#ive been in bed all day being miserable

[gomzdrawfr]

Hi, i just wanted to let you know sometimes i think about you when I have dimsum <3 you're as cutie as a hargow #dimsum4lyfe

this is the highest possible form of compliment i thank you so much (even tho i technically cant eat hargow HAHA but I'LL TAKE IT I LOVE YOU)

[teobug]

oooh the med switching. is making me want to chew on nails. it is Not Good.

[cosmosluckycharms]

idk if u wanna write this but spider!bat reader x miles? like maybe after atsv they get totgether

Bug Like Angel

Sweet / I thought you wanted to dance

sorry this is so ass im writers block rn and its so late rn im so tired but ive been starving u guys from works sigh uhhh this is not canon to the actual storyline this is a what if

this is so ass sorry its also short cause again writers block is not fun

sorry if this is ooc im so tired

It was 9:19

You were getting ready for your first gala.

A week earlier, Alfred had promised you you'd finally get to spend time with your father.

Better late than never.

As soon as he told you about it, you went ahead and told all of your friends.

Everyone from school and the spider society.

Sure, lately you were starting to give up on Bruce being your father, but there was a tiny part of you that hoped this was what could fix your relationship.

This could be a way to finally connect with your family.

They would all see you as a sibling.

Most people would assume that you would hate galas like most people your age.

And the truth was, you did.

Even though you'd never gone to one, some of the people there would come over to the manor for visits.

You hated how all the stuck-up rich people would always talk about things that didn't interest you.

The way they would poke fun at you over never being acknowledged.

The way that they'd tell you how you looked so much like Bruce.

You shook your head and tried to get rid of the thought.

Tonight would be the night that your father would tell everyone you were his daughter.

He would boast about all your hobbies and achievements.

That everyone would finally get to see you, as Bruce Wayne's daughter, and not just a forgotten Wayne.

You spent the whole week preparing yourself for this day.

You got your nails done by Miles' mom in a way that perfectly matched your dress.

You did your hair so very perfectly, the way Peter B's MJ had taught you.

And your dress was personally done by someone in the spider society who was a fashion designer.

You had some jewelry you borrowed from Pav's aunt.

A pearl bracelet and necklace, along with some earrings.

You were so excited.

You checked the time, it was 9:32.

You had to be ready by 9:35.

Shit.

Why were you always late?

You started speeding up and putting the finishing touches.

By the time you were done, it was 9:36.

You sped down the dark miserable halls and the huge flights of stairs, being careful using the new heels you went and bought with Miles' mom.

Once you got downstairs, you were out of breath.

Once you caught it again, you saw Bruce and Tim already heading out the door.You walked up to Bruce and pulled on his sleeve, confused.

"Why is Tim coming? I thought it was just us?" you tilted your head in confusion.

Tim spoke up "You were taking too long, he decided to take me instead."

You balled up your hands in anger, but managed to calm yourself down "But Alfred told me-"

You got cut by Bruce "I don't have time for this, we're running late."

You flinched at Bruce's sudden cold tone.

A slight feeling of guilt passed through Bruce. "I'm sorry, I forgot. Maybe next time."

They started making their way out the door once again.

Tim made a stupid joke that made Bruce let out a chuckle.

You felt angry tears well up in your eyes as you stood there, frozen, as you watched them both walk away.

You furiously stomped your way back to your room, throwing your fancy purse onto the floor.

You cried at the edge of your bed, which left a stain of makeup on there.

After half an hour of pathetically crying, you sat up.

You should've known.

You should've known how Bruce wouldn't wait for you.

You should've known that he wouldn't care enough to wait for you.

Of course wouldn't, you weren't worthy enough for your father's love.

You would never be.

Bruce's love went to his other children, his sons.

You'd never be equal to them.

The more you thought about it, the more mad you were.

You had to get out of the manor before you got even more pissed.

You put on your web shooters, ignoring how you still had your big gala dress on.

You opened your window and snuck out.

You ignored how someone was most likely gonna see you swinging around without a costume.

You got to a random rooftop and sat down.

You noticed how across the building was the gala, playing loud, classical music.

You started crying once more.

You couldn't tell if it was out of sadness or anger.

Your dress was now slightly ripped and your heels were scuffed.

Your makeup was running down your face and everything was going wrong.

You just wanted to go home.

A familiar buzz and ringtone went off.

You checked your phone and checked the contact.

It was Miles.

Your heart skipped a beat and you fumbled with your phone a bit, quickly clearing your throat and picking up.

"Hello?" you said, a tad bit too excitedly.

"Hey, it's Miles."

"Oh, yeah. right."

An awkward silence passed on both ends.

"Why'd you call? I mean, it's not like I did want you to call; you're cool and all, and I do like you. I mean-! Not like, like like you, I mean like-" you rambled on for a couple more seconds before finally shutting up.

"I got a feeling I had to check up on you," he replied

"I'm fine, great even!" you spoke, obviously not fine.

"You only say that when you're not fine. I'm on my way."

Fuck.

He was on his way and you looked a mess.

You quickly tried your best to clean yourself up.

Sure, Miles wouldn't judge you for your makeup that was running down your face or your ruined dress, but you didn't want him to worry.

You cleaned yourself up as much as you could, which didn't do much.

You felt a familiar tingle in your skull.

You turned around and saw an orange portal.

As soon as Miles walked through, you got excited.

Only for that excitement to fade out to realize you still looked bad.

He looked at you, noticing how you looked like a mess "Y/n? You look like hell."

"Yeah, I just got back." you chuckled.

After yet another moment of awkward silence, you ran and tackled him into a hug, awkwardly.

He spoke up, sitting down "You look upset, what's wrong?"

"Nothing serious." you sat down next to him

"Was it your family?"

"Yeah."

"They're all assholes."

"I know, right?"

"What even happened?"

"Fucking Tim happened." you threw a random pebble at the floor.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Dude, for the last like, week I've been so excited over finally being able to go bond with my father, only to be forgotten again."

"At least you look pretty."

"You're pretty too! I mean, like, Uhm, yeah." you stuttered, face growing warm

You both talked for a while, mostly filled with you both awkwardly flirting like two middle schoolers.

After an hour or two, you could hear the gala's music blasting a romantic slow song.

You both hummed along to the slow song, you didn't notice how Miles looked at you like you were the light of his life.

He got up, making you look at him confused.

He pulled his hand out, and you took it.

You've never been a really good dancer despite being in dance at a young age.

And what made it worse was that you kept fumbling around, accidentally stepping on his shoes every 10 seconds.

Instead of just giving up on you though, he kept going.

After a minute or two, you finally got it. All you could hear was both of your laughter and the loud, slow music blaring from the gala.

Unbeknownst to you, there were a lot of people who could see you and Miles.

Luckily for him, he had his mask on.

Unluckily for you, they saw you dancing with him.

They took a lot of pictures, and you would've known if it wasn't for someone having their flash on their camera.

You can already see the headline for tomorrow's gossip magazines.

"Forgotten Wayne, seen flirting with new vigilante?"

As soon as you both noticed the flash, Miles spoke up.

"I think it's time to get you home."

Before you could protest, he picked you up bridal style and started swinging you back to the manor.

Great, the paparazzi ruined a moment with your stupid crush of a year or two.

He dropped you off at your windowsill, which had always been a blind spot for cameras.

You started turning around to go to bed, only to be turned around and kissed by Miles.

You felt your face heat up.

You both stared at each other in shock.

"Goodnight!" Miles quickly blurted out, rushing away.

You processed what happened and threw yourself onto your bed, giggling and kicking your feet.

You couldn't believe this.

The guy you've liked since you first met him 2 years ago liked you back!

It was like a fairytale dream!

The next morning you got up and ready for the day.

You knew you were most likely going to see your family eating breakfast, which made you feel nauseous with anxiety.

You didn't wanna face them.

Not Alfred.

Not Bruce.

And certainly not Tim.

You didn't understand why Bruce preferred him over you.

You didn't want to get upset all over again, so you pushed away the thought.

All you wanted to think about was the night before.

You felt like a lovesick puppy every time you thought about Miles.

You made your way to get breakfast, still in your pajamas.

You could slowly overhear some of your family's conversation.

You were nosey, so you eavesdropped.

"I just can't find anything about this guy!" you heard Tim saying

Bruce spoke, clearing his voice "Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure!" you could practically see Tim stressing from a mile away. "it's like he's not from here."

You finally got to the kitchen, about to pour some cereal for yourself.

"What did you do?" Tim barked

"Huh?" you looked at him, trying to act dumb

"Last night, 11:47 pm. where were you?" he glared

"Out and about." you tried to act natural

"Be specific."

"wouldnt you like to know weather boy?" you reached for the cereal

"You're being so stubborn." he crossed his arms

"I was in the manor." you lied

He slammed the pictures of you and Miles dancing together.

Shit.

"Hop off my dick," you spoke, angrily.

"And what about these?" Bruce placed down a picture of Miles kissing you, with the bottom of his mask lifted slightly.

A drop of sweat rolled down your face "Uhm.."

"This is dangerous! You can't be doing this. you shouldn't be dating other vigilantes." Bruce took a sip out of his coffee

"you guys do it all the time," you argued

"That's different!" he slammed the coffee mug down.

"How?"

"We know how to take care of ourselves."

"As if I don't?"

You could feel their angry stares on you.

"Listen, I'm fine now. I don't get what the big deal is."

"The big deal is how this is ruining how people see you. How people see all of us." Tim lectured

"That's all you care about? How the public sees us?" you put your hands on your hips

They went quiet for a moment and you spoke up again.

"This wouldn't have happened if you both just let me go to the gala for once," you uttered.

"This is about the gala?" Bruce asked.

"No, it's not about the gala, it's about how I've constantly been treated." You explained, trying to keep your composure "You guys only care when I'm doing something that harms you socially."

