#spree layouts

[paradiseprincesss]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Sin City | Jackson Rippner

before you ask, YES this is totally based off of passenger princess by nessa barrett. also how do we like the new layout?!

summary — you're jackson's passenger princess.

warnings — smut, p in v, riding, car sex, exhibitionism sort of, public sex but mild, mentions of drugs and alcohol, sex under the influence

word count — 1.3k

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

You let out a blissful sigh as the Vegas wind blew through your hair, the speedometer of Jackson’s convertible reading 157 mph. 

Looking into the backseat, you momentarily space out as you stare at the bags of cold, hard cash and the shotgun resting on his famous leather seats. The feeling of Jackson’s hand on your thigh brought you back into reality, and you look over at him with a loving smile.

You were his favourite fantasy.

“Baby,” he called out to you over the music playing on the stereo, trying to focus on both you and the road simultaneously. “You’re so pretty.” 

You giggled, going in to kiss him on the cheek before sitting comfortably against the passenger seat, throwing your head back as the warm, midnight breeze hit you once more. The blaring music was drowned out as your mind went blurry, the euphoria and adrenaline of tonight consuming you whole.

Just hours prior, Jackson had killed a target successfully, as well as stealing millions of dollars in cash from the now dead man. Of course, you waited patiently outside in his car — his little passenger princess, as he liked to call you. 

Since the job required Jackson to travel to Vegas, he decided he wanted you to come with him so that he could spoil you (he always did). Shopping sprees to powder stashes — sex, money, and drugs — it was only fitting since you were in sin city after all. 

Anything you wanted, you could have.

Designer bags, designer shoes, and designer drugs. The world was his and he chose to share it all with you — his babygirl on board. 

The cocktail of whatever pills were in your system, mixed with the liquor you’d been drinking earlier, and the way your beloved boyfriend was driving his car made you more and more desperate for his touch by the minute. 

Your skin was burning as he was hitting full speed, your mind collectively creating images of all the things you could do in this car together, all alone on the side of the desert interstate…

“Jackson,” you said softly, reaching over to turn down the music, “pull over. I need you, like, right now.” 

He let out a low chuckle before skidding off onto the side of the road, pulling over just like you asked him to. The night sky was dark, stars littering the abyss that stood above you as the warm, summer night enclosed you both within it. 

“Right here? Now?” he chuckled, reaching over to cup your face gently. “Anyone could drive by and see us.” 

The thought of being caught only increased the thrill tenfold, especially since the car was a convertible — there were literally no walls to cover you at all if someone was to drive by or worse, if the police came chasing after you two.

“Right here, right now,” you decided, pulling him into a sloppy kiss.

You felt one of his hands reach up behind your head, softly tugging on your hair as the other one reached down, gently squeezing your tits as you moaned into his mouth. The kiss was rough and dirty, there was nothing gentle about the way you two loved each other.

You could feel the arousal pooling in your stomach. Your slightly inebriated state caused you to get irrevocably turned on, getting wetter and wetter as you started to soak through your panties. “Take your dress off, babygirl,” he growled, roughly tugging your hair. He cranked your neck back, giving him access to bite down and mark it.

You did as told, taking your skimpy little dress off — if it was even considered a dress. You tossed the slip (told you it wasn’t really a dress) into the backseat, watching as it landed over the bags of cash. 

He let go of your hair after he decided he’d marked you up enough, and once he was satisfied, he sat back in the driver's seat. His bright blue eyes still shone in the darkness of the night, dialled in on you as he waited for you to come straddle his lap the way you always did when you’d fuck in the car. 

He admired your body and that pretty face of yours for a moment longer before sighing. “You’re fucking perfect, aren’t you? Say you’re all mine.”

“I’m all yours,” you whispered softly, coming to straddle his lap with nothing but black, lace panties on — his favourite. 

You reached down, freeing his cock which was straining against his pants. Pulling it out, you gave him a few strokes before pulling your own panties to the side and lining his fat tip up with your leaking hole. You and Jackson let out filthy moans as you sunk down on him, his cock stretching you open and filling you whole. 

“Fuck,” you whined as you started to bounce up and down effortlessly on his length.

“That’s it,” he praised lowly, “fuckin’ ride me, just like that. Shit, you’re so good at this, honey.”

You moaned in response, continuing to focus on bouncing up and down on his thick cock, feeling your tight, soaking hole get stretched open with every movement you made. Your dripping cunt was soaking him, the sticky liquid running down his cock and down his balls. “You’re fucking soaking me, honey. Jesus,” Jackson purred, hands resting on your waist as he helped you ride him.

“Mmph!” you whined, feeling the coil in your lower stomach tighten by the second. The tip of his cock brushed up against that sweet spot inside of you, causing you to whine out over and over as he sat back and watched you lose yourself. 

 “Are you gonna come?” he cooed softly, running his hands on your waist, then moving down to your hips and your ass. “Yeah, you wanna come?”

“F–uck! Yes, Jackson! I wanna come, let me come—” you wailed out into the night, bouncing up and down on his fat cock, chasing your release as you spasmed around him. Jackson let out a choked groan as he felt your velvety walls tighten around his cock — it was like you were begging to be filled by him.

“Come for me, babygirl. Fuck, i’m gonna fill this perfect little pussy.” 

As stars danced in your vision, you creamed his cock, screaming his name. You felt Jackson shooting his load into your needy cunt, painting your walls white as he whispered your name under his breath. After a few moments of just heavy breathing, you opened your eyes to see his icy ones already staring right at you. Offering him a small smile, you placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

He was at your mercy, even if he rarely said it aloud.

“Gorgeous,” he commented softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as he stayed buried in your cum filled cunt. “I love—”

But before Jackson could finish his sentence, sirens sounded off in the distance. He whipped his head around in an instant, seeing those familiar red and blue lights flashing behind him. You hopped off of him in record timing, quickly reaching over to grab your black slip from the backseat, just in your matching panties as of now. 

Jackson wasted no time putting the car into drive, speeding off so fast you swore you’d gotten whiplash again. “Sit pretty for me, honey,” he said with a small smile, looking over at you as he drove at a fatal speed, “I love you.”

The sound of the sirens were getting closer, but you knew they’d never catch you. They never did. 

“I love you too,” you said, still clutching your slip as you stayed topless in the car with your boyfriend who was evading the police once more. One of his many admirable talents you loved.

Topless or not, you knew you’d only ever be this young and this free for so much longer — and you figured you might as well spend it living on the edge with him, running until you couldn’t run anymore. 

But that’s a story for another day. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

taglist

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@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love

[liver-f4ilure]

2023 Prague Shootings

(NOTE: I’m working on the Academy Maniacs post I promise!)

—

David Kozák was born August 12th 1999 in Hostouň, Czech Republic. Little is known about his early life.

After graduating high school Kozák started studying at the Charles University in Prague, specifically studying the history of Poland. He graduated with a bachelor’s degree and successfully defended his thesis, earning an excellent grade from his professor, František Stellner.

—

According to Czech police chief, Martin Vondrášek, Kozák had a gun license and owned 8 firearms at the time of the shooting. In the Czech Republic in order to obtain a gun license one must get a medical examination, amongst other things. Kozák’s friend, only named ‘Alice’, had become concerned with Kozáks mental state in summer of 2022. Due to this, Kozák underwent 4 psychiatric visits. During which he stated his suicidal tendencies before later stating his murderous thoughts aimed towards his parents and unassuming people. By the Psychiatrists advisory, Kozák visited the Psychologist once in December of 2022. In Czech Republic, psychiatrists must forward their reports to the patients general practitioner, if it is known to them, however Kozák did not disclose it, so no report was issued.

With this lack of knowledge, Kozák was able to obtain a gun license with the only rule being that he must wear glasses.

Police stated that Kozák had been planning the shooting for a while. On his search history was research about mass killers, including the ‘Forest Killer’ a spree killer in Prague who killed 3 people. He had also researched the teaching schedules of classes on the fourth floor and downloaded the schools layout and other surrounding buildings. Lastly, he made note about the possible amount of students in each classroom.

Kozák had told multiple friends about his gun purchases, especially Alice whom he told about undergoing shooting practices and his plans to start exercising saying that he’ll need to lift heavy bags in 2-3 months. Kozák also received a gift of CZK 300,000 (13,000 USD) from his grandmother and withdrew CZK 400,000 (17,000 USD) from his savings account. Both of which he used to purchase ammunition and other related equipment.

—

On December 15th 2023, Kozák was believed to have murdered a 32-year-old man and his 2 month old daughter in the Klánovice forest. He was one of many suspects in the case but it has not been confirmed.

On December 21st 2023 Kozák murdered his father, Stanislav Kozák, at their home in Hostouň, accomplishing his ideas of murdering his parents. Kozák then drove to Faculty of Arts, Charles University. He entered the main building and began shooting at students and teachers, he killed 14 people and wounded 22 others. Kozák also fired at police and bystanders from the fourth floors balcony, like he had planned. The attack lasted 20 minutes before Kozák shot and killed himself on the balcony.

His (used) weapons were 9mm semiautomatic pistol (Klánovice forest) .380 ACP Škorpion semi automatic pistol (Hostouň) 9mm Glock 47 semiautomatic pistol, Sig Sauer semi automatic pistol (classrooms) .308 ZEV AR-10 semiautomatic rifle (balcony) and a 12 gauge Francolin Guardian pump action shotgun (suicide/balcony)

—

In the aftermath, Kozáks home was searched and there police found a letter confessing to the murders in the forest, as well as improvised explosives. In a post- Mortem examination Kozáks personality was found to be “schizoid with narcissistic and antisocial traits and a very solid IQ”. Police determined the motive was simply that he felt misunderstood and that the attack was revenge to society.

—

As of today the shooting has been the deadliest shooting in Czech history.

—

-Vivi

[misshoneyimhome]

250 FOLLOWERS FESTIVAL

Sparks Fly - “My mind forgets to remind me you're a bad idea” I William Nylander

Summary; when you first met William Nylander, you had no idea what the universe was trying to tell you - but as you couldn't escape him, nor resist temptation, you ignored all that was supposed to feel right

Tropes & warnings; Strangers to lovers, cheating (kissing), Willy's mischievous smile and charm, romantic relationship, flirting, sexual thoughts, some nsfw descriptions

Other notes; did this turn out the way I expected? Nope - Do I regret it and want to write it all over? Also nope 🙃 please enjoy 🤍

Word count; 4K

➼｡ﾟ

Go right. Turn left. Head down. Wait?

Your gaze keenly tracked the items on the shelves as you searched for the last thing on your shopping list – toothpaste.

Examining the aisle thoroughly, you attempted to locate the small tubes. Just as you finally spotted something that might resemble what you were after, you came to a halt. Scanning the array of products, you aimed to find your preferred brand. But unfortunately, it was nowhere to be seen. And as you continued your search, a large figure unexpectedly collided with you from behind, causing you to drop the items in your other hand.

“Shit,” you exclaimed involuntarily, bending down to retrieve your things and feeling the jolt from the minor accident.

“Sorry about that,” the voice apologised, and the person squatted beside you, attempting to pick up some of your scattered belongings, though you beat them to it.

Looking up at the face of the stranger who had rudely bumped into you, you were greeted by deep blue eyes, a light, almost pale complexion, a crooked smile stretching across pink lips, and a sleeked-back lion's mane of hair. “No worries,” you said softly, flashing a friendly smile even though you felt the fatigue and a hint of annoyance lingering in your mind. At least he had been polite enough to apologise and assist in gathering the items. “I guess I was just lost in thought.”

“Yeah, me too,” the man chuckled lightly as you both gradually stood up. He was dressed in loose trousers and a hoodie, paired with slippers – a rather casual yet suitable look for a late-night shopping spree.

Maybe if you weren't feeling so tired, given the lateness of your impromptu shopping trip, you might have found him rather attractive with his charming smile. However, fatigue had taken its toll, and the idea of engaging in a conversation with a stranger didn't quite appeal to you at the moment.

Yet, the man remained stationary for a moment longer, his captivating eyes almost scrutinising you as you offered a friendly smile.

“So, were you looking for anything specific? You looked a little confused…” he finally broke the silence hanging between you.

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckled lightly. “I’m just on the hunt for this toothpaste I always use… but I'm clueless about the layout of this place…”

“What’s it called? Maybe I can help,” he politely offered assistance, and you couldn't help but smile as you shared the brand. “Ah, I think it’s this one…” he pointed out, placed on the top shelf, a bit above your line of sight.

“Oh, thanks… sorry, I'm a bit tired,” you apologised with a sigh.

“You're not from around here?”

The handsome stranger flashed you a friendly smile.

“Is it that obvious, huh?” you chuckled with a rhetorical tone.

“Just a little,” the man responded, and you couldn't help but smile back at him. For some unknown reason, his smile was incredibly enchanting, and you had to mentally remind yourself not to get too caught up in the interaction. “Well, is there anything else I can help you with?” he offered, displaying a polite and overly confident expression across his face.

“Well, uhm,” you attempted to speak, breaking the gaze the two of you had been sharing. “No, no thanks… I mean, I better get going - it’s late.”

You heard yourself mumble as you compelled yourself to move away from the appealing stranger, grabbing a random toothpaste and slowly making your way towards the cashier. However, as you walked away, you couldn’t resist glancing back, and, of course, your eyes briefly met his captivating face.

A flutter occurred in your stomach, something you hadn’t felt in a long time. But you had to brush it off. And as you reached the checkout register and exited onto the street, you once again had to pause, looking around to regain your sense of direction.

You might have seemed a bit lost, because once more, a new, familiar voice spoke behind you.

“Lost again?” he chuckled, moving closer to stand beside you in the winter night of the city.

“Uhm, no, just have to find the way to the bus, you know,” you tried to act as casual as possible, facing him again.

“Which way are you going?”

It was odd. You didn’t even question why this stranger was so willing to help you, yet you easily gave him your address and the bus details.

