#also the fact hes just so Natural w children

[fiendishartist2]

guys what if i want to make my own apollo justice game.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Drunk on You

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: After losing a bet, Frank's drunk night turns into a nightmare when he accidentally leaves a VERY honest voicemail on your phone. (Prompt: "I need to see your phone.")

warnings: swearing, excessive drinking (do NOT do this.), Frank being affectionate

a/n: This wasn't requested by anyone, I just saw this prompt and immediately pictured Frank freaking out about a voicemail he left on someone's phone. A huge shout out to @gracethyomen and @madschiavelique who I forced into beta-ing this for me multiple times. As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Thank you!

w/c: 6k (Yah, i know. I got carried away.)

Frank liked to think that he was decently romantic—so it was almost embarrassing that your relationship happened by accident. 

He didn’t possess a natural charm, like the one that Red always flaunted, but he could usually hold his own when he found someone attractive. Before…everything, his cocky attitude and unjustified youthful arrogance helped him flirt with Maria. Since the loss of his family, flirting was more of a pastime. Until you. 

From the moment you both met, Frank had known that you were different—that you were never meant to be a casual fling. It terrified him, at first, but after many many lectures from Curtis, he was ready to try a relationship again. 

Despite that fact, he could never seem to get the words out. 

Flirting with you was as easy as pulling a trigger, but being honest and open about his feelings? Never his strong suit. He was just thankful that Curtis believed in boundaries and David was oblivious, otherwise you would’ve gotten the news through the grapevine weeks before he blurted it out. 

It all started when David scolded him.

“Language, Castle. This is a family establishment.” His stern tone was completed with a pointed finger.

The two men were seated on opposite sides of the Lieberman’s sturdy dining room table, on the precipice of one of their classic “Family Dinner Spats”–a term Curtis had coined exasperatedly a few weekly meals ago. You, Sarah, and Curt were also currently at the table, nursing your wine while the kids played video games in the living room.

Smirking at David's tone, you raised a brow at the curly haired man. “Can you really call your suburban house an ‘establishment’?”

Frank chuckled at your attempt to defend him, his lips parting around the lip of his beer bottle in a smug smile.

“The house has been established, and there is a family present.” David snapped at you with a no-nonsense look. Looking at his wife incredulously, he threw his hands in a vague gesture. “C’mon Sarah, back me up!”

Sarah shrugged at him, grinning at his defeated groan. Shooting you and Frank a knowing look, she murmured, “We’ve all heard worse.“

Desperate for someone to agree with him, David glanced across the table pleadingly. “Curtis? C’mon man.”

Sighing, Curtis nodded, his lips twitching in a tiny smile. “You do have a foul mouth, Frank. There are children present.”

Frank scoffed, gesturing widely to the two teenagers in the other room.

Crinkling your nose as you stifled a laugh, you nodded solemnly. “They sort of have a point, Frank. Your vocabulary could make a sailor blush.”

Finally vindicated, David crowed, “You practically only speak in curses and grunts!”

The marine gaped. “Christ, I am not that bad.”

Smelling a game, David’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Oh yah? I bet you couldn’t go a week without swearing.

Sarah and Curtis took the vague challenge, and Frank’s responding bitter laugh, as their cue to leave the table, murmuring about cleaning up after dinner and chuckling to each other as they left. You, unfortunately, were far too intrigued to remove yourself from the conversation.

Good thing you were entertained, because David was far from finished with his accusations. “You know what? I don’t think you could even last a single day without that sinfully filthy language of yours, Castle.”

Frank rolled his eyes, but his jaw was tense. “Ya gonna make me a swear jar, Lieberman? What are you, my ma?”

David shrugged, pleased at how easily he was able to get under the hulking man’s skin. “Someone has to teach you some manners.”

You tapped a finger on your chin, meeting David’s roguish gaze. “He’s right though, a swear jar would never compel him to change.”

David crossed his arms. “And you have a better suggestion?”

Frank glanced at you, brow raised in curiosity, lips pursed.

You grinned manically. “Maybe a drinking game? Every curse word he says within 24 hours means he takes a shot.”

The technician erupted in bellowing laughter. “YES!”

Ignoring him, Frank smirked at you. “Tryin’ to get me drunk, sweetheart?”

You placed a hand over your heart in mock surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re chicken, Frankie.”

The large man bristled, straightening his posture as he shook his head. “Course not.”

David was glowing. “So you accept?”

“Uh—“ Frank’s hesitation was quickly settled by your adorable expression, your head tilted at him as you anticipated his next move. “Fuck, I guess.”

Practically screeching, David pointed a finger at the man, looking at you excitedly. “Oh my god, that counts right? That totally counts!”

Laughing as David practically began a victory dance, you raised your glass of wine. ”Let the game begin!”

What had he gotten himself into?

Unfortunately for his liver, the next 24 hours did not get easier.

With the combined efforts of you, Curtis, David, and the various CCTV systems of New York city, the tally landed at 52 curses in 24 hours.

“Holy shit, Frank,” You gaped at the final count, turning to him with wide eyes. “Were you even trying?”

Frank glowered, sinking further into the booth next to you. “Yes.”

“Well, we’re gonna need to change these rules a bit. Otherwise, you’ll need a transplant by next week.” You frowned, eyes glowing with the light of David’s computer screen.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft now, doll.” Frank muttered, the corner of his lips lifting up against his will.

“I’m always soft on you, tough guy.”Your words were earnest, causing Frank's throat to constrict. You raised a hand to pinch his cheek, seemingly unperturbed by his furious blush.

As if knowing he was ruining the moment, David returned to the table with a tray of half a dozen shot glasses. “Who’s ready to get wasted?”

Groaning, Frank dropped his head into his hands—his stomach already churning.

“New rules:” You announced, “No more than 7 drinks an hour.”

“Woah woah woah, who died and made you referee?” David scoffed.

“Everyone who has ever taken 52 shots in one night.” You retorted, refusing to change your mind.

While David began placing a row of tiny glasses in front of him, you took one of Frank's calloused hands in your much more delicate one. He raised his head to meet your serious gaze. “Hey, you do not have to do this. It was a stupid bet.” You were chewing on your bottom lip, his hand itched to cup your face and smooth the furrow in your brow.

“Um, he does so have to do this! I already put my card down. Drink up, asshole!” As David shoved the alcohol towards him, your arm shot out, acting as a barricade.

Looking at him with an inquisitive concern, you stroked your thumb over his knuckles. With a sigh, Frank grasped one of the shots between two fingers, downing it with a grimace.

David cheered. “Thattaboy! Drink up!!”

Biting your lip, you slid a single shot towards yourself and one to David. “If he’s going to do this, he’s not doing it alone. Drink up, Lieberman.” You teased, parroting his words before downing your own shot with a grace that was shocking and incredibly attractive. 

“Damn, that’s smooth. You shelled out for us.” You snorted, setting the shit glass back on the sticky table. 

Pouting at the tiny cup of clear liquid, David groaned. “I haven’t had tequila since college.”

“Sounds like you made a poor choice of beverage then. Drink!” You grinned at him, face warming as Frank slid an arm around your shoulders.

“She’s gotta point, Lieberman. You’ve dug your own grave. I ain’t drinkin’ another drop until you take that.” Frank smirked, eyes dancing with a mirth that you’d been missing.

“C’mon David!” You encouraged, the curly-haired man across from you finally nodding and downing the drink with a gag.

You and Frank cheered, laughing as he coughed in the aftermath.

“Alright, it’s gone. Your turn.” David nodded to the three remaining shots, crossing his arms impatiently.

Huffing out a breath, Frank tossed all three back, chasing the acrid taste with a swig of the beer he’d purchased himself without thinking. “There, ya fuckin’ happy now?”

“Thrilled.” David laughed. “We’re going to wait…15 minutes, and then I’m going to hustle you in pool.” Setting a timer on his watch, the engineer missed Frank’s exaggerated eye roll.

“Doesn’t a hustle require one party to not know they’re being hustled?” You asked, settling into Frank’s side with a smile.

“I could kick your ass with my eyes closed, Lieberman.” Frank snorted.

“Oh please, it's all geometry–I'm a whiz at geometry.”

Listening to them bicker, you couldn't help but smile. Sipping your beer, you crossed your legs, excited for the upcoming show.

As Frank's inhibitions grew steadily lower, you were joined at the booth by Curtis and Karen–both of whom were humored by the giant man's state, but not free of their own worry.

“Y’all trying to kill him?” Curtis chuckled, eyes focused on Frank's uncharacteristically wide grin as he slid into the booth across from you, beer in hand.

“Trust me, I’ve been negotiating Lieberman down all night to spare his intestines.” You huffed, your own gaze fixated on Frank as he lined up his next shot at the pool table, muscles bulging against his tight shirt as he bent over.

“See something you like?” Karen asked gleefully, lips curled in a smirk.

“Shut up,” You hissed, squirming in your seat as your body was hit with a flash of warmth.

“He's not making this easy for you, is he?” Curtis chuckled, sending Karen a knowing look.

“Does he always get so…touchy when he’s drunk?” You asked quietly, trying not to salivate as you got a perfect view of Frank's ass, his back turned towards you as he played his next turn.

Letting out a bark of laughter, Curtis shook his head at you.

“Oh stop it,” You groused, ignoring your friends' giggles as you slid off of the vinyl bench and made straight for the bar.

“Um whiskey. Neat, please.” You stammered out your order to the bartender, trying not to cringe at how disjointed the words sounded. Your mind was entirely preoccupied by the feelings you harbored for the man currently guffawing behind you. The scraping of glass on wood startled you out of your daydream.

Taking the glass from the bartender, trying not to meet their gaze as they eyed you suspiciously, you nodded a thank you.

Before you could return to your seat, a thick arm wrapped around your shoulders--a sensation that would've been horrifying had it not been accompanied by a familiar voice.

“When did ya start drinkin’ whiskey?” Frank's deep rasp ignited a heat deep in your gut, stealing the words straight off your tongue.

”I-I, uh didn't,“ You squeaked out, shoving the glass to Frank's chest. “I figured you’d want something other than mid-shelf tequila.” Looking up at him through thick lashes, your breath caught in your throat as you met his stare.

Frank's lips were tilted in a small smile, the tension he normally carried in his jaw nowhere to be found. His cheeks were flushed, his hair mussed from running his hands through it throughout the night. Boring into you, his beautiful ochre eyes crinkled with a happiness you rarely saw from the man.

A rough knuckle tipped your jaw upwards, shutting your mouth, which had apparently been hanging open as you admired the figure before you. “Somethin' on my face, sweetheart?”

Tilting his head, his eyes twinkled, his smile growing wider as you remained silent. “No, Frankie.”

“Good. C'mon, I need someone to cheer for me when I whup Lieberman's ass for a third time.” Frank snorted, pressing a kiss to your crown before taking your hand and dragging you towards the pool table.

The rest of the night flew by, a symptom of the intense focus you held on Frank's relaxed drunken nature. He'd been tipsy with you before, so you'd caught glimpses of this behavior from the man previously, but it would always catch you off guard to see him so...easygoing.

It wasn't that Frank wasn't affectionate, he was incredibly sweet, he just wasn't usually so forthcoming with his emotions. Nor was he normally content snuggling with you in public.

Rubbing his nose against your hair, Frank gave a sleepy hum before pulling back to down the rest of the ice water you'd forced into his grasp. His hand was gently gripping your waist, thumb tracing lines over your hip as your friends chatted. Frank was much too tired to be paying any attention, and your ability to retain any conversation topic flew out the window the moment his hand landed on your side.

Watching as his free hand lifted to clumsily scrub at his face, you frowned. “Wanna call it a night, Frank? You look ready to drop.”

“'M fine.” He grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Shit, you'd hoped the water would stave off the impending headache for now.

“The kid's right.” David remarked, smirking at your offended scoff. “If I'm beat, you must be half dead. I'll go close the tab."

"Can the rest of you make it home ok if I handle this one?" You asked, kneading at Frank's neck as he dropped his head to your shoulder with a grumpy huff.

"Yah, we can get David home in one piece." Karen promised, squeezing Frank's arm as she passed. "Goodnight."

"Ok, tough guy. You gotta get out so I can get out," You murmured, nudging the marine as carefully as possible.

Grumbling under his breath, he slid out of the booth, grabbing the table as he listed sideways.

"Christ, Frankie. Hold on, I gotcha." You grunted as he leaned against you, his weight shifting you off balance. Wrapping an arm around his waist in a motion similar to the one he'd made mere minutes ago, you shuffled towards the door. "Ok, Castle, you gotta work with me a little bit here."

As the two of you neared the exit, you heard an indignant squawk from the bar. "I OWE HOW MUCH??"

Chuckling softly, Frank's skull knocked against yours. "We'd better get outta here, sweetheart."

The two of you made it back to Frank's tiny apartment without incident, though the man was stumbling all the way. When you reached his front door, he snatched his keys from his pocket, tossing them at you without a word. 

Not expecting the projectile, the ring of keys hit you square in the chest, your chin following them as they crashed to the grimy carpet underneath your feet. Looking at Frank with narrowed eyes, you raised an eyebrow. “Was that really necessary?”

Frank chuckled quietly, his laugh as close to a giggle as it would probably ever get. His half-lidded eyes creased as he grinned at you. “Sorry,” The apology was undercut by the shit-eating expression on his face. 

“Drag your ass all the way home, breaking my back doing so–mind you,” You complained halfheartedly, your chest swelling with fondness as Frank’s raspy laughs continued. “And you just throw your shit at me.” 

Shaking your head, you let your smile betray you as he kissed your forehead. “You’re unbelievable, Castle.” 

“Thanks for puttin’ up with me.” His stubble scratched your skin as he spoke, his lips still resting against your temple. 

“Anytime, big guy.” Your eyes fell closed as his hand rubbed over your lower back.

After a minute, Frank spoke again. “Are ya gonna open the door, or am I gonna have to sleep in the hallway?” 

“Jesus Christ.” You groused, breaking out of his hold to squat down and grab his keys.

Just like that, Frank was back in stitches, shifting his weight to the door frame as his body shook with near silent laughter.

Shoving the key in the lock, you opened the door and shoved at him gently. "Get in there, goofball."

Shuffling inside, Frank beelined for the couch, collapsing onto it with his boots still on. Rolling your eyes, you followed him in, crouching by his feet to start unlacing his shoes.

Wriggling on his stomach, he craned his neck to look at you. “Whattya doin'?”

“Taking your shoes off, Frankie.” You explained without stopping your actions.

Grumbling, he flapped an arm at you clumsily. “Leave 'em.”

Huffing with exasperated affection, you ignored him. "You'll be more comfortable if I take them off, Frank."

You received a disgruntled noise in response, but his arm stopped moving. Face squashed against a throw pillow, his eyes were closed and his pink lips were parted--soft breaths slipping in and out of them every so often.

Finally pulling his second boot off, you sat back on your heels with a satisfied sigh. Standing as quietly as you could, you strode to the tidy kitchen.

Given that you were well-acquainted with Frank's place, you moved around the apartment with ease, finding the sparse first aid kit that he possessed and making a mental note to bring some supplies by soon. Sure, Frank would manage—he was the most capable man you'd ever met—but you wanted to make his life easier in any way you could.

Which is why you grabbed a few individually wrapped pain pills and placed them on the coffee table, along with a glass of water. Now for the difficult part.

"Frank, I know you're comfy like this but you have to turn to your side for me." You spoke softly, running a hand up his arm and pushing in the direction he needed to turn.

"Hngh..." Frank protested sleepily. "Why?"

Stifling a smile at the grumpy face he made, you continued to push. "C'mon, you big baby. On your side, so you don't choke and die overnight."

Huffing frustratedly, Frank flopped onto his side, glaring at you.

“Thank you. Do you need a blanket?” You asked, laughing indignantly when he flipped you off. “That was an actual question, asshole.”

Standing up, you took a step towards the worn armchair on the other side of the coffee table, nearly tumbling over when a force tugged on your wrist. Eyes closed again, Frank was poorly hiding a smile as he yanked your arm towards him with more strength than his inebriated self should have been capable of. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you feeling nice now?” You grumbled, balancing your weight over him precariously as you tried to escape his hold.

Tugging your arm again, Frank muttered a jumble of grouchy nonsense.

“Christ, Frank.” You snorted, rolling your eyes to the ceiling before sliding your palms underneath his shoulders to shift him over. Squishing onto the couch next to his head, you found yourself smiling as he wriggled towards you, settling his head into your lap with a relieved exhale. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a piece of work when you’re drunk?”

Your murmur was more for yourself than for him, but he responded nonetheless. “M’ria.”

It was far from the first time he’d spoken to you about his late wife, but hearing her name fall from his lips when he was in such a vulnerable state felt like a swift punch to the gut. Regaining your composure, you threaded your fingers into his hair. “Go to sleep, Frankie.”

