#its stressful keeping up with each time this happens cause it happens A LOT

[slime-dog-millionaire]

Y'all can full heartedly get behind the idea of aliens vs. ghosts fighting over a boy's testicles but where your suspension of belief ends is... the idea that a black or dark skinned person can coexist and participate in Japanese/Asian cultures...

[bangcakes]

.

[kisses4reid]

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 1)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, multi-part, pregnancy scare, reader has sort of a douche bf, one sided love (at first), angst and fluff

warnings - pregnancy talk, mentions of sex, unhealthy relationships, stress, sickness

w/c - 1.4k?? take a guess cause that’s mine.

a/n - i’ve got 9 weeks free. yeah, i have a job. and yeah, i have about 6 other hobbies i enjoy. but am i gonna make promises i can’t keep about writing more?? yeah. i am. here, enjoy. (pls lemme know abt mistakes it’s rlly late at night rn.)

The plane whirrs, small chatter from Morgan and who you assumed to be Penelope over the phone humming along with the music you try to distract yourself with. It isn’t working.

Because every song has its own special and quirky musical instrument that happens to sound like a message notification. And you keep getting your hopes up.

Your left leg started to bounce, your fingernails found their way to your anxious teeth. And Spencer noticed.

He noticed about halfway through the case, when you stopped talking as much, started drinking an influx of water, started discreetly taking pain medication. At first, he thought it was a simple stomach bug, and he knew your stomach didn’t agree with a lot of travel. But then you started getting nervous.

Spencer glanced at you a few times before moving, sitting next to you (attempting to be discreet). He can’t be discreet though, because every time he’s around you, his body does this weird thing where it can’t decide whether it should be instantly calm or instantly more nervous. Your presence stopped his fidgeting hands, his tired thoughts. But god, when he looked at you, it’s like his heart wants to see you for itself.

And right now his heart hurt, why were you scared?

You barely noticed Spencer sit down, usually you would, but your phone was annoyingly blank, silent. You turned it off and on three times, and re-entered the plane’s wifi password five times.

And now your stomach was grumbling, and not in the way that those nice small sandwiches can help out with.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped, taking your earphones out and staring at Spencer surprised. You laughed nervously, quietly, “Spencer! Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.”

His warm eyes searched yours and for a second you could ignore the tight feeling in your chest. It made you think back around 8 months ago, when Penelope, your childhood best friend and now co-worker, created a pros and cons list for both Lloyd, and… Spencer.

It was unprofessional and inappropriate, especially when you decided to listen because you had nothing better to do. And especially when she started making some good points.

He squinted his eyes, and you sighed.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit antsy. Feeling a bit… off.”

You felt sick, and stressed, and like your thoughts were going to be the cause of your death. Because you’ve never been sick like this. And to your overworked brain, it only meant one thing.

Spencer’s a great profiler. And although the team collectively agreed to not profile each other, it becomes hard for Spencer when the girl he’s in love with is so obviously in distress. Even worse when he can’t be the hero.

“I can leave you to sleep if you want.” He says, getting up to leave.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. Honestly, I think sleeping would just make it worse.”

Ah, right. Travel sickness, Spencer thought. He gaps his mouth slightly and nods. He relaxes into the couch and looks over to you, heart picking up slightly as pieces of hair fell from your loose ponytail.

You looked over to the table he was previously sat at, the book you gifted him last Christmas open and nearly finished. You smiled to yourself, but it was bittersweet.

“You’re actually reading it?” You asked, looking back at him with slight surprise.

“Of course. I’ve read it 6 times already, it’s a great pallet cleanser- Just like you said in that Christmas card!” He smiled childishly, like he was recalling the first snow.

“I know right! It’s so simple but interesting, I mean I’ve only read it three times but to me I always found it to clear my head.”

Spencer angled himself towards you, “Did you know that the author actually interviewed his daughter’s teachers to see what ages teachers were more invested in compared to class sizes? He said in an interview that depending on a students intelligence, there’s an underlying emotional connection made between student and teacher,” he took a breath, “It plays into the intelligence to ego ratio that so many people claim isn’t true. Which I’m not trying to say you have a big ego, or that I do-“

You waved you hands, “Woah, woah. Why would I think you’re talking about me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Well, you’re very intelligent.”

“Oh!… Thanks for thinking I’m intelligent, or smart.” You shrugged, “But I think you insulted yourself. You don’t have a 187 IQ for nothing do you?”

“You remembered my IQ?” He laughed nervously. His smile warms your chest like a candle. Like that candle he got you randomly in April, after you mentioned your favourite one being used up by your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. Ugh.

You smile falters for only a second, “Of course. You only mention it to every person that second guesses you.”

He nods and smiles, “Must be my ego.”

You laugh, subconsciously bumping your shoulder with his. But- Jesus. Your stomach is queasy.

“Hey, uh, do you want some travel sickness pills?” He reached over for his satchel but you grab his forearm and smile as convincingly as you can.

“No, no. We’re landing soon, but thank you.”

You’re overreacting.

That’s what he said. When you texted your boyfriend of a year and a half that you thought you were pregnant he said, You’re overreacting. Two words, two hours after your first text, on his day off.

Maybe you are. You started feeling sick on a slightly more gory case, it’s lasted ever since the case started, you get travel sick as well.

The headaches are from the computer screen and stress. The stress is from fatigue. The fatigue is because of the lack of sleep. The lack of sleep is because of the headaches.

Why do you always do this? Always thinking that there’s something wrong with you. Always being the biggest person in your own life, selfish.

But… what if?

There’s a sudden squeak from behind you, and you instantly snapped out of it. You took a deep breath and looked at your surroundings. You were at your desk, standing, the strap of your bag clutched in your hands - god, your knuckles were white. Your eyes darted in surprise and confusion, and you jumped once again when Spencer spoke into the silence.

“You okay?”

“Um…”

You didn’t look back at him, only looking down at your shoes and taking a deep breath. You plastered on a smile despite the bile collecting in your throat.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve gonna go, the bus leaves at um…”

You took out your phone. He didn’t even respond to your text asking him to pick you up.

“I’ll drive you home. But uh, I gotta pick up some groceries. I hope you don’t mind.”

He curved to your desk and gently took your bag from your hands, glancing at the way you traced your knuckles and how the leather strap now had slight wrinkles in it. He smiled, warmly. And he started walking like you rejecting the idea wasn’t an option.

Which is wasn’t, because he knew you too well.

“Well, a cucumber actually has 3% more water than watermelon. So if you really want a refreshing snack, cucumber is your man.”

You smiled and raised your eyebrows in interest. He’s had many vegetables and fruits in the basket, not a lot of protein. Explained a lot.

My man, you thought with a smile.

My man, you shivered.

“I don’t like cucumbers.” You said like it was distraction, and he nodded, picking up some kewpie mayo as he you around to the next aisle. He glanced at you,

“I know. You say it’s tasteless. I like it.” He shrugged.

“I know.” You smiled, and he smiles back.

God, you wish you could bask in it, the warmth. But your chest was still tingly, and your heart hadn’t stopped aching ever since you got excited about an email notification.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? I noticed you’ve been tense for like… a week.” He grabbed some pasta sauce and put his hand on your shoulder to turn you around - you obviously looked too far into your own head.

“Yeah, just feeling-“

“Y/n.” He turned to you, stopping your venture into the dairy aisle. His eyes were hard, worried. The fluorescent lights swayed slightly. A worker walked by the end of the aisle with a trolley full of food.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he lifted one arm, wanting to rest his hand on your upper arm, to help you, “Don’t say sorry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I have been feeling sick. That’s true. And I’ve been stressed and, thinking a lot. A lot.”

It felt weird to nearly tell Spencer about your relationship problems. It was like complaining to a doctor about healing crystals. It was like a slap in the face. Maybe that’s why you never did tell him about it, because it was facing your fears.

It was the pros and cons list made by Penelope.

But I’m overreacting.

“It’s nothing.”

Spencer sighed. You had that habit, of nearly opening up, and then shutting the door just as he was about to walk in.

You heard his sigh.

“Okay. I gave Lloyd my car because he has the day off, and he likes going to his friends houses on his days off. And, I told him something that should probably freak him out. But he doesn’t really care. I don’t think he really cares, about anything. At least about me.”

You started walking, because holy shit you’ve never said that out loud before, and Spencer followed you,

“Y/n, if you want to tell me something-“

“I think I’m pregnant.” You stopped, and started picking at your fingers, acting as if it was admitting to not knowing your left and rights, or that you don’t really like coconut.

His eyes widen, and his heart drops. It was like his worst nightmare coming true- jesus, how could he even think about himself right now? The girl he loved felt trapped with a man she thought might be the father of her baby.

Spencer gulped, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

You looked at each other, scared, you more than him. And then you cringed,

“God, I’m sorry Spencer. I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“No- Y/n, it’s fine. I’m glad you told me-“

“I haven’t even, like, taken a test yet-“

“Wait so-”

You spun on your heel and looked at him exasperated.

“So… let’s go get some tests.” He said (he hopes) calmly. He was really trying, to pretend to be calm and collected. That’s what you needed, a clear head to replace yours.

He paid for everything, even the 5 pregnancy tests and the over sized lollipop you put in the basket to ease your nerves later on.

The moon was high, you were about three hours late to get home now, and your head was attacking itself with rambles and aches and honestly, you were sick of it.

You shivered, huddling in your jacket and drawing only slightly closer to Spencer. His silence was like a hook, drawing you in closer and higher and taking every word you had been thinking that day to the tip of your tongue.

You looked up to him. His hair fell into his eyes, the breeze reddening his cheeks slightly.

It’s Spencer. You’ve known him for nearly 6 years, but it feels like you’ve known each other for ever. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. Well, not everything. He doesn’t know how you feel in your own apartment, how every anniversary had been forgotten even when it was the ‘1 year’ mark, how you felt like you were raising an over grown child who could drink.

He knows you’re strong, but admitting all that? I’d look weak.

You have looked weak in front of Spencer. He stayed overnight in your hospital room, he held you when you watched a little girl die, he wiped your tears when you watched a sad short film during your break.

You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I don’t think I’m pregnant- Well, I mean I might be, but there’s a very low chance,” You started, Spencer’s jaw clenched for a millisecond, “I’ve just been feeling sick and… it could be because of stress from work, or just general stress- like, I don’t know.”

Spencer moved the grocery bag to his other hand.

“Kids are great, don’t get me wrong. Some people don’t get the chance to have kids. I mean…” You gulped, and Spencer finally looked down at you. But now, all you could do was stare at the car park’s concrete floor. Speaking out loud was like clearing your brain, the fog was lifting. “Lloyd doesn’t want kids. I do, at least in the future, not right now. I just hope it’s not with-“ You cut yourself off, and slow down a bit. Spencer matches your pace.

I just hope it’s not with him.

He gulps, and clears his throat, looking down at you with understanding eyes, “With everything that’s going on.”

“Yeah… yeah. You know, my job, my…” It’s no use lying to Spencer. He knows. He’s known, for a long time.

Your chest was tight, and you made eye contact with the pregnancy tests lying on top of Spencer’s groceries. The thought of going home, rushing to the bathroom, avoiding your boyfriend who was already waiting angry, made your throat close up. Because only now, when you were three hours late from work and ignoring his one attempt at a phone call, Lloyd texted, ‘I think you need to calm down.’ It was a bare minimum, and finally Spencer could see you realizing it.

No, ‘Wre you okay?’, ‘What’s making you think this?’ ‘Where are you?’

No. He was making you out to be the crazy one, the one to be over thinking, over bearing, too much.

You were confused. To put it blankly. And scared. And questioning your life decisions. And honestly you just wanted to curl up in a ball and to have Spencer make you bad cucumber salad at his warm apartment.

You looked up to Spencer but he was already looking down at you, reaching for his keys and nodding, “You can come to mine, it’ll be okay.”

taglist (open) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner

[gureumz]

project aphrodite

rating: explicit

member: jungwon

premise: in a post-apocalyptic world, you and jungwon are excellent scientists and are at the relative top of the list of people who are ideal parents for the next generation of this dying world. it's now your job to repopulate this earth so you ask your co-worker to pretty please knock you up.

notes: sci-fi elements, dystopian au, scientist!reader, scientist!jungwon, fem-bodied reader, reader is referred to as a woman, dom!jungwon, breeding, impreg kink (like heavily), dirty talk, platonic (?) breeding, co-workers with benefits (?), idk this is kinda speculative fiction but also suspend your disbelief a bit lol

a/n: first of my 1k follower special! not quite sure what order i'm following here but i hope you stay for the ride nonetheless! enjoy!

it's a strange feeling.

in your line of work, 'strange' is hardly any cause for concern. as a biologist with a concentration in genetics, you've seen all the ways nature does its job. from the familiar concepts almost all people learn about in science class like the basic 'mom-meets-dad-equals-baby' to the eerie methods organisms in the deep sea evolve to survive.

you've learned about it all, pored over each punnett square, stressed over the formulas. so, this shouldn't be anything to worry about.

and yet, you're still worried.