“It’s just up the street,” he pointed out, once again with a broad, friendly smile, his eyes almost sparkling in the reflection of the city lights.

“Thanks… again,” you smiled once more, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you suddenly felt a bit drawn to him, unsure why. Perhaps it was his helpful nature or his handsome face. Or maybe you were just so tired and needed some rest.

“No worries… I’m Will, by the way,” he kindly introduced himself. “And if there’s anything else you need help with in the city, you can just ask me.”

You were taken aback by his sudden casual introduction, your eyes expressing a hint of surprise as he continued to flash his charming smile.

“I, uhm, I’m Y/N… and that’s very nice of you,” you replied nervously, still a bit thrown off by how nonchalant and friendly he was towards you.

“That’s a nice name. Maybe, if you’d like, we can talk more about the city over a cup of coffee someday?”

His invitation was even more surprising, and the way he presented it was so laid-back. You could hardly tell if he was flirting or just being friendly.

Yet, you were intrigued, you had to admit that. But you didn’t want to make any rash decisions. So, you decided to go with what you considered the wisest choice and politely decline his offer.

“Oh, that’s really sweet Will - and though I’d really like to, I should probably tell you I’m already here with someone…” you offered him a comforting expression, a little nervous about how he’d take your rejection.

But there was no need to be worried. Will merely smiled and shrugged.

“Fair enough. Just thought I’d give it try.”

It was the sweetest encounter you’d ever had with a stranger, and you couldn’t help but feel another flutter in your stomach as he continued looking at you.

“Well… but thanks anyway,” you spoke, once again forcing yourself to withdraw from the slightly intimate conversation.

��Anytime.”

And with that, you parted ways, and you slowly began walking to the nearby bus stop.

“Shit…” you muttered to yourself. This was so not what you needed right now.

**

As you woke up the next day, you finally felt like you'd regained energy and were ready to face the world again. The long flight had been beyond exhausting, but after finally getting a good night's sleep, you were filled with excitement about exploring Toronto.

Getting ready to take on the day, you hopped in the shower, letting the warm water cascade down your body. Your muscles relaxed under the soothing warmth, and your eyes closed as you gently massaged the shampoo into your hair. However, while rinsing the soap out from your locks, your mind wandered, and a sudden vision of the handsome stranger from yesterday popped up in your head – his content smile and his amazing chuckle.

You swiftly opened your eyes, shaking your head to force him out of your mind, and returned to your routine. And finally dressed and ready to hit the city, you made your way to meet up with Jason after a short train ride.

Walking into a hockey arena wasn't completely out of the ordinary for you, as you'd previously set foot in one, just not in Toronto. And as you walked through the corridors like Jason had told, you managed to get past security with a friendly smile, stating your name and purpose to the kind man.

Down the hallway, you were surrounded by blue and white colours, with motivational words like Pride, Honour, and Courage written on the walls. And finally, you saw him standing there, chatting with his colleagues. You flashed Jason a warm smile as you approached, and he enveloped you in a tight hug.

“I’m so happy that you’re here,” he whispered softly.

“Me too,” you flashed him a gentle smile before he introduced you to his co-workers.

It felt good to be with him again. It had been far too long since you’d been in the same city, but now you were finally back together.

As the evening progressed, Jason showed you around the hockey arena. But it wasn’t until you had the chance to meet some of the players that your heart suddenly stopped.

There he was; the handsome stranger from yesterday. His blonde hair and cheeky smile were unmistakable. 

Then, he slowly walked towards you along with four other lads.

“Hey Jason,” one of them greeted.

“Hey guys,” Jason flashed them a great smile. “Y/n, let me introduce you to the Leafs' finest; Auston Matthews, Morgan Rielly, Mitch Marner, Max Domi, and William Nylander.”

You felt your heartbeat suddenly rising. Your palms became sweaty, and it felt harder to breathe. And you knew you had to avoid his piercing blue eyes in order to remain focused.

“Hi,” you finally managed to speak. However, as you greeted all of the guys, you couldn’t help but gulp when your hand met William’s.

He was still as handsome as yesterday, perhaps even more so in this lighting. His broad smile across his lips was enchanting, and his sweet voice rang like sweet music in your ear.

It almost felt as if there were sparks flying between you, cutting out everyone else as your eyes held onto each other for a little longer than they should.

But then Jason’s voice suddenly interrupted.

“Guys, this is Y/N – my girlfriend,” he introduced, and suddenly you felt William withdrawing completely, as the truth came out: You were already taken, and flirting wouldn’t do him any good.

**

But what William didn’t know was that your relationship with Jason had been hanging on a thin thread for a long time now.

You had been together for five years, committing to a serious relationship when you were just in your early twenties. However, the past two years had been nothing but suffering for both of you.

Frequent fights over every little detail, your mood swings making it unbearable to be around each other for too long, and his constant changes in work, including working overtime, left very little energy to maintain the romance in your relationship. But despite the struggles, as you had been together for so long, essentially growing into adulthood together, you weren't ready to let it go. Instead, you decided to spend some time apart.

So, when Jason got the job in Toronto as an account manager for the MLSE, you chose to stay back home, giving both of you the time needed to figure out the future of your relationship.

It hadn’t been easy. While you enjoyed the freedom of being by yourself, rediscovering who you truly were as an individual, you also longed for the togetherness. You missed having someone to come home to, to share every moment with, the good and the bad. You missed the intimacy, the amazing sex, and the touch of another man, dedicating himself to your pleasure. And Jason missed you just as much, if not more. He practically begged you to join him in Toronto, and eventually, you gave in, deciding to give your relationship another try.

Which initially, it seemed like a great idea.

But then you met William Nylander.

Without even knowing who he was, the Swedish hockey star had completely swept you off your feet. His smile and eyes had created a spark within you, making you question everything once again.

Did you truly miss Jason, or did you just miss the comfort of having someone else?

Jason was a great guy, at least to most people. A good friend, committed family person, and a hard worker for what he loved. He never forgot a birthday, always told you how much he loved you, and even bought flowers once in a while. In many ways, he was the perfect boyfriend.

However, over time, you felt the need for something more. He no longer made you feel those butterflies in your stomach out of excitement. The sex was still good, yet it became familiar and almost routine. When talking about the future, he always spoke of 'you' as a whole. However, for the past year, you couldn’t imagine any of those scenarios with him. Even though you dreamt of the same, he wasn’t the person in your dreams anymore.

Suddenly, you were replacing his face with other men. And now, it was William.

His blonde, sleeked-back hair and his laughter echoing through the halls were slowly taking up space in your mind. Every time you closed your eyes, you imagined his face. You could see his pink lips forming a smirk, his eyes glistening as you stood closely, almost close enough to touch each other.

And the more time you spent around the team, the more William occupied your thoughts.

You would see him almost every day for the following weeks after you'd met, especially when they were in Toronto playing home games. Despite having your remote work with you, allowing you to work from home, Jason’s work took up more time. And often, you found yourself at Baking Street or at the Scotiabank Arena with the Maple Leafs.

Every time you passed William in the hallway, you'd flash him a friendly smile, hoping not to give off any wrong signals. And every time he returned your smile. But you just couldn’t get him out of your head, and you knew it wasn’t right.

It felt so wrong that whenever Jason wanted to touch you, kiss you, and make love to you, you envisioned William instead of him. You wished for William’s hands on your skin, his body against your body, and his lips connected with yours. You wished he was the one to pleasure you, to be inside you as you felt the peak of an orgasm. It didn't even have to be romantic; all you wanted was to feel him instead of the man you shared a bed with. 

Though you often shared laughter and smiles with William in the group of players and managers, you were sure he'd forgotten all about you long ago.

Little did you know, ever since your small encounter, William had not been able to get you off his mind either. The way you looked so tired and sweet in the grocery store had made his heart flutter a little, and your soft giggles had resonated as a sweet melody.

But then you turned him down. Which first, he thought was just fine. Although he wasn’t exactly used to being the one to get a ‘no’ from a girl, he figured that’s just how it is when you take chances.

However, what truly shattered William's heart into smaller pieces was when he saw you the following day, with Jason’s arm around you and him introducing you as his girlfriend.

For the first time in his life, he felt fragile. Like you had every bit of control over him, and he could do nothing about it. He was captivated by you, there was no denying it.

And William knew it was wrong to think about you like that, to imagine that you’d break it off with Jason immediately just so he’d have a chance with you. To touch you, let his lips explore yours as he enveloped you and held you close. He wanted to feel your naked chest against his as he explored your body with his hands and tasted your sweet tongue on his. He wanted to make you moan out in pleasure as he let himself sink into your warmth and have you wrapped around him.

But he knew he couldn’t. Yet his mind kept forgetting to remind him that you were a bad idea.

Although he sensed that you weren’t truly happy. That was probably the worst part. If you were truly happy, you'd have said you had a boyfriend from the very beginning, not just 'someone'.

And he could see how you always tried to maintain a façade and a guard when you were around everyone. But you didn’t fool William. He saw right through you.

Your smile was fake, and your voice spoke in a tone that didn’t seem close to real – almost AI-created. The way you stood stiff next to Jason, not even reflecting a tiny amount of love, made William wonder why you’d waste your time with someone like him.

No, William knew these weren’t your true feelings. He’d seen just how gorgeous and wonderful your true smile was. He'd seen it on the very first night you ran into each other and then every time you were around the group of players and their significant others, and Jason wasn’t there because he was still working; that’s when your true colours were showing.

You didn’t love Jason.

**

Every moment around William was killing you. You were drawn to him like a magnet, and all you wanted was to run to him and tell him how you felt.

But you acted casual, almost like friends around each other and everyone else. Yet only a brief touch of your fingertips could make you both feel the sparks between you.

It was a slow form of torture, and for weeks, you walked up and down the corridors, seeing him shirtless after a game, and later having wet thoughts about him in the evening as you pleasured yourself.

But then one night, it became too much. You were watching the match from a few rows behind the players' bench, and your eyes kept following the number 88 on the ice, even when he wasn’t around the puck. You even forgot to cheer when the Leafs managed to score goals, and it wasn’t until the final buzzer sounded that you were snapped out of your trail of thoughts.

In the hallway, you forced yourself to smile and chat with the rest of the team's company. But in the back of your head, all you wanted was to congratulate William on the win. So, the moment you saw him, you couldn’t restrain yourself. It was like your body was running from your mind towards him.

In all of his equipment, William instinctively enveloped you and lifted you into his embrace. You wrapped your arms around him and met in a rushed, eager, and spontaneous brief kiss.

It was wrong, you knew that. Yet it felt so right.

His lips felt so good on yours, and you never wanted to untie from his arms. You wanted to freeze this moment and just enjoy him wrapped around you. And as he slowly put you back down, you let out a soft sigh.

“Sorry about that,” you chuckled a bit nervously, unsure how he felt about the kiss.

But William felt nothing but good. “You don’t have to be sorry, Y/N… you have no idea for how long I’ve wanted that.” His voice came out as a rough whisper, aware that no one around should hear him - in case they’d tell Jason.

Gazing up at him, his face a lot taller due to his skates, you couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Me too…” you softly admitted. But again, you had to force yourself out of the tender moment, and William left to finish up in the locker room. 

Not long after, you were all by yourself in the hallway as the players and their partners had left, and you were waiting for Jason to finish up for the night.

“What are you still doing here?” A voice behind you echoed in your ears, but it wasn’t the voice of your boyfriend. It was William.

Turning around, you faced his smug expression, your eyes again meeting and not able to pull away.

“I was just…” you softly muttered. You couldn’t even speak the words. You didn’t want to mention his name, not even think about him as you stood alone in front of William.

“Waiting for…” he continued your sentence, avoiding the name of the man you belonged to.

“Yes…”

A silent moment settled between you as your eyes remained locked, and William gently nodded.

“I should leave you alone then…”

But he didn’t move. He still stood before you, and you felt your heart beating faster, your pulse increasing.

“I don’t want you to leave me alone,” you whispered softly, yet loud enough for him to hear, a tear almost settling in the corner of your eye as guilt wanted to rush over you. But you ignored it.

“Me neither.”

And as William took slow strolls towards you, your mind raced, and your feet automatically moved in an attempt to meet him halfway. As soon as you came in close proximity, your breaths almost shared, you couldn’t control your own body’s behaviour. Like an instinct, you gently wrapped your hands around William’s neck as his found your waist, pulling each other in for another kiss. However, this time, it was deeper.

You let each other explore one another, your mouths sharing warmth as your tongues intertwined. You let yourself sink into his body, feeling him against you as his hands wandered further down, cupped your cheeks, and effortlessly hoisted you into his grip.

It felt so good. With every taste offered, you wanted more of him, and as he pressed your back against the wall, you felt his chest pressed against yours. You let your fingers run through his hair, all sense of guilt vanishing from your rational mind.

It was just wrong enough to make it feel right.

But you had to pull apart to refill your lungs with air, panting as you held your faces close.

“I’m sorry,” William chuckled lightly under his breath.

“Don’t be.”

The kiss with William had been nothing short of amazing. However, as you heard steps in the hallway, you swiftly disentangled and pulled away. Regret filled your mind, but not about the kiss - about the fact that you couldn’t do more because you had a boyfriend.

So, as soon as you got back to Jason’s apartment, you knew you had to address the subject, no matter if William wanted more or not. You couldn’t carry on in a relationship you weren’t devoted to.

**

The breakup hadn’t been really bad. Jason had almost seen it coming, given your distant behaviour. Though he was sure you’d tried, there was just no way you could save what had been between you, and he had to accept that.

Your only problem next was to find accommodation for the night. Jason had naturally offered you the guest room as the gentleman he was, but you felt more comfortable with checking into a hotel.

And just as you’d tossed yourself onto the queen-size bed, you decided to let William know. Maybe he cared, maybe he didn’t, but just as he’d taken a chance on you, you wanted to take a chance on him as well.

‘It’s over – Jason and I are over.’

A simple text, but the message was clear.

