#whizz kid

[finndiseicla]

I was thinking about the popular fan theory that 16 year old fanboy Chris Chibnall's embarrassing appearance complaining about Terror of the Vervoids on live television was possibly the inspiration for the character Whizz Kid in The Greatest Show in the Galaxy.

If that's the case, then does that mean Benni and Vilma from Orphan 55 were based on Pip and Jane Baker?

[kyxhiin]

req by @moonlightcycle571 !!

In one mission the justice league needed to be close-nit but widespread at the same time, and comms were compromised at the place their mission was set in. Batman had the idea to ask John Constantine about any spells that links multiple people's minds together. Everyone's gonna be okay with this cause y'know they know each and others Identities and stuff except for..

Captain Marvel. To escape the fate of telling the JL about his identity he made then believe he was an ageless God who was magic incarnate, it is believable cause it was shown that there's paintings about the suit even dating back to the stone age.

Billy who's just freaking out had to agree to it cause it would've been VERY suspicious if he didn't, but he thought as long as he stayed in the captain Marvel form everything would've been alright..

There they were. Superman, Batman, Wonderwoman, The flash, Green Lantern, Plastic man (For whatever reason), and.. Billy well in the hero form of course. Stood in a room as the chain-smoking exorcist casted some sort of magic thing that will bind their minds together. And it finally happened, they could each here eachothers own thoughts and stuff.

Plastic man: Hey? Who's voice is that??

Crap. He didn't think about the heavenly twitch cha- no, the God's voices.

Flash: ...Is there a little kid in here, what does he mean by God's?

Zeus: !!! They can hear our voices..

A series of gods jumbled into surprise and started to talk, talk ALOT filling up most of their minds.

And that started a chain reaction with the JL they all started questioning each other, Luckily no one payed attention to Captain who put on his best confused face.

Wonderwoman seemed to be in deep thought.. Why was that voice sound so familiar???

Captain, No Billy was now trying to suppress the God's thoughts, he went into a slight panic abut his identity trying not to think of himself. But you know what happens if you don't wanna think about something? You think about it.

Superman: Who's imagining a young boy right now?

Plastic man: Hm.. Isn't that the Fawcett whizz kid? With the radio show? Wait Captain do you have an interview with him later on?

Captain Marvel changing his thoughts "voice" into his hero persona's ones.

Captain: Oh.. Yeah, yeah definitely. I'm just so excited..

Green Lantern: Hey.. Didn't you appear as a guest last time? How come your appearing again?? This is unfair..

Batman: This is not the point. Captain, do you know where the 5 *He closely listened in to his thoughts* no.. 6 new voices come from? (He most definitely knows about Billy's secret identity one way or another.)

Captain Marvel: Haha no..

(Part 1 of 2!)

[denimbex1986]

'Ruth Madeley was five when Whizz Kidz turned her into “Barbie on wheels”.

The charity provided her with a bright pink wheelchair, which her father had been prepared to take a bank loan out to buy. It launched a lifelong friendship that continued even after Madeley became more Doctor Who than Barbie.

“It was so cool-looking,” the 36-year-old actress, who has been on screens recently in the science-fiction drama, recalled this week. “Barbie on wheels. That was all I ever wanted to be. And that was my introduction to the charity.”...

Madeley, who revealed that she had recently become engaged to her childhood friend from Bolton, Joe, did have one worry about her latest role in the Doctor Who specials.

Her character, Shirley Anne Bingham, at one point reveals she has rocket launchers fitted to her wheelchair. “The amount of messages I have had from parents saying, ‘Do you have any idea what my child wants for Christmas now?’ I’m quite worried that Whizz Kidz are going to be constantly asked for guns on their wheelchairs,” she said.

Quite a change from Barbie on wheels.'

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

Roarke’s mom Moria was bannished for getting pregnant with him at 16. she was given the opportunity to put him up for adoption but didn’t want to.

while his Moria kept him she was a horrible mom, constantly on drugs and having men over.

when he was 3 she was with a man who had a 6 year old daughter named Delaney. the man got Moria pregnant and left leaving Delaney behind as well. she got pregnant two more times with Slone and the twins Fiadh (Fia) and Saoirse (seer-sha).

he and Delaney grew up abused in every way and Moria knew and didn’t care. they did their to protect and raise their siblings but because they where kids themselves they couldn’t do everything. Roarke was constantly angry, and would have outbursts at school or at the men his mom would have over,

he had always found Ogres fascinating when he was 13 he created a gang that was just him Ursa and their siblings, called the foundlings which is what Orges call their adoptive children. they wore animal

masks and would steal food from stalls at the market.

When Delaney was 17 she ran off with her adult boyfriend and Roarke just got angrier.

at 14 he had to make a deal with the Neverseen to get food for his siblings, he ended up unknowingly spreading the plauge. when the cure was made he and his siblings became known as plague spreaders, because there was a whole group of people that had done that.

he was 15 when the banished kids where finally allowed to to the new and improved Exilium he immediately became the kid who started fights and would attack the teachers. but he became the protector of the weaker kids and the foundlings started to grow

when Finn (12) was assaulted it was the one thing Roarke (15) wanted to protect him from. Roarke took Ursa (16) with him to track down the man who did it, and it wasn’t hard.

Roarke made him pay for what he did to Finn and they where lucky Ursa was a conjurer because it made getting rid of the body easier.

after that Roarke realized that it was safer for his siblings be anywhere but with Moria so he took them all and went to go live in a abandoned warehouse they were 5, 5, 9, 12, 15. less than a year later Ursa and Ophelia came to live with them because their mom sent them.

they live right outside of a ogre village called Kelv that is unconnected to ravagog because everyone one else hates them for spreading the plague.

he manifests as a Froster at 16 and has horrible control over it. Bora leaves him in the desert as punishment one day and because he’s a froster he gets heat stroke, and is taken back to their hideout. the Orges contact Livvy to help save him and while none of the Foundlings trust her at first she becomes one of the only adults that they actually trust.

Roarke backstory *jazz hands*

Oh damn that's... intense as hell.

This kid needs therapy. Badly. They're literally the perfect targets for the Neverseen I'm thinking bc they've been hurt by the world in like. Every way and basically no one in this supposedly 'perfect' society helped them? Damn.

At least they've got Livvy? One adult is better than no one lol.

The more you tell me the more I want to steal Bora's kneecaps what an awful person jfc

Did they ever meet Tam and Linh? That would've been an interesting conversation...

