#also slept for like 14 hours again and I don't like it

[running-in-the-dark]

.

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

Every time Prapai gives Sky medicine, he's narcoleptic inside 5 minutes.

[ottosuricatoblog]

"Nightmare."

Author: hola! I'm starting a new chapter of my life and it's going to keep me a bit busier, but I'll try to keep posting as much as I can. I decided to mix up this 2 requests since I thought they went well together. I really like how this turned out, and I hope you like it too!

Request: Hi! I loved your fics! I looked at the prompt list and honestly so many of them would go perfectly with Sandor. How about 7? The reader soothing Sandor after a nightmare and then continuing with smutt.. That would be quite hot.

Request: Hi! Could I request something with 14 and 19? With Sandor and y/n already married if possible, something fluffy and sweet🥰 There was also one prompt about hand kisses but I forgot which number, so if you could add something about that too that would be lovely!!

Prompts:

7. [character] wakes up breathing heavily from a nightmare, and you soothe them by bringing them to your chest, and whispering sweet things to their ear while your hand caresses their hair.

14. tracing [character]'s features while they sleep, and vice versa.

19. “gods, your lips are so sweet. Please kiss me again?”

80. [character] giving you knuckle, hand, and palm kissing.

WARNINGS: language, night terrors, smut, oral sex (him receiving)

Sandor has always had trouble sleeping, especially since the fire incident. He never slept for longer than 3 or 4 hours. He was more than used to it by now, and now you were too. You are what is called a sleepy head. You used to have trouble sleeping as well, but sleeping next to Sandor changed everything. Now, you could sleep for hours and hours as long as he's with you, holding you somehow. It's one of the many perks of having him as a husband.

Tonight, after a passionate session, you were lying on him, both of you naked. You always drifted off right after sex, and tonight was no different. He loved those moments, just holding you while you were in your most vulnerable.

You turn in your sleep, laying your head on the pillow instead. He then turns into his side, holding his head up with his left arm. He stares at your profile, wondering how he got so lucky. He raises his arm, using his index finger to trace your features. He starts at your forehead, continuing along your nose and down to your lips. Gods, those lips.

He repeats his actions a few times until you shift, turning again to bury your head in his chest. He hugs you into him, kissing your head.

"Goodnight, Y/N." He mumbles into your hair, nodding off soon after that.

You wake up to Sandor shaking and whining beside you. You turn to look at him. He's extremely sweaty, and his face cringes in pain.

"Gregor! No!" He whimpers.

You sit next to him, taking his head between your hands.

"Sandor!" You say, holding his head. "Baby, it's just a dream."

He whimpers again. Noticing what you're doing isn't enough, you move your hands to his shoulders, shaking quickly.

Sandor wakes up abruptly, his defensive instincts on. You take your hands off his shoulders, raising them before you in a redemptive way.

"It's me." You say softly. "You're okay. It was just a nightmare."

His gaze softens when he meets your eyes, his breathing getting back to normal.

"It's okay." You say, bringing his head to your chest and stroking his hair. "You're okay. I'm here."

"I'm sorry." He mumbles.

"Don't be." You whisper. "We don't need to talk about it."

He nods, silently thanking you. He moves a bit, so his head is resting on your lap while you continue stroking his hair.

He takes your hand in his and brings it to his face, giving you knuckle, hand, and palm kisses.

After a few minutes, his breathing is completely back to normal.

"Better?" You ask in a soothing voice.

"Yes." He mumbles, kissing your hand on more time before sitting up.

He moves to sit next to you, and you caress his face, turning to kiss him softly. He hums, kissing you back.

When the kiss breaks, you hear him mumble against your lips. "Gods, your lips are so sweet." He moves his hands to your waist and shifts you so you're straddling his lap. "Please kiss me again?"

You smile, understanding what he wants. Your husband is a dominant man. It's pretty obvious to everyone. Normally, Sandor is also dominant when you two are intimate, and you do love it when he is. Some nights, though, he just needs to feel loved, for which he likes to give up control. Tonight is one of those nights.

Leaning in to kiss him passionately, you move your hands to the nape of his neck. You slightly scrape the skin there as you know he loves, and you feel his groan inside of your mouth.

You kiss all over his face, especially over his burnt-out side. When you reach his earlobe, you gently bite it, whispering. "I'm going to take care of you."

He hums, moving his hands from your hips to your backside.

"Hands off." You say, running your tongue over his bottom lip. "I'm doing all the touching tonight."

The smirk on his face tells you he's enjoying this as much as you are, and he takes his hands off your butt to position them on the bed.

You kiss him again, harder than before. You feel his half hard cock twitch between your bodies. After years together, you know exactly what gets him going.

You kiss his lips one last time before moving to his neck. You know he likes it a bit rough, so you bite all over his skin, sucking afterward.

You hear him groan. He loves to mark you, and he secretly loves to be marked as well. It tells the world he's yours.

"You're so hot." You say, kissing your way down to his groin. You hear him moan.

You avoid touching his now aching hard cock, kissing his belly instead. Your hands move his thighs, softly scratching the hair there.

"Fucking Gods Y/N." He whines. "Do something."

This is teasing you as much as him, and you know this is going to come back to you as payback sooner than later, but you enjoy the sounds he makes when you tease him too much.

"I'm doing something..." You say against his skin, smirking. "What do you want?"

He groans desperately, realizing he's going to have to say it. "Please, dear wife." He says, and you look up with a smug smile. "Take me into that pretty mouth."

Your smile grows wider victoriously. You sit comfortably between his legs, and you grab his cock and suck his head slowly. He lets out a moan he reserves for these nights, when your teasing frustrates him.

"See." You say, stroking his cock slowly. "You just had to ask."

You don't give him time to answer as you take him into your mouth again, sucking with gusto. His groans are music to your ears.

"Oh fuck, love." He moans. "Suck that cock."

You bob your head repeatedly, taking as much as you can of his cock. You see his hand moving to your head, but he remembers your command and places it in back on the bed, clenching his fist around the bed sheets. You reward him by moving your hand to stroke the part you're not sucking.

You keep sucking vigorously, enjoying his pleasure as if it was your own.

"You're so fucking good at this." He groans. "So fucking good."

His praising makes you smile, and you take a second to take a breath and look up at him. His lustful eyes meet yours.

"Do you want me to stay here?" You say, pecking his head, to which he trembles slightly. "Or do you want me to ride you?"

If you were wet from the teasing, sucking his cock has made you literally dripping.

He licks his lips, exhaling heavily. "Ride me." His voice is darker than usual. "But first I need a kiss."

You smile but move up, straddling his waist again and leaning in to meet his lips. You hum against his mouth as he deliciously sucks your tongue.

"You ready?" He asks, and it almost offends you that he doesn't know how wet sucking him off makes you.

You take his hand, leading it to your pussy.

He moans at the touch. "Fuck, baby. You're soaking."

You kiss him again. "You can touch me now." You say, biting his bottom lip.

He hums, moving his hands to their spot on your hips as you move up, taking his cock in your hand and positioning it at your entrance.

You both let out a moan as you sink into him.

"You feel so good." You moan.

"Ride that cock, darling." He grunts.

You start to move, your hips doing circular motions as they move up and down, which you know he loves. His moans are guttural, needy. Yours are starting to turn into whimpers.

He sits up, kissing you desperately. The new position changes the angle slightly, hitting all the right spots inside you. He moves his thumb to stroke your clit.

"Sandor." You moan against his mouth. "Just like that."

"Gods." He groans. "I'm..."

You already know he's close by the way he's clenching his jaw, so you speed up, humping him.

"Come for me." You moan. "Come in me."

He lets out a loud groan as he starts to come, which triggers your own orgasm. You keep moving to prolong your pleasure. Once you're done, you lay on his chest, exhausted.

His breathing is still getting back to normal when you feel him caressing your back.

"I love you." He says, kissing your hair.

You're almost asleep when he hears you mumble an "I love you too."

Taglist: @broadsdrinkwhisky @malkaviangirl if you want to be in, let me know🩷

[barbieaiden]

2. Aiden: [Deep breath]

3. Aiden: Fuck.

4. Sam: For future reference, please, please, use butter. You're ruining my pans.

Aiden: Ooooh. That's why it ended up like this.

Sam: How—How did you forget?

Aiden: I mean, you should be impressed I even made something semi-edible.

Sam: ...sure.

5. Aiden: You slept longer than usual.

Sam: A whole six hours.

Aiden: That must be a record.

6. Sam: You shouldn't have done this. I can make my own breakfast.

Aiden: Well, I wanted to do it for you.

Sam: Yes, but—

Aiden: Making breakfast isn't going to kill me, I promise. If the doctor people say it's fine, it probably is.

7. Sam: But if you're also going to work... I just don't think you should overexert yourself.

Aiden: Making half-assed breakfast was not that strenuous.

Sam: You're serving me "half-assed breakfast"?

8. Aiden: Well, I mean, the bread is really dry, the pancakes are rubbery, and the coffee is probably bitter, but it was made with love. Enjoy.

Sam: Shut up, Aiden. It's perfect.

Aiden: You're so cute when you lie straight to my face.

9. Sam: I mean it. The pancakes aren't nearly as rubbery as they look.

Aiden: So I'm pretty much a professional chef now.

Sam: I wouldn't go that far.

10. Aiden: Did you sleep well?

Sam: Sort of. Are you sure you're able to work?

Aiden: I feel fine, really. Worst case scenario I'll go to the ER and Jordan will take care of me.

Sam: Comforting.

11. Aiden: I feel fine. Really. I'd tell you if I weren't.

Sam: Would you?

Aiden: Yeah. For sure.

Sam: Mhm.

12. Aiden: Seriously, I feel so trapped, you know? I'm going to lose my mind if I don't get to actually do things again. Not that I mind hanging out with you 24/7, but I'd like to go outside too. Breathe real air.

