#maybe during those 12 days of peace.

[nikoisme]

The achaeans should play volleyball on the beach,, idk

[wondergotham]

You Look Like You Love Me

Request: “can you make a joaquin torres imagine where sam basically raised you and was your father figure. after some time, you grow up and then joaquin comes into the picture. we meet and fall in love blah blah blah. please!!”

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader

Warning: Mentions of blood & death

Your father’s name was Riley. Riley Y/L/N. He was a pararescue for the Air Force and your Uncle Sam’s best friend.

They were both selected to be test pilots for the EXO-7 Falcon.

Tragically, your father was killed during the mission by an RPG.

Your Uncle Sam ended his Air Force service after this and was left with guilt and turmoil. Even though there was nothing he could've done it still haunted him.

You were 12 years old, left without both of your parents.

Your mom passed away a few days after she gave birth. You never met her, but you had many memories of your father and Uncle Sam.

Sam had known you his whole life.

He was there when your father told him he was going to be an uncle, he was at the hospital after your mother gave birth, when your father asked him to be your godfather…..and so on.

He was there for you both. Even years later.

So when Riley died he knew he couldn't let the government take you away. Not when he knew he could raise you.

He was going to keep his best friend's promise.

Sam knew he would never be able to raise you the way Riley and your mom would have. But he could try. And maybe he would need Sarah’s help…but he knew he could do it.

He had to. For his best friend.

“Sam, you have to promise me, brother, if something happens to me you'll take care of Y/n.”

Not a day goes by that Sam doesn’t think about what his best friend told him.

He remembers it clear as day.

The hand Riley placed on his shoulder and how he stared into his soul. It’s almost as if he knew something would happen to him.

Sam was taken aback. He was going to throw in a joke but his best friend's expression said it all.

He was serious.

It was Sam's turn to place his hand on Riley's shoulder. "Riley. I promise you I will protect and take care of Y/n. She's my goddaughter, my family, you can always count on me."

Riley nodded.

"Thank you Sam. My little girl and I are lucky to have you in our lives."

After that moment everything happened so fast. Riley's funeral, you receiving the burial flag, his will being read.

Riley Y/L/N was known for his infectious laughter and unwavering loyalty to those he loved. He had a vibrant life filled with adventure, but his greatest joy was being a father to you, his spirited daughter.

The bond you shared was unique, filled with bedtime stories, impromptu dance parties, and countless adventures in the backyard.

As you approached your 12th birthday, your father began to ponder about the future. He wanted to ensure that should anything happen to him, you would be safe and cared for.

After much reflection, he decided to draft his will, a task that was daunting but necessary.

"In the event of my death, I designate my best friend, Samuel Thomas Wilson, as the legal guardian of my daughter, Y/n Y/l/n. I trust him to provide her with love, guidance, and the support she deserves."

Riley signed the document with a sense of peace, knowing that Sam would be a steadfast guardian. They had always been there for each other, navigating life's storms side by side.

Sam was a natural choice, someone who understood his values and shared his dreams and love for you.

Sam, standing at the front of the court, felt a ripple of emotions. He had always known how much Riley loved you, and now he was entrusted with your future.

Despite the overwhelming sadness, he felt a sense of purpose ignite within him. He stepped forward, his heart heavy but determined. He looked at the judge.

"I promise to honor Riley's wishes," He affirmed, his voice steady. "Y/n will always have a home with me. I will be there for her, just as Riley would have wanted."

With that promise, Sam embraced his new role as your guardian. He moved you into his and Sarah's home, surrounded by memories that felt both comforting and heart-wrenching.

The first few weeks were challenging; you were still grappling with your grief, and Sam was navigating the complexities of parenthood.

In the months that followed the house was filled with laughter and love. Sam made sure to keep your father's memory alive, sharing stories of their adventures and teaching you the values your father held dear.

You both shared stories of him, laughing and crying as you remembered the man who had brought you two together.

One evening, as you both sat together on the porch, you looked up at Sam, your eyes filled with uncertainty. “Do you think Dad is watching over us?” You asked.

Sam nodded, his heart aching for your loss. “I believe he is. And I think he wants us to be happy, and continue living our lives to the fullest. He loved you so much Y/n. I know I'm not your dad sweetheart but I promise you will always be safe and loved. I will always be here for you, okay?"

"I know Uncle Sam. You know, my dad loved you too. He always said you were the brother he never had. He said something about you and him being the less rich version of Dr. Dre and Eminem."

Sam snorted before throwing his head back with laughter.

"Yeah, that sounds like your father."

As the months turned into years, Sam encouraged you to pursue your interests, from academics to sports, always reminding you that you were capable of achieving your dreams.

Though your father was gone, the love he had instilled in your lives continued to thrive, a testament to friendship, family, and the enduring power of love.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Now several years later your bond was stronger than ever. After a lot of hesitation and lectures, Sam let you become an Avenger.

He knew your father would have wanted that for you. You both shared the passion to protect and help people.

You joined the Avengers when Tony brought Peter to the airport battle in Germany. (Not that you remember, because you didn't anymore)

Since then you've been helping the world and your Uncle/Godfather as Y/H/N. (Your hero name)

Earlier Sam received a call from President Ross. He was sending the both of you and Joaquin to Oaxaca, Mexico for a mission.

Luckily your uncle had been working with Joaquin for 3 years now so you were able to spend more time on the field kicking ass instead of being behind the computer.

Those days were long gone.

Sam did this because he still was hesitant about you joining on some missions. Despite the fact that Tony, Natasha and Steve continued to train you after Thanos had snapped half of the population away.

Your Uncle was one out of the many gone but you were left untouched. You had to live 5 years without the man that had became a second father to you.

To make a long story short you were a completely different person when Sam came back. You were all grown up.

You were a stronger, quicker, and more skilled fighter. But in the years that Sam was gone you also managed to set up a foundation named after your father.

The Riley Y/L/N Foundation, there was also a scholarship named after him and an award. Sam could not be more prouder. You had done great things in the time that he was gone.

He liked to believe him and Riley raised you well.

Now when it came to boys, Sam was definitely overprotective. He said,"No dating until you're 30." But that obviously wasn't going to happen.

Sure you had a few crushes here and there but they never became anything more.

Sam was certain he wouldn't have to worry about any guy coming into your life until he realized how big of a crush Joaquin had on you.

He did everything he could to delay the moment when you two would meet.

Today, it was out of his control.

Sam walked in first and you followed next to him.

As you step into the room, you feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Your attention is immediately drawn to Joaquin.

You feel a rush of anticipation. He’s cute, you think, noticing the way he fidgets slightly—a sign of his own nerves.

It makes you feel strangely comforted, as if you’re both navigating this moment together.

As Joaquin stands by, he feels a flutter of nerves in his stomach when he first sees you enter the room.

Wow, he thinks, she’s stunning.

You’re wearing a simple but beautiful dress under your white blazer that catches the light just right, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

His heart races as he notices the way your hair falls softly around your shoulders, framing your face.

"Joaquin?" Sam snapping his fingers instantly made the young man to look up at him.

Oh God it's bad, Sam thought.

"Sorry, you were saying?" He shook his head trying to refocus. There's no way he just made a fool of himself in front of you already.

The small giggle that escapes your lips is like music, and Joaquin can’t help but smile, feeling warmth spread through him.

"I want you to meet my niece and goddaughter Y/n L/n also known as-"

"Y/H/N." Joaquin finished.

"She's going to be joining us on the mission today."

You caught the way he froze like a deer in headlights but found it adorable.

What if she doesn’t like me? The thought flickers through Joaquin's mind, but it quickly fades as he recalls your smile.

This must be what they mean by love at first sight, he muses, a mix of excitement and disbelief washing over him.

He feels his cheeks heat up, wishing he could muster the confidence to say something without stumbling over his words.

Just be yourself, he reminds himself, taking a deep breath.

As you move closer, he prepares himself, ready to embrace whatever magic might come from this first meeting.

He takes a steadying breath, feeling both excitement and anxiety swirling in his stomach.

Finally, gathering his courage, he steps forward, his heart pounding like a drum. His step feels monumental, he knows he can’t let this chance slip away.

“Hey, I’m Joaquin, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm a huge fan of your work both on and off the field."

He extends his arm waiting for you to shake his hand. You feel a warmth spread through you.

His voice might be a bit shaky, but there’s an earnestness in his words that captivates you.

"Especially with everything you have done to preserve your father's legacy. It's incredible.” He smiles, his voice slightly shaky but warm, hoping to convey his genuine interest.

He’s different, you think, appreciating how he seems genuinely interested in you.

When your hand finally meets his he swears he could have flatlined in that moment. Your hand is small but soft with a gentle yet firm grip.

Your eyes sparkle with curiosity. “Thank you Joaquin that's very sweet of you I really appreciate it. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, I've heard a lot about you.”

The moment your eyes lock, a spark ignites within him. He feels an electric connection, as if the world around you has faded into the background.

You feel a spark—a sense of possibility.

Could this be something special? The thought comes through your mind, making your heart race even faster.

You find yourself leaning in, drawn to his sincerity and charm. It's so easy to talk to him.

For the first time in a while, you feel giddy and hopeful about what might unfold between you both.

"All good things I hope." Joaquin chuckles nervously.

"And nothing but, I promise." You wink.

Dios mío, he thinks.

For a split second one of Joaquin's knees gives in but he quickly recovers by standing back up straight.

It went unnoticed to you as you glanced at your phone but not to Sam.

In that moment, Joaquin feels a rush of hope. Maybe this is the start of something special.

He realizes that this simple conversation is not just a moment; it’s the beginning of a connection he’s been yearning for.

"Okay sweetheart let me show you where you can put your gear. We're gonna be taking off soon." Sam wraps his arm around your shoulder leading you away.

You nodded excitedly looking at Joaquin before following your uncle, "I'll see you later Joaquin."

"Yeah, of course." He smiles.

Sam looks at him mouthing a no and shaking his finger before walking out with you.

Joaquin just chuckles quietly.

He can’t help but feel a sense of excitement about this unexpected connection. He enjoyed the small moment, already imagining the laughter and adventures you might share in the future.

Little did he know, you were doing the same.

[visenyaism]

hearing about the great bastards ocs as someone who doesnt know that part of westeros history is so funny... who is dae2mon... who is anus blackfyre

Okay so. There’s this king Aegon “The Unworthy” the 4th (ae4gon if you don’t have time) and because he was just kind of born under a bad sign he was the wooooooooorst guy ever like comically terrible recreationally cruel misanthropic turbohedonist. Just fucking disrespectful. He didn’t have an evil plan or anything. He was just kind of using his power to antagonize everyone he disliked enrich himself and also have one million mistresses.

He had two siblings who were the exact opposite of him and that his sister and brother were both the most neurotic westerosi tradcaths. Ae4gon hated his brother Aemon (lame ass knight who died in his service, despite despising him, which was kind of dickrider behavior )and used his sister Naerys (baby-bird-victim-wannabe-nun) who he also had to marry as a weapon against him because he knew they liked each other so he would just kind of be awful to her as a way to get into his brother‘s mind. Ae4gon and Naerys had two children who survived to adulthood the important one to this story is Daeron, who was by all accounts kind of a nerd he like was chubby and liked to read books and think about his decisions before he made them.

But Ae4gon also had his aforementioned like 1 billion mistresses and he had kids with all of them. Those kids are called great bastards these are the ocs. The most important canon ones are Bittersteel who’s the bracken one he’s like 7 foot eight and fucking belligerent and then there’s Bloodraven who’s the Blackwood one and he’s an evil twink who invented the surveillance state using bird blood magic and also only has one eye because Bittersteel ate it during a duel. i’m getting ahead of myself. There’s also Shiera who had two different color eyes and was the most prettiest princess in the party and also maybe a blood witch? she was trying to challengers Bloodraven and Bittersteel a little bit but ended up hooking up with Bloodraven more until she left him? who knows.

However, the most important bastard child of all was Daemon “Daemy B” Blackfyre. His mom was a Targaryen Princess who should have been the queen except misogyny did win the war on misogyny during the dance of the dragons so she wasn’t. Daemy B was a bastard, but he was his dad‘s favorite because he was masc and had an eight pack and a magic sword he was named after called blackfyre, which was Valyrian steel. Ae4gon gave it to him instead of Daeron, his legitimate heir.

One day Ae4gon got bored and decided that he was gonna declare Daeron the illegitimate child of his two siblings, cause he didn’t like him. this successfully killed off both of his siblings (don’t worry about it) and made Daemy B a more likely contender for the crown. And then another day Ae4gon got bored again and decided that not only was he going to die, but on his way out, he was actually going to retroactively legitimize every single one of his thousand bastard children so they could start a realm destroying civil war because fuck the world.

For a while, no one started around destroying civil war, but then about 12 years passed and Bittersteel with his bracken treachery, convinces Daemy B to make a go for the throne because he was way hotter and sword-er than his brother. Every single one of the Blackfyre allies is like the evil league of evil it’s Brackens it’s Peakes it’s Toynes I know there would be Coles there probably. it’s also racists because Daeron had a Dornish Martell wife because he negotiate a peace treaty to bring Dorne into the realm through marriage and alliances, instead of just trying to kill them all again and some did not like this.

However, Daemy B forgot to consider that having the Brackens on his side meant that he would LOSE. and they had a big battle at the end of the first rebellion where Daemy B gets shot and dies because of Bloodraven and Shiera inventing heat-seeking weirwood missiles. Bittersteel cuts out Bloodraven’s eye and then takes Daemy B’s like one billion kids he had with his wife and flees to essos.

However, (man I introduced the thread of this guy having a lot of kids too late) anyway, Daemy B has a lot of kids and those kids about once every 20 minutes decides they’re gonna do a Blackfyre Rebellion cause maybe it’ll work this time.

One of those kids is Daemon II Blackfyre (Dae2mon), who is the Mystery Knight in the Dunk and Egg Novella in the Mystery Knight. He is a melancholic twink who loves to play the fiddle and is constantly haunted by his prophetic dreams. He says I dreamed of you. He hits on Dunk who is too stupid to clock it. He goes over to Westeros to start another Blackfyre rebellion, which is contingent on winning a tourney and hatching a dragon egg but it doesn’t work because Bloodraven did invent the modern surveillance state using bird blood magic and thus identifies it instantly thwarts the whole thing and takes Dae2mon hostage he’s like the court gay false prophet purse dog for a while and then he dies mysteriously. He’s my favorite for being Renly Baratheon.

This pattern of Blackfyres coming over trying to start a rebellion and getting Bloodraven nuked from orbit continues until there is a great council because the king has no heirs. And Bloodraven invites Aenys Blackfyre, the current Blackfyre, over to westeros to be like okay we will hear you out. This is JUST an excuse to kill his ass. However in a twist of fate WOKE EGG becomes the king at the council and is like Bloodraven you canttttttttt actually just invite people to my house to kill them. That was my cousin I did not like that you🫵 are going to the wall🙂‍↕️. And woke egg sends Bloodraven to the wall. Bloodraven gets himself elected lord commander and then deserts to go be a tree. The end. Sort of.

