#very unusual takes on the backrooms

[expansion-stories]

more belly expansion in the works?

Nadia stumbled down the hallway, trying to ignore the increasingly urgent sloshing inside of her. Her thighs had started to rub together, and it was getting harder to keep balance.

It was getting harder to do anything.

C’mon, exit, exit, it has to be somewhere…

She was completely lost in winding hallways. Loud wails and moans of pleasure seemed to echo down them, reminding her of her friends’ fate.

They all turned into…into…

“Is anyone out there?! We need help!” There was a note of desperation in her voice, as she held her breasts in her hands to stop the jiggling. She could feel them plumping up, heavier and heavier each minute.

Another button pinged off her dress, her swollen belly pushing forward to fill the gap. Only one was left, the only thing holding her figure in.

Into the same thing she was becoming. Nadia closed her eyes for a moment. The memory flashed through her mind, of her best friend screaming for help as her belly pooched out, years of workouts erased in an instant.

Nadia was part of a small group of urban explorers. She’d found a strange series of rooms off a subway tunnel and invited her group to help. At first it was fun, looking at the endless pipes and large, circular doors- oh please no.

Nadia’s eyes went wide as she realized what that meant. She looked down at her swelling belly, easily exceeding nine months pregnancy size and quickly approaching the realm of inhumanly large.

It didn’t even have the decency to hurt. Her expansion was like sliding into a warm bath, the taste of rich cream still on her tongue.

What’s this stuff doing to me?

She stroked her widening areolae, letting out a shuddering breath as her body expanded like rising dough.

“F-fuck! Okay, stay calm…” Part of her brain simply couldn’t accept her new situation. Maybe since I had the least, it’ll slow down soon? She had only had a sip, and it had taken nearly ten minutes to start growing. Compare that to the woman who had half a glass…

The idea she would slow down was wishful thinking. With a yelp, her last button burst, and her dress completely burst open, belly jiggling like so much jello. She was thickening all over, butt overwhelming her panties, thighs becoming chunkier as she began to round out.

“Stop growing, stop growing, please…” Nadia whimpered pitifully as she realized her arms didn’t go straight down at her sides. Her walk was more of a waddle now, each step a struggle. She’s checking the doors, slower and slower as she grows. Empty room. Locked door. Another featureless hallway.

It’s so much worse when you’ve already seen it happen. Nadia knew exactly what the experience looked like- seeing her friends widen, the tearing of fabric, the desperate pleas for help replaced with pleas to be milked…

“I’m sorry, ok! I shouldn’t have taken that milk!” Talking directly to her figure felt silly, but it was the only think she had. Maybe it’ll just leave me obese, and that will be punishment enough?

There was a loud SNAP as her panties burst over one leg, but she jiggled far less now, too swollen and heavy to do even that. Nadia stopped to lean against the wall, to catch her breath, but discovered that was almost impossible. Her body was so big she had to shift the entire swollen mass to step, and she could feel stitches pop as the last pieces of her dress ripped off.

“I don’t…want���this big…” Tears ran down her face as she slumped forwards, placidly wheeling her arms in an attempt to rebalance. Or trying to, moving anything now was like walking in molasses.

Nadia’s body hit the ground and almost bounced. It was the difference between SQUISH and THUD- much quieter than she might have expected- and she realizes with horror how massive she’d gotten. She was firmer than a water balloon, but still loose enough to jiggle. Her panicked arm motions sent ripples through her enormous boobs, each nipple rocking back and forth as she tried futilely to move.

Nadia felt a pinching sensation in her nipple, and her eyes widened in surprise as she realized she was lactating. And not just milk- the same cream she’d foolishly drank, that she was blowing up with…

She moaned, trying to reach her nipples. Never mind ever walking again, a little release was the only thing on her mind. Nadia wobbled inside her swollen form like a waterbed, only serving to work herself up more as her soft flesh rubbed the floor and wall.

“Please….no more…milk….” Nadia was losing herself, but other things were happening. Deep inside the facility, a red light on a console turned green. Making four in a row.

[darkwicks]

Feverish

A little secret is revealed in the backroom.

PAIRING.⠀Baizhu x Reader

CONTENT.⠀gender-neutral reader; sickfic, pre-relationship, some fluff, pining, medical inaccuracies (source: I made it up). Qiqi and Changsheng make a cameo. MC is a bit of a menace. // ~0,7k words

A/N.⠀Just a little thing dedicated to bestie @eanul-rambul bc it's pride and I had to let him out of the basement (¬‿¬ ) enjoy

“Until your fever goes down, I’m afraid I can’t let you leave,” comes Baizhu’s chiding voice. “I know you’ll sneak off the moment I let you out of my sight. I will personally oversee your treatment.”

You grumble. “It’s not like I can’t take care of myself.”

“You can, but you don’t,” he retorts swiftly. “As a doctor and your… friend, I can’t allow that to happen.”

The dull ache in your temples and the heat across your skin convince you to stop arguing with him for once. You slump against the pillows in defeat, your stubbornness finally broken down and him once again taking the last word—again. You watch as he flits across the room, hard at work concocting the right antidote for you. Though you’d insisted earlier that you were fine and that the fever would go away on its own, Baizhu is equally stubborn as you, if not more.

Taking care of patients is beyond second nature to him, so being treated the same way is far from an unusual thing. But the amount of work he had coupled with his own problems makes you feel guilty in a way. You don’t want to take up too much of his time, yet here he is, fussing over you like the worrywart that he is.

Qiqi lies on your bedside, feet dangling off the edge as she stares up at you, cheek resting against her hands. As much as it hurts to move, you gently pat her head with a fond smile. Baizhu had given her a break today, now that he has time to manage the pharmacy himself. The child could’ve gone wandering in the outskirts of Liyue, but she’s chosen to stay with you. It’s as if she’s developed an attachment to you somehow, even if you haven’t known her for a very long time.

Bitter over him reading you too well, you continue to sulk with your arms crossed over your chest, lips jutting into a pout. It’s not like you can’t heal yourself! Long journeys and family traditions have given you more than enough medical knowledge. It’s just that you’re a little weak today—nothing more. A good nap would have you back up and running in no time. That’s what you told him, only for him to decline as soon as you even stepped behind the counter.

“Doctor Baizhu wants to take care of you himself,” Qiqi speaks up after a moment of silence, idly kicking her legs as she subtly nuzzles into your hand. “He’s worried about you.”

“Qiqi…!” he sputters, momentarily freezing in his tracks. 

Much to your amusement, she ignores him, choosing to comfortably nestle into your side instead. Despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach and the warmth in your cheeks, you find yourself smiling in joy. Decidedly flustered, he continues to have his back turned to you, but the crucial piece of information she had let slip confirms it. The puzzle pieces are falling together at last.

“You’re worried about me, Doctor Baizhu?” you tease, entertained by how stiff he’d gotten. “Wanted to take care of me yourself, huh?”

He clears his throat. “It’s my job as a doctor.”

“Is that all?”

A pause. He nervously makes his way back to you, medicine now ready as he tries his hardest to avoid your curious gaze. As he’s about to put the tray down on the bedside, you wrap your hand around his wrist and peer at him mischievously.

“Hey…” you murmur. “You’ll take care of me, won’t you?”

Baizhu’s face is flushed and he can’t look you in the eye, something you find more than endearing as he shifts where he stands, uncharacteristically awkward and flustered. He clears his throat again, though he remains speechless.

“He’s gotten a lot warmer,” Changsheng adds mirthfully. “This is the warmest he’s been.”

“Ooh, you like me!” You grin, playfully nudging him. “You know, I’d kiss you if I wasn’t sick.”

“I… I’d be able to withstand it,” he says quietly. You only find yourself becoming giddier, thoroughly enjoying the sight of the composed Baizhu so shy. “W-Well! This shouldn’t be hard to swallow, I did my best to make sure it’s flavourless. One spoonful a day should do.”

“Will you be taking care of me every day too?” you ask, unable to resist teasing him some more.

His eyes widen. Trying to regain his composure (and failing, but you don’t mention it for his sake) he gives you an affirmative nod. You want to pinch his cheek in endearment, but you decide that can wait. You’ll savour this sight of him and this moment the best you can—fever and all.

“If that’s what you’d like,” Baizhu breathes, “if you’ll let me.”

[batsythoughts]

Alright, but Bruce Wayne with 'Meet Cute' and 'Tragic Love Story' combined? I personally need to get this idea off my chest, so enjoy.

Due to his strained sleep schedule and social life, Bruce would occasionally need a pick-me-up

There was this one Cafe that he enjoyed due to how strong they were able to make the coffee compared to other shops in the city

Normally he would walk in and the employees would start working on his order before he even got to the counter

One day, he was grabbing his cup from the counter when he noticed something unusual on the sleeve of the cup

Holding the cup closer to his face, he takes in the sight of a multicolor butterfly that was 'flying' across the cup sleeve

He turned to the manager with a raised brow, to which the manager looks over at one of the employees at the other end of the counter with an annoyed gaze

Bruce turns his gaze to see you standing there with a handful of sharpies in your apron pocket as you look at both men with a shrug

"I got bored."

