#Summer of Horror Exchange | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ckret2 · 2 months ago

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Chapter 92 of Bill Cipher using his involuntary human girl disguise to give Agent Powers the manic pixie nightmare femme fatale treatment: the last step in Bill's plan to trick the agents into leaving Gravity Falls has been executed; and Ford gets an opportunity to prove he really is the twin of professional con artist Stanley Pines.

When Powers pulled into the motel parking lot with Goldie, Trigger and Dale were already there, leaning against their car, with Trigger holding a laptop balanced on one arm. Dale gave Goldie a puzzled look as the pair joined them. "Why is she...?"

"She's cleared to view this material," Powers said brusquely. "Now, let's see what's in this file."

For added security from passersby, they piled into the government vehicle, Trigger and Dale in the front, Goldie and Powers in the back. Trigger awkwardly positioned the laptop on the center console so that all four of them could see it, and then he opened up the flash drive's folder, revealing well over a hundred reports—Powers did not remember making that many reports. Together, they began skimming through the documents.

It was like being sprayed with a fire hydrant of information as his memories rushed back in.

Report after report about weird things happening in and around the Mystery Shack. They exchanged concerned murmurs during the first couple of files—"Do you remember any of this?" "No."—before they fell silent, simply reading about the paranormal hotbed of the century. Ghosts, rogue AIs, a zombie attack—some he'd remembered, some he hadn't—and yes, Powers had been able to vaguely recall the zombie attack, but only as a memory so distant and abstract it felt like a dream. But he couldn't recall how they'd been attacked by zombies.

Until now.

Their investigation had apparently discovered Stanford Pines had an extensive criminal history under multiple names, was hiding some kind of doomsday weapon in the shack, stole radioactive waste from a... government facility...? hm.

Goldie nudged Powers and muttered, "Hey. Weren't you investigating here because a tipster reported there was somebody dangerous in the shack?"

He nodded slowly. "Could be."

Trigger was frowning deeper and deeper with each report. "How could we have just forgotten all of this? I wrote half of these! I—I remember them now, but... but now it feels like I never didn't remember." He looked at Powers in confusion. "We... didn't remember this earlier, did we? Didn't we have no idea what was happening in this town...?"

"We didn't," Powers said firmly.

"I think something's coming to me," Dale said. "About the doomsday weapon. I only came into town at the end of your investigation for the big raid on the shack—"

"I completely forgot about the raid," Trigger said with quiet horror.

"—but I—I remember the gravitational anomalies. Gravity kept turning off and on. Our cars were floating around."

"We were trying to find the doomsday weapon beneath the Mystery Shack," Trigger went on. "Somebody found a secret door in the gift shop..."

Powers murmured, "The moment we lost our memories."

For a split second, from his peripheral vision, Powers saw a flash of something almost triumphant in Goldie's face before her expression turned serious again. It nearly confused him until he recalled that only the other three of them were having their normal lives upended by the discovery of what had been done to their minds. For Goldie, there was no normal life to upend. She already knew her mind had been destroyed by at least one encounter with the Blind Eye. What was a horror to them must have been a relief to her: the missing pieces finally falling back into place.

He took her hand; he wasn't sure whether for her comfort or his own.

Trigger scrolled quickly through several more reports—by now, just glimpsing the first few lines of each report was enough to unlock the buried memories. "This is everything we should have known last summer."

"It fills in all the gaps," Dale said. "It doesn't explain how we forgot it all, but..."

"Maybe some kind of... psychic defense field...?"

"Anything's possible. Once we get that equipment to scan the walls for electronics..."

Powers had tuned out Trigger and Dale's conversation. He was thinking about Stanford Pines—the con artist with multiple PhDs who had spent most of the seventies in several countries at once, according to everything their investigation had dug up. His past was so muddled they'd even entertained the possibility that there were multiple people who'd used Stanford Pines's identity—he had a dead twin brother (allegedly), it was difficult to tell whose trail was whose. But after everything he'd learned today, he'd begun to wonder about Stan Pines again. About how he'd managed to find that radioactive waste. About his doomsday weapon.

"Memory gun," Goldie said, dragging Powers's attention back to the present.

Trigger and Dale stared at her. "What?"

She nudged Powers, "We found blueprints in the museum for a gun that erases memories—and a huge cache of stolen memories. Some secret society in town has been using it."

"Society of the Blind Eye," Powers said, taking over the explanation. "They're in cahoots with the Department of Cover-Ups to keep sensitive information secret. There's more than one active Bureau case in town." He took a deep breath. "We were on more than one Bureau case in town."

Dale's brows shot up in surprise at the same time Trigger's furrowed in confusion.

"Obviously, there's only one explanation," Goldie said, reaching toward the laptop to tap a picture of the Mystery Shack taken during one of their stake-outs. "Whatever's going on here—the DCU doesn't want anyone to know about it, including us. They called their friends in the Blind Eye to wipe our memories and keep us away from the Mystery Shack."

"'Our memories'?" Trigger echoed.

"She's with the Bureau." Powers could explain the rest later.

Goldie's theory was sound—but. But he couldn't believe Bureau's own parent department would treat its agents that way. He didn't want to believe it.

He was too afraid of the possibility to believe it.

Surely there must be another reasonable explanation. "Or, the Blind Eye betrayed the Department—and us."

He could tell by the look Goldie shot him that she hadn't considered that possibility. "Huh. It could have," she conceded. "It doesn't... doesn't quite sit right with me."

"None of this sits right with me." What did Powers do now? The agents in this town were drowning when they hadn't even realized they were in hot water. The Blind Eye, the Trembley case, the Pines case... There was something big in this town, and the police were in on it, the Bureau was in on it, he was in on it—and he didn't even know what it was or who he could trust.

But he knew where he could find out.

As Powers opened the car door, a look of panic flashed across Goldie's face. "Hold on, where are you going?"

"To the Mystery Shack. It's time we finally get to the bottom of this. I'm not leaving until I see what's behind the vending machine and find Stanford Pines."

"Whoa-whoa-whoa! You've gotta be kidding me! Tell me you're kidding me!" Powers was only halfway out of the car when she caught him by the lapel and tried to drag him back into the car. "You'd have to be crazy to go back! It's obvious somebody higher up on the food chain than us doesn't want us snooping in there—"

"Or a rogue local cult," Powers said.

"Either way!" Her grip tightened. "You got your mind erased for going there last time! Do you want to get brainwashed again?!"

The thought terrified him. But the thought of not finding out what was happening terrified him more. He couldn't afford to think about what might happen to him; he pushed the thought aside. "This time is different. They won't be expecting our arrival and they won't have time to set up—whatever they did last time," Powers said. "And even if they do, we'll be split up. That way at least two of us will remember. Trigger?"

"Yessir!" Trigger hopped out of the car after Powers.

"But—but you can't," Goldie said desperately.

"Why not?"

"Because—" Her mouth hung open for a second as she tried and failed to think of a counterargument. Then, with a low growl of frustration, she dragged him into a kiss.

For a moment he hung there, half in and half out of the car, one hand on the back of the seat and the other hovering in the air, uncertain what to do with itself, until it finally settled on Goldie's waist. And for a split second, Gravity Falls and its horrors were a thousand miles away.

But only for a second. And then he put his hand on Goldie's shoulder, gently pushed her back, and tugged her hand off his suit. Her hand was so small and delicate compared to his; and her grip was so tight he was almost afraid he'd hurt her prying her off. "I know," he said softly. "I know. Me too."

Her face was flush with rage, her eyes wide with terror. "But—it's—too dangerous. You know it is."

"I know. But we're all in danger until we know what's going on." He had more people than just himself to worry about. He had to worry about his team.

His whole team. Goldie had already lost so much; what would happen to her mind if she lost any more?

She struggled a moment longer to think of another argument; then let out a noise that was half sigh of defeat, half groan of frustration. "Fine. Just... Get out of here before I give into the urge to break your knees."

####

"You two are cute," Dale commented.

"He'd be cuter if he did what I said," Bill muttered. Why couldn't everyone simply obey him at all times without question! He'd even pulled out the desperate kiss routine, humans were supposed to be suckers for that corny trash! He flung himself back into his seat with an indignant huff.

The plan had been going perfectly until now. He'd convinced Powers that the government and the Blind Eye were working together. He'd convinced Powers that they'd been brainwashed. The agents opening the flash drive and discovering what they'd forgotten was supposed to seal the deal. It was the key to his plan working! It was supposed to convince the agents that their own government was behind whatever was happening in the shack and they should stay out of it. It should have terrified Powers out of Gravity Falls! Not made him charge straight back into what looked like an obvious trap!

And if he found the portal... If he got his hands on either one of the Stans and dragged him downstairs too, where he could see Bill had started repairing the portal...

Now what?

Bill scooted behind Dale and leaned around the shoulder of his seat. "Hey, you should go through the rest of the reports. Maybe there's something else important we forgot."

"Good idea." Dale settled the laptop on his knees. "Powers said you're... with the Bureau?"

"Yep, proud eagle. Cryptology expert," Bill said.

"Oh." He gave him a mildly surprised look. "Sorry, I don't think I remember you."

"No prob, Bob, I don't remember the Bureau either!"

Dale nodded slowly. "Riiight. Memory-erasing gun."

"Bingo," Bill said. "Powers and I'll tell you the whole story when we rendezvous. But maybe we should focus on the reports first, don't you think!"

"Right, of course." Dale turned his attention to the laptop.

And Bill slid out his phone and kept it behind Dale's seat, where he wouldn't notice Bill typing.

####

UNKNOWN: STAR GIRL WE HAVE A PROVBKDM

UNKNOWN: PROBLEM

UNKNOWN: APPARENTLY PANIC MAKES THUMBS SHAKE! I HATE FLESH SO MUCHH! HA HA!

MABEL: Who is this?

UNKNOWN: ITS BILL I STOLE A PHONE NOT IMPORTANT DONT TWLL ANYONE

(Ah. Mabel should have guessed that. She added his number to her phone.)

BILL: POLWERS AND TRIGGER ARE HEADWD TO THES HACK

BILL: THIA WASNT PART OF THE PLAN

BILL: TELL THE STANDS TO HIDE

BILL: STANS

MABEL: OK! I'm looking for them!

MABEL: What went wrong???

BILL: IDK THEY DIDNTR REACT LIKE THEY SHOUDL HAVE

BILL: POWERS SHOULD BE TOO TEIRFIFIED TO GET WITHIN A MILE OF THE SHACK INSTEAD HES ONT EHW WARPATH

BILL: HES FIGURED OUT WAAAAY MORE THAN HE SHOULD HAVE IDK WHATS GOING ON UNDER HIS STUPID OPAQUE SKULL

MABEL: Did they figure out we tricked them??? 🙀

BILL: NO HE BUYS IT FOR NOW. HE RAN THE WHOLE MARATHON HE JUST REFUSES TO CROSS THE FINISH LINE

BILL: BUT IF HE GETS HSI HANDS ON THE STAND WHO KNOWS

MABEL: OK, I warned them!

BILL: GOOD! TELL THEM THEY CANT HIDE BEHIND THE VENDING MACHINE PWOERS IS HEADED THERE FIRST

MABEL: Ummm... Grunkle Ford isn't hiding.

MABEL: He said he knows how to handle this.

BILL: NO NO NO NO NO

BILL: WAHTEVER HES DOIGN HE CANT DOT TAHAT

BILL: STAR GIRL LISTEN CAREFULLY

BILL: I NED YOU TO SCREAMJ IN HIS EAR UTNIL HIS EARDRUM RUUPTIURES. THAT SHOULD SLOW HIM DOWN

BILL: IF IT D OESNT WORK BITE HIS EAR OFF YOUR RBRACES SHOULD REALLY SHRED THE CARTILAGE

MABEL: He asked you to send whatever you can think of that the government people know about the agents but we shouldn't know.

BILL: WHY????

MABEL: IDK!! He went downstairs to get something.

MABEL: But it sounded important!

BILL: FGINE

BILL: IF THIS GOES WRONG ITS O NHIS ARROGANT LITTLE HEAD AND TELL HIM I SAAID SO

BILL: BUT DONT SHOW HIM MY TPYOS

####

"That vending machine might be booby trapped," Trigger said as they walked toward the shack's back door. "We lost our memories just as it was opened."

"We'll find Ramirez. He must know how to get behind the machine without triggering the trap." Beyond that, Powers intended to demand that Soos produce Stanford Pines—and, if he couldn't do that, then he'd better produce some damn good answers. Powers raised a hand to knock.

A voice behind them said, "It seems I got here just in time."

Trigger and Powers whirled around. Standing on the lawn—as casual and jarring as meeting a ghost from your childhood nightmares in the grocery store soup aisle, like running into something that hadn't quite ever been real—was the superior officer who'd taken their flash drive last summer.

"You!" Trigger said. "What are you doing here?!"

The officer barked, "Stopping you two knuckleheads from blundering into the same mistake you made last summer! And you're lucky I am. If Director Gunn had done his job right and contacted me, you wouldn't have made it this far."

A jolt of alarm shot up Powers's back. Director Gunn had sent them to Gravity Falls. Or allowed them to go—he'd been reluctant to let them continue on this case. Nobody outside the Bureau should have ever even heard the code name "Director Gunn."

"Instead," the officer went on, "I had to find out what you were up to from museum security when you triggered their silent alarm! Mr. Jake Armstrong," (Trigger flinched in surprise) "Mr. Gary Walter," (and then Powers's back went stiff) "just what do you have to say for yourselves?"

He was important enough to know their names. They didn't even know each other's names.

Powers took a deep breath. "That we want to speak to Stanford Pines."

The officer snorted, and for a fleeting second his stony expression cracked as a smirk curled up one corner of his mouth. Powers couldn't believe it. He genuinely thought their request was funny.

And that—that, of all things—was what finally cut through his anger enough for a little fear to trickle through.

"Well," he said, "I'm afraid you get to speak to me."

####

Bill stared at his phone as if the force of his glare could will it into coughing up another text from Mabel; and because of that, he saw the bright colors in the emoji of Mabel's next message fifteen minutes before the message itself actually arrived, and several minutes before the message was close enough that he could actually read what it said:

MABEL: 🎉🌈😎 We won!!! 😻☀️💃

He reread the message several times, as if he expected the future message to blur and disappear as they slid sideways into a less lucky timeline. But it remained clear—a future so probable it was almost guaranteed.

How the hell had Ford done that?

####

"As you may have guessed by now, this building isn't just a cheap tourist trap," the superior officer said. "What happens in here goes over your head, gentlemen. It goes over your entire bureau. It's a matter of international security."

"Why?" Powers demanded. "What's under this shack?"

"A top secret facility," the officer said.

"For what purpose?" Trigger asked.

"That's top secret," the officer said. "This whole affair is so classified that you should never have been assigned to investigate in Gravity Falls in the first place—but it was also so classified that we couldn't tell you there was something here you shouldn't be investigating. A SNAFU we're implementing measures to prevent in the future. And you two can help by leaving and never thinking about this place again."

It all clicked into place. Of course the Mystery Shack was a government facility.

