!

Snippets of angst here and there, but Klee always makes things better! (masterlist)

Responsible, reliable, strong.

Strength seems to run in your family, as well the familiarity with the element of Pyro. Ever since your mother Alice left to venture into the world after the appearance of Albedo, things had been busier and tiring on your end.

You had to fend for you and Klee outside of the little pension the Knights provide. Unlike Klee and Alice, you were no Knight of Favonius, just a normal citizen that does commissions for the Adventurer's Guild while delving into whatever your heart desires. Because of your lack of connection, most of the income you get are from your own work and the bits of mora your mother has left in your care. Your Spark Knight little sister is well in the hands of the Knights, all accommodation handled by them.

A lot of the Knights and even citizens are quite fond of her anyways, and so in multiple care she's not neglected the slightest.

Your mind is at ease knowing that your sister is enjoying a comfortable life while you deal with the loss of a parental figure in silence.

One night as you slip in next to your little sister in her room within the headquarters, the room your mother had occupied before she left, Klee begged you in her half-conscious state to spend the day with her tomorrow even if just for the afternoon. Klee was no spoiled child, she barely asks for anything nor forces others to do her bidding, and this desperation of hers had you crumble as you agreed.

That night you felt more tired than usual. Questioning to yourself, 'have you been neglecting the last family you had?'

Jean felt more than relief when she heard that you'd taking Klee under your care for the day, offering your deepest apologies and gratitude for continuing to look after her in your place. But as Jean waves you two goodbye, she was naive to the chaos she had allowed to come together.

Instead of skipping commissions like you had planned, under the coaxing of your sister, you ended up doing them with her. "It would be fun, Klee will be good and help out too!" And she did, especially when it comes to disposing the creatures around the city.

You watched a Hilichurl fly up from a huge explosion, body spread out as it disappears behind a line of trees in the background. When you looked back down after the smoke disperses, there's a huge crater in the middle of the Hilichurl camp and many unconscious Hilichurls in general.

"Let me try it too!" "Yeeey, go, big sibling!" Picking up one of her smaller bombs she'd laid out on the ground for easy access, you pulled out your bow and hanged the bomb by its head with a piece of string.

"Do a spin, a 360!" "Whatever my sister wants," you started as you started shifting your body in a turn, arrow and string pulled back and ready for release, "Sheeee gets!" When you saw the familiar view of the camp, you angled your shot slightly upwards and released, arrow piercing through the air before immediately turning downward with the weight of the bomb.

You two looked over the cliff to watch the fire show below, arm wrapped around her form to make sure she doesn't fall, as the supposed tiny bomb produced a huge mushroom cloud that sent a gale of black smoke up to where you two watched.

"That was so cool!" "So cool!" You gave your sister a high five, both of your hair disheveled from the force with ashes littered all over your body.

Gliding down the cliff, you didn't give the charred camp much attention as you two sped past to your next commission.

Once you'd went with her to a faraway river when she said she wanted some fish toast. Not wanting her to use her bomb and cause some kind of fish extinction in Mondstadt, you eagerly jumped in the pond after discarding some of your important items and outer clothing, an arrow in hand as you chased and stab the bigger fish.

"Wah, big sis/bro! Behind you! A green scary fish is about to bite you!" "A what now?!"

After you turned, you've ended up wrestling against the jaws of a giant crocodile that strayed into the stream. It took a few minutes before Klee finally stepped in with her Pyro catalyst.

You swimmed a little more to wash away the ashes, cleaning up your sister's face with a wet cloth too from the earlier Hilichurl extermination.

You're not as popular or in the limelight as your sister, many Mondstadtians only ever know you as a simple citizens who deals with commissions, and so very few (select few knights too) know of your connections with the Spark Knight.

When Klee isn't rambling about her bombs, confinement or Albedo, she likes to brag about you. The best and hardworking family, always responsible and witty that you manage to get away with anything. She proudly announces she wants to be as smart as you too, both clauses somehow sending worry to the Knights in fear of Klee and whatever you're capable of.

Despite your respectful smiles and composed appearance, your energy and genius stems from your unhinged mother. The best and worst part about it tho, is that you don't need to report to any higher ups about your experimentations and findings.

"If we lure in a Cryo slime here," you said with a gesture to the net set up by the catapult, "this catapult would sling it over to the field fire the whopperflower made!"

"Do you get it?" "Yes, yes! Klee will deliver a nice and big Cryo slime!" You watched as she took off with that cute run of hers, and not even a minute passes that she comes running back over the slope-

"That's one- two, three, four- five?! KLEE WE ONLY NEEDED ONE SLIME- AHHHHH!"

An adult and a baby Cryo slime got caught in the net which immediately triggered the catapult's mechanism. In the distance you watched them bounce off the flames, also effectively crushing the flower itself under their weight.

Leaving you two to deal with remaining slimes, which was easy with your precise shots and Klee's destructive power. You two escaped death with a few bruises from the bouncing abominations, your catapult broken amidst the encounter.

"(Y/N) is the best big sibling I could ever have! So fun to play with especially! Even if Klee misses them a lot, Klee knows that they're doing it for the best!" Kaeya and Jean awed at the way Klee speaks so fondly of you after getting cleaned up for rest, while you showered during this time in her room's bath. "Klee wants to be as cool as them!"

"What's this?" You emerged from the doorway with a towel around your shoulder, your appearance causing your little sister to jump down from Kaeya's arms to run into yours. "You little mischief, sneaking out of the room to disturb the Acting Grand Master and the Captain!"

"I wanted to talk to them about how fun and cool you are!" Klee giggled when you booped noses, the two older figures in the room chuckling fondly at the sweet scene.

"Perhaps you could look into joining our ranks? There's always a room for you in the Knights, someone as reliable as you would be helpful in protecting Mondstadt," Jean's smile echoes through her words of offer as she looks at you inquisitively, making you gulp at the idea.

You wanted to refuse, for many, many reasons really. But Klee's bright, wide eyes at the thought of finally being in the same place as you for possibly 24/7, tells you you couldn't really refuse.

It was only three months after being a knight that Jean finally realized the deep and ashen crater by Starsnatch Cliff was created by you and Klee's combined efforts. She stares warily as she sees your form pass by the cracked open door to her office, Klee towed behind you as you walk hand in hand with big smiles.

Mondstadt's walls shook that day.

Klee is actually my little sister's favorite character in Genshin. I was tempted to merge this with another ask, but no, I must hold myself.

@moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @just-some-stars @volleybloop

#genshin impact x reader #klee x reader #genshin impact #exile.goblet #exile.flower #fluff #domestic #sojourner specials #gender neutral #please #Alice give your child some loving

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moqi2004 · 2 years ago

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Octopath Traveler 2 Launch Date Trailer and Website breakdown analysis

Doing another one of these, since the other one seemed to help people a lot :)

Here's a link to the trailer analysis I did for the Nintendo Direct's announcement of the game. I'm linking this here since I'm not going to repeat anything I mentioned on that post, even if it reappears in this trailer. I will also be correcting anything my previous analysis got wrong.

As before, I recommend you watch the trailer yourself before reading this post.

youtube

At 0:09, we can see a village, which looks to be made up of people with the same animalistic features as Ochette.

At 0:28 we get a clear view of the map, as well as where each Traveler is located. We never got a good look at it in the last trailer, but here it's much clearer.

At 0:50, we can see Osvald running towards a burning building, surprised upon finding it. This could potentially be related to the death of his wife and daughter, since in this scene his hair is neat and tied back instead of messily hung down.

I'm going to put a trigger warning here for abuse and potential slavery, so skip past this next point and image if you don't want to see this. At 0:52, we can see Throné being whipped by someone who refers to herself as "Mother". Either this is Throné's mother abusing her, or that's just a sick title she gives herself and Throné is a potential slave of this woman. Either way, that's very messed up and not at all where I thought Throné's story was going to go.

This next point is simply speculation, as the scene isn't very clear due to the layout of the video, but at 0:57 it almost seems like Temenos can see spirits, or perhaps even images of the past? I don't know what it is but it looks cool.

At 1:06, the dialogue confirms that Castti has amnesia

At 1:14, we can see Agnea at home, with what looks to be one of her parents in the background. I cannot tell if this is her mother or her father.

At 1:31, we see Agnea performing a Lion Dance (a dancer action from Octopath Traveler 1), but a guided townperson seems to be performing their action at the same time as her. What he did, I can't tell, but he played his flute at the same time as Agnea danced.

From 1:36 to 1:37, you can see how the NPCs around town change and leave from day to night.

At 1:46, we can see Agnea able to Entreat people at night. Entreating was something you could perform on Fame NPCs in Champions of the Continent, where you could ask for their belongings. It basically worked the same as Therion's steal path action in Octopath 1, just with a different name.

From 2:04 to 2:06, Agnea mentions that her mother wrote her own songs and travelled the land. She also mentions that she and someone named Pala (spelling may be incorrect, the name was never written down) travelled with her.

At 2:10, we can see the appearance of Agnea's mother clearly.

The lady known as Dolcinaea, the dancer we see at 2:19, was the person I referred to as Agnea's mother in my last post. That now seems to be incorrect. Dolcinaea seems to be more of a roadblock or even a rival for Agnea to potentially overcome during her story.

The girl we see at 2:27 may be Pala, and it seems like she could even potentially be Agnea's sister. This is purely speculation. No canon information is given, but she's important enough to Agnea that she's allowed in her house.

At 2:53, Hikari is confirmed to be the younger prince of Ku. "Younger prince" seems to imply that he has an older brother. I wasn't completely off with my Lord speculation from my last analysis :))

At 2:59, one of the NPCs we saw by Hikari's side in the last trailer has been named. Her name is Rai Mei.

Around 3:40, we see more snippets of combat. Along with what I mentioned in my last analysis, each character also seems to have a target-shaped gauge next to their names, filling up as they get hit.

The boat the travelers are fighting on at 3:40 could be evidence proving that you will be able to control the larger boat I pointed out in my large analysis, as well as encounter enemies whilst sailing.

The game will not only be releasing on Switch. We will also get same day releases on Steam, PS4, and PS5.

That's all the important infomation I could find from the trailer! Like before, please mention if you find anything I myself did not discover, and I will include it on the post in an edit.

Here's some information I was also able to gain from the Square Enix website.

Digital pre-orders will receive in-game items as a bonus, including: 5 healing grape (m)s, 5 inspiriting plum (m)s, 2 revitalising jams, and gold dust (which can sell for 5000 leaves)

The gold dust mentioned above also confirms that leaves are the currency for this game, the same as in Orsterra.

That was really all the new information the website had. Disappointing, but at least we know what digital pre-orders will receive.

As well as this, the physical pre-order for the collector's edition of the game is now on the Square Enix store. The bundle will include the game, an art book, a physical album, and small bust figures of the eight travelers. You can find the page linked here.

Anyways, long post, but that's all I was able to gather :))) hopefully this was helpful to everyone else looking forward to this game o7

#octopath traveler #octopath traveler 2 #Hikari Octopath #Agnea Octopath #Partitio Octopath #Osvald Octopath #Throné Octopath #Ochette Octopath #Temenos Octopath #Castti Octopath #trailer analysis #tw // abuse #tw // slavery #Youtube

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neet0 · 2 years ago

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The Old Man and the Sea (Excerpt)

A favorite snippet from Chapter 32 of Revelations.

Back home, Lily never went anywhere by herself, let alone the beach.

As a matter of fact, she hated the beach — it was smelly, noisy, and the ever-present wind stung her cheeks. The only reason she ever bothered with it was to spend time with Dad, who longed for the sea like it could never be the death of him.

“It’s just superstition, you know,” he said as they rested along the narrow strip of sand between the cliffs and the shore. “Our people were seafaring long before the humans ever walked upright.”

Chilly sand swallowed her bare feet whole as she stood beside him, itchy and dry between her toes. In the distance, steel gray storm heads promised freezing rain by dawn. She squinted against the biting gale at the waves carrying moonlight out to sea, wondering how quickly they might carry her out, too.

It wasn’t an instant death — far from it. If she was lucky, a sea monster would consume her on sight. If she wasn’t, the saltwater would seize every muscle in her body, contorting her limbs into painful arcs. Paralyzed, she would sink to the ocean floor, where she would stay for the rest of her natural life.

“I don’t know about that.” She crossed her arms, suppressing a shiver. "For starters, we can’t swim, and if the mers get to us, they’ll keep us down there forever.”

“The mers will bring you back to shore if you ask them,” he said, patting her shoulder. “One day, I will take you on the boat and show you how to speak with them, and you’ll see they’re our friends.”

A nonsensical thing to say. Merpeople didn’t talk or have friends, and Dad didn’t teach her anything requiring magic. Her mother forbade it, and her word was law. Yet, nonsense was what she knew to expect from him. He laughed too loud, told crazy stories, and sometimes stared out into nothingness, never saying what he saw there.

Worst of all, he was not around very often. She had his nonsense only some of the time.

A flat stone washed ashore, and Lily picked it up, flinging it across the water. It got one good skip in before vanishing beneath the waves. Unable to find another, she squatted down to pick up a long piece of driftwood and began scrawling figures into the wet sand. “Where are you going this month?”

“The Levant. Severe droughts killed off many of the Yeduah, and the remaining need relief from their losses.”

“Are there enough left?”

“No. I’m afraid not.”

She’d never seen the Yeduah outside of encyclopedias — the “vegetable apes”, as they were sometimes called, with long stems connecting their bellies directly to the earth. Now she likely never would.

Hugging her knees tighter, she scratched her crude drawings out of the sand. “Sad.”

“It is.”

Vampires made the endangered list centuries ago, when the Andales fell. Their numbers had held steady since, but the specter of annihilation lurked in every shadow of public life. Some argued — too proudly, in her opinion — that vampires couldn’t possibly go extinct. They were too strong, too clever, too superior in every way to those ill-fated species now lost to the world. Some made a sport out of blaming the Council for all of their woes. Overly restrictive hunting policies, they said, made having more children a burden. Others quibbled that the birthrate never fluctuated all that much — it was the lawless violence within the territories killing vampires off prematurely, and if only the Council could permit more of them to move to the human world, then the matter would right itself in no time.

