#Father refuses to take Son dead body

[bibxrbie]

"Luke Skywalker isn’t like the old Jedi. He saves Vader with his attachments!”

Wrong!

Luke Skywalker, at the end of Return of the Jedi, after his confrontation with the Emperor drags Darth Vader through the destructing Death Star. He’s desperate, knuckles white under the heavy weight of his father’s body, a little boy dragging his dad to safety. He sets Vader down for a moment, to catch his breath or maybe to get a better grip. He goes to grab Vader again, but Vader, uncomfortable and in pain, asks Luke to take off the mask. He wants to see Luke through his eyes instead of the eyes Palpatine built for him. Luke refuses, says that removing the mask is a sure way for Vader to die. Luke doesn’t want Vader dead, he wants Vader alive. Not to hold him accountable for his many evil acts, but for the same reason why Luke Skywalker can’t kill Darth Vader; Vader is his father and Luke loves him.

And yet, after a moment, Luke removes Vader’s mask. He doesn’t want to, he hesitates, but he removes the mask with enough slowness to allow Vader to take it back. In that moment, Luke sets aside his desire for Vader in his life, sets aside his desire to see him live, and sets aside his entire mission, the reason he was even on the Death Star in the place. In his compassion for his father, Luke stays with Vader until he dies. It is this moment where we see him be the best damn Jedi he can be. I’d even argue that this moment is the greatest example of non-attached love we see. Because Luke lets Vader go! He lets his father die, and in some ways, by removing the mask, he too kills Vader, he stays with him until his last moment, gives him the kindness of granting his last wish and finally chooses Vader.

And Luke doesn’t have to do this. If Luke Skywalker’s love for his father was an attachment, he would ignore Vader and continue dragging him to the escape pod, put his desire for a father as his central focus and ignore Vader’s wants and discomfort. Maybe he would even save him. But he doesn’t. Instead, he watches as Vader dies.

He builds a Jedi burial for his father and watches it burn the remnants of Vader and Anakin Skywalker away. He mourns Vader, he mourns what they could’ve had as father and son, considers what ifs and maybe-if-I-did-this. Vader/ Anakin is released from his mortal body, from his ‘crude matter’ and Luke lets him go. He says one final goodbye to Anakin. Then, he joins Leia, Han, Chewie, Lando, and the rest of the Rebels and celebrates their victory. He lives in the present and celebrates what he has instead of what he lost.

Luke Skywalker is THE Jedi. Everything about Luke Skywalker serves as the foundational cornerstone of the Jedi, everything about the Jedi as a culture and philosophy is reflected in his character. Luke’s desire for the New Jedi Order isn’t to throw away the values of the old Order, but to vitalise them, breathe life back into dying lungs, and rebuild a path that people set out on their way to destroy. (Yes, his Order is different from the Old, but that’s because it has to be. He doesn’t have the resources or the safety of the Old Order.) The philosophies of the Jedi are difficult and they aren’t for everyone, and like the perfect Jedi that Luke is, he struggles and stumbles and sometimes he even rejects it. But, no matter how far he falls, it is a way of life he chooses again and again and again. It is a way of life that welcomes him back each time

#luke skywalker #star wars #pro jedi #jedi positive #luke skywalker meta #luke skywalker loves being a jedi and i'm so tired of people pretending he doesn't #I hate you 'time-travel fics where Luke judges the Order for how they've handled things' #Luke would be the people's padawan actually chasing everyone down to acquire every bit of knowledge that they have #star wars meta #jedi order #the jedi #anakin skywalker #darth vader #the original trilogy #a new hope #empire strikes back #return of the jedi #if I tell you that luke outgrows anakin/vader? if I tell you that Vader is just the start of his Jedi growth and the end of it? then what? #Iong post #it kind of ran away from me

[radiance1]

Jack was an inventor. A hunter. A walking tank of a man who could intimate anyone he wanted to if he weren't such a joyful man.

Daniel was not.

He was short, thin, calm and composed where his father was the sun. He was not a hunter, nor an inventor.

Talia was an assassin. A living, walking weapon. Impossible to notice footsteps. The eyes of a predator and all the grace of one moving in for the kill.

Daniel was not.

He was a failed heir. A less refined weapon than his mother. Footsteps heavy and loud compared to his mother. The eyes of a cold, dead fish with no life and nothing left to give.

He did not know it at the time but.

Daniel was a doctor. Someone that saved people. Mended broken bodies. Always carrying something to help. Nothing but medical knowledge rolling around in his head and the desire to save. Life saver.

Damian was the successful heir. Son of Bruce Wayne. Quiet footsteps. The eyes of a predator. Body trained to perfection. A master of the sword. Life taker.

A success, where he failed.

A battle of heirs. An outcome already decided, already known, already foreseen.

There should've only been one.

And indeed, there was none but one.

In spite of his loss, his failure, he was not exterminated as he thought he should have been. He was instead placed in the pits, the water mending his broken body not for the first time, then taken out, and found himself alongside his mother.

That was the last time he saw of her, and his brother. Only a scar where his brother would have killed him, refusing to be healed, left behind in remembrance.

He then found himself with a family. His father's family. Daniel knew of his father, a genius inventor who could build a great many things from scraps of metal, a gene that, while respected, was not what the League wanted.

It was a fling, and nothing more.

He gained a new mother and a sister. Inserted into a family who welcome him with open arms, yet already had their own dynamics that they practiced from time to time, and he always found himself at a loss when they try to fit him in them in some way.

Then, when he turned ten years of age, a year without seeing hide nor hair of his mother and brother. Came a man, Vlad Masters.

Vlad Masters was confident, self-assured. Well trained. Having money to spend in spades and spades yet making all that and more. The eyes of someone who thought themselves better than most, eyes of a snake, a spider, slowly waiting for something to take the bait.

Despite all of this, a certain sense of loneliness seemed to hang around him like an ever-present cloud. Something Danny only realized was there, when he caught the man broken down.

Daniel did not know how to feel of Vlad Masters.

Vlad Masters did not like his father, even though he seemed to treat his mother like an old friend, the same way his father treated him. He seemed both fond and somewhat off put by his sister, Jasmine Fenton.

Daniel finds himself respecting and sympathizing with that sentiment.

Jasmine Fenton was nice. Social. Unaware of her unconscious ability to think herself superior. Thinks she is often right. Does not like to be wrong. Likes to think things through.

Likes to peer inside of someone's head.

Daniel does not like that. Vlad does not like it either.

But she is nice, good intentioned, his sister. So he will overlook it. She is also Vlad's goddaughter, and so he too, will overlook that trait of hers.

Daniel was not interested in a great many things. He was not fond of swordsmanship, even though he was ruthlessly trained in it. He was not fond of building like his father, not as fond as running calculations to make inventions work like his mother, was not fond of, and while a useful ability, peering into the heads of others.

He was, however, found of what he found in Vlad Masters' basement. Something he believes was to be kept secret, yet found anyway.

He was unsure of how much time he spent occupied with what he found, time spent with eyes that only blinked when they were forced to because of dryness.

Time that was cut, when the owner of said basement, found him.

Curiously enough, he did not throw him out, and Danny did not notice him when exactly the man got there, nor how long he was there, until he made himself known.

He offered to teach Daniel of the knowledge he so sought, and Daniel only took a few seconds to accept the hand outstretched to him.

Four years. Four years did Daniel study under Vlad Masters, growing his understanding of the human body, watching how exactly to hold a scalpel properly, how to use certain equipment, what exactly to do that would let the human body heal without changing anything too much.

How to help, how to save lives. What to use to cut away pain, and help those in need.

A way to repent for every inch of blood on his small hands, was what Daniel saw.

Vlad Masters did not often make mistakes. His every move was far too calculated for such a thing. But he does, in rare cases, make mistakes.

One of them, was how Daniel found out about his unique biology. Vlad Masters was something called a halfa, a mix between the undead and living, a ghost and human.

It reminded him, not for the first time since he came to live in Amity Park, just how much ectoplasm reminded him of Lazarus Water. Yet he could tell, knew they were different due to various factors.

He wondered if he should try and write to his mother about this, more than once.

He did not.

After his 14th birthday, Vlad said that there was not much more he could teach him. Daniel soaked up all the knowledge given to him like a sponge, and retained all of it easily.

As a jest, he was told that he was allowed to pick a new name because of this.

He thought it was serious.

So he chose Danny. A name that came from one the rare, soft moments between him and his elder brother. Where he could not yet pronounce his name properly, before he underwent correction, a time where both of them were all smiles and no blood on their hands.

Danny.

The rift between Vlad Masters and Jack Fenton somehow, without his notice, closed. They were acting as if they were the best of friends, more so his father than Vlad Masters, and they became a functioning family with their odd little quirks.

When he turned 15, he went to Gotham. He was living with his sister while she attended college there, he did not want to go to school, so he did not.

It took many a time of convincing for them to finally allow it.

Danny did not know Gotham. He knew of it. He knew this to be the home of his brother's father, Bruce Wayne, that it was the city with the most crime, the city home to a notorious number of villains.

The city under watch and protected by Batman.

But not much more than that. He did not care for his brother's father, for whatever legacy he had fell only to his brother to fulfil. He hoped his brother achieved what he wished for.

Back then, and still today.

He wandered the streets of Gotham when Jazz was occupied. Familiarizing himself with the environment and finding out what was where and where is that.

Not for the first time, he found injured, and not for the first time, he treated them free of charge.

He had more than enough money to resupply himself, thanks to his mentor filling his account with money every month.

He gained a bit of a reputation, that child with a far too large lab coat. Dead fisheyes, a wandering doctor who treats anyone injured he came across. Though his reputation was small, having recently just came to Gotham.

One day, curiously enough, he found something new in his endless days of wandering.

A boy dead on his feet, covered in dirt, a ruined suit and looking like he just pulled himself out of a grave crossing the street, unaware of the car speeding towards him.

He was hit, and somehow landed in front of Danny.

He crunched down on his lollipop, throwing the stick through the air and into a nearby trashcan without looking while opening another and placing it in his mouth.

He took the boy home in what a normal person would essentially call a kidnapping,

He did not know how the boy, older than him, survived the trip back to his home. But he wasn't going to complain about it. He entered a room, one filled with medical equipment, the best that could be offered, and placed his mystery guest one of many beds.

He treated him as best as he could, then left to go get something to eat.

He still stuck to his wandering, but he regularly checked in on his guest. A week later, and the boy was awake, sitting up in his bed when Danny opened the door to check on him.

He introduced himself as Jason Todd.

Then he disappeared for some time, and the bed that held him for a week was empty.

Sometime later, he heard of Red Hood.

He did not know what to think of the gunslinger in red, and what his stake in the politics of Gotham would be. He didn't exactly care for the politics, so he stayed away from it.

He did not know why the Red Hood held good will towards him, considering they have not met before. But he was claimed to be under his 'protection' for reasons unknown.

The reason, he found out, after carrying the man to his home (it was a bit of struggle, but Danny was the son of Jack Fenton, and took after him in strength as well, although to a lesser degree), placed him in one of many beds, and found out his identity.

Red Hood was Jason Todd, a patient he had not seen for some time now turned lord of crime.

It was a bit surprising, but not something that mattered.

Perhaps it should have, when he found himself sitting across from the protectors of the night who decided to invite themselves into the house alongside his sister with a Red Hood that looked like he was none too pleased by this situation.

And a brother he had not seen in many a year.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #Danny is not a halfa #Danny is fully human #Although Danny is still Jack Fenton's child and trained by the league #Ectoplasm and Lazarus Water are not the same thing #Danny is a doctor #He also has dead fisheyes because I kinda like that #danny and damian are twins

[lizziesfirstwife]

Yearning

✿ neteyam x fem!reader ✿

➳ summary: neteyam and you have been crushing on each other for the longest time, with a lot of built-up tension. However, neither of you expected his parents to get in the way of your love.

➳ warnings: him and reader aged up, tiny bit of angst, mention of readers parents being dead, neteyam and you pining over eachother, slight talks about arranged marriage/ mates if you squint, fluff at the end

➳ note: this is my first avatar work, so please be nice! Reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated <3

You were fed up. Fed up with his longing stares, and especially with the looks the other villagers gave you. Like you couldn't hear the whispers. As if you couldn't feel their condescending looks. Him staring at you only made matters worse for the fact.

Neteyam couldn't care less about the villagers. Hell, he didn't even know what exactly they were whispering about. Their disparaging looks didn't make it too difficult to figure out, though. You were perfect in his eyes. You had never judged him when he cried in your arms at night, while he let down the long-since-built walls, constructed as a consequence of his father's harsh words.

Neytiri could only shake her head, amazed at the similarities between her firstborn and her husband. They were both lovable, but when it came to showing that love outwardly to those they loved, embarrassment appeared quicker than she could shoot an arrow. Too many times she's had to wake you up late at night and send you home when you and Neteyam have been fooling around late into the night about some topic she thought was silly, and ended up falling asleep half on top of one another. A true masterpiece, as she would call it. And not infrequently, an unmissable blush would appear on Neteyam's cheeks as soon as she would mention it. With the number of times this already has happened, Jake was more than confused about the sudden change of color on his son's face, only for Neytiri to displeasingly shake her head. Sully boys and love, like she said.

For the two of you, there was only one thing: you would make fun of his little brother for the rest of your days. As friends. What else?

Your parents died in an attack by the sky people just before the Sullys decided to seek out another clan for the safety of their people. You didn't let go of Neteyam's arms for nights on end, and even though your nails were digging into his back, almost painfully, and his chest was smooth with tears, he never sent you away. It wasn't a difficult decision to go with him. Who else did you have?

✿

You walked arm in arm along the beach. The sun shone down on you relentlessly, pleasantly beating down your hair, and warming your skin. You could still feel the freezing wind that blew over the sea, grateful more than ever for the weather Eywa blessed you with after your long journey. Thanks to Neteyam, you had a not-too-hard time arriving, Tuk however took it the hardest. The eight-year-old still refused to make friends her age, instead clinging to her siblings whenever possible. Jake and Neytiri were usually too busy with clan affairs, which hit the youngest harder than she admitted. Lo'ak, however, preferred to spend his time with a certain curly-haired Na'vi. Surely it wasn't on purpose, but an eight-year-old would hardly understand that. Kiri was mostly out in the ocean anyway and didn't come back until late in the evening with a handful of accessories. No way you had a problem taking care of her! But in moments like these, when you were just a girl and Neteyam just a boy with no responsibilities, you were grateful more than ever for Eywa's blessing.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt a prick in your upper left arm. A grin crossed Neteyam's face as you darted around to him, eyes narrowed and mouth wide open. He just shrugged his shoulders. "You could have just said no instead of scaring the hell out of me...looked like your mind left your body." You rolled your eyes. Neteyam has always been the more dramatic of the two of you, which has often shown to not be helpful in the most harmless situations. Neither of you would ever forget the incident with the pa'li, nor Neytiri's 3-hour-long debark. Since then you have never dared to ride one of these creatures again, which couldn't be said of Neteyam. Of course not. He needed adventure like air to breathe, and adventure needed him just as equally.

His long fingers wandered from your shoulder to your waist, where they lingered comfortably. You couldn't help but feel how your breath quickened and your body tingled where it touched Neteyam's. You prayed to Eywa that he couldn't feel how fast your heart was beating. More and more often lately, the eldest Sully boy didn't even have to touch you to get that kind of reaction out of you. But when he touched you... Suddenly you were very aware of his big hand on your waist, the way his fingers dug into the flesh...