Sam: I understand.

13. Sam: Are you leaving already?

Aiden: Sorry. I'll go grocery shopping on my way home, do you need anything?

Sam: Didn't I just tell you to not overexert yourself?

14.

Aiden: You know what, just text me a list of everything you need.

Sam: Aiden...

15.

Aiden: Have a good day I'll see you late love you byyyyyye.

16.

Sam: I love you too.

[call-sign-shark]

Under the Willow Tree ||Alfie Solomons x OC (letters)

Summary: While he was roaming through paper works in his office, Alfie Solomons finds an unopened letter by chance. A letter written by his wife when he was fighting for his life at the hospital after his violent encounter with Thomas Shelby. Alfie still decides to write a reply... Unfortunately, he loses it before he can hand it to his Mrs. Solomons.

Notes: Letters exchange written for @raincoffeeandfandoms' event "The Peaky Receives Letters". The first letter was written by Flor (@raincoffeeandfandoms) herself, and Alfie's answer is mine. Hope I did a good job at portraying your sweet Alfie!

My dearest love, Alfie.

It's been two whole days since Thomas shot you. You're lying here in bed, surrounded by doctors and nurses who don't know if you'll recover or not. I haven't slept in 48 hours and I don't know if I will be able to again, not while you are there. 

I write this letter in the hope that I will be able to tell you all this in person when you wake up. I have spoken to you as you lie there, but I can't tell if you can hear me or not. And the anguish inside me, it needs to come out. I've told myself that I have to be strong that I have to be fighting by your side, like we always did, but I don't always have the strength. And I'm so tired.

I decided, instead, to remember nice moments we spent together. There's a memory I have of us when we were 17, maybe you've already forgotten about it. You were already in charge of the bakery where you started working at 14 and you were starting to get interested in having your own "bakery". You always called the business you really wanted to get involved in that way, I guess it was easier to call it that, than calling it an illegal distillery. I always thought it was funny, even today.

We had gone on a picnic day in the middle of spring. We had brought apples and several of those little cakes you used to bake. We had planned everything and the day couldn't have been more perfect. I remember the sun was shining and I remember the tree we sat under. It was a willow tree whose branches touched the stream in front of which we were sitting. 

I think the day was beautiful, at least is how I remember it. There were even ducks that we also fed. We hadn't been able to have a date like that in a long time because we were both working and really needed some time alone. Do you remember? We could barely see each other in the evenings. And sometimes not even that.

At first, it was beautiful. The food and you was all I wanted. But the things started to go wrong when we got distracted and the ants decided they wanted your pies, too. You were so angry with them! But we couldn't do nothing because, of course, they outnumbered us. So we moved from there, because it was a war we couldn't win. There was another tree, so we went under that one. But it happened that we never saw the beehive. The bees were not happy with us. The way we run! We abandoned the basket and the remaining food there. Probably the ducks ate the rest. Our date next to the stream was terrible. I remember you were mad, because you couldn't give me the perfect date you wanted. But to me, it was perfect. I laughed a lot after that.

We have shared so many things like this, Al, and I know we have to keep making memories because we can't end up like this. I can't let the one person I loved my whole life, my first kiss, my first love, to die because of a bullet from Thomas Shelby. I know you'll survive.

I'll leave the letter in a drawer, hoping I'll never have to write another one like this one. 

I hear voices, what's happening? They're coming from the room where you are. It sounds like your voice. Is it possible? Or is the lack of sleep making me hallucinate? I'll go and see. My heart is beating so fast…

Yours, always.

Rosie.

Ahuvi sheli,

As I was looking for some tedious paperwork, I found your letter by chance, hidden under the mess on my desk. I know this terrible event is far behind us now and that you are peacefully sleeping on the couch, snuggling against Cyril by the fire. Still, I can’t resolve myself to let this heartbreaking letter without any answer. You’ve opened your heart by writing this, so let me ink mine on the back of this same paper.

When I was laying in a pit of darkness, trapped in the flesh prison of my own body, I felt Death’s presence creeping in the shadow, waiting for me to stop fighting so that It could take me away from you. Fear paralyzing me, fatigue eating up my remaining strength, I was convinced I would die here without being able to kiss your honey lips goodbye… My heart ached at this sole thought. But then, I heard your wonderful and enchanting voice talking to me in this dull hospital room, and suddenly the thick darkness was not there anymore. I felt the sweet caress of sun rays warming up my skin and I smelled the intoxicating fragrances of your floral perfume — the last one I gifted you for our anniversary. And there I was, near the mighty willow tree we would sit by when we were 17. Even though I was alone, I could still hear you talking to me from a faraway distance. Each word, each sigh, each sob… I held onto them, finding strength in your love until I could finally reopen my eyes.

You always compliment how tough I am — both physically and mentally. Whether I am carrying huge bags of flour or handling the Shelby and Sabini’s situations.  I usually answer that the strongest of us was you. After all, you were the one who kept fighting after the awful years these Evert bastards had made you undergo. I would gladly tell you that I would piss on Lawrence’s grave but since it is a letter I guess I should remain polite. Yet, despite how strong you are, I am deeply sorry for worrying you and involuntarily making you suffer after that cunt Tommy Shelby shot my fucking face. Living with the fact I caused your tears to run down your sweet face will be the bane of my existence, but I promise to make amend for all the sorrow I caused you.

Rosie, my beloved flower, what is the willow tree without your elegant frame? What are the birds’ whistles without the symphony of your adorable laugh? What is Alfie Solomons without Rose? Fucking nothing. And since I’ve risen back from the dead to pull you in my arms, let me write down our latest wonderful moment that happened yesterday: You were in the kitchen, sitting at the table with the tip of your pen trapped between your gorgeous lips. The more you flipped the pages, the more you were getting angry because you could not decipher my admittedly awful handwriting. I tried to make you laugh but you were not in the mood, and at some point, you thought I was so annoying that you threw a bit of flour at me without being aware of the consequences… We looked at each other silently for a few seconds, and then the same thought crossed our minds. We rushed to the nearest bag of flour and proceeded to turn our kitchen into a battlefield of white powder. You laughed! Oh, you laughed so much that diamond tears ran down your pinkish cheeks. 

You laughed, my little Rose, and I fell in love with you again for the hundredth time.

Don’t fear the voices you might hear, they are just the murmurs of my soul whispering to yours how much I love you. Also, Fuck Tommy and his little bitchass bullets — this prick can’t even aim— for nothing will take me away from you. 

Forever yours, mind, body, and soul,

Alfie. 

Tag list:

@runnning-outof-time

@shelbydelrey

@there-goes-thefighter

@cljordan-imperium

@dandelionprints

@zablife

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@look-at-the-soul

[xxavengingangelxx]

Long Way From Home 4/?

Notes: I have finished writing this. Kinda. So it's going to be a series most likely. I need to see MW3 in November to make it as correct and canon as possible. So it's kind of a cliffhanger but it should continue once I play MW3. Time runs a little slower in this universe but should still be relatively canon. I still don't know how many parts are left but I have 50 pages of this. Expect more parts until I post all 50 pages :)

Also, if you wanna cry, go listen to Paralyzed by NF. :'( It helped me write the end(?) of the first part of these series.

Also, this quote applies to OC/Val/Reader and will be THE quote to summarize this fic: "There's a story behind every person. There's a reason why they're the way they are. They aren't just like that because they want to be. Something in the past created them, and sometimes it's impossible to fix."-Hanny Quinn

Ya'll know the drill. I assume this isn't ya'll's first rodeo when it comes to reading this but alas, because it's a dark fic, I will post triggers again. MDNI, 18+ TRIGGERS: Implied/attempted suicide, self-harm, torture, brainwashing, physical abuse, mind fuckery, Stockholm syndrome-related mental gymnastics, trauma bonding, mentions of foster care, threatened/implied/referenced rape, EXTREMELY dubious consent. If I miss, any let me know, please! DARK FIC

-

“I need you to do something for me,” Graves had you sitting in a large conference room. You wringed your hands in your lap nervously. The room was cold and so sterile. It was just you and Graves and you felt so small.

You’d thrown on a hooded sweatshirt because it seemed like you were always cold here. You’d apparently slept for 14 hours straight but you still felt tired. Considering they’d kept you awake for days on end at times, that wasn’t surprising.

“What’s that say?” he slid a manila folder your way.

You hesitated in opening it because what if it was code from 141? You couldn’t betray them. But at the same time you felt abandoned, forgotten. Whatever happened to never leaving a soldier behind?

But open it you did. They were newspaper clippings. All about El Sin Nombre. And about the gunshots that had been heard the night you were taken. And about Hassan. They were in Spanish.

“The newspapers?”

Graves nodded.

“Do you have something I can write with and on?”

-

You spent hours translating all the clippings into English, writing them into a small notebook. Hours turned into days and you translated newspapers, articles, military documents. They let you sleep at regular intervals. You had water, you had food. Hell you’d fallen asleep with you head on that cold conference table a few times now and they hadn’t bothered you.

Graves would come in periodically to get what was already translated and take it somewhere, you had no idea where.

One time he came in and sat right beside you. You instantly got nervous…and scared. You glanced up at him, dark gaze meeting his electric blue one.

“What?” you whispered.

“It’s not so bad, is it?”

You shook your head, not understanding what he was getting at.

“What do…what do you mean?” your voice trembled and you hated it.

“Workin’ for me,” he stated simply.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Can’t promise I’ll answer but shoot,”

“Did I break?” you asked, wanting to know if you’d given in amongst all that pain and torture and given him something useful.

“I can’t answer that,”

-

What you guessed were your days were spent translating. Your nights were spent on your knees, on your back, or with Graves’s face in between your legs, his stubble rubbing roughly amongst the inside of your thighs, drawing out unholy noises from you all while holding your hips down so you couldn’t escape him.

