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enviedear · 6 months

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A request throught for billy the kid.

He goes to a bar where a barmaid owns and works there, and they sleep together, and when he comes back, she has a little boy running around that looks a whole lot like him....

girl from the north country — billy bonney

request

i got this ask and my brain immediately went 'bob dylan rendition of girl from north country' because this trope has that song written all over it.

tw— allusions to the deed, hidden baby trope, use of, 'momma' as a pet name.

less than three years ago, you made the grave decision to bed an outlaw. he was sweet and soft with you, sweet talking his way into your britches. it had been a fun night, but despite your delighted evening, a sinking feeling took hold of you the minute he caught your eye.

his name was billy. or at least, he went by billy. he was a mess of dark brown hair, kind blue eyes, and honest nature. it felt like fate when you saw him. he had been sitting at the bar, quiet and lonesome. you found it easy to talk to him.

he had given you a bright smile, engaging you in casual conversation as the night turned to morning. slipping out with you when you closed down the bar, only to follow you up the road to your small homestead.

you had never seen him before, but after he left town, you soon learned exactly who he was. wanted posters with his likeness followed his trail, leaving you tight-lipped about the entire situation.

it was about six months after his visit that your lips finally began to move, coming up with fruitless excuses for the townspeople. by then, your stomach had already started to round, bulging into something plain and inescapable. at first, you were terrified and even considered fleeing to another town and opting to try and pass as a widow. even now, despite yourself, the thought lingers in the back of your mind.

you've been lucky though, the town is nice enough to not ask you questions. just watchful stares and a few upturned noses. you kept your job at the gin mill, working through the night while your married friend watched the baby.

you've found yourself a quiet life—a growing meadow of life hidden in the hellish and desolate west.

with a sigh, you turn your attention back to the clothesline, grabbing at the last of the dry garments and flinging them in your basket. there's a storm brewing close in the distance, and a loud crack of thunder has the small child at your feet fretting.

you pick up your fussy toddler, his pink lips curled into a frown, "c'mon bubba, s'just a little storm."

you glance at the darkening sky, feeling the first droplets of rain on your skin. the wind picks up, causing the clothesline to sway with a creak. cradling your son in your arms, you hurry inside, leaving the clothes in your haste of trying to beat the approaching storm.

inside the cozy warmth of your small homestead, you try to soothe the worried toddler in your arms. the distant rumble of thunder grows louder, and you decide it's best to stay cooped up, work be damned. as you settle into a rocking chair, softly humming a lullaby to the sweet boy in your arms, the rain begins to patter against the window.

the hours pass slowly, the storm raging outside, when a sudden knock on the door startles you. with caution, you approach and peer through the small window and see a tall figure drenched in rain, barely recognizable underneath his sopping hat.

you open the door, and the man looks up. his eyes are kind, and eerily familiar. looking like a drowned man, standing at your door, is billy. he looks apologetic and somewhat sheepish. rainwater drips from the brim of his hat as he mumbles, "m'sorry for showing up like this, i wasn't even sure if you were still here."

you eye him cautiously, memories of your night shared with him resurfacing, but the storm outside softens your resolve, "what brings you here, billy?" you inquire, staring up at the rain-soaked outlaw before you, taking in his genuine expression.

his voice trembles as he confesses that he never meant to stay away for so long— but life on the run has its cruel complications. now, drenched and shivering in the midst of a raging storm, he pleads for refuge in your home, desperation etched onto every word as he begs for forgiveness and a safe haven from his pursuers.

hesitating for a moment, you look back at your toddler playing on the floor. with a sigh, you relent, "alright, billy, you can come in, but just until the storm passes."

as he steps inside, you notice the surprise in his eyes when he sees the boy. he's donned in a darling little linen onesie, your own hands had worked tirelessly over the garment. his bright eyes look between you and billy, the hue of your own eyes evident and the blue of billy's scattered throughout. a perfect blend.

a silence hangs in the air as realization slowly dawns on him. his gaze shifts between you and your little one, and in that moment, he connects the dots.

his voice softens, "is he... is he mine?"

the question sends a shiver down your spine and all of your carefully constructed defenses slowly crumble around you. there's no denying it now, the truth of what had happened was laid bare for both of you to see, innocent face staring up at the both of you. you stand in place, your feet rooted to the ground. you can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you realize the confession you're about to make. taking a deep breath, you finally relent.

a nod is all you can manage, the weight of the unspoken truth lingering in the room. billy takes a step closer to the little boy and you start. but his intentions are gentle as he reaches out to touch the top of his child's head, "i never knew." he murmurs, a mix of regret and wonder in his eyes.

you watch as billy kneels down to meet your son at eye level. the child looks up at him with innocent curiosity, and you can't help but feel a twinge of anger mixed in with the guilt that had been festering inside of you for so long. you had carried the weight of this secret for years, the fear of the townsfolk finding out and ostracizing you and your child from the community. but looking down at billy's face, you know that it's time to come clean.

"he's almost three now, billy," you say softly, the regret in your own voice almost palpable, "i didn't know how to find you...i didn't even know your name back then."

billy's expression softens as he turns to look at you, his eyes full of sorrow, "i understand," he says, his voice gentle. "m'sorry i wasn't there for you. for both o'you."

you nod, knowing his words are earnest, "you couldn't have known." you say quietly.

billy stands up and walks towards you, his arms open. his eyes are sad, but they hold a fierce longing that you can feel despite any attempt to deny it. his body radiates with a warmth that you can't help but feel drawn to, despite all of the fear and regret that fills your heart. you close your eyes, allowing yourself to be enveloped by his embrace, feeling his arms wrap around your body and pull you close.

"i'm sorry," he whispers into your ear. "god, m'so sorry for everything."

you nod, unable to find your voice. the storm outside rages on, but inside, the atmosphere is one of acceptance and forgiveness. you have both been through so much, but now, with the truth out in the open, it feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. you look up into billy's eyes, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.

"i forgave you a long time ago," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "figure i can't keep hiding this little one away from his father. not now, wouldn't be right."

billy nods, his eyes now filled with hope, "i want to be a part of his life, if you'll let me," he says, his voice filled with a conviction that sends shivers down your spine.

you nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes, "of course," you say, your voice filled with a mixture of relief and sadness. "he deserves to have his daddy."

billy smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, cupping your cheeks, "what about his momma? seems like she's been gettin' on fine without a man around."

you hum, trying to ignore how easy your heart skips for him, "i reckon she'll make him grovel 'fore she'll be his sweetheart again."

your outlaw lets out a soft chuckle, "then i best get to grovelin', momma."

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

#—askolivia !#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #billy bonney #billy bonney x reader #tom blyth!billy the kid #tom blyth #billy the kid 2022 #coriolanus x reader

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marthawrites · 11 months

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Only A Scratch

Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 3.4k+

About: Aemond requests you, a healer who has tended to his wounds before, to accompany him on a trip to Duskendale.

Includes: One bed trope! A more balanced mix of plot and porn featuring elements of mean!Aemond, injury, dick sucking, cockslapping, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, and mentions of fem receiving oral sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This story is based on a request from @babyaemond with the quote of "you know what your problem is?" with our favorite one-eyed war criminal. Thank you, Chris ily! 💖 I had an absolute blast writing this and I hope you like it too! As always, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

The realm might not believe it, perhaps not even the occupants and workers of the Red Keep would believe it, but, Aemond Targaryen was a momma's boy. He loved and respected his mother more than anyone else in all the kingdoms. With her nameday coming up, Aemond wanted to get her something extra special.

One afternoon while visiting Helaena during her embroidery time – little niece and nephews playing with him in the middle of the floor – he brought the idea up to his sister.

"I think that a lovely idea, Aemond. You fetching Duskendale's greatest painter? Mother will hang the portrait somewhere everyone can see," Helaena replied with bright eyes. "And they have those mollusks who produce the most dazzling pearls. You can't go all that way and not get her jewelry!"

Aemond smiled. Helaena and her children were the rare people to draw genuine emotion from the prince. "I will pick something in your honor. Your gift to mother."

"And Aegon?" She asked.

"Aegon won't get any credit for these gifts. He wouldn't even be able to keep the secret, much less add to the surprise."

The princess giggled; unguarded in the company of her family.

To say receiving the dragon prince's offer was a surprise would be a vast understatement. He wanted you to go along on this trip with him? Out of all the healers and maesters? Even if you wanted to, you could not tell him no. Bewilderment buzzed around you as you rode out of King's Landing on horseback with him, Ser Arryk, and Ser Erryk.

It wouldn't be a long trip. Perhaps a week, there and back, with some leisure time to enjoy the city when you arrived.

The twins were a skilled and respectful pair. You felt safe with them. You wondered, mind idly wandering as the twins led the way out of King's Landing, if you were Aemond's first pick for an accompanying medic. Fog rolled up from the sea and blanketed everything with a haunting gray. If it weren't for golden ways of sun piercing through clouds and fog like javelins it would be considerably creepy. Rays brought out your natural coloring, and when you turned to look across your shoulder to prince Aemond he looked wholly regal: silver hair shimmering, riding garb decorated with his House's sigil (as if anyone would need reminded who he was), breath hanging in the chilly morning air like he truly breathed smoke.

He felt you looking at him. "I don't need two eyes to see you staring so hard, girl," he said, turning the full attention of his single eye to you. Lilac. It nearly glowed in the foggy subdued brightness.

"Apologies, your Grace," you said with a guilty little grin. "The last time I saw you I was bandaging your newly stitched thigh. A much different sight than what I have of you now. You clean up well," you said, tiny smirk not leaving the outermost corners of your mouth. "Nasty cut it was… how did it heal?"

His face remained skillfully blank. There could have been a dozen emotions hidden behind that perfected poise; from his posture to the way he held the natural shape of his bowed mouth, he didn't allow you a glimpse into how your words affected him. "It healed well."

"I'm pleased to know I made such an impression that you'd request me to join you on this journey. An honor, truly, my prince," you said with quiet pride.

"There are two women in court who are heavy with babes. Both will be making their entrance into the world and day now. None of the maesters would risk leaving them," he replied with an edge of curtness, words clipped and even. "It was only then I considered you."

Ouch. "Oh," you said, a little taken back. "Well, I still stand by what I said," you added, trying your best to deflect the sting his words gave you.

"Hm," he hummed, smug. It was his turn to smirk, now.

The rest of that first day’s ride went relatively smooth and uneventful. That is, until Aemond got bucked off his horse. It was a miracle you were able to stay on yours! The twins’ horses, while still terribly frightened, appeared to be of a more mellow mind for they were able to be soothed while Arryk scouted ahead to see what might have caused the fright. You dared not leave yours during the ordeal in case you needed to get a galloping headstart. Tension hung in the air until Arryk came back. “A black bear is perhaps a quarter mile away,” he said upon arriving. “I didn’t see any cubs and the beast seemed unbothered by me. It was gorging on berries. Are you alright, my prince?”

Luckily Aemond was able to break his fall. Unfortunately it came at the cost of landing on his forearm upon a ridiculously sharp rock. A jagged cut ripped through his riding gear and into his leanly muscled flesh. You had helped wrap it with a clean linen bandage for now, but crimson bloomed beneath the binding. He would likely need stitches once all of you were settled into an inn for the night. “‘Tis only a scratch. Let’s get to the next town before nightfall, yeah?”

Arryk stole a glance with you, and then his brother, and you once more before nodding to Aemond. "A scratch," his eyes had silently said to you; a flash of sarcasm gone quicker than a blink.

The next town on the road to Duskendale was small and hardly worth mentioning on a map. Climbing roses in full bloom covered the inn's facade making it quaint and homely alike; their heady aroma lingered heavily and you wished you could bottle the fragrance. Echos of the scent followed you inside and mingled with savory foodsmells of dinner.

"'Fraid we're about full t'night. I hope you all don't want separate rooms," a middle-aged man with wild eyebrows said from behind the bar. He leaned on it as he looked all of you over. "Ain't seen one of you Targaryens around in awhile. Pleasure ta have you, Prince Aemond. Now, what can I do for you lot?"

"Three rooms and dinner for everyone. That's all," Aemond replied as he produced payment for the innkeep.

Turning, the man inspected what keys were left. "Hmm… I have only two rooms available." Pulling the keys from their hooks he handed them over. "One bed in each of 'em."

Yet another tense silence fell over the group. The unmistakable tingle of a blush rushed to your face. Shit shit shit.

"We need three. Surely you can kick someone out for the night," Aemond said a bit too sharply, fingers reaching for another few coins to bribe the man.

"Ha!" He guffawed. "No can do. Prince or no, I have a good reputation and I don't intend on breakin' it."

The twins shared an amused glance and you wanted to die.

"Fine," Aemond said as he took the keys and tossed one set to Arryk and Erryk. "See you at first light to break fast before leaving."

You followed Aemond into the room you'd be sharing for the night. One bed. You hoped it was a big one.

Once inside, any hope of surviving the night with all your sanity and wit vanished in an instant. The bed was tiny. And, as if things could get any worse, there was only one pillow and blanket. Surely Prince Aemond Targaryen never considered this happening.

Tension crackled between you two and you wanted to jump out the equally tiny window and run all the way back to King’s Landing. "At… at least neither of us will be cold in the middle of the night?" You half-stammered, trying, feebly, to break the silence.

"You better not snore, girl." He flashed you an icy glare but the smirk of his mouth spoke to something else. Amusement? A challenge? "I'm going to bathe."

While he was gone you were left to stew on the current predicament. Ever since you first laid eyes on the young prince he never left your brain. To you, he was unbearably dashing and roguishly handsome. He was cold, cruel (according to rumors), and smug in a way that made you want to strangle him and drown him in kisses alike. Over the last year or so you'd helped tend to his wounds a few different times, and each time you left with more butterflies in your belly than before. They said his kin were closer to Gods than men, and you believed it.

After hardly eating during the day you were half-starved. You ate your dinner while he was still gone, and left for the women's side of the bathing quarter before he returned. In your experience not all inn's had the space for a proper bath – you weren’t going to pass this up.

Upon returning – clean, refreshed, and still warm from the bath – you saw Aemond laying on the bed in his nightclothes with his uninjured arm tucked behind his head. It was stupid – absolutely fucking stupid – how handsome he looked in such a regular position. He was all long, and lean, and sharp angles. You wondered if he housed any softness within himself. He'd got a fire going in the small mantle and it crackled peacefully. Light and shadows accentuated the natural lines of his chiseled face, eyepatch practically orange in the glow. After a moment of awkwardly fumbling with your damp hair, you asked, "how's your arm?"

"'Twas only a scratch. I'm fine," he answered, making no move to shift his position to make more room for you on the bed.

"You're lying. It bled through your bandage on the way here," you retorted, squinting at him suspiciously.

He sighed. "And now it's done bleeding."

Turning, you double checked the latch on the door. Sure of the lock you turned back to Aemond. "Can I at least see it?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Are you deaf, or daft?"

It was your turn to glare at him. "You know, I never truly believed the rumors of you being cruel." You threw a cloth you’d used to help dry your hair onto the table as you stepped, firmly and deliberately, across the small room to the bed. "But now I believe it. You know what your problem is? You are rude." Without allowing yourself to process what you were doing – and not giving him a moment to, either – you were straddling over his lap. Demanding. Determination hardened your features. "Let me see it."

