#153 days of survival

[feelingcauliflower]

153 days of survival

50/153

more than 30% of the time has passed. i can make it through the rest. september was me trying to somewhat fix my sleep schedule so basically just sleeping sleeping and sleeping. have not slept so much in such a long, long time. tried to stay as present as possible but did kind of leave my head every 2-3 days. has been quite the journey of doing nothing. have only one day to revise each unit lol honestly at this point i have simply accepted it. yes it makes me sad. but there is not much i can do. i will just have to roll with what my brain gives me. if it’s procrastinating and staring at screens without a single thought in my head, it is what it is. will be scheduling cry days for every 2 days again. have a nice day, week, month. thank u for reading this far, send a good thought and prayer. i am so attached to all of this it is hard to let go and give up but it is so important to know when to give things up. i am just sad and scared.

context: i am simply trying to survive my a2 exams which end on 18th of jan, 2024 and documenting this here to have some kind of responsibility. the frequency of my updates is well evident of my work.

link to previous post: https://www.tumblr.com/feelingcauliflower/728287215250276352/153-days-of-survival

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ UNCHAINED MELODY, PART FOUR !

summary :: surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 19.5k (oops)

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!jill, yandere!carlos, smut, gender neutral reader, dom!jill, sub!carlos, switch!reader, nudity, noncon, penetrative s3x, unprotected s3x, oral s3x, masturb4tion, f1ngering, overst1mulation, edging, spitting, physical restraint, love triangle, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, mild force-feeding, violence, death, manipulation, drugging, blood/gore, weapons, unhealthy religious themes, & just lots of creepy shit.

──── Five months; 153 days. That is how long Jill and Carlos have spent in the clouds of heaven with their one and only, Y/N L/N. So much has changed in such little time. Drastically, but all too invigorating in the same breath.

The two people who have claimed to be your lovers tell you tales of what horrors are rooted in the place you once called home. How they lathered your brain in their lies and how they thread through your veins with manipulation — five months have passed and you still cannot believe it to be true. They provided you shelter, comfort, and love; they lent you a rope to climb when you were left for dead at rock bottom.

Even with the clutter of Jill's studies she shows to you as proof, the way she clenches her jaw when you speak of them makes you regret ever mentioning the subject. Even with the scars Carlos shows you from when he had worked for the corporation, the vein that bulges above his brow when you speak of them makes you recoil with apprehension.

Your days and nights have been spent pondering what lies outside of these walls. This sudden contrast in your life doesn't fog your judgment entirely, though. With every day the rain falls, you have come to learn several new things.

Oh, how Jill Valentine loves the taste of Y/N L/N.

It is evident throughout every day, where fragments of her obsession are sprinkled into every moment you spend together.

When dawn arises and the birds begin to fill the air with their melodies, Jill awakes and you are the first thing she sees. And the precious imagery alone causes all higher brain function to abandon her. Being here with you, the only reason she continues to live on is breathtaking. To wake up and find the star of her dreams beside her while the presence of her nightmares fade away — there is no high quite like it.

With a lanky arm wrapped firmly around your waist, the other treads across your flesh. The stripe of your jaw, the expanse of your eyelid, the apple of your cheek. To touch you, never has Jill been so happy. A hum of laughter vibrates in her chest when she takes notice of the string of drool leaking from your mouth. Too damn cute. She restrains herself from cooing and instead, focuses on the way her sweatpants grow tighter when her mind wanders.

Jill drags her calloused fingers among the wet surface of your parted lips and collects the excess saliva, all without a hint of guilt or hesitance. Fervently, like some sort of starved beast, she shoves the digits into her mouth and ensnares her wriggling tongue around them. The constriction is almost suffocating; the flare of heat inside her is almost overwhelming.

Jill could stay here forever, relishing in the absolute euphoria only you are capable of bringing her. However, the day calls out for the two of you (as well as a man who is just as needy as she is for your attention).

With leisure efforts, she pulls the expensive comforters off of your warm body. She gently nudges your arm and purrs out your name. Five months later, there is still nothing that has her heart melting quite like the groggy, all-too-adorable look of lethargy on your expression. The way you rub the sleepiness out of your eyes and groan for "five more minutes," it takes Jill all the strength within her to not lock the door and spend the day drowning you in her love. Sometimes, she waves a white flag to her desires and does such, despite the grizzly bear banging on the door and demanding she let him see you.

Rainfall hastens as light envelops the land. You and Jill arrive at the kitchen where you find Carlos at the stove, laboriously working on something mouthwatering.

Upon your entrance, Carlos beams and risks the fate of burning the food in favor of greeting you. An embrace, one that rivals two lovers who haven't seen each other in decades, is what you're met with. A kiss on your forehead and an affectionate tap to your chin follow, as well as a promise that "breakfast will be ready soon, honey-bee."

Jill averts her gaze from the lovesick man. The sight may convince her to snatch an impromptu weapon from the knife block and slice his throat. Despite the elation of having you at her side, the possessive roots within her will always reside, unfortunately.

Two plates are soon set before you and Jill. For a number of times you cannot possibly fathom, Carlos sits beside you. Shoulders pressed to yours, he wastes no time in scooping a mouthful of delectable food and pressing it to your mouth. You thank him, as you always do, and he gushes about how much of a sweet thing you are. Meanwhile, Jill remains silent and scarfs down the meal with no regard to the effort he put into crafting it (there is much less effort in her dish than there is in yours, but not that she acknowledges).

Carlos refused to cook for her before, claiming that she can "get her own damn food." Though, your kind heart offered some of your breakfast to her and Jill resorted to feeding you with that irritatingly-smug look on her face. From here on out, he'd always leave an extra plate out for her. Carlos would prepare Jill an entire buffet if it meant he'd still possess his role of being your personal fork-holder. Nobody else.

After a night spent in cold sheets, Carlos proceeds to hog you as a child would with their favorite toy. The sleeping schedule you three have fluctuates every other night, to where you'll spend the evening with one of them and the next with the other. The two bedrooms within the home are assigned to Jill and Carlos, where they get to spend the precious time indulging in the joy of finally being alone with you. Evenings with Jill often fuel the gnawing need this man has to have you close. The similar way it does the other way around, as well.

With the rainfall now intensely heavy and engulfing the green atmosphere, you had deemed yourself fully satiated with love. Managing to slip out of the house for some fresh air after Carlos had so greedily taken yours, you stumble into the garage. From there, you find Jill, whose clothes and skin are adorned with stains of grease.

Wrench in hand, she works tirelessly on her motorcycle. She makes some flirtatious introduction that makes your face hot, as she was always skilled in getting under your skin with her provocative attitude. And for the next several hours (and an inconspicuous task given to Carlos so you'll receive a few seconds of time away from him), you aid Jill in her efforts to patch up her bike. Apparently, an animal had squeezed through some cranny and claimed Jill's baby (besides you, of course) as its dinner. With how deliberately it seemed that the vehicle was unable to function, you wonder what actually occurred during the night.

Never once in your life could you have ever considered fixing a motorcycle to be quite a fun process. And never could you have considered being covered in motor oil to be something so intimate, the inside jokes and coquettish comments from Jill adding to the romance, too.

Absorbed in patching up the complex structure of the fuel system, you don't realize how the hem of your sweater falls from your shoulder. Jill notices, however — oh, how she notices. If you hadn't been so engrossed in the activity your hands were occupied with, you'd see how her eyes latch to your naked skin and the way her mouth waters at the sight.

"Done!" Reaching your hand over, your sleeve treads lower when you set the pliers down upon the rusted tray beside you, exposing even more of your skin. You subconsciously pull the garment to shield your shoulder from the gusts of wind permeating the room (or the hungry eyes that crave to see everything torn from your body).

With a lack of knowledge about motorcycles in general, considering you have never been on one in your life, you make a quirky remark about "testing the new ride!" and sit down on the leather-threaded seat. Though, you sit entirely backward on the vehicle without a spark of false nature in your expression. Do you really think that's how you're supposed to ride a motorcycle? God, just when Jill thought you couldn't get even more adorable, you draw a new line in the sand.

“You tryna' turn me on?" Her voice drops to a low husk, a tone she has never presented but has always been reserved for you, anyway.

"What?" You furrow your brows and quirk your head like a puppy dog. And the sight does not aid the mayhem within the pit of her stomach.

She stands from the rolling stool and slowly treads to the back of the motorcycle, now standing right in front of you. The way you look up at her makes her absolutely exasperated with desire.

"'Too damn good at getting my attention. 'Got me all wrapped around that lil' finger of yours, huh?”

"I... I don't know what you're talking about...?"

"Really now? Sittin' reverse cowgirl and you expect me to not want to tear you apart?"

You flush in response to her insinuations, babbling jumbled nonsense in an attempt to explain your honest mistake. Jill leans closer to you, mere inches of space between you now. Resting her hand against the seat to support her weight, the other toys with the hem of that damned shirt in the way of what she wants most. She can practically feel the warmth radiating off your cheeks, and God, does it make her feral.

The expanse between you two hastens with less and less room, to where you lean backward in response. It isn't until you are entirely draped among the bike does she finally halt and hovers over you, practically bathing in how you blush from the intimacy.

"... Jill...?" You exhale breathlessly, your flustered state adding fuel to the fiery state of her inflated ego.

Despite the fantasies she's had of this moment, the scene she constructed won't be brought to light today. All the teasing, toying, and images where she'd force you to beg for her touch — she has dirtied her brain in the most pleasurable way possible. But, she's far too greedy; way too impatient. There is no possible reality in which she could restrain herself at this moment unless she was somehow physically tied down. Still, she'd find a way to wrangle herself out of any barrier if it meant you'd be lying beneath her like this. So inviting, gorgeous, and ready for her.

The kiss she pulls you into is suffocating.

The fervent, honeyed look trapped in your eyes, how could you expect her to resist? To control herself? Jill indulges herself in the taste of you and places a gentle hand against your waist. Despite being stuck in a cloud of dizzying enrapturement, she is still wary of pushing your boundaries.

Always so eager, however, mere seconds have gone by before Jill converts the intimate kiss to practically shoving her tongue down your throat. She lathes the appendage over the grooves of your teeth, the plush surface of your delectable tongue, and just everywhere she can possibly reach. Almost as if she were a dog, she's lapping every bit of you she can garner from your mouth.

You're dazed with lust, as well. Every little whimper for more is muffled against her greedy mouth but still succeeds in pushing Jill further into a sort of monster-like ravaging. What finally drives her over the edge of becoming an absolute beast is when you grasp hold of her free hand and guide it under your shirt, gasping when her frigid fingers make contact with your nipple.

She doesn't acknowledge how your desire looks like a mere breadcrumb in comparison to her own colossal need for you. Jill is too caught up in reveling in your reciprocation and her own burning hunger to pay the thought any mind.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, she parts from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you to one another.

You're not given a moment to catch your breath, not when a sudden gasp escapes your mouth as Jill begins to tear your clothes from your form. You're gasping her name, using your limbs to shield your naked skin while she continues to rapidly undress you. Every single part of you is now on display for Jill to watch and indulge in. Before you can express your shock at the fucking animal she has abruptly become, she locks a hand around your jaw and forces your gaze on her.

"Open." The authority in her tone doesn't grant you a second to even consider disobeying her. Without words, it is clear as day that Jill Valentine is the one in control.

Letting your tongue loll out of your mouth, you await her next actions with anticipation. She spits a glob of saliva onto the muscle and her supercilious laughter fans against your face. How precious it is the way your eyes perceptibly glisten from her actions. A sharp demand of "swallow" and you obey once more, never ridding her of the intense eye contact she has trapped you in.

Her index and middle finger prod at the flesh of your lips, where you eagerly invite them into your mouth. She sighs out a curse at the feeling of your tongue wrapping itself around her fingers and how you slurp the digits like a goddamn popsicle.

"Dirty fuckin' thing, aren't you?" Jill's fingers delve deeper, losing herself in the way you gag around her and whine out a muffled "mm-hmm!" as a reply.

Pulling her fingers from your mouth with an animated pop!, Jill's eyes never leave the ocean of passion in your eyes as she treads her hand lower.

With teasing efforts that her greedy self doesn't indulge in for too long, her fingers soon nudge against your sex. The contact causes a gasp to flee from your mouth. Circling around your entrance, you're only able to squeeze in several pleas for more before she's forcefully shoving her fingers inside of you.

While you throw your head back with a sharp moan, Jill's jaw drops as she realizes how she is finally able to feel every sliver of you. Inside and out. The spongy expanse of your walls; the silk of your essence mixing with the saliva you left upon her fingers. The garage is painted in the lewd sounds of your whimpers and the squelching induced by her fingers. Everything is perfect.

“Jesus Christ, baby... I could fuck you like this for days.” Her voice causes you to squeeze around her as if you were trying to physically cling to the mind-numbing sensations she's giving you.

