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ballroamblitz · 1 year ago

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caramel pie | J.P

summary: james smells caramel pie on the amortentia potion

james potter x fem!reader

word count: 3.750 content: teeth rotting fluff, angst warnings: crying, reader blushes notes: one thing about me is i love me some amortentia fic with a side of james fluff ughh also i listened to glue song by beabadoobee while writing this :) p.s i accidentally posted this on my side acc so if anyone wanna be mutuals my main blog is @beastofbrden :)

- Someone please, kindly remind me why I decided that continuing Herbology after the O.W.Ls was a good idea? - Y/N huffed out, sitting at the Gryffindor table for lunch.

The four boys sitting around her laughed.

- Learned a lot today, uh? - Sirius asked, ironically.

- Oh yeah, loads! We had to feed toad flesh to those terrible toad-eating plants. For some reason, mine just didn't feel like eating it without regurgitating it all back on me!

The boys went hysterics, and even the girl couldn't help but laugh along.

- There's still a little piece there - James pointed. - Here, let me take it out for you.

He took out a small chunk of toad flesh off her hair.

- Well, may I remind you, Y/N, that no one told you to keep up with Herbology. We all dipped from it while we could and no one else has pieces of toad on our hair - Sirius noted, clearly getting a good laugh out of the girl's toad disaster.

- I just didn't want to hurt Sprout's feelings!

She sighed and brushed her hair with her fingers, only then looking at the food in front of her.

- Merlin, I'm starving! Could eat anything right now.

- Even toad? - Remus joked, sending the group on another laughing crisis.

By the time of dessert, Y/N started scanning the table for something. Clearly not finding it, her panic started showing.

- Oh no. Where's the caramel pie?

- They didn't serve any today - James replied, needing all the strength on his body to stay deadpanned. The other three boys were deep in conversation, and him being the one sitting closer to Y/N (as always) only he noticed the girl's agitation.

- What??? What do you mean they didn't serve any? In the six years I've been here they never not served it and I can't believe they chose today to…

- I'm just joking - James pulled a plate that was hidden behind the steak pudding, smiling playfully at the girl - Saved it for ya.

- James! I would go mad if they stopped serving this pie, y'know! - she let out a relieved breath.

- Nah, don't worry. They will keep serving it, or I would fight the elfs for ya.

- One day I’ll hide your figgy pudding, then we’ll see.

- You wouldn’t dare, missy.

James watched with a soft look on his eyes as the girl took the first bite of her favorite dessert.

- Thank you for saving me a piece, Jamie - she leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment to show gratitude. When she got closer, he smelled the vanilla scent of her hair and the caramel pie on her lips.

After lunch, the five went straight to Slughorn's classroom.

- Good evening, dears, good evening! Now if you could get up and get closer, I want to show you something!

The whole class shifted near the table Slughorn was sitting behind.

- Here, we have a very special potion. - He pointed towards a bubbling caldron full of a crystal clear liquid - Very tricky to make, very characteristic and perhaps one of the most dangerous we can brew. Can anyone tell me it's name?

Y/N's hand rose in the air.

- Yes, ms. Y/L/N.

- It's Amortentia, or simply the love potion. Since true love can't really be produced by any sort of magic, it causes more of a crush or an obsession.

- Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor! - Slughorn smiled.

- Nerd - James whispered, messing up Y/N’s hair.

- Sod off, Potter.

- You see, one of the most intriguing things about Amortentia is its scent. Everyone smells something different, because its scent is completely dependent on what each person feels personally attracted to. Now, who wants to come forward and tell me what it smells like?

No one volunteered. No wonder, since it's a very particular thing to simply say in front of a whole classroom.

- No one? I'll pick someone then. Let me think... - Slughorn scanned the faces around. - Ah! Mr. Potter, you will do.

James was caught by surprise. He had been distracted by the warmth radiating off Y/N, that was almost resting her head on his chest.

- Me? - he asked and pointed towards himself.

- Of course you! Is there any other Mr. Potter?

The whole class laughed as James stepped closer, his signature boyish grin splashed on his face.

- Now Mr. Potter, lean in and smell the potion.

James ran his hands through his hair and did as told. One single sniff and his smile fell off his face completely. The scent was unmistakable: vanilla and caramel pie. Vanilla body cream, caramel pie for dessert, everyday. He had the urge to see if Y/N wasn't standing next to him, but he knew she hadn't moved from across the table. He knew he had to lie. If he said what it smelled like to him, everyone would know it was Y/N's smell.

- So, Mr. Potter. Whenever you are ready to share.

He looked at where Y/N was. She was looking at him, just as well as everyone else. She looked relaxed, the potion's glow making her look specially pretty, angel-like. Think of something, fast. Something not at all related to what you are really smelling, something like...

- It’s wood and broomstick polisher.

- Very well then Mr. Potter. Looks like you've got a thing for Quidditch, uh?

The class laughed, and everyone looked convinced. James Potter, Quidditch captain, smelling broomstick polisher and wood? Fitting. James high-fived himself for his quick thinking, and let out a relieved sight. Now, no one would go around thinking the wrong things.

Later that night, in the common room, however, the potions class was almost burning a hole through James' head. Slughorn said Amortentia smelled of what attracted each person the most. Attraction was romantic, sexual attraction. But Slughorn had been pretty vague, hadn't he? He could've meant attraction in any context. It could mean anything. It could mean platonic love, right? If Slughorn didn't think much of James smelling Quidditch, it probably meant it could smell of anything the person liked a lot, right? But it was a love potion. That caused passion. And Slughorn said he had a thing for Quidditch. A thing. But he didn't have a thing for Y/N! He loved her, of course. Everyone knew she was his best friend, they did everything together and she was probably his favorite person in the world. Yeah, maybe he went to extreme lengths to see her happy, and yeah, maybe he was a bit too affectionate with her, but she was his best friend.

- Can't do homework anymore. - James was ripped off his thoughts by Y/N's presence. She threw her backpack at the ground in front of the sofa he was in and layed down - My brain feels like mush.

James looked at her. Her head was resting on his lap, and she looked extremely comfortable. That was obvious, since they always had been this affectionate towards each other. They both were very touchy people, and it felt natural to be in constant physical contact. James was always happy, eager even, to be like this with her. In a platonic way. Obviously. Today, however, her skin on his felt like it burned.

- How was it? - James asked, coughing to conceal the way his voice failed a bit in the first word.

- Homework? Awful. It's not that difficult, but it's too much. And it just seems pointless, you know? What will I actually learn from writing 19 inches about toad eating plants? Nothing, I tell you what! - The girl sighed and closed her eyes again - Just wanna go to sleep, really.

He didn't know what to answer. He normally would have made a joke about the plants, added more criticism about essays or something. But he didn’t even do his homework, with how paranoid he was. For the first time ever, he was completely speechless in her presence. Her eyelashes were resting peacefully on her pink cheeks. The light from the fireplace made her skin look more flushed, and her hair had a golden glow to it. She looked awfully pretty. James knew that, of course. She had always been pretty. But tonight.. when she moved her head a little bit, he smelled the amortentia smell. Vanilla and caramel pie, just as strong as it was that afternoon.

- You are way too quiet today, Jamie. - She opened her eyes and he felt something weird in the pit of his stomach - Ate too much pudding?

- Yeah, probably.

She stretched and yawned, sending another wave of vanilla and caramel pie to James' nostrils.

- Going to bed - she got up. Her hair was messy and the light from the fireplace behind her looked like a halo. - Night, Jamie.

She lowered herself and pecked his cheek lightly.

- Sleep well - her soft voice was way too close to his ear, turning James' legs into jelly.

He watched her going up the stairs to the dormitory, and the place she had kissed burned long after she was gone.

He had no reason to be this nervous for the potions class the next morning. Slughorn had already moved on from amortentia, since it was a difficult, dangerous and time-consuming potion to make, but James was half hoping the potion would be brought up again, and half hoping everyone would collectively forget about it completely. Slughorn didn't mention the potion again, moving on directly to Felix Felicis. He watched the whole class on the edge of his seat. He had decided he would ask the teacher about the potion just to calm himself down. Just to make sure. Everyone had been really concentrating on making the best draught of living death the whole period, but James just wanted the class to end so he could ask Slughorn and stop eating himself alive.

- Alright, alright. Congratulations mr. Snape on your draught. Truly outstanding! - Slughorn said, raising a round of applause - Class dismissed!

Everyone started to gather their backpacks and leave, but James made sure to stay back. He pretended to be very interested in a weird type of algae that Slughorn kept in a little ampoule. Just a few more moments and then he'll say that no, I don't have romantic feelings for Y/N and that i just really like caramel pie or something, and then i'll stop going mental...

- Gillyweed. - Slughorn’s voice dragged James off of his daydreams

- Uh? - James frowned in confusion, wondering what the teacher was talking about.

- The algae you're looking at, Mr. Potter. Gillyweed. Helps the person breathe underwater.

- Oh, yeah, right. Professor Slughorn, I was wondering if I could ask you something.

- Sure, my boy, ask away - Slughorn encouraged while distractingly stacking some parchments.

- I was wondering… about the Amortentia potion.

Slughorn stopped his movements and lifted his eyes directly to James.

- Oh, I see - He looked very amused, for some reason. - What were you wondering?

- Let's just say a friend of mine smells it and it reminds him of someone. It could smell like someone he just truly cares about, couldn't it? Like, it doesn't necessarily mean he's in love with the person that the scent reminds him of, right?

Slughorn's lopsided smile grew bigger.

- I'm afraid, no, my boy.

- What? - James felt like the classroom got three times smaller and hotter by the minute - But I smelled wood and polishing oil, and I'm not in love with a broom, am i?

- Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter... - Slughorn chuckled. - I think we both know you didn't smell any of that.

James felt his face getting warm and red.

- But, if you did, that would mean you have a crush on a Quidditch player, let's just put it like that. Amortentia is a very strong love potion, and we can only smell things in it that romantically attract us very deeply. Those of us that aren't in love with anyone would smell something quite abstract. But if this friend of yours smelled amortentia and recognized the scent as someone's, then boy do I have news for him. Does this answer your question?

- Hm, yeah, sure. - James agreed. He felt like he was gonna fall down from the absurd speed at which his mind was racing. - Thank you, Professor.

- Anytime. - James began to leave, completely out of it. - Oh, and Mr. Potter?

- Yes? - James turned around, hopeful that Slughorn would start laughing and admit he was joking.

- Tell your friend I wish him the best of luck with this new, blossoming love.

As James went out of the classroom and up into the common room, he deeply regretted not stealing that ampoule of gillyweed and swallowing it whole. That way, he could spend the rest of his days in the black lake with the merpeople. I bet amortentia wouldn't smell like anything down there, he thought.

For the rest of the week, James spent every waking hour trying to not think about what Slughorn said and what it meant, and he was succeeding. He kept himself busy with classes, Quidditch and even homework. He also did his absolute best to avoid everyone. He ate before anyone else and made sure he was far away from the great hall by the time he knew Y/N and the rest of the Marauders would go down to eat. In classes, he sat very distant and left early. He even pulled some pranks he didn't even feel like pulling on Filch to get detention in the nights he couldn't schedule Quidditch practices. He walked the halls in the invisibility cloak. Anything to keep his thoughts away from the big fire alarm going off inside his head. The only problem was that he missed Y/N in all of those moments. When he was doing homework, he missed the sound of Y/N's pen scratching the parchment next to him. While he ate, he missed the warmth of her body next to his, the satisfaction humming while she ate her pie . He missed laying down together after homework. He missed seeing her on the stands at practice. He even realized that the real fun in pranks wasn't the actual thing, but to see Y/N laughing hysterically afterwards. To put it quite simply, it felt like he was sleep walking all the time. He couldn’t go on avoiding her forever, but what he was gonna do, he had positively no idea.

Until Friday night.

It was late, and he had been in detention. Filch had made him write “I shall not turn the school’s trophies into pigeons” a hundred times, and his hand was hurting from all the repetitive writing. Normally, he would have complained, but this time, he was glad for the distraction. Enjoying detention, he thought bitterly while crossing the fat lady, I must be really going mad. His grouchy thoughts were interrupted by a sound. It sounded like.. crying. Or better yet, it sounded like someone was sobbing their heart out. He looked around the empty common room, but didn’t see anyone. He followed the sound to the sofa near the fireplace, where he and Y/N always rest after studying. Before you turned into a chicken.

Y/N was laid on the sofa, her face buried in a cushion, her whole body shaking with her sobs. James was flooded with panic.

- Y/N, baby, what happened? - he cooed, his voice altered with anxiety. Y/N never cried, except when something very serious happened.

Y/N looked up like she thought she was seeing visions.

- Jamie? - her voice was soft and shaky, her eyes were puffy and bloodshot red, like she had been crying for multiple hours. The hurt on her eyes broke James’ heart in a thousand pieces.

His mind raced with possibilities: maybe someone was mean to her? Maybe someone died? Maybe she was hurt? The thought of her being in pain panicked him even further. He sat down and pushed her into his lap, laying her head on his shoulder.

- Are you hurt, baby? Where does it hurt? Please, tell me.

She cried violently on his shoulder. He inspected her legs for bruises, but she seemed well physically.

- Y/N, tell me what’s wrong, I can’t stand to see you like this - he begged. - Did someone hurt you?

The question seemed to trigger something on the girl, because suddenly she was on her feet, out of his arms.

- Did someone hurt me? Seriously? - the tears streamed down her face, but her eyes glimmered with something new: anger.

James was confused, to say the least. He noticed that she was wearing one of his old sweaters, one that had vanished from his suitcase a few weeks ago.

- Baby...- he begged some more.

She looked as if he had twisted a knife on her wound.

- Don’t you dare “baby” me, James. Not after ignoring me like the plague for a whole week!

Oh. Oh. James had been so involved with his own confusion regarding the amortentia incident that he forgot almost completely that Y/N didn’t know what he was doing, or why. She was crying because he hurt her feelings. That was a lot worse than if she was crying because of another person: he could’ve gone out to kick said jerk’s ass. But if he hurt her, what was he supposed to do? Punch himself?

-Y/N - he cooed, apologetically. - Y/N, I…

She showed him her palm, urging him to stop talking.

- You don’t have to explain wanting to be away from me. I’m sure you had your reasons. But you could have at least told me that you wanted some space from me, or something, because I’ve been miserable, and…

She thought he wanted space from her. The sorrowful shaky breath that escaped her lips mid-sentence threw him over the edge.

- No, no, no… - he repeated while pushing her back into his lap - Oh my god, Y/N, no…

He caressed her hair while she sobbed violently on his shoulder. Her fists were closed tightly on his shirt, her tears dampened his neck, and he couldn’t recall the last time his heart ached this badly.

- Did I do something? Did I bother you? I’m so sorry.. - she whispered softly, like she was voicing what had been repeating in her head over and over again during the last few days. Her words were laced with anger, resentment, but, above all, hurt. He wanted to double over in pain.

- Listen - James lifted her chin up gently, forcing her to look into his eyes. - I’m the one who’s sorry.

The tears kept coming, but she was listening.

- I shouldn’t have avoided you last week, and it’s not your fault, okay? It’s my fault. I’m the one who got scared.

She looked confused.

- Scared? Of me?

James would have to confess what happened at Slughorn’s class. He had given zero thought about his messy feelings, and even though unraveling them in front of Y/N scared him endlessly, he would have to do it, because he could never let her think that he wanted space from her. That he wanted anything but to be close to her, at all times, if he could.

- Please - she asked, incisively, noticing his wariness. - Tell me.

He took a deep breath, feeling vulnerable, raw. As if he would undress himself fully in front of her.

- Remember Slughorn’s class about amortentia? - Y/N nodded, encouraging him to move on - He asked me to smell it, right, and I…

- You said it smelled like broom polisher.

- Well, yes. But I lied. - he decided to avert his gaze to the ceiling, or else he would never talk. - It was caramel pie and vanilla cream. So, I smelled… you.

Silence. A moment, two. He couldn’t muster the courage to look at the girl. He felt her hand grazing his cheek, urging him to look at her..

- Jamie… - She looked wonderstruck, and his heart seemed like it wanted out of his chest - Really?

- Really.

James was sure he’d never seen something as beautiful as Y/N after his response. She was smiling the biggest, most shiny smile he had ever seen on her face. Her eyes shined like gemstones at him, so soft he wanted to cry.

- Do you want to know what I smelled? - she asked, soft as a feather.

His heart somersaulted when she brought her face closer to the side of his neck. She whispered on his ear:

- I smelled… - She sniffed his neck once - Sandalwood - another sniff, followed by a chuckle - Broomstick polisher…

She distanced herself, looking deep into his eyes.

- And homework parchment. And fireplace naps. And figgy pudding.

His heart was hammering against his ribcage. Y/N smelled him. On the amortentia potion. Him.

- Y/N - James whispered, all warm and fuzzy on the inside. - Really?

She didn’t answer, just grabbed his hand, the warmth and softness of her skin overwhelming his senses. Placed his hand on top of the point of her chest where her heart was. Through the fabric of his shirt, he could feel her heart beating faster than a hummingbird's. She never unglued her soft eyes from his.

She likes him. Suddenly, all the thoughts he had been avoiding throughout the week came crashing down on him, like a dam.

James was an affectionate friend. He liked physical touch. But he never liked it half as much as he did with her. James was a thoughtful friend. He remembered things about his friends. But he remembered every single thing about her. He was a sensitive friend. He hated to see his friends suffering. But every time he saw her cry, it was like his heart was being crushed. James was an attentive friend. He loved spending time with friends. But when he was away from her, he couldn’t even function properly, like he was missing one half of him. Y/N is his best friend. But she is more, too. He loves her. But there’s something else: he is in love. Amortentia never lies, after all.

When his hands tangled on Y/N’s hair, he smelled vanilla cream. When he kissed Y/N’s lips, he tasted caramel pie.

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #amortentia #the marauders x reader #the marauders era #the marauders #fluff #harry potter imagine

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lucysarah-c · 5 months ago

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Hello! Hope you're doing well!

I wanna know all about your thoughts on arguments with Levi. What would he be like during it, and after it, maybe even before it (maybe like a big argument that's just been brewing yk until either side snaps and ut starts). How would he apologize if he was the one in the wrong? Or how would he accept apologies if it's the other way around? Would he be down to communicate? What if his partner started crying during said argument or stormed out of the room/house?

Thank you! And I really love your account, btw!

Hi, hi! How are you? How are your loved ones doing? ❤️ Hope everything is going well.

Thank you so much for enjoying my blog! It means a lot to me. I hope I can keep creating content you love. ❤️

Arguments with Levi are quite the topic in my main fic, so let’s dive in. One of Levi’s “not so nice” traits as a boyfriend is that he can be incredibly stubborn. (here the link) Arguing with Levi is sometimes like arguing with a wall. In the heat of the moment, his ego convinces him he’s right, even when he’s not. I don’t think he’d apologize immediately; it might take him a day or two to cool down.

When an issue arises, Levi is straightforward and upfront about what’s bothering him. He won't sugarcoat his feelings. This is a blessing because you’ll know he’s not holding a grudge, but also a curse because he’ll bluntly say, “I hate when you do this or that,” with a stern expression. Honesty and loyalty are paramount to Levi, so he wouldn’t appreciate his partner pretending everything is fine and then snapping later. He’d likely be upset and say, “If it bothered you so much back then, why didn’t you say anything?”

With a hand on my heart, I believe none of us are our true selves in an argument. Levi can get pretty defensive and emotional. Vulnerability is tough for him, and during arguments, he shuts down completely. If he’s wrong, it might take him a few days to apologize with a simple, “I’m sorry, I was being difficult.” Once they’ve both calmed down, they can talk things out. If his partner was wrong and they apologize, it would depend on the severity of the issue and what was said during the argument. Levi understands that everyone makes mistakes, and he would forgive, but he doesn’t tolerate repeated offenses. Levi gives second chances, not thirds.

Regarding tears during arguments, if Levi is very angry and the issue is serious, he won’t like it. He might feel like, “So I’m the one in the wrong just because I can’t cry myself out of this?” He knows she isn’t crying on purpose, but his defensive side might react that way. If the argument isn’t serious and she cries, Levi would soften quickly, saying, “Hey, come on... it’s not worth crying over this.” If she storms out, Levi would likely just roll his eyes and say, “We’ll talk when you calm down.” He’s not one to chase after someone. If she needs time, she’ll get it. Levi is too straightforward to play games; if someone says “leave me alone,” he’ll respect that.

Sorry this was so long! Hope it was good enough. Thank you for visiting my blog! Have a lovely day!

