#h. helen n

[jaybirdscoffee]

helen doing the distortion laugh reawakened something within me

[cherrychan-0110]

Harmony and Horror x Dark Deception doodles

[emptymilk-bottle]

when did helen get into real estate

[misscrazyfangirl321]

Man, this episode has excellent moments for ALL of my ships.

Wash/Taylor?

"You know I wouldn't lie to you about anything."

(Also, "You shot me!" "I did, sir." "Good job.")

-

Josh and Skye?

"You hate me now."

"I... Do not hate you, Josh."

-

Maddy and Mark?

"I just came to see if you were okay."

-

And don't get me started on Jim/Elisabeth.

"Your husband."

"I don't remember."

"I know. You will."

"What if I don't? What if we both forget?"

"What I feel for you is more than memory."

[silkchvffon]

SHE'S ALWAYS BEEN LIKE THIS: inquisitive, curious, diving head first into business that isn't her own. but this is different. this is milos, her milos, and helen knows in this moment that there's just about nothing he can ever do that'll make her turn her back on him. « and you're important to me, » she breathes, eyes fluttering closed when he touches her. she rests her own hands against his chest, not caring if they get bloodied — actually she might prefer it. to feel like they're in this together. « and i want you, milos. but i want all of you. i don't want to be safe if it's not with you. »

HE ISN'T GOOD AT EXPRESSING HIS EMOTIONS, was taught to conceal them, never show any weakness. but he feels it, all of it, far more intensely than some might imagine. he hates that she even needs to ask him such a thing, that he's made her question it. gaze diverts to his feet, tongue pressing against the corner of his cheek. he's quiet for a moment, maybe two. there's part of him that does think maybe it'd be better if he gives a cold response, let their time end here. protect her from the parts of him he doesn't much care for. but he doesn't want to lose her. " you're . . . important to me. " it doesn't sound like enough, he knows, but words escape him. never been the type to outpour his affections. feet move, gaze finding hers when he finally reaches her. " i want you are, " admits, worn hands reaching up to cup her cheek. " i just don't want you dragged into this bullshit. it's ugly, brutal . . . you being here isn't safe. "

[lizzyiii]

Hello, I would like to make an obscene yandere request to Aemond Targaryen for a cousin who is a Helen of Troy, she never met her cousins ​​and Gwayne locked her in the lighthouse because the children in Antigua have already declared duels and fights for her, please

“Alexa play Angel by Massive Attack.”

A Beauty Too Tempting

pairing | aemond x cousin!reader word count | 5.4k summary | when aemond targaryen learns of his cousin—a beauty so captivating that men are willing to die for you—he becomes dangerously obsessed, determined to claim you for himself. tags | 18+ MDNI! smut, p in v, slight dubcon, fingering, oral sex (f) receiving, possessive sex, rough sex, virginity kink, breeding kink, obsession, dirty talk, no description for reader, creampie, religious guilt, guys this was crazzzyyy, yandere aemond, delusional aemond, obsessive aemond. a/n | this was such an interesting and creative prompt, damnnnn. also I think this might be the best smut I've ever written. KEEP BOTH HANDS ON THE PHONE (NOT PROOFREAD)

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Aemond had finally ascended.

His reckless, wine-soaked brother was a shadow of the past, burnt and broken beyond repair. Though the Seven Kingdoms still called him “Prince Regent,” Aemond knew he held the true power of a king—and wielded the might of a dragon unmatched in all the realm.

He was Prince Regent, yes, but also the rider of Vhagar, the Queen of Dragons, the slayer of Daemon Targaryen, the butcher of his treacherous half-sister and her rabble of bastards.

At God’s Eye, he had cast Daemon down, wresting from him the title of warrior to which he clung so stubbornly. And when Alys Strong’s deceit led him astray, she too had met the edge of his blade, her charms and false promises extinguished in the cold stone of Harrenhal’s dungeons. Now, what was left of his family was but the bones of the house.

Only his mother and his niece remained, the ones bound by duty and blood. Helaena, broken by grief and driven mad with sorrow, had thrown herself from her chamber balcony, finding an end that her shattered mind had long sought. Aegon, the crown’s fool, lay in a stupor of smoke and agony, burned and nearly lifeless after his fall from Moondancer’s flames.

But Aemond ruled now—his alone was the realm’s rightful power. The Seven Kingdoms were his to bend, as was his every desire. He had broken his betrothal to the Baratheon girl without a second thought; a warlord and dragonrider of his stature deserved a bride worthy of his legend. He was the last dragon of House Targaryen, and his queen would be a beauty revered, one whose grace and purity might rival the Maiden herself.

And that was when Aemond first heard of you.

Fleeting whispers had reached him from Oldtown, speaking of his uncle Gwayne’s daughter—a maiden so beautiful that men spoke of you as if you were touched by the gods. Tales claimed you had been cloistered away in the Watchtower’s highest chamber, veiled to protect the eyes and sanity of any man who caught sight of you.

There, concealed behind shadows and stone, you were kept far from the reach of suitors who risked life and honor in duels, each vying for even a single glimpse of your face.

Your father, Ser Gwayne Hightower, had fallen in the fires of the Dance, and your mother had died bearing you, leaving you alone in that desolate tower—an unclaimed jewel, hidden and waiting.

The thought stirred something fierce within Aemond. He would go to you, he decided. He would see this beauty so lauded, this Hightower daughter untouched by the world’s corruptions, and he would decide if you were worthy to become his Queen, his Targaryen bride. For if your beauty proved true, you would belong to him alone, bound by devotion and a loyalty owed only to the dragon and its rider.

After landing Vhagar just outside Oldtown, Aemond took a horse into the city, riding with the air of a conqueror. But even he was taken aback by the scene awaiting him. High walls surrounded the Watchtower of House Hightower, fortified and stern, yet it was the gathering outside that seized his attention.

Hundreds of men crowded the courtyard and spilled into the streets, shouting, some nearly brawling as they jostled against one another. Their voices rose in a fervent cacophony, names and cries echoing like a battle chant.

Aemond’s gaze swept over them with disdain. Fools, all of them, clamoring over the mere hope of being in your presence. As he approached the Tower’s gates, the guards lowered their spears and bowed their heads, recognizing the rider of Vhagar, the One-Eyed Prince who now held the realm in his grip.

They opened the gates without question, allowing him through to the Tower’s base, where a young servant girl waited nervously.

She kept her eyes down as she led him up the spiraling stairway to the highest chamber. But Aemond’s curiosity simmered, and his tone was sharp when he finally spoke. “Who are these men gathered outside? What madness drives them to swarm like starving wolves?”

The servant’s face went pale, but she dared to glance up briefly, voice trembling. “They’re suitors, my prince…men from every corner of the realm. Many have traveled from the Reach and the Riverlands, even as far as Dorne and the North, all to seek my lady’s hand.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, a dark satisfaction curling at the edge of his lips. While the Dance Of Dragons had gone on, you had become something of a legend—a prize for fools and hopeful knights. But you were not for them.

“Let them scream themselves hoarse,” he murmured coldly, mostly to himself, as they reached the final stretch of the climb. His voice softened, though the weight of his words was fierce. “By nightfall, they will know she belongs to me alone.”

The servant kept her gaze down, fearful of the silent promises in his tone. They finally reached the door to the high chamber, and with a deep breath, she pushed it open, bowing as he strode past her.

As Aemond stepped inside, the air was thick with expectation, and he knew: he would let none of those suitors have you—not while he still breathed.

A figure stood near the narrow window, framed by the dim light filtering through the high stone walls. Draped in a gown as pale as starlight, a delicate veil fell over your hair and face, obscuring your features with an ethereal softness.

You looked less like a woman of flesh and blood, more like some forgotten goddess cast down from the heavens, your beauty hidden behind gauze and shadow. Almost nervously, the servant girl who had led Aemond withdrew, sparing one last, uncertain glance before closing the heavy door, leaving him alone with the lady in white.

The room was silent but for the faint rustle of fabric as the veiled woman turned, your movements graceful yet guarded. You saw him—a tall, imposing figure shrouded in the black and crimson of House Targaryen, his silver hair gleaming like the steel at his hip.

Though your vision was blurred by the veil, there was no mistaking him. Even in the isolated walls of your tower, you had heard tales of him, whispered rumors that crept into your dreams. Aemond Targaryen—the One-Eyed Kinslayer, the dragonrider who had torn through his own blood, leaving most of House Targaryen ashes in his wake.

A shiver coursed through you as you lowered your head, barely daring to meet his single, penetrating gaze. You bent your head respectfully and murmured, “Your grace.”

At the sound of your voice—soft and lilting, as if it had drifted down from the heavens—Aemond’s breath hitched, and he paused, his gaze never wavering. You sounded like the very embodiment of the myths that had reached him, a voice so pure it defied the violence that had carved his path to you.

He took slow, deliberate steps toward you, each one bringing him closer to the veiled creature he had come to claim. “I am not only your Prince Regent,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “I am your kin as well.”

You nodded, your lashes fluttering beneath the veil. “Of course…cousin,” you replied shyly, your voice no more than a murmur, though it reached him clearly in the silence of the chamber.

Aemond’s lips curved, a hint of satisfaction flickering across his face as he closed the distance between you. “You must know,” he continued, his tone possessive yet calm, “that I have not come all this way merely out of kinship. You are spoken of as if you were a queen in waiting…your beauty, your grace. Men would kill for a single look upon your face.”

Your cheeks warmed beneath the veil, though you dared not lift your head. The idea of such fierce, consuming attention unsettled you, yet you could not deny the pull he exerted on your senses—a dark, magnetic power that seemed to draw you closer, even as your instinct told you to step back.

“And now,” Aemond murmured, lifting a hand toward you, fingers ghosting over the edge of your veil, “it is I who have come to see if these tales hold truth. To decide if you are worthy…to stand beside me as my queen.” He let the words hang in the air, laden with meaning, with possession.

Beneath the veil, your lips parted, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The One-Eyed Prince had not come to court or woo you like the other men clamoring below; he had come to claim you, with a certainty that brooked no refusal.

“Tell me, cousin,” he whispered, his tone heavy with dark intent, a veiled promise lying beneath each word. “Would you defy me if I named you mine?”

He drew closer, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a shiver through you as your heart hammered against your ribs. The weight of his claim felt as tangible as the stone walls around you, and in that instant, you knew defiance was a luxury that held no place here.

Before you could gather the breath to respond, Aemond’s hand rose toward your veil, his fingertips hovering just above its delicate fabric. A sense of desperation seized you, and your voice broke through the silence, raw and pleading. “Don’t! Please… I only wish to spare you.”