Only a few minutes later, you heard your phone vibrate.

‘Where are you?’

Without hesitation, you texted him the name of your hotel.

‘I’m coming over – is that ok?’

‘Yes, of course.’

It didn’t take long before William let you know he was nearby. And it was as if a spark within you felt like you were in a romantic movie or something, so you jumped out of bed, ran down the four floors, and practically jumped out of the front doors. You didn’t care about it raining; it fitted the idea of a movie scene perfectly, especially when you saw the familiar face of the handsome Swede.

Both walking determinedly towards each other, you almost fell into his arms as he wrapped them around your body, and once again connected you in a deep heartfelt kiss.

You couldn’t help but giggle at how dramatic it all seemed. Pulling apart, you shared a laughter, both completely soaked by the pouring rain.

“Willy,” you spoke softly, with a great smile across your lips. 

“I know, baby,” William chuckled. “Finally.”

[blockmenmakemecry]

HERES SOME MORE OF MY INSANE RAMBLINGS FOR THIS AU

Grian used to be apart of a smaller gang called Bad boys, the trio ending their small crime spree due to the injury and near death of Jimmy(whose code name was Tim/Timmy)

Impulse and skizz came as a duo having spent most of their lives together doing petty robbery (convenience stores/five finger discounts are a speciality of Impulses)

Skizz is very much the talker of the two, he would talk to ear off the cashier haphazardly waving the gun around while he talked to them asking them nicely to "be a sweetheart and put the money in the bag won't cha" or chatting to them about the rise in gas prices while Impulse was quick to discount the items they needed for the week

Scar or just Mr.Goodtimes as he was known before he joined GIGS was a seasoned hit man, hired to get rid of people if you had the cash to back it up. Sometimes he would take other things in trade for his services. Depending on what the target had done, some clients didn't pay at all.

Gigs has some extra crew members behind the scenes

Mumbo was hired to take care of the tech side of things, often listening in on their communicators to make sure they knew the layout of the heist locations and to update them should someone notify the police to their presence early.

Mumbo tried to join them for a heist in person but unfortunately the lanky mf is a bit too anxious for this line of work and sticks to staying on his side of the communicator

Gem has a background in medical having worked as a full time nurse in the ER before quitting and falling into the hands of GIGS

She was being over worked and underpaid so when she was offered a gig with GIGS through a mutual friend(pearl) she took it surprisingly quickly, they treated and paid her better anyways.

Pearl is a runner, shes constantly running around different jobs when she's needed. Something about not liking being tied down to a singular group.

Bdubs!!! Bdubs, cleo and Etho run the black market on guns and explosives.

Sometimes when making deals with them Grian swears he saw gunpowder on Bdubs face like hes been eating it. Mumbo often accompanies GIGS members to these trade deals, it still makes him anxious but he likes the trip out and getting to talk to them is always a nice change of pace.

[nonsensical-pixels]

yay, another lot finished up for redbud bay! this is the home of the first lesbian couple i had in this 'hood: doctor aoife kramer (named after @oceansmotion) and her wife, schoolteacher ivory moore. they also have an adopted son, harald, who may soon be getting a baby sibling this round!

the original lot was alisomar, 3t2'd by @danies-simsational-blog, but i pretty much completely rebuilt the exterior, changed the layout, and of course redecorated everything. went on a big t$r 'old cc' shopping spree recently too and got a bunch of new furniture to try out 🤞🏽

Exterior

the backyard is the only thing that i mostly left untouched, i just moved a couple of plants around and added a garden for ivory 💚

Interior

doc aoife has her own medical research office i guess, and the couple also has a cat named tabitha. i put up a bunch of little kiddie decorations since ivory wants another baby.

Floorplans

still not sure what i'll do with the upstairs, i'll probably move harald up there when they adopt the new baby

Bonus Pics

have tabitha the cat. best kitty ever 10/10 on the cat scale

[esotheria-sims]

Time to show off those new rooms! First up: the nursery!

Man, all that pink. Right on cue for the Barbie movie premiere. You bet Rosalind was the one who picked the color scheme! 😆

This room was challenging to decorate, but in a fun way. I fell in love with the pink deer rug and built the entire nursery around it, even going as far as recoloring K8′s Mere Folly set to match it. Then I went on a cc-hunting spree for toys and other kid-related knick-knacks because the ‘Child’ section in my game was sorely lacking. Gotta fill all that space somehow! This kid's going to be spoiled rotten.

Bonus floorplan pic. I only now realized that I took it before I did my nursery recolors, but the layout hasn't changed so w/e, it's still accurate.

[drinkinboilingcoffee]

Absolutely wrecked by this weather (keeps jumping between 90 degrees and pouring) and have nothing to do so might as well write some William headcanons eh? Pulls out massive stack of note papers organized like a psychiatric file (Trigger warning: Mentions of mental illness and distress (including disordered eating and attempted suicide), canon-typical violence, and substance abuse)

-William raised the kids alone for a while after Clara passed before later co-parenting with Henry (that’s definitely totally absolutely all that is just two single dudes living in the same house and raising their kids together and sharing a bed) -Henry was behind the idea for the animatronics, but William did most of the business and finance management to get it up and running. He was also in charge of more of the small design components (like springlocks and facial recognition) while Henry did the main bodywork. -The springlock failure happened in front of a crowd 1982 (a few days shy of a year before fnaf 4). The incident was a suicide attempt by William, though he had Henry make sure that was left out of the official report. He doesn’t talk about that time much. -The springlocks actually mostly blinded him- it’s recovered enough he can see blurs and outlines of color but can’t legally drive or anything (he still does, this man will drive drunk and blind and not even notice if he hits someone) He has had the layout of the pizzeria memorized, and he has a pretty good directional sense, so a lot of people don’t even realize it until he has to read something. -He’s actually a really good writer but absolutely refuses to show anyone his work -William’s murder spree and remnant experimentation was spawned from an attempt to bring Evan back to life, but in truth he had no idea what remnant was when he killed Charlie- he did that in a fit of rage and discovered remnant as a result. -He loves cooking, but barely eats enough (he’ll go days without doing so and not even realize until someone points it out) -Drunk driving ass. Was actually closer to being imprisoned for that than being caught for the murders.

[oh-saints]

PLEASEE PLease PLEASE more ruben fics i need more so im just gonna leave a request where — ruben and a shy reader?? like she doesnt really opens up to anyone unless they're close🙏

what the hell, anon??? do we share the same brain bcs i literally just thought of it when my bf was watching harold and kumar (i know, incomprehensive taste) beside me and there's an elevator scene that inspires me to go about my favourite this trope!!!

open

you really shouldn't judge the book by its cover, rúben learnt from her, and should instead try to open the first page. for you never know what the next page might bring.

rúben dias x neighbor!reader

word count: 2.9k

tw: speech impairment

note: hi, i'm back! beside the harold & kumar's elevator scene, this is also mildly inspired by blackpink's hard to love and katy perry's unconditional teheee but this time, i happen to write during work so ofc this is not beta-read.

today had been one hell of a day for rúben dias. nothing worked in his favour; his SUV broke down before he departed for training, resulting him arriving late and therefore scolded by pep. his team lost in the mini match, he had to stay late for the rehab because his physio-in-charge had a stomach bug.

he sighed, and anyone within distance would’ve recognised the heavy weight on the breath he let out.

he just wanted to lay down as soon as possible, to be honest. he didn’t even think of dining anymore, and that was saying something because he was known—and he stood by his principle—for being a straight-A athlete. he lives and breathes football and he intends to stick by his commitment as long as life allows him to.

just before the elevator doors closed, a hand dived in between the doors’ gap. precise movement, as fast as a ninja cut, but halting his final destination, nonetheless. why couldn’t whoever-it-was catch the next train?

but as the door opened once more, a woman walked in, heads down. ah, there she is, rúben only realised the current time had reached 7 p.m. because this particular, intriguing woman would always come up at this hour without a miss. and she’d always have her head down, not glancing anyone else in the elevator, let alone the usual neighbour greetings.

he wasn’t supposed to notice her; she looked like she’d rather blend herself to the wall. but he did. her paleness contrasted the bright modern layout of the posh apartment’s elevator, along with the lives the capsule brought up and down.

the footballer pressed for her floor before she could reach the button, as usual.

she’d look up to him in wonder—with her set of the clearest eyes rúben had ever seen yet he never knew what lied beneath the surface, and only the depths of the mediterranian sea reminded him of it—as he did so, as usual.

“12, right?”

she gave a tight smile that rúben somehow understood as her silent thank you and a nod, before going as far away as sparing the 3-feet distance between them. as usual.

sometimes he wondered why she cut off their interaction as cold as the iceberg ended the lives onboard on titanic. was she nervous? was it that hard for her to answer him? was he that hard to approach?

was she a criminal of some sort that was busy hiding in order for the police to not catch her?

he’d watched in one of those real-life cold-cases documentaries he loves to use as a lullaby that coldness, aloofness, detachment or anything in line could be an indicator. whether they felt guilty after committing their crime, whether they wanted to hide away their worldly sins, whether they’re pure psychotic that they’d do a random killing spree one night for fun.

rúben badly wanted to convince himself that she wasn’t of his last depiction but he remembered what happened to ted bundy’s victim—may they rest in peace. he’d have to search for a good opportunity after calling a private investigator or something.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

another evening, another elevator ride with the same neighbour of his.

another day of him pressing for her floor, another day of her giving him a curt nod before backing herself up against the corner.

it was supposed to be another day for them, and rúben was more than ready to hit the sack. but life truly had its way for a plot twist even a blockbuster movie didn’t see coming.

being a footballer that had to stay alert of possibly everything, rúben opened his eyes as he heard a heavy intake of breath from somewhere on his right. a sound he never heard of, a sound he was most certainly had to have a double take to make sure his hearing wasn’t damaged.

he watched as she opened her mouth for a second before closing them again, certainly wanting to say something. then she took a moment of silent, possibly to rearrange what she was about to say. once she was done—or what he though was done, anyway—her mouth started to form a small O before slamming shut after five seconds. her head was shaking following another cancelled thought, and rúben swore he could practically feel the frustration she was exuding.

it reminded him of his old self, before the whole PR team back in benefica took over the wheel and taught him what and how to say things. so instead of being annoyed at her, rúben gave her space and time until she was ready. thank god he was towering the woman, who wasn’t small in general but still small compared to him, so she couldn’t see his repressed smile because weirdly enough, he found her endearing instead of infuriating like anyone else he was frustrated with.

“c-c-c-can you help me w-w-w-with something?”

the words slurred out of her voice box before her eyes could find the man that was all familiar to her but a stranger altogether. when she realised he’d been staring at her—at her disorganised self, that was pretty obvious—her head snapped back lightly in mild surprise. who wasn’t, when a beautiful man of that calibre had been staring at you?

but it actually wasn’t why rúben couldn’t keep his eyes off her. stunned would also be an understatement to describe what was happening underneath his skin.

yes, he was astounded by the fact that the neighbour that had been spiking his interest was finally talking to him. no more reserved, small smile she used to throw at him every other chance they’d been interacting. and she was finally looking up at him instead of darting her attention elsewhere whenever they shared the small confinement of an elevator.

but he was more surprised at the fact that he recognised she wasn’t simply nervous around him. he’d been around too many people to be able to spot on nerves shooting up one’s legs. what he sensed around her was a completely different, entirely new altogether.

and above all, the question that remained hanging on top of his head was; why now?

why did it take her a long while to finally muster up all the courage to spare him a glance, moreover to strike up a conversation first?

rúben couldn’t help his initial reaction of raising his brows, as if he was sceptical to the reality he was undergoing, instead of replying back. his response was met with her flashing what he recognised as regret before she looked away and shut her mouth again. and he knew he fucked up; she’d thought he was challenging her, speak one more time and you’re dead.

it wasn’t what he intended to come of as. he was simply tired of constantly fighting for his place at training, and the shock in his system hadn’t washed off since she’d dared herself to indulge him in the luxury of a conversation.

“yes, i’d like to help,” rúben spoke up before any misunderstanding took place between them, eyes were still zeroed on the woman. only then he took on her overall appearance, for they’d never been this close, and by god was she beautiful. “what do you need my help for?”

the woman looked up again to him, hopeful this time and no longer distressed, before biting her lips in a little bit of hesitance. not because of nervousness, he realised, but it was simply because she didn’t know where to start again.

and again, rúben waited for her patiently. hell, he’d waited on her far too long—even for something as simple as this—so he could certainly wait for some more.

he watched her as she opened and closed her mouth several times again—this time rúben was positive she was trying to rearrange whatever it was she wanted to say to him—before casting another glance up to him. and this time, nervousness was palpable in her face. weariness, too, and rúben couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sight.

(although he tried to hypnosis himself that he smiled to ease off her jitters.)

this seemed to relax the tensed shoulders of hers. “i-i-i-i need help t-t-t-to change my lamp.”

bingo.

every of his remaining suspicion was now struck down, only leaving him with the answers to all of his silent question.

he’d guess on she wasn’t mute. if she was, she’d have to suffer from deafness, too, or at least hearing impairment, and she wouldn’t be able to interact with people without her hearing aid. of which, was non-existent as far as rúben’s peripheral vision might go.

he’d guess on she was a selective mute, this much was also spot on. what his shot strayed on was how she chose to be mum not because she’d killed someone, but because she was unable to.

all the sudden, rúben got reminded of one particular kid he’d gotten fortunate enough to meet during city’s annual christmas hospital visit. it was like yesterday when the kid said thank you endlessly that day before the day ended, for listening attentively without rushing the kid to speak clearly and fluently. at first rúben was surprised how that was enough of a reason for the abundance of gratitude thrown at him, but later he realised that everyone else had reached their boiling point while waiting for the kid to finish his broken sentences.

only then did he realise his mysterious neighbour was only doing whatever best under her limited condition to survive without hindering anyone else’s life.

she must’ve practiced silence for such a long time now, and for reasons such as survival mode in this cruel world where her condition is deemed a shame. where people would rather not hear her kind to speak because they were slow at it, and would rather belittle something she surely didn’t ask for when she was born.

how wrong of him to assume she was a criminal on a runaway.

