#amaia pack

[pupsmailbox]

DOLL︰PUPPET ID PACK

NAMES︰ abbie. adelaide. adorablesse. adorablette. aerlyn. alena. alexis. alice. amaia. amaya. andrea. angeline. ankou. annabelle. annie. antoinette. anxiette. anxious. apricot. asaka. ash. asha. aspen. atticus. ava. avel. babette. babydoll. bambi. bambina. bambino. bashfelle. bashful. beau. bellamy. belle. bells. bernadette. blu. blue. bluesse. bluette. blushe. blushesse. blushette. boo. bram. bronach. bronagh. brone. button. buttons. cadel. candace. carmilla. carrie. catherine. cessair. charlie. charlott. charlotte. chelsea. chia. chica. chirella. chirelle. chiwa. chuckie. claeg. coffin. colere. commedia. constance. coquette. cordelia. corelle. corette. corsette. cypress. dahlia. dalia. damon. darling. dawn. dearesse. dearest. dearette. dearie. deidre. demure. desdemona. devin. devon. doilie. doily. doll. dollaintye. dollawie. dollerie. dollesse. dollette. dolleyed. dollie. dolline. dollita. dolly. dolores. dottie. drea. dread. drusilla. dáinn. eeria. eldritche. elissar. eliza. elle. elodie. eloise. emerence. emily. essie. esther. evangela. evangeline. evelyn. eveyln. faith. frill. frillette. genevieve. genoveva. gia. gladys. glorie. glory. gorey. gorie. gracelyn. gregory. gretta. gwen. gwenivive. haldor. haunt. hiccup. hyde. iraia. iresse. irette. itishree. jabez. janelle. janet. jannet. jinx. josie. julie. juniper. juno. kailey. kanani. kewpie. kiva. krak. lace. lacesse. lacette. lacey. lacie. lain. laintess. lakka. lalki. lavender. lea. lefu. letta. letum. libitina. lilac. lillith. lilly. lily. loaela. lola. lolah. loletta. lolita. lolite. lolla. lottie. lovelace. luci. lucius. lulu. lute. lyla. lys. madison. mahina. mandy. mannie. manon. many. mara. maria. marianette. marie. marion. marionette. marionne. marotte. marrionette. marrow. mary. maryjane. marzana. maveth. meek. melanie. melodie. melody. merripen. miel. minuette. mold. moldie. moldy. molly. moonie. moore. morana. morgana. morgue. mors. mort. mot. muriel. murmur. muse. nadine. nadzen. nancy. nanea. nanelle. nanette. nappi. naz. negan. nekane. nelly. nemesis. nettie. nicodème. niegan. nimbus. nina. nuri. olive. oliver. olivia. omega. panchaali. parner. pinkesse. pinkette. pinkie. pinky. pinocchio. pippin. poe. poppet. poppette. poppy. porce. porcelain. porcelynn. prantika. pulau. punthali. pupetta. puppet. puppetear. puppetesse. puppetette. puppette. puppyte. putala. quinn. ravanche. raven. realiteer. rebel. ribbon. ribbonne. riley. rion. robert. rose. rubella. ruby. sacrifette. salem. sasha. satin. scarlet. sebastian. sew. sewine. shivani. shiver. sidney. smierc. smiley. smilie. softesse. softette. softie. solikha. spirit. sprout. statuette. stitches. strings. sweeheart. sweetheart. sweetie. sweetiebelle. sweetine. sychar. teacup. tearie. teddy. tempest. thalia. than. thana. theodora. thorn. trembelle. trista. ultima. ulysses. vanessa. vera. viola. visage. whisp. whisper. willow. winston. wisp. wispera. wrathes. zizi.

PRONOUNS︰ adorable/adorable. ae/aer. angel/angel. anger/anger. antique/antique. app/apparition. bell/bell. berry/berry. berserk/berserk. bjd/bjd. bla/black. blank/blank. bliding/bliding. blue/blue. blush/blush. bug/bug. button/button. cake/cake. car/carcasse. cheer/cheer. cloth/cloth. coffin/coffin. control/control. coo/croon. cor/cor. cor/corrupt. core/core. corpse/corpse. coy/coy. crack/cracked. cracked/cracked. cre/creepy. creep/creepy. cu/curse. cu/cute. curse/curse. cute/cute. da/dark. de4/de4d. de/dear. de/demure. dea/dead. dead/dead. dead/death. dear/dear. death/death. decay/decay. delica/delicate. delicate/delicate. demon/demon. despair/despair. dirt/dirty. do/doll. doll/doll. doll/dolly. dolly/dolly. dread/dread. dress/dressup. dress/up. d♡ll/d♡ll. eer/eeerie. elegant/elegant. en/energy. end/end. evil/evil. eye/eye. fabric/fabric. fae/fae. fi/figure. fig/figure. figurine/figurine. flower/flower. fragile/fragile. frail/frail. friendly/friendly. frill/frill. fury/fury. gho/ghost. glass/glass. glo/gloomy. gore/gore. grave/grave. grief/grief. grim/grimm. grime/grime. gru/grudge. ha/haunt. happy/happy. haun/haunt. hx/hxm. h♡/h♡m. it/it. joint/joint. joint/jointed. joy/joy. ke/ker. kew/kewpie. kill/kill. kor/kor. kor/korrupt. la/lace. lace/lace. lae/lace. lo/love. lo/loved. lolita/lolita. love/love. mad/mad. mae/mae. mari/marionette. marionette/marionette. me/meek. mi/mier. mim/mimic. model/model. morbid/morbid. mu/mutter. mur/murmur. nap/nap. null/null. ny/nym. patch/patch. phan/phantom. pink/pink. pitter/patter. plastic/plastic. play/play. play/playtime. play/time. plush/plush. plush/plushie. por/porcelain. porce/porcelain. porcel/porcelain. porcela/porcelain. porcelain/porcelain. pose/pose. pose/posed. possess/possessed. pup/puppet. puppet/puppet. rea/reality. rest/rest. reven/revenge. rib/ribbon. ribbon/ribbon. rot/rot. scare/scare. scary/scary. seem/seem. sew/sew. sew/sewn. shi/shift. shi/shiver. shx/hxr. sh♡/h♡r. sie/sier. silk/silk. slee/sleep. sleep/sleep. smile/smile. snap/snapped. sneak/sneak. soft/soft. sou/soul. spi/spider. spi/spirit. spo/spook. spook/spook. sta/stalk. sta/stare. statue/statue. sti/string. stitch/stitch. string/string. sweet/heart. sweet/sweet. sweet/sweetdolls sweetie/sweetie. ta/tap. te/teer. tea/teatime. teeth/teeth. thre/thread. thread/thread. thxy/thxm. th♡y/th♡m. ti/timid. to/toy. toy/toy. toy/toytime. trick/trick. un/canny. unca/uncanny. ve/ver. vey/vem. vi/vr. vintage/vintage. vomit/vomit. wan/wander. watch/watch. whi/whisper. white/white. wilt/wilt. wood/wood. wrath/wrath. yarn/yarn. zzz/zzz. ♡/♡. ⚰️ . 🍨 . 🛌 . 🛏️ . 🥀 . 🧸 .