He'd almost put it together earlier, but had been too distracted by the horror of realizing all he'd forgotten—but it was odd that Stan Pines had known exactly where to find that radioactive waste, much less how to get it all in and out of the facility in one night, wasn't it? Almost as if someone else had given him instructions on how to get it. Odd that based on the reports they'd found in the flash drive—and their resurfacing memories—it seemed that Stan had been on the verge of using a doomsday weapon... and then hadn't. As if it were a test. Odd that a "superior officer" had just so happened to come by so soon after the doomsday weapon's near activation, right after they'd forgotten everything. As if he were already on site.

It would have been utterly astounding if it wasn't so disgusting. The Department of Cover-Ups had covered up their own tracks so heavily that they'd gotten investigated by their own sub-department. And who had paid the price?

"It's too late for that," Powers said. "We already investigated it, we know something's happening here, and your attempt to make us forget failed. And I think we have a right to know what's in here that was worth erasing our memories over!"

"I'm afraid that's not possible," the officer said.

"Why not?" Trigger demanded. "All we want is to see it! We're not going to tell anyone—we're on the same side!"

Powers was closer to the shack than the officer was—and for the moment, the officer was focused on Trigger. Part of him was tempted to turn around, kick in the door, and head straight for that vending machine. If it came to a fight, it was two against one.

The officer said, "Because you already know too much! In fact, I'd be giving you the same treatment you got last year if I wasn't so sure that forgetting what happened again would just make you come straight back to town searching for it again."

Powers was suddenly acutely aware of the strap across the officer's chest leading to a shape at his hip that could only be seen when his coat moved just right—a shape the size of a bulky gun. And suddenly, the idea of turning his back on the officer seemed impossible.

"And you should consider yourselves lucky you get to leave with your memories," the officer went on. "The side-effects of repeated mind wipes aren't pretty. You've got a genetic predisposition for Alzheimer's, don't you, Mr. Walter? Your mother?" (Angry bile surged up his throat. His mother had been in a memory care facility for the past two years.) "We don't know yet if the gun exacerbates those odds. I'd hate for you to help us find out."

"Then you could have let us go last year!" Powers said. "If you'd just told us we'd stumbled into some secret operation and sent us home, we couldn't have done anything about it!" And if he was honest with himself, it wasn't the secret happenings under this second-rate tourist trap that bothered him. In this job he'd seen everything from A to Z—aliens to zombies. He doubted anything could truly shock him. No—what really bothered him was how he'd been kept from finding out. "Why didn't you just let us go last year?"

"For one thing, that's not how my department operates." (Powers had assumed Gravity Falls was an aberration. What made him so sure people weren't getting their memories erased all over the nation? What did he really know about how the Department of Cover-Ups worked?) "And for another," the officer said, "we needed a good excuse to test the long-range memory gun. And there you were, with several dozen men."

There you were. The words hit like a hammer to the heart. In the corner of his eye he could see Trigger turn toward him, looking for guidance; but Powers couldn't turn to meet his gaze. There they were, convenient guinea pigs for a weapon of mass amnesia. Was that all their government saw them as?

While Powers was feeling the bottom of his stomach drop out and plunge into the dark as his life upended itself, the officer's expression didn't even twitch. His stare was stony and unsympathetic, the creases in his cheeks and between his brows sharpened by the hard line of his mouth.

But although his expression didn't change, his voice did. It dropped into a wholly different accent, slower, smoother—and far more menacing. "You see, we'll take any measures necessary to ensure that this town's secrets... remain buried." The chill in the officer's voice seemed better suited to the dark hidden chambers collecting dust under the museum, the cold cavern beneath the angel in the graveyard. The man with the voice from the Blind Eye's stolen memories looked directly in Agent Powers's eyes and said, "Is my meaning clear?"

Powers's throat went dry.

Trigger had immediately tensed when the officer changed his voice, even though he couldn't know what it meant. (Or did he? Had he heard the voice once and forgotten, Powers wondered? Was it coming back?) "Sir, what's going...?"

"Yessir," Powers said hoarsely. "Perfectly clear."

The ghost of a smile twisted one corner of the superior officer's mouth. "So. What is going on here, agent?" His voice had returned to his usual gruff, militant bark. That was his real voice, Powers realized; hearing him in person, it was much more obvious than it had been in the recordings just how fake his British accent was. He must be working with the Society of the Blind Eye undercover—which meant this was his real job.

Powers should have listened to Goldie. She'd been right. It was stupid to think the Blind Eye might have backstabbed the government. The Blind Eye was the government.

In his mind's eye, he could see his own face twisted in terror, his arms strapped into the same chair where Goldie had been restrained as she'd lost her mind—just another video amongst the thousands that had been literally forgotten in the museum basement.

He swallowed hard. "Weather balloon," he said. "Or—or meteor shower. Nothing happened here."

The officer nodded sharply. "You're a smart man, Mr. Walter." He turned to Trigger. "What about you, Mr. Armstrong?"

Trigger gave Powers a bewildered look. For a moment, he looked ready to argue; but a sharp look from Powers deflated him. "Nothing unusual to report, sir," he said grudgingly.

"Good." The superior officer tilted his head. "I think your car's over there."

Powers could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raising as he walked away. He had to force himself not to glance over his shoulder to see if a memory gun was pointing at his back.

"What was that?" Trigger whispered. "Do you know him from somewhere else?"

"I'm afraid we all do."

"Where would—?"

"Later." Not until they got back to Dale.

And Goldie.

####

(Another chapter where I don't think I made any changes due to TBOB except futzing around with department names. But for TBOB-unrelated reasons, this one went through HEAVY revisions: initially Powers accepted Bill's version of the story much more easily, but then I went, no. We should terrify Bill a little first. And give Ford more to do.

I thought this chapter was gonna be the wrap-up, but then it doubled in length so I split it in two lmao. Next week for sure. Let me know what you think!!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #agent powers #grunkle ford #ford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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millers-girl · 9 days ago

Text

what comes after

epilogue of willow & whiskey

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: in the heart of summer, you finally settle into a normal life in Jackson... until your past comes knocking at the front gate.

warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, I think that's it for once lol

word count: 1.7k

series masterlist

“You know, I’m pretty sure I had a wet dream about this once.”

Joel nearly choked on the beer he was sipping, stunned by your words.

You grinned up at him, of course speaking of the sight of him standing in front of the grill, flipping patties and hot dogs alike. He was wearing a tight grey tee, a fitted pair of jeans blessed by the gods themselves, and cowboy boots to top it off – a dangerous combination, especially now, when you were ovulating.

His curls had grown out to a length you went absolutely feral for. It allowed you to tug, wrapping them around your fingers as he satiated the heat between your legs.

You slapped a hand on his back as he sputtered out the alcohol.

When his airways were clear, he muttered, “Angel, I don’t know if this family friendly barbecue is the place to be admittin’ that… especially not when you’re wearing that dress.”

His eyes trailed achingly slow down your body, taking in every inch of the flowy white sundress you were wearing.

Summer had settled in Jackson, marking precisely three months since you, Joel, and Ellie had arrived. Maria had graciously kept the house you’d stayed in vacant, waiting for you to return. But what surprised you the most was how much you missed Tommy. The moment Joel was done hugging him, you practically threw yourself at the younger Miller brother, letting him squeeze you comfortingly.

He felt like family long before either of you realized it.

And, like family, he was already prepared for your arrival. He signed Joel up for patrol the moment he got here, enrolled Ellie in the school, and even had a cushy job secured for you at the bakery. You couldn’t believe he’d remembered the one time you talked about it the last time you were here �� about wanting a normal life where you could just stay home and bake your heart out, like you remembered your mother doing when you were young.

Now, staying home wasn’t much of an option, but he could make the baking part happen, and he did. And you loved him for it.

Now, three months later, you, Joel, and Ellie were settling into routine in Jackson, with the horrors of everything that had happened in the winter behind you.

For the first few weeks in Jackson, you tried to assimilate to normal life—community movie nights, exchanging food recipes, even getting your haircut—but there was still a layer of unease beneath it all. You were sure Joel and Ellie felt it too, though you tried not to bring it up, tried to make the transition as smooth as possible for them. You, on the other hand, were constantly watching for shadows, checking your six, waiting for something to shatter this peace.

But nothing ever did.

Not even when new faces began to arrive from outside. The town was growing, prospering even, with all the new hands pitching in and brains thinking up novel ways to help. With the newcomers came rumors of settlements on the outside – murmurings of strange attacks, groups disappearing, whispers of people being “taken” or “sold.”

Tommy and Maria reassured everyone, promising them that they were safe; to your surprise, it comforted even you. The couple had been here for years, Maria since the inception of this town, and if they said it was safe, you owed it to them to believe it. To take the word of family and trust it.

That trust slowly built up over the past twelve weeks and now here you were, at the community barbeque in a white sundress, flirting with your man, with a sweet tea in one hand, a tupperware of strawberry shortcake in the other – and not a care in the world.

You balanced both as Joel pulled you in and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“Look who decided to finally show up,” came Tommy’s teasing tone from behind you two.

You pulled away from Joel, rolling your eyes and giving the younger Miller brother a hug too. “It took longer than Clara said for the cake to cool. You wanna eat a soggy cake, Miller?” You scrunched up your nose in disgust for added effect, making Tommy laugh.

“Alright, alright. Hand it over so I can put it in the fridge before it practically melts.” He took the tupperware from your hand, and you could finally wrap a free hand around Joel’s waist.

“And can you get someone else to cover the grill? I’m trying to kiss the chef.” Tommy waved it off, letting you two wander off as Mike came to take over.

Joel sat down on one of the lawn chairs with a grunt, and you perched yourself on the wide arm of his chair, feeling the coarse denim of his jeans brush against your bare thighs as he leaned back with another quiet groan of contentment.

His arm found your waist without effort as you listened in on a story Astrid was telling the group. His big hand rested low on your back, pulling you in. You tipped your head, watching the curve of his mouth as he took a long sip from his beer. There was an ease in him that you hadn’t seen in… well, ever, if you were being honest. His shoulders were loose, his eyes soft under the heavy line of his brows.

This is exactly what you pictured Joel might’ve been like before the outbreak – hosting summer barbeques in his Texas backyard, grilling while his brother played the social host part perfectly, with a content smile at his lips.

He caught you staring, lost in thought. “What?” he murmured, voice low and rough in a way that sent a thrill through you.

“Nothing,” you said innocently, leaning down so your lips brushed his ear. “Just enjoying the view.” He huffed out a laugh, and when you leaned back, you saw his eyes glued to the low neckline of your own dress. “You’re shameless, y’know that?”

“Just enjoying the view,” he quoted you, grinning as you shifted slightly to balance your weight on the arm of his chair. One hand smoothed over his shoulder, fingertips idly tracing the line of his collarbone through his shirt.

“Uh-huh,” you grinned. “That’s why you love me.”

Joel’s lips found your temple, warm and fleeting. “Damn right I do.”

As if on queue, Ellie’s laughter rose from somewhere nearby, bright and genuine and utterly childlike, the kind of laugh that made people turn their heads just to smile along with her. You glanced over to see her with a small group of friends – Dina, Jesse, and a few other kids her age, plus a few older teenagers, who were clearly taken with her sarcasm and quick wit.

She was leaning against the picnic table, waving her hands as she mimicked someone’s voice, drawing more laughter from her circle.

For a moment, you let yourself just be in that scene – the easy pulse of the community around you, the sun casting everything in gold, the simple weight of Joel’s hand on your waist, and the sound of Ellie’s laughter ringing clear like a bell.

All of it caused the day to pass in a blur. You chatted happily with your neighbors, slow-danced with Joel as Gustavo brought out his guitar, and settled beside him at the end of the night in front of the bonfire, as the eventful day began to catch up to you.

The peace was so complete, your eyes began to flutter shut, the sound of your community lulling you to sleep on the love of your life’s shoulder.

You almost didn’t notice the commotion starting by the front gates… almost.

A voice called from the wall, sharp enough to pierce the haze of laughter and chatter. “They’re back!”

People turned, a ripple of curiosity and anticipation passing through the crowd. Joel’s grip on you tightened slightly, the reflex of a man used to tension rising from nowhere. You let him help you up, squinting toward the gates as a small group came into view – dusty, tired, but alive.

“Must be Max and them returning from patrol,” Joel murmured. His hand slipped into yours, fingers intertwining – bracing for whatever news they brought.

By the way the crowd seemed to press on, it must’ve been an eventful shift.

But something about the atmosphere suddenly seemed off, like a sharp shift you hadn’t accounted for.

Even Ellie seemed to notice, drifting closer to you, laughter fading into the hush that had fallen over the gathering. You felt her presence at your side, small and solid.

Patrol was waving through two ragged figures – thin, dirty, heads down, one limping heavily. They looked half-dead, clothes torn and stained, like they hadn’t seen food or shelter in weeks. They looked in worse condition than anyone else you’d seen Jackson take in.

People around you murmured, concern flitting through the crowd. They watched the pair whose heads were bowed, grateful smiles on their faces as they murmured thanks.

A few of the Jackson residents moved forward with water and blankets, asking if they needed medical attention.

The taller of the two, limping slightly, glanced up – just for a second. His eyes, light and sharp beneath a mask of dirt and overgrown hair, flickered across the crowd.

And then his gaze locked onto yours, from a few yards away.

Your breath hitched, chest tightening painfully. Time slowed, the world fading around you.

You were convinced you hadn’t seen right. You couldn’t have.

But there he was.

Alive.

Here.

His face was thinner, the shadows beneath his eyes deeper, but the electric blue of his eyes—the way his curly hair drifted in front of his eyes as he blinked at you—was unmistakable. There he was, standing like a ghost, like a past you’d buried in the ruins of Boston.

“Is that…” Ellie’s voice broke through the quiet shock, low and uncertain, her eyes narrowing as she too caught the familiar line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth that tugged in a way she hadn’t seen since Boston.

Joel’s hand squeezed yours, making you look up at him with wide eyes before your gaze shifted back to the familiar figure.

“Nathan?” you whispered.

a/n: that's all for Willow & Whiskey, lovies – its sequel Ember & Evergreen is in the works!! I'll be tagging everyone from this original taglist but if you'd like to be removed (or added if you're not already), just let me know. Until then, happy reading x

taglist: @orcasoul @lizlil @littleshadow17 @joeldjarin @mrsyixingunicorn10 @luvwanda @escaping-reality8 @hoddystark @mmkkzz @victoriaholland @xodilfluvr @ilovetoomanymen @21tao @mystickittytaco @keileighr @buckyandlokirunmylife @deesparticus @underchaos @keepingitlokiii @silas-aeiou @underchaos @tjohn63 @princess76179 @umadirectioner @crlsummer @tanyaherondale @needz1nk

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siderusmysteriarch · 18 days ago

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Hey, pssssst— if you are looking for something to listen while washing dishes, I've got a list just for you,

● If you're into dark academia but with more trauma, less studying, mysterious British guys who emotionally malfunction, and horror stories that make you say “mood”. Try The Magnus Archives.

● If you’re into small towns where everything’s a little off (actually, a lot), radio hosts who are way too calm about it, and bizarre, inexplicable occurrences that are totally fine, then you’ve found your new home in Welcome to Night Vale.

Tune in, stay safe (or don’t), and remember:

the sheriff's secret police definitely aren’t listening.

● If you’re into road trips that go way off the beaten path, chasing something you can’t explain, and a haunting mystery that’ll make you question every car that drives by—

then Alice Isn’t Dead is your new obsession.

Buckle up, drive safely, and the people you’re looking for might be looking for you, too.