As your nails softly scratched at his scalp, darkness crept into the corners of his vision, his eyes fluttering closed again.

The next few hours passed like fractions of a dream. A warm pliant surface beneath his cheek, a cool hand running through his hair. A whispered conversation and hushed groans. A loss of contact.

Somewhere in the haze of alcohol-induced fatigue, Curtis appeared, taking over your role as his babysitter. Curt was good at taking care of him...he was a lot less pretty than you were, though.

“Christ, I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that.” Curtis griped, insulted by comment Frank hadn't intended to share, shoving a bottle of some form of sports drink at him. “Drink this.”

Scowling, Frank took a long swig. As he was gulping down the sugary liquid, his eyes locked on a piece of fabric draped over the back of the couch. Setting the drink down, and nearly spilling it all over himself in the process, he grabbed clumsily for the coat, clutching it to his chest when his fingers finally landed around it. ”She forgot it.“

”What?“ Curtis, rubbing a knuckle between his brows, looked unamused.

”Her coat, Curt.“ Frank whispered, holding it out to show the other man. ”We gotta find her. She forgot it. It's winter.“

Shaking his head with a huff, Curtis dropped his head into his hands. ”I'm sure she'll be fine without it for a night. Go to sleep, Frank.“

Frank frowned, still focused on the piece of plastic in his hands.

Grappling his pocket, he eventually pulled out his phone and flipped it open, squinting at the bright screen as it powered on. Scrolling through the list of contacts, he found the one he wanted and dialed.

”Frank,“ Curtis sighed, but didn't stop him from calling you.

Receiving your voicemail, Frank groaned. “Sweetheart, you better not be frozen to death out there somewhere. You left your coat here. You gotta come and get it, ok? I don't want you to be cold.”

”Hang up and sleep, Castle.“ Called the medic from Frank's bedroom. When had he gone in there?

Ignoring his friend's explicit instructions, Frank sighed. “Please come back. I like having you here. You just...you take such good care of me, and I really don't deserve it, but you do it anyways, and--” The phone was snatched out of his hand.

“Frank says goodnight.” Curtis snapped into the phone before ending the call.

“Hey!” Frank glowered, fumbling for Curtis's hand to take the device back.

“Go to sleep, Frank. You can talk to her tomorrow. Trust me, you'll be grateful I took this away when you've sobered up. You don't need to be spilling your secrets to her over voicemail.“ Spreading a blanket over Frank, Curtis glared at him. ”Close your eyes, Marine. I am not playing games with you tonight.“

Rolling to his other side so that Curtis couldn't see him, he smirked at the other man's final snort. ”Real mature, Frank. I'm taking your bed. I'll be out to check on you every once in a while.“

As Curtis retreated into the other room, Frank waited impatiently, staring at the back of the couch until he heard a door close. Grinning in satisfaction, he withdrew his burner phone from his other pocket, opening it up and inputting your number.

“Sorry, Curt hung up the phone. I wasn't done talking to ya. I like talkin' to ya, it makes me feel...god, I'm bad at this. I dunno, sweetheart, you make me feel good...special. I haven't felt that way in a long damn time. But you just make it seem so easy. You make everything seem so easy...”

The intense rolling of his stomach is what ruptured his unconsciousness, igniting a spark of adrenaline powerful enough to carry him to the bathroom so he could collapse in front of the toilet.

God, he felt fucking awful. His head was pulsing with the beginnings of a migraine, his throat burned with acid as he emptied his stomach repeatedly. Moaning with regret, he slapped the lever to flush the toilet, sinking back against the cool porcelain of the bathtub behind him.

“Was wondering when that would happen. David owes me 20 bucks.” Curtis leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom with his arms crossed, smirking at Frank's evident misery.

“Glad I could help.” Frank muttered, digging the heel of his hand into one of his eyes in an attempt to offset some of the building pressure in his skull.

“You look like shit.” Curtis chuckled, passing him a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers.

“Fuck off.” Frank grumbled, rinsing out his mouth before throwing back a few pills.

“Well, clearly you're feeling more like yourself. Christ.” Curtis snorted.

“God, Curt, what happened last night?” Frank grimaced. 

“Besides you drinking enough to kill a racehorse? Not much. Unless you count me discovering your collection of burner phones as ‘interesting’.”

Curtis’s words were innocuous, but Frank felt a wave of dread crash over him at the implications. 

“What collection?“ He asked mournfully, hoping fiercely that Curt didn’t mean–

“The one you were using to call your girl.” Fuck. “Every time I turned around, there was a new phone in your hands. Can't say I didn't try to stop you from making an ass of yourself, you just managed to do it anyway.”

“Fuck!” Frank cursed. That was exactly what he was hoping to avoid. “Please tell me you're jokin'.”

“Unfortunately not, Frank.“ The other man laughed, but his brow pinched in sympathy. “You're gonna have some explaining to do, I expect.”

“Fuck me. What did I say?” He looked to his friend pleadingly, feeling like his impending doom was perched just over his shoulders.

“I didn't catch all of it, but the parts I heard were pretty damning.” Curtis rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Frank’s intense eyes.

Mustering the dwindling energy he had, Frank lurched to his feet, stumbling towards the door. Thankfully, Curtis caught him when his balance faltered after a few steps.

“Woah, shit, Frank! Where are you goin'?” Curtis chastised preemptively, letting Frank lean against him as he ambled to the foyer.

“To apologize, or delete that message. Whatever needs to be done.” Frank’s jaw was stiff, his voice gruff with fear and discomfort. Undraping his arm from Curt’s shoulders, Frank bent down to grab his boots, halting as the motion caused a spike of pain to shoot through his brain. Clenching his fingers around his thighs, he bit his tongue to keep from hurling again.

“Jesus, Frank. This isn't a goddamn military operation.” Curt scoffed, kicking Frank’s shoes closer to him with a grunt.

Frank huffed a bitter laugh. “You're right, that would be easier.” Squatting down, Frank shoved his boots on and laced them up.

“You need serious help, you know that?” Curtis sighed, only waiting a moment before slipping his own shoes on. “C'mon. I'll drive you.”

Tipping your chin up, you let the final dregs of your latte trickle across your tongue, silently begging for those few drops to contain the caffeine you'd need for the rest of the day. You were practically giddy with lack of sleep and the immense amount of sugar you'd dumped into the coffee to make it palatable–you weren't used to so many extra espresso shots.

After looking out for Frank at the bar, wrangling him on the journey home, leaving abruptly to accompany your distraught roommate and her accident-prone boyfriend to the hospital, and then staying with said roommate all night while her boyfriend got a cast put over his broken arm–you were understandably exhausted. And, if you were honest with yourself, a bit aggravated that you'd been ripped away from Frank when he was so unusually receptive to your affection.

It wasn't as if you could just call Curtis and ask to switch roles again, it was almost noon. Frank would probably be up and hungover by now–far grouchier than the cuddly lump he'd become last night when he passed out on your lap. No use to mourn that loss any further, you supposed. It wouldn't be that hard to make him agree to another bet, after all. 

Lounging on the couch, your eyes slipped shut for a moment, flying open in shock when you heard a knock at the door. Of course someone would show up right after you sat down. Inhaling deeply to keep from groaning, you dragged yourself off of the couch and to the door. Huh, speak of the devil.

Unlatching the door, you rested a hand on your hip as you took in the posture of the man before you. Frank looked awful, a perfect example of the saying “green around the gills”. He was slouched forward, barely meeting your gaze, and his complexion was so alarmingly pale that it was more translucent. Before you could ask what the hell he was doing on your doorstep, he spoke.

“I need to see your phone.” His tone was pained and especially gravelly, which made sense given how hungover he must be right now.

“Damn, Castle. Hello to you too.” You laughed, the humor of it not fully reaching your eyes as concern churned in your gut. Stepping out of the way, you allowed him to stride past you into the apartment. 

Looking over his shoulder at you sheepishly, he cringed. “Sorry, hi. Your phone?”

Well he’s clearly on a mission. You had to admit, you were curious what he was so riled up about. 

Your eyes narrowing, you gestured to where it sat on the counter, anchored by its designated cord. “It's charging. It died while I was running around last night and I just got home, so.” Frowning in confusion, you picked it up to show him. 

“Thank god.” Frank let his face fall into his palms, collapsing onto your couch. 

“Why do you need my phone, Frank?” Intrigue still piqued, you flicked a thumb across the screen to activate your phone.

Realizing he’d made a fatal error in his anguished haze, Frank swiveling in his seat, craning his neck just in time to see a massive grin break out across your face. “Shit wait–”

“Jesus Frank, are you ok? Why did you call me so many times?” You laughed, scrolling through the myriad of notifications you’d apparently missed from him. 

“Sweetheart I'm begging you–” Standing on his wobbly legs, he hurried to remove the device from your hands, but it was too late.

“You left multiple voicemails?” You looked at him with an almost pompous smile, clearly taking satisfaction in his downfall.

“Please don’t–” He made for your phone, but his reflexes were lacking. Spinning just out of his reach, you raised the phone above your head victoriously.

“Voicemail number one!” You announced proudly, pressing play on the recording. 

Frank’s voice sounded tinny through the small speakers, or maybe it was just being drowned out by the ringing in his ears. “You forgot your coat…”

“Aw, Frank, that's so sweet!” You spoke over the short message, your lip sticking out slightly as you looked at him with gratitude.

Stepping towards you with his palms displayed, he tried for a placating tone. “Yup. That was all, no need to listen to any more of–”

“Voicemail number 2!” You crowed, darting out of the kitchen as he grabbed wildly for the offending phone once more. 

“Sorry, Curt hung up the phone...”

“This ain't funny.” Frank growled, scurrying after you into the living room “Turn those off!” 

“You left them for me!” You giggled, holding the phone to your ear and squealing with delight at his first confession.

“You make everything seem so easy–”

“Aw, Frank–”

“It's so hard for me to focus when you're around–”

By the grace of some higher power, his drunk rambling cut off. Nearly keeling over, he leaned heavily against the back of your couch. “Thank Christ.”

“VOICEMAIL NUMBER 3!” You said gleefully, practically dancing with joy as Frank resumed chasing you.

“Goddamn it.” He muttered. He should have known he wasn’t that lucky.

“I can't stop thinkin' about ya–”

His words were coming back to him now, and it was crystal clear that he had very limited time to retrieve the phone before your relationship with him was irreparably damaged. Nearly bowling your coffee table over, he managed to snatch the hem of your sweatshirt, but you simply slipped out of it and resumed your lap of the space. 

“I can never stop thinkin about ya–”

You leapt onto the couch and over the arm, making for your bedroom. How on earth were you this agile after last night? He was pretty sure this would be the last thing he ever did. 

“I hope you made it home safe–”

You stumbled around your bed frame and Frank saw an opening. 

“You shoulda stayed here with me–”

His eyes narrowed, vision tunneling like a predator’s. Frank bounded forward and your eyes widened as you realized he had you cornered.

“I'll always keep you safe–”

Finally, he arrived within the distance he needed, snatching you by the waist and spinning you into him. Your chests were pressed together, quivering with the force of labored breaths, but before he could hit the power button– 

“Cause, I dunno, I just love ya, sweetheart. I'd never let anythin' happen to ya.”

His world blurred, his heart pounding so aggressively it felt like it was creeping out of his rib cage. It was done. It was over.

Panting, you looked up at him with a furrowed brow. His heart sank as he watched the realization crawl across your face. 

“You...you love me?” You asked meekly as Frank took a step away from you.

His entire body felt like it was on fire, he couldn’t decide whether he needed to scream or be sick. An apology roosted on his tongue, but his mouth was too dry for the words to come out.

“You love me.” You murmured, looking at the phone as if it would explain his words for you.

“I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinkin'–” He choked out, scrambling backwards sloppily so that he wouldn’t witness your pity.

“Frank–” You spoke softly, the sympathetic edge to your words cutting his composure like a blade.

“Christ, I'll just go, I'm sorry–” He whispered, his throat tightening with immense regret.

“Frank” Your fingers suddenly wrapped around his wrist, turning him back to face you. He inhaled deeply, bracing himself for the rejection and subsequent loss of connection that he’d stupidly caused. But it never came. 

Instead, your free hand cupped his neck, pulling his lips to meet yours. His knees wavered, nearly giving out as your soft lips met his. He was bombarded with surprise and affection and relief. Pulling back from him, you rubbed a finger over his nape and smiled softly.

“I love you too.”

“You–” He was too shocked to even ask a full question. His knees finally gave out and he fell against you. 

“Woah, careful there, tough guy.” You chuckled, nudging him backwards so that he crumbled onto your mattress instead of taking you both to the ground. 

Listing sideways onto your mattress, he let you prod at his limbs until he was fully seated. Bile was swiftly rising in his throat, but whether it was from the chase or the resulting emotions, he was unsure. Swallowing roughly, he grimaced. 

Biting your lip, you let go of his wrist to stroke your blissfully cool fingers along his cheek. “Let me get you some water, ok? I’ll be right back.”

Eyes falling closed, Frank took a handful of measured breaths, lips twitching with a small smile despite his current agony. You loved him too. He had a feeling that he should be skeptical, but he was experiencing too much to consider that at the moment. For now, he would just accept this outcome, however miraculous it might seem. 

Hearing your soft footsteps back into the room, he opened his eyes–immediately regretting it when his head convulsed with a renewed stab of pain. Moaning softly, he scrunched his eyes shut, bringing his thumbs up to his brows to knead them in the hope it would lessen the ache. 

“Head bothering you?” Your voice was impossibly soft as you knelt by his side, gently prying one of his hands away from his face and pressed a cold glass into it. 

“Yah. Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to crash here.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. I already texted Curt and told him you’d be staying here for a bit.” Pulling back your sheets on the other side of the bed, you propped yourself up next to him. “Tired?”

Grumbling affirmatively, Frank tilted his head into your shoulder, rolling as far into you as he could stomach. “But we should probably–”

“We got all the time in the world, sweetheart.” You stroked his stubbled chin languidly, smirking as his expression relaxed beneath your touch. “Just sleep. After last night, we both need it.”

“God, I love you.” He murmured, throwing an arm over your hips and letting you nestle in close. 

You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you too, Frank.” 

Frank made a mental reminder to buy Lieberman a beer the next time they went out. He’d never admit it to David, but he was beyond grateful that his uninhibited self had finally made a move. 

Feeling more content than he had in months, he let himself drift off to the sound of your soft breathing.

Thanks for reading!!

[justaz]

somehow some time magic goes wrong and young arthurs from different points in time are pulled into king arthur era. everyone kinda has this back and forth of who is going to watch the literal 8 month old. gwen and lancelot are pretty good at taking care of him, so is percival but he doesnt seem comfortable with it so no one forces him. elyan tried to hold him but baby!arthur started wailing after three seconds. leon is sorta good but he has like no idea how babies work or what they need so when baby!arthur found his sword and almost lobbed his own head off, leon was forbidden from taking care of the child. gaius is too old and busy researching how to reverse the issue. who the HELL would trust gwaine with a child? arthur has this Odd aversion to the child but no one pushes him on it. ofc merlin, magic incarnate, has this like aura or energy that draws all these innocent woodland creatures to him so obviously little arthur is also drawn to him. in fact, merlin seems to be the person he likes the most. and merlins a natural w kids apparently so hes often the one that baby!arthur is handed off to.

he complains about it at first but when baby!arthur breaks into a fit of giggles after merlin calls adult!arthur a clotpole, he has merlin wrapped around his little finger. merlin stops complaining but does let arthur know that the one thing he Will Not Do is change his diaper. arthur laughs and walks away. merlin talks to baby!arthur like they’ve been friends for years (bc they have). arthur points out that baby!arthur cant understand him and merlin retorts that its like how it normally is. merlin gets to perform magic in front of baby!arthur and he LOVES it

my point to this was merlin dotting on little versions of arthur is a way that no one ever really did for him growing up and adult!arthur seeing it and healing little pieces of his inner child as he watches merlin play games with baby!arthur and make sure he’s taken care of. it especially hits him when gaius finally finds a way to send baby!arthur back and while everyone seems torn between upset they have to say bye, they’re also relieved to get the baby back where hes supposed to be,, merlin is like choking back fat tears. everyone backs off to give them privacy and merlin just kisses baby!arthur’s forehead and whispers some encouraging and heartachingly sincere words that have adult!arthur choking back tears.

then BOOM the spell also backfires and while yes baby!arthur got back to where hes supposed to be, now theres toddler!arthur. he has this gravitational pull to gaius (can recognize him) and merlin (magic soulmates ofc he has an innate trust in the man). merlin is happy to have his little friend back and gaius goes back to the drawing board. now they have this little 2-3 year old toddling after them and blabbering something that sounds like english if you’re patient enough

(merlin makes another comment about how little arthur has changed over the years)

the cycle repeats, merlin and toddler!arthur get attached and adult!arthur watches and heals a bit more of his inner child. gaius finds another cure that falls through the same way and now they have child!arthur. he has a bit more of uther’s influence in him but hes still a child. he gets hurt and tries to fight back tears but merlin sees he’s in pain and tells him it’s okay to be hurt, to feel pain, to cry. child!arthur says in that stutter cry children do when they’re fighting back tears that his father says boys shouldn’t cry. merlin wipes a tear that slips down child!arthur’s face and whispers about how he cries and lets himself feel his sadness before picking himself back up and dusting himself off before getting back to it, that it doesn’t make him weak but stronger. adult!arthur hears this and this may not be the beginning of his deconstruction but it makes a tremendous amount of progress in him rewiring his brain away from his father’s toxic ways of thinking.

idk if they’d get a teen!arthur since gaius probably would’ve learned his lesson by then but if they did, we’d get to watch Merlin vs Arthur Showdown 2.0 as merlin humbles the young prince and i think that’d be funny. especially for gwaine since he didn’t get to see it happen the first time.

