#will it be good enough for the children? I hope so

[bumblingbabooshka]

I think Sarek and Amanda Grayson both lowkey seeing their children as little experiments in different ways is undeniably bad parenting BUT .... I mean you talk about matching each other's freak .... Like imagine for a second Sarek is like "I am going to show that Humans are just as good as Vulcans by molding this Human child and my half Human son into the perfect Vulcans - This will show that despite what society thinks of as their genetic inferiority, they're just as good as any Vulcan." and Amanda's response to that is to think "Sarek is wrong...Michael's humanity MUST be preserved...so that I can show her all the love and affection I can't show Spock and maybe through their sibling bond all my unspoken and unexpressed love can trickle down to him through her." What are you both DOOOOING!?? You guys are NUTS like PLEASE just TALK to each other and compromise about how you're going to raise your children!! [Love the drama though] So I'm imagining in my head that Sarek is severely pressuring both Spock and Michael to act as perfect Vulcans their entire lives with him or else they're failures not only in his eyes but in all of society's (because he's an ambassador and raising these children is tied irrevocably with his work as such) WHILE Amanda is secretly trying to funnel her humanity and love for Spock through Michael and as such failure to receive, express, or internalize that love is failing not only your mother but also the entire Human race. Damned if you do damned if you don't! Who do you want to disappoint more, kids?

In 'Point of Light' Amanda says that she gave Michael all of the love, joy, and affection which she wasn't "permitted" (we must question the use of the word - what stopped her from directly giving Spock this love? I'm not saying there wasn't pressure for her not to, I'm saying the word 'permitted' absolves her of any personal choice or failing in a way that's interesting to me) to give Spock and though this is on the surface level sweet and probably meant to be interpreted that way, I submit that it must be kind of fucked up to hear that your foster mother was maybe only so kind and caring to you because she felt she wasn't allowed to act that way towards her "real" son. Michael Burnham as a tool for both her parents, however unintentional, is very interesting and I'm not sure it's something canon considers (haven't watched the show, I just like imagining things). The feeling that you have to be grateful to these people for not only being your parents but being YOUR parents. For taking you in and giving you a beautiful life - you have to pay them back, you have to make them especially proud of YOU. Because they didn't HAVE to, did they? Because you're not their "real" child. In the end, it's always Spock - isn't it? The love your mother gives you is Spock's love and if only one child can enter the Vulcan Science Academy then it has to be Spock. You're the appetizer your father serves before the REAL main course and your mother's stuffed doll which represents the thing she REALLY wants to hold and you know they genuinely care about you. That's the worst part. Because you know they care and they didn't mean to hurt you and the voice in the back of your head keeps telling you that any hurt they've dealt you pales in comparison to the debt you owe them and they love you, they love you, they love you, they love you, they love you [repeat as often as need be: remember the debt]

[girl-named-matty]

Little morning - Life after Hogwarts

synopsis ✧ Being a parent wasn't exactly easy and Sebastian found that out the hard way after the birth of his first son--who was now two-years-old and they were also expecting another. But regardless, he loved being a father. But the biggest problem with having a pregnant wife? A little toddler who just so happens to be a big mummy's boy that tries to wake her up at any chance he gets.

tags ✧ Fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, like so much fluff you guys. Talks of pregnancy and babies (ofc), toddlers (thats a warning in itself haha), marriage, just all the domestic cutesy stuff we all love. .

word count ✧ 1.6k

a/n ✧ Just some random cute idea I got and I have been ITCHING to write Seb and Matty as parents. You've probably seen my other posts about their kids when they are older but I really wanted to do some of the younger stuff as well because the baby fever is strong rn and I need a outlet LOL.🥺 Hope you enjoy! xoxo

Sebastian Sallow severely underestimated how difficult being a parent would be and just how much sleep he would lose by being one as well. Sure, he knew kids were difficult, and his wife had told him countless stories of the kids she had nannied or worked with who were difficult, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the real deal.

Little Eleazar was just past two years old by now, and yes, he was an abnormally well-behaved child; he still was a toddler, and well—toddlers did toddler things.

But despite the lack of sleep, the rough days, and the struggle of learning how to be a first-time parent, it was all worth it. They loved their little boy, and they loved him just the way he was.

And apparently it was “so worth” it enough that Matty was now pregnant with their second child. Or at least in Sebastian’s words, it was “so worth” having another. Matty had always wanted a couple of children, so she was up for having a second, but Sebastian was definitely the one who pushed the idea to have another.

Hence why she was now seven months pregnant and dealing with a toddler. But thankfully, Sebastian was a very hands-on and involved dad, and it made it all so much easier. He was an amazing husband and father. (She couldn’t lie and say that wasn’t the reason why she considered a second.)

It was nearing seven am when Sebastian, who was half asleep, heard the little pitter-patter of footsteps nearing the bedroom door. They had moved Ele into a different room a couple of months ago so he could get used to sleeping without Mum and Dad, especially once the new baby was around. But almost every morning, like clockwork, he managed to climb out of his crib and sneak off to Mum and Dad's room.

Sebastian, immediately knowing who it was, sat up and rubbed his eyes. The little footsteps stopped right at the door, which meant the door needed to be opened. Eleazar wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the door handle and turn it, so usually Sebastian would have to do it himself since he was the first one up.

He could practically hear his son pouting on the other side of the door, so he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake up Matty, who was still peacefully sleeping.

He walked over to the door before opening it, looking down at his son. “Well, good morning,” he said, his voice still gravelly.

Eleazar quickly put his hands up, babbling a little to let his dad know that he wanted to be picked up. Sebastian leaned down and grabbed the little boy up in his arms. “You’re two years old; you gotta start using your words, buddy.” He softly encouraged. But it seemed like Ele was too tired to speak anyway since he was rubbing his eyes the moment he was up in his father's arms.

Sebastian sat back down in bed, Eleazar placed in between him and Matty. “If you’re going to be here, you gotta go back to sleep.” He said, trailing his knuckle against his son's chubby cheeks. Of course, he was only saying this to try and get more sleep himself, but when did toddlers ever listen to anybody?

Instead, Eleazar turned around, seeing that his mother was in bed. “Mummy,” he babbled with a big smile, crawling over to where she was sleeping.

Sebastian’s heart almost jumped out of his chest as he had to quickly grab his son and pull him away from his mother in order for him not to wake her up. She definitely needed more sleep. “Wait, wait, no, we can’t go to Mummy right now, okay? Mummy is sleeping.” Sebastian tried to explain.

However, Eleazar did not like being told no. Especially when it came to his mummy. The corner of his lips curled down, forming a little frown, and by the way his little bottom lip quivered, Sebastian could quickly tell that he was going to start crying.

Panicking a little more, Sebastian quickly grabbed the little boy up in his arms. “Hey, hey, it's okay.” He soothed. “We just can’t wake up Mummy right now; she’s resting.”

He knew Eleazar couldn’t understand a lick of what he was saying, but he hoped the tone of his voice would help calm him down. “Mummy is very tired, and she has little brother or sister to deal with too, okay?” He continued. “I can assure you that definitely isn’t easy.” He half mumbled under his breath with a chuckle. But that was more for his own amusement than an explanation.

Ele didn’t cry, but he looked up at his father with his big blue eyes that he had inherited from his mother, a pout still on his face. “Mummy.” He repeated, this time more determined.

Sebastian sighed, shifting to where he was now lying down with the child in his arms. “Mummy is asleep. Which is what you should be doing right now too. You’re still so young to be waking up this early.”

“No.”

Sebastian sighed again. He hated the fact that usually one of the first five words for children was usually no. It was helpful when they could communicate what they wanted, but it also happened to become their favorite word very quickly. Saying no to everything mummy or daddy needed them to do.

“Yes.”

“Mm-hm.” Eleazar shook his head, clearly conveying that he was saying no.

“What am I going to do with you?” He chuckled, pinching his son's cheeks.

But luckily for the both of them, Matty shifted a little, signaling that she was indeed finally awake. Ele quickly looked behind him, seeing his mother begin to wake up. A big smile instantly appeared on his face, and he slipped out of his dad's arms and immediately crawled over to his mother. He was a big mummy’s boy and always wanted to be with her.

When Matty felt two little hands on her arms, she chuckled, opening her eyes. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she said sweetly, the sleep still obvious in her voice.

Eleazar immediately plopped his full body weight onto his mother, giving her a big hug. She laughed, giving him a hug back before sitting up. She looked over at Sebastian and then back down to her son. “Something tells me you’ve been giving your father a little bit of a hard time.” She said, poking her son's little tummy.

“I’ll say,” Sebastian muttered. “Little bugger tried to wake you up the moment he got into bed.”

Matty smiled. “He just loves his mummy,” she cooed, shifting little Ele so she could have him comfortably against her.

Raising a toddler and being pregnant definitely wasn’t easy, but to Matty, it was worth it in the long run. Not all mornings did she wake up as nicely as she did now, but these mornings definitely helped and made up for the bad days.

“Well, thank you for letting me sleep in a little longer.” She said to Sebastian before leaning in for a quick good morning kiss from him. Sebastian smiled into the kiss, enjoying the attention from his wife. Sometimes that was scarce between work and raising a baby, so he was always loving any attention he got from her.

Meanwhile, little Ele was looking at his mother's belly, still wondering what on earth was going on there. It started to frustrate him that he could no longer sit on his mummy’s lap, but he slightly understood the concept of having another new little sibling that was seemingly “in mummy’s tummy” and that it was a baby.

Matty looked down and chuckled. “Say hi to the baby, Ele.” She urged.

Eleazar didn’t say anything, but he did wave, thinking that his little brother or sister could see him do so. Matty giggled a little bit at her son's expression, and she leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. “In just a little bit you’ll have a new brother or sister, and it’s gonna be sooo fun,” she said.

“Sleepless nights and screaming babies are an interesting thing to consider fun.” Sebastian joked sarcastically.

“Remind me whose idea it was to have a second?” Matty said, raising her brow at her husband. She knew he was just joking, but she did like to poke fun at him because, after all, it was his idea to have another baby once Eleazar was a little older.

“It was mine, and I’ll totally own up to that.” He chuckled, pulling his wife close to him. “And I can’t wait to have another. Anything from you is a complete blessing, and I’m lucky to have you and our children.”

Matty smiled and leaned her head against his chest. She had married the right man, that’s for sure. And boy did she love him.

“I hope it’s a girl,” Sebastian mumbled into her neck.

“Don’t want another little boy?” She chuckled, looking at him with a raised brow.

Sebastian shrugged. “I’ll be happy either way. I just want a healthy baby. But since we have a boy already, I think it’d be nice to have a sweet little girl. Beautiful and intelligent, just like her mother.” He said, giving Matty a little squeeze.

“And here I thought you wanted a little mini-you.” Matty said.

“Oh trust me, I do.” Sebastian replied. “But who's to say that a little girl can’t be my mini-me? We can get into all sorts of trouble together.”

“Mhm, right. Not on my watch.” Matty joked with a laugh.

“Worth a shot.” Sebastian grinned.

