#mama's writings

[the-raindeer-king]

Imagine Simon's mom doesn't die with Tommy and Beth. Maybe she was out of town, or at a friend's house, and Roba's men were sloppy and missed her. Anyway, so it's just Simon and her now, and because he blames himself for what happened, he's pulled away from her.

He pays her rent, even if he wanted her to live in a nicer apartment complex. And he visits during her birthday and Mother's Day, and sometimes just randomly stops by. But he never stays very long, and he doesn't tell her a lot about his new life. It's a very one sided relationship, but she tries to make the best of it.

And then you move in next door, during one of Simon's deployments. You feel bad for the sweet lady that lives next to you. She never seems to have much company, and you take it upon yourself to befriend her, spending more time in her apartment than your own.

You learn about her ex husband, her sons, the tragedy, and most importantly, you learn about Simon. And you hate him. Mrs. Riley (she insists you call her Sarah) is such a lovely woman, and it's clear how much she cares about her living son, how hard she's trying to keep their relationship alive.

It's the second Mother's Day after you move in when you finally meet Simon. Your relationship with your own mother is complicated, so you've opted to spend the day with Mrs. Riley. You'd gotten her a small present, and had planned to spend the day drinking wine and watching historical romance movies.

You're thoroughly shocked when you knock on her door, and a man answers. Six feet, built like a brick house, but under his scowl, you recognize Sarah's eyes.

“You must be Simon.”

His scowl deepens, but before he can say anything, Mama Riley is pushing past him, pulling you into her apartment to fuss over you.

She apologizes for not telling you sooner, but your plans will have to be rescheduled. Simon's back early, and she can't waste a precious second.

You're understanding. You've listened to her worried rants, given her space to cry over how things have turned out. You know she loves spending time with her son, even if the visits are short and he doesn't talk much.

Simon doesn't miss the way you glare at him. There's a fury in your eyes, even as you cheerily wish his mother a happy mother's day. For a moment, he wonders if you're a spy. But that thought is quickly diminished, when you verbally eviscerate him at the door.

You're quiet, not wanting to upset his mom, but your anger is clear. It may not be your business, but Mama Riley is your friend, and you adore the older woman. And you cannot stand by while he treats her like this. She loves her son so much, and he needs to step up and try harder.

As you're chewing him out, Simon's already head over heels, planning your wedding as the seconds tick by.

(A/N: You can read this as a stand alone piece, but I did write 3 more drabbles (four in total!) for this! They're all on my blog under the tag mama riley au. Thank you for reading!)

[tangledinink]

welcome back to our program! and welcome to arc two.

✩ the gemini ✩ [ start ] [ prev ] [ next ]

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Big Mama's Dialogue

I've heard a few people lament on how Big Mama is difficult to write because of how she speaks, so I thought I'd share my tips and tricks.

I start out by writing what I intend for her to say without the flowery language added on. For example:

"I look nice in the new jacket I bought."

Doesn't sound like Big Mama at all, but it'll help you have a place to start so you don't have to be intimidated by scrolling through thesaurus.

Now, Big M has a tendency to do the following:

Use outdated American slang (anywhere from the 1920's to the 60's)

Apply alliterations (using the same letter at the beginning of a word to the adjacent/close word)

Use adverbs, so describing words with the end suffix -ly (i.e. softly, mysteriously, quickly)

Sprinkle in a few made-up words

So let's take the base sentence I provided an shape it to Big M's standards.

Resources for American slang:

Instead of word vomiting out all the outdated American slang I know, I'm going to link some resources/websites you all can look at and come back to. She mostly uses 20's slang, so the links are centered around that.

1920's slang PDF, alphabetically organized!!!

List of slang phrases originating from the 1920's to the 2010's

Short list of slang flapper's from the 1920's used

So let's edit our base sentence a little, now it's:

"This new jacket I bought is the cat's meow."

Adding the next layer:

I did mention that Big Mama tended to use both alliterations and adverbs in copious amounts, but don't feel pressured to use both at once in a sentence. If it fits, it fits. If it doesn't, some trimming might be useful. This is why having a base sentence is important, so the intention behind the dialogue isn't lost under all the additions you're adding. So with that in mind, I'm going to alter our example:

"This new jazzy jacket I just bought is the cat's meow."

The last part:

I save the "fake words" part for last, because beginning with them can make your sentences clunky or not make sense. This part really relies on your personal touch or the context and tone of the situation at hand. The example I gave make Big Mama sound like she's preening about her looks, so I'm going to lean into that.

"This newsie-woozie jazzy jackety I just bought is the cat's meow! Grr!"

And for comparison, here's where we started.

"I look nice in the new jacket I bought."

And well, that's it!!! Hope it was helpful to those that needed it!!!

[bluerosefox]

Little Danny's Big Adventure

New idea.

Okay now hear me out.

-Pulls out AU idea cauldron and tosses stuff into it-

Let's put in some Ghost King/Prince Danny.... But also some deaged to toddlerhood Danny that gets yeeted into the DCverse!

Like imagine, tiny baby Danny with his tiny crown of ice floating above his head and his galaxy cape wrapped around him and uses it like a baby blanket. He didn't mean to fall into a different universe, a natural portal opened up and he was being a curious little thing! He didn't mean to trip and fall in during his nap time.

