#Corn Wife... <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[nekosartdump]

C O R N

She's my favorite so far :-3

(Progress under the cut)

[rainbow-sunshine-unicorn]

Still thinking about how Anthony’s lapel pin

Has this exact colour scheme, down to the purple and emerald green

Some husbands try to match their outfits to their wife’s, and then there is Anthony Bridgerton, who believes in paying homage to his wife’s entire look, including her accessories

[dalvs-wife]

the cornyletterisms came back..... + played around with a new dalv design I RLYYY LIKE THE BAT NOSE IM NOT GONNA SUPPRESS IT ANYMORE!!! I LIKE THE BAT NOSE

[zstartrixxx]

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 '𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐔, 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍'.

ʳᵉᵐᵐᶦᶜᵏ ˣ ᵛᵃᵐᵖꜝʷᶦᶠᵉ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: 𝐘𝐄𝐒 | 𝐍𝐎

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: If being loved by a vampire means carrying eternity within you, what you have with Remmick is incarnate: his poison lives in your flesh, you are blood of his blood, a creature of his making. And because you are a part of him—a fragment that broke free and passed into you, sometimes even a sliver of his ancient soul trapped inside that dead body—everything you feel, he feels, and vice versa. Fleeing the imminent extinction of these lands, you and Remmick seek refuge in each other once more, bound together. Eternally, for he would never let you sever this tie—unless he were dead. Past and future memories knot inside you. Here, now—all blood and teeth—you fuse with your maker, your sacrament, your eternal groom. 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: this particular piece was a deeply interesting and special writing experience for me: not only did i get to explore the hivemind concept, but i also played more freely with language and the essence of remmick as a character. so let me make one thing clear: it’s never my intention to distort the film’s canonical portrayal, but rather—through poetic license combined with the possibilities of fanfiction’s universe, PLUS the way i’ve absorbed and interpreted the character—my version of remmick (at least in my fics) might not be as literal as the original script. that said: here we have this scenario with a wife, which i initially imagine takes place before the film’s events, but the specifics of when, how, and where she was transformed are entirely up to your interpretation (before his arrival in the us in 1911? somewhere between the early or late middle ages? the modern era? europe, asia, or africa... let your imagination run wild ;) i’ve also paraphrased/incorporated certain very specific lines and moments from the film. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: +16 CONTENT. i think there's a lot of angst here and reader melancholy, so keep that in mind. use of some words in gaelic, i had to resort to good old google, if there is something wrong please tell me. remmik here it's (super) protective, almost toxic; hivemind concept explored, lots of internal dialogue, some gore (explicit description of blood and bruises), vampirism (blood consummation), and a slight sexual innuendo thrown in. 𝐖𝐂: 6k for whoever is going to read it, a great read! <3 likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

𝖱𝖤𝖬𝖬𝖨𝖢𝖪 𝖯𝖫𝖠𝖸𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖳 | 𝖬𝖠𝖲𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖳

"turn to me, and love me like you lacerate; just hold me down like i don’t need air." (air, shedfromthebody)

Your skin burned like Hell itself, which was kind of funny to think about: back when you were human, you loved spending your days under the hot sun, lying on the grass in the late afternoon and gazing up at the cloudless sky, where strange shapes would form just for you. You wasted away the days at the lake, naked, floating between water and sunlight, between cold and heat, simply existing.

Now, all you could feel was the searing pain ripping through your skin, sizzling in your ears like meat in a frying pan. Weak, you tried to run, but your legs wouldn’t obey, and your feet tangled with every step across the dry land, scattered with dead corn leaves. The rustle of the leaves irritated you, but what truly drove you mad were the screams echoing from behind, drowning out any coherent thought, merging with the heavy air that entered your lungs that no longer breathed. And that felt like a death sentence: not only the sun was paralyzing you, but also the distorted sounds that confused you, like a wounded animal, utterly disoriented.

You stopped in the middle of the cornfield, glancing around, trying to stay grounded, trying to reconnect the thread of thought between the two of you, searching through the suffocating haze for Remmick’s voice, calling him with panic and urgency, desperate for him to come save you. You looked at your shoulders: raw, scorched, smelling the acrid scent of burnt flesh rising from your own body. You shut your eyes, trying to find him, your voice lethargic: “Remmick… Remmick.”

Your vision began to darken, your body no longer felt like your own—it felt like it was floating, detaching, as if your soul—or what was left of it—was slipping out of you. Just like you’d felt a piece of yourself dying the last time you glimpsed sunlight through your human eyes, maybe ceasing to exist in that land would feel the same. All you had to do was slowly close your eyes, embrace the darkness once again, surrender to the searing fire that would extinguish you—and that would be it. You opened your eyes slowly, staring at the mighty sun before you: scorching, like your mother’s hugs, your grandmother’s kisses. Like Remmick’s grip when you were still human. Your entire body burned, tiny flames piercing through you, tears of blood trickling from your eyes. How long had it been since you felt even remotely human? All you had to do was give in, speak the one name that echoed in your mind, etched into your blood.

Remmick.

In poison and blood, within you. He was you and you were him. Remmick.

‘—Remmick, if you can hear me one last time, know that I—’

“Got you!” his voice came, rough and wounded, behind you. Firm hands grabbed you by the waist, your body partially covered by another, pressed against Remmick’s rigid frame. He whispered against your ear: “You’re safe, mo chroí (mu khree / my heart). Come with me.” He pulled you even tighter against his scorched body, shielding you like a protective shell, guiding you with quick steps into the heart of the cornfield. In the distance, the furious screams of some villagers echoed behind you. But despite the world turning into hell around you and everything seeming like the end, you felt safe in his arms.

Remmick looked back, staggering, using his sharp senses to search for any possible escape for the two of you. His left eye was swollen from the punch he took, combined with the sun’s deadly effect, and even with limited vision, he managed to find a way out from the horde chasing you.

You couldn’t stay upright. The sun’s weakness made it feel like your bones were nothing but dust beneath your scorched flesh. Tears of blood stung your eyes and soul, or whatever was trapped inside that immortal body, sharing a collective mind with Remmick and so many others before you. It longed desperately to escape this life and finally rest. But Remmick wouldn’t let that happen—oh no, let the pagan gods or the Christian God himself punish him with the harshest tortures if he did. You could feel that wrathful pain mixed with ancient rage flowing from him, harshly projected in flames and poisonous blood from him to you, as he nearly threw himself on top of you like a (scorched) leather jacket just to protect you. Madness. The voices grew longer, more indistinct, the hateful chorus fading, as Remmick, with his one good eye, searched for shelter.

Then, as if by magic, fate, or just the luck of some devil who still wanted to see you both wander through God's vast lands, there it was—a house beyond the edge of the cornfield. The perfect shelter. ‘Living food, darkness... —Remmick, don’t get your hopes up.—’ you thought back, replying to your creator’s voice with a sarcasm that didn’t quite match the moment. As always, he laughed—loudly, though the laugh came with dry, desperate gasps. He laughed. Even all fucked up, more than you, sizzling in pain and crying in despair to stay alive, he still found humor in his own misery.

“You’re getting real cheeky, huh, my little thing?”

“You’re the one who taught me to be like this, Remmy,” you managed to say, despite the bitter taste of blood rising in your throat—extremely unpleasant when it was your own blood boiling inside you. Remmick glanced over his shoulder, noticing for now that you were safe. He looked forward again, at what seemed like a mirage of a desolate wooden shack, dark, with the door and windows shut. It looked uninhabited to you. ‘—Love, don’t be so hopeless. Of course, there’ll be someone in there to be dinner. Or rather, lunch, given the time.—’ his voice cut through again, tugging you sideways, his hot and battered hand grabbing your forearm, where deep layers of your dermis were starting to show, making you let out a faint whimper. Remmick gave you an almost hurt look, immediately releasing his grip.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s fine. What’s a squeeze compared to almost melting under the sun, right?”

“You’re something else...” he muttered in disbelief, though his voice was laced with distress and anguish—a soft hint of the pain he was enduring. —If he died, you’d go with him by extension, in the worst possible way.— That was what was running through his disturbed mind, making you wonder whether you’d ever have a happy ending under those conditions. Remmick quickened his pace, and you followed beside him, feeling like the path to the house was more of a road to Hell than a material refuge. You were starting to believe it was a mirage and the Devil was waiting on the other side to welcome you both into his lap. ‘—Pathetic, darling. Pathetic.—’ ‘—Just like you, sweetheart.—’

Remmick ignored your retort, dragging himself up the steps, changing his expression as he began to shout for help. A wounded animal, fatally injured, a hoarse rasp clawing out of his throat, begging for help, pounding on the door with force. The sun’s haze was poisoning him—and therefore you—draining what little strength was left, forcing your bodies to absorb the foul smell of rotting flesh; even if your lungs didn’t breathe, they still had the cursed privilege of smelling. And even as supernatural beings, defying all human logic, you were still condemned to be inside those fragile bodies, exhaling the scent of flesh, blood, bone, thick saliva, venom, and a unique perfume your walking corpses carried. Not decay, but something more… floral? And that specific scent, like night-blooming jasmine in a graveyard or a dried rose in your garden, grew stronger as the mortal flesh imprisoning your immortal soul deteriorated.

Remmick kept pounding on the door and maybe—just maybe—with a little more effort, he’d become the first vampire to break the universal law by forcing his way in without being invited. He looked at you, distressed, his expression one of real pain. You pulled away from him, walking to a window layered in thick dust, wiping it with your palm. The cold, gritty surface scratched your sensitive skin even more. You peered inside and confirmed: ‘—There’s no one. It’s empty.—’ Remmick looked at you, almost dumbfounded, hearing your inner voice. He turned to the door, where simply twisting the doorknob opened it. The air inside was cold and stagnant, dust and mold, old wood and moth-eaten fabric, with an unwelcoming scent—but still, it carried that unmistakable smell of an uninhabited place. No human warmth or familiar energy.

Remmick was so relieved he dropped to his knees, like a devout soul who, tired of resisting sin, finally accepts divine punishment in good faith—arms open, body surrendering as he let himself fall into the house. You stood beside him, watching with a mixture of mercy for the poor wretch who was suffering, and with that sharp pain—hating, in a way, to share with him the memory and the collective sense of it all, because his pain was also yours.

Remmick crawled inside. You followed him, on your feet—weak, but standing. You looked one last time outside, toward the distance beyond the cornfield, where, by some divine mercy, those who had hunted you seemed to have gone. Just above, the burning afternoon sun pulsed like a condemning god, seated upon his sky-blue throne, mercilessly casting down his punishments upon you, poor wicked creatures.

You shut the door with a long groan, echoing the moan of the vampire now lying delicately at your feet—a strange sound between a whimper and the whine of a frightened dog. His hands were stretched above his head, face pressed to the floor, writhing from side to side, somewhere between fragile and furious at being forced into such a wretched state.

Through your mind, you could feel him tearing:

‘—These monsters will pay. As soon as the sun sets, I’ll hunt them one by one, haunt them in their homes, show them my wrath and my cruelty. Blood, blood… blood.—’

Your mind was now lapsing into a time far older than you, to a moment when Remmick’s humanity had been broken by the vampire’s curse—when the strangers came and took his land, his name, his faith. His prayers were converted, and all he saw before him were silver crosses and plaster Jesuses while he was taught the Lord’s Prayer. All of it disturbed you deeply. He clung so tightly to his roots that it made you feel everything: the fire of the scorched land, the spilled blood, the faithful ones he later killed one by one, the lands devastated by plague and by gold.

You closed your eyes, trying to impose your memories over his—to interrupt the bond that was bigger than either of you. You tried to think of blooming gardens bathed in sunlight, lazy afternoons of picnics and reading under trees, nights of endless dancing and joy.

Remmick stopped thrashing. His shoulders stilled, and his whimpers faded as he was slowly filled with his own memories, gradually regaining his strength and sobriety. He propped himself up on his arms—once feeble and lethargic, with bones eroded and flesh still scorched by burns—then raised himself and looked at you, a crooked smile forming on his lips:

“You’re always taking care of me, a aingeal.” (ah ang-yal | my angel).

