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ohtobeleah · 8 months

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Cards Close to the Chest // Bob Floyd

Summary: When Bob & Phoenix fall from the sky, Bob’s closest kept secrets come to light as two of the most important people in his life race to his side.

Warnings: Bob Floyd x F!reader. Fluff (poorly written) Mild cock-sure Jake Seresin. Hospitals. F18 accident. Wholesome read.

Word Count: 3k

Author Note: I was just feeling some fluffy Bob content and I thought this would be a good way to break up the tension with all my over dramatic angst/whump. Thank you so much to @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta reading this for me! Vee did gods work with this one.

Main Masterlist | Bob Floyd Masterlist

No significant other wants to receive that call. That dreaded call that tells you that the inevitable has happened. That phone call that sucks all the air from your lungs and replaces it with cement. The very phone call that alters your perception of life, of time, of all the small arguments you ever had with the person you love so dearly. It's the phone call no significant other wants to receive.

“Is this Mrs Floyd?” The man on the other end of the line asked with a cautiousness that told you he really didn't want the answer to be yes. Your daughter, Millicent, sat in her high chair smashing bananas all over the surface of her tray. Getting to know the texture of the latest solid you had introduced her to.

“This is she? May I ask who's speaking?” You didn't mean to come across as defensive, but the panic inside your chest had well and truly begun to bloom. Your eyes lingered over to the pair of spare reading glasses your husband left lying around the small apartment the two of you and your young daughter had been staying in. If this was the phone call, the very phone call that was about to alter your life forever you couldn't help but to think of the last time you saw your husband wear those frames.

“Mrs Floyd, Y/n, my name is Pete Mitchell, Captain Mitchell, or Just Mav will do–” The man on the other end of the line rambled off the list of names he went by. You didn't care all that much, but you let him go on. Your eyes drifted back toward your daughter, the very embodiment of half you and half your husband. Robert Floyd. In your mind, you prayed to whatever god was listening that this wouldn't be the phone call every military spouse dreaded.

“There was an accident during a training exercise your husband was involved in this morning.” The words all sounded broken and inaudible, all but the few key details.

‘Husband’ ‘Involved’ ‘Accident’

“Is he–” Mav knew what the question was going to be, so he gave you no chance to ask, he wanted to be the one to call, he wanted to be the one to tell you that although your husband had been involved in a training accident, he was still in one piece and very much alive.

“He's alive, still very much in one piece ma’am–” Mav caught himself smiling ever so slightly, despite the looming knowledge in the back of his mind that the situation could have been a lot worse. “They want to keep him overnight for observation, so if you'd like to come in and see him, I'm sure Bob would really appreciate it.”

The sigh that left your body, the shock that overwhelmed you, the tears that stained your cheek you weren't aware were there all told you one thing—you couldn't live without your husband.

“O–okay.” You nodded to yourself as if the man on the other end of the line could see you. “Y-yes, I’ll, uh, just get our daughter sorted and I'll be right in.”

It was then Maverick’s turn to sit in the deafening silence that threatened to consume his entire being. Bob had a daughter? That added a whole other layer to the incident he hadn’t accounted for.

Bob kept that card close to his chest, his daughter, Mille, was his pride and joy.

“Try to keep in mind he's okay Mrs Floyd,. Your husband’s a very skilled weapons system officer and his training truly saved his life today.” You hadn’t taken your eyes off your daughter since you remembered how to breathe as you stood in the middle of the small apartment kitchen. She was so innocent, so young, so mesmerised by her dad that she would have known something was wrong if he didn't come home.

“It's never been my husband's ability that I doubt, Captain Mitchell.” You replied as you wiped away your tears and reached for a sponge to go about cleaning up your daughter's high chair mess. “It's the system he works for that keeps me up at night.”

***~***~***~***~***~

Jake Seresin had never been so relieved when he was told that both Bob and Phoenix were alright and almost injury-free. Phoenix had a few bumps and bruises, a minor cut on her forearm, and a minor concussion that would surely see her grounded for a week at the minimum.

Bob was the same, only his ribs had taken a pretty nasty beating when he hit the ground with an unprecedented amount of force. Still, the usually arrogant, somewhat self-loathing, and above all infuriatingly good aviator wasn't about to say how relieved he truly was.

But he did, however, offer to take Phoenix some personal belongings for her overnight stay in the chateau short-stay ward of the Miramar Base Hospital.

“Just hold on a minute, sweetheart!”

Jake didn't mean to stick his nose where it didn't belong, but the ear-piercing cries of a child that couldn't have been any older than one broke him out of his mid-afternoon trance. The carpark at the Base hospital was packed to the rafters, but surely there would have been a parent’s park closer to the entrance?

Jake wished with every fibre of his being that he could have kept walking, he wished he just could have kept putting one foot in front of the other. But his mother raised him right. With a heavy sigh and a regret deep in his chest, Jake doubled back a few paces and turned his attention to the woman struggling to get up the stroller.

“Ma’am, I hate to be a bother but do you need a hand?”

“Me?” You turned around to address the man who’d been the only person to stop while others had walked right on past and whispered under their breath. Some had even stopped to watch, but no one had offered a hand. “Yes, yes please I just need someone to–”

Assessing the situation, Jake was sure he knew what the issue was.

Within a few seconds of you trying to explain what was wrong, the man who’d stopped to help had placed the bag he was carrying over his shoulder down onto the ground and stepped hard onto the safety that was jammed.

“How did you know to do that?” You asked with a look of disbelief as you immediately raced around to grab your daughter out of the car. She was distraught. “Shhh, I’m here, see I told you just a few minutes, didn't I baby?” You tried your best to soothe the crying tot.

“My sister has the same stroller, gets jammed all the time.” the man smiled politely as he stood by the now perfectly erected stroller. “Jake, Jake Seresin.”

“I recognise the callsign–” You replied when you finally allowed yourself to take in what the man was wearing. The same Nomex flight suit your husband frequented more often than not. “Yeah, Hangman, you work with my husband.” You beamed as you bounced your daughter softly until she was calm enough to be placed into her stroller.

Jake was racking his brain trying to figure out who the hell your husband was. He thought he knew everything about everyone he worked with. From the secrets Rooster tried to keep to the fact Payback had a raging nut allergy. BuUt a wife and child? Who the hell had a wife and child and hadn’t bothered to mention it?

“I work with your husband?” Jake repeated back to you like he was still trying to play catch up. “Sorry, I must be having a mind blank, with all due respect to your husband.”

“Bob Floyd?” You mentioned your husband's name like it was honey on your tastebuds. Jake truly couldn't compute what you were saying. Bob fucking Floyd was married? Bob Floyd had a kid!? “He had a training accident earlier today with his front seater, scared the absolute hell out of me.” You tried to laugh, but you weren't about to mention to Jake that you'd spent the better half of forty-five minutes in the shower with your daughter having a full-blown panic attack after Mav had called.

“You're Bob's wife?” Jake asked with a frown that was so deeply indeed on his forehead you truly weren’t sure what was so wrong about the fact you were Bob's wife. “Bob has a wife?” As you clipped your daughter in, Jake picked up the bag he’d been carrying up to the entrance of the hospital before he stopped to help you.

“Together seven, married for three.” You proudly smiled as you started walking your daughter’s stroller towards the hospital. Jake kept himself in line, walking by your side as he tried to compute the information he was being delivered. “Bob’s a pretty private person, please don't be offended if he didn't tell you we existed.” This wasn't the first time and you knew it wouldn't be the last time you were left to explain that yes, your husband was in fact your husband.

The chuckle that left Jake's mouth told you it wasn't about being offended.

“No Ma'am, no offence taken–” He explained through the shit- eating grin. “I just wasn't aware Bob had it in him is all.” The idea Bob had a wife was an easier pill to swallow than Bob having a whole ass child. In Jake's mind, Bob was far too ill-equipped to know how to use what he had. Or at least that was the rough opinion he had of the wallflower-esk weapons system officer. “But it's nice to know the guys got a family.”

“He does, he’s got us–” You couldn't help it when your eyes welled with tears. “Isn't that right, Millie girl?”

Jake had never stopped to wonder what the loves of his coworkers were like. Sure, he knew Phoenix and Rooster prior to their return to TopGun, but never once had he stopped to think if Bob had a family.

“He’s a real lucky guy.” Jake confirmed as he walked with you. “Gorgeous wife, cute kid, I'm sure he’s gonna be really happy to see you after the day he’s had.”

***~***~***~***~***~

In all the time Bob had flown for the United State Navy, this had been his closest call with death. The bed sheets that covered the small hospital bed scratched at his exposed skin. The paper-thin hospital gown that now adorned his body left little to the imagination if he stood.

The very last person Bob expected to see enter his hospital room was Jake Seresin. Bob thought he was having an all-out nightmare when the cock-sure aviator walked in with a shit-eating grin as wide as his cheeks would allow him.

“No–no absolutely not.” Bob shook his head in utter disbelief. “You don't get to come in here and give me shit after I fell hundreds of metres out of the sky.” It had been a rough day to say the very least and all Bob wanted more than anything else in the entire world was to hug you and his baby girl. “Hangman, I'm so serious right now–” Bob pressed as Jake stood with a proud chest and that smug ass grin by the door of his hospital room, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

“You know, that's no way to talk to the man who saved your damsel in distress wife in the carpark–” Jake replied as you rounded the corner and pushed your daughter’s stroller into the hospital room. “Funny, I don't think any of us knew you were married, Floyd.”

Bob's demeanour immediately softened as you made your way over with tears of mixed emotions welling in your eyes. Bob’s eyes mimicked yours, those baby blue eyes were quick to fill with clear but heavy tears as you sat on his bedside.

“I'll leave you guys alone.” Jake knew when to leave a room, and he had someone else to go see after all. Phoenix, probably the only woman on the planet who could keep his ego from inflating to new heights. “Put some WD40 on the safety of your daughter's stroller too. It's starting to lock up–” Jake made sure to tell Bob before he left the room, still carrying the bag full of Natasha’s personal belongings he promised he would hand deliver. Bob's precious cargo however, the family that loved him to the moon and back and three times over, seemed like a more pressing delivery to complete first.

“Bob–” Your hands were on your husband's cheeks the second Bob leaned in to kiss your lips ever so tenderly. The pads of your thumbs worked to wipe away the tears that spilled over his lower lash line, staining his cheeks with a salty layer of tears. “What on earth am I gonna do with you, hey?” You smiled through the kiss, speaking against your husband's supplye lips as he tried to keep his composure. “Falling from the sky like that? You scared me half to death.”

“I’m sorry–” It was the first thing Bob was able to muster as you pulled away and reached down for your little girl. “I'm so sorry. Phoenix got us out of a pretty rough spot, she's the reason I'm still here.”

You’d never met the woman who was currently flying with the love of your life, but you had to trust her. There was no room to not to.

“Someone was enjoying her banana mush when Captain Mitchell called.” You explained as you picked up your daughter and handed her to Bob who was waisting with open arms and bright eyes. He was so relieved to be able to hold his daughter again, you could see that much as clear as day. “Isn't that right Millie, yeah–yeah, Dad really threw a spanner in the works, didn't he?”

“Hey, baby girl.” Bob mumbled into the crook of his little girl's neck as he held her close to his chest. The burn in his ribs was worth it as she used his thighs as a stable surface to tiptoe on. “Oh my goodness, I can't even begin to explain how much I love you both.”

“We love you so much.” You leaned in once again to kiss your husband's lips. “I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. You don't get to scare me like this again, okay?”

Bob knew that you knew he couldn't promise you that, that was the worst part. He knew this could happen again and possibly be a worse outcome than this. But Bob also knew you needed reassurance he was here, that he was safe and that he wasn't going anywhere.

Death himself would have to drag him down to hell kicking and screaming before he ever left you.

“I'm not going anywhere baby, not now, not ever.” Bob cooed as he kissed you back, thankful he got to come home to his girls after such a life-threatening accident. The WSO knew he would have to see a shrink before getting in the cockpit again. How he was going to explain away the nightmares of leaving his wife a widow and his daughter fatherless he’d never know. “I’m here, I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere.”

“Phoenix, I don't think you're supposed to be walking?” Jake's voice echoed down the hall as you and Bob looked towards the door of his hospital room. There, in the doorway, stood Natasha Trace with wide eyes and shocked horror written all over her face. It was clear to you at that moment that Bob hadn’t told her either, Bob hadn’t told anyone about you or his daughter. You were the two closest cards he kept close to his chest.

“You have a family!?” Phoenix asked almost as if the answer was unclear. “Bob, you have a family and didn't tell me? Didn't tell any of us?” There was a rhyme to Bob's reasoning as to why he kept the two of you a secret. Bob just wanted something all for himself. He liked to keep his work life and private life as separate as possible. The Navy could be all-consuming on its best days, coming home to you and knowing not a single person could interrupt or stop by was simply the best version of heaven neither Bob could ever think of.

He just wanted his family all to himself, something the Navy couldn't control, couldn't touch, couldn't taint.

“Nix, this is my wife, Y/n, and my daughter Millicent.” Bob introduced the pair of you softly. “My best girls. “My whole world is in these two.”

You sent the clearly distressed aviator a simple smile and a soft wave as you stood from your husband’s beside. You understood this was a lot for her to take in. The idea that her WSo had more to lose than she ever thought.

“I'm still getting over the fact you have a daughter.” Jake interrupted from behind Phoenix as you walked closer to where she stood to take her in a warm embrace.

“Jealousy is a disease, Seresin, I can tell you exactly how I made my daughter too if you want?” Bob held his daughter in hips lap as she babbled to herself as he helped her stand on her feet. She wasn’t walking yet, not even close. But she loved to stand.

“My husband tells me you’re the reason he's still alive.” You spoke to Natasha like she deserved to be told this accident wasn't her fault. It could have happened to anyone. It shouldn't have happened to your husband and his front seater, but that was the luck of the draw–and you were blatantly aware it could have been much, much worse.

“So, thank you for making sure he gets to come home another night.”