Aemond’s lips curved in a faint, humorless chuckle, his eye gleaming with something far more dangerous than mere amusement. “Spare me?” he murmured, as though the very idea amused him.

“You misunderstand, cousin. I do not seek to be saved.” His voice softened, yet the iron in his tone was unmistakable. “I seek only to behold my future wife.”

Your heart raced, every instinct urging you to step back, but your body seemed to betray you, rooted to the spot as Aemond reached out, his fingers grazing the edge of your veil. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted it, casting the thin fabric away and laying bare the face that had haunted his imagination.

The moment the veil fell, silence claimed the room, broken only by Aemond’s sharp intake of breath. His gaze devoured each feature of your face, sweeping over you with an intensity that bordered on reverence, as if he were drinking in the sight of a rare and coveted treasure.

He exhaled slowly, a low growl rumbling in his chest as his fingers traced a line along your cheek, his touch both possessive and tender. “Beautiful…” he breathed, his voice thick with awe and something deeper, something darker. “Far more than any tale could capture. You are… a vision.”

A flicker of fear mingled with the warmth on your cheeks, and you dared to lift your gaze to his, the intensity of his stare almost unbearable. He studied you, and you sensed it was not mere admiration that darkened his eye, but hunger—a need so consuming it seemed to radiate from him.

“From this day forward,” he murmured, his thumb brushing the line of your jaw, “you are mine. And I… I will allow no one, not even the gods, to take you from me.”

Your breath caught as Aemond’s fingers ghosted over your skin, sparking a fire that seemed to radiate through every inch of you. For a fleeting moment, your eyelids fluttered closed, helplessly savoring the sensation. But reality, sharp and undeniable, tore them open again, reminding you where you stood—and with whom.

“C-Cousin, please…” you murmured, your voice trembling as your hands pressed against the hard plane of his chest, a fragile attempt to create space. “This… this cannot be. You should not…”

The words stumbled from your lips, half-hearted at best, even as your body betrayed you, arching subtly toward him, drawn like steel to a magnet. A flush of warmth rose beneath your skin, pooling in your cheeks, and beneath the thin fabric of your gown, your nipples peaked, aching under his gaze. The rush of sensations nearly overwhelmed you, each one more intoxicating than the last.

Aemond’s lips curved in a knowing, wicked smile, his eye gleaming as he took in your struggle, your futile attempts at resistance. He leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours, so close that his breath mingled with yours, warm and heady.

“Wrong?” he murmured, his voice a dark, velvet caress, each syllable dripping with unrestrained desire. “There is no wrong between us, cousin. Only what was always meant to be…only fate and desire.”

Your heart raced, pounding against his chest, each beat echoing the dangerous thrill of his words. His hand slipped to the nape of your neck, his touch firm and possessive, as though he could bind you to him with that single gesture. He tilted your head ever so slightly, his mouth hovering just above yours, his gaze burning with intent.

“We are bound by blood,” he whispered, his words low and fervent, “by something far stronger than any foolish notion of right or wrong.” His lips brushed the corner of your mouth, a featherlight touch that set your skin alight. “Do you not feel it, the way I do?”

You barely managed a nod, your mind clouded by the closeness, by the undeniable pull of him. With a fluid, almost predatory grace, Aemond’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you firmly against him, so close you could feel every contour of his lean frame pressing into yours.

His chest was a wall of heat, solid beneath your touch, and your breath hitched as you became all too aware of the hardness pressing insistently against your belly.

“Let me guide you,” he whispered, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear, his breath warm and laced with promise, “to pleasures beyond the realm of mortal imagination.” His voice was low, dark, each word dripping with seduction as he continued, “Yield to me, and I shall make you mine in ways the world could scarcely comprehend.”

Every syllable curled around you, dissolving your remaining resistance like morning mist. Against all sense, your body softened, your resolve unraveling beneath his spell. Aemond’s words, woven with desire and power, coaxed you toward surrender. You melted against him, instinctively seeking the warmth he offered, your heart racing as his grip on you tightened possessively.

“Cousin…” you whispered, barely a breath, a mingling of plea and prayer.

Aemond’s lips curved, and he let out a soft, almost condescending click of his tongue, a smirk flickering in his eye. “I ask for so little,” he said, his tone deceptively light before his voice softened, becoming tender, almost reverent.

“Simply allow me to reign over you, to be the master of your heart and soul. Give me your loyalty, your love, your fear… let me own you in spirit and in flesh. Do that,” he murmured, his mouth grazing your jawline, “and I will serve you, worship you, slave to your every desire.”

A tremor ran through you as his hand drifted lower, fingers grazing the swell of your breast. Your nipple pebbled instantly, a jolt of pleasure-pain shooting straight to your core. You gasped, your hips involuntarily rolling against his straining erection.

“Please... ” you whimpered, your resistance breaking in the face of such carnal temptation. ”I-I am a maiden, a child of the Seven.”

A low chuckle rumbled in Aemond's chest as he felt your delicate form yield to his touch, your body betraying its innate desire despite your protests. His fingers curled around the plump mound of your breast, kneading the soft flesh through the thin fabric of your gown.

“Child no longer,” he rasped, his thumb circling your aching nipple, coaxing it to an even harder peak. ”Maidenhood ends today, and a woman shall be born.”

With a swift tug, he ripped the laces of the front of your gown, exposing the swells of your breasts to his hungry gaze. He palmed them roughly, thumbs teasing the stiff peaks as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss, plundering the sweetness within with his tongue.

"Mine," he growled against your lips, his hands roaming your body possessively

Your cry of shock morphed into a moan of ecstasy as Aemond's mouth ravaged yours, his dominant presence swallowing your very essence. The rough handling of your breasts sent sparks of delight coursing through your veins, your nipples throbbing in time with the pounding of your heart.

"No...no," you breathed against his lips, the words tumbling out unbidden. "This is wrong... this is sinful."

Ignoring your feeble protests, Aemond continued to explore your body with unrestrained lust. His hands roamed freely over your curves, tracing the contours of your body with a reverence usually reserved for sacred texts.

“Sinful indeed,” his voice was a husky purr against your lips. “Yet how sweetly addictive it tastes.”

His hands trailed lower, bunching your skirts to your waist to find the damp curls at the apex of your thighs. He groaned at the wetness he found there, a testament to your body's readiness for him.

“Such a delectable little cunt...” he whispered, his fingers slipping between your folds to test your readiness.

Your head fell back, exposing the vulnerable column of your throat as Aemond's skilled fingers delved deeper, stroking your slickened flesh with a confident touch. A shudder rippled through you, your hips canting upwards in desperate pursuit of more.

“P-please...” you gasped, your voice trembling with devastation. “I...I've never...”

Aemond's knowing smirk only heightened your mortification, yet it couldn't quell the inferno building inside you. Your body was aflame, craving the release only he could provide.

“I'm afraid...” you murmured though your eyes were glazed with desire.

Aemond's eye gleamed with triumph as he watched you squirm under his touch, your innocence and inexperience only fueling his desire. He pressed a finger inside you, feeling your tight walls clench around the invading digit.

“Fear not, sweet cousin,” he cooed, his voice dripping with false reassurance. “I will be gentle... at first.”

He pumped his finger slowly, savoring the exquisite sensation of your virgin passage yielding to his touch. His thumb circled your pearl, applying just enough pressure to send jolts of pleasure racing through your nerves.

“You're doing wonderfully,” he praised, his free hand sliding up your thigh to grip your hip firmly. “Now, let's see if we can't coax out that pretty little scream, hmm?”

Your mind reeled, struggling to comprehend the onslaught of sensations assaulting your senses. Aemond's fingers moved within you with a practiced ease, each thrust and twist sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“N-no...stop!” you managed to choke out, even as your body betrayed you, arching into his touch. “It's too much!”

Aemond's grin widened, his eye flashing with dark amusement at your futile attempts to resist. He withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty and aching for more.

“Foolish girl,” he chided, his tone dripping with condescension. ”You crave this, every bit of it. Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind doesn't.”

He seized your wrists, pinning them above your head against the window as he loomed over you, his face inches from yours. His hot breath fanned across your cheeks, carrying the scent of smoke and masculine musk.

“Now, be a good little maiden and spread your legs for me,” he commanded, his voice low and commanding. “Let me taste you.”

Your chest heaved with ragged breaths, your body thrumming with a mix of fear and exhilaration as Aemond's dominance asserted itself. Despite your reservations, a traitorous part of you yearned for the promised pleasure, your core clenching in anticipation.

"N-no...I won't...” you stammered, even as your thighs trembled, betraying your resolve. Aemond's grip on your wrists tightened, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he forced you to submit.

“Please...” the word escaped your lips before you could stop it, a plea for mercy that sounded suspiciously like a plea for more, though confusion filled you, ”Why would you wish to taste me?”

Aemond's gaze raked over your trembling form, drinking in every quiver and gasp with sadistic delight. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke, his words dripping with dark promise.

"Because, my dear cousin," he purred, "I want to devour every inch of you until you forget your own name. Until all you know is my touch, my taste, my possession."

With a wicked grin, he released your wrists, only to grab your waist and throw you down upon your bed. You had no time to react before he settled between your legs, his shoulders pushing your thighs apart as he lowered his head, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh.

Your heart raced, pounding in your ears as Aemond's words painted a vivid picture of degradation and desire. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly at his mercy as he positioned himself between your spread thighs.

“And then, once I've had my fill,” he continued, his tongue darting out to trace the seam of your slit, “I'll make you beg for more.”

“No...please...” your protests dissolved into a whimper as his tongue made contact with your aching sex, the wet heat of it sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Aemond chuckled darkly at your feeble attempts to resist, the vibrations of his laughter sending shivers through your core. He increased the pressure of his tongue, lapping at your slick folds with relish, savoring the taste of your arousal.

“It's too much...I c-can't take it...” even as you spoke, your hips bucked upward, seeking more of that intoxicating sensation. Your hands flew to his head, tangling in his hair as you tried to pull him closer, to grind yourself against his questing mouth.

“You lie, sweet cousin,” he murmured against your flesh, his voice muffled but unmistakable. “You crave this, crave me. Your body sings for me, begs for my touch.”

He sucked gently on your pearl, the suction pulling a sharp cry from your lips. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place as he feasted on your cunt, his skillful tongue driving you closer to the edge with each passing moment.

“Release for me,” he commanded, his eye locking onto yours, burning with an intense, possessive hunger. “Let go and give me everything.”

Your entire being was consumed by the inferno of pleasure that Aemond ignited within you. His words, his touch, his very presence overwhelmed your senses until nothing existed beyond the coil of ecstasy winding tighter and tighter in your core.