"i mean...what did we expect?" jay speaks up from beside you, eyeing the phone in his hand.

"we're presently some of the world's most brilliant minds so...," he adds, locking his phone before hunching over his desk. to your ears, it sounds as if he's trying to convince himself rather than you.

you scan over the document flashed on your own laptop screen. the harsh fluorescent lights overhead buzz nonstop, going on and on, a background hum all of you in the bunker have grown used to. at this moment, it lulls you into a daydream, vision swimming as you repeat the words in your head.

all government personnel with a status level 7 and higher are recommended to partake in project aphrodite. those falling under level 10 are strictly required. participation at this level is compulsory.

common citizens with a status of 9 to 10 are also required to participate. ample compensation for those successful will be provided.

"you're a level 8. it's not as if you have to," you mutter, fingers digging into your temples.

jay snickers. "how many level 10 government personnel are there in this ruined world? a few hundred or so doctors, another few hundred scientists, even fewer world leaders. that's not taking into account the difference in sex. my information's not up to date but last time i checked, there is a hell of a lot more men than there are women. it's a shitshow waiting to happen."

you turn to meet jay's eyes, not meaning to convey any certain emotion, but the way jay's expression falls leads you to believe that you look way more upset than you're letting on.

"oh shit, yeah," jay curses. "you're a level 10. i forgot."

you sigh, tilting your head back against the headrest of your seat.

"i'm sure they'll release more regulation soon," you begin. "this is just the initial memo. with our world hanging in the balance as it is, no one's gonna let this devolve into some patriarchal anarchy, i hope."

"yeah, of course," you hear jay agree. "most of the proponents of project aphrodite are women, anyway, so i'm sure they'll take extra measures to keep you safe."

you sit up straight, looking at jay once more. "this is the world, huh?"

you and jay pause before sharing a quick chuckle.

"'go make babies, or else,'" you say in a mock radio announcer voice. jay lets out a laugh, his voice echoing off the empty office walls.

the two of you fall into silence, as if retreating to your respective thoughts. all that's in your mind at this moment is your current project, the very thing the few people more powerful than you had assigned for you to do: leading your team in stopping that godforsaken virus ravaging the outside. you've been making steady progress so far, but with the weight of this new responsibility, you're not sure if you could keep the momentum up.

you realize with a passing thought that most of the scientists on your team are level 9s and 10s.

"well," you begin before you could stop yourself. you're suddenly overcome with a feeling of suffocation, the office space seemingly too small and continuously growing even smaller.

"i hope you find someone you'd like to procreate with," you say lightly, pushing yourself off your chair. you quickly gather your things: folders and binders and other loose papers in your arms.

you catch jay looking at you, a pensive look on his face. you stop as you're grabbing your reusable coffee jug.

"no," you deadpan. "not me."

jay's eyes widen, as if realizing he'd said something without really saying anything.

"i—no, wait—i mean...," jay stutters, ears quickly turning red.

you smile, patting jay's shoulder reassuringly. "in case you were thinking about it."

jay's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water and you can't help but laugh.

"these are desperate times, but i'm hoping it's not too desperate," you add. without waiting for a response, you turn towards the door, already making your way to it.

"besides, dr. isa lee seems more your type," you say over your shoulder one last time before pushing the door open and stepping out into the hallway.

---

"hey."

you look up from the microscope, tearing your attention away from the specimen you were examining. your eyes readjust to their normal focal length as a tall figure enters the lab, perfectly crisp white coat hanging off his broad shoulders, thin-wired spectacles resting on the bridge of his tall, straight nose. your lips feel strangely parched as he makes direct eye contact with you and you're left with no choice but to moisten them with your tongue.

"oh hi, dr. yang."

the other scientist chuckles, setting down a stack of papers on a desk in the corner. "i've been here for three weeks. please, call me jungwon."

you swallow. "right. jungwon."

dr. jungwon yang was a new import from the seoul bunker, having come to your own area's bunker merely a few weeks prior. he was immediately put under your supervision, an addition to your already elite team of biologists, geneticists, and virologists. off the bat, you could tell he was a man of many talents, coming up with unconventional solutions and arriving at answers quicker than anyone else.

his presence in your lab made your heart swell. in pride, adoration, or desire, you're not quite sure.

"uh, yesterday's results are in that binder over there, in case you want to go over them," you begin. jungwon walks over to your side of the long table, peering over the slide loaded into the microscope.

ignoring the way he brushes ever so slightly against you, you continue. "the director's dropping by later this afternoon, but i wouldn't be too bothered with that. he's just looking for someone to blame for the slow progress at this point. if only they could get us those materials we asked for..."

"have you read the memo?" jungwon asks abruptly, straightening up. he towers over you, his eyes downcast as he stares at your face.

"of course, you've read the memo," jungwon corrects himself, chuckling. "what i meant was...what do you think of it?"

"it's a government-issued memo, it hardly matters what i think," you respond, focusing back on your work in front of you, although all you do is stare blankly at the moving microorganisms, mind unfocused with how much of jungwon's perfume you can smell.

"it's your reproductive health that's on the line. i'm pretty sure your opinion counts for something," jungwon says with a pinch in between his eyebrows.

oh, a feminist. that's even hotter.

"okay, yeah. i appreciate the new guidelines they put out," you admit, looking back up at jungwon. "though it's the bare minimum, i'm glad they're letting us keep the autonomy of choosing who to...boink."

jungwon laughs at that.

"and free fertility drugs for anyone who wants or needs it. oh, also, thank god they didn't have the brilliant idea of putting a time limit on it. having read some crazy speculative fiction myself, the things people are willing to do in fiction are crazy. who's to say they can't do the same in real life?" you continue.

you don't notice the way jungwon's smirk grows as he listens.

"kind of makes the whole thing unsexy, don't you think?" jungwon cuts in, raising an eyebrow. you blink, unsure of what he's talking about.

"i'm surprised they're not monitoring us with cameras and hooking us up to EKGs and shit," he adds.

"oh," you say with a soft giggle, finally catching on. "i'm sure some people are into being watched."

"are you?" jungwon asks.

"am i what?" you answer.

"into being watched."

a pause.

you shake your head. "how about you?"

"oh no," jungwon says. "i prefer to keep what's mine for my eyes only."

"hm. possessive. that's kind of sexy," you mumble under your breath, a sudden surge of confidence coursing through you.

jungwon just stares at you, but you can see his pupils dance in amusement, taking in your whole face and all your features. you might have imagined it but he seemed to have peeked down at your chest for a second.

"do you think it's attractive for someone to be into lego-building? or at least, used to be into it. i'd give an arm and a leg for a complete lego set nowadays," jungwon asks, leaning against the table, and only now do you notice the veins running over the back of his hands.

you think about whether his arms are just as veiny.

"do you think it's a good trait to pass on an offspring? lego-building, i mean," he presses on.

"uh, yeah. good problem-solving skills," you answer, humoring his question.

jungwon nods. "do you think leadership skills are important?"

you smile, leaning against the cabinet opposite jungwon. you nudge his foot lightly. "i lead a team of scientists myself. of course, i think leadership skills are important."

"you and i both," jungwon agrees.

jungwon shifts, placing his hands in the pockets of his lab coat.

"how about dimples? do you think dimples are cute?" jungwon asks once more, one corner of his mouth upturned. a deep crease on his cheek appears.

a dimple.

"very," you admit.

"i see."

there's a silence that stretches over the two of you, and the weight of uncertainty is daunting as you stare at a spot on jungwon's tie. finally, after a few seconds, you heave a sigh, unable to take the tension any longer.

"this is the weirdest way anyone has ever flirted with me," you declare, looking up at jungwon through your lashes. he's grinning and you nearly shiver at how utterly attractive you're finding him at this moment.

"but it's effective," jungwon says. that was a statement, not a question.

you tilt your head to the side. "how do you know?"

"because you would have blown me off two minutes ago if it wasn't," jungwon reasons, crossing his arms. by doing this, he just made himself appear even wider than he is.

"always so calculated," you say, impressed.

you stretch your neck, easing your head from side to side, watching as jungwon fixes his gaze on the taut tendons of your neck. "are you also this precise in bed, dr. yang?"

jungwon approaches, a large hand resting on your hip. "that's for you to find out."

your breath hitches as you feel his thumb rub through the fabric of your skirt.

"later?" he asks.

"my place or yours?" you reply, fingertips grazing the front of his polo. you can just about feel the slope and ridges of his toned muscles.

"i'd like to be a gentleman, so mine," jungwon offers. "i'll walk you back to your room after."

"i was kind of hoping i wouldn't need to walk back after," you say, a hint of teasing in your voice.

"is that a challenge?" jungwon says, his other hand pressing firmly on your lower back. he pulls you to him and your hands involuntarily reach out towards his shoulders to steady yourself.

a few seconds pass before any of you speak again.

"that's for you to find out," you say.

---

"kind of weird, isn't it?" jungwon asks, panting against your neck.

your back is pressed firmly against one wall of his sleeping quarters, a wide, loft-like room, similar to yours. a luxury offered only to level 10 government personnel, the room gives its occupants enough space and enough privacy.

and boy, did you need privacy.

"what's weird?" you say breathily, fingers threading through jungwon's hair as he kisses down the column of your neck. his fingers nimbly undo the buttons of your blouse and you whimper when you feel him lick at the valley between your breasts.

"coming up to coworkers or friends then asking them to reproduce with you," jungwon responds, tugging your blouse off of your shoulders.

(you both held enough respect for the institution that employed you both, so your work lab coats were neatly thrown over the back of jungwon's couch before anything got too frisky.)

"see, it's the way you say it that makes it weird," you giggle. you pull jungwon back up to your face, kissing him fervently, tongue licking into his mouth.

"oh yeah? how would you say it?" jungwon challenges as he pulls away slightly, his nose grazing your cheek. he licks a stripe on the underside of your jaw.

"please, jungwon," you whimper, playing up the whine in your voice just a little bit. "need you to knock me up. make me pregnant, please."

jungwon grunts in your ear, reaching behind you to rip the zipper of your skirt down. you let the fabric fall to the floor, stepping out of it quickly, revealing the matching red lace panties you had in tandem with your bra.

"yeah? want me to cum inside you so many times that there won't even be the tiniest chance that you're not pregnant?" jungwon says lowly, kneading one of your boobs in his hands.

you nod, hooking a leg around jungwon's hip, pushing your core right up against the bulge in his pants.

"yes," you breathe out, dragging your clothed pussy over his straining cock. "let's be good citizens and have a whole bunch of kids, yeah?"

jungwon chuckles, hands hurriedly working on his belt. you take this time to kiss up his neck, still rutting against him, desperate for any contact.

"come here," jungwon says through gritted teeth as his pants and boxers fall to the floor. he kicks them off unceremoniously, yanking you towards the couch. your eyes briefly catch the flash of white that were your lab coats.

the two of you fall onto the cushiony surface, with jungwon sitting up and you falling a little less gracefully on him. the two of you laugh as you adjust yourself, righting your posture so you could look at jungwon.

"take this off," jungwon commands, pulling at your panties. you swing off jungwon for a moment, pulling off the garment in record time. you reposition yourself over jungwon, his cock standing tall, hard, and painfully red.

"come on, show me how bad you want those kids," jungwon teases, tucking your hair behind your ear.

you roll your eyes. "you gotta help with the diapers."

a second later, you sink down on jungwon, moaning wantonly at how much he stretches you out, filling you up effortlessly. jungwon throws his head back, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth.

"i'll quit my fucking job at the lab if this is how good it feels to make babies with you," jungwon groans, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

you whimper at his words, rocking back and forth on his lap. you angle your hips a certain way, the tip of his cock kissing at just the perfect spot inside you. you shudder, repeating your movement.

"god, you feel amazing," jungwon praises. "so warm, so tight."

"yeah," you respond. you're gliding up and down his cock, swiveling your hips as fast as you can. you clench down around him, the thought of jungwon cumming inside you your only motivation.

