#hippo ready

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF movie Mike and Vanessa meet Mr.Hippo

[hippolotamus]

tagged by the delightfully talented @tizniz @rewritetheending with some outstanding offerings (go check ‘em out if you haven’t) 💖

Today I’m offering some out of context mirrorball angst 🪩

“Anyway, thanks for that. Thanks for reminding me what I’m really good for.”

Any remnants of Eddie’s heart shatter in his chest. He steps forward, wanting to cling to Buck and comfort him, an instinct he isn’t sure will ever disappear. But Buck winces, shaking his head and putting more distance between them.

“Buck?” The hushed plea is useless, he knows it is. He knows he has no right, but he asks anyway.

np tagging @beyourownanchor6 @bucksbiawakening @bi-buckrights @spotsandsocks @stereopticons @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @bucksbignaturals @dangerpronebuddie @diazheartsbuckley @theotherbuckley @thekristen999 @loveyouanyway @eowon @actuallyitsellie @epicbuddieficrecs @a-noble-dragon @weewootruck @saybiwithme @bidisasterevankinard @shipperqueen6 @kitteneddiediaz @your-catfish-friend @filet-o-feelings @wikiangela @underwaterninja13 @lizzie-bennetdarcy @steadfastsaturnsrings @inell @jesuisici33 @freewayshark @dr-shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @dorkydiaz @elvensorceress @giddyupbuck @indestructibleheart @lemonzestywrites @monsterrae1 @statueinthestone @the-likesofus @watchyourbuck @wildlife4life and anyone else who wants to 😘

[daffi-990]

Fantasy AU Buck & Eddie

As Buck draws the bowstring back he feels Eddie come up beside him, feels the heat of his body pressing along his side.

Eddie reaches around Buck, his left hand splaying over Buck’s lower back as the fingers of his right hand delicately run down Buck’s arm from his wrist to the bend of his left elbow.

“Archery is about your breath,” Eddie says softly, “let it guide you, ground you, focus you. Let the bow become an extension of you, just like a sword. You are not it’s master, wielding control over it, but it’s partner, working alongside it.”

The warmth from Eddie’s breath as he speaks caresses Buck’s neck, goose flesh pebbling in its wake. Buck tries to keep his focus on the target in front of him and not on the male behind him, pressing in closer, his lips now ghosting over the shell of Buck’s ear.

“Choose your target and get them in your sights. Let the world slow down around you, like the only two things that exist in this moment are you and them.”

Buck takes a deep breath, the scent of Eddie invading his senses. His woodsy, earthy aroma floods Buck’s nose, his eyes fluttering shut as he greedily inhales another lungful. He swallows thickly, and swears he can taste fresh rain on his tongue.

Buck feels the press of Eddie’s nose against his hair, feels the way the other males chest rises as he takes a breath. Feels the shudder of his exhale, his arms shifting and the muscles drawing tense around Buck, like he’s holding himself rigid.

Holding himself back.

Could this mean that Eddie feels it too? This pull between them? Like they’re two magnets and the closer they get to one another, the harder it is to pull away? Buck wants to find out what would happen if they didn’t pull away. If they just let themselves collide.

“Take a breath to steady your aim,” Buck does as instructed, Eddie’s scent wrapping around him and inside him once again, “and then as you exhale, let the arrow,” his lips ghost the shell of Buck’s ear, “fly.”

Buck releases the arrow, watching it soar towards the target, landing just off centre.

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @dangerpronebuddie & @tizniz

Surprise! I know I haven’t been participating in a lot of writing games atm (thank you to everyone who still keeps tagging ❤️) due to being swamped with stupid life stresses and responsibilities but I’ve also been using my free time to read and rediscover my love for art 😍

This snippet is from my Buddie Fantasy AU, that I actually wrote a little bit ago and something about it stuck with me and eventually inspired me to try bringing it to life.

No pressure tagging: @spotsandsocks @diazsdimples @hippolotamus @wikiangela @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @madneywedding @rainbow-nerdss @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @try-set-me-on-fire @prettyboybuckley @shitouttabuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz @devirnis @fiona-fififi @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @homerforsure @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @king-buckley @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @captain-hen @bekkachaos @smilingbuckley @neverevan @nmcggg @missmagooglie @monsterrae1 and as always, anyone else who has something to share, consider this your official tag 🏷️

[hotcinnamonsunset]

EVERYTHING AT ONCE by HIPPO CAMPUS + hands

[lazlolullaby]

Where is the Moon Knight AU where Marc and Layla's patron Gods are swapped? and now my brain can't work because it extended into a full roleswap AU?

Layla's father came back from a successful dig with a trove of information and a lovely little ushabti of Khonshu. However, Abdullah is acting strange, talking to thin air, going out at night, researching further into obscure things. The lights are also flickering no matter how much she checks the generator and the wind keeps blowing despite the doors being shut.

Abdullah El-Faouly is the Eye of Khonshu: being banished for so long from the world, the God needs some time to adjust before going forward with his plan of punishing evildoers. (this was Khonshu trying so hard to be like the Ennead, but he could not abandon his nature to protect.) Abdullah ends up breaking the contract and Khonshu leaves the ushabti behind as a token of protection.