I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you so much for reading! 🥺❤️

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

We have officially entered another bangers only era for Japanese queer media; I am loving all of these currently airing shows. These are all streaming on Gaga or provided via fansub (feel free to ask if you don’t know where to find them).

Our Youth

This show is killing me with the quiet yearning and the push and pull and Hirukawa's whole entire deal. The way Hirukawa and Minase keep drawing closer together before stepping back. The way they have created their own little bubble in Minase's home, and how they can't be that way together in other spaces. The way Hirukawa is so desperate to be close to Minase and Minase clearly wants it too, but doesn't really understand himself yet and so keeps rejecting it. I was so sad when Hirukawa admitted he provoked his dad on purpose so that Minase would let him back in; I hope Minase will ease off on the barriers from here on out. I know something bad is coming and I just want them to have a little bit of happiness before we get there.

Love is Like a Poison

The battle couple was tested this week as we finally found out Haruto's connection to this case with an assist from the lady restaurant owner, his past as a con artist was revealed to Shiba's employer, and Shiba's boss demanded that he cut ties. I was so very proud of Shiba when he did not waver about what is most important to him, and worried when Haruto took off and left his ring behind. I'm keeping the faith, though; I don't think Haruto is leaving Shiba.

Love in the Air Koi

Okay, first of all, let me get a scream out about that sex scene, because good god did they deliver. Nagumo Shoma is a gift to us all (I will be seeing that back roll in my dreams), and I thought their chemistry now that Rei has figured himself out was fantastic. The whole sequence from the time they left the race track was beautifully shot and performed, and the intimacy felt very real. Aside from the sex, one of the things I like most about this narrative is the belief that a relationship can be the reason you get your life together rather than a distraction from your goals. Rei has all the skills, but he's been lacking focus and drive, and that's exactly what Arashi is giving him. I really liked the way this episode weaved their different subplots together to show them both working toward something, and how their success brought them together in the end. They are good for each other! I also really loved all the Rei and Kai moments in this episode, and that Kai continues to be a perceptive and supportive friend. Kai's own story is coming soon, and we got our first glimpses of it at the end of today's episode. I'm impressed with how this adaptation has streamlined the story to cover every important beat in half the time without ever short changing the relationships.

The Fragrance You Inherit

This week Sakura was reunited with her long lost love via their scheming children, and I loved every minute. My favorite thing about this drama is the relationship writing. Sakura and Toki have such a lovely bond, and I like that he realized after surprising his mom with Mone that it may have been insensitive, and that he cared enough to check in with her about it. Sakura is also a great mom, supportive of his relationship and sensitive to his feelings even as she is grappling with her own shock at this reunion. I also really love that Sakura has such a good friend in Ryosuke (who continues to flag as queer to me). I'm excited to get to know Mone better as an adult and see where the story takes us. You can find the show here, with big thanks as always to @isaksbestpillow for providing English subs.

[thatnonameuser]

You said something about Azul's darling having children healing his childhood trauma. ANGST WARNING!! AND BULLYING!

This gave me an idea, he was bullied for being slow and different from other kids from the original plot. In this yandere au, that can be twisted into how he's such a loser, he'll probably never be good enough for a darling to accept him. He's so fat, not even a kind and pitiful darling, would want him. How the other mers think he's so stupid that he'd fumble trying to catch his darling and that they'll just be claimed by another, cooler, yandere. Laughing at him all the while so and flexing how their wonderful talents and skills would be enough to steal away a darling's heart, unlike him.

I can imagine how much this'll break his self esteem and brand him as a "weak yandere" to the other fishies. Azul would strive to be the opposite of all this, he would plan to take away their special abilities to "win a darling over" and make it his own, as his unique magic forms through sheer spite. He's so jaded and the thoughts of not being good enough to have a darling still ingrained in him. He probably won't fall in love with MC until after his overblot. Having the internal belief that, no darling would want a loser like him.. He probably won't care that MC is a darling at first and is just planning to use her as leverage against the other yanderes. Hence, taking over her only place to live. It benefits him as well since he'll be able to open another branch of the Mostro lounge and attract the other yanderes.

But then something changes. MC does something while they are inside the blot space. He realizes that.. she sees more in him than anyone ever had. Even if MC says so only in passing cause she's reasonably pissed- He can't help but focus on those specific words, ignoring the rest of her rant. Suddenly, he feels whole, and he knows she doesn't want to share this feeling with anyone. Suddenly...

He's already drafting a contract after their visit in the coral sea museum, giggling to himself as he marks that day their first date....

I hope you find this idea as interesting as I did!! I love Azul 😁

I really love asks for the yandereverse, because there are so many ways that the charas’ backstories can change. Azul’s bullying making him insecure when it comes to his darling is perfect, and it kind of works with how the Coral Sea sees yanderes and darlings. I also love Azul, I love me an evil mafia man.

The Coral Sea is an anti-darling rights area, so yanderes have more freedom to do what they want in order to take their darlings for themselves. And yanderes are supposed to be strong and tough, how else do they keep their darlings safe and with them? The kids of the Coral Sea know that well. 

And Azul wasn’t that. He was slow, and weak and a scaredy-catfish crybaby who hid inside a pot. HE was supposed to be a yandere? That was genuinely surprising to nearly all his former classmates. And they made sure he knew that. Their teasing was relentless….

‘Are you sure they weren’t wrong? You’re not supposed to be slow and stupid if you’re like us.’

‘He’ll probably lose his darling.’

‘I’d hate to be them, he’s so fat and icky.’

….And at the same time they rub salt into the wound. After all, they’re fast and strong and smart and talented and good looking. They’ll get their darlings no problem, while he will be left alone and broken hearted watching his darling being with someone else. All the bullying broke him down over a while, he started to think it was right. 

But despite all the bullying, Azul still tries his hardest to stop being the weak yandere his peers deemed him as. And in a form of vengeance, he’ll take away the special abilities they shoved in his face to remind him how inferior he was, After all, the yanderes that bullied him have their own insecurities that they want to hide from their darlings, so he’ll take their very best away to make himself better for his future darling. He’ll make himself better so that whoever he falls for won’t have to be disgusted by him. (While making his bullies as disgusting to their darlings as they said he’d be .)

But… He just can’t forget the years of bullying ingrained into him. What darling would want him? What darling would love him when he’s just a dim-witted octopus? That denial blinds him up till when he finally meets you. 

Once he’s aware of you being a darling he sees the opportunity, not love. (Because he doesn’t deserve you, so why bother?). After all, what would all your yanderes do or pay to have you for themselves? No price is too high when it comes to a darling, and so, getting you under his thumb is his first priority. Getting you out of Ramshackle and under his control/ownership will make this so much easier. But there’s one big problem. 

You won’t sign his contracts. You told him you’d rather never go home than sign one. I imagine after that point, he starts trying to find loopholes to get you to sign. And your friends are his best bet. So he tricks Ace, Deuce and Grim into being indebted to him, so that you’ll feel obligated to help them. But that didn’t work, because (to be honest, you’re grateful for the alone time) you just let them be stuck in a contract with him. Fortunately, Crowley got involved and you had to go into a contract with him. 

But unfortunately, instead of accepting his offer to stay at Octavinelle till the time limit was up, you proceeded to stay over in Savanaclaw. He’d never been more angry before in his life. The idea of you sleeping with and doing seven-only-knows with those beasts never made him more jealous. The smell of Leona Kingscholar on your skin made him want to add onto the debt the prince owed in vengeance. 

But not wanting to spoil anything more, in the blot space your attempts to pull him out of his self-loathing, change him. He sees that you care about him, that you don’t think he’s a not a stupid, ugly octopus and that instead you see him as something more. Someone who’s hardworking, intelligent, and even cute. And that moment, he truly realizes his love for you. You’re not like the others, you see something in him that no one ever had before. He doesn’t get that you’re saying it only for the sake of your, and maybe a little of his, life. Those words echo in his head. You love him, all his bullies were wrong, his darling isn’t disgusted by him. He feels whole….

…..And he doesn’t want to share this feeling. This complete joy.

He needs you to be his. He’ll draft another contract, one intended to make sure no one else will ever be able to steal you from him and ensure you’ll be by his side, on the land and in the sea. The museum will be like a date to him, hearing your kind words about his childhood appearance makes that younger self cry with joy.

You, quite literally, became the center of his world. And he intends to hold that same place as he becomes a part of your world. Whether you like it or not.

[loulovingho]

Rocker and Deacon are out shopping for groceries or whatever and Deacon just subconsciously reaches to hold Rocker's hand or to put his hand on Rocker's waist, while they're talking about something else, and Deacon not letting go even when they bump into someone they know.

Rocker is a little surprised because he remembers how they started off all clandestine and now Deacon is freely showing affection in front of others.

Okay, I saw this and had to write something about it 😩 then it turned into 1000 words! I hope you enjoy!

They've been together, really together, for four months now. No more hiding, no more affair, no more dirty little secret.

Deacon's moved into his own apartment, he's explained everything to the kids, he and Annie are figuring things out through their attorneys.

He and Rocker have even filled out all the proper relationship agreements at work.

All these steps came pretty naturally. They left both Deacon and Rocker feeling more free than they ever had their entire lives. Like a heavy weight had been lifted off of them.

They weren't exactly the most exciting pair. Sure, the sex was incredible, adventurous, sometimes daring, but life was about more than sex.

It was about fixing the broken cabinets in Deacon's apartment, it was dealing with the nightmares Rocker sometimes suffered from, it was making sure they got enough rest to be able to deal with whatever happened at work the next day.

It was figuring out who they were as a couple, all the things they liked and all the things they hated. It was laughing together, fighting together, helping each other, holding each other.

It was dealing with grocery shopping for two households on a Saturday afternoon.

“We should have gotten two carts.”

“You really want to try and maneuver two carts down every aisle through all these people?”

Deacon managed to step out of the way just before a lady could ram him with her cart. He sighed. “No. I just want to be done with this.”

“We just gotta get some breakfast foods for your place and we'll be finished.” He waved Deacon along. “Scoot scoot.”

With an eye roll, he turned and headed for the next aisle, Rocker following behind with the cart.

Deacon grabbed up a box of Fruity Pebbles and placed it on the side that had all his items, stopping with he noticed the look Rocker gave him.

“What?”

“That for you?” Rocker asked.

“Do I look like a Fruity Pebbles kinda guy to you?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

Deacon glared at him. “They're for the kids, Donovan. It's their favorite.”

Rocker shook his head, pushing the cart forward to get out of another man's way.

“What? What is that?” Deacon asked. “Why are you shaking your head?”

“They don't like Fruity Pebbles anymore.”

“Yes they do.”

“No they don't.”

“Yes, they- How would you know?”

“The last time they came over,” Rocker explained, “Lila mentioned that Samuel threw up Fruity Pebbles in the car and now none of the kids can handle the smell.”

Deacon picked up the box. “No Fruity Pebbles then,” he said, placing it back on the shelf. After letting three people pass between them, he moved back over to Rocker's side.

“Should I be offended that you know my children better than I do?” he questioned, wrapping an arm around Rocker's waist as they continued down the aisle.

Rocker smiled. “Well, technically you were in the shower when they told me, so...”