“sure, have you bought the light bulb already?”

she nodded, lips still pursed tightly, before rolling her eyeballs up towards the ceiling. upstairs, he’d gathered.

“excellent,” this time, admiration and respect was the reason behind his enormous smile. “lead the way.”

he really should stop watching too many crime documentaries on netflix.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

as soon as she was done showing her neighbour his temporary place of work, she dashed for the fridge. she was perched, for lack of words, because it’d been a long while since the last time she had to wreck her brain for a simple, humane interaction.

ironic because it was imprinted in every human’s brain that they are a social figure, thus needing to interact with other people. ironic because her line of work required her to interact with people on a daily basis, even though she was hidden behind the magic screen of a computer.

she hadn’t realised up until now how much grateful she was to the silver screen, for she didn’t have to disclose the one thing she detested about herself. for it hid her from the harsh reality she was bound to have due to her condition. for it saved her from the judgemental looks people would throw at her.

she was sure she was content with her life, bar the defect in her DNA, so why did she decide, of all day today, that she needed his help for such a simple task?

right, because she didn’t have a ladder and forgot to buy one on her way back home.

but she could’ve gone back outside to the store on the corner of the street instead of asking the one neighbour she had always seen after a long day of working. she could’ve asked anyone else but him. the security guard, the firefighter—anyone else that was in the line of work to help people, not him.

especially not him, when it meant she would bare herself open to someone she barely knew outside the fact that he was tall and smelled so damn fresh like he just washed himself after a long day of swimming in the sea water. especially not him, when it meant her old disease of stuttering would come back haunting her every time she was nervous.

and god, was she nervous. how could she not when he looked like the closest thing to adonis if such figure descended mount olympus?

but still, despite all, why did she still choose to uncover the grounds she was content on burying herself with?

was it his eyes? was it because she grew accustomed to his silent presence in the elevator? was it because she recognised no hint of judgement exuding from him when she let out the secret she least loved to reveal?

“it’s done,” the man was seriously done with work, by the way he was back donning his brick red coats. a lovely colour to his skin, she realised. another point plus, she also noted, for a man to know well how to dress. “is there anything else you need help with?”

her apartment was fairly large, especially when she only lived here on her own, but with him in the room, it felt small all the sudden. but not the suffocating kind of small, just that the space turned to be full with his presence. but instead of feeling intimidated, she felt welcomed.

weird because this was her house, her abode, her home. yet she was the one who felt welcomed instead of the other way around.

“um—n-n-no. i’m sorry again if i disturb your time, being busy and all,” it surprised her that it only took a grand total of 30 minutes of interaction for her—physically and mentally, she noted—to feel ease around him, which was apparent by the lack of stutters and was now replaced by the signature ummm everyone likes to have at the beginning of her sentences. “but i was hoping if i—um—can repay you after doing me a favour?”

“you really don’t need—”

the man shook his head as he shifted his weight to his other leg. the movement felt so natural, like he belonged here, and it dizzied her head because this was starting to feel unrealistic. there was no way she could warm up so easily to a good-looking guy that dressed well and smelled excellent and acted like those boyfriends you only see on novel books.

and for the love of god, did she love the smell lingering in the air from his perfume. it was intoxicating, as if he himself in flesh and blood didn’t stir headaches for anyone with vagina walking down the street. yet she craved for more, making her not wanting him to leave the perimeter of her house. like he’d permeated the space and marked it no longer hers.

funny how the concept of being close had a different meaning now to her, literally and figuratively. she really shouldn’t have opened the door to her home.

it honestly caught her off guard when he showed his initial reaction. she’d mastered the art of being rejected by people who i) think she’s a freak, ii) think she’s useless, iii) think she’s a hassle, iv) think she’s frustrating as she can’t get words straight to the point, and/or v) all of the above. the better part of her condition was also double-edged sword; when people think of her as a charity case, for it was only then when people understood her limitation.

being unfazed with her disability—there, that’s the word—was definitely something rare in her world.

must be the eyes, she convinced herself, because she knew deep down it didn’t take einstein to deduct the real reason behind her unpredictable habit of opening up to this man—whose name she still hadn’t figured out—was her very last justification.

after days of observation, she somehow managed to conclude he wasn’t the type to blabber his mouth somewhere else about the embarrassing neighbour that sounded ridiculous whenever she spoke. he was the type to keep everything to himself, unless he was allowed to or unless the government made him to. for that alone, it was enough of a reason for her to come out of the shell she’d been hiding under, no matter how insane it sounded because they didn’t know each other’s name.

for she knew she could be herself and he wouldn’t mind at all.

“p-p-please,” another breather because goddamn, this is a lot to take in. “i—um—i insist.”

“okay, if you say so,” his head tipped lightly at her admission, lips slowly tugging a smirk out of its hiding place. satisfaction plastered on his face and she swore she could’ve been melting on the floor if she wasn’t holding the edge of the kitchen counter. and still, strangely enough, she wouldn’t mind him seeing her turning into a puddle. “i’m allowed to take you out for a dinner then.”

of all things he could say to reply her goodwill request, a dinner wasn’t in the list of her prediction.

“w-w-why?”

it didn’t take a genius to know it was the multi-million loaded question; why me?

and this was precisely why rúben asked her out in the first place because in rúben’s defence, why not?

why not her? was there anything wrong with her?

did she believe something’s wrong with her when he found her perfectly interesting?

“because i like you and i’d like to know you better,” her eyes shot up so fast at his admission, indescribable disbelief glazed over the set of orbs rúben for sure would like to stare all night long if he had the chance. “if you’ll let me, that is, of course.”

who was she to deny when he asked to come in to her home so nicely like that?

[no-thoughts-only-soup]

To Secure/Risk it all

Chapter 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

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

They were running. Running and shooting. Running and shooting while Curt narrated it all.

“Christian shoots the three guards in front of us while Den chucks a knife at the guy coming from the right, and Ivan— SHIT!”

Curt ducked around the corner, bullets blazing past where he’d been a second ago.

Fuck, this was harder than he thought. Then again, usually when he was narrating there was no pressure or incoming danger, much less running around. This was far worse than a regular scenario. Simply narrating the enemies away didn’t work either; turns out that outside interference wasn’t controllable like their made-up mooks they usually sicced on each other. And that meant no Thanos-snapping them away. The only thing he could do was use his power to allow his friends to go on a killing spree.

“Curt? A bit of help here!” Ivan shouted, pointing at another set of guards running towards them.

Pushing aside his thoughts, Curt focused. “Ivan shoots the first guy, he explodes and takes out the rest.”

Ivan did, but then immediately turned around and frowned at Curt. “Wait how? Do the guards here just carry explosives around or something?”

Christian laughed heartily. “We’re literally getting shot at and Ivan’s all like ‘wait that’s not realistic’.”

“Wait, wait! Can I have a bazooka?” Kristine loudly asked.

“Fuck it, sure. Kristine pulls out a bazooka and blasts the guys Ivan shot at; making them explode.”

“YEAAHHHHHHH!” She whooped as a large bazooka materialized in her hands and then took a shot at more guards.

“Now we’re talking.” Den smirked. “Gimme me one next.”

Before he could, though, Den’s eyes widened and she suddenly grabbed his wrist, pulling him around the corner. Christian took down a few more guards and they all started running again.

Damn, he really should’ve let Den narrate. Not only did he continuously have to narrate everything to keep their powers working, but he and Kristine were the only ones with any knowledge of the facility’s layout. And Kristine was too busy playing shooting gallery with the guards. Meaning he was the only one to guide them at the moment.

“Den, uh, mows down the guys in front, Ivan takes — oh god — down the ones from the right. Kristine — shit — blasts behind her—“

Suddenly, Christian and Ivan pushed him down behind a few conveniently placed crates — and bullets rained above them.

“Yo Curt, got a plan?” Christian yelled above the loud noises. “Cuz I doubt we’re gonna make it running around like this!”

Curt hissed as a bullet flew by a bit too close for his liking. “Front gate gotta be packed, but I was hoping to get to the garage anyways. If we can get a truck…”

“Curt, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re getting pinched from all sides here!” Ivan snarkily remarked, arms coiled around his gun. Not that there was an opening to shoot back.

“Kristine, if I focus on keeping us alive, can you guide us to the garage?” Curt asked her, pressing himself down to the ground as the wall behind them slowly started whittling down, showering them with bits of brick, plaster and other kinds of debris. “You also know where the garage is, right?”

Kristine stared blankly at him. “Uhhhhhh…”

“KRISTINE!”

Christian cut between the two of them. “Ok, not to be a party pooper, but even if we do that, we don’t know if they’re guarding that too. We could be walking into an ambush for all we know.”

Curt paused, thought, and sighed. “You’re right. We’ve got no clue on where to go. Ugh, if only one of us could scout ahead, but they’d get shot instantly…”

Suddenly, Den waved her arm, grabbing their attention, all while smiling widely. “Wait, wait! Let me stab Ivan!”

“Den! Now’s not the time!” Ivan protested. “Can you pause your murder hobo tendencies for one second?”

“No, no, I actually have a good reason this time!” Den grinned, waiting in her explanation for Christian and Kristine to finish firing back at the guards when they reloaded, and finally returning to save cover. “If one of us dies in a scenario, they become a ghost, right? So if I kill Ivan, he can go through the walls and scout ahead!”

They all paused, letting the words sink in. And then they fell into a cacophony of agreements.

“Wait, actually…”

“YES! YES!”

“Oh damn, she’s cooking.”

It even swayed Ivan’s stance as he shuffled closer to her. “Alright, not gonna lie, that’s a good argument. Ok, stab me Den. Stab me like one of your French girls.”

And as they all giggled, an idea popped into Curt’s head, and he smiled devilishly.

“Actually, wait.” He interrupted them. “I’ve got a better idea…”

Ivan raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Curt grinned, and he could almost see the chill running up Ivan’s spine. “Remember how you saw SCP-096’s — the Shy Guy’s — face? Which triggers him?”

Ivan was silent for a whole 5 seconds, slowly processing what Curt said. Until it clicked.

“Oh wait, OH SHIT!”

“Close your eyes!” Curt yelled at the rest of them as his squeezed his eyes shut. “The Shy Guy bursts through the wall…”

And just as he said, there was a large noise as the wall behind them practically blew up, and Ivan screamed.

Ivan’s gonna kill me later for this. “…And KILLS Ivan!”

His words were followed by an inhuman screech. A second later, a bloodcurdling and sickening crunch of bones being violently broken. Curt could feel a warm liquid splatter onto his face. It tasted like iron.

The noises fell to a brief, chilling silence. Silence that was broken by panicked screaming and shooting a distance away. Another terrifying screech, and just like Curt predicted, the squad of guards that had been firing at them were audibly slaughtered.

But he still kept his eyes closed. He still couldn’t risk it. And he kept them closed as the sounds of the beast slowly started getting farther and farther away.

Ivan’s voice rang out. “You guys can look, it’s gone.”

And while it was an exercise of trust, Curt did indeed open his eyes. And winched upon seeing Ivan’s mangled corpse.

“Damn he really did a number on ya.” Christian offhandedly remarked, though Curt could sense the shock creeping in his voice.

“Yeah, I need to step up my stabbing game after this.” Den noted, eyes wide.

“Wait,” Kristine suddenly piped up “if we all turn into ghosts, why don’t we just kill each other and float out of here?”

Curt winced. He had thought about that option. Ever since he found out about the truth. It seemed like a good idea. But there was an issue…

“We don’t know how the resurrection works exactly. We come back to life, yeah, but what if that means we return to our bodies? If we leave them behind, that just means we’re literally handing ourselves to the foundation.”

Christian groaned. “Aw man, that means we gotta drag Ivan’s corpse around.”

Den chuckled. “He’s literally dead weight.”

They all laughed at that, and although they couldn’t tell because of the sunglasses, they knew Ivan was rolling his eyes at them. “Whatever, not my problem anymore.”

Curt rolled his eyes back at him. “Go scout already.”

And Ivan huffed for a split second before flying through the wall. Curt narrated how they stuffed Ivan’s corpse into a backpack (a pink one with rainbows, of course) which Den volunteered to carry. Curt noted how the weight of a whole body didn’t seem to hinder her, until he reminded himself of the reality warping powers and put it to rest.

The sounds of footsteps suddenly got louder, and they booked it.

It would have been nice if Ivan could warn them ahead, Curt mused. But it was more important to know whether or not there was an escape route.

“Just how big is this place?” Den complained as she turned yet another corner.

“To be honest I never paid any attention to the map.” Kristine confessed. She briefly turned around and shot one of the guards that were chasing after them.

Christian copied her. “Curt?”

“I dunno man,” Curt panted as he tried to work out the best route “I’m starting to think they gave me a false map.”

“And why are there so many guards!?” Kristine yelled as the two she shot were quickly replaced. “Seriously I don’t remember there being this many!”

“Let’s focus on surviving until Ivan returns!” Curt half-yelled, though in the back of his mind, a small voice wondered if they could.

They were suddenly stopped when a broadcast screen lightened up. It showed a bit of static before the screen turned white, with a single black arrow pointing down the hallway.

Curt’s brain broke for a moment, but he didn’t get time to gather himself, as Kristine grabbed his hand and pulled him to that same hallway.

“Wait!” He yelled after her. “Why are we following that?”

“Because they’re helping us, duh!” She yelled back.

Curt pulled his hand from her grasp, but he kept running with the group. “And you’re just gonna trust some random ass monitor!?”

“Well, if it’s the same person who helped us last time, we can trust them, right?” Den pointed out.

“AND WHAT IF THEY AREN’T!?” Curt yelled back. “AM I THE ONLY ONE NOT TRUSTING THIS!?”

