#yes shes “mother” yes shes much more than that

[acid-ixx]

if you guys are interested, send in an ask or comment!

will anybody be willing to hear out neglected child reader who was another one of zeus's bastard children. you're out there chasing for your stepmother (hera's attention), whilst zeus just lets you run around without his care, clearly too wrapped up in his affairs. your other siblings aren't as good to you, too, thinking another half-deity isn't worth their time—

so you'd give up, pretty much choosing to bestow the mortal world with your presence instead; because if you can't be loved by your own family, then let yourself be worshipped by passionate mortals instead.

how about romancing telemachus? what if you both learn what it's like navigating through his godly favor with athena, and you with your own powers? what if you have odysseus and penelope be the actual parent-figures you always wanted? their overprotectiveness skyrockets every time you propose to being elsewhere in ithaca, to the point you forget that it's you who has the godly powers to oppose, but how could you when a darker side of them appears every time you allow yourself to be disrespected within their palace?

how about in another place? what are you to many of the great warriors, if not for a forgotten, yet mysterious and whimsical deity? why is your name muttered in all the regions? surely, with just how much you deny your god-like origins, but still manage to capture the hearts of hundreds of suitors, you'd gain quite the infamous name despite your closed-off attitude.

imagine enough attention was garnered on your presence, that that's what was needed for them to finally notice you? but you're not quite the same child who used to pull on their robes, or look at them as brightly as the sun— no, now you deny them of any of your love. your mother, hera, finally sees you and urges you to return to olympus away from the prying eyes of many suitors and back into the domain of safety. she calls you her baby, fuzzing over you even when you openly and spitefully try to rip her hands away from fixing your 'messy' robes. zeus isn't any better, now he calls you sweet names and pretend like he hadn't actively bashed on you for your weakness back when you were begging on his throne for just a sliver of attention? he wants you to sit in between his throne and hera's? you're significantly smaller than him, he's gigantic in nature, and it doesn't help that he treats you like you could be easily squashed by him (which is every damn right possible, and it's intimidating and makes you want to cry).

and there's the issue with the others, too. so many of them used to deny you in favor of focusing on their own domains. now apollo wants to carry you off in one of his chariots to ride off the skies with him while he plays his lyre to you? artemis wants to teach you the way of the hunt under the dark, gloomy skies you used to wish under for a moment of their time? aphrodite used to spitefully shut you out of her own doors, but now she invites you in her room to gossip and play pretend while she coos and braids your hair?

and all the other gods, now wanting to take you away from the underserving - as they say it - mortal realm? that the people who built sculptures of you, who held you more lovingly more than those you grew up with, aren't worthy of your divine presence?

what a joy to be a being looming between the lines of mortal and divine, right?

a/n: this concept is better off and more coherent in my head i swear. now i don't often diverge from my main fandom, but the similarities between this and the yan! batfam is quite hilarious to me that ngl i want to make a crossover of it. and yes, this is me coping with the stress of having to deal with the sudden influx of hate in the yan! dc community, so i'm taking a short break from it to focus on this.

[aren-after-hours]

Okay but each of the other movies are just as emotional. They may be more action packed, but they have just as much meaning.

Ice Age 2, as previously mentioned, highlights the struggle of survivors guilt, Manny thinking he's the last Mammoth, finding Ellie, the complexity of their relationship (love vs "save the species), it's very focused on Manny the entire movie.

The third movie, Dawn of the dinosaurs, is focused on Sid. Manny and Ellie are happily together and expecting their baby, Sod is trying his best to be helpful and supportive and involves but he keeps fucking up. Despite his best efforts, he is always doing the wrong thing and making Manny more stressed. He copes with this by claiming the eggs as his children: he's lonely, he wants to nurture, and did not think through the consequences of his actions bc of that purity and innocence mentioned earlier. The whole movie for Sid is about realizing, he can't just make these dinosaurs his family. He can't project his longing and need on this random family that he disturbed. There's subplots, obviously, such as Buck, and the groups' quest to retrieve Sid, but those are secondary. This movie is about Sid and his growth.

The fourth movie, Continental Drift, is so very obviously about the complexities of parenting. Manny has a strained relationship with his now teenage daughter which is left unresolved do to natural disaster. Him, Sid, Diego and Grammy get caught up by pirates, who I see as akin to looters after hurricanes in real life, individuals who are taking advantage of people in a time of crisis. Also in this movie, Sid reconnects with one member of his family, the other "black sheep", his Granny, who is ditched on him by the rest of his family. If I remember correctly, this is the only time we ever see his family on screen, too. She's not kind to him, but he loves her anyway and it is an excellent depiction of an elderly person and their caregiver, to an extent. Granny very much reminds me of my grandmother, who suffered from dementia, and because of it was prone to aggression. It's also to be inferred that Granny initially abandoned Sid as well, and the only reason she hasn't left him is because she can't, she needs him to take care of her. Furthermore, this is the movie where Diego finally begins to show much more vulnerability, cracks forming in his solo tough guy act by having a love interest introduced. Diego had previously never had a love interest of any kind, or even reference to relationships or even family. He had his pack, but that was more like being in a gang than anything else, not loved, romantically or familially. He has that familial bond now, with Manny and the others, but begins to realize that maybe he needs more than that. His love interest, Shira, is exactly like he used to be. She's in a dangerous group, doing dangerous and questionable things, just to survive. She's a foil of him, and reaching out to her is both healing and painful for him. Of course Peaches is also introduced as a strong female type character, and she also is learning who is really there for her and who was, for lack of better terms, was being a fake mother fucker, which is an important lesson for a teenager to learn.

Finally, Collision Course. A bit more campy and comedy based, yes, I will admit. But it again, focuses on that complex father/daughter relationship. Manny is watching his little girl fall in love with a guy that Manny perceives as a full out idiot. He's worried for her, for her future, for her happiness. Ellie and Peaches are very defensive and it's causing a rift in their family unit. Diego and Shira are navigating being carnivores in a predominantly herbivore community. Kids are scared of them, which makes them worry if their own children would be able to make friends, if they had them. Sid is now chasing romance, giving the impression of a more teenage mindset than a child like one. He has had girlfriends, but he goes too much too fast, and they don't last. Buck is forced to come to the surface, which is a HUGE change for him. He had the chance to in Dawn of the Dinosaurs but ultimately decided to stay because it was his home, but he left that familiarity to try and warn Manny and the herd, which is monumental. When they get to Geotopia, the community inside the original asteroid, it's very similar to a cult. The one charismatic leader, who turns out to not be so charismatic. Sid finds the love of his life, a perfect match. His antics come in gain though, and when the crystal falls apart, Brook is aged. The way they both respond to this is so so so so important. He still loves her, still thinks she is beautiful, does not understand why her being older would prevent them from being together. Brook, as well, is still enamored by him, even though she's lost her home and youth because of him. The Llama LOOSES it and blames Sid very angrily and Brook DEFENDS him. They both continue to love each other despite their perceived flaws. He's no longer alone or abandoned because he "messes up". To her, he is perfect, and vice versa. Manny and Peaches sort their shit out in the typical "near death experience" kind of way, but Diego and Shira, we don't see things change for them till the very end, at Peaches' wedding. The children that were previously scared of them, are eager to hear Diego and Shira's story about helping save the world. They still have their fangs and claws, but their actions proved that they are kind and caring and the children noticed that. In return, it eases the fear the two sabers had about their own future children.

In summary, do NOT bullshit me and say that the series as a whole is not impactful, because it is. There's so much more I could say about it, if I included historical context as well but I didn't to keep it a little shorter.

I think a lot about how in Ice Age 1 a huge theme is the slow but unstoppable advancement of the human species as they start to threaten previously unchallenged megafauna (hunting the pack of the antagonist sabertooth and killing Manny the mammoth’s family) and then in all the sequels they just fuckin disappear

[ckret2]

Chapter 85 of human Bill Cipher getting a ✨💅 makeover 💇‍♀️✨ so he can seduce a government agent into not arresting him and/or the Mystery Shack gang: a flashback to Scalene & Euclid on Bill's birthday, Pacifica receiving the world's most inept lesson about fatphobia, and the continued adventures of the Pines family attempting to get a flash drive out of a goat's guts.

####

Scalene braced one shaking hand with the other as she reapplied her lipstick—a red so bright it was nearly orange, all the better to make her look a little less sickly than she felt.

She tried to pretend she didn't notice Euclid glaring daggers at her.

She'd come out of her swoon as she was being helped outside by several shapes, including Euclid supporting her with one arm and carrying Bill in the other. Once they were outdoors, someone had shoved the trophy and knives Bill had won into Euclid's hands, and then they'd been left outside as everyone else's attention turned to dealing with the mysterious fire that had spontaneously ignited inside; and for the past few minutes, Scalene had been putting herself back together while Euclid tried to soothe Bill.

Finally, once she deemed herself sufficiently presentable, she held out her arms to Euclid and their still-whimpering child. "All right, I can take him."

Euclid didn't move.

"Come on! You're not gonna hold a grudge against me for fainting, are you?"

Euclid said, "What did I tell you?"

"I brought my cane," Scalene said indignantly.

"Well, where was it?"

There was a long silence.

"Lene..."

"Oh, don't give me that look, it was just behind the curtain! I wasn't about to bring it on stage, I had to make sure Billy looked good!"

"What does your cane have to do with how good he looks?!"

"And the mayor didn't hand over the trophy fast enough," she said, ignoring Euclid's question. "If he had, I could have leaned on that. But no, he just kept yammering on..."

Euclid's copper blue eye had the most piercing glare in town. The fact that he also had the worst eyesight in town did nothing to dispel its power. Scalene much preferred when it was aimed at other people.

But then Bill wiggled his tiny hands toward Scalene with a displeased coo; and with a warning, "Careful," Euclid finally handed him over. "So. He didn't do too bad for his first outing. We've got a winner on our hands?"

Scalene was off the hook. She relaxed. "I think we do. The judges were very impressed he showed up to his first contest on his birthday." 

"You'll only be able to do that once," Euclid pointed out.

"Sure, but for the rest of his life he can tell judges he went to his first pageant on the day he was born—can't you?" She directed the question to Bill. "Yes you can! That shows real ambition!" She poked one of his sides just beneath his eye. "And they were impressed by his good looks and how calm he is."

That was well deserved. Bill had entered the world with eye wide open—rather than face scrunched up and eye retracted to cry like most infants—and looking around for his parents, as though he were already used to the light and recognized his surroundings.

"Glad the judges didn't find it creepy, at least," Euclid said.

Scalene waved him off. "What did those nurses know? They should've been grateful to get a kid that isn't wailing in their faces! They couldn't appreciate how adorable he is—but look at him. From the front you'd think he's an oval." It was true: his corners were soft and rounded, and his angles were so flexible that his top angle squashed down toward his feet, making it look more like a right angle than acute. On top of that, his bright, shining pupil was so wide it took up half his face. "One of the judges said he looks downright cherubic. That's going on your resumé, young triangle."

Bill blinked sweetly up at his mother. He would never in his life need to write a resumé, for all the worst reasons.

"And—" Euclid lowered his voice, "—none of them realized how many birth defects he has?"

She swatted his arm. "Shh! No. Everything we've got is too obscure. As far as the pageant circuit is concerned, they're birth assets. My corners were still round when I started competing, and the judges thought I was adorable, too. As long as he goes on stage without braces on, they'll think he looks unique instead of deformed—just like I did."

"If he keeps going on stage without braces, he'll need a cane before he's middle-aged, just like you do."

"Not until his best pageant years are behind him," Scalene said icily. "Besides, we'll do better by him than my mother did for me. We already know what he has—"

"—we think we do, you left before the doctors could examine him—"

"—and I've already got appointments lined up for him with the best orthopedic doctor in the county and your and Euler's optometrist. We'll make sure his face stays pretty, his angles sharpen up, and his organs don't collapse in on themselves. He's just lucky he's got a mother that knows how to make that big eye of his look cute instead of bulgy." She pointed at the trophy, "As long as his good looks keep winning prizes, he'll be able to pay off his own medical bills and bring home a few bonuses."

For the first time, Euclid turned his attention to the trophy and the Knifeco gift box, and he laughed sharply. "Knifeco's still got the myor convinced that the next sample set he gives away for free will get everybody excited to order a full set from him, huh?"

Scalene scoffed. "I don't know why anybody would bother to order one. If they wait long enough and show up to a few city events, eventually they'll win a full set. How much of his own money has he spent on knife sample sets by now?"

"Last I heard? 30, 40k? We probably won't find out how much he's embezzled from city funds 'til next election."

"Otto's an idiot," Scalene said. "After all these years, you'd think he'd figure out the only way to make money at that company is to recruit more salesmen and get a cut of the profits from the kits they sell."

"You'd think." Euclid shrugged impassively. "But as long as I'm still getting 5% from each of his sales to himself, I'm not about to tell him that." He rubbed a thumb on one of Scalene's corners, rubbing off a bit of waxy red side liner to expose the duller pink underneath. "We probably wouldn't be able to afford your makeup habit without him."

Scalene swatted Euclid's hand away. "Well, we can throw away your old chipped set." She patted the dark wood box. "From now on, we're using the set Billy won for us—isn't that right, Billy?" She bounced Bill lightly by her side. He was staring at the box, transfixed. "I think he likes it! That's right, these are your birthday knives, sweetheart."

When his parents looked at the box, they only saw the dark wood; but Bill saw through the wood—over the wood—to the silvery needlelike knives within. They gleamed with starlight shining down from a higher dimension. And then Bill looked up at the stars, glittering far above. He wiggled in Scalene's arm, but couldn't figure out how to move his limbs in the direction he saw above.

Euclid looked at the wiggling child, and tensed up. "Lene. Look at his eye."

She did, and sucked in a sharp breath. "What happened to him?"

"If this is because you dropped him..."

Bill's pupil had disappeared, leaving his eye looking empty and bloodshot silver. But at the change in the tone of his parents' voices, he blinked and focused on them curiously, his pupil back where it belonged like it had never disappeared.

They stared speechlessly at him.

"Did you and Euler's eyes ever do that?" Scalene asked. "Before those surgeries you got as kids?"

"Not—not that I remember. But I could ask Mom and Dad," he said, already knowing the answer would be no.

She stared at Bill's eye a moment longer; but when he didn't do anything but stare back innocently, she sighed. "Well, that's something else we can ask your optometrist. Maybe he'll have a fix for it."

####

While Pacifica was in the bathroom cleaning up after their makeup experimentation, Goldie stood from his folding chair to lean on the desk next to Mabel, staring with a look of intense concentration into the air over the chair about where his head had been.

"What's up?" Pacifica asked, leaning out of the bathroom.

Distractedly, Goldie said, "Nothing, just watching you do my face."

Pacifica frowned. "What? I'm over here?"

Mabel leaned between them, laughing nervously. "What he means is, he does this thing where he, uhh, imagines that he can see what happened around him in the past, so he's... pretending he's watching you put makeup on his face a few minutes ago." At Pacifica's skeptical look, Mabel hastily added, "It's not like a psychic thing or anything! It's just a... um..."

Goldie mumbled, "Mindfulness visualization exercise."

"Yeah! It helps him memorize stuff! Right?"

"You bet. All the best venture capitalists are doing it."

Pacifica said, "Oh, I think a CEO my dad invited over was talking about that. Is it like a meditation thing? You think about what you want to get it?"

"Say it until you believe it, believe it until it's true!" Mabel said.

Goldie elbowed her. "Look who's been paying attention." She beamed at him.

Pacifica packed the makeup, brushes, and spare hair ties and pins he'd need in a bag, and handed it over. "Okay, that should take care of your face. When you shower tonight, remember to wash all the makeup off, you do not want this messing with your pores; remember to moisturize or your skin will crack apart like a mummy's"—one of her mother's favorite threats—"get Mabel to help pin your curls tomorrow, and just do what I showed you for the rest. Now we just have to worry about clothing." She sized up his hair color, his skin color—couldn't quite bring herself to look at his eye color, though. "I think you're a spring. You can probably pull off some autumn colors too. But usually springs are supposed to tan easier than they burn..."

"I do!" He gestured at himself, sunburns and all, and said proudly, "This took hard work!"

That answered a question she'd been asking herself all day, and brought up half a dozen more. "Not going to ask. So, you want to go for bright, clear, warm colors. And you'll look better in gold accessories."

"I know," he said smugly.

