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immasock · 3 months

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Hello.... I just came back from church and I will worship demons again. Anyway, I just came into mind to Nephalem! Mc, (I love really OP MC) and I was forced to read the bible and another version that's the reason I've come to this conclusion. So like it's between Belith (the most powerful demon king who owns 85(?) demon legions) and Seraphina (the female version of the six winged seraphim) they do the nasty and boom demonangel baby whose raised in an human orphanage because God forbids and Bebelith's (uwu) kingdom opposed. And the child somehow almost terrorizes the entire human race without exposing themselves. Imagine those reactions from the bros + dateables hekhek. I really love the bible sometimes you know...

It’s been too long but my god I’m excited to do this one. I always love your ideas

Nephalem!MC + The Obey me boys

Pronouns: They/Them

The chaos

MC grew up as an orphan, going in and out of foster homes and different adoptive parents. It never lasted though. No one knew why. The kid seemed nice enough, if not a little quiet

Some say it was because they were too quiet. They never talked or bonded with the families. Others say that it was because the other families kept having kids of their own and decided they didn’t need MC anymore

But the real reason? The real reason was because they were actually a little terror

They would start out seeming innocent, sure, but that was all a part of their plan

After about a week though? They would start causing all sorts of chaos.

When MC got sent down to the Devildom, they thought it would be the same thing. They’d be there for maybe a month and then be sent back. But no, that’s not quite what happened

Lucifer:

When MC first came through the portal, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of them

He knew that something wasn’t quite right about them but that would have to be an issue for later

He has things to do

He assigned Mammon to deal with them while he went back to his office to check this “humans” file

Except wait

They are, in fact, not a human

Well fuck

This didn’t go like he planned

He immediately tells Diavolo, thinking he’d want to send MC back and get a new exchange student

But no

He wants to keep them

Of course 😑

Lucifer can’t do much else besides just proceed as normal, he supposes

But he does keep an eye on the kid

It’s bad enough that he’s got to be responsible for a child, but a Nephalem?

He’s going to be grey by the time the exchange program is over

Mammon:

He genuinely has no clue

I love him but he doesn’t have the faintest idea

MC walks through that portal and he just assumes they’re just some human

Honestly, he won’t figure it out unless he’s told or if he catches them doing something

Even then, he might just assume they’ve been hanging around Solomon too much

He is, however, a great target for MCs chaos

He’s constantly being messed with

His things go missing, only to show up in random places

Grimm will appear and disappear in front of him

You get the gist

He’s easy to mess with

Which is why MC likes to hang around him

But he doesn’t mind too much

Once he warms up to them at least

He enjoys the company

Leviathan:

He also doesn’t know

But it’s mostly just because he doesn’t care

He’s focused on his games and anime

I get the feeling that he would be all over it if he found out though

Like he would think that it’s super cool

He could absolutely figure it out if he decided to dedicate the brain power to it

But he’s got other things to worry about

He’s also pretty easy to mess with

But be careful

He’s not just gonna get over it quickly like Mammon does

While MC could probably take Levi, I wouldn’t recommend it

Maybe avoid doing anything to his collections

Satan:

He figures it out pretty quickly

He’s a smart demon

MC absolutely fascinates him

He spends a bunch of his free time studying them

Trying to figure out anything and everything he can about them

Well

Until MC decides to be a little shit

Books start going missing and showing back up with writing on the pages

His feather boa is nowhere to be found (Though Mammon and Asmodeus aren’t complaining about that one)

At one point, Satan got turned into a cat for a few hours

Okay he didn’t mind that one all that much but still

It’s about the principle

It’s not smart to mess with him either but oh well

Asmodeus:

Every time I do a child!mc, I say the same thing

He absolutely adores them

He thinks they’re adorable and he can’t wait to dress them up

Maybe not this one tho

He still thinks they’re cute and wants to do little fashion shows with them, but it’s not really going to go how he planned

It’s crazy

Makeup isn’t the right color and the clothes keep changing into other clothes

How weird

In reality, MC just doesn’t like being dressed up so they have to make it fun for themselves somehow

I don’t have much to say for Asmo

Except that he’s gonna be a bit of a good sport when it comes to the chaos that is MC

Beelzebub:

Honestly

He also does not notice that there’s something off about the “human”

He’s gonna be easy to mess with as well

But do be careful

Stay away from his food

We’ve all seen the rampages he goes on when someone touches his food

I think that he would just assume that MC is this fragile little child and so he’d try to protect them

But he’s in for a surprise the first time that someone tries to mess with them

You can imagine that he’s speechless when he sees MC, this small child, absolutely demolish some demon

Doesn’t have to be physically

They could verbally destroy some random demon trying to mess with them as well

Either way, he wasn’t expecting it

Belphegor:

Honestly, this could go either way

I don’t think he’d be able to tell right away

Which is where lesson 16 would come in

But I think that, based on how this MC would react, he’d figure out that something isn’t quite right after that

There’s no way in hell this is some normal human, right?

Not after all that

Once he figures it out, he’d be pretty indifferent

He’d be put at ease that there isn’t a human staying with them

And he’d be more than happy to help them cause chaos

Especially if it’s directed towards Lucifer

Somehow tho

I don’t think he’d be that easy to fuck with

I feel like he’d be unbothered by anything they could do to him

Well

Mostly

Diavolo:

Once again, absolutely loves them

Even before he finds out

Which doesn’t take that long

Obviously

Since Lucifer found out and told him

I feel like he would be 100% on board with any mischief that they cause

Having to do all his princely duties all the time is so boring

He enjoys the entertainment

He would probably also be enamored with them

Wanting to see all that they can do

I dunno I wasn’t able to fall asleep last night so my brain isn’t very creative

He would try and involve them and what they can do in things and events

Most likely

He’s just excited

Barbatos:

He knew first

He just didn’t tell anyone

Because why would he?

I swear, this man lives for drama

He would never admit it but it’s true

Anyways

He doesn’t care either

As long as MC doesn’t cause problems

Which they absolutely will

I feel like his attitude towards MC would be similar to what it is with Dia and Luke

Just another child to look after

He’s fond of them tho

Don’t let him tell you otherwise

Simeon:

I don’t have much to say about him

He might be able to tell

Or he might not

If he does, he definitely does that thing he does where he doesn’t outright say he knows, but he drops hints

He might make a passing comment about how MC is similar to some of the angels he knows

And then a day later say how they remind him of one of the brothers

He would definitely wait for MC to outright tell him tho to actually say anything

He’s respectful like that

Solomon:

He knows

Maybe not right away but pretty early on

He’s also absolutely fascinated

He wants to do so many tests on them

Surely they react differently to his potions and spells, no?

Maybe they’ll love his cooking like the rest of them

That’s what he thinks at least

Or not

It’s been a while since I’ve played but I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew no one liked his cooking but he kept doing it just to take the piss

He’s such an asshole and I love him

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me asmo #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon

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galvanizedfriend · 8 months

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what do you think about the baby plotlines? about hope and the twins? do you think they ruined any chance of klaroline being together? or do you think kc could have been together for real and had a good relationship if the babies didn't exist?

This might seem surprising since I have written over a million words of baby fic (although I will argue that it's not a baby fic, it's a fic that contains a baby, which is very different 😌), but I hate the baby plot. I'm a clown. 🤡

It's not about Hope or the twins in particular, nothing against them, I just think that suddenly including magical babies in a supernatural story about vampires is just about the stupidest thing you can do. Vampires are not supposed to have babies, period. I remember watching the backdoor pilot episode of The Originals not having the slightest clue what to expect because I wasn't in fandom back then, or even following anything about TVD, just watched the episodes as they came out, and the moment they revealed The Originals' move to New Orleans was about a baby, I turned off my TV. Whoever thought that giving Klaus A BABY was the best thing they could do for him, is an idiot that should've been fired on spot.

If they wanted to explore the whole father-child situation, drawing from Klaus' immense well of daddy issues, they could've used Marcel. It would've been so much more powerful and so much more interesting. The thought that Klaus, out of all the Originals, would just decide to embrace fatherhood after getting a one-night stand he didn't even like accidentally pregnant makes NO SENSE AT ALL. This is the man who stabbed his siblings and carried them around in coffins as a love language. And people want me to believe that this violence-first, emotionally constipated hybrid would want to raise a child. Sure.

As for Caroline's pregnancy - I guess once you have established that Klaus could make magical babies, then anything was possible. The excuse they used that Candice was pregnant was so dumb though. So many movies and shows have been shot while the actresses were heavily pregnant, but their characters weren't. Catherine Zeta Jones was six or seven months pregnant in Chicago. Everyone in Grey's Anatomy had babies. Ellen Pompeo had three onscreen babies but none of them were written to match her real life pregnancies. In fact, Candice had to wear a prosthetic belly because she wasn't pregnant ENOUGH. So stupid.

HAVING SAID THAT. I don't think the babies were the reason why Klaroline didn't happen. At the end of the day, it wouldn't have been something that would've kept them apart if the writers had wanted to go there. If anything, babies could've brought them closer. I mean, Klaus should've been completely inept when it comes to taking care of another human being who's entirely dependent upon him. Caroline, as a carer at heart, could've seamlessly fit into the narrative. And especially after they gave her babies as well, they could've easily connected through their snowflake kids.

In fact, my personal headcanon (somewhat backed by real canon) is that they did. Klaus gave her money for her school, and while I don't think he did it so he could send Hope there later on as Legacies tried to make us believe, I do think the reason he ended up allowing Hope to attend the school was BECAUSE Caroline was there. He trusted her with his daughter, in a way he probably wouldn't have trusted anyone else, particularly because he was absent. He needed to know she would be safe and in good hands, and that was definitely not because of Alaric. And I also think they kept in touch during all those years where Hope went to school there and he went on a murder bend around Europe. Hayley couldn't get a hold of him, but Rebekah IMMEDIATELY knew who she could reach out to to find him. If Caroline hadn't seen or spoken to him in 15 years, that would make no sense. The way Klaus is all 'Trying not to flatter myself that you're here on a sudden whim to see me' implies more intimacy than two people who hadn't spoken in over a decade would've had. They were definitely in touch. How much touching was involved is up to your imagination. :)

One thing I wish Legacies had explored was Caroline's relationship with Hope. They obviously had one, we were just never shown it, which is sad, because there were so many interesting layers that could've been explored. It's also in my personal headcanon that Lizzie would've been fascinated with Klaus had him and Caroline ever had a chance to be together and he got to hang around her kids as well, and the irony that her middle name is Jenna is just delicious (Klaus wouldn't have felt the slightest bit of remorse). It would've given Alaric so much grief.

In conclusion, Klaroline could've been together with or without the babies. They weren't what was standing between them. Stupid writing was.

#yokan answers #anon #i love replying to asks #but bear in mind that whenever you ask me something you're just giving me an opportunity to launch into a ted talk lol

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chrisbitchtree · 2 years

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Coping by wiping out all Stancy road trip fantasy grossness and replacing it with Harringrove.

***

Billy still can’t believe that he’s dating Steve Harrington. Although can it really be called dating if you’ve been confined to a hospital bed for your entire relationship? Billy supposes so. If you count sharing a pudding cup and watching game shows as a date. Which he does. He has to, because who knows when they’ll let him out of this place? He has to take what he can get.

Of all the insanity he’s had to take in and digest since his return, Steve telling Billy that he always had feelings for him should be a small thing, but it continues to rock his world and bring a smile to his face, even two months later.

As Bob Barker tells a contestant to come on down on the screen, Billy pulls back from a chocolate flavoured kiss, a pleased little smile dancing on his lips. If he could walk, there would be a skip in his step.

“Wish you’d get up on here with me,” Billy says, taking Steve’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “We could both fit if we laid real close.”

“You know…” Steve starts, before Billy cuts him off.

“I know, I know, you don’t want to fuck with any of the wires or anything.” He’s heard Steve recite that line a million times, but it never stops him from trying to get the other boy up there to cuddle. Sue him if he wants Steve Harrington’s surprisingly muscled arms wrapped around him. He glares at the medical devices that are still hooked up to him, and will be for the foreseeable future.

Steve laughs. “Gotta get you good and healthy so I can finally take you out for more than green jello and Match Game reruns, baby.”

Baby. Billy doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of hearing Steve call him that. They sit in companionable silence for a moment, their clasped hands swinging between them, watching a contestant guess the price of a living room set, before Billy gets chatty again.

“When did you first realize you’d fallen hopelessly in love with me, pretty boy? When I died a hero’s death to save your asses?”

“No,” Steve replies, giving him that sappy look he’s so good at. The one that makes Billy feel like a hand has stuck itself in his chest and is squeezing his heart. “Way before that.”

“When?” Billy asks, curious.

“I used to have this fantasy,” Steve starts.

Billy smirks. “I’ve had plenty of fantasies about you too, Princess.”

Steve smacks him, lightly. “Not fantasies like that, you horndog. Although I’ve had plenty of those. But no, I used to picture me and Nancy, in an RV, flying down the highway, ready to see New England, our six kids in the back.”

Billy frowns. “Not in the mood to hear about your ex, Harrington.” She and Steve have been broken up for almost two years, and Steve has assured him time and time again that there’s nothing there, but he still can’t help the little twinge of jealously he feels when Steve mentions her.

“Wait,” Steve says, holding up a hand. “This is going somewhere. So, I used to fantasize about that all the time. I could picture so clearly my future with her. But then you showed up, and suddenly I couldn’t picture her so clearly anymore. The image got fuzzier and fuzzier, and I started to find that what I was picturing was changing. Where she’d always been next to me, singing along to The Partridge Family, was a curly haired blonde with sparkling blue eyes, arguing with me over directions and constantly changing the radio station while the kids and I complained about how loud the volume was. And I wasn’t headed east anymore. I was headed to California. The new fantasy was so much clearer. You taught the kids and I to surf once we got there, and we were all tanned and golden and happy. So happy. No matter what I did, I couldn’t see anyone but you next to me anymore. That’s how I knew. Knew I’d fallen hopelessly in love with you.”

Billy grins. “You want me to take you to California, baby? I’ll take you to California. As soon as I’m free, I’ll take you there. And someday, we’ll get that RV and we’ll take the kids on the same route, and we’ll make that dream come true.” He brings their clasped hands to his lips and holds them there for a minute as images fill his head of their future together. An endless highway, him and Steve together, forever, sunshine on their shoulders and love in their hearts.