(then there is Arthur Harrow, the Talons of Khonshu. While his willingness to perform violence is a boon, sometimes he is too eager.)

Everything is fine for a while, then mercenaries break in to find the artifact. Bushman threatens them. Layla fights and takes down most of them, but her father is still hurt. One of the remaining mercenaries turns on Bushman. (He starts the mission as Marc - but since he can't handle another innocent death on his hands, backs out and swaps with Jake.)

During the struggle, Layla gets shot. Jake gets things done and then scatters. (he believes that he killed her. this has. repercussions on the system.)

Khonshu at first just wanted to revive Abdullah, but at his insistence he gives up being an Avatar so Layla can be revived. "she is going to be angry. You won't be there to see it." "she would have gone after them anyway."

(Khonshu abandons Harrow for this, not sure if it was worth it.)

Abdullah is right. Layla does go on a hunt, now as the Wings of Khonshu. Moon Scarab, to the underworld and the rumor mill.

She's mad about everything. Mad that her father presumed she needed saving, mad that she has to listen to an angry bird. (Rage, though it burns hot, always burns out. It's better than the cold certainty of Harrow's punish before wrongdoing. It is worth it.)

(Layla isn't unhinged, she's just gripping very tight to the hinges, thank you for asking.)

Weeks pass and she finds the last person of the mercenary group. A man cuffed to a wheelchair in a psych ward, sedated.

"His mind is fractured. Broken." Khonshu says. "It could be a fitting punishment, to keep him here. His body rotting while his mind spins in fruitless cycles."

"or he could be very good at hiding. One way to find out."

Layla is an excellent forger - a release for the merc, a small flat and money to keep him in town while he recovers from treatment. She feeds him a lie about being a family friend. There's a flicker of distrust.

"I've got a condition - blacking out, memory issues, insomnia - I'll be up reading all night." He says his name is Steven, but she knows better. "Are you sure you want to be flatmates?"

"I have places to be at night." Khonshu flickers the lights.

"Oh. Fine. Night owl, that's...fine."

"Don't worry about the lights, the landlord never answers the calls." don't mind that she's the landlord.

Her coming home with bruises and cuts. Steven flinches, insisting they go out to get bandages because they don't have a proper first aid kit. The awkward stare off with a hurt lady and a nervous guy VS the night shift cashier that's Seen it All. "bar fight. I won." Layla grins, blood on her teeth.

(The little moment where they're close as he's putting a bandage on her nose and being. so. tender. to someone who's never been more than 'distractedly polite' to him. His face changing to something new, something strange and lovely.)

When she finds him hitting himself, it's not that hard for him to explain. "I don't - I don't know if this is real. Jake is very sure you're dead!"

It turns out after the night of the attack, Jake got them far away as possible. He resolved to become a night driver and Steven to keep house in the day. Marc woke up and realized an alter was trying to build a life and just...let them. Better than mercenary work.

Steven gets worried about his missing time and gets therapy...and the therapist realizes, tells them and pushes them too hard to "come together as one whole"...Jake snaps and he's forced into a psych ward.

They cribbed together some form of communication on the psych ward thanks to a different therapist and the other patients. Marc's immense guilt wanted them to stay. But Jake and Steven wanted the body out. If they spent more time in the ward, they might reveal some crimes and the system doubts that they'll be allowed this level of help in a prison.

When Layla arrived to take them, it was an opportunity they didn't want to refuse.

"We don't want to be one person. We want to be ourselves." Steven fully introduces them after that. "We are the Hippo system! Like the Hippocampus of the brain that works with memory - that's Marc - and navigation - that's Jake!" He spells it out, "He Isn't a People Person Otherwise!"

"Who's he?"

Steven shrugs. "I dunno. I'm just here for general life, Jake is here for protection and gossip and Marc...he's well. Not as social as he'd like to be. I'm not supposed to know about it, that's not my "function", as the doc would say but...whatever happened that made us us was too much for one person to bear. It happened before we met you, so it's not your fault."

Layla shrugs. "What can you tell me about that night?"

"I can't tell you. That's part of the point, us being separate and all."

She eventually gets an answer out of them. Layla also lies and says she wasn't as badly hurt as they saw and shows off her Moon Scarab suit with the healing. (Jake accepts that answer at face value. Steven is a little concerned but willing to let it slide. Marc is suspicious.)

Now with their first round of secrets gone, they feel more at home. The Hippo System settles in as a decent partner in her artifact retrieval - he can put his mercenary skills to a good cause and she doesn't have to hide that burning rage as much. (the rage dims, is soothed and that's not good for vengeance.)

Khonshu starts to intrude, making noises about using the Hippo System as his next Avatar. Layla pulls away, tries to keep them apart because she Knows any more pressure on that mind is going to break them apart.

Wendy Spector dies and the Hippo system is thrown out of balance.

(The rage ignites. She's always held it together - her family after her mother died, her composure when people talked over her and her knowledge of Egypt, her home, now the Hippo system. It's always been up to her and she's resigned and vicious and not holding back.)

Layla makes a judgement call and goes after Harrow alone.

The system recovers. Steven now knows why he exists. He does not flinch from Layla's rage, does not fall for Harrow's twisted philosophy, not like Marc or Jake would. He rallies the system to action, to save the world.