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pokeshippingweek · 2 months ago

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POKESHIPPING WEEK 2024!

It's that time again, pokeshippers!

Last year, we announced that the format of Pokeshipping Week - one theme per day - was getting retired. We also said that we'd still put on a celebration of some kind going forward. Well, the time is here, and I'm happy to announce that we are planning a pokeshipping zine...next year!

If you'll forgive the bait-and-switch there, we have seriously talked about doing a zine, but time got away from us this summer. So, while we do hope to tackle that undertaking in 2025, for this year, we're planning what you might call an open Pokeshipping Week!

How does it work, you ask? Simple: over the years, you all have submitted a lot of potential themes for Pokeshipping Week. For every seven that got chosen each year, plenty were left behind. Well, now you can fill November 1 to 7 with art, fics, AMVs, GIFs, graphics, etc., all about our favorite Poke-couple, using any seven you'd like from the unused themes list.

Any and all contributions are welcome, and if they're tagged #pokeshipping week 2024, we'll reblog them here and on the main @pokeshipping blog. Besides Tumblr, we’ll keep our eyes out for the tag on Twitter and DeviantART for artwork, for fanfics on FF.Net and AO3, and for AMVs on YouTube (no NSFW, please).

The full list of unused themes (from years 2020 through 2023) is below the "Read More" break. Use, combine, and create as your heart desires, and we'll see you November 1!

A bad fight A day in the life A never-ending road A ship full of shippers Alola sunset scene Amusement park Anime characters meet their game/manga counterparts Anniversary Art classes together/Drawing each other Ash and Misty in Sinnoh Ash’s hat Avatar: The Last Airbender AU Birthdays Breakup Cameran Palace ball (as in Movie 8) Celebrating Celebrities Champions/Masters Cheerleader Misty Childhood sweethearts Chocolate Comfort during a natural disaster Comforting each other Competition Confiding in one another Cooking disaster Costumes Criminal/Detective Crossover Crossover with game/manga-verse D&D Dealing with Team Rocket’s teasing in “A Scare in the Air” Dewpider/Araquanid Different hairstyle Disaster dates Disney AU Double dating Elder years Elders Ash and Misty Evolution Fairy tales/Fantasy AU Fankids Fireworks First day on the job Food Fortune-telling/foresight Game of Thrones AU Giving advice to a younger generation Grey hair Gym leader Ash/beginner Misty Halloween/horror/ghost story Hanahaki disease Handkerchief Happily Ever After/Fairy Tales Hiding Hogwarts AU Horizons Hot tub/Hot springs If Ash heard Misty’s Song If Ash or Misty weren’t from Kanto If Ash started his journey at 16 or older If Ash’s journey had ended after winning the Indigo League (in season 1) If Misty caught Lapras If one came from another region If their parents met If they didn’t meet on Ash’s first day In-universe Pokéshippers Intimacy Japanese-style confessional love letter JRPG AU (ie, Final Fantasy, Dragon Quest, Monster Hunter, etc.) Karaoke Ladybug and Chat Noir Last goodbyes Learning a different language Lost Pikachu Love Letter Love triangle Lovers across the multiverse Lovestruck (if Ash acted like Brock) Meeting the parents/relatives Mewtwo Strikes Back alternate ending Misty and other Pokégirls discuss their loved ones together Misty meets Goh and Chloe Misty overcoming her fear of Bug-types Misty the coordinator Misty’s Bug-type phobia Mixtape/playlist Mystery dungeon Nervous Ash Never have I ever Other Pokemon games AU (Detective Pikachu/Pokemon Masters/etc) Out of their element Overprotective Misty Perspective of Oak Ranch Pokémon on their relationship Photo shoot Pirates Plot twist Pokemon daycare Pokémon Mystery Dungeon AU PokéNav communication/Video calling Possessed/evil Misty Pregnancy/Birth Pro-gamers Puberty Reappearance of Ash’s father and/or Misty’s parents Regency Era Romance Return to Orange Islands Romeo and Juliet Sci-fi AU Scuba diving Secret identity/superhero AU Slow Slumber party Spies AU Stargazing Studio Ghibli AU Sunshine and Rain Superhero AU Swimming lessons Sygna suits Tabletop RPG AU Taller (height differences) Tauros ranchers Ash and Misty Time capsule Training together Umbrella Vacation Visiting Oak’s ranch Water and electricity/water and fire What if Ash didn’t take Misty’s bike? Yoga together Z-ring/Mega Stone

#announcement!#pokeshipping week #pokeshipping week 2024 #pokeshipping #news!

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acewritesfics · 10 months ago

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The Neighbour's Cat | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: from @rainydayteacups

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff overload. Soft Tommy. I guess you could say pre-war Tommy but I didn’t really mention it.

Word Count: 1,564

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST || TAG LIST SIGN-UP

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

“Did you hear that?” Ada asks after a loud thud came from out in the backyard.

“It might be the neighbour's cat,” Y/N replies. The grey tabby is often in her small backyard, making himself comfortable in one of her flowerpots as he slept. She no longer had flowers growing in the one he took a liking too. “He often comes into the yard.”

She goes to pour herself another glass of the wine that Polly had swiped from the Garrison when she sees movement outside the window. Recognising the familiar hair cut she stands up from the table. "I'll be right back. I need to make sure the cat hasn't gotten into anything it shouldn't have."

"But it's dark outside, what could it possibly get into?" Ada whines, lifting her glass to her lips.

"You'd be surprised," Y/N mumbles and makes her way to the back door and slips outside, looking into the darkness of the night for a person sneaking around the back of her home. "Tommy?" she whispers loudly unsure if it was him, she'd seen.

As Tommy moves in front of her, a hand clasped gently over her mouth as he holds a finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet.

"Come with me," he speaks barely above a whisper, the hand covering her mouth moving to take her hand in his and leads her away from the back yard and into the street.

“Tommy, I can’t just leave,” she protests but makes no real effort to break away from him and go back inside. “Where are the others?”

“Back at the Garrison,” he informs her. “And who says we can’t sneak off to spend the night before our wedding together?”

“It’s tradition,” she sighs knowing the women currently in her kitchen will have her head once they realize she’s disappeared.

“Fuck tradition,” he scoffs as he slows his walk now that their getting further from the house. “Since when have we been ones to follow tradition, eh?”

“I guess you have a point,” she smiles.

“We’ll start our own tradition,” he announces, his voice echoing through the empty street as he walks ahead of her lighting his cigarette and turning to face her while walking backwards. “Our future generations will spend the eve of their wedding together instead of apart because we did it first.”

Not realizing he’s about to step off the curb, he stumbles backwards causing Y/N to gasp as scrambles forward to try stop him from falling. He steadies himself before he can topple backwards. “I’m fine, love.”

She shakes her head with a chuckle as his hands reach for her hips and pulls her closer. “So, what do you say?”

“I say, I’m the luckiest woman in all of England, maybe even the whole world,” she smiles. “Let’s make our own traditions.”

He smiles, kissing her, before taking her hand again and leading her further from her home.

Arriving at Charlie’s Yard, Tommy helps her through the gate and towards the stables. Y/N looks around apprehensively, unsure if they should be there. It's been a long time since they snuck into the yard of the man who's like an uncle to the Shelby siblings. Last time they did it, they'd been caught. Charlie had almost fired Tommy from his job as punishment, but Tommy promised never to do it again. Until now.

"Tom, are we allowed to be here?" she questions him, even though she has a feeling she already knows the answer as they walk into the makeshift stable.

"I cleared it with Charlie," he informs her, surprising her a little.

"But Charlie's at the Garrison with the rest of the blokes," she says, realization hitting her. "He was in on this plan of yours."

"He tried to talk me out of it," he tells her.

"But of course, Tommy Shelby gets his way," she teases.

"I convinced you to marry me, didn't I?" he asks, a smug smile on his pouted lips.

"It didn't take much convincing," she smiles.

"We first met here," he reminds her. "You were tending to one of the horses Curly was working with."

"Moonlight," she smiles remembering the day well.

She came to Birmingham two years ago to visit her cousin, Curly, and look for work, having been fired from her last job for no good reason. Curly talked to Charlie about hiring her, claiming he needed a hand with the horses. Charlie hired her after Curly gave him his word about Y/N being a hard worker and almost as good with horses as he was.

She was three days into her job when she crossed paths with Tommy. She was grooming Moonlight, a black stallion with a diamond shaped patch of white on his forehead. Moonlight just so happened to be one of the horses Tommy saved from a man who was about to put the beautiful boy down, because he was sick, and he couldn't afford to get him well again. Curly had nursed him back to health within a few weeks. Y/N had bonded with him so much that Tommy couldn't bring himself to find him a new home, instead keeping him as a gift for the woman he had fallen so quickly in love with.

Those few weeks curly was nursing Moonlight back to health, Tommy spent pursuing Y/N, unable to get her from his mind. It took a month before she gave in to his advances and they've been together ever since. And Moonlight is now in a stable on a farm a friend owns, living his life to the fullest. Y/N is out there almost daily attending to him and taking him for rides. Tommy can't wait for the day when he can move Moonlight into their own stables, on property they owned, with as many horses as his wife wants.

"The first time I saw you, I knew I had to have you in my life," he tells her. "You looked so beautiful, covered in dirt and grime, humming that tune as you ran a brush through Moonlight's mane. He seemed so calm and at peace that I felt it within myself."

"Oh, Tommy," she coos softly, feeling her heart erupt with all the love she has for him. The fluttering feeling like a kaleidoscope of butterflies was inside her chest. She steps towards him, placing her hand on his face as she looks at him lovingly, her thumb stroking his well-defined cheek.

"I've felt it ever since that moment," he says, his voice softer. "You bring peace to my chaotic life. It's one of the many reasons why I love you."

"I love you," is all she's able to say before she pulls him in for passionate kiss, expressing all the love she has for the man who turned her life upside down in the best kind of way.

Y/N startles awake the next morning when a loud noise comes from outside. Placing her hand on Tommy's bare shoulder, she gently shakes him awake, hearing the rattling of gates being opened.

"Tommy, we need to leave," she tells him barely above a whisper.

Groaning, his eyes flutter open and connect with Y/N's eyes. He smiles and reaches behind her head to pull her in for a morning kiss. His other hand travels up her thigh, plays with the hem of his shirt she's wearing before slipping under it to grab her hip to pull her closer.

"Enough of that you two," The sound of Charlie's voice causes them to part. "You best get out of here before they send a search party. Can't be late to your own wedding."

He walks away before they could say anything. Standing up, Y/N quickly dresses into her clothes from the previous day as Tommy takes back his shirt and coat.

"I'll walk you home," he tells her as they leave the stable. They thank Charlie who waves them off with a shake of his head and tells them he'll see them at the ceremony. Hurrying home, Y/N holds onto Tommy's hand tightly, bracing herself for the lecture she's about to encounter.

Standing on her front doorstep, she turns to face Tommy with a small smile on her lips. "I'm about to get my head bitten off by your aunt and our sisters but last night is worth every second of it."

"I agree, my love," he smiles also. "I liked that tradition far better."

"This coming from the man that said a fuck you to traditions," she teases.

"To traditions that aren't ours," he corrects her.

"You better get going before Polly sees you," she chuckles and pulls him in for one more kiss before they become man and wife. "I love you."

"I love you too," he says pulling away from her and stepping back on to the footpath. "Don't be late," he tells her.

"I'll be the one in white just in case you can't find me," she laughs.

"I'll always be able to find you," he smiles and turns around, starting his walk to Arthur's house.

As soon as she opens the door and heads inside, she gulps seeing Polly standing there with her hands on her hips and an angry look on her face. "And where the hell have you been?"

"The neighbor's cat needed to see me," she replies slipping past her to go to the bathroom.

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myownwholewildworld · 3 months ago

Text

wherever you go (a joel miller’s ff) - chapter 8

chapter 7 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 9

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: when death comes knocking, you can only answer the door.

a/n: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek where do i even start 🥺 i’m just gonna say i’m sorry in advance and leave it at that, but if you read between lines you’ll understand. i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! they do keep me motivated. as always, THANK YOU for reading. see you on the other side! x

warnings: 18+, mdni. a LOT of angst and drama incoming. cutesy fluff. established relationship (my babies 😭). no smut in this one, don’t hate me! mentions of alcoholism and drugs as coping mechanisms. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart). clickers steal the show 😖. death everywhere so be warned. swear words. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n. joel’s and reader’s pov.

w/c: ~5k.

tags aka the drama wagon (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

@fancyyoouu @smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille

The patrolling shifts had increased around Chicago River and Interstate 90. The Rioters had allocated more resources to survey the borders of the area their people inhabited. In the following days to your disastrous incursion, clickers’ activity had peaked. They were coming closer, so it was decided to dispatch them as they neared.

You were all tired, but there was no rest for the wicked. They kept on moving eastwards, as if something was calling them. No one had been able to figure out why, but the answer to that question didn’t really matter. You suspected that something happened that night at the hospital ― maybe Sasha and her team did something they shouldn’t have.

You would never know, so you tried to stir your thoughts away from what would remain a mystery.

You rolled on bed, the early morning light shining a ray on your face. You grunted in discomfort. Your whole body ached ― those patrols were physically intense, but also mentally exhausting. After all, the infected had been people. A father, an auntie, a brother-in-law, a loving child… All those stories were lost to the wind, and you just hoped there still were people who remembered them as they had been before succumbing to the fungus.

You pouted ― That wasn’t how you wanted to start your day.

Still sleepy, your hand dabbed the bedsheets on your right, unconsciously looking for him.

Joel wasn’t by your side. You frowned in confusion and sat up on the bed, rubbing your eyes. As you got up and walked towards the en-suite, you heard Joel and Tommy talking on the other side of the door, where the living room was.

It was a heated argument ― an everyday occurrence lately. Since you three arrived at Chicago almost five months ago, the brothers appeared to headbutt very often. It didn’t take you long to realise that Tommy’s attitude had gradually changed over time, the alcohol being the main culprit. The bubbly, kind Tommy you had come to meet was buried somewhere underneath that ethanolic stench.

You missed his jests, his nonchalance, his light-heartedness. Buy you did understand him too ― he needed an escape from reality. You all did, really. It was just sad that was his choice of inflicting himself with absent-mindedness.

“You spent the night in the fucking cell, really?”, you heard Joel whisper angrily.

Tommy replied, but his speech was so slurred you couldn’t make out his answer.

“I don’t fucking care for your excuses anymore, Tommy, you need to get your shit together. I need you sober, for fuck’s sake ― the situation is getting dire here, we’ll need to leave soon. In this state, you can barely walk”, you knew Joel was getting frustrated attempting to reason with the younger Miller.

You contained a fatigued sigh ― Joel had tried his best these past months to help Tommy straighten out his path. But you couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to be helped. You just wished Joel understood that. But you knew he wouldn’t give up on his brother so easily. His only living relative.

You sauntered towards the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. You were in the middle of doing so when you heard Joel enter the room. His reflection appeared in the mirror in front of you and you smiled at him, your mouth full of toothpaste. The corner of his mouth lifted just slightly as he placed a heavy hand on the small of your back, his lips brushing your right temple. You closed your eyes at the soothing touch. You quickly bent over to spit the toothpaste and rinse your mouth.

“He’ll come around”, you said as his hand draped around your waist, yours stroking his forearm instinctively.

Joel humphed. “I hope so”, he muttered, his mouth pressed against your crown. “It’s not safe here anymore, darlin’, I think we should head somewhere else”.

“I hear Canada is lovely this time of the year”, you joked, hoping to lighten the mood. His expression didn’t flinch ― worry distorting his rugged, gorgeous face. “I know, I know… Could we wait a few days at least? Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve”, you blinked at him.

He considered it for a few seconds before giving in. “Alright, we’ll leave on the twenty sixth”.

You clapped your hands together, a smile widening your features. Joel cocked an inquiring brow.

“Well, Joyce is throwing a party on Christmas Day at hers and, uhmm, I kinda told her we were coming?”. His brow furrowed even more. “Pretty please?”, you begged, your fingers laced in a prayer.

You knew Joel didn’t like socialising nor big gatherings, but it was just one teeny tiny ask. You flashed your eyelashes at him.

“Okay, it won’t hurt, I guess”, he conceded reluctantly.

With an excited squeal, you turned around in his embrace, circling his neck with your arms. You stood on your tiptoes as Joel leaned forward to kiss you.

The day went by slowly. You had been assigned to the evening patrol ― your hunting duties put on hold until further notice. With all this clickers’ activity, it wasn’t safe to venture out. To your dislike, Joel had been in the afternoon one, so you kissed him goodbye when you took over. At least Tommy was with you.

You were stationed in the bridge on West Madison Street, the Lyric Opera of Chicago to your right. There was a total of ten people in your group, each one of you covering different positions. When clickers approached, you shot them through the rifle scope. It had become a mindless game, like the one you used to play in the arcade when you were younger ― Wolfenstein 3D.

Hours had gone by, and you had been standing up for so long that your feet hurt. You eyed the red, thick metal railing to your left and, with a little jump, you sat on top ― your legs dangling in front of you, facing southwards and the rifle conveniently placed on your lap. Tommy joined you a few minutes later.

He remained silent and so did you. Although he was somewhat sober, you could smell the alcohol on him. It was bad enough that he drank himself to oblivion in his free time, but it was not great he came to patrol with dulled senses.

You took a deep breath.

“Your brother needs you, y’know?”, you said with resignation. His eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance, but you could see the pain in them. “We’ll be leaving in three days, Tommy, and we both need you. This reckless path of yours could have dreadful consequences, not only for us, but for yourself… We are both here to help you out, but you’re shutting us out ― Joel is worried sick and, to be honest, so am I. And I get it, this world sucks… but you’ve got us. The people you are meeting up with… They aren’t good for you.”

He didn’t say a word for a long minute. It was probably not fair of you to pester him with your not-so-uplifting speech, but he needed to hear it. As much as you liked Tommy, what troubled you the most was that it would destroy Joel if he lost Tommy too. It had taken him a long time to open up, to start living again, and Tommy was undoing all that hard work Joel had put in.

He sighed heavily, turning to look at you.

“Do I? And please don’t get me wrong ― I’m happy for both of you. But you’ve got Joel and Joel’s got you. Again, nothing wrong with that, but it sometimes feels lonely, y’know? That’s what drove me to Laney and her group, they get me. Yeah, sure, the alcohol, the drugs ― it ain’t great, but it helps. But I know I need to get my shit together, believe me, I do, it’s just… hard”, he shrugged.

Your eyes softened, downcast expression. You knew you were just brushing the surface; it wasn’t just that he felt left out. This new world was devastating, it toyed with your mind, making you believe things that were never really there ― a figment of your imagination, of your worst fears.

You palmed his forearm to cheer him up.

“As hard as it is, I’m sure you’ll still come out the other end just fine”, you smiled, but he was evading your eyes. “You only need to reach out, Tommy. We’re here for whatever you need of us.”

You got home past midnight. You were so worn out, you just whispered goodbye to Tommy and headed towards your shared bedroom with Joel. The handle made a screeching noise, then the door creaked when you pushed it. You scrunched your face in frustration ― you didn’t want to wake Joel up if he had fallen asleep. He had trouble in doing so, his nightmares still haunted him.

You quietly closed the door behind you. The room was dark, the silence only broken by his faint snoring. You grinned ― he did snore, as much as it pained him to admit it. Tiptoeing towards your end of the bed, you scattered your clothes on the floor. Only wearing your panties, you sneaked under the bedsheets. There was no heating, but Joel’s body radiated enough warmth to keep you both cozy for the whole night ― so you curled up against his back, nipples grazing his bare skin, your left arm around his waist and your hand gently pressed against his chest. You could feel his ribcage raising with every breath he took.

He lulled you to sleep, your mind slowly drifting away. He really was your safe haven.

You smiled absentmindedly, a snug sentiment weighing in your belly. You kissed him where his shoulder blades met and whispered, “I love you.”

Maybe he dreamt it. He was not sure.

Maybe his unconsciousness made it up. He was not sure.

However it came to be, that “I love you” had been haunting his mind the whole day. His chest felt tight, a longing ache lodged in his core. Joel had not been able to get rid of that feeling ― being honest, he didn’t want it to disappear. As much as it was painful, it was also hopeful.

His heart fluttered with yearning at the memory, only coming back to reality when you elbowed his side. He had not heard what you said, but your features had lit up with your laugh. The biggest muscle in his chest skipped a beat at such beautiful melody.

“I bet you were the taciturn type as a kid, right, Joel?”, Joyce asked him, question marks dancing in her pupils.