Bruce was about to speak up only for you to walk back to your room, still hungry.

"Just let her be," Tim said, looking at the pictures yet again.

He couldn't help but wonder,who was that boy?

im sorry this is so ass omg

no taglist this time bcs this isnt canon

[xoluvx]

hi🥺 love your blog!!

would you consider writing billie x reader sick fic? ive been severely poorly these last few days and need some comfort <3

hi baby. thank you love!! of course, here's a lil blurb. i hope you're feeling better! 💖

"come here," she cooed opening her arms as you whined turning in bed. you'd been completely miserable all day waiting for her to get home. counting the hours between sleep and body aches and sniffles. she pulled the covers up crawling under them. arm wrapping around your shoulders. lips on your head as you protested.

"you're gonna get sick," you whined out of energy, but pushing her head away. she groaned, pushing her head forward insisting she'd be okay. you sighed, secretly loving her persistence knowing you'd miss her all day. you'd thought about being in her arms all day.

"tell me what you need, princess" she whispered kissing your cheek. you felt your body's temperature rise. even in your drowsy state, your insides fluttering at the sound of her soft voice in your ear.

"just you," you replied cheekily. her giggled filled you with warmth as she wrapped both her arms around your body pulling you closer. you snuggled into her chest drowning in the comfortable warmth drifting to sleep.

[arctic-hands]

I bought the books on Humble Bundle not realizing they were v5 (blech), so I'm going to have to acquire some twentieth anniversary editions for a game... IF I HAD FRIENDS TO PLAY WITH

You can make a VTM story with two players right??

[knight-of-flowerss]

I am tooo addicted to Trucker Cregan being a dad, imagining you being really sick with the twins or later on it being a difficult pregnancy and him stepping up more and having to wrangle his crotch goblins as you put them lmaooo and he complains but lowkey bonds with them a ton and misses them more when he has to go back to work (especially gilly but dont tell her brothers)

OMG YESS AWEEE (and I'm loving how people are catching on to calling his kids crotch goblins 😭)

IM SO SORRY THESE ARE TAKING FOREVER TO WRITE IVE BEEN SO NOT MOTIVATED AND I HAVE TO GO INTO HOSPITAL AND STUPID COLLEGE AND LIFE SHIT 😞😞😞 I promise I love y'all these are just so bad they seem like I don't, I'm sorry 😖☹️

Dad!Trucker!Cregan Stark x Pregnant!Reader + Their crotch goblins

MASTERLIST

Cregan was less than happy about the idea of taking care of his kids while you were going through the last painful leg of your pregnancy.

He was miserable to say the least.

So the luck of him getting any action was already nearly out the window, but if he asked nicely you'd probably blow him. But now that he's got these four cock blocks hanging on his every move, yeah, that luck is six feet under.

Gilly loved him but maybe too much, she always wanted to be with daddy and do whatever daddy's doing. He loved her to bits but it was getting old real fast whenever he just wanted to drink a beer in peace.

Rickon was probably the easiest. The shy boy was always either sat next to Cregan on the couch watching whatever 'football' (I'm putting it in quotations 'cause fuck y'all Americans how dare yous call that football. ☹️🫵) show was on, Rickon didn't even like 'football', it was just the only time he got to sit with his daddy without his siblings interfering, or he was sat on the bed next to you and showing you how much he's learned in school and showing off how much he can read and write.

Ned was the most annoying. The little shit wouldn't give him a moments peace. Once, Cregan was kissing Ned's head as he tucked him in and the fucker launched himself up and bit down on his Adam's apple. Yeah, that shit hurt. He can't even go 'yeah, he's a pain in the ass, but I love him'. To Cregan, it's 'He's a pain in the fucking ass and my girlfriend said I have to love him so'.

And Denny. The fucking prick that loves his momma more. He's two, so you can pretty much assume how much Cregan hated that, especially with all the screaming and crying every time Cregan tried to pick him up.

He really didn't want to deal with them. Like, really. But he saw the condition you were in. He knew you couldn't handle them by yourself in the last leg of your already painful pregnancy.

The first few days were.. eventful..

Drawings all over the walls, dirty dishes everywhere, dirty clothes strewn across the kids rooms and toys thrown around throughout the house. Cregan even had drawings in felt pen all over his bare back since he accidentally fell asleep before the kids.

This carried on for a few days until he got used to them, learnt who liked what.

Gilly loved pancakes with honey and lemon juice but no sugar. Rickon waffles slathered in chocolate spread covered in sugar and a various assortment of fruits on top. Ned was the one that decided he wanted to be fancy and his favourite were blueberry pancakes with jelly on top. Denny just ate anything infront of him to be honest.

Gilly loved pink skirts but hated pink dresses. She'd rather have a green dress, weirdly. But no green top. And she adores her yellow, sparkly wellies, she'll wear them wherever she goes with whatever outfit she wears, no matter if it clashes or not.

Rickon, like everyone expects I suppose, loves those sophisticated shorts. You know, the ones that the rich kids wear on Easter with the button up striped blue and white shirt with a navy bow tie and suspenders. Yeah, he'd rock that whole outfit everyday if he could, much to Cregan's dismay.

Ned just wears shorts and whatever shirt you pick for him, the same with Denny, even though he'd shimmy off those shorts halfway through the day.

He learnt that Gilly was scared of thunder, so was Ned, Rickon was scared of rabbits weirdly and Denny was fearless, I think he's yet to develop fear. Wait, no, I guess you could argue he's scared of Cregan but even Cregan himself can't tell if Denny's scared of him or just hates him lmao.

He slowly started to realise why and how people actually love their kids. I mean, how can he not look at them after spending a month and a half with them and think not?

And after the twins were born, it was a plateful. Seriously. Taking care of two demanding newborns and three demanding kids alongside a weird little shy one who just kinda stands in the corner, it was a lot.

And when Cregan had to return back to work after a month since the twins were born, he was sad on the inside. He was going to miss getting jumped on and getting the wind knocked out of him each morning by Ned. Getting stickers placed on him to 'make him more pretty' by Gilly. Getting given evil looks by just existing from Denny. Rickon's side eyes whenever he sits with him, making sure his daddy was still happy and okay that he was there with him. He even missed the two newborns, the two pains in his ass, the two who keep both you and him up at night.

He secretly missed all his kids but he openly missed you, well, openly in front of his kids, never anyone else. He's still a fucking bastard at the end of the day. Your bastard.

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @cryinonthefloor553 @visenyablackwood @velaryyon

[babylacedream]

I'll throw my heart out to the ocean tonight

pairing: merman!rafayel x f!thalassophile reader

warnings: suicidal attempt & ideation, mini panic attack, cancer patient, angsy

summary: recently, you were diagnosed with cancer in your heart that would soon take your life. you have been obsessed with the ocean ever since you were a child, and when all hope was lost, you decided to give your heart out to the ocean.

note: inspired by pinkpantheress unreleased song called ocean. i recommend listening, its a beautiful song.

The beeping sounds of your heart monitor and the occasional sounds of nurses passing by were starting to bother you. Even the stench from your hospital room gave you a headache. The bitter-like smell of chemicals made you feel nauseous.

You started feeling breathless, as your chest pain was too unbearable to handle. Tears streamed down your cheeks. You couldn't scream for help nor rid yourself of this ache.

You tried calming yourself by grounding yourself by looking around your room. Many seashells hung up on the white walls. Pictures of whales, dolphins, and turtles.

The throbbing pain in your heart stopped. You breathed with exhausted exhales and inhaled.

You weaky reached for your phone, playing your playlist you kept especially for moments like these. The sound of the waves of the sea, and the moans of the whales carried you as you soon fell asleep on your hospital bed.

The next day was like every other miserable day in this place, getting chemotherapy, having to join therapy groups, and occasional greetings from doctors who have failed you.

Your parents made sure that you were taken good care of and observed carefully after your recent attempt. Their influence reached even the deadliest parts of your life. The life you wanted control over.

You wanted to see the ocean before your inevitable end. You wanted to give the ocean, the most bruised part of your body that failed you. In hopes, that it would make a beautiful seashell that twinkled and basked under the moonlight and stars.

You would hope that it would live on for years and years to come to preserve the ocean.

"Wishful thinking."

One night when the night seemed too quiet and long, you ripped out the IV out of your inner elbow, and blood dripped down your arm. You placed your feet inside your slippers and changed out of your hospital gown to a pink-laced nightgown. Soon, the blood on your arm would stain your nightgown almost as if foreshadowing your doom.

These past few months, you've studied the nurse's scheduled time off making sure when they left, you timed it on your phone. You were able to easily slip by their suffocating watch.

The automatic doors opened as you reached the door of the hospital entrance. A relieving sigh escaped your lungs as you walked out of the place you called, purgatory.

The night sky was darker than the other nights. You requested beforehand a taxi. As you sat in the back looking out the window reminiscing about your life. You knew you would not have regrets.

Your parents? The one time you've ever asked them for anything, you even begged your parents to release you or see the ocean but they refused, deeming it idiotic and selfish.

But, instead of loving you, they used you to gain pity from their supporters to gain an upper hand as a candidate in their political standings. You left a note on your hospital bed, hoping that this would be your last and final way of getting your revenge against them.

Your friends? They became bored when they realized you lost your parent's favor after being diagnosed with heart cancer. Back then, you cried so much but now all your tears have dried out for those people.

"This is your stop."

The driver called out, slipping you out of your reminiscing. You stepped out of the taxi and closed the door.

You turned around to face the ocean, hearing the sound of the waves crashing felt liberating. As the wind was howling, it made your nightgown and hair move against the winds.

At this point, you were losing a lot of blood but you didn't let that stop you. You took off your slippers as if the sand were holy ground, stumbling in the progress as you stepped on the sand.