Colors were the easy part. She wished she'd had time to call up her personal tailor to bring by some dresses that could be adjusted. Goldie had such a weird body shape—narrow shoulders, sticklike arms, slender calves, and then a wide waist and even wider hips. There couldn't be much clothing that fit him, masculine or feminine. "Do you have any cute clothes in colors that flatter you? Feminine clothes?"

"What's feminine? Dresses?" Goldie turned to Mabel. "Everything else is hit-or-miss, but dresses and skirts are still universally feminine around here, right?" Pacifica was dying to know what Goldie's life had been like.

"Yeah," Mabel said, "I think we managed to get that yellow summer dress at the mall."

Pacifica winced. "Is a summer dress all you've got?" Not the worse choice, depending on the cut, but it probably wouldn't do his figure any favors.

"It's either that or Jesús's grandma's skirts," Goldie said, shrugging. "Did we manage to snag that sparkly dress with all the pink peacock feathers?"

"That's more of a third date dress. You don't want him to think you're out of his league," Mabel said. "It's too bad we didn't get that galaxy print skirt."

"You know what I could really use? Halter top trapeze dress. Maybe stick a petticoat under the skirt for extra volume. They've gotta make trapeze dresses with petticoats somewhere."

"I could probably make one," said Mabel (who wasn't even sure what a trapeze dress was but was over the moon to see him voluntarily express an interest in human clothing).

Pacifica's face twisted in a grimace. Pityingly, she said, "Oh, you really don't know your body type at all."

He gave her an unimpressed look. "Don't I?"

The thing was, a trapeze dress in and of itself wasn't a bad idea: it was tight around the bust, flared out like a tent underneath, and stopped before the knees; so it could highlight his slim shoulders and arms, let him show off his thin calves, and do at least a bit to conceal those thunder thighs and flabby waistline. But... "A halter top would make your shoulders look way too narrow; and a petticoat would completely undermine the flattering effects of a trapeze dress, and—where would you even position the petticoat? Trapeze dresses doesn't have a waistline."

"About where the skirt starts," Goldie said, drawing a line in the air around bust height.

He couldn't be serious. "Absolutely not. You'd look like a walking triangle."

A smile of near maniacal glee stretched across Goldie's face. Before he could say anything, Mabel grabbed his arm and said, "I think you should just go with what Pacifica says! Pacifica, what do you think?"

"Just—stick with the dress you already have." Between a triangle trapeze dress, the threat of pink feathers, and galaxy print, suddenly Pacifica was grateful for the yellow summer dress. "It's great. Summer dresses are flirty. Do you have shoes that match it?"

Goldie pointed at his fish slippers. "It's these, black oxfords, or foam clogs."

"No," Pacifica said. "Sandals, flats, or open toe heels. And throw away the fish slippers."

"Never."

Mabel said, "You could reuse the sandals you borrowed from Dipper for your Summerween costume?"

"Please don't tell me what they look like," Pacifica said. "Okay, dress, shoes—accessories... just, get something nice but understated. And classy. Do I need to explain what 'classy' looks like?"

"Relax, I used to have a collection of gold that put Albion Art to shame," Goldie said. "I know how to do 'classy.'"

"I'm going to pretend I trust you," Pacifica said. "Okay, underwear—got to wear a bra unless the dress has built-in support; and if you hurry, it's probably not too late to go wherever poor people shop and grab some shapewear for your..." she gestured vaguely toward Goldie's abdomen, "problem area..."

"No," Goldie said flatly. "I'm drawing the line at shapewear. I look fine."

Ooh, not good. His attitude toward everything else about his looks ranged from "apathy" to "disgust," why was flaunting his not-flauntworthy curves the point where he chose to push back? She should've been more direct with him.  "Hon, I love the confidence, but..." Pacifica grimaced apologetically. "You're fat. Like, really fat. And you're not gonna win this guy if he thinks you've let yourself go."

Mabel shot from slouching to sitting straight up. "Pacifica!"

"What, it's true! He probably thinks having skinny arms hides it, but back me up here—it is not subtle."

"Don't say that, he's beautiful!!"

Pacifica had been braced for Goldie to be outraged, embarrassed, ashamed, go into denial, something—just about anything except snort with laughter. He waved them off when they looked at him. Pacifica wondered whether he'd misunderstood the conversation. "Listen to you two! You're letting the subtext do so much of the heavy lifting that you don't even realize half the things you're saying." His gaze on them was cold and faintly amused; and for a moment Pacifica felt like a bug whose behavior was being studied by some immense alien being, and who had been judged inferior.

"Anyway, I'm not trying to hide anything—and I'd make it less subtle if I could. I love my shape!" He pantomimed his shape with his hands—although, where most people would sort of draw an hourglass shape if they wanted to their body's curves, the shape he drew in the air looked more like a triangle. Which, admittedly, was more true to his actual appearance. "And you're changing it over my dead bo—" He winced, muttering, "Maybe not the best way to put that."

Now Pacifica wondered if she'd misunderstood him. "What."

"Look, kid..." Goldie stood straighter, put a hand on Pacifica's shoulder, and adopted the most patronizing tone she'd ever heard. "I know your parents taught you the only things contributing to your personal worth are how rich you are and how attractive other people find you, so let's agree that's all that really matters, right?"

"Um," said Pacifica, who was pretty sure she was about to receive some twee lesson about 'inner beauty' but had never heard one that started with the lecturer agreeing that wealth and looks were the most important things.

"And I know Missy Priscy's got you convinced that your beauty and your weight are engaged in a battle to the death over the right to terraform your flesh. So this might blow your mind—but you've been lied to! The sight of a human female over size 4 doesn't cause the contents of a human male's gonads to curdle! Fat chicks have been successfully getting hitched and passing the genetic baton to their offspring for all of human history—and reproduction is the only objective benchmark evolution has to measure who's hot and who's not, so you can rate that higher than the opinion of a tarnished trophy who thinks enough botox will make her immortal. Hear what I'm saying, Alpaca. Absorb it. Incorporate it into your worldview."

She bristled at the description of her mother, but swallowed back the urge to lash out. He was bitter and taking it out on her. He was feeding her a load of sour grapes. This was just the kind of thing fat people told themselves to feel less bad about being fat. "Riiight."

Goldie's patronizing smirk curled down at one corner in irritation. "Ah, who'm I kidding! You're not gonna believe me! Your mom, your modeling job, the pageant world, the beauty industry—they've burrowed way too deep in your head, and there's no digging them back out without a lobotomy." He scoffed. "You're one snide jab at the wrong time away from an eating disorder."

"Hey! How dare you!" Pacifica thought that was way meaner than anything she'd said.

Mabel snapped, "B—Goldie! Be nice! What's gotten into you two!"

"Yeesh, touched a nerve! Excuse me!" He raised his hands apologetically, but he was grinning impishly. "Anyway—" he raised his voice as the girls attempted to scold him again, "Anyway! More to the point—our target looked me up and down in a bikini and asked if he could help slather sunscreen around my waist, so I think he thinks my body looks great in the shape it's already in. And getting the guy is the only important thing—right?"

If Goldie was telling the truth, Pacifica couldn't think of any other reason some guy would volunteer to rub sunscreen on him—even if she found it hard to believe. And if he was making it up, then whatever, he could sabotage himself if he wanted, she didn't care. She rolled her eyes, grit her teeth, and muttered, "Fine."

"Not fine! Both of you hold on!" Mabel stood, decided she wasn't tall enough, and climbed on the folding chair.  "You two were just really mean to each other! That's terrible—especially after you were getting along so great! Apologize to each other!" She crossed her arms, glaring them down.

Pacifica stared at her in disbelief, brows raised. "I beg your pardon?"

But Goldie didn't look like this was odd to him at all. He just rolled his eyes—"All right, all right,"—and looked at Pacifica. "C'mon. You can't be that mad. You've heard worse."

She scowled at him, but she supposed she had. From her mom, her old pageant coach, her manager that got her modeling jobs—she was just more used to warnings about getting fat than she was to warnings about fearing getting fat. "So have you."

"Worse than you can imagine," Goldie said. "We're good?"

"We're good," Pacifica said.

Goldie looked at Mabel. "We're good!"

Mabel looked between the two of them suspiciously. "That was an apology?"

"Got the job done, didn't it?"

Mabel didn't look pleased, but she sat down on the folding chair and crossed her arms.

Pacifica said, "Okay, you're off the hook for shapewear—but if he thinks you look like a slob, it's on you."

He rolled his eyes. "Noted!"

"But you've got to wear a bra. What are the straps like on the summer dress, do you have a bra that'll fit under it okay?"

Goldie groaned. "We can reuse my bikini and pad the cups or something. We don't have time to go to the mall and figure out what size I am."

In horror, Pacifica quietly asked, "Do... do you not even own a bra."

"Why would I?" Goldie asked, like he couldn't imagine a single practical reason. Hard to tell his size through an oversized t-shirt; he was definitely small, but it wasn't like he was flat. "I've never really cared about local fashion outside of batiks, brocades, tie dyes, and sarcastic t-shirts, but now that it's affecting me personally? I cannot wait for that particular fad to die."

Since when were batiks local. And who calls bras a fad. That's like calling shoes a fad. "What is your life like," Pacifica asked.

Goldie grinned. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

####

"That's it. That's all I can do for you," Pacifica said. "Good luck on... whatever it is you're doing. Because I'm pretty sure you're not actually into this guy?"

Mabel said, "Wooing a federal agent to avoid getting the whole family arrested!"

Pacifica nodded. "Oh, cool. Let me know how that goes."

Mabel stopped to hug Giorgio on the way out.

As they left Pacifica's barn, Bill turned to face Mabel. "Welp!" He pantomimed like he was playing a violin, "Ready to bow on some poor sucker's heartstrings until we yank out his aorta?"

"Ha ha. Yeah. Sure." Mabel tried to smile and it came out as a grimace. "Sounds great."

"Hey, don't give me that look!" He shoved Mabel's shoulder. "You've heard me say gorier things than that!" He flashed her a grin she could only describe as bloodthirsty, and bounced off toward the road back to town, so cheerful he was very nearly floating.

And she watched him go, biting her lip.

Something had been bothering her since his argument with Pacifica:

She couldn't figure out why he wasn't better.

####

Bill nudged Mabel. "Hey. Am I in trouble?"

"What?"

"You've been giving me the silent treatment since we left." That had been about fifteen minutes earlier. "Is it because of the eating disorder thing? Do I have to apologize to you for that? It's not like I was insulting her! If anything, I did her a favor by warning her—"

She gave him a sour look—that had been very rude, even if not Bill's typical existential horror cosmic nightmare level rudeness—but said, "No, it's not that. I'm just thinking about stuff."

"Are you gonna share it, or do I have to wait until I can crawl inside your head again to find out?"

Mabel was silent a moment. "Do you actually like tie-dye?"

"That's what's bothering you?" He pulled his eyepatch back on—Pacifica had told him putting it back on would probably mess up his makeup, but that didn't really matter until tomorrow. "Of course I do, who doesn't! It's chaos on a shirt." He shrugged. "I've never had any—but, y'know, it's nice to look at, anyway."

"Wait, never? We should do tie-dye together! I can get us some white shirts and we can dye them outside," Mabel said. "Maybe I can invite Grenda and Candy!"

"Sounds like a party! Let me know when, you know what my schedule looks like."

"Great!" She beamed at him.

But as they walked, her smile slowly faded as she drifted back into her own thoughts.

His ideas about flirting were very hit or miss, but Mabel thought they were probably hits more often with aliens that thought dead salmon smelled sexy. He'd had a girlfriend, at any rate.

And he'd gotten chummy with Abuelita (even after she tried to poison him), he'd charmed Gideon's mom in like ten seconds, Wendy thought he was cool and so did half her gang, Candy and Grenda said he was fun, Mabel was pretty sure Stan kinda liked him even if he wouldn't admit it... He'd even managed to develop a rapport with Pacifica—Pacifica!—which had taken Mabel like two-thirds of the summer!—and he'd done it even though they'd insulted each other!

He was charming, he was fun, he clearly got romance...

So how come he didn't have true love and best friends that weren't evil?

The question itched at her brain.

Mabel firmly believed that the only thing that made people bad was not getting enough love. Family love, friend love, romance love, adorable cuddly pet love, whatever. Put love in, get love out; put nothing in, get a swirling vortex of loneliness and hatred where the love should have been stored. Like Prickly Bee in Color Critters! Who during season one had been one of the color-hating bad guys, but in season two had inexplicably joined the good guys due to network executive meddling, and it wasn't until season three that they did a flashback episode showing that the critters had won her over by showing her the kindness and caring that her old boss Serpent Grey never had!

And at the beginning of summer, after Mabel helped Bill get his hair back, he'd said it had been a long time since anyone had been nice to him; and he'd been nice to her since then, so that seemed to support her theory. All it took was a little love!

She just couldn't figure out why he didn't already have enough.

He had all those monster friends he'd tried to conquer the world with last year, but maybe they were those "people who claim to be friends but are actually allies who hate each other" that you see amongst cartoon villains. (Like Serpent Grey's minions.) Was it because they were aliens? Were aliens not good at friendship? Had he been deprived until now?

She remembered how heavy even the smallest glimpse at his pain had been—listening to him grieve over his own death. It was clear that, whatever he'd had before, what he needed now was better love, more friends—enough to share that psychological weight without collapsing—but how much would be enough to untwist his crooked morality?

Mabel was running out of time. Summer was almost halfway over. She only had seven more weeks to reintegrate Bill into society—to help him make amends for everything he'd done last summer—or else... or else she'd failed. She'd failed him. 

And she knew she was making progress with Bill, but she didn't know if it was enough. She wished he'd go faster. She wished summer would go slower. She wished she had more time.

She remembered what had happened the last time she'd wished for a little more summer.

So she'd just have to figure out how to save him in the time they had left. She couldn't just pick up a broken teacup, glue half the pieces together, then abandon it half-repaired to leak tea all over the floor. She was a problem solver, it was what she did. She had to solve this problem—or else everything she'd done this past year would be for nothing.

As they walked, she reached out to grab Bill's hand. He gave her a curious look, but he didn't pull it back.

"Was all that stuff true about you doing pageants as a kid?" (There must have been something in his past to explain why he didn't have enough love—maybe in his childhood.) "Or did you just make that up to make Pacifica relax?" (She guiltily remembered him accusing her of trying to "fix" him—how badly he'd been hurt by the thought.)

She felt his hand tense in her grip, but he shrugged dismissively. "They're not exactly identical to human beauty pageants—no real fashion component, for one thing—but, yeah. Did 'em as a kid. I went to my first pageant on the day I was born."

"So you lied when you told me you didn't do them yourself?"

"I did not," Bill said indignantly. "I just didn't correct you when you guessed wrong!"

At Mabel's sour look, Bill rolled his eye and said, "What, am I supposed to correct you every time you say something wrong? Because humans are wrong about just about everything—"

"Bill."

He huffed. "The specifics weren't any of your business, okay? It's—not something I talk about with humans. Or any other aliens, for that matter."

"Why not? Was it—"

"Because it's ancient history," he said sharply.

Mabel gave him a worried look. When he didn't elaborate, she said, "So, is it really as stressful as you and Pacifica made it sound?"

"Stressful!" Bill scoffed. "Name a part of life that isn't stressful. School, work, breeding a family, yadda yadda—better to learn how to handle it early, right? And it's only stressful if you're bad at it! I was good. I was very good."

"Good at what?" Mabel asked.

"Uh..." Bill had to grasp for a moment. "Being... cute. Charming the judges. Wowing 'em at the talent portion—when I wasn't starting fires. I really did play the piano! I mean—not a piano, but the closest equivalent my world had. There's nothing cuter than a kid playing an instrument he can hardly reach each end of." At Mabel's continued worried look, he said, "What! It was harmless. It was just a bunch of baby shapes bumbling around the stage looking adorable, that's all! It wasn't that bad!"

He was quiet for a moment; and then he repeated to himself, "It wasn't that bad."

####

"Don't get any closer," Stan said. "This place is about to be a toxic waste dump."

Bill and Mabel looked around Stan. In the middle of the clearing behind the Mystery Shack, a tent had been set up. Inside, a goat bleated in a plea for help.

Mabel asked, "Why?"

"Poindexter and your brother's plan to get that computer doohickey out of the goat the old-fashioned way didn't work. He wouldn't eat the concoction they mixed up. So they're getting it out of him the other old-fashioned way."