***~***~***~***~***~

#bob floyd imagine #bob floyd #bob floyd fluff #top gun bob #top gun imagine #top gun fandom #top gun fanfiction #bob floyd fanfiction

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atopvisenyashill · 11 months

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Is Lyanna really as terrible as some people portray her as?

no, not even a little bit.

the absolute most important thing about lyanna is that when she dies she is only 16. i am someone who works with kids - i work in a library so i spend most of my days cleaning up after tweens and asking teenagers to please stop doing dumb shit- and the first thing anyone who has ever worked with kids and especially teenagers is that they may look like adults but they are NOT. they don’t understand boundaries, they have next to zero impulse control, and every bad thing that happens feels like the worst thing ever because it very likely IS the worst thing they’ve ever experienced bc they have not been alive that long!

and this goes for every single teen & tween character in this series, not just lyanna! shit, i am someone who feels an immense amount of sympathy for joffrey! on one side he’s got his mother telling him he can do anything he wants with no repercussions and on the other he’s got his father hitting him so hard that stannis thought joffrey was going to die. and then he is given unchecked power and told not to abuse it! EYE cannot even guarantee that i wouldn’t use unchecked power to do shady shit and i am a fully grown adult, not a traumatized, irrationally, and deeply vindictive 13 year old boy.

but honestly the most important thing about lyanna is that we have ZERO CONTEXT for what happens between her and Rhaegar. What we have is

Ned’s sparse & guilt ridden thoughts about Lyanna and one (1) comment about Rhaegar

Robert’s angry, entitled, and grief ridden outbursts about Lyanna and Rhaegar

Barristan’s incredibly romanticized, guilt & grief ridden take on their relationship

Meera’s second hand account of Lyanna, told to her by a father who is likely just as guilt & grief ridden as the others, who likely has his own view of Lyanna

What’s important to note is that our view of her is heavily filtered through the eyes of the men that knew her. Robert loves an idealized version of her that never existed. Barristan never actually knew her. Ned is not only viewing her under 200 layers of guilt and grief, but very obviously does not understand his sister, or why she made the choices she did, and struggles constantly with knowing that he will never know her the way he wishes he could, the way he thought he did. Given the way Meera describes Lyanna, I actually think Howland is our most accurate look at her but even that is buried behind years of grief & a fair amount of hero worship and affection (“that’s my fathers man you’re kicking howled the she-wolf” is a line that makes me WEEP for this exact reason; Howland sees Lyanna as his hero above all else!).

All of that to say - we don't even know what Lyanna did that was so terrible! Even if she was a grown woman capable of making rational decisions, we have no idea what her decisions were. She could have been lied to, misled, kidnapped, threatened, just as surely as she could have walked into the situation with open eyes. Even in the show, with a slightly aged up Lyanna - we get, what, just Sam's opinion on Rhaegar and Lyanna being in love because they got hitched? Completely ignoring the fact that we had several women in this series get married not because they were in love or willing but because someone more powerful decided on it and that was that, so there's still no evidence that Lyanna had enough information about the situation to make any sort of informed, consensual decision.

so no, i do not hold lyanna responsible for anything at all that happened regardless of how it happened because she was not mentally mature enough to understand what the hell was going on. a 15 year old is just not mature enough to think “if i run off with this married man, it’s going to cause a cascade of political issues that could have disastrous consequences.” what she’s probably thinking is “this man says he can help me and i am fucking miserable and no one else will listen.” it’s why we don’t throw 15 year olds who run away to meet up with old dudes they met online in jail when they’re caught (or theoretically why we don’t punish them at any rate). There is one person and one person only who is responsible for the massive fuck up that is the Elia-Rhaenys-Aegon-Lyanna-Jon mess and that is RHAEGAR, the person with the most amount of power who used it in the dumbest way imaginable and got himself, most of his heirs, his wife, and his teenaged mistress killed. The only other people responsible are the Kingsguard who kept Lyanna under lock and key while she lay dying and pleading for her brother to come save her.

#lyanna stark #anti rhaegar targaryen #valyrianscrolls #gender politics in asoiaf #mariages in asoiaf #asks #anons

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hellishjoel · 1 year

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seven days, six nights

5.6k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

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summary: You get jumped in the QZ after a deal gone south and hide yourself from Joel to keep him safe. After eventually finding you and learning the truth behind your injuries, he heals you and promises revenge.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), post-outbreak Joel, living in the Boston QZ, somewhat established relationship, mentions of falling ill, mentions of hunger/starvation, mentions of weapons, mentions of sleeplessness, descriptions of a fight/brief assault, descriptions of bodily injury, talking about medical shit (and I ain't no doctor, I used google, don't sue me) thoughts and descriptions of murder (… isn’t he just so dreamy?), angst, light fluff at the end, half-ass edited (apologies in advance)

A/N: So happy to practice some post-outbreak writing! Enjoy this angsty one shot (inspired by this lovely ask!) that I fuckin loved writing. Dedicating this to @macfrog, as I pictured this entire plot with pixel Joel.

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery-” “Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you. You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-” “Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.”

Joel doesn’t know where you’ve been. You haven’t returned to his apartment in the QZ for days. He keeps track. Every time the sun rises and shines blistering beams of light into the quiet apartment until the moon replaces it and casts light silver streaks between the torn-up pieces of newspaper taped to the windows. Another day gone.

You had a routine. Make the smaller drops or pickups on your own, return to Joel, and report back to him with anything you think he might find useful or interesting. Five days ago, he sent you off to negotiate a truck battery with that West End District piece of shit, Robert. He shouldn’t have let you go alone. Fucking smugglers, you couldn’t trust any of them. Hell, Joel was even surprised you trusted him at first. He regretted not insisting on being by your side, even if it was just as your personal attack dog to keep Robert on his toes.

Despite Boston being one of the more “well-managed” QZs to still exist, the black market that emerged from it was just as strong. That’s where Joel came in. He figured if he could smuggle himself into one of the most protected quarantine zones in the country, he could smuggle just about anything else.

Drugs, weapons, ammunition, illegally forged paperwork, counterfeit ration cards, you name it, and Joel could work it in or out of the city. Joel’s reputation was usually enough to keep you both out of imminent danger as he became popular with not only the inhabitants of the QZ, but also with fellow smugglers. You all needed each other to stay alive, in one way or another.

Don’t be mistaken; the Boston QZ wasn’t perfect. It went through its fair share of scares. Food sources dwindled occasionally, leaving people angry, starving, and rebellious. Fireflies were a constant nag on depleting military resources. The fighting never truly stopped. This partially made Joel’s life easier. When times got tough, people searched for Joel to procure particular goods to help keep them afloat or, more importantly, alive.

That’s the problem Joel ran into after spending a night in FEDRA lock up. He was the one in need of supplies.

Joel was sick. Not infected sick, not cordyceps sick, some kind of infection he got from poor sanitation in the lock-up that attacked its way through an open wound Joel had gotten. He didn’t know if it was from work duty or from the recent street attacks, hence his stay in the FEDRA lockup. No matter where he got it from, an infection in the bloodstream wasn’t easily curable.

The doctors, what very few the QZ had, were scarcely treating the sick due to a lack of supplies. And Joel was only getting worse.

He was fighting a high fever, his breathing was fucked, as was his heart rate. Only a few days into his symptoms, he was crashing. He was damn near on the devil’s doorstep. He wasn’t made for heaven’s gates.

Joel didn’t have friends in the QZ, but there were certain high-powered people who needed items smuggled, too. And the guards paid him well to keep his mouth shut about what he saw going in and out of those gates after curfew. That’s why when one of his more popular clients heard Joel was an inch from death, they sent you.

You burst through his apartment, the door nearly flying off its hinges as you fled to his bedside. He pushed you away with what little strength he had at first, the infection was making him lose his damn mind. His skin was scarlet red, and he was clammy with sweat. He didn’t know you, you didn’t know him. But you weren’t going to let him die.

“Joel, I’m here to help you, hold still.”

Then you started your search, tearing Joel’s clothes off one by one until you found the sizeable cut on his upper bicep near his shoulder, a huge scrape from a metal blade that had gotten infected. The man had tons of scars, all in varying sizes, shapes, and places on his body. You didn’t know his past, but his body told his story. He was a fighter.

Your fear was how far into sepsis Joel was. Any further or even just a few hours later, you might have witnessed his organs begin shutting down.

Despite his hazy state, Joel was struck by your amount of supplies. You weren’t a Boston QZ doctor, he would remember a face like yours. It took a smuggler to know a smuggler, and you dealt in medical supplies.

Joel passed out not long after you got there. You caught him up in the morning, you never left his side. You monitored him, kept checking his vitals, pumped him with water, shoved antibiotics down his throat, cleaned his wound before it could fester anymore, and tried to regulate his body temperature. This could have been a lot worse. It should have been a lot worse.

This was your first time experiencing Joel Miller’s tenacious stubbornness. He wouldn’t fucking die, not last night, and not today.

A few weeks later, with Joel improving, he picked up on you around town. The way you blended in with just about everyone else. Not much slipped past Joel these days with his eyes like that of an eagle. But you slipped right through his fingers, didn’t even know you existed, despite running the same territory.

That’s when he decided he wanted someone like you on his team. Not just for your medical skills, but the type of supplies you ran was in high demand. You never did tell him where you got it, or how it was funded, all he had to know was that you were in. And you have been in ever since.

Joel introduced you to heavier smuggling, like weapons and bundles of cash. Even people for the right price. He taught you how to make fake documents of verification and how to forge other paperwork. This was a lot bigger compared to your clean syringes and medicine.

You learned a lot from each other. You taught Joel patience, and to thank you for saving his life, he taught you how to orgasm in less than five minutes.

The relationship you shared, if you could even call it that, wasn’t strictly a romantic one. Both of you were too guarded for something like that. But also, life was too short and unpredictable right now not to crave pleasure to erase the pain from the past.

It was hard to admit, considering how independent you’ve grown since being accepted into the Boston QZ, but you were thinking about Joel in ways far beyond a slightly romantic relationship. He had protected you and cared for you in the Joel sort of way that’s hard to read but you know exists.

Joel worked extra hours to hand you off extra ration cards, shaking his head and not looking at you when he said it was no big deal, just take’em. Or when he didn’t want you to stay in spare housing, he offered to let you live with him in his nicer, non-shared apartment. It was a small slice of heaven in this fucked up world. You liked him, hell, maybe it was more than like.

That’s why when you got jumped by Robert’s guys on the way back to Joel’s with the truck battery, they damn near killed you. They left you passed out in the alley. Robbed you of your ration cards, stole back the battery, smashed your head so hard into the brick wall you had passed out. All you wanted to do when you came to was crawl to Joel. So you did. You were outside his door, beaten and bruised, about to knock. Then you just stood there and spiraled.

You listened from the other side of Joel’s door to the floorboards creaking as he paced the old wooden beams. You were late and left him worried. He was waiting for you to come home.

The thought made your stomach twist. You looked like shit. You knew what Joel was capable of. One look at your bruised and bloodied face would send him flying down the street with a rifle in his hands and a pistol shoved in the back of his jeans. You couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt in a war with Robert.

Joel was smart, a hell of a lot smarter than Robert, but their smuggling operations varied greatly. Robert was an arms dealer, with henchmen all around the QZ. Joel only worked with a handful of people, he kept his circle small. If Joel went after Robert, you were more likely to find him dead in the street than anything else. And you couldn’t do that to Joel, not after all he’s done for you.

If Joel saw you hurt, he would kill Robert. He’d kill anyone that laid a finger on you. No one touches what’s Joel’s. Not merchandise, not weapons, not the pills he smuggles in and out of the QZ, and certainly not you.

So you tiptoe back down the stairs and run to the spare housing blocks just before the curfew alarm sounds. What Joel doesn’t know won’t get him killed.

---

Joel stands in line during the heat of summer, ration cards stuffed in his back pocket as he waits with others in the queue for a tray and some food. The dining hall was packed, and by the looks of other people’s trays, the food was low again. All he can think about is how he worked extra shifts all last week to get more ration cards for both of you. Without these cards, you were going hungry. You were supposed to be by his side, where were you?

By day six, Joel was restless. He didn’t realize how accustomed he had grown to having you in bed beside him. All he could picture during his sleepless nights was his body spooned in behind yours, the heavy weight of his arm curled around your waist, being able to sense even the tiniest of movements. You’d push off his arm in the middle of the night, telling him that you just needed to use the bathroom or get some water.

It wasn’t always like that, though. Sometimes, you have nightmares. Ones that left you shooting up straight in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, crawling backward in bed like something or someone was chasing you. Joel didn’t know everything about your past and vice versa, but he knew wherever you came from before Boston was a different form of hell. He would hold you in his arms, console you, wipe your hot tears, lay your head on the warmth of his chest, and tell you to level out your breathing by listening to the beat of his heart. He held you in his arms until you eventually fell back asleep. Most of the time, you’d wake up and wouldn’t remember a thing.

What if nothing was wrong with you, and you just realized you didn’t want to be with someone as broken and battered as Joel? He didn’t make being in his company easy. He gave you a lot of shit, pushed you to the limits, told you on more than a handful of occasions he just wanted to be left alone. You’d ask about his daughter, the one he sparsely spoke about, and he’d bark at you until you regretted even thinking about her. He didn’t make things easy on you, but Joel did care about you. Even if he was shit at showing it.

He pushed you away, maybe you took the hint and left him.

On day seven, he started asking around about you, something he saved as a last resort. The less you two were seen together, the better. You had him worried sick, and he was damn near ready to raid Robert’s warehouse to see if he had taken you, made you his girl against your will.

That was until he caught a glimpse of you going past the market. It didn’t take much, he recognized your figure and trailed you with his eyes. You were walking towards spare housing, with a heavy backpack and a sweatshirt on. Your arms were wrapped securely around you, and your head was down.

He navigated through the crowds, jaw tight, putting down heavy steps on the broken gravel road as he pushed people out of his way with a guided hand on their shoulder. He followed you out of the crowd and down the street lined with stone barricades and rubble from a recent building that was raided by patrol on the hunt for Fireflies. You turned sharply down an alleyway, and Joel followed you, needing to see if you were okay, looking for answers.

As soon as Joel took the alley, he was attacked and harshly shoved backward, his shoulder blades smacking the red brick wall behind him. A small switchblade was then shoved against the protruding vein in his neck, heated puffs of breath leaving him. He initially panicked in the moment, his hand tightening around the wrist that held him there.

“Why the hell are you following me?” You bark at him, head still lowered. Joel’s eyes narrow at the sound of your voice.

He speaks your name.

Your strength relaxes, and you lift your head up to see you had pinned Joel. Shit, you thought one of Robert’s men was following you from town. You let out an exhausted breath of relief.

“You’re really holdin’ me up with the knife I gave you?” Joel asks. He smacks the back of your hand, reflexes making your fist open up and lose the grip on your switchblade. Joel snags it with his free hand and glares at you. He takes the opportunity to shove your forearm off his chest, the one that was pinning him against the wall, and sending you a few paces back from the force he exerts. He hesitates but folds the blade back into the handle, and offers it back to you.

You let out a sigh of relief to see that it was just Joel. But this was still a problem.

You retrieve the switchblade you accidentally surrendered to him and stuff it into your sweatshirt pocket. You cross your arms and look away to the entrance of the alley. “What the hell are you doing following me, Joel?”

He lets out a scoff through his nose and shoots daggers out of his eyes that you won’t meet. “What the hell am I doin’? Where the hell have you been?” He tries not to bark so loud. You won’t stop staring at the entrance of the alley, and Joel’s not sure if you’re thinking about running or thinking about being ambushed.

He grabs your arm and drags you further into the alley, sunset on the horizon. He brings you to the back of an old school that was ready to collapse. He pushes you back against the wall and stands close, too close.

“Answer me, what the hell happened to you?” His voice shoots goosebumps across your skin, low and growling for answers.

The grip he has on your arm tightens and washes a flood of heat over your injured arm. Your mouth hisses with hurt, trying to breathe through the pain. You shake him off of you and clutch your arm lightly. “‘M fine, Joel, I can manage.”

You’re speaking with a break in your voice that Joel can’t quite place. The hood you’re wearing is working overtime to shield your face.