You push the thought that he’s borderline raping you away from your mind because your mind and your sanity just can’t fucking handle that. Yes you’d admitted to yourself that this wasn’t entirely consensual. He was your captor and you were his hostage for fuck’s sake. You had no idea what would happen if you refused him but you were scared to. Still, you convinced yourself this wasn’t rape. Your mind would finish breaking down if you did. You’d been through enough.                               

One day he randomly told you that you didn’t remember certain things because they’d been drugging you. But he assured you they weren’t doing that anymore, now that you were just so cooperative. Your homing beacon had been left behind in Las Almas. 141 had probably come across it and only that when they thought your homing beacon would lead to you. They’d probably found your radio ripped to pieces somewhere, too.

Graves assured you there was no way 141 was going to find you. You didn’t know how to feel about that. You’d been feeling abandoned. You’d been wondering why they hadn’t come for you. Surely 141 would have found you if they tried hard enough, right?

At the same time Graves told you that you probably didn’t want them to find you. “You’ve been working with me for almost a week now. They don’t want you back.”

You told yourself he was playing mind games, that he was slowly peeling away your identity so he could rebuild a new one. 141 would understand, right? They’d understand when you came back to them with broken ribs in several stages of healing, bruises that were blue and purple and yellow, a nose that had been broken multiple times, and possibly a hairline skull fracture all inflicted over you captivity. Right? They’d understand that you only did what you had to when they saw the numerous scars all over your body, right? One of them from a suicide attempt.

“You would’ve died on the streets of Las Almas without us,” Graves mentioned one night. “No telling what would’ve happened to you,” he continued. “I know how you grew up.” Those cold blue eyes focused on you in the low lighting of his bedroom. “Foster care. In and out of homes, being bounced around.”

You didn’t know you were crying until you felt tears falling down your sweaty face.

“You don’t have to keep that shit up anymore,” he said, brushing the tears from your face. “They’re not gonna take you back. They see you as a traitor. Stay here. We’ll take care of you.” He paused before adding, “We’d tear the world up lookin’ for ya if you went missing. Can’t same the same for 141.”

So you stayed. And not once did you think about leaving. Besides, even you attempted escape, Graves would find you and rip you apart all over again. It wasn’t worth it.

141 didn’t want you back, right? Your worst fear was being bounced around, being homeless, not wanted.

-

You got a watch one random day. A Samsung. Of course the location features had been disabled. But you knew the date.

Shadow Company had been protecting you for one month now.

-

You were learning the black site, at least the layout. There were still areas you weren’t allowed to go. You tensed when you passed a Shadow. They looked at you different now, though.

You heard Graves’s voice coming from a conference room.

“She’s ours now. So you protect her and you look out for her. Think of her as your little sister.”

-

You woke up to Graves shaking you.

“Get dressed. We gotta move.”

“What’s going on?” you asked sleepily.

“We’re under attack,”

-

You were in oversized fatigues, rolling up the sleeves and pant legs at least half a dozen times over so they would somewhat fit you. You felt like you were overheating as Graves tightened a thin Kevlar vest under your black uniform shirt before strapping it on. Tight. He pulled the zipper up on the shirt and then placed something at your feet. It was a heavier vest, similar to the one you’d had with 141.

But it was a Shadow Company vest. Your mind tried to reason that they weren’t giving back your old vest because it associated you with 141. They wanted to erase that identity and build a new one, remember? All the vests you’d seen on the other men as well as Graves had the Shadow Company emblem. The name tag?

P-80. It stood for Phantom-80. The name looked new and an increasingly fading part of your mind whispered that they’d given you the name Phantom because it mocked 141’s Ghost. You ignored it. What were the chances of that?

“Why do I need two?” you asked as Graves fastened the Velcro on the larger vest.

“Trust me,” was all he said.

He gave you a sidearm.

-

Shadows were engaged in gunfire. It was night. It was cold. Wasn’t it autumn? You’d forgotten how loud gunfire was. You were used to only hearing your own screams and other sounds that weren’t gunfire.

You had gotten so used to being indoors, to being in relative silence for the last month and a half now. So the gunfire was deafening, disorienting. Graves demanded you stay low and stay close to the Shadow he paired you with. Graves then disappeared.

Time seemed to drag on. You stayed low while you were both fired at and the Shadow returned fire.

Then the world went black for a few second and you found yourself in dirt. The breath had been knocked out of you and you felt a familiar sensation…you been shot but your vests had stopped it. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. You gasped for breath.

The Shadow with you dragged you somewhere by grabbing your vest. He pulled you out of harm’s way. Then more bangs, closer this time, and you were dropped to the dirt. The Shadow dragging you to safety had been shot. You crawled over to him, the momentary stop in the gunfire allowing you to do so. The bullet had slipped in just under the rim of his helmet and entered his brain on the left side of his face, just above his left eyebrow.

“Oh, my God!” you shrieked. You shook him but he just stared at the sky with lifeless grey eyes. “Hey—” you shook him but it was no use. He was dead, and he probably never even knew what killed him. So you slipped his rifle off of him and ran for cover.

You found yourself in another dilapidated building as you tried to catch your breath. You began hearing familiar voices. 141?

No, no, no, no, no…you’d been separated from them for so long that you would honestly feel like an enemy combatant in their hands. So you hid. You ran to the second floor of the building, stepping over gaps in the floor. You curled into a corner, rifle pointed at the doorway. You then cursed yourself because fuck going up to the second floor effectively trapped you. But maybe the soldiers below were too engaged in killing each other to even bother going up to a second floor if no one was firing from it.

You covered your ears when the gunfire got louder. It was getting closer and you had no fucking idea who was shooting. You really were a broken soul because you never used to cover your ears at the sound of gunfire. Things then became eerily quiet. Gun smoke hung heavily in the air, almost blocking out the thunderstorm clouds gathering.

You jumped when you heard thunder and you had to convince yourself if was thunder and not gunfire.

You stayed there for minutes, hours, who knows how long as sporadic gunfire filled your ears. You jumped with each shot, covering your ears. You were a shell of your former self. That much you knew.

Now that you were still your ribs ached. At least the vests had stopped the bullet.

Rain started and while you normally loved stormy nights, you cursed it now because it made it hard for you to see your environment and hear what was going on around you. Staying on alert so long without anyone to help you keep watch was exhausting.

You heard a creak. You opened your eyes, instantly awake. The gunfire had stopped. Where the hell were you and where was Shadow Company? Was Graves okay?

Downstairs you heard two gunshots and what sounded like a heavy body hitting the floor.

You raised the rifle, almost certain you were hearing footsteps. Someone was coming up those stairs. And whoever it was sounded large and heavy.

“Graves?” you called out.

No answer.

“Graves please tell me that’s you,” you added.

Whoever was there was now on the second floor. You were sure if you heard more footsteps coming up those stairs as you were focused on trying to pinpoint how close whoever was on the second floor was in reference to you.

You were sure that the person on the second floor would be at your doorway soon. You held your breath.

The footsteps stopped but no one appeared in the doorway.

You wondered if you were losing it. What if you were half asleep and dreaming?

“Graves, c’mon, man,” you whispered.

One more soft noise and the doorway was almost entirely blocked by a dark, tall figure.

Not Graves.

Not a Shadow.

König.

You didn’t know what to think. But you didn’t lower the rifle either. What was he doing here? Was 141 here?

“Don’t come any closer,” you warned.

“Val,” König’s voice seemed confused. “It’s me. It’s us.”

You kept the rifle raised but fuck because you couldn’t shoot.

“Please don’t come closer,” you begged.

“He can’t hurt you anymore, ja?”

So you faked it. You pulled the rifle’s strap over your head and set it down next to you.

“Okay,” König replied calmly. He got closer. He had long since dropped his rifle, leaving it to hang off his shoulder.

As soon as he got within arm’s length you ran past him. He definitely wasn’t expecting it but he still tried to grab you. You being small, you found it easy to escape his grasp, especially because he had not been expecting you to run. You knelt below his reach and ran.

You sprinted down the stairs, praying to God you’d run into Graves.

You were halfway down the stairs when you ran into Soap. König must have said something over the radio because Soap was ready for you.

Soap grabbed you, led you down the remaining stairs and easily put you on the ground on the first floor face down. Soap then got on top of you, straddling you from behind in an attempt to gain control and calm you.

You heard him say something but it didn’t register.

Mindlessly, you reached for your sidearm, getting desperate. Graves had told you they’d kill you if they found you and while you weren’t willing or able to shoot before now the idea was starting to look like it might be your only option to save your life.

“No, Val,” Soap said calmly. He pried the gun from your hand effortlessly and tossed it aside.

You reached for a knife on your vest.

And the same thing happened. He disarmed you without really putting any effort into it.

Boots stepped into your line of vision and you looked up. Ghost. He handed Soap something.

“Don’t kill me,” you begged.

“Never,” Soap replied. “But you’re unpredictable right now, lass, okay?” Zipties enclosed your wrists and pulled tight.

-

You snapped back to reality, gasping awake. You were on a bed. You’d fallen asleep apparently. So you had been dreaming.

“What’d you dream about?”

You recognized that voice. Graves.

“That they took me,” you replied. You sat up. You were at another black site. “How did we get out?”

Graves moved to sit next to you. He still had that battlefield smell of gunpowder and sweat. “You don’t remember getting out?”

You shook your head. You were sure you were losing your mind.

“Bad dream, then?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “A nightmare. I was scared they’d kill me.”

“They will if they catch you,”

You ran your hand through your hair, pushing it out of your face. Your bangs still fell over your eyes and forehead.

“141 shot you,” Graves added.

“Were they aiming at me?”

“Who’s to say they weren’t?”