[hollyskywalker]

Worst nightmare

She had him wrapped around her little finger.  

Coriolanus knew she did. He's no longer the same teenage boy trying to wrap his head around what this achy feeling in his chest is. He no longer convinces himself it's hunger, or that he's just confused. He knows the feeling is longing, desire, lust, or maybe even love.  

After everything that happened in District 12 with Sejanus, with Lucy and the people he left behind he had hoped he'd never have to go through this again. A foolish hope, he realizes now. He's a human being and it's almost unavoidable there are people out there who would know just the right thing to say or just the right thing to do for him to lose his ambition focused mind in the fog that is love, or obsession in his case. He's not sure there's really a difference between the two.  

But he thought he knew better than to let someone in again. He hadn't liked how Lucy made him feel vulnerable, and how it had hurt when he realized she'd left him in the woods.  

Yet here he was, pressing this infuriating woman against the wall with her legs wrapped around his hips, their lips barely parting to breathe before pulling the other back in. 

She was perfect.  

Absolutely perfect.  

She was also his close friend's wife. 

He always thought of himself as a gentleman. Sure, he did questionable things and studied under the most questionable woman of Panem during his time at university, but at least he was polite about it. Or at least, he acted in the way one would expect a gentleman to act. 

Kissing your old classmate and close friend's wife is not very gentleman-like. He knows this but when she tangles her hand in his hair the way she does, he can't find it in himself to care.  

“Festus will come find me” she murmured into the kiss. He ignored her and started to kiss his way down her neck. He's not going to acknowledge another man's name coming from her mouth when his mouth is the one making her keen so sweetly. 

She repeated her words and when ignored her once again she gently nudged him back a bit so she could look into his eyes “Coriolanus, you know he can’t catch us. Everything will be ruined” 

He thought he might start laughing. He honestly pities the tree somewhere out there whose single purpose is to replace the oxygen her husband wastes. “Festus Creed does not have the capability of ruining anything for me” 

She hummed and brushed his hair off his face. “Your mood before we came here seemed pretty ruined to me” 

His grip on her waist tightened at the memory of Festus drunkenly clinging to her, embarrassing her, during the entirety of the evening before Coriolanus had cleverly thought of an excuse to whisk her away. 

“Very daring, to take me away from my husband in front of all those people�� she whispers, her hands coming up to rest gently on his shoulders.  “Not at all like you to take that kind of risks” 

He didn't bother responding to that and simply rested his head in the crook of her neck, pulling her body as close as possible to his. She rolled her head to the side, giving him better access as her eyelids fell shut. His nose grazes up and down the length of her neck, breathing her in. 

It had been a long day. His path to becoming Panem's president was set and he was prepared to wait for the perfect moment now that he has the right people on his side. He was not an impatient man, but so close to his goal it was hard not to long for time to speed up just a little bit. 

That's why he'd already been annoyed when he arrived at this fundraiser which must be the 10th this month, and then he had to watch Festus wrap his arms around her. It was just too much.  

When they are together, it's like all the noise is cancelled out and he can finally feel at peace. His mind finally rests and he enjoys when they focus solely on each other and nothing else.  

“Marry me” she murmurs in a voice like honey.  

He's taken aback, pulling away from her to look at her wide-eyed. He hardly noticed anything around him; he felt disorientated, dizzy. His mind worked feverishly. Did she really just ask that? Did he imagine things?  

It takes a moment for him to gather himself enough to answer her. “What?” 

She tilts her head to the side with a grin, linking their hands. “Marry me. You want to become president and you have all it takes to become one except for a wife. People will expect you to have one by the time the campaigning truly starts, and you know no one works a crowd better than me. I have them hanging onto my every word within seconds,” she pulled him down slightly so she could comfortably wrap her arms around his neck “With my family name, and influence, and your talent as a natural leader, combine the two of us and Panem would be yours by the end of the year” 

He stared at the wall on the other side of the room.  

Laying her fingers on his left cheek, she turned his face to look at her. “Just imagine how powerful we could be together as a couple” 

He was imagining it. But... 

“They'd never allow you to divorce Festus” he said with certainty. This he knew for sure. The family name and influence she spoke of would not be as impactful if everyone knew she divorced someone from the Creed family. They'd call her crazy, and steer clear of her.  

“We could not marry unless Festus were dead” 

Her eyes darted between his, her hand cupping his face. She truly was ethereal.  

“I know”  

Her response is entirely too calm and he frowned at her.  

During events he would often watch her socialize and play the crowd just like she said, until they were hanging onto every word that fell past her pretty lips. She always seemed so genuine when she talked to people, but he had caught the glint of ambition in her eyes, just like him.  

She was an impeccable liar without a tell. She could lie to whoever she wanted to. Despite that she tended to be a very honest woman. He knew he would be able to count on her if she was on his side. Her, with her always impeccable appearance and her fashionably styled hair wearing nothing but lavish clothing standing out blindingly, concealing her still very much venomous nature.  Perfect. Absolutely perfect she was.  

Festus was undeserving of a woman like her. He'd always thought it but now he was sure of it. 

He could already picture it. Him, waving down at the crowd with her by his side, the envy of Panem. There would always be people against him and his tendency of making unethical choices. But how could they doubt his leadership if a woman as good as her was married to him? They'd believe she'd keep him on the right path. 

She was working her way to the top, and she was succeeding. So it would only make sense for her to ask him. Festus had his sights set on presidency too, but if she believed Coriolanus had a better chance... Coriolanus tried not to let it get to his head.

Was she insinuating he kill Festus for her? So they could marry and she could become Panem's First Lady? Did she know he'd killed before? If she did, she obviously wasn't bothered by it or scared of him because of it.  

But then there was Festus. Coriolanus didn't particularly like the guy, in fact, seeing Festus trip was the highlight of his day not even a week ago, but could he kill the Creed heir? He had killed before but in this situation it's less trivial. It's not about survival, nor about making it to the top. He was sure he could make it without her...but still... did he want to, without her? Is she not worth it? Is having her by his side worth killing Festus Creed for? 

She's not worth it, he thought and tasted the lie as soon as it crossed his mind. 

He met her eyes and thought of her smile – the smile he can't ever seem to get out of his head – and- 

He was going to kill Festus Creed.  

Memories of Sejanus flashed across his mind. Sejanus had been in the way of him ever returning to the Capitol. So he took choices that haunted him, but he didn't regret. Just like he wouldn't regretting ridding her of her infuriatingly incapable husband.  

Truthfully, Coriolanus was surprised Festus was able to stand with a spine that weak. Always following what others told him to do, never thinking for himself, so easy to manipulate. Yet he saw himself suitable for presidency?

His hands have settled on her waist seemingly out of pure instinct. His throat felt dry, and he swallowed several times before he tried to speak. 

“Yes” he nodded, decision made “Alright” 

Something bright flared in her eyes as she looked at him. After a pause, she practically launched herself at him, knocking into him so hard that he had to take a step back. He laughed quickly. One of his hands is still on her waist, but the other cups the back of her neck as his thumb strokes over her throat.   

She tilted her head up and pecked his lips. Something horrible tugged at his chest, and he knew. There's no one more dangerous in the world than her. Because he's obsessed and in love as she gazed up at him through her lashes. 

The blood was thundering through his brain. Happiness filled his chest; a dizzying sensation and his head swam with emotion. His arm slid around her waist, his hand coming to rest on her hip. 

“Mrs Snow” he whispered like a promise, smoothing his thumb over her cheek.  

"What is it?" she chuckled "Why are you looking at me like that?"  

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, roughly but passionately. 

"You are my worst nightmare and the woman of my dreams all at once" 

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | April 15th-21st 2024

Warning you now that there won't be a recap next week because I'm gonna be on a birthday trip! (hello don't mind me I'm turning 30 this week 🙈). ((now that I think about it I could always post the recap on saturday. oh well. we'll see 😆))

Enjoy!

Complete

i'll fit you inside my future by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (S7E5, BuckTommy | <1K | General): "Why'd you choose that abomination of a coffee for me?" And Buck groans just to hear Tommy laugh. "Really? What even was that?" "Black coffee four sugars," Buck mumbles, kicking a stone across the sidewalk sheepishly. "Jesus, Evan." Tommy's laugh is something special, loud and unrestrained and the sound of sunshine maybe. "Why?"

wild again, beguiled again by Maira/ @mairaiscarrierofthepaperclips (Post-S7E4, BuckTommy | 1K | General): The kiss had taken him out at the knees, a rush of lips and heat and just the barest hint of teeth, the graze of stubble not his own thrilling him in a way like nothing had before. Which was ridiculous, because the kiss hadn’t even been that long. He’d had longer kisses, hotter kisses. Kisses where Buck had very nearly forgotten his own name by the time they’d ended. And yet, this one kiss still had him smiling like a fool. ... or, the one after the kiss.

I gotta get that feeling by elless (Post-S7E5 | 1K | General): Buck watches his mouth as he speaks and the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, and reminds himself to pay attention, because all of this is important. He wants to know everything. OR: what happens at the cafe after Buck's an eager beaver and asks Tommy to be his date at the madney wedding.

The New Normal by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Buck/Tommy/Eddie | 1,7K | General): While he had had a few drinks at the bar, Eddie hadn’t even been tipsy when Buck had blurted out those words: I think I’ve been dating both of you. That statement had settled in the middle of Eddie’s chest and burrowed into its new home, feeling so incredibly right in a way he’d never experienced before. (Part 3 of Buck's Boyfriends)

a good ally by thewolvesof1998/ @thewolvesof1998 (BuckTommy, PWP | 2K | Explicit): Tommy figures out Buck's humiliation kink by accident during sex and they explore it a bit.

everything’s growing in our garden by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S7E5, Pre-Buddie | 2K | Teen): eddie’s growing a garden. buck might be the most firmly planted thing in it.

every part of you (simple as that) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (BuckTommy, Madney Wedding | 2,8K | General): OR: buck comes out to chris, talks to tommy about the future, has realisations about the past and finds a little peace at the wedding

Lactose Intolerance by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Drunken Confessions | 4K | Teen): After last night's tequila shots at the karaoke bar, Buck had just gone home and rolled into his too-big, too-comfortable, too-empty bed in his too-quiet loft, and he’d— Texted Eddie. He thinks. The memory is kind of vague.

Tell Me Anything by AnnaNSmith/ @annansmith (Near Death Experience, Love Confession | 5K | Teen): Or, how Buck shattered Eddie's entire world one night by confessing his love to him.

we don't know where this is going now (don't be afraid of heights, let me open your heart wide) by wikiangela/ @wikiangela (Post-S7E5, Tommy POV | 5K | General): Tommy cuts their first date short, but to his surprise he gets a call from Evan just a few days later.

Despite it all, I'm Happy by InsaneJuliann/ @marvelingjules (Established Buddie, Post-S4, Secret Relationship | 6K | Teen): Something's up with Buck, but he's not telling. No one else even seems to notice all the faked smiles and laughter, not like Eddie does. But he's afraid of pushing too hard. He's happier, lately. Chris, his family, the team - and especially Buck - make him happier than he's been in a long time. Eddie doesn't want to put that all at risk. Not now, while it still feels so new. (Part 12 of The Evolution of Buddie)

Be Yours if You'd be Mine by InsaneJuliann/ @marvelingjules (Established Buddie, Post-S4 | 5K | Mature): Things with Buck are good. Sure, Eddie's pretty sure that some days Buck is still hiding something from him, and sure, their relationship is still a secret to their friends. But there are moments where Eddie can only feel how right it is, Buck in his life, with his family and with Chris. And Eddie may not be able to put a word to the feeling he's been having lately, but he knows that his relationship with Buck isn't going anywhere. At least, Eddie was sure of that until he potentially fucked things up. Now, he's not sure where they stand, precisely. He's not sure if he's what Buck really wants, or if Buck's second guessing. They need to talk. The thing is, talking and vulnerability has never been Eddie's strong suit. (Part 13 of The Evolution of Buddie)

somebody i can kiss by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Christmas, Getting Together, Post-S5 | 7K | Explicit): Buck might be a little touch-starved. And he knew that, but he was not prepared to deal with how the knowledge would interact with his newfound awareness of his crush on—no, realistically, his undying love for Eddie. Because now, whenever he sees Eddie, Buck just wants to shuffle close, bury his face in Eddie’s neck, and hold him. Every second he spends with his best friend, he’s either picturing that, or he’s imagining Eddie’s mouth on his dick, Eddie’s hands on his skin, Eddie’s fingers in his mouth— Anyway. The point is, he should not spend Christmas on a fucking sleepover with Eddie. But he’s gonna.

A Brief Interruption by Leslie_Knope (S7E5 Spec, BuckTommy but Buddie Endgame | 8K | Teen): The restaurant door squeaks again, which Buck ignores, but it’s accompanied by a little noise, just a hitch paired with a small intake of breath, which would be completely unremarkable if not for the fact that Buck has heard that sound a thousand times and would recognize it anywhere. He turns his head, abruptly enough that Tommy’s mouth briefly mashes against his cheek. “Eddie,” Buck says, his voice squeaky and weird. His brain is just pure static, partly from the kiss and partly because Eddie is standing six feet away, eyes wide, staring like he’s never seen him before.

Take These Little Pebbles One by One by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (Post-S7E5, Endgame Buddie | 9K | Teen): Eddie tells Buck nothing will change between the two of them, except it does. He feels Buck quickly slipping away so he starts to steal pieces of him back. Literally. Or, the one where Eddie has a couple of come to Jesus moments courtesy of Christopher and Tommy, a bit of an emotional breakdown, and a lot of feelings about Evan Buckley’s dentist appointments and where his socks belong.

all I want (your eyes on mine) by bigfootsmom/ @bigfootsmom (Buck/Tommy/Eddie, PWP | 10K | Explicit): Buck is lying there, Eddie instantly recognizes the head of honey blond curls resting on the arm of the couch. But the head of short brown curls between Buck’s shaking thighs takes a second longer to place. But then they look up, blue eyes going comically wide as they lock onto Eddie. Tommy Kinard is on Buck’s couch. He’s on Buck’s couch between Buck’s thighs with his lips wrapped around Buck’s cock. The one where Eddie yearns, Buck pines, and Tommy just wants to have a good time.