#stranger things 4 spoilers #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #chrisbitchtree writes #my fic #stranger things 4 #harringrove fic

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toasecretsanta · 1 year

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[ @literallyjusttoa]’s match was @alyosita. My prompt was: “Representing cabin 4, meg retells her limited knowledge on apollo’s myths through pictionary and does her best not to offend any other Olympian.” The rating is general, and there’s no content warnings.

Meg cleared her throat, looking over the jumbled group of demigods sitting around the fire. Most people looked bored, though Sherman Yang seemed as eager as he would be on the battlefield. Meg guessed he was just eager for some sweet, sweet revenge.

This whole thing was useless, honestly. It had been months since her quests with Apollo had ended, and she had spent most of that time at Aeithales. Lu had insisted that visiting Camp Half-Blood would be good for her. Connect with your siblings, she said, Talk with other campers, spend some time in those monster infested woods! It all sounded fine and dandy until good old crotch-kicked Sherman Yang decided to question if Meg “really knew the god Apollo” like he hadn’t seen them together less than a year ago. Half of the younger campers bought his bullshit, so now Meg was up in front of the entire camp defending her honor. By playing pictionary.

She should have just stayed in the monster infested woods.

“Are you ready to start?” Malcolm Pace asked. He had made all the prompts, and Apollo’s kids were going to serve as her judges. Well, Apollo’s middle children at least. Kayla, Jerry, and Gracie were all itching for a chance to cause chaos, so they were more than willing to join this scheme. Traitors, the lot of them. Still, Meg sighed and nodded her head. She had bet her cabin’s honor on winning this game, so she kind of had to see it through.

“Ok, your first prompt is … Delos.”

Alright, simple enough. Meg was almost insulted that Malcolm thought she might not know this. She turned to the board and …

Ok, so there was one issue with this whole thing, which is that Meg absolutely could not draw. She was going to be working with stick figures here. She drew out three characters, making two smaller to emphasize the fact that they were babies. Then she started drawing the accessories she knew Apollo was born with. Apollo had shown her his cool glowing sword about a month ago, so she knew her depiction was striking and perfect. She made sure to add his fancy headband too. She stepped back to examine her work, then froze. She had one lavishly decorated stick figure, and two completely plain ones. Shit.

Now, if there’s anything that Meg had learned from a childhood with and emperor and six months of questing, it was that you shouldn’t diss the gods for no reason, and there was no way Meg was losing a limb or anything extreme because of a stupid pictionary game. She racked her brain for anyway to make Artemis or Leto more distinct. Leto was simple, since Apollo seriously loved his mom and had mentioned many things about her before. She always wore a veil, so Meg drew something that … vaguely looked like that? Apollo also mentioned that his mother bred and kept fowl, like roosters and pheasants, so Meg made an attempt at drawing a bird. She ended up using the tried and true “trace your hand to make a turkey” method, ignoring the fact that this made her birds about the same size as all of her stick figures. Maybe Leto owned giant chickens, how was she to know?

Artemis, as far as Meg was aware, didn’t get any fancy golden gifts like Apollo did when she was born, which seemed a bit unfair. She drew a moon on her forehead, and gave her a super big bow. Hopefully that wasn’t offensive.

To finish the whole thing off, she scribbled some daisies at the bottom of the whiteboard, because the flowers were important. She turned to the table of judges and waited for their judgment. “It’s … um,” Jerry squinted his eyes, “Is that supposed to be dad?”

“That’s Leto!” Gracie exclaimed, pointing at the Leto stick figure. “Dad told me his mom has these biiiig chickens. Like, double my size!”

“Is that a chicken, or a turkey?” Kayla asked, a shit eating grin on her face “Because if it’s a turkey, I don’t know if we can count it …”

“It’s a bird.” Meg said. “I drew you a bird.”

The three turned away, whispering among themselves and glancing at Meg’s drawing like it was crime scene evidence. Eventually, Kayla turned back to the group.

“We have decided the picture is adequate.” She said, causing the group of demigods by the campfire to start up a halfhearted round of applause. Meg saw Miranda Gardener give her two thumbs up from her spot near the back.

And so, the Pictionary continued. Meg struggled her way through a depiction of Apollo’s part in the Iliad (All she knew was that he killed Achilles, anything beyond that was lost on her) Made what was probably a slightly offensive drawing of a baby Hermes stealing the red cattle, and spent about 30 minutes making an exact replica of Apollo’s sun chariot.

“It’s … surprisingly accurate?” Kayla said.

“There’s no way!” Sherman yelled from the audience, which was totally rude. “She has to have gotten something wrong!”

Meg had not, in fact, gotten anything wrong. Apollo picked her up on the weekends for, and Meg was quoting here, “Post-quest hangout extravaganzas”. He made sure the chariot was in its original form for the “Authentic experience”

Meg had long since accepted that her dummy was a complete nerd. At least it was helping her win Pictionary.

“All right, all right everyone calm down!” Malcom said, as Miranda put her hand over Sherman’s mouth to stop his complaining. Served him right. Meg though he was lucky he was dealing with Cabin 4’s most non-violent member.

“Meg, your last prompt is … Admetus.”

Meg grinned. She had this one in the bag. First, a drawing of Admetus himself. She made sure to make him appropriately dreamy, because that’s the main word Apollo used to describe him. Next, the cattle. (Meg couldn’t draw cows like she did horses, but she thought they weren’t that bad.)

Then, she drew Apollo for the fifth time that night. Since he was mortal, she just drew him as Lester, which made Kayla snicker behind her. Finally, she drew the grass. The plants hadn’t been important since the first picture, but Meg always drew them. Sue her, she was representing the Demeter cabin.

Still, as she stepped back to look over her work, Meg felt like something was missing. Maybe it was because Apollo being mortal was the part of his mythology she was most used to. She hemmed and hawed for a bit, before it hit her, and she rushed to finish her magnum opus.

Before, Meg had focused on keeping her drawing of the gods as non-offensive as possible. After all, you should never piss off Olympians for no reason. This man, however, was the clear exception. Meg drew frowny faces around him, giving him devil horns and evil eyes. She even added some extra Olympians around him to look on in horror. She brandished her expo marker like sword, drawing some wooshing lines to show heavy winds before backing off and letting all of the campers present see her wonderful picture of the myth of Admetus, complete with a villainous Zeus in the top right corner.

There was silence. Malcolm looked at the piece with horror in his eyes. Even stupid Sherman had been left speechless. Then, a voice.

"I love it.” Gracie said, her face alight with glee. She raised both hands and started clapping as loud as possible. Which, since she was a child of Apollo, was very, very loud.

Slowly, Kayla and Jerry joined. This led to Miranda joining the applause, followed by Billie, then the Hermes kids, until basically everyone other than Sherman was cheering and hollering with joy. The campfire burned high and bright, turning colors Meg had never seen from it before. She laughed, taking a silly little bow as Malcolm walked over.

“Good job.” He said, leaning down to speak quietly. “But, uh, do you think you can erase this before Chiron sees it?”

Meg froze. “You mean he doesn’t know?” The doors to the Big House slammed open, and the campfire immediately dimmed to near nothing. Meg turned back to her devilish drawing of Zeus, and gulped.

She really should have just stuck to the woods.

#toasecretsanta #literallyjusttoa #alyosita #meg mccaffrey #sherman yang #malcolm pace #kayla knowles #toa gracie #toa jerry #miranda gardiner #trials of apollo #toa #riordanverse #trials of apollo fanfic #toa fanfic #riordanverse fanfic

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what-gs-watching · 7 months

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“Saving people, hunting things…the family business.”

Alright. We’re gonna do it. We’re gonna talk about Supernatural. We can’t talk about ALL of Supernatural, that would be ridiculous, but it deserves a comfort show spotlight.

I’m going to admit it: I resisted for a long time. My husband used to stream a shit ton of tv, he needed something to fall asleep to, so in the past I’ve groggily slept through random episodes. And I didn’t really care about it.

I remember when it came out, I loved Jared from Gilmore Girls naturally but I never got into it. Honestly, I was really annoyed there was a character named Dean that wasn’t Jared, I’m a fickle bitch.

So it was whatever. But again, I lost all sense of everything during the pandemic and started binging. I went through all of the X-Files (even the newer seasons, I did it all, it was a thing). I went insane watching Fringe. I was devastated when I lost Peter Bishop, aka perfect New England boyfriend. And then Netflix really started flinging Supernatural at me. Like, really hard.

Last December, I was already spiraling with my job a bit, I can see that now. I was tired. And I needed something else to get lost in. TV was literally the only thing I had energy for. And there were 15 fucking seasons. That’s too many seasons. So I begrudgingly gave in, and I started it.

Y’all know what it’s all about: two brothers, Sam and Dean, are hunters (of monsters) because their mother was murdered by a demon when Sam was just a baby, and their father, John, couldn’t let it go. So he packed the boys up for life on the road, hunting the thing that had ruined his family, thrusting his kids onto a path they did not choose.

And I’m gonna be honest, I fought the whole way. I really did. I kept asking my husband what the eff was up with Sam and Dean. Just…why? I kept shouting at the screen that the two of them needed boundaries. But I also kept watching. I like a good Monster of the Week. And I’m a weirdo for overarching storylines. I like the lore, I do. Secret nerd, me.

And like I said, there’s no real way to talk about ALL of Supernatural, but that’s okay because it’s really about the little things for me.

The brotherness of it all Does Sam and Dean’s absolute and unwavering dedication to each other drive me nuts a little bit? Yes. They make so many stupid decisions to save each other - Sam with the demon blood, Dean selling his soul to save Sam, Dean with the mark, Sam jumping into the cage with Lucifer. There are literally probably hundreds of examples. It’s exasperating.

Dean thinks his entire existence is meant to protect Sam, I get it, he was conditioned that way, and Dean is basically the only thing Sam has left in the world, so it’s mostly mutual (except for that whole purgatory situation, he really didn’t try at ALL to find him? C’mon) but it’s also heartbreaking. John fucked up their lives, that dude was driven by the singular thought of avenging his wife, when he had a six month old and a four year old to take care of? Like, she’s dead my dude, but you have these two little fragile things you’re supposed to take care of and protect and foster, and this is the route you take? Fuck, man. I can’t imagine going through that.

Creating your own family Which leads me to Bobby. Crotchety, kind, beleaguered Bobby. Those boys needed an actual father figure and this weirdo stepped up so perfectly. He encouraged them and tried to guide them with a gentle hand - he knew those idjits would fuck it all up but he went along with them as much as he could, playing that parent game of trying to let them make their own choices as long as it wouldn’t destroy them. The episode where he’s fighting his reaper, trying to get away, and his last memory is an innocuous movie night with Sam and Dean? Tragic and sweet. I’m still mad my boy Bobby was done dirty, dying during one of the worst seasons (Leviathans, am I right?) but I appreciate their grief over losing him was real.

On the topic, I also have to say that I love the people Sam and Dean end up pulling into their orbit. Charlie was a fucking delight, and her bond with Dean was so pure; she was the little sister he never had and you can tell he let her in right away. When she says “I love you” and he just says “I know” it’s as far as Dean can go and it’s just good. I don’t think I could have forgiven Sam for getting her killed in a stupid plan he purposely kept from Dean. She agreed to help because she wanted to save her brother and she got murdered for it. Good deeds don’t go unpunished, gang.

Also, Jodie and Donna. In a show that doesn’t really seem to care about women at all, you get two badasses that can hold their own and won’t take any shit, and Sam and Dean acknowledge how strong they are. Out of all of the random spinoffs they tried over the years, theirs is the one I would have preferred to get lost in.

And, I’m gonna say it, Jack. I was ready to hate that little antichrist but he charmed the hell out of me. Mostly because of the ‘three men and a baby’ vibe, Dean and Sam and Castiel trying to rear that sweet summer child away from destroying absolutely everything and eventually, really really succeeding. I might be in the minority, but it was really satisfying. Jack is my babe, I’ll shout that shit from the rooftops.

Castiel Castiel is a whole thing, I know. And I love it. He gets his own category.

Sweet, complicated Castiel. I have a special place in my heart for Cas. And it’s not entirely because of the whole Destiel situation. That crazy angel had a big ol’ character arch and I truly appreciate it. Hated him in the beginning, and then that whole “assbutt” moment happened and he turned away from heaven and the great plan and toward humanity. And then a lot more drama, trying to rule in heaven and the leviathans, ending up as a human for a bit, his whole thing with Metraton, etc.

But Cas is important because Dean is long-suffering, always the one to lose and make the hard (sometimes stupid) choices and he’s so resigned to his fate but Castiel is the buoy in all that. He’s the only one fully committed to Dean. The episode where Dean forgets who he is and he stands in front of a mirror repeating ‘Sam is your brother, Cas is your best friend’ - of all the things Dean is and needs to remember, that’s important. Castiel raised him from perdition, searing him with the mark of his grip. They’re bonded.

I really love that Castiel gets to be his own thing a part from the boys, he grows so fucking much, but he’s also always Dean’s anchor. No matter how you feel about Destiel and the implications, the fact that Cas comes to understand humanity enough to say that just telling someone you love them without that being returned can be the best moment of your life, can be true happiness, is really something. Sometimes that is enough. Getting out of your own way can be enough.

I clearly have a thing for angels that can be a little bit of a bastard. I will ALWAYS root for Castiel.

Baby I’m not sure why I’m so charmed by the dedication to Baby, but I love it. It appeals to a very specific aesthetic in me. Of course that’s the kind of car they roll around in, perfectly old and beautiful, all sharp black lines and power and time. It’s Dean’s dedication to the family business and one of their only constants. He teaches Sam how to care for her, and he rebuilds her over and over. He even manages to pick her out in the first place, eventually. It’s sweet that Baby is home. She’s the heart, gang. Solid, strong, broken over and over again but always persisting.

The universe One of the best pieces of Supernatural is the universe it creates for itself. How adamant they’d been in the beginning that yeah of course demons exist, but God definitely doesn’t, but the random other gods found in lore throughout history do. It's so easy to change a universe that draws a line in the sand, and it just keeps getting bigger and more complex and silly and reckless.

I love the little touches. The fact that there’s a Supernatural book series, with an underground fan base enough to host a con (though I don’t want to get into the Chuck of it all, I’m still absolutely irate over all of that). Sam and Dean being so utterly embarrassed by them is hilarious, but it’s a way for them to get the recognition they deserve, even if it’s through fiction. People love those books, their story, and even if they never get thanked in real life, there are people out there believing in them.