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

SxF Crack Theory: The Identity Of [REDACTED]'s Father

Hear me out here.... but, maybe, Twilight's father could be Yuri's boss, aka, the SSS Lieutenant.

Now, this might be a crack/joke theory, but here is the evidence I have to back up my claim (yes, I'm presenting it because I'm just Like That):

(Warning: Manga spoilers ahead)

Exhibit A: Physical Characteristics

Here is a picture of Agent Twilight:

Here is a picture of Yuri's boss (who, from now in, will be referred to as YB, for my own convenience):

We can see that Twilight and YB have very similar facial characteristics: bluish-grey eyes, blond hair, and a similar face shape (nose, jaw).

We never see Twilight's father's full face: only the lower half, because he has presumably forgotten his face, along with his mother's (King of Emotional Repression™️), but we can see that his jawline and shape of his mouth are very similar to Adult Twilight.

Oh, and look at that- rather pronounced cheekbones, if I do say so myself. Where else did I see those? Hmmm

Exhibit B: Ambiguous Fate

During the War Arc, we're never told about [REDACTED]'s father's fate. We just know he never returns to his family: and the reason why he left for the very last time, was that, "Things have been heating up at the border. I need to take a little business trip." The fact that his, a (presumably) rather important man's, body was never recovered: nor were [REDACTED] or his mother informed of his death. Of course, his body could have been lost in the bombings, or the part of [REDACTED] finding out about his father's dead could have been omitted, but for most of the part, we're left to assume about his father's dead. And... this sounds familiar to another instance...

Like the instance of [REDACTED]'s friends. He (and we) assumed they'd died in the warehouse as children, but later we see that they're alive and in the army (only to die a second time, RIP), but this time, for their deaths to be confirmed: for [REDACTED] to only receive their dog tags after the failed campaign.

This may have been a setup: for Endo to reintroduce [REDACTED]'s father, later in the story, as YB.

Anyway, one thing I've learned after reading and watching so many books, comics, and TV shows: never assume a person's dead, not unless their body/proof of their death has been explicitly shown. This belief was only reinforced after [REDACTED]'s friends.

And, [REDACTED]'s father's last known place was around the Westalian-Ostanian border. He could have escaped in the crossfire, theoretically...

Exhibit C: Fatherly Nature (?)

We all love a good found-family dynamic in the workplace. It's there with WISE, it's there with Garden, and it's kinda there with the SSS.

My main argument about this stems from the chapter which focuses on Yuri's work.

We see YB continuously worry about Yuri's physical health, in panels like:

Obviously, this doesn't happen only in this chapter. Whenever Yuri's there, YB is also there, yelling at him to a) go to sleep, or b) STOP GETTING HIT BY BUSSES OH MY FUCKING GOD IT CAN'T HAPPEN SO MANY TIMES TO ONE PERSON-

And, of course, there's the Yuri Sick Fic chapter:

Not gonna lie, this point is extremely weak, if I brought this up in court I'd be laughed out of there-

Anyway, I just wanted to put this in.

If it does turn out that YB is [REDACTED]'s father then. Bestie. Buddy. How are you managing to be a better father-figure to some insolent kid who gets hit by busses than you were to your actual son, like 20 years ago. Maybe he learned along the way.

Exhibit D: Symbolism (???)

Oh, look, another point I'm pulling out of my ass! But whatever, you're reading it <3

During the War Arc, we see Twilight sustain two major injuries:

One, as a child, when his home is bombed:

And two, as an adult, in the army:

and these injuries are both to his left eye.

Of course, this has given rise to theories of him not being able to see his left eye, it being his blind spot, and Yor guarding his blind spot on missions, etc., etc., which I love bc ✨Twiyor✨

Getting back on point, if we look at YB, we see that he has injuries too... or rather, remnants of them, what with the scars he has...

which, are also on his left eye. Huh! Interesting... this might just be me, but could this be parallels to how similar he and his father were? Are? His father also wanted peace between Ostania and Westalis: but he taught his child that in a very harsh manner (by slapping him), but Twilight wants to teach Anya that in a kind manner. Whenever we see him teaching her, he never loses his cool with her (of course, he loses a lot of hope, but this man's a pessimist, what can we do).

Also shows how much kinder Twilight is, compared to his father.

---

Of course, these points are very weak, and it might just be that Endo reused some character designs for efficiency, but let me be, ok!! This is a crack theory!!! Let me be a clown!!!! AKDFJSJF

If I'm being honest, this post was inspired by a convo I'd had with my friend, around the time Chapter 86 was released. She was theorizing that [REDACTED]'s dad is the Shopkeeper, and I was theorizing it was this dude. Of course, our theorizing was sidetracked by Chapter 86, and a certain panel within it, but... WHATEVER.

So, what are your thoughts? Obviously, my own theory is very weak (for example, why would the SSS accept a Westalian citizen into their ranks? Why would he even join the SSS? Could he have defected? Abandoned his wife and kid?), but this was fun to think about, lol. What are your theories? I think the Shopkeeper-is-the-dad theory and the YB-is-his-dad theory are both cool, so, what do you think?

(Also, yeah, I know, his dad could very well be dead. I just refuse to believe it, bc I'm just Like That <3)

[callsignangel]

domestic life w/ baby daddy! neteyam x a metkayina! mate - part two

warnings: fluff, neteyam being a great dad <3 in this series neteyam is about 24/25 (so, an ADULT) which i forgot to mention in my first post. if you're concerned or confused, please reference my statement regarding this series here. requested by anon <3 ↳ “i need more baby daddy neteyam but with a son. like maybe he admires how close his wife and son are yk mother-son bond,”

i’m not super happy w/ these but i hope y’all enjoy regardless <3

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

neteyam had 3 other siblings growing up and he wanted the same for your daughter, so naturally you have more children together because the more the merrier

your second child was a son

fun fact, your daughter has 4 fingers like neytiri, but your son came out with 5 like jake. neteyam is thrilled that both of his kids are healthy and have these connections to his parents

but most importantly, they both remind him of you and how amazing and strong you are

neteyam still wears his baby carrier while he’s doing housework or cooking just so he can have his son close

your daughter’s first word was dada (not surprising)

he would watch you with both kids, telling your daughter stories of metkayina warriors before bed and singing na’vi lullabies to your son

he loves the bond you have with your kids. you teach them the importance of being a strong warrior and being fierce, but also to be kind and help those around you. to protect pandora and it’s wildlife, the oceans and the forest and to have a deep connection with eywa.

his daughter tends to gravitate towards him, but your son is a complete mama's boy. just the sweetest big happy family

now that your daughter is older, she likes to sleep with you guys in your bed

sometimes he’ll wake up in the night and he’ll see you with the baby

it makes his heart swell watching you softly sing to him and rock him back and forth

you guys take turns waking up to care for the crying baby. sometimes he sleeps through it, but there’ll be moments where you get up to go but neteyam’s already there

he cradles that little boy in his arms and this man ALWAYS makes sure he supports their neck/heads

he’s bouncing him softly and humming to lull him back to sleep

he carves out toys for his kids from driftwood found on the beaches of awa’atlu

threatens to take away said toys when your kids get fussy about eating their vegetables

neteyam is a frequent napper now, you’ll always find your baby boy on his chest and your baby girl cuddled up on his side - all sound asleep.

they both grow up way too fast but he wouldn’t have it any other way. he’s glad you stayed by his side through it all and that you’ve blessed him with two gorgeous children

we love baby daddy neteyam <3

extra:

kiri is the spiritual crystal loving wine aunt

lo'ak is the funcle

tuktirey is the cool aunt who'll colour with them but also sneak them alcohol

jake is the military grandpa who start's every sentence with "back in my day," or "back where i come from," and falls asleep everywhere all the time, gives unsolicited parenting advice lol

neytiri is the one who spoils all of her grandchildren the most, always has cute little gifts for them and brings them candy

[stars4gojo]

Haunted

Dad!Gojo x fem!reader // fluff, little angst towards the end // 547 words // Gojo is a girl dad😆 // tsumiki & megumi both included

Gojo thinks he shouldn't meddle with other people's business since he can do whatever he wants as the strongest - he took one chance with Megumi and Tsumiki and even if he won't ever admit it out loud, he definitely thinks he won the lottery for that.

Gojo is a girl dad. That much was clear when at the age of 17 he had walked in with two children and immediately formed a special bond with the 7 year old girl. 

 Although, on the first day you had officially adopted Megumi and Tsumiki you had given them a long talk, explaining how you and Gojo were not their new parents or replacements for their parents but were simply their guardians who will take care and guide them. However, all those efforts were thrown out the window two months later when Tsumiki had shyly approached Gojo one day asking him if he would attend parents career day with her. Gojo had initially hesitated about accepting the offer, knowing that walking into her school as a high schooler calling himself her dad and even using that as a career wont set the best impression. But, once Gojo noticed her lightly flushed skin as she fiddled around with her fingers shyly he had agreed to go to school with her, “just this one time.” He thought. 

Soon that ‘one time’ grown into a second, third and countless more times. He chuckles to himself as he looks back at that day. Now it’s Tsumiki’s graduation from middle school and he’s tying his tie properly trying not look like a ‘homeless bum’ according to you. 

And before she even got up on stage he was the already loudest parent in the room, cheering even louder when Tsumiki proudly walked on stage with her little hat and gown and it made you laugh when you saw how your once shy and moody daughter had turned into such confident and bright girl.  

There was also no doubt that you and Megumi had grown closer, even if you denied the fact that you don’t play favourites, megumi was clearly yours so, Gojo in return had naturally grown closer to Tsumiki simply because she was kind enough to respond to his idiotic ‘jokes’ and even going as far to comfort him when he’s butt hurt by yours and Megumis lack of reaction to them. 

So on Tuesdays and Wednesdays when you picked up Megumi to go to the field with him for baseball practice after school - Gojo would leave work early to pick up Tsumiki so he could take her out. 

Together they had countless shopping sprees, salon trips, sometimes even staying home to have a ‘spa day’ which was just Gojo sitting pretty and getting his nails, makeup, and hair done by Tsumiki and even if the nail polish was smudged, a new bald spot formed on his head and your very expensive make-up was completely destroyed (which gojo would have to replace later) you had no choice but to not be mad when you came home to the sight of your boyfriend and all dressed up looking pretty. 

Now he sits there and watches Tsumiki’s lifeless body lay still, unable to help her. He blames himself for this, thinks he should be able to help her as the strongest. There is nothing he can do but cling onto the good memories, trying to convince himself that this is just a bad dream he would wake up from but everything feels too real as yours and Megumi’s silent sobbing grows louder. 

Sorry this is so short, my brain is literally so burnt out w all the school work here is some of my other work 💓

Masterlist

Kind of inspired by Taylor swift Seven

[alpaca-clouds]

The Nature-Culture Divide

Something I have seen a lot of people within the Solarpunk sphere talk about and wonder is: "When did we stop seeing ourself as something outside of nature?" And given that I actually had a module on that (Social Geography, best module I ever had, given we had an anarchist professor!) I thought I could quickly explain this one.

So, the names come, in the end, from Latin and back when those words were considered in Latin, the difference was, that nature was a thing that was innate, while culture had volition behind it. You could change nature into culture by putting work into it.

Something that might surprise you is, that the idea of nature then was never quite big for most of European history. And let me make one thing clear: While we have these ideas also played with in Buddhist culture - especially in East Asia - the way we define it right now is a Western idea.

And that idea... Well, that idea came with colonialism. The thing many do not realize is, how much of the rules and "lines in the sand" that we use in our culture came from colonialisation, came from the desire to make "our" culture different from "theirs". It is shown in the way we eat, in the way we raise children, in the way we view gender and sexuality. And, yes, in the artificial border between nature and culture.

Before I tell you more about this, let me please say here: Yes, this is contradictive. I am aware of it. I am not the one who came up with the contradiction. White settlers did that all on their own.

When the settlers came to America they found a landscape very, very different from what they were used to from Europe. After all, Europe has been changed through human hand for at that point about 1600 years. (And for you Europeans out there: Researching how much forest your local area might have lost through the Romans is always a "fun" thing to do! Because the Romans destroyed a lot of European ancient forests.) In Europe, even at the wildest places, there was usually some evidence of human habitation - but this was not true for the Americas. Not because there were no people there, but rather because the people interacted with the environment very differently.

See, the European idea - while never quite that defined until this point - was really, really based on this thought that nature can be turned into culture. And that this transformation was in fact a good thing to happen. So, when the settlers arrived in the Americas they did not see "culture" there, only "nature" and set out to turn that "nature" into "culture".

Of course, we - modern people living today - do realize that indigenous people had in fact cultures of all sorts and that the actual difference was, that they just did not see that culture as something different from nature, rather than a part of it. Because their culture had not been influenced by Romans. But the settlers back then did not see this or rather did not want to see this. So they "cultured" the land, with the ideas about nature and culture being further formalized at that point.

It kinda stayed like this until the late 19th century, when Madison Grant, the originator of eco fascism came to be influencial. And now he saw something that the settlers until this point were unable to see: The indigenous people do stuff with the nature around them! They change it! For example through controlled burning of forests and things like that.

And this made Madison Grant very angry, because he was very much off the opinion that nature should be "unsoiled" by human hands. So... he made sure that those indigenous people got once more pushed out of the areas they were living, with the same areas being declared natural parks and no longer interfered with by humans (except, of course, all the tourists who destroyed it bit by bit). Leading... To a lot more wild fires.

So, where does this leave us in terms of the culture/nature divide?

Well, the idea has been there since ancient Rome and has very much influenced how much we view nature as its own thing. But within Rome nature was still not quite seen as the opposite of culture - as one could turn into the other. Under the Roman view an abandoned house or a field that was no longer cared for would turn back into nature, while anything could become culture just by interacting with humans.

The modern view really came through colonialism and the way colonialist did not understand (and did not want to understand) indigenous practices. This made people more and more drift towards the understanding of humans being an entirely different thing from nature.

But this is wrong, of course. We are part of nature. We are just animals with fingers and slightly larger brains. And many indigenous cultures understood this. In the end it was the greed of some that made us loose this connection to nature. And that is exactly why we are in this climate change related mess right now.