🔥 give your heart and soul to charity by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Post-S7E5, Sexuality Crisis | 12K | Teen): “It’s been a while since you asked for an emergency session,” Frank says, voice even as always. “Can I ask what brought this on?” “I think I just dumped god,” Eddie says and then he bursts out laughing. He can’t control it, he knows he sounds manic, like he’s somewhere between laughter and a breakdown, edging closer to the breakdown. “Holy shit I did dump god.” “I’m going to need just a little more than that,” Frank says and his face looks torn between concern and amusement. OR Eddie dumps God, gets some more therapy, accepts parts of himself he was taught to hate, loves his best friend, and loves himself.

Buck up, Buttercup by etlagiapet/ @etlagiapet (Canon Divergent, ~S5 | 14K | Mature): “God, you’d probably make a good writer for an advice column. You’re so earnest and optimistic, and you want to help people literally all the time.” Buck blinks at her, frozen with his beer halfway to his lips. His stomach does this thing, an excited little lurch that happens when he gets ahead of himself, but he can’t help it. He clears his throat and manages to ask, “Uh, really?”

Breaking news: LA firefighters in love by AnnaNSmith/ @annansmith (Taylor POV, ~S5, Getting Together | 19K | General): “In an incredible turn of events firefighter Buckley is alive and mostly unharmed. What could have ended in a devastating tragedy finds its happy ending after all. What an absolute relief that firefighter Buckley made it out alive and that we now see-” Taylor turns around, only to come to a stuttering stop at witnessing the spectacle in front of her “-my boyfriend kissing his best friend.” Or, Taylor gets a second shot at accompanying the 118 for another segment and notices that her boyfriend is a lot closer to his best friend than she remembers.

🔥 drink the river dry by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Post Shooting, Getting Together | 32K | Explicit): It wasn’t until they were discussing his discharge paperwork and painkiller schedules that it really sunk in for Eddie that Buck would be staying with him and Christopher. That he would be around 24/7 except for his shifts at work. That he’ll sleep on the couch, where he’s been sleeping for days now to look after Christopher. The worst part is that it’s necessary—Eddie isn’t going to be able to do a damn thing for himself for the next couple of weeks. He’s lucky if he can put a shirt on by himself a month from now. Yeah, that’s going to be a problem. Or: Eddie gets shot, breaks up with his girlfriend, and pines like there’s no tomorrow.

🔥 The Heart Opening Sequence by Leslie_Knope (Post-S3, Getting Together | 34K | Mature): Eddie’s handsome, that’s obvious, Buck clocked that the second he met him. Part of him still can’t really believe that the guy he was so threatened by at first ended up as his closest friend, which is why these weird twinges are so unsettling. Buck isn’t sure if they’re real, for one, these odd flashes of what it would be like to lean over and kiss Eddie while they’re watching a movie or brush a hand over his back while they’re in the kitchen. And for two, it’s so far out of the realm of possibility that it’s barely worth thinking about.

🔥 everything (nothing) has changed by bizarrestars (Post-S4, Love Confessions | 48K | Explicit): After Eddie gets shot, Buck confesses his love. From there, things get a little out of hand.

🔥 let it pour out of your soul series by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Magical Realism AU, Witch Eddie | 3 works | 71K | Complete):

collectively unconsciously composed (S4E6: Jinx | 46K | Explicit): Or: in which the author re-watched Buck Begins and Jinx and thought: what if this was gayer and had actual magic?

that systematic drug (PWP | 5K | Explicit): Eddie’s mouth goes dry when he opens the door and sees Buck. He’s clean-shaven and with his hair carefully styled back, smiling at Eddie sweetly and a little teasingly. Buck is wearing his dark jeans and his light blue v-neck polo shirt, the one that’s tight enough that it shows off the bulge of his biceps and the definition of his pecs and abs. Eddie knows this shirt. Buck's favourite, because he knows he looks good in it.

something binding us together (Established Buddie | 20K | Teen): Or: Eddie plans a long-avoided visit to his parents, discovers some things about his magic, and begins to build his family a home in LA's witching community.

Podfic

🔥 [podfic] tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) by Matriaya // fic by @chronicowboy (Post-S6, Time Loop | 5-6h | Mature): "Think I can get a hug from my best man on my wedding day?" he asks, quietly hopeful in a way that makes Eddie want to tear off his skin. "Sure," Chris replies with a shrug, turning to throw Eddie a cheeky grin. "Dad, Buck needs a hug." (OR: eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia)

🔥 my certainty is wild, weaving [Podfic] by blackglass/ @blackestglitter for tuckergreeen/ @henwilsonmd (Post-S5A, Hurt Buck | 45-60min | Teen): “Eddie,” Carla says softly. “You could have called. We would’ve met you at the hospital.” He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t—uh. I didn’t go to the hospital.” He feels the way Carla’s hand goes still. “Eddie.” It’s not nearly as soft-spoken this time. “You didn’t go see him? Or Chim? Your team?” “They’re not my team,” Eddie says, almost without thinking. He winces as soon as the words are out. Or: Buck is hurt, Eddie is worried, and everything is broken.

[podfic] i was supposed to sweat you out (i think there's been a glitch) by half_bakedboy/@half-bakedboy // fic by @loserdiaz (Canon Divergent, Fire Academy | 45-60min | Explicit): "What's your problem, man?" "You. You're my fucking problem, Diaz." There were a lot of problems with Eddie Diaz, if you ask Buck. The guy is obnoxiously good at everything without even trying, he's too perfect, too confident. And the biggest problem of them all: Eddie's an attractive asshole that features more often than not in Buck's filthiest dreams. or; The Buck and Eddie meet at the fire academy, rivals to lovers fic.

🔥 Like Any Unloved Thing [Podfic] by ReformedTsunderePodfics/ @film-in-my-soul // fic by @hmslusitania (Urban Fantasy/Noir AU, PI Eddie, Ghost Buck | 1.5-2h | Mature): After the war, Eddie Diaz opened his own private investigation business here in LA and usually he does alright for himself. But this case, the one with the Buckley siblings, is going to crawl under his skin and stay there. It's going to change his life. He has no idea how.

[Podfic] If I Risk It All (Could You Break My Fall?) by liketherestofla, MistMarauder/@gracieryder for Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (James Bond AU | 4.5-5h | Explicit): “This is Buck,” Bobby said when Buck’s tongue refused to unstick from the top of his mouth. “Your new quartermaster.” Eddie’s eyes— brown with just a glint of green if you caught them in the right light— widened before he scanned Buck with another sweeping assessment. “You’re—” Buck had heard it all before. “Not all of us nerds are the skinny kids that used to get picked on in high school.”

🔥 Hot Ghost Problems by ebjameston [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314 // fic by @ebjameston (Canon Divergent, S2, Ghost Buck, Witch Eddie | 5-6h | Teen): Eddie is the newest firefighter at the 118. Buck is the ghost haunting the 118. Unfortunately for both of them, Eddie's also a witch and needs to put Buck's spirit to rest, because that's what witches do. Turns out, Buck's spirit? Super not interested in being put to rest. Very interested, however, in flirting with Firefighter Diaz, who is just trying to survive his candidate year. (Also turns out, Buck? Super not dead.)

WIP

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @dangerpronebuddie (Prompt collection | 30/? | 19K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

30. 70. what if i told you none of it was accidental: An accidental kiss that confuses you both, but only a moment passes before you crash your lips back against each other's

What’s Your Order? by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Post-S7E5, BuckTommy | 3/6 | 6K | Teen): 5 Times Buck Guessed Tommy’s Coffee Order + 1 Time He Didn’t Have To

🔥 Cowboy With a One Track Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergence, Not A Firefighter Buck | 2/4 | 11K | Mature): Spin-off Sequel to Evan Buckley & the Coma-Verse of Madness - Chapter 7 (Land): Grieving and tortured, Evan Buckley has been living alone in Montana in a remote cabin for nearly a decade. After an incident that leaves him missing six months of his life, and suddenly in connection with a group of strangers from Los Angeles, Evan must decide whether to remain in his self-imposed exile, or take a chance at life again.

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 9/18 | 49K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

[colddelusionsheep]

So, this is my start of yandere hunger games, and before y'all read this. There are some things to take note of.

Everyone romantic (and y/n) is 18 or older. I am not going to mention age unless the story requires it.

This is going to be ocs x reader, and it will be based on the hunger games(with some differences.

The reader will also be fem.

And that is it! I hope you enjoy, and if you do, feel free to like and reblog(dni if you are under 18 tho)

2nd Part

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

The reaping

Humming softly, you buttoned up the last two buttons on your dress. The light green was worn with a few stitched up parts where the fabric use to be ripped. It was old and has seen better days, but even with those details, it still was the nicest thing you owned.

You hoped you could wear it again someday. A wish that you had each year during the reaping, and so far it came true each time. People would comment on how lucky you were to avoid the reaping each time. Weeping love ones of the reaped would curse your name and say you somehow cheated to save your own skin.

You don't blame them. With how many times you have sold your name to this game that is hell. You should of been reaped a long time ago.

Even you didn't know how your name wasn't pulled. The suppose luck that people would attribute to your was no where to been seen on any other day of the year. It was only on this one. However, if it was seen on any other day then maybe you wouldn't be so closed to starving each day.

Reaching down, you pulled your worn socks to your knees. Patches were half hazerdly stitched onto them. Soon you would need new socks and shoes for the winter. You would have to decide on which. Shoes seemed to be the priority in your mind. What good were socks without shoes anyway.

Giving one last look in your mirror. You let out a deep sigh. All you had to do is survive one more time. Then you would be forever free of this life. Once you were free from the reaping, maybe you would finally be accepted in district 12.

The walk to the town square was always a silent one. Each person was getting ready to die. You always thought that the suspense was the worst thing about this. The knowledge that it could be you was nerve wracking to say the least.

Passing by one of your neighbors, you could Hear them mutter under their breath. "I hope it's you."

The rumors you got use to, it was just part of your everyday life by now. Being the outcast was a role you took with stride. What you didn't get use to was the fact that many of those that live close to you wished you dead.

Just like they wished your parents dead, and it was a wish they got. Maybe they would get this wish also.

The check ins went by like a blur. A yearly routine that you would never have to do again. There was peace in that thought, and that peace would surely give you the strength to make it through this. No matter how false it may be.

Taking place behind Susie Mack, you took note of how nice her dress was. The blue color complemented her bright red hair. She even had matching blue ribbons in her two braids.

Late at night, you liked to imagine what it was like to be her, to be Susie Mack. Almost everyone loved her. She was bright and cheerful. You supposed it was easy to be bright and cheerful when you had a full stomach and a loving family. What you would give to be her. To be loved and beautiful. To not have to worry on whether you would have shoes for the winter or food in your stomach.

You hoped that she wouldn't be reaped, simply for the fact that you knew if she was. Then the entire district would come for you. You don't want to imagine how they would punish you this time.

The escort of the Capital made his appearance, and just like every year. His fashion sense was..... lacking.

A mix of fine fabrics made up his outfit, along with a mix of patterns. You were sure that his clothes had every color known to man. Diamonds littered his neck on their choker that they wore.

You couldn't imagine that he were comfortable. Tight and stiff silhouettes seemed to be the main trend in the Capital this year.

As the escort made the same speech that they did every year. You could feel the anxiety of the crowd. It was getting close to the pulling of the names.

You could practically feel the heart beating of each person here. Looking around, you could even see some of the younger ones silently crying.

The two large crystal vessels were brought out. Each full of names. If you did your math right, yours should be in there 80 times.

"Now, as always, ladies first." You never noticed how gentle his voice was. It reminded of the stream your parents use to take you too. The sound of the water would always make sooth you matter how upset you may of been. It was just too bad that that stream turned into a raging river.

"Our female tribute is." He, as always, paused for dramatic effect. " --/n"

Ringing, that's all you could hear, it wasn't till someone shook you that you could fully understand what was said. It wasn't till the peacekeepers roughly pulled you out of your spot that you understood that your wish was finally ignored. It wasn't till the dammed Capital escort kissed your cheek, and spoke of how lucky you were that you understood that luck was just a lie. That the odds were and would never be in your favor.

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

And the 1st part of the yandere hunger games is done! Hopefully I will have the next part soon. I did write this part very late at night so the are probably mistakes but that is okay.

Also, sorry I was gone so long, school really took everything happy that was in me away. Good news tho, I am graduated!. My blog is going to be open to asks and all, but for right now requests are going to be closed untill I feel more confident in my writing. It should be a lot more active now however!

That's all for right now! Love y'all <3

[nyrasbloodyclover]

hypnotic (kai anderson x reader)

cw: breeding kink, eating disorder (it's really really bad), mommy issues, mentions of suicide, parental abuse, cults, kai is his own warning really, murder, overstimulation

a/n: if you're not into this pleaseeeee leaveeeeee i don't want tumblr to delete my blog again. also you can read this fic on ao3 if you'd like, link is in my pinned post. and if, by any chance, you relate to this i am so sorry.

What I wanted right now, was to get out of my house, go anywhere, just so I could stop listening to constant fighting and screaming from my parents. I couldn't bear it anymore. I had one year until college but it seemed impossible to survive that long. 

"Oh, look who locked herself in her room!" My mother bursted in and a pit started forming in my stomach. I didn't move. "When are you going to start being useful? You're in here all the time, you could start paying rent." 

Now, what was I supposed to say to that? If I told her that the reason I spent all my time in my room was because they wouldn't stop screaming at each other and I would just be their punching bag, she wouldn't listen and the situation would only get worse.

"Or maybe it's time for you to find a job. Now you're just living like a parasite." I stared. My mother was a very complex character. I think she would be capable of pulling Gone Girl on us. She has the mentality. Just saying.

My father on the other hand, he's weak. Or she made him weak. I don't remember the last time he stood up for himself. He's tired, I can see that clearly. I just wish they would get a divorce. It's so draining to wake up everyday and live in fear that your every move is going to be a mistake, something to criticize. 

I don't remember the last time I felt truly at peace, but I could afford myself distractions. That's how I ended up scrolling through Tumblr 12 hours per day and forgetting to eat because the skinny girls I came across were just so pretty. Food was my enemy. We couldn't stand each other. And the guilt simply because of eating was the worst feeling ever.

Empty is pretty. And I wanted to look pretty, so I starved. It was my sport. It still is. The joy of seeing my hipbones and ribs after some time was indescribable. I loved to lay awake at night and touch my bones, feel them as I tried to fall asleep. Of course, there were many times when I just couldn't take it anymore and I binged. I would regret it immediately and restrict even more.

"Alright. I'll find a job." I stared at her with empty eyes. I was dizzy, almost like I got drunk. She exited the room and slammed the doors behing her. I think I'm never going to fully understand her.

I stared at my ceiling, having no energy to move, even though I had unfinished assignments hanging above my head, screaming at me to do them, but I just wanted to sleep. School can wait. I think my red lipstick was smudged, but I had no energy to take it off. My hair was a mess, too. I tried to straighten it but my natural waves were too stubborn. I fell asleep.

A week passed. My life stayed the same except for my new job at the restaurant—The Butchery On Main.