Your eyes trickled with tears as adrenaline pumped through your body erasing the throbbing pain in your heart. Your feet reach the cold ocean water, and you let your feet get used to the feeling as your toes shift under the sand.

You let out a breathy puff as you felt tears forming yet again. You weren't in tears for your miserable life but for your pass over to the ocean.

"I'll throw my heart out to the ocean tonight. I hope you'll accept me as I am, bruises and all."

You gloomily softly spoke into the wind before walking deeper into the water. Your nightgown became drenched in water as the waves splashed on you. Your nightgown became heavily engulfed by the water.

Your heartbeat pumped so loudly that the sound of the waves was too low to hear. Irritated, you drove under the water completely submerged under the water.

The water filling your ears felt good, for your heartbeat was silenced. Holding your breath, you swam further. You wanted to rest where not even the filthiest hands could ever reach you.

You ascend to breathe before weakly submerging again. When you were far from land, you ascended again to catch a glimpse of the moon and stars above the sky.

"How peaceful."

You thought the waves would be rough, but it was surprisingly calm. Could this be a sign? A sign that the ocean accepts you as you are?

The calm waters and the oceanic smell of salty air consumed you even more; it felt like something was pulling you in, like the current.

It felt alluring, almost like the deep sea lily that hypnotizes and captivates with a sweet smell to only drown its prey with its venomous blooms.

You were starting to cough up blood and grimace at the feeling; it was affecting your blood vessels and spreading to your lungs. Though you were violently coughing, the oceanic waves receded gently.

You had to hurry; you were running out of time. You swam even further in; the surrounding sea was dyed with bits of your blood. You took one last look at the moon and stars and drove underwater holding your breath.

Gravity usually pulls you up, but gravity seems to keep you down. When you were completely surrounded by nothing but your thoughts. You close your eyes, letting yourself float as you sink even deeper.

'Please, make my heart into a beautiful, pleasing seashell that can live on for days and days to come.'

Your nightgown and hair were floating with you as you descended. You hoped that the waters would carry you to a peaceful place. As water filled your lungs, you struggled underneath the hold death held on you.

You never wanted this, never wanted death, but if death meant ultimate peace, you would surely let it take you.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain merman heard you. You, a poor, sicky human, have been accepted by the Sea God himself.

You heard a siren-like voice sing in an ancient language. It was pleasing to hear. You opened your eyes, hoping to see a whale, but it was hard to see as your vision started getting blurry, but you could see the outline of a fish... or a tail? A merman...

You thought you were only hallucinating; how beautiful to see a merman at your approaching death. You closed your eyes again, letting yourself be consumed by the sea.

You felt a pair of hands cupping your cheeks; you wanted to look, but your eyes felt so heavy. The hands caressed your cheeks almost lovingly. Then, it went to your lips, rubbing them with its thumb. A kiss that felt soft and good gave you the gift of breathing underwater.

But you were still dying.

The hands slowly went to your neck, caressing it, and lowered down to your chest in the direction of your heart. You felt the string of fate mend your heart to perfection.

You opened your eyes to see a merman with dusky purple hair and bluish-pink eyes. The merman had iridescent light blue scales surrounding his skin and fish-like ears that you were sure would sting you if you touched them.

You looked down weakly to see an iridescent light blue tail that looked more beautiful than anything you'd seen in your life. You were sure, the merman was about 8 feet. The attracting tail swayed back and forth as you followed its movements.

The merman smiled, seeing how you gazed at his tail. He gently supported you in his arms, lifting your body and wrapping your legs around his waist. The merman didn't want to be apart from you.

His smooth fingers gently raised your chin to look at him. Then, he grabbed your wrists, placing them around his neck so you would feel more secure in his hold.

"I heard your cry. Oh, weary human." A melodious voice spoke with a lamentable expression cascading his ravishing face.

"I have accepted your heart, as is." The merman looked towards your now healed chest, gone from any scars on your body. It's almost like he knew of your suffering. Your miserable life.

"Now, won't you be my bride, mm?" He waited for your answer as he slowly glided his hand down your leg.

"Won't you be mine?" You were trembling; being affectionately cared for by an oceanic ancient creature was transcending.

You simply gave him a slow and unsure nod as you pulled him in for a hug, hiding your face away from him. You heard chuckling escape the merman.

The merman started rubbing your back in soothing motions. This merman saved your life, took your pain away, and mended it into something beautiful.

"This is your home now."

[zombiigrll]

LONELY ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 1061 ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ angst to fluff, swearing, depressed/traumatized reader, reader is glenn and maggies adoptive child, intended lowercase, the walking dead 7x1 spoilers, death mentions, lack of eating, suicidal thoughts, use of y/n .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ hi! this is my first time writing and posting anything on tumblr so im sorry if its not the best </3 ive never really done oneshots before either so i dont really know what im doing LMAO hope you still enjoy!

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it was supposed to be an easy run. get maggie to the hilltop and get her help, that's all it was supposed to be. but, of course, nothing could ever be that easy. not for you. the last thing you expected to see, however, was your father-figure getting his skull beaten in, and almost having to witness your boyfriend getting his arm chopped off. you were distressed. you couldn't function properly. you had already lost your family once before at the beginning of the outbreak, and all of those same feelings came back after losing glenn. he had been there for you since the start, saving you from dying with your family. and now he was gone and there was nothing you could do.

you had fallen into a deep depression, similar to the one you had before. you locked yourself in your room, not eating, not drinking, occasionally getting up to use the restroom, but other than that, you were bedridden. you hadn't even changed your clothes from that night. the clothes that were stained in glenns blood. hell, even his blood remained dried across your face. you felt as lonely as ever, but at the same time, you knew you weren't. because every single day you heard knocks at your door. it was carl.

"y/n, please. just open the door. i can help you." he desperately spoke from the other side of the door.

you felt like shit for making him continue to come to your door everyday just for you to stubbornly remain in your room, but it felt like nothing mattered anyways. eventually, he'd give up, right? that's what you thought. "go away." you mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. "just open the door. please." he begged again. he understood your struggles. he was aware of why you were acting this way, and he couldn't blame you. he knew how it felt to lose family members and people close to him. unfortunately enough for him, you stayed where you were, not opening the door for him yet again. but after almost a week had passed, he began getting more worried. he begged at your door for you to open it, he tried opening it himself but you had locked the door, blocking it as well so no one could enter. you didn't care. you were isolating yourself, barely sleeping. the only times you slept were when you cried so hard you fell asleep. you felt miserable. you were giving up on everything, hoping one day it'd all just end and you wouldn't have to worry anymore. you wouldn't have to worry about anyone else dying, because you'd be with them. no more funerals, no more fighting for your life... you laid awake on your bed, tears silently falling from your eyes as you stared blankly at your ceiling, those terrible thoughts swirling through your brain. but this night was different. you had opened your window, which carl took as the perfect opportunity. he was tired of not being able to help you due to your stubbornness, so he decided to crawl through your window. *thump!*

you quickly jolted up at the sound, staring at carl who was slowly sitting back up after not-so-gracefully falling into your room. he grabbed his hat and placed it back on top of his head before looking over at you. you stared at him with tears glazing over your eyes, your face scrunching up as you brought a hand to your mouth. "i..." you were speechless. your emotions got the better of you and you began sobbing. he quickly walked over to you, cupping your face with his hands as he looked down at you sympathetically. "don't cry..." he softly spoke, but his eyes quickly noticed the dried blood that was still on your face. "y/n..." "i-i'm s.. sorry." you sobbed, averting your eyes as you crossed your arms around your waist. he shook his head as he softly acknowledged your beat-up appearance, moving your arms from covering your waist as he pulled you in for a big hug. "don't be sorry."

you quickly returned the hug, squeezing him tightly as you sobbed into his chest. he broke from the hug, looking back down at you and your bloodstained clothes. "let's go get you cleaned up, yeah?"

you silently nodded. he helped you stand up and you almost fell over, but he quickly caught you. "...let's get you something to eat, too." ... the two of your were now in the bathroom. he helped you sit down on the seat of the toilet before grabbing a rag, getting it wet before walking back over to you. "this is gonna be really cold." he smiled warmly, slowly bringing the rag up to your face and wiping the blood off. you flinched slightly at the touch. as he's cleaning your face, his face turns a bit perplexed. "why... why didn't you open the door?"

you avert your eyes to the ground as you begin messing with your hands. "i just wanted to be alone, i don't know." carl looks at you with a bit of a somber gaze before continuing to clean you up. "i'm sorry for breaking in. i was worried about you. just... please, don't do that again. if you ever need help, i'm here. you know that, right?" "i know..." you looked up at him. "i didn't want you to see me like this. i..." you began tearing up again as you spoke. he quickly sets the rag down and puts both his hands on your cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears. "i know, i know. it's okay." shortly after, he pulled you in for a quick kiss, his hands remaining on your face as he pulled away. he uses one of his hands to wipe away the stray strands of hair over your face, tucking them behind your ear. "you're so pretty. you know that, right?" he smiled warmly. "i love you." you laughed with a smile, a tear rolling down your cheek. "i love you, too." "let's go get you some new clothes, okay? and some food. i'll make you whatever you want." carl asks, grabbing both your hands. you nod, standing up in sync with him as you followed him back to the room. god, you were so lucky to have him. ─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

[nhescio]

Okay I have a visceral need for a hannigram time travel fic but instead of the typical Will or Hannibal fix-it, the person that time travels back is none other than Frederick fucking Chilton. Like imagine Chilton wallowing around all crispy and stuff after being human torched wondering what he’s done to deserve everything he’s been through. And when he’s finally okay enough to be discharged from the hospital to go home, an anvil falls on him or smth. And as he’s lying there incredulously, he’s like, yknow what? Im not even upset about this. I think Ive suffered enough near death experiences. Please just let this one put me out of my misery. And as his eyes finally drift shut, he hears an alarm blaring in his face. An alarm from his phone. His phone which, when he goes to shut it off, displays an impossible sequence of numbers— the plastic screen shinning with a date from four years past.