[thatliminal-wanderer]

Yourself/Silly Billy (Friday Night Funkin) ID pack

Requested by Anon

Names

Aaina, Addolorata, Adheer, Adonis, Akuji, Amador, Amaia, Amanda, Amaya, Ambrose, Anastasia, Angerona, Anurag, Asaka, Asiya, Bacia, Baharupa, Benoni, Bronach, Cadell, Caedmon, Ceolburh, Cessair, Chapal, Claeg, Damien, Darpana, Dempsey, Desdemona, Dolores, Draincun, Elvira, Erasmus, Esme, Faakhir, Garv, Gediminas, Goman, Gondefle, Govran, Greig, Halia, Hel, Idony, Itishree, Jabez, Keres, Kyla, Kyoko, Lenin, Lennon, Leukadios, Lola, Malachi, Malalai, Mallory, Mandy, Manea, Mara, Merripen, Minna, Naeyli, Naushik, Nayela, Nayla, Naylea, Nekane, Niall, Omega, Ophelia, Orpheus, Ozul, Perdita, Prantika, Pritam, Renata, Requiem, Rue, Sheeza, Shivani, Sychar, Tamasvi, Toshi, Tristan, Tristezza, Uqbah

Pronouns

beep/beeps, beloved/beloveds, cherish/cherishes, dear/dears, dull/dulls, haunt/haunts, lyric/lyrics, mic/mics, mimic/mimics, mirror/mirrors, miss/missing/missings, mourn/mourns, music/musics, same/sames, sing/sings, smile/smiles, song/songs, wilt/wilts, you/yous, 🎙️/🎙️s, 🎤/🎤s, 🎵/🎵s, 🎶/🎶s, 🔊/🔊s

Titles

The (Sleepless/Restless) Mind, The Human With A Large Smile, The Lover With a Broken Heart, The Mirrored Soul, The One Akin to a Creepypasta, The One Who Looks Like You, The One With a Lost Soul, The Singer Who Mourns, [prn] Who Misses [prns] Love, [prn] With A Haunted Mic

Genders

00screepastish, Amosoporidreamic, Amourdeathia, Dehumanix, Finalboyfriend, Funkingender, Funkinhypic, Ghostenamoric, Ghostvitica, Glasbrisphoria, Horrorwebgender, Limbobodien, Lostboy, Lostgender, Lovirium, Morfinalboyic, Musicfilled, Phoshorrial, Psychoanatamic, Singersoftware, Somnospectric, Sorrowfilled, Viscurse

Other mogai

Alderhorror, Assigned Shapeshifter at Birth/AShAB, Boyfriendvesi, Melavesi, Musicperspesque, Musicvior, Musivesil

[heauxvibez]

Born Again Virgin: II

Part 2 to Born Again Virgin

Amaia confidently strode through the entrance of her clothing store, the very one she owned, heading straight for her office. Today was special, she was about to meet a new client. Being a rising star in the world of celebrity styling, Amaia was in high demand, just like the famous Kim Kimble.

A call had come in from a manager, pleading for her assistance in styling his client, a WWE Star who had been making waves in the industry for years – Roman Reigns. Known as one of the top wrestlers around, Roman needed a new stylist urgently, especially with the Espy Awards looming just a day away.

Initially, Amaia hesitated, her schedule already packed for the day. But when the manager mentioned the price, she couldn't refuse. Without a second thought, she accepted the job, knowing it would be a whirlwind of fittings and designs.

As she flicked on the lights, Amaia prepared for the arrival of her employees. Her frequent travels meant she wasn't often at the shop, leading her to hire more staff than initially intended.

Turning the sign to 'Open' and another warning against photos and autographs, Amaia reflected on the growing attention her shop received from fans eager to catch a glimpse of celebrity clientele. What started as a minor inconvenience had escalated, prompting the need for clear boundaries.

Unlocking her office door, Amaia breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to be back in her sanctuary after weeks of traveling with other clients. Her office wasn't just any ordinary workspace; it was grand, almost as large as her own apartment. Walls painted in a soothing violet hue, complemented by sleek black and marble flooring, created an air of sophistication. A delicate chandelier hung from above, casting a gentle glow, while a colossal closet dominated the room's rear. Overflowing with garments ranging from petite children's sizes to the sizes of Rick Ross, it was a treasure trove of fashion possibilities.

Every item of clothing was organized by color and style. From elegant dresses to sharp suits, the racks carried a plethora of options, some already worn by clients, while others awaited their red carpet debut at upcoming events and award shows.

Adjacent to the expansive closet were two discreet changing rooms, providing privacy for those hesitant to undress in front of Amaia. She recalled with a chuckle the boldness of certain clients, like Rihanna, who did not care about undressing in her presence. Amaia couldn't help but be thankful that she wore a bra that particular day, given Rihanna's notorious aversion to them.

She busied herself fluffing the plush pillows on her couches. Nestled between them was a sleek glass table, topped with a bowl of yummy fruit candies and a stack of glossy fashion magazines, inviting guests to indulge in both sweets and style.

Reserved exclusively for her esteemed clients, Amaia's office was off-limits without her explicit permission.

Taking her place behind the desk, Amaia sorted through the scattered papers, her schedule filled to the brim. With appointments shuffled to accommodate her newest client, she made a mental note to reschedule today's and tomorrow's clients for Monday.

The lively chatter of her employees filled the air, bringing a smile to Amaia's lips. Each member of her team held a special place in her heart, and she always felt a bit sad when separated from them during her travels. She wanted to wait a bit before going out to speak to them, she focused on returning calls to clients, informing them of the scheduling changes prompted by her latest styling venture.

Mid-task, the ring of her office phone interrupted her concentration.

"Hey Amaia, you got 2 men here saying that they have an appointment with you today,"

"Names?"

"Paul Heyman and Roman Reigns.."

"Okay, send them in, thanks Makayla."

"No problem, boss."

With a soft click, Amaia hung up the phone, tidying a few papers into the drawer of her desk. Just as she finished, three gentle knocks echoed through the room, she rose from her seat and made her way towards the door.

As she swung it open, her gaze was met with the towering figure of a man clad in a simple white t-shirt and gray sweats. Her eyes traveled slowly upwards, taking in the breadth of his frame before meeting his face.

Damn, she thought.

He was undoubtedly the most handsome wrestler she had ever laid eyes on, and she'd seen her fair share. His features were chiseled and defined, sharp enough to cut like a knife. Dark, almost obsidian eyes poured into hers, set against smooth, pretty brown skin. His lips, full and inviting, drew her attention like a magnet.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Roman but you can call me Joe.." His voice, deep and seductive, snapped her out of her trance, though it sent a shiver down her spine, her knees trembling slightly.

A faint smile played at the corners of his lips, noting her reaction. The way she couldn't tear her gaze from his lips gave away more than she realized.

Roman wasn't one to brag, but he knew his charm. He was well aware of his good looks and the effect they had on others, especially women. Seeing Amaia's response wasn't new to him.

Purposefully, he licked his lips, revealing a set of perfect teeth in a charming grin.

"And I'm Paul, his manager."

She tore her gaze away from the striking sight of Roman, turning her attention to the burly man beside him. He sported a black and white suit, a touch of gray in his tie, his balding head lending him a seasoned air. With a weak smile, she extended her hand to shake theirs, introducing herself.

"Sorry we're a little late, I just moved into a new place an-.." Roman began to explain.

"No, it's totally fine. No need to explain.." Amaia interrupted, ushering them into the room and gesturing for them to take a seat on one of the plush couches.

As she opened the door to her closet, she headed towards the section reserved for men's clothing, selecting a few suits to present to Roman. Laying them out on the adjacent couch, she turned back to face him.

"Okay, so I'm styling you for the Espy's correct?"

Roman nodded, "Correct.."

"So, explain to me your style. Like what do you like to wear, favorite colors, so on and so forth..",

"I'm not too big on name brands and stuff like that. I dress casually for the most part. Colors..hmm..I like dark, sometimes with a pop of somethin' bright..you get me?"

She chuckled, pulling out a few dark suits and colorful button-ups and ties.

"I definitely understand,"

Roman glanced at his manager, who seemed preoccupied with his phone.

"What?"

Paul glanced up briefly, "Nothing, don't worry about it. I'll be right back." he smiled, nodding towards Amaia.

"Take good care of him while I'm gone." he requested.

"I'm not a child, I can take care of myself," Roman said, rolling his eyes.