"filling me up so good," you add, watching as jungwon screws his eyes shut, neck shiny with sweat.

you move forward, attaching your lips just below jungwon's ear. you suckle on the salty skin, running your tongue over the spot, savoring the way jungwon lets a moan rip out of him.

"gotta let the whole bunker know this one's mine," you whisper as you let up on jungwon's neck. a faint red spot is left in the wake of your lips on his skin.

in a blink of an eye, your whole world tumbles upside down, jungwon's hands forcing you down on the couch by your waist. in a daze, you realize that jungwon has you pinned under him, his eyes wild with a hungry look in them. he pushes your legs right up against your chest, lining himself up with your entrance.

"the moment you start showing, no one in this goddamn bunker will have a single doubt who gave you that baby," jungwon counters, thrusting into you. he gives you no time to adjust, picking up where you left off.

you cry out, trying to anchor yourself on anything your hands can find. eventually, you find purchase in jungwon's shoulders. he feels your nails digging in, and he mutters a soft 'fuck', speeding up his movements, the wet sounds of his skin slapping against yours so incredibly obscene in the confined space of his room.

"give it to me, please," you say, meeting jungwon's eyes as he continues to fuck into you. his forehead is creased, a look of concentration washing over his face.

"cum inside, fill me up as many times as you want, fuck it deep in me," you continue, cradling jungwon's face in your hands, the tender gesture a contrast to how rough he's bein.

"god," jungwon groans, voice breaking at the end as he speeds up, but then he halts abruptly, his mouth hanging open in a silent moan. you feel him twitch inside you and you gasp, clenching down as hard as you can.

"fuck, yes, milk it all out," jungwon says. he starts to thrust up into you again, watching as his cock is slowly coated with his cum spreading all over your cushy walls.

you whine, your fingers finding their way down to your cunt, your middle and ring finger pressing onto your clit. you rub at it ferociously, the idea of jungwon's sticky release inside of you turning you on impossibly.

"i'm getting hard again, jesus christ," jungwon complains but his movements don't cease. he's shaking from the overstimulation but he wraps his arms around you, pulling your limp form up against him.

"rub that pretty pussy for me, babe," jungwon requests, thrusting up into you shallowly.

"make yourself cum while i fill you up for a second time."

---

"so?"

you jump a little at the sudden intrusion. you look up at jungwon through both of your reflections in your bathroom mirror. three pregnancy tests lie in a neat line on the edge of the sink.

"i just started the timer, jungwon," you reply with a laugh. jungwon turns you around to face him, kissing you briefly.

"hm," you say, looking up at jungwon questioningly. "you never kiss me unless you want something."

"well," jungwon begins, hands slipping under your sweater. "we can always kill time while we wait for the results."

you shake your head, but you're already pressing yourself up against jungwon. "you're insatiable, dr. yang."

jungwon winks at you, undoing your bra under your shirt. "you know it."

"plus, you just look too good in this damn lab coat."

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

born to die - m. murdock

a/n: IM NOT DEAD i am very busy with finals but this has been rattling around the old noggin for a while now. i took a lot of inspiration from @ellephlox 's fic strawberry rhubarb which i 100% reccomend bc its better than most fics including this one! hope you enjoy! as always reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: oh boy. torture (cutting, burning) some sexually suggestive talk (nothing happens but it's not consensual) readers dad abused her, nightmares, lots of major character death (but not permeant) ANGST!!! but with a happy ending! kidnapping, medical stuff, cursing, and if i missed anything, let me know! word count: 4.8k summary: as matt murdock's wife, your life is rather full of surprises. getting kidnapped by wilson fisk takes the cake as the worst one. pairing: matt murdock x wife!reader now playing: born to die - lana del rey "choose your last words, this is the last time/'cause you and i, we were born to die"

You would think after patching him up too many times to count, five years without him, and countless sleepless nights worrying if he was alive, you would think you’d be used to Matt Murdock and his world of surprises.

And then you get kidnapped, so maybe you’re not so immune to surprises.

It’s really such a shame too, because you’re storming out of the apartment, too angry to take notice of your surroundings.

Silly, foolish, ditzy you.

Because it isn’t like Matt hasn’t told you time and time again that you need to be careful, especially when you go out alone at night. But he’s so angry that he doesn’t even think about the potential dangers of Hell’s Kitchen at three a.m. when Daredevil has been tucked away for the night and Matt Murdock comes back out to play.

He’s been taking more and more patrols because with Fisk being out of prison he can’t help but be constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

How silly he was to think that maybe he could have it all—A successful law firm, good friends and a loving wife.

Silly, foolish, ditzy Matt.

But after a week of nonstop patrols, you’re both fed up and tired, and above all, you’re yearning for each other. Neither of you allow yourselves to be totally happy all the time. It would just make everything too easy.

So, after yelling at each other over, what? Patrols? Cases? Burnt dinners? You’re freezing on the streets, and you get about five blocks before you stop and rub your eyes.

This is dumb, you rationalize. Of course, you’re both stressed out and tired, but you’ve gotten through rougher times before, and you both made an oath. To each other, in front of his God, to love each other no matter what.

You realize you left your wedding ring on the table, the ghost of the metal around your finger haunting you. You were dumb for leaving and Matt was dumb for telling you to go. You’re made for each other.

You turn around to go back to your shared apartment, and then, someone grabs you from behind. Your first instinct is to yell for your husband, but you don’t get the chance to before you’re knocked out, by what you can only guess to be a gun or maybe a large fist.

• • •

You wake up in this dingy room, the lighting not suitable for much of anything except to make you afraid. The set up is almost comical and in a fucked up away, stereotypical for a kidnapping. You’re tied up to a chair, and the lights shine only bright enough so you can see shadows and rats scurrying along.

The air is this weird musk of salt and earth, and you realize you’re near the docks, and that’s about all you know about your current location.

Your head is still pounding from whatever it was you were hit with, but you can see another chair a few feet from you and a wooden table with various weapons laying on it. You don’t feel good about this one. Also on the table is an old school record player. You have no idea what the intention is with it.

You try to keep your cool, knowing that wherever you wander, your husband will not be very far off. That whatever is happening, he will be coming to find you no matter how upset he is for whatever it was you were fighting about earlier.

And then, out of the shadows, there he is. 

But he’s too big to be Matt, and he has a man standing next to him.

Frank, maybe?

And then you realize who this man is.

He’s Wilson Fisk, the kingpin who has done nothing but torture and kill people, shoving it in Matt’s face for years. Matt only met you after Fisk was put back in prison, and you know at some point in the five-year blip without Matt, he had escaped prison.

So, this is the first time you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Fisk. When he meets your eye, you do nothing but stare.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock. It’s a shame we must meet under these circumstances.” He tells you, taking a seat in front of you. His henchman stands behind the chair.

“It’s regretful to say the least.” You tell him, not intending to make any more of an enemy out of him than Matt already has, not right now.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your wedding. I remember my own, it was a rather special day.”

You know that was the day Matt took him down. The night that he, Karen and Foggy took him down.

“I’ve heard stories. It seemed like a lovely day.”

“You’re a much more gracious guest than your counterpart.”

“Well, I’m sure people say similar things about you and yours.”

He seems to consider this for a moment before nodding.

“You’re probably right about that, Mrs. Murdock. I wanted to tell you I’m terribly sorry these are the circumstances in which we are finally introduced. But it seems Mr. Murdock has been interested in finding out more about my endeavors. And you see, we simply cannot have that. I made a promise not to hurt Miss Page or Mr. Nelson but it seems you were not included in that deal.” Of course not, it had been a long time before you showed up. “So, you’re how we’re going to send Mr. Murdock a message.”

Huh.

So, this is how you die.

Well, you might as well go out with a bang.

“You see, Mrs. Murdock, When I was a boy—”

“I’m going to stop you, Mr. Fisk, because your sob story is rather dull. I know who you are. You were beaten by your father, just like I was. The difference is that I don’t use that as an excuse to murder my way to the top of the food chain. And you can torture me, assault me, whatever you feel you need to do. But if you think for a second that I’ll forget who’s coming to stop you, you are sorely mistaken. And if you think he’ll ever stop trying to find me, you do not know my husband very well.”

Fisk stares at you for a while, his gaze hardening into a glare.

“You’re right. You do know who I am. Because we’re rather similar.” He stands up and nods to the man nearby. “If Murdock can hear her far from here, make sure he hears her screaming.”

Then Wilson Fisk walks away, and you are left with the sickening gaze of a man who has no good intentions.

 The man goes to the record player and starts to play a song you recognize quickly as “Fly Me To The Moon” by Frank Sinatra. As he does this, he speaks,

“Hello, Mrs. Murdock. I’m John.” You stay quiet, and he just enjoys the song.

He picks up a knife from the table and goes to you, this grin on his face that makes you sick.

But you remember a trick from not only your childhood, but also from Frank who told you the key to remaining strong under torture—Distraction.

You stare straight ahead, trying not to mind as the man runs the knife over your skin. You think about Matt. You imagine him in his wedding suit, the smile he had on as you approached him down that aisle. You think about when he asked you to marry him, and—

A sharp pain slashes down your arm, cutting open the shirt you’re wearing. You yell in pain, before moving in to try and take deep breaths.

You can do this. Matt will be here soon.

You continue to breathe through the anxiety and the pain, trying not to think too hard about when John hums along to Sinatra’s voice, guiding his knife around your skin. Another cut finds itself on your shoulder.

This goes on for a while, with the classic song looping over and over again. John never seems to tire of it, no matter how badly you will for it to end. As the song ends in one particularly good loop, John hits your face hard, and your nose starts bleeding.

You try to think of Matt’s voice. You don’t listen to John’s torments, knowing it will only egg him on further. You just want him to burn at that point.

By the end of… Countless Frank Sinatra serenades, you have cuts littered around your body, dry blood on your face from your nose and tears running down your face. When he’s eventually done, two men cut you out from the chair and drag you along to a smaller, darker room. You are left in there with a small meal, and you just huddle against a corner, nearest a barred window out of your reach.

And then, you begin to speak for the first time since you saw Fisk.

“Matt,” You whisper, “I’m by the docks.” You tell him, not sure if he can even hear you. “Please, I’m sorry for everything, please just come find me..” You mumble, too tired and aching to try and do more.

• • •

The next day, or what you presume to be the next day since you have no way to tell how much time has passed, you’re woken up by a loud banging on the door of your.. cell..?

The same two men enter and drag you back to the room, where John waits for you.

“How are you feeling today, Mrs. Murdock?” He asks.

You glare.

“Fuck you.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

“What happened to the polite young woman Mr. Fisk and I met yesterday?”

You’re filled with unprecedented anger.

“I said, Fuck you!”

He wastes no time, grabbing a lighter off the table and starting the record player again. Once more, Frank Sinatra’s voice fills the room, and you’re pretty sure once you’re done with John, and then Fisk, you’ll bring Sinatra back from the dead just to kill him again.

You’ve never really been a violent person, but you suspect that it lives in the worst parts of you, just as it did with your own father. You’re much better at keeping it all at bay. Besides, it does you no good to be violent while you have Matt. He’s plenty angry for the both of you.

Oh, Matt..

This is how time passes for you. While John tortures you, burning you or carving into your skin, you think about how great it will be to choke the life out of the singer… And you think about Matt. When you’re in your dark little room, you talk to him. Even if he can’t hear you, you must hope that he’s looking for you.

• • •

Days pass. How long have you been here?

One night, you have the following dream:

It starts out as a memory. A memory of you and Matt. You’re lying in bed with him, and the sunlight is hitting his face just right. You love this memory, it’s one you recall often. He just has this angelic look to him.

Yeah, most people who encounter him, especially at night, meet the devil. But occasionally, you get glimpses of the angel you know he is. He’s sleeping, and you think in this state, he is the most relaxed you’ll ever see him.

Then, before your eyes, the dream shifts and you’re in this black void, on the ground.

Foggy, Karen, Frank, and Matt stand around you. You run to Matt but hit a clear shield keeping him from you. You bang on the glass, well, maybe it’s glass, you don’t know. You try to scream, but your voice never reaches your ears. You begin to look around, looking for a way out.

An eerie version of ‘Fly Me To The Moon’ plays as you glance over to Foggy and watch in horror as his body begins to turn to ash, just like Matt and Karen did when they were blipped. You scream, banging against the shield, but your screams are silent.

You glance back and see the same thing happening to Frank. No, no, no! It was never supposed to happen this way! Frank and Foggy, they lived! They got their time! They don’t die like this!

And then Karen starts too. You start sobbing, not wanting her to go. You had missed her so much, and you only just got her back. But soon enough, she’s gone too, and you’re left in front of your husband.