[admiringtheskies]

okay, so The Hyperfixation Is Hyperfixating, clearly, and honestly im just gonna continue going with it bc THEM— *screams* ANYWAYS @frownyalfred uhhhhhh hope you enjoy this as well! without further ado, another idea inspired by the incomparable ✨borderline✨ that just would NOT leave me alone until i got it all down into actual real words:

at some point further in the timeline of borderline'verse, when they've finally got the whole situation mostly under control, the batfam (whenever they accompany bruce, or multiple kids go together by themselves so they're in batclan mode, to do jl/other crossover shit) sort of ends up just doing the whole Bat-Danger-Aura thing, like, Constantly; somewhat unintentionally, but also with not much effort really made to rein it in, bc they do think the reactions are hilarious lol. and like, the thing is, they were ALREADY doing it pre-bond, pretty much right from whenever dick, jason, or both made their first appearance w bruce outside of gotham and first established the existence of mini-bats for the outside world — i mean, that sense of leashed power, as well as the eerie synchronicity and ability to communicate in the tiniest of gestures, was really just a natural consequence of the crime-fighting codependency and the training bruce put them through, originally. (as you may be able to tell, i have an Extremely Normal Amount of Feelings about the concept of cryptid batfam <3). but WITH the bond?? i mean, the kids are all connected to each other, yes, but their primary connections are all to BRUCE, and once they've had time to adjust, and set + actually semi-consistently enforce some basic boundaries, they absolutely take pride in using that to it's fullest advantage (that they're capable of while not intentionally compromising anybody's autonomy, anyways).

and like… OP's already touched on this in earlier chapters briefly a few times, but i NEED a thorough exploration of the idea of bruce seeing this change in them, seeing them subconsciously incorporate even just these little subtle mannerisms, and feeling so fucking guilty about it and spiraling bc he's terrified that all of his self-destructive qualities [that he's painfully aware of in himself] will transfer over to the children, who somehow never seem to realize that how proud and grateful they make him when they demonstrate their DIFFERENCES from him in those regards. and he's just so scared that he'll somehow ruin the few parts of them he thinks he's miraculously managed to avoid 'tainting' with his mentorship/fatherhood until now… …and meanwhile the kids are about to start crying because dad no what the fuck,,, but also facepalming a little bit bc jesus CHRIST, B, did you never even stop to consider the fact that you're just… really fuckin smart and skilled and know how to do a frankly ungodly amount of Cool Shit that we all share an interest in, and we were excited to have the chance to copy more of that shit too?! just, even beyond the great mental image of the Danger Walk, what really got me about that scene was just... his two oldest boys, who are already so much like him, not hesitating for a SECOND to gleefully take the chance to match his behavior even MORE perfectly, and wanting to know where he learned something as (relatively, by their standards) simple as the Serious Business Walk, and wanting to share that memory because it's just fuckin cool, y'all! like, to be clear, i absolutely respect the fact that, at least by the time that they're entering adulthood/in the prime of their mental and physical youth, any of the batkids are pretty much on, or definitely rapidly approaching, the same level as bruce in general badassery — and they probably each have 1 or 2 specific skillsets in which they can and do surpass him. but at the same time, you CANNOT convince me that, at any given point in the established DC timeline, there exists a non-bruce batfam character who can really look at bruce (like his personality, his aforementioned ridiculous skillset, i mean everything about him) and not see at least ONE quality in him that they aspire to. maybe it's something they already have and just can't see in themselves, maybe it's more a projection of something one of their other siblings has and shares with bruce, maybe it's just some skill, some random combat move, that he doesn't need very often, and so when he does use it, it briefly reminds them that "holy shit, he's The Fucking Batman" — but there's always SOMETHING there, some reason that even when they're having trouble communicating or arguing or emotions are running high, they'll never truly lose that respect for him that compels these ridiculously independent, self-sufficient people to willingly follow him: to listen to him, to trust him, and to keep themselves ready to unite under his lead. because nobody can argue that they are a clan, whose purpose comes from being first united under the guidance and protection and love of the bat.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

trouble with a capital T (tony montana x reader)

summary: (y/n) has an unexpected admirer.

warnings: angst, smut-bit of a size kink? idk u tell me, violence, drugs, abuse, dubcon, blood, swearing, domestic abuse, fluff and a little stalking ig. also tony montana

words: 8.9k

notes: this is toxic asf pls beware when reading it. also reader here is stupid asf for narrative purposes do not be like that irl im begging you. i rly have a concerning taste in men and if someone ever finds this i dont kno any of you <3 enjoy!

There’s this new guy in town who looks like trouble with a capital “T”. Everyone has seen him in person, except (y/n). However, by the stories and theories she hears, the figure of this man becomes even more macabre. Nobody knows his real name. He’s known only as Scarface, which should be an indicator of his perhaps not-so-scary nature, but (y/n) is a bit of a coward, if she’s being honest.  

Still, when the girl thinks of him, she likes to imagine he has his own reasons for doing what people say he does. It is a morally questionable service, certainly illegal—considerably inhumane—, yet something inside of her extends this guy the benefit of the doubt. It’s not an uncommon theme in Florida, anyway, selling drugs and whatnot, so perhaps Scarface isn’t of all bad. He is still surely just a man, right? But when she received Elvira’s messages saying there was a shooting in her neighborhood, and that Scarface was arrested for allegedly taking part in it, (y/n) felt a little overwhelmed about her previous considerations. Even if the guy wasn’t the devil like everyone made him to be, he was a criminal. A violent one at that, putting innocent people’s lives in danger, like her friend’s. 

She couldn’t go see Elvie that day, but (y/n) told her she’d drop by as soon as possible. Elvira sent some pictures of her neighbor’s window with bullet holes, six of them. The neighbor was a man who lived alone and listened to loud music all day on Sundays. Why anyone would have ordered his death, they had no idea. But then again, (y/n) didn’t really trust men who’d hit on women even after being told “no” a couple of hundred times. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if he was a rapist, or a pedophile, or both. Anything was possible nowadays. The neighbor managed to escape the sniper’s attack and left through the back, anyway, and Elvira said he entered the backyard of her house to protect himself. She was really lucky that by that time, the police had already arrived at the scene and readily took the shooter into custody.  

Scarface, according to Elvie’s description, was a short, rustic-looking man. He was white, but sunburned, with a stylish haircut reminiscent of the ‘80s and a shaven face. His eyes were big and dark, with a prominent nose, and there was a scar on his left eye, which obviously earned him the infamous nickname. He walked around with a worn Hawaiian shirt and a white wifebeater under it, the one everybody says he’s always wearing; from the waist down, he had shabby jeans held up by a leather belt and old-fashioned cowboy boots. The kind they used to wear in the Wild West, probably.  

The guy was just an almost cartoonish figure, a villain straight out of some children’s TV show. And still, somehow, he was the terror of this city as of lately. Everyone licked his balls in an attempt to spare their own lives. Uselessly, of course, since he didn’t seem to have any real consideration for anyone or anything, except for money. So, it wasn’t exactly a certainty that he wouldn’t kill any of his so-called “friends” downtown, unless they owned something valuable to him—drugs, for instance. 

And him being detained now, for the hundredth time that month, wasn’t really a relief, since he would soon be out. Because no one could ever catch him in the act—he was a professional, after all—, his stay in the precinct’s modest jail was only for a few hours. At most one night. Five hundred, even a thousand dollars in bail—or a bribe, in fact—was enough for the sheriff to release him with a faithful promise he would see Scarface again the following week. And it was no sooner said than done. 

Nobody knew where he lived. There were rumors his home was in the neighborhood next to (y/n)’s, but it was never confirmed. It also wouldn’t make any difference to know where his residence was. Again: the guy was a professional. Even the mayor licked the floor he walked. But Scarface also had his enemies, obviously. On her block alone there were four or five men who would kill him in broad daylight with their bare hands, if given the chance. She didn’t know the story very well, but it obviously had something to do with settling scores. It always did.  

Scarface, the cowboy-boots and burnt-skin, revolver-stuck-to-spine and walk-of-an-insufferable-bastard Scarface, was the greatest example of how the universe does not give any tips. The divine does not send signs. And when it does, it’s a bullet in the head, right in the middle of your eyebrows. Scarface is the universal clue of at least three people a week, but no one recognizes him as such. They’d rather bow to his feet, fearing for their lives, as if the devil had any sympathy in him in the first place. It was a funny paradox. Furthermore, the universe is also a sneaky son of a bitch. So, of course her brother would get into some trouble and end up in jail. And of course he would ask (y/n) to save his ass as she often did.  

She quickly turned around the way she was making to the supermarket and parked in front of the station, luckily only a few blocks away from her destination. The girl entered the room in silence and wrinkled her nose slightly at the strong smell of pee and cigarettes coming from the back, where the small jail was. In the waiting room, there were only two men sitting with their heads down and a guard in front of the hallway that led to the detainees.  

(y/n) went to talk to the guard and before disappearing, he told her to wait right there. She took a sit as far away from the two ominous-looking men as possible and pretended to be fiddling with her phone. In fact, she was distressed. Despite Manny being known for his little transgressions, he’d never been arrested before, so she had also never been to a police station up until that point. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her fingers were trembling slightly.  

The guard finally returned and she let out a sigh of relief. He handed her some paperwork to fill and she paid the bail in silence. While she gave him her signature, loud voices and laughter could be heard approaching in the hallway next to the waiting room. The laughter was undeniably masculine, a deep voice reverberating through the walls of the quiet police station. (y/n) held her breath as her eyes landed on brown shoes touching the floor. She didn’t dare look up and quickly finished signing the papers, going back to her chair while the guard went to get Manny.  

She stared down at her phone, her heartbeat speeding up again. The disturbing laughter ceased and the girl heard a rattle of keys followed by another clang. A thick accent thanked someone and (y/n) let out her breath, thinking he was leaving at last, but the heavy boots made their way to the water cooler right next to her. She bit her lip and sighed shakily, still not daring to look up. The way he was standing betrayed the lack of care for his spine, as he was unnecessarily leaning too far back. His loud gulps almost made (y/n) roll her eyes, despite her nervousness. He really looked like he came out of a cartoon with such deliberately theatrical behaviour.  

The two men sitting away from her got up at the same time and walked out of the station, leaving just Scarface, another guard who was on the computer, and her. But as she had no luck, a voice called that damn guard and he left them both alone in the waiting room. At that point, (y/n) knew the asshole was just messing around with that glass of water he’d been drinking for the past two minutes. And for that reason, she decided to stand up straight and look at him. There was nothing to fear. She had nothing to do with his drug shenanigans. 

The girl was only still hesitant of Scarface maybe trying to do something inappropriate, but she didn’t have time to run when he threw the cup in the trash and sat down on the empty chair right next to her. That man’s sly smile and predatory gaze made her shiver from head to toe. “Mornin’”, he states, his deep voice very close to her ear.  

(y/n) turned to look at him and kept her expression solemn. “Morning”, she simply replies, and perhaps it comes out too imposing, because Scarface raises his eyebrows and looks at her with some humor.  

“A tough one, huh? Just the way I like it.”  

She wants to laugh at his words, but only shakes her head. “Are you fucking serious? You wish....” 

“I wish what?”, he grabs her face tightly, forcing her to look at him. (y/n) freezes under his touch and can’t hide her panicked expression. He smiles satisfied and moves closer to her. “Your mama never told you not to talk to strangers, huh?”, she tries to pull away from his grip, but he pushes his fingers harder against her cheeks to the point of hurting. “Answer me.”  

“You’re not a stranger, Scarface”, she grins and he lets go of her at last. (y/n) takes a deep breath and clears her throat, checking the time and tucking her phone into her front pocket. Thankfully, Manny’s voice is approaching in the hallway and she gets up, giving the guy a scowl. “I know you think you own this town, but remember you’re still just a guy. Get over yourself.”  

“Oh, I know”, Scarface mutters, smirking like she’d just told him a great joke. He stands up and tries to touch her again, but (y/n) manages to avoid it. He then pulls her closer by the waist for a split second, as the guard and her brother appear in that instant. The man lets go of her quickly, and before he leaves, he flashes her a wink, “have a good day, baby.” 

She watches angrily as Scarface disappears, caressing her aching face. The girl turns around to find Manny with a sorry expression, and she clenches her jaw. “Let’s go”, it’s all she says, walking out of the station without waiting for him. 

♡♡♡ 

A week after that incident, (y/n) never left the house again. Until today, that is; she only went to her brother’s because he was starting to get a little worried about her confinement. She didn’t think of telling him why she was hiding for protection, because the less her family knew about that crazy drug dealer bothering her, the better.  

(y/n) walked out of her car fast so she wouldn’t bump into Scarface on the street by any chance. Although it was pretty unlikely to happen, seeing as he didn’t usually hang out in her neighborhood, but she wouldn’t take any risks. No one besides herself knew what went on in the station and she didn’t intend to tell anyone else. The girl didn’t even know if she should have told anyone in the first place. The guy had this city in his hands. If he wanted to find her, it was a snap of his fingers.  

But of course, (y/n) couldn’t run away forever. And the day she decided she’d go to Manny’s without any fear, while she was sitting on the sofa, that damned thick accent came from the front door. She widened her eyes and got up quickly, but when the girl reached the kitchen door, her scared expression met the man’s pleased one. He was smiling at something her brother was saying, however, as soon as he saw her, the mirth on his features was borderline sickening. Still, he visibly tried to play it cool because Manny was there.  

(y/n) pretended not to care as she made her way to the bathroom and locked herself there, hands shaking violently. She sent millions of desperate messages to Elvira. The voices continued to chatter excitedly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have Scarface at her brother’s place. Like they were buddies. 

Suddenly there was silence and someone knocked on the bathroom door slowly, barely audible. Her heart raced and she felt a lump forming in her throat, eyes watering without warning. Another knock. She put her phone away and slowly opened the door, not knowing what else to do or where else to go. The man’s intimidating presence greeted her and a victorious grin hovered on his lips. (y/n) looked into the living room for Manny, but there was no one. He seemed to have left for some reason, and she felt her world fall apart.  

The girl stared back at Scarface and he was now serious, examining her body up and down with no shame. “So you’re family, huh?”, he muses, his terrifying voice making her shiver sharply. She sighed and went to sit back in the couch, accompanied by him, who was leaning against the doorway and still gazed at her without blinking. “When they told me you were Manny’s lil’ sis, I couldn’t believe it, baby! But here you are, I guess that makes him my brother-in-law”, he states, content as a child who solves a puzzle. “He told me you live alone, right? I might pay you a visit someday.”  

“Right”, she merely scoffs, attempting her best not to show the shift in her seat hearing his words. 

He smiles macabre, moving his index finger from side to side in denial. “You don’t talk to me like that, tigress. Let’s start there”, he looks around, making sure Manny’s still not there, and approaches her. (y/n) instinctively pulls away and he grabs her face just like before, forcing her to glance at him. “You don’t talk to me like that. Got it?” She doesn’t answer and he squeezes her cheeks even more, making her let out a groan of pain. “Got it?”  

“Got it”, she spits out, begrudgingly.  

(y/n) thinks he’s going to let go, finally, but first he gives her an awkward, aggressive peck on the lips. She instantly shoves him and wipes her mouth to somehow undo that contact. Scarface laughs, “you’re so cute, baby.”  

“What are you doing with my...” 

Manny arrived as soon as she closed her mouth, readily engaging in another conversation with Scarface while ignoring her presence there. They talk about people and places she knew nothing about, it sounded like a bunch of codes, and she gaped at each sentence they exchanged. How the hell did they know each other? What was that asshole doing with her brother?!  

Dinner came and Scarface—his name was never mentioned, for some reason, and she wasn’t about to ask—made a point of sitting next to her, but if Manny noticed their closeness, he didn’t pay any mind. They continued talking through the meal and Manolo chit-chatted (y/n) now and then, forcing her to answer Scarface’s falsely innocent and curious questions about what she was talking about. As if he didn’t already know everything about her life, apparently.  

After helping clean the kitchen, (y/n) said goodbye to her brother. Scarface watched them silently from the sofa and she tried to keep her focus on Manny. “I have some stuff to do at home now, gotta go.” 

“You going alone? It’s late”, he frowns.  

She waves her hand to make light of it. “It’s fine, Manny. It’s a ten minute ride.”  

Manolo shakes his head. “Even so, (y/n), you know this neighborhood ain’t safe. I can’t take you home, but Tony can.”  

So that’s his name.  

Scarface—Tony chimes in, not letting her answer Manny just yet, “c’mon, let’s go. I’ll take you.” 

“It is not necessary. I literally drove here!”, the girl huffs, already taking the first step to leave.  

Manny stops her before she reaches the door. “No, no. It’s too dangerous here at night, you better go with him. C’mon, you take her, Tony. She’s just a little stubborn.”  

(y/n) locks her jaw, but doesn’t say anything.  

“I noticed”, Tony mutters tauntingly, giving her an ambiguous look that surely only she saw. The girl took a deep breath and surrendered, waving goodbye to Manny as she walked with Tony to her car. They strolled in silence to the garage and as soon as she opened the door of the vehicle, he pulled out a little plastic bag from his pocket, full of a white powder. He pointed with his chin at it, raising the object. “I just made some business with your brother today, baby, no worries.”  

(y/n) stared at him confused, but still didn’t say a word. Manolo was really going down an irreversible path, it seemed, and there was nothing she could do about it. With a heavy heart, she could only get in her car and pray she’d make it home safe that night. Scarface followed her and started driving, shooting her a smile or two over his shoulder. Luckily, it wasn’t long until they parked in front of her building. He turned off the ignition and got out of the car with her, obviously inviting himself in.  

Of course.  

(y/n)’d been trying for a few seconds to open the stuck gate and Tony notices her suffering, helping her to complete the task. She doesn’t thank him and simply walks into the house, knowing he’s on her tail. His eyes burn into her back, but she tries not to focus on it while starting to unlock the door. She is greeted by her cats rubbing against her heels and she smiles automatically. Forgetting for a brief moment that Scarface is there, the girl takes the smaller one in her arms, hugging and kissing her soft dark fur. When she puts her down, the man is watching her with an amused expression.  

Her cheeks tingle and (y/n) makes her way to the kitchen, with Tony still following in silence. She pours herself a glass of water and offers it to him next, which he accepts, still staring at her with the same predatory demeanor. He’s going to try to do something ugly to her, obviously, and she is trying not to think about it, but it’s getting harder and harder. If she screams, no one will hear her. Fortunately or not, she has no neighbor on her floor. She makes a mental list of what objects she can throw at his head to make him pass out like in the movies; a brand new moisturizer that is full; a makeup bag; her favorite pan. If she is quick enough, maybe she can lock him in her room and call the police. 

