#the children on troublemaker street

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

I did this poll in only swedish like a year ago and decided I could be international today <3

[betweenstorms]

Part One of Where We Part (next chapter) (masterlist) Childhood Friend!Simon x fem!Reader

Before he was Ghost, he was Simon Riley.

A quiet boy with eyes too old for his young face, always watching, always listening, always alone.

You had known him for as long as you could remember.

He was the lanky boy next door, the one with too much burden in his eyes, the one who never talked about the bruises or the shouting that came from his house at night. Even as kids, there was something about him that set him apart, something that made you want to protect him, even though he never let you. But you’d always notice the new bruises on his arms, the way his hazel eyes would darken whenever Tommy, his younger brother dragged him into trouble and the way he seemed to flinch at loud noises, at sudden movements.

Tommy Riley was loud, rude, and as wild as a storm untethered.

He was a real troublemaker, you never trusted his cruel grin and his rude words, never felt safe near the sharp edges of his temper. He thrived on chaos, a force of destruction that couldn’t be tamed, while Simon stood in his shadow, as if he existed solely as an apology—for his brother’s recklessness, for his family’s dysfunctionality and even for his own existence.

You were the neighbour’s only child, the one who never quite understood why Simon kept so much distance between you.

Something about him tugged at you—a quiet pull that made you want to reach into the cold and offer him the warmth of your world. You felt a strange protectiveness over him, as if it was your duty as someone older than him, some unspoken responsibility you carried without question. Through your school years, you kept watch over him, whether he knew it or not. When the students mocked him you were there, standing up for him, silencing the cruel whispers, even when it cost you friendships. The rumours about the Rileys circled like vultures, but you shut them down, defending a boy who never asked for it, who seemed more annoyed by your efforts than grateful.

You weren’t friends, after all, not really.

He never showed any sign that he wanted your help. But still, you couldn’t stop yourself. Something deep inside told you it was the right thing to do, even if Simon would never see it.

However, your parents, like most of the neighbourhood, kept their distance from the Rileys. It wasn’t something openly discussed, only whispered behind cupped hands at the local market, murmured in the pews of the church, or exchanged in knowing glances at school gates. Yet those looks exchanged between the adults made it clear—people didn’t want to get involved. The Rileys were trouble, everyone said, and it was best to leave them to their own devices.

You were forbidden from playing with Simon or Tommy, even though they were the only children near your age on the street.

It was an unspoken rule, one you didn’t quite understand as a kid but followed anyway, wishing things could be different. You were young then, far too young and innocent to grasp the weight of the shadows that lingered in the Riley household.

You didn’t know why Mr. Riley’s shouts echoed through the night, why Mrs. Riley wore bruises like secret confessions beneath her smile, why Simon’s silence felt heavy, like a wound too deep to heal. Their world felt so different from yours, a place of suffering you couldn’t quite touch. But as the years slipped by, as childhood faded into adolescence, the picture began to sharpen. With it, your protectiveness over Simon deepened, as the reality of what his father was doing became impossible to ignore. Understanding bloomed where innocence once was, and with it, the weight of knowing.

You couldn’t fathom how your parents, with their kind hearts and warm smiles, could do nothing.

How they could turn their backs on Mrs. Riley, her frail form draped in sorrow, and her two children, who so clearly needed help. You didn’t understand why they never returned Mrs. Riley’s weak greetings, why they closed themselves off from her suffering. It baffled you how they could step over Tommy, sprawled on their porch, drunk or worse, as if he were just another mess to be swept away.

But what haunted you most was their indifference to Simon—the boy your age, thin as a whisper, burdened with bruises no child should carry. How could they look at him and not see? How could they not feel the silent plea in his eyes? Where was their empathy for a child, for a boy who wore his misery like a second skin?

Oh, Simon.

His hazel eyes stayed with you, always, like shadows that linger long after the sun sets. There was something far too ancient in them, like he’d seen too much for someone who hadn’t yet grown into his own skin. They held a weariness that made you wonder what horrors had carved their marks so deeply into him. The whispers followed him everywhere, rumours circling like vultures over carrion. You didn’t know where they came from, Tommy’s careless tongue, or maybe the other nosy students who relished the cruelty of gossip, but they stained everything, leaving you wondering what was real.

You heard that Mr. Riley brought all kinds of dangerous animals into their home, taunting Simon with them, forcing him to kiss a snake, like it was some twisted game, some kind of sick power move. And then there were the stories of his father dragging him to those grim concerts, where violence blurred into spectacle.

They said he’d made Simon laugh at the overdose of a prostitute, made him witness things no child should ever see. You didn’t know if it was all true, but it didn’t matter. The shadow of those stories lingered over him, heavy and unshakable, and you could see it in the way the boy carried himself, in the haunted quiet of his presence.

There was a summer day, thick with heat and sorrow, that still clung to you like a forgotten song.

You had just turned nineteen that July, on the cusp of leaving behind the life you knew, ready to escape to the vastness of London and its promise of university, independence, and everything adulthood might hold. It was one of those warm, languid August evenings, where the sky blushed pink and gold, and the air was alive with the buzz of cicadas and the scent of overripe grass. You were out with your dear friends from high school, celebrating the end of an era. There was laughter, careless and sweet, the kind that only comes after a few too many drinks. A can of cheap beer was cradled in your hand as you leaned back in the passenger seat of your friend’s car, music pulsing around you like a heartbeat as you drove aimlessly through the familiar streets of your suburban neighbourhood.

The night felt like a farewell, a last taste of youth before everything shifted into the unknown. You giggled at something absurd, head dizzy and spinning, when suddenly, through the haze of the moment, you saw him.

Simon Riley.

There was something achingly bittersweet in seeing him there, swallowed by the dusk, his figure hunched as always.

Something inside you shifted, a strange ache that mingled with the buzz of the celebration—a mixture of nostalgia and sorrow that you couldn’t quite place. The guilt of childhoods lived on parallel tracks, always near, but never close enough.

Maybe it was the booze loosening your thoughts, making everything softer and hazier, or maybe it was the looming departure that made everything feel both fleeting and too permanent at once.

“Slow down,” you blurted out, your voice almost drowned out by the music. Your friend gave you a puzzled look, but complied, easing the car to a crawl. 

Simon walked on, dull eyes cast down like he had grown used to the world pretending not to see him.

“Riley,” you called out, your voice weak and unsure. “Fancy a ride?”

Your friends hissed, their voices sharp with confusion and disbelief. “What are you doin’?” one of them asked, eyes wide in the rearview mirror. “Girl, you’re mental!” another laughed, but their words were just background noise to you.

Your gaze stayed locked on Simon Riley, unwavering, even as embarrassment burned at the back of your neck.

For a moment, it felt as though time stretched impossibly thin, the space between you and him suspended in something fragile and delicate. And then, slowly, Simon stopped.

His hazel eyes caught yours beneath the dim glow of the streetlights.

He furrowed his brows when he recognized you, the corners of his lips tightening in that way that told you he was already annoyed.

You flashed him a drunken smile, but it was crooked, empty, a weak imitation of your usual confidence. You leaned your chin on your palm, trying to ignore the sudden flood of emotions rising in your chest. You studied him, trying to find traces of the boy you once knew under the young man he’d become.

“So?” You asked, feeling exposed, a little too vulnerable under his gaze. Embarrassment and sadness twined together like vines around your ribs, squeezing tightly.

Simon’s response was cold, clipped, dismissive. “Don’t need a ride.”

His voice was deeper, rougher than you remembered, gruff with the weight of years that had passed since you last spoke. Had it really been that long? Long enough that you had forgotten what he even sounded like?

“Oh, you sure? We're headin’ that way anyway,” you hummed, trying to keep your tone light, though something in you was desperate, like this fleeting encounter needed to mean more than it did. But Simon just scoffed, a sound that cut through the night like a blade.

He turned away, resuming his walk down the pavement.

Your friends erupted into giggles, snickering at the awkwardness of the situation, their teasing only deepening the strange ache in your chest. But you tuned them out. With a sigh, you made up your mind. Fueled by guilt, nostalgia, and a bit of reckless drunkenness, you reached for the door handle.

“See y'all tomorrow,” you muttered, stepping out of the car before any of them could protest. One of your friends called, but you didn’t look back and didn't offer any explanation.

Without another thought, you hurried after Simon, your footsteps quickening as if you could somehow close the long years of distance in a single stride.

He didn’t stop for you.

He didn’t even turn to acknowledge you as you caught up, breathing rapidly, walking beside him. Meanwhile, the car pulled away, loud music fading into the distance, leaving you two in suffocating silence. His head was bent low, gaze fixed on the cracked pavement beneath his feet, but you kept your eyes on him—on his broad shoulders that seemed too tense compared to yours.

For what felt like an eternity, neither of you spoke.

The night pressed down on you, the air too warm for comfort. Your face was flushed, whether from the alcohol coursing through your veins or the embarrassment of trailing after Simon, you couldn’t be sure. Each step felt heavier than the last, the awkwardness between you building with every inch you walked together, the distance between you palpable even though you two were side by side.

It was hard to keep your balance, the world around you tilting ever so slightly with each step. You stumbled once, your foot catching the edge of the pavement, and cursed under your breath as you regained your footing. You could have sworn you heard Simon sigh, a quiet, annoyed sound, barely more than a breath, but it stung nonetheless.

“So,” you chuckled awkwardly, desperate to fill the growing silence. Your voice sounded too loud, too false against the quiet of the neighbourhood. “Workin’ late, huh? Mum told me you got a job at the butcher’s. The one near the market, right?”

Simon didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze remained fixed ahead. For a fleeting second, you thought that he might ignore you entirely. But then, in that low, gravelly tone, he muttered, “Yeah. S’what I do.”

His response was clipped, offering no room for conversation, but you pressed on, ignoring the tension tightening around you like a noose. “Must be rough, that. The long shifts, I mean. Can’t be easy workin’ with knives and saws all day.”

Simon glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable in the dim glow of the streetlights.

“It pays the bills,” he muttered, his voice flat. There was no hint of the boy you once knew, just a hardened young man who had learned long ago not to rely on anyone.

The conversation died again, leaving only the sound of your footsteps against the pavement. You swallowed hard, guilt rising again like a tide, mingling with the familiar ache of melancholy that always seemed to creep in when you thought of him.

Simon Riley had always been on the edge of your life, a shadow lingering just out of reach. You had never really known him, not truly. He was a figure cast in half-light, always present but never close enough to collide with. You had always watched him from afar, tried to stand up for him when the world became too cruel, but what had any of it meant? He never asked for your help, never even hinted that he needed it. So why bother now?

Simon hadn’t asked for your company—he never had.

And now, standing next to him, you felt that distance more acutely than ever. His silence was loud, louder than anything he could have said, and it left you feeling small, foolish.

The streetlights cast long shadows over the cracked pavement, the distant hum of the city the only sound filling the void. The warm summer night, which had felt so light and carefree only moments ago, now seemed oppressive, weighing down on your shoulders like an invisible burden. Before you could open your mouth to say something uncomfortable again, Simon’s voice cut through the air, sharp and laced with irritation.

“You don’t need to do this.”

You blinked, the alcohol making your thoughts slow to catch up. “Do what?”

Simon glanced at you, his hazel eyes dark and distant, a flicker of something hard lingering just beneath the surface.

“This,” he gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Pity. Guilt. Or whatever it is that’s makin’ you follow me right now.”

Pity? Guilt? That wasn’t what this was—was it? No, of course not. You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him he was wrong, that you weren’t here out of some misguided sense of obligation. But the look on his face stopped you. It was a look of exhaustion, of someone who had heard this all before, someone who had learned not to trust the intentions of others.

“I’m not—” you started, your voice shaky, but he cut you off again.

“I know you’re leavin’,” Simon murmured, his tone dry, as if stating an obvious fact. “Heard your folks talkin’ about it. You’re off to London, right? So, whatever this is, don’t bother.”

The embarrassment burned hot and heavy in your chest, spreading to your cheeks and ears.

“Look, I’m not tryin’ to—” you began again, your voice softer, almost pleading.

Simon shook his head, his expression hardening. “Don’t. I don’t need your bloody charity, alright? I mean it. I don’t need your… whatever the fuck this is.”

The words struck you like a fist to the chest, stealing the air from your lungs.

You halted in your tracks, and to your surprise, he did the same. The space between you felt heavier now, like it carried the weight of all the years that had passed, thick with everything unsaid. You bit down on your lower lip, your gaze lifting slowly, hesitantly, to meet his.

He towered over you now, though once you’d been the taller one. Despite the age gap, the few years between you, despite the fact that you were older than him, Simon seemed like someone who had long since outgrown you, both physically and mentally.

Funny, how time had stretched and twisted between you both, long enough to turn everything unfamiliar. It had been so long, too long, hadn’t it? Since you’d last spoken to him properly. Long enough that you couldn’t quite place when the shift had happened, when Simon had become a stranger to you, a distant figure in your memory rather than the boy next door.

“I don’t wanna leave like this,” you whispered, dropping your gaze to your feet, your voice barely louder than the rustle of leaves in the warm night air. Your hands itched with nervous energy, and you scratched your elbow awkwardly, trying to anchor yourself. “I know we weren’t exactly friends, but that doesn’t mean I never cared. About you, I mean. And I—” you paused, the words tangling on your tongue, too clumsy, too inadequate for the heaviness in your chest. “But you’re right. It doesn’t matter now.”

Simon sighed again.

He ran a hand over his face, rubbing at the corners of his eyes like he was too tired for this, too tired for you. The way he looked at you, it was like you were the one out of place, like he was the older one, the wiser one. There was something in his gaze that cut deeper than any words ever could, something that said he didn’t know what to do with you. Not now, not then, maybe not ever.

For a long moment, he said nothing, just stared, as if deciding whether it was even worth responding.

“The only advice I can give you,” he said, each word deliberate, like he was choosing them with care, “is to live your life. ‘Cause that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. And if we’re lucky, we’ll never have to think about each other ever again.”

The deadpan delivery should’ve stung, should’ve hurt more than it did, instead, you found yourself chuckling softly, soft and bitter at the same time. The absurdity of it, of this whole encounter, made you want to cry and laugh in equal measure. Somehow, he’d managed to diffuse the tension in the most Simon way possible.

But still, it felt like it had always been there, hadn’t it? Unsaid words, missed chances, a history that never was.