[craftheaven]

[mustbealoosewire]

Me on the Kanga stand-loader for the first time like-

[downthetubes]

Whizz-Kidz charity and a host of talented artists bring Morph to London

Capital Fun! Morph has taken over the streets of London, thanks to Aardman, leading charity Whizz-Kids, and a host of amazing artists

[screeching-incoherently]

she whiz my boink until i bounce

[yandere-kokeshi]

— His Mate

Pairing || Yandere werewolf! Ghost x gn reader

Summary || Working on a dangerous mission, you and Ghost re-meet after being separated. However, something goes wrong— making Ghost reveal his trust identity and his obsession for you, to come forth.

Warnings || yandere, lycropathy, imprinting(?), and smut: dubcon, gender-neutral genitals, descriptions of the reader having pubic hair, talks about kids, size difference, blood obsession(?), oral (reader receiving), breeding, knotting, and slight somnophilia

It’s a dire situation. 

To the explosions, nearly being hit by a bullet, and now being separated from 141 during the firefight, you’d navigate north to a safe house, rather a cabin dispatched amongst the coms you’d flipped too. 

The language was hardly understandable, but you were able to pick up some words. 

It’s freezing cold, the gush of rain pouring down on you as lightning cracks above your head. Gear soaked through, hair damp and covered in likely blood and mud; if not more. The moisture and ice surrounding you was working to create a deep freeze into your narrow bones, and it’s working– pretty damn well, too. 

Mud splatters your camo-clad shins as you sprint through the forest terrain, heart lurching out of your chest as your soaked fingers fumbled with your gun to the sodden ground.  

The moist and crispy air of midnight caked your face with frozen lids, blood staining your face. Your lungs were burning, legs cramping and stinging from the amount of running you’ve achieved. 

You continue going, thunder rumbling in the clouds above, exhaustion gnaws at your joints as you shoot and cut-throat enemies from behind, their thick blood staining your face, and hands. Creating an emotionless barrier; nothing behind your eyes but annoyance.

If it weren’t for your radio, you’d be pestering Ghost. But due to the stray bullet, that certainly would’ve ripped through your heart if not for the layers of plastic settled over it, you had to count on your distance and not for help.

Just a little more, and you’ll arrive. And from there, you can focus on radioing the team; shooting a private message to Ghost to ensure your safety. He was protective, after all. But, for now, you had too—

Crack. 

Before you could react, chaos erupts — the sounds of trees cracking down as an explosion comes from behind you. The wave of warmth and smell of gunpowder settled into your lungs. A bomb had gone off. 

Panicked voices overlay each other in different languages. The thumps of bodies and flurry of shouts shot you to your very core. Breathing heavily, adrenaline coursing through your veins, you find yourself hiding behind a sturdy tree.

The bark cutting at your palms, a reminder of the unforgiving chaos that surrounds you as you brace for incoming fire. Instantly, you gripped the gun slung behind your shoulder and started reloading it; cursing at yourself for not doing it sooner. 

As it clicked, ready and loaded, someone shouted out a name. 

“Ghost!” someone wails, and your blood runs cold, eyes widening. The whizzing of high-powered bullets persists, dropping mercenaries into the mud beneath them. 

You hear yelled orders, fighters urged to retreat by the incoming deaths, like a poison parade. 

Before you know it, all that’s left is the sound of your ears buzzing, the aftermath of the familiar bomb — the infinite number of trees swaying as more lightning struck ahead of you. Your brain was splattered, focusing on your inner voice instead of the upcoming footsteps. 

“Cobra, come out.”

You hesitate, teeth digging into your bottom lip. But with the thick, British accented voice familiarized to your brain, you eased your head out, clenching your grip on the gun as you checked for any more enemies before your eyes landed on the man itself. His hulking build that you could recognize anywhere. 

You’d be lying if you said you were unperturbed by the sight, fallen enemy combatants surrounded him, his gear covered in blood, as was his skull mask stained with gore. 

It was considered normal — but with the moon outlining his silhouette, the light bouncing off the turbid forest floor behind him, it was intimidating. 

Almost as if it was a warning about what was coming. What was ahead in the future. 

“Price sent me your last coordinates before you went AWOL,” Ghost states, clearing his throat as he bent down. Knees loudly popping as his hand curled around the knife, deepened inside a soldier’s head, and pulled it out with a thick sound. 

The gush of gore, and the slick sound of the knife easily coming out, made you cringe. Your throat tightened, you wanted to gag but stopped yourself as he shot a look at you. 

“Left quite a mess back there,” he added, looking at you with sharpened eyes as he stood back up. His knees popping yet again. His gun shuffled as he wiped the bloody knife onto his pant leg, before putting it back into the original place. 

You forced a smile, shrugging your shoulders playfully, “It’s what I’m best at, no?”

He let out a chuckle, something that wasn’t rare or common to hear. But it was something. Something that left you tingling. 

He stayed quiet and looked at you — almost like he could see, and feel you. Though, he spoke up after noticing your awkward stance.

“Le’s get going, safe house is ahead. From there, I’ll radio Price.”

Staring into the bubbling pan of water settled over the small fire, you relish in warmth that creeps across your chilled body. Still, you’re soaked, the scent of iron and mud assaults your nose, the water that you pick off the fire cautiously heated enough to scrub the blood off your face and hands. 

Though, as you look up at Simon, you quickly notice his demeanor is off; something amiss. Sure, he’s cold. But, he’s colder – brown eyes that are seemingly covered in nothing. Almost like something has taken over him, nothing of him is there; non-exist, and non-recognizable.  

His distant and blocking agency seems somewhat peculiar – lost in thought, intermittently clicking his tongue whilst cleaning his gun. Concerned, you gently approach, offering a caring inquiry: “You okay?” you ask. 

To which, he nods with a grunt. But you didn’t buy it, it was clear something was bothering him. But he’s known for being stubborn and not one to let people in unless necessary. 

Ghost had seated himself in the corner of the large, relatively empty room – looking quite ridiculous. He was attempting to fit himself in the short-legged chair as he was cleaning his weapons, and you had to hold back a laugh. You dipped the dripping rag back into the hot water, dragging it across your skin.

“Y’know…” you started, making him stop before looking up at you. “You can tell me whatever is botherin’ you. I’m not like Johnny.”

“I’m fine.” 

You raised your eyebrow at his reply, making him grunt as a less efficient, threatening way of ‘quit it before I make you’. 

“Are you sure?” You pressed on, “It definitely seems like something is on your mind. And while I may not—”

Ghost said your name in a threatening tone. His brown eyes watching you from beneath the mask. Eyes boring into you, watching you struggle to remove what was left of the grime and gore that failed to wash away. 

You sighed, and puckered out your lips like a duck, “Whatever you say, Mr. Grumpy-pants.” 

