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mariasont · 5 months

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Office Sleepover 2 - A.H

a/n: had sm fun writing this one yall

im so down bad for him ugh

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

part one here! part three here!

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader flashes hotch AGAIN, drinking on government property lmao, drunk reader, suggestive comments

wc: 3.2k

You were restless, to put it simply. Every conceivable activity within the BAU had been exhausted, and you had explored every nock and cranny of the office, leaving no corner untouched. At this point they should start paying you for tour guides because you'd be an expert.

You were bored, frankly, and lonely--the team had been on a case all week and you were stuck here. How Garcia managed was beyond you--the walls seemed to close in on you as stir craziness took hold. You kept busy with work, offering as much help as possible while staying put, but it really wasn't the same.

You missed the team, and a particular member's absence you felt just a tad more, though you wouldn't admit it. Thankfully, they were supposed to be back any second now. While Penelope had a special place in your heart, the thought of sitting through another round of her and Kevin's awkward flirting was almost too much to bear. Without Hotch to keep it in check, it was all the more excruciating.

"Bye, Kevin," you chimed in unison, your voices intertwining just as the door clicked shut behind him.

Once you were sure he wasn't coming back, you shot Pen a knowing glance, arching an eyebrow as you pointed one of her fuzzy pens at her.

"Ease up on the death stare, will ya?" Penelope chided, as she wheeled her chair back to her computers, her finger twirling towards you. "You get so broody when the boss man's gone."

You lobbed the pen in Penelope's direction. "No," you replied with a huff. "I get broody when the whole team leaves me behind."

"Gasp," Penelope declared, placing a hand over her heart. "Can you believe it? They're genuinely concerned for your well-being. The audacity!"

"Okay, but seriously, what's the bigger priority here--my life or my sanity? Because it's a fine line," you said with a shrug, pushing your chair back dramatically.

But, before the chair could gain any momentum, you found yourself abruptly against the wall, your head cushioned by an unexpected softness. Without a moment to comprehend, your chair was spun, your eyes growing impossibly wide as Hotch's belt appeared abruptly in your line of sight. You raised your eyes to meet his.

"Your life, I would wager," he said evenly, "but then again, I might be a little biased."

You sprang to your feet, too quickly, your foot catching, sending you lurching forward. Almost instantly, Hotch's hand was securing around your arm, preventing you from landing straight on your face.

"Oh, Hotch, sir, hi," you said, flustered and slightly disoriented. "I didn't realize you guys were back."

"We just got back," he said, his hand falling away from your arm, and you hated yourself for how you felt a subtle coolness that replaced the comforting heat of his touch. "Do you have those reports I asked for?"

"Oh, absolutely, they're ready at my desk," you assure. "I'll bring them to your office in a sec."

As he nods and exits, your scoop up your belongings from Penelope's desk, raising a finger. "Don't even say it, Pen."

You ignored the way she cackled as you left, moving to your desk to grab the needed papers. You attention was captured by Spencer and Emily standing by her desk. Without a second thought, you wrapped your arms around them both, pressing them against you.

"Ugh, I missed you guys so much."

They both laugh, their hands taking you in quickly as you lean against them.

Emily grins, ruffling your hair as she nudges you. "A week away and you're this clingy? We'll have the start weaning you off us, huh?"

"Don't tease," Spencer starts, his hand resting on your shoulder, "But out of curiosity, how many times did you check our desks while we were gone?"

"Too many times to count," you admit begrudgingly, a sheepish grin on your face. As you glance up, your eyes catch Hotch's through the glass pane. "Oops, almost forgot why I came down here."

Approaching Hotch's office, you tap on the door frame and enter. "Here ya go, sir." you offer, extending the documents toward him.

Your fingers lightly touch as he takes the papers, and for a moment, you're rooted to the spot, the brief contact sparking a surge of disarray in your senses. God, it's almost beyond belief that one man could have this kind of effect on you.

Hotch nods his acknowledgement. "Thanks," he murmurs. As you pivot to leave, he adds, "Could you sit down for a moment?"

You cast a teasing look over your shoulder. "I hope I'm not in trouble," you say. His expression doesn't change. "Wait, am I? Because that would definitely be enough to push me over the edge, sir."

"No, you're not in trouble," Hotch assures you. "I've received updates concerning your case."

You lowered yourself into the chair, hands perched in your lap, your eyes wide as you met his gaze. "Please tell me it's good news because I'm starting to forget what my own bed feels like."

"You've been here just over a week," Hotch states, matter-of-fact.

You blow out a breath, arms crossed over your chest. "Hotch, it's scary at night."

He clears his throat, "Anyway, it's good news. We've got a lead on the hitman, though it's not the all-clear you're wanting."

"Well, that's something at least," you concede with a nod. "But I don't get why I can't be involved in this investigation."

As Hotch opens his mouth, you jump in, deepening your voice to copy his. "Because you're too close to it."

He regards you steadily, clearly not amused.

"Yup, okay, I'm done, sorry, I'm leaving now," you relent, getting to your feet quickly and striding towards the door, but a hand beats you to it, closing it abruptly and effectively barricading you in.

With a quick turn, you ended up flush against the door, Hotch's hand resting against the wood just above your ear. You felt like you were short-circuiting, your eyes growing wide as they met his. He says your name, but it doesn't quite register--too engrossed in the heady scent of his cologne, the pressing warmth of his body, the nearness of his chest, so close that an inch's movement could mean a soft kiss to his neck. Not like that would be totally inappropriate or anything.

"What?"

"I said, I'm worried about you."

You wanted to kiss him, man, you really wanted to kiss him. You bit the inside of your cheek to refrain from doing so.

"Why?"

It was barely audible, more air than sound, not daring to disturb the space too much, afraid of him suddenly becoming aware of just how close he was.

"You're very quick to make light of things, to make jokes, but I'm asking you to be real with me here. What are you feeling?"

His hand left the door, settling on your shoulder, his thumb hovering just shy of the hollow of your neck. Unconsciously, you found yourself leaning into the gentle pressure.

"That sounded sarcastic, Hotch," you noted, your tongue briefly sweeping across your lips, which seemed to dry out as you talked. "You're not implying my jokes need work, are you?"

His lack of response and narrowing eyes made you cave.

"Okay, fine, Hotch. You want the truth? I'm scared, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? That I have nightmares every night? That I can't sleep?"

Your breaths came faster, teeth meshing tightly as you stared up at your boss. His hand found your cheek, his thumb sketching a path across your skin that ignited a trail of goosebumps over your whole body, making you hyper-aware of your every pore.

"What can I do to help?"

Stay with you, kiss you, fuck you--numerous thoughts ran raced through your thoughts, but none of them seemed wholly appropriate.

"N-Nothing, Hotch, really, I'm okay. It's not something that can be fixed, which is why I didn't say anything. Plus, everyone on this team has been through worse. I can handle it. I'm tougher than I look."

"I know you are, but I—," his words were cut short, a sudden knock at the door silencing him mid-sentence.

His hands fell away from you, but the sensation lingered, the heat of his touch seeming to brand you, marking where he had been. You ran a hand through your hair in an attempt regain some form of composure, just as he opened the door to reveal JJ.

Her eyes darted between the two of you, finally focusing on Hotch. "Sorry, guys, I have that footage from the press conference--is that what you needed?"

"Yes, right." Hotch nodded, pulling the door open further for her, then returning his attention to you, observing your flushed cheeks and uneven breath. "We'll continue this later, okay?"

"Yeah," you exhaled sharply before ducking out of the room.

You need to get a grip, or maybe a Xanax, probably both.

Once the office had emptied, leaving you alone, you sat pitifully on your bed. It was Friday, but there was not much cause for celebration when you were stuck here, surrounded by stale office air. You sprawled out on the mattress, tracing the patterns of the popcorn ceiling overhead. If someone didn't figure out this hitman situation, you were going to take him out yourself.

Not really, that would definitely be a death wish. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of muffled shuffling outside your door. Sitting up, you slid into your slippers and stepped out into the hallway.

"There she is!"

You snickered as Penelope extended her arms with jazz hands, while JJ and Emily lifted their arms to show off their wine stash. Gratefully grabbing a glass from Emily, you pulled them all into a group hug. "I can't help but feel like we're about to be the subject of a very specific memo from HR after this."

Giggles from JJ accompanied the wine pouring as you stepped back. "Hotch is surprisingly on board we this—encouraged it even. Can you believe it?"

Warmth dusted over your cheeks at the thought. You wanted to kiss him even more, if that was even possible.

"Trust me," Penelope insisted, shaking her head as she paused for a drink. "I wouldn't dare cross HR again. Once was more than enough."

You wanted to say you were a classy gal, confident in your ability to drink responsibly--it was only wine, after all, not Everclear. But as the night went on, your voice rose a decibel too high, your balance a bit unreliable, and your displays of affection way too unrestrained.

You were already a touchy person, ask any of your team members, but with a few drinks, you're giving high school sweethearts a run for their money in the PDA department.

Your arms were flung around JJ's neck, peppering her cheek with kisses as you sang along to whatever music Pen was playing in between smooches. JJ was laughing, tilting backward on her heels, nearly knocking you both over.

"I love you guys. So so much." you said, each word stretched and muddled as you reached out to Penelope, who happily linked her fingers with yours.

"You are so drunk!" Emily accused, her palms squishing your face as she chuckled.

"'M not," you protested, words stifled by compressed cheeks.

She freed your face to grab more wine, Penelope not far behind, as you situated yourself on your desk chair.

"You know who I also love?" you questioned to no one in particular as you slid your phone out of your back pocket. "Morgan, Reid, Dave, and--,"

You paused, your nose crinkling as you bit down hard on your tongue.

"And?" Penelope pressed, brows raised as she looked at you expectedly.

"Hmm?" You hummed innocently, blowing a kiss her way as you shrugged off her question. "I'm gonna call Morgan."

Your eyes darted down to your phone, only to find the room swirling like a carousel. It took a heartbeat to register--someone's voice was already coming from the speaker.

"Hello? Morgan? How'd you know I was going to call you?"

"It's Hotch."

Your eyes grew comically large, a hand flying over your mouth, smothering the laughter that threatened to fall. "Hotch! It is so late! Why are you calling me?"

You shushed the group with a finger to your lips, the girls' curious eyes on you as JJ practically crawled towards you to eavesdrop.

"You called me." He paused. "Are you okay?"

"Hotch," his name was more of a whine than anything as you tossed your head back. "I'm fine, like, the definition of A-Okay. I'm with my friends and we're all kinds of okay."

You shot Emily a thumbs up.

"Good. Okay." Another pause. "Maybe drink some water, yeah? No more wine."

You gasped. "Agent Hotchner, I am a federal agent of the government. I know when I should be cut off."

"Oh, my god, get her off the phone."

You don't know who said it, but it sent you spiraling into another round of giggles, the phone slipping through your fingers while JJ pounced on it.

"Hey!"

She held up a hand, keeping the device just out of reach.

"Yeah, she's pretty drunk." JJ said, then frowned. "Hotch, listen she's more of a lightweight than we realized." You slumped against the chair. "Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir."

JJ ended the call and placed it back into your hands. "I cannot wait until you remember this in the morning," she sang, before casting a glance to the others. "Also, a heads-up--Will's almost here."

"No!" It came out louder than intended, almost a shout, as you stood, sending Spencer's pens tumbling. "Whoopsie." You latched onto Penelope, murmuring, "Stay here, don't leave me."

Penelope's laughter rang out, her hands cradling your head. "Worry not, I've set the security guy straight--if you get even a scratch, I'll make him regret the day he was born."

"See, this is why you're my favorite," you whispered.

"Heard that."

Will eventually texted JJ, letting her know he had arrived. As the they waited by the elevator, the doors slid open to reveal Hotch standing there. A squeal escaped you, matched by his single raised eyebrow surveying your condition.

Your cheeks were painted a rosy tint, hair in a delightful tangle, and your shirt hanging askew off your shoulder--you were an adorable spectacle of disorder, and he found himself suppressing the small smile that threatened to reveal his amusement as the other girls filed into the elevator.

He had made them promise not to leave until he got there, not keen on the idea of you being left alone like this. It might have been an exaggeration, but when you butt dialed him and he heard the sound of your slurred speech it had him envisioning all sorts of worst-case scenarios. Sure, he had seen you drink during team nights out, but nothing like this.

"Hotch!" You shouted, moving to him with a rapidity that might be, well definitely, was ill-advised.

He stood motionless as you looped your arms around his neck. You smelled so nice--a sweet hint of vanilla instead of the anticipated alcohol. After a brief hesitation, his hands slowly found their way to your waist.

"What are you doing here, silly?" You ask, pulling back just enough to see his face. "Wait a second, please don't say we have a case."

A subtle smile played on his face, his hand not budging from your back. "No, there's no case."

"Oh, good," you murmured, your head bobbing lightly in approval. The light touch of your fingers at the base of his neck spread a warmth through him. "You want a drink? I think there's still some wine left."

"No, I'm fine," he said, clearing his throat and taking a step back. "I think you need to get to bed."

Your hands lingered at his neck, softly exploring his hair as you looked up with a smile that made his pulse race unexpectedly.

"Is that an order as my boss or a suggestion as my friend?"

He raised his brow. "Both?"

"Well, okay," you shrugged as you took a step back. "Wanna see my room? I don't think you've seen it yet. Everyone else has."

Without giving him a chance to object, you dashed down the hallway. He trailed behind with reluctance, knowing just how dangerous this could be for him. He was all too aware that he shouldn't be here, let alone in your room in your current, wine-fueled state.

You fumbled for the light, fingers slipping before finding the switch as you stumbled into the cramped room. It was pink. Very pink. The pullout couch was lost beneath a mountain of pillows, excessive by any standard. Your closet was bursting, and a collection of gadgets and gizmos had overtaken the room, but he liked it, a lot.

Your collapse onto the bed sent pillows scattering to the floor, his mind wandered about the unseen details of your bedroom at home, and even more so, the thought of what a shared space between you two might look like.

A sigh escaped him as he stood over you. "How about changing into your pajamas first, hm?"

"No thank you."

"You're going to hate yourself if you wake up in jeans tomorrow."

"Fine." You pouted, propping yourself up on your elbows. "Top right drawer please."

He shot you a look but obliged anyway. There was something about that puckered out bottom lip that made him think he'd do just about anything you asked, like he was putty in your hands. Pulling out the most conservative pair of pajamas from the sparse selection, he made a mental note to ask about that later.

"Thank you," you said with a smile. He really liked your smile. "You know, you're really such a nice person, Hotch. Or—Can I call you Aaron? Just tonight?"

He felt a sudden emptiness in his chest as the air was knocked out. "You can call me Aaron. Just tonight."

A high-pitched squeal escaped you as you began shedding your clothes. He offered a stifled cough, quickly averting his gaze and nudging the door closed with his free hand.

"Well, Aaron," you said plainly, "I really like you."

The effort it took for him not to pivot on his heel was immense, particularly when your voice sweetened like honey at the mention of his name.