Aemond tensed beneath you and the pupil of his eye swelled. He wasn't expecting this. His jaw feathered as the hand behind his head immediately lunged forward to grab your throat. Squeezing gently, warningly, he smirked. "And you know what your problem is? You are an insolent brat." Your eyes softened to those of a doe and it sent his cock twitching beneath your thinly covered center. "Mayhap you forget who you are speaking to, girl."

Breath shuddered from your lungs. You felt him beneath you and it instantly sent fire rolling through your belly. Desire. Lust. So easily he turned your irritation to something else entirely. "I only want to check on it," you said against his careful grasp, trying your best to appear innocent.

He laughed. "Climbing on my lap like this I think you want something else. Tell me… what more does this bratty little mouth do?" With his question he slowly released his hold from your throat, thumb trailing across the softness of your bottom lip. The darkness of his eye glinted when he heard a faint whimper tickle up through your chest. "You'll have to be louder than that…"

Without having to be told you grazed your tongue along his curious thumb, pulse hammering behind your ribs and between your legs alike. Could he feel how hot you were? Boldness coursed through your blood. "Your Grace…," you simpered, looking at him with dazed eyes. "I've wanted you for so long." You dared to nip the tip of his thumb, gently rolling your tongue beneath it. He tasted clean with hints of wood and smoke from stoking the fire. It made you ache.

"I've other things that need tending to, now. Perhaps if you play by my rules I'll play by yours," he proclaimed, pushing his digit further into your mouth. He hissed quietly with the sensation. Greed and need simmered in his chest, threatening to boil over. You weren’t even doing anything and yet you still drove him near wild.

Your hands spread across his chest. “Those are fair terms,” you said with a playful tilt of your head. Your eyes roamed over his throat and what was exposed of his collarbone. Sleek, pale, warm. He was so warm. How could he be when it was so chilly? You unlaced the lazily tied strings of his cotton sleep shirt, fingernails gently scratching down his front. You smiled when he hissed another inward breath. Beneath you, he neared full hardness. “Needy prince…,” you crooned, sliding from his lap as elegantly as you could so you were laying between his legs. You stroked along his cock through his cotton sleep pants, teasing. “Perhaps Targarenys are closer to men than Gods after all.”

"I like you better with something in your mouth," he said, tutting, as he shifted his legs a bit to give you more room. Now he moved, you thought, how generous of him.

Vibrating with your own need and impatience, you unlaced the front of his pants and tugged them down just enough for his cock to spring free. You gasped, satisfied. "So big, your Grace." He had a lovely cock. Truly. It was hot and solid in your hand when you stroked it, head blushed and swollen without you even having to tug downwards on his length.

You'd be lying if you didn't secretly hope something like this would happen with the tension of sharing a bed and room. But this? You licked up the underside of his shaft, wrapping your lips around his tip, sucking, and moaned at the sensation and taste.

Aemond groaned. "Is this what all you little medics do, hm? Tend to broken men before swallowing their cock?" He taunted, glaring at you triumphantly, mouth parted in silent bliss.

Instead of answering him verbally, you took more of his length into your wanting mouth. Flattening your tongue against him allowed you to hollow your cheeks. You looked up at him all the while, basking in the way his features changed; the way he somehow tensed and relaxed at the same time. You dragged your mouth up until only his sensitive head was wrapped by your lips, then down, lower, and up again.

"Fuck…," he groaned, eye rolling closed. One hand gripped into the thin faded sheets while his other moved to your damp hair. He threaded his fingers through it, gripping, tugging, just slight.

Your eyelids trembled as a needy whine broke free from your lips. He popped free from your mouth with the noise. You chased his cockhead; wanton. Saliva built in your mouth and the sounds of you lavishing his cock were borderline obscene. You willingly choked on him; you throbbed as you squeezed your thighs together.

He grinned when you came up for air. His hand unfurled from the bedclothes and moved to the base of his length. He gripped himself and held your head still by your hair, expression widening with smug pride. He smacked his cock against the side of your face, traces of your saliva shiny on your skin. "Who knew my favorite little healer was such a whore, too," he purred. A second and third series of smacks followed.

Bolts of lust jolted right to your core. You clenched around nothing; arousal gushing from you like syrup. "Aemond…," you gasped, vision hazy. "Please," you begged, unsure what you were truly begging for.

Him. Just him. Whatever he would give you.

"Such a pretty sound from your lips," he said, darkly and adoringly, as he delivered a final slap of his cock to the silky skin of your mouth. He leaned forward and grabbed you by the sides of your arms, pulling you up so you were nearly nose to nose. Without even looking he raked the hems of your sleep gown up while simultaneously yanking your smallclothes down. His fingers slid up your folds, testing your arousal. What he felt sent the entirety of his manhood aching.

He had to be inside you. Now.

"This little cunny is soaking. I don't even have to prepare you," he growled, shoving a long finger up into you without hesitation.

You might have peaked from that alone if he'd kept his digit inside you. If he pumped it. If he added a second. But, no, the prince did neither. When he pulled it from you he instantly brought it to his mouth and smeared your slick across his tongue. He smirked and you were sure you'd never been so desperate in your life.

Once again he gripped the sides of your arms and pushed you down into the old used mattress. He maneuvered behind you with ease. True to his word he didn't have to prepare you so he didn't. The young dragon prince guided himself right to your dripping center and eased forward.

You arched deeper beneath him, supporting yourself on your knees while propping your ass up as much as you could. The stretch your body yielded to his sizable intrusion was glorious. You moaned, barely able to bite it back as he buried all of his rigid inches into your core. When he pulled back to snap his hips into you, you cried out his name.

"Be a good girl and shut up. Unless you want everyone in this inn to know what's going on in here," he said huskily behind you, the tremble in his voice betraying his outwardly restraint.

You tried to be quiet. You really did. But his hand holding the hair at the nape of your neck, and the lewd slaps of your smacking skin, and the pant of his breaths, had you wild with bliss and excitement. "So good… fuck! Aemond…! S-so good," you whimpered, body becoming lighter by the second.

The half babbled praises from your pretty mouth had the prince soaring. He gripped harshly onto one of your hips while the fingers of the other snaked beneath your pelvis to work your clit. "Wanna eat this pretty cunt 'til you're crying, too. Will you let me?"

"Please! Yes, yes, yes please," you answered as if in prayer.

His pace quickened, the angle of his strokes hitting you deep and hard, cockhead dragging and battering against that wonderful patch of nerves inside your walls. Leaning forward, his silken hair tickled your back. He bit into your shoulder, harshly drawing your flesh between his teeth so he could mark you.

You squirmed beneath him. Gasping, you basked in the sharp sensation of his teeth. It was the final thing you needed to lose yourself to the euphoria.

"Give it to me," Aemond growled in your ear. "Give your Prince your pleasure. Squeeze my cock like the little whore you are."

You did.

He fucked you through it, chasing his own high all the while. When you became too loud he turned your face into the mattress to muffle your noises. It helped. It also made all those sounds all the sweeter. For Aemond, it was the final thing he needed to lose himself as well. With a groan from deep within his chest, he pulled out of you at the last second and released his spend all over your back. It shone upon your skin. He couldn't help but admire it and he had half a mind to make you sleep with it on your back; marking you with his teeth and scent alike.

Slowly, you both came down from the natural high of orgasm. That cloth you brought in earlier was put to good use.

"I don't mind that the bed is so small, now," you said as you both got comfortable beneath the blanket. Laying on your sides seemed the best way; him, the big spoon.

"Me either," he replied, a grin audible in his voice.

You found yourself no longer caring about the state of his arm. Not with the way it laid over your waist and rested up between your breasts. He held you against him.

Sleep came easy.

When you woke up to Aemond's morning-stiff cock against your back you knew you had to find a reason to share a room with him for every night of the journey.

He would make it happen, he told himself, as he drew a lovely climax from you with his mouth before burying himself into you once again. All, before dawn cracked over the horizon.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

Masterlist

To be added or removed from the taglist, please let me know!

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @targaryenbrainrot @ruby-dragon @bloodwyrmcaraxes @chompchompluke @fan-goddess

Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @sahvlren @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @babyaemond @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @okfashionista @avidreader73

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond imagine #request

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starlitmark · 1 year

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Summary: You’re beyond excited to have your second baby… until… Pairing: San x fem!reader Trope: married life au, parent au, non-idol au Genre: angst, fluff Rating: PG Warnings: stillbirth, high-risk pregnancy (placental rupture), hurt… a lot of hurt, hospitals, implications of surgery, mentions of childbirth Word Count: 3,034 Note: for the Meet Me Under the Cherry Tree event by @cultofdionysusnet Note 2: THE ENDING IS HAPPY I WON’T TORTURE YALL LIKE THAT!!! ( @songmingisthighs made me do it)

Listen to: married life from Up || Next Right Thing from Frozen 2

When you first moved to this property with your husband, you knew it would be where you wanted to be for the rest of your life. There’s a rather sizable backyard. A large weeping cherry tree sits atop a small hill off to the right corner of the yard. The dilapidated wooden fence adds to the homey feel of the whole place.

You sat under that blossoming cherry tree when you told San you were pregnant for the first time. He was so excited he tackled you to the ground and nearly sent you rolling down the hill. He, of course, checked that you were okay and he didn’t hurt you. Your pregnancy with Hyunwoo was so smooth. Not a single thing went off course with your health or his. Through summer and fall, until the weather turned cold and the bite of winter came, you sat under that same tree, fantasized, and imagined your future there with your husband.

December rolled around, and you were still happy despite the exhaustion your later pregnancy months caused. Then, finally, the day came, and you and San both were panicked, unsure of how ready you were to be parents. But, of course, the moment you laid eyes on your son, nothing else mattered. You know what your parents mean when they say you grew up too fast. Watching Hyunwoo grow right in front of your eyes made you so proud of him, yet you also worried about him simultaneously.

“Pic- pick-un-ic, momma?”

You chuckle, “It’s picnic, baby, but I’m ready! Why don’t you go get Daddy.”

You pack the basket and grab the blanket to be taken outside. You hear your one-year-old stomping through the home, followed by squealing giggles and your husband’s teasing voice. Placing a hand on your belly, you smile. San came down the hall with a giggling Hyunwoo tossed over his shoulder. He places a soft kiss against your cheek before opening the back door. You step outside and make your way right to that same blossoming tree. Hyunwoo doesn’t stay in San’s arms for very long. Finally, the toddler is off, running up the hill before collapsing on his back.

You follow shortly after and lean down, tickling the boy before picking him up and brushing the fallen petals off his clothes. San has always been the one to set things up since you typically prepped the food. You’re still baffled you managed to get Hyunwoo to eat a whole plate before he’s off and to roll down the hill for fun. You reach into the basket, intending to grab a napkin, though you know your husband. You know he’ll ask for one as well.

“Could I have one too? I have cherry juice all over my fingers.” he chuckles.

You hand him the napkin. San’s eyebrows furrow together, feeling something hard wrapped inside the paper. Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Then, in hopes of calming yourself, you start to watch Hyunwoo. He’s giggling and standing up. He wobbles a few times from dizziness but eventually walks back up the hill. As he does so, a breeze comes through, and the weeping branches swing gently around him. The tree had just started growing its blossoms, with slight hints of pink and white hardly peeking off the dark wood. You wish you could print memories when moments like this happen. Your little boy looks like an angel with the petals falling on him. His smile is so bright, and you can’t imagine a more beautiful sight.

“Sweetheart.” you hear San call, “Is this real? Are you really-”

“I am,” you smile, “Hyunwoo’s going to be a big brother.”

Everything feels normal and happy, just like it did with Hyunwoo. Your son is over the moon excited to meet his sister. It’s not until one of your routine checks that your doctor notices something off. There’s nothing critically concerning, but they still ask you to visit bi-weekly rather than monthly, just in case. The thought that your baby isn’t perfectly healthy worries you.

That night after Hyunwoo is peacefully sleeping, you let San know. You tell him it’s nothing especially concerning but that you want him to keep an extra pair of eyes out for anything that seems off externally from his perspective. As always, he’s extremely understanding and ready to do anything to help you.

A few weeks later, Yunho came over with his wife and son, Jinsik. The two toddlers have been close since they could comprehend human interaction. Of course, your son requested your weekly picnic to be moved to today, and you had no issue with that. Both boys barrel out the door, ready to make petal angels out of the fallen pink blossoms. You’re the last to exit the door, and you pull it shut behind you. San is walking ahead with Yunho chatting about who knows what. Yunho’s wife follows just ahead of you with the large picnic blanket.

Something feels a little off, though. You pause for a moment. San seems to sense it; he turns around and calls your name. You don’t even get a chance to make eye contact with him. You wince, dropping the basket. You double over in pain and fall to the ground shortly after the basket, holding your swollen belly right where the pain emanates. It’s a flurry around you. You know that Yunho has Hyunwoo and that your son is safe. San speeds his way to the hospital, holding your hand the whole way. You can’t remember much past when San tells you that everything will be okay.

When you wake up, you’re in a hospital bed, and your belly is far less swollen than it was a short while ago. You try to move but whimper in pain. San startles awake and squeezes your hand; he’s been crying. His eyes are brimmed with red and look glassy. Something isn’t right. You don’t say anything. Neither does San. He just holds your hand tightly and sniffles. The silence consumes you.

“H-Hyunwoo is spending the night with Yun.” his voice comes out cracking and meek.

“Where’s our daughter?” you ask, dreading the answer.

“She-” he takes a deep breath, “She was beautiful.”

“Was? San, what’s happening? Please tell me.”

“She didn’t make it. The doctor said the placenta detached from you, and she lost too much oxygen and blood before they could get you into the surgery, let alone get her out of you.”

You don’t know how to react. You go limp in his hold. You hear him sniffle back tears again. Tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you can only focus on the fact that you can’t do anything to save your baby. You wouldn’t have been able to save her if you could. You were only at the 20 weeks. Just hit the 4-month mark. She wouldn’t be able to survive without the weight and strength the rest of the pregnancy would provide.

“They asked me to name her so they could- so they-” he lets out another shaky breath, “so they could fill out the death certificate.”

“What did you tell them?” you deadpan.

“Hyunjoo, just like we agreed on.”

You just nod

The following months are brutal. You try your best to be the mom that Hyunwoo deserves. It’s so tough, though. Dealing with post-partum and grieving your daughter’s loss before you could even meet her makes everything seem impossible. More often than not, you find yourself sitting under the cherry tree silently by yourself. Yet, San has been so supportive throughout the entire situation. You know he’s grieving, too, but he never uses that to make you feel any less or frame things differently. Instead, he lets you feel what you feel. Let’s you cry endlessly on him. All while dealing with the grief in his way.

You don’t feel that you get your life back until Hyunwoo’s second birthday. He’s made leaps and bounds in his growth since the spring. He’s speaking complete sentences and starting to recognize different letters, shapes, and colors without assistance from you or San. The day starts a little shaky. You were on the verge of a breakdown when you held Yujun while Yeosang.