Amaia giggled, "It's fine, I got him."

"Thank you."

She held up a black suit, "Come here for a minute.."

As he approached, she felt a flutter of nerves. His presence was intense, his cologne intoxicating.

Turning to face him, she held up the suit, "How about these black slacks with a black button-up and a deep blood orange or red tie? Or you can wear the black slacks with a red button-up and a black tie..no suit jacket, though.."

Roman considered the options, his presence sending her thoughts into a tailspin.

"I like the all black with the red tie, that would be pretty dope. What do you think?" he asked. His eyes stared deeply into hers, almost as if he were searching for something. If you ask Amaia, she could've sworn he was trying to find her g-spot by staring into her soul.

"I..I think you will look great in that." she stammered.

"Yeah?" he leaned in closer, his breath grazing her cheek.

"Yes.." she breathed out softly, feeling a flutter in her chest. Gripping the clothes tightly, she fought to steady herself. If his intention was to make her lose her mind, he was certainly achieving it.

The door swung open, causing both of them to jump.

"Joe, we got to go. You have a meeting in 30 minutes. If we don't go now, you'll be late, and that's not a good first impression." Paul said, fingers tapping away at his phone.

"What about the outfit for the Espys tomorrow? She doesn't know my sizes.." Roman's concern was evident.

"Text her your sizes and we'll deal with the rest tomorrow morning. Amaia, will you be able to be here at 6:00 am tomorrow?"

She nodded, "Great, problem solved. Let's goooo!" Paul exclaimed, ushering Roman out of the room.

Roman groaned, rubbing his temples.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow.."

"Yeah, tomorrow.." she murmured, glancing down.

"Reigns!"

"I'm coming!"

"See you later, beautiful.." his smirk lingered in her mind.

As the door closed behind them, she sank to the floor, her knees finally giving out.

"My God, what am I going to do with this man?" she lamented, her box braids threatening to fall out of her bun.

This born again virgin thing is going to be harder than she thought.

-----------------

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80 @saintmagx @headoftheetable

[emilmoreno]

@lia-lozano Event: Halloween Party @ Golden Hour Beach Bar. It turned out Amaia wasn't capable of stonewalling him forever, there was still some shred of empathy in her and she'd let Emil take Isabel to a Halloween work party. It wasn't the same as going Door to Door around the neighborhood but they went around to all the desks and the guys set up a little child-friendly fun house on site. So, with that having taken place the evening before Emil was taking his small sliver of hope and floating on cloud nine. A drink in hand helped, of course. Just lightly buzzed enough to have stopped fiddling with his ears every five minutes. He wasn't exactly sure why but he was pretty sure he'd briefly bumped into a smug smirking Mari just moments before he spotted her. He'd heard her laugh first and his head snapped in Lia's direction without him even realizing what he was doing, gaze scanning the crowd for the familiar head of hair. Nothing could've prepared him for the sight. An amused grin danced into place when he clocked the purple-accented jet pack bag. The rest of her costume was cute but revealing and his pulse spiked immediately, not catching himself mindlessly gravitating towards her through the crowd. Sharp blue eyes traced the line of her glittering thigh-high boots, and Emil would like to claim it took longer than it did for his attention to settle on the curve of Lia's butt. He'd had to stop in his tracks to do a double-take when he registered the letter 'E' written boldly on her skin. If it was possible, he was sure his jaw would've hit the floor then and there. Just unhinged and dropped off. His brain seemed to stop functioning for a whole solid minute. Despite being dumbstruck and feeling a warmth blossom up his neck and face his feet decided to function again and before he knew it Emil was stood behind her. His palms were sweaty, his heart thudding in his chest, and a lump in his throat. No idea how to form words as his mind begged him to 'Be Cool'. Be cool, be cool, be cool. Trying to remember how to breathe he lifted a hand to tap on her shoulder and somehow managed to offer her some version of his usual lopsided grin when she turned to him. "You look... out of this world." Emil winked, pun definitely intended.

[hollowayhqs]

Character information

Name: Catalina Amaia Rivera Carrizo “Cat” Age: 30 Gender: Cis - Woman Pronouns: She / Her Species: Werewolf Face claim: Adria Arjona Character Occupation: Tattoo Artist (Fine Line Studios) Neighbourhood of residence: The Manors Affiliation: (Coven/Pack) Hollow Pack Length of stay in Holloway: Seven years.

Character summary:

Born in Guatemala Catalina was the product of an affair between a Guatemalan artist and a Puerto Rican woman travelling. Her father loved her mother and despite the marriage he was already in her father continued their affair after Catalina was born. He had a small presence in the first few years of Catalina’s life, but when her mother passed away, he stepped up to take care of her full time. He brought Catalina into his home where she was raised alongside her half-brother, who was ten years older than her.

Her half-brother left for America when he was in his twenties for reasons unknown to Catalina. From then it was her, her father and his wife who very literally took the role of evil step-mom. Catalina and her step-mom never saw eye to eye because she saw Catalina as nothing more than a mistake. So when the time came that Catalina was old enough to leave the family home she did, and though she is still close with her father she wanted to find her brother. At 19 years old Catalina travelled to America, with not much to go on she tried to search for her brother but simply had no lead and no idea where to start. It was as if he did not want to be found and she could not spend forever searching each state without a penny to her name.

Eventually Catalina stopped off in North Carolina, a place her mother had told her she had extended family, cousins, aunts, uncles... She eventually reached out and found them in Holloway where she has now lived for the past seven years.

Catalina inherited her father's artistic skills and sketching was always her favourite hobby. Eventually Catalina turned it into a career having worked as an apprentice in a local studio and working up to become a popular tattoo artist in the local area.

[t3anks]

Last stop....

Hair:  TETE – GOEUN Hair (Kustom9)Mesh Head: LeLUTKA. EvoX Noel 4.0Skin: [Glam Affair]  Clover [Lelutka EvoX] (DUBAI)Dress: TRIGGERED – Charlie Dress (Kustom9)Glasses: TRIGGERED – Charlie Glasses (Gift) (Kustom9)Nails: Pure Poison – Amaia NailsBackdrop: Amitie – Last Stop BACKDROP (Anthem)Pose and prop: Amitie – Mobile Pose Pack (Anthem)

[ellesource]

HI! How are you? Could you maybe do a pack for Amaia Salamanca in the series Gran Hotel???

hi ! i'm good, thank you, hope you're well !! if i can manage to find the show in good quality then yes, absolutely !

[discoverhudson]

What's Happening in Hudson: February 3rd - 9th, 2025

Join us for another vibrant week in Hudson, packed with activities that cater to all tastes and interests! Here’s the lineup for an exciting week:

Tuesday, February 4th

Taco Tuesdays: Head over to Medusa Brewing Company from 3:00 PM to 9:00 PM for delicious tacos and a great atmosphere.

Vinyl Spinning Trivia: Groove to classic hits and test your trivia skills at Finnegan’s Pub, from 6:00 PM to 8:00 PM.

Music Bingo: Challenge your music knowledge at Medusa Brewing Company starting at 6:30 PM.

Restorative Yoga & Reiki: Unwind with a soothing session at Three Feathers Healing from 7:00 PM to 8:00 PM.

Wednesday, February 5th

"Walk In Wednesdays" Tattoo Sessions: Visit BLVCK ROSE TATTOO between 12:00 PM and 7:00 PM.

Gourmet Burger Night: Begins at 4:30 PM at Amaia Martini Bar, featuring unique, mouth-watering burgers.

Trivia Night: Gather your friends for a fun night of trivia at Medusa Brewing Company from 6:00 PM to 8:30 PM.

Free Community Fit Camp: Join the fitness camp at Boys & Girls Club of MetroWest at 6:00 PM, led by Prosperity Nutrition.