"You're a great boss."

"I like you too, Agent."

"No, you don't, well, I mean—you can turn around now," you said. "You like me, but I really like you. It's not the same."

As he turned to face you, he could sense his cock twitching in his pants, a physical reaction to the sight of you fumbling with your shirt, your tits exposed in full view, as if begging to be touched.

"Christ," he hissed, gripping the ends of your shirt and yanking down. He was sure you were going to hate yourself in the morning. "You're not making sense, and I think you need to sleep it off."

"Yeah," you replied, your eyes warmly meeting his as you gave him a lopsided smile. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you in such casual clothes, Aaron. You look very handsome."

He needed to get you to bed before he did something he'd regret. He softly nudged your shoulders backward, offering no verbal response. You surrendered to the motion with complaint, your remaining strength insufficient for anything else.

Softly, he settled to blankets around you, taking a moment to study you, with the intention of memorizing you completely (even the part of you that was far too drunk).

"Goodnight, Aaron."

He summoned all his restraint to keep from crashing his lips into yours. He smoothed back your hair, allowing himself that as he shot you a tired smile. "Goodnight."

He hadn't even touched the doorknob when your plea reached his ears. "Aaron, I—, will you stay with me?"

And who was he to deny you anything?

next part!

taglist: @chronicallybubbly

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotchner #ssa hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #Spotify

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halfmoonshines · 1 year

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Sweater Weather

summary; bucky barnes x reader but reader is obsessed with spooky season

fluff fluff fluff

After three years together, Bucky knew when to be prepared for each seasons decorations to make their appearance. November first for Christmas, February first for Valentines day; but the far and above winner was September first for Halloween. And when you decorated for Halloween the house was almost unrecognizable.

This year you'd started a bit early, either because the weather had tipped or Bucky had been gone on a mission for a week. Either way when he stumbled in the door at 2am on the 31st of August, the wall of fake spiderwebs he ran into almost had him screaming.

He was a little jumpy after missions, okay?

He found you still awake in the living room, wrapped up in a blanket that you thought could hide you from the demons in the movie you were watching.

"Bit early isn't it, Doll?"

His voice almost made you jump out of your skin, but that didn't stop your excitement at his arrival home. You were in his arms in the blink of an eye, face burrowed into his shoulder when you replied.

"It's spooky season, Buck."

---

"Can we please grab this? It's a whole different scent."

Falling leaves accompanied shopping for things that smelled like fallen leaves, that was in Bucky's 'Autumn Girlfiend' guide. You were holding an apple-pumpkin candle out to him, the three wicks staring at him tauntingly.

He was sure that you had three candles with the same scent, or a mixture, at home already. But if all it took were some smells to keep that smile on your face he would buy you the whole store. Not that he'd tell you that.

----

He had never seen you this sad on Halloween before, it was like a sacred thing for you. But this was your first year in the new house, and so far it was just passed 8pm and you hadn't received any trick or treaters.

You sat on the couch with a mostly untouched bowl of candy next to you, the only stray wrappers from the ones you'd succumbed and eaten yourself. Bucky stood in the entryway, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

This simply wouldn't do.

He sent off a quick text before coming to join you on the couch, arms pulling you into his chest so you could sit together. "Why don't we watch The Conjuring?"

He could see your spirits lift when you asked. "Really?"

"Of course. Go make us some popcorn, I'll get us set up."

The return text came as you entered the kitchen, his team as quick as he ever needed.

The knock on the door sounded as you were walking back to the couch, popcorn forgotten you quickly set it to the side and grabbed the big bowl of candy. "Trick or treaters, Buck!"

"Trick or treat!" A chorus of decidedly adult voices sprang from the front door when you opened it. It was most of Bucky and yours friends; Steve, Sam, Nat - all dressed up in the most cliche Halloween costumes.

"So, do I get candy?" Sam's Batman outfit definitely called for some candy.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"We couldn't let you not have a fun Halloween." Nat said as she pushed her way in, the boys following behind her.

You glanced at Bucky, sure that it was his diabolical plan. His serene smile met yours and in that moment you remembered every reason you loved the man.

"Happy spooky season, babe. Lets watch that movie."

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female character #bucky barnes fluff #my works

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findmeinthefallair · 1 year

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Hunter's Experiences After Belos's Death

Oops, this got long. Aw well, it was really fun to write.

Special thanks to @ashanimus!

This is speculative at the end of the day, but since:

1. This is my fave animated show of all time

2. I grew up with Complex PTSD (CPTSD) like Hunter

3. I work as a therapist,

I thought to list down some things I can visualize happening in the duration of the finale's timeskip, before that beautiful epilogue we saw. And I want to dive in using whatever clues, leads and parallels I can find in canon: to analyze and see how he went from the Bad But Sad Boy to that peaceful-looking palisman carver in the epilogue.

A small reference I had for this meta is Cinema Therapy's episode on the Hunger Games movies (link), since the protagonist, Katniss Everdeen, from the book and also movie trilogy would have the same diagnosis as Hunter. Those books and movies explored how Katniss coped with the frightening and dramatically different landscape that was the calmness of her world post-victory.

Part 1: His Possible Experiences Leading Up to Seeking a Therapist

His disposition could possibly become like Luz's from early Season 3: a state of emotionally shutting down and numbing out. He appeared to nearly head in this direction right after he was revived by Flapjack, as he began to cry. There was that small window where he could have expressed more tears than he did, and have his body shut down under the weight of bereavement.

But the immediate physical threat, Belos, was still on the run. He got up, sprang into action and didn't catch a break from the time he followed Belos through the portal until he stood in The Collector's palace after Belos died (had he even received the news of his 'Uncle' dying yet??!).

Now that Belos isn't around anymore, the Isles will have a completely different feel and rebuilding the land would've taken grueling work after the dismantling of a damaging Coven System.

I was looking at Luz's behavior and gestures in Thanks to Them, which were indicative of her sinking into depression after 1. the horrible revelation in Hollow Mind that she unintentionally helped Philip. 2. witnessing Flapjack's death. I'm putting screenshots of her below in parallel with Hunter's own emotions in For the Future:

They have different mental health conditions if you talk symptoms, e.g. Luz doesn't show signs of CPTSD hypervigilance, while Hunter doesn't have that slowing down in his physical and mental activity which points to depression. But both have suffered from moral injury thanks to Belos's violence and manipulation.

However, a major comparison is that Hunter has had much more repressed emotion over a long period compared to Luz. The column with Hunter screencaps above, is what he may feel with a much higher intensity in the weeks and months after he first hears that his abuser has passed on.

Shown below, the few seconds of Hunter's big smile drooping when it was all over, was a big hint for me:

A hint that there is a deep undercurrent of emotions he'd much rather not feel, that he'd probably rather hide from himself. Even while smiling, we know how his heart-wrenching story has played out and the light in his eyes here doesn't match the brightness we see in his expressions in the epilogue, post-timeskip.

That is the face of a kid who has not cried out massive amounts of tears yet. He doesn't look like he's carrying a light load yet, compared to what we see in his future self. And it's certainly a heavier smile than the jollier one he makes here right after King's Tide when Flapjack was still around:

I can't imagine the amount of grief that his body has yet to dredge up and release, once he finally doesn't have to worry about his 'uncle' threatening his life anymore. Too many times to count, I've been in the situation where I cry intensely after being retraumatized and think "Huh? More tears? Where did it come from?? I thought I had cried it all out from my whole being the last time!". It kind of convinced me that anyone with CPTSD has so much grief stored up in their body that the number of times needed to have a good cry feels like a really endless expanse.

However: because I had 7 years of being in and out of therapy, what matters is that the durations between these episodes of mine, the durations of the episodes themselves, plus their intensity have reduced a lot. It was around a 4-year timeskip in the finale, so for Hunter to get as far as he did to heal, his own therapy sessions would've probably been rigorous and very consistent.

Anyway, he might now cycle through his own version of what Luz cycled through when she gradually shuts down from failing to build a new portal door in Thanks to Them, continually believes she's as bad as Belos, and when she alludes to her suicidal ideation in the classroom:

whereby there is a likely parallel between Luz wrestling with guilt from her own moral injury, and Hunter's own guilt from what he wished he could've done to prevent being possessed, to prevent Flapjack from dying. Both their situations are that of moral injuries.

The adrenaline rush would be over for everyone on the Isles.

I'm quite sure the therapists on the Isles will operate pretty soon after the news about Belos's death was out. They would conduct whatever version of mental health triage they have, that involves risk assessments and crisis counselling. Both of these based on what I've learnt are shorter in duration (30 minutes) and are one-off sessions, compared to regular talk therapy which is an hour minimum.

The therapists would be redirecting people to necessary resources e.g. where to find food or loved ones, and managing distress only related to people's immediate needs instead of forming a longer term plan for several weekly sessions.

I believe things are simpler when you are running away from an external threat, like the two Hunter scenarios below. In Hollow Mind there is no emotion on his face because in peak C-PTSD mode he has shut down his emotions to pour that energy into escaping Belos. In Thanks to Them, he appears quite obviously scared with widened eyes because he got comfortable with safety for months and Belos's return was a surprise attack (thanks ashanimus for pointing out to me how his expressions are animated!):

But what is there to run from now? Not an external threat for sure. The war zone is now the one in his mind, heart and soul and it would become front and center. I believe both these screenshots are two notches on a dial, and the missing third image - which would show him finding it difficult to stuff down the grief any longer, might look like a more exasperated version of when he told Willow "Please don't call yourself [a Half-a-Witch] ever again" in For the Future, and eventually a more depressed version of his vanishing smile in The Collector's Palace.

When can he really run from himself? Only while asleep, if he's spared nightmares on any given night, or while distracting himself with the main mission of rebuilding the Isles or continuing to bond with his friends and other people.

His anger in For the Future was a telling sign for me that he made sure his focus was still on an external threat: he still had the opportunity to do so back then, because Belos was still alive. But when we see him in The Collector's palace sending Willow off to her dads, there has realistically been a shift in what will threaten the more fragile shreds of inner peace he's still clinging on to. There are those scary trauma-related emotions to worry about, which wouldn't have just evaporated into thin air. They would be looking for a new outlet, and they'll find their way into flashbacks, nightmares, tension still stored in the body, an exaggerated startle response, etc.

We have seen a range of reactions he has to danger, triggers and emotional pain: some involve moving his body more, and fewer involve a short of shutting down:

Flinching during Belos's tantrums, being able to fight Kikimora calmly, freezing up in the throne room (Hunting Palismen)

Suicidal ideation and even a sort of suicide plan (Eclipse Lake)

Freezing up and expecting punishment from Darius (Any Sport in a Storm)

Being able to stay almost entirely calm as he learnt more and more of the truth about Belos, though his hand was shaking briefly, then a panic attack later on (Hollow Mind)

Lots of avoidance symptoms like numbing, combined with hypervigilance e.g. shivering and another panic attack (Labyrinth Runners)

Feeling fear with underlying shame and subconsciously expecting punishment, when he failed to save Luz (Clouds on the Horizon)

Freezing and recoiling, though he fought against this by asserting a boundary with Belos (King's Tide)

Panic attack when looking into the mirror and having an emotional flashback, hypervigilance e.g. stamping his foot and shivering (Thanks to Them)

Anger and rage to cope with bereavement, later being tearful (For the Future)

Most likely a sense of bereavement, deep exhaustion and possibly loneliness, during that briefly shown moment in The Collector's Palace (Watching and Dreaming)

The serious work he has to put in to heal from his trauma would begin once his whole body gives in to the exhaustion, catching up with the bereavement-related emotions that have also begun to settle in. It could be a massive emotional and physical collapse that he can't fight off, where his physical energy levels become tanked seemingly out of nowhere. And I think it would look like a worse version of him lying in his makeshift grave, where he is barely able to move around the house or anywhere for some time.

This happened to Katniss in the Hunger Games trilogy, and while the portrayal was done differently in the books and movies, both were good explorations of what it's like to shift from the default high alert (and long-term) mode of CPTSD to coping with the scary unknown world of newfound safety. Katniss spent her childhood in poverty and being constantly on edge that she might be chosen for the Hunger Games, being parentified, to provide for her family.

While participating in the games, she had to utilize battle skills and kill others to survive and sustained many injuries, still constantly on high alert whereby any respite would last for incredibly short durations. Towards the end of the story, after she loses the one she loved most (her sister Prim, who I think can be a parallel of Flapjack in this meta), Katniss shifts from peak physical activity into mostly sleeping and being actively suicidal for months, hardly moving and not leaving the house, until the shock of traumatic grief began to wear off. She absolutely crashed and went from one extreme to the other. In the movie Mockingjay Part 2, they added a non-book scene where her grief comes out in an outburst when she sees their pet cat hanging around on the kitchen counter. She flings an object in the cat's direction, then screams "[Prim] is gone!!" repeatedly before collapsing into heavy sobs, picking up the cat and holding it to her chest to soothe herself.

This kind of major collapse might happen very soon to Hunter after he leaves The Collector's Palace or only after some weeks. The timing of this, I can't predict. The reason why he didn't appear to have this issue in the early months being in the human realm is because there was still something external to concentrate on: help his friends get back to the Human Realm, help Luz reunite with Eda and King, while him and Flapjack hoped to go home too.

You could argue that even now, he still has something external to focus on i.e. helping the others rebuild the Isles. However I keep imagining that the people who love him are going to be quite adamant in getting him, Luz and the other kids to please rest. Since we saw Steve recommend his therapist to Lilith in O Titan Where Art Thou, I can picture the adults in particular monitoring how Hunter is doing without Flapjack.

But if this collapse I'm speculating about doesn't happen so soon, he would be pouring himself into helping others, referencing his character-centric line all the way back in Hunting Palismen about wanting to offer help, which he utters twice in that episode. There is an overlap between this expectation he has of himself and the old habit he's at risk of falling back into periodically: overworking.

Once his desire to help others is clearly comes across as an avoidance tactic on the outside - a maladaptive coping mechanism to run from the very difficult emotions that he should be processing - people around him are definitely going to set boundaries and say "No" to any attempts he makes to assist them. Someone is probably going to tell him that whatever desperation he is showing in wanting to help other people, needs to be redirected at himself. Making time and space for himself, taking time off to rest.

Him suffering from a major emotional and physical collapse is pretty likely because things are more complicated (though, physically much much safer) for him now than at the beginning of Thanks to Them when he had just fled from Belos to the human realm, and had Flapjack as his closest company. Fast forward to the victory won in Watching and Dreaming: both Flapjack and Belos are gone now.

It's telling that different thoughts are occupying Hunter's mind now, from how his expressions are drawn during his first days in the human realm vs. when peace is restored in the Isles.