I mean, the all girls’ school musical? Absolute perfection. That episode was meant to be a love letter to the entire thing, and it’s so perfect. Sam wonders why it isn’t “Samstiel”, and Dean is upset to learn about BM scenes, aka boy melodrama. The song girl-Cas sings, I’ll just wait here then… and their stripped down version of the boys’ unofficial anthem. It makes my tween heart sing, it satisfies my cravings for all things meta (jesus I’m basic). It’s just warmth and love and appreciation.

Frenemies AKA, unlikely and this-is-a-stupid-fucking-idea allies. All good shows need this. Crowley was never a true favorite of mine, but I appreciate that he saw how valuable keeping a tenuous relationship with the Winchesters could be. And I will still always and forever laugh at the fact that Dean was in his phone as ‘Not Moose’. One of my absolute favorite gags. Those two are perfectly Moose and Squirrel. His affection for the two of them proving that demons can be a little bit human, too. But that doesn’t get him off the hook for convincing Dean to take on the mark, even though I secretly enjoy their bromance once he does become a demon. Sometimes you need to have that friend you secretly kind of hate a little because they’re a dick, but they’re useful.

(Side rant: the Crowley/Crowley situation between Supernatural and Good Omens is making my brain bleed, I can’t make myself say it differently enough in my mind for there to be a good enough distinction because y’all, one is an obvious smash and one is an obvious pass. I’m just sayin’. It’s making it difficult to yell at the tv…)

Also. Rowena also falls into this category. Again, another strong woman in a room full of idiot men, holding her own. I’ve been that woman a lot of times, surrounded by boys who just can’t get their shit together and you stand and you watch and you help or hurt when you can, because at the end of the day. you need to be out for yourself. I respect the fuck out of her for looking out for herself. She was world weary because she had to be, she lived through hundreds of years of oppression and she was gonna get what was hers, but by the end, she came around to those boys. She’s the friend you keep at a distance because you’re never sure what the fuck they’re gonna do, but you can appreciate her seeming unpredictability because sometimes she uses it to help you, or thrust some unfortunate truth at you that you need to hear.

The point is: all of these little random things amount to something absurd and funny and gruesome and welcoming and silly and strange. And I could probably write ten different posts like this, pulling out more things that make Supernatural what it is, and that’s what makes it so all-encompassing.

So. I spent four months watching this show. Every day, some ridiculous Sam and Dean adventure. What were they gonna get up to? I never knew, but it was reassuring to know they’d always get out of it. It was my main comfort, and four months is a really long time.

When I got to the end of it, I was mired in yet another ridiculous work emergency and everything about me was fried. I was raw, fraying ends. So when I watched the finale, I sobbed. Like, really sobbed. Trying to take breaths I couldn’t quite make deep enough, while Dean was driving Baby and they were playing ‘Carry On My Wayward Son’. The episode ended and I kept crying. I went and found my husband and just cried at his face. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever watched the end of it or not and I tried pathetically to explain why I was crying so hard. I cried for everything that I was. It broke a dam I’d been holding in. And I felt stupid for it, who gives that much of a fuck about a show about hunting monsters?

But it wasn’t necessarily about the show, I mean it was a little bit, but it was also about me and whatever the fuck I was going through. And that’s what content is for. I’d wrapped myself in a Sam-and-Dean blanket for months to try and blunt a bunch of things, but they brought those things up to the surface anyway.

Feeling the real emotion of things through fake things. Is it healthy? Probably not, but it’s an art form, it’s a coping mechanism. I was crying about software and work melodrama and life frustration (can I still claim to be having a quarter life crisis if I’m in my 30s?), but also about Dean dying on the job in the way he’d always assumed he would, about Sam’s kid having the same tattoo, about Bobby being there at the end, about Sam being there at the end. It’s just easier that way.

All that to say, I can’t recommend the Sam-and-Dean blanket enough. It’s cozy and it’s sprawling and ridiculous and complete. I put it down for a month before yet another stupid thing happened to rattle me (so many things this year), and I knew right away where I needed to go. Back to the blanket. Which means I’m in the middle of my second watch. And I’m pretty sure, that at any point in time in the future, I’ll be in the middle of some rotation of it, even if I go off for months at a time. It’ll always be in the queue, because I know when I need it, there’ll always be an adventure I'm sure Sam and Dean will get out of.

#what g's watching #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel

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lululawrence · 1 year

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Hi! May I ask why you choose to send cards to people you don't even know? Do you pay for everything yourself?

lolll ya know, valid question. the first year i did it, i offered christmas cards only to my mutuals and they weren't homemade. i just bought some cute ones from target and mailed them off to the people in my group chats and mutuals from tumblr who saw my post and reached out. i had seen some other people offering cards to their mutuals the first christmas i was on tumblr, and i loved that idea so much i wanted to do the same, so i did.

after that first year, though, i had so much fun and had a decent amount of interaction with my blog even if i didn't really know who they were, i figured why not offer cards to everyone? no one has to take me up on it if they don't want to, if they aren't comfortable sharing their address, that's fine! they just won't sign up. i didn't know if there would be a big participation or anything, but i figured it was worth a try. i kinda stepped up my game that year and got some boxed handmade cards that are absolutely beautiful to send out. i still buy a box of those just in case something goes wrong and i run out of my own homemade cards now, so i have backup, because i love them.

more people than i expected signed up for the cards that year, and i had so much fun! it really took a time of year that is full of depression and anxiety and stress and worries for me and allows me instead to focus on other people. on helping others have some cheer during the holiday season. i've always been someone who believed that if i'm having a hard time, the best way to get through it is to turn my focus outward and instead find ways to help other people. so i continued!

i had wanted to try to make my own christmas cards, like i used to when i didn't have any kids and when my oldest was just a baby, but it took a few years to get to the point of being able to do that. it took a lot of work and was of course a much longer process, but i'm not really an artistic person. card making was something i felt like i could do decently well and was a bit more personal, you know? and again, it was a way that i could find joy during a time of year that is insanely difficult for me because it is just riddled with triggers. adding the making of the cards to the mix has meant that the last few years has been a big learning curve for me and i didn't get the cards out on time the last two years... maybe the last three hah but i TRIED and i still sent cards to everyone who asked one, even if they didn't get there until well into the new year haha

this year though you're all getting them on time as long as the postal services do what they're supposed to do haha!

as for paying for them, yes i pay for them all myself. since i purchase everything (except for the stickers i use, which are actually kind of stupidly difficult to find outside of Christmastime) only when they're on sale (usually buy one get one free or something) and use coupons on top of it, things don't really cost as much as they could. especially when you consider that i make over 100 cards using what i purchase, and then still have supplies left over so i can use them towards the cards i make next year too. basically, i spread out the purchasing of the items i use through the year as best as i can to make it more cost effective and less of a burden on our finances at christmas/birthday season in my house. i went a bit more simple with the cards this year compared to previous years because finances have been a lot tighter for us the last six months than what they have been even previously, and i couldn't really fill in the holes of what was missing after everything i made last year. but it was fine, i just figured out a design that would work using just what i already had in my supplies and voila! hehe

so yeah. long story short, i do it because it makes me happy during a difficult time of year for myself and as long as people are interested in cards from a stranger, i'll keep doing it. literally the only thing that could ever stop me is if i didn't have the money to buy the stamps to send them out or something. hehe

hope that helps, and happy holidays!

#asks #Anonymous

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kvtieansley · 25 days

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IMMORTAL LOVE; A Self-Para

Summary: After putting Maisie to bed for the night, Katie reflects on her husband's sudden passing.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Death, Car Accident Mentions

You used to captivate me by your resonating light Now, I'm bound by the life you left behind Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me

Home is where the heart is. That’s what Katie has always heard—and she’d tried to make her new Kismet Harbor beach house as much of a home as possible. She loved it, she really did. It was a cute two-story home settled right on the beach, so she had a gorgeous view of the water—and the way the sun arose like a golden medallion over it. No, Katie had zero complains about her current place of residence. She’d even argue that it was better than her apartment back in New York City.

So what’s a girl to do when her toddler’s asleep and she’s alone in this beautiful beachside home? Make a cup of tea, of course. Her mother-in-law had sent her a pink Keurig Mini for Christmas, but she’d signed the card with Erik’s name.

Erik. Oh, Erik…

It had been a year and six months since she’d last seen him on this side of earth. A year and six months since he’d last held her hand. Since she’d heard that sweet voice of his, with that British accent she always loved. Those blue eyes. That smile. It was all gone, only existing in the form of memories now. A beautiful part of Katie’s past.

As she was taking her mug off the drip tray, her gaze fell upon the fireplace mantel. In the middle sat a single wooden urn, with ‘In Loving Memory’ etched into it and ‘Erik Ansley’ underneath those three words. Two framed photographs flanked the urn, two which reflected exactly who he is—er, was.

To the right there was him and Katie at a Miami Dolphins game, to which she’d gotten him tickets for his 29th birthday. The way he was embracing her…God, he’d been so excited that day, like he was a little kid all over again.

To the left there was him and Katie at their gender reveal, just one week before his life ended. No forests had been harmed in the process: they simply cut a cake. And then her mom had insisted on getting a picture, so Erik had hugged Katie from behind and kissed her cheek, gently cradling her growing baby bump as the photo was snapped. He’d been so excited that they were going to have a daughter. ‘She’s gonna be a daddy’s girl,’ he said proudly. She would have been, baby. I know she would.

A shaky sight escaped Katie’s lips. She took a sip from her mug as she approached the makeshift memorial. Why did he have to be taken from her? Her mom had tried to comfort her by saying, ‘He’s with Jesus now.’ But was that really supposed to make her feel better? What kind of God takes a man from his pregnant wife and unborn child? The sad thing is that she’d actually had a lot of faith before, even after her Bipolar diagnosis. That hadn’t been enough to stop her from believing in God. But losing the love of her life, especially as she was carrying their child? That did it for her. She didn’t believe in anything anymore.

Truthfully, Katie would go back in time if she could, to when she and Erik first met. When he was still here and she had more years left with him. It had been nice, being so blissfully unaware of the tragedy yet to come. At the time, she’d dropped out of college a few months prior and was just starting to truly get her life on track. She had a nice apartment and a job she enjoyed, a waitressing position at a diner just up the street from her apartment building.

And then came that fateful day; she was working as usual when she was assigned to Erik’s table. It should have been just another interaction, until it became so much more. Katie was drawn in by his kind eyes and friendly smile, and the accent was highly intriguing. She’d always found British accents highly attractive; now there was a sexy, tattooed Brit who seemed genuinely interested in her. After her shift ended, she actually ended up sitting at his table with him and they wound up exchanging phone numbers after an hour—went on their first date a week later and the rest was history.

She took another sip of her tea as she gazed at the urn, which contained Erik’s remains. Her eyes filled with unshed tears, which she promptly blinked away. She hadn’t cried since that uniformed offer showed up on her doorstep. After that, she shut down all emotion, simply gliding through life without much feeling at all. It was easier to not feel anything, rather than letting the pain of her husband’s absence consume her.

God, that night. That one awful night in October 2022. Erik had done something he’d done countless times before. He went out with friends, while Katie had stayed home and begun organizing things for Maisie’s nursery. She’d been a little tired, too tired to venture out of the house that day. So she stayed home and began filling their little girl’s closet with the excessive amount of clothes she’d accumulated since learning they were having a little girl.

She got so into it that she actually lost track of time. By the time she looked at the clock again, it was midnight and Erik still wasn’t home. Katie tried calling his phone, yet didn’t get a response. Two more calls. Then three more. Ten more calls. No response. She began to feel a sense of panic, but she tried telling herself that his phone may have died and he was stuck in traffic. It was New York City, after all.

But then there was a knock on the door. Katie can still remember looking out the living room window and seeing red and blue lights outside. Then another knock on the door. This time she’d answered—and was met with a man in uniform, looking somber. And she immediately knew that Erik wasn’t coming home.

“There’s been an accident,” the officer told her, his voice disturbingly calm.

She’d barely managed to stay on her feet, gripping the door frame as a scream escaped her. The officer tried to comfort her, but there was no comfort. She eventually was told that he’d been struck by a drunk driver while driving through an interaction. He was pronounced dead at the scene, having been killed on impact. He most likely didn’t feel any pain; it was a quick death. If he had to leave, Katie was thankful that he didn’t suffer.

But God, he should still be here—with Katie and their little girl. He never got a chance to cut the umbilical cord or hold their daughter for the first time or kiss her little head. God, he would have been such a wonderful dad, but that was all taken away from him. He’d had an entire life left to live and yet he wasn’t here. Katie was forced to move on without him. But what if she didn’t want to?

A heavy sigh left her lips. She started to head into the living room, but then she heard a tiny voice coming from the baby monitor.

“Da da da daaaa…”

“What…” Katie murmured, sitting her cup on the kitchen counter and heading down the hallway until she arrived at Maisie’s bedroom door. Inside, the little girl was standing up in the crib, talking to something, or someone, that her mother couldn’t see.

“Da da? Da DA!”

Here came even more tears. Lovely. See, Katie believed in the paranormal for this exact reason. Her parents thought it wasn’t possible, being the skeptics they were. But to imagine Erik’s spirit roaming her home, watching her and Maisie? That was a kind of comfort she desperately needed. Just knowing that somehow, some way, he still had a presence in their home.

“Talking to your daddy, baby?” She asked softly as she approached the crib. Maisie instantly held out her arms, allowing Katie to carefully lift her up.

“Da da da…”

“Yeah? You’re talking to dada?”

“Daaaaa…”

Katie’s gaze danced around the room; she could feel Erik’s presence. Nevertheless, it was a painful reminder of what no longer was. Never again would they have late night talks in bed—where he’d play with her hair and she’d trace the tattoos on his arm with her finger. No more kisses. No more laughter. All those things were just memories now. Nothing more, nothing less.

The whole point of moving to Kismet Harbor was to start over, to perhaps forget about her life in New York. But with every day that passed, she learned more and more that the memories would always be fresh in her mind. She would be forever haunted by Erik’s memory.

She lived no kind of life now. She merely existed. Of course she’d fake otherwise, for Maisie’s sake. But once she was alone? The facade came crashing down and she realized she was no less miserable than she’d been the day she lost Erik.

“Daaa…” Maisie said softly, yawning as she laid her head on her mother’s shoulder. Katie held the little girl like her life depended on it, looking out the window at the moon and stars shining over the vast body of water.

Erik was among the stars now, shining bright over the world below.

Meanwhile, Katie was still here, drowning in her own personal hell.

A part of her died when Erik did, so now she existed in a world that he was no longer a part of. But someday the rest of her would join him on the other side. They would be together again.