● Does the phrase “amnesiac eldritch horror with a thesaurus” excite you?

It does? Oh, you little freak.

Then you definitely need to try Malevolent. Also there is whimpering, male whimpering.

● Ever wonder what happens when you trap a bunch of dysfunctional coworkers on a spaceship with limited resources, a suspicious number of near-death experiences, and one emotionally complex AI? You get Wolf 359.

It’s like The Office—but in space, with more trauma bonding and fewer HR rules. Next time you're on a spaceship… check the air supply.

● Are you looking for unsettling horror, a sentient city and unreliable reality? Are you looking for a monotonous narration? Are you looking for I'm in Eskew?

Think.

● Have you ever wondered if your summer camp was just a little... off? Like, dangerously quirky?

Maybe it has a nurse with questionable credentials, several mental disorders, and an unsettling love for worms?

No? You haven't? Weird. Camp Here and There.

● Hello from the Hallowoods. A forest where the trees remember. Where silence isn’t empty—it's waiting.

The world as you knew it ended here. But the story? That’s just beginning.

Listen closely. You might not like what you hear.

● There are things that lurk behind the veil of normal. Objects that don’t follow physics. Creatures that don’t obey God.

They find them. They contain them. They pretend the world is still safe.

You were never meant to know. SCP Foundation.

● If you’ve ever clipped through reality and landed in a buzzing yellow hallway that never ends...

Congratulations. You’re already a traveler.

This guide won’t save you. But it might tell you what not to look at.

The Traveler’s Guide to the Backrooms. Mind the damp. And the screaming.

● Now, if you’re like me and sometimes can’t handle complex storylines, freeze up every time a new character shows up, or feel too lazy to open the wiki just to remember who that guy from episode 3 was? I get it.

Try Tales from the Breakroom, Unexplained Encounters or anything from Eriecast Network.

Enjoy the horrors and forget when the episode ends.

● Do you know Japan holds events where people gather to exchange scary stories? Cool, right.

God, I wish my country did too, since it doesn't I guess I have to listen to Kaiden: Japanese Scary stories.

● Do you like magic, dragons, daring quests… and unexpected romantic tension?

The Two Princes is a fantasy audio drama where two rival princes set out to save their kingdoms—and accidentally fall in love along the way. It’s got sword fights, sass, heartfelt moments, and enough gay yearning to power a castle.

If you’ve ever wanted a fairy tale that’s charming, funny, and unapologetically queer—this is it. Adventure awaits. So does Prince Amir. (And he’s very handsome.)

● Love and Luck podcast is a sweet, queer love story told through voicemails—with a touch of magic. Set in Melbourne, it’s about building love, community, and kindness. Short episodes, big heart, no tragic endings. Just good vibes and quiet enchantment.

● Maybe you are not looking for fiction but real things, true crimes, perhaps that send chills down your spine thinking how can humans be like this? as cherry on top?

Look no further for you are looking for Crimehub: A true crime podcast.

● What if vampires were less “terrifying monster” and more “dramatic queer disaster”?

All Vampires Are Gay is a bold, funny, and emotional audio drama that reclaims vampire lore with sharp fangs and sharper wit.

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facefullofsadness · 9 months ago

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when succubus!winrina are summoned

g!p demon!jiminjeong x human!reader

smut, 2k wc

happy extremely belated birthday (like can I even classify this as a bday post anymore?) to the most annoying person I know @aliceiwk because she didn't wanna tell me her bday even though I was gonna find out eventually bc I was gonna post this ANYWAY. is late as FUCK (literally an entire month PLUS late omg) bc of school, travel, other reasons wtv, but that wasn't gonna stop me!!! soooo yes mwah mwah lub u enjoy ur jiminjeong threesome!!

when yizhuo and aeri had the bright idea of doing a silly little demon summoning session for funsies, you screamed at them in horror. what the actual fuck kind of idea is that? the two girlfriends' justification was simply for shits and giggles! I mean, that shit isn't real anyway, right? there's no ACTUAL fucking shot demons would come to haunt you guys if you tried conjuring em up!

somehow, someway, yall ended up in a circle with some candles, some salt, a shady looking book, and a dark ass room. being in the actual moment sent chills down your spine, the summer nights being quite cold to accompany such a stupid idea you and your friends were going through with. when your last minute effort to back out, stop, and instead watch horror movies to get their spooky fill failed, the two girls begin flipping pages of the book.

"what aboutttt demon of gluttony?" the small girl asks, pondering which demon to summon.

"there's not a lot of things to do with that," the taller girl replies, one arm propped up behind her girlfriend, checking her nails on the other hand.

"demon of wrath?"

"we've all got enough anger combined to need that one."

"demon of sloth!"

"fuck does that even mean?"

"ooohhhh!! y/n desperately needs this one, demon of lust."

"oh, perfect!"

"hey wait what is that supposed to mean?!" you butt in.

"now now, it's okay to badly want head! we're just helping you out!"

aeri raises her hands up and reaches out to pull you into the chair placed in the middle of a pentagram surrounded in candles. you put your face in your hands, shaking your head at the reality of what was currently happening.

"now just sit tight and soon enough you'll stop complaining about your celibacy!"

performing the ritual was goofier than you expected it to be. with the accompaniment of yizhuo's unserious reading of the spell, aeri's cackle everytime her girlfriend stuttered, and forgetting to pause the music, having txt's blue hour playing in the background, it was hard to take anything seriously. having to go through with the summoning ritual twice because the first time was so botched, thinking doing it again would make sure it "worked".

unsurprisingly, nothing happened. ning was disappointed, to which aeri had to kiss away her pout, but you were relieved because what the fuck would have possibly happened if it worked? you sent the girls home after making them clean the stupid ritual up, collapsing on your mattress and passing out.

in the dead of night, two figures emerge from the shadows, the darkness of your room enveloping the strangers. you're completely asleep, your peaceful breathing and spinning ceiling fan the only white noise to mask the echoey voices across the room.

"what are you doing here?"

"I was summoned, I could ask the same question to you."

"why would I purposefully go somewhere you are?"

"it's simple, you're obsessed with me or something."

"not as obsessed as you are with me."

the shadowy figures huff in the darkness before staring back at your slumbering body.

one of them smirks and scoffs, "horny slut must've summoned both of us."

"how fascinating, I was worried it was gonna be a man again," the other figure tilts her head to the side, observing your sleeping face.

"ugh, one thing we can finally agree on, men aren't nearly as fun or tempting as women."

the being observing your face brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes, "girls are just so delicious."

the two look at each other and exchange a sinister smile, almost agreeing to be civil through eye contact.

"then let's have our fun tonight yeah, winter?"

"only if you share, karina."

you were awoken to your body being thrown around, your back sinking into the mattress, wrists pinned on either side of you, eyes shooting open with a gasp, shaking you out of your sleep. foggy sight clearing and eyes adjusting to the darkness slowly as two figures come into view, women (?), or as your mind would rationalize them to be.

two shadowy women with rustic obsidian horns growing through their skulls, dark tails swaying behind them, black leather-like wings spanning out from their backs, and dark red orbs emanating aura from their eyes. you're frozen into place, your eyes doing all the talking as they observe the figures pinning you down with their talon-like claws, skimpy leather outfits hugging the pale women's milky skin.

you want to scream, thrash, do something, but all you can do is stare at them, eyes darting back and forth between the dark-haired and blonde creatures.

"awww, look at her, such an innocent little thing," the blonde coos, her voice reverberating, almost as if she had a filter over it.

the dark haired girl replies, voice heavy with reverb and seduction, "but she's not, she needed to be fucked senseless by two of us, isn't that right?"

you're speechless, mouth opening to answer but no noise escaping. no way... was this a result of that stupid summoning ritual you guys did earlier that night? it... worked? BOTH TIMES???

"can't speak, can you? do humans not understand what consequences of your actions mean? didn't your people come up with that saying?" the darker one pouts, pulling back from your face to straddle one of your legs, knee slotting itself perfectly between your thighs.

the blonde one giggles, her sinister tone sending shivers down your spine, "fuck I cannot wait to consume you, you're extremely enticing."

somehow, you speak, voice heavy with confusion, fear, and exhaustion, "what the fuck are you?"

the two exchange a sly smirk, looking at each before turning back to you, "exactly what you asked for, demons of lust."

succubus, it had clicked in your head as you further observed their features, feeling their nails digging into your skin, the pain confirming you were in fact not dreaming.

"don't worry little one, we'll give you everything you want."

the blonde demon's tail wraps around both of your wrists, the dark-haired demon releasing you from her grip, letting the other pin your hands down and back above you. the blonde settles next to your head, her crotch emanating heat in front of your face. she takes a handful of your hair and grips the back of your head, pulling your face up and lowering herself to meet you, your scalp stinging in her hold.

"be a good fucking whore and let us do what we want with you, you'll enjoy every second of it."

she pushes your cheek against her crotch, her addicting scent filling your nose, feeling her hard appendage press against your face. meanwhile, the dark-haired girl between your thighs digs her knee against your core, whimpering at the pressure, having only worn panties and a t-shirt to bed.

the taller girl's cold hands grip your exposed thighs, digging her nails into your skin, making you hiss. she trails her hands under your shirt, ghosting her fingers over your waist and dragging her claws across your stomach. her hands are greedy, moving at a moderate pace but every touch is so intense and rough, knuckles now rubbing against your soaking underwear, friction brushing against your clit.

everything happens so fast as you swear you black out every few seconds the more their touches advance on your body. before you know it, you're choking on the demon called winter, the other succubus grinding her knee against your bare pussy being karina. you moan against the blonde's cock as she thrusts mercilessly into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat as tears spill from your eyes, the pleasure from the dark-haired girls needy hands on your hips forcing your body to roll against her knee with your panties pushed to the side, cunt leaking with your juices, making the movements slick, your eyes rolling back at the sensation.

"yeah little slut? like that big cock in your throat? can't speak huh? fucking whore," winter degrades above you, holding your head with both of her hands to control just how relentlessly she ruins your throat.

karina chuckles darkly below you, watching her pull away and lower her face to your pulsing core, "she is a whore, just look at how fucking wet this bitch is. she's practically a waterfall of cum."

through blurry, tear-filled eyes, you watch as karina's split tongue circled your hot clit, feeling its unforgiving movements dance across your aching slit as it flicks against your bud and hole simultaneously somehow. not that you question it, falling into an inevitable sub-space, your mind completely broken just as quickly as they had started fucking you.

you feel winter's member so deeply down your throat, it bulges in your neck, her rugged panting and breathing making the onslaught of your body worth it. all your noises are choked and silent however, karina's skillful mouth maneuvering your burning insides and throbbing outsides, the hums from her throat vibrating against your entire pussy. the sensation of winter's creamy cum flowing down your throat makes you roll your eyes back, not needing to swallow as her load slides down your esophagus easily.

"couldn't you be at least a little patient?" an annoyed karina pulls away from your pussy to complain, tugging your limp body up against her chest, winter's cock slipping from your swollen mouth.

the blonde's heavy breathing is accompanied by a reverberating chuckle as she responds, "don't be jealous, you get to taste the bitch's pussy, I should be the aggravated one."

the taller girl replies with a grunt, "fine, but I'm cumming in her cunt first."

"oh no, we're sharing that fucking hole," you feel the other succubus' body heat on your back, pressing her front against you, her still hard monster cock tapping against your ass.

"you are so fucking annoying," karina mumbles before pulling out her hard dick and slipping it between your folds, collecting your slick, pushing into your tight hole as you scream painfully at the intrusion.

she immediately sets an unforgiving pace, mercilessly pounding her throbbing member into your aching heat, holding you against her chest by your waist, your face in her shoulder as you sobbed in pain, the pleasure slowly creeping in. the girl behind you spits on her dick, spreading the saliva before forcing herself in you too, joining karina's relentless thrusting. tears flow from your eyes as bloodcurdling screams escape your already sore throat, the two demons' lengthy and girthy cocks tearing your tight cunt apart, drool leaking from your mouth as your brain abandons consciousness, completely broken and ruined from them fucking you.

winter pants against your ear as her hands sink into your hips, drilling you from behind, "you're gone now, aren't you doll? you've become our little cumslut to treat like a toy, haven't you?"

her words don't process in your fucked out head, nodding mindlessly to her question.

karina against you moans as your pussy squeezes around both of them, pushing in as winter pulls out, "taking us so well, little whore. that's right, be the good fucking slut you are and take it. take all of it."

they continue to absolutely annihilate your insides with their aggressive ramming, never stopping as they used your body like a sextoy, throwing you around like a ragdoll, pounding into you like you were just their property. the sound of wet skin slapping together and their loud, frustrated breathing filled your barely functioning auditory senses as you feel both of them stiffen against you, hot cum filling you, stuffing you full of their seed.

your lifeless body slumps against karina's front, winter holding you up as someone, unsure of who due to your barely conscious state, breathlessly comments against your ear, "we're far from finished, little one."

and they keep their word, not stopping the entire night, their split tongues working in tandem on each of your nipples, lapping at both of your holes as they seep pleasure, their cocks exploring every inch of your greedy orifices, letting you feel every bit of lust they harbor towards your mortal body. they fuck you until you break, until they ruin every part of you, until your begs and pleads grow silent, until time ceases to exist, the only thing in your sorry brain you can possibly process are karina and winter. and maybe when you're free, you'll thank aeri and yizhuo.

a/n: yeah their cocks probably have ridges and stuff but I didn't think about that while writing it, maybe next time <3 #welovemonstercock !!! can this even be classified as a short like this shit is long, oh whale

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doodle-pops · 5 months ago

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When You Flirt With Them For Fun

Headcanons: Maedhros, Celegorm, Finrod, Glorfindel, Elrond

Request: [Mixed Selection] May I request headcanons for a flirty human reader with Celegorm, Finrod, Glorfindel, Maedhros and Elrond? Reader is flirting with them but she actually has no romantic interest in them. Genre and being sfw/nsfw don't matter for me - dealer's choice. Thank you in advance!!

A/N: I went with the SFW route that was slightly suggestive, it felt more befitting given the ‘non-romantic interest’ and I was in the mood for a good laugh. This was just a lovely request, anon. Thank you for the request!

Synopsis: When you decide to flirt with them despite being romantically uninterested in them, all for the sake of fun.

Masterlist | Navigation

Maedhros

𑁍 You had no idea how you ended up befriending Maedhros, but once you did, you realised something very important: the Eldar were woefully unprepared for human audacity, and Maedhros, in particular, had absolutely no idea what to do with you.

𑁍 “You should smile more,” you told him once, watching as he adjusted his vambrace with that usual, distant intensity. “I bet it’d make all the ladies swoon.”

𑁍 He blinked at you, unimpressed. “I am a Prince of the Noldor. My concerns are not—”

𑁍 “Oh, so you already have them swooning? I should’ve known.” You smirked, tapping a finger against your chin in mock contemplation. “Is it the brooding thing? Or the battle scars? Or maybe it’s the hair—tell me, Maedhros, how many maidens have tried to braid flowers into it?”

𑁍 The strangled noise he made was priceless. It became a game after that. You, being utterly shameless, and Maedhros, being utterly unprepared for someone who flirted without actually meaning it.

𑁍 “Would you catch me if I fell?” you asked once, lounging across a bench like some ancient philosopher contemplating the meaning of life. And Maedhros, ever pragmatic, glanced at you and said, “You are sitting down.”