1. See the sense of calmer urgency in his expression, putting the mission of building the portal door first, while experiencing a strong sense of togetherness with his friends, and learning to trust Camila who is treating him well:

compared to

2. the sheer exhaustion and feeling of "What now...?" (see his upper eyelids below?) that set in, once he helped Willow find her parents and there was no more task at hand that didn't involve himself. His bright smile from a split-second ago has drooped and disappeared:

I know that right after the above frame, Darius and Eberwolf reunited with him, but his emotions are going to cycle up and down in the hours, weeks and months ahead. The elation from seeing Darius and Eber - people who were there to greet him when he expected nobody to turn up - is not going to last, though it will certainly come and go, because high-running positive emotions like that don't last as long, especially in the context of the life he's had as a child soldier. It's totally possible that on the same night, hours after this reunion with their loved ones, their emotions will shift drastically.

The tired look in his eyes above and the sad face he then makes, is in between two moments of him having something external to focus on (Willow and then Darius). I'm inclined to think that the above depressed look reflects a lot of the complexity that is going on underneath the surface. What is his state of mind when alone with his thoughts, when he has zero tasks to perform? How is he handling those thoughts?

There will be a deep, sometimes mind-numbing sense of bereavement over two significant figures in his life. First Flapjack, now this:

He used to love Belos. But I'm really not sure he can just uproot that love from deep within and discard it. Hunter carries memories like the following ones around which will be confusing to navigate on tougher days, despite being able to tell Luz "That's what Belos does, he tricks people". Because these were his formative years:

and something tells me that Philip was cunning enough to strike a delicate balance between being 'nice' to Hunter like above, versus unleashing his violent temper to terrify and harm him. Making sure that balance was so close to 50/50 that it would leave a child very confused. So confused he would rather believe he's never good enough rather than the more frightening prospect that his so-called family does not actually love him at all.

Hunter will have a moment now and then of still missing the 'niceness' that his 'uncle' showed towards him (felt in his heart and subconscious), while still knowing (in his head, rationally) that Philip was not genuine when treating him that way.

To note though, he did not witness Belos's death which reduces the severity of intrusive images that the poor kid would see in his mind.

What I'm worried about is how he'll handle the news about the grimwalker graveyard, since I'm sure that location is going to be scoured and Darius would want to give his mentor a proper sending off. They'd want to give all the Golden Guards and Caleb a sending off and pay their respects. This might add to what I suspect will be the messed up depression he'll fall into.

It will be very confusing and emotionally disorienting, literally not needing to worry about anyone killing him anymore. He has had no point of reference for this in his life at all. It might possibly the furthest he ever goes from that primal survival instinct he had while living in the Castle for so long, which took up the majority of his life so far:

There will also be the added layer of how he feels about those first emotions. This is literally a concept called Feelings About Feelings and it's a key part of my work since I use the Satir Model in my style of counselling. We don't just feel emotions, we also tack on our own judgments and evaluations about them. E.g. shame about feeling anger, guilt about feeling sad because of burdening others, or even a combination like fear about feeling joy which can show up in healing from bereavement.

Depending on how we feel about whichever emotions got there first, it makes a difference because we could be adding or subtracting unnecessary suffering from the first emotion, especially if the first emotion is an already unpleasant one.

I have a feeling that we'd see Hunter look very very tired, till he makes breakthroughs in therapy. A tiredness that sleep, a healthy diet and exercise alone simply cannot fix. Because there's an entire upbringing in the Emperor's Coven to sort through in his head, this time not combined with the avoidance of having fled to the human realm and living under one roof with his friends.

The Hexsquad are not living under the same roof anymore, they are reunited with their own families with much to emotionally talk out, and the group no longer has a very urgent single collective mission. Sure, Hunter has an active role to play in rebuilding the Isles, but what about rebuilding his very self? He has the steepest climb, because we have seen the symptoms he exhibits.

Most of all, referencing a section of my Retraumatization and Self-Soothing (Part 1) meta (link), a memory as horrible as this:

will likely be the most intrusive image is going to be replaying again and again over the months to come, and it may flood his thoughts during moments of being triggered or even out of nowhere during quiet moments for no apparent reason. It will be just like a broken record, where the same small excerpt of a song loops endlessly until the needle of the gramophone is repositioned.

It was remarkably poignant that his final words to Belos were "And most of all, I'm going to make sure you never hurt anyone again", and I'm happy with the story keeping it this way and understand why the writers likely made this decision - not just because the season was shortened. Hunter did not need to directly see or hear more from Belos in close quarters, not after his abuser minimized his needs for years, gaslit him, possessed him and got him to murder his best friend with his own hands.

It's more straightforward to make sure someone else isn't hurting anyone. It's easier to think of what plans to implement, when it comes to him protecting others: which he has had plenty of practice with. Because those are practical methods that we can see in action on the outside.

But here's the kicker: what about applying that last grand statement from his TTT speech to himself, emotionally: making sure he isn't psychologically hurting himself with harmful unhelpful thoughts and beliefs, after Belos's death? "I'll make sure I don't hurt myself (and by extension, my loved ones) again".

This will be very new to him, and it is a theme that I handle in pretty much every client case in my therapy work. The client's self-dialogue, the self-compassion or lack thereof. Which, in real life, is often not a concept that our own families and schools introduce to us to be familiar with.

For Hunter, this may translate into him making the decision to get help and truly accepting the gift of life that Flapjack gave him.

Basically this on a much bigger scale:

whereby in Flapjack's absence, he can truly believe in this new and positive fundamental belief about himself. The evidence that he managed to make it to that heartbreaking but incredibly beautiful place is pretty strong:

But before his happy ending, the pressure on himself to be useful to others via helping and working is likely going to come back and be used as his way of coping, and there's a chance it will cross the line into becoming a form of self-harm that he's relying on to avoid the frightening, deeper emotional pain. People around him know him well enough that they'll be able to spot his behavioral changes and then sense he is not going in a helpful direction. They'll see that it's hurting him even though it's the most familiar territory for his mind to be in, and someone is going to tell him to change that.

He's going to be seeing his friends with their palismen. How will it be like being among them, even if they are pretty good at supporting him? How would he attempt to make sense of the void that is the absence of the incredible love he experienced from that first friend, the absence of that mental link between witch and palisman?

What emotions could be lurking beneath the surface? Believe it or not, there are some signs from Luz's nightmare even though yes, Hunter was being controlled by The Collector. I wouldn't quickly dismiss this dark Flapjack-related scene as 100% being about The Collector's goal to scare Luz in the nightmare.

I think there was a smaller subplot going on as well.

The Collector needed material to work with in the first place, to perform the puppet acts: the material was whatever fears and whatever pain was already there in their targets.

The Collector didn't create Hunter's emotions from scratch for the puppet act; instead he manipulated and redirected what existed at the base level. All this wouldn't work as analogies of mental illness vs. mental health if The Collector could just engineer emotions on their own and simply replace whatever his puppet targets were already feeling. Emotions never vanish and always take up space somewhere, they are redirected, transformed or channeled into outlets even if it means they become repressed or locked away. But they never stop existing.

I have a feeling that despite the nightmare being Luz's, despite Hunter being used as an instrument for The Collector to achieve their goals...the pre-existing emotions that Hunter himself felt in his body, not puppet!Hunter's verbal responses towards Luz, were true. He is a haunted boi.

This face he makes above might be a hint at the worst of his pain. It might be the furthest he has felt from when he said "I like who I am right now" to Flapjack. In the place of that confidence from before, there might now be his own version of Luz's "I'm as bad as Belos". I cannot be entirely certain, but the negative belief that may have taken root in him could be "I am not deserving of the life Flapjack gave me".

Interestingly, if this is the case, it could easily parallel his line from all the way back in Any Sport in A Storm: "I'm unfit to wear the sigil of the Golden Guard." It's definitely a possibility, since Hunter is now faced with having a lot of time and space now, and less urgency than he's ever had in his life, to think back on all those times he helped to further Belos's cause. Especially when it came to sending many palismen to their deaths.

With his own palisman now dead, the engraving we would eventually see on Flapjack's grave: "Thank you for finding me", would be the destination. But the journey needed to reach that destination of amazing gratitude in the first place...must have been a harrowing one. In the early months of the acute grief, it would've been more like "Why did you have to find me?! You shouldn't have. Then none of this would've happened". Not forgetting the number of times Hunter has replayed in his head what he could've done differently, trying so desperately to rewind the clock and make that better alternate timeline a reality.

If you remove The Collector and even Luz from the equation in the Luz nightmare scene, Hunter may well be having such responses - the ones that puppet!Hunter directed at Luz to blame Luz - as a dialogue with himself. He might direct those negative emotions towards himself since he's so careful about hurting others and has taken on unfair punishment for so much of his life.

Even when he was temporarily himself, smiling, expressing a positive emotion to encourage Luz with "What's the first thing you do when you wake up from a bad dream?", that was him conversing with another person, someone external. Not his own self. I am willing to bet he wasn't at a point in his arc where he would smile at himself like that and easily encourage himself in the same way.

While we can be certain he had already reached his breakthroughs by the time we saw him post-timeskip, he has not experienced them yet in the frame above. He has not felt (yet) what Luz felt onscreen when she had breakthroughs in relation to her moral injury:

Taking a leap of faith to accept the Titan's gift, to trust that he chose her because she has a good heart and will never be Belos.

Then later, being able to stand firm, believing she truly is good ("I am the Good Witch Luz!"), and not uttering a word to Belos as he died - which was post-traumatic growth beyond how she broke down under his threats and manipulation towards the end of Hollow Mind and later in King's Tide.

Recap time. In the (quite likely) long period that passes by before we meet his new palismen, he's likely going to want to jump into action and attend meetings with Darius, Eberwolf and co, help to physically rebuild things and organize people with his own Coven Head experience. Leaning back on the ingrained and familiar lifestyle of pouring himself into work and gearing towards burnout is certainly a risk to watch out for.

The Hexsquad, CATTs and the Clawthorne sisters are going to notice his behavior and likely urge him to get appropriate rest and seek help.

However, there is the other extreme: Belos isn't around anymore to torment him, and Hunter would know this in the rational sense (head knowledge). Which leads to the possibility that he may swing towards shutting down as opposed to overworking tendencies. He would feel allowed to do whatever he wants, in this new Boiling Isles, and he had months of opportunities to do that in the early part of Thanks to Them before Belos's return.

What I'm getting at is, if he didn't sleep enough before, he might swing towards sleeping too much after finally collapsing from the familiarity of survival mode into unknown but genuinely safe territory. If he cared too much about helping others before, he might swing towards a depressive state of apathy (the closest canon reference point would be him digging his grave: he was very disarmed in that scene to even think much about helping anyone including Belos). This is why the screenshot I used of his smile drooping in The Collector's Palace, feels like a big clue to me. This would be where Darius, Camila and other adults have to seriously keep watch over him.

In the Cinema Therapy episode I had as a small reference for this post, the licensed therapist who hosts the series mentions that "It takes a lot longer to put oneself back together than it took to fall apart." In Hunter's case, the "falling apart" period here refers to that collapsing I mentioned. It would be the time between:

1. the grief hitting him in full force: when he subconsciously understands and acknowledges that Flapjack isn't coming back (which...will involve hell of a lot of wailing and sobbing. Him having a full version cry of those first few tears he shed at the end of TTT),

and

2. the time when the painful shock from feeling the full force of the grief has decreased enough that it plateaus.

This falling apart stage may need to pass before he seeks therapy. If he tries going for sessions while still going through that shock and pain, it might be too much for him.

As terrible and sad as it sounds, a deep dark spiral like this might be necessary. It would be his body and mind wanting to compensate for several years' worth of unnatural hypervigilance which wasn't serving him in a advantageous way (i.e. surviving) any longer. His body and mind begging for rest at last, to try and make sense of everything that happened. This big collapse into depression would empty out the old and free up much room in him for new stories, beliefs and perspectives to take root. Depression is, after all, the body's attempt to (maladaptively) try and protect us by numbing us, or else we would be overwhelmed.

As someone whom we know keeps himself very busy, this could be the period where he is the furthest he has ever been from that old simpler life. Because his CPTSD-ridden body would be demanding more than ever that he compensates for a childhood and teen years' lack of general rest, he may not even have the strength to cope the way he did before. The only way he might possibly cope in this period is to go with the flow of that raging current and do exactly what his body is asking of him: getting real rest.

Like what happened with Katniss in the Hunger Games trilogy, this early grieving stage would emotionally be difficult and terrifying, like walking along a tightrope, finding balance between left and right to angle yourself as straightly as possible and walk forward. (the tightrope metaphor is what I use with some of my clients to explain swinging between extremes of coping mechanisms).

The missing pieces of the puzzle in his arc, in the 4-year duration before the timeskip, might be his own version of these points in Luz's arc:

where she sank lower before she realized her deepest wish and emotionally experienced her worst fear in her Watching and Dreaming nightmare.

For Hunter, these could look like the following:

Like Luz saying it'd be better for everyone that she permanently stays in the human realm, Hunter might say he wants to remove himself from his loved ones in some way, for good. Whether a literal suicide attempt (like Katniss from The Hunger Games) or not, I can't say for sure.

A parental figure trying to reach out to him, saying he is deserving of Flapjack's gift. But he still struggles to believe that. What matters though is this parental figure is present and he's not pushing them away.

Him hearing some confirmation of his deepest negative belief about himself, in his own nightmares. Like Luz hearing the most terrifying things she could ever hear - Amity's "You've been the real villain this whole time" and "But for the sake of everyone you hurt, I challenge you to a witch's [duel]".

Him being able to reach an emotional space where he can begin to question that unhelpful belief: "Am I really deserving of Flapjack's gift?", or something similar.

The big moment when he finally tells someone how he really feels about the possession, Belos's death, Flapjack's absence in this new supposed peace and quiet....this would be the important invitation for the other person to connect and meet his emotional needs, and is a lot like how support groups for addiction work: a client needs to acknowledge that they are struggling with a problem, not avoiding it with distractions any longer, and then seek help and express their need for said help.

I suppose the question is how soon Hunter might decide to accept professional help and give it a go: or whether he'd have the genuine need for space first and say "I need some time". Because one's rational mind can be ready to go for therapy, but their subconscious and body would find it too unpleasant if it's too soon. Every part of him would have to be ready to begin putting himself back together after the falling apart stage occurs.

The messed up experience of CPTSD is that you stay shockingly calm during real danger, but on the flip side have big, disproportionate freakouts during actually safe times. Compare how calm Hunter was when he smiled at Luz in her nightmare while he was tied up with puppet strings vs. his fear and shame when he couldn't save Luz in Clouds on the Horizon.

In a CPTSD memoir I read, the author describes that it was horribly frightening to hear her partner be in a bad mood and wash the dishes more loudly than usual, while during the pandemic, she felt completely calm seeing empty shelves in a supermarket when she struggled to get supplies.

From my own experience, I have experienced being pretty damn calm when bleeding out and needing hospitalization. But in a different year before that, I recall one afternoon alone in my house right before a vacation where a strong gust of wind very loudly slammed an open door shut next to where I happened to be standing, and I broke down sobbing from a retraumatization via an emotional flashback. Because it felt extremely real as if my abusive parent was lashing out to physically hurt me.