Within seconds, Jill finds your sweet spot and begins to torture the love-button. Her calloused digits penetrate deep against it and the stimulation shifts your moans up an octave. With a "yeah? feelin' good?", you can only nod and succumb to the sounds that fall from your mouth.

With how paradisiacal the vehemence her fingers bring, you aren't able to ponder over how this woman is able to magically know your every weak spot, every sensitive bud, and the exact rhythms you prefer without ever informing her. Almost as if she's seen you do the same to yourself.

Soon, however, the heat becomes too much for you to handle and you begin to squirm in her grasp. Even when you whine pathetically about how it's too much, Jill doesn't falter her efforts in the slightest.

"Can't stop, baby... 'Clenching 'round me too tight, got me stuck in here." Her condescending tone and sultry smirk make you cry out in heavenly misery. God, it's only two lanky fingers and you feel more stuffed than a Thanksgiving turkey.

Her digits soon accelerate in speed, your body jolting from the force and legs beginning to quiver. A fire pervades in your core with how forcefully she massages your sweet spot and you let out pornographic "ah!"'s with every thrust she forces into you. The smirk on her face vanishes when you bring your forearm to your mouth in an attempt to muffle the unruly noises tumbling out. She swats your arms away, never ceasing her endeavors to bring you the most Earth-shattering pleasure you could ever know.

"Car-Carlos... He'll hear..." You manage to squeak out. And the sudden shift in her expression makes a surge of fear course through you.

"Carlos? 'Fuck you thinking bout' him for?"

Roughly, Jill pulls one leg of yours to your chest and is able to drive her fingers in deeper. You didn't even think it was possible, hence the shock and sucker-punched look on your face. She sharply reminds you of how it is only you and her together. Not in an attempt to comfort, but to emphasize the territory she has marked. And you can barely hear her possessive tangent through the sound of your own heart racing and the wet, sucking sound of your walls latching onto her. The mewls escaping your mouth have increased in volume and intensity, Carlos now nothing but a distant memory in your foggy brain.

"Y'know I once caught him sniffing your sweater like some sort of depraved junkie? Hand stuffed in his pants like a fuckin' pervert?" You can barely hear the woman speak, not when she's simultaneously turning you into nothing but a pile of mush.

“Bet he’s biting his damn fists thinking about me fuckin' you like this. 'Crying like a bitch knowing you're getting the best fuck of your life out here.” Once again, you're too dumb with pleasure to remind Jill you are also biting your fists and crying fat tears, but for different reasons than the vision she painted of Carlos.

“All mine, all fuckin' mine, baby. No one can fuck you like me, no one...” Her free hand finds its way to your nipple. The pulling and tugging earn her a loud cry from your throat that she practically revels in.

That familiar, but now incredibly stifling and heart-stopping, pool of heat begins to build in your tummy. With a slack jaw and incoherent ramblings, you attempt to find your voice and express the inevitable incoming through your incessant wailing.

"Jill, I-... I'm gonna- Fuck- I'm gonna...!" Jill quirks a brow in response.

"Gonna cum, baby? Hmm?" She exhaled with a quick chuckle, fully splitting you open with her fingers at this point. "All your fault, all your fault for being this fuckin' pretty. Can't fuckin' resist.”

“No, I-... I can’t help it when your fingers are just- just fucking stretching me out.” You throw your head back once more. The way the motorcycle juts uncomfortably at your skull fails to overpower the sheer fervor you're feeling.

Jill merely laughs in response. “Yeah? 'Gonna get all messy on my fingers? Get your fuckin' cum all over my bike?” The heat within you builds and builds until it becomes suffocating for your sweaty body to contain.

"C'mon, pretty thing. Cum f'me..."

With that, the damn breaks and it's as if you had released an entire tsunami the way you spurt around Jill.

Her mouth latches to yours during your peak, tongues mashing against one another. Chest pressed against yours, all your senses know are Jill, Jill, Jill. It is practically agonizing, how gut-wrenchingly pleasurable the orgasm is.

And Jill, all she can do is coo, tease, and watch in absolute wonder at how perfect this was. How perfect you are. When your peak is finally pacified into calm waves, your body goes limp against the bike and your essense leaks onto the clean leather. The entire room seems to melt away while you're brain is still scrambling to garner any brain cells Jill had managed to fuck out of you.

She removes her fingers from your heavenly heat and just stares at the way your slick paints her digits. Standing, Jill uses her heel to kick the rolling stool behind her. Her slender figure is finally able to rest as she sits down, heavy gaze still locked on the captivating sight of you all over her fingers. She brings them to her lips, eyes watering when she is able to catch a whiff, but stops herself before they can reach past and show her tongue what heaven is.

An idea, albeit a bad one (something Jill is notorious for), sprouts in her mind. The part of your body she has so kindly destroyed is sitting right before her, like a grand meal crafted by the most talented chef, just for her. Surely, a meal better than anything Carlos has ever made (which she knows he would certainly agree with, but she digresses).

With a kick to the cement floor, the stool slides across the room. Hastily grabbing a few random cable ties, Jill then swerves back to you. A gentle hand on your cheek, she presses yet another kiss to your whimpering mouth. It is soft and sweet, but it is easy to notice the dominating tendencies that lie beneath the surface. You reciprocate the affections, albeit clumsily, due to your dazed state.

While your tongues practically cuddle with one another, adorning the other in heaps of saliva, you can barely feel how Jill grasps hold of your wrist. She then presses it against the motorcycle handlebar. With her mouth latched to yours like a leech, she uses the cable tie to restrain your wrist to the handle. The other wrist is tied to the adjacent bar swiftly, to where you are now entirely restrained to the bike.

What she plans to do will be far too much for your exhausted body to handle. So, she must ensure that you stay pliant and accept even more heaps of the torturous zeal she intends for you to endure.

Fortunately, you don't seem to mind one bit. Your poor brain still hasn't processed that you will soon go through that same overwhelming, almost-painful pleasure once more. Scooting closer to you, Jill's heavy breaths fan against your sex and earns her a faint gasp from the light stimulation. Mere inches away, the scent of you floods her senses and further envelops her into whatever magic spell you put her under.

Six years. Six whole years.

Through the depraved loneliness of being without the one she loves most, there was always a curious desire that prodded at her brain. 

How would you take her? Would you like it rough and intense or soft and tender? What sounds would you make? Would you be shamelessly loud or try to restrain your cute whines? How much stamina would you have? Could she make you weak with mere minutes of intimate contact or would you challenge her to hours of bringing you venereal satisfaction? 

The mere idea always sends her hands downstairs, vowing that she'll find you and make you feel even half the sheer euphoria you gift her. And as if the heavens had heard her prayers, despite her irreverent mentality, you have finally returned to her.

With that, Jill lets her jaw drop and tongue fall. Greedily, yet savorly, she drags the muscle from the bottom of your sex to the top.

And the ecstatic delirium that floods her body rivals any drug she could ever pump into her system.

You yank against your restraints and cry from the sudden sensation, her hot breath against your most sensitive parts only adding to the overstimulation. A pleasured groan absconds from Jill's muffled mouth. She has teased this idea numerous times, but the fantasies she's had where she wondered how your essence would sit on her tongue, none of it compared to the real thing.

Better than the most arduous whiskey, better than the ripest fruits, better than water after an eternity spent in a desert. She'd give anything to spend the rest of her life down here.

"Jesus- fuck, baby." Her curses are muted due to the close contact, but with a licentious squelch, she casts her gaze to your face. "If I was on death row, I'd choose this as my last meal... Oh, I'd die a fuckin' saint."

The lewd noises and dirty talk only make you flush more. With your arms restrained, there's no shyly covering your face or hushing your salacious noises. You are entirely vulnerable to whatever Jill intends to put you through.

And as quick as she pulled back to express the thoughts running through her mind, she dives right back into you. There's no gradual descent, no build-up. Just an unadulterated, hungered frenzy that Jill takes out on your poor body. Every devouring suckle has your legs squirming, which she is able to hold down with ease. Nothing can prevent Jill from indulging in the absolute nirvana leaking out of you. Nothing.

Slurping and sucking like a goddamn vampire, you whimper about how the pleasure is too much for you to handle. A hushed chuckle escapes from Jill and reverberates through your entire body, the appending commotion sending a warm tremble down your spine. She could never stop so soon, not with your candied flavor and gorgeous sounds enveloping her like a soft embrace. 

Jill was never one to simply flick her tongue, either. No, she was insistent on having your juices explore every inch of her mouth, no matter if it strained her jaw or numbed her tongue. God, this woman was practically drunk on you.

“Could never be done with this pretty body, baby. Never.” Everything you are now experiencing has your brain blanking, entirely unable to process any of her words.

Even when you try to put on your best puppy-dog eyes, as it always makes her weak, she refused to abandon her desires. Your relentless pleas for mercy simply fall on deaf ears. Through all her snarky comments and cocky remarks, it's almost comical how the only way to shut her up was for you to just let her put her mouth all over you.

And everything is just so lewd, so sloppy, so rough. Crescent-moon shapes are carved into your thighs as she pins them down, allowing her greedy mouth further access. Satisfied groans escape from Jill as she just revels in how good it is to be smothered in the absolute love potion pouring into her mouth. Bony hands cling to your hips as she rolls you in a rushed rhythm, needily grinding you against her mouth. Lapping at you like a goddamn slushie, all you can do is lay back and accept the relentless torture. And God, it drives you fucking insane.

You don't even recognize yourself anymore; you've become reminiscent of a famous pornstar the way slobber leaks down your chin and how your moans bounce off the walls. And Jill is just drinking in this sight. She hopes that if she stares long enough, this image will forever be burned into her memory and imprinted behind her eyelids. An eternal porno crafted just for her.

With another flare of heat building, one far more intense than ever before, you truly begin to lose yourself in the whirlpool of soul-crushing pleasure. And every suck and churn of her tongue has your back arching uncontrollably, pushing you further and further to that edge.

Everything intensifies and before you can whimper out a warning, the mob within you releases and you practically gush onto Jill's face.

You cut off her animalistic grunts with the loudest sound you're positive you have ever made. Not even the screams of terror you let out back in Raccoon City could compare to the sheer volume that escapes your throat at this moment. Your entire body is enveloped in violent shivers, to where Jill has to cling to you to prevent the shocks from sending you to the ground. Her covetous tongue guzzles every last drop of you.

It isn't until she hears a cry framed with more pain than pleasure does she finally snap from her libido-filled daze. This doesn't prevent her from indulging in one last obnoxious slurp before finally parting from the best meal she has ever had.

From the jacket she had thrown indolently against the table, Jill reaches over and pulls out her rusted pocket knife. She scoots closer to your face, heart lurching when she sees the tears painting your cheeks. She wipes them clean with her thumb and presses a languid kiss to your sweat-ridden forehead.

Swiftly, Jill cuts the ties around your wrist while remaining ever-so careful to prevent harming your precious skin. Now free, you let out a feeble whimper and grasp hold of her shoulders, outright begging for her care. And Jill practically melts into a puddle at the sight. She encases her constricting arms around your waist and relishes in the way your wrap your arms firmly around her. God, you make her so fucking weak.

You never need to ask her for affection. She would give you absolutely anything.

"Sweet butterfly, you did so fuckin' good. 'Came so hard f'me."

You wrap your naked legs around Jill's form as a means to get even closer to her. In response, she has to keep the sudden flare of desire derived from the action at bay. She's put you through enough, after all. Someone as drop-dead gorgeous as you, anyone in their right mind would plead with the universe to feel those beautiful legs wrapped around them. However, she can't indulge in the fantasies that consisted of you latching onto her like this. Oh, another day. Another day...

When your brain is able to clear through all the dissipated fog, you find yourself in the bathroom with the woman who brought you pleasure you didn't know existed. Stifling water pours down your body, and you are locked in Jill's nude embrace.

Taking a shower with her — this was nothing out of the ordinary. For the five months you have spent here, she has always insisted on washing you with a myriad of excuses. From wishing to show you a new body wash to insisting you were too ill to do it by yourself, cleaning yourself alone is a privilege you haven't known in ages.

The scent of your favorite body wash now sits on your wet skin. Her calloused fingers massage the ambrosial suds into your body and you swear you could fall asleep from the peaceful rhythm. Pampering you, despite your assurances of how you can take care of yourself, is something she has always loved to do. With how easy it is to send you into a state of tranquility, it never fails to make her laugh. Like a sleepy puppy, she jokes to herself.

Ever so greedily, Jill grasps your jaw tenderly and ushers you to meet her gaze.

“C'mon, give me a kiss, baby. Taste how good I made you feel.”

In response, you make weary endeavors to place your lips against her chapped ones. She hums, how cute.

Taking the full initiative of effort, Jill moans as she molds her mouth against yours once again. Her tongue slithers in, allowing you to bask in the flavor she has developed a newfound addiction to. The act of affection is quick, considering how the heat of your nude body and your mouth against hers may push Jill into numbing your mind with pleasure, once more.