“I was just trying to make you stop with those nightmares disguised as memories. I’m aching all over.” Your voice was somewhat harsh, despite your weakness, as you leaned your body against the wall, between the door and the window, where dust managed to dimly filter the sunlight. You were safe from the condemnation of the light.

Remmick rested his head. A look of sadness, lit by the darkness in his pupils, stirred something in your heart that no longer beat.

“I can’t let go of who I once was… even after all these years, there are pains that scar between our flesh and our soul, binding us to them forever…”

“I know. I know—” you smiled, somewhere between honesty and levity, trying to stay upright, feeling your body pulse and bleed, crying for healing. Remmick was in considerably better shape than you, even in his sorry state—his cotton shirt filthy with mud and dust, torn and bloodied from burned flesh; his pants tattered, shoes worn through, one bruised eye set into cadaverous skin with a polished hunger. He was enduring. The dark gifts made him far stronger than you. “—I’m just not in the best condition to relive those pains with you, not when mine are a little too real right now.”

Remmick nodded, drinking in your words, staring at you with glowing, coppery-red eyes—dim yet luminous—finally seeing your pain. His face twisted with worry and a flicker of anger as he staggered closer:

“Mo ghrá geal” (muh grah gyahl | my bright love), “they really hurt you, didn’t they…”

Then, Remmick recalled the grim scene when one of the townsfolk had found your hiding place—a house just as old and decrepit as the one you now sheltered in. The two of you were lying there together, side by side, entwined like tragic lovers, waiting for death—and maybe that had been part of the attraction, for just a few more seconds in that eternal rest, and you would have had a truly tragic end. Remmick remembered the moment the light from a blocked-out window was smashed through and the burn that followed. He opened his eyes instantly. You were still locked in your unshakable sleep when they grabbed you by the arms. He had fought men wielding torches and harvest tools. Then you saw it through his eyes: your body being pulled away—a blur. And you felt his fear and desolation as he fought off the frantic villagers to try and save you.

Then the man’s voice rang out again, clear and strong, a wounded hand touching your face with surprising gentleness:

“We almost didn’t make it out of there… If it had been closer to sunset, not a single one of those bastards would’ve made it—”

“Remmick.” His name traced your lips and tongue, thorny like the man himself. “They’re not to blame for acting the way they do—just like we, flawed murderous animals, once acted. They too have the right to want to destroy us. Wasn’t it you who taught me that human truth? That’s how we lived before we perished. That’s how we’ll go on existing, as long as we do.”

“Existing.” He clicked his tongue, and a sudden shadow passed through his eyes. For a second, his mind grew too clouded for you to read, to hear—but the visceral rage boiling in his venomous blood, oh, that you felt, bitter as it burned your dry throat. Dryness began to crack your lips. It weakened your warm body even more and made you feel the dark delusions start to crawl through the corners of your mind; that’s what happened when you weren’t fed—no matter how exceptional your self-control was, and even if you could resist without the human liquor for days, when you were in that state of true death, your body nearly collapsed.

Remmick dragged his pitiful, suffering gaze across your face. Around your minds, words in ancient Gaelic spun like ancestral chants—he was thinking about something beyond you.

His hand slid up to your face, grabbing your hair from behind, gripping it as he gently pulled it back, exposing the soft, burned, but still velvety skin of your neck. The cradle of your sacred blood—from where he had once drawn your human warmth into himself and given you, in return, the venom that turned you into him. And even though your heart no longer beat as before, when he first heard it, and your blood wasn’t warm enough to quench his thirst anymore, it was the vampire’s opium.

Remmick always thought of that comparison when he grazed his fangs lightly against your skin before penetrating it to anesthetize himself in your ecstasy:

‘—Your blood was sweet and warm when your heart throbbed between your ribs. But now, with my lymph and the poison of my being, it tastes better—bittersweet, undead. Our blood.—’

It made you moan and whimper.

Your hands pressed against his chest, palms open, trying to push him away from you:

“Remmy, are you sure about this?” you looked at him uncertainly, trying to find in him the assurance for the act.

Remmick didn’t answer you with words—not the kind spoken aloud:

“As weak as we are, there’s no one here, my love. Either we drink from each other, or we die like strays in this godforsaken place. Feed on my blood before you cease to exist…”

It wasn’t a request anymore by the time he was already pulling you closer to expose your neck, pressing his rough lips and sharp teeth against you, piercing the skin like needles.

Remmick held onto this belief that he didn’t need to ask much of you, because as you were one mind, everything he wanted was what you desired too.

Your eyes closed as you felt your flesh torn by his fangs—hard against your skin, like a stiff piece of leather being pierced by a sharp knife—until it reached where the blood, crawling weakly through your body, began to emerge in thick sobs, filling his mouth with your syrupy, bloody liquor. You were consumed by the burning and the sensation of ecstasy the act gave you, your body floating in the hands of the man who groaned with primal pleasure at being nourished by your life source.

Remmick also held the belief that since you carried his seed—that divine-profane gift of eternal life within your blood—through the consummation of acts and the laws of an ancient soul, you were part of a whole that pulsed with life. His life, yours, and those who would come after you both, all connected through that cursed and blood-stained lineage.

You squirmed restlessly in his hands. His claws were already out, tangled in your hair, scratching your waist as he held you as close as possible, bound to his pleading kiss.

Remmick whispered to you in thought:

“Mine, mine, mo mhianta (muh vee-an-tah / my desire), my life, my blood…”

—like a prayer, a rosary he recited bead by bead, his body burning as he inevitably felt his venom enter you. 

“Remmick—” your voice was pure wine of death, your nose the iron scent of flesh, your mind a stupor of souls that preceded you, strange voices you had learned empirically, faintly recalling the vampire Remmick who crushed you between teeth and acid; “—I think that’s enough, my love.”

Remmick let out an exasperated groan that vibrated against your mark, sucked a final portion of blood vigorously, licked the flesh slowly, then rose, revealing his face intact and free of wounds, his chin smeared with your crimson iron honey, eyes shimmering like copper pearls between iron and bloodlust. He smiled at you—there was heavy panting from paused lungs, a fresh breath, an almost spiritual renewal of his being.

“You are so delicious, blood of my blood, that it’s impossible not to want to drain your last blessed drop.”

He laughed—cursed and amused—raising his wrist to his own lips, biting it as if biting a pomegranate that exploded between his teeth, flesh and juice dripping at the corners of his mouth already stained with your blood; he extended his open wrist to you like bread to the dying, an offering to his god, waiting with generous eyes burning in the insane passion of his soul for yours.

His mouth salivated with the yearning to take it for himself, to drink from that wine that intoxicated you once and every time you drank it—in nights of lust where you feasted on the delights of the flesh, it intoxicated you.

There were sparks in your chest that burned from Remmick’s venom in your body, making you remember when he took you for himself, forever; Remmick appeared like a chorus behind you, chasing you through the darkness of forests and ancient buildings, ruins of nights wandering without meaning, inviting you to let him enter you repeatedly, giving him what he wanted, feeding the beast with your youthful joy, the beating heart—that which he had lost centuries ago, perhaps millennia. Life.

And once, proving that his love for blood and pain was greater than all lust or pleasure given to you, he offered you his ultimate love: he penetrated you with teeth and curses, buried memories imposed on you, suffocating you, watching you die before him, rot like a flower once beautiful and vibrant, now dry and hardened. Watching you rise with bright eyes and his bestial thirst, laughing and dancing with him, celebrating your new self. Or was it a piece of him, while you were trapped between so many layers of the one who created you?

And yet there you were, looking at him with veneration and anguish, taking his wrist with your misshapen fingers, claws that extended in excessive knots, placing your mouth against the torn hole that poured that offering of his flesh.

Oh, Remmick had your flavor too.

Sweet death he exhaled, primal sex and poisoned wine.

Feeding you slowly, bringing through that damned mortal sap your salvation.

You felt yourself revive, whining softly against his wrist, looking with complicity as Remmick watched you with the pleasure of pleasures on his face: parted lips, arched brows, eyes sparkling with desire and ardor. You smiled back, returning that passion, a hiss escaping from his mouth, pleasure bending between the memories shared through blood. His mouth detached from the bite’s embrace, a dull snap of flesh pulling away, the vampire’s blood dripping in sticky, thick drops like a whip on the wooden floor, a small pool of that iron blood separating you both.

He tilted his head back, satisfied, with a jubilation of pearl-ruby teeth, saying full of himself:

“Now we’re better!” He laughed between his teeth, while you felt his blood slide through you, healing the stigmata on your skin, slowly and pleasurably renewing you—him crawling between your bones and flesh, burrowing deeper into you as he pierced you with those eyes.

Remmick drew closer, your hands returned to normal, fingers caressing your now-soft skin, leaning down to kiss your lips with the sweetness of his honey staining them crimson, whispering through your mind:

‘—All we need now is rest, and once night falls, we can celebrate this moment together.—’

Eternal promises. As always, typical of him.

You welcomed him with open lips, tongue caressing his, you and he merging—blood and saliva, venom and the growls from the depths of your thirsty throats, your hands tangling into each other, desperate grips of bodies that loved each other through finite eternity.

…

In your dreams — or in that cathartic state of complete darkness of rest — all you had in your mind were the outlines of dreams of humans who had wandered through the eternities beside Remmick. You were a peasant in Irish lands, an English priest with golden teeth, a mathematician in Arabia, a physician from Prussian soil, a single mother prostituting herself in the streets of Whitechapel; everything and everyone. You were a pagan elder turned faithful parish priest. A hopeful young woman turned the vilest of executioners. Everything and everyone — and him.

Him.

Emerging in red, blue, purple, and black, from the shadows, blood dripping from his chin, stealing souls and stories like a devoted collector, a historian digging through pages and pages for what might fill his own gaps. Remmick pulled you by the hand like a savior — or a beast. That blurred in the shadows and forms, as he brought you into the light.

The light of consciousness, of being awake, of knowing night had finally fallen and you could once again wander among humans.

You opened your eyes with a sharp blink, seeing through a timid penumbra lit by a single candle — who knows where the hell Remmick had found it — exhaling, while he gently caressed your face, the tip of his finger tapping lightly against your nose, a serenity on his face that, under the warm golden light, almost seemed human. You smiled, rubbed your eyes, and let out a vocal exhale — a human habit you’d kept not to feel so detached from your nature — wetted your lips, surprised by the nudity of the man sitting at your side on that old bed, hard mattress, rickety frame that had served perfectly for your rest.

At the window, beyond the drawn curtain, a few wooden planks nailed to keep sunlight out were now opened, allowing the pale-silver glow of a Full Moon to shine on you. Between the bluish-gray mingling with the candle’s yellow-red, his slender and muscular body — shaped by the years when he was just a man of the land, using his bare strength — stood naturally before you.

His face, smiling at you tenderly, was damp, drops of water clinging to his nose, ears, and chin. A scent of dried flowers and soap wafted from his pale skin. His voice was soft:

“Come with me, a aingeal,” (ah ang-yal | my angel), “let’s take a bath to wash off this infernal day.”

Laughter spilled from both your mouths — irony mixed with ease — as his hand gently pulled you up, guiding you barefoot across the wooden floor, echoing down a narrow hallway toward what must have been the bathroom. Remmick nodded toward the wooden bathtub. Beside it, atop a chair, several candles were stuck upright with their own melted wax, casting a flickering light beside the moonlight that poured silver through the window.

“I cleaned it a bit before using, fetched some water from the well, and luckily found some flowers and a dried-up bar of soap lying around. Seems like the people who lived here left in a hurry — there’s still canned food and clothes in some closets. Let me help you!”

He placed the candle on the chair and undressed you, slipping off your dress and tossing it aside, smiling at your nudity, placing his hands at your waist as if admiring a statue sculpted by his own hands — a creation of his creation.

