#so proceed with caution please!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ssweetiebop · 9 days

Text

Things I would like to see written more, or would write about if I could write featuring Disco Elysium:

- Harrier Du bois is a Innocence ! It would start out very subtly, with Kim catching Harry just seemingly not breathing, of course his first concussion would be that Harry’s heart must’ve just stopped, que panicked moments where Kim shakes Harry awake or semi freaks out whenever he sees Harry napping at work or just sleeping in general, because Harry is just not breathing. (Because it’s stated in game that apparently Innocence’s are said to not even breathe, they just eternal like that.) or maybe Harry just makes one too many predictions that are scarily accurate which really fucks with Kim as he entertains the idea of Harry being an Innocence, like he doesn’t believe it, but it’s a entertaining thought to ponder until Harry’s lungs suddenly glow out of nowhere, maybe Harry doesn’t notice himself or Kim convinced himself it was a trick of the light… just alot of second guesses and whatnot!

- Harry dating (and it’s not Kim) Harry, after finding out about his sexuality and finally coming to terms to it — decides it’s time to head back into the dating scene! Maybe Harry just ASSUMES Kim is taken already because I mean… it’s Kim! Kim is so cool! Of course he has a partner! (He doesn’t.) and Kim is just like wow my lungs are burning with hurt right now. Kim painstakingly supporting Harry but also dying inside hearing about all of Harry’s dates and partner(s). I just want jealous Kim honestly. Or even possessive Kim teehee… like Kim overhearing Harry has a date tonight and before Harry himself can tell him Kim abruptly asks if Harry wants to hang out tonight, wanting Harry to choose him over his date, even sweetening the deal by saying he has alot of plans of *insert literally all of Harry’s favourite activities and also maybe Kim confessing or being willing to let Harry do XYZ for once* Harry of course just blurts out ‘YEAH ILL HANG OHT WITH YOU!!’ Without thinking and is like oh shit I have a date tonight. Oh god. Do I blow my date off or Kim?? Kim realllyy smug when Harry chooses him all while acting innocent. Even “scolding” Harry when Harry admits he choose Kim over his date. Just small moments where Kim feels guilty for sabotaging his dates but also just can’t help it, he keeps purposefully somehow ruining the relationship. Of course he feels really guilty but Harry will forgive him because it led to them finally dating. Maybe Kim takes it too far or EVEM GETS CAUGHT ACTIVELY TRYING TO RUIN HARRY’S DATES and for the smallest second Harry sees Kim as some sort of jerk (sorta rightfully so!) and gets mad at Kim until later he thinks about WHY Kim was doing that.

- Body swap au ! I know there’s already some of body swaps out there, but I want more! Like the idea of Kim hearing Harry’s skills and being like ‘This is what Harry is forced to hear all the time? It’s so noisy…’ and then Harry being like ‘wow it’s so… quiet… I don’t like it! I miss my friends!’ BUT ALSO!!! BUT ALSO!!! People always do Harry and Kim! I want to see some more variety! Hell even just adding Jean to the mix sounds so fun! Jean waking up at Harry and just being absolutely mortified. I think it would be funny if the skills know right away that the person in Harry’s body right now isn’t Harry, and are deathly quiet during those first few minutes when Jean first wakes up Harry’s body, until… let’s say perspective or reaction speed helps Jean stop a mug from falling and Jean goes very still at the sound of their voices. Harry in jeans body… or maybe KIM in Jean’s?! Oh Kim would be absolutely checking himself out in the mirror (and delighted at how he can SEE!!! WITHOUT GLASSES!) before catching himself and scolding himself to be more respectful. And I think we all know how Harry would be in Kim’s body…

- Furry Elysium ! Look… here me out. we all agreed that Harry and Kim have a very dog + cat dynamic — or at the very least it’s fun to draw them as animals! But alas… I have seen almost ZERO fanfics about them as actual animals/animal-like features! I want to explore a world like disco elysium filled with animal hydrids! … do you think Jean would be a horse? Or a bird like his name suggests? Would Harry actually be a dog or would he be something else? I feel like Kim being a cat or cat-like is perfect BUT if you think of another animal Kim would fit lmk!

- THEM AS KIDS !!! BUT, BUT… I want them to turn into kids! How? Idk! The pale did it maybe?! It doesn’t have to make logical sense. Maybe they remember their adults self maybe they don’t. I just want someone to hold Harry when he’s a toddler… he deserves some soft parental love… or Jean waking up as a teenager and being absolutely pissed because of it… MAYBE they all are different ages, Harry a toddler, Kim a little boy, Jean a teenager. Or just the classic one-person-magically-turns-into-a-toddler-and-then-the-remaining-adults-have-to-come-together-to-take-care-of-said-toddler.

- Kid fic OR parent fic I know I just mention kids but this time I want one of them to HAVE a kid. Of course Kim would likely be excluded from this biological wise but adoption works too! I just like the idea of of Harry being a father or Jean awkwardly holding a youngster or Kim looking around to see if he’s alone before cooing at a cute little kid. Harry would have a blast dressing the baby up. Also imagine just Harry walking into work with a baby strapped to him on day and Jean just spits out his coffee like WHAT is HARRY doing with a baby?? And Harry is just like ‘this is my baby! And you’re the godfather… kinda rude of you to not know!’ I read some kid fics and they were so, SO sweet.

- MAGICALLY TURNING INTO AN ANIMAL ! Yes. We are pulling out ALL the classics. It doesn’t have to be a cat but I WILL be using a kitty here. I’m so sorry this one is the longest. I wanted a fic like this for so long so please allow me to ramble my ass off:

They can’t change back… or maybe when they do change back to being a human it’s not their choice! Think of ‘A Whisker Away’ type of situation. Kim waking up as a kitty absolutely terrified and thinking the one person who would be able to tell it’s him would likely be Harry, right?! Like he gets premonition and predictions and insights all the time! Surely Harry will immediately know it’s Kim! …. Harry does not know or find out actually. Harry just immediately scooping Kitty-Kim once he ‘gains it’s trust’ (but really it’s just Kim stuck between indecisiveness of just running back home or not and trying to figure this out on his own because he already trusts Harry!) and Kim allowing himself for ONCE in his life to be held and loved and pampered and cooed at without shame. BUT I also love the idea of this happening to the others too, like Harry immediately using this to get to know what Kim is like behind closed doors, feeling guilty but also just can’t help but still go and try to get adopted by Kim (newsflash, it takes FOREVER for Kim to finally let Kitty-Harry inside his apartment, and even LONGER for Kim to officially adopt Kitty-Harry, (bonus points if Kim is still in/at precinct 57) but then ! Kim wants to introduce Harry to his cat! uh-oh! Kitty-Harry also kinda afraid of Jean’s reaction to Kitty-Harry but going to be nosy anyways and turns out — Jean is a big animal lover! It barely takes any convincing for Jean to decide to adopt Harry. Harry feeling jealous that he doesn’t get this soft side of Jean but also gives Harry a new perspective on Jean overall. Que Kitty-Harry awkwardly being owned by two of his friends and THEN also imagine them both talking about the cat they own and finding out it’s the same kitty and they both feel sorta backstabbed(?) or are like ‘wow my/our cat isn’t loyal…’ Jean as a Kitty sounds very amusing… just hissing and very annoyed that they don’t clock it right away that it’s him! Knocking over mugs to get their attention and whatnot, getting scolded and put in kitty jail.. :( !