He pauses before he slowly looks over you. “Why are you wearin’ a sweatshirt in the middle of summer?”

The silence he’s met with only leaves him more curious. What are you hiding? He swiftly pushes the hood off your head before you can stop him, and he’s not prepared for what he sees.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his large hands delicately coming up and caressing your cheeks.

You sigh and roll your eyes. The skin around your right eye is blueish-purple. You lightly twinged at the contact, no matter how delicate he was being. “It’s not as bad as it seems, it doesn’t hurt-”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Joel mutters, lightly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger as he angles your face from left to right, allowing him to get a full look at the damage done to you. You glance down at his broken watch for comfort, the band fraying and the glass shattered, but he still wore it.

You can’t exactly explain why your lower lip starts to wobble. It was so hard to stay away from Joel, to distance yourself, but it was all for keeping him safe. Your small fists lightly clutch the button-up shirt he’s wearing around his abdomen, finally feeling a slight sense of security.

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery.”

“Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you.

You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-”

“Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.” His thumb gently examines the cut on your lip. You curl it inwards to stray from his touch. “Robert do this to you? His guys?” Joel’s asking accusingly, and you know better than to lie to him. You swallow the growing lump in your throat and gently nod, blinking back tears.

His face grows taut with anger, his brows furrowing and the creases in his forehead are set in stone. His jaw is clamped shut while he grits his teeth. Joel’s probably thinking of a million scenarios of how to put Robert down. Which way would last the longest, string out the torture, make him apologize to you, and beg for his life. Make him apologize to Joel for ever touching a hand on what was his.

“Joel, you need to take a breath. Focus.” The last thing you wanted was for Joel to go on a rampage tonight in search of Robert. “I’m fine, this shit happens. We’ll get back on track and-”

“Can’t believe they let you live.” He murmurs, taking a look at the damage that he can visibly see before lightly sighing and releasing your face. You’re quick to pull the hood back up and cross your arms in front of you as some sort of shield.

His eyes are sunken in, his chest is lightly heaving as he tries to sort through his muddled thoughts. The rain is starting to scatter more, hitting your muddy sneakers and Joel’s dark denim shirt. The setting sun meant curfew was just around the corner.

“Come on. We’re goin’ home. Need to take a look at you in the light." You hesitate but his eyes are pleading for you to just let him take care of you. So you let him.

---

You travel up the same staircase you did just a week ago, limping and injured, broken and feeling guilty. Joel needed that battery for the truck. He was going to leave Boston and go to find his brother, Tommy. Neither of you had discussed if you would come with. For Joel, you think you might do just about anything for him if he asked.

He stabs his key into the lock of his door. You hear a crying baby in a neighboring apartment, it was probably startled awake by the blaring of the curfew alarm. Lightning and thunder crack outside as Joel pushes open the door. You follow him inside and set down your backpack by the door like you usually do. Another strike of lightning makes his apartment flood itself with white-silver streaks of light, if only for a moment. Joel flips the lock back into place and hits the switch to the one overhead light in between the kitchen and the living room. You’re sweating up a storm in your sweatshirt.

Though living in Boston’s QZ wasn’t great, you had to admit that not every quarantine zone had clean water and electricity. Joel had an old standing oscillating fan that was stationed at the foot of his bed during the summers since he ran so warm all the time. He said he traded about four or five meals worth of ration cards to get it, said that it was considered a steal. You shed the heavy material of your sweatshirt and sit tiredly down at the end of his bed, closing your eyes as the fan wicks away your sweat and cools your face.

Living in spare housing the past week was hell. You barely slept. The homeless, sick, and injured all found their way to spare housing. You weren’t safe there. And you didn’t have any ration cards to your name. You had to trade one singular, perfectly clean syringe to afford four rolls of bread. It was all you could get at the time being. Everyone was fighting for work, knowing ration cards and food were low. Since you were still somewhat new to the QZ, you weren’t given privileges. You laid on a nasty, old cot for a week. Joel’s small apartment was heaven. The solitude was peaceful.

Joel was standing at the sink, water running over a cloth as he stared down at the water circling the drain. He needed to take a breath, set his anger aside, and get you to talk.

Joel wrings out the rag, loose droplets of water splattering in the sink before he sits down at his small wooden kitchen table. “C’mere.” He whispers, taking your attention away from the fan. You slowly stand up and make your way to the table under the central light in his living room, sighing softly as you slowly sink into the accompanying chair. Now in the light, he observes your injuries closer.

Without your sweatshirt on, he can see bruises and scrapes along your arms, residual blood on your knuckles and under your nails. His little fighter. He notes that your tanktop is a bit shredded, and he fears the worst.

You catch him staring and intervene. “Don’t worry. I didn’t let them get close enough to touch me like that.” You glance down at the sweaty tank top and lightly tug on the hole. “Just got this while I was running away, trying to hop a fence.”

Joel frowns and slowly works his eyes over you. “‘S not like you to get caught. You’re pretty damn fast.”

You held down a bubble of laughter as your fingers played with the fraying material of your top. “Yeah, well, they already got one or two good hits on me, so I was a little hazy.” Your words don’t settle him. They infuriate him.

He brings his attention to your face. Your eye must have been swollen at one point, but it wasn’t anymore. The puffiness had gone down, and the bruises were in their final stages of healing. You have another more prominent bruise on your cheekbone, black and blue, but it’s not broken. That’s good. The cut on your eyebrow and the matching one on your lip catches his attention. A man with a ring.

“Red hair? Crooked nose, missing a front tooth?”

You blink a few times rapidly, curious as to how the hell Joel knew the characteristics of one of your attackers.

“How did you…” You start to say until your words trail off, shaking your head in confusion.

Joel sneers lightly and brings the wet rag up to gently dab at the cut on your lip. “Not a lot of men are stupid enough to wear a ring that basically signs their name on whoever’s face they’re knocking in.” How he describes your fight makes you flinch and shift uncomfortably in your chair, evading his eye contact. “Sorry.” He mutters quietly. “His name is Chase, Jase, somethin’ stupid like that. One of Robert’s guys.” Joel’s words lightly flitter off as he shifts his attention to your lip once more.

It was still swollen and angry. You probably tried to eat with it still agitated and delayed its healing. But you know this already. You ate because you didn’t have a choice. It was that, or starve. He hated knowing you were roaming the streets in a horrible hunger, especially when he had ration cards waiting for you at home.

Your eyes twitch closed as Joel’s wet rag rinses the blood out of the cut on your lip, the old excess blood lightly trickling into your mouth. Your tastebuds catch the tang of metallic and salt. You did what you could with the medical supplies you had, but you didn’t want to waste on yourself what you could potentially sell. If you were avoiding Joel for a while, you needed to be able to make trades of your own. You did use some supplies to clean the cut on your head. You were lucky the wall you were thrown into didn’t leave you with a concussion.

Joel is still wrestling with why the hell you didn’t come home, why he had to go out and find you. Why, why, why? Why did he let you go alone? Why did the deal go south? A terrible feeling soured his stomach. Robert’s men were ruthless, they must have felt kind enough to let you live. Or it was a message to Joel from Robert. You’re next.

Joel wasn’t scared of Robert, but for them to be scared of a young woman was a mystery for the masses.

He tosses the rag down on the table and stands up. “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em.” He grunts up, his lips snarling and his nostrils flaring in heated fury.

He storms to the kitchen and impatiently fills up a glass of water. Joel was fantasizing about plunging his thumbs into Robert’s eye sockets and squeezing until his head turned into mush. Or maybe Joel could take him to the Eastern district, throw him in the Massachusetts Bay, and hold him underwater, only bringing him up from the brink of drowning before pushing him down again. And again. And again.

Your sweet voice breaks Joel’s murderous thoughts. “Joel, I owe you the battery, and I promise I’ll find another one. Just give me a little time and-”

Joel slams the glass of water on the counter, the clatter of it echoing around the room. “Don’t care about the damn battery!” His back is to you, broad and strong shoulders heaving lightly as his head hangs low. His hands are gripping the edge of the counter. “Thought they fuckin’ kidnapped you! Or worse!”

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, your lower lip wobbling once more as he slowly starts shaking his head.

“I almost lost you, and it’s my fault.”

Your eyes soften at his words. He’s felt this way before, and he’s been haunted by the mistake ever since. His daughter, you think.

His low, southern drawl makes you focus on him once more. “Tell me why you hid. Why didn’t you come to me? We could have figured things out, for fuck’s sake!” He shouts as he turns to face you, his body falling back into the counter as he crosses his arms.

Your chest swells with heavy emotion. You stand up so fast from your chair that its sent scraping backward. “I did come here! I did! I heard you inside and I..” you pause and shake your head, still finding your voice.

“I was scared you’d be upset with me letting someone steal the battery, I was afraid you’d go after Robert and get yourself fucking-- killed, Joel! I don’t want you to die, okay? I need you!”

“And I need you!” He shouts back, lips parted with heavy breaths, both of you trying to settle with the newly shared revelation.

You both stare at each other from across the room, watching as Joel’s jaw slowly begins to click loose. He shoves himself up off the counter and closes the distance between you two. You hesitantly take a step back, and he pauses his footsteps. His eyes soften, and he looks as broken as you do.

“Please,” he pleads, gently shaking his head. “Would never hurt you, baby.” He puts his hand out, a gesture of kindness and warmth that you’d missed all week, yet you still hesitate. You almost wait too long, he’s already reeling his hand back into his side.

“Joel,” you whisper with soft relief. You eagerly take a few steps forward, ignoring his hand, and gently settle your head on his chest as you tightly squeeze your arms around his lower back. You close your eyes and melt into him, finding solace in Joel’s embrace.

Joel’s arms stay hovering in the air for a moment, lips parted as he looks down at the top of your head. He shames himself for even hesitating. He puts one hand on the side of your head and holds you to his chest, while the other settles low on your back. He breaths peacefully for the first time in a week.

You stay like that for who knows how long. He’s warm, and you feel protected. You sink into his arms, he takes on your weight. He walks you backward to the foot of his bed once more, letting you delicately fall back into the mattress. You watch with tired eyes as he unties the laces of your sneakers, one after the other. He shucks down your jeans, making you giggle.

“Joel, you don’t wanna fuck me right now, I smell like spare housing.”

The right side of his mouth twitches up as he shakes his head at you. “I know you do. ‘M takin’ you to shower.”

You sit up on your elbows as you smile a bit bashfully at him. “Good. Because I’m too sore to fool around anyway.” You whisper with a teasing smile as you grab the bottom of your tank top, peeling it up and off of your sticky skin. Joel tries not to stare. You’re not sure if he’s clocking your naked figure or the bruising around your ribs and legs.

You’d need some time to heal. Joel knows you do. While you shower, he makes you as big of a feast he can muster up with the canned goods he has in his cupboards. You try to eat the first real meal you’ve had in a week slowly, to savor the taste, but you end up shoveling your spoon into the bowl and scraping it clean.

Joel’s eyes are on you the whole time, watching you, observing you. He won’t let you out of his sight for a while, but maybe that’s what’s good for you. You meet his gaze and he speaks a silent vow. We’ll find Robert, steal the battery back, then kill him and anyone else who laid a finger on you. He nods. You nod too.

Joel’s not sure how late it is by the time you two fall into bed together. He doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him, but he says it in the way he holds you. Back in his arms, he’s more alert of how sore you are from your fight. He gently cups your face, watching your eyes slowly flutter closed with long blinks. You must be so tired. And he doesn’t want to keep you awake. He’s afraid to look away, like if he lets you out of his sight, you’ll disappear again.

He speaks your name and gently stirs you awake. “Hm?” You softly murmur, bringing your hand up and gently feeling over the planes of Joel’s chest, fingers lightly grazing his chest hair.

He looks down at you for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “Don’t run away like that again.” His words are stern before he pauses again, lightly pushing some hair behind your ear and touching you like a delicate flower. You watch him attentively. He cups your jawline and angles you to look up at him. “We’re takin’ that battery back, and we’re gettin’ the hell out of here. You hear me?”

Your heart swells at his words. We. You slowly nod in agreement. You feel Joel’s gentle kisses on your forehead and the tip of your nose. You lean up to capture his lips, but he falters by an inch. A confused expression crosses your face.

“You’re hurt.” He mutters, referring to the cut on your lip. Don’t wanna hurt ya, sweet girl.

You roll your eyes and take his face in your small hands. “Don’t care.” You whisper before you pull him in, and the two of you share a featherlight kiss. You let it last, both of you soaking it in after a week apart. A week too long.

Joel’s the first to pull away, giving you a playful little glare. The bruising on your face reminds him of the boxing movies he grew up watching. “Easy, Rocky.”

You look at him confused and cock your head. “Who?”

He rolls his eyes at you and sighs, gently running his hand down your side. “Go to sleep. I’ll teach you about Rocky one through five tomorrow. D’you at least get a few good hits on Robert or his guys?”

You hum quietly and let your eyes dip closed. “Mhm.”

“Like I taught ya?”

“Just like you taught me. Gave ‘em the ole left, right, goodnight." You bring up your fists to demonstrate. "Made Robert’s nose bleed, think I broke it.”

Your head falls into Joel’s chest, feeling it rumble with laughter and a sense of pride. “That’s my girl.”

His body shields you from the outside world. You sleep like a rock for the rest of the night. You live another day, and so does Joel. But with Joel’s promise, you know Robert’s days are numbered. You’ll be sure of it.

---

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sybaritick · 1 year

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Absolutely thrilled to have stumbled across your 1972 security council rp tag. Legitimately exciting to know someone is into such a thing! If it's not too strange / personal to ask, would you be able to elaborate on what that entails and what's appealing about that specific rp for you? I'm curious but I can't quite get my head around it

I love talking about this stuff, so thanks for asking! I'm aware it's very weird but I think the reasoning behind it is surprisingly normal (in terms of how kinks develop).

I've explained this to a few friends on Discord so I will use those screenshots to assist me in this presentation.

so the backdrop to all of this is that I love to play the bad guy. As a small child in play-pretend games I would want to be the villain. I liked to be "it" during tag. As long as it's within the confines of a game/everyone knows we're just playing, I just like to be scary :)

But with this particular kink, I'm pretty sure it comes from some particular affecting experiences I had as a young teenager. I wrote my first Hetalia fanfic when I was 12 and then was very involved in model UN starting at age ~14. (I was really competitive about it and ended up even getting to a national competition once in high school, lol).

as a pretty weird teenage girl (now trans man) lot of my first experiences having crushes, or having someone else have a crush on me, were at model UN events. It let me feel powerful (because I was good at it) and I realized that having others act like I was powerful and threatening (in this ultimately harmless LARP type situation) was really hot to me.

(many such stories...)

I loved playing the US diplomat when I got to because obviously you get to play evil puppetmaster world power so I would lean into that and have fun with it.

The period of history I connected to most in terms of US interventionism was the Nixon era, just because there were so many examples during that period of the US trying to control the rest of the world. I ended up reading some Kissinger biographies (Kissinger by Walter Isaacson and Nixon and Kissinger: Partners in Power by Robert Dallek) when I was 18-19 and it really just cemented my obsession with the incredible harm he was able to cause and just how much of an affect he had on US foreign policy.