His hand comes up to rest on the forcefield and he frowns softly.

He says your name gently, and then adds, “You know it couldn’t last forever, right?”

And then just as quickly as before, he is gone again. You remain there in that void, sobbing and screaming though no noise reaches you. This can’t be it! You just got him back, you needed him! You couldn’t take being alone for another five years… Or more…

The dream transforms and you’re in this grand ballroom. People are dancing elegantly and you’re in this.. obnoxious ball gown. But across the room, you can see Matt. He’s dressed in an all-black suit, with a red masquerade mask covering his face. The mask has little red devil horns on it.

Now, the orchestra plays their rendition of Sinatra’s romantic classic. And you step towards Matt, attempting to make your way towards him, only to be met with a masked man, beginning to twirl you around.

You jump from man to man, until eventually, you’re dancing with a man in an all-white suit, a man you quickly recognize as Fisk. No matter how hard you try to escape his grasp, he holds on tighter. The two of you stop dancing now, amid the crowd of moving bodies.

Fisk grabs your chin and tilts it in Matt’s direction, just in time for you to see him bowing to another woman, kissing the back of her hand. Your eyes widen and you think, this can’t be real.

“When I kill you,” Fisk says, “He’ll move on. You’re easily replaceable, Mrs. Murdock.”

And then, in an instant, the woman with Matt pulls out a dagger and plunges it deeply into his abdomen. It’s then that the other dancers, besides you, Fisk, Matt, and this mystery woman, disappear. Matt turns to you and falls to his knees, clutching his stomach.

He tries to crawl to you, blood seeping onto his hands and the beautiful ballroom floor. He yells your name, and the woman stabs him again from behind, and you watch as your husband dies. You hear him screaming, hear him yelling your name. But Wilson Fisk keeps you in place. You can do nothing but watch as Matt Murdock meets his end again, unable to save him. You start to scream, thrashing against Fisk, ready to claw your way to Matt.

You wake up screaming, the nightmare haunting you. A guard bangs on your door, yelling at you to keep it down.

It was just a nightmare, you tell yourself. Maybe Matt heard your screams.

Maybe he’s already dead.

You force yourself not to listen to the voice in your head that says that.

• • •

One day, Fisk visits again, only this time, He’s covered in blood. That damn song is still playing.

You just stare. They have long since stopped tying you up, recognizing that you no longer have the energy to try and fight back.  He has this sick grin on his face.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock.” You say nothing. “Have you been enjoying your stay with us?”

You glare.

“I hope Matt kills you when he gets here, because it will be a lot less painful for you if he does it instead of me.”

Mr. Fisk just laughs at this and tosses something at your feet. You get down off the chair to see what it is.

Your face goes pale with realization. You pick it up and slip it on your thumb, with it being too big for your other fingers. Matt’s wedding ring. You know it’s his, it has your name engraved in braille on the inside. How did he get this?

As if reading your mind, Fisk speaks again. “I took it off his body after I killed him.”

Your head shoots up to him. What did he say?

“No.” You deny. “Fuck off, I don’t—I don’t believe you.”

“Your husband is dead, Mrs. Murdock. I killed him with my bare hands because he was stupid enough to come after you. Your friends will mourn you and Matt Murdock for a while, and the city will come to the realization that Daredevil did nothing but harm. I win, Mrs. Murdock.”

You feel tears start to fill your eyes, and you realize, no. He hasn’t won because you’re still alive.

Maybe not for long, but you are.

You gather the rest of your energy and leap up, lunging at the large man covered in the man you love’s blood. And there’s a part of you that gets it. Okay, universe, you win. Most people don’t get a second chance like the two of you did. And now he’s dead, and soon you will be too. You can at least try to kill Fisk.

But you barely get a scratch in, yelling and screaming obscenities at him, as John grabs your arms from behind pulling you away. Fisk laughs and shakes his head again.

“It’s been lovely knowing you, Mrs. Murdock. I’m sorry you’ll have to die, you had so much potential. John, when you’re done doing whatever you’d like to her, kill her.” You hear him say it, but you’re blinded by rage, by grief.

John laughs behind you and forces you back into the chair, tying you back up once more. He looks at you, enraged and grief stricken, and just shakes his head.

“You and I are going to have a lot of fun.”

He leaves for a few minutes, and you realize this is the first time you’ve been left alone in this room. You tug at the knots and realize that while John is a gifted torturer, he’s not much of a knot tier.

So you manage to wiggle out of the rope, approaching the table in front of you. You don’t have much time. Okay, maybe you won’t be able to kill Fisk, but John will do. You take a golf club off the table in front of you and turn to the record player.

You begin to smash the thing in, angrily cursing at it as Frank Sinatra’s voice fades off into nothing. When the song ends, the lights turn off. And then, red flood lights turn on in their place.

A back up generator. Lovely. You think that your smashing of the record player couldn’t possibly make the whole building’s power go off, but you don’t really care at that moment.

You’re tired. You won’t make it far, but you need to try. You grasp the club and open the door, being greeted with a man you don’t recognize. You smack him in the face with the club hard enough for him to fall to the ground.

The red lighting adds an eerie tone to the hallways as you creep around, concussing various henchmen that Fisk has working for him. You don’t mean to kill these ones, only John.

But you’re running out of stamina, peeking around corners. And that’s when you see him. John is just standing there like he knows you’re there.

“Come out to play, Mrs. Murdock?” He calls, approaching the corner where you are waiting on the other side.

You focus on his footsteps, taking a swing around the corner when you know he’s close enough. You hear a sharp crack! As he falls, and you can’t see the blood in this lighting. Good. You begin to hit his head in, sobs mixing with yelling. You hate him. You want him to die before you’re killed.

But you don’t get the pleasure, because a pair of arms are pulling you off him, and you begin yelling.

“No!” You yelp. “No, Fuck you! Let go of me! Stop!” You think it’s another one of his goons, and you just want to be able to finish the job before you die. The figure forces you to drop the club. “Please, stop, don’t hurt me—”

But he’s saying your name and turning you around to see him. You know that voice.

“Sweetheart, hey, it’s just me—” He pants, his hands going to your cheeks. “It’s me, It’s just me. I’ve got you.”

And you can’t believe your eyes.

“Matt..?” You whimper, not able to believe it. “No, you’re dead, this has to be—”

And then, Matt does something he wouldn’t do for anyone who wasn’t his wife. He pulls off his helmet so you can see his face. Oh.

“I’m right here. I’ve got you.” He says softly, his thumb gently rubbing against your skin.

That’s when you start to sob, falling against him, no energy left to carry yourself. His arms wrap around you, and you say it again.

“He told me you were dead..”

“I know.. I’m sorry, I don’t know how he got my ring but we’ve gotta get you out of here.” He tells you.

You’re so tired. You’re slumping against him as you try to walk, the warmth radiating off his body just drawing you to sleep.

The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Matt’s voice, begging you to stay awake.

• • •

You see flashes. Your parents, your dad. Nightmares of Fisk killing Karen, Foggy, Frank, and worst of all, Matt. You see John’s sickening grin on the body of spiders, and you’re chased by his cruel laughter.

But the dreams are filmier compared to what’s happening around you. You know Claire shows up at some point, and you’re thankful to her. Karen sits next to you sometimes, petting your hair, or sometimes it’s Foggy, talking your ear off.

You have fever dreams of Frank in full military gear, tormenting you.

“Not so tough now, huh, girl?” He teases. “You really thought you’d kill the big bad wolf? Solve all your boyfriend’s problems?”  

You say to him, “Husband, He’s my husband.”

• • •

Even in your dreams, where you were slashed and burned aches, and you long for the pain to end.

You wake up only once throughout these dreams, and it’s when Karen is playing music to try and calm you from your insistent nightmares.

Only one song snaps you out of it, and you hear it clear as day.

‘Fly me to the moon,” Sinatra sings, “Let me play among the stars,’

He only gets through a few more lines before you’re sitting up on the couch, screaming.

“No! Stop, please!” You cry, and in an instant, Matt’s arms are around you. “Matt, please, don’t let him hurt me, please! Please don’t die, don’t let him keep hurting me!” You beg, in a hazed, frenzied state.

“I’ve got you, No one’s going to hurt you..”

Karen turns off the music somewhere deep in the apartment.

“No..” You begin to grow tired in his arms again. “Matty, please.. You can’t die, please..” You whimper out, continuing to mumble out pleads as you fall back into your weird dream state.

• • •

You really wake up two days later. Matt’s hand is clasped over yours, and he’s just.. Sitting on the floor next to the couch, praying into your clasped hands.

Praying for what, you don’t know.

Your body aches. But something in you tells you you’re safe.

“Matt…?” You whisper gently, and his head shoots up.

“Hey..” He says softly, one hand leaving yours, coming up to brush your hair out of your face. “There she is..”

“You’re alive..”

He seems a little concerned you still had some doubts about this.

“I am. Fisk lied to you.. He never even touched me.” You nod.

“Did I kill him? The man you found me..”

“No. He’s just in a coma, I checked. He’ll be brought to justice.”

“I only wanted him dead when I thought you were too..” Because really, you would have nothing if Matt wasn’t there. Nothing to live for. When he was blipped away, you had the hardest time readjusting to life. Now you know if he died again, you’d probably go off the rails.

No love story is saved more than once. You used up all your luck. Now it will be doomed if he’s ever killed again.

“I know.” He said gently.

“How long have I been out? How long was I in there?”

“A week, and then you were out for four days here. They got you good, baby..” He says gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier.”

You frown softly.

“You did find me though. That’s all that really matters anymore.” You know you’ll be nursing scars for a long time. Physical or not.

“Still..” He said gently, and he brings your hand up to kiss it gently. “And I’m sorry I told you to leave that night. I was just upset, but this past week and half.. I feel like I’ve been going crazy without you. No matter how mad at you I am, I never want to spend another night without holding you. Knowing that you could have been…” His voice breaks, and he just sighs, taking a moment to lean his head on your hand. “I love you, so much.” He kisses your palm again.

How are you so tired again? All you’ve done is talk to him, but it feels like you just ran a marathon.

“I love you. It’s why I married you. Because you and I, we were always meant to be with each other. No matter what.”

He smiles weakly and reaches over to the coffee table to grab something. He slips it on your finger and for the first time in over a week, your wedding ring is back where it belongs. You see Matt is wearing his. Your Matt. Your husband. The only one you were ever meant to be with.

“Did Claire patch me up? I remember her being here..” He nods softly.

“Yeah, we.. we really owe her one. She was a huge help..”

“Karen and Foggy were here… And Frank?”

“No, no, Frank’s still in Illinois, I think?” You nod softly. “You were mumbling to him, though. I heard you… you were telling him you had a husband.”

You would laugh if it didn’t hurt.

“He called you my boyfriend. I had to correct him.” You grin.

“That’s my girl.” He hums. Matt gently lifts you so you can sit up and drink some water. Then, he climbs onto the couch and brings you close. His arms wrap around your freshly wounded skin and you have a rare moment of gratefulness for his blindness.

You sit in silence for a while.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently.

You think about it all. The torture, the cuts, burns, the small room. Fisk’s laughter, John’s grin. But something sticks out to you.

“Fisk said I was just like him.”

“What?”

“We.. We grew up similar, Matt, I mean.. What if he’s right? What if the only thing separating him and I is one bad move?”

Your husband frowns and shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, you are the.. the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You’re the complete antithesis of Wilson Fisk. Yeah, you grew up like him, but you’re living proof that you don’t have to go down the path he did just because of his background. You and I both know that there will never be a world where you end up like him. Especially not with me.”

You find comfort with his words. Not only did you make every choice not to be like Fisk, but you must’ve also made all the right decisions if in the end, you ended up with Matt. Oh, it won’t be easy, you know that for sure. You’ll never be able to listen to Frank Sinatra, and your upcoming nights are filled with nightmares and hauntings.

But one day you’ll be okay. One day You’ll be able to sit in the silence without thinking about it. One day you’ll get the image of dead Matt out of your head. You’ve spent many nights wondering about who will go first, you or him.

And then you realize the best-case scenario is that the two of you die at the same time, never living another moment without each other.

How would there ever be a world where you and your husband weren’t with each other, even just for a moment?

[simpsdept]

A/n: I writers block bad. Like- i need to do requests but can't- also, no pictures cause its too many ppl. (i listened to we don't talk about Bruno while writing this)

Info: reader is gender neutral

Fighting headcannons with (some) the Hazbin girls!