"Y/N? Y/N! Wiya, you did it again! Seems like you don't even want to listen to me anymore..."

Pushing the inappropriate thoughts out of your head, you shook your head violently. "Teyam, no! It's just... I don't know. Everything feels so different lately. As if this peace were just a cruel dream, and we could wake up to reality at any moment."

His gaze softened, gently pulling you towards him so that your entire left half was now pressed against his right. "If this was a dream, I'd be glad you were in it. Maybe this is just a dream, so what? Then this would be the best dream ever." He playfully pinched your waist, which elicited an angry squeak. Quickly he averted his eyes and cleared his throat, missing the way your entire face was blushing. Eywa, this must certainly be a dream, he thought. He swallowed hard, looked up at the sky, and then back into your eyes. "My mom keeps asking about you. I think if you don't come to dinner tonight she'll wring my neck herself."

You grinned. "That would be too bad..." He looked at you in mock indignation but couldn't help the laughter that escaped his throat. "So, you'll come? For my mom?", he asked, looking at you with his puppy eyes. Your knees almost buckled at the sight, but you managed to look at him with a pursed mouth. "For your mom? Neteyam, if that's just another excuse to put those nasty leaves in my food that give me a rash-" "It was one time! Lo'ak threatened to push me off my ikran the next time we would have a mission again!", he interrupted you, but quickly closed his mouth when he saw the look in your eyes. Sometimes you were more like his mother than he would have liked. He had apologized to you for hours at the time and sat in front of your tent for 2 days because you had given him the cold shoulder. He could take it that you were mad at him, but it felt as if some part of him was missing when you weren't with him. There was a heavy storm at the time, and he would probably have frozen to death from all the rain and wind if you hadn't dragged him into your tent with your own hands and forced him to eat. He refused to even touch the food until you accepted his apology. Eywa, could he be stubborn...

Slowly you started to walk on, dragging Neteyam with you. You couldn't stay mad at him for long. Not your Neteyam. You breathed in slowly and audibly, a smile again creeping its way onto your face. "How could I ever turn down your mother's food..."

✿

"And then Neteyam here said that he didn't have to bathe for 2 weeks as a protest, just because I pointed out to him that he would scare away the whole prey with such a stench," Neytiri said with a full mouth, a handful of bladder polyps on her plate. The plant's salty taste was delicious, leaving a tingling sensation on your tongue after you chew and swallow it. Jake once compared its taste to the one of a pickle, whatever that was.

Neteyam's face flushed, his eyes grazing yours to see if you even caught his mother's words. He was suddenly very aware of your proximity. How your thigh grazed his, or the sweet smell of the perfume that Tsireya must have given you. He would always prefer your natural scent but still could only pray that his body wouldn't betray him during the duration of this meal. He prayed.

Jake cleared his throat and almost all conversation ceased except for Kiri's soft chatter with Tuk. He admonished the two with a quick look but didn't bother any further with their talk. "This wonderful dinner, prepared by my wonderful mate", he said with a loving gaze toward Neytiri, "finally gives us a chance to get together again. There is much that needs to be talked about, some urgent matters that take priority." Neteyam looked at him warily, not quite taking his gaze off of you yet. Jake was now facing Neteyam, who was switching from looking at you and his father. "As you surely know, the time has come in your life when you have to make certain decisions. Coupled with the rumors going around... Neteyam, you need a mate."

He could have also set fire to the tent, and thrown the entirety of you into the ocean. The sound that escaped from your throat sounded almost outraged. Neteyam swallowed hard, trying to hide the sweat from his hands. There was no way his father chose to have this conversation the one time you agreed on having dinner with him.

"Do we have to have this conversation when Y/N's over?"

"Don't worry, Y/N was expected to have this conversation in a few days as well. Having her eat here with us today only avoids unnecessary complications," Jake dismissed. Neytiri had a look in her eyes that you couldn't read, looking down at her plate vehemently. Tuk's and Kiri's conversation had also fallen silent in the meantime, the two girls now doing the same as their mother, although you could see Tuk sneakily glancing up at what her father was saying.

Neteyam shook his head, but Jake warned him with a look you've seen all too often on the father's face. "Rumors are floating around Neteyam... rumors that you've already chosen someone. Do you know how much concern these rumors are causing? And guess who the number 1 guess is." You knew he meant you. And from the way Neteyams ears twitched, you knew that he was aware of that too.

Neteyam hoped that if everyone saw him with you, they would finally understand that he wasn't interested in anyone else, and certainly never would be. But it rather seemed like it had the opposite effect.

Jake's gaze softened a bit after looking at his wife's reaction. It seemed like she wasn't particularly excited to have this conversation, particularly not with you there to witness it. "I don't want to deprive you of your freedom of choice by any means son, but since you refuse to take Y/N as your-", he started, but Neteyam interrupted him with a snarl. "How many times do I have to tell you that we're friends? Friends! You act like the clan will throw us out if I don't choose a woman tomorrow." But the head of the family did not put up with any arguments. He raised his hand to signal Neteyam to be quiet. "We're lucky the clan took us so well. And surely no one cares that you're still unmated, but do you really want people to start talking? Especially about Y/N, who certainly has nothing to do with your situation."

Neteyam said nothing. He just looked down at his plate, defeated, all appetite driven away. It shouldn't bother you that much. You guys were friends after all, best friends if you can put it that way. But that he preferred to be the number one topic of conversation, instead of even considering mating with you...

No. No. No. You couldn't think like that. It was Neteyam after all! Your accommodating, incredibly considerate Neteyam, whom you would like to wring his neck for all the feelings he aroused in you. You didn't even notice your feet carrying you out of the tent, nor Neytiri's worried look, or Tuk's plaintive call of your name.

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe it wasn't just Neteyam who needed adventure in his life to survive. And perhaps it was Neteyam who was the real adventure in your life. Who was your adventure...

✿

The waves were unusually calm as you were sitting on the sand with Tsireya by your side as if Eywa sensed how shaken you were. It has been a week since the incident at the Sullys. You were thankful more than ever to have your own tent, as you didn't want any confrontation with Neteyam or his parents yet. You weren't sure if you would ever want that. Tsireya must have noticed your sudden change in mood because she said nothing, instead sitting next to you while the two of you worked on a necklace. She firmly believed that being creative and doing something was a great help against bad moods. And truly, you haven't felt at peace like that since before the dinner a week ago.

Your fingers almost hurt from the repeating motion you had to do to create the certain pearl pattern you wanted in your necklace, when you suddenly heard voices behind you. No no no. Your field of vision was suddenly blocked from the sun, and you had to tilt your neck uncomfortably to face the source of your problems. Of course, your moment of peace had to be interrupted by him. Neteyam Sully had his hands clasped behind his back and his expression seemed blank, were it not for the small smile that had long been reserved just for you. Tsireya looked back and forth between you, asking you with a silent look if this was okay with you. You just nodded slightly, never taking your eyes off Neteyam. Taking the hint, she took her unfinished necklace and quietly snuck away.

Neteyam looked after her until she disappeared from his sight, and then took the spot next to you where Tsireya just sat. Neither of you said anything for a few minutes until he finally spoke. "You know, my mom almost killed me when I didn't run after you." You didn't say anything, which he took with a nod and the sign to continue. "I never really paid attention to girls when I grew up. Why should I when I grew up with the best of them?" You slowly turned to him and realized that his eyes were on you. You almost stood up, if his eyes didn't have that pleading look in them. So you just continued to listen.

"I've never questioned my disinterest in girls growing up, thinking that the right one just hadn't walked into my life yet. But I was stupid, so stupid. Eywa, I probably still am." You couldn't help but grin at his words, and he laughed at how easily he could coax a reaction out of you. Slowly, not wanting to scare you away, he slipped his hands into yours so that you were now facing him. "Y/N... I never saw it. I never understood why my parents never wanted to stop teasing me about you. But I guess I didn't want to see it. Didn't want to realize that there was a possibility, a big one at that, that you might not feel the same as I do." Your heart was beating wildly, and you thought for a moment that he could hear how wildly it was beating, how wildly it was beating for him, when his gaze slid to your chest and then up again. He gently squeezed your hand, unconsciously stroking the back of your hand with his thumb soothingly.

You knew what he was getting at, the look in his eyes almost unbearable. You didn't know what you were supposed to say, your throat feeling tight all of a sudden, unable to get any sound out of it. So you just scooted closer to him, your chest now barely touching his. "I always thought there was something wrong with me. That I wasn't in a position to like the chief's son even a little bit more than his best friend should. But..." You looked up at him desperate, gazing at his lips for a short second. His pupils dilated with something indescribable at seeing your flushed cheeks and blown eyes. You could have sworn that the air around you was buzzing. No words needed to be said as you two stared at each other, no words to express the magnitude of feelings that existed between you.

"Neteyam, I-"

"I see you Y/N."

You sat there with a dumbfounded look on your face, mouth wide open at the fact that he shamelessly interrupted your confession. Part of you wanted to smack him in the chest for that, but you were sure that any more physical contact would make your heart actually fail. He saw you. He is seeing you.

Neteyam didn't know how you managed to smile that hard, or how his heart could beat as hard as it was right now, but Eywa would he put up with it a thousand times more if it meant he would be able to see that look on your face again.

"I see you too, skxawng."

You didn't want to think of all the consequences that this moment would bring, or how tomorrow would be after you woke up and the situation would sink in your head.

You were right. He was your adventure, but you were also his. He needed adventure like he needed air to breathe, and for the first time in ages, it felt like he was finally able to again.

With you.

#avatar twow #avatar the way of water #avatar pandora #avatar #avatar neteyam #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam #avatar x reader #avatar 2 #avatar x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam oneshot #neteyam sully #jake sully #neytiri #lo'ak sully #kiri sully #tuk sully

[joyflameball]

If any other FNAF fans wanna throw in your favorite fucking insane FNAF facts PLEASE do

VAGUE explanations under the cut (please know I feel like that xkcd panel about overestimating the average person's knowledge of a topic right now)

the bite of 87 isn't important to the lore: It comes up ONCE in the first game, barely effects the lore, we don't even know who it happened to, literally its only lore impact is that the animatronics can't walk around during the day anymore. meanwhile the bite of 83 is incredibly likely to be the inciting incident that caused the murderer to do the murders. the "WAS THAT THE BITE OF 87" meme is not the bite of 87

golden freddy might have two souls: in the final fnaf 3 cutscene the bad end has golden freddy's head with two lights in it, and in the survival logbooks it's heavily implied there are two spirits rummaging around in there. there's more evidence but it's funnier if i don't tell you. the generally accepted canon is that golden freddy is possessed by a little boy named evan and a little girl named cassidy which is so genderweird of them

there are two purple guys and only one of them is actually purple: purple guy one is a murderer who killed at least six children. purple guy two is a rotting corpse who had his organs scooped out and possessed his own dead body to hunt down his father (who is purple guy one) and set him on fire twice. purple guy one is also a rotting corpse but he's in a fursuit

foxy has weird fucking genders: the foxy from the first few fnaf games is a guy and is referred to with he/him pronouns. in sister location, there's a foxy called funtime foxy, and when you select "girls night" in the custom night, they're one of the contestants. and in ultimate custom night, mangle (a really fucked up version of foxy) is referred to with he/she pronouns. this is canon and makes my gay little heart very happy

fnaf takes place in utah: fnaf takes place in utah

one of the novels had matpat mpreg: okay it's technically not matpat it's a guy named mat. however it's hilarious to say it's matpat. no this isn't a joke there was mpreg. with springtrap. i refuse to explain this

purple guy (the murderer one) might also be a yellow guy: in pizza sim there's a minigame with lore in it where you play a yellow mustard man who's a terrible father. it's theorized a lot that he may be the ourple guy because his son has grey text. no we don't know why he became yellow. he's never yellow again except when he's one of the comical amount of bunnies (there are like ten different bunnies in fnaf)

there are eight dead kids: we even know their names!

purple guy and his family are all british: in the opening cutscene to sister location, we hear the voice of one "mr. afton", who is the purple guy (the one who killed kids). he's british. throughout sister location, we hear the voice of a little girl, who is heavily theorized to be afton's daughter- elizabeth afton. one piece of evidence for this is that she is also british. and in the final cutscene of sister location, we hear the voice of someone named michael (who is the purple guy who's actually purple), talking to his father, and saying he's gonna come fucking KILL him, right before springtrap (purple guy) is shown and guess what michael's fuckin british. fnaf takes place in utah and no other characters are british. it's just the aftons.

there are three different jeremys and they all die: jeremy fitzgerald from the second game is heavily theorized to be the bite of 87 victim. one of the missing children is named jeremy and is possessing one of many bunnies. in the vr game a guy named jeremy is haunted by one of many bunnies and cuts his own face off. i personally find it hilarious to headcanon that jeremy fitzgerald is also jeremy from vr and maybe even the jeremy who got killed by william afton. especially considering the time traveling ballpit

bears are canonically extinct: in security breach, handunit mentions this in ONE LINE. it is not lore important. it is never mentioned again. objectively the funniest possible thing steel wool could've done

what the fuck is going on in fnaf: Buddy this is barely scratching the surface I haven't even talked about the child sized compartment in Circus Baby. You don't even know about the Charliebots or the Nightmare Gas. Do you even know about the Mimic. Do you have any idea what remnant is. There are ten different bunnies who are all also the same bunny. If you get into FNAF lore you will exit a changed man. Nothing here matters. There is a time travel ballpit

Anyway Cassidy isn't the Vengeful Spirit Michael is read that excellent Google Doc by @/whencartoonsruletheworld and THANK ME LATER

#cassie rambles #five nights at freddy's #fnaf

[giuliettagaltieri]

Honey, I'm Home

Pairing: Dad!Gojō x Mom!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Gojō Satoru is home.

Warning: spoilers

Word Count: 889

9 of 9

The fall of the jujutsu society reminded Gojō Satoru of a lot of things.

As honored as he might be, throughout heaven and earth, he is as susceptible as any man.  Maybe even more.

Gojō has too much to lose.  The time when he was fighting for himself and for glory was long forgotten after his heart was held captive by you, and in return, you gave him a home, a family, a reason to win.

Gojō Satoru is a protector, a husband, and a father.

When he was being trapped inside that cube, he could not care for the discomfort of the place, the mortification of seeing his best friend’s body being used and tainted, or the humiliation of having been caught in the enemy’s clutches.

His head was only filled with a picture of you.  How you will be worried sick as Gojō does not think that he will make it home that night.  His son, who refuses to eat his puréed food unless it was his father feeding it to him.

And when he finally made it out.  The first thing he wanted was to have you in his arms.

But that cannot be.  Not yet, as Megumi, the boy he took in and thought of as his own, has his body overcome with Sukuna.

Gojō was careless in that fight.

Or he was just afraid.

He was afraid of hurting Megumi.  Doing damage that cannot be undone. 

No matter how old that boy got, he was still the same brat that asked for chicken nuggets takeout after school.

The price that Gojō paid for such sentiment was great.

Almost too great.

It cost him his life.   

But Gojō was reminded that day that he was not alone.  He no longer has to depend on himself alone.  And for some reason, his soul refused to take that flight to heaven.  His body was dead, but he was never gone.