Your manager began to give a small lecture on the fact you were getting paid to do a job and doodling wasn't apart of that job

You made a face, which Bruce found slightly amusing, to your manager with crossed arms

"I come in to prep at 3 a.m. for 6 days every week, by myself might I add. I do the work that is supposed to be divided to be done by 3 people. I have to fight you to get 15 minutes out of my hour long lunch. I'm sorry you don't like that I don't actively search for more work to do when I'm already doing more than my 10 dollar an hour pay grade. If you don't like it, fire me. But don't forget that I can sue you for sexual harassment because I'm certain you forgot that the owner put had cameras installed in the freezer to safe guard the minors who work here."

Bruce felt shocked as he glared over at the manager, who was suddenly very quiet and very flustered at your words

Before Bruce was able to tear into this poor excuse of a man, a woman in a formal suit came out of the backroom with fire in her eyes

You smiled as you look from your manager to this woman, who Bruce was assuming to be the previously mentioned owner, asking oh so sweetly if you could go to your break

Bruce watched you walk out the door with a strange curiosity blooming in his mind. Despite having never paid much attention to you beforehand, but now he was wondering what more there was to you

The next couple of weeks, Bruce found himself coming to the Cafe more often in the mornings to interact with you more and to see more of your doodles on his morning coffee cup

He was even subconsciously going to the block on his patrols to make sure you were getting into the shop alright on the days when you opened alone

Eventually, the habits were beginning to get noticed by everyone around him. Tim and Damian noticed he was a bit more cheerful in the mornings when they were taken to school. Jason realized the determination that Bruce put in at 2:57 every night on one block specifically. They were all clueless until Dick, Cass, and Stephanie started rummaging through his office and found the original cup sleeve placed in the back of one of his desk drawers

The next day when Bruce was going to be busy with a meeting with a few shareholders, Dick and Barbara came walking into the Cafe with huge grins on their faces

When they made their way to the front of the line and ordered, they excitedly asked for the barista that was drawing the cup sleeves

When they were pointed to your direction, they went over and started to explain that Bruce had found you interesting and they thought he would want to get to know you better if he could

Barbara pulled up a picture of Bruce in case you didn't quiet remember him. But you smile with a small nod saying the you remembered him from the incident with the old manager

Dick got even more excited as he asked if you would be willing to maybe, potentially, want to go out with Bruce for a date because they bet that he found you cute and was scared to get rejected

Later that day when Bruce had finally gotten home, Dick and Barbara were waiting by the door as they practically were jumping in their spots

They held out a coffee cup to Bruce, which made him feel anxious that they had found out about his small infatuation

He took the cup to see a small drawing of a ticket with a box of popcorn. He saw your name with a phone number with a a simple question. 'Movie on Tuesday?'

Bruce doesn't have time to scold or thank them before they ran off in the manor

He went to his office, closing and locking the door before taking out his phone to send you a quick message about what you might want to watch

He began to think it might have been a bad idea as he started to type that he had the wrong number when he saw a response suddenly pop up

You had confirmed the movie and time that might work with both of your schedules to go watch it

Bruce quickly double checked his schedule before confirming that it worked out for him and suggested to meet up there, he wanted you to feel like you could leave if you ever wanted to during the whole thing

As the day came closer, Bruce felt concerned for the date and if it would be best to back out and spare potential heart ache down the road

But he fought down his worries as he dressed down in casual clothing so he wouldn't be noticed

After getting a pep talk from almost every one of the Bat children, Bruce finally drove to the theater with a few minutes before the meet up time

He was slightly shocked to see you actually standing in front and waiting for him out front in your own style of formally casual clothes

He got out of the car and walked up to you with a slightly awkward confidence with his greeting. The man may have the ability to charm almost any person on a whim, but it was different this time. This time, he was genuinely interested in the person in front of him

The smile you gave Bruce when he walks up warms his heart in a way he hadn't felt in some time

He paid for the tickets and tried to pay for the snacks, but you insisted that you didn't want him to pay for the whole thing

"It's just popcorn and drinks. I've got it this time."

This time. The words had Bruce feeling hopeful for the next date even though this one wasn't even over

Getting settled into the seats, you two delve into light conversation, the occasional laugh slipping in

By the time the lights went down for the movie to start, Bruce had already considered this to be a successful date with how much he felt you two had bonded

The theater was quiet as the movie played, the screen casting a soft glow over all the faces there

Bruce had felt himself truly relaxing for the first time in so long as he sat next to you in the partially full theater

He almost jumped when he felt you suddenly lean into his side halfway through the movie

But he relax before moving his arm around your shoulders as he glanced over to see if it was alright

The small smile on your face as you leaned closer to Bruce made a small flutter to form in his stomach

When the movie came to an end, Bruce kept his arm around your shoulders as everyone walked out into the parking lot

There was small talk about thoughts on the movie before the goodbyes had to be said for the night

He was questioning himself on if a hug would be the best to do or if that would be too forward

You beat him to it as you gave him a small peck to him cheek before saying you would text him to let him know you got home safe

Bruce couldn't help but smile as he drove back to the manor. Completely forgetting about the small army of children that would interrogate him the moment the door opened

He got bombarded with different types of questions from 'did you have a good time', 'what are they like', 'are you going out again soon'

Damian mostly just listened while standing there before he asked if there was a photo of his father's potential consort. Dick says he's got one to show him later

(Bruce makes a mental note to talk to the Damian about appropriate terms to use in relationships and to get the photo Dick has)

Bruce quickly told all of them to go and get ready for patrol as he pushed his way past the entryway

All the children smiled to themselves as the began to go to the Batcave to get their gear together with the intention of getting more information later

Bruce took a moment to breath before feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. Checking it to see that you had messaged him when you got home and couldn't wait until next time

"This one must be special if you smile at a message."

Bruce looked up at Alfred when he heard that comment, not even realizing he was smiling

Alfred had a soft look in his eyes as he gave a simple nod before walking away for Brice to be alone

Bruce typed a quick message in agreement of meeting up again sometime soon before putting his phone away to get ready for the night ahead

The next few months (yes, months because he wants to be cautious with this relationship), Bruce had tried to make plans at least once every week for dates

Each time the two of you spent time together, he couldn't deny the feeling that he got when being around you. You never tired to bring his money into it and never pushed for the pace to go faster over the course of the whole thing

He even asked if you could be official with each other relationship wise, though not entirely out on the public eye if you didn't feel comfortable with all the sudden attention, which you happily agreed to

He had finally asked if you would want to come to the manor one day to properly meet all the kids, who were all eager to get to meet you

You both agreed on a day and time to have dinner later that same week he suggested it

The night of the whole dinner, Bruce and the kids helped Alfred get the manor cleaned and even assisted in the cooking

They were all excitedly waiting in the living room dressed in their best clothes for the occasion as the time for you to get there getting closer

As the minutes went by, everyone starts to get anxious as there wasn't anoise coming from outside the door

The moment the hour struck, everyone was on edge for the knock on the front door to come at any moment

(If you don't

Alternative Ending

Stephanie and Barbara were trying to be hopeful by saying maybe you just had to change outfits from a last minute stain accident

Tim and Dick were saying that a family thing could have come up and maybe you were trying to get it handled before coming over

Damian had a hopeful tone as he stated that there was most likely traffic and you were just caught in the middle of it (he was really hopeful about his father finding a good partner)

Bruce gave a small smile to all of them before he decided to send you a quick text to ask if everything was alright and if you needed to reschedule for another day

Jason gave a small grunt before grabbing the remote. Turning on the TV as he said that Damian was right and the traffic news would prove it

Flipping through the channels, he finally got to the news channel. And dear God, did Jason wish he could take that decision back

Every one stared in silence as the lights flashed on the screen as they took in the sight of a terrible car crash

A reporter talked about the fact a drunk driver had blown through a 4 way stop and had hit the victim's car that was sadly just at the wrong place

The reporter had said that no name was being given about the victim so family could be informed first and make the proper medical decisions

No name had to be given though as the kid's saw the look on Bruce's face

He didn't need to be there to see that it was your car. He didn't need to get a look at the license plate to tell. He could tell just by the small little decal you had on the back window

Jason quickly turned the TV back off as they all nervously look over at Bruce as he continued to stare at the black screen

No words were said as they each moved closer to, but not touching, Bruce to show their support to him as he slowly processed the whole thing

The sound of his phone going off finally broke the fragile silence of the room. Bruce cleared his throat as he quickly picked up the phone, his hand shaking when he saw your name appear on the screen

He answered with a weak voice before he heard the woman's voice on the other line

The woman said she was your mother and slowly asked if Bruce had seen the news report. He could tell she had been crying even through the phone

She hesitated before explaining that it wasn't good and that the doctors said that after a few tests, it was declared that you were legally brain dead

Your mother chocked for a second before saying that she wanted to give Bruce a chance to say goodbye before the next steps were being taken

Bruce took a moment before saying that he would be there within the hour before hanging up the phone

He just sat there for a second as the silence blanketed the room once again

Alfred placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder before saying that he would drive to the hospital for Bruce