- SWAP AU! Do I really have to go into detail here? I love the idea of a ‘very, very sane’ Harrier du bois and just an absolutely pathetic failure of Kim Kitsuragi in the swap au… shout out to @/Danielcalmdown0 on Twitter for the new perspective/dynamic on this au!! Kim doesn’t own the kineema in this au because they gave it to a more dedicated officer and Kim is just… absolutely heartbroken over it, but also a bit petty and jealous like ‘I WOULDVE TAKEN CARE OF IT THE BESTEST!’ I wish people discussed Jean and Harry’s relationship in this au more though! I like to think in this particular au they would have a bit of a more father-son dynamic?? MAYBE? not necessarily father-son, but something close for sure, just older figure Jean looks up too… (Maybe Harry baby’s or coddles Jean too much in this au and it PISSES Jean off.) would he still be his brooding self?! Let’s just say yes. I think Jean would have a bit of a crush on this Harry, of course he denies it to himself but it’s there, until Kim joins the picture then its pathetic loser vs pathetic loser and Harry wanting them to be friends but it doesn’t really work to much at first… they figure it out later though. IDK! I have a lot of ideas! And a lot of them contradict eachother!

I have alot more ideas. But I been typing for far too long so I’m gonna call it wraps. If you read the entirety of this I love you. AND if you’re a writer… and you get inspired by ANY of these and if you write it?? Please let me know! I would love to read it!

57 notes · View notes

mxrtified777 · 6 months

Text

please read the summary and reviews for this cologne. It's hilarious

(some of my favorite summaries below the cut)

#WARNING FOR THE LINK: THE FRAGRANCE NOTES OF THE COLOGNE ARE VERY GROSS TO SAY THE LEAST. PROCEED WITH CAUTION #ask me about what fragrances i think each ibvs character would like/wear please ask me abou #my art #nevin jovel #ibvs #chris jackson #cologne shopping gone HORRIFICALLY WRONG #i dont even they sell this cologne at retail places. im pretty sure you can only get it online #but im obsessed with it and i want it so badly #stfu chris #doodles #fragrance

46 notes · View notes

tending-the-hearth · 10 months

Text

Also Jasmine almost kills Jafar using dark magic and we get a whole genie backstory about how his wife died in the apocalypse within the djinn’s world

#it’s WILD #and also more graphic than the other books #so if you’re planning on reading this one #please proceed with a little caution #bc i was not prepared for someone getting their head ripped off #like it was still an absolutely incredible story #and probably one of my favorites in the series #but just a little word of caution #twisted tales #a twisted tale #twisted tales series #princess jasmine #aladdin

55 notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 1 year

Note

Have you thought about a Tomura-nii? 🥺

ooooh my god anon

tw: pseudocest (adopted siblings), coercion, taking advantage of a younger sibling’s naive and innocent nature, implied size difference (reader is smaller than tomura), female reader, virgin!tomura, masturbation, blood, noncon, overstimulation, blowjobs, use of the word daddy to describe adoptive father, honestly just really fucking nasty and genuinely disgusting, please be careful with this lil piece words: 792

i have!!! i just feel like he’d be really fucking gross, you know??? disgusting in the most heinous way, like flawless tomura but a hundred times worse. i feel like he’d totally be a shut-in, completely inexperienced because your adoptive father (afo) never lets either of you—his fully grown adult children—out of his or kurogiri’s watchful protection. but that doesn’t mean there aren’t times when they aren’t looking.

tomura-nii has never been touched, romantically or sexually, by anyone else, but he is an avid consumer of porn + hentai, so much so that it borders on addiction. and eventually, it just isn’t enough. it isn’t enough to spend hours locked away in his room, jerking his cock until it’s red and wrecked, skin chafed so bad its flaking and peeling and bleeding, thin little wounds that weep crimson staining the lines of his sweaty palm a watery pink. it isn’t enough to throw hundreds and hundreds of his father’s money at those online cam girls, making them do unspeakable acts and recording it all for him. it isn’t enough, he needs more, he needs real; something he can feel, something he can touch, something he can own and mark and sink his teeth into—flesh and blood and bone filling his hands and yielding beneath his fingers and quivering around his cock.

he needs you.

and sure, he’s sheltered, but you’re even more sheltered, not even allowed access to the internet without daddy’s heavy supervision—so when he sees you, his innocent, naive, totally fucking clueless little sister, he knows he can manipulate you into doing whatever the fuck he wants you to, because nii-san said so, and nii-san knows best, right? nii-san is older, wiser, the boss, and what he says goes, always. he’s basically second in command beneath your adoptive father; even kurogiri seems to bend and break to his every will and whim and wish.

so who are you to say anything, to know any better, against your bigger, smarter, better brother? who are you to deny him, to say ew and no and gross and it’s wrong! when he slinks into your bedroom in the middle of the night, waking you with his ragged pants and the vigorous slap of his fist against his pelvis, and streaks that lacy little nightgown with thick strokes of glistening cream, quickly cooling as they seep into the dainty fabric, heavy and gelatinous against your skin?

who are you to refuse him, when he asks if he can see how pretty your pussy is, when he asks if he can play with it, unexperienced fingers grinding and pinching until your rubbed-raw clit is swollen and your trembling thighs are stained with copious amounts of your own slick and your eyes are lidded and glassy, vision downy at the edges and bleary with tears, because it (finally) feels so good, too good, that you’re fucking sobbing?

who are you to reject him, when he says he wants to show you his cock, when he tells you to hold it in your soft little palms and pet it until it’s oozing something sticky and shimmering all over your skin, when he demands that your lick your hands clean, that you put the head in your mouth and suckle on it, that you glide the tip of your tongue, rounded and hard, over the slit as fast as you can—back and forth, back and forth, until he’s shoving the entire thing into your mouth and he’s stuffing your throat full of something thick and acrid?

nii-san says that it’s okay, that this is normal and what good little sisters are supposed to do, that brothers and sisters who love each other so much do this all the time, and don’t you love him, too? don’t you want to show him just how much you love him? just how perfect and obedient you are?

and nii-san would never lie to you, would never lead you astray, would never ever want to hurt you, so you should believe everything he says without question, right? right.

and, christ, you’re so fucking good, so sweet and precious and daddy’s flawless, faultless little rule-abiding princess, adhering to every order and regulation given to you. but daddy doesn’t deserve you, or your good nature and kind heart and eager-to-please tendencies; not when tomura sees you more often, takes care of you better than daddy ever has or ever will, so shouldn’t you be his flawless, faultless little rule-abiding little princess, too? nii-san deserves your attention so much more than daddy does, don’t you think? you owe him this much, yeah?

of course. of course you do.