The thought of you and Satoshi kept him clinging, refusing eternal farewell with every passing second until somebody healed his body enough to become a vessel for his soul once more.

A lot of Gojō’s questions for the metaphysical was answered that day.  Perhaps there really is a greater being up there, looking out for him.

With efforts from hands that were not just Gojō’s, Sukuna was defeated.

But with the loss the jujutsu society suffered from, it was barely called a victory.

Overtime, the school was reestablished.  Multiple young sorcerers in training arrived at the doorstep of the school.  To learn.  To be stronger.  To not suffer from the same helplessness they felt.

But Gojō was done with teaching.

He figured it was time to focus on his clan.  Not that he no longer responds to calls for help.  But most of his days were spent inside his estate house.  Sitting through meetings with the clan elders.  Gojō wanted to smooth out every crease before he passed the title to his son.

Satoshi, his pride and joy, demanded to start his training the day after his sixth naming day.

Gojō oversees his training at times but it is difficult to do when you come waddling with your rounded belly to pinch at his ears for going too far with his strikes.

And there’s your toddler, her wails of wanting to join in on the training was always piercing Gojō’s ears, eventually relenting, he allowed her to join by sitting on his shoulders as she babbled away at her older brother.  It always made her laugh when Satoshi sticks his tongue at her, the sun bouncing off her hair that she got from you as her tiny hands clap messily, her crystal blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

And just as frustration starts to get in the way of Satoshi’s performance, you come with a tray of tea and pastries, your kimono with embroidered blue roses dragging behind you, making you look regal and otherworldly.

This distraction is always welcomed.  Both by father and son.

As Gojō picks up a taiyaki, he watches his son act out his fight, trying to impress you.  Your daughter tries to steal your attention by feeding you with manju and you open your mouth to accept as your hand caresses your stomach.  A smile makes its way to Gojō’s face, his eyes crinkling at the sight.

Had he told himself ten years ago that he would be living this life with you, he was certain that his younger self would believe that the six eyes had finally decayed his mind.

But this is what Gojō wanted him to see.  His childhood home with happy and well-loved children running around, a wife that always had the most lovable of smiles, just sitting under the great oak of your garden to share sweets and stories.

He would love to have blue roses planted there someday too.  And he would task his children to take care of them.  And the children after them.  To see to it that they prosper throughout the years.  Perhaps the Gojō banners could use a bit of redesigning as well, roses would certainly add an appeal to it.

He wanted it known that even Gojō Satoru was only a man.  A man capable of baring his soul to another.  That he loved beyond comprehension and received her love in return.

Where the Blue Roses Grow

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojō satoru #jujutsu kaisen #arranged marriage #gojo fluff #dad gojo #where the blue roses grow

[exhaslo]

Corruption

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Warning: Minors DNI, smut, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five months before D-Day

It was quiet. Something nearly unheard of in the city of Nueva York. Not even a whoosh of wind or a click of a heel could bring noise to this silent room. Especially not after the vulture of the lab had demanded everyone's silence.

You sat in the corner of the lab, quietly tapping against your tablet. You could not even hear another's breathing. That is how powerful the lead of this lab was when he demanded silence. That was how powerful-

"Miguel?" You whispered lowly.

Miguel O'Hara, otherwise known as Mike, due to his father's pestering nicknaming. Miguel O'Hara was the son of Alchemax's CEO, Tyler Stone, and the smartest scientist in the corporation. He was a man of power, and a man to be feared.

"This better be good, (Y/N)" He said with a hiss.

Oh, how you loved it when your name rolled off his tongue. If only he would have said it a little nicer. You raised your head from your tablet, looking ahead at the scene before you. A man, strapped onto a metal table with lights and strange liquid being entered into his blood. A twisted science experiment that never ended well.

Sometimes you questioned your job. You questioned how you found yourself seated as a secretary, recording each horrible experiment Miguel did. This was not for the faint of heart. You started working for Alchemax about two years ago thanks to a friend who helped you out of college.

You met Miguel a year ago, when you were assigned to be his personal assistant. Since, apparently, everyone else refused to take the job. Once you did your first report with him, you immediately found out why, but that wasn't going to stop you.

"According to my report, the subject purposely ate a peach before agreeing to this test." You explained.

"So?"

"So, the patient is allergic to peaches and is about to go into shock in a matter of minutes now." You huffed.

"Shouldn't affect the procedure."

Oh, how sometimes you wished you could enter Miguel's head and wonder what sick and twisted mind worked in there. Miguel was fascinated with genetic splicing. He always had a new test subject on his table once a week. He wanted to learn how to manipulate their DNA.

However, each experiment always ended in failure and death. The body count Miguel had was enough to lock him up a hundred times over. The man had not a single shred of humanity in him. It was always about the experiment.

"Begin,"

You rolled your eyes, wishing you could stop all of this. You had begged for a way to find the light in Miguel. How could someone so handsome be so evil? It almost made you sick the amount of times you had wet dreams about your monster of a boss.

"Another failure, sir. Perhaps we made a mistake-"

"I never make mistakes." Miguel hissed as he watched his now deformed monster patient lie dead on his table, "Get him out of my sight! Now!"

Right as you started to fill out your report, you noticed the patient's stomach start to inflate. You furrowed your brows before yelling out to everyone that the body was going to pop.

Your efforts were for not. Within the second, everyone in the room was covering in disgusting blood and body parts. You had wanted to throw up, but you did your best to hold it all in. Miguel was already throwing a fit about his lab being dirty, you didn't want to add to the mess.

----------

Once you were all cleaned, you made your way back to your office. You still had to finish your reports and send them over to Miguel for review. Miguel always demanded perfection. It was amazing how long you even lasted as his assistant. According to everyone, you were the more insane one.

"Oh, Miguel," You muttered, spotting the tall man in your office. Miguel lazily looked at you,

"Took you long enough," He spat. You placed your tablet down,

"Remember that time I told you that being a female requires more shower time?" You said with a smirk. Miguel scoffed as he placed himself onto your work couch, "Not even a smile," You huffed.

"Get working,"

"Yes, yes, oh chosen one." You teased once more.

The only thing that you could collectively agree on was that you were in love with the mad scientist. Giving Miguel a head massage, you stared down at his gorgeous face. You had been working with Miguel for a year. You knew what he liked, what he didn't like and how he worked.

It was safe to say that you were probably the only person in this whole building who understood Miguel. If only he wasn't evil. You would totally asked him out on a date long ago. Each passing day, you hoped that these feelings would go away.

"(Y/N), do my shoulders too," Miguel whispered in a low and sweet voice.

You folded far too easily. Doing what he asked, you knew that Miguel was using you. You had to be blind not to see that, but shit, you couldn't help it. That, and you physically could not quit your job. Both Miguel and his father made sure that no one would quit.

If you'd try, you'd be drugged.

Perhaps one day, you could bring this place to justice. You wanted Miguel to see the error of his ways. If there was any way to change Miguel to see the light, you would. Of course, taking Alchemax down was going to have to be the first step.

But, that was just a fleeting dream.

--------

Miguel inhaled deeply as you worked on his tense muscles. The only thoughts coursing through his mind were his experiments. How they could have been done differently. Perhaps he needed a different breed of test subjects.

"Let's resume our experiments with spiders," Miguel said with a low groan as you pinched just the right spot. He heard your small whine and scoffed, "We do this every other month."

"I know and you still torture me with it!" You cried softly, moving his to hair. Miguel closed his eyes, enjoying the massage,

"And as usual, I let you pick the next creature to study."

"A seahorse?"

Miguel resisted a chuckle since his first thought was getting males pregnant. How amusing that experiment would be, yet also horrifying. If he were to do that, then he would truly live up to his name as a mad scientist.

You had some dumb and ridiculous ideas. You weren't as smart as the rest of them and Miguel liked that. You were good for him to have around. Someone to remind him that there were those who were just dumb naturally. Of course, he could never say that to your face, or you would start crying.

"Like last time," He whispered ever so softly.

"Hm? Are you thinking rude things again?" You asked with a huff, gently pulling against his hair, "I can always stop this."

"But you won't." Miguel hummed and lazily opened his eyes, "Just be ready for tomorrow. I don't want another disappointment."

Getting himself ready to leave, Miguel fixed up his lab coat before giving you one last glance. He knew that you were attractive. Hell, he had to force his ignorant coworkers to get back to work since all they did was talk about wanting to date you.

Perhaps in another universe, where Miguel wasn't obsessed with his experiments, he would date you. Stepping out of your office, Miguel knew full well what he was doing. He got a rise knowing that he was keeping you all to himself.

Call it villainous, but Miguel enjoyed being selfish. That's how he always got what he wanted. Entering his private office, Miguel's eyes sparkled as he saw a case full of spiders.

"I'll make the perfect specimen, this I swear." He said with a wicked smirk.

----------

You squirmed in place, not ready to deal with today's experiment. You hated spiders. You wanted nothing to do with them, but Miguel loved them. He was so fascinated about the great hero age and about Spiderman.

Slowly making your way inside the lab, you gasped as scientists dashed past you. Everyone was running around in a panicked frenzy. Wondering what was happening, you gasped as you saw Miguel shaking with anger.

His spider enclosure was knocked over.

You wanted to jump and scream, but you knew that would only anger Miguel more. Hesitantly, you approached Miguel to try and distract him. As you did so, you felt something bite the back of your neck. You flinched and slapped your neck, praying that it was a mosquito.

You bit your lower lip, spotting a spider and nearly cried. Quickly shaking the foul creature away, you hurried to Miguel's side and gently tugged on his sleeve. Miguel hissed as he turned towards you violently,

"WHY AREN'T Y-Oh, (Y/N)," He growled. You were still biting your lower lip, glancing away from him,

"I know now isn't the best time, but why don't we-"

"Whatever it is, let's go while these fucking IDIOTS find my spiders," Miguel roared in anger.

You just nodded, leading Miguel out of the room as you quietly prayed for your fellow coworkers. Miguel was not going to let them rest until all of his spiders were found...including the one you just murdered.

"Why don't you tell me what you were going to work on while we go to lunch? I think a meal break would help," You suggested, tapping away on your tablet. Miguel stroked his hand through his hair, cussing lowly in Spanish,

"Sounds like a plan."

You smiled as you led Miguel to your lunch destination. You were proud to say that whenever Miguel was going to have a meltdown, you were able to calm him down someway or another. Call it talent, but you loved being reliable.

However, that talent seemed to be failing you now. You couldn't keep focus during lunch and Miguel seemed to be getting annoyed. You weren't sure what was happening to you, but your body felt like it was on fire. Could it have been from the spider bite?

"Sorry, Miguel...I just...need to..." You whispered before collapsing.

-----------

Miguel was growing irritated as he watched you waver in place. You were fine just a moment ago. If there was one thing Miguel hated, it was when someone lost interest in his conversation. This had never happened to you, so why now?

Right as you stood, you immediately came tumbling down. Like instinct, Miguel caught you and noticed that you had a fever. A small scoff escaped his lips as he carried you out of the restaurant and back into his company car.

"Take us to (Y/N)'s apartment. Fool got herself sick,"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Chapter

@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader

[lionheartedmusings]

bear with me bc this is gonna be a bit of a long one, but i've seen folks talking about how they're excited to get the horrors back on the qsmp and while i totally agree that i miss those blood-curdling, creepy, uncanny valley sort of scenes... i think the beauty of the overall storyline (as much as it's execution can be criticised ) is that we as the audience are seeing things in a vacuum.

the qsmp storyline is a living breathing player alongside our povs, and while we're aware of that, we're also not always engaging with it. we're getting swept up in the day-to-day of it all and getting lulled into a sense of security that ultimately makes us unable to truly comprehend the horror of the last few months until we take a step back and analyze it bit by bit.

children went missing in the night, leaving only their identifiers behind on empty beds. there were no leads. people looked and looked, and found nothing. parents were mad with concern and grief, and the all-seeing, all-powerful entity that rules their lives trapped in this hamster wheel of an island has no answers.

then, the items left behind on those beds vanish too.

then, there's mind-controlling, happiness inducing drugs being pumped into people against their will. still no news of the children. people are falling apart at the seams.

people are led to a maze where a wheel is spun and everything they have left of the children of this godforsaken island is gone. burned up. what does it mean? no one knows. they have to live on.

suddenly, a game is played. a clone of a dead child shows up, leading some of them into the same maze, forcing them to walk through a maze of doors and corridors, only to find a game of dice orchestrated by an unknown entity.

new people arrive, bearing witness to the hopeless, grim, sad reality of everyone who was already there. there's hope — there's always hope — but my god the pain is overwhelming.

there's clues, but there's not. the government keeping them trapped here against their will still has no answers, nothing to point them in the right direction.

faceless bears go missing.

faceless bodies show up on the streets. bloodied. dead. eaten.

suddenly, there's thunder and lightning and oh! oh, their children! of course they'll get on the train, that's where the children are!

but they're hijacked. stolen. once again, their autonomy is stripped entirely as another entity with power they cannot comprehend forces them to split into factions and compete for... something. their children's lives are on the line and they maim and kill those they call family because they fear they have no choice.

everyone went through hell — purgatory was a bad title for what they went through. it was hell, with no salvation in sight.

when all is said and done, when all the murder and backstabbing is over, they see their children through glass they cannot break. one escapes because chance said so, and the rest are left behind as the ceiling collapses on them.

the world is ending and their salvation is one singular boat a thousand blocks away. lovers can't say goodbye, friends run for their lives together, a father and a son dash desperately with no hope in sight. some stay behind, through choice or chance.

the government official that has made their life hell returns the children to them, and brings some new ones. those new children get carted off to new parents without option (again) and suddenly everything's supposed to be fine! nevermind your friends are gone! nothing to see here!

behind the scenes, the all-seeing all-knowing government is breaking apart, there's something far more horrifying and twisted at play in the background... but it's nothing the islanders can help with. nothing they can do. they have to live on and pretend their golden cage is fine and dandy bc at the end of the day, it's their only option.

one-eyed creatures show up demanding something "of theirs" back and bc humanity is strong, one islander refuses to hand someone kind and innocent off to them.

it dooms them, as their humanity has every single time.

now, they're under attack and they can barely defend themselves despite months of prep and having amazing gear — again, they try their hardest but everything is stacked against them. they fight, and fight, but their children are on the line and that's their main concern.

every fight? there's bodies littering the ground and panicked screams. explosions. chainsaws revving, and worry, and it's a war ten times a week.

a child loses a life, and now it's personal, but what can they do? no one listens to them, no one has ever listened to them.

and in the middle of all of this? their family is still gone, trapped in a wasteland, or missing, or... dead.

there was no funeral for q!maxo bc there's no stopping to smell the roses on quesadilla island, not really. where's slime? where's pol? where's the people who they haven't seen yet? gone, yes, but they don't have time to stop and worry about them. they don't have time to mourn losses and grieve their dead.

luffy, who came to try and help their friends, was stolen and hurt.

those eyeball workers? they were people once, maybe good people. maybe the best people we never got to meet, but they got shifted and changed into something monstrous and out of their control.

my point being: the story that the qsmp is telling is innately horrifying. it's not just creepy — it's twisted, and tragic, and absolutely terrifying. it's about loss of agency and running on an endless hamster wheel of someone else's making, and how you just sort of... live with it after a while.

and i think that's really fucking cool, because like these characters we too get used to the tragedy of life, little by little, and forget to see the whole thing from a bird's eye view (pun intended).