Characters: Carmilla Carmine/Velvette/Charlie/Vaggie

Genre: angst/slight fluff

Carmilla Carmine: She isn't one to fight, she's not someone to lose her composer over something little or not worth fighting for. But, she will argue if it's about something really important that you guys can't agree on. For example, if she wants to keep the dead exorcist thing a secret and you don't. Then there would be a lot of arguing and fighting that night, or even in the morning the following day if it' really bad. She'll also fight about wanting to keep you or her daughters safe if something dangerous is happening and you’re not hearing her out. She doesn't want to hurt you, she wants to just keep you and her girls safe.

Velvette: You two usually have small squabbles or fights, not full on yelling and screaming fights. But when you do have a big fight like that. It usually lasts from as short as five minutes or as long as a few days. Of course, it doesn’t mean you fight every single minute of the day, it just means you two will be salty and bitchy towards each other and break out into random fight on those days. There has been many times you two have broke up, had hate sex, and got back together.

Charlie: Fights are extremely rare. She’s not one to yell or raise her voice. She would rather handle everything calmly and politely. I’d say the only times she’ll raise her voice or yell at you is when she’s REALLY stressed- like maybe after Heaven doesn’t listen. Adam just straight up disrespects her, or when her mother won’t show up. Then she’ll yell and raise her voice. It won’t be specifically towards you, like the problem isn’t caused by you, but she’ll get madder if you yell back, or she’ll get sad and give you space, it really depends on what you’re fighting about. She’ll also raise her voice at you if you put yourself in to much danger. But she’ll quickly turn soft and hug you. She always feels really bad after you two fight, even if it isn’t always her fault only. Expect a lot of apology gifts (and a song if you’re lucky).

Vaggie: She tries her best not to fight. She doesn’t like to, but she gets so stressed, overwhelmed, and mad and can’t help it. Let’s be honest, she seems like she has anger issues and a low self esteem. So she gets irritated often. She wouldn’t start a fight for no reason of course, she will have light arguments with you more often rather than big fights, and the arguments aren’t that harsh either. I feel like she’d only get into a large fight if you were to reckless, she’s just scared of losing you. She’d feel so bad after though, she’ll apologize and say everything she did wrong, then you’ll cuddle for the rest of the night.

A/n: I’m not sure if these are OOC…cause I haven’t been on here for a while and forgot how the characters act a little 😭😭. Anyways I’m trying to post again!

[spotty-bee]

I watched the three Troll Movies the last few days and got inspired to make an Au! I was like, what would happen if a troll didn't turn grey all the way? What if they had lost hope, but not all of it? So I thought drew some fun designs and here they are!

Basically King Peppi was separated from Poppy's group and ended up with Viva's, causing poppy to think her dad is dead and is more frightened of the Burgens because of it. She starts to get grey marks on her body, but thanks to her still somewhat happy, bubbly personality, she doesn't go fully grey. The group has leadership issues since Peppi is gone, with a lot of infighting about what they should do and where they should go. Rebuilding society is a lot harder on the group, which is why it's so easy for kids like Poppy to get lost in the shuffle, nobody to really, fully take care of them.

Branch, still grey after the loss of his grandma and abandoned by his brothers, is there for Poppy when the adults are busy fighting or Poppy's friends have to go home. The two have a lot more in common in this Au, both fearing Bergans and their possibly return. So Branch gets her to help build his bunker with him, as well as explain his backstory to her far earlier than the movies.

Eventually the Burgans DO find them as the adults make too much noise both partying and fighting over what to do. Poppy and Branch are the only ones to realize and Poppy manages to convince her friends and a few others to hide in the bunker with them. More Trolls are lost to the Bergans but Poppy is fully recognized as leader by the ones she's saved. Branch and Poppy both agree to abandon their current location, going deeper into the woods where the foliage is so thick no Bergan can enter. Though there are a lot of dangerous wild animals and very little light. The entire town starts living in bunkers interconnected by tunnels. Rarely singing or dancing. They remain pretty undisturbed until the events of either the second or third movie... depending on weather Poppy got the pop string or if Peppi took it with him.

Other than that, Viva and Clay are the ones who carry out the events of the first movie. (Its not quiet the same, Creek is with Poppy's group and still a coward that gets kicked out, but he doesn't effect Viva and Clay's story.) For the second I'm leaning toward Peppi taking the string with him (but that can be changed), so Barb attacks the Putt Putt Trolls instead. However Viva and Clay also handle that, and Viva manages to steal Barb's heart in the process. (I'm not sure if Barb is the same age as Poppy or not, but in my Au she's between Poppy and Viva in age, so its fine.)

So right now its not until the time around the third movie that Branch and Poppy make contact with their siblings. Branch is more cold and doesn't talk much outside of to Poppy. Poppy is more withdraw, reserved and nervous. Both have continually greyed under the stress of taking care of their people, fighting off predators, getting supplies and hiding from Bergans. However Poppy's hope for her people has kept her going and Branch's belief in Poppy keeps him going.

Branch and Poppy also get together sooner than the movies, as they knew each other longer. (Poppy has a brief stint of dating Creek first before he betrays them and gets kicked out. ) Their relationship is good, they can talk without words and are almost always on the same page, but they also feed each other's anxieties and pessimism. Once reunited with their families and the more nitty gritty details have been sorted out (Who's the Pop Queen, ect, ect.) the two actually have to be separated for their own health, as they keep feeding each other's fear, dreaming up worse case scenarios and how to get out of them, trying to make a new bunker, hording supplies, ect. This temporary separation gives them a chance to get to know their families again.

Poppy didn't remember Viva at all in the third movie, so I don't think she'd remember her father either in this AU. So she has to build a relationship from scratch with people who already love her in Putt Putt Pop Village. Branch, meanwhile, hates being away from Poppy and hates his brothers who abandoned him. (Though deep down he really wants them back in his life.) It also doesn't help that he has essentially gone from a perpetually dark, dangerous forest to the brightly lit, busy beaches of Vacay Island, getting constant over stimulation. He's very resistant to his brother's help at first, but eventually realizes that their just trying to improve his health (Physically and mentally) and that fighting it is just hurting Poppy. (Poppy makes a turn about much easier than Branch does, reversing some of her greying. However when she and Branch get to visit during the temporary separation, Branch actually causes some of it to come back, which is when he realizes the others are right and tries to do more to get better himself.) After they do improve they're free to do as they please and reunite as an even better couple.

As for the events of the third movie with Floyd, either Viva helped the brother save Floyd by stealing him back, still inside the diamond prison, or Floyd gets taken after these events.

Anyway! Thats what I have for now! Let me know what you think and if you have any ideas or questions!

[thecartoonrambler]

Why Wander is such an important character

Very long post below!

Ill be rambling about Wander over Yonder, specifically, WANDER!!

The show in itself is already amazing, the episodes are short and fun, each character is oozing with personality and fun interactions and there are always ways in which it is all connected. Further on the animation of the show and overall look is absolutely adorable!

For me personally, Wander is simply such an important character and not for few reasons.

I love that Wander's silly happy go lucky personality is so addictive. He's a happy person, who gets happy by helping others in need, even to points where he gets himself in trouble (every episode LOL) But regardless i think they are such an important character traits to have (Happiness, altruism, Optimism).

In today's depressing and violent world, where everyone just fights with each other, a character like Wander can be a sense of hope or inspiration!

Of course, many main characters have these traits as well, but i think a key difference between Wander and many other optimist protagonists lies in their EXPERIENCE IN LIFE!

These other protags are innocent, naive optimists, because they haven't experienced "the real world" yet. And while it makes sense to have characters like these (as an allegory to growing up), they get really tiring and repetitive really quickly. They also commonly showcase optimism and naivety to go hand in hand. And its why a lot if people commonly believe that "realsim" is inherently "pessimistic" (it isn't btw. Theres good and bad in life, denying theres good, is denying reality)

Its extremely refreshing to have a main character like Wander, actually be hinted at being millennias old, repeatedly converting villains to good throughout the eons, out of a sense of duty (and perhaps also Pacifist revenge for his childhood, where its hinted that his entire planet was destroyed and he was the only survivor.)

not only is this also something that one learns, the more one watches (keeping the viewer intrigued) but the fact that so much about Wander's life and past is a mystery is what makes him a fascinating character. At first glance hes just some helpful guy, and the more you learn about him, the more you more you think "who is this guy?" Not in a negative way, but in a complete curiosity. Is it possible he's as old as the universe himself? If so does he know it? Who is he? What actually happened in his past? How did he live before his hat? Was there a time he wasn't as helpful? What caused him to change? Who is he? But at the same time, the viewer doesn't NEED to know. Theres no stress to, no hurry to uncover a mystery. Its like "mystery but it's actually completely low-key". I like that. (Im the kind to get into conspiracy theories or get crazy over plot holes, so the show managing this is insane)

Traits like these, especially in contrast to their personality being so so happy, child-like, goofy, charitable, it makes for an extremely interesting and fascinating character, that one doesn't commonly see in media! Which is really awesome! Someone that's seen so much horrors, lived through civil wars, yet tries to help a skeleton get together with a butch lesbian??

Its awesome!

Other that just that alone, he's helped me out personally! He in many ways reminds me of myself as a kid, i too was altruistic, always trying to help, struggled to say no, was positive and happy go-lucky and adventurous (well, as all kids i suppose), recently rediscovering the show made me realise how much i missed those personality traits in myself. That i had hidden them away, due to people making fun of me of being "too naive" and "too childish". Eventually Making me not talk to people really, and develop really bad self esteem. Rediscovering this show, and specifically how these "childish" traits can be seen in a very positive charming light, helped me realise that being scared of "coming off wierd", "coming off as toxic positivity" will always be worse than not being positive.... At all.

Ive heard from other people too that this show has helped them through tough times, and allowed them to reconnect with more positive thought patterns. Which is why i think characters like Wander are insanely important for media!!

Too much is too depressing all the time! We can create media (ESPECIALLY ADULT MEDIA) that isnt depressed. Positivity and happiness are not a crime! And im so glad a character like Wander exists to exhibit that!

[margueritedaisies]

I just love drawing families of fictional characters, its interesting to think of how each sibling would look. I try to make them different from one another but at the same time maintain familial similarities.

Jinzha resembles their mom, Muzha their dad, and Nezha's a good mix of both.

Also get ready with some sibling dynamic rant, mostly relation HCs by me.

Enough with the parent child dynamic

I want sibling dynamic. Where these three come to terms on what happened between them. Specifically Muzha and Nezha's interaction is the one I want to see.

Tbh those two's fates in the myth reminded me of Hyakkimaru and Tahomaru in Dororo.

Like Nezha and Muzha had so much potential to gain solidarity with each other. Because Jinzha could never relate to them as the ignored or unwanted child. Muzha has that middle child stuggle fr.

Muzha is the one so eager to gain their fathers favor trying to meet Jinzha's level . Nezha wants nothing from his father so he makes himself worse.

Muzha's frustration with Nezha is that Nezha is rebellious, disrespectful of their dad

While Nezha's frustration to Muzha is that Muzha is so blinded and always struggling to achieve something so futile. Deep down he hates how Muzha is suffering this way but he wouldnt speak of it. This is why they always at odds.

They should make a movie focusin the Li brothers fr

Other than overusing the actual myths.

Fuck the ending from the original myth, they didnt even consider how the children felt from all the abuse. Not even mention of Muzha's death.

Enough Ao Bing, what about Muzha???

And the moral lesson is just about "respecting elders"?? The story still had so much to wrap up. How can you call this a family if there is some sort of hierarchal system. A family requires empathy to maintain that connection.

Tbh its kinda realistic

Families and siblings can still inflict trauma from each other .And a story based on reconcilation is a good way for this to be about family counselling.

I wanna see the "what ifs". It could be each brothers own story of self healing from the trauma caused on each other.

Maybe Im getting my hopes up too much, but it could be a development for them to forgive, start anew and an opportunity to connect and catch up on what they missed on each other.

Edit:

As for Jinzha he also has his own struggles as the eldest. Keeping up the station as the golden favored and perfect son. But its Asian family dynamics, which means hes in a lot of pressure. But he is mentally and emotionally strong. The brothers always busy on his studies ,future responsibilities and training to be able to spend time together. Their timetables seemed to be planned out to always not meet. Jinzha especially had less freetime. And if he ever came across any of his brothers, it was only one of them never both.

He doesnt mind being a buffer for the other two feuding but it does stress him out that it will never change. But he'll make sure to give time and attention to both of them as much as he can.