All the kids shared glances before getting up and going to pack away the dinner to give Bruce a minute

Bruce stood up before going to the door as Alfred followed close behind. The ride was silent as Alfred guided through the streets, intently going the long way to avoid the crash site

Bruce walked through the door before going to the reception desk to ask what room you were placed in

After getting directed to what room you were in, he saw a woman standing outside as she talked to a doctor. The woman turned her head and stopped the doctor before ushering him over

The doctor hesitantly walked away as your mother politely introduced herself before explaining the severity of the situation. That even with life support, you would probably not even survive one week with how you got hit

She said that you had talked so happily about the relationship the two of you had and believed that Bruce deserved to have his own goodbye

Bruce felt the words catch in his throat as he hesitants to ask if you would be left on life support or not

Your mom quickly explains the plan you had made for a situation like this before she glances at the room you were in. She offered to let him have the final goodbye in peace

Bruce gives a small nod as he gave her a small hug as he expressed how sorry that this had to be how they had met one another

The moment Bruce steps through the door, he feels the tears form in his eyes as he takes the sight of you laying there, basically lifeless on the bed

He walks over to the bed as his hand reaches out to touch yours

He just stands there for a minute as he stares at your face. His other hand coming up to gently brush his fingers over your cheek

He knows that there nothing he could do to potentially help make you recover. He understood this was going to be the last time that he was every going to get to lay his eyes on you

Bruce leaned down to rest his head on yours as he took a deep breath. Closing his eyes as the words finally seemed to come to him:

"I am so glad that I got to know you for the time that I did. Best thing you ever did for me was drawing on the first coffee sleeve. I'm gonna miss you and I... I love you."

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before he pulled away. A sad smile gracing his face before walking back out of the room

He wrote his number and address on a small card before telling her that she could come to him if she needed any help

She had a weak smiled as she thanked him before giving him another small hug as she says to make him aware of all the things regarding the funeral and the burial spot

The ride back is just as quiet as the drive to the hospital. Alfred only giving a small glance towards Bruce as they drove up the driveway

Bruce walked through the door to find Dick standing there with a solemn look in his eyes. He tells Bruce that he can take the night to process everything and that he will handle the patrol

Bruce gives a weak nod as he walks through the manor and to his room so he could hopefully get some form of rest

No one had went to check on him to give him a chance to be alone with his thoughts for the night

Bruce just laid on the bed as he replayed all the moments that he had with you. A sad chuckle passing his lip before he decided to get some sleep

The next couple of weeks involved Bruce going to the funeral and going to the cemetery to put a small keepsake there to leave a part of himself there at all times with you

One day when he got back from work, Bruce was about to go to his office to sort out a few case files that he would be needing

There was a package on the desk the moment that he had walked in. He was concerned about what might potentially be in it before he saw your mother's name as the return address

Bruce carefully opened the package to see a picture frame that was carefully wrapped in some bubble wrap

He took out the frame and removed the bubble wrap to find a picture of you smiling at the camera as you jokingly point to Bruce who was behind you in the photo talking to someone off camera

Bruce remembered the day that photo was taken. It was your fourth date at the park and he was buying a snack from one of the vendors

He didn't know you had even taken any pictures that day. He stared at it for a moment before noticing a small note in the box the photo came in

He picked it up to see a small note from your mom

'I asked for a picture of the man that was making my child so happy. This was the one I was sent as I was told that he could be the one. I thought you would want it.'

Bruce stared at card for a second before a grin ghosted his lips. Setting the photo on the corner of the desk, he tucked the card in the corner

Sitting down in his chair, Bruce just admire it for a moment as he took a deep breath. Staring for a moment before getting the files that he needed together

[terrence-silver]

Terry says to his beloved "I can give you anything and everything" and beloved says "I want a baby" how would the different era of Terrys handle this situation?

---

― Ironically, Twig, or rather a young Terry, probably heard this demand from his own parents, or at least his father, as soon as he returned from Vietnam, and maybe even before that, at a ridiculously young age; Leave that whole army shebang behind. Take over the company. Take over the family business. Expand it. Don't neglect all the privileges that were given to you in the pursuit of idle, hippy-dippy nonsense. Be the man you were always supposed to be. Give us some grandchildren who can do the same one day. Those were, in a nutshell, undoubtedly the basic tenants he might've grown up with (give or take), because those are usually the tenants more or less every traditional parent has for their kids. So, when beloved lets Terry in this period in his life in particular know that they want a baby with him, it doesn't come as a tremendously big surprise because it was somehow always a given it would happen one day --- only difference is, Terry actually has someone he absolutely desires to produce progeny with probably even more than beloved does themselves, so children might come about as a result of this relationship awfully quickly precisely because Terry wants to 'leave the whole Vietnam thing behind' just as he was advised to do, and move on --- become stronger, better, more accomplished, not bogged down by what he survived. He wants to crystallize. Get in control of his circumstances. Overcome. He is in pursuit of transformation. This is a very raw era in his life, though. And while he wants this baby to symbolize the turning of a new page there's always the looming shadow of freshly acquired PTSD still hanging over him like a dark cloud where he's convinced he'll, for the lack of a better word, fuck up somewhere where fatherhood and family is concerned; a fact perhaps outweighed by his devotion, love and eagerness to please as he stays true to his word and gives beloved everything they want. Everything. Even legacy. In spite of his complicated state of mind right about now, he's more boyishly excited for a child than beloved could ever be because he just adores the idea. It's one of the purest sources of joy he's had since the war.

― Terry Silver in the 80's literally just goes ahead and fucks beloved on the spot when they respond to his 'I can give you everything and anything' with 'I want a baby.' You want a baby? Okay. Fair enough. Not a second's to be wasted. Might as well get down to business right about now because time's money. Emphasis on the NOW. Cancel all appointments, Margaret! He does it, right there, on the floor. On nearby furniture. In the tub. In the steam room or the sauna. On the desk. In front of staff. All around the mansion. In the dojo. In the backroom of some event. In the back of his Rolls Royce. On top of the Rolls Royce. And in the weeks to follow? Sex in unusual and outlandish places shamelessly and perversely becomes a ritualistic norm, happening as often as a couple of times a day or as much as is needed for someone to get knocked up. Well, beloved said they wanted kids, and this is how kids are made. Yes. Terry treats the whole thing like running an Olympic Marathon with an Olympic torch in tow or training for some sort of extreme sport and it truly takes quite a bit of willpower, stamina, determination and strength to keep up with him, but that's what one gets when they wind him up --- it becomes pretty impossible to unwind him. It doesn't matter, though, because he's gleeful, enthusiastic, titillated, turned on and he isn't one for empty talk. He truly says what he means and means what he says. He wasn't here promising beloved that he'll give them 'anything' purely to seem fanciful. It's not just some corny line for him. This guy? He entirely meant it. And with such an intensity of force and conviction that he could genuinely have beloved pregnant within weeks, or as quickly as nature allows, because he won't stop until it happens. The only thing he and beloved will stop for is to eat, drink, bathe, rest (a little), so he could train, keep up his endurance and core power and so they could get back to fucking post-haste, often going as far as multitasking and doing above-mentioned activities simultaneously with having sex on the clock. Turns out, people can fuck, drink, bathe, rest and train at the same time if they're committed enough to a cause, and Terry Silver sure is committed.

― That's all old man Terry ever wanted. For years. Decades, in fact. That is, pretty much, the one regret of his life; not having children. In plural, you'll notice. So, when beloved suggests it with such fervor to him, it's like all of his life so far suddenly clicked into place. He is on the verge of having everything --- quite literally everything. Someone who loves him for him and wants to have his kids even when they're offered every other material possession in the world by him freely. No. Beloved picked having his babies instead. In a society where everyone's out to use everyone (and Terry could write a dissertation on the subject, trust and believe) this is a monumental occasion; a proof of beloved's worth and steadfast nature. Of their loyalty towards him. Of their love. That they're in this with him for all the right reasons. That they're not out here to use them, but rather, that they're here to build with him, so, in effect, if this was ever a test, him asking them what they want him to give them, beloved passed with flying colors. If it was possible for him to love them even more, he does now, after such a statement and it is pretty hard to describe, in a short post, how profoundly emotional Terry would be hearing this; to the degree he'd almost hesitate for a second, because what if it's too late now, at this stage in his life? What if he cannot stay in control of how long he'll have with his figurative kids even if they are born? What if it's beyond his power to pick and choose how many years are ahead of him? What if his joy is fleeting and it'll slip out of his hands like water? The idea of not having the upper hand and the authority in these decisions is infuriating and harrowing, intermingled with this overwhelming desire that --- no --- he should think large and take what he wants. When he wants it. He's always had what he wished for out of life and now should be no different, so after a period of self-reflection, brooding and I dare even say depression comes a newly found state of genuine fulfillment for Terry. He gives beloved the babies they both so dearly wanted and that guy, well...he's legitimately happy.

[fearandhatred]

what are your favorite good omens fics??