But they still ran, and as the last word left Curt’s lips, another monitor lightened up, though this one did not display an arrow. Instead, it showed them a message:

- Curt has the right emotion, find the room that belongs to it.

Beat.

“BITCH IS THERE A DISTRUST ROOM!? ONLY SANE PERSON ROOM!?”

But Christian and Den looked at each other. “Panic room.” They nodded.

And Curt… sighed. “Well, you’re not wrong…”

“Besides,” Christian smirked, “you really think we’re gonna get anywhere with Kristine at the front and Ivan scouting ahead.”

“Hey!”

“Nah, you got a point.” Curt conceded, also realizing everyone was getting tired. “Alright, you know the way Kristine?”

“Yes! I know some things you know!”

And they laughed as they ran, Kristine guiding them. Something tugged in the back of Curt’s mind, but it was to preoccupied by keeping everyone alive to see what it was. Only when they neared the panic room was it that Curt mentally paused, and his eyes widened.

“Guys, wait! We can’t go in! If we do we’ll be trapped like-“

But they already barged inside, dragging Curt with them, Den slamming the door shut the second everyone was in.

“…rats.” Curt sighed.

A ghostly form took their attention, shrugging. “Well, all the exits are packed, so we’re stuck here anyways.” Ivan noted. Although he said it nonchalantly, there was an tense undertone in his voice.

Kristine raised an eyebrow. “You got here quick.”

“Remember the same weirdo from the last SCP shenanigans? They told me to come to the panic room.”

“And they didn’t use a riddle?” Den questioned, until the obvious zinger got her to grin.

Christian beat her to the punch. “Of course not, Ivan wouldn’t have figured that shit out!”

Kristine and Den laughed with Christian, with Ivan pouting at them. Even Curt could feel a chuckle bubbling up from his throat, but the severity of the situation prevented him from laughing outright. They were trapped. At any moment, the foundation, no, Snee and his goons would figure out where they were. They were ripe for picking.

At that moment, just in time to stop him from having another panic attack, one of the computer screens lit up. And before their eyes, words were typed on the screen.

- Good! You’re all here!

“Dude, who even are you?” Ivan asked. “Are you with the foundation or not?”

The computer screen trilled unexpectedly, almost reminiscent of laughter.

- Come on Ivan, I know you’re not the smartest ಥ‿ಥ

The emoji caught Curt off guard, but the person started typing again.

- But did you really forget about me that quickly? (✪㉨✪)

And it hit Curt like a truck.

…No. It’s impossible.

“…Chilly?”

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

Note: I don't end chapters based on word count. I end them on how much of punch the cliffhanger is.

[tomorrowillbeyou]

Wake up i miss u ☹️

HIIIIIIIII u were in my dream.. in my dream u enlisted me to run music & catering for a giant outdoor party of like 1000 people who would all sit on this big stage So i started knuckling down and writing stuff out and planning where i would get stuff and planning some really delicious pasta dishes and then i came up to u to ask how many people exactly would be there and what my budget would be and u said Oh no its fine don't worry im just going to use ai mr beast dj & meal designer and you can just set them up on the day. ajd i was devastated. so day of everyone was arriving but i was still a little sad so i went to a shop nearby that was super labyrinthine and escherian in its layout and sold books dvds cds perfumes guns and cool spiders (under the brand Alpha Spider) and also dogs there was one called bunny that i thought was going to be a spider so i was excited to buy it but it was actually a dog.... Anyway i went on a shopping spree and bought like a trillion things and kept going round and round buying more stuff. and then i saw u at the cafe next door and u were like ryan wtf. sorry for neglecting my duties ☹️

[fandom-trash-goblin]

relevant links!

daily clicks for palestine

donate to feed refugees in rafah

spreadsheet of gofundmes to evacuate families

fundraiser for esims for gaza

orgs to donate to

if you still feel hesitant about where to donate, consider donating to Mohammed Alanqer, husband to Enas Majed and father to 4 children, one of them newborn.

As of 24/9/24, they've reached €60,268 raised of €70,000 goal. they're very close!!

NOW, onto other things->

HI, I go by Isaac! Welcome to fandom-trash-goblin, where i do my best to tag stuff. You'll find many, many, many fandoms here <3. Including, but not limited to SVSSS, MDZS, ORV, other Danmei, some random books i'm reading, BBC Merlin, ASOIAF, HOTD and tonnes of other fandoms that come on my dashboard, i really can't recall.

Tell me if you need something tagged, usually i tag triggering stuff like sexual abuse, rape, child abuse etc. I don't believe in censoring these words, sorry. FORMAT-> #tw (stuff to be warned for)

If you're having a not so nice day, check out #advice for a bad day. people on tumblr can be really wise sometimes. somewhere between ao3 worship and slash shipping.

Few other of my favourite tags here -> 1. #lovely stuff, #funny stuff 2. #stories 3. #fave 4. #tumblr ; #how to tumblr ; #tumblr archive 5. #internet; #firefox; #tech stuff.

Here, I should tell you that you will come across posts that preach about our lord and saviour Firefox. I am a firm believer.

I have a tendency to like, and put reblog posts in my queue, so unless you have a message declaring not to do so on your blog, you will find me in your notifications, most of which will be queued instead of immediately reblogged unless there's like a poll, or fundraiser and the like.

As a rule, I don't reblog personal posts unless they've got more than 25 notes, and if i really, really need to, I'll send an ask or a message. After 25 notes, it's free game.

Still, feel free to tell me not to browse further, and also if you want me to delete any posts, i promise to do so if it's reasonable.

I also immediately follow any/all gimmick blogs, people with interesting (fandom or otherwise) URLs, and also people who comprehensively tag everything, which is how i find blogs and posts I'd never come across otherwise.

Adding to that i follow people who have pretty tags and cool commentary!

Again, feel free to reach out to me and ask me not to, because i often don't see DNIs in a spree.

If you're here for the webweaves, check out the tag #*mine: graphics. I don't post them often, but eh.

If you're here from AO3, go to @yitzvah, it's where you'll get update if any !!!

LAYOUT: ICON Credit to @/nemfrog, on this post, and Header Credit to @/girasois, from this post

BIGOTS, RACISTS, SUPREMACISTS, XENOPHOBES, (Gender/Sex)-PHOBES really not welcome. Feel free to turn back, and especially don't tag/comment your rhetoric on posts reblogged/written by me, I WILL AND I ALREADY HAVE BLOCKED & REPORTED SEVERAL PEOPLE.

cheers, have a nice day <3

[pttwice]

good morning good afternoon good evening, am here to request a baby nayeon, regression at a mall in America while shopping with Jeong and ends up exploring the toys section/lego section and going to the malls play area

howdy howdy anon :) absolutely! i think it’d be a cute little shopping date for them & jeong would lowkey end up getting more excited about the legos than nayeon lol

shopping spree

|| little!nayeon, cg!jeongyeon ||

Deciding to spend their free time doing some shopping, Jeongyeon and Nayeon headed to the mall. They had been to a few malls in America before, but this one was pretty big and seemed to have a lot of high end stores.

The two took a quick look at all the stores just to get a general layout of everything before they went into anywhere specific. Jeongyeon was mainly window shopping while Nayeon was picking out expensive handbags and accessories.

By the time they had been shopping for an hour, Jeongyeon noticed Nayeon was slowing down a bit. She wasn't as excited about going into the Louis Vuitton store even though it was one of her favorites to visit. Jeongyeon just followed Nayeon around for a few minutes as the oldest half heartedly picked up a few bags.

When they exited the store, Nayeon turned and looked up at Jeongyeon, a pout on her face. Based on the way Nayeon's expressions seemed softer and the way she was clinging onto Jeongyeon's arm, she had regressed.

Just to make sure, Jeongyeon sat Nayeon down on the bench with her to take a break from walking. Jeongyeon pulled her phone out and handed it to Nayeon, pulling up one of the matching games Nayeon loved to play whenever she regressed.

Nayeon's eyes gravitated towards the game as she took Jeongyeon's phone, fully engrossed in the game for at least 10 minutes. Jeongyeon just watched over Nayeon's shoulder, a chuckle escaping her whenever Nayeon would lose a life.

Once Nayeon finished the game, Jeongyeon took her phone back and reached her hand out to hold onto Nayeon's. Nayeon just looked down at Jeongyeon's hand and pouted, holding her arms up.

"I'm sorry, bunny, but mama can't carry you. I've already got a few bags I have to carry."

Nayeon whined and crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at Jeongyeon like she just told her she wasn't getting a Christmas present.

Jeongyeon playfully rolled her eyes and adjusted the bags in her hand, still holding her free hand out. "How about we go check out the toy stores and you can pick out two toys you want?"

At this, Nayeon's eyes lit up. She excitedly nodded and grabbed ahold of Jeongyeon's hand, dragging her mama to the first toy store she could find.

They walked into a stuffed animal store and even though Nayeon had a million stuffies, Jeongyeon couldn't say no to her baby. They walked around a bit, Nayeon oohing and aahing at every stuffy she saw. They were all so cute and she wanted them all, but she knew her mama said she could only have two toys.

The second Nayeon picked up a fluffy, white stuffed bunny and rubbed it against her cheek, she knew it was the one she wanted. Excitedly, she turned around and showed it to Jeongyeon. "Dis one! I like dis one!" Jeongyeon laughed when Nayeon rubbed the bunny's body against her face, but she had to admit. It was pretty soft.

With the bunny tucked safely under Nayeon's arm — she refused to keep it in the shopping bag — they headed to the Lego store. In all honesty Jeongyeon was the one who wanted to go to the Lego store, but she knew that Nayeon would still be able to find something she liked.

Jeongyeon took her time walking around, checking out all the big sets. She knew that she didn't have a ton of space in her suitcases so she tried to focus on a medium sized set. Nayeon wasn't the most excited to be in the Lego store, but once she saw the Bath Time Fun: Floating Animal Island set, she picked it up and handed it to her mama. She loved the little animals it came with and she liked that she could play with it during bath time.

Jeongyeon took Nayeon's box and looked at it, looking back at Nayeon to make sure it was the set she really wanted. For herself, Jeongyeon got the Mini Disney Castle and the llama.

//

The two checked out a few more stores, picking up small gifts for the members. They got each of them a little keychain and a t-shirt. Nayeon put her t-shirt on and while they were heading for the exit, Nayeon darted towards the mall's play area.

Jeongyeon let out a small sigh as she followed Nayeon. Her arms were tired from carrying all the bags, but maybe they'd have a bench for her to sit on while Nayeon played.

Yes! There was a bench! Jeongyeon quickly sat down, putting the bags beside her as she pulled her phone out. They still had at least an hour before they had to be back with the rest of the girls. That left enough time for Nayeon to get some energy out so she could take a nap and for Jeongyeon to rest her arms and feet.

Jeongyeon kept a close eye on Nayeon as she played on the little castle inside the play area. The little climbed around, talking to herself as she made up a story, waving to her mama every once in a while.

Jeongyeon would wave back, making sure to take plenty of pictures. Her baby was so cute and seeing her have fun and take a break made Jeongyeon so happy. She smiled as Nayeon climbed on top of the big plastic turtle, giving it a hug. She's sure it wasn't the most sanitary thing in the world, but that's what baths are for.

"Mama! Need help down da slide!" Nayeon called over to Jeongyeon who pushed herself off the bench, bringing her bags with her to set by the ladder of the slide. She climbed up the back and crouched behind Nayeon who was already sitting at the top.

"You ready, bunny?"

Nayeon nodded as a happy scream left her. She flew down the slide and quickly ran back up, wanting to be pushed again. And again. And again.

After at least 20 times down the slide, their time was almost up. Jeongyeon held onto Nayeon's hand, making sure the little had her new bunny with her.

As they made their short walk back to the cars, Nayeon let out a yawn. Jeongyeon set their things in the back of the car before getting in, buckling her baby in. She ran a hand through Nayeon's hair, the little sighing in content.

Thanks to a few toys and the play area, Jeongyeon was sure that Nayeon would be asleep in a few minutes. This meant getting her down for a nap was going to be a piece of cake.

Jeongyeon held onto Nayeon's hand that wasn't holding her bunny and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. Nayeon's eyes slowly closed as they started the drive back to the hotel. She had her bunny and her mama — everything she'd ever need.

[cower-before-power]

Sweet Tooth

Summary: Needing a break from the absolute drag that is your bitchy cousin's wedding, you slip outside for some air. Luckily for you, a cute waiter and a stolen bottle of champagne are ready and waiting to sweeten your night considerably.

Pairing: Modern AU Connie Springer x F!Reader

Word Count: 2,684

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, drinking at work, dub-con (because Reader and Connie are tipsy), implied/referenced sexual content (including unprotected sex, outdoor sex, sex with someone you barely know, oral sex/cum eating), horrible horrible sex puns involving food, rusty writing.

A/N: HEY LOOK MA, I WROTE SOMETHING!! I started this fic ages ago, but only had the motivation to finish it recently thanks to joining The Coffee Corner discord server. This is for their Slice of Life collab, I hope you enjoy some funny Modern AU adult Connie, thank you for reading, likes and (especially) reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️.

————————————————

You breathe a sigh of relief as you slip outside into the refreshing evening air. The thumping of music and sounds of people talking dull as the door clicks shut behind you. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like weddings. It was just that you didn’t like this wedding.

Your cousin had always been a spoiled brat, a pouty, whiney thing that threw tantrums whenever something didn’t exactly go her way. They two of you had never gotten along, and you knew your parents did not exactly like that side of the family. But they wanted to avoid being reamed out for the next 20 years, so when the invitations arrived, your dad checked off “Yes” with a what could only be described as a world-weary sigh. 

You knew she didn’t actually want you there. It was a chance to show off, to show how wealthy her poor (and dumb) husband was and how lavish of a wedding she could throw. If there was one thing that stayed constant, it was her need to always be the center of attention.

“Need a light?”