After a 5-year period of mostly being in talk therapy, and then a 2-year period of regularly scheduled EMDR therapy, my response if I have a door loudly slam shut near me now would maybe be a smaller-scale flinch and a flash of anger that would last about maybe a minute. Which is miles better than sobbing for half an hour and being dissociated and frozen in a memory for hours before I thaw out of that flashback.

Since the show's writing is just that good, I could look at Luz's depressive symptoms manifesting in Thanks to Them and see a likely parallel in Hunter's story moving forward, since we know how much this show also digs neat and tidy parallels. These are characters written for TV after all, so they'd have to fit a formula to an extent, to have compelling arcs and reach high and low points along said arcs.

Part 2: Therapy Itself

Part 1 was the setup to give a good amount of context: now for the technicalities of the therapy sessions themselves:

Like Adrian Graye said in Labyrinth Runners, Illusion Magic can sort through memories. We have seen from Gus's own powerful Illusion abilities that he could do so with Belos. It makes sense that a therapist does this in sessions to have a magnified version of how in our world, therapists exercise empathy by imagining what it is like to be their clients:

I would monitor whether his mood (what he is feeling within) and affect (how the emotions appear on the outside e.g. tone of voice, face expressions) are congruent. Congruence usually means a client is in less distress. Incongruence might mean they are in so much pain that they can't connect directly with the main emotion: the perfect example of this being Hunter laughing when digging his grave.

We therapists take note of aspects such as affect, mood, the client's motor activity, any indicators of psychosis, even down to things like how untidy their hair looks in case we get clues about the severity of their issues (this is called a Mental Status Exam, and we write what we see in our case notes per session).

Because CPTSD is so relationship-centric, I'd discuss how he's getting along with new parental figures (the Belos replacements who will heal him so much and change his life forever!) and friends.

If the Boiling Isles therapists use their own equivalent of EMDR therapy, which is theorized to be like a waking version of how REM sleep and REM-related dreams help our brains to sort through memories, it sounds like a great fit for his case. This intervention involves subconscious work and could help him reshape how he experiences memories of Flapjack and Belos. EMDR clients are expected to see vivid images popping up without control in their mind during the sessions, and they are quite symbolic e.g. seeing a grey sky often indicates grief, seeing lighter colors indicates more calm. This technique helps a client's subconscious rewrite their story the way they'd like it to be, and install new positive beliefs and emotions over time.

My own example of EMDR experiences from the second half of 2019 as a client, is it majorly changed how I related to my own abuser, got me to finally feel allowed to emotionally break away from her, even though she is still alive and even lives in the same building.

In the early sessions, I saw an image of my 5-year-old self being forced to wear an ugly grey apron that my abuser used for baking. The apron is a real object, not fictional, and the emotions I felt showing up were matching with the image: feeling very uncomfortable seeing a visual representation of my abuser's hold over me.

But in a later session after a few months, guided by my therapist, I saw a vivid image of my abuser receiving a sea burial. She was lying peacefully on the water surface and sank down until she was gone. That was me subconsciously burying any expectation that she could ever provide what I needed. This was so powerful that I could go home after that session and permanently (so far) be significantly calmer around my abuser.

Therefore if Hunter goes through something like this, he'd potentially be able to put Belos to rest and have it feel very real and true: and have significantly reduced distress about Belos-related memories. There is the potential for powerful breakthroughs for him here, especially also related to Flapjack's death and how challenging it might be to carve palismen in the beginning. Especially since in the worst case scenario, even touching palistrom wood might be enough to badly trigger him. I cover this particular point a bit more in my other meta, Retraumatization and Self-Soothing (Part 1).

We would also be discussing what he's implementing into his routine and what may benefit him. I would be seeing if he is able to laugh about things, be motivated enough to be outdoors and among people, experience pleasure when creating new things, and form closer bonds with parental figures (what I just listed is to do with neurotransmitters in the brain that increase mental health: serotonin, endorphins, dopamine and oxytocin).

If I were his therapist I might suggest that whatever volunteering tasks he does, he carries those out with his friends, and time should be allocated to managing and taking care of a specific demographic: children. Because I think it'd be a safe, low stakes form of unfamiliarity for him to have enough emotional distance from his traumatic memories. Early months of acute grief usually require such emotional distance.

Having a good dose of an environment like that alongside the other tasks where he's working alongside Darius etc, could help him because kids' emotions are less complex, and their infectious laughter and fun-loving nature may play a role in helping him be more open with his own inner child. His therapist would be seeking to draw out that inner child in their sessions, and that little child would need to feel safe enough to emerge.

Importantly, his future palisman: it would've been interesting if he did what Luz did with Stringbean and allowed the palisman to be whoever they wanted to be...that would've been a nicely organic process. But even if he had a good idea to incorporate a Flapjack-like design but change details like the color, I'm sure he thought it through very well. I'm certain that this was a major topic of discussion at some stage of his therapy. Discussing the guilt he'd feel about replacing Flapjack vs. still taking Flapjack with him in a new way.

Coming from a strengths-based angle: paying attention to which of his individual strengths he is shows and recounts in the session. If he needs reminding, I could give him a simple worksheet listing various positive qualities and ask him to circle/colour in which ones he feels he has, which then prompts further discussion and questions. Lastly, a powerful tool called reframing e.g. if he says he's worried about being a nuisance to his friends, I'll point out how much he cares about their comfort and affirm that place of kindness.

Work on inviting self-compassion into how he sees himself. Is he able to view himself the way he views his friends? If he remembers the encouragement he gave to Luz about "turning on the light", I would ask him what that would look like in his own life, symbolically.

Hunter's own life has been a really really bad dream for a very long time. He himself has to reach for that light switch and choose to heal by embracing Flapjack's ultimate gift to him.

And we can rest assured that Hunter did that.

Because this post-traumatic growth right here?

This looks like multiple breakthroughs have taken place while he's been receiving consistent care from an excellent community. And there's no way it was an easily won victory. It has been very much hard-won, after how dark the story became in Hollow Mind and Thanks to Them, and it looks like whatever breakthroughs he had left him pleasantly surprised.

It doesn't seem like his heart and soul can contain this much joy and hope, without a very painful dismantling to have taken place first, to make room for the most unexpected treasures to fill his life back up.

The joy becomes even greater if you never would've expected it in your wildest dreams.

#toh hunter #toh analysis #toh spoilers #the owl house #loz writes a meta

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adrealucia · 2 months

Note

Do you think you could write a fic where sean rides a motorcycle and reader rides w/ him sometimes? fem reader pref but idm :) also I LOVE your fics they're so good it's crazy (specifically new beginnings aha) please and ty!

you guys are feeding me way too much... I love this concept so much! This was fun to write, I feel like it's a lil sad (mentions Sean's past) also tiny mention of a kiss, but still sfw :) also thank you so much, I am so glad you all like my fics <33

Heartbeats and Highways

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the small coastal town. The air was filled with the salty scent of the ocean and the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. Sean Diaz stood by his motorcycle, a sleek black machine that seemed to purr with anticipation. He ran a hand through his dark hair, his eyes scanning the horizon, waiting for you.

You appeared a moment later, your hair tousled by the breeze, a smile playing on your lips. "Hey, Sean," you called out, your voice filled with warmth and familiarity.

Sean's face lit up when he saw you. "Hey, you," he replied, his voice soft yet full of affection. He handed you a helmet, the same one you always used when you rode with him. "Ready for an adventure?"

You took the helmet, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment, sending a shiver down your spine. "Always," you said, your heart racing with excitement.

You climbed onto the motorcycle behind Sean, wrapping your arms around his waist. The warmth of his body and the solidness of his frame made you feel safe and secure. You rested your cheek against his back, feeling the vibration of the engine as he started the bike.

With a roar, the motorcycle sprang to life, and you were off, the world blurring around you as Sean expertly navigated the winding roads. The wind whipped through your hair, and you felt a sense of freedom that you only ever experienced on these rides with Sean.

As you rode, you couldn't help but think about how much had changed since you first met Sean. He had always been a bit of a loner, burdened by the responsibilities that life had thrown at him too soon. But somehow, the two of you had found each other, and in him, you had found a kindred spirit, someone who understood the complexities of life and still found moments of joy in the simple things.

After a while, Sean pulled over to a secluded spot overlooking the ocean. The sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, the sun dipping below the horizon. He turned off the engine, and the sudden silence was almost deafening.

You both climbed off the bike, and Sean took your hand, leading you to a spot where you could sit and watch the sunset. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, leaning your head on his shoulder. "Yeah, it is. But not as beautiful as this moment right now."

Sean smiled, his hand gently squeezing yours. "I'm glad you're here with me," he said. "I don't think I could have made it through everything without you."

You turned to look at him, your eyes locking onto his. "I'm always here for you, Sean. No matter what."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. It was a promise, a silent vow that whatever the future held, you would face it together.

As the last light of the sun faded, you sat there in the twilight, wrapped in each other's arms, knowing that no matter where the road took you, you would always have each other. And in that moment, everything felt right in the world.

Sean leaned back, his arm draped around your shoulders as you both gazed out at the horizon. He took a deep breath, his rough exterior melting away in your presence. "You know," he started, his voice a mix of confidence and vulnerability, "I wasn't always like this. Before everything went down, I was just a regular kid, trying to figure things out."

You turned to look at him, curiosity piqued. "What changed?"

He shrugged, his eyes darkening with memories. "Life, I guess. Losing Dad, having to take care of Daniel, running from the cops... It made me harden up. I had to be tough for him, for both of us. But sometimes... it's nice to let my guard down. Especially with you."

You squeezed his hand, your heart aching for all the pain he had endured. "You don't always have to be tough, Sean. It's okay to lean on me, too."

Sean chuckled softly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "You know, you're probably the only person who gets to see this side of me. The world sees this bad boy, this rebel on a bike. But with you... I'm just Sean."

"And I love you for that," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity. "I love all of you, Sean. The tough exterior, the soft heart, the way you care so deeply for the people you love. You're everything to me."

He pulled you closer, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "I love you too. More than I ever thought I could love anyone."

As the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, you sat there in Sean's arms, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours. The world might see him as a bad boy, but to you, he was so much more. He was your rock, your protector, your love. And you knew that as long as you had each other, you could face anything that came your way.

"Ready to head back?" Sean asked after a while, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

You nodded, reluctantly standing up and dusting off your jeans. "Yeah, let's go."

You both climbed back onto the motorcycle, and once again, you wrapped your arms around Sean's waist. As the engine roared to life, you felt that familiar thrill of excitement. You knew that wherever the road took you, as long as you were with Sean, it would be an adventure worth taking.

As the motorcycle sped down the winding roads, the wind whipping through your hair, you held onto Sean a little tighter, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. In that moment, with the open road ahead and the man you loved by your side, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

authors note: sean with a little bit of a bad boy image is everything I need. I am always happy to write more of this kind of stuff

#life is strange 2 #sean diaz #lis2 #lis2 sean #lis2 sean diaz #sean diaz x reader #fluff #angst #lis2 angst #lis2 fic #sean diaz headcanon #sean diaz motorcycle

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rk-tmblr · 2 months

Text

[REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS]

“Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss”

🥶🔪🩸💀

When Osamu snuck in through the back door, he didn’t question how much wealthier the house was; that was the whole point of this job—to scrape together a small sum. He crept through the shadows of the dark living room, biting his lip as he glanced at the largest TV screen he had ever seen, surrounded by an L-shaped couch that looked incredibly comfortable. Maybe he should have convinced Atsumu to come along... But his twin was busy fooling around with a raven-haired sniper he’d met recently, and Osamu said he could handle this himself. He sighed, hoping to find something valuable to make up for whatever he couldn't carry alone.

A creak echoed through the quiet house, and Osamu flattened himself against the wall. He recognized the sound—it came from the kitchen. But there wasn't any light to warn him of someone’s presence. Perhaps the owner had decided on a late-night snack. He gulped down the anxiety that made his breath tremble for a moment. He wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation tonight, but he didn’t want to leave empty-handed. Lowering the fox mask from his forehead, he rounded the corner to peer into the kitchen.

A lanky shadow sat at the table, moonlight streaming through the high window making the spoon in their hand gleam. Osamu couldn't see what they were eating, and unconsciously, he placed a hand on his stomach. It growled involuntarily, the sight stirring his hunger. Steeling himself with the thought that a captive might share their meal, Osamu checked his back pocket for the cable ties, then sprang into action.

The unsuspecting person didn’t resist as Osamu slammed him into the table, tying his hands securely—first behind his back, then to the chair for extra safety. Despite his lanky appearance, he had a surprisingly well-built frame.

“Took you a while. I was close to calling you out and offering you a seat,” the man joked as Osamu walked beside him to look at his face.

Green eyes twinkled in the darkness above the sharp lines of his features, challenging him fearlessly, even with his life potentially in Osamu’s hands.

“Thanks for the welcome, sweetheart,” Osamu whispered, glancing at the half-eaten cake on the table. Finally, he could pick up the spoon and taste it himself. Chocolate and coconut.

“Tastes good?”, the man asked.

“Had better, honestly,” Osamu replied, leaving the silverware against the plate, noticing a known brand name.

“It’s from the best pastry shop in town,” the man argued.

“I can do better, tho.”

That made the man chuckle, and Osamu stared at the wrinkles at the side of his closed eyes and the dimple where his smile became a smirk. Pretty rich boy. His thoughts tried to stray him from his goal, but he fought them back and decided to head upstairs, looking for the bedroom. Might he be so basic as to have his safe there?

“Where are you going? I thought we could have some fun...”, the man stopped him in his tracks. “You can’t leave me here all alone.”

“Watch me,” Osamu snapped back because he couldn’t entertain him, even if he would have liked it. It was dangerous, and he needed to clean out anything valuable before leaving.

“I wouldn't do it if I were you.”

This time his tone lose all the playfulness and something cold crept up Osamu's spine leaving goosebumps on its trail. Instinctively, he glanced around to identify the threat. Nothing unsettled him except-

“Kiyo-kun has you in the gunsight.”

-the high window. It explains the curtains absence...

“Why didn't he shot me when I manhandled ya, then?”, he played it cool like Atsumu would have done if he was there. I fucking hate him when he think with his- Osamu squashed down the longing for his stupid twin. He said he could have done it anyway. And he was going to. Just like he promised.

“'Cause he knows I like it when it's a big guy.”

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Osamu rounded the table and opened a drawer to look for a rag. When he found it, he walked back to tie the man's mouth shut.

“Kinky,” came the unfortunate comment just before Osamu silenced him.

“Gonna grab a few things. Sit tight, sweetheart,” he left him behind and run up the stairs.

Incredibly, the upstair's rooms were more minimalistic than the other ones below. The long hallway let Osamu choose between three bedrooms -one so tidy that he thought it was unused, another quite empty with only a bed and a wardrobe, and the last might be of a teenager considering the mess inside. All of them with an en-suite bathroom. At the end of the hallway there was another flight of stairs that probably led to a louscious balcony, so he checked the last two doors left: a main bathroom -With a fucking jacuzzi, crazy riches!- and finally, the study.