(y/n) snaps out of her thoughts when Tony approaches her behind the counter, while she still holds a glass of water. She is staring at his chest when he calmly takes it from her hands and offers her a smile. She tries to hide her trembling fingers from his vision, but he notices them and takes her palm in his, raising it to her eye level.  

“Not so tough now, huh?”, he mocks, making (y/n) bite her own tongue so she doesn’t give him a sharp answer and gets punched because of it. He kisses her fingertips softly, catching her off guard. Tony notices her confused expression and grins again, lowering his face to bring it closer to hers. “What, you think I was gonna keep scaring you off? I’m not that bad, baby.” 

“If you say so.” She mutters reflexively, regretting it right away when his dangerous orbs fall on her. She sighs and looks away. “Sorry.” 

He nods approvingly. “Good girl.”  

There is an old gouache paintbrush she could use to pierce through his neck in case it gets bad. The glass pitcher is over the sink. (y/n) looks at the table and there’s a fork and a spoon. The big knife is in the drawer— 

Tony lets go of her hand and walks to her room. She listens to the sound of his wooden soles echoing against the tile floor a little astonished, before following him. She opens the door, which creaks imposingly through the empty, closed house, and her heart skips a beat when she hears the mattress shift, indicating he has settled into her bed.  

(y/n) is in front of her window to open it, but before she can do it, his arms wrap around her from behind and pull her away from it. She widens her eyes and tries to pull away, however, the grip tightens. She starts to shake more aggressively and an agonized scream leaves her mouth, causing his hand to slam against it, muffling the sound. She looks desperately at Tony and he’s signaling her to be quiet. Panic takes over her body and she gives up trying to get out of his grip. He seems happy with this decision and removes his palm from her lips, laying her body down on the bed and straddling her, legs wrapping around her waist as his knees sink into the mattress.  

Her eyes water and she closes them tightly, waiting for the inevitable. (y/n) remains like this for a few seconds, but nothing happens. She thinks maybe Tony has given up on what he wanted to do, however, when she opens her eyes again, his face is hovering over hers. His brown eyes are scrutinizing the girl minutely, there’s not a single vestige of that villainous smile that lives on his lips. She returns his gaze and they stare at each other in silence. His elbows are propped up against the mattress and his hands are still gripping her arms, holding them in place, but with no force.  

(y/n) wants to ask him what he’s doing, but the thought leaves her mind as soon as he takes a gun out of his pants. She screams in desperation, “help! Help! Someone help me!”  

“Shhh. Hey, calm down!”, Tony puts his hand over her mouth yet again, holding her down so she’ll stop her kicking. She watches, still horrified, as he places the gun on the chair beside her bed. “I’m not killing you, baby, calm down”, there’s a smirk on his features that makes her stomach turn. “Yet”, he adds, taking his palm away from her trembling lips. (y/n) tries to get up, but he pushes her back down. “I ain’t killing you, but I’m gonna do other things.” 

“No, no, please...” 

She can’t finish her pleas as his full lips crash onto hers, now in a kiss deeper and less brusque than the peck from earlier. The girl tries to resist at first, but soon her body speaks louder and she ends up giving in to the contact. She lets out an involuntary groan as his rough fingers lift the hem of her shirt, almost like an animal in heat. Damn hormones, she thinks in the back of her mind, not really caring for that much when his fingertips send shivers through her skin.  

Tony pulls apart so he can remove her garment, smirking at her bra-covered breasts. She blushes terribly. “You’re so cute, baby.” 

He kisses her again and (y/n) reciprocates vehemently this time, wrapping her legs around his waist tightly. His lips trace down her neck and she faintly laughs at the little tickle there, making him lift his face to look at her intently. There’s something different in his eyes, almost adoration, but she can’t finish the thought as he unbuttons her pants and unceremoniously pulls them down, leaving the girl in her underwear.  

Tony drops to his knees on the bed and shrugs off his iconic floral shirt and wifebeater. (y/n) can’t help but smile seeing his near-athletic pecs and gets on her knees too, silently volunteering to strip him out of his own pants. He watches closely as she unzips his jeans and unbuttons them, sliding them down his toned thighs. Tony finishes getting rid of the piece and goes back to kissing her neck urgently, leaving more aggressive caresses in place. A chill travels her spine when his member bumps into her stomach and she squeezes his arm reflexively, catching his attention.  

“You good?”, he asks, sounding so worried he seems to be another man completely different from the Scarface criminal who’s been with her until now.  

She simply nods and lets out another moan as his lips descend to the gap between her breasts, leaving sinuous kisses all the way down. He licks at the sweat accumulated there and kisses her again; a salty, icy kiss. A hand finds her face and trails her cheek lightly, while his tongue invades her mouth shamelessly. His touch is so gentle it looks absolutely nothing like the man who bruised her face twice with his brute strength. Tony gropes down her back and unbuckles her bra, making the girl shiver as he grips her nipple. Soon, he pays attention to them with his mouth and she bites her lip so as not to make too much noise. Still nibbling at the sensitive skin on her breasts, his deft hands slide down her panties and her face heats up violently.  

He slips two fingers into her without blinking an eye. (y/n) arches her back and blurts out a high-pitched groan, which had him chuckling, turning her on even more as his thick voice vibrated against her nipple. When his tongue meets her clit, the feeling is indescribably divine. She’s now a carefree mess of moans and ragged breathing. Tony’s hands grip her hips strongly, holding back her unconscious thrusts.  

He lifted his face again before she came, his chin visibly wet. “Got protection, baby?”  

“No”, she lets out an incredulous laugh. “I never did that, I didn’t have to...” 

“Right”, he says thoughtfully, as if just connecting the dots now. Tony fumbles in his pockets and doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for, so he looks back at her. “I got nothing on me either.”  

“What now?”  

They exchange a silent look and he shrugs, getting back on top of her body. “Now I’m pulling out y qué sea lo que Dios quiera.”  

(y/n) is going to protest, but Tony takes off his boxers and invades her without warning, causing her to groan in pain. He soon notices her expression and stands statue over the girl, waiting for her to recover. Tears form in her eyes once again and he leaves light kisses on her cheek, trying to calm her down. She smiles softly at the delicate and unexpected gesture. Soon she’s ready and he starts to move, gradually increasing the pace.  

The solemn creak of the bed is the only sound besides their gasping breaths and moans she can’t contain. Every now and then his golden chain hits her chin, however it doesn’t hurt, it’s but a little friction. His big hands are squeezing her breasts as he speeds up the movements little by little. (y/n) looks to the side and sees the revolver on the pink chair, the contrast of that scene making her want to laugh. She returns her attention to Tony and he’s got his eyes closed, mouth open, leaving wet kisses all over her cleavage. He’s dripping with sweat, just like her.  

He takes her lips again and only then does she return to the moment, losing herself in her own pleasure and letting the orgasm overtake her without precedent. Next up is Tony, who comes with a husky moan and one last kiss. He lets his body slide off hers, pulling out his cock while his cum paints them both. (y/n) kisses his face after the effect of orgasm and he returns the caress, pulling her into a fairly tight hug. She smiles at the contact and lets him hold her there for a few minutes. They’re silent the entire time, until he pulls the sheet from under the pillow to cover them. Tony and her exchange indecipherable, sinuous looks, and that’s when her penny drops. She just had sex with a criminal.  

Jesus. 

“This shouldn’t have happened”, she say abruptly, sitting up.  

Tony also sits down and shrugs.  “But it did. So what?”  

“So it won’t happen again!”, (y/n) exclaims in annoyance, not caring that this man has a gun and isn’t afraid to use it at all. “You need to go.”  

“Already? You just wanna use me and throw me away, huh? Now that’s cold, baby”, she rolls her eyes at his mockery and stares at the wall as he stands beside the bed, his stuff swaying back and forth. “Hey”, he calls, but she doesn’t answer. He then touches her chin and gives her a lingering, incredibly soft peck. She sighs as Tony pulls away and there’s a gentle smile on his face as he puts on his clothes. “You’re cute, (y/n).”  

“Thanks”, she timidly blurts out, not really knowing what to say. The girl looks for her underwear and tenses up as she watches him handle his revolver, placing it on his back again.  

He notices this. “I ain’t hurting you with that gun, you know? You can relax.”  

“Even if you don’t use it against me, it’s still a weapon”, she mutters seriously, turning her back to him so he can buckle her bra.  

He does the task and hugs her from behind, kissing her locks. “You don’t have to be afraid of anything with me, baby, not even a weapon.” 

She turns to face him, hugging his waist lightly. Tony gets serious all of a sudden and lets out a long breath as he finally releases her. He checks his pocket and fixes his messy hair in the small mirror on top of the dresser. Before leaving, they exchange one last look. None of them says a word. (y/n) watches him disappear behind the gate and looks around the empty house, returning to her room and closing the door. She stares at the completely messed up bed and the sheet painted by drops of blood and sperm, which they shared for a few seconds, now on the floor. Ha.  

Trouble with a capital “T”. 

♡♡♡ 

Two weeks after the incident, (y/n) didn’t go to her brother’s house anymore. But Elvira, being such a pain in her ass sometimes, had practically bullied her into going out tonight.  She was anxious, it’d been a while since she went out to have fun like this. Her fear of bumping into Tony—Scarface wasn’t exactly as strong as before, for obvious reasons, but she’d still rather not take her chances in finding him again. No matter how good his dick game was, he was a dangerous individual. Better to stay away. 

So, for the record; she fucked a hitman and was most likely falling in love with him, maybe even reciprocally, just after he got violent with her several times. Elvie obviously didn’t know about it yet, but what would she do when that time inevitably came? Because (y/n) was going to tell her, no doubt. She couldn’t keep it all to herself forever, hiding it from everyone like it was some sort of crime. Elvira would probably call her crazy and even threaten to lock her up in an asylum, wanting to choke Tony if it was as much as hinted he laid his hand on her. And she wasn’t even wrong for that! 

But what about her family? God, if her father knew... He’d go after Tony’s blood. He would simply never look her in the face again, especially since their relationship was already fragile enough because of Manolo. And what of her reputation? All of Miami would talk about this. She’d be the new bitch on the block for sure. No one would respect her, she’d become a joke. Not that she cared about what those people think of her, but it would be nice to stay anonymous. It was safe, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

With a heavy sigh, (y/n) finished getting ready and stared at her reflection, smiling faintly. Perhaps it was best to let those corrosive thoughts for tomorrow’s hangover. She grabbed her bag and locked her apartment, walking down the deserted street. As the club was close to her house, there was no reason for anyone to come and get her, so she’d go alone with no worries. It wasn’t like anyone was going to do anything to her on her quiet neighborhood, anyway, much less on the weekend. Plus, criminals in this town had a schedule and they liked to stick to it. At least the ones who grew up there. 

Already approaching the place, she saw Elvira with some of her friends waiting for her in the line. They greeted each other and entered the club, going for a table next to the bar. (y/n) immediately asked for a strong drink to try and calm down her nerves, feeling rather unfit for that environment after such a long time away from it. At the first glass, she felt lighter and smiling, pulling Elvie to the dance floor.  

They’re dancing and laughing like idiots when a tall man approaches them. He is moving to the song and calmly smoking a cigarette while he watches the girls, eyes glued to (y/n)’s form in specific. She doesn’t hear a word Elvira is saying over the music as she stares back at the guy, so distracted she accidentally knocks over a waiter’s tray behind her, making a huge mess. (y/n) apologizes quickly and starts clumsily picking things up on the floor, while the mysterious guy crouches down and helps her with it. She smiles shyly and they finish fixing everything in place.  

She thanks him softly and turns to go back to her table, but he grabs her arm gently. “In a hurry?”, he questions playfully, an amused smile on his full lips.  

She blushes. “Oh, no, I was just…”  

He shakes his head. “You’re a little shy, I can see that. Let’s put an end to this shyness now, come with me!”, he walks off, dragging her to the bar. “So, what’s your name?”, he asks, signaling for the bartender to bring them two beers.  

“(y/n).”  

“Frank, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Their drinks arrive and they make a toast, while she takes a big swig. Frank smiles and pulls her by the waist, taking her by surprise. “Lost your shyness yet?” 

“I...” 

He attacks her lips before she can finish, leaving a wet, beer-tasting kiss on her mouth. (y/n) has to make a tremendous effort not to drop the beer from her hand, making way for his tongue to explore every corner of her mouth. Frank separates them just to take another sip of his drink and starts kissing her neck. Elvira’s eyes from afar give her a surprised and mischievous look. She flashes her a smug smile, but as soon as she does, her friend’s expression completely shuts down and now it’s one of sheer panic. (y/n) frowns and turns to look at where she’s staring so terrified.  

She’s greeted by Tony’s aggressive hands pulling her away from Frank in a sudden movement. He drags her out of the man’s arms, keeping her behind his body. Tony then hits him with his fist. (y/n) widens her eyes with the amount of punches Tony is throwing at Frank and tries to get him off the guy, but he pushes her away. She looks around and people surround them, watching the fight in silence and astonishment, however no one moves a finger to help break it up. Of course. It’s Scarface.  

No one would dare stop him.  

Frank managed to leave a blow on Tony’s stomach, but he couldn’t dodge another punch to the jaw and fell to the ground, looking dizzy. When she thought Tony would back down and leave it at that, he went over to Frank’s body on the floor and striking him wildly again. She was desperate for help to separate them, but nobody did anything. (y/n) tried to pull Tony away from him and he pushed her once more, only this time she didn’t give up so easily. She grabbed his arm with all the strength of a slightly intoxicated person and made him look at her. The fury in his eyes slowly seemed to soften and he dropped Frank’s semi-conscious body. 

Once on his feet, Tony looks around him, menacingly showing his gun tucked into his pants. Everyone scatters like startled ants immediately, without him having to say a word. When they’re alone, he glances at Frank one more time and looks back at (y/n). His anger seems to have returned.  

“I wish I done that to you”, he begins, his thick voice making her shiver. She takes a step back, but he grabs her by the neck and pulls her close again. “Lucky for you, I’m doing good lately, baby. So I’m generous, you know? But you both should be fucking dead now.” (y/n)’s hands start to shake and her eyes water instantly at his words, fear taking over her entire body. She tries to free herself from his grip, but he won’t let her. He continues, “you are mine. Ain’t no one touching you but me from now on. Got it?” 

“Yes”, she chokes, tears falling down her face uncontrollably.  

Tony, however, doesn’t seem to feel any remorse for her deplorable state. Finally his hand lets go of her neck and she takes a deep breath, sobs leaving her throat aggressively. (y/n) gets as far away as possible and before she knows it, she’s running away. He doesn’t come after her, which she mentally thanks. She felt so scared and angry at that moment that she couldn’t think of anything but running, running for her life.  

♡♡♡ 

(y/n) got home and locked the door thoroughly. She isolated in her room and cried herself to sleep. It was dawn when she managed to close her eyes and rest for a few hours, only to be woken up by a loud noise outside the next day. There were loud bangs on the door, nearly knocking it over. Her breath hitched and she made sure to lock the bedroom door. Maybe she could just pretend nobody was home.  

Another banging thud, now it sounded like someone jumping on the floor. Then there was yet another furious knocking, this time on the front door. Her stomach turned. A bang on the window echoed in her ears and (y/n) began to cry profusely, sobbing in terror. A crash startled her and her eyes widened seeing the wooden blinds breaking in front of her.  

She unlocked the bedroom door in a second and ran behind her apartment, opening the kitchen door as it lead to emergency stairs. Footsteps approached once she managed to get out and run across someone’s yard. She looked for somewhere low enough for her to reach so she could climb, finding a little doghouse in the corner. There wasn’t anybody or anything around, thankfully. However, as soon as she started to take off, big arms grabbed her waist from behind, pulling down her body violently.  

She kicked as hard as she could, but Tony wouldn’t let go. He towed her back into her house and locked the kitchen door, dragging her by the arm back to her room. He threw the girl on the bed without any delicacy and looked at her from where he was standing. She continued to cry copiously, all her strength quickly draining away. (y/n) crouched close to the headboard and watched him sit on the far side, studying her in silence.  

“Crying ain’t doing you no good, baby.” She turns her face to the wall and he walks in her direction, crawling until he’s next to her. He whispers in her ear, “you can’t win for losing.” 

“Shut up!”, she pushes him away, taking Tony by surprise. He looks at her with raised eyebrows, but he doesn’t look annoyed.  

He looks pleased.  

“C’mon, now”, Tony approaches again, grabbing her chin to make her eyes stay on his. “Now, now you look like the fucking girl I met in that station. Badass baby”, (y/n) tries to pull away, but he doesn’t let her and gives her a forced peck. His stubble scratches her face and she grimaces, dodging and breaking the contact. This seems to irritate him deeply, because in the next second, his palm meets the soft skin of her cheek and the sensation burns. Tony pointed in her direction, warning, “don’t you ever do that again.”  