“I was a normal, boring kid. Played a bit of baseball and went on a few fishing trips with our old man, but that’s about it. So yeah, I guess taciturn covers it”, he replied, spooning the stew into his mouth.

Tommy huffed taking a sip of the moonshine in his cup, but didn’t say anything.

The three of you ―Joel, Tommy and yourself― were in the canteen in the Art Institute of Chicago. Joyce, her granddaughter Ava, Walter and a few others were sat around the table, everyone sharing funny snippets of their childhood. Tomorrow was Christmas Day, which seemed to have lightened the mood a bit, some people had even sang some Christmas carols.

“What about you, sweet pea?”, Joyce turned her attention to you.

“I was a weird kid”, you admitted with a laugh. “Used to love bugs, and I really mean love bugs. I had a huge terrarium, a beautiful ant’s nest. I used to go out and picked some of them off the anthill in our backyard to bring them to my colony. Not gonna lie, it was fascinating seeing how the ants would work together to build their little glass community”, you shared while devouring Joyce’s stew. “Then one day, quite a few ants bit me as I was trying to relocate them to a different part of the terrarium, and they fucked me up real bad. Got a terrible infection, was in hospital for two weeks. When I came back, the whole colony was dead, my parents didn’t even let me have a look at it. It was heartbreaking. After that, I steered clear of any type of bugs. I cared for them, even named every one of them, and that’s how they paid me in return? Little bastards”, you cackled, shaking your head.

“You were indeed weird, sweetheart”, Joel muttered so low, you thought you were the only one who heard it.

You patted his hand with a chuckle, unconsciously leaning towards him, your shoulders touching. You always gravitated towards Joel, you just couldn’t control it. Your eyes met and you giggled ― his smirk widened.

“Guilty”, you whispered, his hand enveloping yours under the table.

You had forgotten Joyce was sat across you until she cleared her throat.

“So, you two lovebirds are a couple yet, or what?”, her not-so-innocent question caught you completely off guard.

Shit, shit, you thought, almost choking on your food. You had not talked to Joel about what you two really were. You loved him wholeheartedly, but you didn’t need to put a label to your relationship. At least not yet. You didn’t want to pressure him ― you knew Joel would come around when he was ready.

“Uh, well, we…”, you stammered, your heart racing so fast you thought you were going to throw it up in your bowl.

Joel’s hand gripped yours tighter.

“Yeah, we are”, he replied, matter-of-factly.

Your soul literally left your body. You scrutinised his face in awe ― your lips dissevered, sparkly eyes, speechless. A wave of relief washed over you. He did love you; you just knew it in your heart. The immense love you suddenly felt almost throttled you. If your brain was a functioning organ, you would have hugged and reciprocated him ― but your mind was still short-circuiting.

Joel’s hazel eyes held yours prisoner. He wasn’t a man of many words, but he didn’t need to be ― his orbs spoke for him. They were soft, tender, loving. You heard Joyce’s snicker, but your eyes could not leave Joel’s. There were so many things you wanted to say but couldn’t ― your heart was drowning in oxytocin.

“Why do you look so surprised, sweet pea?”, said the older woman, hardly containing a guffaw.

Before you could find any words to answer Joyce, a shrieking cry disrupted the festive atmosphere. People got up a few tables away from you, screaming so loud you couldn’t make out their words.

A few seconds later, another commotion took place but from the other end of the room.

“Infected! They are infected!”, someone shouted.

Panic spread quickly. People started running, cramming around the two exits. Pushing their way out, elbowing anyone in their way with no regards to children or the elderly. Then you saw a young girl in the middle of a circle, people trying to keep their distance from her. You recognised her from the patrols but couldn’t remember her name.

Then she propelled forward, tackling a man to the ground. He screeched loudly, trying to free himself.

“No, get away from me! Aaaarghhh!”, then silence.

You had gotten up. More cries came from the opposite direction, but you didn’t dare to look. Joel’s hand on your shoulder forced you out of your trance, and you turned to look at him.

His expression was a reflection of yours for a fraction of a second. The fear, but then the resolution.

“Move, move, we gotta go. Tommy?!”, his hands were on your back, pushing you to walk in front of him.

The younger Miller went in front of you, gun on hand, to find the way out. Then you remembered the firearm in your belt and swiftly gripped it. You were about to run behind Tommy when you realised. Suddenly stopping in your tracks, you turned around to face Joel. You looked at him intently, then to Joyce and her granddaughter.

You couldn’t leave them behind. Joyce was the best person you had known in a while. She was like family to you. And you had already lost all of your blood relatives. Joel had one look at you and understood you were not going to accept no for an answer.

“Joyce! Ava! C’mon!”, he shouted while approaching them. Joel picked up little Ava in his arms while Joyce ran towards you, thick tears blurring her vision.

You held Joyce’s trembling hand as Tommy guided you out of the building onto South Michigan Avenue. You looked back a few times, ensuring Joel was right behind you. Ava was sobbing loudly, her tiny face against the curve of Joel’s neck, wetting his t-shirt. The fearful look in his eyes told you a sad story ― you knew exactly who he was thinking of. A gut-wrenching feeling sat in the pit of your stomach.

The streets were crammed with people, everyone screaming names at the top of their lungs. You recognised a few faces: Walter, Eric and his mother, Troy, Kelsey…

“They’re coming through the bridge on West Adams Street!”, someone wailed.

All of you looked in that direction and saw a massive herd of clickers galloping towards you.

“RUN!”, you shouted at your group, pulling Joyce’s hand.

You all ran northwards, across Millenium Park. You could feel your lungs burning, your brain entering fight-or-flight mode, your heart racing so fast you were on the verge of having a cardiac arrest. But none of that mattered ― you were focused on getting out of there, all of you. Tommy, Joel, Joyce, Ava, yourself. You were going to make it out.

“Go to William Fahey bridge, it’s closer!”, Tommy yelled once on East Wacker Drive.

More clickers were coming towards you from the west ― you heard someone around you say that all the bridges on North Wacker Drive were packed with infected.

“They’re here! THEY’RE COMING!”, Joyce wept.

The whole moment was so hectic, with no time to process what was happening. You all sprinted to the only bridge in the hands of the government ― you had no other option. You were almost halfway through the bridge, just a few yards more and you would be on the other side.

As you were racing, you heard a gunshot behind you. You came to a sudden stop to check, letting go of Joyce’s hand ― Joel had just dispatched a clicker which had come too close.

“Joel! Come on!”, you begged, getting closer to grab him by his free forearm.

Then you saw them. Waves of clickers coming towards you, people falling to their demises. Your eyes widened, terror pumping through your veins. You shot a few of them, your aim perfect. But there were too many to fight, fleeing was your only real option.

“Don’t stop! Let’s fucking go!”, Tommy howled, waving at you.

Then chaos unfolded. Gunshots swirled around you. You all ducked behind a car to avoid the trajectory of the bullets ― the government soldiers were shooting to whoever attempted to cross the bridge, clickers and humans alike.

“Help!”, a cry to your left made you turned around in a panic.

Joyce was flat on her back, fighting off an infected. You couldn’t think, so you just reacted ― you leaped forwards, tackling the clicker. Knelt on top of it, its disgusting teeth snapped close to your hand. You felt a brief pang on your wrist as you lodged a bullet in its forehead.

With tears darkening your vision, you came off it and crawled to Joyce. Her eyes, devoid of life, stared at the cloudy, dusking sky. Her lifeless expression was filled with terror, tears still running down her cheeks. Blood was surging from her neck ― unconsciously, you covered the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

“No, Joyce, come on, wake up”, you whispered, grief tugging at your lungs.

She could not be gone just like that. But she was. Joyce was dead.

“Up! Lift the bridge!”, a man’s voice was carried by the wind.

Suddenly, the ground underneath you started moving up, the bridge parting exactly where you were. With no time to think, Joyce’s body rolled off the edge into the river as you tried to hold on to something to avoid the same destiny.

That something was Joel’s firm grip on your arm. His eyes wild with dread, he pulled you up and back into his arms. His trembling breath caressed your temple as he hugged you tightly. You knew he was as scared as you were, albeit for different reasons.

But there was no time for the shock to wear off. Off the corner of your eye, you saw little Ava running towards the edge, kneeling on the border, her tiny hand reaching into the abyss underneath. “Nana! Come back, nana!”, her wailing tone gave you goosebumps.

“No!”, you and Joel shouted at the same time, both lunging forward towards her.

And then she was gone too. The rotten hand of a clicker wrapped around her tiny wrist, and she fell off the bridge. Her piercing shriek was still ringing in your ears.

Joel and you remained flat against the asphalt, disheartened and broken.

“I had to let go of her for one second, you were falling, I―”, his voice faltered, his eyes broadened with remorse, transfixed on the exact spot Ava had disappeared from.

He was reliving his worst nightmare again. Your heart bled for him. For Joyce, for Ava. For yourself.

“Joel, don’t―”, you couldn’t finish. Don’t do this to yourself, you wanted to say.

“Get up! MOVE!”, Tommy shouted.

He had fended off the clickers who made it across the bridge before it was lifted. You hadn’t realised his efforts until you swept your surroundings and saw the bodies littered around you. Joel shook his head to clear his mind, casting off all emotions, and got up to his feet, helping you up in the process.

Then the three of you started running towards East Illinois Street while the government soldiers kept the clickers at bay as some of them tried to jump from one side of the bridge to the other ― this time, at least, they were aiming better than they did before.

You were still in living hell, with no chance to digest what had happened yet. It was like walking blindly through the darkness, unable to find the switch to turn on the lights. Your emotions had deserted you, at least for the time being. You needed to find shelter before you could shatter.

You raced for what felt like hours but was only minutes. You turned the corner on Erie Street, near Northwestern Hospital. The streets were filled with soldiers and uniformed police, shouting directions at the unhinged mass of people who were trying to find cover.

You stopped running, feeling like fire was consuming your lungs. Joel and Tommy stopped too to catch a breath. You bent over, hands on your knees, to aid your uncontrolled breathing ― Joel’s hand rubbed your back.

“Laney, wait up”, you heard Tommy say, and supposed that Laney and her group had made it out too.

You frowned when you saw blood dripping from your inner wrist on to your jeans. You turned your hand around to check the wound out.

Your breath didn’t reach your lungs. Teeth marks were imprinted on your skin, a grotesque sight. Your heart came to a halt, and then it pounded so hard your ears rang.

I’ve been bit, you thought, realisation dawning on you. Fuck, I’m bit.

Even though you were internally panicking like you had never before, you straightened your back and looked at Joel blankly. It felt like it wasn’t you who was talking, as if you were seeing yourself from outside your own body.

“Joel, I’ve been bit”. Your voice didn’t feel yours ― calm, ethereal.

He was watching his brother walk away, and then his eyes darted to yours in less than a second. His pupils were dilated, his nostrils flared, his lips pursed. A vein twitched in his jaw, his anxiety peaking to the highest level possible. You saw his hand shaking when he grabbed your wrist to inspect it himself.

Joel didn’t say a word. He didn’t have time to do so. You hadn’t realised that Tommy had stopped walking towards Laney and had drawn his gun as he was retracing his steps back to where you were.

“Joel, move”, the barrel was pointing at you, his hand steady.

Panic set in. Was he really going to shoot you? Just like that? Like your life didn’t matter at all? Like he wasn’t your esteemed friend? In front of Joel? Was this how you were going to die after all?

Questions flooded your mind, death knocking at your door.

Joel positioned his body in between you and Tommy ― one hand reaching back to keep you behind him, the other one in front of him at waist level, palm down, to keep Tommy away.

“Tommy, please―”, he implored in a hush.

You couldn’t see his face, but you knew his features were torn. His defeated tone ate at your conscience.

“She’s been bit, Joel. She ain’t coming with us, she can’t”, as much as Tommy wanted to convey a reassuring tone, he couldn’t.

Why was he talking like you were not there, like if you were already gone?

“Tommy, don’t do this. I lov―”, your heart sank to your stomach.

“Don’t say it, she’s dead”, Tommy cut him off before Joel could finish his appeal. “If you stay, you’re going to die. Come with me please, we’ll go with Laney and her group, we’ll survive this. You will survive this”, he nodded in your direction.

You were “this”. He was telling Joel he would get over you once you were dead. And you wanted him to listen. You were doomed, there was no coming back from this. You had seen people turn ― you had a couple of days tops before you would get lost to the fungus. Some people only lasted hours. If he stayed by your side to see you wither away… it would break him. For good.

“Joel, listen―”, you whispered, wrapping your fingers around his wrist ― a silent plea dying in your lips.

“No, don’t say a word”, he barely looked over his shoulder, unable to face you yet. “Tommy, I can’t. I just can’t”, he said under his breath.

“Choose then. Either you’re coming with me or you’re staying with her. But I won’t stay by your side to see you destroy yourself.”

An anxious knot formed in your throat. Was Tommy really going to make Joel choose between you and him? That was so fucking cruel you couldn’t believe your ears. You gaped, trying to say something, but Joel took a step back which forced you to do the same.

“Tommy, are you fucking serious?”, Joel asked, a shift in his tone from incredulity to betrayal.

“There’s your answer, I guess”, the younger Miller replied angrily.

Tommy simply walked off, not looking back, not even once.

Both Joel and you froze in place for a long minute, trying to wrap your heads around what just happened.

Your eyes drifted back down to the wound. Pus and blood oozed out. Your chest heaved, reality setting in. You were going to die. This was not what you had in mind for Christmas. How could this happen? Why you? Even with your mind racing with trepidation, you didn’t regret killing that clicker. What you lamented was that it had been for naught ― Joyce and Ava were dead.

“Hey, look at me”, Joel’s voice brought you back. His hands cradled your face, his thumbs sweeping away tears you were not aware of. “Look at me”, he repeated.

You looked up at him through damp eyelashes, memorising his face. His beautiful brown eyes were swirling with shock, with pain, with darkness, with guilt, with loss. His jaw was so clenched his lips were just a fine line. You momentarily shut your eyes, nestling your cheek into his hand before kissing his palm and taking a step back.

You could not look at him directly. The pain was too grave, too profound ― so insatiable it was consuming you. “You gotta go, Joel. Tommy is right. I’m… I’m dead. It’s just a matter of days, maybe hours. You can’t stay. You can’t follow me where I’m going.” The words escaped your mouth in shortened bursts, unable to keep a steady tone.

He took a step forward and cupped your chin, forcing your head up. His sad eyes captivated you, pulling you into their orbits, as if you were a tiny meteor dancing around too close to the black hole of his irises.

“Wherever you go, I’ll follow you. Even to the fucking edge of the atlas”, he muttered breathlessly. “I love you, so don’t ask me to leave you behind. I’m staying, till the bitter fucking end”, your heart dropped to your stomach at his confession.

This was not how you had expected things to be. You were supposed to have time with each other, all the time in the fucking world. And that time had just been snatched from you mercilessly.

Life was so fucking unjust.

You couldn’t stop the tears any longer ― they overflowed your waterlines, your vision so smeared you couldn’t see his face anymore. Your head tilted forward, until your face was buried in his chest.

Joel hugged you tightly, feeling like he was starring in a twisted horror movie. A dark void had replaced his heart, which had been completely ripped off his chest. He was barren inside. His breaths were shallow, they didn’t even reach his lungs.

Had he forgotten how to breathe?

“We need to get off the streets”, he managed to mumble, holding your hand and taking you away.

83 notes · View notes

gingernut1314 · 9 months ago

Text

Extra Special

A Songbird Story

Buggy x F!Reader

Summary: Buggy wants to make this Valentine's Day special. Extra special for his extra special songbird.

Warnings: fluff, like the tiniest bit of angst, smut (p in v, biting)

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: Sooo....I got this out a bit later than I wanted (like an hour late) so it's no longer valentines day...but let's all pretend I got this out in time 😂

This is a part of the Songbird series, though not part of the main storyline (if you want to add this extra little story into the main storyline, it could be read between part 8 and part 9). I hope you all enjoy!!! 🩷🩷🩷

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“SHIT!” The screaming voice of Buggy and the sound of shattering glass jolted you from your sleep like some alarm clock you hadn’t asked for. You started up, ripping the blankets off your body as you fought against your sleep-blurred eyes to find your captain in the dim light of his room. Panic at the thought of something having happened to him struck you hard and fast.

“NO!” Buggy shouted at you, a detached hand flying your way and shoving up back down in bed with a bounce.

“Hey! Buggy, what the hell happened--”

“Nothin’! Stay asleep!” Your concern turned to irritation as he continued to hold you down.

“I’m not going to stay asleep you jackass!” You huffed, grabbing for his hand to hold it in a way so you could sit up once more.

The door to Buggy’s chambers lay open, the light illuminating the hall filtering into his room and allowing you to see the predicament Buggy had gotten himself into.

He skillfully held a tray of food in his last remaining hand while his sea-glass eyes looked downward mournfully at the shattered mug and spilled tea on his floor. It was your mug, one you had picked up on the last island the Big Top had landed on.

“I-I’m--I broke your mug.” He said slowly, almost as if he was nervous about how you would react.

“Were you bringing me breakfast in bed?” You asked, completely glazing over the subject of your broken mug. Buggy’s mouth fell open as his eyes glanced towards the tray he still balanced.

“Uh--yeah.” You kissed the bit of exposed wrist of the detached hand still in your grip before letting it fly back to his body, a smile pulling to your lips.

“Then what are you waiting for? Come here.” You said patting the empty space next to you. Buggy looked to the spill, then back to you, and then back to the spill once more. “It’s just a mug, baby. I can get a new one.” Those eyes found you once more, his mouth opening and closing like some fish out of water. You sighed, patting the bed a bit more aggressively.

“We’ll clean up later. My stomach is eating itself I’m so hungry.” Buggy rolled his eyes at you dramatically, closing the door before starting for you.

“Now that’s a bit dramatic, don’t ya think, songbird?” You scoffed at him and his silly little grin which was growing wider and wider the closer he got to you.

“Dramatic? I’m dramatic? I’m not the one who was about to cry over--” A gloved hand came up to cover your face, shoving you not so gently back onto your pillow.

“Scoot over, yeah?” The bed dipped as you swatted Buggy’s hand away from your face, shooting him a daggered glare that he merely winked back at.

“Asshole.” You huffed, sitting back up as Buggy passed over you to his side of the bed.

“Yes, but you like this asshole.” A detached hand came around to bop you on the nose as he flopped down next to you.

“Yeah, yeah.” You huffed, watching as he extended the tray of breakfast foods out to you.

“You’re favorites of course.” Your playful annoyance was quickly replaced with that giddy feeling in your chest you still weren’t used to feeling. A feeling that was warm and pressing dangerously against the seams of your heart at Buggy’s thoughtful kindness. You took the tray, placing it in your lap as you smiled gratefully up at your captain.

“And--” He said, a detached hand flying into the bathroom only to come back out with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. They were in the colors of yellow and white and sat in a red and white striped popcorn container. You realized the flowers were supposed to mimic the food typically within such a container.

You’re mouth hung wide open as Buggy handed you the flowers, his grin turning all too goofy. A smile that was even more stunning than any flower you could ever receive.

“Thank you, baby. What did I do to deserve all this today?” You asked, bringing the flowers to your nose to smell their sweet scent.

Shit--they even smelled like popcorn. How’d he do that?

“Cause today’s Valentine's Day, duh.” You blinked up at him. Blinked once, twice--

“Valentine’s Day? I don’t understand.” Buggy’s eyes all but fell out of their sockets in shock.

“What? You don’t know what Valentine's Day is?” You shook your head and Buggy continued to gap at you. “It’s only one of the biggest holidays they celebrate in the East Blue.” You shrugged at him, leaning over to place the flowers on the nightstand next to you.

“I grew up under a rock, remember? My dad didn’t care about shit like holidays.” You said, looking over the assortment of food on the tray in your lap. You went for the fruit first, popping one in your mouth as Buggy gave a huff of annoyed air.

“The more I learn ‘bout your daddy the more I dislike him.” You shrugged, moving so you could hook your feet over Buggy’s lap, bringing the warmth of his body flush against yours. His hand was quick to find purchase on your thigh, giving it a tight squeeze as you raised a bit of fruit to his lips.

“Tell me about it?” You asked, Buggy taking the fruit from your fingers. The brush of his painted lips made your skin tingle and burn and wish to feel over them.

“Well--ya know. It's just a day you spend with the people you care about.” He said between chews. “Do nice things for ‘em. Treat ‘em extra special.”

You tried to play it off cooly by taking a bite from some of the other foods on the tray, but you were anything but cool. Your heart was beating against your rips in a near-painful manner. That giddy feeling rolling around in your chest so fast it made your heart ache with its wildness.