From here, she lets you rest your head against her shoulder and your tired body against her form. She continues to massage the fruit-scented soap into your skin, indulging in the satisfied hums she earns when she massages certain knots out of your muscles.

"Y'know, Carlos had a fuckin' field day when I took you back into the house. 'Thought I was murdering you in there, heh." You've been steered into such a meditative state, your exhausted brain fails to process any of Jill's words.

"It's a fuckin' miracle he let me be alone with you right now. 'Had to threaten him with telling you what I caught him doing with your sweater. Fuckin' idiot was so scared, he doesn't even know I already told you."

She presses an abiding kiss to your head before continuing.

"Do you remember, baby? Or were you too fucked out to use your head...? Kinda hard to listen to me when I'm fuckin' your brains out, huh?"

Other than being between your thighs, Jill could spend forever here.

Nights spent trying out facemasks with ridiculous scents, drawing hearts and your initials on the steamed shower walls, and the adoring giggle you give her when she lets you use her hair and face to make soap mohawks or soap beards. There is nothing in the universe that could equate to the ineluctable love Jill has for you. Absolutely nothing.

As every night goes, she massages fragranced lotions into your flesh and dresses you in cloud-soft pajama bottoms. This time, however, she reluctantly wraps one of Carlos' shirts around your form as compensation on his end for what she put you through.

Speaking of the devil, her fingers merely hover over the lock on the bathroom door and he is already trying to force his way in. With a hushed yell of "They're sleeping, can you chill the fuck out!?" Carlos is barrelling into the room, shoving past Jill, and rushing to where your unconscious body is resting on the bathroom counter.

In an instant, his always-gentle hands are on your body, checking for injuries, and faintly whimpers out "My baby" and "What did she do to you?" Jill rolls her eyes and scoffs at how dramatic he is. She would never hurt you, he should know that by now.

Carlos then brings you into his arms as if he were cradling a baby bird, carrying you out of the ensuite and to the lavish sheets of his bed. Two sets of glares at each other, as if they were teenage girls fighting for the heart of the dashing quarterback, and Jill begrudgingly leaves the bedroom.

Locking the door behind her, Carlos wastes no time in climbing beneath the expensive covers and enveloping you in an embrace. The anger poking at his sanity is eased from the warm weight of your body as he snuggles into you. You've always had a knack for mending even the worst parts of him, after all. Still, the rage provoked by what that monster put his precious bumblebee through simmers beneath the surface.

"I should have stopped it. I should have been there..." Carlos places a hand against your chest, searching for the sound that he is wholly convinced can mend any and all turmoil. "But, she would have taken you from me if I stopped her... I'm so sorry, my bumblebee..." The familiar ba-bump! beneath your flesh rivals a genuine lullaby.

Hours passed, and your heartbeat soothes Carlos into a deep slumber. Those protective arms never once weaken from around your body.

Moonlight now paints the bedroom and frames your face; Jill thinks you were painted by Da Vinci himself as she admires you in your unconscious state. The way you so frivolously make her heart grow without lifting a finger should be considered a crime. Though, the sight of you in handcuffs may convince her to give you a lighter sentence. Several gentle nudges to your arm and your eyes flutter open. A finger is pressed to your lips when you try and inquire about her intentions.

"Wanna get outta here?" The prospect of being out of this prison cell makes a smile grow on your lips. Slowly, you remove the constricting arms of Carlos from around your waist and escape the warm expanse of blankets.

Tip-toeing through the home, hushed giggles fill the silent air as you and Jill finally arrive at the garage. Another idea, albeit a bad one (once again, something she is notorious for), had sprouted in her mind. A quick ride on her new-and-improved motorcycle and you'll be back before Carlos even notices you're gone, she assures you. To let you momentarily venture away from this humble abode like a bratty child whose time-out has ended was all you truly wanted.

She has her signature battered jeans on with her biker jacket. Meanwhile, you're stood with your fluffy pajama bottoms, t-shirt beneath a chunky sweater (since Carlos insisted you'd get cold during the night), and bumblebee slippers. The teddy-bear necklace he gifted you is adorned around your neck, as well. You always feel a strange familiarity when you catch sight of the bumblebee necklace he is never seen without. Where have you seen it before?

You'd feel like a loser in her presence if it weren't for those damned heart eyes she's giving you. Jill loves you. So, so much. Even through everything that has happened in these few months, that much is for certain.

"C'mon, wasn't it you who said you wanted to test out the new ride? Or do you not remember that, either?" She taps the seat behind her as a gesture for you to join her.

You fumble to catch the spare helmet she chucks your way and copy how she fastens hers around her head. If you had learned anything that day, motorcycle logic is something you are certainly not familiar with.

Before you are able to sit in the exact spot you had lost all rational thought in just hours ago, Jill halts your actions. She stands to her feet and begins to scrutinize the state of your helmet, all to ensure everything is secure and protecting that pretty face of yours. Despite her reckless nature, anything that could jeopardize your safety has alarms blaring all throughout her thoughts. Still, you deserve to partake in the adrenaline-inducing excitement only she can bring.

Propping down onto the seat (correctly, this time), your arms hover around Jill's waist in an awkward attempt to respect boundaries. Impatient and needy as ever, she revs the engine and the sudden, thunderous roar has you clinging to her body in startlement. The sound will surely wake Carlos, despite his deep-sleeping nature. Swiftly, before the angered grizzly bear can storm out and drag you back to safety, Jill hastens down the long driveway surrounded by empty forestry.

Making a mental note of any potential landmarks was fruitless. There is absolutely nothing that could verify where on planet Earth you were right now. Through the grapevine, or just the instances you've eavesdropped on Jill and Carlos' arguments, this home you've resided in was apparently in Spain. Where exactly in Spain do the three of you live, you haven't a clue. Any inquiries you have expressed have been neglected.

She then accelerates her speed in a teasing manner just to feel you cling harder to her, knocking the thoughts from your brain. With the few vehicles that have passed by you both, you still make effort to scrutinize their identity. All attempts were jeopardized by Jill who sped past them. As a last resort, you had considered jumping from the bike and making an abrupt dash into the woods. However, with broken bones and no ears to listen to your cries for help, that plan was abandoned as quickly as it was formed. 

At least the sex is good, you shamefully muse to yourself.

It had only been a mere 20 minutes before you returned to the dirt roads leading to your "humble" abode. From the garage, you see how the golden kitchen light glimmers through the windows and you mentally prepare yourself for the hurricane swarming your way.

With how engrossed you were with your mind, you haven't processed how Carlos will react to you being out of his train of vision for more than several seconds.

Jill's boot knocks the kickstand into place, seemingly reveling in her last few moments before you'd inevitably be snatched away from her. Despite how malleable Carlos was with a few empty threats regarding you, she knows that she crossed a line and nothing will make him bend. Still, she has no regrets whatsoever. Any moment with you is absolute paradise, no matter what consequences may follow afterward.

As if you were two teenagers who snuck out past curfew, you both walk through the front door with your tails between your legs. When you had fully expected Carlos to sprint over to you, the entire opposite happens. Upon your sudden entrance, all he does is sit at the kitchen island, staring blankly into the empty counter. The clutching of his fists, the bulge above his brow, the strain of his clenched jaw — all the telltale signs show that he is absolutely enraged. And the sheer aura of his fury is enough to make you capitulate into the corner.

An arrogant remark sits right on the edge of Jill's lips, but with a wave of your hand, you stop and assure her of how you can handle whatever tantrum is imminent. Approaching slowly, as if Carlos were a feral animal ready to maul anything that moves, you tread behind the island and halt straight across from him.

"I... I wore a helmet...?" You cringe at your own attempt at reassurance.

Face sheen with enmity, Carlos merely turns his head gradually and shifts his full attention to Jill. For the very first time in five months, your presence is ignored. It is almost as if you aren't even there.

You go on a clumsy tangent about how the entire stunt was not devoid of any safety precautions. Still, Carlos' full attention remains on Jill, who stands complacent as she practically revels in his dismay. Day after day, she has always won against him. Twisting his words, pulling his strings, declaring empty threats — he yields to her time after time. How terrified he is of the capability she has to destroy what little piece of you he has.

At this moment, however, this wrath within him has boiled over like a soup left behind on a burning stove. And the way he now looks at her is terrifying. If she goes missing before dawn, you won't be surprised.

In an attempt to save you from your awkward (albeit too-fucking adorable) rambling, Jill opens her mouth to deliver an eloquent explanation. She is able to verbalize a mere syllable before Carlos slams his fist into the countertop, the surface cracking beneath the force of his strength. You cower away from the sudden shift in his energy, which he fails to notice.

Standing abruptly, he charges at Jill in three large strides. Winding his arm back, he surges his fist forward and strikes her in the nose. She grunts, stumbling in her stance from the contact. The room is overwhelmed by silence, accompanied by two sets of panting breaths. Jill spits out a large web of blood onto the hardwood floors and without flinching, she forces her nose back into place with a gut-wrenching crack.

Entirely flabbergasted, you merely stand like a dumbfounded fool while you watch the following events play out.

"That's all 'ya got, pussy? C'mon, man. Hit me!" A smile painted with blood stretches on her face and Carlos ignites with rage. He wants her fucking dead.

Another strike lands on her face once more, to where she slumps to her knees when her legs fail her. Quirking her head, she looks up to Carlos with that annoyingly-smug smirk. Coughing out a bitter chuckle, Jill can't refrain from expressing how hilarious she finds Carlos' pathetic attempt at taking you from her. The way he stands before her, so overwhelmed with farcical rage. How can expect her not to burst out laughing from the pitiful sight?

And without words, the tense gaze they share with one another expresses the same declaration. No matter how much blood is spilled, you can't take them away from me. Using the wall for stability, Jill is able to lift herself from the ground, sharp eyes still attached to Carlos' glower.

"You want a fucking piece of me!? I'll kill you right now, pack my shit, and then take Y/N somewhere you won't ever hurt them again!" The second the words fall from his mouth, that familiar, pompous expression plastered on Jill's face suffers from an abrupt shift.

The sheer audacity this man has to feel entitled to you baffles her. Especially after such undeserving kindness she has shown him. Informing him of your location in Umbrella's sanctuary, the mere act of allowing him in your presence was far more than he could ever deserve. Every day of the past six years had been spent tearing her soul to indistinguishable shreds before sculpting every piece back. And like Hell, she'd let this underdog rid her of the most important thing in her life.

A gasp is precipitously torn from you when Jill withdraws her pocket knife from her leather jacket. With a swift stab and a loud roar, Carlos manages to block her efforts. Still, he remained one second too late when she managed to slice into his arm. He squalls from the harrowing contact but is swift in his recovery.

Despite the blood rushing down his forearm, he surges another punch toward her face. Jill is able to dodge his angry fist, dropping her beloved knife, before launching a brutal blow to his jaw. The force sends Carlos tumbling to the ground with a harsh clamor. After several years of heavy lifting to relieve stress, Jill has built quite a lot of strength. Carlos, as well, but the sheer rage she now possesses could combat even the strongest of brutes.

She punts the knife across the floor and away from his reaching grasp, hereby declaring to send this man to his demise with her bare hands. Straddling him, he has no time to defend himself when she begins to send punch after punch wherever her fists can land.

"Try that shit and I'll gut you like a fuckin' fish!" Jill's newfound tone is reminiscent of an actual monster. The tone has you shuddering in your stance as you can only stare in sheer dread.

The sight of splattered blood and blooming bruises causes nausea to squirm in your stomach like an unwelcome insect. All the words and pleas you wish to scream out are seemingly trapped in the expanse of your throat. Trying to physically separate the two rabid animals may cause you to be harmed in the crossfire. You fear what infantilizing, guilt-ridden treatment you may receive upon that probability. Instead, in a quick flare of rationality, you conjure up an idea you are positive will end this sudden explosion of violence. An idea you know will make them weak.

Without a second thought, the words are spilling from your mouth in a desperate shout.

"I'M LEAVING!"

Voice cracking and laced with awkward nerves, your sudden uproar still succeeds in capturing both of their attention. And the alter in their behavior is so abrupt, it is almost as if they weren't ever at each other's throats. In seconds, they're scrambling to their feet and rushing to your aid, the bloodied knife and fallout of savagery now nonexistent.

"You've seen there's nothing out there for miles, you'd be chow for the wolves!" Jill's voice has returned to the familiar tone she has claimed for you.

Eyes now shimmering with the desperate softness you're so amicable with, it is bewildering how swift these two are to team up when they need it the most.

"Not much different than what's in here..."

If it was audible, the sound of their hearts shattering would burst your eardrums from the sheer mass. Carlos' reaction is overtly emotional, as he always is. Jill perceptibly abates from your words, the sudden sorrow enveloping her expression a shock to you. That collected nature she always acquires crumbles right before your very eyes.

Before she can cling to you and vow to give you whatever it is you want, as long as you stay, Carlos falls to his knees and grasps your full attention. With his head against the floor and his hands clinging to your legs, he proceeds to grovel for you. Warm tears cascade onto your feet and you discern how the raging storm has finally eased. All that is left now is the sound of Carlos' raucous crying and Jill's stressed suspires.