"Vivisection?" Bill asked hopefully.

"No—" Stan fell silent, squinted at Bill's face, and decided not to comment on his new look. "Vomit. You remember that witch's brew we used to chase off the flying eyeball that you—er—you knew?"

Mabel screwed up her face. "Oh, yuck, that was the worst thing I ever smelled."

Stan tipped his head toward the tent. "Well, they're about to detonate what's left of it."

"'Detonate'?"

Ford's voice came from the tent: "On the count of three! One... two..."

There was a muffled boom. The walls of the tent billowed outward and an orange ball of fire illuminated Ford, Dipper, and Gomper's silhouettes. Gompers let out a loud bleat of distress.

Voice strained, Dipper said, "Ugh, that smell—I think I'm gonna be—" He had to try a couple of times to unzip the tent, then stumbled out and landed on his hands and knees in the dirt, gasping for fresh air.

Ford—wearing a gas mask—ducked out of the tent. "I told you you'd want a mask."

"Smelling it in close quarters is way—" He clapped a hand over his mouth and gagged, "—way worse than I thought."

"Well?" Stan called. "Did anything come up?"

Ford peered back into the tent. "No."

Stan flung his hands up.

"Don't lose hope," Ford said. "I have a spell to induce vertigo somewhere. I don't remember all the words, but..."

Bill spent several seconds pretending he didn't notice Ford was staring directly at him before he said, "Can I help you?"

"You know the spell, don't you?"

"What, the Maximus Vertiginous? 'Course I do. Classic prank."

Ford stared at him expectantly. Bill said, "What?"

"How does it go?" Ford asked impatiently.

"Oh, you expect me to teach you?" Bill rolled his eye.

Mabel frowned up at him. "Come on, Bill, don't be a jerk."

The back of his neck started heating up as he realized the whole family was staring at him. He stood a little straighter. "Listen to you, ya little hypocrite! Aren't you the one who keeps showing me those cute cartoons telling me to be myself?" To Stanford, he said, "I don't tutor my dropouts. Go find your own notes, Stanford Pines."

Ford glowered at Bill, but then he left the tent, zipped it shut behind himself, and trudged toward the shack. His irritated muttering was muffled by the gas mask.

As soon as the door shut, Stan clapped his hands. "Okay! Ford's gone, now we're doing this my way." As he passed Dipper, he said, "C'mon, kid, chop chop. I need your help, your hands are smaller than mine."

Dipper groaned, but got back to his feet, pulled his shirt over his nose, and trudged back to the tent with Stan. "What are we doing?"

"The same thing you and Ford were—but more assertive! Sixer nixed my plan, but his obviously didn't work." Stan unzipped the tent's flap. "All right. I'll hold the goat's mouth open, you reach in."

"Ohhh no."

Bill's face lit up. "Heeey, that sounds fun! Let me try! My hands are small and I can actually see the flash drive!"

"Oh no you don't," Stan said. "We can't risk you picking up the eyeball repellant stink, you've gotta stay pretty until loverboy shows up!"

"What, so suddenly I'm too pretty to grope a goat's guts?" Bill stared at Mabel in disbelief, waiting for her to commiserate over this injustice.

Mabel—who was still a bit miffed about being called a hypocrite—said, "Let's just go in." As they walked to the porch, she said, "'Be yourself' doesn't mean be a jerk. It means 'don't hide your talents' and 'keep doing your hobbies even if other people think they're boring' and stuff."

"Yeah, well, what if one of my talents is being a jerk?"

Mabel groaned. "There's gotta be an episode that covers this."

As Stan entered the tent, he said, "Phew, that reeks! Hey, zip the tent when you come in."

Dipper hung back nervously, half in the tent and pinching his nose shut. "Grunkle Stan, I'm not sure about this idea."

"Come on, it—it can't be hard! Farmers do this. I think. Look, I'm doing the hard part, all you have to do is reach down his throat! Lemme just... get my fingers between his jaws...

Gompers bleated angrily. Stan hollered in pain.

"Oh, no!" Dipper dove for Gompers and landed in the dirt as the goat shot past. From the porch, Mabel and Bill could only watch as Gompers headed the other way.

Soos walked around the corner of the shack. "Hey, du—whoa!"

"Soos!" Dipper shouted. "Catch him!"

Soos dove to the side to get out of the way of the charging goat, watched him vanish into the forest, and said, "Aw—dude, I just did the opposite of what you asked me to do. That's totally my bad."

Ford opened the back door with a handful of papers and his gas mask pushed up on his forehead. "I heard shouting, what happened?"

"Uhhh," Soos said. "Gompers just escaped into the forest."

"What?! How?!"

Stan stumbled through the tent's flap, cradling a hand. "It was—it was totally unexpected. Just ran off for no reason. Completely unprompted," he said. "He also bit my hand. Don't ask why my hand was so close to his mouth."

Ford said, "Which way?! We have to follow him immediately! If the agents detect the drive's signal before we retrieve him—"

"Don't bother," Bill said. "As long as he's in the forest, if he doesn't want to be caught, he won't be. There's nothing you can do until he comes out."

Ford narrowed his eyes. "How are you so sure?"

"He ate some magic rocks."

"Ah. Well." He shrugged in defeat. Nothing they could do if he'd eaten magic rocks. "But what if he does want to be caught?"

Bill gestured toward the forest with a flourish. "If you think he's eager for more of the hors d'oeuvres and perfume you've been offering him today, go get 'im."

Stan cleared his throat. "Well—the good news is, when the agents get here, they won't find the thingamajig in the Mystery Shack! Eh? Ehhh?"

"Oh, yeah, that's what I was coming over to tell you guys," Soos said. "I was taking out the trash, and I saw this car parked just up the road, and it looked like the car the government dudes were in today, so, I think they're watching the shack now?"

There was a long silence as the group processed that.

"We can't be outside," Ford said. "If they see Stan they'll want to interrogate him, if they see Bill here after hours they'll know he's not a passing tourist, and if they see me they'll realize I'm not a superior officer from Washington—"

Bill slammed his fist on the back door. "Then stop rambling and let me in!"

Ford opened the door and ushered everyone inside. "Hurry!"

"But what about Gompers?" Dipper asked. "We've gotta at least try to find him before the agents do!"

"What if the agents follow you to Gompers?" Ford asked. Dipper hesitated.

Mabel said, "We can make disguises so they won't recognize us!" She took off her half of the enchanted friendship bracelets, chucked it toward the coat rack just inside the door, and ran upstairs. "Come on!"

Dipper shot one last worried look toward the forest, then followed her.

Ford shut the door and asked Stan in a low voice, "How long is Gompers usually gone when he wanders off?"

"No telling. Sometimes I don't see him for weeks at a time."

Soos said, "So if they're gonna keep looking until they find that drive, but we can't go looking because they're watching us, and Gompers doesn't come back, so we can't find the drive, and they can't find the drive... then, how do we get rid of them?"

"We don't," Stan said. "Unless they find something more interesting than the drive."

As Bill added his end of the bracelet to the coat rack, he was keenly aware of three sets of eyes on him. He could see the cold gray walls of his cell in the— of the surgical suite in Hangar 618. Oh, he was certainly a billion times more interesting than some lousy drive; and if the eagles figured that out...

"Distracting them for a few hours won't cut it, will it," Ford asked him.

Bill pushed away the phantom psychological weight of heavy ankle cuffs and cheap orange fabric. "Doesn't look like it. You'll need some other way to make them leave."

Grimly, Ford said, "It looks like your job just got a lot more important."

####

(Your "what was edited due to TBOB" roundup: as mentioned in an earlier chapter, some of the specifics of the pageant scene came from TBOB—the name of the "best baby ever" award and the mayor handing out free knives. But everything else was plotted well before TBOB—including Bill being born able to see the stars, having a condition that makes him unusually flexible (which lines up with Baby Bill's squishy look quite well), and his parents getting him medical treatment at a very young age due to, among other things, his weird eye. Most of the rest of the chapter was written pre-TBOB.

Although my god did i rewrite the conversation about Bill's weight a hundred times. This has been a high priority to work into the fic for some time! I wanted to make it clear that Bill's body shape isn't merely a cosmetic part of his character design but something with actual in-world impact, that for him it's a positive and not meant to be punitive or a joke, and that Pacifica's got issues and we're gonna be dealing with them. The hard part was doing all that while avoiding Bill sounding like an enlightened angel spreading the gospel of fat positivity to the ignorant masses, rather than what he actually is: a selfish alien who realizes humans are being stupid but whose only personally investment in this issue is convincing a 13-year-old not to make him wear spanx. 

Next week, the agents are finally back, and Bill gets to put all that flirting practice into action! I'm sure he'll do a great job.)

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

There has been requests about getting a full body colour for Kook!Ford, so here he is, in all his beige, white, and brown minimalist glory <3 (THERE’S A REASON WHY HE HAS SUCH A BORING PALETTE I PROMISE)

Stupid colour rambles that are WAYY too in depth and probably mostly far fetched but this is my AU and I get to pick how much over-analysis goes into the characters’ colour schemes, fuck you:

Ford:

Characterised by pale, almost pastel-ish colours to emulate a sort of sick, unhealthy look.

The paler colours add to the illusion of Ford lacking presence, almost disappearing into the background, to convey how his existence often ignored or dismissed by most of the townsfolk.

Without any visually striking or contrasting colours in his palette itself, his own features blend into one another, blurring the details and diminishing any identifiable traits that would have typically identified him as Ford, or even a person (<- if that mindfuck of a sentence make any sense)

Hints of yellow to show remnants Bill's past influence on him. Because I’m dramatic like that.

Fiddleford:

Deep, rich forest greens with golden accents (influences of Bill appearing in his outfit) (I need to hammer Fidds out a lil’ more ngl)

Stanley:

Deep, rich blues and purples (opposite spectrum of yellow, aka. Bill's colour, which means = safety to Ford)

The inside lining of his jacket is vivid red, to reference his original colours palette and as a representation of his past self being hidden underneath the layers of his predominantly blue exterior, colours representative of his new identity (also red = warm and blue = cold)

His colours palette will eventually open up into something warmer on the outside, veering into purple.

Extra notes on his character: Stan (in this AU) is colder and quieter than his canon counterpart. After years of being in the mafia business, and years of running it as well, he has long since learned to mask his facial expressions and master the poker face (*cough cough* resting bitch face *cough cough*). But, his intimidating and serious air does not serve him any favours when it comes to literally anything other than his “work”, his inexperience when it comes to emotions all the more apparent with the twins. He has trouble expressing his feelings outwardly, and despises this part of himself, because it reminds him of his own father. He feels as though he is failing the twins by being too cold and distant, and tries his best to open up more.

Mabel:

Maintains her original colours palette with pink, but has more hints of red in her outfit, similar to Stan’s, particularly around her sleeves (allusion to “wearing your heart on your sleeves.” Yes, I know that it’s tacky)

The red shows she is more inclined to trust Stan, as she is willing to see past Stanley’s exterior facade of cold aloofness to see his “true” colours (good HEAVENS that is disgustingly cheesy to say but idk how else to really word this)

Extra notes on her character: Mabel trusts Stan fully. Perhaps a little too much. She I dolises Stan to an almost unhealthy degree, and is constantly plagued with the underlying fear of somehow losing Stan’s “interest”, as their mother seemed to have lost interest in her and Dipper. Deeply fears being abandoned again, and believes she “owes” Stan for having adopted them. She believes it is her fault that neither of their parents wanted the twins during the divorce.

Dipper:

Maintains original colour palette with blues, but pretty solidly lacks red in his outfit. He serves as the opposite spectrum of Mabel, instead being unwilling to fully trust Stan and takes him at face value.

Extra notes on his character: Dipper does not trust Stan, and is far more hyperaware of what kind of “business” their “uncle” runs. He is mostly worried about Mabel’s slight obsession with pleasing him, and fears that if they don’t behave, Stan might use his dangerous power and influence against them. He is convinced that Stan had ulterior motives to adopting them, cannot fathom what he, a seeming stranger with all the power in the world, could possibly hope to gain in adopting two abandoned children. Even more so, when even their parents didn’t seem to want them.

[hyunjuenthusiast]

Im craving for angst , so girl can you write about Hyun ju x female reader

Basically Hyun ju and female reader have been dating for 1 and half year now, but things didn't went so well after attending squid game, Hyun ju gave young mi more attention , than she did for female reader so she distance herself from Hyun ju and her team, wondering why female reader ditched her. So female reader went to Gi Hun's team instead. And to make things worse not only Hyun ju voted O to continue the game, but Hyun ju lost the love of her life during the Mingle, ANND.. It took Hyun ju 2 to 4 business days to figure out that she hasn't been a good girlfriend ever since they came to squid game and Hyun ju Crashes out so badly.

(Female reader committed su!cide during Mingle, died instead of young mi and the shaman lady predicted female reader's death)

(And YES the guilt is definitely eating Hyun ju alive)

Sorry if this is too long

Take your time for this one

゜・（／。＼）・゜

Okayyyy complex, I like it! Hopefully I do this ask justice 🙏🏻

HER ANGEL

Pairing: Hyun-ju x femreader

Warnings: ANGST, depression, death, suicide, longing, survivors guilt.

Insecure. That was a word Y/n had always been familiar with. Ever since she was little. Her mother would criticize everything she did. If she ate too much, if she didn't eat enough. If her hair was down, if her hair was up. If she smiled, and if she didn't smile. Everything she did up until she was an adult was judged.

When she finally got the taste of freedom, moving out at the ripe age of eighteen, she discovered that the world was an ugly place. Nothing like how she fantasized how it would be. The books were wrong.

For the first few years after moving out, she was alone. Truly alone. She had no one. No friends to call late at night, no fuzzy kitten to cuddle when she had tears running down her face on a rainy day. No significant other who would whisper sweet nothings to her as she fell asleep... No one.

Not until she met her angel. Hyun-ju.

Everything had changed. For the first time in her life, Y/n felt like she deserved to take up space in the world. Hyun-ju made her feel wanted, loved. She erased every insecurity Y/n had. She loved every flaw and imperfection. She kissed her scars and wiped her tears.

Hyun-ju was her soul mate.

Y/n didn't care that her angel was different. She didn't care how people looked at them in public. Hyun-ju was perfect, in every way. Even if her angel couldn't see it for herself.

Hyun-ju told Y/n of her wishes for surgery. She had cried to Y/n about her debt and abandonment. And Y/n was there to comfort her in return, wiping her angels tears away and whispering promises.

So when a nice-looking man asked Y/n to play a game, showing her the money she would win, of course she agreed. For her angel, for Hyun-ju.

Y/n didn't need convincing to call the number on the back on the card. Once she saw Hyun-ju looking at herself in front of the mirror, her eyes filled with loathing, she dialed the number.

It was the least she could do. Hyun-ju had given Y/n her sense of self back. She had given Y/n her smile back. Of course, she would return the favor. Anything for her angel.

Waking up to the blasted music, she looked around to see other people. Waring the ugliest green she had ever seen. Looking down at herself, she saw her jacket was labeled 005.

She gathered around like everyone else. Waiting for an explanation. There were so many pink guards and even more players. They explained that they weren't trying to collect debt or cause any harm.

"Excuse me!" Said a voice. Not just any voice. Her angel's voice. Y/n quickly turned and saw Hyun-ju. Her Hyun-ju standing near a couple of bunks. She didn't catch what her angel said next, only focused on the fact that she was here.

Y/n winced as she saw Hyun-ju getting slapped. That was the day her angel had gone on a walk. She remembers her coming home, acting strange. Hyun-ju had met the salesman before Y/n did.

As all the players walked in single file lines up the colorful steps to get their pictures taken, Y/n looked around for Hyun-ju. Seeing her fixing her hair prettily, she smiles and quickly walks up to her. "Angel!" Y/n gushes.

Instead of greeting Y/n with a smile, Hyun-ju tenses. Asking her what she was doing here. "I know how much you need the money..." Y/n whispers softly, watching as Hyun-ju's eyes soften.

As they all walk into the first game, Hyun-ju holds Y/n's hand. "Don't separate from me, sweet girl. Okay?" Her angel asks softly. Y/n squeezes her hand in return.

"What is that?" Y/n asks, pointing to the giant doll like figure in the distance.

"Green light..."

Y/n quickly runs forward a few steps, then stops.

"Red light!" The doll waits, seeing if anyone would move.