“Oh, the truth comes out,” Deacon said with a laugh. “You were just gonna let me think I should know this information?”

Rocker shrugged as they turned the corner. “It's fun to see you squirm sometimes.”

“Oh, you're gonna be doing some sq-”

“David!”

A woman's voice had Rocker and Deacon turning their heads to the side.

“Mrs. Chase!” Deacon greeted, smiling brightly at the older woman. “Good to see you!”

“You too. Busy day in here today, isn't it?”

“That's what we were saying,” Deacon answered, giving Rocker a pat on his side before resting his hand back on the same spot.

It was a little thing, and Rocker knew he should be used to it by now, but he wasn't. They'd spent over a year hiding. Making sure no one saw a touch, a glance, heard an unprofessional word. They'd once driven an hour out of town to go out to dinner somewhere that they knew no one would know them. And even then, Deacon had to be sitting so he could face the entire restaurant, just in case someone were to enter that he recognized.

Now though, with this woman that Deacon knew but Rocker had never seen before, his hand remained just above his hip.

“Mrs. Chase, this is my boyfriend, Donovan Rocker,” Deacon introduced. “He goes by Rocker though.”

And damn, that still felt new too.

Boyfriend.

Not acquaintance.

Not co-worker.

Not friend.

Boyfriend.

It might seem a little juvenile to some, using the word boyfriend when the two of them were in their forties and fifties, but in their line of work “partner” could mean many things. So, boyfriend it was.

Deacon gave Rocker's waist a little squeeze, “Donny, this is Mrs. Chase from my old church. Makes the best pies in the world.”

Rocker smiled, reaching out to give her hand a shake. “Nice to meet you, Ma'am, I've actually heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, my,” she replied with a little giggle, shaking his hand as a blush rose on her cheeks. “You're very handsome.”

“You're very sweet.”

She looked over at Deacon once she let go of Rocker's hand. “A lot of us have missed you at church, David.”

“I miss some of you guys too, it's just... that's Annie's place to go now. It wouldn't be fair to her.”

He left out the part of the news spreading like wildfire as soon as he and Annie filed for divorce. How the rumors had gotten so bad that the priest had called and asked him to not return. It wasn't like he was going to anyway, but that definitely put the final nail in the coffin.

Mrs. Chase nodded, her facial expression remaining soft, nonjudgmental. “Well, you have my number still, don't you?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Good. Use it. Call me soon and I'll bring you a couple of my pies.” She looked back at Rocker. “You like cherry?”

“Love it.”

“Good. I better get going. It was good seeing you, David, and nice meeting you, Rocker.”

After saying their goodbye's, they started down the next aisle.

Using one hand to steer the cart, Rocker wrapped the other around Deacon's shoulder, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Can we get out of here now?” Deacon asked, gripping onto Rocker's shirt with his hand as they passed a group of very loud tourists.

“Breakfast foods,” Rocker reminded him.

Deacon dropped his head down. “Damn it.”

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet + ch 45

a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

45. halcyon daze

With Christmas on the horizon you take a break from your Persephone-inspired series to work on a present for John. There’s not a thing in the world you could buy him that he couldn’t buy for himself; but you have two hands, some talent and creativity: things that can’t yet be bought on Amazon. You’d noticed that he’s been working on an old set of Russian Fairytales. 

It still never fails to destroy your heart, that John favors mending the binding of children’s stories, as though he can recapture and sew back together some aspect of his own broken youth. 

Some of the illustrations in this edition are faded, one is even half destroyed, the paper torn. The writing is in cyrillic, you haven’t learned to read it yet, but with some [you hope] casually peppered questions, you manage to glean enough information to look up what they’re supposed to be. You make some replacements for him, and in the case of the Knight of Night in the story of Vasilisa the Beautiful, the warrior in black might bear more than a passing resemblance to your own dark assassin.  

When he opens this gift the wonder in his eyes is priceless to you. “I didn’t make you anything,” he apologizes guiltily, and while you are sitting amidst the piles of your freshly bestowed loot, which you still can’t help but feel guilty about. He bought you a stylish new motorcycle jacket, a fresh set of artist series gouache tubes and paper, an antique gold art nouveau lavalier necklace in the form of a flowing narcissus flower with glowing enameled accents and a dangling pearl –you are filled with so much love you fear your heart might burst.

You crawl across the floor, into his lap. He barely has time to set the drawings aside before your mouth is on his, and you are toppling him back almost into the Christmas tree with your ardor. By the time you are finished with him, you’re pretty sure he knows how happy he makes you, but just in case you tell him for good measure. “I love you more than I know how to say.” 

***

As winter drags on you look to John’s in-house gym to get exercise, even though you despise running on the treadmill. You feel like a hamster, jogging your ass off to nowhere. You try to keep up with your yoga practice, though you rarely get to finish a session. Somehow, John always manages to time walking in on you when you have your ass in the air. “Have mercy, I’m only a man,” he teases you, like this is an excuse for toppling you over and pinning you down with his body and his mouth on yours. 

It’s hard to get too mad about it, considering. 

You suppose you do still get a stretch and a workout, not to mention a belly laugh, in the end. 

Continuing your training stays interesting, although he wasn’t lying before when he said he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you. More often than not when you spar, you end up fucking on the floor. He’s never more beautiful than when his dark eyes glitter with anticipation of the hunt; you’ve learned a lot, but you know you stand zero chance against him. 

Maybe it’s not fair, when he loses patience and uses his experience and his size to put you down on the ground, sweeping your legs or twisting your arm behind you while he pulls down your leggings, baring your ass to the room. But he finds you soaking wet every time he claims his prize, guiding himself inside you, your growls quickly turning to moans for the way he fills you up and takes you down. “I fucking love it when you fight me,” he admits breathlessly, thrusting until you both cum loudly, your face pressed into the rubber floor.

It’s a game you love to lose.   

***

Winter starts to thaw, and you have cabin fever, ready to go outside. John is engrossed in a binding project: you finished your illustrations, and now he seems just as engaged in his side of the collaboration as you were yours. You find him smiling at a rendition of Dog as Cerberus with three heads when you pop into his workshop. “Want to go for a hike?”

He looks around at the mess he’s made on his worktable. “I’m not at a good stopping point,” he admits, and you understand that perfectly well. “You can go, just don’t be gone too long, alright?”

He could have pushed you over with a feather, you are so surprised to receive this clearance for a solo trek. 

You kiss him on the cheek in thanks. “I’ll be back soon,” you promise, still hardly able to believe your luck. 

“Y/n?” he calls as you’re at the door. “Take Dog?”

“I’m going too far for him.” Long walks hurt his paws.

“Then take your pistol.” You nod before disappearing up the stairs. Once upon a time, the thought of going around casually armed would have seemed like pure insanity to you. Now it’s simply a fact of life. You don’t have an official license for concealed carry, but after your intensive training at the Continental you feel perfectly confident that you won’t shoot anyone–unless you mean to. You live in John’s world now: survive first, worry about getting caught later…and pay off the appropriate officials if you have to.

That’s just the thug life, you suppose. 

The air outside is crisp and fresh, leaves and pine needles perfuming the woods in a way that intoxicates you more than any man-made scent. You take off down the trail at a brisk pace, feeling like you have wings on your feet. Knowing you could walk for miles and miles in this mood, you set a timer on your phone so you don’t forget yourself. Scaring John after he’s given you this confidence will not bode well for the future. Once upon a time such a leash would have chafed, but now you understand so much better what his fears are rooted in. You’ve peered into the darkness behind the curtain; there’s no going back. 

It’s the middle of the day in the middle of the week and you haven’t seen a soul, and on such a fine day as this, it is easy to forget that there’s a bustling, seething world of human strife out there. Or so you imagine, as you are sitting on the outcrop of your favorite overlook, your feet dangling out over oblivion. Yet, when you think you hear voices coming up the trail a sudden instinct kicks in to hide, to avoid being seen. Without really even thinking about it you tip yourself off the ledge, grabbing a branch of an ancient tree growing out of the rocks to break your fall, and dropping down to conceal yourself flat upon a narrow ledge.

“Dude, where’d she go?” you hear from above, your heart pounding in your chest, the blocky hardness of your little Beretta pressing into the small of your back as you lean against the stone face of the cliff a reassuring comfort. You realize then that John is not the only one with a residual paranoia from your misadventures. As you listen to the obviously harmless hikers above, you feel utterly ridiculous, and you wait for them to go so that you can make your way back in peace. 

Maybe it’s good to be alert, but at what point does one just have to get on with one’s life? If you live like a paranoid little rat scurrying around out of sight, then Dante has won in a different way. You think about this a lot, as you make your way home up the mountain. 

***

Perhaps it’s fitting, that with the renewal of spring all around you, John finishes the binding of your book. He calls you into the basement to inspect his workmanship, standing behind you as you behold the finished tome. The cover is embossed black leather with gold leaf. There is no title, just a design of an upturned skull grown through with blooming narcissus flowers. Slowly, you flip through the pages, enchanted with how he transformed your loose paintings into something so refined. 

“I love it,” you tell him, caressing a page bearing his likeness, the God of Death embracing his consort (that may bear a passing resemblance to you) in a Klimt-esque kiss. He nuzzles into your neck, kissing behind your ear. “But you didn’t sign it,” you complain, noting the lack of his usual This Book was Bound by John Wick plate. 

“I thought…we could do it together, as a wedding present?” he offers. You realize he means signing it with your joined name, and maybe it’s silly, but the thought makes your belly erupt into butterflies. You haven’t really talked about the wedding much. Though you wear the ring happily, he hasn’t really mentioned it at all, giving you space or otherwise occupied, you’re not entirely sure. 

“I would love that,” you agree, tilting your head for a kiss. His fingers dig into your hips as it deepens, a low moan called up from his throat. 

“Have you thought about what you might like?” he asks, kissing your neck again, his hands slipping under your shirt. 

“I don’t want anything fancy,” you admit breathlessly. “All I want is you.” You find the thought of bringing your dysfunctional family together in celebration only inspires anxiety. You have no lasting affiliations with any church–you do not feel the need to seek any god’s blessing of your union. You find you are just ready for it to be so. 

You feel him pause behind you, letting out a shuddering sigh. You wonder if he’s thinking about the journey you’ve taken, to get where you are today, together. You certainly are, looking at your book, and the allegory it tells of your tumultuous courtship. It wasn’t easy, and you can’t say anything so trite as you knew it would turn out–but you realize you did have the naivety to hope. For once…maybe your forgiving nature has finally paid off for you. You feel like you’ve been living in a halcyon daze, you are so happy. You hope it never changes, even if deep down you know it will. 

Change is the only certainty we’re ever afforded.

“Surely you want something nicer than a trip to the courthouse,” he pries, certain there’s something you’re not telling him. You do still feel embarrassed sometimes, about spending his money on things, even though he gives you free reign with unparallelled generosity. 

“I really don't want a big ceremony,” you assure him. “But…would you like it, if Winston married us?”

John huffs behind you, and you hear the smile in his voice. “I'm not sure that's something he does.”

You giggle at the thought, and you can tell John at least likes the idea of his father figure–one of his few remaining friends, being there. And, you like Winston too. “I bet he’d do it for you, John.”