WOO REC TIME thank u for asking!! you may want to ask again after i've finished my resolution of reading all my mutuals' fics though because i've barely had the time to read anything these past few months... so i don't have much bookmarked lol but here are a few anyway! (from earliest read to most recent)

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mourning doves by sleepyimpulse (Words: 22,686 Chapters: 7/7)

“I’m sorry,” he registered himself saying between heaving sobs. “I’m so sorry, Crowley, I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please, please forgive me.” He hadn’t meant to say it like that, he knew the words were all wrong (he would never find the right ones). But the pain was coming at him in every direction and something, something had to give, and so he clung to Crowley like a life preserver. Crowley bent his body over Aziraphale’s and slowly, surely, pressed a kiss to his bloodied forehead. “I can’t,” he whispered, and Aziraphale went unconscious. (Aziraphale falls, post season 2)

this was one of the very first good omens fics i read and one thing about me is i LOVE this type of angst. so so good and such a nice exploration of crowley's struggle with what forgiveness is. gorgeous and so angsty. have i said that already. angst galore

say yes to me (i've got my eye on you) by thehappyyears (Words: 11,983 Chapters: 1/1)

It’s a pleasant evening much like many pleasant evenings this month, so Crowley doesn’t expect anything unusual when he makes himself comfortable on his side of the couch and lets Aziraphale select the wine. Which is why he’s resolutely caught off guard when Aziraphale disappears into a backroom, which Crowley always assumed was a wine cellar, and then turns around, darkness behind him and low, warm light gilding his hair and making his eyes bright. He’s breathtaking, he’s so beautiful, his eyes are so dark. “Crowley,” he breathes. Or, Crowley and Aziraphale have sex.

this is THE epitome of service top crowley. all hail service top crowley. also it's just so well-written and seamless. also i don't want this list to be too long so if smut is your thing then i recommend literally anything by focusfixated or zehwulf or Ineffably_Yours

Zmija by Himitsu_no (Words: 3,185 Chapters: 4/4)

He'd sigh in annoyance and hide his face in the angel's chest. "Said if they lived longer they'd have more time to become nasty and corrupted little shits, do all sorts of evil deeds and the likes. They never questioned it and went as far as warn me in advance of all the bigger natural disasters." Aziraphale would laugh and his fingers find their way into the red locks with practiced ease, and he'd bend to kiss the top of his head. "Did they do that, though? The evil deeds." Crowley would smile despite himself, eyes closed and leaning into the caress. "About a dozen, maybe. The rest were just... ordinary humans doing ordinary stuff." There'd be a long pause in which the angel would take it all in, and the demon would replay many of it in his mind with unease. Then Aziraphale would speak again, voice barely a whisper, "How long were you in Mesopotamia after the flood, my love?"

yeah i have this in my bookmarks but i have not touched it ever since i read it the first time because. it hurts me :) idk if it's because of my mommy and daddy issues but the whole crowley being good with kids tropes makes me so sad. and also this fic is just. devastating to me. i really should leave a comment but i don't want to read it again fr

when i knew love’s perfect ache by sugarskulled (Words: 1,834 Chapters: 1/1)

A demon can't touch that which has been made holy by God. Crowley knows this well as anyone. And Aziraphale? Aziraphale is so holy it burns.

this is definitely one of my favourite good omens fics of all time. angst again and so bittersweet i think about it so often

better to read and eat cake in a Soho bookshop than to reign in Hell by Kaesa (Words: 35,717 Chapters: 5/8)

When Aziraphale flees Heaven with the Book of Life, he's planned for it -- he's alerted other angels stationed on Earth to Heaven's plans, and asked them to take steps so that humans won't get caught up in the inevitable battle he faces with the other archangels. But Crowley shows up too, and he doesn't know the plan, and in the chaos Aziraphale leaps in front of a terrible blow meant for Crowley. And so, still very angry with him, Crowley must get him back to the bookshop (which is full of annoying angels) and help him heal, and try to figure out how to move past their previous fight, because, sure, he's mad at Aziraphale, but he doesn't want him to die. But soon enough it becomes clear that Aziraphale isn't necessarily dying. He is changing, and no one quite knows what to expect, because this situation has only happened once before, when Supreme Archangel Lucifer Fell and became Satan.

this fic has everything tbh and it's one i keep coming back to. the smut is great AND well-written and besides that the plot itself is so good??? the writing overall is just gorgeous tbh. slight body horror too :) the moment this updates i will be all over it like a rabid dog

Dear Angel by crowleys_bentley_and_plants (Words: 3,379 Chapters: 13/?)

A collection of emails addressed to a certain Aziraphale, found on the computer of a lonely demon.

poetic and hard-hitting and interconnected and also tells a story. through emails!! also the last lines of every chapter always knock me out lmaoo

to hold you like a bouquet by gravitron (Words: 10,676 Chapters: 1/1)

Crowley and Aziraphale, as told by history’s flowers.

can y'all read this fic oh my god i'm gonna fight everyone. so so beautifully written and well-structured. you know what i'm just gonna copy and paste part of my comment on here because yeah: i love your writing it's just. The Way Yo uWrite. The Words. your way with words. etc. and some of your sentences have a directness to them that's so effective. and the way you incorporated the flowers into every part of the story is like... so tastefully done I'm obsessed

[chinchillasinunison]

I had a dream last night that I went to Japan for a school trip (I graduated two years ago) but it was to this weird hotel that like a lot of buildings in dreams was just kinda funhouse hodgepodge of weird rooms to walk through. It started with me watching a movie with @good-beans (didn't go to college with me) in the theater (the hotel had a theater) and I wasn't vibing with it so I left to go back to my room. There were probably a lot of wacky rooms that I don't remember but there's one bit near the end that I do. There was a bosozoku meeting going on in a room made to look like a garage. And these were original bosozoku like gruff-looking old guys in approximations of their old tokkō-fuku (jumpsuit style instead of school uniforms) and right next to it was this other room that had a bunch of bikes in it and this weird machine that I could best describe as like a dozen treadmills arranged in a circle formation that they could ride up to and ride their bikes on the simulate driving??? I should mention that this was sorta set up like a museum or indoor zoo exhibit where the set was split like a dollhouse and I was on a path beside it to view which made the whole thing feel weirdly exploitative. they could freely leave tho I saw one guy climbing back into the exhibit after a bathroom break so it was more like they just had a really weird job than being genuinely trapped. anyways I climbed the stairs and in the middle of the flight there was a niche decorated as what I can only describe as a Mondo shrine. I wanted to take a picture of it for you guys but my phone had no service (which shouldn't effect your ability to take pictures but y'know. dream.) so I tried to ask other people touring this weird exhibit to take a picture of it and email it to me later but they all were really weird and shitty about it. So in disappointment I climbed to the next floor, which was like a really packed furniture store but without any prices. Just a bunch of armchairs and tables and things with barely any room to move around. Very backrooms. Unusually (I noted even in the dream itself), nearly half of it was cat trees. I remember thinking in the dream that the Mondo shrine was kinda a cute transition between these two ideas (bosozoku to furniture, which y'know is what carpenters make with a lot of stuff for the cute fluffy animals he secretly likes). And then I woke up.

[thana-topsy]

A Conversation on Grief

Had this little scene spring to life in my head yesterday while going through bouts of personal melancholy, and it was an absolute joy (despite the tone) to revisit my beloved Father and Son Duo.

A quiet moment between Aerik and Nilandur. On AO3 for those who prefer to read it there. Below the cut for anyone else who still cares about these two and have wondered what they might be getting up to.

-

The sun had long since set when the bell at the downstairs backdoor rang unexpectedly. Nilandur had just settled into his chair for the evening, a warm cup of tea in hand.

“Who in the world might that be?” asked Erandur from across the room. He was in the process of drying their dinner dishes, rag still in hand. 

“I haven’t the faintest,” said Nil, setting his tea down and getting to his feet once more.

“Want me to come with you?” Erandur offered. 

“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” 

Nilandur descended the stairs silently, knees soft, his robe shushing across the freshly swept floorboards. He passed through the shop’s backroom and peered cautiously through the peephole. He could make out Aerik’s profile through the blurred glass and the dark night around him. 

“Oh!” He unlatched the lock and opened the door. “Aerik! What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” Because something was wrong. Aerik’s eyes were puffy, his shoulders hunched in an unusual posture. 

“Why’s something gotta be wrong?” his son countered with a forced smirk. “Maybe I just wanted to visit.”

“At this hour?” Nilandur gave him an emploring look, glancing over his shoulder, then back to his son. “Did… you want to come in?” 

Aerik hesitated, and something vulnerable and frightened passed across his expression, before he roughly wiped his nose against his arm and shrugged. “Nah,” he said. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.” 

“No!” Nilandur stepped forward to grab him by the shoulders. “Don’t say that. I’m very happy you’re here! I’m just–you have me a bit worried, is all. Is–” He swallowed the cold lump that had materialized in his throat. “Is everything alright…at home?”

“With Tel?” Aerik let out a watery laugh. “Oh yeah, don’t worry about that. He actually sent me over here. Or, well, he didn’t send me. Gently suggested it. Encouraged.” Aerik looked away with another laugh, his eyes brimming with tears.