Inside this last room, Osamu's blood ran cold. I fucked up, he hissed, licking his teeth. There was an ammunition display as big as an entire wall on his right, but the safe he was looking for was in the very left corner behind the solid wood desk. Osamu clenched his fists a couple of time and tried to think fast about what to do. He was clearly in a shitty situation, alone and also-

“Did you enjoy the house tour?”

He didn't flinched nor moved. Even if his own muscles ordered him to turn, tackle the man down and run away from there. Steadying his breath, Osamu glanced at the display's glass to see the man that he tied in the kitchen's chair, free and on his feet. Grinning like a madman.

"Ow, cat got your tongue, big guy?”, he laughed, walking lazily around Osamu as he had now the upper hand.

“How d'ya free yourself?”

"Don't you want to find out yourself?”, he tempted Osamu, sitting on the desk with skinny, long legs open wide and palms behind.

The man was unarmed. Anyway, Osamu knew better to underestimate him. He did once and now...

"Who are ya?”, he couldn't help but ask.

“Someone you shouldn't mess with,” the man levelled him with a serious look, “You're lucky I found you cute, otherwise...”

He didn't need to finish the sentence, his green eyes trailing the weapons shining inside the display. Osamu didn't have any other chance. It stung, but he didn't really want to die like this. He could probably try to rob another house -maybe below par- on the way home.

"Where are you going?” It was the second time he repeated the question tonight as Osamu started to backtrack.

“'M listenin' yer suggestion, sweetheart. I won't mess with ya.”

“Won't you?”, he pouted, "But I thought we could have some fun! None but a dumb big guy like you would ever try to sneak into my house.”

"Not in the mood, sorry.”

"Such a pity...”, he sighed and jumped from his sit to get closer, “At least, do want me to lead you the way out?”, his tone feigned innocence.

“No need, thank ya,” Osamu was already on the doorstep. The last step and I can-

“Oh please, I insist,” the man stopped, putting a hand on his shoulder, “I'd be a bad kumicho if I don't lead the people I welcome in.”

🥶🔪🩸💀 I know this doesn't exactly fit the prompt, but it was inspired by it and I thought it was right giving it the credit anyway. I hope you had fun reading this little shot I wrote for SunaOsa (with a foreshadowed SakuAtsu) and feel free to ask in the comment's section another prompt of the list with a ship you enjoy, if you like to read more. I'll be happy to write something down for you. <3

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clickbait-official · 2 years

Note

Hi, I’m obsessed with your Morpheus content and I was wondering if you could do something angsty where they argue? If you’re comfortable with it ❤️

omg anon?? i love you <3 je t’aime

also what POV do you guys like best? second person? First? pls tell me i’m never sure which one to go with

masterlist

~~~

A strange book caught my eye as I meandered through the library. I grabbed at the reddish-orange cover, pulling it into my hands. I flip to the first page.

“Try as he might, the god cannot love the mortal in his entirety. He burns far too bright, too endlessly - and no mortal can withstand that intensity. So the god becomes so dreadfully alone - as there is no one who can return his love in the way he needs.”

I remembered then that I was meant to meet with Morpheus in Fiddler’s Green. He had asked me - quite formally, might I add - to meet him there so that we might talk, as friends do.

I won’t tell you how my heart leapt. I’m sure you already know it.

I rushed over quickly, hoping I wasn’t late. The grassy path led me to my favorite spot in all of the Dreaming - the pond.

Waterfalls cascaded down, splashing delightfully with the water below. Birds and butterflies and bees flew and fluttered, buzzed and sang.

It felt like home, almost.

And just the thought of this being home made my heart sing. Though, not as much as the prospect of him wanting to talk to me did.

But as I looked around, peering through the shades of green and brown, I saw no Morpheus.

Maybe I was early?

I’ve got all the time in the world. Might as well wait for him.

I sit down in shade, just watching the world go by. The grass below me was soft, tickling my legs not unlike how it would in the real world. A white tulip sprang up from the ground, alerting me that Fiddler’s Green himself as coming to me.

And there he was, walking from the woods. He dipped his head in greeting as he sat beside me.

“Hello, dreamer,” he said, tone like the gentle waterfall near us. “What brings you to my meadow today?”

“Hello Fiddler's Green,” I said, a small grin appearing on my lips. “It’s nice to see you. Dream asked me here today. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”

His brow furrowed in concentration.

“No,” he said with an unsure tone. “No, he never mentioned anything like that today. Perhaps he forgot to tell me?”

It was an easy excuse. Both of us knew that Morpheus never forgot these sorts of things: he always remembered everything, as any Endless would. So it was rather strange to hear Fiddler's Green talk about him in such a manner. It was …strange.

"The god loves so fiercely, burns so brightly. And like the sands of time, he will fall in love over and over.

He doesn't like to think about it. So instead, he chooses to forget."

Birds still chirped and bees still buzzed. Butterflies flew and waterfalls - well, they fell. The world continued on even though my heart was racing.

“He has been rather busy recently,” said the man beside me. “Maybe it’s just the busyness of it all.” We simmer in silence for a moment before-

"No matter,” he says, cheering up. His demeanor instantly shifts. “We can have plenty of fun together - even without Dream.”

Despite his offer, I respectfully declined. I wanted to know what Morpheus was doing and why he stood me up.

He nodded his agreement but warned me: "Be careful: My lord tends to get antagonistic when stressed."

I said my goodbyes to him and walked back the way I came. The view was just as beautiful, just as sublime. It felt like home in a sense.

And as I walked my way back to the castle, I pondered my relation to the Dreaming and all who inhabit it. I adored Lucienne and Fiddler's Green and Mervyn and especially Matthew. I especially liked his little quips.

Before I knew it I was already inside, right in front of the throne. He flipped through pages of a book, before sighing and setting it aside. There were books and pages and articles everywhere. Perhaps he was looking for something?

"The loneliness has birthed violence in his heart. It has made him cold, colder than the loneliness he knows now as a friend. It is the curse of becoming a god."

"Why do you seek to interrupt my work?" His voice seemed to echo and bounce off the walls of the castle.

Stars seemed to reflect from his eyes, and he was beautiful. I almost didn't hear his question.

"Oh! Um, you said that you'd go with me to Fiddler's Green today, and I was wondering...if you'd like to go now?" My voice betrayed my anxiety asking him that question. Suddenly he seemed so intimidating, so terrifying.

It was easy to see why he was King of Nightmares, too.

He leveled me with a flat stare. His face pinched, curling into a snarl. "Why would I make an effort for you?"

The words sent me reeling.

I took an unsteady step back unconsciously, swallowing hard.

"Oh...Oh. Ok, I'll go!" I squeak, turning around, shakingly making my way out of the room.

"You better." He muttered, turning back to his work.

He never heard my teardrops hit the floor.

"Love is something premeditated. It is something beautiful and something horrific. Love is a home.

The god does not know what home feels like. Now, perhaps he never will."

~~~

Matthew caws, and makes his landing right before the Endless.

"Hey, boss! Aren't you supposed to be with the dreamer?"

A simple question, but one that makes the King of Dreams pause.

"...What are you referring to?"

The raven caws again, shifting from foot to foot. "Yeah, they came in the other night practically glowing. Said you'd invited them to Fiddler's Green. Almost looked like love, if you ask me."

Matthew looks up, noticing how his lord has gone deathly still.

"...love?" Morpheus looks lost in thought, which is not a sight Matthew is used to.

"Yeah, but they were running out of here crying 'fore waking up. Couldn't you have let 'em down easy?"

Dream of the Endless stands up abruptly, towering over his raven. He strides towards the door, ignoring Matthew's caws to stop.

Could someone as perfect as you really love him? Did he ruin it all? He stops, peering around. The palace is silent - per Morpheus's request.

And his dreamer is nowhere in the Dreaming.

Oh. Oh no.