“Sit down. I’ll bathe you...” he said in a velvet tone, guiding your body into the cold water, which wrapped around your skin as he began to rub it with water, fragrant flower petals, and diluted soap.

And there you sat, still, watching him care for you — though you knew well what he was thinking.

‘—The hunt, the revenge against those who inflicted pain on us and—’

“Remmy…”

Your hand found his, pulling him from the depths of his thoughts, gripping the hand that tended to you, “...stop, at least for now. Just think of something else.”

“What else could I possibly think about?”

“In other things, I don’t know, think about music, about dance, about me...”

“I don’t need to think about those things because they’re already in me, darling. It’s almost a pleonasm, as that old professor we ate once said, remember?”

“The one we ate? What an absurd thing to say!”

“Sweetheart, seriously?” Remmick tilted his head to the side, a mischievous little smile playing on his lips. He stopped rubbing the dried blood off his neck to look at you with cynicism. “You, of all people, who loves sinking your teeth into those juicy necks that show up for us!? You, blood of my blood, my own creation, poison of my poison who...” he paused, narrowing his eyes, his voice coming out in a thin whisper, “loves sinking those pretty little teeth of yours into the most unusual places!?”

A daring finger touched your lips, slipping between them, lightly scraping your canine with its nail. You stared at him calmly, studying him in that unashamed nakedness, amused by you. Rolling your eyes, you pushed his hand away from your mouth.

“Pathetic. That’s what you are sometimes.”

“I love you too, my darlin’.” He chuckled through his teeth, returning to wiping the bloodstain from his skin, focusing on the act. Even in that silence made of voices loudly spoken, your minds were speaking through images, memories flowing back and forth in a stream of consciousness, undulating like the water that surrounded your body, tracing that eternal conversation you both had. Deep down you knew he wanted to go out hunting, to get drunk on fresh human blood, and then return to this shelter, take you in his arms and possess you in the most animalistic way possible. But on your end, you still felt his venom lingering through your body, the blood that had served as both nourishment and healing still casting a haze over your senses. Ancient blood from someone who had lived so long it carried stigmas. Strong, dense, defiled, concentrated.

Remmick finished scrubbing you, stood up from your side, and left the room, staying outside for a few minutes, leaving you immersed in the water and the moonlight. Thinking. For a moment, your mind seemed to detach from his, floating through the corridors of your own being—you saw yourself among humans, walking barefoot, feeling that burning thirst in your throat, the bile of anger tormenting you even as your melancholy made you ethereal; sucking foreign blood, capturing life stories for yourself. Remmick reached out a hand to you—a claw—with the ghastly smile of all the dead, always whispering to you: “Mo mhianta” (muh vee-an-tah / my desire), in your mother tongue. Remmick… Remmick. The one who created you and now was you too, part of your desires, part of your life, part of your soul. Would you ever be able to break away from that guiding thread? From the one who offered you both death and life? Would you be able to disconnect and be just… you?

Remmick emerged from the darkness of the house, carrying a bundle of clothes in his hands, wearing a pair of soft-fabric pants, his torso still bare. He smiled with those secrets he could hide from you between his lips:

“No, I believe that if one day you no longer belong to me, I’ll probably be dead.”

“Reading my thoughts again?”

The question was practically rhetorical, laced with a certain bitterness you couldn’t hold back. Standing before you, the vampire handed you the clothes.

“I am them. Even when you try to escape through the corners of your thoughts, I’m there.” Remmick smiled, sharp teeth glinting, a suggestion shining in his eyes like a beast ready to kill.

“Come on, love, the night is a child crying to be fed.”

“Smartass,” you hissed through your teeth, rolling your eyes. When you rose from the bathtub, your eyes suddenly caught sight of two figures approaching in the distance. Remmick didn’t even need to be warned—he was already spying from the corner of the window, his thoughts starting to hiss like a rabid wolf growling, thirsty for blood and slaughter. He turned his face toward you, a sharp smile while his eyes tiled the blood of the defeated. His tongue was a blade between needle-sharp teeth:

“We shall have a special feast, my love!”

…

The house was dark.

Its scent was of dust and stagnant wood, dry and moldy. In the background, you could catch the smell of melted wax. No noise. When that couple stepped into the house, shotguns in hand, eyes wide with fear, all they wanted was to play heroes for the little town—hunt the monsters that had been parasitizing the area and receive applause for their brave deeds. Fueled by fear and pride, they wanted to hold in their hands the heads of those two who had earlier been hunted and, for some reason, had disappeared; and there they were, in that shack abandoned for weeks—maybe months—eyeing each other with unease.

The woman said, glancing around the first room, a lantern serving as a flashlight:

“I don’t think it was a good idea to come here at night…”

“Nonsense, woman—we’ll catch those monsters before they go messing around with anyone else,” the man shrugged, walking toward the hallway, the woman right behind him—until she heard a little noise beside her, at the open door.

The man kept walking, oblivious to his wife, heading toward the back of the house, finding a side room with its door ajar—he pushed it open the rest of the way with the barrel of the shotgun, the wooden door creaking slowly, revealing a bed.

And a woman lying on it, back turned. Naked.

A shiver ran down his spine, his breath grew heavy, heart pounding against his ribs, and beyond all that, a wicked voice called him to approach her—that nest of lust and desire. Ignoring his partner, he let curiosity and depravity take over. He lowered his weapon, step by step, now close to the woman’s body, his hand trembling as it reached toward her, while the other held the lantern swaying noisily at his side, its yellow light flickering across the sleeping body.

“Have mercy on me!”

A high-pitched scream came from deeper in the house. The man startled and turned, dropping the lantern to the floor, where it shattered and sparked into flames. He raised his weapon again, spinning around—only to find a man behind him.

Eyes glowing with an inhuman red glint.

A macabre grin stained with blood painted his chin, his neck, his bare chest.

A rustle behind him made his knees weaken with fear; a cold gust of air fed the fire now licking at the wooden floor. He looked over his shoulder and saw you awake—eyes just as luminous as the monster in front of him, thick saliva dripping from your chin.

As he tried to scream, a hand clamped over his mouth—metallic blood flooded his tongue.

A tear welled up in his eye.

The vampire’s voice in front of him rasped out, bestial and raw:

“Shhhh… Shhhh… Don’t cry now. Didn’t your mother teach you it’s wrong to mess with someone else’s woman?”

And he laughed—demonic—gripping the man’s throat, nearly choking him, as you remained behind, salivating for the living blood pulsing through his arteries. Remmick looked at you from the side, tilting his head, his voice undulating between the three of you like a serpent shaking its venom:

“Darling, your wife was delicious! I hope you taste just as good for my wife!”

The man screamed with all the air in his lungs, while Remmick offered him up like an animal for ritual slaughter—offering him to you. And you took him from behind, draining him with the ease of mortality—no pity, no hesitation.

Remmick watched you with affection and admiration, something growing inside him with the euphoric pleasure of a successful hunt. When you finished draining the man, his corpse now at your feet, he held out his hand to you.

You took it, letting him lead you out of that room to the front of the house, where the open door allowed the silvery light to touch your naked body, your face covered in scarlet—just like his. Remmick cupped your face in his hands, looking at you with his soul reflected in your eyes:

“My girl, how do you feel?”

“Perfect. Just a little… overwhelmed. I think it’s the thrill of the hunt.”

“Good—” he murmured, leaning in to capture your lips in a wet, filthy kiss—saliva and blood, soft tongue brushing pearly teeth. When he pulled away, a string of bloody spit still connected your mouths.

“—'Cause now, you’ll let me take care of you, darlin’. The way you deserve.”

You felt him penetrate you through the soul, his hands pulling you close into the kiss of the dead upon your lips, speaking to you through your minds:

‘—Let me take care of you, darling, let me take care of you, let me show you how good I can be for you…—’

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: maybe it deviated a little from the initial concept of the request (idk), but this one was by far one of the fanfics with Remmy that i enjoyed writing the most, it's side-by-side with my fanfic involving priests, religion, Christian guilt, vampirism, remmick and other little things…

[eclairemaire]

Meeting the Missus pt. 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Wife! Reader

Category: Fluff

Summary: The Team finds out Bob is married and wants to meet the missus.

Warnings: Reader is described very similarly to Rhea Ripley, Reader and Bob are very much in love, No mention of Y/N used, Southern Reader (she's like all southern ladies sweet like iced tea, but can knock you on your ass if she has too), Express mentions of reader and Bob's Child, Lemme know if I missed any.

Word Count: 1.2K

Notes: This will be the final part of this series for now. I'm not sure how I want to continue the story. I hope everyone enjoys! If you have any requests, mine are open, and I will try to get to them. Enjoy!!

Everyone had started making their plates for lunch as you and Bob started to sort through what everyone brought. Nat brought hard seltzers and brownies. Payback brought a salad and a variety of dressings, and Sprite. Fanboy brought some homemade salsa and tres leches cake, along with some Mexican Cokes. Coyote brought oven-baked Mac ‘n cheese and fruit salad. Hangman brought ribs, banana pudding, and beer. Maverick, Penny, and Amelia brought a nice bottle of wine and sparkling grape juice for the girls so they wouldn’t feel left out later. Rooster brought sugar cookies from the grocery store and various snack foods.

After finishing sorting the rest of the food and drinks, Bob goes to help Riley make her plate, and you move to turn music on, the first song being Pink Floyd’s ‘Time’ from the Dark Side of the Moon album. Before moving back into the kitchen to make you a plate, grab some ribs, smoked sausage, mac and cheese, corn on the cob, chips, and ranch dip before heading out to the back patio.

Everyone had lots of food on their plates and had started eating before you had sat down. “This is some bomb food, Mrs. Floyd. I mean, I knew the food you made was good from how Bob’s always melting into his seat at lunch, but this is on a whole other level.” Fanboy said as he took a bite out of his burger.

“Thank you, Mickey,” you say as you start to eat food off your plate.

“So, I know everyone wants to know, how did you two meet?” Hangman asked as he looked between you and Bob.

“Well, it's kind of silly.” You say, making eye contact with Bob as you move to take a sip of your drink.

“It was back when I still rode broncos in rodeos. After I graduated from high school and before I enlisted in the Navy.” He said, picking at his food.

“Wait, you actually rode broncos?” Coyote asked, his face showing his disbelief.

“Hell yes he did, damn good at it too.” You exclaim as you scoop up some mac and cheese onto your fork. “That rodeo buckle I wore the first night at the hard deck was the one he got the night we met.” 

Hangman looked so surprised, “You won at a rodeo? I’ve been to many a rodeo; those broncos are brutal.” 

“I’d been riding my whole life, I was raised on a ranch, you know,” Bob said, turning to wipe some food off Riley’s face.

“Wait, what were you doing at the rodeo?” Maverick asked as he looked at you.

“I was there looking for work. I needed a job after high school, and I’d been going to and from ranches for as long as I could remember, so it was almost a no-brainer to try and get a job that dealt with livestock.” Turning to look at Bob, you continue to speak. “My grandparents had horses when my mama was growing up; she had always ridden, and even though we didn’t live in a rural area. I was taught when I was younger, and often spent time in the barns tending the animals.”

“I saw her when she was riding one of the mechanical bulls there -” “I’d never ridden a real bull, mind you.” You interjected as Bob mentioned the mechanical bull.

“Anyway, she was the only one who could stay on longer than anybody else. She was intimidating as shit back then.”

“Back then?” Nat asked incredulously, “She’s intimidating now.”

“NO, well, yes, you are still very intimidating,” Bob fumbled as he looked from Phoenix to you. He smiled at you before continuing with the story.

“I’d never seen anybody like her before. All the women in my life, while very strong in their own ways, were always soft in comparison to my wife. None of the girls I went to school with wanted to deal with hard labour, they would rather watcha movie, paint their nails, or do their hair and makeup.” He said, looking at you with adoration.

“Granted, I didn’t want to do that forever, example A, my life now,” You say, gesturing around you to your house and towards Riley.

“She was beautiful, and as she mentioned, looking for work. My dad hired her to help out on the ranch. We met her first day when I walked up on her changing into her work clothes behind our barn.” He huffed a laugh at the memory.