“Where am I?” you asked. Graves was sitting next to you, still geared up.

Graves scoffed. “Safe.”

“You okay?” You ask him. “I was scared you’d get hurt.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” Graves then added, “It pissed me off they hurt you.”

“What’s next?” you asked.

“Staying in the shadows,” he responded simply.

You didn’t know why that made you tear up but it did. You sniffled. Wait…did it mean you were going to spend the rest of your life running with Shadows and looking over your shoulder?

“C’mere,” he muttered.

So you sat up and he pulled you into his arms. And you let him. He pulled the Velcro off your heavier vest and lowered to the floor and off the bed where you both sat. While you could barely hear his heartbeat through that big vest of his, you heard enough. His scent, his heartbeat, his body heat lulled you into a dozing state. You felt him place a hand on the back of our neck, brushing your hair softly. He placed his chin on top of your head.

And that was one of the first times that his presence settled you and calmed you.

You were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep but you were scared of having another bad dream. You needed to feel sure this was your reality, that you were really there.

So you shook off Graves’s hands and grasped his vest. You crawled into his lap, straddling him before kissing him.

By kissing him you could almost feel the tension he was under. It was almost like you were starting to be able to read him just by looking at him. He needed stress relief and you needed to feel him to remind yourself that you were still there. With Graves. You had no idea what 141 would do to you if they caught you but you didn’t want to find out. You felt him moan underneath you when you ground yourself against him.

Apparently that was all the invitation he needed. He easily picked you up and tossed you onto the bed. He climbed over you and straddled you, his gloved hands pulling down the zipper on your oversized shirt before tossing it aside.

The sound of Velcro ripping only made you hotter. What was it about vest Velcro ripping that turned you on? He easily pulled the lighter vest off of you and placed it next to the bed. Your shirt underneath the vest was pulled from you followed by your bra.

“I’m busy, darlin’,” you heard Graves growl. He leaned down to kiss you before then unbuckling your belt. So you kicked off your boots, hearing them fall to the floor heavily. You heard your uniform pants hit the floor, the sidearm attached to them causing a metallic clank.

“I don’t care,” you whined.

You were completely naked beneath him yet he was still fully geared. You found that hot.

He flipped you around, roughly putting you on your chest and stomach. You heard him unbuckling his belt and you pushed back against him. “So needy,” he gasped.

“Show me who I belong to,” the words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. Who the fuck were you turning into?

Graves then placed a rough, gloved hand at the back of your neck, pushing you into the mattress and used the other to wrap a hand around your waist, pulling you into an arched position. It was like he could read you as well. You wanted it rough and he knew.

“Don’t move,” he demanded.

So you didn’t. Your breath came out in short huffs, blowing your hair from your face before having it fall across your eyes again.

Graves placed two bruising hands on either side of your hips.

He didn’t go slow, didn’t give you time to adjust to him like he had all the previous times before. He pushed inside of you so roughly that he bottomed out inside of you and hit your cervix.

 A scream was ripped from your lips. It was pain and pleasure and pressure and just feeling owned, feeling wanted. It reminded you that you hadn’t been taken away from him, that you were still there, with Graves.

“Quiet,” he snapped.

Graves grasped your hair, pushing you further into the bed in an attempt to muffle your sounds.

A ragged moan left your mouth when you felt him move inside you.

“Fuuuuck, Graves,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Slut, you’re getting off on this,” he stated between gasps.

You wanted to snap back, “So are you,” and you started but his relentless thrusts cut you off. He’d never been this rough with you ever but fuck you liked it.

You were cockdrunk and lost in the pain and pleasure.

Graves removed one of his hands from your hips and reached between your legs, roughly rubbing your clit all while carrying out deep, penetrating thrusts and hitting that spot deep inside you. The combination of the sensations, of feeling a slight hint of his nails between your legs finally pushed you over the edge. You surrendered yourself, your soul, your body, to him just as you’d done every time before. You screamed his name, although not audibly, more into the covers of the bed.

Graves followed shortly after, his thrusts faltering almost and becoming sloppy as he gave into his feral, untamed, animalistic desires.

He pulled out of you and let go of you. So you collapsed onto the bed, gasping as you tried to catch your breath. You heard him rebuckle his pants and he placed a shaky hand on your back, steadying himself before he moved and sat next to you on the bed.

You curled up next to him, feeling your combined fluids start to spill onto your inner thighs. “Where’d that come from?”

“It’s been a long time comin’, sweetheart,” he used his hand to brush hair from your sweaty face. “Hey,” he caught your attention before saying, “I need your dog tags.”

You frowned. But you didn’t care. You’d been conditioned to do what he said without questioning it. “Have ‘em,” you handed them over.

He took them and pocketed them. You were curious but knew better than to question him.

“I’m tired but I’m scared to sleep,” you admitted.

“Go to sleep,” he said. You felt him lie down next to you. With all that gear it couldn’t be comfortable. He wrapped an arm around you.

“Hey, what’s up with Phantom-80?” you mumbled.

“Your callsign,” Graves responded. “You’re ours now. You’re mine now.”

And weirdly enough that was all it took to lull you into sleep.

That night you had your worst dream yet.

141 had found you. But they were…different. They wanted to know where Graves was. You knew but you weren’t willing to give them that information.

But even when they were making you scream from the pain they were inflicting on you, something deep down was telling you this wasn’t them. But then again what if this was how they were going to treat you from now on?

-

Notes: Feel free to let me know what you thought ;) You'll keep falling down the rabbit hole of Stockholm Syndrome with each post.

[acidh2otoby]

Agent Kennedy, Part 14

Leon Kennedy x Male!Reader

Warnings: None

Part 13 > Agent Kennedy, Part 13

I'm back to the series! I've been busy with some personal shit, holidays are harsh with timing and trying to remember my wacky work schedule is... yeah, it's fun. But there aren't many parts left in this series (hopefully 🥲👍) and this one will be the beginning of the end. I'll still be making content but it'll be different stuff. Also, currently so excited and impatient for RE4R and the movie Resident Evil: Death Island coming out!

Also, happy Valentine's Day! Didn't intend on posting this on the day but here we are!

Some months had passed since the incident in China, you and Leon were starting to get back together. Leon had been staying at your house for a little after you two talked and agreed to somewhat start over. The relationship was a little healthier and you were both a little happier than before.

You still worked with the BSAA and had to spend a few days at work for longer than you wanted to, trying to find new soldiers and even new equipment since a lot of it either got destroyed or got lost. This ended up in Chris calling you late at night when you were sleeping to ask if you could come in.

And to speak of the devil, you and Leon had fallen asleep an hour ago and your phone just started ringing. You sighed and groaned as you rolled over and sat up, grabbing your phone and answering it.

"Hello?" You said, hearing Leon sit up as well.

"Hey, (Y/N). Sorry to call you at two in the morning." Chris apologized, knowing you were sleeping.

"It's fine. What's going on?" You asked, wanting to get whatever he needed done so you could go back to bed.

"I'm gonna ask if you could come in soon? I need to show you something." Chris said, he sounded a little nervous.

"Yeah, I'll be there soon." You said, sighing a little.

"Thanks, (Y/N). I'll see you when you get here." Chris said before he told you goodbye and hung up the phone.

"What was that all about?" Leon asked, laying back down.

"I gotta go in." You said, putting your phone down and grabbing your clothes. Leon groaned at the news. "Look, I don't want to either but the sooner I get this shit done, the more I don't have to do this every night."

"I know... but, I miss you when your gone." You felt Leon wrap his arms around you as he finished his sentence.

"I miss you too when I'm gone, but that makes it even better when I come home." You said, placing your hand on Leon's arm and gently headbutting him.

Leon sighed, he seemed to get a little heavy on your shoulder. You glanced over and saw that his eyes were shut and he was relaxed.

"Leon..." You chuckled, shifting a little to get him to wake up.

Leon lifted his head from your shoulder before letting you go and laying back down, he fell asleep relatively fast after laying down. You smiled at him before you put on more clothes than just a t-shirt and your underwear.

You had left around 1:00.am and got back home at 4:00.am. Leon slept the entire time you were gone but woke up almost immediately once you sat down on the bed to change again. You were busy taking your shoes off when Leon sat up and did what he did before you left, wrap his arms around you.

"Dammit, Leon. You scared me." You said softly, smiling a little.

"Sorry." Leon muttered, he chuckled a little. "How did it go?"

"Okay... Don't remember half of it since I wasn't really involved and because I was really tired." You joked, it wasn't a full lie though.

Leon chuckled before he tried to pull you closer. "Leon..." You muttered, knowing what he was trying to do.

"Hmm?" Leon asked innocently.

"Let me finish changing, I'm not sleeping in clothes that smell like gunpowder." You said, smiling a little.

Leon groaned before he just decided to let you go, he didn't lay down like last time though. Once you finished changing, you laid on the bed and drapped the covers over you. It didn't take long for Leon to practically wrap his entire body around you, obviously not wanting you to leave again until you guys woke up the next day.

You giggled before relaxing and falling asleep, Leon followed shortly behind you and fell asleep a few seconds later. You had forgotten to tell Leon in the little bit of time before sleeping that Chris had given the entire BSAA base the rest of the day off, so when he woke up and realized it was 12:18.pm...

"(Y/N)! Get up!" Leon semi-yelled, shaking you a little.

You groaned before sitting up, thinking something bad had happened. "What? What? What?" You replied quickly, confused and alert.

"You're late!" Leon said, he looked a little scared.

"Huh?" You questioned, looking at your phone that you left on the bedside table. You chuckled a little before laying down and facepalming yourself. "I forgot to tell you that I got the day off today." You laughed, feeling like a dumbass.

Leon sighed before laughing with you, laying back down as well. "Must've been too tired." Leon chuckled, ruffling your hair a little.