He cared about you. He was telling with his words that he cared about you.

“Oh? And--I’m getting treated extra special?” You asked, raising a fork full of food for Buggy to take. He did and gave your thigh another squeeze.

“No, I’m gonna treat Cabaji to a good time. I’m gonna go snuggle up in bed with him while I feed him breakfast.” You rolled your eyes at Buggy’s tease, taking another bite of your food.

“But you’re not feeding me breakfast. I’m feeding you.” You said, bringing another fork full of food for him to eat. He took it with an audible chomping sound.

“Hand over the fork then, smartass.” You smirked, keeping the fork far away from him.

“I thought you were supposed to be nice to me today.” Buggy was quick to snatch the fork from your hand, his other hand moving from your thigh to pinch at your side in a way that had you yelping and squirming to get away. The tray of food Buggy had so kindly brought to you almost found its way onto the floor to join your mug had Buggy not sent a detached booted foot to nudge it back into place.

“I am being nice. See how nice I’m being.” He insisted, skewering a piece of fruit onto the fork and choo-choo training it towards you. You mocked irritation once more at his antics but ate the fruit with a chuckle.

“I’ll forgive you if you say sorry.” You said after swallowing. Buggy gave a chuckle of his own as he grabbed your cheeks in a squishing hold, pulling you closer and closer until his lips crashed into yours.

His grip loosened, giving your lips the freedom to move in tandem with his. To taste the spices within your breakfast and the sweetness of the fruit.

Buggy pulled away all too soon and you chased after his lips, needing that little buzz of happiness kissing him gave rise in you.

“I’m sorry.” He said against your lips, which claimed yours once more.

“Humm…I don’t know if I forgive you.” Buggy gave a rumbling growl that shook through your chest, burning at your skin.

“Oh yeah? Do I need to beg for your forgiveness?” You smirked, running your fingers over his exposed arm, feeling over the smooth skin and the course blue hair that lay there.

“Begging is a very good start.” He gave that little whimper you loved oh so much to hear. One that had you grabbing him closer, the tray of food forgotten fully as he grabbed you right back.

And just as Buggy had opened his mouth to start to beg, sweet sounds your body begged itself to hear, a knock sounded at his door. One that had anger spiking in Buggy so sharp and fast he was ripping himself off of you and hurling himself from bed, leaving you a drunk kissed mess.

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU IDIOTS?” Buggy shouted as you fought to calm yourself back down.

As he screeched and howled at whoever had interrupted his alone time, you went about picking up the bits of food that had fallen in your hast to get your captain closer.

You ate the rest of your breakfast as you pulled yourself from bed, yanking on a pair of Buggy’s pj bottoms which lay scattered over the floor as you went about tidying up the red sheets, as well as picking up the mess that was your shattered mug.

As you did this, you caught bits and pieces of Buggy’s conversation with, who after a quick peek through the crack in the door Buggy had left, found Mohji standing there looking very, very stressed.

“There is a tax to dock, captain.”

“Then don’t dock. Go around the island.”

“We-we did sir. There are docks all around the island and the beaches are very populated--guards posted on each.” You threw the mug away as Buggy fumed at these words.

“And the next nearest island?”

“A day’s journey, captain.” Buggy cursed. And cursed and cursed some more.

“Fine! Pay the godsdamned tax.” Mohji left with a quick yes, captain and an apology before his footsteps rushed off. Buggy came back in looking like he was about to pop a blood vessel. It was a look that only deepened when he found you were finishing up cleaning the spilled tea. “What are you--”

“You never pay a tax. We should just go to the next island.” Buggy huffed, slamming the door shut behind him.

“We can’t just “go to the next island” ‘cause today is Valentine's Day. Not tomorrow. And this island has the best beaches for miles.” You blinked at him slowly--beaches. You loved beaches. Loved the sun on your skin and the sand between your toes. It was a fact Buggy knew of you. A love he had learned of during both of your time on the Going Merry.

“Are you--are you taking me to the beach?” You asked calmly, trying to not get your hopes up. Buggy huffed away, trying to settle his raging emotions as he snagged a small, light blue bag from under his vanity.

“Take a look.” He said, pulling a smile to his face that seemed to help him calm down greatly.

Fake it until you make it was the philosophy you believed Buggy went with to get through life. It was a pretty good philosophy--one you might even pick up living by.

You took the bag from Buggy’s hand, pulling the red tissue paper out to find a few pieces of folded, polyester outfits within.

The first you pulled out was a pair of blue, yellow, and red diamond-patterned swim trunks. Trunks that were definitely meant for Buggy who was now genuinely grinning again as he watched you open the gift.

The next thing you pulled out was a matching bikini. It was tasteful, but still cut in a fashion you knew Buggy was eager to see you in. In other words, small but covered the important bits pretty well.

The suits were bright and flashy and so Buggy. You loved it.

“Wha’d ya-” You didn’t let him finish his question before you were attacking him in a hug and in smacking kisses to both his cheeks.

“I love it! Thank you, baby.” Buggy grabbed hold of your hips, finding your lips for a kiss.

“How ‘bout you get ready and I’ll make sure everything’s in order with this shitty tax, hum?” You nodded, kissing him again quickly before rushing off to the bathroom.

The beach was crowded, just as you had heard Mohji tell Buggy, but you and your captain found a space a little ways away from everyone. And, as an added bonus, it was far enough away from the water that Buggy’s nerves were put at ease.

You dug your toes into the sand as you watched Buggy set up camp, pulling beach chairs open and laying a blanket down before your chairs. He placed a picnic basket down on top of it, one he had surprised you with on the way here. Buggy even put up an umbrella, though that was mainly for him.

And he did this all in just his flashy swim trunks.

The sun was no help in the growing heat in your body.

No help as you watched the muscles throughout his arms and legs work. No help as you watched his blue hair, which he had put up in a flowy ponytail, fall over his shoulders, leading the eyes to his chest. A chest covered in a dusting of blue hair that you had run your fingers through many, many times before and wished to do now.

It had you almost wishing to take Buggy by the hand and drag him all the way back to the Big Top just so you could see those muscles work to pull those swim trunks off. So you could see the delicate skin that lay hidden beneath and run your tongue--

“Tah dah!” Buggy exclaimed, a pound smile on his face as he gestured towards the set up.

“Good job, baby.” You praised, swallowing down the sudden dryness in your mouth. Buggy beamed like one of the rays of sunlight shining down on you two under your praise.

“You gonna take that cover off? Let me see how good you look in that bikini?” You nodded, placing your beach bag into one of the chairs before yanking your cover-up--which was just one of Buggy’s old t-shirts--over your head.

Buggy gave a low curse as you showed off your new swimsuit--you moving your body in a way that put it on full display for him.

“You like?” You asked as you watched Buggy’s tongue shoot out to wet his lips.

“Do a little twirl for me.” You did so without question, moving your hips in a sultry rotation that earned you a low groan from your captain. “Shit, songbird--maybe we should call it quits? Head back to the ship.” You smirked as you faced him once more.

“Humm we could…but no. I want to get some sun.” You said, the clown all but whining in displeasure. “You were the one who chose this bikini. You only have yourself to blame.” Buggy dramatically pouted.

“Let me at least put lotion on ya. Don’t want you to burn.” You shrugged dismissively.

“I don’t burn.” Buggy’s hands flexed at your continued denial to let him touch you.

“I do.” You scanned over his body slowly, making the clown all but squirm under your gaze.

“Would you like me to put lotion on you?” He nodded frantically, sending a detached hand for the lotion in your bag. He all but shoved it in your hands before sitting down on the blanket before you.

You knelt down behind him, putting a dollop of lotion on your hand. You moved his hair over his shoulder before beginning to rub the lotion in, your captain humming and leaning back to be closer to your touch.

You took your time rubbing it into his skin, tracing shapes into his skin, and digging your fingers into the tenser bits of muscle you came across. The whole time Buggy was a huming, groaning mess and it was making your body utterly ache to have him hum and groan in other such pleasurable ways.

Once every last bit of skin was covered, you moved around to sit before him, his eyes dazed and struggling to focus. Eyes that scanned over your body, which he began to reach for.

“Uh-ah. No touching.” Buggy huffed, those green-blue eyes snapping to look into your own.

“Why not?”

“Because I only get to touch.” This earned you another, rumbling groan, and those eyes lulling closed. You watched him shift, his trunks seeming to grow just a bit tighter around his crotch. You smirked at his flushed state.

“Let’s go back to the ship.” He asked on a whisper, as if your answer might change. You put another dollop of lotion onto your hand and began to rub it into his shoulder, chest, and abdomen.

“Later, baby. You went through all the trouble to get these swimsuits, make us lunch, and pay that tax.” You said, his sea-glass eyes opening to watch you near mournfully. With a chuckle, you leaned forward and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his painted lips. A kiss he savored and whined when it ended. “Thank you. You’ve made me feel extra special today.”

A small smile pulled to Buggy’s lips, that warm emotion flashing through his eyes. A look you thrived under whenever he graced you with it.

“Of course, songbird. Speakin’ of extra special, I have another gift for ya.” He said, sending both of his chopped hands towards the basket.

“Another one? Buggy, baby, that’s too much--” Buggy shushed you with a quick kiss. He pulled away as his hands reattached to his body, the box he had grabbed thrust into your hands.

“Nothin’s too much for my songbird. Now open it.” He said excitedly. You sighed, your own excitement dancing around in your chest.

You tugged at the box’s flaps, freeing them from the colorful tape holding them closed. A small gasp left you as you pulled one of the gifts out.

It was a notebook. A beautifully elegant notebook that, in looping letters, said Songbird’s Songbook #1.

And there were more notebooks within the box. Books of different colors and designs but had the same title drawn on the cover. Each was labeled with a number as well.

You felt your eyes prick and you fought to keep from making a fool of yourself in front of Buggy.

“I-Buggy…” You said in a small voice, looking back towards the man you cared for so, so much. A man who had changed your life for the better--who had pulled you from such a dark, dark place.

Guilt panged in your chest. A guilt that rose your anxiety and had you tapping your fingers against the hardcover of the songbook.

“I didn’t get you anything. You should have told me you were doing all this. How--this is--baby, I want to get you something too. Something as thoughtful and beautiful as this. I--” Buggy cut you off with a soft, comforting cradle of your face between his ungloved hands.

“Baby, you’re gift enough for me.” You huffed, feeling those tears begin to pool in your eyes. “I don’t need anything but you. Don’t worry. Please don’t worry.” But you couldn’t not worry. Because you were worried every day that you wouldn’t be good enough. That he would find some reason to toss you away--to abandon you.

“Hey--if you really want to give me something, you could sing for me.” You blinked a few times to clear the tears stinging your eyes on a nod. “Ya? Okay--hey, stop that.” He chuckled, running his thumb under your eye to try and comfort you further. “A song and your company would be a perfect gift.” You nodded again, clearing your throat from its tightness.

“What--what would you like me to sing?” You asked, leaning your cheek further into his palm.

“How ‘bout that song you’ve been workin’ on?”

“It’s not finished.” He nodded, his smile pulling wider.

“I know. But it’s still my favorite.” You smiled, that giddy, warm feeling filling your chest like a flash of lightning. With a quick kiss to his lips, you two laid out on the blanket, facing one another as you began to sing your song softly.

Buggy watched you like you were the most interesting thing in the whole world. Watched you with that warm look in his eyes and an easy smile on his lips. His hand found its way to feel over your side, running his fingers up and down your skin.

You sang your song of lonely and restless need. Of freedom and the sea and of a feeling for someone so strong it could drive them mad.

When you finished your unfinished song, which you had added just that much more to since the last time you had sung it to him, Buggy pulled you in for another soft, lingering kiss that had your heart soar like some dove.

You almost grabbed him back into you when he pulled away but thought better of it--there would be plenty of time to hold and caress each other after this little beach trip.

Buggy went about presenting you with lunch then in a flashy manner. The lunch was simple but perfectly catered for a beach day.

After lunch, you two sat in your beach chairs. You soaking up the sun and Buggy sitting in the shade of his umbrella, hand in hand.

Once you had had your fill of sun and sand and the sound of crashing waves, you helped Buggy pack everything up before heading for the Big Top.

The ship was as quiet as the grave, the rest of the crew out enjoying the beautiful day and exploring the island you had paid to stay on.

“I don’t get mad,” Buggy started, pulling you towards the circus tent that stood proudly close to the bow of the ship. “But I might have one more gift for ya.” You smiled and squeezed his hand a little tighter.

“Then I owe you one more song.” Buggy squeezed your hand right back with a nod.

“I would love that, songbird.” He led you to the entrance, placing all of your beach gear on the deck before turning you around and covering your eyes with his hands. “No peaking.” He whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You held onto his hands as he led you into the circus tent, your steps a little stiff from your momentary blindness. Buggy positioned you and turned you just a little bit this way and that before you felt his breath on your ear again.

“Okay…ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Buggy chuckled before removing his hands from your eyes.

You gasped at the sight before you. A wonderful scene, one with a candlelit dinner table, a meal still steaming and ready to eat. You gathered it must have just been laid out, meaning one of your crewmates was making a mad dash for the exit.

Flowers covered the surrounding area, filling the space with their forally sweet smells. Music played softly in the background as well. Songs from your favorite artists and inspiration since childhood.

But on top of the dinner and the candles and the music, sitting in the middle of the circus ring was a shining, sleek piano. Another one of those songbooks lay on the music stand, a single rose pressed between its pages.

“I’ll have it moved to one of the backrooms so you can have a little more privacy to practice and create your music. I know you’ve been needing a piano so--” You snapped around and attacked Buggy in a tearful kiss before he could finish.

Your captain was quick to wrap you up in his arms, pulling you flush against his warm body. Your lips moved in perfect synchrony. In a sweet, tearful kiss that gradually grew more needy. More wanting and fiery.

You pulled away, littering kisses over his cheeks and jaw and neck, your hands sliding their way downward. Fingers pulled at his bright swim trunks and you were just about to follow your hands downward when Buggy stopped your descent. You whined but it was silenced by his burning kiss.

“Nah-uh. Want to make you feel good.”

“But--” A voice stealing kiss found you again, Buggy’s body moving you backward until you ran into the piano he had just gifted you.

His feeling hands found the strings to your bikini and loosened the top so that the triangle-shaped fabric fell away from your breasts, hanging loosely around your waist. Those stunning eyes of his darkened in lust at the sight of you, his tongue coming out to wet his lips in something akin to hunger.

Your fingers were gripping the back of his neck and guiding him towards your pebbled nipples, Buggy readily following your lead. His teeth grazed over the sensitive heft of your left breast, making a low moan pour from your chest. A low thing that turned mewling when his lips encased your nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue over its peek.

You held him closer, your body giving out onto the keys of the piano, making the instrument give a screeching ring that echoed throughout the circus tent.

Buggy’s strong arms grabbed you around your thighs and shoved you up onto those keys, abusing the poor, elegant instrument once more with your weight.

You would have been worried about breaking such a beautiful gift had a pleasure-filled fog not begun to roll through your mind, blocking out any sense or reason.

He removed his mouth with a pop from your breast only to latch it around your untouched and lonely left breast. Your fingers scraped over the back of his neck, pulling low moans of his own from his throat, the vibrations of it buzzing at your body and adding to the growing wetness between your legs.

Buggy’s hands grabbed for the bottom of your bikini, yanking them off with help from his chop-chop abilities to fully do so without pulling away from you.

He switched breasts again, biting lightly at your flesh and making you squirm in his hold at the flashes of pleasure that pulsed through you.

You spread your legs further, giving Buggy full access to your weeping pussy. It wanted his touch--needed it and you were beginning to grow desperate.

A chopped hand crawled its way down your stomach, finding its home on top of the mound of your pelvis.

“I should make you beg for it, ya know.” He murmured around your breast, flicking his tongue over your nipple and pulling a needy little whine from you. “For teasing me at the beach.”

“Y-your fault. You--” You sucked in a shuttering breath as he dipped a finger into your dripping folds. A finger that rounded your cilt but never once dared to touch it, sending you just enough pleasure but never enough to scratch the deep itch that had been building within your body all day. “You bought the damn bathing suit.”

Buggy chuckled, pulling away from your nipple to lick a wet trail up the valley of your breasts, sinking his teeth into your neck. A pinch of pain that only melded and mixed with that dulled buzz he had lifting in you.

“I wanted to match. So fuckin’ sexy.” And his finger finally moved to land on your clit, rubbing circles into it and sending your body radiating in ecstasy.

“Oh--oh gods--yes--thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You rambled into his hair, holding his face that much closer to your neck, which he continued to bite and suck a deep bruise into. “I-I love this fucking suit--oh my gods!”

Your hips began to move on their own accord, rocking against his finger and his cock, which had tented his trunks in his own arousal.

More, more, more.

You need more of him. All of him.

With these foggy thoughts in mind, you reached your hand down to tug his suit as low as you could. It was an action that only exposed more of that happy blue trail which led to your real goal, still hidden breath those bright trunks.

“C-Captain--Captian, please, please, please! I-I need you in me please!” You begged, continuing to pull at the band of his trunks to spur him on.

“F-Fuck--yeah, baby. Anythin’ ya need.” He grit out pulling away just enough to shove his swimsuit down, letting his cock spring free from its restraint. He hissed at the sudden exposure to the chiller air, his tip already leaking milky pearls of precome.

You grabbed for him, running your thumb over his slit and spreading it around the mushroomed head of him. Your mouth fell open on a needy pant as he thrust mindlessly into her hand, bringing his cock that much closer to your sobbing pussy.

Digging the heels of your feet into that perk little ass of his, you dragged him closer and closer until he was pressed oh so nicely against your entrance.

It took only took one thrust and your guiding hand to have him sinking inch by glorious inch into your aching pussy. Your walls flexed and relaxed around him, sucking him deeper and deeper into you.

“Oh fuck.” Buggy cursed in your ear as he bottomed out, his last unchopped hand coming up to grab a fistful of your breast. You nibbled at that pierced ear, humming your growing satisfaction for him.

“M-move, baby. S-so good for me.” You breathed, raking your fingernails up and down his back, sending shivers through your captain’s body.

“Yes--fuck, yes, songbird.” He said on a whimper, his hips pulling him all the way out all the way to his reddened tip, only to sharply thrust back into you. You gave a deep moan of his name, hanging onto him for deep life.

Each thrust sent low humming through your body. Humming that grew louder and louder and louder until it was all you could hear.

Each bite and suck at your neck spread sparks along your skin like the start of some wildfire.

Each circle and flick of your cilt ignited and deepened that built within the depths of your abdomen.

Buggy chuckled against your skin, his thrusts never once faltering in their steady, pleasure-pulling pace.

“Wh-what?” You panted, grabbing hold of his chin to look into those sea-glass eyes. Eyes a swirl of blown-out lust and mirth.

“J-just--heh--this wasn’t what I had in mind when I said--m-makin’ music.” He huffingly laughed, a rather brutal thrust pulling a deep moan from your chest. A thrust that pushed your body harder into the keys beneath you, the piano letting out a horrid sound at the sudden movement.

“I-It’ll be inspiration.” You wavered, moving his lips against yours in a sloppy dance of tongues and spit.

That deep build rolled around within you. Rolled and spurred your hips to move that much faster against Buggy’s. The added pressure of his pelvic bone slamming against his finger, which pushed against your clit that much harder had that white buzz spread through your thighs, into your hips, and then to rush wildly down through your core.

Buggy pulled from your kiss, free hand shooting up to hold your neck in a loose hold so that he could watch your brows furrow and mouth hang open in a gasping call of his name as you came. Your walls fluttered and clenched around his cock, pulling your name and nicknames alike from Buggy’s panted lips.

He pushed fully into you, nose brushing against yours as hot ribbons of come shot into your constricting pussy in spurts.

Buggy whimpered, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His body fell slump against yours, only held up by your legs around his waist and your arms around his waist. You held him tight, pressing your forehead into the side of his head, breathing in his scent with each heaving pull of air into your lungs.

“I think--I think we broke the piano.” You panted with a chuckle, kissing his shoulder. Buggy groaned, his body finding strength enough to hold you back just as tight.

“Whatever--I’ll steal you another one. I’ll steal so many pianos you won’t know what to do with them all.” You kissed his shoulder once more, a large, goofy grin pulling to your lips. One that, just like that warm feeling in your chest, you couldn’t help.

“Thank you. Today was very extra special.”

