#there's actually no time loop in this one
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Two Babies (dad!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader)
Word Count: 5.4k
Warnings: angst, mentions of smut, pregnancy
Summary: Y/N is pregnant again before she’s ready.
Author's Note: Hello! Please enjoy my first Rafe one shot. I would love to expand on this couple so if you have any requests or any blurbs you'd like me to explore, please send me a message! As always, likes and reblogs are much appreciated - it helps more than you know. Happy reading :)
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite tiny human,” the pediatrician chimed as she kicked the door to the small examination room shut with her sneaker.
“You must say that to all of the parents that you see,” Y/N blushed, unable to hide the smile that tugged on the corners of her lips.
“I do, but this is one of the rare times when I actually mean it. Those blonde curls! Are you freakin' kidding me?”
She padded over to the miniature exam table to get a better look at the infant that was lying contently on her back and chewing on her pudgy albeit still tiny fingers.
“Let’s take a look at how you’re doing, sweet pea.”
The doctor, Melanie, lifted the stethoscope that was looped around her neck and placed it into her ears. Listening to the baby’s heartbeat to check for any abnormalities, she couldn’t help but give a sympathetic frown when the tiny girl under her tensed up from the cool touch of the metal.
“Nurse’s notes say she’s put on quite a bit. She’s finally caught up to her age group in weight. I’m assuming breastfeeding is going better for you both now?”
Melanie lovingly squeezed the extra chub around the baby girl's thighs.
“Yeah. We don’t really use bottles anymore. Finally got her to latch on and now it seems like all she wants to do it eat,” Y/N chuckled.
“Good! That’s good. There’s nothing wrong with formula like we talked about, so don't overexert yourself if becomes too demanding. Breastfeeding is cheaper though," Melanie chucked, though in her head she was kicking herself. As if this family is in any need to save money. "Is she hitting the milestones? Rolling over? Propping her head up? Babbling a bit?” she continued.
“Babbling, definitely. She keeps us up sometimes because we can hear her talking to herself through the monitor at night,” Y/N poked her tongue out at her daughter in an attempt to get her to smile.
“Having a bit of trouble propping herself up though. She can only do it for a little bit and then she’ll give up. She’s got Rafe's big head, so I’m sure it’s a bit of a struggle.”
Melanie laughed loudly at the mention of her patient’s father, admiring Y/N's wittiness even in the absence of her husband. Given the reputation of the Cameron family, others might think the couple were all work and no play, but Melanie had the privilege of getting to know them behind closed doors. While they took doctor's visits seriously, always paying close attention to what the doctors and nurses had to say regarding the health of their firstborn, her experience with the Cameron's changed her outlook completely. Y/N and Rafe were warm, welcoming, and quite funny sometimes - always making jests at each other or sharing little tid-bits of what their life is like at home. She wished everyone could see them this way. Melanie really wasn't lying when she doted on the little girl, they were the best.
“She’ll get to it eventually. All babies are different. She seems to be coming along quite nicely, though. Nothing abnormal or anything to fuss about. A perfectly healthy six-month-old in my book.”
Y/N sighed in relief, though she knew there was nothing to worry over to begin with.
“How’s mum doing? You taking care of yourself, too? You’re just as important as baby.”
“When I can. Rafe's really good with her. He’ll take over when he sees me struggling, but it seems like she only wants me these days. Think I might be coming down with something, though. I’ve been feeling awful for a few weeks. Like I got hit by a train. I keep reminding myself to go get checked out, but I always get distracted taking care of her,” Y/N gestured to her daughter that was now drooling onto the parchment liner and staring up at the ceiling as if there was something ornately interesting about the popcorn texture that had been stippled onto it.
“When you say, ‘hit by a train,’ what do you mean? I can examine you here if you’d like. As long as it’s nothing serious, I can send you something off to the pharmacy.”
Melanie re-fastened the snaps on the infant’s onesie, making sure not to pinch her chunky legs and placed her back into her mother’s lap.
“Ummm,” Y/N began, “Just extra drained, I guess? Kinda nauseous. I’ve been getting migraines a lot and even when I do get a good night’s rest, I still feel like I could go back to bed for the rest of the day. Maybe I’m just exhausted, I don’t really know. But it just feels a bit different than being worn out like I have been before.”
She could see the wheels in Melanie's head turning, noting each of her symptoms and trying to align them in a path that would lead her to the root of the problem.
“Can I ask you something that might be a bit personal?”
Y/N nodded, rubbing her fingers absentmindedly along the bridge of her daughter’s socked foot.
“Have you and Rafe been intimate since she was born?”
She was taken aback by the question, not understanding where Melanie was going with this or why it was relevant.
“Umm,” Y/N stuttered, feeling a static-y surge of embarrassment travel up her neck and onto the sides of her face, “Yeah. We have.”
A whole fucking lot ever since I’ve been cleared for it, Y/N thought, but kept to herself.
“And can you tell me when your last menstrual cycle ended?”
Then it clicked. She genuinely couldn’t recall her most recent period and even the thought of what Melanie was alluding to made her stomach twist into thousands of tiny knots.
“I- I don’t know. I’ve been so busy with her I don’t even really think about what’s going on with me half of the time.”
Y/N tried to make excuses, anything to avoid the obvious, but judging from the quizzical look on her daughter’s pediatrician’s face, she knew exactly where this was going.
“There’s no way,” she whispered, “I can’t be.”
Melanie's face dropped, now tender and apologetic when she realized that this was news Y/N was not ecstatic to hear.
“I know I’m a pediatrician, so that’s obviously the first thing my mind goes to, but can we at least get you to take a blood test? That way we’ll know for sure?”
//
Rafe came home to a quiet house. It wasn’t unusual, but seeing as it was well after six o’clock in the evening and his wife wasn’t in the kitchen making the pasta dish she'd been dying for all week was. Their grocery store had been out of her favorite canned tomatoes for over a week and she’d nearly tackled Rafe to the ground out of excitement when he’d come home from the grocery store with them the night before. Had he not seen her car in the driveway, he probably wouldn’t have even suspected her to be home.
He checked the living room first, and it was desolate apart from the baby pink, quilted playmat on the floor that was littered with a few of his daughter’s favorite rattles and teethers. Y/N's coat and purse were abandoned haphazardly on the couch, almost as if she tossed it aside in a hurry to get somewhere.
“Baby?” Rafe called out.
Nothing.
His head peaked into the nursery, stealthily and quietly in preparation to walk in on his daughter taking her scheduled nap before her actual bedtime. He’d gotten good at hushing his footfalls to almost complete silence as to not wake her, having made that mistake more than a handful of times.
And he was right. There she was, sprawled out in her crib with her arms outstretched over her head like a tiny starfish. Her chubby cheeks were smushed against her bicep, drawing her lips open the tiniest bit so that Rafe could see the tops of her fleshy, pink gums and the barely-there nub of her first tooth peeking through. More than anything, he wanted to wake her up - lift her from the plush mattress and cuddle her close, shower her with kisses and tickle her with his scruff to hear those baby squeals he adored so much, but he needed to find Y/N first.
She had to be in their bedroom, he thought to himself. Maybe she was taking advantage of their baby girl napping to also get some rest. She had been rather exhausted lately. Maybe she’d had a rough day and was relaxing in the clawfoot, porcelain bathtub that had been the selling point of the home they now lived in. The houses on Figure Eight were lavish, but not all of the bathtubs were - at least that's what Y/N told Rafe. Who was he to question his bride?
Turns out he was right again. Like he had done with the nursery, he held the metal doorknob tightly in his grip to keep the hinges from creeking and pressed it open gently. The room was completely dark, but he could make out the lump underneath the duvet on their king-sized bed as his wife.
Good. She was sleeping.
He padded across the hardwood floor, still being as quiet as he could until he crossed the threshold of the bathroom. There, he rid himself of the uncomfortable clothes he’d been wearing all day. Curse these professional business meetings that forced him to dress nicely.
All throughout the meetings, he wanted nothing more than to be home with his wife and baby, cuddling the afternoon away and watching shitty reality television while his daughter cooed and grunted and gurgled in her baby voice that he loved so much and could listen to all day. He wasn't always this way - he used to love this shit, but something inside him changed indefinitely when his daughter was born. Rafe was a softy now and he wasn't afraid to admit it. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been having to partake in these boring work meetings a lot more lately, which caused him to miss even the smallest aspects of his everyday life like changing diapers or checking the baby monitor eight hundred times throughout the day to make sure his daughter was still breathing. Perhaps he’d just been getting sentimental because she was growing so much these days, but it was an unpleasant feeling nonetheless.
His thoughts were interrupted when he deposited his heavy watch into the dish he kept on the counter and he heard a quiet yet still prominent sniffle among the clattering of metal against the glass dish.
“Baby? You awake?” Rafe peaked his head out from beyond the bathroom door.
He saw her body shift under the covers, but she gave no response. So he called out again.
“You sick or something? Can hear you sniffling."
Nothing.
Pivoting back around to the inside of the bathroom, he quickly shut off the light and carried himself over to her side of the bed where he could see her properly. Her face was tucked into her chin and all that was visible to him was the top of her head.
“Hey,” Rafe cooed, petting what he could reach of her hair and speaking even gentler than he had been, “What’s wrong?”
And that’s when he heard it - an almost inaudible choking sound of Y/N trying to catch her breath that immediately let him know she wasn’t sick. She had been crying.
“Whoa, baby,” he was already pulling the covers back with force, honestly not caring whether or not she minded the intrusion.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
She was emotionless when he saw what little he could her face, her puffy, bloodshot eyes and swollen lips illuminated by the hallway light being the only indicator that she was upset. She didn’t even react to Rafe tugging her head out from where it had been buried in the covers, simply rolling onto her back to stare idly at the ceiling.
“Y/N,” he called for his wife again, this time much more stern, “You’ve got to talk to me.”
She took several deep breaths through her nose, allowing her lungs to fill to their maximum capacity before exhaling with a sigh. Rafe could have sworn she was sucking all of the oxygen out of the room along with his patience each time she did so.
After what felt like ages, she parted her lips to speak.
“I went to the doctor today.”
“Yeah? For the six-month check up, right?” Rafe asked, not seeing why that was important but his mind quickly went to the worst scenario possible despite having just seen his daughter sleeping peacefully in her crib. He cut his eyes towards the hallway in the direction of her nursery before looking back to Y/N.
“Is she alright?” his voice now demanding urgency in the delivery of her response.
“She’s fine,” she quickly dismissed him, internally kicking herself for making Rafe worry.
“I was telling Melanie about how sick I’ve been lately and she -,” Y/N gulped and rubbed her knuckles against her tired eyes, bracing herself for whatever events unfolded after she said what she was about to say.
“She, umm. She made me take a pregnancy test.”
Now it was Rafe turn to be speechless. He stared at her with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly agape. His palms suddenly felt clammy against the white sheets that they rested on and his stomach felt like it had turned in on itself from how badly it was churning. Of all of the things he had expected to be wrong with her, this was certainly the last on the list.
“And?” he asked after what felt like an eternity of staring at her and saying absolutely nothing, though he already knew the answer.
“Ten weeks.”
Silent tears now spilled over her eyes and down past her temples. She couldn’t even be bothered to wipe them, instead letting them dampen a small patch of hair on either side of her head. Pregnancies weren’t supposed to be sad, but somehow, she had barely been able to stop crying since she left the pediatrician’s office.
“How,” Rafe whispered, moreso to himself than to her.
“I think you know how babies are made, Rafe” Y/N quipped.
“That's not what I meant,” Rafe fired back just as quickly, “It’s just...She’s still so little.”
He thought of his daughter asleep in the next room. She was the most perfect thing he’s ever seen and on the day that she was born, he knew he wanted nothing more than to fill his and Y/N’s house with as many blonde, chubby babies as he could fit beds in each room. He just hadn’t expected that his only child’s first birthday present would be the gift of being a big sister.
It was all too sudden.
“I just don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. I mean,” Y/N raised her arms above her head before huffing and letting them fall to her sides, “I guess I was just so caught up with the baby that I hadn’t even had a second to think about what’s going on with me. It’s like I don’t even matter anymore and I-”
“Hey, hey now. Don't do that,” Rafe shushed her and curled up next to her frame as she began to sob.
He tucked her head into his neck, hugging her chest tightly as if he was trying to hold the pieces of her together before she shattered. His mind was running a mile per minute. It killed him to see her like this, killed him to be in this situation. The last time they had found out this news, there were happy tears - tears of shock and excitement about taking the next step in building a family. Never had he imagined that the next time they were presented with the very same news, that there would be tears of sadness.
Her voice was muffled against his now wrinkled button-down, but he could still make out what she was saying beneath her blubbers.
“I can’t do this.”
“What do you mean, honey? Of course you can. I can take more time off work like last time and let the boys handle everything for a bit. I know it's not ideal, but we’ll be alright,” he ran his hand up and down her arm in an attempt to soothe her.
“That’s the problem, Rafe.”
He lifted his chin from here it was resting on the top of her head to look down at her.
“What?”
“It's not ideal. You've only just now gotten back to work full time. You said everything almost fell apart while you were gone. It would fuck everything up. Plus, she's only six months old, Rafe. I can't go through that again so soon."
Rafe paused to break away from her and sit up straight against the headboard, “Are you serious? Of course I can take more time off work. You are more important than anything that could possibly be going on at the office.” He was a bit stunned by her words. She almost sounded annoyed, which didn't sit quite right with Rafe.
“But do you see what’s happening? Everything is fucked.”
His voice wasn’t so calm anymore.
“No, Y/N. I honestly don’t. I mean I know this is all happening much earlier than we expected, but what else is there to do? Will you please tell me what you're getting at, because I’m starting to get upset.”
Rafe's lips were pressed in a thin, straight line and his nostrils flared with every breath. Why was she being like this?
“I don’t know what I’m fucking getting at. I’m just overwhelmed."
“And you think I’m not? I'm trying my best to keep it together for your sake if you haven’t noticed,” it almost condescending the way the words rolled off his tongue.