Thursday, February 6th

Open Mic Night: Show off your talents or enjoy live performances at Café 641, starting at 5:30 PM.

Workshop: No "Winter Blues" Necklace: Create your own unique jewelry at Serendipity from 6:00 PM to 8:00 PM.

Live Music: Weekly musical performances to enjoy at Amaia Martini Bar from 7:30 PM to 10:00 PM.

Friday, February 7th

Weekly Playgroup: Bring your little ones for fun activities at Hudson Public Library from 10:00 AM to 12:00 PM.

Live Music by Big Jon Short: Enjoy live blues at Medusa Brewing Company from 7:30 PM to 9:30 PM.

Karaoke Night: Sing your heart out at Amaia Martini Bar starting at 9:30 PM.

Saturday, February 8th

Workshop: Unlock the Magic of the Moon Cycle: Explore lunar influences with Virginia L'Bassi at Synergy Wellness Center from 1:00 PM to 2:30 PM.

Sampling Saturdays: Taste a variety of wines and cheeses at Mullahy’s Cheese from 3:00 PM to 5:00 PM.

Live Music: Catch performances by Bob Moon and Trueman Beccia at Medusa Brewing Company, starting at 3:30 PM and 6:30 PM respectively.

Workshop: Painting Mandala Rocks: Get creative at Serendipity from 6:00 PM to 8:00 PM.

Sunday, February 9th

Live Music: Enjoy tunes by Zach MacDonald at Medusa Brewing Company starting at 10:30 AM.

Free Community Supper: A cozy gathering with delicious food, hosted by Stevie’s Cafe & Three Feathers Healing at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church from 6:00 PM onwards.

Make sure to check out these amazing events and experience the best of Hudson!

[thxgreywaren]

Amaia Romero layouts (request)

༄ Like or reblog if you save/use

༄ Don’t clame as your own

╰┈ ೃ Credits twitter: @thxgreywaren

[lunelouv]

— ♡ °  𝙰𝙼𝙰𝙸𝙰 𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚁𝙾 𝙶𝙸𝙵 𝙸𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚂

 if you click ( ʜᴇʀᴇ ) you will find  #337 gif icons  ( 80x80 )  of spanish singer amaia romero  from  operación triunfo 2017.   all of these gif icons were made from scratch by me, so pleaaase don’t claim as your own or repost in other gif hunt.  i worked really hard on these, so likes or reblogs would be appreciated if you found this useful, 𝑒𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎

[allie-scribbles]

Love, Found

Summary: It’s the big reunion. But will it be a happy one?

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k (whoops)

Series Tags/Warnings: Angst, sad feels, implied pregnancy (now there's a baby!), cussing because I can't help it, a smidge of violence.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Interlude | Part 4

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You swear you aren’t force sensitive, but the way you step outside one day and somehow, deep down, know he’s there makes you re-evaluate that assumption - if only for a second.

You had just gotten Amaia down for a nap and were planning for a moment of peace and quiet in your garden when you felt it: you were being watched. Only this didn’t feel like the uncomfortable gaze of a stranger or a judgemental look from an acquaintance. It was calm and focused. Warm, if a bit distant. It was him, and you didn’t need to be a Jedi to know it.

It almost takes you by surprise, how quickly he’d arrived on Wrea. It had only been a couple weeks since Hunter had let you know he’d given your coordinates to Crosshair. To be honest, part of you was expecting to wait months for him to show up. But there was never any doubt that he’d observe from afar first, making his move when he felt comfortable. The Empire may have changed him, but you still were confident you knewhim like the back of your hand.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Crosshair had been in the same position for hours upon hours, yet the fatigue and stiffness didn't register. He pushed them to the back of his mind, quite easily in fact, putting all his focus on you. You, who had haunted his dreams since he begged you to defect to the Empire with him. The person who betrayed him even more than his brothers. He had bared things to you he’d never dare whisper to them, trusted you with his ramshackle heart, and in the end, you didn’t choose him.

That’s what he had been telling himself, at least, until you were there in his scope. Cliché as it was, he couldn’ breathe for a moment when he saw you. You were exactly the same, yet different somehow. You seemed softer around the edges, both physically and in the way you moved. Where your movements before were purposeful and precise, there was now a graceful ease.

He watched through the window as you readied breakfast, singing to yourself and dancing in the kitchen. He watched you slip on a shawl and shoes as you exited the front door, a bundle strapped to your chest that he quickly realized was a baby in a very fuzzy hat with Tooka ears (not an actual Tooka). He felt a sharp panic then, easily quelled when you returned from the village minutes later without the child. He knew you had always liked children, so it made perfect sense you’d help the villagers watch them when needed.

A few household chores later and you returned to the village, coming back after a short while with what he assumed was another child strapped to you - the Tooka hat was gone and replaced with a plain bonnet. He allowed himself a half smile then - you were still his girl, caring and always willing to lend a hand where needed.

That led him to now, when you stepped out to the garden alone, taking a deep breath and smiling as the wind brushed your hair away from your face. As he watched you through his scope, he felt the full weight of his situation hit him for the first time. He could reveal himself, or not… risk being rejected again, or not.

He made his decision, removing himself from the patch of ground he had made his home for the day, packing up his kit with the intent to leave you once and for all. His fragile heart couldn’t take rejection again from the one thing it loved above all else. Just as he was about to tuck his scope into its compartment, he caved, stealing one last glance your way. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you were staring right at him, a serene smile on your face, like you knew he was there. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face and shoving the scope angrily into his kit. Whatever previous decision he made wasthrown to the wind. He fucking loved you, and he hadto try.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were washing dishes when the energy in the apartment shifted. Your hands stilled, and you took a deep breath. This was it. The moment you had been waiting for. But your movements were slow and deliberate as you set down the now clean plate, drained the water from the sink, and wiped your hands on the towel before folding it neatly on the counter. You steeled yourself as you turned, not sure what version of Crosshair you were going to find. The imperial soldier? The stoic sniper you first met? Or the man you were irrevocably in love with?

When you turned around, he was seated at the kitchen table, feet up and toothpick in his mouth, a smirk on his face. You gave his feet a pointed look, and he huffed out a chuckle as he swung them down to the floor.

“Miss me, sweetheart?” he drawled, legs spread wide and one arm slung over the back of the chair, looking for all intents and purposes like a permanent fixture in your home instead of the (welcomed) intrusion that he was. But still you could see the apprehension, the uncertainty in his eyes. The concern that what has transpired has changed you, changed him, too much. That what you had was completely and utterly gone.

The only sign of surprise is his soft “oof” as you flung yourself at him, arms around his neck and knees hitting the floor as you hug him as best you can in your awkward position. He immediately returned your embrace with one arm, the other hand resting under your chin. Both work in tandem to guide you both to a standing position. Though he still says nothing, you can see how much he missed you shining in his eyes, felt it vibrating through his body, tasted it in the searing kiss he pressed to your lips as he held you close.

You stood there together reveling in the closeness for what seems like hours, until a soft cry from the next room breaks the silence. Panic flooded through you; while Amaia was asleep you had been able to pretend this moment you’ve dreaded would never come. But Crosshair doesn’t seem surprised, which you guess made sense if he had been watching you. But did he know?

He spun you around to face the bedroom door and pats you on the ass, a smirk on his face as he jutted his chin towards the source of the cry. You give his hand one last squeeze before you go, and his responding squeeze gave you both hope that maybe things would be just like they were.

Admittedly, you took longer than you needed to gather Amaia, drawing out changing her diaper and tidying the blankets in her crib as long as you could. You could feel your heart beating a mile a minute, your muscles tensed your skin clammy. Amaia sensed it too, refusing to settle in your arms as she continued whining and wiggling.

You took one last deep breath to fortify yourself, and slipped back into the main room. Crosshair was examining some baby paraphernalia carefully, as if it may bite him. His back was to you, and you couldn’t help but snort a little at his posture and the confusion you knew was on his face. But your laugh gave you away, and he suddenly spoke as he turned toward you.