Nor was he expecting to fall into this realm during a rogue attack and knock out said rogue cause they were being a meanie and harming people and now Danny just wants his nap time cause he spent a lot of his tiny engery and he wants to find a nice spot.

Danny finds a place to crash, snuggling himself into his cape and the astronaut bear Danielle got him during her last visit that he takes everywhere since.

He's out like a light as the door to this safe house that belongs to one of the Bats opens up.

Meanwhile. In the Infinite Realms, Queen Regent Jazz is going into Mama Bear Jazz Mode trying to find her deaged brother, keeping the Realms in check, and is resisting the urge to put CW in time out Soup Time because he's being cyptided again about Danny whereabouts!!! UGH!

[steddieas-shegoes]

Mama Munson made Eddie’s Halloween costumes from scratch every year. She said it was because it looked cooler, but as he got older, he realized it was because she used scraps and cheap fabrics to make them and that’s all they could afford.

But his costumes were always great. Every year was better than the last.

When he got too old for trick or treating, she used Halloween night to teach him how to sew.

“For that jacket you wanna wear so bad, baby.”

It took a lot of effort, and a little bit of help for the thicker patches, but he managed to finish it in a few weeks.

That year for Christmas, he made her and Wayne battle jackets with their favorite bands and singers.

It became the thing he gave to important people.

Shortly after Vecna, when he was stuck in bed for nearly a month healing, he had his mom run to the store in Indy and start grabbing patches. Wayne found denim jackets from the donation store, surprised anything was left at all with how much people needed right now.

Eddie made all the kids jackets, even Max, who would probably think it was stupid in the same way she thought Lucas holding her hand was stupid (not at all).

He made Robin one, with a hidden rainbow flag patch on the inside pocket.

Nancy got one, even Argyle and Jonathan got one.

Steve didn’t.

Eddie didn’t know how to make it a friendly gesture, how to not make it look like he was screaming from the rooftops that he’d fallen hard for the guy who almost single-handedly saved his life. He was certain that giving him the jacket he made would be the end of the daily visits, the joking around, the fun.

“Baby, you think he don’t know?”

Eddie’s mama was trying not to laugh when he unloaded on her while he stitched the last patch to the front.

“He visits you every day, sometimes for hours, sometimes has to be dragged out by nurses, and ya think he don’t know?”

As usual, she had a point.

So Eddie was brave, gave Steve the jacket the next day when he stopped by.

Steve was silent as he took in every patch and pin, even the section of glitter glue Erica had insisted he add. Eddie played with his bare fingers, wishing now more than ever that he had his rings back.

Finally, Steve looked up, watery smile pointed right at Eddie.

“I love it. And you.”

Mama Munson slapped the back of his head gently later while Steve slept in the chair by his bed.

“I told ya so!” Her whisper was enough to make Steve shift around, his grip on Eddie’s hand tightening momentarily. “May have lost a nipple, but got yourself a boyfriend. That’s the Munson way.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Oh, Wayne never told you about losing his nipple in ‘Nam? Flirted with the medic and blamed it on blood loss, but wouldn’t ya know? The medic was a little light in his loafers, too!”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Wayne didn’t lose a nipple. You’re makin’ shit up again.”

“I ain’t never lied to ya! You ask Wayne tomorrow. There’s a reason he don’t ever go shirtless at the lake.”

And sure enough, the next day, Wayne lifted his shirt and showed Eddie where he had nothing but a scar where his nipple should be.

“So what about the medic?”

“Oh! Grant.” Wayne smiled. “We still write to each other sometimes. He’s married, got a few kids.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We wouldn’t have worked anyway. He lives in Maine. Can’t imagine dealin’ with moose.”

Mama Munson just raised her brows from her chair and smirked.

When Steve came by after his shift, he was wearing his jacket and the biggest smile Eddie’s ever seen.

“Anything new?”

“Nothin’ really. Just found out I’ve got a lot more in common with Wayne than I thought.”

[evercelle]

merry merry christmas!!

[bambiraptorx]

Recently I found a list I made several months ago of Big Mama words that she uses in canon, so I thought I'd share it. (Note: this is not complete and the notes on meaning/use are limited by what I guessed from context.)

Biddily-boo: auction, bidding

Bimbally bugs: no particularly new meaning, her way of saying bugs

Contrapulation: complex object, contraption

Crackadoo: mess, disturbance

Dimbally door: no particularly new meaning, her way of saying door

Fantumptuous: very good, fabulous, amazing

Fizzy-winkle: mess, chaos

Fuggy-doodles: thieves

Hollydoo: apparently a sort of limb

Malutacious monsters: positive apparently

Meddle-doos: meddlers, irritants

Oh, giggily-pin: exclamation

Scramulent: good, pleasing (occasionally used sarcastically)

Scrumbulent: good, pleasing

Silly-billy: silly

Skanktonious: stinky, repulsive

Tissle-tassle: problem, possibly a little issue that gets bigger

Thrashy-diddle: fight

And I organized them alphabetically because it was fun. If anyone has more, feel free to add!

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

TCON HEADCANON

.