“Oh, excuse me,” Y/N laughed sarcastically.
“Didn’t realize you were the one that's pregnant. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to grow all big and gross and swollen and be in pain every fucking day to the point where walking to the bathroom feels like a fucking marathon. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to feel like you're burning alive from the inside out for hours and then just have to lay there while a doctor you’ve never seen before stitches you up because it literally tore your insides apart. Didn’t realize you-”
“For fuck’s sake, I get it!” Rafe was yelling now. They hadn't argued like this since they were much younger, and he absolutely hated it.
“It’s not the same and I’m sorry for suggesting that it was. I'm not sure what you want me to say though. I’m sorry? Is that it? Sorry for getting you pregnant? Sorry for having a job that helps us get anything we want for ourselves and our family? Sorry that I do everything I possibly can to keep you and the baby and everyone else on the fucking planet happy?”
“You’re being an asshole, Rafe,” she was just as angry as he was, scowl evident on her face even in their dimly lit bedroom.
“And you’re not making any fucking sense! Are you telling me you don’t want to keep it? Because I never fucking said that you have to.”
The thought had crossed her mind on the drive home from the doctor’s office, but the feeling left as quickly as it approached. She’d taken one look at her daughter in her car seat through the rear view mirror happily sucking on her teether and knew without a doubt that she couldn’t.
She felt a tidal wave of fresh, salty tears peaking and about to crash over her.
“I don’t want - fuck,” she put her head in her hands.
“I just-,” and then she broke.
Sobs wracked her body, making her shoulders shake up and down. She wasn’t even sure how she had any more left to get out, but it just kept coming. Over and over and over again until it felt like she was being suffocated and that no one was going to save her. She felt Rafe's hands move to rest on her shoulder blades and heard gentle, cooing-like sounds coming out of his mouth, but she couldn’t make out what he had said over the sounds of her own wailing.
“Baby, it’s okay. Just breathe. It’s alri-”
His attempt at subduing her was cut short by shrill cries coming from the digital monitor that sat on their nightstand. Rafe peeked over his shoulder at the screen, seeing that their daughter had woken from her nap and was now demanding the attention of her parents. He couldn’t help but wince as he watched her socked feet flail around in the crib; it was without a doubt that the screaming match they’d just had that stirred her from her sleep, and that hurt him just as much as it did to see his wife crying right in front of him.
Y/N heard it too, somehow. Perhaps it was because she’d been trained to react to every minute sound that she made and could recognize her cries from a mile away in the paralyzing fear that something was wrong with her or maybe it was because she looking for any and every excuse to get Rafe's hands off of her so she could get away from him and escape the argument they’d just had without making the situation any worse than it already was. Regardless, she turned her own neck to peer at the monitor and sighed heavily.
“I’ll go, Y/N. Just stay here.”
“No. I got it. It’s after seven. She’s probably hungry.”
She shrugged Rafe's hands away from her shoulders like his touch physically pained her and climbed over his body and off the bed without another word, not even giving Rafe the chance to take her hand and help her over the edge of the mattress. He knew she wasn’t going anywhere but down the hall and into the nursery, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was walking away from everything.
//
Y/N stared her daughter while she nursed. She started from the top of her head that was riddled with sandy blonde curls and worked her way down to the tips of her toes that would occasionally flex themselves out of habit. Her hair? Undoubtedly Rafe's. Her eyes? A perfect, entrancing shade of blue akin to Rafe's. Her lips? The same almost inhuman shade of fleshy pink, just like Rafe's. Surprisingly, the only physical trait she’d inherited from her mother was her nose, which was funny considering that Y/N had always hated hers.
She was content, suckling away at Y/N’s breast - her cries of hunger long forgotten. The infant hadn’t even flinched when a few more of Y/N’s silent, cold tears spilled over and left small wet spots where her onesie rested over her belly. She had no idea that her parents were upset with each other and she had no idea that in a little more than six months time, she’d be a big sister and there would be two babies fighting for their attention. Y/N was also clueless, but only as to how she was going to take care of a newborn and a one-year-old simultaneously. She’d always thought she’d have more time than this - more time to spend with just her daughter and Rafe before they decided to have another, but just like her eyes, things always had a funny way of never working out in her favor.
Three soft knocks on the wall withdrew her from her thoughts and she was greeted by her husband idling in the doorway like he needed permission before entering a room in his own house. It was off seeing Rafe Cameron this way - being the one with his tail tucked beneath his legs. It was usually the opposite. He had changed out of his work clothes and was now clad in his favorite pair of sweats that were permanently stained with spit-up. Y/N had tried everything under the sun to get the spots out, but he’d been persistent on not throwing them out.
“Can I come in?”
His voice was barely above a whisper and much calmer than when he’d been yelling at her about twenty minutes ago. He still hesitated crossing the threshold even after Y/N had given him a skeptical nod, but allowed his bare feet to pad over the plush carpet as he joined her on the loveseat in the far corner of the nursery.
He watched their daughter just as Y/N had, taking in her tranquil state as her fingers brushed reflexively against the underside of Y/N’s breast. He’d never been able to pry his eyes away every time he watched her nurse. There were no ulterior motives behind it whatsoever. It amazed him each and every time, how Y/N was able to provide their child with everything that they needed to grow with only her body. At first, Y/N hated that Rafe loved sitting in on her feedings, feeling exposed and unattractive despite Rafe's continuous affirmations that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever had the privilege of witnessing, but over time she’d grown fond of it.
“I'm sorry for yelling at you,” Rafe started.
“It was uncalled for,” she quipped.
Y/N sniffled, rubbing her swollen eyes with the back of her free hand that wasn’t supporting her daughter’s back as she held her.
“It’s okay. It was a lot to take in. I’m sorry for yelling at you too.”
She couldn’t quite look him in the eye just yet, but she was slowy but surely getting there.
“It's not okay, actually. You’re right. I’m not the one having the baby. It’s you that’s got to do all the hard stuff and I know how scary it was last time. I should've been more considerate before jumping the gun.”
He shifted towards her on the cushions, afraid to touch her just yet but still yearning to be closer to her.
The best Y/N could muster was a quiet, “Thank you,” before she busied herself by attempting to run her fingers through her baby’s hair and untangle the mess she’d created while she was sleeping.
“Can I hold you? Please?” his voice was quiet and pleading.
Now was when she turned to face him and she was met with eyes that were just as red-rimmed as hers. She had heard the bathroom sink running for an abnormally long amount of time and a hard, frustrated pounding against the wall shortly after she’d gone off in the nursery to feed the baby, which meant he must have been trying to muffle the sounds of his own crying when she left their bedroom.
Y/N didn’t say anything, only shifting her weight onto one side so Rafe could easily lift her onto his lap in one swift movement without disturbing their daughter. He tucked her shoulder into his neck and softly kissed her skin and his hands moved to mimic hers so they were both holding the baby that was nodding off again in their arms. She found herself relaxing into his loose grip, her head tilting to the side to rest against his.
“I love you so much. You know that? I’d drop everything for you if I had to. I don't care about any of it anymore.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” she refuted, but there was no malice in her tone.
“I wouldn’t let you. You try to play it cool and I know that things are different now, but I also know that deep down you really like what you do.” The corner of Rafe's lips turned upwards, suppressing a chuckle at the fact that she really does know him that well.
“Well, just know that I would if you wanted me to. I’ve thought about it a thousand times. I want to be here for you. For her. Don’t want to miss anything. I finally got my shot at being normal when I met you and I hate myself sometimes when I think about all of the bullshit I've put you through.”
“Don’t,” Y/N paused to press a chaste kiss to Rafe's cheek.
“You’re a good person, Rafe's. A good dad. A good husband. Please don’t ever think that you’re not.”
She felt moisture pool in the dips of her collarbones where Rafe's chin lied, but she didn’t acknowledge it.
“I’ll be okay. Sorry if I freaked you out earlier. Think I just need some time to get used to it all. Just wasn’t expecting Melanie to drop the ball that I was pregnant when all I was expecting was for her to tell me that our kid is in the 99th percentile for weight and then send me on my way.”
This got a chuckle out of him, almost causing him to choke on his tears. He quickly rubbed the sleeves of his sweatshirt against his eyes to dry up any remaining wet spots on his face.
“She is pretty chunky, isn’t she?” Rafe jested while thumbing over his daughter’s rounded tummy.
After a moment of admiring their little chunk of a baby, with her milk-drunk eyes and puckered lips, Rafe spoke again.
“Two babies,” he huffed.
“Two babies,” she repeated.
His hands moved to caress Y/N’s stomach. She wasn’t showing yet considering that neither of them had even known Y/N was pregnant until today, but he still held her like her belly was the size of a watermelon and he was waiting anxiously to feel a hand or a foot press up against his palm.
“Might be kinda nice. They can share everything and we’ll only have to have one birthday party because they’ll be born around the same time. They’ll go to the same school and probably have the same friends. Kinda like twins.”
“Are you hearing yourself? Rafe Cameron? The party connoisseur? Suggesting his two precious babies share a birthday party?”
Rafe pursed his lips and blushed, recalling the fact that he'd already planned his daughter's first birthday in his head. Down to the tablecloth colors and dinnerware.
“Got me there,” Rafe chuckled.
Their banter was interrupted by a grueling rumbling sound coming from Y/N’s stomach that Rafe could feel throughout his entire body.
“Jesus, Y/N. You hungry too? When’s the last time you ate?”
“Uhh...this morning I think?” Y/N sighed.
“Couldn’t stomach anything when I got home.”
Rafe's heart dropped when he thought of how distraught she’d been all day while he was gone and with everything in him, he’d wished he would have postponed his meetings to go to check up with her and they could have found out together.
“Found those tomatoes at the store the other day, remember? Want me to make that pasta for you?”
“Ohh, yes please,” she immediately perked up at the thought.
“Starting to wonder if that was a craving now that I think about it. Didn’t we have it, what? Three nights in a row a while back?” she proposed.
Rafe giggled as he reluctantly removed Y/N from his lap and stood up from the sofa.
“Thought it was a bit weird that you wanted it so badly, but I know better than to question you.”
“She’s going back down. If you give me a minute, I’ll come downstairs and help you,” Y/N said, pulling up the straps of her tank top after realizing her daughter had long since forgotten about her breast and was conked out in her arms.
“I've got it, mama” Rafe quickly refuted. “Take a bath or something and I’ll bring it up when it’s done.”
“Okay.”
Y/N couldn’t fight the grin growing on her face at the nickname Rafe used that she still hadn’t gotten used to.
When she placed their daughter soundly in her crib, Y/N’s fingers stayed put from where they sat on the railing as she caught herself staring at the sleeping infant once more. Though she’d felt like her world was caving in on her just a handful of hours ago, the pieces were all coming back together now.
Of course, she wanted more children with Rafe. And now she was getting what she wanted. Just like he’d told her back in the bedroom, it wasn’t ideal, but they’d make it work. They always did.
With two babies.
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“What?!”
The hero looked to Nuvian with a very puzzled expression, the half-elf bard just smirked a bit and gave him a wink. Up until now he was the model of virtue, always helping the hero make the right choice so the people would love him. Telling the best stories so his path stayed true…so the works coming out of his mouth right now were jarring at best.
“Yes, let me toy with him for a while. I think I can get three or four weeks. Two months if I use this new healing spell I’ve been trying to learn on the side. Oh I think his screams will be wonderful…a symphony for the soul if you will.”
Nuvian smile as he moved the villain over to make sure his heart was still bleeding and offering some stabilization without waking him up. The hero was just dumbfounded at the moment.
“I…I was just going to kill him.”
Nuvian didn’t even look back as he made sure to search the Villain’s pockets and remove everything but enough clothes to leave his modesty intact. He moved like he was an expert at this, like it had been done a hundred times and this was simply business as usual. Even his tone was as light and warm as it ever has been.
“Oh, I know, but that was never the plan my dear friend. This was the plan. This has always been the plan.”
The rest of the party was recovering. They had all been just hurt enough to have to stay behind for the final battle leaving only the hero and his trusty bard to face the boss alone. None of them grievously injured…but just enough so they wouldn’t be at full so they weren’t strong enough to walk through the barrier.
“The Plan? You need to talk to me Nuvian. I want you to explain everything right now!”
The Hero panicked, had he just been manipulated this entire time? Were his motivation his own? Panic…worry…dread. He said he’d never be a puppet again. Not since escaping slavery.
“Oh it was simple. Keep you good, get you strong and get to the villain. Kill him, won’t help you feel better. You know it needs to be done though. If you did this, you’d lose part of yourself. Which is fine. You’ve only killed monsters up to this point, mindless hunks of meat that deal out constant aggression. They have no emotions, no anything. They are easy to kill. Sentient beings on the other hand, well that isn’t you cup of tea. Don’t worry, your quest was yours alone, I didn’t need to make you do anything. I was just along to get to this point.”
At this point the Hero didn’t even notice Nuvian hoist the Villain up on their horse and secure them to the saddle. The bard then turned to his friend and walked over to put a hand on his shoulder. The Hero’s eyes locked with his friend and oddly enough he found comfort in them. This was the man who had saved his life, who sang by the fire at night to quell the restless spirits that banded together to remove the Villain from power. He was there, it couldn’t have all been a lie could it?
“Listen, you aren’t the only one this bastard has hurt. On top of that he knows things, things no one but me knows he knows. So I want some answers. I get to have fun while I rip them from his flesh. I’m a nice person my dear Hero but I’m not a good one. Do you remember the corrupt mayor that we punished last year?”
The Hero nodded and then froze.
“What did you do to him? We left him in a jail cell and moved on. The city was supposed to do what they needed…but then you had business. I…I watched you get on a boat and leave. We met up a month later.”
Nuvian just smile and squeezed his friend’s shoulder. He then motioned for him to sit down in the batter throne they found the villain on while Nuvian sat in the stewards spot.