“Hmm. We’ll think on that.”

It’s not a no.

“You know what I do want?” you pose, turning a page of your new book.This illustration is a rather explicit one, Death kneeling at her feet with his face buried in her pussy, her back bowed in sweet agony, the dark waters of the river Styx glittering behind them. He offered her the most exquisite pleasures, but withheld release unless she agreed to be his forever. Though deep in her heart she knew she loved him immeasurably, still she refused.

Neither John nor you are immune to the effect of perusing this pornographic work together; his long fingers dip into the waistband of your jeans, his fingertips just nearly caressing your mound.   

“Anything,” he tells you, nibbling at your ear. It takes you a moment to remember what you were talking about, your clit throbbing in answer to his seeking fingers and his other hand up your shirt. As a result your answer comes in breathy bursts. 

“I want…to go on an adventure with you. A long honeymoon,” you tell him, writhing against him as his hand finds your breast, toying with the taut peak of your nipple. You know he likes to travel as much as you do. Wouldn’t it be novel to go somewhere and not even need to assassinate someone in the interim?

You feel him chuckle behind you, more than hear it. “I might have guessed. Where do you want to go?” He asks you this while his fingers tease your curls, so close to touching you where you need him most. You are past shame, when your voice cracks. 

“Where can we go?” You assume most of Europe is off the table these days. 

“Hmm. You still have a yen for South America?” 

You nod, and he laughs again, though he catches your mouth in a tooth-counting kiss before you can answer–ie defend yourself from the usual allegations. At last his middle finger dips into your wet slit, and the sound of relief that escapes you is barely human.  

“Young lady…” he growls, nipping at your ear. “This is quite a dirty little book you’ve drawn. Do you know how many times I had to come find you while I was working on this?” You moan as he swipes up your juices, finally circling your clit as his other hand dips into your bra. You feel his erection straining against the curve of your bottom; you press yourself back against him, wanting what’s yours. Your answer is part laughter, part moan–for the umpteenth time, you feel like life is perfect with this man. 

“Probably as often as I had to come find you while drawing it,” you answer cheekily, arching back to hold his neck, opening yourself completely to him. Your knees threaten to buckle as he touches you, but soon you find yourself bent over his table, his corded forearms braced like columns on either side of you as he fucks you silly amidst the smell of old books, leather, and binding glue.  

It really doesn’t get any better than this.

***

When warmer weather comes you start to take out the bikes again. After a few outings you feel sufficiently refreshed, and more than ready to take your test. You make your appointment for next week, and you feel like a teenager again, full of nervous energy for the impending exam. John finds this amusing. “You can ride, sweetheart. And if you fail, you can just take it again.” 

But the perfectionist academic in you wants to ace it on the first go. When you express the desire to go for a practice ride while John is working on a new project he nods, not even looking up from his worktable. “Be careful.” 

“Take your pistol. I know,” you tease. This has become a broken record between you two–remembering a time when he wouldn’t have dreamed of letting you out of his sight, you do not mind. He narrows his eyes at you playfully, before letting you off with that slight smile that still squeezes your heart in your chest. 

You gear up in your kevlar jeans, boots and jacket, gloves and helmet. Concealed carry is ridiculously easy, with such bulk about you. You feel a bit like a commando, every time you put on the jacket with its armored panels. You fire up the Kawasaki and potter down the driveway. You like this bike, it’s been great to learn on, but John has been teasing you about an upgrade if you’re a good girl. 

Considering you feel where he’s been inside you every time you sit down, you’re pretty sure you’re meeting the requirements. You think about this with a smile as you hit a straightaway, and let the machine open up beneath you. 

It really is the closest you can get to flying on the ground. 

Exhilarated, maybe even feeling a little cocky, you make your loop of the mountain roads and then decide to make a quick stop down in town. You’ve worn out your three favorite paint brushes, the chisel tip, the angle shader, and the tiny 3/0 you favor for small details. Mr. Morton will get you squared away. 

You park in the lot behind the art store, and carry your helmet inside. You don’t dally long, even though the smell of oil paint and linseed oil inside the little store is a marvelous thing. You chat with Mr. Morton, pet the shop cat, and tuck your score into your inside pocket before walking back out to the parking lot. 

It’s totally cliché, but the rest goes by in a blur. 

A black SUV rolls up beside you, screeching on its brakes, a man jumping out of the backseat making a B line for you. Too late, you realize your rookie mistake. Your jacket is zipped up to your chin–you can’t draw your pistol under your arm in time. But you have your helmet in your hand, and without hesitation, you introduce it to his face as hard as you can. 

“At least offer a girl some candy first, asshole!”

The driver spills out next, cursing and trying to grab you, dodging your second swing with the helmet. You side-step him, but he manages to snag your jacket. Rather than pull against his hold you let him drag you to him, meeting his groin dead-on with your knee. As he crumples you hit him in the face with your armored elbow, and run for your bike while shoving your helmet onto your head. 

Maybe you should have run back to the shop, to the thoroughfare, to the safety of witnesses. But all you can think in that moment is that John might need you. You have a terrible feeling that something bad could be happening at home, and so you start your bike and tear off faster and more recklessly than you ever have before. The handlebars wobble in your haste but you manage to get a hold of the machine, concentrating on working the clutch and the gears to pick up speed as fast as you can. If you look back, you know you’ll crash. You run a stop sign, veering around a car by the skin of your teeth, leaving the sound of screeching wheels and honking horns behind you.  

Out of town, you drop a gear and take off like a rocket up the mountain, passing cars where you definitely shouldn’t. I’m coming, John. Maybe it’s ridiculous. How much help could you possibly be to John Wick? But you won’t rest until you set eyes on him again. 

Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised, when the G Wagon roars up next to you again. In your peripheral you see the passenger in the window, his extended arm, the blocky black shape of a gun. They veer at you, trying to run you off the road. You brake the bike, letting them whip past you, nearly going off the pavement themselves in the confusion. You decide to turn off onto a sideroad, a winding death-trap of a paved goat trail that you know like the back of your hand, though you’ve never ridden it before, only drove. You hope you’ll lose them in the snarl of tight curves. It will take longer to get home, but if worse comes to worse maybe you can abandon the bike and lose them in the trees. 

Home turf advantage, you tell yourself, not entirely convinced. These guys mean business–and you’re fairly sure the driver’s accent was Italian. 

You don’t really hear it past the roar of your engine and your heartbeat in your ears, when they come up behind you. You do hear the shot, and you flinch, ducking low to make yourself a smaller target. But he wasn’t aiming for you. 

He was aiming for your tire, and when it blows the bike goes wild–and you really get to experience flying.

It’s almost exhilarating, sailing through the air, until you hit the pavement hard, skidding across the unforgiving asphalt, rolling to take some of the momentum. You lay there on the tarmac, alive, but completely stunned. You tell yourself to get up–but your body doesn’t listen. You see the shadow of a man over you. It’s Helmet Man–his face is a mask of blood; it looks like you broke his nose, and he’s pissed about it.

He kicks you in the side before shoving a needle through your jeans, into the meat of your butt. On the verge of puking in your helmet, the world swims, then goes black.

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

*author's note: Full credit to @discoscoob for suggesting that Winston should officiate, I love it, you're brilliant! 😘 And the yoga scene is totally @treedaddymcpuffpuff 's fault. I love our unhinged conversations boo 🤣 The Brain Rot would not be so strong or so FUN without you!❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ :)))))))))))))))))

**maybe i should also add that certain eXplicit panels in the BRZRKR Bloodlines comic inspired a great deal of this dumpster fire 🥵🤣🤣, y'all should definitely check it out, the artwork is great!

--------------- 

all chapters

[yallmakemyassitch]

The Shoe Store (⁠ﾉ⁠≧⁠∇⁠≦⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠ 👠

Summary: A grumpy Elizabeth learns how to smile after her bad attitude at the shops today! And Mrs. Mulberry knows just what to do to whip her daughter into shape...

Word count: 4893

Tobi talks: Finally got around to finishing this as promised! This took a long time, but I grinded today to get this finished :3 Either way, I'm very happy with the results and I hope you are as well. The art was an art trade done by @ntj2pj, please go follow him, he's very talented! Either way, have a good weekend!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60765493

“But mummy, I don’t wanna gooooo!”

A little girl wailed dramatically, being dragged by the wrist. Her loud complaint got an annoyed sigh from her mother. The Mulberry was fighting with her body weight as Elizabeth defiantly tugged back to slow their journey.

The 8-year-old made surprising progress against slowing the over-40-year-old woman. The sound of her heels scraping against the ground made the British woman cringe. Her doing that was one of the multitude of reasons they were here in the first place!

“I know, Eliza, but we both know you need new shoes!” Her mother argued, looking down at her whining child for a split second. She felt momentary relief cascade over her psyche as the duo neared the revolving doors of the luxury shoe store.

Mrs. Mulberry felt the harsh tug of a ‘certain child’ pulling at her arm, which abruptly stopped them for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Elizabeth had burrowed her feet into the ground below, halting their approach into the dreaded shop.

Heather had had enough and whipped around, glaring softly down at her daughter, “Elizabeth Mulberry, behave yourself.” she exclaimed firmly, ticked off. Her golden eye’s typical gentle appearance had slightly widened into a piercing stare.

Elizabeth’s bright green eyes looked shocked at her mum for a few moments, before pouting and slouched her head with a compliant nodding. Heather softened her face and sighed deeply.

She crouched before the 8-year-old, reaching her gloved hand and softly holding her sagging head by her chin. Eliza’s eyes still gazed at the floor, however.

“Lizzy, darling…You know I care about your comfort more than anything else but, we’re here for a reason. I need you to behave for me, dear.”

She shuffled her feet uncomfortably.

“Can you do that for me, love?”

Eliza bit her lip, “Mhm…” she slowly nodded her head.

Mrs. Mulberry smiled, although it wasn’t visible from her void face, “Atta’ girl.” her yellow eye arched north to express her warm visage.

Mrs. Mulberry stood back up, her impressive height casting a heavy shadow over the small child. She quietly offered her gloved hand to her daughter. Eliza hesitated for a moment, glancing up at her smiling, welcoming as always. Just like that, she felt comforted, albeit still upset she had to be here, and beamed up at her.

Elizabeth was uncomfortable being here and her parent could tell, but she’d do her best for her mom. Eliza placed the nub of her arm in her hand, the far-too-long sleeve hanging as her mother lovingly grabbed the end of her limb.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s go get you those shoes~”

Elizabeth didn’t respond and soon, the duo completed the journey to the revolving glass doors and entered the quaint, but elegant shop.

…

The establishment was very stylish looking. Shiny auburn wood planks lined the place beneath their feet. It was so shiny in fact, that Eliza could see her own, wobbly reflection. The ceiling was not very tall but still accommodated her mother.

It had chandeliers hung in every crevice of the store, sunbathing the single-roomed shop in its warm gleam. The aisles were tall, taller than her mother, and were lined with endless amounts of shoes, ranging from women's heels to children’s shoes.