Harrow was able to get dirt on Marc's past and tries to kill him with Judgement, but it doesn't work. He reveals about Khonshu, that his partner is lying to him and it does strain the relationship.

Things follow canon. Khonshu gets sealed into stone. Layla dies and Marc blends in as a follower.

Tawaret tries to ask him to be her Avatar, but he refuses. "Do you know what I did as a child to my brother? What my mother did to me over and over for it? Why would you even want me to defend women and children?"

And he releases Khonshu. "Ah. Big pigeon! No wonder Layla was so bloody ready to be rid of you! Get back to her then! Go on!"

And Tawaret comes back. "Temporary Avatar. I don't want any more voices in my head than I started with."

And he becomes Hippo Knight, because why not?

And they win against Harrow and the cult of Ammit. The system helps Layla stop giving into her rage to kill Harrow. Everyone should be able to choose good or evil.

(Steven kept in contact with the patients and nurses in the psych ward. Harrow is preaching violence again and well. He made his choice. Jake drives Layla over to meet with him. Marc holds her tight.)

[ohshy]

The long awaited fourthquel to the bbq sauce meme

[praetorqueenreyna]

Prey was great but now I want a Predator movie where the Predator gets dropped in Africa and gets absolutely annihilated by large herbivores

[resetmypatientviolence]

Do I have a long way to go with how I feel about my body? Yeah. I want to be leaner and healthier. But am I proud of the muscles I bear and have the confidence to rip off my shirt because it’s fucking hot & work out in just my sports bra after losing 25lbs? Absolutely.

Progress not perfection. Look at those muscles & imagine how many more are ready to pop.

[easeupkid]

anyways the good news is that hippo campus is releasing a new song on my birthday :) happy birthday to meeeeeeee

[hamsterrausch]

Ferrero Sammelspaß EM 2024: Punkte sammeln, Prämie sichern

Neue Sammelaktion: Ferrero Sammelspaß mit Hanuta, Kinder, Duplo und Co: Punkte sammeln, Prämien sichern - #Hamsterrausch

Die Fußball-EM 2024 steht vor der Tür. Ferrero beglückt die Fans der Kicker mit einer großen Treueaktion. Ferrero Sammelspaß heißt sie. Punkte sammeln und gegen Prämien eintauschen – das geht ab sofort bei Ferrero-Produkten wie Kinder, Hanuta, Nutella, Milchschnitte und Duplo. In jeder Packung gibt es einen Aktionscode zum Sammeln. Wer den Code auf der Website ferrero-sammelspass.de einlöst,…

[lostandbackagain]

idk if it's from the reading drought of the past several years but I keep seeing things and seeing other things in them like blindfolded characters and burning buildings? sick spook reference. characters washing their hands before practicing medicine? derivative of kaladin at best but have at it I suppose. guns? are you plagiarizing mistborn or is it subconscious?

[popfizzles]

What started as a joke with @kittyacelia about making FNAF animatronics ACTUALLY kid-friendly, ended up snowballing into an exercise in character design and world-building.

We call them Nanny Animatronics (since "Toy" and "Plush" have already been taken). They're far softer with pastel palettes, rubber teeth with plush exteriors to avoid accidentally hurting children! They're all housed under a pizzaplex type building that functions Entirely as a daycare.

I'll add extra notes about them individually under a readmore!

Nanny Freddy is the one kids go to for advice and generic help. He's super comforting, makes his rounds across the daycare saying hello to everyone. He gives GREAT bearhugs and specializes in calming down tantrums or panic attacks.

Nanny Chica loves playing house with children! She teaches general safety, like how to properly interact with stoves or electrical outlets. She's also equipped with a database of every kid's food allergies, and makes sure nobody eats anything they're not supposed to! Her cupcake (unpictured) is named Sugar and is basically just a fully sentient stress ball toy that loves to be thrown and fidgeted with.

Nanny Bonnie is the music teacher, and loves to help kids stay in touch with their louder and excitable sides. He loves to listen to kids talk about whatever they may be interested in, and has a learning database equipped with trivia to hold conversations with kids about any topic. He's the one children infodump to!

Nanny Foxy is the smallest of the bunch, and he loves to run around with the kids! He will play pretend with children, and is even equipped with the ability to detect injury and proper First Aid knowledge to help if a kid trips and hurts themselves while playing.

Nanny Monty is the art teacher, and teaches kids to use their hands for good (like creating art!) instead of bad (hitting, pulling, or smacking). He's very good at breaking up fights and helping kids deal with anger in a reasonable way.

Nanny Roxy loves to play dress-up with kids, but her main objective is to be there for kids, and recognize self-esteem issues. She's ready to pep-talk children at a moment's notice. Everyone is a winner in Roxanne's eyes, after all!

The Mediocre Melody animatronics are all localized on a stage in the daycare, and take turns putting on different types of shows for the kids. Nanny Mr. Hippo loves telling stories for kids, even stepping in to tell naptime stories for the younger kids. Whereas Nanny Orville does small magic shows, along with his assistants Bonbon and Bonnet! The other Mediocre Melodies (Happy Frog, Nedbear, and Pigpatch) are present, but undesigned. When they aren't doing their shows, they act as an extra set of hands for the others.

