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in-my-feels-probably · 1 year

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your Jon Snow works have been so good thus far, I’d love to see more of them!! would you consider writing a kind of comfort fic for Jon helping a reader with her/their (whatever you’re more comfortable with) anxiety, maybe something traumatic happens to them like they were taken by Ramsay and then rescued by Jon and afterwards a man corners her/them or something and reader has a really bad panic attack and Jon Snow, like the storm that he is, swoops in to save and calm them??

You and Me

Request: your Jon Snow works have been so good thus far, I’d love to see more of them!! would you consider writing a kind of comfort fic for Jon helping a reader with her/their (whatever you’re more comfortable with) anxiety, maybe something traumatic happens to them like they were taken by Ramsay and then rescued by Jon and afterwards a man corners her/them or something and reader has a really bad panic attack and Jon Snow, like the storm that he is, swoops in to save and calm them??

and: PLEASE more protective!Jon Snow content!!! 😭 he’s such an angsty gem who’s never had anything truly his own and the thought of someone trying to upset or hurt his LOVE!!!! GODS HELP anyone who tries it!

Hi! I hope y’all are alright with me combining your requests, and me having a fem reader in mind while writing, it just makes sense for this request and is easiest for me to write. Bear with me, there’s a lot of setup. I love Jon, I wish there was more work for him out there, so I tend to go a little overboard with backstory for his fics. I’m definitely happy to write for him!

I wrote about half this and realized I didn’t want to do a Ramsay plotline, it wasn’t turning out well and it felt unnecessarily heavy. So, I scrapped it and started over, hopefully that didn’t mess it up too bad. I decided to address the anxiety and protectiveness part of the request differently.

Other than that, I hope you enjoy it! Thank you again for the requests, feel free to send me any other ideas you have for the characters I write for :)

(Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of torture, trauma, fear of abandonment, anxiety and panic attacks, nightmares, let me know if i missed anything)

—

You had grown up in Winterfell, a friend to all the Stark children. Your Father was one of the bannerman to Lord Stark, and so you called the North home.

Even though Winterfell wasn’t your birthplace, you spent much of your life there.

Winterfell was the seat of the North, and your Father wanted you to spend as much time there as you could. If you were going to one day be the future of a great Northern House, it was best you were around the greatest Northern House.

Lord Stark agreed to take you in, assuming that one day, you may marry into his family, or another family he thought you were well suited for. You could hardly remember your birthplace a year after going to Winterfell.

It felt more like home than any other place in Westeros.

You were friendly with all the Stark children. They all liked you well enough. You were older than half of them, but they still enjoyed your company just as much as you enjoyed theirs.

You became a good friend to Sansa. She was a few years younger, but the closest girl in age to you. Remembering your Father’s wishes for you, you became much like a Lady in waiting to her. She always looked to you for advice and wisdom that you had, simply because you had lived longer and had seen more than her.

You supposed that one day, Lord Stark might promise you to his eldest son, Robb.

While you were fond of him, and he was fond of you, neither of you were that interested in each other. If it came down to marriage, you both would do your duties to your houses. You may not have been in love, but you certainly did love each other. It would have been an easy marriage. Friends from the start. It was more than most Ladies could have hoped for.

“Not pretty enough for you, My Lady?” Robb had jokingly asked when you both had been informed of your potential future engagement. “I suppose you have your eyes on a prettier someone.”

You had rolled your eyes, grinning. “You’re very pretty, My Lord. You know that as well as I do, don’t you?”

Robb wasn’t the one you had your eye on. No, not at all, and you both knew that. You both had agreed there was someone much more suited for you.

That someone was Jon. You were the closest to Robb in age, so you spent a lot of time with him, and with Jon by extension.

You knew Jon was a bastard.

But you didn’t care. He was just as much a Stark as the rest of the Stark children. Ned Stark’s blood ran through his veins. Why should he have to pay for the sins of his Father, and bear the name Snow? It was a custom of Westeros you hated.

He was wary of you at first. He was interested in you, there was no doubt about that. But you eventually became great friends. It was only when you started to express an interest in him that you could no longer deny your feelings for one another.

And the thought terrified him.

You were a Lady of a noble House, you were intended to marry a Lord of high stature and nobility. Not the son of a Lord who raised him out of pity and the good of his heart. Why were you interested in a man who could give you nothing but shame and humiliation?

It took you years to convince Jon he was enough for you, and that you didn’t care who his parents were.

Your family didn’t hold the same opinion, however, and were adamant about matching you with someone like Robb. Jon had alway been jealous of Robb. His potential engagement to you only added fuel to the fire.

You never acknowledged Jon’s doubts, always making sure he knew just how much you valued him. By the time he started to believe it, Robert Baratheon came to Winterfell.

Your last words to Jon weren’t the kindest.

“You’d really go to the Wall? You’d leave me here while you go sit at the edge of the world, and for what? You think the Night’s Watch will be your brothers? Not your actual brothers?”

“There’s nothing here for me,” he argued. “I’ll be treated more like family there than I ever was here. My Uncle is there.”

“And I am here!”

Jon’s face fell as he watched you nearly shake with rage. “Yes, you’re here. Robb is here, too. He’ll be the Lord of Winterfell in my Father’s stead. Stay with him.”

“I won’t,” you refused. “I love Robb, but he’s not mine. I don’t want him to be mine. If you go to the Wall, I will follow Sansa to King’s Landing. There’s nothing for me here if you’re at the Wall.”

“Y/N, don’t. There’s nothing in the capital for you.”

“That may be true. But there will be nothing left for me here either, so what does it matter? I’ll have just about as much purpose there as you will have at the Wall.”

Within a fortnight, Jon was headed for the Wall, and you were following Sansa to King’s Landing. How unbelievably naive you all had been.

When Ned was executed, Sansa was held hostage. The night of the Battle of Blackwater Bay, she told you to flee.

The Hound had come and offered to take her with him, but she refused, turning to you.

“They’re not after you, Y/N, but they very well could be soon. They won’t kill me, they still need me to get the Queen’s brother back. But you, they don’t need. I will not watch you suffer or die because you stayed here to protect me. Go. Please.”

You had argued, but finally relented, fleeing.

The Hound got you out of the city, but wouldn’t take you any further. You couldn’t be ransomed back to your family for enough to make him rich, and Robb was at war with your Father and your Father’s men.

There was no one to return you to.

Instead, you slowly made your way North. It took months and months to travel as safely as you could, which proved to be quite the challenge. You had plenty of time to think about all you had left behind. Your family, Winterfell, the Stark children….Jon. It still pained you to think of him, but he was often on your mind as you traveled. You avoided the Kingsroad, but finally made it to Harrenhal.

And who else would you meet along the way there, but Brienne of Tarth, and Jaime fucking Lannister.

By the time you found them, you had been away from any family you had ever known for many months. Word slowly spread of the death of the King in the North. Betrayed and murdered by his own men. When the whispers of the massacre finally fell on your ears, it brought you to your knees.

Robb was the best of you…and now he was gone.

You expected the news would have reached Sansa before you, and you decided that you’d sooner die, rather than let the two of you suffer alone. So, you returned to King’s Landing with Brienne and Jaime.

On the way back to King’s Landing in the time that it took you to return, Sansa had been married to Tyrion Lannister, and Margaery Tyrell was engaged to Joffrey Baratheon.

When you arrived, you thought it was better to keep out of sight, just in case someone recognized you. However, you still wanted to be informed. So you went to the most informed man in King’s Landing, and possibly the entirety of Westeros.

Littlefinger.

He allowed you to stay in one of his establishments, but for a price. He wouldn’t help you out of the kindness of his heart. No, you needed to give him something in return.

“I suppose you’d do anything for Sansa Stark, wouldn’t you?”

You nodded. “I’d give my life for her, if it came to it. I’m going to get her back.”

He had laughed in your face.

“And how do you suppose you’re going to do that?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “But I came back to this hellhole of a city for her. I’m not leaving until she’s by my side again. She’s the last of the Starks, and I’ll die before I see her fall, too.”

Lord Baelish took that as his opportunity to use you, knowing you’d never do something to put Sansa in harm’s way. So he let you in on part of the plan, and on the day of Joffrey’s death, you helped Sansa escape King’s Landing.

You couldn’t go with her.

The goal was getting her out of the city, and Ser Dontos couldn’t sneak both you and Sansa out at the same time. So once the plan was set in motion, and Sansa was gone, you searched for Brienne. She was perhaps the only person in the city who had even the slightest interest of saving your life, and you knew she’d accept you because of your knowledge of Sansa and the North.

You had no idea part of the plan entailed killing Joffrey. You thought Littlefinger had come up with some sort of distraction, one that would work long enough to get Sansa out. When you heard of his death, you knew you had to leave. If Cersei caught you, she’d use you as a way to find Sansa. She’d stop at nothing, and you’d either end up dead or tortured beyond recognition in an effort to locate Sansa.

During your time in King’s Landing before the Battle of Blackwater Bay, Tyrion Lannister had taken a liking to you. You rarely spoke, but when you did he seemed fond of you.

He arranged for Podrick to find you after he learned of Sansa’s escape. Podrick had become a squire to Brienne, and they agreed to take you with them. You had sworn to serve the Starks, just as Brienne had sworn to find the Stark girls. You had a mutual interest, and were better off together.

It was you who told Brienne that Littlefinger would probably take Sansa to the Vale. It was you who took the lead after finding out Littlefinger had married Sansa to Ramsay Bolton after the death of Lysa Arryn. It was you who rode for Winterfell a day ahead of Podrick and Brienne, looking for your best chance of rescuing Sansa.

And it was you who was successful saving her.

Brienne and Podrick caught up, making sure you all lived to see the Wall. Sansa and Theon were saved, and together, you decided you, Sansa, Brienne, and Podrick would ride to Castle Black. Jon had become Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, and he was your best chance at reuniting with the last of the Stark children.

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be apart from them any longer.

They were your true family, blood or not, and they were all you had left. There was nowhere else for you to go. All you could hope was that they’d let you follow them wherever they went.

And they did.

You followed Sansa all the way to Castle Black. Women weren’t welcome at the Wall, but you’d be damned if anyone tried to force either of you out. When you arrived at the gates, you felt like you were going to be sick.

You were let in, and you rode into the center of the square. You dismounted, and moved to steady Sansa as she slid off her horse, before turning to look at your surroundings.

And there he was.

Jon Snow. Alive, and the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. Standing on the balcony overlooking the square. You nearly collapsed with relief at the sight of him. He came down the stairs, and held Sansa tight in his arms. When he set her down, his eyes fell on you.

You could no longer hold back your tears, breaking down when he reached for you. You flung your arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to himself.

“I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Me neither,” you mumbled into his shoulder. “But look at you now. We’ve come a far way from Winterfell.”

He nearly laughed, clutching the back of your coat. “Aye, we have. It appears the Gods haven’t been kind to either of us.”

You pulled away, running your thumb along the scar that ran from his brow to his cheek. He stilled under your touch, holding his breath.

“No…no they haven’t.”

Shortly after your reunion, you built your army to reclaim Winterfell.

The Battle of the Bastards was a gruesome one, to be sure. Ramsey killed Rickon Stark. Mere days of knowing he was alive, just for him to slip through your fingers so easily.

The little boy you had read to all those years ago, and carried around while you had Robb entertain you. The boy you didn’t get to watch grow up into a man, stolen from you and your family.

You thought you were going to lose all of what family you had left, that is until Sansa arrived with the Knights of the Vale.

It was a miracle.

The Starks returned to the North, to their family home. For the first time in years, there was actual peace amongst you and your family. For the time being, there was no reason to run or panic.

So why did you still wake yourself up screaming every night, tormented by dreams of all the ways your family could be taken away from you?

You had nightmares, nearly every night.

Some you remembered, some you didn’t. But they were always the same. Your family was gone, both your house and the Starks. Either dead, or they had left you. When you found out that members of the Night’s Watch had actually killed Jon, you nearly went mad.

In the days after the battle, Jon kept you close by his side.

He was beginning to worry about you. You were a shell of yourself, compared to the girl he once knew. He noticed, and those who knew you before noticed.

One night, the remaining Lords and Ladies of the North, as well as the free folk, were gathered in the banquet hall for a meal. You stayed quiet, minding your business as everyone chatted. You preferred staying close to a familiar face, like Jon, Tormund, or Sansa. But when they were held up, you decided to be brave and go talk with someone.

Ser Davos was the easiest option. “Having fun, My Lady?”

“Yes, Ser Davos. Thank you for asking. And you? I know it’s a bit cold up here for a Southerner.”

“I’m beginning to take the words of House Stark more seriously,” he mused, making you chuckle. “It’s bloody freezing up here. I don’t know how you Northerners manage it.”

Lord Hornwood overheard your conversation, cutting in. “You haven’t been in the North for some time, My Lady. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, My Lord,” you nodded, albeit annoyed.

“Your Father would roll over in his grave seeing his daughter shiver in the snow, wouldn’t he?” He joked, but you weren’t laughing. “Gods rest him. He was a fine man, your Father.”

“He was,” you agreed. “I miss him every day. But I do my best not to dwell on what I cannot change.”

Lord Hornwood nodded. “I miss him too. Shame you weren’t here with him when he died. He fought for King Robb. Where were you?”

“That’s enough,” Ser Davos said, getting up to stand in between you and Lord Hornwood. “You’re drunk. Go sober up, My Lord.”

“You’re lucky you’re pretty. I don’t see what other reason Jon would have for keeping you around. You’re practically a ghost of the girl I once knew.”

“That’s enough!” Ser Davos said again.

Your face fell at Lord Hornwood’s words, turning your eyes away from him. Tormund, who had just passed by you, noticed the tension in the air. He took one look at you and headed for the table where Jon was sitting.

In just a few seconds, Jon was standing behind you.

“Lord Hornwood…surely some of the other guests are wanting your attention. Why don’t you go say hello?”

Lord Hornwood shook his head, reaching for his horn of ale. Jon put his hand over the top of it, yanking it back from him. He gave him a look that would have sent any man packing, quickly glancing back and forth between you and him. You hadn’t looked up yet.