Lily wasn’t sure about any of those things, but she knew none of it would matter if they didn’t figure it out soon. She worked her thumbnail into a hairline crack in the stick, splitting the brittle wood down the center. “It could be us next, couldn’t it?”

“I’ll be back for the festival season. By the winter solstice, if all goes to plan.”

Changing the subject was as good as a ‘yes’. Dad always did that when he didn’t want to answer a question. This time, she let it slide. She didn’t really want to know, either.

With no sticks or stones to occupy her restless hands, she stood back up and dusted the sand off her hands and knees. "You promise this time?"

No answer but the creaking of swallow-tailed gulls overhead. Her stomach sank, and she chastised herself for it. Of course, he couldn’t promise, nor should he. A whole species had to cope with their imminent extinction — they clearly needed him more than she did. There would be other holidays.

“Dad?” She called when he didn’t change the subject once more. Perhaps he was having another one of his spells. “You okay?”

His voice was faint over the crashing waves. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m just tired.”

“Wanna go home?” She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see him sitting cross-legged in the sand, watching the moon glide below the horizon as he indulged in that secret world inside him she might never understand.

But he was gone.

#writeblr #writing #snippet sunday #hellsing #hellsing oc #hellsing fanfiction #hellsing fanfic #alternate universe #worldbuilding #ocappreciation

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sunshineneedsaplacetokeephernsfw · 3 years ago

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Immortal - 1, Introduction (kinktober)

Kaminari Denki - Electricity

Warnings: 18+ (minor dni), non-consensual touching, electricity, creepy Denki, running, not edited

Word count: 3,185 (this is longer than all the other parts)

Masterlist

Part 1 | Next

October

The month that had become dedicated to stories and decorations on store shelves that ranged from spooky to creepy. But there was a strange unsettled feeling resting in the air this year. You felt it in the cool breeze and the whispers as people talked about the missing heroes from the past two years.

It was hard to believe the year was almost over. Especially when it felt like it had only just started, but here you were. You checked the clock and found your shift was done. You promptly wrapped up what you were doing and practically skipped out, with a book in hand. On your way out, your ear caught snippets of a conversation.

"It's horrible what happened."

"I wonder if it's going to happen again this year."

Right.

Two years ago, in October, the famous incident occurred when several students from U.A. went missing during a mission they had all been on. No one could ever find a single trace of them.

You pondered on it as you walked on the sidewalk with your book tucked under your arm. The sky was a deep blue and the air you breathed in was crisp and refreshing. And you were off work for the rest of the day. Which meant you could finally read more of the book that had been sitting on your counter for the past month. And it was a perfect day to read outside.

But you couldn’t stop recalling the strange, seemingly related event that happened last year. The next year after the disappearance, also October, two more heroes who had only just recently graduated from U.A. vanished the same way. It was also around that time when they realized that the villains Shigaraki and Dabi never showed their faces again, and the League of Villains seemed to be looking for them.

However horrible the disappearances, it soon faded into past news and life went on like nothing had ever happened. However, when the calendar changed to October once more, everyone was on edge. The heroes seemed more cautious, the public held their breath in anticipation.

You did your best not to care. It put a sick feeling in your stomach. Hopefully your book would manage to distract you.

Upon finding a nice bench, with a view of the nearby forest, you sat down with a content sigh and flipped the book open. Thankfully, it worked. You slipped into the story, hardly even noticing when you flipped the page or even when the clouds began to block out the sun. You only stopped when it became nearly too dark to read the page. You looked up.

Night had fallen. Shadows stretched and covered everything like a blanket. The only bit of natural light was a dim blue that was sure to fade soon enough.

Your heart beat fast. You closed your book and started in the direction of your apartment. There were always stories. Stories you knew were real. Stories that you'd hear all throughout the whole year, about people staying out too late at night and running into the wrong people. Real monsters.

This was your plan until you spotted somethin- no, someone moving. In the darkness, it took you a moment to see them more clearly. Someone in black and gray from head to toe, not a single bit of skin showing. And one in yellow, a top hat, and a theater mask. It took a moment, but you recognized these two as villains. You stumbled back. They were on the news once, and now they were there. You could see them. They could see you if they looked, they just hadn't yet. Or had they?

Your hands shook. Your limbs were frozen for a few precious seconds. Seconds that you could have used to get away. You ran to the forest. It was the first place you thought of. Maybe you could hide in the trees if they followed you. It was certainly a better option than running in the middle of the street.

The shadows swallowed you. You rushed past the tall trees that loomed over you. Twigs snapped beneath you. The sound of your own terrified breathing filled your ears. So loud, you thought everyone could hear.

The thought of actually stopping to hide finally occurred to you. You ducked behind a tree, hoping it was wide enough to completely hide you. Your eyes darted everywhere. You stopped breathing, praying that you wouldn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Nothing. Just the wind in the trees above. The leaves were so dark they looked more black than the sky above you.

Suddenly, your eye caught something that you missed. It was large. You jumped, as if some primal instinct were prepared for a giant monster. It didn’t move. You squinted and let out the breath you were holding.

It was a mansion. There were no lights on inside of it, and the wood was so dark it almost blended in. You never heard about this being here.

You wondered if anyone lived in it. Maybe they could help you. Though, it thankfully seemed like you weren’t being followed. It would be easy to just walk up and get a closer look. With a hand against the tree, you considered your options, to stay or check it out.

Your curiosity won the day.

You stayed low, prepared to dive behind a tree or bush, or duck underneath the mansion porch's railing. Almost every sound was amplified in your ear, making you jump. Which included the sounds even you were making.

The door wasn't locked. It swung open with ease, seemingly inviting you in.

You were considering whether you should enter, when you heard a distant, deep voice behind you. Your heart leaped from out of your chest. Following the voice, now another one, were footsteps. Without a second thought, you dashed inside and closed the door.

The entrance was large and open. Two staircases across from you. Two rooms to the left and right. You stepped into the left room to peer through one of the windows. You walked closer and closer to it. But no matter how close you looked, even when your nose was nearly against the cold glass, you could only see black. You stepped back in confusion.

It was the moment that you heard the door opening that you realized there was nowhere to truly hide in the left room. You quietly ran and dove under the table in the right room. Probably a dining room. The old carpet was rough against your elbows propping you up. You willed yourself to stop breathing as you watched their feet slowly tread in.

"I don't remember this mansion wasn't here last time we searched here," one said.

The other closed the door behind him.

"Yeah. This place is cool, but a little creepy. It's old and boring!"

"You don't suppose this mysterious mansion would have anything to do with Shigaraki's and Dabi's disappearance?"

"Hopefully, definitely not! Everyone's been looking for them for a long time. But I think the voice behind the screen cares more about Shigaraki."

You couldn't hold your breath anymore. You tried to be as quiet as you possibly could, but the small amount of air you allowed yourself just made you breathe faster and heart race. What were they doing here? Still looking for Shigaraki? You resisted the urge to peek up at them. If you could see them, they could see you. But somehow even looking at just their feet filled you with anxiety. Jumping every time one seemed to walk towards you. You wished the table was lower. That there was a long tablecloth that would hide you. That they wouldn’t see you.

"We should tell Kurogiri about this. Let's just leave."

"I agree." A moment passed. He tapped his foot against the floor. "I seem to not have a signal here."

A few seconds and some rustling. "Me neither. I'll go out and make the call."

His heavy steps left, leaving the other to wait behind, but only for a second.

"Um, you might need to see this. We're screwed."

"Hm?" He promptly left, leaving you alone.

You considered getting up and running away. But where would you hide? Would you be fast enough to hide somewhere else? Maybe you could open a win-

"How… did this happen?"

"I don't know! I just walked out and saw the ground wasn't there anymore! Or the trees or anything!"

You barely concealed a gasp. The door slammed shut and you saw two pairs of feet walk in once more. They debated for what felt like hours. Your nerves were shot and it felt like your elbows had rugburn. Finally, they walked up the stairs. You waited just a little longer until you heard a door closed. And even longer, until you were sure.

You slid yourself out from under the table. That couldn't be true, right? You ran to the door on your tippy toes, wincing every time you made the slightest sound. The door opened after a gentle twist.

You looked out. And sure enough. There was nothing beyond the porch but an endless black. Not the kind of black when everything's too dark to see. Even then, the shadows had depth. This.. seemed to stretch on forever.

You rushed back in and grabbed a vase on a wooden stand. Fragile white with turquoise lines that formed diamonds. You almost felt bad for what you were about to do. You lowered the vase to the dark, one hand on the floor board while the other reached down as far as you could with the vase in hand.

The vase never touched the ground. With a sigh, you let go of it. It dropped and dropped. Fell and fell, slowly spinning… until you couldn’t see it anymore. You listened for a crash, some sign that it reached the bottom, but the only sound was your own breath.

No bottom in sight.

This had… this had to just be some sort of quirk. Some sort of… defense for someone living there. It was the only explanation. That had to be it. You weren't trapped there with no way out, right?

You sat up. You cautiously glanced into the room before stepping in. You hadn’t noticed that it should be too dark to see anything. But somehow you could, like dim light coming from a moon that didn't exist.

A red carpet led to the staircase, then split to go up each set of stairs. Between the two sets of stairs was a book on a stand. One you hadn’t noticed.

You opened up a window and looked out. The void was still there. Still wrapping around the mansion. The only thing that existed now was you and this house. And the villains.

You wrestle with your pocket while dashing to a dark corner beside a table, and ripped your phone out. It nearly fell out of your hands as you turned it on and dialed the first contact you saw. Dial tone. The number was unavailable. You texted your parents. The text couldn't get through. Zero bars. You could get onto social media or make a Google search. But you could post or message anyone. Not one word, not on a single forum.

Your hands trembled. You ran one through your hair, grabbed onto the roots, and pulled. It didn’t even hurt. Nothing to distract you from your situation.

What to do. What to do. Well, hiding there was doing nothing good. Maybe you could search for a way out. Or find the owner and tell them what had happened.

There was no way you were going through the dooring up the stairs. You wanted to avoid the villains at all costs. You picked the door on ground level to the right. Book shelves were lined against the wall. There was no dust, but something gave you the feeling they hadn't been used in a long time. No lights, but strangely lit like the room before. You walked through the next door. A bedroom. The bed was sloppily made. Maybe it was the lack of people, but something unsettled you. Nothing felt quite right. But perhaps this was reasonable considering nothing else about the mansion was normal.

You reached for the knob of yet another door when you heard footsteps on the other side. That was your chance. You should have seen who it was, if they could have helped you. But there had been almost no real sign of anyone being in the mansion up until then. Even with the used bed, what if the villains had found another way downstairs? What if they were about to catch you?

You turned and made a dash. Through every door you'd been through so far. You should have just hid under the bed, but you didn't think of it at the time. You just wanted to get as far as you could.

When you got back to the entrance, your heart dropped in horror when you saw the villains emerging from the doors at the top of the stairs. They hastily ran out of it and firmly closed it behind them.

"Who is that!?" The louder of the two said.

Blood pounded in your ears. You didn’t stop. You were already opening the door in the left room and pulled the door shut behind you, still running.

How did they get there? Were they actually following you? Was it someone else you had run from? Was any of this even real?

You lost track of how many rooms you had run into. This one was hardly any different from the others. Same dark red wallpaper. There was a wardrobe, but did that really make a difference? You stopped in front of a window. Black. The moment you stopped was the moment your exhaustion hit you. Your legs and chest ached. You glanced at the door quickly then stared at the window.

Was this real? Was this all some sick dream?

You opened up the window.

If this was a dream and you fell, you would wake up.

You leaned out, placing your hands on the farm and beginning to lift a knee. The whole time you just stared into the nothingness.

"Woah, that's not a good idea," a cheerful voice behind you said, pulling you back by your waist.

Your back hit the stranger's chest. You twisted your head back to see who it was. His blond hair was long enough to reach his stubble covered jawline. He looked to be in his twenties, and was familiar for some reason. None of the villains, fortunately.

You breathed a much needed, heavy sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness you're not them."

“Nope, I’m Kaminari. Kaminari Denki. Wow! It’s been forever since I’ve talked with someone new. Hi, I’m Denki. Oops I already said that.”

You raised an eyebrow at his behavior. He held you a little too tightly. It was then you noticed you were too close together, with his crotch against your rump. You, embarrassed, gently pushed him away and he let go.

“Nice to meet you too. Kaminari? That sounds familiar.”

“Maybe you heard of me from the U.A. Sports Festival?”

“U.A…? Wait! Chargebolt? One of the U.A. students that went missing two years ago!??”

“The one and only.” He puffed his chest out.

“But.. what? That’s not possible. You look like you’re twenty-five or something.”

“You’re right, I am! It’s been so long since I had someone else to talk to! Did I already say that?”

He held your hand and pulled it close to him. Electricity sparked, going straight into your hand and making you jump.

“Sorry.” He smiled with concern in his eyes. “I have a little bit of a hard time controlling it now. Especially when I’m this excited.” His other hand reached towards you.

You stepped back and pulled your hand away. “Don’t touch me, please.”

He tilted his head, like he didn’t understand. But he didn’t come any closer.

"By the way, who were you talking about earlier? I’m not who?"

"Villains! They came in here after I ran in to hide from them."

“Really? What did they look like?”

“Twice and Mr. Compress. Twice has a black and gray suit, and Mr. Compress has a top hat, a mask, and a yellow jacket. Did you see them?”

“Yeah, I did. Actually, I saw them coming this way.” He pointed towards the door he had just come from.

“What!? Oh no…” your head whipped around, eyes scanning everywhere for a place to hide.

“I know a place to hide! In here.” Kaminari opened the wardrobe.

He quickly stepped in and moved to make room for you. You slid the hanging coats and clothing to one side and closed the door with just a small crack to see. It was too cramped for you. It was uncomfortably warm, but you would take it.

Your heart pounded in your ears. It was hard to see anything in the room with the small slit. Even then, you prayed they wouldn’t see you through the crack. If they did, you’d be finished with nowhere to run.

His fingers were against your waist, something you hardly even noticed because of the adrenaline. But they began rubbing circles into you, small tingles of electricity tickled you. One slipped down to the dip where your legs attached to the rest of your body. He pressed against your butt, at first you assumed it was simply him adjusting and the lack of room, but he didn't move. In fact, he pushed himself flush against you. You felt something warm and hard between your cheeks through the fabric of yours and his pants. If you tried to back away, the wardrobe door would open more, and the villains might come in any time.