The first to go was 196. Y/n stood, stiff as a board, the sound of people dying behind her. When the doll says green light, no one moves forward, but Hyun-ju reaches over and grips Y/n's hand.

Player 456 explains that they will die anyway if they don't cross the finish line in time, and so, she stays behind Hyun-ju, racing towards the finish line.

Once across, she watches in horror as her angel races back across to help player 456. This is the first and only time that Y/n has ever wanted to yell at Hyun-ju.

The second game is the six legged pentathlon. Her and Hyun-ju look around for more teammates. She notices Hyun-ju's fallen expression when people stare at her, and when they don't want to join because of her.

"Excuse me?" A timid voice says from behind the both of them. Y/n and Hyun-ju turn to see a small girl, obviously nervous. "W-Would you...like to team up with me?" She asks, looking at Hyun-ju first, then to Y/n.

Ever since then, Hyun-ju had been attached at the hip with Young-Mi. It was hard for Y/n not to notice, especially in a place like this. When she wanted comfort and reassurance from her angel, she would see that Hyun-ju was already comforting Young-Mi, that she was already whispering words of encouragement to her instead of Y/n.

But that was just who her angel was. She was kind to everyone, and Y/n had no right to take that away from Young-Mi. Y/n could clearly see how terrified the small girl was, and if Hyun-ju was her safe place, then who was Y/n to take that away from her?

That's was until Y/n heard it. What Hyun-ju was saying to Young-Mi.

"I won't let anything happen to you, sweet girl." Hyun-ju had said. Y/n felt her stomach drop. Sweet girl. That was Y/n's nickname. That was her word of endearment.

She decided to give them space. Joining player 456 and his team.

The third game was mingle.

As they all stood on the platform, Y/n watched as Hyun-ju held Young-Mi's hand, giving her soft smiles. Y/n felt horrible for feeling envious. Would she always be cursed to be this insecure? Would she ever feel content with anything?

"TEN"

The voice said. Everyone scrambled to find their groups and rooms. So far, their team had nine after joining Hyun-ju. Until her angel grabbed the crazy shaman lady.

Running into the green room, Y/n pants, not even bothering to look at her angel holding onto another woman. Hyun-ju gives her a confused look, wondering why she had left their group.

"Your heavy sorrow will swallow you whole." The crazy lady says, making everyone look at her. Y/n shrinks into herself as she realizes that she's talking to her. "You won't last much longer, I'm afraid. Pity. You have the purest birthstone."

"SIX" the voice says.

Gi-hun and Young-il had split from the group, leaving Y/n no other choice but to join Hyun-ju.

They all run to a yellow door, freezing in their tracks as they see a group is already in there. Hyun-ju races to find a different one.

She found one.

Y/n starts to run towards it with the other people in her group, but when she sees player 333 running towards it too, she slows down.

Looking over at her angel, she sees her clutching Young-Mi's hand.

The pregnant girl holds her belly.

The mother and sun cling to each other.

Where did Y/n fit into that? She didn't.

She has seen Jun-hee talking to player 333 on several occasions...

She needed him, more than any of them needed Y/n.

She made her decision then.

As player 333 races into the room, she finally hears Hyun-ju calling for her. Her angel was trying to get 333 out of the way.

Y/n walks to the door, looking into the small slit. "Y/n, what the hell are you doing? Go find a room! Go!" Hyun-ju shouts. Y/n only shakes her head softly.

"Ita okay angel." She whispers, putting her hands onto the door. Hyun-ju is starting to panic. The timer still had thirteen seconds on it. "I know there's no place for me here. Not now." Y/n says, tearing up.

Hyun-ju continues to shout, begging Y/n to go find a room. "You made me feel so inside the lines, Hyun-ju. Like I wasn't a lost shade outside of the pretty design. I could actually fit inside the art." Y/n says with a sad smile.

"I never thanked you for that." She says. "Thank you for showing me. For guiding me to see who I was for the first time."

Nine seconds on the timer.

"I know you'll be happy. You'll make it out of here and live the life you've always dreamed of...live the life you've always deserved. A life, with Young-Mi." Y/n's lip quivers.

Four seconds on the timer.

Hyun-ju starts shaking the door, sobbing and yelling. "I love you, my angel." She whispers tearfully, letting out a pained breath as she feels the bullet peirce her back.

"NO! Y/N!"

Player 333 had left that room beaten to a bloody pulp.

At first, Young-Mi's hand doesn't feel out of place instead of her own, not for the next two games.

Until Y/n's words repeat instead of her head.

A life...with Young-Mi.

Once she realizes it, she drops Young-Mi's hand as if it had burned her. She had been holding the wrong woman. Comforting the wrong woman. Calling her...

She had called the wrong woman sweet girl.

Hyun-ju looks over to Young-Mi, a tear falling. She had made the love of her life question her love.

She had been at fault for her sweet girl's death. Not 333. Not even the guards. Hyun-ju was the reason.

"Don't worry. You'll be seeing her again, " the shaman says. "A lot sooner than you think."

For the next game... was human chess.

I'm scared.... what do we think?

[lilithofpenandbook]

Discrediting the canon because the author's a bigot is, frankly, rather stupid. You're not making it any less "problematic" by completely changing the characters' personalities, especially if you're still using the characters' names, and making them "queer". And I'd argue it's a very poor, uninteresting version of queerness, especially when you take the canon into account and how much more potential there is to explore those characters as queer.

Sirius Black, hyper-masculine to a serious fault. Aggressive, abusive, everything about his family that he hates but that he's not taken time to unlearn. Why not explore him, in his mid thirties, watching as everyone looks at him with something akin to pity, because poor Sirius, acting like this in such a grown age, poor man is rather pathetic, isn't he, and starting to question why. Why does everyone see him like that, and not how he wants them to see him? And he ends up slowly unlearning his toxic behaviour that way.

Or Sirius, being a trans man. The start of his battle with his mother over his very identity as a boy, not the perfect daughter she wanted. And it's established in his mind very early: womanhood, feminity itself, is bad. And he doesn't unlearn that in Hogwarts. He bullies Snape, who's clearly feminine in his very nature, unable to fathom why someone born a man would ever behave in that way, unable to understand his viewpoints are wrong, skewed by his childhood resentment and trauma.

Remus, he could so easily be queer, and had to hide it to fit in with his friends. Joining in with bullying Snape, as a way to make up for his "wrongness". Heck, even Peter could be queer and still in line with his canon personality.

Severus Snape? He's written like a female character. He is easily the queerest one. Heck, the bullying he faced even lines up with it.

Take those characters with their true flaws and faults, make them queer, and you've got a far more complicated story than the fanon version. Then again, perhaps they're too "flawed" for you. Perhaps they're too real, too human in those flaws.

This fandom is a fun place to do what we want, yes. But if you have to completely remove the characters' personalities, bring people in via the medium of ooc fanfiction, and even hound on people who actually point out the canon personalities of the characters and who want to see said canon, then you're in the wrong fandom. Full stop. And for all JKR's bigoted attitudes, she still wrote the story. You can't take that away just because she's a bad person. That's not how people work. Horrible people can create brilliant things. Bad people can create good stories, good characters. It's childish to immediately view something made by a bad person and ignore everything they made while still using it. You're not "reclaiming" it, or flipping the bird at JKR for creating this ooc fandom in any way.

You can like the series despite the author who wrote it. And if you can't, if you have to change everything to like it, then you don't like the series, and you need let go of the names taken from it. Call it an AU, even.

But don't go acting like there's no canon, and that people are wrong for wanting canonically accurate interpretations, because they fell in love with those characters, despite the author who wrote them

ppl be posting shit like "I miss canon Marauders"

Babes, there is no "canon" Marauders. Most of the shit ya'll think is canon, are just old headcanons that used to be widespread before other (usually queerer) headcanons gained popularity.

There is so little information about the "canon" Marauders - and even the info we have cannot be trusted because it's usually memories, influenced by a character's bias - that trying to make a somewhat comprehensive character out of the given material is impossible, let alone 4 characters.

Everything is fanon. Everything is headcanon. And that's the beauty of this fandom.

(Ofc my favourite part is when something actually is canon via the books or movies, and people reject it as fanon.)

[mamayura]

Adrien not knowing what he wants

Hot take about Werepapas, I guess:

I actually like that Adrien said "I don't know" when asked what he wants/ who he wants to go with at the end of "Werepapas"

Cause the people who had to learn and come around in this episode's conflict were the ADULTS, not Adrien.

Adrien has already said that he isn't alone, he's living with Nathalie,

and Milly, too, acknowledged right away that Adrien has known her for most of his life so for Adrien she should count as more much than just an employee by now.

And he has not been trying to hide it whatsoever from Nathalie how much she means to him and that he wants to keep living with her. Literally the first thing we see in the episode's present time is Adrien running to Nathalie for comfort when hes crying over his dead mom, but she's pulling back so he does too eventually.

Marinette as pretty much unrelated main character doesnt know about this when she enters the conflict. Hence why she can effectively bring about development in Nathalie by challenging her long-established mind set and dynamic with Adrien due to Marinette's perspective adding a new angle and shacking things up:

Nathalie's inner conflict is one of my favourite things about the episode (and needs its own post if I get around to it), but for the context of this post, yes, she was the one who needed to come around. Not Adrien. He was already there from the get-go as we can see by him repeating the hug he started the episode with. Just now, Nathalie hugged back:

It was nice seeing Marinette help Nathalie take on her role in the end because Nathalie did the same thing Marinette did in Illustrhater for example. Acting like and saying things that eventually made Adrien accept that they don't want to be with him because, duh, that's now interactions work.

That's why he initially didn't say that he wants to stay with Nathalie in Paris when asked in the end. Nathalie too made him feel like he has to accept that that won't be an option, so he knew he had to decide between his grandparents:

The same Grandparents who had to come around in the end, too, and allow for Adrien to stay with Nathalie in Paris, even though both pairs of Grandparents are still the ones to officially hold the legal custody of Adrien (which I'm glad about that they did it like this and didn't bullshit some reason for Nathalie to get custody cause the episode is right, Nathalie has NO right to Adrien's custody whatsoever. They went with a very reasonable way to resolve this)

Its the ADULTS who had to come around. Not Adrien. Adrien already made it clear all episode what he wanted. But because all involved adults declared the outcome he wanted as a non-option, well, he honestly says that he doesn't know what else he wants (who he wants to go with).

And I- I just really like that Adrien was taking the situation serious enough to say "I don't know". That was very mature of him. To not just go with SOMETHING or go on about how unfair the situation is. Cause it definitely was, but this is a very serious legal matter that COULDN'T stay unresolved. He's an orphaned minor currently living alone with a person who's said to neither be an option as his guardian nor does she herself treat it like an option. This day COULDN'T end without at least some kind of temporary solution where he would stay now. It just couldn't.

I LIKE that he didn't repeat his denied desire that was already known to everyone around and instead seriously thought about the options he had.

I like that he loves and respects Nathalie enough to be the one person amongst Emilie, Gabriel, and now Marinette, too, who left the decision to HER if she wants to take on the position of his new mother:

As much as he wants to be with her, Adrien was characterized to understand that this is a massive thing to ask of Nathalie. He knows he means alot to her too but Nathalie was, by all accounts, objectively forced into this:

But especially by Emilie (look, I know she was literally dying slowly and painfully, I'm not judging her for wanting Adrien to be loved and taken care of. But I gotta ackowlegde that Emilie put alot on Nathalie without giving her a choice first):

In that regard I can't fault Nathalie for not having acted on her motherly feelings for Adrien and Emilie's last wish earlier than s5 (but God DAMN Nathalie, there is a difference between not doing it and actively making everything so much fucking worse!).

Adrien is the one person in this who respected how much was asked of Nathalie, so when she continuously acted like she didn't wanted to take on the role, he respected that. But this also means that the person who's responsible for Adrien coming to this "wrong" conclusion was Nathalie. Not Adrien. He's only acting accordingly to her actions and words:

So I like that Marinette got to help her in the end, because this is passive development that's very relevant to Marinette's character too. Even if I wished the show would hold Marinette to the same standards since both in Adrinette and especially Ladynoir Adrien gets mostly blamed for coming to the logical conclusions that Maribug doesn't like him or being with him in any way doesn't mean much to her because that's how she constantly acts like in almost every conflict ever. Over and over again. So I like that it was done properly this time around even if it's obvious that that was only possible because it was Nathalie and not Marinette.

And yes, I totally get not liking that Marinette is taking over the whole moment again. I'm not much of a fan of it either, to put it nicely. But it is wrong to say that Marinette is the one making the decision here and Adrien had no agency in deciding who he's staying with. Marinette is merely repeating old news she knows are true because that's what Adrien has been saying and acting like the whole episode and even already since season 5.

The decision was long made by Adrien. It were the adults who had to come around.

And beyond that,

I LIKE that Adrien said "I don't know" to the question which grandparents he wants to go with instead of the show having him make it all about his friends, girlfriend, or Ladybug. He only brings that up when he gets to stay:

Cause the question of where he would feel more at home and what is best for his future, when he has to completely start anew, is not just about his current friends, girlfriend, or his secret hero partner (who has made every precaution and decision possible to not actually have or need him in her life and job and he was made to accept that fully because that's her "rightful professionalism" same as killing your bf Ig)

I like that it was "I don't know" instead of "but my friends!", "but my girlfriend!", or "but I can't leave!".

Adrien saying "I don't know" means he thought of himself first and foremost and not everyone else:

I even like that "I don't know" means that he took the Graham de Vanilys into consideration despite how awful Emil was. Cause when the outcome Adrien WANTED (keeping his life in Paris by living with Nathalie) isn't an option, then he's perfectly in his right to not write off the possibilities he has with the Graham de Vanilys in London (and good heavens, I'm glad nothing ever brought up "but Chloé is in London! YIKES!").

I like that Adrien didnt write anything off when the decision was possibly about to change his whole future. Yes, saying "I dont know what I want" is a perfectly valid and even mature answer for a 14 year old orphan to give when they were JUST this day confronted with this situation that denied him the option he actually wanted:

And I also like that Marinette in the end didn't wasnt made to make Adrien's answer about herself in an usual moment of panic (in general, I truly LOVED how supportive Marinette was in Werepapas, even if the akuma battle incident is forever burnt in my love square heart in a very negative way. Yes, I think being willing to kill your boyfriend without trying any other solution first is bad, sue me ig. if that's what I'll be judged for, then I can live with it).

It is a far cry from Marinette in Representation for example being mostly written to make not getting to have her boyfriend near her out to be the biggest tragedy of Adrien being send to another country for good. I'm glad she got to be the supportive girlfriend for once instead of the show forcibly trying to falsely make her out to be the most important person affected by Adrien's tragic life. It was so refreshing and wonderful to watch Marinette getting to be in the lovingly supporting role of the relationship for a change, and it does WONDERS for her characterization.

While, of course, Marinette was motivated all episode to help Adrien not having to leave, when Adrien said "I don't know" Marinette knew that he's only taking the other options this seriously now because he can't have the option he actually wants.

She wasn't written to go into panic mode the second she heard Adrien NOT saying that staying in Paris is the most important thing on his mind. She knew the problem was laying elsewhere, even if I wished she hadnt made it abuut the Grandparents, but Adrien's right to CHOOSE (and yes, I'm fully aware that people will write this whole post off as salt because I didnt ignore or handwave away Marinette's consistent CANON characterization, even though that's not how salt works. I stand to what I said. More of Marinette as supportive girlfriend please, then we wouldnt have these problems)

I don't know how to end this with a nice little bow to wrap it up. I just REALLY like that Adrien said "I don't know", and how the episode treated the custody conflict for 95% of the plot which is very good for Miraculous.

[slytherinshua]

♩　HEAL THE SOUL 　( 최범규 )

genre sickfic , fluff , angst , beomgyu x fem!reader   cw implied abusive parents for both beomgyu and reader , cold symptoms (cough/headache) , beomgyu and reader are homeless and ran away from home lol inspired by 0x1=lovesong and loser=lover , not proofread   wc 1089   request yes   note i swear this txt emo era needs to go away (or not and that just means more txt fics)   net @kstrucknet @moadiarynet

You were sick. Nothing too serious, but something unpleasant enough to remind you to not take being healthy for granted. It was even worse now that you didn’t have a bed to sleep in, or warm food, or a shower. Beomgyu would have to drive another hour or two to the nearest public gym, and you really didn’t want to bother him enough for that just so you could ease your body with hot water. 