“Go, My Lord,” Jon said, laying a firm hand on his shoulder as he lowered his voice. “If I hear that you’ve spoken out of turn to Lady Y/N again, you’ll be taking yourself and your men back to your own damn castle. Are we clear?”

Lord Hornwood begrudgingly nodded, accepting defeat. He retreated, leaving you, Jon, and Ser Davos alone at a table.

Jon laid a gentle hand on your shoulder, getting your attention. “Come sit up here with me, My Lady. Sansa has been asking for you.”

You nodded, taking his hand as he led you back to his table. You took a seat next to Sansa, who squeezed your hand in hers.

“He’s an idiot. Don’t listen to him. You’re just as much a Northerner as I am. The only reason you weren’t in the North is because you were following me.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I think half the men in this room blame me for Robb’s death.”

“That’s not true,” Jon said, trying his best to comfort you. “How could they blame you for that, you weren’t even there?”

“Exactly. None of us were. But everyone expected me to marry Robb one day. When I left Winterfell, he and your parents moved past that idea, and he was free to marry Lady Talisa. If I had married him, he never would have married her, and maybe he would have kept his head.”

“That’s ridiculous! Nobody can blame you for that,” Sansa said.

You smiled sadly at her. “And yet, they do. I’ve heard whispers of it so often since returning home that I’m beginning to believe it myself.”

“Tell me the next time you hear these whispers,” Jon said, giving you a look so serious it nearly scared you, and it wasn’t even you that it was intended for. “I’ll make sure they’re put in there place.”

“You’re going to punish every man who says something harsh to me? Send them away? Seems like we’ll run out of men,” you mused.

You were joking, but it was clear by his tone that he was not. “Then we’ll just have to come up with a better punishment, won’t we?”

You said nothing, giving him a grateful smile. You had missed him. It was good to know after all these years that he was still the man you remembered…just with a few scars. But what did that matter?

You all had scars.

That evening, you had a nightmare worse than any in recent memory.

You woke with a panic so bad that you couldn’t get your lungs to full with air. You were desperately gasping for it, clutching at your chest. In a haze, you threw on your shoes and coat, scrambling to get out of your chambers. You ran down the corridor, hardly even recognizing where it was that your feet were taking you.

Suddenly, you appeared outside Jon’s door.

Before you could stop yourself, you were rapidly knocking, pleading for him to open it. He finally did, opening the door as he rubbed his eyes.

His eyes widened as he took you in. “Y/N?”

“I didn’t know where else to go, I’m sorry—“

“It’s alright,” he said, easing you into the room and shutting the door behind you. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“I…I had a nightmare.”

He took your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Breathe. Copy me…breathe.”

You steadied your breath as he steadied you, letting him guide you. Jon sat you down on the edge of his bed, wrapping a fur around your shoulders. He gently sat down next to you, turning his body to face you.

“You’ve been having them a lot recently, haven’t you?”

You slowly nodded. “How did you know?”

“Do you remember the day that man from the Night’s Watch abandoned his post, and ran all the way to Winterfell? He was raving about the White Walkers, all the way up until my Father removed his head from his shoulders.”

“I remember,” you said, nearly shivering at the memory.

“Father made us all watch, but you stayed with Arya. Bran had to watch with us, and he didn’t want to go. So, you promised you’d wait for him at the bottom of the hill. You were far away…but I know you saw that man die.”

You slowly nodded. “I did. I couldn’t get the image out of my head for weeks.”

“And you had nightmares about it, I know you did. You never told me about them, but I could see the fear. I could always tell when you were afraid. You hide it well, though, I’ll give you that.”

“I had to hide it,” you explained. “Your siblings were scared. The little ones, at least. I couldn’t very well let Bran come back down that hill to see me shaking with fear, could I? I had to put on a strong face in the days after so they wouldn’t be scared either.”

Jon nodded. “I know that. But you were still scared, I could tell. You were always quieter in the mornings after you had a nightmare. I kept waiting for you to say something to me about it, but you never did.”

“I didn’t want to worry you over something so stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid then, and it isn’t stupid now,” he said, holding your hand in his. “If it panicked you as much as I just saw, you need to tell me about it.”

“Jon—” You started, not wanting to bother him, but he interrupted you.

“Y/N…just tell me. I’ll listen. It can’t be any more outlandish than an army of the dead.”

He was joking, trying to make you feel better. You mustered a small smile, but it meant nothing to either of you. You both knew you didn’t really mean it.

“I’ve been having these dreams…since Rickon.”

Jon’s face fell, but he nodded for you to continue.

“I see him die in my dreams. I can’t get it out of my head.”

“No, that’s not possible,” Jon said, squeezing your hand. “You weren’t there, I made sure you weren’t. You didn’t watch him die.”

“I saw his body, Jon. I can put together the rest of what happened to him. I know it’s irrational, I know that there was nothing any of us could have done to save him. But I just feel so guilty. Another Stark, gone.”

Jon moved closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “You’re not responsible for their deaths, Y/N.”

You shook your head. “I certainly haven’t helped save them, have I? I can’t even tell a Lord to piss off when he’s bothering me, how could I save a Stark?”

“You’re perfectly capable of doing that, I just like helping you. And you have helped save them. Sansa is alive because you went to King’s Landing with her when I went to the Wall. She wouldn’t have escaped without you, and she wouldn’t have made it to Castle Black if you hadn’t come with her.”

You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Then why is Rickon still in my head, reminding me that I couldn’t save him? Why am I dreaming about the Starks dying?”

Jon squeezed you into him, his voice soft. “Rickon wasn’t the last of the Starks.”

“I know,” you said, leaning into his side. “It just feels like you’re all slipping through my fingers, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m afraid that one day, I’ll be without you all.”

It was quiet for a moment as Jon took in your words. You didn’t speak, letting him think. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Is that what your nightmare was about tonight? Rickon? Or was it something else?”

“It started out as him,” you said, trying to remember. “But that’s not how it ended. I remember feeling scared. I remember looking for someone. I couldn’t find you, or Sansa…and I was alone. Here, home in Winterfell after the battle. But I couldn’t find you.”

“Was I dead?” Jon asked, trying to understand.

“No,” you answered. “I remember that much. That was the worst of it. You were just gone. You had left, or you had been driven out, I don’t know. But I wasn’t with you.”

Jon wrapped both his arms around your shoulders, holding you tight. He laid his chin on your shoulder, gently rocking you back and forth.

“I don’t know what you dreamed, Y/N. I don’t know what any of it means. But I know this…I’m never going to leave you. Not you, or Sansa, or anyone else in my family ever again. It’s you and me, Y/N. You and me.”

You turned around in his arms, wrapping your arms around his waist. Your voice was small and muffled in his shoulder as you spoke.

“You promise?”

Jon felt his heart break at your words, and yet he knew you’d be the one who was capable of putting it back together. He pulled you close, holding you tight.

“I promise. Wherever you go…I go.”

—

A/N - Hi! Not loving this outcome, but I also really like certain parts from this. And you’ve waited long enough, so here you go! I hope you enjoyed it, please let me know what you think! If you have any other requests or ideas, my requests are still open :)

#jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon snow imagine #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones

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socheckitout-mikey · 2 years

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heey y’all! (‘: i don’t usually write smut, but this was a request from my old blog. it’s taken my ass like deadass three years to write it. ik it’s super long and i got carried away, but i’m proud bc i haven’t written smut in a very long time. originally it was meant to be semi nsfw but i went the whole nine yards instead!

also i’d like to give credit to @brideofcthulhu10 for helping me with this one. she helped co-write the beginning, whilst also giving me amazing pointers and keeping me on track when it came to marko’s character. so deffo give her blog a look through bc she’s such an amazing writer! <3333 - mae

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:��ﾟ✧

(GIF credit: @bonniebirddoesgifs)

Title: The Dilemma

Pairings: Marko x Fem!Reader

Summary: As any high-school senior, end of year exams encroach upon you, which results in your disappearance from the infamous Boardwalk. Marko, your vampiric boyfriend, feels awfully neglected and sees the strain that boring old studying is causing you. After being a gigantic nuisance in your time of need, Marko decides to aid you with your dilemma by getting you to to unwind. An innocent massage turns to much more. (READER IS 18/19 YEARS OLD IN THIS PIECE!!!)

Word count: 9,916

Warnings: SMUT AHEAD SO 18+ ONLY!!! MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!! READER IS 18/19 IN THIS PIECE!!! Anxiety, angst, mentions of tension with parents, mentions of reader throwing things at Marko (mainly bc he scared her and also a plushie), established relationship, argument, make out session, massage, oral (female receiving), sexual content, unprotected sex, hair pulling, marking, depictions of blood, blood drinking/feeding and Marko being a sex God v.v Lemme know if I missed anything.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 　　 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Finals had encroached upon you and the rest of your senior class like a throttling bitter conclusion. An immense pressure had settled upon your slumped shoulders in a complex manner. It all gave you an uproarious migraine. Perched upon those shoulders of yours was a Devil and an Angel, reciting an exhausting, unanimous monologue you had encountered fervently with frustration and exhaustion for the past few weeks. The Devil enumerated vividly about how the stress of hunching over your books would only cause your spine to permanently warp, whilst grey hairs would prematurely appear on your head. It whispered of the sincere notion that you would be able to seek vehement pleasure by kicking back and relaxing with your boyfriend Marko; who currently laid sprawled out against your cushiony pink covers in an absurdly bored fashion behind you. He was the poster child of, “Are you finished yet?”

His only purpose was to grate on your nerves that much more viciously.

The Angel held up its own assertive chant with the utmost conviction. A soothing lullaby that frankly lulled you into boring hibernation, as if you were a grizzly bear entering its cave for the tundric winter months to come. You were well aware that it spoke of knowledge, reason and logic. The qualities that were dwindling — yet with its vibrant torch, it led the way to the future you so desperately had dreamed of since you were in middle school: A good job meant a good home, and so the domino effect would hopefully follow you in a cascading positive effect. Yet passing wasn’t everything, right? Well, the Angels’ lustrous song seemed to disrupt the already choppy sea wrecking the ships in your mind, pointing the way to salvation. However, you felt as though the Devil latched on, shoving you under the bartering force that the School District whipped into your back. You were merely a slave to the formidable system.

And thus the Angel and Devil fought their daunting battle amongst who could lead you quicker to each destination they desired for you to propel towards. The truth of the matter was that there was no balance within the chaos. You either went all in or did nothing at all. You were only battling with the Yin and Yang within you, but you didn't quite realise that. You needed someone else to obtain that truth and light it up in a firework festival. That someone was unfortunately your bouncing boyfriend Marko.

The sudden weight upon your tired shoulders felt like an angsty teen drama — unbearable. They slumped down with a force as you looked at the Math equations before you with contempt. Your mind was playing tricks on you because now the algebra seemed to be written in some bizarre language you swore was only known by extraterrestrials. Never had you experienced such affliction quite so potent in all of your young years of living until this very moment in time. High school, fortunately, had come and gone like the spring’s floral breeze, allowing for the stuffy summer heat to bound through the atmosphere like a blundering bull in a China shop. Great, now you were sweating too.

Despite your immortal boyfriend, Marko, having intermittently insisted that you hadn’t needed the extra education, you had graciously swung your bat in a conflicting vicious fashion. Your battered old baseball had leapt its last journey, landing into the lap of a comfortable Community College here in Santa Carla. Your original aim and hope had been to apply for greener pastures, such as the university in the nearest plush city. Yet you knew it was too far away from the Boardwalk. Your painfully vampiric boyfriend would kick up a putrid stink at the mere notion of you being so far away. Especially since daytime already kept you both apart, creating such a colourful apprehension to course through your very mortal veins.

You’d miss Marko too much as well, and slumming it under your bed in the dorm room all day and night just wouldn’t cut it. It wasn’t going to be the ideal move for any party involved. Familiar sunny Santa Carla would just have to do before you surfed your last wave, ticketing you straight to The Immortality Club.

“College?!” Marko sputtered out like a dying steam engine.

His hazel eyes blinked several times in absolute bewilderment as his body froze. The brown fuzzy teddy bear he had been carelessly chucking up and down in the air in a mindless fashion missed his right hand entirely. Its furry, soft backside flopped with a tender bounce atop his chest.

“Why would you go back to school baby?” He inquired desperately, “You’re already done.” His words hung in the air, thick like an uncomfortable smog riddled with consternation.

His nimble fingers swatted the bear off of him and he sat up straighter than a plank. The tender plush bounced off of your floorboards, tumbling into your open closet.

The same fingers suddenly danced restlessly to your dusty, cluttered nightstand where he aimed for that prized purple pen with the fluffy pom-pom dotted on the end of it: His digits fiddled with it fruitlessly, eyebrows creased together. Boy was he all sorts of twitchy tonight since boredom had taken hold of him by the balls. He felt as though he was going crazy. Especially with the apprehension at your announcement to further your needless education. Who needed books and crammed study sessions when you could be a youthful undead being for the rest of eternity? You’d never grow old, never die — this was a total blessing sitting right in your lap! Yet you shoved it off to the side without another thought. All of the previous discussions you’d had with him about turning meant nothing to you now, or so it seemed. Poofing into thin air, therefore to Marko, it meant you’d been replaced by some other worldly ghost that reeked of crippled anxiety; which, by the way, was akin to the rotting scent of death itself.

He had lazily propped himself against the headboard of your bed now, eyes not meetings yours — almost as if he were too meek to look up at you. He already knew the answer to his question from interpreting the blurry, chaotic dance of your thoughts rattling in your brittle skull. One more thought and your head would come blowing off! After all, he’d also noticed that physically you were in a frenzied stupor of stress and inner turmoil. You reeked of palpable insecurity and rotting angst, just like a teenage drama on screen. Blegh! It caused the blond boy to crinkle his hooked nose wryly, warping his angelic gestures.

Part of the reason why Marko alluded to the opportunity of peering up at you was due to the simple fact that his visit had come to be a frightening ordeal on your behalf. One that led to an abundant earful of curses and a book to have been launched at him — almost knocking his head clean off his shoulders. Right, you had the reflexes of a rabid raccoon startled by a rat when you were snuck up on. He knew better than to do such a thing. Luckily he had ducked just in time, smartly remarking that you should have gone for sports instead. He regretted the witty quip instantly by the displeased look on your face. So he was cast upon your frilly bed to pass the time like a woeful jester sentenced to imprisonment for not having entertained his Queen accordingly. The tragedy of it all!