"Please stop," you whispered.

He didn’t stop. He rubbed his head against the back of yours. He breathed in contently.

His hand rubbing you fell to your hip, then up again, into your shirt. You felt him drag against your soft skin. Reaching up to your bra. He made a clumsy effort to slip beneath it before squeezing and massaging it with the bra still on. Tiny sparks from his fingertips only drew your attention to this. You jolted when one ran over your nipple.

"Hey," you tried to sound angry, but it came out as a whine.

Much to your dismay, you felt your core growing unbearably warm. You wanted to stop him, but you froze. Your breaths were heavy. It didn’t help when he dipped his hand into your pants. Electricity somehow teased your clit through your panties. You barely held the moan in your throat.

"We can't be doing this," you said as a final attempt, "What if they hear?"

His lips fluttered against your skin. "Who will hear?"

"What do you mean? The villains… they are…" Did he actually see them coming?

He chuckled and ran a finger against your waistband. "We're gonna have some fun."

#kinktober #kinktober 2021 #kaminari x reader #denki x reader #kaminari denki x reader #denki x reader smut #smut #tw:noncon #I finally got it done

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stormblessed95 · 3 years ago

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My Thoughts While Watching Memories 2020 Discs 1 - 3

Had multiple people ask me to post my thoughts and feelings about moments from memories as I make my way through the DVDs. Here are my thoughts condensed and definitely not all of them or over everything from the first 3 discs! 💜💜 Like I said before, I typed most of this out as texts to @1imstillme3 and I'll mostly be copy/pasting over here with some refinements and adds in. If you are not wanting to see spoilers for things in the memories DVDs and talk about moments that happen, please just skip over this post!

Disc 1

BangBangCon The Live

Track list:

Dope

Boyz with Fun

Just One Day

Jamais Vu

Respect

Friends

Short snippets of UGH and Zero O'clock

Black Swan

Boy With Luv

GoGo

Anpanman

Spring Day

This whole first Disc was just the concert performance. It was amazing, as we should all know. My favorite performances personally were Boyz with Fun (Tae and Hobi! And they were all just having fun!), Just One Day (Jin and JK with the rose! the smiles!), the previews of UGH/00:00 (their voices, their engery, Jimin! Yoongi!), the units (i love them so much. Namjoon having a blast in particular and Vmin giggling at the end), Boy with Luv (the umbrellas!!) and Gogo (Jungkook! Their energy!). I'm bad at narrowing things down. Sue me. Also Jungkook laying directly in front of the TV with a giant smile watching Vmin perform friends and then comparing his pinky to Jimins as soon as Vmin get back to the group makes me SOFT. Hobi making bracelets for all the members over Vlive and then giving tbem out to everyone in between songs was the sweetest freaking thing. He is the sweetest man in the world. Protect him. Including ARMY in the group hug at the end was insanely adorable.

Disc 2

BangBangCon Behinds, including VCR, Rehearsals, Dance Practice and D-Day making films:

It was the absolute cutest. Bang bang con morning of interactions and how they all showed up to the set were almost separated by unit which was funny. The 2seokkook unit with Jamais Vu. And then NamGi and Vmin showed up at varying times together too. It was cute.

Hobi, Jin and JK are eating before they get ready for Bang Bang Con and they are 100% parenting the hell outta JK 🤣 worried about his sleep, how he is eating, if he is getting enough sunlight. "I told you to get 30 minutes of sunlight a day, it's good for you" JK just smiling and nodding along.

Hobi leading dance practices and giving advice is one of my favorite things to watch. Like 100% absolutely. And Jin worked so hard, relearning the choreo on his own time since he had to miss group rehearsals the first 2 days.

Jimin took charge a lot during practice with the umbrellas, it was really nice to see him working so hard to get the details right. Hobi stayed later than everyone to review details of their practice all the time and remember what they needed to work harder on the next day. Just main dancer things

Jimin praising Tae for his idea to do BWL with Umbrellas and the different things he came up with for the performance. And then both Jihope reaching over to touch on him and praise him. It was so sweet and cute.

NamJin saying that their families were watching BBC together too 😭😭 all so precious. It is obvious they all worked so so hard to give us the best show they could. It was clear that it was odd and weird for them to do this performance for the first time without ARMY but they made it work. Yoongi kept saying make some noise anyway and Jin kept trying to include us in their conversations regardless. JK kept reading the comments and being so cute. I love them so much!

Disc 3

MOTS7 Dance Practice Film:

Remember the clip of JM teaching Tae cartwheels and how soft it was? What they didn't include was JK being junping when he saw them and teasing V by saying HE can do cartwheels and being like I can even do it on both sides. And then did some cartwheels and almost kicked Jin in the face 🤣🤣🤣 Suga also was so perplexed. He was asked what are you doing like 3 times and finally was just "No really. Why are we doing cartwheels right now? What is happening?" And JK was doing his cartwheels and vmin totally ignored him to continue doing their own thing. Namjoon also was asking why they are doing this right now and was confused. Lmao just Maknae line things I guess. But still that was such a cute moment with Vmin.

Jimin is so hardworking. So talented. He took charge so much with helping the members with things and with his solo dances here

Everyone complaining about being stiff and needed to stretch more because of so much practice. Everyone expect 3J, dancers extraordinaire.

MOTS7 Jacket Shooting Film:

Jin should be illegal omg. He bodied this whole shoot. Every single concept. But Especially the first one. My goodness.

3J have so much fun together. It's not stop laughs every single time they do anything and they slay it at the same time. One of my favorite units ever. There was SO MUCH jihope in the MOTS7 jacket shooting video as a whole. Hobi was all over Jimin quite often.

The pyramid photo shoot was the most chaotic thing I witnessed through this whole jacket shoot. They could not stop giggling. There was so much ass grabbing. JK laying his whole body on top of Jimin connecting at every body point, literally don't think he was on anyone but JM lol. Tae looked like he grabbed Jimin's ass at one point. Tae with his hands all over Jins hips. Hobi literally grabbing and shaking Jins ass. All the hands going everywhere. All the guys teasing each other, Jin yawning. Honestly was this just an excuse to touch each other? You don't need one! 🤣 Suga just peacefully perched on top of everyone else with no worries of being squished

Honestly this whole shoot was just them having fun and sharing their positive energy with each other.

Shadow and Ego Making Films:

When Jimin visited Hobi on the Ego set he said he drove 3 hours to see him. And got all shy when Hobi was telling him how good he looked and he was dressed so nicely. And Jimin said he wanted to look nice to see Hobi 🥺 All the other guys were recording for the album so Jimin couldn't stay long because he wanted to also visit Yoongi and then he also had to go and do some recording. They work so hard and Jimin still made sure he went to see Sope on their sets and you can see how much it meant to both Hobi and Yoongi to see him and get that visit. They both perked up and had more energy after Jimin left and they continued shooting. Jimin gave them so many compliments and told Yoongi how cool he was and the set was when he watched him shoot for a bit. And he brought them both ice cream treats. An angel

Sope were also so sweet and clingy even though they weren't together. Talking about each other and wondering how they were doing for their shoots since it was at the same time. Video calling each other during break. Getting videos from the staff of what the other was doing AT THE MOMENT on their set lol just the most precious bond 🥺🥺

Black Swan MV Making Film:

Remember how everyone was saying jimin was jealous of the taekook backhug at the end of the black swan MV shooting? Or that JK was trying to make him jealous or that they broke up. Or there was some kind of tension between KM? Yeah, we get like an extra like 3 or 4 minutes of them talking during that part in memories and through that whole time, TK are just looking at Jimin like he hung the moon and the stars as he laughs and talks about the MV. How they shooting in LA and how cool Hobi is for shooting CNS internationally here in LA before. And him smiling and looking fondly back at the both of them. Jimin was laughing and having a good time but also he was exhausted. When it wasn't his turn to talk, he wasn't as animated, he was tired. If he made eye contact with TK, he looked so fond at them, and if someone else spoke to him, he responded with smiles. He was so obviously not upset and TK weren't doing anything wrong and JK wasn't trying to be petty. He looked so in love with JM honestly. We know how much he liked Jimins black swan look.

I talk ALOT about my other favorite parts of the black swan memories stuff in previous posts. You can find them on my masterlist under "Jikook posts" and then "memories 2020" topic. My favorite moment from the black swan MV making is definitely the overly flirty way they were speaking to each other when Jimin was teasing JK about getting to go home before he found out that he had to stay late with JK to be his shadow. The way he used honorifics with JK and their tone of voice. The flirt level was intense. Lmao

ON Kinetic Manifesto Making Film:

Tkkrs speading a clip around of JK checking out Tae and making it seem like a sexual thing from On Kinetic Manifesto shooting film. Cutting out the before and after bits that are actually 3J all checking out and complimenting Tae on his temporary tattoos and outfit for the shoot since he just finished getting them done and finally joined the rest of the guys 🤣🤣 He was the last one out and made a wonderful entrance. His tattoos and outfit were striking and deserving of compliments. It wasn't a sexual check out it. It was a hype up session between the dance line. I loved seeing it. It also highlights yet again, the important of context. There was no full body "I want him" check outs. It was a check out of his new tattoos down his neck/chest and face. Which, understandable. Hobi also told him that he was bringing out his inner demon for the song. Loved it!!

Jhope while reviewing footage for ON, why did all the clips I see cut it before Jhope went "wow that was hot Jimin" after they saw his shoulder move. Jimin just yes, yes thank you. And them all saying that Jimin exposing skin would bring them in more views. Lmao the ARMY call out was NOT necessary.

Jins jacket was not silver?! They decided they had too many members in black jackets so they spray painted his black leather jacket on the set!

ON MV Making Film:

Jin acted out his feelings of despair during the ON MV with the dead Dove by imagining he had worked super hard to get to max level 100 on a game and then his account was deleted and he had to start over 🤣🤣 Why are they like this? I love them.

Jin, JK and Hobi were the only ones shooting on Day 1. Hobi scolded JK teasingly to make sure he lays down and plays dead properly during his scene. When JK got to leave first, Jhope asked him to wait for him and JK just was like "what?" No idea if he waited or ditched him for home. Lol

Tae being the sweetest boy while everyone else ate snacks during JKs solo shoot, Tae went and delivered and hand fed snacks to the crew that was around and camera men and fhen fed JK a snack as soon as the camera stopped rolling. He was making sure everyone who still had to be working still got to enjoy the tasty snacks 🥺 An Angel. We don't deserve him.

Vmin dancing and being so sweet together to show the young girl on set with them how to dance so that then she could do it with Tae too. He dipped Jimin and then dipped her and I melted. They are so good with kids. The smiles were SO BIG.

SBS Inkigayo Making Film:

Vmin accounts posting Tae tapping Jimins ass as they get ready to perform black swan. Jikook accounts posting JM tapping JKs ass in the black swan pose. Reality: JM tap JK ass, Tae tap JM ass, JM tap JK, Tae tap JM.... JK confusion 🤣 Vminkook ass tapping chain

Jin and Jimin bickering over the black swan inkigayo stage. Jimin teasing that he got a lot better but he needed to move back in time so thay JM could get in. Jin saying it was the stages fault because he can communicate with the stage and it told him to dance longer. Why are they like this?!

Please. Yoongi said the stylists dressed him up in a space suit and asked if they were sending him to NASA 😂 his outfit for Inkigayo week 2 performance lmfao

Taekook being silly with the choreo before practice and then convincing all the hyungs (with Jins help) to do finger hearts during the ON bridge part since it's the last performance for the show they are filming to show ARMY love. Everyone was trying to convince Hobi to do the heart thing on stage officially since it was technically their last performance for the show. And Hobi didn't truly get on board with it until Jimin did. And when I say Jihope main dancers and the unofficial performance directors for the Tannies, this is what I mean!

When they did the hearts for the stage, everyone laughing super hard at Tae's cute heart. Namjoon told him to do it the same way for the offical recording. And then giggling over JKs dramatic heart while he sings HIS heart out on the bridge. Everyone, except Jimin. Jimin looks so freaking endeared and fond watching that playback during JKs heart part 🥺 I melted. He loves him soooooo much.

Namjoon and Jimin talking about how sad they were that they weren't performing with ARMY is taking me out 😭 Yoongi giving Jimin his signature comfort smile as he passes by knowing Jimin is sad 😭 and JK coming up to rub his neck/shoulder briefly to comfort him. Omgggg.

Wow! Okay, so that's it for the first 3 discs. Obviously this isn't even close to everything that happened. I mostly just discussed what personally stood out to me. For more in depth stuff over some Jikook moments in memories, be sure to check out my masterlist. I'll post more parts to this as I make my way through memories if people want me too! Thanks! I hope you all have a wonderful day!

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ellana-ravenwood · 4 years ago

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Sick Day - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : It’s never fun to be sick. Duh. But when you have loving parents there to take care of you, maybe it isn’t so bad ? Just short little snippets of the first time each Batkids fell ill in Wayne Manor, and how Bruce and his wife (you :D) dealt with it.

Another “burst of the moment inspiration” story, just a little drabble. Promise I’ll post something more elaborate soon :), hope you’ll like it :

My master list blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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(Thanks to that anon who mentioned the kids getting shots, that gave me with this an idea on how to start this fic :D. The original beginning was different, I think I like that one better hehe.)

"Mister Wayne, if you keep doing this, I'm not going to be able to give your son-Bruce for god's sake !"

Leslie Thompkins, for the first time in her long career, was about to lose her patience and give up on...giving a simple shot to a baby.

She has seen worried parents before, of course. The one that clung to their child’s hand, or those who would cry because their little one was in pain…

Babies that young, who had to get vaccinated for the first time, never really experienced this sort of quick pain before.

A lot of them would cry more out of surprise than because it really hurt. Oh and when the parents were extra worried, you could be sure the baby was even more likely to burst into tears, sensing his parents' distress.

Yes. doctor Thompkins gave shots to a LOT of babies, and saw a LOT of worried parents before…But never had she met someone quite like Bruce Wayne.

He always came to her when his kids were sick. He could go to a fancier office, or to one of those pricy fancy private hospitals. But no.