Nanny Springtrap (modeled ONLY in design after a horror show attraction) is activated during October for Halloween events, and teaches kids that there's no reason to be afraid of monsters. He also advocates for safety around strangers, and that it's okay to always tell an adult if you see something scary. He (along with a currently undesigned Nanny Dreadbear) come every Halloween to give goodie bags to the kids.

[hippolotamus]

And we'll never know If our love could have grown But you kept me on the line But never close to be mine What was the dream that you had When you woke up and you were sad?

Now & Then Lily Kershaw, Goody Grace

[ghouldtime]

Ghost'ed

Been thinking about literal Ghost! Ghost. Maybe it's playing too many ghost hunting games or watching too many shows but I cannot stop thinking about it. You also cannot convince me this man wouldn't be a restless spirit. His entire life is troubled and I don't see him going down in a peaceful way or leaving until he feels the job is done - and likely ending up trapped as a result

I wrote this at work so sorry in advance for any typos or slip ups!

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Ghost hunting wasn’t exactly what most people would list in "Top ten relaxing hobbies" - but it's not like you were most people. You were simply you. The same you who thought spending your time speculating about spooky specters was one of the best ways to pass by those few stretches of free time that could be all too fleeting in the hellscape known as adulthood.

The stares that followed you when you announced paranormal investigation as a hobby was something you knew all too well. After all, telling someone you’re a ghost hunter only stood as a slightly more socially acceptable version of telling them you believed in bigfoot (you did, but that’s beside the point). The dozens of cheesy TV shows certainly popularized it but they did little to help with the perception of it.

When the face of popular ghost hunting media was full of grown men who screamed like a squirrel high on helium at every little thump of a house settling, it did little to help what people automatically thought of when they heard of your unique hobby. Plenty still turned their noses up, scoffed slightly as they rolled their eyes and sneered, “Aren’t you too old to be doing that?” 

Or worse. They gave a tight-lipped smile, nodded, and crinkled their eyes as they said, "Oh, interesting." While the tension in their body told of holding back laughter or wanting to bolt right on out of there, far far away from you.

Quite frankly, you didn't care what they said anymore as it was your life to live, not theirs. You’d seen enough to know without a fraction of a doubt that there was more beyond the veil of life itself, hiding just out of sight. The hundreds of hours you spent wandering dark hallways and dilapidated ruins with nothing but your flashlight and ghost box proved otherwise. At least it proved it to you.

Proving it to others was a horse of another color. Skeptics who spit their criticism loud enough to deafen even the most positive prevalent of voices in the community were a dime a dozen. Unfortunately, their existence was as certain as the sky is blue. Skepticism was apart of human nature, after all. They would always exist as long as the day and night kept up their eternal dance.

Convincing them was a fruitless effort. You'd sooner be able to convince hippos to fly than you'd convince them of the truth you knew. Trying to get everyone to agree, to acknowledge the paranormal, was hopeless and something you certainly weren't going to waste your life on no matter what they called your or what they said.

As far as you were concerned, being paid to sit in the dark alone and find evidence of life beyond the grimy waters of death itself was a pretty sweet gig. The naysayers could seethe in their own jealousy all they wanted because at the end of the day, you’re getting paid to do what you love. That they never could take away from you.

They'd never be able to have the same thrill that you did as you took on another case, ready to see even more of what the phantasmal realm had to offer.

Anticipation, nervousness, and excitement rolled together in a palpable energy you hid beneath a calmer exterior every time you took a job. There always would be that wonder there, the question of what exactly you might find dangling just out of reach, the hope that maybe, just maybe you might see even more than you already have. Another chance to investigate meant yet another night spent lurking in the shadows, tirelessly trying to find more evidence of the great world beyond the grave and its inhabitants. Tonight certainly would be no different.

An older couple quite reluctantly booked an appointment for a standard investigation after mysterious things that they really could not explain, no matter how they went about it, happened time and time again. They'd tried to ignore it, they said, but it only got worse.

Footsteps that echoed through the house at first in a gentle patter had become confident strides. When they went to look, no one was there. Doors that used to slowly creak open, as if blown by the wind, instead started to rattle the frame with force as they opened or slammed in the middle of the night. The husband looked particularly miffed when he groused about the TV going on at odd hours of the night, while his wife seemed more concerned about the possibility of someone having broken in and the fact that it kept doubling in intensity as time went on. The list went on and on about their complaints ranging from things being moved around to always finding a light turned on in a room in the middle of the night. There most certainly was something going on if all of what they were saying was true.

The glaring parade of red flags that easily would send others running for the hills lured you in. Like a dog with a scent, you weren't going to drop the trail, oh no. You were there to sink your teeth and claws in and not let go. Come hell, heaven, or high water - nothing would stopping you.

True to your title, you were a paranormal investigator which warranted a lot more work and professionalism than the standard ghost hunters you saw on TV who couldn't tell the difference between a gust of wind and a ghost. Your job was to research, conduct a proper paranormal investigation, and provide your evidence - or lack of, if it was truly devoid of haunting. But here hardly sounded like it.

Taking your time and reassuring them that you were, indeed, a professional, you went over all the usual questions with them: when did this start, how old is your house, any history of deaths in it, have you acquired any new items recently, do you have any items that were second hand or antique, any family heirlooms in the house, was it in any particular location, etc etc.