What have I done?

~~~

requests and asks are open!

(request here)

#the sandman #sandman #sandman x reader #the sandman x reader #dream x reader #dream #dream the endless x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x you #morpheus x reader #lord morpheus #x reader

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redgyl · 2 years

Text

Not entirely sure if I'm happy with this, not sure if I got every character right, but it's time to continue the story, so here.

Much thanks to @applestruda for creating this universe to begin with. It's fun. Also, thanks to @hopepetal for some ideas they had in their story that I'm using.

Chapter 3

The moment Pearl saw Jellie zip off into the woods toward the point of Darkness, she knew she didn’t have much time for mistakes. With the presence of the Darkness and the sudden absence of the familiar, she knew that Scar would go feral, and that the only thing that could safely stop him would be either returning that familiar or beating away the Darkness. With Grian down, she would have to face that Darkness alone.

She opened her inner eye as she rode toward the point of Darkness, where Jellie’s blue light disappeared to. Through the thickening woods she saw him: a young man, blond, with a black headband, wearing green. He stared intently through a spyglass straight to where her friends were, blowing a whistle but making no sound. The Darkness she saw did not come from him but from the spyglass, the whistle, and multiple items hidden his pocket, including a blue, glowing box and a marble. She could see Vex-Scar and Impulse, too, as their battle began. And beyond the other side of the incredibly wide clearing, she could see Mumbo hopping onto his horse, his pack secure.

The brush grew thick between her and the young man, too thick for her horse to traverse. She took her scythe and slashed a path through.

She was almost upon him when he noticed her. Exclaiming in surprise, he stuffed the whistle and spyglass in his pockets, rose up, and faced her, a black bow and arrow materializing in his hands. “Stop right there!” he called, even as he released the arrow. It hit her chest hard enough to knock her off her horse, though it didn’t damage her chest plate.

Thinking fast, Pearl kept rolling as her horse galloped away, rolling until she herself disappeared behind a bush. A couple more black arrows shot through the hedge, missing her before they dissipated as black mist.

Taking this opportunity, she let go of her scythe and cupped her hands around her mouth, then whistled softly in a pitch too high for humans to hear. A small moth, nearly invisible in the dark, came to her hand. She gently caressed it in greeting, then whispered to it, then let it go. As it fluttered away, she cupped her hands together, then started whispering a spell into it. A pale crescent, like a waxing moon, began to materialize between her hands and grow.

A sudden movement in her peripheral vision gave her enough warning to grab her scythe and throw herself to one side, barely avoiding a black arrow. The young man in green fired arrow after arrow, but Pearl kept the trees and bushes between her and her quarry, giving the crescent time to grow. Once it was the size of her hand, she cast it into the trees.

“What are you after?” she asked over her shoulder, more to distract him than out of actual curiosity. She shifted her grip on her scythe and waited for an opening.

“Just a little peace and quiet,” he answered. “A jaunt in the little woods.” Suddenly he crashed through the brush, appearing just a couple of arm lengths away. “Found you!”

Pearl acted instantly, swinging her scythe at him. In that same instant, the man swung his bow to block, but as he did the bow morphed, becoming a black shield.

“Shapeshifting weapon, huh?” Pearl asked, pulling back to swing again. But she suddenly had to block, instead, as a black halberd sprang out from the man’s open hand straight at her throat.

“It gets the job done, Miss Reaper,” he answered, his shield now a buckler attached to his arm as he grasped the halberd with both hands.

Pearl saw the moth land on the top of the man’s head. She smiled. She had to keep him distracted just a little bit longer.

“A cat came this way,” she said, swinging at him again, “blue and glowing; know anything about it?”

“It’s adorable,” he answered, trading blows, “as well as low-maintenance. Ghost cats don’t need much feeding.”

That was when the crescent came crashing down on his dominant shoulder, slamming him to the ground. He cried out in pain and collapsed to one knee.

Pearl was on him in a moment, scythe pressed to the back of the man’s neck, her other hand holding his long bangs. All pretense of good humor disappeared as she fiercely said, “Whatever you did to my friend to make him go feral, undo it. Return the cat.”

The angry, defiant glare he gave her had no fear. Instead, black mist swiftly flooded up his arms, shoulders, and neck as the weapons dissolved, becoming full armor that shoved the scythe back off his neck and yanked his bangs out of her grasp. He punched her face with his gauntleted left hand, sending her back.

Pearl stood stunned, reeling for a moment. Nursing his right shoulder, the man suddenly stared straight ahead, as if hearing shocking news. Forgetting Pearl for a moment, he whisked the spyglass out of his pocket and peered through it, looking at the place where Pearl had left Impulse to save Grian. His jaw dropped in an open dismay. “No!” he said, stuffing the spyglass back into his pocket. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” He pulled out the glowing blue box, held it straight out in that same direction, and crushed it.

A blue mist flowed out, and Jellie appeared. She mewed once, then zipped off to be reunited with her owner.

Both fighters stood still for a moment. Using her inner eye, Pearl watched as the cat reached Scar, beginning his transformation back to normal just in time for Mumbo to knock him out.

“What?” Pearl asked, trying to process what just happened. “I’m glad you released her, but why did you?”

The man’s face was twisted in frustration. He glared back at her. Ignoring her question, he reached back into his pocket and said, “You win this one, I’m afraid. Here, have a prize!” He cast a green marble on the ground in front of Pearl. It shattered in a puff of smoke, and that smoke solidified into a creeper.

Pearl yelped and scrambled back as the creeper exploded. She was caught in the blast and knocked into a tree. She didn’t quite pass out, but her ears rang and her head throbbed, and by the time her vision cleared, the young man in green was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We gave you our tools, the things that you need.

Yet in the end you decided to flee.

‘I know. I’m sorry,’ he silently answered. ‘Let me try again once I figure something out.’

You were so close, yet failure you choose.

Watch yourself carefully, your sov’reign to lose.

The man in green rode swiftly through the air on the back of his wyvern, his shoulder completely healed (he wasn’t one to go on a quest unprepared; of course he would having healing potions with him). The castle on the hill loomed ahead, and soon he came for a landing inside the court. Servants came and led the wyvern away while he directly made his way into the palace.

A knight with, somehow, a pair of spectacles with dark stained glass lenses, came over to greet him as he entered the large common room. Along with the glasses, the tall knight wore the mark of a wolf’s head on his left shoulder. “Sir Martyn!” he exclaimed, heartily patting his back. “Welcome back, my dude!”

Martyn smiled at him but continued on his way, the other knight joining him. “Good to be home, Sir Ren.” He dropped his voice and leaned a bit closer to the other knight as they strode along. “How is His Majesty doing? Any change?”

“Alas, no,” answered Ren dramatically. “His stony countenance remains just as ye left. But,” he continued as he led Martyn down a side passage, “we have removed him from the public eye, thisaway.”

“Good choice, but how many of you did that take? He must weigh a solid ton, now.”

“Only two, me and Skizz,” Red opened a door and held it open for Martyn. “Of course, I needed to be in wolf form, but,” he shut the door behind therm, “we got him here before the word spread.”

Martyn’s face hardened as he looked at the statue. It was his king — the kind, soft-spoken, friendly Big B — standing straight, looking with curiosity at something that should be between his gray, stony hands.

Quickly, Martyn’s eyes surveyed the room. “Augh, you left the blinds open,” he reprimanded him, sweeping past the statue to pull the blinds shut, darkening the room immediately. “We’ve got to be careful to keep this a secret.”

“Oh, sorry,” Ren said, lifting off his shades to see in the dark. “Just so you know, the others are working to protect His Majesty’s condition from getting out, too. Lady Symmetry is keeping the commoners distracted, and Joel is out seeking Doc's aid.”

“Joel’s not exactly the most diplomatic person.”

“It can’t be helped. So, my dog,” Ren said affectionately, relaxing into a seat, “you are back, but the curse on our sovereign remains unbroken. What happened? Did you find him, the cur the Watchers said cursed him?”

Martyn sat down tensely into another chair, leaning forward towards Ren. “No, I found him, but … I am sorry for returning without fulfilling my mission first, but it suddenly got … complicated.”

“Oh?” Ren leaned forward, too, raising a curious eyebrow. “How so? Knowing your great loyalty to the crown and skill in the field, it must be something major.”

Martyn first held his silence, listening for any sound out in the hallway, or even for a heartbeat on the other side of the room’s walls. When he spoke, his voice was low, just above a whisper.

“Do you remember Mumbo?”

“Yes?”

“He’s in the same company as my target.”

“Oh,” Ren said, stunned. “Oh, my. That does complicate things.

#applestruda #boatem knights au #pearlecentmoon #pearl hermitcraft #scar hermitcraft #goodtimeswithscar #grian hermitcraft #impulse hermittcraft #impulsesv #mumbo hermitcraft #mumbo jumbo #renthedog #ren hermitcraft #third life martyn #martyn inthelittlewood #hermitcraft #I'm going to hate this chapter next week and will want to change it again #hopepetal

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firefightertj-archive · 10 months

Text

lee dohyun. 30. cis man. he/him. ┊┊ YOON TAEJOON “TJ”, better known as agent THOR has been with cerberus corp as an eo since 2018 and is LEVEL III . FALL DUE TO HARNESS MALFUNCTION has gifted them POWERED FORM, though LACK OF UNDERSTANDING OF THE FORM EXCESSIVE NOSEBLEEDS AND TIREDNESS has also been noted. when they aren’t protecting the tri-state area, they are fond of FIREFIGHTING & LINE DANCING and are never seen without FIREFIGHTER BADGE WALLET WITH A PICTURE OF HIS FAMILY. civilians think they are HELPFUL & CHARMING, but some of the other agents see them as STUBBORN & IMPULSIVE. cerberus corp should consider the fact that their last mission status was ALMOST SUCCESSFUL BUT FOCUSED MORE ON THE CIVILIANS RATHER THAN THE CULPRIT when giving out the next one. ┊┊ min. she/her. 28. est.

001. GENERAL

name yoon taejun nicknames TJ (everyone), Captain (by like two people but he thinks its cool), Mullet Man (formally mullet suffered an nde of gum) age 30 date of birth march 17th, 1993 zodiac pisces place of birth seoul, south korea current residence albany, ny gender cis man pronouns he/him sexuality bisexual occupation firefighter

faceclaim lee dohyun height 6'0 tattoos various personal dates in his life on upper shoulder piercings one earlobe piercing distinguishing features prominent bunny lines, positive traits affable, encouraging, courageous, honest negative traits gullible, stubborness, tends to jump to conclusions labels / tropes spoiled sweet, baritone of strength, combat pragmatist, big brother worship, big little brother, jumped at the call, likes helping others, having fun, country music, potlucks, playing guitars, bon jovi, jared johnson dislikes liars, greedy people/people who don't share, hypocricy, fears not being strong enough disappointing anyone hobbies line dancing, winning it (at combative firefighting not the greys anatomy one), scrap booking, photography habits hanging upside down to think of an idea, phantom touching his shoulder when he thinks theirs a walkie-talkie there

002. EXTRA ORDINARY

the questions here for each section are suggestions to get you thinking. as long as the section is appropriately elaborated upon, you’re fine!

near death experience…

Tw: Fire

“It’s been an honor to serve Station 23.”

October 13, 2017.

There was a fire swallowing the apartment building he and his then fiance lived in. Despite the missed calls about not being a hero, TJ sprang into action. It was the love of his life and he couldn’t forgive himself if they died without him there on their side. Up the tenth floor they were approaching the fire escape. TJ grabbed their fiance close and knew their odds were grim. It was hang on to the slowly deteriorating rope or swing onto the fire escape . Choosing the later TJ did what he could to guide his fiance near the escape but the fire was too strong and the threads holding the harness gave in. He remembered the last few words before his heart stopped from the shock as he fell.

“Let me live so I can protect others.”

power…

Powers: Powered Form.

“Holy shit what’s in the sky!”

The user can enter or leave a powered state of being an advance form where one transforms their physical body into a superpowered version of themselves, having their bodies empowered and changed into superior levels with advance powers, ability and new appearance befitting the nature of their new form with possibly new gear, weapons, costume or armors that their forms inherent in their transformations.

In TJ’s case it is a powered suit which is activated through danger and in cases of courage. TJ doesn’t understand the full scope beyond believing someone is in danger and being a civilian won’t help the circumstances. Also screaming GO! sometimes works but the probability is that it only works with someone he really cares about. His ability harnesses the suit that protects him and a double sided mallet on the side of his coat when he died.

Major different between his and his brothers power is it’s more emotional oriented and the materials spawned. TJ’s brashness fueling his own power

drawbacks / vulnerabilities…

Weaknesses

Lack of understanding of the form- To put it simply TJ is still unsure about the ability itself. All he knows is that he was to be very courageous, fall out a window to recreate the adrenaline running through him, or someone he can really care about. What he doesn't understand is the balance of courage and a clear mind to truly utilize his power. Visualizing the mallet, having a strategy that isn’t brute force offense, and essentially anything that perhaps a level 1 cerb agent would know but does not apply to him. TJ firmly still sees himself as a firefighter who happens to be Thor instead of as Thor, someone who protects all regardless of being a firefighter.

Nosebleeds- due to the nature of adrenaline and blood running through his systems post transformation/ power down his nose will bleed a lot. Has to get treated to mild symptoms. Is at risk of having a syncope episode from blood loss.

Tiredness- depending on how long he was morphed, he will be tired for that amount plus an hour post power down. It has affected him to the point he had to switch shifts just to fully recover. He’s now on float/rotating which ends up being him on more backup stuff and more administrative stuff which on one hand works towards his recent promotion as fire captain. But can seem less than appealing to cerberus themselves.

Vulnerabilities:

People/Civilians- he tends to have more of a bleeding heart towards civilians then the villains who should be stopped. He believes every life counts first then the culprit. Which discussed above is great if you're a firefighter but sucky for your numbers as an agent.

His brother- Despite their vast differences, beliefs about civilians and the like. TJ truly looks up to his brother. They grew up together and probably knows deep down he was a burden to his brother but will always cheer for him

The pending decision he has to make- to be a marshall or to be a hero. Lost potential for him or not? He kinda fears of becoming something he’s not and doing nothing

(if applicable) cerberus corp…

It was at a low point. He called his brother about the truth that happened the last few months in 2017, telling how his engagement failed and nothing feels the same and this weird power he has. He couldn’t remember his brother’s response beyond the words auditioning for cerberus. He was confused and read about the audition. His video was just him nervously looking around before saying firmly I want to be a hero. That’s all I can do. Before letting himself briefly disappear from the window and appear up again and maybe showing off what he got. His video did accidentally get cut short because his neighbors knocked on the door and he frantically de morphed to get the door. Somehow by some miracle he was accepted and his initiation mission went successfully (saving an elderly man out of harms way from a burning zamboni is child's play for a firefighter). But he couldn’t help but wonder if it was a coincidence or something else…for now he just wants to be a hero and a firefighter. Even if both sides say it's impossible to keep both jobs without wearing himself out.

Being level 3 for right now is his best way of putting his feet in both doors and for once trying to make that decision

codename…

Really awkward talk with a cerb agent and his friends. The guys at the department said please don't pull us into it. And Double Mallet Man was sadly rejected so Thor was the compromise. I guess he kinda sparkles like thor or something

003. EXTRA

In this video essay I will talk about cart- I mean taejun the technically less spoken about yoon sibling who was like whats the point of riches if it isnt shared and yeah his life calling was firefighter since he get saved once in a drill

obviously the type who keeps his friends close and his enemies at least fifty yeards away

Knows some emergency words in foreign languages because his firefighter exams

Is a newly minted captain because like three retired so the spot was open and theres like....15 people in the department so yeah hes not loosing his job

Likes country music and the simpler things, would love to be a competitive dancer but he already gotta deal with that one decision above

When he parts his hair and at certain angled he kinda looks like his brother but not enough for someone to call him loveshot yet

In fact he hasn't been called thor either the guy's power form looks like this . I I guess you could see him transform because the window jumping but i hope you got a good hd camera and vision insurance

So connections:

Friends

Cerb agents that like him and wish he can around more

People whose cats he might have saved ( which believe me can be a lot)

A civilian, unaffilated, etc who put two and two together and figured out his identity

Someone who secretly likes Thor (the hero form) because Thor saved them one time but scoffs at the idea and hilarity ensues if they met TJ and think he's a nerd. (i want this because he needs something good and funny like this) and just become close or something

#cc.intro #cc.task

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inquisimer · 10 months

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find the word tag game

tagged by @shivunin to find the words risk, swing, and soft in my WIPs and post the section where they appear. Thank you friend! :3 These are such fun tag games and I always end up distracted re-reading what I've already written lol.

Tagging forward to: @roguelioness | @fadedsweater | @rosella-writes | @plisuu | and @rowanisawriter to find the words flushed, written, and secured

Risk - from my Surana Lavellan backstory fic for Neria

“It is beyond my control now,” he demurred. Such surrender chafed, but already the Wardens had taught him the cost of bucking the status quo. He was not ready to risk more lives for upsetting it. Well—almost ready. He laid one gloved hand on the exit and fixed Greagoir with a cunning look over his shoulder. “Perhaps I might drop by on occasion, Knight Commander. She is not my charge, per se, but her well-being could factor into other decisions, without anyone the wiser.”

Swing - from a oneshot that I started for Zevwarden week and never finished, ft. Ariya Tabris

When they finally reached the gate, Ariya sprang. She dropped from her ledge right onto the half-rotted arch, legs swinging right over the handle they’d been about to grasp. “What—“ “Who—“ They followed the line of her leggings up to her face, confusion quickly melting into anger. It only intensified as they found her nonchalantly flicking dirt from her fingernails with a throwing knife. “Get lost, elf,” one of them spat. “We have business here tonight.” “No you don’t.”