#WHEWWWWW #please please PLEASE heed the warnings alright i triggered myself writing this #if you have any sort of incest trauma at all proceed with extreme caution #stay safe my friends <333 #anon isn't he so disgusting #he’s SO disgusting #eeeee hehehehehe #tw pseudocest #tw noncon #tw coercion #tw blood #i hope u enjoy this anon bb i used it as a writing exercise so its totally unedited HEHE #have a lovely night and stay safe n hydrated!!#inky.bb #clari gets mail #inky.tomura #inky.tomura nii

78 notes · View notes

caitlynmeow · 2 months

Text

Title: Dear Diary

Fandom: Resident Evil Village

Characters: Alcina Dimitrescu, Bela Dimitrescu, Cassandra Dimitrescu, Daniela Dimitrescu, Mother Miranda, Donna Beneviento, Karl Heisenberg, Mia Winters, Rosemary Winters

Chapter summary:

Dear diary, I really can’t help but worry about her. Part of writing this is to be truthful about this whole situation and if I'm being honest, my sister is not doing okay at all. [...] I’ve seen how traumatized she is, and I wonder if she will ever go back to the way she was before. Some things are major triggers and there is no way around it.

#updated the tags so please proceed with caution!!#house dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #resident evil village #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil 8 #alcina dimitrescu #re8 #bela dimitrescu #donna beneviento #mother miranda #ao3 fanfic #resident evil village fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 writer #fanfiction #fanfic

7 notes · View notes

abla-soso · 6 months

Text

Important thread:

X \ ❥ شمس على X: "Zionists lies are Zionist confessions Thread:" (twitter.com)

#palestine #gaza #fuck israel #israel is an apartheid state #israel is a terrorist state #ethnic cleansing #genocide #this thread has graphic videos and pictures of dead Palestinians #so please proceed with caution

12 notes · View notes

peninkwrites · 2 months

Text

Karl and Quackity (don't) Date - Ch 15 of ?

Tubbo is brave, Schlatt is paranoid, and Quackity is fed up with both of them.

[CW: abuse, alcohol, violence, guns]

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 14

Mafia AU

The progression had been so gradual. From the earliest days of their relationship, Schlatt only giving him a slap only at the peak of a heated argument, giving backhanded compliments alongside seemingly genuine ones, on bad days withholding affection even when Quackity was so obviously starved for it; to now, where Quackity is not only afraid Schlatt will kill him but has certifiable near misses to back it up, he doesn’t know how that shift had passed by so unnoticed. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so tolerant in the beginning, like a frog in a pot of boiling water, but it’s too late for that now.

Not to say Schlatt hadn’t figured out ways to hold onto him early on, well before the need for all out death threats. Over the course of the first six months of their relationship, Schlatt sunk his claws in deep. He would be sweet and caring and give Quackity the attention he was so starved of; intermittently he’d cut off that attention until Quackity was panicked over what he’d done, desperately vying for affection, which Schlatt would finally give. Then, Schlatt would threaten to leave him, and Quackity would beg Schlatt to never let go, to sink his teeth in if it would help him hold on tighter, because he was already convinced that he needed Schlatt to survive. Not just physically, but Quackity needed Schlatt’s touch like he needed water, he needed his praise like he needed air, and he’d found he didn’t need food as much as he thought he did.

Two years on, Quackity was beginning to accept that while he had changed far more than Schlatt had, Schlatt still had a hold on him in more ways than one.

So Quackity goes to the hostage exchange, because why wouldn’t he? Why would it be a big deal if nothing happened, right? Fuck, Quackity is praying Schlatt lets this go. It’s already unnerving that he’s clearly had this shred of paranoia stirring for weeks before now. What if it’ll remain under the surface until he finds he needs another excuse to fuck him up?

The setup is typical. Guns watching their backs, Tubbo waiting gloomily to count the cash. One of the men ringing the room is the same one tasked with following him; Morelli. He avoids Quackity’s gaze. A bold choice on Schlatt’s part. What if Quackity recognized him and connected the dots now? That, or this is Schlatt’s way of testing how good of a job the guy was doing, staying out of Quackity’s sight. Quackity is good at pretending not to recognize people.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Schlatt snaps his fingers for them to open the doors. They don’t.

“No one has showed yet, Boss,” the man standing to the right of the door speaks up, and with the uneasy glances he gives his nearest comrade, he’d been nominated to give the bad news.

“The fuck do you mean no one has showed yet?” Schlatt scoffs. “Do they think their fucking wife, their fucking mother, their apparent loved one,” he says the word mockingly, “is just feeling all nice and cosy in the cellar?!”

The man knows better than to speak, watching Schlatt with bated breath.

“Fucking hell… fine, fine, I guess we’re killing her then! Their loss!” Schlatt says it so loudly Tubbo flinches.

“Boss, I mean, shouldn’t we wait for a minute? Just to see?” Quackity asks.

“Why the fuck would I do that? I gave them the time, and if they’re not here, they’re not here–” Schlatt is cut off by the front door being forced open. “What the fuck is this?!” He snaps as eight armed men enter, one for each of them. Considering one of their numbers is a kid, they’re still outnumbered.

“We’re here for Jennifer Bartlet and we’re not leaving without her,” the man at the head of the group calls out as the others aim their guns at Schlatt and his following.

Fuck. Quackity hates a shoot out. Why the fuck would these morons waste their hostage fund on mercenaries?!

“Yeah, and I gave you a fuckin’ price tag.” Schlatt laughs, unafraid to the point of suicidality. If Quackity were a bit more suicidal himself, he’d smack him. There is a weighted pause wherein no one bends to Schlatt’s whim. Schlatt seems unperturbed and shrugs. “Fine. Kill ‘em, then we kill the hostage.”