"Yeah... happens." You shrugged, still smiling.

There was a little bit of silence where the two of you just smiled at each other. Leon had this look in his eyes that was full of admiration and... love? You weren't sure if the look in his eyes were real or if your tired brain was making things up. It wouldn't have been the first time that--

"I love you..." Leon muttered, still smiling at you.

...HOLY SHIT...

Did he just? He did. He said it. You weren't making it up.

Your eyes widened and you felt dumbstruck. He really said it and he didn't even apologize after like how most people do. What the fuck do you say now??

Leon chuckled at your expression, finding it adorable. "What's wrong, honey? Cat got your tongue?" Leon joked, causing your face to turn red.

"Shut up, you jerk." You said, lightly hitting him, making him laugh. "I love you, too, Leon." You finally muttered, catching Leon by surprise a little.

You leaned in and kissed Leon, feeling as if time stopped for a moment. After the kiss, you cuddled. You did miss Leon a lot and with almost nothing but work being on your mind, it felt like you were gone even if you were home and with Leon.

[elizabethplaid]

Moscow was surprisingly tame and sleepy in the midnight hours. I decided to try to sleep "early", at 1am. If not for having to lean over her to turn off the light switch, she would've stayed asleep.

Not long after, she was pawing at shit to wake me up. I looked at the clock: 2:58am. It had barely been 2 hours since I laid down, let alone slept.

Now it's after 4am, and I've locked her out of my room. Took my meds and ate breakfast, so I don't need the cat alarm clock's help.

Bonus bits of news: My neighbors J+S had to put down their dog Carly, who was like 14 years old. Very good dog, had been with them since before their kids were born. (They're the folks who have 5 kids.) They buried her in the woods behind their house on Sunday.

I want to say it was Friday night that we started hearing the coyotes howling, setting off the dogs in the neighborhood. I could tell they were moving around, because the chorus of barking would get louder and softer and louder again.

They were also there Saturday and Sunday night. I liked to imagine that Carly's ghost was chasing them last night, as she was very protective of the family's chickens.

[nightmarevore]

(Not my best or finest work, i just kinda rushed this quickly together, but i hope you like it.)

Rowan: Hey, i came by to check on how things where going.

Baker Friend: Oh, it goes fine. Despite that one's bad review, things seems to go up. Honestly thought they'd come back or something after that verdict.

Rowan: *URP* Yeah, a bit strange. Maybe they changed opinion. What about you? You seem sleepy.

Baker Friend: *Yawns* Yeah, i've been awake for 14 hours and i'm a bit tired.

Rowan: *!!!* *Goes up to her and holds the chubby lady by her shoulders*, you're gonna be fine, this is nothing to worry about.

Baker Friend: Wow, i must have fallen asleep, no way this is real, heh i have a funny story to tell when i wake up.

*LATER*

Luke: YOU ATE HER?!

Rowan: What was i supposed to do?!

Luke: I don't know, what do we do now? She's our friend! How did you even go around without being spotted, she's taller and bigger then the both of us!

Rowan: Well, to be fair, she's fast asleep and thinks this is all a dream, so we can just let her out and act like it never happened.

*LATER AGAIN*

Baker Friend: Morning guys, guess i fell asleep on the floor or something since you brought me here.

Luke: Yup, totally *sweats nervously*

Baker Friend: I had a crazy dream. Rowan went full protective mode because i said i hadn't slept for 14 hours, complete mama bear, and then ate me. Crazy right?

Luke: That sure does sounds crazy. Seriously though, you're allowed to take breaks my friend.

Baker Friend: I know i know. Still, as funny as it sounds, it was actually quite comfortable, in the dream belly i mean. Felt protected and all that. Wouldn't mind dreaming that again. Oh shoot, i'm late, i'll see you guys later! *Goes back to her bakery*

Luke: *Looks at Rowan* She's a good friend, but if we can open up about this to her without loosing our friend in the process, the circle will be complete, and we'll become a trio.

Rowan: For real though, i would kill anyone who breaks that smile.

Luke: Ditto.

This is really cute DJFKGKGKGKGKGK

also she just be a tree. good for her.

[alex-guerin]

Because the fates apparently hate my family, my bro is also staying with me and my mom until he can get enough money saved up to be able to rent a place of his own now that he has a steady, full-time job here in town.

Unfortunately, he and my (our) dad absolutely despise each other. They have NEVER gotten along at all. Like, I can remember being like seven or eight and standing in my bedroom doorway watching in HORROR as they had actual throw downs in the living room, vowing they were going to kill each other (please bear in mind, my bro is 7 years older than me, so this was when he was like 14, 15-ish years old).

Shit went down a few years ago that I'd rather not get into, my dad slugged my bro, bro called the cops on him and had him arrested, and not long after that my bro completely and totally disowned my dad. Wants nothing to do with him. "I wouldn't piss on that man if he were on fire. In fact, I'd fan the flames," is how he put it one time.

Due to the severe cold weather, I foolishly guilted my dad into bringing our other dog (and himself) down to the "new" place (I say new with quotes because we've had it 2.5 years now) where it's warm and safe and I'm not having an absolute panic attack over my 67 year old father and his 12.5 year old bloodhound surviving in a house that needs to be condemned in life threatening cold.

For the last couple of days, things have been okay, I guess. My bro went out Thursday/Friday night to plow snow, was back laaaaaaaaaaaaate late Friday night. Slept all day Saturday, slept a lot of the day Sunday and then went somewhere so he didn't have to be around my dad at all. Came home, slept, and this morning left for work at the repair shop down the street.

I got home from work a little bit ago, and my mom tells me that my dad has once again proven how big of a dick he truly is. That he apparently screamed in my mom's face that if my bro's truck was in the driveway when he got up for work, he was having it towed. That my bro is useless and lazy and "doesn't do a damn thing" around the house, just sleeps all the time, etc. My mom told him no, he wasn’t going to have my bro's truck towed, because SHE told him he could stay here and SHE is the one who lets him sleep because he needs the sleep, he's been so many years working so many odd jobs that didn't have set hours, he needs to try and get his sleep schedule straightened out. So no, my dad was NOT going to have his truck towed. To which my dad snapped back, "Just you watch me! If it's in the driveway! It's getting fucking towed!"

So my mom texted my bro and told him to park on the street. Not ideal, but it's not in the driveway, so. I told her that yeah, besides, I pay half the mortgage on the house. He wants to play that game, fine, I'm also the co-signer on HIS car, I'll call and have HIS car towed and I WON'T help him get it back out. (Of course, this was replied with, "No you WILL NOT!")

I just...I HATE how fucking TOXIC my family is!! It has always been this way. My dad always always always fought with my bro and sister. My sister fought with anyone she could, and if she wasn't fighting them, she was manipulating them to get what she wanted. She also repeatedly tried to straight up kill me when we were kids (not just the usual sibling rivalry, pick fights with someone smaller than them kind of deal, I'm talking shoved me down stairs, tried to strangle me, would put pillow cases over my head etc).

The amount of emotional and psychological and occasional physical abuse I have been through because of them is ridiculous. It's really no wonder I really don't want to deal with confrontation, but if you back me into a corner, I will come out kicking, screaming, biting, and clawing to get away.

I am deeply regretting being a good child and telling my folks I'd move back in with them to help pay for the new place. I really do. I was out on my own for like 3 years, and it was amazing! I was finally starting to heal and recover...now I'm right back at square one all because I didn't want my parents living in a deathtrap of a house. I sit upstairs in my bedroom, either playing on my phone or playing Sims. I rarely sit out in my own living room because it opens down into their living room, so I can't watch anything on my TV or play games without it interrupting whatever they are watching downstairs. It is an absolute shit position I have put myself in all because I am a good person and want to help my family in any way I can.

[honmyoseagull]

WHUMPTOBER 2023 MASTERLIST

DARK REIGN BULLSNIKT: HISTORY OF A RELATIONSHIP FROM BEGINNING TO END. (INDIVIDUAL LINKS TO AO3 IN THE TITLES)

PART 1, prompts 1 to 8

SHOCK VALUE

The courtship started in an explosive way. Then comes the first date. Obviously, this is Daken and Bullseye, so don't expect rainbow and roses. More like torture and constant denial. And maybe the tiniest bit of longing.

No. 1: Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

No. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.” Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.” “Make it stop.”

No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.” Shock | “You in there?”

No. 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.” Debris | Pinned Down | “It's broken.”

No. 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.” Made to Watch | “It should have been me.”

No. 7: " “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.” Radio Silence |

No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.” Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered

PART 2, prompts 9 to 16

NOTHING PERSONAL

Fighting together (or against each other) is easy. Fucking, they learn to manage. Kinda. Since this is Daken and Bullseye we're talking about, they're rubbish at dealing with their feelings, though. And the more they run from them, the more it hurts. Literally. Also, it wasn't what they had planned with their day, this 'Meet the Family' thing.

No. 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.” Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.”

No. 10: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?” Broken Phone | Stranded | “You said you'd never leave.”

No. 11: Animal trap | Captivity | “No one will find you.”

No. 12: “I haven't slept in days but who's counting?” Red | Insomnia | “I’m up, I’m up.”

No. 13: Cold Compress | Infection | “I don’t feel so good.”

No. 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.” Water Inhalation | “Just hold on.”

No. 15: Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

No. 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?” Gurney | Flatline

PART 3, prompts 17 to 24

FOR OLD TIME'S SAKE

A learning curve. Dealing with blasts of the past. Blasting the past. Again. Learning to be two. They are who they are, they work (mostly) and they rock. (Even if the ground they tango on is rocky.) Now, if ghosts could stop crawling out of the woodwork, that would be nice.

No. 17: “You’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest.” Touch Aversion | “Leave me alone.”

No. 18: “Hit them harder.”