Every angle had to be considered, especially the mundane. Plenty of times, people just had a poorly constructed house, deeply held superstitions, and a touch of paranoia to make for a perfect combination of nothing happening at all. That didn’t seem to be the case here, however. While none of their answers pointed in a clear direction of what it might be, it still all pointed to signs of something unworldly happening. But that's what you were there for. To determine if there actually was a ghost, why it was there, and maybe who it was (if things went well and it felt like cooperating). 

You bid them a good night as they headed off with family friends in a beat up convertible, chattering away without a care in the world as if they didn’t have a paranormal parasite problem. At least they were going to go enjoy their night by having an evening out instead of breathing down your neck like some of those who hired you. Locking the door, you trudged in with your gear and began the initial inspection with practiced ease.

A haunting in a house as young and modern as theirs was quite unusual. Open, airy rooms completed with white, sleek, almost eye-hurtingly clean interiors made up the entirety of the house. Even as night crawled higher and higher into the sky, pulling its dark cloak over the land, the house stayed bright. Nothing about it said haunted or caught your eye. The scariest thing there was likely the heating bill. 

As far as your research showed, there hadn't been a death in it or on the land. The owners also seemed quite appalled at the idea of antiques (go figure) so that went right out the window, too. Normally there might be some stashed somewhere that they weren't thinking about, like the attic, but this house didn’t even have that. No basement, no attic, no creepy graveyard in the back; it was a normal, suburban house that shouldn’t have anything going on.

Perusing the house at a leisurely pace, you browsed each and every room with a thorough consciousness of finding something, anything, that could possibly have started it. Yet you turned up empty handed. Everything was as pure and alabaster as the marble countertops and the expensive sleek metal furniture. 

Oh well, not every job would be easy. And not every haunted house was obligated to look run-down and rustic. Some ghosts just had more upper class tastes - or were unfortunate enough to be stuck in an eyesore like this. Maybe a ghost would add some actual personality to their home...

Seeing as they'd said there wasn't exactly a rhyme or reason as to where things would happen, you decided a central room was your best bet. The living room was open enough for everything and an easy place any spirits could find. It had plenty of room for your equipment and the open layout meant you had a great vantage point for the whole house.

Preparing your gear came as naturally as breathing to you, the tasks you've done dozens of times over were a matter of habit. Moving through the motions was your second nature as you worked, not batting an eye as you checked batteries and strategically stationed your gear. It only took a matter of minutes to have your cameras, light system, motion activated interactable objects, ghost box, and the rest of your fancy gadgets set up all around the room.

Placed on the coffee table was your heaviest piece of equipment - your modified spirit box that you had made some special adjustments to just to make sure your results were as accurate as possible. The broken antenna and attached amp weren't standard, nor were the noise reducers, but they stood as a testament to why you were a professional and why you kept getting called out to different places. You knew how to get results and tuned every tiny thing to your needs. There was no room for error or doubt alike in an already uncertain field.

Double checking everything was ready to go once more once more, you plunged the room into somewhat true darkness as you drew the curtains shut and pressed the button on the spirit box, causing it to crackle to life. Speeding through the static of radio stations, it scanned the many frequencies in a blur, far too fast for any natural noise to come through. The whirring of it evened out into a constant, muffled background noise that you’d spent countless hours listening to. Its familiar hum lulled you into a relaxed state, your heart as steady as your calm breaths despite the slight buzz of familiar adrenaline you always felt when you first started. A small beep signaled the successful activation of the digital thermometer as you walked around in a slow, even pace, checking all around. 

Taking a deep breath, you began as you always had. In a confident, but even tone you called out, “Is there anyone with me right now?”

....

........

Silence.

The static of the spirit box continued to filter through in its usual constant churning hum of white noise. Typical. Many supernatural beings wouldn't want to interact, especially not at first. You don't blame them. If a stranger barged into your house and demanded if you were there, pestering you with questions as threw their belongings around, you'd not want to answer them either. That wasn’t even considering that many were so unused to people hearing them or trying to talk to them, not at them. They didn't exactly register on the same frequency that humans did most of the time.

Walking around the room, your boots echoed on the tile flooring. Your footsteps ricocheted off of the high ceilings, amplified by the lofty ceiling and wonderful acoustics this house apparently had. Keeping your attention ever shifting, you kept alert for signs of anything happening. Looking too long in the dark and expecting things to happen would only yield false results and cause paranoia. You knew far better than to do that. 

Nothing lit up, nothing beeped, nothing changed. There was conclusively nothing happening for the first few, long minutes as everything kept at an unwavering constant. Visiting each room, you rechecked their temperatures and tried to find anything amiss or out of place. Yet all seemed well, still, and normal.

Only when you crossed the hallway back into the living room after a quick visit to the bedrooms did your hair stand on end. A chill ran down your spine, the once warm air now holding the barest bite of cold on the edge. Holding up the thermometer, you narrowed your eyes at the steady decrease. While it wasn't quite freezing, it kept dropping and dropping. Numbers ticked lower and lower, your hair stood further on end as a small shiver ran through you as the chill dipped lower and lower. Bingo. First sign of activity of the night. It wasn’t much but it was plenty to know that something was happening here.