So after freaking out and confirming that he is indeed in the past, (and weeping in joy over his unmutilated body) Frederick does the obvious— he packs his bags, pays a visit to the bank, and gets on the next available flight out of the country.

And then his plane crashes and he dies.

But of course he doesn’t die because that seems to be a common theme in Frederick Chilton’s life!

So he’s jolting out of bed again to that same alarm and he tries not to tear his own face off (not that he would ever actually do that cause he knows how easily he could lose that precious face). And (after a few more tries) since this time loop bs isn’t letting him run away, he does the next best thing— phoning the FBI with a tip so that they would investigate Hannibal Lecter and put him behind bars for good. But of course Hannibal somehow finds out and discretely shakes the FBI off his trail while simultaneously sending one of his murderer protégés after Frederick. And so not even a month passes by before Frederick finds himself dying and waking to that infuriating alarm again.

And he keeps going through different loops trying to avoid being “murder tableau of the week”, but failing miserably every time. After dying for what feels like an infinite number of times, he’s realized two main consistencies. Number one, he can’t personally expose Hannibal Lecter as the ripper if he doesn’t want to be gutted, and two, the sooner Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter begin their weird courtship, whether from Frederick’s deliberate meddling or from ripples of unrelated actions, somehow he’s left with much less blood and chaos in the aftermath. In one incredible timeline, Frederick even managed to only sustain one life threatening disembowelment for three years before accidentally making a rude comment about Will Graham’s lack of a social life, thereby leading to a cold death in the Atlantic.

After this revelation, he vows to get Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter to bang each other as soon as possible for the sake of his own self preservation— going through elaborate plans like befriending and recruiting the FBI’s forensics team, or snapping Jack Crawford out of his obliviousness so he’d bluntly give them a nudge, or even once flirting with Will Graham himself to get Hannibal Lecter jealous (note: that attempt did NOT end up well).

And one day, after a shocked text from his “Sassy Science Matchmaking Squad” group chat proclaiming that Hannibal and Will, lovingly dubbed Hannigram by the group, had spontaneously quit their jobs and run away to Europe together, Frederick suddenly realizes he hasn’t been stabbed or burned or maimed or drowned or disemboweled once! He thinks back to his early success in this timeline— silently high fiving with Beverly and Jimmy (Zeller, the spoilsport, had refused to partake) while voyeuristically watching Will and Hannibal shyly having their first kiss in the shadows of a filthy crime scene. In fact, he didn’t think anyone in their immediate circle had been stabbed or burned or maimed or drowned or— well you get the point.

And as one year turns to two to four to eight with no word from Hannibal or Will except the occasional postcard, a sort of cautious optimism starts building in Frederick’s heart. The years continue to fly by until one day, Frederick finds that his hair has turned a snowy white, and that his legs are too weak to support his aching body. He tries to take in a breath to laugh but it comes out as a wheeze. He’s at the end of the line once more, but this time at the end of a healthy, fulfilling life. His only wish is that he’s finally allowed to move on. And as he feels his life slowly drifting away from him, Frederick wonders if he’s accomplished whatever divine mission that godforsaken time loop had wanted him to complete. It really feels like he did the best he could this life, preventing every possible death on the East Coast by sending Hannibal and Will packing early. Sure, he feels bad for the poor suckers in Florence or Paris that were probably flambéed for a pretentiously fancy brunch, but realistically, those two would always leave a body count no matter where they went.

All Frederick wants now is to pass in peace. With a heavy sigh, Frederick willingly closes his eyes one last time, content to move on into whatever lies in the beyond.

And he dies. For real this time. Woohoo!

The End

[stellabk]

FVRY OF THE FIRE

Part IV

Author’s note - Hi! So, I thought I posted part 4 last night after work, and I looked and it was gone. Not just form tumblr, but also my google docs so I had a heart attack. I cried since I had to rewrite it, but this one turned out better than the original in my opinion, so I hope you like it!

Summary - No amount of delaying could push the wedding off any longer. Deianira is forced to marry the tyrant that her father has sent her and her sister to bring down, yet she seems to grow a small soft spot for him.

Warning(s) - blood, violence, a bit of sexual abuse, public displays of affection; of you see any grammar mistakes or missed warnings please let me know!

Deianira’s eyes fluttered open as the sun shone through the curtains that billowed above the balcony. She smiled at the feeling of the sun warming her cheeks and the chill the gentle breeze brought. It would have been a day she would’ve loved to enjoy if it weren’t for the harsh realization that she was to be married today. Her smile faded as it weighed her down, making her groan as she threw her feet from off the side of the plush bed.

“Good morning, your grace. Today is the day!” Aelia entered with a tray of fresh fruits and bread that still steamed from its warmth. Aelia handed her an apple from the tray, smiling at the way her mistress scrunched her nose in distaste at her statement. “I know it’s not ideal, but I’m selfishly glad that you are stuck with me, ma’am.”

”There is no other woman who I enjoy being trapped in a grand palace with.”

Deia had spent all morning with Aelia and a few other maidservants, first getting scrubbed and polished in the bathhouse like a priceless artifact, emerging smelling of apple blossoms and pomegranate. They lined her eyes with kohl, rouged her cheeks a delicate cherry color, glossed her nails, and adorned her with jewels and finery from the top of her head to her toes. She looked like a proper empress now with all of the embellishments, not able to take her eyes off the new mirror that had been brought in while she bathed. The sight of herself made her forget just how miserable she felt only moments ago.

“They will be expecting you at the temple, empress. Come,” Aelia motioned for the future empress to follow as they delicately bounced through the halls, smiling and laughing.

In front of the temple, Deia’s sinking feeling returned as she stood on the other side of the doors, knowing just what awaited her on the other side.

“Lia, dear, how many people would you say are inside?”

”The whole court of important politicians and close friends of the emperors, I’m sure, but do not fret. Just look to your future husband and all shall turn out right.”

’If that doesn’t work, your sister is sure to be close to Caracalla; look at her and she shall erase all tension you feel,” another servant chimed in.

Deia faced the door once more, shimmying her feet further back into her sandals, and took one last deep breath before the door opened before her. The people stood and stared at her in awe, looking as if a true goddess had stepped in their midst. Deia forced her heavy lead feet forward, pushing herself to where Emperor Geta stood waiting for her. He had a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He seemed exhausted. She shook the thought from her head, instead opting for focusing on the floor. She couldn’t look at her sister or she would cry, knowing that there was no escape for either of them.

She grew closer and closer to the end of the aisle, her steps growing heavier with every pace she made. She stopped in front of the two stairs that kept her from Geta, a hand with a ring on every finger outstretching into her line of vision. She looked up to see her future husband smiling at her, and she took the hand, breaking the invisible barrier that kept her from standing at his side.

The officiant stood in front of the both of them, rambling on about the Gods in a monotonous, bland tone that made Deia want to yawn. She glanced at Geta through her peripheral, noticing he no longer smiled and looked like he had been drinking. He smelled as if he’d been drinking too. She turned back to the officiant, bored out of her mind. He continued to drone on, the future empress tuning him out and looking at the grand statue of the God Mars looking down on them, helmet just showing his eyes and spear in his hand. She looked at him wondering why his eyes seemed to be so full of life unlike the other statues she had seen around the palace. A cough broke her concentration on the statue, snapping her attention back to the officiant.

“You may kiss your bride, emperor.”

The two of them faced each other, Geta’s superficial smile returning to his face, as he reached a shaky hand toward her cheek. He leaned in, placing a kiss on her lips ever so gently. He pulled away, releasing a sigh. The crowd cheered for the newlywed couple.

A banquet was held with the same people who were at the ceremony to celebrate the new union and empress, food and the best reserves of wine were laid out on a grand table. Deia walked around without her groom, examining the decoration and getting stopped by a few people to voice their congratulations. She looked toward the center of the table, a rhinoceros head with its meats delicately and morbidly served as if it were a common dish. She shuddered at the sight, swallowing the bile that raised in her throat at the sight. She took deep breaths as she made to exit the banquet hall and look over the railing down at the city below. It was beautiful this time of night, the stars sparkled in the sky as the chatter of men and women of the market packed up their valuables to go back to their homes.

”Lovely, isn’t it?”

Deia startled and turned around quickly, bracing herself on the railing to prevent her fall. Geta chuckled at the reaction as he grew closer and looked out over the city beside her. “I love coming up here when the city looks like this. You can hear every conversation below from here.”

”It is quite nice,” Deia looked at him, her back still resting against the edge of the railing. “Have you come to push me over and tell the court that your young bride has met her untimely demise?”

Geta laughed once again. “I actually came to make sure you were alright. It must have been something quite bad for a bride to leave her own wedding celebration.”

”It was,” she looked at her feet, Geta looking at her now with a twinge of anger that someone could have potentially ruined the party for his empress. “There was a rhinoceros’s head just lying on the table. I thought surely I would become ill.”

Geta let out the loudest, most genuine laugh as his head fell into the palm of his hand, Deia’s tension flying away as she allowed herself to laugh with him. Geta relaxed in the silence, watching as the moonlight made his bride's hair resemble cooling embers. He felt at peace as if all the voices screaming in his head had silences to stand in awe of her as well. His peace was broken as the door opened, a voice growing closer. He didn’t think, it was stupid to pull her in, yet he did. He pushed the sleeve of her shoulder down and sank his teeth in, the other hand flying to her mouth before she could yelp.

”Oh, brother. I didn't mean to interrupt time with your bride… at least defile her in your own chambers instead of the corridors, dog.”

Geta pulled his mouth from Deia’s shoulder, turning to his brother. “I wished for everyone to know she was mine, that is all.”