No. 19: Floral Bouquet (of tea (a)) | Psychological | “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

No. 20: Blanket | Found Family | “You will regret touching them.”

No. 21: “See the chains around my feet.” Restraints

No. 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.” Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | “Watch out!”

No. 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.” Shadows | Stalking | “Who’s there?”

No. 24: “I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule.” Goodbye Note | Neglect | “I thought they were with you.”

PART 4, prompts 25 to 31

BREAKING EVEN

They need each other more than ever. Are ready to give and take more than ever. And yet, they still crack at the seams.

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.” Storm | Buried Alive | “They’re not breathing!”

No. 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.” Seeing Double | Working To Exhaustion | “You look awful.”

No. 27: Matches | Scars | “Let me see”

No. 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.” Bloody Knife | Sacrifice | “You'll have to go through me.”

No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.” Scented Candle | “What happened to me?”

No. 30: “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay’.” Borrowed Clothing | Bridal Carry |

No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.” Emptiness | “Take it easy.”

(Fifth fic about Mourning the relationship based on the alternate prompts will be done when it will be done ^^;; Gimme a break. No, not bones.)

[manyfucks]

14. which of your muses second guesses themselves the most? why? and 15. do any of your muses have trouble falling asleep / staying asleep? <333

multimuse meme - accepting. do any of your muses have trouble falling asleep / staying asleep?

muses who can't sleep + why sweeney todd, grief tyrion lannister, fate of the realm and alcohol kathryn janeway, duty, also probably had too much caffeine kim wexler, too much work not enough time malcolm tucker, has whatever brain rot thatcher had that meant she only slept 4 hours eve of eden, she spents 2 hours staring at the ceiling, thinkin house, he's solving it (the universe) muses who sleep well hilda spellman, honk shoo mimimimi robert dubois, he has one really inconvenient nightmare every now and again marcellus wallace, he's busy and needs his sleep datak tarr, he ruined your family and he sleeps like a baby. hogs the bed charles xavier, mostly gertrude robinson, starts dreaming to solve more cases madame thenardier, passed out drunk and very tired from madaming andromeda tonks, passed out drunk and very tired from raising her grandson grunkle stan, sleeps & dreams of money mimimimimuses who don't sleep - lilith, archaic demon who doesnt sleep - seven of nine, alien tech puts her in 'regeneration cycle' - alfie solomons, too much redbull, he will never sleep again

which of your muses second guesses themselves the most? why?

i am starting to realise that my muses are not generally 'second-guessing' types. most of them are ego-maniacs and completely devoted to their own goals, whatever those may be. under the cut because this got long!

i have a genre of character who second-guess their perceptions often - alfie solomons second guesses what he knows constantly because he's brilliant but paranoid, and is not afraid to change allegiances or flip the world on its head. but he does not doubt himself. house fluctuates between self-loathing and arrogance/hubris, but he does not doubt his mind. lilith doubts the reality of what she can impose (specifically when she is under the yolk of the dark lord), but she is dogged and determined to the very end. tyrion lannister similarly can doubt the things he thought were certain, so that he can see more clearly. of the characters listed, he is the one who doubts himself the most, out of resentment that was once from others, and is now in him. kim wexler has a crisis of confidence in who she has become, but when she figures out what the right thing to do, she pursues that no matter any consequences also. to compare her to someone else who goes through a similar experience but for the worse, sweeney todd was a fairly unassuming, sweet person - a traumatic event unmoors him from his life, and he commits wholly to a new life (over a period of time) that he cannot be dissuaded from. any of the complicated feelings of grief, he can sublimate into rage and revenge. the effect it takes on him, hollowing him out, is the same - but he does everything he can to avoid dealing with the tragic, mature feelings that will make him feel uncertain. instead he becomes extremely certain: the world has been bad, and now he will do as the world showed him. people who doubt themselves the most would be: robert dubois: he has been a man with a single purpose all of his life, and now that this is complicated by prison, and by being a father, he finds himself increasingly unsure of what he should do. most of his mission in TSS he spends, half-in and half-out, doubting if he is only a man like his father, or if he can be more, and better. in fact, he's certain of it - his self-doubt is a softening of his idea that he is hopelessly destructive, a cruelty to others lest they try to visit cruelty upon him. i think upon arriving back to america, he would be emboldened enough to try to take on the task of being a good father like he never had, something he actively pushed away for fear of how hopeless it felt.

eve of eden: eve's entire story is about doubt. doubting god, doubting the world, doubting herself. she's been given everything - almost. that last inch of unexplored land festers away at her. i don't think she was easily led (though that was a part of it) i think she was someone who could not help but pull at threads. if the seams of the world come undone, that's a tragedy. but she'd do it again. as i write her (my canon for her is that she and adam are undying and forever roam the earth, even though their children age and die) she is extremely self-doubting, fighting her urge to pick at things with the knowledge that she has ruined things by doing so. she fights her instinct at every turn, and it is this self-denial that contributes to her misery. because, inevitably, she will one day pull at the string again. she will one day see the serpent's bounty and respond without words, respond by wanting to bite into it.

seven of nine is reckoning with having individuality, when this has never before been the case. she's a mess of self-doubt. she's going between the values and way of being she has always known to something more 'flawed'. while she can be incredibly sure of her actions, she has never had that same security in herself as an individual. it comes slowly over a few years, and continues after voyager. once voyager lands, i think seven is truly feeling alone - voyager was a small community of people who absolutely relied upon and needed one another, with a written code of behaviour. the real world would challenge her even more, but i see her eventually buildiing up confidence once again - she remains as someone who is self-doubting, because that is part of the nature of humanity as she has learned it.

kathryn janeway is someone who has taken on the role of a captain fulltime, navigating her crew for seven years through drama and alien hjinks. she has a few breakdowns adn bouts of depressions, exacerbated by self douubt because she simply has taken on too much. usually she is incredibly confident and driven, but the souls of her crew weigh heavily on her - constantly, and without breaks. she makes friends with people around her, she has romantic interests in people off of the ship, but her ideas about authority isolate her from others. she is a Doubter, she doubts if she's good enough for the impossible task put to her.

charles xavier is someone who has a relationship with doubt a little similar to kathryn janeway - he worries if he is good enough to lead mutants. but, he has a strong idea of what mutants should be, formed in opposition to what magneto believes. he is someone with a healthier relationship to self-doubt. while it bites at him, he can see the joy and bittersweet experience of seeing something come to pass that confounds him, or someone showing a new side to themself that he feels he 'should' have caught. he is confident, but he is able to examine himself and his place in relations to others critically, and grow with circumstances.

some of my most confident muses are: malcolm tucker is someone who lunges at his next move with infamous ferocity. but in his final moment, he sees stops talking, the very thing thaht has kept him in power for so long, always moving to the next disaster to prevent or manage into subission and irrelevance. i think his last line is him giving up on it all, truly retiring - but while it's painful, it's not because of disillusionment. he never felt politics was anything but a vicious game to maybe have some good effects through harsh toil. he just knows he will no longer be a part of it. aunt hilda: hilda doubts her place often, but she's got a palpable determination. when lifes trials (mainly zelda) kill her and stick her in the cain pit, she crawls out every time. things don't often go right for hilda, but when they go wrong, she digs her heels in harder to doing what's good for her. the chuurch excommunicates her? ok! she'll go get that job she wanted. the high priest inappropriately propositions her? ok she killed him. in a crisis, hilda never doubts herself, even if she seems a little fragile or gentle in her demeanour.

[inkforhumanhands]

Rules: List your WIPs below (if you only write one fic at a time, feel free to include future WIPs/ideas!) then answer the following questions. Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs (or more).

1. WIP List:

Epistaxis Anime

Out of the Darkness, Into the Limelight

A Gentleman Caller

MikeFoggy fake dating

Bloom (I Had a Dream About You) mattfoggy pwp

Don't Give Yourself This Excuse

Saint Anthony helps Matt find kidnapped Foggy fic

Foggy Nelson, Super Sleuth!

s2 Karen thinks mattfoggy breakup is romantic and not DD fuckery

Foggy and Karen go to witch to resurrect Matt post-Midland Circle

s3 alcoholic Foggy angst

v1 Matt dates Daredevil

His Wife Has Filled His House With Chintz

v2 Matt has sex dreams about Foggy while he's in witpro

v3 Ben Urich plays mattfoggy matchmaker

v4 Foggy cancer arc getting jealous that Matt gets to go places with Kirsten in public

v5 purple children mind wipe happens while Matt and Foggy are dating

v6 Matt hasn't slept with Foggy because of his tendency to go all in on relationships

v7 Goldy threatening Foggy and Matt going apeshit

Guesswork (the OC fic)

The Good One (the OC oneshot)

Hannigram obsession fic

Matthias & Maxime prequel

2. Which of your WIPs is currently the longest?

Epistaxis Anime at almost 27k

3. Which WIP do you expect will end up the longest?

Probably EA but Guesswork is already at 12k and I'm not 100% sure where it's going to end up. Also Limelight was originally planned to clock in at 20k but chapter 1 is already like 8k so....... we'll see.

4. Which WIP is your favourite to write/the most enjoyable to write? Why?

This rotates lmao which is probably why I never seem to finish anything adfsdf. I have a lot of fun with many of these but especially (in no particular order): MikeFoggy fake dating, Gentleman Caller, Limelight, Chintz, EA, and Guesswork

5. Which WIP do you find the most intimidating to write? Why?

This also rotates and is mostly because if I start writing something too well I feel pressure to keep it up. Right now on my list of "omg what will i do if i fuck this up" fics are Chintz, Limelight, and mikefoggy.

6. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

Again, this rotates!! I am struck by crippling self-doubt about like every 500 words (at least) of any WIP.

7. Which of your WIPs will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? Why?

I asked the lovely @iheartallthethings to give Guesswork chapter 2 a quick read-over because I've never actually been to a bar mitzvah and she was very helpful!