And although you were aggravated at his unexpected visit — more salty over the fact he’d frightened you —, you did not have the slightest of hearts to kick him out. It felt too heart wrenching for you to do so. In fact, it was like kicking a stray kitten out into the rain. His damn bulbous eyes whenever you’d get close to the notion would appear like round, quivering rain drops — the pupils heavily swallowing the earthy iris. So you sighed instead, turning back to your work whilst Marko made himself comfortable. Well, as comfortable as his bored self would permit.

“I don’t want just a job, Marko.” You muttered irately under your breath from over your complex Math equations that were scrawled in their dreadful chicken scratch language upon gridded paper.

“I want a career! I wanna hone a craft.” You explained further with a nonchalant wave of your wrist. Your tone was curt, attempting to balance out his boredom that apparently began to increase the longer he remained there.

You paid no heed to his insistence, scribbling your notes with a vengeance for the paper you carved it into.

“That’s what I mean though,” Marko huffed out a hefty sigh, sitting up straight suddenly with his legs criss-crossed in a half lotus position. “Why do you need to work, anyway? Just one bite and BAM! All your problems would be gone, baby doll. I keep tellin’ ya!” He exclaimed animatedly, hands thrown up in the air in his own heated and wondrous stupor.

He’d even get David to teach you how to use compulsion so you could get whatever you wanted. It was so pathetically simple! He wondered now if you’d hit your head recently to have forgotten the simplicities of becoming a vampire. No stress would ensue, so long as you abided but the rules. Why couldn’t you just see that?

“Hush! I’ve already made up my mind about this. You’re not going to change it!” You quipped back sharply, grabbing a rusty coloured stuffed cat from your messy desk and hurled it half heartedly in his direction for the second time that night.

Damn, you really did mean business tonight.

The plushie cat managed (miraculously may I add) to bounce tenderly off of the side of his perky blond curls. A low laugh escaped from his sharp mouth. He was well aware by now that you were only attempting to push him away due to the draining stress of academics. The prospect of taking things too personally had been going really swell up until this point. He wasn’t going to afford himself to buckle now like he would from anyone else. Afterall, any other person who launched two objects at him would be decapitated and dead at his musty booted feet. You were getting off easy by a mile in comparison. You didn’t even know how much Divine Intervention had spared you at this point.

So instead he untangled his thin legs from their half lotus position, swinging them off the edge of the bed as he observed you nervously wind your fingers through your hair — tugging slightly at the roots in vexation. The sight made him feel sympathy for you, a feeling that was nearly completely foreign to someone like him. It caused his dead stomach to knot and twist uncomfortably because he just wanted to lend you a helping hand. He just wasn’t sure how he could. School work wasn’t exactly his forte and all, being as he never acquired much of an education when he was a kid at the end of the last century. Nevertheless, he was your boyfriend and boyfriends had to take care of their girlfriends, right?

With a defeated sigh, Marko pressed his strong palms on his knees and found the sudden energy to get to his feet. His chunky boots clunked noisily on the ground, an incessant irritance to you. It made your body visibly cringe in your chair with each step he took. It was as though he was dropping bricks of led onto the ground. Your boyfriend, lost in his own deep thoughts, remained oblivious, wandering aimlessly to your bookshelf in search of something to cure his doldrum. The shelves were coated in a peculiar thin layer of dust, a dead giveaway that you had not kept this space to its usual tidiness. His inquisitive fingers collected the fluffy debris similar to dust bunnies on the tips before swiftly rubbing them together, which disintegrated his fuzzy pals into mere nothingness.

‘Damn, when was the last time you cleaned this place?’ He thought. It wasn’t like you to just allow things to collect dust. At this rate, you’d end up having your own personal Cave that Marko didn’t want a hand in helping you clean.

His pesky touch ventured along, dancing across the spines of old tattered novels aged well with love. Reading wasn’t really his style, but he supposed he didn’t mind it when he’d lounge in your lap like a cat, bathing in the stark silver moonlight whilst you read ‘The Outsiders’ to him late into the night. The accents you pulled off were enjoyable, a husky hushed twang so your parents wouldn’t hear. You always did a spanking job at Matt Dillons’ Dallas Winston. He couldn’t help but snort at the times you’d tear up during said character’s devastating death. It had alarmed Marko the first time it had happened. Now he only ever teased you about it, equipped with the ability to wipe your tears away and give you a moment to settle before continuing. He enjoyed those memories a lot.

Marko’s marvellously silver tongue clicked in his mouth liberally to an unordinary beat he’d plucked out of thin air from many moons ago. It did nothing but sourly distract you from your work. Your body tense once more, knee jerking in a wild bouncing fashion, knocking the underside of your desk in time with his clacking tune. You chewed your pencil menacingly, the brittle wood splintering slightly in your mouth. It made astounding practice for future inevitable victims. Perhaps the School Board would be your first ones.

Still, the more you travelled down the mental highway, you felt nothing but guilt at the thought of kicking Marko out. Recalled his disheartened countenance that struck his handsome features at the mere inkling of casting him out into the bewitched humid night.

Just when you thought you’d lost your mind enough, Marko flicked the power switch of your radio as if on purpose. The speakers screamed to life, blaring out the belting introduction of You Give Love a Bad Name by Bon Jovi. The precipitous noisy intrusion throttled into the air, shocking your eardrums. It scared the living daylights out of you for the second time that night! Marko’s mouth spread into a harmless grin, mouthing the lyrics with the utmost enthusiasm; his hands scrambling to his abdomen to begin shredding on the gnarliest air guitar he could muster. His head and body hopped comfortably along to the hypnotic drum beat and flourishing bass, floating up on a mouthwatering guitar riff and husky vocals to die for. Edgy.

As if possessed by a formidable spirit, you whipped around in your seat, eyes wild with offence. All of the equations behind you were now abandoned. You were giving Marko the look that could surely kill even an immortal. He seemed to be on another planet, too deep in the rock n’ roll blaring boisterously from your speakers to take note of your inconvenience.

Prompted by a supernatural sixth sense, the curly blond turned to look at you — an honest inquiry over whether his air guitar appeared better than Paul’s ready on the tongue. It’s life, a premature one, slid back down his throat and into his voice box. Realisation hit him when the usual mischief in his facial expression fled his countenance entirely. He mimicked that of a child being told off by its raging mother.

“Oops!” His lips mouthed, turning off the radio instantly.

The stark silence built thickly in the air, only allowing the remaining orchestra of cicada’s outside to be heard. Your heart was pounding in your chest, that vein in your forehead bulging with every beat of your galloping heart.

“Sorry babe.” He stated sheepishly, hands held up in surrender by his head.

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” You gritted out twice, more for your benefit the second time around.

As if to solidify a semblance of being non-combative, you held your hands up on either side of your head. A silent plea for Marko to cooperate with your simple boundaries.

Perhaps he wasn’t entirely sorry about it, but that didn’t matter if you didn’t know it. Though with the way you tried not to glower at him, he understood, without a doubt, that you were more than aware he was only half apologetic. After all, he was fuelled by a thick smog of boredom, which only forced unease to burst from him like the flames of Hell. Nevertheless, he watched you with his widened gaze before settling on your bed once more. A couple more hours wouldn’t kill him, right?

“Just don’t touch anything, okay? As soon as I get through the rest of this chapter, maybe we can watch a movie together.” You suggested through gritted teeth.

An inkling of hope dawned across Marko’s features like The Gates of Heaven had opened for him. It felt like the sun was warming his ice cold flesh, the fuzzy memory from his mortal life in 1901 came to fruition in his mind. Refreshing to say the least. His back inched higher, attempting to obtain a good look at your bulky textbook.

“How much ya got left?”

You hummed, pondering whilst your stiff aching fingers thumbed the pages. It was an entire wad. Marko’s heart rocketed into the old floorboards under his feet, and he hung his head in existential dread. You wouldn’t even be finished by sun up.

“About half a chapter,” you commented with hope, but to him it was all a charlatan’s sham.

“Yeah, yeah okay…” he mumbled, cast to the cushiony abode of your bed.

The ambience of the room settled back to the mind numbing pace of planned study sessions. His only two forms of escape were to either cast himself into a premature sleep or leave without you noticing. Both were tempting. Nevertheless, he remained there, paralysed with indecision.

Soon misery encased him, your plush bed and messy surroundings incapable of quenching his need for attention. A sour trance gathered deep within his undead soul. Blasé eyes analysed the way that you seemed to slightly settle in your seat. The scratching of pencil on paper overcame the atmosphere like a thick infestation of utter disinterest. Though he wasn’t alluded by the fact your muscles were still taut underneath your baggy black shirt and baby blue pyjama shorts. The sight made him pity you once more, because you were slaving away.

Suddenly a nagging urge told him to just burn all of your textbooks so he could have his damn girlfriend back!

From his stance on the bed, he noted that complex algebra was what you were studying: The sight made his stomach twist sickly and his head throb, because with Paul rotting his brain ninety percent of the time, Marko couldn’t even recall what 2+2 equaled.

Eventually his patience wore thin.

“Babe, how long have you been studying?” He finally broke the long silence. A casual air to his tone.

Marko rested his elbows upon his knees with a hunched back once he sat up; unconsciously mirroring you. Fixated on your entire being. It was almost humorous the way you seemed to sink further into your stressful work with every equation you tortured yourself to complete. The inclination both distressed and astonished him. This wasn’t like you at all. In fact, he was willing to bet that you’d been switched out by a government clone provided by the CIA with the way you were acting. You despised math!

When was the last time you had taken a damn break? When was this ever going to end? Were you ever not going to throw ginger stuffed cats at him? God forbid if he had to endure you worrying when your exams were all said and done. If you so much as breathed a damn fear towards the notion of not passing, he was going to lose his damn mind.

It was almost nearing the mark of an entire month since you’d made your typical appearance at the Boardwalk. An unusual occurrence in itself. It had worried him to begin with, especially since it had occurred out of the blue. No notion communicated whatsoever of your educational predicament. Marko was usually rather patient with you, however, since he hadn’t ever exactly attended school himself (or graduated for that matter), he was honestly struggling to relate to the importance of it all. Good grades and whimsical desires to attend college didn’t hold the same meaning to him as it did to you. It frankly just sounded like a damn fairytale.

In fact, the whole ordeal just was a major waste of time to him. Afterall, he held the potent magic of immortality in the palms of his hands; brandished like the forbidden fruit that Adam himself consumed. There were sneaky tricks and enchanting gifts that he — along with every vampire — possessed. All that temptation didn’t seem to tickle your fancy in the current moment. Marko couldn’t deny the truth that if it (college) made you happy in the long run, he didn’t have the heart to cut in and stop you. He wanted you to be content at the end of the day. So long as you also cared about his happiness too. It didn’t really feel like you did — not with you pushing him away like he was some diseased fleabag.

“Uuuuhhmmmm shit,” you began with a flourishing fluster encapsulating your countenance. You used the end of your chewed up pencil to scratch the side of your head vigorously, “I dunno, three days?” You shrugged.

It sounded as if you were asking him for clarification, but Marko sat there just as clueless and waiting for your answer.

To be completely transparent, that was only a guesstimate thrown to the stuffy air with no refreshing breeze to carry it away from you. You were utterly fried; all for very different reasons. Meals consisted of take-out or quick instant snacks so the remnants could be discarded easily. You went from a daily shower to one every three days; dishes had been piled up so high in your sink, because you didn’t possess the luxury known as time: All until your mother lost her mind and dove in infuriatingly to maintain downstairs her spotless domain. Completing these simple tasks designed to keep your living quarters in order were overwhelming now.

Marko wasn’t the only one feeling the absence of your chipper presence. As just mentioned, your dutiful mother took up your chores to accomplish with disgruntled agitation, because she had limited time too. Yet no matter how much she may have resented you currently, she found some compassion for you in your final weeks as a senior highschool student. She took it with a badge of silence, but you felt that heavy churning of guilt in your gut whenever she would impulsively huff and puff through the thin walls, as well as slam cupboards shut. Nothing went unnoticed by you, but it drove you further into the disorganised abode of unrelenting chaos. You were just glad your parents were out on a weekend trip. Sweet silence was yours.

Escaping was all you wanted to do. Yet you were bound to your desk by a hefty chain around your ankle with the belief that if you failed, you’d have let everyone around you down. There was so much pressure riding on your back that it felt unbearably hot. Scalding tears burnt the corners of your eyes and you fought to wipe them away with two quick slaps to your cheeks.

Oh how you missed the Boardwalk desperately! Longing for the nights out with Marko where the oceanic droplets dotted your skin when you paraded down it on his metallic steed. They seemed so far away now, so out of touch that you could barely recall what it felt like to be nestled in the musty, dusty caverns where the boy’s home sat within. Those nights were always fun, riddled with a peculiar perception of time that made them feel as though they went on forever. Frankly, you missed him and his brothers. However, even though you did, you couldn’t afford to burn out. If you could just squeeze out a little more, then maybe you could manage to get through with a hair length left of energy and patience.

Like a precariously challenging puzzle, the pieces finally clicked into place in Marko’s nifty skull. A lightbulb dinged over his head, illuminating everything around him and he saw things with virgin eyes. Once that had occurred, the relief he experienced was knocked viciously out of the way and replaced by a worry that he never had felt before. You’d always been splendid at managing yourself in a healthy manner. Balancing and pacing yourself was a natural instinct you possessed, crafted into an art during the academic year. Marko had sat back comfortably up until this point, just taking it all for granted, because you’d always been so self-reliant.

Yet as he stared at you from across your bedroom intently, he began to take note of the little differences surrounding you both. The space was riddled with disorganisation as its main theme, messiness spread out in all of its glory. A large pile of dirty clothes lay in the left corner of your room, making him silently plead with the universe that your socks wouldn’t start crawling out towards him with a mind of their own. Your pink bed covers he was perched upon weren’t made in their usual neat style; that stupid desk you had yourself rooted in front of was clumped together in a marinade of dirty food containers, pens, pencils and papers. A giant teetering tower of jagged books to the right looked ominous and shaky to him. The trash can beside it was overflowing with a cornucopia of crumpled bits of paper that looked as if Jason himself had hacked at them with his own chainsaw! What in the hell was going on with you?