Original Requester for main Songbird series: @srgtjamesbarnes

Tag List: @lostfirefly , @fanaticsnail , @empressofmankind , @synoname-wordsmith , @cefni , @solarrexplosion , @luvrsbian , @misadventures0fdes , @fanshavegottensotoxic , @wasabiprophet , @ane5e , @friedtacokitty

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togrowoldinv · 2 years ago

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Thin Line

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

It’s a life or death situation, and there’s a thin line between love and hate

Warnings: Briefly mentioned explosion, wound, cursing, fluff at the end hehe

Note: It’s an enemies to lovers type of beat👀 Still some soft Nat at the end because of course there is. Follow my library blog @togrowoldinvlibrary for fic updates! Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

By all definitions of the word, Natasha Romanoff is not your friend. In fact, she couldn’t be further from that.

When you first met the redhead, you tried to be cordial with her. She shook your hand and you smiled at her. But she didn’t seem to care to get to know you better.

During every mission, she was standoffish towards you but it never got in the way of things. You just decided that maybe she wasn’t the type to make friends. This is work, after all, not a place to socialize.

So now, as you face a serious threat, you can’t believe that you are trapped in a room with her. You’re tapping your foot on the floor when Natasha breaks the almost twenty minutes of silence between the two of you.

“Can you stop that?” She asks, but it feels more like an order.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’m just trying to think.”

“There’s no way out,” she says. “I would’ve gotten us out by now if I could.”

You look around the room and make the same decision you both made before. There’s no way out.

“Cool. I’m going to die in here with a woman who hates me,” you say as you stand up.

Natasha’s eyes follow you across the room. She shakes her head.

“Do you think that I hate you?”

You look to her and try to read her expression. It’s perfectly neutral.

“Yeah, pretty much,” you say with a sigh.

She doesn’t respond, and you’re about to break the silence again when suddenly she’s on her feet.

“What-“ you begin, but she brings a finger to her lips signaling you to be quiet.

You stop talking and start listening. Outside the wall, you hear voices. They’re speaking a language you don’t know, but you can tell that Nat does. The voices fade and Nat turns to you.

“Okay, I know you don’t like me or you think I don’t like you or whatever, but you have to trust me here,” she explains.

“Natasha I-“

“No. Listen, we have one minute before this place blows up so you don’t have time to hash this out with me. Okay?”

“Okay.” You try not to let her words make you panic.

You work together to make a sort of makeshift wall out of random crates in the room. Natasha seems to know how best to organize them and you don’t question her survival skills.

“Fifteen seconds,” she says. She pushes you down to take cover before she reminds you, “You have to trust me.”

Natasha takes one more glance around before she joins you on the ground, but what surprises you is how she shields you with her body.

“Nat, what are you doing?” You lift your head and ask her.

“Protecting you,” comes the simple reply. She pushes your head back down and covers you once again.

It’s mere seconds later the explosion makes the walls and ceiling crumble around you. Your ears ring and you’re both covered in debris, but otherwise you think you’re unscathed.

That is until Natasha rolls off of you and you notice the shard of glass in her side.

“Ouch,” Nat says as the shard stings her. She pulls it out and you watch incredulously.

“Ouch? That’s it?,” you ask as you watch blood pour from her wound. You unzip your suit and rip off part of your shirt to apply pressure to the wound.

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Natasha asks.

“I don’t know! Fuck or something?” You say and she laughs. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, but she has a smirk on her face. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

You try to hide a smile as you do your best makeshift work on patching up her wound.

“We have to get out of here,” you say. You finally glance around and realize that you can get out now.

“We’ll go a couple miles south and call the team,” Nat says. She looks a little pale but you try not to worry.

Offering her your hand, you help her to her feet. She starts walking with great triumph, but soon her loss is blood starts getting to her.

“Woah, hey Nat, let’s stop for a second,” you say as you catch her after she stumbles over her feet. That’s nothing you’ve ever seen before from someone as trained as her.

“Yeah, okay.” She grips onto your arm tightly and you know she is going to pass out.

You lower her to the ground carefully, sitting on your own knees, and hold the back of her head.

“You’re going to be alright,” you tell her.

“I don’t hate you,” she says as her eyes start to close. “I was just scared I would fall in love with you.”

Her words make your heart drop to your stomach. You never imagined she would feel that way about you.

“Natasha,” is the only word you get out before her eyes completely shut.

You take a few deep breaths and try not to panic. In training, Agent Hill taught you want to do in circumstances like this.

Natasha has a light pulse, but she’s breathing. Taking out her phone, you still see no service. You have no choice but to try and move to another area.

You don’t have super strength but you will enough to pick Natasha up. She’s bridal style in your arms. And you start running.

You run as fast as you can for as long as you can. And then a miracle happens, Nat’s phone dings with a message.

You halt and lay Nat down again. Her head rests on your thigh as you dial for help. The tone rings and rings and finally someone picks up.

“Nat?” Tony’s voice asks.

“It’s not, Nat. It’s y/n. I need help!” You say.

“Where are you?”

“Natasha is- she’s hurt. She’s really hurt and I have no idea where we are! I think she did but she’s passed out and-“

“Y/n, hey take a breath,” Wanda’s voice joins the conversation.

“We’re tracking your location now,” Tony says calmly. “Everyone suit up. Okay, y/n, you stay where you’re at. We’ll be there as soon as we can, okay?”

“Okay,” you say. “Please hurry.”

The line disconnects. Natasha is still passed out. You pull her closer and hold her against your chest. It’s more for your comfort, you realize. Nat may not be your friend, but you have always felt safe with her.

And what she said about loving you plays over and over again in your mind as you wait for help.

She starts to come around what must be hours later. And she panics, there’s fear in her eyes. She’s moving out of your arms before you can react, but she cries when she lands on her wound.

“Natasha, hey it’s just me,” you say. “Help is on the way. You gotta try and stay calm, Nat.”

Your words don’t do much to help, and you resort to touching her face softly. She flinches but doesn’t move away from your embrace.

“I’ve got you, Natasha. I’m right here,” you say. She nods ever so slightly. “We’ll be home soon.”

“Okay,” she whispers. “Home.”

You don’t know how much longer it takes for the team to arrive, but the flight back to the compound feels like forever.

Wanda held your hand as you sat across from a very zoned out Natasha. They did some quick first aid, but she needs a full checkup to make sure she’s okay.

She’s in with the doctors now as you wait impatiently by the door.

“You alright?” Wanda asks as she waits with you. Her hand comes to your shaking knee.

“Yeah,” you say. You run your hand over your face.

“What happened out there?”

“She told me that she was worried she was going to fall in love with me,” you admit. You turn to see Wanda smiling next to you. “Don’t smile. It’s not a good thing.”

“Yes it is!” Wanda says. You stand up and pace in front of her. “You two so have feelings for each other.”

“I do not!” You reply. “She’s just- she’s- well I guess yeah she’s kind of perfect and I feel safe with her and all I want is for her to be happy, but that doesn’t mean I’m in love with her.”

“Y/n,” Wanda starts. She walks to you and holds your shoulders. “Just don’t be afraid to let yourself love her, okay? She’s great. Really great. And behind that tough exterior is a very soft heart.”

You nod and really take in her words. The doctor arrives soon and says Natasha needs to stay the night, but is stable. You’re allowed to go in and see her.

You take a few deep breaths and open the door. She’s laying in the bed looking a little worse for wear, but still so beautiful.

“Hey Nat,” you say.

“Hey y/n.”

“How do you feel?” You ask as you step further into the room.

“I’m alright,” Nat says. “Thanks to you.”

“Thanks to me?”

“Yeah. You took care of me out there and got us help. That’s nothing to discount,” she explains.

“I was just doing my job,” you remark.

“Yeah,” she says with a smirk. “Listen, what I said when I was passing out-“

“Oh. We don’t have to talk about it,” you interrupt.

“No. No, I want to,” she says. You move closer and sit on the bed next to her legs. “It’s the truth. I pushed you away because I knew I could love you.”

Her words are once again difficult to process. You can’t fathom her feeling this way for you.

“Natasha, I don’t understand. I’m just- well I’m me.”

“Yeah. You are you,” Nat says with a smile. “You’re you who likes to listen to pump up music before training every day. And who won’t admit to it but you cry at every heartfelt commercial on tv.”

“I have no comment,” you joke. A smile of your own rests on your face now.

“And you’re the person who carried me for miles to get us home safe,” Nat says.

“Was it miles?" She nods. “I was just so worried about you. I ran as far as I could.”

“It was miles.”

“Well, I’d do it again. I’m just glad you’re okay,” you say. “You had me worried, Romanoff.”

Natasha reaches for your hand and pulls you closer.

“Can I kiss you?” She asks. It feels like a dream.

“Yes.”

She kisses your lips and the gentleness of it shocks you.

“You see I don’t hate you,” she says after the brief kiss.

“I think I need more proof.”

You go in for a longer kiss this time and Nat happily obliges.

“Thank you for protecting me out there too,” you say. She raises a brow. “When you covered me before the explosion.”

“Ah that. It’s no problem. Instincts and all that. I didn’t want to see you hurt,” she explains.

“Are you sure it’s not because you love me?” You tease her. A smile creeps onto her face.

“I know, I know. Last second love confessions are something to tease me about. But if you must know, yeah I did it because I love you.”

“I love you too, Natasha,” you reply.

She brings you in for another kiss before the team is knocking on the door.

They flood into the room and welcome you both back from the mission. Wanda notices the way Natasha’s hand rests in yours.

She smiles at you and you grin back.

Over the course of the mission, Natasha not only became your friend but she also became your heart.

She became your love.

And you can’t imagine your life without her.

#natasha romanoff x reader #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff

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and-claudia · 1 year ago

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Against All Odds pt. 7 (Joel Miller x fem! reader)

SHE LIVES!!!!!! Hey guys sorry it's been awhile!! This semester is crazy!! I got a little time off and was finally able to work on some writing!! I am still getting back into the swing of it so I am so sorry if this isn't my best quality!!

Warnings: more angst, allusions to SA

General Warnings for later on: The main story will have an age gap between Joel and the reader (Reader will be 25 once we get to the main storyline), this will also be your warning that it will eventually be an x pregnant reader (if that's not your jam, I'm sorry) there is also going to be more graphic/trigger parts later on so please always to be sure to read the warnings BEFORE reading. This story will also be 18+ and TO BE ON THE TAGLIST YOU CAN NOT BE AN AGELESS BLOG (i do actually check that) also there first hand full of parts are all prologue so Joel won't actually be in it for a bit

word count: 4000+ (shorter again, I know but I wanted to do the whole ambush part and the suburbs part together in one part, so the next one should be longer, but it may not be out until closer to Christmas once the semester is over)

Taglist Sign-Up (read my rules carefully before filling it out)

gif not mine

After we had all gotten a chance to clean up, Joel decided to go out and see if he could get the truck started. Meanwhile, I went around the kitchen seeing if there was anything salvageable to bring with us.

“Truck’s ready.” Joel said as he walked in.

“Good, I found a few cans of food in here. I figured I could check the garage too before we left.”

He nodded before turning around and walking back out. I turned to Ellie who was throwing her bag back on.

“You ready?” I asked.

“Yup. I’ll help you look in the garage when we get out there.” She said as we headed for the door.

“Thanks.”

We got to the truck and tossed our bags in before taking one last good look around. There wasn’t much out here in all honesty. I was ready to just get in the truck and leave when Ellie called me over.

“Hey, I found some more cans over here!” She hollered causing Joel and I to walk over.

“What‘cha got?” I asked.

“I found a few things, they were all under that crusty shirt.” She said pointing to it.

When I saw it, my eyes almost bulged out of my head. I knew where that shirt came from, and it belonged to the man standing beside me who had a similar expression on his face.

“Ellie, go wash your hands, we’ll get the cans.” I said and she gave me a weird look, “Just go do it.”

She shrugged and did as I said.

“Huh, never really expected to see that again.” Joel said tossing the shirt aside.

“Yeah, me neither… Do you think Bill or Frank ever found it?” I asked.

He only shrugged and started grabbing the cans to put in the truck. So much for a conversation.

When Ellie got back, we loaded up the truck with everything we were taking. Joel got into the driver's seat, and Ellie got in behind him. Out of instinct, I went to get in the backseat with Ellie. I had never actually ridden up front ever. I was still in a car seat when the outbreak happened and then anytime I rode in a vehicle after that, I was always in the back.

“What are you doing?” Joel asked.

“What?”

“Get up front.” He nodded to the vacant seat beside him.

I shut the door and went to get in the front seat, “This is weird.” I commented but to tell the truth, I was kinda excited to ride up front.

“Both of you buckle up.” Joel said, as he started the truck.

“What?” Ellie asked.

“This thing.” I showed her mine that I had pulled down.

She glanced around herself before Joel turned around in his seat and reached back to help her out. I couldn’t help but smile to myself, it was really such a dad thing to do, but I tried not to dwell on it too much knowing it would only make me sad. Subconsciously, my hand went to my stomach.

“Is it safe?” I asked as he pulled out of the garage.

“Hm?”

“Riding in the front when you’re pregnant, is it safe?” I clarified.

“You think I would tell you to if it wasn't?” He asked as we began to drive away from the house.

I shrugged and reached up to open the glove compartment. I found a cassette tape in it. It was too faded to read what was written on the side. I shrugged and opened it anyway.

“What are you doing?” Joel asked.

“Road tunes.” I said as I put it in.

An old song started playing that I vaguely recognized. I reached up to change it to see what else was on it, but Joel stopped me.

“No leave it, leave it. This is good. This is Linda Ronstadt. Do you know who that is?”

“I don’t.” Ellie said from the backseat.

“I’ve heard of her… I think my mom used to listen to her… This song sounds a little familiar.” I said.

We pulled up to the gate and Joel stopped. He took a deep breath before pressing the button to open it. The sun was low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow across Joel’s face. I rested my head against the window as we drove. As the song got to the chorus I heard the familiar words “And I think I'm gonna love you, For a long long time” I couldn’t help but think of Joel… and as I sat there, eyes closed, I allowed myself to pretend, even for just a moment that everything was normal… that Joel and I were together, the outbreak never happened, maybe even we were the same age, going home to tell my parents about the baby, his daughter-no our daughters- sitting in the backseat. It felt so right. It felt like a dream… too good to be true.

Progress was slow. Once every hour or so, we were having to stop to siphon gas out of abandoned cars. During one of our stops, I was looking at the map trying to help refine our route. I traced my pinky over a route that would take us longer but would ultimately be safer.

“Why don’t we follow that one? 84?” Ellie asked pointing to a different interstate.

“Because 84 goes to Hartford, the QZ there is in shambles. We’re trying to avoid it, but not take forever… so I’m thinking… stay here on 90, avoid Connecticut all altogether… only issue is, it does take us further North… so it’s going to take us even longer…” I said, scanning the map for any alternatives.

“Well, we’re already taking forever, stopping every hour.” Ellie said with a sigh as she sat back in her seat.

“I know, but we have to.” I said with a similar sigh just as Joel opened the door.

“We have to what?” He asked, starting the truck again.

“Stop every hour for gas.” I said.

“But why? I thought cars were supposed to be useful. This just seems like a major inconvenience.”

“They were. 20 years ago. But gas breaks down over time… the stuff I’m siphoning out of these cars is practically just water now. So to keep the truck going, gotta make stops. But it beats walking there.”

“I think found us a route to take. It takes us North a bit, but it’ll avoid Conetticet completely. I think it’s worth it if it means we avoid Hartford.”

“Let me see.”

I showed him and to my surprise, he agreed it was the best option.

“We got maybe two hours left of daylight… I wanna get past Springfield at least.” He said.

I nodded and soon we were on the road again. We had already cycled through the tape and were now riding in an awkward silence. I glanced behind me at Ellie to see what she was doing and found her reading a book.

“Whatcha reading?”

She held it up to show me, “‘No Pun Intended: Volume Too’ by Will Livingston,” She said with a smile, “Get it? Volume Too.”

“Jesus.” I heard Joel sigh under his breath, hearing our conversation.

“Is there some good stuff in there?” I asked.

She nodded and then scanned the page she was on to find a worthy joke, “Oh here, it doesn’t matter how hard you push the envelope, it’ll still be stationary.”

I smiled, it was cheesy but good.

“What did the mermaid wear to her math class?... An Alge Bra!” She said, laughing a little at it.

I laughed some too and glanced over at Joel, he was shaking his head slightly, clearly not amused by the jokes.

“I stayed up all night wondering where the sun had gone-” Ellie began another joke.

I knew this one and decided to push Joel’s buttons, just a little.

“But then it dawned on me!” I said with Ellie.

“No way, you know that one?” Ellie said.

Joel looked over at me still not amused, “You can ride in the back.” He said.

“You’re such a stick in the mud, you know that?” I said to him.

Thankfully Ellie got the hint that that was enough jokes for now and closed her book in favor of looking at what we were driving past. Both sides of the roads were covered in cars that had been forced off the road.

“Must have been some truck.” Ellie said.

“Yeah, they used to stick big-ass plows on them, and clear the roads for their tanks and such.” Joel said, not even glancing away from the road in font of him.

“I wanna see a tank!” Ellie said.

“I don’t.” I commented, talks usually didn’t mean good news.

“You will. Tanks, choppers, all that stuff. But they’ll fight the wrong enemies. Just scattered around now.” He said, clearly bringing a heavier tone to our conversation than Ellie was wanting because she quickly changed the topic.

“Oh yeah, I found this…” She said leaning forward and holding a new cassette tape in her hand, “This make you feel all nostalgic?”

Joel glanced at it, “This is actually before my time.”

“Great, even older, old music.” She said, sitting back.

“It’s a winner though.” Joel said, putting it in.

“Found something else too.” Ellie said, pulling out a magazine from under the seat.

She opened it and scanned the pages, “It’s light on the reading but it has some interesting pictures.”

At that Joel and I both looked back to see what she had found.

“No, no, no. Put that back.” Joel said immediately, meanwhile, I was just trying not to laugh.

During the whole exchange, I was just trying not to laugh, but then I was sent over the edge when I heard Ellie say, “Why are all these pages stuck together?”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore, I started laughing so hard it was difficult to breathe. What made it even better was Joel trying to come up with a response. He stumbled over his words and couldn’t get an answer to form.

“I’m just fuckin’ with ya.” Ellie said, before scooting over to the window and tossing it out.

I was in tears by this point.

“Dude, chill, you’re gonna piss yourself.” Ellie said.

“I’m trying not to.” I said, whipping the tears from my eyes.

After that, the drive died down. Every so often we would comment on what we saw. We passed some wild buffalo that had roamed more and more since the outbreak. We passed an old amusement park. You could see the old rollercoasters still standing tall. I had always wanted to ride one, but never got to. Joel told us about a few that he had been on when he and his brother went to Six Flags Fiesta Texas, a couple of my brothers had been there before too, I was just too little to go with them. Later on we saw the tanks that Joel promised. And just like the hundreds of cars we had passed, they were left abandoned on the side of the road.

I was grateful when Joel announced that we had done enough driving for the day and pulled the truck off the main road, across a field, and into the tree line to keep us hidden. I got out and stretched. Sitting all day had made my knees stiff.

“I’m gonna make us some food.” Joel said and I nodded.

“I’m going to go find a place to pee.” I said, walking the other way.

When I got back I could smell the food and it made my stomach rumble.

“What is that?” I asked, walking over to stand by Joel.

“20-year-old Chef Boyardee ravioli.” He said.

“Could’ve left out the ‘20-year-old’ part.” I said, taking a seat.

“You can raid what we have, it’s slim pickings though, but I guess if the smell or something is already making you feel sick.” He said.

“Oh, no, I feel fine. It smells really good actually.” I said, happy that I didn’t feel like I was going to puke anytime soon.

“Good. Here.” He said scooping some out and handing it to me, “Ellie, come eat.” He called the young girl over.

Ellie took her portion and sat down with it then immediately dug in.

“Slow down some.” Joel said.

“This is good stuff, what is it?” She asked between bites.

“Chef Boyardee.”

“That guy was good.” She said, shoving another bite into her mouth.

“I actually agree.”

“Me too.” I nodded, taking a bite of my own.

“So… how long we staying out here?” Ellie asked.

“I figured I sleep tonight and drive tomorrow, all day, all night, get us to Wyoming by next mornin’.” Joel said.

It wasn’t a bad plan, I just didn’t know if he’d be able to stay up that long without dosing off. Ellie must have thought the same thing.

“Why doesn’t Yn take a shift driving? I feel like that’s a lot of driving for just one person.” She said.

“I don’t know how to… well, I know the logistics of it, but I’ve never actually done it before. And don’t think right now is the time for driving lessons.” I said.

She nodded before firing off another question, “Can we start a fire? I’m freezing.”