Casting his gaze upwards, Carlos' face is twisted from the sobs jutting out of his body. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, so, so, so, sorry. Hit me, stab me, skin me, do anything! Just... Just don't leave me...”

A gentle hand to your forearm and Jill is whispering of how it's time for you to go to bed. You clench your teeth, ready to inquire if she was genuinely serious. However, the notable guilt in her manner informs you of the actual demand she asks of you. Please, end this. It is only you who can calm us. 

From this revelation, you oblige by her orders and begin to stride away from this mess. To feel you move from his tenacious touch, further away from him, Carlos suddenly springs to his feet. He envelops you with his full body weight, another whimper of "don't leave me" whispered into your neck. Never weakening his grasp, you guide him out of the kitchen and you both amble together to Carlos' bedroom. Meanwhile, Jill plants her head in her bruised hands, a sigh of defeat escaping her from how disastrous she has let this day become.

Tonight, Carlos sought any inkling of solace you have. Anything to promise him you are still here with him.

Attempting to flick off the lamplight, your efforts were futile when he practically chucks you into the comforters. Despite his aggression to keep you close (and away from that barbarian), he holds you as if he were handling glass. As he always does.

With a heavy-set preference, he adores sleeping in any position that grants him the privilege of listening to your heartbeat and inhaling your wondrous scent. The combining senses serve as an enlightening reminder that you are alive and here with him. This night was certainly no different, as Carlos clambers into bed with you, albeit clumsily due to his large figure. He then nuzzles his head between the expanse of your shoulder and neck comfortably.

The human-weighted blanket resting on top of you mollifies your exhausted body. Carlos has an earthy scent, like Summer air and fresh grass right after a rainstorm. It soothes you into dreamland and this fact fills you with shame, as well. This sudden contrast in your life doesn't fog your judgment entirely, though. With every day the rain falls, you have come to learn several new things.

Oh, how Carlos Oliveira loves the scent of Y/N L/N.

It is evident throughout every day, where fragments of his obsession are sprinkled into every moment you spend together.

Taking a deep inhale, the serenity that courses through his bones causes his eyes to roll back into his skull. How absolutely serene it is to feel your fingers combing through his thick hair, arms adorned around his brawny figure, and tender lips pressed to his forehead. His cries, now reduced to soft whimpers, tickle against your skin.

No matter the circumstances, being enveloped in your embrace as the day comes to an end will always make his heart swell. To climb into bed and find the most beautiful, breathtaking sight at the edge of his fingertips — there is no bliss quite like it.

The aroma that sent him to heaven six years ago, how he had searched high and low for anything reminiscent of it. A multitude of soaps, air fresheners, perfumes, laundry detergent, and just anything that contained a similar scent to you encircled his home. Despairingly, he has tried to recreate this and pretended it was your fragrance pervading from your warm, lively body. Nevertheless, his efforts were futile.

The scent you possessed was evocatively ambrosial, but it was utterly human. It was so unique, he felt like a fool for believing something as mere as a lit candle or a stick of deodorant could ever replicate that perfection.

At this moment, however, Carlos inhales your scent from your body as if he couldn't breathe. And he is positive there is nothing in the world that could rival the sheer euphoria it gives him. Within minutes, the man using you as his personal mattress begins to snore like a lawn mower. Soon, you fall asleep within his tenacious embrace, as well.

Once morning draws and you blink into consciousness, you find yourself entirely by your lonesome. No clinging Carlos, no amorous Jill. Just sheer, unadulterated solitude. You hadn't realized how familiar the prospect of waking up with company had become, especially after years of early-morning seclusion. The rain still falls; the birds still sing. And for the first time in months, you are alone.

This revelation is short-lived when the man who had clung to you for the entire night soon enters the bedroom. The wound on his arm has since been tended to, the bruises left behind are now affixed to his skin, and his face is puffy from the tears that cascaded just hours before. Through all of this, an almost-manic smile is planted on his face. All as if nothing had ever happened.

A delectable scent follows his presence when he brings a serving cart into the room. On the cart, he had perfected a myriad of dishes for you to enjoy. A stack of French toast, a steaming frittata, scattering scones, multiple parfaits, and numerous other gourmet dishes you can't even dream of pronouncing the names of. All of this for three people, you fear that Carlos will make you devour every last crumb and the ongoing effects it will have on your poor stomach. The way he normally does to ensure you aren't left hungry, as every morning consisted of something along these themes.

In this case, however, the belligerent display of affection and the lingering shadow of last night's events differ immensely from what you had adapted to.

Gleefully, Carlos sits at the edge of the bed beside you and drapes a bed tray upon your lap. A mug painted in your favorite color is full of tea and sits on an neighboring coaster, while he sits and waits anxiously for you to pick your first dish of the day.

When you notice the single set of cutlery, reserved for just you and him to share, you furrow your brows. Where is Jill's set? And why hasn't she prevented him from cooking such an obnoxious amount of food? 

Carlos' body goes rigid the instant you speak her name. With an alarmingly flat tone, he claims that she is gone for "work purposes," and despite your hesitance to believe him, he speaks of nothing but the truth.

After such a vicious outburst, Jill had humbly concluded that her relentless torture against Carlos must falter. Not for his sake, but for yours. Now, she will gift him a single day (nothing more) to entirely immerse himself in your healing presence, the same way a child needs to snuggle their teddy bear after a nightmare. While she is away, however, you and your well-being are stamped in her mind and prevent her from completing any work. It makes her sick with worry.

The event affected all three of you, physically and mentally. The several seconds spent with Carlos informed you entirely of his current state, but Jill remained a mystery.

And when Carlos had first entered the bedroom, the sight of your bleary eyes and drooping eye bags almost made him burst into tears right then and there. Unfortunately, he had broken down several times during his tireless efforts to make you an entire buffet for breakfast. However, with what little strength he was able to muster, Carlos is able to dry his tears in your presence. Still, he cannot ponder how you may have feared him in that moment or he might just collapse into a mental breakdown on the floor.

His hands, slower and softer than ever before, find their way to your face. Cupping your cheeks, you find a tornado of swirling emotions within his eyes. Devastation, regret, devotion, guilt, obsession. It is bewildering and terrifying in the same vein.

"You know, last night, I..." The featheriness within his voice is a major contrast to the infuriated uproar you witnessed last night. "I thought you were gone. For good. Still, I… I should have controlled myself. I should have stopped Jill from taking you away, I mean you could've-..."

When those all-too-familiar tears prick at his eyes and threaten to fall, you know his strength has been worn thin. "I just- I-I don't know what I would do if you-"

Carlos cuts himself off with a cracked sob. A wobbly "I'm sorry" is whispered before he excuses himself and abruptly leaves the bedroom. The sounds of his unruly sobs follow him in his footsteps.

After such an intense evening, the consequences of the aftermath haven't truly settled in for you until this moment. Enveloped in silence, you ponder over how one sentence of yours had led to such a disastrous outcome. You contemplate how you had merely met these two in a random city and set them on a lifelong quest to make you forever theirs. At this moment, you question just how much you are capable of.

Plucking a random plate from the tray, you grasp hold of the cutlery and dig into the succulent dish. You eat alone for the first time in five months. You don't know what you have done, but you know you have to clean this mess. Might as well have some fun before it depreciates...

Caring for you, it is certainly no secret how much Carlos enjoys the act. With every assurance you are not some impotent child, all efforts fall on deaf ears. Though, you realize you may be able to mold this to your benefit.

Tending to your every need, it is not done out of upholding a burden. You can take care of yourself, but you do not have to. The look of gratitude you give Carlos when you thank him is reward enough.

This leaves him in Jill's ensuite bathroom, where a hamper overwhelmed with dirty clothes resides in the corner. Being your devoted house-husband practically makes him giddy, so the sight is never onerous in the slightest. Jill, being the slob at heart, did leave a few articles of clothing on the ground, despite the hamper being mere feet away. As irritating as this was, Carlos merely decorates his brain with delusions of the two of you living alone together. This phenomenon has aided him through his efforts in enduring her presence, living in his imagination where you and he live happily ever after. Far, far away.

The sole reason Carlos was not glued to your side at this exact moment was due to how he had just put you in bed for your afternoon nap. Your insistent remarks of how you do not need to sleep in the middle of the day, once again, fall on deaf ears. You have no choice but to rest while he tends to every burden of yours; all responsibilities you possess have now become his. And he could not possibly be happier.

At first, you had stubbornly stood by your exclamation that it would be impossible for you to fall asleep. However, with closed curtains enveloping the room in darkness, peaceful incense pervading the air, soft lullabies harmonizing from speakers, and comforters that could rival lambswool snuggled around you, it didn't take long for you to succumb.

With you now fast asleep, Carlos works hastily, yet thoroughly, around the house so he can return to the love den where you lie. Rubbing circles into your back that soothe you further into sleep, it never fails to make him beam with happiness. And despite his tireless efforts, the disgusting scent of Jill reeking from her clothes protrudes into his beloved fantasy.

A sneer forms on his lips as he pinches the garments with his fingers, touching as little of them as he could, before chucking them into the hamper. The force of the launch sends the entire hamper tumbling over, to where the mess of dirty laundry scatters amongst the clean tiles. He grumbles, once again using minimum effort to collect Jill's clothing while cooing upon holding every crumbled attire that belongs to you.

As he returns the laundry to its respectful place within the hamper, Carlos gleefully grasps hold of one of your henley shirts. What lies beneath causes him to freeze, however.

Shamefully, he salivates at the sight of your underwear.

Several times, this offer has tempted him. To revel in how your essence wafts from the garb, any sane human would want to breathe in that scent forever. But he is not like others; he is stronger than them. For you, he will tie his immense cravings to a leash and restrain them, however long and tight you seem fit.

Due to recent events, however, the structured guard he built brick-by-brick has suffered numerous blows. All at the hands of Jill Valentine. There is not a place in the universe where you could be a burden to him, but her? She is the only reason why anger still makes a home within him.

Carlos needs you. He selfishly needs every last sliver of you, everything Jill had robbed him of the previous day. The self-control he prided himself on has seemingly abandoned him. Then again, how could he control himself when this opportunity has fallen from the hands of God and directly into the palm of his hands? How could he control himself when the purest form of you sits right there, practically calling out his name in the sound of your voice?

With that, he rips the bandaid off. Faster than the speed of light, he yanks your underwear into his hands and practically shoves them into his nostrils. And Carlos moans, so loud and blatant, as the fragrance of you invades every sense in his body.

Familiar, but suddenly overwhelmingly sweltering, a tightness forms within his pants. His vision goes black as his eyes roll into the back of his skull, a sudden flash of light then enveloping his eyesight; his knees resort to jelly, to where he has to cling to the edge of the bathroom counter to maintain his balance. The other hand still clenches your underwear protectively and dependently, as if he were an Art Conservator and he was holding the beautiful Mona Lisa. Oh, it is absolute heaven.

"Is that my...?"

As quick as he had practically inhaled the garment entirely, Carlos had rid his body of the pleasure induced by your scent when your dulcet voice filled the bathroom. Tossing the clothing with the others in the hamper, he pretends to lean against the counter with a rushed "what?" coming out in a quiet squeak. He stands with a hot face provoked by utter humiliation. How did he not hear the door open?

However, there is no loathing or repugnance in your expression, like he had originally anticipated. There's a look of hubris that washes over you when your brain scrutinizes just what you had stumbled upon. An unfamiliar glint sparks in your eyes that he is unable to read. It intrigues him, still.

Mere seconds feel like an agonizing eternity as he stands in the depths of his selfish libido. Instead of cursing Carlos out for his perverted nature, as he, once again, had originally anticipated, you do the very last thing he expected. Your fingers grasp the hem of your shirt before you pull the garb from off your form. And the preposterous gasp that is exuded from him in response almost forces a boisterous laugh out of you.

Your pants follow after, the soft whomp of the clothing hitting the ground remaining the loudest sound in the silent, reticent room. Lastly, you slowly strip yourself of your underwear, the very last thing protecting you from exposure. And you don't have to shift your gaze to know this man's wide eyes are glued to every inch of your naked skin.

"If you like my clothes that much, all you had to do was ask! I have so much already, take as much as you'd like..." The feigned generosity seeping from your tone does not mend the disorder within Carlos' pants.

Hooking your finger around your undergarments, you stride toward the man who is left entirely flabbergasted by your actions.

Chest-to-chest, you speak to him in a low whisper. "Wouldn't you rather have something fresh, anyways?"

You use your free hand to toy with the edge of his shirt, admiring the way his strong physique juts against the fabric. When your finger makes contact with the raw flesh of his abdomen, Carlos heaves out an uneven, stuttered breath. Almost as if he had run a marathon, your mere touch sends him tripping face-first into oblivion. The firm hand he placed upon the counter surface hastens into a desperate gasp to keep his balance, once again.