“Well, I did have business, but I just had the ship drop me down the river and I looped around back. I then hunted down every noble that supported the Mayor, I tortured them to make sure there were no hidden secrets, and then I tortured the mayor till his body gave out. I did some of my best work. A demon actually came up from hell to have me autograph a square of his flesh after his body gave out and his soul hit its final destination. It was really an honor. Shows I’m on the right path. Most polite pit fiend I’ve ever met. Didn’t use my real name of course, not that stupid. We had a laugh over it, all in all a great time.”
The Hero was still stunned but honestly he didn’t feel bad about it. He didn’t give the go ahead for this, but he knew if anyone deserved those fates it was that pedophile mayor and his lackies. Reason was starting to return, and the more Nuvian talked the more the Hero realized that it wasn’t that he didn’t know his friend, he just didn’t know ALL of his friend and that was okay because he was finding out now.
“Alright, if that is what you want to do I’m not going to argue or stop you. Come find me when you are done though okay, I want to take you out to the tavern for a drink.”
Nuvian just chuckled and brought his friend in for a hug. He knew the Hero wasn’t naive and thus why he was chosen as a traveling partner and one to help him get to his goal. Find, capture, break and then murder the Villain. The process took three years, but three years of well spent effort.
“Deal.”
The bard said as they parted ways and he turned to head out of the place before the rest of the party could try and press their morals upon them. Nuvian could only chuckle as he head the Villain groan in pain. Oh it was going to be SO much worse in just a day’s time…he couldn’t wait.
'You can't kill him!' 'Ugh I am so sick of this idea that killing this monster would make me just as bad as he is!' 'What? No I'm saying I can keep him alive for DAYS while I torture him' '…'
#writers#writers on tumblr#writing prompts#writeblr#writing inspiration#Writer#Fantasy#Magic#Lawful Evil#UnknownOgre
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All in good time, — Franco Colapinto.
Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader
Summary: When a college student meets her polar opposite in Franco Colapinto, she instantly disliked him. But, Franco was enamored with her and he would get her to like him, all in good time.
Word count: 1.65k+
Disclaimer/s: this is a hockey!au
A/N: this is for @purinfelix and jet only! though i love each and every one of you who choses to read it.. this was. this was ass girl shit i’m sorry i didn’t know where i was going toward the end… i may do another hockey player!franco fic tho but its going to be far more centered around the actual hockey
Franco Colapinto was a force to be reckoned with. Somehow, you’d gotten tangled into his life. When your dorm was being renovated and you needed a place to stay, your roommate suggested her friend’s house—that friend being Franco. A notorious hockey player for the Golden Knights.
He was, in simple terms, agitating. Your two and a half weeks staying in his basement was something close to hell on earth. He held parties, big ones! Ones that interrupted your studying, which he’d half ass apologize for the next morning while nursing a raging hangover, right before asking you to make your signature hangover recipe while he showered.
That was your payment for staying there. You nursed his hangovers and helped him come up with various excuses as to why he was late to practice, even going as far as to go out of your way to tell his coach you’d gotten terribly sick and he had to bring you to the hospital.
Two pea’s in a lying pod. That’s what you were.
In the first week, he’d convinced you to go to the rink to help him practice. You—only ever using figure skates—had a difficult time keeping up with him. You nearly broke a tailbone trying to catch up with him.
Franco held a lopsided grin when he stopped, ice shavings flying as he turned to face you. Though, you saw the concern flash across his face as he skated back in your direction, leaning down to help you up.
“I need an ice pack—“ Your lips formed a thin line, “actually, I need wine and an excuse to get out of this hell.”
The curly haired man laughed, pulling your hand over his shoulder as his free arm looped around your waist. Holding you up, he assisted you back to the bench, setting you down carefully.
Once you shifted to get comfortable, wincing in pain, you untie the laces on your skates. “How do you do this for a living? I’m fucking miserable and we’ve done this once.”
Franco shrugs, leaning his head against the tempered glass that separated the rink from the benches. “Maybe I will just have to put you to work.” His lips threaten a smirk, “if it helps, I do prefer practicing with you than my teammates.”
That wasn’t even particularly a lie. He tried to find ways to get to know you, but you were a tough nut to crack. He tried so hard to find ways to get in your good graces, and forcing you to hang out with him was the only way he could get you to spend quality time with him.
His flirting was what annoyed you the most. You couldn’t stand it, only because it made a weird feeling erupt in your stomach. “First of all, don’t let them hear that. Second of all, I will never do this again. Ever.”
Franco was a convincer. He was good at getting people to do things, and you were unfortunately, not exempt from that. Even when you were back in your dorms, he’d convinced you to join him at the rinks.
You rarely ever practiced with him, simply opting to watch from the stands. You hated to admit it, but you’d grown to enjoy the time spent with him. When he took breaks, he’d explain the rules to you, different tactics they used, various things.
When you’d get so engrossed in conversation, he’d slip in a question about you, that you’d answer without thinking. He was good at getting to know people, but you were a difficult case. He’d found a way eventually, only getting you to talk about yourself when you were so distracted you couldn’t think long enough to stop it.
“Hockey pucks are actually frozen before games to make them move faster and glide smoothly on the ice, so they don’t bounce a lot.” Franco was rambling about different facts, waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip in a question he’d been waiting to ask for weeks.
“Seriously? So they don’t just stay rubbery and lukewarm?” The last part was only slightly sarcastic, but the fact had actually surprised you.
“So.. are you seeing anyone?”
“No.” You pause, wait—what? You don’t get an opportunity to ask any further questions because he was already onto the next fact. “Franco!” You snap, interjecting his next rant.
Francos eyebrows raise slightly, “yeah?”
You narrow your eyes, licking your lips. “You just asked if I was seeing someone. Then—you know what. That doesn’t matter, what does though, is that you just slipped in a question that was not like the others you’ve slipped in.” His face contorts and you laugh, “i’m going to law school, I notice tactics like that.”
The hockey players mouth quirks, he wasn’t even slightly ashamed. “Oh, I love how smart you are.” He hums, “I was just curious. If you were, thank the lord you aren’t, but, he wouldn’t like you hanging out with me.”
“Thank the lord? Seriously?” Your eyes roll dramatically. The wooden bench beneath you feels stiff and uncomfortable the more he watched you with his stupidly smug face.
Franco nods, “hey—“ He begins untying his laces, “you should come to my game tomorrow. You haven’t come in a while.”
The topic switch was noticeable, but you ignore it. “I have a lecture late tomorrow. I’ll probably be tired.” But when Franco’s face changes into that familiar doe-eyed expression, you cave. “Fine! I’ll come! Quit looking at me like that.”
“I’m not looking at you like anything.”
“Yes you are”
“No i’m not.”
“Are too!”
“Let me take you to dinner.”
“Are—what?” Your brain stops working, words failing your tongue. Excuse you? “Wait a fucking minute—“
Franco watches you carefully. “Is that a no?”
“No! I mean—“ You were still a stumbling mess. Your mouth opening and clamping shut. “It’s a-well, I mean, It’s a yes! Yes, I will! Jesus, Franco. You couldn’t have asked any smoother?”
He’s smiling, finding your stammering all too amusing… and adorable. It was very cute. “It felt fitting to me.” He shrugs casually, slipping off his skates. “After the game and a shower, the diner you like a few blocks from your dorm?”
That was most definitely something he learned during his not-so-secret questionnaires.
“That sounds perfect.” You huff, “now, can you bring me home? I think i’m developing hypothermia.”
After changing into his regular shoes, he stands, offering you his hand. You take it, though it was with an eye roll. Franco smirks at your reaction, not commenting on it as he helps you to your feet.
“Does your body not ache every time you finish?” You ask as the two of you exit the arena, making your way through the dark parking lot.
You regretted your choice of words the second they left your lips. “Don’t even—“
“I have incredible stamina, actually.” Franco cheeses, slinging his arm around you. You allow it, even leaning into his side.
“You are insufferable.” You scoff, but the twitch of your lips betrayed your feigned annoyance.
The laugh that emits from Francos mouth has a smile growing on your lips, it was a sound you’d grown to enjoy.
Franco opens the passenger door for you, which had you suppressing a smile. It was a gesture he made every trip to the arena, in fact—Franco was very much a gentleman, despite boy boyish he could be.
Only when he was the drivers seat with the engine going and heater ablaze, does Franco finally grow serious. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, I know you’re sort of a people pleaser.”
Okay, ouch?
Franco’s eyes widen, “I didn’t mean it like that!” He says quickly, stumbling for a way to fix what he said.
You’d never seen Franco have to search for words to say. He was always so smooth and, well, he was never one to falter.
“I know what you meant, and you’re right. But, when have I ever gone out of my way to people please you.” You reassure him, a gentle look on your face. “I want this.”
The rest was history. You want Franco had been going steady for months. Whenever you had enough time in your busy college schedule, you went to his games, you were his number one cheerleader and support system.
Hockey had easily become your favorite sport, you knew everything about it due to Franco’s inability to ever stop talking. Thats probably what made the two of you such a perfect pair. You were quiet, he wasn’t. He was your polar opposite, the yin to your yang. And thats what made it work.
When you didn’t want to talk, he wasn’t there to fill the silence. When he didn’t want to talk, you enjoyed each other’s silence.
You had never thought in a million years, the man who annoyed you oh so much, was the same man you would grow to love.
likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future franco posts.
ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @purinfelix @sakashq @hrts4havertz @spidybaby
#franco colapinto#franco colapinto x y/n#franco colapinto one shot#franco colapinto x you#franco colapinto imagine#franco colapinto x reader#franco colapinto au#hockey au#blurb#fluff#fanfic#formula 1#formula one#f1#willaims racing
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Hazbin Hotel - Morning Routines
Kind of a part 2 to the Sleeping Habits Post??? While that one is about falling asleep with them, this one is about what its like to wake up with them. Same lineup; Alastor, Vox, and Lucifer. I... also might have accidentally started a Charlie one so I might be doing more parts to these (。ŏ_ŏ)
Contents/WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader; NSFW in Vox's section; mostly just nuclear powered fluff; somebody PLEASE get Lucifer a doctor the man is so depressed (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
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Alastor ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧
As gone over in my sleeping habits post, Alastor does not like sharing a bed normally. But if it does happen to be a blue moon and he actually stayed the whole night; it is a sight to behold in the morning.
Alastor's hair is naturally curly. Due to internalized racism (from you know, the 1920s), Alastor insists his hair must be straight and has a crazy hair routine to keep it that way. One of many reasons why his hair is so... gnarly looking.
Right after he wakes up in the mornings though, his bedhead breaks through the illusion. You get to see the glorious sight of Alastor's hair attempting to go back to its natural form. The edges of his locks are making small loops in all directions, and his face is framed in loose ringlets.
Unfortunately, this only lasts for about ten minutes at most before he goes to "fix" it.
Other then getting to see that beautiful sight, the mornings are the same regardless of if he stayed in the bed with you or not; You always get to wake up to his wonderful cooking.
Alastor has unfortunately had to take it upon himself to be the hotel chef. Charlie did try to do it for a little bit, but that resulted in more fires and ambiguous remains then anything. Vaggie and Husk can barely operate a microwave. Nifty is well... Nifty.
So Alastor pops into the hotel kitchen at around 7am to start cooking breakfast for the hotel. More 7:30 if his hair has been particularly unruly that day.
Alastor pokes fun at everyone over being their chef, but he really likes it actually. He will never admit that to anyone though. He finds the mornings relaxing because he gets to just cook, something that he enjoys and thats deeply nostalgic for him. It starts him off on the right foot for the day.
The only times it starts him on the wrong foot, is when Lucifer decides to get up at an ungodly hour (or straight up pull an all nighter), just so he can steal the kitchen and make the hotel breakfast instead.
Lucifer does this because he thinks he is a better chef then Alastor. Surely, Alastor's annoyance is proof of that! But Alastor is actually pissed off because his plans for the morning got set on fire by Lucifer's dumb ego.
Alastor really does go above and beyond as the chef by the way. For a cannibal, you would never expect how respectful he is of everyone's dietary preferences. If your a vegetarian, or even a vegan, Alastor won't blow you off. He will make something for everyone that still works for you, or just make you something special. He sees it less as you having a dietary restriction and more as a challenge of his skills.
Anyways, thanks to Alastor, mornings at the hotel are always extremely nice. Everyone comes down to eat together, hang out, and just be. Its a tranquil time and atmosphere that he has taken great care to cultivate. Sets him up perfectly mentally for his afternoon radio shows.
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Vox ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧
Vox always wakes up with a big sigh. He is very much that type of person whose first thought when waking up is, 'goddamn it, I woke up'. Hates leaving the bed but knows he has to.
At least Vox stops having those thoughts when you become apart of his life.
If your still in the bed when he wakes up, Vox is immediately comforted by your weight on his chest. He cant help but smile as his arms tighten around you. One of Vox's hands starts absentmindedly carding through your hair as he goes over everything he has to do that day in his head.
If your not in the bed when Vox wakes up, it completely fucks with his mind. His sleeping body does not register you moving or getting up at all. So from Vox's perspective, you were in his arms one second then... not. Vox will wake up to you not there and be super confused. He will legit start looking for you like a puppy.
Depending on your relationship status with him, Vox might even just assume that he dreamt/hallucinated the whole encounter with you. Only realizing that it actually happened upon outside evidence.
Operating on the assumption that you two are a thing; Vox now tries to keep his mornings flexible because of you. They used to be very regimented. Vox would wake up, get dressed, grab a coffee, then be right out the door to head to work. But now that your here, the mornings are much more relaxed.
When you first move in, Vox's first order of business is to hire a personal chef. Don't get me wrong, Vox loves it when you cook for him. The guy absolutely melts when you do. But the reality is he loves it a little... too much. Which often results in no breakfast actually being had because Vox ends up dragging you back to the bedroom. Of course, that's if he doesn't end up fucking you right on the counter or kitchen table.
Look. Seeing you by the stove in an apron just does something to him, alright?
If you ever even asked Vox if he knew how to cook, the guy would probably bluescreen. The only thing he knows how to ""cook"" is 'takeout'. (image included) If he tried to boil an egg, he would burn the water.