“We worked together for months before I worked up the nerve to ask her out. Then I enlisted in the Navy, and she went back to her hometown for college,” he said before shoveling some food into his mouth.

“We wrote letters to each other like total dorks and met up frequently while he was on leave. When we found out I was pregnant with Riley, we got married, and he took a few months off to help me with Riley after she was born, and then he got stationed at Lemoore, and we lived out there until we came here for the special detachment.” You say, looking around at everyone, and then your gaze landed on Riley. 

“Wait, so Bob, did you marry your first love?” Payback asked.

“No, I’d dated other people during high school,” Bob answered like that was obvious.

“What about you, Mrs. Floyd?” Penny asked as she spoke up.

“Me? No, actually, when we first met,” you start pointing between yourself and Bob, “I was at that rodeo with my girlfriend. We broke up shortly after I started working at the Floyd family ranch.” You say with a deadpan expression on your face. A few members of the squad looked shocked at your mentioning of a girlfriend, namely Payback and Coyote.

Rooster just huffed out through his nose, “I knew you were fruity somehow.” He said, pointing at you.

“You don’t get to call anybody fruity while you and Hangman dance around each other the way you have been, for as long as I’ve heard about you.” You point your fork at him with an eyebrow raised. Rooster raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Whoa, what did I do? I haven’t said anything.” Hangman asked, giving a brief glare in Rooster's direction, for somehow bringing the attention to their situation. You just gave him a pointed look.

“Mama?” Riley came to stand in front of you. “Can I have some dessert? And can Amelia and I go play games in the living room after?” She asks, her eyes were big, and she was giving you that look that you cannot deny.

“Sure, Bug, what do you want?” You ask as you stand and pick her up as you walk into the house. Yours and hers conversation fades out as you go inside.

Amelia went inside briefly after you and Riley. She had a vague idea as to what the team was going to start pestering Bob about and didn’t feel inclined to listen.

“So you got her pregnant before you married her?” Fanboy wiggled his eyebrows at Bob as he asked what everyone was thinking.

“Okay, do not say it like that, we were planning on having a kid, and we were both prepared for everything that could happen, plus it’s not like we had her when we were teenagers. We just so happened to have her before we got married.” Bob explained after sighing like his friends were his kids instead of his child, who was with you getting dessert inside. 

tags: @7dreambaby

[swiftdarlin]

20 year olds playing with kids toys (Matt’s daughter joins)

-

DadMatt DadMatt DadMatt !!!

I haven't written in so fucking long please excuse how terrible this is.

-

Also I named the daughter Kiara cus I like the name and wanna name my kid that, was literally so close to naming his wife after me.

-

“This is the Fairy-Corn Princess Surprise, I didn’t think we needed this. This was one of the last things we grabbed but Matt thought we needed it because it has over 35 princess surprises inside” Nick states as he puts the egg-shaped toy down on the counter, prepared to start opening up their first toy.

“Well, I also thought Kiara would like it- she’s been obsessed with fairies recently, figured why not get it for the video then give it to her”

As they’re opening the egg, commenting on the unicorn inside Matt notices something on the instructions paper, excitedly, he gasps. “You can wear the wings!” he exclaims

“Okay hold on this is important- How do you get the wings off!?”

“This is about to get real. Hold on I’m getting Kiara”

“Sweetheart!” Matt can be heard in the background of the camera, calling out for his daughter as he’s walking towards the living room where his 3-year-old daughter is sitting on the carpet having a tea party with her mom, Ella (her soft, adorable, stuffed bear) and Ivy (the family’s cat).

“Hey cutie I have something for you” Kiara jolted up, excitedly, her dad always had the best gifts. She jumped up into his arms, him catching her with ease, used to her liking to be held. She had her legs wrapped around his waist and her face in his neck as he softly rubbed her back with his right hand, holding her up with his left.

He turned around going back to the kitchen but before getting in front of the camera he softly asked, “Are you okay with being in the video baby?” she nodded, excited for what her dad had for her. “You sure? I need words, princess, if you don’t want to be in it, I can show you after we’re done. There’s no pressure I want you to be comfortable”

“I’m sure daddy” she nodded her head to him. “I’m always comfortable with you” she added, making his heart melt and his smile widen, his eyes gleaming with content. “I’m glad baby, want nothing more but for you to be happy and comfortable” he says, kissing her head as he walks towards the counter where his brothers are waiting for him.

Usually, Matt and his brothers would film their Wednesday video earlier in the morning so Kiara would be in preschool at the time. However, she recently fell victim to the flu which resulted in her parents keeping her home for a few days. It was now getting later in the night and Kiara had gotten out of the bathtub a few hours ago, While she was getting dressed in her favourite pyjama set- long sleeve pink top with “princess” written on it with a cute sparkly crown and pants with the same design on the right leg, she had made both her mama and dada promise to have a sleepover in her room that night- as she always does when she’s sick.

Matt was not going to break that promise. So, although it was late, and an hour past the girls' bedtime, they let her stay awake until they finished filming.

“Hey pretty girl” Chris says to Kiara looking at her in Matt’s arms as he sits back down next to him, putting Kiara on his lap. “FAIRY WINGS!” Kiara exclaims, her eyes widening as she looks on the counter quickly snatching them as if a robber was going to come for them.

“Jesus Christ girl no one’s stealing them from you” Nick states as Matt laughs at his daughter’s excitement and possessiveness over the wings.

“You want me to put them on you?”

“Yes! Please I want to be a princess fairy” She quickly replies, dragging out the words. “Alright come on”

Matt grabs her from her hips and sets her up on the counter, her fuzzy socks keeping her warm from the cold. She turns around facing her dad ready for him to put the wings on her, so she could be a real princess fairy, with real fairy wings.

“Arms up” Matt tells her as he sees his wife leaning on the entry to the kitchen, watching her favourite people in amusement.

Kiara quickly puts her arms up causing her shirt to slide up with her- “you’re getting taller baby we need to get you big girl pyjamas” Matt says as he puts her shirt back down knowing the weirdos that are on the internet.

He’s careful with his words, most people would say “bigger” but he did not want his daughter to overthink his wording, even if she was only an innocent 3-year-old unaware of society’s criticism on “bigger” people.

“No I like these want to wear em’ foever’ and ever” she replies, absolutely shocked by the idea of getting rid of her super special perfect princess pyjamas

“We could get you similar ones baby just a size up since you’re growing up- you’ve had those for over a year baby you’re getting older” Matt says as he ties the string of the fairy wings around his daughter's chest, already planning the new pyjamas he’s going to get her.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to tie behind her, isn’t it?”

“Nick it’s wings dude”

“Yeah dude”

They all chuckle at Kiara’s agreement with her uncle Chris.

Matt ties a bow with the strings. “Is that good? Not too tight right?”  He asks not wanting the pressure tied around her to hurt his baby girl.

Kiara grabs the stuffed unicorn from the counter hugging it tightly around her chest as she jumps back onto her dad's lap. “Wait Kia here” her mama says handing her the tiara and wand, going to stand behind Matt with her arms on his shoulders “Thankyou mommy, now I’m a true princess fairy” she gleams happily.

“Wait who did we get?” Matt says looking over the paper that came with the toy as he leans back into his wife while another arm is wrapped around his daughter, making sure she doesn’t fall off his lap. 

“That’s Ruby”

“That’s clearly Ruby, Matt”

“Is it Ruby?” he says as he looks at the unicorn in his daughter's grip.

“Oh then they want you to collect them all so it’s a scam”

“There’s more? I want them all! Can I have more please?” Kiara asks hopefully giving her dad those eyes that he can never say no to. “I don’t think we can get them all sweetheart, there's too many but we can get another one next time we go to Target” Matt’s wife replies before he manages to, knowing he would’ve said yes and bought her thousands of dollars’ worth of these toys if she didn’t step in.

-

As the boys look over the next toy Kiara plays around with Ivy in the kitchen, getting bored from the lack of princess toys and wings. She can still hear her dad and uncles talking and looking over toys, when another toy comes up and her dad says, “Oh you got to turn her on” they all erupt in laughter.

She looks up, confused about what’s so funny about turning on a toy so you can play with it. “I meant like on the bottom dude, the actual power button- you guys are sick” Matt says as the laughter calms down, Kiara, confused, asks her dad “What other way would you turn her on?”

“Oh sweetie I think your dad knows plenty of ways to turn a woman on especially your mum” Chris gets slapped in the back of his head. “Don’t say that Chris” Matt says in shock, not wanting to explain to his daughter what they’re talking about. “Why?” Kiara asks, still confused.

“See Kiara when two people love each other very much” Chris starts only to be stopped by Matt once again. “Like my mommy and daddy?” she questions, Chris is unable to answer as Matt’s hands are over his mouth, blocking out his words.

“Exactly like your mommy and daddy”

“Nick!” Matt exclaims in shock.

“I’m confused” Kiara states looking at them annoyed.

“Don’t worry about it baby, Uncle Chris and Uncle Nick are being stupid as usual, ignore them” Matt replies hoping she’ll let it go.

“Do you turn mommy on?” She wonders trying to get to the bottom of this. Loud laughter erupts from the girls’ uncles. “Uhm- well you know when me and mommy kiss?” Matt says to her, trying to get around it without having to lie or keep something from his daughter, after all, it’s a normal thing. As she nods, he continues “Well- It has to do with that, okay? It’s only done when two people are in love and married” Matt is obviously aware that two people do not have to be in love or married to kiss or "turn eachother on" but he didnt want his baby knowing that.

“Oh okay” Kiara replies, pleased with the answer of knowing more about love.

She’s always loved love, especially when it has to do with her parents, she loves knowing they are in love, she loves watching them kiss, laugh and hold each other. She believes she got lucky to have parents so in love.

“Pretend this is my second kid, okay? You guys are uncles again and Kiara has a sibling” Matt says as he starts feeding the toy lamb its bottle.

He starts having déjà vu of when Kiara still drank out of the bottle, he misses those times but is so happy to see her grow up.

He starts to picture himself feeding their second kid, knowing the “pretend” would soon be real as the married couple found out the night before that they’re 6 weeks pregnant and expecting their second. He was so excited and couldn’t wait to start telling people he was going to have another baby, especially couldn’t wait to tell Kiara she was getting a baby sister- or brother, but he secretly wished it would be another girl.

-

As Matt is playing around with the Barbie doll he and his brothers opened he feels a tug on his pant leg, he looks down and sees his daughter who previously left to go potty back in the kitchen, he notices she has taken off her tiara and tried to tie her hair up, she always had issues with turning the hair tie, but she’s trying hard to learn to do her hair and he’s proud of that. “Yeah baby?” He asked her as he looked down at her as his brothers continued to play with the doll.

“Can you put my hair up please” she mumbles, getting tired.

“Yeah, baby of course” He lifts her, setting her down on his lap

“What do you want sweetie? Ponytail?” He asks her as he starts gently leading her curly hair back and grabbing it all together, untying some strands that got stuck on her fairy wings.

“Can you do a braid please”

“Yep” He replies, gently stroking his hand over her head as he kisses the back of her head, starting to separate the hair pieces for the braid.

He can notice she’s getting tired, it’s well past her bedtime now but what worries him is when he hears a sniffle “Are you okay sweetheart?” he asks in worry that she’s crying as he finishes up the braid. She wipes her nose with her long sleeve “Yeah daddy, just have to blow my nose” Matt sighs in relief, knowing she’s not upset just sick.

He grabs a hair tie from his wrist where he always keeps extras in case she or his wife needs one.

He ties the end of her hair, makeing sure to keep the braid secure.

He grabs a small packet of tissues that he stored in his pants in case she needed to blow, knowing how annoying a runny nose could be, he opens one up for her and holds it in front of her nose as she blows on it, he scrunches it up and puts it away on the counter to throw away later.

Matt continues with the video keeping Kiara snuggled up on his lap as she too starts to play with the Barbie dolls.