“Ahh...oh gods...Aemond!” your cries echoed off the stone walls as you said his name for the first time and he pushed you relentlessly towards your peak. Your back arched off the bed, your nails raking down his scalp as you held him close, grinding shamelessly against his face.

“Yes...yes! Don't stop...please don't stop...” you babbled incoherently, lost to the maelstrom of sensation. And then, with a final flick of his tongue, you shattered, your release ripping through you with the force of a tidal wave.

As your climax crashed over you, Aemond drank in your essence, reveling in the taste of your release. He lapped at your spasming cunt, prolonging your pleasure until you finally went limp beneath him, panting and dazed.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction as he gazed up at your flushed face. He crawled up your body, claiming your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to plunder the sweetness of your mouth.

“Now, let us see how well you respond to other pleasures,” he murmured against your lips, his hand sliding down to cup your breast, thumbing your nipple into a stiff peak. “We have only just begun to explore the depths of your devotion.”

Your mind reeled, struggling to process the intensity of what had just transpired. Aemond's control over your body was absolute, leaving you weak and pliant in his grasp. Yet even as you trembled with aftershocks of pleasure, a thrill of anticipation coursed through you at his words.

“Other pleasure?” you managed to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. Despite the fear that lingered, a spark of curiosity ignited within you, drawing you deeper into the unknown realm Aemond promised to show you.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your breasts heaving with each ragged breath as he fondled them. The sensation of his calloused palm against your tender flesh sent jolts of pleasure-pain straight to your core, making you ache for more.

Aemond's smile was a wicked curve of his lips as he watched your reaction, delighting in the way your body responded to his touch.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I speak of the exquisite agonies of pleasure, cousin. The kind that make you scream and beg for mercy even as you crave more. The sort that leave you trembling and spent, yet yearning for the next touch, the next thrust...”

His hand slid lower, fingers tracing the juncture of your thighs before dipping into your drenched folds. He circled your sensitive pearl, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

“Shall I show you these delights, Beloved? Shall I push you to the very brink of madness and back again, all for my own entertainment?”

A shiver ran down your spine at Aemond's words, a delicious chill that mixed with the heat building inside you. His touch was both gentle and ruthless, coaxing out responses you didn't know you possessed. Your hips bucked involuntarily as he stroked your most intimate places, seeking more friction and relief.

“Y-yes please...” you breathed, the word torn from you on a moan. Your hands came up to tangle in his long silver hair, holding him close as if to anchor yourself against the storm of sensations he unleashed.

Aemond's fingers danced across your sensitive flesh, pushing you higher and higher until you teetered on the edge of another release. Your vision blurred, your lungs burned for air, and still he teased, denying you the release you craved.

“Please...I need more,” you whined.

Aemond chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending vibrations through your quivering form. He released your pearl, his fingers trailing up your inner thigh before gripping your hip possessively.

“More, hmm?”

He leaned back, his piercing gaze drinking in every flush of color on your skin, every hitch of your breath. “Very well, cousin. Let us see how you fare against my cock.”

With a swift motion, he shed his trousers, freeing his rigid length. It stood proud and unyielding, the tip already glistening with pearly wetness. Aemond grasped your ankles, spreading your legs wide as he positioned himself between them.

Your eyes widened as Aemond revealed his manhood, the sight of it making your mouth go dry. The size and shape were intimidating, but a part of you thrilled at the prospect of being stretched so completely. You nodded, unable to find your voice as he spread your legs wider, exposing you fully to his hungry gaze.

“Are you ready to be filled, to be claimed in the most primal way possible?” He asked, his voice a husky growl.

"Yes...” you managed to whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

Aemond's grip on your ankles tightened as he aligned himself with your entrance. The head of his cock pressed against your slick folds, and you could feel the heat radiating off him. You bit your lip, bracing yourself for the intrusion.

“Please don't hurt me,” you whispered, your voice tinged with desperation.

Aemond's expression softened slightly at your plea, though the intent in his eye remained unchanged - a fierce, almost feral hunger. He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, “I would never harm you, sweetling," he paused, "at least not unless you begged me to."

With that, he surged forward, his thick cock driving into your welcoming heat in one powerful stroke. Your cry echoed through the chamber as you were split open around him, your body stretching to accommodate his impressive girth.

“Fuck, you're tight,” he groaned, pausing for a moment to let her adjust. His hips flexed, pulling nearly all the way out before plunging back in, setting a relentless pace. So fucking perfect...

A sharp cry tore from your throat as Aemond's massive cock impaled you, the sudden invasion sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain through your core. You arched your back, nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move within you, each thrust driving deeper and harder than the last.

"Gods...it's too much..." you panted, struggling to breathe through the intensity of the sensation. “You're so big...”

Despite the discomfort, your body seemed to mold itself to his, craving the stretch and fullness he provided. Your inner walls clenched around him, trying to draw him in even further.

“More...give me more...” you whimpered, your hips rising to meet his punishing rhythm.

Aemond grunted in satisfaction at your wanton pleas, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. The obscene slap of skin against skin filled the room, punctuated by your keening cries.

“That's it, take it all,” he growled, his hand fisting in your hair as he angled your head back. “Scream for me, let everyone hear how thoroughly I'm claiming you.”

His free hand slid between your joined bodies, finding your swollen pearl and rubbing mercilessly. The dual stimulation had you writhing beneath him, your body wound tighter than a bowstring.

"Come for me, Beloved,” Aemond demanded, his voice rough with lust. “Come on my cock like the desperate little maiden you are.”

The words fell from Aemond's lips like honeyed poison, stoking the flames of your desire until they consumed you whole. Your release crashed over you like a tidal wave, your vision blurring at the edges as ecstasy coursed through your veins.

“Yes! Oh gods, yes!” you screamed, your voice echoing off the stone walls.

Your inner muscles spasmed wildly around Aemond's pistoning cock, milking him for all he was worth. The pressure building at the base of your spine reached a fever pitch before exploding outward in a burst of pure bliss.

“Aemond!” your name was a ragged gasp as you convulsed beneath him, wave after wave of pleasure washing over you.

Aemond threw his head back with a triumphant roar as your orgasm triggered his own. His cock pulsed inside you, spilling his hot seed deep into your clencing cunt. Each jet seemed to last an eternity, marking you as his in the most primal way possible.

“Take it all,” he snarled, grinding his pelvis against yours to ensure every drop was absorbed by your eager flesh. “You're mine now, forever and always.”

As the final spurts subsided, Aemond collapsed onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily as he savored the aftermath of their coupling.

When Aemond's release flooded your womb, you felt a sense of profound completion wash over you. Your body went limp beneath him, utterly spent yet deeply satisfied.

“Yours...” you echoed softly, the word falling from your kiss-swollen lips in a daze. “Forever and always...”

As exhaustion tugged at you, your limbs grew heavy, and the events of the day settled over you like a warm, thick blanket. Nestled in Aemond’s arms, you felt a strange comfort, a warmth you’d scarcely known, drawing you closer into his embrace as sleep beckoned. The solid strength of him, the steady rhythm of his breathing—it was all that held you tethered as your eyes drifted shut.

“Rest now, my love,” he murmured, his voice a low, satisfied rasp, laced with a possessiveness that left no doubt of his intentions. “We have much to discuss when you’ve recovered.”

Even as you slipped into the gentle embrace of sleep, Aemond remained vigilant, his gaze never leaving you. His mind churned with plans and possibilities, already anticipating the obstacles that lay ahead. He knew that securing his claim upon you—upon both of you—would not come easily.

His arm tightened around you, a silent vow to protect, to possess, to keep you from any force that might try to tear you from him. Whatever it took, no matter the cost, you would remain his. He would allow no other fate.

A faint, triumphant smile touched his lips as he studied your sleeping face, taking in the softness of your features, the way your hair curled against your cheek. Tonight, he would let himself bask in the satisfaction of knowing you were his, that he had claimed your body and heart as surely as he had marked it.

“Sleep well, my queen,” he whispered, reaching out to brush a stray curl from your brow with uncharacteristic gentleness. His thumb lingered a moment, tracing the curve of your cheek, committing every detail to memory.

“Tomorrow, I take you to your new home.”

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!

[angeloveiga]

So fucking gorgeous

[lovecanyon]

Inside Y/N L/N’s Bag | Vogue | Dad!H

MASTERLIST | PATREON

“Hi Vogue I am Y/N L/N and this is what’s in my bag.”

After she introduces herself, Y/N looks down at the bag in her lap. The bag she had used every single day was a personalized Pleasing mesh bag. It was a light pink color and had a blue ribbon tied onto one of the straps.

It was clear that it meant a lot to her.

“What I carry with me everyday is this.” She says grabbing onto her bag. “You can fit anything in here. And the thing about this is, it’s technically Inez’s diaper bag.”

Y/N then grins at the memory of Harry gifting her the tote.

“This specific bag was gifted to me by my husband a while ago, right before he had launched Pleasing. My son actually loves this bag and has one of his own but smaller. He doesn't go anywhere without it.” Y/N shares.

Setting her carrier onto the wooden coffee table in front of her, the Styles woman reaches into her bag and pulls out a bag of candy. Beau's favorite type.

Y/N remembers the night when Harry had got their son addicted to the chocolate minstrels.

“My son is obsessed with these and when I saw them I had to get them for him.” She laughs. “I spoil my kids way too much.”

The next thing Y/N pulled out was her phone. Just a plain iPhone 14 with a case that she had stolen from Harry or borrowed it, so she said. Once she taps on the screen her face lights up.

Her lock screen was a photo of a newborn Inez sleeping on Harry’s chest with Beau right beside them.

She almost shed a tear.

“This is my phone, nothing special until you look at the lock screen.” Y/N grins. She loved her family so deeply.

After placing her phone onto the table, she slides her hand into her carrier pulling out a blue bandanna. It previously belonged to Harry until Inez came around and slid the bandanna off of her father’s head.

It was truly her favorite thing in the world. You could say it was sort of like a safety blanket for her.

“Harry’s bandanna or should I say Inez’s bandanna. That girl loves this thing so much.”

-

A small bag of diapers, bibs, toy trucks, hair clips that she had stole back from Harry, kids sunscreen, Love on Tour’s backstage/V.I.P passes, bandaids, Harry’s headphones, her family’s passports and a camera

“Since we’re currently on tour and always traveling I always have to carry my children’s essentials.” Y/N explains looking at all the items laid out in front of her. “You can never be unprepared.”

Just five years ago her bag was filled with very different items than now. She was now a mother and had a family with a man she’s always wanted to grow old with.

Two kids later and she’s become a changed woman, a better one. She’s always valued the life she had, especially right now. Y/N couldn't have been more happy.