#qsmp #long post #siudghiusdfg THIS IS OVER 1K WORDS SOMEONE SAVE ME

[rustedhearts]

cowboy blues (gator tillman x fem!reader)

summary: you do your best to make sure gator has a perfect birthday—even against the wishes of his dead father.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ rolly's roller wheels blurb commissions!

tags: cowboy!gator (no cops here!), slight angst, fluff, smut (oral f receiving).

for @softagardenblooms! i hope you love this as much as i love you for always being so kind and sweet. yeehaw! ♡

wc: 1,248

the tillman ranch.

“Days off” didn’t exist on the Tillman Ranch. Never have, never will. Gator came to know that well when he asked his father to spend his 13th birthday at the shooting range with his friends instead of cleaning stalls. Roy’s adamant refusal (and insistence on a full day’s work even on the boy‘s big 13) was all Gator needed to know that he’d never be free of the ranch.

Not even on his birthday.

So, when his father died, it didn’t even occur to Gator that he no longer had to uphold the rule. He no longer had to work holidays or birthdays, no longer had to “man up” when all he needed was a lie down. But some part of him felt like Roy would still know. Like his spirit would come and kick him in the ass out on the field.

Like when Gator made it to Hell, Roy would be waiting with a special kind of torment.

“The ranch won’t go to shit if you take one day off,” you tried to insist. “C’mon, you deserve a nice birthday. A half day!”

But Gator just shook his head, lips latched around the mouth of a beer bottle. It popped free with a noisy swallow.

“No can do, sugar. Already got the guys workin’ overtime.”

And you huffed and pouted about it, upset that you couldn’t properly shower your man with love on his special day. But no one seemed more torn up than the birthday boy himself.

He trudged to work that day, but gritted his teeth and “took it like a man.” All morning as he brushed out the stalls, he heard his father’s voice in his head. Shaming him for getting sentimental, scolding him for finding too much importance in himself. Vanity’s a sin, son. God don’t look too kindly on men who think too much of themselves.

Ironic. Even Gator could scoff at that now. Though he fought the urge, every fiber of his being ached to be with you today. Just you, just him, tangled together mouth-to-mouth. He was a simple man, and sex was the perfect birthday gift.

But Gator still needed to outgrow his father’s shadow looming over him.

But it would be a cold day in hell before you allowed your man to spend the day in a hot stable shoveling shit rather than somewhere more enjoyable.

He took his father’s death pretty hard, and now he struggled to find joy where he used to. He called it the cowboy blues, but you knew better. And you’d do your damndest to prove that you could bring the joy back.

Starting with a perfect birthday.

You instructed a young rider to hurry into the stables with an emergency. Some frantic stuttering, some incoherent rambling and panting. Gator would assume the worst: that you were somewhere hurt and needed him. He always thought you needed him, and you let him believe it.

It worked out in your favor this time, because when he came running into the house—boots clomping in a run, work gloves on and trucker hat muddy—he found you unharmed in the kitchen.

Unharmed and half naked. Well, entirely naked save the flimsy ruffled apron tied around your waist.

He scuffled to a stop in the doorway, pinkness flooding to his cheeks.

“H-honey?” He swallowed. “What’re you doin’?”

You shrugged, playing with the strings of the apron. “Just bakin’ my man a birthday cake. You want a taste, hon?”

Gator’s eyes dragged over your body, inhaling deeply. He placed his gloved hands on his hips, a glazed look glinting in his eye.

“Oh…sugar, you know I gotta—“

“Gotta what? It’s your birthday, Gator. You don’t gotta do nothin’ you don’t want to.”

His eyes flashed to yours, brief hesitance brewing in his brows. He brought his lip between his teeth and dropped his hands. His gaze slowly slid downward again, head tipping to get a peek under the lacy hem of your apron.

"That so?" he mumbled.

"Mhm."

"Since s' my birthday...does that mean I get whatever I do want?"

You tugged the first knot of the apron strings free, keeping your eyes narrowed salaciously on his. "Depends. What is it you want, Gator?"

Gator plucked the gloves on his hands by the fingertips until they slipped free, landing with a smack on the kitchen tile. His hat followed, flung aside to let his hair loose. He took a large stride forward, dirtied boots clunking. All that ranch work started to pay off on his firm biceps and wide shoulders—you shuddered in anticipation of the first touch from those rough, callused hands.

They slid over your hips first, gentle and coaxing until you pressed your palms against his chest. They roamed lower, sweeping over the swell of your ass until they found the fat of it, squeezing both globes eagerly. Your lips parted with a sharp gasp, quickly swallowed by Gator's mouth slanted over yours.

"Want..." Gator could barely separate himself from your lips long enough to speak, words squished and smushed between tongue and flesh. "You...mm...on...table."

Despite the instruction, he guided you backward and lifted the small inch to the tabletop. Once seated on the cool surface, he broke from your mouth to nudge your shoulders. You lowered back, splaying flat. Gator flipped the hem of the apron over your stomach and smoothed his hands over your inner thighs, using his explorative and needy touch to spread your legs.

One finger swept through the slickness that awaited him, a chuckle filling the kitchen at your immediate squirming.

"This is all a man needs, sugar. His wife spread open on the table...all for him."

When all you could do was gasp and writhe, coached to excitement by his prodding and massaging touch, Gator's eyes flashed to yours again with a cocky grin.

"Really know how to spoil me, darlin'."

You heard the thump of his knees on the kitchen floor before you felt the heat of his mouth, attaching itself to your core and forming a suction that took the light out of the room. His fingers gripped at the fat of your thighs with greed, disrupting blood flow and bringing a soreness that would last days. But the pleasure lapping and nipping between your thighs was enough to soothe it all away.

You worried you weren't doing enough—it was his birthday, after all. Right now, this seemed entirely about you.

But through the blurred daze of pleasure, you took a peek at the man between your legs—gripping onto flesh for dear life, moaning and groaning between the loll of his tongue and pull of his mouth—and knew he was just as delirious with delight.

Gator stood to his feet with a glistening chin and ridiculously tight tacticals, which he rubbed at with a groan as he positioned himself between your trembling knees.

"Thank you, sugar," he sighed, thickened with relief. He smoothed the gelled hair back from his eyes and let his eyes roam over you again.

"You're...welcome," you breathed, still flushed and unsteady.

The tinkle of his belt buckle knocked against the table, zipper snicking with its quick release.

"Ready to spoil me some more?"

Your grin was nearly giddy. "Whatever you want, birthday boy."

It took another two hours to free yourself from the kitchen long enough to show him the real present: a sparkling new truck parked on the lawn.

He made good use of that spacious truck bed, and decided maybe birthdays were better spent off the ranch.

#rolly! #gator tillman #gator tillman fic #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman blurb #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman fanfiction #gator tillman smut #rolly’s roller wheels!

[geraldmariaivo]

I recently saw a DP/DC post about Jason being Danny’s bio dad, and I want to spit out my own idea of it:

1) Jason doesn’t know he has a kid. He’ done a lot of shady things and met a lot of shady people, and you can’t tell me he remembers every night of it.

2) Danny knows he’s adopted, he just doesn’t care.  3) Danny suddenly has to care one day because of Ghost Prince legality reasons where he needs his parent/gaurdian to sign something important because he’s a child, and Clockwork refuses to. Obviously he can’t bring this to Jack&Maddie, and Jazz isn’t old enough to sign either, so he tries to find his biological parents to maybe only slightly bully this hapless civilian into signing a piece of paper that says Danny *can* sign things, and then fuck off. 

4) Danny sets off to find his bio-parents only to find that his mother is dead and not a ghost, and his father is somewhere in Gotham. Which is where the Bats are. 

5) With a bit of help from his court and Wulf, Danny scours the city to find whoever the hell this “Jason” is, because just knowing his first name clarifies very little in a city like Gotham.

6) A few of the court physicians accompanies this search party because they’re headed to Gotham, and there’s no telling what kind of bullshit will happen, even if there’s no ecto-weaponry within a hundred miles.

7) One of the oldest physicians encounters Red Hood, and is immediately revolted by the nasty-ass ectoplasm they haven’t seen since Pariah was locked up the first time. Naturally their first impulse is to get this absolutely wretched ectoplasm out of this human as soon as possible.

8) Jason, naturally, doesn’t trust this glowing green person who makes the Pit writhe and try to get away. As such, he makes getting any kind of ghostly medical attention as difficult as possible.

9) Medic #1 gives up doing it solo, and conscripts the other medical personnel to help them effectively pin Jason (now out of costume) down while they filter out the nasty shit and replace it with clean ectoplasm from the Realms so his body doesn’t go through shock from suddenly having no ectoplasm.

10) Jason is still riled up and suspicious as hell, but he does notice that the Pit isn’t really there anymore. There’s still something there, but it’s not the constant anger he’s learned to live with. It’s calm, almost peaceful, actually. It takes all of two seconds listening to them giving out instructions to realize that they’re behaving like actual, good doctors giving out real medical advice. They repeat themselves when needed, and make sure to go over the whole of their instructions thrice to make sure he knows what they’re saying. It’s incredibly weird for Jason, but if drinking this weird not-pit-water stuff once a week or if he’s craving it from this weird glowing container is what keeps the Pit from bothering him 24/7, then so be it.

11) Jason asks what the actual fuck these people are doing here, because Metas generally know to stay away from Gotham.

12) They explain that they’re ghosts, and that they’re with a search party looking for a man with the first name Jason, and is likely to have black hair, blue eyes, or both.

13) Jason immediately puts together that they’re looking for him, because he knows his life well enough that he knows there’s no hope that the Jason they’re looking for is some random civilian who happens to have black hair and blue eyes.

14) Jason asks why they want to find this man, and if they have a way to confirm whether or not the person they find is actually the person they’re looking for. He nearly has a stroke when they say that they need him to sign some important thing because his son -which, WHAT?!?! When did he have one of those?!?!?!- is the High Prince of the Infinite Realms, whatever the fuck that means, but can’t sign official documents into law since he’s a minor.

15) Jason, against his better judgement, tells them his name, and says it’s possible that he’s the Jason they’ve been looking for.

16) He is right.

17) Jason has to grapple with the fact that he not only had a son he didn’t know about, but the son also died before he could meet the kid, and then apparently became the prince of the dead. 

18) Somewhere in this time, Danny (as Phantom) finds out about the nasty Lazarus water from his physicians, and tells Jason that Amity Park is a place where he can find much better ectoplasm if the man needs it for health reasons, and that he just needs to contact the right people. Preferably one of the local vigilantes rather than the Drs. Fenton.

Timeskip (how far depends on what you want to do in the meantime)

19) Red Hood goes to Amity park on Bat business. This is where Danny and Jason each find out about the clusterfuck that is the other’s life.

20) Shenanigans.

#i made this post #dp x dc #jason todd #danny fenton #danny phantom

[olympushit]

ARES DOESN'T DESERVE THE HATE HE GETS. 10 REASONS WHY:

Apart from being the god of war, he was also the god of generalship, manliness and civil order, which means that he was the god responsible for the correct function of every ancient city in order of laws and politics.

As the god of manliness, he was considered to be the patron of a fine man that every man looked up to. He was a fighter, not only as a merit from being the god of war, but he always fought for his beliefs, just like at the Trojan War when he complained to Zeus about Athena's unfair action. Also, he was the best father to his children and always supported them and their mothers, just like Cycnus fighting with Heracles, or when Aeropos' mother died during childbirth and he made it possible for the baby to drink milk from his dead mother's body.

He was the only greek god that never raped a woman. All his sexual encounters were consensual and he always seemed to respect his lovers, because he kept his private life low key and none of them suffered or were subjected to tortures, unlike Zeus' or Poseidon's lovers did.

He was the god of dance. Legend has it that before he was taught how to fight, Priapos, his tutor, refused to teach him unless young Ares knew how to dance. Afterall, war is considered to be the ultimate dance a man could perform in ancient times. Also, he appeared to dance for his daughter's Armonia wedding with joy, leaving behind the animosity for her husband Cadmus. Finally, in the feasts of the Gods, it was said that Apollo played the lyre, while the Harites, Artemis, Hermes and Ares danced with great joy.

He was a forgiving god. Despite his enraged and bloodthirsty behavior, Ares knew how to forgive someone and appreciated what they were doing to gain his trust. After Cadmus slaughtered the Dragon, he was put 8 years under servitude to indulge Ares. Finally, Ares not only forgave Cadmus for his crime, but he also blessed his wedding with his own daughter Armonia. Cadmus, in order to gratify the god, built the city of Thebes and made Ares its patron god.

He wasn't a coward. Many greek myths refer to Ares' lack of courage to face danger. This is far from true. At the Trojan War, when he found out about Ascalaphus' death, he disobeyed Zeus' order with the risk of his immortal life in order to go to the battle amd avenge his son's death. He was later stopped by Zeus' thunderbolts. Also, when the Aloadai were about to take Olympus, he was the first god to interfere in battle in order to save Olympus. Afterall, one of his epithets was "Olympus' Protector".

He was sentimental. At the Trojan War he was seen greaving for his children's loss and always wanted to inervene for their safety. Also, he understood the rejection of his parents towards him and he was a lonely god that lacked love. But he found the love he was seeking to Aphrodite, and did not only lust her, but he loved her deeply. Together they had 8 children, and both of them were jealous about each other's affairs, because of Adonis and Eos. They also had an open relationship, because he never refrained Aphrodite from her nature, which was love and sex. Afterall love is not meant to be given to only one person.

He was the protector of women. When Hallirothios attempted to rape his daughter Alcippe, he flashed in the scene and brutally killed the rapist. From that moment on, a temple in Athens was built for Ares "Gynaikothoinas", which means the one feasted/worshipped by women.

He knew the feeling of loss. A war has two sides, the winners and the defeated. A war isn't always to be won, and everyone must learn what it is to lose. He lost many wars, but he also won many. That's why he is among the Olympians.

He was a god of justice. That is because he was referred to be "Themis' Ally", which means that he was a helper to the goddess of justice. One of his least famous daughters, Adrestia, was the goddess of balance, justice and retaliation. Also, "Areios Pagos" or aka "The hill of Ares" was named after him because he was the first man ever to be tried for substatial homicide, for slaughtering Alcippe' rapist.

DON'T TREAT MY BOY LIKE THAT! HE IS JUST ADORABLE!

#greek mythology #greek gods #ares #on this blog we love ares #ares greek mythology #ares x aphrodite

[thought--bubble]

In Need of an Heir Pt 8

Aemond X (Baratheon! Reader)

Warnings after the cut

In Need of an Heir Masterlist

Canon Aemond Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Dividers and Banners by @arcielee

Warnings:: minor attempted Non-con Reader discretion advised.

Aemond watches your form retreat down the hallway. His heart tells him to chase after you to fix the situation, but his mind tells him there is no use. You hate him. As you should. As everyone should.

Aemond turns around to head back to his own chambers. He has no desire to walk to gardens without you and chooses to wallow in self-pity. He berates himself the entire walk back. Why would I ask her if she's trying to escape? She was simply telling me what kind of books she likes! I couldn't possibly be this bad at general conversation?

As he arrives at his chambers, his mother and Criston Cole are stationed outside the door. His entire body instantly tenses. He is in no mood for this.

"NO" is the only thing he says as he gets nearer. "Not today, no." He moves to open the door to his chamber when Alicent places her hand on the door solemn expression on her face.