-

Kiara is now softly held in her mom’s arms as she walks back into the kitchen, “Hey you guys almost done? She doesn’t want to sleep without you there Matt”

He looks up, eyes gleaming as he sees his two favourite girls walk in the room “Yeah we’re practically done just have to do the outro” Nick replies as Matt leans closer to his girls, pretending to knock on both of their heads with the toy hammer, making both of them giggle.

“Daddy is like Bob the builder with the belt” Kiara states, laughing at her dad.

“Oh yeah?” Matt replies, starting to tickle her which causes her to laugh and her mom to giggle at them.

Matt grabs her out of her mama's arms and tightly hugs her close to him, grabbing his wife’s hand and pulling her into the hug as well.

“Family hug” he exclaims giggly, as he kisses his daughter's head, then his wife, and pretends to kiss his wife's belly knowing he can’t do that without striking suspicion.

“Also, just in case you guys are wondering we’re not throwing all of this away, my mom’s going to donate it to some little kids she knows” Nick tells the camera.

“Kids in need” Matt adds.

“Except unicorn and wings” Kiara chimes in.

They all laugh at her eagerness for the unicorn and its wings, “Except for the unicorn and its wings, Kiara wants to keep them” Nick adds to his previous statement.

“I want to keep everything, but I can share” The girl adds.

“So kids will have fun with these toys” Nick starts to continue talking directly to the camera but Kiara interrupts.

“Can we give the kids my old toys too? And the ones I don’t play with? I think some of them would like my toys”

“I think some kids will love your toys sweetie” Her mom adds, proud of her daughter for wanting to donate,

“Yeah Kia that’s great”

“That’s so sweet of you Kiara I’m sure they’ll appreciate it”

Matt gleams brightly at his daughter “I’m glad you want to donate Kiara that’s really good” He says proudly

“You’re so sweet and kind” he kisses her cheek.

“Sweetest girl in the world” her mama continues, kissing her other cheek.

Matt leans closer to his wife, pressing a kiss on her lips.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah baby?"

"Did that turn mommy on?" She asks referring to their previous conversation.

Lond laughter erupts from all of the boys.

"What!?" Matt's wife exclaims confused as they all continue laughing

-

“Okay, we’ll see you guys next Friday!”

“Bye!” Kiara says as she continues to drag out the word, waving goodbye to the camera.

-

Comments:

Fan1: OMG KIARA!!! MISSED SEEING HER IN VIDEOS

Fan2: came for the triplets, stayed for kiara

Fan3: MATTS SUCH A GOOD DAD?? AND HE KNOWS HOW TO BRAID???

Fan4: the way he holds her and is so gentle with her 😭😭😭 wish i had a dad

Fan5: the facr that he made sure zhe was okay being on camera is so so cute and adorable and hot and sexy

^iammattswife: so real for that comment

Fan6: Need more kiara content please

Fan7: THE TURNING HER ON JOKES LMAOSOO

Fan8: Kiara is so sweet u can tell shes being raised right

-

Tags: @cindylcuwho @keerahsturn

[fanfic-enthusiast]

OOOOO YESSSSSSS OH MY GOD THATS SO CLEVER!!

Some more Time Will Tell Click Clack stuff before I disappear into the ether to write.

and she died on the Cob for our sins

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Scripted Redemption Bracket — Round 3

Propaganda

Bryony Halbech (Red Valley) (Boba Count: 2):

Dr. Bryony Halbech is someone who's very dedicated to her research even so far as to killing multiple people and purposefully causing the suffering of others to gather scientific data. She DOES NOT hesitate to kill anyone who stands in her way and WILL make you saw cryonically preserved bodies with her, can you think of anyone sexier than that?

John Peters (Welcome to Night Vale) (Boba Count: 2):

(you know the farmer?)

He's a farmer of invisible corn

He owns his house

He's fed people to an eldritch monster by accident when he made a corn maze

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Bryony Halbech (Red Valley):

Everyone leans in when she speaks, she commands such a presence. Scientist lady with dubious morals, my favorite villain ever, autism girl swag. Brought a gun to a bomb fight and lived. Decapitated someone. WOMEN IN STEM! I love her guys vote Bryony.

Guys! Did you not hear the way this woman says the word ‘vivarium’!

#is she pure evil and has committed hundreds of atrocities #yes.... #she's still hot tho

#everyone vote for our cancelled wife

#BRYONY SWEEP #I STAND WITH MY CANCELLED WIFE

#BRYONY MY EVIL SCIENTIST WIFE

#Bryony Halbech the evil scientist that you are... #sigh okay I'll vote for her

Absolutely. yes. Bryony Halbech ❤️ #evil medical malpractice wife #she's a monster #i love her for it #i support womens rights and womens wrongs

#BRYONY HALBECH

#my unethical science wife i love her

#shes awful but BRYONY FUCKING HALBECH SWEEP!!!!!

#YOU GET IT

#WHAT IVE BEEN SAYNG#I WOULD LET HER COMMIT MEDICAL ATROCITIES ON ME !!!!!!!!!!1

#morally questionable women in stem 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

#I SUPPORT WOMAN'S WRONGS!!!!!!!!!!!#vote bryony <3

#i love you women who are fucked up and evil. what if we kissed and we were covered in blood. what would you even do

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

The choice is clear. Bryony Halbech is the kind of woman you’d let do highly illegal things to your body and mind

BRYONY IS HOT.

#BRYONY LETS GOOO #EVIL SCIENTIST WHO REALLY SUPER HATES YOU #AND WHO DOES MOT CARE ABT KILLING PEOPLE #AND WHO LIKES SHOOTING PEOPLE #AND CUTTING PEOPLES HEADS OPEN

[factual-fantasy]

24 Asks! Thank you! 🦷

Alrighty, here we go-🙌🙌

Episode 5 was pretty meh to me in some ways and my tier list hasn't really changed. Kinger still shines at the top of my favorites list. Even more so when he brought Pomni under the dark desk so he could think more clearly and help her with the adventure.

I miiight move Caine down from S tier to A, he's starting to get sus and his anger towards Zooble criticizing his adventures was not a good look.😔 I might move Pomni up a tier and mayyybe move Zooble up.. But Jax is still in the "no" tier.

I know, I know. everyone loves Jax after this episode. And I can admit that his sob story that hinted at an abstracted friend was nice and all, but it doesn't matter to me what trauma he has or what his coping mechanism is. It doesn't justify how badly he treats others, and he should not be getting away with it.

Lastly, something that really bothered me throughout the whole episode is Pomni saying "Do you guys know about his (Kingers) wife?" and NOBODY addresses it.💀

As soon as she said that I paused it to geek out, I was SO EXCITED to see what the others would possibly say! Only to have.. not even an actual distraction to anyone other then Zooble and Jax happen- and NO ONE mentions it. Why didn't Gangle or Ragatha say anything? They wouldn't have been distracted by the corn like Jax or Zooble, and they ABSOLUTELY heard Pomni. I was so disappointed that such a cool question was asked by Pomni, only for LITERALLY NOTHING to come from it. 💔

All in all, episode 3 still ranks as my absolute favorite👍

(Link in post)

I actually thought about going back and trying to draw it again after this post was so enthusiastically received. But looking back? The more I thought about it and broke it down.... ehhh, I really didn't like it. Which is why I haven't wanted to attempt to write the story out or post the rough sketches..

The comic itself was lacking, but the most important thing was the writing. Looking at it more critically, Gloria made a lot of decisions she would not have made which eventually led to mega Grimace. If I were to try and tackle that idea again, it would take a looooot of re-writing and thinking.😔💔

My symptoms are acting up today, which is making it hard to focus and draw. But other than that I am ok :) I hope you two are well!

@badlyblurry (Sent after this post)

I WISH I could have seen that- those both sound hilarious XDD

Also fat squirrels look like Chinchillas 🤣🤣🤣

So I've heard 😅🙄

@idk-wot-to-do-here

SCREAMSS THANYIIUUU!!! :DDDD There's a good chance you'll (kind'a) see him again soon! :DD

I never watched it, it just felt like it was a heartless sequel that was trying to expand on a complete trilogy just for money. At least that's how people described it-💔

I'm sure they'd love it! :DD I remember liking it when I read it! :)

It entirely depends on the character, but I can at least draw my factual fam from memory! :DD ..Just not color them from memory-- <XDD

@ardent-38

AAA THANKYOU SO MUCH!!! :DDD 💞💞💞

@spelling-is-a-curse

Thank you so much!! :DD And thank you for the media suggestion! I'll have to do some googling about it! :0000

@mossieeeeee

Thank you! But sorry pal, drawing requests aren't free! You gotta order one over on my Ko-fi.

And I can see the group mostly going to Sylvester for comfort. Considering his "ribbons" emit a soothing aura 🧘‍♂️

The main reason for me not having a cape as well, is Bibi, Jangles, Cici and Gerald all exist as dolls in real life. All of which have tiny quilts made for them.

To fit the theme, if I were to have a quilt cape I'd want to make one for myself in real life. And I just haven't really done that- 😓😓 I don't have the money for those materials anymore and never really had the motivation to sit down and make a full sized quilt..

Plus, I like that my sona is very simple and easy to draw. If I were to add a quilt to my design it would make drawing my sona take a lot longer.. 😮‍💨😮‍💨

(Referencing this post)

It reminded me of her too! XDD

@starrystratagemnova

Thank you so much! :DDD Also, you can find the answer to that in the FAQ (Frequently Asked Questions) in my pinned post! :)

@burningmusicfunnygiant (Link in ask)

If I remember correctly..

Bonnie was.. kind'a in shock I think.? He didn't really emotionally process it at all. He had been playing Freddy's high processing role as "main star" with a slow processer for so long.. he just hardly had the strength to grapple with emotions anymore on top of all that data he needed to process everyday.

I think what I wrote.. was when Bonnie saw them he kind'a just... didn't look them in the eyes. He didn't say anything and kind'a just.... walked away. Whenever they tried to talk to him, he would just look away and stare off into nothingness. If they tried to approach he would likely just gently turn and wander out of the room.

It took quite a few days, but Freddy was persistent and finally got though to him. He realized that Bonnie was manning the main stage all these years, which he is NOT programmed to handle. He must be so overwhelmed every single day... Equipped with that knowledge, Freddy was able to approach him and eventually got him to talk. Bonnie was struggling to express his emotions.. but he was able to say "I'm very glad to see you again... I missed you both very much.." before he went mute again.💔

Foxy was just beside himself. He had been trying so hard to keep everyone together and not let the grief break him. Now that he saw them again, now that he knows they're alive.. he just broke down. For all the time lost, for all the worry, all the recharge-less nights.. only to see them now. It was such a relief but it was also so crushing. They were here the whole time. And Foxy hardly even looked for them.

Monty was just like Foxy, he was beside himself. But he was more composed then Foxy. He was able to speak clearly and express how much they all loved Freddy and Chica and how dearly they were missed. Though he didn't have the composure to say much else.

Roxy originally didn't have the bolts to face them. Much like Monty in my AU- or at least in the rewriting of it--- she was so ashamed of what she'd become, and didn't want them to look at her. She felt responsible for the Glamrock era which was what sealed Freddy's fate, so she couldn't look him in the eye.

Anytime Freddy tried to talk to her she'd usually flee. But one he time approached her while she was alone, kind of cornering her. She was upset and kept looking away. Which made Freddy slink away in shame and apologies for his appearance. That's when she broke down in tears and approached Freddy.

She was NOT afraid of him or disgusted by his appearance, she just felt so ashamed for everything that's happened and couldn't face Freddy after wronging him so badly. Even if it was an accident. And she couldn't bare to see the saddened expression Chica would surly have when she sees what a jerk Roxy has become.

Freddy forgave her for everything even though she didn't need to be sorry. He gave her a hug and pat her on the back, telling her it was gonna be ok. She became a kinder and gentler Roxy after that.