The two sweet women who own it were kind enough to let me work even though they don't employ people under eighteen. I worked mostly after my school, until the closing. I didn't mind since I got to leave the house and get a break from my parents. 

People were nice, I took their orders, served their food. The restuarant was mostly empty during my shifts, but nonetheless it was almost hard, working with food. All those calories around me made me want to puke. And I wasn't much of a puker. I had the urge to binge. It was disgusting. But I wasn't going to throw all my work out of the window just like that. 

I had my diet coke and if I got hungry Ivy said that I could eat whatever I wanted, and I wanted cucumber. With pepper. They had those.

Today, I had much free time so I was just sitting at one of the tables and doing my homework while scrolling through Tumblr and eating freshly peeled cucumber with some seasoning on top. I was thriving. I was almost happy. It seemed impossible.

The door opened. A man walked in. He was dressed in black from head to toe and what stood out the most was his blue hair with grown out roots. He walked like he owned the building and everyone in it. I immediately stood up, while he was pulling out his chair, fixing my uniform. I let him read through the menu for a couple of seconds and then decided to approach.

"What would you like to order?" I smiled. I was nice. I am always nice. Why hasn't he looked at me yet? Why is he ignoring my presence? His head was bowed down until he raised it and I was met with black pools that stared at me, or rather through me. I felt dizzy and it wasn't the diet.

"Surprise me," he cocked his head, "I would love to see what you liberals like to eat the most. Maybe it'll make me change my political views."

"Al..right," I dragged on, "Is that all?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Everything will be done in a minute." I wanted to get away from him, as soon as possible. He was probably some Trump obsessed republican who's most likely to tell me to make him a sandwich. Which I am practically doing right now. But I couldn't deny it - He had a beautiful face. I wouldn't consider him that attractive if it weren't for his dead, piercing eyes that silently commanded you to obey every one of his rules. 

The food was ready. I had a feeling I would fall on my face next time I locked my eyes with his, which wasn't good. I didn't even know his name! Rachel, one of the cooks, handed me the best steak they had, house's special, "Who is it for?"

I didn't dare look at him. "The one with the blue hair. Just please don't stare. He's creeping me out."

Her eyes went wide, "That's Kai Anderson."

I looked at her blandly. The name didn't mean anything to me.

"You seriously need to watch more television."

"I'm fine, thanks. And if he's some menatlly deranged politician, then I'm not really missing out."

All the politics drained me, and don't get me wrong, I loved to be informed, but when I had to argue with someone about basic human rights, I'd rather not know anything.

I walked over to his table, and put the food on it. "I hope you're not vegan. Either way, enjoy your food." I kept my eyes everywhere, just not on him. He was so unsettling. I had to get away.

"I certainly will," he said and I walked away without a second glance. Jesus Christ, his mere presence was intense.

My shift ended in half an hour and that's when the restaurant was supposed to close. Ivy left early because of some family emergency, so she asked me to close and lock everything for her. I changed into my regular clothes—denim skirt and a white button down with my favorite black sweater, docs and a pair of knee socks. I untangled my hair and tried to brush it out with my fingers.

The tables were empty. Well, mostly. So-called Kai Anderson was still here, not even eating, just looking at some papers and flipping them over, for a while now.

I needed some extra balls to approach him and ask him to leave. Why did I accept to be the last one here? I could've been home by now, sleeping or watching a sitcom, but instead I'm stuck in this building with the strangest and the scariest man I've ever met. But then again, If I were home, my mother would be screaming at me. So I guess it's a win? Also I had to thank Kai for occupying my mind and not letting me think about food. I seriously needed to go to bed before I ended up eating something. Or worse- binging. I think I had less than 200 calories today which is a sign that I am slowly approaching danger zone. It isn't a diet anymore. I can't eat normally. I thought I could go back, but I guess my body won't let me. Or was it my mind?

"Miss?" Someone waved before my eyes.

"Yes? Sorry." Kai was standing beside the table that I occupied. 

"Are you closing soon?"

Should I lie? But then again, he isn't stupid. "Yes. Do you want to pay?"

"Oh no. I already did. I just wondered what occupied your mind that much." He had no idea.

"Nothing much. Just tired I guess. Can't seem to balance school and work."

"Ah. You see," he sat across me, "I don't believe you."

"Okay? I didn't try to be persuasive."

He smirked. Dear God, why was he so creepy but so hot at the same time?

"I still want to know what made you zone out for that long." Has he been staring at me the whole time?

"That's creepy. I don't even know you."

"What's that got to do with anything? I just asked you to tell me what's been botherung you. You looked fucking stressed."

"It really doesn't matter." I just wanted him to leave. 

"Wait. Here, I'll give you..." he reached into his  back pocket, "Fifty bucks if you tell me."

My lips curved. Come on, you can't blame me. Extra cash at my age isn't something you just don't accept.

"Ah! I knew it," he smiled, "Come on, doll, speak."

"It isn't anything interesting. My mom is just being a bitch, nothing unusual." I gave him the least I could and snatched the cash from his hand.

"She isn't letting you sleep over at your boyfriend's or something?" He laughed like I had the dumbest reason for not liking my mother.

"Not really. She just...Wants too much, I guess? And I'm not able to give her that." It felt weird saying that out loud. I think I never said it.

He stared at me for a second.

"I want to show you a trick." He put his right hand on the table. "Don't worry. It's something me and my older brother always used to do when we were little."

He reached with his pinky finger over to my hand. We locked fingers like we were making a pinky promise. 

"This is weird. And please hurry. My shift ends in fifteen minutes." 

"We have enough time. Okay, listen. Pinky power. Once the skin contact is made, no lies can be told and whatever we say, stays between us," he narrowed his black eyes, "Trust me, if you lie, I will know. Ready?"

When did I agree to this? Well, fuck it, I'll do it anyway.

"Do you love your family?" He asked, his expression serious.

"Yes." His mouth twitched.

"Do you like your family?"

"Absolutely not." I shook my head.

"Why is that?" 

How do I explain this to him without sounding like a total maniac? "My father is weak, he doesn't know how to stand up for himself. And my mother screams at me for merely existing. Her favorite hobby is emotionally draining me, then pulling my hair or slapping me because she feels like it. She regrets having me. I think she wants me to kill myself. It would be easier to have a dead daughter." My mind went blank. I felt nothing in that moment. Whatever he asked, I was going to tell him.

"Did you ever try to kill yourself?," he asked with a flat voice.

I thought for a second. Should I tell him the whole truth? He said he's going to know if I lie, but that doesn't mean...

"Don't think too much." His eyes went dark while I was literally choking under pressure of his gaze.

"No. I was never suicidal. I like living. But I..." words were stuck in my throat, "I...Sometimes, she would starve me. Saying I didn't deserve it. I had no money to buy something to eat. So I made a game out of it. I developed a disorder. It was the only thing I had some control over. I started it out of spite, but now it's real. It's worse than ever. But I don't want to stop."

His expression never changed. Not once. "Do you hate your mother for that?"

"You have no idea."

"I think I do have some idea about hating one of your parents. So, from experience, I need to ask you one more question."

I nodded. "Have you ever dreamt about killing her?"

I wanted to pull back from him, but his hand wouldn't let me. He pulled me even closer. "We can't break the contact," he gritted through his teeth.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," I exhaled, "Yes. And no."

"Elaborate." 

The restuarant was silent. I couldn't even hear the sound of cars outside. Lights were practically out. 

"I...I wanted her dead. But I don't think I would be able to do it. I had a," I inhaled, "A fantasy about someone killing her while I watched. It's so fucked up, but I just couldn't help it. It brought me relief that she was gone and someone cared enough to get rid of her for me." 

I was scared to look at him. He was going to call the mental ward and lock me there. I was fucked. Why did I tell him all of that? 

I looked up.

He was smiling. It wasn't a sympathetic smile, or a sad smile, or anything similar to that. He was grinning like a maniac. He released my hand and I realized my eyes were filled with tears. I blinked them away. 

He shook his head with closed eyes, "You're perfect. Perfect."

My voice was low, weak. "What? How could you think that after what I just told you?"

"Don't ask too many questions. I have a solution for you because I know you're destined for greater things. Tell me, do you wish to never be under your mother's thumb again?"

"I mean, yes? That's going to be when I turn eighteen, so I have to be patient."

He laughed. "Oh, no, baby, no. She's never going to let you go. She'll suffocate you until there is nothing left but a shell. No matter the age or what the law says, you'll always be controlled. While she's alive, at least."

"What are you saying?"

"Do you want my help? Do you wish to be finally free?"

This was so fucked up. I never met this man in my life. Why was he offering me help?

"What's in it for you?"

He cocked his head, "I get to keep you by my side."

My mouth was dry. I was scared, but...excited. Thrill rushed down my body as this psychopath was staring at me, offering me a sick escape. I was supposed to say no. I was supposed to save my soul.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"I want your help."

He looked so happy, it made me happy.

"Good. Then, we're leaving now." I was hypnotized by him. I just nodded, not asking where or why, my mother taught me I shouldn't get in the cars with strangers, especially men, but my mother was also the reason for many of my problems. I'll do something that'll piss her off.

I got into Kai's car and shut the door. I was okay with the fact that he might end up killing me.

He said nothing for the most of the ride, but I noticed him glancing over at my skirt that rose up to my thighs. I didn't bother pulling it down. I mean, I wore mini skirts for a reason, right?

I pretended not to notice as I looked at my reflection in the closed window. Hollow cheeks, red lipstick, pale face. I was obsessed. I always wanted to look like a corpse with make up. My face was perfect, lipstick untouched, mascara a little smudged, dark circles under my eyes from sleepless nights. 

"You know you could eat a burger." I looked at him. I almost wanted to hug him. His words made me feel proud, like I achieved something big. And I guess I did.

"Really? Do you know that you're the first person ever to tell me that?" I felt weird happiness in my chest. 

"Well, yeah. Why do you look so surprised? I didn't mean it as a compliment. You have a problem. I'm not even sure it's supposed to be a compliment." He frowned, not taking his eyes off the road.

"It doesn't matter if it's supposed to be a compliment or not. Thank you for saying it." I didn't give two fucks if he thought I was some anorexic lunatic that needed years of therapy. I was happy. And he wasn't my parent or my guardian to tell me what to do.

"Just think about it. What's the point of being so skinny? It's not even attractive."

"The point is in being clean. I don't want to see a pound of fat on my body. It's disgusting. And I am to do with my body as I please. I don't give a fuck if someone likes to eat like a fucking pig because It's not my body, and certainly not my problem." I was so angry. Who the fuck he thought he was?

"Just saying. You look sick. And I mean really, really sick."

"I am aware. Like I'm also aware that I'm fucked in the head. And that's the reason for all of this," I gestured over my figure. 

I could feel his anger. He didn't like that I disagreed with him and stood up for myself, even if I was wrong.

"We're here." He suddenly said, getting out of the car. I followed him into the house I guessed was his. The whole neighborhood was silent. Lights were off everywhere. 

We got into his house and I didn't even got to see it clearly because he practically dragged me into his basement and started changing. He put on a black leather coat while looking for something. His phone? He called someone.

"I'm expecting you'll be here in five? Well don't try to make up excuses. This is a perfect opportunity. I don't care— No, drag yourself and your pathetic wife here." He called two more people and I just stood in the middle of the room staring at him. 

"What's your adress?" Was he really doing that now? "You know what, never mind. I found it." I wasn't going to ask him how. He looked like the person who instead of Instagram browsed dark web. 

"Okay, let's go. They're here." I had to ask him because he said nothing about it. I had to be sure.

"Why are we going to my house?"

Beat. A moment. "To kill your mother, of course."

There were other people with us, but I couldn't see their faces because of the creepy clown masks. Kai had one too. I felt like I was drugged. I didn't know what happened to me. I suppose I had enough. I know Kai is not the answer for my problems, at least not all of them. He's going to get rid of her and then what? No. Stop thinking. 

I listened to my brain this time. It was late. My parents were probably asleep. Probably in separate beds. It's going to be easier for Kai and the others to do the job. They kept their mouths shut and I didn't blame them. I still wasn't sure if I was part of this sick cult or whatever it was. I read enough about them to recognize a cult leader when I see one. 

The car suddenly stopped. We were in front of my house.

"This played out so good, little lamb. I knew you were perfect." Kai's voice was muffled under that mask and his words made my heart flutter. He was so sick. "Don't just stand there, baby. Be a good host. Invite us in. Come on," he gestured with one gloved hand towards my house. I felt everyone's eyes on me as I turned my back and started walking towards the door. What did he mean by this playing out good? Did he plan this before? It certainly did not matter.

We got in, doors creaking, but not enough to wake anyone up. My father was downstairs, in the guestroom, but my Satanic mother was in their bedroom. I went first, up the stairs, one by one, they followed me, Kai first, then the rest of them. 

I showed them the doors. 

Kai got in and they followed him. I shut the door behind me. I felt like I was seeing things through someone else's eyes. I didn't feel guilt and I wasn't regretting my decision. I remember everything through a coat of blur. Knives, a lot of them. They killed her in her sleep. Stabbed her too many times, I lost count. Sheets were soaked with red and the room started smelling like iron too. Kai used her blood to draw some sign on the wall that was facing the bed. It looked like a smiley face, but I wasn't sure. The job was done. I was free. I was free of any charges, since I wasn't home when it happened. I was going to sleep in my bed and wake up in the morning, shocked, petrified, screaming for help, calling the police, my father is going to be terrified too, but relieved. He would never admit it thought. 

We were in the car again. Then in front of Kai's house. "Leave. I want some time alone with our newest member."

"Kai, no. You can't drag her into this. She's just a child—" A feminine voice scorned him under her mask.

"Don't tell me what to do, Winter. Now leave," he raised his voice and I flinched. "We have much to talk about." He took off his mask and smiled knowingly at me. I wasn't scared of him anymore, though I knew I should be. He killed my mother for Christ's sake! 

We went into his basement again. The lights were already on and I watched him as he took off his mask and black coat. His shirt was soaked with my mother's blood. 

"What did you want to talk about?" I cocked my head.

"You were so good. I knew you could do it. Next time, maybe you'll even be the one holding the knife. You didn't even flinch!" He paced through the room and laughed, like he was talking to himself.

"You didn't do this for me, did you?"

He stopped, then looked at me, "I already told you. This played out perfectly. And I've been watching for quite some time now," his eyes darkened "When I found out that the woman who's been talking shit about me over her social media had a daughter, I had to see if she was as bitchy as her mother." Oh, so he did this to save his reputation. Of course.

"And," I swallowed, "Is she?"

He didn't answer me. Instead he marched to the other side of the room and pushed me against the wall, slamming his lips on mine. I was out of breath, not being able to process everything. Oh my god, he was kissing me! This insane, sick in the head, narcissistic, 30-something, psychopath was kissing me and I opened my mouth to him like the whore I was. I wanted him to touch me. No, I needed his blood stained hands on me right now. 