No because, when it came to his kids’ health, there was no one he trusted more than Doctor Leslie Thompkins.

So it was no surprise when he brought his youngest son, Thomas, to get his first shot ever. What was a surprise though, was his reaction.

"And now you know why I'm always the only one in the room when this happens."

You say, smiling apologetically to the doctor. But ah, at least your husband's reaction eased a little the tension in your body brought by the mere idea of your baby being hurt.

Every single time Leslie got the syringe close to your little one, Bruce would reflexively grab her wrist and stop her from giving the shot to his son.

Ridiculous, really.

But it seemed it was something he couldn't fight.

He apologized the first time he did it, as Dr Thompskins smiled and said it was ok, rather amused. But then the second time, it was getting clear he didn't seem to quite control himself. At the third time Bruce was visibly sweating. Dr Thompkins finally snapped as she tried for a fourth and fifth time to give a shot to little Thomas (who, at barely 2 months old, was much too young to even understand what was happening, but by his little smiles it was clear he was happy every time his father would come into his vision).

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just…I thought I could do it, but I can't."

And oh. Oh it's adorable the way he turns to you, his eyes saying "I'm sorry" as he takes his son back in his arms and holds him against his chest. You weren’t sure if it was to comfort little Tommy, or if he was comforting himself.

"I think I should just let you two handle this ?" He asks, unsure. He doesn’t want you to be mad or to think he’s abandoning you.

"I think this is a good idea Bruce, yes."

You smile at him reassuringly. It’s fine. It was always fine.

"I'm sorry, sorry I'm letting you do this alone once again. I just can't…"

"Oh it's ok my Broosh, I know you hate shots. I can handle it, and little buddy here sure can too."

Thomas coos happily as you pick him up delicately from his father's arms. Bruce resists a bit, before finally giving in and letting you take hold of the little one.

He lays a hand on his son's head, looking fondly at him (of this look he only gives his children, of this pure look full of unconditional love, and a hint of “what did I do to deserve this sort of happiness ?”) and then sighs, press a soft kiss to your forehead, murmuring a last “I’m sorry, my love” and leaves the room.

He feels a little ashamed to let you do this once again, but you've always been the strongest one out of the two. After all, you willingly decided to marry a man like him…

"Alright Mrs Wayne, ready ? And here we-oh not you too (Y/N) !"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry, I don't know what took over me, it was just a reflex too !"

You apologize, as you let go of the doctor's wrist…

Yeah, it was just a gut reaction to seeing a scary needle approaching your baby's thigh. In your line of um, nightly work, you came to be very wary, of syringes. You still remember vividly that time Tim got hit with one of Scarecrows’ needle, and how terrible this night had been...

"Ok ok, now is fine. Go. I'm ready. Go fast though, now. Now I’m not looking. Go. Go. Go."

Tears welling up in your eyes at the mere thought of this happening, you look away as you hold your son still (something he doesn't like as clearly shown by his little sound of protest, and as he starts to fuss about), and in one, two seconds…it's done.

And not a peep from your son.

He just stopped making any sound (he've always been rather vocal), his eyes went wide, and he made a face that looked like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to cry or not. Then there’s one more second, and Leslie had a soothing bandaid on his little leg, and you were holding him against your heart, and the pain was so fleeting and already gone, that he just gets over it quickly, feeling your love.

Calming down instantly, not noticing the tears in your eyes (thank god, or it’d be a sure way to make him weep too).

And so he doesn't cry. And everything is ok again.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it ?”

“Actually, it was.”

You say, barely holding your tears in, your son cooing in your arms

“Um...I was talking to Thomas.”

Leslie answers, amused. And just like that, you both burst into laughter.

After a few minutes of this uncontrollable fit of giggles, you thank Leslie for her help, and leave the room, joining your husband who had been walking back and forth in the waiting room, nervous.

He comes immediately to you and Thomas, and as soon as the boy sees his dad he smiles widely and giggles. Bruce gives him a soft smile, before turning to you :

“How was it ?”

“For me ? Not great. For Tommy ? He didn’t even utter a sound. Our little guy is brave !”

You kiss your son on his forehead, and he giggles and coos even more. There’s a short silence, before Bruce says :

“I’m sorry...”

And then he takes you in his arms, sandwiching little Thomas who’s protesting a bit. Damn, his parents could be so clingy !

“It’s ok my Broosh, I already told you. It’s ok.”

You sort of knew since you stepped into the doctor’s room that you’d end up being the one having to hold your boy anyway.

You knew oh too well how squeamish he was whenever HE had to get a shot done (and oh who would’ve thought the big bad bat hated getting shots so much uh ? You were pretty sure he would rather getting actually shot than take a tiny needle in his arm any day of the week...Alfred always had to fight with him to inject anesthesia when treating him for wounds). It was actually sort of a requirement, that you’d be next to him to give him your hand when he absolutely had to get a shot.

So understandably so, he always skipped on his children’s vaccins. He just couldn’t bear to see anyone he cared for to get that very things he hated so much, it just made him feel ill.

And you’ve always been fine with this. Since that very first day when you took Dick there...But Bruce always felt bad.

Because whenever you’d get out of the doctor’s office, you’d have fresh tears in your eyes, because you were just too pure for this world (is what Damian would say).

Dick always took advantage of this. He was never really scared of shots, and thought they didn’t really hurt...But oh, oh he would always cry a river of crocodile tears just so he’d get extra cuddles and ice cream.

And then, that cheeky little bugger passed that knowledge of “when we get shots, or we get sick, the parents literally let us do WHATEVER we want !” to his little siblings (you were actually pretty sure your kids would pass secret ways to manipulate you and Bruce along to their younger siblings and..you were oddly fine with it. You loved those kids too much to care, really).

This thought reminded you of that very first time Dick fell sick, shortly after you and Bruce officially adopted him.

And how much you guys freaked out.

It was both a pleasant, and terrible memory.

And oh. Oh you already dreaded the day Thomas would have his first real fever...You still remembered how it happened, with all your other children.

“What is it ?” Bruce asks, always knowing when something was on your mind. And so you say : “Nothing bad, this just reminds me of when Dick got sick for the first time while with us...”

A light of recognition ignited in Bruce’s eyes, he knew exactly what you were talking about.

Bruce only had fond memories of when he was sick and his mom and dad would take care of him.

He thought they were the best, wether they’d hold a “barf-bucket” for him, or stay up all night because he was too feverish...

What he never realized though, is that having a sick child was actually absolutely terrifying ! Bruce often felt sick himself, when the kids were ill.....ah, but nothing ever beats those first time each of them got sick.

DICK

Dick wasn't as young as Thomas, when he first came into your life. None of them were. But he was still a cute little bean, your baby.

Eight years old, and oh so sweet and nice and cute and you could just squish his little cheeks all day (albeit from the few outburst of anger at times, but hey, he was but a child, every kid throw tantrum from times to times).

He had been living with you and Bruce in the Manor for the past six months, when you had your first fright, and realized that being a parent meant being worried about your kid's well being for the rest of your days

Dick was definitely a tiny kid when he came in your life. He was rather short, only having a growth spurt when he was around 14/15. Barbara Gordon used to tease him to no end about this, up until he finally caught up with her and ended up being taller.

But yes, his small stature for his age, maybe made you baby him even more than the others, sometimes.

Ah. That first time little Dick Grayson was sick at Wayne Manor.

You. Freaked. The. Fuck. OUT.

You and Bruce, both.

Coincidentally, Dick became ill ON THE ONLY FEW DAYS OFF ALFRED WOULD TAKE A YEAR !!

Every year, for a theater festival, Alfred would take off to his homeland, to England, in London to be exact, for but a few days.

The three of you were in the batcave. Bruce was getting ready to go out, while you were on the bat computer and Dick was training on the side, doing some acrobatics on the trampoline Bruce installed.

And then he came to you, pulling on your sleeve, and he was so pale...

“I don’t feel too well.”

He said, right before throwing up for a few way too long seconds, as tears welled up in his eyes...it was never nice to throw up, and once again, no matter how mature he acted, you were reminded that Dick was but an eight year old child.

But he wasn’t only crying because throwing up fucking sucked. He was also crying because he thought you were going to be mad at him.

You reassured him, as you cleaned his little face up, and Bruce (who looked quite green himself...later on, you’d discover than when his kids or you were sick, he felt sick too...quite a strong reaction, really) carried him upstairs.

You were frantically googling how to take care of a sick child, as Bruce stayed with Dick, holding a bark bucket to his face, and drawing soothing circles on his back with his hand.

The panic dumbed the both of you down. It seemed like you couldn’t think, as you tried to make Dick as comfortable as he could.

You could feel your anxiety blowing through the roof, and knew that Bruce was close to have a panic attack himself (he was prone to them, although you and Alfred were the only one who knew).

You didn’t know what was worst, the fact he was sick and had no idea what you were supposed to do, or how much Dick was sobbing and apologizing.

“Should we call Dr. Thompkins ?”

“I don’t know her number, Alfred is the one that calls usually...”

“Should we take him there then ?”

“I don’t know, Alfred is-”

This went on for a little bit, as Dick was throwing up and crying. Saying “sorry !” every two seconds. But...Instinctively, Bruce was trying to soothe him with those warm pats on his back. And you were caressing his hair, empathetic. And...

You decided to not go to the doctor today, Dick was sick, but not sick enough to take him to an emergency. And in Gotham ? Leslie was needed for a lot, especially in evenings like this.

“Alfred um, gives me flat soda when I have a stomach ache ?”

“On it !”

You say, bolting on your feet and running to the kitchen, taking a cola and opening it up. Meanwhile, Dick’s fit calmed down, and he seemed to instantly feel better as he probably threw everything he needed to up...

He seemed content, cuddling against Bruce as the man was softly patting his back in small circles, and using his other hand to hold his head delicately.

You and Bruce were definitely not experienced parents yet, and it showed.

It showed by those first few minutes of utter panic, as your child got suddenly sick. And it showed as how you instantly just thought of calling Alfred...

That day, you both realized though, that you couldn’t always rely on the butler when it came to raising your son. For situations exactly like that one.

Both you and Bruce were still young, and scared to make mistakes but..You had to try. And you had to keep a cool head. Your motherly instinct kicked in.

It was so odd, seeing the big bad bat, wearing his costume without the cowl on (he didn’t have time to take it off as he rushed upstairs with the boy in his arms), looking so worried...

Bruce was so pale, and you could see that in a way, he felt his son’s pain too...Which just made your head click, and take action.

“Ok, ok we can do this. Keep the barf bucket close, let’s wait for the soda to get flat, and um...let’s try to distract him. A movie, perhaps ?”

Dick nodded, and although he wasn’t throwing up anymore, he seemed too weak to stand up (or maybe he was faking, could be, honestly, with that one...doesn’t matter) so Bruce carried him again.

And it was a sight. Bruce was a tall man. And Dick was a very small kid.

It was cute. and in that moment...In that moment it felt like you both suddenly realized what it meant, to be a parent.

Bruce, holding his son in his arms, feeling the little one’s heartbeat and slowed breath as he was kinda nodding off...was this how his own father felt, when holding him ? It was nice. It was a surge of pure love, and knowing that he would die for that kid if he had to. Hell, he would burn the whole world, for that kid.

It was so odd. The situation wasn’t that crazy, Dick probably just ate something bad, and with the trampoline and all the jumping around...he got sick.

As a child, you had those rapid sick moments of having a bad stomach ache, which would turn into throwing up, to then feel better. Those sudden moments when your own parents would take care of you...

Ah. You hadn’t realized how much worry being a parent would bring. Bruce didn’t either. You guys adopting Dick felt like an obvious thing to do. Felt like it was meant to be...

But it wasn’t just yet, that you felt like a mom. Or a dad.

It took some time to build. Just like it took time for Dick to call you “mom” and “dad”. And in that moment, as your kid (yes, your kid) was sick, that was it...

Finally. Yes. That was it.

You were a mom.

Bruce was a dad.

Dick was your son.

Of course you panicked as he suddenly got sick. But now, it was in your hand to properly take care of him. And thus started the first ritual you’d ever make with one of your children.

Dick, when sick, liked chicken noodle soups. Made by you. He liked cuddles, up until he turned 12 or 13, then he acted as if he was too grown up for them. This eventually stopped when he turned 19, not long after Jason’s death...He regressed back to a little boy in some ways, and needed you. And Bruce.

You’d often drive to Bludhaven just to give him chicken noodle soup and sprite, when he got sick. Even as he grew older and older...He loved it. No one could ever beat his mom babying him, when he felt under the weather.

JASON

"Hey buddy, are you ok ?”

“Yes, yes I’m ok mom.”

He smiles at you sweetly, his eyes half-closed, and clearly still relishing in the fact that he can finally call someone “mom”. But this happiness he felt whenever he realized he was finally safe, and had a home, was oddly dimmed, this morning.

“Are you su-OH MY GOD !”

Your hand is burning, as you lay it on his forehead.

He’s burning up !

“Hey wow hey, kiddo, come here, you’re not feeling well are you ?”

But Jason shakes his head, and says :

“No I’m good. Just tired, but I’ll wake up soon.”

He smiled again, but it felt all wrong.

Of course, you didn’t take his words for it, even if you knew Jason wasn’t a liar. But the fact spoke for themselves, your kid was NOT alright. No matter what he was saying.

Turned out, you were definitely right. He really wasn’t alright.

In fact, Jason had...pneumonia. A bad case of it. That he probably caught when he was playing earlier that day, in the snow, with Bruce, staying out up until his lips were blue and he was soaking wet !! Bruce could just never resist him, and didn’t have the heart to say “no” when the kid kept asking on playing more...

He dearly regretted it. But you reassured him, this wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t.

You rushed to the hospital, Bruce holding a tiny little Jason wrapped tight in a few warm blankets. And the doctor confirmed you made the right call, taking him to the ER.

It wasn’t like with Dick, where it was obvious the boy had a mild sickness. No. Jason really looked bad, and ready to drop.

You and Bruce let once again your parental instincts kick in and...It was the right call.

When Jason woke up, he let out a string of apologies and you realized...You realized the kid was terrified you wouldn’t want him anymore if he bothered you too much. Was scared to death that you’d want to take him back where you found him, that you’d give up on him.