You whirl around, hand clutching your chest as you come face to face with bright eyes and a toothy grin. Your heart does a strange ga-lump that has nothing to do with being startled; it’s him.

The guy you’ve had your eye on all night, one of the only bright spots in this whole wretched affair. You’ve dubbed him Cute Waiter in your mind, his boyishly charming good looks and happy-go-lucky demeanor like a beam of sunshine through the gloom. He wasn’t assigned to your table, sadly, and you’d been wondering how you would be able to strike up a conversation with him.

Seems like something good may be coming out of this night after all.

“I-I don’t smoke,” you shake your head, frantically trying to reclaim a tiny bit of composure. “Just out for some fresh air.”

“Oh, my bad,” he says cheerfully, stowing the lighter he’d been holding out back into his uniform pocket. “It is kind of stuffy in there, isn’t it?”

You sigh in agreement. “And loud. And mentally exhausting. If my cousin rubs it in my face one more time that she’s married and I’m still “hopelessly inept” at finding love, I’m not responsible for what will happen next.”

Cute Waiter laughs, loud and jolly like he’s auditioning for the role of Santa in a school play. It’s surprisingly adorable. “Yeah, because love is totally in the air tonight.”

You giggle at his words. “She claims it’s love, but trust me; their marriage came to be because of money and the fact my dear cousin does not take no for an answer.”

Cute Waiter leans against the wall of the venue, hands tucked into his pockets as he continues to flash that mega-watt grin. “Yeah, I got the vibe. Wanna make bets about how awkward their night’s gonna be later?”

You snort. “I’m certain she’s just been laying back and thinking of platinum credit cards and shopping sprees for the last two years, and that poor bastard has no idea. He’ll probably be convinced it’s a night of romance while she’s planning the layout of their new mansion in her head.”

Cute Waiter shakes his head, chuckling. “Damn, are we sure they have a chance? Maybe I’ll be serving food at their divorce party. Or his funeral after she murders him for the dough.”

Your face hurts from how much you’re smiling. “Is it bad to say I hope so? The food is very good.”

“Niccolo is quite the whiz in the kitchen,” Cute Waiter agrees genially. “You can’t get much better around here.”

Almost in slow motion, you see your opening being laid out before you. Bolstered no doubt by the two glasses of wine at dinner, and encouraged by the fact he was just so cute and funny, you make your move.

“Of course, I also hope it would mean I’d see a certain man I’ve dubbed Cute Waiter again.”

The man in front of you blinks, eyebrows raising as his face morphs into an strange expression of surprise and amusement. “Cute Waiter, you say?”

“Yes,” you nod, determined to see this through now that it’s underway. “I’ve been wondering how I could get a chance to talk with him all night, but he’s been very busy.” You feel your face warming under his hazel stare. “Imagine my delight to find he’s not only cheerful and good looking, but extremely funny and easy to talk to as well.”

Cute Waiter’s cheeks bloom a lovely shade of pink. “That’s-wow. The prettiest girl at this wedding just-do you really-I mean, thank you,” he stutters out, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m Connie.”

You duck your head shyly at his compliment, your own name murmured softly as you try to calm your thrumming heart. “Hello, Connie.” You stick out your hand out, heat now racing down your neck as you inwardly cringe at your own awkwardness.

Connie grins, taking your proffered hand in a gentle grip. You try not to think of how warm his hand is as his fingers curl around yours. “I think I liked Cute Waiter better.”

You could probably cook an egg on your face at this point. “Well, it’s still a true sentiment anyways.”

Connie chuckles. “You’re good for my ego.” His gaze drops to your still clasped hands. You stammer out an apology, attempting to snatch your misbehaving limb back, but to your surprise (and excitement), he grips your hand tighter.

“Wanna get out of here?”

Your eyes widen as your heart gives an excited thump. “What? Right now?”

Connie nods, eagerness rolling off him in waves. “I’m thinking you, me, and that massive bottle of expensive champagne I saw on the gift table deserve to get to know each other a little bit better. Preferably away from the god-awful vibes this place is giving off.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, but there’s no denying the thrum of excitement beneath your skin.

“You wanna skip out of work, steal someone else’s booze and run off with a girl you’ve known for all of 10 minutes?”

Connie grins. “If that girl is you, then hell yes.”

Laughter bubbles up from your chest like fizz in a soda can. “Then lead the way, Cute Waiter.”

And that’s how you find yourself down by the lake, sprawled out on a stolen tablecloth, tipsy giggles escaping the both of you as the champagne bottle is passed between you. Your animated chatter fills the twilight hour, talking about anything and everything. Connie is easy to talk to, open and free with what feels like a genuine interest in what you have to say. It’s nice. You don’t want it to end.

“This stuff is horrible,” Connie hiccups, shaking his head as he hands you the bottle. “Why do rich people have such garbage taste in alcohol?”

“I like it,” you grab the bottle from him, hugging it to your chest as if it was a beloved teddy bear. “It tastes like sunlight in a bottle. Maybe I’ll serve it at my wedding. If I ever get one.”

“You will,” Connie states matter-of-factly. “You’re super smart, pretty, funny, and nice. The only thing that sucks about you is your choice of drink. This shit is worse than pond water.”

You gasp in mock offense, your stomach doing somersaults at his compliments. “Okay, you are not invited to my hypothetical wedding, Mr. Meanie! How dare you insult the nectar of the gods?”

“Nectar- sweet mother of mercy,” Connie snorts, wrinkling his nose as you take another sip. “You’re too drunk to think straight, next thing you know you’ll be telling me you loved that horrible monstrosity your dear cousin calls a wedding dress.”

“I’m not drunk,” you giggle, “just a little tipsy. And no way am I ever wearing a dress like that. She looked like an over frosted cupcake-and that’s being nice.”

“Mmmmm cupcakes,” Connie sighs, rubbing a hand over his stomach. “Damn it, should’ve nicked some food, I’m hungry now.”

“Oh! I can help, one sec,” You wiggle around so you can reach your handbag, rummaging around until you find what you’re looking for. “Tada! Emergency Twinkies. I stashed some in case the food here was garbage, thankfully it wasn’t at all but you never can be too careful.” You nod sagely at the boy beside you.

“Shit, are you an angel?” Connie breaths, eyes going big and dopey as he takes the proffered treats. “Twinkies? A bunch of Twinkies in your bag. Just in case.”

“I always carry one at least,” you feel your heart going all gooey at his starry-eyed amazement. “You never know when you’re going to need a snack.”

Connie groans, low and deep in his throat, and you squirm at the sudden heat pricking at you. “You are literally the most fucking perfect girl. I am so glad I picked up this shift.”

“I’m glad I came too,” your smile is threatening to break your face in half, but you just can’t help it. There’s just something about Connie that makes you feel  warm and blissful, like the first sip of perfectly prepared coffee as it bursts on your tongue. 

You stare at each other, silly grins and hazy eyes and all the hope of youthful infatuation.

You don’t know who moves first.

What you do know, is that Connie kisses like he laughs; full, deep and with purpose. His mouth is warm and sweet with lingering champagne, and you whine as he cups the back of your neck to push you even closer to him. 

Maybe it’s the buzz of the alcohol, or the sweet song of the crickets, or the thudding of your heart when Connie licks into your mouth like he’s going die if he doesn’t taste every inch. It could be the thrill of being desired, the delicate bloom of two young hearts connecting as if you were in some sort of sappy fairytale. You don’t really know, nor do you really care.

But you let Connie lay you down on the tablecloth, let him ruck your fancy dress up, let him touch you until you’re trembling like the leaves in the warm spring breeze. 

“This ok?” He’s got one hand beside your head, the other stroking your inner thigh gently. “I uh-this wasn’t my intention, not right away anyways, but like, you’re so fucking cool and hot and I really really like you and-”

“Yes, ohmygosh yes,” you interrupt his rambling, clutching at his shoulders desperately. “I’m good. Fantastic. Wonderful. And very horny, so please hurry up.”

Connie huffs a laugh, leaning down to kiss you as you help him free himself from the confines of his pants. After that, only the soft light of the nearly set sun is the witness to your bodies meeting, your groans and sighs carried away on the gentle summer breeze as you let yourself drown in pleasure. 

When you’re both spent you lay beside each other, panting and grinning as your heartbeats slowly return to normal. You feel floaty, fizzy with satisfaction, like you’ve downed that whole damn bottle of champagne in one gulp. You can’t remember the last time you felt so good at the hands of another, and you can feel yourself itching to grab the man beside you and have him do it again.

Suddenly, a thought niggles it’s way into your fuzzy brain, and you snicker loudly.

“I hope that’s not in response to my performance,” Connie reaches over to pinch your cheek affectionately.

“No,” you titter tipsily, swatting his hand away. “I was just thinking….now I’m a Twinkie.”

Connie scrunches his eyebrows. “What?”

A snort leaves you. “I’m a Twinkie….because now I’m filled with cream.”

You dissolve into fits of giggles as his mouth drops open in surprise.

“Ugh, no fair!! You can’t make jokes like that!” Connie digs his fingers into your ribs, grinning as you shriek in surprise. “Not unless you want me to fall in love with you!”

You squirm away from his questing fingers. “Slow your roll there, cowboy,” you warn, but your heart is light and your skin is tingling. “At least take me on a date first!”

“I suppose,” Connie sighs dramatically. “But you better reign in that charm! One more stashed snack or raunchy joke and you might never get rid of me.”

The thought isn’t unpleasant. “You better not come home with me and look inside my bedside drawer then.”

“Oh?” Connie waggles his brows suggestively. “Whatcha got in there, hmmm? Some Skittles and flavoured lube? Fuzzy Peaches and fuzzy handcuffs? Edible candy panties? Please say edible candy panties.”

You laugh as you sit up, feeling for your bag. “Why don’t you come over after work and see? Assuming you still have a job, that is. I don’t think you’re supposed to drink and have sex on the clock.” You shimmy in triumph as you fish out your phone. “Here, give me your number, Cute Waiter Who Is Also Pretty Good At Sex.”

Connie smirks, grabbing your phone as he sits and pulls his own out of his pocket. You take it eagerly. “Don’t worry, I’m still employed. Niccolo owes me like a million favors, considering I’m the reason he and his fiancé, aka my best friend, are even together. That’s why I even have this job.” He winks, handing your phone back.  “Ah, the joys of nepotism.”

“Sexy,” you giggle as you swap phones. You smile when you see what he’s saved his contact as: Cute Waiter Who Is Also Pretty Good At Sex. Part of you feels a sense of disbelief; did you really just hook up with a hot, sweet, funny guy at your cousin’s wedding? And now you’re getting his phone number? After all the shit you got tonight for being the lonely single loser?

Take that, you frigid bitch.

Connie looks at his phone. He groans loudly as he reads what you’ve typed in. “You saved yourself as Twinkie ❤? Damn, woman! I’m never gonna be able to eat those delectable golden treats without popping a stiffy now. I’m rising to half mast right now just looking at this.”

You reach over and toss him the forgotten package, rolling your eyes playfully as it smacks him in face. “Down, boy. Eat your treat like you originally planned.”

Connie tosses the snack away, and you shiver as a hungry look flits across his genial face. “Yeah, these are not gonna cut it anymore. I wanna stuff my face with a different Twinkie now.”

Your insides twist violently, molten heat trickling down your spine at the implication of his words. 

“Ohmygosh,” you groan, already whipping your phone back out to text your parents you’re heading home. “Fuck the rest of this, we’re going to my place. Now.”

Connie pumps his fist in the air as he jumps to his feet. “Hell yes! Do I have a horseshoe up my ass today or what?” He makes a show of trying to look behind himself, as if his behind might actually be sporting one.

Your face feels like it will break in two from the force of your smile. “Just order us a damn Uber, you goof.”

Connie salutes and begins typing rapidly on his phone. You stand, adjusting yourself to contain the mess that’s currently trying to drip down your legs. “Damn. Should have grabbed napkins along with that booze. I’m leaking like a broken facet over here.”

Connie’s phone is already in his pocket, and your heart thumps happily at the warmth of his hand as it slides into your own.

“I’m all the cleanup you need, babe,” he winks, tugging you gently into his chest. You look up at him, all smiles and flushed cheeks, mischief dancing in his adoring gaze. You don't know if you've ever felt so alive, so free, so ready for wherever he takes you.

“After all," he lowers his mouth to brush teasingly against yours, "the cream is the best part of a Twinkie.”

[wadbot]

dwango21.wad: DWANGO: 21st Anniversary MAP06: Lockdown (-1008, 1232, 16) Author: Doomkid, Cpt. Toenail, the_miano, Deathtrap, NoneeLlama, Joe-Ilya, Inkie, BloodyAcid, Fred512, Chris Date: 2015-12-31 Description: Happy 21st Anniversary! DWANGO is now officially old enough to buy booze. Due to the popularity of the Dwango 20th anniversary mappack (DWANGO20.wad), I've decided to start up a project with a similar but slightly different vision. Last year, we gave the DM mappers of the 90's the spotlight and focused on a true OS-style, however this year we've switched to focusing on the current community. This is a blend of the old and the new - It breathes fresh blood into map themes and layouts heavily inspired by our old favorites (and is definitely not to be taken too seriously!) After we all worked our butts off, we came to 25 maps. Happy fragging, Doomers! MAPLIST: 01- 21st Anniversary - Doomkid 02- Deimos Deathmatch - NoneeLlama & the_miano 03- Death Trap - Deathtrap 04- Splattercourt - Captain Toenail 05- Cat and Mouse - Deathtrap 06- Lockdown - Captain Toenail 07- Base E2 - NoneeLlama 08- Threshold - Cpt. Toenail & Joe-Ilya 09- Killing Spree - Captain Toenail 10- The Devil's Playground - Inkie 11- Circle of Death! - Doomkid 12- Hydromatch - BloodyAcid 13- Bold and Brash - Doomkid 14- Day 2 Die - Captain Toenail 15- Raging Elements - Fred512 16- E1M1 DM - Doomkid 17- Phobos Dungeon - Doomkid 18- The 6th Gate - Ronald 19- Spilling Blood - Deathtrap 20- The Unholy Cathedral - Chris Hansen 21- Canyon Installation - Joe Pallai 22- Wooddeath - Cacowad 23- Dieangle - Peter Kasting 24- Another Bloody Circle - Doomkid 25- Slasher - Doomkid

[sage-qwq]

Fnaf movie spoilers

It’s not good (in my opinion) . And not in the good campy horror movie way.