San was hyperaware of how you were feeling throughout the day. Several of your mutual friends had babies this year. Mingi had his second, Seeun, in August. You didn’t attend the baby shower or the get-together after his birth. They respected your choice, knowing it was all still challenging for you. Then, in October, Wooyoung had Hunter, and Yeosang had Yujun on the same day. The thought made you chuckle, but still, you were hurting a bit. You hardly made it through the visit to meet the two babies that day. They’ve all been extremely understanding and patient with your grieving process. They’ve mentioned that they could never imagine being in your position and that you could take as much time as you needed.

“Do you want me to take him?”

You shake your head, “I kinda miss this phase. I’ll hold him a bit longer.”

“Mind if I join you then?”

“Not at all.” you smile.

From then, you felt your life slowly rebuilding itself around you. Hyunwoo was even happier and bouncier than before. You and San fall back into a rhythm with each other and with your own personal endeavors. You hardly process the thought that you may get pregnant again. It crosses your mind once in a blue moon, and when it does, it fills your stomach with anxiety. You didn’t mention this worry to San, not explicitly, at least. Hyunwoo would ask on occasion where Hyunjoo went, and it breaks your heart a little, but he’s too young to understand otherwise. Winter turns to Spring, and slowly Summer starts to invade. That’s when reality had a different plan for you than you wanted.

“Hey, could you watch Hyunwoo for a bit?”

“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Seonghwa asks over the phone with a very concerned tone.

“Yeah, yeah, I just want to talk with San without Hyunwoo around. I know he hears more than we want him to sometimes.” you chuckle airily.

“I’ll be over with Junmin in about fifteen. Is that okay?”

“Perfect.” you reassure.

Just as promised, Seonghwa and Junmin are there in fifteen minutes. Hyunwoo couldn’t care less that he was leaving. He was getting to go to his friend’s house and play. After a few quick goodbyes, the boys are contently buckled into their car seats.

“I know something’s up with you.” Seonghwa states after the car door is securely shut, “You don’t have to tell me. I know you’re about to tell San whatever it is. But you have us to lean on, too, okay?”

You nod, “Okay, thank you again, Seonghwa.”

When you walk back inside, San’s already waiting by the backdoor. Sometimes it’s crazy how well your husband knows you when you want to tell him something important or have a heart-to-heart with him. You sit under that cherry tree. That tree has heard many things of your lives together, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Now it’s about to hear one new thing. You interlock your hand with his and go up that small hill again. You know he’s worried about you. You are worried. A million and one things are swirling around your mind right now. Now, you’re seated with your back against the tree, tucked under San’s arm.

“So,” he sighs, “what life-changing thing are you going to tell me this time?” he teases.

“I’m pregnant again.”

“When did you find out?”

“Last week,” you admit, “I had to come to terms with it on my own first. How do you feel about it?”

He shakes his head, “This isn’t about me. You’re the one carrying the baby. How are you feeling about it?” he asks softly, wrapping his arm around you tighter.

“Scared, in all honesty. What if-” you stop yourself.

“Are you worried this baby will have the same complications as Hyunjoo?” you nod, and he wraps you fully in a hug, “Listen to me, sweetheart. You are strong, so fucking strong. We had to part ways with our daughter far too early, but that doesn’t mean this baby is guaranteed to be that way too. Honestly, I’m a bit worried too. I think it’s only natural after what happened. But I’m right by your side every step of the way. I know life was hell for us last year, but guess what? There’s always sun after the storm.”

“I love you.” you sniffle. You hadn’t even noticed you were crying.

“I love you too.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon sitting under the tree, talking about everything with him, just like when you told him about Hyunwoo and when you told him about Hyunjoo. That lingering fear sits in your belly still, but it slowly dissolves into hope for what could be.

Of course, after your last pregnancy, your doctor has you come in for bi-weekly visits from the beginning. Luckily, this baby is completely healthy. This baby is following the trends that Hyunwoo had rather than your daughter. She’s also a girl. You can’t tell if it’s a twisted joke or a blessing from some higher power. One night, you express your worries to San, lying in bed this time. Hyunwoo is fast asleep in his bed, and the baby in your belly is sleeping too. You tell him the lingering thoughts that this daughter may also pass away before birth simply based on your previous experience.

You half expect San to call you crazy. He doesn’t, though. Instead, he leans on his forearm and presses a kiss to your forehead, then leans down and presses a kiss to your baby bump. He tells you that he understands your worry and that you shouldn’t let those negative thoughts consume you even though you are scared. You know he’s right.

You roll through months of your pregnancy, and she’s still healthy, and you are too. Again, Hyunwoo is about to explode with excitement to meet his baby sister. He sat with you as you thought up name options for her. Hyunwoo insisted that she should be named Pumpkin, and neither you nor San had the heart to tell him no. He’s fully convinced she’ll be named Pumpkin now.

By the time Hyunwoo’s third birthday comes around, you’re in your third trimester and entirely over being pregnant again. As much as you’re happy that she’s healthy, she also wiggles like a menace more often than not. She’s recently made a habit of rubbing her foot into your ribs to try to get comfortable. San’s teased you many times for hitting your belly lightly to get her to stop, to no avail. Hyunwoo is somewhat up set his sister didn’t come early as a birthday present for him. If that were the case, though, they would’ve hated having the same birthday when they got older.

In January, Jongho announces that his girlfriend is pregnant. Finally, after years of being the designated babysitter, he could stop doing that and have one of his own. Many of your friends insist he’s pranking them, unwilling to believe their youngest friend was also about to be a dad. It was very real, though. His girlfriend had that glow that all the others had, and you’re sure you have it now too.

It’s the middle of a February snowstorm when you go into labor. Your daughter’s timing is impeccable. Luckily, Jongho wasn’t entirely ripped to shreds by his raging pregnant girlfriend (she was livid that he ate her crackers) and happily took Hyunwoo while San carefully but quickly navigated his way to the hospital. Your heart is pounding, and you’re terrified. Not to have her, but that she would be unhealthy somehow. You’ve been reassured by your husband and, more importantly, your doctor on countless occasions that she’s healthy. Still, the fear is at the forefront of your mind.

You make it there despite the storm and the fear lingering in your mind, and the delivery goes smoothly. Her delivery was actually shorter than Hyunwoo’s by a long shot too. After being cleaned up and you’re given the birth aftercare, your daughter is happily resting on your chest, sleeping after nursing for the first time. They keep you overnight for recovery and observation, just in case. You’re discharged the following day. Your daughter is safely in her carrier. You choose to sit in the back seat with her, keeping a watchful eye on your newborn.

“When will momma and daddy be home?” you hear Hyunwoo on the other side of the door.

“They’ll be home soon, bud. Just wait for a little-” you hear Jongho start to reason with him.

San swings the door open, “We’re right here, baby.” you say sweetly.

Hyunwoo comes barreling toward him and latches onto his leg. The three-year-old immediately peers into the carrier and sees his sister sleeping peacefully. You watch how his eyes light up with stars looking at her.

“That’s Pumpkin?” he asks dreamily.

“Do you want to meet your sister officially?” San asks.

He nods and runs back to sit on the couch. Jongho is seated beside him with a soft smile growing on his lips. You bring the carrier over and carefully take her out of the seat. You sit beside your toddler and let him see her properly. Hyunwoo slides closer and reaches out his finger to touch her tiny hands. San is watching the interaction; you’ve never seen him so in love with anything before.

“What did you name her?” Jongho asks.

“Soohyun.” you reply softly, keeping your eyes on your two children.

“Her name is Pumpkin!” Hyunwoo exclaims.

“Sorry, Hyunnie,” San chuckles, “Momma and I call her that, but you can keep calling her Pumpkin if you’d like to.”

“Her name is Pumpkin.” he pouts.

You became stronger throughout life’s trials in the past few years. And just as San told you, under that cherry tree, there’s always sun after a storm. This storm gave you a rainbow after, and her name is Soohyun.

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List strikethrough = unable to tag: @jaehunnyy @roseforseonghwa @spiderrenjunfics @umbralhelwolf @ericssmile @honeyhuii @tarutarumilk

#san x reader #MeetMeAtTheCherryTree23 #cultofdionysusnet #kwritersworldnet #kvanity #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez fluff #san fanfic #san fluff #san angst

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sunshinejinx · 7 months

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i finished watching buffy for the first time this week and it’s been a wild ride but something i feel genuinely surprised about is this idea that ppl have where spike falls into the dark, brooding, bad guy turned good trope. comparing him to the likes of draco, kylo ren, etc. it makes me rlly???? bc am i delusional? from season 2 onwards, spike always felt very funny to me; silly, goofy, light hearted. i mean he has a whole backstory about being a momma’s boy/terrible poet. effulgent!!! blooming onion lover?? a loser and malewife first for dru and later for buffy. even peak “evil” spike doesn’t want to go along w dru/angelus’ plan bc he likes this world too much!! n that’s long before he even has a soul! has moments where he can barely look buffy in the eye, gets tongue tied, “why haven’t you killed the slayer yet” good question adam!! maybe bc he loves the slayer!! get’s chained to a tub and let’s buffy feed him blood out of a ‘kiss the librarian’ mug. “great pumpkin’s on in 20” & can’t forget about passions!! asking joyce for the lil marshmallows for his hot cocoa while he tells her all about how dru broke his fragile little heart 😭 and and when he gets turned into a vampire so of course immediately his first thought is to travel the world w his lover + can’t forget about his mommy like !!! hello!!! are we watching the same show like he’s just a freaky little loser who luvs a girl bc duh who tf wouldn’t love buffy, she’s literally everything and he knows it too!

#im not trying to baby girl-ify him or w/e #or absolve him of all the bad he’s done #(which i think makes him an intriguing character - how he’s big and bad and dangerous and morally grey!!)#morally grey characters / nuanced characters are everything to me #im just saying he was so funny and a breath of fresh air sometimes #and so unserious #i never felt like he fit into a singular box/trope #btvs #spike #luci.txt

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edutainer2022 · 1 month

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This came out of the blue, as I don't usually do the de-aging AU. Don't ask me about the physics of it - something, something Fischler is an idiot. It's mostly about the the emotional reactions and ramifications. So, in a flash of explosion Scott is three... again. The family navigate their feelings about it, dealing with a confused child. Virgil and John discuss the what-ifs and what-nots. Scotty gets better eventually, or maybe worse... From a certain point of view.

A bow to @janetm74 , whose takes on the trope are always fascinating.

WAY LEADS ON TO WAY

It took some coaxing and a promise of pie to pry the child away from Virgil. Blue eyes, too big for the small face, were full of fear and reoccurring tears. The tiny body was trembling and skinny arms clung to Virgil's flanel shirt ever since the device blew up. Virgil didn't mind one bit, but they needed to run scans and tests making sure the boy... Scott was okay. Or as okay as could be, considering he was now about 25 years younger than should be.

Everyone froze as the boy asked for "Momma and Virgie" the first time and burst into tears. It, surprisingly, took Virgil's voice to dissuade the meltdown, as he was gleefully identified as "Dada" and got a little limpet attached to his torso. The flash of pain in Dad's, actual Dad's, eyes was not lost on either Virgil or Grandma. Virgil hugged the child closer, suddenly self-conscious.

Brains was already deep in the schematics of the malfunctioned device, confiscated earlier that day from a disaster site that happened to be one of Fischler's labs. Kayo was looking stormy, plotting possible bodily harm, although, knowing Fischler, not even enhanced interrogation could yield reliable information on what happened and how to reverse the effects asap.

John watched Virgil with a now three year old Scotty, his expression unreadable. Eos was already tasked with simulations for reverse engineering the device. It being a Fischler's concoction, they couldn't risk hurting Scott as they would try to get him "back". Alan was shocked and looked a lot younger himself. Grandma hugged him with a reassuring word.

Gordon's natural skill with small kids proved handy, as he was quick to whip out Alan’s old toys from Neptune knew where and produced a heap of his own plushies. The little boy was suitably distracted and involved into play, making vroom-vroom noises with a dinosaur on a Lego plane. The window of calm didn't last long, though, as now little Scotty, obviously tired and confused, became cranky again and cried for Momma and Virgie. Virgil looked up at Dad, at a loss. The child obviously didn't remember much beyond being 'cotty, "this many fingers" old, Mom, and having a baby brother. Jeff, watching the boy with anguished yearning so far, as he got scared and ran to Virgil the first time around, stepped up again. The gruff words got the child shy at first, but Dad was patient explaining to Scotty "Momma and Virgie" were away on a long walk, so Scotty was left in charge at home, like a big boy. There's was a fair measure of tears in the rough gravel that strained Jeff's voice. All colors of eyes around were bright with tears too.

But the trick worked and after a moment of the tiny face frowning and considering more crying, Jeff was declared "Gan'pa!". The boy climbed into his lap, where he was now asleep, wrapped in Alan’s favorite childhood blanket. The small face relaxed from the strain and tears dried out - Scotty looked so sweet and happy.

It was decided to settle the child in Dad's room for the night. The infirmary, barren and unfamiliar, could scare him. And it would be more comfortable for Jeff to watch over the boy - a duty he vehemently refused to yield to any of his sons, who all volunteered readily. Gordon whisked Alan away for some brotherly soothing, as the kid was visibly shaken in the face of loosing biggest brother to the child he once was.

John squinted, eyes darting between Dad, doting and cooing over the tiny bundle of blankets, space-worn features softened and instantly younger too, and Virgil, clearly hesitant to leave. In the end, Jeff softly shooed the elder sons away - even at three Scotty had been a light sleeper.

John was headed to Brains' lab to assist with rebuilding the hapless device. Virgil tagged along, but for the moment they found themselves lingering in the dim hallway, outside of Dad's rooms. The events of the day were A LOT to absorb and to even begin to process. John caught Virgil stealing a glance back at the room, where the child was sleeping peacefully, deep in thought. John braced himself, as he was fairly certain he knew what his brother was thinking. As much as he knew he could never agree.

Virgil looked back, sadness mixed with hope in brown eyes.

"John, don't you think we should..."

"No!"

John didn't expect himself to yell and started, having to gulp down the rest of the protest, lest the child woke up. But Virgil was looking up at him, gaze already frantic with a fast assembling plan.

"I could adopt him! Or Dad. There won't be a legal problem! He's happy, Johnny! We can make sure he never gets hurt! Can you imagine?!"

Hope shone brighter over doubt in brown eyes, but John shuddered and stepped away from Virgil's reach. Because he COULD imagine. That pathway of probabilities was the first one through his mind, as a little boy crawled out of the dust and debris where their biggest brother was standing seconds ago. John COULD imagine. A Scott who had never held them all after Mom's funeral, a Scott, who never rocked Allie to sleep, crying for Mommy, a Scott, who never packed their lunches or picked them up from after-school clubs, because Dad was unavailable, floating in a sea of grief and work. A Scott they never lost to the horror of That Place. A Scott that never came back as a broken shell. A Scott that didn't give up every shred of himself to uphold Dad's legacy and step into Dad's shoes for them all. A Scott that wasn't blaming himself even now that Dad was back. A Scott that wasn't in pain. A Scott they could all see grow up and live a happy life he deserved.