Other than keeping up his fathers expectations he also doesnt want to fail as a big brother to them🥺😭

Muzha and Nezha can see his efforts so they do not dare hold anything against him. Muzha still keeps his competitive attitude when Jinzha's around but accepts any offered kindness from Jinzha. While Nezha enjoys his company when he gets the chance.

Also because I tend to hold on to this little bit of bonding😭🥺🥺Jinzha trying to be the best big bro

Thinking of the contrast in the future where Jinzha was tasked to torture Nezha destroyed me😭😭😭What did Jinzha even feel while he had to do it??

Also here some Nezha with his hair down again

[justcallmenikki7]

Hi, it’s Nikki.

I’m writing this to give you all, the ones who are still here even tho I’ve been basically hiatus for a while now, with some posts here and there. You probably all, also, saw this coming, but I’m sadly done writing.

God, im crying lmao.

Anyways, I realized after constantly trying to write something, outline, everything, I couldn’t write anymore. Maybe it’s because I went through a severe abusive relationship at the beginning of April 2022 to the end of November of 2022, and it completely changed me as a person. I lost a lot of love, likes, whatever you may call it, from that relationship. It changed me, and one of the things it changed in me was my love for writing. My spark isn’t here anymore, and I’ve been trying to hold on for the last possible year and a half for you guys, but it hasn’t happened. I’m afraid of change, I’m afraid of letting go, and have a bad time of accepting the fact that i mayve grown out of a phase, you know? My love for the boys will always be there, always.

What has also caused me lots of stress, and is a sign of losing my spark, has been trying to write and come up with ideas, and creat stories for those who have messaged me privately, and I feel terrible for not being able to do that, and I hate breaking promises/not keeping my word because I wanted to make you guys happy, and I’ve failed those individuals. I’m sorry for not finishing those requests, and I’m sorry that I never actually started them because I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to make you happy, but I couldn’t get anything out and so I sat for the longest time, trying to get a good paragraph, or in a general a sentence out, but i couldn’t and I didn’t.

And I’ve sadly relapsed the other night after almost 2 years of being clean from s/h. My depression has been in the dumps, and even tho I have so many positives going on in my life and such amazing people, and an amazing partner, my mental health is deteriorating and I need to focus on myself.

I know I’ve once done a short hiatus before and came back because sometimes a small break is good to have, but sometimes all things must come to an end, and I’m officially closing my chapter with tumblr and writing for good.

I’ve made a couple of friends on here, and those friends I want to address real quickly and say my peace.

@wickizer , girl you know everything and ily

@minniepetals . My gosh, I remember reading your story String of Fate when it first came out, and I swore up and down, still today I do, that it’ll be published in the hall of fame. Despite it being on its hiatus, it’s still the best story so far. You deserve an award for your writing, and your story Cry Me A River is such an amazing masterpiece. I’ve been meaning to read it all, but life has gotten in the way and I’m so proud of you. Even tho we haven’t talked in the longest time, I’m still cheering you on, on here and outside of tumblr.

@aft3rhrs . Love, you’re amazing and I hope you take care of yourself and take time for yourself. Self love and self kindness is a priority and make yourself a priority. Your writing is beautiful and I’m glad we befriended each other. I’m cheering you on, and always will. Thank you for being a kind person.

And every other writer that I bonded with on here, I love you and will be a huge cheerleader for you. To those who I reached out to when I was still new for advice, or for me to fangirl to, thank you for being kind and helpful.

And to my followers, the ones who cheered me on to keep writing when I first joined tumblr, thank you for being kind and supportive. I love each and every single one of you. You made this place a safe place for the longest time, and I’m thankful for all of you.

I’m sorry for the longest apology and me basically dumping my issues on here, I just needed to be honest with you all. I didn’t want this to sound like a ‘poor me’ ‘feel sorry for me’ but I needed to, like I said before, be honest with you.

This is scary for me, but this is me saying goodbye.

Love forever and always, justcallmenikki7.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for "not making time" for my ex

So I (21F) met my ex (24M) at an internship I held last summer. We started seeing each other and things quickly developed into a full relationship. We spent a lot of time together as we worked 10hr days together 4 days a week and he always wanted to meet up on weekends. For a while every date was an overnight and our physical relationship began very quickly.

Fast forward a couple months and I moved back to college as I am finishing up my BA atm. He knew this going into the relationship and I made it explicitly clear that if he wanted things to continue, it was going to be long distance (its about 2-2 1/2 hours away). Shortly before this time he became extra clingy and angsty about me moving saying things like I never made time for him (our dates even prior to were never less than 10 hours) and when we weren't able to see each other for a couple days he would want to call and would want to talk for hours because he missed me even if I was busy or expressed that I didn't want to be on the phone as it is a very mentally draining task for me.

After 1-2 months of long distance, these problems got worse. Every time I saw him he would complain about not having enough time to do stuff with me and would often stay most of the weekend even if I would politely ask to have some time to do homework or just be by myself. He would say that he could help with my chores, homework or mental health time and didn't seem to understand my desire to do things independently. He kept saying that I wasn't letting him into my life enough and said that he hated the distance between us and wished he didn't have to drive so far. There were other issues that also kept piling on and eventually after much back and forth we broke up him citing that "he wasn't good for me" and things weren't working out.

During the month after our breakup I felt many things both guilty and sad but also a bit relieved as the fighting in our relationship had caused a lot of built up stress and anxiety that had pushed me to a very low place. In this time we had called a few times to discuss things and some calls went okay but others took turns and would leave me feeling hurt and confused. We had a meetup to talk in person about getting back together and I said for the time being I think we're better off as friends. He is someone I care a lot about and I do think that he has some dark shit to deal with and probably needs to seek counseling. I feel as if I have been very forgiving and kind but also acknowledge that I likely have some fault in the demise of our relationship as there are things I need to work on such as boundary setting and people pleasing.

Since this conversation many things have happened that complicate matters and I honestly feel a bit lost. There are times it feels like we could have a new beginning and others where all the old issues come screaming back into my face. I've said I don't want to be in a relationship with him right now and need time to work through things and he wants to keep up the physical part of our relationship as he sees that as something that didn't need fixing.

Recently we met up and I had set plans with my friends before and after we saw each other. He showed up mad that I had set plans with other people on the day that we had time together since it made things feel rushed and he wanted to actually be able to spend time with me. This ended up blowing up into an argument and he told me to "grow the hell up" and also said that I "needed to learn how to be in a real relationship". These things were incredibly triggering to me as I am both younger than him and this is also the first relationship and everything that I have ever been in. He told me that he didn't appreciate the fact that I never wanted to make time for him and said that this was true during our relationship as well. He said that if I couldn't do it he had other friends that cared about him enough and that he shouldn't have even come to see me since it was clear that I didn't give a shit.

Now I feel so lost since I have even after our relationship never flaked on him and have been overly honest about my insecurities and everything even outside of the relationship. He is someone I still really care about but every time something like this happens I feel that he is not good for me even if he does really care about me in all the ways he says. It hurts so bad even because amongst all these things we still have really nice times together where we can just be around each other and enjoy each others company. I know that I cannot separate these experiences as they happen with the same man and all my friends tell me this is manipulative behavior but I also worry that I'm overreacting.

So AITA? (sorry for the long post)

What are these acronyms?

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

This is a personal post about boarding school experience and its later effects in life. It will be under keep reading so anyone can scroll over it if they don't want to read it. It's mostly for me and the need to express the thoughts I've been having and I need an outlet for that.

I've been reading once again about boarding school syndrome all day since this morning. I don't know why I do this to myself. Why I feel the need to go back to all that as if to check if all the damage is still there. Or like a way to pity myself and then to hate it for feeling sorry for myself once again. It's a cycle. I must have remembered something last night before falling asleep because I found myself today at 10 am reading a research paper on it and then looking up testimonials in reddit.

But the thing is, most of the research is done on English boarding schools and as much as the overall experience is similar, there are so many nuances in the differences that exist.

I vividly remember looking out the window and watching my parents get in the car and leave. It was Sunday evening and they had the car parked on a smaller street in downtown where I was left to stay. The next day was the first day of school and I was 11, starting 5th grade.

I read that in cases of children going to boarding school, a lot of them remember in detail the moment the separation took place. And it's true even if it's been almost 20 years since then. That's when my stomach issues began. Of course the cause was emotional stress, but that didn't stop from going to medical clinics weekly to do full check ups when any adult should have realized that I was just homesick. The year after, I began to feel nausea each Monday morning. I used to beg my parents to postpone my return as much as possible so I would only leave home on Monday and arrive an hour before classes would start. For five years I went to school in the afternoon. The nausea became a constant. I would complain on that day, hoping my mother would tell me that I don't have to go to school. But I couldn't understand at that time that my mother was emotionally unavailable and had no idea how to deal with her daughter's real needs.

But I kept going and as years went by, I got used to it and it felt easier by the time I finished high school. When I was already in college, I had forgotten half of my experience and I would gloss over what happened. I would act proud of how fast I had become independent, without needing any help, as if that was a good thing.

Of course that at some point I slowly started to realize that not everything went that well, but either way, that perhaps it was worth the sacrifice if I manage to do something well professionally. Eight years of boarding school meant sacrifices and financial investment. For me to go to the most prestigious middle school (I had to take an English exam for 5th grade, that was unheard of at that time in any other school!), then to the most prestigious high school to receive the best grades which would help to get into the most prestigious university so I can study exactly what I want because by then I found my passion. And I was encouraged. So I worked for it for more than a decade because all the pain had to have been worth it. Yes, parts of life sucks, but perhaps a uni position while I teach and research would compensate for it. But it never did and that entire plan fell to pieces because life doesn't work how I wanted to.

So was all that worth it in the end? Absolutely not.

For years I would think and say that I never suffered bullying in school because my colleagues were nice and for the most part, I had nice experiences. And that's still true. While at the same time forgetting that I also had that other life in boarding school where 17-18 year girls found abuse a form of entertainment.

Bullying is such a common occurence but it gets worse in boarding school because you can't get to any space that feels safe. You can't get home to your own room and to your own parents who might notice something and intervene. In boarding school you have to sleep in the same room and next to the same bed as your abusers. You take showers next to them, hoping that nothing happens. It's living in constant fear.

All my emotional mechanisms have developed during those years, especially between the ages of 11-13. I quickly learned to avoid any type of conflict because that would mess up whatever aparent peace that existed from time to time. I learned that speaking up and telling the adults responsible meant that I was in more danger.

As adults, those who went through the boarding school experience have trouble maintaining relationships. We become self sufficient because we had to. There was no help so we learned to take care of ourselves. Consequently, we don't need other people, especially if we know they will eventually abandon us. Of course attempts are made because it's in our nature. I've lost friendships because rather than making myself heard and to be an active participant in a relationship, I distanced myself. It's easier than to speak because there's a risk that the other person would certainly decide to break the friendship. Avoid conflict at all costs, even it rots everything from the inside. I'm still actively doing this.

When I told my therapist about these experiences (which I don't think I'll talk about in detail here), she used the word trauma. To this day, I have a hard time accepting it. Because deep down I still don't believe that my experience was that bad to be labeled that way. It's not real trauma if nothing really actually "bad" happens.

It's only bad enough that it infiltrated and influenced all aspects of my entire life. From personal relationships to professional. The latter I used to think it was independent and untouchable of all the things I had going on personally. But of course to realize as an adult that the need for perfection, the impostor syndrome, all are a result of never feeling good enough which stems from the initial abandonment.

I find it hard to accept that some decisions taken 20 years ago without me having any real say in it (I was asked and I said yes because my parents know best) and the consequent experiences that I had to go through have negatively influenced my entire life. For many years I never looked at aspects of my life, thinking that something is not well and should be investigated. I was busy in my 20s with other thoughts without realizing the root cause of why I was doing some things. But by the time that decade was over, it's like everything is crashing down. Piece by piece. Every single aspect of my life had been fucked by that thing my therapist calls trauma.