Minutes blurred by you, and before you know it, the small fire had set itself out; embers flickering around as that was the only thing keeping you two sane. You groaned, looking behind you the next minute before standing up.

“Going to get more wood,” you say out loud, and Simon had nodded — letting yourself feel a bit more relieved before your hand barely curled at the knob, and it’s when you heard it; the most guttural sound that sounded like a blend of a growl and snarl.

He said your name in a painful whisper. Not your code name– your right name. 

As you turn, you see him on his knees; his large hand grasping his chest. Heart attack? No. Something highly on not happening. But… panic attack?

“Ghost?” you asked, concerned, stepping forward before stopping at his shaking head. He was in pain and it was hurting you.

“Fuck—” he grunted, heaving as his body started to shake violently. “D-on’t come closer.”

Your eyebrows raise automatically, looking at him eerily. “Why can’t I get close to you?”

He grunted, moaning out in pain again, as yet another growl erupted from the bellows of his chest. And before you could say anything else, his holster gun fell from his arm to the floor. The sound of clattering and the smell of aforementioned sensed you to reality. 

“I- we need to get you up, what’s going on—!”

Almost as if the universe tricked you, ripping came next — the man you knew was no longer there. But instead, a hulking black-wolf took his place, boring holes in you and cracking each bone in his skeleton into places. 

Like a Cobra, you stiffened. Ready to attack the friend you once knew. 

“Ghost…?” you confessed, heavy breathing as adrenaline shot through you. By the time you whispered his name, he grew in size. Being too large. Too inhuman. Monstrously. Midnight mass fur grew onto his body, the sounds of bones breaking and reforming, his gear tearing off like nothing as scarred ears, a large snout, and patched fur grew all over him like parasites — paralyzing you like venom. 

You couldn’t fathom his form, taking a few steps back as he whined out in pain; teeth, once human, now becoming a famous creature that you imagined as a myth. 

And these eyes, they were wide and bright as Amber and honey, the color that contrasted greatly through the darkness. They were large and squinted, and the sound of snarling brought you to know you were being threatened.

But yet, you couldn’t do anything. 

His military boots outgrew, rising and shredding apart as the feet he once had, turned into paws with long claws. The curving nails scraped into the wooden floor, snapping of planks and splinters flew around his feet, echoing the noises of his cracking bones and whines of pain. 

It was practically towering over you, all muscle and height, and it made you feel powerless underneath it, trapped under its hardened gaze and intensity of its possible strength.

You let a small gasp out, uneven breaths being snaked out as he licked his chops, rearing back, bending the wooden-planks and the fallen gun underneath his weight. Turning his canine head at your expression. 

“S-imon…?” you whimper, hands shaking as you winced at the bones still cracking. 

His large head came down, eyeing you deeply at one side before walking forward, nudging at your leg. The sound you didn’t want to let out was paralyzed by fear, you didn’t want to let him know you were rather scared, as you watched with no knowledge of what he could do next. 

He left you no room to move, the fear finally choking you of words. And you could only babble out words that would normally leave you embarrassed.

“Who— what… are you?” your gaze turned to him, reminding yourself that your demand was weak. You knew so, but a bigger part of you was buried in denial. He was Ghost. Still is.

His eyes, once cold, a beautiful brown, and stood on deck, now were sharp and bright with yellow, contrasting so strongly against his scarred, ripped fur and inky shades. His head barely grazed the top of the ceiling, his ears flickering as more bones cracked in place. The snapping and crunching was horrifying. 

“Smell– your smell… sweet,” those words fell into your stomach and sank like lead. His whiskered lips and sharp teeth curved around his spotted gums. He growled, smelling– grinning at your feared state, “Mine. You’re mine.” 

Before you could think, your feet kicked his chest backwards — he roared, taking a few steps back from your move. 

Seconds blurred by you, and right as you lunged toward the door beside you, nearly skinning your knees on the floor, you heard a thick snarl from the beast behind you. 

His claws, bigger than your head, were suddenly pinned at your hips and yanked you back, making you face plant onto the floor before he dragged you enough feet away for his satisfaction. Capturing you more into the depth of his hold.

Blood– you tasted it before feeling it, your nose bleeding from the impact, and you groaned; the smell of iron making its way back to you, and he noticed this. 

He turned you right-side up, his claws ripping holes in your clothes. You let a small whimper out, as his large head came to nudge at your shoulder. Almost as if he was trying to calm you, showing he wasn’t a threat.

He whined out, taking your quiet frame and heaving breaths as more fear — apologizing for hurting his beloved. 

And with that, his warm wet and pink tongue suddenly started lapping at your arm, then your neck and finally a rough lick from your jawline up towards your nose. Starting at, licking up the very same blood that’s coming down your face — nearly suffocating you with his rough texture. 

He needed to comfort his mate. His, his, his!

You grimaced at his tongue, the rough black and pink muscle not stopping when you moved side to side, trying to dodge it. Was he now tasting you for taste? 

You pushed at its brawny chest to get some space, but he didn’t listen– his rough tongue continuing his assaults. Behind him, you could see glimpses of a tail swinging strongly behind him; the thick tail slightly wagging at your blood. 

Fuck. What was he going to do? Rut you? Fill you? Mark you? Kill you?

Suddenly, he growled — earning a gasp from you, as you watched his pupils dilate, his tongue coming out to heave; dried blood on his muscle. 

“Don’t mean to scare ya’. Jus’ drivin’ me insane, sweetheart,” he states, licking your jaw one last time before his claws – trying to on being careful – shreds your gear and pants to bits. 

You answered with your frozen stiff body, a long wine erupting from the man above you as your teeth chatted one against each other.

“Let… me go, Simon. Now!” you demanded, but his claw rose from your bruised hip and cocked a sharp nail to your chin, making you look up at him; his golden irises digging holes into your soul. Deepening his animal need for you.

“I jus’ got you, I promise I’ll treat you well.” he purred in your ear, licking yet another strip at your face before making his way down to your sex. 

“Simon–!”

“You’ll be mine, nobody will take you away from me; fill you full of my cum. Mark you, take care of you. Until I’m satisfied.” he said while lifting your lower body up from the ground, grabbing your ankles to set them beside his head, his hot breath shaking you to your core. 

“NO!” you screamed, suddenly snapping back to reality. His ears folded in an angry expression, the sound positively jarring to his sensitive ears. “No– you can’t, no, no! You won’t–!” 

His body was heavy, one paw leaning against your stomach to keep you still. You didn’t even realize you were squirming until he applied more weight, earning you a whine that you didn’t even know you could let out until now. 

“Mine,” he growled, “That’s what you are,” Simon pressed his wide hips forward, making you feel his cock– his long, swelling hot, and erect cock that was awaiting to be stuffed inside you. His knot pulsing, as if it was begging to feel your taut walls clenching around it. 