John could see it all too well. It broke his heart to see Dad grasp at the impossible second chance to do right by the eldest son. He saw the eager plea in Virgil's eyes. And John near hated himself as every part of his soul was screaming in protest. Every selfish, terrified little brother part that was in agony at the prospect of losing the very foundation rock of their world - Scott the biggest brother, who loved them, and saw them, and cheered for them, and accepted them all for who they were, and shielded them in a world otherwise cruel and unyielding, a Scott who made sense of everything they were doing, of everything Dad was doing, even when they all drowned in hurt, grief, and resentment. A Scott who could tell them they could do it and they would believe it.

Making sure Scott got a chance at happiness meant loosing him for good. John squeezed his eyes shut against hot angry tears.

Virgil was still looking up at him, hesitant to offer unwarranted touch, and deeply worried. John took in a long stabilizing breath.

"Do you think... Do you think he'd want to never know us all, growing up?"

Virgil's face fell and John felt another pang of remorse.

As if on cue to that thought, the door to Dad's room slid open and tiny feet padded along the hallway. Virgil made a step to intercept the little fugitive, and crouched in front of the child, not to scare.

"What is it Scotty? Do you want some water?"

The boy was obviously drowsy from sleep, small hands rubbing the eyes.

"Wan'Virgie! Didn't say nite-nite t'Virgie! Where'Virgie?"

Big blue eyes were brimming with tears again, confused and desperate. Virgil picked up the feather-light frame and stood up, cradling the boy close and bouncing softly, whispering soothing nonsense to calm the child back to sleep. Brown eyes met a loaded gaze of the turquoise ones. Virgil knew John had a point. But it hurt to consider either way.

John stepped up closer, ruffling the boy's hair. Thunderbird Five, the Voice That Answers, was speaking now, but it was a brother's kiss on the child's temple:

"We'll help you find Virgie, Scotty! I promise! We'll help you get home! We've got you!"

The adult brothers exchanged another Look as the sniffles subsided and Scotty was falling asleep again.

John's comm pinged with a message from Brains. He got something on the device functions. It was quickly decided John would head to the lab. Dad obviously succumbed to the ever lingering fatigue and the stress of the day, so a woken up Scotty could escape. Virgil would stay in the lounge with the boy, watching over for more signs of distress or to mitigate more runaway attempts. Come morning, Gordon and Alan were to take over the babysitting duty. The villa was hopelessly NOT child-proof since Allie was past ten and Scotty's propensity for creative and agile jailbreaks was a significant part of family lore. Even if Brains was close to a reverse effect, they still would need to run tests and simulations, before even considering risking a child.

***

The last thing Scott remembered was a bright flash as the device he brought back for Brains to inspect heated up in his hands, vibrated and exploded. Now he was sitting flat on the floor in the hangar, ears ringing. A blur of motion in his periferal vision materialized in two bodies tackling him further down in a hug. Oomph, make it three bodies. Four. Alright, okay, he LOVED THEM TOO, but he needed to breathe. His ribs creaked. There were more pats down his shoulders and back, a brandished med scanner - unsurprising.

A bit more surprising was another hug, as he finally made it up off the floor and untangled gently, if wobbly, from the pile of brothers - Dad gathered him close in a fierce motion and held tight with no obvious intention to let go. It felt nice, of course, safe. But also worrisome. So for a moment Scott struggled with the conflicting urges to melt into the hug and to FIX whatever got Dad so scared. Jeff just tightened the embrace in response and Scott gave in, relaxing into being held.

He'd have to get to the bottom of it, as more arms joined the hold around him again, especially as he clearly heard Dad whispering "I'm so sorry, Bluejay! I love you so much, son". But for now he was warm, and snug, and obviously so welcome. He was home. Nothing ever felt better.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #scott tracy needs a hug #scott tracy needs his dad #deaged au #virgil tracy #john tracy #needs a hug #earth and star #jeff tracy needs a license update in fathering #my fic #thunderbirds 2015 #methinks i have astronomy

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 year

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Lookism and their silly lil hobbies

My headcannons of their less obvious interests!

Daniel: now he's in the fashion department and earning some money, he guesses he should take more of an interest in current trends. He's still wearing Jay's castoffs and he's happy with them but he takes a huge interest in women's fashion for his momma. She's worked hard and she deserves nice things and Daniel wants to spoil her 🥰

Jay: his hobby? Daniel. His thoughts? Daniel. His dreams? Daniel. But guns and motorbike? This boy has a thing for Hollywood action films and he has pretty good taste too. Classics-ish such as Matrix, Terminator, John Wick

Zoe: she loves watching animal rehab videos on social media, and even the videos of newtubers helping out homeless or down on their luck people. Most of it may be scripted but the act of kindness (even for selfish purposes) makes her melt

Vasco: you think this man doesn't have a Pinterest account? He doesn't spend his spare time putting boards together? His boards aren't public? He's not ashamed. He's got at least 1 for parties, 1 for golden retrievers and 1 for Hero Man pics

Jace: kdramas, the more romantic with as many tropes the better. He likes a good story filled with miscommunication, lots of crying, scenes in the rain and open eyed kisses 😳

Zack: sneaky little hobby of reading up on supernatural shit. After running into the ghost of J High, he's been absorbed with ghosts and demons - in particular how to avoid getting cursed...

Mira: meditation. Putting up with Zack all the time and the violent boys, she needs her moment of peace before she gets overwhelmed. She's also had some pretty traumatic experiences, so this helps her to centre and recollect her thoughts

Johan: unironically a sneakerhead. Started off researching expensive shoes so he can recognise them but now he's fully into the hobby. Way too tight to buy any for himself when he could be saving for his momma's operation but it's nice to window shop 🥺

Vin Jin: we all know he would be twerking to Dukes music. But apart from obviously his music (cos music is his life yknow), he would be leaving hate messages and death threats on Dukes social media and fanpages. He hate watches Dukes live streams but cant stop the twerk creeping up on him

Mary Kim: she's in the Vocal and Dance department but this girl can shred like no tomorrow. She has a band she's the lead vocalist and guitarist of that she keeps off Vins radar so he can keep the shitty rap to himself

Crystal: hiking and the outdoors. It's a way to keep her second body fit and get away from her desk and all the business bullshit. During the days that Gun acts as her bodyguard, she tells him to stay at least 50ft away so he doesn't ruin the mood

Jake: memelord. Cos at least humour is free. He collects pics and memes, and has so many shitty dad jokes up his sleeve to send to the Big Deal members and groupchats that he often gets kicked out or blocked. Hearing their exasperation at another one of his messages always brightens up his day

Samuel: lol drinking as a hobby. this man should be spending all his spare time in therapy but can't win them all 🤷‍♀️ Doesn't do much on his own time that doesn't advance his goals but enjoys sipping on some smooth expensive shit. Not the best for his health, but he needs something to block out the demons

Lua: not the queen of info for nothing. Spends a lot of her time on social media, forums and the dark web reading up on info (and gossip). Shes also kicked up a gear with her Muay Thai training so the assholes in Big Deal would stop underestimating her

Sinu: all that time being locked up with that little bit of chalk? You know what he did? HE'S A FIC WRITER. Headcannons of Big Deal, Sinu X Yeonhui. What the guys would be doing now, what sort of girlfriend Yeonhui would be (I wrote this as a joke but it's pretty depressing)

Gun: you thought that was a casual notepad and pen he had on hand for brekdaks autograph? No bitch its his actual autograph book. He lives and breathes fighting and fangirls a little internally meeting his fighting idols

Goo: anime and boardgames. Yes yes he's a nerd ok. He watched 1 too many anime shows and in his head he's the protagonist fighting his way to the top, with his sidekick Gun. But who do you think left all the boardgames in that shitty house? Gun is boring and Goo needs entertaining. It's one way to let them get competitive without beating the shit out of each other... Usually

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liyawritesss · 9 months

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ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Miles Morales & Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Rio Morales

Type: Fic

Word Count: 1.4k

Synopsis: Miles tries to show his appreciation for his mother, for all she’s done for him. Even if he can’t verbally say it sometimes; he understands. More than anyone.

Warnings: not a reader insert, so no use of y/n or second person. Mentions jeffersons death on earth-42, so grief mentions as well. Miles is sneaky and kinda sorta lies to mama rio but its all to keep things under wraps and to keep her protected.

A/N: Inspired by @luvjunie ’s 42!Miles Headcanons, specifically as it pertains to him helping his mom out in secret. This headcanon hit home for me and I wanted to write a little content specifically catered to our favorite momma’s boy and his mom

Song Suggestions: “Dear Mama”, “So Many Tears”, & “Keep Ya Head Up” by Tupac Shakur; “Rose In Harlem” by Teyana Taylor; “Broken Clocks” by SZA; “You Got Me” by The Roots, Erykah Badu, Eve, Tariq Trotter

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @lulu-network @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @briology @honeybleed @romiantic @queenofthespiderverse @onlyperc @starsoir @yasminisbroke @asensitivecookie @kdyance @sussybaka10 @daisydark @ykimobessed

For as long as Miles could remember, his mom’s dresser had been littered with jars.

Clear, glass containers varying in height and size lining the length of the mahogany wood, situated at the back edge and labeled for certain purposes. They’d helped her keep track of spending habits and separating money for important bills. He’s watched from his youth as his mother counted out the money from her paychecks carefully, dividing the sums into each jar, only being left with a few dollars to her name to last her for the next two weeks. He remembers the overwhelming feeling of helplessness that overtook his young frame as a child when the look of dejectedness flashed across her face.

All he’d ever wished for was to relieve his mother of the stress and prejudice that came with being a widowed single mother. Miles remembers most of his childhood being filled with anger from the pitied looks the other neighborhood moms gave to Rio at the grocery store, and the way people spoke of her as if she were a porcelain doll that needed careful tending due to her ‘vulnerable state’. While it was clear that the loss of Jefferson changed their lives completely, the combination of ingenuine concern from the surrounding community and lack of resources that Rio had access to, mixed with the very raw and still fresh gash of grief left in the now broken family, created a culmination of woe and desolation felt between mother and son; and unfortunately, despite the increased dependency of their bond, such feelings became difficult to express.

Rio became akin to the strong woman trope; the one where a woman of color was expected to pull through all obstacles with a smile on her face, with complete disregard for the turmoil and trauma that would be suffered.

Miles became the pitied son; always angry, always looked upon with false sympathy, always wishing to do better and be better so his mother wouldn’t have to worry about him.

The jars that littered his mother’s dresser soon became the driving force behind his desires to ease her stresses. So when he approaches his uncle with a fire in his eyes and a will power unlike anything he’s ever seen on the streets, it doesn’t take much convincing for Aaron to take the boy seriously.

He thinks back on the nights where he could hear the muffled sniffles of his mother in the next room over as he sneaks into her bedroom in the early hours of the morning. He’d just gotten home, and Rio would be pulling up any minute, so Miles has to make this quick. His book bag rests at his feet, forest green hoodie contrasting against the color of the dresser as he reaches for the tall glass jar labeled ‘RENT’, his dark brown hands pulling the glass container closer as he pulls out a wad of cash from his pockets.

Last time he counted, the jar was about two hundred dollars short of the proper amount that allowed them to call the flat their home. He carefully counts out three hundred from the wad of green in his hands, slips it into the metal slit at the top of the jar, and pushes it back to its original spot.

He does the same for the other glass jars labeled ‘LIGHTS’, ‘HEAT/GAS’, ‘WATER’, ‘WIFI’, ‘GROCERIES’, ‘CAR’, ‘ENTERTAINMENT’, and ‘OTHER’; slipping the amount he knows his mother usually puts into each jar with a little something extra for each one (also paying close attention to the entertainment jar, as there is never much of anything in it, an allusion to Rio’s near non-existent life outside of work and her son, something Miles desperately wishes to change for her). While the wad of cash in his hand slowly depletes, there's a pool of pride that swells in its place, knowing that his secret endeavors make a difference, even the smallest.

The sound of the front door opening and closing causes Miles to jump slightly in his place. He fixes the jars back in their original position, hurriedly making his way out of Rio’s room, careful not to bump into anything or cause any scuffle that could alert his mother’s careful eyes of a disturbance in her space. He all but comes to a halt when he turns from her door to find her standing in front of him, brows furrowed in question.

“Miles?” It doesn’t take long for him to notice the way the dark circles under her eyes sag a little more than the last time she’d been to work, or the pure exhaustion that seeps from her small voice, tired and desperate for sleep. “What were you doing in my room?”

“The door was open,” it’s a practiced lie, one he’s never had to use much, but always has on hand, especially when the false proof of his words are etched onto his mothers face already, “thought you were in already, but I ain’t see you, so I was just closing it before heading out.”

Rio blinks, and Miles watches as she mentally retraces her steps from the night before as she rushed off to work, but the exhaustion that sags her body doesn’t allow her to spend much time on it. “Oh, right; thank you, papa.”

It’s tired and drained, her voice, no doubt from yet another double she had picked up in order to make rent for the month. The first of the month had always been a tumultuous time, where Miles watched Rio disappear through the front door at eight o’clock in the evening, not to return until eight o’clock that morning, then repeat for the next day until the hours added up sufficely on the paycheck. The process was just as hard to watch as it was to endure.

His eyes quickly darted down to the bags his mother was carrying, and without warning, Miles swept them from her hands, alleviating the additional weight that pulled his mother’s frame into a sulking position. Rio dared not to object to the act of service; it had always been his way of helping her after a long shift, even in his younger years as a child. She remembers his greedy, eager hands reaching for her lunch bag and bookbag, the latter of which was far to heavy for him to carry, but he still made an effort to haul the items into the bedroom and tuck them away in the corner while she tread into the kitchen to fix him a hot plate before school. An unspoken ritual the two did with the passing moments that they had, the older that Miles got. Rio would be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t grown fond of the never ending care in Miles’ eyes, and how no matter his age or life experiences, he was always there.

“I made some breakfast,” Miles says as he guides his mother to the bed, gesturing to the loungewear clothes that hung across the foot of the bed frame, “it’s in the microwave.”

“Is it edible this time?” Rio nudges, her joke earning her an airy chuckle from her son.

“Wow, goin’ on me this early in the morning? That’s crazy.”

“I’m not the one who thought that pancakes were done when they’re charred around the edges.”

“Llegar, mamá, eso fue una vez!”

The laughter that echoes throughout the four walls of the main bedroom resonate through the walls, and the air becomes a little lighter than before, the pressure on their hearts ease just a bit.

When he’s done making sure that his mother is set to rest for the rest of the day, Miles grabs his discarded bookbag from the threshold, and bids his mother a bittersweet farewell. As he disappears behind the bedroom door, he heaves a heavy sigh, the sound of his shoes echoing further and further away, before Rio finds herself heaving a sigh as well.

She dresses into the loungewear that Miles had set out for her, immediately slipping underneath the covers after closing the blinds and plugging in her phone. Sleep delirium begins to set in as her head makes contact with the pillows, and yet, her mind never ceases. She’s always thinking, always planning, always working on the next move. Always contemplating on how to keep the jars that litter her dresser full for the rent and bills to be paid.

It doesn’t take long for Rio to succumb to it, however, and as she closes her eyes and slip off to slumber, she can’t help but notice how the jars do seem a little bit fuller than when she had left the night before.