His real life father bolted at the first signs of troubles. His mother was a drug addict for whom he was never good enough to try and get cleaned up.

He was abandoned, over and over again along his short life and...he was absolutely terrified that if he was too much of a nuisance to you two, you and Bruce would leave him as well. That you wouldn’t bother.

And it broke your hearts.

Softly, when Jason finally got better, after a few days of utter nightmare for you and Bruce, you took him home. He still needed some rest, as he was a little sick, so you tucked him comfortably in his bed and finally, you told him :

“From now on, you promise me to tell us when you don’t feel ok ? Wether you think it’ll bother us or not. You will never bother us, little buddy, ok ?”

“Ok”, Jason said, unsure.

“What do I have to say or do, to convince you you’ll never be a nuisance to us ?”

The question took Jason by surprise, and he wasn’t quite sure of what to say. In his feverish state anyway, he had a hard time thinking. He heard himself say :

“Stay with me ?”

“Of course. Always little one, always.”

And as he softly drifted to sleep, feeling the cold and soothing towel you would wet over and over again to put on his forehead, he heard you hum a song from your childhood, that would become a song always sure to put him to sleep.

He was out, when Bruce said : “I’ll stay home tonight.” A shame, really. Because maybe, maybe if he heard that the Batman was going to skip patrol just to keep an eye on him...Then he’d know he would never bother him. Ever.

That he would forever hold a dear, prime place in his heart.

Jason woke up the next morning, and found you and Bruce asleep on the floor, right next to his bed. You were still holding a towel that had long since dried up, and one of Bruce’s hand was clutched tightly on your shirt.

The basin full of cold water laying on his bed side table was almost empty. Jason smiled.

He felt better after a few hours of good sleep, and slowly got out of the blankets, pulling them with him, to then lay down next to you two, throwing the thick quilt over all of you.

Later that day, Alfred found the three of you all cuddled up. He snatched a picture. Picture that was framed, amongst some of your favorite of your children, in your office. And in Bruce’s.

The way you sung him to sleep when he was sick...When he died, it was the last thing he thought about. When he saw the bomb would explose before Bruce could save him.

He thought of how soothing it was, to be taken care of by you. And your humming voice rung in his ears, as he realized he was going to die. Right there.

Oh. Oh he wished he could be a little sick eight years old again, forget all his worries, and just fall asleep with the sound of your voice in his ears, while his dad would hold the both of you in his arms...

TIM

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, go back to bed this instant !”

Tim was the most difficult one, when he had a fever. He was a bit of a workaholic (like father like son ?), and always wanted to help. He hated being too sick because then he felt useless.

Your boy just wanted so much to be there for everyone, that he often forgot himself in the process and...yes.

His first real fever/sickness was punctuated by you constantly trying to get him back into bed.

You almost never even knew Tim was sick !

The boy was so used to taking care of himself, that he tried to handle everything on his own. He even took an appointment to the doctor himself ! But then, before having the chance to go there, he passed out in school, which resulted in a call from his principal that ended in Bruce almost having a heart attack.

You understood him of course. It wasn’t really a nice feeling to be called out during a business meeting to have someone tell you your son passed out in school !

It was just a little flu, but the fever and lack of sleep got the best of him.

Bruce didn’t even tell anyone where he was going, as he rushed to the school. You met him there, as he was walking out of the building, with a little sleepy Tim in his arms.

“I can walk, I swear I can walk.”

The boy was saying, yet his head was on his dad’s shoulder, and the up and down bobble of Bruce’s walk was clearly putting him to sleep.

Your husband settled your son in the car, and drove home.

“He was trying to convince me he could finish his school day, and that he had a group work today and didn’t want to let his friends down...”

“Sounds like Tim alright...”

You said, looking back at his sleeping form in the back seat.

Bruce nods, but you could see something was on his mind. You always knew, when something was on his mind. Brushing a few fingers on his cheeks, you ask :

“What is it, my Bruce ?”

His eyes are on the road, of course. But he flicks them quickly to you, and he knows. He knows he can’t lie to you, or get away with telling you half-truth.

You’ll know, if he’s not really telling you what has been worrying him. He takes a deep breath and, with a small voice says :

“Is this...my fault ?”

At first, you don’t understand, and you say :

“I’m pretty sure it’s because that boy never wears a damn sweater, and we’re in Gotham in the middle of Winter haha.”

But then...Then you realize what he means.

He’s talking about the fact that Tim always seem to overcompensate for something. Always seem to want to be there for everyone, forgetting sometimes he’s just a ten years old boy.

Tim was the only one out of his siblings that became Robin for no personal reason, but just because he loved Batman and wanted to help him. Just because he wanted to help people.

He didn’t have a tragic backstory (although he unfortunately got one later on...), he didn’t have a reason to become Robin, other than his good nature and really wanting to help...

And Bruce let him. Allowed him to do this. Even after what happened to Jason, he let Tim sneak in your life and become Robin.

You’d argue that Tim didn’t leave you guys much of a choice, and sort of had a “well I’m gonna help you no matter what, deal with it” sort of attitude. But you understood your husband’s worries.

He was afraid that he was the one that made him that way. That it was because of him, that Tim worked his health off.

“Oh, Bruce, my Heart...No. No it’s not your fault. It’s just how this amazing little boy is wired. I actually think that thanks to you, he’s more focused and taken care of. The gods can only imagine what Tim Drake would’ve done if he hadn’t been trained by Batman himself...If you said “no” to him pestering you about becoming your Robin, he would’ve taken it upon himself to go out there anyway. And then...I can only imagine what would’ve happened. So no. No it’s not your fault. It’s just...how he is. He reminds me of you a lot, actually. And I’m so, so glad he managed to convince you...Couldn’t imagine my life without that little one in it. Even if he does give me grief often, overworking like that. But it’s not your fault. It’s not. On the contrary.”

It took you a while, to convince Bruce he didn’t create Tim the way he sort-of created Dick and Jason. But you managed to, as you always did. You could be very convincing. Plus, the boy helped. It was clear his dedication came from himself mainly, that he was just born this way.

Too clever and smart for his own good, destined to be a Robin...and maybe a Batman, one day ?

Yes. Tim was the only one that wasn’t in it for himself. For personal reasons. He just wanted to help...

But after that first time he got sick, he understood that sometimes, it was ok to rely on you or his die. That in fact, he would gladly do so !

That day, Bruce carried him to his bed, even as the boy protested he was alright. Finally, you’ve had enough and ended up sort of lecturing him...gently.

“You need to rest, sometimes, ok ? If it’s too much, if you’re too tired, physically AND mentally, you need to take a few steps back...and let others take care of things, and of you. Ok ?”

“But-”

“No buts Timmy. It’s important. If something bad happens to you because you’ve been ignoring your own body, your own self...What will happen to those you want to help ? In order to continue what you’re doing, you need to take some pauses. Like right now. You are sick. You passed out in school. So...It’s gatorade and crackers time.”

Gatorade and crackers.

Tim’s favorite drinks and food.

Gatorade and crackers.

Two things that were rarely found in Wayne Manor. You always tried to give healthy balanced meals to your kids. Especially to Tim, who had the opposite of a balanced diet when he came into your lives (the fact he often had to take care of himself as his parents were too busy meant he often chose his own food...and of course he’d rather have ice cream than broccolis).

But the fact that you were now giving him Gatorade and crackers meant...Meant that Dick was right. When they were sick, you would do anything to make them comfortable.

Coincidentally though, Gatorade and saltines helped out, when one was sick.

On that first time he became sick after starting to live with you, Tim found that it was ok, to relax sometimes. That he didn’t have to waste his life away 24/7 for others, and that he could enjoy some down time.

It only happened when he was sick, to your great dismal. You constantly tried to convince him to take a break (just like you did with Bruce...but although it worked with your husband, especially as he got older, Tim was just very stubborn, and wanted to help too damn much). You even had to trick him into it often.

So although you hated seeing your kids in any kind of pain, you were almost glad when Tim got sick. Because it meant he would really take care of himself. Or rather, letting you take care of him.

That first time he got sick, he ended up leaving his bed...only to go cuddle up in yours and Bruce’s, and enjoy some down time. And learn that, it was ok, to take care of himself.

Hell. You’d hammer this fact in his head if you had to.

Gatorade and crackers, while watching movies in yours and Bruce’s big bed, was why Tim thought that in the end, being sick wasn’t too bad.

Extra points if you two were in the bed with him, snuggled up all nice, safe and warm.

CASSANDRA

Cassandra didn’t like TV, when she was sick. Instead, she liked you reading her stories better. And you’d read to her all day, if need be. Switching from time to time with your husband.

She had trouble sleeping, even when sick and weak. Listening to your voices telling her all those wonderful stories was soothing beyond measure.

The first time she fell sick while at Wayne Manor though, her first reflex was to go hide. Because when she used to be sick with the man who called himself her “father”, with David Cain (that scum), he used to get so mad at her.

As if it was her fault, she became sick.

So she’d run away. Curl into a ball. Wait for it to pass. And then face him, healthy again. It was easier to confront him when she was ok...So she’d rather run away and face the consequences, rather than stay around him while sick.

And so, her first instinct was to go hide.

She went to the attic, and did what she used to do.

Curled up in a ball, in front of the round window. And wait. Alone.

It’s Bruce, who found her. He was casually checking the GPS he put on his children. They still thought they got rid of it, the sweet kids...but as if he��d only implant one. He knew it wasn’t really ethical, but after what happened to Jason, he wasn’t willing to take any chances.

During the day, he would check a few times, and usually during boring office meeting, to see where they were. That day, he saw Cass in the Manor’s attic, and didn’t think much of it. Cass was a curious one, who took it upon herself to explore everything in the house.

But when he came home, and she was still there, his guts told him something was wrong...He rushed to the attic, and found her.

And his heart stopped, when he saw her laid on the floor, curled up into a ball, and softly moaning because she had a bad fever.

She wasn’t asleep, even in this state she fought sleep, afraid to have nightmares (and while having a fever, she couldn’t just wake up to escape them...).

Bruce carried her out of the attic, holding her tight in his arms, his heart bleeding as he realized why she isolated herself while she needed help.

People often misjudged Bruce on that matter. Saw him as a cold harsh man. But oh; oh if it was touching his children or you...He would feel so much. Too much, even. He just loved you all to death.

When he brought her downstairs, and you saw her, you immediately entered “mom mode” and fussed over her, getting everything you needed to make her comfortable...but as it turned out, all she wanted was to feel yours and Bruce’s presence.

To hear your voice, and feel you were there.

And so without thinking, you picked up a book and started to read it to her. And you could feel her relax, let her guard down. A rare occasion she would truly let herself be chill.

The first time Cass got sick while living under your roof, her first instinct was to hide and lick her wounds all by herself. It was to lie on the floor and hope it would pass fast. It was-

The second time she felt under the weather, she immediately went to you. It was early in the morning. And it’s only thanks to Bruce’s amazing reflexes that Cass didn’t throw up all over you two, as he pulled you away from her just in time...To then take care of changing the sheets, while you held your daughter’s hair as she threw up in the master’s bathroom’s toilet.

And then Bruce went downstairs to take a “barf-bowl”, the one actually, that her mom used to take for him...ah. He always used that one for all the kids. Call it nostalgia.

The second time Cass got sick while under your care, she didn’t hide. She wasn’t dreading it, even as she got even sicker than the first time. No.

No because now, she knew she’d always find you so you could take care of her. Ah, and Dick, Jason and Tim gave her many tricks to fake being sick and have you all for herself...

DUKE

Duke was older than any of your kids were when he started to live at the Manor. He was already in his teens. He wasn't a tiny bean like the rest of them, when he came in your family...

And yet. Yet the first time he fell sick, you babied the hell out of him.

So what if he was sixteen ? Doesn’t mean he couldn’t have all the care a child should have when he wasn’t feeling well.

And so you were ready to take care of him, when Alfred came to you this morning to tell you “Master Duke” wasn’t feeling well.

However, when you got to his room and indeed saw he was feverish, he refused to talk to you and just wanted to be alone.

And then it hits you.

Duke was sixteen.

He wasn’t a lost little eight years old boy who had just lost his parents, or never even had parents. He wasn’t a child in dear need of love and cuddles.

He was sixteen.

And he wanted HIS mom.

What happened to his parents was too fresh.

And they weren’t dead...In a way, seeing them lose their mind with no chance of ever getting better was worst.

Duke was sixteen.

And there, sick, all he wanted was to have his mom’s care again.

Yes. Duke’s case was different than all your other children. Because his parents were still there. Because he was older. Because everything was so fresh, at the moment.

In time, in the coming years, he would come to feel just like his siblings did. But right there, just mere few weeks after he moved to the manor, and mere few days after Bruce helped him find his parents...

Duke was homesick.

He missed his dad. But he missed his mom even more. Probably for the same reason that your kids loved to have you around so much, when they were sick...

There was no doubt in your mind that Duke’s mom was amazing at taking care of him when he felt ill. She probably had her own tricks, to make him feel better. Tricks that you did not know...And so you asked.

You simply asked.

Because you wanted to make him feel better. You wanted to be there for him, even if right now, he didn’t want you around.

If he truly wanted to be left alone, you’d leave some medicine and leave him be. But your guts were telling you he was just sad, and the sad was translated into him pretending he wanted to be alone.

Your guts were right.

Duke wanted his mom. Yes. But he also didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, right now...He just didn’t want to hurt your feelings. He knew how motherly you could be. He didn’t want to project his mother on you. He-

“What do you need ?”

You asked, and the answer came to his mind instantly. He spoke before even realizing he was doing it :

“My mom used to make a perfect drink of warm water, honey, ginger and lemon.”

And as you tried to recreate his mom’s drink, never quite getting the measurements right (you could see on his face it wasn’t like his mother’s), Duke slowly felt better.

Because...Because yes. He missed his mom. And the way she took care of him. Especially on sick days. But...It wasn't everywhere that one could find someone who cared so much, that they were willing to spend their entire day trying to get a drink right, right ?

And when Bruce came home, and asked him if he was “alright champ ?”, Duke realized one thing...

Yes. He wanted his parents. Yes, he missed them like hell. Yes, his sick days would never be the same...