Just when Carlos had thought he had stumbled upon the gates of heaven, you purr out praises that make his eyes roll back into his head for the nth time. How strong he was when he defended your life back in Raccoon City to how he always managed to carry the groceries with one hand. Your candied words provoke a dreamy sigh out of him.

The silence on his end is bridging on the cusp of awkward. His gaze is hazy and drooping as Carlos stares into your eyes, nowhere else.

"S-Sleep..." You could hear a pin drop before you could discern his nervous tone. "You should... You-You should be sl- sleeping..."

"Alone? Or... Would you rather I sleep with you?" Another gasp flees from Carlos. His entire body breaks out into a shiver from your implications.

As much as his brain practically pleads him not to, he shifts his gaze away from you and to the boring ceiling in a weak attempt at maintaining courtesy. The single act is more difficult than any obstacle he has faced in his entire life.

As shameful as it is, however, Carlos has thought of this scene plenty of times. How he fantasized about enhancing the flavor of his food by mixing your delectable juices with the dish. How he winced listening to every pained whimper Jill pulled from you, but how his active imagination was contaminated with visions of gratifying you more than she ever could. You deserve every inkling of happiness the world has to offer and Carlos vows on doing everything within his power to grant you such.

The garment once in your hand is now long forgotten on the bathroom floor. Your pretty fingers barely hover over the expanse of his happy trail, adorned in thick heaps of jet-black hair. And he goes lightheaded from the faint contact alone.

You've already taken notice of the way his member protrudes through his jeans, but it is now clear as day how desperate Carlos wishes for you to choose him instead of your afternoon nap. Fortunately for him, you venture further, further, and further into his pants until your hand cups around his cock, nothing but the thin layer of his underwear separating you two. Carlos is never one to swear around you, (except for last night, but that is irrelevant) claiming you deserve tender praises instead of such violent language. Though, when you touch him, he growls out the most guttural "fuck!" you've ever heard part from someone's lips.

Perceiving how something wet leaks through his underwear, you furrow your brows as the revelation settles. Did you bring this man to orgasm just from being naked? No wonder it is always Jill who washes you... 

This should have been evident in the sudden acceleration of his breathing, the dreamy, lust-stained glimmer engulfing his eyes, or the way his body trembles as if had been stuck in a mid-Winter storm. He practically chucks his head back and rests against the bathroom mirror; his chopped fingernails could tear the counter in two with how firm he clenches onto the surface.

More gasps and soft whines escape his slack jaw, obviously abstaining from screaming how good you make him feel. And every pant of your name escaping his breathless self causes flares of heat to imbue your body.

More assembles of pre-cum amalgamate with the previous mass of still-warm seed and bleed through the fabric. You lift his shirt a mere inch to allow you easier access. But, Carlos is swift to obey what he assumed to be your command and he eagerly tears his shirt over his head.

A heavy set of mouthwatering abs sheen with sweat, a display of disheveled chest hair, and two pairs of beefy, scar-ridden arms is what you are met with. You do not put any effort into masking your obvious gawking of Carlos' build. And he is elated to have your eyes on him.

When he had assumed Jill took you from him the day before, never to be seen again, this heavy dread has sat cozy in his gut since. Today, to have your full attention on him as he presents how every inch of his skin is for you to own, the pressure lightens and flutters away like a Monarch Butterfly.

“Oh, my g- my goddd" Carlos whines out after one particular harsh thrust of your palm.

He begins to twitch in your grasp when your efforts accelerate; his eyebrows curl upwards beneath the canopy of his mop-head hair. Carlos hasn't dared to shift his eyes down to you. Out of reason of deference, as you deserve. Though, he knows as a genuine fact that a single glance at your naked body, intense gaze, and the sight of your hands all over him would thrust him like a football into an earth-bending finish.

Restraining himself was an absolute pipedream, however. Your voice, your touch, and your scent pervade and overwhelm all senses within him. When your nimble fingers ghost over the sensitive expanse of his balls, he almost keels over and can't obstruct the words that bubble in his throat.

“You're gonna- You're gonna make me cum again...!” Promptly, you then yank your hand from the warm depths of Carlos' pants, practically roistering in the way he genuinely cries from the loss of contact.

When you expect him to initiate a swarm of stuttering beseeches to please continue, please make him feel good, please send him to the absolute nirvana only you can give him, you are met with the opposite, instead. Much to your surprise, he begins to thank you profusely, over and over and over again.

To beg you for anything would go against all of Carlos' morals, as every breath out of your mouth is pure gospel. And he'd be damned if he were to ever let himself be selfish with you, hence why he drowns you in gratitude for ever-so kindly giving him even just a speck of pleasure. He does not deserve more of you; it should be him on his knees at this moment, worshiping all of you.

The facade you had painted with confidence begins to crack when you become genuinely concerned for his well-being. You had only fondled him for less than a minute, had you broken him already? 

The way he's heaving and gasping ushers you to believe he may blackout on the countertop. You wonder what Jill would think if she came home to found Carlos shirtless and unconscious on her bathroom counter, while you stand entirely naked with cum caked onto your hand. The thought is snatched from your mind when he begins to speak, almost as if he had magically sensed your attention reverting to her.

"Y/N... My-My honey, I can't stand just sitting here..." His adam's apple bobs when he swallows the salivation foaming in his mouth.

"Please let- Please let me make you feel good... Ask anything of me and it’ll be yours. There is nothing in this world I would ever deny you..." Carlos' tangent appeared like a bolt out of the blue.

Although your veneer had minor fractures due to your own shock, you still upheld your smug guise. With his eyes shut, still not daring to bask his undeserving gaze on your saintly body, you answer him with the same tone that never fails to make his knees weak.

"Take me to the bedroom."

Peeling his eyes open and casting his gaze on you, Carlos searches your expression for any sign of falter in truth. Another tremble reverberates through his body when he blesses his vision with the sight of you. After all, no matter how far he has fallen into the depths of enrapturement, any demand you throw his way will immediately be met.

He then clumsily stands to his feet. Fully expecting to walk there together, you take a single step away before a sudden yelp is pulled from you. With pure ease, you are suddenly scooped into Carlos' strong arms. When you encase your arms around his neck, the clammy state of his skin catches you off guard. Without a single speck of sweat on your entire body, you're perplexed he had been driven to such an exerted physical state from your trivial palm.

With how exhausted every fraction of Carlos seemed to be because of you, your heart caves. You shuffle from your spot in his arms and attempt to usher him down to the bed, where you would sit atop his body. This demand, despite his winning strike with following all, was rejected. His tender hands halt you from your efforts and hoist you back into his hold, once more.

"I'm sorry, honey-bee, but I-I can't let you work. Please- Please lay back and let me do everything I can to make you feel good... It's what you deserve; it's what I need." Even if you had turned his brain would mush, his relentless obligation to serve you could conquer through anything.

Arriving at your shared bed, Carlos drapes you among the silken sheets and is just in sheer awe of you. The atmosphere is uncomfortable as he hovers over you and just leers into the abyss of your soul. You then resort to pulling him against you by the back of his neck and enveloping him in an aggressive kiss.

The way Carlos kisses you has always been overwhelmed with reverent fervor. Now, however, there's a perceptible undertone of intense avidity in the way he molds his mouth against yours. And in the absolute best way possible, your scent overwhelms him like Summer sunlight beating against his skin.

Carlos has teased this idea numerous times, but the fantasies he's had where he wondered how your scent would sit in his nostrils, none of it compared to the real thing. Better than a crisp breeze in a mountaintop meadow, better than garden-fresh flowers, better than air after an eternity spent beneath the water. He'd give anything to spend the rest of his life with you.

Pulling away to allow your tight lungs the privilege of oxygen, Carlos immediately begins to fill the air with feverish, puddle-brained chatter. “Honey... Y/N... M’gonna take such good care of you, 'gonna do everything I can to make you happy. Won’t let anything happen to you, won’t let anything or anyone upset you... 'Gonna make you so happy.” 

A tug to his belt loop and Carlos obeys quicker than you could ever verbalize your desire. He tears his jeans off as if the garb had been on fire, exposing his toned legs adorned with dark hair.

Reaching your hand out just an inch, he seems to have read your mind and carries out your unspoken demand, once again. He strips himself of his underwear, to where he now towers over your form entirely naked. And you have to restrain yourself from physically expressing your astonishment at the sight. When you had thought you had drawn an accurate picture of him while your hand was exploring downstairs, you hadn't prepared yourself for how everything would sit before your eyes.

The most perceivable sight was how much girth Carlos possessed and the slight tinge of fear you felt for what it may do to your body. With a rough estimation of nine inches, his sticky tip blares an annoyed red, the same hue as his desperation. His happy trail had led to even more heaps of bushy hair. A prominent vein runs diagonally down his curved shaft. The thickness grows in width from the base to the very tip of his cock. A set of heavy balls, the same expanse of sensitive skin that had him shaking beneath you, sit beneath.

“You deserve everything, Y/N. You- you deserve it all. Please... Please tell me everything... Tell me what I can give you, I-I'll give it all to you...” The lack of vocal indications on your end has taken quite a toll on him. No verbal commands sent his way and he's on the verge of tears.

Your words, your body, your scent — everything about you has Carlos stumbling to another early finish. His lips seem glued to yours, as well. Tongues cemented together as his hands caress all over your perfect body.

With his heartbeat skyrocketing, his figure tense with shock, and the way his chest rises and falls with heaving breaths, it was crystal clear just how hard he was resisting the urge to give in and fuck you into the next week. But, you're his sweet bumblebee, his darling deity. To be so selfish with you would make him deserving of a punishment worse than death.

“Carlos..." He nods in response to you so eagerly, you wonder if the force had sent his brain slamming against the walls of his skull. "... I want you to fuck me and fill me up over and over again until there’s no possible way I can escape the happiness you bring me.”

The growl that erupts in response to your filthy words was something akin to an animal. His hands, now propped against the side of your head to prop himself up, now clench the bedsheets with enough force to rip them.

Eyes practically burning holes into his, you grasp hold of his dick and revel in the way he trembles in response, before aligning him with your entrance. Appallingly, a tube of scentless lube had been hidden in the bedside drawer for the entire five months you've been here. Just waiting for this moment.

Now entirely slick with lube and pre-cum (you wouldn't be surprised if Carlos' tears were in that mix, as well), you playfully nudge his bulbous head against the edge of your hole. For the second time that day, your free hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him into another burning kiss. With a deep inhale of preparation, you slide him into you with steady effort.

And the way Carlos whimpers against your mouth makes you inadvertently clench around him.

With the mere tip inside of you, his voice raises several octaves and his eyebrows furrow from the sensations flooding his body. The kiss is broken by Carlos involuntarily, to where his open mouth moans against yours shamelessly. His mind is plagued by every inch of euphoria he didn't think was humanly possible to conjure, to a point where any rational thought had been robbed.

The further your silken walls adjust to his girth, the more you guide him inside. Every whine, every moan, every breathless tangent about you're perfection in all of its glory — it has you hazy with salacious desire. His hands continue to fondle you passionately and his lips still plant love all over your face and neck. You never thought someone could treat you with such doting care, especially after Jill's rough tactics from the day prior.

When he is entirely buried within you, it ejects an abrupt sound out of both of you. A gasp escapes your throat from how full you are at this moment. Two lanky fingers had nothing on the sheer girth of this cock sitting inside of you. Carlos practically yelps at the feeling of being swathed in your heavenly heat. The revelation of what is happening finally settles and he can hardly contain the sheer exhilaration that seeps from his body.

The tears that had been bridging in his eyes release and cascade down his cheeks, another physical representation of how devastatingly devoted he is to you. The number of curses and pornographic moans he releases into your ear seem almost exaggerated, but if Carlos is anything, he is surely not a liar. To lie to you, of all people, would be pure sin.

“I can’t lose you to her...” He babbles mindlessly yet honestly, “I’m so fucking obsessed with you, I-... I really can’t lose you, baby-bee... You’re taking me too fucking good. God, please!”

"Aww, you poor thing..." You mockingly coo to him. "Are you 'gonna cum already? You said you'd take care of me, but here you are saying all this dumb gibberish just from having your dick inside of me."

Unbeknownst to you, the 'dumb gibberish' you assumed to be the product of a sex-drunk mind was the unadulterated truth.

You thought of his state as pitiful, but if you had known how every plead of his was genuine, you surely would not poke the bear. Meanwhile, every gentle thrust has Carlos whimpering and crying as the sheer love he has for you devastates his entire being. You could degrade him, insult him, beat him to within an inch of his life and he would still come back to you again and again. All as if he was born for the sole reason of making love to you. As if God crafted his mind, his body, and his soul for the sole purpose of bringing you pleasure.

And as endearing as the slow, sensual motions were, you have now fully adjusted to his size and you were craving more of what his body is capable of giving you.

"You said you'd do anything for me, yeah?" His reserved attention escapes from your body the second your voice pervades, to where he nods avidly without hesitation.