Your head ached, though. And your throat felt a bit dry. You had coughing fits every hour or so, and not much appetite. But Beomgyu was paying close attention to you whenever he could, feeling your forehead for abnormal temperatures, and making sure you had enough layers to stay warm. It definitely wasn’t the most ideal time for you to fall ill, but there wasn’t much you could do to prevent it either. 

Running away from your old town, your old life, with Beomgyu months ago had easily been the best decision of your life. Away from the constant headaches, the pain, the discomfort. Two broken souls in a beat up car driving until they found somewhere new to call home. That’s the life you two had now. But it wasn’t so bad. As long as you had each other, you got through alright. 

Beomgyu had left five minutes ago to buy whatever the cheapest hot meal was at the gas station. You were parked in the empty parking lot by the old laundromat, bundled up in one of Beomgyu’s old hoodies. You couldn’t run the heating in the car while you were parked, much as you would like to. Already tight on money as it was, you both knew how important it was to save gas. 

Your mind wandered as you looked out the window, headache pounding at your head as you shivered. You wondered what your mother would think of you if she saw you right now. How she would mock you for surviving off a twenty-year-old car and your old savings. You had worked hard to leave. Saved up as much money as possible from old part time jobs and bake sales. Although you had to give up luxuries like a warm bed, a functional kitchen, and the stability of a proper home, your current “homelessness” felt much more homely than your childhood house ever had. 

Beomgyu joked about it with you all the time. How your similar childhood experiences of abuse had led you here into each other’s arms. How it wasn’t quite so bad if it meant you could spend the rest of forever with each other. Perhaps the scars were just pathways to a better future.

A cough bubbled in your chest and you scrunched your eyes shut in frustration. You were tired of this stupid cold. You rasped out a few painful coughs before your throat cleared, burning and sore as always. You tucked your legs up to your chest, staring up at the pink sky. It was pretty as always, but the earlier the sunset, the more you anticipated how cold the night in the car would be. You could hardly enjoy the pretty clouds or colours thinking of how much you would have to rely on Beomgyu’s body warmth again that night.

“Ramen and painkillers for only fifteen thousand won,” Beomgyu grinned as he slid back into the drivers’ seat of the car, two steaming bowls of ramen in each hand. One spicy and one mild chicken flavour. A small packet of Advil was stuffed into his pocket as well. 

“Fifteen? How much of that was for the pills?” you asked a little on edge. What was not in your plan was to have your sickness burden down your expenses. It was already tight as it was.

“Ten thousand— But I won’t let you argue with me about this. I want you to feel better as quickly as possible,” Beomgyu said simply, placing the ramen on the dash of the car. 

“Beomgyu.”

“I said I’m not gonna argue. I already paid for them, so you’d better take them,” he reiterated a little more sternly, giving you a stubborn look which you had rarely seen directed at you. You sighed, recognizing a losing battle before it even started. Grabbing that packet out of his hands you pushed one small pill out of its casing and gulped it down with a little water. Beomgyu’s smile came back on his face as soon as you swallowed. 

“Now eat.” He grabbed a pair of chopsticks and scooped up a few noodles between them. Blowing on them softly, he held them out to you, carefully feeding you the warm broth-coated noodles. You hummed in thanks, grabbing the bowl from his hands and sipping more of the warm soup part.

It had been a while since you’d had a hot meal. Even if it was just instant ramen, it soothed your throat better than anything else had. Your headache was starting to subside thanks to the painkillers, and you were once again grateful for how attentively Beomgyu took care of you. He knew exactly what you needed without you even having to ask. 

The feeling was foreign. Of course, it had been years since you had first fallen in love with him. But having someone who truly cared still took adjusting to. You’d always had to beg your parents for basic things like clothes without holes in them and medicine for flu season. Years of being ignored and neglected made the switch hard to properly process. 

You hoped you could at least repay him with the same amount of love and attention that he showed you. Out of anyone you had ever met, Beomgyu certainly deserved it. 

After you both ate and cleaned up, driving around the deserted roads until you found a safe spot to park for the night, Beomgyu took out his grandpa’s old guitar and gave it a few strums. Adjusting the tuning of the old strings only took him a minute to do thanks to years of practice. He played almost every night. And on nights when he didn’t, he would still sing you to sleep while you were wrapped safely in his arms. 

The life you had chosen to live with Beomgyu certainly wasn’t easy, but every hour you spent in his company you felt your hope grow a little more. Some little voice inside your heart told you everything would work out. Because if you had Beomgyu by your side, what else did you need?

txt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @90steele,, @ddeonudepressions,, @cham3li,, @wolfmoonmusic,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,, @amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @stannwjnss,, @gong-fourz,, @nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @stantxtforabetterlife,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees,, @cupidslovearrows,, @hyukabean,, @nicholasluvbot

[maraudersilver]

Begin Again (James Potter x teacher!Reader)

James Potter x Fem!Teacher!Reader

wc: 1,3K

cw: main character death (Lily)

Widowed 27 year old James Potter went to fetch Harry from his new primary school after he received an urgent email from the headmaster. Harry got himself on another fight with the same kid.

If he continued like that, James would have no other option but to homeschool him. He sighed, pulling the car on the sidewalk. He knew Harry was not completely at fault. First, he lost his mother not too long ago, which caused his magic to be more uncontrolled than before. That led him to the second problem: Harry had been using magic unconsciously before muggle kids.

James was exhausted. Sirius had proved to be the godfather he had always expected him to be, taking care of little Harry whenever James had to work.

If Lily saw him, she would be disgusted with him. He didn’t need to work. His parents had left him an inheritance so big even their great-great grandkids would be considered millionaires. But the lost of her… Lily had been his sun, his dreams, his whole heart, soul and body. And loosing her had taken a toll on him. The grief had insufferably settled on his chest the moment she abandoned the world of the living, and Sirius and Remus had taken care of both him and Harry for months; James had been incapable of doing anything for himself without Lily.

So he looked for a job at the Ministry to keep his mind occupied. And sent Harry to a muggle primary school so he didn’t have to depend on Sirius and Remus much more. Even Peter, who was not much into kids, had babysat the kid more than once. Especially on those nights James would drink to oblivion.

So when he saw a gorgeous woman grabbing Harry’s hand at the entrance of the school, smiling at the kid with a radiant smile, his heart fluttered on his chest. It was strange. James had thought his heart death since the moment he lost Lily. How curious.

When Harry’s green eyes —identical to Lily’s— focused on him once James stepped a foot on the playground, they glinted with joy.

“Daddy!” Harry dropped the young woman’s hand and ran towards James’ awaiting arms.

“What’s up, buddy!” James grunted, trying to keep his feet steady. Merlin, his baby had grown so much.

“It wasn’t me! I was– He insulted mom! And I got so angry! And suddenly the table felt over him. But I didn’t do it!” Harry babbled incessantly, almost in desperation.

“I believe you, Harry.” James sighed. Another magical performance before muggles. Although, he was proud Harry defended Lily’s honour to the point of throwing tables at kids. “Is that your teacher?” James pointed to the woman who was awkwardly standing at the entrance still. The kid, who had apparently forgotten the presence of the teacher, looked back only to nod a second later. “Yeah. Miss. Bailey.”

“Let’s go talk to her. C’mon, champ.”

James grabbed his son’s hand and walked towards the woman, Harry not implementing any kind of resistance. The closer they got, the more James could see how beautiful the woman was. And how young. Probably around his age, he noted. Her eyes were kind, and she was offering a reassuring smile to Harry, who beamed at her attention.

“You must be mister Potter.” Godric, her voice was melodic, James thought. A velvety sound had reached his ears, so honeyed he wondered if he had encountered a mermaid on earth.

Harry slapped his arm when James took more time to answer than what was considered polite, and the man startled, smiling nervously. “Um yes, it’s me. But call me James. I’m not that old to be considered mister,” he chuckled, and he thought his heart would jump out of his chest when he heard her giggle.

“Nice to meet you, James.” She gave him her name, and James thought it suited her. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. “Let’s go straight to the point. I was not there when the fight happened, but we can’t allowed that kind of physical violence against other students.” James grimaced, and she noticed, because quickly added, “even if it is in defence.”

“I apologise on behalf of my son,” James reluctantly said. Another kid insulted Lily, yet it was Harry who was being punished.

The young teacher sighed, looking at him with sympathetic eyes. James felt like he was going to throw up. “I know– It’s been brought to my attention the situation Harry has gone through as of lately, and it’s normal for kids so young to experiment some… behavioural changes in respond to the trauma.” If it hadn’t been for her kind eyes, James would have already snapped at her for talking so lightly about Harry’s loss. About his loss. “I would have reacted worse than him if someone had spoken about a loved one that way. Although I have to ask you to keep this confession unofficial.”

“But I didn’t do it!” Harry complained, furrowing his brows, green eyes filled with sense of unfairness.

Miss. Bailey looked down at him with compassion. “I believe you, Harry, but your peers have spoken against you, sweetie. And, unfortunately, we have to act according to that.” She crouched to be at his eye level and smiled kindly, caressing his cheek gently. “Let’s do something. You have to be with me for detention during your breaks. If anyone asks, all you’ve been doing is copy some sentences. But we can play some board games, whichever you like. You okay with that, darling?”

Harry, after a moment of consideration, nodded in agreement, and grinned widely at the woman. James could feel his chest filling with warmth for his son. At least someone was advocating for him, even if he had been sentenced to detention for something he couldn’t control.

Miss. Bailey stood up to her height again, now sheepishly smiling at James, who thought she looked adorable. “I’m really sorry for not being able to help Harry more, but unless someone speaks against Hall, I have my hands tied.”

Again, if it wasn’t for the kindness of her voice and the deep tile of her irises, James would have lost his wits against her. However, his blood pressure returned to normal and just nodded. “I take your word on that. Harry is not violent. He took after my wife… late wife the most, and she was an angel on earth.”

Miss. Bailey’s eyes softened. “Harry speaks a lot about her. She sounds like a great woman.”

“She was.”

There was a moment of solemn silence between both adults, only interrupted by Harry’s restlessness.

“Well, um, I have to go back to class.” She awkwardly chew on her lower lip, James being unable to stop the way his eyes followed the motion. “See you tomorrow, Harry. Bring whatever game you want to play, okay?”

“Okay, miss.” Harry said softly, and the teacher cooed at him.

Then, once again turning to James, a faint warmth filled her cheeks. “It was nice to meet you, mister Potter.”

“James,” the man reminded her amusedly.

“James.” She nodded. James’ knees wobbled, how sweet his names fell off her lips.

Harry squeezed his hand again, reminding him of the almost hyperactive child he had come to fetch.

“Right, um, hope to see you around, Miss. Bailey.”

She giggled again, and James felt like being thrown into heaven. She mumbled her name at him. “Only kids call me Miss. Bailey.”

He repeated her name, tasting it on his tongue. Sweet and light.

“I also hope to see you around, James.”

And in the drive back home, with a chatting Harry on the backseat, James thought life could still offer him the kind of joy Lily had brought to his life, the teacher’s smile ingrained in his brain. He was really looking forward to see her again.

[the-unidentified-author]

The Lord, The Lady and The Long Winter | Cregan Stark | House of the Dragon

Chapter 2/5?: The Wolf of the North

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 - Comming soon

Cregan Stark x House Baratheon Reader

One or more parts in this story will include the following:

Warnings/ Tags: SMUT[NSFW}, smut, minors DNI, new relationship, arguments, harsh words,longing, p in v, creampie, cum play, a little rough, Cunnilingus, fingering, consensual!, hes a big man, orgasm denial, one orgasm after another 🚨SLOW BURN🚨

Summary: You’re betrothed to Cregan Stark. The pair of you navigate this relationship of convenience and perhaps even find love.

Word Count: 3,317

*Not my Gif

A/N RANT: I find writing easy. I just splat ideas down on the page. It’s the editing that really gets me. I spend so much time deleting and rewriting, googling synonyms because somehow I’ve managed to use the same word 4,000 times in the last twenty sentences. Agonising over the wording and then Word for some reason trying to make me spell things in american. Then the grammar actually sends me over the edge, Word telling me that there should be a comma, so I add a comma and then no that’s wrong there shouldn’t be a comma there. It actually makes me go feral. Anyway, if anyone wonders why it takes me so long to post more parts, these are some of the reasons.

Chapter 1

It had taken a little over a month for your father and your entourage to reach the castle of Winterfell. As you journeyed, the number of layers and furs you wore in the carriage increased, each piece a necessary defence against the northern chill. It was the last day of the trip, and you were thankful it had finally come to an end, eager to sleep in the same bed for more than one night in a row. You stepped up into the carriage and turned to your father, who was already seated, his expression one of calm reassurance. "Almost there," he said, his voice steady as he attempted a smile.

You averted your gaze, sitting down and looking out at the landscape that unfolded outside. A heavy blanket of snow cloaked the ground, transforming the world into a vast, seamless expanse of white. The trees stood tall and skeletal, their branches laden with frost that sparkled like diamonds in the weak and low winter sun. Occasionally, the wind howled through the barren branches, sending a shiver down your spine and creating an eerie symphony that filled the otherwise still air.

The world outside seemed lifeless, devoid of colour and warmth—how you longed for the vibrant greens and the golden hues of the south, of home. You hadn’t seen an animal for more than a week, and the silence felt oppressive, magnifying the sense of isolation that you felt. Your mind wandered to what your sisters would be doing right now, likely studying or playing in the garden with your mother watching sewing something beautiful as she always was. A lump formed in your throat as you thought about how long it would be until you saw them again. This new landscape was as much a part of your new life as your upcoming marriage; it revealed in its stark beauty but also served as a constant reminder of the challenges that lay ahead. With the shutter closed, you felt a growing knot of anxiety within you, the weight of the impending changes heavy as the snow that blanketed the ground.

At some point, you had fallen asleep, though you couldn't recall when. The anticipation of the day had kept you awake through most of the night, and the uncomfortable seat of the carriage left your body aching. But then, the resounding blast of trumpets heralding your arrival jolted you from your sleep.

“Are we here?" you asked, glancing at your father, whose expression was distant, as if lost in thought.

"Yes," he replied, turning his gaze to meet yours.

"How long do we have before meeting the Starks?" you asked, smoothing your clothes and hoping the nap hadn’t left your hair in disarray.

"Lord Stark will greet us as soon as we step out of the carriage," your father replied, straightening in his seat.

"What? Aren’t we meeting in the hall after we've freshened up?" you exclaimed, taken aback by the immediacy, realising just how soon you'd face the man who’d share your future.

"Ah, but they're Northerners," your father said with a dismissive wave, "They'd find you lovely even in rags." The carriage lurched forward, jolting you both, as your heart raced.

You thought you would have just a little more time, a chance to gather your thoughts and brace yourself for the momentous introduction. Panic rose inside you as it became clear you had mere minutes before meeting the man who would be your husband.

Your heart raced with a flurry of questions and doubts. Would he be as the tales described—harsh and unyielding as the Northern winters—or might there be warmth beneath the layers of fur and Stoic silence? The uncertainties swirled, each more daunting than the last, wrapping around your thoughts like a relentless blizzard.

You fidgeted with the edge of your cloak, trying to calm the rising tide of unease. What if your mannerisms seemed too foreign, your presence too delicate for the rugged North? At this moment, you realised your entire future might rely on one singular, daunting introduction.

You focused on your breathing, counting each inhale and exhale slowly to five, as your mother had taught you to do in moments of unease. Her voice echoed in your mind, recounting stories of Lord Cregan Stark and how he had become the embodiment of his house’s strength. At just seventeen, he had fought for power against his uncle, rallying the North to his cause and earning the legendary title of the Wolf of the North.

Now, at twenty-five, he was widely renowned as the most powerful man in the region, with whispers even calling him the King in the North. His influence stretched far, untethered by the intricacies of southern politics. In the refuge of your measured breathing, you hoped to draw some comfort from the formidable reputation of the man who would soon become your husband. Could a man so brilliant at war be kind?

The carriage came to a rest, jolting you back to the present, you looked at your father, who attempted to give you a reassuring nod as the door of the carriage swung open. He moved through it first, giving you a precious few moments to prepare yourself before he turned and extended his hand inside the carriage to help you out and down.

The cold hit you first, making you draw a sharp breath, the icy air burning your lungs. For a brief moment, you looked around and watched as snowflakes danced in the chilled air, touching gently on Winterfell's ancient stone façade. You stepped out, the snow crunching beneath your feet, you were thankful for your father's firm grasp on your hand, worried for a moment that without it, you would slip.