You looked up at him, your lips twitching into a small, fragile smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Is that your idea of a pep talk?” you said, trying to make light of the ache that had settled deep in your bones.

Simon tilted his head slightly, watching you with those unreadable hazel eyes. “Not really my strong suit, is it?” he muttered, his voice low and hoarse.

“No, not at all.”

He looked at you, his eyes still guarded, as though he was searching for something in your expression that he couldn’t quite find. Yet he didn’t flinch, didn’t soften. Didn’t return the smile either. Instead, he shrugged with a kind of finality that made your heart sink.

Simon nodded towards the road ahead.

“It’s late. I’ll walk you home.”

The offer was simple, but it carried an underlying meaning, like it was both a farewell and an acknowledgment that, despite everything, you had once meant something to him, even if only in passing.

There was something about his detachment, his unwillingness to engage with the past, that hurt more than you expected. Maybe you had wanted some closure, some understanding from him, a sign that what you felt wasn’t one-sided all these years. But Simon wasn’t offering that. He wasn’t offering anything at all.

You didn’t argue.

You didn’t even protest that you were fine on your own, that you didn’t need his protection. Instead, you forced a weak smile onto your face and started walking, hoping the darkness would hide the tears pricking at your eyes. The sound of your footsteps seemed louder now, echoing against the stillness of the night, as if you were both walking away from something you couldn’t quite name.

“Y’know, not too long ago, I used to walk you home after church on Sundays. When your mum went to the market. Remember?”

Simon didn’t say anything. You thought maybe he hadn’t heard you, but then he hummed, a low, almost noncommittal sound. He wasn’t the boy who needed walking home anymore, and you weren’t the one who could offer him safety.

The walk was silent. But what had you expected? That he’d thank you for some half-hearted attempt at connection after all these years? That he’d open up, that there would be a cathartic moment where you’d both acknowledge the traumatic childhood you shared with him and walk away with some semblance of peace?

Still, it was strange, walking side by side with someone who felt like a stranger, yet also someone you had known your entire life.

The short walk to your parents' house felt longer than it should have. As you approached the familiar gate, the scent of roses hit you, your mother’s prized bush blooming full and red next to the fence.

Simon stopped just outside your childhood home, as if some invisible boundary had been set between him and you. His eyes glanced at the rose bush, then back at you, his expression unreadable, that same distant mask he had worn for years.

“Thanks for walkin’ me home,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, though you weren’t sure why you felt the need to lower it. It wasn’t likely that your parents would be waiting behind the curtains, watching this uncomfortable farewell.

They never cared much for Simon anyway.

His face was unreadable, shadowed by the dim light that illuminated the porch, but you could see his hazel eyes flicker as they scanned your features, taking you in like he was committing this moment to memory. And for a fleeting second, it was as if you weren’t standing on the cusp of goodbye, as if you were still those two awkward kids, stuck in a world neither of you could quite escape.

You did the same. Your eyes traced the sharp lines of his face, his sandy blonde hair, his broad shoulders, the faint stubble along his jawline that he hadn’t had when you last saw him. There was something fragile about this moment, a shared understanding that neither of you would speak of, but it was there all the same.

Before you could second-guess yourself, before you could let the fear of rejection stop you, you took a step forward and wrapped your arms around him. The contact was sudden, your body instinctively pulling him into a hug that neither of you expected.

It was an impulsive decision, a desperate, clumsy attempt to offer some comfort, to bridge the gap between the boy you once knew and the man standing before you. You pulled him into you, your blushed face pressing against his hard chest. For a heartbeat, he froze, stiff beneath your touch, and you immediately regretted it.

You didn’t know why you did it.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the lingering guilt, the sense that you had never done enough, never said enough. But as soon as you felt the warmth of his body against yours, the solidness of him, you realised your mistake. This wasn’t the kind of goodbye Simon wanted. You pulled away quickly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your heart racing.

“Take care, Si,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t wait for him to respond, didn’t dare look at his face to gauge his reaction. Instead, you turned on your heel, practically fleeing up the path to your front door, leaving him standing there beneath the roses—roses that were as red as your cheeks, blooming in the quiet of the night.

[sassycheesecake]

Giggling like a lovesick teen, you intertwine your hands with your husband Osamu Miya, as you try to walk up the path that leads to your house.

The black-haired man just shakes his head with a smile at your silly antics, happy to be home after you just came back from a much needed date night, leaving Atsumu in charge to watch your triplets.

As soon as you enter your suspiciously dark house, you flip on the lights and hear a mix between a hiss and a groan.

You and Osamu look at each other and make the way to the living room where you find the babysitter.

You frown in confusion when you spot your brother-in-law, Atsumu Miya just waking up apparently from his nap on your living room couch, the TV still running on a random show he probably fell asleep to.

As soon as the blonde spots you, he stretches on the couch and greets you.

"Hey (Y/N), hey bro. How was date night?" The Setter gets up, stretches some more and makes his way over to you.

"Pretty good. Food was fantastic and wine amazing. How were the little troublemakers?" Osamu asks in return, taking off his jacket and hanging it up over the coat rack.

When Osamu talks to his brother, you’re making your way up the stairs, opening the room slowly to make sure your children are sleeping.

The door opens wider and you expected to hear quiet snores.

You don’t.

Turning on the lights, just to see all three beds empty, you feel your anxiety and fear taking over in your brain.

You hope this is just a bad dream, a nightmare.

There is just no way that Atsumu seriously lost your kids.

Walking down the stairs carefully, each step feels heavy and there’s a silent storm raging inside of you.

"Atsumu." You stand in the entryway of the living room again and Osamu frowns in concern at your panicked expression.

"Hmm?" He puts on his jacket as he turns to you.

"Where are the triplets?" You ask with a hint of fear.

"In bed? As they should? I put 'em down myself." Atsumu states like it should be super obvious.

You try to breathe slowly as your panic starts to settle in, while Osamu comes over to you to hold you.

"I just went to check on them. All three beds are empty. I couldn’t find them anywhere upstairs." You’re completely sober now, panic rushing in like a speed train as you tell Osamu about what you discovered upstairs.

"What?!" The twins say synchronized, both voices filled with panic.

"Keisuke? Kaito? Kaori?" Osamu calls out for your children, looking around everywhere, along with you and Atsumu.

Around ten minutes later, the three of you still haven’t found them. And you’re ready to call the police.

You already have your phone in your hand, pacing around and the number dialed ready when you hear Atsumu and Osamu in a very heated argument.

"Ya seriously couldn’t stay up til we're back?! It’s barely 9 pm!" Osamu begins to yell, when he sees your scared expression and your pacing, he stops his loud voice and quickly comes to your side to calm you down.

"Baby? It’ll be okay. 'M sure they’re okay, I already called sum of mah old teammates they are looking for them." He brushes away some of your incoming tears and his heart breaks at the sight. He can murder his brother later, right now all he should focus on is you and your three missing rascals.

Before your panic attack AND heart attack begin to grow even more, the front door opens and the eldest of the triplets walks in, Kaito looking extremely guilty. Two more familiar faces follow, Keisuke looking extremely tired and one very happy Kaori as she holds the hand of none other than Shinsuke Kita.

"I found them outside on my way home. They were hungry and went to the store down the street." Kita explains calmly as he looks at you and the adult twins.

He looks concerned at yours and Osamu’s expressions, lastly looking at the blonde twin who looks as guilty as his nephew.

When your children see you in your distressed state, they rush over to you. You hug them in a tight embrace, crying with relief that your babies are okay and unharmed.

With one last scolding look to Atsumu, who freezes in fear, Kita leaves your house.

You have calmed down and Osamu breathes out a big sigh of relief and talks to his children in a quiet yet firm voice.

"Up to bed, you three. Mum and I will be up in a few minutes. We need to have a few words with yer uncle."

As soon as Osamu and you see the three figures vanish from his sight, he turns to his twin, fury burning in his eyes.

"Yer officially scratched off the babysitter list." Osamu growls at his brother.

"WHAT? Oh come on! It was just one little mistake! I have been watchin' 'em since they were this big and nothing ever happened!" Atsumu forms his hands into a cat-like-size round shape as he tries to justify himself.

"Ya were sleepin' instead of watchin'! They are only 6!" Osamu steps closer to his twin and you begin to fear that your husband is about to commit fratricide.

"Okay let’s all calm down." You managed to calm down a bit and now it’s time to calm the situation down in general.

"Don’t tell me ta calm down! I am about to murder this asshole!" Osamu sees red as he charges for his brother and you move yourself in between them, protecting Atsumu even though he fairly deserves the beat up of his twin brother.

"Samu. They’re okay. That’s all that matters." You stand your ground even though your husband is fairly much taller than you.

Osamu keeps his furious gaze on his twin and you stay in front of him, not standing down.

"Atsumu, go home. We’ll talk about this another time." You tell the blonde and he doesn’t fight you on it, just leaves in a hurry and is soon out of the door.

Osamu paces back and forth, running his fingers through his raven hair repeatedly.

"Samu."

He doesn’t stop pacing but he stopped running his fingers through his hair.

"Osamu." The chef finally stops and looks at you and you’re shocked to see tears in his eyes. Whether it’s out of relief or anger, you don’t know.

Last time he cried was when you were in labor, having a complicated birth due to having a risky pregnancy by carrying the triplets.

"They are okay. No one was harmed, and Kita found them. They are home with us, calm down my love." You press your forehead against his and the former Wing Spiker shudders at the action, holding you tightly against him and he feels himself relaxing at the sound of your voice and your warm embrace.

"But what if he hadn’t found them? What if someone kidnapped them, or they got lost? Or-" He rambles on, tears running down his cheeks that you wipe away with a cautious but tender touch, as he did for you earlier.

"It’s okay, they’re okay. They’re kids, Samu. They will make mistakes in the future and we’re going to help them. To realize those mistakes and be there for them. Let's have a talk with them now and go to bed. It’s been a stressful evening and all of us now need the rest." You smooth out his messy hair, giving him an encouraging smile.

Osamu returns your smile slightly and agrees with you.

A little bit later after a talk with your children, Osamu lays on your shared bed, eyes open as you sleep deeply.

Kaori, Keisuke and Kaito sleep in between the two of you, spread out like star fish. Kaito is physically closest to his father and the young boy with the same dark black hair as his father cuddles closer to his chest, a happy sigh escaping his little mouth with a smile.

Osamu's heart warms at the action of his son, pulling him closer to let out a happy sigh himself and finally falls asleep with his family of five in bed, a smile resting on his face as well.

[ckret2]

This is the first time I see someone saying that Filbrick kicked out Stan as primarily a protective measure. To me, honestly, he sees his children as investing to make money and found the perfect excuse to throw away the son he never wanted on the streets when a convenient excuse appeared. After all, he already had a bag full of clothes when he throwed Stan in the streets.

It's a cartoon episode that had 22 minute to pack in the entirety of Ford & Stan's backstory. He flung a duffel bag at Stan as a way to tell the viewers "he's serious about kicking Stan out" and we didn't see him pack it because that would've cost 30 seconds to animate a boring scene that's unnecessary to the flow of the story, and where else in the episode would that 30 seconds have come from?

The show takes tons of visual & narrative shortcuts to tell its story. We don't question how a digital clock appears on Stan's desk between one shot and the next in Boss Mabel. We don't question where Soos's Burrito Bites went before and after traveling into Stan's mind in Dreamscaperers. We don't question where the remains of Quentin Trembley's ripped pants vanish to in the crate after he tosses them aside. The only reason we question the duffel bag is because there's a way to weave it into the narrative to make a bad character look even worse; but I think it ignores the spirit and intent of the scene to treat that, and that alone, like it's indicative of Filbrick's character rather than indicative of the restraints of the cartoon medium.

I don't think he saw his kids as investments. I think, prior to discovering Ford could be worth a fortune, he saw his kids as his responsibility. It was his duty to get them to adulthood and make them into proper men. What we know about their upbringing is:

When he thought they were wusses, he sent them to boxing to toughen them up.

When he thinks Stan stole a gold chain from the pawn shop, he also berates him for stealing from other people, starting a crab-fighting ring, and "pickpocketing and monkeyshining." He's opposed to Stan committing illegal or dishonest acts even if they're profitable.

And when he kicks Stan out, yeah, he says Ford "was gonna be our ticket out of this dump," but he also says "All you ever do is lie and cheat, and ride on your brother's coattails."

Before Ford is revealed to be a genius, we have no evidence that Filbrick saw them as future moneymakers. And in fact, given how the show emphasizes how hard he is to impress and how newly impressed he is at Ford's genius, it seems like he DIDN'T previously see any such potential in his kids. This was a new development. Before that, we only know of two things he wanted out of his kids:

For them to be tough enough to protect themselves

For them to be honest, law-abiding, and hard-working

His dreams of making money off one of his kids lasted a few days tops—high school science fairs don't exactly last long. If he was hotheaded enough to kick out one of his kids for dashing some pie-in-the-sky dream that was only a few days old, then either they woulda been kicked out long before then, or they woulda almost been kicked out enough times that that would be their dominant impression of their dad that they'd report 40 years later, not "hard to impress." Yeah, he was mad he could've made a fortune and then didn't, but that alone wasn't the main motivation behind disowning Stan. He was taking out years of frustration with Stan all in one moment.

"All you ever do is lie and cheat" "This time you cost our family potential millions!"

You've been a bad kid and a troublemaker for a long time; this time, your behavior has impacted someone other than yourself—it's harmed your brother and your family—and I won't let you do it again.

(And this is pure headcanon/conjecture, so I'm keeping it as an aside—but I think there's something to his relationship with Caryn in all this. We know from how he treats Stan's lying that Filbrick highly values honesty. We know that Caryn is a pathological liar—it's one of the only things we know about her. We know from out-of-show interviews that Stan's "—the girl snuggles up next to you, next thing you know you gotta raise a kid, your life falls apart—" is him repeating something his father said. We know Filbrick sees their current living situation as a "dump," but lacks the financial means to get out of it. We know now the baby WAS intended to be Shermie, which makes a nearly 18 year gap before the Pines decided to have another kid. I think the twins were an accident, that Filbrick married Caryn out of a sense of duty to his sons and their mother, that he does love his family but still feels trapped; I think he hates that Caryn is such a liar, that it would have been a dealbreaker if there weren't kids involved, and that now he doesn't feel like there's much he can do about it because that's his wife; and I think that's a major motivating factor in his demanding honesty out of his sons—because he doesn't want them to turn out like their mother.)