I already knew the answer but Joel beat me to it, “Now why am I going to tell you no?”

“Because infected will see the smoke.” She said with a sigh.

“Fungus ain’t that smart.” He shot back.

“We’re too remote now for infected.” I chimed in.

“Okay, so people?” She asked and we nodded, “So what are they gonna do? Rob us?”

“Oh, they’ll have way more in mind than that.” Joel said.

Ellie nodded, understanding what he meant. A young girl, a woman in her 20s, and an older man wouldn’t be much of a fight against raiders, and if a big enough group got to us and overwhelmed us, they could easily have their way with any of us. It was a scary thought, but it was just the reality of what could happen.

Conversation died off after that and we finished our meal in quietness. Then after that, we got ready to settle down for the night. We each grabbed a sleeping bag and brought them over to the lantern to set up.

“Actually smells pretty good.” Ellie commented as she laid her’s out.

“That would be Frank’s then.” Joel said.

“That would mean you have Bill’s.” I said, popping the tag off of mine. I had found an unused one in one of Bill’s supply stashes.

I hesitated as I thought about where to lay mine out. Yes Joel and I had a few moments today where we seemed like our old selves before we knew about the baby, but I wasn’t 100% sure where we were overall and I didn’t want to test my luck. So, I opted not to lay mine right next to his. We all got settled in and Ellie turned off the light.

I was just about asleep when I heard Ellie call out for Joel.

“Joel? Can I ask you a serious question?” She said.

I was worried that something was wrong.

“Yeah.”

She took a deep breath and sighed, “Why did the scarecrow get an award?” She asked.

There was a few beats of silence before Joel spoke up, “Because he was outstanding in his field.”

I could see him fighting a smile.

“You dick!” Ellie said with a laugh, “Did you read this?”

“No.” Joel said, suppressing a laugh as he rolled over to but his back to us, “Now go to sleep. Both of you.”

It was quiet for a few moments before Ellie spoke once again, “Those people you said… there’s no way anyone knows we’re here, right? No one’s going to find us.”

“No one’s gonna find us.” Joel confirmed.

“Okay.” Ellie said quietly.

I fell sleep soon after that but was woken up only a few hours later. It was still dark out. I rolled over and saw Joel’s sleeping bag was empty. I glanced around and found him standing watch. I quietly got up and walked over to him, making sure not to startle him.

“You should be asleep.” He said.

“So should you.” I commented.

He was silent for a moment, “I couldn’t… just paranoid, I guess.”

I nodded. In the short time she’s been with us, I could tell the effect it had on Joel. I knew about Sarah. And I could tell that having Ellie around was bringing that all back to him.

“Hey, we’ll be okay. Alright?” I said gently as I hugged onto his arm and laid my head on his shoulder.

I could feel the way he relaxed some and let a sigh. After a few minutes of standing there with him a yawn escaped my lips.

“You should go back to bed. I’m gonna stay up. Just in case. We’ll stop again tomorrow night and just get to Wyoming the next day.” He said.

“Okay.” I let go of his arm only for him to catch me by the wrist gently.

“I love you, you know that right?” He asked.

I nodded, “I love you too, Joel.” I said quietly.

And I meant it. Despite the shit show we’ve been through the past few days, I did still love him. I knew we would figure this all out eventually. It would take time, but we’d get there, together. I went back to my sleeping bag and slid back into it. When I woke back up the next morning, Joel was already heating up coffee on the camping stove. Ellie was just waking up as well. About 30 minutes later, we were loaded back up and on the road again.

Joel had poured the coffee into thermos to drink on the road. In the past, I would’ve happily shared it with him. But now the smell was revolting almost. Ellie seemed to agree.

“Is that seriously what the Starbucks in the QZ used to sell?” She asked, clearly disgusted.

“Well, theirs was a lot fresher than what Bill saved up, but yeah, this what they sold.” Joel said.

“Smells like burnt shit.” Ellie said.

“Yeah, it’s gross.”

“You love coffee.” Joel said.

I shook my head, “Not anymore.”

“Alright, eyes on the map, where am I heading?”

“Keep headin' south until we hit 78, that will get us to 76, then from there we’ll get to 70 west which we will stay on for pretty much ever.” I said.

Joel nodded.

“Where in Wyoming did you say your brother was?” Ellie asked.

“Last contact came through a radio tower close to Cody.” Joel said.

I scanned the map to find it and once I did I held it up to show her.

“Wow that is deep in there… And what if he’s not there?” She asked.

“Then odds are he’ll be near a settlement, probably close to another city out there. Ain’t too many of ‘em in Wyoming.”

She nodded and I thought, more so hoped, that would be the end of her questions. I knew this was a touchy subject for Joel and I really didn’t want to upset him.

“What’s his name?” She asked.

“Who’s name?”

“Your brother.”

“Tommy.” He said.

“Younger or older?” She fired off another question at him.

“Younger.” “Why isn’t he with you?”

I watched Joel for his reaction to this question.

“Long story.”

“Is it longer than 25 hours? ‘Cause I think that’s what we got.” She asked.

I could tell Joel was considering his options of telling her or not. To my surprise, he began telling her about how he was a “joiner.” He told her that he enlisted in the Army right out of high school. Then after the outbreak, Tommy was the one who convinced Joel to join a group that was heading to Boston. He told her how Tommy met Marleen and how she convinced him to join the Fireflies. But last he heard he had quit that too and he was alone and that is why Joel was heading out there, to go get him.

“If you don’t think there’s hope in the world, why bother going on?” Ellie asked.

Joel glanced over at me for the briefest second before answering, “You haven’t seen the world, so you don’t know.”

“You keep going for family. That’s about it.” He added.

“I’m not family.” Ellie pointed out.

“No, you’re cargo. And I made a promise to Tess. And she was like family.”

I could tell the conversion was making him shut down.

“What if you don’t find him?” Ellie asked.

It was a legitimate question. One that I was too scared to ever dare ask.

“I will.” Joel said firmly.

“How do you know?”

“I’m persistent.”

That shut the conversation right down.

“Hey Ellie, we got up pretty early. You can take a nap back there if you want.” I said.

“I’m not even tired.” She said.

But sure enough after about 30 min of silence, she was out.

“Are you okay?” I asked Joel.

He sighed, “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

He only nodded.

I decided to drop it, he had already shut down, and there was no point in making it worse. Instead, I opted to also get some rest. Later that day, Joel had changed his mind and continued driving through the night.

I could never fall asleep very long. I ended up dosing off and on throughout the night. When I woke up again, the sun had risen and we were approaching a city. Ahead of us was an overpass tunnel and from the looks of it, it was blocked.

“Where are we?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

��Kansas City. Wait here.” Joel said, turning off the truck and going to get out but I stopped him.

“Joel, we are way too close to the city for you to go out there alone.” I said, worried about Infected or even other people attacking him.

“I’ll be fine.” He said and got out, then he grabbed the rifle from the back seat.

I watched anxiously as he got closer to the tunnel. There could be anything in there. After a couple minutes of looking, he began making his way back. I didn’t take my eyes off him until he was back in the car.

“Now what?” I asked.

He grabbed the map to look for an alternate route.

“Screw it.” He said tossing me the map.

“What’s the plan?” I asked.

“We go back a ways, get off the highway, come back down, take the next ramp. Puts us back on the road, 5 minutes tops.” He said.

I sat quietly as he drove but I began to grow wary as we got deeper and deeper into the city.

“Where the fuck is the highway?” He asked.

“I’m trying Joel!” I said looking between the map and the signs we were passing. They were all so faded it was nearly impossible to figure out where we were and him yelling at me wasn’t helping.

“Quit looking at the state map!”

“Joel, I am trying my fucking best! Quit yelling at me, I’m already freaked out as it is being this far into the goddamn city!” I shot back.

“Well we wouldn’t be if you could just give me directions!”

“I thought you had a fucking plan? 5 minutes tops, remember?!” I shot back.

Suddenly Ellie yelled from the back seat, “Stop!”

We did and turned to see what was wrong.

“Is that the QZ? Where the fuck is FEDRA?” She asked.

Sure enough to our left was the entrance to the QZ with its gates wide open.

“We need to get the fuck out of here.” I said.

“Hey! Please help!” We all turned to the front to see an injured man stumbling towards us.

“Both of you seatbelts, now.” Joel said, putting his own on too.

“Aren’t we gonna help him?” Ellie asked, clearly confused.

“No.” Joel and I both said.

Joel turned the car to try and get away from him. I was scanning the area for anyone else, knowing it was a trap.

“Joel!” Was all I was able to yell as I saw a guy throw a cinder block from a fire escape.

It hit our windshield and shattered it. Joel kept driving. We ran over something and I could feel the car drop as it popped the tires. Then another man stepped out in front of us and began shooting. Joel swerved the truck to the left. I only caught a glimpse of the glass window before we went straight through it. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the impact I knew was coming.

taglist: (if you filled out a form and aren't on this list that means either a) your blog is not coming up in the searches so I am unable to confirm that you are 18+, or b) you did not follow my rules for being tagged in this fic)

@sexyvixen7

@joelmillerslays

@elliaze

@little-lovely-darling

@swimmjacket

@watercolorskyy

@mserynlarsen

@sebby-staan

@beelanie

@fan-g0rl

@paige96

@pedropascalfanclub

@ameliadraws

@mavs101

@azerty29

@rileyferg

@belliedellie

@rhaenyrasgf

@imcreepininyourheartbabe

@nani-kenobi

@lunas-sstuff

@holb32

@reidsgubbler

@cleocat246

@novamidoriya

@katmae1997

@dizzywinterdaydream

@mrswidowjohansson

@abzidabzy

@givemeth

@morgaussy

@summerchicken

@kelh27

@ayamenimthiriel

@letmehavemyfictionalmen

@everything-isfucked

@emilyjustemily

@drewharrisonwriter

@littlwitchgoblin

@angel4astraea

@vodkawriter

@taz-97

@angel4astraea

@kodzuvk

@kittenlittle24

@nooneyouknow55

@hehehehannahthings

@keileighr

@shotgun-shelby

@joeldjarin

@catsareawesomek

#joel miller x reader fluff #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us

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steddiemicrofic · 1 year ago

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⚡️ Welcome! ⚡️

{november prompt: ‘guard’ | 532 words}

view previous prompts/collections here

what is this?

steddiemicrofic is a new monthly drabble challenge started in July. Each month will have a one-word prompt and a randomly-generated word count challenge between 300-600 words.

For example, a prompt might look like: ‘breakfast,’ 522 words.

how do I play?

We’ll announce the new prompt on the first of the month, and then you’ll have until the end of the month to fill the prompt. Your story should be a third person standalone fic with Steve and Eddie as the primary characters (or topic of discussion if doing outsider POV.) If you want us to share your story, you can tag us @steddiemicrofic and use that month’s hashtag.

Please note: word counts are strict. That’s the whole fun of the challenge, so please don’t tag us if your drabble turns into a 2k story.

We’ll use wordcounter.net to check the final word count before reblogging. (Note: your word processor might tally words differently, so be sure to run your draft through wordcounter.net specifically before posting.) WC limits only apply to the body of the story, so titles, descriptions, etc. won’t count against you.

sequel policy, updated 5.7.24

we are officially saying no sequels for microfic challenge submissions. what this means:

going forward, we won’t reblog sequel posts, whether they’re posted in the same month or across multiple months. if your story has “part 2,3, etc” in the title, or links to a previous installment, or mentions that you need prior context to understand the story, we will not reblog it

you may still fill each month’s prompt within a consistent au universe, but again, each submission must work as a standalone story (so don’t link previous installments in your submission post)

as always, feel free to do whatever you want with these prompts on your own blog! write parts 1-20 if you feel inspired, just please don’t tag us beyond part 1

is there a prize for playing?

No, but you can have a head pat and this cool rock I found outside.

are there any other rules?

Please be sure to rate your drabble using AO3 rating system [G=general, T=teen, M=mature, or E=explicit) and warn for any triggers/squicks at the top of the post so we can tag for those when we reblog. You can format your posts something like:

Title

written for ‘prompt’ wc: # | rated: __ | cw: __

can I suggest prompts?

Absolutely! Can’t guarantee we’ll get to all of them, but feel free to send prompts to the inbox and we can maybe run some bonus rounds in addition to the main monthly prompt.

can I participate anonymously?

You sure can, bestie.* To submit anonymously, please DM the mods first (so we can get in touch with you if we need you to update WC/tags or if we have any questions), then you can submit your fic as an anonymous ask to our blog. Anon asks still need to include a header with the title, rating, and content warnings, and WCs will be checked before publishing.

*For now. Not that we expect it to happen, but if for some reason our inbox gets flooded with anon hate/spam then we’ll have to update this rule.

who do I talk to if I have questions?

Send us an ask here or you can message Wynn at @wynnyfryd or Mickala @steddieas-shegoes

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddie writers #steddie prompt #steve harrington #eddie munson

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familyvideostevie · 7 months ago

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hey.

okay. hello! i'm back. :)

maybe you noticed, maybe not, but i have been away for a while.

i wish i could say i've been out living my life, so caught up in happiness and joy and loving each day that i've just not had time for tumblr. but....that is not true. i have been having a tough time! being away has been good, as i've had time to do other things that i like and to put energy into my own well-being, but it hasn't been the best time, I'll tell you that.

i peeked on the dash every now and then to keep my queue full and reblogged soothing things to my main blog and tried my best not to feel guilty about it all (i was also booping on April 1 lol). i just...I really needed a break. i've really enjoyed being here the last six or so months as i've changed my blog and entered the pedro/tlou space but i've also felt so, so alone.

and i know that it doesn't really matter!! like, we should all take breaks and go outside and all that stuff. and I know plenty of people are not very active, but this blog has been such a vital part of my life and happiness since I started it almost two years ago, so any lapse in activity feels like a loss. I've met lifelong friends and flexed my writing muscles and learned a hell of a lot. the fact that I have started to feel isolated and alone on here is a sort of personal betrayal, and there is no one to blame but myself.

So, I’m pulling back.

it means a few things — i don’t know how much writing I’ll be doing from now on. For Joel, especially — it’s been wonderful to meet folks in that community but it has also been really detrimental to my passion for both the game and writing. I’d like to return to some other characters on my masterlist, but we’ll see. I’ve got endless personal projects away from tumblr that I want to pour love and time into (my non-reader fics, my newsletter, a romance novel, a sci-fi novel, poetry, etc). I need to fall in love with my own work again.

it's a me problem, I want to stress that. i'm working on it! irl stuff has been kicking my ass. I've had a really, really hard winter and my mental health has suffered probably more than ever before. i let things I love -- like this blog -- fester and become negative and no longer being me joy. writing became stressful and difficult and I was focused on notes and interaction and looking around me and seeing success and then looking at myself and only seeing lack.

but that's why I took a break! i am getting help and support irl, i am putting in the time and effort to feel better about being alive and to be a better friend and person all around. And I want to tell you all about it because I am so grateful for your time and attention and support, even if we’re just strangers on the internet. i know this probably seems silly -- who cares about a fanfic blog? well, i care! i care a lot! it matters to me and therefore it matters!

anyway. on to the important stuff. here I am! and here's what's going to happen on this blog:

I am working on replying to asks and reblogs and comments I missed. Thank you for being patient with me! I don't know if I'll get to them all but know I see them and I am honored every single time.

I made a totally separate ao3 account with this blog url. I'm working on uploading everything I've posted here onto there and hopefully will continue to crosspost. It is going to take a long, long time, so please be patient! (you can follow my other ao3 here for my non x-reader fanfic).

I posted this fic! Jackson!Joel pulled me back into his world. It’s the first thing I’ve written in ages, so let me know what you think. as of now it's the last planned fic for that series, but who knows!

I hit a milestone while i was away that I am absolutely blown away by. I'm planning a celebration around it sometime this spring (hopefully) and I’d love to see you participate :)

lastly, thank you so much to my friends for letting me complain, whine, winge, etc. I am so sorry for missing all of your work, your celebrations, your bright energies, and all the rest. i am so sorry if it seemed like i was ignoring you. you are my guiding lights, my silver linings, my touchstones. you make me want to be here. i will try to make it up to you!

I want to be online less but make sure I’m connecting more in the moments that i am here. I want to pressure myself to write less and not feel bad that I’m not engaged all the time. I want this blog to once again feel like a place that nourishes me and not sucks me dry. i want to stop feeling like shit about all of it!!!!

so. come hang out in my inbox, my dms, let me know what you've been up to. I am really sorry for missing so much. thank you for sticking around. <3

#personal #this is very long but please read it maybe?#emma rambles #I will reblog it a few times probably

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vampirefest · 10 months ago

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Hello, dear companions in the darkness! We hope you had very happy holidays and a rocking New Year!

We're back with another event for the month of love. The tagline for this event is "I Lay Down With the Devil", and it's all about celebrating our favourite toxic vampire romances.

The celebration will commence on February 1st and run until Valentine's Day on February 14th. This event is open to all creations for the AMC show, the movies and the Vampire Chronicles. You can find the rules, guidelines and other extra info below the cut.

We're looking forward to all your lovely creations! ♥︎

Rules and guidelines

The event will start on February 1st, and we have 14 prompts in total, one for each day. But feel free to use more than one per creation and to mix and match to your heart's desire.

As usual, this is a low-pressure event. If you participate for one day, amazing! If you manage to do all 14 of them, also amazing! We want this event to be a fun creative experience, so let that be your only goal.

Any kind of creation is welcome. Options include, but are not limited to: fanfiction, fanart, fanvids, edits, podfics etc. Whatever you feel inspired to create, we’re happy to have it.

All versions of the characters are welcome, just be sure to specify which in your tags if you think it's relevant.

We are firm believers of “don't like don't read”, so be sure to curate your experience if there are some prompts, pairings or types of content that make you uncomfortable.

Cross-posting with other events is welcome, just make sure you’re satisfying the requirements for this event.

You can share your work on any platform you like. If you make a post here on Tumblr or Twitter, tag us and we'll reblog you. And if you post your work on AO3, don't forget to add it to our Bloody Valentine Collection.

Be sure to tag with #bloodyvalentine or tag this blog @vampirefest so that we can easily find your post.

Please also include:

Which Day/Prompt you have filled.

Any relevant warnings or ratings, tags or trigger warnings (we want to take care of our little community, so please tag appropriately).

You may also include the relationship you’re writing if that is applicable but keep in mind we will reblog with the exact tag you use so ensure your ship name is correct.

Example of how reblogs will be tagged:

#BloodyValentine #[Day] #[prompt being filled] #[type of content; fanart, fanfic etc.] #[trigger warnings that we get from your post] tw #[ship name or pairing]

AO3 collection:

The Bloody Valentine AO3 collection will be open starting on February 1st: You can find the collection here.

We’ll keep the collection open even after February 14th for people who still want to add their works.

Instructions on how to add your works to the AO3 collection:

To add your fics to the collection, simply go to [Edit Work] on AO3 and type in BloodyValentine in the [Post to Collections / Challenges] box that is located below [Summary] and [Notes] and it should pop up in the suggestion.

You can also head to the collection main page linked above and hit the [post to collection] button.

If you have any questions, please hop into our ask box. Suggestions and comments are also welcome.

#bloodyvalentine #interview with the vampire #iwtv #amc iwtv #the vampire chronicles #lestat de lioncourt #loustat #lesmand #fandom event #tvc #iwtv amc #amc iwtc #the vampire lestat #anne rice #vc #fanart #fanfiction

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erisweekofficial · 1 year ago

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Eris Week 2024: Rules, Prompts, and FAQ

Welcome to the official Eris Week Blog!

This post is intended to serve as a master post for the entire event. It will include the dates, prompts, rules, and a FAQ! Make sure to click the read more to get ALL the information!

Prompts and Master Lists

2024 Prompts

Event Master Lists

2023 Eris Week Master List 2024 Eris Week Master List

🔥🔥🔥

Rules

Eris Week supports all mediums of creativity (art, fics, mood boards, playlists, incorrect quotes, headcanons, drabbles, theories, etc)

You can ship Eris with anyone and everyone. This blog is ship-neutral and will support all works. Eris x OCs and Eris x Reader are welcome too!

There is no restriction on content. You're welcome to post NSFW or dark content as long as you tag appropriately. If you see someone not tagging their work correctly, reach out to us. There are a lot of new folks who are still learning the ins and outs of tumblr and likely are making an honest mistake!

Be as wild as you like! Every day has a prompt, but they are purely optional!