The shop, L’Femme Paradis, as the name suggested, was directed primarily at girls and women. And the shoes weren’t cheap either! From what Elizabeth could see around her, all the customers were women and girls, save for a few boys.

They were scattered about the area’s floor and based on their fine gowns and extravagant hats, came from luxury, rich nobles just like her.

Elizabeth had parted ways with Heather with the excuse of looking for shoes to wear, in reality, she wanted to explore. Standing and listening to her mother gush about another pair she found was something she couldn’t bear to experience again.

‘I don’t belong here.’

That recurring thought shouted in the foretops of her mind. It tolerated her feeble tries to ignore it for a while, only for it to take over her line of thinking. She groaned frustratedly, finally accepting the uncomfortable aura this place radiated.

It was true, she couldn’t help but feel out of place in here. It was probably because she never left her home for any reason other than school, but the people here were…questionable, to say the least.

From what she eavesdropped, as she thoughtlessly looked up the mighty shelves, the women were shamelessly rude. One flamboyant lady, instead of helping, scolded her accompanying maids if they dropped a box. It was even more impressive that they only dropped one. The stacks they carried were dangerously high, almost near touching the ceiling.

It made Lizzy sad that they were spoken to so badly. She even saw a poor woman, an elder lady, on the verge of tears after being verbally lashed out at. Her employer, fan in hand, fanned her face and stormed past her, nearly knocking her over. But the two made eye contact when she passed.

The little girl’s sorrow-filled eyes reached into hers. The older one stopped to give her a weak smile, despite her leaking tears. She followed her employer in tow, in line with two other similarly dressed ladies. But they were much younger than her.

Elizabeth smiled bittersweetly to herself, that woman’s smile was what she liked to do the most. A trait inherited by her mom. She stopped and slid to the floor, leaning against the shelf. It was only the elite academy she attended and her mansion she knew intimately.

The Mulberry property was large enough for her and she had plenty of things to do while there, so why leave? She liked it that way. When it’s just her Ernie and Maxie, life is fun and simple.

But her lifestyle left her with a bit of a hole in her heart; Elizabeth had no friends. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she had her cute doggy and even cuter little brother as company. Along with that, an endless group of staff who were trained to entertain her. Seeing the same people every day never got to her, but a change in routine would surely be lovely.

Thoughts like these hardly seeped into her life, but when not playing in her home, her chance to retrospect always brought up the concept of just that; a new friend. What has kept that idea down for so long was seeing the way people treated others.

Eliza was afraid she would be subjected to that treatment and the thought of it only made her want to cry. She sniffled. The people in her class bored her, their only defining feature was that they were rich like her but pompous like everyone else.

Sometimes, there was the rare little boy or girl who accompanied their parents to one of her mom’s social events hosted at their mansion and they’d have a grand time together. But it never escalated into something more, a “one-time playdate”, a phrase coined by her staff.

Someone to fill that hole would be nice.

Funnily enough, Eliza had already come across someone she thought would fit in her fantasies just perfectly. She’d been in the back of her mind since she first laid eyes on her.

She was a girl like her and really pretty. She wore a puffy red dress, had locks of curly blond hair pulled into ponytails, and cute red ribbons on both sides of her head. Her hand held a similarly colored, red parasol.

From what Elizabeth could see on the end of the aisle, where it broke off into a walkway, the wall was also lined with shoes.

There stood the girl and her mom. She attempted to make her gawking and eavesdropping not so obvious, hiding her face against the wooden structure of the tall shelves.

She had a fetching laugh and spoke nicely to her mother, a nice change in pace from the honest-to-god brats children that bossed their mother around like a dog.

Eliza thought about what might happen to her if she talked to her mother in that tone. She immediately cringed to herself. Speaking of her mother, she was shopping in the aisle just next to her, unknown to Elizabeth that is.

Mrs. Mulberry turned the corner into the next row, nearly stepping on her daughter in the process, who was still seated on the ground. She gasped in surprise. The 10 boxes in her hands had their foundation shake before falling back into place smoothly after much squirming.

Elizabeth nearly didn’t realize it was her mother until she looked up and cringed even harder like the sourest lemon was plopped in her mouth. The number of boxes she carried had her appalled.

“Goodness Elizabeth, what are you doing on the floor?” Mrs. Mulberry exclaimed, exasperated.

“I was just looking around and then sat here,” said Eliza, now standing and motioning to her former spot on the glossy surface.

“Ah well, did you find anything you’d like to try on?” Heather perked up at the news of her daughter’s store exploration.

Uh oh. She had completely forgotten to do that, having spent the majority of her time wandering. And giggling at some of the ridiculous designs she saw on the shoes. Eliza decided to stop laughing when she got a couple of frowns from the employees. She couldn’t help it, they were just too funny.

Heather’s eyes thinned suspiciously. “Lizzy, you did find something, right? I didn’t let you out my sight for no reason…”

“Uhhhh…” Elizabeth didn’t want to be exposed for lying, so grabbed a random pair off the shelf and presented it to her mother. “I found these.”

Heather’s single golden eye arched up, indicating a smile. “That’s excellent, love. Let’s go try them on.” Her mom waltzed past her, carrying the stupid amount of merchandise with ease. Eliza, out of sight, rolled her eyes, knowing that the hardest part of shopping was about to begin.

.

.

.

.

.

“Eliza, dear,” Her mother stared, deadpan. “This pair is 5 sizes too big.”

Elizabeth was sitting on a shoe bench, no longer wearing her heels, her mother yet again crouched beside her with the boxes scattered next to them. The girl’s shoes were missing, showing off her stripy stockings to their fullest.

Her arms were crossed and the British child was looking away, her lips pulled in a somewhat guilty expression. A soft sigh rocked the older Brit’s shoulders and Eliza immediately knew she had disappointed her.

“Lizzy, why did you ask me to explore if you didn’t want to find anything?”

She knew the answer but knew that honesty would break her mother’s heart. Elizabeth, hated, absolutely loathed shopping for clothes. It was a tedious task that got under her skin and made her pouty and grumpy. How she behaved while clothes shopping was a stark contrast to who she was.

Elizabeth would do anything to share her mother’s enthusiasm, but just couldn’t. The answer was written all over her face; Eliza was bored. The mother’s eyes furrowed in retrospection, she knew her daughter didn’t like trips like these, but the two weren’t here for fun today.

Eliza’s shoes were worn and needed to be replaced; which included her daughter’s favorite heels, a grey-blue pair of heels. She was honest about it while at home and needless to say, she wasn’t very happy. It required a promise of a double helping of ice cream after supper to get her out into the carriage. But she grimaced the whole way there.

They generally shared a lot of interests, piano, fencing, playing games, and…

Playing games, of course. She suddenly had a curious, burst of genius, that made her surprise herself that she hadn’t thought of it before. But in this public space, Heather would have to be a bit more discreet. Her daughter could get pretty loud, so she would have to be increasingly gentle for this to work.

In one smooth motion, the tall Brit gently grasped her daughter’s ankle, her other hand promptly beginning to skitter the bottom of her foot softly.

Eliza yelped, jumping in her seat before the most adorable giggles began to pour out of her. Heather smiled to herself upon hearing them, it was a lovely break from her daughter’s grumpy attitude.

“M-mohohom! What are you- ehehehe- d-dohohoing?” Elizabeth giggled frantically. As Mrs. Mulberry predicted, she’d start squirming. In an instant, Eliza felt her legs freeze in place like they had been frozen in a block of ice, which left her poor feet at the mercy of her mother.

She knew what this was and bitterly shouted, “D-don’t use your mahahagic on mehehe!” a new wave of laughter came from her as she scritched the sole of her foot.

Mrs. Mulberry swallowed back a tease, instead, keeping her face cool as a cucumber, sporting an almost professional demeanor.

“Why all the giggles, dear? Is something funny?” She asked with feigned concern, a hint of a coo laced her tone.

She blushed and quickly shook her head, her laughter unabated.

“Oh well, let’s move on to the next pair.”

Mrs. Mulberry halted her wiggling fingers, giving her daughter a break, smiling a bit upon hearing her gentle pants. She grabbed another box and opened it.

The pair was a pastel pink ankle strap children’s heels, Heather unbuckled the strap and placed the heel on Elizabeth’s foot; she noticeably left her outstretched leg shoeless.

“How does that feel?”

“I-it feels alright- h-hey! Hehehehe!”

She didn’t even get to finish her sentence, as her mother was back at it again, wiggling her fingertips all over her sole. Elizabeth couldn’t move a single inch from the waist down, not even being able to curl her toes in resistance, so she was forced to endure it.

Eliza’s belly shook with laughter, her waist twisting her torso despite her unmoving legs. The state of them was quite bizarre in fact; she couldn’t move them, but gravity didn’t seem to have a hold on her legs either. Her mother could bend or outstretch her leg and it wouldn’t fall.

This was only made aware to her when Mrs. Mulberry outstretched her leg forward and began to scrabble her clothed, neat nails on the fleshy bed that was the back of her knee.

She loudly squealed. The tickling stopped. And so did the action in the shop. Elizabeth felt the air freeze the moment her scream rang out. How could she be so careless? She was in public after all, but Eliza, along with Mrs. Mulberry was completely alone in this section of the store.

They were at one of the ends of the long wooden corridors that were shelves, Lizzy’s shoe bench was pressed up against its narrow width, conveniently placed for those who shopped and immediately had a seat to go to.

The seats were placed at every other shelf, which was made consciously apparent when she saw a figure through the gaps of several shelves stop and slowly make its way to the end.

The figure peeked over, a middle-aged woman, wearing an exuberant hat. Her scarlet petticoat made itself aware before her face did, a very confused and rather perturbed expression.

Elizabeth was staring at her, the women stared back. And her mother had quickly joined the stare-down. The room was silent before Eliza squeaked again, looking down horrified that her mother touched the back of her knee.

A warning for what was to come. She turned back to her daughter, an invisible smile stretched wide over her stygian face as continued to tickle the back of her knee.

“Coochie coochie coo~” She sang, clearly putting up a show for the woman watching. Like lightwork, her magic sparked up. A cyan cloud burst from nowhere and out of the wispy and sparkly residue of the cloud came two, blackened disembodied hands. Ones she could control freely as if they were attached to her arms.

The moment they spawned, the fingers were twitching and squirming, quite literally mirthful as their “body” was tormented by tickles. Eliza did the best that she could to control her hands and managed to clamp them on her mother’s shoulders.

Her fingers dug into the purple fabric of her shoulder pads and pulled, but her tugging was weakened by her endured giggles.

The woman who was gently staring, chuckled softly at the sight and returned behind the shelf. She was so embarrassed, her already flushed face warmed up even more knowing a stranger just saw her being tickled. Let alone tease her!

“Mahahahmuhaha! People are lohohoking!” She softly squealed, wiggling in her seat.

“I agree, darling. After all, your shoes are quite fetching!” Heather hummed.

“Thahat’s not whahat I meant!”

“Then what did you mean, sweetheart?” Her invisible smile stretched slightly.

Elizabeth laughter was her response.

“Ah I see, how interesting~”

Mrs. Mulberry stopped to grab one of the spectral hands clasped on her shoulder and took it gently into her palm. They were nearly as large as her hands, the long phalanges twitched in recovery.