𑁍 “Hypothetically.”

𑁍 “...I suppose, yes.”

𑁍 “Would you cradle me in your arms and whisper soft reassurances?”

𑁍 “No.”

𑁍 “What if I cried a little?”

𑁍 He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose like he was summoning every ounce of patience left in his soul. You were his worst nightmare.

𑁍 Once, after a particularly ridiculous exchange, Maglor (who found you endlessly entertaining) finally asked, “Are you actually trying to court my brother?”

𑁍 “Oh, absolutely not,” you replied without hesitation. “I just like to see if I can make him malfunction.” The absolute horror on Maedhros’ face was a thing of beauty.

𑁍 “You are malfunctioning,” Maglor pointed out.

𑁍 “I am not—”

𑁍 “Name one time you’ve reacted normally to them.”

𑁍 Maedhros opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Then just glared at you. “This is entirely your fault.”

𑁍 You gave him a dazzling smile and fluttered your lashes. “And yet, you keep me around. Hmm. Almost like you enjoy my presence.”

𑁍 “I do not,” he lied blatantly.

𑁍 Eventually, Maedhros stopped protesting, but the sighs of long-suffering continued. You were convinced that, despite his protests, he secretly enjoyed your antics. After all, he never once told you to stop.

Celegorm

𑁍 Celegorm first mistook you for a genuine suitor, which was honestly on him. You had flirted outrageously, batting your lashes and trailing your fingers along his arm while calling him ‘my mighty hunter.’ He had puffed up like a peacock, utterly convinced that you had fallen for his rugged charm.

𑁍 “I understand,” he had said gravely one evening, after you had draped yourself over the back of his chair and whispered something about strong hands and archery skill. “It is difficult to resist me.”

𑁍 You nearly choked on your wine. “Oh, you sweet summer child,” you laughed, patting his shoulder. “I just like watching you squirm.”

𑁍 Celegorm sat there, utterly frozen, like a man who had just been hit by a metaphorical wagon. He stared at you, at the sheer audacity, before narrowing his eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game, human.”

𑁍 “Oh, but you’re so fun to mess with,” you grinned, winking.

𑁍 After that, Celegorm dedicated himself to turning the tables. He flirted back with wild intensity, cornering you in halls with smirks and murmured threats of “revenge.” It became a game, a constant back-and-forth of smouldering looks and ridiculous one-liners. The moment you actually backed off, he huffed in disappointment. “What, giving up already?”

𑁍 “Of course not,” you grinned, sauntering past. “I just like keeping you on edge.”

𑁍 One day, he finally called your bluff, leaning down so close his breath brushed your ear. “You talk big, but I don’t think you could handle me.”

𑁍 You burst into laughter so hard you had to clutch your ribs. “Oh, Tyelko, if I wanted to handle you, I’d have done it already.”

𑁍 He stared. You sauntered away, leaving the great hunter standing there, looking more hunted than ever.

Finrod

𑁍 Finrod had your number from the start. The very first time you tried to lean into him and sigh about how ‘utterly entrancing’ his eyes were, he simply raised a golden brow and smirked. “Oh, is that so?”

𑁍 You pouted. “Must you ruin my fun?”

𑁍 “I would never, but I am curious—do you say this to all elves, or am I special?” he purred, clearly amused.

𑁍 “Oh, you’re special, all right,” you grinned, tapping his chest. “Most elves just blush and stammer. You, however, are proving to be a challenge.”

𑁍 Finrod delighted in the game. He indulged you with little flourishes—offering his hand with an elegant bow, leaning in when you whispered something ridiculous, murmuring things in Quenya just to watch you shiver dramatically and sigh, “Oh, if only I knew what that meant!”

𑁍 “It means, ‘You’re absolutely shameless, and I adore it.’”

𑁍 You gasped, pressing a hand to your heart. “Finrod! And here I thought you were an honourable prince.”

𑁍 “Ah, but honour and amusement are not mutually exclusive,” he grinned.

𑁍 He was insufferable. Worse, he was better at this than you were. One night at a feast, he casually kissed the back of your hand and murmured, “My dear, if you keep looking at me like that, I may start to believe you.”

𑁍 “Oh, don’t do that,” you laughed, squeezing his hand. “I’d hate to break your heart.”

𑁍 “You overestimate your power, my dear,” he chuckled, though his eyes shone with a twinkle.

𑁍 “Oh, do I?” you purred, trailing a finger up his arm. “You wouldn’t be the first elf I’ve made weak in the knees.”

𑁍 “And yet, I am still standing,” he mused. “A mystery indeed.”

𑁍 “Well,” you smirked, “there’s still time.”

Glorfindel

𑁍 Glorfindel was used to admiration. Being a golden-haired, heroic Balrog-slayer tended to make one rather popular. He was not, however, used to your particular brand of shameless flirting.

𑁍 The first time you called him ‘the most devastatingly handsome warrior this side of the sea,’ he nearly choked on his drink. “I beg your pardon?”

𑁍 “Oh, don’t be shy,” you teased, elbowing him. “You know you’re devastatingly handsome. I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

𑁍 He recovered quickly. Too quickly. “Oh? And are you thinking about me often, then?”

𑁍 You grinned. “Only in my most sinful dreams.”

𑁍 Glorfindel coughed. You watched, delighted, as a flush rose high on his cheeks. “You are scandalous,” he muttered, shaking his head.

𑁍 “And you like it,” you sing-songed, linking your arm through his.

𑁍 From that moment on, he was both wary and intrigued. You kept him on his toes, throwing winks and suggestive remarks his way whenever the opportunity arose. One time, after he returned from a sparring match, you fanned yourself dramatically. “By the stars, is it hot in here, or is it just you?”

𑁍 He stared at you, sweat still glistening on his brow. “Do you ever stop?”

𑁍 “Why would I?” you asked, propping your chin on your hand. “You’re such an easy target.”

𑁍 “I am not an easy target,” he huffed, crossing his arms.

𑁍 “Oh, Glorfindel,” you sighed, shaking your head. “You poor, oblivious thing.”

𑁍 One day, he turned the tables on you, cornering you in a hallway and leaning in just close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. “Tell me, my sweet tormentor,” he murmured, “what would you do if I took your teasing seriously?”

𑁍 You blinked up at him, your brain stalling for a moment before you grinned and placed a finger on his chest. “I’d be very flattered,” you said, trailing your hand down his tunic before giving him a light shove. “But I’d still be messing with you.”

𑁍 Glorfindel groaned, his face forming a grimace. “You are intolerable.”

𑁍 “And yet, you keep coming back,” you sing-songed, winking as you strolled away.

𑁍 He watched you go, muttering something about humans and their wicked ways. But later, when you caught him smiling to himself, you knew he secretly loved every second of it.

Elrond

𑁍 “Lord Elrond,” you greeted with a smile that was all teeth. “I just want to say that you have the most magnificent bone structure I have ever seen. Have you ever considered the impact of your jawline on the mortal population?”

𑁍 Elrond, to his credit, barely reacted. “No, I have not.”

𑁍 “Tragic. I fear you underestimate its power.” He did not dignify that with a response.

𑁍 It became a sport after that. You flirted. He ignored you. You got more ridiculous. He remained completely, frustratingly composed.

𑁍 “Do you ever get tired of being the most attractive person in the room?” you asked one day, chin in hand, watching him review some diplomatic scrolls.

𑁍 “No,” he replied absently, eyes still scanning the parchment. “It is a burden I have learned to bear.”

𑁍 You choked on your drink. “Oh—so you do have a sense of humour!”

𑁍 His lips twitched, and you swore, just for a second, you saw a glimmer of amusement in those grey eyes.

𑁍 He got his revenge once. You had leaned in far too close, examining his ever-stoic features like some fine work of art, when he turned his head abruptly and murmured, “You are staring, my friend. Do you wish to kiss me?”

𑁍 You jerked back so fast you nearly fell out of your chair. “No!”

𑁍 “Ah,” he said, entirely unbothered, turning back to his scrolls. “How unexpected.”

𑁍 Sometimes, the elves who served him gave you looks of sheer disbelief. You were speaking to Elrond Peredhel, leaning casually against his desk and saying things like, “What if I wrote you a love poem?”

𑁍 “Please do not.”

𑁍 “Too late, I’ve already started. ‘O Elrond, fairest of the fair, with hair like—’ ”

𑁍 “No.” You could almost see him regretting ever acknowledging your presence.

𑁍 Glorfindel, who had been watching the entire ordeal with great amusement, leaned over and whispered, “I have never seen him so consistently harassed before. You are a marvel.”

𑁍 “Thank you,” you said, preening.

𑁍 And yet, despite all his sighs and why must you do this looks, Elrond never once dismissed you. If anything, you sometimes caught him glancing at you with that small, knowing smile of his, like he found you far more entertaining than he’d ever admit.

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @ladyenchanted @stormchaser819 @addaigio @lamemaster @hermaeuswhora @elficially-done-with-life @eunoiaastralwings @feanorynz

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myth-blossom · 2 years ago

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Don’t Hesitate

I wrote an angsty mission-gone-wrong fic for the Summer of Horror Exchange! You can read it at the link below :)

Please make sure go check out the awesome Hitman fics from the exchange HERE!!

Fandom: Hitman (Video Games)

Relationship: Agent 47/Diana Burnwood

Rating: Teen And Up

Summary:

Diana helps 47 to safety after a mission goes horribly wrong. Unfortunately, he can’t escape his past.

#Summer of Horror Exchange #hitman #hitman fandom #hitman fanfiction #agent 47 #diana burnwood #agent 47/diana burnwood #diana/47

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diana-fortyseven · 1 year ago

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Summer of Horror Exchange is running again this year, and tag set nominations are currently open!

Nominations Open: April 28, 7:00 PM EDT Nominations Close: May 5, 11:59 PM EDT Signups Open By: May 7, 11:59 PM EDT Signups Close: May 14, 11:59 PM EDT Assignments Sent By: May 16, 11:59 PM EDT Works Due: July 6, 11:59 PM EDT Collection Reveals: July 13, 11:59 PM EDT Creator Reveals: July 20, 11:59 PM EDT

You can find the rules here. The tag set is here. Here are the horror subgenres for this exchange.

This is what I nominated. If what you'd want to offer or request is missing, feel free to add it yourself (or ask me to add it if you don't have an AO3 account yet)!

Summer of Horror only accepts &-nominations for relationships. You can still signal in your sign-up that you'd be open to receiving a /-gift, but it's not guaranteed that you'll get one.

If you want to participate and don't have an AO3 account yet, queue up now! If you won't receive your invite in time before sign-ups close, contact the exchange mods.

And if you're in the mood for horror now, here are last year's Hitman fics written for this exchange! :D

#Hitman Fandom #Fandom Events #Exchanges & Events #Summer of Horror 2024

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fanwork-exchange-promos · 1 year ago

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[MULTIFANDOM] SUMMER OF HORROR EXCHANGE 2024 NOMINATIONS OPEN

Posted by: summerofhorrorexchange summerofhorrorexchange | Summer of Horror Exchange 2024 Collection | Tagset Summer of Horror is a gift exchange focusing on horror fic and art across all kinds of fandoms. Work minimums are 500 words or a piece of art (no manips), either digital or on unlined paper. You must be 18+ to participate. Schedule Nominations Open: April 28, 7:00 PM EDT Nominations Close: May 5, 11:59 PM EDT Signups Open By: May 7, 11:59 PM EDT Signups Close: May 14, 11:59 PM EDT Assignments Sent By: May 16, 11:59 PM EDT Works Due: July 6, 11:59 PM EDT Collection Reveals: July 13, 11:59 PM EDT Creator Reveals: July 20, 11:59 PM EDT comments via The Fandom Calendar https://ift.tt/1uGJNeO

#[MULTIFANDOM] SUMMER OF HORROR EXCHANGE 2024 NOMINATIONS OPEN

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cloversnstrawberries · 5 months ago

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"eschatological hope" platonic!yandere!albert wesker & B.O.W!teen!reader [twoshot] [pt 1] ! !

masterlist !

description; You're one of many 'subjects' of a strange underground facility, one that sources their patients from survivor shelters outside of cities affected by outbreaks, specifically ones catered to children who are either orphaned or lost their parents amongst the chaos. One day, the emergency alarm begins blaring; the pre-recorded code said through the announcement system was unfamiliar.

You took it as a chance to run, to escape this hell-- it was the best opportunity you could ever ask for. Too bad it doesn't go you your way.

additional notes; hello! this definitely was just supposed to be a oneshot, but i lost hold on my self restraint and just want to really start off my resident evil writing with a bang . i really love this idea, and i'm a sucker for religious imagery and references, so :) but also, there's a scary lack of platonic!yan albert wesker... i plan to amend that in the coming weeks as i dive headfirst into this special interest on here. it's not going away. help.

also! reader is intended to be a younger teen, around ~14/15 in here, but can be interpreted as younger or older!

warnings; Child experimentation, body horror, betrayal, mentions of the apocalypse, canon-typical bloods, guts, gore, and violence, death of a child/mentioned deaths of children (not reader), child abuse, guns, general terror, non-consensual body modification (the scientists altered reader with a virus strain </3), not very yandere in this part, but oh boy will shit hit the fan in the second part, heavy religious symbolism and references (which will only get more obvious in the next part), slightly soft Albert Wesker, and there might be more that I missed! if so, please be sure to let me know!!

w/c; 7.7k (oh lord)

I was so close, you mournfully thought-- your cheek pressed to the cold tile, a guard's boot dug into the back of your skull as he put more and more pressure onto your cranium.

You were so close to make it out of here- out of here alive. You'd seen countless other... subjects, is all they saw you as; come and go from this strange, underground facility.

It always ended the same, whether or not they tried to escape.

You were a fool to think you were any different.

You'd made it the longest, survived the most tests. You were weak, muscles atrophied and dizzy from how small the portions of the meals they gave you were-- even if they could hardly be called that.

Scraps. They were just scraps, just enough to keep you alive; but just small enough to discourage this kind of stunt.

They keep you weak, keep you under their thumb until the time came to crush you down beneath it. You'd witnessed this many times-- you're not sure how many, no longer seeing a reason to keep track of the numbers.

Last you'd counted, it'd been at 38. 38 dead, either shot because they tried to escape, or...

Jamie had been a good friend to you, throughout this hell of an experience. In hushed whispers, they'd tell you stories of their life; they lived so differently from yourself, having hailed from sunny California.

You exchanged stories about the crazy weather phenomena you'd experienced, the snow storms that hit Arklay county mid-October a few years back, was traded for a story about how the highest temperature they'd suffered through was a whopping 131 degrees in the dead of summer.

But now, there was no Jamie.

There was only the thing left in their place, an awful amalgamation of... oh god, you can't even pick it apart. So many things-- eyes of a goat, five legs; two sprouting from their back like a dinosaurs spine, and one burst out of their shoulder.

Their face was near-unrecognizable, their voice no better off. You could hardly understand the words they were saying-- and they were words, you knew that much-- as they curled their hand, as crushed and mangled and deformed as it was, around your ankle.

You stood there, frozen with terror-- unknowing of what-- no, who, this was; until you caught sight of a chunk of long hair, once dyed a vibrant red atop light blonde hair-- all that was left was a faded red, their roots having grown in a good 2 or 3 inches, coming from what you assumed to the top of the thing's skull.