You shook your head, denying his claims. Denying his appearance. This is a dream, this is a dream. A dream!

But when he tore away your undergarments, flattening his tongue over your fluttering entrance, the sensation caused you to realize —- nothing of this ‘dream’ was fake, but instead of a standing still. 

He stuffs his whole snout into your bush and groans. The feeling is alien, his muzzle warm and wet, and you shudder with it. “You smell divine.”

You attempt to swat him away, but to no avail, he growls at your antics, showing his teeth as a warning.

“Tastes good,” he purrs, his deep and raspy voice shuddering you. He started licking long, broad strokes and making unwanted moans escape your lips — fingers digging into your bruised thighs, and his saliva adding to the sensations. 

You cry out, bucking your hips into his maw as he grunted– licking up all your juices like his last meal. Walls clamp down on his thick tongue, thrusting it in and out of your hole as you’re subjected to the pleasure. 

Though, just as your stomach starts getting warm; your abdomen heating up like a lamp, he pulls away. Making you whine out. 

“M’ make you cum in a few.”

Ghost towers over you — his thick structure showing off his heated, non-sheathed cock. Making you realize what he’s referring to as his swollen tip nudges at your entrance; the pulsing heat making you clench your thighs unintentionally. 

“Won’t fit–! No. Simon—!”

You cried out as he growled in response, his tongue licking your neck to soothe the oncoming pain. It hurts so bad. Yet so good as he fills you so full. 

You prayed he’d be gentle– but you knew better. And in a rough instant, your stomach swelled, and fire consumed you. Air rushed out from your lungs from his thick, girthy cock into your tightening, barely prepped channel, and you quiver in ecstasy at how utterly full you are right now. 

The beast, Simon, grunts and heaves; some of his drool drops on your face as he tries to calm you down with him nudging his head into your face. 

“Oh– fuck,” you whispered, panting as your teeth bit into your bottom lip.

Simon’s thick paw continued to press on your stomach, hitching out breaths as his cock slowly started to piston in and out of you. “You’d look so pretty, filled with my babies. Getting all swollen and full of my cum.”

He smirked– his thick teeth shining in the dim fire, dragging his tongue up your neck.

“Breed– need to breed you,” he gave a harsh thrust, making you feel the thick part of his cock pushing inside. He let you cry out as your legs curled around his lower hips, tightening your hold as he hit that part. 

And without another word, he shoves his cock back out and in, pounding into your soaked hole with animalistic, determination and vigor speed. With Simon being so deep into you, you didn’t even realize you were begging for more, and more. 

“Wa—eugh” you gurgled, smearing your tears against his fur as with each slap of the furry balls on his body, he sank further. His fat cock splits you open and makes a mess of sweat, tears, and drool on the wooden floor of the abandoned shack. 

It’s too much, too much— it’s too good.

Your walls tighten up around him, making him snarl out, bullying his cock into you at a more rapid pace as he pulls away from your neck; grunting in your ear with promises. 

“Fill you with my cum– belly so full. Full of my pups, I promise.” 

As if he didn’t nearly split you in half, he took himself almost out; gripping your hips before turning you on your stomach, making you support yourself on your bruised knees as his claws nicked your skin. 

He spread apart your ass, plunging back inside, and continuing with his animalistic pace; heaving and snarling above you. 

“—plea—god!” your nails scraped at the wood, leaving marks that you didn’t care about. All you cared about was his knot. His, his, his. Everything of his cum. “Fuck–! Knot… Wan’ your knot!” 

You babble nonsense, your body growing tired as his knot was slowly getting bigger– creating delicious friction as it rubbed against your inner walls. But, interrupting your soon-to-be climax was Simon coming down, leaning on your lower back for support as he snarled, aggressively nipping at your shoulder before licking the open wound. 

You were his — his mate, his to claim in every way. 

Without hesitation, he bit on the back of your shoulder. Hard. You cried out, feeling blood trickle down your arm and neck, tears pricking in the corner of your ears. And Simon whined. 

He didn’t mean to do that! He was so out of focus on breeding you, he had hurt you. Comfort. He needs to comfort you.

Simon didn’t stop licking– not until he saw that your tears were long gone, and the smell of fear and shock had gone away. But instead, blinding lust and more was demanded. 

And you could no longer talk, pain lingering, but pleasure buzzing on the edges of your nerves. Numbing every sensation but the beast within you and blanked the world but him, and his inhuman cock stretching you too big. Time didn’t exist. 

Your body grew tense– a white-hot flash washing you whole. Your abdomen was tightening so much it hurt, and then it snapped. And suddenly — everything grew too much. 

You cried out, tears forming out of stimulation, but he wasn’t done. You couldn’t think anymore, and after several moments of his vigorous fucking, he howls– his knot expanding painfully, stretching it to unbeknownst size, and his cock twitches violently as he spills inside, the large load obscene within you. 

The stretching ended with an audible pop, stuffing you completely as he bucked his hips at your squirming. “G—” you stumbled with the start, “G-get out of me!” you tried elbowing him, pleasure growing to a near painful degree before his claws grabbed your bicep gently. 

Then, your stomach felt heavier. It hurts so good, and so hot.

He purred, “Be quiet, honey— m’ filling you real hot.”

He fucks into you for another few, sloppy thrusts before he stops to ‘clean’ you. Nudging you with his wet nose into your neck affectionately, 

You’re a proper mess now. The load of cum feels obscene within you, all warm and sticky. He held you against his taut chest, rumbling in a way that felt like a cat purring; somehow soothing you. 

His thick claw gripped under your chin, forcing you to look at him as he huffed quietly, “I’ll take real good loving care of ya’ and our lil’ pups.” he jostled you somehow deeper to just the right spot, and you whimpered; quite in a state of being fucked raw by a beast who has it’s knot stuck inside you. 

“…are we staying like this?” you asked, looking down, curious and intimidated by the sight below. Mustering some strength, you slid down a tingling hand to support you as Ghost licked your shoulder. 

“For a while, I reckon,” you arched your back as his teeth slithered across your beating pulse. 

Fuck, a single movement by him has you wanting more. But you’re tired. So, so tired. 

You tremble and whimper, feeling his cock still hard — your limbs now coming limp with exhaustion as your eyes roll back into your skull. You’re so tired on Ghost’s monstrously cock that you don't even notice that he lays down with you, cradling your body close to his warm one.

“You’re mine. All mine,” he mutters, feeling your heartbeat succumb to sleep before he starts grinding into your ass. You whined, murmuring something. But he shushes you, making you fall into a blissful sleep as the man, the monster you once knew, keeps rutting into you from behind.