I'm particularly interested in economic coercion/the IMF and World Bank as instruments of US hegemony. Actually...

but ofc it's not just the 1970s, I like fantastical modern scenarios too:

(removed my boyfriend's name, sure it's just a first name but do they really wanna be in this post)

so yeah! tl;dr: it's a power thing, I like it in a D/s way. I got some wires crossed in my brain and "I like when people act scared of me [sexual]" became associated with "I like when people act scared of me because they're aware of the rotten machine of US global hegemony that lurks behind my words [sexual apparently]"

#cal txt #personal #politics #1972 nixon national security council rp tag #asks #madamechatterlaine

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calisources · 6 months

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑? 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒.

All these quotes are taken from different media and some made from scratch about the royal succession line and the troubles it brought during a medieval/fantasy period. Change pronouns, names, titles and locations as you see fit.

You poison a king so that they may take his place.

Have no fear, Stark. I was only keeping it warm for our friend Robert. It's not a very comfortable seat, I'm afraid.

I swear to you, sitting a throne is a thousand times harder than winning one.

Seat Stannis on the Iron Throne and I promise you, the realm will bleed.

I will claim the Iron Throne by myself, with your swords and your allegiance.

If Daenerys is no more than a sweet young girl, the Iron Throne will cut her into sweet young pieces.

Princess Catherine. Your loss has endeared you to the people. They share your grief.

You've had your courses for days, but you do not tell anyone. I don't understand.

God would have me wed Prince Harry.

But you are his brother's widow. It is impossible. It is forbidden.

I am every inch the soldier... And commander.

In England, widows don't handle swords, much less a widow carrying a prince in her womb.

And I'll wager that you were praying for a boy.

My mother is already planning my next marriage, though in God's eyes it will be my first marriage.

If you are still a maid, then, Catherine, I can be your husband.

I will raise you up, you... you and all of England. You will be my princess and... and my queen.

Ten years since the king has been on the throne and there is no heir apparent. Only his brother, gods forbid.

Daughters don’t inherit, sons do.

You have a son but you must have a spare too. Gods know what would happen if the boy dies.

The line of succession is clear on these matters. Girls are the last resource.

I am a woman, whoever I marry must be clear on his duty. He is not the crown, I am.

His Majesty has no male heir and will have none but he, Buckingham will succeed to the throne.

By assassinating His Majesty.

Right of Conquest is still a rightful way to gain a throne. Has anyone banned it as a law?

Will you like it when an old man tries to make love to you?

God forbid that the king should abandon her just to ease his own conscience. I don't think the English people would ever forgive him.

She is threatening the peace in this realm by playing the king with empty promises. No one can predict a son.

Perhaps the succession must change, this dynasty is large and will survive.

Your Majesty, I beg that you yield to the King's will.

To your wife, the mother of your child. You treat me so unkindly and in public neglect me.

You think he might invade England in support of the queen?

You underestimate the support he/she has with the smallfolk and highborn alike. They would go to war if you dismiss them.

Perhaps, one day this little girl will preside over empires.

Now I am indeed Queen.

Perhaps Elizabeth isn't even mine!

Perhaps there should be reasons to annul the marriage and make the king consider marry another. He is still young.

Nothing like a young bride to make a man forget his troubles.

He will have his heir or else he will have my head.

Tell Sir Francis to double the guards around the Princess Mary and defend her with their life- for if the King dies, some will be for the boy, others for her.

There shall be a proclamation soon, the king shall announce his heir and the realm will rest.

A lifetime of building an empire can fall in a day because of the wrong successor to the empire.

It is not by blood, anyhow, that man's true continuity is established.

He became their king by right of blood; he's held the position by beating the crap out of anyone who tries to take it away.

When the crown is weak and struggles, anyone can come and sweep it away. And in this world, it is allowed.

This small council tried to work out what that meant for the line of succession.

If she were to wed him, her claim to the throne will increase, as her popularity.

While the king entertains the highborns, the prince/princess makes friends with the people they rule. The decision is easy.

Whoever he marries is as important as how many heirs he can produce.

Sons are good for the realm, Daughters are good for alliances.

My father chose me, his firstborn child, to succeed him. He held to his decision until death.

They stole my crown and murdered my daughter, and they shall answer for it.

I would rather feed my sons to the dragons, than have them carry spears and cups for your drunken, usurper cunt of a king.

I understand why you're angry. And you are my sister and technically have a claim to the throne. And believe me, I would love for someone else to rule. But it can't be you.

Father would hate to see you sit in his seat, when it was never you he chose.

The pretty decent king split the crown between his heirs.

Proclamations are good, but this should have been in written, send to every corner of the world. Now we have war.

When the king needed to be replaced, one of the royal family would be elected to be the new king.

Succession is never peaceful. The King new this and the reason he called a council for his new heir to be chosen.

The line must always continue.

That little bit of dragon blood in him allowed Robert Baratheon to sit on the throne and continue.

Our son is a wastrel and a halfwit. We shudder to think of the throne in his hands.

My greatest hope is that you will surpass me in every way, consigning my name to some forgotten corner of history.

What's most important is what he isn't like—his father. I think you'll find him to be a reasonable man.

The King is easily controlled by those in his council. All too happy to give some of the power away to another.

A king is a martyr to their ideals.

If the world of men is to survive, a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne.

Women can rule as wise as men, perhaps even more.

Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne.

Have you never imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?

We have royal wombs, you and I. The child bed is our battlefield.

Ten years you’ve been king, and yet not once have you asked me to be your Hand.

The princess remains your best bet to step closer to the throne. Seduce her, marry her.

In the end, history will remember little, as history is written by the winners.

You have not one son now but two, Your Grace. Perhaps some changes to the successions are to be made.

I know why you are here. Men want my crown as much as they want the pleasure of a woman.

I need to give the realm an heir and plenty of spares.

What use is to gain a throne if you are already in crisis by having no heir by blood?

I can give you what she never gave you. Another son.

Are the rumors true, then? There is a child in your belly?

All of my father’s work will crumble if I leave it all to a weak sickly child.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #medieval meme #tournament meme #tourney meme

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slashingdisneypasta · 6 months

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Horror House Reacts... to Zoo Animals!

.I've been watching Robert Irwin and Dave Salmoni take wild animals onto the Jimmy Shows and scare the Jimmy's and various other guest stars sOooooo... I had to make this XD

Plot: We are gonna hand each horror Villains a dangerous animal and see how they handle it. Warnings: Swearing. No actual mention of meerkats despite the gif.

Audrey II: A European Brown Hare.

Audrey II, staring at this hare stood up on its hind legs giving them the Eye: ... that is one ugly bunny rabbit. Y/N: AUDREY TWO!!- Audrey II: wh- AM I WRONG?-

Audrey II has no fear, they're a plant from outer space. He also doesn't particularly care for animals though, since its pretty globally accepted that animals are allowed to eat plants when they're peckish... and understandably, they are not having that. Not in this green house XD Nu uh, no siree, nope nope nope, the hare is gonna get eaten first if he even looks at Audrey II wrong.

Billy Loomis: An Emperor Scorpion.

Y/N: Close your eyes and put out your hands. Billy: ... *sigh* *does as he's told as to not be called a coward* Y/N: *Places the scorpion in Billy's cupped hands* Open them! ^^ This is Phil, he's very chill. Please don't drop him. Billy: ... heheh, can I keep this?? Y/N: ?? What??? No, you cant keep Phil- Billy: I wanna leave him in Stu's bed. Y/N: DEFINITELY not-

Billy, is... *sigh*, a teenage boy.

Bubba Sawyer: A Red Kangaroo.

Bubba: *Very cautious, looking at this jacked foreign creature. He's never seen anything like this, he lives in buttfuck nowhere Texas with no tv.* Y/N: Here, Bubba. *hands Bubba a bouquet of gum leaves* Offer her these. Bubba: *Unsure, but approaches the weird pocketed creature and offers out the branches... Quickly calms down when the kangaroo starts simply munching on the leaves* Y/N: See? ^^ Bubba: *Already petting the kangaroo. Wants to take her home and keep her safe and pet her and give her leaves forever.*

Bubba does not love casually 😅😅😅 Once he's warmed up to someone, that person is his family and he wants to keep them safe. My suggestion?? Sneak the kangaroo back to the zoo in the dead of night while Bubba's asleep. (or call Drayton. He certainly don't want no goddamn kangaroo in his house)

Carrie White: A Boa Constrictor.

Carrie: Um, is this safe?? *Eyeing the snake's head closely as you place her gently over her shoulders* ... Y/N: Oh yeah, don't worry, this one's a sweetheart ^^ Carrie: Okay... *snake raises her head and looks around very peacefully, just surveying the room* Oh, she's sweet!... Y/N: She seems very comfortable with you! Carrie: ! Really??

Carrie was apprehensive at first, but when she realises that the boa is not feeling threatened (or hungry), she relaxes and spends quite a while with the snake in her arms! ^^ She's disappointed when she has to say goodbye ):

Chucky Lee Ray: An Eastern Canadian Moose.

Chucky: *staring up at this giant fucking creature, clearly ready to run at any second if the thing makes an unpleasant move* ... You have gotta be fucken kidding me. Y/N: Nope. This is Jessica-Mae! She's from Canada, and she's really nice. I think she'll let you sit on her back, if you wan- Chucky: No I don't wanna sit on Jessica-Mae's back actually Y/N, Jessica-Mae is a fucken monster- Y/N: c h u c k y

Chucky has a... healthy cautiousness when it comes to wild animals XD He does like tarantulas, though.

Freddy Krueger: A West African Lion.

Y/N: Okay so for this one, um, I'm uh... yeah I'm gonna step out. Freddy: ... wait. Wait wait wait. Why are you- *You close the door one side of the room and as soon as the lock clicks into place, the lion prowls in on the other side* Freddy: Oh. Freddy, hands out like 'i mean no harm': ... nice kitty Freddy: ... um. I saw the lion king. It was... a great piece of cinema; your people should be proud. Freddy: ... please don't eat me, you giant son of a bitch.

Freddy was SO EXCITED to meet an animal, but now he's got some concerns about those teeth and his privates.

Jason Voorhees: A Ussuri Grizzly Bear.

Bear: ... *Staring down Jason* Jason: ... *Staring down Bear* Bear and Jason: *Staring each other down* Y/N: ... *Wondering if you should do something* Jason: *Suddenly walks over and gives the bear neck scritches*

... this is a giant toothy puppy to Jason XD Jason loves wildlife, they were his friends growing up in the woods! ^^ And he knows how to keep them calm, so he's very good with them. He hangs out with the bear until its time to go outside, then Jason follows him outside and hangs with him out there ^^

Jennifer Check: A White Rhinoceros.

Jennifer, as soon as Grizelda the rhino steps in: -oh jesus fucking christ. Jennifer: You're fat. Y/N: Oy! Jennifer: What??? She's meant to be, right?? 🙄 G o d... look who's animal-cist. Jennifer: ... can I feed the fat bitch?

The fact that this is an animal does not change a thing about the way Jennifer talks to her XD She is so fascinated, though, and wants to feed Grizelda, pet Grizelda, ask many many questions about Grizelda... she loves her.

Jerry Dandridge: A Perentie Monitor Lizard (Goanna).

Y/N, helping goanna onto Jerry's lap: Now, be careful with Sandy, he can be kinda easily startled and then his claws will cut into your skin, and- Jerry: *Getting along great with the Sandy, Sandy is in the best mood you have ever seen him in; purring.* Y/N: ... Y/N: ... wtf, how?! Sandy's usually so grumpy!- Jerry: Oh I guess we just have a connection~

Jerry and reptiles get along great, they're cold blooded and he... is always cold. He has no blood. He's a vampire XD Try giving him a puppy, though, and watch that puppy leap away from him and growl like a possessed thing (Jerry gets so frowny about it XD).

Michael Myers: A Bengal Tiger.

Michael: *Stock still, actually considering running for the first time in 50 decades* Tiger: ... *yawns* *prowls over to Michael and lays on top of his feet, promptly falling asleep* Y/N: ... um. Well, I think she likes you?? Michael: *Does not move an inch for 3 hours while the tiger naps, staring at it*

Michael, just like cats... is a bitch. They basically adopt him into their family as their big dumb weirdo child (Yes, even the big terrifying ones) and there is not a thing grumpy old Myers can do about it XD

Pamela Voorhees: A Silver Fox.

Pam: *Loves the fox. Sitting in her chair and leaning down to give it treats. Cooing at her.* Y/N: You're so good with her! ^^ Pam: ~Stay away from my son, dear, and I wont have to sick her on you~ Y/N: ... D: What?

Pamela and a sharp toothed creature is a dangerous combination. Stay away from her son.

Patrick Bateman: An African Savanna Elephant.

Patrick: *A too-big smile glued to his face as he strokes the dirty wrinkly elephant* This is... this is fun... Y/N: I knew you'd like her! ^^ Anna is so sweet, and gentle, and quiet, so- Patrick: -You cant tell when I'm fucken lying through my t e e t h!?

Patrick doesn't like any animals, they're wild and filthy and break irreplaceable things he spent hard-earned money on to be unique, but he will force a pleasant face because that is what he does

Pennywise: A Mountain Zebra.

*i was tempted to do a turtle but... seemed too obvious XD Still unsure i made the right call*

Penny: Heheheheh, whats black, white and- Y/N: Don't do it. I swear. Dont do it. Penny: Okay okay okay, I'll be serious. Hey, why do zebras have stripes? Y/N: Oh, well they developed stripes because- Penny: Because they didn't want to be Spotted!

Penny c a n n o t s t o p m a k i n g z e b r a j o k e s. Otherwise, he's pretty good with the zebra. No problems ^^

Stu Macher: A Somali Ostrich.

Stu: Heheh... Y/N, these things don't bite, do they?? Y/N: Oh they totally do. *Hands Stu the leash* Anything with a mouth bites. Stu, levelling his gaze with the giant flightless bird: ... I will bite you back.

Stu is a little chicken, but he's also really curious!! XDD So sure, he'll hang onto the leash and feed the monster bird!! But he will absolutely crouch down and cover his head if the ostrich starts fluttering his wings. And don't you dare leave him XD

Tiffany Valentine: Baby Nile Crocodiles.

Tiff: Chucky!! We have new children now!! Chucky: THE FUCK WE DO- Y/N: N- no... you cant keep them actually... Tiff, ignoring you and Chucky: The kids are gonna love these ^^ Come on, sweethearts, into the sack, single file now- hey, Trudy, no biting your brother-

Tiffany is in love XD And you know how one-track-minded she can be when she's in love XD

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sailor-aviator · 10 months

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Til the Summer Comes Again: Chapter One

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

"I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, 'Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.'" — Lewis Carrol

Summary: Bob was a winter spirit who loved what he did. He loved making individual snowflakes. He loved the way the snow sparkled in the winter sun. He loved the laughter his creations brought to people around the world. What he didn't expect, was to fall in love with a human girl from a small town. He has until the summer comes again for her to reciprocate his feelings if he wants to remain on earth, but will the shadows that haunt her get in the way of happily ever after? (JackFrost! AU)

Trigger Warnings: Language, Flirting, Talks of past trauma, Allusions to depressive episodes, Allusions to failing, Magic, Elemental/Seasonal Spirits, Mentions of feeling watched. I think that's it.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: I realize that not too terribly much happened in this chapter, but things are just getting warmed up! Be sure to join the tag list too if you haven't already so you don't miss out on any updates! I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts, and stay tuned for an exciting little announcement. As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where all of my works will also be published! If you enjoy my work, please consider sending me a tip!