"It's Aegon, the maesters...... they don't think there is much time left...... he wishes to see you." Her voice trembles, wirh the ache of a mother who has watched her children fall one by one. The slow, painful death of her eldest son has aged her beyond repair.

"He's in his rooms?" Aemond asks without turning his head. He can not bear to look into the eyes of his mother as her heart breaks again. The guilt of the role he played in the injuries his brother sustained plague him every time he looks into her eyes.

"Yes, please go see him. Even if just for a moment, " she pleads while tightly gripping his forearm.

Aemond gently removes her hand from his arm and gives it a gentle squeeze as he keeps his sight on her chapped and torn fingers.

"I will see it done"

Aemond takes off towards Aegon's rooms, nausea curling its way up his spine growing to a tightening in his chest. This may be one of the last moments he gets to spend with his brother. With his sister, Heleana, and his brother Daeron long dead, the ache in his chest burns hot.

As he approaches the door to Aegon's chambers, the maester is exiting his face says it all.

"How is he then?" Aemond makes sure that his voice comes out strong and sure, although the little brother inside him is weeping.

"The wounds he suffered in battle. The infections we've fought them as best we can for as long as we could, but I'm afraid..... I'm afraid there isn't much else we can do. I've offered to make him comfortable, but he refuses milk of the poppy"

Aemond nods his head and swallows back the pained expression that is attempting to claw its way onto his face.

He releases a deep sigh as he pushes open the door. It smells like death. The smell was reminiscent of Viserys as he withered away and died. His son was somehow doomed to the same fate.

Yet Aegon was a stronger man. One would never have estimated the man Aegon grew to be. Even as he was slowly engulfed by the stranger, he made plans and put things in place to ensure his family would be ok upon his death. Something his father could never do.

"Aegon?" Aemond walked closer to the bed chamber tentatively. He wanted to see his brother while simultaneously not wanting to see his brother. Not like this.

In a garbled, broken voice, Aegon called out to him. "Aemond? Brother?"

Aemond pushes through the curtains that had been hung before the bedchamber to give Aegon some privacy and the comfort of darkness and sat in the chair by his bedside.

Aemond looked ahead. Looking at Aegon in this state was too much to bare. His screams at rooks rest echo through the recesses of Aemond's mind. The night Aemond had spent running through the dragon battle in his mind, what could he have done differently? To save his brother and keep him whole? Unfortunately, he would never know the answer.

"The stranger will be coming for me soon," Aegon manages to say between labored gasps. "I wanted so badly to make it long enough to see your son. To see our future, but the gods have different plans, it seems." Aemond sits silently unsure of what he should say, his eldest brother, his last sibling is dying before his eyes, and there is not a thing he can do to stop it. The grief and helplessness taking their toll.

"I need you to promise, brother. You will not stop until you have a son, and you will marry that son to Jaheara." Aegon lays with his eyes closed his hand grasping tightly to Aemonds.

"This was already decided, brother." Aemond replies, unsure of why Aegon would ask this.

"By me. The king. As we both very well know the word of a king holds no weight once he is dead." Aegon coughs and gasps for air while Aemond watches his insides twisting and turning. This is his brother. His last sibling slowly slipping through his fingers. He grips Aegons hand tighter, silently begging him not to let go.

"I wish for Jaheara to be queen. She is all that is left of me, all that is left of Heleana, but I will not foolishly send her to the slaughter by naming her heir. I'm a smarter man than my father. I love my daughter enough to know that I do not wish the realm to turn upon her."

Aemond watches as Aegon again struggles for air. Through garbled breath, he is able to get out one final sentence. "Please don't swear to your king, promise your brother, Jaheara will be queen, married to your son and protected for always." Aegon grasps Aemonds hands his fingernails biting at his skin.

"I promise, I will see it done." Aemond then sits by Aegon's side for a few hours, watching him struggle to breathe until he drifts off to sleep. Aemond gets up and walks to the end of the bedchamber before looking back at Aegon, and he feels it.

"Goodbye, brother."

Aemond leaves him in the care of the maesters and stalks of toward his rooms thats where he had planned to go anyway yet his feet pull him in a different direction and by the time he is able to pull himself out of his own thoughts he is standing before the door of your chambers.

He bangs on the door more than knocks. His brother is dying, his sister is dead, and their daughter, the only one he didn't get killed, needs him, and he is failing her spectacularly.

A maid opens the door, looking up at Aemond with trepidation. "My prince".

"Is my wife in?" The disdain behind his tone at the pronunciation of the word "wife" was not lost on the maid who nodded her head quickly while slightly shrinking back.

"Y-yes, my prince, she is in the bath"

Without another word to the maid, Aemond pushes through into the room where you are currently getting your hair washed.

"Leave us." Aemond enunciated the venom laced words quickly, and both maids scatter from the room.

You sit in the tub facing away from him, your heart pounding like a hammer in your chest. This tone of voice you had never heard from him. This isn't his usual cool stoism. No, it is clear what this is. This is anger.

You try to speak, but words escape you as you internally curse the gods for sending him here now while you are naked wet and vulnerable. Your first thought is that you need to make yourself less vulnerable immediately.

You move to get out of the tub but are quickly pulled back down by your hair, causing water to splash up and over the sides. You grip the sides of the tub in panic.

"Sit wife. You must finish your hair. " He again pronounces the word" wife "with vitriol as goosebumps travel up your spine and onto your neck. You are no coward, but you are also not and idiot. This is a dragon. A pissed off dragon, and you are at a grave disadvantage.

"Is there something the matter, Lord husband?" You attempt to keep your voice strong. You can't afford to show him weakness, not in this moment.

"Of course not. Can a husband not assist his wife?" He starts to wash out the soap and oils from your hair, his grip is firm, and he tugs along your hair. There is no gentleness or sensuality to be seen.

"This can not go on," he states plainly. Before you can respond, he continues to speak, "You are my wife. I need you to start acting like it"

He pulls your head back by your hair, your neck cranes over the back of the tub, and he looks down into your eyes. "We will perform our duty tonight. You will come to my chambers after dinner. Do you understand?"

You nod, just wanting to end this moment your vulnerable neck splayed out and naked body just under the surface of the water.

"Good, that's good." He releases your hair and continues to rinse it, massaging at your scalp tenderly. The mixture of violence and gentleness, the telltale sign of a dragon.

You sit in the tub, your shoulders tense, not making a sound.

"Relax, dear wife. I am not going to harm you. I am your protector, after all. " He finishes rinsing your hair and moves to get you a towel.

"After dinner tonight, you will come to my rooms, and we will consummate this marriage"

He holds the towel open for you as you rise out of the tub, not saying a word. You wrap the towel around yourself averting your eyes from him.

You would not show him weakness, yet you would not stand in direct opposition. A true strategy is smart, not brash. It is thought out in the mind not played out through the heart.

Aemond nods towards you one more time before abruptly leaving your chambers. As soon as he is gone, you squeak out a cry. The tension you had been holding comes flooding out. You sit down on your bed, your face in your hands.

Your entire body trembles as you try and piece together exactly what just happened. What happened to make him change his behavior towards you so drastically?

You move quickly to get into your clothes for dinner, your mind racing. Why is he being like this so suddenly?

You knew a time would come when he would demand the marriage be consummated, the fact he hadn't already made that demand had surprised you but the way he addressed it today, the anger he contained yet also expressed towards you was off putting. You wanted more than anything to feign illness and skip dinner so you could hide away in your chambers or somehow escape the castle altogether.

Knowing that was impossible you dredged on, getting ready on your own being in no mood to have your maids around. You choose a basic dress, nothing fancy.

You begrudgingly make your way to the dining area and are shocked to see only Jaheara and her maid there since you had put off going to the last possible moment you should be last not first.

You sit down and the dining staff move about quietly keeping their heads down. The ominous silence in the room setting alarm bells off in your head. They should be here. Aemond not showing up isn't surprising. Aegon as well since he's so sick, but Alicent would not leave Jaheara to have dinner alone without a damn good reason.

After you and Jaheara finish eating, you go to Aemond's chambers as he had ordered but find them empty. Maybe he was just in a foul mood and did not intend to hold you to his earlier demand? One could only hope.

That couldn't be it. There is something much more serious amiss. The hallways are quiet. the rooms are empty, and you haven't seen one member of the royal family, save for the only living child.

You arrive back to your chambers and wait. You know eventually someone will let you know what is happening and with your current relationship with your husband being in the sorry state that it was waiting to be alerted to the comings and goings is really all you could do.

Minutes turned to hours as you sat before the hearth waiting for a knock on the door, screams down the hall. something. Anything would be better than waiting like this.

Yet as the night got later, the answer never came. Until you finally acquiesed to your need for rest. You blow out the last candle by the side of your bed, and that is the last thing you remember until you are awoken into a nightmare.

"Wake up, wife." The raspy words of your husband wake you in a daze as he tears the blankets off of your sleeping form. The sudden chill and the energy radiating off of your husband made it easier to alert to full attention.

"Aemond what has happened?" You attempt to sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes.

"What has happened?" He scoffs. His voice is higher pitched. manic.

"What has happened is tomorrow i will be crowned king of the seven kingdoms and I have no heir. I have not even consummated my marriage" He nearly barks at you.

Your face contorts in confusion. "Tomorrow? What-"

Before you can get the words out Aemond has climbed in your bed and drags you toward him by your thigh.

You immediatly react by kicking your free leg. "Stop it!"

Aemond moves up the length of your body and snatches you by the chin. "Listen here, wife, you will be quiet and do your duty in giving me the heir that the kingdom requires. Are you capable of that? Or must I dispatch of you and get me a wife, that is?"

His pupil is blown and staring back at you wildly, and you know. Fighting him now will only get you hurt or killed.

You lay your head back and turn it to the side. "Do what you must, husband." You say the final word with all the distaste he had been showing you as of late.

You feel him moving your legs and positioning himself above you as you blankly stare at the wall trying to count the cracks between the stones in order to disconnect your mind from your body as you await the intrusion. The intrusion that doesn't come.

Aemond hovers above you for what feels like hours but could realistically only be a few minutes before he brings his forehead down to your chest.

"I can't do it this way. " The words are muffled into your chest hardly audible as you feel tears hit your skin. His tears. Aemond brings his hands down to your waist and holds on tightly. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry".

You don't move or speak, you just listen. The sounds of his quiet sobs and your barely audible breathing the only noise in the room.

"Forgive me" He whispers quietly before placing one delicate kiss on your chest and removing himself from your bed. Quickly collecting the clothing items he had left at your bedside and disappearing back out into the castle leaving you visibly shaken.

"Tomorrow he will be crowned king?" You feel panic rise and bubble in your chest, as it starts to actually settle in what just happened to you. What the pressure almost made him do.

Tomorrow he would be King, which means you would be Queen and both your family and the realm are in need of an heir.

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#prince aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #ewan mitchell verse #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #possessive aemond #prince aemond #hotd aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x female reader #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan nation #ewan mitchell #ewanverse #jess fics

[brummiereader]

No Son Of Mine (One Shot)

Summary: Justice had finally been served in the wake of John's death. But with all acts of violence comes consequences, one Tommy must face when his trusted friend Johnny dogs stumbles upon the now orphaned baby of the traitor and his wife he and Arthur had both murdered in cold blood all in the name or revenge. With no child of their own and Graces refusal to send him to the orphanage, Tommy begrudgingly takes the child into his care. Will Tommy ever show young Oliver the love of a father he deserves? Or will he continue to see him as nothing but a burden the heavens had cruelly punished him with?

Warnings: Language, mentions of murder, mentions of blood, angst, fluff

Authors note: A lovely reader of mine popped into my messages and kindly asked me if I could write this story for them. I'm sorry for the long delay hun, I can only blame my procrastinating brain for my tardiness. Anyway, I hope i did your prompt justice. Enjoy!

"Right, we done?" Tommy said raising a brow as he wiped the blood that had splattered onto to his crisp white evening shirt looking to his brother Arthur nodding his head in response, his chest heaving up and down as he brushed his bloody hands through his hair, both having been sidetracked from the nights festivities.

" Fucking scum" Arthur sniffed wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he gave one last kick to the lifeless body at his feet. A cascade of events since John's death had led up to this very day, and Tommy and Arthur both simultaneously agreed without the need of words that justice had finally been served. Luca Changretta had been dead for almost a fortnight, the vendetta was over for all but the two surviving older brothers. That was until tonight when both Arthur and Tommy were unexpectedly called away to the news that Johnny dogs had found exactly who they'd been looking for. The traitor, the informer, the bastard that had given John's address to the Italians. A Peaky Blinder, one of their very own men.

" What about her?" Arthur spat a splutter of saliva laced with blood to the ground, the result of one lucky punch from the chancer that had tried his luck with the towering gangster. He'd put up a decent fight, one Arthur enjoyed watching before his patience grew thin and he pummeled his fist into him, each snap and break of his bloody face crumbling into something unrecognizable before being shot point-blank in the head. No one wanting or willing to hold him back. Not even Tommy. No forgiveness was given that dark night, only the sweet mercy met at the end of the barrel of a gun.

" Collateral" Tommy replied as he rubbed a cigarette across his lips not giving the nights events one ounce of remorse. This was for John after all.

" Collateral?" Arthur sniffed feeling a pang of guilt hit his stomach. Women and children were not to be harmed, an unspoken agreement before time in all dealings in war between men.

" Yes Arthur, fucking collateral alright?" Tommy snapped as he marched over to his brother whose eyes hadn't left those of the lifeless woman laid on the muddied ground below him " She ran into the line of fire brother. She all but killed herself" Tommy finished growing impatient with Arthur's weighing guilt. The last thing he needed was his number one soldier to be hit with a moral compass.

" Lads, we've got ourselves a wee problem" Johnny rushed over breathless as he loosened the neckerchief from the vein pumping angrily on the side of his neck. Fuck sake, Tommy thought to himself as he threw his cigarette to the ground. Things could never go smoothly, as smoothly as murder could go that was.

" What kinda problem?" Tommy replied as he and Arthur followed him into the small bedsit from the courtyard that two dead bodies had yet to be disposed of. The commotion resulting in the curiosity and twitching of the neighbours curtains, not one of them daring to or even contemplating in the slightest to inform any person of authority. Who would they go to? The police? The mere thought was laughable.

"Just a small one" Johnny replied taking two steps at a time up the rickety wooden stairs elaborating no further on what exactly had thrown a spanner into the works.

"A small problem Johnny eh? That's a big fucking problem!" Tommy ranted shaking his head as the three men entered the flat met with the sound of a newborn baby wailing in his woven bassinet, his bottom lip wobbling with each cry that furiously left his little lungs.

"Well he's small ain't he?" Johnny replied as he tilted his head looking down at the baby boy bundled in a white knitted blanket. You'd think with the the small army of children Johnny had fathered he'd be in his element. But that couldn't be further from the truth. Johnny was a natural with children, but a natural with children that had been weened, potty trained, and able enough to drive a four wheeled vehicle and shoe a horse. In basic terms, teenagers. But nonetheless wee babbies in his eyes. Newborns were all but a loud messy mystery to him.

" Jesus fucking Christ..." Tommy huffed pinching his brow as his mind frantically tried to come up with a solution as to what in the hell he was going to do now.