I've seen so many people say "Susan is the mum", "Susan is the mother figure", "Susan is motherly" AS IF PETER MOTHERFUCKING PEVENSIE ISNT RIGHT THERE

Have you seen that boy? He is the Mum of the four. He is the mother figure. He is the Mother Hen. He has Eldest Daughter Syndrome™ and as an eldest child myself I CAN ATTEST TO IT. Look me in the eyes and tell me I am wrong. I dare you.

Susan gets her cheek kissed against her will and he has a dagger at the offender's neck. Susan, who has her own dagger out, rolls her eyes and glares at him until he sulks away with a pout scowl.

Edmund gets wounded in battle and Peter shoves all his duties onto the girls' shoulders, spending day and night at his little brother's side, wiping his forehead and dressing his wounds and pressing kisses to his brow every other minute.

Lucy latches onto his back and he doesn't say a word, simply carries on with his royal duties and ignores the looks he gets from the courtiers and lords. She spends the entire day hanging off his back, and he occasionally reminds her that "I do need to breathe, Lu, loosen your arms a little."

Any one of them turns to him with wide eyes and their bottom lip stuck out, and my guy cannot deny them. He just pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. They can have whatever they want as long as they stop making that face at him, please, for the love of Aslan.

All three of them keep calling him Mama Bear. He cannot get them to stop. Random Narnian children are picking up the habit now, because of them.

He's tired. Exhausted. And annoyed, oh Great Lion, so annoyed.

He loves his siblings but they are exhausting, and he wants to sleep without one of them causing a mess. He just wants one night when he can actually sleep through the night.

[tarjapearce]

Papa, You're Getting Old

Soccer Family! Miguel x Reader

Warning: Fluff, slight smut, suggestive towards the end, introspection, body perception and insecurities. Married couple rants and moments, no proofread.

Summary: Miguel finally notices his white hairs, comfort ensues.

A/N: Like Miguel, got a mini crisis when I spotted my first white hairs today 🫠. Then remembered mom had them around my age too so jsksk. Then remembered (x2) I had this one sitting forgotten in my files jsksk, been forgetting this AU lately :'). Help.

A/N 2: Nearly done with the moving. So we're back, I guess? jsksj.

Soccer Family Masterlist

Papa, you're getting old.

Gabi's words had unintentionally pierced through his skull, engraving with emphasis the old part in his brain after his girl found out the couple of white hairs peppering his wavy locks. He was getting older.

Fourty years of his life had gone by within the blink of an eye. When did time got itself some wheels to roll faster? Who gave it permission to do that? Yet Gabi's words lingered in his thoughts longer than they should.

He was getting old. And the silver strands popping here and there, discreetly in his gorgeous hair you loved sinking your hands into, were the irrefutable proof to understand time never stopped, not even a single second.

For the umpteenth time, he brushed his damp hair away to see if he discovered more of them, and to his bad luck, he did. Specially on the front and side bangs.

He scowled at his reflection and pursed his lips. His body still kept the musculature his younger self nurtured. He truly never believed people whenever they said that exercise kept you active and young looking.

And besides the greying hairs on his head and some on his chest, the fine lines turning a bit more prominent on his features, he looked almost the same.

The same man you had been sharing a good chunk of your life with. Almost sixteen years to be more exact if you counted those two dating years. And now he was growing old.

Miguel didn't want to admit it, but sometimes his age reminded him that his body wasn't the same anymore.

You'd often find him sleeping midway in the couch during movie nights, or his office, whenever work from home was done. Sometimes, his body would ache out of nowhere, but in truth it was mostly his bad posture due his size.

Other times, his grumpiness ran rampant through the day, leaving his coworkers to deal with it, cause he didn't have the heart to pollute his home with his bad vibes. A term  Gabriella kept including during the conversations at night to talk about her unlikeable classmates.

And now, he was glaring at his reflection for daring to do such thing as graying. Even the happy trail you loved to nuzzle had a couple of white hairs.

"You're winning that staring contest, mi amor."

Your little laugh, earned a brief chuckle from him as his shoulders slumped, and if almost sixteen years of knowing eachother had taught you something, was to perfect to a T the understanding of his body language.

You came closer and hugged him from behind, keeping his towel around his hips in place while spanking his plump ass in the process, earning another airy chuckle from him.

"Wanna tell me why, you're glaring harder at yourself this time?"

His arm wrapped gently around you and caressed your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. Yours and his reflection in the bathroom mirror staring right back.

"I'm... getting old, mi reina."

You blinked before looking up at him to have a proper view of what he meant.

"More like aging like a fine wine, Miguel."

"No. You don't understand. Look at this," he pointed at the pluck of white hairs peeking out from his roots, "I didn't have them a few months ago and now I've got a bunch of them. Everywhere!."

You smirked, "Everywhere?"

"Mi amor." He warned and you giggled, pulling him down for a kiss.

"Relax, they look gorgeous on you."

"Oh, do they now?"

With a sigh, you took his hands and gave him that look, he knew by heart as a 'really?'

"I've known you for... How long?" It was your turn to hold onto his narrow waist, holding him exactly the way his hands held yours at the beginning.

"Almost sixteen years." He mumbled, still glueing his eyes on the decaying version of himself.

You nodded and looked at the mirror. Together and close, like most of your pictures together. As always.