We do not tolerate hate. Do not disparage other participants, add hurtful comments to their work, or ship bash. We are here to support one another and celebrate one of our favorite characters! If you are not a fan of Eris, you are welcome to block this blog! Your peace of mind is important as is that of our creators. Failing to follow this rule will result in an instant ban and the removal of all content from master lists. Please note: this includes bashing ships that are non-Eris related. Ex. If an Eris fic has background Casriel, we don't bash it.

We will not reblog or interact with any AI art.

We will have a Collection (ErisWeek2024) on AO3! Do some double duty and post your masterpiece there too!

If you run into trouble, please reach out to the blog and one of the mods will reach out to you for support.

🔥🔥🔥

FAQ

How do I participate in Eris Week?

During Eris Week, please post your content on tumblr. Tag this blog in the main body of your post (@erisweekofficial) and tag your post with #erisweek2024. If you are posting on AO3, make sure to add your work to the Eris Week AO3 Collection and post your link here on tumblr. If we don’t reblog your post within 24 hours, feel free to send us a message with the link! We would never intentionally not reblog someone’s post.

What content is eligible?

In order for something to qualify for Eris week it needs to: A. Be posted for the first time DURING Eris week B. Be a new creation, a new chapter featuring heavily centering around Eris, or a significant rewrite of a previously posted creation. If you're unsure if your piece qualifies, please reach out to the blog and the mods will help you! ❤️

How can I see all the works posted during Eris Week?

During Eris week, we will compile a list of all works created for that day and post the following morning, Eastern Time. So, Day 1 we will reblog all Day 1 content. Then we’ll start off Day 2 by posting the Day 1 master list and then start reblogging all Day 2 content. This is so we can try to account for multiple time zones. If we miss your post or the link is wrong etc, please reach out and we will fix ASAP. At the end of the event we will have THE MASTER LIST to rule them all that will contain links to each day’s master list.

If I’m not a creator, how can I support Eris Week?

Leading up to the event, reblog our posts and/ or let your favorite creators know this event is happening! Visibility is incredibly helpful! Reblog and comment on Eris Vanserra works leading up to and during the event! Supporting work now will encourage creators for the event week itself! During Eris Week, be sure to leave a nice comment on AO3 works as well!

I want to participate, but I am nervous! Do you have any advice?

Character event Weeks are an excellent way to practice your craft, take risks, and explore art in a low stakes environment. Here are some words of wisdom that have helped folks in the past: When in doubt, start small! Write a drabble, write some bullet points, make a sketch. All of this is 100% accepted and supported during Eris week. Don’t feel like you have to do something for every day! Pick one or two days that really resonate with you and make content for those days! Don’t compare yourself with others! It’s hard, especially when well known folks are also participating. But remember, everyone is happy to get any content, especially Eris fans. We’re hungry for anything folks will give us! And one day, you may be that well-known creator ;) Don’t aim for perfection! Post something with typos, get a canon detail wrong! People will ignore it and love what you’ve made anyways. I am sure that somewhere in these guidelines, there is a typo! Embrace the chaos! If you’re looking for some reassurance, share your work with a friend ahead of time. Get their feedback! Sometimes a little encouragement can go a long way. Both of the Eris Week organizers are creators and are more than happy to chat with you about ideas, offer advice, or simply cheer you on.

I have a question that isn’t here!

Feel free to send us asks, we’d love to hear from you all! You can send questions, head canons, ideas, or anything else! If you have a question you’d like us to answer privately, be sure to let us know in the ask. Otherwise, all other asks will be published on our blog.

#eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #autumn court #eris acotar #acotar #high lord eris #erisweek2024

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taranida · 1 month ago

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It's not a lake, it's A. Wake

In the introduction post I’ve made when I’ve just created this blog, I put a few points, that I consider pretty telling of what kind of theories one might see here. One of them was “Alan is the ocean;” meaning, of course, that Alan is the Dark Place. And it has nothing to do with metaphors or tortured madness of his mind.

Alan is the ocean because Alan was connected to the Dark Place long before the whole Bright Falls ordeal happened. Sadly, it’s very hard to tell if the Dark Place existed at all before Alan or if it was retroactively written into reality; I would assume that it did exist at least as a primordial ocean: we have Ahti as a testament to the Dark Place being (a part of?) a primordial ocean and Door as a testament that it is the In-Between. Both of those entities stand out even in the Dark Place, not bothered by its shenanigans, and seem to be pretty comfortable — chilling on the streets of the Writer’s city or dancing with the mop. If anything, both of them showed that they are more disturbed by their time in our world. Ahti has a breakdown in Valhalla, and Door even left his loved ones in a questionable manner to get out. Yet, there are some hints that the Dark Place might’ve been at least shaped to what it is now by Alan. We’ll get to it.

So, how does Alan fit into the narrative of being the primordial ocean, the Dark Place, the In-Between and the Master of Many Worlds, if he (doesn’t even remember his own birthday) wasn’t born before the late 70’s? Door was a man grown in the 80’s; Ahti was kicking in the 60’s, as we learn from the Control’s Foundation; Cauldron Lake gave a headache to the natives centuries ago — all predate even Alan’s birth, let alone his ability to make a coherent story. Well, let’s explore this.

The main question here is: what is time for the Dark Place. I would say it’s just a suggestion; the Dark Place may or may not recognise this concept as something meaningful, but surely refuses to follow it as a rule. We see confirmations all over: in the first game we are shown the clock, that runs backwards, changing the events of the past and hiding the ultimate loop from us, in AWAN we have Mr. Scratch, who sends Alan back in time per the rules of the story; in the second game… what is there that doesn’t defy time, really? “Everything happens all at once and never” is as true as “tomorrow will never happen,” because the time is an idea, most likely, introduced by Alan himself not to go crazier than he already does, hence the wordplay and semantics are important.

But let’s look at what was for sure rewritten retroactively and shown us without the need to piece together hints and come to this conclusion (I am looking at Tom Zane right now and might lightly go into “who wrote whom” this time). We for sure know that the ultimate loop of the first game happens behind the screen: Alan sits to write with the last page in the typewriter, and the last page is this:

Not much text can be seen here, but there is a full version of it:

It’s a bit hard to read (hashtag FreecamForRemastered), so here’s the text:

In the cabin, two stuffed ravens stare at Wake and Alice from atop a bookshelf. Wake is surprised to find his typewriter sitting on the desk. Alice has planned the whole thing behind Wake’s back to get Wake here. Wake feels angry and betrayed. Everyone keeps pushing him to do something he is not ready to do. Wake and Alice argue about it. Suddenly, the lights in the cabin start to flicker. Unseen by Wake and Alice, Barbara Jagger stands in the shadows of the cabin. As soon as it began, the flickering stops and Jagger is gone. Alice is startled by the flickering lights. Wake is too angry to stay. He needs to cool off, to clear his head. Wake storms out of the cabin. He is certain that Alice will not follow him into the dark. When Wake gets to the car, he hears Alice. She is screaming in terror, calling his name. There is a splash of water and then silence. Alarmed, Wake picks up a flashlight from the car and rushes back to the lake. Wake is surprised to see that the cabin is dark, the lights are out. He looks for Alice. Wake scans the dark water with his lamp. He sees her form underwater, sinking into the darkness. He draws a shuddering breath and dives into the black water. Wake wakes up gasping from a nightmare. He is in the car. The car has crashed against a tree. It’s night. He is bleeding from his forehead. He has hit his head. He staggers out. He calls out Alice’s name. There is no reply.

And it already has differences from what we learn in the playthrough of the game: Alan never got to the car; Alan had a flashlight on his person; the screams were heard all the way to the cabin; Alan got into the cabin, not scanned the lake; the car didn’t crash against the tree. All those little details, they are all wrong for us. Most importantly, this manuscript is written in third person and present tense, when all of the manuscripts we can find in the first game are in first person and past tense (if the POV character is Alan, of course). It’s not a Departure we play, it’s the Departure that Alan wrote to allow Alice to escape.

This page flash is followed by the clock going backwards and the time adjusting itself to the moment when Alice is surging up from the lake. She also tells us in the second game that her stay in the Dark Place was a bit different:

“I remembered being trapped inside that lake, a dark ocean with echoes of myself, my fears, my photos. Inside a dark tide of madness. The same events and images, looping again and again. And then I saw a light. Your light. You dove in just as I swam out.”

…than in the manuscript that Alan wrote in his penultimate loop in the first game:

We can assume, he rewrote it to keep Alice’s sanity intact. She did, after all, have a nyctophobia, and just being trapped with a malevolent darkness around — for her — will be worse than looping with photos and events, even if he couldn’t completely protect her from fears and dark madness, he had to stay true to the concept of the Dark Place.

But, again, this might be reality retroactively rewritten or the memories rewritten; the clock and the cutscene of Alice being dragged into the lake are enough to know for sure: Alan can and does rewrite the past.

Alan can toy with time by writing loops into reality less subtly. In AWAN his whole winning strategy was to exhaust Mr. Scratch with loops and prevent him from killing Alan by rewinding time (might not be the first time; surely not the last). The whole plot of AWAN is the proof that time is a weapon and an effective one: loops are not designed to run in circles or start fresh every time, they can be consciously used and abused by Alan to reach his goals. He can rewind, he can start fresh, he can start from the particular point in time, keeping the allies’ memories intact, he can even pull radio-shows from other nights just to hear how his loved ones do. He can also mess everything up, and the reality together with the Dark Place will put things into place. In the “Emma Sloan” manuscript, we have the date:

In the “Lost in the Dark Place” manuscript, the time spent in the Dark Place:

On the radio, Alice agrees with the two years:

“It’s been two years. I— this sounds awful, but yes, I believe he’s dead. Otherwise he would’ve... well, you know.”

You might guess what the issue is here. Alan could not be missing for two years in 2011; he dove into the lake in September of 2010, even if it’s the very end of 2011, he’s missing for only one year and three months. Yet, this ussie was glanced over; or AWAN, contrary to my belief (and Alan’s), actually takes place in 2011, and Alan pulls the interviews from a very far future. Both possibilities prove the point: time is just a suggestion. In fact, it might be a suggestion so much, Alan is lost in it completely. 2011 and 2012 merged into one thing in his mind, and writing and the Dark Place delivered.

There is also Control’s AWE where the alert goes off far in the future; it’s just one of the things that can suggest the time being bent, I will not go into details about the others, since they are not as solid as this one.

In the second game… boy, do I really need to talk about time there? Allow me to be as short as possible: between each draft of Initiation Alan goes through the loop of Return, that resets again and again: we have loops within loops, and our reality, the world bound by the laws of time, waits patiently when Alan will finish walking around Noir-York, collecting echoes, watching Night Springs, and dancing in his musical, just to rewind to the very moment Nightingale crawls up from the waters of the lake. In one playthrough we can see Alan being shot with the bullet of light at least four times. And one playthrough where Return happens four times takes, let’s say for convenience, a week. The first playthrough is not the first big loop of Initiation-Return Alan goes through, it’s not even the first with Saga Anderson as a hero; she, too, is stuck there for multiple loops already (immunity to the story, my arse). How much time Return ignored while our world was frozen? Who knows! A lot.

Just to hammer it down, let’s also throw in the Time Breaker episode. There time was broken so much, eternity lost its meaning. It is a failed story, I want to stress it, nothing from there made its way into reality in anything more than echoes, but the very fact that Alan can write something like this is telling. He also didn’t fail because of this tremendous amount of time he chose to ignore, the time spent as a tree or hanging on the tree wasn’t an issue there.

And, as the last nail in this coffin, that you can choose to ignore: AWR might or might not be yet another set of loops of the first game: Alan did add the Coffee World and other things he needed to establish for Return, effectively rewriting the past.

All of this paints a pretty clear picture: Alan is above and outside the very concept of time; time is his tool, a point in the story, a toy.

Now, let’s forget about that for a moment and talk about Alan’s life before he encountered Barbie as the Dark Presence. His previous works matter. There are several things that point to him being able to affect reality before 2010 (however many 2010’s he looped through).

Known works of his, that are canonically confirmed being written before 2010 are: the Errand Boy story, the Alex Casey novels, the Night Springs episodes “Over the Threshold, Darkly” (the Control one), and whatever the name was before Alan adapted the episode into AWAN’s “Return,” plus a number of others, that are not specified to my knowledge (yet, we can guess some from the ones that are featured in the first game). All of them, one way or another, are connected to reality.

But before we will talk about it, I want to note one thing. The assumption that Alan is… not a “creative writer” but merely a clairvoyant stenographer of sorts, due to his inspirational visions in the second game is quite popular, yet I strongly disagree and would challenge it. In short, every writer, in one way or another, takes inspiration from reality or other fiction (that was inspired by reality), it’s a given and doesn’t make someone a mere stenographer; we have solid evidence that the events of the Alex Casey novels are different from the life of the real FBI agent Alex Casey; the visions are short plot ideas, meat on these bones must be added for it to be a proper work of art; the Dark Place does not realise any fiction that is not a genuine act of creation:

Therefore, no, Alan is not a clairvoyant stenographer, he is a creative writer. And a good one for that matter; at least I had a blast with “Errand Boy” and an excerpt from “Return to Sender.” With that out of the way, let’s return to the point.

From the works we know, the “Errand Boy,” probably, is the weakest argument, but it did contribute to the Bright Presence’s role (if not even existence), yet it was realised too close to Cauldron Lake and probably pretty deep into the loops, so I won’t go into details with it.

The Night Springs episodes, on the other hand, are somewhere in the middle. We know that all of them were written at the very beginning of Alan’s writing career:

And some of them were realised (or foreshadowed, if you chose to believe that the episodes from the first game have one or two written by Alan, as I do) in the past. Now, I know this is a touchy subject for the community, but at this point, I think, the bigger confirmation of Control being Alan’s work, can be only Remedy’s statement, which reads “Alan wrote the events of Control.” The script of “Over the Threshold, Darkly” is the start of the whole Hiss ordeal and the establishment of the Federal Bureau, which deals with the paranatural, as well as Trench’s (and, one might argue, Darling’s) fate. And if the Hiss and Trench (Darling) at the moment of the writing could be years away from the events that were described, the FBC might or might not have been momentarily turned into what we see it as.

There is also this tricky reversed part in Balance Slays the Demon, that was written for AWAN:

It will happen again, in another town, a town called Ordinary

One can choose how to interpret this line, of course, but we can be certain: the boys are doing their seer/connected-to-the-Dark-Place thing and sing about the truth, that will be. Now to the interpretations. We can take the context of the song and assume that in the Ordinary the “Balance” (Hedron/Polaris/Jesse) will slay the “Demon” (Not-Mother and her bunch). We can take “it” as “AWE” or “the overlap,” meaning the Altered World Event will happen there; an overlap, similar to the one in Night Springs, Arizona, will open. Or we can infer that, given that the song is playing in AWAN, yet another script for the Night Springs will start to come true in the past in the town of Ordinary: the setup for “Over the Threshold, Darkly,” or there might be a different one. Or all those together at once might be true.

The line also could be written off as a teaser for This House of Dreams, since it promises a future event, not stating that something already happened. But here comes this whole thing about the concept of time: we already established that the Dark Place couldn’t be bothered by it. In RCU the concept of something happening in the future for something to happen in the past is as logical as it is for us in reverse. The future influences the past as much as the past influences the future.

There is yet another moment when Alan’s works might’ve played a major role. Mr. Scratch’s involvement in the story. Was he truly in Departure, or was he introduced in the script that was later turned into AWAN’s “Return”? Or was the episode of Night Springs “Man in the Mirror” written by Alan, and that’s why we were treated with Mr. Scratch? The personality of the double in the episode surely matches the sadistic playfulness we see in AWAN.

Let’s move to the Alex Casey novels. In the dialogue between the FBI-Casey and Alan, we learn that the books have, as Casey himself put it, “echoes” of his life, as if he were watched. And then Casey says a peculiar line, reminiscent of the Hitchhiker’s:

“You think you’re God? You think you can just make up stuff? Play with people’s lives and kill them when you think it adds to the drama?”

It goes like this:

“I think you like using people, Wake. Taking their lives and twisting them into your stories. And when someone gets hurt, it’s kickass material for the next one. […] This is not your playground. And I’m not your fucking creation.”

The answer to this is even more curious, but let’s take this apart first. Casey is clearly upset (he even spills his coffee!) and trying to prove that he’s not Alan’s creation. It goes a bit against what he said about echoes: if he felt that he’s being watched, then, surely, the logical conclusion will be that Alan is a creepy stalker, and Casey needs to file for a restraining order (or not, the Alex Casey series is finished; some other legal action maybe?). But for some reason Casey flairs up about using people, getting them hurt, and then using their pain. Why is that? Did he check the dates on the publishing of the books and the events of his life that coincide with what is depicted there? Casey gives us nothing concrete, but the two last sentences heavily hint, that the fictional Casey went through things before the real Casey experienced them himself. Alan, most likely, didn’t create FBI Alex Casey per se, but he did influence his life with his writing.

The response Alan gives to Casey’s outburst is very telling:

“It doesn’t work that way. Even in the Dark Place, where the rules hardly apply, it’s very complicated to make fiction come true. I saw visions of what’s happening, what will happen, dreams. I tried to use them in my writing. I understand how dangerous it is now, even with a paralyzing amount of planning. I think I stopped writing. I think I gave up. But there’s a manuscript. Maybe I forgot not to write. The Dark Place makes you forget.”

Yeah, real cute word-salad, Alan. What I want to draw attention to is this line:

“Even in the Dark Place, where the rules hardly apply, it’s very complicated to make fiction come true.”

Even in the Dark Place… so, what about the outside of the Dark Place? More rules, but, you know, in general, it’s kinda a thing? A bit more hoops to jump through, a bit more fidgeting with the Clicker, a bit more annoyance, but you’ve been there, done that?

He does follow up with “visions,” but at this point it’s very hard to follow — what he’s talking about: the Dark Place or the real world before the Dark Place? Or both, because he’s confused and his head hurts? While I’m not going to claim that Alan is not a capable parautilitarian, who, indeed, can peek into other people’s lives and dreams or even other dimensions and could see into Casey’s future this way, it doesn’t change that, if taken at face value, he kind of admitted to being able to make fiction come true even outside of the Dark Place. Allow me to make an example, so we are all on the same page, let’s say one is playing basketball and states, “even in training, where the rules hardly apply, it’s very complicated to dunk.”

Let’s also not forget that Casey is not the only FBI agent whose life was in one way or another affected by the Dark Place and Alan: Finn, Robert Nightingale’s partner, went missing because of some “craziness in the east” at least some months before September of 2010. Did Alan write it? We don’t really know, since not much in general is known about Robert Nightingale, his partner, and his motivations; but somehow the agent was convinced that Alan is at fault for the “craziness.” We also don’t have more examples of Alan’s previous works to claim this was realised through writing. But he did somehow influence what happened with Finn and Nightingale long before Bright Falls and from outside of the Dark Place. We are not talking AW1 or AWAN level of “outside of the Dark Place,” because all the fiction (or visions) that came true in those games was created inside the Dark Place, and after Alan was already tightly connected to it…

Or was he always? Herald of Darkness, really, is such a gem. Let’s take a look at what the boys have to say about it with their “visions of what’s happening, what will happen.” We will skip through Alan’s and Door’s parts, after all, if you reading this, there is a chance you know them well enough or at least know where to find the lyrics.

On the nightmares, the Clicker and being drawn to stories:

C'mon in and listen Lost words you've been missing Of the fire you're bearing The eye of the darkness, your light […] So here is a clue Of hope to remember Visions, they come true Obeying the light switch too

It’s all about baby-Alan (according to the manuscript from the Well-Lit Room — 7 y.o.), who was still waking up in the middle of the night and couldn’t sleep, because he was horrified. The eye of the darkness — his light? Visions come true obeying the Clicker? By the way, we are talking about a kid who’s suffering from a rare congenital condition, that makes him overly sensitive to light. He is blinded by bright light and prone to migraines, as stated in the guide to the first game. Almost like those Taken that lived through the first game and then were suffering severe photosensitivity per “The Alan Wake Files.” This also heavily enforces that Alan’s line “even in the Dark Place, where the rules hardly apply, it’s very complicated to make fiction come true” can be taken literally: it is hard and complicated, with a bunch of rules, much more so than in the Dark Place, but possible in the real world: visions, they come true.

Now, allow me to digress a little, because we need to explore the Clicker very briefly. Alan described it to Alice as a source of a magic light, that can make nightmares go away; in the first game it was a source of a magic light and a key; in the second game it became an amp as well. With the source of a magic light, everything is pretty simple: Linda Wake, Alan’s mother, convinced him about that, using his father as an argument — everything of his father’s took on mythical proportions in Alan’s mind. We see this magic light thrice: when Alan clicks the night away in the Well-Lit Room:

When he summons the Bright Presence in the apartment, and when he “fills [the Dark Presence’s] heart with light”:

Yup, Alan’s first OoP, that he created is a glorified flashlight.