Eventually.

#self para #death tw #car accident tw

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harrison-abbott · 3 months

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after being hit by that jeep

I was cycling on my bike and had gone through some green lights when about six seconds later this jeep came hurtling along the other way and I saw it for a millisecond and then I remember being spun up off my bike and I was in the air and I landed with a splat and my memory from there went blank.

One night in the hospital I woke up. Having no clue where I was or how I got there … and there were machines bleeping with small lights around me and I was in a small room. And plastic cords stuck to my body.

“Help!” I called out. This seemed a strong word to use. “Please help!”

It was like being a kid when you’re hurt and you don’t have the mental strength to deal with it. Shocked and numb; can’t fathom it.

I’ve always had a fear of needles and have hated stabbing scenes in films across my life, and with all these tubes and so on stuck in me I began to properly freak and I started yelling. My noise alerted a nurse. Who came whizzing in to the room. She was young and pretty and I remember a huge hole in her mouth when she saw me – and I reached my arms out to her when she came in, like babies do when they want to be held by somebody. But her face only spasmed, and then she turned and fled.

And five minutes later another woman came in to see to me.

It turned out that the man who was driving the jeep was some politician’s son. He didn’t hit and run. Which was the other reason why he didn’t go to jail for running me over. Or, driving in to me and throwing me into the air and leaving me with a cracked head.

Ever since the accident I’ve never been so good with maths. Do you know the basic things with maths, like when you’re dealing with money at the supermarket or whatnot? When figuring out the total bill – or the scarier bills with the heating and electricity, etc; those things I find real difficult these days.

The doctors told me there was no brain damage and that I was lucky that this was the case. But I’ve never been so good with mathematics since that day.

I suppose the only good thing is that I’ve never been as scared as when I woke up in the hospital. They had to give me a sedative to calm me known a bit because my whole body was shaking and I couldn’t snap off the adrenaline.

As for the politician? Well, the other political party used his son’s knocking-somebody-over as a way to damage his public esteem. This must’ve worked, considering that the other guy won the election that followed a few months down the line.

And then people would come up to me and say things like Haha, did you see that the boy’s Dad lost the election! Lol, it serves him right! But I didn’t share their schadenfreude. I used to be interested in politics when I was a kid but as I got into young adulthood I couldn’t think of a proper reason to be engaged with it anymore. Scandal and sleaze; most of them didn’t seem to care about anything. And I was glad that I didn’t die after being hit by that jeep. Though it’s sure annoying when I’m trying to count things up and I can’t do it so well because of that man’s son. Nor was there any apology from him for any of it.

#writeblr #creative writing #prose #writers on tumblr #stories #short fiction #tumblr writers #fiction #short story #spilled ink

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ishaablogs · 6 months

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"Resilient Echoes: Navigating Solitude and Overcoming Trauma"

Life is pretty hard for my family because my dad is a farmer and my mum is a maid, but I'm so proud to have such hardworking parents who always find a way to solve our problems and provide for us at home. It all began when my mum worked on this family for a few years, taking care of other children while my dad took care of me as a two-month-old baby. I grew up without her presence, but occasionally she would come home once a month. Growing up has been really difficult for me because I live with my mother, who works for a family, and I was sad when I started preschool. I basically learned a lot from my mother about how to cook, clean, and interact with others from her, and sometimes I even help her out by helping to clean or watch the other kids. So even though I'm only a child, I have to act mature because if I make even the smallest mistake, either my mother or the people who own the house will discipline me, which will embarrass me and hurt my feelings. Since they always believe they are correct, they woke you up at six in the morning and told you not to act like a seniorita in this house. I mean, as a child, I have no idea how to think much because I'm just a child who loves to play sometimes. I believe that helping my mother is insufficient, therefore I suppose that when I turned seven, I was in first grade. I am overjoyed to be living with my dad and three brothers once more after my mother advised me to change schools, presumably because she didn't want to watch me suffer in that home. But elementary school is really difficult because no one can help me. My brothers are too lazy to come to meetings or teach me things about school, and my dad works a lot on a farm to make ends meet. As a result, I was pretty much alone in grade one and didn't have any friends. I repeat grade one because I can't read, but after a year, I think I've improved enough to go to grade two. Although grade two went smoothly, my teacher's haircut of my hair, which I will never forget, was really painful since it prevented me from seeing my bangs in front of my classmates. She literally clipped the portion that shouldn't have been trimmed.

To sum up my life's events, I've met a lot of strict people who don't think things will get better, I was betrayed by my former best friends who were jealous of me even though I had the best of intentions for them, and finally, I'm finding it difficult to continue my education financially when your family doesn't contribute any money to it.

I have no control over how other people perceive me, yet those closest to me are the ones that know me the best, and some people form opinions about me based on the opinions of others. That being said, here is who I am and this is my story.

THE END.

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looooooooomis · 3 years

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FINAL GIRL | FIVE

You were his final girl. And there was no chance in hell that anyone or anything was going to mess that up.

p a r t five | t h e c a b i n (part I)

masterlist here

pairing: Billy Loomis x f!reader word count: 5.6k (I’M SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY) warnings: s m u t (18 +!!!!!)

A/N: after 8 months of MIA, SHE’S BACK BABY!!! this is part 1 of 2 of our fav couple being at the cabin x next chapter will have soft moments I promise lmao

You should have been paying more attention.

If you’d been paying more attention, you wouldn’t have had five sets of eyes currently watching your every move, waiting for an answer you didn’t have. Why had you thought it was a good idea to stay up as late as you had packing your overnight bag for the cabin? If you had gone to bed at a reasonable hour, you wouldn’t have been as braindead as you currently were and, if you hadn’t been braindead, you wouldn’t have wound up in whatever ring of hell you were currently stuck in as your friends stared at you as though you’d grown a second head.

You pleaded with your tongue to say anything, pleaded for your brain to register a decent enough lie to make this uncomfortable silence end but nothing came out of your mouth. Only a pathetic hum and a gusto of forced laughter.

You wanted to die.

It should have been an easy enough answer to what was an even easier question. One that you’d practiced answering for the last two days and yet, as the moment for the lie came and went, you were left scrambling like a fucking moron.

You didn’t dare look at Billy as Sid curled into his side knowing if you managed to catch his coffee-coloured stare, you’d only be met with something between terror and amusement as you royally shit the bed. So, instead, you did the next best thing. You replayed the question over and over again in your head until you were driven mad.

‘Are you up for a movie this weekend?’

It was a simple enough question, one you’d managed to decline easily enough but, as Tatum frowned and asked the one question you were expecting to hear, your mind went blank.

‘Why? What are you doing?’

The answer you were supposed to say: I have to babysit my cousin in Santa Rosa all weekend. The answer they got? Silence. Pure, awkward as fuck, silence.

“Earth to Y/N,” Tatum laughed, brows furrowing. “Are you alive?”

“Sorry,” you huffed out a quiet laugh and shook your head, “I barely slept last night, I’m braindead.”

While it wasn’t a lie, you were still on edge. You’d think after months of sneaking around with the asshole sitting in front of you that you would have chilled out a little more but not today. Maybe it was the nerves of a full weekend away with Billy Loomis as his girlfriend hosted a fucking movie night sans her boyfriend and best friend – but something was making you stumble over what should have been second nature to you.

“You feeling okay?” Sid, the angel she was, asked with a small frown. Your stomach twisted in the familiar way it always did when your sweet friend showed concern. Concern which you most definitely didn’t deserve. “You seem…off.”

It would have been so easy to confess your dark little twisted affair with Billy right then and there. To just open your mouth and let the truth of everything you’d been doing behind her back play out. But you knew it would break her heart and, more than that, you were a fucking coward.

“I’m fine, Sid,” you smacked on a small smile and leaned into your locker. You had one more class until you were home free. Free of your friends’ inquiring eyes, free of Biology, free of Woodsboro. If you managed to get through this incredibly uncomfortable moment. “And I would if I could, trust me. I have to babysit my little cousin in Santa Rosa.” You feigned disappointment with a small frown. You could see Stu’s lips tug up in mild amusement out of the corner of your eye. “She’s nine, so if I don’t come back on Monday, know that she annoyed me to death.”

Randy scoffed and casually threw his arm around your neck. “Every day I’m thankful I don’t have any snot-nosed kids in my family. Losing my weekend to babysit? I’d rather rot.”

Despite your guilt, you managed a small smile as you looked across at him. “I think the kid would rather you rot, too. You’d be a terrible babysitter.”

“She’s right,” Tatum smirked, “you’d show the kid one of your weirdo movies where a girl with big tits is running helplessly away from her killer. It’d scar the kid for life.”

“Or,” Randy mused, “prepare them for the real world. Put some hair on their chest and all that shit.”

“Furthering my point, Meeks, you’d be a shit babysitter.” You laughed. “But, yeah, I’ll be suffering at the hands of a nine-year-old, so you guys have fun without me.”

“How about you, lover boy?” Tatum asked, looking across at Billy. “Will you be joining us this weekend?”

You should have averted your eyes. Should have done anything besides wait, with bated breath, to see what Billy would say. Slowly, those brown eyes tapered over towards you just briefly before looking at Tatum. With a casual shrug of his shoulders, Billy shook his head and leaned into Sid. “Can’t,” he merely said, “I’m going up north with my dad. He wants to get some of his affairs in order or something, I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “All I know is I was promised free beer if I helped him. So, I’m helping him.”

If Sid caught onto his lie, her face didn’t betray her once. And, as she looked up at her boyfriend with doting eyes, you couldn’t help but feel that pang of shame slice into your gut once again. She believed him. She always believed him. Believed you. Regardless of how good it felt to have Billy, that shame of knowing just who it was unwittingly hurting in the process never dissipated.

“You sure you guys won’t need help?” Sid asked, further digging that knife of shame into your chest. “Besides this movie, I’ve got nothing else going on this weekend.”

“Real nice,” Randy teased. “She’d rather watch Billy’s dad punch away at a fucking calculator then sit down with her nearest and dearest.”

Billy ignored Randy entirely as he glanced down at the brunette. “I’m sure,” he affirmed, giving her a quick squeeze. “Enjoy the movie night. I’ll be there for the next one.”

He lied so effortlessly, so casually, that it should have unnerved you. But it didn’t. Because for as good of a liar Billy Loomis was, you were right here with him. This dangerous little game the two of you were playing was becoming second nature to you and for as much as it pained you to see Sidney get lied to, you couldn’t help yourself.

You loved Billy. Billy loved you. Right person, wrong time. Only rather than wait like you knew you should have, Billy’s glow was much too enthralling to miss. You were both moths to each other’s’ flames and no amount of guilt or shame was strong enough to outweigh the otherworldly affliction the two of you had for one another.

The bell signifying your final class rung out, snapping you out of your brief reverie as you blinked and focused on pushing Randy off of you. “Want to drive me to the bus station?” You asked him. “I don’t want to drive all the way to Santa Rosa, so I bought a bus ticket.”

“Tonight?” Randy considered it briefly before shrugging. “Sure, I guess. I’ve got a shift tonight at seven, though. When’s your bus leave?”

“Six thirty,” you lied, mainly doing this so that should anyone drive by your house this weekend and see your car still neatly parked in your driveway, they wouldn’t bat an eye. “I owe you.”

“Yeah, you do,” Randy agreed. “And, lucky for you, I accept a lot of different payment options.” He wriggled his brows, earning a playful smack from you and an annoyed glare from Billy. Thankfully, Randy didn’t catch onto the latter. “Pick you up at six?”

You nodded. “Perfect.”

With your eyes flickering to Billy’s once more, you managed to shoot everyone a quick smile before disappearing down the hall towards Biology. Just how you’d managed to dance your way out of what could have been an incredibly awkward moment, you didn’t know. But as you felt that weighty stare of Billy’s on your back as you walked away, there was an air of excitement that swallowed you whole.

No matter how much guilt you felt, no matter how sick it made you to see Sidney get hurt, even if she didn’t quite know about just yet, there was a much larger part of you that couldn’t wait to get Billy alone.

Because for the first time in the seven months since you’d started this torrid little affair, you were finally getting Billy all to yourself. No prying eyes, no secret kisses, no having to hide every part of your relationship with the man. None of that.

This weekend, it was you and it was Billy.

And you couldn’t fucking wait.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Randy, being the superstar he was, had dropped you off at the station a little after six-fifteen and by six-thirty-two, just around the time the actual bus was leaving for Santa Rosa, you were scrambling into Billy’s car with a wild grin on your face.

Just how the pair of you had managed to pull it off, especially given your brain lapse earlier in the day, was beyond you. But, as Billy tore off down the main street leading to the freeway, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of freedom engulf you the farther and farther you got from town.

It was exhilarating.

And, as you glanced at Billy, who couldn’t have looked more like a movie star with his dark locks blowing with the wind cascading in through his open window, you couldn’t help but reach across the divide to gently squeeze his jean-clad thigh.

“Thank you,” you found yourself muttering and as those brown eyes met yours, you couldn’t help but grin. “For your stupid key proposal. In hindsight, it was very sweet.”

The dimple in Billy’s cheek deepened as his own grin grew. “Glad you let me steal you away?”

You loosened your seatbelt momentarily and leaned across to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Very glad.” You made a move to pull away but stopped when he gently grabbed your chin with the hand not holding the wheel. “What—”

The kiss, while dangerously stupid, was short and sweet but the emotion behind it, the genuine happiness that exuded out of Billy in those few seconds was palpable. “I really do fucking love you, you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it,” you hummed and slinked back into your seat. When his large hand found your thigh, he gave it a firm squeeze that sent shockwaves throughout your whole body.

“Not going to say it back?” He teased, giving you a sidelong glance as he drew nearer to the freeway.

“I’d rather show it.” Rather than put your seatbelt back on, you shimmed in your seat and leaned into him as your fingers scraped along his thighs towards the button of his jeans. “Eyes on the road, Loomis.”

Easier said than done, Billy thought, torn between watching the road and watching you unzip his jeans. Raising his ass out of the seat just long enough to allow you to tug his pants down his thighs, the second Billy saw yours eyes light up as his now somewhat erect cock sprung free of his jeans, keeping his eyes on the road seemed impossible. But, the second he saw that pretty mouth of yours perk up in anticipation, it was game over. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

A low chuckle escaped your lips as you began to pump his length with your hand. “Focus on the road, Billy.”

“You say that like it’s easy.” Not being able to keep his hands off of you, he reached for your nipple and gave it a pinch through your shirt. “Take your shirt off, baby.”