Despite the crisp chill, nothing else shifted in the room. Silence prevailed behind the distant drone of your equipment; mainly the comforting, steady typical static of the spirit box. Even the appliances seemed to have gone quiet, exchanging their usual low thrumming rhythm for a break that suspended them in a noiseless limbo.

Your shifting movements echoed far louder than you would have liked as you paced around the room, looking for something new, anything. An actual tangible reaction you could record would be just what you needed but so far, the haunt was holding out.  “What is your name?” You asked, keeping your voice as steady as you can as you tried to switch it up. 

Continual feedback from the spirit box sounded as steady as can be. Still, there was no voice trying to get through it. The fabricated noise reigned supreme as it did its job, whirring away. Pressing your lips into a thin line, the smallest hint of a frown tugged at your lips as disappointment flickered through you. Okay, that's fine. It usually took a few tries anyways. 

A faint, sparkling crackle escaped from it as you heard one, tiny word in a rumbling timbre. One, single word that halted you mid step, your head snapping towards the machine. 

“Ghost.”

Doing a double take, a grin split across your face as your heart jumped with joy. A response! A true, actual response. Not that it exactly answered your question but it meant something was listening.

There was something here!

Nearly tripping over your own feet, you scampered over to your beloved machine. Your eyes fixated on the glowing orange screen, gleaming with glee. 

“W-what’s your name?” You repeat a bit louder unable to hide the excited tremble in your voice or hands, figuring the ghost likely didn't hear you right. 

Static white noise continued for a few seconds, the little x in the corner flashed once, twice, before it lit up solidly. 

“Ghost.”

The smile you held dropped only for a fraction of a second before you cleared your throat. Well, maybe your slight stutter and excitement got in the way. You did talk fast when excited, after all. Taking a deep breath, undeterred as can be, you repeated in a far steadier voice, “What is your name?”

This time you made sure to enunciate every single syllable, speaking clear and confidently into the air. 

One flashing X glowed in the corner of the screen. Another flash. A third. Fourth. Fifth.

Yet again, the deep voice came a bit louder and rougher this time. A thick Mancunian accent that barely picked up through the filter didn't dull the single word you were trying to avoid, “Ghost.”

Okay. Your brows furrowed deeper, your nose wrinkling slightly as your heart sank. The minor disappointment couldn't be kept off of your face as you really had hoped to hear something else. Approach one clearly isn't working. 

Maybe he didn't speak English. Or maybe he wasn't sure that he was dead. Whatever. There was a ghost and he was answering, that's what mattered, you reminded yourself forcefully until the smile came back to your face and the smallest bit of a headache dissipated. Focus on that. Not on the slight annoyance you felt and the agitated twitch of your fingers.

Exhaling, you pursed your lips. Your grip retightened on your flashlight as you racked through questions in your mind, trying to find something that it would have to answer differently too. 

“Can you do something?”

Hopeful, your eyes trailed around the room, praying that maybe the ghost would do something like interact with the many objects scattered about, or even the motion sensors. 

Nothing happened for a few long moments, silence once again prevailing in the otherwise empty house.

Orange light flashed from the spirit box as the X lit up again, only for a second before the dreaded word repeated itself. 

“Ghost.”

Before you could ask what that even meant, or curse it out for that matter, the spirit box and your flashlight shut off, plunging you into true darkness. The flashlight nearly flew from your hands in surprise as you flinched instinctually, your heart leaping into your throat. Frantically flickering the button of your trusty tool did nothing as you desperately tried to turn on your one source of light with the only way you knew how - only to be met with the continual sight of empty, non-shining bulbs. 

Curses spilled from your lips in all the languages you knew as you fumbled for a battery pack, only to find them missing. What? But you swore that they were right there -- ugh, nevermind. This just wasn't going to be your night.

The initial panic subsided as the chill left the air, the residual regular warmth of the house sinking into the room as if blown in by a lazy breeze. Your hair still stood on end as you walked around with cautious, hesitant steps, having given up on the flashlight. There wasn't coming back from that.

It's only when you approached the spirit box, trying to turn it on to no avail, that you realized what he meant. You asked him to do something and he obliged.

He ghosted you. 

God fucking damn it. 

As you glared at the air in frustration, threw your hands up and personally cursed the fiend, you could've sworn you heard a resonating chuckle behind you as breath brushed against the nape of your neck in a way that sent shivers down your spine for a whole new reason.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | March 4th-10th 2024

IT'S PREMIERE WEEK!!!!

Complete

🔥Eddie Diaz vs The Feelings by ElvenSorceress/ @elvensorceress (S6, Sexuality Crisis, Demisexual Eddie | 62K | Explicit): Eddie dives into the mysteries of attraction, romantic love, and asexuality because there's a good chance he's fallen in love with his best friend. AKA demisexual!Eddie figures out he’s demi and finds the happily ever after he’s been longing for

🔥 tell me that i’m all you want (even when i break your heart) by asteriasera/ @asteriasera (Post-S6, Exes to Lovers | 12K | Teen): Buck and Eddie kiss one night, fall in love and don’t say it, then forget to fall out of it when they break up and try to move on with their lives.