“Another toy!” Y/N laughs, pulling out another toy from her bag. “A mini statue of our dog Kendall who was actually named after Kendall Roy from Succession since Harry is obsessed with that show.” She holds out a miniature dog in her palm.

Following the toy, she slides out a pair of rings that clearly belonged to Harry Styles since they were his initials.

Y/N leans forward and slips the rings into her back pocket. She remembers the last time Harry had lost jewelry. It was at Coachella and he went insane looking for them.

“We are not losing any more rings.”

Comments:

harryfan2 WHEN WAS THEIR WEDDING OMFG?????

harryfan10 best mother in the world truly

harryfan4 harry’s love for succession has me rolling 😭😭

harryfan8 this. is. what. we. needed.

harryfan13 THE LOCK SCREEN

harryfan7 i cannot stress how much i love this video

harryfan5 the literal girl version of harry

harryfan9 harry is finally y/n’s husband 🧎‍♂️

harryfan11 i’m literally crying

-

tag list: @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @peterparkerbae @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @drphilssoulmate @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @agustdpeach @hannahnikohl @whoscamila @ch3rryrry @msolbesg @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @youusunshineyoutemptress @cherryfragrancx @milkiane @golden-hoax @sunshinemendes8 @your--sweetest--downfall @melllinaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cashtons-wife @stellarossii @scenesofobx @manifestrry @lomlolivia

[sad-boys-book-club]

"&" Ampersand - A Literary Companion

Selected stories with the themes of Bastille's upcoming project "&" Ampersand. And, of course, a love letter to my favourite band.

PART 1

Intros & Narrators: Wallace, David Foster. Oblivion: Stories. Little, Brown and Company, 2004./ Nancherla, Aparna. Unreliable Narrator: Me, Myself, and Impostor Syndrome. Penguin Publishing Group, 2023.// Eve & Paradise Lost: Bohannon, Cat. Eve: How the Female Body Drove 200 Million Years of Human Evolution. Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, 2023. / Milton, John. Paradise Lost. Alma Classics, 2019.// Emily & Her Penthouse In The Sky: Dickinson, Emily. Emily Dickinson’s Poems: As She Preserved Them. Harvard University Press, 2016. /Dickinson, Emily. Emily Dickinson: Letters. Edited by Emily Fragos, Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, 2011.// Blue Sky & The Painter: Prideaux, Sue. Edvard Munch: Behind the Scream. Yale University Press, 2019. / Knausgaard, Karl Ove. So Much Longing in So Little Space: The Art of Edvard Munch. Random House, 2019.//

PART 2

Leonard & Marianne: Hesthamar, Kari. So Long, Marianne: A Love Story - Includes Rare Material by Leonard Cohen. Ecw Press, 2014./ Cohen, Leonard. Book of Longing. Penguin Books Limited, 2007.// Marie & Polonium: Curie, Eve. Madame Curie. Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, 2013./Sobel, Dava. The Elements of Marie Curie: How the Glow of Radium Lit a Path for Women in Science. Atlantic Monthly Press, 2024.// Red Wine & Wilde: Wilde, Oscar, et al. De Profundis. Harry N. Abrams, 1998./ Sturgis, Matthew. Oscar: A Life. Head of Zeus, 2018.// Seasons & Narcissus: Ovid. Metamorphoses: A New Verse Translation. Penguin, 2004./ Morales, Helen. Antigone Rising: The Subversive Power of the Ancient Myths. PublicAffairs, 2020.//

PART 3

Drawbridge & The Baroness: Rothschild, Hannah. The Baroness: The Search for Nica, the Rebellious Rothschild. Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, 2013./ Katz, Judy H. White Awareness: Handbook for Anti-racism Training. University of Oklahoma Press, 1978.// The Soprano & Her Midnight Wonderings: Ardoin, John, and Gerald Fitzgerald. Callas: The Art and the Life. Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1974./ Abramovic, Marina. 7 Deaths of Maria Callas. Damiani, 2020.// Essie & Paul: Ransby, Barbara. Eslanda: The Large and Unconventional Life of Mrs. Paul Robeson. Haymarket Books, 2022./ Robeson, Paul. Here I Stand. Beacon Press, 1998.//

PART 4

Mademoiselle & The Nunnery Blaze: Gautier, Theophile. Mademoiselle de Maupin. Penguin Classics, n.d./ Gardiner, Kelly. Goddess. HarperCollins, 2014.// Zheng Yi Sao & Questions For Her: Chang-Eppig, Rita. Deep as the Sky, Red as the Sea. Bloomsbury Publishing, 2023./ Borges, Jorge Luis. A Universal History of Infamy. Penguin Books, 1975. // Telegraph Road 1977 & 2024: Kaufman, Bob. Golden Sardine. City Lights Books, 1976./ Wolfe, Tom. The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. Pan Macmillan Australia Pty, Limited, 2008.

Original artwork created by Theo Hersey & Dan Smith. Printed letterpress at The Typography Workshop, South London.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Persistent | Yandere Asmodeus

You heard the whispers of a beautiful creature. One of the seven avatars known across the seas for their popularity in beauty, in the arts, in the general gene pool.  It was just another spec of knowledge you heard when doing your job. The biggest customers were quite talkative. 

“(Y/n)...did you finish that remedy of yours?”

You gave your mentor a nod, letting suspended gravity carry the bottled vial from your mini cavern into the waiting tentacle of your mentor. Her orange-red tentacle wrapped around it with ease, swiftly putting her labeling and signature on it before shoving it into a crate. 

She sighed, running her tentacles over the dozens of crates in a final count. She gave a satisfied hum before looping her eight tentacles into the various slots. You smiled to yourself—another successful batch. 

Retreating into your cavern you curled into yourself prepared to sleep until the next time Helene would wake you. It would be time to eat then.

It was like any other day.

“---keep it all to yourself! You have to tell me!” 

“--share with you?! Please! I should kill you for eve–”

You awoke to voices instead of the sounds of a crab being roasted on the fire coals. It was Helene yelling at a man, a customer maybe? It was a smooth highpitched voice cutely whining about something. 

It was kind of…irritating.

You didn’t want to bother uncurling yourself, somehow still lulled to sleep by the intensified yelling; mostly coming from Helene. Falling asleep you dreamed of tiny tasty slivers of crab to eat while Helene patted your head. 

It wasn’t a bother to you.

______________________________________________________________

“Oh my look at you! What’s your name?”

It was that voice, again. One you could barely place. 

It was hazy with your schedule of work-sleep-eat (maybe). Your hectic schedule made half-asleep experiences far from your top priority. This is why you slowly blinked at him before wrapping yourself in your tentacles. Ready to sleep again. 

It didn’t bother you until he did. 

A soft and manicured hand unabashedly grabbed a tentacle of yours slowly unraveling you’re protective spiral to pull you out of your cavern. You used your remaining tentacles to try and keep you inside only to be proved far too weak in the hands of the sea’s mighty avatar. 

He pulled you into the bioluminescent grotto, leaving you in the open. You shrunk into yourself prepared to ink the perpetrator and dart into one of the many craters of the grotto. You’re three hearts were beating a mile a minute. Where was Helene? Why wasn’t she here? Why was the shelf a mess? Her cauldron knocked over? Anxiety was gripping you harder than an oyster's maw. 

The beautiful merman on the other hand was none the wiser. Smiling as he playfully flicked his hot pink and orange fins. His tail was large and wavy; a dramatic flair that wasn’t helping you in any regard. He folded his hand behind him as he leaned closer to you, swimming closer as you curled away. 

“Hey! Why are you trying to hide? Are you surprised someone like myself just appeared?”

He posed flashing his scales and fanning his fins out. It did nothing for you, to see him this way. In fact, it made you all the more uncomfortable. You were getting closer to inking yourself relenting to somewhere- anywhere to hide. 

“H-hey, where are you going?” 

To the tipped cauldron. Curling as tightly as you could in hopes of limiting at least a little bit of your fear. It made the merman pout following you to the cauldron planning to use the same tactic as before

“Are you re-Aghagahaaaahh! What is that!?”

Cringing at the sticky and suffocating grasp of the ink. He jerked away, twisting his tail as if to relieve himself of the feeling. You curled into yourself only trying to facilitate your breath as the merman continued to howl about the ink and ‘his poor perfect skin.’ 

Soon all of it went to fade. Your tiredness, his crying, your fear. Once again you fell asleep. 

It was Helene who would awake you, having returned home to find your cavern empty, the grotto a mess, and a sorrowful wisp of ink leading into her tipped over cauldron. She knew what had happened and nothing more needed to be said as she joined you wrapping you in her strong tentacles. There was something soothing about her muscles lightly squeezing around you, as she whispered curses of the avater.

“That cursed merman! On my life, Asmodeus will pay for what he’s done! Believe it!” 

It didn’t mean much to you, her cursing that merman. It was a name she cursed often. But that must mean that the one who was here must be him. 

Asmodeus, huh.

You’re…pretty sure you don’t like him.

_________________________________________________

The next time he reaches for you, you bite him. You curled your outstretched tentacle back into yourself as he wailed again. It wasn’t as loud as before when you inked him but his arm was no longer in your cavern. 

“Hey you bit me! Bad octopus!” 

He stuck his tongue out at you before swiftly swimming away nursing his hand. That didn’t make him leave though. Instead the clinking of bottles and canisters persisted with nonchalant humming. 

This Asmodeus was looking for something.

“Aww not here! Geez Helene where would you put it.” 

You stayed in your cavern not even bothering to peek your head out to see. You could already imagine. Sleep was far away, your skepticism wouldn’t allow you to not when Asmodeus rifling through Helen’s products. 

Then there was silence. 

Did he leave? Did he find what he was looking for? 

“Maybe you know?” 

How didn’t you hear him? In a matter of seconds he swam from the bottom of the grotto to the entrance of your cavern, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. It was alarming. 

“Aww are you ignoring me again? That’s no good!” 

He puffed his cheeks for a moment, his expression changing to one of determination as he reached somewhere outside your cavern’s opening. He was clutching an empty but familiar viall with Helene’s signature label on it. 

“Come on! Won’t you tell me where I can find her batch for this? Come on! You can tell me!”

With his prodding came him pushing the empty glass into your cavern, careful to hold it by its opening–his fingers far from you. You let the glass touch you, flinching when he persists. You continue to curl away, not engaging was how you’d succeed. 

“Hey don’t ignore me!”

He continued to poke you with the bottom side of the bottle, whining consistently about the product he was looking for. Somewhere along the way you found yourself fighting sleep. Though you were sure he didn’t notice, you once again curled your tentacles around yourself for sleep.