To be clear—I don't think Filbrick is a good father. But in interpreting him as a bad father, I want to interpret him as the bad father he ACTUALLY IS, not make up some new, different bad father and paste it on top of his characterization. Sometimes fandom has a tendency to take a bad parent and stick entirely new bad parent traits on top of them, in a way that makes it seem like some fans think "well, if they're a bad parent, they MUST do THESE THINGS too, because ALL bad parents do that (and therefore, if they're not doing these things, they must not really be a bad parent)."

And at times I think it's important to hold the line. Based on what we know of him, Filbrick is bad enough to be a Bad Father even if he doesn't do XYZ that fandom assumes all bad fathers must do. Filbrick is bad enough to be a Bad Father even if he didn't see his kids as a way to make money.

I think he raised his boys the way he did because he thought that was the best thing for their future happiness—and he was wrong, and his ideas about manhood are outdated and toxic, and he was a bad father.

I think he saw them as his responsibility rather than as profit machines, and that he cared about their well-being—and his decision to express his caring through emotionally distant tough love was harmful and neglectful, and when he got angry he was verbally abusive, and he was a bad father.

I think he was devastated at the loss of potential millions not because his primary motive as a person is greed, but because his primary motive is being a good caretaker for his family, and his family was in a tough financial spot and that kind of money would turn all their lives around—and even though pinning his financial hopes on his son was a recent development, it was still an awful position to put his kid in, and he never should have done it, and he was a bad father.

I think he cared about his family MORE THAN their finances—but he still prioritized their finances too much, and in a moment of anger prioritized their finances more than one of his own sons, and he was a bad father.

I think kicking Stan out wasn't a consequence of thwarted greed, but of years of anger at Stan's delinquency, and that the issue wasn't the lost money but rather the fact that he thinks Stan deliberately harmed his brother for selfish reasons—and it was still a cruel thing to do and the man seriously needed some anger management classes, and he was a bad father.

He's a bad father even if his intentions are good. He's a bad father even if he cared about his sons. And that's why I'm insistent on maintaining his characterization that way—because it's worth remembering that a parent with good, caring intentions can still be bad, and their intentions don't excuse their actions.

[kyumisyumi]

Something something something eldritch Nikto something something something

I've sifted through so many ideas for this because I didn't wanna just pick a random eldritch creature from my box of horrors and slap Nikto's name on it. But also I don't feel like I have enough info about him(ironic, considering I write about him so much) to craft him into a creature. I watched some documentaries on eldritch horrors, dived into Russian cryptids and still drew blanks but here's what I managed

Rating: E for everyone who loves Nikto

Eldritch!Nikto x F!Reader

Word count: 1

Part 2

~Taking requests~

You weren't running from the consequences of your actions, more like briskly walking in the opposite directions. Looking forward all the way because backwards held the sounds of large dogs and angry men. Their boots cracking every twig and foliage along the way, voices interrupting the once peaceful ambiance of the woods. You could hardly tell whether the growling was from the hounds or the men. And really, who wouldn't want to run away from such a thing? Not run; walk. Quickly, very quickly. You were being smart, not cowardly.

No, never that.

You weren't cowardly when you snuck into that guardsman's post. You weren't cowardly when you tried to steal the gold he confiscated from the Miller's wife, the only woman that kept you fed while the streets were your home. You weren't cowardly when you defended yourself once he caught you. And you weren't cowardly when you accidentally bashed his head in with a clay pot. He should've worn a helmet, really. A guard should always have their helmet on! What was he thinking? Now look at you, running for your life and deluding yourself as if it would change the actions of the past.

Running.

You ran your mouth, ran your mind, but no matter how fast you moved, you couldn't outrun hunting dogs. Your fault, really, for trying to do so while wearing the long, ugly skirt you stole from someone's unattended clothesline. You should've maybe stolen the guard's old pants, you knew he had some because he mentioned wanting to give them to his nephew who was in combat training. Instead you dashed out the home the moment you realized he wasn't breathing, panicked by your first time taking a life. What were you thinking?

"I wasn't-" you spat a thick glob of blood out your mouth, it's red color staining the putrid black floor. Tears staining your vision and pain plaguing your mind. "I didn't mean to." You said it over and over again but it was little defense against men who'd lost a comrade because of you. A good man. A good man who stole from widows and bullied the elderly? It's weird how two people can look at the same person but see someone different. But that train of thought was halted by a kick to your stomach. And when one of the men took the final hit, the force of it sending you against the edge of the pit, you finally felt that feeling in your stomach. The one you hid away behind conversations with yourself. Locked away behind a naive expectation that things will either go your way or go away. Your first taste of true regret. Because you got a glimpse of where that attitude has lead you. That attitude that kept you going when your parents had left you. That attitude that kept you alive when your survival was in your own hands at an age where other children were being coddled and sung to. That attitude that protected you in the harsh village slum, now had you staring down into hell. 'The pit'; a giant hole defacing mother earth's perfect form. It's surface covered in black ichor, you couldn't tell whether the walls were moving or you'd been hit so hard your vision was thoroughly fucked. This was considered a punishment worse than death. Jokesters and troublemakers got a stern talking to. Thieves and crooks got jail time. Murders and adulterers got death. But the truly damned got the pit. The punishment didn't match the crime but judging by the hate filled glares of the men surrounding you, they didn't much care.

Or maybe they did care, they cared about you as much as you did yourself, these days.

That was a more comforting thought, maybe? Maybe not. Either way, thinking about it felt a whole lot better than thinking of the weightlessness you felt as you fell. Your vision quickly losing the greens and yellows of a gentle forest to being plunged into darkness. A darkness beyond description. One that surpassed what's seen when you close your eyes for the night. That surpassed the unconsciousness of sleep when dreams escaped you. A darkness that felt like death yet was somehow alive.

The walls were moving, they shifted uncomfortably as they felt the presence of another. Voices that whispered of uncertainty and conflict. Voices that yelled intruder and ones that yelled fodder. But one voice just hummed in curiosity at seeing the source of blood and spit and tears it tasted. He had consumed many of your kind but what little it had of you ignited interest rather than hunger. So it did not eat. Didn't wrap you in its tendrils and rip you apart into easily digestible pieces to be absorbed by its mass. The tendrils held you, confused by their many intentions and wants, before simply bringing you lower into the pit. To the very bottom that no other creature has ever seen. No other creature would ever be allowed near. Far too close to it's more vulnerable organs. But you wouldn't hurt it, would you? Wouldn't hurt them. Not with those blunt nails and teeth, not with those little limbs and severed ties to the natural order. You were weaker than it's weakest points yet you fought against his tendrils like you believed you could win. Struggled and resisted as if you had a fighting chance. 'Hush, little human.' It thought as it strangled you, only enough to render you unconscious. Give it enough time to build a prison home inside itself for you. Then build a form for himself more perceptible to your primitive eyes, he'd tried once before but the human face was so hard to mimic. There was so much anger inside you, more for yourself than for him. And Nikto couldn't understand it. There is only one 'you' inside that tiny, fleshy form. How can one be angry at their own/only self? That would be one of the first things he asked. He felt there was nothing a creature like you could teach him yet he had so much he wanted to ask regardless. Maybe once he had his answers he could finally consume you in peace. Maybe then the voices that called for him to spare you will quiet down. And the ones that screamed for him to bond with you will stop. Your body couldn't handle the things he desires... Could it?

Regardless, he has time. All the time in the world and beyond.

Silly human, getting yourself thrown down here, what were you thinking?

All in all, I didn't want to forget the eldritch and just make a monster.

[storydays]

Hazbin Hotel: Episode 1 p1

Overture

@avatar_lover

(3rd POV)

"Once upon a time, there was a glowing city protected by golden gates known as Heaven. It was ruled by beings of pure light. Angels that worshiped good and shielded all from evil. Lucifer was one of these angels. He was a dreamer with fantastical ideas for all of creation. But he was seen as a troublemaker by the elders of Heaven. 

For they felt his way of thinking was dangerous to the order of their world. So he watched as  the angels began to expand the universe in their ways. From the dust of Earth, they created Adam and Lilith. Equals as the first of mankind, but despite this, Adam demanded control and Lilith refused. 

Drawn in by her fierce independence, Lucifer found her and the two rebellious dreamers fell deeply in love. Together, they wished to share the magic of free will with humanity, offering the fruit of knowledge to Adam’s new bride, Eve, who gladly accepted.

But this gift came with a curse.

For with this single gift, evil finally found its way to Earth. With it, a new realm of darkness and sin, and the order Heaven worked hard to maintain was shattered. As punishment for their reckless act, Heaven cast Lucifer and his love into the dark pit he created, never allowing him to see the good that came from Humanity, only the cruel and the wicked. 

Ashamed, Lucifer lost his will to dream. 

But Lilith thrived, empowering a demon-kind with her voice and her songs. And as the numbers of Hell grew, so did its power. Threatened by this, Heaven made a truly heartless decision, that every year, they would send down an army: an extermination to ensure Hell and its sinners could never rise against them. 

But Lilth’s hope remained. And her dream was passed down to their precious children, the Prince and Princess of Hell.”

A pale hand closed the story book, as a young woman held a key close to her, looking downcast. “Don’t worry Mom, I’ll make you proud.” She whispered, gazing out the window, listening to the screams outside. 

“Charlie?” a voice called startling the young woman. “Augh!” she yelped, as her key turned into a cat, who ran away to hide. Charlie winced before turning to the other woman, “Vaggie! Did you hear all that?” she asked. 

“Uh, yeah. I was standing right there.” smiled the woman, pointing at the door. “Sorry, I get pretty worked up after an extermination happens. The story helps.” Charlie frowned, staring at the book. “I know, don’t worry. I enjoy your theatrics. Are you okay?” Vaggie asked, sitting next to the blonde demoness. “I’m fine, just–ya know thinking about family stuff.” “DId you hear your from your mom yet?” Charlie shook her head sadly. 

“Oof, how long has it been now?” 

“Not that long…only…..seven….years. Off doing something important, I’m sure.” Together the women stood up, to look outside the window. “But this kingdom was something she really cared about; something I care about.” Charlie hugged herself, smiling wistfully. 

“Well, at least you’re not alone.” Vaggie soothed, holding Charlie’s hands.”I just hope that what I’m trying to do here will work.” Charlie admitted. “It will. I have faith in you.” the white haired woman smiled, cupping Charlie’s cheek. 

“All right, come on. Alastor says he’s got something he wants to show us.” Vaggie walked out of the room, Charlie going to follow her, before hearing the church bell ring outside. She turned to look out at the clock as it rang, signaling the end of the extermination. Charlie sighed before heading downstairs. 

*Downstairs*

“Well, hello there, you wayward sinner!” A cheery voice, on the television, called out to a demon currently stabbing another on the street, making the two look around confusedly. “Do you like blood, violence and depravity of a sexual nature? Of course you do, that’s why you’re in Hell! But what would you say if there was a place that had none of that?” questioned the voice as more sinners popped up, varying emotions from annoyance to confusion. The camera then zoomed to reveal the hotel.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! A misguided path to redemption!” the camera then pushed into Charlie’s personal space as she was mid conversation, before she noticed the camera and she smiled and waved nervously. A spider demon appeared behind her, using all four of his hands to give the demoness bunny ears behind her head and on the side. “Founded 5 days ago by Lucifer’s delusional daughter, Charlotte Morningstar! Come place your faith in her inexperienced hands as she tries to work through her daddy issues by fixing you!” 

The television showed a picture of Lucifer facing away from Charile as she hugged herself, tears in her eyes. Then it showed Charlie attempting to convince sinners to join. 

“Here we offer fun things! Such as somewhat functional staff.” The camera showed a grumpy cat demon who was clearly drunk as he face planted into the bar. A little cyclops woman scurried around him, chasing a bug with a giant needle in her arm, with a maniacal grin on her face, as she attempted to stab the bug.

“24 hour pest control! Custom rooms, and just look at this tacky parlor!” The camera panned out to show a piece of wood falling near the spider demon from earlier who was lounging on a couch, clearly bored as he examined his finger nails.  “Enjoy riveting conversation with our singular resident.”

The spider sent the camera a middle finger, making an effect of the word Wow appear on screen, changing to show a crudely drawing of the hotel with different notes and smiley faces with a large toothy grin. “Wow! All this and more at the Hazbin Hotel. Your last desperate attempt at salvation starts here!” On the screen, appeared: “Call now or don’t! I don’t care! We still don’t have a working phone!” 

The TV shut off as the audience in the room sat around, emotions varying from anger, shock, and disbelief. “So, what’d ya think?”asked a grinning deer demon, dressed head to toe in red and black. 

“I’m sorry, what the FUCK was that?” scowled Vaggie, arms crossed. “Uh, yeah, one note. Alastor…” Charlie started, ignoring how the demon’s smile tightened. “I mean, first off, thank you so much for making this, seriously, amazing, but um..” Charlie played with her fingers as she tried to explain her thoughts, “The tone was maybe a bit..off?” Alastor tilted his head as she continued. 

“We want people to WANT to come here. This makes it look–um..” “Bad. The word you’re looking for is bad.” Vaggie snarled, crossing her arms. 

“Funny, I was going for hilarious!” Alastor laughed. “It didn’t explain anything about how we’re trying to save demons, which is the whole fucking point!” 

“Vaggie is right, Alastor. The commercial was to let sinners know we are trying to save them.” called a smooth voice from another armchair. The male was sitting on the chair, his legs over the arm of the chair, and the cat from earlier purring in his arms, as he stroked her back. This was the Prince of Hell, Heir to the Throne, and Charlie’s big brother, (Y/N).

“Well, my dear (Y/N), I haven’t been active in Hell for some time, and everyone remembers me from my radio show. The proper way to express oneself!” Alastor turned to the TV with a clear disdain written over his ever grinning face.

“But you insisted on this noisy picture box advertisement. So I had a little fun with it.” “Oh fun, you had a little fun?” Vaggie snapped, before standing. “Well, this is not what we want to represent us. When you showed up here, a week ago, you told us you would help run this hotel. Instead, you’re mocking us. Nobody’s going to want to come to a place that a powerful Overlord like you thinks is a waste of time.” Vaggie hissed before the 4 noticed a red hand waving in the air. 