I pulled one of his hands and put it on my chest as his tongue continued to explore my mouth. He took off my sweater and shirt. I was left in a black bra and skirt.

"Aren't you scared of being arrested for fucking a minor?"

"I commited far more monstrous crimes than fucking a seventeen year old and you know it, " he breathed into my mouth. Red lipstick was smudged over his lips. His hand that was on my chest slipped under my skirt and found my panties. 

"You know it," his fingers entered me with ease, "And yet, you're still so fucking wet for me." My mouth fell open as he buried his fingers deeper if that was even possible. I wasn't a virgin, but then again, I've never been with a man. I took my own virginity so that I didn't have to bother. 

"Kai—" I breathed. I needed more.

He sat on one of the chairs beside the circular table and pulled me onto his lap, his thigh between my legs. My clit was aching for some king of friction so I started rubbing myself against the rough fabric of his jeans. 

"Aren't you desperate?" He pushed me on the floor, between his legs, he pulled out his belt and unzipped his pants. His intentions were clear and I was happy to oblige, but I had to touch myself or I'd go insane. I started stroking his already hard dick and rubbing my clit at the same time. 

He noticed. And he wasn't happy about it. "I thought you were going to be patient. But I guess not." He took his belt and with one move he tied my hands behind my back while I was still kneeling in front of him.

"Please, I just need to—"

"Yes, yes, I know, but you have to deserve it. Am I right?"

I nodded hesitantly and he scooped up my hair in his fist and used it to pull my head down. I took him into my mouth as the wetness and ache grew between my legs. 

Kai continued to pull my head down until his tip hit the back of my throat and I gagged. He chuckled.

My eyes teared up as I sucked his dick like my life depended on it.

He grunted and raised his hips, so I knew he was close. And I knew he was going to either come in my mouth or...

He pulled out and finished on my tits, painting my chest with his cum. 

"You were so good," he said with his head tilted back and eyes closed. He let my hair fall down my back and over my face. Kai dressed and got up, then pulled me with him, still tied.

He slammed me on the desk and I was able to just lay there and let him do whatever he wanted to me. Not that I minded.

"I feel like I'm going to break you," he said as he traced my very visible ribs with the tips of his fingers. "Break every bone in your body." 

I could feel my stomach sinking in and his words made me even a bigger mess than I already was. "Do it, please, please," I cried out as my hips rose towards him. 

"Since you asked so nicely...And the skirt stays on. Do you know how much willpower it took me not to bury my hand under your skirt and make you beg for more while we were driving?" He pulled my skirt up and didn't even bother to take off the panties, he just ripped them. He towered over me as I layed on his table, feeling the cool air on my swollen clit. 

Kai's fingers went over my aching pussy and my back arched towards his touch. He did nothing for a split second and then came the first slap. I yelped as the burning spread between my legs, but I didn't tell him to stop. He slapped me even harder and I cried out, most ungodly sounds coming from my mouth.

"Don't worry, you can scream as loud as you'd like."

He slapped my dripping cunt once more and after that I was sure I was going to feel his hands on me days after. He didn't wait for me to recover from his brutality, instead he buried two fingers inside me and started scissoring, wanting to spread me even wider. I threw my head back as he added one more. He buried them knuckle deep inside me and began curling them.

"I feel like you're a big girl. You can take one more." He didn't wait for my agreement. His four fingers were inside, making my pussy burn with pleasure. I wasn't able to form words. He spat on me and started massaging my clit while almost his whole hand was thrusting in and out of me. I felt pressure deep in my lower stomach and started panting and moaning for him to continue, but he did exactly the opposite. 

My cunt was left empty without his fingers and I could almost cry. I just needed a bit more.

"Don't look so upset. I'm not finished with you." 

Kai untied me and took his belt. He spread my legs as wide as he could and started spanking my pussy with it. I screamed more in pain than surprise, "Kai, no, stop, please stop-"

The pain was unbearable, but it was just enough  for my clit to start pulsing more and that pressure in my belly to grow. I screamed in pain as he continued to hit me with no mercy. I could feel my walls clenching and my back arched as I came undone. Orgasm hit me and I came down from my high, but Kai didn't stop. 

He started rubbing my abused cunt, overstimulating it. He was deaf to my begging and crying. It was too much. There was no pleasure anymore, just pure pain, but he continued to massage it and after a couple of minutes I was shaking with another orgasm. I knew I was too sensitive, but when I tried to close my legs, he stopped me. Then I noticed his rock hard dick under his jeans and my heart dropped. I was going to pass out. He was going to use me, not caring for my pleasure anymore.

"Just hold still a little more, doll." He pulled his dick out and slammed himself inside me, making my eyes roll to the back of my head. Everything hurt, but he didn't care. His thrusts were fast and rough, I couldn't keep up. I could feel his orgasm building and he had no intention of pulling out. Kai continued to slam into me until he reached his peak. He filled me with his seed and when he finally pulled out I could feel it dripping from my pussy.

Kai helped me get up and as he was untying his belt, his hot breath was on my neck. "Welcome to the cult, baby."

[ms-m-astrologer]

The Shadow of the Eclipse

Sunday, September 8, 02:34 UT - Saturday, October 5, 18:49 UT, 2024

The shadow of the eclipse is a time period beginning ten days before the first eclipse of a series, and ending three days after the final eclipse. It’s recommended that people not start new projects or schedule important things during these shadows, as the eclipse energies -if they don’t outright doom the endeavor - can give the process some very dramatic twists and turns.

In Secrets from a Stargazer’s Notebook, astrologer Debbi Kempton-Smith explained:

Those old eclipses will stir you up, all right. All sorts of feelings leap out of you. And if you regard an eclipse as a period of instability where new attitudes come up into view, you’ll find they’re wonderful for getting rid of old muck inside you.

The trick is not to act more than necessary when an eclipse is operating. It may be necessary to act more than you would during normal times because of outside changes, but do not do more than you must. People are stirred up now.

For an eclipse to have a strong personal effect, it really has to be at the exact degree of a placement - and conjunct that placement - even then, it doesn’t always “do” much. They’re a little like the Lunar Nodes in such seemingly capricious effects - now they zap you, now they don’t.

A couple of things to keep in mind: first, the upcoming eclipse is on the lunar South Node, which strongly emphasizes “getting rid of old muck inside you.” There is a sense that the more problematic Libra behaviors (manipulation, peace-keeping when we should be fighting, etc.) need to stop. There’s also a sense that we’ve “hit max level” in the more positive Libra traits (diplomacy, aesthetics, etc.) and can make no more progress. If we need to learn and grow, we need to direct that to the Aries experience.

The second thing: solar eclipses run in what are called Saros Cycles. They repeat in cycles of 18 years, 10-12 days, 8 hours. They can be grouped into families, Saros Series. This upcoming solar eclipse, at 10°04’ Libra, is part of S.S. 8 South. (Remember, it’s on the lunar South Node.)

Astrologer Bernadette Brady, in The Eagle and the Lark, has an appendix devoted to brief delineations of each Saros Series. Some of them are beneficial, but others - like S.S. 8 South - are not:

Separation and loss. To be parted. To finish something, and to feel sad at its completion. Physical energy is also possible through over-straining one’s strength. This is not the time to undertake strenuous physical activities.

Ugh. Previous eclipses in this series (for those of us old enough to remember what happened!) were in

2006 (29°20’ Virgo)

1988 (18°40’ Virgo)

1970 (8°04’ Virgo)

This shadow involves some pretty icky stuff - maybe. You may not be personally affected at all, particularly if you don’t have a placement at 10°+ Libra. Be sensitive to and cautious about what’s happening around you, don’t overdo anything, and be ready to rid yourself of some useless baggage if the opportunity arises.

[riahlynn101]

FNAF Movie 2 Theory - The BTS Photograph.

For those that care, Mimic Wednesdays will continue next week. It’s only my third week back to school, and it’s already kicking my ass. 

Spoiler warnings - most of this is simple speculation, but I’m also using casting calls and that BTS photo Scott gave us a few days back. 

Today I want to analyze this photo. I’m going to lay out the reasonable evidence first, then I’ll go into my usual rambling speculation. 

I don’t think this photo is of young William Afton. 

While it’s hard finding the definitive date when colored photos took over black-and-white photos, it happened sometime in the late-60s - early-70s. Colored photos had been available for decades before that, but that’s when most, everyday, people started using color in their photographs. 

William is in his 30s in the 1980s (if the casting call is anything to go by). If I’m being generous, I’d put his age at 30 in 1980 (for simplicity’s sake). 

This means he was born in 1950. 

The (very blurry) photo looks to be of a young boy. The age of the boy is hard to determine, but he can’t be any older than eight. 

I’ve tried to play around with the photo to see if I could catch any noticeable features, but it’s way too blurry and out of focus. 

While it wouldn’t be a stretch that it’s of William, the quality of the photograph suggests it was taken not in the 50s. This, of course, could be wrong, but for now I’m assuming it’s not of William. 

What do we know about this photo?

It’s (likely) of a boy. 

It’s (likely) a child, judging by how young they look. 

The boy has dark brown hair (we’re coming back to that). 

It’s hard to make a judgment about the boy’s eye color, but I think they might be brown. 

The photo is located in (assumingly) the Afton household. Actually, it seems to be off to the side, with one other photo. 

Speculation time!

The bite of 80-something. 

I don’t believe in Willcare. I just wanted to make that clear before I continue.

The dark-haired boy is this movie’s stand-in for C.C.

I know we all figured it was Garrett, but what if that’s not the case? What if Garrett was a red-herring?

What if, during a party, at a Freddy’s restaurant (don’t know if Fredbears is a thing in this universe), in 1983, 9-year-old Vanessa is sick and tired of her whiny younger brother. 

Maybe she takes over Michael Afton’s role and torments C.C. 

On this particular day, she, along with a few other friends, causes her brother to be killed via animatronic bite. 

These friends are Jeremy Fitzgerald (maybe) and Mike Schmidt. 

I don’t know enough about this universe’s Jeremy, so for now, I’m not going to say anything else about him. 

Mike, on the other hand, is a year younger than Vanessa at eight-years-old. His parents are expecting another child soon (or maybe Garrett’s already born), and he’s feeling left out and jealous. 

He’s never felt this way before, so he has no idea how to accurately tell someone how he’s feeling. 

This leaves him feeling angry, and his temper is often frayed. 

It doesn’t help that the only one who will pay him attention is his aunt. And that doesn’t always mean positive attention. 

So, when Vanessa asks him to help her torment C.C, he obliges. 

C.C’s dead. Mike, Vanessa, and the other kids are traumatized. 

William uses this event to keep Vanessa from running away. 

Mike’s family moves away, and he decides to fully-embrace becoming a big brother. 

For a while, their life is peaceful. 

Then, in 1987, William kidnaps and kills Garrett as revenge. 

The photo is of Mike: 

Now, this doesn’t mean that Mike’s an Afton. 

I know it seems odd that William would have a random photo of a kid that’s not his, but hear me out. 

Mike is an Emily (or this universe’s equivalent of an Emily). 

Assuming that the casting call for the dark haired boy is supposed to be younger than Young Michael’s casting call. 

It’s hard using height to determine age, as 12-year-old Michael is ½ an inch shorter than adult Mike. 

But they do specify they want someone shorter, around 4’0. 

Mike was kind of tall at 12, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he was tall his entire childhood. 

If we assume that this is 1. Mike 2. The DHB casting is also Mike. 3. Mike was 8 in 1983. 4.  And that he would have been four or five in 1980. 

Then we can start to paint a picture. 

Mike is an Emily (or where I go off the deep end):

The little sister casting specifically asks for a four-year-old. 

If there's multiple flashbacks, who’s to say that it won’t showcase multiple years. 

What if one of the flashbacks takes place in 1979-1980. 

What if Fredbear’s family diner really does exist in this timeline?

The date on the restaurant’s license is 1979-1980. Maybe this is foreshadowing for the actual opening date of Fredbear’s. 

Now, if Fredbear’s opens in 1979 (in the FNAF movie universe), this would place Mike at the little girl’s age. 

I mean, even if they’re asking for a kid that’s a little older than four, it’s not like they’re not strangers to using older kids for younger roles (look at Garrett’s actor, he was six, playing a four-year-old).

Mike and the little girl (which I will now call Charlie, for sake of ease) are the same age.

You might even call them twins….

William’s obsession with Henry and Henry’s humanity is a common theme throughout all of the FNAF timelines. 

Maybe in this one, he tries to push that obsession down.

And, for a while, it works. 

He plays the loving uncle to Mike and Charlie. 

He even takes Mike under his wing.

One, because it means he has something over Henry. 

Two, because Henry, in every universe, is neglectful of his children until it’s far too late. 

One day, in 1980, Charlie Emily is found dead.

Henry is blamed, and he’s sent to prison. 

Mike is so young and so traumatized by the death of his sister that he blacks it all out.

1 of 4 ways this plays out:

Henry’s wife is still around. 

She’s Garrett and Abby’s mom. 

She takes Mike and moves away, starting fresh in a new state. 

She remarries quickly, having Garrett a few years later.

The reason Garrett’s death hit her so hard (besides the obvious) is that she’s already lost two children. 

And she was never upset that Abby was born a girl, though that’s the assumption she left Mike and likely her husband with. She was upset, because for the first time in a decade, she was reminded of her first baby girl. And the guilt finally caught up with her. 

There’s also the chance that she blames Mike, and thinks (irrationally) that he’s the reason that her babies are gone. 

From her POV, Mike was there when Charlie went missing, and he was there when Garrett went missing. 

2 of 4:

Henry’s wife is still alive, but they divorced shortly after the twins were born. 

Mike is sent to live with her and her new husband. 

3 of 4:

Henry’s wife isn’t around.

Aunt Jane, Henry, and Mr. Schmidt are all siblings.

When Henry’s sent to jail, Jane takes Mike in. 

As most young children do when faced with confusing emotions and tense situations, Mike acted out. 

He threw constant tantrums, and for all her faults in the future, Jane tried her very best to make him comfortable. 

But the amount of therapy he’d need was way above her budget, so she asked her brother to take him. 

Mike was then adopted by the Schmidts. 

He may have even gotten his name changed from Sammy to give him a fresh start. 

4 of 4:

Henry’s wife isn’t around. 

Aunt Jane, Mr. Schmidt, and Henry are siblings, BUT they’re all estranged. 

Mike, who’s Sammy at this point, is placed with the Aftons. 

For a few months he lives under William’s roof. 

The photo on the mantle is the only proof that he ever lived there at all. 

He lived there until his social worker got in contact with Mr. Schmidt. 

The reason Vanessa doesn’t (seemingly) remember him (despite his picture still being there) is that one, he looks different. Two, he had a different name. And three, she was told he was taken by the state. 