“Aerik,” Nilandur said softly, running his thumbs in soothing circles over the front of his shoulders. “Come in, please. I’ll make us some tea.”

“Erandur up?”

“Yes, but we’ll sit down in the shop. Please.” He tugged gently, pulling him forward. “Come.” 

After briefly skittering upstairs to let Erandur know that all was well, that it was just Aerik, and that they’d need some privacy, he’d stolen a quick kiss before nimbly descending the stairs once again. He found Aerik wandering around the darkened storefront, peering aimlessly into ingredient jars.

“It’s kind of spooky in here at night,” he observed. “All these jars full of mystery ingredients.”

“Well, there’s no mystery, Aerik, they’re labeled.”

“Yeah, you know I don’t read.” 

Nilandur huffed a laugh. “That is a bold lie for a bard to tell.”

Aerik just waved a hand at him with a smirk. “So, what’s on the menu?”

Nilandur chose a new blend he’d been working on as their tea for the evening. It had a warming effect—a base of roasted snowberry and crushed dragon’s tongue with an imported spice mixture from Hammerfell—burnt and earthy on the first sip that settled into a lingering sweetness, slightly energizing without causing the jitters. Aerik stared into his cup without taking a sip, bouncing his leg nervously beneath the table. Nilandur waited, taking a sip of his own tea and breathing deeply.

“It’s the, uh…” Aerik began unprompted. “It’s the anniversary of her death. Mom’s.”

Nilandur’s stomach hardened, his fingers tightening imperceptibly around his own tea bowl. “Ah…” he said after a moment of silence stretched between them, thin and delicate like a spider’s thread. “How long–?”

“Seventeen years,” Aerik said before he could finish. 

Nil tucked his lips around his teeth, his gaze falling to the table. 

“I kind of thought,” he continued, his leg still bouncing. “I thought it would get easier as I got older, y’know? But now I’m just–I’m getting closer and closer to the age she was when she–” He hissed through his teeth, clenched his jaw against the crack in his voice. Cleared his throat. “And I just want to talk to her. I just wish I could… talk. Ask her about her life more than I did. About my grandparents. About–” He gestured into the empty air before letting his hand fall against the table with a soft thud. “Anything.”

Nilandur continued his silence, judging his place in this conversation. He was Aerik’s father, yes, but he rarely felt as though he’d properly earned such a title. Empty condolences over the death of a woman he hadn’t seen in over fifty years would ring too hollow. Too practiced. 

“I don’t believe I’ve ever told you about your grandparents on my side, have I?” he began softly, staring down into his tea. “Mostly because they aren’t terribly pleasant.”

“You can if you want,” Aerik said after a loud sniff. “Or not. It’s fine.” 

Nilandur took another quick sip of tea, cleared his throat, then looked up to meet Aerik’s eyes. “I was disowned.” 

Aerik lifted his brows slowly, his expression settling into something both surprised and interested. “You have not mentioned that before.”

Nilandur couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, it’s not a pleasant tale. And after living outside of Summerset for over a century, it’s all painfully ridiculous to look back on. The reasoning for it all, I mean.” 

“And what was the reasoning?” 

Nilandur offered a small, delicate shrug, drumming his fingers lightly on the rim of his tea bowl. “I’m a naturally inquisitive person. I had far too many questions concerning the ever-tightening control the Thalmor had over our lives.”

“And they disowned you for asking too many questions?” Aerik pressed. His leg’s bouncing had slowed to an occasional jiggle and he absently took a sip of his tea. “Oh,” he looked down into the cup, then took another sip, pausing to swish the liquid from cheek to cheek (making Nilandur wince). “Nil, that’s pretty good. That’s really good.”

“Thank you, dear. And, no, they didn’t disown me for asking too many questions. But it practically became an ideological battle field in our household. It escalated to the point of no return when they attempted to destroy my collection of religious books.”

“The Thalmor?”

“No, my parents. My father, specifically. I was quite grown at that point, but unwed, much to their persistent disappointment. So I was living under their roof.” Nilandur sighed. 

“Hey, you really stuck it to them then,” Aerik said with a conspiratorial grin, his tears forgotten. “Knocked up a Nord woman and then bagged yourself a Dunmer husband? So proud of you, pops.” 

Nilandur felt heat creep into his cheeks and ears. “Please don’t say it like that,” he said with a laugh. “You make me sound like some sort of rapscallion. Might I remind you that I spent nearly forty years of my life on an island of monks?” 

“Are the Psijics celebate?” 

Nilandur groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Aerik, please.”

“Kidding, Nil. Lighten up.” He took another sip of tea, leaning back in his chair, his shoulders relaxing. “So, book-snatching. I assume you didn’t let them?”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed over the years that I’m not well-known for my ability to stand up for myself.”

“I’ve noticed, yeah.”

“Well, they found my limit that day.”

Aerik let out a low whistle. “What did you do?” 

“Well, nothing too outlandish. Mostly just loudly protested their actions and forcibly reclaimed my property. I was then given an ultimatum: surrender the contraband and live under their roof, or keep my illicit knowledge and leave.”

“What kind of books were these?” Aerik asked. “Also, can I have some more?” He pushed the tea bowl across the table and pressed his hands together politely. 

“Funny enough, they were rather tame,” Nilandur continued as he refilled Aerik’s cup. “At least by today’s standards. But a few very openly questioned the prevailing dogma that the Thalmor were pushing. So, they were quite illegal.” He laughed self-consciously and handed Aerik the refilled tea bowl. “Illegal knowledge has always been a ridiculous concept to me. Ironically enough, it was the same philosophy that drove me away from the Psijics—this idea of hoarding knowledge, keeping it hidden away under lock and key.”

“You don’t think some knowledge deserves to be kept hidden?” Aerik asked. There was a curious tone to his question—something unsaid—as if he were conducting a test. It gave Nilandur pause. 

“Well… I do believe there is such a thing as dangerous knowledge. And I believe these things work best under the guidance of those who are wise enough to provide it. Take Urag gro-Shub, for instance. He is a Lorekeeper, yes, but he acts as a funnel as opposed to a gate. He can guide students appropriately. Or, at least, he has tried his best over the years.” Nilandur chuckled fondly. “I do hope he’s well.” 

“We’ll have to pay him a visit sometime,” Aerik said with a soft smirk. “It’s been too long since I’ve properly bothered the old geezer.” He heaved a heavy sigh, sitting back in his seat. “Thanks for telling me all that. I like hearing about your past, you know.”

“Well, I did have a point in bringing all that up. We just wandered a little off the path.”

“What point was that, then?”

Nilandur refilled his tea bowl, brow drawn as he prepared to broach the topic once more. “Grief,” he began. “Is more complicated than I think most believe.”

Aerik went still and silent. Nilandur didn’t look up from his cup. 

“I grieve the loss of my parents, though it’s very likely they are both still alive. I grieve what wasn’t there, what could have been. I grieve the pain that they surely endured in their own lives before they ever came together to create me.” He sighed softly through his nose. “And as you said, I expected it to become easier with time. But it does not. I wish that I could tell you that it does. 

“Instead, I find that grief feels more like… the ebb and flow of the sea. There are days when the water is high and you are drowning. You are drowning and you cannot see the shore—there is only wave after wave crashing over your head and the dark, fathomless depths beneath you as you struggle to keep your head above water—to even breathe.

“Then, there are days when the tides recede and you’re left gasping on the beach, shaking and drenched but alive. Surrounded by the wreckage of your grief. But you pick up the scattered pieces along the shoreline and you rebuild. And slowly, eventually, when the tides return, you are better prepared. You become a stronger swimmer, I suppose. But the tides will always come back—that is simply something you must accept about grief. But they will also recede.”

When Nilandur finally looked up, tears had returned to Aerik’s eyes, and he briefly worried that he’d made things worse. Then Aerik cracked a smile. A tear broke free and slid down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away.

“That’s some good stuff, Nil. Ever consider the Bards College? In Solitude? I’m sure you’ve heard of it. I could write you a recommendation.” 

Nilandur laughed, though tears blurred his vision as well. “Yes, I hear your name carries weight there.”

“So,” Aerik said after a moment. “Are you… a strong swimmer?”

Nilandur laughed again—a watery, pathetic sound even to his own ears—and shrugged a little helplessly. “I don’t think so, no. If I’m honest, I feel like I’m drowning most days.”

They both fell silent, each staring into their respective cups. Nilandur swallowed around the tightness in his throat, the weight of his own melancholy threatening to drag him fully beneath the waves in that moment. He came to you for comfort, and you’ve made this about yourself. He took a shaky sip of tea, a tear escaping the corner of his eye before he could stop it.

“Forgive me, Aerik,” he whispered.

Aerik rubbed a hand roughly across his eyes and straightened with a loud sniff. “Whatever it is you’re asking forgiveness for, you’ve got it.” He got to his feet, eyes downcast, but motioned for Nilandur to get up. “C’mon.” 

Nilandur pushed shakily to his feet. “What–” Aerik’s arms were around him before he could finish the sentence, pressing his damp cheek to Nil’s shoulder. His hugs were always just shy of too-tight, but for once Nilandur gladly accepted the crushing embrace, returning it as best he could. Aerik was a large man, though still an inch or so shorter than him. He rested his temple against Aerik’s head, running a hand soothingly up and down his son’s back. 