“You shouldn’t sweat the exams, babe.” Marko stated without much of a rational thought.

The gratuitous comment seemed to startle you to austere stillness. Similar to a cat who’d grown enraged, frightened as its fur and tail zapped with pulsing electricity. Your aura resembled the frizzy taut hairs of said feline friend; and your head whipped to the side so viciously that it struck a literal nerve, causing your vision to blur. Paying little mind to the agony of the nauseating feeling, you pressed on.

“What!?” You seethed through tightly gritted teeth. You were a festering beast. All the chipped pieces of fragile pottery you’d held together shattered. Patience was no longer your virtue.

Acting on impulse, Marko’s fingerless gloved hands sprang to the sides of his head once more, eyebrows raised. You really needed to chill out.

“Damn, hear me out!” He started, a little heat behind his words.

He was frankly pretty tired of the onslaught you shoved onto him. You were beginning to yank him into the depths of your own anguish. He never swung that way initially, but you were spoiling his night that had started off perfectly fine, thank you very much.

“All that I meant by that was you’re the smartest person I know, babe. You’ve passed everything so far. There’s no way you’re failin’ anything!” His words had intended to diffuse the bomb he’d set up from his previous comment.

Reassurance was what you needed right? Wrong. It only seemed to spread the shrapnel and vibrant inferno swirling violently within you. A snort dispelled,, forcing you to drop your pencil on your notebook. Disbelief rattled your expression, the fuse to a TNT’s detonator had been slammed down staunchly and rage encompassed you over the smallest of things.

“Yeah, like you know what it’s like to have all this pressure on your shoulders. You just bum around the Cave like you’re a damn king without a care in the world! The most you have to worry about is whether you get David the right kind of take-out when Michael’s lazing on the bed next to Star!”

The words were haughty, sturdy ammunition pelting Marko to a mushy pulp. The worst part was that you’d turned your back on him when you’d said it. Honing in on your unreasonable point. The world didn’t just revolve around you, you know.

There was a flicker of irritation that blossomed like a breathtakingly fiery rose in his chest. Hot electricity pulsed his eyes alight, though as soon as the burning rage had appeared, Marko settled it with a deep breath. Right, you were his girlfriend, he couldn’t kill you like some blundering drunk Surf Nazi. No matter how much of a raging bitch you were being right now.

A few minutes sauntered by, a tense silence stretching with its thick tendrils that imbedded themselves in your throat. Realisation hit you square in the chest and you dug the heels of your hands into your sore, closed eyes harshly at the thought of how stupid you were being.

“Shit! I’m so sorry.” There was a denseness to your tone, shame blanketing it like a sugar coated donut. If only it felt as sweet.

“Nah, don’t sweat it, babes!” Marko released with a heavy sigh, a passive manner taking over him. It wasn’t hard to do.

Afterall, the anger had been shaken out of every dead cell in his body. He lifted a cool hand, his fingers burying in his blond licks and pushing them out of his eyes, a simple motion that soothed him slightly.

“No, it’s not not!” You sighed out, tipping your head back in your wooden chair till it teetered a bit. You stared dreadfully up at the ceiling with bitter contempt. “I hate this! I hate all of this studying. If I look at one more number I’m gonna commit arson on the school so I don’t have to take my exam on Monday morning!”

“You know that can be arranged for you with the help of Paul and I? ” Marko grinned at you, the prospect of putting all this incessant studying to a grand halt really tickled his fancy; whether you were being serious or not.

“Not funny!”

“What? You wouldn’t be connected. Scouts honour, babes.”

Though from the expression you were giving him, Marko was certain that attempting to pull jokes with you so soon wasn’t in anyone’s best interests just yet. Not when you were wound up so tight. However there was the beginning of a smile working on the edges of your beautiful lips. It settled the tension a little.

“There’s my girl!” He replied proudly, patting his gloved hands on the thighs of his jeans habitually.

Suddenly another lightbulb moment zinged its fluorescent rays above his head. Jackpot! He knew exactly what you needed to relax. He did, afterall, have magical hands that were perfect for massaging. A little TLC and you’d be well oiled enough to snuggle with him as you both watched a movie. Just a little loving was all he wanted — he missed you.

Like a golden sleek mountain lion with prey locked in its predatory gaze, Marko crept stealthily towards you on surprisingly light feet with his paws out. Ready for the kill. Those icy digits were immediately welcomed by your clammy hot skin, and your affliction seemed to melt away in the heat of the humid air. This was precisely the reaction Marko had imagined in his wondrously gruesome noggin.

To begin with, you seemed tense at the idea of his touch gone foreign from the lack of his familiar presence. Frustration mixed with guilt at your own pitiful past actions as a girlfriend. The stress was making you crack on so many levels. His touch was comforting despite the fact your shoulders made a subtle attempt at shaking him off. Yet he had a firm hold on you — certainly not enough to cause harm. What didn’t he understand about this entire ordeal? This was extremely important to you. His candid words rung in your ears, a gong gone off to begin the journey of relaxation and release of pent up frustrations.

“You gotta take a break. Even just for five minutes.” He echoed your already persuaded thoughts. A wispy coo, hypnotic in nature.

You were incapable of resistance to his powerful abilities he reserved specifically for times such as these. Sure he wasn’t David, but Marko knew how to pull someone as stubborn as you into his lane, wrestling them into a relaxed submission of chill time. Damn him and his undead powers!

His fingers were possessed by black magic — working at the sore, aching muscles that had become strained by impeccably poor posture and a lack of necessary exercise. You lacked both the hefty bark and bite to fight him, it had disappeared with the energy and motivation to engage in anyone or anything other than what was currently going on in the present moment. Temptation wanted you to reap the rewards of Marko’s skilful ministrations. You swiftly ushered into the realm of utter selfishness, leaning into his touch wantonly the moment his pesky long appendages massaged down your shoulders in a taut yet tender fashion. A wince escaped your lips once he worked on a specific knot. You stirred and twitched in the seat like it had become unbearably hot.

With your face bunched up, a moan entailing slight anguish fluttered past your lips, Marko eased up on said spot, focusing on another area.

“Atta girl,” He grinned, “Relax…” an angelic whisper crept into your ear.

He sounded hypnotic, binding you under his blissful spell of ease. Though it was that specific spot in your sore muscles that caused you irritation. Marko left it happily because he’d worked the majority of it out. Now his long, thin fingers padded at the balls of your shoulders, solace in nature before returning up the valley of your neck for the second time. He simpered subconsciously to himself in a victorious fashion the moment you went completely lax under his touch. A pleasurable surrender to his beck and call. Your arms went limp, resembling the feeling and look of overcooked spaghetti. The rear of the chair and Marko’s light, yet secure grip on you were the only two things that kept you upright. There was an immature smugness to his motions that you could practically feel engraved into you.

“You like that?” There was audacity for him to whisper it against the soft shell of your ear. Such a seductive note.

Your response came to him through another throaty groan of approval and a swift, gentle nod of your head. So subtle that for a moment, he wondered if he’d dreamt up the consensual physical action entirely.

Mischief purchased him, a long lost friend. Sharp teeth nicked the delicate flesh of your earlobe, mouth finding a mind of their own to trail down the side of your neck. The feverish pulsepoint he’d grown to know well was peppered in an onslaught — each kiss and nip purposeful. Melting like the ice caps into his touch, the Devil suddenly pulled away after taking a step back. Your back was held up by the chair entirely. A pout formed your precious mouth, head tilted towards him. Your half hooded eyes unveiled a cheeky sight indeed: He was smirking with that Cheshire grin he was so renowned for. Not to mention that he’d propped himself like royalty on the edge of the bed, his head cocked to the side in amusement.

“What? You want more?” An arrogance wafted from him, sent on the hot summer breeze.

He knew you were hooked by the way you turned in your chair to finally acknowledge him fully. “Then c’mere.” He said simply, patting his lap.

Rising from your chair was methodical. Lots of attention had to be put into moving your stiff limbs almost gone numb from being in the same position for god knows how long. Yet you padded over to your awaiting throne, straddling his waist boldly. Hands floated to your hips, squeezing them longingly, and as if bound under his hypnotic spell from earlier, you found his lips in a mixture of rushed passion and want. Marko was cool, hanging back and letting you explore the excitement you’d been starving for for weeks. He was just happy to go along for the ride, seeing where it took you both. This wasn’t so much about him as it was about you.

Your tongue intruded his mouth, a sudden willingness to become as close to him as physically possible. He beckoned beneath you, chest tightening with the giddiness that felt oh so good to experience. Teeth nipped at your lower lip, a yearning to eventually get at the crimson liquid buried beneath your thin, delicate skin was intricate but controlled. Taunting and malicious hands wandered, pushing beneath fabric to clutch at the supple flesh of your breasts. You pulled apart for a breath, a gasp of alluring surprise fluttering from your mouth. Marko chuckled against the flesh of your delicate throat — not missing the sultry glow having engulfed you. It now permeated towards him. Frustration could be played out in more than one way, which he was happy to do.

The black tee you’d been sporting came over your head in a single tug, cast to the floor with his mix-matched jacket and crop top. He admired the rise and fall of your bare breasts, highlighted in the moonlight — embarrassing you in the way he deemed was the cutest. Yet he made no move towards influencing your next moves. Instead the icy tips of his fingers tickled up your sides, ghosted along your spine to entice goosebumps. Your gaze settled on his beautiful flesh , fair and adorned with muscles beneath his strong skin. He made your mouth water, the washboard abs and the strength that came from him in more than just the physical aspect set you on fire. Your staring amused him. Were you still too shy to touch despite this having happened in times gone by? He was all yours. There was no need for meaningless delays. The inevitable was bound to occur. You might as well just meet him in the middle.

Your warm fingertips settled upon his sturdy chest whilst you mounted him. A delicious expression of your needs being met flashed across your angelic features, but your lips twisted into such a devilish smirk. Some would title you as a promiscuous nymph, tantalisingly rocking your hips back and forth — creating much needed friction. Marko’s fingers smoothed up your sides, his own breath flustered out of his lungs. Yet he just watched you, hazel eyes deepening from the dilation of his pupils. A hunter was being fed under your seductive spell. Such a horny, pretty thing you were, rutting against him like a desperate bitch in heat. It caused amusement to tickle his senses, because he knew this wouldn’t suffice enough of your needs. Witnessed it dawn frustratingly upon your countenance. You needed more. You wanted more.

“Atta girl.” He winked, grinning impishly up at you. A seductive golden halo flowed from his head as he laid there admiring you.

Before long, his patience wore thin. His back arched upwards then, lips trailing along the swell of your sensitive breasts. They glistened deliciously with sweat in the moonlight, inviting his tongue to taste the salty liquid. You sighed, hips faltering, thwarting your efforts to get off. A pathetic whimper of dissatisfaction escaped you, rumbling in your chest. He felt it against his sinful tongue, sucking sweet little marks into your skin. And silently, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts and panties, tugging down gently. You manuevred yourself over him, eager to get any remaining clothes off and have him take control. You never knew what to expect with him, which was all the more exciting. Yet all he did was clasp his lips around your right nipple, suckling on it firmly, though not enough to hurt. His teeth nipped at it, tugging ever so slightly in the way you always approved — all whilst he stared up at you. Man was he a tease.

As soon as it had started, the pleasure ceased. Gone in the blink of an eye. You stared down at your boyfriend, your hips twirling in rebellion. Already you were quivering, at his mercy whilst your fingers tangled in his beautifully curly locks.

“What?” He inquired with an innocent tilt to his head.

Distinct symptoms of embarrassment clouded your features — your skin felt hot. The only thing you could do was nip your swollen bottom lip and draw your eyebrows together in the centre. So cute. Why was he doing this? It was simple, he wanted to.

“Hmmm? Use your big girl words, baby.” He added with a breathy laugh meant to mock you. His large palms smoothed against the softest parts of your body reassuringly.

You gulped, throat dry and hoarse. Your hips rutted on his hardened cock concealed beneath the rough denim. It’s roughness dampened by your sopping cunt. You whimpered as he guided your hips, looking hungrier than ever. Silently pleading for him to touch you the way you loved it the most. However, he did not play into these silent games. You knew that, but it was always worth a try. Sometimes he was forgiving and lenient. Tonight he seemed to be holding back, admiring your handiwork until you begged him with delirium to give you what you wanted.

“I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me. Hmm?” He cooed up at you.

“I want more,” you began pitifully, eyes unable to meet his heavy gaze.

“More of what?” He was milking this, enjoying the way you twitched.

“More of you.” As if that could answer his blatantly insistent inquiry. Yet before he could open his mouth to prod further, you’d beaten him to the punch, “I want your mouth.”

A diabolical sexy grin spread across his face. Sharp pearly whites glinted in the argent glow menacingly, but only for show. To intimidate you into the correct position. The air in your lungs caught in your throat at the sight, forcing you to shiver. He was going to force you into helplessness with your limbs unable to hold you up afterwards, all accompanied with a mushy mind with him at the centre of it. Duties and resilient responsibilities were a thing of the past. Well, at least for tonight. What you were asking him for was something he was more than qualified to provide. A god-like tongue that made your head spin in a volatile tornado and your thighs squeeze deliciously around his head. The thought began thawing out the embarrassment coiled in your gut and latched into your flesh like barbed coils. Marko managed to pull them out effortlessly and painlessly. Thus, fueled by a fire in his own belly, he flipped you over at the flick of a finger. The cool sheets beneath you were welcomed because of the clammy air. The wind momentarily knocked out of you due to a lustre of giddiness. You laid there, breathless and bothered, watching him slither down your body like a ravenous serpent. Attentive nips and open mouthed kisses pressed along the way. You sighed with contentment, legs parting to fit him between them.