Mike wouldn’t remember due to trauma, his age, and his parents doing everything in their power to sweep it under the rug. 

They thought by giving him a new name and a fresh start, it would help him.

But it just caused him to have violent temper tantrums, or at least a short temper.

(I might add more to this later).

Sorry for the length, but I’ve been thinking about this for days.

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #12

Prompt #12: Illusion

Emmet is usually one for schedules- especially if it involves self care- but of course, things have changed to better adjust to Ingo getting back into the swing of things. Emmet says he doesn't mind. Maybe a few safety checks got ignored. Maybe his schedules aren't followed too closely anymore. And maybe- just maybe- a bad coping mechanism has formed.

Read the whole thing below the cut.

Crickets chirped. Emmet tinkered within the confines of his garage, his brow heavy with sweat as he carefully tightened a fastening nut to the model train he’d been working on that entire evening ever since he had gotten off of his shift early. He spared a glance toward his Klingklang who had been whirring silently in the corner, having fallen asleep a long time ago waiting for him to finish. One hour had turned into two turned into four and now turned into six. He had been scheduled to direct the passenger lines meaning that Emmet’s day had wrapped up at around four in the afternoon.

Rain fell in silencing curtains, turning the streets outside shiny and the air damp. Thunder rolled overhead, causing the bits and bobbles along the garage walls to shudder. Owning a house in Nimbasa didn’t take them any farther from the noise and the lights and the sounds of the city; rather, it gave Emmet a nice place to hear the city backdrop from, tuning it out as he worked silently- tirelessly- on his pet project.

The garage door quietly groaned on its hinges. Ingo stepped out into the garage, shivering from the sudden change in temperature as he saddled over toward the trash bin, a large bag in his hand. He spared Emmet a curious glance. “It is past midnight, Emmet.”

“I know.” Emmet didn’t look up from his train model, turning it this way and that under the light of the suspended desk lamp to make sure that all of the wheel bolts were tightened as far as they could go. He focused on the feel of the wood grain under his fingers, preferring to feel the material rather than use safety gloves in case of splinters. Not the safest choice. 

“You are usually asleep by nine at the latest.” Ingo deposited his trash in the bin before walking over to study the train model. “This is very well crafted! The front facing grills are perfectly symmetrical- oh! And your work with aligning the wheels with the rotary pistons is absolutely remarkable! Bravo!”

            Emmet turned away, flustered at the unexpected amount of praise he had suddenly received. He couldn’t say that he felt the same about his handiwork. 

Model trains used to be a fun hobby that both Ingo and Emmet had started when they were kids, spurned on by their parents and of course, their uncle, Drayden, who had plenty of money to burn and who loved to spend time with them even when the burly man didn’t outwardly show it. It used to be a well-loved hobby. One where their parents would buy them the cheap wooden ones where the paint would easily chip off and then the two brothers could paint them however they wanted. Those were laid to rest on multiple shelves in the house, looming high up on the walls where they could collect dust in peace.

            Then came the complex ones, the ones that Drayden purchased from abroad or bargained for on auctioning sites. The piece-by-piece sets that came pre-decorated with their shiny plastic exteriors and their extensive wiring. The ones that could make noise and cruise along constructed tracks. Emmet remembered spending all of his free time during college working on an extensive whole-room train model set boasting more than a dozen powered model trains. Those engines had also been laid to rest on static tracks just beneath the wooden model trains. Still beloved. Still seen. Rarely heard. Those were what had inspired him to take up engineering- after all, Ingo did all the planning. Emmet did all the construction.

            The model Emmet had been working on had been a massive pet project, one that he had been working on ever since Ingo had come back from Hisui. It had been pricey. Very pricey. So much so that it had put a massive dent into his savings account just to buy it, not accounting for the holding case he had also purchased when he inevitably finished the model.

Ingo needed therapy. His time in Hisui had changed him, for better or worse, Emmet couldn’t really say for sure. Ingo was certainly more withdrawn. More prone to outbursts. More prone to having nightmares and waking up yelling. But then, Ingo had also become wiser. He was more careful. More cynical. And despite Ingo having an obvious need to seek therapy for his past experiences, he had often advocated for Emmet to do the same.

Emmet didn’t need therapy- at least, that’s what he told himself. Emmet didn’t have any issues to power through. He didn’t have detachment issues like a lot of news outlets said he did back when the controversy of his brother up and disappearing first made headlines. Sure, Ingo’s absence had been particularly hard on him, but he had found outlets to channel his grief into. Model trains had been traded for research regarding the pokédex. Any day off was spent challenging the Wi-Fi Lines at the station to test potential combinations. Anything to stay on top of his game while ignoring the empty chair in his office and the empty room in his house. The model trains kept collecting dust.

The particularly large Big Boy model Emmet had been working on for months- the one that took up almost his entire workbench- had been a project that Emmet could focus on where he could just work and not really use his brain to think. It was quiet work. Repetitive work. Slow motions, heavy scrutiny, gradual payoff. And he only ever worked on it when Ingo was gone. Usually at work. Sometimes out with colleagues. Sometimes visiting Dawn in Sinnoh. Sometimes being solicited with Elesa. It was therapy for Emmet. A set aside time to focus on himself and relax. No questions. No prying. No ‘are you okay’ or ‘is there something bothering you’. No baited questions. Just silence. An hour or two putting together something that made Emmet happy; no one else.

And so, Emmet tinkered with the model train, involuntarily ignoring the way Ingo’s eyes sparkled when Emmet tested the rotary pistons with a screwdriver. He missed how Ingo had opened one of the miniature cabin doors and had been mesmerized at how meticulous the seating and handholds and lighting had been put into place. Emmet completely missed the way Ingo’s eyes moved over the intricate paint work or how brightly his brother smiled when Emmet took a second to test roll the train down its pre-set tracks.

When Emmet finally did resurface from his brief dissociation, he was surprised to see that Ingo had gone. Instead, a pale Zoroark sat in his place. The pokémon stared directly at him with its golden eyes, obscuring the train with one ghostly-white paw. But then, Emmet had been expecting as much. After all, Ingo ran the late-night passenger trains. He wouldn’t return home for another two or three hours.

“You should go to sleep,” the Zoroark mentally projected, blocking Emmet’s hands with their deep red claws. “You can continue your work tomorrow. Humans need to rest. You’ve been at it for some time now.”

            Emmet attempted to work around the pokémon, his eyes narrowing when the Zoroark- Ingo had named him something, what, Emmet couldn’t quite recall- had stood from its chair, positioning its massive body directly in front of him. “I have more work to do. Please do not obstruct the tracks.”

“Sleep now.”

“I am almost finished.”

            The Zoroark let out a soft growl and with an exhausted glance, levitating the model train onto a shelf high above where Emmet couldn’t reach. “You can finish tomorrow. Sleep comes first. You are scheduled to work again tomorrow.”

            The Zoroark- specifically, a variant Zoroark from Hisui that had somehow migrated to the future with Ingo on accident- rarely ever left the house, tending to be most active during the night. Zoroark never really bothered with Emmet, almost always preferring to sleep in the attic and phase through the walls to scare the both of them during odd hours of the night. Zoroark had one job and one job only: consuming Ingo’s nightmares and stopping his brother’s night terrors in their tracks. Ingo had a lot of nightmares. Zoroark was very good at their job. Both Zoroark and Chandelure tended to get along like a house on fire.

Zoroark was old- older than Drayden. Most definitely older than a hundred years, or so Ingo would have Emmet believe. Emmet hadn’t really been all that receptive when Zoroark had hitched a ride and had made themself quite cozy in the brother’s shared house without permission. He knew that both Ingo and Zoroark had some kind of history, that which hadn’t been shared with Emmet. But then, Ingo rarely spoke about Hisui.

“I am fine,” Emmet reasoned, swiping a few pieces of cut wood into a waste bin on the side of the desk. “You may return back to the attic.”

“I never asked if you were.” Zoroark almost dragged Emmet out of his seat, using their powers to close the garage door. “Come with me.”

Emmet didn’t fight back; he couldn’t. Psychic types and ghost-types had powers that were nigh impossible to resist  which allowed Zoroark to easily float Emmet to his bed as though he were a naughty Zorua about to be grounded. Up in his room, Zoroark deposited him onto his bed like a wet bag of flour. And the moment his back hit the soft mattress, all of the stored energy that he’d been running off of for hours depleted in the fraction of a moment, leaving him feeling bone-tired. Zoroark seemed all too pleased with themself. Emmet only laid on the mattress.

He sat there for a while, his hands aching and a cramp threatening to start in his calf. His hunger and thirst had caught up with him and so too did his exhaustion, taking the breath out of him. It had crept up on him like a high speed train. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Too similar to how things used to be. 

“Aren’t you going to change?”

“Nah. I’ll leave it… for the morning.”

“You should eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” Emmet lied.

Zoroark hopped onto the bed, settling into a lazy ball just a pace away from Emmet. Zoroark faced him directly, their wispy mane obscuring everything Emmet could see.  Zoroark stared down at him. Glowered at him, almost. They then let out a rasping sigh. “You are almost exactly like your kin, did you know that?”

“We are twins.”

“You both have a bad habit of focusing on everything but yourselves.” Zoroark laid its head on its paws, still keeping one lazy eye on Emmet. “Perhaps, I should consume your dreams as well. Your spirit reeks.”

“Reeks of what?” Emmet snarked, bodily turning away from the pokémon.

“Guilt.”

 Emmet shut his eyes, ignoring the soft touch of Zoroark’s paw to the side of his face. He had completely ignored his safety checks. Maybe I do need therapy.

[janesurlife]

"When I was young, I learned a lesson that is still etched in my mind. I'm not sure how old I was exactly, but I think I was around 12. During that age, I loved to go fishing. I love the sea, because I am of Mallorca, and in my case the sea is part of my life. It is about the feeling of being by the sea, sitting on the rocks with your family and friends, or on a boat: the disconnection and peace you feel is something. special. One day I went fishing when I could having been training. The next day I lost my match. I remember I was crying in the car on the way home, and my uncle, who at that early age had a great influence on me, and who made me fall in love with tennis, told me : “Okay, it's just a tennis match. Don't cry now, there's no point. If you want to fish, you can fish. But if you want to win, you have to do what you have to first. do.” It was a very important lesson for me. He sees me as a perfectionist, so it's because of that inner voice that was calling me on the car ride home. The voice has never left me. One day I will be able to be in the sea. "Today and tomorrow... I have to practice."

"I wasn't a kid who really had sports idols. I guess it has to do with my Mallorcan character. My heroes were people I knew in real life. But when I was 12 years old I was able to play for the first time with Carlos Moyá. A Spanish compatriot, also from Mallorca. French Open champion and first Spanish player to be number 1. I was so nervous just to hit some balls with him. It was an unforgettable experience, a window to another world. Tennis was transforming from something that was just for fun (a child's game) to a true pursuit of making a living. It made me dream a little more. One day, maybe I can play at Roland-Garros..."

"But pain is one of life's greatest teachers. I got hurt when I was 17 and was told I would probably never play professional tennis again. I learned that things can end in an instant. It's not just a small crack in my foot, it is a disease. There is no cure, only management. What does that mean? You go from the greatest joy to waking up the next morning without being able to walk. great lesson of humility and I was lucky to have a father (the true influence I have had in my life) who was always so positive. "We will find a solution," he said. "And if we don't, there are other things in life besides the problem. tennis." Hearing those words, I could barely process it, but thank God, after a lot of pain, surgeries, rehab, and tears, a solution was found and, all these years, I was able to fight it."

"Tennis is a sport that demands a lot from you mentally, but there are many moments of joy that I will never forget. The Davis Cup in 2004, Roland Garros in 2005, of course Wimbledon in 2008. But then there is my first US Open and when I closed the circle of the Grand Slam tournaments in Melbourne. And I don't forget those tournaments like the one in Madrid and Barcelona in my country, or the one in Indian Wells in Miami, or the one in Cincinnati where I won. for the first time in 2013, or the beautiful Monte Carlo, or the special feeling of Rome, or Shanghai and Beijing with those incredible fans... Canada, Mexico, Chile, Brazil, my first days in Buenos Aires... so many. of incredible memories. However, you can never stop trying. You can never relax. You always have to improve, and that has been the constant in my life. That's how I became a better player.

For 30 years, the image I conveyed to the world was not always what I felt inside. Honestly, I've been nervous before every game I've played; that never leaves you. Every night before a game I went to bed feeling like I might lose (and when I woke up in the morning too!). In tennis, the difference between players is very fine, and between rivals even more so. When you go out on the field anything can happen, that's why all your senses must be awake, alive. That feeling, the inner fire and the nerves, the adrenaline of going out and seeing a full court, is a very difficult feeling to describe. It is a feeling that only a few can understand, and something that I am sure will never be the same again now that I retire as a professional. There will still be those moments playing exhibitions and maybe in other sports as well. "I will always compete and try to do my best, but it won't be the same feeling as walking in front of the fans in a certain stadium."

For most of my career, I was good at controlling emotions. With one exception. I went through a very difficult time, mentally, a few years ago. I was very used to physical pain, but there were times on the court when I had a hard time controlling my breathing and I couldn't play at the highest level. I have no problem saying it now. After all, we are human beings, not superheroes. The person you see on center court with a trophy is a person. Exhausted, relieved, happy, grateful, but only one person. Fortunately, I haven't gotten to the point where I can't control things like anxiety, but there are times with every player when it's hard to control your mind, and when that happens it's hard to have full control of your game. There were months when I thought about taking a complete break from tennis to clear my mind. In the end, I worked on it every day to get better. I conquered it by always moving forward and little by little I became myself again. What I am most proud of is that I may have struggled, but I never gave up. "I always gave my best."

Tennis is also a teacher of life itself. Most of the time, you don't win the tournament you play. No matter who you are, at the end of many weeks you will have lost. Real life is the same. You learn to live with the moments of joy and the moments of pain, and try to treat them the same way. In the good times I never thought he was Superman and in the bad times I never thought he was a failure. "What makes you grow as a person is life itself: the failures, the nerves, the anguish, the joy, the process of waking up every day and trying to be a little better to achieve your goals." "At the end of the day, you get what you give. I hope my legacy is that I always tried to treat others with deep respect. This was my parents' golden rule. When I was a child, my father He always told me: “Inventing is difficult. Copying is much easier.” It wasn't about life. Look around you and see how people you admire treat people. them. Act like them and you will probably live a happy life. I carried that lesson with me in every game I played. I was not driven by hatred for my rivals, but by deep respect and admiration I simply tried to wake up every morning and improve a little to keep up with them. "I tried... I always tried." "For over 30 years I have given everything I could to this game. In return, I received joy and happiness. Joy and happiness, love and friendship, and so much more... Sincerely, Rafa."