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of writer's block?

HAHAHAHAHAHA DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT SUPER SLEUTH

9. Which WIP has your favourite OC? Tell us about them?

If Saint Anthony counts as an OC then him lmao. I only have like 500 words of him but he's great.

10. Which WIP is the sexiest?

Chintz!

11. Which WIP is the angstiest?

Don't Give Yourself This Excuse. It's literally suicidal!Matt so. boom.

12. Which WIP has the best characterisation (in your humble opinion)?

Either Guesswork or Limelight probably.

13. Which WIP has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

I'm pretty partial to the opening scenes in Limelight and Gentleman Caller, but also the opening to Chintz is gonna knock all your socks off!

14. Which WIP have you worked the hardest on?

Ooh, difficult to say. I've definitely put a lot of hours into EA but probably Guesswork or Limelight. I rewrote parts of Guesswork chapter 2 like five times and it was awful lol.

15. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for? Why?

Limelight because I love the movie it's based on and if I can capture even a quarter of that magic it's gonna be fantastic.

16. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

Nope, my dreams don't usually go where I'd like them to.

17. Do any of your WIPs have particular complexities that your other fics don't?

Guesswork because it's sensitive subject matter (lingering trauma) seen through the lens of a character who hasn't experienced it himself and therefore doesn't understand it/keeps fucking up because of it.

18. Which WIP is the funniest or has the most humour?

mikefoggy and Gentleman Caller, although Limelight is also pretty funny in parts. oh and EA is delightful if I do say so myself.

19. Do any of your WIPs contain outside POVs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? How are you finding that process?

Saint Anthony is an outside POV (partially anyway, it alternates between him and Matt) and it's fun to see things through the eyes of someone who has much less stake in what's happening while Matt's tearing New York apart.

20. Tell us one thing we don't know about one or more of your WIPs.

Don't Give Yourself This Excuse's title and idea were taken from Peaky Blinders. Tommy's sister Ada tells him that after some kids were blown up in a bomb meant for him and his enterprise and she's afraid he'll act on his suicidal tendencies because of it.

oopsies almost forgot to tag people: @amazing-spiderling @pomegranate-belle @udekai @stripedscribe @neonbrutalism and alll the people i definitely 100% forgot

[gettingjiggly]

Doctor's Orders Pt 1

I had been seeing Dr. Sisemor for most of my adult life, in fact she has known me since I was in high school when I first started putting on weight. It's been years since then and I am still toying around with weight gain. Feeding and stuffing myself until I feel like I'm going to tear at the seams, even a few little stretch marks here and there. But I have also tried to keep it within reason. That all changed over the course of a few weeks.

You see, I had recently sprained my ankle in a soccer game when I stepped on the ball and my chubby little butt flew into the air and bounced down, everyone laughing. At first the embarrassment hurt a little, but later I found myself kinda turned on that everyone laughed at me. Anyways, I had to go to the clinic and get it checked out. Dr. Pheobe Sisemor looked as attractive as ever. She always knew how to keep it professional but still make your imagination go wild. And I never could figure out if she ever wore a bra. She had to be pushing 40 years old now but looked at least 10 years younger than that.

"Well, I haven't seen you in awhile." She smiled very friendly almost like she had been expecting me. "Let's take a look at that ankle. But first things first." She pointed me toward the scale and I stepped on, making a sudden loud 'Ka-Chunk' noise. "Looks like someone has been building some muscle mass," she continued smiling and sliding the large weights over, "and maybe more than that." She always liked teasing me whenever I put on a few extra pounds. "165. Let's get a few measurements, so we can get an accurate bmi reading." She pulled out a soft silky tailor's measuring tool and said, "Alright then, off with the shirt. Can't get a good measurement with that on!"

The feeling of the cool silky measuring tape going over the curves of my body tickled but felt so good. I couldn't help but think she was doing it on purpose. "Looks like you're getting a bit chubby. I thought last time you were here we agreed you would try to get in shape again?" We had agreed on that. And I had binged eaten my way two sizes larger since then. Somehow I felt like she knew that and could see right through my excuses.

"You know," she said as she locked the examination room door making sure we were completely alone. "If I had known you wanted to be fat, I wouldn't have wasted all this time giving you advice on how to lose weight." I could feel my face starting to blush. "If I had known you wanted to be a fat pig, then I would have given you these instead." She opened her purse and pulled out a bottle like prescription medicine but there was no label on it. "I don't want to ruin the surprise for you but trust me, if you enjoy putting pounds on, you'll love these."

I examined the bottle, 14 pills. "One a day, see me in two weeks. Oh and stay off that leg for awhile, the ankle needs time to heal." I limped out of the room and just as I walked out the door she gave me one last little pinch on my side as I walked by. It gave me goosebumps, and I turned to see her shoot me a fast wink right before leaving to the next patient.

I went home, took one of the pills and drank a glass of water. The medicine made the water taste really good. That was kind of a cool side effect I thought. I drank another glass, mmmm, and another glass. Finally I decided to pour myself a glass of milk and chugged it down. It was unlike anything I had ever tasted, but I was feeling very tired and decided to lay down for a nap.

I slept for 7 hours, and woke up at nearly midnight! I felt tired still and groggy but my first thought was, "oh no I slept through dinner. I better eat something before I fall back asleep." I opened the fridge and started tasting everything. It didn't matter what I took a bite of, it was so good! I headed back to bed after what felt like only a short while but as I flopped on the bed I saw the clock on the nightstand said 2am. "I must be really tired." I thought to myself, "I can't even keep track of time and my whole body feels lethargic."

I woke up a little after 11am the next day, still tired and very hungry. I walked to the bathroom and stepped on the scale, still rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "196.2." Huh? No way. I stepped off and stepped on again. "196.8." I looked up in the mirror and my face was huge, my arms and hands, the definition was gone and it was all covered in soft smooth squishy fat. What has she done to me? I called Dr. Sisemor's office and stood staring at myself in the mirror while I waited for her to pick up the phone.

"What are these things?" I blurted out as soon as I heard her voice. "Mmmhmm," she laughed "You like that don't you?"

I mean I didn't, not like it. But still what the hell.

"I tried to keep you in shape, but you couldn't help yourself. You're just a fat pig aren't you? You've always wanted to be a fat pig, so I just gave you something to help you along."

I don't know why but the words coming from her mouth were shocking and yet oh so arousing at the same time. I couldn't do anything I just stood there and listening to what she would say next.

"You need to finish up that bottle, like a good pig. 13 days left. Then and only then will I give you something to reverse the effect. I took the liberty of sending over a feeding nurse to help you so you won't have to get out of bed. Just keep those pills nearby and get plenty of rest."

After she hung up the phone I realized my ankle was extremely painful under the weight I had gained from last night. I laid down on the bed and fell asleep, not waking until I heard the doorbell.

I tried to jump up out of bed but I just sat halfway up and fell back against my pillow again. What the hell? I tried again, and fail. So I scooched to the edge of the bed, and painfully limped to the door, greeting a nice young nurse by the name of Celeste. She helped me get back to my bed and said, "Don't worry I'm on doctor's orders to bring you anything you want!"

[running-in-the-dark]

I've got an appointment with my psychiatrist/neurologist tomorrow and I think I'm going to mention all my weird sleep issues. I've had multiple people tell me it kind of sounds like narcolepsy, and then a few days ago I listened to a podcast episode where someone talked about their sleep issues - they sounded exactly like mine, and the story ended with them being diagnosed with narcolepsy 😬😬

I'm really nervous about bringing it up (because how could I have something relatively rare, I just can't sleep, that's perfectly normal right 😬😬) but I'll try (I won't say 'hi I think I have narcolepsy', I'll just explain the symptoms I have).

Just to sum it up for myself, here's a list of my sleep issues:

without the antidepressant I'm currently on that makes me sleepy, I wasn't able to fall asleep. it's always been hard but for about 6 months before the meds, it took me 1-4 hours to fall asleep every night (sometimes I just couldn't fall asleep at night at all)

... and I'd also wake up at least three times a night

I'm always tired/exhausted - I need at least 9-10 hours of sleep to feel slightly rested, but I could basically sleep all day and still feel tired (I do regularly sleep 12-14 hours, and usually sleep through any alarms I set too)

I have very vivid/real-feeling nightmares that often wake me up (that's much worse now with my meds)

I get sleep paralysis somewhat regularly (also worse with the meds), and now usually feel like my whole body is shaking when it happens too.

when I'm half asleep I often can't tell if something really happened or if it was a dream. I wouldn't call it a hallucination, I think? though sometimes when I fully wake up later I'll ask my husband if he came into the room and said a specific thing earlier and he usually says no, but I know I was awake when that 'happened', so. who knows.

if I'm sitting down and not actively doing something, it's pretty likely I'll fall asleep (like when I'm watching TV, reading, listening to an audiobook, in the car as a passenger etc.) - but it doesn't happen if I'm the one driving or anything that means I'm really alert/tense/active like that

I've fallen asleep in class/similar situations many times, but I think that's normal? like, that feeling of trying really hard to stay awake and focus because you can tell you're getting very very sleepy and it takes like a few minutes but eventually I just doze off (for a few seconds I think? obviously I can't tell because I'm not awake...)

that happened very frequently when I did my apprenticeship (it was awful - I'd be entering client's receipts and fall asleep over and over again while doing it. it was a problem because obviously I made some pretty big mistakes and people weren't happy...) - that was when I slept about 12 hours a night because I was too tired to stay awake once I came home from work.

I've fallen asleep in the cinema several times too (usually during movies I was really excited to see)

I dream even when I only sleep a few minutes. like if I fall asleep on the couch for five minutes I'll still dream. apparently that's not normal?

also if I'm watching something, for example, I'll fall asleep over and over and over again, each time for a few minutes. then I wake up, rewind what I was watching, and immediately fall asleep again. that goes on for hours sometimes and it's very frustrating because I try so hard to stay awake.