Series Masterlist || Robert "Bob" Floyd Tag List

There was a chill in the air as you walked into the tired, old bookstore on the corner of main and first. The building was as old as the town of North Island, Maine itself. You weren’t sure if it had always been a bookstore, but it had been ever since your mother was a child. She had insisted on moving closer to her parents who were getting on in years, and your father had readily complied as his job allowed him the privilege of working remotely. Your mother would bring you with her to the bookstore every so often, perusing the old books as you sat in the corner with whatever book had caught your eye that day.

“There’s magic in old books, Sugar Plum,” she would say. “You just have to know where to look for it.”

And while you loved books, dance was your first love, hence your mother’s nickname for you. She had loved dancing as a child, but left it behind in pursuit of other endeavors, something she regretted immensely. Which is why she had signed you up for dance lessons at an early age, and when you were cast as a sugar plum fairy alongside the older girls one year? She was ecstatic, calling you her little sugar plum so much that the name had just stuck, even beyond the world of dance.

Your mother had led you into the kindergarten classroom as your little hands wrapped around her leg nervously.

“There’s no need to be scared, Sugar Plum,” she had cooed, coaxing you out from behind her as you peered around the room at the other children with your little eyes. “Everyone here is new too.”

“But I don’t wanna leave you,” you pouted, tears springing to your eyes at the thought of your mother leaving you behind. She kneeled down in front of you, rubbing her hands up and down your arms in a bid to soothe you.

“It won’t be forever,” she assured you, smiling softly. “It’s only until three o’clock today. And then you get to come home!”

“What if no one likes me?” You whispered, the tears threatening to spill over now. It was one thing to be in a new place by yourself, but for no one to like you on top of it? Your mind couldn’t comprehend the horror.

“That’s not going to happen, Sugar Plum,” she chuckled, running a hand over your hair. “How could anyone not like you?”

Before you could answer, a girl with dark hair and big brown eyes came skipping up to the two of you with a huge smile.

“Hi!” she chirped, looking at you. “I’m Natasha, but you can call me Nat. What’s your name?”

You gave it to her, still clinging to your mother. “But my family calls me Sugar Plum.”

“Sugar Plum?” Nat hummed, cocking her head to the side in thought. “Like the fairies?”

You perked up at her words, letting go of your mother’s pant leg and stepping forward.

“Yeah!” You grinned. “I wanna be in the ballet!”

“You dance?” She asked, eyes growing wide as you nodded. “That’s so cool! Come on, I wanna tell Bradley and Reuben!”

You followed after her, giggling. You turned just long enough to wave goodbye to your mother before running off after Nat who introduced you to the two boys.

The little group had adopted you quickly, and the years passed with them by your side. They came to every dance recital you had, cheering you on as best they could, and every cancelled weekend plan was forgiven as you chased your dream of making it big as a dancer.

“There’s always next time,” Nat had assured you while Bradley and Reuben nodded alongside her.

“Chase your dreams, SP,” Reuben had grinned.

“We’ll be waiting for you on the other side,” Bradley had tossed in, ruffling your hair.

You couldn’t have asked for better friends, truly.

And then it had all come crashing down. The memory of the spotlight on you, standing on the stage and being unable to move, the tears that had streamed down your face as you stared into a wall of darkness. The unseen eyes that stared back at you before you ran off the stage.

It had been humiliating, and it had been your friends who had helped you pick up the pieces afterwards.

“You don’t have to try again now,” Nat had assured you, wiping your tears when they fell. You had all been gathered in your room a couple of days after the incident, you in your pajamas and buried under piles of blankets. “It’s okay to take the time to rest.”

“Who needs to go to a fancy school, anyway?” Bradley had smiled, hugging you close into his side. “You don’t need someone else to tell you how good you are.”

“Dopey here has a point,” Reuben added, earning a scowl from the other man. “You’re amazing, SP. We’ve known that all along. You just gotta be the one to realize it now.”

Their words still echoed in your mind months later. Since that day, you had gotten a quiet, part-time job at your beloved bookstore, working under the watchful eye of Pete Mitchell.

“Call me Mav or Maverick,” he had smiled at you when he offered you the job, and you had agreed with the condition that he call you by your nickname as well. Maverick was a kind, older man. A local who had left for decades before coming back.

“What did you do while you were away?” You asked him one day. You had dreamed of leaving the small town too, one day, but that dream seemed so far away now. He hummed, thumbing through an ancient-looking book. The ink was fading against the yellowed pages, but there was an air of mystery surrounding the tome.

“I did several things,” he answered, glancing up at you. “Learned lots of things. Maybe one day I’ll teach you.”

Maverick was a strange, old man.

You weren’t the only one that worked at the bookstore. Maverick had three attendants that worked in the store with you, and they were an odd bunch to be sure. There was Jake, a handsome blond with a cocky smile. He was a man who was sure of himself, and more than once he had tried to woo you with all kinds of flowers and one liners. Next was Javy, a stoic charmer whose smile felt like you were bathing in the sun. He was the most levelheaded out of the three and the one you went to when you needed help with a project. Last, was Mickey. Mickey appeared to be the closest in age to you with a grin always on his face as he hopped around the store. He was also the most animated of the three, reminding you of a puppy with his seemingly endless amounts of energy.

The three seemed normal enough, but odd as well. One or more of them would often pop up out of nowhere, sending you into near cardiac arrest a number of times. There were times where you’d catch Jake talking to the plants around the store, and you would almost swear you’d see the plant perk up as he crooned at them. Then there was the time Javy got so mad at Jake after the blond had “forgotten” to do the dusting for the fifth time that week, and you swear the gust of wind that followed was calculated. Or the time that you heard Mickey sneeze followed by Jake shouting, “dammit, Mickey!” You had rounded the corner to find the brunette grimacing sheepishly as Jake frantically slapped out the smoldering document. It wasn’t until later that you realized that there hadn’t been a candle in sight.

Yes, they were an odd bunch to be sure, but you were very fond of them.

“What are you three doing hanging around an old bookstore like this, anyway?” You had asked them one day. Mickey had perked up from where he was looking over a book that had seen better days, grinning at you wildly.

“Oh, we’re his apprentices!” He laughed. “He’s teaching us ma-”

“How to manage books,” Javy interrupted, stepping over and placing a hand at the base of Mickey’s neck. Mickey winced, scowling up at the larger man. “Maverick is teaching us how to take care of all of the older books here.”

“I see,” you hummed as Mickey shrugged the other man off, shooting him a glare before fixing his gaze back on you. “What got you into old books then?”

“What’s not to like about old books?” Jake grinned, leaning forward and shooting you a wink. “There’s so much magic in them, isn’t there?”

Javy shot him a warning look as you fixed the blond with a blank stare.

“I didn’t know you knew how to read,” you mused, turning back to the stack of books you were cataloging in the computer. Javy let out a booming laugh as the grin on Jake’s face dropped. Mickey snickered as you fought back a smirk at the dumbfounded look on the blond’s face. Jake recovered quickly, the grin easing back onto his face.

“I’m full of surprises, dewdrop,” he winked. You rolled your eyes as you continued with your work, the telltale sound of Maverick’s shoes clacking against the hardwood. He rounded the corner from the back, staring at your small group.

“I need you three to follow me,” he said, gesturing to the boys as he turned back the way he came. You sighed, waving the trio off as they bid you goodbye. It was late, and you doubted they’d make another appearance before the end of your shift. Oftentimes when Maverick came to fetch them, they’d disappear for hours, and sometimes you wouldn’t even see them for days. You thought it odd, initially, but you learned to not question it. You were thankful to have a job with enough hours to keep you busy, and Maverick paid you well for the seemingly inconsequential work that you did around the shop.

Once the three men disappeared beyond the back door, Maverick poked his head back around the doorframe.

“SP?”

“Yes?”

“Why don’t you go on ahead and head home for the night?” He suggested, smiling warmly. “The weather is supposed to get bad here soon, and I don’t like the thought of you being out there in it by yourself. You can go ahead and lock the shop up behind you.”

“Okay, Mav,” you smiled, setting the stack of books to the side as he nodded and once again disappeared behind the door.

You made sure things were closed up the way they needed to be, double checking to make sure that the backdoor was locked before grabbing your coat, scarf, and gloves. You peaked out the window to see that the snow was already starting to fall onto the quiet street outside, and you stopped to admire the stillness that seemed so otherworldly. Winter had always been your favorite time of year. You loved the snow, the laughter, ice skating, and how warm everything felt despite the frigid temperatures. Winter was finally here.

You made sure to tuck your ears beneath your hat, pulling your scarf up around your face as you exited the shop, the bell signaling your departure. With key in hand, you locked the door, giving it a tug to make sure that it was in place before starting the ten minute walk down the street to your home. The frigid air kissed at your cheeks, bringing warmth to the surface as you continued to trek through the heavy falling snow. A chill ran up your spine, and you stopped in your tracks, feeling eyes on you. You whirled around, looking for any sign of life as you stood alone on the street. Most everyone else was at home, snug underneath their blankets or by their fireplaces, and not a soul could be seen from where you were standing. This happened to you often, this feeling of being watched. You had felt it since you were a little girl. Sometimes it wasn’t too bad, like the feeling of a guardian angel watching over you and keeping you safe. But other times, times like this? The feeling was sinister, like whatever it was that was watching you would devour you whole.

You drew your coat tighter around your shivering form, turning back towards the way home. You had gotten good at walking home quickly over the years, but you always wondered if there was a reason for your rush of adrenaline. You hoped you never found out.

Bob followed Tom towards the bookshop, the sign on the front already reading, “sorry, we’re closed!” Bob frowned. He was hoping he could have seen you before you left, but perked up when he remembered that he would see you soon, and this time you would be able to see him.

Tom stopped in front of the wooden door, knocking three times and waiting. A figure appeared from the depths of the shop, walking up to the door and peering out the glass. Tom waited patiently as the man on the other side unlocked the door, opening it with a warm smile.

“Tom,” he greeted, pulling the winter spirit into a hug. Tom chuckled, patting the man on the back.

“Maverick,” he smiled, pulling back and gesturing towards the younger sprite. “This is Bob.”

The man, Maverick, fixed his gaze on Bob, studying him for a moment before smiling.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said with a nod in his direction. He stepped back to allow enough room for the two men to enter. “Come in. The others are already in the back.”

The others? Bob frowned at that, but followed Tom into the building nonetheless. The two waited for Maverick to lock the door behind them before leading them behind the counter and into the back. The three men walked down a flight of stairs that led into a spacious room lined with bookshelves. Three other men stood in the room, their faces lifting at the sight of the joining men. Bob instantly recognized them as fellow sprites, albeit different from him, and his curiosity was piqued as he glanced between Maverick and Tom.

“What? Did you want to collect the whole set, Mav?” the blond joked, eyeing Bob with a wicked grin, green eyes sparkling with mischief. A spring spirit, no doubt. Maverick chuckled as the winter spirits followed him to the center of the room, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.

“Nothing like that, Jake,” he smiled. “Just doing a favor for an old friend, is all.”

“So how do we fit in to this favor?” Chirped the smaller of the three, bouncing from one foot to the other. An autumn sprite, maybe?

“We’re going to do a spell,” Maverick continued, moving over towards the far wall where a desk sat. He picked up one of the heavy tomes, turning around to face the group once again. “A spell that requires ancient magic, and lots of it.”

“And what’s more ancient than the seasons?” Hummed the last of the spirits, his eyes still trained on Bob and Tom. Bob could feel the warmth radiating off of him from across the room. No doubt a summer sprite.

“That’s right,” Maverick smiled, glancing up at the summer sprite. “And as my apprentices, I’ll need your help with it. Yours too, Tom, if you don’t mind.”

The old, winter spirit smiled good-naturedly, watching as Maverick began to place candles around the edges of a chalk circle in the center of the room. Once they were placed to his liking, he turned to Bob, gesturing towards the center of the elaborate design.

“Bob, if you wouldn’t mind standing in the center here.”

Bob did as instructed, eyeing everyone wearily until his eyes landed on Tom. He nodded, giving the young man a reassuring smile that served to put his mind at ease.

“Alright then,” Maverick mumbled, scanning the text of the book in his hand. “I’ll need the rest of you at the cardinal positions.”

The spirits moved to their respective decisions. To the south, summer. To the east, spring. To the west, autumn. And finally, Tom took his position at north, waiting for his friend to continue.

“Bob.”

The winter sprite turned to look at Maverick who had a gentle smile on his face.

“Do you understand what you’re getting into?” He asked, eyes flickering to Tom for the briefest of seconds. “You’ll have until the end of the season to make the spell permanent. That means you have to earn the love of another human. If you don’t, you’ll turn back into your original form permanently. Do you understand?”

Bob nodded firmly, thinking of you. He wanted you to see him, to feel for him what he felt for you. He would show you how much he loved you, and he would convince you to feel the same way.

“From what I’ve heard, it sounds like you already have someone in mind,” the warlock continued. If Bob could blush, he would have, but instead he gave the man a bashful look. “Are you sure you’re willing to risk this?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” he spoke, pushing his shoulders back and puffing his chest out. He was sure about you. Maverick looked at him for another moment before nodding, turning his attention to the other men in the room.

“I need you all to concentrate your magic onto him,” he instructed. The four men nodded, gathering their magic around them. Bob felt a strange hum fill the air as Maverick began to read out the text from the book. It wasn’t in any language Bob had ever heard of, but he was fairly young compared to some of the other sprites. He could feel the energy start to swirl around him as a strange feeling coursed through his veins. It was hard to describe what he was feeling, but Bob likened it to the feeling of melting snow, like warmth coursing through him for the first time in his existence. He felt the air leave him as the energy buzzed louder and louder, Maverick’s chanting growing distant as Bob was forced to his knees. His fingers clutched at the ground as his vision blurred, his head pounding from the force of the magic that encapsulated him. He gasped for breath, blue eyes meeting the wise ones of Tom as they watched him worriedly. Bob closed his eyes as the spell tore apart his very being, stitching him back together into something new. It felt like hours passed, but it had surely only been a few minutes.

Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. An eerie calm filled the room as Maverick collapsed into the chair behind him, the three younger sprites, falling to their own knees. Only Tom stood unaffected, his age and power protecting him from the draining spell. Maverick pulled out a handkerchief to wipe at his sweaty brow, looking much paler than he had minutes before.

“It’s done,” he murmured, closing the tome with a definite thud.

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valiantstarlights · 3 months

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[Loving You is Cherry Pie] How It Started

Featuring doting father Alpha!Hob (43) and his son, recently presented Omega!Dream (20).