Soft - from my post-DAO Mahariel fic

She elbowed him in the stomach and scowled, but without any bite. In return he brushed a soft kiss at her crown, just behind her ear, and she sighed, leaning into his side. “It would be so much easier if things were like this.” “Things are like this.” Alistair pulled away just far enough to cock an eyebrow at her. “Or do I not seem real to you? I was mostly joking about your head but—“ His foolish rambling made her heart ache. Whatever spirit haunted her tonight, they were doing an excellent job. She pulled him down and silenced him with a kiss, a tiny oomf! as their lips met before he melted into her. His hands stroked light, soothing touches up and down her spine.

#tag games #this is such a fun one I'm so glad it came back around to me #happy hunting friends :3

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burgers-and-french-fries · 2 years

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~Taron Egerton: ‘T was the night before Christmas.

Note: Before you read this imagine, just know that I took creative liberties with it and may have taken inspiration from a very well know Christmas poem. It may not make much sense and things may not rhyme but I had fun writing it.

I also want to note here that this is not the Taron Christmas imagine I keep saying I will post but don’t, this is another one that I hope will tide you over until I can finish editing the other one.

Another note here is that all Welsh translations (according to google translate) will be listed at the end of this imagine.

Please enjoy and I will see you shortly for the other Christmas imagine.

===

‘T was the night before Christmas and all through the hospital, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; the babies were wrapped up by their mother’s blissful side in hopes that Sain Nicolas soon would be there.

The parents were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of their newborns danced in their heads; and the nurses in their scrubs and the doctors in their coats had just settled down for a warm winter’s night cap.

When out in the car park there arose such a clatter, Taron sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window he flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave the luster of mid-day to the cars down below, when, what to his wandering eyes should appear, but a sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

With an old Welsh driver so lively and quick, he knew in that moment that it must be Sant Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

“Nawr, Dasher! nawr, Dawnsiwr! nawr, Prancer! a Vixen! Ar Comed! ymlaen, Cupid! ymlaen, Rhoddwr a Blitzen! I ben y porch! I ben y wal! Nawr dash i ffwrdd! Dash i ffwrdd! Dash i ffwrdd i gyd!”

As dry leaves that before the Hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; so up to the rooftop the coursers they flew, with the sleigh full of toys and Sain Nicolas too.

And then, in a twinkling, Taron heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As he drew in his head, and was turning around, down the imaginary chimney Sain Nicolas came with a bound.

He was dressed up in fur, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were tarnished with what looked like ashes and soot; a bundle of toys he had flung onto his back, he looked like a peddler just opening his Christmas pack.

His eyes- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, and his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard on his chin was whiter than snow.

The stump of his pipe he held in his teeth, and the smoke it encircled his head like a green Christmas wreath; He had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of delicious jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old Welsh elf, and Taron laughed when he saw him, in spite of himself, A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon let Taron know that he had nothing to dread; he spoke not a word, but went straight to work, filling the make shift stocking before turning with a jerk, and laying a finger on the side of his nose, giving a nod up the chimney he rose.

He sprang back into his sleigh, to his team gave another whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle, but Taron heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,

“Nadolig hapus i bawb, ac i bob un noson dda.”

With the jolly old man now vanished from sight, Taron turned to his twins with the look of pure delight. He bent down and gave them each a kiss, bidding them a sweet and peaceful good night’s rest.

“Croeso i'r byd fy darling David a Joy.”

===

Translations (according to Google Translate):

1: Sain Nicolas: Saint Nicholas.

2: Nawr, Dasher! nawr, Dawnsiwr! nawr, Prancer! a Vixen! Ar Comed! ymlaen, Cupid! ymlaen, Rhoddwr a Blitzen! I ben y porch! I ben y wal! Nawr dash i ffwrdd! Dash i ffwrdd! Dash i ffwrdd i gyd!: “Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer! and Vixen! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Doner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”

3: Nadolig hapus i bawb, ac i bob un noson dda: “Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night.”

4: Croeso i'r byd fy darling David a Joy.: “Welcome to the world my darling David and Joy.

===

Tag List: @elizami11s @geo-winchester

#taronegerton #taron egerton blurb #taronegertonimagines #taronegertonfanfic #taronegertononeshot #taronegertonxreader #taronegertonxy/n #taron egerton x you #dad!taron

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really-bad-writing · 2 years

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That one story that came from a book - first part of it

Thanatus Coe was not having fun. He had been back in London for not even an hour and already wanted to leave. Not only because of the fact that every last little detail reminded him of his mother and now his father, he thought as he sat in his old childhood room. It was as though nothing had changed and everything had. He wasn’t sad to see his father go. He had never been there for him and so as soon as Thanatus’s mother had died Thanatus had sailed abroad to escape the memories that flooded London. And now he was back. And he hated it here. All he had to do he told himself was go through the old paperwork that was left from his father’s death and then he could retire to one of the many homes in the name of the Duke of Bolton. His new name. And so with this thought in mind he rose and made his way to his father's no, his study and began the arduous work of sorting through the endless paperwork left for him.

It was only after about three hours in the study as Thanatus had pointedly chosen to call it when his butler Charles came in. Thanatus looked up sharply at a sound in the doorway but relaxed upon seeing it was Charles.

“Your Grace” Charles murmured and Thanatus stiffened in his seat. That was going to take some getting used to.

“Yes Charles?” was the new duke’s reply

“The father of your betrothed has sent you a message.” At that Thanatus groaned and sank down in his chair. He had been promised to the oldest of the Elo girls as soon as she had been born. Their fathers being old friends and both families wanting to secure a suitable heir for their heirs had come to the agreement before the two involved had even had a chance to know what was going on. Not that Arabella, his betrothed, could have seeing as she was just a baby then. But the whole arrangement had plagued him since he was old enough to really understand what it meant. It wasn’t that he was opposed to marriage or that he was holding out for a love match or anything, he just liked freedom of choice. Always had in fact. For as long as anyone could remember Thanatus had done things his own way no matter what. And now he was bound to this one girl he had never met for life. There had to be some way out. He was a duke; he could just call the whole thing off and the Elo family wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. But he wasn’t that cruel, that would bring dishonor to his betrothed but her whole family. He would have to find a way to get her to end it, he decided.

“Do you want to hear it, Your Grace?” Charles asked for what seemed like not the first time.

“Oh right yes sorry.” Thanatus startled, he had been lost in his thoughts.

“Lord Winchester is formally inviting you to dinner tonight and says he won’t take no for an answer.” Charles who had been expecting another groan and painful silence was mightily surprised when Thanatus sprang up excitedly and exclaimed,

“Then I must get ready!”

“But Your Grace the dinner invitation was for seven and it’s only five.”

“Yes I know that, that’s the whole point! Showing up two hours early is rather rude don’t you think?” Thanatus said a grin firmly in place and his faithful butler got it.

“Ah I see then you’d better at least bring some flowers. If only to keep up appearances.”

Thanatus nodded and rushed out of the study into the crisp fall air.

#writers #my writing #writing #fiction #writers on tumblr #writblr #writers and poets

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deardudedash · 1 year

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Dear Dash ,

This is a diary all about my knee. Thrilling I know. Hold on to your seats or eject ... either way , the topic remains the same.

I'm fairly certain it's a mild sprang. Ie annoying , like your common cold that comes with a vengeance but at a joint. That also can happen btw. My son after a stomach bug ended up in hospital with an infection in his joints. A thrilling story for another time.

I write this in my head all day long. Then when I sit down to actually write. The knowone cares mantra plays at very high volumes. Enough to the point it drowns out what I had sat down to write about in the first place.

However ... I've always struggled w this. I've always ignored it, and carried on. In the sense that whether or not I'm heard , understood ,loved or shunned. I have a right to be here. That's from a poem that with out fail enters my mind whenever I struggle. If a life boat could come in the form of a poem. Well I have that poem memorized. Not word for word but the just of it.

I never thought I'd reach a point in life that I'm to exhausted to explain , but here I am. To exhausted to explain. Wishing for ET to appear bc that's what I need. An ET to my Elliot or vis versa. Maybe though emotional exhaustion is a positive but some may say it's disassociating. Who's to say ... apparently white men with degrees, studying the white men that came before them who had enough time to write a book. Enough emotional reserve to write page after page after page... after page of a story lived out. I guess reliving trauma can be fun if it equals millions in book sales. Thanks but no thanks.

I can though offer you a few paragraphs of sarcastic script filled with bitch on the side. If you have an appetite for that. If sauerkraut is your thing, you might be able to stomach the worst of me.

Side note ... My landlord is still a piece of shit. On top of the crazy bullshit bastard he's been the last three years . When you hit the point of understanding why people take the law into their own hands sometimes. Here we are. Although the law in this case remains in the book. Isn't he lucky I'm not truly crazy❤️.

Anyways Dash

Much love

Jess

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nann-the-explorer · 2 years

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Ras and Andrei hit the beach. He sprang out of the yawl and held his hand out to Andrei. "I'm not sure what we can do here. We have to respect the spirit, he was kind enough to lead me to the plant in the first place.." his voice trailed off. Andrei looked down the beach, the sand was a mixture of gold and white which she found dazzling. Her vampire sight made everything brighter and clearer, Ras's silver hair sparkled as the sun caught it, giving Andrei the temptation to touch it.

Ras was surprised when her fingers caught a lock of his hair. "Andrei?" his blue eyes searched her face causing a blush to creep across her cheeks. She covered herself by grinning boldly. "Sorry I thought you had a bug in your hair." relief spread through her as he laughed and smiled. "So where now?" she asked. Her knowledge of the island was small, having only seen the map briefly. With Dr Kirkham having suspected her of helping the enemy, she knew nothing about the plant. She was glad to be here on dry land. She needed the break.

Ras thought for a moment. Going to the clearing again was pointless. "Let's go check on the villagers, one of them might know something."

Andrei nodded. "what is that black stuff? There are tons of it everywhere and it smells disgusting." bending down she scooped the powder into her palm and sniffed it. "That's eldritch remains." a smirk appeared on his face as Andrei quickly dropped the remains and pulled a disgusted face. "Urgh! Why you!" her feet were silent as she launched into a run. Ras laughed again as he dodged her and took off running. The two vampires moved like lightning, weaving between trees and jumping over bushes. Andrei loved it. These abilities, running freely, she was embracing her vampirism fully. She jumped upwards into a tree and waited for her prey to pass.

Arianna was feeling confused. How could she hear Ituith’ryiel? She hadn't cast any magic, yet, she could hear him as clear as a bell. Her mind was jumbled as if it were a mirror that had been shattered into thousands of pieces. "Are you OK?"

„Are you ok?“

Ituith’ryiel’s many eyes blinked in confusion. Why would the elf be concerned for him, even ask him how he was? He hadn’t been the nicest eldritch in history so far. Nioth’luyia snickered again.

„Awww, how nice. Yes, brother. Are you ok? I would like to know that, too.“

Ituith’ryel growled, while somewhere in the dark his sibling lurked producing a many teethed grin. And he now faced another problem - Arianna would keep asking if he didn’t answer and so would Nioth’luyia. He gritted his teeth and tried to flee into a question himself, answering in an unnaturally high pitched voice.

„I am fine. What‘s with the sudden interest in my condition?“

He turned around, but he couldn’t see any of those two in the dark of Nann’s silent mind, although he assumed that Nioth’luyia hid on purpose. That unbelievable coward. This made it hard to get rid of them. And Ituith’ryiel had to get rid of them, since in this case they could not only mean an utter and complete nuisance but also a veritable danger for him and Arianna.

Not that he was concerned for the elf … or was he? … but Nioth’luyia would take advantage of every possibility to feed the sadistic side of their personality. If it was true, that Arianna was someone who could remove him from this world, his sibling would totally use this for their own goals, even if it was just for their sick kind of fun. And after that, they would try to manipulate Arianna. No, Ituith’ryiel couldn’t let that happen. He was not happy in his current position and the connection with Nann and he knew he could be an insolent bastard … but at least he was a loyal insolent bastard. And if anything he wanted to be the one responsible for sending Arianna back to wherever she came from.

Arianna answered something he did not quite hear, since the gears in his stubborn head rotated at light speed to come up with something to shoo away his sibling. But Nioth’luyia listened closely and answered, mimicking his brother’s voice with a silent snicker.

„Why, tell me, how did you get here?“

Tostain could hear water dripping somewhere in the distance, but he couldn’t locate the exact position, since it was pitch black around him. The only thing he could see and feel was that goddamn anchor chain, that originated from his chest and vanished somewhere in the dark.

„What in all Heartless Depths is this?“ he thought, wanting to slowly follow the weak glowing chain to wherever its other end went. As he moved forward, he thought for a moment that the dripping water were words, that echoed through the silence of the blackness. He couldn’t quite hear, what exactly they said, but he could swear that one of the voices belonged to Arianna.

#arianna the druid #nann the explorer #oc roleplay #roleplay

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talaok · 2 years

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hello! So, Joe mentioned in an interview that he bought a guitar and practiced a lot for his scene. Could you write about him going to buy a guitar and asking the reader who works at the store about 80's rock for his investigation? Something fluffy and flirty. thank you ✨💕

Pairing: Joseph Quinn x fem!reader

Warnings: None

a/n: ngl I had to do some research for this one but I absolutely LOVED writing it and loved the idea (I probably got a bit too carried away in the first part). Also, If anyone who knows their shit about guitars reads this, I'm sorry, I tried, I swear.

Btw funny story I was writing this on the bus and I completely forgot I had to get off and I arrived late at the cinema.

Part 2

A GOOD DEED

Today had been slow, it was 4 o clock and only two customers had come into the shop since you opened this morning, and only one of them actually bought something. It was a miracle this place was still standing and hadn't gone bankrupt yet. The shop wasn't yours but it felt like it. You were basically the only employee. There was another one, this very unusual,overly-enthusiastic, and jittery 19-year-old who had just finished high school and perpetually arrived late or not arrived at all, but he would only do a few shifts because he claimed to be a "free soul" and that working here "killed his vibe", so, practically, it was just you. Your boss, Luke, was a 56-year-old man who had inherited the shop from his father and he was probably the coolest person you knew. he knew everything about music and he could play every single instrument in the shop. He once told you that there was no point in telling people to buy an instrument if you didn't know what it felt like to play it. At first, you thought he was just being dramatic, but as time went by you started realizing how right he was, and noticed how it was much easier for you to sell guitars than anything else. You had been working here for 1 year and a half and in that year and a half, he had become your hero. I mean, the man had a rock band, him, a 56-year-old, had a band with other 50-something-year-olds, and the best part was that they sounded amazing. You loved when he came into the shop because after you would beg him desperately, bugging him all day, he would always play something for you and you just adored watching his expert fingers dance on the guitar's strings effortlessly while you lost yourself in melody. Unfortunately, he wasn't coming today and you were really starting to lose your mind because of how bored you were. You looked outside the windows to see if anyone was coming, but the street was deserted except for two women walking by on the opposite sidewalk who seemed to be having a really fun conversation. Lucky them, you thought. You grumbled and looked around you. all the electric guitars were perfectly placed on your right, some on the wall and some on their designated supports on the ground. As you scanned through them, mesmerized by how cool they all looked, one caught your eye. Fuck, You had forgotten about her. How was that possible? Luke had bought her a month ago and the moment you saw her you fell in love. She was a Gibson Les Paul, but not the usual kind, he had customized her, so she was covered in silver glitters with blue flames coming down from the top. You had never seen something so sexy in your life. You sprang to your feet and dashed across the counter. "you are a real beauty" you whispered to the guitar as you cautiously took her from the wall. You weren't allowed to do this, if your boss were to enter now you would probably get fired. The guitar costed more than all of your belongings put together, but you couldn't resist, you just couldn't. She was too beautiful and you needed to know how she sounded in your hands. You peeped at the windows one more time to make sure Luke hadn't magically appeared to beat your ass and was relieved when you didn't see a single soul. the shop had a little aisle where people could try playing an electric guitar put there on purpose and you made your way there. you attentively placed the Les Paul on the ground, unplugged the guitar from the amplifier, and plugged in instead the one you had just taken. You sat on the stool and took a deep breath. You could hear your heart pounding in your chest "calm down Y/N, it's just a guitar" you murmured to yourself. You exhaled deeply "Ok babe, what shall we play?" you asked the inanimate object "Oh, who am I kidding" you laughed at yourself as you positioned your fingers on the strings. There was only one song you wanted to play. You took one last deep breath before you started playing Sweet child O' Mine, your go-to song since forever. You