“--cute!” 

________________________________________

“Coral-cutie!? Where are you hiding today? Are you mad about the pearl necklace last time?”

You were hiding from Asmodeus in one of the many crevices of the grotto, hardly bothering to sneer at the visible destruction of Helene’s work space. It was probably more disturbing that this had become a routine. He’d wreck her workstation sighing about what he couldn’t find and spend the rest of the day pestering you. Somehow the latter was what he spent most of his time doing here. Like clockwork Helene would return and curse his name before continuing to churn out another batch of her famous concoction. 

Now your days spent sleeping were filled with attempts to escape the avatar of the sea. Who insisted on doing all sorts of silly routines and dressing you in whatever trend he was ranting about now. It was exhausting at first but now you were used to it. 

“Ah! There you are! Trying to hide from me, you silly octopus!”

For the most part. 

You sat still in his lap as he reclined on Helene’s cauldron, turned on its head and its contents floating aimlessly. His fingertips danced along your suction cups, taking the time to explore their shape as if he hadn’t done it a thousand times before. 

“I never noticed before but you secrete a kind of mucus don’t you?”

Offended you retract your tentacles from his grasp, he put his hands up in defense. 

“It’s not a bad thing. In fact,” He paused easily peeling the limb from your body to his lips, delicately rubbing his lips against it. “It’s a lovely thing.”

You didn’t pull away. You only looked away from him as he went back to his usual playful.mannerisms. Easily letting your embarrassment fade to listlessness as though it were never there. You let your eyes roll to the back of your head with thoughts of whatever concoction of crab Helene would cook up. 

“--mine! Why can’t you just leave-”

“--I’ve already decided. I know all about–”

You woke again to the sounds of bickering done by none other than Helene and Asmodeus. Comforted by the walls of your cavern you realize you’d been moved from your spot in the merman’s lap. 

You weren’t complaining. 

It just meant that before this argument occurred you were returned to your favorite place. An oddly selfless action for the avatar who so usually was focused on himself. No matter. 

It was another altercation. A fight they’d usually have. 

Thus it was time to go back to sleep. 

“I’m not letting you have them!”

“Good thing I wasn’t asking.”

______________________________________________________

You awoke to the bobbing of a mer’s movements. Your head pressed against the chest of a merman who was unusually bare. No necklaces or diamonds to poke you as muscular arms tightly held you in place. 

Where was this? 

“Ah look at you! You’re awake! You sleep so much I never know when you’ll wake up.”

This wasn’t the grotto.

“You probably have never been up this high, always stuck in the dark.” He sneered, “That’s such a Helene thing to do.” 

Helene, where was she?

“It might take some getting used to, all this light.”

Where is she?

“But you can do it I believe in you!”

He squeezed in emphasis. Registering the light blue vastness of the world around you, you didn’t have enough freedom to look everywhere though. Unable to maneuver your head to look at Asmodeus’ face directly only getting a view of his well-sculpted neck and Adams's apple barely bobbing as he cooed.

What was that?

“What? Are you looking at those marks? No worries little suction cups don’t hurt that much even when they have fangs.”

You were hungry. Where was Helene?

“I bet you’ll love what I have for you, back home. Hermits, oysters, shrimp! You’ll adore it!”

Helene.

“Ah see we’re coming up on it now.”

Helene.

“So squirmy! But we’ve done this before! Don’t you know i always win?”

Helene. 

“Oh right.” 

He stopped his swimming, threading his fingers through your tentacles as he flipped you around. Looking straight on at the beauteous avatar of the sea’s face. Smooth with not a single blemish his rosy lips were gleaming a toothy smile.

“We’re never going back to that place again.

A toothy smile with shreds of golden hair, bloodied scraps, and the remnant of mucous membrane. All gone with a swipe of an elongated tongue swiping over his teeth clearing the way for a sea-swooning smile. 

“You’ll probably never want crab again.”

[librapacks]

♡﹒﹒ medieval period names !

FREE CONTENT : MASTERLIST ⸻ here is a list of 52 family tree names from the 300s — 1500s! for anyone needing names from those generations for fantasy or historical type roleplays.

masculine

A — alderic , aubri

B — bjorn

C — charles , chlodwig

D — duncan

E — ealdred , eberhard

G — gainfroy , godfried , gospatric

H — hemerich , hugues

I — ingram

J — jocelin

L — lambert

M — marcomir

N — niall

R — richard , robert

T — théodomir

V — vanbertus

W — walter , waltheof , waudbert , william

feminine

A — adela , alesia , aline , amalberga , argitta

B — bertswinda

C — christiana

D — derdera

E — eadgifu , eithne , eulalia

F — fraya

G — gerberge

H — helen

I — idonea , ingrid , industria

L — lucilla

M — mechtild

O — oda

R — reine

S — sabilla , syagria

T — theodelinde , thurid

U — urraca

[hausofmamadas]

JOHNNY DAVIS | Cheers to a (real) wild one

The Bikeriders (2023)

∴

At the request of my beloved df (dear friend) @narcolini, who wrote this fucking FIIIIREEEEEEEE disgusting, amazing, beautiful, ridiculous, obscenely and downright upsettingly well-written Johnny Davis x Reader fic -> called white room, and also brought my attention to the s e v e r e lack of Johnny gifs out on the interwebs, I am hereby dumping some of my fav Johnny moments from The Bikeriders aka just S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders for grownups nvm that they’re contemporary stories shshhhhh shhh it still works. So that we may all join hands together in a kumbayah-my-lordt prayer circle to levitate to the ceiling chanting spells appreciate and enjoy and gaze creepily lovingly at his beautiful, grizzled bisexually lovestruck sweet bb angel face that launched a thousand choppers eat your heart out Helen you got nothin on our golden boy and so that my df (dear friend) might regale us with additional installments of possibly the most in-character fanfic I’ve read in my life bc this man is in their bones, yall, dejame do TELLLL you like seriously go check it out, pls and thnku.

And so, without further ado I present to you the tumblr equivalent of my 7th grade diorama honoring golden boy, Johnny Davis:

Yeah, so this👇here is just him being fucking perfect and adorable, laughing at his malewife Benny’s red-light/stop-sign-running shenanigans, pretending like he’s not half as in love with him as he clearly is, him being so perfect it stuck in my memory, like gum to a subway seat and I knew, before I even got the request, before I even started screenrecording, that I was forsure, 1000000% gonna gif these

This👇here is him being fucking perfect, gazing sexily from across the bar, pretending he ain’t the big man in charge, going over to assure a reasonably sketched out Kathy of her unequivocal safety in his bar, all rolling up his sleeves, casually slow-walking over, like he doesn’t own the damn place even tho he abs does, like idc if it’s not canon (tbh bc I only saw the movie twice) but no one will convince that man’s name is not on the deed to that bar bc that’s the kinda guy Johnny is

Oh this👇one right here is just him being a perfect fucking commiserate professional club leader, offering to fight some dude who was challenging Her Majesty’s crown bc Her Majesty won’t let said dude start a Milwaukee chapter get real Milwaukee, you don’t even go here even tho after the fight, Her Majesty Johnny’s just gonna fuckin let the dude start it anyway, he wants to test a homie’s dedication, bc that’s the kinda guy Johnny is

These ones👇here are just him being fucking dreamy and perfect, all enjoying a Sunday afternoon ride into the sunset with his malewife Benny the fam, hair blowing in the breeze, ain’t got a care in the world bc that’s the kinda guy Johnny is

This here👇is him being fucking perfect, doing his best Brando-mugging at the camera, cigarette expertly hanging out his mouth by a thread, eyebrows up nearly to his hairline, all squinting like he about to fail a vision test at the DMV n giving them no choice but to take his driver’s license away, except jokes on them bc nothing and I mean n o t h i n g can keep him away from these mean streets or from his girlfriend that’s he knows is way too cool for him, Benny bc that’s the kinda guy Johnny is

This here👇is him being fucking perfect and positively heartbroken getting the news that his malewife has been attacked by some clowns in a bar from my malewife, a one Ponyboy-coded, Mr. Cal from California aka Boyd Holbrook in greaser drag and I normally am so not for blondies but by god am I here for that and plotting his inevitable revenge on those no-good mfs who did his girl so dirty, nearly taking away her ability to ride bc that’s the kinda guy Johnny is

This here👇is him being fucking perfect exacting said vengeance on behalf of his malewife, Benny aka The Girl Everyone Wants To Take To The Prom by finding the dudes who beat him up and then setting the bar on fire for good measure bc gottdammmititfkdjd nobody messes with MAH WOMAN bc that’s the kinda guy Johnny is. It’s also him hilarious with the comedic timing like look at how funny his face is just telling Brucie to burn it down SKSKSK

And this here👇is him being fucking perfect, watching the world burn enjoying the fruits of his labor, a Labor Of Love in fact, bc that’s the kinda fuckin guy Johnny is

And what’s more gold than that, right guys?? Never change. Stay gold, Johnny. Stay gold.

═

taglist: @drabbles-mc, @when-did-this-become-difficult, @complete-nonsequitur, @ashlingiswriting since yall read the fic

[not-a-big-slay]

birthday

John Wick x platonic!fem!reader

summary: while watching TV, you go on a rant about the absurdity of birthday gifts...

warnings: fluff, father-daughter relationship, established platonic relationship, horrible ahh parents, very tooth rotting, hopefully not ooc, trauma...

a/n: this platform has a lot of daddy john, but not much of dad john and that needs to change...this shit long as hell though, hope you enjoy it :)) also kudos to whoever finds the se7en reference

The hum of the microwave, heating up his food from the previous evening, rushed across the room and slowly mixed with dimmed voices of the television. The sun has already set and the remainings of its light shined into the room through red clouds.

John patiently waited for the beep, approving that he can eat his meal. It went unheard as you exclaimed from the living room, silencing it. "That's ridiculous." John looked over, but he could barely see the reason for your sudden speaking. His hands retrieved the plate from the microwave and he finally joined you on the couch. "These folks got their 16 year old daughter a car. A car, John." you widened your eyes at the man when ending your statement while said person just moved his eyes from you and the screen, trying to understand your reasoning.

You noticed his confusion and helped his mind get rid of it: "I mean, why? Like how is 16th birthday important? It's not like it's a big milestone. I'd understand 15 maybe, but 16? It's such an.. unsatisfying number, ugly even and not important." John seemed to get your thought, so you sinked back into the couch. "You get a license at 16." reasoned the assasin, catching your attention immediately. You looked over to him, furrowed eyebrows sending the signal of disagreement. "Which is bullshit, by the way, kids shouldn't be on the road." you stated before continuing, "But they got her a brand new car, she doesn't need all that, they could have given her like their old one or just let her share theirs, she is 16 how often will she drive that thing." while talking you have made so many hand movements that John needed to sit further away, worrying you might smack him.