“Shut up and drive.” You chided him, shimming in your seat so that you were on your knees leaning over the console. His cock was rock hard now and, as you ran your tongue alongside his length, from the base of it all the way up to coax your tongue along the precum that had gathered along his head, you felt him shiver beneath you.

“Fuck,” he hissed, tangling his fingers through your hair. You were too fucking good with that mouth of yours.

Still pumping the base of his cock with one hand, you swirled your tongue along the tip of his dick again before taking that perfectly girthy cock in your mouth. His grip tightened on your hair and your eyes watered as he pushed your head down to fully take the length of him inside of your mouth. He heard you gag on him but even as his grip eased up, you continued your pursuit of deepthroating him.

His breathing was shallow as he felt your hot mouth all over him. Between the sounds of your wet mouth taking him in and the occasional gag as you choked on his length, Billy was in heaven.

But having you this close as you fucked him with your mouth whilst still fully clothed was killing him. He needed to feel you. He wanted to feel your juices on his fingers and running down those perfect fucking thighs as he fingerfucked you. He wanted to hear you moan, feel you moan on his cock as he made you feel as good as you were making him feel.

He wanted all of you, needed all of you.

Trying his damnedest not to shut his eyes as your mouth brought him closer to the edge, he reached beneath you to work on your own zipper but when that proved to be impossible, a frustrated growl tore out of his lips. “Undo your pants.” He hissed through bared teeth.

You hummed against his dick which nearly sent him into the other land of traffic. “No,” you purred, “I want to make you feel good.”

With one hand on the wheel and the other now gliding up and down your back as you fucked him with your mouth, Billy couldn’t help but buck into your mouth as you began to massage his balls. He was going to bust and soon if he wasn’t careful.

You were too fucking good and he was too fucking in love with you not to get lost in the way you made him feel.

“Touch yourself, at least,” he breathed out, desperate to see that pretty cunt. “Please, baby.”

Not granting him the satisfaction, you simply dug your nails into his thighs and moaned onto his cock and the sensation of it alone was almost enough to make him come down your throat. It seemed to slither around his cock, making him twitch and buck into your mouth.

But it was the second you moaned out his name as you swirled your wet mouth along the head of his dick one final time, swallowing back his precum with a contented hum, that Billy blew his loud inside of your mouth.

For a good five seconds, he didn’t care if he crashed the goddamn car as he watched you swallow his seed. He was bucking into your mouth, his breathing was ragged, as you guzzled him back and, as you finally released his cock with a pop, Billy almost lost it.

With a devilish grin, you simply wiped a finger along the edge of your lips and leaned back into your seat with a satisfied glimmer in your eyes. You knew you’d be in for it once he got his hands on you at the cabin, but for now, as you watched him lamely try and pull his jeans up his body to cover his slowly softening cock, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s the matter, Billy?” You teased, fastening your seatbelt back up. “You look a little rattled.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he simpered, not bothering with the zipper or button of his jeans. Instead, he reached across the divide and grabbed for your hand as he ghosted his lips across your knuckles. “Just wait until we get to the cabin.”

With your suspicions confirmed, you couldn’t help but beam across at him as you drove further and further away from Woodsboro. That was definitely a threat and good god were you excited for its execution.

»»-------------¤-------------««

By the time you’d pulled into the Loomis family cabin, it was pitch black outside.

The moon was too high in the sky and only a sliver of its light poked through the tall pine trees that surrounded the small house but, even with the low light surrounding you, the shadows that danced along the lake was enough to bring out a small smile as you quietly made your way out of the car. You didn’t need full sun to see the beauty surrounding you and the smell of the fresh air mixed with the spice of pine made any ounce of nerves filter out of you.

You were happy.

Unreservedly so.

Glancing across the roof towards Billy, he seemed almost distracted as he looked around at the familiar surroundings. You couldn’t quite tell if he was feeling as happy as you were in those brief moments, but you couldn’t quite blame him for that. The cabin held a lot of memories within it, many of which you knew included his mother. Where you felt freed and excited, you could tell the weight of his current whereabouts was heavy on his shoulders.

“Hey,” you muttered, slicing into the quietude around you. Walking around the front of the car, those brown eyes found yours as you circled your arms around his middle. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he assured, but his voice was low and distant. All the same, however, his strong arms enveloped you as he kissed your hairline. “Lost in a memory, I guess.”

You nodded into the crook of his neck but said nothing. He needed time to decompress, to familiarize himself with a house he hadn’t been in since his mother left. So, you’d give him that time.

For what must have been minutes, the two of you simply stood at the helm of porch holding onto one another. It wasn’t until Billy placed another quick kiss to your forehead that you felt his arms slowly fall only to grasp your hand in his own. “Come on,” he hummed. His grip on your hand was firm as he walked up the steps leading to the wrap around porch and as he stuck the key inside of the lock and opened the front door, the smell of cedar surrounded you.

The cabin was gorgeous. Wooden slats covered every square inch of the small house and a small fireplace sat at the front of the house with a worn-in couch and chair facing it. It was obvious nobody had come to visit for quite some time judging by the dust lining most of the countertops and shelving units, but you didn’t care.

To you, it was perfect.

Your own little oasis with the boy you loved without any sort of outside interruption.

You released his hand to take a brief look around the small living space but you could feel his eyes on you with every step you took. You knew he was looking to get even with you after your little stunt in the car, but you also knew that he hadn’t quite been expecting the swell of emotions to hit him upon driving up to the cabin. So, you continued to wander around the cabin to both grant him the space he may or may not have needed and, simply, to snoop around.

There were family pictures lining the tables and one in particular made you smile as you caught sight of a young Billy swinging from a tire swing. With a quiet laugh, you picked the frame up and surveyed it with a fond smile on your lips. “Cute,” you remarked, looking across to catch his stare. “A little model, eh?”

Billy watched you carefully place the frame down on the table before continuing on with your self-guided tour. No matter how hard he tried, regardless of the bittersweet memories swirling around inside of his brain, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Not that he ever really could, but there was an ease rolling off of you tonight, coming off of you in waves, that drew him in.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week, you know that?” He remarked, leaning against the back of the couch as he watched you pick up another picture frame. “Just me and you. Out here alone in the woods for an entire weekend.”

“Sounds like a scary movie when you put it that way,” you goaded with a wink. “Or a really niche porno.”

“Why not a bit of both?” His molasses coloured eyes glimmered mischievously as you walked up to him and stepped between his legs. The second you were close, he pulled you flush against his chest and kissed the tip of your nose as he pushed your hair back and away from your face. “Both could be fun.”

You grinned. “I’m down for anything,” you shrugged. “So long as you promise to take me on an actual date tomorrow. We’re not just fucking like bunnies inside of the cabin all weekend.”

“Heaven forbid,” he leaned in and gave you a slow, torturous kiss.

“I’m serious, Billy,” you moaned.

Pulling away from your mouth, Billy nudged his nose against yours and nodded. “The entire population in Bumfuck, California will know you’re my girl by the end of the weekend,” he avowed, skimming his hands down to your ass to give it a firm squeeze. “I promise.”

“Oh, yeah?” You hummed, kissing him again.

His calloused hands slipped beneath your shirt and scraped up your side. “Yeah.” Digging his hips into yours, he gave you one last kiss before nodding towards the bedroom. “Take your clothes off.”

You giggled as he slapped your ass to steer you down the narrow hallway. “And if I don’t?”

“I’ll rip them off of you,” he simply said, “so either they remain in one piece or I ruin your outfit.”

You glanced down at your jeans and tank before frowning. You looked cute tonight and you’d be damned if the bastard ripped them. So, being the good girl you were, you held his stare and slowly slinked out of your clothes. His eyes seemed so much darker as he watched you strip and the small smirk he wore slowly fell into a hungry thin line as you then perched yourself on the edge of the bed, completely nude.

“You just going to stand there looking pretty or are you going to do something about this?” You slipped your fingers between your thighs and ran your fingers along your swollen clit. A low moan slipped out of your lips at the sensation. “I’m already so wet for you, Billy.”

Slowly, Billy stepped towards you and undid his belt. Leaning down, he kissed you, hard, and steered you backwards on the bed beneath you until your head reached the soft pillows. You could feel his cock straining against his jeans but rather than grant himself any sort of reprieve, you watched him gently grasp your hands and raise them above your head only to wrap his belt around your wrists.

In the blink of an eye, you were tied to the bedposts.

“Is this payback for the car blowie?” You laughed, looking up at your restrained wrists. “If it is, I can’t say I’m mad about it.”

“You wanted something between a horror movie and a niche porno, remember?” He hummed against your skin, placing sloppy kisses along the vein that ran along your neck as he pinched your nipple. “God, you’re fucking perfect. You know that?”

He bit down on your collarbone, kissing his way down your chest until his warm mouth wrapped around your nipple. You could feel his teeth slither along your breast as his tongue lapped expertly on the sensitive bud. You hissed, arching into his mouth as your wrists, on instinct, fought for freedom. “Hardly.”

His eyes met yours as he slowly released your nipple. You were in nothing, of course, but he was still fully clothed, and you hated him for it. You hungrily eyed the bulge in his jeans as he propped himself up on his arm, letting his other hand glide up your chest and neck until it cupped your cheek. His nose brushed against yours, nudging it up to allow his lips to hover just over yours. Close enough that you could almost taste them, but much too far away to satisfy the hunger you had for the man.

“I love you,” he whispered, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek as his warm, brown eyes swallowed you up. “You know that, right?”

“Yes,” you swallowed hard and tilted your head up just enough to finally catch his lips. But, just as quickly as it happened, the man pulled away and let his hand begin to roam down your body. His mouth was at your ear now, nibbling at your earlobe as his hot breath slithered against your neck. You shivered. “I love you, too.”

His voice was gruff in your ear. “I’d kill for you,” his hand continued its journey down your throat, brushing past your nipple, down the length of your stomach until reaching the small smattering of hair along your mound. He was careful to keep his hands from dipping any lower, tormenting you as best to his ability, which just about killed you, if you were being honest. “You know that?”

Bucking your hips up, you nearly growled at the lack of attention you were receiving. You were soaked and touch-starved for him. His fingers, his mouth, the erection currently poking into your thigh, anything. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” you managed a quiet laugh. “But I appreciate it.”

His teeth bit down on your neck again. “But, I would. I’d do anything for you, sweetheart.”

His hand slipped further down to your sopping cunt and as he slowly slipped his fingers through your wet folds, the moan he got in return nearly killed him. “Billy,” you whispered desperately. It felt as though you were going to die if you didn’t feel him inside of you. “Please.”

His lips hovered over yours and on instinct, you caught his bottom lip between your teeth and bucked your hips against his hand. He snarled as you bit down on his lip but as the metallic taste of blood met his tongue, it was as though Billy was transcending. His pace on your clit quickened but it was still too slow for you and he knew it. He was torturing you, killing you, and he was enjoying every second of it. Struggling against the belt, your struggle was all for naught as it didn’t so much as move an inch.

“You’d love me, no matter what, right?” He asked, slipping one of his fingers inside of you as he kissed his way down to your chest. Lapping at your nipple, Billy was gentle at first before biting down hard enough to draw blood. Tit for Tat.

“Yes,” you moaned. Your entire body was on fire as his fingers brought you closer to the edge. “But I’d love you even more if you fucked me. You’re killing me, Loomis.”

Licking up the small trail of blood off of your tits, Billy hummed against your nipple and added another finger inside of your pussy. He’d fuck you soon but right now, he needed to feel your entire body light up the way it always had when he drove you into that fit of madness. You were a woman unhinged in the bedroom, he knew as much, and he knew exactly how to get that animal inside of you out.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he admired, reaching his hand up to coat your tit in your own slick. When it was sufficiently wet, he licked your juices off of your breast and growled. God, you tasted so fucking good. “You’re my girl, Y/N, you’re always going to be my girl, right?”

You looked up at him as those words fell from his lips. His brown hair hung down his forehead, his neck red from the strain of having to watch you writhe beneath him without doing a damned thing about it. But what struck you was the look of vulnerability in those brown eyes. That longing, far-away look as his eyes searched yours.

He wanted nothing more than to hear you say that you wanted him. Needed him. Just as much as he needed you.

“Always,” the answer tumbled out of your lips before you so much as thought twice. “I’m your girl, Billy.”

His mouth caught yours in a bruising kiss. Finally, his pace quickened inside of you as met your throbbing core with his dept fingers. With his thumb circling your clit, he dipped two fingers inside of you and grinned against your mouth as you let out a low, desperate moan.

It happened so fast after that. One moment, you were the one tied up on the bed and the next, he’d released you, stripped himself naked, and managed to flip you over so that you were the one on top of him, straddling his waist. Pulling away from you mouth, Billy’s eyes darkened as he saw that familiar glimmer in your eyes. That animalistic side of you was out in full force now.

“Get up here.” He demanded.

You smirked and leaned across him so that your lips hovered over his. “Why would I want to do that?”

He leaned up, the veins in his neck swelled against his neck as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth. “Get. Up. Here.”

Releasing your lip, Billy watched you smirk and crawl up the remainder of his body until your pussy was less than an inch away from his mouth. Grabbing onto the metal of the headboard you’d just been tied up to, you gasped as Billy’s tongue slid into your folds. Finding your clit instantly, you moaned and allowed your eyes to fall shut as you reached down to play with your hardened nipples.

Fuck, what Billy could do with his mouth should have been illegal.

He sucked and lapped at your clit as you rocked back and forth against his mouth. His fingers dug into your hips, so much so that you knew there would be bruises in the morning but, blinded by the pleasure between your thighs, you couldn’t care less.

The moans that were coming out of you were raw and guttural and, as you played with your own tits, envisioning his hands being the ones to squeeze and nip on the swollen buds of your nipples, you saw stars.

“Fuck,” you moaned out, “Billy, baby, fuck.”

He pulled your hips further down so that you were sitting on his face. Not just hovering but sitting on that perfect mouth of his as he held you in place. You knew it must have been hard for him to breathe but he was adamant and as his tongue continued its assault on your throbbing cunt, you came devastatingly hard and incredibly loud.

Stars danced behind your eyes as you continued to ride out your orgasm. When you couldn’t take another second of Billy’s skilled tongue, you climbed off of him only to feel his large hands take hold of your hips again.

Swinging you around so that you were on your back and he was the one hovering over you, Billy wasted no time in slipping his rock-hard erection into your soaking pussy.