“What?” snapped Vaggie as (Y/N) started to walk towards the bar. 

“If’n you’re filimin’ a commercial, can I suggest you take advantage of the talented celebrity you have right here?” The spider demon from earlier, sat up lazily, grabbing the bottle of alcohol with him, and winked at the people, gesturing to himself. 

“Angel, you’re a porn star.” Vaggie deadpanned.

“A famous porn star.” Corrected Angel, as (Y/N) came back and sat next to the spider, with a strawberry Daiquiri in his hand. 

“I’ll have the horniest sinners knockin’ down these walls to get in.” The white furred spider grinned smugly, before swinging his legs over (Y/N)’s lap, clearly comfortable. “We are not shooting a porn as a commerical.” Vaggie said firmly. 

“Why not? Sex sells, don’t it?” Angel winked. “I swear, if you film me going at it with Sexy Princey or Mr FancyTalk Creep Voice here, you’d be rollin’ in participants to stay at this tacky hotel.”. Alastor laughed loudly before deadpanning. “Haha! Never going to happen.”

The bespectacled prince cleared his throat nervously, cheeks a slight red as he tried to compose himself. “A-Angel, we appreciate you wanting to use your ‘special skills’ to, um, attract folks to the hotel. But I–WE, meant to say WE don’t want to exploit you in that way.” 

(Y/N) smiled at the spider demon who grinned, leaning into the prince’s space, close to his ear, and purred, “But what if I want you to exploit me……..Daddy?” “HAHA! OKAY!”

(Y/N) yelped, before using his wings to quickly fly up and over by the bar, startling Angel who then smirked knowingly at the demon. 

Turning towards the girls, Angel continued to talk, “This body was made to be exploited, baby. I’ve got the arms, I got the stamina, I got the legs, I got the lung capacity. Oh, oh! I have the legs, the gag reflex, the holes, the chest fluff everyone thinks are tits..”  Charlie laughed uncomfortably as Angel continued talking.

(Y/N)’s phone started ringing, making the prince roll his eyes and walk away, answering his phone. “I’ll be right back.” 

He turned the corner, and grinned deviously as he answered the phone, “What up, bitch!”

*Back with the others*

“Hey, I have a question. If freaky face over there is so powerful, then why can’t he just make people stay here?” Angel asked suddenly, pointing at Alastor.

“Oh trust me, I can.” Alastor grinned darkly, briefly showing his horns.

“Why do you think I’m here?” A gruff voice called from the bar, making everyone turn to the bar, towards the grumpy cat from earlier. 

“You think I’d be cleaning bottles and listen to you fucks’ bitch and moan, if he wasn’t forcing me.” The bartender hissed as the little cyclops appeared next to him, grinning. 

“I like being forced.” She giggled. 

“Keep that to yourself, Niff.” grimaced the cat demon. 

“What, you don’t love being here with me, Whiskers?” Angel mocked, making a kissy face. 

“Call me whiskers again, and I’ll jam that bottle down your throat.” the cat threatened.

“Kinky! C’mon, keep talking dirty.” grinned Angel, narrowing his eyes at the cat.

“Angel, let Husk do his job. And no, we can’t force people to stay here; they need to choose to.” Vaggie stated. 

“I’m choosing to be here, and I think it’s all stupid. We’re in Hell, toots.” Angel shrugged, “That’s kind of the end of the line, ain’t it?”

“Well, maybe it doesn’t have to be.” Charlie smiled. “Just because no one’s ever made it out, doesn’t mean it’s not possible.”

Angel placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder as he leaned down to her height. “Hey, whatever means I can keep crashing here rent free.” The women shot him a deadpanned look, and he scowled. “Crack is expensive.”

(Y/N) quickly came and grabbed Charlie by the arm, grinning excitedly. “Char, come with me!” Charlie yelped as her brother pulled her around the corner. 

“Woah, (Y/N), what’s going on?”

“So the leader of the Angel Army wants to meet…and I managed to convince Dad to let me send you to talk to them instead.”

Charlie tilted her head. “Why me? You usually take care of stuff like that.”

“Because, Char, you are the princess of Hell,and I think you’re old enough to start partaking in stuff like this. And.. you can use this as an opportunity to try to convince Heaven to give your Hotel a chance. “ (Y/N) prompted. 

“Ooh! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Charlie hugged her brother before rushing to tell Vaggie. (Y/N) going to lean on the couch, as Vaggie questioned Charlie. “But the extermination just happened. What could they want this soon after?” 

Charlie started singing and twirled Vaggie who replied dizzily, “Okay but just don’t sing to them.”

“That bitch is half way down the street.” (Y/N) and Angel laughed, with the others looking out the door, watching the princess sing. 

“Is she–?” Vaggie asked, worriedly.

“Oh, she’s dancin’.” Angel tossed his head back, drinking the bottle in his hands, ignoring Vaggie’s groan.

[redrobinsrobbingrobin]

Here is the aforementioned essay! I said I’d get it done (and my notes were pretty detailed anyway)

Dick's robin is representative of the distinction of youth culture coming to light as more kids distanced themselves from the conservative views and began questioning authority figures, during the 40s, when they questioned the actual effects and causes of war, questioned the authority behind it and the reason for not intervening earlier. Batman as a character was also introduced in this period, and is a call for social change. He is a billionaire who wants to help the lower class. He empathises with the people, he sympathises with the child that lost his parents in front of him, and death is a driving factor in both their lives. To me, this seems like a homage to the families who lot their children, their fathers, their brothers, to the war, and wanted to do and be better, to live their memory and be able to push through and help the world. Dick also puts McCarthyism into question, as he doesn't exactly obey Batman all the time, despite needing to. He questions Batman, he questions Bruce, he is rebellious and harsh, and angry, and maybe that's how he would have turned out, even without Bruce giving him a cape and weapons.he represents the beginnings of change, the start of hope after a war, the ability to raise yourself and your family above that.

Jason's post crisis character when referring to youth of the time is much like Tim's and Dick's. This was a period after wartime economy, where the majority of the population were people who couldn't fight in the war, where communism was a genuine fear, and his whole story line of 'crime alley, poor orphan, adopted by a billionaire,' pulls both capitalism and communism into question- why is there a billionaire when the people are suffering, and capitalism CAN help the few lucky enough to receive that help. In terms of youth attitudes, he came from a time of youth rebellion, evident in his later comics, where he pulled away from Batman which lead to his eventual death. He took more risks, he had an edge over Dick I terms of his street brawler style instead of Dick's grace in acrobatics. The older generations saw this rebellion of youth as off putting, and often refused to hire younger generations due to their more leftist views, and a perceived notion of them being radical and troublemakers. This stigma till exists today and is still evident in later Robin runs.

Tim’s characterisation as a representation if the youth is the most prominent to a modern audience, though, because he is representative of teens in the 90s/very early 2000s and they were attempting to get more teens into comics without it being seen as nerdy, however, this push for more youth diversity in comics prompted a huge shift in youth culture, where comics were now being seen as old people stuff and ‘nerd culture’ up until televised media (TV/movies) started adapting it to exclusively appeal to nerd audiences who didn’t want to watch new media, as it might mean letting go of old media. Televised adaptations also brought in new fans who could understand storylines visually and in a more efficient way than reading several decades worth of back reading comics could. Tim was a skateboarder and a photographer, and these pictures and excessive stalking of Batman and Robin could almost be seen as a teenage girl in the 90s having posters of her celebrity crush all over the walls. He also slept A LOT, which might be the writers trying to represent the youth as lazy in order to keep older readers and avoid being seen as 'pandering' to the youth.

Coincidentally, Steph was also introduced as a Robin during this period of the early 2000s which meant that DC were trying to ensure that women were being represented more in traditionally male media in order for the women’s equality movements to also be appealed to. She, as a character, does not fit into any stereotypical female character archetype (nosy reporter, damsel on distress, femme fatale) and is so evidently an individual of her own, without simply being a part of someone else’s character, like Tim’s. This shift in views towards women in comics was probably what stopped more comics from ‘fridging’ their female characters in order to elevate a male character’s story, even though Steph and Barbara were both pretty badly portrayed at the end of their individual runs (Killing Joke and No Man's Land, and Steph's baby). Her introduction as a Robin, 'the Girl Wonder' was so that Batman comics would appeal to more women, specifically, women who were actively less conservative and more likely to get into traditionally male medias, as many women in the 2000s were stepping out of conservative roles, and more were engaging in these 'nerdy' interests.

Damian’s introduction in a post 9/11 world, where the vilification of the LoA had reached a high and probably contributed to the extreme whitewashing of his character, sometimes seen in the DCAU, or even a lot in comics. He seems to feel ostracised by the rest of the family, because of his upbringing, the same way many Arabs and other ethnic minorities felt at this time. Damian being white passing also meant that he perhaps reflected the Arab youth in America who were not so outwardly ostracised by their peers due to the racial and religious tensions in the country. He was also introduced in or around 2006 (I can’t remember the exact date) where the youth were, again, largely viewed as rebellious or hooligans, which is NOT reflected in his character, not that I can think of any examples.

Anyway. That’s it for the essay, let me know if I missed something, or got something wrong, and thank you for reading till the end!

[partywithponies]

Are you open to sharing your downloaded Keeley content at all? :) <3

Okay, let me give it a go making a comprehensive list linking all the Keeley stuff I've got! I'll put it under a cut because this is going to get long. Let me know if anything has the wrong link or anything.

Will make this the pinned post of my Keeley Hawes sideblog @misskittybutler and update it if and when I acquire any more stuff. (CBBC's Troublemakers can't hide from me forever.)

TV shows she's a main/regular in:

Ambassadors

Ashes to Ashes

Bodyguard

Cold Lazarus

Crossfire

Diana Dors: The Blonde Bombshell

Finding Alice

Fungus The Bogeyman (2015)

Honour

Identity

It's A Sin

Karaoke

Line of Duty

Mrs Wilson

Murdoch Mysteries (the TV movies)

Mutual Friends

Orphan Black: Echoes

Our Mutual Friend

Spooks

Stonehouse

Summer of Rockets

The Beggar Bride

The Best Man

The Casual Vacancy (I'm not happy about having JKR related content in my google drive either. but Keeley gets her boobs out and I am weak)

The Durrells

The Hollow Crown: The Wars of the Roses

The Midwich Cuckoos

The Missing (season 2)

The Moonstone

The Tunnel

The Vicar of Dibley (very much stretching the definition of "main/regular" here, she's literally in two episodes, but you know)

Tipping The Velvet

Traitors

Upstairs Downstairs (2010)

Wives and Daughters

Year of the Rabbit

Movies and films:

A is for Acid

Adventurer: Curse of the Midas Box

After Thomas

Chaos and Cadavers

Complicity

(Complicity DVD special features)

Death at a Funeral (2007)

(Death at a Funeral DVD special features)

Flashbacks of a Fool

High-Rise

(High Rise DVD special features)

Hotel!

Me and Mrs Jones

Misbehaviour

(Misbehaviour DVD special features)

Othello (2001)

Rebecca

Scoop

The Avengers (1998) (this movie's a blast when you don't have a little bitch in your ear telling you it's one of the worst movies ever made)

The Bank Job

(The Bank Job DVD special features)

The Cater Street Hangman

The Lady Vanishes (2013)

The Last September

(The Last September DVD special features)

To Olivia

(To Olivia DVD special features)

Tristram Shandy/A Cock and Bull Story

Under The Greenwood Tree

Single episodes of stuff that she appeared in:

Agatha Christie's Marple

Canterbury Tales

Doctor Who

Forever Green

Heartbeat

Inside No. 9

Murder in Mind

Pie in the Sky (part 1) (part 2)

Shakespeare ReTold

Tricky Business

Non-fiction stuff she appeared in as herself:

CBeebies Bedtime Story

River Cottage: Three Go Mad

Would I Lie To You?

What The Durrells Did Next (documentary)

The Story of the Costume Drama

I didn't know what other category to put this in:

Ballet Shoes & More: A BBC Radio 4 Children’s Drama Collection

And I think that's everything currently!!

[carnatus89]

DnB December prompts @alterdnbweek

Day 22: Royalty AU, Loyal knight

This one is probably my favourite and the last one I made. Alongside drawings :D

Most knew him as the Golden Knight. It started with his looks, radiant smile, sun-kissed skin and golden curly locks that looked like molten gold. He has heard it all, from whispered adoration to outright shouting it in his face as he passed. He doesn’t really care, he never cared about his looks in the first place, he just was lucky in that regard.

The title really stuck when his name came with the position of his job. As the personal guard of the prince of the Antarctic Empire, next on the line to become the king, he faced difficulties in order to protect the young prince. He was pitied, no one wanted to deal with the troublemaker that was the pink-haired man, no one could try to reign his thirst for adventure and escapades. He was the Golden Knight, because he was the only one who could keep up with the prince and keep him safe.

It makes him laugh.

What Golden Boy? A street rat who was picked from the lowest a human could get. Who had to fight tooth and nail for a bite of food, in order to survive to fight the next day. One who had the brand of his previous master branded on his back, a smiley face that he adopted as his own mark when he tore out that bastard's neck with his own teeth. Ah, what a good, sweet young man, who no one suspects that each scar on his body was erased with the most obscure and taboo magic known in the realms. If they knew, his head would be on a pike, his body paraded and his name dragged to the mud. He’s not some perfect little soldier, he’s a murderer, previously a slave, a necromancer. He’s nothing but the monster parents warn their children at night.

And the prince? The one people think of as spoiled rotten, all his deeds forgotten, rude and condescending? What a joke.

That man is the only one who deserves his loyalty, his sword and shield, his protection. Even if he doesn’t need it.

That prince is the only one he can’t defeat.

The future king is a powerful man, both in political power and raw strength. He doesn’t talk much, less to other royals and nobles. Of course those pompous people think of him as rude when he just leaves a conversation when he loses interest. He works on his physical power, training day and night, just to be the best warrior there is. The prince told him one day that he wishes to be able to just run and fight for his survival, to fight and fight until his final breath. To be able to bathe in the glory and blood of his enemies, to embrace the violence that courses through his veins. To lose himself in the blood.

He laughed that time. To think he was serving a lunatic.

But he respected his strength, his words weren’t empty, he never made a proclamation or a promise that he knew he couldn’t comply with. In his world, promises were everything, so knowing this man would always say his truth, even when it isn’t pretty, was refreshing.