“I should’ve known you’d be helping out with the village’s babies. You were always so good with my…” his voice died mid sentence as he took you in.

He froze, going stiller than you’d ever seen before. His eyes darted from Amaia to you and back, tracing every similarity the two of you share and cataloging each difference. You could see him connect the dots almost instantly… how could he not? A shock of white hair, his warm eyes set just as yours were, and his skin tone on a face shaped exactly like yours left no doubt. In your arms was a perfect blend of him and you.

You want to plead with him to not be mad, to let you explain, to do anything to make him stay, but when you registered the newest emotion on his face as fear - true, genuine fear - the words just didn’t come. You could count the number of times you’d seen this man scared on one hand; hell, on one finger. And the one thing you had learned is that a scared Crosshair was an angry Crosshair.

So when you softly whispered, “Cross-,” part of you wasn’t surprised when his blank mask snapped back over his face, or when he simply stated, “No,” and stalked right out your front door, gone as quickly as he appeared. Part of you knew it was coming. But the other part of you collapsed on the floor, sobs wracking your body as you held Amaia close.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was 2 a.m. when you heard the door to your and Amaia’s shared room squeak. When you finally worked up the nerve to roll over some minutes later, you saw a tall, thin figure slightly bending over the crib, backlit by the soft nightlight.

You slipped out of bed and padded over to Crosshair, stopping a few feet away. You could see the tension in his shoulders, yet they’re slumped almost in defeat. He tentatively reached out as if to brush a lock of silver hair off of Amaia’s forehead, but retracted his hand a millimeter away, quickly as if he had been burned.

“I had a right to know,” he whispered, and there was no mistaking the anger, the fear in his voice. “I had a right to know about her,” he practically spat, and that was what snapped you out of your trance. There was no way he was getting away with talking about your daughter in that tone.

You grabbed his wrist as firmly as you could, and dragged him into the main room of the cottage where the low light over the stove casted just enough light.

“And I had to do what I thought would keep our daughter safe,” you seethed. “Do you know what the Empire would do with the daughter of a clone? Because I don’t, and I don’t ever want to find out.”

He jerked his hand out of your grasp. “I could’ve kept you safe,” he all but whispered, anger lacing his words. “If I had known, I could’ve kept you and her safe.”

“Her name is Amaia,” you threw back at him, “and since you decided to leave, I had to do what I thought was best.”

You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before the unthinkable happened. Crosshair broke. He slumps into your kitchen chair, head hanging in his hands, and you swore you see a tear make its way down his cheek.

“I don’t know what to do,” he confessed in a broken whisper. “I love you and I think I love her, and I don’t know what to do.”

You felt all the anger leave your body at the sight of the broken man in front of you. Slowly, you crossed over to him and sunk to your knees between his legs as best you could, in a more somber mirroring of your earlier position. You took his hands in yours and lowered them from his face, releasing them only to wipe the tear track from his cheek. Pressing your forehead to his, you whispered one simple word: “Stay”.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He stayed. For the next day, at least. Much to your shock - and delight - Crosshair was a natural with Amaia. You attempted to reassure him the first time he tried to hold her, wanting him to know he didn’t have to be afraid of dropping or hurting her, but your words were met with a smirk and an eye roll.

“Honey, these are the steadiest hands in the galaxy. They don’t drop anything they don’t mean to.”

He was a bit flustered the first time she cried, but quickly recovered by standing her up and balancing her in the palm of his hand (which was met with squeals of delight from her and mild terror from you).

The afternoon found you all in your small bed, Amaia napping contentedly between Crosshair and yourself. His fingers ghosted up and down your arm, gaze flirting between your small daughter and you, and you swore you had never seen him look more at peace. Until suddenly, he wasn’t. The sound of a ship passing overhead startled him out of his daze, and he suddenly went back to his stoic self.

“I have to leave tonight,” he stated simply, as if unaware of the effect those simple words would have on you.

“Crosshair, what… why? You said you would stay!“ you whispered, determined to not wake Amaia.

He motioned for you to wait a second, and scooped her up and placed her in her crib oh so gently. Then, he beckoned you to follow him into the kitchen.

“I thought you said you were staying,” you hissed, somewhere between pleading and anger.

He slowly approached you and gently pulled you into his arms, resting his head atop yours. He held you there for a moment until your body relaxed into soft sobs.

“Mesh’la,” he whispered, tilting your chin up so you met his eyes. “Mesh’la, I’m not leaving you. I just… if I aim to get away from the Empire and not endanger you, endanger my family… I have to go back. But I’ll return to you both.”

His thumbs stroking tears off your cheeks did nothing to calm you as you tore yourself from his grip. Logically, you knew he was right. But after so long expecting him to find you and Amaia and being disgusted by what he found, you couldn’t bear to let him go after the slice of normalcy you’d gotten a taste of today. You stood by the kitchen window, sobbing into the sink.

You heard him shift awkwardly behind you; he was never the best at handling displays of emotion. After a few long minutes, he cleared his throat. “Baby, you know I… Maker, I don’t want to kriffing leave! But I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you. Either of you.”

His voice broke on the last sentence, and you turn around and are met with a sight you never thought you’d see. Tears were shining in Crosshair’s eyes. His hair was mussed, short strands normally kept down now flying in all directions. His hand not supporting his weight on the small table was digging into the back of his neck.

You regarded him calmly as you could, waiting for him to finish. Apparently he didn’t know where to go next, because he paced and ran his hands through his hair again.

He stopped in front of you several times as if to speak, but resumed his pacing before he finally stopped for good.

“Six months,” he breathed “Give me six months. I’ll come back. I’ll be her buir and your riduur. But I need to keep you safe.”

The look of sheer desperation on his face would have been enough to convince you. You nodded slowly, and let him collapse into your arms. After all, what was another six months when you had a lifetime ahead of you?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The sun rose the next morning, and Crosshair was gone as quickly as he had come.

Six months. That’s all you had to endure. Six months.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You woke up, once again filled with anticipation. It had been just about six months since Crosshair left. Actually, six months and 14 days. But who was counting? Not you.

The day passed slowly and uneventfully, with you and Amaia mostly spending the time outside as you were accustomed to doing. Not only was the weather delightful, but being able to see Crosshair as soon as he appeared was a motivation you were all too willing to own up to.

Like every other day recently, it ended in disappointment. When you finally wrangled Amaia into bed, you made yourself a cup of tea and sat by the window to wistfully look over the darkening horizon until your hope for the day was extinguished.

And so passed six months and 15 days. Six months and 28 days. Seven months and 12 days. Nine months and three days. One year, two months and 17 days. Two years on the dot.

Of course there were visits from Amaia’s ba’vode. And any time they came was a delightful distraction, but even they could see the wear the waiting was taking on you. You were no longer your chipper self, convinced Crosshair had either changed his mind or was dead. You weren’t sure which was worse.

At two years, one month, and one day, you finally gave up. He wasn’t coming.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Amaia was now a rambunctious five-year-old, running around with the village children and making all sorts of trouble and mess. Today, you had sent her off to a friend's house, with the promise you would take the terrors that were your children the next day so Carra could have a break of her own.

You were engrossed in washing dishes, humming and swaying to an impromptu song. You’d finally started to feel yourself again, even entertained thoughts of seeing one of the men in the village. Kane was kind, and was never anything but gentle in his interactions with Amaia.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts you didn’t hear the door open, didn’t hear the bag that was sat down in the entryway, or the sound of feet swung up on your kitchen table. In fact, you didn’t notice anything until you were suddenly aware of everything. The dish slipped from your hand and shattered in the sink. Swallowing in an attempt to wet your suddenly dry-as-Tatooine mouth, you could only think of one thing to say.