Not me looking for something appropriate(?) to post on Father's Day and finding this in my notes. 👀

The title is from the song, "Paparazzi" by Lady Gaga. While it could mean that loving someone sweet is as easy and enjoyable as eating cherry pie, knowing that Lady Gaga is allergic to cherries changes the meaning of the lyric drastically.

CWs: Aside from the dead-dove-ness of the premise, there's also toxic family dynamics (Dream's mother and her side of the family) and all the unfun stuff that goes with it, like verbal abuse, gaslighting, etc.

Important: This is (hopefully) going to be a series of non-linear oneshots. Maybe even a series of 'what if' oneshots. Who knows what I'll do? Certainly not me. 😂 Oh, and because this is an omegaverse fic, it's going to be on AO3 for public consumption. Anyway, Happy Father's Day, everybody! 😉

The Missus

"Talk to your son, Robert."

"And a very good morning to you as well, Nyx. May I ask what happened?"

"I merely requested, very reasonably, I might add, for him to call you 'Father' instead of his childish nickname for you, and he slammed the door in my face and called me a bitch."

"I see nothing wrong with Dream calling me 'Papa,' though?"

"You see nothing wrong with it. But everyone else is telling me how they think Dream is a spoiled, immature--"

"Everyone else, huh?"

"Yes! Look, I'm just concerned because the boy's birthday is coming up, and everyone on my side will be at the party, and--"

"Wait. A party? Nyx, you know Dream hates parties. And--"

"(scoff) That's your argument? 'Dream hates parties?' (laugh) And so what if he does? It's a family tradition--"

"Be reasonable. Dream is going to be presenting on his birthday, and he's overwhelmed enough with crowds. What more when--"

"Destiny is an introvert as well, and he did admirably at his presentation party. And besides, we both know Dream is just being dramatic, so you need to stop encouraging him. He's almost of age, Robert! He needs--"

"You're right. He's almost of age, and I think it's high time for you to start treating him like he's an adult who can make his own decisions. Have you even asked him what he wants to do on his birthday?"

"(scoff) Lock himself up in his dorm room and read his silly books, no doubt."

"So let him do that."

"Not a chance in hell. The party will be good for him. And besides, when was the last time he interacted with the right sort of people? Ever since he started at that no-name university you stupidly let him attend, he has been meeting all the wrong sorts! No wonder his attitude is becoming worse. He should spend more time with his cousins, especially the twins, who always ask when they'll see him next."

"Ha. Right."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Are you kidding? You know Desire and Despair are only asking when they'll see Dream next so they would know when they'd be able to bully him again."

"Bully-- How dare you! The twins are absolute angels!"

"Yeah. Because knocking Dream unconscious and locking him up in a closet in the attic for almost an entire day when he was nine years old is absolute angelic behavior. If I hadn't found him--"

"My god, when are you going to let that go? It's been…what, a decade? And the twins have already apologized. You were there. You saw that Dream has already forgiven them."

"Okay, one, the twins did not apologize. You made Dream apologize to them, and he only did so because you threatened to throw all his books out of the house."

"That is not--"

"No. You know what? I'm not going to argue about this with you anymore. Dream is going to decide what he wants to do for his birthday--"

"He is going to alpha the fuck up and go to his own presentation party that MY family is so graciously throwing for him--"

"--and you can decide whether or not you want to support his decision. Goodbye. (hangs up)"

Dream

"Hey, baby. How are you?"

"…Good."

"Everything okay? How'd you do on your paper? That was due this morning, right?"

"…I am not calling you 'Father,' Papa."

"(sigh) I never said you had to, baby. But you can see where you went wrong, yeah?"

"No."

"You called your mother a bitch."

"She is a bitch. And a hundred other worse things. She's lucky I stopped at bitch."

"Dream."

"Fine. I will apologize to her. For you."

"Good boy. And speaking of, your birthday is coming up."

"I already know what I want."

"If it's hardbound volumes of the complete works of Shakespeare--"

"(laugh) I know you hate him, Papa, so I won't torture you and make you buy things related to him for me."

"Well, that's a relief. Because I was just about to say that I was talking to your mother, and I told her that you're old enough to decide what you want to do for your birthday. So…you know, if you just want to have a pizza party with your closest friends at that gaming cafe you all go to--"

"Oh, Papa, really?"

"I know you hate the Endless's unnecessarily lavish parties, baby. So yeah, really. Consider it an additional birthday gift from me to you. If you want it, that is."

"I…Yes. I would love that. And you will be there as well, right?"

"It's your call, Dream. If you'd rather just celebrate with your friends, I could just pay the gaming cafe in advance and leave you young people--"

"No! I…I would love for you to be there. And you're not that old, Papa. But if you're busy on that day…"

"Me? Busy on my son's birthday? Never gonna happen. I would move heaven and earth and all my meetings so I can share with you all my hard-earned wisdom via dad jokes--"

"Papa--"

"--and now all your friends shall suffer the same fete!"

"Papa!"

"Get it? Fate and fete?"

"…"

"Regretting inviting me yet?"

"…Never. I was just--oh, Jessamy just arrived with our food. Hey, Jess."

"Take-out again?"

"This will be the first time this month. (muffled) Yes, it's Papa."

"Well, just be sure to limit eating take-out meals. I bought you all sorts of kitchen stuff for your dorm so you two could use it for cooking, not for decoration."

"Yes, Papa."

"Don't roll your eyes at me, baby."

"How did you--"

"Ah, hold on. (muffled) Yes, a moment, please. I have to go, baby. But enjoy your dinner and say hi to Jessamy for me."

"Yes, Papa. I'll send you a picture of our food in a bit so you may suffer for your fete joke while you're in your meeting."

"(laugh) Evil. I like it. Well, send away, baby. I'll talk to you later. Love you!"

"I love you too, Papa."

"Hypothetically speaking, if the house is in my name and Nyx barely resides here, can I charge her with trespassing and destruction of property?"

"Jesus Christ. What has the bitch done now?"

"(sighs) Just…we had an argument--"

"Surprise, surprise."

"--and after Dream told her he wouldn't be attending her family's presentation party for him, she has been…"

"A fucking psycho? As usual?"

"Basically."

"How's my cute nephew, anyway?"

"Thriving at university and making friends with equally brilliant people. He was home this weekend, telling me all the updates on his group's DND campaign when Nyx burst in and…well. You know."

"Yeah. And how many times have I told you to divorce her?"

"About as many times as when you pranked me when we were kids. But--"

"No. Dream is almost an adult, and he fucking hates her. There is literally no need for you to suffer her and her crazy family anymore."

"(sigh)"

"You know I'm right."

"You almost always are. So…what, do I need to lawyer up or something?"

"I mean, I already have a list of lawyers for you to choose from, if you're not fucking around anymore."

"(laugh) Hold on to that, then. I'll talk to Dream first and see what he thinks."

"What he-- Hobs, who the hell do you think gave me the list of lawyers?"

"Dream did?"

"…You know, sometimes I wonder if I actually did hit you too hard with that plastic shovel on the head when we were five and you lost all your brain cells that day."

"Alright, that's enough. I think I'm losing more brain cells just by talking to you."

"You can't lose more if you already have none, stupid. But yeah. Think about it. Divorcing Nyx, I mean."

"Been thinking about it more and more, to be honest. But keep that list ready, yeah? Just in case."

"Yep. Bye, Hobs. Tell Dream his favorite aunt says hello to her paleo mushroom bean."

"I still don't fucking understand why you call him that, and why he doesn't mind you calling him that, but yeah, sure. Bye, Jo."

Dream

"Happy birthday, baby! I'll see you in a bit. Just gotta get your super secret birthday gift from my super secret lair--"

"Take your time, Papa. And leave the dad jokes at home, please?"

"Mwahahahaha!"

"…That does not bode well."

Papa

Papa? (Missed call.) (Missed call.) (Missed call.) Papa, please pick up. I need you.

Dream

"Hey, Dream."

"Papa!"

"Dream, I--"

"I'm so sorry, Papa. I suspected, but I didn't really know for sure. I… Do you hate me now?"

"I just need some time to process this. But I'm okay. And no, I don't hate you. This is very much not your fault."

"But…you're not mad at me? I love you."

"…I love you too, baby. I'm just…I needed to breathe for a bit. Sorry for suddenly walking out. How did the rest of the party go?"

"(wet sniffle) It was okay. Matthew ate most of the cake, and I think Lucienne won the most games so she got the chicken dinner crown."

"What do you mean, 'I think?'"

"I wasn't really paying much attention to what was happening after you left. Sorry."

"Oh, baby."

"I just…(quiet sob) I missed my Papa."

"Fuck. I'm so sorry, Dream. I promise I'll make it up to you. We could…I don't know, rewatch your favorite series over an unlimited amount of pizza, or see a Shakespearean play at the Globe Theatre--"

"(wet laugh) But Papa, you hate Shakespeare."

"Yeah, but…I love you more. And I'm willing to put up with that bastard's--ah, hold on. Jo's calling."

"You should take Aunt Jo's call, Papa. I'll be okay."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Jessamy's here. We're rewatching Legally Blonde. Say hi, Jess."

"(muffled) Hi, Mr. G!"

"She says hi."

"Yeah, baby, I heard. So you're sure you're okay over there?"

"Yes, Papa."

"And you don't need anything else? Pizza? Blankets? My secret hot chocolate recipe?"

"No, Papa. All I needed was for you to call me."

"Oh, baby."

"I'm really sorry."

"Dream. You have nothing to be sorry for. And I'm not mad, nor do I hate you. I just…(sigh) It was…and still is, honestly, a bit of a shock. But I will always be your Papa, even if we're not blood-related. Okay?"

"Yes, Papa."

"Alright. I'll talk to you soon."

"Okay. …And Papa?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I still…(deep breath) Am I still welcome to go back home?"

"Of course, baby. You're welcome to come back home any time."

"And…And you promise you don't hate me?"

"I promise. I can never hate you."

"Okay. I love you, Papa."

"…I love you, too, baby."

"Shit. Sorry, Hobs. Jet just landed. Why the fuck were you calling me 27 thousand times? Are you okay? Is Dream okay? What's--"

"Dream isn't my biological son."

"I…What?"

"You heard me. I just found out when he presented as an omega and I reacted to his scent."

"You reacted-- Oh, fuck."

"I had to get the hell away from him as soon as I caught his scent. Calmed myself down a bit. A lot."

"Shit. You're compatible with him?"

"Yes."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Hobs."

"Fucking tell me about it."

"Have you talked to him yet?"

"Yeah. Just now, actually."

"How is he?"

"Worried that I hate him. Or if I'm mad at him. He wanted to know if he could still come home, Jo."

"Why the fuck would you be mad at him or hate him?"

"That's what I thought as well. Because right now? He is the last person on this earth who I will ever be mad at. But that's not what I was calling you about."

"Oh? Dream not being your bio son isn't the reason why you were calling me repeatedly like a fucking lunatic?"

"Yeah. I need you to give me that list of lawyers, Jo."

"Oh, hell yeah. Let's destroy this bitch."

The Missus Nyx Endless

We're over.

Excuse me? (Missed call.) Pick up the phone, Robert. (Missed call.) (Missed call.) (Missed call.) (Missed call.) You're acting like a child. (Missed call.) (Missed call.)

Stop calling me. Can't you read? We're over. Done.

And do I get to know why you're so callously filing to annul our marriage a day after our son's birthday, when he didn't even have the decency to show up to his own presentation party?

Yeah, okay.

Well? Go on.

Imagine this, Nyx. Imagine my shock and mortification when Dream, MY son, presents as an omega, and I, his supposed biological father, react to his scent. You know, in hindsight, I can see why you so desperately want him to present as an alpha. Why, if Dream did the 'proper' thing for once and became the alpha you always wanted him to be, then I would never know of your infidelity. In fact, I seem to remember a couple of nurses remarking that Dream looks healthy for supposedly being born premature. But was he really? Or was he born right on schedule? I mean, did you even pay attention in your required Secondary Gender classes? Because an alpha reacting to an omega's scent means that they're not related by blood to them. So yeah. We're over.

(Missed call.) Look, can you just pick up your phone so we can talk like actual adults instead of you suddenly accusing me of infidelity, as if you're some faultless saint who has never lusted after loose omega whores?

Funny. I'll have my lawyers contact you.

(Missed call.) (Missed call.) (Missed call.) (Missed call.)

Yeah, I'm still not gonna pick up and let you scream and gaslight me like you always do. I can fill in the blanks well enough by myself. All those work trips before our wedding? Not exactly rocket science. All I need from you right now is for you to sign the goddamn documents my lawyers are going to send.

And if I don't?

Gee, I don't know. I mean, it's not like my family owns an entire media company and has a lot of connections. Surely I wouldn't destroy you and your family's image, right? Because you've been such a good wife to me and a good mother to Dream, and you have never, not once, cheated on me with another alpha. Kronos, was it? What? Nothing to say? Fucking thought so.

Bean

"Aunt Jo?"

"Yeah, Bean?"

"Thank you for earlier."

"Nah. I should've fucking decked the cunt years ago. Glad I got to do it now. Seriously, don't mention it. It was my pleasure. How's your cheek?"

"Papa put an ice pack on it as soon as he could. Mother didn't draw blood, but Papa hasn't calmed down yet. He's calling even more people as we speak."

"Good. Keep that ice pack on your cheek. I'm coming over in a bit. Just gotta finish up here. You want anything?"

"Maybe vanilla ice cream for me and fish and chips from Cain and Abel's for Papa?"

"You got it."

CEO of Gadling Corporation Annuls Marriage to Estranged Wife

Robert Gadling, 43, annuls marriage to wife, Nyx Gadling (nee Endless) on grounds of infidelity prior to their marriage. (more on page 6.)

Lucienne

"Hey. I just heard the news. You okay?"

"Yes."

"Dream."

"I'm fine."

"But?"

"I don't like that I have to go by Dream Endless now. But I'm glad I don't have to see anyone from that side of the family anymore. I don't like that people whisper about me everywhere I go. But Papa doesn't hate me and I'm welcome to stay with him for as long as I want. It's a mixed bag, but I actually prefer this to how it was before."

"I mean, obviously. I met your mom once and all I could think of was hitting her with a chair. No offense."

"None taken. I wish you had. That would have definitely made last year's Halloween party more exciting."

"Alas. I was too worried about getting arrested in my Uhura costume. You were dressed as Morticia Addams, right?"

"I was. Mother was supposed to be Morticia, but she claims her costume shrank in the dryer and so foisted the costume on me. She went as the Bride of Frankenstein instead. Something about being the wife of a monster."

"Yikes. Thank god your dad had a late meeting and didn't arrive until after she had passed out from drinking most of the alcohol in the bar."

"...Mm-hmm."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Dream."

"It's nothing, Lucienne. I just remembered I have a paper due on Monday that I have yet to do, what with all the...drama."

"Oh! Yeah, of course. Sorry for suddenly going off on a tangent. I really just wanted to see if you were okay."