He was thrusting hard and the sounds of your juices squelching with every thrust of his cock would have been off-putting if it hadn’t been for the raw, primal need coursing off of the pair of you in waves. He was kissing your lips and biting them and suckling your neck as he continued to rail into you with all of passion in the world. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen him this riled up and you had to admit it was inherently sexy seeing him so affected by you.

Not surprising in the least, it didn’t take him long to come. You’d riled him up to the point of no return in the car and, as you felt him come inside of you, you all but laughed when he dramatically crashed on the bed beside you.

Sweat glistened over every inch of body and the sheen of your juices was still on his lips as he kissed you. This kiss was slow, methodical. Sweet. And you felt yourself fall even harder for the man as he broke the kiss and gently brushed your hair away from your now damp forehead.

Wrapping one arm around your chest, Billy held you against him as he propped himself against the headboard. You were both naked and sweating and while a shower was something you both definitely needed, neither of you found yourselves all too willing to move out of the other’s embrace.

“Is it hard being back here?” You asked, listening to his heart beating in his chest.

“For a second, maybe,” he admitted, soothing your hair down. “Not now.”

“What’s changed?” You asked with a small smile. “The sex was that good, huh?”

A quiet chuckle shook his chest as he kissed the top of your head. “I think horror meets niche porn is my new favourite genre.”

Kissing his naked chest, you grinned into his body. “Same.”

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4-horsemen-of-the-riordanverse · 3 years

Text

Why The Percy Jackson Adaptation Should Be Animated

We can have Heroes of Olympus/Trials of Apollo/Magnus Chase series

Percy shows up in four of Rick’s five (at this time) mythology series, those four series have eighteen books spanning six years

Even if Disney could crank out say three in two years, that’s still twelve years, the actors playing Percy, and Annabeth, and Grover, and Thalia, and Clarisse, and many more will be in their twenties when all the books are covered and that’s on a sped up timeline that is unlikely to work in reality

The reality is, we probably won’t get a Heroes of Olympus television series and we definitely won’t get a Trials of Apollo or Magnus Chase series, which is sad as many favorite characters won’t be seen

Grover, Thalia Chiron, and the Gods won’t age

Yes, technically Grover does age, so that title is a bit of a misnomer, but he ages slower than the others, either the whole he’s actually twenty-eight, but satyrs age slower will need to be axed, or he will have to be played by an adult so that he doesn’t age, which will look strange since he’s suppose to look fourteen/fifteen for the entire series

Grover is only a small problem though, how are they going to deal with Artemis or Hestia, both of whom are portrayed as very young ages, the twelve year old playing Artemis will be fourteen, minimum (though, if we want good cgi, she’ll be more likely around sixteen) by the time the show reaches The Last Olympian

Plus, Thalia is suppose to stop aging at fifteen, again, I suppose an adult could play her, it isn’t unheard of for adults to play fifteen/sixteen year olds, but unless they get an actor with a serious baby face, she’ll stand out amongst the children and teens playing the other characters

It’ll be bearable to watch in ten years

Cgi is improving everyday, which is great....until you watch something that’s more that a few years old, when we have newer and better cgi, the monsters and action of Percy Jackson is going to look....well we’ll remember that it looked good once

That is, if they pay attention to details, skimming over detail, especially when making living things with cgi, you risk falling into the uncanny valley (I’m most of us have seen at least a clip of Lion King 2019), if something is off, we will notice, even if we can’t place why

We can have it sooner

Animation for animated series are easier to make than animation for live action series, they don’t have to worry about matching the lighting and shadows because they get to choose the lighting and shadows, no need to worry how the actors are interacting with the animated monster (ex. the Percy actor bumps into Mrs. O’Leary, then goes to pet her, but moves his hand too far forward and now that has to be accounted for)

The battles will probably cause the most delays, anyone watch Game of Thrones? remember how long the final season took to get out? that was because of the major battles spanning multiple episodes, which is exactly what The Last Olympian will be

They wouldn’t have to use child actors

This isn’t a bash on child actors, there are some good ones out there, what I’m concerned about is the children’s well being

Ever read or watch an interview from an ex child actor, especially Disney child actors, it’s brutal and takes a toll on their mental health, there’s even instances where the child doesn’t want to act, their parents are forcing them to

If on the extremely rare chance someone from the Percy Jackson crew is reading this please: let the kids play when they aren’t filming, don’t make them feel guilty for eating, shield them from the inevitable criticism that always comes with an adaption, take care of them, very few people do these things and kids get messed up from that

It’ll be easier to relate to the characters

Acting just doesn’t doesn’t have the same feel as animation, especially when the actors are new to acting

Acting is obvious, we ignore that it is because that’s how you watch live action, but rarely will it ever not feel like people repeating back lines they memorized, that the expressions are calculated and filmed 20 times over to get it right

Animation doesn’t have that, characters feel real, not like they’re acting because they aren’t, making it a lot easier to relate to them

None of the fight scenes will have to be cut

These are children playing these characters, obviously fights scenes are going to be cut and the ones kept are going to be simplified, these kids will probably have limited fighting experience and even if they don’t, they can’t hire children to play stunt doubles for safety reasons, so they won’t do anything too risky

Just imagine the fight scene between Ares and Percy in The Lightning Thief, they’ll probably hire a bigger guy to play Ares, comparing that to tiny Percy, the battle is probably going to look more like a dance number with every movement scripted as to keep Percy’s actor safe

It supports social distancing

Social distancing is still important and animation is easier to do social distanced

We could see every part of camp, not just the parts they built sets of

Camp is big and fantastical and probably will be barely shown, that’s a lot of set to build, so they probably won’t see it all

The big house, interior of the Poseidon, Athena, and Hermes cabins, and the mess hall will most likely be made, but the lava wall? the forge? doubtful

It’s easier to replace actors

Like I mentioned before, there are 18 books if they were willing to make them all, even if /magnus Chase and Kane Chronicles were made along side instead of in between, a lot of actors, especially child actors, don’t want to be stuck playing a character for that long

while no one shows up in ever book, some characters get dropped and brought back, which when being adapted causes actors to be replaced, the actor playing Will in The Last Olympian will probably not be the actor playing Will in Blood of Olympus (that is, if they even make Heroes of Olympus)

They won’t have to sacrifice the small details

Wouldn’t it be cool to have a Nico and Bianca cameo in the Lotus scene? won’t happen, what about characters slowly getting more scars after each battle to symbolize the trauma half-bloods carry with them? Luke will probably be the only character with a scar, see a background character that resembles minor characters like Drew or Kayla or Castor and Pollux? that’s not going to happen

Small details that make the story will be tossed to the side, mostly because it isn’t feasible in live action, I think the Lotus scene is the best example, seeing Nico and Bianca there in the background would be so cool, but they don’t age in the Lotus hotel, and it’ll take probably 14 to 18 months to make a season, let’s say 14 months for now, that’s over two years between their cameo and they’re actual appearance, a very obvious difference when discussing 10 and 12 year olds

All in all, this is just in my opinion and preference

Will I still watch if it’s live action, of course, it’s Percy Jackson

It won’t be as good as something animated and I’m sad I’ll never see some of my favorite characters on the big screen, but at least we’ll be getting a decent adaptation

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ellsbclls · 3 years

Note

you write hurt/comfort so beautifully, it makes me want to have tom comfort me like that ): do u think you could write something where he's taking care of you after a long day at work?? and if it's a little nsfw i wouldn't mind but u dont have to do anything ur not comfortable with. again L O V E ur work!!

thank you so much 🥺 i guess i just try to portray a type of love i think everyone deserves! but also thank you for giving me this idea because my mind went rampant. i also don’t know why the reader is a musician, but just roll with it i guess idk what happened there???

i hope this tickles your fancy! nsfw, so extended warnings will be under the cut! please do not interact if you're a minor!!

extended warnings: cue fingering, and some messy, needy sex in the bathtub 🛁✨

The steam rising from the bathtub makes light work of your weary muscles, menthol vapors kissing up your spine, soothing the knots scattered across the length of your back. You were in dire need of this, after the plight of a day you’d endured. A couple of hours in the studio had quickly spiraled into a six hour-session, with nothing to show for it but a lousy sixteen measures of brass ensembles — and by the good grace of your talent and patience, the artist has requested you drop in for their session again.

The thought makes you want to drown.

Instead, you opt to curl into yourself, softly pressing your cheek into your knee, watching the spindles of warmth waft up from your well earned bubble bath. In retrospect, the weight of your day didn’t fall solely on this new client — if you’re being honest, they actually had a lot of potential. You wouldn’t mind having your name tethered to a couple of their hits — but Tom had just returned home from a three month long shoot, and you’ve only been graced the luxury of his presence for less than 24 hours. Any time that isn’t being spent with him feels blasphemous, but since he has yet to return from his unknown whereabouts, you seized the opportunity to flush out as much irritability as possible before he returned.

You didn’t know just how tired you were until you were woken up.

A half an hour passes before you’re tousled from your dreamless slumber by a docile touch, familiar digits scaling the curve of your spine before they take a detour at the nape of your neck, carefully parting stray strands of hair to either side of your frame.

“Tom?” You hum, dulcet tones wafting through the steam akin to a dream as it ebbs from the rim of your subconscious.

“Yes, darling?” He muses, entranced by the frothy remnants of your bath soak as he dips his fingertips into the water.

“I missed you today.” You melt into his touch, allowing your head to fall to the side and survey his attire. His hair is all tousled, chestnut locks sprouting from the bottom of his backwards strewn baseball cap, and those honey-dipped hues you adore so much are creased with concern. You want nothing more than to soothe them away with the pad of your thumb, and so you indulge yourself, reaching over the edge of the tub as you continue to ramble. “I started the day already praying for it to be over with, and somehow, every single inconvenience fathomable decided to fall onto my lap. I mean — who the fuck needs seven different french horn tracks in an overture? A real band barely needs one.” Tom’s nodding along to your ramblings, but you both know that he doesn’t fully under the lengths of your frustration — just as you’ll never truly understand the inner workings of his own career. “The only thing keeping me together was the thought of coming home to you.”

“I’m so sorry, my love,” He coos, and continues to caress your back, working out all of the knots that the steam couldn’t relieve. “If it’s any consolation, I was only running late because I had to stop and buy some pancetta on the way home.”

“Don’t apologize. I assumed you would be back since all your stuff is still here.” You tease, mirroring his bemused smile, letting his world seep into your slowly booting brain. “Pancetta…” Not many people knew this, not even Tom before his first attempt, but the boy could whip up a mean bowl of pasta. You remember floundering across the bed the night before, identical to a little kid throwing a tantrum, moaning over just how badly you were craving carbonara. Silly of you to think that he’d take your melodramatic request in stride. “Are you-“

His enamored gaze is answer enough, but he pairs it with a chaste kiss to your forehead that has you nuzzling into his touch. “Only the best for my lil’ lady.”

You show a mere fraction of your appreciation with a swift, flurry of kisses over his cheekbones, pulling him closer by the downy bundles of his hoodie. Lovedrunk giggles and contented sighs bounce off the tiles before you’re both submerged in a comfortable silence, one that leaves the both of you free to shamelessly examine the other, one clad in their comfy, weatherworn disguise while the other dawns nothing but an enchanted smile. Even with the disparity between your attire, you both end up with flushed cheeks and dopey grins.

Hours, days, years seem to press on until you break the silence with a silly question, one that you ask in hopes of hearing his gentle, candied voice once more — or even better, his laugh. “What would you do if I was as big as a thumbtack? Would you still love me?” You query, a childlike sense of wonderment tinting your sugar-coated sigh.

He takes a second to ponder your questions, taking it into far more consideration than you had in bringing it to fruition. You can’t stifle the tiny puff of air that leaves your lips, the semblance of a chuckle, and Tom, with his wild brow and theatrical ways, whips his head in your direction, sending you a cautionary glare. “I suppose I would…” He starts, only to tap his finger against his bottom lip, drawing the suspense to its boiling point by the time you shove his forearm. “But then again, it doesn’t matter what size you are, there’s no limit to how much I love you.”

“Hmm,” you manage to vocalize. Your heart is now a star, an incandescent ball of fire caged beneath your ribs, and if he hasn’t gathered it by now, then he can bask in the warmth of your smile and know that for him, for him it is the sun.

You have to admit that you got ahead of yourself. One moment, you were binding your lips in a bruising, indulgent union, urging him to bask in the lovelorn rays of light he summoned, but only managing to pull him into the bathtub, fully clothed and unsuspecting. What was once your lukewarm oasis is suddenly a swirling cauldron of spearmint, teatree, and now unmistakable notes of him, sloshing against the edge of the tub as his frame struggles against the latent tide. There’s bound to be one hell of a mess waiting on the bathroom floor, but now that he’s settled in your grasp, you see no reason to fret just yet.

“Y/N.” His voice is deadpan, which can mean one of two things — he’s either overwhelmed with joy, or exhibiting a great deal of restraint in not drowning you right then and there. You choose to cancel out the latter, and offer the best attempt at innocence your babydoll eyes could muster, peering at him through your lashes with a teeth-rotting gleam.

“What?” You ask simply. His eye starts to twitch, and you only double down on your facade. “I just wanted to be closer to you.” Wading through the newly shallow body of water, half of its contents now dispersed across the tile floor, you make light work of his soggy hoodie, sloughing it over his head as he grumbles beneath it, giggling when it catches against that razor-sharp jawline of his.

“Well, you are very close now.” You notice how his voice drops down an octave, and you’re embarrassed to admit just how quickly the coil in your stomach tightens at the sound of it, how it already aches to be pulled taut.

Tom seems unsuspecting enough when he captures your lips once again, his brims as delicate as baby’s breath against your own, tentative as they glide in a sultry dance. He doesn’t need to coax a confession out of you, the truth is already there, nestled in your urgent, needy pressure, in the whimpers threatening to spill into his lips. He’ll indulge in this little game for a moment longer — where you pretend that you aren’t desperate for his touch, and he pretends that he isn’t just as desperate to provide it — but once you fumble into his lap, clumsily grasping for more, and more, and even more of him, his resolve begins to crumble.

“I need you.” you whisper into the hollow of his mouth, golden-tongued and virtually earnest, coaxing a trembling sigh from the back of his throat.

He hums back, contented, basking in the intoxicating warmth of your silhouette, tracing the curve of your breasts with his knuckles. “Long day, my love?”

“Mhmm,” You demonstrate your point with a wistful sigh, enveloping his great hands with your smaller ones, coating them in languid kisses until there was no skin left untouched.