He knew that when he asked to join him as his personal guard after who knows how many times they encountered each other and fought, he knew he could say no. He wasn’t sacked, he didn’t owe him anything, he could walk away a free man and no one would hunt him down for it. But he said yes.

That was his downfall.

Despite his reputation, the young prince was handsome, his face chiseled and sharp, his long pink hair like the fine silk he wears to balls, and his muscled body built from rigorous training. His warm voice, like a campfire on a cold winter. His blood red eyes which electrify him everytime he looks at him. The way his body moves in a display of power each time they fought, his sword an extension of his arm, much like Dream’s sword was his own. Maybe that was also part of the reason he said yes, even if he didn’t know it at the time.

He thought he would suffer. The prince wouldn’t hurt him physically, that he promised, but he knew how people can twist his words, to omit their intentions. And he did suffer, though now he knows it wasn’t the prince’s intention. The way his heart ached like it was a festering wound was new to him, but he had survived worse. He knew his rank, his station. He could never be anything more than the Golden Knight to the prince.

But then, their fights changed. They never stopped fighting, they both enjoyed it, so even though they weren’t runaway prince and thief anymore, they still fought. They changed locations, clothes and titles, but they fought all the same. It stayed the same, until one day the prince just, stopped.

He sat on the ground, never caring about his prince image, and gestured for Dream to sit next to him. He did, and they talked. It felt different this time though, when they talked in hushed tones, usually to trash talk some noble, it was all jokes and jabs, but they maintained their ranks. There was distance on their speech, on their body language. This time, the prince leaned on his space, his hair touching his face. He looked tired, but with a glint in his eyes that showed determination, usually when he was braving a fierce opponent.

He always had that glint when he looked at him. So he didn’t look surprised. It did surprise him the sudden warmth in his lips.

He regrets punching him. In his defense, he was surprised.

In public, they stayed with the same formality and distance as before. They would refer each other as prince and knight, they would perform the duties expected of them, and they would stay together, just out of reach.

The prince’s escapades became their dates, not only for the prince to indulge in his most violent ways. Instead of the man searching for trouble to punch or slice, they would go on the cover on the night to some no name place to enjoy themself. It was fun, it was everything Dream could imagine a relationship would be like and more. The passion, the warmth, everything he lacked in his previous life he had now with the only man he could ever think to give his freedom for.

So he didn’t trust it.

He knew royals, he knew how fickle their interest may be. How could the prince give all his power and status for a lowly life like him? No one but the prince knew of his background, he held all the power in his life now. He gave it willingly, but he was still afraid of what he would do when he became bored, when this development would fade away. He knew he would keep his rank, but he didn’t think his heart would recover when this was all over.

And then, the prince gave him a rose.

It was a glass rose, a really fragile thing that he put in his hair. The coloured glass played with the light, making it shine like it was light itself. It was beautiful.

“I wanted something to match your eyes. I’ll keep looking.”

He kept a hidden room in his room for all the next gifts he got. From glass statues to emeralds, to rubies, to gold, he never saw as many precious gems and valuable objects in his life. And it was all his. Only the people who are close to the prince know that he shows his love through gifts. All his family own an emerald earpiece which signals to all that they belong to one another. Both king and queen have golden collars made by the prince. Both his younger brothers have tiny bracelets of jewels that the future king arranged. His personal horse has a braid made with red silk and a lock of his own pink hair.

The ring was a simple but beautiful thing, small enough to hide under his armour, to attach to rope and wear on his neck, to slide on his finger whenever he wanted. The gold shines as if made of sunlight, the surface smooth when he passes his finger. It has just one jewel, the most shiny emerald he has ever seen before. When he turns it around in his hand and looks in the mirror, he can see the same shade of green in his own eyes. It’s like his own eyes where the jewel, staring at him from this artifact that the prince, with a satisfied smile, gave him.

“Finally found the one.”

It was real. That’s why he had to do it.

The prince has a name, but he doesn’t like it. It’s a name for a prince, a future king, a monarch. He didn’t like it, he wanted another name, something that was his. Dream understood, ‘Dream’ wasn’t the name his mother gave him, it was the name he earned on the streets. It was actually ‘Dreamon’, he just fashioned it, it was his to modify after all. So the prince chose a name, one that screamed his enemies every time he showed up.

The Blade never dies.

That’s why he had to do it.

Blade was more than his prince. His loyalty was more than simple duty, it was an act of love. He loved him, and he indulged in his aspirations to fight, even if he knew that it would be his downfall in the end, the thing that would ruin them both. He loved him as fiercely as Blade loved to fight, so he would follow. Always. Maybe this makes him selfish, maybe he doesn’t have the right to choose.

The Blade never dies. So this time, Dream would make sure to make it so.

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

He doesn’t ask for many things. Mostly because he knows the things he really wants can’t be granted. He doesn’t hate his parents because of it, he understands. But he hates it nonetheless.

They can’t give him permission to fight everything he wants in sight, they are royals. What would the other nobles think? What would the populace think? He doesn’t care, but his family does. And above all else, he loves his family. He can’t go because he loves them, so he would just sneak when he can. Most think it is just to loiter around, which is fine by him. He’s fine with his actual reason to stay hidden, he doesn’t care what others think, he’s his own person. As long as they despise him for it, not his family, it is fine by him.

His escapes were a way out, to breathe, to stretch, to be. It was an act of desperation, so he didn't really have a plan. Just a cloak with a hood big enough to cover his hair, the planiest clothes he owned and his trusted sword with bandages wrapped around the hilt to hide the eye-catching decorations, though it wasn't a really good job to hide it. They couldn't make him out as the prince, but as some eager noble, with a fat purse and even fatter ramson.

That’s how he met him. A smiley mask, a black cloak and a sword aiming for his guts.

He was dangerous, he was quick and he was beautiful. He was everything Blade asked for. He was his match, he didn’t back down, he fought like that was all he had done in his life, and Blade became addicted to it. He wanted more, the violence that rose with him everytime he woke up screamed for the man, and he was always willing to indulge in his primal instincts.

He followed every trace he left behind when in the castle, and then followed him physically on the streets. Everytime he escaped the castle, he came to the streets to search for him, and fight him. The man always escaped, and Blade always ended wanting for more. He didn’t care who that man was, he wanted him. To fight, to see and touch. It became like an addiction that threatened to kill him. He embraced it, he loved the taste of the poison.

One night they fought and talked between each clash of their blades, and the man realized he just wanted to fight, not get revenge. So they met often after, to fight, laugh and fight some more. It became their thing, and they became friends in turn. So much that Blade didn’t crave to fight him anymore, he had it already. He wanted to see his face, to laugh at him, with him. He wanted to pet his golden hair, wanted to grab him by his tiny waist. He wanted to run his hands over his perfect body, kiss the man until both could forget the whole world. He wanted him at his side. He wanted so many things.

And this time he could ask for it.

He was elated when Dream said yes. He was scared that he would leave him, that Blade would scare him away. He promised that he will always be protected and cared for. That his rank and job would always be his as long as Blade was there. That he would have the freedom to walk away if he chose, and no one would hurt him. Dream accepted, so now it was time to ask his father.

He doesn’t ask for much, so when he asked for Dream to be his personal guard, he said yes almost immediately.

The Golden Knight and the Troublemaker Prince. Sounds like a cheesy novel. But that was his actual life. He had now a partner in crime, one who knew of his secrets and would indulge him. They escaped the palace to fight other bandits, slavers, whatever. The thrill of the fight was different now with someone on his side. It didn’t subside, but it now included Dream. They were now a pair, and the moment Blade had a taste of him, he couldn't live without it anymore. His addiction became critical, and when Dream reciprocated his feelings, he felt like he was a new man.

He needed him at his side, his golden hair and green eyes were everything he would dream. He went mad looking for something that could even match that color. The gold band needed to be exactly as warm and shiny as his hair. The gem was an expensive gem, but he didn’t bat an eye at the price when the jewel stared back at him. ‘The eye of Ender’ the supplier said was its name. It was perfect.

He knew Dream didn’t trust his devotion, he thought of himself less than his title. That’s why he gave him the ring. They couldn’t marry, not without repercussions, but it was a promise. No matter what, they would always be together.

He didn’t think he would break that promise.

He never thought what it would be like to die. ‘Blade never dies’ they say. But he was mortal, and a sword piercing his chest was probably a bit too much, even for him. He became reckless, and paid the price. He was mostly fine with the outcome, he kinda searched for it in the first place since his first escapades, trying to escape the boring mundane life of the prince. But then he heard the cry of Dream, and knew that he made a mistake.

He would be leaving Dream behind, and that wouldn’t do. Blade needed him, and the man needed him back. He couldn’t leave like this. It wasn’t worth the thrill of violence.

He felt his hands on his face. Usually they were cold, but now it was the only warmth he felt, the only place he was trying to cling to life. His eyes could see his blurry figure, the only two things he could disting was his molten gold hair and his magical green eyes. He was crying, and Blade hated himself for being the reason for it.

He felt a tug on his chest, trying to pull him down. But Dream held on.

And held on.

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

His hands were shaking. They were sticky with blood and tears, a mix of both Blade’s and his. His heart was racing, like a caged bird on a box. He cradled his lover’s head in his hands, bringing him onto his lap and whispering comforts. For him or himself, he didn’t know.

He didn’t know if it would work, but he had to try. He loved him, he couldn’t let him leave, for he was a selfish man.

He was no Golden Knight.

He remembers the spell that his mother teached him before she disappeared. The magic was forbidden because of its secondary effects, she said that it made the life around it to die, made souls crumble to ash and blood, and made the humans affected by it a husk of their former self. That's what the people said, his mother showed him otherwise.

“Flesh would reattach itself, wounds opening on another body. Disease would cure itself while another rots from the inside. But for the soul to remain, it needs another as an example. To attach someone's souls to your own, you must love them very much.”

He loves him. He doesn't care what that means. He loves him.

So he had to do it. He had to use his power, even if he thought he would never have to use it again. Even if he condemns his soul for all eternity.

He feels his heart spasms for a second, bringing his lover closer to his chest while the magic works its course. The blood circle shines and he feels an energy on the center of his body festering and emerging like a living thing, trying to rip through him like he’s but a cocoon. Even with his eyes closed, he can see through his eyelids light, green and red pulsating and combining until a mix of both colors remain, and then fade away. His chest hurts, his teeth hurts, his arms hurt. He can taste blood on his tongue. But he doesn't let go.

Until a gasp sounds, and Blade rises.

Dream helps him to sit down. The prince coughs blood and some black liquid that builds on his throat and eyes, his tears mixed with the inky substance. He cleans it gently with his hands, though they're smeared with blood, so he just makes a bigger mess. Both of them are a mess of blood and black.

But they're alive. It worked.

“Blade.” He can't help his soft tone, to see his lover alive when he saw the light leave his eyes, when he saw him take his last breath. When he stops coughing he hugs him, bringing his head on his shoulder, to be able to feel his rising chest and his warmth. To feel him alive again. He can't help the tears on his eyes.

His lover hugs him back, kissing his neck, his breath raggedy. His arms circle his waist, locked into place and preventing any of them from getting away. He doesn't mind, even if it hurts a little. They're here, they're both alive. They're both fine.

But that was a lie.

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

“I had to do it.”

Once they both catched their breath, they make a list of priorities. First, they needed a safe place to stay for the night, one where reinforcements from the bandits that killed Blade wouldn't search. They were in the forest, on their former base, and when the prince fell, Dream ignored the ones who escaped in favor of tending to his lover. So they traveled at a quick pace, finding a hunter’s house that was left since it wasn't the season right now. They didn't care about breaking the door to get inside, searching for salves and bandages, because, well. They both were still bleeding.

That was the second, patch themselves up. Dream worked quickly, bandaging his wounds, which were pretty light. He stole a quick look to Blade and saw that he was doing the same, although he was fumbling with the bandages, coming dirty with black blood. Once he finished with his own wounds he made his way to his prince’s side to attend him. And, well.

Necromancy as a practice was forbidden because of misconceptions, but it was true that a person that dies, doesn't come back the same. His blood was red when the light hit it just right, but it was such a deep color it may as well be darkness itself. Blade already had pretty pale skin, but now it was almost sickly, just a tint of color enough to not mistake as a walking corpse. His crimson eyes were now like a red moon, its light colouring even the white with red blood, a ring of black the only thing that remains of his pupil. He was otherworldly, another, and so bewitchingly beautiful. Like the first time he saw him on that fateful night.

He picked the fresh bandages and lifted his lover's shirt to bandage the wound that killed him.

It was bleeding sluggishly, the wound almost closed on its own. An angry red marked the fair skin, ramifications like a spiderweb reaching across his entire chest like a brand. It was cold at the touch, a contrast with the warm skin underneath. He cleaned as well as he could the wound and wrapped it up. And once he finished, he looked at his silent prince.

He was looking above him, not quite the ceiling. His eyes looked glassy, like he was looking at nothing, but at the same time his eyes were moving like he was trying to catch something fast. Like they weren't alone.

“Blade? Love?” He takes his hand, and the prince focuses on him. He looks… lost, confused, but he can see the happiness in his eyes when he looks at him. He's sure his love can see the same in his eyes.

“Dream.” He takes his face in his hand, stroking his cheek lovingly. The guard leans on the touch and hums, caressing his hand with his thumb. Now that all the earlier ordeal is over, they can breathe.

And reality comes down.

“I had to do it.”

Blade looks at him. He feels the warmth in his hands, the intensity in his stare, the rise in his chest. He knows that it was worth it, even if both of them are now damned for it. It's better than the alternative, better than Blade hating him.

“You were dead. I had to do it.”

“I know.”

“Now we are… one. Our soul is one, if I die you die with me. “

“I know.” Blade strokes his cheek, and smiles. Like they were talking about what they're going to do the next escapade. It was comforting, even if Dream didn't understand it.

“Aren't you… mad?”

“I was dead, you brought me back.”

“At the cost of your life.”

Blade laughs. “That sounds like a contradiction.”

Dream can't help his own laugh, but still, he feels a confused rage inside him.

“You know what I mean. You can't be a prince like this. Not anymore, you're a zombie now. They’ll want you dead, both of us.”

His mother disappeared when he was young. She was a necromancer, all his family were once upon a time. When people found out, she casted him aside in hopes of him surviving on his own, without a witch as a mother. Anything was better than that. It's funny, he now walks the same path as his mother, despite everything she did to prevent it. And he has dragged his love with him.