The things I didn’t like.

First and foremost the trailers spoiled the movie.

I thought that were taking liberties with the original lore but it was just ignoring major lore points like having Vanessa as William’s kid instead of mike???

It forced Vanessa in and used her as a lore dump and forced a relationship between her and mike really fast.

The presentation of the animatronics while I don’t hate it it doesn’t stick to them being vengeful spirits and has them controlled by William instead of the remnant lore.(which I really don’t like.)

They just presented William as a evil villain with out motive not the death of one of his kid spurring on his killing spree.(which I don’t mind the idea of, but it combined with all the other weird changes was bad.)

They changed Elizabeth’s name to Abby which I didn’t mind.

Some weird focus on mike reliving cc (now known as Garrett .) being kidnapped but not in the way where he blames himself just a weird non emotional re-experience of it continuously throughout the movie.

The characters feel flat and uninteresting. They also don’t do anything for a majority of the movie.

I would have preferred more blood and horror but that’s just me.

The animatronics killing people has like no tone and impact. Also’s sorry excuse for a bloody handprint smear.(I’m being nitpicky here but if you’re going to have limited blood and gore at least have a good bloody handprint smear.)

The animatronics aren’t really intimidating to me. ( some of the other people I was watching it with who aren’t familiar with fnaf found them creepy though.)

No markiplier cameo /j

William getting spring locked was not guttural enough.

I just didn’t like Vanessa in the movie.

Not very clear on what decade the movie was in.

The dialogue was really disjointed.

What I like about the movie

I absolutely loved the visual props they referenced so much of the franchise and I picked out so many different details.

The balloon boy gag so good and it wasn’t over used.

I love the blank stupid stare the animatronics have, they’re so silly.

Near the end there was a spring lock suit that was an obvious reference to circus baby and Abby was nearly killed by being put into it.

Near the end there’s a seen where Abby is running away from foxy and hides between a game cabinet an pinball machine and I’m pretty sure it’s a reference to the first books.

The office is a mix between several different games offices.( the desk has exactly all the clutter in the first game but the monitors are setup like sister location.)

The layout is pretty much fnaf 1.

Just general references to all the different games and media. (I might have missed some of them myself.)

Love the pick for Williams actor.

Also golden Freddy ominously appearing in mikes house.( one of the people I was watching the movie jokingly guessed that Freddy would brake down the door and kill the aunt right before the seen happened.)

The banter between Mike and Abby was cute.

I really love the prop design it was eye candy.

The feral cupcake.<3

[strings0fcontrol]

Hannigram – Post-Fall (12)

Hannibal moved with measured grace, pacing slowly as he sketched out his new plan.

He delved into the hospital's security protocols, schedules, and layout, crafting a convincing disguise that allowed him to masquerade as a hospital employee, complete with a fabricated ID and uniform. As a diversion to confound both security personnel and law enforcement, he orchestrated a series of unrelated incidents and emergencies in the vicinity of the hospital. This plan encompassed fake bomb threats, anonymous tips, and even a seemingly unrelated crime spree in the area.

A fundraiser was in full swing, providing impeccable timing as it would draw the focus of hospital staff and security. Even in his desperation, he couldn't afford to be careless and jeopardize their cover. Not at this crucial juncture, not when he was on the verge of securing Will.

This meant that despite the fact that his adversaries were all around him, seated right in front of him as usual, they would be utterly engrossed in other matters, affording him the perfect opportunity to glide through their midst. Moreover, this positioning was strategically advantageous for his cover-up.

Chiyoh had readied a van, and Bedelia, for the time being, was safely confined.

Thanks to the handmaiden’s astute efforts, it appeared that Jack remained blissfully unaware of their current whereabouts, at least from what Hannibal could discern. Alana, on the other hand, seemed preoccupied with more immediate concerns, likely leaning towards defensive measures before contemplating any offensive moves. She was undoubtedly wary of drawing attention to the precious little family she had constructed, one that Hannibal had promised to wrest from her grasp. This raised the possibility that Du Maurier had indeed conversed with Crawford, but the puzzle pieces didn't quite align. Until Bedelia disclosed the missing information, he found himself at an impasse, staring down a vexing dead end.

The hospital held the promise of unraveling the enigma surrounding Will's condition.

At this point, he could manage the journey, with Will comfortably settled in his wheelchair. Hannibal regarded him thoughtfully, his mind churning with contemplation.

With all his essentials in hand, Lecter stepped outside, fully prepared.

Seated in the back with Graham, their destination under Chiyoh's capable guidance, his gaze narrowed. It felt as though, for the first time in ages, he pondered the alternate paths their lives might have taken if his actions had veered in a different direction. His eyes descended to the gently swaying floor, his clasped hands betraying the tumultuous thoughts that stirred within. He briefly reached for his small notebook, flipped it open, and perused his calculations. He had earnestly ventured into the realm of time travel. It appeared to be the sole concept that truly confined his abilities. Time, it seemed, only flowed in one direction, while we resided in our own glass box. We could observe what lay behind us, and with keen vision, predict what lay ahead, but we remained impotent in influencing the motion of the box itself.

Indeed, we can conceptualize time machines, but the majority of these seemingly workable ideas demand the existence of negative energy or negative mass, elements that appear to be absent in our universe.

Numerous alternative theories about time travel have been posited, but the vast majority of them remain rather unreliable at this stage. The behavior of time itself, much like our comprehension of reality, remains one of the many concepts that we have yet to fully grasp. In essence, even a higher being, one existing across more dimensions than we can perceive in our current form—much like how a two-dimensional figure would remain unaware of our existence in three dimensions—would, hypothetically, relinquish most of its characteristics tied to those higher dimensions if it were to adopt our dimensional parameters. This transformation, akin to our own loss of depth when rendered as a two-dimensional image, signified that even the devil himself would be powerless against time as long as he inhabited a mortal shell. He possessed the mathematics, in a sense, the spell inscribed on his pages, but he lacked the dimension within which he could harness its magic. Reversing time, therefore, proved to be an ineffective solution.

'I was so confident in my ability to help Will, to solve him, …''To save him.'

He longed for Will's return, and that single desire eclipsed all else. Everything once deemed paramount now took a backseat as his world appeared to have turned itself completely upside down. Will had left an indelible mark on him, just as he had on Will, sparking introspection.

The question loomed in his mind: Were the constructs of fate truly as immutable as society perceived them to be? A faint smile lifted his lips. Clearly not. Hannibal didn't seem to mind that Will's influence had infiltrated him. It imparted an oddly human sensation, although he'd never openly confess to such vulnerability. Even in his last moments, Will had remained a captivating enigma, both embracing and defying Hannibal in a quantum dance of existence.

The irony lay in the unchanging state that persisted while Hannibal observed Will. According to the principles of quantum physics, when an object is observed, it collapses into a specific state.

Will, on the other hand, appeared to do the opposite. He became more chaotic, changing between them.

A rather intriguing observation, he mused.

In truth, Will defied the conventional laws of psychology, occupying a realm that strayed far from established norms. His hyper-empathy, like a particle in quantum superposition, existed in an elusive state of unpredictability. This unique trait endowed him with an uncanny ability to feel the pain of others, to grasp their motives, and to immerse himself in their experiences as though they were his own. Yet, it also ensnared him in a paradoxical pattern of pathological behavior.

Did his compulsion to assist others stem from an innate desire to offer what he himself had lacked—a savior of sorts? Or was it a means of exerting control? Kindness, he understood, possessed a subtle power, a tool of manipulation veiled behind a gentle, charming smile, masquerading as the desire for the best outcome for everyone. The balance of intensity was a delicate tightrope walk, where perceptions oscillated between charming and creepy. For someone genuinely kind but overly enthusiastic, they risked appearing needy, even draining, undermining their sincerity. People often found it difficult to take such individuals seriously, their motivation seeming at odds with the ego.

Conversely, subtle gestures of kindness could easily go unnoticed, taken for granted. To wield kindness as a weapon required a masterful touch—an intricate and precise presentation—striking a delicate balance that allowed it to serve as both a shield and a sword.

Exercising unconditional kindness was among the most disruptive actions one could take.

Compassion entailed the logical understanding that things could cause hurt, without necessarily being a participant. Empathy, on the other hand, meant feeling as the other person did, intimately sharing their pain in every dimension. Hence, his motivation concealed a degree of selfishness that others might fail to grasp. He intervened to alleviate the suffering of others, not solely out of altruism, but to safeguard himself from becoming an unwilling participant in their ensuing chaos.

There were no boundaries, no safeguards. If he found himself in the proximity of someone enduring excruciating pain, it would overflow into every fiber of his being. He assisted others not only to shield himself from their pain, but also as a means to pacify his conscience. It served as a perpetual reminder of his identity as a virtuous individual.

However, paradoxically, using this altruism as a lure often proved to be an almost futile tactic. Will wasn't blind to this weakness; he displayed a keen awareness of it. Despite the awareness of the lurking monster behind the bait, he would, with full knowledge, unapologetically approach the trap. Anxiety coursed through Will, yet bravery shone brightly within him. Despite the grip of fear, he pressed onward undeterred. While others might have turned tail and fled, he forged ahead, driven by a singular sense of purpose: to move forward. It appeared to be the sole direction he comprehended—an intriguing anomaly.

Nevertheless, that represented only one facet of the coin; the flip side was considerably darker.

Empathy, oh, it wielded a power far more potent than most could fathom. In its unbridled, uncontrolled form, it was sheer torment to bear the weight of others' pain. But when coupled with a desire to inflict harm, or spite, a masochistic inclination enabling him to endure the suffering he sensed in others while perpetrating it, that was the zenith of empathy—the dark side of its spectrum. When harnessed for offense, it granted him the ability to pinpoint the source of agony, the wound itself, by using his own agony as the map. Instead of healing it, he could ruthlessly rend it open, systematically draining a person of their life essence.

When one finds themselves unable to control the pain that threatens to consume them, the only route to survival is to master the art of deriving pleasure from its agony. Or to endure the suffering, much like Will did, as he steadfastly resisted succumbing to his ominous inclinations. Will was acutely aware of the destructive potential within him but was apprehensive about harnessing it. And he was only inflicting pain upon himself in the process.

Balancing the delicate chemistry just right, it was the art of deception he had mastered. Skillfully posing seemingly benign inquiries, discreet prods veiled beneath the guise of altruism, all the while crafting outcomes that best served his own interests or, on occasion, simply for the sheer amusement it provided.

For a virtuous individual to authentically desire to inflict harm, he had to acquaint them with the flavor of it—the authority it held. It was a relatively straightforward task for someone with loose morals. If he cloaked it in enough excitement, self-serving motives, and rewards, most people would succumb. However, an autistic mind exhibited greater resistance to such influence. It adhered to a stringent justice system, a clearly defined sense of right and wrong, individually crafted, no doubt. But once those definitions were established, they proved nearly impervious to manipulation. Autistic individuals were more inclined to unwaveringly uphold their self-defined rules, even when doing so placed them at a direct disadvantage, simply because the rule held more sway than any offered reward. They did not easily compromise their morals, irrespective of the exact shade. Manipulating this mindset proved considerably more challenging, as it stubbornly recalibrated itself if the person had sufficient time to reflect upon it. The ceaseless activity of an autistic mind ensured that it questioned not only its environment but also itself. It required significantly more time to deviate from its customary calibrations and did so with great reluctance, only when presented with an exceedingly logical rationale. Or so he observed. Naturally, this didn't apply to all segments of the spectrum, but it did pertain to a very specific and limited range within it.

In contrast to the relatively uniform organization of brains in individuals without autism, his studies had revealed that when it came to connectivity between regions, no two autistic brains were alike. The spectrum was remarkably versatile, with instances where two autistic individuals could seem like polar opposites. It wasn't a simple linear progression from black to white; rather, it resembled an entire color wheel with numerous sliders. Each adjustment to a slider caused a complete shift in the overall shade it represented. Sometimes these sliders even moved fluidly, making it a dynamic and complex spectrum. There was no straightforward definition, and it was precisely this complexity that infused it with such vibrant diversity. No two autistic individuals could be identical; they might share similarities, but they could never be identical.

This rendered Will entirely unique, as Hannibal had come to realize. There was simply no substitute for him.

The challenge lay in the fact that, in a condition like this, he had to proceed with utmost caution. An autistic brain was fundamentally distinct, leading to different patterns of behavior. Most scientific experiments and standards were primarily designed for non-autistic individuals, which occasionally made it quite difficult to anticipate how an autistic mind would respond to specific medications or procedures that might work effectively on a non-autistic individual.

These beautiful minds became something of a Pandora's box from a medical perspective due to the limited and uncertain knowledge surrounding them.

These humans, these captivating beings, had always held a special allure for him. Their idiosyncrasies fascinated him endlessly, their little thought processes. He had only begun to peel back the layers of their psyche, to unearth the depths of what lay hidden beneath, steadily working towards the day when he could exert unmitigated control over their minds.

Will seemed to hold a genuine desire to help others, to a degree, but he stumbled in the manner of translating it to the outside. He remained ignorant of the art of wielding this power effectively – the precise timing, the strategic placement, and the controlled intensity. Perhaps, the world should count itself fortunate that no one had ever instructed him in the mastery of this formidable weapon. While it tore him apart from within, it was prevented from unleashing its wrath upon the world.

The world had chosen to label him as a monster, oblivious to the fact that he was the one pursuing the true monsters. What a bitter irony it was.