"Basically almost half of your life. I met you when I was twenty one, gave birth to our Gabibi by twenty three, enjoyed her for ten years, then we almost made Benjamin in the car."

He snorted and nodded, tittering silently at the sudden memory of the cops calling you out in the lookout spot.

"Almost." He mumbled and you nodded.

"Almost, yeah. But we made him! And look at him, being the smartest boy in his class."

Miguel nodded, fond of his boy's achievements.

"And now we have Rosie. Crawling and trying to walk up in every room we put her in."

"Remind me to baby proof the stairs."

You smiled and smacked his ass, "What I'm trying to get at, Papa. Is that, those white hairs in your head and body are only a beautiful proof that you've lived and loved the right way. Look at us."

You pulled him down for a peck, and cupped his cheeks, making him to look your way.

"You, Papa, mi amor, mi niño hermoso, are the best everything I've ever get to experience. And I'm honored to be the one that you're growing old with."

His eyes softened and his hands trapped yours to then kiss them.

"I'm having white hairs too! Like, the other day a kid called me señora to get me pass his ball. SEÑORA!"

His chuckle turned into a soft and genuine laugh.

"Like, the audacity!"

"You're my señora." He murmured in the side of your head, kissing it afterwards.

"Damn right I am." You nodded proudly," Like we're Mr. and Mrs. O'Hara for a reason."

His smile turned sweeter as he placed your hands around his neck and sat you before him in the sink, looking down on your eyes.

"Would you love me-"

"If you were a worm, yes. I would."

"Cállate" he laughed and cleared his throat, "I mean, you... You still want this?" He pointed at his graying hair and chest.

"That question is offensive in itself."

His eyes darted away, but your soft and gentle hands made his gaze to hold against yours again.

"I'd love you if you were bald, had extra pounds, all tattooed, piercings and stuff, a worm, hell, I'd love you the same if you were an alien."

His brow quirked, but snorted, genuinely amused at your rambling.

"I'd love you the same even if we're going through natural changes as growing old. And yes, I'd still fuck and make love to you all the same." Your hands rested on his hips.

"Oh really?"

"Obviously. That makes me worried though. You're entering a dangerous zone where women see you even more handsome. And I'm not one to be jealous, but all of this," You tapped his butt gently, "is mine."

He pecked your lips with a loving laugh. "I'm all yours. And you're pretty jealous."

"Well, yeah, I'm not sharing your dilfness with anyone. Not when I have these for myself." Your hands squeezed his firm butt and spanked it, he pursed his lips, trying his best to suppress a bashful smile.

"And I'm pretty sure in a future our caretakers would find us having sex in the most random of places in the hospice."

That pulled a merry laugh out of him to then kiss your lips.

"You're crazy."

"For you, always. But in all truth, they'll have to put me in quarantine, because I'm still jumping your bones. Even if I have to use a cane, or ask for assistance to the nurses."

"You'd be lucky if still works."

Your eyes rolled and your thighs pulled him closer to you, between your legs. His teeth bit softly his bottom lip as your hands roamed up his chest, eyes widening partially at the sudden bold move.

His soapy clean smell tickled your senses, after all, you had caught him post shower.

"Trust me, it works wonders."

He groaned when your hand slid between the folds of his towel, cupping him with a light squeeze.

"Yeah?" He half mumbled, half moaned into your lips with darkening eyes. Your touch ever delicious, and sparking the arousal only you managed to ignite in his body. Your scent remained forever etched into his brain, almost conditioning him into enter a needy mode whenever desire oozed from your pores.

You nodded with a needy 'hmm' while your hand stroked him, as if with every movement you'd jerk and caress away all those insecurities out of his mind and body.

"Definitely, mi amor."

His hips stuttered into your gentle grip, heaving a deep and shuddering breath hovering over your inviting lips, relieved and proud to see your eagerness to have him. Gray hairs and all.

The silver strands mattered little, specially when you were set into worshipping and honoring your vows.

"I think I'd love to test it's performance, just to make sure."

A crawl rolled down his spine upon your words. He loved when you talked in his language, it turned him on im such a way he didn't know it could make that part of his cortex tingle. But this moment, had him delivering sweet pecks and kisses down your neck, drunk in your softness and want for none else but him.

You still wanted him, flaws and all. He still made you a mess. And that made his cock to twitch.

"Shall we go to the testing area then, mi reina?"

His flushed and broad tip poked urgently between your clothed folds and inner thighs, hoping to slip in your scorching tightness and wreck you completely, like in his younger years.

However, as much as he wanted to take you right there, the privacy of your room offered him more space to bend and meld you at his whims. Without saying much, he threw you over his shoulder and rushed to your bedroom, thrilled for the upcoming long hours of exhaustive, mind splitting testing.

[pocket-dragon]

Fuck it, give her 3 kids!

[The mama k lore that exists solely in my maladaptive daydreams and occasionally my friends dms is vast and sometimes I make art about it]

[the-raindeer-king]

(A/N: prt 4 and the finale of the Mama Riley au! Thanks for all the support and nice comments. It means the world to me! No content warnings. Enjoy!!)