[sugar-omi]

cove and his pregnant wife!mc where she’s having lots morning sickness and sometimes can’t make it to the bathroom in time and she’s just all upset cause she feels so insecure

and cove just sits there and holds her hair every morning, rubbing her back and cleaning up some of her messes while she just apologizes

and he assures her he doesn’t mind, how she’s stronger than he’ll ever be because he would never be able to carry a baby and still care for everyone in her life and do all the things she does

just some fluff and comfort for a super insecure reader :,))

i enjoyed this idea sm more than i thought so mayhaps i.... got carried away,,,

pls cove w pregnant mc and just dad!cove in general is so GOOD i love him sm, he'd be such an angel w preg!mc let alone as a dad. man i wish we could get a dlc like that id actually scream n i'd never play anything else 👐👐👐

tags : comfort, pregnant fem/afab reader, reader has at least shoulder length hair, 1st trimester, morning sickness (vomiting), insecurities, drabble + hc's

synopsis : your pregnancy is running you through the ringer, cove is here to help you feel better

even when you find out you're pregnant, you're still taking care of so much

you do your usual chores and work / school on top of that

you still do things for cove that he insists he should be doing for you instead

like cove insists on doing all the cooking, or at least the majority so you have a break and can take care of yourself as you and your body goes through this adjustment

or the cleaning- don't even worry about putting the clothes in the washer, he'll do it before he leaves!

of course you tell cove you're pregnant, not incapable and he understands and lessens up but still hangs around in case you need something and does things that makes your day easier

however when you start experiencing bad morning sickness, cove insists on taking over more of the things you do since you're always so drained after spending the night throwing up

the first time it happens its in the middle of the night, around 4am and he wakes up because you're struggling in his arms...

cove grumbles, face pinched as he blinks through blurry vision. "wha..."

you grunt and huff, shoving cove on his back and that makes his eyes go wide as he lays there with his arms open and hanging in the air, as you run to the bathroom.

his shock doesn't last long though when he hears you heaving and he trips on the covers trying to get to you.

cove blinks through blurry vision, not even thinking about his glasses but subconsciously thankful he can at least make it to the bathroom without turning the room upside down.

you're leaned over the toilet bowl, trying to keep your hair out of your face but between throwing up your dinner and wiping your spit away in between waves its a bit hard, especially since you just woke up.

cove sits beside you, gathering your hair in his hands as he leans over you for a hair tie,

and he brushes your bangs off your sweaty forehead.

the ponytail leaves a lot to be desired, but that's something for another day

he starts rubbing your back, massaging your shoulders and placing loving kisses between your shoulder blades while you pant over the bowl, spitting.

it's quiet for a minute, a lucky break before another wave of nausea hits.

you spit and clear your throat before you mumble weakly. "sorry..."

you leave it at that, thoroughly embarrassed and stressed that you pushed cove so roughly earlier and now you're sick like this in front of him.

it doesn't make much sense, you've known each other for more than 15 years so you've seen each other in basically every state possible, especially since you've been married and dating for a good few of those.

cove smiles at you, trying to soothe you visually as well. "its okay, don't apologize about anything."

the next time you throw up, you're taking a nap on the couch and when you wake up you feel very queasy..

before you can do anything more than sit up from the couch, you end up throwing up on the floor.

you clutch your shirt, feeling a bit weak after such a long nap and a rude awakening but you push yourself up from the couch and drag yourself to the kitchen for some paper towels.

it's a bit hard, you're still nauseous and a headache is coming on but you snatch the roll off the counter and make your way back, trying to wipe it up quickly before cove gets back from work. thankfully, it didn't get on the rug, so it shouldn't be a hard clean.

but of course, another wave of nausea comes over you, finally making it to the bathroom this time.

when cove finally comes home and hears you in the bathroom, he puts down the food and flowers he brought home for you and finishes cleaning up for you.

you come out, having brushed your teeth twice before you deemed it good enough to finish the day with for now.

cove smiles at you, having just finished up wiping the floor with a wet rag.

you welcome cove home with a kiss on the cheek, but go on to fret. "you didn't have to clean it up i-" you start choking up a bit. "I could've finished it..."

cove takes you in his arms, seeing that you're starting to get teary eyed. "its okay, I wanna do it for you."

you wrap your arms around him and let his body heat comfort you and his solid arms wrapped so nicely around you helps ground you and calm you down.

"so uh.." cove rubs his arm. "I brought food, I don't know if you want any now but I have flowers too!"

he picks them up from the coffee table and presents them with a sheepish grin, looking for approval.

you smile and take the bouquet.

when cove wakes up in the middle of the night, he finds you crying in the kitchen.

even if you were crying quietly, when he flipped over in bed and realized you weren't there, he immediately got up to find you.

"y/n!"

you startle, surprised to see your husband up.

you start wiping at your tears, although it's fruitless since he's already seen you.

cove puts his hands on your shoulders. "what's wrong? are you okay?"

you nod, affirming that you're physically okay. or well, at least as okay as you can be with all this morning sickness. (why call it morning sickness if you're going to wake up from sleep at 4am and can't even take am afternoon nap without an unpleasant surprise!)

you sniffle, covering your face from cove and turning your body the other way.

you cant face him, you're so overwhelmed..

"y-yeah I just.." you huff, tears of flusteration coming over you again. "I'm so tired of being sick! I can't even sleep without throwing up, and I definitely can't trust myself not to throw up in public!"

you're getting really worked up now, and your hands are waving in the air as you animate your frustration. "I'm just so tired of being pregnant, I hate this.." you sigh, dragging your hands down your face, and you let yourself sick to the ground.

"im excited for the baby, but I'm so over it already..." you curl in on yourself. you feel guilty, as much as you love the new addition to your family already and are looking forward to the new stage of your life, you hate how sick you've been and you hate how cove has to take care of you and clean up after you.

it makes you uncomfortable even though there's love in his actions and you feel it, but it's hard when it feels like there's no end to this..

cove sinks to the floor beside you, pulling you into his lap, and you hide your face in his t-shirt, holding tightly onto his hand.

you sit in silence for a moment as cove thinks about a way to comfort you. he's not good with words, but clearly, that's something you need right now, and even so, he wants you to know just how much he loves you.

"I think you're really brave, and strong y/n..." cove starts carding his fingers through your messy hair.

"I could never carry a baby, and I'm not just saying that." cove laughs light heartedly, "even if I could I'd be way too scared.. but you're doing a really amazing thing, and I wish I could make you feel better."

cove is starting to fret a bit himself, he really wishes he could take everything for himself and make you feel better.

"you've always taken care of me, putting up with me crying all the time, letting me vent about my parents and all the things I struggle with.. you always wait for me, like when we shared a bed for the first time." you both laugh a bit at how much of a fail that was at first.

"and even now, even though you're carrying our baby, you take care of me in any little or big way as you always have." he urges you out of hiding, wiping away a couple of stray tears coming down. "its amazing. you're amazing. i know it's tough, and I wish I could do something more about it..."

cove starts to cry, so it's your turn to laugh and wipe away his tears. he takes your hand on his cheek and leans into your touch. "its my turn to take care of you. okay?"

you nod, still sniffling but this time it's because you're so moved by cove's determination to explain how much he loves and appreciates you.

"cool. now, what do you think about ice cream in bed?"

[celestialtarot11]

Collab! Who were you in a past life? 👀🙈

Hi friends! Both me and @mercurialstime have decided to do an awesome collab on past lives! We ended up channeling such unique, and specific messages for each pile. So if you feel drawn to more than 1, that’s understandable! This time we’ll have 6 piles to choose from, spirit/universe was spitting facts in this one. Its pretty chunky, so feel free to grab a drink or a snack! Feel free to like, comment, reblog and support our blogs <3 @mercurialstime was amazing to collab with and we had some funny moments!

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Pick an Image:

Pile 1: 🎥👻 Channeled by the lovely @mercurialstime ! I'm sensing that some of you guys were in a position where you have to deal with a lot of people, but not in a sense where people came to you for a clear objectives like business people would do, instead people would just interacted with you with so much vagueness. Their message were implicitly said, their behavior were a thoughtful code, it was a politics themed community. However, I feel that even though there were so much politics elements here, I don't feel a lot power struggle happening. Maybe you were born of a nobility, a duke or duchess, marquis or marquess, baron or baroness, but it's leaning more to the female counterpart. You subconsciously accepted the fate that you won't get to be the heiress and focused on socializing more, and you're even excited for that. I feel a lot of naivety here, your servant might talked about you a lot, your teacher might criticized you, but you were not noticing any of that. Some other womans of nobility were testing you, but your naivety failed you to read the situation, and so you were quickly left by them, making you an outcast, and again, you didn't even seems to realize that you were an outcast. I see 2 woman were sticking together with you because they were an outcast too, for different reason though, probably due to lower rank or the shortfall of their family. Maybe your family had higher rank than theirs, or maybe your family had a special irreplaceable role or reputation. The thing is that they bear with you so much despite the inner turmoils they feel due to your mindless words or actions. If you feel that in this life you keep having a countless lessons about communication and emphaty, sometimes ironically due to other's words and actions which hurt you, this is your confirmation.

Pile 2: 💭🤍 Hi there pile 2’s! Channeled by the one and only, @celestialtarot11 Enjoy :) It feels like you guys were the first child of the family you were born into! Very happy and precious time. I do believe your parents could’ve been spiritual, they could’ve been Christian. You could’ve been baptized as well in your past life. Maybe in this lifetime you study different religions and cultures, the organization of them. You study them in a philosophical way. But back to your past, your other world, I see that there was an incident that changed your life significantly. It caused to to relocate or move away from family. This could’ve been a divorce, separation with the parents. For some of you, you found a wife or someone to settle down with and it lead to many marriage issues. This person played a big role in your life, and could’ve been the one that got away. I did hear in this lifetime you’ve dealt with people like this past person, even though they were literally on your past life. It seems like lessons like this come up, abandonment or fear of rejection. You could’ve been a medium in a past life and offered spiritual readings as a way to cope with stress. I think you would’ve taken inspiration from your parents to do this, they seemed religious and you found a way to connect with others differently. It seems like your ability to communicate with spirit carried on in this lifetime too, so a lot of you could be clairvoyant/clairaudient! Alright Pile 2’s thats all I have, what an interesting lifetime :) thank you for all the support, feel free to like, reblog, and support both blogs!

Additional song channeled by @mercurialstime

Summer after highschool when we first met~

Pile 3: 💼🧉 Channeled by the lovely @mercurialstime ! Hard worker is what you were. You were so hard working in anything that you do, I'm seeing a small business, and even a farmer, a tailor, or is it that you're a farmer/tailor that sells your own harvests? Whatever it is, you do it so hard that there was barely time to rest. All that cause you need to provide for your family, I'm leaning more towards siblings here. You might had a lot of siblings in the past. I'm not seeing any parental figure, maybe they left, maybe they're dead. You were left to take care of your siblings, you were their only hopes. All the works you did, you did it with your siblings in mind, you really loved and cared for them. However, with all the farms/boutiques available back then, the business became the red ocean one. You couldn't sell your harvest/clothes with a proper price, sometimes they remained unsold even after few days/month. There were a deep grieve inside your heart, but even so, you still worked yourself off, telling yourself that you have no time for the grieve. The thing is that I got a sight of how you died. There was just that one time you were so out of focus due to all the tiredness and you accidentally hurt yourself while working. And all I'm seeing is that you finish your work before anything else. I'm not seeing any cure attempt made on your wound. Maybe there weren't any cure for it yet that time or maybe you just treat your wound by yourself, but whatever it is, I saw a black wounds. It could be a necrosis, that explains the thing about no cure for it yet. If in this life you happen to be born in a well off family or a family that puts little to none expectation that burden you, and yet you're still putting so much expectations for yourself, this might be a confirmation for you. Please do acknowledge that being born into your current family is probably a lesson for you to enjoy things and to bring balance into your life.

Pile 4: ☕️🫖 Channeled by the lovely @celestialtarot11 Yes thats me lol 🙈 I get the vibe that you guys were the middle child or the last child in the family! You could’ve been born in a huge family in a past life, and was raised in India, Pakistan or in Nepal. There’s such a cultural difference here and I love it. You could’ve had a bright outlook of the world at a young age, a curiosity. It never left you, I think even in this lifetime you carry it. I think there could’ve been a prominent father figure who loved to have fun with you in a past life, and was there to support you. He taught you how to make diya (if you’re not sure what this means, please search up diya in Indian culture) it seems like there is so much love and guidance here. He could be a spirit guide for you too in this lifetime, if you know of any masculine spirit guides! This father shaped your outlook of life, even though you were raised in poverty. It seems like although your family struggled financially, you set up a little market and began a business to help them. And you made bank 👀 you made your way to the top, and gained recognition. The canary spirit is an important spirit animal for you in this lifetime, so if have birds that aren’t a canary, they are important too! Im hearing you made a name for yourself in a past life and people really looked up to you. Im hearing you had an injury in a past life, like a broken leg, and it caused a detriment in your life. Its quite random, but maybe it might mean something to ya’ll reading this. Your mother could’ve been absent in childhood unfortunately. Alright pile 4’s, thats all i have for you 💗☺️ please feel free to comment, like, reblog and support our blogs!

Pile 5: ⛔️Channeled by @mercurialstime !