Quackity doesn’t know who shot first, but both sides are definitely fucking shooting now. Quackity is well versed in hitting the ground fast. He sees Tubbo has done the same, hiding himself behind the stairs. Quackity sees his ingenious partner has remained on the steps, high up and an obvious target, but he’s not the one firing a gun, so the mercs are more occupied with his dogs.

Quackity thinks he’s coping relatively well. And he thought he saw Tubbo duck behind the banister, but evidently fucking not anymore since he’s currently standing between Quackity and the barrel of a gun.

“Whoa whoa, stop!” Quackity yanks Tubbo behind him, and they get lucky. The man hits the ground in a spray of blood from a rogue bullet, dead or alive, he won’t be doing any more damage.

“What the fuck?!” Quackity hisses frantically to Tubbo, pulling him back behind the steps. “Are you fucking kidding me, Tubbo–?!” Quackity is distracted by Tubbo grabbing onto his tie and dragging him around the corner into the hall, “whoa whoa whoa, what’re you–” Quackity narrowly missing a bullet piercing the wallpaper above his head.

“We should– We should get the lady out,” Tubbo says, a tremor in his voice but shockingly steady. He’s let go of Quackity’s tie, trusting him to follow. “While he’s distracted, we c-can–” Tubbo flinches and ducks when the sound of another gunshot echoes down the hall, but it wasn’t toward them.

“What are you talking about?!” Quackity is almost shouting at him.

“The lady in the basement!” Tubbo snaps.

Quackity laughs, high and frantic. “Are you fucking kidding me, Tubbo?! The only leverage against the people currently trying to–” Quackity sees someone turn the corner at the end of the hall and drags Tubbo into the kitchen. “To kill us?!”

“If we don’t you know he’s gonna kill her!” Tubbo snaps back, rushing to the cellar door.

“If we don’t get the fuck out of here, Tubbo, something is gonna kill us!” Quackity grabs onto Tubbo’s arm, dragging him back. He desperately tries to think. Tubbo seems to be doing the same. Quackity grabs a stool.

“Oh, good idea!” Tubbo grabs one as well, to Quackity’s continued bafflement.

Quackity wedges the legs of the stool between the wall and the door handle, barricading it best he can in the circumstances and spins to the back wall of the kitchen, pulling his beanie down tighter and bottling the urge to throw a fucking fit. “Okay, okay, we get out the door into the alley and we run for it–”

Quackity is distracted by Tubbo making one stupid decision after another, as he’s taken his barstool and has started trying to bash it against the padlock on the cellar door. Quite loudly. “What the fuck are you doing?!” Quackity lunges to grab the stool from him before it can make another thud giving them away. So far he thinks the gunshots have covered for them, but it’s not going to last if Tubbo keeps it up.

“Me?! What’re you doing?!” Tubbo says fiercely. Quackity is taken aback. Tubbo is different. Tubbo stares up at him, affronted and unyielding, wrenching the stool back from him. “I’m not leaving when I know what’s going to happen, and neither should you! At least not until we get her out with us!” He nods back toward the cellar door and gears up for another swing.

Quackity flinches when Tubbo bashes the stool against the lock once more. It’s scratched the paint, it’s starting to loosen the screws on the latch, there’s no way of them hiding this happening at all now but if they get the fuck out of here, they can blame it on the mercenaries.

Tubbo stops when there’s a dull thud against the kitchen door. Both of them freeze, staring at the door handle as it rattles. Rather than freezing up, rather than that meek, rabbit in a headlight panic Quackity expects, to his continued exasperation, Tubbo starts attacking the lock with far more vigor.

“What the fuck is wrong with this door?!” Of fucking course it’s Schlatt’s voice. He’s a goddamn cockroach. It’s like he’s allergic to bullets.

Tubbo flinches at the three sharp bangs against the door, but he remains resolutely focused on breaking the lock. It’s starting to tear away now, the wood is splintering, at the same time, Quackity is the one frozen in the middle of the room as he watches his makeshift door jam rattle ominously against the doorhandle.

“Who’s in there?! Unless you wanna eat lead, I’d start fucking talking!” Schlatt shouts against the wood.

“I-It’s me! Schlatt, it’s me!” Quackity doesn’t say Tubbo’s name. There’s no fucking hiding what they’ve done, but maybe he can shove Tubbo out the back and take the stool so Schlatt thinks he was busting the door down. Maybe he can even lie and say he was trying to get to the hostage first. Maybe that will even work and he’s not about to kill himself or, if he’s being optimistic, just sign himself up for some egregious harm. It won’t fucking work if Tubbo keeps hitting the fucking door.

“Aw, guns too scary for you, sweetheart? I thought you’d stopped being such a pussy,” Schlatt’s patronizing drawl doesn’t sound suspicious, but certainly irritable. “Open the goddamn door.”

“One sec! It’s stuck!” Quackity calls back. He doesn’t even think he’s buying them time, because Schlatt is already trying to ram the door open, but anything to make Schlatt think they weren’t defying him deliberately.

Tubbo pauses once, staring at Quackity, daring him to open that door. Quackity stares back, daring him to hit the lock again. Tubbo maintains eye contact with Quackity as with one last hit, the lock finally clatters off the cellar door and Tubbo drops the barstool with it. He’s opening the door now. He’s seriously going to try to run downstairs and get that woman out the back door before Schlatt can get his dogs to break the fucking door down, which they’re bound to do any second.

So Quackity does something he hopes Tubbo will eventually forgive him for. He grabs onto Tubbo by the collar of his shirt and yanks him away from the cellar.

“What’re you doing?!” Tubbo cries out.

Right in time for the other barstool to finally clatter loose and for the door into the kitchen to bang open. Even then, even as Schlatt enters the room followed by four gunmen, Tubbo is still trying to get to the cellar, Quackity can feel him trying to pull away even as he cannot comprehend what’s possessed him. Quackity grabs him by the shoulders, shoving him against the fridge. “Stop trying to act strong! Stop trying to act strong!” He shakes him roughly, Tubbo’s eyes widen, stunned, mouth hanging open in wordless fear that Quackity has to ignore. “You’re just a fucking kid!” Quackity shouts in his face, harsh as he is terrified. He can deal with Schlatt, he doesn’t know how to cope with Tubbo being unpredictable.

Tubbo doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t even look as Schlatt sends someone down into the cellar. He just stares at Quackity, and once more Quackity cannot bury the thought that he needs to teach Tubbo how to have any semblance of a poker face, because right now, that kid’s miserable fucking expression bleeds hurt. All that fear and confusion as he stares up at him, and it’s so raw Quackity feels like he needs to cut the kid’s heart out before it crushes him.

“You’re a fucking kid,” Quackity snarls again. It’s all he can do. And all of his terror on Tubbo’s behalf comes out vicious and cruel, his hands still pressed to Tubbo’s shoulders, refusing to let him move.