So yeah. Vox takes initiative to get you two a chef. He doesn't want you to have to cook for him anyway; he wants it to be an act of love rather then an obligation. If you push Vox and say you want to cook for him, he will making heart eyes and be ready to marry you on the spot.
Seriously. Make him cute, homemade lunches for work. Vox will brag about them to everyone. Put adorable love notes in there and everything. The guy will be on his knees.
Regardless of who actually made the breakfast, Vox always has it with you. He may be a busy man, but he makes sure this is a time you get him exclusively. Vox lets you know of his schedule for the day (assuming Valentino doesnt set it on fire ofc) and when he plans on being home.
When Vox leaves for work he actually has a genuine smile on his face. Don't get me wrong, he still hates it and cant wait to get back home to you. But Vox doesn't feel that same crushing dread that he did before.
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Lucifer ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧
It used to be so hard to get up for him. It wasn't uncommon for Lucifer to just wallow in bed for an entire day. But now that your here, everything has changed. Lucifer actually has a reason to get up in the mornings again. He used to just go back to sleep and pretend the world doesn't exist.
He is a morningbird by nature, so he often wakes up before you. However, Lucifer hates leaving your arms and the cozy bed. So one of two things happens depending on how he is feeling.
If Lucifer is feeling good, or just particularly lovey that morning; he will pull you extra close to him and start kissing all over you. You'll wake up to the wonderful feeling of fleeting kisses and his smile on your skin. No better way to start the day.
As soon as he notices your awake, Lucifer moves to place quick, chaste kisses all over your face. All while asking, "How are you feeling, Ducky?", "Did you sleep okay?", "Have any fun dreams?".
Lucifer looks at you with the most adoring look in his eyes, desperate to snuggle and feel your skin on his. He wants to listen to you talk about anything and everything.
After awhile of cuddling and pillow talk, you have to be the one to convince Lucifer to get up. He will playfully whine and try to keep you in the bed, but he won't keep it up for long. Lucifer also cant wait to make you a wonderful breakfast and talk more while he cooks too~
Lucifer is a chatterbox when he wants to be. Especially with someone he loves. He basically wants to imbibe your entire being; that includes getting to know every random thought you have and every dark corner of your mind.
But if Lucifer feels the weight of depression weighing him down that morning, he simply snuggles deeper into you when he wakes. His grip on you tightens, and he pulls the sheets tighter around you two. Like he is building a cocoon or trying to shield you both from the outside.
Sometimes you can tell as soon as he wakes up that he is in a bad state. Instead of kisses, you are woken up by the trembling of his small form. Shaking with unshed tears and fresh pain from old wounds.
Lucifer clings to you desperately; the grip of his claws threatening to break your skin. You have to physically force him away from you just so you can look him in the eyes. Even then, Lucifer whimpers and tries to hug you tighter in protest.
He will begin to plead with you. Saying things like "Don't leave me" or "Please stay". You kiss him gently and bring him into your chest as he finally begins to sob. You two stay there for a long time. Lucifer is extra clingy that day. Attached to you at the hip and always holding your hand in his. His heart rate picks up and he starts to get frantic if your fingers slip out of his.
Mornings with Lucifer are overall just very slow. Meandering. Lucifer's safe place has become the bed since the heights of his depression, so he is reluctant to leave it. Some dark part of him feels that the longer he can keep you in bed, the longer he wont have to say an inevitable 'goodbye'.
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FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧
Its a super silly idea, but I love >>THIS POST<< by @antiheroalastor where you find out Alastor has a extensive skincare routine.
Cute imagine by @voxisdaddy where Vox has to cuddle you to fall asleep can be found >>HERE<<
Then something more spicy, >>HERE<< are some ADORABLE Lucifer aftercare headcanons by @redr0sewrites. Rose writes the rambling, dorky, disaster Lucifer that I have envisioned in my head PERFECTLY.
#I got fucking poetic in lucifers section whoops#me summoning my fear of abandomnent#lucifer is becoming the embodiment of my personal mental illness#hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#vox x reader#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer morningstar#lucifer morningstar fluff#alastor hazbin hotel#vox hazbin hotel#lucifer hazbin hotel#alastor hazbin hotel fluff#vox hazbin hotel fluff#lucifer hazbin hotel fluff#hazbin alastor x reader#hazbin vox x reader#hazbin lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel alastor fluff#hazbin hotel lucifer fluff#hazbin hotel vox fluff#hazbin hotel vox x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel alastor x reader
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You have mentioned, I think, a few times of the humans trying to avoid being sick. How would the bots react to their human being sick?
I'm just sick atm, you don't have to do anything if you don't want too
Dealing with the Human Being Sick Headcanons
TFP Soundwave x Reader
• Pausing in his typing when you make a noise he’s never heard, his helm tips toward your tiny frame. A tendril lifting as you curl into a ball, your little frame shaking as you keep making that violent noise. Drawing your knees up to your body as he loops his tendril about you, feeling those wracking sounds. And he’s bending over you, the side of his helm bumping your head. Because as soon as he touches you, that misery comes through loud and clear.
• Blinking up at Soundwave, even with no expression, it’s obvious your coughing is worrying him. “Think I’m getting sick,” you manage and he bumps you again, tendril curling tighter around you. Whatever he was working forgotten as he fusses over you, his other tendril whipping about to find and bring you every one of your blankets, pillows, any soft thing he’s ever gotten you and piling them up around you. Dragging water and food nearby, his helm lifting to look around like he’s trying to find anything else to give you and it’s so sweet, because he obviously isn’t sure what to do, but he’s trying. Settling yourself against the coil of the tendril, you tip your head to press a kiss against him when he tries to bump you with his helm again, feeling him freeze. “Thank you.”
IDW Prowl x Reader
• “Stop acting like a sparkling.” Hooking an arm around you, he drags you into his lap and grits his denta when you smack a palm against his jaw and try to shove him away. Do you have any idea how much energy mass shifting takes? “Behave,” he snarls, arms tightening around you, chin on top of your head until you finally give up and slump into his warmth. The shivering doesn’t stop, though. Servos finding bare skin, it’s a surprise to find you sweaty and much warmer to the touch than normal.
• “It’s a fever, you idiot,” he mutter, too exhausted to keep struggling against him. Why else would you have stripped down to your underclothes when he knows you can’t stand how cold his quarters are? He hadn’t bothered to ask, just frowning down at where you’d sprawled out on your belly, soaking in how cold his berth is against your feverish skin. And he’d dropped a blanket on you, scowling when you’d immediately slung it off and glared up at him. “I’m fine.” Venting against you to stir your hair, he refuses to let you go, practically wrapping himself around you when you’re already sweating and miserable. Like he’s worried and actually cares. Smothering you. “Some soup would be awesome,” you mutter, and it works. He lets you go, mass shifting to go hunt for a can as you snort. Hopefully there’s none in the Ark and you can sleep while he’s busy searching.
TFP Shockwave x Reader
• “Thirteen?” You’re usually awake by now, but you’re still curled up in the corner of your cage, your blanket tangled around your legs. It’s the rasping sound of your breathing that freezes him in reaching for you, because that sound isn’t normal. Almost wet sounding as your eyes open, head turning to stare up at him. Not smiling for him and his servos begin to tremble, the illogical chaos he keeps so carefully locked away, seeping out. Because something is wrong.
• He’s stuck again, unmoving aside from that faint tremor in his servos and the antenna on his helm flicking. You’ve seen it before, but usually he shakes it off. Covering your mouth as a cough shakes you, it’s an effort to sit up when you feel so awful. His one optic is flaring brighter, servos of his hand now flexing in almost spasms. “Shockwave?” Getting to your feet, you reach for him and he pulls away, that cannon powering up and lifting as his antenna go all the way back, head scanning the room like he’s looking for threats. Like he doesn’t know where he is and your breath catches. “Hey, can you get me some water? My throat’s raw,” you call out, trying to break him from whatever this is, because he’s scaring you. And slowly, his optic dims some and he looks down. Coming back to you as the danger passes.
IDW Starscream x Reader
• Fussing over you, his wings flick as he finds another blanket to tuck around you. “Fragile organics,” he mutters, using scorn to hide how much it upsets him, because he doesn’t know what to do. How to fix this. And you just curl into the nest he’s made you, absently reaching to pat his hand. Like everything is fine. Do you need a medic? Anything he can get you to make this stop? Because he hates feeling useless.
• Squinting up at Starscream as he adjusts your blankets again, you find his fidgeting too sweet, warmth spreading through you that he’s so worried about you. “It’s a cold. I’m fine,” you tell him for the third time, knowing he doesn’t quite believe you as he just vents before scooping you up blankets and all and relocating you to his desk. Apparently intending to sit and watch over you as he props his chin on his fist, optics running over you as he reaches to stroke your hair. So much for resting, but he means well.
IDW Bluestreak x Reader
• “Blue, I’m okay. Really,” you rasp, clinging to his servos as he completely ignores you in his panic, running for medbay with you tangled in the blankets you’d been sleeping in. It doesn’t matter that it’s just a cold, because he apparently thinks you’re going to die on him.
• Cradling you against him, he can feel how hot your skin is and can hear you reassuring him. Knows he needs to calm down, but fear has him by the throat. All those what ifs. Maybe you’re wrong, maybe it’s something dangerous and he might lose you if he doesn’t act right now. And he can’t risk it, needs you. So you’re going to Ratchet, because he needs to be sure you’re okay. You took care of him, now it’s his turn. You have to be okay.
TF Earthspark Megatron x Reader
• He can feel the judgment in Dorothy’s stare as he sits in the modified barn near the air mattress you’re sprawled on. Knows he should have let the Malto’s carry you in the house, but wanted you within sight. Within reach as his servos brush your throat and he watches Dorothy set down a tray with a bowl of soup, firmly telling him that this is the best medicine for a cold. It’s not that he doesn’t believe her, he just hates to see you so miserable, unable to help you.
• Feeling those gentle servos touching your cheek, your hair, you relax. Can hear that deep, rumbling brogue of his as you drift in and out. It’s only a cold, nothing major, but you can’t deny it’s nice to have someone worrying over you, taking care of you. Because it’s been a long time since someone’s worried over you like this, probably since you were a kid.
#transformers x reader#starscream x reader#soundwave x reader#ratchet x reader#megatron x reader#shockwave x reader#bluestreak x reader
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Like Two Sides of a Coin
alt under cut
#ghghghghghghghghgh i am so eepy rn its 6amm#in stars and time#siffrin sometimes#isat siffrin#isat#isat loop#sadfrin#favefrin#ok but i actually love this one#SHOOT I FORGOT TO TAG SPOILERS#isat spoilers
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happy birthday isat :)
this took me Wayyyy longer than i thought it would so thats why its a bit late.. ehheh.... i really like how it turned out though !! extra stuff under the cut
okay. okay im gonna get a bit sappy here. bear (🐻) with me
isat has very quickly become my favorite game of all time which is not an exaggeration. never have i played a game that felt so real in its dialogue, characterization, and character interactions. it makes it so easy to relate to them all and so difficult to pick just One favorite. it cured my art block watered my crops fed my family etc etc. i had originally bought it nearly a year ago now. on christmas day to be specific! and for some reason i didnt actually Finish the damn thing until may. and whew did it consume my every waking thought. i havent had this much fun theorizing and being part of a fandom in general in so so long. thank you adrienne for making such a wonderful game and thank you isat fandom for being so kind and friendly! i actually feel like i can make an effort to have a presence here more than anywhere else and i hope i can become closer with all my mutuals and anyone else who wants to talk about isat with me for one million years
okay enough Heres the art you came here for
first time in like. actual years i did sketch then lineart instead of just cleaning up the sketch a bunch LOL so here is the sketch for this one
the dreaded lineart. this took the longest time and i never want to draw again (joke)
self explanatory. i had an idea to add loop but do Not have the energy to execute it currently. oh well!
if you read my big big paragraph of rambling thank you :3c That is all. Im gonna go take a break from drawing for a day or two and lay on the floor
#my art#isat#in stars and time#siffrin#isat siffrin#isat odile#isat isabeau#isat mirabelle#mirabelle chevalier#isat bonnie#isat boniface
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𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍!- 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑
word count 4.8k
content warning a little bit of spiciness, false positive pregnancy mention, black reader friendly
author’s note hi. i suffered through writer’s block these past three months but BOOM mouthwashing and fanart of this fine ass man popped up on my fyp. i’ve watched two playthroughs of this game, so i hope i captured the right image of curly. oh and he’s australian here. and my requests are open!
synopsis on a study abroad trip, you meet another (handsome) study abroad student who talks his way into your heart and ends up being a key part of your life
Winter in London was not up to your standards.
You were here on a study abroad trip for your master's program. You did the whole overseas thing during one quarter during your time as an undergrad - it was a little visit to South Africa which you thoroughly enjoyed. But “travel some more,” everyone said.
After a lot of thinking, you gave in and decided to travel to the U.K. as you wanted something that felt familiar. You were wrong in so many ways - the roads followed unnecessary loops, plugs were shaped unusually, and...oh, every drink there was some sort of 'diet' or 'zero sugar' crap.
But over time, this place began to feel like a routine. It wasn't home but you were okay. You liked the opportunity to grow in your program and you liked your classmates. Everything was balanced - school, eat, chat, sleep.
Except for one particular day after your classes, a few of your classmates insisted you go to a pub with them. Something about 'getting you more exposed to the London culture'. After much pestering, you indulged.
So you found yourself at this pub but not as excited as the people who invited you. Over time, they were engulfed in their own conversations and inside jokes and you were off to the side, whiskey in front of you, own your own. It's weird to drink when the people who are supposed to have your back don't.
"Enjoying yourself?"
Oh boy, were you about to have your first unwanted encounter in London?
You look over your shoulder and see this strikingly tall man, his head full of bright hair. His shy smile
is highlighted by his stubble. Your eyes soften for a moment and the tension in your shoulders fades.
But then it returns. "I'm enjoying myself. Thank you. I'm with my...my classmates." Your tone is sharp. You gesture to your classmates, who are still in their own world.