”Well, they requested you back in the banquet hall. They wish to make a toast soon.”

Caracalla shook his head with a smirk as he returned to the celebration. Geta turned back to his bride, a swift, sturdy hit landed to his gut. He slumped to his knees in slow motion, seeing that Deianira had kicked him, which made him smirk through a grimace.

”If you wanted me to come to my knees, wife, all you had to do was ask.”

She grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head so he could look at her face. “A mark for a mark. To think I almost enjoyed a sliver of time with you. Know this, it shall be the last for as long as I breathe. Goodnight, husband.”

She dropped the hold she had on his hair, storming off toward her room and leaving him alone in the darkened hall. He collected himself off the floor, hearing Caracalla beginning a toast in the hall as he stood against the cold stone wall to listen in, still holding his stomach where it ached. Caracalla quipped that Geta was supposed to make the toast to his bride, but had most likely disappeared to consummate the marriage. The crowd of mostly men had laughed heartily, but Geta felt a pain in his chest. He knew why he had bitten her, but he doubted she would stop to hear him out. Still, he had to try to explain himself. He ran down the hallway that his bride had run down, trying to catch up.

Deia slammed the door to her bedchambers, letting all of her anger explode in a loud scream that echoed through the room and shook nearby objects. She took off rings and threw them on tables, taking one of her sandals off and chucking it at the door. The shoe sailed through the air, and Geta entered, ducking just in time to narrowly evade the hurling sandal.

“Have you come to sink your teeth in again, your highness, or was one lashing not enough for you?”

Geta glanced at the sandal that had slipped through the crack in the door he had just come through, then back at Deianira. “I hope you plan to get that later on.”

Deia growled, taking off the other sandal, ready to throw the second one. Geta held his hands up in surrender. “I came to see if you would hear me out.”

”I will hear nothing from you after your vulgar display. Get out or I swear my aim will ring true with this sandal.”

“You have to be the most stubborn woman of akk I have ever met, have you ever been told that?”

Deia shrugged, still holding the sandal above her head. “Once or twice before. Now leave me to my peace.”

”I don’t think you know the definition of peace. You seem to be of the bloodline of Mars.”

”I knew peace until you and your tyrant brother forced me here. Just because you knew no fatherly love does not mean you had to rip me and my sister from ours!” She got in his face, spittle flying to his cheek. The blow had been delivered, an arrow right through Geta’s chest. He felt as if it were a real attack and that he would crumble in a bloody heap on the floor.

”I shall grant you the peace you want. Goodnight, empress.”

As he left, closing the door behind him, the second sandal was launched, colliding with the door as it closed. The thud shaking Geta to his core.

Geta entered his own bed chambers, his servant behind him.

”Are you sure, emperor? This seems to be quite extreme.”

”Quite sure. If the court were to find out, they would treat her cruelly. We must ensure she stays in good graces. If you tell a soul, you shall be thrown in the Coliseum before first light, understood?”

The man watched the emperor as he sat on the bed with the small knife in his hand, holding the handle out to the servant. The servant nodded, taking the blade, and cut a small incision on the emperor’s thigh. Geta hissed, but bit it back as the crimson flowed and made a small pool on the white bed linens. He nodded, satisfied by the result, as the servant began to cleanse his leg. Though satisfied, Geta only stared into the red stain with a grim expression, his thoughts only echoing one thing: she will be safe now.

[tiny-1karus]

Pairing: yandere!batfam (Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian) x fem!reader

(All the boys are 20+, Damian is around the same age as the reader and they're both in university.)

A tiny little sequel to the Cinderella-esque story, but from the boys perspective. There are multiple parts to this but you can check out the first part here:

Part 1

This is an almost 3k fic, so enjoy!

...

It was the following evening after the inciting but unfortunate incident that had landed you on the medical bay of the Wayne manor. You had been unconscious for most of the night until the late afternoon as your body recovered from the traumatic head injury you had received from your stepmom, only gaining consciousness for barely an hour before immediately falling back asleep. The last night's events, along with your clearly overworked and underfed body, had clearly taken it's toll on you. With the state of your body and your consistent lack of consciousness, they had to attach an IV tube to your arm.

The Wayne brothers, along with their father, had taken turns diligently monitoring you throughout this time after returning in the early dawn from their... Mission.

They could all finally relax as the primary and greatest threat to your well-being was finally taken care of.

They hope they burned in hell.

Your condition, thankfully, wasn't dire, even if it wasn't ideal. All you needed was complete and relative rest until the next 3-4 days, which was slightly overestimated, but none of them were taking any chances on your health. Not when you were still in such a fragile state.

Currently, Dick and Damian were on watch for you. Dick was sitting on a chair to your left while Damian stood next to him like a silent sentry, both of them watching the steady rise and fall of your chest as if to reassure themselves that you were still there with them. Even in sleep, you still had this shadow that seemed to haunt you as your face never seemed to be fully at peace.

Dick was holding on to your hand with a guilty expression, his blue eyes darting to the large square gauze taped to your left cheek. It hid the massive bruise that nearly covered the whole left side of your face. He still couldn't express into words the magnitude of rage that had consumed him when he saw the dark mark on your precious face.

Dick never thought himself a particularly violent person. He tended to use diplomacy as a primary approach when violence is clearly not warranted. As a vigilante, he uses violence as a means to protect, but last night he had used all his strength to harm.

He still couldn't fathom why it had felt so good in that one instance, so he tried not to think about it anymore.

He gently ran his thumb against the back of your hand as his eyes darted to the bandage on your face. He bit his lip as his own face scrunched up into an expression of guilt once again.

Clearly, he was failing at that.

Damian let out an annoyed sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Grayson, I can hear you thinking from here." He stared down at his brother with an unimpressed look, "and clearly, you're doing a poor job at it."

Dick bent his head until his forehead touched the back of your hand. He really wanted to kiss it but his guilty conscience made him think he was unworthy of the action at the moment.

"I dunno Dames, I just feel so... Guilty."

Damian let out a quiet exhale as he considered the miserable, guilt-ridden state of his oldest brother.

A tiny part of him, the part that hurt and raged at all the pain you had endured by your so-called family, felt remorseful that you had gotten injured that night. This piece of him ached at the thought of all the other nights that he wasn't there to protect you from it all, even if he had been unaware of your existence for most of it.

But he would never let anyone know that.

The youngest Wayne laid his hand on Dick's shoulder. He waited until his older brother finally looked up from his hunched over position on your hospital bed. Damian inclined his head towards the door before walking towards it, silently waiting for his brother to follow.

Dick seemed hesitant to leave your side but the impatient gesture that Damian made at the door finally made him follow his youngest brother outside. He closed the door with a faint click, and they both walked towards the observation window on the other side of the medical bay. They settled at the spot that was directly in front of your bed; Dick with his arms hanging loosely at his sides and Damian with his arms crossed over his chest.

You might have been unconscious but they didn't want to take any chances of you hearing this conversation.

Damian surprised his brother by speaking first. "I hope you know that it was done out of necessity. She wouldn't have come to us, where it's infinitely more safe and she has a vast access to superior resources, if this didn't happen." The conviction in his voice brokered no room for doubt or argument. He said this as if it was merely fact and to a degree, it was, but Dick couldn't help the sliver of doubt that persistently niggled at the back of his mind.

Damian hadn't turned to look at his brother as he spoke, his green eyes locked intensely on your sleeping form on the hospital bed. If he had any doubts, which Dick seriously doubted, he gave none of it away. Instead, his jaw seemed to clench a bit before letting out a silent, imperceptible sigh. "Nothing would have changed for her if we hadn't intervened." He pointed out with an unreadable look.

Dick sighed as he looked at you through the glass with a sad expression. He had hoped, however vaguely, that your family wouldn't have stooped that low. That they wouldn't have fallen for the bait.

The only tragedy is that they hadn't suffered more.

When Dick—uncharacteristically—still failed to respond, Damian let out a frustrated noise. Since when did he become the voice of reason for this family? The youngest Wayne pivoted and pinned his older brother with a hard, unyielding look.

"Grayson, I will only say this once. There is no need to feel guilty. It was the optimal way to get her out of that disgusting cesspool and we succeeded." There was a fierce conviction to the youngest Wayne as he said this and even Dick couldn't help but feel a little swayed.

Dick ran both of his hands through his hair aggressively and sighed harshly. "I just wish that she didn't get hurt in the process." We could have prevented it, was what went unsaid but clearly understood between the two brothers.

At this, even Damian didn't have a reply or rebuttal ready. Because it was the same thing that plagued him about this situation. But he consoled  reassured himself that you had survived and were finally in their care, where you were safe (where you belonged).

It had been years since Damian has thought this way, not since he started living with his father and adopted siblings and developed a moral code and conscience of his own, but this is one of those rare instances where the ends undeniably justified the means.

Damian couldn't—wouldn't regret his choice to plant your money box on top of your bed while leaving your door ajar for the filthy vultures to pounce like the mindless, greedy beasts they were. It was their fault for acting on their avarice and they paid for it with their lives.

"I just wish she didn't get hurt."

Damian narrowed his eyes in thought. Truthfully, you weren't supposed to get hurt.

...▼▼▼...

The hours that had led up to the incident had been a hectic whirlwind for everyone as they were neck-deep in the process of busting a criminal network drug-ring operation. The entire team had been investigating this underground operation for weeks and were on the cusp of sweeping this operation into the light.

And this was in the middle of them monitoring the situation in your house. Robin had already planted your moneybox in the open a few days ago and it hadn't even taken 30 minutes for the pests to take the bait. Through the multiple cameras they had set up within your house, it almost amazed the team how none of your step-family seemed to think twice before going on a shopping spree with your hard earned money, extravagantly parading their ill-gotten luxury (Damian scoffed, they called that luxury?) in your house right in front of you. All this, as you still worked hard and let these putrid leeches work you into the ground like a slave. It was only a matter of time before you realized where your money had unfortunately gone. They all waited with baited breaths for the explosive fall out that would ensue and had prepared measures to protect you from it.