With a single forefinger, she tranced a gentle line from the base of her middle finger, along the palm, and to the wrist. Eliza squeaked, somewhat alarmed giggles spilling out.

“Mohohom?! What are you d-dohoing?”

She responded curtly. “Nothing, darling.”

Heather's fingers wrapped hers around her daughters, caging them gently but firmly. Her thumb did the same to her child’s, pulling the charcoal skin taut. She repeated her actions from before, tracing a forefinger along the much more tender flesh.

Her face brightened with amusement at the happy noises her child was making. Lizzy’s laughter only increased when her mother traced slow, soft circles at the palm of her hand.

Her body screamed at her to move her lower half, to kick out and thrash. Just something to make her cope with the unbearable sensations, “Nohoohooho, m-mahahamuh!” Eliza has always had sensitive hands but to the point of ticklishness? Utterly ludicrous. But her mother would believe otherwise, as her unseen smile sat at a stretch and satisfied smirk.

Suddenly, she picked up the pace and her elegant tracing turned to merciless skittering, titillating off her flesh like a feather at an exquisite speed. Heather gently scratched at the very center and slowly outlined the creases, which boded lovely squeaks out of her sweet daughter.

Eliza giggled a lovely “Mehehercy!”, her cheeks now a precious shade of pink. Her uncontrollable laughter hitched and dipped at random intervals, she couldn’t handle the fiery trails traveling her tender palms. Which was made obvious by her fruitless squirming.

“Hahaha!”

Elizabeth heard a hearty chuckle coming from her left. She managed to open her scrunched-up eyes just a bit to see a young woman, holding a cyan parasol and sporting an elegant white dress. She was cracking up, as were her children, two girls, and a boy, all wearing similarly colored clothes.

“She’s so cute!” The girl with short hair blurted out.

She blushed furiously, despite already having a flushed face. It was miraculously Eliza was able to burn up more. Couldn’t they mind their own business?!

“Come now children!” Their mother said, still sniggering, “We mustn't stare. Come now, come!” she motioned them forward for them to follow her with the wag of her gloved hand.

“Yes, mother!” They exclaimed energetically.

They bounced along in front of her, shooting her playful and warm looks. A train of giggles filled her ears as they passed and quieted down the farther they got from her…

Before they could disappear in another aisle, the mother turned around. The parasol shadowed her face, but Elizabeth could still make out a large smirk on her face. She smooched the pads of her fingers and blew a kiss aimed at the small child.

Elizabeth was floored and looked away as soon as she did. Her free hand was trying to smother her lovely pink face, which only muffled her uncontrollable giggles.

“Aww…” The woman kissed her lips and cooed at the delightful scene before her. The lady with the parasol turned on her heel and continued with her rowdy bunch, who were crying out for their mother to follow them at this point.

Mrs. Mulberry chuckled heartily and stopped tickling her daughter. Lizzy’s hand was released from its restraint but lingered in her grasp as Mrs. Mulberry readjusted her hand. She now had the hand in hers and her mother was lovingly brushing her thumb over the knuckles.

“So cute…” the uttered gently, so soft in fact, Lizzy didn’t hear.

Mrs. Mulberry leaned over and pressed a tender kiss on the middle knuckle. This spawned a succession of gentle kisses, which took Eliza by surprise.

“My sweet little princess…”

Elizabeth smiled at the nouveau nickname, expressing this with a flustered giggle. If her happiness gave her the ability to swing her legs, Eliza would. The kisses explored each of her knuckles, her invisible lips slowly pressing up against the hard bone. She took her time to peck the pads of her fingers and smooched the bones of her fingers.

She flipped over her hand, palm up. Heather pressed a loud, tender smooch on the palm, which made Eliza spaz and laugh a little harder at the ticklish sensation. “Mohohommy! Nohoho!”

Heather didn’t come back after her, only smiling as she pulled back her hands. Heather’s eyes crinkled, signaling her present smile, which would have been a comfort if she hadn’t grabbed her leg again.

“W-wait!”

She bent her leg forward and let go, leaving it in its stuck position mid-air like she was some sort of puppet. Before she could say anything, Heather squeezed her thigh, nothing short of a squeal came out. All her attempts at talking voided in an instant, and belligerent laughter sputtered out of her.

She even snorted a couple of times, which made Mrs. Mulberry laugh. She was plucking and squeezing her thighs like she was clumping off chunks of dough, using both hands on both thighs.

Heather traveled her squeezing up to her hips and pinched the divots briefly, which got a delicious squeal out of her daughter.

“N-NOHOHOHO!” She cried, her mirth right now outsounded when Heather got to her toes. She’s found a new sweet spot and would dare to take advantage of it. Mrs. Mulberry pressed her thumbs into the divots and kneaded the flesh like a ticking clock.

“Poor baby…” Her coo went unheard as her child’s cackles overshadowed the woman’s tease. The elder Mulberry’s heart was close to bursting out of her chest, she’d never seen this sweet summer child laugh so hard.

She slowed down her tickling to a stop, allowing her daughter to catch her breath.

Once she did, her mother didn’t stop. Instead, she, again, scribbled wildly on the bottom of her foot, doing her the most to make sure her daughter squealed. And she did, Elizabeth hiccuped as she laughed joyously. Heather smiled at the sound of her daughter’s belly laughter.

“Hm…what else should you wear?” Her casual manner was driving her insane.

“N-nothihihing!” She cried, her laughter much squeakier than before.

“Oh, I swear Elizabeth…” Heather hummed. “What is so ridiculous about these shoes?”

“Whahat do you mehehean?”

“You laughed at all these poor shoes in the shop so much, they must feel bad about themselves now~”

“Hehehehe! Stop it, mohohom!” Lizzy giggled helplessly, the joke being played on her would have her pouting if it weren’t for the tickling. But thankfully, the scribbling slowed down to teasy tracing. The gloved hand mimicked the shape of her sole, Heather danced and traced the outline of the heart-shaped paw bean.

“Maybe you want to say “sorry for laughing at you” to these poor things?” Her pace picked up to gentle scribbles.

Through her titters, her daughter shook her head, “N-never!” she exclaimed defiantly.

“No? Hm…” Her mother began to let out pseudo-hums of contemplation, rubbing the bottom of her chin with her free hand.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth did her best to release herself of her loving mother’s magical restraint, but as she’s tried before, nothing worked. No matter how much she budged, Elizabeth could not escape. Which only added more butterflies to the swarming anticipation in her belly at the moment.

“How about this?”

Her mother pinched and began to wiggle around her pinkie toe, which caused her daughter to squeal quite delightfully.

“There are ten shoes left, just like you have ten toes.” She remarked. “Apologize to each one and I’ll move on to the next one. But be quick about it, or you’ll surely regret it.” The sinister hum in her tone was all that it took for Elizabeth to stay alert, but hysterical. Eliza could hardly say a word, her toes were deviously ticklish after all.

“Don’t you have something to say, darling?”

“Ahahaha! S-sahahahary!” Her howling made her tummy tremble to that of a mighty earthquake.

A smug satisfaction washed over Mrs. Mulberry, “Good girl~” her praise just about oozed with mischief.

The gloved fingers moved to tickle the other toe next in line, inspiring the British child to cry out in tearful mirth. “Kitchykitchykitchykoo” Her mother teased, her voice in a whisper so only her daughter could hear her taunts.

Elizabeth shook her head to distract herself from the rude mockery. Heather only laughed in response. “Did you really think I’d forget how ticklish these little things were?” She chuckled again, wiggling the toe in tandem. “You never fail to make me laugh, dearest…”

Her daughter merely giggled.

For the next few minutes, Mrs. Mulberry teased each digit with her flawless scribbling, not offering a smidgen of mercy for her child. Her dearest Lizzy was in tears at this point, her cheeks bathed in shades of pink and red.

The shop patrons were aware of what was going on at this point, with whispers flying about the women about the odd woman tickling her daughter. None could deny how the British child’s saccharine laughter warmed their hearts and made their shopping trip all the more pleasant.

Some “conveniently” needed to shop nearby and aw’d at the sight. Some children mimicked Lizzy’s laughter before running off. Even the old woman from before was passing by, no longer crying and wearing a wrinkly smile at the spectacle. In the back of her mind, she was reminded of her grandchildren and their darling laughter.

Elizabeth didn’t remember when her mother stopped, she was too stuck in her euphoria to notice. She only did when she felt the welcoming sensation of a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I believe that’s enough for you, dearest…”

She panted, residual hiccups and giggles spilling out, a sleepy smile graced her face from laughing so hard. Her mother lovingly placed her default heels back on, before pressing an extra tender kiss right on her cheek and forehead.

The magic ceased and she was free to move her legs once again. Heather collected the scatter boxes into two towers, one held in each hand. Before that, her mother kindly placed her default heels back on. Not without wiggling her fingers against her to get a few extra giggles, that is.

“I’m going to go buy these, stay put, sweetheart~”

Elizabeth didn’t bother to disobey, as fatigue already sank deep in her youthful flesh. She had recovered her breath, but the buzzing warmth still lingered in her chest like a blooming flower.

She couldn’t help but start to giggle a little, not from any phantom tickling, but just how funny it all was. Soft, squeaky snickering effortlessly escaped, the swing of her legs picking up to match her amusement.

“That was so cute…”

There was a soft voice that came from her far left. She opened her eyes to see who it was and her eyes widened. It was the pretty girl from earlier, the one with the red dress and golden hair.

Eliza blushed as she approached, still captivated by her beauty. Her demeanor was shy, as she kept her hands cusped together by her front. But her sparkling blue eyes maintained eye contact with hers.

The red-wearer’s smile stretched as she halted beside her, “W-what’s your name?” she stammered softly.

“Elizabeth.” Her lips moved before her brain could.

“That’s such a pretty name!” she mused excitedly, clasping her hands together over her heart. “M-my name is Cadence! I really like your laugh!”

Cadence went as crimson as her petticoat and pressed her hand over her mouth. Her gentle voice had gotten loud out of nowhere. Elizabeth smiled widely at her. “And I really like your dress!” Lizzy exclaimed, just as loudly.

The flustered girl paused for a second and brightened. “And I- and I l-like your hat!” Even louder. The British children took turns to one-up each other volume, raising their voices louder and louder with each compliment exchanged between one another.

Now, the shoppers were even more confused, first laughing, now shouting? The women exchanged odd glances at one another, sharing their mutual perplexity. Cadence’s mother was blissfully unaware of what was going on, trying on dresses in the changing chambers. Elizabeth’s mother could hear them loud and clear with the clerk.

She chuckled “A new friend, Elizabeth?” she exclaimed amusedly under her breath. She was due to make a new companion anyway.

.

.

.

.

.

Fin~

[syndrossi]

Just had the naughtiest idea. Resonant Otto, who is an arrogant scheeming snake, waking up in Regnal with his memories, to find Baelon King, Daemon as Prince of Dragonstone, with two male heirs (maybe more) and a loyal Rhea as his queen in waiting. Not sure how it would work with a fully Regnal Daemon and with a Resonant Daemon.