Will stood as the polar opposite, the yin to his yang.

He remained in a perpetual state of evolution. In his fragility lay an extraordinary resilience. With every scar and crack, he grew more beautiful, more complete.

It was reminiscent of kintsugi, the art of golden repair—a traditional Japanese craft that not only restores an object's functionality but also elevates its beauty by adorning the cracks and repairs with precious metals. This art form embodied the philosophy of embracing imperfections, acknowledging that breakage and mending were integral aspects of an object's history, meant to be celebrated rather than concealed.

Every shattered fragment of him, Lecter would tenderly gild with gold.

It was a breathtaking spectacle to witness the extent to which his mind could stretch, unfurling its little tendrils to weave these peculiar connections—an absolute masterpiece of nature's design. Always voracious, forever learning, ceaselessly observing and dissecting, much like Hannibal himself. It marked the first occasion he had encountered someone who evoked such a sense of belonging. 

To him, others were perpetual strangers. He moved through the throngs of humanity like a ghost in the daylight, his facade carefully cultivated to blend with the cacophonous world around him. The world, in all its ostensible vibrancy, held little allure for him. His tailored suit was but a veneer, a mere disguise to shield his true self from prying eyes. For in the depths of his being, he was the antithesis of those who surrounded him.

Their conversations, their laughter, their joys and sorrows, they were but fleeting echoes to him, mere hollow reverberations of a life he could never truly understand. The world danced with its inhabitants, but he saw through the web of pretense that concealed the yawning void within. None among them cast their eyes to the heavens, questioning: What secrets do the stars hold?

Narrow minds, and he held no fascination for comprehending sheep; his sole interest lay in savoring their succulence.

As Hannibal adjusted his posture, he sensed the van gradually decelerating. His attention shifted towards the front, where a modest-sized hospital came into view. While it possessed the essential equipment he required, its current late hour promised minimal activity, making covert entry a plausible endeavor.

Donning a white coat and exuding an air of confidence often worked like a subtle enchantment. It was as if, by not questioning his own presence, he rendered himself immune to scrutiny, a trick that often cast a protective shroud around him even when he was under watchful eyes.

He could stride boldly into their midst, no mask needed, and the radiance of his confidence would dazzle all who surrounded him, obscuring the fact that he was, in reality, an outsider in this very milieu.

The brilliance of the Morningstar's light was most potent when directed squarely at those who dared to face it head-on.

He had already assessed Will's reflexes and observed his reactions to pain stimuli. While his pupils displayed appropriate responsiveness, the lack of reaction to pain was perplexing.

This anomaly could potentially be attributed to specific neurological conditions, such as locked-in syndrome or severe variants of Guillain-Barré syndrome, both of which could induce profound paralysis and an inability to respond to stimuli, including pain. Yet, individuals with locked-in syndrome typically preserved their cognitive functions and sensory perception, maintaining an understanding of their surroundings, even though their physical capabilities were severely restricted. This made such conditions appear less likely but still hovered on the fringe of potential explanations.

Hannibal remained watchful for signs of coma or seizure activity, as these remained high on his list of suspected causes for Will's enigmatic condition.

A comprehensive evaluation was in order, and Lecter planned to initiate a battery of tests. This included conducting a CT scan and MRI of the brain, which would help pinpoint any structural abnormalities, detect bleeding, tumors, or other cerebral issues. Additionally, an EEG would be employed to measure the brain's electrical activity, aiding in the diagnosis of conditions like seizures or irregular brain rhythms that might account for Will's state of unconsciousness.

His meticulous approach extended beyond these imaging and neurological studies. Hannibal intended to leave no stone unturned, delving into every aspect of Will's condition, right down to the molecular analysis of his blood. This undertaking promised a busy night ahead.

Meanwhile, Will had reconciled himself to the eccentricity of the pie set before him, complemented by a glass of honey milk. Despite its unconventional appearance, it didn't assault his taste buds with awfulness; rather, it offered an unexpected blend of flavors. He chewed thoughtfully, occasionally savoring the soothing chill of an ice cube to alleviate his inner turmoil. Though it may have possessed the flavor of mere paper, the simple act of chewing was a source of peace. Each deliberate mastication brought a measure of contentment, accompanied by a mindful swallowing, a soothing balm for his sore throat.

It was the first day when, even in the midst of the unusual, something remotely akin to normalcy had descended upon his world. Even though, it followed the most abnormal moment by far. Yet the more he strained to contemplate, the room's kaleidoscope of colors intensified, their vibrant onslaught growing increasingly overwhelming. Sensory overload. Which demanded a decisive intervention. He realized he had to impose a full stop, allowing his mind the respite it so urgently required before it combusted into flames of chaotic cognition.

Could one, through sheer force of thought, will themselves into unconsciousness? The notion held a certain peculiarity that piqued his curiosity. However, he deemed it a venture best left for another time, certainly not on this particular night.

Imagining it as a miniature snow globe resting on Hannibal's desk, the situation appeared only half as terrifying. Strangely, encapsulating it within such a diminutive frame brought a measure of solace to his restless mind.

At the very least, it presented a transitory form that he could tuck away, a shape where its overwhelming terror felt marginally less daunting.

Contemplating grand ideas had become an excruciating exercise, one that drained him of an excessive amount of energy. So, it was time to cease the relentless cogitation and surrender to rest. Perhaps, sleep could serve as a respite, a means to regain some semblance of sanity and reconnect with the tumultuous events that had unfolded around him. Even as he recognized his state of dissociation, the sensation persisted. Awareness, in its cruel paradox, could be a curse in its own right. One could eloquently recount their own suffering yet remain impotent in the face of its relief. It was as if the mind harbored a penchant for tormenting itself.

Will relocated his plate to the sink and transferred the pie to the fridge once it had sufficiently cooled. He then settled onto the couch, fashioning a makeshift cocoon of comfort using a pillow, two towels, and several blankets. The weight of these layers served as an anchor, grounding him in the present and hopefully preventing him from unwittingly casting them aside during the forthcoming onslaught of nightmares. Up until now, he had been largely spared from his dreams, sheltered by unconsciousness. Yet, he understood that this sanctuary would likely wane, and the anticipation of that transition made the prospect of falling asleep an uneasy endeavor. The dilemma loomed large, for if his body were to grapple with such a monumental task during rest, it would either render him utterly incapacitated upon awakening or unleash a deluge of excruciatingly vivid nightmares that would violently jolt him from the cocoon of his bed. The looming question remained: which of these unsettling fates would befall him tonight?

Undoubtedly, he had the option to slumber in the bed situated upstairs. However, this ground-level arrangement held a peculiar charm, evoking a semblance of his own home, a haven of comfort amidst the disarray of his current existence. Here, he could pretend that he had sole dominion over the kitchen and the living room, with occasional forays to the upstairs bathroom. The unexplored rooms beyond remained shrouded in a veil of potential unease, and his convalescent state necessitated prudence. He resolved to minimize his movements, to conserve his precious energy, deeming that grand adventures could bide their time for now.

If he couldn't rely on his mind when it was awake, could he place trust in it while it slumbered?

He had diligently secured the door and ensured the windows were firmly latched, determined to prevent any unplanned midnight escapades. With the lights extinguished, all that remained was to surrender to the embrace of sleep.

That,  of course,  being the  easiest  part of it all,  stood there in mocking script.

Here, amidst the familiar, he harbored a sense of relative safety. He could simply allow his eyelids to drift shut, placing his trust in the notion that all would remain well. Over time, he had acquired the skill to tread carefully through the minefields of his life. By adhering to the principle of avoiding sudden movements, he could maintain the delicate equilibrium that promised security and serenity.

Yet, at that precise moment, a swift and unexpected touch grazed his hand, sending his eyeballs into a frantic dance and his heart into a relentless sprint, as if his very soul had contemplated to eject itself. He could almost hear a celestial choir, believing he had transcended into the afterlife in that very instant.

Aloneness in the dark was already an unsettling prospect. Not being alone in the dark was an even more harrowing ordeal.

An eerie chill crept up his spine.

He remained motionless, as though the world had stilled around him. His breath held in abeyance, he silently beseeched himself to summon the courage to draw in a slow, deliberate wisp of air. His chest felt as if it might congeal into stone, and his heart, in its fevered palpitations, threatened to crush his throat in its rhythmic screams. With painstaking caution, he pivoted his eyes, seeking to discern any shapes without the slightest movement of his body.

Complete stillness enveloped him. If he remained still, it wouldn't detect him, right?

Then, he sensed another touch, this one feather-light, akin to the delicate caress of a slender plastic thread. In response, his entire body recoiled as if he were a pinball ricocheting off a flipper, his jumping heart nearly propelling him off the couch.

In the realm governed by the laws of monster interaction, his movement had sealed his fate—

Time to sprint for the light switch.

Whatever limb hits it first wins.

It was a marvel, the sudden awakening of the mind in a mere heartbeat, spurred into frantic action by the buzzing static of anxiety.

He was lightning, he was speed, there was a pillow in his way, he was on the floor, tumbling and flailing, but still moving forward, albeit a little less elegantly.

Graham's hand crashed onto the light switch, and he contorted his body to scan the room.  As everything flooded with light, it revealed absolutely nothing. An absence so profound that it sent another bone-chilling shiver coursing down his spine.

This unnerving void left him questioning whether he had plunged into complete insanity or if some stray hair or ethereal thread had toyed with his senses. Perhaps even the very carpet beneath his feet had conspired to unsettle his fragile equilibrium.

Or – He inched closer to the couch's edge, peering over it cautiously. But just as he did, he felt a presence on his back, causing his heart to, once again, lurch with a start. Initially sharp, it then softened, gently dipping onto his neck with an affectionate touch. The sensation exuded warmth and life, accompanied by a melodious chirp that serenaded his senses.

It was a fucking cat.

His posture gradually relaxed, and his eyes shifted ever so slowly.

Perched upon his shoulder, an entirely black feline now seemed to reign, as if it had found its throne.

Will's thoughts swirled. Why had his mind conjured a cat when, logically, it should have gravitated toward dogs? The enigmatic feline returned his gaze with an inscrutable expression. What secrets might it hold?

Slowly, he stood, the cat gracefully adjusting its balance to mirror his movements.

Fine, he thought.

He flicked off the light and retreated to the couch, where he gently set the cat down, cocooning himself once more beneath the blankets. The feline perched itself atop his curled leg, a little sentinel in the dimness.

He stared intently at the cat.

From whence had it emerged? How had it infiltrated his house? Had he inadvertently left a window unsecured, providing an entry point? Or was there an alternate ingress to the house concealed from his knowledge?

Its mere presence had begun to stoke the embers of paranoia within him. What if this feline wasn't the only other living entity sharing the island with him? Oh, no, no, no, unwelcome thoughts, unwelcome thoughts. Sleep would elude him tonight.

Speaking of, was he truly awake, or had he already slipped into the realm of dreams? Perhaps, he considered, he was in the midst of a dream within a dream, much like in the film Inception.

Huh.

As he pondered this possibility, his head inclined slightly, veering toward a thought taking shape. Before it could fully materialize, however, a shrill noise cleaved through the air, instantly diverting his attention in its direction. The sound seemed to emanate from one of the windows, although none of the nearby trees reached far enough to make contact with them—certainly not enough to cause any disturbance from the swaying of branches in the wind. The cat, too, had turned its keen gaze toward the source of the sound, confirming that he wasn't conjuring it from his imagination.

High alert.

Will propelled himself upright, his frantic gaze ricocheting between the windows, the door, and the staircase. He had meticulously locked every entry point, taking pains to double-check them earlier. Right? His hand instinctively dropped to his hip, closing, only for the stark reality to hit him – he wasn't carrying a gun. His gaze followed, fixating on the empty space where his hand had grasped at nothing.

Fuck.

Did the house hold any weapon, aside from his modest kitchen knife and, as he examined it closely, this clawed marshmallow?

He hesitated to step off the couch. Paradoxically, it was the only location within the entire house that seemed to offer a semblance of safety, regardless of how illogical it appeared.

A safe haven. The floor, on the other hand, felt like searing lava.

His mind remained on high alert for a compelling reason, one he couldn't, and most certainly shouldn't, disregard.

The cat, too, had shifted its position, its gaze locking on. Its ears stood at attention. Something lurked outside. If the trajectory held, whatever it was, it seemed to be inching closer to the main door. Then, the cat arched its back and let out a hiss, every hair on its body bristling in a vivid exhibition of visceral hostility. That was the only confirmation he required. If the animal was frightened, then he had every reason to be afraid as well. Will gently scooped up the cat, his movements swift yet eerily soundless as he advanced towards the door. As he drew nearer, the door began to shake violently, as if something was hell-bent on breaching it. A surge of fear coursed through him, threatening to send him tumbling as he reached the first step. His body contorted to keep the door in view, one hand clutching the cat, the other tightly gripping the staircase railing, all the while maintaining his precarious balance.

Strangely, the key still lingered in the lock, a detail he had carelessly overlooked earlier. This oversight magnified the room's already palpable tension as the key began to twist on its own, the sound a gradual, spine-chilling creak, sucking away his air. He had braced himself for a forceful breach of the door, but this uncanny turn of events unnerved him far more than any straightforward assault ever could.

Will hastily ascended several steps further, his gaze transfixed on the gradual, eerie rotation of the key. With each step, he could feel his heart pounding louder. As he neared the top, the door suddenly swung open, exposing a pallid figure that lurched into the house from the shrouded abyss outside. The intruder hesitated for a moment upon entry, its peculiar, slightly off-kilter movements hinting at a careful appraisal of the unfamiliar and dimly lit surroundings.

The hairs on his neck bristled, and the cat in his grasp had almost petrified in terror.

Will’s heart pounded so thunderously that he didn't just feel the drumming in his throat; he could taste its rhythm on his tongue, pulsating in his eyeballs, and ringing in his ears.

Every fiber within him whispered a single imperative: run.