Quackity doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that three days ago, Schlatt had told Tubbo something. Utterly matter-of-fact, Schlatt had told his son that he’s not allowed to get out of this family alive. It doesn’t matter when, or even if he turns eighteen, because Tubbo knows too much now. He’s signed into this family for life and it’s over Schlatt’s dead fucking body that he runs away from this.

That changes things for Tubbo. All he had been able to hope for was running away the moment he turned eighteen. In four years time, it will change things even more.

Quackity lets go. Tubbo doesn’t try to get to the cellar.

“The fuck were you two playing at?” Schlatt cuts in.

Quackity turns back to face him, and Schlatt glances between them.

“My idea, Boss. Thought it was best we get to her first,” Quackity says dully. There’s a gunshot in the basement and Quackity flinches. He doesn’t look back at Tubbo.

“And you kept me locked out why?” Schlatt sneers.

Quackity shrugs and pretends his heart isn’t still pounding in his ears. “Didn’t react fast enough. Sorry.”

“I guess I’ll pretend to believe that bullshit, but what gives you the fucking right to go running off making decisions behind my back? Eh?” Schlatt steps closer, towering over him like always. “We’ve discussed this, baby! Your job is to stand there and look pretty while me and the boys do the actual work. Somehow I seem to find myself tripping over you instead. When you should definitely know not to get in my way.”

Quackity is already running on too much adrenaline. “Maybe you shouldn’t start a fucking gun fight without any fucking caution next time!” Quackity shouts in his face and he knows what happens next. He braces, but it still hurts, Schlatt’s gaudy rings digging into his cheek when the man backhands him hard enough he stumbles. His cheek stings and he wonders if it was enough to draw blood but he doesn’t reach up to check. He refuses to react at all. None of this satisfies the frustration boiling in his chest.

Schlatt tuts him. “Why the attitude, Quackity? If you want me to hit you so bad, how about you just ask next time? Didn’t know you were into that.”

“Come on, Boss. Lay off. He’s just… he’s freaked out from the fire fight. Maybe cut him some slack?”

Quackity looks past Schlatt to Morelli, who had dared to speak, stunned. Schlatt scowls at Quackity’s expression, before turning back to the man.

Schlatt laughs in his face. “You’re lucky I don’t cut out your fucking tongue. You don’t have the fucking right. Why the hell do you give a shit, eh? You don’t know him,” Schlatt sneers very deliberately, a warning, daring him to fuck this up.

Morelli has the survival instinct to back down, turning on a dime. “Sorry, Boss. Didn’t mean to overstep.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought. Now, if you’d meant to, I’d just fucking kill you.” Schlatt says. “You know better than to mouth off.”

Morelli just nods. He does not acknowledge the obvious threat, nor the indignity of a grown man voicing any thought being referred to as mouthing off.

“Get this cleaned up and get out of my sight,” Schlatt waves them off. He grabs onto Quackity’s arm tightly, dragging him back into the hall. Quackity doesn’t look back at Tubbo. He doesn’t want to know what that kid’s face looks like after that woman was shot. Quackity sees only four dead in the front entryway, a couple of them are theirs, the other two from the mercenaries. The rest must have decided it wasn’t worth it and fled. Schlatt stops behind the stairs, cornering him against the wall.

“What was that about, Quackity?” Schlatt finally lets go, staring at him, sharp and accusing.

“I told you, I was just trying to get to her first and the kid followed, I wasn’t trying to keep you out, it just–”

“No, not that– not whatever,” Schlatt waves him off dismissively. “You don’t think they give a fuck about you, do you?”

Quackity stares up at him, baffled. “Uh, who?”

“The boys!” Schlatt gestures irritably toward the hall. “My boys.” He paces for only a moment before turning back to close in on Quackity. “You’ve got no idea the shit they say when we’re not in the room. You think that son of a bitch is any different? Huh? He’s acting like a goddamn gentleman right now, but you think he’s not laughing along with all them?” Schlatt says it like an accusation, and Quackity knows his answer matters, but he’s just so startled. Quackity hadn’t viewed Schlatt as the jealous type until recently. In the beginning he acted like giving Quackity any attention was a chore, like Quackity being allowed to grace his presence at all was something Quackity had to cling to like a lifeline. This is certainly not that. And it sure as hell isn’t better.

“I mean…” Quackity laughs, and has yet to partake in caution. “How would you know what they’re saying if you’re not there either?”

Schlatt smiles. “Because sometimes I am there, and I can tell them to shut the fuck up, or I can join in.” Schlatt reaches out and pinches his cheek.

Quackity’s irritation is finally replaced by hollow disgust, which is exactly what Schlatt had been hoping for he presumes. Quackity doesn’t want to know. He does know they’re not all like that. Schlatt acts like such a fucking know it all, but Quackity knows it means something when they look at him different, like he’s an actual person. He won’t hold it against them for laughing along when Quackity has done the same thing.

“Right,” Quackity laughs and it sounds strained. “Is that supposed to make me feel better, Schlatt? Doesn’t exactly paint you in a very good light, now, does it?”

Schlatt startles him by grabbing onto his shoulders, not too tightly, but unnerving nonetheless. “You know I’m the only thing standing between you and those animals?” He expects Quackity to look him in the eye, demanding he not merely listen but understand Schlatt’s point. “You think I’m harsh, or… or demanding–” Schlatt cuts himself off with a brief, wet cough that makes Quackity shut his eyes. “Or whatever it is you bitch about all the goddamn time, do you have any fucking clue how much worse it could be? I am the only thing keeping them off of you. They don’t care if you fucking live or die. I weren’t here?” Schlatt leans in closer, hissing a warning, “they’d be on you like fucking wolves. You’d be dead by tomorrow.”

Quackity buries a shiver, hitting the wall behind him as he steps just another inch back. He wants Schlatt to let go, so he nods. Even if he refuses to believe Schlatt in entirety, it still makes his skin crawl. It’s bad enough when they agree with Schlatt and just call him cute or stupid.

“Good. I’m glad you understand,” Schlatt says, and that illusory calm returns. He brushes out the wrinkles from Quackity’s shirt. He continues, voice slow and measured and raspy. “Now, we’re gonna go back in there, and the brat is gonna explain to me why he wanted to bust into the basement so bad.”

Quackity’s heart drops to his stomach. Schlatt glances over his shoulder as there’s some well-timed shouting from down the hall; Quackity is more distracted by what Schlatt has said.

“Schlatt, that’s not–”

“You’re gonna tell me that’s not what happened?!” Schlatt cuts him off harshly, voice rough and weakened. “Because it sure as hell wasn’t you, not from the way you were chewing him out.”