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[frownyalfred]

Would you ever write a fic where Bruce gets deaged (maybe to like young 20s/goes through ages in fits and spurts) and the batfam reacts? Especially one where Bruce is feral/ his skills are underestimated esp at that young age by the kids or delves into how he was when he was younger (and maybe it's not what the batfam expected)? E.g. maybe he sees them training once and pulls off the same move perfectly in a spar one of the kids entertained just to humor him/ he picks up and adapts rlly fast to all the future stuff (e.g. clocks that he's in the future straight away/ is a whizz at using all the gadgets etc.)

Every deaged!Bruce fic has tension between two hilarious observations: oh god, he hasn’t always been like that and oh god, he’s always been like that, hasn’t he?

Maybe he wasn’t always a master tactician or the most talented hand to hand fighter ever. But there are parts of Batman that are so clearly, in hindsight, just Bruce. Bruce before Batman, maybe even before training — a stubbornness and tenacity that can’t be beaten into you, a kind of focus that can be unlocked but cannot be created in someone.

What you’re describing is super cool, I’d love to read it. I’m not sure I have the time to write it right now, but maybe I will!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alexia's Version) VII

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Summary: You get sick again

For matches that aren't important and are played outside of Spain, you don't go with Mami.

You spend time with Olga and Jaume at home and watch Alexia on the tv.

Currently, she's in Germany for a friendly. It had been a good match, a draw that helped the staff work out rotations and different on-pitch chemistry between players.

Now though, Alexia has dipped out of dinner early to give her family a call.

Olga picks up, obviously. It's late in Spain but still a little too early for Olga to be dressed in her pyjamas.

"Hi," Alexia says," How are you? How are the kids?"

Olga gives her a little tight lipped smile. "We've got the case of the sniffles today."

The camera flips to display you and your brother.

Jaume has gotten older now and is developing at an alarming rate to Alexia. You hadn't hit your milestones for ages while Jaume seems to be hitting all of his early.

He's sitting up by himself and babbling and trying to crawl now and Alexia hates how quickly he's growing up.

He's in his pyjamas too, one of your very old train-patterned onesies, and he's sitting right next to you as you run one of your electric trains around the track.

Your hair is messy and sticking upright and your nose is all red and you keep sniffing and wiping at it.

Alexia's eyes dart to Jaume and she notices the red flush to his cheeks.

He sneezes suddenly and it seems to spark you into your own round of sneezes.

Something in Alexia's stomach curdles and she sits upright in bed.

"How bad is it? Are they okay? Have you taken them to the hospital yet?"

Flashes come to Alexia's mind, of that horrible time when you both had meningitis and all the horror that came with it.

"It's just the sniffles," Olga assures her but the swirling of her stomach doesn't stop," And some sore throats. They've had some medicine and we've been having a pj day today."

"I'll come home," Alexia says. She props her phone up on the table and starts packing. She doesn't even fold her clothes, just callously throwing them back into her suitcase.

"Alexia...We're fine here, I promise."

"No." Panic creeps into Alexia's body now, coursing through her veins like adrenaline. "No, I'll come home. It's fine. You can't be expected to take care of two sick kids at once and-"

"Olga?"

Your sweet voice on the phone cuts Alexia off and she falls silent.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"My head hurts."

"Oh, I'm sorry, bambi."

The phone moves until it's propped up on something and Alexia is greeted by the sight of Olga sitting down on the floor, pulling you into her lap.

Her hand immediately goes to check your temperature.

"We've got another hour before I can give you some more medicine," She says," Do you think you can last until them?"

You nod, picking up your controller and making your train whizz around the track again.

Jaume cocks his head to the side, looking between you and Olga before he bum shuffles even closer and attempts to clamber into your lap like you're sitting in Olga's.

It's a sweet scene and Alexia would have loved to coo over it had she not been racked with guilt at leaving while two sickly children were still at home.

She can't even understand how Irene leaves Mateo like this and he was more prone to illness than you and Jaume ever were.

The call lasts for hours and Alexia remains mostly silent.

You get to hold the phone while Olga takes Jaume to bed and you look at the screen with Alexia's face on it with a little frown.

"When are you coming home, Mami?"

You sound so hopeful that Alexia almost bursts into tears that instant, already feeling her throat closing up slightly.

She pushes through the feeling though and replies," Soon, bambi. I'm going to get on a flight as soon as it's your bedtime and I should be home by the time that you wake up."

You sniff though it only serves to make your nose feel even more stuffy. "Mami," You say," Are me and Jaume gonna have to go to hospital? I don't want to see the mean man again."

"No, bambi," Alexia assures you," You're not going to see the mean man. It's just the sniffles. You take your medicine and you'll be completely fine."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Despite Olga's words, Alexia makes her excuses to the staff and gets the first flight back to Barcelona.

It's dark when she gets home and she orders a taxi to bring her right to the doorstep. She fiddles with her keys for a bit, completely missing the keyhole multiple times in her haste to get in.

Jaume's bedroom is first on her way up the stairs so Alexia dips into his room to check on him. He's peacefully asleep, cuddled up with one of the stuffed trains you gave him a few weeks ago.

His cheeks are still a little red and his nose is definitely blocked but apart from that he looks healthy enough and Alexia heads straight into your room.

It's dark so she picks her way through it carefully only to find that you're not in your bed.

You're sick and not in your bed.

Blind panic settles under Alexia's skin as she looks around wildly, tripping over your train track in her hurry to wrench open your wardrobe door.

You're not there either and Alexia stubs her toe as she forces your door open to burst into her own room, intent on telling Olga that someone's broken in and kidnapped you.

"Alexia?" Olga's wide awake, sitting up in bed with a book. "What is it?"

You're lying next to her, fast asleep though you look a tad distressed. Your hand is tight around the fabric of Olga's shirt and you're breathing heavily out of your mouth because your nose is all stuffed up.

"I came home," Alexia says.

"I know," Olga replies," I waited up."

"I checked on Jaume. He looks better."

"He is. They both are. Little miss just needed someone to sleep next to tonight. She was scared the doctor was coming to take her."

Alexia changes quickly, slipping into bed on your other side and curling around you.

"And you swear it's just the sniffles?"

"Just the sniffles," Olga says," They'll be good in a few days."

And you are.

Though Alexia hovers incessantly for almost a week afterwards.

[angelbwrry]

sex for dummies. eren j.

cw 𐙚 kissing, kissing, andddddd more kissing. eren is smart and wants to learn how to fuck, you’re a bimbo cheerleader with experience under your belt who needs help in math!

𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝓃𝑒: 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔

You sit in the stark, colorless classroom, feeling the weight of monotony pressing down on you. The walls are bare, devoid of any inspirational posters or artwork, and the fluorescent lights cast a harsh, uninviting glow over everything. The incessant clicking of a pen behind you riddles you with irritation, each click like a tiny hammer tapping against your skull. You try to focus on the teacher, but his bored voice drones on about the rules of precalculus, and you can't help but tune it out.

Your attention drifts to your pink ringed notebook, its cover already filled with an array of drawings, each one a testament to your boredom. You’ve always been an artist, yet you’ve never had the energy or the opportunity to truly pursue your talents. So here they stay, confined to the pages of this littered notebook. As you sketch, your mind wanders, and you lose yourself in the lines and shapes forming under your pencil.

But the tapping of the pen behind you grows louder, its continuous rhythm grating on your nerves. You try to ignore it, but it becomes impossible, each click pulling you further away from your thoughts. Frustration builds inside you, and you begin to scribble harder, pressing the pencil into the paper with more force than necessary. Suddenly, the lead snaps, breaking the fragile silence you had tried to create.

You whirl around to face the boy behind you, your eyes blazing with anger. "Tap it again and I’ll shove it down your throat," you seethe, your voice low and menacing. The boy looks at you, his eyes wide with terror, and he nods quickly, his hand frozen mid-click. Satisfied, you turn back around.

Mr. Johnson, the math teacher, stands at the front of the classroom, his voice clear as he explained yet another problem. The chalkboard was filled with equations, each symbol meticulously written to illustrate the problems.

"Alright, class," Mr. Johnson said, turning back to face the students, "let's solve this equation together. What do we need to do first?" Hands shot up across the room, but in the back corner, you sat quietly, staring at your notebook. The numbers and letters seemed to blur together, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't make sense of the steps Mr. Johnson was explaining.

"We should rewrite the equation.”

Your ears perked up at the familiar raspy voice. Eren Jaeger, the typical nerd whizz kid. He always wore these rimmed glasses that seemed to be perpetually sliding down his face. You could never get a good look at his face, though, because if his head wasn’t down, his messy raven hair was in his face. He seemed like a shy, reserved nerd.

You’d only spoken to him once or twice, and each time you’d asked to borrow a pencil. Eren effortlessly broke down the problem until it was solved. You envied his brain. Mr. Johnson moved on to the next equation, and your anxiety grew as you found yourself zoning out, probably why your grades were suffering now.

You knew you needed help, but you were too embarrassed to raise your hand and admit you didn't understand. You scribbled in your pink spiraled notebook, trying to make sense of the previous examples, but the more you looked, the more confused you became.

You doodled a picture of Hello Kitty, lip mindlessly caught in your teeth.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and you quickly packed your things, hoping to escape unnoticed. But as you reached the door, Mr. Johnson called out, "Y/N, can I speak with you for a moment?"

Shit.

You froze, your heart pounding. You turned slowly and walked back to Mr. Johnson's desk, avoiding eye contact. Your anxiety spiked as you awaited what he was going to say. Would he threaten to call your parents again, threaten to get you taken off the cheer team? Or would he make you stay back for after-hour tutoring again?

"Uh, yeah sure," you stumbled out nervously, fingers pulling at the edge of your uniform skirt as you averted your eyes to him.

"I noticed you drifting off in class. In order for me to help you, I need you to want to be helped," he sighed, pulling his glasses over his tired face. "I know you're on the team and practice can be weighing with classes. I can talk to your coach—"

"No, no. That's not needed, I swear I'll do better, just please don't talk to coach," you pleaded desperately, her last words playing through your head like a broken record.

If your grades drop any lower, I'll have to suspend you.

He gave you a look; you couldn't tell what kind of look seeing as his face was always stoic. After what seemed like an eternity, he nodded, folding his arms over his chest."Fine, I would suggest pairing up with someone to study over the weekend. We'll have a pop quiz come early Monday morning."

Shit, Monday. How the fuck did he expect you to cram an entire semester of math equations into your head in two damn days? You wanted to throw a fit, but you kept your composure, lips curled tightly in disdain as you nodded your head before spinning on your heels and leaving.

You walked out into the hallway, your mind racing. You needed help, and fast. Just then, you spotted Eren Jaeger, the nerdy guy from your class, at his locker.

"Hey, Eren," you called out, trying to sound as casual as possible.

He looked up, surprised to see you. "Oh, hey... Y/N, right?"

"Yeah, that's me," you said, forcing a smile. "Listen, I need a favor."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "What kind of favor?"

"I need help with math. Like, desperately," you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

"Mr. Johnson said I need to study with someone this weekend or I'm screwed. And I know you're really good at it..."

Eren sighed, closing his locker. "So, you want me to help you? Why should I? You never even talk to me unless you need something."

You bit your lip, feeling a pang of guilt. "I know, and I'm sorry. But I really need this, Eren. I'll do anything. I'll even pay you if that's what it takes."

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "It's not about the money, Y/N. It's about respect. You think just because you're popular, you can use people like me whenever it's convenient for you."

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I don't think that, I swear. I just... I don't know what else to do. Please, Eren. I'm begging you."

He sighed again, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Fine. I'll help you. But not because of the money. Because everyone deserves a second chance. Just... don't make me regret this.Take my number.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you as you typed your number in his phone. "Thank you, Eren. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, grabbing his backpack.

"Meet me at the library after school. And be on time."

"I will, I promise," you said, smiling genuinely for the first time that day. "Thanks again, Eren." As you walked away, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things would turn around after all.

Eren was going to kill you. Not only were you late for your study session, but you were also on babysitting duty. Your parents had dropped it on you at the last minute that they had to attend a dinner for your dad’s boss, seeing as he was trying to get promoted.

"Mom, Dad, I can't babysit tonight! I have a tutoring session with Eren at the library," you protested, your voice rising in frustration.

"Sweetie, this dinner is very important for your father’s career," your mom replied, barely looking up from her phone. "You can miss one study session."

"Are you serious? I can't just cancel on him last minute! And it’s not just one session, it's important," you argued, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

"Enough," your dad said sharply. "We provide everything you need. The least you can do is help out when we ask."

"But you never consider my feelings! You just throw money at me and think it solves everything," you shot back, your voice trembling with anger.

"Watch your tone, young lady," your dad warned, his eyes narrowing. "We expect you to handle this responsibly."

Irritation riddled your body as you watched them pull off in the BMW, leaving you with your hyper eight-year-old sister.

"Fuck," You clenched your fists, feeling the weight of your little sister's expectant eyes on you. It wasn’t just the babysitting; it was everything. The constant disregard for your time, your feelings, your life. They never seemed to care unless it was about them.