"And I appreciate you calling to check up on me. Truly."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll leave you to the tender mercies of your academics then, Dream Gadling."

"Thank you. I much prefer that name over the one I have right now."

Papa

"Hello? Papa?"

"Hey, baby. Is everything alright? It's one in the morning."

"Yes. I'm safe in my dorm. I was just thinking…Can I still call you 'Papa?' Or do you want me to call you something else now?"

"'Papa' is fine, baby. I mean… (pause) Yeah, I think it would be strange if you suddenly called me 'Robert' or something."

"You don't have to sound so disgusted with your own name, Papa. I think 'Robert' is a perfectly lovely name."

"Aww, thank you, Dream. (paper rustling)"

"Are you still working, Papa?"

"Ha. I wish. No, baby, I'm looking through profiles right now."

"Of employees?"

"(sigh) Of omegas."

"Omegas."

"Yep."

"…"

"You there?"

"Why."

"What do you mean, 'why?' For marriage, of course."

"Marriage."

"(sigh) Yes, Dream. Marriage."

"You and Mother just got your marriage annulled barely a fortnight ago."

"Yeah, well, your Papa's not getting any younger, and the Board is breathing down my neck trying to get me to get married again."

"What do they care?"

"Well, baby, it turns out that I don't have an heir yet."

"What do you mean? Am I not your heir? Did you not raise me to run the company competently one day? I'm good at the job, Papa. You know I am."

"You are. And I said the exact same thing to the Board. But they still want me to have a biological child to inherit the company someday. You know. Far into the future."

"So you have to marry again. And have a biological child with your new omega spouse. Children."

"Look, Dream, it's not like I'm having the time of my life right now."

"And me? Am I…Am I expected to just step aside for this new family of yours?"

"Baby, no. You're still my heir. Even the Board acknowledges how brilliant you are. But--"

"But once I have outlived my usefulness, I will be replaced by someone who shares your blood."

"Dream--"

"I'm suddenly feeling drowsy, Papa. Good night. (hangs up)"

"Shit."

Dream

No one will ever be able to take your place, Dream. You are my son, no matter who your biological father is, and I will always love you. (Missed call.) (Missed call.) (Missed call.) Can you please at least let me know if you're safe? I'm getting worried.

I'm safe.

Okay. That's good, baby. Thank you for letting me know.

Jessamy (Dream's roommate)

Jessamy? Is Dream alright?

Hey, Mr. G! I mean, yeah? He's quieter than usual, but he's going to classes and eating and sleeping normally. Is everything okay?

Not sure, actually. Look, can you please keep an eye on him?

Yup, sure thing! Anything in particular you want me to look out for?

Just strange behavior, I suppose. The two of you have been roommates for a couple of years now, so in a way, you know better than I do what to look out for.

Eleanor

"I'm sorry. I don't know what has gotten into him."

"Hey, it's okay. It's totally understandable that he'd be very protective of you."

"It's just… I've never seen him act like that before. He's usually so well-mannered."

"Seriously, Robert, it's fine. Sure, he glared at me the entire night and interrogated me like I'm a criminal, but given what you both have been through, I get it. If I were in his shoes, I would totally do the same thing."

"I don't think you would 'accidentally' spill a glass of red wine over another person's clothes, though."

"Pssh, please. I have 'accidentally' spilled many an alcoholic drink when I was in uni as well. Granted, I spilled them mostly on handsy alphas."

"I'm really sorry."

"And I really don't mind. It's a dress, Robert. I can get it dry cleaned. If anything, Dream has provided me with the perfect excuse to go shopping."

"You don't have to be so understanding about this. He was a right little hellion tonight."

"Trust me, I've dealt with worse. Oh, hold on. (muffled) Oh, thank you, Chris. I just got home."

"Good. Great. I'll see you soon?"

"(laugh) I'll see you during our business lunch on Monday, Robert. And don't worry, it will take more than a glass of 'accidentally' spilled red wine on my dress to scare me off."

"(relieved sigh) Thanks, Eleanor."

"Ellie. You've dabbed enough napkins on my person to call me Eleanor."

"Ellie, then. Good night."

"Good night, Robert."

Dream

"Dream. Care to explain your behavior tonight?"

"Not really."

"Dream."

"Robert."

"…Okay, I'm going to give you time to calm down, but I still expect that explanation from you. And an apology to Eleanor."

"…"

"Dream."

"(hangs up)"

Jessamy (Dream's roommate)

Um, Mr. G? Dream came back yesterday at around 3AM, and he was really hungover this morning. Please don't tell him I told you.

Alright. Thank you, Jessamy.

Dream

"I said no, Corinthian."

"…Corinthian?"

"…Papa."

"Anything you need to tell me, baby?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

"Right."

"…"

"Well, I just called to tell you I won't be home this weekend."

"Understood. I am to let no one in, and all exterior doors must be locked at all times. Should an intruder somehow get past security, I am to hide in the safe room first and call you and/or Aunt Jo second."

"(sigh) Dream…"

"Is there anything else?"

"I miss you."

"…"

"We've barely talked since I started meeting with potential omega partners, and when we do talk, I get the sense that you'd rather do anything else than talk to me. What do I have to do? I feel like I'm suddenly doing everything wrong where you're concerned."

"If I ask you to stop meeting with other omegas, would you do it?"

"Baby…I have to."

"Then there's nothing left to talk about."

"You know you're one of the most, if not THE most important person in my life. I want you to be a part of this decision too. Anyone I choose must also have your approval."

"And if I choose no one?"

"(sigh) Baby…"

"You say I'm important to you. But--"

"Hold on. (muffled) What? Now? Goddammit. (sigh) Listen, baby. I have to go. But I'll call you later, okay? Just before my plane leaves, as always. I hope you answer. I don't like leaving on a plane without talking to you beforehand. You're my good luck charm, you know?"

"Fine. What time shall I expect your call?"

"(muffled) Yes, it's Dream. Just one more second, Ellie. What was that, baby?"

"Nothing. I said I'll pick up when you call. Is that Eleanor?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. We're both attending the same international conference, so I invited her to just fly with me on the jet."

"...I see. I have to go to class now."

"Oh, of course. Sorry for keeping you. Have a good day at school, baby. Love you."

"(hangs up)"

Papa

Ppa help In eed you Ith urts

#dreamling #the sandman #my writing #good job my thumbs #fic: loving you is cherry pie #idk what to call this #oyakodon AU #i guess??#sometimes i think i'm funny

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allthingsobrien · 1 year

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robert threatening/intimidating people is ridiculously sexy

#robert sugden #ryan hawley #ugh #he is so hot #especially when he threatens people #or when he pushes them up against the wall #hot damn #it's so sexy #robert please #step on me #like right now #he is perfection #i love my favourite psycho so much #heart eyes #emmerdale #my gifs #gif set

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seeminglydark · 2 months

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as much as i don’t like how they treat Caro, i’m kinda curious about their parents…

What to say about Robert and Claire Greensboro. Upper middle class, picket fence house. Rob works as an investor, Claire is a Wine Mom (re: functioning alcoholic in this case) and former beauty queen herself. Their marriage is more of an arrangement, Claire wanted a certain type of life, and Robert wanted a beautiful wife. They both desperately wanted a Boy, but ended up with Caroline (the irony here is outrageous.) When they have trouble keeping up with the Jones, and rack up credit card debt and take out a second mortgage on the house, they audition baby Caro for a tv commercial and what do ya know, there's something special about that kid afterall. Turns out that Caro is a winner automatically at so many things. Pageants, auditions, modeling contracts, and it only gets better the older Caro gets. They go from a disappointment to having a purpose, the ticket to funding their parents lifestyle.

Love just isnt on the menu here, but when Caro is young they do everything they can to try and win it. Their parents are both master manipulators, dangling the promise of happiness or love and yanking it out of reach when Caro doesn't do things just right. Its always something.

The only 'good' thing is when Caro gets a bit older. Their dad likes to go on fishing trips with his neighbor, O'Sullivan. And their mom has lovers, and is usually drunk, so it gets easier to sneak out and see Sully and the gang or do the normal things teenagers are supposed to do like hanging out with friends and going to the movies without it having to be earned. Obviously their parents are transphobic and homophobic, and they believe that Caro being trans will ruin their career, thus lose them their cash cow. They threaten many horrible solutions, but in the end, Caro leaves when they find out about a life insurance policy their parents took out on them, dollar signs are more important than their life and they aren't sure how far their parents will go to keep things the way they are.

Caros parent will show up later in life, of course they will, all apologies and offerings of love. Our hero has friends and found family now, fortunately, to support them, and are aware their parents love and acceptance is a thin veil for greed, they never expected Caro to make it this far, and now that they have, of course their parents want back in their life. These people unfortunately will probably never change.

#anon asks #original characters #villians #tw implied mental abuse #Ask RJ #i cant see these people having a redemption arc honestly #of course replies like these are always subjective and may change later but right now I just do not feel like everyone needs a redemption #this is actually probably why caro clung to sully so much and is so clingy now #he always gave them the love and affection they craved #at least there was someone who loved them unconditionally and gave them hugs #i didnt draw them cuz honestly who knows they dont even deserve a design at this point lol

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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Arrival // Robert Floyd

Summary: Your early morning pregnancy cravings turn into more then what you bargained for when you go into labour.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Pregnancy. Birth. Robert Floyd x F!reader. Mickey Garcia x Platonic! F!reader. Inaccurate depiction of birth. Fluff!

Author Note: Hi! Happy Saturday folks! Yes, I’m painfully aware this isn’t what you wanted this weekend. However, it’s what you’re getting. So sit back, relax, and enjoy for once something fluffy as fuck.

It wasn’t all that often that you got a good night's rest this late into your pregnancy. Every night was the same as the last, up and down, side to side, kick here and a pain there. You woke with a hiss as the feeling of what felt like the left side of the rib-cage breaking in half. Your hand imminently came up to caress your stomach, thirty seven weeks along, with no sign of labour in sight.

“Shh—go back to sleep, little one.” You whined as you slowly circled your hand over your swollen belly. As the kicking persisted the realisation set in that you wouldn’t be getting any sleep anytime soon. “Without fail hey?” It was almost a nightly ritual at this point. You’d toss and turn for a few short hours before you’d accept your fate.

As you sat up carefully and ever so slowly so as to not wake your boyfriend, you checked the time on your phone. You were, at the very least— unimpressed at the time staring back at you, 2:30am. A slight moan left your mouth as you rolled over to see the love of your life, Robert Floyd, sleeping soundly next to you. A soft but all consuming smile crept across your face at the sight of him. He was just unapologetically Bob. His soft nature and caring personality was what drew you to him in the first place, and now, in the early hours of the morning, you fell just a little more in love with him with every soft snore that escaped past his slightly parted lips. The love you had for your partner Bob radiated through you like the strongest drug of all. It was so powerful and so consuming that your little bundle of joy that was due earth side any day now felt that love and got a little too excited. A hard kick planted itself into your side.

“Yeah bubba, I know.” You tried to contain the small gasp of pain that threatened to echo out into the quiet of the night as you rubbed your stomach in a sweet soothing motion. “Daddy’s still sleeping, I wish I was too.” You swore if you could see your baby girl right now, she’d be poking her tiny tongue out at you. Every bit the cheeky girl her dad used to be when he was a little boy.

“Ow!” You winced, your little bundle of joy really enjoyed using you as her personal punching bag. “Bub, please stop yeah? It’s not funny anymore, well it never was to begin with, but yeah just cut it out okay?” You spoke to your expected daughter a lot, you’d read somewhere that while in the womb expected children can hear voices and recognise important people like mum and dad. a”let’s go get something to eat before daddy wakes up.” You spoke softly to yourself under your breath as you waddled your way into the kitchen.

At the beginning of your pregnancy, Bob had begun stockpiling the fridge and pantry with weird and wonderful food so you would never go without. You bit your lip as you looked through the plentiful pantry, your eyes fell on the fresh container of peanut butter. Placing it on the counter you opened the fridge, your mouth instantly salivated at the sight of the pickle jar. Specifically dill pickles, specifically the kind Bob's grandma made. There was nothing better than a crisp home-brined pickle and your little girl couldn't agree more as you used the small, strategically placed stepping stool to help yourself up onto the kitchen bench. It wasn’t long at all before you had the lid of the peanut butter off and were dipping the pickles straight into the peanut butter.

Your little girl kicking at your stomach as if to say she was happy with your late-night or rather early morning decision.

“I know, good right?” You giggled to yourself as you dipped another pickle into the peanut butter. It wasn’t long at all before you heard heavy footsteps pattering down the hall from your bedroom. “Opp, it’s the fed's baby girl.” You teased loud enough so that Bob could hear. “Hide the evidence.” A gentle hand landed on your shoulder, massaging the tense muscle softly as you leaned into your boyfriend’s touch.

“What unholy thing are you snacking on this early in the morning baby?” You heard the early morning grumble in a sleepy Robert Floyd’s voice as he wiped his hand over his eyes.

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it, besides—“ you took another bite of the peanut covered pickle. “Your daughter was the one craving it, not me.” Everything you had eaten in the past month had been at the decision of your unborn child. She was picky and very weird. The amount of watermelon you had consumed had to have been a world record and you couldn’t stand the smell of any kind of cooked meat right now. It was later in your pregnancy that your cravings and food aversions really started to hit and hit hard.

Bob moved himself between your legs as they dangled over the edge of the counter-top to rest his hands on your hips.

“Why do you insist on making your mama eat weird food combinations baby? And not to mention she doesn’t like to be woken up at all hours of the morning. She needs her beauty sleep angel, well not that she isn’t beautiful, but you get the point.” Bob babbled as he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your belly. She kicked in response to hearing her daddy's voice. “You know—” Bob smirked as he came back up to leave a kiss on your lips, trailing tender kissing down the left side of your neck. “You look awfully sexy while you’re pregnant, not that you weren’t sexy before, but you have this glow about you that I can't resist.” Bob continued his assault on your neck.

A soft moan left your mouth as your lips parted at the feeling of Bob’s warm lips against your neck. He ran his hands up your oversized shirt which was coincidentally, his, and placed them atop your baby bump.

“I can’t wait to meet our beautiful girl, she’s going to be just as perfect as you, I know it.”

“Mmm, I’m not perfect Bob.” You tried to argue as you bit into the next pickle. Bob chuckled at the sight of you obnoxiously chewing, purposefully exaggerating your facial expressions. It didn’t take him long at all to cave in to the curiosity.

“Okay let me try—“ Bob gestured to the pickle in your hand. “C’mon, give me a bite.” You dipped it into the peanut butter once more and placed it in his awaiting mouth. Bob's face contorted into something of disgust as you chuckled softly. He ran to the sink to spit the pickle out. “Oh god, that’s definitely a flavour combination I’m not keen to try again.” Spitting into the sink, Bob washed his mouth out with the running tap.

You couldn’t control your laughter, tears had begun to form in your eyes. “Oh? you think that's funny, huh? We’ll see who’s laughing in a second.” Bob teased as he sauntered back over to you and started his assault on your body. His fingers moved all over your body sending shivers and Goosebumps all over.