“I love you so much, Aerik. Always come to me when you need to. Even if I offer terrible support.”

“You offer great support, fuck off,” Aerik replied with choked amusement. 

They pulled away and Nilandur took Aerik’s face into his hands, wiping away the tear tracks. “You look so much like her, you know.” It was a melancholy observation. “And you act like her, Divines help us all. It’s uncanny,” he laughed through the emotion. “She’s alive and well within you.”

Aerik nodded, expression pained but hopeful. “Yeah, I guess that’s how it works.” He put space between them with a cough and an overly expressive stretch. “Well, I think I’ve kept you from your adoring husband for long enough.”

“Oh, please, Aerik. Don’t feel like you have to run off. Would you like to come up and visit for a bit? I can make more of the same tea if you’d like.”

“Nah, it’s late. I should get back to my own adoring husband, though, y’know. He tries to play it cool on the whole ‘adoring’ aspect.”    

Nilandur smiled warmly. “Please give Teldryn my regards.”

He sent Aerik home with a jar of the new tea blend after finally convincing him to come upstairs to say hello to Erandur. Then, after a few more lighthearted farewells, he was on his way back to Breezehome. Nilandur watched him from the upstairs window as he made his way out of the market and down the main thoroughfare. Anxiety gnawed at his nerves, his stomach sour with regret. 

“Love,” came Erandur’s deep rumble from behind him. Warm arms encircled his waist and lips pressed between his shoulders. 

“I don’t know if I helped or made it worse,” Nilandur confessed. 

“You helped.” 

Nilandur turned around and allowed himself to be pulled down for a kiss—soft, reassuring. He let out a shaky breath and forced a smile. “I’ll trust you to tell me the truth.” 

“Always,” Erandur said with a soft laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Nilandur’s ear. 

Nilandur kissed him again. “Thank you.”   

[i-turn-characters-2-warrior-cats]

hallooooo

So I feel like wc dreams has been mentioned a lot so let’s see what his deal is :3

A specific things I’m curious about is the whole dreamon arc if you could expand on it a little

Thanks again and hope you have a nice day :]]

Of course!

(I know some people on this site may have an objection due to recent accusations, so I'm going to say this in the post instead of the tags like I planned: I do not believe myself knowledgeable enough to make a decision about those accusations that I am even semi-confidant in. There's misinformation about both sides, precedent for false accusations against Dream's friends (I'm thinking of the person who falsely accused BBH here), and I doubt that your position on Dream even changed. As I believe in innocent until proven guilty, I will be treating these as if they do not exist until such time that he is proven guilty. I do not know enough to make the decision to treat him as guilty of those accusations).

For Dream, I have a rather unusual name.

Wispfoot.

Wisp is defined as "a small thin or twisted bunch, piece, or amount of something." It also is synonymous with the word "tendril", which is a word that when I think of together with Dream I go "Oh, are you two related?" And "foot" feels simple and fun, and is a reference to the speedrunner vs hunter series!

Wispfoot is strong enough, fast, a good climber, but he has one trait that's very special.

He's got friends on the other side! Wispfoot can communicate with ghosts, and they can communicate with him. This is how he got access to knowledge about reviving, and most of his knowledge actually. A change I'm going to make with WC Ghostbur's revival is that Wispfoot was able to make him permanently visible, so WC Ghostbur trusts him a little more! Heart-wrenching, I know.

He was demoted from leader of HollowClan (thinking of Sleepy Hollow when I named this one) right before he went to prison, with WC Sapnap probably being the one to receive eight lives (Think Sunstar).

I imagine that Dreamons in this universe are simply what the WC DSMP call ghosts who attempt to possess others! I don't know who the Dreamon that possessed Wispfoot was yet (though it would be really, really, really funny if I dragged a canon character into this....especially one who has an influence with my afterlife for kittypets loners and rogues.....but he would have to be really mean to not try and negotiate or something along those lines.........pspspspsp Clear Sky c'mere. Don't know if I'm gonna make that part of the story, but it would be really funny. For reference, Clear Sky is the best parallel the warriors series had to C!Dream.)

I think that Wispfoot's relationship with the ghostly plane is similar to Boarslash's relationship with whoever I decide to make the Patron of War. I'm taking inspiration from the Backrooms here after all, and I've always thought that they are somewhat aware.

That's what gives Wispfoot his skills and ability to bend distances and see ghosts, alongside his natural abilities.

That's it! Thank you for the request, it was a lot of fun! If you have another request or would like elaboration, do contact me again!

[spgothkidsheadcanons]

Can we get some NSFW with Henrietta?

Yes!! I’ve decided to do the NSFW Alphabet once again because I already have them done for the boys, so here’s the girl!

I love Henrietta sm 😩 She’s my queen and I wish more people would request stuff with Henrietta in it. I feel like my poor girl gets no love