Holy cow!! That's a lot of views! Congratulations! :DDD 🎉🎉🎉

@virtualworldfp5

AAAAA CONGRTULATIONS!! :DDDD 🎉🎉🎉 I HOPE YOU CONTINUE TO GROW AND THRIVE! :)))) 🙏🙏🎉🎉🎉

@beryl-shade

I fear that they could persuade me into giving them whatever they want 😔

Its the eyes isn't it? XDD

@endlesssuffering4ever

Candy diver cookie! :DD I should really go back to cookie run sometime- 😅😅

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters: What Type of Halloween Candy They'd Be

Happy Halloween! Last year, Cosmere characters dressed up. This year, I'm going to compare them to candy. Who knows what will happen next year?

Anyway, here's what type of candy I think each of them would be!

1. Szeth: Jawbreaker

Yes, this is a joke about his bald head.

2. Elend: Nerds

Yes, this is a joke about how Elend is a big nerd.

3. Siri: Skittles

They are a rainbow, just like Siri's hair!

4. Shallan: Three Musketeers

One candy. Three musketeers. Shallan.

5. Ham: Tootsie Pop

The tagline "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop" is a quasi-philosophical question that we as kids really felt was important. Ham loves debating shit. My wife says no one will remember this slogan because it's from the 90s but I was a kid then and I'm doing it.

6. Vin: Warhead

It's a weapon of mass destruction in candy form.

7. Kaladin: Kit Kat

A candy made to be broken in half. The tag line (from the 90s again probably shut up) is "Give me a break." But no one gives Kaladin a break. He just gets...broken.

8. Wayne: 100 Grand

First slogan: "Tastes so good it's almost illegal!" Second slogan: "That's rich!" Wayne: likes to steal, like recreationally, but not like in an illegal-illegal way. Then he gets Super Rich. Look, it makes sense in my head.

9. Steris: Homemade caramel apples

Steris doesn't do anything halfway. The caramel is homemade too.

10. Lift: Sour Patch Kids

I think Lift would be a candy with "kid" in the name. You know, because she's never going to grow up.

11. Renarin: Reese's Peanut Butter Cups

The slogan I know is "There's no wrong way to eat a Reese's." And Renarin is a guy who likes to go his own way.

12. Leshwi: M&Ms

Hard outer shell (=crab lady) + delicious cholate interior (=Leshwi is sweet) and then there's slogan about how it m-melts in your m-mouth not in your hand.... Ha ha did it get hot in here or is it just me?

13. Dalinar: Twix

It's a candy that is a BONDED pair. I tried.

14. Adolin: Lindor Truffle

I felt that Adolin should be chocolate: solid, dependable, comforting. But, like, a fancy chocolate. Rich. Higher quality. That sort of thing.

15. Raoden: Snickers

Slogan (current, for once!): "You're not you when you're hungry." And, you know, as a person with the Shaod and an all-consuming hunger...

16. Moash: Candy Corn

People who hate candy corn: "Candy corn is the WORST thing to have EVER happened in the UNIVERSE and anybody who likes it is PROBABLY SICK AND TWISTED."

People who like candy corn: "It sucks! I love it so much."

(I like candy corn.)

17. Kelsier: Everlasting Gobstopper

My original joke: Because it survives forever!

My current joke: Holy shit I really thought this was a real candy but apparently it is a fictional candy from Willy Wonka that was later made into a real candy? Only the fictional candy really did last forever but of course the real candy doesn't; it's just a story.

That's somehow even more Kelsier.

18. Nale: Floss

There's always the one house that hands out floss, to remind the children that life is not about fun candy, it's about Responsibility. That's Nale.

[bleedingcoffee42]

Held off on this because it's becoming disheartening to see a lot of the BoB Tumblr research reposted or remastered with dubious credit, but at the end of the day I really want people to know about Norma Jean Darland Grant, Chuck Grant's wife.

Norma, I don't even know where to start with you. As I dive into the records to find people and make their stories known, nobody has had so much tragedy and absolutely bizarre circumstances revolving around their lives as you. I've never wanted to reach back in time and give someone a hug so badly as I do with this lady. I hope Chuck was your sunshine, I hope you found happiness, I wish you were not the victim of circumstances beyond your control.

Norma was born in Mahaska. Co, Iowa on February 11, 1923. Her father George was a farmer. Her mother Mable Moody Darland , was the daughter of a farmer. She had an older brother Donald. In 1925 they moved to Newton, Iowa, then ended up in Detroit.

Full stop, because George Darland...holy shit did this guy get into everything. And I do mean unbelievable non-stop news. In 1920 George was tearing down a cow barn with his father in law, barn collapses, father in law gets scalped. They have to take William Moody to town on a stretcher, George has a broken shoulder and helps carry him, Moody ends up with 21 stitches and no broken bones. In 1921 George , recently recovered from pneumonia, pulls some Oregon Trail shit and tries to get to his corn farming island in the river when the ferry rope broke, wagon fell off the barge, his team drowns and he almost drowns under one of them. Even the paper is like "damn, this is the unluckiest guy in Iowa." Oh...it's only 1921. Just wait.

He also got into a fight with some guy in town and got busted up earlier that summer, something about a cheese knife and billiard cue and- no- the article does not explain that. Oh, and don't forget the spreading viper he decided to catch in September. Throw in a modest sprained ankle in 1922. There are a few years without news, and I am sure it's just because it's not available to us a 100 years later, yet.

Mable Moody Darland dies in Detroit in 1929, of diffuse peritonitis, after what appears to have been a two year stint in the city to work at Braggs Mfg. After Mable dies, George goes home and the kids are at his parents in Barnes City while he heads to Des Moines to work for his brother. In 1930 Norma Jean writes to Santa and breaks my heart.

However, earlier that year in 1930 George gets involved in the B.O. Darland Grocery Store bullshit and gets shot. Here's the story.: There is a cop, William J. Aiken, who lives a few houses down from George's brother Bert and his family. George's brother Bert has a grocery store on the corner. George is working for him even though the census says he's a mechanic. Mrs. Aiken might be getting more than groceries from Darland's Grocery store. Husband goes to drag her out of the store, punches Bert, draws a gun, gun goes off and George is shot in the leg, then Aiken kicks the shit out of his wife all while Aiken's partner sits in the car and doesn't watch. Trial ensues, Aiken says he used the gun as a club to defend himself and doesn't know who's finger pulled the trigger. Front page Des Moines news, complete with maps! The Judge dismissed the case against Aiken, but Aiken loses his job as detective, and is also later arrested for bootlegging. Wild Norma has not one, but two, men in her life who get shot for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. This poor girl.

It seems George rebounded and found a new Mabel to marry, Mabel Kerr in 1931. Mabel #2's husband Jack, a coal miner who had been working the mines since he was orphaned at 9, was arrested for bootlegging. That left her and their 6 children out of luck as Jack was sentenced to 3 months in jail and a fine of $300. Well, along came the unluckiest guy in Iowa and they were married at her sister's house in Raritan, Illinois in 1931. (If you think Raritan sounds familiar it's because Raritan, NJ was home of Basilone. The Raritan River was where the Nixon Nitration Works was located on. People from this area in NJ left in the 1850s to go start a town with NJ names in Illinois just to fuck with me.)

In 1932 in Tracey, Iowa the schoolhouse George and family are living in, burns down. How much family? Unclear.

1933 rolls around. In Des Moines, Darland's Grocery-- Bert specifically--gets robbed at gunpoint March 16, for $15, milk, sugar, butter and eggs. The same day Jack Kerr visits his family in Albia. George dies March 30, 1933 in Oskaloosa?(maybe?) and I have no idea how. Mabel #2 moves on an remarries in 1938, and her Kerr kids go with her and the Darland kids eventually go west with the Darland family to LA. Norma lives with her aunt Mrytle Darland Morrow and goes to school in Santa Monica. Bert Darland moves west too, restarts the grocery business out there and sells it a few times. He avoids being shot, but a poodle did bite him at one point and couldn't be found so Bert probably got a lot of painful Rabies shots.

George is buried in Bellefontaine Cemetery where Mable #1 is, along with loads of Mable #2 family. There is a death notice in the paper, no obit. 'What Killed George Darland' haunts me because this man survived so much and there is no news about what finally got him.

Back to Norma . She goes to Santa Monica High School. Joins the World Friendship Club and Riding Club. In 1938 is at a party celebrating the engagement of her cousin Thelma. She joins the marines in 1943 and by war's end is a corporal. She is stationed at Miramar in San Diego, muster roll says she is with the aviation women's reserve squadron. In 1945 is maid of honor for a fellow marine friend. On her marriage certificate in Nov 1946 she lists her residence as Santa Monica.

How does she meet Chuck Grant who at this point has been out of the hospital a year and is dealing with paralysis and speech issues? Another burning question. However in November 1946 they go to Vegas with Chuck's friend Keith Morgan and his wife and get married. They move to San Diego where she becomes a cashier at the Naval Training Station. 40 hours a week as a payroll clerk. Chuck is used as an example of Navy efforts to assist wounded veterans in a newspaper article, possibly because Norma is working there. They have their first son Dan in 1947 and Charles Jr in 1951.

Then in September 8, 1954, Norma ODs. 7am Chuck goes to the bedroom and finds her, takes the kids to a friends house in Clairemont, and returns to call the cops at 9:15 am and answer questions. He told the detective he wanted to spare the kids the details of their mother's death and didn't want them present from the inquiry. It is ultimately ruled a suicide by the coroner, overdose by barbiturates.

Norma Jean Darland Grant was cremated and is buried in Rosecrans military cemetery in San Diego under her maiden name. I don't know if Chuck just signed off on paperwork and didn't correct it or what. The burial form stipulates there are interment rights in her grave but he ends up buried in Forest Lawn in LA instead.

Norma was 31 years old. From what we can tell, Chuck never remarried.

Thank you to @noneedtoamputate for caring about Chuck and his family and going on this journey of research into the Darlands. For every fact we unearth, we still gain no insight into Chuck's personality. But we've earned those Oregon Trail T-Shirts for learning about George. Thank you for listening to my screaming in the inbox because every. damned. person in Chuck Grant's orbit has some truly messed up shit in their lives. This post is a summary of months of research that has been interesting for sure.

[eclairemaire]

Meeting the Missus pt. 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Wife! Reader

Category: Fluff

Summary: The Team finds out Bob is married and wants to meet the missus.

Warnings: Reader is described very similarly to Rhea Ripley, Reader and Bob are very much in love, No mention of Y/N used, Southern Reader (she's like all southern ladies sweet like iced tea, but can knock you on your ass if she has too), Express mentions of reader and Bob's Child, Lemme know if I missed any.

Word Count: 1.8K

Notes: Finally, we get to the cookout, YIPPEE!!! I'm so thankful for all the support shown, and as always, I hope everyone enjoys the story!

p.s At the bottom of the post is the floorplan that I mentioned in my last post for everyone who needs a visual. (I'm not an architect or contractor by anymeans so it's not proffessional but it is what I imagined for the floorplan of the home.)

The day of the much-awaited cookout has finally arrived, and the Floyd household is buzzing with anticipation and subdued chaos as the final touches are being made throughout the home.

“BOB, please make sure everything is ready in the back!” You yell out to your husband as you put the last of the food onto the island in the kitchen. “Riley, sweety, can you please make sure all the board games are in the living room?” You say, turning to your daughter.

“Sure thing, Mama!” She chirps brightly before skipping that way.

“Okay, so I have humus, ranch dip, crackers, veggies for the dip, grilled veg for burgers, buns, cheese, charcuterie board, corn on the cob, condiments, and the burgers are out by the grill, along with the hot dogs and sausages, ok,” mumbling to yourself as you go through the mental checklist of food, “What am I missing?” you mutter looking at the spread before you.

“Mama, can I have some pretzels?” Riley asks, appearing at your side, both Nuggs and Beans with her.

“That's it! Chips.” Turning to Riley, you pick her up as you place a kiss on her cheek. “Yes, you may, my dear.” Opening the pantry door, you set her down and reach for the pretzels to give her, before facing the chip collection on the shelf. You grab almost every chip bag from the pantry, having no idea what the team might want.