“I do whatever the hell I want”, she spits out, not caring about the consequences at this point.  

He gets hold of her neck, glaring. “No. You do what I want, you bitch.” 

(y/n) smirks, mockingly. “You think you’re offending me? How cute.”  

Tony then slaps her again, this time much harder, and she laughs out loud at his fragile ego. She pulls herself together and faces him again, pretending not to be shaken. Tears have dried under her eyes and she only cracks a half smile, taking in his scowling features. “You men are such a joke, so easy to figure out.”  

“Careful, baby”, he says in a warning tone, making her chuckle once more.  

“Who do I have to be careful with, you?”, she asks smugly, smacking the hand he lifted to squeeze her neck again. Tony is surprised, although he’s trying really hard not to show it. “You...”, she continues, lightly touching the collar of his shirt. “Who would never hurt me with a gun?”, (y/n) mimics his thick voice. He seems to get annoyed at that and takes her hand away from where it was, which makes her smile victoriously.  

Okay, so it’s not so bad having a criminal with a crush on her.  

“Shut up”, he orders.  

She simply shrugs and brings her face closer to his. Tony places a gentle kiss on her lips and excitement burns inside her as his palm goes straight to her ass, squeezing it. “Hold up, cowboy”, (y/n) mutters, although not really caring about his impatience. “Wanna explain to me what was that about last night?”  

“Told you, you’re mine.” He reiterates casually, trying to pull her onto his lap and kiss her, but she doesn’t allow it. Tony frowns again, speaking with a heavy accent, “what is it now?”  

“You almost killed the guy”, (y/n) points out. She didn’t want to make him feel remorseful or anything, she knew he just wouldn’t; it was all on her curiosity about the sick psychology in his head. She touches the collar of his shirt again and looks into his eyes, the most sincere she’s been so far, and practically begs, “what do you want from me, Tony?”  

Something very similar to confusion runs through his brown orbs, but it’s only for a millisecond, as he looks at her sternly right after. His hands remain promptly by each side of his body, and it makes her a little bit relieved he’s respecting her wishes. It’s a start. 

Of what exactly, (y/n)?  

“I want you, baby”, he says. His voice doesn’t betray any kind of vulnerability, though his gaze conveys less solemnity than his words. She watches him in silence until her eyes inevitably water. Tony frowns and touches her face quickly, holding her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. “What is it?”  

How can he not see? How does he have the courage to even ask what happened? Or are his actions merely impulsive and completely thoughtless, is that it? Does he not know that he was just hurting, hitting her? Does he not know that he was just insulting (y/n) and treating her like a goddamn worthless object? Because the same hands that slapped her cheek minutes ago are now hugging her and stroking her back, as if in an attempt to ease her loud sobs.  

She hears his voice in her ear, soothing, kissing her neck lightly. Maybe it’s all a dream, a hallucination in her head as she’s unconscious with this man doing God-knows-what to her. But it is not. His touch is as real as it was the last time, his pleasure intertwining with hers in a magnificent, if improvised, dance. And it’s as real as the first time their lips met, in a sheer display of power and dominance on his part, but which now reminded her only of a caress exchanged between two lovers. A comfort.  

“(y/n)...”, his deep voice calls again, however her eyes are glazed over the shattered window in front of her. He lifts her face to look at him and there’s a kind of desperation in his expression, even if it’s held back by pride greater than his own ego, if that’s possible. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“I know.” She hears herself speak, sort of in reflex, since it was true. She knew deep down he didn’t mean to hurt her. Maybe at first, yes, but then... Following that afternoon, a new chapter of this crazy story began to unfold. And they are entering one more after last night.  

“It’s true”, he reenforces, and (y/n) really wishes she had the strength to tell him that it’s okay, she understood, but the truth is that she was tired. Sold out. It had been so long since she had slept or eaten anything and she felt her limbs giving up on supporting her body at any moment. “(y/n)”, Tony insists, yet his voice is already a low sound that becomes more and more distant in her mind.  

Soon she doesn’t feel anything anymore.  

♡♡♡ 

The first time (y/n) opens her eyes, everything is blurry. On the second attempt, she notices a figure sitting on the chair beside her bed and a dim light coming from the window. On the third blink, she realized she had probably passed out—for how long was her first question, as the sun outside seemed to point at one or two in the afternoon.  

Tony was silently watching her as she positioned herself and felt her head almost explode into a thousand pieces. Her throat was dry, an unparalleled taste of shit in her mouth reminding her she hadn’t even brushed her teeth due to everything that had happened that day since she woke up. A sigh escaped her lips and (y/n) closed her eyes again, giving up on her efforts to sit up against the headboard. She felt so weak. Her fingers were trembling slightly and she was freezing to death, even with the sun at its peak and all the covers over her on the bed. She felt dizziness enveloping her body and thought she was going to faint again, but a large, rough, careful hand touched her arm.  

Tony looked hesitant, worried, recluse even. His eyes didn’t leave hers for a second and she felt slightly invaded, undressed as his irises watched over her without blinking. She stared at his palm on her forarm and tried to calm down, although her heart hammered inside her chest. “You didn’t eat anything today, did you?”, he asks, but it’s a rhetorical question.  

Tony then leaves her alone, not waiting for an answer, and returns with a plate in one hand and a glass in the other. (y/n) stares at the image in front of her and feels like chukling, but she contains herself. Instead, she sits up with some difficulty as he hands her the meal, returning to his rightful place on the pink chair. She takes a couple of bites and a huge relief rushes through her body as the food reaches her stomach. It had been almost a day since she had anything to eat. She didn’t even know how she didn’t vomit her ass off with all the alcohol she had last night.  

The girl sipped the juice as she paid more attention to her surroundings. Tony took care of her while she was unconscious and even cooked. He, the hitman who scared even the most dangerous gangsters in Miami, cooked her a stroganoff and made her an orange juice. It sounded like a scene from a sugary romance movie.  

“It’s just a hangover”, she finally speaks up, her throat still a little dry.  

“It’s not”, Tony turns around and sits leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at her intently. She gazes at her plate and continues to eat in silence, while he continues, “I’m real sorry, (y/n).” If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have spit out her juice in surprise. (y/n) glanced at him completely horrified, as if he had confessed to an atrocity. Tony stays with the same solemn expression, a little less proud now.  

“For what?”, a shiver runs down her legs. She didn’t want to be insistent, but curiosity was killing her inside.  

Tony, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by the question. “For hitting you. And for doing all of that last night.”  

“You shouldn’t apologize to me for what you did”, she mutters bitterly. 

Tony only shrugs. “I didn’t mean to hit you.” He repeats, and she closes her eyes when all that tangle of feelings hits her chest once more. He reaches over and takes her hand, giving her a pleading look. “I swear I ain’t ever laying a finger on you again, baby. You gotta believe me.”  

Her eyes water involuntarily and she holds his hand back firmly, looking at him with a half-broken smile, trying in vain to give him some comfort. “I know”, she begins, voice cracking at the end. “I know, okay? You were angry. I understand.”  

Tony scowls and shakes his head. “No. (y/n), that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t...” 

“I know. It was wrong, Tony, I know, but you didn’t think straight. And neither did I, actually. It happened, there’s no reason to dwell on it. Everything is fine, really.” She looks into his eyes once more and smiles when he nods after a while, still a little hesitant. The girl brings his hand to her lips and kisses it slowly.  

He smiles weakly. “You scared the fuck out of me, you know”, he mumbles, and there’s a hint of desperation in his voice. “I thought I did something to make you pass out. The fear, I don’t know...”  

“That wasn’t it. I’m not afraid of you, Tony”, she assured him, since it wasn’t a total lie. When he was just him, without that domineering, abusive criminal side, she wasn’t afraid of Tony. No longer. (y/n) sighs and finishes her meal, setting her plate on the table beside her, feeling considerably better. “Come here”, she extends her arms to him and Tony goes without blinking, hiding his face in her neck and lying with her on the bed.  

She didn’t know exactly what that meant. Having sex with a murderer who only mistreated her already wasn’t so understandable, but having some kind of relationship with him? It sounded pathetic in her mind. It’s not like he would even want anything to do with her besides sex, but she couldn’t believe that as the seconds went by and he kissed her neck so softly, apologizing endlessly for his transgressions, mumbling that he would never hurt her again, that she’d never need to be afraid of him again...  

Her head was going to explode.  

(y/n) looked down to meet his gaze and stroked his hair, smiling like a lovestruck idiot. She just couldn’t believe this was happening—and somehow she did. Because of course she wouldn’t resist for long. Even when she was shaking like a leaf, still she couldn’t fight his caresses, imagine it now that Tony seems so willing to make up for all his mistakes? 

“Antonio...”, he mutters, barely audible, making her frown. He gives her a small smile and kisses her, mumbling against her lips, “my name.” 

“Really?”, (y/n) asks in disbelief, since now she was probably the only person in town who got that information, but Tony seemed more than comfortable sharing it with her.  

He’s still looking at her with the same little smile on his face. “Really. Why?” He lifts his body to rest on one arm, staring at the girl with some amusement.  

She grins and kisses him again, leaving several pecks on his stubble. “For nothing. It’s just a really nice name.”  

Her eyebrows dance and he laughs, making her insides melt at the sound of his laughter. It was the first time she heard it and she didn’t want to hear any other sound for the rest of her life. It was such a full 180 from the big, bad Scarface. 

(y/n) knew “I want you” was very far from “I love you”, but that knowledge didn’t stop her heart from skipping a beat whenever she remembered those words. Besides, even if the latter was the case, it was just never going to be that simple with Tony. She looked at his sparkling brown eyes and let out a deep, dreamy sigh. She was down hard for that dangerous, dangerous man, yet there was nothing but softness inside of her as he held her into his arms. What he did away from her could be as ugly as it came to be, and it still would never compare to how warm she was in his presence—be it for the anger, for the lust or for the comfort he made her feel. So, it was fine. She could handle it.  

She’s always been a bit of a troubleshooter, anyways. 

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hope you're having a good day/night!

Hope you don't mind, could we get Caine, ragatha and kinger with a S/O reader who laments they wanted to have kids before getting stuck in the circus, and now worry that might be something they won't get to have now stuck in the circus? Sometimes they hesitantly ask if, if they ever got back to the real world, would it be something they would also want? Thinking about a possible future outside the circus makes them feel just a little better

If that's okay!

Caine, Ragatha, and Kinger w/ a partner who wants kids

Ooooo boy this ones gonna hurt, I havent even started writing but my heart aches

CAINE:

He looks...

Sad

He cant leave the digital world, so the idea of having children with you

Even if you escaped

It just cant happen

For once he goes quiet and you can tell something is wrong

The fact he may not he able to leave, as an AI, never crosses your mind

He seems to become

Sad?

When you grieve over the loss of the children you never got to have

Sure, he could probably make NPC children, but that's not the same nor does it feel right

I think this would also serve as a harsh reminder to him that if you leave the circus, he cannot follow you. It also reminds him just how different the two of you are

RAGATHA:

The question actually gives her pause, when you finally drop it

She never really thought about kids, I mean yeah sure shes thought about the possibility of escape, but kids?

She's not... fully opposed to the idea, I think.. she also doesn't think she'd make the worst mother, with her naturally caring personality

I think this actually gives her hope that one day you guys might be able to escape

Together

Please dont abstract and give up on her, it would break her heart. Both because shes lost you, and because the future you two were planning will now never happen

KINGER:

I like to think that kinger was a father before getting trapped in the circus

And it hurts knowing he doesn't currently remember his kids

Would their memories return if they escaped the circus? Or would they only remember the circus and onwards?

Both hurt, I think. On one hand, the first option will give kinger that guilt and make him feel like he accidentally abandoned his children. On the other hand, these kids now have a father that doesnt recognize him

But onto the actual requests question, I think he would be very open to it! He strikes me as a family man, would love to have at least a few kids with you

When you escaped

When

That word does something to him, and he cant exactly explain why

[madockisser]

Why do you wanna kiss Madoc?

not sure if ppl are actually weirded out by my user or not, which most certainly is not my intention, but i feel the need to rant abt my thoughts on madoc! i also don’t wanna deter anyone bc of my user 😭! btw i totally understand if u hate him w all your guts like truly i get it but don’t hate on me for not! my user is mostly a joke! (also i LOVE cardan and jude sm more than madoc obviously just the “madockisser” user is funnier and so few ppl talk abt madoc so i feel the need to 😭)

madoc raised 3 children that weren’t his, was willing to risk quite literally everything to become king so his poor mortal daughters will be treated like princesses in a world where they’re treated like garbage. madoc has his faults(like trying to make poor oakey pokey king), but a lot of them can be chalked up to his redcap nature, being bloodthirsty and power hungry and just not understanding jude and her morals since their morals and life experiences are just SO different

him and jude have the same goal, except madoc and his nature, his morals, make the execution of that goal and the endpoint a bit different. jude is trying to save oak from being king so he won’t have to grow up bloodthirsty and drenched in blood like she did, while madoc is trying to make oak king, which he thinks is obviously the best thing he can do for him since madoc is so power hungry.

in their own eyes, they each think what they have planned for oak is best, and obviously to madoc making his son king after slaughtering nearly the rest of the greenbriar bloodline which solidifies his succession to the throne is a great boon, and in his eyes, jude isn’t trying to keep him from doing that to protect oak, (since he doesn’t understand that jude grew up so miserably) he sees jude trying to take/keep oaks throne from him.

jude says in her inner monologue at some point that she’s sure that madoc would relinquish the throne to oak when he’s of age, since he’s a man of honor or wtv, and madoc obv thinks this is just the best course for oak. why wouldn’t madoc want his children powerful and bloodthirsty? he wants them to be like him, and more than that, he doesn’t want them to slave away for a greenbriar like madoc did to eldred and balekin and dain(which he reveals in the stolen heir duo)

another thing is his morals when it comes to dain. he was livid in a way oriana had never seen when he heard about what dain did to oak and liriope. which makes perfect sense for him because he has honor enough to not slaughter a woman for being pregnant and by extent taking the life of the child inside just to remain in power and in favor.

dain did something that madoc inherently disagreed w. so madocs decision was obviously to betray him and run him through after replanning. it’s just in his nature. he replans, betrays, and resorts to murder when it matters lol. he does the same (sorta) w balekin by using him as a ploy to get oaks throne. balekin who has human slaves treated terribly, while madoc had a human wife and human children. i’m shocked balekin didn’t see madocs betrayal coming.

and even tho jude did something he inherently disagreed w/ and didn’t try to understand (which frustrates me sm) he gives her so many chances to come back to his side, he gives her advice, he gives her chances, betraying his nature for his daughter until qon, when he finally resorts to murder. fucking devastating.

on a lighter note, i do think it’s funny tho that despite it all he was still a better father than eldred and dain, and better guardian than balekin. though i will say that i do NOT excuse so many of madocs actions (bc he causes my poor baby jude so much pain), and when i’m actively rereading esp during qon i do in fact hate that mf, …i just think he’s dilf-y.

unrelated but he’s like the lead of a monster romance. holly black actually has another green sweetheart-chemist murdery bf, in her book valiant, but he’s too niche like nobody knows abt him which is so sad bc he’s sooooo cute and sweet. “ravuskisser” would be my user

i love reading his and jude’s dynamic, i love reading abt him and eva and him and oriana. i love in tpt when he FINALLY says something abt eva, finally understanding why she left him, and him owning up to his mistakes, but then saying , “but if it were not for my mistakes, i would not have the family i have today.” 😭😭😭😭😭

ALSO, the exile. it was so necessary. madoc living amongst humans helps him realize so much about eva, jude and taryn. “since humans have a shorter lifespan, they would risk much for happiness.” he says (not word for word) in tpt when speaking of eva, but ofc it also applies to jude and taryn.

anyway i guess moral of the story i like madoc bc daddy issues ig and also his complexity, holly black is a genius at writing morally grey faeries w diff mindsets! also how jude describes him to be a “tall man” the second he’s on the page like damn i get it eva and ori! anyway even holly black supports madoc kissers like me so don’t judge me!

[statistically-spencer]

Fortunate Dream PT. 2

Summary: Your dream of joining the BAU was becoming more and more real. How will you handle sharing a private jet with your favorite characters?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (eventual), BAU members x reader(platonic)

A/N: Sorry for the long wait on this one! I finished Calculus 1 in 4-weeks while also being in a musical so I ran out of time there for a bit. Enjoy!

w/c; 783

Part 1 here

As confused as you were, you were having a great time experiencing the relationship that dream-you had with the members of the BAU. Everyone seemed to like you just fine.

On the jet, you found a place to sit in the window seat on the opposite side of the isle, where Derek sat, leaving an empty seat next to yourself. Derek gave you an assuring smile. You wondered how many traits that you, and this version of you had that overlapped. Did the team know about your fear of flying? Did they know about your raging crush on Dr. Spencer Reid? Did they know that you had absolutely no idea what you were doing and that you totally should not be there right now?? 