"Jamie?" You'd muttered, voice small and broken. You no longer tried to fight the hold on your leg, simply stared down in abject horror. You didn't notice the alarm begin to ring, nor the flashing red of the emergency lights-- the call of a code over the intercom, summoning all available personal to deal with a "Code 96".

It-- They, nodded; or it seemed like it, a jerk of what must've been their head. What came from the thing-- no, Jamie's mouth next, made your heart go from nearly beating out of your chest to terribly, deathly still, as you realize what they'd been trying to say the entire time.

"Kill... me..." they'd rasped, all semblance of their fiery but intelligent personality gone, replaced with a simple need to be put out of their misery.

You had no means to do so, but as you heard boots rushing down the echoing hallways-- making their way to the adolescent patient's barracks where they kept you all, you knew that they did.

You sunk to your knees, and you held your friend until the guards came in, one tasked with evacuating the other subjects; not wanting any to accidentally get hurt, because then that'd just be a waste of resources-- pulled you from your friend, who let out a horrifying sort of shriek.

Your hand outstretched, as they fumbled to reach out; unable to grab yours in time, you were pulled form the room just as rounds and rounds of gunshots sounded behind you. The door had barely been shut before it started, dents made in the dense metal scared you deeply-- but the bullets never did make it through the material.

Or because the experiments got to them first. The things they inject you all with, the tests and strange sets of tasks that hardly coincide with each other-- the things that somehow make nearly everyone turn into some sort of monster,

Some kept their mind, like Jamie had, and some didn’t.

You’d had an awful feeling that your time would come soon, when all the weird injections and ‘medicines’ and ‘treatments’ finally got to you.

In some ways, you’d accepted that. The fact that you’d probably never make it out, that you’d just be another lost subject. A waste of resources.

Not a living, breathing child that they stole away from a survivor’s shelter after an outbreak hit your city and you fled— and were able to do so, because you were all alone.

You had hopes and dreams— ones that would be splattered across the frigid tile floor any second now, along with your blood and brain matter.

Sometimes the guards were kind, they gave one shot right at the crown of your head— killing you instantly.

Sometimes they wanted to have a little ‘fun’ as they called it. Nobody but the guards found it fun, how they’d toy with the kids as they killed them— the scientists and ‘doctors’ found it wasteful of their time, a disgrace that they spent more time than necessary on terminating a subject.

The other kids, yourself included, found it horrifying. In the dark of night, when you all knew the cameras weren’t as heavily watched as before— the guards weren’t standing where they were supposed to in the patient barracks, you’d spread stories about how the staff were really the monsters.

You’d say that one has a second face hidden beneath her giant, fluffy blonde hair. The others kids said that one of the guards, a particularly cruel one which none of you knew the name of, secretly had a third eye— that’s why he never took off the guard gear, which most every other one did at some point, for one reason or another.

And as you lay here, feeling your nose shift as the pressure of the boot on your head increased, your face pressing harder and harder into the tile— you come to the dreadful realization that they’re going to have their ‘fun’ with you.

You hope they get in trouble with their superiors— really, you do. Because with the red emergency lights going, causing a terrible headache to form right behind your eyes— and the alarm blared, a pre-recorded voice calling over the intercom;

They shouldn’t be here, taking their sweet time with a patient that’d broken off from the rest. Honestly, you thought you could get away with it, in the chaos of them evacuating all patients; or, all patients worth saving.

Noticeably, the barracks that held the younger kids, all below 6, were not evacuated. If anything, they weren’t making any move to free the poor things— the door still locked, probably.

“You know,” The guard began to say, and you recognized that voice. Oh, oh God did you recognize it.

You thought he was nicest of the bunch— he always did his best to help you. In quiet, dark corners where the cameras wouldn’t reach, he’d give you a hug to hide the way he handed you some extra food.

Sometimes you’d smuggle it back to the barracks, to distribute among the most malnourished of you all. Sometimes he’d have you eat it right then and there, to make sure you got extra nutrients.

“So you can grow big and strong,” He’d say. That implied that’d you’d make it further than a year in this hellhole.

He’d even told you his name-- his first one, not his last one; the one he was supposed to only be known as, something he really wasn’t meant to do— he called you by your name as well, your real one, not the serial code you were assigned when you got here.

“Na-than—“ You stumbled out, letting out a cry of pain as he cruelly, oh-so-cruelly, put all of his weight on the foot currently crushing your skull.

He took it off within a few seconds, not wanting you to die so quickly. It’d be a mercy, considering what the other guards tend to do with the subjects they have their sick ‘fun’ with.

“Oh shut the hell up, you fucking brat.” He sounded so cruel. This— this couldn’t be Nathan, could it? No… they’re tricking you. He had to have been replaced, this was nothing like him—!

In a split second, you felt all encompassing relief; as he lifted his foot from the back of your head— but that relief was short-lived, as he crouched down beside you and wound his fingers through your hair,

He yanked your head up, and you made a valiant, but ultimately useless, attempt to stifle the yelp from the action.

When you did let that sound out— though, much smaller than it would’ve been had you not tried, he jostled your head around.

“I really thought you’d be the one to make it. The scientists worked really hard on your virus strain, you know that?” He said that as if it was your fault— your fault for what? You couldn’t really place your finger on.

Maybe… he’s blaming you because you’d given the scientists hope that they’d succeeded? If you had succeeded, would they have stopped the operations—

Or doubled the effort? You’re leaning more towards the latter.

“s’not my fault…” You mumbled, screwing your eyes shut. You swear that they had to have replaced all the lights with brighter, more agitating ones. It hurt to be anywhere when the lights were fully on— the blaring emergency light, bright red and spinning constantly— added another layer of it.

“Open your fucking eyes when i’m talking to you!” He yelled— oh, you’d never heard Nathan yell like that. This has to be an imposter; it had to be that the higher-ups found out how kind he was being and terminated him, one way or another.

This couldn’t be him.

Against your own wishes, but along with your better judgement— you peeled open your eyes, lips wobbling as you were forced to come face to face with both the lights, and—

The imposter had taken off his helmet, letting you have a full view of his face.

It was Nathan. No doubt about it.

“I’d say I actually liked you,” He snarled, leaning closer— your back creaking and bending as he pulled your upper half up, but your lower one stayed relatively flat on the floor. “But that’d be a lie.” There was a cruel smirk playing on the corner of his lips, nothing like the kind ones he’d always give you,

You wrenched out a sob, at which he jostled you a little more to get you to “Shut up!”

By that point, you were in absolutely no position not to follow his wishes, your life quite literally placed in the palm of his hands.

He leaned closer again, and you couldn’t help but let the tears rush down your face at the sting of hurt from his words— which only worsened as he continued on.

“The bonuses that my higher-ups gave me to act all buddy-buddy with you were pretty nice, though. I guess I have you to thank for that.”

Oh.

That… makes sense— why you two were never caught. Why he could get away with it, with stealing the food, with showing you his face, telling you his name, hugging you, comforting you—

It was all a ploy,

And for what? Maybe they thought that if the subjects had something to fight for, that they’d be more determined to make it out as a success?

That wasn’t true and you knew it— Jamie had things to fight for, but they still ended up with their mutated body looking more like swiss cheese by the end of it all.

Nathan-- no, the guard, as you refuse to associate this... monster with the man who had been so kind to you, even if, realistically, you knew they were one in the same.

That it was all just an act.

That doesn't mean you have to admit it to yourself, even if you accepted the fact in some capacity.

But... regardless, the guard, clicked his tongue, looking down upon you in a way that made you want to curl up and sob. "They thought you'd make it, you know? You were reacting so well to all the tests. The virus took hold..." You couldn't stop the confused little noise, clawing its way from the back of your throat.

Surprisingly, the guard didn't reprimand or hurt you for it. His smirk only grew to a sick, sick grin. Presumably because of the obvious show of confusion on your part,

"Oh? Did you not know? They were testing a new strain, I mean-- I'm surprised it took to you of all people!" The laugh that followed was mocking and devoid of any light. Any joy that wasn't founded in the sadistic nature of this guard. "It was modified from a strain made by a couple of traitors-- It was meant for the strongest. They just gave it to you to see where that threshold for 'strong' was!"

...Ah.

A virus? That's what this all was? You didn't know what they were putting into you all, none of the other patients had a clue about what was happening besides what was obvious. You really didn't know anything about it--

But that's it? They were putting viruses into all of you? That'd definitely explain why some ended up the way they did; some mindless, some wanting nothing but violence. The ones who didn't what such things always looked as if they did, like Jamie had.

You don't feel sick though, not how Jamie had been describing how they felt as they approached their death day, completely oblivious to what was happening-- a little more lethargic than usual, yes-- but not sick. You don't feel like your bones are about to snap, about to shift and move and rearrange themselves to turn you into a monster. You're sure you would've... felt it,

Before you could make another sound-- before the guard could continue his spiel, a new round of heavy gunfire broke out nearby-- a few turns down the long corridor, you think.

Then, screams-- so many, and.. and bones cracking, flesh ripping; it didn't sound like anyone was getting shot.

It sounded like their heads were being twisted and ripped from their neck. You witnessed that once, with a particularly violent, now-terminated, subject. That's how you recognized the awful sound as the flesh of the neck tried to follow the way their head was being turned, only to be ripped-- sinew snapping as their bodies were pushed pass the limits of human capabilties.

The alarms-- no one knew what it was about, the code they were putting through the intercoms wasn't one you recognized. It wasn't one any of you recognized-- the guards seemed... panicked, for once. Not for you all, not at all; but because they had to evacuate everyone before they could save themselves.

Something told you that this wasn't a regular sort of rampage, put on by a grotesque mimicry of one of your fellow captives.

One second, the guards fingers were twisted in your hair-- yanking you, making your neck strain painfully as he forced you to look him in the face,

And the next, your hair was released and your head lolled forward; smacking your forehead right against the tile, not enough time to brace yourself at all. You heard the guard yell out a string of curses, before he stumbled-- and you mean stumbled, up; all scary calm and malice gone.

Replaced by a primal fear and terror that you know all too well. It was a little funny, seeing the primary force behind that sort of emotion experiencing it firsthand for once.

You don't see a point in picking yourself up at first, expecting you end to be swift-- for whatever was causing the apparent massacre to come charging at you, uncaring as it twisted your neck violently; just as you're sure it'd done to all the guards a few turns ahead.

But it... a few moments pass by, and nothing of the sort happens. You don't hear anything coming for you-- no horrifying creature shambling toward you on all fours, or a mass of disgusting, pulsing and gory flesh sliding across the tile to attack you.

All you hear are calm, methodical steps coming your way. A scientist, maybe-- all the guards seemed to be in a state of panic, if that one had left you in such a rush; if they leave you alone, if they don't continue their 'fun', or pull you along to continue at another time,

Then you know something is terribly, awfully wrong.

You listened carefully to the click-click-click of heeled dress shoes against the tile floor, coming closer and closer. The scientists weren't as outwardly-cruel as the guards, didn't rough you and the others kid up like they did...

But that's not to say that they cared for you, for any of you. If what the guard said was true, that you had gotten the furthest with their experiments-- then maybe the scientist would pick you up and drag you back.

Or kill you, and study your corpse to see what made your body welcome whatever virus they'd forced onto you.

At that, you made an effort to rise from your spot on the ground. Your elbows gave out the first few times you tried, adrenaline still running through your system-- but you were shaken up, and it was always harder to get up from the floor than it was from a chair or bed.

You were so tired, frail and weak-- but still better off than most. You were one of the few that actually had a chance, and you couldn't just give that up. Even if there was nothing to fight for really, you still had to get out. You don't know why-- maybe it's just in the human nature to want to continue on despite it all.

To survive anything, no real reason behind it. Simply a primal part of you, left over from centuries past; one that not even the most disciplined could stamp down, you think.

When you did get purchase, able to push yourself up to sit on your folded legs-- biting the inside of your cheek to smother the strange sort of chirp that desperately wished to escape you.

That'd been happening recently-- producing strange noises like that of a bird, especially when in distress. You'd been able to cover them up with a cough, or stifle them either mostly or completely, but the more scared you were; the harder it became to hide them.

You managed, though-- the fear of being noticed by whoever those eerily calm, unbothered steps that was a stark contrast to the bloodbath they were certainly just waltzing right through.

One sitting, you did your best to rise from the position-- unable to get to enough leverage to rise just as you were without collapsing to the ground, you got one leg out from under yourself-- though not without great difficulty.

Just as you were about to heft yourself up into a kneeling position, sure that you'd be able to stand from there-- you heard the footsteps come to an abrupt stop; you hadn't noticed how close they were until they went silent.

Slowly, you raised your head. The dread and barely contained panic keeping you from focusing on the throbbing, world-ending headache that kicked up a notch as you looked straight on at the lights--

In front of you, down near the hallway; but not nearly far enough for your own liking, was a man you'd never seen before. Dressed in all black, he looked more like an FBI or undercover agent you'd see in a movie than anything.

Was he here to save you? You dazedly thought, but as you looked into the mans face-- his eyes hidden by simple black sunglasses, something told you that you had to run.

This man wasn't like the others-- his presence felt suffocating, like his existence alone could choke the life out from you.

Despite the headache, the aches and pain-- and the way that, deep down, you knew that you could never outrun this man... or whatever he was; that even if you were perfectly healthy, in the best shape possible, you never stood a chance, you still tried to run.

You stood abruptly, the pressure in your head becoming almost unbearable as black clouded your vision-- as disoriented and dizzy as you were, you're surprised you didn't fall right to the floor like a discarded ragdoll upon standing.

When your vision finally cleared, you met the mans gaze, and really got a look at him. The light casted behind him made him look like he had a halo-- a halo of red, like a sun delivering sailors an ill omen, bounced off of his perfectly gelled blond hair. His face was sharp, and he looked like he was in better shape than some of the guards here.

Upon closer inspection, he seemed to be wearing tactical gear-- and when you looked a little longer, realized that the strange spots of... something, wasn't a bad dye job of the fabric.

It was blood, mostly centralized to his black leather gloves, coagulated but still beading up-- one big glob fell to the floor, as the man simply stood there. Watching, waiting-- like a cat would to a mouse, staring it down and waiting for it to turn its back.

Cat's were stealth predators, more focused catching their prey off-guard rather than over powering it with sheer brute force. You're sure the man could do that-- and the reality of it all came crashing down.

He must be the one who killed the guards, the one that caused the one tormenting you to run for the hills like his life depended on it,

because it did, and yours did too.

He said nothing, as he stood there. He tilted his head, his face unreadable-- the glasses weren't helping. Slowly, as steadily as you could manage, you took a few steps back.

And then a few more, not daring to turn around until the very last minute. When he took a step forward, you turned and bolted down the hall.

You don't know where the exit is-- or, really the elevator. Or stairs-- anything to get you out from this underground hell. You stumbled as you ran, twisting and turning through the corridors; your lungs burning, head pounding and body aching--

But you never stopped running, and you wouldn't until you were safe, or you simply keeled over right then and there. You wouldn't stop running, wouldn't stop this fruitless fight until your very heart gave out--

Or you joined the number of casualties, head twisted off. You'd yet to see any bodies, any blood or gore-- or anyone else. Most of them were in the other side of the building, and you dashed toward the section with the labs and testing rooms.