"You're American? Are you sure these people know you?" He asks. You pause, trying to find a witty answer of your own. Part of you wanted to point out his thick accent as it wasn't as posh as the Londoners. Maybe Australian. You think for a while but you're still stuck.
"Curly." He extends his hand to you. You shake it.
"Your name is Curly?" you ask curtly. "And I'm supposed to feel bad about my situation?"
He chuckles at your response, his face settling into a smirk. "My name is Grant. Everyone just calls me Curly." He swirls his glass, eyeing the empty barstool next to you. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"
You look him over noticing his muscular build once more. "I don't mind." He swings his leg over the seat and rests his forearms on the counter. Curly takes you in for a moment. You take this time to take note of his eyes - a shade of deep blue. He's sort of cute, you think.
"So, why exactly is an American girl like you here in London?" And it all goes away. You find yourself a little annoyed with his question as it's yet another variation of the same question you've heard since you arrived here.
"You ask that like I'm not supposed to be here. It's not like the United Kingdom is some sort of war zone," you respond. He raises his right hand in defense. "I'm studying abroad for a quarter. I'm a grad student," you finally answer. "You don't sound like you're from here either. What's your deal?"
"Well, I'm here for school too." He downs the rest of his drink. "Masters too actually. I'm trying to go to space."
"Still doesn't explain the accent," you cut in.
"Well, my father's Aussie and my mother's from here. They separated years ago and I spent most of my life in Australia with my Pa and spent time with my mother when I wasn't in school. She moved to the States after the divorce. I decided I'd pursue my college education in America and have been there since."
"So you're here studying abroad as well," you state. He nods and then gestures to someone behind him. "That's Jimmy. I like to think we've been attached to the hip for the longest time."
This Jimmy he speaks of is on the opposite side of the bar, socializing. "I'm really happy we got to take this trip together. He made my breaks great. I was really bummed that the person I considered my best friend lived on the other side of the world but the great thing about adulthood is the lack of limitation."
You laugh at his comment and he gives you a confused look. "As an adult, I feel that there are so many limitations. Especially as we get older."
"Well, it's up to you if you let those limitations run your life. You have free will, you know, and...and you typically only live once." He places a hand on your arm and it slowly runs down to your elbow. Your eyes are locked now.
"My name is Y/N."
"I like that."
You like the weight of his hand and you like his eyes and you like his hair. He seems like a cute guy and he has such a cute name - Grant Curly. What a cute face.
"Hey Curly." The moment is broken by an unfamiliar voice but a familiar face. The Jimmy guy. "It's getting late and we have shit to do. You think you can stop flirting and leave now." He pauses and looks at you. "No offense."
You're taken aback and not sure of what to say but you respect him for keeping his friend in check...but maybe not with that tone. You look behind you and see that your classmates have left you. So much for adults.
"You're right. I lost track of time," Curly admits sheepishly. He looks at you first, then at Jimmy. "This is Y/N."
"Great. Nice to meet you, Y/N." You wait for a handshake or something. "Let's go now." Jimmy starts to walk away from where you're both sitting.
"Sorry about him. He's nice! I promise!" Curly rubs his neck nervously. "How are you getting home? Going back with your friends?"
"They left. I'll have to call a cab or something," you say. He looks over at Jimmy, who's exiting the pub, and then back at you. "I'll take you back home. What's your address?"
"It's okay. Your friend...he doesn't seem receptive. And besides, I can take care of myself," You answer. You start to rummage through your purse and pull out your wallet to pay for your drink. Curly gently holds your wrist. Your breath hitches at the electrifying feeling. "Let me pay for your drink and take you home," he starts, "I know you're definitely capable of taking care of yourself but it'd kill me if I left you alone."
You look away from him for a moment and think. This was your opportunity to get his number. "Okay...I'll pay for the drink and you can take me home," you offer. He shakes his head and gestures to the bartender. "Please put this lady's drink on my tab," he says. Curly pulls out his wallet, then his card, and slides it over to the bartender. You lightly slap his arm in protest. "Why would you do that?"
He just smirks at you before taking back his card and receipt. "Let's go." He offers his hand to you to help you off the barstool but you playfully swat it away before plopping off.
Curly leads you outside to the parking lot and clicks the unlock button on his keys. His friend is leaning against the car and you take note of the fact that he was rushing Curly when he didn't even own a car himself.
"What is she doing here?" He asks. "Jimmy, we're dropping her off. You think you could move to the back so the pretty lady can sit up front?" His friend asks.
Jimmy gets off of the car and mumbles something illegible under his breath. You feel bad so you say something, “He can sit-"
Curly cuts you off, "No, no, you sit down." He opens the passenger seat for you and you slide inside.
Something you noticed about the two friends was how opposite they were; Jimmy was clearly someone who didn't like too much change and you assumed that Curly lacked any anxiety. They seem to balance each other out...maybe?
As you conversed with Curly about your respective lives, you couldn't help but notice Jimmy's eyes piercing your image through the rear view mirror.
“Hi love." You feel so much relief when Curly's lips meet yours. You can't help but melt against him. It felt so good to have him in your home.
The two of you had decided to go long-distance months after you met in London. Curly was based in Colorado; his mother lived there, it was where he attended school and he loved it so much because of the snow. It seemed like whenever you called, he was on some sort of mountain or on his way there. While you were living in California, where there wasn't much of that, Curly claimed it reminded him so much of home - so he didn’t mind you living there.
After your first meeting, you regularly hung out and spoke over the phone. Sometimes you both were lucky to be alone; he'd take you out to lunch or take you to tourist sights in London. Sometimes you'd spend time in his flat and Jimmy would be there. The latter wouldn't say much but you always felt like he never really wanted you around. When he did speak to you, your conversations would start somewhat simple and then he'd say something to kill the mood.
One night as your school's study abroad program came to an end, Curly showed up at your flat without any notice. The Curly you saw that night wasn't the one you were getting to know all this time - he was much more bashful than ever. Not the type of bashful when Jimmy tries to embarrass him but bashful in the sense that he was well into his twenties, almost 30, and was struggling to find the words to confess to you. Luckily for him, he didn't need to completely contextualize as you felt the same way.
"How is work, baby?" You ask him. He came to California as it was his turn to take the flight to see you.
"Same old, same old." He started working for some space freighter company months before he met you; you only heard about it once you got back to the States. You weren't too sure about the whole thing but he was making money and getting practice for the career he really wanted.
You pull away from his chest and take his image in. "I missed you so so much." Curly pulls you closer to him so that he can kiss you again. This time it's a bit longer. He pulls away looks behind himself to find your couch and leads you to it without bumping into anything.
He sits first and invites you to crawl onto his lap. Once you're settled, he grabs your thighs and you take hold of his shoulders, kissing him again. His hands roam from your thighs to your back before finding themselves under your shirt. At the feel of your bra, he asks, "Oh, what's this?"
You feel your cheeks heating up at his playfulness. "Why don't you take my shirt off and find out?"
Taking this as permission, Curly unclasps your bra and moves his hands to your shirt; you raise your arm as he pulls the bottom of your shirt off. Once it's been discarded, your bra slightly falls off your chest and Curly does you the honor of taking it off of you.
He lets the back of his hand run lightly against your nipple and you can't help but mewl a bit. "Missed me?" He asks. You nod. "Every single day."
"I think about you a lot. At work, at home, when I'm outside. It's hard knowing that I have such a pretty darling on the other side of the country." He brings one of your breasts to his lips and wraps his lips around your nipple, where his tongue dances around. He pulls his lips away with a 'pop'. "Grant," you let out breathlessly.
"I think about doing you at my desk, on my bed, everywhere." He lowers you down on the couch and adjusts himself so that he's on top of your lower half. "I think I'll take you on this couch and maybe if you're up to it, on your island counter next, and then after-"
He's cut off by a vibration in his pocket. "Just a moment, it's probably work," he says, pulling out his phone. You notice a slight annoyance on his face when he reads the Caller ID.
"Jimmy, hi." Speak of the devil. At the sound of his name, you shuffle to sit up on the couch. Curly puts a hand out to stop you but you swat it away.
"No, Jimmy, I didn't eat your pickles. Have you tried looking around the fridge?"
You reach next to him to pull your shirt and bra out of the crevice of the couch.
"You found them- no, I landed here hours ago."
You clasp your bra and put your shirt back on.
"I'm sorry that - Jimmy!" You jump at the volume of Curly's voice. He sees this, places a hand on your knee and mouths an apology. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't call you. I just got here. I'm with my girlfriend- huh? Ok. I'll talk to you later. Bye Jimbo." He then hangs up. Curly sits back on his knees. He brushes his hair back with his hand and releases a sigh before placing both hands on his knees and looking at you. "Sorry. Just Jimmy."
"I don't like him." You give him a pointed look. You cross your arms, obviously disappointed that his idiot friend ruined your time with your man. You're aching for him but at the same time, you don't even want to fuck Curly anymore.
"I think he's a nice bloke," Curly says under his breath. You raise your eyebrows, practically asking him to speak up. "It's like you guys are the brother and sister that hate each other for fun. You'll both come around eventually."
Your face twists in disgust and you fake gag, which makes Curly laugh. "What brother is deeply in love with their sibling, you in this case?" you question, "He clearly wants me out of the way."
"No, he doesn't. He loves you!" You can see Curly's face melt into confusion. "Maybe not love you...but he likes you around?"
You scoff. "See, you don't even know yourself." You wiggle your legs from under Curly and get up off the couch. He reaches for your hand. "You don't know want to...?" He cocks his head toward the couch.
You purse your lips and shake your head no.
"So gorgeous!"
"How many karats?"
"The proposal! What was it like?"
One year and a few months after your meeting, Curly decided to propose. He took you to Australia to meet his paternal side. In truth, you were scared of those big-ass Australian spiders and whatever the hell else happened to live there but your love for Curly was stronger. The night before your flight back home, he planned a candlelight dinner for the both of you in his father's home and proposed to you - your answer obviously being 'yes!'.
Today you were at your wedding shower with all your friends - Jimmy too!
"How do you feel about getting married after just a year of knowing each other? I mean, Grant can't possibly know everything about you in a year!"
Curly's mother was a piece of work. You had met her a handful of times during your trips to Colorado and yet you couldn't seem to just get along. You were polite but she always had something to say. There was some attachment to her son but he was her only one so you let it slide.
"Well...you do know we're getting older. I fell in love with him and have been since I met him. I feel that Curly-"
"Grant. His name is Grant," she interrupts.
You take a deep breath and smile a forced one. "Grant. I feel that he and I can be mature adults and grow and learn about our marriage and what makes it work." Part of you wants to mention why her marriage didn't work out but one of had to be the bigger woman.
Mrs. Former Curly hums trying to find some witty response. "Is the Bride-to-be avoiding me?" You let out a sigh of relief and you never thought you'd do it to this particular voice.
"Jimmy! Nice to see you, hun!" Curly's mom moves past you to hug Jimmy and kiss him on the cheek. For once, Curly's friend looks cleaned up compared to the other times you've seen him.
When Curly's mom pulls away, he looks over at you. "I wanted to pull Y/N aside. Haven't gotten to properly congratulate her on the engagement. I can catch up with you before I head home," Jimmy tells her.
After the engagement, Curly decided to move in with you. It was a decision you were confused by; you were easily willing to pack up your bags and move to Colorado with him. You knew he loved the snow and his mom would probably lose his shit if he was so far but he insisted on moving in with you.
At first, he wouldn't tell you the truth, something about high housing prices and about wanting to explore more. Eventually, he told you he wanted to get away from Jimmy. He opened up to his friend about the idea of getting engaged - showed him the ring and everything. It turned into an argument about you being the right choice and Jimmy low-key insulting you. After he told you the truth, you let Curly move in before the wedding.
Over time, Jimmy apologized to Curly and even extended an apology to you and the two got closer again. Although they weren't best buddies, it didn't sit right with you how quickly Curly took Jimmy back as a friend. Maybe Mrs. Former Curly was on to something.
"How have you been, Jimmy? Has living alone served you well?" You ask. He makes a funny face at you. Were you making a dig at him?
"It's fine. I actually got a new roommate. He's pretty chill. Keeps to himself." Jimmy avoids eye contact for a second. "How's living with Curly? I know he's ecstatic but are you?"
Living with Curly was great, especially when Jimmy was briefly out of your lives; uninterrupted cuddles, uninterrupted dinner, uninterrupted sex. You were living the life!
Instead, you answer, "Living with Curly is great. He's lovely. He's the best roommate and fiancé I could ever ask for."
Jimmy's trying to keep a light demeanor but he truly couldn't. "You know, I hope you're really right about that. Hopefully, he doesn't drop you like a sack of potatoes...although, I hope he does. I really really hope he does. You don't deserve any of this."
Your face drops and for once he's left you silent. Jimmy smirks when he realizes he's really hurt you. "Congratulations again, princess," he says before walking off.
You feel your body buzzing and you just want to cry but everyone - your family, friends, Curly - are all gawking over you and you don't want to set any alarms off. You want to find Curly but you know at the sight of him, you'd burst into tears.
You eventually find the strength to walk out of the party - passing by with polite 'excuse me's and 'just a moment's. You take a moment to feel the breeze. It picks up and your breath struggles but once it slows down, an entire weight is off your shoulders.
You decide to sit in the car. A tired heavy sigh escaped you. You noticed your fiancé left his winter jacket in the car and used it as a blanket.
For a moment, you wanted to cry but you had all this makeup and didn't want others to realize that you were upset. But besides that, you didn’t have the urge. Why couldn’t you cry?
You chalked it up to space. You needed to be away from Curly's petty mom. You needed to be away from Jimmy and his weird attachment to your fiancé. You both needed space for this whole thing to work out.
A shadow hovers over the window and you turn your head to see Curly, who lifts his finger to knock on the window. You open the passenger seat door and before allowing him to speak, you start first.
"Sit."
He doesn't argue and walks around the car to sit in the driver's seat. "Babe, what's going-"
"I can't do this, Grant." You can see his eyes and panicking and his mouth trying to find the right words. He grabs your hands and lets out an incoherent version of "but I love you" and other things you couldn't catch on.