But the sudden arrival of a rival gang on one of the warehouses that also acted as a quasi-headquarters for one of the heads of this operation threw a wrench in their plans, and suddenly all hands were needed on deck.

Batman called all of them in and the team entered the warehouse into a room that had turned into a battle ground as men and women fought in a free-for-all. Without hesitation, they all leapt into the fray.

And although the vigilantes had been busy bashing skulls, they still kept an ear out for the little ping! That would alert them of your stepmother's arrival at your house. Since that alert never preceded anything good for you.

Ping!

Red Hood nearly missed it over the sound of his and his enemy's exchange of gunfire but when he finally noticed the alert, he hurried to the nearest stack of crates for cover before pulling up the feed. You were crumpled on the floor with your stepmother nowhere in sight.

Shit, that can't be good.

"RED!" He bellowed.

From across the large warehouse, Red Robin answered. "Already on it!"

Everyone on the comms heard a curse as Red Robin sounded out the custom alert sound they had set for emergencies that pertained to you.

"Guys, we need to wrap this up now. She's running around downtown in the rain alone. She seems erratic and terrified." None of them had to be geniuses (which they were) to guess that something bad had happened in the mere moments they had focused their attention elsewhere.

Batman's gruff and gravelly voice came through the comms in a clear command, "Red Hood, Nightwing, go out and secure her location. We'll finish this."

Robin and Red Robin tightened their holds on their weapons before going back into the fight with renewed and vicious vigor. They had to finish this early so that they can see you. They barely had time to look at your feeds once the fight broke out but they couldn't ignore the foreboding feeling they got when they received your alert.

"We'll be at the house by then, make sure she's safe."

...

Nightwing could barely hide his worry as he frantically changed into the spare civilian clothes he kept in a bag right there in his own car before booking it, with Red Hood hot in his trail in his motorcycle. He already put in your coordinates in the screen on his dashboard, it began tracking the tracking device they had planted on your phone for such emergencies.

He watched as your icon ran through streets without rhyme or reason, and in the rain no less. He bit his lip, you must be terrified.

Red Hood had already taken off his helmet and had shoved it into the underseat storage of his motorcycle before following Nightwing. It was all he needed to do to transition to his 'civilian' attire. He didn't care about the rain that pelted him and soaked his clothes as he drove with the single-minded intent of finding you.

He pulled up a feed on the little monitor on the instrument display of his bike, it showed you from the image quality of street cameras running frantically in the rain. Fuck, what if you got sick?

Nightwing's—now Dick Grayson—voice called to him from the comms they both still wore, "Jay! She's up heading towards the 6th. Intercept her from the other side. I'll wait for you both there."

Jason Todd revved up his bike and broke away from the main street to cut through alleyways to beat you there. He haphazardly parked his bike next to a pile of trashbags and ran out of the dark alley and into the sidewalk. He wasn't all that worried about his bike, the Red Hood symbol emblazoned on it's side should deter most people from even touching it. But if it did get stolen, then he could just as easily replace or track it.

None of that mattered more than finding you, though.

Once he ran up to 6th street, he immediately zeroed in on you. You were standing a few blocks away from him, your clothes looked rumpled and you were positively drenched from the rain. There was a glazed look in your eyes even from this distance and he called your name as he slowly approached.

The way you had reacted to him, sobbing and grasping at him as if he was your lifeline, broke him. And he held you even closer as he let your tears mix with the rain that soaked his shirt.

Even though, he knew he was part of the reason for that.

...

Once you were finally situated at the house with all the Wayne men surrounding you (protecting you), you were quiet and withdrawn. A stark contrast from the bright and warm air that you seemed to bring with you everywhere you go. It had taken some coaxing, but you finally opened up to them about your problems at home for the first time since knowing them. And they all were aware how you tried to sugarcoat it and minimize the worst of your pain and that hurt. (Didn't you trust them?)

And once your injury was brought to light, they were furious.

Once you were being taken care of by Alfred, they pulled up the feed of the time they had missed while they were dealing with the drug-ring bust. They all watched, with surmounting horror, the way your stepmom had ruthlessly beaten you into the ground and had shouted such horrible words at you.

To say that they were infuriated was an understatement. The magnitude of their shared rage could never be encompassed by any measure in the known world.

They were down-right murderous.

How could you have gotten hurt on their watch?

... ∆ ∆ ∆ ...

"Staying there would've only hurt her more." Tim's quiet voice interjected, suddenly appearing on Dick's other side. Damian gave him a passing, acknowledging glance before his green eyes returned to your prone form on the other side of the glass.

Tim had his hands in the pockets of his favorite hoodie as he watched you with a solemn expression. "I don't regret what we did." He stated firmly. "When I was in her shoes, I remember all the pain I went through and always wished that someone would save me."

Dick turned to his brother and slung his arm over his shoulder before bringing him into a side hug. Tim leaned into his brother a little as he joined them in watching over you. Something in him settled as he watched the steady rise and fall of your chest, it was comforting to know that you were here, even if the circumstances that had led to your arrival had been unfortunate. He couldn't help but think about the similarities the both of you shared.

But unlike you, Tim had been lucky enough to have the opportunity to save himself, when he chose to become part of this family of vigilantes and chose to become one himself. He didn't want you to feel alone like he did in his previous life. And now you would never have to feel that way again.

Tim's voice was resolute as he spoke to his oldest brother, "and we saved her, Dick. I can't ever regret that."

Dick reached up to ruffle the already messy hair of his brother. "I know, Timmy." He said softly.

Still, the guilt lingered (as it will for a longer time still, like a jagged pebble inside the shoes of his psyche) as Dick watched your prone form sleeping peacefully on the hospital bed. He had a part to play in your injured state and he could never truly scrub himself of the guilt that came with that.

But you were here now, and you were safe. That was all that mattered to them.

And Dick would rather regret the things he's done rather than leaving you there to suffer by yourself.

...

Does this count as part 3?? Idk, y'all decideee. I just wanted to write a small insight on the boys and a BTS on what happened during that night. Like, isn't it just so juicy how yandere tendencies can clash with a hero's moral code and how it affects and manifests for each member?? Anyways, sorry that Bruce weren't in this part that much ;v;

Lemme know if y'all want more from this, and let me hear your thoughts! Constructive criticism is always welcome with me (whether it's you pointing out a grammatical error or a faulty tense) :>>

I'll start on the first part once I've posted this, I've barely edited this lmaooo. Thank you and enjoy!

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

OMG HI!

Ok so in one of your Pietro headcanons things you said Pietro was a morning person and let me tell you I am most certainly not so can I request Pietro x non morning person reader headcanons 💕💕 I can just imagine him running super fast around her in circles and her just looking at him like 🤨-😐-😞-😴

hiii!! neither am I!! im just a grumpy miserable bitch in the morning😭 that’s very cute! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

NOT A MORNING PERSON HC’S

pietro maximoff x female reader

— I def think he's the annoying kind of early bird, one that's like, "you woke up at 9? ive been awake since.." one of those that sorta shames you for sleeping 'late', but he's not mean about it!! just cocky and irritating (but in a kinda cute way (I put that lightly))

— talking of which, he wakes up at 6 am (or 5) naturally. 7 is him being naughty and lazy 

— in the morning, he religiously goes for a run. doesn't matter the weather, he's out the door by 6:30 

— after the run, he comes back, showers and gets some work done around the house/ flat. maybe does the dishes from last night's dinner like a good little boy (im kidding)

— maybe he makes himself some breakfast, def something VERY healthy with lots of (idek!!? im not a health nut, but like pulses, wholegrains????) maybe eggs, sourdough and a big bowl of porridge with berries and nuts on the side. he's a freak, so he has no butter on the toast and no chocolate in the porridge. he def has a mid-morning lunch too, just bc he's constantly burning so much 

— by 9, he's done everything he needs to do for the day, so he'd go and check on you, seeing you sleeping soundly - probs wanting to wake you up

— he'd whisper your name loudly, maybe prodding you awake. you'd open one eye, giving him a death glare. you'd huff and roll over, sleepily telling him to get lost

— he'd try again, maybe stroking over your back (as you’re now facing away ) you'd grumble, covering your face with a pillow or your arm

— he'd whiz around the other side of the bed, trying to coax you out to start the day he planned. he'd see how tired you are, so he drops it, kissing your forehead and saying how he'll be back in 10 to wake you

— he'd return and see you flat-out asleep, giving you another 20

— when he returns the second time, you're awake, yawning and rubbing sleep from your eyes. he'd say good morning, and tell you look pretty. also calling you a sleepy head or something

— when you're finally up and about, he'd be kinda hyper (not like a kid) but VERY awake whereas you'd be the complete opposite. yawning, grumbling, rubbing eyes all that stuff

—also, he's always telling you that you should wake up earlier bc it's good for you (blah blah I don't wanna hear it) and you tell him the same - how he should wake up later bc it's better for his health. it causes some lighthearted conflict

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

no taglist as don’t want to spam

[ellieslaces]

DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED.

part I ; part II ; part III ; part IV

featuring: prince!leon x princess!reader (royalty au)

synopsis: the Crown Prince, Leon, had never desired to marry, but obviously the decision was never up to him. his mind is slowly, and ultimately changed when he meets you, his betrothed

content warnings: harsh language; mentioned violence; strangers to lovers; mutual pining; little angst; misogynistic themes; eventual smut (more detail in later chapters)

notes: royalty au; Leon is an Italian Prince; user is British/English; some old English dialect; misogynistic themes bc this is based on old views of royal women’s only purpose to bare children; Leon’s family’s palace is based on Palazzo Ducale in Venice

word count: 2.83k

chloe talks: yeah ok, I caved. a royalty au has been on my mind for a little bit and while listening to Dancing With Our Hands Tied by Taylor Swift on the way to my endocrinologist appointment today, I had to write this. this is partially inspired by a bot on c.ai by wesker420 and another royalty au fic on here by @hispg so I don’t take full credit for the idea. but anyways, enjoy

playlist

Leon had never desired to marry, he never believed a happy marriage was in the cards for him. Especially when his mother and father were the only example set for him all his life. He was content with a life of politics — council and war meetings, endless nights spent in local taverns, his bed warmed by women who didn’t mean anything to him. Until he met you.