Glancing up, you made eye contact with Spencer, who seemed to be walking suspiciously close to your row.

Oh.

You tried to act natural as he took a seat next to you. 

You didn’t have to act natural for long, though, because in an instant the jet began to roll forward, faster and faster.

You swallowed deeply.

“Are you okay, Y/n? I know you never like flying but you seem like something is really off.”

“No, I’m okay.” You lied, “I’m just... I just didn’t sleep much last night and I’m really tired.”

“Oh, well you know, there’s no need to worry about turbulence. If anything, we should really be concerned about-”

“Spencer, no offense, but if you’re about to tell me about how what we should really be concerned about is the onset of a thunderstorm, contributing to the possibility of microbursts, I’d rather not hear it.”

You heard a chuckle and looked up to see Derek standing next to you. 

“Oooh, she’s got you figured out, Reid. Better be careful.”

You blushed. You were only remembering something Spencer had said in an episode of Criminal Minds. Had that episode happened yet in this timeline? 

“Oh no... I was just... I just don’t need to be any more freaked out than I already am right now.” You cleared your throat. 

Spencer smiled at you, “We’ll be fine.”

You were trying to think of something to say to the man. Anything. This was your chance to talk to the love of your life and you were drawing a blank. You couldn’t think of one clever thing to say to him. You just kept looking up at him, and whenever you looked, it seemed like he was looking, too. Which was probably a good sign, right? Instead, it was mostly silent. With you making the occasional attempt to look fine whenever there was turbulence. 

In the midst of everything, you forgot that you were, for the time being at least, a real FBI agent. And, you were in fact, actually dealing with criminals. However, those facts became extremely apparent when Garcia phoned in with details about the case. 

It was hard to focus when Spencer was sitting next to you the entire time. Being so real. So cute. So... Good smelling somehow. 

“-Well, we know hardly anything about the suspect.”

If you had been in a laughing mood after hearing all of the gruesome details of the case, you would’ve laughed at Emily’s statement.

“Male. Thirty-five-”

You froze, realizing that you and Spencer were saying the same thing.

“...Keeps within his inner circle.” You finished, looking Reid up and down slowly.

A quick glance around the jet told you that this was not an uncommon event. In fact, the knowing looks that were being shared by the rest of the team said quite the opposite.

Spencer blinked, trying to come up with more information.

“Also he definitely has children.”

“Obviously.” You blinked, looking around.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Luckily, the look on Spencer’s face wasn’t disgust like you expected. He looked... Proud? Happy?

Wait a minute. You were so caught up in information about the case that you didn’t stop to wonder how you came to that conclusion. Was that normal for you? Were you also a super genius? Perhaps. It was highly plausible, now that you were thinking about it. You were obviously young like Spencer was. Why else would you be on the team at that age? Huh. You liked being smart. It was cool.

“We’ll need to split up upon arrival-” Hotch interrupted your thoughts, “Prentiss you’ll be with Morgan, you’ll share a room at the hotel as well. And Y/L/N, you and Reid will be staying in the other room.”

Oh.

You stole a quick glance at Spencer. The over-confidence you had both been showing had disappeared in an instant.

“You got it, boss.” You tightened your lips.

Why would you say that?

[mediocreanomaly]

Baby Fever with Trigun Boys!

Authors Note: I’ve been so obsessed with the Trigun baby post recently it’s been filling my head with thoughts, so here’s all the Trigun boys with if they would want kids + how many kids I think they’d have! (w Livio, Razlo, and Legato because they never get enough love 💔)  

Trigger warning: hints of pocd in Legatos (his is at the very end so you can stop reading before his if it’s a sensitive subject) 

Vash:

Would Vash want kids? Yes...eventually 

•When he first thinks about having kids with you he’s over the moon excited but then the longer he thinks about it the more nervous he gets. He does want a baby but he already feels bad for dragging you along and putting you in danger, and he’s got a bit of a self loathing streak (he makes me so sad) so he’ll probably slow down and try to convince you to wait until he stops his brother to have a family

•The other thing is he’s also not even sure if it’s possible, plant and human hybrid??? it’s never been done, not that he’s not eventually down for trying

•Although once he gets it in his head that you want a baby with him he discovers a side of himself that he didn’t know existed until now, rest assured you won’t be leaving the bed anytime soon.

•If you get pregnant before Vash can stop his brother he might mope just a bit apologizing despite you not really being mad, but it doesn’t last long. Then he’s both super excited and super stressed! What do babies need? are you hot? cold? do you need him to carry you? need help reaching something? he’s there fussing over you like a mother hen

•If you get pregnant after he deals with Knives, then he’s a lot more eager right off the bat, excited to start a family after everything he’s been through (still a mother hen though)

•Vash 👏 has 👏twins 👏

•Two little girls to be exact! one for each arm, one for each parent! Double the cuteness!

• Vash is a very good dad, eager to raise his children the way he thinks Rem would want him to, plus he has you! They grow a bit faster than human children thanks to the plant genes but not nearly as fast as Vash and Nai grew up so luckily you guys get to still enjoy them being small

• As the twins grow up they are eerily similar to how Vash and Nai were as children. In fact Vash gets a bit nervous when his other little girl takes on so many personality traits of his older brother, he stresses about it a bit, not that he didn’t love Nai but he doesn’t want history to repeat itself. Luckily he has you by his side, every time he lets his thoughts run wild, he watches the way you so gently parent the twins...he takes a small breath of relief. He feels in a way...he failed his brother but this is different, this time it’ll be okay

Wolfwood:

Does he want kids? Yes  👍

•Wolfwood loves kids so it’s natural he’d want some of his own and especially if it’s with you

•Thing is slightly similar to Vash he’d be a bit reluctant to have kids right now. He’s got a lot on his plate and he also has a bit of a self loathing streak (Trigun boys x therapy) he isn’t sure he deserves to start a family with someone as good as you

•When you do start a family Nick goes from 0-100 real fast, and by that I mean he goes from being protective to guard dog mode 24/7 but can you blame him? He’s seen how dangerous the world is he’ll die before he let’s anything happen to you or his unborn child

•Your first kid is a little girl, one that grows up to be...a little too much like her father. Sarcasm is her default speech and she’s a little head strong, but very protective of her family

•Now I don’t see enough people talking about this but??? Wolfwood??? would for sure want to adopt a kid??? He grew up in an orphanage, so of course your second kid was adopted. As much as he loves your daughter he knows how much the kids at the orphanage need a good home, so you welcome in a little boy. One that's a bit timid and shy and reminds Wolfwood all too much of little Livio when he was young, safe to say it pulls on his heart strings

•The last kid is the baby! Your daughter and son are a bit older and the third was admittedly a bit of an accident, not an unwelcomed one, but not planned. Either way Nick is happy about it (plus he’s really good at taking care of babies) In all you tie off your happy little family with three kids (four if you count nick lol)

•Wolfwood is a good dad though. Also he’s the kids favorite, so expect to get jealous when after school all the kids run into his arms. Don’t expect condolences either, this man will look up at you, all the kids in his arms and give you the biggest shit eating grin too...the bastard.

Knives

Would he want kids? Yes if you take care of them lmao

•Okay so unlike Vash and Wolfwood, Knives sees himself as an apex, so he can protect you and his kids from anything, if he decides he wants kids he doesn’t feel the need to wait

•The only thing is...it’s cannon he’s got a thing for impregnation right? but you have to realize this is for Plants, plant children aren’t like human children (or in this case plant/human children?) they grown alot faster, understand alot quicker, and he’s not the most...nurturing guy in the world. 

 •So buckle up because you’ll be in charge of most the children's care! don’t worry too much though, if you ask for something he’ll provide it so you won’t ever need to stress about not having anything. 

•During the pregnancy he’s fiercely protective over you, keeping you in his private wing in a plush bed. Only letting Legato help take care of you and Conrad whos in charge of your check ups

•Now honestly I’m not sure how many kids he’d have, so I see one of two options

•option one, an only child. One that he has you raise then begins to take more under his wing as he or she grows up. A child that's, in a way, the heir of everything Nai has built, one that will grow to be as strong as their father (with hopefully a bit more care thanks to you)

•option two, lots of children. Once he sees your pregnant the first time...well he likes you like that, might as well keep you like that all the time right? Besides don’t you want to continue his legacy?

•Either way he does like love  his children, he just has a hard time showing it. He tries to show he cares though i mean you’ve seen how he is with Vash. Honestly I think it’s easier for your kids to understand their fathers affections since their half plant, gives them a better insight you know? (if you mess with them it’s literally the quickest way to die though so it’s not like that aren’t under his care still) 

Livio

Does he want children? 100% Yes!

•This man...ugh this man

•Livio 100% wants kids with you, he’s a gentle giant and a soft soul at heart. He wants nothing more than to settle down with you and have a couple little feet running around.

•This man is so patient so caring with you. He’s also a little scared he’ll hurt you once you’re pregnant I mean look at you!!! you’re so cute! waddling around all that baby weight, what if he crushes you? or bumps into you and hurts the baby? what do you mean that's not how that works?

•Despite his worries you welcome a happy healthy baby girl, who he’s still a little apprehensive about hurting at first but once you guide him through holding the little bundle of joy he’ll settle a bit

•So you have your first little girl, and after about a year you decide to try for another. You and livio decide you want to try to have one boy one girl, only thing is...you have another little girl! but that's okay! because a year after that you try again...and have another little girl. Livio accepts his fate after that.

•all jokes! Livio really does love his little girls to death, he doesn’t really care if he has a little boy or not, besides it’s endlessly hilarious to come home and see this hulk of a man surrounded by three little girls, one of which has dressed him up in a pink tutu so he can attend her royal tea party, another using her cheap kid make up to make him “the prettiest girl at the ball” while she smears eyeshadow on his face and another one yet pulling what hair he has into multiple little pig tails. 

•Now I do have one small headcannon that only applies if you are in a relationship with both Livio and Razlo. If you are in a relationship with both the boys then Razlo sees the girls as his kids but not his kids if that makes sense...as in he helps raise them as his own but he doesn’t feel like he in particular made them you know?

•Razlo will probably ask if he can try for one kid with you (if you know what I mean) and you'll end up with one more kid, your youngest and ofcourse...it’s a boy! Razlo will never let Livio live this down, he will tease Livio about this fact forever. “What like it was hard?” “Shut up Razlo” 

Razlo

Does he want kids? Maybe?

•Razlos a little on the fence about kids at first. He’s spent his life training, protecting, killing. As cocky as he acts he isn’t sure he’d be a good dad.

•Once he get’s more settled into his life not constantly fighting he’ll start to consider it though, because Razlo does like kids it’s just...he spent his whole life protecting Livio he had just never really considered the fact he might one day have a family of his own

•When you’re pregnant he follows you around like a puppy, his broad form is like a large shadow keeping a watchful eye over your smaller form. Unlike Livio though he’s a little less scared of his strength, in fact he likes to use it to his advantage, why waste his gift right? so expect him to try to carry you around everywhere. Also don’t even think about lifting anything, that’s what he’s for!

•As mentioned in Livios if you are in a relationship with both Razlo and Livio then Razlo will only really try to get you pregnant once after all Livios kids born. He’s content with raising all the girls and one little boy. (Razlo also gets swept up into the parties. He puts up a bit more of a fight and complains and bit more then Livio does but he loves them so he deals with it.) 

•As for his little boy he tries to get him into more traditionally masculine things so he can have a break from playing princess but he’s actually very accepting of whatever his kids want to do. If his little boy end up liking the stuff he does? great! If he doesn’t and just wants to join his sisters? also great! I mean, he’s a little less thrilled there's now four sets of hands hastily applying lipstick to his face, but that’s life. (Jokes on him, it ends up being one of the little girls who’s a little tomboy. “papa Razlo? can we go catch bugs?” “Oh thank god yes let’s go”) 

•But!!! If you are in a relationship with just Razlo then it’s a bit different. He’ll probably end up with two kids, both boys. The first boy is alot like him, very loud, blunt, and protective. He’s also a bit of a trouble maker and it doesn’t help Razlo is a bit of a yes man which ends in both of them with their heads bowed while you scold them

•Your younger one is a bit more of a gentle soul. A lot more shy, more of an introvert and defiantly glued to you in his younger years. Razlo doesn’t 100% understand his interest as he gets older but he does try, in fact his shy nature reminds him a lot of Livio which makes him a bit protective of your youngest. in all he ends up being a great dad

Legato

Does he want kids? No.

•Now listen, you need to understand, this man did not have a good childhood, in fact he didn’t have a childhood.

•He doesn’t have any experience with kids and the way he was treated as a child...yeah he’s got a lot of trauma around the whole concept of children as a whole, and honestly it’d have to be pretty far in your relationship for him to even be willing to be physical enough with you to even have the chance to conceive a kid.    

•so no he doesn’t want kids. 

•but lets say accidents happen and somehow the two of you are a bit careless and you end up pregnant 

•oh boy are you ready? Because Legato makes me really sad. He’d be a bit distant during your pregnancy, he doesn’t really know how to feel about all this, he never imagined himself as a father and now...

•When your baby is first born (a little boy) you’re going to have to do all the care. It’s rough but honestly with his trauma? he’d be scared to death to touch his kid. He’s paranoid. He knows what he went through and he’s scared. What if he hurts his kid? What if the same thing happens to him? In reality he’d never and I mean never hurt his kid but it’s a common for this kind of paranoia in victims of the type of abuse Legato suffered.

•It’s a rough couple of first years but after some reassurance (and therapy! please get this man therapy!) He slowly comes around. No matter what though he’s protective. Like I said he knows how cruel humanity can be, and even in the first years with his paranoia he’ll be damned if anyone hurts his little boy. In fact he might go a bit over board and refuse to let anyone even touch him or pick him up besides you

•Once he settles in though...it’s not so bad. He slowly warms up to him, admittedly it’s a bit rocky at first. To your little boy Legato is a bit of a stranger living in the same house of him since Legato refuses to let himself get too close, but give it time and they’ll slowly bond.

“I’m told you like to read?” “...yeah” “maybe...I could give you some of my favorite books? would you like that?” “...okay.”

•Don’t worry!!! the two end up okay. Despite the less than ideal start, Legato gains more confidence the more he interacts with his son. Especially since they have a lot of the same interest. At the end of the day Legato realizes something, he want’s to give his kid the childhood he never got to have.

[donnapalude]

it seems to be a widely held opinion that claudia's attempt to be considered a sister was a sweet but unrealistic illusion. and i concur that you can't really stop being someone's daughter, insofar as the past can't be rewritten. but i don't know that i fully agree that lestat was "right" by saying you can't just change a family configuration. what he meant by it was accurate to the situation at the time, but i wouldn't say it holds universally.

translating the scene through lestat's lenses, what he meant to convey was that, by virtue of him being claudia's father-maker, it was impossible for them to renegotiate their power dynamic so that she could stop being subjected to his will. this due to a set of pragmatic considerations: i) in the context in which he was raised, there was little to no way for a child (or a wife) to obtain autonomy outside the patriarchal reach, and the situation in nola is not that different; ii) the difference in vampiric power between them; iii) his exclusive access to information and knowledge about the vampire world that would leave claudia and louis defensless without him. the factual nature of the power imbalance entails that by reworking the practical and societal conditions surrounding the family, roles can in fact change! there's still work to be done, but some years down the line from that scene a daughter will be able to stop being such! legally even! vampiric knoweldge can be gained and vampiric power also. it's still difficult to actually match your maker for both and there's the vampiric bond to account for, the role of which is not really clear yet in iwtv, but still the possibility exists. and despite the fact his words actually reflect lestat's worldview and, at the time of the scene, also the reality claudia and louis live in, lestat is also aware that some change can come. he has after all escaped his own patriarchs and abusers over time. and in fact he holds on even more tightly to those practical means of subjugation, because he knows everyone's role is predicated upon them.

apart from structural and material power, the specificity of a parent/child bond clearly contains other nuances. the main discriminators from other types of relationship are the intense responsibilities for caretaking (practical and emotional) that, ideally, should only flow one way. except this aspect also gets complicated, even in normal human relationships. once children grow and parents age, it is not uncommon for this paradigm to be inverted. and for younger children, heavy parentification over formative years eliminates the paradigm altogether. factoring vampirism in this makes the situation even more complex. as lestat is a father figure to both by virtue of being their maker, louis and claudia are in some ways also siblings under a shared authority. not at the beginning maybe, when claudia is so much younger that she would functionally be louis's child even if she was his actual sister. but that is certainly true later, as she matures and lestat is back to rule over them. on top of that, in the meantime, claudia also undergoes a more regular role-reversal, as for a time she is louis's sole caretaker while he is able to provide little but companionship to her. which is not only a change in the configuration of their daily activities. as a child your parents are not really full people: they exist only as the facet of their being that is supposed to provide for you. when you are forced to see them in their entirety, they inevitably stop being only your parents. other roles get added: friends, dependants, partners. but you can hardly go back to the before. and, as vampires have long lives, it is very easy for me to imagine the possibility of this kind of relationships going through a plethoras of iterations, until you feel little connection with the version of yourself that was once a child in someone's arms. this is not even touching potential incestual readings, because i am trying to stick to the show, which has mostly avoided them.