" Bloody hell, bloody fucking hell!" Arthur bellowed as he kicked the chair beside him, the gravity of what they had just gone hitting him far more than any sin from the long list he had committed in the past. They had made a child an orphan, and Arthur's regret and new-found faith in the almighty was about to turn into a furious rage of self-inflicted guilt.

" Hey, hey!" Tommy said cupping Arthur's head in his hands in a vice grip, trying to snap him from the pit he was intent on falling in. " Johnny take the child and go start the car" Tommy said loosening his hands as Arthur's head cast down with shame at his sudden outburst. No reading of scriptures would ever be able to tame the raging fury from igniting within him at any given moment, no matter how hard he tried. " And Johnny, light a fire. Just as we did for John" Tommy finished reminding Arthur who this was for, who they were avenging.

" He won't quit!" Arthur panicked as he held the baby in the back seat of the car, fumbling with the hand stitched blanket as Tommy drove full speed down the country lane back to Arrow house were the night of meeting with dignitaries was surely over.

" He ain't a bloody chicken is he?" Johnny said as he reached over from the passengers seat taking the bundled up child into his arms. " Like this, look" Johnny added resting the baby's head on his shoulder as he silently prayed to every ancestor to take pity on him, promising them that the next child to be birthed with his last name he'd be the epitome of a modern father to.

" Shut him up Johnny!" Tommy shouted, his jaw clenched at the increased wailing in his ear, his nerves on edge by the constant reminder of the nights events he now had to deal with as he slammed his foot down on the pedal with Arrow house in sight.

"Grace!" Tommy's voice bellowed through the walls of the their house. Every guest had already left, the grand entrance cleared of tables of the most prestigious of all champagnes imported from France mere hours ago. A night of free food, free booze and music in return for them delving into their pockets. But with the host having been otherwise occupied for most of the evening it was a night wasted, one he would begrudgingly have to endure for a second time.

" Tommy..." Grace said as she hurried down the stairs pulling her ivory night gown around her as she watched Tommy pace back and forth with a cigarette hanging from his lips in the grand hallway.

" Here. You wanted a baby, now you have one" Tommy said as he took the child from Johnny's arms placing him into hers before storming off to his office and slamming the door shut, leaving his wife wide-eyed in confusion as Johnny and Arthur stood there sheepishly without a word.

" Frances, some warm cows milk and another blanket please. That will have to do until the morning" she said softly not wanting to startle the child anymore as she gently hushed his sobs away into small whimpers and sniffles. " One of you going to tell me what happened?"

It had been an hour, three whiskys, a packet of cigarettes and the rubbing of one's brow back and forth as a pounding headache settled onto his forehead since Tommy had shut himself away in his office, shutting himself away from the consequences of the night.

" Tommy?" Graces voice quietly announced as she entered the room with the newborn bundled in her arms soundly asleep as a flash of love at seeing his wife in her element softened her husband's face. Her motherly instincts that had been waiting to be freed finally being put to use after the longing for her own child.

" I've rung the orphanage" Tommy bluntly replied, the sweet moment that had captured him bitterly snatched away by no one else but himself as he stubbed out his cigarette. " They're coming first thing tomorrow to..."

" The orphanage. Tommy..." Grace interrupted him, her angered voice raising just above a whisper in response before being cut off herself.

" I won't hear anymore on it Grace. He can't stay here, that's the end of it" Tommy stood up throwing his lighter on a stack of paperwork as he rested his hands on the mahogany desk in front of him, looming over the list of numbers he had been calling as he huffed out a cloud of smoke.

" The end of it is it Thomas?" Grace scoffed as she walked forward, her eyes narrowing in on her husband with every step she took. " You made this child an orphan, he is your responsibility now. That's the end of it" she said coming to a stop in front of his desk as her husbands jaw tightened at her words.

" What about John's kids eh? They've been made orphans, hm? Grace? " He said as his wife turned her back on him as she headed for the door, Tommy's raised voice enough to startle a small whimper of cries from the baby boy now waking up from a deep slumber.

" When will it end Tommy?" Grace said as she came to a stop at the door. Tommy's relentless need for revenge against anyone who had dared to cross him leaving a string of orphans, elderly burying their own children and children burying their own parents. " A son Tommy, isn't that what you've wanted? What we've wanted?" she sighed, a deep wave of sorrow filling her heart as she looked down at the sweet child in her arms, a child she had yearned for during the unforgiving nights she had held onto her husband as tears streamed her face. Loss after loss breaking her already shattered heart.

" He'll be no son of mine"

Six years later...

" Elbows off Oliver" Grace reprimanded with a small smile of affection at the breakfast table to the child who had grown into a dimpled cheeked young boy as she rubbed her swollen stomach.

" Yes mummy" he replied kicking his legs back and forth as he wiped his cheeks from the egg soldiers he had just enjoyed as Tommy eyed him over the newspaper in his hand, reaching to caress his wife's stomach.

" He'll be here soon" Grace smiled to her husband lacing her fingers between his as she glanced over at her son that had no knowledge of who his birth parents were or the night that had brought him into their life, never wanting to or willing to send him into turmoil with the truth at such a young age "A baby brother for you Oliver " she winked to him as he grinned from ear to ear at the idea of having a sibling all whilst trying to stack the remaining pieces of toast into a strong hold that would keep the soldiers from the fiery dragon his imagination had conjured up. His attempts rendered futile when his tower of toast came crashing down onto the recently polished floors.

" Grace..." Tommy huffed folding his newspaper in half throwing it on the table in front of him, his patience easily tested with anything the small boy did that caused the slightest of inconvenience.

" Don't play with your food darling" she corrected him as Oliver's eyes darted to his father and the irritation clearly expressed in the creases of his furrowed brow. "Go clean up those buttery cheeks before I leave ok?" She smiled as the boy nodded in response while sliding off his seat only to stand on the scattered toast below him, causing a mountain of crumbs and further mess.

" You heard your mother" Tommy huffed lighting a cigarette as he looked down at the waste of food and the disorder that came with the child that had created it. " Oliver" Tommy pinched his brow as the little boy stood there doe eyed looking up at him nervously through his lashes.

" Go on" Grace smiled reassuring him as he ran to the door. " You're to harsh with him, he's scared of you" Grace said snapping her head to Tommy as he left the room.

" He doesn't listen" Tommy stated as he stood up taking a drag of his cigarette as he watched the boy through the crack of the door running up the stairs. " Stands there looking gormless whenever I tell him to do something, just like his traitor father"

" Tommy!" Grace said as she put the breakfast dishware down, crashing them onto the table in one loud clatter of knives, forks and spoons as she hurried to shut the door. " Don't ever let him hear you talk like that!"

" Well maybe he should know, eh Grace ?" Tommy said coldly stubbing his cigarette out, the pain from his brothers death never fully grieved, only ever making itself clear through the unfair coldness he showed to the child his wife had lovingly taken in all those years ago, raising him solely on her own over the watchful eye of him always standing from afar.

" You'd like that wouldn't you Tommy? Wouldn't have to keep up your facade anymore" Grace replied as she walked around the table. " Your his father, he knows no different. Just like this one" she said resting her hand on her stomach. " You're breaking his heart Tommy" she said taking his hand trying to reason with his stubbornness and the relentless friction he had undoubtedly created in the house the three of them shared. "I'm going to miss my train" she sighed as she closed her hand around his placing a tender kiss to his lips before turning to leave as Tommy followed behind her, watching from the door as she knelt down to Oliver in the entryway.

" Can't i come?" the young boy sobbed as she brushed his tears from his rosy cheeks. " Please?" he sniffed turning to see Tommy leaning against the door frame watching from afar, always from afar.

" I'm sorry darling, not this time" she replied a look of concern in her eyes about leaving him alone with Tommy, silently wishing this one time he would push his unenthusiastic demeanor aside and at least try if not for her then the little boy who thought the world of him. The same little boy with a determination that matched the very man who would brush off any attempts he made to impress him. Tommy's hate for the man that had fathered him clouding every parental instinct in his body. " I'll bring you something back" she winked giving him a hug before she fixed her hat and hesitantly turned to the door, leaving the young boy standing in the hallway sobbing as Tommy cruelly turned his back on his tears and shut the dinning room door behind him.

" Dad, Johnny, watch me!" Oliver shouted as he precariously placed one foot in front of the other climbing the large oak tree shading the evening sun on the grounds of Arrow house as Tommy and Johnny dogs watched on from the patio door. The young boy hell-bent on getting to the very top after seeing his uncle Arthur climb the very same tree two weeks earlier as he watched on in awe.

"That 'a boy!" Johnny shouted back pulling his cigarette from his mouth as he waved back. " Found 'em Tom" he turned to Tommy in a hushed voice as he leaned in. "They live up north in Yorkshire, factory workers in the local pressing center. Dirt poor, drunk ol' man that beats his wife within an inch of her life and too many mouths to feed" Johnny added as he watched Tommy's eyes following Oliver's every move.

" He's gonna fucking fall" Tommy huffed under his breath as he stood up straight, already on guard for the inevitable. He never fucking listens, why would he never listen to him?

" Tom, you listening ?" Johnny said as he pulled the address of Oliver's uncle from his pocket. " Grace will never forgive you Tom, he's her whole world" Johnny added as Tommy took the piece of crumpled paper from him, the decision to send Oliver to his family having been made after the unexpected news of Grace's pregnancy, a decision made solely by him without her knowledge. It's better she didn't know, better for him that was. And when the day did come, he'd tell her his family claimed him back. What grounds would she have to fight them? She'd be distracted with the birth of their son, she'd forget...wouldn't she?

"Dad look!" Oliver shouted trying to get his attention, determined to show him how far he could climb, how he was as fearless as any other Shelby before he misplaced his foot and came tumbling down to the ground.

"Oliver!" Tommy shouted throwing his cigarette into the grass as he and Johnny ran over in a panic. " What did I tell you eh?! What did I fucking tell you?!" Tommy shouted, all words of expected comfort and love absent from his voice as anger and frustration took over.

"I'm sorry..." he sobbed looking up to his dad as Tommy removed his cap from his head, running his hands through his hair as he looked down at the bloody cut on his hand, every ounce of his being telling him to cradle the boy in his arms that knew nothing but him as his father.

" Ay, up you get" Johnny said helping him as he gave him a pat to his back. " Just a scratch Oliver ay? No broken bones. Nout to worry on. Ain't that right Tommy?" Johnny said in attempts to reassure the sobbing boy and Tommy who was about ready to snap again, his jaw tightened at the sight of Oliver's cheeks streamed with tears, muddy and red from the blow of the fall.

"Get inside" Tommy said placing his cap back on as he started marching back to the house, ignoring the pit of fear in his stomach at how things could have taken a turn for the worse under his watch of the boy Grace had entrusted him with. " Boys don't cry Oliver. Soldier up and wipe those tears" Tommy harshly stated as he left him and Johnny by themselves as he made his way to his office, shutting himself once again away from any more responsibility, anymore damage his presence caused.

" Come on lad" Johnny said putting his arm around him as Oliver sniffed back his tears feeling foolish that he had not only fallen but cried In front of his father, the man that never cried.

Sitting back in his leather chair Tommy rubbed the weight of the guilt that had settled on his forehead with the tips of his fingers as the night drew in, the soft hue from the crackling fire the only source of light in the blackened room he had locked himself in for the remainder of the evening. The impending birth of his child had unexpectedly thrown Tommy's thoughts into an uncomfortable disarray. Out of sight out of mind had been Tommy's only solution to the feelings that had started to arise in him that fatherhood had threatened, that fatherhood had been threatening him with for six years. Oliver was more like him than Tommy dared to admit. The child's strong will and refusal to listen one of his own cruel making. Why couldn't he love him like he already loved his unborn child? How long could he keep this up? Would he be that man, unashamedly favoring one child in front of the other? With too many questions dominating his thoughts and his wife's gentle voice absent to soothe the demons he had created for himself, Tommy did what he only knew how to do. Drink himself to the bottom of a whisky bottle. Heading up to the second floor of Arrow house with the finest bottle of Irish whisky in his hand he stopped at the top of the stairs, small whimpers and cries coming from the room at the end of the hallway capturing his attention. Oliver's room.

" Frances!" Tommy called out as he waited for the the housekeeper to deal with what he knew he couldn't. "Fuck sake" he huffed under his breath after waiting in place for someone to come before he found himself walking down the hallway to Oliver's room. There, with his knees curled up to his chest Tommy watched though the crack of the door as Oliver rubbed his hand back and forth over the bandage wrapped tightly around his injured wrist, his small frame illuminated by the cast of the gentle moonlight shining through his bedroom window. Running his hand down his face Tommy opened the door as Oliver quickly turned around pulling the blankets up to his chin.

"Oliver?" Tommy questioned placing the bottle of whisky on the side cabinet as he walked over. " Why aren't you asleep?" Tommy said more bluntly than he intended to as he stood by the bed, feeling a wave of unease wash over him as he noted the small blanket Oliver was clutching onto. The very same blanket he was wrapped in the night they had found him. Grace had kept it, something he would have known if he had ever sat and read him a bedtime story, if he had ever woke in the night to hush the nightmares away from his worried mind, if he had ever even entered his room in all of the six years he had lived under his roof." Let me see" Tommy said in a gentler tone as he sat beside him on the bed. " Oliver let me see" he said when no response came from the whimpers the small child was trying to stifle. Boys don't cry. " Please?" Tommy sighed resting his hand on the child's back as his head fell into his other, the guilt of six year of taking the life of his parents settling on his shoulders pushing him further into his elbow digging into his leg as his head grew heavy with regret. Sniffling, Oliver turned around with his hand out as Tommy cradled it gently in his own, the difference in size causing Tommy's throat to go dry. The hate for his father's betrayal that of a grown mans doing, not this young boys that Tommy had cruelly burdened him with for six years " First of many battle wounds eh?" Tommy smiled to the young boy as Oliver's face stayed unchanged, unresponsive to Tommy trying to ease his worry. Had he done this? Made the child is his care so frightened of him he couldn't even a coax a smile from him?

" Soldiers don't cry" Oliver said pulling his hand away, his bottom lip turning down at the thought he wasn't as strong as his father, a soldier like him.

" They do Oliver" Tommy said as his brows knitted together at the thought that young Oliver had taken his words to heart. What else had Tommy said in the past six years, what else had he unknowingly taught him?

" You said boys..."

" And I shouldn't have " Tommy answered before he could finish as the boy wiped his tears from his youthful cheeks whilst a small silence filled the room, the strain from their relationship left empty with nothing further to say as Tommy desperately tried to search for the comforting words he knew Oliver needed to hear. " You want your mum don't you?" Tommy said swallowing harshly as he turned his head to the rays of moonlight cast on the wooden floor " I'm sorry Oliver, I'm..." Tommy huffed pinching his brow as he clasped his hand around the child's shoulder. "... I'm not very good at this. You gotta help me out here. Will you help me?" he said as he gently squeezed his shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth as the barriers Tommy had kept up started to fall around him as he desperately scrambled to gain back the wasted years he had been adored, loved unconditionally, a love he had never once reciprocated . " Get some rest" Tommy sighed patting Oliver's shoulder, his plea for help left unanswered as he stood up when a small hand grabbed hold of him.

" Tell me a story, please?" Oliver asked as he sat up in his bed looking up to the man he had always looked up to, always waiting for an ounce of affection.