You were a princess from the North, a born and bred English noblewoman. And you were terribly single and of marrying age. Your country and Leon’s country were in dire need of allies, so naturally you were introduced to each other as betroths.

Of course, this was far from an easy process for either one of you. Leon did not wish to marry at all, and you wished to marry for love, not convenience. This was a damning future for the both of you.

And it only became increasingly worse as your marriage date was pushed closer — a fortnight away now. Your family traveled to Leon’s castle, staying there for the next two weeks. Your family was set to leave the night of the wedding, leaving you completely alone with a man you were forced to spend the rest of your life with and his family.

This arrangement was far from ideal for you. You knew next to nothing of the Crown Prince. And he knew nothing of you either. It was an unfortunate affair — two young nobles who could have anyone or anything now tied down to each other by pressing expectations. It was truly a tragedy.

It became increasingly apparent to Leon that you were miserable in this arrangement the day you arrived a fortnight before the wedding ceremony. He and his family greeted your family in the throne room — much more lavish and beautiful than your own at home — and he could so clearly see how dismayed you were.

Hell, he couldn’t blame you. A young woman, beautiful and intelligent, brought up with the best opportunities available to her was now being sold off as a piece of property. All for peace among nations. Leon supposed he could complain, but he was a man. He wasn’t tied down by the duties of being a wife as you would be. He felt bad for you — even if some small part of him resented you for this sickening arrangement.

Soon enough, you were carted off to your chambers where you would reside until the night of the wedding ceremony. Your mother tried her best to console you, saying it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. It was futile though, you were set to be miserable. To be resentful of how your parents could sell you off to the highest bidder for a bit of political gain.

Though, the palace grounds were beautiful. High ceilings covered in extravagant artwork, glass windows, the grand canal right outside the Eastern side of the palace. There was much to explore in the two weeks you’d spend there — or the rest of your life.

You spent the first week of your stay exploring the castle. Looking at the array of artwork, the different rooms. You did this mostly alone, your mother would occasionally join when she was not required to sit through perilously long political meetings. When she was not able to join you, your handmaiden — and best companion — Maria, would walk with you.

Always a few paces behind to keep up appropriate appearances. Though, Maira more than often would end up walking beside you.

In fact, it was three days after your initial arrival that Leon saw you for the first time, alone. You had decided to take advantage of the pleasant Italian spring day and explore the West gardens. Maria was walking beside you grinning, hands folded in front of her as she informed you of the latest gossip among the grand palace’s servants.

That was also the first time Leon had ever heard you laugh. You had a gloved hand covering your mouth, the sudden sound of your lilting laughter causing him to immediately stand as you rounded a corner of the hedges.

Leon has simply come outside to study a leather bound book of political speeches his father had written, sitting on the bench to also enjoy the weather. At the sudden sight of the prince, Maria stopped in her tracks, eyes wide and bent at the waist in a bow.

Maria’s sudden prostrate position caused you to pause as well, dropping your hand and looking up at the prince — your betrothed.

You as well, curtsied, face ground-ward as your smile fell in an instant. “Your highness.”

Leon almost smiled then, at the sight of your sudden respect and change of attitude. He bowed his own head as you straightened, offering the same sign of respect. “Princess. I hope you are enjoying the grounds.”

“Yes, your highness, I am. Thank you.” You nodded, your eyes hesitant to look in his direction. It didn’t go amiss to Leon that your cheeks had been painted in a pink tint as well.

“Good,” he nodded, at a loss for what else to say. His eyes darted to Maria, your handmaiden who had righted herself and taken a few steps back. He nodded to her as well, offering a kind smile.

This was the first time you’d felt any form of warmth for the prince. His subtle kindness to your handmaiden, whom any other noble would dutifully ignore. It brought a small smile to your lips, eyes finally meeting his as he looked at you.

“What are you reading?” You questioned, eyes flicking to the leather bound book in Leon’s hands. An awkward attempt to be polite.

“Just some political notes my father wrote up for me to review. He has been pushing me to be more involved as of late, my future quickly approaching as he likes to say.” Leon’s head tilted to the side, motioning to the book.

To his surprise, your interest had seemed to pique. “Anything interesting?” You asked, voice soft yet filled with an element of excitement. A princess interested in politics was not something the prince had ever come across.

“Not particularly, just some civilian requests and meeting reviews.” He shrugged, seeming bored. However, you seemed anything but.

“I see.” You stepped forward a bit, seeming to be a bit hesitant but foraging on nonetheless. “I do hope I am not being forward, but, I wonder if you would mind informing me of anything you hear in the meetings.”

Leon frowned at this. “You are not invited to meetings?” He didn’t realize you may not have a place in the political side of royalty.

You shook your head, a small look of annoyance gracing over your gentle features. “No, my father says it isn’t a princess’ place. He believes I am far too delicate for such heavy matters.”

Leon could tell how much it annoyed you, despite the fact that you never explicitly said it did. He frowned, nodding to himself.

He looked back up at you — his lips pulled into a devastating smirk that nearly took your breath away. “Well, princess, you have my word. I will inform you of anything I hear from future meetings.”

You hadn’t expected him to actually agree. Most men would have said you were being silly and had no need to hear such trivial matters. It made that prior spark of warmth blossom into a small flame in your chest.

He was kind. Not just handsome — horribly so, which you and Maria agreed upon — but he had a good heart. No matter his seemingly rough exterior, you could see the prince meant well.

“Well, thank you, your highness. I deeply appreciate it.” You smiled, that pink tint on your cheeks ever present as the prince stepped forward to you.

“Of course, princess. If there is anything I can do to make your stay any more pleasant, please do let me know. We are going to be married, are we not?” He offered with a half smirk, bowing his head again.

“Thank you, your highness.” Your own lips pulled into a small smile as Leon gently gripped your gloved hand, pressing his lips to the back of it with a whisper of a kiss. He smiled again, dropping your hand and walking away, through the hedges of the gardens.

He was kind, you’d somewhat expected that, but you hadn’t expected him to be so romantic. At least, that’s how you would put it. You’d met your fair share of suitors, each appealing in their own way. But none had ever offered you the kindness or grace Leon had. It was dizzying.

And those dizzying thoughts plagued you always. The kindness in his eyes, his devastating smirk, his gentle voice — it all stayed in your mind. Never leaving you a moment to breathe. Maybe, he wasn’t so bad. It was entirely possible that you wouldn’t be miserable here. However, you decided to make that decision upon whether or not Leon kept his promise.

And to your surprise, he had. Two days later, you awoke in the late morning to a small stack of parchment on your nightstand. The top sheet displaying your name in what could only be Leon’s swirling handwriting.

You’d laid in bed for two hours that morning to read through the notes of every meeting for the past week that you’d been there, missing breakfast. It wasn’t in Leon’s hand script, but in a neater script. The official royal note taker, you assumed. But it was all so interesting.

Never had you been informed of any such political activity before, unless it was pressing or dangerous. It was a refreshing feeling to be informed. To know things like anyone else.

You’d read over the papers, soaking in each word until your eyes hurt. Until you committed each event listed and discussed to memory. In sudden realization of how kind the act truly was, you racked your brain for a way to thank Leon. It was possible he could be punished for this, you didn’t know exactly how confidential this information was.

It wasn’t until dinner the following night after you’d received the papers that you saw the prince again. You had been seated beside him for the first time — probably due to visiting political figures. It was quiet between the two of you, a bit awkward, because what were you supposed to say? The men were all conversing about the situation in the West, Leon looking bored and not caring much to weigh in. So you took your chance.

“I wanted to thank you for the notes.” You spoke up, quiet as only Leon could hear you as you pushed the food on your plate around.

The prince paused, his glass raised to his lips as he sipped the maroon wine. “I trust you enjoyed them?”

“Very much. Thank you, it means a lot to me you did that.” You looked at Leon as he set his wine glass down, offering him a smile to display how much you truly did appreciate the kindness.

“Of course, princess. I am just glad to offer you some solace here. Whether it be politics or roses.” He joked, blue eyes glimmering in the bright candlelit dining hall.

You set down your fork, sipping from your own glass before looking at him again. “I do hope I did not get you into any trouble.”

“No. And even if you did, it would be worth it. So long as you are happy here.” Again, the prince’s kindness was overwhelming. You smiled, cheeks tinged pink again.

“You flush a lot. Is this normal for you, or is it just me?” The prince questioned with a teasing lilt.

A small laugh fell from your lips, shaking your head. “I am afraid it is just you.” You nodded to him, head tilted to the side.

The prince offered you another smile, sipping from his glass before his father began to speak to him, in a way forcing him to engage in conversation. For the first time in your life, you could listen to a discussion of political issues and know what was happening. And it was all thanks to a kind prince.

You sat through the dinner, a small smile taking permanent residence on your pink lips. Eyes sparkling with quiet knowledge.

It was then Leon realized he liked your smile. And it was then you realized you could fall in love with Leon.

2023 ellieslaces please do not repost, rewrite, translate, or submit my work to AI or any other platform. please support your creators by reblogging, liking, and following!

how you can support Palestine! 🇵🇸

[leafostuff]

Eyes On me [Ft. IVE's Liz]

Tags: panic attacks comfort, fluff, girlfriend!Liz

Author's note: It's been a while since I wrote for IVE, but I hope this one will do well. Plus, this will be a callback to my wattpad Era, where I used to do more comfort fics.