I don't know what Otto can really do about the situation. He's not really the murder-kill type, so arranging for Daemon's death is not really in the cards. He prefers the more hands-off approach of "let him get himself killed in the Stepstones" like in canon.

Courting Viserys seems like a losing proposition, with Daemon firmly established as Baelon's heir. Viserys has very little to make himself attractive to the lords of the realm. He doesn't have a dragon, and he has one daughter, and, inconveniently, still a wife. (To say nothing of the fact that Otto's daughter is only 10. Which honestly is enough of a change to throw him. Resonant!Otto has only ever known Resonant's fucked up timeline, whereas Regnal is pure book timeline. His daughter should only be a few years older than Rhaenyra, not eight years older!) Like, sure, he can wait another six years for Aemma to possibly die in childbirth, but it's attaching yourself to a losing horse.

Which means he's gotta look at Daemon's new family situation. It might be easier if Daemon's still seventeen and easier to manipulate. Maybe he can try to ingratiate himself with him, but Otto has always viewed Daemon as a danger to the realm / the Faith, so it would have to be a massive intervention to put him on a godly path.

Okay, so Daemon's out. Rhea seems to have an ironclad loyalty and plenty of motive to remain so, given that she'll be queen. At this point, his ins are:

Court the Velaryons for dragons, but no claim.

See if he can somehow win a match between his youngest son and Rhaenyra, since they're close in age. Still not a great prospect, since Viserys is not Baelon's chosen heir and Rhaenyra is a daughter, to boot. But it gives him a small claim + dragons.

Try his damndest to win Baelon's favor and a match between one of his children and Daemon's. Alicent is not a great age for this, since she's ten years older than the twins, but his wife is still alive, so perhaps he can hope for a daughter? Lots of chance involved here.

Hope for Rhea's death and try the Alicent ploy with Daemon instead. Depending on when he wakes up, Alicent might even be close to the right age for it, since she's 15-16 when Jaehaerys dies. Again, it's not the best move in the world, since his grandsons will be further down in the line of succession without a reason for their claim to be advanced ahead of their older brothers'.

It just doesn't look great for him. The ages are all wrong, the setup is worst case scenario. If he cares less about getting his blood on the throne and more about ensuring that a godly ruler who upholds the Faith succeeds to the throne, then he can try to influence Jon and/or Aemon, but they're pretty resistant given their summerhalling.

Dark horse option: given what he knows about Volantis, ally with them. They get Daemon's sons, leaving Viserys and Rhaenyra second and third in line behind Daemon. He aims for a match between his son and Rhaenyra or Viserys and Alicent. Otto won't love working with a bunch of warlocks and slavers, but if it's for a righteous cause and the good of the realm, so be it.

(Regnal!Daemon has no reason to suspect anything, and Otto won't be stupid enough to start a rivalry with him this time around. He'll play from the shadows and put on a cooperative/conciliatory face. Resonant!Daemon has him killed the moment he suspects he's a risk to his family.)

[heroes-in-the-dark]

Hi!!!! It's me again with a new fan art, one of several sketches I have pending haha!

In episode 119.5 when toga mentions that Tokoyami gives him his blood, I couldn't help but remember the scene where Ochako tells him that he would give her his blood, in episode 19 of season 7

That children's scene is very symbolic, and I decided to do the version that no one asked me for, but our little fandom needed

Your work has been too special for me, my heart received it with affection and it has a great place in my mind every day, at least I dedicate 6 hours of thought to it a day HAHA! It sounds crazy but it's my Roman empire, and my life changed for the better since I've been following this fanfic

So I basically say this to say, THANK YOU.

And I was wondering for a while , would you give me your permission to make content, like videos about this fanfic? Clearly all the credits of creation would be yours, I only enjoy creating things that I like, that's why I ask permission. Why I respect your rights as an author 🕴️💖

Anyway, I love you, I hope you like my fan art, many more will come jsjsjs😊

I ABSOLUTELY ADORE THIS ONE!!!! 💕😭💕

Your art is so good, and this scene is actually SO important because we're not quite there yet, but I'm really anticipating when Tokoyami and Toga see each other next! Their little faces are so precious I just wanna cherish them both 🥺

Art of these two is so rare outside of this little corner I've written, but this actually means so so much. It's just so perfect, for reasons I can't yet fully explain, and I'm absolutely giddy that you drew this 🥰 so thank you!!!

And you're so sweet! 💕 Honestly, it's been the support and continued enthusiasm from my readers that gave me the motivation to make it this far, so I really couldn't have done it without you! I love how much I was able to explore throughout the story, while giving attention to characters who didn't get nearly enough in canon. And I'm so happy that I can share these thoughts and ideas with others! Especially with how long it's been going on for, this hasn't exactly been a short journey, and you and quite a few others have been keeping up with it year after year. And that's amazing! Thank you so much for being a fan of my work!!!

You can absolutely make fan content! I trust you to credit me and all that, so go right on ahead. And by all means, feel free to share! I'd love to see anything you end up making 😊

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"For life." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gifs)

Daryl tells his daughter about the day she was born (And she asks him an awkward question)

A/N: Just a continuation of my first imagine with dad!Daryl. My everything. I don't know why but I always imagined his daughter as Lexi Rabe, Iron Man's daughter, (I took a scene too, sorry hehe) but as always, you can imagine her differently. Thanks for the love my imagines are receiving! I had so much fun writing this so i hope you like it♥

“Shit…” Daryl whispers, and the group around him sinks into silence.

The few present, some members of his family, including his wife, stare at the map on the dining room table, plotting in their minds what was the best option to attack Negan’s clan before he attacks Alexandria again, before he puts at risk the lives of the innocents who had been caught in the crossfire.

But the silence is broken by a small voice, as sweet as honey since she learned to speak.

“Shit.”

They all turn to the staircase behind them, especially Daryl, who could recognize his daughter’s voice among a sea of ​​murmurs, even if they were louder than her small voice. Daryl had a good memory, and he had memorized her voice since Marley said her first word, which, to his delight, was daddy. But now Marley Rose Dixon is 4 years old already, and although her bag of words as he used to call it was still limited, she had learned to memorize a lot of things at her young age.

Daryl walks over to her, who is sitting on the bottom step, wearing her pajamas with little baby elephant prints on them, and he lifts her up in his arms, enveloping her in his warmth. For her part, Marley hugs his neck, and she smiles back at him, a little sleepily because it is already past midnight.

“What are ya doin' up, youn' lady? It’s late and ya should be sleepin'.”

“Shit.” She repeats, laughing, just to make him uncomfortable, although she didn’t know she was actually doing it.

You chuckle, as do Rick, Michonne, and the others.

“No, angel, it ain't 'kay to say that word.” Daryl scolds her, softly as he uses one hand to push some strands of her brown hair out of her face. “That word belongs to mommy, so only she can say it.”

Marley frowns, tilting her head to look at him with her deep blue eyes and an accusatory expression.

“But you said it, daddy.”

He clears his throat before answering.

“Yeah, but only 'cause Mommy lends it to me sometimes, right, Mommy?” Daryl glances in your direction, and when everyone turns their gazes to you, the weight falls on your shoulders, so you just nod with a solemn expression. “See? Now we’re gonna take ya back to yer room, 'kay?”

Marley hugs his neck closer, their noses touching, making Daryl smile.

“But can you tell me a story?”

Before you or Daryl can speak, though, Rick ends the meeting. Everyone retreats to their own homes, kissing Marley on the cheek or stroking her hair on their way out, and when the three of you are alone again, you all head up the stairs to her room.

Once there, Daryl sets Marley down on her bed, tucking her into her blanket as you grab a book from her shelf. There weren’t many children’s books in that new world, so the two of you had started reading Marley books about wild animals, exotic flowers, and more.

He lays down next to her on the blanket, their heads touching on the pillow as you hand him a book. But Daryl skims through it first, frowning as he looks back at you.

“What? No pictures this time?”

“Borin’!” Marley replies, mimicking her father’s expression.

Her words make you let out a deep breath, but you chuckle too, just because even though you had given birth to her, she looks more like her father than you.

“Oh no. Look what we did. We created a little Daryl Dixon. As if we didn’t have enough with the one we already have at home.” Shaking your head, you walk out of the room, hearing your husband’s voice behind you.

“I’m so proud of the daughter I raised!”

You hear the laugh in his deep voice, but before Daryl can open the book, Marley gently pushes it away.

“Daddy, tell me one of your stories.”

He settles down on the bed, looking into her eyes that were just like his own. Daryl could get lost in the depths of her blue eyes, all day, all night, or all his life: it was like that from the first time he saw her anyways.

“Did Mommy tell ya about the day ya were born?”

She shakes her head.

“Well, we were waitin' for ya for several months now, but ya were two weeks early. It seems that Mommy’s belly wasn’t very comfortable anymore. That night, Daddy had gotten to the gates after a run when Aunt Maggie told me that Mommy was ready to give birth, and when I got to our room, she was very, very scared. So I sat behind 'er on the bed and told 'er how brave she was, that she jus' needed to endure the pain a little longer to meet our baby.”

Daryl smiles slightly at the memory despite the fear he felt, because there was always a chance of losing his wife or his daughter, and Marley looks at him curiously.

“Were you scared?”

Daryl chuckles, stopping himself from saying shit again.

“Terrified, angel. Daddy couldn’t do anythin’ to stop Mommy from havin’ that pain, but we both know how strong Mommy is, and I knew she could do it. Ya took a long time to be born, but in the end, yer cry was the most beautiful sound I ever heard. Ya were healthy, and that was all yer mommy and I asked of life. Then the doctor put ya on mommy’s chest, and suddenly ya stopped cryin' when ya looked into 'er eyes.”

“How did I look at Mommy?”

Daryl smiles, bringing a hand up to Marley’s face to caress her cheek.

“Ya looked at each other like ya’d known each other forever.”

“And how did I look at you?”

Marley chuckles as he leans closer to her, so close that he can rub his nose against his daughter’s, hearing that sweet sound he’s memorized as well.

“Ya looked at me like ya were goin' to love me yer whole life.”

Marley smiles.

“But I love you, Daddy.”

“For life?”

She nods quickly.

“For life.”

For Daryl, who was never given a touch of affection, he knows well that he would give his life for his daughter, because she had loved him long before she knew what love was. But she grew up surrounded by it, by her family, by her mother, and most of all by him, who always knew how to love despite not having been loved when he was a child.

And it is easy for him to say the words that he never received.

“Daddy loves ya, Marley, with all his heart.”

She smiles, kissing his nose before wrapping an arm around his neck.

“I love you too, daddy, with all my heart.”

“That’s good to know, ma little angel.” Daryl caresses her cheek one more time before pulling away from her, getting up to tuck her in before leaving. “Ya must sleep now, sweetheart. It’s late.”

“Daddy?” Just as he adjusts her blanket for the last time, he stops. “Can I have a pet?”

Daryl thinks for a moment: it’s been a while since anyone had seen a pet.

“How about a fish? Daddy can take ya fishin' and we can come home with a pet fish.”

Marley wrinkles her nose.

“I don’t want a fish. You can’t take them for walks.”

He chuckles.

“And what animal would ya like?”