The northern air was sharp and invigorating, a biting chill that seemed to permeate the very fabric of everything it touched. It was the kind of cold that, if endured for too long, would nestle deep into your bones, leaving a lingering reminder of the North’s untamed power. Pulling your thick cloak more tightly around yourself, you sought its warmth and comfort, a shield against the relentless chill.

Your father stepped forward with the practiced grace of his station, turning to address the Northerners who had assembled to witness your arrival.

"Greetings House Stark, I am Lord Borros Baratheon, of the House Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End. I have come to present to you, my daughter." His voice was, steady and confident. It carried over the soft whisper of the wind, acknowledging the strength of the Northern families and the significance of the union that would soon bind Baratheon and Stark.

He turned to you and gestured for you to step forwards, and you did, curtseying to the group. Your eyes swept over the crowd of Northerners—a sea of rugged faces hardened by the winter landscape. And there he stood, amidst them, undeniably Cregan Stark. His towering form was enveloped in commanding furs, every inch the lord who embodied the unforgiving north. He looked younger than you thought he would, hearing stories of how the north aged you beyond your years made you worried about what you would be confronted with up getting here.

Cregan stepped forward with an elegant grace, offering a formal bow. Yet, the warmth in his eyes spoke an unspoken promise of understanding and curiosity.

"Welcome to Winterfell," his voice resonated, deep and steady, his accent thick.

Your father and Cregan began discussing the plans for the coming days, their voices a steady hum amidst the towering stone walls of Winterfell. You followed closely behind them, the chill of the Northern air slowly giving way to the warmth of the hall, its fires crackling and casting flickering shadows that danced across the ancient stone.

Eventually, you found your place on a chair, one of many surrounding a small table strewn with maps and parchments that detailed the intricacies of alliances and strategies. The gathering of lords settled into their respective seats, enveloping the table in a sense of purpose and gravitas. Your father leaned forward, engaged in discussions about the expectations of this union, emphasising duty and honour—the very fabric of noble life.

As they spoke, a few lords occasionally cast friendly glances in your direction, but you could sense the unspoken rules that governed the conversation. This was not the sort of assembly where women were expected to voice their thoughts; instead, you listened intently, absorbing the dialogue around you. It was both fascinating and daunting, a whirlwind of responsibilities that felt far removed from the warmth of family gatherings you had known.

You were taken aback that they allowed you to sit at the table at all, a privilege that your father would never have granted you in the South. Perhaps the customs were different in the North, a notion that intrigued and unsettled you. As your gaze wandered around the assembly, it landed on one woman at the table—until that moment, you hadn't realised she was among them.

Dressed in masculine attire, she seemed to blend right in with the lords surrounding her, sitting tall and confident as they addressed her with the same respect reserved for their male counterparts. It was a striking sight, one that momentarily pulled you from your anxious thoughts about the future.

Then, the unexpected happened; she caught your eye and offered a warm smile that brightened her otherwise stern countenance. Heat rose to your cheeks as you realised you had been staring. Quickly, you turned your attention back to Cregan, the man you were to marry, feeling the weight of the room around you as you grappled with the complexities of your new reality.

Cregan Stark was a striking figure to behold, towering head and shoulders above your father, making it instantly clear why others held him in such high esteem. His presence conveyed more than mere physical stature; as soon as he began to speak, his demeanour and the way he carried himself revealed the essence of a man of honour. Unlike the tall men of the South, who seemed like a gust of wind might send them hurtling over the battlements into the sea, Cregan's stature was built broad and firm.

The cloak draped over his shoulders only added to his impressive build, yet you could tell at a glance that this was a physique forged through hard work and rigorous training, not by indulgence in luxuries. Every movement hinted at discipline and strength, an embodiment of the Northern spirit you had heard so much about.

Your eyes focused intently on his face as he spoke, captivated by the way his shoulder-length brown hair framed his features, catching the light to highlight the rugged lines that undeniably spoke of his Northern lineage. Cregan had a strong jaw, lending a chiseled quality to his visage that perfectly complemented the air of unyielding determination he exuded.

But it was his piercing blue eyes that truly drew you in—striking and deep, they seemed to hold an entire world within them. In contrast to the often stark demeanour he carried, those eyes contained an unexpected warmth, like a flickering flame against the cold backdrop of winter. There was a kindness in their depths, a silent promise that perhaps beneath the fierce exterior lay a man capable of tenderness and understanding. With every glance, you felt the pull of his gaze, an invitation to see beyond the bravado and discover the complexities that made him who he was.

He turned and met your eye, and it took you a second to realise that he had asked you a question, you looked around the room at the lords. All poised to listen to your response. You looked to your father for guidance.

"You'll have to excuse my daughter, the journey north has been long. However, I do think that she has enough strength left to accept your suggestion of a tour of Winterfell." he smiled at Lord Stark, who looked from you to your father, an understanding smile playing on his lips as he worked out you hadn't been paying attention.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t expose your lapse in concentration, just stood and shook your father's hand. You stood too as all the other lords stood and moved towards the door. You watched as they filtered out of the room, your father and Cregan being the only two aside from yourself still left in the room.

"Well, I would say that no chaperone is required, it is said that no one in the realms have as much honour as the Starks." your father said, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword as he looked between the two of you.

He nodded and gave you a small smile and turned to leave the room, the guards at the door opening and closing the door. You felt the resounding boom of the door closing in your chest as it seemed to echo around the entire room. The room seemed smaller as you looked from the door to Lord Stark, he looked so much more intimidating now it was only you in the room.

"My Lady, what part of Winterfell would you like to see first?" he asked stepping towards you.

"I- I don’t know." you whispered, finding it too difficult to look him in the eye.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing to your cloak which you had removed and placed on the back of your chair.

You nodded, he carefully picked it up and placed it over your shoulders, you moved your hands to do up the buckle that would secure it to your body and turned to Lord Stark. The massive sword slung across his back caught your attention, its hilt visible above his shoulder—a symbol of the strength and legends whispered in the halls of your childhood home. It seemed a natural extension of him—an embodiment of Cregan Stark, the warrior and the lord.

He smiled down at you, warmth and friendliness lighting up his features. With a gentle tilt of his eyebrow, he extended his elbow towards you, inviting you to take it.

"Well, I shall show you my favourite parts of the castle, and then we'll join your father and the other lords for a late tea," he said, his deep voice smooth and rich, like honey.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, as you took his hand and allowed him to guide you out of the room. Agreeing to marry someone you had never met was undoubtedly a gamble, fraught with uncertainties. Yet, with this match, a sense of hopefulness stirred within you—a feeling as if you had struck gold in a world tarnished by rusted steel.

Your thoughts drifted back to the moment you first learned of your betrothal. That night, your mother had remained by your side, holding you close as you cried, part of you mourning your childhood and the other terrified of the future. She assured you that everything would be alright, words you initially dismissed as just the comforting words you say to someone when they're crying.

But now, with time and distance, you started to see that moment in a different light. There was a certainty in her voice that had been unwavering, and it made you wonder if she had played a part in your match with Lord Stark. Her confidence lingered in your mind, suggesting that perhaps this match carried more promise than you dared to imagine in those initial, tear-filled moments.

Winterfell was a beautiful castle, said to be one of the oldest still standing. As Cregan showed you around, you noticed something different in the way he spoke. Unlike most men, who seemed more interested in proving themselves smarter than you by belittling or over-explaining, Lord Stark had a unique approach.

His way of speaking about the castle and its history felt more like listening to a passionate teacher than a rehearsed lecture. He engaged you with stories, making each tale and detail come alive, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of respect and curiosity grow within you. It was refreshing and made you appreciate not only Winterfell, but also the man guiding you through its storied halls.

He had suggested that the two of you look out over the battlements before retiring to the great hall for something to eat. The climb up to the battlements was more challenging than you had anticipated. The stairs were far narrower than any you had navigated at Storm's End, making you marvel at how men clad in armour could swiftly manoeuvre them during times of war. Yet, as you reached the top, the sight that greeted you was nothing short of breathtaking—a vast, snowy landscape stretching as far as the eye could see. There was a vast expanse of forest in the distance, but even that was coated in snow.

Your home back in Storm's End prided itself on its massive walls for protection against invaders. However, here at Winterfell, the tall walls paired with its isolated, formidable position in the North presented a different kind of strength. The harsh, unforgiving landscape surrounding Winterfell seemed an ally to its defenders, an icy gauntlet capable of claiming the lives of unprepared southern soldiers long before they could even reach the walls. The beauty and latent power of the scene sent a shiver through you, a reminder of the resilience required to thrive in this raw and rugged part of the world.

"There is a small moat hidden by the snow at the bottom of the wall," Cregan began, his gaze shifting to you with a knowing glint in his eyes, as if he was sharing a secret of the North only a few were privy to. "If aren't aware of it and attempt to climb the wall, you sink into snow taller than a man."

You withdrew your hand from the warmth of your fur muff, moving to grasp the metal handle fixed to the wall, hoping to steady yourself for a better view over the battlements. The chill of the metal immediately shot through your fingers, contrasting sharply with the cozy warmth of the muff.

"Agh," you gasped, yanking your hand away from the frigid metal.

Before you could even check for injury, Cregan Stark's gloved hand enveloped yours with a surprising gentleness. He looked down at your hand, his thumb softly brushing across your palm, sending a tingle through your skin. "Careful, My Lady," he murmured, his voice carrying a deep, soothing timbre. "Warm hands stick to cold metal. You could lose some skin if you're not careful."

You grimaced at the thought and glanced back at the metal, reassuring yourself that none of your skin lingered there. "It burns,” you whispered, eyes dropping to the red mark on your palm.

Cregan's gaze met yours, holding a mix of concern and something unspoken. He raised his hand to his mouth, biting the finger of his glove and pulling it off, his breath misting in the cold air. He placed his large, now bare hand over yours, its warmth seeping through your skin, soothing the sting of the cold. His touch seemed to linger longer than necessary, then he removed his hand from yours and pulled the glove from his mouth.

"Careful my Lady, the cold burns sometimes more than fire." He remarked, eyes locked on yours, before slipping his hand back into the glove with deliberate care. "We ought to get you some gloves." His voice carried both practicality and an undercurrent of tenderness that surprised you.

He offered his arm once more, and this time, as you looped your arm around his, the touch felt more intimate, more charged. You tucked your hand back into your fur muff, your hand still feeling the ghost of his.

A Link to My Complete Inventory

[starshideurfics]

A Mother’s Love - Part 3

part 1, part 2

omegaverse, pre-steddie, hints of WaynexBenny, steve with powers

Benny spends the next 37 hours in Wayne’s nest, holding his pup the whole time. It doesn’t make up for the nearly 14 years of holding Steve that he lost out on, but it’s a start.

In the wee hours of the morning, Steve is breathing deeply against Benny’s shoulder, sleeping hard.

Sure they can’t be overheard, Benny turns to Marsha and asks, “What do we tell him?”

“What do you want to tell him?” she returns, just as softly.

“That I did not want to give him up. That it wasn’t my choice.” He breathes deep, peaches and cream flood his senses, and Benny kisses his hair.

“Richard and I haven’t told him he’s adopted yet. But I don’t think he has any memories from before we moved to Hawkins.” She smiles over at Benny and her boy. “I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t want him to have to deal with… Any of it. Not knowing will keep him safer.”

“I agree on all that.”

Benny pets down Steve’s back, purrs to comfort him. “But what do we tell him?” His voice breaks as he asks again.

“He deserves to know as much of the truth as we can tell him. You were young, couldn’t keep him-”

“I wasn’t given a choice!”

“Shh, I know, honey. I know. You’d never choose it.”

She stands, pulls her chair closer so she can touch him, caresses Benny’s cheek. “But it’s also the truth. You didn’t want to give him up, you had to, you knew me from work, asked for help.” She pauses, hand moving to Steve’s hair. “I didn’t realize we’d moved to the same town. All true.”

“Yes.” His heart hurts, so much of his pain is being peeled back and discarded. The horrors of his life cast to the wayside.

“Steve’s always been a sensitive boy. I think he’ll *feel* the connection. I really do.”

“I know. I feel it, too. Could feel it the second I saw him.”

“Mama?” Steve mumbles in his sleep, fingers tightening their grip on Benny’s shirt.

“It’s okay, baby,” Benny murmurs, rubbing his back. “You’re okay.”

That’s all it takes. Steve settles, body going lax again as he nuzzles against Benny’s neck.

When his heat finally breaks, Steve is confused. Disoriented more than anything. But he listens as his mother speaks, still breathing the comforting apple scent on Benny’s shirt. Her words are easy to accept, burrowing deep inside him, finding a home in his heart.

Suddenly, Steve finds himself in possession of a Dad, Mom, and now a Mama.

❤️❤️❤️

Steve gets the weekend after his presentation heat to sleep off the remaining exhaustion and give himself time to absorb everything that’s changed about his life.

And it really does feel like everything has changed.

It’s confusing, but good. He just… He doesn’t want to be different.

Barely anyone brings it up, but Steve knows he doesn’t fit in with most of his classmates simply because his family isn’t from Hawkins. He’s known everyone since Kindergarten, but his mom hasn’t known their moms since 1st grade, so it’s different.

He doesn’t want to give anyone a reason to talk.

His mom and Benny think it’s a good idea to be quiet about it too. So, he decides he won’t tell anyone. There will be enough commotion with him presenting omega.

Tommy still hasn’t presented yet, but he’ll be gross about it. Ask Steve if he wants to play doctor like they’re four.

Steve has no intention of showing anyone else his pussy right now. Especially not Tommy Hagen. It was bad enough that his mom had to check it, and she’s a nurse! But she said it looked perfectly healthy, and Steve fully intends to ignore his new vulva for a while…

But Monday comes, and he can’t ignore school. He rides his bike, like he always does, wanting to feel normal, even if his bicycle seat feels weird now. Because, you know…

But he gets to school, says he doesn’t feel all that different anytime someone asks, but he feels things—stabs of jealousy, confusion, anger and desire wrapped up in one. It’s worst around Tommy, like a buzzing beneath his skin, and Steve is happy to retreat to first period, to sit quietly as Mr. Clarke takes roll.

But the buzzing gets worse, and his head starts to ache. 20 minutes in, it’s like pressure is building inside his skull, sharp pain with every movement, and dull pain if he holds still.

Steve nearly makes it to the end of the hour when the nausea strikes, and he makes it to the trash can by the door just in time to puke up his breakfast.

Mr. Clarke sends him to the nurse’s office. She has him lie down, puts a cold compress over his eyes. That helps, and the buzzing is gone.

Steve cries, a little from relief, but more from anguish. A grief that isn’t his. He looks at Nurse Baker, remembers his mom saying something about a drunk running a red light and hitting a pedestrian.

Sees the bags beneath her eyes, like she doesn’t sleep. “Are you okay?” he asks.

It’s like a switch flips on her face, but the sadness still radiates out from her chest. “I’m fine, Steven,” she says, smiling. “How are you feeling? I called your mother, but she can’t get away from work.” She strokes his hair, replaces the cold compress on Steve’s forehead. “She said your uncle will pick you up. Take you home.”

“Okay,” Steve whispers, confused and hurting.

Ten minutes later Benny arrives in the office, dropping into a crouch at Steve’s side. “Hey, Pup,” he says softly. “You think you can walk, or are you gonna hurl again?”

“I can walk,” Steve insists, sitting up. Benny rubs his back, helps him stand. They make it to the parking lot without issue, but alone, in Benny’s truck, Steve starts crying again. “I think something’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you, Baby. You’re perfect. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.” Benny holds him close, pushes out his scent.

Steve can smell his fear. His worry. He’s always been sensitive like that.

💔💔💔

Benny still has nightmares about the day he gave birth. About the day his baby was stolen away.

They gave him enough drugs that he doesn’t remember the pain so clearly, but he remembers hearing his pup cry. Remembers how desperate he was to hold him.

He never got the chance.

The nurses whisked him from the room, Brenner saying he needed tests and shots, that the hard part was over and Benny should rest.

He didn’t want to rest. He wanted his pup. Cried out for him. But the nurses didn’t bring him back. Said he went into respiratory arrest. That his heart stopped.

That’s when the pain started. Pain in his heart. Pain between his legs from being cut, from the stitches. Pain in his breasts as his milk comes in.