#black reader #black tumblr #black marvel #black spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman beyond the spiderverse #spiderman itsv #spiderman atsv #spiderman btsv #miles morales earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales #e-42!miles morales #earth 42 rio morales #rio morales earth 42 #rio morales

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isuckatwritingsobenice · 9 months

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Hii! I saw you wrote for My hero and wanted to request something! Denki Kaminar x Milf Reader? Maybe she’s like, loaded, but not a sugar momma - sugar baby trope, if that makes any sense? this is my first time requesting on tumblr so i’m not sure how this works, but if you don’t want to do it it’s fine!

The way this thought came into my head after I saw a Kaminari edit, and then I open tumblr and BOOM, the perfect request. You better believe your girl will write no matter what time or place. Let’s talk about it though, he is so 😩😩!!!

Warnings: Mentions of Smut, Age Gap, Nudity, mentions of Drinking, P in V, mommy kink, body worship, headcannon format, denki being horny 25/8, slight insecure reader

Navigation!! // MHA Masterlist!!

You two meet at a bar, and he ends up going to you first

He thinks your so gorgeous and he’s probably not gonna have a chance but it’s worth a shot right?

You two end up talking and get to know each other

His shock when you tell him your age 😨😨

you apologize, you say you understand if he isn’t interested anymore and that its completely fine

but hes just looking at you like ‘🤨🤨 girl who the fu-‘

But he tells you he doesn’t care, and he really doesn’t, he thinks your amazing

Im thinking he’s like mid 20’s & reader is late 30’s early 40’s, you know?

When you two start talking more he finds out you have a son, and they’re around the same age ?!?!?!

You introduce the two boys to each other, and your son is a bit weary at first but eventually he grows to like Denki

Now, do not be fooled, this man is absolutely WHIPPED for you no matter what

He absolutely has a mommy kink you cannot tell me otherwise ESPECIALLY with Milfs

He has a shirt that says i 🫶 milfs, specifically you

if you ever complain that your not the way you used to be he will shower you in compliments 100%, he loves you so so so much

Now if your LOADED??? oh fuck

he’s in love with you for life, but he doesn’t exploit the fact you have money, no no

it makes him work harder, he wants to be equal with you, you know? he wants to be able to buy you things with his own hard earned money, so this is important to him

Let’s say you have a large house, with a large pool

He’s definitely fucking you by the pool, no questions asked

he is THE pool boy, and we’re living for it honestly

if your house is huge he’s fucking you anywhere he can

kitchen counter, poolside, in the pool, in the hot tub, in your shower, guest bed, ON YOUR BALCONY, living room, garage / car sex

his favorite place to be is in you

he makes it his life’s mission to have sex in every room in the house

private garden? you looked so pretty bent over watering your flowers he couldn’t help it

own tennis court? he’s flipping that skirt up and giving you back shots till you can’t think straight

hot tub? you bet, the jets work over time that day

if your really loaded and have a private jet, he’s fucking you right by the window, just for fun

prívate boat? he’s fucking you mid ocean

he. is. FILTHY. and he has no shame

likes ripping all your expensive clothes off you, he says they rip easily even though they’re expensive

body worshipper 100%, because he thinks your absolutely stunning and you need to know all the time

doesn’t matter who you are, if Denki loves you, he loves YOU

#my hero x reader #my hero academia #denki kaminari #denki fluff #denki x you #bnha denki #denki x reader #denki x female reader #denki headcanons #denki smut #denki x y/n #mha kaminari #denki kaminari x reader #isuckatwritingsobenice

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furienna · 9 months

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M - W

Mama Bear: Míriam and Pepa had a big brawl one time, when Camilo hit Víctor in the stomach with a football. Míriam began to yell at Camilo for "hurting" Víctor, and Pepa arrived to defend her son and almost caused a storm.

Masculine Girl, Feminine Boy: Downplayed as Teresa isn't masculine otherwise, but if someone bullies her brother or insults her father, she will become mad and want to fight, while Víctor is more likely to do nothing except start to cry. * It's implied that Bruno and Pepa were like this as well when they were younger. Pepa is hardly that masculine otherwise either, but she's got a terrible temper. And it's revealed that years ago, she used to hit Bruno's bullies with lightning. And as for him, he seems to have simply had to wait for his sister to save him.

The Medic: Julieta's power is that she can heal people with her cooking.

Momma's Boy: Bruno was very controlled by his mother when he was younger, and he still has to look into people's futures because she says so. He was only able to ever stand up to her after he got married, but he still chooses his battles. * Víctor prefers to let his mother Míriam treat his wounds when he's attacked, despite the fact that his aunt Julieta has a healing power. And he will let Míriam pamper him because he can't say no to her. But he's a rare case of this trope, who is lucky enough to have a father and to have a good relationship with him. * And also, both Pablo and Mariano are shown to be very close to their mothers. And Teresa and Dolores agree that it's a good quality.

Muggle Born of Mages: While it's true that her father has no magic in his family, Mirabel is the first kid in two generations of her mother's family to have no "gift".

Multigenerational Household: Teresa and Víctor and their parents share a house with the following relatives: a grandmother, two aunts, their husbands, and even six cousins. When they lose the Casita, they have to go live with their maternal grandparents instead. But it makes them qualify for this trope again.

My Beloved Smother: As a single mother with war trauma, Abuela Madrigal has been a controlling force in the lives of her three children. She's pleased to know that they all became Happily Married. But now, it is time to push the grandkids into marriage! She becomes a lot better after the Casita crumbles though. * Míriam is dangerously close to being this too as she's very protective of Víctor. This is kind of justified by how often he has fainted though. And luckily, Bruno is good at guiding him without pampering him. Míriam is notably less smothering towards Teresa, except that she shows a bit of concern when she meets Pablo. But that is because Míriam's sister is stuck in a bad marriage, and she's afraid of seeing Teresa end up in a similar situation…

Obnoxious In-Laws: Downplayed with Abuelo Gonzalez, Bruno's father-in-law. He told Abuela Gonzalez once that he wondered if Bruno is "right in the head", and he doesn’t get how he can have rats as pets as he sees them as vermin. Bruno decides to simply do what he can to never ever anger his father-in-law. And usually, that is good enough to keep Abuelo Gonzalez satisfied. However, Teresa is fully aware that her father and her abuelo have a strained relationship. * There's a bit of tension between Míriam and Abuela Madrigal too, since Míriam once insisted that Víctor was too young to work. He was only five years old then, but the thought that a magic gift wouldn't be used really scared Abuela Madrigal. This ended with a big brawl. And even though they mostly just let each other be after that, Míriam just knew that she could only defy Abuela Madrigal once.

Official Couple: Bruno and Míriam are the main couple in the first two chapters. But later in the story, Teresa and Pablo are this instead.

Only Friend: Teresa and Mirabel are close despite an age difference of six years. And when Teresa meets Pablo, Mirabel is very afraid that she will be all alone. * Later, Pablo refers to Mariano as his only friend. And still, they had only started to talk to each other after Pablo started dating Teresa.

Personal Rainclowd: Pepa will often get one if she gets upset about something. But if she's really upset, it is even possible for her to cause a hurricance or make it snow.

Power Incontinence: It is very easy for the Madrigals to lose control of their gifts. Teresa and Bruno can see people's futures by accident if they get angry, Pepa is known to cause a storm if she's upset, Isabela even hurts Mariano with a plant.

The Quiet One: Dolores is clearly the least talkative one out of the Madrigals. Teresa found it hard to even talk to her until they both found a boyfriend, so they could talk about that and have double dates. * Leonor is very quiet too and just works in the shop without causing any trouble. But she and Teresa have one important conversation about their father figures, which is more than enough to clue Teresa in on that Leonor hides a lot of pain.

Raised By Grandparents: This happened to Teresa's cousin Leonor, who had to live with Abuelo and Abuela Gonzalez. Her mother had to leave her with them, because she married a violent drunk and wanted to keep her daughter from him.

Red Oni, Blue Oni: Pepa is very emotional and capricious (red), Julieta is calm and responsible (blue). * Míriam is clearly more introverted and responsible (blue) than her flighty sister Malena (red). * Agustín is calm and composed (blue), Félix is jolly and extroverted (red). * Mirabel is bubbly and talkative (red), Dolores is calmer and quiet (blue). * Camilo is extroverted and loves to entertain people (red), while Víctor is introverted and prefers to stay at home and read (blue). * Camilo is furthermore an extroverted red to either of his siblings, as Dolores and Antonio are introverted blues.

Seers: Bruno and Teresa can look into the future. But it becomes a burden when people accuse them of causing their bad luck…

Sensitive Guy and Manly Man: Pablo seems to have been more fragile than his brother Manuel, who managed to become a strong carpenter like their father.

Settle For Sibling: Even though Isabela and Dolores are cousins and not sisters, they end up in a variant of this trope. Everybody seems to just expect Mariano to propose to Isabela, but she's not interested and is only agreeing to it to please Abuela Madrigal. Dolores happens to be in love with Mariano though, but she won't say anything about it until Teresa has a vision about them. But in the end, Isabela is free to not agree to a loveless marriage. And it leaves Dolores free to date Mariano…

Sibling Yin-Yang: Pepa is hot-tempered and emotional, Julieta is calmer and more responsible. Bruno is pretty much a middle ground between his sisters, being introverted but still very likely to show emotions like anxiety and shame. * Míriam is very responsible and more introverted, Malena is very flighty and more extroverted. * Isabela is seen as the family beauty and a "perfect princess", Luisa is very tall and strong and muscular, and Mirabel is neither too girly-girly nor too tomboyish, but she's looking for her purpose in the family, where she's the only kid who has has no magic gift. * Dolores is very calm and quiet, Camilo is very mischievous and an entertainer, and Antonio has animal friends, but he will be introverted around people. * Pablo has never been as strong or as good at carpentry as his brother Manuel, but he turns out to be less judgemental than most of his family as well.

Sickeningly Sweethearts: Míriam is fond of hugging and kissing Bruno in public, even if people are annoyed by it. Bruno and Míriam can also be lovey-dovey in front of their kids, and that is after twenty-two years of marriage.

Single Woman Seeks Good Man: Míriam quickly knew that despite his terrible reputation among the villagers, Bruno was notably nicer than her sister's suitors. And she also saw that Agustín and Félix were good for Julieta and Pepa. * And in the following generation, Pablo is truly good for Teresa. He is the only villager to feel bad about not doing anything, when a group of bullies had attacked Víctor, or to show some skepticism about all the terrible rumors about Bruno, and even to accept that rats can be pets. Likewise, Dolores fell in love with Mariano because of his Nice Guy qualities.

So Proud of You: Bruno is very good at telling Víctor that he's so proud of him. But as Teresa has been seen as stronger and her parents focus more on Víctor, she has never been told that. When she's able to replicate one of her father's visions though, Bruno finally does tell her that he is proud of her.

Speaks Fluent Animal: Antonio's power is that he communicates with animals.

Super Hearing: Dolores's power is that she can hear everything in the Encanto.

Supreme Chef: Julieta's power is that she can heal people with her cooking.

Tomboy and Girly-Girl: Tall and muscular Luisa is strong enough to lift up the village church. Isabela is known as the family beauty and a "perfect princess". But it changes after Isabela has a make-over…

Town Girls: Isabela is seen as a great beauty and a "perfect princess" (femme). Luisa is tall and strong and muscular (butch). Mirabel is between them being neither that girly-girly nor that tomboyish (neither).

Understanding Boyfriend: If a guy wants to date one of the magic Madrigal girls, he has to be this. Teresa is even astonished by how Pablo is almost too good to be true, but she can find comfort in that he and Mariano are there for each other.

Unusual Pets for Unusual People: Bruno and Víctor keep rats as pets, which is seen as very strange and adds to their bad reputation. Teresa grosses a group of girls out by picking up a rat. And even Abuelo Gonzalez calls rats "vermin", when Víctor has three of them in a cage when they must stay with their abuelos. That leads to a bit of conflict as Bruno of course will support his son about this…

Violently Protective Wife: Downplayed as Míriam doesn’t actually use violence, but all the villagers know that she will chase them away from Bruno. Justified as looking into the future for too long gives him migraines, and it could even make him faint...

Weather Manipulation: Pepa's mood is what decides the weather in the Encanto. So you will have good weather if she's happy and bad weather if she's unhappy.

World's Strongest Woman: Luisa's power is her super strength.

#fan fiction #encanto #fanfics #tropes

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thegamingcatmom · 1 year

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Carrot anon👋🏻

Hii mom, i saw your recent post, it was good. I was curious to know how Deadite Ellie would act if I noticed another Deadite eye on the Drama Queen, I can imagine a little, but your explanation will make everything clear.

I hope you are well.👋🏻

HELLAW CARROT ANON

Thank youuuu, so glad you liked it. 🥰

Ohhh the jealousy trope eh? I can see why my recent post has inspired that way of thinking, poor boy. 😅

May he rest in pieces.

EDIT on 18th June:

AIGHT GUYS I MADE IT IT´S FINALLY FINISHED.

We´re covering quite a bit in this one (meaning: the batshittery going on here is on another level entirely) and I couldn´t be prouder to finally present to you the next installment of what-the-actual-fuck aka:

Lions

Enjoy (cause I sure as hell did). ❤️

(@gaym0m ATTENTION NOW ❤️)

AIGHT so, if a mere boy who´s really no match for her - because look at that scrawny thing - no claws or fangs or ANYTHING that could be considered useful or, more importantly, make for a worthy mate - has managed to evoke that fierce of a reaction in Momma then just imagine the utter carnage if another Undead was caught red-handed after Momma returned from a rather successful patrol and she´s been gone a mere 10 minutes for god´s sake but-

When the cat's away, the mice will play.

Maggot Momma didn´t even have to look because - head lifting to take one, two, three whiffs - she could smell it. Fear lies in the air - almost pungent - and while it´s an aroma that´d drive her absolutely wild - get her going - under normal circumstances, right in this moment it does anything but because no one but her gets to evoke this type (or ANY type) of reaction in her Drama Queen, her mate.

She´s off, skipping the elevator and collapsed stairs altogether because not fast enough and claws are digging into the wall and going up up up until she reaches the air shaft, nose first always first although she doesn´t even need it because she can sense you, is pulled towards you like a magnet, it´s instinct-

Meanwhile (somewhere else in this (cursed) building):

Is one quiet, peaceful moment of sanity really too much to ask for?

When you woke up this morning you didn´t think much of the claws digging into your side or the cold nose pressed into your neck or even the long tongue that feels like sandpaper that´s come out to join the rest of It. You´ve become used to that being your alarm clock which you find quite the depressing development but it is what it is and at least you´re still alive and kicking (unlike boy) so yknow, the glas is always half full and yadda yadda.

Although, it has to be said, maybe things wouldn´t take such a toll on your sanity (unlikely) if it wasn´t for that stench that truly does make your eyes water and now that you think about it you can´t help but notice today´s...different. Its odor is even more unpleasant than usual because now it´s got this foul note to it whereas before you´d have described it as rather spicy, almost sharp and seeming to burn itself into your very core.