“Get your kriffing feet off my table, Cross.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice as he responded. “Come over here and make me, mesh’la.”

[thatliminal-wanderer]

Doll Sleeping in a Coffin ID Pack

Requested by Anon

Names

Amaia, Amaya, Ankou, Asaka, Asha, Bronach, Bronagh, Brone, Cessair, Chiwa, Claeg, Coffin, Deidre, Desdemona, Dolores, Dáinn, Gwen, Itishree, Jabez, Julie, Kailey, Kanani, Lea, Lefu, Letum, Libitina, Loaela, Lola, Lolah, Lolita, Lolla, Mara, Marzana, Maveth, Merripen, Morana, Mors, Mort, Mot, Nanea, Nekane, Omega, Panchaali, Prantika, Punthali, Putala, Shivani, Smierc, Solikha, Sychar, Than, Thana, Trista, Ultima

Pronouns

antique/antiques, car/carcasses, coffin/coffins, corpse/corpses, dead/deads, death/deaths, doll/dolls, dolly/dollys, end/ends, fi/figure/figures, grave/graves, grief/griefs, grim/grimms, nap/naps, patch/patchs, plush/plushes, por/porcelain/porcelains, rest/rests, sleep/sleeps, stitch/stitchs, thread/threads, toy/toys, vintage/vintages, wilt/wilts, zzz/zzzs, ⚰️/⚰️s, 🛌/🛌s, 🛏️/🛏️s, 🥀/🥀s, 🧸/🧸s, 🪆/🪆s, 🪦/🪦s

Titles

A Doll with Coffin Filled Dreams, The Coffin Rester, The Doll in a Coffin, The Doll that Dreams, The One That Has [prns] Own Coffin, The One Who Sleeps in a Coffin, The Sleeping One, The Tired Doll, [prn] Who Dreams in a Coffin

Genders

Assoftmemoric, Casketlexic, Deathlexofare, Deathlexuvel, Deathsickly, Dollcreepycute, Dollgoric, Graveyardia, Horroneostelica, Pastelgothdollic, Resdoveic, Somnigender, Soporine, Soporinedollic, Sorrowdollgender, Spicoffiyn, Worndollygender, Zombidollic

Other mogai

Alderdeath, Alderdoll, Aldervintadoll, Assigned Void Doll at Birth/AVDaB, Death Omninoun, Dollperspesque, Dollstelic, Dollvior, Invideasasurai, Mortivesil

[emilmoreno]

Full Name: Emiliano Tomás Moreno Nickname: Emil Age & Birthday: 33 - November 20th.  Occupation: Marine Welder Preferred Pronouns & Gender: He/him & cis-male Sexuality: Heterosexual Hometown: Briar Ridge, South Carolina. Neighborhood: Beach Front Family: Isabel 'Isa' Moreno - 9 year old daughter.

Pinterest | Stats | Connections. 

trigger warnings: car accident.

Born locally, Emil had what he would consider a mostly fairly middle of the road childhood. He often felt a bit detached from his parents, but he wanted for very little outside of perhaps a more socially stimulating environment. His uncle who was deemed by his ma as the ‘wild’ one of her family is very close to him.

A lot of times it was his uncle that took him to tee-ball, and sat in the stands all through his schooling years on the field.

Just as he was about to pack his bags and get out of dodge on a baseball scholarship, he experienced one of his first real upsets in life. His ma was in a bad car crash, and had to go through physical therapy. With medical bills and her needing help around the house, Emil put off college.

A semester turned into a year plus, but eventually with luck on his side and some help from his high school sweetheart’s family - Emil left town for his belated start out in San Diego on scholarship and studying physical therapy.

Everything was going pretty swimmingly, even his long distance relationship and he was so close to making the draft that he could practically hear the stadium crowds cheering for him. but alas life had one more curve ball for him & he was given the news that Amaia was pregnant and Emil immediately dropped everything to go back home.

Things went downhill from there in the years to follow. Between his own emotional distress of giving up his dream, there was a lot of tension between him and Amaia that he thought getting married could somehow fix. When it didn’t, the pair had a really ugly divorce and a custody battle you’d expect to be run by Judge Judy. Amaia was successful in painting Emil poorly and in the end, though he’d get visitations, he lost the custody battle for Isabel.

Having followed in his father’s footsteps upon coming back home, Emil nowadays has a very steady career. Though none of it is what he imagined he would be doing growing up he’s far from miserable, he’s adapted pretty well. Being able to turn his welding experience into his own thing by getting all his diving certifications definitely helped him settle in. Coaching tee-ball and being a sub for a local softball team certainly helps as well. The main stress in his life currently is dealing with his ex-wife and having to sometimes fight tooth and nail to get his owed visitations etc. with Isa. It doesn’t help that she’s old enough to ask questions Emil doesn’t always have an answer to, like why she has to stay with her mother. He’s stable enough that he’d like to go back to court, but he’s a little nervous it’d be hard on Isa and that he has less of a leg to stand on when Amaia has had her for as long as she has.

Fun facts:

he has a husky named Hercules after the dog in The Sandlot.

can be a bit of a thrill seeker. Likes roller coasters, dancing, and spontaneous road trips.

technically has enough diving certifications he could be a diving instructor but has little interest.  

owns way too many jerseys kind of sports fan, has seasonal tickets. supports a lot of local teams.

has a serious shellfish allergy, which is slightly amusing given the local cuisine.

likes #DadJokes and always has a snack on him because of either Isa or the kids he coaches for tee-ball.

[al-mayriti]

OT 2017 TOP 3 GALA 11

Here's gala 10 :)

THIS GALA. NO YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. It's been 3 years, and I still remember it as the best gala in OT history. If anyone asked me to choose one gala they should watch of all OT, I'd tell them gala 11 of OT 2017 in a heartbeat, it was too much and I had so much fun. AND THE SONGS!!! Even the ones that I didn't like as much were great, and it has genuinely some of the best performances in the whole edition packed into a single gala. It's the fucking best.

Anyways, let's get into the honorable mentions:

Pais Tropical - Groupal: THE BEST GROUPAL OF THE EDITION. It's so freaking fun and serotonin inducing, the absolute best!!! Also, this is the only groupal song in all of OT history that isn't in Spanish nor English (if we don't count Waka Waka), which I think is pretty cool!

Sign of the Times - Alfred: This is hands down Alfred's best performance, and even though the song is already a freaking bop, he makes it his and owns it! Also I believe this is the gala when he had the anxiety attack? In that case he did so good despite his mental state!!

Cuando Duermes - Alfred & Miriam: This duet is so underapreciated and it's sooo good it should be criminal. Their voices sound great together and I just feel it's a very nice performance :)

Love on the Brain - Amaia: Amaia 😳😳😳😳😳 I remember when she told Aitana "i'm gonna touch my pussy"... and then she did it. Just, amazing, and the voice is gorgeous as always.

3. WHAT ABOUT US - MIRIAM

Here's the original song, by P!nk :): https://youtu.be/ClU3fctbGls

My sister took a picture of me during this song in the live concert where you can see i'm crying my eyes out but with the biggest smile in my face. I think that pretty much sums up my feelings towards this performance. The thing is, this was the ending of her "redemption arc". Throughout the contest, Miriam was painted as the villain for being "bossy" and "too serious", she got lots of hate and on top of that she didn't had the best luck with the songs she had to sing either. Apparently more or less when I started watching the contest was the start of her redeeming, and after this song everyone was on board not only with her, but with her being a finalist, because she deserved it.

2. PROCURO OLVIDARTE - AITANA

Here's the original song, by Manuel Alejandro :)

It's been 3 years and I haven't been able to get over this performance. The fact that all the music was live, her outfit, her emotion, her cracking at the end and crying... It was by far Aitana's best performance, and I think it was also a changing point for her internally. I remember she was going through a lot that week and she was able to canalize everything in this song. Anyways, this is one of the best performances of the edition, and one that I believe is underapreciated.