“Robert! Stop it, stop B-Bob!” You laughed out loud through gasps and giggles as he continued tickling you. In the early hours of the morning Bob let out a boisterous laugh. He loved you. Oh so much.

“Who's laughing now huh?”

“Bob, I can’t breathe s-stop p-please—.” As you pleaded with your boyfriend, you felt as if you wet yourself, however, unlike all the other times you have due to your baby girl pressing inconveniently on your bladder, this time felt more intense. The feeling kept going until you saw water dripping down the bench.

“Bob! oh—oh my god, I think, I think my water just broke.” Bob's eyes imminently widened as he stared at you in fear. Like the last nine months hadn’t been building up to this very moment.

“What? You aren’t due for another two weeks?” Worry was prominent in his tone. You could tell he was starting to panic, the thought of him having a life dependent on him starting to set in. You knew you needed to calm Bob before things progressed into something more severe, so you reached out to grab his face with both your hands and rubbed the pads of your thumbs against his cheeks.

“Bob homey, listen to me.” Those ocean blue eyes were truly home to you. “My water just broke— so you need to take me to the hospital yeah? Fanboy and I put an emergency hospital bag together a few weeks ago in case I went into labor while we were out so it's in the back of the Jeep.”

“Oh, okay, i-i'll go wake h-him up.” Bob and Fanbky had lived together off base since they first came back to North Island a few years ago. They’d been friends for as long as you’d known Bob for. “Holy shit—I can’t believe this is act-actually happening.” He stuttered as he lent into your hands, the feeling of you caressing his check comforted him. Of course, you’d go into labor and STILL have to take care of Bob, you were his rock, his entire world, you’d always be there to take care of the love of your life so nothing was different about this situation.

Bob helped you down off the kitchen countertop as a sharp pain radiated throughout your lower abdomen. It took your breath away for a moment. You circled your hand over your stomach and took a deep breath in.

“Ohh— little girl you just had to come tonight didn’t you?”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Mickey? could you maybe drive a little be faster, please?” The contractions had come quickly. Bob was sitting in the back with you, stressed as all hell, rubbing small circles against your lower back as you tried breathing through the pain as best you could. All Mickey did was smile at you through the rear-view mirror.

“Y/n, even when you’re in labour you're still so nice.” Mickey grinned— he was so excited to meet his best friend's first child. His daughter.

“How you feeling bub?” What kind of a stupid question that was, you thought to yourself.

“Umm not good, I just want to get to the ho-hospital.” Tears now traveled down your face. “I’m scared baby, I don’t think I can’t do this.” Your contraction eased, you were thankful for the moment to breathe as you settled back against the backseat.

“Baby, Y/n, listen to me yeah?” Bob held your face softly between his slightly calloused hands, the pads of his thumbs collecting your tears. “You are the strongest person I know, you carried our baby girl for nine months, nine months baby! You can do this and I'll be with you through the whole thing.”

“yeah! so will I!” Mickey tried to lighten the mood, he thought if he could make you laugh you’d feel a little better before yet another contraction washed over you. “Y/n please try not to have a baby on my new seats?” Fanboy joked as he tried to keep you smiling. You knew Mickey was joking the moment he said it. He was such a good support system.

You let out such a loud moan that you were convinced the car next to you at the red light could hear you.

“I’ll try not to Mick b-but I’m n-not going to p-promise you anythi-OH-MY, GOD! Bob, help me.” As you wailed you grabbed onto Bob's forearm and squeezed through your pain. It felt like a million more hours had passed you by before you were finally arriving at the emergency room waiting bay at the Miramar Base Hospital.

“Baby, we’re here okay, as soon as Mickey pulls up i'll help you out.” Bob kissed your temple, sweaty and hot, as you leaned into him already exhausted from the last hour and a half since your water first broke. As Bob hopped out to help you, Mickey ran up to a nurse going inside the hospital. Probably coming back from taking a breath of fresh air.

“Excuse me miss? My best friend's fiancée is in labour, she needs help.” You didn’t even register at first what he called you. You were just Bob's girlfriend, not his fiancée. You couldn’t help but scoff at yourself for thinking too much into what Fanboy had called you while you were literally about to give birth.

“What’s so funny? Bob asked. “You okay babe?” Again, no. No you weren’t okay. But Bob was just doing his best to be the support you needed right now.

“Nothing hun, just excited to meet our little girl who’s currently trying to tear me to shreds right now.” It wasn’t an exaggeration—you felt as if you were about to be split in two.

But it was about to be so worth it.

***~***~***~***~***~***~*

Three hours later:

“AAHHHH, fucking hell can’t she come any faster!” you were in so much pain at this point. You were currently bent over the hospital bed leaning your head on the bars and moving your hips around in a circular motion. Bob was being nothing but supportive, feeding you ice chips every once and a while and rubbing your lower back. He hated seeing you in so much pain. Even if you were a sweaty cracked out mess Robert Floyd still thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“You're doing great baby, I know she’s being stubborn, but she’ll be here soon.” A nervous laugh left your mouth.

“Screw you, Floyd, she’s already just like her dad, stubborn and what feels like big headed!” Bob fed you another ice chip as he ran his finger over your bottom lip as you took it from his hand.

“I’ll let that comment slide considering you're bringing our daughter into the world.” Bib moved your hair over your shoulder to gain access to your neck. His peppered gentle kisses along the side as your latest contraction subsided. Things were progressing smoothly, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

You were glistening with a layer of sweat from your contractions as your body prepared itself for birth. exhausted from the pain, you leaned into Bobs touch, his arms snake their way around your body to support your weight.

“Come on bub lets get you in bed yeah?” Bob moved the covers back and you slid in slowly, almost scared that any movement you made could trigger your next contraction. As Bob was placing the thin blanket over your legs the nurse came in to check on your process.

“You’re about eight centimetres dilated honey, we can start to push at ten so your very close.” You almost didn’t respond. You were far too tired to think as you rolled over onto your left side as another contraction washed over you. Bob noticed you struggling to breathe and placed the oxygen mask they nurse had previously set up for you on.

Bob pushed your hair back and tied it up in a loose ponytail, he was just trying to make you as comfortable as possible. You looked at him. He was so perfect, you couldn’t imagine going through this amount of pain for anyone else. He was your biggest supporter, your best friend, your therapist. You were his soulmate, his biggest Stan, his number one girl. From the moment you met Robert Floyd you instantly gravitated to each other, a wonderful flirtatious friendship which bloomed into a beautiful relationship complete with all its perfect imperfections.

He would stop by the small coffee shop on his way to work every morning and you’d be there, with his order ready to go and made to perfection.

At this point, you were coming close to your three-year anniversary, your gift to Bob? Telling him you were pregnant. The poor guy almost had a heart attack but was ecstatic, to say the least.

You caught yourself reminiscing and focused back on Bob “I love you so much.” You mumbled into the mask. He smiled back at you letting out a chuckle.

“You won’t be saying that in a few moments baby.” Bob was already prepared for the worst. You were always the nicest out of the two of you and that was saying something. You felt your whole body tighten at the feeling of what felt like the most painful contraction yet and that was it, you couldn’t hold in the cry that you let out. It was a guttural scream as you tried to breathe through it the best you could.

Bob’s face filled with heartache as he watched the women he loved unconditionally go through agonising pain, he’d give his life to ease your pain just the slightest bit, yet there was absolutely nothing he could do to help. And it killed him.

“Babe, I’m going to get the nurse okay.” He started to move away but you pulled him back by his arm. “Honey—“

“Don't you dare leave me, Robert Floyd, I n-need you here now.” Your eyes filled with tears as the light layer of sweat turned into dripping beads. Just as Bob turned back to say he’d be right back you felt a sudden urge to push.

“Bob, I need this baby out of me right now! I can’t do this anymore!!” Sobbing, you screamed out in pain just as the nurse ran in.

“Darling I heard you from the reception, do you feel like you need to push? She said as she sat down on the swivel stool and rolled herself in between your legs at the end of the bed.

“YES! YES, I need this fucking thing out of me NOW!” You felt bad for Bob at this point. He was just standing there holding your hand as you endured the most amount of pain he’d ever seen someone go through. He must have pressed the call for help button moments prior as three other nurses ran into the room.

“Okay Y/n on the count of three I want you to push for me, can you do that? Dad, I want you to count down from ten for me out loud okay? Y/n don’t stop pushing till he’s finished counting” you nodded your head. “Okay in three, two, one push Y/n push” Bob held onto your hand a little tighter as he began to count down from ten, you pushed as hard as you could.

“7, 6, 5….”

“BOB COUNT FASTER!” Screaming at the top of your lungs, you continued to push, gripping his hand as tight as you could in the process.

One—alright Y/n stop pushing, have a break, you did so well darling.” The nurse said as she inspected exactly how far along your baby was. You fell back onto the pillow, just to look up at Bob.

“Make. It. stop.” Your breathing weighed heavily on your chest. Bob looked at you with wide eyes. He felt helpless.

“I wish I could baby I’m so sorry, you're doing so well yeah? Just a few more pushes and she’ll be with us forever.” You had to push again, this time wasn’t any easier, but you knew that every second you pushed as hard as you could you would meet your baby girl quicker. That this would be over. That the pain in this moment would be worth it. That the last nine months were entirely worth it.

“I hate you, I hate so much, you did this to me.” You looked at Bob, the love of your life, almost ready to pass out. “You are never coming anywhere near me again after this.” Bob couldn’t have looked more upset. He knew you were in agony though. He knew you were just going through it.

“Don’t worry daddy, she’ll still love you after this, probably even more.” The nurse between your legs chuckled. “I hear it all the time.”

“The hell I will!!!” You interrupted the nurse making her and Bob both laugh. He was so in love with you.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

You were on your final push.

“Okay Y/n final push and your baby girl will be here, are you ready?” Drenched in sweat, completely and utterly exhausted you mumbled up to Bob who had yet to let go of your hand the entire time.

“Just get this thing out of me.” Pushing as hard as you could, a scream erupting from your throat and suddenly, the pain was just……gone. A small cry filled the room and your head hit the pillow, exhausted. A few moments passed and the nurse returned to place the newly wrapped bundle of joy onto your chest, yet to be cleaned of all the blood and gunk from inside you. But oh she was perfect just the way she was.

“Oh, oh hi little one I’m your mama.” Tears of joy streamed from your eyes as you looked at your baby girl for the first time. She was perfect, everything you could have imagined and more.

“She so tiny, hi baby girl, I’m your daddy.” Bob whispered as he gently touched his little girl's tiny head. “Baby, you did so well, I'm so proud of you.” He kissed your forehead in thankfulness. “Thank you so much for giving me the best gift of all, thank you for giving birth to the best little girl in the world.” Bob couldn’t control his tears as he planted another kiss on your forehead. “I love my girls so much.”

“I don’t hate you, I could never hate you.” laughter escaped from both your mouths. “Here, you wanna hold her?” Bon nodded with a gentle smile that had crept across his face. You lifted your baby girl up towards Bob's strong awaiting arms, he held her so close, so gently. Your heart overflowed with happiness. He’d never let anything bad happen to her. Not to his little girl.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Two hours later

After receiving some stitches and getting cleaned up you were happily resting with your newborn on your chest getting precious skin to skin time.

“Y/n are you sure you don’t want me to leave?” At this point it felt like the whole world had seen your vagina, so you didn’t really care if Fanboy had stuck around in the waiting room for updates. Now, he stood by the window, wondering if he was crossing some invisible boundary as you tried your hand at breastfeeding.

“No Micky, I really don’t care, trust me, I’m just happy this little one is here”. Bob had gone to get you three some food, naturally asking Mickey to watch over his girls while he was gone. He was busy giving the rest of the Daggers updates on how you and your newborn were travelling.

“Hey Mick? When we arrived here this morning you said something to the nurse. It was probably an accident and I’m totally over-analyzing the situation, but you referred to me as Bob's Fiancée?” Fanboy spat the water he was drinking from one of those little plastic cups all over the room, completely shocked with the statement. Did he actually? In the whirlwind did he actually let that one slip?

“I uhhh, i-I did? Huh, that’s so weird, I honestly didn’t even notice I did that.” At this point, after having known Mickey Garcia for well over three years, you could read him like the back of your hand, you knew he was lying. But just as you were about to answer back, your baby girl started to cry, wanting to be fed.

“Here, ill leave, give you some privacy” Fanboy thought he was doing you a favour as he begun walking towards the door of your maternity room when you stopped him. You weren’t all that ready to be alone yet. What if something happened?

“Please stay Mick? I really don’t want to be alone and plus Bib would kill you if you went against his wishes and left his girl alone.” The tiny baby latched straight onto your nipple no problem. She was just perfect.

“Okay, but i'll face the window, I feel like a pervert.”

“Then don’t perv then?” Minutes later she was done feeding, You gently gave her a quick burp and asked Mickey if he could put her in her baby bed, so you could at least get a few minutes of sleep. She had after all woken you up at a crisp two thirty in the morning.

“I don’t want to hurt her, are you sure you want me to?”

“Of course I do! you’re her uncle, plus I know that we’re going to need your help a lot so you may as well start practicing now.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

You must have been out for a while, when you woke up, a smiling Robert Floyd was nursing his baby girl. Holding her close as he paced around the room.

“I'll protect you with everything I have darling, you’ll always be loved and cared for. Your mamma was my best girl, my one and only love, I didn’t think I could love another girl as much as I love her but then you came into my life and I'd happily use her as a shield to protect you.” He laughed at his own joke.

Great, the first dad joke and it was only the beginning of your forever of your lives together, you thought to yourself. A tiny cry came from the little human in his arms. “Shhh, shhh don’t wake your mama up darling, she’s been through a lot to get you here to me, she deserves her rest now my sweet, sweet girl.” Bob bounced her as he walked around the room slowly.

“We still have to pick a name for you baby, I like Lily or Sky, we can’t name you Natasha because that would give Aunty Nix too much power, and we don’t want that now do we?” You laughed, startling Bob a little that he jumped a bit.

“Sorry I scared you, but very true. If it means anything I love the name Lily.” Bobs eyes went wide as a smile grew from ear to ear.

“Did we just name our daughter?” Biting into your bottom lip you nodded in agreement. He walked over to you dawning beaming smile. Bob was completely filled with all the love in the universe for his two beautiful girls.

Bob placed Lily down onto your chest and you noticed something odd around her tiny fingers. You took a moment to process what it was. A shiny diamond ring, the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. besides your beautiful daughter.

“Bob?” Was all that fell out of your mouth before your eyes started to well for the seventh hundred time today. He brought his chair up to the side of your bed and rested his hand on the side of your face, caressing your wet check just as you had done to him back at home earlier that morning.

“Y/n will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” Bob had told Fanbky earlier that week he was planning on asking you to marry him. That why in the flurry, Mickey had let it slip.

You knew this day would come, you felt it in your heart. You loved Robert Floyd so fiercely and so tenderly and you knew he loved you just as much.

He reached out gently to place the beautiful engagement ring his grandmother had given him on your finger. And with the happiest of tears with your newborn resting on your chest, you got the chance to say yes.

“Robert Floyd, I thought you’d never ask.”

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