“An elephant!”

Daryl can’t help it, he frowns at her, head cocked to the side.

“What’s that word Mommy always uses when I get obsessed with somethin'?”

“Fixation.” She laughs, finding the word before her dad does.

Daryl chuckles.

“Ya really got a thin' for elephants, angel.” He leans down to kiss her forehead before leaving, but on his way to the door, her voice stops him again. “Yeah?”

“And how did I get into mommy’s belly?”

Daryl chokes on his own breath: but he would rather face 100 walkers than explain to his daughter how a baby was made.

“What?”

“You said I was in mommy’s belly.” Marley cocks her head, an action she learned from him. “How did I get there?”

“Well…” Daryl frowns in a thoughtful expression, because Merle had told him about it when he was a kid, but in a very grotesque way. “Daddy will try to get ya an elephant, I make no promises, but I'll try, 'kay?”

Marley smiles.

“Okay.”

Daryl can feel the relief as he closes her door, but he knows that sooner or later, she’ll ask again. When he gets to his own room, he can see you standing in front of the window, staring out at the cold world, but at least inside his home, it was always warm. Like a good hunter, Daryl comes to you quietly, wrapping you in his arms, his face hidden in your neck, his warm breath tickling you.

“How did yer parents tell ya how a baby is made?”

You laugh.

“What?”

“Marley asked me how she got into mommy’s belly.” Daryl lifts his head, meeting your amused gaze. “Merle told me when I was 6, and I ain't repeating the words he used to ma daughter.”

You shrug, agreeing with him.

“I met him, so I can imagine his words. I was never told that babies are delivered by the stork or anything like that. But, we already talked to Marley about calling her private parts by their names, so we can start there.”

Daryl growls.

“I’ll be there but, could ya do it? I ain't ready to teach ma baby how to make a baby.”

You laugh.

“Fine, I’ll do the talking. Although now that I think about it, my brother once told me that he was explained it when my mom was pregnant with me, so it was easier for them and him.” When you look back at him, Daryl is looking at you with an amused smile, the one he used before asking you if you wanted to make love. “I’m not saying we have another baby! So keep your hands off me.” You pull away from him a little, looking at him with a serious expression. “Before you say it, no. No, no, no, and definitely not. And if that wasn't clear to you, hell no.”

Daryl shoves his hands into his pants pockets, smiling like a child.

“I jus' think maybe it’s the right time to give Marley a little brother or sister.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah? Are you planning on giving birth to that baby?” You ask, but when he shakes his head, you narrow your eyes. “Then think twice, Dixon. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to sleep. And if you dare lay a finger on me, I’m going to bite it. I’m not kidding.”

The moment you turn your back at him, however, Daryl has you in his arms, kissing the arch of your neck before you can ask him to let you go.

[arpicityandneed]

Imagine being Loki and Thor's sister, very sheltered and destined to one day be sent away from Asgard for a political marriage of some sort. They've both always been a little miffed about this arrangement, but they cope by taking all of your 'firsts' before you go.

18+ Dark Content. big brother!Loki, big brother!Thor. tw incest, creampie, dirty talk, spit roast. Cuckolding.

You grew up to be the most delicate flower the kingdom had ever seen, beautiful, kind, sheltered, and protected by the royal guard and your brothers until you were dependent upon them for everything.

They didn't mind.

Thor would stop mid feast if you needed him to read you a bedtime story, and Loki used every ounce of magic he had to make illusions that made you giggle and laugh.

But the threat of your marriage hung over all over heads like a death sentence. Especially once they learned you'd be leaving Asgard for good once you were married.

"Father, you must reconsider. How is she to exist outside these walls without us, married to a brute?" Thor argued to the AllFather while you slept soundly a few nights before you were to be sent off. Your new husband had made no effort to hide that he only saw you as a way to have heirs from a powerful bloodline.

"Their family has old blood Thor, old enough even our family recognizes it. It is a good allyship and that's final." Odin stared down his son ominously, and Thor felt his blood boil.

"If I may, Father, at least allow us to escort her to her new home. Give her some comfort at least." Loki spoke quickly, knowing if he didn't there would be another eye lost and not from his father's face.

Odin considered, for a moment before nodding tightly.

"But this is the last I am to here of this matter."

~

"I don't want to go. I want to stay with you. I wish I were marrying you and Loki instead." You wailed, fully sobbing as your brothers held you close after telling you what your father had said.

"Don't cry, little one. Please don't cry," Thor begged as he rocked you.

"It'll be alright sister, I have my magic. No one will keep us from you no matter how far apart." Loki tried to convince you but it just made you cry harder, clinging to his hand as Thor cradled you against his broad chest.

"No, b-because he'll own me. I'll be h-his and he'll get to make me b-bear his children..." Thor's jaw clenched and he looked to Loki quietly. It was easy enough for Loki to guess his brother's thoughts after hundreds of years, but for once Loki was in complete agreement.

"What if we put a child in your belly first?" Loki murmured as he brushed his thumb over your knuckles. For the first time since they'd told your about Odin's words your crying died down a little.

"Really? You'd do that for me?" You looked between the two of them with wide hopeful eyes, squeezing Loki's hand tight.

"Of course we would. Your ours, always have been and always will be." Thor's deep voice was gentle but completely serious. You wiped your tears, sitting up a bit taller.

"I'd much rather have your babies than his. I love you both, so very much." It was simply the truth, one the three of you all knew.

"Then let us show you how much we love you, sister."

~

The hours had blurred. What had started with gentle kisses and soft touched had long since devolved in hazy, animalistic sex.

"Another." Thor's massive hand slapped down on the fat of your ass, his cock pounding into your gushing insides relentlessly. Loki was groaning as you practiced deep throating him for the second time that night.

"Good technique. I think dear sister, fuck that's good, we've made you into a whore." Loki sounded pleased, Thor only growled in warning. They'd had this argument several times as the night wore on.

"Am I too lewd brother?" You'd asked when you'd demanded they teach you how to make them cum with your mouth so they could use you at the same time.

"Not at all, I quite like knowing you have some whorishness in you. Just needed to be nurtured." Loki purred as he kissed you, deeper than before. You heard a loud CRACK! and looked up to find Thor breaking the arm of the chair he'd been resting in.

"If that man touches you like we have I'm killing him. Allyship, war, all of it be damned. If he touches you I'm burning his kingdom to the ground." It wasn't a bellow like his normal good natured threats, this was quiet and deadly serious.

"Yes, yes. Only for us. Or Thor will kill your future husband." Loki laughed as he tugged on your hair forcing you down the last few inches until your nose was buried in his pubes. When you merely blinked up at him all pretty and wet eyed he barely got out a warning before he was coming down your throat.

You gasped for air when your brother released you. You'd lost count of how many loads you'd taken from them both, but each one made you feel greedier. You wanted to drown from the inside until you were marked irrevocably and their claim on you was undeniable.

"Breathe love, Thor give her space-" Loki combed your hair away from your face, trying to look in your eyes and check that you're okay.

"No!" You moaned as you fucked yourself back on your brother's girth shamelessly. "M-more, don't want to stop. Not till it t-takes. Please? Please please please," You begged shamelessly as Thor groaned and fucked you through his orgasm, each spurt squelching out around his cock onto the drenched sheets.

"Shh love, you know how Loki worries. We won't stop until you're with child. We promised didn't we?" Thor kissed your shoulder as he reached around to tease your clit, his fingers growing slick the more he played with your nub. "Because the only children you'll be having are ours."

"Even-"

"Even after you're married to that oaf, you'll still be good for us won't you?" Loki placed two fingers under your chin to make you look at him, your eyes glazed over and adoring.

"Yes."

[moonspirit]

What do you think about Annie's father? Was he justified in what he did to Annie? And how did he feel afterward? I’d like a debate on this topic.

Hello again!

Straight up, I don't have a good opinion about Mr. Leonhardt xD To borrow a beautiful name coined by the Noragami fandom, he is simply a "trash dad" xD

I recommend a reading of this post by @distortedclouds, her take on Annie's father is very sensible and I agree with everything there; it also covers all your questions, honestly.

For me, I feel that no, he was not justified in what he did to Annie at all! That was a child he abused with his rigid principles and harsh training and terrible physical and mental stress. Annie's father, who well understood that he would be the only parent figure to a small child -- a blank canvas -- chose to be a source of pain and terror instead of being a loving father.

Sure, all the warrior-parents were terrible (with the exception of maybe Pieck's father, but then again we don't get much information about him; he seems nice based on the little we know though). We can say that pretty much all the Eldians in Liberio had their surroundings shape them into who they were. I won't argue with this, they were victims of propaganda and brainwashing and when you're so far removed from reality and fed only one type of story, you can become Karina Braun yourself. But here it's important to remember - Mr. Leonhardt was not someone who bought into any of that Marley Supremacy bullshit, Mr. Leonhardt was motivated by what he could get in terms of comfort and a good life in exchange for his daughter's life. When he adopted Annie, he saw her as an entry card, not as a child he would love.

As for what he felt afterward, I think Clouds explains it very well in her post, but I too am not inclined to feel like any of his apparent remorse was genuine. It's kind of like when an animal trainer who's been dealing harsh training to an animal over the years becomes accustomed to having it around, and when suddenly faced with the possibility of losing it, expresses some warmth. I'm not saying all of it was bullshit, but it certainly wasn't love. However that scrap of emotion was enough for Annie to latch on to and you can't blame her; starved for affection so long, it was the first bit of affection coming her way and she grabbed it.

I can't say for certain what kind of person he becomes post-rumbling. No human being is above good change, so it's possible he changes for the better. He might become a loving father, or he might not, but perhaps we should give him the benefit of doubt in either case.

That said my personal headcanon as to this is that parents who have never known the "good way" to raise a child do not become wonderful parents overnight. Sure, the Rumbling was a catastrophic event, the parents of the surviving warrior kids are no longer prideful about their status but simply hope for their children to return; would Annie's father finally realize the worth in her existence instead of the worth in her skills? Maybe. It's possible. Maybe he's a different man, after all these years. But again, personally, I like to imagine that even if he is a new person, there is still damage he deals to Annie, in different ways. Perhaps unwittingly. Unintentionally. Unconsciously. But he's never known Annie as a person, only as a tool, and then, it is damage, nonetheless.

[pallanophblargh]

Wrangling the Children onto some fresh leaves. The Cecropia Kids are over 40 days old and still growing, and I’m starting to worry they won’t pupate in before I leave on vacation . Granted, I’m sure everything will be ok but it’s in my nature to worry over multi-legged invertebrate children. I just love larvae.

(Forgive the frass, I cleaned it out shortly after getting all the cats onto fresh food)

[vapefeare]

Don’t let an autistic Simpsons fan be your child’s teacher or else a Character may appear in your child’s art project

[nympippi]

So we’re all in agreement that Gregory is innocent and is best friends with Cassie, okay? Okay!

[north-wilkesboro-moonshine-cave]

congratulations to Mme. Pascale Leclerc, who has surely just experienced both the funniest and most unhinged weekend a mother could ever have. Dear fucking christ, I hope your middlest son brought you a bottle of champagne for yourself, ma'am.