1. ELOISE - AGONEY

Here's the original song, by Tino Casal :)

THIS IS MY FAVORITE SONG OF THE EDITION AND NOW YOU KNOW WHY. Like, it's just TOO MUCH. OF EVERYTHING. AND AGONEY'S VOCALS!!!! This also was my sister's my cousin's and my song, we would sing it from the top of our lungs everytime we heard it and of course we knew the dance moves (and we did them during the concer tsjdjsdj). The best, no one did it like him.

[infinite-plumbobs]

Sul Sul, I’m Amaia Rudge and I’d love to be adopted by you and your Sim Family. I’m a Independent Toddler whose favourite colour is Pink and I’m not a fan of being told what to do.

FOR ADOPTION HERE: http://www.simfileshare.net/download/2147421/

Please ensure you also download all the CC required below. Big thanks to the CC and Pose Creators ❤ Please Note the Leggings in her Party outfit require Parenthood Game Pack.

Body:

Hair - https://www.patreon.com/posts/kisai-buns-31929961

Eyelashes - https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/1388385

Eyes - https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/1493460

Eyebrows - https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/1485276

Cheeks - https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/1462235

Lips - https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/1389996

Everyday:

Jumper: http://sims4nexus.com/?p=13490

Jeans - https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/1503572

Boots - https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/1510655

Hair Accessory - https://simiracle.tumblr.com/post/621564078511587328/grue-roxy-3t4-a-bow-version-b-35-swatches

 Formal:

Dress - http://sims4nexus.com/?p=14331

Earrings - https://giuliettasims.com/2018/01/flower-diamond-toddler-earrings/

Sleepwear - https://sims4nexus.com/?p=15197

Swimwear - https://sims4nexus.com/?p=14905

Party:

Top - http://sims4nexus.com/?p=14401

Shoes - http://sims4nexus.com/?p=12643

Hot Weather:

Top & Shorts - https://sims4nexus.com/?p=14552

Shoes - https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/1379595

Cold Weather:

Coat - https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/1423774

Earrings -  https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/1508952

Headband - https://www.simsdom.com/downloads/163647/baby-headband-v1-sims4

[anchorsandadderall]

Dolly

Sterek Week, Day 7: Halloween

Words: 2,629

Summary: Nothing in the Stilinski-Hale house is ever normal, of course. Not even birthday gifts for their son Herald.

Genre: Horror (sort of), Humor

If you do not yet know the tale of Herald, please go and view/read this absolute gem of the fandom here. Herald and his origin story belong to @spaggel and @grimm-times

Aside from the Sheriff, Cora was probably the one most unaffected when she met Herald. Derek and Stiles introduced them via FaceTime, because that tends to be the easiest way to introduce new, woefully unsuspecting people to him. They have the opportunity to hang up and swear the call dropped if it’s too much all at once. The amount of people who suddenly ‘lost signal’ when FaceTiming It for the first time is staggering. Scott swore he thought their kid was super adorable, he just lost signal while in a tunnel, despite the fact that he was calling them from a Burger King. 

It’s also helpful that electronics seem to malfunction around It a lot, and while sometimes the flickering screen has the same effect as the reveal of the girl in The Ring, a lot of times the static helps to… soften things. While sitting on the couch with Derek and It, Stiles bangs the side of his phone to try and sort out the heavy lines of distortion running up from the bottom of the screen, making everything wobble as it passes. That has to actually be making things look worse, surely. 

“Okay, now please remember that Herald is like… eight years old now, so he understands stuff that people are saying.”

Derek clears his throat. “He’s five.”

Stiles pauses and counts in his head. Time seems to go a lot slower when one is awaiting possible eminent death in ones own home all the time. “Five. But he can still understand you.”

“Sti- Stiles.” Cora’s voice jumps and doubles back as the screen wobbles. “The only danger here is you making me motion sick. Lemme see my nephew.”

Stiles sighs and tilts his phone to bring It into view. “Herald. This is your Aunt Cora.”

Herald takes the phone, grasping it in his knobby little fingers and stares at Cora’s flickering image. His eyes unfocus and the pupils drift apart slightly. Stiles braces himself for the hang-up but Cora just laughs.

“Hey, he’s got Derek’s eyebrows!”

***

The package arrives four weeks later, and it’s covered in red ink stamps and writing on the shipping label. It’s in Spanish, written in a dying ballpoint pen. But the mailman didn’t hang around to say there was extra shipping due or anything. Plus it’s from Cora, so it has to be fine. Stiles just cuts the box open and sifts through the balled-up newspapers.

And finds the doll.

The doll is some sort of cloth nightmare creation from Cora’s neck of the woods in South America. It’s rail-thin, the body wrapped in some kind of lacy doily to make a dress. The arms are too long, and the eyes are too big, bugging out of her head. For some reason the eyes are sewn onto black felt circles. Stiles thinks it’s supposed to mimic eyeliner, but the eyes are too high on the head and the circles form large, dark crescents under her eyes. 

Stiles shudders and stuffs her back into the newspapers so it hides those bulging eyes, grabbing the piece of folded cardstock that’s been rifled around with the papers. Cora’s messy scrawl is inside, written in red pen.

‘1 missed birthday present down. More to come. Love, Aunt Cora’

“Hey kiddo,” Stiles says automatically as he hears the front door open as Derek comes home from picking It up from kindergarten. He shoves the box aside so he can mail the hideous thing back to Cora and tell her to buy It a less creepy doll off Amazon if this is what they all look like where she shops. “How was school?”

“He didn’t bite anyone today,” Derek says, releasing It’s hand so he can wander freely around the kitchen while Derek hangs up his backpack. “His teacher is thrilled.”

“Me too, because that means he gets to stay another week.” Stiles presses a kiss to Derek’s cheek. “Our kid might learn those pesky social graces yet.”

“Can I see her?”

Stiles looks over at where It has perched himself at the edge of the table, staring up at the box without blinking. “What?”

Herald points up at the box.

“What are you talking about, buddy?” Derek walks over to the box and sifts the paper around, pulling the doll free. When he flips her over and the wiry black hair falls away to reveal the huge eyes, he startles and drops the doll… right into Herald’s waiting arms. 

“Your uh… sister decided to send that for Herald,” Stiles says, internally screaming. Herald has the doll, and looks quite pleased about it. Stiles is probably a terrible person if he gets rid of it now.

“Oh.” Derek looks down at it, a shudder running up his spine. “…Why?”

“How the hell should I know? She always had a weird sense of humor.” Stiles sighs. Time to foster good habits and all that parental stuff. “Let’s call Aunt Cora tonight and say thank you, okay?”

It turns his head slightly, not looking at anyone. Turning his ear towards the doll, maybe? Then he nods his head.

“She packed her too close to the strawberries. She didn’t like that.”

“Right.” It’s not the weirdest thing Herald has ever said. It’s not even the weirdest thing thing week. “Well, we don’t give people feedback when we’re thanking them for a present. So don’t say that to Aunt Cora.”

“Yes,” It says, and then departs with the doll. 

When Stiles is dumping out the newspapers to fold the box down, he finds a bag of candies tucked in the bottom of the box. There’s a smiling piece of red, round candy on the front of the bag, holding a strawberry.

***

The doll is called Amaia. Stiles takes note that It always just says that her name is Amaia, not that he named her. He likes to talk to her, which, again, isn’t all that weird. It talks to a lot of inanimate objects. And then he forgets to talk to his very animate parents for long periods of time. 

So he loves the doll and calls her his new friend and everything is great. Stiles can overlook the creepy factor since it makes Herald so happy. Hell, his kid has a creepy factor, who is he to hold it against a doll? But one does have to draw the line somewhere, and for Stiles, that’s at the front door. 