The television broadcasted some reality show about spoiled kids from non-rich families. Neither of you really payed attention, but it served as a good backround while doing other tasks. That is until you got interested in its bizarreness. Parents, that previously stated they each had to find 2 jobs to keep their kids in school, bought their youngest daughter a new car. It was even one of the newest models as John noticed. They have said they would do anything for their kids and that birthdays were always so important in their family. That pissed you off, apparently.

“I know this comes from a place where no love was showed, but still, too much..”

John knew about your past, you knew about his too. You were just a kid when he first met you, both of you pursuing a man with a contract on his head. You have made a good competition and teamed up with the Boogeyman after many failures to kill him. After going through a near-death experience together, the two of you became a good friends and John slowly made plans to introduce you to Helen. He didn't plan on the introduction being at the funeral. His abandoned feelings of protection that were, until that day, stored for his wife poured into the other closest person to him and you gladly accepted them and even returned yours.

To say John was relieved when you obliged him with the refuge he sought after being marked excommunicado would be an understatment. Though he wasn't enterily thrilled after you insisted on fighting for him, you were the reason he could even have this absurd conversation in the first place. Being free could never feel so good without you.

"Like what did you get for your 16th birthday?" your voice pulled him out of the waters of his mind, the young eyes tracing his. He soon found his gaze interested in the empty plate on the table and with a sigh he reached for it and started to get up. You almost accepted he wouldn't answer, but his mouth let out the answer before you could: "A gun and a victim. Just like on any other day." John disappeared into the kitchen, but your loud "Damn." found it's way into his ears anyway and uplifted the corners of his mouth. Ruska Roma didn't care about these sorts of things. For them birthdays were just for the books and to track their age, no party, no gifts. The only gift he got from them was the cross, a symbol and a reminder he belongs. His first birthday party was with Helen and it was unusual to say the least.

You said sorry as he came back to the living room and John could see the regret and discomfort on your face. You got too talktive that you forgot this fact. The man came to your rescue and quickly varied the discussion. "What about you?" he asked as he sat down, petting Dog as he filled out the space between you two. Your mind digged deep to find the answer, John assumed from your scrunched face. At last, you shrugged: "I don't know. Money? Some candy too, I guess..." The voices from the television flowed in the house, but neither of you could hear them, too invested in whatever you started. The Boogeyman raised his eyebrows at you and you narrowed them in response, confused.

"That's much worse." he scoffed.

"Worse than having to kill a person?"

"Yes."

Your mind fully froze, not able to function properly. John internally laughed at your expression, but decided to not torment you any longer. "Parents giving money to their child is just sad. Money as a gift basically says the person doesn't know or care about your interest, so they give you money to make up for it." he started to explain, "Now, you can get some dollars from your other relatives like grandparents, counsins, aunts and uncles, because you don't see them everyday, they are allowed to not know what you like. But parents? People that live with you and provide for you should be at least familiar with it.."

He left you speechless, that he knew. Your mouth was slightly opened when he finished his monologue and slammed shut when you seemed to realize. "Well," you began once every word John shot your way striked you, "thanks for the additional reason to hate my fam more." You brought out a smile, but John's fell a little when he heard that. While not knowing him well yet, you told him you were an orphan, which wasn't surprising. Everyone in this deadly industry had no chance to have a normal, healthy and loving family. At least not that he knew of. What did shock him was when you admitted to lying after the funeral. Yet you wished to be an orphan, you had the bad luck to be born in a cruel home. Mother, a guilt-tripping monster with a victim mentality, and a father, anger-issued fanatic that tried to shape his children into his made-up idea of them. You moved out as a 17 year old and to at least finish high school, bowed to the High Table. You never had a stable home, John changed that. He offered you a place to stay once he was free again, he wanted you close to protect you, but also knew you could help with his old loneliness that never seemed to leave him. He never told you how much of a help you actually were.

John focused on the present moment again when you said: "I-I still can't see how can it be worse than a murder. At least I didn't work for money and got them for being born." Dog got up and let out a little bark. A sign for hunger, as you both understood. It got dark already and you gladly followed the dog's steps into the kitchen, John already in the lead.

"Ruska Roma at least didn't hide their uninterest, I knew what not to expect." he argued back as he reached for the dog pellets. Dog started eating before John finished filling up the bowl. That made you smile as well as hungry. John, as if almost sensing it, grabbed a plate and started to heat up the rest of the food. The familiar humming sound greeted the room again.

"Ah well, let’s just agree we both got worse gifts than a car and move on." you streched your hand out while the other rested on the counter-top of the island. John replicated your smile and shook your hand. The silence following right after sealed the agreement and the microwave dinged as in celebration. You walked across the island to take your food, knowing that John will be faster. "Birthdays are horrible anyway, I don't need to know I'm one year closer to death." you thought out-loud as the man handed you your plate. The food looked delicious. John always rather kept away from the kitchen, Helen was a great cook and even when he tried to make a meal, it ended in disaster. Once you moved in though, his guardian angels granted him the luck of finding an old recepe book his wife used. This was one of the easiest, but the quantity didn't define the quality.

"Would you rather not know how old you are?" John smiled and his eyebrows settled atop when you nodded. "Yep, I'd measure it in holidays." you joked, grabbing the cutlery, "In fact, I think 6th September should be erased from the existence. It's not an important day, no one needs it and it certainly doesn't bring any good." John watched you take the food to the table and changing the channel on the screen on the way, not realizing the crucial piece of information you just revealed non-chalantely. He didn't know your birthday, he just knew you were 18 when you met him, which was apparently 6 years ago. It was before he even engaged to Helen. He also understood you were old enough to drink once you downed 3 shots as if they were filled with tap water when you both tried to figure out how could John get out of his mess. Suddenly, a calender on the wall across him whispered his name.

Today was August 3rd.

.....................

Heavy sigh and the car door were last things he heard before feeling the dryness of his car. The raindrops that couldn't reach him before closing the vehicle were banging on the roof out of anger. John carefully placed the box on his passenger seat. He did everything he could to shield it from this afternoon weather, but some water managed to force itself through his coat, not enough to do a lot of damage fortunately. His eyes didn't peel away from it, John still wagered in his mind if it's a good idea. You weren't used to gifts from your real family, why should you accept his?

Without looking away, his fingers slipped the keys into ignition and his other hand played on the wheel nervously. He didn't take the receipt, he cannot return it. But he could survive the loss of money if this gift meant destruction of your bond. He wouldn't survive that. What if it's too far, you never cared for birthdays. For every September he has known you, nothing even remotely signaled him you might be different on the sixth day. You just wanted to forget you were ever born and he would set your mind back to the start with this reminder.

His logical sense slapped these thoughts away. You were a good kid, if you hated it you would tell him politely and be honest with him. And he knew you would keep it just for the sentiment you love so much. John turned the keys sideways and started following the mentally written route home, trying to keep his gaze from trailing to the passenger seat every now and then.

Even after parking in the garage and opening the passenger's door did he avoid the box's way. First he thought he could just close his eyes and take the box in his arms blindly, though overcame it and finally made contact with the white cardboard. A box is making him insane, brilliant. John grabbed the rest of his things and welcomed the hot air rushing to him as he opened the door inside. Dog barked at his owner as if he tried to warn John before rushing to him excitedly. The house was quiet and dim from the rain protecting the room of any light. You didn't bother turning on the lights and John knew you wouldn't. You hated the yellow glow it casted and how bright they were, natural lightning wasn't forcing itself into your view.

You came around the corner as the man got up from petting the good boy. He watched you ignore him, listening to music in one ear while the other earphone swished on your shoulder with every movement made. It was broken for a while now, but no one could be surprised. In the long time you've had them, you managed to step on them, close them in between the car doors and let the dog chew on one of the pods, which was the breaking point, John assumed. The rest worked fine, the quality still haunted him.

You turned around and caught a glimpse of him, immediately taking out the music and greeting him. He smiled in response while you already had your interest on the box, laying next to him. "What's in the box, Somerset?" you got close to it, but John was faster and picked it up quickly. Your eyebrows must have been suspicious of that act the way they connected.

"It's-uhh-it's-" the room picked up the heat as John's nerves shaked anxiously. He never had a problem with creating a lie on the spot, but your pose decorated with crossed arms on the chest somehow intimidated him. He was so sure you would be able to see throught the paper lid any minute now, so he tried to hurry his thinking up. "It's just some things for the car." he waved it off, leaving you slowly nodding in understandment, deciding not to ask any questions that you definitely had. John adored your capability of minding your own business, he more adored the fact you have learned it from him. You were very curious about everything when he met you, trying to know everyone around you to the last bit of detail. He was very strict about his personal life, so he introduced you to the concept of privacy through a lot of no's and death stares. Even now, when you two could be more than open with each other, you still didn't ask, nor cared.

"Want help?"

"No, I'll just take it to the basement."

"Alright." you said before putting in the earbud again and walking to the kitchen. John sighed heavily, hoping the nerves would settle down, and made his way to the basement. He hid it under a white dirty cloth, afraid it will disgrace the gift and left. Now the only thing left was to make sure you won't visit the basement for 2 days. 2 days, he realized. So, he is really doing it, huh? John froze thinking about the worst things that you could say or do as a reaction on his idea, the worst being you kill him, but that was unlikely, he'd done the math. Your humming got picked up by his left ear as he realized that the only moment to back up was in the car. He didn't, he missed it. The backdoor is closed and the only way to move is forward.

John checked the time. 6pm.

September 4th.

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

You were relieved that the store had air conditioning, because one more second in the outside heat and you would collapse. Your hands were trying their best at waving cold air on your head and chest, yet nothing could stop the sweat of going down your skin. Even though the sun has already set, the consequences of its hot presence still appeared in these late hours. You wanted to stop for second and cool off, but remembered you're supposed to get only one thing.

Salt.

It baffled you, why is it so important to get salt right now and not tomorrow as you were already getting ready to shower and to relax in bed when John asked you to get it. You weren't very happy about it, but you didn't feel like refusing him either. That man held a lot of respect from you and you never wished to upset him. Not that he would do anything bad to you, you just rarely told him no. Not sure where the need to please people came from, you were still happy it only applied to him. He deserved it after what he has done for you.

The store was as empty as its freshly baked pastry section. While strolling through, you only saw a few workers and some costumers hunting for evening snacks, all of them visibily tired. Your footsteps echoed in the big space, you wondered if they could be heard on the other side of the store. You thought about John's weird request, trying to justify it with a reason. None came to mind. Maybe he had a girl over, but you considered that unlikely. He clearly wasn't yet over Helen- reasonably so. Or he needed some alone time, you could admit being too annoying or too much for a quiet man like John, no judging.