There, you think you could find a weapon, or at the very least a weapon to brandish. A weapon that would do nothing, and you were well aware it would do nothing.

The man that had stood before you, the one that set off your fight-or-flight instincts like never before, couldn't have been human. He just couldn't have been. If he had been the ones to cause those terrible noises of sinew snapping and viscera splashing on the sterile, once white walls...

Then that was that, he wasn't human. You don't know what exactly he'd be, and you don't want to find out.

For one foolish, silly second-- you assumed you'd shook him off your proverbial tail. He hadn't chased after you, and even if you were malnourished and frail, you still could run fast in necessary. Could push yourself if it meant a chance for freedom, to see the sun again-- even if it'd be the last time.

it'd hurt, you think. The other patients would complain that the barracks lighting was becoming too dim, but to you-- it was always just bit too bright. What might've been bearable the day before, became uncomfortably bright the next. Not blinding like the corridor's lights were, though. And for that, you'd been thankful.

You weren't familiar with this facility-- you were aiming for the labs, but somehow wound up in going in a circle; now facing the other way, close to where you'd started.

Bodies-- all over the ground, mostly guards... a few scientists, their white coats weren't all stained-- some were a stark white against the viscera covering the hallway.

Ahead of you, the click-click-click of heeled dress shoes called your attention, and at the end of the hallway, stood the man.

It was as if he knew you'd wind up back here, like he knew how inexperienced you were in the layout of this place-- like he knew the layout himself. A smirk played at his lips, showcasing rather sharp canines. The kind that could easily tear flesh from bone with no issue.

Maybe... he was an angel of death, you surmised. It fit, it really did-- maybe that's why he made it through the hail of bullets the slain guards around you had sent his way. How he'd been able to kill them so quickly, without so much as a scratch on his person.

The need to run didn't fade, if anything it got worse-- maybe because you knew, wholly and entirely, that you can't run. Not really. If he wanted you dead, then it'd be so. He'd taken down so many trained guards, a measly, terrified child wouldn't be a problem at all.

All you can think of that could stop him, was morals. You don't think he has those-- with the sight surrounding you.

This time, when he stepped forward, you didn't make any move to take a step back. It was useless. this was all so useless. Why you? Why did it have to be you? The shelter hadn't been ideal, but it was better than this.

You sunk to the ground, tears welling in your eyes as you looked down-- trying to look away from the still-going emergency lights, the too-bright fluorescents that hung above were still on. The combination of the two made it feel like someone was tenderizing your brain with a sledgehammer constantly.

The clicks of his shoes aren't as sharp sometimes, when he steps in the puddles of blood-- they get closer, and closer... until he stands before you, only his shoes and part of his legs were visible to you.

You kept your head down, not wishing to look at your end. You want to die under the illusion that you ever had any choice in your life. That you chose your own end, and it was not brought upon you by this... angel of death.

And as you sat there, expecting the pain-- or simply a pinch before your entire world went black; shivering from both fear and the cold of the hallway, bile rising in your throat and your headache refusing to back down even a smidge; you imagine a world were you got to live a little longer.

Because, in your mind, you died the moment you entered this facility; it was a death sentence, and you should've been able to come to terms with that. It was stupid, you felt stupid for thinking you were any different to countless other kids that'd died in these halls-- some going down with a fight, others begging for their end;

"Look at me." A deep, almost... British, but not quite-- voice spoke, clear and concise. The man sounded... oddly human. You'd expected maybe a reverb of sorts, or the voice to crawl into the crevices of your brain and dig their claws in...

He was still scary, his voice sending a flash of terror through your body-- but in a way no different than the scientists were. It was a very human type of fear that his voice incited, the fear of somebody in a position of power above you.

Oh, how badly you wished to stay staring at the ground-- it was the lights, that was the problem. The man scared you, but you knew you should obey him. Maybe he'd give you a chance then.

Oddly enough, he seemed quite... patient, all things considered. he stood there for maybe a minute or so, before repeating himself. In the same tone, the same exact cadence and words.

"Look at me." He said, and something inexplicable-- something that felt rooted in your very soul, tugged at your mind. Telling you that he wouldn't be so kind if you made him ask again.

And you do, trying to keep your eyes open despite the pain that followed. Nausea rolled through you, both from the smell of blood and flesh-- it was sharp, much more noticeable then you think it should be; as if it's being held right in front of your nose-- and from how the headache worsened.

The smirk he had when he'd first spotted you had dropped, his face now a cold mask of... something. He really did look like an angel-- but the sorts found in older religious texts. neither good nor bad, simply carrying out God's will, who in of Themselves, was a contradiction.

The man reached out, and you couldn't help but jerk your head back-- he said nothing of it. In fact, you could've sworn the corners of his lips were giving way to a little smile, not just a smirk-- but it was gone before you could really register it;

But, he continued to reach out, and you stayed stock still, not wanting to test his patience again. You were already on thin ice, probably. For running from him, for making him repeat himself-- maybe he'd give you mercy, though? Because you were so young?

You weren't exactly a child, but you weren't an adult. Maybe... maybe he'd leave you be. He didn't seem to be hurting you, and when he curled his hand around your chin to push your head up just a bit more-- he was... gentle with it. In a way you hadn't experienced in so, so long from any adult.

Even Nathan hadn't been entirely soft with his movements, too used to being rough with it all; not knowing his strength, or the fragility of a subject who'd been here as long as you had.

You're surprised you were still able to run as much as you did.

The man hummed, turning your head just a tad to the left-- then gently guiding it to turn the other way. Like he was a museum curator appraising a priceless artifact.

When he turned your head to face him straight-on, you winced; the headache reaching an all time high, making you feel as if you were going to pass out form the pain at any given moment.

"Does the light bother you?" He asked, and you tried to nod-- but his grip, as gentle as it was, was all too firm. Not enough slack to complete the gesture. "Use your words." He said next, no irritation obvious in his tone.

But still, it set you on edge. How calm he was. People weren't calm like that-- but maybe angels were. That's what he had to be. He couldn't be human... he just couldn't be.

But... why would he ask that? It's not like the man cared for your well-being, right? it doesn't seem so, the question asked with an almost clinical sort of edge. Like the scientists had when they asked if there were any major concerns with your health, if you'd felt any negative side effects.

Not out of care for your person, but care for what you represented; a subject, something to test on to try and further whatever agenda or project they're assigned to.

"...Yes sir." You croaked out, shaking-- tacking on the honorific should help, yeah? The scientists always made you refer to them as such-- Sir or Ma'am, not accepting anything else. Not accepting no personal address either; that's how you get locked up in solitary for a few hours, to 'learn your lesson about disrespect'.

You were better at it than most, only being placed in solitary twice for the reason of 'disrespecting the scientists' with the lack of it.

The chuckle that followed terrified you, making your entire body lock up-- muscles pulled taut, ready to snap. Spine straight, much like a rabbit ready to bolt;

"Good to know you have manners. That'll make things easier." Your anxiety only worsened-- make what easier? What was he going to do, and how hell was your manners going the help that process?

Finally, he released your chin-- and not a moment too soon. You slumped, not from relief, but from the bone-deep exhaustion plaguing you after everything. Head lolling forward to try and avoid the bright light, you don't know how you're still even vaguely upright-- hell, how you're even still awake. You probably burned off more calories than you've collectively taken in since arriving here.

The world was spinning around you, and that notified you that you consciousness was probably something very, very short-lived. You're sure that, if you do pass out before he does whatever he does; you won't wake up again.

He says something, but the world if muffled around you-- blood rushing in your ears, making it sound like everything was underwater. You came to when he snapped his fingers in your face, it was a warning just as much as it was call for your attention.

You looked up-- or made the move to, only for him to place his hand atop your head, and gently direct you to keep your gaze down. "You'll damage your eyesight. Close them, if that helps any."

He framed it like he was offering it, offering advice-- you shut your eyes, seeing it as what it was. You had no choice in it. Whatever use he wanted you for, he didn't want your vision to be damaged for it.

You don't think the lights would damage your sight-- more just give a pounding migraine, but you do as he says regardless; he could very well just crush your skull in his hand, right then and there-- if he took down so many guards as you think he had.

For once, some higher being smiled upon you; and he moved his hand from your head, and while he was still as close as before, it was a massive weight lifted from your shoulders, not to have him making any direct contact anymore.

"I won't repeat myself again," He started off with, and you tried to show that you were listening-- he stayed quiet afterward, and you realized with a jolt, what he wanted. As soon as you realized, you aid-- almost robotically, "I understand, sir."

A few seconds passed, a heavy weight forming in your heart-- was that not what he wanted? You were tempted to open your eyes to try and see if you could get a read on his face, figure out what he was thinking; if he was about to kill you for some perceived slight.

...But would an angel do that? Even one who killed all these people? If you were still alive, then maybe he was ordered not to kill you. Or, more realistically, not specifically ordered to kill you.

Even if he wasn't an angel of death, if he was just some terrifying super-human or something of the like, he has to work under someone; right? He also said he's got a use for you.

You just hope that you picked up on the implications that he needed you alive for that use.

"Good." The man-- Angel?-- replied, as you hear fabric shifting-- the man moving, whether that be shifting on his feet or reaching into a pocket, you have no idea. "What's your serial code?"

"...I don't know it, sir." You shook-- you really didn't. Well, you didn't remember it off the top of your head, so maybe, if you explained yourself, he'd be more kind... "But if I hear it, then I'll know it's mine."

That can't be of much help. You might've just doomed yourself even worse, tacking on something like that- did he think you were wasting his time? Were you why he'd come here in the first place? That can't be it, you were never that important--

"Would you happen to be Subject 082202?" He asked-- and you recognized the number. Was he really after you? That's... that could go either one way or the either. Hope bloomed in your chest, before smothered by absolute despair.

What did he want with you?

You tried to respond, you really did-- but your voice failed you, wobbling and tried not to cry. You nodded, hoping he'd give you some leniency with it.

Surprisingly, he let it go. Didn't even comment on it-- when he spoke next, he sounded so... not happy, but--

Victorious, you think it'd be. Smug would be your next choice, the emotion in his voice was hard to pinpoint. It was barely there, but without anything else to witness or analyze-- you were stuck with trying to dissect his tone.

"Good, that's good." You heard him shift again-- the sound his shoes made against the tile suggested that he'd crouched down, and and his heavy leather coat shifted, but in what way you couldn't be sure--

More noises, ones that were meant to be quiet-- you weren't supposed to be able to pick on them, but you could. Maybe it was the fear of it all.

Then, his hand was back on your chin. Reflexively, you flinched; but he didn't reprimand you, if anything, his tone suggested that he... cared,

Maybe not for you-- probably for whatever you could do for him, but it was care regardless, and he told you "Stay still."

You did, and felt something place onto your face-- it felt like metal, warmed by a human's natural heat; it felt like a pair of glasses, the arms tucked above your ears, the metal bridge of it resting against your nose--

"Open your eyes, tell me if it's any better." The man said with a firmness that reminded you of the scientists-- or the guards. A strange mix between the two; maybe more like a cop, if you think about it hard enough. A sense of authority, firm but not demanding.

You do so-- the headache is still there, it'd gotten better when your eyes were closed. You find that, when you open your eyes, the world is a little dimmer; the headache doesn't spike as you'd expected due to it.

As you look up at the man, you realize that he doesn't have sunglasses on now-- giving you full view of his...

Yeah. The confirms it; he is absolutely not human. His eyes looked like a snakes, maybe more like a dragons; red with yellow around his slitted pupils-- instead of scaring you as it absolutely should,

It.. comforted you. Against your will, mind you-- a little bit of tension easing out of your form at the sight of them. You don't know why. It should terrify you, it should make you want to run for the hills, like he had when he first showed up--

With his eyes no longer obscured, and your headache a little dimmer, you think that you'd have a better chance at reading the emotions on his face--

He cleared his throat, bringing you back to the present-- to his question he'd had with his earlier command. You try not to test your luck, now able to give out a short, soft "Yes sir."

His hand released your chin again, and with all the energy left in you-- you tried your best not to have your head fall forward from exhaustion, from the loss of the support of his hand. he huffed, shifting a bit-- he was crouching, but no longer leaning in close, leaving you with a little bit of a personal bubble.

A sort of privilege you haven't been afforded in a long, long while. Nobody crowding in your space-- nobody poking and prodding. Just letting you exist. Simply letting you sit there, without anyone breathing down your neck-- unrestrained, able to leave (if you weren't so banged up-- and honest-to-god terrified of the man, but that's neither here nor there) if desired.

You notice now, that there is a suitcase set down by his side-- looking rather innocent. A simple brown leather one, no obvious tells of what could be inside. It looked like one of the head scientists own bag, one you always saw him carrying around. Not trusting to leave it in one place without him present, you'd guessed.

"You're the subject for the Ammit Strain, aren't you?" He asked-- he seemed to already be sure of himself, and it left you confused as to why he's asking you. Because you don't have a solid answer for him-- and that shouldn't have been expected of you to have one.

"Uhm... I-I'm not sure. I don't... know what that is." You half expect his calm, strangely patient, demeanor to change in the blink of an eye-- for his hand to shoot out and grab your neck, and twist until your world went dark. It was irrational (probably), because he said he needs you for something. Even if you don't know what it is, you're pretty sure he needs you alive for it--

it's still up in the air, though. So you don't rely on that assumption for comfort too much.

Instead of that, instead of any violent outburst or sudden shift in his approach-- he seemed to... smile a little at your response. it was small, barely noticeable unless you'd been staring at him for god knows how long--

and, oh boy, have you been staring at him. analyzing him, trying to make sense of it all. as you do, when you're stuck in a strange and scary situation such as this.

"That's alright." He leaned forward, hang outstretched-- it landed on your shoulder, in a strange... friendly sort of gesture. Like a teacher would do as they praise you for an A+ on an assignment. "I know you are."

Then why did you ask? a bold part of you made you want to say-- one you thought had been stomped down a long time ago. During your second stay in solitary, where they kept you in for 6 hours rather than the measly 45 minutes you'd been in there the first go-around.

You kept quiet, hoping that he'd give a bit of an explanation as to-- anything. But you know he probably won't, not without prompting; even then, he might be more inclined to telling you to shut up or dancing around the question then give a truthful answer-- or one at all, for that matter.

He didn't do anything of the sort, the conversation going dead as he stood-- He grabbed the briefcase from beside him, but didn't make any move to turn around.

As he looked down at you, you realized he probably wanted you to stand as well. Torn between telling him that you aren't sure you could do so, and staying quiet as to try and minimize any possible anger-- you simply sat there, unmoving. Terrified, feeling like you'd found yourself right in a damned-if-i-do, damned-if-i-don't sort of situation.

A few moments later, he seemed to realize what your silence, what your immobility signified. He walked around you, standing behind you-- and gave no warning as he leaned down and put his hands under your armpits-- pulling you that way, before maneuvering you in such a way where he could pick you up into a princess carry from there.

Out of pure reflex, you threw your arms above his shoulders-- scared of tumbling over and out of his hold. By the time you realize what you'd done, you were too scared-stiff you amend it.

He... didn't seem to mind it much, though.

The hand held underneath your knee carried the briefcase, the handle digging into your thin grey sweatpants just a tad-- not too uncomfortable, but not ideal. Like hell you were going to say anything about it, though.