Marsha spent days with him after, holding his hand, helping him pump, then helping his milk dry up.

But in his dreams, he’s alone.

He can hear his pup crying, but he cannot move. His legs feel heavy, so heavy he can’t lift them. He hurts, and there’s blood everywhere. His nipples are leaking, and that’s blood too.

Everything is red.

The crying stops suddenly, and it’s too quiet. He screams himself hoarse. Begs for his pup. He wakes screaming.

The dreams are worse near the anniversary… His pup’s birthday.

Steve’s birthday.

He thinks that’s why they’ve hit him again, even now that he’s found his boy again.

It’s why he has bags under his eyes when he picks Steve up from the nurse’s office.

Steve turns 14 next week.

Nearly 14 years his baby was gone. And having him back isn’t enough to stop the dreams.

At least now he has a scent token in his nest that smells of sweet peaches that he can sniff to calm his fears.

Even better, he has Steve in his arms in the cab of his truck.

Steve whines against his shoulder, moaning, “But I feel broken. Like everyone is pushing into my head.”

“Everything?”

“*Everyone.* It hurts.”

Benny rubs his back, and feels just as helpless as his baby. “We’ll talk to Mom about it when she gets home. But you need to lay down, let’s get you home.”

“No.”

“Baby, it’ll be okay. We’ll get you in your nest-”

“No. Don’t leave me.” Steve grabs hard at his shoulder, fingers locked in place.

“I need to go to work.”

“I’ll come with you. Please.” His nose nuzzles forward, finds Benny’s neck. “Please, Mama.”

Benny feels tears against his skin. He can’t say no to that, not when his boy is hurting. When he needs him.

Benny drives back to his burger shop, still having about an hour before he opens for lunch. He brings Steve in, smiles to see him relax, and has him get settled at a booth in the corner.

“If you start feeling it again, the pushing into your head, let me know right away,” Benny orders gently. He forces a smile. “But if your stomach is settled, I’d guess you’re hungry. Think you could eat a couple eggs and some toast?” The eggs are tor the Sunrise Burger, the toast for the patty melt. There’s no breakfast on his menu, but it feels like the best option right now, quick and simple.

Steve nods, mumbles his thanks as he puts his head down on the table and closes his eyes.

“Okay, I’ll let your mom know you’re here, and I’ll be right back with those eggs. It’ll be okay, Baby.”

“It’ll be okay,” Benny repeats to himself as he heads in the back, to the phone. It has to be.

He just got his baby back.

❤️❤️❤️

“What’s that mean, ‘he’s empathic,’ like, I get that he’s gentle, sensitive, but what’s it mean?” Wayne asks when Benny comes over after closing.

Marsha picked Steve after work, just before the dinner rush, explained as best she could in whispers. Benny spent the rest of the evening turning it over in his head. He thinks he understands it now. “In the program… We were trying to tap into the deeper powers of the human mind. I… dabbled with LSD when I was younger, it’s how I found MKUltra. Brenner. His goal was telekinesis. Reading minds. Science fiction stuff.”

He pinches at the bridge of his nose. “Martha said most of the children showed signs of some power, but Steve struggled. He cried all the time, was inconsolable most days. She doesn’t think Brenner figured it out, that he was picking up on big feelings, anything harsh like fear or pain. She helped him build walls in his mind—when he started school—and I don’t fully understand it, but I guess presenting broke through them.”

“So he can feel what other people are feeling…”

“And teenagers feel things so strongly…”

Wayne reaches out, grabs Benny’s hand. “And it made him throw up?”

“How would you feel if a couple dozen horny, angry, moody teens’ emotions flooded your head?” Benny returns, still gentle, but Wayne knows him so well, can read the worry and anger in his scent.

“I’d probably puke, too,” Wayne answers, pumping out his own calming scent, sweet cinnamon fills the air and Benny breathes deeply. His shoulders unhunch a little.

“Marsha is gonna work with him in rebuilding the walls, but she’s worried he’s too comfortable with her, that he’s too attuned to her emotions already…”

“Does she think you can-”

“No, after his presentation… I guess I’m too safe.”

“Too safe?”

“Yeah… And she thinks it would help to have him working with someone closer to his age. With big, teenage emotions…”

Wayne shakes his head. “Ben, no. You can’t mean-”

“He didn’t say anything when he got Steve over here. I trust him, and Marsha doesn’t trust any of Steve’s friends.”

“Eddie’s got a big mouth, I love the boy, but what if he says anything to Al?”

“We’re not worried about Al. This is about keeping it from Brenner, in case he’s still keeping tabs on Marsha at all.”

“I’ll talk to him about needing help tomorrow,” Wayne agrees softly. He stands up. “How are you doing? This is a lot to deal with, even when your kid doesn’t have some kind of special powers.”

Benny covers his eyes, whines when Wayne touches his shoulder. “It’s my fault. This is what we were trying to do. And now my baby’s hurting.”

“You’re helping him feel better. And you didn’t know it would be like this. You didn’t.” Wayne rubs his back as Benny hides his face against the other omega’s shirt. “You love your boy so much, you’re being so strong for him.”

Benny lets himself cry in Wayne’s arms.

He loves his boy so much.

[alyimoss]

YES YES YES IVE NOTICED THIS BEFORE!!!! the reverse is also true: chara calls asgore dad, but toriel is just toriel. both have a parent theyre closest with

that does make me think tho like. frisk seems to me like he would either call both parents just by their name or call both mom and dad. not pick one and leave the other. hes shown to be more considerate of the residents of xtale in later timelines than chara, whos grown much more disillusioned, hateful, and violent. chara has way fewer problems treating people more poorly because in his mind the end justifies the means and as long as the goal hes working toward is noble (which. it at first is but later twists into something completely different. but i think he still considers it noble and the "best outcome for everyone" and thats ahat matters most to him) any horrible thing he does is completely fine. hes playing on the same battlefield as xgaster, after all, so he has to adopt his same tactics. frisk, though also shown to have grown more hateful and violent and disillusioned, shows a lot more hesitation in using and/or hurting the residents of xtale.

anyway, all that to say that he just doesnt rlly strike me as the type of guy to just exclude one parent, especially if it hurts/saddens them. like i could be completely wrong and hes just got a preference contrasting charas bc siblings, but. idk.

bc chara not calling toriel mom immediately makes me think of timeline III. the timeline right after the one where chara got the father figure he yearned for. it was the first timeline to use underswap as a base instead of the original timeline. in the episode, we see both frisk and chara sitting in toriels lap. frisk is chatting happily with her, but chara looks livid

i wonder if chara refuses to call toriel mom because she hasnt been the mother he knew for so, so long. she doesn't even know it. and swap toriel taking asgores role and some if not all of his personality (depending on the interpretation), it probably felt to chara like she was trying to replace asgore. a shoddy stand in, smiling at him almost in mockery as he has to mourn the death of his father alone because noone except for him, frisk, xgaster, and alphys even know he died. for all the other residents of xtale, that series of events never happened.

toriel asks him whats wrong and he has to fight the urge to snap at her, to yell at her that she knows. she knows and shes mocking him. that shell never be him. that she shouldnt have ever dared to do something like this so close to his death. and he only barely holds that all in because he knows shes not doing this on purpose. she doesnt know what happened. she didnt ask to be remade in someone else's image. she doesn't even know she has been

the whole situation fuels his hatred of xgaster more, because now more than ever he feels like hes being toyed with. first it was just the world. just seeing what changed. and then one of the most precious things to him was taken from him by the very man who promised him the world, a marionette facsimile dangling by strings from the claws chara couldve sworn he didnt always have.

and again, its not toriels fault. but it leaves such a strong impression on him that she forever changes in his eyes. shes no longer the loving mother. shes someone who doesnt belong, someone he doesnt recognize as his own. she changed from who she was when she WAS his mom, all the way back in timelines I and II, and the mother he loved is dead. gone. erased. irreplaceable. and no matter what xtoriel does, chara can never bring himself to call her mom again

and, on the contrary, he latches to asgore hard. because hes also changed, hes not exactly as he remembers him, but hes back. hes alive. hes still asgore and hes still his father and he missed him so much. he doesnt care about the smaller details, nothing matters except the fact that his father is back. that the man who gave him hope and support and company when he felt so crushingly lonely under the weight of losing his world is back, and that means chara isnt alone anymore. hes not hopeless. and he holds to that tiny hope as tight as he can

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[wouldtheybecomeafearavatar]

Alright, while I'm waiting for the preference polls to become clear, I suppose I'll announce the (possible) contestants!

In total there are 1725 characters in the avatar spreadsheet. I excluded participants under 60 votes, since under that number there tends to be little variance and a lot more 100% yes or no, which results in a bunch of ties for the top (or bottom) spot. Sorry to the more obscure characters and their fans! Anyway.

Announcing the Contestants for the First Annual Avatar Fear-Off!

🕸️ Web: 167 total avatars, 58 Eligible 🕸️

Top Total Yes %: Lady Jessica from Dune

Funnily enough, the most willing character is also from Dune. This time it's the Reverend Mother, also known as Gaius Helen Mohiam.

Those Bene Gesserit ladies sure know how to manipulate, huh?

🐺 Hunt: 151 total avatars, 62 Eligible 🐺

Top Total Yes %: Dread Hound Charlie/Charity from The Silt Verses

Awkwardly, this one is a tie between The Dread Hound Charlie from real life and Charitiy from The Silt Verses, both at 100% Yes votes. I suppose it becomes a little less awkward if real life characters are excluded, since that rules out Charlie. The most willing is another character entirely: Actual Cannibal Shia LaBeouf from the Rob Cantor song.

🪖 Slaughter: 167 total avatars, 59 Eligible 🪖

Top Total Yes AND Most Willing %: Robert with a quick hand from Pumped Up Kicks

He's the king of senseless violence no matter which way you look at it. You better run, faster than his bullet.

🫥 Lonely: 138 total avatars, 46 Eligible 🫥

Top Total Yes %: Dalv from Undertale Yellow

Poor Dalv here cerainly isn't the most willing, but that's common enough with Lonely avatars. The one who is the most willing is Sunny from Omori (though he was still only at 47.8%. People really don't want to be Lonely avatars. I wonder why...)

🌀 Spiral: 134 total avatars, 65 Eligible 🌀

Top Total Yes %: The Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland

Well, it is in the name. But for him, it's more who he is. The character who wants to be a Spiral avatar the most is Jareth the Goblin King from Labyrinth.

👁️ Eye: 132 total avatars, 61 Eligible 👁️

Top Total Yes %: The Stalker from Every Breath You Take

They'll be watching you 👀 There was a character more willing though, and that's Christof from The Truman Show.

🔥 Desolation: 127 total avatars, 43 Eligible 🔥

Top Total Yes %: Dabi from My Hero Academia

As well as the fire powers, he also has a burning hatred so strong that he'll destroy anything in his way so long as he gets revenge. The most willing character is The Ultimate Despair, Junko Enoshima from Danganronpa

🤡 Stranger: 108 total avatars, 49 Eligible 🤡

Top Total Yes %: Blanca from Animal Crossing

A faceless cat, pretty strange, but at least they seem fairly harmless. Not so much for the most willing avatar, the "stag" from Adventure Time.

Ugh. What is that thing.

💉 Corruption: 99 total avatars, 40 Eligible 💉

Top Total Yes %: The Candyman from Candyman (1992)

This character was submitted in honour of his actor, Tony Todd, so it's nice to see he did so well! The Candyman himself is a little less nice. Bees and murder and toxic love... The most willing character is Remus Sanders from Sanders Sides.

💀 End: 89 total avatars, 35 Eligible 💀

Top Total Yes %: The Raven from The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." (Maybe it should have been a manifestation, but I think this was before I was doing them?) The most willing End avatar is the Scrybe of the Dead, Grimora from Inscryption.

☢️ Extinction: 85 total avatars, 33 Eligible ☢️

Top Total Yes AND Most Willing: Lysandre from Pokémon X and Y

I have to say, after N in Gen 5 he was a bit of a let-down as an antagonist... The Team Flare boss has some wacky ideas of what constitutes a perfect world, but it is one without most humans on it, which serves The Extinction well.

🥩 Flesh: 65 total avatars, 35 Eligible 🥩

Top Total Yes AND Most Willing: Kromer from Limbus Company

She believes in the beauty and superiority of the human Flesh, and judging by her final form, she seems to think you can't have too much of it! Kromer will gaslight, gatekeep and girlboss her way to ensuring the purity of Flesh is enforced.

🚀 Vast: 54 total avatars, 21 Eligible 🚀

Total Top Yes AND Most Willing: Ocean Man from Ocean Man

Well, he is the Ocean Man. Can't get much more Vast unless he was also the Sky and Space Man.

🌑 Dark: 37 total avatars, 6 Eligible 🌑

Total Top Yes %: The Warden from Minecraft

The Warden is the blind guardian of the deep dark and a terror to any who would trespass, but not the most willing Dark avatar. No, that would be none other than the infamous Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way from My Immortal.

⚰️ Buried: 34 total avatars, 6 Eligible ⚰️

Total Top Yes AND Most Willing: The Dirt Man from Dirt Man

You'd better be keeping a little dirt under your pillow for him. Or else he'll take you down to The Buried. It's where he keeps his dirt.

🚫 Not avatars: 152 total, 69 eligible 🚫

Lastly we have the characters who wouldn't become avatars, and may end up instead working against the Fears.

Top Total No %: Kirby from Kirby

This little guy is much more interested in food and friends than spreading Fear to the cosmos. Certainly, The Lonely isn't a good fit for them, but they do have potential to serve another Fear, unlike the character most likely to refuse outright: It's not a bird, or a plane, no, it's Superman (aka Clark Kent)! He will absolutely not be serving The Desolation or any other Fear.

And that's it! Remember to vote in the preference polls if you have an opinion on whether the most willing or highest total yes % characters should represent their Fears, or if you want to weigh in on whether Charlie the dog from real life should be in there, or anything else. Next I'll be back to you with an actual bracket, then we can start the polls!

[angelsdean]

hot take maybe but actually i do expect my mom to comfort me and make me an ice cream sundae when i’m sad even when i get to 40 and she’s 70. my grandma does that for her still. it’s not. limiting her. it’s not saying she only has to be my mommy. i have taken care of her too. it’s saying we love each other and want to take care of each other. mary struggling to be able to interact with grown up sam and dean was very very valid and understandable and i love her for it. she also could’ve maybe tried a little more anyway. they could’ve lent on each other. idk.

Yea i've said before that I think it's a bit outrageous the way people seem to think someone stops being a parent once their child reaches adulthood. Maybe it's a cultural thing, I don't know, but the whole idea of "once your kid turns 18 they're out the door and not your problem anymore" is so deeply flawed IMO. But yea I focus more on "debunking" the claim that Dean expects some sort of motherly coddling / babying from Mary because that seems to be the deancrit take I see the most with regards to this arc / the "i'm not just a mom" scene.

But for sure many people seem to have some weird ideas IMO about what it means to be a parent. Like I think you can feel for Mary and understand that parents can and are more than just parents, but also understand that they will never stop BEING a parent either. Their kids will always be their kids. It's why people always say being a parent is a full time job, not something to go into lightly, that you should be sure you actually want kids and understand that having them is a lifelong commitment etc etc. And having kids makes them become your priority, even when you want to be selfish you always have to try to put them first. Obviously that lessens as they grow up but like, if your adult child were injured or had some kind of health issue / challenges as a parent it's still your job to be there for them, to support them, to care for them. That doesn't just end at 18. It's why *I* know that even though I like the idea of kids I probably never will have any because it's so much responsibility and because those kids are always always going to come first, forever! That's kind of part of the parental "contract" IMO. And even when they're adults, a parent should still be the one person in the world your kid can turn to, rely on, seek comfort in.

And I understand these expectations are complicated in this particular narrative by the fact that Mary died young and is not equipped to be a mother to adults. I think that's such a delicious component that I wish they leaned into more. She is grieving her babies. She is allowed to feel those feelings and feel confused and unsure and struggle with accepting this new dynamic with her children. But a big part of Mary's arc in s12, which culminates in 12x22 with "I need you to see me" is that she is the one stuck in the past, needing to accept her reality and "SEE" her children for who they are now. That's what the arc is moving towards, that acceptance. And after s12 we see her and Dean have a better relationship. We see her still getting to be Mary the person AND Mary the "mom." She hunts, she comes and goes, but she's someone Dean can talk to, share a meal with, spend time together. It's what he always wanted most. He tells her in 14x11 that "just knowing you're around, that you're alive has meant everything to me."