Buddie, You're Hot by chronicallystendan (Coming Out, Friends to Fiances | 1K | Teen): Buck is helping Eddie get ready for a date when he ends up outing himself as bi – something he thought Eddie already knew. Wasn't it obvious? - Eddie pursed his lips as he tried not to laugh. "Careful," he said. "That sounded a little bit gay." "A little?" Buck snorted. "Eddie, if you weren't straight, I would be all over you." Eddie's lips parted in surprise and his eyebrows pinched together slightly. "What?"

You Should've Just Kissed Me by chronicallystendan (Post S6E13: Mixed Feelings, Misunderstanding | 2K | Teen): Set after the Poker Date Night, Buck overhears Eddie talking about being set up on a date and wonders aloud why Eddie doesn't just explain that he's already in a relationship - with Buck. -

I'd shine up the old brown shoes, I'd put on a brand-new shirt by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (S7 Spec | 3K | Teen): Chris is going on his first date. Eddie calls Buck for backup.

how's your head? (haven't had any complaints) by bucksclipboard (Pre-Buddie | 2K | Mature): When he glanced over, Buck had already drifted off to sleep. He looked so innocent, Eddie almost couldn’t believe what had come out of his mouth mere seconds ago. Almost. Because he was 100 percent sure he’d heard it. or: you can’t just make this kind of joke and forget about it

a place where i feel at home by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Established Buddie | 3K | General): Moments like these remind Buck how much Eddie knows and loves him. Others would push and push Buck when he’s tired and struggling with his words, trying and failing to string together his thoughts, which he can barely do when he’s wide awake and alert. But Eddie never pushes. OR: Sleepy Buck wants cuddles with his boyfriend.

Cooperative Species of the Southern Coastal Husbro by Mad_Lori/ @madlori (Future Fic, Buddie Wedding, Outsider POV | 11K | Teen): In which Abby Clark attends Buck and Eddie's wedding. (Part 6 of Life Cycles of the Southern Coastal Husbro)

a madman and a minstrel by Maira/ @carrierofthepaperclips (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): ...or, the one where Eddie is drugged and confesses his feelings for Buck. To Buck.

and i always will by Maira/ @carrierofthepaperclips (Getting Together | 2K | Mature): ... or, the one where Eddie answers the wrong phone.

Through The Open Window by inkinmyheartandonthepage (Madney Wedding, Getting Together | 2K | General): At the reception of Maddie and Chimney wedding, Eddie stumbles across a Buckley sibling moment and overhears something he probably wasn't meant to hear just yet.

The Night Shift by Veronae (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): “I think I’m in love with Eddie.” Heart pounding against his breastbone, Eddie gripped the handrail of the staircase so hard his fingers turned numb. Buck. That was Buck’s voice.

lay your cards down, down, down by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Post-S6, , Married in Vegas | 6K | Mature): Buck and Eddie get drunk at Chim's bachelor party and wake up married.

For the rest of my life (for the rest of yours) by JamesPearce911/ @diazsdimples (Post-S6, Established (secret) Buddie | 10K | General): OR Buck, Eddie and Christopher go to the zoo to see the baby hippo and Eddie gets all up in his feels about it.

normal again? by disasterbuckdiaz/ @disasterbuckdiaz (S7 Spec | 1K | General): Buck and Eddie talk in the gym about what happened at the cruise call

take my hand (take my whole life too) by Maira/ @carrierofthepaperclips (Magical Realism AU | 5K | Teen): ... or, the one where Buck thinks he's allergic to Eddie.

Fractals from the Lightning Bolt by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (One Shots Collection | 52/54 | 95K | Not Rated): A collection of oneshots, some originally posted on tumblr. Each chapter is individually rated.

52. Release the Swimmers (PWP, Explicit)

WIP

🔥 because we'll all arrive in heaven alive by callmenewbie/ @puppyboybuckley (Post-S6, Disaster Fic | 8/10 | 51K | Explicit): During a search and rescue, Eddie disappears without a trace, leaving Buck to grapple with the sudden possibility of a life without him.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 121/? | 369K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 5/18 | 32K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @sherlockcrossing (Prompt collection | 28/? | 18K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

28. 17. Sliding your hands down your lover's chest 

🔥 if i need to rearrange my particles — i will for you. by dylaesthetics (Post-S6, Identity Porn | 9/11 | 22K | Teen): OR Buck joins a support app for first responders and matches with a firefighter who has PTSD and a kid who likes giraffes, apparently.

[anniebeemine]

for @i-live-in-spite, hope you enjoy pookie

Every Saturday morning, you find yourself eagerly anticipating the sweet aroma of sizzling batter and maple syrup filling The Reid's kitchen. The ritual has become as comforting as it is predictable: you, Spencer, and his daughter, Naomi, transforming the kitchen into a cozy waffle-making haven.

Spencer stood beside her, watching carefully as she poured the batter. He would wince when he knocked the waffle off, pinching and dragging it onto a place. Naomi insisted she could do all of it herself. Spencer would have trusted her if he hadn't already let her make toast. He turned his back just in time to stop her from using a butter knife to unstick the bread from the sides.

For the past few months, you’ve become a cherished part of their weekend routine. Initially, you had been hesitant about embracing parenthood. Your life had been focused on other ambitions and dreams, and the idea of raising a child had never quite fit into your plans. But everything changed when you met Naomi.