If the ground would swallow him whole, Simon would consider that a blessing. God, he never should've asked his mom about you. Of course she'd clock him. Who knows the man better than his own mom?

He stares blankly at you for far too long. Long enough that you're wondering if there was a chance Mama Riley had it all wrong. You open your mouth, ready to backtrack the statement, when Simon settles a hand on your thigh.

“I… yeah. It's true,” he answers you. He tells you it's fine if you don't feel the same. You were his mom's friend first, and he can see how deeply you care about her and vice versa. He wants his mom to be happy.

“What about what you want?” You ask, curious.

Simon's quiet for a moment, thinking. He wants to marry you, but that might be a bit much to admit right out the gate. So he gathers his nerves, and quietly admits, “I want to kiss you.”

You can't help but smile in response. You lean in a little closer to him, your eyes already half lidded. “I want you to kiss me,” you reply softly.

The kiss is a little awkward. It takes Simon a second to get comfortable in the kiss, but it's good once he does. (You find out later on that it's his second kiss.) His hands come to cradle your face, tipping your head back to deepen the kiss. That's when the kiss becomes perfect, the kind that makes your head spin.

You break away at the sound of the door opening. Simon's hands linger in your face for a moment longer, before he drops them back down to his sides. But you're quick to lace your fingers with his, more than eager to start displaying affection. You've been holding back for far too long.

Mama Riley smiles at the both of you, a coffee in hand. “You kids get your feelings worked out?” She teases.

You and Simon share a look, before responding simultaneously.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Yeah, Mum.”

Going to sleep that night is incredibly bittersweet. You two finally made progress, just barely started your relationship, and he's leaving in the morning. Simon has never hated his job more than now. He's waited, since the day y'all met, for this, and he doesn't feel like he even has a chance to enjoy it.

But it makes returning, two months later, all the more worth it. This isn't the first time you've gone with Mama Riley to pick him up, but this time is different. There's no fanfare, no balloons or signs, although you and Mama Riley had joked about it. But there is a new energy in the air, excitement to see your boyfriend.

He's easy to spot amongst the crowd, tall and imposing. But you see the way his shoulders sag with relief, when he spots you two. He greets his mom first, crushing her in a hug. There's some whispered words between the two of them, before Simon turns his attention to you.

He hesitates, before tugging his face mask down. “Can I kiss you?”

You can't help but giggle a little, nodding your head. His hands move to cradle your face, so gentle despite the horrors he's witnessed. And when your lips meet his, Simon decides there's no better way to welcome him home.

[pearlsinmyhair]

⭑ experience

thinking about how hobie is a firm believer of experiencing music.

which is not an unusual or particularly punk concept. he likes concerts because he can feel the base in his chest, on and off the stage. he likes meeting new artists because you start to understand the soul of songs alongside the sounds.

and when you tell him you love a song, he asks if you want to feel it.

and of course you interpret this as getting better speakers, or going to hear it live, or some typical way of feeling music. so when he offers up a night at his place to do so, you don’t expect anything crazy.

but hobie does his research, listening to the song over and over until ever note, every thrum, every vocal rhythm is committed to memory.

why? , you may be asking.

well, it’s much easier to fuck you into the mattress to the tune of it when he can anticipate the exact rhythm his thrusts need to be.

he’ll throw you into missionary, working you up until your dripping and needy. he’ll grab his phone and click a playlist, sliding into you as the first sounds of your song come through his bluetooth speakers.

and he commits. doesn’t matter how much you beg him for a change, he’s sticking to the song until it’s over.

“oh fuck, hobie. please-“ you whine, your hands grasping the pillow behind your head as your hips buck, trying to work him up into moving faster.

“easy there.” he coos, almost mockingly as he places a hand on your lower abdomen to press you firmly down into the bed. “i thought you liked this song.”

the sex is amazing, but it always is with hobie.

the bad part is the aftermath.

because now, when the song plays on the radio or your playlists or anywhere, you get a pavlovian response of heat between your legs and a throb in your core.

and it’s even worse when hobie’s there, because he’ll lean close and whisper

“i still remember the tune if you feel like another round.”

as his hand strokes up your thigh, cupping your crotch in his palm as you keen.

i’m back~ did you miss me?

[mochinomnoms]

Thinking about the Tweels parents reacted to them bringing home a partner, think of how excited mama Ashengrotto will be when Azul brings home his mate. After seeing Azul alone, depressed, and self-loathing for so many years, seeing him have the confidence to bring home his mate. If he is in his Merform she is even more thrilled. When she sees them comfort and hug him and allows Azul to cling to them she may faint. If/when they get married, you know she is throwing the biggest wedding reception in her restaurant. Yuu’s dress or tux, completely covered no matter the cost, all food, covered. She is just happy that her son found someone and Mr. Ashengrotto has to hold her back and keep her from squeezing Yuu to tight out of joy. She would also drop hints that she would be a great grandma and show you how cute Azul was in all his baby pictures.

Azul would probably die of embarrassment when his mom shows baby pictures and when they are finally alone (thanks to Azul’s Stepdad reminding her she has a Business to take care of) he finally relents:

“I’m sorry, she is just excited to meet you,” Azul has yuu curled in his many arms inside his octopot.

“Is she the reason you waited so long to introduce me to your parents?”