The salt was hiding in a tricky spot, but luckily, thanks to your noticing abilities, you found it rather quickly and headed to the checkout. If the second reason was correct, you would be fine with sleeping somewhere else to not disturb his peace, but since you were already worn out and ready for the comfortable bed, you settled on taking the long way home, letting him enjoy at least the extra 10 minutes.

You knocked before entering, something you do automatically without waiting for a response. You kicked off your shoes, balancing your weight and the pouch of salt on one leg, and yelled out "I'm back." into the dark. The dark, you realized. Why were the lights off? The stars already began to shine when you were halfway home, so it was weird if John just forgot to turn them on. He wasn't the forgetful type.

"Hello?" you called out again, more quietly though, suspicion already growing deep in your stomach. Hearing the eery silence made you drop the salt and reach for a gun taped on the bottom of a dressing cabinet. Some comfort was brought by the click announcing safety is off, but it got lost in your high anxiety once you started walking deeper in the house, back steadily on the wall. The worst case scenarios accompanied you while every sense focused on the dark living room you happened to be in. You spinned around, walking backwards to the kitchen, your mind challenging the intruder to show themselves. Suddenly, the door creaked behind you and it was enough for you to turn around rapidly and caress the trigger.

After taking in the view in front of you, you finally exhaled and lowered your gun, whispering the lord's name in relief. There stood John, glowing in candle lights, distressed by your unexpected presence and, of course, by the barrel of a gun. You didn't notice the kind of candles. Your palm held your forehead in order to stop its stressful spinning and your brain desperately trying to convince your heart to calm down, you were too busy to recognize it.

Lights above you brightened your eyelids and you felt a pair of hands on your biceps. "What's wrong, what is it." John asked quietly, scared someone followed you home or has already done something horrible to you. You shook your head before sighing heavily, getting the last bit of shock out of your body.

"Shit, you scared the fuck out of me, John." Irritation attacked your tone as you leaned forward on the counter. Your mind only had pictures of the man dead on the floor with a bullet wound he gained from you. The bullet was so close to running out the gun and for what? For a cake?

Wait a minute.

Your head lifted up, eyes being instantly mesmerized by the flow of little fires on an icy surface. A cake. John has baked a cake. And you almost shot him for it. Your gaze flickered next to you. He was nervous, only you couldn't tell if it was from the near death experience from his own friend or from the possibility of you asking about the mysterious unexpected dessert. You made the latter come true.

"What is this?" you nodded to the cake, studying every move John made as though it would explain it for him. He took a deep breath before taking your own away: "It's for you. Happy birthday." The glow of the candles brought out your widened eyes, desperately trying to find a sign of a cruel joke on John's features. They failed to do so of course, you have never seen the man so serious.

It's been a while since you heard those words. You forgot how they hugged your heart and sugared your ears. You used to whisper them to yourself sarcastically with a harsh undertone when there was no one to trust or turn to. You've stopped though as it was cringe and overly depressing. You convinced your mind birthdays were for nothing, they give you nothing and are only important for knowing your age, nothing special. They made everyone emotional over a number of years and as long as you had no one, it was pointless in making it a big thing. It couldn't be denied John was your safe space, you would place your whole life into his hands and would be sure he'd keep it more protected than the High Table could ever be, you just never thought of bringing the concept back.

Amazed by the yellow waves again, you held your breath: "Are you serious?" John smiled a little as he answered: "Yeah. Now blow 'em out." You did as you were told, taking a deep breath and blowing it forcefully on the candles. They flickered and disappeared in the thin air. It was the first time in your life you got them all on the first try. Tears of forbidden nostalgia became impossible to hold in and you eventually let them go slowly from the prison of your eyes. When you made eye contact with John.

Without hesitation you close the space between you two and digged your face in the crook of his neck as your arms tightly wrapped his torso. His hands buried you in the feeling of safety and you felt shielded as they squeezed you into him. "Thank you." came out of you silently, only for John to hear. As a response, he took a step back to look at you. "You have no reason to thank me." his palm found its den on your neck as his eyes grew comfortable on yours.

You couldn't help but wonder if this is the way others feel on their birthday when they are surrounded by people they love and care for, by people that love and care for them. Because if it is, a big part of your birthdays was stolen, you would love them if they felt like this, you would wait a whole year only for this feeling, this sense of family, this certainity you are loved and you matter.

All of that left momentarily when John's hands let you go. "No reason to thank me yet." he bent down and came back up with a white box in his hands. He gently placed it on the counter next to the cake. After you clearly didn't understand what is supposed to happen, he gladly gave you a hint. "Open it." he motioned his head to it and you obeyed, carefully touching the lid as if it was a bomb that would go off any second. It's not like it was unlikely to hide a bomb inside a similar-looking box. You pressed the cardboard with your fingers and lifted it up.

You gasped quietly in order to help your mind take in the brand new headphones that shined at you maybe more brightly than the candles. They were white, wireless, so no annoying wire to slow you down, they were also overhead, too big for Dog to chew on them. You felt John's eager gaze, waiting for you to pick them up, but you felt even your stunned look would bruise them. You didn't deserve this, none of it. The happiness that danced into you the moment you realized John remembered your special day now began to look like a well-known and hated naivety. This love and luxury didn't belong to someone like you, what were you thinking.

"This- this is-" you began to panic. What would happen if you accepted it, would the world explode from the connection of two things that could never work together? You doubted it, but who would wanna risk it. "I can't accept this." Suddenly all you wanted was to run from the cake and the gift, you now felt like the bomb that you tried so hard not to light, that was supposed to be in that box. John's figure stopped you from going anywhere. "Yes, you can." You rapidly shook your head from side to side, his words couldn't distract you from the harsh reality. You weren't worth all of this.

"You are good enough for all of this and more." his calm tone was confusing for your stressed state, but the demanding adittude of his got through your walls and made you listen. "Take it, you deserve it."

Your hand subconsiously touched your necklace and pressed one of the daisies on it. It belonged to his wife, you found it when his house was blown to pieces and gave it to him once he started the repairs. He insisted on you keeping it, though. You protested, it was a gift for the love of his life, you couldn't take something that serious. "Take it. You found it, you deserve it." he said back then. You never knew her, yet you wore her jewelry, her gift.

"She would adore you."

Your eyes snapped to John, noticing him looking at your neck with a sad smile on his face. You lowered your hand and trailed your eyes back on your birthday gift. Without thinking you reached for the headphones, picking them up. They were suprisingly light and very comfortable to touch. As you put them over your head, everything went quiet. You didn’t know that an already silent room could get even more deafened, but here you were, hearing absolutely nothing.

"No way." you know you said, even though you couldn't hear it. John's smile got wider as you looked around in awe, it seemed like you were in a complete different place, not a boring kitchen. After taking them off, you sighed overwhelmedely, you could only imagine how beautiful the sound may be. "So?" John was interested, still a bit on the edge if the gift is good or not and only you could push him from it. However the only thing you did was throwing yourself around his neck, making him lose his balance momenteraly.

Before he could hug you properly, you already pulled away. "Now can I thank you?" you joked, but you could never make up for this. He had done all of this for you, that wasn't something you'd brush off with only two words. They lost meaning next to John's actions. "Yeah, now you can." was all you needed to hear to press into him again. John rested his head on top of yours, but not before kissing your hair and stroking your back.

You felt Dog nuzzling up against your legs and you looked down to see his happy, carefree face. He definitely woke up just no. You laughed and only noticed you were crying when tears fell into the corners of your mouth. You quickly wiped them away, turning away from John so he couldn't see. The man had the same problem though, also showing you his back while complaining silently about the dust getting into his eyes.

Once you both wiped your tears, you turned back around and laughed a little. This is all you needed. No assasin had this as far as you knew. Why two of the most deadliest people got visited by the biggest luck this world had in store. You looked back at Dog, his face excited for whatever you'd do. You sighed and rememebered the oh so good-looking desert on the kitchen counter.

"Want some cake?"

[initial-lime]

I have a window right across from my bed, I keep having nightmares where either the not!sasha, Jane prentiss or Helen distortion are standing outside it just. Looking in. Waiting to get me.

1. That window is two meters off the ground with no ledge to stand on, the thought that anyone could be standing on the other side perfect height to look in is terrifying in and of itself!!

2. The not!sasha is ALWAYS there. Constantly. Right across me where you’d expect to see your own reflection appear on the glass, never moving no expression just. Looking.

3. Eventually Helen distortion appears next to the not!sasha SMILING. Taking over the whole view, tapping the glass! Reaching to let herself in! The only way to keep her outside is to beat on the glass from my side routinely (in the dream at this point my POV: is just fully being as Jon and he keeps shouting things like “what do you want from me” at the things outside at this point)

4. Occasionally, the dream is interrupted by brief visions, as if illustrated on paper but still realistic, that I’ve been stabbed in the chest. And having to laugh them off like “hhaaha omg it’s so real (:”

5. Last I get another of the stabbing visions and when I return to the dream jane prentiss has replaced the Not!sasha outside and is also trying to get in. At this point in the dream I leave to run to another room to shake someone else awake.

Well for starters I’m terrified!!! But now that I’m analyzing the dream itself this is HONESTLY a weirdly thematically accurate dream from Jon’s POV circa s2-s3. He mentions having nightmares decently early on! I know those are of his own watching victims, but the fact that these are all fears that get him early on, the corruption, the stranger, the distortion And that they are all STANDING THERE. W A T C H I N G. Menacingly!!!!

The not!sasha is ALWAYS. There. Just like how it was quite literally in the archive pretending to be sasha just fucking waiting to get him. And it gets replaced by prentiss at the very end, like an inverse of how those fears came into his life with the prentiss attack also being the not!sashas way into the archive (:

Then there’s of course Helen, although she only appears in canon much later he is still very personally tormented by the distortion and I think it’s one of the few entities that he consistently shouts at/complains about (shouting when the doors appear, shouting when they won’t, asking what the hell it wants from him!)