The first time you saw Naomi, her wide eyes brimming with curiosity and mischief, something inside you shifted. Her energy was contagious, and her innocence, combined with her boundless curiosity, made you see life from a different perspective—a perspective filled with simple joys and profound connections.

You had been introduced to Naomi during a casual visit to Spencer’s apartment, and it didn’t take long for you to become enchanted by her vibrant spirit. You started coming over more often, eagerly joining in the Saturday morning breakfast preparations. The sight of Naomi’s ponytail bobbing as she decorated her waffles with a colorful array of toppings filled you with a sense of delight you hadn’t expected.

Today was no different. The apartment buzzed with the familiar clatter of kitchen utensils and the sound of laughter. Spencer, clad in his trusty apron, expertly flipped waffles while Naomi stood beside him, her own apron slightly askew as she focused intently on stirring the batter. She would occasionally adjust the chef's hat on her head.

You'd been instructed to take a seat at the kitchen table, a plastic fork in hand.

"Be our guest!" Naomi shouted when she opened the door to the apartment for you. She had placed her stuffed animals across the table, patting your leg and instructing you to chat. "They're nice. Pinky promise."

You did so, looking at the purple hippo. "I know right! This restaurant is so nice!" You pretended to wait for a response. "I'll have to try the quiche next time."

Naomi turned. "Who serves keys at a restaurant?" She asked.

Spencer panicked as her hand came dangerously close to the iron. "No, baby, quiche."

She looked up at him. "I don't get it." She thought about it. "Like capisce?"

Spencer chuckled softly at Naomi’s confusion, shaking his head as he continued to keep a watchful eye on the waffle iron. “Not quite, sweetheart. Quiche is a type of food—like a pie but with eggs and cheese. It’s really tasty.”

Naomi scrunched up her face, considering this new information as she carefully stirred the batter, her concentration evident in the way she moved the spoon in slow, deliberate circles. “I think I’ll stick to waffles,” she declared with the confidence only a six-year-old could muster.

Spencer gave you a sidelong glance, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’re in for a treat, then. Naomi’s waffles are becoming famous around here.”

You laughed, glancing around at the stuffed animals arranged at the table. “Well, I’m honored to be in such esteemed company,” you said, nodding at the plush hippo, who seemed to be staring at you with its unblinking, beady eyes.

Naomi beamed with pride as she poured the last of the batter into the waffle iron, the sizzle of the batter hitting the hot plates filling the kitchen. “Okay, this one’s almost ready!” she announced, stepping back to let Spencer handle the final steps.

As the waffle iron clamped shut, Naomi turned to you with a serious expression. “Now, you have to wait patiently, okay? It’s almost done.”

You nodded solemnly, playing along. “I promise, I’ll be the best guest ever.”

She grinned, pleased with your cooperation, and skipped over to the table, where she began adjusting the positions of her stuffed animals, making sure everyone was seated properly. The sight of her so engrossed in her task tugged at your heartstrings, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how this little girl had managed to bring so much light into your life.

A few moments later, Spencer lifted the lid of the waffle iron, revealing a perfectly golden waffle, steam rising from its crisp edges. Naomi carefully carried it over to the table, her little hands steady as she placed the waffle on a plate. She took extra care to decorate it with a circle of whipped cream and a generous sprinkle of colorful sprinkles before presenting it to you with a proud smile.

“Here you go! A special heart waffle, just for you!” Naomi exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement as she watched your reaction.

"This looks delicious, Chef Naomi." You used the plastic fork to cut into it, struggling.

Naomi turned, pointing to the knife block. "Daddy, can we have the big knife?"

Spencer hummed. "How about a butter knife?" He said, handing her a dull one from the drawer.

You smiled warmly as Naomi carefully cut the waffle for you, her little hands holding the butter knife with determination. “You’re doing a great job, Chef Naomi,” you reassured her, watching as she expertly divided the waffle into neat sections, just like you always did for her.

Naomi looked up at you, a hint of frustration in her eyes as she handed the plate back to you. “I tried, Y/N. But Daddy doesn’t trust me with the big knife.”

Spencer chuckled softly from where he stood by the counter, his eyes filled with a mixture of amusement and protectiveness. “It’s not about trust, sweetheart. It’s about keeping you safe. Besides, you did an excellent job with the butter knife, didn’t you?”

Naomi pouted a little, clearly not entirely convinced, but the pride in her work won out. “Yeah, I guess so,” she admitted, her lips curving into a small smile as she watched you take another bite of the waffle.

You made a show of savoring the taste, closing your eyes as if you were in a fancy restaurant. “This is the best waffle I’ve ever had. I think Chef Naomi could open her own restaurant one day.”

Naomi’s eyes lit up at the compliment, her earlier frustration forgotten. “Really? You think so?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, nodding enthusiastically. “And I’d be your first customer.”

Spencer smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of Naomi’s head. “And I’ll be the sous-chef,” he added, making her giggle.

The three of you settled into a comfortable rhythm, sharing the breakfast that had become more than just a meal—it was a moment of connection, of love, and of building memories together. As you watched Naomi happily chat with her stuffed animals, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of fulfillment.

This was what it meant to be part of a family, and you were grateful every day for the little chef who had shown you that.

Read more about Naomi and Spencer