"Then fuck me like you mean it."

A hand against his tailbone, you usher him to accelerate his speed. And to call his rhythm messy would be generous.

Riddled with gut-wrenching pleasure, Carlos can hardly keep the pace he had used for the one-night stands he had years ago. Every random bar hopper or coworker he had in his sheets was nothing short of utterly boring. Still, he enjoyed the inflation they gave to his ego when they moaned in annoying tones about how he was the "best fuck of their life." With you beneath him, all finesse and skill had been fogged by the sheer eroticism he possesses for you.

Since you had waltzed into his life, those random hookups dulled so obnoxiously in comparison to you, not a single soul could get his blood pumping the way you do. Not that he ever attempted, however. Any attempt at buying him a drink or fluttering their lashes would be met with an unforeseen roar of fury. To interrupt the time he spent with you in his head was a death wish, after all.

In present time, more importantly, Carlos begins to plunge into you with religious fervor. Those muscles you could never grow tired of admiring become taut as they strive to send his dick as deep as it can go. His strong, dominant physique does not match the noises tumbling from his mouth, however. Labored praises and desperate wails pant against your face before he delves into another frenzied kiss of millions.

With what little knowledge that managed to survive the muddled storm reigning havoc within his brain, Carlos uses his free hand to stimulate your sex. You throw your head back against the cushioned pillows from the new, sudden flare of pleasure. Instead of the boost it gave to his self-esteem, the way it did with others, it feels as though someone had clenched his heart with their fist. To know he is making you feel good has no difference with absolute heaven.

The sensation of his cock twitching within the expanse of your walls has you giggling from how ephemeral he lasts.

"Are you gonna fill me to the fucking brim? Have me walk around the house with your hot cum leaking down my thighs? Let Jill see how fucking good you make me feel?"

“Fucking-" The way Carlos growls is almost monstrous. A grunt follows at the prospect of claiming you from Jill.

"Yeah? You like that idea?"

“God-fucking-damn, you know how much I fucking love that idea." The voice that had grown high-pitched had suffered from a sudden descent, his tone was now entirely guttural. Despite this, his hands always remain tender and those whimpers still sit on his tongue.

Carlos pulls his body upwards, grasping hold of your legs and setting them on his shoulders. Now in a mating press, your nipples and sweaty skin are practically snuggled into the hairy expanse of his chest. He cages his forearms around your head, hastening his sporadic assault inside of you.

The sudden force has your eyes crossing and your head dizzy with jubilation; the lavish bed frame squeals with every thrust sent into your body. That smug facade you had crafted for this event begins to melt into the sheets. From the bliss claiming your body and how overwhelmingly loved you feel, that familiar heat inside your gut intensifies. Feeling the absolute paradise of your walls begin to flutter around him, Carlos is completely lost in empyrean ecstasy at the sight of you so overwhelmed with happiness. Still, you deserve more. You deserve happiness that even he cannot give you, but he is more than willing to hunt down every sliver. 

I can't let you go, Carlos thinks to himself, If anything tried to take you from me, I'm scared of who I'd become...

"Please, honey... Please cum for me. Need to- Need you to feel good. Need you to cum around me. I don't care about me, I only care about you. Please, I-I'm begging you... Please..." It seems as though the heavy set of balls slapping against your ass weren't begging to release inside of you. Everything and anything is for you, after all.

In spite of your egoistic nature being squished with every thrust, a fraction of it remained.

"I'll cum if..." You teasingly bring your finger to your chin as if you were deep in thought, while Carlos anticipates your response. "I'll cum if you can tell me the first tooth I lost and how old I was..."

I've got him there, you muse to yourself. You entertain what kind of mindless delirium he'll plead out for you when it's impossible for him to guess the answer.

"Second premolar. Five years old."

The five words are said within a single breath.

And you don't have much of a chance to delve into how the fuck he knew that, not when his cock is sending you to cloud nine.

You retort with another demand, pretending you had never tried to make such a senseless joke in the first place.

"I... I'll only cum if you cum, too. 'Wanna feel your load inside me, 'wanna have proof of how good you treat me."

Carlos practically explodes into you from the words you whimpered out.

There is no build-up; your mere words control his body like a puppeteer and have him spilling out into your guts. A pleasured bleat, one that would emulate even the most expensive worker at a high-end brothel, escapes from him. Like some sort of slut he doesn't recognize, he wails out incoherent, babbling words of devotion.

Thick, sticky, warm seed paints your walls and oozes onto the fancy sheets below. Still, the sheer power of his thrusts does not waver in the slightest. Even with the fatigue settling into his body, Carlos' cock hardens instantaneously in response to your heat swathing around him.

“Finding me in RC that night was the worst mistake of your life.” Even in the face of the absolute mess you have turned him into, Carlos' voice still contains that deep, husky tone that sends chills down your body. “You’ll never be rid of me now. Wherever you go, I will follow. You will never escape my love; you will never escape my worship..."

You're practically crying at this point. From the satiating pleasure overwhelming your body, but also the terror-inducing undertones that stain all of Carlos' words. 

You will never escape this pleasure, you now realize.

And he is fully convinced you are God, how you tighten and moan for him. You had leaped down from the clouds, left behind an army of angels and devoted followers, and fallen right into his arms. All for him to dedicate his life to glorifying.

Toes curling and fingers clenching the sheets, the orgasm that soon hits you is adorned with love but is unbelievably severe in the same breath. A shriek of pure delectation sprouts from your throat and envelops the air. Meanwhile, the sight of you in the peaks of exhilaration pushes Carlos over that edge, once again.

“Fuuuuck. Give it to me, honey. Give it to me. F-Fuck…!”

Carlos' stomach sucks in, suffocating him entirely and confining around his gut like a tight knot. Another deafening curse follows when that string is cut and another load of seed is spilled into your body.

With his mind now past any barrier of chivalry, he has fully granted himself permission to subsume every inch of you. The sheer sight of all your skin is so impeccably paradisiacal, his body can't refrain from reacting.

In the height of his pleasure, he ponders over how if you were a religion, he’d live in the attic of your church and bathe in holy water every day. His knees would become numb from the hours spent praying at your altar; his eyes would become dry from the hours spent reading through the bible and analyzing every detail. Any syllable out of your mouth would be met with immediate agreement and any treacherous remarks others make adhering to you would be met with the barrel of his gun. Carlos is your most devoted follower, your most loyal servant. Always and forever, he is for you to use to your liking.

Languid and muzzy compliments kissed upon your skin tell you of how you have left Carlos entirely brain-dead. For a moment, you think you may have fucked all obsession out of him when his peak simmers down (although this prospect is impossible). With the sweat, lube, cum, and god-knows-what else is on your body, all you crave at this moment is a bubble bath. Then, you'll abide by the rules set out for you and indulge in an afternoon nap.

With that, you take advantage of his nearly-unconscious state and muster enough strength within you to shove his limp body off. A bereft whimper escapes his throat in response but is quickly overpowered by the sheer euphoria flooding his body. Soon, Carlos returns to mumbling nonsense about the perfection you possess and other incoherent babbles of captivation.

Standing, albeit wobbling slightly due to your woozy brain, you tread to the ensuite bathroom where this mess had first begun. You ignore the mess of dirty clothes scattered around in favor of cleaning your lethargic body.

A swift churn to the valve and lukewarm water begins to spread throughout the sumptuous bathtub. Several spurts of your favorite soap into the running faucet, the pleasant scent soon spreads throughout the room. Five months and the simple act of enjoying a bath in solitude was almost unfamiliar to you. Since then, you had forgotten just how meditative it was to let your body melt into the relaxing, warm water without any wandering hands. Massaging your muscles and scrubbing every mess from your smooth skin, it felt amazing and empowering to have control of yourself for once.

For the hour spent soaking in sheer tranquility, you then unclog the drain and watch as the water drains. Drying your body with an expensive towel you can't fathom the price of, you cast your gaze through the large window.

Outside, the only thing accompanying this house was trees. More heaps of rain scatter the area enveloped in late-night hues, accompanying the heavy fog that sat upon the forest floors. If it was merely that easy, you'd launch your body through that glass right now and dash for your freedom. But, you know your efforts would never be brought to fruition. Instead, you apply a set of perfumed lotion to your skin and dress yourself in a fresh set of clean pajamas. Again, something you had rarely been given the advantage to do yourself.

When you leave the ensuite, however, you are thrown into a loop when you witness what now lies within the bedroom.

Candles and incense scatter the dark room, illuminating the array of rose petals adorning the floors. The bed was now completely clean with a fresh set of sheets, pillows, and comforters. A tray table is set upon the blankets. Sat on top of it, you find a mug of your favorite tea and a glass of water with cucumber and lemon slices for him (it has always been his favorite, after all). Two plates of spaghetti with one fork accompany them, as well. In addition to this, a charcuterie board enriched with all sorts of delicious snacks was rested by the delicious meal.

The most unforgettable part about this sudden scene, however, was Carlos. In the hour you had spent alone, not only had managed to cook a variety of dishes for you, but he had also managed to shower in Jill's ensuite, style his hair, patch up his stubble, and dress himself in a tailored suit.

All you can do is stand on the threshold and question how in the fuck was he able to do all of this within a single hour? You are so flabbergasted in fact, you ponder if the bathtub behind you was actually a portal to an alternate reality. Additionally, you can't refrain from laughing to yourself over how he is surely the only man on Earth to set all of this up after sex.

With pure ease, once again, Carlos trudges over to you and scoops you up into his arms. Even with wet hair, pajamas, and tired eyes, it shocks you how this man still looks at you like you're a model fresh off the runway. Or more accurately, an angel that had descended from the clouds and into this bedroom.

"You know you didn't have to do all of this for me, right?" For the umpteenth time that day, Carlos sets you upon the fresh set of bedsheets, tucking the high-quality comforter around your legs.

"There is no line that I wouldn't cross for you..." A smile quirks on his lips. The horror-stricken connotations reside beneath the dreamy sheen of his gaze.

From here on out, Carlos sits on the edge of the bed and oscillates between feeding you and himself spaghetti. And the way he crafts the dish is easily the most delectable piece you have ever tasted, which is never a surprise when it comes to his culinary skills.

During the process, it seems as though everything has returned to normal and the events that had taken place on this exact bed had never happened. It isn't ignored out of embarrassment or regret, though. Instead, it is from absolute disbelief that such an amazing thing had happened to someone like him. He can hardly contain the gratitude and heart-stopping rapture coursing through his body, hence the dramatic measures he took to express these feelings.

With an onslaught of cheesy jokes and praises that would put Romeo and Juliet's love to shame, that smile you give Carlos makes everything he has ever done absolutely worth it. There is no greater happiness he can feel than when he is witnessing your own.

When you attempt to pluck a grape from the grape cluster rested upon the board, though, Carlos is brought out of his haze and he halts your actions. He grasps the cluster for himself, tilting your head back with a gentle tap to your chin, and proceeds to feed you grapes as if you were some divine being. And in his eyes, you are all that and more. It is evident in just how blissful he feels from feeding you, the act of worship far better than any drug.

When the cluster of ripe fruit was reduced to nothing but lone twigs, the disappointment within Carlos' expression was almost palpable. The sorrow is short-lived, however, when he resorts to feeding you more heaps of spaghetti.

If you were honest, you have lost count of how many times you have eaten this exact dish for dinner. At first, you were confused as to why you were all eating spaghetti almost every night. That is until you realized Carlos was attempting to reenact the adorable scene from Lady and the Tramp. It would have been romantic if it weren't for the third party practically glaring daggers into his soul every time he strived for this outcome. Without Jill here, you swallow your pride and indulge him in what he has been craving for months.

You bite down on the edge of the spaghetti string and hold the other end with the fork, ushering him into the act of affection. And God, Carlos lights up like a kid on Christmas morning when he finally computes your intentions.

Eagerly taking the string into his mouth, he does not savor the moment in the slightest. Before you can garner even an inch of the delicious capellini, Carlos is practically slurping the strand down his throat as he hastens closer to you. There's a wild glimmer that twinkles in his eye as he continues to accelerate.

A deep, shaky exhale is released from him when your lips finally meet. He tastes of his normal tang of mint and lemon but with the added flavor of his homemade marinara recipe. Using your teeth to cut the spaghetti string in two, your attempts at establishing how the romantic scene was over were never acknowledged. Large hands cling to your face and indulge in any last sliver of you he can hoard.

"I love you, honey-bee, I love you so much. You've saved my life over and over and over again and I will do everything in my power to show you how grateful I am..." Carlos' words are sweet and ridden with unhealthy amounts of ceaseless worship. Meanwhile, you chase your breath when he finally releases your mouth from his relentless, loving torture.

Soon, every crumb from all plates has vanished within your stomach, despite your assurances you have been fully satiated.

A tinge of guilt eats away at you when you realize just how much this man has done for you. The trance he is lost in whenever he tends to you has seemingly gone unbeknownst to you, even after all these months. You offer to take care of the dishes, but the way he tenses in response makes you recoil. It had been two months since it happened, but Carlos remembers it like it was a mere second ago.