“I know. Thank you.”

He doesn't expect the words that come out of the ex-prince’s mouth, even less his lips on his own. He tastes blood, but he eagerly reciprocates, feeling his chest light as a feather. His hands cup his lover’s face to savour the moment, before they both need to part ways. He can feel the rough hands of the hair-pinked man on his hair, petting him.

“This is what we were both looking for.”

“What do you mean?” Dream can't really think right now, his mind too preoccupied in the relief of Blade not being disgusted by him. He knows of his magic, but he never used it against another person in his presence, much less against him. He still loves him, despite it.

“A way out.” His lover grins, his smile blinding. He can't help but match it with his own, prompting him to continue. “We are now wanted men. You're no longer a knight and I’m no longer a prince. We're just us. Together.”

“But… What about your family?”

“Even if they think of me dead, I know they still love me. And I still love them, they will be alright.”

“Are you sure?”

Blade puts his hands on his waist and brings him close, hugging him to his chest. He reciprocates, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.

“We are free now. Even if we're hunted and damned, we are free.”

Dream knew what it was like to fight to survive another day. So this development wasn't really something foreign to him, it was actually what he expected to happen someday, no matter what his prince promised him, how hopeful the situation was. The trill came because now, he had a partner with him. No longer loyal knight and future king.

Just Dream and Blade.

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

Notes that didn't fit in the story one way or another:

All his family knew that Blade was basically courting his knight, they were fine with that. If he wasn’t the oldest and the future king, they would be demanding a wedding right this instant, and their brothers would be fighting to the death to be chosen as best man. Is bittersweet, because now they think Dream was a traitor all along, deceiving the prince just to kill him and experiment on him.

When Blade started going out he was basically bullshiting his way out. He had a hood with his mouth covered up and thought that was all that was needed. He was pretty surprised when Dream recognized him on sight as at least a noble, and then the prince. Dream is kinda glad he found him before anyone else with more malice saw him. After that Dream made him a boar mask so people ignore all the rest of his features since the mask is the most alluring part, and made him cover his hair better.

Dream was basically running around stealing whatever he needed on the day, everyday. He gets uncomfortable having possessions since those are things that can be taken away. That includes people, since when he was a slave he had an adoptive older brother that got taken away later when he was sold. He has contacts, mostly people who can supply him with illegal things or weapons, but he didn’t really try to keep bonds until Blade, and that only because basically Blade forced him to.

The blood circle for resurrecting Blade is basically a ‘XD’ face.

Blade was born with the curse of The Blood, which made him want to fight constantly. This is now increased through the resurrection since he hears The Voices of Beyond now.

Dream and Blade are on the run, killing whoever finds them to keep the violence of Blade at bay and to stop people from talking about them. They’re also insanely cuddly since they can basically make out as much as they want. Meanwhile Blade’s family want Blade back, his body actually, since they think he’s basically a zombie. They want to bury him as a prince.

I never expected to make a Technoblade so down bad but it was really fun. Maybe I can properly write it as a short fanfic on ao3? Time will tell.

[rainybyday]

Pt 1

Jazz was the original troublemaker in her family before Danny. 

Well, troublemaker is kind of a stretch, but if you were to ask any other adult that wasn’t her parents then they would have told you otherwise. 

I mean, who would want to befriend the toddler who sprouts biosciences facts to an agitated classmate who just wanted her to move from the Lego box? How else would you explain how a police officer found a child with red hair in the middle of the night saying that she wanted to follow the pretty voice in the woods? What would you say when the pretty dolled up girl talks about what her brother is going to look like when nobody, not even her mother, knew that she was pregent?

No one had an answer to that, and they all tried to stay away from the weird pretty girl with amber fire hair and deep teal blue eyes with a mind that was too smart for her own good. 

Most of the adults chalked it up to be the parent's fault for her ‘quirks’ while the children wanted to stay away from the freak who didn’t understand that they were more afraid of her then the burned victorine women walking through the streets. 

For a while, even with the birth of the boy the girl predicted to be true, was known as the witch of her family. The weirdo, the cursed child and freak of nature. 

But then her brother started to grow from being a toddler into a child and the girl was seen less in the streets and more at home. She drove her attention to her brother and her brother alone which helped the town to relax a bit when they no longer saw a wisp of red hair at the corner of their eyes. 

(There was always a slight feeling of uneasiness that came with the presences of the girl. No one can explain what it meant or what caused it but whenever she entered into a room somehow it was like the feeling of tension and hands gipping at them ghosted their throats and opened their eyes. It was the feeling of a prey watching the walk of a predator in their home yet were unable to understand why said predator never strike.)

(The hint of teeth and to bright eyes and burning sun hair was as equally as enchanted as it was terrifying.)

Then her brother grew, and the girl was more isolated, preferring to stay in her brother's company or to bury herself in a book and slowly the town relaxed. Not so much that they don’t stop search, but enough that they don’t fear to step outside their homes without the phantom sensation of eyes on their very being. 

Suddenly the town was quiet and that was okay. 

It was okay until the brother started to act strange, the presences of ghost entering their own, and a group of men in white started to invade their town. 

Suddenly eyes were on the new threat that invade their home, suddenly it wasn’t so quiet anymore, suddenly there was another set of predators stalking their lands.

But the town learned to adapt, have to adapt as they were no longer able to leave so easily anymore, trapped in their own home with the dead and by the men with black glass over their eyes watching them. 

Suddenly the Fenton’s were their least important problem and they left it at that. 

That was until the town woke up to something that left shivers down their spine and ice in their throats. 

Jasmin Fenton was dead, Daniel Fenton was missing, Madeline Fenton was screaming, and Jack Fenton was silent. 

Pt 2 (in a bit, jazz’s pov/centric)

[leosficlist]

Parentlock Part Two!!

As always, I can guarantee happy endings, Sherlock being amazing with children, and lots of love ❤️

Parentlock List 1, Parentlock 3

Unglamorous by YayCoffee 2k words

“John's heart is showing, and it leaps out and brushes Sherlock's face”

notes: john sees sherlock being lovely with rosie and falls deeper in love, obviously.

Rosie the Troublemaker by AmyTheMess 5.5k words

“Post-season 4, a few years later...7-year-old Rosie Watson gets called to the principal office. What a surprise when it's not John but Sherlock that shows up at the headmaster's door to pick her up”

notes: Sherlock defending Rosie every time she gets in trouble, and John finding out about it eventually.

Operation Homecoming by PlainJane 6.9k words

“Sherlock knows what he wants, and he's set about to get it.”

notes: soft and slow, the two of them finally drift closer.

Coming Home by Disc0inferno 2k words

“John keeps falling asleep in Baker Street, and Sherlock decides to finally call him out on it.”

Hidden Changes by MaddyisMo 🔒 2k words

“For the prompt: Sherlock is mid case at NYS and John has to pick up toddler Rosie. When he brings her in, there’s a few incredulous questions about Sherlock helping raise her from Greg and snide remarks from Donovan. Rosie is a bit tired and fussy. However, as soon as Sherlock walks in, Rosie lights up and reaches for him and he settles her on his hip without blinking and carries on working, while she rests her head under his chin and settles down. The others are surprised, John is not”

Over Eggs and Bacon by UnrelentingHost 3k words

“Sherlock freezes every time John observes him interacting with Rosie. John decides to do something about it.”

notes: quick little getting together, they’re almost arguing while confessing their love to each other, sherlock is proud of loving rosie

Oscillation by @aquilea-of-the-lonely-mountain 4.2k words 🔒

“John reached for his own little parcel on the table. He eyed it curiously and reached out to remove the wrapping paper. “Don’t open it. Please.” John’s movements stopped immediately. The parcel remained wrapped. He looked up and watched Sherlock with wide eyes, surprise and concern about his sudden outburst written all over his face.

“I … I’ve realized that I made a mistake.”

notes: oscillation on the pavement means a love affair …

Home by @aquilea-of-the-lonely-mountain

“Suddenly, Sherlock couldn’t get his suitcase fast enough. Impatiently, he grabbed it and hurried through the masses toward the exit. A month abroad had been far too long.”

notes: absence makes the heart grow fonder, or simply, makes the heart miss what its fond of.

Your Daughter by loveanddeathandartandtaxes 2.2k words

“Soon enough everything in the house that could reasonably called 'John's' or 'Abigael's' is either wedged into the car or stacked by the front door, and it's a weight off his shoulders, actually, to know he's moving back to Baker Street indefinitely.”

notes: Sherlock is attentive and caring, John falls even more in love

A Decent Proposal by @england-would-fall

“When John tells Sherlock that he's ready to re-marry, the detective offers his particular skills in support of his best friend. However, John's request is not quite what he expects...”

Shape of My Heart by MissDavis @missdaviswrites 4.6k words

February, 2021: John (finally) moves back to Baker Street. / John opened his eyes. "Thought we agreed we weren't going to get takeaway for every meal.” "We won't. This is a special occasion."

notes: quick little pining, moving back in and getting together

Permenant Fixture by @vitruvianwatson 18.8k words

“ Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.”

notes: have reread many times, figuring out what they are, rosie dropping a “dada” makes them finally talk

Full Circle by CumberQueer 13.7k words 🔒

“Sherlock Holmes has noticed that his best friend and crime-solving partner John Watson is doing well - too well for what they've been through, if you ask him. Sherlock is worried John is seeing someone that is making him very happy, and intends to find out who. But first: data. Featuring a spreadsheet of John Watson's Smiles, a parentlock makeover for 221b, and John being charming af.”

notes: slowish first time, laughing during sex, convos about what they are, a spreadsheet of john’s smiles

[syndrossi]

If Jon and Rhaegar WERE to sneak out into the city somehow, for some reason, would Rhaegar get them lost again? It would be randomly fun if they ran into, like, a nice Hugh Hammer who thinks they're bastards because of their hair colors and so feels a sort of kinship with these little lost children who are close in age to his own daughter. (Or Ulf, I guess, but I feel like Ulf would care less about protecting lost kids and more about, idk, proclaiming them as his bastard nephews or something, lmao. Silverwing would likely need to pick a different rider in the future in that scenario...) Do you think Daemon would find them because a goldcloak locates them, or because Rhaegar starts singing for the smallfolk (would he have canonically done this already as he was only fourteen?), or because Jon kicks somebody who tries to touch Rhaegar's pretty, pretty hair and thus creates a scuffle/chase/brawl, or in yet another way? I'd be eternally amused if Erryk and Arryk, on their ONE DAY OFF, go out to drink together as brothers, only to see Jon and Rhaegar sneaking through the streets like the little troublemakers they are. And why do you think would Jon and Rhaegar would be motivated to sneak out of the keep at all, when they know that doing so will drive their father's blood pressure up to insane levels? Are they investigating something? Following someone? Lured out? Looking for a birthday gift for their father? Just trying to stretch their legs after being locked in a tower for so long? Literally get lost in the tunnels and can't find their way back into the keep Arya-style?

FINALLY, in the reverberate au, how would this scenario differ? (Toddlers lost in the walls, oh dear.)

Oooohhhhh dear. Rhaegar would probably be able to successfully lead them out into the city without an issue--the main problem is that some passages within the keep seem either inaccessible, differently accessible, or not built/finished. (There are also a handful that didn't exist by Rhaegar's time!)

They would have to go out in disguise, however, because pretty much anyone who looks at Rhaegar in one of his princely outfits is going to assume he's the king's son, Aegon. (It's not an uncommon misconception even within the Red Keep, since he very much acts the part of a crown prince. Just don't let Daemon catch you making that mistake!) And Jon might be mistaken for Jace, for those who aren't quite sure how old Rhaenyra's son is!

I love the idea of them running into the Cargyll twins who cannot escape these troublemakers. The reeeeaaaal question is: do Jon and Rhaegar make a run for it?

If not the Cargyll twins, Ulf or Hugh would definitely be putting their lives on the line interfering with the twins, even in a "nice" way. 😂

Really, it all comes down to which section of the city they venture into. Flea Bottom is, uh, dangerous. Especially for two pretty little boys in finery wandering around. (And even not in finery! No one to miss them, and there is a healthy black market slave trade pipeline to outgoing ships headed to Essos.)

If they are closer to the Red Keep, aka where the nice shops and houses are, they're probably more likely to run into Erryk and Arryk, and less likely to encounter trouble. Just as likely that a Goldcloak who's seen them before in the Red Keep barracks recognizes them and tries to gather them up before Daemon realizes they're gone and goes ballistic.

At present, they're quite aware of the dangers they face, especially with their kidnapping still so recent, so I don't think they'd sneak out intentionally of their own accord just yet. This would have to be a few-months-down-the-road deal, when guards are lowered.

There are still a few circumstances I could see them finding themselves out in the city:

They are worried about Daemon and are trying to help him in some way, and sneaking out is the only way to do so.

A situation like Aegon trying to sneak out to the Dragonpit, and they tag along to keep him safe.

As you suggested, they're lured out in some way.

They are on a supervised excursion and separated in some way.

The real question, of course, is just how large the blast radius of Daemon's panic-fueled explosion ends up being.

[zapreportsblog]

↳ simple woman ↲

✭ pairing : arthur shelby x reader

✭ fandom : peaks blinders

✭ summary : arthur shelby is love with the simplest woman to exist and people wanna know just how he got so lucky

✭ authors note : so this one won’t be as long as my usual ones, definitely a good stroll down but nothing over the top :)

✭ peaky blinders masterlist

The Garrison pub was alive with the familiar hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. Arthur Shelby sat at a corner table, a contented smile on his lips as he exchanged words with his wife, (Y/N). The dim lighting cast a warm glow on the faces of the other Shelby family members gathered around.

"Arthur," Michael called, raising his glass in a mock toast. "You're a lucky man, you are."

Arthur's eyes flickered with amusement, his years of bristling at such remarks replaced with a newfound ease. He chuckled, a genuine sound that resonated through the air. "Aye, I suppose I am."

Beside him, (Y/N) grinned, a twinkle in her eye. "Aren't you just full of compliments tonight?"

The room erupted into laughter, the tension that used to hang thick between the Shelbys slowly dissipating over time. Arthur had changed, mellowed by his experiences, and the camaraderie within the family felt more genuine than ever.

Finn leaned in, his curiosity piqued. "How did you two end up together anyway?"