“Maybe you can take Amaia for the next show and tell day, okay?” Stiles offers after having successfully distracted It with Pop Tarts long enough to pluck the doll off the table. 

“She doesn’t like my teacher,” It says, watching the doll. “I want to show her that she’s nice.”

Ooookay, the doll is never going to show and tell. Ever. “Well, when you come home you can tell her all kinds of nice things about your teacher.”

It gives this a long moment of consideration. “Yes,” he finally agrees, and goes back to carefully biting his Pop Tart into the shape of an anatomically-correct heart. Stiles gives Derek a ‘dodged a bullet’ look of relief. Once Derek leaves to take It to school, Stiles stows the doll on top of the fridge so he doesn’t have to look at her creepy bug eyes all day. 

Stiles is working at the kitchen table at his laptop, tapping his fingers on the edge. He’s half focused on his screen, but something sort of... itches in the back of his head, but on the inside. A twitchy, uneasy feeling. 

“Derek, quit watching me,” he says, not taking his eyes off the screen. 

No answer. The prickling doesn’t go away.

Stiles sighs and rubs his eyes, breaking the spell of concentration with the screen (which wasn’t exactly helping him make progress). He turns to the kitchen doorway to tell Derek to stop being a creeper and make sandwiches or something.

The doorway is empty. The kitchen is empty. 

Stiles rubs the back of his neck gingerly as he looks around and confirms that... he’s definitely alone. The kitchen is quiet, save the slight hum of his laptop and the ticking of the clock that’s hanging over the stove. 

It’s cold. Well, Stiles thinks it’s cold, but there’s also the very real possibility that he’s just bored, and neither of those problems will be solved by him just sitting here. He gets up, trying to rub a little warmth into his arms, and heads out of the kitchen. A quick walk around the house, maybe asking Derek if he was hanging around the kitchen recently, grabbing a jacket if he needs to... then he can get back to work. 

When Stiles opens the door to the home office where Derek is working, he’s trying to pull a second sweatshirt over his first one. “Hey Derek. Were you in the kitchen?”

“Not recently, wh...” Derek turns to the door and fades out in the middle, eyebrows coming together as he looks Stiles up and down. “Are you okay?”

“It’s kinda chilly downstairs, don’t you think?”

“I-” Derek pauses as his computer begins humming louder, like it’s running harder. The screen dims. The lamp in the office dims, casting a brown tint on the walls. The bulb sputters, slight pops of yellow as it tries to fight back to full brightness.

Then it passes. The light comes back on fully, the cheerful orange light from the bulb radiating comfortably. The computer quiets back down. Derek immediately saves his work, just in case. 

“That was... weird. Uh, I haven’t been downstairs since I got home,” he says. 

“Oh,” Stiles says, for lack of anything better to say. He can’t very well insist that Derek had to be downstairs because it’s way creepier if he wasn’t. “Right. Well. I’m gonna go... get back to work.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Derek asks, leaning over his desk like he’s tryin to get a closer look at Stiles, but he’s already making a beeline for the staircase.

The kitchen light is off when Stiles gets back downstairs. So is his laptop. Everything is silent except the clock.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Stiles yanks his chair out, wondering how the hell he was gone long enough for his computer to go into sleep mode. Movement on the chair makes him glance down before he tries to sit. 

Amaia is on his chair. The force of him pulling it out has tipped her onto her side, one long arm falling past the edge of the chair. Bulging eyes staring at him. 

Stiles grabs the doll and shoves her into the freezer, slamming it shut. 

“Don’t make me call a priest,” he warns through the closed door. “You better not have screwed up my computer.”

***

It’s hard to be phased by much of anything after a life in Beacon Hills and now five years of fatherhood to the creepy little gremlin that is their son. Stiles and Derek just kind of take the first week in stride. Weird stuff happens when It is away at school. It usually stops when he comes home and Stiles returns custody of the doll to him. At worst, Stiles nicks his fingers on every knife in the utensil drawer while trying to find a wooden spoon. Messy, but not too bad when one’s mate has pain-removing powers.

Then It stays with his grandpa for the weekend. Stiles makes him leave the doll again, because hell if he’s sending that thing to his dad’s house. 

Amaia does not appear to like that. 

Stiles taps his fingers on his knees while the phone rings in his ear.

“Stiles.” Cora’s voice on the other end is groggy but suspicious. “Wha’s wrong? It’s... 5 in the morning.”

“1 in the morning for us. Cora, where did you get that doll you sent to Herald?” Stiles asks, tapping his fingers faster. 

“Is that Derek growling I’m hearing?” she asks. Stiles can hear rustling on the other end of the line as Cora sits up. The phone buzzes in his ear as the connection weakens. 

“Yeah, that’s Derek. There’s a little girl standing at the foot of our bed.” Stiles rubs Derek’s shoulder to try and keep him from launching himself at whatever is standing there and staring at them. “Or, I think there is. She’s suspiciously featureless in the shadows.”

“What the hell?” Cora sounds fully awake now, and Stiles will at least have the petty satisfaction of dragging her up at a horrible hour on a Saturday after all fo this bullshit.

“Yeah. The light has been unplugged somehow and there’s a little girl standing at the foot of our bed in the dark. Staring at us,” Stiles repeats. He can’t see her eyes, but ohh, it’s easy to feel they’re being stared down. “Presumably here to kill us because Herald is away.”

“What the fuck kind of doll did you send our son?” Derek growls, not taking his eyes off the still figure facing them. 

“I mean... it was just a doll,” Cora protests. “Lots of the women around here sew and make kids’ toys.”

“Are they all in a cult or something?” Stiles hisses, trying to toe the line of belligerence. He’s not sure if it’s possible to piss this thing off and he doesn’t really want to find out either. Not when he’s only wearing boxers and he’s carelessly moved his bat to the closet after It tried to use it to beat a hole into the wall. (He wanted to go into the crawl space. Stiles absolutely did not ask why.) 

“No. They’re just a bunch of old grandmas who make clothes and toys,” Cora huffs. “I know what a cult looks like.” 

“Then why is there a demon attached to the doll they made?” Stiles asks. Because they still have no explanation for what’s at the foot of their bed.

“I don’t know! I showed one of them a picture of Herald and said I wanted something he would like. That’s it, I swear.” 

“And... then what?” 

“She crossed herself. Which people do a lot when I show them a photo of Herald.” Cora sighs and Stiles can hear her tapping her nails on some surface as she thinks. “And then she sold me the doll. Simple as that.” 

“Great. I think your grandma friend was some kind of vigilante trying to rid the world of our creepy kid.” Stiles holds the phone away from his ear as the static hisses and distorts the line. 

The shadow at the foot of the bed flickers and appears on Stiles’ side of the bed. Derek lunges for her and the shadow makes a sound like static on a dead television channel that makes Stiles’ ears hurt. 

“Oh, thanks Cora! Send me the replacement doll so I can burn this one,” Stiles says loudly into the phone. 

The shadow shrieks angrily and vanishes just in time for Derek to pass through her and land on the floor. 

“Stiles?” Cora’s voice is faint as Stiles drops back against his pillows and sighs in relief. “Stiles, what doll? What are you talking about?”

“Where did she go?” Derek snarls, eyes blazing blue in the dark room, whipping his head around. 

Stiles groans and rubs his face. “Bye, Cora,” he says, hanging up the phone. “Come back to bed, babe.”

“What the hell are we supposed to do about that thing?” Derek growls, climbing back into bed. 

Stiles pulls the blanket up to his shoulders, hunkering down under it. He’s still getting his goddamn child-free night of sleep, and no haunted doll is going to stop him. “We order another creepy-ass doll from Amazon and use it to keep her in line until she gets too strong and we have to exorcise her. Obviously.”