When you had tended to the mess left after breakfast, your butterfingers had dropped a glass, causing it to shatter against the tiled floors. Fortunately, you had managed to lift yourself onto the counter in a swift attempt at protecting yourself. Despite these efforts, one minor, practically microscopic, cat scratch had been left on your shin. And Carlos lost his mind.

Since then, you have been banned from partaking in any house chores. This rule had stood before this incident, but with the new underlying fear, he was far more strict with this order. After all, you could clear your throat and he'd convince himself you were having an asthma attack.

Now, however, he reminds you of how you are still on bed rest from the night prior, before leaving a prolonged kiss on your forehead and leaving with the dishes.

The door closes and you immediately escape the restricting sheets surrounding you. Venturing onto the balcony, you rest against the ledge and admire how the stars scatter among the night sky. The bright moon complements them and dazzles you. All those nights in the sanctuary spent looking at the same sky, you wonder what your friends were occupied with right now. 

Are you still considered missing or have you been presumed dead by now? Did they all know you'd be taken away or are they still trying to search for you after you mysteriously vanished? 

Carlos returns in record time and you are swift in wiping away the evidence of tears brimming in your eyes. He informs you of how you should be in bed and attempts to sound strict, but the permanent, loving tint in his expression jeopardizes his efforts. With a face like yours, how could he ever be mad? 

When you ask to stay, he hesitates. But, when you give him those puppy-dog eyes that never fail to make him weak, he caves in. With an assurance of how you could stargaze on the porch swing together, as well as an additional remark of how he is more comfortable than the bed, his cheeks grow warm and all rules he had set are thrown out the window.

Sitting in the exact seat you had suggested, Carlos pulls you into his lap. Another stupid joke of millions is made by him before he blows a raspberry into the side of your face. The burst of laughter and heart-wrenching giggles he earns makes him feel weightless. A trail of kisses are left down your right arm, an act of affection he had always initiated in regards to the injury you faced six years ago. And by giving him a compliment about his suit and a nickname of "teddy bear" (his favorite), you have now melted this man into a puddle of sugary words and dazed devotion.

With the swinging of the chair, the tender caresses to your body, and the soft breeze from the late-night air, you soon drift off in his arms. In 24 hours, Carlos has concluded that he may forgive Jill for what she did to you if this is the product of all her wrongdoings.

Once more, with every day the rain falls, you have come to learn several new things.

Oh, how Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira love Y/N L/N.

It is evident throughout every day, where fragments of their adoration are sprinkled into every moment you spend together.

Life with these two is mellow, but intense in the same breath. You're treated like royalty, never allowed to lift a single finger. However, never once in your life have you been indulged in such intense displays of devotion. You'll be worshiped like a deity, soon to be smothered beneath their suffocating embrace without any room for dispute. You are never alone; if you're not with one, you are certainly with the other. Whether this is rooted in their overprotective nature or the simple desire to be with you at all times (or possibly even both) will forever remain a mystery to you.

Jill is overwhelmingly possessive and never refrains from proving how easily she can claim you. Displaying her strength throughout the day, expressing the barriers she's overcome to save you, and bragging about the fights she's won. You would be fearful of her violent tangents if it weren't for the swirling adoration in her hazy, blue eyes.

There is no need to take that cutthroat, bad-cop exterior to heart, either. Not when the box hidden beneath the floorboards tells an entirely different story. Just don’t be surprised if your nail clippings and underwear suddenly vanish out of thin air.

Carlos has a warm heart reserved for you, but the organ is astonishingly jealous, as well. Constantly cooking myriads of dishes for you, cleaning every speck of dust to ever exist, being your teddy bear. You would be overwhelmed by his aggressive affections if it weren't for those tender hands soothing his baby of any restless sorrow.

There is no need to take that tenacious, puffy-eyed exterior to heart, either. Not when the journals hidden beneath the floorboards tell an entirely different story. Just don’t be surprised if you find pages covered with your name and proclamations of devotion, all written red with his fresh blood.

Life had been adorned in these matters for a while. Another month has tread by and all wounds, both physical and mental, have fortunately healed. As well as the poor kitchen island, which has now been revived with a sleek marble finish. You'll just choose to ignore how Carlos and Jill had locked you in the bedroom when the repairman spent several hours patching up the counter, ensuring he didn't wander off. If he found you, he'd surely want you for himself, the two are sure of it.

Instead, you swerve your attention toward how all conflicts have been reduced to minimal bickers. Though the jealous glares and backhanded comments will always remain, your days together have shifted toward much brighter circumstances.

With the presence of Spring lurking, the golden sun has escaped through the clouds and now engulfs the world in its warm hues. Your relentless suggestions of enjoying the pleasant weather had originally been brought to zero fruition. Especially with what occurred the last time you had left. Danger resides around every corner, they claimed. Outside these suffocating walls, you would be exposed to this. Even from something as little as nearly tripping over a protruding tree root, the thought made them both aghast.

However, when you look at them like that, they can feel their stern exterior crack beneath the harsh blows your adorable self delivers. And the look of surprised joy in your expression when they introduced the idea of enjoying a picnic by the private riverside erased any restriction either of them had.

The wicker basket sitting on a picnic blanket is full of numerous delicious treats, all crafted by Carlos' hands. With your fresh pair of expensive boots on (after Jill insisted on sitting you down and quadruple-knotting your shoelaces), the three of you are leaving the house at each other's sides. More so, Carlos is shoulder-to-shoulder with you and flinching at any feeble sound while Jill remains level-headed, soaking in your enthusiastic state of mind.

The wooden, decaying trail was adorned with unkempt debris, a considerable contrast to the pristine appearance of the house. With a hand around your waist, Jill guards you against the protruding nails and chunks of sharp wood threatening to bring you harm. The sight of several goosebumps littering your arm and Carlos strips his coat off and fastens it around your form. All as if you weren't wearing clothing thick enough to be considered armor. You're surprised he hadn't suffocated you with bubble wrap before you left.

Despite their suffocating and infantilizing treatment, you do not let them spoil this experience. For months, you have only ever seen this wondrous rainforest through a window. Now, being within the genuine physicality of it was nothing short of breathtaking.

Gentle rain patters against the healthy leaves; birds squawk and chitter throughout the trees. The thunderous sound of a heavy waterfall echoes throughout the expanse and has you mesmerized. And you cannot forget the fresh air invading your lungs and just how much you had longed for it.

The scent of rainwater and late-morning fog complement the state of serenity you're in, as well. You almost step directly into the adjacent river from how captivated you were by the beautiful sight. From behind you, Jill's voice pervades the peaceful atmosphere.

"Careful, baby. 'Don't want you gettin' wet. Rather it be in another wa- agh!" A rough grunt is pulled from Jill before she can complete her sentence. Abruptly, she is shoved to the forest floor.

Her well-being is entirely ignored by Carlos, who chooses to ensnare you in his protective hold instead. Letting your vision absorb what had occurred over your shoulder, you see a man dressed in a white-lab coat towering over her. When you see that familiar Umbrella symbol on his shoulder, you are ashamed to feel a sense of safety in their presence. They had provided you with the only place you were ever able to confidently call "home", after all.

When you attempt to wrangle from Carlos' suffocating hold, your efforts halt when he whips out a handgun and points the weapon at the assailant. Did he really bring that to our picnic?

A harsh kick to his crotch and the man above Jill keeled over, granting her the opportunity to spring to her feet and race to your aid. She then grabs hold of the handgun she brought, as well. Why on Earth did they both bring weapons!? 

Never one to hesitate, she flicks the safety off, juts her finger against the trigger, and a permeating bang! thunders against your eardrums. Before you can witness the aftermath induced by her bullet, Carlos' hand shields your eyes from the sight. A heavy set of numerous footsteps follow the silence left after the gunshot and strengthen the dreadful fear in your gut.

When they begin to hasten towards you alone, a flurry of gunshots echo.

Amid the chaos, an unseen force from behind yanks you out of the strong arms locked around your form. You splat harshly against the ground and the contact robs a groan of pain from your chest. Attempting to identify what was responsible for the sudden altercation, you find another stranger at your side who was dressed in the same white garb. The terror envelops you in its bitter embrace as you anticipate his next move.

Before he can even think of touching you, however, he is violently tackled to the ground by Carlos. Glancing past him, vomit threatens to escape from your stomach when you find several other men lying lifeless. Pools of blood mend with the soil and paint your shoes; the scent of iron and gunpowder make your nose twitch from the unwelcome pervasion.

"Put a fuckin' finger on them and I'll leave all of yours at your mother's doorstep!" It doesn't surprise you that Jill was responsible for this flare of savagery. Gun in one hand, pocket knife in the other, the blood of your assailants adorns her entire body as she continues to combat anyone standing in her way.

"How dare you put your fucking hands on them!? I'll spend eternity making sure you're rotting in Hell for what you’ve done!" Carlos did not differ from her state, either. Your attacker had already been presumed dead, but the man above him continues to surge his fists into the gorey expanse of his deformed face.

And much like the brawl between Jill and Carlos, you were left in a state of shock and unable to make any coherent actions.

All you do is sit at the stump of this tree and watch as the hysterical display folds out before you. The carnage satiating your senses is enough evidence that these two will conquer this battle. But as they claim more bodies, more heaps of men adorned with the same Umbrella patch follow.

Jill and Carlos quickly become overpowered by the sheer amount of violent people closing in on them. Through every punch, every slice, every gunshot, all advantages used to defend themselves are stolen from them. Several men now hold them compliant to the muddied ground as the two roar out curses and threats.

Another man soon joins the scene, verbally tutting at the impact left behind, before turning to you. And when you fully take in his features, your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach.

Doctor Gorkis, or 'Matt', as he insisted you to call him stands by your feet.

He had aided you during the precarious descent into your new life within the sanctuary and remained your friend throughout the years. And if you were honest with yourself, you have always harbored a sort of childlike crush on him. The knight in shining armor; the prince who saves you from the evil dragon. The feelings you had for him were something along those lines. If Jill and Carlos knew this, they'd surely rip his head off, but that presumption was irrelevant right now.

Matt bends down to your level, the violent shouts of "don't you fucking touch them!" from behind him nothing but a mere passing car, a drifting thought.

"Hello, Y/N..." When you hear his voice, you finally comprehend how much you have yearned for your old life, for him. It is soft and euphonious, but still possesses a friendly shimmer that could melt even the coldest of hearts, you're sure of it.

Shifting your attention away from your old friend, you look to Jill and Carlos. They both struggle and shout beneath the weight of their attackers, more desperate than you have ever seen them before.

Poor Carlos is just sobbing. All his speech is sullied and incoherent, far too overwhelmed by the weight of his emotions. Shockingly, you see Jill weeping, as well. This is the first occurrence in which you have seen such acute emotion within her, within both of them.

A single night in heaven granted them six endless years of torture. Then, they were gifted six months of sheer bliss. To know that in the blink of an eye, this stranger could unsheathe a weapon and take your life right then and there, while all they can do is watch in horror — it destroys them.

Your gaze is soon forced back onto Matt. Albeit forcefully when he tilts his head into your train of vision, intense eyes peering into yours.

"A lot has changed since you were taken from us. Our organization has changed for the better and we have taken extra precautions to ensure our patients' safety. Your safety. You will be safe now. That is... If you'll come with me...?" His words confuse you.

"Butterfly, don't you dare listen to him! He's full of shit!" One on hand, you're convinced Jill and Carlos had saved you from a corrupt company.

"Sweet Bumblebee, you are the only reason I am alive! Don't listen to him...! Please, don't listen to him..." On the other hand, the familiarity of Matt's presence lulls you into complying.

"Those two don't care for you, not like me and all of your friends back home. If you come with me, you can see them again..." You don't know who to believe.

The fear paralyzing your body, despite how meager it was compared to everything else, is all the proof you need to decide what path you should venture on.

You cannot trust anyone, so you choose to trust yourself.

You were never meant to be in the restricting paradise of Umbrella's sanctuary; you were never meant to be locked away with your two corrupt lovers. Maybe you were always meant to be alone.

Using the tree for stability, you stand on your feet. Matt follows your movements, seemingly guarding you from the two feral dogs pinned to the forest floor.

With the ball in your court, all three of them hastily anticipate your answer.

A step away and your answer is clear. 

You choose no one.

And you choose to ignore how Jill and Carlos practically screech for you as you walk away from them. But, you couldn't choose to ignore Matt when he follows you in your path and closes the short distance between you two. He pulls out an anesthesia mask with his gloved hand and presses it to your face, ensnaring you in his arms.

As you are soothed into unconsciousness, he reassures you that everything will be alright. And if you choose to ignore the desperate shouts of your name fading out, you could almost believe him.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ LOST IN THE LABYRINTH

OF MY MIND . . . ❞

bc i can't control myself, here are more visions of jill and carlos' house. here, here, here, here, here, and here.

gif credits :: jill & carlos.