“I-It wasn’t– He–” For once Quackity can’t think of a lie fast enough.

This seems to confirm whatever suspicion Schlatt had, as he gives Quackity an almost understanding nod, and heads back toward the kitchen.

Someone else had the same idea as Schlatt. Tubbo’s title as a mob prince gives him no authority nor apparently protection. In the brief period out of the room, something must have gone down, because Tubbo is currently hunched over the kitchen sink and two of Schlatt’s dogs seem seconds from a brawl.

“Whoa whoa whoa, the fuck is going on in here?!” Schlatt barks. “Which one of you fucking rats hit the kid?!” He glares between the two of them.

Quackity goes to Tubbo, without a word getting him to turn to face him, revealing a bloodied nose still pouring into the sink. Quackity tilts his head back so he can assess the damage. Not broken, he doesn’t think, but Quackity sees Tubbo failing to hold back tears. Quackity turns away from him to wad up some paper towels to stem the flow of blood. Schlatt waits for an answer.

“Hello?! Can you two not fucking hear or some shit, I asked who fucking hit my kid?!”

Quackity goes to the freezer to dig up some ice, glancing back at the pair of them. He doesn’t give a shit what happens to the man responsible. He’s for once grateful for Schlatt’s rage, because if Schlatt hadn’t started talking, Quackity would’ve gotten himself hurt doing something instead. Morelli and some prick Quackity doesn’t know the name of stand in silence. Quackity thinks Morelli isn’t a snitch. He also doesn’t think the guy is the type to hit kids, hence, they’re waiting for the other man to crack.

“You saw it, Boss! He must’ve been trying to–”

“Ah, ah ah!” Schlatt silences him with a tut and a raised hand. There’s a long pause, and Quackity has a feeling the old man is holding his breath to dodge another coughing fit. It’s easier to hide the other symptoms, the fatigue, even the dizziness, but that cough, that’s harder. “I didn’t ask you what you fucking thought he did, I asked if you fucking hit him.”

“I…” The man struggles to defend himself.

Schlatt sighs, grumbling half under his breath as he gets out his revolver.

“Hold on! Hold on a sec!” The man shouts hoarsely, backing up toward the back door.

Schlatt pays him no mind. He snaps open the cylinder and sighs more loudly. “Anyone got a bullet?” A pause. None of them are going to stop Schlatt, but maybe there’s some semblance of comradery there as no one replies. “Quackity. You didn’t shoot, correct? You ran for it with the kid?” He says snidely.

Quackity nods. He knows it makes him look weak, to immediately act as if on Schlatt’s side after the man hit him and dragged him out for a lecture, but he doesn’t give a shit. He’s on Tubbo’s side, not Schlatt’s. He unholsters his own revolver and feels a hand hold on tightly to his arm.

“Big Q,” Tubbo says, voice thick and muddled.

Quackity doesn’t respond. He hands Schlatt his gun.

“Big Q,” Tubbo says again, and Quackity knows he sounds horrified behind the blood in his nose.

“I– He disobeyed you! It was the kid! He was the one trying to get downstairs! Come on, Boss, wouldn’t you have done the same fucking thing-?” The man falls silent, holding out his hands as if to stop a bullet that way and flinching back as the gun goes off. A bullet is embedded in the cabinet to the man’s left.

“Apologize.” Schlatt says coolly.

“I’m sorry! I– I wasn’t tryna go behind your back–”

“Not to me.” Schlatt cuts him off.

Despite the gun on him, the man still grimaces at the thought of being made to apologize to a child. “Sorry, kid.”

“It’s fine!” Tubbo says, voice strained and high.

“See? Was that so hard?” Schlatt sneers. “Are we all clear, here? Crystal? None of you get to hit him. None of you.”

One of the few good things to say about Schlatt is he never flat out hits Tubbo. If Quackity thinks about it, the most he thinks he’s ever seen him do was throw something near him or shove him or hold on too tight. For a brief, wild moment Quackity thinks that’s better. He knows that’s ridiculous. Harm is harm. Schlatt is still a hypocrite.

Schlatt waits until there are a few nods of ascent before proceeding. “Good.” He glances back at Tubbo, and then again to the man responsible. “Somebody break his nose.” No one moves. “Am I speaking fucking French? Can you not hear all the sudden? You, you already gave it your best shot, eh? Try again,” he gestures with the gun for Morelli to hit him.

Morelli winces, but he does as he’s told. Quackity sees Tubbo turn back to face the sink when there’s an awful crunch, and the man hits the ground, sniveling like a coward. Tubbo’s nose isn’t actually broken, but he still took a punch better than this prick. Tubbo meets Quackity’s gaze and quickly looks away, but from that glance, Quackity knows Tubbo is upset with him. Quackity doesn’t fucking care. He does care, but nowhere near enough to regret it. He didn’t sign up for this shit, but he’s in it now. Has been for years. He keeps Tubbo safe. From Schlatt and all else. Quackity is startled when Schlatt turns and offers his gun back to him. Quackity is quick to holster it, relieved that he hadn’t shot the guy if only because Tubbo would’ve taken it personally.

“Come on. While these fuckin’ morons clean up, I want a drink.” He nods Quackity to the door.

Schlatt has his drink. Then another, then another. Then another. Unsurprisingly, that’s how the evening goes. When Quackity finally drags him back upstairs, he’s all but dead weight. Quackity thinks he might be trying to sedate the cough out of himself deliberately, but getting fucking wasted does nothing to help with the dizziness, as Quackity well knows from Schlatt leaning away from him before staggering back onto him.

Quackity finally dumps Schlatt onto his side of the bed where the man remains upright, barely. Quackity takes a pause to catch his breath. He’d stopped after two drinks when he realized he’d have to drive them home from the speakeasy he’d bullied into hosting them. Not Niki’s, of course.

Quackity recovers somewhat, and sighs as Schlatt remains sitting there, making no effort to go to bed. Giving in, Quackity leans down and undoes the laces on Schlatt’s smarmy oxfords. He feels Schlatt clumsily try and run a hand through his hair and brushes him away, pulling off one shoe as if undressing a toddler.

“That fuckin’ kid, he’s always been scared as shit. Freaked out by gunshots before he knew what they were…” Schlatt mutters.

Quackity pauses on the laces of the other, looking up at Schlatt. “What?”

“The… the kid! You know the kid,” Schlatt scoffs derisively.

“Tubbo?”

“Yeah, unless we got another one running around I don’t know about,” Schlatt says drolly. He’s coherent enough to talk, apparently, but he doesn’t do anything to help or stop Quackity from slipping off his other shoe.