Gazes locked, he pressed your legs up towards your chest, spreading you open for him. There was little you could do to hide from him. His strong palms prevented such a shameful sin, the tips of his blunt nails digging into the supple backs of your thighs. The sting welcomed by you. Vulnerability was nowhere to be found — not even in your fuzzy brain. He liked it better that way. You were entirely enthralled by impulses and senses. The events of earlier ancient history he didn’t want to revisit any time soon. Wanton desire encompassed you. He’d incinerated all feelings of abashment from your being. You were tainted with a bold desperation. A one track mind that only Marko could read and satisfy.

“Just relax…” He breathed against the tender skin of your inner thigh. You could entrust him with this.

When he dove in, he had the enthusiasm of a starved man. The tip of his wet flickering appendage swiped your folds. Once, twice and a third time. On and on it went. The taste of you was salty yet sweet, the perfect addictive combination. You were perfect underneath him, letting his pretty gratified tongue serve blessings upon your clit. Faster and faster he adored you, suckling and nipping upon your sensitive bundle of nerves at the right intervals. It was all so perfect. Driving you further and further up the edge. You squealed under his onslaught, chest rising and falling as if possessed. Your limbs shook, eyes rolling into the rear of your frazzled skull. Yeah, you’d finally escaped. All of your inconsequential concerns fled from your body whilst you pushed Marko further into your sex. It was pathetic as you wantonly moaned his name, a repetitive mantra. So pitiful in fact that your hips rocked against his tongue, the tip of his nose catching your clit. Marko was just happy to drown in you. Your sticky essence dripping down his chin. All he could do was lap up what you offered, and none of it went to waste.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuck!” You heaved into the clammy air, your eyes bleary by now.

Just one more stripe and he was going to ruin you.

You tumbled from heaven, rocketing down to Earth. Your descent imploring delirium. The ability to quit shaking was nowhere to be found. There was Marko, parting from your folds in a sticky and panting mess. His predator instincts lit aflame like a match in the dark, all because of your erratic heartbeat that had been palpitating under his skillful onslaught. You smelled so superbly delicious it made him delirious, rough hands settled on either side of your head to trap you in the cage he put you in. His glowing yellow eyes and slightly warbled features should have terrified you, yet they did not. You felt a love for the monster that mirrored your feelings in his own, demonic entirety. Your fingers were lazy, ghosting the tips upon his protruded brow bone. Despite his monstrosity, his features morphed back to that of a human’s with your enduring patience. A glow remaining in his perky eyes — an ardent aura surrounded the beast. Calloused fingers smoothed away the stray hairs to your face uncomfortably with sweat. Couldn’t stop the grin that came about from you looking so lost in your thoughts. You were fucked out already and he’d barely even begun. He decided then that he could’ve stared at you like this forever, because not a thought outside of him remained in your head. That’s what he appreciated the most. No competitions, just you and him. That’s all that was yearned for.

Lips crashed together, though your fight for dominance was easily overthrown by Marko, his pesky fingers pinching and pulling on your nipples. He rolled them between his fingers. A surge of gratitude took over you, hummed right into his mouth. Teeth gnashed together, it was heated, fueled by an endless amount of passion. Oh you were driving him crazy. Your hands fiercely clutched onto his strong shoulders, nails digging into the soft cool flesh of them. You were lost fully in the reality of ecstasy. Disoriented from the notion that once you started, you didn’t want it to stop. He was the incubus that tainted you, and he too could not stop himself from damning you once again. He’d yank you straight into hell with him. You were all his.

So his palms were strong, scrunching up the bedsheets beside your head, catching the strands of your hair within its hold. It stung, leading a pleasant hiss from you and into his mouth. Your own fingers pinging the button of his jeans before dipping into the waistband of his boxers. His lips broke apart, teeth nipping your bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood. Yes, you were a promiscuous nymph, working him further and further until precum leaked languidly from the tip, trickling and spilling onto your knuckles. The impish smirk you gave him sealed the deal.

“Not yet,” he whispered against your ear, a breathy chuckle expelled when you continued. “This is about you, baby. I can’t do that if I’ve busted all over you.” He grinned.

He did have a fair point. Off the remainder of his clothes went. Now no barriers remain between the pair of you. Naked and vulnerable in an iridescent glow from the moon.

In typical fashion of your boyfriend, he possessed an impatient roughness to him. A single hand manoeuvred your legs apart, one hiked upon his awaiting forearm and the other snug around his hip. In one swell tug down, you were spread open for him, the tip of his glistening cock pressed into your soaked folds. The minimal friction had invited your hips to buck up rebelliously. Yet the beast watched you with heavy eyes, watching the mouthwatering way he sunk barely into your cute little hole. It was enough for his senses to snap entirely. The second he pushed in fully, a grunt tumbled out and against the shell of your ear. The size of him filled you up in a way that you never thought was imaginable. The intrusion was sudden but smooth, forcing you to whimper and tuck your face into his shoulder. Your legs twitched, tensed whilst your palms instinctively reached out to press themselves against his lower abdomen. You protested, softly pushing back and he obliged, but only to sink back in slowly.

Yet a sweetness prevailed, his mouth whispering encouragingly into your ear, “That’s it, babygirl. You take me so good.”

The praise led to your hands smoothing up his rippled abdomen, appreciating the body that belonged to a Greek God. Closer he leaned into you, your body relaxing from the sudden intrusion he’d worked in and out of you with a gentle rocking of his hips. All of it pulled that wolfish simper from your breathless boyfriend. Your hips had a mind of their own, twitching to meet his abundantly stuttering hips in the middle. A dull ache blossomed and pulsed in your hot cunt. You wanted him so badly that it hurt. He pined for you just as violently, enough to pull back swiftly and snap his hips roughly into you. Any semblance of patience eradicated at the weathering fray in the string, crashing over into a dominant nature he was renowned for. You were all too obedient and joyous to follow. The intrusion into your cervix was unexpected, drawing out a wanton cry from your parched throat. His movements were deliberate, gaze darkening substantially in the shade of luscious ecstasy. Every cell in both of your bodies bursting to life whilst Marko did all of the work.

“M-Marko!” You stammered and gasped. Nothing but a pathetic whimper against the edge of his mouth.

Your foreheads were pressed together lovingly, hazel eyes finding your watery gaze easily. Tears pricked the corners. The pleasure curling you into his body.

At this rate, if he kept up his onslaught of devotion, you’d be a mess all over again; shuddering and sighing underneath him in a pitiful fashion. It was his favourite. Watching you crumble under everything he offered you, and by god would he offer you absolutely everything. The mere thought tempting him into overdrive with his impeccable stamina and strength. You could hardly keep up.

Yet with all of his rough ministrations and hungry motivations, there was a loving twitch to his lips — an extra devotion in the roll and smack each thrust brought. The tip of him hammering home on the delicate spot inside of you. Witnessing what each pull and push built up inside of you. It was perfect, feeling you cream all over him thickly. Your perfect moans and hazy eyes only made him love you more.

The only response you’d acquired was a grunt gritted between clenched teeth and panting breaths. His calloused digits feathered into your hair, gathering it into his fist. Nothing about him relented. He could tell by your half lidded eyes that you were nearly there. Expression consumed by an ample amount of bliss. It seeped into the air, boasting an array of vibrant hormones and scents. You were bewitching him with your morality, your head toppling back when he tugged on your hair firmly. The notion only forced him to grow more sporadic. Your content mewls of mercy morphing into the sweaty, salty air. His cool skin warmed by yours alone. Yet deep inside, even you knew that you didn’t possess a desire for him to stop. You wanted this. Wanted it more than you had any other time, because you’d stupidly starved yourself of most of your needs.

Toppling over the edge didn’t seem too far away. You could feel every inch of yourself under the mercy of your painfully vampiric boyfriend. He nurtured you into a quaking mess with his ragged edges, but it was all so utterly perfect. Your throbbing heart thrummed against your rib cage painfully, warping Marko’s features for a second time that night. Though it remained hidden within the cosy crook of your beautiful neck. Each pounding beat synching with his sinful thrusts until everything felt like a hot and heavy blur. Higher and higher you went, rising into cloud nine. He followed behind you, your scent driving him to weakness. He was dizzy, fingers grappling upon your flesh; grasping what he could to both pleasure you and steady himself. Your hands held onto his shoulders, fingers slithering up into his damp curly mullet. Over and over he went, but you held on.

“Let go, babygirl…” he whispered in a strained husky fashion against your sweaty skin.

His elongated teeth grazed the palpitating vein of your sweet spot. They glinted threateningly unbeknownst to you.

A temptation too reckless overcame him. The ruby rushing rivers beneath the surface of fragile skin spoke to him. Sung seductively into his soulless chest. It’s sweet nectar coaxed him in until said sharp teeth grazed a little too harshly. One drop was enough for his tongue to burst to life. Inducing him to suck on the wound. A harsher one warranted more blood to ooze out, and thus you yelped in protest. Though now too delirious to feel much else than the driving force that brought you literally on the edge of your second orgasm of the night. He could barely stop himself, the edge pulling his hips more violently into that back and forth motion — just as harsh but clouded with sloppiness. All until you both spilled over the edge of the cup.

It was a viral shock, numbing your body into intense bliss. A chorus of heightened groans poured from your mouth. Quaking limbs wrapped around his rocking body, pushing his spilled seed further into your womb. A long, husky groan buried itself into your neck — forcing his brief blood drinking to come to a halt. A heavy ’o’ shape formed your lips, throat hoarse from your incessant whimpers. The crash back down to hell was something in itself. Just as intense whilst you both hurtled, twitched and panted down in the fiery centre of the earth. Both of you left joined together from sensitivity. Gazes locked together with a dopey satisfaction. You watched his mischievous grin on his features, gone slightly pink from your blood. Your boyfriend was high on your blood — no doubt because it felt akin to taking a hit of crack. Yet you remained jelly legged, arms unable to move and your mind fuzzy. You were relaxed as he pulled out, admiring his seed trickling from you before he prized his clean crop top from your floor to clean you up.

“You… bit me,” you pouted up at him.

Your own pair of heavy fingertips inspected the small, messy series of puncture wounds engraved into your neck. A form of marking Marko was infamous for implementing. It stung so you winced.

“My bad.” Was all he grinned out in a lopsided fashion.

But it wasn’t an apology. He’d never apologised for such an act — not even in his controlled feeding on you. You were his and he was yours. Maybe he was a little too possessive. Nevermind, because the post orgasm glow only invited him in on shaky forearms. The tip of his nose skimmed your collarbone, inhaling your luxurious scent. His tongue poked out, lapping up the rich droplets you offered him of no fault of your own. It tasted sweet, yet decadent, almost like spiced mulled wine. The coolness of his appendage felt relieving against the hotness of your skin.

“Thank you,” you mumbled sleepily, fingernails softly dragging against his scalp to hone in on the appreciation that swarmed you.

Your gratitude was humorous. It made him chuckle as he pulled back, towering over your fully relaxed body. He tilted his head, “For fucking your brains out?”

“Mhmmmm!” You nodded, adamant.

More laughter propelled from his mouth, because Marko was not quite sure how else to respond. You’d never thanked him for such a thing before, and it was a warrant for teasing that’s for sure. Still, it made his still heart swell a thousand times in size, mimicking the distant feeling of a pulse of his heart. His silent lips pressed ardent kisses to the wound on your neck, running his tongue over the wound only to watch it magically heal somewhat. Then his mouth travelled to your ear, just to hear your soft giggle in time, sleepily stirring beneath him.

“I love you, baby.” A smile evident against the shell of your ear.

“Love you too…” you sighed with your own mirrored grin, all dopey from exhaustion.

The tug of sleep won and you plummeted into the blackness your closed eyelids entailed. It was a warm welcome after weeks of choppy and restless sleep from rampant anxiety. Marko laid there beside you, his fingers hovering over your tired muscles to clean you up and smooth ardent circles into sore patches of skin from his rough handling. An arm of his draped underneath your head as you silently curled into him. Your relaxed breaths tickled the nape of his dewy neck. The dilemma was averted and now he had you back. A few hours was all he could spare before he’d be forced to bid you farewell. The need for the dank darkness of the cave would call to him before sunrise. Yet for now he admired your tranquility with a laboured inhale and exhale. He pulled the covers over you both, hoping that your relaxation would remain until the following night. He’d sweep you away from your work and into the exhilarating arms of a good time. Thundering down the Boardwalk and harbour, perched on the back of his metallic steed. The pair of you damned, left to unleash your sly delightful terror upon Santa Carla. Yes, your absence had been so missed by your boyfriend as he stared up at your ceiling with satisfaction.

“Crisis averted.”

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 　　 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

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#marko #marko imagines #marko headcanons #marko smut #marko x reader #the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys 1987 imagines #the lost boys 1987 headcanons #the lost boys 1987 x reader #the lost boys 1987 smut #the lost boys 1987 marko #the lost boys 1987 marko imagines #the lost boys 1987 marko headcanons #the lost boys 1987 marko x reader #the lost boys 1987 marko smut #hope you enjoyed it <333

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multiplicity-positivity · 20 days

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Hopefully it's alright if I rant about something here, just want to get stuff off my chest and hopefully let others with similar experiences know they're not alone.

I thought of a really good analogy to describe my specific experience with being plural recently. I imagine the original personality, the core, whatever you want to call her, as a sheet of glass. The childhood trauma she experienced then translates to a punch to that glass. I see me, the host, as the biggest shard that resulted from that. I am not a whole being, and I don't believe the system members are either. They're all just slightly smaller shards.

I believe that some shards were so small that they fell off after the initial punch. I believe that, even if we're all glued together, we still won't be a whole person. But I also have reason to believe that one day we could fill in those gaps if we choose to. Taking up hobbies, making friends, doing things humans do that make them human (even though only one of us is human and even then his humanity is debatable. You get my idea though.)

Seeing my experience with not being alone in this head of ours in the lens of this analogy has helped me a lot. It reminds me that being plural can manifest in vastly different ways. Having a better understanding of how we function somehow makes me feel more whole.

Hi! Thank you for sharing your experience here, we love hearing other systems’ understandings of themselves and their disorders!

Your analogy really reminded us of the children’s book The Patchwork Quilt by J.D. Clark. It uses a blanket analogy rather than glass, but we think that these two analogies are thematically quite similar!