All they did was throw money at you, thinking it would make up for their absence, their coldness. They were always so distant, so wrapped up in their own world. It was like you were just an afterthought, a responsibility they had to manage rather than a person they cared about.

Deep down, you resented them for it. For always making you feel like you were second place to their careers, their social lives, their needs.

You were tired of being the one who had to pick up the pieces, who had to be responsible because they couldn’t be bothered. They never listen,you thought bitterly. They never care.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as you turned around to face your little sister. Her big, innocent eyes were filled with curiosity and concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her small hand reaching out to touch yours.

You forced a smile, squeezing her hand gently. "Yeah, I'm fine," you lied, not wanting to burden her with your frustrations.

“Come on, it's time for bed."

She nodded, trusting you completely, and you led her upstairs to her room. The soft glow of her pink nightlight cast a warm, comforting light over the room. You helped her into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin and tucking her in snugly.

"Why are you stressed?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's nothing, really," you reassured her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Just some grown-up stuff. You don't need to worry about it."

She looked up at you with those big, trusting eyes, and you felt a pang of guilt for not being completely honest. But you knew she was too young to understand the complexities of your feelings.

You leaned down and kissed her forehead, smoothing the covers over her small frame. "Sweet dreams, little one," you whispered. "I'll be right here if you need anything."

She smiled sleepily, her eyes already beginning to close. "Goodnight," she murmured.

You watched her for a moment, making sure she was settled before turning off the main light and leaving the room. As you leave the room, you couldn't help but feel a mix of love and frustration. Your sister was so innocent, so unaware of the burdens you carried. But for her sake, you would carry them all.

Your phone buzzes, and you see Eren's name on the screen. You take a deep breath before answering, knowing he's probably annoyed.

"Hey," you say cautiously.

"Where are you?" Eren's voice is sharp. "I'm at the library, and you're not here."

You feel a pang of guilt. "I'm really sorry, Eren. My parents stuck me on babysitting duty last minute. I couldn't leave my little sister alone."

There's a brief silence on the other end, and you can almost feel Eren's frustration through the phone. "Can I come over?" he finally asks.

You hesitate, then offer, "Yes, please. I can even pay you extra for the trouble."

Eren is quiet for a moment, and you hold your breath. "Alright," he says eventually. "I'll be over in twenty."

"Thank you so much, Eren," you say, relief washing over you.

"Yeah, yeah," he replies, trying to sound indifferent but you can sense the concern in his voice. "See you soon."

You hang up, feeling a bit lighter. You glance at your little sister, who's fast asleep, and crack the door to her room slightly, making sure she's still peacefully resting. At least you have someone who understands and is willing to help out.

Twenty minutes later, you hear a knock on the door. You open it to find Eren standing there, looking around in awe. "Wow," he mutters, stepping inside.

“Your house is huge. It looks like a mansion. I think you could fit my house in here three times." Eren says as he steps in, his eyes widen, taking in the high ceilings and elegant decor.Man, this place is massive. He knew you lived well, but this is next level. He shakes his head slightly, trying to hide his amazement. I could probably get lost in here.

You smile sheepishly, a bit embarrassed by the size of your home. "Yeah, it is pretty big. Thanks for coming over, Eren."

Eren nods, still looking around. This is like something out of a movie. I bet she has her own bathroom too.

“No problem," he says, shaking his head as if trying to process the grandeur of your house. You can’t help but stare at him, you’ve never seen him outside of school uniform and it’s hard not to gawk at the tight red compression shirt he’s wearing. His muscles flex underneath it enticingly, your eyes catching ink under his sleeves.His long hair is pulled back and you’re in awe, he’s beautiful.He’s not wearing his glasses tonight, you wonder why,but decide not to pester him.

You notice you’re staring and pull your eyes away,”we’ll study in my room.”

Eren nods,”lead the way.”

Eren tried to fight the way his erection grew as he walked behind you, your round ass in his face. Damn, you look gorgeous. You always looked gorgeous, but like this? It's almost too much.Your hair was pulled into a ponytail, edges laid neatly. The compression shorts you wore had his mind swirling with unholy thoughts, and your shirt was short enough to see your boobs peeking out. God, control yourself, Eren. This is not the time.

And then there was your scent—a perfect mix of cinnamon and vanilla. It was intoxicating, pulling him deeper into his thoughts. You smell so good. He was pulled from his reverie as you pushed open the door to your room. It was just as luxurious as the rest of your house, pink and white themed. Cozy, with pristine tan carpet. The room smelled amazing, and Eren figured you were probably a clean freak, given how spotless everything was. This place is incredible. How do you keep it so perfect?

Eren took a moment to steady himself, trying to focus on anything other than the way you looked and smelled. Get it together, Eren. You're here to help, not to get distracted.But it was easier said than done, and he couldn't help but silently admire you, hoping you wouldn't notice the effect you had on him.

“Geez, is there anything small in this house.” Eren jokes, taking a seat on the bed.You giggle, shutting the door closed before plopping down beside him, ignoring the way your stomach churns when those green eyes look at you.

“My parents are the materialistic type, as you can see.”

He scoffs, yeah no shit.

“I figured out how you can pay me,” Eren finally speaks up, you quip an eyebrow at him.

“Teach me how to have sex,”

You nearly choke on your spit.

“W-what?”

“Like how to kiss a girl and finger her, y’know.Each time we study you’ll teach me a new thing.” He trails off, his olive skin is bright red.

You cross your arms over your shoulder,”what makes you think I’m not a virgin?”

He bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing,”Just the schools drama page has a photo of you folded in the back of Connie’s truck.”

You roll your eyes, God, how embarrassing.Connie was your ex, typical football player, dumber than a damn rock.You really need to pass, and Eren is really cute, you don’t mind taking his virginity. You sigh after a few minutes,”Fine.but don’t go around running your mouth about this.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. He's sitting right in front of you, looking a bit unsure but eager to learn. You smile softly, wanting to make this moment as sweet and memorable as possible.

"Alright, first things first," you say gently, placing your hands on his shoulders. "It's important to relax and just be in the moment. Kissing should feel natural and comfortable." You look into his eyes, trying to convey your confidence and warmth. "Let's start with something simple. Just lean in slowly."

He mirrors your actions, leaning in slightly. You can feel his breath on your lips, and it makes your heart race a little.

"Close your eyes," you whisper, and he does. You do the same, letting the moment envelop you both. The world around you fades, and it's just the two of you, sharing this intimate space.

"Now, just a gentle touch," you instruct, your voice barely above a whisper. You press your lips softly against his, just a light, tender kiss. It's sweet and innocent, and you can feel him relax a bit. You pull back slightly, your eyes fluttering open to meet his.