Warnings: NSFW obviously, more downbad behavior

~~~~~~~~

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

Henrietta is so extremely sweet with aftercare. She’s massaging sore muscles, getting you water, and cuddling you while you’re coming down from the high. She’s a very attentive partner, so just let her know what you need after a session and she’s immediately going to get it

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

She loves her body completely, she doesn’t have a favorite body part

She also doesn’t have a favorite body part on you. You’re her favorite person in the world, she can’t choose just one thing to settle on.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

It’s messy and she doesn’t really like it. Hence the fact she’s a lesbian 🥴

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

She’s always thinking about sex. Whether it’s her and you, or 2 completely random people, the thought of sex is always on her mind. Of course, she thinks about other things, but in the back of her mind, it’s like an adult movie store backroom

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

She has a lot of experience. She went to college and had a few relationships, so she knows a thing or 2 about what she’s doing.

F= Favorite position

She likes missionary. Kind of boring, but she likes to look into your eyes and study your body while she’s doing her own little thing. Henrietta loves how easy it is to kiss you when you’re face to face with her

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

Henrietta likes to have fun during sex. She’s not telling knock knock jokes, but she does like joking about what she’s doing and loves hearing you laugh and have fun with her

H= Hair (grooming habits)

She’s got the smallest patch of hair shaved into a strip. Henrietta is not a big fan of unruly pubic hair, so the less her partner has the better

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

She’s a romantic through and through. Your comfort and pleasure is her upmost priority, whether it takes 30 minutes to get you to cum or 4 hours. She’s not a huge fan of rough and wild sex

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

She masturbates 3 or 4 times a day. She has an impossibly high sex drive, so when you’re not around, she has to tend to herself quite often

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

She LOVES roleplaying as just about anything.

Exhibitionism is another massive kink

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

Anywhere and everywhere

She really likes car sex. Like after a party and you’re both just winding down from all the drinks, you both end up having sex in the backseat. The rush of possibly being caught just does it for her.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

Spanking, whether giving or receiving, is one of her massive turn ons

She also likes biting

And making out probably does more for her than it should, so make sure you’re ready for sex whenever you try to make out with her

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Anything to do with bodily fluids. She also doesn’t do any kind of bondage. It makes her feel extremely claustrophobic

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

Giving: Loves giving, would spend hours pleasing you with just her mouth if she could

Receiving: PLEASE RETURN THE FAVOR!! Henrietta loves when you go down on her. Even if you’re inexperienced, she’ll coach you through it just because she loves being pampered so much.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

Henrietta likes to take her time. She doesn’t see the point in going buck wild just to feel good, so expect one session to last 2 or 3 hours.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

Quickies don’t really do it for her, so she doesn’t care for them. She will if you beg, but most of the time, it’s a no from her

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

She’s always down to try something new as long as it’s interesting to the both of you.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

She can make one session last for a few hours. She likes overstimulation, so by the time that you both have only had 1 orgasm, you’re more than likely ready for bed because of the length of the session

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

Henrietta does indeed have a few toys. She uses them mostly everytime you’re having sex with her, but not every single time

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

Henrietta is quite the tease. She likes to wind you up until you’re about to be over the edge and then stop completely. She’s really bad about initiating sex, and then walking away to finish doing some task she randomly thought of, just to play with you

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

Henrietta’s definitely not loud at all. She barely talks or moans, which makes you feel like you’re not doing your best, but if you pay closer attention, you’ll hear her gasps and satisfied sighs. She’s just not verbal, so don’t feel bad!

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

She’s a switch with more sub tendencies. When she doms, she does put her heart into it, but she prefers to be the one who lays back and let you do all the work. Unless you don’t want to, then Henrietta is on top and ready to do whatever you please

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

Her outer lips are puffy, with a slight pink tinge. Her inner labia is not very prominent, but not completely hidden, either. She’s got a very pretty vagina, and she knows that.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

Henrietta’s constantly horny. You’d never know because she goes about her life like normal, but if you could see inside of her head, you’ll see that she’s making every scenario in her head dirty. She respects your boundaries and will only have sex if you want to

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

Not quickly at all. After you both have caught your breath, she turns to you and asks if you want to go watch a movie or something

[exaltededge]

@videcoeur

He should have known better. The weather lady said it was the calmest time of the year and to expect a sunny day. When Crocodile saw the grey clouds, he debated bringing an umbrella. His endless optimism made him decide against it. He wanted to believe the weather forecast. After an entire day out and about, he was to meet Mihawk at a restaurant, where they would enjoy fine dining, wine tasting, and the quiet tranquillity of a VIP backroom. Indulging in the finest things was one of his favorite hobbies, one he was, dare he say, glad he could share with another man of class like Mihawk. Unfortunately, he was a sopping wet beast when he reached the restaurant, and so was Mihawk, apparently. They'd both arrived at almost the same time but from different directions. Golden eyes peered at his business partner inquisitively. The white blouse beneath the black coat clung to the other's chest nicely, but he wouldn't be caught dead staring at Mihawk's bosoms. "Should we reschedule?" Curse this small city and its zero means of transportation beside one's legs. That said, he really didn't mind the view of a soaking-wet swordsman.

As inconveniencing as the rain is coming all this way and not drinking would be more bothersome than soaked clothes. Dracule has spent the better part of the day finishing mundane chores and reestablishing contacts before his reluctant rein as warlord; Yoru absent from his back, her size more hinderance outside of battle ... particularly with doors.

"I'd rather not." He sucks his teeth stepping under the restaurant's narrow awning, it doing very little to stop the downpour that's already soaked through his overcoat. Fingers pluck at the translucent fabric of his blouse, unusually bare chest taking the blunt of the water from his long walk across town. The swordsman makes a note to purchase a more robust wardrobe, if this damnable Cross Guild Crocodile wants to build has any life span moving from island to island will take it's toll on his expensive collection.

Eye's slide from his shirt to Crocodile, a single brow arching slightly. "Water will not ruin the rest of my evening, join me if you wish." Shifting his weight forward Dracule climbs the single cobble stone step to the restaurant's opening where he is promptly greeted by a neatly dressed hostess. Inside dark painted brick stands on the far supporting sides, a wooden statement wall resembling a topographic map curves like stacked rivers in the warm, intimate ceiling lights. Tables are simple dressed with several glasses, utensils and grey fabric napkins, guest quietly chatting amongst themselves a few giving him a passing glance. Hands already moving to remove his coat and fold it over a bent arm with his hat then sat atop it.

"Right this way sir, your room has already been stocked with warm towels and coffee."

[iamthewoowoo]

Something cool happened last night.

(Note: Wrote this three days ago and drafted. Decided to post it today.) Today is a boring day, and I need to write something. I need practice. So to pass the time I figured I'd share an anecdote on what I experienced last night. I need to put this in my records anyway. I also wanted to make an introductory post. So I figure I can wrap the two into one that way - a lot of what I write will be like the anecdote below. With that said here's a little bit of background. You can call me Vigil. I'm a polytheist and eclectic magician who really digs chaos magic.

To be honest, I'm not sure what else to put here? Saying anything else makes me feel weird. I'm going to be talking about myself enough.

I just want to say I've been at this for a while, and it's where I picked up how to do what follows. Anyway this anecdote is about an experience I had while I worked on visualization, bordering on full-on astral projection after inducing hypnagogia.

tw: description of death

First off I just want to say: I wasn't alone during all of this, I am a polytheist after all. Due to certain agreements however I'm not at liberty to really write about that. So while I won't be getting into it, I do want to point out I was under protection as I experienced all this. I may have been in the forest, but I had someone lurking in the canopy with a high powered rifle. If it got too far they would have intervened.

Keep that in mind as you read further.

So I was doing some visualization in bed last night, where I basically work on an internal temple through my imagination. Think something akin to a memory palace. However the goal of this practice in particular is to bring on a hypnagogic state, which I've noticed over the years helps with achieving lucidity, or just having more beneficial, occult-y dreams. However it's been a while since I've done this, I'm getting into my mid thirties. When I lay down these days I just want to sleep. But last night I was feeling inspired and wanted to work on the method a little.

So I laid down, got into the proper mindset, and 'awoke' in my temple.

There I worked on moving around and so on. Did some squats. Walked a bit. Tripped and smacked my head on the floor. The usual.

Once I felt good and ready, properly in-sync with the place I was occupying, I decided to check out this library/reading room I used to frequent. While I won't be getting into all that, it's a pretty neat place. Has this kind of Backrooms vibe to it. Very beige and brown and fuckin' weird. It's a circular place lined with shelves of books and a square workspace in the middle with a table and chair. It's like a collective archive of various grimoires, most of which I can't ever seem to read. But I still like to visit and check it out.

So I walk in, and the place was loud. Unusually loud. Typically in the past it's stone silent, but this time it was like a fully loaded cafeteria. Just a bunch of voices talking over one another. I looked around and noticed no one was there though. It was as if the books were talking - or rather repeating all of their contents. Reading themselves aloud in some weird telepathic cacophony. So I muted it. Cause y'know, fuck that. I don't need a cafeterias worth of noise echoing in my head. I took this as a good sign though, it meant I was really melting into that ~mindspace~ if things were reacting dynamically to my presence as opposed to being prompted. Anyway I checked out the desk in the middle, and to me it seemed like there was a grimoire currently in progress of being written. On the table there was an open book that had text scrawled within it, along with reference books strewn out in piles over the rest of the surface. I decided to take a look at the open book but only saw the flash of a sigil, before the text on the pages swirled into nothingness. I guess it didn't want me to read it. Then I decided to check the books on the table. There was one in particular that stuck out to me. It was bound in a red cover, with gold text on the side that was in some kind of imposing, gold font. It almost looked like Latin letters with the roman numeral for 1. followed by a title that was all jumbled. Naturally, I opened the book. Cause I mean - why not? It was right there. In it I saw more text that was mostly jumbled. And then like a train it hit me. Hypnagogia began to kick in. The image of the library in my imagination was kind of blacked out as I had a close-eyed hallucination. It was a bright light, that turned into the sun, and then the image of a humanoid corpse raising itself in front of the light, effectively eclipsing it with its narrow head. Its skin was dry and grey, like all of the moisture had been sucked out of its body. A kind of sickly smoldering light enveloped the space around it. But this thing didn't have human eyes, this ones were vertical slits with two holes underneath where it's nose used to be. Then I could feel it. The descent into sleep, a kind of brain zappy sinking feeling in my head. And I did not want to fall asleep while I was currently enmeshed in whatever business that was. So I refocused once more in that place, and quickly shut the book and threw it back on the pile. Whether it was some cursed bestiary or something else - I was having none of it. I quickly returned to my temple, banished, and then roused myself awake. Ate some food, went out for a smoke, y'know. Put this event to bed by touching grass. All in all I feel like that was a pretty productive session. It's definitely given me an avenue for further exploration, though next time I'd be going in better prepared. So yeah, that's it. I just felt like sharing a neat experience. :-) Anyway here's All My Exes Live In Texas by George Strait.