But that´s not the only thing that irritates you because even the way It´s touching you seems off today. You´ve become used to clawed hands raking and brushing and encasing you almost feverishly, like they´re trying to map out every inch of your body before you vanish (which, sadly, it doesn´t look like that´s about to happen anytime soon).

Now though? Clawed hands are rough and almost sloppy like they don´t quite know how to be hands. Gripping you way too tight and you´re sure that´s gonna leave a nasty bruise, more rubbing than brushing along your leg like It´s trying to pull the skin clean off and that gets you moving because it is not pleasant, at all and what the hell´s even going on-

As soon as It´s noticed there´s movement the grip on you tightens like a boa constrictor squeezing all life out of you and that´s exactly what it feels like actually and now´s the moment you really start to panic because you knew this day would come sooner or later when It finally gets tired of you but you´d hoped for (much) later and It´s started to snarl now which is most unpleasant because it´s so deep you can feel it reverberating through your whole body.

Its maw has opened now and you know this because you can feel Its breath puffing out against your neck, tongue running up and down again and there´s something cold dropping down on you and even that feels different - thicker, more viscous, almost like syrup and you manage to move your head just enough to be able to take a look at what´s going on and-

It doesn´t just feel different.

You see black, literally. It´s everywhere - on you, on the bedsheets, on the floor and - that´s new. And you have a sneaking suspicion which you hope against all hope will turn out to be just that but when you manage to turn your head a bit further to actually take a look at who...what has taken a hold of you-

Have you become deaf?

You´re asking because, all of a sudden, the world around you goes silent save for the ringing in your ears and you realize it´s because you are screaming at the top of your lungs and it´s a wonder the windows in this cursed building haven´t shattered yet but that really is the least of your worries right now because-

This Undead doesn´t appreciate you trying to obliberate Its hearing, at all and so you´re pushed onto your back and into the mattress, clawed hand coming up to grip your throat and squeeze and, immediately, the room falls silent again.

(Aside from the sounds of you being strangled and literally fighting for your life.)

There are tears in your eyes now because of course it ends like this, just your luck, and death by suffocating is just as unpleasant as you´d imagined it would be (not that there´s been many occasions which would´ve encouraged this sort of thinking...until your sorry ass got itself stuck in this cursed building) and just when you thought-

Well, good thing is: it can´t get worse from here, can it?

Its maw opens again and those teeth look very sharp indeed and they´re getting closer, inch by inch, and you get the feeling It´s doing it on purpose - messing with you - because It thrives on seeing the sheer terror that must be written all over your face right now and jaws opening wider and wider and you´re certain one single bite could take off half your face-

Your eyes close tightly because knowing your untimely demise is near is one thing, seeing it is another thing entirely and why would you need to anyway? It doesn´t matter, it´s not like that´ll change anything, change the fact you´re gonna end up as food for that thing any moment now and-

You don´t know what happened because your eyes remain firmly closed and you´re not planning on changing that anytime soon, but-

There´s a ripping sound and you can feel something splattering all over your face and there´s gurgling and then there´s nothing.

And all of that does pique your interest because, just a second ago, you were preparing for certain death so you should be a goner by now but you´re not so you finally find the courage to open your eyes to see what happened instead is-

Well, that doesn´t look normal...or pleasant.

Its jaws are still way too close for comfort, still as wide as they were seconds ago when It was preparing to swallow you whole. But what´s different now is that there´s a hand sticking out between them and there´s this urge to wave at it and this is the type of stuff nightmares are made of but this whole situation is so ridiculous that all you can seem to think of right now is to lift your hand and shake it-

You don´t get the chance however, because that hand closes abruptly, balled into a tight fist, and it´s pulling to the side with an alarming force and right through the head, tearing everything on its way out.

But damn, that thing´s tough. Didn´t even flinch through it all, just slowly turning around, head completely sunken in on one side, to face the force of nature that is It.

("Helheim" - Rok Nardin starts playing in the background)

To say Maggot Momma is livid would be the understatement of the century. She´s shaking, vibrating with a rage that´s rare even for her. Her usually glowing eyes have turned so black one can see their own reflection in them. Teeth seem to have grown in length and become even sharper and there are black veins criss crossing all over her neck, her face and all the way to her eyes.

In other words: It looks every bit the demon you´ve always suspected (and feared) It to be.

And ever since It has crashed the (slaughter) party thank god there´s been an eery silence - heavy breathing from everyone involved is the only thing that can be heard for a while.

So, imagine your almost heart attack when, suddenly, there´s screeching and roaring and it sounds like war is about to start which doesn´t seem too far off because-

Maggot Momma has had enough of this disrespect - looking at what is hers, touching what is hers, harming what is hers (that Deadite´s dead). And now even going so far as to rebel against her? Openly questioning her authority - challenging her - in front of her mate no less? Hoping to impress her Drama Queen and snatch her up for itself?

Ridiculous. Laughable. Pathetic.

And so you can only watch all-out war indeed breaking out and ffs, is one quiet, peaceful, sane moment really too much to ask for?

fuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK-

It´s ON now.

Bodies smashing together with a dull thump! and there´s snarling and growling and hissing, clawed hands are digging in to find purchase but also to grip and tear and rip limbs straight out of their sockets-

One arm is sent flying, catapulting in your direction and almost hitting you hadn´t you managed to duck just in time and when you realize which one it belongs to you feel utter relief and you can´t believe you´re actually rooting for It - your It - but considering what the other It was about to do...who can blame you?

Bodies are warped to the point you can´t tell where one begins and the other ends and there´s horrible, horrible sounds coming out of them and this brawl is getting way too close for comfort now and one of your hands is digging into the bedsheets, getting a good grip on them so you can push yourself closer to the head of the bed and away from whatever is going on at the foot of it and your other hand comes up in an attempt to shield your face in case more limbs (or worse) come flying and you truly are pathetic, aren´t you? Like THAT would make a difference when you´re nothing more than a disoriented lamb, stupid enough to wander right into the lion´s den and get caught in the crossfire when two of them decide to battle it out over a piece of meat.

And they´re fast. Everything seems blurred to you because one moment they´re in front of you - way too close - and next thing you know there´s a horrible screeching sound and one of them is smashing against the opposite wall, the force of it leaving a rather big dent and this is the first time since war has started that you´re able to make out more than a moving mass of limbs.

And you wish you hadn´t because the It that got smashed against the wall is your It and It´s missing half Its face - true to the motto tit for tat - which means the other It is no longer being held back from-

It´s rounding on you so fast, recognizing that now or never and It´s off, racing towards you like possessed, feet leaving the ground to take one massive leap in your direction and the sight of it is horrifying because all you see is teeth heading straight for you so you close your eyes again, tightly, because what else can you do but wait for certain death to finally claim you-

So you wait.

And wait.

...And wait some more.

Until you muster up the courage to open your eyes again to see what´s taking so fucking long and you realize-

Is this a joke? Are you a joke to them?

There´s only so many amost heart attacks one can endure and you swear to god you´re done with this shitshow-

Because the other It has made it onto the bed and those claws are way too close to your feet right now but they have a hard time reaching their target because-

It - your It - has a very tight grip on that leg indeed. So tight you can see it starting to cave in but that does nothing to deter the thing from trying to reach you - snapping Its jaws at you like a rabid dog and sending blood and other fluids flying everywhere, the arm It still got left trashing about in an attempt to reach you - any part of you - but-

Maggot Momma has had it.

She´s kneeled on the floor in front of the bed, upper body propped up against it and a clawed hand having a rather crushing grip on that scum indeed. She´s gonna obliterate it - hack and bite and claw and rip until there´s nothing left. How dare it look at what is hers and touch what is hers and harm what is HERS and never before has she felt outrage when looking at her precious Drama Queen because how could she when you´re perfection and you´re her perfect mate, meant for her only her but-

She´s failed.

And someone´s gotta pay.

A sharp tug sends the other It tumbling down onto the floor and there´s no way anyone could´ve missed the pop! that´s accompanied Its fall and a leg goes flying next, landing right next to you and you´re about to puke-

Finally, after what seemed like hours when it´s been a mere 5 minutes since carnage´s started you manage to snap out of whatever the fuck´s just happened and you can´t get off that bed fast enough. Literally tripping over yourself in your haste to get away from that - your body just sort of collapsing to the side, letting yourself fall over and down onto the floor and yknow what-

Hasting under the bed because fuck that shit.

...Which puts you in the direct line of sight of It - Its hollow eyes staring right through you it seems, not an ounce of life in them and, for the very first time since "residing" in this hellhole, this does make you wonder - what the hell happened? These must´ve been normal people with normal lifes at some point. What went down in this cursed building that´s caused all this?

You´re brought back to the present when It lets out a pitiful wail and you realize it´s because your It has started to relieve the other It of Its remaining extremities. And you get the feeling It thoroughly enjoys doing so, if the sounds are anything to go by - teeth are chittering and there´s a low humming that almost sounds like moaning and then there´s a hiss before-

The other arm is sent flying.

And, poor fucker - flopping around like a fish because having only one appendage left is bound to make things rather difficult and you can only imagine what a blow this must be to ones ego because how can you ever come back from that? And It seems to have come to the same realization because-

It´s trashing about with everything It´s got now (which is one leg), literally fighting for Its (undead) life, fight or flight mode fully kicking in now and choosing the latter because wouldn´t you?

It´s kicking and kicking and kicking - over and over - to prevent your It from taking away Its only chance to, somehow, turn this situation around and make it out (un)alive and for a horrifying moment you fear It´s actually managed because-

"Mmph-!"

A foot collides with Its face - the side that´s already demolished at that - causing It to falter and stagger and lose Its grip for a moment-

But a moment is all the other It needs.

Another solid kick! - this time right into the middle of the chest - sends your It flying, crashing against the dresser - wood shattering on impact and the other It has managed to prop Itself up, using the stump that used to be Its other leg for support and gaining enough momentum to actually get up and hop around - rather awkwardly - and make Its way to the door and you gotta admit-

That was quite impressive.

It doesn´t get very far however because your It is on the move again - covered in dust and wood pieces, some of them having impaled It - leaping up and clinging onto Its back like a deranged koala, sending both of them stumbling against the door and your position under the bed doesn´t really make for the best lookout (which you don´t mind in the least) so you can only assume what must be going on right now, which-

There´s a disturbing crunch! that sounds strangely wet at the same time and there´s gurgling like someone´s suffocating on something thick and viscous - like syrup - and then there´s a ripping sound and, suddenly, your It is on Its feet again, a clawed hand holding what seems to be a sogged rag that´s dripping onto the floor and-

What is that?

It´s eerily silent save for the ragged breathing which you´re sure is coming from your It because It looks to be trembling, whatever It´s got in Its hand shaking, making it drip even more and it feels like an eternity has passed when, at last, there´s movement. The other It using Its foot to rotate and turn to face your It - slowly - and you feel like you´re the one suffocating now and you realize it´s because you´ve actually stopped breathing because-

Now what?

You´re ripped out of your near panic attack - literally - when the other It suddenly comes crashing down and Its fall is so unexpected that it takes you a moment to realize it´s actually happened.

And it takes you another moment to realize just what you´re staring at.

There´s black, so much of it, it´s everywhere and oozing out of It and pooling on the floor and - squinting your eyes - is that a tongue?

You have your answer when what you thought was a sogged rag lands right next to It - lifeless eyes staring back at you, making you retch - and it´s a wonder you haven´t puked your guts out yet because it´s not like someone´s head getting ripped in half is an every day occurence and-

It´s not done yet. Casually walking (more stumbling like It's the walking dead, feet dragging behind a bit) to the other side of the room to pick up what looks to be a leg and just as casually walking (stumbling) back - leg dragged lazily behind, leaving smears of black on the worn out carpet. It´s coming to a stop right next to...what remains of It and you see the leg starting to leave the floor, going up up up only to-

The leg´s brought down again and again and again, the force behind it making flesh and bones burst, sending black everywhere and it sounds just as horrible as it looks - a squelching sound that´s reverberating through the whole room and your hands are coming up to cover your ears because you just want this madness to stop-

Please stop it!

It´s not until all that´s left is black goo that It relents, letting the leg - what´s left of it - drop onto the floor with a dull thud!, still breathing quite heavily indeed and then-

("Closing In" - Michel F. April starts playing in the background)

Silence

You wait.

And you wait.

...And wait some more.

Until you´re absolutely certain you´re no longer in danger of witnessing utter carnage. Only then do you slowly lower your hands, letting them rest on the floor - digging into the worn out carpet to brace yourself in case you gotta run for your life.

After what felt like hours It´s on the move again. Bare feet slowly making their way to the side of the bed that´s closest to the door because of course - your eyes following every step, head turning to never break gaze - and you´re stuck, nearly starting to panic again because you don´t know what to do, there´s nowhere to go because even if you managed to crawl out from under the bed before It got a hold of you there´s just no way you´d make it to that door. You know this because you literally just witnessed another It getting ripped apart and if a mighty lion didn´t stand a chance then what could you - a disoriented lamb - possibly achieve here?

It doesn´t matter anymore because it´s too late, your habit of getting lost in thought has sealed your fate and now there´s no more time to do fuck all because-

It´s reached the side of the bed and is starting to bend down, hands coming to join the feet on the floor - claws, then fingers, then palms - and lowering down down down and face starting to come into view now - chin, then mouth, then nose - until bright, glowing eyes are staring back at you and you can´t believe you´re actually starting to feel something that could resemble relief because finally you no longer see black.

Its demon-like appearance gone, save for the black veins still criss crossing along Its face - their visibility reduced to a slight black hue though - and teeth are back to their usual length and oh, oh my-

Only now do you remember that It´s missing half Its face - teeth on the right side fully visible, skin and flesh torn off almost all the way up to Its ear - and you can see remains of the other It stuck between those teeth - must´ve bitten that head clean off - and it is not a pleasant sight but you can´t help but think that-

Didn´t it look worse before?

You´re brought back to the present moment rather quickly because-

It has started crawling towards you and fuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK-

Never in your life have you crawled backwards this fast (you´ve literally never crawled backwards in your life ever because who does that?), fingers digging into the carpet, nearly scraping your knees in your haste to get away from that and you´ve actually managed to fully emerge from under the bed and you keep crawling backwards because what else can you do there´s no time and fuck! your feet are touching the wall now, hands pushing against the ground to straighten up only to stumble and plonk! onto your butt, back against the wall now and-

It´s still crawling towards you and it looks like something straight out of a horror movie and you really start to panic now, one leg shooting up to use your foot as a (pathetic) shield which probably isn´t the best idea considering what is crawling towards you right now because It could easily take off that foot with one bite and-

Really?