Anyways, I won't ramble about all that again because I've made a bunch of posts about it already. But yes, I think it's normal for Dean (and Sam) to want Mary to comfort them, do nice things for them, the way any parent or really a family member in general might do. They are not asking for kisses on their boo-boos and getting tucked into bed with a bedtime story, which is how a lot of deancrit posts read. What they want is some sort of familial reciprocal care. Like the way Dean spends quality time with those he loves. The way he baked a cake for Jack. Cooks for his family. The way he gives people gifts. The way he fixes Cas's truck. The way he calls to check in on people. He doesn't do these things out of some obligation or playing some "role", he does them because he cares. Because he loves his family, and that's just what family does for each other.

Someone in my tags last night said it very well that what Dean really wanted was just, another family member, to spend time with, to share their joys and burdens with. Someone like Bobby, that he could turn to if he needed. Bobby was a parent figure but he wasn't "parenting" them, y'know? He was someone Dean could lean on, but he didn't expect Bobby to shoulder all his burdens. And I think that's what Dean wants most. Just someone he can lean on and rely on, since he's been having to be the strong one for everyone his whole life.

[buckysgrace]

Fantasy

Steve Harrington x fem!OC

CW: Vaginal fingering, making out Just some sweet Steve :)

Steve likes to take it slow.

CW: lots of making out, fingering

Kim

She was sure that she’d get lost every time she stepped into the Harrington house. It was so large and vast, practical and impractical at the same time. Part of her still felt like an outsider, even though his parents had been more than inviting. 

She had met them a few weeks ago over dinner, and they had seemed kind enough. They were still busy and tended to leave quite a bit, but she thought they had enjoyed her enough. All the stress had been for nothing.

“You kids want anything?” His mother questioned as soon as she stepped into the living room, her eyes soft as she smiled at the two of them. Kim had yet to figure his parents out, but she couldn’t judge too much. Her parents seemed to be far worse if she was being honest. 

“No, we’re good,” Steve answered for her a second later, making her cheeks burn as she realized she had been far too quiet, “but thanks.” He added as he tugged Kim through the open living room, leaving her little time to examine the room again. It was interesting, different from most houses. 

“Are you sure they’re okay if we’re here?” She asked as he knelt in front of the TV, setting up the movie that they had selected earlier. He had gained a sudden interest in watching movies, which Robin had blamed her for. Which she didn’t think was true. 

“Why wouldn’t they be?” He said with a little laugh, his eyebrows raised softly as the sunlight trickled against his skin. She wasn’t sure what to say, unable to admit that it was odd to have parents that supported her relationships. 

“I don’t know,” she mumbled underneath her breath, “Do they want to join us?” She asked as she looked over her shoulder, confirming that his mother was already gone. He smiled as he gripped her hands, tugging her forward so he could plop both of them onto the couch.

She sat next to him, sinking into the same cushion as him. The furniture was pretty and neat, but not very comfortable. But Steve was. He was really soft. 

“They’re not much into movies,” he smiled as he scooted closer to her, pushing his arm over her shoulder and tugging her close, “What’s this about again?” He turned towards her, eyes lingering against her lips. 

“Uh,” she paused, trying to think of the best way to explain it, “they need to find a piece of this crystal to restore it in order to bring balance to the universe. Intense stuff.” She added with a little giggle, watching as his eyebrows furrowed tightly together.

“And they’re puppets?” He asked once again, repeating what they had gone through at Family Video the other day. She nodded her head in confirmation, eyes widening for a second as he kicked her legs up on the couch. He wiggled next to her a second later, pushing them into a laying position. 

“Yes,” she smiled as she sat up a little bit, confirming that he was still bewildered. “Too weird for you?” She asked, feeling a little worried as she tried to get comfortable on the stiff cushions. It was fairly clear to her that none of them sat down here very often. 

“Not weird enough,” he corrected playfully, “I like odd things.” She couldn’t deny that. He hummed as he snuggled his chin into the crook of her neck, sighing deeply as he held her close. 

She curled up against him, her head falling onto his shoulder as they linked their long legs together. She moved a palm across his chest, resisting the urge to place it over his heart. She liked to feel the way his heart thumped, as if there was a way to understand if it really beat for her or not.

The furniture wasn’t very comfortable despite being very expensive and very nice looking. The cushions were soft and hard at the same time, never truly letting either of them get fully comfortable. They shifted a lot, but she didn’t care as long as she continued to lay next to him. 

She giggled at the feeling of his fingertips on her bare skin, goosebumps forming as he continued to dig into her flesh. His lips dragged against the crook of her neck, warm and soft as she melted into the uncomfortable cushions. 

Her heart hammered roughly inside of her chest, warmth spreading through her body as his mouth traveled up towards her chin. The corners of her lips twitched gently as one of his large hands fell to her cheek, cupping her softly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he hummed, brown eyes twinkling in appreciation, “I’m so lucky.” He added, drawing out his words as he continued to admire her. It made her heart throb as she slowly shook her head, breathing in deeply. 

“Thanks,” she squeaked out underneath her breath, “You’re handsome.” She added underneath her breath, speaking the truth to him. He was handsome, pretty even. His features soft and sweet. 

Her insides twisted in pleasure at the softest feel of his mouth against her own. She fluttered her eyes shut softly, savoring how warm he felt against her skin. Her head fell back against the arm rest, her hands moving to his biceps. 

Steve was a gentle kisser, soft and calculated. He didn’t rush and it was rare to feel his tongue flicking out against hers. Which she didn’t mind, it just wasn’t what she was used to. But she still liked it, even though it got her hot and bothered. 

She moved her hands to the nape of his neck, dragging her fingers through the soft hair that rested there. He gently kissed at her lips, pecking softly as he squeezed at her chin. It felt nice, made her stomach flutter with butterflies. But he always managed to do that.

She tilted her head up towards him, kissing him a little deeper as she felt the corner of his lips tilting into a smile. He pulled back softly, making her work to feel his touch once again. She easily recognized that she was going too fast, that he wanted her to slow down. But she craved him. Badly. 

Her mind felt foggy, her body turning into goo as he moved his large palm against her cheek. He felt soft and smooth, his touch sweet as he continued to drag his lips against hers. She twisted his hair around her fingertips, spreading her legs a little further so he could slide in against her.

He exhaled deeply against her lips, giving her a brief taste of bubble gum on her tongue. He never tasted like anything too intense, just slightly sweet. Nothing too overbearing, but enough that it made her crave the taste of him. 

Her body began to tingle with electricity, a dire need spreading through her body as she slowly arched her hips up towards his. He chuckled softly as he moved his free hand between their bodies, pressing down on her hips to keep her still.

She stared up at him, heart hammering wildly inside of her chest as she inspected his swollen pink lips. She reached up against his cheek softly, then tightened her grip against his skin. She needed him. Now. 

His skin was warm against her touch, his freckles shining on his skin as she inspected the moles on his face. She had once tried to cover all of his pretty spots with kisses, only for him to tire once she reached his chest. She thought they were cute, which only earned a little eye roll from him. But she was determined to try again. She liked how it made him flush. 

“Should we go upstairs?” She asked him, face burning and out of breath as she whispered to him. She hated being the one to make the first move, but she was beginning to feel like he enjoyed it. 

“Calm down,” he grinned as his lips dragged against hers softly once again, his breath hot against her skin, “there’s no rush.” He added as he grazed his teeth across her neck, making her heart hammer roughly inside of her chest. 

“Your parents are here.” She squeaked out softly as she looked at him with wide eyes, watching the way his features turned to amusement. Like he was playing with her. 

“We’re just kissing,” he teased as he kissed along the curve of her lips, his fingers dancing across her cheeks, “S’fine. They’re busy.” He confirmed as he pecked her lips once, then twice as he moved his hands back to her jawline. 

“Just kissing?” She asked softly, giggling as he brushed his nose against her cheek. He shook his head softly, chuckling underneath his breath. 

“You pervert.” He grinned as he played with her hair, making her lips part in surprise. She shook her head quickly, denying whatever he was thinking. It wasn’t like that at all, she just didn’t want to get in trouble. 

“I’m not a pervert,” she defended herself in a hushed manner, her cheeks burning hotly at the accusation, “I just-,” she trailed off, unsure of where she was going with her statement. He was different in a way that he didn’t want to rush like most boys did. He liked to take things slow, something she wasn’t used to. 

“Mhm,” he grinned proudly, as if he was onto something, “s’alright, I like it.” He teased as he traced his fingers across her cheek softly, movements light as if he was trying to trace the freckles on her cheeks.

“Sounds like you’re the pervert then.” She told him quickly, only to be shushed by the feeling of his mouth crashing onto hers again. She instantly melted, caving into him as his fingers dug deeper against her face. 

His lips dragged against hers a little harder then, not by much, but just enough to make her croon underneath him. His free hand began to rub at her hip, squeezing as he captured her bottom lip between his teeth.

She gasped at the feeling of his teeth biting down on her flesh, a soft moan spilling free as he slipped his fingertips delicately inside the band of her skirt. Shivers erupted over her skin as he kissed at her sore lip, his hand slithering further down her skirt. 

“Steve,” she whispered against his mouth, gasping as he began to press inside of her panties, “what are you doing?” She asked as she felt her eyes widening, cheeks flushing as she tried to look over her shoulder. His parents couldn’t be too far away.

“Helping you,” he mumbled as his lips continued to graze over her cheek, her jaw and then her neck. She jolted softly at the feeling, biting back a giggle as he kissed over ticklish spot, “since you’re so needy.” He teased as he brought his warm eyes back towards her, making her heart hammer against her bones.

She pressed her lips together, trying to keep from moaning as he slid his fingers across her slick folds. He groaned softly as his head fell against hers, inhaling deeply as he pressed down on her clit lightly. She jerked up against him, biting down on her bottom lip this time to keep from sighing at the sensation. 

It was hard to focus with his lips across her neck, licking and sucking as he began to rub his fingers in soft circles over her clit. A little whimper slipped free from her lips this time, her hips rolling up to meet his motions. 

“Shh,” he teased, smirking as he looked up at her, “just relax. I’ll take care of you.” He promised as he guided his fingertips along her slick hole, making her stomach twist in awe.

His eyes scanned her features as he slowly slid one finger inside of her, long and nimble as her walls stretched around him. She parted her lips in surprise, eyelashes fluttering as she savored the way he filled her to the brim. His fingers were nice, lengthy enough to hit the deepest spots inside of her.

She just barely adjusted around him, clit aching for more when he slid in a second finger afterwords. She bit back a whimper, rolling her hips forward softly to meet his movements. A little groan left his lips as he watched her, his own features filling with bliss as he admired her pleasure. 

“Steve,” she hummed underneath her breath, chest rising as she curled her fingers into fists. She breathed in deeply, reminding herself of where she was. Of course close his parents were. She needed to be quiet, to remain calm, “I want you.” She whispered as she gave him a reassuring nod, sure that she would be able to do it. She’d been in worse situations. 

His eyes twinkled with mischief as he slowly curled his fingers upwards, searching for the spot inside of her that made her go wild. Her body tingled in pleasure at the sensation, walls clamping down around him as he hovered closer to her. 

He traced his lips over hers again, soothing away her moans as he began to kiss her. She lingered against his mouth, mind feeling fuzzy as he continued to slowly curl his fingers into her slick hole. 

Her pulse raced as the pleasure spread through her, electricity brewing in her veins as she slowly began to rock herself over the curve of his digits. It was enough to make her eyelashes flutter, her clit throbbing as he stole the air from her lungs. 

She breathed out against his lips, eyes feeling heavy as she continued to grind herself over the curve of his fingers. Each thrust made her clit ache, her cunt squeezing around the girth of his digits as he kissed her a little harder. 

His fingers reached the deepest parts of her, curling deep inside of her walls as she began to rock her body against him. She felt her eyes rolling into the back of her head as he began to stroke her bundle of nerves, a reassuring coo leaving his lips as she whined against him.

Her lungs began to burn, craving oxygen but unable to comply. She didn’t want to stop kissing him, she needed him that badly. She savored the feeling of his mouth against hers, how sweet and gentle he felt. How he made her melt against him, like she needed to be a part of him. 

Her toes curled at the intense feeling that poured over her, making her feel like she was floating high above the couch. Her mouth parted in bliss, silent moans pouring free as he continued to kiss along the curve of her lips while grinding his fingers inside of her. 

“Steve,” she squeaked out as she gripped his bicep, eyebrows furrowing together tightly as she tried to keep from getting too loud. The pleasure crashed over her intensely, harshly as her muscles tightened in her stomach, “oh God.” She arched her back against him, head falling against the couch as she came.

Her walls shook around his long fingers, trembling as he coaxed her through her orgasm. Her eyes felt heavy, mind blissful as he cooed softly in her ear. She clung to him, holding onto him tightly as she fought the urge to cry out. 

“Doing so good for me, honey,” he praised as he kissed her cheek softly, continuing to move his fingers softly until her body relaxed underneath him, “You did so well.” He hummed as he came to a stop, making her wiggle underneath him once again.

Her lips parted as he slowly removed his digits from her soaked cunt, her skin flushing at the sound that came from their joined bodies. He smirked as he admired the slick that coated his fingers, his lips curling into a little smirk before he slid them into his mouth. 

“You’re bad, Steve Harrington.” She whispered underneath her breath, heart hammering as she watched the greedy way he licked at his own fingers. He wasn’t as kinky as she was used to, but he always loved the taste of her. Almost in a feral way. 

“I am?” he grinned as he licked his fingers clean, making her face burn as he watched her, “I’m pretty sure you’re the naughty one out of the two of us.” He teased as he straightened her clothes out over her legs, sighing deeply as he rested against her. 

“I’m good,” she bit her lip as she moved her hand between their bodies this time, pressing her palm against the obvious bulge in his jeans. He groaned, the cocky expression falling as he began to grind his hips against her, “poor thing. I can help you.”

He nodded eagerly, looking like he was unable to speak as he slowly rutted his hips forward. She watched the way his expression turned to pleasure, his lips parting as she began to rub against his hard cock within his pants. 

“Steve?” She froze, eyes widening at the sound of his mother’s voice a few feet away, “Dinner is ready.” She yelled out in a sing-song way, sounding excited. Kim sank into the couch deeper, hoping that she couldn’t be seen. 

“Now?” He whined as his expression turned towards anguish, his head snapping up to look towards his mother. Kim quickly pulled her hand away, not wanting to get caught with her hand on his crotch. 

“Now,” She confirmed sternly, “don’t make that poor girl wait.” Kim could practically see her wagging her finger, just from her tone alone. It sort of made her smile though, knowing that his parents were at least a little fond of her. 

“Fuck.” He whined as he dropped his head into the crook of her shoulder, pouting as he clung to her. She giggled as she held onto him, playing with the hairs against the nape of his neck. She could still feel his bulge digging into her skin, unable to be hidden away. 

“Told you we should’ve hidden up in your room.” She teased in a smug way, giggling at how he whined in response. 

[sadlybluespirited]

Like yes, Eris on paper is the partner her mother wanted for her but I think that still could've worked. On the surface, we could've gotten more world building and lore about what it means to be an heir to the high lord position and how the autumn court functions.

If SJM is wanting to go the "misunderstood character" angle that she seemingly does with Eris then his relationship with Nesta would've worked as an avenue. Also who better to understand Nesta's plight of a domineering parent and a life where your life and future are decided for you than Eris?

I don't mind Nessian all that much. I've seen reasons why it could've worked had SJM handled it better but canon Cassian's love and devotion to Rhysand and Feyre just makes me doubtful of this love that SJM has written for them.

“eris is the type of man nesta’s mother would have chosen for her” look i don’t disagree, there is truth to that but so is cassian

cassian isn’t a poor fella. yes he’s a bastard, but he is the commander of night court, part of the high lord’s council, lives a very high, privileged life

power! title! in name money! old!

ironically nesta is living the life she would have if her mother managed to marry her off to some rich old man

tied to a man that hurts nesta, doesn’t listen to her or respects her boundaries, doesn’t value her or cherishes her

stuck in a place she can’t leave with a family who judges her every action so she has to play pretend

molded into something else, a doll, to please a man and be worthy of his and his family’s affection and image

basically that miserable loveless life where nesta can’t be herself nor live as she wants to nor have dreams of her own