But he wasn’t alone. As Bruce joined in trying to make the perfect drink of “warm water, honey, ginger and lemon”, Duke came to the realization that his situation wasn’t as desperate as he thought, this morning, when he woke up feeling under the weather, and without his mom to take care of him.

Because you were still there. And were planning on staying there for a very long time. Of course, you could never replace his mom. Just like you never replaced Dick’s, or Damian’s...You just, became another mom to them.

And Duke...That first day of being sick in Wayne Manor ? He felt like he was finally willing to let you become his second mom. To let Bruce become a father figure. To have this found family, in this tough times...

Sick days were never the same than when he was a little kid and still had his parents around.

Duke was sixteen. Growing up wasn’t easy, especially after what he went through. And sick days would never be the same...But it didn’t mean they wouldn’t be nice, as he slowly let you and Bruce, and his newfound siblings, take care of him.

Yes. To have this found family in this tough times was quite a joy.

DAMIAN

To the surprise of many, Damian actually didn’t resist too much being taken care of when he first got sick under your roof.

Damian actually loved being sick, because it meant snuggles time with you, safe and warm under a blanket on the couch, watching his favorite movies. It meant your soothing fingers running in his hair, making him feel peaceful and relaxed.

It also meant that he’d have you all for himself.

With five siblings (with a sixth one on the way), it wasn’t always the easiest thing ever, to get his mom only for himself. Yes. He loved to be sick, and babied by you.

The first time he got a bad fever, a few months after he arrived at the Manor, he dreaded falling ill because...

Well. Because he was raised in the League of Assassins. And being sick, no matter how much, was not considered reason enough to not train. To not do what his grandfather told him to do.

He used to work through the sickness. Even if he felt like passing out (and he did, a few times, which earned him hours from his sleeping time taken away...).

So Damian hated being sick.

Until. Until he became ill for the first time when living with you.

By that time, you and Bruce had learned how to manage a sick child. And although Bruce still felt physically ill too whenever his children were, he managed nowadays to be somewhat ok and take care of them without wincing.

It happened not long after Damian started to call you “mom”. He fell asleep while you guys were watching a movie and...it’s what instantly told you something was wrong.

No matter how bad a movie would be, Damian would NEVER fall asleep in the middle of it.

Ah, and sure enough, as you checked his temperature you realized he had a bad fever. And so you carried him to his room, tucking him into bed.

He woke up as you were doing that, and looked at you, utterly surprised. What was going on ?

“Get some rest buddy, you’ll feel better soon.”

You said, smiling. And at first, Damian didn’t understand. He had been so conditioned in ignoring his own well being, that he didn't realize something was wrong with him. But then, you laid a hand on his forehead, and said :

“Ah it doesn’t seem like it’s such a big sickness, I’ll go get you some medicinal tea and...What do you want to eat ? If you’re hungry ? Maybe you’re not, sometimes when I’m sick I just don’t wanna eat anything.”

Sick ? Was he...Sick ? Yes. He was. But it was so mild, that he didn’t even think he needed to rest. Or...Didn’t he ? He was just so used to still work even when sick.

“What-What about school ?”

He asked, and he was surprised his voice sounded so weak and tired. Was he always feeling like that when sick ? Yes. But...Something was different.

And then it hit him.

“I think it’s ok if you skip a few days’ buddy.”

The difference was that, when he was sick while amongst the League of Assassins, he was always terrified that his grandfather got tired of him and send him hitmen (it happened a lot before, while he was sleeping for example, and it always happened to test him, test if he was ready, and willing to kill and ask questions after). That he didn’t find him useful enough.

While here, with you, he felt safe. He felt loved. He felt warm.

And so his body wasn’t in a “fight or flight” state. He was just...sick. As any normal kid would be.

When with the Al’Ghul, he somehow managed to convince himself to keep going, to work through the pain. And oh, it’s wonders, what the brain can do when you really want to.

But here. Here he didn’t have to act tough. To keep walking or he’d end up dead. Here. Here he was safe. And loved.

So he felt the sickness, the fever. He felt it’s true effect.

“What do sick people eat ?”

He asked, and at first you didn’t think much of it. You started to tell him Dick loved chicken noodle soup while Tim preferred saltines. Cass would never eat much, neither would Jason, but they’d always say yes to some flat sodas.

He seemed unsure of what he wanted, so you asked him a simple question :

“What do you usually eat, when you’re sick ?”

It was such an innocent question. But it made him almost cry.

Usually ?

Usually...

“Well...”

He hesitates, and you sense there’s more to things than you originally thought. Finally, after looking at your encouraging smile, he says :

“When I was sick before, I still had to train. And then they’d tell me I’m weak.”

In one sentence, you understand everything. And you could punch yourself for ever thinking that he got taken care of when sick. And then the next second, you hold him tight in your arms, and once again, Damian is surprised.

But pleased. He had been touched starve most of his life, this was nice.

“My poor baby...”

He didn’t even complain you called him a baby, and let you hug him. And then...Then you spend time with him, trying to find the perfect ritual to make him feel better while he was sick.

You had such rituals with everyone. Formed on the day they first got sick. Damian needed his own thing too...

Thus was created the “couch nest”.

It involved covering the living room’s couch with at LEAST one quilt, then Damian would bring the pillows (and maybe some stuffs animals, or even real ones...Titus often sneaked in) from his bed, and you would tuck him in with one or two more quilts.

He would then spend the rest of the time watching TV and movies with you. Or with his siblings. Or his dad.

And it was so comforting, to be wrapped up like that. Almost like laying in a hug. It made him feel like he was perpetually held by you.

Damian used to hate being sick. Because he hated being weak.

But this changed. Just like he changed. Thanks to his family. Thanks to you.

Now, just like Tim, he almost loved, being sick...

************

“This sort of reminds me of that time Dick got his first fever...”

You were thinking about all those terrible, yet sweet days, of your children being sick, as you walked up the stairs to your house, a hand tightly weaved around your husband’s.

Bruce was holding a sleeping Thomas in one of his arm (the boy was so small he could even fit in one of his hand, really), and felt relaxed. Here. With his son, and his wife, the love of his life. And with the knowledge than when you’d push the door to your house open you’d-

“Father ! Mom ! How is he !?”

Both you and Bruce quickly put a finger on your lips, and Damian throws his hands on his mouth, regretting his scream. But he was just so worried.

He couldn’t come with you to the doctor’s office as he had school (plus you were pretty sure he would’ve been 100 times worst than Bruce, trying to stop Leslie by any means necessary), and had been thinking about his little brother’s first shot all day.

Damian, just like his dad, wasn’t very fond of shots. He hated that his brother (wether the youngest one, or one of the older one, really) had to go through this.

It was always silly to you, how both Bruce and Damian, who’ve been through much worst than small little shots, hated those so much...Silly, and very cute.

Damian was looking critically at his brother, checking him silently for any signs of distress, for any “mistakes” Doctor Thompkins would’ve done, and seemed satisfied that the boy was fast asleep in his dad’s arm.

And Bruce...Bruce was smiling.

He felt so relaxed. And happy.

When you pushed that door, it opened on Damian rushing to the two of you, worried about his little brother. But it also opened on Alfred, who baked some comforting food, and brewed some tea for you, knowing how hard on you this sort of things could be (and yet how you insisted to take your kids to the doctor yourself, and not let Alfred do it, because you wanted to be there for them).

It opened on Cass smiling, and ruffling Damian’s hair as to reassure him.

It opened on Tim, who took a small break from his college study to come down and spend some times with his siblings, ready to relax in front of a movie (it was family movie night !).

It opened on Duke, who’s hands were full of DVDs, and who was excited to try to convince y’all to watch “Ninja and Pirates 6″, or something of the like.

It opened on Jason, who was smiling in such a way that no one would ever know all the things he went through. And it made Bruce feel all nice and warm inside...even as the little shit mimicked him having to take a shot. Squirming and looking as if he was about to faint. And ah, he hated to admit it, but his boy was impersonating him really well.

And it opened on Dick. His first kid. The one that, one day when getting sick, was who made Bruce realize what it truly meant to be a dad. The one who knew the best how much he hated seeing any of his children sick, or getting shots.

On Dick, who was laughing really hard at Jason’s impersonation, and giving him feedbacks about what to improve to make it even better.

The door opened on his family.

And as the ruckus surrounding him woke Thomas, as Damian yelled at Jason and Dick for being so loud, and as Bruce’s eyes fell on you, while you looked at your little tribe with love in your eyes...

Bruce felt relaxed. And so, so, oh so happy.

________________________________________________

This is yet another one of those stories I’ve been posting a lot lately, that do not take me very long to write and in which I don’t put that much effort, but that I really enjoy writing nonetheless ^^. And I hope you enjoyed reading it :), I’m nervous actually this isn’t up to your standards hahaha...Yes, hope you still liked it. Don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback etc etc ^^. Thanks in advance !

See you soon with something much longer and on which I spend a lot of time working ;).

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moveslikebucky · 3 years ago

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WIP Wednesday

Hello so it's Wednesday huh? I am so bad about actually posting these but today I have stuff I would really like to share! It's from me and @ouidamforeman's ghosts AU, Night of the Living Boyfriend!, as we soldier on into Chapter 4 and further into Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship and their time spent apart over the summer!

And since I haven't posted one of these in a while, I'm giving y'all a nice and long look at a currently unedited part of the next chapter! A quick content warning for blood in this snippet, but that's kind of just what you get with this Crowley.

---

The bus ride from the airport felt like an eternity, spread out across several miles of beautiful New England countryside that Aziraphale couldn’t even find the good sense to enjoy. Every moment spent in a queue waiting to find out his class schedule made his skin prickle with frustration. Why couldn’t things just move? Didn’t the world know he had better things to do?

Summer with his family had been… well, par for the course honestly. Lots of time alone, secluded from the family he never liked to interact with. Lots of implications about him having the ‘good sense to keep his morals about him’. As though Tadfield University cared one crumb about the family name. As though anyone did anymore. His family was still powerful, but in an old money way that didn’t carry as much weight as it used to. And he’d never wanted any of it anyway.

There were letters, written but never sent. How do you address a letter to a ghost? “The Haunted House Down the Lane” written on an envelope doesn’t really do anything. But he wrote them anyway. Well over a dozen, full of confessions he wasn’t ready to say. It made him feel closer, even though the months with Crowley had felt more like a fever dream than anything else.

Finally, with the schedule finally in hand after what felt like years, Aziraphale was able to return to his apartment. He didn’t even stop to unpack, simply opening the door and throwing his suitcases in before closing it behind him. He had much more important places to be.

He fully expected, if he were honest, that the whole thing never happened. That he’d arrive at the old dilapidated Nutter House and find it completely empty, grown over with vines and cobwebs. No cassette deck, no blankets to keep out the chill, no little plant being nursed back to health.

Aziraphale’s feet carried him down the familiar path as soon as the bus doors opened; muscle memory taking him past the familiar trees at the end of the sidewalk, further into the woods. The leaves were just starting to shift from their verdant green into shades of orange and yellow, the heat of August doing nothing to stem the seasons from changing.

Soon enough, he was at the door of the old house. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, reminded himself that this was somewhere he was wanted. But as he reached for the doorknob, he paused.

Three months had passed. It was a long time. Long enough for someone to move on, if they didn’t hear from someone. Long enough for someone to pass on, if Crowley had found what was tying him to this world. Long enough to be forgotten.

He shook his head, those thoughts wouldn’t do. Either Crowley would be there or he wouldn’t, and at the end of the day it didn’t matter one way or the other. Crowley was his friend first, before everything else that had come along.

Aziraphale knocked politely before turning the knob and letting himself in. The house was unusually cold for the tail end of summer, but it often was. That was one thing all the books on ghosts got right, at least.

“Crowley? Are you here?” Aziraphale asked the empty space as he walked through the house he’d become so familiar with. He made his way through the kitchen, towards the stairwell. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the withered snake plant, flourishing and bright on the kitchen counter, soaking up the sun coming in through the window.

He poked at the soil, finding it just a tad bit on the dry side. It could probably do with a little water at least, and Crowley sometimes took a while to manifest. He took one of the dingy glasses to the outside tap, feeling a cold chill up his spine as he crossed the threshold. So it was going to be like that, was it?

“Goodness me, it’s ever so boring here all by myself. Just me and the plant. The only friend I have to talk to,” Aziraphale said, chewing the scenery of the kitchen for all it was worth. “Woe is me, to be all alone in a crumbling old house. I hope nothing horrible happens to me while I’m minding my own business, watering this plant.”

The cold dripped in slowly, a slight chill prickling at his senses. Like the first sip of strawberry cordial on a July afternoon. It dipped lower and lower still, enough to make Aziraphale shiver. He could see the puffs of his breath in the air as a cold wind came on with a moan right through the small kitchen. A gurgling noise started in the sink basin. Aziraphale looked inside to see a glowing mass of ectoplasm and blood bubbling up from the drain. How dramatic, he thought to himself. Though he supposed after a summer alone he could afford Crowley a bit of dramatics.

The bubbling continued, viscous glowing red blood filling the sink basin, overflowing and spilling onto the floor as Aziraphale rolled his eyes. It creeped across the floor, leaving an iridescent trail in its wake, before coming together and materializing into something – someone – not altogether corporeal.

“Hi,” Crowley said, with his trademark half smirk, eyes glowing red behind the sunglasses he had died in.

“At least there isn’t blood dripping from your mouth this time,” Aziraphale pointed out, unable to contain the fondness slipping into his words.

“Three months away and that’s all you can say?” Crowley asked, trying to look hurt but smiling too wide for the ruse to be successful.

“All you can say is ‘hi’, so what does that say for either of us?” Aziraphale crossed his arms, leaning against the still-bloody counter and raising an eyebrow.

The moment wasn’t awkward, not really. But it was charged. It was a moment that held all of the weight of the past three months of separation. Of no way to keep in touch. Of unsaid words and unsent letters. Aziraphale broke first. “I missed you, my dear.”

The smirk on Crowley’s face shattered, splintering across his features into something much larger and more real. “Missed you too, angel.”