“Yes… also she has three books full of photos hidden in the house I can’t find and my step-father won’t tell me where they are. They just appear when guest come over and disappear when I try to burn them later.”

“Well, we are meeting your Grandma tomorrow so things should be better there!”

Azul groaned.

“More picture books?”

“Six books. I have no clue how she got half of those photos, I think she hired the tweels behind my back!”

She's so happy upon learning about Azul's partner. Ms Iris Ashengrotto is a sweet woman whose restaurant started from the bottom to become a renounced, exclusive dining experience that only the most wealthy, prim and proper folks under the sea could have the privilege of eating. It's why the Ashengrottos and the Leech family have worked together for so long, it makes a fine establishment for their… “business” deals. She's what we would equate to Gordon Ramsay, really: no-nonsense, with strict and high expectations in her kitchen. Similarly, she is oh so sweet with children, her own especially.

So it was a pain to watch Azul grow up so lonely, though she could never get him to tell her why. Iris assumed that it was due to bullying, most merfolk are not kind to cecaelias, but she couldn't go off and scare random children into not interacting with her son. Nor could she talk to their parents without knowing for sure if that was the case, or if her son was just naturally shy. It didn't help her worries when her son got skinner and skinner, thinking she didn't notice him look at his body in the mirror as he poked and prodded at what little fat remained on him.

She took comfort when the Leech parents sent their twins off to keep Azul company, though he didn't seem to warm up to them for quite some time. Even when he went to NRC with the twins, opening his own establishment, Iris was still concerned about him making friends. It's why she was so pleasantly surprised to hear from her son during his second year about his partner. He's shyly gushing about you to him, a magicless human that slithered their way into his locked up heart. With the way he describes you, like you hung the moon and starts, she's already planning a wedding in her head.

It takes some nudging after that to get him to bring you for a visit, but he eventually did over the summer break. Oh, she was delighted to see his limbs unconsciously curl around you, holding you close as you curled into him yourself. You were so cute! A sweetheart! A delight! A perfect child-in-law! Azul, please forgive her if she starts sobbing, but how else is a mother supposed to react when she sees her child gaze at someone with so much love in their heart?

The first day she's monopolized your time, feeding you and Azul all sorts of food and snacks, offhandedly mentioning that the two of you would have to fatten up a bit to give her health grandchildren. She had to withhold a laugh at Azul's mortified expression. Iris has several albums of baby and childhood pictures, eager to coo over how cute and chubby Azul was as a baby. Her son is sulking at the other end of the couch, but he still has a tentacle curled around your ankle, never leaving you for long.

It's when she's hiding away her album (one of three, Azul's destroyed many be she always has spares), that she overhears your conversation. Iris had stopped by his bedroom to let you two know that she needed to return to the restaurant, but instead quietly delighted at the sight of you two in his octopot. A cecaelia's octopot, hiding place, is a very private and intimate place. So seeing you, cradled in Azul's lap, as his many arms hold you close to him, makes her heart swell.

She decides to leave you two alone, taking one last peek as you giggle at a pouting Azul, before sharing a soft kiss. Iris is smiling at the sight, sighing as she can finally relax, knowing her son is going to be taken care of.

[iwantscarlettandlizzie]

Wanda’s surprised when she gets a phone call from you at half five; you’re supposed to be meeting some friends at a restaurant at 6, and so she would’ve expected you to be getting ready to leave by now.

“Hi baby, are you getting ready..” she cuts herself off when she hears your shaky breaths on the other side of the call. “Oh y/n what’s wrong?”

“C-can you c-come h-home please.”

“I’m only two minutes from home sweetheart. Take some nice deep breaths for mama, okay? I’m right here.”

She keeps repeating those words until you hear the front door open.

She rushes in and sees your tear stained cheeks, instantly sitting and pulling you onto her lap.

She gently guides your head to the crook of her neck, as she slips her hands under your shirt, her touch on your bare back helping to ground you and calm you down.

She hears a soft mumble of “why does everything feel like it’s too much for me?”

She guides your chin up with her finger, until your gaze meets hers. “Sometimes, baby, our brains need a little break, huh? You’ve been so busy, and you just need the rest of today to rest, anything else feels like too much. That’s okay, we don’t have to do anything else today sweetheart.”

“But my friends-“

She shushes you by placing her thumb on your lip. “Shhhh, that can wait sweet love, you need rest. My good girl, rest with mama.”

No more words are spoken out loud, merely a sense of comfort washing over the both of you, being able to just share this moment together; holding off the worries that tomorrow could bring.

tag list: @marvelwomenarehot0

[yuus-sentient-teddy]

While stuff is going down on Sage's Island, what's happening with some of the families of the NRC students?

S.T.Y.X. probably had to be the ones to tell the families the situation. Even though they explain it as lightly as possible so that there's no major panic, that won't stop the families from worrying.

I thought about Deuce's mom after Malleus casted the spell, when Deuce hasn't called her to talk about his day. Her intuition is telling her that something is amiss, but she tries to brush it off even though Deuce has never missed a call.

She sends a good morning text the following day.

She tries calling him an hour later when there's no response. What if he got sick and that's why he hasn't said anything?

But the call immediately goes to voicemail.