You shush him and it takes him a while to quiet. You place a hand on his cheek. "I don't want to say my vows in front of people who are wishing on our downfall. You know what Jimmy said to me tonight?"
His eyes go from saddened to worry and then a building. "I knew it. I shouldn't have - what did he say to you?!"
You place a finger on his lip, quieting him again. "Grant, baby, please. We'll deal with him later. I want to go to the courthouse and marry you. I want to say the vows I wrote for you there. And then after, I want to eat a burger or something...something greasy and salty as hell, and then after that I..." You move your finger from his lips down to his chest and then even lower.
"You want to...?" He's playing coy.
You move his finger away from his pants and slap his chest, which makes him release an "oof". "I want Jimmy and your mom to suck it and let us have our moment," you say. You watch his face as he starts to think (he has this cute thinking face that you can't help but melt for).
"Ok. Deal." Curly kisses the corner of your lip. "Can you come inside now? Everyone's worried." You kiss his cheek now and chuckle an 'ok'.
Back at the party, everything felt fine. You had your friends and family to cheer you on and your amazing fiancé who loved you more than life. It was toward the end of the night you felt a shift.
You were catching up with another friend when you observed Curly walking Jimmy outside. After a few moments, it was just Curly that returned.
"They want you to do what for how long?"
"It's just a year, baby." He was still with this Pony Express bullshit. "It's nothing we haven't done before. Think of the other times as practice.”
He was doing space deliveries in a span of a few days or even hours to the International Space Station....when he could be working up there.
A part of you felt bad for complaining but the money with good. With your income combined, you were able to buy your first home. You had the most spacious dining room and connected kitchen. It helped with family gatherings, dinners with friends, and hard conversations like these.
"Why can't you get like...I don't know...a real job at like NASA?"
He slams his hand on the table. "It is a real job like NASA!"
You're startled - you can't think of one time he has ever raised his voice at you. Your utensils clutter against the plate and you get up, pushing the chair back with your legs. “Y/N, babe, sorry-” he tries.
You ignore him and leave the dining room, your shared bedroom being your target. Curly’s pleadings and footsteps can be heard behind you.
You reach your bedroom and Curly places a hand on your shoulder. It stops you from walking away from him again. He counters you and now both hands are holding your shoulders. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I know I never yell at you.” His right hand moves from your shoulder to your cheek. “I’m really really sorry. I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you.”
You blink and your face scrunches up trying to stop yourself from crying, which you fail. Curly brings you in and holds you.
“Grant, I can’t do it. I can’t do a year,” you sob, “And with all the negative tests…I can’t do it. I need you here with me.”
The both of you were trying for a baby but haven’t been lucky. Just a lot of no’s and one false positive - that was the one that hurt the most. The excitement was immediately gone when your doctor told you there wasn’t anything to begin with.
So it was back to Square one and other options.
But this year's mission had thrown a wrench in your plans.
Curly leads you over to the bed and has you sit down. He kneels in front of you and takes your hand. “Listen, it’s some quick cash. A lot of money. When I get back, I’ll quit. I’ll find something else. And we can focus on ourselves and our family. I’ll make it happen. It’s a promise.”
There’s so much hope in his eyes. He sticks out his pinky finger, indicating that he is serious in his own lighthearted way. You hug him instead.
"So who's the lucky girl?"
Curly looks up and sees Swansea, who's pointing at the gold ring on his left hand.
"Oh!" He turns red at the thought of you. "My wife is back home. I didn't realize how hard it would be - being this far from her. We actually dated long distance for the longest time but yet, I can't shake the unusual feeling in me."
“Your wife…” The older man thinks for a moment. “Oh! The one that pulled you to the side to give you an earful!” He lets out this belly laugh and it goes on for quite a long time. Curly takes a deep sigh, letting his shoulders drop. Swansea slaps his left shoulder, perking him up again. “Yeah, I miss that too.”
Curly was about a month into this delivery trip. He stopped counting the days because it made him miss you more. He just wanted to blink and be home so that he could hold you in his arms and apologize a hundred times over.
You both got into an argument when you found out that Jimmy once again found a way to be in Curly’s space.
One night, Curly got back-to-back calls that he kept ignoring. “Just pick up please so we can sleep,” you tiredly snapped. He chuckled at your annoyance and kissed your forehead before complying.
You didn’t find out until you saw Curly off at work before the start of the mission.
“Are you kidding me? Don’t tell me he was the one calling!” You exclaimed. Curly looks back at his crew who are feet away saying bye to their own families or prepping the ship. “Can you please-”
“No! No, no, no, no,” you hold a finger in front of his face. “Why is he there? I tell you all the time - I don’t like him and I don’t like the influence he had, or I guess has in this case, on you-”
“He needed a job! He needed some help. Things aren’t good on his end. He’s a damn good pilot. He just…he just needs the right push.” His blue eyes hold so much sympathy. You loved your husband’s compassion for others but when it came to Jimmy - after all the times he made it clear you weren’t welcomed - you just wished Curly had a little bit of backbone.
There’s still so much anger and disappointment in you but you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.
“I hope it all works out and that your boy succeeds. Good luck, Captain.”
You raise both hands in defeat and start to walk away from Curly. This is your last image of him before you fully turn around. He says your name once but doesn’t follow you.
#mouthwashing#captain curly#curly mouthwashing#curly x reader#mouthwashing x reader#captain curly x reader#black reader#black yn#curly x reader mouthwashing
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jinx x reader where she tries to distract them from studying?
ur writing is so good btw <3
Jinx x Reader scenario where she distracts you with her crazy antics:
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You were sitting at your desk, papers everywhere as you tried to focus on the mountain of homework in front of you. The clock ticked louder than usual, the seconds crawling by like you were stuck in some weird time loop. You could feel your brain slowly turn to mush from reading the same thing over and over.
And then, as if on cue, a loud bang came from your window. You jumped in your seat, heart racing. You turned, ready to yell at whoever was being loud outside, but there she was—Jinx, standing in the open window, holding a rubber chicken and looking entirely too pleased with herself.
“Boo!” she yelled, making you jump again. “What’s up, bookworm? You’re not actually studying, are you? You’re gonna burn your brain out if you keep staring at that thing for too long!” She tossed the chicken up in the air, catching it with one hand while dramatically winking at you.
You groaned, rubbing your eyes. “Jinx, I have to finish this. I have a test tomorrow!”
She hopped into your room like she owned the place, twirling the chicken around like it was some kind of weapon. “Pssh, tests are dumb. Why study when you could be, I dunno, throwing things off the roof?” She giggled and pointed to your window, eyes shining with mischief. “Bet I can throw this chicken farther than you can throw… a book or something.”
You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore her. “I’m not throwing a book out the window, Jinx.”
“Pft, boring!” She skipped over to your desk and started knocking papers off with exaggerated gestures. “Okay, okay, new idea! I’ve got a million of ‘em. What if you could trade any piece of knowledge you have for something totally useless, like… a lifetime supply of rubber bands or a pet giraffe?”
You stared at her like she’d lost her mind, but she didn’t even notice. She was already spinning in circles, bouncing off your chair. “Would you pick the giraffe or the rubber bands? You gotta decide!”
“Jinx—”
“And what if the giraffe was secretly a genius?” she continued, completely ignoring you. “It could teach you all kinds of super smart stuff, like how to juggle five balls at once or how to ride a unicycle while solving a Rubik’s Cube!” She laughed hysterically at her own joke. “Imagine that! A genius giraffe, teaching you!”
You leaned back in your chair, trying to focus despite the absolute chaos she was creating. “You’re seriously not gonna let me study, are you?”
She dropped onto your bed, still grinning. “Nope! Nope! Not gonna happen! C’mon, who needs boring old textbooks when you’ve got me around? I’m way more fun, right? I bet you haven’t had a single cool moment all day!” She pulled a rubber band from her pocket, snapped it at your ear, and then quickly hid behind your chair, waiting for your reaction.
You sighed, fighting a smile. “You’re crazy. I need to finish this.”
“Okay, okay!” She sat up straight, crossing her arms with a dramatic huff. “How about this? I’ll really leave you alone. But only if you answer my super-duper important question!”
You gave her an exhausted look. “What question?”
“Would you rather fight one giant chicken or a hundred regular-sized chickens? And you can’t say both, ‘cause that’s cheating!” She pointed a finger at you like it was a life-or-death decision.
You stared at her in disbelief. “Jinx, this is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Pick!” she demanded, her face lighting up like she was asking about the meaning of life. “Time’s ticking! You gotta choose, or else I’ll make you listen to me sing the Chicken Dance for the next hour.”
You groaned. “Fine! One giant chicken. Happy?”
She squealed, jumping up and down. “YES! You’re a genius! I knew you had it in you!” She took a deep breath and did an over-the-top victory dance, kicking papers off your desk in the process. “You’ve earned a break now! No more studying for you! Come on, we’re gonna have fun!”
You stared at the mess she made and the chaotic whirlwind that was Jinx. Maybe studying could wait just a little longer.
#jinx posting#jinx arcane#jinx x reader#jinx league of legends#arcane imagine#arcane x reader#arcane headcanon
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If they actually do “Jayce has been stuck in a time loop” in Arcane Act 3, once I’ve stopped screaming, expect a meta breakdown (AND a mental breakdown) of the elements of Puella Magi Madoka Magica influence I’ve been noticing around the edges of Arcane S2.
I haven’t been quite able to put my finger on it until after Act 2 dropped, but the use of certain textures like when the Wild Rune went nuts in 2.03 reminded me of the animation in Madoka (also Spiderverse of course), and there’s also the Shurima choral rift in To Ashes and Blood which definitely invoked the Madoka soundtrack song “Magia” for me, and of course, if Jayce did show up looking like a bad guy because he’s the only one who knows about the future they need to prevent, that would be a plot arc straight out of Homura’s arc in Madoka. They even share some themes already, specifically the Arcane themes stated by Singed and Viktor in Act 2 that humanity’s love for one another is what drives their greatest atrocities.
I’m still doing my level best (which is not very good) not to get too excited about a theory that hasn’t been proven yet. But Madoka Magica was also a massively influential animated work in recent years so it wouldn’t be crazy if it had an impact on the Arcane creators. And it might be my top favorite take on time loops, how a normal person becomes a chosen one, that I’ve ever seen. So if the parallels do pan out I will probably combust with joy?
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george russell is interviewed during the press conference on media day, las vegas - november 20, 2024 (transcript under the cut)
Interviewer: "George, let's come to you now. Brazil last time out seemed like a missed opportunity for you and Mercedes. What lessons were learned?" George: "Yeah, it definitely felt like a missed opportunity. I think, having reviewed the race, you recognize how quickly things can change, and we made the pit stop, which with the perfect benefit of hindsight, that was incorrect. But had that virtual safety car stayed for ten seconds longer or fifteen seconds longer it would have been absolutely the right thing to do. So it just shows how quickly an external decision can change your race and how you need to be very quick to adapt to that, and we kind of were a little bit too focused on that pit stop and not actually seeing that a car that was beached on the road was being pushed off and the VSC was ending." Interviewer: "And how much encouragement do you take from the pace of the car in Brazil; the front row start? I mean, you've had a stack of points finishes since the summer break, but how close are you to having a race winning car again? George: "I mean, Brazil was definitely a bit of a one-off, I think. When it rains, it presents opportunities, and for ourself it was an opportunity. For everyone at Alpine it was a huge opportunity, which they capitalized. And I think we need to look back to the sprint qualifying and the sprint race for a bit of a fairer picture of where we are, and that was behind the front four teams. Interviewer: "George, final one: When you look at this season as a whole, look at the races you've won, but look at also the frustrations as well, how will you review the season?" George: "I think now we've done almost a full season, we totally understand why the car is so up and down. It has just such a narrow window, and when we can set the car up in a way that we exploit that window, we have a race winning car. But when you go to different circuits and you have to change where you position the set-up, we totally fall outside of our working window. So it's obviously frustrating when you know the car has that potential, but I think for everyone you have these fluctuations in performance. We've done a good job to capitalise on races that we did, had the pole positions when the car was capable of pole positions, and ultimately we just need to make a more consistent car over the course of 24 races." Interviewer: "Alright. Thanks to all three of you. Let's now open this to the floor, to the broadcasters first. David."
Journalist: "David Croft, Sky Sports F1. George, to you and with your GPDA hat on, please. In between the last race and this, the FIA have dispensed with the services of Niels Wittich, the Race Director. Is this something that the GPDA were aware of before it happened? Are you concerned that there are three races to go and we now have a new Race Director, especially coming in to a street race like Las Vegas, which we saw last year can have a whole load of unforeseen problems?" George: "Yeah, we definitely weren't aware. It was a bit of a surprise, I think, for everybody, and it's a hell of a lot of pressure now onto the new Race Director; just three races left. So I think for us… Often, as drivers, we probably feel like we're the last to find out this sort of information, and when it involves us kind of directly it would be nice to sort of be kept in the loop and just have an understanding of what decisions are being made. So yeah, time will tell. I'm sure the new guy will handle the position just fine, but definitely not an easy race for a new race director." Interviewer: "Okay. Thanks George. Yep, next one." Journalist: "Nelson Valkenburg, Viaplay. Also for George, but I'd love for you both to chime in, as well. Last week, a pointed statement from the GPDA towards the FIA and especially towards the President. The tone seemed stronger than I expected. Does that reflect the mood in the field of drivers, as well?" George: "I mean, talking as a fellow driver, as opposed to sort of my role with the GPDA, I think everybody felt, with certain things that have happened over the course of this year, that we wanted to sort of stand united. At the end of the day, we just want to be transparent with the FIA and have this dialogue that is happening, and I think the departure of Niels is also a prime example of not being a part of these conversations.