" That what your mum does eh?" Tommy replied as he sat back down, adjusting the covers lovingly around the boy, if not a little overly enthusiastically as Oliver was now in a tight cocoon of covers and blankets with his arms securely fastened by his sides. " A story..." Tommy mused aloud, his eyes looking up at the ceiling as his brain mulled over all the potential tales that could see him sleeping in the guest room for an undefined amount of time if Grace ever found out, when the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile you would think had never seen the light of day let alone witnessed by anyone but himself. Arthur had made him swear in blood to never mention the day his gangly legs had gotten in his way causing him to fall from would could have been the very same tree Oliver had fell from earlier that day in attempts impress a girl three decades ago. " Arthur made me swear never to tell anyone, but you won't tell him I told you, right? Tommy said as the boy nodded his head, understanding the severity of pinky swears and the fate of death if you ever spilled.

" Cross my heart" he nodded with all the seriousness he could muster as his little face twisted into a stern expression, a worthy match to Tommy's own infamous pout. He was a Shelby after all, Tommy thought to himself as his heart suddenly filled with pride.

" That's my boy" Tommy said as he turned to sit beside him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder as Oliver nestled into his side " My son eh? Tommy nudged him into his body as the boys eyes beamed up at his father's loving gaze. "My son..."

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x son #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby one shot #cillian murphy

[wifeofsnowbaird]

You Can't, You Can't Catch me Now I'm coming like storm into your town

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/

Masterlist

[Mentor!Coriolanus Snow x time-travel, hg-era, tribute!reader x toxic!Finnick Odair (in the Peacekeeper era)]

Warning: gore, blood, gun and knife violence, serious injury, death, physical assult, possibly non-con...as I said, maybe...

Summary: You are a rebel, the last chance of the rebellion against President Snow. You're told to go on one last mission to kill the man who massacred Panem. It took you years to understand your mission when you became [name] Lily Baird, starting from the age of five till before the reaping day of the 10th Hunger Games.

The day you began your plan to destroy President Snow before he became the villain he was meant to become.

'Both sisters, Lucy Gray and [Name] Lily Baird are a part of the Covey, and though they have been chosen as tribute for both District 12 and 9 because of our own mistakes, we hope they will stay safe.'

You knew about [Name] Lily Baird, named after her because your mother was inspired by her fiery personality and strength, but now you realize that you were transported to a time before the Baird sisters died, one of sickness and one because of Coriolanus Snow himself.

'I will kill you, President Coriolanus Snow.'

The reason you had volunteered to kill Snow was the debt your parents had owed him. They had cried and pleaded with the Peacekeepers to have some more time but they refused to react. Most District people had been forced into poverty and needed money and the Capitol granted them ways to gain some, but unfortunately, it was a loan that kept on growing. This started with President Snow’s reign and imposed slave labor on many of the people living in the poor Districts like 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12.

Your parents had died in those situations, your father being forced into the coal mines and your mother transported to District 8 to work on Peacekeeper uniforms. 

Both were killed by the very people they worked for. 

‘[Name]! Are you ok? The train was very harsh…’ A bright-eyed girl-Lucy Gray- bent over you to wake you up from your sleep. The sun shone through a slit in the ceiling, highlighting your bronze skin as you moved.

She grinned over to you while sitting on the floor, eyeing you as you moved. 

‘I loved your song, [Name] Lily, it was magical.’

You suddenly gasped, how did you…faint on stage?!

The small girl beside you nervously smiled before she extended a hand in your direction.

Lucy Gray motioned over to the extended hand and introduced you to her.

‘That’s Wovey from District 8, and I’m sure you know me!’ Her grin widened.

‘Of course I do, Lucy Gra-’

‘District 9 girl tribute, it’s time to meet your new mentor since Plinth’s son wanted your apparent sister, so your mentor is now Coriolanus Snow.’

Lucy Gray frowned, slight fear shining in her gaze. You bent your head to whisper in her ear a quote which should gift her strength.

‘Don't let them sense your fear or they will laugh with joy…’

And that is true defeat…

You had woken up in [Name] Lily Baird’s body 13 years ago, when the original [Name] Lily Baird was adopted by Lucy Gray's parents. It hadn’t taken you long to understand how to survive in the Covey after the...deaths...of your adoptive parents because you had lived in 12, the poorest District.

But you had never understood what happens in the Hunger Games besides the fact that most tributes wish they were dead.

‘Get out.’

A disgruntled Peacekeeper snatched you from the floor and pushed you toward a man with analyzing blue eyes. He smiled at you and offered a gorgeous white rose. 

‘So this is Coriolanus Snow…I take it back, Haymitch was right, he’s hot-no, focus, [Name]!

You grimaced at the rose and snatched it, scratching his hand lightly. His smile faltered a bit but once he noticed her flaming face his smile returned, brighter than before. 

‘So is this the only thing you do?’ You elaborated once you noticed his furrowed eyebrows. 

‘Bringing me roses, is that your only skill?’ He glanced at your hand gripping the rose before straightening to reply.

‘I’ll do my best to take care of you,’ You looked annoyed once you heard that and he noticed before you could even form a thought as if he wanted you to view him as a man worthy to be your mentor. ‘And I’ll make sure to keep you safe.’

You rolled your eyes before catching the movement of his hand gliding through the tresses of his platinum blond locks. 

‘I’m sure you will, Coriolanus Snow.’

Until I kill you.

‘Tigris,’ The blond-haired woman hummed, her adept fingers quickly stitching one of Grandma’am’s old shawls. ‘I think my tribute is in love with me.’

She paused, glancing at the blue-eyed man sitting beside her.

‘Why…why would you think that?’

‘She…trusts me, to keep her safe at least.’

Tigris chuckled, careful not to wake the Grandma’am at such late hours.

‘Do you want her to be in love with you? Because it seems like you have an infatuation with the singer.’

He focused on the scratch she’d marked him with.

‘Maybe…”

#tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #president snow #hunger games #coriolanus x reader #corio snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x you #corionalus snow #coryo #coryo snow x reader #coryo x reader #yandere coriolanus snow x reader #young coriolanus snow

[an-au-blog]

I wondered if I should post this for the longest time but...

The whole plot of One Piece but they're all in an asylum (with zosan and a bit frobin bc i love them)

(Disclaimer: consider all the CW that could come with a mental institution (e.g. self harm, mental illnesses, death, violence etc.))

Listen, listen I have it all planned out!

They call the wing they're in "East Blue" because it's the most east part of the facility and it's painted in blue. They keep the patients in small groups at first so that they don't act out or feel threatened. They call this group "the straw hats" after they let one of the patients propose it (the patients all agreed on it).

Luffy is taken in because he can't discern the difference between reality and fiction and thinks there's a pirate treasure he needs to find. It started after his second adopted brother's death - his brain refuses to believe it, so it creates an alternative reality in which his death was heroic and grand.

Both Nami and Sanji are taken in for self-harm and suicidal tendencies (they both failed to commit suicide, main difference was Nami did it during a depressive episode, while Sanji had tried multiple times but stopped himself every time until he almost succeed but was found by his boss- Zeff).

Zoro is highly delusional, has violent tendencies and has paranoia - he thinks anyone who looks strong is challenging him to a fight.

Brook has cotard delusion (also known as corpse syndrome), where he thinks that his body is dead/dying or doesn't exist.

Usopp is a pathological liar with severe depression. He admitted himself with the encouragement of his girlfriend, who had tried helping him after his mother's death.

Franky is a volunteer, who the patients absolutely love. He helps with renovations as well, since his day job is in construction.

Robin and Chopper are doctors. Robin started working at the institution because she used to struggle with suicidal thoughts and self worth and wishes to help those like her. Chopper is a man with dwarfism and has a nice short beard, so some of the patients with a rich imagination think he's a raccoon dog or baby rairdeer.

Jinbe is the owner of the establishment. Everyone loves him and he does his best to provide his patients with what they need. His favorite food is fish and he often orders or takes it from home to eat in his lunch break, so the other employees call him a fish man or First Son of the Sea. he thinks it's funny.

In group sessions, they all share their experiences and progress. It starts off with just Luffy telling stories of him fighting bad guys and monsters in the sea. His stories slowly started including the rest of the east wing. First it was Koby who was an intern nurse and then it was Zoro - he's selectively mute but nodded in agreement on a couple of the stories that he told.

Then he started including Nami, to which she objected at first but slowly stopped, it was nice to feel included. Usopp joined in with his own overexaggerated stories. Then it was Sanji, Luffy called him the cook of his crew, which was oddly fitting but still ironic. Yes, he was a cook before coming in but he also had a severe eating disorder. He didn't tell anyone about it. Until one day he told Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, and Nami. Luffy made it into a grand heroic story about him surviving starvation on a big rock. Sanji liked it more than having an eating disorder so he accepted it - even added his own spark to it, saying it was Zeff who helped him. (He knew it wasn't true, but he wanted to pretend that he knew Zeff long enough for him to have become the healthy father figure he was deprived of as a child.)

While on the subject of Sanji - he refused to eat. Most times he wouldn't even sit at the table. In the beginning it was so bad that the nurses had to hold him down and force feed him. Slowly he started obeying. It was mainly because they called in either Zeff or Reiju (though he got scared that she would tell the rest of the family where he was, she didn't). The doctors figured he needed a support system but he didn't trust anyone in a white coat and they couldn't ask other patients. Luffy had a thing for freedom and anyone choosing whether or not they did anything... do he was no help. Although on a couple of occasions they would see Zoro taking Sanji's plate and sitting in the corner with him. He would take two bites and feed Sanji one. He refused at first but Zoro told him that "If you don't eat, I won't either." which was one of the few times anyone had heard him talk. Though they had heard him laugh once with Luffy and he responded a few times when Usopp kept asking him questions.

Eventually, Robin came back from her honeymoon with Franky and started bonding with the patients. She became a part of Luffy's "crew" as well. Not long after Franky was welcomed as well.

When Brook came in, he was so skinny that he looked like a skeleton, so when he told Luffy he was, he believed him immediately. Brook is the only one who is allowed to use the musical instruments since he's the only one who can play. Musical therapy turns out to be quite effective, if not for anything else, for calming the patients.

There were a few "incidents" in the courtyard - first with Arlong a few other guards that got moved to another wing, then with some of the other patients. Luffy seemed aggressive on visitation day as well, not recognizing his parent after he went through top surgery, he just called him Crocodile and made up a story about Nami's visitor - her girlfriend Vivi. He would talk about how if she looked pretty like a princess, she must be one and how she was fighting for her country and he would help her.

One of the bigger fights was when he fought Enel - a patient who thought he was a god and had tried starting a cult.

Every once in a while, he'd start a fight and Zoro (and sometimes Sanji) joined in to help their friend. It happened a couple more times until one of the upper-ranked doctors (Dr Kuma) decided to separate them for a while to see if their attitude changed. It was only a few months but it seemed like they got worse. Luffy and Zoro would get all silent and non-responsive for hours sometimes days. Sanji would lose all the progress he made with his eating disorder and would try to find sharp objects to self-harm again. Nami and Usopp's emotional state would worsen as well, having full-blown panic attacks, Usopp developed paranoia and an eating disorder (but he started handling it little before getting released back with the rest of the east wing).

#one piece au #zosan #but not that much #a bit of #frobin #east blue asylum wing au #or something like that #i like that name sure... #op

[dearshelby]

No love, no more | T.S

Summary: The end of vendetta brings the crisis in Tommy's marriage to light. When his attempts of conciliation fail he refuses to face the truth, finding much more comfort in a lie.

A/N: I have absolutely no self control when it comes to this plot, I remember spending the night awake when I first had the idea a year ago. Now (hopefully), it's more realistic, in character and without 2048293839 spelling errors.

Tommy felt his heart gripping on his chest hearing his wife's laugh from across the living room. Not exactly melodic or exemplary from a lady, but genuine and deprived of worries, something he hadn't heard in months.

The end of the vendetta didn't bring the relief he thought it would, with John's death and a crisis in his marriage, he didn't have much to celebrate.

Nevertheless the party went on, Arthur talked to Bonnie with the same excitement a father would to a son, Ada and Finn seemed to be rebounding after so long apart, Lizzie and Polly had their own internal jokes going on, Linda seemed to have a hard time socializing and at last, Tommy's wife chatted with Aberama while he stood alone in a corner.

He bit his inner cheek, jealousy taking over his most rational side, he used to make her laugh, even after the war killed his youngful sense of humor his ironic or critical remarks rarely failed in putting a smile on her face.

However, he was well aware of the space growing between them, if he didn't do anything the chances of losing her were huge. Clearing his throat, he raised a toast, distracting her from Aberama and initiating his plan to get her back.

As the night fell on, the guests naturally collected themselves. Finally, Tommy was alone with her, the bedroom felt as tense as a battlefield, a step wrong and he's out of the game.

Sitting on the edge of bed while she removed her jewelry on the dressing table, he tried to start a conversation.

"It's over," he referred to the vendetta.

"...it is," she sized him up through the mirror, "the children are happy to go back to school,"

"Yeah," Tommy breathed out, surely the months every Shelby had to be recluse affected their learning process, he couldn't help but to feel guilty for that, his babies doing well in school was one of his biggest prides since he didn't have this privilege, still, at least they were alive and everything would go back to normal, "could've been worse,"

"Yeah, I wish John's children could go back too," she pursed her lips hesitantly, "y'know, sometimes I-"

"Yeah?" Tommy encouraged, surprised by the cold way she brought John up.

"Sometimes I wonder what it would've been like if none of this happened, it started with the guns and we never had peace after," she looked down at her own hands, "sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't have been easier if Polly, Martha and I still ran the business and you- you and Arthur-"

She gulped, getting completely silent. Tommy felt his lips dry staring at her. Did she just admit she wished he was dead? Taking a drag of his cigarette, he preferred to believe his paranoia got the best of him. He had to believe or he'd go mad. If one of the few things keeping him alive wished he was dead, there was no point in everything he'd done for her

"Anyways, I- hm," she continued, "think I'll take a shower before bed."

"C'here," Tommy reached for her arm, what should've been an affectionate gesture of pulling her to his lap felt awkward and forced.

Her body was rigid in his embrace, seeming to avoid touching him more than necessary. His arms locked around her waist and his lips rested on her shoulder, at the same time she held his forearms with certain pressure, as if she could push him away at any moment.

The sweet scent of her perfume intoxicated Tommy's senses, he barely remembered the last time they intimately touched each other and by then, feeling her soft skin and her comforting weight on his thigh, he craved her badly.

"I love you," he whispered, still focused on putting their marriage back on the tracks, uncomfortable silence started with her lack of answer, he had no other option but to continue, "I know I pushed you away in the last months, I was-"

"Scared," she cut him off, "I know,"

"...and it's over now," Tommy completed, "now we have all the time in the fucking world,"

"To do what?"

"Well, for me personally," he changed his tone, sounding hopeful, "to take care of you,"

She sighed, pushing his arms away from her waist and cupping his cheeks, a pout showed on her lips as if she'd just been asked to do a long, boring task.

His eyes fell to her lips darkening with lust, he was the one to initiate a kiss, slow and full of desire. An unfamiliar, complaint-like sound left her lungs as he laid her on the bed, trailing the way down to her neck and collarbones.

Usually, Tommy's passionate acts would've ignited her fire, giving her shivers and the overwhelming urge of being close to him. That night wasn't the case, she laid down in silence, watching him lift her dress and massage her thighs in a pathetic attempt to turn her on.