You’re just too fucking cute, he muses. He can never say no to you, not even in jest.

Two of his slender digits roam the valley of your stomach, knuckles ghosting over your navel in their listless descent before they venture between your thighs, surveying just how badly you really need him. He dips his middle finger between your folds, tender and slick with your arousal, and emits a husky groan as he traces a steady line between your entrance and the spot just below your clit, ghosting your little bundle of nerves with each taunting caress. “You’re already soaked, my love. This all for me?” He coos, nudging your jaw with the tip of his nose, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss against the column of your neck.

“All for you,” You sigh, digging your nails into the broad planes of his shoulder. “Please, Tom, please touch me.”

He finally spares you, thumb sloppily circling your clit as he plunges two digits into your opening, welcoming the lithe intrusion with a warm, velvety embrace. You slump into his embrace, nipples straining hard against the soaked fabric of his t-shirt, and raggedly whimper as he starts to work you open. The reminder of your nude form plastered against his clothes, albeit soaking wet, summons another pool of wetness to your core. You’re flooded with thoughts of delectable anguish — of denim kissing your hips, dragging against your bundle of nerves, as he ravages your bare little cunt, proving that you’re so desperate for his cock that you can barely wait for him to undress.

“Is this all you needed, baby? My fingers? You wanted me to stretch this pretty little cunt out?” He can’t stop the filthy words tumbling from his lips, especially not when your tiny mewls of pleasure are flooding his ears — you’re just so soft and pliant under his touch, so eager to be filled to the brim, it’s intoxicating to know that you’ll take anything he has to offer you. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m gonna give you everything you need. Gonna have you spilling all over my fingers and then — fuck! — then i’m gonna fill you up with my cock. How does that sound?

“Y-yeah,” You’re rutting against his palm at this point, grinding down to meet each thrust, to feel impossibly closer, fuller, ambling toward an orgasm that is already barreling toward you. As he finds a new angle, the pads of his fingers nudge against your g-spot, and the heel of his hand careens over your clit with such a delicious pressure that your thighs begin to quake. “‘M so close.” You whine, prompting him to punctuate each thrust with a curl of his fingers, dragging your orgasm from the pit of your stomach.

“Then let go, baby. Let go for me.” You need no further persuasion, your eyes squeezing shut as you teeter off the edge, with nothing but a raspy, desperate string of obscenities, clawing at the slope of his shoulders, and bathing his hand in sultry waves of nectar as it spills from your weepy little hole. His fingers are trapped between your fluttering walls, working you through your climax with nimble, tentative thrusts, stretching each wave of pleasure out until you’re trembling over little ripples.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” You feel so small beneath his gaze, teeming with endless pools of adoration, like you’re a freshwater clearing and he’s parched. It nearly distracts you from his fingers as they slip from your opening, but each receding wave of bliss is tethered to him, so you groan at the loss of contact. Your walls flutter hopelessly around nothing, chasing the delicious stretch of his digits in their absence, but you’re instantly qualmed by the sound of his zipper being pulled down, no doubt freeing himself from the waterlogged confines of his jeans.

“Can I?” You sink your hands into what little water still remains in the tub, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, but he swats your shaky hands away, adamantly shaking his head as a small frown of confusion forms between your brows. “You don’t wanna take ‘em off?”

“This is about you, my love.” He whispers, his free hand smoothing over the small of your back, stroking the patch of dew-ridden skin with his thumb. “And right now, all I wanna do is keep my promise.”

“You’re so good to me,” You whisper just above his lips, leaning back into his touch, peering between your bodies to survey his ministrations. You’re still a bit dazed from your first, earth-shattering orgasm, but the prospect of another has you buzzing with excitement, and Tom knows that look well enough to speed up his course of action.

Pearly veneers sink into the swell of your bottom lip at the mere sight — his cock is beyond compare. Even as its impatiently pulled through the opening of his jeans, it’s put on a mouth-watering display as he leisurely pumps himself, smearing tiny pearls of precum across his flushed, leaky tip with each upstroke. He’s far too enticing, far too pretty with his rosy cheeked, droopy-eyed charm, to resist, and you’re quick to replace his hand with your own, curling your fingers around the base and mimicking a couple teasing pumps before guiding him to your entrance.

Tom spreads his legs a little wider to accommodate you, the sensation of wet denim rubbing against your thighs, knocking your legs farther apart, causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips. It doesn’t take long for you to align the head of his cock with your entrance, teasing him with a couple of lascivious drags through your folds before you sink onto his length, reigniting the remnants of your last orgasm as inch after delicious inch prods your tender walls apart. By the time he bottoms out, you’re nothing but a trembling pile of limbs, and his lips seek out your own just to muffle your staggered breaths with a burning kiss.

You allow yourself a couple of seconds to adjust — no matter how or which way you take him, he still pushes up every crevice of your insides, demanding every square inch of your velvety heat. A wild flurry of crimson blossoms across the high planes of your cheeks as Tom nuzzles his forehead against your own, brushing his nose against yours, coaxing a melodious string of giggles from your chest while you scrunch up your nose. He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips and smiles against the spot. “You look so pretty like this, my love. With that gorgeous smile of yours, and that pretty little pussy squeezing my cock.” You feel like you’ve got whiplash, trying to come to terms with how obscene he can be under such tender movements. “Just wanna turn you over and bury myself inside. See how tight you feel when you’re folded in half.” His hands reach down to rub gentle, circular motions into the small of your back, and you can’t help but pulse around him at the juxtaposition.

Once the uncomfortable stretch of his girth melts into pleasure, you finally start to work yourself over his length, and you swear you can feel every gorgeous ridge and vein of his cock as you rise up to the tip, only to plunge back down with a impish yelp, setting a clumsy, needy pace that certainly gets the job done. You don’t really find your rhythm until Tom helps you out, sinking his fingers into the supple curve of your ass, orchestrating a hard, punishing pace as he drives up into your sopping cunt, meeting you in the middle with each thrust.

All at once, the bathroom is washed in a crude symphony, the combination of your heavy panting and slapping skin intermingles with the shallow splash of water as it laps against the edge of the tub, punctuating the sinful drag of his length, and how the tip pounds against your furthest wall as you impale yourself onto him. You can feel another orgasm start to build, and since Tom has made it his solemn vow to not only study, but master, every little, scrumptious detail of your body, he senses it as well.

“You got another one for me?” He asks between labored pants. His own orgasm is starting to peak over the horizon, following in the blazing trail you’ve set, you can tell by the way a thin sheen of sweat starts to build against his hairline, and his brows almost meet in the middle, as if the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his cock is unfathomable. He uses the grip he has on your waist to take control, using one hand to scale up the breadth of your back, and as his palms leave a blistering trail up, up, up your sides, he pulls you flush against his chest, attempting to plant his feet against the floor of the bathtub,

He needs the leverage to piston his hips up into your own, to pound into your greedy hole at an unyielding pace — to keep his promise — and as you start to feel the tell tale edge of your climax cresting over your weary frame, you spoil his shoulder with sweeping, butterfly kisses and flood his mind with sweet, sweet nothings, luring him to the brink with the same dulcet tones you know drive him wild.

His hips stutter into your own, and before the words can even exit your lips, you’re dragged to the edge of bliss with a couple of rough, uncompromising thrusts that have you wildly spasming around his length. He joins you almost immediately, throbbing against your sensitive walls as he fills you to the brim, driving the mixture of your arousal further into you as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Once he pulls out, he’s quick to wrap you up in a soothing embrace, planting kisses over every acre of skin he can get his lips on, but you’re too focused on the trail of cum leaking down your thighs to really indulge him, curiosity getting the better of you as you gently weave your arm between your bodies and collect the wetness on your thighs. You swear you can feel the rumble of his chest once you pop your fingers into your mouth, humming around the sodden digits, making a spectacle out of the addicting elixir pooling on your tongue, but his glimmer of reinvigorated stamina is put to rest by the sight of your drowsy, half-lidded stare.

“Why don’t we get you dried off? Then I can start dinner.” He hums against your cheek, punctuating his suggestion with yet another chaste kiss. It’s genuinely like he can’t get enough, and neither can you as you sleepily nod.

“Will you wake me up when it’s ready?” You sigh, teetering on the edge of slumber once more.

“Of course, my love.”

#tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader blurb #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #something about this man fucking the bad day out of you 🥰#what a gentleman #ANOTHER 3K DOOZY??????#WHA T TH E FUCK???#mine*

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goldencuffs · 3 years

Text

untraditional

@lamenweek day five: traditions

Damen doesn’t think he’s supposed to feel so bone-weary at thirty-one.

Everything in his body aches, and he’s already greying at his temples. Last night, he had gone to bed at eight.

Theomedes doesn’t look up from the Ios Financial Times when Damen enters the Drawing Room. The table already has been set: Damen’s seat is, as usual, is to the left of his father, exactly fourty-seven centimetres apart. Damen’s food has been already served, because his father got here before him, and everyone gets served the same time as Theomedes.

Damen’s entire life has been dictated by these traditions, guidelines and precedents.

Some of them are good, but most of them are like this: nonsensical and elitist.

Even Theomedes’ and Damianos’ tea is prepared via strict protocol: one teaspoon of loose tea leaves per cup, heated to a hundred degrees celcius (seventy for green tea), with a tablespoon of organic, raw honey added straight to the teapot.

(It’s amazing tea, though).

Theomedes says, “Your food is cold.”

Damen stares at the pile of mash potatoes and salmon. “I’m not hungry.”

He also hates salmon, but Theomedes is the only one who sets the menu for the week with the head chef. Last week, they had roast beef and vegetables four times.

“You’re not still sulking are you?” Theomedes finally says, three minutes later.

Damen grips his table fork. He forces himself to do the breathing exercises Makedon had taught him.

In an ideal world, he wouldn’t reply, but in this one, everyone answered to the King.

“No, sir,” Damen says, and shoves a polite bite of food in his mouth.

“You haven’t had a meal with me in three weeks,” Theomedes says, and he sounds hurt and disappointed.

“Hmm,” Damen says. “I’ve been busy. You know I’ve been working on the preservation of Marlas with Nikandros.”

Theomedes crosses his fork and knife over his plate. Instantly, three different staff members rush forward to clear the table.

Damen’s plate is cleared too; no one eats after the King has left. Another useless, bane tradition.

“You know I did what’s best for you,” Theomedes says, looming over Damen.

When Damen nods, Theomedes kisses his temple. “You’ll realise it sooner, rather than later.”

“Yes, sir,” Damen says quietly, and rises only after Theomedes has left, as is protocol.

An hour later, the itch under Damen’s skin becomes unbearable, and he finds himself burrowing under the left corner of his mattress for certain… supplies.

He pulls on the red, shoulder-length curly wig with little care, and then the faux-leather beret. It’s peeling and terrible, but Damen doesn’t care.

The rest of his outfit is just layers: sunglasses, two coats, scarves, and a muted shirt, to hide as much of his body as possible.

He normally doesn’t leave so early in the day, when he’s being patrolled by guards and the Kyros.

Luckily, it’s only Nikandros who catches him, right outside his door.

His expression is flat. “You’re not serious. You’re leaving now? We’re in the middle of drafting the Delpha treaty!”

Damen shrugs. “I have to go.”

“You don’t have to—” Nikandros cuts himself off with a sigh. “Whatever. Can you please bring me back those caramel slices?”

Damen grins. “You got it, boss.”

Once he’s past the Main Foyer, the rest of the journey is easy: Damen takes an hour and a half train ride from Central Ios to Andris, and then a fifteen minute bus ride on the eighty-six. And then finally, an eight minute walk to the Andris Office District.

There’s a small bookstore there called Pocket Bookmark, painted emerald green, the lettering done in gold.

Inside, it’s not too busy: it’s not quite the end of a business day, and the customers in here are high school students, skimming the Shakespeare section, and a man hovering near the new releases.

Damen keeps his head down, weaving through the aisles.

Nicaise, the mouthy teenage cashier rolls his eyes when he sees Damen approaching, lifting up the wooden flap on on the bench, allowing Damen to duck through.

“Thanks, kid,” Damen says, mussing his hair.

“Ah, fuck off,” Nicaise grunts, but fondly. He’s warmed up to Damen ever since Damen bought him his first car. (Nothing too flashy, obviously).

Damen hurries all the way to the back, opening the door marked, No entry, and then goes up the narrow steps, which always make the worst creaking noises.

There’s another door a the small porch upstairs, and Damen fishes out the key in his pocket to open it.

Instantly, he’s hit with the smell of butter chicken simmering on the stove, and his mouth salivates. He dumps his entire attire by the small settee in the hallway, inhaling gratefully.

The second thing he’s greeted with is Wendy, who meows and claws at his leg.

“Come here, baby,” Damen murmurs, picking her up and holding her to his chest. She purrs and curls up, like a big ball of fluff and he kisses her head. “I love you so much.”

She meows in response, and snuggles closer.

Laurent turns off the stove in the tiny kitchen. He looks over his shoulder for just a second and scrunches his nose. “Ugh, she’s such a slut. I’ve been petting her for the last hour, but apparently I’m just not good enough.”

Laurent is in his after work attire: which means he’s as half dressed as possible. The shirt he’s wearing is one of Damen’s, and his shorts are the pair that shrunk in the wash; they ride too high up his thigh.

Laurent’s just come out of the shower: the hair at his nape is still wet, and his skin is pinked and glowing. Even with the curry, Damen can smell jasmine and coconut.

Laurent has got this sweet, soft smile that lights up his eyes.

It takes Damen’s breath away: not just Laurent, but this entire picture of domesticity. It’s all Damen’s wanted his entire life.

He means to make a snarky comment about Wendy, but what comes out is: “Marry me.”

Laurent drops the wooden spoon, eyes wide.

Damen grips Wendy too tightly and she lets out a shriek and jumps out of his arms.

They stare at each other for a moment. Damen’s heart is racing.

Laurent blinks. “Oh, sorry. I think I hallucinated for a minute.”

Damen steps forward, smiling. “It wasn’t a hallucination. Marry me.”

Laurent makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “Are you asking me or telling me?” He swallows, eyes darting all over Damen’s face, his body. “I don’t see a ring,” he says quietly.

Damen groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Shit, I know. I had this whole plan, I was going to propose with the Queen’s ring, but obviously I’d have to talk to my father first and—” He sits down at the kitchen table, pulling out his phone. “There’s a courthouse ten minutes from here. It’s Thursday night, so they’re still open. We just need to show up with a signed ‘Intended Marriage Certificate’. It’s like three pages, we’ll be fine.”