"See? That's not so hard," you giggle, a playful smile dancing on your lips. He smiles back, looking more confident now.

"Let's try it again, but this time, add a little more pressure," you say, leaning in once more.

As your lips meet again, you guide him with gentle pressure, showing him how to move in sync with you. "Tilt your head a bit," you murmur against his lips, and he follows your lead. The kiss deepens, becoming more natural and fluid. You can feel the connection growing, the rhythm of your movements syncing perfectly.

"Perfect," you say, breaking the kiss and smiling up at him.

"You're a quick learner."

He chuckles, looking both relieved and happy. "Just remember, it's all about the connection. Feel the moment and let it guide you."

You decide to show him a bit more. "Now, let's try something a little different," you say, your voice soft and encouraging.

"When you kiss, you can also use your hands to express how you feel." You gently take his hand and place it on your waist. "See? This can make the kiss feel more intimate."

He nods, his touch tentative but growing bolder. You lean in again, this time letting your hands slide up to his neck, your fingers gently playing with the hair at the nape. The kiss is deeper now, more passionate, yet still tender. You can feel his confidence building with each moment.

"That's it," you whisper as you pull away for a breath. "You're doing amazing." He smiles, his eyes sparkling with newfound assurance.

"One last thing," you add, your tone playful. "Don't be afraid to explore a bit. Kissing can be fun and playful too."

You lean in for one more kiss, this time letting it linger a bit longer. Your lips move together in a dance, sometimes slow and sweet, other times more eager and passionate. It's a perfect blend of emotions, and you can feel the bond between you.

As you pull away, you see the sparkle in his eyes, and you know he's got it. "Thank you," he says softly, his voice filled with gratitude. You smile, feeling a warm glow inside.

"Anytime," you reply, knowing that this is just the beginning.

His face is bright red, dick pressing uncomfortably in his pants.You’d be lying if you said the heat between your legs wasn’t there.He scratches his eyebrow nervously,”we should probably get studying.”

reblogs, comments and likes are highly appreciated! bye🫧

part 2

[percentile98th]

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[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

Estelle Vacker and Auberon Dizznee meet when they are going to foxfire, they start dating when they are about 15-16 keep their relationship secret because Etstelle’s family would have a fit.

Auberon’s twin sister Soreya (who went to Hinterland not Foxfire) didn’t like the idea of her brother dating a Vacker because she was worried that her family might get him banished to get away from Estelle, because that had happened to other people in the past. she ended up telling Oriana (the teacher at Hinterland) who tries to talk Auberon out of dating Estelle because he’s talentless and she’s a telepath and a Vacker.

Auberon wasn’t worried because Estelle knew that she would be disowned and didn’t care, she had insisted that her family would never get him banished and Auberon told Oriana this, but she wasn’t convinced.

he proposed to Estelle when she graduated the Elite levels, her family found out, but instead of threatening to disown her, they said they would get Auberon banished just like his sisters said they would. the treats would also include his family as time went on, but Estelle is convinced that it’s just a bluff and continued with the wedding planing. they thought maybe if Estelle got pregnant with his kid her family would have no choice but to let them get married (they where like 20 and very dumb)

that’s not what happened, when her family caught wind of her pregnancy, they conjured up a lie that not only involved Auburn but Soreya as well, to punish him for wasting her first child. about both of them being involved in questionable activities (idk what they are) and made up proof. getting them both banished and causing Auberon’s entire family to hate Estelle because they saw it as her fault.

Estelle was forced to marry her #1 match not even two months later and everyone around her pretend like it was perfectly normal and like Aubron never existed.

Estelle’s new husband was physically, verbally abusive and controlled every aspect of her life, making it so she couldn’t get out because she had no friends. it’s not like elves believe abuse anyways.

she ended up getting pregnant with his twins and when he found out he was furious and caused her to go into labor early, with the twins the boy Marcel ended up with cerebral palsy while the girl Odette,was fine. Marcel couldn’t walk well and was mute, their father called him it and kept in locked in the house not letting anyone know he had a son. while he acted like Odette was his pride and joy at least in public. if she made any sort of mistake he would berate her and tell her to stop acting like a twin unless she wanted to be locked in the house like her brother.

while Marcel was unable to speak he was just as intelligent as ever other child, and his mom knew this because she got in the habit of having Telepathic conversations with the twins to keep them quiet when their father was home.

when the twins where 11 she got pregnant again and had a little girl named Vivianne but they called her Vivi. when she was four she knocked over her fathers work and he smacked her, the screamed at her for crying before throwing her in her room. Marcel heard her crying and came to comfort her. when Odette came home from school Vivi had a bruise on her face so she didn’t have a hard time figuring out what happened to her baby sister.

the twins stayed with Vivi until she fell asleep and decided that instead of telling their mom who they thought was going through enough as is that they would take matters into their own hands.

they found their father in his office and Odette went inside while Marcel stayed outside. Odette knew she was the favorite and thought maybe he loved her enough to listen to her, and stop hurting them. so Odette asked their father why he hit Vivianne, he told them to leave and when they didn’t he started screaming, it escalated to the point that he threw s decoration off his desk at her and hit her in the head drawing blood and causing her to fall to the ground.

Marcel heard her fall and came in the room as quickly as he could to find her bleeding, he was furious and was done with his father treating them the way he did. Marcel wished that he could make his father hurt in all the ways he had hurt his family, he imagined all the things he would do if he could fight if he was bigger, and how much pain he would put his father though. he would make sure he never hurt his mom or sisters again. the images he imagined almost felt real.

he was snapped out of his thoughts by his mom holding his face and transmitting the words “Marcy Stop” over and over into his mind

he snapped out of it to see he father bleeding and unconscious on the floor, and Odette crying on the floor trying next to him get him to wake up.

while he treated her badly her father still acted like he cared about her at times and unlike Marcel she loved him, and didn’t want him to die. as confusing and conflicted it made her feel

this is all i have written in one place atm but it keeps going (i wanna make this a fic)

HOLY SHIT that's so intense oml ;-; yeah this is exactly the type of 'Vacker Legacy' bullshit that family would try and keep covered up huh-

This is so good though, it really shows the issues with letting families and status have so much power and also provides a really interesting dimension to Dex's early books dislike of Fitz.

I love Estelle, Odette, Vivi, and Marcel ;-; lowkey I think Marcel deserves to kill his dad. As a treat.

How do they get along with Fitz Alvar and Biana? What about the rest of the family - like did they all know about Estelle's husband?

Lmao all my hcs for Vacker cousins were 'they're the most unbearable pieces of shit ever' so this is much better