Arthur exchanged a knowing glance with (Y/N), the memories of their journey flashing between them. "Well, lad, that's a tale for another time," he said, a hint of mystery in his voice.

“Oh come on; humor me!” Finn whined.

“Fine, fine, let’s see..”

“I fell quite hard for (y/n) upon meeting her,” begins Arthur.

“Really?!” Finn questioned eyebrow raised.

“Aye lad that I did -“

“So unoriginal,” cried Finn.

“Aye shut up you git and let me tell my tale,” clearing his throat he begins once more. “As I was saying I fell quite hard for my darling wife here upon meeting her, literally at that. Son of a bitch tripped me,” Arthur says gaining laughs from all around him.

He himself couldn't help but chuckle at the memory.

**Flashback:**

The bustling streets of Birmingham were a familiar landscape for Arthur Shelby as he strode with purpose, his mind absorbed in the day's affairs. The rhythmic click of his boots on the cobblestones was his own personal symphony of authority, and he paid little mind to the world around him.

But fate had other plans.

Without warning, his foot caught against a shoe, sending him stumbling forward. His heart raced as his hands flailed to steady himself against a nearby lamppost. A sharp hiss of breath escaped his lips as he fought to regain his balance, his face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

From the shadows, the snickering of children reached his ears, their laughter grating on his temper. His sharp gaze darted toward the source, ready to deliver a harsh reprimand that would leave the young troublemakers in no doubt about who they were dealing with.

However, his words were stolen away as his gaze fell upon the one responsible for the laughter. A young woman stood there, arms crossed over her chest, a sardonic smile playing on her lips. (Y/N), as he would later come to know her. Her eyes sparkled with a glint of mischief, and her posture held a level of confidence that left him taken aback.

"That's what you get for not watching where you're going," she quipped, her tone dripping with amusement.

For the first time in a long while, Arthur was rendered speechless. He was accustomed to being in command, to issuing orders and having people follow them without question. But here was a woman, a stranger, speaking to him as an equal, and in a manner that he found both infuriating and intriguing.

As the echo of her words hung in the air, Arthur's chest heaved with a mixture of irritation and curiosity. His jaw clenched, torn between his instinctual anger and the realization that maybe he had met his match.

The children's snickers had faded into an expectant hush, their attention fixed on the unexpected standoff. Arthur's pride battled with the faintest flicker of respect for this woman who had dared to challenge him, to strip away the veneer of authority and reveal a man vulnerable to his own missteps.

For a few more heartbeats, they stood there, locked in a silent exchange of wills. And then, as if sensing the shift in the atmosphere, (Y/N)'s smirk softened into a genuine smile. "You alright, though?" she asked, her tone surprisingly gentle.

The tension in the air eased, and Arthur cleared his throat, his cheeks still tinged with embarrassment. "Yeah, I'm fine."

(Y/N) took a step closer, her eyes crinkling at the corners as if she found this whole situation highly amusing. "Good. Next time, watch your step."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Arthur to contemplate the unexpected encounter that had both unsettled and fascinated him. He watched her disappear into the crowd, his thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

As he continued on his way, Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that he had just crossed paths with someone who would challenge him in ways he hadn't experienced before. And as the memory of (Y/N)'s smile lingered in his mind, he realized that sometimes, even the simplest moments could lead to the most unexpected connections.

The encounter with (Y/N) lingered in Arthur's mind long after it had occurred. He found himself strangely captivated by her confidence, her quick wit, and the audacity to stand up to him. It was a feeling he couldn't shake, even as he went about his business as a Shelby.

Days turned into nights, and Arthur's thoughts often drifted back to the young woman who had dared to trip him and speak her mind. He found himself searching the crowded streets of Birmingham for glimpses of her, his footsteps sometimes taking him down unfamiliar alleys in the hopes of stumbling upon her once more.

One morning, driven by an inexplicable pull, Arthur set out earlier than usual. The sun was barely cresting the horizon as he walked down a familiar street, his gaze scanning the crowd for any sign of (Y/N). It was as if an invisible thread connected them, and he couldn't help but feel drawn to her in a way he hadn't experienced in a long time.

And then, as if fate had conspired to answer his silent plea, Arthur's gaze landed on a familiar figure. There she was, (Y/N), standing near a street vendor with a bagel in hand. Her attention was fixed on the pastry in a way that suggested she was savoring every bite.

His heart did a peculiar leap in his chest, and before he could think twice, Arthur approached her. "Fancy meeting you here," he said, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

(Y/N) looked up, her eyes widening in mild surprise before she swallowed her mouthful of bagel. "Well, well," she replied, a playful glint in her eyes. "If it isn't the man who can't watch where he's going."

Arthur chuckled, feeling an odd sense of camaraderie in her teasing. "I was just looking for an excuse to bump into you again."

(Y/N) arched an eyebrow, her expression a mixture of intrigue and amusement. "And you found me while I was indulging in a bagel. How charming."

**End of Flashback**

“Wait so how did you two end up together?” Finn asked.

Taking a sip of his drink Arthur begin another tale, “Let’s see, when I went to ask her out on a date she immediately rejected me.”

“Wait what?!”

“Yeah, that’s right I did” (y/n) giggles leaning her head over to lay on her husbands shoulder. “I didn’t like his tie.”

“Fucking rejected me over a goddamn tie.”

**Second Flashback:**

Arthur Shelby's determination to find (Y/N) grew with each passing day. He had become entranced by the enigmatic woman who had tripped him and challenged his notions of authority. It was as if an invisible thread connected them, drawing him to her like a moth to a flame.

One afternoon, his steps took him down the same familiar street where he had first stumbled upon (Y/N). His heart raced as he spotted her near a small cafe, sipping a cup of tea. Summoning his courage, he approached her, his palms slightly sweaty.

"Mind if I join you?" Arthur asked, his tone carefully casual.

(Y/N) looked up from her tea, a glimmer of surprise in her eyes before she gestured to the empty seat across from her. "Go ahead."

As they exchanged pleasantries, Arthur felt the weight of an unspoken question hanging between them. He took a breath, his heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "Listen, (Y/N), I've been enjoying our conversations. Would you maybe consider going out on a date with me?"

There was a moment of silence, and Arthur held his breath, waiting for her answer. He watched as (Y/N)'s gaze flickered, her expression thoughtful. And then, to his surprise, a smile tugged at her lips.

"Actually, I'd rather not."

Arthur felt the air leave his lungs in a rush, his surprise evident. He couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "I... I'm sorry?"

(Y/N) leaned forward slightly, her eyes dancing with mischief. "It's your tie," she said, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and sincerity.

"My tie?" Arthur repeated, his brow furrowing.

"Yes," she affirmed. "It clashes with your suit."

Arthur blinked, completely taken aback by the reason she had given. He looked down at his attire, his tie indeed a mismatched pattern against his suit. He had never been one for fashion, but the fact that his tie was the reason for her rejection left him utterly speechless.

Seeing his surprise, (Y/N) laughed, a sound that was both musical and infectious. "I have a thing for ties, you see. And if we're going to be seen in public together, I can't have that eyesore on my arm."

Arthur found himself laughing despite his initial disappointment. Her candidness was refreshing, and he couldn't help but be charmed by her straightforwardness.

"You know, I can change my tie," he quipped, a playful glint in his eyes.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, her expression teasing. "Oh, really? Well, maybe then we can talk about that date."

And just like that, the air was charged with a shared understanding, a connection that had transcended an initial rejection. Arthur realized that he had found someone who could match his wit and challenge his expectations, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at the prospect of a tie that met (Y/N)'s standards.

As they continued to chat, Arthur couldn't help but think that sometimes, even the smallest details could lead to the most unexpected and entertaining interactions.

**End of Second Flashback**

“Heh, I can definitely see her doing that.” Thomas chuckled taking a sip of his whiskey.

“So when did you know that she was the one for you?” Finn questions once more.

“When she rocked my shit,” Arthur let’s out a heartfelt laugh that reached downwards and pulled at his stomach muscles.

“Aye, I got one mean right hook,” flexed (y/n).

**Third Flashback**

The Garrison pub was alive with the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversations. Arthur Shelby sat at a table with (Y/N) by his side, their laughter mingling with the atmosphere of camaraderie that permeated the establishment. They had been dating for a while now, and their connection had deepened into something Arthur couldn't quite put into words.

As the evening wore on, the jovial atmosphere was interrupted by a crude comment from a man at the bar. His gaze lingered on (Y/N) for a moment too long, and a lewd grin spread across his face. Before anyone could react, he reached out and slapped her behind, a smug expression on his face.

The air grew tense as Arthur's eyes darkened with anger. He clenched his fists, his temper simmering beneath the surface. (Y/N)'s gaze met his, and he could see the fiery determination in her eyes. She wasn't about to let this slide.

Without a word, Arthur pushed back his chair and strode over to the man, his presence looming over him. "I'd advise you to keep your hands to yourself," he growled, his voice a low rumble.

The man sneered, his bravado undeterred. "What's it to you, mate? She doesn't seem to mind."

Before anyone could react, a punch was thrown, and chaos erupted. Fists flew, tables toppled, and the once-friendly pub transformed into a battlefield of clashing egos.

Amidst the melee, (Y/N) held her own, her moves fluid and calculated. She delivered a swift kick to one man's knee, causing him to buckle, and then ducked under a punch aimed at her. She spun around, landing a powerful strike that sent another man reeling.

Arthur's rage fueled his strength as he traded blows with the aggressor. His punches landed with precision, the violence of the fight a stark reminder of the world he inhabited. He caught sight of (Y/N) out of the corner of his eye, her face a mask of determination as she fought alongside him.

As the brawl continued, (Y/N) engaged in a rapid exchange of punches with a particularly formidable opponent. Her moves were fluid and fierce, a testament to her strength and resilience. However, in the heat of the moment, a sudden duck from her opponent led to a collision of her fist with Arthur's jaw.

The impact caught Arthur by surprise, causing him to stagger back. Blood welled in his mouth, and for a moment, his shock overshadowed his anger. He spat out the blood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze locking with (Y/N)'s.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still. The chaos of the fight faded into the background, and all Arthur could see was (Y/N), her fierce determination mirrored in her eyes. He realized that this was a woman who could not only hold her own in a fight but also challenge him in ways he had never anticipated.

The thought echoed in his mind as his focus shifted back to the brawl. With renewed determination, he squared his shoulders and reengaged with the man who had provoked the fight. The two of them traded punches with a ferocity that seemed fueled by a shared fire.

As the brawl finally began to subside, Arthur's knuckles bloodied and his breath heavy, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pride and affection for (Y/N). They had fought together, not as two separate individuals, but as a united force against adversity.

When the last of the brawlers had been subdued and the tension began to fade, Arthur turned to (Y/N) with a mixture of awe and amusement. Bloodied and bruised, she was a sight to behold, her fierce spirit shining even in the aftermath of the fight.

With a wry smile, he reached out to wipe away a smudge of dirt from her cheek. "You always did know how to make an impression."

(Y/N) chuckled, her gaze meeting his with equal parts mirth and warmth. "Just returning the favor, love."

In the midst of the chaos and the camaraderie, Arthur Shelby couldn't help but feel a deep sense of connection with the woman by his side. As he gazed at her, his heart pounded with a realization that cut through the chaos: he was going to marry this woman.

**End of Flashback Three**

“And from that point one, (y/n) and I been closer than ever” finishes Arthur.

[mars-writes-yandere]

OH MY GOSH tbh I didn't think the yan! golden boys would get so much love but one of my fav writers @ozzgin requested more background of the boys so, they ask and i shall deliver!

Warnings: yandere content, drugging, stalking, using a position of power against reader, bad writing and probably grammar mistakes. Let me know if i missed anything!

Word Count : 1,020

All of them met because of their parents. Their parents are wealthy and business partners so it only made sense that their children spent a lot of time together 

Luka and Mae have been best friends since the first time they met. Luka’s playful personality helped a shy Mae get out of his shell.Eden on the other hand took time to warm up with the other two. It was easier for him to befriend Mae first as he wasn't a troublemaker like Luka, just more outgoing. 

Luka tried for years to get Mae to be his friend and somewhere along the way he did soften Eden’s heart with his attempts. 

By middle school the boys were best friends.They didn't spend a lot of time in school together as they all had different priorities. Luka is always flirting with girls, Mae hanging around his ridiculously large friend group and Eden working hard to make a name for himself and keep his friends (mainly Luka) out of trouble. But, no matter what, all three of them always ate lunch together and had the same chauffeur take them home.   

When highschool rolls around it wasn't unusual for the boys to spend extended periods of time in any one of their houses. They're usually at Edens since his parents were always abroad so they're out of the house more than the other two’s parents. Afterschool usually consists of Eden doing student council work/homework and Mae and Luka talking about anything under the sun before eden yells at them to be quiet and do their work too. People always whisper about how those three are friends but it never bothers them. It's quite funny to them actually. 

The boys have talked about if they ended up liking the same person and they all agreed they would rather share or accept that that person only wants to date one/none of them. They've been such good friends for so long. Why wouldn't they? 

When they graduated, their parents gifted them a penthouse apartment. They would pay for the boys rent as long as they didnt get in too much trouble (luka 🤨) and they stayed in university. They were already basically living together minus when they went home to sleep and their parents were never around so this arrangement wasn't much of a change for the boys. 

So when they bumped into you the three of them already knew they didn't need to have a conversation of who would get you. You belonged to all of them. Mae was definitely the first to make more of an appearance in your life. He has so many friends it's not usual for him to talk to different groups of people but he would start using it as a cover to watch you. If you go into the library to study or use the computer Mae will follow behind and sit with a group near you or make conversation with the librarian. He will eventually be more forward with hanging out with you but you have to be a little patient. He's shy when he likes someone. 

Luka is more forward in following you around. He’ll start sitting next to you in classes you may share or popping up outside of your class after it ends to walk you to your next destination. It's unusual for him to feel this way about someone. He had made advances towards you and whether you react like he would expect you to or not this flirting felt more real to him like there was supposed to be a different outcome from it other than sex. He wanted to make you blush with his comments and not just to get into your pants; he wants to see you smile when he calls you beautiful and entange your fingers with his as he's walking down the street. 