And, ultimately, we want to work with the FIA to make the best for the sport that we all love, so I think it's kind of us now putting the pressure back on them to work with us and work with everyone, including F1 as well, just to maximize this opportunity which Formula 1 is in at the moment, which is an amazing time to be a part of." [time jump] Journalist: "Diego Mejia, Fox Sports. Question to George: I think that the GPDA created an Instagram account to publish this letter. Is there going to be a different way of… Was there a need to make things more public now from the GPDA side when creating this more public forum?" George: "Yeah, well I think times are changing and the fans are a huge part of this sport, and I think if we're talking about openness and transparency and including everybody in this for the greater good, then having it on a social media platform makes perfect sense." Interviewer: "David?" Journalist: "David Croft, Sky Sports. Sorry, George, GPDA public forum, this one. Did you and the GPDA think that the Race Director needed replacing?" George: "I mean, I can only talk on behalf of myself here, as opposed to any of the other drivers, but… Yeah, I think there's no secret that some were not happy with what was going on, in terms of the decisions that were being made. But, at the end of the day, I think if you worked together with us, that we could have helped improve the matter, and I think sometimes just hiring and firing is not the solution. You kind of need to work together to improve the problem. So let's see what this new sort of era is going to bring, but every time there is a change, you have to take one step back before you make the two steps forwards."
#george russell#f1#formula 1#las vegas gp 2024#fic ref#fic ref 2024#las vegas#las vegas 2024#las vegas 2024 wednesday#esteban ocon#kevin magnussen
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I have a Daedra OC and before you label me as cringe and take me out back to give me a quick and painless death HEAR ME OUT
So controversial take, but I don't think Tiber Septim/Talos is an Aedra, because he didn't make the core sacrifice that the original Eight did. However, I do believe he achieved CHIM and ascended because he was, at his core, a child born of Akatosh. And because of that birthright, I believe when Tiper Septim ascended as Talos, he became a Patron God beneath Akatosh.
I don't think it's a stretch to say that any Dragonborn could theoretically achieve CHIM. The requirements of achieving it are committing an act of love for Nirn and its people so great that it changes the landscape of time. As a Dragonborn, with a soul bestowed by Akatosh, like Tiber Septim, if one stayed a pure course it might even be the ultimate culmination of their service.
Gear switch: we know that the Daedric Princes, specifically Hermaeus Mora & Mephala, are frightened by entities that can fundamentally re-weave the Aurbis: see Ithelia. It's been suggested by ESO that Mora kept Miraak sanctioned for similar reasons: he was simply too powerful. His return would unweave critical threads of fate. Why?
Miraak's return would be an act of great hatred that would fundamentally change the landscape of time. If he had returned in the second era, he could have and likely would have killed Tiber Septim. Of course Mora would be afraid of this, because if an act of timeless love causes one to ascend, an act of timeless hatred could cause one to descend.
Do I think this descent would grant the descendant the same power as a Daedric Prince? No, just like Talos is a lesser Aedric God, this would be a lesser Daedric God, and what level of power and influence they hold would entirely depend on what method was used to descend.
For example; my OC Naome was created from fragments of its origin's soul shattered across thousands of time loops. Because of this, it's not a conscious descent of its origin, more so a mass of energy, similar to a poltergeist. It has a plane of Oblivion, but this plane is an extension of Mephala's sphere. It has little to no influence over the mortal world.
But that's not to say that more powerful methods could not be used. Taking my Miraak example, killing Tiber Septim would almost certainly cause a Dragon Break. An act like that could theoretically produce an entity closer to Talos in nature.
This is all mostly theory based, but I wanted some actual lore behind it if I was going to create a Daedra character. Hopefully this kinda makes some sense.
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(Mirabelle) (Thai belongs to @lavender-tea-dragon)
(You cut down the next sadness with ease, your sword slicing through it like butter. You step back, panting, that was the, seventh? Eighth? Glancing around, you can see Isa and Ramos back to back, Odile being helped up by Bonnie, Nille protecting them both, and-)
"MIRA!!"
(You turn, a sadness was rushing at you-)
(In a blink it was sliced clean in half. Siffrin, well, Null, landed a few feet in front of it, his new sword in hand, smiling. Actually, this might be the first time you've seen him smile.)
"T-thanks Null! Having fun?"
"No." (He said, still smiling.) "I never have fun."
"Heh, of course! Oh! lower your stance a little, leg to the-"
(You hear a protest from Odile.) "Now is not the time Mirabelle!"
(You and Null nod at each other, then dive again into the fight.)
(You had made it to Wolworth, and not a moment too soon! You were walking down the road when Null suddenly started running. "Stage time" was all he said. After a very winding sprint, you got here in time to see a wave of sadness storming the city gate.)
(There were SO MANY!!!)
(You throw a scissors sign, your sparkly discs of light slicing into another sadness. The one saving grace here was that these sadness were comically weak! B-but even then, you had to fight the off!! You might not get hurt but if even one makes it in-)
"How ya doing Mira!" (Isabeau yells) "I'm on about eight!"
"Six, here!" (Ramos adds, cracking a fist into another sadness.)
"Are y'really keeping track?!?" (Nille raised an eyebrow, keeping a sadness away from Bonnie and Odile.)
"Of course!" (Isa smiles.) "It's for the competitive spirit."
(You giggle, at least your friends could help make light of it all! You turn to face another sadness, but an arrow pierces it before you can attack. Someone at the gate was holding a bow and a satisfied grinn. You wave.)
(There was a small militia in Wolworth, just a group of everyday people who would come running to fight sadness, but they were overwhelmed when you showed up. Just behind that gate were half a dozen people nursing wounds. Change, they must all be so brave.)
(The wave was thinning out, you stab another, duck back, Null jumps in to strike. It was exhilarating and exhausting. By the time the last sadness fell, your dress was a mess and the tip of your sword felt dulled.)
(You're panting, look around, make sure it's all clear.) ". . Everyone alright!?!"
"Good here!"
"Alive!"
"Tired but great!"
"Safe!!!!!"
"I'm okay."
". . . Well done." (Null sheethed the sword and walked over to you.) "Saving the day yet again with no. . . Urgh-"
(Nulls knees buckled and he collapsed to all fours, breathing heavily. You rushed to his side, healing ready. You heard the others thunder over too.) "A-are you okay?!? Craft exhaustion??"
"Y-yeah-" (He was gasping for air, you got a small tonic out and handed it to him.)
"How many times did you loop just now?" (Odile asks, you could see the worry hidden behind her eyes.)
"Only, two times." (Null drinks down the tonic.) "First, got here late. Many wounded, had to, try again."
(Isa offers a hand, Null takes it, getting back up. Odile squints at him.) ". . . And the second?"
". . . Wanted to look cool."
"Null!!"
"You CRAB!!!
"Haha!!! That's a TERRIBLE idea!"
"Hey! Look alive." (Ramos gets your attention, they're pointing to the city. Right! Call Null Siffrin in front of other people. None of them want that secret getting out after all.)
(Now that the sadness were cleared, some of that city militia were coming to check the aftermath. One had an arm in a sling, another with a bandage on their head, you noticed one was still sitting at the gate, leg in a cast. You see that person with a bow running up to you all.)
"Change I'm glad you all showed up when you did." (The bowman said. She had a heavy jacket and messy darkless hair. She had a sword and shield at the ready, as well as her longbow and arrows over her shoulder. She had bonding earings, too, a snake and a darkless bird.) "Ha! the saviors of Vaugarde themselves coming to save the city, haha!"
"All in a days work!" (Isa said with a smile.)
"I-I'm just glad we made it on time!!" (You walk up to her, still tired, but smiling.) "I-is everyone okay?!?"
"Just some booboos, some real big booboos, but nothing major. What about him?" (She gestured past you to Null.)
"Oh I'm just tired." (Null started.) "Don't worry about-"
"Siffrin here is suffering from acute craft exhaustion." (Odile cuts him off.) "Is there a doctor or someone we could see for medicine?"
"Ha!" (She grinned.) "I know people like that. Sure, there's a medhouse in town, closer to the Wolworth House of Change."
"HEY! ARK!" (One of the other fighters came running over with a limp. He had partially dyed hair and darker skin, they were wearing a striped apron. His bonding earings matched hers.) "Who won!"
"Oh yeah!" (She, Ark? Turned to Isa.) "How many ya get?"
"Oh! I got ten! Ha."
"CRAB YEAH!!!" (The newcomer replied.) "No way anyone could beat that!!"
"Twelve." (Odile replies flatly.) "I guess I'm not anyone."
"COME ON!" (The newcomer pouted and crossed his arms.)
"Told you, Thai." (Ark looked smug, holding out a hand.) "Don't underestimate a book. Pay up-"
(Null coughs into a hand, attention at him.) ". . . Seventeen."
"WHAT?!?"
"NO CRABBIN' WAY!!"
"HAHA!!! YES!!! THAT'S MY BUDDY!!!"
(Thai gave Ark a smug look right back and put his money pouch back. You couldn't help but giggle.)
". . . Aren't you two bonded?" (Bonnie squints at them.) "You'd just have the same amounta money."
"It's about PRIDE! Kid!!" (Thai jeers back. Uhoh.)
"'M NOT A KID!!!" (Bonnie got all big and tall, ready to fight this stranger before Ark got between them both.)
"OH HOW RUDE OF ME I DIDN'T INRODUCE MYSELF! Ahem- My name's Ark (she/her), I help organize-" (Thai punches her in the shoulder) "Ow- Right. I'm in charge of this little group of guards-on-demand."
"Guards on demand?!?" (Thai crosses their arms.) "PUH-LEASE. We kicked their crabbin sadness butts!!!"
"How's the leg." (Ark grinned, Thai winced, still limping, point proven.)
"FINE Whatever. Oh, uh, I'm Thai (he/they), I'm just a tea guy who likes kicking sadness in the face!!" (Thai strikes a heroic pose.)
"Tea?" (Null perked up.)
"YEAH!!! The Tea-vern!! Toughest place in town with the BEST tea IN VAUGARDE!!!"
"Ooooh that's fighting words." (You say jokingly.) "I've had some really really good tea before!"
"We'll I'll make it BETTER!!"
"O-kaaaay we wont keep you guys any longer." (Ark interrupts, putting a hand on Thai.) "We got to clean up the place, thanks again, all of you."
"Thank you all so much!" (You wave goodbye as you head into town.)
"HEY IF Y'LIKE TEA COME BY TO THE TEA-VERN!!" (You hear Thai yell after you.)
(Well, that was a very warm welcome!)
(The city of Wolworth had nice cobblestone streets with a few carts and sturdy looking houses. From what you remember it was built by an architect who wanted to build a city to last, and it did!)
"Ah Wolworth. . ." (Ramos sighed and smiled as you walked through the main gate.) "Can't get rid of me that easily."
"Glad to be back? (Nille asks.)
"Yeah! Can't wait to see Eri again, I hope they're doing good without me!"
"Your guardian, right?" (Null asked. rubbing his head.) "Memory."
"No you're right! Eri! Last letter I sent them was around, well, the King stuff."
"It'll be a reunion to celebrate then!" (Isa cheers.)
"What about 'Frin?" (Bonnie pipes up, poking Null in the side.)
"Right! Well, we should get him to the medical house, but. . ." (You rub your chin, thinking.) ". . . I-Isa could you help me get Sif there? You all go on ahead an meet Mx. Eri!"
"Fine by me." (Null nods.)
"Aww, I wanted to meet 'em sooner but that's okay!" (Isa beams.) "Sifs health comes first!"
"That should be fine." (Ramos nods.) "We'll have the house all ready for you too. Heh."
"Perfect! I'm sure they'll be glad to see you, Ramos!" (You patted them on the back.) "I think we're going opposite directions, right?"
"Yep! You go that way to the House of Change, and the medhouse will be around there. But we're going this way!" (Ramos couldnt wait, and was already walking, jogging off.)
"WAIT UP YOU CRAB!!!" (Bonnie chased them.)
"LANGUAGE- Oh we'll see you guys later, K?" (Nille waves and runs after.)
"Gems. . ." (Odile sighed.) "I thought we were done with the running."
"Cardio is good for you M'dame!" (Isa says encouragingly. Odile just rolled her eyes and chased after the others.)
(The three of you started off in the other direction. It wasn't far, but, it was just far enough to give you a chance to talk about The Thing.)
". . . . S-so!" (You cough into a hand.) "Null, M-mind if I ask about. . . W-well. . . The Ramos thing?"
(Null looks at you and huffs.) "With Siffrin?"
"Yes. With, Siffrin."
"I've been, meaning to ask about that too actually." (Isa adds, he sounded sheepish.) "I promised not to pry but Ramos' really anxious about it."
"Right." (Null breathes in, and out.) "We have reached an agreement, as a Constellation."
"Oh?"
"Yeah?"
(Null nods.) "Mhm. Myself, Mal, and Loop have until we meet and get to know Eri to prove Ramos is a danger."
(You listen intently, Null continues.) "That deadline gives us time to get to know Ramos more, and meeting Eri will help confirm if Ramos is a good person. After that, Siffrin can do whatever they want."
"Right." (You nod. You saw the medhouse come into view.) "So, we'll find out soon, right?"
"Mhm" (Null sighs.) "And you're fine with it, Isabeau?"
"Huh? Oh yeah! I'm fine with it." (He was smiling ear to ear.) "Pretty excited actually!"
". . . Good."
(You walked up to the small one story building with a little tilted plus on the door, there was a little porch out the front. The medical house was just up the street from the House of Change.)
"Here we are! Ready, Sif?" (You turn and ask.)
(Null looked exhausted, but he smiled.) ". . . Ready as ever."
"That's the spirit." (Isa smiled at him.)
"Alright, let's go!" (You turn to the door and open it.)
(The inside was a little waiting room. A desk, a few chairs, and some random books. There was a couple of people here already, one had a doctors coat with some papers. The other had a vest, dark hair, bonding earings, and-)
"It's you!!!"
(Perci turns to you, the shock on his face was obvious. Your reach for your sword-)
"O-OH!! Yes I'm sorry for running out on our get together but I just had to check on my bonded!!" (Perci interupts anything you were about to say, he turned back to the doctor.) "A-and, you're sure they'll be alrght?"