Must you be difficult right in this moment? Usually, Maggot Momma would be more than happy to have you squirming and struggling against her, trying to defy her - her perfect, rebellious Drama Queen - but Maggot Momma has had more than enough of that today. That scum is finally rotting in hell for what it did - looking at and touching and harming what is HERS and if that creature has wounded you-

Your ankle is grabbed and It´s going absolutely crazy - sniffing like a hound that´s picked up on a scent, starting with the foot It has a very tight grip on and going up up up your leg before descending again to do the same with your other leg, coming to a stop right where the other It has manhandled you before, letting out a low growl, tongue slipping out and running up up up almost all the way to where your leg meets your pelvis - making you squirm - and the only thing stopping It from going even further being your rather short shorts-

And continuing to climb up your body - Its other hand digging into the floor to keep Itself grounded - and nose coming to rest there now which seems to slow things down for a moment-

...and another moment-

-before It´s on the move again, sniffing up your stomach and - oh, oh my - in between your breasts, nose stopping right where you can feel your heart beating out of your chest and lingering there for quite a while before the hand that´s been gripping your ankle moves up to take a hold of your wrist, pulling your arm towards It and you let It because you quite like breathing and Its nose is continuing its journey, sniffing your hand and up up up your arm, across your collarbones - pushing your head up and out of the way - and down your other arm until It reaches your hand, pressing the side of Its face - the torn side - against it and you swear It´s started to purr-

It seems calmer now, more relaxed, and you can´t seem to take your eyes off It - almost mesmerized - and you blame the utter carnage that went down minutes ago because that´s surely fried most (if not all) of your nerves along with some of your braincells it seems but it´s like being witness to a horrible accident where one doesn´t want to look but, at the same time, just can´t bring themselves not to look and you´ve just never seen It so...tame before and you´re actually touching It in what might seem an affectionate way to anyone witnessing except your hand is literally touching sinew and bones and there´s blood and saliva and other fluids (you don´t wanna know) all over your hand now and that does make your stomach churn a bit, reminding you of the situation at hand which is-

Save save save you´re save and whole and hers and whole she´s made sure of that - that scum is with the maggots now - and only seconds later and she doesn´t know what she´d have done because you were meant for her now and forever and if anyone, anything tries to prevent what was foretold by the dark gods - that you belong to her and with her until the end of time and-

Torn face finally leaving your hand but remaining pressed against you, sinew and bones sliding up up up your arm and leaving smears of black and other fluids behind and you think It looks absolutely deranged - like It´s trying to get high on you - and It has reached your neck now and seems to deflate, eyes nearly falling shut, pressing you against the wall and that purring is back for all of two seconds before-

Eyebrows furrowing, hands coming up to rest on either side of your head, claws digging into the wall, nose going crazy once more, running up and down your neck before wandering along your throat to the other side and you almost, almost muster up the courage to ask if It´s-

Looking for something?

But then, suddenly, It freezes. Nose coming to a stop again right where It has left Its slobber before and even you can smell that foul stench now that must be all over you from It licking you, tasting you and-

Defiling you, soiling you, marking what is hers and-

Are these...?

Maggot Momma´s been so busy fretting over you - smelling you all over, desperate, to be absolutely certain no harm has come to you - that she completely neglected getting a good look at you.

But once she does-

She wishes she hadn´t.

Maggot Momma is shaking, vibrating with rage and anguish because she´s reminded yet again that she´s failed - by a hair's breadth - and just a few seconds sooner and she wouldn´t be looking at the proof of her failure which is-

A clawed hand wrenches out of the wall - taking bits and pieces with it - and moves to hover over your neck and for the first time since you´ve found your way into her territory - your home - Momma doesn´t dare touch you because It has left Its trace clear as day because she´s failed and she´s trembling with rage, afraid she´s gonna snap your neck if she so much as lays a finger on you because-

There´s blue that´s turning more and more black as time goes on and it´s all over your neck and it´s agony because Maggot Momma can make out every single one of that scum´s greedy fingers, can see exactly where they´ve been placed to squeeze and choke and just the thought of one of those claws pricking delicate skin makes her want to scalp herself, gouge her eyes out because a small nick would be enough to-

Has It died on you? Because It sure looks the part - frozen, completely rigid, breathing has ceased to exist - and there´s been total silence for quite a while now and you´re completely on edge, expecting something to happen any moment now and maybe you should start trusting your gut instinct more because-

BAM!

Clawed hand shooting up from where it´s been waiting, hovering over your throat - to do god knows what - to embed itself into the wall, the force of it sending cracks running in every direction, dust and wall fragments raining down on you and this must´ve been your third almost heart attack in 20 minutes you swear to god-

There´s ragged breathing and It´s trembling and twitching, seems to mumble and mutter something - sounding completely deranged - and Its teeth are chittering again - that clicking sound combined with the crazed chanting driving you mad - before Its head finally peels itself off your neck to rise rise rise, legs pulling up from where they´ve been entwined with yours to plant Its feet firmly onto the ground on either side of you, legs bending, knees nearly touching the wall - crouching over you now and you´re reminded yet again just how utterly long and tall It is - and Its forehead is resting against yours now, eyes closed tightly and that unhinged murmuring is still going, still twitching now and then and if someone was to walk in on you right now you wouldn´t blame them if they made a swift U-turn and legged it because you can only imagine what all of this must look like to anyone witnessing-

Black and red splattered across every surface - the floor, the furniture, the walls - and there´s limbs scattered everywhere like someone´s decided that Yes - a heap of somewhat human remains would really make this room shine and then there´s It, curving and bending around you like It´s trying to merge with you, become a part of you and that crazed chanting has toned down to a low rumbling now, its vibrations so violent you can feel them down to your very core and, suddenly, your vision is filled with bright, almost glowing yellow and a dull blue that almost looks like gray and there´s red everywhere - a ring of fire in front of an inferno - because-

Piercing eyes have opened to lock onto yours so intently it feels like they´re looking straight into your soul, like It´s trying to bewitch you, cast a spell on you because you can´t move, can´t breathe and your insides are constricting and you are powerless to do anything about it because there´s nowhere else to go, nowhere else to look because It has you cornered, demanding your full attention and-

Beautiful, mesmerizing, otherwordly you´re so perfect and so delicate and so hers but today all of that - all of you - was nearly lost because she´s let you out of her sight a mere 10 minutes. Foolish, utterly ridiculous of her to believe that bunch of misfits capable of carrying out simple orders-

～Watch, guard, don´t touch.～

But not again, never again she´s gonna be with you every second, every step, never gonna take her eyes off you ever again because now you´re whole but you were this close to being broken all because that lower creature couldn´t keep its greedy hands off you - touching and licking and befouling you - and your smell, heavens! used to be so wonderful, so mouthwatering, so her but now it´s-

...Gone, not a trace of it left because you reek of that parasite and it makes her want to puke her rotted guts out and she´s actually considering because anything, everything to wash away that stench that´s all over you, encasing you and it drives her mad, must do something, anything to-

("Lion" - Saint Mesa starts playing in the background)

Clawed hands wandering almost feverishly across your whole body, like they´re searching for something and you can´t help but be reminded of other hands almost instantly. Those hands were harsh and rough and not quite behaving like hands, feeling like they´re possessed - someone else pulling the strings - whereas these hands-

These hands are fast yet mindful - gripping with a strength that can be unpleasant at times but it feels like they´re aware of that, doing it on purpose because It seems to enjoy the sounds they evoke, which means-

These hands know how to be hands.

And one of these hands has already found that familiar place against the wall, claws digging in, preparing for-

Well, you know where this is going.

Another clawed hand closing abruptly around the soft, round flesh it´s found while roaming up and down your legs, giving it a good squeeze and it catches you so off guard that you almost, almost swat at it because - Excuse you? - and that same hand lifting you UP UP UP - jesus! - and you actually have to brace yourself against the wall, against It - just anywhere - because Its movements are so sudden, almost jerky like It doesn´t know where to start, doesn´t have any control over what It´s doing right now but now It´s got you up and at eye level - forehead pressing against yours - and these are some crazy eyes alright, looking utterly manic and Its hips are already going, wasting no time at all and not at all caring that It´s missing the target, actually rutting against the wall now and-

That crazed murmuring is back as well but this time you can actually make out some of it and it sounds more like a mantra, like chanting as one word seems to be repeated over and over and over and-

～Mine mine m-mine -ine mine m- mmh- ine mah-～

Sounding out so distorted, voice seemingly unable to stick with one pitch - going up down up down from almost chittering to demonic in seconds - and sometimes swallowing words completely - all that´s coming out then a sharp hiss or low grunt - and it feels like breathing becomes more and more difficult because It´s leaning rather heavily on you now, eyes becoming unfocused, head seemingly too heavy to hold up because it just slides off to the side and forward, pressing Its face flush against the side of your neck and fuck, teeth teeth teeth! you can feel something wet pooling there until it´s slowly running down over your collarbone and into your shirt - staining it - and you can tell this is gonna be a fast one because It seems dangerously close to being there already and-

HersHersHersHersHers you´re hers gonna make sure of it gonna make you reek of her only her now and forever and you´re never gonna be without her again, it was meant to be, was foretold she´s never gonna let you out of her sight ever again, keeping you close and by her side where you belong and if anyone anything tries to steal you from her again - challenge her - she´s gonna make it abundantly clear who´s in charge, who´s entitled to lay claim to the human that stumbled into her territory all these months ago, seemingly pulled to her like a moth to a flame, waiting for her, enticing her, yearning for her to claim you as her mate and-

Whole body tensing - becoming stiff as a board - and claws sinking into the wall like it´s butter as Its other hand clings to you for dear life - that buttock´s gonna bruise - and head thrown back to-

...That was a rather fast one and you reckon the only thing keeping the both of you from collapsing right now is the fact Its hand is still firmly lodged in the wall.

Well, that and the fact It´s nearly suffocating you because Its whole weight just collapsed forward and - Oof! - right into you, the side of Its face - the side that´s not torn thank god - coming to rest on top of your head like It´s completely overexerted Itself. So now you just kind of hang in there - face squished against Its neck - as It seems to struggle quite a bit to get Itself back under control - hips still twitching now and then, incoherent murmuring back in full force and today has been a very long day and just one moment of peace, of sanity, is that really too much to ask for?

It feels like an eternity has passed and just as you actually consider doing...something to move things along like...well, maybe wriggle about or lift a hand to very carefully swat at It or maybe you´re just gonna throw caution to the wind and bite that neck in hopes to catch It off guard, to startle It so thoroughly It´s just gonna drop you like a sack of potatoes and-

Finally, there´s movement. Head lifting from the pillow that is your head and It seems to become increasingly more aware of Its surroundings - eyes searching, zoning in on yours immediately, now as wild and piercing as ever, like a ring of fire in front of an inferno, staring into your very soul and-

...What? Do you have something on your face or-?

It´s looking at you rather expectantly - calculating yet hopeful at the same time - like It´s waiting for...something. It´s a look you haven´t seen on Its face before - almost like It´s actually, fully there and conscious and not seconds away from tearing into you and-

It´s still looking and has It even blinked at all yet? and it´s getting increasingly more uncomfortable because what does It want you´ll do anything to make It stop doing that and Its eyes can´t seem to decide which part of your face they want to rest on all of a sudden - flitting up and down, up and down, up down, up down your face and you´re brought back to the moment those eyes clapped onto you for the very first time - sizing you up, examining you, looking at you like It´s never seen a human being before, like you´re the oddity - and you really gotta stop spacing out because It seems much closer than before and keeps getting closer, eyes having found a place to rest on after all which seems to be-

Hold on, wha-

No fucking way-!

Maggot Momma can´t help herself, absolutely bewitched, mesmerized, drawn to you because - look at you, good heavens! - so perfect and whole and hers and whole she´s made sure of that and now that she´s reclaimed you, reconquered you as any worthy mate should she feels absolutely intoxicated, overcome with a need to do...something, anything to further strengthen and solidify the bond you two share and-

She knows it - she knows she does - it´s on the tip of her tongue, can almost taste what needs to be done, what is usually done in moments like this and she never thought that human facade worthy of her time - serving as bait more than anything else - so useless, so pathetic like the soul previously inhabitating this human shell and she hopes Ellie rots in hell where she belongs-

But right in this moment she can recognize the value of it, can see the use of a mind wired quite differently - plain, simple, ordinary - and it pains her to admit because she´s so much more than that, far superior to that, but what she wouldn´t give for a simple, ordinary mind right now because she´d know what to do in a heartbeat, so sure of it, even her eyes seem to know because it´s instinct-

Her body urges her to do something, anything - eyes locked onto the part of you that sings for her so sweetly, making the most wonderful sounds just for her and she´s close so close can almost taste it, taste you and it´s on the tip of her tongue, she´s this close to remembering she can feel it - something to do with saliva, of that she is certain and-

Oh...Oh!-

Yes, of course-!

You don´t know what you were expecting (you know exactly what you were expecting) but it surely wasn´t for that maw to open (you fear you´ll never get used to that aroma) and it surely wasn´t for a long, long tongue to come lolling out and what you sure as hell were not expecting was for that long, long tongue to glue itself to you - starting at the underside of your chin and - very slowly, almost in slow motion - going up up up over your chin, your lips and - thank god you remembered to close your mouth that´s been standing open from the sheer insanity of it all - reaching your nose and trying to wander into it only to come to the seemingly devastating realization - if the sounds are anything to go by - that not all holes are meant for tongues and, having to accept defeat (for now), the slippery muscle continues its way up and over your nose and-

...Going back a bit because Momma´s sure so sure it´s something to do with that part - prodding and poking at it like she´s trying to find the hidden lever that´ll open the treasury - only to have to accept defeat again because-

Nope, no way, hell to the no-

...Wet muscle reluctantly continuing its journey - over your nose again, between your eyebrows and all the way up to your hairline where It seems to pause for a moment, taking a deep breath and-

Almost sneezing in disgust because you still reek of that creature, that filthy rat and this will not do Maggot Momma won´t tolerate it because you´re hers alone she´s gonna make sure of it, gonna let everyone everything in and out of this cursed building know-

More, you need more of her-

Its tongue is going crazy now - running all over your face like you´re a popsicle and It´s burning alive - and It´s back to making the most unhinged sounds - clicking and hissing and rumbling that seems to reverberate through your whole body - and no matter how hard you try there´s no escaping that ridiculously long tongue because it simply follows wherever you go and-

Today has been a long day with way too many different bodily fluids when all you wanted was a moment of peace, of sanity and you don´t know how you´re gonna manage, don´t know how to distract It long enough to actually make it but you´re determined and even if you die trying you´re gonna risk it all because one thing´s for certain-

You need a bath.

(And you swear that face looked worse before.)

#evil dead rise #maggot mommy #deadites #alyssa sutherland #evil dead rise...but gayer #ellie bixler

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sukunasbabygirl · 10 months

Text

A few sweet things about Lynn and Adam‘s relationship in the Mother Mary AU:

- As a kid, Adam had a stuffed dragon that Lynn had made herself for him with the intent of making him feel safe at night. But, Adam didn’t scare easily as a child, and so, more often than not, Lynn would wake up to find Armageddon (name chosen by Adam) at the foot of her bedroom door, guarding her. If she tries to bring it up to Adam now, he will deny ever doing it, insisting that the dragon moved by itself.

- Adam shares a love of horror movies with his mother: Lynn’s favourite is Nightmare on Elm Street and Adam’s favourite is the Blair Witch Project. They have a lot of lighthearted disagreements about the best horror tropes and the most iconic horror characters.

- Baking is something else they share a love for. Adam began helping his mum with cakes and the likes when he was seven, usually just weighing out ingredients or passing her stuff but, as the years have passed, he’s gotten incredibly good at baking by himself, and it’s typical of them to host their own mini bake off when they have the time.