When he removed her underwear and put his head in between her legs, she struggled to keep quiet, regardless of everything his tongue was still skilled, licking circles on her clit as his fingers toyed with her entry.

Soon, she came undone, a weak, nearly nonexistent smile crawled into Tommy's face, that was a good sign. However, as soon as she closed her legs, pushing herself up into the mattress, far from him, he realized an orgasm wouldn't be enough to get her favor back.

He grabbed her hip, kissed the exposed part of her thigh and smacked her ass before heading to the bathroom. Tomorrow would be a new day and with some luck, she'd recognise his efforts.

The morning arrived suspiciously quiet in the Shelby household, Tommy sat alone in the large dining room, the table was already set for breakfast but his family was nowhere to be seen.

The scene looked like a joke of poor taste for those close to the family, Thomas Shelby, known for skipping meals, was the first to get on the table.

He peeked at the clock, frowning as he realised everyone was terribly late, the children would miss some classes and his wife usually didn't stay in bed until late hours.

After two or three cigarettes, the food went cold and he was ready to go search for them. It wasn't necessary when his babies ran through the door and grabbed bread from the table.

"I'm gonna miss three more classes today, daddy," Florence, the youngest, started.

"Mama said she'll call the principal to explain what happened later," Anthony, his firstborn, completed.

"Oh, yeah?" Tommy asked, since himself didn't know and his wife still hadn't shown up, "And what happened, my boy?"

"I don't know," he shrugged off.

"She forgot to wake me up," the daughter explained, "the driver will go real fast so I'll get the french class!"

"That's a rhyme!" Anthony pointed out.

As they giggled to themselves, the worried mother showed up, still wearing pajamas covered by an expensive robe.

"I told you to go straight to the car!" she scolded.

"We wanted to talk to daddy!" Florence argued.

"Well, I suppose you just did,"

With the mother's final words, the children lowered their heads and walked out, leaving her and Tommy alone.

"Flora said you forgot to wake her up," he commented.

"Tommy, I-" she whined, annoyed by his tone, "I got an important call, alright?"

"Whose call?"

"From the institute!" she took the seat beside him, "What the hell was I supposed to say? Call later, I have to get my children ready for school? The maids are here to help with this too!"

Something was deeply wrong, from her defensive and aggressive answer to the said institute call at early hours in the morning. As much as it hurted to realize, Tommy knew she was lying to him, he only had to find out why.

"At least we'll have fucking breakfast together," he ironically spat.

"Oh, isn't that great?" she retaliated, filling her mouth with a piece of cake and avoiding looking at him.

The minimum appetite he had earlier was completely gone with the conflict. All he wanted was to have breakfast with his family, mainly with her, so she'd warm up to him again.

Everything went absolutely wrong and as a matter of fact, felt worse than yesterday.

"Look, I just-" Tommy started, "I just wanted to have breakfast with my family after a fucking vendetta ended, can I do that?"

"I don't know, can you?" pouring herself a cup of tea, she stood up from the table and headed out, "I'll change off these pajamas,"

Watching her leave, Tommy squinted, thinking of whatever the fuck else he could do for her to go back to herself, because that wasn't her, that cold, dismissive woman surely wasn't the one he married. As a last shot, he decided to offer what his kin seemed to like the most about him - his money.

Another day went by and they didn't have much contact. Still, when nighttime came, they were unavoidably reunited in their shared bedroom.

With the children in bed, the house was quiet once again. If it weren't for the lights on, anyone watching from outside would think it was empty.

"Did you speak to the principal?" he asked.

"Did," she sat on the end of bed, putting moisturizer on her arms.

"And?"

"They'll have some extra homework, he said they're smart children, they'll recover soon," she explained, "and about those months they missed, they'll stay until later hours twice a week,"

"And the institute?"

"What about it?" she gulped.

"Someone called at fucking sunrise," Tommy questioned, "I imagine it must've be something important,"

"Yeah, hm-" she stuttered, "someone wanted to make an anonymous donation,"

"Oh, there's no income registers in the book,"

"Because I haven't made any yet," she argued, "what is it, Tommy?"

"Just curious,"

She scoffed, turning her focus to herself.

"I've got something for you," he continued.

Her eyes slightly widened, it had been a long time since he surprised her, "For me?"

Opening the wardrobe's drawer, Tommy took a black velvet box, he stood in front of her and revealed a diamond necklace sparkling in its expensive glory.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she quietly asked, "It's not even my birthday,"

"Does a man need a reason to gift his wife?"

"I suppose," she allowed him to clasp the jewel around her neck.

"What do you think?"

"It's beautiful," she pouted, "thank you, Tom,"

His shoulders dropped with her carelessness, she not only didn't seem excited, she seemed sad, tense about something he couldn't guess. Caressing her shoulder, he tried to get something out of her, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah,"

"So what's with that face?" his hands traveled from her shoulder to her cheek.

"Nothing, I just had a long day," in a smooth movement, she kissed and removed his hand from her.

Tommy watched her take the necklace off, walk to the wardrobe, get a blanket and make herself comfortable in bed, as if he wasn't even there, as if both he and the diamond were irrelevant. Then she peeked at him, silently asking if he wouldn't lay down.

Turning off the lights, he went back to his office, it wasn't an invitation to lay down with her, she only wanted him to end the day and stop demanding her attention. Tommy felt like he ran out of options, there was nothing to do but wait until the situation reached its peak.

Two months went by, time in which they practically lived alone, the others presence didn't add anything, few words were spoken and physical touch seemed forbidden.

No words could express how much Tommy missed his wife, to have her greeting him when he got home, to hear her excitedly dumping news from the institute on him, to feel her neediness in kisses that were meant to be a simple goodnight peck.

Frustrated and irritable, he decided to go home earlier on a Friday evening, he'd never expected the scene that welcomed him home. She happily talked to someone on the phone, laughing like she hadn't for long, realizing he was home, she put the phone down.

"You're early," she greeted.

"Who was that?" Tommy was quick in asking.

"Oh, just a friend of mine,"

"Friend," he nodded, "he must be really fucking funny, right?"

"Her," she lied, "and yes, she's really funny,"

"You should invite her over, maybe she can bring some fucking happiness to this house!"

"What the hell are you talking about, Tommy?" she shrunk her shoulders, intimidated by his loud tone.

"I'm talking about you talking on the fucking phone like everything is alright," he pointed out, "as if you hadn't fucking ignored me for two fucking months!'

Licking her lips, she looked down trying to hide the tear in her eyes. Sucking the air between her teeth, she whimpered, "I'm sorry,"

"What?" he froze, he expected anything from her except tears and an apology.

"I'm so sorry, Tom," she cried out, "I just- I didn't know what to do with everything we went through, I didn't know how to deal with it, I didn't know what to tell the children- I-

"Hey, hey-" he interrupted, guiding her into his embrace, "you could've said something,"

"Say what, Tommy? It 's pathetic!" she hid her teary face on his neck.

"I know, love," he soothed, "should've told me earlier,"

"I'm sorry,"

"I know,"

Holding her tightly against him, his most selfish side feasted on their closeness, she went back to him even if she had to fall apart for it.

"Let me make it up to you," she whispered, hands moving to his waist.

"Hm?"

"I've been such a terrible wife," she lifted her head and looked into his eyes, "and you kept up with me, let me thank you,"

"Thank me, eh?" he teased, "and how would you do that?"

"However you want me to, sir,"

Tommy gently held her neck, bringing her face closer to his. In this circumstance he could have her in any way he wanted, she wouldn't argue. Nevertheless, he didn't want roughness, he wasn't even mad at her anymore, all he wanted was to be desired by her.

"Take me upstairs, hm?" she continued, brushing the tip of their noses together.

Three hours later, they laid together in bed, while Tommy stared at the ceiling trying to find out what exactly went wrong, she was in deep slumber. Considering her tone and apologies, he expected some passionate love making or at least something that wasn't her just laying there, uninterested.

Peeking at her, he didn't know what else to do, perhaps he was the one getting mad after all, missing a sort of relationship that only happened in his head. Officially, there was nothing else to do.

The only thing to change in her behavior was from then on, she had her eyes on Tommy all the time, observing, seeming to wait for the perfect moment to something.

After another four long weeks, he learned what she was waiting for. On a warm evening, Tommy took some time away from the business and sat under a tree, enjoying the sun rays on his skin.

"Can we talk?" she asked, sitting beside him.

Arching his eyebrows in surprise, he positively nodded.

"Tommy, I don't know how to tell you this," she hesitantly started, "I don't even know if I'm doing the right thing by telling you this,"

He felt his body tense with her tone, as if it was a bomb about to shell.

"I've been avoiding it for the last months because I thought it'd be temporary, I thought it'd be something that'd end soon and I'd go back to you but- ugh-" she sighed, "There's someone else,"

Tommy's throat burnt, he couldn't even believe his first reaction was the urge to cry. Still, his face remained blank, he looked away from her and frowned, as secondary emotion, rage came in a wave.

"Who is he?" was all he managed to ask.

"It doesn't matter,"

"Yes, it does," he threateningly drawled, "I wanna know who you consider a better fuck than me,"

"It's not about the sex, Tommy,"

"What is it about then? The dresses and jewels I filled your wardrobe with? Or perhaps the driver I picked wasn't of your liking-"

"I'm not going to fight you," she cut him off, "I've said what I had to say and now there's this, he wants me to move with him,"

Tommy gulped, some fucker had been planning to take away his wife right under his nose and he hadn't done anything about it.

"And I think I will but only if I take the children with me,"

"Oh," he scoffed, "and what makes you think I'll allow that?" he challenged, in any other circumstance he would, knowing how much children usually were attached to their mothers but his ego was hurt.

"The judge will decide that," she calmly answered, "he might not let a cheater have them but he certainly wouldn't let a gangster either,"

"...you wouldn't," Tommy argued, perplexed by her coldness. His beloved wife just threatened to snitch on him.

"I don't want to, so don't force me,"

Tense, dangerous silence fell between them, both looked away from each other, without any words left to speak, they could hear the laughs of their children playing in the garden.

Few minutes passed, the longest in Tommy's life, he often had moments like this, in which his life course could be permanently altered in a matter of seconds.

"Don't do it," he started, still not looking at her.

"I'll not if you-"

"None of it, don't take the children, don't leave me," the second their eyes met, he sensed hesitation on her, so he continued, "don't you love me?"

"Tom, I-" she softened up.

"Did you ever?"

"Of course I did, a lot!" she quickly answered, "But if I say I do now I think it'd be a lie,"

"...so lie."

#tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic

[gulnarsultan]

Yandere mother-in-law Visenya Targaryen and daughter-in-law reader and yandere husband Maegor Targaryen.

~ Maegor discovers his reader first. Although he was married to Ceryse for twelve years, he still had no heir. That's why he decided to look for a woman to give him heirs. After his father's death, he will make his decision alive after adopting the dragon named Balerion, known as the Black Horror.

~ He sees the reader when he goes to the Red Fort to attend a meeting. It will immediately gather information about who the reader is. Visenya doesn't know what to decide when Maegor asks her for help. However, as soon as she sees the reader, she develops inclinations towards the reader like her son.

~ She accepts her as a daughter he never had. She believes wholeheartedly that the reader will be able to give her many grandchildren. She will encourage his son's inclinations. This does not give a good result at all. Maegor King asks his brother to annul his marriage to Ceryse. If this is not accepted, she asks permission to take the Reader as his second wife. If both requests are not accepted, he will choose another path. He gets angry and will hold grudges against his brother, the council, and anyone who opposes his wishes.

~ Maegor will make a plan to take you by force. But Queen Visenya will be more cunning. She would take you as her bridesmaid and make everyone look like you died. Maegor had immediately accepted this plan. You are soon sent to Dragonstone as Queen Visenya's bridesmaid. For a few weeks, Queen Visenya chooses to wait for you to get used to them. After a few weeks, Queen Visenya says she wants to marry you off to her son. At first you object. But for the sake of your family and Westeros, you are forced to accept his plans. They lie to everyone that you are dead. Many believe this.

~ You soon marry Maegor in accordance with both Valyrian and Westeros traditions. Queen Visenya is preparing you for the evening. Maegor is trying his best not to hurt you all night long. Maegor no longer goes to his first wife's bed. Even if Ceryse suspects something, Queen Visenya silences her. He spends every night with you. She spends every opportunity she gets with you.

~ It turns out that you are pregnant almost a month after your marriage. Maegor is very proud and Queen Visenya is very happy. Queen Visenya is spending time with you and her unborn grandchild. You are trapped by two possessive dragons that stay on top of your head throughout your pregnancy.The best food for you and the baby is brought to the Castle from various parts of Westeros.

~ You don't get rid of these two dragons even while giving birth. If you ask your mother or another family member, they will say that they are your only family and that they are with you. They do not agree to leave your side until the birth is over. They don't leave you alone no matter how long it takes. Queen Visenya wipes the sweat from your forehead and face with a cloth. Maegor holds your hand with one hand, while the other supports you on your shoulder. They both support you verbally. Maegor gently puts pressure on your belly so that the baby can come out when needed.

~ The gender of the baby born is not important. As long as you and the baby are healthy, they don't care. Maegor will say that he is not disappointed or upset that he is not the son. You will try until you become a son. Queen Visenya agrees with her son. If it's a girl, she'll want to name the baby after herself.

~ Visenya will take care of you until you are fully recovered. For the second child, he will order his son not to approach you until your body is fully healed. He refuses to put you in danger. Maegor readily agrees so as not to endanger you.

~ Queen Visenya will teach the baby Valyrian language and history. She will learn how to use swords and other weapons from her grandmother and from the best masters. Maegor will go for rides on Dragon's back with his child.

~ Every child you give birth to is loved by them.They will all be pampered and protected. They will burn anyone who tries to harm or insult them. Maegor is trying to get you pregnant as best he can. Queen Visenya wants you to give birth to her grandchildren as long as they don't harm your health. Maegor tries very hard to be the best father for children.

~ They panic a lot when you get sick or injured. They don't stop worrying until you get better and regain yourself. They will take care of you until you regain your health. They cannot entrust you to anyone in your sensitive state.

~ They're showering you with lots of presents. Clothes, jewellery, gold, luxury and expensive fabrics, books, works of art and much more. They will provide all the necessary things so that you can do your hobbies while you are in your room.

~ Maegor would never cheat on you. From the day he married you, he does not look at or touch any other woman. Even his first wife, Ceryseni, will no longer visit. No one can tell Maegor anything about it. If Cerys and her family try to do anything about it, Maegor and Queen Visenya will silence them.

~ Punishments will be more isolation. They prefer psychological and emotional punishments more. They do not hesitate to manipulate and use guilt against you when necessary.

~ You can't escape them in any way. Even if you run away, they will find you and bring you back no matter how long it takes. No one will help you with them. (Because they are afraid.) If anyone helps, they will execute them all.

#yandere maegor the curel x reader #yandere maegor targaryen #yandere maegor targaryen x reader #maegor targaryen x reader #maegor x reader #maegor targaryen #maegor the cruel #maegor x oc #yandere visenya i targaryen x reader #yandere visenya targaryen #visenya targaryen #visenya the conqueror #yandere targaryen #house targaryen #house of targaryen #targaryen x reader #visenya x reader #yandere game of thrones #yandere asoiaf