#text #wip wednesday #my fic #good omens #book omens #cw blood #so excited to be working on this again i hope y'all are ready for it #they're gonna hurt in this chapter though :'c

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recurring-polynya · 3 years ago

Note

i’m gonna try out my luck for the renji bday thing😭

- renji being a mediator between rukia and ichika(idk why i feel like rukia and ichika would get into rly dumb arguments and just fight like they’re the same age)

- renji and ichika get a tattoo

- jealous rukia(of course)

- anything that takes place in inuzuri, i loved your ‘dumb teens stealing kisses’ snippet so much 😭

- more of the tattoo artist renji falls for a client AU

I hope you’ll forgive me for cheating a bit, but when I saw this, I said, “what if I just gave you more of the dumb teens stealing kisses” fic? because honestly, it’s just sitting here.

For people who don’t obsessively follow my incoherent ramblings about my own WIPs, this is an excerpt for i can’t believe i found you in that town, a story that takes place during Renji and Rukia’s last year in Inuzuri. Two out of their three friends have passed away, their powers are growing steadily stronger, and they are starting to face the fact that they aren’t children anymore. I have two more parts of Heart is a Muscle to get through first, so I never work on it, but it is very close to my heart.

PS: This is not going on ao3 at this time, because I really do intend to finish it eventually, so consider this a Tumblr exclusive.

❄ ❄ ❄

In a strange confluence, all three of them have found gainful employment at the same time.

Renji is guarding crates. He does not ask what is in the crates. He does not want to know what is in the crates. He stands next to the crates and his size deters most people. Occasionally, he is called upon to punch someone in the face. It’s good work.

Fujimaru got him this gig, actually. Mameji was good with numbers and he taught Fujimaru a lot, and now Fujimaru has a gig keeping the books for the guys who own the crates. That seems like pretty good work to Renji, too. Fujimaru says he wishes it involved more punching people. Renji wishes his job involved punching fewer people. Everyone’s got complaints.

Rukia has found work in a shop. This is charming and hilarious to both boys. It’s a pawn shop that paradoxically seems to buy about three times as much junk as it sells. It’s obvious that the only reason the owner hired Rukia is because the clientele likes to come in and look at her, but the fact is, she’s an amazing bargainer, and she’s making him a ton of change.

Renji stops in one late afternoon when his own shift is over, and watches her sell a man a knife that looks like it will break if he looks at it funny. She offers to throw in a shitty ball of twine and the man agrees to pay what is easily four times what the knife is worth, and leaves smiling. Amazing.

The shop owner eyes Renji warily. Renji never starts trouble, and he’s even stopped it once or twice, but at the same time, his presence is cramping the appeal of the pretty shopgirl.

“I’m off,” Rukia tells her boss.

“See y’tomorrow,” the seedy man grumbles.

“You don’t get paid every day?” Renji asks Rukia loudly. “I get paid at the end of every shift.”

“She gets paid at the end of the week,” the shopkeeper grouses.

Renji flexes one arm experimentally, admiring his own bicep. “It’s nice getting paid every day. Makes you want to come back the next day, y’know.”

“She comes back every day so she can get paid at the end of the week.”

Rukia’s eyes dart between them.

“Ah, you must be a great boss, very trustworthy,” Renji comments, stretching his back. “Although gettin’ paid every day is a nice way to show trust, too. Hey, Ru, you wanna stop at Takahashi’s on the way home? I heard they got in some dried mackerel and I,” he winks at Rukia’s boss, “got paid today.”

“Pfft,” Rukia huffs, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders. “I’m sure it’s a scam. We need rice, though, and more water.”

“Hey, girl,” Rukia’s boss spits out. “You had a good shift! Here’s your pay for today, as a reward for doing so well. Come back tomorrow, okay?”

“Of course,” Rukia agrees, taking the coins with a sly smile.

As they head out of town, she jabs him in the ribs with her elbows. “You’re so obvious.”

“Got you paid, didn’t I?”

“You did, thank you. He hates you, you know.”

Renji sighs dramatically. “How can I live with myself?”

Rukia snorts. “He’s gross, I hate him. I hate that whole job. Smiling at people. Acting kind to horrible people. It’s so fake. I don’t know why you like working so much, I’d rather just steal.”

“I’ve seen you working, what you do is not much different from stealing.” Renji rubs his hands together. It’s getting cold, especially with the sun setting. “I appreciate the effort, though. I mean, we do. Me and Fujimaru. I like this. Having money, that is. It’s nice.”

Rukia regards him out of the corner of her eye.

“Do you? Do you appreciate it?”

Renji frowns. “Yeah, of course I do. I know you don’t like it.”

Rukia stops walking and turns to him. “C��mere.” She gestures toward herself and makes the pointing motion she does when she wants him to bend down to her level. Even though this results in a cuff to the back of his head more often than not, Renji obeys. “If you really appreciate it, I think you should do something nice for me.”

Renji should know by now to be wary of such an ominous statement, but he falls for it anyway. “Sure. Name it.”

“I want to kiss you again.”

Renji tugs at his ponytail. “Again? Really?”

It was probably six years between the first and second time she had wanted to kiss him, but the second time had only been a few months ago, last spring, after he broke his arm saving her from a large, angry man she had attempted to pickpocket.

“You said you were open to the idea,” Rukia scowled.

“I...did,” Renji stammered. To be fair, he had been in immense pain at the time and probably would have agreed to just about anything. He could have used that as an excuse. It seemed like Rukia was thinking the same, he could tell she was already getting herself wound up to be hurt at his rejection. That stung a little, the idea that she expected so little of him. “No problem. Anything for you. Go for it.” He bent his knees a little deeper and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact.

“You gotta relax a little, man, it’s not a punch in the nards,” Rukia scolded, grabbing ahold of his ears and laying one on him.

Renji didn’t fantasize about kissing girls. He liked girls well enough, but he liked guys more. There was one exception to that rule, and that was Rukia. He liked her more than anyone. It wasn’t right to fantasize about Rukia, though, in his opinion, because he lived with her and it wasn’t respectful and also… also, if he spent too much time thinking about things like kissing her, he might want to do it. So, he avoided the slippery slope of girls in general, and restricted his spicy kissing fantasies to the lean, knife-eyed Rukongai punks that hung out on street corners and had really sexy ways of saying “heeeeeey.” Renji was perpetually working on his “heeeeeeys.”

But Rukia was kissing him now, and it seemed equally disrespectful to pretend she wasn’t. Her lips were soft against his, and curious. Her fingers relaxed their painful grip on his ears and snuck around to rest on the back of his neck. She must have been keeping her hands in her sleeves, because they were warm, and they felt so good and this was good, this was so, so good and it occurred to Renji that maybe he was meant to kiss her back, she had never mentioned anything about--

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it, Abarai?” Rukia was saying.

It was over.

Renji blew air out his cheeks. “Naw, it was fine. Ah, did you, uh… was it everything you hoped and dreamed?”

“It was okay,” she shrugged, but her eyes twinkled. She started walking again and Renji had to do a little skip and a jump to catch up. “Fujimaru’s probably home already. How come he didn’t come with you to pick me up?”

“Oh, there were extra crates today, so he’s working late. But we can have the rice ready and surprise him!”

“Mm, yes, that sounds nice,” Rukia agreed. She hummed a little as she walked. “Hey, Renji?”

“Yeah?”

“Back at the shop-- did you call me Ru? What was that?”

Renji made a face. “I dunno. I thought it was cute.” You’re cute, his brain added, and suddenly, he couldn’t unsee it. She was unbearably cute, wrapped up in her shawl, that little piece of hair hanging between her eyes, those beautiful eyes. “If you don’t like it, I’ll--”

“You’ve known me for nine years and you decide, just now, to give me a nickname?”

He shrugged. “Things can change, right? Even out here in the ass end of Rukongai?”

She regarded him for a moment. “It is cute. I will allow it, but only from you, and don’t do it around gross people like my greasy boss.”

“Yeah, no prob,” he agreed, squeezing his hands under his armpits. He had a bad feeling that they were in for a brutal winter this year.

“Hey!” Rukia said, and he realized she was holding out his hand to him. Gingerly, he took it, hoping she wouldn’t mind his own cold fingers. She didn’t seem to.

#renji's birthday 2k21 #my writing #i was strongly tempted to do another chapter of the tattoo artist au on top of this #except that the next chapter doesn't even have renji in it #it has rukia and orihime TALKING ABOUT renji if that counts for anything #and then i ran out of time #i know i have posted an excerpt of this excerpt before i am sorry i just love it TOO MUCH

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themuseic · 4 years ago

Text

Only Fools (Chapter 12)

(Art credit: @clumsycopy)

Fic Summary: Sent to Boone County, West Virginia on an assignment, you find yourself engulfed your work. How could you possibly find time for anything else? Even if “anything else” includes the tall, kind, and handsome bartender from down the road?

Word Count: 4.1k

Read Chapter 11 here.

Read here on AO3.

Warnings: Sad Times Still, Hospitals, Mention of Needles, Mention of Medical Procedures, Storms, Anxious Feelings, A Fuck Ton of Crying™.

A/N: Hellloooooo. Okay just some housekeeping - as it stands, OF is plotted to be 14 chapters. We’re in the home stretch y’all! As promised, there is a brief summary of last chapter below the cut for anyone who may have sat it out because of the content. Thank y’all for reading, love youuuu.

Chapter 11 Summary: Still reeling from the fight with Clyde, Reader goes to collect the data and footage alone. There, she crosses paths with and is attacked by one of the cougars she has been studying. Luckily, Clyde finds her and is able to save her, whisking her away with the help of Mellie and Sylvia to get her wounds treated.

~~~

Clyde Logan did not like hospitals.

He had tried to avoid them ever since his own accident, all those years ago in Iraq. He was perfectly happy to get patched up by Sylvia if he had a run-in with a rogue piece of glass from a shattered cup at the Duck Tape or if he had a cough that he just couldn’t quite shake. But in his recent memory, the only time he had stepped foot into the sanitized halls of a hospital had been for the birth of Sadie, that wonderful, joyous day. He remembered how Jimmy handed over the little bundle that held Clyde’s niece, and how she had smiled and babbled up to him, bringing a small tear of happiness to the corner of his eye.

Today wasn’t like that.

~~~

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The steady thrum of the heart monitor was torture. Clyde had listened to it mark time since his darlin’ had been rolled out of surgery to repair her ankle, and that had been hours ago. Tubes of substances unknown to him seemed to sprout from every part of her body, and he felt his eyes starting to water for what felt like the thousandth time as his gaze wandered over her prone form from where he sat in the chair in the corner. Any other person would say that those eyes hadn’t been dry once.

Clyde leaned forward in the creaky wooden chair and his right hand drifted up to cradle his face. He looked at her through his middle and ring finger, the digits framing his view of her. His horseshoe ring felt particularly cold against his face and he sighed deeply as he stared, waiting for her to wake up.

“Hey, Clyde.” A soft voice beside him startled him out of his thoughts and his eyes flicked to his side to see Mellie crouching beside him, her hand resting on his leg.

“Mel,” he nodded in recognition, his voice skipping in his throat. She squeezed his knee but didn’t say anything else. Clyde was happy to remain like that; the feeling of her thumb rubbing his knee and the sound of her breathing was comfort enough for him.

“Have you eaten-” she began, but Clyde spoke at the same time and cut her off.

“S’my fault,” he whispered, his eyes not leaving the bed once.

Mellie’s brow scrunched up and she frowned. “Oh no, Clyde this isn’t your fault. You didn’ do anything,” she tried to assure him as she rubbed his knee a little harder. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“I didn’t tell y’ we got in a fight last night,” Clyde whispered as he shook his head, still cradled in his hand. “She wouldn’t’ve been out there by herself if we hadn’t. Wouldn’t have...” he trailed off as his eyes drifted shut in an attempt to curtail the water that was gathering in them.

Mellie’s forehead softened and she pushed a strand of hair out of Clyde’s face to tuck it behind his ear. “Clyde, you don’t know what would have happened. And it doesn’t matter anyway. You found her, you got her help. She’s safe now,” she reassured him as she rubbed his bicep.

“She’s so hurt. I don’t know how I’ll face her,” he whispered, unable to tear his eyes from the girl in the hospital bed. Clyde’s lip began to tremble again and the water clinging to his lash line started to spill down his face. “I’m sorry, I gotta…” Clyde was left searching for the right words, a quest he quickly gave up as he stood up and left the room, desperate for some air and some privacy. His long legs carried him away from his sister swiftly, and Mellie was left alone standing in the hallway, helpless as she watched the broad back of her brother fly out of the doors to the hospital.

~~~

“I’m sorry, I gotta…”

Your eyes began to flutter open as you heard sounds of distress in your room. Your attempt to swallow was a feat in and of itself, the action rough and painful on your dry throat. Carefully, your eyes began to crack open, just in time to catch the sight of Clyde fleeing from your hospital room, Mellie hot on his trail. Your heart sank.

Of course he was here to witness you, broken and helpless, laid out on the cold hospital bed. You squeezed your eyes shut. If he had any shred of respect for you, it was surely gone. You had torn his heart clean in two, and now? He couldn’t even look at you, let alone be in the same room as you.

You were sure of it.

As tears started to roll down your face, your breathing picked up and so did your heart. Soon, nurses descended on you, ready to take vitals, take readings, and take care of you. You didn’t want to speak to them, to look at them. They set to work around you as your head fell back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. The pokes and prods of their needles and probes pricked your skin, but you didn’t hiss your breath didn’t catch. They could do anything to you, but the pain wouldn’t register.

It paled in comparison to the pain nestled in your heart.

~~~

The next day, after a restless night, the doctors discharged you. You had no reason to stay in the hospital longer; your antibiotics had been completed and your fever was long broken. And anyway, with Sylvia so close to you at the hotel, you would be able to get all the treatment you would need from her. As you sat on the edge of the bed with your back hunched, you breathed in and out slowly, trying to center and collect yourself. The dull pain in your side throbbed with each beat of your heart.

You heard your name called from the doorway and looked over to see a nurse standing with a clipboard. “You ready to get out of here?” she smiled softly, gesturing to the wheelchair parked at her feet. You gathered the strength to return her smile, and nodded. She wheeled the chair over to you and helped you hobble into the awaiting chair.