I don't know what this is exactly, but it sounds a little bit like very mild cataplexy... I think? sometimes I'll just suddenly be really really weak like my muscles aren't working. I can't grip/hold anything, can't lift my arms or legs, can't move/hold up my head (it feels too heavy), can barely speak, and just have to stay sitting/lying down like that until it passes. but I can't remember if that was because of intense emotions or anything like that because I had no idea that could be related. I think it does often happen when I'm really scared/anxious but I think that's just because that's exhausting?

my hands especially do often stop working right when I'm really stressed/overwhelmed. like I can't grip anything/use them properly. it's especially bad when someone is watching me write/do anything else with my hands - I get so anxious that my hands don't work right. and my knees/legs go really weak when I'm standing and I get very anxious (like during a presentation). but that's just anxiety I think?

I did fall to the floor when someone scared me once because my legs gave in, but that was like 20 years ago so it probably doesn't count (and isn't that normal anyway?). though, now that I'm thinking about it... that has actually happened at least twice after that 🤔 (my nephew scared me once, my legs gave in so I fell down, and he did it again another time because he thought it was funny)

oh yeah and I was so scared during my driving test that my legs stopped working and starting shaking uncontrollably while I was trying to park, so I had to wait a minute or more until it passed

okay I just googled what cataplexy really feels like because I just don't understand it at all, and apparently going super weak from laughing really hard isn't normal?! that can't be right. that happens to everyone, doesn't it? like when you laugh really really hard and your arms are like giant useless noodles? (that actually sums up that muscle weakness that I get pretty well: my limbs are like floppy noodles that I can only sort of control)

(I've seen several people give tickling as an example now.. but everyone goes completely limp when they're being tickled right?? like no one can move in that situation right?? lol this list is so stupidly long now that no one will get to this point but if you do, please tell me if that's normal or not.)

I don't know. It's probably nothing. Or maybe it's something else, like sleep apnea? Or I'm just overly sensitive or whatever.

I usually just put all of this weirdness down to 'oh my brain is just being weird again'. But I guess it can't hurt to at least mention it? 😬 It seems like a long list when I actually write it down but I tend to exaggerate things, probably? I guess most of this is normal anyway, so I'm sure it's nothing. But it is very annoying either way so I will at least mention it once.

[theresthesnitch]

I posted 4,523 times in 2022

That's 1,574 more posts than 2021!

1,544 posts created (34%)

2,979 posts reblogged (66%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@theresthesnitch

@elder-millennial-trash

@squintclover

@impishtubist

@krethes

I tagged 3,356 of my posts in 2022

Only 26% of my posts had no tags

#snitch answers asks - 1,033 posts

#wolfstar - 473 posts

#snitchwrites - 323 posts

#remus lupin - 239 posts

#sirius black - 229 posts

#ignite - 219 posts

#jily - 213 posts

#fic rec - 168 posts

#james potter - 159 posts

#shameless reblog - 144 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#james potter is the kind of boy who brings you a box of banana muffin mix because he remebers that one time you gave him a bite of one

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

(a little something for Sirius and Harry Saturday that I decided was too long for @impishtubist's askbox...)

When Sirius moved in with the Potters, things were not just suddenly okay. Sirius acted out a lot. Testing boundaries, sure, but he also thought that they would eventually kick him out too, because if even his parents didn't love him enough to keep him, then why would the Potters?

Only, Euphemia and Fleamont were not Walburga and Orion. They responded to each outburst with kindness and love. They set reasonable boundaries and had reasonable expectations. Every time Sirius did something else to break those boundaries and force them to finally punish him, Euphemia would look at him and say, "I love you, but I don't love the way you are acting right now."

One night, Sirius came home, hours after abandoning James in some muggle neighborhood, drunk and high. Euphemia stayed with him until he sobered up, even though he slept through most of it.

When he woke up, she was sitting in a chair next to his bed, knitting. She saw he was awake, and proceeded to tell him that she loved him, unconditionally, and that she was worried about him. She promised to always be there for him, even when he scared her the way he did the night before.

Sirius had never had anyone worry for him before. He hadn't thought that what he was doing would scare her. He never again disappeared like that, or came back quite that out of it.

(She knit a sweater that night, which Sirius wore nearly constantly until he wore it to rags. She knit him another to replace it.)

When Harry came to live with Sirius and Remus after POA, he was overly well behaved at the beginning. Sirius and Remus had to convince him that he didn't have to wake up early to make them breakfast, he didn't have to sweep and mop and wipe down the counters and the toilets every night, and he did not have to stay out of the way so he was neither seen nor heard. It took a while, and the sacrifice of every single piece of the Black Family fine china launched at the hideous Black Family Tree tapestry, but they finally convinced Harry that it was alright to be a teenager.

With the new freedom, Harry rebelled.

It was small things, at first. Testing boundaries. When he found lines to cross, he did, and Sirius watched as Harry braced for whatever punishment he had been conditioned to expect. It never came, and every time, when Harry relaxed again, Sirius watched the confusion and awe on his face, and wondered whether Euphemia saw the same mix of emotions on his own face.

Remus didn't get it–why Harry lashed out at them. He couldn't get it; not really. His parents weren't perfect, but they loved him.

Sirius got it, though. He understood the absolute disbelief that someone could love you as you were, unconditionally. So every time Harry yelled at them, or broke something, or slammed his door so hard that the entire house groaned under it, Sirius thought of Euphemia and her kind smile and her kinder words.

I love you, but I don't love how you're acting right now.

392 notes - Posted May 14, 2022

#4

Imagine Professor Remus J. Lupin showing up to Hogwarts the first week of September 1993, and all the professors are going on about the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lupin assures them that the chamber does not exist because TRUST HIM they would have found it (with a wink and a smirk to the professors who knew him back then).

Professor McGonagall sits him down one evening with a cup of tea spiked with a little fire whiskey, and proceeds to absolutely blow Remus's mind about the way that little Harry Potter beat all of the Marauder's accomplishments by the end of his second year.

419 notes - Posted July 15, 2022

#3

Wolfstar raising Harry snippet

This is from the fic that I'm writing (sloooooowly) in order to make @impishtubist cry. This is from the first night with Harry living with Sirius.

“Keep calling me old, Remus, and I’ll tell him about how you started getting grey hairs at 15.” Sirius tried to make his voice sound threatening, but he was just too content with the two of them to pull it off.

Remus rolled his eyes and waived his wand to send the dishes to the sink. “I’m a werewolf. We age prematurely due to–” 

“–due to your condition, yes, I know your excuses.” Sirius finished for him. 

Remus raised an eyebrow. “I was going to say due to the fact that I had to deal with you and James.” 

“Oh Merlin,” Harry said as he stood up and moved to the sink. “With both of those, I’m surprised you have any brown hair left.” 

Remus and Sirius both laughed, caught a bit off guard by how much the joke sounded like James. The laughter died off when Harry started filling the sink with water. 

“Haz, what are you doing?” Sirius asked. 

Harry didn’t even look over his shoulder. Instead, his head was under the sink, digging for something. “The dishes. Where’s the soap?”

“I don’t have any, and you don’t need to do the dishes.” 

Harry turned around, brow furrowed. “You don’t have soap? How do you get the dishes clean?”

Remus raised his wand and pointed it at the sink. Immediately it filled with sudzy water, and the dishes began scrubbing themselves. “Did you forget we were wizards, Harry?”

Harry looked dumbly at the sink before moving back to the table. “I guess I didn’t think of it. I’ve always done them by hand.” 

“Your mum did that too, I remember.” Sirius said. “Said she never liked the way the charm got them clean.” 

“Do you remember when James cleaned them with the charm without telling her, and she made him pull them all back out of the cabinets to redo it?” Remus laughed. 

“She was so mad.” Sirius leaned back laughing. “He knew she didn’t like it, but didn’t think she could actually tell the difference, and he wanted to go out to play pick-up quidditch”

“She got mad at him for how he cleaned the dishes?” Harry looked confused. 

“Not like mad, mad.” Remus said. “She helped him redo them, and in the end, I think they ended up–” Remus cut off short, eyes going wide as he looked at Sirius.

Harry looked between them. “Ended up what?” 

Sirius smirked. “Dancing. In the kitchen together.” 

Harry smiled, leaning on his hand. “That’s sweet.” Remus snorted, but he managed to hide it behind a cough.

“They were always like that.” Sirius smiled fondly at the memory of them. “They would bicker and banter, and then suddenly they’d be so wrapped up in each other that you couldn’t tell where one stopped and the other started.”

445 notes - Posted July 21, 2022

#2

Okay, but now I'm picturing a gossipy Voldemort keeping up to date on all the goings ons.

"He married the mudblood? Absolute waste of a pureblood. He was good looking too. Could have had any pureblood girl he wanted, probably. No, not your wife Lucius, but he's very good looking, you can't deny that."

"I can't believe they're together. Shacking up with a half-blood, half-breed. My, how the House of Black has fallen. Orion, how shameful for you."

"Molly Weasley is pregnant again? Didn't she just have twins? Are they trying to get enough kids to have a quidditch team or something? How funny would it be if the next one is a girl? Yes, Bella, I know that girls can play quidditch too, but not well."

"Did you see the robes that Dumbledore was wearing on that last raid? Magenta is not your color, Alby. Someone should really tell him."

670 notes - Posted July 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I have a *thing* for Wolfstar fics when Remus thinks Sirius isn't going to stick with him because he's not good enough for Sirius, then it flips to Sirius's POV and he's tripping over his own feet because he's just so into Remus he can't think straight.

1,073 notes - Posted March 13, 2022

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