[idontplaytrack]

Coming Home

Capri Donahue x gn! reader

Warnings: fluff, mentions & descriptions of anxiety, some coarse language

In which, reader wakes up feeling like they’ve gotten out from the wrong side of bed and nothing feels right

(Pictures used above are from Pinterest)

Requested? Yes / No

You stood before the vanity, looking at yourself in the mirror. Taking a few deep breaths to relieve the tense feeling in your body, not much happens— you still felt…weird. But since you only had thirty minutes to leave the house and get to your shift at the bookstore on time, you couldn’t focus on that. Not now, you couldn’t be late. Glancing over your shoulder at Capri’s sleeping figure, you left the room. Grabbing your lunchboxes and placing them into a bag, you then put your shoes on. You made sure that you've already grabbed your keys, wallet and phone before leaving the house. Your heart was racing and you didn't like it— you didn't know why that was happening but you couldn't do anything about it. You got into your car and drove off, hands clutching onto the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

"You're okay, y/n." You reminded yourself, "Breathe...in and out. Breathe. Watch the road, focus on driving. Nothing else. Everything is—" Nope, not okay. You couldn't even trick yourself into it. Shit, and now your stomach hurt. "Why must it start hurting at the worst time possible?" A soft sigh escaped your lips as you stopped at a light, "God, stop it."

Eventually, you got to work. Putting your stuff into your locker, you put your name tag on and retrieved your water bottle. Chugging some of the liquid, you put it back, walking out to the floor.

"Everything alright, y/n?"

You blinked blankly a few times, "Uh, yeah. Fine. Everything's fine."

You felt like the air was getting sucked out of you— you felt like you were ‘over-feeling’ every single normal bodily sensation.

Your manager then tasked you to stock the shelves with a few boxes of the new books and other items that had just arrived. Thankfully, during which, you felt fine. You felt relaxed, for the first time since you woke up that morning. You worked in a pretty small bookstore that doesn’t get too crowded so it was peaceful most of the time.

“y/n.” Your manager taps you on the shoulder, unintentionally startling you.

“Oh, hey Alex.” You stopped what you were doing for a moment.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle ya. What time do you wanna go for your break?” He asks.

“Uh, maybe 12:30?”

“Sure thing.” He nods, “Okay, I’m gonna let you get back to restocking. Is it okay if you cover for Elliot at 11:30? He’s gonna go for his break then. I gotta make some calls to suppliers and ask Dana why she isn’t here yet.”

“On the checkout?”

“Yeah.” He confirms.

You knew you had to do it somehow. You guys were the only ones working today and were short a staff member. “Just for the duration of our break. Sometimes he takes a way longer break.”

“That has become a problem, hasn’t it?” Alex sighs.

“A little, yeah.” You shrug, maybe coming off a little more annoyed than intended.

“I don’t wanna pry because we all have bad days, but do you wanna take a minute for yourself and calm down? ‘Cause I know sometimes you deal with thought spirals.” He asked you straightforwardly.

“I am feeling a little weird today. Don’t know why, and those breathing exercises did not work.”

“I’m sorry, but if you need a minute just let me know and you can dip out, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded lightly, “Thanks, I just— I think I need something to do where I’m not thinking about anything, like—”

“I got you, just finish this up and work on the displays. Change them up a little. I’m gonna go give Dana a call, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

————

As midday approached, you started feeling more…okay. “y/n, Alex says you’re covering for me, right?”

“Yeah, but can you come back on time? Because I’m not feeling too great today and I don’t be on the front for too long.”

He seethed, “Sorry. Yeah, I’ll come back on time, I promise.”

“Alright, thanks.” You answered with a shrug, sure that he would most definitely not keep to his word. But, it had to be said. He couldn’t just keep taking longer breaks because he feels like it.

You took his place behind the cashier while you watched him take off his apron and leave. The bell above the door tinkling, signalling his departure from the store. You zoned out briefly, staring at the keyboard when the door opening again snapped you back into reality. You were expecting a customer but it was Dana who rushed into the store apologising profusely for oversleeping.

“Good! There you are. So good to see you. Will you be okay to—” Alex walks out from the break room. Dana interrupts him. “Work overtime? Yeah, I’ll make up for the hours I missed this morning.”

“That. And, could you cover the checkout? I want y/n working on the displays instead. Elliot takes forever and Derek our store’s artsy guy won’t be working for the next two weeks.”

“Sure, no prob!” Dana stood beside you.

“So you wanted me to change them all?”

“That’s right. It’s getting a little boring having everything looking like this for the past two months. Shake it up a little, friend.”

“On it.” You nodded firmly.

“Also, Elliot should be back by 12:15. So he isn’t back by then, call him, text him…whatever you do. Get him back here.” You heard Alex telling Dana as you walked into the storage room at the back to get out a couple boxes of decorations.

You worked on redoing the displays until you had to go for your break. Sitting down in break room, you opened up your lunchboxes and dug into the food: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in one container and the other had some trail mix in one half and veggies in the other half. You completely zoned out while you ate, until Capri sends you a text.

Lunch went by pretty quickly. You put away your empty lunchboxes in your locker, went to wash your hands, then got back to work. “All good?” Alex asks when he saw you exit the break room.

“Yeah, I finished my food so I’m going back to wo—”

“You, not the displays.” He bit back a laugh.

“Better, actually. Thanks for asking.”

“That’s good.” He replies, “Hey, you’re working tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” You ask, shoving your hands into your pockets while you leaned against the wall.

“Nothing, I’m just thinking if you wanted to just take the day off tomorrow? You’ve worked six days last week and already two days this week.”

“Would you have enough people on shift?” You asked again, concerned.

“We’ll be fine, employee-of-the-month.” He jokes, “Don’t worry about it. Take tomorrow off, relax, sleep in, sleep all day, go see the stars with your girlfriend. Anything.”

“If you insist.” You agreed, “I’m gonna— hey, do you think we should shift the horror and thriller books more to the front for this table? Since Halloween’s next month.”

“y/n. You know what you’re doing at this job, just go for it. I’ve never doubted you.” Alex says.

“Very well then.” You nodded slowly, scurrying away to the back of the store to move the set of books to a table nearer to the front of the store.

————

After saying bye to Alex, Dana and Elliot, you left and started your drive home. As you got into the car, your nose was hit with an oddly familiar scent which made you feel anxious. You hated that certain scents could do this to you. You were doing pretty well until now.

Deciding to put on your favourite playlist, you drive off. Once again, you relied on your breathing exercises the whole way through. However, when you got home, you still felt strange. That feeling from earlier on in the day was bubbling back up.

Unlocking the front door, you stepped inside and shut the door. Before the front door even fully shut, Capri came up to you. “Hi, baby.” She presses a kiss to your lips while brushing the hair out of your eyes. She studied your face, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You pursed your lips together, shaking your head, “I…don’t know what’s making me feel so…on the edge today? I just feel shitty, every little thing triggers a stomachache or makes my heart feel like it’s going to beat out of my chest. Everything just feels so off.” You looked away from her but she just tilted your chin with her finger to make you look at her. Capri cups your cheeks in her hands, caressing your cheek, “You’re okay, you’re home now. I’ve got you.”

Looking at Capri right in the eye made you feel like crying, made you feel like releasing those tears that you were holding back for some reason. Finally, with her, in her presence…her company. Your body just…relaxed. Completely relaxed and let go off whatever repressed feelings from the day. “I’m gonna give you a hug, alright, baby? Is that okay with you?” She asks softly and you answered by wrapping your arms around her first.

You soon stopped crying and broke away from the embrace. Capri slowly does the same, “Go take a shower, okay, babe? I’ll join you in a minute. Just have to turn the oven off.”

“Okay.” You agreed with a sniffle, trudging upstairs.

You grab your towel and walked into the bathroom, stripping your clothes off then stepped into the shower. You hear footsteps over the sounds of the falling water, then saw Capri walking in. She helps you shampoo your hair and lather the soap on your body— you just let her, enjoying her company. While you washed everything off, she was shampooing her own hair and soaping up her body. Even when you were done, you just hung around until she was too.

She leads you back into your shared bedroom by the hand then picked out a change of clothes for you— her clothes. Your favourite comfy hoodie of hers and your own pair of shorts. Once you were both dressed, she cuddled with you without you having to ask while watching Friends with you. She knew exactly what you needed.

Eyes flicking upward to look at hers, your heart melts as do you, into her embrace. She presses a kiss to your head, pulling you closer to her. Her eyes. They felt like…coming home. So beautiful, so warm, so loving.

“Capri?” Your eyes met hers again. She presses the space bar to pause the show, “Yes, baby?”

You cup her cheek and pulled her a little lower, pressing your lips onto hers. Capri smiles, returning the kiss. “I love you.” The corner of your lips tug into a smile.

————

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @reneeswif3 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

[obsolescent]

The Darkness and the Light

Chapter I - All Around Me

Pairing: Jill Valentine x Reader

Summary: Working nights at a gas station has its perks, little foot traffic and relatively quiet, peaceful even, until one customer shows up. There’s something about her that’s so odd, you can’t look at her for long. There’s a feeling that goes from chilling to burning like fire, coursing through you whenever she’s around. During this time of year the days are getting shorter, becoming chillier, leaves starting to fall. Something is in the air, stirring within you. You never feel alone nowadays, a feeling that was once comforting has now put you on constant edge. A presence is always lurking around the corner, right out of reach. Even if you wanted to fight it, could you? Or were you destined for its pages, years in the making, the story needing you to reach its conclusion.

Author’s Notes: Inspired loosely by songs and a book series I read when I was younger. I’m not sure how long this will become. Unfortunately this was supposed to come out before Halloween, but I got sucked into other writings, apologies. I hope y'all like a chilling story after the fact! Jill is perhaps a bit out of character for this, due to her being a vampire. RE5 Jill for this, Capcom are cowards for not keeping her look from 5. I hope you enjoy it!

Content Warnings: Swearing, gender neutral language used for reader, Jill is a vampire, eventual smut in upcoming chapters, reader has a gun, unintentional manipulation/persuasion from vampires and their powers, protective Jill, violence, mentions of stalking, depression, thoughts of losing one’s mind.

|| Disclaimer: Jill Valentine is trans in this story. Keep your transphobic remarks to yourself and don’t read this if that bothers you. ||

“Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee. — Psalm 139:12

“You got protection?”

You stop, hand hovering over the customer’s drink as your eyes meet.

“Huh?” A questioning sound leaves you. Head tilting, eyebrows furrowed.

He repeats his question, “You got any protection?”

Your eyes flicker to the gun under the register.

“Yeah, I got something.”

He chuckles, pointing to the ceiling, “From above?”

You smile, one of those big, fake customer service smiles. “I got something a little more physical.”

His eyes widened a bit, before he laughs again, nodding approvingly. “Don’t blame you, being here by yourself so late at night. You take care now, you here?”

You nod, thanking him and wishing him a good night. The door chimes when he leaves. You release a puff of air, slumping into yourself.

Another long night.

You leave your spot at the register, grabbing your rag on the way. Absentmindedly wiping down surfaces, restocking cups and lids, checking creamer and sugar levels. Your movements are almost robotic after doing this for so long, going on autopilot while performing your tasks.

You’re on your knees, the cabinets opened beneath the drink station, gathering the needed cups to replenish when the door chimes. Your mouth is opened to greet the customer when that all consuming feeling prickles the back of your neck.

Like ice cold water has been poured down your back, goosebumps forming and hair standing on end, barely able to squeak out a “Hello”.

Without looking, you know who it is.

She always comes late at night, doesn’t stay for long, doesn’t talk. At first, you didn’t notice her really, blending in with other customers. It wasn’t until one interaction, when you had been handing her change. You’re always careful to not touch the customers when doing so, avoiding direct contact, germs and whatnot. This time, your aim was off, basically smacking the change into her palm.

You couldn’t even react like you normally would, an apology on your tongue when you realized how cold she was. Though, coming into contact with her chilly skin should’ve caused your own to bristle, but instead you felt heat.

You thought that maybe she was so cold that it felt like you had been burned, but when yanking your hand back, a couple coins hitting the counter with a plink plink at the force of your movements, the flames kept coursing through you.

The direct contact with her skin hadn’t lasted longer than a few seconds. But, ever since then, if your back is turned when she enters, you feel the chill, but as soon as you turn towards her, meeting those icy blue eyes, your body is set aflame.

You hate the icy hot feeling that occurs whenever she’s here. It leaves you feeling nauseous and tired afterwards, like you’ve been battling the flu. Ugh.

She makes her usual rounds, walks through every aisle, before walking back around to the shelves lined with toiletries. She takes something from a hook before making her way to the counter.

You leave your spot, head down as you make your way behind the counter. You eye the item she chose, some lip balm. It’s different each time.

Gaze not directly meeting hers, your eyes focus on the scarf wrapped around her neck. Maybe if you don’t look into her eyes, the feeling won’t come.

It comes anyways. You wince, stomach churning, cheeks flushing. UGH, goddamn. You will yourself to crack a smile, voice wavering.

“H-hey, find everything okay?”

She nods.

Right. Of course. You tell her the total and she hands you cash, quickly getting her change ready. Your usual spill is leaving your mouth as you deposit the money into her hand, “Thankyouhaveagoodnight,” rushed out, fingers steering clear of her’s.

You’re patting yourself on the back internally for getting through the encounter quickly, but…

She continues to stand there.

Internal hand patting your back is now clenched into a fist, banging on a fictitious wall while you scream. Inhaling a deep breath, you smile and ask, “Is there anything else I can get you?”

A slight tilt to her head, blonde bangs shifting slightly.

“My name’s Jill.”

Oh.

You can’t remember a time where she uttered a word, now hearing her voice for the first time, her soft tone washes over your senses, and…The sickly feeling starts going away?

It’s like her voice soothes it, bringing forth the cure to your ailment. You feel your muscles relax once more, the way you felt before she came in, now accompanied by a soothing warmth.

Instead of being tossed directly into the fireplace, flames licking at you, you’re sitting beside it in comfort.

Your eyes flutter, confused but also grateful that horrible feeling has left you. You smile and tell her your name, knowing it’s on your nametag but now, able to look into those sky blue eyes and feel nothing but relief, you don’t mind speaking to her.

She nods, a small smile gracing her features before turning and exiting the store.

You’re struck dumbfounded, frozen while you watch her leave.

What was that???

A deep breath leaves you, slumping over the counter, body now feeling exhausted after the roller coaster of emotions that coursed through you in such a short amount of time.

You stand up straight and walk to the soda fountain, getting yourself some sort of caffeine to help carry you through the rest of your shift.

Thankfully the rest of your time goes by quickly, able to close the store and count the drawer in a breeze, locking up and walking out to your car.