Phoenix was the first to arrive, which wasn’t surprising, seeing as she had babysat for you and Bob before, she came right in as you finished putting the chips on the counter.

“Auntie Nat!” Riley squealed as she saw Phoenix enter the kitchen. Phoenix was holding a bag, and she put it on the counter before squatting down to hug Riley.

“Hey mini Floyd,” she said, hugging her close before standing up with her in her arms. “Man, you’re getting big, soon I won’t be able to call you mini Floyd,” she remarked while feigning a stagger from Riley’s weight.

“I’ve grown 2 ½ inches!” Riley exclaimed to Phoenix while she beamed at her.

“Hey, Mama Floyd, there’s some dessert and some seltzers in there for later,” Phoenix said as she nodded towards the bag she placed on the counter. “Where’s Bobby boy at?” she asks as she swivels around. As though he were summoned, Bob entered the kitchen at that moment.

“Ah, there he is.”

“Huh, what?” He looked up from his phone, hearing Phoenix’s voice. “Hey Nat,” He smiled as he walked over to sit on one of the stools at the island. “Hangman just texted to let us know he’s gonna be here soon, as well as Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy. I think Rooster is coming with Mav and them.” He says as he dips a chip into the ranch dip. “Hey, Hun, you forgot the pickles.” 

You turn around from where you were putting seltzers into the fridge “Oh shit,” you say, turning back to the fridge and grabbing the jar from door “There we go. Anything else?”

Bob looks at the clock on the oven. “No, but I think you might want to start grilling the meat soon.” He said, putting another chip in his mouth. You look at your watch and then start heading to the back door.

“You need any help?” Phoenix asks.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Bob, you’re on door greater duty.” You say, pointing at him as you back away. “No pouting!” You shout after stepping outside. Phoenix rises to follow you, taking Riley with her. Bob just stares at the space you both were occupying just a moment before.

~

Hangman wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he imagined you and Bob’s house, but it wasn’t a 2 story, almost cookie-cutter house, with a pickup in the driveway. He could see Phoenix’s car parked next to the truck in the driveway. There were plants all over the front porch, along with a porch swing and some rocking chairs. Walking up to the front door, he could see into what appeared to be a living room through a window, which looked significantly cozier than the exterior of the home. Just as he was about to knock, he heard some chattering behind him. 

“Hey Hangman,” Coyote called as he jogged to catch up with him at the door. Behind him, Payback and Fanboy were talking while walking up, their hands full of stuff.

“Wassup, guys!” Fanboy said once they reached the door. Before anyone could respond, they all jumped as barking was heard from within the house, followed by some light scolding as the barking died down and the front door opened.

“Welcome, everyone,” Bob said as he opened the door wider to let everyone in, and saw two dogs go through a dog door at the end of the hallway. The entryway had a bench pushed along the edge of the stairs that had Bob’s workbag and dog leashes, and harnesses on it. Under the bench were several pairs of shoes, including what appeared to be 3 sets of cowboy boots. The coat rack was full, filled with jackets and coats alike, as well as a few ball caps. Next to it was a cowboy hat rack on which was Bob’s black hat, followed by a chocolate colored one, and then at the bottom was Riley's pink one covered in rhinestones and pink feathers.

Looking further into the home, they could see that the walls were covered with frames and full of many different paintings. Going through the living room toward the kitchen, they passed the well-loved sectional couch on the right, which was covered in throw pillows and had a basket next to it that was full of blankets. Across from the couch was the TV and media center, filled with movies, games, and game consoles. There were two dog beds placed in front of the windows that looked out into the front yard. The wall with the doorway to the kitchen had a large bookcase pushed against it, almost spanning the whole wall, which was filled with books, model planes and cars, as well as a few Lego sets here and there.

There was another knock on the door as they all reached the kitchen. “You guys can set your stuff on the counter, and anything that needs to stay cold, you can go ahead and put into the fridge. The girls are all out back,” Bob says, walking backwards and pointing from the fridge to the back door, just through a hallway off to the right, past the dining table. 

“Hey, Mav, Penny, Rooster. And you must be Amelia. My wife is looking forward to meeting you, so is my daughter.” Bob said as he started to lead them the same way to the kitchen to set their stuff on the island. Then Riley came barreling around the corner from the back door into the kitchen.

“Daddy, Mama needs another tray for the rest of the meat.” She hollered, running right up to Bob and grappling straight to his leg. Completely oblivious to all the other people in the room. All of the guys looked at her in astonishment, that Bob did in fact have a child. She looked like Bob and you, having Bob’s facial structure, his dark blue eyes, and his height, but had your nose and lips and that same lightly tanned skin, her hair a mixture of both of you, with his color, and your curls. 

“Okay, Bug. Can you say ‘Hi’ to everyone for me?” He asks, running his fingers through her hair as he starts to turn to where you stored the baking trays. Riley looked up and saw all the new people in the room and tried to follow Bob and hide behind his legs, once she realised they were all looking at her. “It’s ok, Bug, none of them bite.” He lightly nudged her out from behind himself as he made to go out the back door to give you the tray.

“Hi,” she said very softly. She gave everyone a little hesitant wave as she looked at them all again. 

Maverick was the first one to introduce himself, lowering himself to be on the same level as Riley so as not to intimidate her more. “ Hello, Riley. I’m Captain Pete Mitchell, callsign Maverick.” He put his hand out for her to shake, looking at him, and then to his hand, she took it gingerly, hers significantly smaller, and gave it a light shake. 

After that, her confidence went up a bit. “Hello, Captain Mitchell, I’m Riley Floyd.” She stated, some of her mom’s southern charm was coming through with how polite she was. She then turned to Penny and Amelia, Rooster had moved over to the rest of the guys and was watching from beside the fridge.

“Hi Riley, I’m Penny, and this is my daughter Amelia.” Penny also crouched down and pointed to Amelia, who was behind her and had sat down in front of the dinner table. Amelia waved from where she was and gave Riley a small smile. She shook Penny’s hand in the same fashion as Maverick, and did the same with Amelia before turning to face the boys.

Deciding to be very brave, Riley walked over to one of the stools by the island where they were all congregated and got up onto one and stood up on it. Upon seeing her approach, all of them grew hushed as she tried to reach their height by standing on the stool.

“You better be careful there, Little Lady,” Hangman said as he approached with his arms braced so that if she fell, he could catch her easily. “You’re parents wouldn’t be happy if we let you fall now, would they?” He asked once he was fully in front of her.

“Lt. Jake Seresin, callsign Hangman." He put one hand forward to shake, and she looked at him, then at his hand. Promptly, she slapped it as hard as she could, which was significantly harder than any of the guys would have thought.

“I don’t like you, Bagman,” She said in a very serious tone as she glared at him. All the guys behind him were snickering and smacking each other as they didn’t even try to hold it together as they watched Hangman get snubbed by Bob’s daughter. Hangman looked at his hand and then at Riley with a look of slight disbelief as though he couldn’t comprehend what had just happened, and backed away slowly. Rooster was the next to approach her, and she eyed him critically.

“Lt. Bradley Bradshaw, ma’am, callsign Rooster," he gave her the utmost respect he could muster without cooing at her. Riley’s look lightened as he also put out his hand for her to shake. 

“Hello, Lieutenant Bradshaw, I’m Riley Floyd.” She squeezed his hand as hard as he could and gave it a firm shake. The rest of the boys followed Rooster's example, and right after Fanboy finished his introduction, you came in with trays of patties, hot dogs, and sausages, with  Phoenix and Bob right behind you also carrying food, and freshly grilled corn on the cob.

“Alright, Everybody, lunch is served!!” You said as you started to place trays on the counter.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

First Floor ⤵

Second Floor ⤵

[tinyplanetss]

was too enthralled on my first viewing of the new digital circus ep, so i took notes the second time around!!

-candy hearts and paper flowers!!! :333

-caine snapping at zooble, and also seems to be very focused on violence? implying that it needs to happen?

-jax is very much under the impression that caine is incapable of physically/mentally changing them, and is proven wrong here to his shock. it keeps bothering him in the bar scene too.

-pomnis favorite color is red. kinger's favorite color is black, like darkness!

-when ragatha says "not anymore", jax has such a unique expression and the music slows to a harsh stop. really cool way to make the scene screech to a halt!!

-pomni laughing at jax's jokes and trying to lose the bias a bit..... wwaaa <3 because jax keeps reaching out. and he moves and talks so slowly and calmly in the stargazing segment

-the abstraction hallway with the FROG on the door. jax's dead friend????? CAN WE TALKKKKKK

-pomni is 25!!!

-jax genuinely asking about pomni's life! i think he wants to bond with someone who didn't know him before whatever happened with the frog friend. a fresh start

-pomni used to explore abandoned buildings and post them on youtube!

-zooble knows what breaking bad is! ragatha does not.

-ragatha used to be rich, and the way she spoke her mind too quickly to jax at the picnic reminded me strongly of emma woodhouse (at her own picnic!) might be some interesting parallels there once we learn more about ragatha. not including the abuse from her mother, which we don't know too much about...

-zooble used to work in a bar, and as a tattoo artist. jax makes a joke about this that may ? be about hitting on them? or calling them gay?? lol?? unclear honestly, but he gives them a cute expression ^_^

-nobody else replied about knowing kinger's wife, which seems weird since she was in the circus, right? unless it happened way before any of them, and he's been there a super long time?

-why is jax scared of corn on the cob. i have no clue what this means. he reacts like a cat with a cucumber

-i need to kill evil jax so bad. when he arrived onscreen i said "i need to kill him" and then jax immediately said "i wanna kill that guy" YEAH. MY MANNNNN 💕💘💖💞💗

-jax says evil pomni is so cool. love <3

-pomni's the only one who said no to the maid dress!! win for bodily autonomy!!

-zooble said "i figured you'd be into [the maid dress]" what does THAT mean. calling him gay back???

-jax's eyeliner looks CRAZY good. sorry that it was forced on you babygirl

-pomni is actually really emotionally intelligent. she always seems to know how to say just enough to help people, but never steamrolls over them or forces them to talk. i've been really appreciating that more and more, with how she listened to kinger in ep3, honored that gangle didn't want to talk and did a kind act instead in ep4, and now asking if jax is okay and not voting on the maid dress in ep5.

-jax's "see ya later" to evil pomni sounds just like when he said that to pomni at the counter in ep4

-ragatha looked so freaked out when pomni came up to talk to her after she yelled earlier. she's so scared of what will happen if she shows emotions and always feels like jax is the only appropriate target since he's mean already

-jax is gonna show pomni his friend's door????????????

anyway. HUGE wins for me, THEEEEE jax and pomni fan ever. i am EATING today. AUAGAHHH SO GOOD. YAYAYAYAYAYAYYY

[diremoone]

sweet dedication | g. satoru

a year after his fight with sukuna, satoru finally gets to enjoy his birthday in peace, with no one but his beloved wife.

w — fluff, post-canon, lots of food :3, i incorporated a doggo sue me, vv short but hopefully sweet 🥰

Happy Birthday, My Beloved Satoru ❤️❤️

[ line divider credit to @/saradika ]

The last thing Satoru expected to smell coming through the front door of his home was a mixture of cinnamon and cherries. He shrugged off the jacket from his shoulders and curiously stepped further into his home. Upon seeing the kitchen table and every counter, his eyes went wide and mouth fell open.

On the kitchen table was at least four boxes of pizza, chicken wings, fried chicken, and brisket. Towards the end of the table farther fell the front door were sides, like green bean casserole and corn. His mouth began to water, his inner food junkie rearing it’s hungry head.

Across the counters and clearly in the oven were desserts, desserts, and more desserts — apple and cherry pie, cheesecake, fruit kebabs, crepes, mochi, brownies, kikufuku from Sendai. Gosh, what was the occasion?

And then the man sees above the hallway entrance that leads to the other rooms: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Satoru gapes.

Was it really December 7th?