The overhead fluorescent lights were harsh on your eyes, and you blinked tightly to adjust to the glare. Sooner than you had thought, you were at the sliding double doors that made up the entrance of the hospital, and the kind nurse pushed you over the threshold and into the crisp air.

Your heart clenched when you saw who stood before you, keys in hand, ready to drive you home. Clyde gazed down at you, his stare unwavering and unreadable. There was a pit in your stomach and you shifted in your seat. “Hi,” you breathed. He sniffed and nodded at you. “Ready?” he asked, his feet shuffling slightly on the concrete.

You chewed on your lip. “Is it okay if you drive me back?” you asked, looking down at his shoes.

He exhaled through his nose and jerked his head towards the parking lot. “C’mon.”

Between the bulky cast around your ankle and the stitched tears in your side, walking, even with the aid of crutches, was out of the question. The nurse followed closely behind Clyde to wheel you towards the car parked out front. The ridges in the gravel and small pebbles that you rolled over caused the chair to vibrate and jerk. You seethed at the pain that shot through your side with the movement, and you pressed your eyes shut, breathing shallowly through your nose.

You were still focused on your breath when you realized you were no longer moving. Your eyes fluttered open and you found that you were sitting right next to Clyde's grey car, and he was standing in front of you, his back pressed against the swung fully open door.

Before you had a chance to try to pull yourself into the car, Clyde slipped his arm around your side and lifted you up out of the chair and into the passenger seat. You could feel how your face began to warm at the gesture, embarrassed that you needed this kind of care to get into a car, and you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. A soft “thank you” left your lips as Clyde buckled you in tight, and you were answered with a small nod.

The drive back was silent, safe for a sniff or cough here and there. You snuck a few glances at Clyde, while his gaze remained straight ahead. As you rolled your head to the side, you sighed and tilted your head into the window to stare at the trees flying past. The blur would have put you in a trance had you not been desperately trying to sort out what had happened the morning prior.

The doctors had asked you if you knew what had happened, and you had nodded in response. You didn’t want to know the gritty, embarrassing details. You didn’t want to sort through those memories alone and cold in the hospital bed.

But in reality, your mind was jumbled, your memory a whirlwind of snippets and memories. You could see the attack clearly, almost too clearly if you were honest with yourself, but you couldn’t put together what had happened after. A glimpse, a whisper of a memory formed in your mind, but the only thing you could ascertain from it was the memory of pain and burning. You remembered someone trying to soothe you. You shook your head, clearing your mind, and opted to stare out of the car window instead.

The glass of the window rattled your head as you leaned against it, gazing out the window at nothing in particular. A large sign caught your eye.

“Clyde, the hotel was back there,” you muttered, refusing to look at him.

“Y’aren’t going back to the hotel,” he replied, his stare fixated on the road ahead of him.

“It’s okay Cl-”

“Stop, fighting me.”

Your breath caught in your chest, and you didn't respond. A soft sigh sounded next to you, and you didn’t turn either.

~~~

Back at the trailer, Jimmy, Sylvia, and Mellie were already there to greet you, ready with blankets, food, and a stash of medical supplies so large, you reckoned it could keep you stocked for years to come. The minute Clyde helped you through the threshold, Sylvia and Mellie corralled you into the bedroom. They helped you out of the clothes drenched in the sterile hospital smell that clung to you and coaxed you into the large bed with soft touches and soft voices. After Mellie had helped settle you as much as she could, she squeezed your hand and left, leaving you alone with Sylvia.

She plumped the pillows around you and set out a glass of water on the nightstand as she listed off what the doctor had told you before you had been discharged. She recited your medicines, when she wanted you to take them, and how. You couldn’t look at her. Your gaze remained on the covers of your bed. Your heart constricted at that thought. Not your bed. His bed, you reminded yourself. You had made sure of that.

You had done this to yourself. You didn’t deserve Sylvia’s pity.

She whispered your name and with light fingers, she tilted your head up to hers. You allowed yourself to be posed and stared at her with eyes void of emotion, lest you break down in front of her.

“Did you get that?” she soothed, her brow furrowed and the concern in her voice wildly apparent. You flicked your eyes back down and nodded so shallowly, it was nearly imperceptible. She tsk’ed at your apathy but didn’t push you. You were thankful for that.

Her hand moved into your line of sight, palm outstretched, with a small pill in the center of it. “Here sweetie,” she muttered. “It’ll help with the pain.” You shook your head.

“Really, you’re going to be in a hell of a world of pain if you try to wean off so soon. Don’t punish yourself.”

You shook your head again.

“Take it,” a voice rumbled through the doorway.

Your eyes flicked up to see Clyde leaned against the threshold to his room, his brow furrowed and his mouth turned down into a deep pout. As much as you didn’t want to hold eye contact, his deep, piercing gaze would not allow you to break away. His jaw set. “Take it,” he urged again, jerking his chin towards the painkiller Sylvia offered you. You moved silently as you reached out to accept the medicine and swallow it.

The movement forced you to tear your eyes from Clyde, a gesture came at just the right time. You could feel the sting of tears you refused to spill bite at the corners of your eyes, but turning away meant he wouldn’t see them. You blinked them away before you looked back at the doorway, now empty.

Sylvia shuffled at the bedside table with your medicine and extra bandages, prepped to be changed as needed. She took your temperature again before she turned to the door… and paused. She turned back to you so slowly, you thought she was moving through syrup, though it easily could have been the effects of the painkiller already setting into your muscles.

Her soft and warm hand enveloped yours where it lay atop the plush blanket of the bed. Soft and warm, her eyes found yours. You could see why Jimmy had fallen for her. She was a particular sort of comforting, the kind that thrived in the medical field, the kind that made patients calm and made them feel safe.

If you didn’t deserve her pity, you didn’t deserve her comfort either.

“Dear, we want you to get better. Please let Clyde help you,” she whispered, caressing your knuckles with her thumb. “He was a complete wreck when he called us after he found you. He loves you so much.” Her words and her touch only made you feel worse. Each swipe made your stomach twist, each pass was another reminder that you had done this to yourself, and each word a reminder of what you had done to Clyde.

You shook your head and slid your hand from hers, the motion sapping what little energy you had left from you. You settled back into the pillows set around your head, your eyes refusing to meet hers. Sylvia’s mouth set into a thin line and she tsk’ed once more as she sighed out of her nose. “Alright. Call me if you need me.” She gathered her things and stalked towards the door before the small “wait,” whispered into the room stopped her. She turned back to look at you.

Quietly, and without making eye contact, you breathed a small “Thank you.” Sylvia’s features softened and she smiled. “Get some rest,” she whispered. And with that, she left you alone in the room.

Unable to toss and turn and pile up the nest of pillows that you so loved to sleep with, you stared at the ceiling as you sought out rest. The light in the room was still a golden shine streaming in from outside. It was far earlier than you would usually retreat to the comfort of bed, but between your healing body, the energy you had already exerted, and the painkiller you had taken, you were racing towards sleep, towards that quiet oblivion. Where you wouldn’t have to think of the fight, the attack. You wouldn’t have to picture Clyde’s face, so downtrodden and utterly disappointed in you.

If you could have taken it back, you would have.

But now the closest you could get to him was through hearing the lowered sounds of his voice talking to his siblings, to Sylvia. You couldn’t make out what they were saying in the living room, and the harder you strained to hear, the more jumbled the words became. They swirled in your head, and you couldn’t tell who was speaking at once, the cacophony of noise painfully quiet and horrifically overwhelming all at once.

You fell asleep to the sound of it.

~~~

When you awoke next, you realized your body hadn’t moved an inch in your slumber. The voices down the hallway were absent, and the golden light that had once filled the room had long since faded beyond the horizon. Instead, a silver haze drifted over the space, illuminating the walls softly.

It was silent, save for the heavy rain that danced across the roof of the trailer, a steady thrum that buzzed through the trailer. The muffled voices were gone, and the air in the house was still. You stared, with laser focus, up at the ceiling. You closed your eyes and pretended as if the rain could wash away the disgusting feeling you harbored deep in your stomach. As if it could wash away the memory of how you had treated Clyde, how you had pulled him along for months with no promise of a future. Maybe, if you were lucky, it would wash away his memory of it all along with yours.

Your thoughts were split in two by a large crunch that fell upon your ears and you jolted. You knew in your heart that it was a branch falling, cracking under the oppressive weight of the water that fell from the sky. You knew that had to be it. But a small voice, speaking from where it resided tucked away in the back of your mind, piped up. It could be anything, it taunted, jeering at you for your scare.

You tried to push the startling noise from your mind and fall back asleep, but that comfort remained just out of reach. The whistling wind brought a chill to your bones, and the noises that splintered through the forest brought you back to just a few days before. Each noise was a beast, a predator stalking you through the night and into the haven you thought you had created in the trailer. A shudder ran through your body at the thought.

You were embarrassed, but you couldn’t be left alone with your thoughts much longer. You swallowed thickly and pushed out a small noise over the lump in your throat.

“Clyde?” you called, your voice hoarse with sleep.

You were answered with a soft snore. You cleared your throat and tried again. “Clyde?” Your voice broke.

You heard a hitched breath and the sound of shuffling. In just a few seconds, Clyde was at the open door, dressed in only a hole-pocked sleep shirt and a pair of boxers. He strode to your side in a few easy steps, flicked on the lamp on the nightstand, and gingerly laid his hand on your forehead, his face serious and his brow knit together tightly.

“What’s the matter? You in pain? D’you need me to call Sylvia back over?” he muttered, his eyes darting over your face. The golden light of the lamp illuminated half of his face and accentuated his sharp features knit together in concern.

You shook your head and dragged a shuddering breath into your lungs in a feeble attempt to steel yourself. “I can’t go back to sleep.” With a slight strain of your neck, you pushed your forehead up into his palm and your eyes squeezed into slits as tears began to gather along your lash line. “Will you sleep with me?” you whispered, searching his face. For any expression of his thoughts. Your lip trembled.

He flinched and his warm flesh left your head. He was taken aback by your request.

You should have known better.

The sharp sting of rejection shot through your spine and you shut your eyes, unwilling to bear the sight of the devastating heartbreak that could follow your next utterance.

Your voice wavered. “Please.” You were met with silence.

A heartbroken sob threatened to wrack your body when you were given no response until suddenly, the bed creaked and dipped under an unseen weight.

Instead, a sob of relief broke from your chest.

“Oh shh,” Clyde hushed as he hooked his left arm around your head, his right hand reaching across your body to palm your thigh and shift you close into his side without aggravating your newly stitched wounds. You pressed your lips together in a feeble attempt to stifle the noises that rattled in your chest as you turned your head to press into the refuge of his armpit.

Clyde’s right hand slipped under your shirt to trace patterns into your skin and stroke your side, his fingers dancing at the edge of the gauze that was plastered to your body. There was pressure on your hair. He whispered soft assurances into your scalp, nuzzling his nose into your hair as he let you shake against him. “Shh, baby, shh. You’re alright there, you’re okay,” he crooned. “You’re safe now.” A ragged sob broke from your throat, as you collapsed into him.

And finally, finally, you let yourself break.

The embarrassment, the guilt - it all came gushing forward with the same force as a dam splintering under the pressure of the water it was designed to hold back. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you choked out, barely able to speak over the snot and tears that streaked your face. You knew you were making a mess of his shirt, but each attempt to suppress your sobs did nothing but heighten them.

“Shh, sweet baby.” Clyde cooed, pulling you tight against him. Taking great care to avoid agitating your wounds, he pulled you up onto your uninjured side so you could bury your face into the crook of his neck. His hand wrapped around your torso to swirl small circles into your back. It would have felt incredible if you could feel anything besides the constricting pain in your chest as you dragged air into your lungs. As you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, he breathed in deep, forcing your body to rise and fall in time with his breaths.

“Darlin’, c’mon, I need you to take a breath,” Clyde murmured as he pressed kisses to your hairline. “Can you try to do that for me?” You dragged shuddering breaths into your chest between your cries, trying your very hardest to match his breathing, but spitting and sputtering over every breath.

Clyde didn’t seem to mind. He rained soft shushes and small kisses onto you as he cradled your shaking form. He would hold you like that forever if you needed it; if he could.

Eventually, you began to still. Your breathing evened out and your tears stopped racing down your face. Clyde shifted his body down to be even with yours and leaned his face in to kiss the tear tracks and stray droplets from your face before he nuzzled his face against your own. The moment you had the strength to speak, you did.

“Clyde, I’m so sorry-” you started. He cut you off immediately.

“Shh, baby. It’s alright.” He squeezed your shoulders and kissed your temple. You shook in his arms and stuttered your head back and forth. “No Clyde, really,” you tried again. He caught your lips in a soft, swift kiss.

“No. You don’t have t’ think about that right now. Anyway, you were right, you told me what you wanted. I’m sorry I didn’t respect that.”

A sob jumped in your throat. His words were tempting you to spill over yet again. You tried to whisper his name, but could only manage a high-pitched rendition. “Clyde, I was so unfair to you. I still am sorry,” you whispered breathily, barely pulling sound and tone over your strained vocal cords.

He sighed slowly and dipped his head to kiss the corner of your eye, pulling the salty water drops that clung to the skin of your face away on his lips. “Thank you, darlin’. We can talk about it more later,” he soothed. Soft fingertips swept up and down your back. “I want you t’get some sleep. Can’t have you spikin’ a fever again,” he cooed to you as he peppered kisses along your hairline.

You sniffed and nuzzled deeper into the solace you found between his neck and shoulder. With a careful wiggle, you maneuvered your body so that every part of you that could be touching him was, the knowledge that he was with you bringing you comfort by itself. He folded his body around yours.

It was warm, safe. He was warm.

Safe.

“Will you stay?” you muttered, the warmth radiating from his body beginning to pull you towards sleep already. You had been so anxious to distance yourself from Clyde, and now you couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving for just a second. His right hand tensed on your back and he squeezed you closer. “Always, darlin’.”

The rain pattered over the roof of the trailer, a dull hum that danced across your ears.

The designs he traced over your skin lulled you to sleep.

~~~

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#clyde logan x you #clyde logan x reader #logan lucky #reader insert #only fools #my writing #cw: hosptials #cw: medical procedures #cw: needles #cw: storms #cw: anxious thoughts #cw: crying #omg so much damn crying

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