The hair on your neck stands up once again, a chill running through you. The feeling of being watched shrouds you and you sprint to the car, hitting the button to open the door and jumping in, immediately hitting the lock button.

Heart thudding in your ears, the blood rushing through your veins creates such a loud sound that fills the cabin of the car only you can hear as you grip the seat, the steering wheel, anything to try to keep calm, breathing harshly.

Your eyes dart around, looking out all the windows, head whipping around as you start the car. You scramble for the gun in your bag, gripping it tightly and setting it in your lap. You peel out of the parking lot, in a frenzy to just go, go, go, get out of there.

You take a detour to make sure, taking a longer way than you normally would.

Arriving home after checking for the tenth time that no one was after you, you hurry inside and lock the door, gun in hand. Taking your shoes off once inside, you hang your keys on the hook near the door and put your belongings away. Making your way to your bedroom, you drop the gun onto your nightstand and fall onto the mattress with an ‘oof’.

The adrenaline has gone away, replaced with exhaustion once more. So many emotions have run through you over the course of the day, you’re thankful to be home and alone, solitude desired after the events of the evening.

You feel absolutely boneless, no energy left to even shed your work clothes off.

All you can muster is the wandering of your thoughts, and they lead you back to Jill.

Her minuscule smile, the odd feelings you have around her, and why you only see her late into the night.

She’s the last thing on your mind before you drift off to sleep.

Tags: @caramlizedtomatoes, @cheezbites, @dwkfan, @emilzke, @neondogs, @roseglazedlens, @scar-crossedlvrs, @xxacademy

(If you want to be added or removed from the tags, please let me know).

[altocat]

Alright then... all 50 "Honest Favorite Character" prompts for Griffith. pls?

( @izunias-meme-hole )

ALL 50 HERE WE GO *cracks knuckles*

1. Do you project onto this character?

No. He's an asshole.

2. Did you always like this character?

The second I saw him all those years ago, I recognized him for the punkass little shit he was and instantly fell in love.

3. What first drew you to this character?

At the beginning of Golden Age, Griffith is incredibly charismatic. It's kind of one of his most defining features.

4. Did you initially dislike/hate this character?

No. ALTHOUGH NOW I CERTAINLY DO.

5. If this character were a woman, would you honestly still like them? Or in reverse, what if they were a man?

Griffith's appeal is all about the writing on him. Miura wrote some excellent female characters as well so I don't think it would change regardless of whether or not Griffith was a woman.

6. Do you have any nicknames or pet names you use for this character?

"THAT FUCKER."

7. Does the character’s age matter to you?

I think Griffith is supposed to be young and almost boyish at times. At least during Golden Age. It's honestly kind of hard to picture him as someone older.

8. Does the character’s looks/design matter to you?

In his case, 100% yes. He's supposed to be charismatic on both a physical and social level. That's how he gets you. The man is a serpent who uses people's attraction to him to his advantage.

9. Does this character remind you of anyone you know? Does that affect how you see them?

If I knew someone who acted like Griffith in real life, I'd be very, very concerned.

10. Do you see yourself in this character even without projecting?

No. The only thing I can maybe associate with myself is that we are both clingy people. But that's where the similarities end.

11. How did you “fall in love” with this character?

MIURA'S S-TIER WRITING ADFGHNFDS Griffith's character arc is so fucked up yet so profoundly interesting to watch.

12. If you could write effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what story (s) would you write for this character?

No attempt. I could not do this character justice.

13. If you could draw effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what scene (s) would you draw for this character?

That fucker getting cleaved in half.

14. Are you physically attracted to this character?

I think EVERYONE is sorta supposed to be physically attracted to him to a certain degree. That said, he's a bit too femboyish for me lolol

15. Are your thoughts surrounding this character usually sexual, non-sexual, or a mix of both?

Non-sexual. After what he did, VERY non-sexual.

16. Have you ever cried when thinking about this character? Genuinely?

No. Part of me pities him during that part of the plot where he gets tortured. But otherwise? No tears here.

17. Have you ever felt physical pain over this character? (ex: physical heartache).

NOPE.

18. Do you prefer to see this character suffer or know peace? Angst or comfort? Both?

FUCK HIM HE DESERVES TO SUFFER ASEDFGHFDS HE MIGHT BE MY FAVORITE BERSERK CHARACTER BUT I WANT THIS FUCKER TO DIE A SLOW AND PAINFUL DEATH

19. Does this character serve as a stress ball/ security blanket for you? Something you run to after a bad day to feel safe or happier?

"haha well at least I'm not as much of a bad friend as Griffith amirite"

20. Do you feel affectionate towards this character?

Yes. In the most I-love-you-because-I-hate-you kind of way.

21. Are your feelings about this character platonic, romantic, or familial? All of these feelings at once maybe?

None of these feelings. See above.

22. Do you think you will always love this character?

Studio Gaga is doing a great job with the latest chapters. I see no reason to dip out.

23. Has this character permanently altered or impacted your psyche in a way you won’t forget?

I think all of Berserk has done that tbh

24. Do you ever dream about this character? If so, describe a dream you once had about them.

No dreams. Thank god. If I dreamt about Griffith, I'd sleep with a cross under my pillow.

25. What kind of fan-fiction do you read about this character? If you don’t read fan-fics about them, why not?

I honestly don't read Berserk fic. Idk why--I think the story or characters are just too difficult to replicate.

26. If you look for this character’s name on AO3, what tags are you including or excluding?

N/a

27. Do you like to ship this character with other characters or do you prefer not to?

Pre-Eclipse Griffith/Guts MAYBE. Otherwise, NO.

28. Do you get defensive about this character? If yes, then why?

I do feel like there are some misinterpretations of his character here and there. But I get that because he's sometimes very difficult to get a good read on.

29. Do you affectionately bully this character?

Hahaha LET'S KILL HIM.

30. Are you especially sensitive about this character?

😊😊😊🔥

31. Are you ashamed of liking this character?

No. He's the best villain in anime fight me.

32. If you could make this character a meal, what would you make them?

Poison.

33. Are you “blinded by love” for this character or do you accept any flaws they may have?

I love him BECAUSE of his flaws. He is a horrid, horrid creature who deserves NOTHING.

34. Does this character inspire you with little things in your daily life?

Griffith inspires me to keep my dreams realistic.

35. Has this character ever prevented you from sleeping because you can’t stop thinking about them?

Me at 3am: "Man I hope Guts shanks that bastard"

36. Do you feel a spiritual/soulmate connection with this character?

NO.

37. Is your love for this character a secret from people you know in real life?

ALSO NO. I never shut up about Berserk lmao

38. Do you tend to joke more about dying or killing for this character? Both? What causes the distinction?

Oh I'm not joking 😊

39. Do you feel lovesick over this character?

NO.

40. Are you very empathetic towards this character? When they feel a certain way in the story, do you feel those emotions too?

I actually think it's really important to be able to empathize with villains to a certain degree. Griffith is VERY easy to empathize with during Golden Age. He's one of those villains where you completely understand WHY he does the things he does. I really love the writing behind it. But while I empathize with him, I don't JUSTIFY what he does. There's no justification.

41. Do you prefer to interact with this character directly via self-insert/reader type content? Or do you enjoy seeing them mostly with other characters in the story and/or your OCs?

Honestly if he interacted with a self-insert he'd probably just trick or backstab them in the end.

42. If you could, would you write this character a song or poem?

LOL no.

43. What type of weather makes you think of this character?

...Eclipses 😊

44. Which season makes you think of this character?

Winter 😊

45. Do you feel as if you are intimately familiar with this character?

It's hard to tell because the story of Berserk isn't over yet. Guess I'll find out soon.

46. How much do bad interpretations of this character upset you?

Eh, to each his own.

47. Does this character ever make you laugh sincerely?

The Berserk bloopers are so fucking funny, you guys.

48. What’s your favorite physical/design feature for this character?

Femto is such a cool wtf demonic design adfghfd

49. What’s your favorite personality trait in this character?

His manipulative nature and devious intelligence.

50. Link your fav song, playlist, aesthetic board, fan-fiction, reference pile, personal artwork, analysis post, meme, headcanon, or quote for this character. Whichever one (s) you are most comfortable with!

Don't have anything here, sorry :'D

[softie-rain]

The Sleeper In The Valley

pairing: Sejanus Plinth/Coriolanus Snow

prompt day 1: Literature

note: guys!! First day of Snowjanus week :D This one is inspired by my favourite poem ever, I studied it last year of high school and has been stuck in my head ever since. I loved writing it sm. Also first time trying to be aesthetic?? The post felt empty ): Btw I keep overthinking if today's the first day but hey if it's not enjoy my fic anyway.

Coriolanus and Sejanus lay down together, hand in hand, leaning against a tree, the nature surrounds them like in a beautiful painting.

Coriolanus recognizes the green grass where, just a few days before, they were laying down together - in a similar position to the one they’re in now - laughing about how Smiley had made a fool out of himself at the Hob with some girl from District 12. They laughed, and laughed, and Coriolanus was sure he’d never heard a more beautiful sound than the one coming out of Sejanus’ lips every time he made a bad joke.

Coriolanus remembers leaning in and kissing him, or maybe Sejanus leaned in first? Either way they found themselves entangled in each other’s arms, never wanting to let the other one go. And they smiled because there, in the misery of District 12, they had no one to divide them.

Coriolanus turns his head slightly and observes Sejanus’ eyes, closed, in a deep and peaceful sleep, as the sun softly caresses his features. His blue eyes move to his lover’s shaved head and he knows that, if they were still there, his curls would be shining under the sunlight. And if he opened them, his eyes would look like the sweetest honey he’s ever tasted. 

Coriolanus slowly moves to close Sejanus’ parted lips. He didn’t drool, ever. He didn’t snort at night, either, maybe that’s what made him such a good partner. Coriolanus laughs at the thought and he wishes he could wake Sejanus up, so they’d laugh at the joke together.

Coriolanus notices his forehead is sweaty, and so is Sejanus’. He wants to reach out to clean him with his sleeve but decides against it, it’s probably useless anyway.

Coriolanus goes back to focusing on the valley, and a smile automatically forms on his lips, a wave of new (old) memories washing over him once more. Him and Sejanus found that spot in the forest by accident, during one of their rare breaks from their peacekeepers duties. They’d come back to that magic place near the river everytime Commander Hoff would give them a free day, or even just a free afternoon. They’d run together hand in hand, towards the river, throwing themselves in the cold water. Splashing and kissing each other like two fools teenagers in love, hiding away from their parents’ disappointment. But wasn’t that what they truly were?

Coriolanus’ eyes fall on Sejanus’ figure again, and this time he reaches out to him, gently caressing his cheeks. How funny, his forehead so sweaty yet he feels so cold. He wishes he could warm him up somehow, maybe by rubbing his cheeks in his hands, or kissing him so hard he won’t be able to do anything but blush as he kisses back, as he did all those times when Coriolanus would kiss him by the river. But he notices Sejanus wears a smile on his face, a small one, one you don’t notice unless you pay attention. But Coriolanus knows Sejanus better than anyone else, and sees it.

Sejanus once told him that, while he loved their secret place, the strong smell of the flowers - which Coriolanus couldn’t name even if he tried - bothered him, making him sneeze at all times. Allergies, maybe. But that didn’t stop them from keeping on coming back there, anytime they could.

Sejanus often felt sick, Coriolanus noticed, and not only physically. When his body was in perfect shape then it was his mind that slipped away, in dark places, from which he escaped only by talking to Coriolanus. And Coriolanus would let him, always, whenever he needed. But he didn’t speak to him all the time, and that had him worrying. Did Sejanus feel this way more often than he’d tell? 

Sejanus loved sleeping under the sun, he said it made him feel safe, warm. Coriolanus hopes the sun brightening his face never goes away. It’s why Coriolanus brought him here, after the so-called ceremony, he knows this is where Sejanus would have wanted to sleep. Their secret shared spot he loved so much. 

Coriolanus knows that Sejanus was calm now, hand on his chest, now that the flower’s smell couldn’t make him sick anymore. Nothing could, not even the bruises around his neck that were starting to turn a dark shade of purple.

Sejanus was a sick child. And Coriolanus couldn’t help but see it that way when he pressed record. Coriolanus was happy, because he was sure that was going to cure his sick child.

“I’m sorry.” Coriolanus says, kissing Sejanus’ cold, dead, lips.

here's the poem, if you're interested <3

It’s a green hollow where a river sings/Madly catching white tatters in the grass./Where the sun on the proud mountain rings:/It’s a little valley, foaming like light in a glass.

A conscript, open-mouthed, his bare head/And bare neck bathed in the cool blue cress,/Sleeps: stretched out, under the sky, on grass,/Pale where the light rains down on his green bed.

Feet in the yellow flags, he sleeps. Smiling/As a sick child might smile, he’s dozing./Nature, rock him warmly: he is cold.

The scents no longer make his nostrils twitch:/He sleeps in the sunlight, one hand on his chest,/Tranquil. In his right side, there are two red holes.

[baronessblixen]

Nobody asked for my two cents on this but here it goes. I’ve been so deep into Gillovny shit for years that I feel I can guess what happened, more or less. Gillian, by her own admission, was attracted to dangerous boys. Comfort in relationships bored/unsettled her. 90’s DD was the perfect concoction for that: moody, a few emotional chips missing, never quite loving her enough and holding her in this limbo. The kind that could wear your lipstick all over their face one night (hint: ‘97 Emmy), and be fuming mad at you the next morning. If there was a dgaf war, DD was definitely winning. I’m pretty sure that somewhere during their push and pull, they got involved and it went south. They didn’t know how to deal with it given that they were forced to spend 12 hours/day together, so they dealt with it by not dealing with it at all. No closure, just passive-aggression. DD hurt her (unconsciously or not, idk). A while later he got married in a whirlwind and didn’t even tell her in the aftermath of their non-closure. I know homegirl says she doesn’t remember, but I think in addition to her fickle memory, she’s blocking all that hurt out. It’s her brain’s defense mechanism.

Today’s episode was very comforting. It felt like an ode to GA. The apology that came 20-something years too late, but was still cathartic. No matter how successfully they moved on from the situationship, it must be nice to finally hear all that. My Gillovny heart is in peace.

Happy to read your Gillovny heart is in peace. You know as much as I was looking forward to this, I didn't think it would touch me the way it did. Him apologizing and them making peace meant to much to me in a way. I grew up with them on the screen and reading how they hated each other and blah and if nothing else, it healed the 13-year-old inside of me.

As for your speculation on what went down: it's possible. They were so young. Gillian in particular. I think there was at least an attraction - and maybe more. I mean yesterday proved that they were awful at communication in those years and so of course things went down. I agree that maybe she blocked these things out. Or she really didn't want to get into it.

It was cathartic. I really hope it was for them, too. And I hope they do what they said and keep talking - without the mics. I think there's still so much that they need to talk about.