Okay, don't panic. She's sure her son must have forgotten to charge his phone (unlikely, a part of her says) or maybe he's deep asleep from being sick.

Dila debates on whether to call the school. She doesn't want to be overprotective or overbearing. . . and yet her mother's intuition is still screaming at her that something isn't right.

It wouldn't hurt to just be sure, right?

Dila's heart sinks when the call to the school immediately goes to voicemail.

The next chance she gets, Dila drives to the Trappola residence. She starts to feel a little ridiculous when Mrs. Trappola answers the door without a single bit of worry. What if it's nothing? But she still asks if Mrs. Trappola has heard from her son.

Mrs. Trappola shakes her head. "No, but he usually talks with his brother a lot. What's up?"

Dila explains how her son hasn't called or texted her and that the call to the school was unsuccessful. "Hmmm... it could be your phone. Let me try calling."

But the same thing happens--the school doesn't pick up. Dila notices something she missed in the beginning: Mrs. Trappola's stiffness beneath a casual mask. Does Mrs. Trappola also feel like something is wrong?

"Hang on, let me try calling his brother."

He's casual when he picks up and tells his mom that Ace hadn't called him last night. But there is a bit of trepidation when he asks, "Is something going on?"

"No, just checking. I'll call you later." Mrs. Trappola lets out a breath and meets Dila's eyes. Both mothers recognize the look in the other's eyes.

"Do you know Clover Bakery?" Dila asks. "Deuce told me that the son of the family who runs it is in the same dorm as him and Ace."

Mrs. Trappola nods. "Ace mentioned him a few times. Trey."

"I'm going to go over there. Want to come with?"

"Give me a second to get my stuff."

Two worried mothers become three, and they're all sitting around a table in the back of the bakery while a father is with the employees at the front. At this point, it's clear that something has happened to their sons and the school.

The three discuss what to do next. Should they try calling the school again? Reach out to the police station? To another family? How about contacting that Diamond kid's family?

But why stop at this part of the world?

Perhaps a while after the sleeping spell is cast, a little heir is wandering the streets pouting because no one is telling him what is going on.

Something has happened to his uncle, that he knows, but he doesn't know just exactly what.

This little heir may bump into an older woman, a grandmother, who asks why he's wandering around on his own so late in the day. He almost cries in frustration while telling her about the adults not telling him anything about his uncle. He lets slip that his uncle goes to Night Raven College.

That makes the grandmother pause, the uneasy feeling inside of her making itself known once again.

She tells the child that his family might be worried about him and eventually persuades him that going home would be a good idea. She escorts him out of the slums, listening to him talk about his uncle, until some guards find the two.

Before the guards escort the little prince back home, the grandmother asks about Night Raven College. Her grandson is a student there and in the same dorm as Leona Kingscholar. The guards reply with an apology and that they have not heard of an incident at the school.

But she stops them. Surely, they must have heard of something. She doesn't miss the fleeting look in one of the guards' eyes--perhaps that woman has a child who goes there too?

That guard tells her partner to go on ahead, and once the prince and his guard are far enough, she tells the grandmother that all communication to the school and Leona--even to anywhere on the island--have been unsuccessful. Other ways of communicating are being sought, but the guard is bracing for the worse.

She tells the grandmother that if she hears anything, she'll come find her.

The parents of four families congregate in Clover Bakery before it opens. It's clear that no one has gotten much sleep. Cups of coffee are handed out as they all take a seat in the bakery's main area.

"Any word?"

"No."

"Actually," Mrs. Trappola says, "my eldest told me that his friend on the Land of Dawning was given an evacuation order alongside every single citizen there."

". . . The entire land?" Mrs. Clover says faintly, disbelieved.

"The entire land." The weight of the words is heavy and they all silently contemplate what the evacuation could mean.

"Doesn't the heir of Briar Valley also go to the school?" Mrs. Diamond asks. "It's possible he might be keeping everyone safe. Plus--" she fixes a bright smile on her face--"our boys have survived two Overblots. What's one more?"

"There's also a magicless student who goes to the school," Mrs. Trappola says. "I heard from Ace that they've gone through multiple Overblots and survived without so much a scratch. If they can stay standing after that kind of disaster, then this should be nothing for them."

". . . I'm sorry, did you say multiple?"

The bell above the door chimes. In steps none other than Mrs. Rosehearts and a man who seems smaller in her presence. It's not missed the way the woman stands stiffly, and in the corner of Dila's eye, she sees Mr. and Mrs. Clover sitting up straighter.

"Is there anything we can help you with?" Mrs. Clover asks. Dila hears a little tremble in her voice as she tries to sound neutral. She meets Mrs. Diamond's eyes across the way and the two share the same thought: there's a strained history between the Rosehearts and Clovers.

That is when Dila remembers a phone call with Deuce early in the school year--Riddle and Trey's past and Riddle's Overblot.

Mrs. Rosehearts takes a deep breath and lets it out in a half-huff. It seems like she's fighting with her pride. "Yes. Have you heard from the school or your sons?"

"No. None of us have."

Mr. Clover gestures to the chairs. "Have a seat."

The man accompanying Mrs. Rosehearts, Mr. Rosehearts, accepts the invitation. However, halfway sitting down, he notices his wife is still standing. "I'm fine. This shouldn't take long," she says.