And then also a bit more minor but the stabbing visions can both be seen as Melanie and the slaughter but personally I’d like to interpret it as Daisy/the hunt, since she would already be hunting him around the same ish times that those other things are around where melanine only starts openly threatening him with bodily harm post coma. This also makes sense because those visions aren’t really REALLY happening, it’s more like something wants him to know that it’s gonna get him

This dream is definitely just my brain finding a box of TMA stuff in the back and going “ooOOOooOOoo I can make something with this (:<“ hence why its all of these TMA things put together, I still think they way my brain put it together was really cool?? And it got me thinking about Jon’s early seasons nightmares before he knows what the heck is going on but is already being tormented by things much! Scarier than him

Anyways this has been quite wordy and is mostly just a way to calm myself from a weirdly realistic nightmare I just had, but I thought it might be some fun discussion anyhow (TMA fans will really dissect anything, even their TMA nightmares like it’s a thought out extension of canon KSHDJSK)

[emhasthoughts]

Gertrude and the cat-avatars, pt 5

Summary: Four new cats are introduced, they are running out of names.

A/N: "Oh, I will get one out quicker" *takes weeks to get another out* Anyways, I had not planned on ACTUALLY writing this far so uhhhh, yeah... I don't have much to say? I hope for the last two to be done before the end of the year but who knows if that'll happen

As always, not beta read, just me, my document and sickness. @dcartcorner

Pt 1, Simon, Peter, Elias and Mike / Pt 2, Michael and Helen Distortion, Agnes / Pt 3, Annabelle, Jude, Oliver / Pt 4, John, Jane, Maxwell, Manuela / Pt 5, You're here! / Pt 6, Melanie, Daisy, Basira, Georgie / Pt 7, Jared, Gerry, Nikola / Bonus, a visit to the vet / Halloween bonus!

The four showed up within two days of each other. Two and two.

The first one, that Gertrude liked the most of the four, was a cat with split colour. Nearly her entire left side was white and the fur nearly looked straighter and shorter. The other side was dark brown, nearly black, somehow looking more curly and longer than the other side. It was not a perfect split. She had more of the darker fur than the white. 

The other had at least four different colours in his fur. Mostly orange, the paws were black, looking like small socks, the face was nearly entirely white and there were some brown and grey spots all over the rest of the body. He somehow seemed to be smiling all the time.

The two were drastically opposite of eachother. The girl seemed patient and calm while the boy seemed much more chaotic with constant need to move. Gertrude had given the two some food before they left again. 

The next day they were accompanied by two other cats. The boy with a cat looking oddly similar to Peter. Though a bit smaller in size he still seemed much bigger than the other three. He also seemed much more shy than the first two. The second one was basically the opposite. Small, thin and black with barely enough fur to hide how undernourished he seemed to be. There were even some white streaks that gave him the look of an older person. 

Gertrude had not planned to let anyone, except the girl she named Sasha, to live with her. But she had left for three days and with that leaving the care of the cats with Leitner, who seemed to have no trouble letting the cats in. Assuming that the four lived with her. Leaving her with no room to argue as names were picked. The colourful one was named Tim (“I’m not naming him ‘Timothy’ Eric!”) and the one looking like Peter had been named Martin. 

Gertrude refused to be blamed for what the last one was called. Jon. The names had been picked as she had Jurgen over for a very platonic dinner, thank you very much Eric. Jurgen had suggested Jon and upon being reminded that there was already a John, he had stopped for a moment before declaring that this one did not have an H in his name. Gertrude really did not have a better name.

While Gertrude liked Sasha the most of the four, she could not deny how chaotic she could be too. Especially left alone with Michael or Tim.

[stupendouspizzacomputer]

INSANITY (Hellaverse x Isekai Male reader) BIO:

Name: Y/N L/N

Eye color: (E/C)

Hair color: (H/C)

Race: Human

Country of birth: USA

New Home: Hell

Gender: Bisexual

Weapons:

-Spear (Transformers/Transformers one)

-Twin swords

-One dagger

Age: 19

Like: Taylor Swift's music, videogames, movies, ice cream, hot dogs, pizza, protect his friends and family, Painting, Radio Broadcasts, Sabrina capenter's photos, Sculpture, bread, writing on ao3/art of our own, embroiderying, birds, feeling cozy, cozycore, autumn/fall, Winter, cosplay, hippo, handmade's works, watercolor, Spooky season, Bats, Bat, Fairycore, writers, Dropout's shoes, Traditional art, Halloween, art history, Plush, football, classical music, North Carolina, Drawtober, biology, writing on Nanowrimo, playing with Rpg games, book quotes, inktober 2024, Inktober, Short Story, Climate change, Dancing with the stars, Trans right, Grandmacore, Florida, Germany, Japan, Crochet, Northern Lights, Gouache, going to the library, Columbus day, Indigenous peoples day, Knitting, Plushblr, Cyberpunk, scifi, swifties, mtg, the eras tour, Black and White Photography, Zoology, Pusheen, 3dmodeling, blender3d, animation, chaggie, Mark rothko, memes, sketchbook, original Photographers, Incorrect quotes, Photographers on tumblr, Peru, writing prompt, april fools, Boop, Boop o meter, baseball, pumpkins, Gaza, Palestine, Free Gaza, Free Palestine, Gaza Strip, November 5th, South Corea, Pennsylvania, the sound of music, Farmcore, Christmas, Newyear, Webfishing, studyblr, Entomology, Originaldesign, Foryoupage, november, 5th november, gl2, gl2mv, Gachamusicvideo, Gachaanimation, baby, baby deer, babydeer, anime, asmr, asmrsounds, capcut, my, drawing, oc, fyp, swapau, sketches, movie, moviescenes, sketchbook, Nature Photography, Hazbin fanart, hazbin hotel comic, hazbin hotel headcanon, hazbin hotel fanfiction, animationtest, adobeanimation, Trending, rocknroll, acdc, music, virale, live, film, odderic, menswear, cinema , octopus, Shakespeare, reproductive rights, affection, infatuation, pet, poetry, cityscapes, gatti, cats, mensfashion, animals, food, falling leaves, vivziepophazbinhotel, gaming, cold, Trolledit, curiosità,

Dislike: Pedophiles, Rapers, gangsters, killers, Drug dealers, someone who hurt his friends and his new family, Hurricane Milton, Hurricane Helene, Israel, being abandoned, Psychological torture

Friends: Blitzo, Moxxie, Loona, Octavia, Millie, Fizzarolli, Vortex, Bill Cipher, Deadpool, Wolverine, Ford Pines, Dan howell/Daniel howell, Phil Lester, mimzy, sir pentious, egg boys

Harem: Velvette, Verosika, Josh, Coco, Apple, Kat, Milky, Kiki, Ace, Charlie (chaggie), Vaggie (hazbinhotelvaggie/chaggie), Emily, Monika, Sayori, Yuri, Natsuki, Desire (possessive behaviour towards Y/N)

Family: Alastor (1st Father Figure), Asmodeus (Uncle Figure), Mammon (Uncle Figure), Beelzebub (Aunt figure), Husker (Radiohusk) (Older Brother Figure), Angel dust (hazbinhotelangeldust/huskdust) (Older Brother Figure), Lucifer (Hazbinhotellucifer) (Uncle Figure), Niffty (Little sister figure) (Niffty hazbin hotel/Hazbin hotel niffty/Nifty), Carmilla/Carmilla Carmine (Mother Figure), Rosie (Aunt Figure), Missi Zilla (Older sister Figure)

Enemies: Valentino, Vox, Stella, Striker, Crimson, Adam, Lute, Exorcists, Sera, Cherubins, D.H.O.R.K.S., Satan, Andrealphus, Sukuna, Muzan, 1-Crowley, 1-Ferid, 5-Vampires

Favourite president: Joe Biden

Favourite Movie's actors: Hugh Jackman, Ryan Reynolds,

Favourite Singer: Taylor Swift

Favourite Studio: Studio Ghibli

Favourite race car driver: Land Norris/Lando norris (F1/Formula 1)

Hobby: artist

Powers:

•Super Speed

•Earth Magic

•Fire Magic

•Immortality

•Holy Magic

•Demonic Magic

•Blood Magic

Skills:

•Mental health

•Zoology

•Science

•Fire Ball

•Eath pillars

•Bloodlust

•Grasp Heart

•Omega Ark

•Divine Judgment

•Summon

•Stealth

•Poison

•Paralyze

•Aura Manipulation

•King of the Thunders (Zeus' Blessing)

•King of the Oceans (Poseidon's Blesssing)

•King of the Dead (Hades' Blessing)

•King of the Sun (Apollo's Blessing)

•Queen of Wisdom (Athena's Blessing)

•Queen of family and Marriage (Era's Blessing)

•King of the System (Sung Jinwoo's Blessing)

•Demonic transformation

•Angelic transformation

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His Army (Military):

-Generals (Genshin Impact/Genshin):

•Pierro

•Il Dottore

•Columbina

•Arlecchino (2nd Father Figure)

•Pulcinella

•Scaramouche

•Sandrone

•La Signora

•Pantalone

•Tartaglia

•Il Capitano

•Crucabena

-Liutenants (Mcyt/Dream smp/Minecraft/Evbo/Mineblr/Dsmp):

•Dream

•Technoblade

•GeorgeNotFound

•Wilbur

•Philza

•Tommyinnit

•Jack Manifold

-Soldiers (Team Fortress 2/TF2):

•20 000 Soldier

•10 000 Scout

•3000 Pyro

•2000 Medic

•12 000 Engineer

•1000 Sniper

•4000 Demoman

•5000 Heavy

•1000 Spy

-Elite Soldiers (Cotl/Cult of the Lamb):

•Leshy: Bishop of Chaos

•Heket: Bishop of Famine

•Kallamar: Bishop of Pestilence

•Shamura: Bishop of Knowledge and War

•Narinder: Bishop of Death

-Commanders (Homestuck):

•Karkat Vantas

•Dave Strider

-Y/N's bodyguards (Baldur's gate 3/Bg3):

•2 Death knights

-Airforce (Pokemon):

•3000 Beedrills

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Gods who have blessed Y/N:

•Zeus (Percy Jackson/Greek Mythology/Epic the Musical/Epic the Vengeance Saga/Percy Jackson and the Olympians) (Pagan)

•Poseidon (Percy Jackson/Greek Mythology/Epic the Musical/Epic the Vengeance Saga/Percy Jackson and the Olympians) (Pagan)

•Hades (Percy Jackson/Greek Mythology/Epic the Musical/Epic the Vengeance Saga/Percy Jackson and the Olympians) (Pagan)

•Apollo (Percy Jackson/Greek Mythology/Epic the Musical/Epic the Vengeance Saga/Percy Jackson and the Olympians) (Pagan)

•Athena (Percy Jackson/Greek Mythology/Epic the Musical/Epic the Vengeance Saga/Percy Jackson and the Olympians) (Pagan)

•Era (Kaos/Netflix/Greek Mythology/Epic the Musical/Epic the Vengeance Saga/Percy Jackson and the Olympians) (Pagan)

•Sung Jinwoo (Sololeveling/Manwha) (Pagan)