Eden will use his position of power to make you come to him. He’ll have people follow you around and report you for the smallest of things which gets you into his office without having to ask directly. He’ll ask why you’ve been acting out lately while you try to figure out why you got in trouble in the first place. He will (demand) suggest that your punishment be helping him out with student council things like paper work and organizing events but, if you refuse he’ll make it so helping him is the only option. Even the administrators are a little weary of him so when he requests that you be his assistant or have the school expel you, they of course comply with his request and send you a notice of your possible expulsion from the school. 

Once you do start to comply with Eden though he softens up. HIs cold demeanor is placed with one that is still pretty cold but he compliments you way more than before. His touches will linger for longer and sometimes you catch him staring at you. He's actually the reason you were (forced) invited into their apartment. Eden said he had a lot of paperwork to do for the council but the school locks their classroom doors after 6pm so he makes you come over to their apartment to finish the paperwork. 

It was a surprise to Mae and Luka too but not an unwelcome one. They had you sandwiched between them on the couch in the living room while sitting in an armchair. You were told it was normal for the three of them to hang out like this (while it was, usually Eden wouldn't join until after he finished all his work but of course he wanted to sit out there with you) and to just get comfortable while Luka grabs you a drink!  Of course you don't ask why he already opened the can for you or why he's stirring your drink before giving it to you. Please don't be mad when you wake up in the living room couch laying on Mae while the others coo at your ‘oh so pretty face’ they just wanted you to stay a little longer!

[bannanasrus]

Safe and Warm

I love safe vore and am on a slight kick for it at the time of writing this so here is another Theodora and Leopold story!

contains M/F soft safe vore cuddling and a whole lotta fluff

Theodora climbed up the stairs to her and her husband's room she was cold, and she had had to leave quickly in the middle of the night, she would have to be quiet too her husband was asleep. she quickly got changed and after pulling on an old dressing gown which was meant to be warm she clambered into bed careful not to wake her husband by jumping in too quickly.

Theodora curled up under the covers shivering slightly trying to get over to her husband without waking him. it was the middle of winter and heavens was it cold. They had had a thick fall of snow that week and it was lying thick in the village streets.

Her husband the man she was currently trying to not wake as he had had a very busy few days had gotten back from transacting some delicate business had felt obviously the need to wind down had gone on a walk through the village, when he had gotten hit by a snowball. this one was an accident and the child had profusely apologised Leopold had accepted the apology and continued on his way.

However when a second snowball had also hit him, this one was intentional and had been thrown by the village troublemaker. instead of responding with anger, Leopold had laughed scooped up snow and returned the fire. the fight soon ended up involving a significantly large portion of the village children and had even included some of the adults including the vicar and blacksmith. The two teams as ended up being both attempting to get Leopold to play for them since he was the strongest snowballer there. However Leopold was immune to such attempts reveling in the chaos and in general having fun acting like a giddy child laughing tripping over himself and hurling snowballs with abandon. To the point that one of them hit the Dowager Countess Agnes Maria Anne Ida Giles the Dowager Countess of Ayleton. Embarrassed Leopold had nearly fallen to his knees in apologies as the Dowager Countess merely smiled picked up snow rolled it into a ball and flung it with precision accuracy that it hit Leopold square in the face.

Laughter came from the decidedly unwelcome soucre of the mouth of Cassandra Delia Whalebright, a local scourge it was silenced promptly by another snowball flung by the elderly Grand Dame.

"My apologies" said the Great lady "I thought that I was flinging at a fence post to practice my aim you know".

all of the village children had then wanted the Dowager countess on their team.

Leopold had laughed skipped and had been greatly undignified the entire time they'd been out. She wondered sometimes how someone so perfect existed he looked so beautiful lying beside her deep in sleep after an exhausting day. he didn't even bother to get into his sleepwear after bathing he had just crashed into bed naked.

Again she wondered if he even felt the cold, he generated so much heat naturally he always gave the best hugs. She on the other hand found it hard to keep heat in her when she was out and about she had multiple layers, but in bed well she had only the covers and her nightgown between her and the world, ok that was a little dramatic the warming pans had been in the bed before they had gone to bed, and there was a smouldering fire in the room, but still! she was a naturaly cold lady.

No wonder she'd ended up with a man who seemed to be affected by nothing in regards to temperatures below freezing, he could probably go out with nothing on at all and be fine, she smirked she'd love to see the look on Cassandra's face then oh yes!

Perhaps she wondered was his heat producing tendency a reason for his huge appetite?

She heard him breathe deeply and roll over “Theodora” he mumbled in his sleep “So wonderful” he reached his arms out and pulled her tight against him “So delicious”

Theodora tried not to laugh I wonder what makes you think I’m so special she thought. She kissed him gently on the forehead and curled against him.

Leopold woke gently feeling his wife's kiss on his forehead. He groaned quietly and sleepily.

"Hello sleeping beauty" whispered his Dora kissing him beneath his jaw "Sorry I woke you"

"Don't worry 'mbout it" he whispered groggily "Are you ok, why are you here in my bed so" he stopped "this is our bed" he said slowly

"It is darling" said Theodora

"Ok, what are you doing in so late" he asked confused

"I had some duties to attend to" she said

"I wanted to fall asleep with you in my arms or in my belly tonight" he said pouting

"You can still have that" she said lightly tapping his nose she shivered from the cold and cuddled in closer.

"Are you cold beloved?" he asked

"Yeah, I always find it hard to get heat into me" she said

He cuddled her close nuzzling his face into her neck "Well take some of my heat please"

"I think I know a way that we can both be made happy" she said smiling

"Are you sure, you don't have to do it just because I said it" he said shyly

"Of course I want to you to eat me" she said "I feel so safe when I'm inside you"

"Even though I sometimes Digest you? Melt you down and make you one with me"

"If I'm honest I think that's what I love most about the times when you digest me. but even if I didn't love it I still know that nothing will ever harm me when I'm inside you, you are my greatest protector."

He stared at her his eyes filled with wonderment "How" he said aloud "Did I ever get so lucky, I must be the luckiest gluttonous spirit to exist, to have you as my wife, to have you in my arms and in my belly each night...." he stared at her his beautiful wife his Dora

"Darling" she said

"I won't digest you" he replied as though responding to a conversation that to that point she had been a member of but not parlé to.

"I never said you had to" she said quickly she found herself being gently brought to a sitting position her Husband, her Leo, her darling holding her tightly licking his lips

"You are ok with me eating you, holding you, in my gut tonight"

"Of course I am, I always am" she replied quickly undressing so that her husband didn't have to deal with clothes wrecking her flavour. though he may have pouted normally (He liked getting to take her clothes off as much as she enjoyed taking his off) he merely cuddled her as she shivered against his body, though the heat radiated off of him she really wanted to be inside him and so began the process of clambering down his throat herself. surprised Leo let her, occasionally pushing her further when she got a bit stuck.

She emerged gratefully into the warmth of his belly above her Leopold patted his engorged gut and let out a belch of satisfaction "Ourrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp" he rubbed his stomach loving how her shape her form was now wholly held inside him. he really enjoyed that

All mine he thought only mildly possessively, not that Theodora would mind one should hasten to add after all she is happy to be Leopold's favourite meal and his wife. He is hers as well, both her Pred and her husband. any other meal that she would like to feed him, is merely passing through her darling's digestive system.

Now she felt safe above all else and warm too. Leopold would let her out in the morning as soon as both of them awoke, and if he decided to keep her in there a little longer, she didn't mind at all. it would keep him lounging in bed and give them quiet time together where they could just be in each other's company. Safe and Warm and together

I hope yous enjoyed this little story I really enjoyed writing it, this was meant to be quite fluffy hence the cuddly nature and the lack of very overt sexual content implied or otherwise. though granted vore is a kink so regardless of how clean you make it, its still a bit spicy.

I suppose this also counts as a Christmas Special since it's wintery so I guess that's fun too!

I really love the intimacy safe vore provides especially endo, which is what I believe this counts as just to have someone in the core of your being, or being in the core of someone else's being is just so tender and I love it and I really wanna see it being used more often.

More Vore Fluff!

Also I just adore writing with these guys Theodora and Leopold are just so much fun to write with and I wanna do more with them, I wanna do more with all my characters in fact. If you guys have any ideas for stories with any of my characters I've written about send me the ideas in!!

Love yas xx

[9800sblog]

pick a card tarot reading

a look into your future family

this reading is part of a charity event

pile 1 -> pile 2

pile 3 -> pile 4

this reading is meant to promote an event I prepared here on tumblr with the goal of collecting money for an animal shelter I volunteer at! here's their website and instagram page.

if you want to know more about the event and/or want an individual reading, please check out this post where I explained everything!

pile 1

you're likely to have a big family, I see pregnancy and adoption in your future, could mean adopting kids or pets! you're very likely to get married for love in this lifetime, and you may struggle a bit with money, may prefer to have a more practical or intimate wedding instead of a big ceremony with many guests. your family would be balanced, happy and peaceful, it's likely you'll all feel loved and respected in this dynamic, make beautiful memories even without relying a lot on money. you may use the wedding and/or honeymoon money to invest in a beautiful family house with a big land, I see much space for pets and children to play and for a couple to chill and dance. you may have infertility issues or an unplanned pregnancy, but it will all work out beautifully in the end, I see having a big family and protecting others is part of your life's mission. you may distance yourself from your original family, emotionally and/or physically, however it resonates to you. all of this could already be in motion, so you may be dating or interested in the person that will be the parent of your offsprings, maybe have a pet that will be with you for a long long time. this is a more traditional family I see, a couple, kids and pets in a house that they own. the couple will be intensely in love with each other, partners for life, a real ride or die, with a soul connection. you may live nearby a lake or the ocean and rely a lot in seafood. the people will be very supportive of each other's dreams and uniqueness, although you may not always have the tools to make your wishes come true, you'll always find a way that fits you well and makes you happy. this family will love to spend time together, hanging out and talking, sharing what's on your minds, I think this is a more creative family and you may spend a lot of time on the couch. kids would always help with the house chores and would be happy to do so, as they respect their parents and feel genuinely respected by them also. this may be a same-sex couple that won't be able to legally get married or impregnate, but will be full of love and peace.

pile 2

this pile will for sure get married but they might struggle a bit and have to work hard for that to happen. you may be very distant from each other at first, have difficulty talking, may be a long-distance relationship, feelings will grow steadily and endlessly. there is intense passion between each other, and the relationship is ruled by yin energy, steady, stubborn, patient but often misunderstood. this connection will help you make money and discover knowledge, this is the type of couple to enjoy long road trips and bake cookies with their cat in the afternoon. pregnancy is sure to be involved in this connection, probably after much consideration and planning as you seem to be a very organized duo with much self control, your kids seem to have opposite energies to you, they may come as a life lesson and mess up your balance. you may take care of your grandkids or nephews/nieces in the future, I do see you living closely to your original family, you may live in the same neighborhood, building or street as your parents, siblings, whoever or even share a house with them. your future family will require you to come out of your comfort zone and be more action oriented, you may lose the peace you once had in your marriage (not that it would cause separation, just learning together and being exhausted at the end of the day). your kids may be troublemakers, you may have an angry or neglected pet, I see struggle and conflict after you decide to make the family bigger, a lot of misunderstandings and bad communication between guardians and offsprings. I think teenagers and toddlers are the biggest issues, this could all just mean something silly like you adopt a pet and don't worry about spaying it immediately then it runs aways, and comes back with babies so you have to take care and it's messy, loud and too much, so you give them away. I don't sense a heavy energy from this pile but I do see a lot of struggles and misunderstandings. parents will be trying really hard while the ones they take care of may not understand, like you don't relate with one another. as yin energy rules the relationship of the parents, the family issues will be solved as such, with time, patience, softness and spiritual advising. this family may rely on therapy or religion, and nature time would be very helpful to bring everyone together. yelling, fighting, punishments like isolation or getting grounded would never be involved in this family dynamic, other people may think that this is dysfunctional and lack of discipline but it will pay off so well in the future. you may have a lot of playful fighting and your kids may hear or see things that others may think is too much, but you're not worried about traditional educating, in your mind the only rule is to keep everyone healthy in every sense (which you will manage). I see disability in the family tree, from one of the parents and/or kids, which also explains a lot of the struggles that the cards showed. this family is a lesson, part of your spiritual journey to learn more about other people, the world and yourself. where and what are your limits? how much control can you have?

pile 3

I don't see marriage in this future! 😁 I do see pregnancy, but probably an abortion or giving babies away for adoption, it doesn't seem this pile wants to raise kids of their own. I do see a lot of different types of pets tho, you may live in a farm or work in a sanctuary, a shelter, I know your environment will be full of loyal animals that follow you around like you're their parent or best friend, which is so fucking sweet!! this pile feels very very light, carefree and innocent, very pure. you may feel a little lonely from time to time, but you will be genuinely fulfilled! your house will be filled with friends and family like your siblings, parents, cousins, whoever, you won't have time to feel alone >< your home seems to be a representation of your heart, anyone is welcomed and you take care of everyone and everything, this is a place and a person (you) that people and animals go for comfort and healing, you'll adopt a lot of hurt and needy animals. you may have cows, chickens, bats for some reason came through, of course, dogs and cats are always around. the family you will create is a found family, your blood relatives, your friends, your pets... you will take care of kids, just not your own, I don't see you adopting or giving birth, just being a proactive, giving and altruistic individual. this family is the definition of pure love and comfort, it is unbelievable how healing and peaceful this feels. this family is your dream come true, this your reward, your karma, your peaceful break in your multiple lifetimes, it's like nothing is required from you except just being happy and doing whatever you want, literally.

pile 4

this family is likely to be divided! I see a marriage, but I also see betrayal and separation, the couple may not be together forever but they will have kids and be forever linked. in case that happens, the person reading this is likely to keep the children, just because that's what showed in the cards, I didn't put any spells or anything. your children will be your most priced possessions, you would protect them like little flowers in a war field. the struggles don't seem to affect this family at all, they're like tripping on a rock and continue walking because it didn't even hurt or risk your balance. there's such a breath of relief when you see your kids, the love between you is very pure and healing. you may worry more than you need to, this family will be very happy, healthy and protected, you may literally have a spiritual group or friends and family sent by your angels that protect you and guide all of you. this pile is reminding me a lot of rory and lorelai's relationship in gilmore girls! this family is a lesson for your soul to learn real love, to accept true and unconditional love, to trust the universe and let yourself be taken care of. this is a beautiful beautiful pile representing a beautiful beautiful family who is very close and cozy.