⚠️ Trigger warning ⚠️ mention of blood

I'm seeing blood trails with every steps that you took, it feels sticky. You might be a mercenary, also you might be a hunter. I'm seeing a wide grin. Perhaps that was your expression when you received a big offer or when you found a rare species when hunting. Maybe because what you did wasn't supported by the universe that you didn't really feel blessed. You might encountered a lot of problems. Yes, you did get a lot of money, but it's like those money came and went again due to those problems. I can see some of you got scammed and even got into debts here and there. You actually had a person who cared about you and warned you to stop doing such things. I feel like you also cared about them so that you always just walked away and ignored them, not wanting to hurt them if you argue back. There was some occasions where you snapped at them due to frustration. I think that growing up in poverty was what made you discard the idea of the divine and morality. I can see you scoff internaly at those ideas. Now, I don't kow how this message ends up to me, but you now might happen to be born as a minority in your region or it's what you belief that is a minority. I also see that some of you love animals so much that it really hurts you when seeing other people hurt them. If so, you can take this as a confirmation. I'm seeing that you are called to learn so hard on 9th house and a little 12th house things, to have a belief; to trust and defend your belief without taking down others' belief; but mainly it's about having some faith for the divine planning.

💭 Additional message: 💭

When I channeled to your reading, my battery was low, so I charged it for a while. Just when the battery is enough to continue, I fell asleep. When I woke up and about to continue channeling, the wifi was so troubled that I wait for a while before continuing. Not to mention the amount of typos I made was so amazing. It was first meant to be the message where "Maybe because what you did wasn't supported by the universe that you didn't really feel blessed. You might encountered a lot of problems. Yes, you did get a lot of money, but it's like those money came and went again due to those problems." When I finished the channeling and about to save the draft, the wifi went down again and the draft was lost even when I have refreshed so many time. Therefore, I really need to warn you if this pattern happens to be recurring in your life, maybe not about money, but relationship or career or anything, it is not necessarily because you did something wrongly, but it might be just not what the universe have in store for you. Please stay tune to your intuition and don't ignore the signs. Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something. You might think that it's your only resort, but maybe you can try to have some faith. You know that wearing an underwear that doesn't fit your size would only bring you another problem to solve right?

Pile 6: Hi there pile 6’s! Enjoy your reading below, this one was a little silly 👀In a past life you could’ve been raised financially abundant and carried this legacy as you grew older. You could’ve participated in your families businesses I’m hearing. In Italy Verona is where you could’ve resided. Maybe you want to visit Europe one day in this lifetime. You helped your parents with the vineyard and the production of wine, so ya’ll were busy getting high 👀? Lmao just joking, you we’re dedicated and young, and your parents needed help managing the farm land. So you did a variety of work. You grew up surrounded by nature and wildlife. I do see that eventually managing this took a toll on you, since you had other passions and wanted to leave. You wanted to see the rest of the world, yet felt restricted to the home you grew up in. Your mother could’ve absolutely supported you, but the father did not. Since he wanted you to carry his legacy. He did very well in turning grapes into wine, I must say. Also Pile 6 you met an amazing person, whether this is a woman or guy. But I did hear Rosalina. Maybe this was her name in your past life. And maybe you currently know someone as Rose, Leah, or Lina. Or rosa. If not, that’s fine. You will meet them. This doesn’t only need to be a female. I see you did everything to escape this kind of life since you dedicated yourself to this person. You cared a lot, and met behind closed doors lol. Spirit is so cheeky. Anyway, you get the vibe. You two shared values, and wanted to leave hometown. It was almost like faith put you together to develop a plan to leave. And you did! Four of wands came out. You were able to have a happy life together ☺️ this is the sweetest thing. As for the dad…well we don’t know how he felt about that one. Mother could’ve been very happy to hear about your marriage. Im seeing letters she received from you about marriage, and she would cry and wipe with a tissue (you know how they did in the old days) anyway my pile 6’s! This is what I have for you. Please feel free to like, comment, reblog and support our blogs :) this one was an interesting one! Channeled by @celestialtarot11

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Thank you to everyone who supported and clicked on this collab! This was such a unique experience for us two @mercurialstime and I enjoyed it. We had no idea how this would work but we figured it out. Hope ya’ll have an amazing day/night! 👻🤍

Book a reading with me here 🤍

[seldomscilence16]

Whumpober day 1:

Race Against the Clock

Search Party | Panic Attack

Fandom: Ducktales/Duck Universe

…

Trembling limbs against his chest, a grip on his shirt from a tight little fist, teary quiet gasps. He does his best to rock back and forth at a steady pace, a buzzing numbness having filled his limbs long ago making it difficult to tell which way he leans. His mind screams at him to do something, anything, but he knows he’s tried everything in the book and then some, and he curses his luck now more than ever, for putting someone he loves in such danger.

His hold tightens at the thought, pulling the duckling just that much closer, his unsteady heartbeat likely doing nothing to help the boy. He runs his fingers through matted head feathers, gently adjusted each one, brushing away dirt and muck. The little head leans into his touch, stuttered breathing more apparent, he takes a long slow breath, holds it, and releases. For several breaths he waits, soothing the child in his arms as best as he can in such a hopeless situation.

“Unca’ Donald… are we gonna die here?” The weak rasp breaks his heart all over again, the breathless quality, the wet undertone that speaks of tears and panic.

“They won’t let that happen.”

Donald doesn’t know if it's a lie, but it's bitter on his tongue. At the very least, they would come for the boy in his arms.

Please.

…

“Mr. McDuck, if they are in there…”

“Spit it out.”

“Their air supply would have been limited to begin with, depending on how long they’ve been in there… if they’re still alive, they have very limited time.”

“Then I suggest everyone goes faster.” The old duck grinds the words out, trying to keep a lid on his temper as he grips his cane hard enough to cause the wood to creak, hard enough to make his joints ache.

“This is miles worth of underground tunnels, with traps and aging structure alike, anything could go wrong-”

“Then keep Gladstone around! I don’t care what you have to do! Just find my boys!”

“..Yes sir..”

“Uncle Scrooge, are you okay?”

He turns to the young voice, his temper washing away like an avalanche of snow on a candle. Three pairs of eyes stare up at him, tired rings underneath and so scared, but asking him if he was alright….

“Everything’s fine kids. Just, a lot of ground to cover.” He forces a reassuring smile onto his beak, ignores the shake to his hands and the waver in his step, anything to give these kids hope, but this is usually someone else's role, someone far better at it then Scrooge.

“You… really think they’re in there?” Webby is staring at- what once was- the entrance, now crumbled and blocked by the landslide the storm caused earlier.

The entrance to an underground maze, with rumored treasure in its center, old and hidden and discovered by their youngest when reading a book gifted to him. A book from somewhere Scrooge could still not identify. The youngest had gone off on his own, and Donald had found out first, a scribbled note left in their wake that had taken Scrooge too long to figure out. Now, now they’d been in there who knows how long, in who knows what condition, and apparently now on a time limit.

“Yes, and we’re going to find them.”

“Hello, we’ve come to assist!” The voice comes from above, the sound of jets reaching their ears belatedly.

Boyd and GizmoDuck descend from the sky, landing not far from the family, just above them, floating down with an open umbrella is José Carioca, and above him Panchito Pistoles with a parachute. Unexpected and unplanned for, Scrooge stares with a raised brow, feeling a headache begin to pound in his temples, this situation did not need anymore stress.

“How in the blazes did you even know about all of this?”

“We keep track of Donaldo’s wellbeing.” José drawls.

“And Dewey texted us.” Panchito’s grin is sharp.

“Webby texted us.” Lena and Violet pop into existence, several gasps and ‘holy feathers’ released from the group.

“Huey.” GizmoDuck says sheepishly.

“I’ve found several tunnels!” Boyd cuts in, eyes glowing as he scans the ground.

“Let's get started then.”

…

Fingertips bloody, hands sore and injured, Donald continues to dig at the rubble. Louie sleeps fitfully behind him, curled into a tight ball with the cape from donalds shirt as a pillow. His lungs take trembling breaths, he can’t tell if the unfulfilling feeling is coming from the lack of air in the room, or his own panic at the fact. If he doesn’t do something, his little boy will die, he will never see his family or friends again, he will never create the life he wanted, he will die here. Young, on an adventure he never asked for, terrified and injured and cold and running out of air, Donald couldn’t let that happen.

His breath hitches, inhaling more dust and dirt than air, as a larger bit of rubble dislodges. He moves it out of the way with a grunt, the barest bit of vigor returning at the thought of progress. As he turns back to continue digging, a rumble shakes the space, he lurches backwards, shielding Louie from falling dust and rocks as he waits it out. When the dust settles, he glances sideways to find a new layer of rubble atop the small dent he had made, the pile reaching farther in. The tight feeling in his chest increases, and he’s sure tears would come if he wasn’t so dried out. Huddled over the still sleeping Louie, Donald cries silent dry sobs, until there's not enough breath to do so, until his arms have simply locked, and his vision blurs, and the shaking begins again, and he can do nothing but shield a dying child.

He whispers a silent apology. To Louie. To Huey and Dewey. To Webby. To Della, wherever she is. To Scrooge. To everyone who loved the bright boy beneath him, and to all those he failed.

Darkness edges at the corners of his vision, a trembling spot of green all he can see through the dust, a light shines off to the side, but he can’t bear to look away. He can’t leave him.

Noise echoes around him as a warped unidentifiable mess, perhaps people in the after life after his head. Movement, the place is probably about to come down, he forces his limbs to hold, with every last bit of strength he has. Something touches his shoulder, something warm that breaks through the numbness ever so slightly, the walls had been cold… he doesn’t understand-

“Donaldo, breathe, please.”

“Zé?” He croaks, terror filling him at the thought his friend was on the other side.

“You’re safe. It's okay, we got you both.”

Oh…

And Donald allows the darkness to take him.

[genopaint]

AND THERE YOU HAVE IT!! That's the end of the Daily Dragon Challenge! A dragon drawn for each day of the year within the Year of the Dragon! All 366 days cause of course it was a leap year.

If you want to see them all in order you can find them both on the twitter thread or in the tag on my art tumblr!

I can't believe it's actually finished. When I set out to do this at the start of the year, I figured I'd probably drop it really early in. But somehow I ended up managing to stick with it even throughout all the stupid stuff that happened this year. We got to the end!

What a trip! The whole process absolutely had its ups and downs, I won't even pretend like it didn't. Some days were tougher than others, and when I had to catch up by drawing like, a weeks worth of dragons in one go that was a bit stressful. But I think I managed to do a lot of cool dragons during all this, make some nice art, and even got to try some stuff I wouldn't normally do like clay and chalk!

Today was not good and I was almost worried I wouldn't finish the final dragon. But thankfully I pulled it off. Thank you all SO much for indulging me during this, and for looking at all these dragons, and all your support during 2024. I couldn't have done it without you all, or at the very least it would've felt way less rewarding.

Immediately you're probably asking, what's next? And I'm going to tell you what's next: NOTHING! I'M DONE!! This was a lot of work and a lot of stress, and I don't wanna continue doing it. 366 unique dragons was TOUGH. So it's finished, from this day on, I'll only draw a dragon when I feel like it. But don't worry, there will be plenty more dragons for me to draw in the future.

I know I want to make a mural with all the daily dragons in it, but that's proving to be a longer process than I initially realized. So I'm gonna take my time so it looks nice, okay? And outside of that when I get the time I'd like to put all of the dragons into a little pdf or something with all their concept art and explaining more about what each one is and why I made it or chose to draw it. So keep an eye out for that!

I mentioned it before but 2024 was a remarkably bad year. And I'm eager to see it go. This challenge certainly added some stability and something to do during all this mess of a year. And even though I'm feeling a little bleh now that this crummy year is over, I guess I am pretty proud of how it all turned out! I'll give you all some opinions on which were my favorite later, because it's 366 to sift through. But from the final 8 dragon gods, Behemoth was absolutely the best looking imo.

Thank you all again SO SO SO MUCH for your continued support of everything I do. It really means the world to me that anyone finds my art interesting at all let alone all my silly little dragons. I really don't take for granted the fact that people like what I post, and I hope you all enjoyed watching this challenge unfold as much as I enjoyed working on it... for the most part... From voting on the most popular dragon, to just liking each random design you enjoyed, I really appreciate all of the support and love I got this year. I plan on drawing way more dragons in the future, from stuff that got put on the chopping block to new dragons I never even considered. Let's make 2025 a better year with many more wonderful dragons to come!

Thank you all again, Bahamutgreen!