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Again, thank you for sharing this! We hope y’all can find a future of healing and recovery, whatever that looks like for your system. Wishing you all the best!

#trauma #plural experience #plural analogies

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simp4strongwomen · 1 year

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You’re in my Seat.

Y’all this is my first fic, pls go easy on it it’s my baby. I literally fell in love with Becky Lynch so quickly and I’m constantly on her X reader tab just to find new stuff so I thought ide try my hand at writing. The bold is the dialogue prompt I found. All credit goes to the owner, though I’m not sure who it is because I found the prompt in a random google doc and thought ide use it. So if you know who owns it pls tag them. Lots of Love.

Becky Lynch x Reader “What's that look for?” Becky Lynch looked up at you, after seeing your shadow block out the light.

“...You’re in my seat.” You replied, slightly scared of the fiery wrestler.

“Well I’m not moving, so either stop being a little bitch about it, and get another seat, or sit in my lap.” The red headed Irish woman took you by shock with her reply.

You have had a crush on the champion for quite some time. Actually ever since you joined the professional wrestling world three years ago. Once you had finally moved up to Raw, you tried your hardest to be friends with her, the only conversations you would have with The Man would always end up in her flirting and you flustered. You never thought that she would ever reciprocate the feelings you have for her. But maybe she did, but who are you kidding? That was just her personality, there is no way she would like you. Not when she is the Women's Champion, and you’re just a newer, younger, protogé. Little did you know though, that she enjoys the conversations you both have, and notices the effect she has on you. You have been the reason for some of her sleepless nights, just wondering what life with you could possibly be like. She enjoyed your nature and the aura that surrounds you, likening how it’s so different from her commanding fiery spirit.

“What?!” And once again, Lynch has been able to cast you flustered with one simple sentence.

Becky, not wasting any time, responds so coolly, yet panicking on the inside. “You heard me. I don’t care what you chose, but hurry it up, we don’t have all day.” At that point in time you're pretty sure your heart just pushed your brain out of the way, all thoughts about what could possibly happen in the future with this decision. Yet you pushed away all the negative and focused on the positive that came along, when you sat down on her lap.

Becky was in shock, she didn’t expect you to actually go through with that choice. Reeling her head back in shock she asks you one question,” You comfortable lass?”

You, just deciding that whatever happens from here on out happens, so fuck it. “Quite actually. I think I should sit here more often. Though I think some people here might get a little jealous.” Wrapping one arm around her shoulder and messing with a strand of her curly orange hair, you busy yourself with looking anywhere but in her brown eyes.

“Oh well, that’s their loss they ain’t it. A pretty girl like you should just be sitting on anybody's lap, not unless they deserve it.” Her hand reaches around you back to squeeze your waist, watching the affect her touch has on you.

Finally looking into her deep brown eyes, you bite back,” Oh and you think you deserve it?” Messing around with the necklace around her neck helps your fidgeting calm down so you could hopefully keep up your badass attitude.

“Oh yeah I deserve it. You know why?” Shaking your head no at her question, you shiver when her free hand comes up to rest on your cheek. Becky pulls your face close to hers, you can smell her minty breath, her mouth just a couple inches away from yours. “Because I can get you to throw all cares out the window, and because we both know that we’re the only ones with our eyes set on each other.”

“So what you're saying is that we’re destined?” You both slowly get closer to each other, that is until The Man finally pulls you into her for a deep kiss. A kiss filled with all the words left unspoken between each other. Finally breaking apart after the need for oxygen became a necessity Becky spoke in a whisper as you two weren’t that far away, your lips still brushing when either one speaks.

“What I’m saying is that you and I are going to go on a date, after our matches are over, and not only that, but I’m going to be redoing our first kiss, because as much as I love the whole kissing you while you sit on my lap thing, we can save that for another time,” she smirked at the blush that crept up your face,” because you deserve the perfect night, with the perfect first kiss.” Sitting in silence for a few minutes thankful that one has walked past, or became witness to the very intimate moment.

That silence was broken when you spoke up,” So you’re telling me that you like me? Like actually like me.”

“Yes I actually like you, might I dare even say I love you.”

#simpforstrongwomen #becky lynch x reader #becky Lynch #Becky Lynch WWE #women of wwe #wweuniverse #wwe imagine #becky lynch imagine

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littleshadowlucy · 2 months

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@voidbeau got it right, the inspiration for my last drawing of Argos was Possibly in Michigan! So they get a gold star ⭐️

More specifically this shot of it ⬇️

And because I am very happy with how it turned out, I wanted to talk about my art thoughts this time! :D

A little fact about when it comes to my artwork is that I draw it traditionally first before making it digital since it’s just easier for me, which means that these drawings can be in the making depending on my schedule and motivation, and this one took a while since I recently got a new job!

And while I was drawing this one I decided to go against having the flowers scattered around Argos since unfortunately flowers aren’t my strong suit and I didn’t want to repeatedly draw a single type of flower since I wouldn’t know what flower to choose so instead I decided to have Argos laying a flowerbed with things related to the series around him-

Now there are two obvious exceptions-

That being the barts spells and charms advertisement and the top left corner, so I’m going to explain why they’re there.

The flower in the top left corner is suppose to be a tuberose, though it’s probably not obvious since again, flowers aren’t my strong suit, the reason why it’s there is that apparently tuberoses can symbolize attraction, lust, and obsession for someone else, or the very least illicit and dangerous pleasures, and I thought it would perfect thing to add considering Mr. Plant and Argos’s relationship especially with the knife and letter we saw in Gardening with Argos 10 also scattered around!

While Bart’s spells and charms were added since Argos canonical has a shrine for Mr. Plant where he did manifestation to get Mr. Plant to think of him/want him and considering the fact that it’s hinted that they have other charms, I feel like Argos would have been the type of person to buy up their love charms if they have any and if he had access to it! Another fun fact, it was originally going to be an advertisement for Secret Admirer Mail since I fully believe that Argos was on the other end of the phone calls in that but decided to leave that idea for its own drawing in the future:)

Now Argos is holding three things, these being a photo of Mr Plant, a rose with noticeable thorns and the heart shop guy’s face

The rose is probably the easiest to explain since roses are the flower for romance, but I decided to make the thorns fairly noticeable to get the pain and pleasure symbolism, as well as every rose has its thorns symbolism, paired with a picture of Mr. Plant, it makes it obvious who those feelings are directed to

And I had Argos holding the head near his heart for the same reason, holding something close to your heart means that someone or something is very important to you, and I believe that it’s Argos’s most prized possession since when Mr Plant gave it to him, he realized that his feelings were returned and that’s when he and Mr Plant started dating

The soulmate flowers are there cuz when you think about it, it could honestly symbolize Plargos, atleast when looking at it with Argos in mind, Argos says that a soulmate flower would die if they don’t connect with another flower, and who was suppose to die in the series until their relationship came to save them? :)

the covetous flower is there since they just like Argos fr, atleast when it comes to Mr Plant, both of them are lovely to talk and they get attached and jealous fairly easily, I mean we never did see what the letter Mr Flower sent said 👀

Lastly the hearts around Argos are suppose to be the ones he got from the heart flower that he gives to Mr Plant, a continuous show of his love for him ❤️

Overall this was a fun art to draw and hopefully I can make more of these for y’all in the future, it feels my heart with such joy when people are enjoying my art, and it’s been such a godsend for my mental health

#twomp #the world of mr plant #ashur gharavi #art explanation #I really do love being in fandom #y’all are so sweet and just the best #this art was in the making for quite a while since hands will always be the Bain of my existence

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platinumrosetail · 6 months

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Magic x crossover reader fanfic idea!

So what if our dear reader was a Pokémon trainer who just started on her journey but ended up getting teleported into the magi world when Sinbad was a teen (you’ll have a Pokémon with you but it’ll be a baby pokemon when you first enter the magi world and the pokemon will also be your ace of your team in the future), after spending some time with him she started growing feelings for him but she was also feeling homesick so when she found a way back home she took it after leaving a note and gift for Sinbad when he comes back from the dungeon and as well as give his mother a gift before leaving and after returning she spent all of her time on her journey before becoming champions to a few regions while journeying, though one day she gets teleported back into the magi world this time close to when Aladdin starts his journey so she decided to join him and even met some new people that soon became her friends along with meeting Sinbad again while traveling with the young magi.

I hope you like this idea, it’s honestly the more thought out crossover reader idea I have so far for magi so I hope y’all like it 😁.

Also the gender might change in due time when this is in the making and published (which too be honest might be soon since I like the idea more than the others lol) so the reader might be male in the book than the pronouns I use in the idea here as I would love to finally make a male x male!reader book, this doesn’t mean it’s guaranteed to be male!reader though as I might keep it female!reader.

I sadly hardly see that many interesting magi stories for x reader that isn’t a oneshot (there is so many of them I could hardly find any x reader fanfic 😭) also I’ve been meaning to make a book for this fandom for so so long but the drafted books in the past for them always ended up getting deleted because I just couldn’t get behind them anymore so hopefully this isn’t like them as I would like to finally make a magi fanfic of my own.

Oh! I might do some if not all characters to turn yandere it honestly depends on the character and if I feel like making some if not all characters yandere.

Also seeing as you traveled through a few regions you’ll have more Pokémon than the normal six plus legendaries as the side of me that wanted the reader to have op and more Pokémon than six won so yea lol sorry I try not to do this but it sometimes fails as I love op readers and I want to see characters be shocked on what powerful creatures the reader have lol 😂.

Anyway, again, hope y’all like this idea and hope y’all have a wonderful day/evening/night!! 😁

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theunstuffedpepper · 7 months

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First of all, y’all were completely right with your tumblr-diagnosis of mastitis. Thank you! I got an antibiotic from my dr on Friday. It was very early so she recommended waiting till Saturday; if it didn’t start feeling better, then start taking the antibiotic. Funny enough, I woke up Saturday and it felt significantly better. So I guess now I’ve got the antibiotic if I need it in the future and at least now I know what it feels like to better identify it myself.

We traveled to my parents house 2.5 hours away in NJ for the weekend and stayed with them Friday night till Sunday afternoon. We got to see my grandfather who turned 90 on Sunday. He’s not doing well, and it feels like the last time I’ll see him, so it was very special that we could see him and have him meet Derrick and see Holden again.

Back to the regularly scheduled programming today. MIL is helping a few days this week so B can continue repairs at the apartment building. I’m holding it down here at home with her help. No other issues so far with my MIL.. let’s hope it stays that way. Though her dropping off food she cooks for us is so nice and appreciated, I’m missing my own home cooking a bit. 😅 I’ll try and make a little something this week that we can share with her.

I’m feeling more focused on weight loss now. I’ve got my postpartum 6-week appointment on Thursday where I’ll hopefully get cleared to exercise. We live in a quiet, idyllic community and I see other folks out jogging and walking with their strollers and whatnot and I’d love to be able to do the same soon. Maybe meet some more neighbors that way, too. Just in time for the fall weather to arrive. Yes.

#first weekend away with baby d #wasn’t gonna share that nursing photo but what the hell #proud of myself #09112023 #momblr

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runnning-outof-time · 1 year

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The Events That Befall Us | Tommy Shelby x Reader - Chapter 8 of Zablife’s Story Share

Request: no - Chapter 8 of @zablife ‘s Story Share - find more of the story HERE.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Solomons!reader

Summary: Some time has passed, and (Y/N)'s time at the safe house she was sent to felt like it dragged on without Tommy by her side. Everything seems to be fine though...until it doesn't.

Warnings: threats made against a person

Word Count: 3052

A/N: I’m really excited to share this addition to the story with y’all … hopefully it makes sense and flows along with the rest. Also I hope it’s ok that I added a title to it, Lee … I wasn’t sure if one had been added before and couldn’t find it, so I thought one up. I wanted to give a shoutout to @flysafepapi whos notes helped me out immensely on planning this chapter out. I’ve babbled enough now…Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: Almost forgot to say that I’ll be handing this over to the lovely @there-goes-thefighter next!! I can’t wait to see where she takes it!!

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

———

"When will you come to get me?" (Y/N) asked, her fingers tapping against her chin as she looked out the window. The seaview from her second story bedroom was lovely to look at, but it wasn't the familiar plains of Warwickshire, and its presence made (Y/N) feel sadder with each passing day.

"I don't know yet," Tommy's voice came crackly through the receiver, a stark reminder that he still wasn't by her side.

(Y/N)'s heart sank as she heard his response. She didn't know how she did it just a mere months ago, but now being apart from Tommy felt like pure torture. The days were dragging, and the times - like this one - where Tommy was on the other end of the receiver were the only ones where she felt like she was alive. But this was the safest place for her to be...at least that was what everyone kept telling her.

"I miss you, Tommy," she said in a soft voice, the child-like nature of her words making her feel pathetic for saying them. But it was the truth.

"I know, love," his response made it seem evident that he held the same feelings that she did. It was just that he was trying to hold them back. Her being away again after he'd just gotten her back was killing him, but he knew that it was for the better. It wasn't safe for her to be with him right now...not until everything blew over. He let out a sigh and brought his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose before he spoke again: "I need to sort a few things out yet before it'll be safe here again."

"What things?" she asked him although she knew that it'd most likely be a dead end question.

"I can't say," his response proved her right, and it made her exhale a sigh.

"Whatever it is, Tommy..." she trailed off, swallowing thickly before continuing, "I just need you to stay safe."

He knew that he couldn't promise her his safety. That wasn't guaranteed in the line of work he found himself in. But he also couldn't have her across the country, worrying about him with nothing she could do to help her case. "I will," he told her, hoping that his voice didn't betray him. "I have to go, (Y/N). I will call later," he said then, his eyes focused on the clock that sat on the corner of his desk.

"Ok, Tommy," she agreed with him, though her heart hurt more now than before. Finishing the call was always the worst. It once again made her wonder how she was able to run off with no word to him on where she was going. Things were different then, she kept telling herself, and now she couldn't stand to be away from his side. Reuniting with him that for that one night reminded her of what she had with him. "I love you," she breathed then, her eyes on the sea once more.