Stay safe out there.

[antisolanum]

It's a valuable and fascinating question about life's ability to adapt to unusual circumstances. Here, "McDonald's" is being used as an example of a highly specific human-oriented space, but you could consider the well-known "infinite IKEA" SCP or even The Backrooms, although the benefit of the concept of the "infinite McDonald's" is useful because presumably there would be sources of food and water.

For one thing, most herbivores would go extinct very quickly. However, if we take the "infinite IKEA" as a baseline format premise, wherein consumables are "re-stocked" when nobody is looking, then it is possible some herbivores would begin to subsist entirely on kitchen packages of lettuce and pickles and onions.

The question is actually fascinating if you bother to give it the time of day.

[frog-kisser]

game about escaping the backrooms but there's no dumbass monsters or defined "levels". You're placed inside the sprawling yellow halls and given only one task; Escape.

As you wander around looking for clues leading to an exit, a hydration and nutrition bar fade into view, showing you relatively well hydrated and well fed. They fade after a few moments, leaving you with nothing but the vast expanse of rooms and corridors leading seemingly nowhere.

You find empty office rooms. A break room with some food and drink. Hall after hall, unsure if it's somewhere you've been before. After a while, you find a chute leading down. With no better options, you jump in.

More yellow halls. More artificial lights humming quietly above. You continue your search. More barren offices. Another break room, this one devoid of any consumables. The cabinet below the sink opens to reveal a solid yellow wall instead of plumbing.

You wander more. The architecture becomes more bizarre. Support pillars clustered together in tight bundles. Gaps in the walls just large enough to see through. Is that the sound of wind? Is it just the blood in your ears? You can't tell for sure.

More wandering. More unusual structures. Your food and water flash back on screen. Why did they go down so much? You've only been down here for an hour or so.

At least you think.

You stumble across a plain wooden door. There is no knob. You try to peer under the door, but it seems like something is blocking it. A gentle push on the door gives you nothing.

You move on.

In the next room, another door. The knob is at the top center of the door, and the hinges at the bottom. You open it, revealing more empty halls, more fluorescent lighting, but with pristine white tile covering every surface. You cautiously through, taking a few steps forward. Something feels... off. You turn around.

Its a solid, white wall.

Your hunger and water are dangerously low now. You stumble through the bright white halls, your footsteps echoing all around you. You haven't been here that long, right?

Right?

As you continue your blind push forward, you can very distinctly hear wind rushing past you. You follow it, desperately rushing towards its source. It must be freedom. It must be a way out. It has to be.

You find a pitch black room. You're unsure of its size but the walls stretch up and away into the inky black. You feel the wind. It's coming from above you. In a frenzy, you rush into the dark hoping to find something, anything that hints at escape. But there is nothing. You turn around. The light of the hallway is nowhere to be found.

You collapse to your knees and scream.

You keel over to the floor, succumbing to dehydration.

You wake up in the yellow halls again. Your food and thirst are full. You're given one task.

Escape.

[soletlunasims]

Synopsis:

This level is comprised of a rapid changing landscape. While there are 3 locations on this level that feel familiar to the Frontrooms and seem to remain constant, the rest of this level can be extremely dangerous. Dictated by a clock tower that has a clock with no human conception of time, the level changes into various settings or, more accurately, time periods. These settings tend to be familiar to time periods found in the Frontrooms but there is often a mythological element to them. This level varies in danger depending on the space you are ported to due to varying entities and conditions. The rapid changing makes this level extremely disorienting and near impossible to navigate. There is an odd symbolic language written throughout these settings that can be found on pretty much anything from the ground to walls to small objects. The symbols closely resemble Cretan Hieroglyphs. M.E.G. is working diligently to safely explore as much of this level as possible as there is still much to learn.

Current discovered settings include: The Red Isle (Depicted) Acropolis Eternal Desert Twilight Mountains Tartarus

Entities:

Shades- The most prominent entity in Ad Memento, these inky black figures resemble uncanny humanoid figures and will vary in temperament depending on the setting. The weakest of the shades often resemble that of a standard adolescent humanoid. The strongest can be dangerous enough to level buildings in one swing. Intelligence varies from the most simplistic animal-like to that of a standard human. Depending on the setting, several thousand shades can appear on the level. Other times it may be no more than a dozen.

The Automaton- Originally thought to be created specifically for this level by an ancient civilization to maintain the clock tower, M.E.G. has changed the classification to a special (Eta) Class 7 Entity. This entity is made up of metals, pistons and gears. Perhaps one may describe its aesthetic as reminiscent of steampunk. It seems to be very protected by its body which works as an armor for its processor or 'brain'. Once thought to be incapable of thought, the entity is actually far superior in intelligence than even the smartest human beings to ever live. The Automaton has etchings about its body in symbols, when translated, seem to be the Greek and English for 'Time'. This entity is very dangerous. It is stronger than the strongest shade.

Bases, Outposts and Communities:

M.E.G Expeditionary Site 86400- The M.E.G. base dedicated to understanding how time and space works within this level and contributing to how time and space works for the entirety of the backrooms. Made up of 45 researchers who take turns leaving the safe area the base is located at to explore the level itself. Grotto Dwellers- A primitive group of human settlers who live like cavemen in the other two safe areas. They live off of the abundant vegetation of the safe settings when they find themselves able to access them. Though, they haven't been a thriving group since it is estimated that there are only 90 left of the previous 140 accounted for. They are known to be hostile so, contact is not advised. They once worshipped a broken gear dubbed 'The Relic' which came from the clock tower after it broke off some time ago. Thought to be a key to getting to this level's sublevel: Ad Memento.1., M.E.G. is now in possession of this 'idol'.

Entrances:

There is a 1 in 150 chance to come here from any point in the backrooms if the Wanderer is either holding an object related to or thinking about time OR the Minoan civilization. On level 0, finding an unusual wall consisting of cracked marble or another metamorphic rock is known to bring you here if you run into it. The chance of even finding this wall is slim, though. 0.05% of Wanderers ever reported finding this wall.

Exits:

Reaching and interacting with the clock in Ad Memento will bring you back to one of the first nine rooms. Touching the 'Relic' will transport you to sublevel: Ad Memento.1.

Link to the Wikidot:

Ad Memento | Backrooms Wiki | Fandom

[petrified-paracosms]

[NONSENSE] Locations + Layers

TWs: HEAVY Derealization, some horror content, some overall sensitive themes.

Long ramble kinda. A lot less fancy.

First of all, almost all of the locations are based primarily around liminal spaces as a whole, but there's also some other stuff mixed in there. (We're also working on a visual novel with the help of our artist partner doing some art for us).

Please however don't compare this paracosm or anything relating to it in some way backrooms related (We can have a whole rant on why the backrooms makes us angry).

Anyways now into the lore.

The first layer is the simple places, the "makers" or so you could say. This includes: The Factory, The Workshop + The Salon.

The second layer is the layer that's more focused around taking what's already been made and modifying it. This includes: The Playroom, The School, The Circus

(There's some other locations mixed in here but they haven't been properly defined yet so that's for another day.)

The third layer is where the things that have been made and modified, go to be destroyed, recycled if you will. This layer is only made up of the Wastes, which is a testament to how large the Wastes actually are. (There's also many sub-areas of the Wastes but yeah).

*Each location has a "leader" of sorts, but that's for a different post.

For some mini descriptions of the locations:

LAYER 1

The Factory

A cold and unfeeling place. A place where one can always hear the sounds of heavy machinery working away, where the endless bangs and hisses and screeches are never-ending. A thick fog surrounds most of the Factory, and comes and goes a lot like the tide. [Please do not go near the fog.] The air is ever so slightly humid, and it's recommended to keep a dehumidifier within ones rooms. [Don't mess with the mold. Seriously.]

The Salon

The first impression most people have of this place is how contrasting it is to the Factory. [Well it's still very loud.] It's bright and warm, and feels oddly comforting. There's "people" all around - though you aren't too sure you can really call them that. It's much more comfy and relaxing compared to the Factory, but you can't help shake the strange feeling that you're being watched. [Ignore the eyes. Don't look at the eyes. Don't look.]

The Workshop

Oh great. Now you're back to the machines again. It's weird. Despite operating much in the same way as the Factory, it gives off a completely different feeling. The walls feel much more closer, everything feels more close and less spacious, but not in a bad way. [The walls are closing in the walls are closing in the walls...] There's constantly the lingering sound of people working, writing things down, chatting with co-workers, but there's hardly a single person here. [Don't get caught slacking off.]

LAYER 2

The Playroom

Come play! Come play! The children cry, Come play! Come! play! You'll want to stay! They sigh. Come play! Come play! Don't go away! [Don't leave them. Stay. Stay here forever.] "Sorry my bad um... there seems to be an issue with the archive...I'll have to get that fixed later. Where were we?"

The Playroom is a wonderful place. It's bright and colourful, it's cheery and child-like. There are jungle-gyms everywhere [Some of which you think might be a safety hazard.] There are toys scattered around, there's everything that a child could want. Every section is vastly different here, but you can look around anywhere and see that everything feels so familiar. You hear children laugh. You hear children play. You hear children scream, but there really is no one to be seen. It's frighteningly empty here.

The School

It's... a never-ending school. There isn't much more to be said here. The further you walk, the more distorted and unusual things become, but at the end of the day, it's just a school. At the end of the day, the voices that you hear constantly around here aren't real. You feel like you're in school here. Memories come rushing in, both bad and good, and suddenly you have the urge to sit in the corner of the empty classroom and think. And just think. [Don't talk to him.]

The Circus.

Woo boy. This place is ... well it's a location alright. It's quiet when there's no show, and the liveliest place around when there is a performance. It's about what you'd expect. [Don't sneak behind the curtains.]

LAYER ??? (Currently deemed as "3")

The Wastes

Yeah there's no way I'm doing it justice in just this small post - this deserves it's own. It's such a vastly varying space that that's a difficult thing to do.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

End of Record

[swmgsillystuff]

some more jevil related thoughts (and fnaf)

recently i have been thinking about jevil in a five nights at Freddy's scenario. the more i think about it...the more he would really fit into the universe of fnaf. not as a new animatronic.no. but instead one of Afton's earliest creations. i mean hell Afton legit had a jester type animatronic as one of his first creations. i imagine jevil would either take the place of like chica or even funtime freddy. i imagine his hand would either have puppets on them of susie and kris. his face would be a mask that opens up to his endo skeleton. he would have more of a late 80's look to him. but i would imagine kids would not like him. i imagine that's why Afton threw him in a backroom cuz kids found him.... disturbing. i imagine the scariest thing about him would be his eyes...his eyes look oddly realistic as they sit in the dead black sockets. i imagine his animatronic name would be something cool like "the puppet master". he would have his own little stage and everything where he would tell kids stories using his puppets. i imagine he would have the look of those very old puppets they would use in movies like the dark crystal. just creepy and unusual things about him. to be honest i haven't been much interested in five nights at Freddy's until recently after i watched the movie. it has really made me love the games again and the ideas of character's outside the fnaf universe being shoved into that Univers. and jevil is such a good example of what would be good for the franchise. a scary ass 80's jester that creeps kids out. i imagine he wouldn't even be out to kill anyone he would just be there to give you anxiety and stress.