As he began to walk, he suddenly asked "What's your name?"

Despite the fear, a slip in your judgement made you let out a little "huh?"

He huffed, his smile growing wider for just a second-- starting to resemble an actual one, before reverting back to the small, almost non-existent smirk he'd had before. "Your name. None of the documents said it, only referred to you as your serial number or the strain."

"Oh." This was so confusing-- he kept walking, letting you two lapse into silence; he wasn't rushing your answer, quite the opposite. He seemed to be letting you... take your time, even if it was such a simple and easy request.

Then, quietly, you said it. Almost as if you were afraid that the scientists or guards would hear, and punish you for it-- it was their way of isolating you from the outside world, telling you to forget who you were before you'd come here.

That you had no other name, nothing else to be called, besides Subject 082202.

The man heard you, though. He hummed in acknowledgement, and in a moment of reckless, almost moronic, bravery-- you ventured to ask,

"What's your name?"

Almost immediately, he answered with "Albert Wesker, but you'd do good not to use it." The name... was familiar, set off even more alarm bells than the man had before you learned of his name.

"...So just keep calling you sir?" What were you doing? Why were you doing this? How stupid were you, to push him like this--

"That's what was implied, isn't it?" He responded, the little edge painting his tone let you know that his patience must've been running thin. You shut up, smothering what you'd wanted to say--I was just making sure.

Something like that would definitely be categorized as disrespect-- to a normal person, and absolutely to the scientists-- which you'd defaulted to treating him as.

As he carried you, exhaustion having taken its toll on you-- your eyes slid shut, head falling forward and resting against his shoulder. Within a few seconds, you were out like a light.

#yandere albert wesker #yandere x reader #platonic yandere #yandere resident evil #resident evil #platonic yandere x reader #yandere albert wesker x reader #platonic yandere albert wesker #teen!reader #gn!reader #requests open #yandere resident evil x reader #my writing

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mcytblrsource · 5 months ago

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YEARLY MCYTBLR RECAP: 2024 EDITION

MCYTblr is a very large space if you see any missing events, exchange, or something else please send us an ask!

JANUARY

EVENTS:

FitPac Week Hermitcraft Rare Pair Week Wormman Week Dream SMP Sixteenth Day Event MCYT T4T Week SpiderBit Week Treebark Title Swap MCYT Fanfiction Appreciation Week MCYT Physical Disability Week

ZINES AND MAPs:

Flamekeeper Zine Limited Life MAP Tribute to Jellie MAP

FEBRUARY

EVENTS:

MCYT Build Month Etoiles Week Fitpac Valentine's Drabble Fest Dream SMP Sixteenth Day Event: Love Month Techza Week MCYT Yuri Week - Valentines Vylenix Week

GIFT EXCHANGES: (Based off of the beginning of posting period)

QSMP Secret Valentine QSMP Valentine's Gift Exchange MCYT Valentines MCYT Dead Dove Kink Meme Driving After Dark 2

ZINES AND MAPs:

Empires Rainbow Zine Convex Matryoshka MAP

MARCH

EVENTS:

QSMP Month Dream SMP Eras Event SMPLIVE Bingo Shubble Support Day QSMP Language Day Decked Out 2 Writing Challenge Week MCYT Aro Week Skizzleman Week SpiderBit Week Vitalasubzam Week Grumbo Week Dream SMP Sixteenth Day Event: Themes Month MCYT Underdogs Event

GIFT EXCHANGES:

MCYT Recursive Dream SMP Rarepair Big Bang

ZINES AND MAPs:

Isla y Ovos Zine

APRIL

EVENTS:

Mumscarian Week The Bright Side of Life Series MCYT-Fem Slash Treebark Week Katecinda Week Dream SMP Sixteenth Day Event: Angst Month

GIFT EXCHANGES:

MCYT Horror Gift Exchange

ZINES AND MAPs:

Hermitzine 8.5: April Fools edition The Minecraft Speedrunning Tarot Project Hermits Zine: Geminitay Edition Desert Duo Tongues and Teeth MAP

MAY

EVENTS:

Hermit-A-Day May HideDuo Kiss Week Dream SMP Sixteenth Day Event: Duos Month! Fish Donna Week Hermitcraft Guess The Author QSMP AU Week

GIFT EXCHANGES:

MCYT Drabble Exchange

ZINES AND MAPs:

Hermit Coloring Book Mianite Zine

JUNE

EVENTS:

MCYT Omegaverse Month Voices For The Blade MCYT Trans Week Scarian Summer Smooch Fest MCYT Subversion Week Niki Nihachu Summer Dream SMP Sixteenth Day Event: Pre-Canon Month

GIFT EXCHANGES:

MCYT Multilingual Big Bang

ZINES AND MAPs:

Boatem Village Zine Trafficzine Edition 5 Flowers in the Desert: A Desert Duo Zine

JULY

EVENTS:

MCYT Co-Create Event Gem Pearl Week MCYT Aspec Week Hot Scarian Summer RedScape Week Dream SMP Sixteenth Day Event: Post-Canon Month fWhimmy Week HideDuo Week MCYTblr Fandom Crossover/AU event

GIFT EXCHANGES:

MCYTBLR AU Fest MCYT Fic Fight Driving After Dark 3 QSMP Big Bang

ZINES AND MAPs:

Petals of a Rose - Hideduo Zine Fairytales from the SMP: Volume II

AUGUST

EVENTS:

MCYT Musical Bingo Event QSMP Month(s) Hypnotizd ship week Skizz Week 2 FelPac week Dream SMP Sixteenth Day Event: Crack Month

GIFT EXCHANGES:

MCYT Summer of Yuri MCYT RPF KinkMeme

ZINES AND MAPs:

Chronicles: a QSMP Egg Zine MCYT Sapphic Zine Empiropedia Hotguy Comics Zine Hermitzine 9: H is for Hermitcraft Bread Hermitcraft MAP

SEPTEMBER

EVENTS:

MCYT Non-POV Event Your Cubito, Your Culture Event Dream SMP Sixteenth Day Event: Places Month Sausage September

GIFT EXCHANGES:

MCYTblr Fluff Gift Exchange MCYT Jukebox Bonanza Event

ZINES AND MAPs:

Hermitcraft Season 9 Zine The Hermit Arcana The QSMP Story- Animation Collab

OCTOBER

EVENTS:

MCYT Aro Week 2 Weekly Hermitober + Life Series Spiderbit/Guapoduo Fluff or Fright Scarian Autumn Smooch Fest fWhimmy Week QSMP Halloween Fanworks Event Hideduo Trick or Treat Week ImpSkizztober GTWScartober2024 Rats SMPtober Hermittober Team Ranchers Week Weekly Hermittober Pisstober MCYT Femslash: Vampires VS Werewolves Dream SMP Sixteenth Day Event: Limbo Month 7 Holy Nights of Jeremy

GIFT EXCHANGES:

MCYT Horror Gift Exchange 2 MCYT Yaoi Exchange MCYT Trick-Or-Treat MCYT Halloween Gift Exchange

NOVEMBER

EVENTS:

DoubleHearted-vember Sixteenth Day Event: Memory Month MCYT Fan Fundraiser: Art Showcase

GIFT EXCHANGES:

MCYT Prompt Exchange

ZINES AND MAPs:

The Reason is You Zine [SpiderBit]

DECEMBER

EVENTS:

QPR Kersuma Week Dream SMP Sixteenth Day Event: Festive Month Bedrock Bros Prompt Months MCYT Christmas Prompt List Shadowrot Week Fuga4 Week Zedaph Week Felps Weekend Event MCYT Advent Solstice Social Collaborative Fanwork Event

GIFT EXCHANGES:

MCYTblr Holiday Exchange Rivals Duo Holiday Gift Exchange MCSR Mini Gift Exchange MCSR Winter Big Bang MCYT Playwriting Festival

ZINES AND MAPs:

Treebark Zine Coloring with Hermits The Heart of the Ouroboros - LifeSteal Zine Views of Hermitcraft 2025 Calendar Moonrot-Pearleo Zine Hermit Heartthrobs 2025 Calendar Morning Star Zine Double-Hearted : DDVAU Holiday Zine

#mcyt #monthly recap

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papenathys · 10 months ago

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Hey Mimi do you have any recommendations for books set in Latin America (any genre) ?

So I am going to assume that you are not asking for picks like Gabriel Garcia Marquez or Isabel Allende. Most of the Latinx authors I read are unfortunately fantasy or genre fiction set in the USA (I'm trying to remember if Tehlor Kay Mejia or Anna-Marie McLemore wrote a book that is explicitly set in a Latin American country.)

Here are a couple of books I enjoyed, or at least feel confident recommending based on what I remember:

Certain Dark Things by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (adult, urban fantasy, horror): Described by the author as a "violent neo-noir", this story is set in an alternate, gritty Mexico City, and follows a Tlāhuihpochtli vampire who strikes a bond with an impoverished street kid, while fleeing from narco-vampire clans, criminal gangs, and other dangers lurking in the dark underbelly of the city.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (adult, historical fiction, fantasy): In 1920s Mexico, a young woman accidentally frees the spirit of the Mayan God of Death, and embarks on a cross-country mission with him: from the dazzling Jazz Age opulence of Mexico City, into the darkness of the Mayan underworld– where she must face great dangers to reinstate the God on his rightful throne.

Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia** (adult, historical fiction, horror): A glamorous, fun-loving socialite in 1950s Mexico receives a disturbing letter from her married cousin, prompting her to travel down to their ancestral mansion, where the in-laws' live. There, on that ancient, colonial estate, she begins to be haunted by an equally ancient evil, and soon realises something is terribly wrong about the family her cousin has married into.

Tender is The Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica** (adult, dystopia, horror): In a near-dystopian future, an infectious virus turns all animal meat poisonous and unfit for consumption, forcing governments to legalize the factory-farming, breeding and eating of human meat. At one such processing plant, a worker is faced with a moral dilemma when he is gifted a "live" specimen.

Elena Knows by Claudia Piñeiro (adult, psychological thriller): Set in Argentina, this is a claustrophobic, uneasy novella about a mother's journey to uncover the truth behind the hushed-up murder of her dead daughter; the investigative mission, however, is made difficult by her advanced locomotive disability and age, as well as by this slowly unfurling realization: that she may not have known her daughter as truly as she thought.

And a couple I have not read/read and did not enjoy at all, but would recommend because my opinion seems to be in the minority:

Jawbone by Mónica Ojeda** (adult, horror, thriller, LGBTQ): A group of wealthy teenage girls attending an elite academy in Ecuador begin to convene regularly in an abandoned building, after school hours– but what started out as a place to exchange ghost stories, soon devolves into a site of dangerous thrill-seeking and dark, bloody rituals. (Note: I absolutely despised it, but you may enjoy; it's sapphic dark academia with cosmic horror and yellowjackets vibes).

Our Share of Night by Mariana Enríquez (adult, horror, historical fiction, fantasy): Set partially during the years of Argentina's brutal military dictatorship, this novel follows a father and son on a road trip, trying to escape a death cult, who have committed unspeakable atrocities. I have not read this gigantic tome, but I really want to, I am a sucker for horror rooted in political/historical allegories.

Cantoras by Carolina De Robertis (adult, historical fiction, LGBTQ): In 1977 Uruguay, a time when oppressive militia rule criminalized homosexuality as a dangerous transgression, five queer women discover an uninhabited cape, and claim the coastal sanctuary for themselves. Over years, it becomes their one safe haven, to be their true selves. Not read this, but it sounds strikingly similar to Last Summer at Bluefish Cove, one of my favourite queer stories of all time.

[ Note: All the stories are adult and given my inclination towards horror and psychological fiction, they are likely to be dealing with sensitive issues, but for the stories marked ** I very highly recommend checking trigger warnings ]

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indigosunsetao3 · 1 year ago

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Submission for @glitterypirateduck's #CoDVacationMode challenge.

Title: Best Laid Plans Pairing: 141 x Reader, (Female Reader) Warning: 18+, implied smut, sexual situations, sexual thoughts Prompts: Budget Motel, Solo Vacation, Running into the same person (s) Word Count: 4.3k Summary: A nice long holiday to 'find yourself' is just what you need after a messy breakup. You look forward to the restful retreat for months, dreaming about what you'll do with all your free time. But when the trip finally arrives, everything goes completely off the rails.

This got extremely out of hand in length, as my stuff usually does. I can do a part two if there is an interest 💙

The summer plan of 'finding yourself' after an extremely messy breakup was not going to plan. In the slightest. You were supposed to hop off the plane on an island in the Mediterranean, catch a ride to your rented flat, and find a lovely man, or five, to occupy your next month in blissful self love.

The first flight had been extremely uncomfortable in coach, the seats too small and your neighbor too loud to be able to sleep. That was fine you told yourself, it was just a few hours. You had a four poster bed with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the ocean to sleep in for the next few weeks. What was a few hours?

Then when you arrived at the impossibly small airport after the second flight you found out your luggage hadn't made it. It was still on the mainland and they'd be sending it on the next flight; which wasn't until the following day. Fine. You could survive on your travel clothes for a night.

But the final straw had been when you arrived at your rented space to find the owner standing outside the place. It was flooded. Completely and utterly ruined, water running from the ceiling where the pipes had burst and their other place was already booked. So were all the other areas around. Summertime on the island was busy which was why you had to book this place out four months in advance. The owner apologized and hoped to have it ready in a few weeks so maybe you could finish your vacation there.

The only place with a vacancy is a small motel on the edge of town that looks like it rents rooms by the hour. You sigh as the taxi drops you and you walk up to the front counter. It's like the start of a horror movie, the fluorescent link flickering as you sign in and pay for a room. You'll find something better tomorrow you tell yourself.

At ten at night, there is nowhere around to eat so you settle for the vending machine that is on the way to your room. It only accepts cash. You hadn't had the chance to exchange currency, that was part of the plan for tomorrow. This was turning into such a disaster. Maybe you should have just stayed home, maybe it was the universe letting you know that this was not going to be the hot girl summer you thought.

Tilting your head back to hold back the frustrated, and tired, tears you hear footsteps approach. Carefully wiping your face you turn to see a man standing behind you at the machine, casually digging out his wallet as he looks at you.

"Oh, please go ahead," you mutter as you step aside, "I was just...leaving."

"Didn't find anything appetizing?" The man asks as he steps forward and peruses the selection inside.

"No cash. Had a bit of a change of plans and didn't expect my first night in the country would be vending machine food."

"You should always carry local currency," the man says with a grin and you catch the emblem on his ball cap is a British flag. Perhaps another tourist.

"I'm figuring that out," you answer as you look at your room key number to see where you need to go.

"What do you want?" He asks as he makes a selection, a candy bar.

You pause and stare at him with an eyebrow raise. You weren't one to accept anything from strangers but you were starving.

"What do you want?" You parrot back at him taking a step back.

He chuckles eyes roving over you before producing another bill and stuffing it into the feeder.

"No strings. Just don't think you should go to bed hungry. Even if it's shitty vending machine food." He presses in the selection and watches it fall to the tray below before bending down to retrieve the bag and holds it out to you. "Crisps?"

"Thanks," you say skeptically, taking it and preparing to run.

He smirks, unwrapping his own sweet treat and taking a bite. "See you."