"I love you," his words were raw, sincere, and it made her heart clench. If only she could see him; hold him, maybe things would be the slightest bit better.

The phone call ended there, and (Y/N) didn't miss the haunting fact that she was now truly alone, once again. Setting her chin on her hand that was propped up on the desk she was sitting at, she watched the sea as its waves rolled in and out. If only she could be the sea...moving about without a care; able to do what she wanted, to be with who she wanted. Things have changed now though, trouble was eminent, and she was doing everything she could to keep herself on the sidelines of it. Her days of meddling about were finished for now, whether she liked it or not. She'd have to let the men sort it out. Whether that was good or not, she did not know.

But if there was one thing she knew to be true, it was that being stuck in this bedroom; in this house for days on end without doing as much as walking its grounds was starting to eat her alive. She needed to do something, to get out. So she stood from the desk and grabbed a coat to ward off the chilliness she'd surely be met with outside. After slipping on her shoes, she walked down the steps and into the home's front room.

Mariam, the house's owner, was sitting on one of the chairs, and she smiled at (Y/N) once she noticed her. She was a sweet, older woman who was happy to grant (Y/N) asylum after her living arrangement with Alfie didn't prove to be working. It was agreed upon that there was a potential threat of her being found at her brother's residence, so she was relocated to this address, which was only known to Alfie, her uncle, Charles, and Tommy. (Y/N) couldn't deny that she liked having the other woman's company, but it didn't completely quell her longing for something familiar.

"What will you do today, Ms. Solomons?" Mariam asked, addressing (Y/N) by her maiden name so that suspicions didn't rise around the town. Alfie was known personally around Margate, but Tommy was not. The Shelby name surely preceded him though, so they didn't want to take any chances.

"I think I will go into town; to have a change in scenery," (Y/N) answered, finding her purse hanging by the door. "Is there anything I can get you from the market?" she asked as she turned to look at the woman in the chair.

"No," Mariam shook her head, "be safe out there. Enjoy your time."

"Thank you," (Y/N) said with a nod and a slight smile as she grabbed hold of the door handle. Mariam smiled at her as she then opened the door and exited the house. The air, as expected, was chilly, but (Y/N) smiled as it hit her face. It felt good to be out again, and now the possibilities of what to do were endless.

——

It sounded silly, but being out amongst others felt so foreign to (Y/N). She'd spent the past few weeks in the safe house, and the only person she really had to talk to was Mariam. Occasionally some other, older women would come over and spend time with Mariam, which (Y/N) also relished in, but usually her days were spent in solitude.

She wore a smile as she walked around the coastal town, taking in all of the sights and sounds that were surrounding her. A small shop eventually caught her eye. It was one of those catch-all typed shops that had many different sorts of things in it, from knick-knacks to food goods.

"Good afternoon!" the shop's owner greeted her from behind the register, "feel free to look around and let me know if you need help."

"Thank you," (Y/N) smiled at the man before she started to walk down the first aisle. She took her time, looking at all of the wares that were on display.

Nothing seemed to catch her eye until she found a knick-knack that made her smile. It was small in size, and was of two, cream-colored birds that were facing each other. The words 'love birds' were etched into each of the birds; one word on each bird. Looking at it reminded her of her and Tommy, and it was that warming thought that made her take it off of the shelf. Sure, it was corny, but she was hoping that similar thoughts would come to her every time she looked at it.

She continued down the aisles, looking closely at the other things that were on sale so that she wouldn't miss any potential good finds. She made her way through the store slowly, and eventually found herself at the cash register. In her hands was the bird knick-knack and also a porcelain mouse that was holding a pink flower in its hands. She thought that Mariam would like that, considering that she had many other, similar pieces placed around her home.

"Have you found everything you needed?" the same man that greeted her asked, a welcoming smile on his face.

"Yes," (Y/N) nodded as he began checking her out. She exited the store minutes later after thanking the shop's owner, and after looking both ways, she decided to continue to the right.

Something caught her eye before she began walking. A man, dressed in a navy blue, tailored suit and a matching fedora, was leaning up against the lamp post. (Y/N)'s eyes lingered on him for a moment, and she watched as he tried to avert his eyes the second he noticed her looking. Seeing him made (Y/N) furrow her eyebrows. He looked like he had a purpose, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it could be. Brushing his presence off, she turned to the right and began walking down the street. There was a bakery a few stores away, and she planned to get herself a snack before turning back to go home.

But something immediately seemed off. From the corner of her eye, she could see the fedora-wearing man walking parallel to her, a few steps behind on the sidewalk across the street. An uneasy feeling bubbled up inside of her. Who could he be? What could he want? The questions started bouncing around her mind. Half of her wanted to go over and ask him these questions outright. Realization struck her before she could though. He was probably just one of the men, the soldiers, that Alfie had hired on to make sure that she was protected no matter where she was.

The only thing that threw her off slightly was the way he was dressed...none of the soldiers she'd met in the past ever wore something as nice as the suit this man had on. Maybe he's just upped the ante she thought to herself before dismissing the thought and grabbing the handle of the bakery's door. This was her time to enjoy herself, and she wasn't going to let what was happening amidst her families crowd her mind.

——

Tommy nodded at the two men standing on either side of the closed doors as he walked up to them. Wordlessly, the men opened the door, both nodding back at Tommy before they allowed him to walk inside what looked like a boardroom. It was empty, save for one other man. A man that made Tommy's blood boil almost immediately.

"Shelby," the man greeted after taking the toothpick out of his mouth, "you've decided to meet me."

"Nothing's changed, Luca," Tommy's response was curt, letting the other man know that no advances had been made in the time that had passed since their previous dealings.

"But you've still decided to meet me," Luca pointed out, his eyebrows raised as he motioned for Tommy to sit down in the empty seat across from him. Tommy glanced down before he pulled the chair out and sat in it.

"I'm meeting you because of the letter you've sent," Tommy clarified, leaning back against the chair.

"So I've piqued your interest?"

"You don't need to bring (Y/N) into this," Tommy jumped right to the chase, his voice steely to show the seriousness of the matter.

"Why shouldn't I?" Luca countered, "doing so has gotten you to this room with me."

"No civilians, no children...we agreed upon that," Tommy pointed out, hoping that reminding the man sitting opposite of him would get that man to reconsider his strategy.

But it didn't. "Of which (Y/N) is neither, so tell me why I should leave her out of this," Luca asked for an explanation.

Tommy had one in a second, "because she's not who caused this. She has nothing to do with her uncle, or the things that he's into."

"And what are you willing to do?"

"Excuse me?" Tommy quirked an eyebrow.

"What are you willing to do to leave her out of this?" the Italian clarified, placing the toothpick back into his mouth, moving it around as he waited for the other man's response.

Tommy took a moment to respond, thinking about what was just said. "What do you want?" he decided to throw the question back onto the other man.

"Charles Solomons," Luca named the name, his focus zeroed in on Tommy, watching for the smallest moves or changes.

"And if I give him to you?"

"She's safe."

"If not?" Tommy countered then, cocking his head to the side slightly as he asked about the flip side of the deal that was being wagered.

"Then I tell my men to move in on (Y/N). She'll become a lesson," Luca didn't hesitate in laying out the consequences. Tommy narrowed his eyes at the man sitting across from him. "I know where she is, Shelby," Luca revealed the ace hid up his sleeve. Tommy's lips parted slightly at the admission even though he tried to hide the shock. "I know that she's waiting for you...that you don't know when you'll come to get her...that she misses you. Maybe you should've gone when you had the chance..." he trailed off, tutting at the man across from him.

Tommy didn't know what to say. He seemed to be stuck between a rock and a hard place, and although he wanted to believe that the other man was bluffing, he couldn't ignore the obvious details. Luca must've been listening in to their calls; he had to have known where she was.

A grin formed on Luca's face. He had Tommy right where he wanted him. He broke the silence as he stood from the chair: "bring me Solomons or she's gone, Shelby," he ordered, giving the man in front of him the ultimatum before he left the room without giving the chance for a rebuttal.

—

Later that night, Tommy got a phone call. He picked it up and felt his heart clench at the voice that came through the receiver. "Tommy, I...I think something bad's about to happen," (Y/N)'s words were filled with worry.

"What is it, love?" he asked her, even though he knew what might already say.

"There's men. They...they've been around town, and have been trailing me, and now they're outside the house," she paused, taking a steadying breath before continuing, "I thought they were your's; Alfie's, but I'm not sure anymore. They seem...different, foreign almost," she finished with another deep breath. Tommy clenched his hand together in a tight fist at the words his wife uttered. "Tommy, I..."

"(Y/N), shh," he cut her off, hating the way her voice was cracking now, "it's ok. It's going to be ok. We...we can't talk anymore, but I'm going to make this right, I..."

"You're going to stop calling me? Why?" she cut him off this time.

"The why doesn't matter. Just don't worry, eh?" he stressed.

"Now that you've said that, I'm going to worry," she pointed out. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked then.

Tommy let out a sigh and dropped his head into his hand. "This will get fixed. You just need to stay inside the house. Don't interfere, no matter what happens," he spoke seriously.

There was a pause on the other side of the line. (Y/N) thought over what he said. Her fight or flight instinct was itching to kick in, and she so wanted to choose the former of the options. But Tommy was just about begging her to go for the latter. After a few moments, she exhaled a sigh, "ok," she agreed with his directions.

"Good," Tommy spoke quickly once he heard her agreement, "good, (Y/N). I...I have to go now, love, ok? I'll make this right," he assured her again as he got ready to end the call.

"I love you, Tommy," she told him, trying to keep the worry from her words.

"I love you," he echoed the sentiment before saying his goodbye. (Y/N) followed suit with one of her own before the line went dead. She hung up the phone with a shaky breath before closing her eyes. Something was happening, and she had not a clue what it was. Now she had to put her trust completely in her husband and hope that that would be the right choice.

——

Tommy was up at first light, hooking his best horse up to the wooden vardo that he planned on taking on his journey. He worked with an urgency, hastily making sure that everything was squared away so that he could start out without much delay. He'd just climbed up on the front seat and took hold of the reins when he heard his name being called.

"Tommy?" it sounded like Johnny Dogs, and his voice was approaching quickly. "Tommy?" he called again as he appeared around the corner of the stable.

"Yeah?" Tommy asked, his eyes not leaving the ground.

"Where ya goin', Tom?" Johnny questioned, confusion in his voice.

"Margate, Johnny," Tommy decided to be honest, knowing that the man he was talking to wouldn't tell a soul.

"Margate? Why's that? And why by horse?" more questions were hurled in his direction.

"I need to get to (Y/N)," he answered, his eyes still averted, "I'm going off of the roads. There'll be men who meet me halfway, they'll drive with me to Margate," he detailed the plan.

"It'll be dangerous, Tom," Johnny pointed out, hesitance seeping into his voice.

"That's why I'm going alone," Tommy paused, clearing his throat before continuing, "I'm willing to take my chances to get to her."

He finally looked up then, and Johnny instantly knew that nothing he could say would change the other man's mind. Tommy was like a horse with blinders on now. He needed to get to (Y/N) before trouble did, and he was going to get there, even if it meant going through hell or high water.

(Y/N) was the only thing on his mind.

———

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @lovemissyhoneybee @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @raincoffeeandfandoms @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @lora21 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #zablifestoryshare

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beloved-belittled · 24 days

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Yandere Cetrion x Reader

A/N: Two stories in a single week? Don't say I don't ever treat y’all. Since I've written for Kronika and Shinnok I figured I should include her as well. Also her Tower ending… It intrigues me. It gives me ideas about a few stories is all I'll say.

TW: Platonic yandere, violence, stalking, unhealthy power dynamics, MK11 Tower ending spoilers, honestly this is pretty tame.

Out of her family she's the most likely to fall for a mortal. Cetrion genuinely cares about mortals despite her loyalty to her mother’s wishes. This is demonstrated in her Tower ending, where initially upon getting The Hourglass she creates a paradise of sorts. I imagine that in Heaven the Elder Gods are quite bored, not having much to do as their interference with the realms is limited. And Heaven isn't exactly getting invaded or falling apart anytime soon. So, I imagine they watch the happenings in the realms like it's a livestream.

This is how Cetrion ends up discovering you, just one day while she's watching Earthrealm. Though the Gods are meant to be unbiased in their decisions, she would be lying if she said Earthrealm wasn't her favorite. Out of all the realms it's the one that's come closest to embodying virtue. What places her attention on you would be any act of good. Whether that's volunteering at a soup kitchen or an animal shelter -as long as you're helping those less fortunate you'll catch her eye.

When you do catch her eye it's hard for Cetrion to pull her attention away from you. It's as though she senses some potential in you, but can't quite place her finger on what. It isn't love at first sight, but she is intrigued with you immediately after that incident. From that point on you'll have divine eyes watching you, observing every single action and word you say without rest…

So, you better be on your best behavior! It seems like Earthrealm (for the most part) follows our history so you may not even know about the existence of Elder Gods. Even so, the burning sensation of being watched everywhere you go is too intense to be imagined. You'll likely become paranoid in public/private but not know the reason why.

Hopefully, upon getting that sensation you decide to continue being a good person. Cetrion is pleased to see such saintly behavior from you. You help others without expecting a reward and always treat others with compassion. It warms her heart to see you try to improve the world you're in even just a little.

Cetrion is also the quickest to pine for you out of her family. She falls into limerence in about a few months. That time might as well be seconds to her. Likely, you're not even the first human who she’s obsessed over. But, you're the first one where she'll actually be able to act on her feelings.

Cetrion was originally going to just hope that your soul would ascend to Heaven after your death. Maybe she would even attempt to coax you into living a righteous life, assuming she could get away with contacting you past the other Elder Gods. But with Shinnok's decapitation and Kronika wanting to reset the timeline again, things go in Cetrion's favor more than it has for the past resets. She ends up rebelling against Kronika and successfully becoming the Keeper of Time. With her and the Elder Gods out of the way, well, what's stopping her from getting to know you a bit? But first, she must make a better world for all mortals. It's her duty as the Goddess of Virtue after all.