Quackity gets up, deigning not to be on the floor for the rest of this ordeal, and reaches out to unclasp Schlatt’s belt. Schlatt starts trying to undo the buttons on Quackity’s pants.

Quackity smacks his hand away. “Nope.”

Schlatt moodily returns his hands to his sides. Another benefit to Schlatt’s growing weariness is he’s quicker to tolerate a firm no. He’d always grudgingly get there eventually, but Quackity appreciates that it’s less of a fight.

Schlatt resumes his tangent like there was never any pause. “Y’know, took him three years to say a word, and he skipped right to complete sentences! Took me by surprise, I was about to call him a dud and have the boys put him in a sack and toss him in the river, y’know? Like a bag of kittens,” Schlatt laughs wetly, Quackity pauses, staring at Schlatt in stunned disgust. “I’m kidding, Jesus fucking Christ, you think I’d kill my own blood? Why d’you think I’ve kept him around this long?”

Schlatt meanders back to his original topic, while struggling drunkenly with the buttons of his shirt. “First… first words were shut the fuck up. Ha! Probably heard it from me. He didn’t say it to me, to be clear, otherwise I’d have smacked him for getting mouthy and then he probably would’ve been mute for another three years. Made me laugh, though. Y’know…” Schlatt seems to struggle to think something through, enough so that he has to pause with his shirt buttons to focus on it. He lets Quackity pick up where he left off.

“I dunno who actually taught him to talk. Must’ve just picked it up from the boys, I guess. He had a nanny for the first two years or so, but the turnover rate was so fucking high. None of ‘em had the guts to stick it out––Actually, one of ‘em tried to take Tubbo with them. Some… some former military type, an old Captain or some shit and decided he’d rather deal with diapers?” Schlatt scoffs. “Thought he wouldn’t be a pussy about my business with that kind of history, but nah. He tried to run for it. With the brat. Bastard should’ve drugged him or something, you can’t smuggle out a crying baby!” Schlatt points at him intently, as if he’s offering pertinent advice before once more drifting off, hands slack at his sides. “That was probably the last one. Not gonna risk someone stealing my fucking blood. So, at that point… I dunno.”

“Wait!” Schlatt snaps his fingers. “I remember! I think… I think it was some British pricks, I dunno. They thought it was funny trying to make him repeat the shit they said, especially after his first words were so fuckin’ ridiculous coming out of that tiny mouth. They had that kid swearing like a sailor by the time he was three. And… and they’re responsible for the fucking accent he’s got… back then I had a whole ring of Brits running around with me… probably saw him more than I did...”

“That’s how the kid learned to talk?” Quackity asks, his initial disgust traded for curiosity as he pulls Schlatt’s shirt off of him, leaving him in a white undershirt disturbingly damp with sweat. “How does he sound like the fucking Queen now?”

“Fuck if I know, sometimes I think he started with the– the saying please and thank you and sorry, sir!” he says each phrase mockingly, “just to… just piss me off…”

“Right,” Quackity says dully, tossing the shirt to the floor and moving to leave.

“It’s his birthday soon, you know,” Schlatt actually puts a hand on Quackity’s arm to stop him, as if what he’s saying is important. “He thinks I don’t know when it is, but it’s… it’s this month. He’s still my kid, even if I… I didn’t really want a fuckin’ kid, y’know?”

Quackity knows when Schlatt gets into one of these rambling moods there’s no use dissuading him, better to just listen until he talks himself to sleep, but Quackity can’t help it, pulling away from Schlatt and going to the other side of the bed. “No it isn’t, Schlatt.”

“Huh?”

“His birthday. It’s not this month.”

“The fuck are you talking about? How would you know?” Schlatt sneers. “It’s… it’s the 21st. The 21st of March,” Schlatt nods resolutely.

Quackity kicks off his own shoes and starts loosening his tie. Maybe if Schlatt had been anywhere near close, the right month, or maybe even the right season at least, Quackity might’ve just moved on. It’s too fucking much, all of it. Every word Schlatt has said tonight. “December.”

“Huh?”

“It’s in December.”

Schlatt scoffs. “And you would know? Like you know and I don’t?”

“Yeah, actually. Yeah, I do,” Quackity says stiffly. He flinches when Schlatt clumsily hits him over the back of the head, just enough to startle and sting.

“Shut the fuck up…” He mutters Tubbo’s first words and slumps over onto his pillow, and Quackity stops trying.

#my writing #mafia au #I don't mean to proceed 'business as usual' but if I don't write I'll lose my mind.#it's not relevant to this fic but I don't think I'll be writing c!Wilbur any time soon.#I know it's a character not the creator.#but just my own personal comfort with writing him is just gone.#this fic includes abuse like always so please read with caution

4 notes · View notes

empty-blog-for-lurking · 9 months

Note

do you have any more details about the 'it was all a dream' au? the premise is so cool!

Ok so schrodeinger reality au, gonna be real this au has almost nothing but vibes (and heavily inspired by Madoka: Rebellion, Piecemeal episode and the Stranger entity from tma and this comic)~

tw none of it is explicit but it is better to be safe- mention of suicide attempt by poison (skip from "Her mother asks if she's ok" to next para)

mentions of gore (skip from "Ghosts start to solidify" to next para and "This was the worst condition" to next para)

mention of car crash (it is one line but still),

mention of death (skip from "This was the worst condition" to next para)

mention of a serial killer (skip from "This was the worst condition" to next para) ,

mention of violent murders (skip from "This was the worst condition" to next para),

mention of mutilation (skip from "This was the worst condition" to next para)

So basically right after Allura saves the multiverse, she wakes up in a room, in a bed, with things that arent her own but also feel really familiar. She also wakes up to find her hair is brown rather than white, her marks are gone (whammy), and her ears are round (double whammy), and she's a human (what the qUIZNAK). Like naturally she's freaking out right until the door opens and that is her mother, or well her human mother. She doesnt look anything like Melenor, her real mother, and yet she knows that the human woman was her mother.

Allura runs out of her room and the house isnt her own but also is, she remembers drawings on the wall she did as a kid, she remembers tripping on those stairs while running as a teen, she remembers when those photos on the wall were taken few months ago. She remembers this house she is in right now, she remembers a life she never lived. Her mother asks if she's ok. Her mother has been so worried since she.....almost killed herself. A simple quick acting poison, something painless. Mom found her in time and took her to the hospital. That is what the memory tells her.

Except, no she didnt, but she did. This isnt her life and that is not mother, except it is and she is her mom. This isnt real none of this is real. Both memories feel as real as the other. Her mom asks if she is ok again. She want to push her away, she's clearly a liar. She want to hug her, she is scared and wants her mom to tell her she's going to be ok. She can just nod in reply, both her pasts feeling more like a dream than a memory. She yearns for the life that is gone in every way, she wants to reject the new life that is gifted not lived. However the sense of loss is ever present.