He checks his phone and his brows raise in surprise. How in the world did he forget?

But you didn’t. You would’ve been the only one available to have made such a feast for him (even if it was mostly sweets), since everyone else was out on missions, still trying to tidy up Japan after the Culling Games’ toll.

He feels his heart swell with love and happiness, happy that you’ve remembered a date that he’s thrown to the side for so many years. He’s happy that you’ve done so much here for him, a genuine showcase of how much you really loved him and knew him by cooking all of his favorites. This must’ve taken you hours and hours to do; this being a clear proclamation of how much you’ve dedicated yourself to him and to knowing him.

“Babe?” he calls out to open air. No response. He’s smart by checking the kitchen first; you’d never leave cooking food unattended.

Satoru’s mouth quirks up into a sweet smile at the sight of passed out, sitting on the kitchen floor with your inseparable corgi Maple snoozing away right next to you. Although he squints at the sight of your neck lolled to the side in the corner of the cabinets. That didn’t look comfortable at all.

He’s not sure if he should take you to bed or wake you up right now. After a moment, he decides the former. But as soon as you’re scooped up and secured against his broad chest, your eyes flutter open. Maple wakes up too, barking and wiggling her butt, happy to see her dad.

“Oh, my god. Satoru!”

He winks. “The one and only baby.”

Your brain has always been fast about remembering all of the events prior to any sort of sleep or nap you’ve had. This time was no different, and he chuckles when you begin to groan and complain about your surprise being ruined.

“God, I can’t believe I fell asleep! How does one even sleep on the kitchen floor. My ass hurts, Jesus,” you complain. You burrow your head into the crook of his neck in embarrassment as he carries you to the couch and sits down with you on his lap. Maple bounds up behind him and miraculously uses her little legs to hop up on the couch. Satoru chuckles and takes a moment to briefly give her belly rubs.

“Thank you for trying to make this day special for me,” your ‘Toru says. It’s sweet, the tone of his voice, filled with love and adoration. “Don’t feel bad. That looks like a lot of cooking you did, so it’s only natural you’d fall asleep at some point. So don’t beat yourself up over it, okay?”

You grumble but nod anyway. It was true. You’d been awake ever since he’d left earlier this morning, putting the pedal to the floor on your attempt to swamp the love of your life with all of his favorite foods made by hand.

“I love you, Satoru,” you mumble, still tired and sleepy from overextending yourself.

“I love you, too, baby.” His lips press a long kiss to the side of your temple. He pulls away to gaze down into your eyes, chuckles escaping him again at seeing the sleepy haze in them. “Thank you for trying to make my special day special.”

“But I still didn’t get to surprise you,” you complain.

“I wasn’t expecting it when I came home, especially now with everything going on. I think that’s a big enough surprise for me,” he argues. “So come on, cheer up! We have some delicious delicious food to eat made by my sweet, adorable, wonderful wifey-poo! Except the pizza of course!”

You deadpan. “Call me that again and I’ll smash the strawberry shortcake I made as your birthday cake in that expensive jacket you bought last week.”

Satoru gasps dramatically in horror.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.”

“Not if I eat it first!”

taglist:

@vagabond-umlaut @heresan @4sat0ruu and @/all my satoru lovers also i shouldn’t have taken that nap otherwise this taglist would be longer lmaoo

let’s raise a glass to this man who deserves the entire fucking world

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 3: Best Friends

Word Count: 893

Rating: G

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

CW: Language

Summary: Part of the As You Wish universe! A conversation between kids leads to an interesting conversation between Eddie and his former bandmates.

@corrodedcoffinfest

[As You Wish masterlist]

There isn’t a cloud in the sky, giving the sun plenty of opportunity to smile down on the Fourth of July Barbeque you and Eddie are throwing. This is the first time you’re hosting a party in your new house and it’s going pretty well, if you do say so yourself. 

The worst of the day’s heat had burned off and Eddie just lit the grill to get it all warmed up and ready to go. He closes the lid and makes his way back over to the outdoor table that his old bandmates are all sitting around. 

It wasn’t often that they all got to get together since everyone had their own lives and families these days, but it made those rare times all the more fun.

“Should be ready soon,” Eddie says as he plops back down in his chair. The hot concrete of the patio is too much for his bare feet, so he picks them up and rests them on one of the supportive bars under the table. From where he’s seated, Eddie can see through the cutout window on the back door, into the kitchen where Max and Gareth’s wife, Tammy, are getting all the food ready to be brought outside. 

Eddie would be the one doing most of the grilling, but Max insisted on grilling the corn on the cob because Eddie was notorious for burning it. 

“How was the drive up here?” Frank asks Jeff before taking a sip from his beer can.

“Not bad,” Jeff says with the shake of his head. “Most of the traffic was going the other way. Guess not many people were coming into Hawkins for Fourth of July.”

Just as Eddie is about to remark on the fun Fourth of Julys they’d had as teens in Hawkins, a small voice whines from the ground next to him.

“Theo!” Danny Harrington huffs, dropping the piece of green chalk he was coloring on the concrete with. “Luke said I could draw the tree!”

“You can draw one here,” Luke says, leaning closer to the younger boy and pointing to a blank space on the patio. 

“Don’t be such a baby,” Theo says to his brother.

“Theo, be nice,” Eddie scolds his nephew. 

Steve is over at the kiddie pool, kneeling by its side while his daughter Mia, three-year-old Tiffany Sinclair, and Jeff’s five-year-old son Brian splash around. Nancy is on the other side of the yard, playing cornhole with you, Ryan, Natalie, Jeff’s oldest daughter Candace, Gareth’s daughter Lynna, and Frank’s girlfriend Sara. Eddie knew they’d thank him for squashing a potential squabble between their boys had they heard it.

The eldest Harrington boy sighs. “Danny’s just mad ‘cause Luke is my best friend and not his.”

“I said you’re both my best friends,” Luke says, not looking up from the drawing of a fish he was etching. 

“I think you can only have one,” Jeff’s middle child, seven-year-old Jasmine, says, scanning through the pieces of chalk to determine what color she should use next. 

“That’s not true,” Luke says, finally pausing his drawing. He lets the orange slab of chalk roll out of his hand and turns his body to look at his father. “Daddy, your best friend is Uncle Steve. But he wasn’t your best friend in school, right?” Luke didn’t wait for his father to confirm. “Who was your best friend in high school?”

“Yeah, Eddie,” Gareth says, a playful smirk growing on his face as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Who was your best friend in high school?”

Eddie takes a swig of his beer before responding.

“Didn’t you hear what my boy said? Can have more than one.”

“I bet it was my daddy,” Jasmine says absentmindedly as she continues her drawing. 

Her comment makes Frank and Gareth chuckle.

“Aww, Jazzy! You don’t think I was Uncle Eddie’s best friend?” Gareth asks the little girl. 

“No.”

Her bluntness makes all four men at the table laugh, and Frank has to cover his mouth to avoid spitting out his beer. 

“Who was it, Uncle Eddie?” Theo asks. 

The three other former Corroded Coffin members look at Eddie with expectant faces, amusement gleaming in each of their eyes. 

Eddie wasn’t used to being the one to answer questions as their former DM—he was the one who told them what was what back then. 

“Nancy,” Eddie finally says. His asshole friends were having fun messing with him, then he was going to take the wind out of their sails. “Nancy was my best friend in high school.”

“No, she wasn’t,” Danny says knowingly.

Jeff, Gareth, and Frank bust out in laughter when the six-year-old calls their friend’s bluff.

A sigh falls from Eddie’s lips, and he drops his head forward in defeat. 

“Oh, it’s alright, Eddie,” Gareth says, leaning back in his chair once more. His fingers wrap around the neck of his beer bottle and as he brings it up towards his mouth he adds, “We all know your best friend was O’Donnell.”

Jeff throws back his head and cackles in laughter while Frank’s rumbling laugh goes on so long that it turns into a coughing spell. 

Eddie shakes his head and rolls his eyes skyward. 

“You know,” Eddie says, voice dripping in sarcasm, “it’s such a shame we all don’t get together more.”

[anon-402]

All 'Dia de Los Muertos' references in today's QSMP event

I’ve seen it in Xitter but not yet in Tumblr, so I’m gonna go and translate each Egg’s book with the references to the deities that are mention within.

(English is not my first language. Sorry for any typo or grammar mistake).

For Tilin:

Tilin, my girl, I’m sorry you couldn’t enjoy the life it was expected for you, but don’t be afraid you will be with mom at Chichihualcuauhco[1] where I will take care of you. I won’t let anything hurt my helpless girl until you have the opportunity to be reborn again, you didn’t deserve to join the Gods in the underworld. - Tezcatlipoca[2]

For Bobby:

My little Bobby, you have proven to own dignity and courage to fight for what is right, As a result of this, I’ve invited you to my kingdom  Tonatiuhichan[3], where at my side, you and other warriors will sing about their deeds and will dance until midnight, so you can enjoy forever the sunset that you adore so much. - Tonaituh[4]

For Juana:

Juana, it’s an honor for me and my wife Mictecachihuatl[5] to have you join us in the Mictlan[6]. Even though your dead was an accident, you may enjoy the journey that is our kingdom. You treated nature with respect in your life, so our dogs are excited to meet you at last. You will join us in the infinity of the universe forever. - Mictlantecuhtli [7]

For Trump:

Oh Trump, I’m sorry that my currents took you to this destiny, but to compensate I will invite you to Tlalocan[8], where you may join us in our celebration without end, and you may eat all the corn, amaranth, pumpkin, tomato and chile you want. In my kingdom, I promise you there’s no suffering and you will never be alone. - Tlaloc [9]

Now for all the little references:

[1] Chichihualcuauhco:

Afterlife in which children who died young or in childbirth are sent and fed from the “wet-nurse tree” (You can’t see it in the photo, but there was a tree in Tilin’s altar). Souls here wait for their next opportunity to be reborn.

[2] Tezcatlipoca:

He’s one of the four creator gods of the universe. I’m not an expert on Aztec mythology and I wasn’t really into Tilin’s lore, so I’m kinda uncertain as to why he was the one to write to them or how are they connected.

[3] Tonatiuhichan:

One of the afterlife paradises, where the soul of warries who died in battle go. It was believed that warriors could go back to their homes (land of the living) as hummingbirds. (Fun fact: Woman who died at childbirth would be given the same rank as the warriors who died in battle and would be sent to a similar place called Cihuatlampa!)  

[4] Tonatiuh:

God of the sun (who runs Tonatiuhichan), who most believed was the creator of the Flor of Cempasúchil.

[5] Mictecachihuatl:

Lady of the Dead, Mictlantecuhtli’s consort. She guards the bones of the dead. (Fun Fact: In Oaxaca, is known as Matlacihua, and is said to punish womanizing and drunken men who walk late at night. Kinda funny considering Mariana and Slime’s interactions lmao.)

[6] Mictlan:

The underworld. Most people who die travel to Mictlan. To travel to the kingdom, you have to go through nine levels, which kinda needs dogs to carry the dead across the river. Same reason as to why Juana is sent dogs. (Fun fact: Depending in the color of the dog, they would act different. Yellow ones would just carry the soul, white ones would refuse cause they just washed themselves, and black dogs would refuse cause they just swum the river.)

[7] Mictlantecuhtli:

Lord of the Dead, king of Mictlan. There’s nothing much to say about him; he just simply tried to maintain order in the kingdom and was kinda of an asshole to other gods. There’s a whole myth about other Gods wanting to repopulate Earth, and him going ‘Nuh uh’ until Quetzalcóatl gets tired of him and steals the human bones from Mictlan lol.

[8] Tlalocan:

The afterlife of the Nectar. Better known as the water paradise, where those who died through drowning (or anything associated with rain for that matter) go. I read somewhere that there’s a theory of Trump dying because he drown in his own tears, so that’s why he was invited by Tlaloc.

[9] Tlaloc:

The God of rain, associated as the giver of life. The flower Tagetes Lucida are kind of like the Cempasúchil, and are his symbol.