You wait until he is gone, disappearing into his room down the line before hustling to your room. You slip in and slam the door shut, sliding the chain and lock into place before flipping on the light. The room is about as delightful as any seedy motel that hadn't had an update since the eighties would be. You're fairly certain something skittered under the bed when you flipped the lights on.

The next day isn't going better.

You can't find anywhere else to stay on the island. No one has any sort of openings for at least a week. Your luggage had arrived at the place you were supposed to be staying at, but since no one was there they took it back to Athens. You spend another few frustrating hours to arrange it to arrive at the motel but now they say it'll be another two days. You couldn't do another two days of dirty clothes and motel soap.

You opt to go shopping, to try and make the best of it and find some nice airy clothes and hygiene provisions. Shopping takes up the rest of your day and when you arrive back at the sketchy motel you walk up to your door and slide your key in the lock to get in. It jams. You rattle the knob in frustration, juggling your bags as you fight with it.

It's not budging.

"Need a hand?" Someone calls and you turn to see the man from the night before. But he also has a friend. The other guy is older, a bit taller, definitely gruffier, and would have been a bit more intimidating if he didn't have a boonie hat on like your father.

"Ah, no I got it," you answer as you try to shoulder the door open. It doesn't budge and you sigh.

"Here," he offers walking over, his friend lingering back with his hip on the railing just watching.

You step away from the door as he wiggles the key a bit and grabs the handle, his hand completely encapsulating the knob, and he lifts it. The lock slides free when he twists the key open again and he opens the door allowing you to slip past.

"Humidity shifts the doors, just give them a good lift," he says with a grin as you shuffle past and turn to stare up at him. You watch as his eyes sweep over the room before back to you.

"Well, I'll hopefully only be here another day or two," you answer, "thank you..." you pause to get his name.

"John."

"John," you say with a nod before moving to shut the door.

"Wait," his hand stops the door shutting and your heart jumps into your throat. "Key," he supplies pulling it from the knob and holding it to you. "Don't want anyone just wandering by and letting themselves in," he finishes with a small wink before turning away as you snick the door shut. You watch him walk away through the eyehole before turning back to your dismal room to make the most of your evening.

You are going to the beach today.

You had enough of phone calls, trying to make arrangements, and sitting in the infested motel room. Perhaps this was all part of that grand universe plan, a great story to tell later and a lesson to just roll with whatever was thrown at you.

You didn't have your suit but that was fine; a summer dress and a bottle of wine tucked into the tote bag you bought would keep you entertained. There is a public spot to visit and you decide to walk, taking in the summer day and the sights as you wander. Finally happening upon the beach an hour later before groaning. It's all the way down a hill, a hill full of steep stone steps that look like would be your demise at one misstep. Fuck it, you came this far.

Pulling out the wine you wander down carefully, sipping right from the bottle as you go. You don't pass anyone on the way down and when you make it to the sand half the bottle is already gone. You should have brought two. No matter.

You walk along the shoreline watching the water lap against the sand as you continue to sip. You aren't sure what the rules are for alcohol on the beach, let alone in public, so you keep tucking the bottle away as people happen upon you. A man runs past you and you twist to watch him pass. He grins at you over his shoulder but that's the only acknowledgement he gives you before he continues.

But then he comes back a few minutes later, slipping past you with a polite 'excuse me', hands brushing your shoulders as you step into the shallow surf to give him space. He's shirtless this time and you stare boldly as he goes, twirling the bottle in your fingers as you watch the sun shining on the sweat on his back. You bring the wine up to your lips to finish the last dregs, leaning back a bit tipsily to get the last drop. When you tilt forward again you nearly splutter the liquid out as you see the man standing right in front of you. How did he get back to you so quickly?

"Drink that whole thing yourself?" He asks, his Scottish accent thick as he eyes the bottle in your hand. You almost see a twinkle in his eye at your unsubtle attempt to grip the neck of the bottle to prepare to swing it as a weapon if needed.

"Going to tattle on me?" You shoot back willing your eyes to stay on his face. Not the way his chest heaves a bit to catch his breath, the lines of his muscles on his stomach that are taunt and oh so chiseled. And definitely not at his arms where the veins are on prominent display after all the cardio. Fuck. You snap your eyes up and he's smirking at you like a cheshire cat.

"Me? Never," he answers before looking over at the hill and the stairs, the only way back up. "Just curious if you plan on spending the evening down here," he grins, "you'll break your neck walking up those after all that. Especially out here in the sun, nary a drop of water in sight." With that, he sips on his own bottle of water and pulls his shirt that he's tucked into the waistband of his pants to wipe the sweat off his face.

"Be better than where I'm staying now," you mutter glaring at the stairs for a moment. "I think I have a multi generational family of roaches under my bed."

"Aye, roaches are better than rats though," the man states and he sees your eyes widen. "Thinking better of camping out here?" He laughs as you turn to stomp toward the stairs. You better start walking now if you want to make it out by sundown.

He follows though and you shoot him a look over your shoulder.

"Only way in or out," he reasons and you sigh before beginning your hike.

Your legs are on fire after only twenty steps and there are many more to go. He's a few steps behind, quietly following and politely looking at the ground, at least when you turn to stare at him. Halfway up you can't take it anymore and you step off to the side to bend over to breathe. The wine is churning in your stomach and you're slick with sweat from the heat. You wave him to go past you but you watch his legs stop in your vision before he taps you on the arm with his water bottle.

You snatch it with a muttered thanks before taking a few sips and handing it back. He's watching you quietly before you stand up and continue your march in silence with him still lingering a few steps behind you.

At the top, you breathe a sigh of relief before remembering you've still got about an hour's walk back. Maybe the rats would leave you alone if you just crawled under the bushes on the side of the road and slept there.

"We have to stop running into one another like this," comes a voice that makes your head snap up. It's the man from the motel in the baseball cap half leaning out the passenger window as he looks at you with a grin.

"I'm beginning to think you're following me," you answer the tone not a joke.

"Small island," he reasons as the guy from the beach walks around to climb in the car. Did all of these people know one another?

"Great, well enjoy," you answer and twist to walk the opposite way of the car.

"Motel's the other way," he calls and you hesitate in your steps. Goddamn it.

"Small island, I'll just walk the circle and get there eventually."

"We'll give you a ride." John is driving and he's watching you in the side mirror.

"I'm fine, thanks!" You shoot back and continue walking, stumbling a bit over some loose gravel.

"Careful."

A hand catches your elbow and you yank it back quickly looking up. Was all of Britain on this vacation? What are the odds you run into yet another British guy based on his accent?

""m fine," you snap as you take in him. He's tall, so tall you have to crane your head back to look at him. There isn't much to see of his face though between the black facial mask and sunglasses. He has a bag of what looks like takeaway in his hands and someone yells from the car for him to hurry up.

"The stumbling walk tells me otherwise," he answers as he blocks your path from continuing your walk. "Not safe to be out here alone in your state."

"Yeah? And what? Safer for me to get in the car with you lot?" You glance over your shoulder where the men inside the car continue to watch.

"Yes." He nods off to the right where another group of men are watching the whole scene unfold and as if on queue one wolf whistles while staring blatantly at you. "Considering Johnny was kind enough to keep them away from you on your walk, I would view us as the lesser of two evils."

"I-what?"

"It's the middle of the hottest part of the day, you think he went for a run for fun?" He laughs a bit, "get in the car."

Something about his tone is commanding enough for your confused, and tired, brain to listen. Maybe it's stupid. No, it is stupid. But what other choice do you have? You walk toward the car and the man in the back, Johnny, leans over to open it from the inside and you climb in.

The back seat is cramped once the other guy climbs in and he shoves the food into your hands, his knees tucked nearly to his chest. You take it before staring at John as he pulls off the curb and heads back to the motel.

Your heart is hammering through the whole drive, staring at street names, markers, anything to help you when they inevitably drove you down some side road and tried to murder you. No, they'd certainly murder you. Johnny's arms were the size of a small child and the guy next to you looks as if he could smash you under his foot.

True to their word though, you arrive back at the motel very much alive. Johnny gets out first and you slide out next to him and hand him the food with a shove before making to run for your room.

"Hang on," comes the big guy in the face mask's voice. You halt and twist as he walks over and sticks a Styrofoam box into your hands. "Living off wine and vending food is no way to spend your vacation." You swear he's grinning as you stare down at the box before he twists away to follow the other three men toward their room.

The food is delicious. You sit in the very center of your bed, above the blankets, and eat it all while watching the fuzzy television. You realize as you doze off in your wine haze that they had bought you food. There had been five boxes of in your hand sitting in that car as if they knew you'd say yes.

A few hours later you decide this was it. This was the thing that was going to send you into a breakdown.

Sunburnt, hungover, and the goddamn water in the shower is a very slow trickle that barely splashes the bottom of the tub. When you attempt to call the front desk for help it just rings. And rings. You're near hysterics in laughter, or rage, as you storm toward the door. Whoever is at the front desk is about to get an earful of misplaced anger.

Flinging the door open you make to storm right down to the front when a bit of your senses come back. You don't have shoes on and you are very much wrapped in just a towel. You twist to try and stop the door but it clicks shut just as your palm hits it. Shit. Shit. You wriggle the door handle hoping against hope that it didn't lock properly but it's good and snug in its place.

Gripping the towel knot at your collarbone you walk over to the railing and peer toward the front desk. Maybe no one would be around and you could just dart in there, ask the manager for another key, and run back before anyone saw.

The office is dark; they've closed for the evening it seems which is why no one had picked up.

"Oh my god," you whine as you twist to look back at your still very much closed and locked door. What do you do now? No phone, no key, no clothes. You glance to the right as someone steps out of their room and the leering look he gives you makes your stomach churn.

Lesser of two evils comes the masked guy's words. Right.

Before you can think better you walk down to the room that you know the four men are staying in and bang on the door. It's the middle of the night so you assume you're about to wake them but you barely get two knocks before it swings open. John is standing there looking very much awake, and perhaps a bit shocked at the state you're in.

Goddamn.

Where Johnny had been chiseled bronze earlier this guy is a broad-shouldered solid wall of man that you hadn't noticed the first time. He's not nearly as cut, but you know that brute strength lingers under his skin. Your eyes trace over his pecs that seem to bulge under his compression t-shirt.

"Ah, I know it's late...and this is all a bit odd," you say, your eyes sweeping into the room to see Johnny and the masked guy playing cards at a small table, their eyes darting between you and their hands. "But my shower wasn't working and one stupid thing led to another and I locked myself out of my room and the front desk is closed." You glance at the other stranger still standing watching you. "And I'm pretty sure if I don't get somewhere else my neighbor is going to kidnap me."

John looks out the door at the man who's smoking and smirking now and his hand gently comes between your shoulder blades to guide you inside.

"Kyle is just finishing up his shower then you can get cleaned up. See if I can scrounge up a shirt instead of just...that," his eyes give your body a once over and you feel goosebumps break out along your spine at the scrutiny.

You shuffle inside and grip at your towel to make sure it's good and wrapped before leaning against a dresser. This is so fucking awkward. The other two men continue their game doing their best to not stare and you jiggle your leg restlessly. What the hell were you going to do now? Just...sit here with them all night? You should have slept on the beach and risked the rats.

"This a guys' trip?" You ask into the silence in an attempt to fill it, noticing there were only two beds for the four men.

"Something like that," John answers as he brushes past you to sit on one of the beds. "What brings you here?"

"I decided to follow a stupid self-help book about finding yourself and a series of unfortunate events landed me here. I'm going to leave the author a horrible review." You sigh wistfully as the bathroom door opens. "I was supposed to be staying on the beach with my pick of men to bring home every night and just a nice break from reality for a bit. Little bit of 'eat pray love' in my life. But this has been a disaster."

"You've got at least one of those things," comes a voice, Kyle, as he walks out of the bathroom in just a towel slung around his hips. You have to mentally make sure your mouth is not hanging open at the sight because, fucking hell, he's gorgeous. The steam curling off his skin, water droplets still glistening on his chest, and a smile that about takes you out.

"Bloody showoff," Johnny mutters and you glance over at him before back to Kyle.

"Says the one running shirtless earlier, how's the burn?" The masked guy asks as he shows his cards and Johnny tosses his own in disgust at the loss.

"Sorry. What was that you mentioned? I've got one of the things?" You ask your hackles up a bit. This whole trip had been an absolute disaster, you hadn't gotten anything you had hoped for so far. "Fairly certain this motel is not the beachside villa I booked."

"Having your pick of men to bring home to your place," Kyle answers simply as if it were obvious. "I mean technically you're in our place but that's semantics." He waves a hand absently at the final word and you feel your toes curl at the thought, which he clocks instantly.

"I-what?" You ask a bit shocked looking between all of them.

"Do you think we would tell you no? Especially in that little number," John asks with a grin, his eyes on your fingers as you tug at the towel to see if it would grow an extra inch to cover more skin.

"And if I were to pick? What then? Rest of you go stand outside and wait? Sounds boring for the rest of you." You snipe sounding braver than you felt in an attempt to call their bluff. Surely they were messing with you.

"Can't just pick one doll," the masked guy answers and your eyes widen. "All or none, otherwise someone will be jealous and it's a whole fucking thing." You can see his eyes crinkle with a smirk.

Oh. Fuck. You squirm a bit under all their watchful eyes.

"Way to cut to the chase Simon," Kyle mutters as he takes in your shocked face.

"Dancing around it doesn't change it," Simon answers as he leans forward in his chair to peer at you. His head is cocked to the side a bit as if studying you, watching your body language as you process the newest development.

"All...are all of you," you stumble over your words, the filthy thoughts going through your mind despite the shock of it. "At the same time?"

"Promise we won't break you...unless you ask," Johnny supplies with a grin. "We can start slow though," he reasons cutting a look over at Simon as if warning him to keep his mouth shut.

"Can I," you lick your lips and dare a glance at the bathroom, "can I have a moment?" Because you are going to combust under their heated looks if you don't get away to breathe.

Kyle steps to the side and gestures to the bathroom to which you scamper to as quickly as possible. You shut the door with a snap and flip the lock before gripping the counter.

Were you really considering this? How could you not? But four men? Strangers. But the part you were most looking forward to of this vacation was no strings attached sex. And they certainly looked interested in helping you with that plan. Four? How would that even? Fuck, Kyle looked good. And how would it feel to grip onto John's chest and just...ride him? Shit, stop. But Johnny's arms looked plenty strong enough to hold you down so Simon could make you scream. Stop! These men had been purposely corralling you these past few days. But it was hot...how they wanted you. To share you. No.

Your brain is a garbled mess of thoughts as you look at yourself in the mirror. You need a drink, or ten. You take a shuddering breath, then another, as you steel yourself for your decision.

You only live once, right? You could always tell them to stop if you didn't want it. You could change your mind halfway through and end it...though you doubted you'd back out since just the thought of so many hands all over you, worshipping you, made your core ache with need. After all these shitty few days you deserved a good night, dammit. And who better to help than four men who had quite literally been chasing you around the island? Maybe the universe wasn't such a bitch after all.

"Fuck it," you announce as you pull open the bathroom door to give them your answer. But Kyle is already standing there and he grips you by the back of the neck to pull you to him in a heated kiss, stealing the rest of your words out of your mouth.

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #cod #141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #141 x you #tf 141 x you #x female reader #x fem!reader #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish x reader #captain john price #CoDVacationMode

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