- Lynn was insistent on keeping a height chart for Adam, something to add to every year or half a year depending. Looking at it makes her feel that bittersweet kind of nostalgia, especially seeing her son shoot up past her. She still has no idea where he got his height from, because it certainly wasn’t from her and it certainly wasn’t from Jude.

- When he was younger, Lynn would have to crouch down to kiss her son’s forehead before he went off to school, now, she has to be on her tiptoes to reach him, and god forbid she do it in public, he’ll start trying to shove her away (he tries and fails to hide his smile)

- If you could not tell he is a momma’s boy through and through. That’s his mum and if you talk shit about her then you better start running.

- Music plays a big role in their relationship as well, and almost all of his music taste came from his mother and the kind of songs she’d put on in the mornings, singing to them with a hairbrush. His love for Radiohead? That’s on her. Bon Jovi as well is another one (maybe based on the fact that’s a band I love because of my own mum so. Bon Jovi be upon them.) This love of music is also why he and Jonah became friends!

That’s about it for now. I had more, however I cannot formulate the words for them right now, perhaps I shall later.

Mother and son be upon ye!

#the mandela catalogue #tmc #tmc au #mother mary au #lynn murray #adam murray #I’m. very normal about them

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thisambiguousone · 10 months

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OC from my litRPG Hell of a System

Geram does not lack confidence, that's for sure.

Reluctant hero trope meets eager for revenge trope meets momma's boy meets i-don't-understand-how-family-works-but-somehow-found-myself-in-one.

Art by g_djungarian!

OC from my litRPG Hell of a System. Check it out if you're interested:

The best way to come back from the dead is stronger than before. Geram Vulros vows to kill his family for their part in his mother’s death, but he’s killed by a demon possessing his father before he can. Except instead of dying, he unlocks the [Hidden Slayer] class, giving him the power of a demon core. Of cultivation. There is a larger plot at play here—by demons and other forces that are beyond him. But all that means is that he has a demon invasion to get out of his way. Then his father and brother both will pay. What to expect: - MC slays - Big level ups, big power scale - Slow burn demon core cultivation(s)

#fantasy #illustration #art #geram #hell of a system #litrpg #web serial #demon slayer #progression fantasy #books #read online #oc #oc art #original character

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bbygirl-aemond · 1 year

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Characters' Heights in Stormbreak

Hi hi! I got a question about how tall everyone was and I realized I do actually have very specific opinions about this haha so I figured I'd list out the heights I'm imagining everyone as in the fic. I'm basing this partly off of the actors with known heights, but I also like the idea that Valyrians tend to be taller than other races and that Strongs tend to be, well, big and strong. :)

First, let's start with the Strong Boys:

Jacaerys will be 6'2" when fully grown (idk how to explain this one it's such a Jace height like he's tall enough to warrant admiration but not so tall he's intimidating)

Lucerys will be 6'3" when fully grown (sweet gentle giant Luke is my dream do you see the vision)

Joffrey will be 6'0" when fully grown (wanted to keep the feral little gremlin vibes his younger actor has which I adore)

Now let's go to the Velaryons:

Corlys is 6'3" (Steve Toussaint is huge)

Rhaenys is 5'10" (like Eve Best)

Baela will be 5'10" when fully grown (like her grandma to emphasize the parallels between them)

Rhaena will be 5'9" when fully grown (like Laena's actress, since Baela says she resembles her mother)

Next, the rest of the Blacks:

Daemon is 6'1/2" (like Matt Smith but a teensy bit taller)

Rhaenyra is 5'10" (I know Emma D'Arcy is a bit shorter but I love me some tall Targ women okay?)

Aegon will be 6'0" when fully grown (just like his daddy)

Viserys will be 5'10" when fully grown (more in between his parents' heights)

And finally, the Greens:

Otto is 6'2" (Rhys Ifans is a giant)

Alicent is 5'5"" (she's pocket sized, y'all)

Criston is 5'10" (average, but cute height difference with Alicent)

Helaena is 5'8" (her momma is short so she's not as tall as other Targ women, but she's still part Targ)

Aemond is 5'11.5" (listen it's so funny if he's less than an inch shorter than Daemon. Do you know how much Daemon will lord it over for him. Also being a full 3.5" shorter than Luke will break him)

Daeron will be 6'1" when fully grown (tall like his grandpa to emphasize the mad genius parallels, also I love the big-little-brother trope)

Aegon is 5'10" (like Tom Glynn-Carney, but also it's funny to make the eldest brother the shortest one)

Jaehaerys will be 5'10" when fully grown (like his daddy)

Jaehaera will be 5'8" when fully grown (like her momma)

Maelor will be 6'0" when fully grown (again, big little brother vibes)

Only height(s) we're missing might be Aemond and Rhaenyra's kid(s)...

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willel · 2 years

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Unfortunately, I still hear whispers saying "People just copy all of El's traits onto Will" and it bothers me endlessly. YOU DON'T GET IT. AT ALL. And you'll probably never read this, but I'm going to type it out anyway.

The point is NOT to copy El's traits onto Will! The point is that Will ALREADY has a lot in common with El! TVTropes is not an official source, but have you looked at their trait list? They've been mirror each other since season 1! Their similarities only become more obvious as each season progresses.

Let's look at some and you tell me if it's really that ridiculous to point out how similar they are.

Beware the Nice Ones: Will is a polite, sweet kid. However, the very first episode shows that when he was threatened by an unknown entity, he immediately ran into a shed to load a gun, and then point it in the direction of said entity. Beware the Nice Ones: Her sweet natured and mellow personality is genuine, but so is the fiery temper she has deep down; push her too far and this girl will not hesitate to melt your brain with a literal Death Glare. Also overlaps with Beware the Quiet Ones.

Does "Beware the Nice Ones" seem ridiculous to you? Does this seem like something someone just made up for the sake of ships or to copy El's traits onto Will? If you want to get logical here, Will's example came before El's did in the show, not that it matters because IT ISN'T COPYING, it's just similar.

Heroic Sacrifice: His D&D character, "Will the Wise", performs a heroic sacrifice during their game in the first episode, a fact which Mike uses to convince his friends to continue the search for Will even when it gets dangerous. He was also willing to die in order to close the gate on the Mind Flayer. Heroic Sacrifice: In "The Upside-Down", El, already exhausted from repeated use of her powers to protect Mike, Lucas, and Dustin, finds herself faced with the Demogorgon about to kill her friends. In response, she pins it against a wall before disintegrating it, but seemingly dies herself in the process. She's Not Quite Dead, though, and returns in Season 2.

They both made a pretty important heroic sacrifice, thinking they were giving up their lives to help their friends and family. Are we gonna pretend like they DIDN'T do that? Even Hopper has his heroic sacrifice moment. We gonna pretend like he didn't because it'd be "copying El"???

Daddy's Girl: She becomes this in Season 2 to Hopper after a year living together, some healthy, plentiful bickering, and her going "runaway-train" on him. When he ends up (apparently) dying in Season 3, she is utterly devastated. Momma's Boy: If having your head screwed-on enough to survive what he goes through, partly thanks to how Joyce has raised him to keep going in a physical and emotional crisis by seeking support, is being a Momma's Boy, then his dad is right.

Season 2 played these tropes so clearly. Every scene that Joyce had with Will was pretty much mirrored with Hopper and El. You know what happens right after that scene where Joyce catches Will in a lie, gets him to confess, and has him crying in his arms? It switches right to Hopper being the opposite of Joyce and not handling the situation well, resulting in El tossing stuff around and crying in her room.

Even at the end of the season, we get Joyce hugging Will so tightly after that terrible ordeal. It's followed by El hugging Hopper after using all her strength to close the gate. Will and El are hugging their parents in the exact same way, on the same shoulder and everything. Guys please. IT'S NOT COPYING, IT'S ON PURPOSE.

Nice Guy: Even though Will spends most of Season 1 trapped in the Upside-Down, he is still shown to be an honest and kind person. Before his taking in the first episode, he admits to Mike that the former's roll landed on a seven and finished him off in their D&D game. When he's rescued and hospitalized near the end of Chapter 8, one of the first things he does when he wakes up is ask if his brother is okay when he sees Jonathan's bandaged hand. Nice Girl: She has a strong sense of right and wrong, even when she has been almost completely socially deprived for most of her life. She also lacks malicious intent and does her best to help and protect her friends, though she goes overboard a couple of times.

If anyone tries to argue Will and El aren't good sweet kids and that this is just "copying El", then you're just straight up completely wrong. They've always been nice, good, and sweet. BOTH OF THEM. Yes, they have their moments, but so does literally everyone else.

The Quiet One: Not to the same extent as El, but he's definitely on the quiet side. The only times he talks at length are when he's around his closest friends and family or when he's being asked about the Mind Flayer; otherwise, he usually hangs back and lets other people do the talking. The Quiet One: Given her upbringing, she's a quiet girl, usually talking only when spoken to and during times of conflict, often preferring hand gestures to get her point across. She's more vocal in Season 2, which in no small part seems to be due to being around Hopper for nearly a year and picking up a lot more vocabulary from him. By the beginning of Season 3, Eleven can talk like a normal girl her age, though she tends toward the terse side, and she sometimes struggles with pronunciation. However, she struggles to articulate herself when stressed, and nearly becomes mute when interrogated by police in Season 4 which… does not help her case with them.

Like... come on. Are you really about to pretend like Will and El aren't the super quiet ones of the group??? You really think this is just "copying El's traits onto Will"??

Trauma Conga Line

Not even gonna copy and paste that one, it's two long for both of them and UNDENIABLY TRUE FOR BOTH.

Unwitting Instigator of Doom

Another undeniably fact that they both caused some oopsies with the Upside Down shennanigans. First it was El. Then it was Will. Then it's El again in season 4. Who knows, maybe it'll switch back to Will again. Either way, IT APPLIES TO BOTH OF THEM and HAS applied to both of them since at least season 2.

For now, I will leave it there. I did not include all of them, nor do I feel inspired to compare the tropes that are very similar for the sake of this essay. I did it in the past and maybe I'll do it again in the future.

It's not a theory that they're similar. It's not something fans are doing because "misogyny" or "because ships". It's literal. It's official. This from the Duffers:

In the episode, Will unveils his painting from Volume 1 and explains the complexities of El and Mike's feelings for each other. To Mike, he's talking about Eleven (Millie Bobby Brown), but for Will, Jonathan (Charlie Heaton), and the audience, we can see that he's also talking about himself. The Duffer Brothers both wrote and directed these final two episodes, and through this scene, in particular, they use a variety of camera angles to create a sense of duality on top of Will's speech.

source: https://collider.com/stranger-things-season-4-will-byers-speech-car-scene-sexuality-duffer-brothers-comments/

Ignoring the shipping aspects of this (for the love of god PLEASE focus on the characters here), they are creating a duality between Will and El on purpose.

Will and El are MEANT to be similar, yes, even down to their love lives unfortunately. They have similar personalities. Similar interests. They're similar people, period.

Have you all never got invested in two character who are very similar interacting with each other or forming a familial bond??? Have you never enjoyed some found family??? Do you scoff at the idea of found siblings or not-actually-twins twins? Like???

I'm so confused how you see all these similarities between the characters and what they've gone through and you come away from that thinking, "You're just coping El" or "You just don't want to support a female character". ??????????

The point of them being similar is to BE SIMILAR TOGETHER. That requires TWO characters who are not identical, but SIMILAR ENOUGH.

Will and El HAVE similar trauma because of the Upside Down and the lab. Literally Will was so tired of the tests and questioning that he begged Joyce not to take him back after he that horrible experience in the field in episode 2. Even that wasn't enough to make him want to go back to that place where El was held captive for years and experienced the same stuff. Will KNOWS what it's like.

Will and El have similar personalities. We already discussed them above. Quiet. Kind. Self sacrificial. A little bit snarky when they want to be. Genuinely good kids who easily pass as siblings raised by the same mother. What, is El copying Will now cause she got some bowl cut bangs??? Of course not.

Will and El have/had similar parent dynamics. Season 2 did not spend all that time comparing and contrasting Joyce and Hopper's parenting styles for you to be like "You're just coping El and Hopper's bond." El and Hopper's bond isn't the same as Joyce and Will's bond, it's just similar! As for Hopper and Will, in season 1 and season 2 we saw Hopper step up as a protector and savior for Will, but obviously it's not quite like being a father for him. Still, it was cute that he called him "buddy", showed up to all their appointments at the lab, and carried him around while he was unconscious. Not to mention Will ALSO be paralleled with Sara in season 1 as Hopper and Joyce were trying to resuscitate him. 🙄. I almost take back what I said, Will and Hopper do have a connection, but it still isn't like El and Hopper's.

Will and El are BOTH tied to the Upside Down and the supernatural and have been since the beginning of the show. All of these similarities of theirs? All of it leads back to Henry Creel.

Yeah, I saw some people saying "You're copying El's connection to Henry!" Please sit down and listen.

Just because Will and Henry unfortunately met in 1983 does not suddenly erase all the events leading up to El yeeting Henry through that gate in 1979???? Do you think Will just took a dry erase board and washed all of that away???????? Don't you see how ridiculous that is???

It's CONFIRMED that Will and Henry are tied. We saw with our own eyes how El and Henry are tied. These three are a trifecta of crazy shenanigans that is finally coming to a head, but all you can think about is "They're just copying El"??? SIGH

The conclusion you should be drawing from this is not "Will is copying from El" or "Will is stealing her spotlight" or "If you like WillEl you're probably misogynist" or whatever else you're implying.

You should be realizing that Will is the backup and support El has always needed to defeat this uniquely powerful foe. Just her strength isn't enough to undo all the harm he has done. We've seen her strength and her power. It is unmatched.

But as Will once said, "Sometimes, the bad guys are smart too."

It will take more than her power this time, wouldn't be nice if you know... she had a partner who can take care of the "background noise" so that she can focus on the front lines??? Doesn't that not sound cool? Is that not a satisfying conclusion to all their similarities and parallels rather than making this about your ship wars with Michael Wheeler?

I'm asking you to think big. Think Vecna. Think plot. Think story. Think conclusions. Stop thinking small and digging your heads in the sand. You could be enjoying this story and these characters so much more if you didn't determine their worth and their story through the lense of your ships.

I'm asking people to stop saying WillEl is the equivalent of copying El or being misogynist. I'm asking people to stop using WillEl for their ships. Let them be individuals who can come together to defeat the big bad and live happily ever after with their family, friends, and loved ones.

#stranger things #will byers #el hopper #willel #analysis #sorry I ranted again #I am legit so.....#so angry #I think it's ok to say I'm angry now #because things are just getting worse and it's legit pissing me off #I don't get why people are like this #how did they watch season 4 and get WORSE???#people say that willel hug and were like #'gasp el hugs people that means will is copying her' that's how silly they sound to me ok #and the whole misogynist angle is even more stupid #I WANT EL TO HAVE A BROTHER LIKE HER AND A FAMILY WHO CAN SUPPORT HER SUPERNATURAL NEEDS #is that so wrong???#wth??????#I did not wait allllllllllll these years for willel moments for people to be trying to tear them apart like this

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