all of this is to say that framing claudia's proposal to be considered a sister as naive and unfounded fails in my opinion to capture the complexity of how actual families work and also the specific pain underneath this proposal. i don't think with her request claudia is simply trying to get flimsy recognition of a role that would make her feel less subjected to lestat's power (she knows she is not safe anyway). and i also don't think it's a way to justify exculpating louis to herself (she is already doing that by recognising his position as a victim of domestic abuse). although i do feel that with regard to louis specifically she at least sees a possibility to be a true sister due their solidal position as fledglings/children of lestat, while she would prefer being nothing to lestat and escaping him, i think what she is generally asking while she is stuck at home is simply for lestat and louis to recognise formally that their respective roles to each other have already changed substantially. lestat believes patriarchal power begets responsibilities over the family (protection from external harm, economic support etc.) and this regardless of the debate on how well he performs them and how hypocritical the system becomes when it doesn't include protection from the patriarch himself. and to an extent louis agrees (he also felt the same responsibility towards his family, although his patriarchal role was ill-fitting). but claudia is asking them to consider that actually the paradigm should be inverted and it is responsibility that should beget power. parents should have power over children only insofar as they have a duty to take care of them when they are unable to provide for themselves. even discounting claudia's age (as her mental age increasing while physically she remains a young girl complicates matters with respect to how much she needs louis and lestat to navigate the world) the fact remains that, by failing to give her care and protection, by withdrawing the support she was owed and leaving her to fend for herself, by actively harming her, they have renegated that responsibility and the power that comes with it. by making her take care of louis and then making her responsible for mainting the happiness of their marriage they have even shifted that responsibility to her. in other words, they have functionally treated her as an adult when it suited them, while still wanting to treat her as a child when they needed her to come to heel. this is why i don't believe her request to be neither delusional nor absurd. it may be naive in the sense that she is placing too much trust in two men that fundamentally do hold patriarchal values (although louis makes a good attempt at battling his). and of course she can never erase the fact that she was their daughter originally: even if betrayed, you never really lose the expectation of receiving that unconditional love that asks for nothing. if she was only sister, she would not feel the pain of disappointment. but saying it was inevitable and appropriate that they could only ever see her as a daughter removes a lot of culpability from them and frames her story as something that it is not. it implies that she was really only a child, that louis and lestat were correct in recognizing that and that the tragedy of her life stems from her inability to accept the impossibility of growing up.

i simply disagree. i think iwtv makes a clear case to say that claudia does reach emotional (if not physical) maturity and that she has all the abilities and responsibilities of an adult. so when lestat and louis don't recognize that, they are not right. or at least not fully. there can be sweetness in a parent's residual instinct for protection that does not translate to stifling. but in this case, they are also projecting their own desire for control (lestat) and guilt over failed father/motherhood (louis) on claudia and fitting her into the role that best serves the fulfillment of their needs. which could lead to the conclusion that her tragedy hinges on simply being an adult that is constantly infantilised. but i think it's a bit more complicated than that. in claudia's story childhood is not simply a cage to escape, its role is much more ambivalent. after her turning, claudia's world is still a place of magic and wonders. she has a colorful inner life, a joyously curious mind and a clear creative streak. she revels in the blood and the hunt and she is vicious only as a child can: there's no calculation to it, it just feels good! it's fun! she also has a measure of hope and faith in lestat and louis, and it's not perfect, but overall i think she feels protected and safe. killing charlie, seeing him burn, lestat's abuse, her sexual assault, all mark a violent end to this life in a way that irrevocably closes the door on it. she can never return to that girl that hides in her fantasies, she must face reality now. but the separation is not painless. a longing for it remains, in her search for the uncomplicated love of a new family and her desire to lose herself in plays and characters, to dream again for a little bit. however, a rejection is also there. that little girl was naive and knew nothing and bad things happened to her because of it. she must be strong and sharp now and never again be lulled in a sense of safety. what she is escaping here, is not the entire concept of childhood, but the powerlessness of it, which comes partly from the defenselessness of an innocent mind, and which her physical form and people's infantilisation keep pressing on her. claudia is not just a child wanting to be an adult or an adult treated like a child. her mind and body being at odds reflect the fact that she is somehow stuck between childhood and adulthood, subjected to the worst aspects of both according to the whims of others. what is tragic about her story does not relate to an unavoidable fracture in her psyche. it has everything to do with the very avoidable treatment she receives from people around her. and it is as much rooted in the fact that she was forcibly evicted from the ideal safety of her status as a child as in the fact she was forced to continously relive the lack of control in it. in other words, in the breaking of the illusion that children being brought to life and being subjected to parental power is always for their benefit.

the sister-daughter conundrum ultimately leads back to this. claudia's request to anoint her of her new role represents a desire to be at least spared of the hope of being treated like a daughter/child and move on by acknowledging the bitter truth that she is a sister/adult. however, the fact she needs to ask is very telling as is the fact she reverts to hope as soon as a new family is in sight. and i am sorry to always come back to her death by i find it difficult not to think about this circularly. her last glance at lestat also holds this contradiction to me. to say it's just condemnation or just yearning does not cut it. it must be both. it's a prayer already anticipating disappointment. it's a challenge to face her pain, belying the desire to have it recognised. it's a last request to be both loved as a child and respected as a woman. in my reading of her, i try to grant this request.

[mysticpear]

running list of my favorite moments from Paris 2024

the rapper who now sponsors women's wapo

stephen from penn state and everyone being obsessed with pommel horse now

SIMONE BILESSSSSSSSS literally eating after tokyo and at age 27 (dont fact check me im not doing google searches)

jade carrey's grace after her quals on floor

womens gymnastics having qualifiers on every event in the top 3

womens gymnastics leading all teams by FIVE WHOLE POINTS and the 2nd/3rd difference being 2 TENTHS (aka 5.0 vs 0.2)

synchronized diving bros tm

the new womens gymnastics commentators who are focusing on the incredible skill of the athletes and their resilience and safety rather than a single flexed foot like in the past

aly raisman is there love

waiting for track events bc i just want to see hurdles and sha'carri richardson

womens rugby absolutely demolishing great britain

con't:

12. snoop memes 13. simone's response to reporters asking about hezly, simone's caption under the team gold win, simone's response to aly raisman asking what the team nickname is 14. stephen from penn state again for becoming an overnight national hero 15. the main woman on the rugby team (ilana?? not sure) whos fully an icon and a beast and knows it as she damn well should 16. my friends and coworkers tolerating my gymnastics infodumps

con't part 2:

17. SIMONE GETTING BLOCKED BY MYKAYLA LMFAO 18. continuation of stephen memes i love them keep it up 19. just saw that apparently martha stewart is joining snoop for equestrian events bc "he's afraid of horses" 20. ILONA MAHER MY ICON MY LOVE 21. tom daly's sweaters and children 22. simone biles' husband (no he will not have a name) sitting with her parents and keeping their scorecard. v wholesome 23. aly raisman asking the team what their name is and simone fully glitching on how to not say "fuck" at a press event

WAIT SAME DAY BUT I THOUGHT OF MORE

24. pregnant fencer winner, can u imagine growing up like "yeah i technically medaled at the olympics bc my mom had been growing me for SEVEN MONTHS already" that kid is gonna have incredible stories 25. simone and her biggest competitor Rebeca Andrade cheering each other on even tho they're both going to all around medals on different teams. they FUCKING GET IT that's girlhood 26. katie ledecky eating it up year after year

part three of the day:

27. the gymnast who's sponsored by cheese?? jealous 28. the swimmer whos obsessed with the muffins so true king chase your passions 29. i found my favorite meme, allow me to quote: "gay men thirsting over the lithe sun-kissed swimmers' bodies of Team Italia and lesbians thirsting over a woman in a backwards hat and severe bob doing shooting - this is what those people at Stonewall died for" with a gif of the pistol icon queen (do not know her name) (also this is obv dramatic, we know Stonewall is a deep and complex history, don't @ me) 30. a clip of synchronized divers from (i think) china and the commentators were talking about how they had to come up with a new term to describe their water entry and it was something along the lines of splash disappear magic or smth. crazy

I'm back and worse than ever 31. HAPPY SHA'CARRI RICHARDSON IS RUNNING DAY 32. Alice Bellandi, who i just found out about. LETS GO LESBIANS LETS GOOOOOOO 33. i just.. something about the olympics exposing how much progress there is to be made in the world. year after year. from women's rights to gay rights to trans rights to racism to sexism and on and on and on. some dumbos were like "yay international competition" and instead got lesbians celebrating their gold medals w their gfs and women sharing about how they had a therapy appt right before they competed. its kind of a beautiful testament to the validity and worldwide nature of these issues 34. simone sharing that she met w her therapist the morning of her all around gold win 35. once again SIMONE'S FAMILY AND THEIR SHIRTS IM CRYING 36. im kind of obsessed with seeing noticeable mistakes intermixed with perfection 37. PIN TRADING specifically the clip of ilona maher trading w simone

anotha one

38. Jade Carrey medaling on vault 39. Suni medaling on AA 40. stephen again. SLAY individual PH medalist!!!! one of my best friends texted me to make sure i'm also obsessed with him and i told her about my deepdive into his gf's NCAA career lol. PS stephen you should come visit ur alma mater because you genuinely seem like one of the coolest people ever and i wanna meet you. 41. shoutout to frederick richards (also men's usa gym) for tearing it up all the damn time. i think he posts a lot on social media and the men's all around gymnasts should be getting a whole bunch of hype 42. Sha'Carri Richardson. so beauty so grace. she didn't even look like she was trying for the last quarter of her 100m qual. 43. related: im obsessed with the purple track like hello???? iconic 44. video of the camera man for trampoline. just up down up down up down 45. honestly every new thing i find out about the shooting events (incl the post about america not medaling at all but phrased as a clear dig at our firearm policy) 46. how (and maybe this is just me) women are fully dominating the news cycle in terms of what i hear about the olympics. the only men i've heard about are stephen and the Dad energy guy shooting for turkey, everything else is THE GIRLS 47. katie ledecky holding so many consecutive spots on every event record list she's on

hello again

48. Snoop ACTUALLY with martha stewart and both of them in full esquestrine (??) fits 49. WOMEN HAVE WON THE V A S T MAJORITY OF USA INDIVIDUAL MEDALS YAAAAA 50. ilona maher still shes just. ugh. (as i write this i get a post w a pic of her and stephen captioned "asking a bisexual woman to explain her type" lmao) 51. KAYLIA (?) AKA ALGERIA'S FIRST GYMNASTICS MEDALIST 52. proposal 53. the mixed doubles couple in ?? badminton?? who broke up to focus on their sport then won together and got back together <3 love is real 57. not only the pregnant fencer but I also just saw about a pregnant shooter??? again these kids are gonna have top tier bragging rights. also women are sick as hell 58. maybe already said this but im not reading the last fifty seven entries to check so any of the women's gymnasts and their just proud af smiles when they hit an incredible stick. like the way they just stand there for a sec and slowly bring their arms down bc they previously accounted for an extra beat while landing. chefs kiss ugh 59. whoever the hell made stephen an american flag cape 60. omfg saw a post with a bunch of people talking about stephen and one of the connections was "so and so who is in the pommel horse specialist group chat" because a) that is a thing that exists??? im so delighted and b) what he was saying was that he usually logs on to see that stephen is playing some NERD ASS VIDEO GAME (i am not that direction of nerd so i dont remember which it was). obsessed 61. IMANE KHELIF. get angry yall. saw someone say "all it took was the other woman saying she had never taken a hit that hard. but girl ur in the hit people hard sport. at the most elite level." like ya. reading up on the "transvestigation" which is a term i just learned and genuinely needs to be cut tf out because the implication that ALL men will be and are biologically stronger than ALL women is absolute bs. 62. Noah Lyles: "America. I told you. I got this" so true king 63. the medal counter that added a ring category for the couple that got engaged lol very wholesome 64. jade carrey coming back to the olympics simply because she didn't perform up to her standards at Tokyo 65. omg the pic of simone touching up her lip liner SO iconic 66. oh the other name for the womens gymnastics team (other than fuck around and find out) being the golden girls because they're the oldest team to compete maybe ever? for usa 67. the owner of stephen's former (? current?) gym saying the phone has been ringing non stop with parents signing their sons up for classes 68. DID I ALREADY SAY LAURIE HERNANDEZ COMMENTATING + HER W ALY AGAIN??? 69. as the sixty ninth entry this feels appropriate. the paris pole vaulter who didn't win bc his dick caught the bar. 70. also sha'carri richardson's silver but also her in team USA and a ponytail... idk if i love or feel a Type of Way bc shes so known for her own style but also this feels super affirming that she's competing for team USA but not in a way thats something she needed, more like we needed. does this make sense

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

I think the point that tgcf tries to make with vol.6/book 4 isn't so much that people are inherently kind/aren't inherently cruel, as it is the fact that they can be driven towards cruelty as much as they can choose kindness.

What do i mean by this?

Spoilers under the cut

Im referring to the 100 swords incident to make my point because this scene (and others) shows us that people don't simply jump at the chance to be cruel.

In fact, at the beginning of the scene, right as White No Face revealed that the cure to Human Face Disease was murder and they could stab Xie Lian fatally and he wouldn't die, thus ensuring immunity, people were still reluctant to stab Xie Lian.

Why? Because it appeared unnecessarily cruel. There were voices in the crowd that said so openly, people debated amongst themselves whether this was right or even worth it. And it was not just the street performer that spoke up, but other nameless figures as well.

In fact, the first person stabbed Xie Lian only after the disease started to manifest in the temple - thus making the threat of contracting it real.

That was the moment when people realized choosing kindness (not stabbing Xie Lian) would cost them more (their lives, their children's lives, their families' etc) than cruelty would (stabbing Xie Lian). Not to mention, there was a lack of finality to their action - Xie Lian wouldn't die. So, it appears simple - they protect themselves from the deadly pandemic without bearing the weight of having taken a life.

A win-win, right?

So, why did they go savage with it so quickly if it was just out of necessity?

That's mob mentality, but also rationalization. At the beginning of the scene, the first few people that stab Xie Lian apologize. They explain to him why they had to do it and that they feel bad about it but they had no choice but to try to ensure their health/survival.

They explain themselves to both Xie Lian and their own consciousness, indirectly.

But the more people then stab Xie Lian, in increasingly cruel ways, for motives whether stated or not, the easier it becomes for the rest of people not to feel guilty for it and do it too.

Why? Because everyone else does it, because they don't want to get the disease, because he won't die anyway, because there is no alternative, because the disease is already here.

They rationalize it to the point that, despite the way Xie Lian visibly and audibly suffers, they don't care about it (to the point of being inconvenienced by his screams even). And that's because he becomes the object of their cruelty rather than the subject of it. They don't see or hear or care because they don't see him as a suffering being so much as a means to avoiding suffering for themselves.

Is this selfish? Yes. Is this cruel? Yes.

Is it justified? Hard to say.

(There is much to say about this scene and how it is so impactful because even though it is instinctual to be revolted with the violence and the mindlessness of the crowd, sympathizing with Xie Lian and his suffering, one cannot help but be faced with this visceral sense of horror - asking themselves whether, placed in the same situation, they would do the same or not.

How many of us would risk contracting a deadly disease if the cure was right in front of us like that, without having to carry the burden of their death, ensuring our survival and our loved ones' at a seemingly small price of injuring someone that's largely a stranger?

How many of us would choose to die like that street performer did?)

And i think that's the reason why, despite the immense suffering Xie Lian went through in that temple, to the point that he wanted so desperately to be able to die so that it would end, he still chose to give humanity a chance, to prove that people weren't only ever cruel.

Because what White No Face had managed to prove to him, as well as to us readers, isn't that human nature is cruel and selfish period, but that it can be driven to be cruel and selfish. The drought, the war, the Human Face Disease outbreak, the temple - all these were exceptional circumstances.

In normal circumstances, in day-to-day life when they aren't threatened or hurt, people choose kindness. Not right away, not always openly - but they do have the capacity to be kind and the consciousness to feel bad about how they didn't reach out to help although they wanted to.

When you're at your lowest, it is easy to see the world in black and white, to be blinded with the need for revenge or the desperation of survival. But on a regular day, though slow to action, people are at worst indifferent - at best, they are kind and remorseful.

What White No Face wasn't able to reconcile with was the fact that, faced with calamity, the reactions of cruelty and violence of humanity aren't its true face - but rather, it's worst face. And even not the only one. People are as capable of kindness as they are of cruelty.

And I think that's why Xie Lian didn't follow in his footsteps after all, because he was willing to see both.