“…Oh.” Laurent has gone very still. “You’re looking up courthouses. You’re serious.”

“Shit,” Damen says, watching him. “I’m so sorry. You—Do you want to marry me, Laurent? Because I’ve been dying to marry you since I first saw you. Er. No pressure, though.”

Laurent glares at him, affronted. “Of course I want to marry you, you fucking idiot!”

Damen leaps to his feet, grinning and flushed. “Fuck yeah! Let’s go print this form and—”

“Damen!” Laurent laughs, looking a little crazed. “We can’t just—Just wait a minute.”

“Alright. Shoot, baby.”

Predictably, Laurent flushes pink. “Is it even legal? Aren’t there special ceremonies for royals? And—and the King still thinks we broke up!”

Damen winces a little at that.

After an entire year of sneaking around, of meeting up in discreet hotels, and making plans to move in together one day, Damen had fucked up three weeks ago.

Drunk and enamoured, he had kissed Laurent outside his bookstore after a date. There had been photos—and the only saving grace had been the fact that Laurent’s face had been inscrutable.

But the fact that he was a commoner had been enough for Theomedes to unleash his rage. He had ordered Damen to break things off with Laurent, and Damen had pretended to, but… Well, Laurent had been hurt. It had been the first time he had realised how shaky their entire relationship was, how quickly it could come crumbling down.

Damen had spent days convincing him otherwise, and Laurent had finally agreed, but there had still been shadows in his eyes.

Now—now, though, Damen realises exactly what he can do, what he should have done months ago, to make Laurent realise he’s it.

“Fuck the King,” Damen says. He finally closes the distance between them, gripping Laurent’s hands. “Laurent, listen. I can still get married legally in a civil ceremony.”

“But—” Laurent bites his lip. “I don’t want you to get into trouble. And,” His voice grows small. “I know there’s so many rules and traditions you have to follow. I’ve read about the whole tradition where your father is supposed to gift you a diptych piece.”

Damen’s heart is warm. He smiles down at Laurent, smitten. “You’ve read up on royal wedding traditions?”

Laurent colours even more. “Of course.”

Damen kisses him hard, unable to bare the love swelling up inside him. Laurent flings his arms around Damen’s neck, his mouth emitting small, sweet gasps.

When they pull apart, Damen presses his forehead to Laurent’s. “Fuck the King,” he repeats. “Fuck the customs and rules and traditions. You are the only thing that matters to me. Just forget everything for a moment and answer: do you want to go downtown and marry me?”

Laurent’s smile overtakes his face, his eyes shining. “Yes,” he says softly. “I want to—so much.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you in a better way or give you a ring or—”

“Stop. This was absolutely perfect.” He sighs. “You’re perfect.”

Damen kisses him again, pressing him to the counter. “I want you to have my mother’s ring.”

Laurent buries his head into Damen’s chest, overwhelmed. He nods.

Damen drops a kiss to his hair. “Get changed, baby. We’re getting married.”

Laurent looks up at him in wonder. “We’re getting married.”

#yes this is rushed what about it!!!!! 🤧😤#just kidding i still hope u enjoy #lamen week 2021 #captive prince #my writing #my fic

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amyscascadingtabs · 3 years

Text

give you my wild, give you a child

"stupid numbers, think they’re so great. i'd love to see numbers give you a baby."

inspired by that one line in 8x08 renewal, because he really did give her a baby.

read on ao3

It's been three days and Amy can't stop crying.

Sometimes she thinks it's stopped, that she'll finally have a stable moment to talk to her husband or eat a meal in peace or facetime some of the twenty or so relatives on her list, but it feels like it’s never more than minutes before her emotions swim to surface again and something new brings out the vibrating sobs that have seemed to characterize this day. As it turns out, even newly pregnant Amy has got nothing on three days postpartum Amy.

That she cries about the big, life-changing things doesn’t surprise her. When she wakes up after a night of minimal sleep and sees Mac in the bedside crib next to her, she cries because she’s so grateful; that everything went well, that their baby is finally here and that he's perfect beyond words. Then she cries because she thinks about what could have happened if it hadn't gone well, because she gave birth in a makeshift birthing suite in a police precinct, and so many things could have gone wrong it’s a miracle nothing did. When she gets out of the shower, she cries seeing herself in the bathroom mirror, because she's proud of her body in a way she's never experienced before. Then she cries because she also barely recognizes the person staring back at her, still looking six months pregnant except with hospital underwear and nursing pads in her bra. When she has breakfast after feeding Mac and tries to read the newspaper, she cries because so many terrible things are happening in the world all the time, and she doesn’t know how she’s going to protect this child from a world that sometimes seems to be getting more and more cruel by the day. Then she cries out of guilt for feeling that way, because she’s supposed to be enjoying this baby bubble, and what kind of mother even is she for daring to think about anything but her baby right now?

As the day goes on, however, her reasons for crying begin to feel increasingly ridiculous. She cries because she’s so relieved to be drinking regular coffee again, then because it doesn’t taste the same as decaf and she’s gotten so used to it that the caffeine tastes weird now. She cries because the coffee goes cold anyway when Mac begins to whimper and suck on his fingers in the way he seems to do whenever he’s hungry and she has to drop everything to feed him another time. She cries when Jake turns on the television and a commercial for diapers comes on, because she can’t believe they get to buy them now. Then she cries when Mac has finished eating because the red flannel she borrowed slash stole from Jake won’t button properly, and she realizes one of the buttons has gone in the wrong hole and she has to redo the whole thing. When Jake offers to help her with it, that makes her cry too, because the way he’s not laughing at her right now but patiently trying to solve her problems is making her feel so loved she doesn't know how to thank him.

The thing that makes her cry most of all, though, is watching Jake and Mac together. She always knew that sight would drive her crazy, and it’s part of the reason she wanted to have kids with him so much in the first place, but not even in her most indulgent fantasies about their future could she have pictured this. As grateful as she is over the fact that she gets to be a mom, getting to see Jake be a dad is a close second. He loves their son so much, and Mac so clearly loves him too, and Amy has to remind herself of the nine months she's spent carrying this child by herself in order not to feel jealous when Mac stops fussing the moment Jake picks him up. He looks so tiny when Jake holds him, the back of his head fitting perfectly in Jake's palm, and the care with which he’s handling him keeps making her emotional. He's always talking to him, sometimes whispers she can't hear and sometimes praise for her which she can, and that makes her cry too. He even chats to him when he changes his diapers, which Amy hides behind the door frame just so she can hear, failing to stifle a giggle when he asks in a fake interrogation voice what Mac has to say to his defense for making such a mess. He wakes up with her in the middle of the night when she has to breastfeed to get her endless glasses of water and granola bars when it makes her feel starving, and then he lets Mac burp him in the face and spit up on the back of his shirt before he falls back asleep curled up on his chest. He leans his chin on the top of Mac’s head to smell that perfect baby scent, running his finger over those cute neck rolls, and the smile on his face when he looks back at Amy makes her completely lose it, because this is what she dreamed of all along.

This is what she imagined when they visited her brother Christian’s new baby shortly before they got married and Jake spent the better part of an hour making funny faces to the child in his arms. This is what she panicked over when he said he wasn't sure if he wanted kids, because she had always thought. This is what she thought of those nights after another timed round of unenthusiastic sex, trying to keep the hope alight until that single line would once more tell them not this time. She had felt it in his teary smile when she showed him that first positive test, in how hard he'd squeezed her hand at their first ultrasound when their baby’s heartbeat had filled the room, in the absolute joy on his face the first time he’d managed to put his hand on her stomach just in time to feel their son kick, and now it's right in front of her and almost too much for her heart to take.

She's so tired, and she's sore and overwhelmed and worried about a billion different things, but she's never felt so grateful.

That's what makes her cry floods at three a.m. when Mac seems to have finished eating and she comes back from the bathroom to find Jake still sitting up with him in bed, holding him with a hypnotised look on his face. He doesn’t even seem tired, even though he must be, is just looking at his son like he’s holding the entire world in his arms and doesn’t ever want to let go. She always knew seeing him with a baby would be incredible, those surprisingly toned biceps curling around a fragile little human and those heart eyes focused on one thing only, but maybe she hadn’t expected not being able to watch it without breaking into tears.

“Jeez, Ames,” he says when he looks up, the expression on his face changing to one of concern. “Are you okay? Honestly?”

“Yeah,” she sniffles and dries her eyes again as she sits down on the bed. The skin on her cheeks is stinging at this point. “I just can’t believe this is my life.”

“Why not?” Mac’s pacifier glides out of his mouth, and Jake puts it back with two fingers before he can notice anything. “We’re right here, babe. We’re very much real.”

“Sometimes I thought it was never going to happen.” She hiccups. “All the times we’ve been apart. The months we fought to have him. How freaking long and exhausting being pregnant was. And now I have him, and you, and I’m just so grateful I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“That’s why you’re crying?”

“I think I don’t even know why I’m crying anymore. I’m so sleep-deprived.”

“Yeah.” Jake smirks. “But I get it. I’m really, really grateful too.”

Mac makes a short gurgling sound that Amy takes to mean he agrees. She reaches out so his hand can wrap around her ring finger, feeling him squeezing it tight in the cutest grip. The grey striped pajamas has little mittens on it to keep him from scratching herself, but Mac gets upset whenever they pull them down, so Amy figures they'll just have to keep filing his nails instead. Their son is already both opinionated and stubborn, and she loves it about him, because she loves everything about who he is. He's perfect, and he's hers, and she still can't quite believe it even though he's right there in Jake's arms. It's all her dreams coming true, and it's making all the hard things feel so worth it.

“Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for giving me a baby,” she whispers. She’s too tired, barely even knows what she's saying anymore, but looking at the two of them, all she can think about is how incredibly lucky and thankful she feels.

Jake blinks in disbelief, grinning at her. “Wait, I gotta make sure I heard this right. Did you just thank me for giving you a baby?”

“Uh-huh?”

“And you're serious about this?”

“Well… yeah.”

“So you mean after nine months,” he says, still wide-eyed, “of you telling me, minimum a couple times a week but pretty much daily toward the end, that I could never understand what you're going through, and then you shouting some lovely descriptions at me whilst you were literally pushing him out, and also earlier this evening when you cried because I can't breastfeed him for you – you’re thanking me?”

“Some of it was a team effort,” she insists. “You helped.”

“Oh yeah, my nards sure are loving the credit.”

“Don't be gross.”

“Sorry.” He smiles, a little bashfully, stroking his fingers back and forth over Mac’s forehead instead of looking at her. “But Ames, c’mon. It was a pretty limited effort compared to what you did.”

“Maybe they’re not the same thing.” She leans her head on his shoulder. Mac is still holding on to her finger, but his grip is getting looser now. “But you were part of it too, babe.”

“Really?” He’s blushing. “What did I do that was so special?”

“Let's see. You didn’t laugh at me when I kept crying at everything the first weeks. Rosa made fun of me on a daily basis, but you just hugged me and told me everything was going to be okay. You let me sleep in when I had days off, even though I pretended I wanted you to wake me up. You fixed food for me without telling me what it was, and put it in front of me before I could feel sick thinking about it.” She shakes her head at the memory of those, few but complicated, weeks, and how hard they’d had to work around it. “You kept telling me I looked great even when my body kept changing and it all felt weird, and helped me pick out maternity wear when I didn’t want to do it on my own. I don’t know that I would have taken barely any bump pictures if you hadn't made me. You listened to all my research about the best strollers and pacifiers and cribs, and you did those courses and read all those books with me, and you came to almost every scan and held my hand so tight every time. You came home with onesies and hats because you thought they were too cute not to buy, and you gave me massages whenever I wanted them, and you even slept on the couch a couple nights at the end when I got angry at you for snoring. You barely even complained about it.”

“I complained a little,” Jake mumbles. “When you couldn’t hear me.”

“Fine. And lastly, you rode a horse through the city to get to me while I was in labor, and you didn’t even act like seeing him be born was gross.”

“I mean, it was a little bit gross.” Jake lifts Mac so he can kiss his forehead when he whimpers. “No offense, bud. I mean you looked perfect, I didn’t think you looked like a slimy alien even for a second, didn’t cross my mind, et cetera.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Point is, babe, you were there. You're here now. I know I did the actual work, but you were the one who made sure I could. I don’t know how I would have made it through without you. So… thank you.”

He doesn't give her any witty comebacks for that, only a shy smile.

“I love you,” Amy all but whispers through the tears that fight their way through her determination to keep them in. “Both of you. So much.”

“Love you, Ames.”

She kisses him, putting her hands on each side of his thighs so she can reach over Mac. Kissing is a lot more complicated than usual when both his hands are busy and none of them wants to risk crushing their son, but it's still nice, feeling his soft lips on hers and squeezing his lower lip between both of hers for just a moment before pulling apart.

“It's hard to kiss you while you're holding a baby,” she says, and Jake grimaces. “That might be the only bad thing about it.”

“My bad. I’m just going to put him down so we can make out all night.”

“Don't you dare. He currently doesn't have a boob in his mouth and he's still not crying, you're not doing anything to risk that now.” Amy pulls the comforter up to her chin. “Wake me up when he needs to eat again and not a second earlier.”

Jake chuckles at her as she turns out the light and snuggles up close to him, but he makes no move to put Mac down or even protest, and she didn't think it was possible to love him even more. Her heart has definitely grown with becoming a mom, much like everyone told her about, but most seem to have forgotten to prepare her for how much it would also grow when it came to her partner.

“I still think I’m the one who should say thank you,” Jake whispers just as she closes her eyes, and Amy can't help but smile. “If we're talking about who gave who a baby.”

“Jake, just accept the praise.”

“Oh, yeah.” She doesn't need to see his face to know that he's grinning. “I’ve locked it in a little box in my brain and I’m gonna keep it as gloat material forever, bringing it up when you least expect it.”

“That's great, babe.”

“Mm-hmm. We both know the truth, though.” Jake's left hand strokes over the top of her head, and Amy has to look up to see that Mac is still resting safely on his right arm and doesn't seem to have noticed a thing. Another tear fight its way down her cheek at the thought of how safe he must feel with him. This time, she doesn’t even bother to wipe it away.

#my writing #b99 #brooklyn nine-nine #peraltiago #jake x amy #b99 fic #b99 fanfiction #no eps this week but i finally finished this haha!#pls enjoy <3 #also thank u niamh and ajit for helps with all the reasons amy would be crying!!!#oh also the three people who voted on the title thank you

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