The Clicker as the key was established by the boys of OGoA in The Poet and the Muse:

And now to see your love set free You will need the witch's cabin key Find the lady of the light gone mad with the night That's how you reshape destiny

And Alan did use it as a key in a way: he took the Clicker out before jumping into the lake. Considering how the first game was stressing the “key” quality of the Clicker, an argument might be made, that without it in hand, Alan would just crash onto the waters below, and only the possession of the “key” allowed him to enter the Dark Place instead of expiring. In the second game, the Clicker suddenly became an amp; who exactly decided on this quality we don’t really know, I would bet on Scratch (Alan will follow any belief Scratch has, since he himself doesn’t remember the truth anyways), but Alan agrees and the boys, too. Funnily, one might say it was used as a key more in the second game than it was in the first: Scratch opened an overlap with it, letting the Dark Place to seep into our world, then it was used to close the overlap with the new ending of Return (not to mention what had happened on the shore of Cauldron Lake). Why do we need to know all this? Because, no matter if the Clicker, aside from being a glorified torch, is a key or an amp, little baby-Alan, seven years old, was either closing and opening his connection to the Dark Place, the source of his nightmares (as the AW1 episode one “Nightmare” shows), and a powerful reality-bending dimension; or through the amp quality of the Clicker could make the visions come true.

So, the boys in this part of the song spelled it for us: Alan was at least connected to the powers of the Dark Place and his light was the eye of the darkness.

Moving on. On getting famous and fame’s impact:

The story's the end-all A piece of true fiction Made meaningless in The face of creation […] Fighting the nightmares Torch and a light switch A gift or a curse A reality made of dreams

The story, as far as I understand now, is the last Alex Casey novel, I might be wrong, so we will skip it — there are other ways to look at those words. But “fighting the nightmares with a torch and a light switch” and “reality made of dreams”… well, that sounds an awful lot like Alan’s already in the story! And the torch here is a metaphor or a flashlight? Actually, both will do. The reality is already made of dreams; and it’s not only about Alan’s dreams coming true in the most cheerful and nicest meaning.

But in the last part there is much more.

He could write a new story Like Tom Zane before him And maybe they'd be happy once again

Tom Zane, as we know from This House of Dreams, wrote a story for him and Barbara to have a private island in the Dark Place, where they can live their happy-ever-after. The problem here is: we are not yet at the point in the song when Alice will be kidnapped, it’s still what could be instead of the whole ordeal with the Dark Presence. One might interpret it as “if Alan would just write a new book, they won’t be in need of a vacation in a place with a shrink,” but Tom’s name is there. And the only story, to our knowledge, that influenced the happiness of Tom’s and Barbara’s was the Last Poem, that was no mere poem, but a story that shaped the Dark Place. Which, again, points out that Alan could make fiction come true before Bright Falls by just writing away all his and marriage’s problems.

Still he's the torch bearer And it couldn't be much clearer A war needs its warrior, true and right But the darkness within him Held her hostage Had he seen her drowning Would have saved her from the darkness of the lake

Alright, here we have a very confusing part. Alan’s torchbearer and a warrior true and right, okay, that’s fair. The problem is — he’s also the darkness, that holds Alice hostage, the very darkness he’s supposed to fight against. And, by the way, “had he seen her drowning”? I’ll get back to this.

To finish with Herald of Darkness, let’s just remember that the song with this name is about Alan. He’s a Champion of Light as much as he’s the Herald of Darkness, especially now, when Mr. Scratch, the only entity that was not in its core Alan himself, is gone and cannot fill those shoes.

To summarise everything that was established: the Dark Place knows nothing about time, Alan has been connected to the Dark Place since he was born, and he is both the light and the darkness.

What do the other characters have to say about this? Mr. Door points out that all the rules Alan follows are self-imposed and that he doesn’t know who’s under his mask, before politely asking to play his part in Door’s business or stay out of his way. Ahti says about that “fearing the master is the root of wisdom,” and it’s not really clear who’s the master there, since after that Ahti comforts Alan by saying that Mr. Door is just playing his role and, if something, Alan can just shove him into a film, as it was done with Ahti himself. Here, I guess, will be a great time to remind, that the Dark Place is in Ahti’s bucket:

And that the quest to find the Master of Many Worlds, always leads to Alan. I’d say the roles are: Door is the wise one.

Dr. Darling in his research of the Dark Place concluded that it is a dreamscape and the dreamer has a voice, weirdly similar to his own.

I don’t really know where I should put Noir-Casey, since he’s Alan’s figment of imagination as Barry was in the AW1 DLCs, yet he’s a character with enough agency to be considered, so I will slap him in between. After Alan shoots him, Noir-Casey has an internal monologue, that ends with:

“I was the dark place, the source of it all, the vessel. Me and the writer, we were the same.”

In different circumstances, I wouldn’t take those words at face value, but here they mean exactly what they say: it’s not a metaphor, it’s the truth. There are many truths like that sprinkled throughout the game — so blatantly, it’s hard to take them seriously.

Finally, Alan himself has something to say about this. Well, aside from proclaiming himself the Master of Many Worlds in the end of the Final Draft.

“If time is not a straight line, then there are loops beyond loops; these loops vast complex superstructures beyond what’s happening to me now ahead of me, and I’m there as well, a version of me, something I have become some elevated, enlightened version, an archon, a demiurge, a demon of some sort playing a secret game, building something his past self, a pawn to get him there, a deus ex machina pushing me there.”

He’s not wrong, we know that there is a deus-ex-machina-Alan, that calls on the phone, and there is an elevated version of him, that told the boys of OGoA that something is coming. Alice as well said, that there is only one way out of the loop: ascension or destruction. We saw both, but ended on the ascension.

Given that the most powerful entity established as of now, Ahti, is not only in Alan’s film, but also had a breakdown because of the story, we can estimate Alan’s ability to influence both (many) worlds. ‘Tis tremendous.

With this knowledge let’s look at the games with a thought that Alan is indeed the Dark Place, the vessel, the source of it all.

Tom Zane was written by Alan or Alan assumed the role of Tom for some time, placing Alice as Barbara. “Had he seen her drowning” is not only about Alice, it’s about Barbara as well. By the information we have, before the Dark Presence, they were very similar: both (blond) sweet, nice ladies, both muses to their respective writers, both drowned (even if Alan twisted it to Alice being held as a hostage), both were written back (success differs). Given that the story is a spiral and loops could be endless with different events, this moment from the video for “War” by Poets of the Fall can easily be a hint from yet another loop:

There are supporting lines in the game, where Alice’s voice says Barbara’s words and Alan’s — Tom’s. And the photos from This House of Dreams, that states that this lady is the poet’s girlfriend that drowned.

And this lady does look more like Alice than like Barbara, as we know her from the games.

In the Herald of Darkness furthermore the line “had he seen her drowning” is curious not because of the “seen” part, clairvoyance and all, we know, but because of “drowning” (Alice is dead theory might happen™). Alice had drowned per Herald of Darkness; even the first game calls it into question, as does the board in QB:

Let me sprinkle more things, I believe, can tie this up.

The Dark Place itself is something Alan created for Alice, to save her, it’s tightly connected to her and the tragedy that happened, hence it’s wet and it’s dark. He wanted her to not only return to him, but also not be far from her comfort-nightmare-zone (because he wouldn’t believe that death is a bright and nice cheerful place; if he would even allow himself to believe it, he might’ve lost the ability to drag her back from there). The Dark Place is an ocean, a lake, a body of water because Alice drowned. It is also awfully similar to the dark room every photographer uses. It makes art “real” — develops film into physical pictures, and to make those physical pictures one must find a correct way to do so. Just like Alan loops, searching for exact steps to make the story work, what solution to use when and for how long.

The Bright Falls is Night Springs and was created by Alan to spin this tale of “Alice is held hostage by supernatural darkness” in a spooky town with questionable history and a haunted lake instead of her drowning. Was there a town before Alan started to search for the way to save his wife? Who knows! But if there was, it was surely quite different. This is the tabletop game “Night Springs”:

This is the overview of Bright Falls. Find 5 differences.

Yes, Sarah does say that there is a joke that Night Springs was inspired by Bright Falls, but not to this extent, otherwise she would surely point it out (they even stole our map!). For Alan, though, it’s only natural to use Night Springs to make a town where all those supernatural things can take place; he needed a playground, and when he needs one, as AWAN and NS DLC show, he turns to Night Springs.

And lastly, I wrote that much about the relationship between the Dark Place and time not only to hint that the story could be written starting from any date (who else won’t be surprised if in the future games we will see Alan writing the very creation of Cauldron Lake?), but also to highlight one important thing. The only character, who can manipulate time that drastically is Alan. He’s the one to create loops, he’s the one to make Mr. Scratch “send him back in time” instead of killing him, he’s the one to stall the world for Return to play out again and again, and he’s the one who dies only to be back at the safe spot in the story to adjust things. Not only his cutscenes with touching the forehead point on him dying and looping back, even the casual death during the playthrough shows him dead on the floor, not the message that this is not how the story goes. Story for Alan allows his death, and every time a player is killed, we have yet another dead Alan (F for all the Alans we lost along the way).

With all this said, we have an immortal being, that cannot be killed, can split himself into multiple other beings, can change reality in a way that anything, no matter how far into the past (or the future) it happened, will become the new truth, who shaped the primordial ocean after his wife’s tragic passing, turning it or a part of it into the Dark Place, kept dreaming the surroundings to fit his needs, and is considered the Master of Many Worlds. I think Ahti’s Sankarin Tango sums it up nicely, so I will leave you with it.

Once, he mistook an ocean for a lake, he told us in a poem In the depths of that mystery he spent his whole life Under a dark ocean, in the shadows he wanders Searching for a way back into the light to his loved one Alone, the hero continues his journey into the night That burden on his shoulders forever like a promise In this game this fool is struck down again and again Only a moment's rest in death before he's called back again Time breaks into eternity, a gunshot echoes There’s never a happy end for him This story has been told many times before The hero has a thousand faces and a hopeless path Alone, the hero continues his journey into the night That burden on his shoulders forever like a promise In this game this fool is struck down again and again Only a moment's rest in death before he's called back again

#rcu theory #alan wake #alan wake 2 #alan wake game #alan wake ii #remedy connected universe #alan wake's american nightmare #awan #night springs #remedy games #remedyverse #remedy entertainment

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maximilliansblog · 10 months ago

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Welcome Home Hyacinth Theory 🏠🪻🐛

Hello Tumblr! Most Welcome Home theories are just little bits and pieces or “Wally is evil, guys look!”/”Wally is not evil! He is a goober!” etc.

This theory is fully fledged and provides a plot and evidence. I call it the Welcome Home “Hyacinth” theory, after the myth that it is based on. This will be a very long post so here is a TLDR: Julie kills Eddie while they are playing croquette-bowling out of jealousy because he is getting too close to Frank, who is supposed to be her boyfriend/best friend within the show. Either just Eddie or everyone involved gets replaced, except for Wally, who witnessed everything. This is why we have all of those videos of Wally dissociating.

I have been sitting around in my toom rambling to myself about this theory like a madman for over a week so I decided to share it.

Please reference this post from @/partycoffin (the creator of Welcome Home) when discussing Welcome Home and be respectful in the comments and reblogs.

Extra information from @theneighborhoodwatch:

Welcome Home Observation Document

Welcome Home Livestream Trivia

Welcome Home Archive Links + Backup Screenshots

Fanmade Welcome Home Wiki (I don't recommend the Fandom wiki)

Extra information on exploring the website from @angel-lyah:

Welcome Home Website Secrets

Alright, let’s get into it! I have evidence to back up every single one of those claims, and I will include it in this post.

I want to be very thorough with explaining this. I’ll start by establishing that there are three main plots within Welcome Home (that I have noticed, anyways):

The plot of the late 60’s - early 70’s TV show, Welcome Home - only related to published episodes, books, audios, etc. that would have been shown to the public at the time of airing Welcome Home

“Behind the show” - feelings and actions of the puppets outside of the show (such as Frank and Eddie being a couple, or Frank being nonbinary)

The Welcome Home Restoration Project - people working to restore the TV show, Welcome Home, and find any and all information related to it and who made it

Okay so for the rest of this essay, when I mention BtS, it is related to the “behind the show” plot. I will color these things blue. When I write WtS, it is related to the “within the show” plot. I will color these things green. When I write WHRP, it is related to the Welcome Home Restoration Project. I will color these things pink. I will also mention things that have been said either on Clown’s Tumblr blog, Clown’s Twitter, or old streams. I will say CS, meaning “Clown source” to denote these things and color them orange. Clown source and behind the show areas often overlap, so Clown source information is dominant over behind the show information (if it is both I will just color it orange). Good? Good.

Now let’s establish our characters (only the ones related to this theory) and their relationships to one another. We’ll go alphabetically, starting with Eddie, then moving onto Frank, Julie, and Wally.

I’m going to assume that if you are reading this, you have already visited the website (clownillustration.com) and have a basic understanding of who Eddie is. So I will only focus on the elements of his character that will be relevant in this theory.

Eddie (WtS) is clumsy and overworks himself. He is often dragged into Julie’s games. His house (post office) looks like this:

Note the hyacinth flowers and the butterfly. Eddie (BtS) loves Frank. (CS) He is married to Frank in one art on Clown’s Tumblr. BY THE WAY IT TOOK FOREVER TO FIND THIS IMAGE!!!! THEY ARE IN THE BOTTOM LEFT CORNER!!

Frank (WtS) is Julie’s boyfriend as it is implied that they are a couple within the show (I know a lot of us don’t like hearing this, but remember the three plots) (also for everyone that is going to argue with me on this, go look on their little profiles in the neighborhood section of the website and come back to me) and best friend. His house looks like this:

Note the sunflowers. Frank (BtS) loves Eddie.

(CS) As I said before, in one art on Clown’s Tumblr, Eddie and Frank are married (you can tell by the rings on their fingers in that image) . Frank is nonbinary but uses he/him pronouns (Clown refers to Frank on his blog with only he/him pronouns, so that is what I will use. Nonbinary people do not have to use they/them pronouns! Pronouns are not equal to gender!)

(WtS) Julie is a rainbow monster. Her thing is that she likes to make up and play games. She seems to be very strong (perhaps related to her being a rainbow monster), as she can easily lift Wally and is indirectly referenced to [throw a baseball very well] by Barnaby in the Live Interview audio. She also incorporates bowling into a lot of games where it is unnecessary. She seems to be immature, which is usually used to make her a playful character. Her and Frank are a couple. In several arts, her horns are different shapes or even nonexistent, implying that she has some ability to change her form. Her house looks like this:

Note the heart motif throughout the design. (BtS) Julie is best friends with Frank. (CS) She is genderfluid (she is only referred to using she/her pronouns on Clown’s blog, so that is what I will use).

(WtS) Wally is the main character in Welcome Home. His house is alive and is named Home. Home is often considered to be a ninth neighbor. Wally often communicates for Home. (WHRP) Wally signs Home’s name in the guestbook (as Home does not have hands) (please stop with the tentacles I have seen the art please stop for the love of god where did that even come from). (WtS) The other neighbors frequently ignore and talk over Wally, but he doesn’t seem to mind, saying that he loves all of his friends in the live interview audio.

Okay so now that that is established, let’s look at some promotional art. Promotional art is not necessarily canon and may contain outdated designs, but may hint at the plot of Welcome Home.

There is one more artwork that I would like to add, but it is on Clown’s KoFi. Here is a link to it that you can look at if you are subscribed to Clown’s KoFi:

[link to Clown’s KoFi here]

I won’t describe the image because some of you may not be subscribed to Clown’s KoFi. But if you are, you will see that the image supports my theory.

While we are discussing that image, I would also like to say that I believe that the puppets are some kind of biological organisms. I don’t have much evidence for this right now, but I may make a theory in the future.

We will come back to those promotional arts soon. Right now, let’s look at Frank and Eddie’s houses and discuss some symbolism and mythology.

Frank’s house has sunflowers outside of it. Sunflowers are a symbol of Apollo. Eddie has hyacinths outside of his post office, obviously a symbol of Hyacinthus. Hyacinthus and Apollo were lovers, but Hyacinthus tragically died. Let me tell the story so we have context. (I am really into Greek mythology by the way, it’s always been a special interest since middle school but I am also a Hellenic pagan, you should follow my witchcraft and paganism blog, creatively named @maxiswitchcraftandpaganblog)

So Apollo, god of the sun, art, archery, and LOTS of various other things, loved Hyacinthus, who was a mortal Spartan man. And Hyacinthus loved him too, by the way. The god of the (west? don’t feel like googling it) wind, Zephyrus, was jealous of Hyacinthus, because he also loved Apollo.

One day, Apollo and Hyacinthus were playing discus (like frisbee but the frisbee is giant and made of metal, kind of like a shield). Apollo threw the discus to Hyacinthus, but Zephyrus blew the discus off course with the wind, causing it to hit Hyacinthus in the head and kill him. Apollo created the hyacinth flower from Hyacinthus’ blood as he died, but in some myths made him a god. (read more on Apollo and Hyacinthus here)

I’m going to draw some parallels here. Frank = Apollo, Eddie = Hyacinthus, Julie = Zephyrus. Now Frank’s and Eddie’s parallels make sense because of the flowers, but where did I get Julie=Zephyrus from? Recall that (WtS) Julie and Frank are supposed to be a couple. Now, (BtS) Julie may or may not like Frank in that way, but she certainly enjoys being close to him as his best friend. Since she is already established as an immature character, it would make sense that she would be jealous seeing Frank get closer to Eddie.

Pause. So WtS, Frank and Julie are together. BtS, Frank and Eddie are together. If these are separate, then what is Julie jealous about? (WtS) Frank has been seen getting closer to Eddie even in the official material of the show. An example of this is him telling Eddie that he works too hard at the end of the “Eddie’s Big Lift” storybook record. So his BtS love for Eddie is leaking into the WtS canon. That is a problem for Julie, who is supposed to be Frank’s girlfriend WtS. So she comes up with an idea to fix this, much like the jealous god, Zephyrus.

So what does she do? Let’s turn our attention to the “Just So” song demo. This song was never finished with instrumentals, and for a reason. The puppets function as actors in the show, as it is obvious that they have their own free will, and Julie does something that the writers do not expect later in this episode. So the song was never finished because the episode was ruined.

In the “Just So” song demo, Frank and Julie are about to play croquette bowling. It was supposed to be just croquette, as Frank put on his croquette bow tie, but last minute, Julie added bowling to the mix.

Wally knocks on the door and interrupts their song, saying that Home wants to play croquette bowling too. This implies that Julie told someone else that they would be playing croquette bowling after she added bowling. I feel like Wally and Home overheard Julie telling Eddie that they would be playing croquette bowling. This would make sense, as Wally often stands by and listens while the other neighbors talk. It is not unusual for Eddie to participate in Julie’s games, either, as we see from Julie playing “business woman in the big city” with him. [add a photo]

The song recording ends before we see them playing croquette bowling together. But I have a piece of evidence to tell us how it ends. Look at this promotional art again.

You probably assumed that the figure in the back was holding a hammer, but that could actually be a croquette mallet!

It’s covered in some gory-looking stuff, probably from Eddie. Now look at the flower. Whose eyes look like that? Almond-shaped, round pupils. Only one character: Wally. Wally was a witness, which would make sense for him, since he often watches on as the other neighbors do things.

Julie is holding the flower in front of her, looking innocent. This is a stretch, but I think that this might be symbolism for her saying that she didn’t do it on purpose, Wally saw the whole thing, ask him! And Wally doesn’t know what to do. I don’t know what he does from there.

Maybe this image is a clue? I genuinely don’t know. Once again, promotional art is not necessarily canon, but we can use the concepts from it in theories.

This next part is also a bit of a stretch. The neighbors having a memory of something like that happening would ruin their “acting” (I think they are just being recorded as they do what they would naturally do). The show can’t have that. The solution? Replace everyone involved.

Now go back and look in the promotional art section and look at that art of Frank. It looks like Frank is laying among extra puppet parts. They have extras!

And this is why Wally is dissociating in the videos we see when we click on the bugs. They did not replace him, because like the neighbors, they didn’t even notice he was there.

Okay yeah that’s the theory. It was really hard to get this into a coherent Google Doc and gather all the links. I was just rambling to myself about this in my room over and over pacing around for like a week. But yeah here you go, hope it's a good theory, sorry if it's not lol please be nice to me

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