========================

there are three kinds of nights in your life.

The first kind is the normal nights, which after hitting the gym, eating dinner, taking a shower, and living overall like a functioning member of society you find yourself falling asleep at 11 PM, maybe 12 AM if you are really not that tired.

The second kind is the nights where you decide to laugh at the concept of sleep, channel your inner shut in and play video games for the whole night, or just goof off with your friends on discord until the sun rises

However, sometimes you have those nights where you find yourself in your bathroom at 3 AM, throwing up all of the food you ate in the entire day and overall being miserable?

Unfortunately, tonight was the third kind of night.

Do you have any idea how you got to this situation? Nope, all you could remember is that around 1 AM, you could only feel your stomach hurting like crazy, your anxiety levels going to the 11 forcing you to go to the bathroom to try and calm yourself

However, even after an hour this was to no avail since still you found yourself throwing up while your eyes were full of tears. "Absolutely fantastic, now the one thing that can fuck me up is-" your thoughts were suddenly stopped by a light touch on your shoulder

As you look up you find your girlfriend Kim Jiwon looking at you, she was wearing a white sweatshirt, which was probably stolen from your closet.

Long black hair just like the night sky and eyes that could show sadness was the only thing you could see from your fully teared eyes as your girlfriend kneeled down before you, letting her arms wrap around your body.

"Another anxiety attack?" She asked since those events were not new to your girlfriend, at least once a month she had to stay up all night with you to try and relax you, to the point it was impressive how she still wanted to stay with you

5 minutes of brushing your teeth and a spare change of pajamas later you walked toward your shared bed with Jiwon as she looked at you with a weak smile, but it was enough to make you feel happy and in the same time: somehow guilty

"Do you know what happened that you are feeling like that?" You simply shook your head in response as she just sighed, "Oh well, it's OK... let's just go to the bed ok? After you brush your teeth" she added, trying to close her nose to block the scent of the puke.

"I don't deserve you." That was the first thing you said while you inched slowly toward Jiwon as she laid her head on your shoulder.

"Ahhhh, so that is what you are anxious about?" She asked while she turned on the TV to a random episode of friends. You could only nod as your girlfriend pulled you into an embrace

"I just..." You hesitated, which in reaction Liz leaned and kissed your forehead. Even after numerous times, she has done that it still surprises you

"Just what?" she asked, he eyes pleading for an answer as you couldn't handle it anymore

"That I am too anxious for you" her reaction could only be puzzled as she tilted her head sideways, letting you explain

"You just... deserve someone who isn't depressed all the time or a scar-" You were shutted by your girlfriend's lips on yours, their sweet taste however was short.

"I. Will. Always. Love. You, " Liz said, each word was spoken clearly as your cheeks turned red from embarrassment. However, as you tried to turn away, both her palms on your cheeks, forcing you to look at her pleading eyes.

"Eyes On me okay baby? I will always love you, say it" she requests as you have no choice but to sigh and comply

"I will always love you" you recited her words as she smiled cutely and pecked your lips.

"Good, now... let's go sleep okay, baby?" She asked, however, as her hands went over to your back she could feel you shake.

"...you are still stressed, right? It's ok, let me help you relax, " she said as her hands reached to your back under your shirt, her fingers lightly tapping on your back, causing you to instinctively let your head find its rest on her chest.

You slowly start to destress yourself by taking deep breaths, "Good baby...I'm here for you," she said while pecking your forehead, "you need this sleep...more than me" she added as you finally close your eyes, the first snore is able to be heard from your unconscious self.

And the last words you manage to hear before fully drifting into dreams.

========================

[taylor-titmouse]

kink that doesn't say it's kink

i never thought id have a full blog post in me about writing but ive been rotating this in my head for days and finally think i can put my thoughts down. obv this is all subjective and only relative to me, it's not a screed about how you should write. it's more a look into my thinking.

for the past like, two weeks, i've been trying to come up with a story that fit the title "bred and breakfast" and coming up miserably blank. because hard as i try i couldn't find my way into a story that was a) about a bed and breakfast b) involved breeding kink in the way i want to do it and c) did not look at the camera and go "today we're writing about someone engaging in breeding kink!"* and issue C is what i'm gonna talk about.

for me, the purpose of writing smut, particularly genre smut that isn't just two people in the regular world having sex, is to present a reader with a fantasy situation where their kink is a natural consequence of the narrative. a situation where the fantasy is not an imagined fantasy for the characters, but a lived reality. obviously there are exceptions and ways to work a character having a relevant kink into the narrative (ex: the xenosexuality conference, brilliant's explicit kink for being an object of curiosity feeding into her situation as an object of curiosity to a bunch of horny aliens), but generally i want my stories to be about sexy things happening without premeditation or the characters pointing out that the situation is constructed.

it's the difference between a story about a bdsm couple tying the sub to a wall and pretending he's a prisoner in a dungeon getting whipped and getting off on it, and a story about a sexy criminal being tied to a dungeon wall and getting whipped and getting off on it. they are ultimately the same thing. guy gets whipped and gets a boner. the latter just does away with the tools of constructing the fantasy (negotiating, safewords, aftercare) and serves you the fantasy direct as part of a larger narrative you can care about. why is the prisoner there? what is his relationship to the whipper that makes this erotic? what happens to him after they fuck? his answers to those questions are more interesting to me than the bdsm sub's.

but as i said, this is all highly subjective. maybe the bdsm couple is more your speed and that's fine. but nothing pulls me out of a narrative like a story going "we're going to do bdsm now!" if bdsm and the fact it Is bdsm are not vital to the narrative. i do not want the strapping stablehand to explain safewords to his master he's about to spank in a barn. just spank him without asking, because he doesn't respect you. spank him til he bleats like a sheep and understands how hard you work to take care of his lordship's horses. spank him because it's what he deserves, not because we're engaging in spanking kink.

and the challenge for me now is figuring out a convincing way to get a character on a breeding bench at a bed and breakfast without them going "i would like french toast and to be put on a breeding bench for big cow men to fuck please" because while that might be funny, and might be sexy, it doesn't make for a very compelling narrative.

*and i don't want help figuring it out. i'll get there on my own

[gomzdrawfr]

To be on theme, how do your OCs deal with being sick? Since your art shows Raven pretends she isn't, has she gotten better about it? How was it when she was younger? Same question for the others!

Hope you were able to get a bit of rest, Gomz. <3

thank you! yes I did had a good night rest. Sadness ahead!

Raven

Raven gets sick a little more often than the average person, though it's usually minor. Growing up in a strict environment, she was taught to see illness as a sign of weakness or like, an inconvenience, so she forces herself to push through all the time. Swallow the pills and get a move on. When it’s something more serious, though, she gets extremely grumpy and irritable because she hates being forced to rest (can't handle a break for the life of her). But once the fight drains out of her and the fever really kicks in, she becomes downright miserable. She's the kind that gets clingy and sad when she's weak and mushy, like a little girl with a fever except no one's there to dote on her. So when Price took care of her properly for the first time (the whole fluffy warm blanket, checking in on her, soup business and all) she was so overwhelmed she cried multiple time haha xD I think now she's still stubborn when it comes to getting sick, but she won't deny help since.

Jelly

The sleepy quiet type, loves bundling herself under the blankets, barely peeking out and mumbling in a small voice. The only thing that might irritate her (besides sore throats and well the sickness itself) is her hair gets dried up or oily during the rest period, and nursing them back is a pain. She's quite uh what's the word, putty? when she's sick? Ghost would bring tea and medicine and she takes it without a fuss, if he tucks her in and says a few stern words she'll just nod and listen and stay put haha xD

Fish

Listen, he's already not the biggest fan of living and existing, so getting sick and feeling like garbage on top of that? Yepppp no. He's gonna be a cranky old man. Being a medic himself, he knows exactly what he’s dealing with, knows what to take, what to do. Pop some pills, sip on whatever’s closest (probably coffee, which just makes things worse), and keep pushing through until his body quite literally forces him to stop. When that happens, he’ll begrudgingly crawl into bed and stare at the ceiling like he’s contemplating this is it, take me away (it's not, he's being dramatic). He absolutely hates it if people notice he’s sick and start asking questions. One glare from him, and they’ll wish they never did. He doesn’t want sympathy, doesn’t want help. When he was younger, he was probably like Raven, seeing sickness as just another inconvenience to ignore. But deep down, the real reason why he hates being sick is because it makes him remember. When the fever gets bad, when his vision is hazy, when his head feels too heavy, the memories come rushing back. The feel of his wife's hand on his forehead, the way she used to fuss over him.

He really missed her, terribly so. When the sickness gets bad enough that his mind gets all foggy and wooshy, he gets emotional about it, long for things that are far gone, long for a past he cant get back.

B6

To him, sickness is just another day. He's been in and out of hospitals since he was young, has came to recognize the smell of antiseptic, the pinch of the needle when being inserted with an IV, the low thrum of medical machines. They're part of life, he doesn't make a big deal out of getting sick because it's expected. It's a routine. Fever? okay he'll take this and this and rest. He'll answer the long list of questions the doctors and nurses would ask after getting his medical records, already had them memorized. Again like Fish, he dislikes the way some people look at him, pitying, concerned, like he's dying (he is, isn't it? slowly). But he does let himself be cared for. There are times though, when the pain is a bit too much, when exhaustion sinks deeper into his bone, when even breathing feels laboured, he wishes he was normal. Wonder what it would be like to live without this weight of something slowly killing him on the inside, without being surrounded by the constant familiarity of sickness.

But there's no point in thinking about it, the thought comes and go just as quickly, he'll close his eyes and let the moment pass and reminds himself that this is just life. His life.