He blinks, then fully sits. "So, uh, what have we missed?" he asks.

After the two are filled in, Mr. Rosehearts nods sadly while Mrs. Rosehearts's scowl deepens. "So there's nothing." She almost spits out the last word.

"What about you? Have you tried anything?" Mrs. Diamond asks calmly, like the two were acquaintances.

"Of course I have! But nothing worked!" Mrs. Rosehearts shuts her eyes, tightens her grip on her handbag, and tries to calm down from the outburst.

"We both tried calling people we knew on the island, but our calls kept bouncing," Mr. Rosehearts supplies. "I heard about the Land of Dawning evacuation from a friend of mine. They also said that S.T.Y.X. was the one issuing it."

"S.T.Y.X?!" the room explodes.

"They're only involved if there's an Overblot. So does that mean. . . ?" Mr. Clover doesn't dare finish the sentence.

"But what kind of Overblot causes an entire island to be shut down and another island to evacuate?" Dila asks.

"One that can be caused by a powerful mage," Mrs. Trappola softly says.

The room is once again blanketed by horrified and tense silence. Thoughts return to what Mrs. Diamond said earlier. Doesn't the heir of Briar Valley also go to the school?

Mrs. Rosehearts suddenly spins around and marches to the door.

"Where are you going?" her husband asks.

"To the emissary. I will not sit idly and ponder useless things with useless outcomes while my son is in potential danger."

She's halfway through the door when her and everyone's phones go off simultaneously, creating a cacophony of text notification sounds. They're whipped out and Dila holds her breath as she opens the text application.

. . .

Mr. Clover takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. Mr. Diamond runs a hand through his hair. And Mr. Trappola and Mr. Rosehearts can't stop staring at the message on his phone.

It felt good finally having a confirmation that something was amiss and knowing that a major organization was handling it. At the same, however, it left longing for more information.

"What about my son?!" Mrs. Rosehearts's demand to know her son's well-being felt like a reflection of what the other parents were feeling inside. Anger, worry, helplessness.

Mrs. Clover sits back in her chair with a distant, worried gaze. Mrs. Diamond leans on her husband's shoulder. Mrs. Trappola rubs her face. Mrs. Rosehearts slams the door as she leaves the bakery.

After a few attempts, Dila finally opens the internet application. It brings her to a news article from a while ago, written by a Sage's Island reporter, and at the very top is a picture of her son performing in the Star Sending Ceremony. She can't stop staring at it. What if she never sees him again?

"Deuce. . ."

Meanwhile, in Sunset Savannah, a little prince runs down a street. His head turns wildly, searching for a certain face. Anyone outside pause to stare at him, no doubt curious as to why the heir is here in this neighborhood of all places. He finally spots her leaving a run-down home and sprints the rest of the way.

The grandmother hears him before she sees him. He slows to a stop before her and is panting as he says, "I know what's happening! The island is shut down and some sticks are fixing it!"

"'Some sticks'?" she repeats, puzzled.

He nods feverishly. "Yeah! That's what I heard."

She assumes it's magic-related. "What about the island? Did you hear why it is shut down?"

He goes to answer, but pauses. "Um... I didn't," he says bashfully.

She's disappointed, but doesn't let that show. "That's all right. Thank you for telling me about what you heard."

"Prince Cheka!" Marching down the street is the guard from yesterday. The little prince's ears press down. "Please, notify any of us when you plan to leave the palace," she says, though it sounds more like scolding.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to let grandmother know about the school."

The guard sighs. "Your parents have already been told and they expect you back soon. I will stand guard beside the house. Let me know when you are ready to return."

"Can you tell grandmother what you know?" Cheka asks. "I saw you talking to her yesterday."

The guard, beneath the stoic exterior, had been impatient to tell the grandmother. "Very well."

She relays the message she, a couple of the other guards, and the queen received. An incident on Sage's Island. . . All travel to Sage's Island and the Land of Dawn are prohibited. . . S.T.Y.X. is currently handling the situation and will notify when the situation has been resolved.

"I am sorry I can't give you more information," the guard says.

Grandma Bucchi shakes her head. "You've given me enough."

She makes her way to a cracked chair and tries not to fall back on it as she sits. "Are you okay?" Cheka asks, approaching as the guard readies herself to help.

"I'm all right," she half lies. She prays to the stars of the coming night that nothing is happening to Ruggie. She already lost her daughter-in-law and son; she cannot lose her grandson.

"He'll figure out a way to survive. He's resourceful," she says, partly as a reminder to herself.

"My uncle might be helping him. They might be helping each other, like the King of Beasts and the hyenas!" Cheka says, brightening.

Grandma Bucchi knows the story well--everyone in Sunset Savannah does. It came to mind when Ruggie told her about his working relationship with Leona, and the thought wasn't lost on Ruggie either.

Perhaps they are helping each other through the danger that has taken hold of the island. "It is possible. My grandson is in the same dorm as your uncle."

A/N: I have been dying to share this with ya'll for a couple of weeks. I also kind of oneshot this XD

[triona-tribblescore]

And so it begins...

Next:

(Yo-ho-ho) A Ninjas Life for me

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