You don't meet Cetrion until after she reshapes the timeline. She crafts your fate to be one by her side -an emissary of the Life Goddess herself. As she watches you be born into a loving family, she can't help but smile as she thinks about what your future holds.

I believe Cetrion in a way just wants a happy family -especially after observing mortals for so long. I believe that's why she follows Kronika even if a part of her really believes her mother’s wishes are utter garbage. If she lives up to Kronika's expectations then maybe she'll get love for once. At least with her gone, she's fully accepted mortals as her family.

Annnnnd that's where the good times end. While you were a relatively kind person in the previous timelines, something about having a life free of adversaries seems to change you. You grow up to become a sinful person. You overindulge yourself in food, liquor, and gambling. You constantly partake in illegal substances and attempt to get others as addicted as you are. You even show absolutely no compassion to your fellow man -taunting and bullying anyone who dared to deviate from your worldview. You're all around a bad person, and it becomes even worse when you get the wise idea of joining a mercenary gang to fight in Outworld.

Cetrion stops that timeline before you get too out of control. She generously decides that maybe your behavior was just a fluke. You reincarnate into a similar life as before, but still you fall into being a vile pest. Annoyed at this she once again restarts the timeline, but this time she puts you in a not as noble but still caring family.

Nope. You're still evil. And not only just you, but it seems like other mortals are getting worse each time she resets despite her making a paradise. She's become quite disillusioned at this point, frustrated at how doing the right thing is leading to despicably immoral creations. She thinks that maybe mortals do constantly need that push of an adversary. To always need one foot on their neck to appreciate her gifts.

As Cetrion reshapes the realms to something more… Hellish, she's still willing to give you one last chance. Maybe your corruption was simply from being around all these impure mortals. If you were closer to your goddess, right with her in the Heavens then perhaps the taint of sin will leave you. You'll be pure again. She'll cleanse you of filth no matter the means she must resort to.

So Cetrion once again resets time, this time with you being blessed to be her one and only true child. You literally carry a part of her divine essence now, so there is NO excuse for your actions now. She truly hopes that you'll be good this time, but if not she'll punish you like a parent must with an unruly child. As you grow up you find yourself constantly being observed and scrutinized. You don't know it though -she wants to see your true nature unfold. To see who you really are without the influence of your surroundings.

And once again. Once again you disappoint her. And you do so in the most hurtful of ways. You rebel against her, siding with the mortals and citing how cruel her treatment of them is. How evil she is to allow them to face the consequences of their actions. “My sweet, pure (Y/N).” She says, as you point your weapon at her. “I see that you've become just as tainted as those in the realms below. No matter, I will strike you down where you stand.” She lifts a hand towards you, charging up a powerful beam.

You get destroyed in the battle, laying in the ground of the celestial plane on the precipice of death. As she approaches your limp form you expect her to deliver the killing blow. But instead, she picks you up ever so gently. You're surprised at her tenderness and the genuine smile you see on your mother's face. Then you feel your body lurch downwards as you descend into the depths of the Netherrealm. You faint just before you recognize your new location though, too sapped of strength to stay conscious.

Little did you know, but the Netherrealm was about to become your new home for eons. Cetrion made sure of it, trapping you there with a seal only she could remove. If you wanted to be corrupt you could stay where all of the other wicked souls went. But unlike others, you wouldn't be free to wander in agony. She needs someone to thoroughly ingrain in your mind never to go against family. And perhaps, with enough time, you'd finally be cleansed of mortal sins to join her in the heavens again.

But for now, you'll be paying “Uncle” Shinnok and “Big Brother” Raiden a little visit.

#yandere cetrion #cetrion x reader #mortal kombat x reader #cetrion #x reader #my writings

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solarpunkani · 10 months

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Sonic the Hedgehog and Solarpunk Ideals

Alright, it's June 23rd which means not only is it Solarpunk Aesthetic Week, but it's also Sonic the Hedgehog's 32nd birthday. Let's all say Happy Birthday Sonic the Hedgehog.

Overall, that means it's time for me to do something I usually don't do on this blog--talk about Sonic the Hedgehog, one of my favorite series of all times. Specifically, how I feel it embodies Solarpunk at least a little bit. Hopefully you'll see where I'm coming from by the end of this.

Real quick though, special shout out to @modern-solarpunk for being my beta reader 100/10 owe you my life.

Alright let’s make one thing clear. I’m a Sonic nerd. I’ve been a Sonic nerd since at least the 5th grade. Sonic the hedgehog is one of My Things. IDK if I’d call it a hyperfixation, but it’s definitely one of My Things, and it’s been one of My Things longer than gardening or even Solarpunking and all the other stuff y’all know me for has been. I am about to talk y’alls ears off. Buckle up.

With that in mind, I’m not going to pretend that the Sonic franchise is a perfect franchise made by perfect people working under a perfect corporation. Even ignoring the timeline disasters, retconning, and rushed projects (*cough cough Sonic 06 and Sonic Boom cough cough*), Sonic the Hedgehog is made by a corporation in a capitalistic world who has done some… iffy things in the past, present, and likely the future. We are, here, today, strictly talking about two things--the creation of Sonic and the creation of Dr. Eggman. There will be a super special third topic I bring up later, but that's gonna be its own post. I’ll bring up a handful of things from the shows, comics, movies, etc. If I finish writing and editing and posting this whole lengthy diatribe and someone ignores this paragraph and brings up some inane unrelated shit that the Big Corporation Guys did That One Time Months/Years Ago I might snap. Yes, corporations are bad. Yes, I like Sonic. Let’s establish that.

Ok let’s actually get started.

Sonic the Hedgehog the Dude, Tiny Rebellions, and Freedom

Alright, so Sonic the Hedgehog is a series of games, movies, comic books, TV shows--it's a whole thing, it's an entire franchise. The basics of what you need to know here is that a little 3’3” superpowered anthropomorphic blue hedgehog dude and his array of equally-animalian and equally-colorful friends are ruining the robotics-based evil world takeover plans of a 6’1” egg-shaped human dude on the regular. Occasionally, there are other villains, and other storylines, and sometimes the motivations change, but that sentence boils down the Sonic the Hedgehog storyline to its base essentials.

The Sonic franchise was dreamed up in 1990 when SEGA needed a new mascot to compete with Nintendo’s iconic Mario. Personality-wise, he’s said to have been inspired by “a modern sensibility of wanting to get things done right away, righting wrongs as they presented themselves instead of letting them linger.” As we currently know him, with Sonic “What you see is what you get--just a guy who loves adventure.” He’s a free-spirited drifter who goes with the flow, valuing freedom above all else and wanting nothing more than to live by his own rules and whims rather than bowing to the expectations of others. He loves interacting with the many cultures on his planet (which we mostly see in Sonic Unleashed, but still), trying local dishes with friends frequently. Overall, Sonic is driven by a strong sense of justice and fairness, fighting for the ideal of freedom rather than the name of the law--and he always fights for the underdog. He likes to handle things on his own, but he isn’t above looking to his friends for help when needed--and acknowledges their role in his life and achievements regularly (if he can be a bit smug at times). He appreciates scenic views and nature, with a special fondness for places filled with plants--we see him do this lots in the series--and he hates when people destroy it for their own gain. He doesn’t hate cities, though, and finds they have their own beauty.

So what’s Solarpunk about this? In my eyes, a good bit. If you don’t know what Solarpunk is, it’s described on Wikipedia as ‘a literary and artistic movement that envisions and works towards actualizing a sustainable future interconnected with nature and community.” Aesthetically, I like to describe it as a mix between sci-fi and cottagecore, with a particular leaning towards some steampunk and some cyberpunk elements, but in a brighter, cleaner, more hopeful way. It's important to note, however, that Solarpunk is also a practical and political action mindset--as much as Solarpunks dream of a hopeful future and work to visualize it, we also work to learn the concepts and take the actions needed to make it a reality. I’m not going to sit here and pretend that Sonic is super politically revolutionary, I’m here to talk about how Sonic fits into the aesthetics of Solarpunk.

As such, lets get into the point--I feel like Sonic is pretty Solarpunk, personality-wise. He just fits a lot of the core tenants--wants to right wrongs ASAP, whether they’re his wrongs or wrongs of the past. He values freedom, traveling, and beautiful natural places--a big chunk of Solarpunk is learning to appreciate and protect the natural species around you, and plenty of people have dreamed up nomadic Solarpunk societies. Even Sonic living by his own rules instead of bowing to expectations fits in Solarpunk--A Solarpunk Manifesto states that “the ‘punk’ in Solarpunk is about rebellion, counterculture… and enthusiasm. it is about going in a different direction than the mainstream…” People in the Solarpunk movement care deeply about freedom, justice, fairness, and fixing the broken systems we deal with today--and often start the legwork by forming or taking part in community-based movements and initiatives. We lean onto those around us for strength and courage, to work as a group to think of solutions to problems, whether that be something small like trading DIY patch instructions to bigger things like planning and creating community gardens to even sharing news about unionizing and more. There’s acts a Solarpunk can do alone--like guerrilla gardening, or moss graffiti, or drawing and writing concepts of a brighter future--but we all know we’re at our strongest when we’re not just one, but many.

But one of my biggest arguments to Sonic being Solarpunk actually centers around his nemesis--Doctor Eggman.

Doctor Eggman as the Antithesis of Solarpunk

After all, it’s pretty hard to talk about how a hero of a series is Solarpunk without discussing the people and forces he fights against, and most of the time that’s Doctor Ivo Robotnik--better known to most as Dr. Eggman. He was developed more or less directly alongside Sonic the hedgehog, and as such the notes about his creation not only influence his character, but the character and vibe of most of the franchise so far. So who is Doctor Eggman?

Doctor Eggman is often described as the World’s Vilest Person--he’s evil, mean, cruel-spirited, and a self-proclaimed genius scientist who only really thinks about what he wants and what he needs to do to get it--getting pleasure in crushing anything that gets in his way. His main goal is to establish his Eggman Empire across the entire planet and build his own version of a utopia, Eggmanland--usually taking the form of a polluted, smog-filled city or a robotic theme park. His plans have varied from excavating natural spaces and turning woodland creatures into robotic slaves (Sonic 1, 2, 3), using doomsday devices to threaten nations and blow up the moon (Sonic Adventure 2), tie down planets for his own purposes (Sonic CD, Sonic Colors), or even using cosmic forces beyond his comprehension to flood metropolises or literally rip the planet apart (Sonic Adventure, Sonic Unleashed). In the comics and some shows, he even takes it a step further--a common theme with him is Roboticization, wherein people are forcibly turned from organic beings into robot slaves. Sometimes its a machine fulfilling this sometimes-irreversible process (Archie Comics, Sonic the Hedgehog Cartoon, Sonic Underground), while other times its an all-consuming virus that grows out of his control and turns almost the entire planet into raving robotic zombies (IDW Sonic Comics issues #12-29). He’s fueled by delusions of grandeur, believing that all of the world’s problems would be solved if he specifically were in charge of everyone all the time and had things his way, and makes robotic inventions and weapons to obtain power. He’s overflowing with self-confidence and pride, highlighting his ‘scientific genius’ whenever he can. He’ll leave temporary allies to rot if it gives him a chance to take all the credit and power for himself, he looks down on everyone else and sees them as insignificant, only interested in what benefits him. Fairness and community? With Doctor Eggman? Forget it, he’ll steal candy from a baby and then turn it into a robot if given the chance. And even with robotic helpers he makes himself, he quickly gets sick of them--Eggman doesn’t do friends.

I’d compare him to Elon Musk, but at least Dr. Eggman is actually a genius.

A Solarpunk Manifesto was published in 2019, describing Solarpunk as “A movement in speculative fiction, art, fashion, and activism that seeks to answer and embody the question ‘what does a sustainable civilization look like, and how can we get there?’”. Eggmanland is not how we get there--Doctor Eggman is an embodiment of everything the Solarpunk ideology stands against, and not entirely by accident. Here’s a quote from Yuji Naka, one of the creators of Sonic the Hedgehog.

“Robotnik was created to be the opposite of Sonic, and to be the bad guy. At that time, there was opposition between "developers" and "environmentalists", and Robotnik was created to represent machinery and development.”

He represents it pretty well--his common motifs are imperialism and pollution, and his version of a utopia is often reminiscent of pre-EPA photos of US cities. Sometimes its done to a cartoonish level--but the point still stands. Whenever we catch glimpses of Eggman’s ‘Home Bases,’ whether its Scrap Brain Zone in Sonic 1, Chemical Plant in Sonic 2, Metallic Madness in Sonic CD, or elsewhere, we’re always seeing tons of mechanization, smog, pollution, and death robots.

Solarpunks aren’t opposed to technology--not in the slightest. But I feel its safe to say that any Solarpunk would be opposed to the over-industrialized, hyper-mechanized, pollution-riddled empire hellscape that Eggman would call heaven. (And you know damn well he'd be all over those Boston Dynamic robot dogs if he were real). To me, Eggman represents the grim-dark futures that apocalyptic stories tell us we’re barreling towards--the darker, less sunny side of the already dystopian cyberpunk genre. Solarpunk is the sun that burns away at smoggy futures, the light that reveals what we can have instead, the ideas that lead to actions to secure it. Its hope in a bottle--hope that we can enjoy and add to, a dream that we can help make into a reality. The ideals are chock full of resisting the real-life Eggmans who want to send humanity into a nose-dive of mechanization and energy-burning self-destruction for the sake of short-lived profits and smug ego-trips.

Is Sonic a strictly Solarpunk series? I wouldn’t necessarily say so. But I think if the themes and terms had existed in 1990, it certainly would have been cited as a bit of an inspiration. Whether the Solarpunk community would have been chill with a corporation citing the term as inspiration is a whole other deal.

Stay tuned for this posts' sequel, where I talk about how I feel my favorite game in the series--Sonic Colors--is Solarpunk.

#solarpunk #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #solarpunk aesthetic week #out of queue #ani rambles #nobody call me cringe i'll accept critique i'll even accept 'i disagrees' but if you call me cringe or bully me you're getting blocked #BUT ALSO IM NOT DONE YET I STILL HAVE TO POST PART TWO #UPDATE: I'VE ADDED THE LINKS GO HAM

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