"I'm positive, Mr. Monet. She just needs a few more days rest."
"Oh change, thank you, you've put my heart at rest. ." (He's smiling, normalcy intact.)
(He turns to exit, pausing a second. You see him very clearly and purposfuly put his hands into his vest pockets, one of them was bandaged. You take your hand away from your sword and step to the side. He waits a second, then walks past the three of you.)
"We can catch up outside." (You hear him whisper.)
(. . . What was HE doing here.)
"Friend of yours?" (The doctor asks.)
"Somewhat." (You reply simply- Oh crab.) "B-but enough of that. Could you help us? My friend here's suffering from craft exhaustion."
"A second case in so many days?" (The doctor chuckled.) "People need to remember to take crafts slow."
". . Haha, yeah, I know, right?" (Isa tries livening up the tone, helping Null over to the doctor. He glances at you, and nods. You nod back.)
(You pause for a second, the doctor lead them away. You do the Siffrin thing; breathe in. . . And out. . . You turn to the door, turn the handle, and walk out.)
(. . . . Perci was standing on the porch to the right. A soft 'tink tink tink' of metal eminated from a 3d puzzle he was focused on. It was the kind where you were supposed to untangle two things of metal spaghetti from each other.)
(. . . Well he could read your mind, right? didn't you want to talk?)
(. . . He's still focused on the puzzle. Well, fine then. You cough.)
(His head bolts up to look at you. Now that you weren't about to stab him through the chest, you could see the bags under his eyes. He sighs.) ". . Lady Mirabelle."
"Mister Monet." (You reply, taking a step forward.) "You have a lot to answer for you, you crab!"
(He raises an eyebrow, then looks back to the puzzle as he talks.) "Ahaa. . . I'm sure you think I do. . . How's Siffrin? Not sick I hope."
". . . They're fine." (You huff, and look out from the porch.) "It's craft exhaustion, they haven't fully recovered from your friendly scuffle."
"Ah, yes." (Perci pauses again.) ". . . Merlon was very cross with me about that when she woke up. She was not a fan of that loophole I used- ah, pun not intended."
"Hmph." (You don't look at him. 'Loophole', yes, exhausing Null half to death in that fight. Wait, when they woke up?) "Is something wrong with Merlon?"
"Ah. . Yes. She's also been recovering from craft exhaustion since that fight." (He sighs.) "That skill they used was one they never used before. It nearly killed her."
". . . ." (Are you lying to me, Perci?)
". . . ." (He still doesn't respond, the only sound that came from him was the tinking of metal.)
". . . And, so they're still recovering?"
"Yes, she is." (Tink tink tink.) "Transporting matter from one point to another takes an incredible amount of energy. Energy that she didn't have."
"That's. . . Hard to believe." (You were trying to keep calm. It was very, very hard to believe. If Sif can- wait stop thinking! He can still read your mind, right. . ? Or. . .) ". . Can't you read my mind, Perci?"
"Hm?" (He looks up again, then down to the puzzle.) "Oh! Well, yes? But you don't need to worry about that right now."
(He holds up the puzzle.) "A word to the wise if you learn Mind Craft, find something to focus your attention on. If I let my mind wander it will eventually wander to all the minds around me. Imagine hearing the inner monolog of every person around you at once. A puzzle like this, though? A wonderful way to focus."
"Oh!" (You perk up, mind clicking like said puzzle.) "So you really are being honest with me?"
"Of course" (He smiled, back to the puzzle.) "Why wouldn't I- oh dear don't tell me I left such a bad impression you think me a dishonest man."
"You are a dishonest man!"
"Lady Mirabelle, I promise I'm no such- aha!"
(With one last clink, he undoes the two bits of the puzzle, before happily starting to put it together again.)
(You huff.) "Alright, fine. If we're being honest with each other then, then, just know I don't trust you, Perci."
". . . I see." (Perci sighs, pausing a moment again before replying.) "I won't pretend like I can get that trust back. But, I would at least like you to know I'm really not an evil or dishonest man."
". . . I understand." (You sigh, letting yourself relax.) "I. . . It'll be hard to trust you. But, I'll believe that you're not evil." (Not like the King. . .)
". . . Thank you. Aha, actually." (He holds up the bandaged hand.) "Did you know about that little side effect of mind craft? Or did you get lucky in our fight."
"Side effect?" (You tilt your head.) ". . . If that's the wound from our fight, that should have been healed weeks ago."
"Good eye." (He nods, flexing his his hand and wincing.) "Advanced mind craft requires skin to skin contact; it's a connection of the nerves. If you use mind craft a lot like I do, the nerves on where you connect with mind craft become more sensitive over time. And for me, it's my hands."
". . . Oh." (You remember back to that day, how you struck his hand, and how he couldn't hold his sword, afterwards.) ". . S-sorry."
"Don't be, we were fighting after all." (He chuckles.) "But yes, my hands are very sensitive. My swords handles are specially made to be easy on the hands, and I really should get gloves too, but. . ."
"No you should, that sounds like a great idea! For everyone." (You giggle to yourself.)
(He laughs back, and clicks the two pieces of the puzzle back together. He held it out to you.) "Lady Mirabelle, I promise that, until my bonded has recoverd, I will not cause what you consider trouble."
(You look at his outstretched hand holding the puzzle, then to him. There's a quiet, uncomfortable pause.)
". . . Ah! Right." (He chukles, and places the puzzle on the banister, NOW you take it. Looking over, he's already pulled out a new one.) ". . So, deal?"
". . . Fine." (You huff.) "I don't like you, Mr. Monet, but I'll try and trust you here. It would be nice to have a few days without worrying about trouble."
"Ahaha, I imagine. I heard about the dramatics outside the gate. Oh! What brings you to Wolworth, by the way?"
"Oh!" (You look at him, smile on your face again.) "We're actually visiting Eri! Ramos' guardian! Once Siffrin's better we're meeting up, at. . ."
(Your voice trails off. Perci is looking at you, mouth open with a mix of shock and horror.)
(You tilt your head.) ". . . .Is, something wrong."
"You. . ." (You can see him struggling to keep his mask in place, but it slipped. It slipped just enough to see the sorrow behind it. He looks away.)
"You, you don't know. . ?"
#:)#welcome to act 3 proper#isat#in stars and time#art#isat art#siffrin system au#isat au#isat fanart#sifstem#isat spoilers#isat siffrin#isat mirabelle#isat isabeau#ALSO MORE FRIEND CHARACTERS YAY#isat null#isat oc#isat ramos#ark#thai#isat perci#isat fanfic
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I HATE when a brand I genuinely like and want to keep in the loop with chases me away with how frequent their emails are. Like I enjoy your brand! I didn’t unsubscribe immediately because I really DO want to know about new releases.
But tell me ONCE and then fuck off. You could have sent me one email a fortnight or even a week, and I would’ve tolerated it. But you got greedy and so now I will receive NO emails.
If this is how something who genuinely WANTED the emails feels, I can only imagine what the vast majority of people who get them from just one purchase feel. Who told brands this was a good idea? You are actively pushing consumers away with 2+ emails a week. I work for a company now that I’ve been a member of for YEARS. And they heavily rely on direct email marketing. We put SO MUCH time and effort into all the email designs.
I’ve been unsubscribed from them for 9 years. You’ve been in my spam folder for centuries it feels like. … do you collect any data to prove that this ACTUALLY works?
#unfortunately this is about holo taco I’m sorry#I tried#you’ve told me about the under flow collection 5 times#please leave me alone#but this goes for every other brand I promise there are many
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I don't know if this has already been asked before but has Stcmo Ford ever had to intervene in a world where Stanley took the journel(where that world's Ford wasn't sent through the portal) and planned for it to be the last thing he'd ever do before dying?
As he was trudging through the snow back to his car, Stan couldn't help but hear Ford's words play on an endless loop in his head, drowning out everything else. Stan had wanted so badly to shove the journal back at Ford after his brother had branded him, but he couldn't. Ford was right, he was always right.
So he kept the fucking diary and stormed out.
Ford didn't follow, so Stan must've said something about giving in to his brother's will before leaving, but he couldn't remember what had come out of his mouth. His head was swimming in a nauseating way as his shoulder screamed at him, his body shook violently with every gust of wind.
He already knew that he wasn't going far. He just needed to get to the car, then he'd burn the stupid fucking journal and drive himself off the nearest cliff. He was tired. So very tired and hungry and cold. He had dropped everything just to come when his brother called, hoping against all hope that maybe they could finally talk.
He should know better than to entertain hope by now.
He didn't even realize someone was in front of him until he literally ran into them, stumbling back with a curse as he clutched his arm, a new burst of pain surging through his shoulder. He blinked the black spots out of his vision, squinting at the weirdo who was wearing a flashy all-black getup in the middle of a blizzard.
He would've noticed that something was off sooner if he hadn't been so worn down.
But, as it stood, he heard a sharp twang before a bolt was rushing past his ear from behind. Stan stiffened, adrenaline flooding his body when Ford yelled at him, ordering him to run to his car and get out of town as fast as he could.
He took a total of three stumbling steps toward his car before an arm was curling around his throat, getting him into a firm headlock. The stranger wasn't choking him though, so small mercies. Actually, it seemed like the guy was actively avoiding his brand, which was weird because why would that matter if he was gonna take Stan hostage anyway?
Stan tried to hold on to the journal, he really did, but the asshole pulled it away from his icy fingers with ease. Stan choked on what might've been a sob, devastated that he had failed the one task that he'd been given. How did he manage to keep fucking everything up so spectacularly? He should've never been born.
"Stanley!" Ford shouted with no small amount of distress, clearly upset about his journal falling into the wrong hands on his front lawn. Stan couldn't look at him, couldn't bare to see the disappointment and anger that were surely coloring Ford's face right now.
"You can either have the journal or your brother." The stranger's voice carried over the howling wind, Stan's wide eyes darting to the book in the man's other hand with a sinking feeling in his gut. Stan already knew what Ford would pick, he had proved time and time again that he cared about his research more than he loved his brother.
"Let him go!" Ford seethed, the anger far more familiar to Stan, who finally braved a look at his brother. Ford was surprisingly close, only a few feet away with his crossbow loaded and aimed at the stranger. His expression was a mixture of terror and fury, his bloodshot eyes darting from Stan to the stranger several times.
He didn't look at the journal once.
"Is that your choice?" The stranger asked, the arm around Stan's neck slowly tightening, Stan's hands frantically prying at the dark fabric and flexing muscle with a pitiful wheeze that had Ford making an aborted movement toward him.
"Yes! Yes! I choose him!" Ford's voice cracked, face crumpling like he was about to burst into tears. Stan grit his teeth and swung his elbow down to bury it into the man's kidney, the grip on his neck loosening just enough that Stan could twist and punch the asshole right in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.
Stan lunged for the journal, wrenching it from the man's grip as he kicked the bastard's knee, hearing the joint pop out of place. The guy grunted in pain as he went down, Stan scrambling toward his brother, who had lurched forward to meet him. Stan couldn't see what was happening, but he heard another bolt fire and then Ford was dropping the weapon to grab at Stan.
"He's gone! He's gone! He left!" Ford gasped as he dragged Stan to his feet, using his body as a crutch to keep Stan upright as the two of them unsteadily made their way back to the shack. Stan's legs gave out on him as soon as they were inside, Ford slamming and locking the door behind them with an urgency that bordered on manic.
"Ford..." Stan panted, slumped against the wall, and Ford was beside him in the blink of an eye.
"What? What is it? Did he hurt you?" Ford asked in rapid-fire, shaking hands fluttering over his body. Stan caught one, Ford flinching at how cold Stan's hand was.
"I... the journal... I got it back." Stan said breathlessly, weakly raising his other hand to offer it to Ford, who looked stunned as he stared at it. Maybe he didn't think Stan would bother to grab it? Just how little did Ford trust him?
It was Stan's turn to be speechless when Ford took the journal from him and carelessly set it aside before he was back to fussing over Stan, who was too busy blinking dumbly to stop Ford from accidentally touching the brand while searching for wounds.
Stan cried out, hunching on on himself as Ford profusely apologized, scurrying away after assuring Stan that he'd be back with his first aid kit. Stan kept his head down as he nodded, teeth grit against the pain. He was used to waiting. Waiting for the millions to miraculously come pouring in, waiting for Ford to reach out first, waiting for his next meal, waiting for those rough hands to stop touching him.
Always waiting.
He heard Ford making a racket further in the house and decided that he could wait just a little longer.
#gravity falls#side quest#somebody to call my own au#ford pines#stan pines#stan and ford#stan twins#writing#ask box
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so in stars and time got a discount for anniversary. and so i bought it. and then played it for 12 hours straight. and oh. My god. so i feel like making a silly post abt it
(spoilers for various stuff ahead lmao)
first of all. mirabelle being aroace came out of the blue but the SCREAM i screamed when she started talking about it. i feel like we never get any romance repulsed characters in media really and i love that there was a side quest that allowed that aspect of her to be shown off And it still related to her main struggle. phenomenal character writing ough. and siffrin asexual too <33
also i adore odile but i did not expect her side quest to hit the second hardest. “i am other” might be one of the single most banger lines ive ever heard. i love her character but that made her so much better. this game might be one of the few where i actually felt connected in important ways to All of the party members
i only got to act 3 so far (i did the full friendship loop, probably i need to yap at loop a lot which i have been neglecting) but siffrin also had many moments where i was like. Oh. that’s. that’s me. with a very notable one being the plant room when everyone made a conscious effort not to touch him like. eee
last thing but i also really relate to siffrin feelings-wise, as someone with a dissociative disorder. i don’t really know how to put it into words well but sometimes i feel like i’m looping too. like every week is the same and i mess it up a different way each time, and everyone around me is just saying lines in their own little scene that i’m not in. and the memory thing too, my adhd combined with that often make me think things happened that didn’t, or i forget really important things a lot of the time and can’t even remember enough to retrace my steps or leave clues for myself. i don’t know but that feeling is a lot of why i was lowkey glued to this game until 3:30 AM yesterday.
tldr new fav game thank you in stars and time
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