As far as Shiro is concerned he has lived a pretty normal decent life. Ups and downs like everyone has. He achieved his dreams of going to space and it was good while it lasted. He survived an accident that took his arm and left him with scars. Awful thing car crashes, even if he doesnt really remember it and it Certainly doesnt matter. Had few relationships, few break ups, moments of joy and sorrow in equal amounts, cant really complain. His brother was there for it all, and even if Kuro loves to annoy him that is what brothers are for. All in all rather normal life. Except, one day he had a nightmare, with furry alien colonizers and alien witches and gladiator rings and giant robot lions. Non sensical and pointless he chooses to not think about it, suppresses it everytime it threatens come up. Except they keep coming, during his days and during his nights and he buries them deep every time. And they keep getting worse every time.

Until one day, there was a ghost, ghost that looked just like him, gored and bleeding just blankly staring at him. At first he thought it was Kuro, but when Shiro yelled out for him in horror, he pops out from wherever he was and walked past through that ghost. Little horrified, he decided to suppress this too, maybe stress or maybe a prank or maybe something else completely mundane. He never looks at the ghost, refuses to acknowledge its existence. Ghost disappears and appears seemingly randomly, (everytime he suppresses a memo- thoughts about his nightmares). Ignores it, doesnt acknowledge it, suppresses it, buries it within. The more he does it, the more they present, the more they stay at the back of his mind.

But then ghosts starts to solidify. First as bloody fingers, then as bloody hands, slowly slowly. The body part stayed, always bleeding, they are not seen but they are felt. Kuro almost slips on an unseen pool of blood, complains about the floor not looking wet. Shiro buries them too, in his flowerpots and flowerbeds and in backyard six feet under and when the body fully forms.

The ghost stop appearing after that, but he still doesnt feel free, he finds himself staring at a certain spot, still feels like the smell of blood lingers. Sometimes he could almost hear a heartbeat where the body is buried. But no, this never happened! Just like all those nightmares never happened, this never happened. Acknowleding it, even as some sort of hallucination makes it real, makes everything real, so it never happened. So what if his scars dont fit for a car crash, so what if his memory is spotty. Coincidences really, followed by a stressed mind and it's overactive imagination. Kuro worries but that is what a brother is for.

And as far as Shiro is concerned, he lives a pretty normal decent life.

This was the worst condition, Doctor Jaspreet Kaur had ever seen. Granted her tenure is not that old, only been a few years since she was a doctor, but this still had to be worse. A man, a young one, maybe in 20's skinned alive. Most definately a murder attempt. A serial killer has been in the news lately and her new patient shares the same condition the killer's victims when found. No identifying features, whether it be identity proof, tags on clothes, tattoos, skin marks or face itself. This time however, by some miracle, despite everything he was still alive.

So she and the other doctors trt everything they could to save this nameless person. He would have to stay in intensive care, will go through multiple surgeries and if he lives through all of that the damages would still be lifelong. But they still have to save him. So they try, they succeed in stopping the bleeding and stabilize him. They got in touch with the police, who took the statement for the new lead, hoped he survives so they could arrest the killer but didnt seem to care about his identity. Now it is a waiting game.

Few days later as she was making her rounds, she saw the Patient, and not only was he sitting up and moving, he was actively ripping off all his bandages. Jas ran in to stop him, but then stopped.

The Patient's skin had grown back. Light brown, as dark as hers, black hair, and freckles clear visible unlike hers which were always hidden under a ton of makeup. And when Jas looked at him she realized somethings. The patient looked familiar but in a way she cant quite put a finger on. Most likely Indian descent, american accent but hint of punjabi, 5'7, a bit chubby. The patient reminded her of her sister, and her brother, and her mother, and her father, and her grandparentss, slightly like all of them but not them. She also noticed the mirror in the patient's room was cracked, right from the point where the patient's reflected head would be.

The patient then turns to her and asks her questions, who are you? what place is this? What happened to me? And Jaspreet answers the best she can, i am Dr Jaspreet, we are in the State Hospital, you were brutally attacked but you are ok now. And then Jaspreet asks her own questions, do you know who you are? Do you have someone to call? Do you know who did this to you? And the patient- he? They? she? She. She just shook her head no, no she didnt know who she was, only what she is now. No she didnt remember anyone and doubted anyone remembered her. She did not know who did this, but she will find her killer.

Jaspreet wanted to ask what she meant by that. But the Patient stood up, something she shouldnt have been able to, not with injuries or with pain meds. Too dumbfounded to even react, all she can do is watch, as the Patient thanks her, asks where the hospital keeps patients things, and then left.

The Patient was already gone when she even thought to react. But that is ok! She'll just call and ask and staff security to stop the Patient. She even has a description, it is uhhh ummm she cant remember. She cant remember how the Patient looked like. And wait- was the Patient a guy in his 20's? Or a woman in her 30's? No, no neither, maybe something in between? Doesnt matter. She called the reception, told them the Patient from the room number 3462 would be making his way to the reception, and to please stop h-sh-them? As they required further observation. And the receptionist said that that particular hasnt been assigned in days. That cant be right? It was for the patient who almost uhhh died? And needed care for-for something? She would have to check the logs later. But no, the receptionist cant remember any such patient. And Jaspreet cant remember it well either.

Days later Jaspreet would read the news that the serial killer has finally been arrested, evidence compiled by an anonymous sleuth. Jaspreet is glad that the serial killer was arrested but also felt that she should be more.......interested in this case? Like she knew something about this case but doesnt really but cant tell you why. But well she guesses that is it than, if it was memorable than she would have remembered.

#Ok so the more on Lance's thing #The way he is perceived is based on person looking at him but 'truer'. This includes race age nationality voice gender #Jaspreet is cis woman so she perceives him as one #A trans woman would also perceive him as a woman. Cis and trans men would perceive him as a man. Nb n agender would perceive him as such et #Also Lance is ironically the one more chill with his situation. Gender euphoria of ppl being confused by your gender does that to a mf #Lance when everyone forgot about him and he was violently killed: :(. Lance when his gender became unpercievable for a mortal mind: :)))))#schrodeinger reality au #lance mcclain #takashi shirogane #princess allura #voltron #voltron legendary defender #lance voltron #vld lance #vld #Yeah this is stupid long completely unbetad and awful written first draft #And i am pretty sure i'll change like 80% of things but oh well #empty answers #I feel like this needs a lot more trigger warnings so please proceed with caution #And if anyone reading want me to tag something i will

10 notes · View notes