learned to play it at 15, your dad always used to make you listen to it in his car and after he passed away you promised yourself you would learn it for him, as a tribute, and to this day, even if it's one very difficult piece to play is the one you know how to do better. You closed your eyes and started swinging your head to the melody, you had played this song millions of times before, but this guitar somehow made it sound even better. You started humming to the beat as you felt the deep and resonant sound's vibrations in your whole body. this was heaven, you thought as your fingers continued dancing on the strings. Your favorite part of the song was coming and you almost wanted to rush to it just to know how it sounded on that beauty, but you didn't, you continued and as the part started you bit your lower lip, shut your eyes, and smiled widely. It was like hearing angels sing, that is, of course, if angels sounded like 80's rock music. You began rocking your head to the music while rhythmically tapping your foot on the floor. "You're really good" you heard a voice in front of you. You jumped in your seat and widened your eyes. "Woh woh woh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you" The man in front of you apologized holding his hands in front of himself. You exhaled deeply relieved and, peered up at the person who was talking to you. he was a tall young man, wearing jeans and a very colorful t-shirt. his wavy and brown hairs were somewhat messy, as if he had just woken up. You thought that was cute. his lips were turned into a nice and genuine smile and his big, brown, and gentle eyes were looking straight at you. Oh shit, You realized you were basically checking him out and you widened your eyes and cleared your throat to try and salvage the situation "Oh, I'm sorry I thought you were my boss" you spat out. he gave you a reassuring smile "Oh, is he an asshole?" You laughed softly to yourself "No, not at all actually. but I'm kinda not supposed to be playing that guitar" you said, standing up, propping the guitar on the wall, and turning to look at him. "Well don't worry, your secret is safe with me" he joked and you smiled at him gratefully. You were about to say something when he licked his lips. Any sound you wanted to produce got stuck in your throat as your brain blanked for a moment. He noticed your reaction and his lips twitched into a smirk as his eyes traveled down your body ad up again quickly. His eyes found yours again and you swallowed thickly, hoping for your brain to start working again soon. "Uh- Wha-What do you want?" you spat out and immediately regretted it. he frowned at you and chuckled softly "is that how you treat all your customers? because then it's no wonder you don't have many" he joked waving his hands generally at the store. You smiled at him "No, you are right, I'm sorry. Can we start over?" "with pleasure" he grinned. "Ok. Hi, my name is Y/N. what do you need help with?" you asked with your nicest tone, offering him a wide smile. "Hello Y/N, nice to meet you, you have a really beautiful name. I'm Joseph" he introduced himself "And to answer your question, I need to buy a guitar" he explained. "Well, then you are in the right place, Joseph. What kind of guitar did you have in mind?" He laughed softly "Well, see that's the thing. I haven't played guitar in a long time and... well, all I know is that I need an electric guitar" he confessed a bit shily. "Oh, that's totally fine. You know, I actually think it's really cool that you want to get back into it" "Thanks, I'm actually doing it for a role" he explained " a role?" you asked, intrigued "Yes, well, I got cast in this show and they just told me yesterday that I'm gonna have to play the guitar in a scene, so...here I am" he finished with a contagious smile. "Cool, I am allowed to ask what show or is it like a secret?" "I actually have no idea" he laughed "but" he bit his lip "you know what, It's only right for you to also have to keep a secret of mine" You tilted your head to the side and frowned, confused. He nodded to the guitar next to you and your lips formed an o in realization "You're right. come on, spill the beans, Joseph" "ok, it's stranger things" "Oh" you said, a bit disappointed He chuckled "Well, that's not the reaction I was expecting" You widened your eyes, mortified "Oh, no sorry. I'm very happy for you and I have heard it's great, but I've just never watched it" He laughed "no worries, if I have to be honest I had only watched season 1 before getting the role, so it's not like I'm a huge fan myself. But don't tell people that" He joked and you mimicked zipping your lips. "My mouth is sealed" you smiled " Now, let's talk guitars" you said intertwining your hands. He nodded "So would you say you are like a beginner or do you remember some stuff?" He paused a moment to think "No, I think I can still play, I just need a refresher" "Ok, well in that case I recommend you to buy a Yamaha Pacifica 112V which has very high levels of playability and build quality even though she doesn't cost too much. But... if you happen to have a bigger budget then I definitely suggest this Squier Classic Vibe ‘50s Stratocaster." you said, walking towards the guitar "she's very well-made, well set-up and overall she just sounds great" You looked up at him and noticed a sly smile on his face. "She?" he asked obviously amused You felt your cheeks redden. Usually, you didn't care when people found out you liked to treat guitars like people but for some reason he intimidated you. You cleared your throat "Yes, guitars are females, Joseph. Honestly, I expected you to know that" you answered sarcastically. He chuckled"You're right, I'm sorry. I should know better" he pretended to apologize. He looked at the guitar you were pointing out to him and then at you again. "you really know a lot about guitars" he commented "Yeah, well, as surprising as it sounds I wasn't hired just for my pretty face" "Oh, so that's just a plus," he said with a smirk. You swallowed. As much as you pretended to be confident and not at all affected by him your heart hadn't stopped racing since you saw him. "E-Exactly" There was a moment of silence as he admired the guitars around him. "the song you were playing before, Sweet- sweet something" "Sweet child o' mine" you helped him "Yeah, that one. When was it released?" he asked, finding your eyes again. " '88" you answered " Wow, that was quick" he chortled " Well, you asked" "Yeah, you're right. so you know a lot about 80's music, don't you?" "I'm more of a 90's gal myself, but I think I know the basics. Why?" you asked "Well, the show is set in the '80s and chances are I'm gonna have to play a song from that time, so Y'know, I should probably learn more about that decade and you seem like someone that could help me with that" "So you want like a list of famous songs" "Rock songs, yeah" "rock?" "My character is kind of a metalhead" You smiled "Sure, I would love to help " He widened his eyes and beamed "Oh, thank you so much" "Ok well, first the classics so obviously: crazy train by Ozzy Osborne, Wrathchild by the Iron Maiden, Welcome to the Jungle by Guns 'n Roses, Photograph by Def Leppard "You stopped as you noticed his face, he was staring at you, frozen "You may want to write them down"You laughed softly, bringing him back to earth. He cleared his throat "Yes, you're right, I'm sorry" he said, pulling his phone out of his back pocket."Ok, I'm ready" he informed you after a few moments. "Ok, then of course Jump by Van Halen, Dr. Feelgood by Motley Crue, Ace of spades by Motorhead.. and then basically everything by AC/DC and Metallica" you finished your list "Wow" he whispered, stunned "That's all?" "Well, these are the basics but there's a whole world out there" you smiled "What's your favorite one?" he asked intrigued You bit your lip and caught his eyes dropping to your mouth “Is that part of your research?” his eyes came back up to yours. “I was just wondering” he smirked You smiled “ well, other than Sweet Child o’ mine, I know it's basic, but I absolutely love back in black” you answered truthfully, suddenly feeling shy. “Oh well of course, who doesn’t?” “Right? It’s THE classic. It didn't even take me too long to learn” He looked at you shocked, his eyes basically out of his skull “you know how to play it?” “Well yes, I mean, I’m not exactly Angus Young, but I’m decent” He grinned widely “ oh, now I need to hear it”. You bit the inside of your right cheek nervously. This guy... “Come on, it's for research purposes” he gave you his best puppy eyes and you swore you got butterflies in your stomach. Get a grip Y/N, what are you, 13? You scolded yourself. “Ok, I’ll play you the beginning if you promise to buy a guitar after. This place could really use the money” you gave in. “Deal” he said immediately, making you smile. You walked to the stool and sat down again, carefully taking the guitar propped against the wall. “You’re not allowed to make fun of me, ok?” you threatened and he smiled genuinely “I’m sure It’s not even gonna be a passing thought” You fished your pick from your pocket and took a deep breath, shutting your eyes. You positioned your fingers on the guitar and with a decisive strum, started playing. God, you loved the beginning, so iconic and yet never boring. Your fingers were moving swiftly on the strings as you were biting your lip to concentrate better while closing your eyes. That's how you liked to play.No distractions. Just you and the music. You kept going, putting all your passion into the movements as you started rocking your head and tapping your foot on the floor following the rhythm. You had forgotten all about where you were and what you were doing until you heard a faint "wow" coming from Joseph. You opened your eyes and looked at him. He was staring at you,him mouth slacked open while his eyes kept darting between your face and your fingers. You finished playing the first part as you promised and stopped to look at him. He was immobilized, you laughed softly "Are you still here Joe?" you asked waving your hands in his direction. He shook his head as if waking from a dream, "Y-Yes, I'm sorry" he chuckled to himself "it's just that, that's gotta be the hottest thing I've ever seen" he confessed with an incredulous smile. You blushed as you felt your heart skip a beat at the compliment. "Uhh, well" you swallowed "thank you" you smiled timidly at him as he reciprocated. You peeked at each other smiling for a few moments before a car passing by brought you back to reality. You exhaled deeply "now it's your turn to keep your part of the promise" you stated getting up and placing the guitar against the wall. he licked his lips "You're right,I think I'm gonna go for the most expensive one" he decided You laughed "Are you trying to impress me?" He tilted his head to the side and smirked "Is it working?" you narrowed your eyes and smiled subtly "kinda"

"she's all yours" you spoke, handing him the guitar he had chosen. Your hands touched as he took her from you and you felt a sparkle ignite from the touch, starting from your fingers and spreading through your whole body. Holy hell. You were pretty certain he felt it too as he stopped his movement and glanced at you briefly. You swallowed thickly and took a step back "If you have any problems with her or just need some help, don't hesitate to come back" "Will I find you?" "Probably yes, as I said, this place isn't exactly not-bankrupt " you joked "Well then I'm gonna come back for sure" "I'll count on it" you said as he walked towards the door and turned to look at you one last time before walking out.

You went back behind the counter and placed your hands on it. That was intense you, thought as you huffed closing your eyes. "So I was thinking" You jumped out of your shink and widened your eyes It was him again. What was he a ninja? "You gotta stop doing that" He laughed "You're right, I'm sorry" "That was fast” you joked “How did you manage to already break the guitar?” He smiled and bit his lip” No, that’s actually not why I’m here. She’s fine, don’t worry” he said patting the guitar. “No, see. I was thinking…since I have to learn everything about playing guitar back again I might need some help” he explained “And you look like the perfect teacher” he said looking at you hopefully. You smiled at him “And what do I get back?” “You get to hang out with me” You rolled your eyes playfully ”fine, I felt in need to do a good deed today anyway.”

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn x fem!reader #joseph quinn stranger things #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things #request #stranger things season four #stranger things season 4 #starnger things #fluff #joseph quinn fic

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dorkydiaz · 2 years

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i feel my heart saying hi [1.3k |character study| Eddie in suits] {ao3} a/n: this started as 5 times Eddie had a panic attack in a suit, but idk that it ended up being that? *shrugs* you'll notice i did not include The Panic Attack in a Suit™️and i just didnt feel like including it cause i wanted to explore things that haven't happened on screen (yet). this is a weird mish mash of spec, my interpretation of canon, and just plain storytelling ig. title inspired by ring of keys from fun home. (iykyk) spoilers for 5b!

July 1995, El Paso

Eddie is 8 years old the first time he remembers wearing a suit. How his mother tightened his tie around his neck is not the reason he feels like he can’t breathe as he sits in the sweltering summer heat in a house of God. He isn’t sure why it feels that way. But his chest is tight and a tear escapes as he grips the arm of the pew. Maybe it was the overwhelming heat. Maybe it was the thought that he had lost his greatest confidant in his family. His namesake. Even christened him with the nickname Eddie on the day he was born. He had told Eddie that story a million times over. How small he’d been. How he was crying until the moment he was in his Abuelo’s arms. He was going to miss the man he would wait at the window for and run down the driveway to hug just ten seconds sooner. And knowing he would miss that for the rest of his life, hurt.

May 2005, El Paso He’s 18 and Zoey Clearwater is laughing as she pins a boutonniere to his suit after he had slipped an elastic band around her wrist with flowers that matched her dress and his tie and pocket square. She’s a sweet girl but they weren’t dating. She was quiet, read books in the cacophonous cafeteria during lunch, and she was on tech crew for the theatre productions. They had been talking backstage during the spring production of The Wizard of Oz when they both admitted to not having dates for prom. And then she’d kissed him. 30 seconds before he had to go on and sing “If I only had a Heart”. He just smiles and darts to the wings after checking that his makeup hadn’t gotten smeared in the process. They dance and have fun, slow dance too. But throughout the night his chest feels tight. And it culminates as he stares at the stage when it’s announced that Alex Higgins (of course) is Prom King and his perfect cheerleader girlfriend, Julie Standford, as Prom Queen. And he can’t breathe because he should want that with Zoey, and maybe what if he wants it with Alex. Well not Alex cause he’s an asshole but someone like Alex. And he’s not even sure what that means. So he swallows and focuses on trying to dance with Zoey. And he’s so focused on doing that, he doesn’t notice Zoey staring at Julie.

October 2010, El Paso He’s 23 with a baby on the way and 1 week out from shipping out to bootcamp. And he’s standing in a side room of a church in an ill-fitting tuxedo. It had been the best they could do on short notice. He’s fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt, making sure they are sticking out just right. Funnily enough it’s the same church as 15 years ago. His eyes water remembering the 8 year old boy, scared of the rest of his life without his grandfather. At the time he thought that would be the scariest thing he would ever face. But here is, 15 years later, 8 months away from being a father, just over 2 months away from being shipped off to a war that started when he was 14 that he didn’t believe needed to be fought. But he loves Shannon. He does. He’s sure of it. And he loves their kid. So he walks out of the little room and stands at the altar, the priest greeting him. And his heart stutters when Shannon appears at the end of the aisle and smiles at him from underneath her veil. But it’s not the way he thinks it should. Tears sprang to his eyes, because she’s beautiful, because it’s too late to run.

May 2019, Los Angeles He’s 32 at a rooftop restaurant, “I’m not pregnant.” and “I think we should get a divorce.” Ringing in his ears. His hand shaking around his glass and the burn of alcohol running down his throat. And he can’t move as Shannon gets up, squeezes his arm as she leaves. He’d lost everything he was supposed to want. What he had. And his heart is hammering in his chest because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to find it again.

May 2022, Los Angeles He looks up over the dance floor and sees Buck, who has Jee balanced on his hip and is holding Chris’ hand on the other side. He’s smiling. Looking free. His tie still comfortably around his neck, and his sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. And Hen and Karen, perfectly dressed in white, basking in the love of their family, in their love for each other. And again his heart stutters in his chest, and he’s not sure why. A lump forms in his throat. Oh. he thinks. And it isn’t the realization that he’s in love with Buck. He knew that. Had known that. Since last May, the heat of the LA asphalt mixing with the warmth of the fresh blood radiating up hitting his cheek. Since he sat on a hospital bed, not able to look him in the eye, swallowing the meaning behind “You think you’re expendable, but you’re wrong.” because Buck didn’t need to hear “I love you.” not with Ana and Taylor waiting in his living room. It’s not Oh, “I’m queer as all get out.” Because that surprisingly came after “I’m in love with Buck.” in the green papered walls of Frank’s office. He’d never done things in the conventional order anyway. And this Oh, wasn’t helping that consensus. Because this is Oh “he’s my partner” It’s oh, “you’re a miracle worker” “I had to do it” “I know you did” “I misunderstood the assignment” “And that started with you”. It’s oh “I was never going to find it again, because I made it right here with you.” It’s oh, “I could have this”. And it's so much, he can’t breathe. “Eddie? Are you okay?” May asks him where she’s settled down next to him, her shirley temple glass balanced perfectly in her hands. He just looks at her, eyebrows raised a little. “You’re crying,” she states, explaining her question. He was? He brings a hand to his cheek, and sure enough his fingertips come back wet. He swallows and smiles at May, “Did you ever figure out who you wanted to be?” She asks him. And he lets his eyes travel back to Buck and Chris, “I realized I was already that person. I was just too repressed to know it,” he smiles, and May looks at him eyes wide, “Did you figure it out for yourself?” He just asks her, letting his words speak for themselves. He knew she would understand. “I think so.” “I’ll miss your voice on the radio,” he says, pulling her into a side hug. “I didn’t even say anything!” “Eh, I knew both our days were numbered at dispatch since that day. It burning down only confirmed that.” “So, are you going to tell him?” She asks, taking a sip of her drink. “I think so,” he smiles. His heart hammering in his chest.

September 2025, Los Angeles He’s 38 and standing on a small patch of grass outside a wedding venue. His suit perfectly tailored, sleeves sticking out just right. “Hi,” He hears Buck say behind him, “you can turn around now.” And his heart stutters, but he turns around and he’s breathless as he takes in his future husband. Buck’s suit perfectly compliments his. He takes Buck’s hand and spins him around and Buck returns the favor. They end up with their foreheads touching and just looking at each other. Taking a moment for themselves. “Hi,” he breathes “Hi,” Buck smiles back, “I have something for you.” “Does it have to do with the little basket with flowers in it that’s right there?” Eddie laughs as Buck picks up the boutonniere and pins it to his lapel. And his heart settles as he places a peck on his fiance’s lips.

bonus a/n: if you are curious, yes zoey is queer af too. Eddie runs into them a few months after the wedding and they become friends again, them and their wife become Buck and Eddie's couple friends and they go on double dates <3 (i may one day write about them all but i do not need another wip atm)

#911 #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddiefanfiction #aj writes stuff #tusercourty #tuserzee #thatbuddie #userceecee #usersharky #usercombat #useroliii #useryb #tagnic #userweres

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