[colin-becher-death-countdown]

Is Colin Becher Still Alive:

Yes.

Colin Becher Has Survived:

153 days (of cat and mouse.)

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2024: #18

18. SAN MARINO Megara - "11:11" 33rd place

Decade Ranking: 66/153 [Above Aiko, below Hooverphonic]

Soy "Otra Gente".

Yes, ~Megara & Aiko~ back-to-back as a tribute to the blossoming new relationship. (how cute that these are the two LAST EVER entrants for both of those countries ♥). Star-crossed pansexuals forever tethered side-by-side in this ranked afterlife. THIS is how you do serendipitous running orders, Christer, fucking take notes. (Another fragment of my neurodivergent soul destoyed when he decided to put Megara 10th in the r/o and make 11:11 the 12th overall song to be performed that night).

But Aiko and Megara also represent the duality of modern day NQs. While Aiko delivered a good vocal, glammed-up to a 7.5/10 and still died (lol though luck fighting those bookmakers, girl), Kenzie delivered an ABSOLUTELY ROTTEN VOCAL, downgraded to a 7.5/10 and logically died because it's San Fucking Marino. 😍

Like, idk how to break it to you, but for once, San Marino actually earned the Ironic Standom label. Let's start with the fact that they're repped by my fave act from last year's Benifest with a song about how unfairly robbed "Arcadia" was. ♥

M E

P E L A

M E P E L A

Y si tú no me quieres otra gente me quierian

This year's line-up was so up my alley even the fanfiction was fucking me-coded.

And a fanfic it fucking was because in order to rep Scam Marino, Megara had to beat the following at Una Voce:

Jalisse, Italy's 97's reps (and erstwhile BubbleFaves) who TVSM found in a dusty retirement home somewhere in Italy, recruited as a Big Name, and who reportedly stormed out of the venue as soon as they were eliminated by the jury. (😍)

David Bowie's former flame Dana Gillespie, who sang an AI-written composition about climate change called "The last polar bear" (sample lyrics:" I'm just a polar bear trying to survive :old:" // "Is there someone out there who has mercy on a polar bear?" :old:) (and they HAD to admit this in the final because Una Voce's main sponsor was the company that wrote the AI script which composed the song lmfaooo ♥)

Nusa Derenda's son, who was part of a three-himbot boyband and was absolutely HORRIBLE (the other two did ALL of the lifting ♥), only for them to be completely omited from the first recap of the night (WILL THE BULLYING OF SLOVENIA EVER END?!)

Loredana Bertè, Mia Martini's estranged blue-haired sister who crossed over from San Remo for the sole purpose of terrorizing her ex-husband Björn Borg, and performed in her usual style: dressed as a schoolgirl (she's over 70 btw), hands in her pockets, fully disassociated, sounding like she was halfway through her fourth bottle of Disaronno.

How is ANY of this a waking reality?! Megara beating Loredana last-minute was the icing on the cake because while the notion of Pazza is funny enough (it rhymes "artifice" with "toothpaste" <3), Megara at least had... a concept? an Idea? A song?

And then we got to the contest itself. The preview comes in and has THE EXACT SAME IMPACT ON ME as Bambie's did in the first semi - STOP ALL THE PRESSES, I WANT TO SEE THIS IN FULL IDGAF ABOUT ANY OF THE OTHERS OR MY PERSONAL HEALTH AND RESPONSIBLIITIES!!!! you know, the usual hinged eurofan stuff.

When we finally got to the full live omg ♥ A fantastic act completely PULVERIZED into death by Kenzie's inability to perform ♥ From actually WALKING OFF THE SCREEN

to having her own small Emily Roberts moment in the second chorus

Shittastic. it worked because, thankfully, the song WAS fodder to begin with (no losses there) and the staging -conceptually at least- was visionary. This is probably the best San Marino have ever staged.

The delectable Dias De Muertos flamengo break ♥

the haphazard trigger happy hazbin hotel fuschia fiesta freakshow aesthetics ♥

the silly overlays that actually WORKED BETTER THAN LUX'S ♥

THE DEMON RABBIT INTO DEMON CORPSES DANCERS ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

This (metaphorical) shit was masterfully staged and Kenzy still served LOOKS AND ENERGY despite failing at everything else.

If you're going to be hopeless, then be hilariously bad at giving hope, is what I say.

11:11 was pure chaos on a black-and-pink demon barber pole, which for experimental art rock serving as a middle finger to Spain's lack of taste, is a pretty good medium of expression. The way Megara were guaranteed double digit points because the Mericones (this year's honorary name for Cigarillos/Spanish Fags btw..x) were casting votes in this semi (♥) allowed them to give zero fucks. ♥

Of course, if Megara (and specifically Kenzie) had been in any way competent, then 11:11 could have qualified with that act, and that would have been ICONIC. But they weren't and we missed out on another SF2 epic turnaround, which is probably why I'm not ranking them amongst the very good entries this year. (also, if I did I'd be compelled to rank 'em 11th and LOL @ bumping Aiko up to 12th place). I'm accepting of 11:11's shortcomings, but also acknowledge that it has them. The quality standards were surprisingly high this year, and I enjoy the remaining entries sufficiently that I don't need to cling to Megara as hard as I normally would. Fun filler it is, and that's the perfect endpoint for San Marino's journey.

THE RANKING

[critter-genfic-events]

This week, we have seven stories that feature Grog Strongjaw! From sickeningly sweet fluff to some good old barbarian whump, we’ve got quite the range today - check them out beneath the cut, and of course, comment and kudos if you like them!

Paint by Numbers by baehj2915 (10052,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot, Scanlan Shorthalt & Grog Strongjaw, Scanlan Shorthalt/Pike Trickfoot

Grog has been waiting for this for so many numbers.

Reccer says: Grog's voice is SPOT-ON. All three main characters (the big and his smalls) shine, but Grog is especially great, simple and straightforward and not stupid by a long shot. If you've ever wondered about how the Trickfoot-Shorthalt-Strongjaw household handled its first baby, this is the fic for you. 100% canon in my heart.

no way of knowing by judypoovey (1778,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot, Grog Strongjaw & Zanror, Worra/Zanror

When Pike is summoned to help deliver the Thunderlord's child, Grog solves the secret of Fatherhood.

Reccer says: Cute and touching and Pike and Grog's voices are perfect!

Hard Knocks by TiamatZX (700,Teen) Warnings: Major character injury Pairings:

Grog had a good idea. It just left him with too many boo-boos for Pike to heal.

Reccer says: Some in-canon Grog whump

Sea, Sand and Sun (And Survivors) by Belphegor (4453,General) Warnings: Canonical character death Pairings: Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot, Scanlan Shorthalt & Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot, Scanlan Shorthalt & Grog Strongjaw, Scanlan Shorthalt/Pike Trickfoot

Turns out losing someone for good fucking sucks. Grog has no intention of making a habit of it. Especially not now, on a sunny day at the beach, after surviving everything else.

Reccer says: A heartfelt Grog point of view that starts off sweet and gets into a little hurt

will you know it when you see it by friendly_ficus (1070,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot & Wilhand Trickfoot

Pop Pop tells her that Grog’s had a hard life and a bad scare, that Pike’s got to do her best to be brave for both of them. He’s pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear it, but it... it makes him feel something strange, that the old fella’s looking out for him. It’s not, uh, not a bad feeling.

Reccer says: I liked it

ABCs with Grog Strongjaw by Settiai (153,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

A short poem and video of Grog's ABCs

Reccer says: It's cute and fun!

Wants and Needs by icarus_chained (1574,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

Grog might not have the usual approach to love and sex, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's missing anything. He doesn't think so, anyway.

Reccer says: I feel like acknowledgement of characters who are aromantic but not asexual are few and far between in fandom, so this character study is appreciated

This is one of our weekly communally-generated gen rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. Please note that the summary and content notes are provided by the reccer, and may be different than what the author has provided. Please assume good intentions all around. <3

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we're focusing on Cross Campaign fics! So mix and match those adventuring parties and have some fun!

Then the weeks after that, it'll be Skill/Class Swap fics, Mourning and Grief, and then Fjord focused.

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

Oh! Also! Critter Gen Week is happening! Prompts have been announced, you should check them out.

And hey, if you're looking for some more good gen content, check out some fics written in the critter genfic bingo tag, or the older rec lists! Or you can request your own card and join in on the fun!

[youcouldmakealife]

LBTE: Jared (153-154)

The Blanket War.

If you'd like to follow along, the series page is here.

153. Wage(r)s of War

If Jared knew the blanket was going to turn into a whole thing, he probably would not have stolen it.

Scratch probably: Jared definitely wouldn’t have stolen it. Even though it wasn’t really stealing, since it was originally his, and he never told his parents they could give it away to someone else. That’s not theft, that’s like — rightful ownership. Jared is the rightful owner of the blanket.

But still.

Jared’s saying this when it’s just a thing and not even a Thing yet.

Especially since the Canucks put two and two together, and are now giving Jared copious amounts of shit for losing his blanket to an Oiler not once but twice.

“As if you had nothing to do with us losing those games,” Jared says.

In hindsight, he probably should not have said that to his goaltender, but he still thinks volunteering him for the children’s hospital Halloween trip is unfair.

I applauded Jared’s survival instinct last time, but it’s terrible and Jared’s lucky his penance is ‘cheer up children’ and not ‘be murdered by goaltender’, frankly.

“I know,” Jared says, and irritably adjusts his eye patch. He’s supposed to be colouring, but he can’t see properly with it on, and he keeps colouring outside the lines just a bit, which is infuriating. He can’t take it off, though, because the one time he did Gabe said he looked like a hipster French stereotype, and when Gabe insults you it’s hard not to take it to heart.

I wrote this after having personally experienced eye patch-hood post surgery the first. Definitely fucks with your field of vision and your depth perception, among other things. The cool thing is it makes you look like a pirate, though!

Jared knew he shouldn’t have listened to Bryce about the striped shirt being pirate-y.

Striped shirts are very dependent on accessorizing. Eye patch? Pirate. Beret? Old school Parisian stereotype.

Bryce brought out the sling for the hospital, over a lazy cowboy costume made entirely out of shit in Bryce’s closet from his Flames days. He hasn’t strictly needed to wear it for awhile, but the kids all gravitate to Bryce, asking about it. The third time a child under the age of six solemnly told Bryce to get better soon Jared had to excuse himself and find Dmitry until he was comfortably annoyed again.

Jared carefully talking around things so he doesn’t use the word ‘adorable’. And this is a smart AF move by Bryce, who understands that kids will want to talk to someone they perceive as similar to them in that way. He truly does love kids, and he gets them too. (Don’t say it, Jared.)

“Look, J,” Bryce says delightedly. “The kids all signed my sling.”

His sling is an absolute mess of Sharpie. Though frankly the signatures of children aren’t significantly worse than the signatures of hockey players, so it’s no worse than some casts that got signed today.

Jared grunts.

Adorable.

“Are you still mad about the stripes?” Bryce says.

Jared grunts again.

“I like your moustache,” Bryce says.

Two kids, both named Logan, were very insistent that pirates had to have moustaches, and he couldn’t think of a counterpoint, so now he has a moustache.

Jared, you fool, don't listen to the Logans, that's not pirates. A skinny pencil moustache stereotypically belongs to…

Now he looks like a dude who had a kid scribble all over his face instead of a French hipster, at least. He takes the eye patch off.

“Bonjour, Mathématiques,” Gabe says as he comes up behind them. “Très belle moustache.”

THE FRENCH!!!

Also shoutout to Gabe for translating Jared’s nickname for the occasion.

And however much it sucks for him, he knows it’s way worse for Bryce. He’ll never say it aloud, but he was kind of grateful when Gavin got injured and flew home halfway through the trip, because he came over to their place during games and kept Bryce company.

Jared appreciates Gavin’s sacrifice. Gavin not so much.

That had been Elaine’s job, but Jared’s pretty sure she handed over the duty to Gavin without an ounce of regret. Even she has limits. At least, Jared assumes she does? He’s never seen her reach them, but they have to exist.

Bryce’s DWI. That was her limit. She had never been angrier at Bryce than that day, and never will be again.

“Wait, is that Oilers game tape?” Bryce asks.

“If we lose this game Julius is going to keep holding my blanket hostage,” Jared says. “So we can’t lose.”

Bryce is a little concerned about his husband’s sanity right now.

“Babe,” Bryce says. “It’s not your blanket anymore, you know that, right? He’s not holding it hostage, he just has like, custody of it. It’s a bet blanket now.”

“It’s my bet blanket,” Jared says. “That I’m going to win. And refuse to give back, even if we lose.”

Bryce gives him an almost comically disappointed look. “That’s not how bets work, J.”

You can’t break the terms of the bet. That’s low. Bryce is judging you.

“It’s a bet blanket now,” Bryce says gently.

“I know it is,” Jared mutters. He would give it back if the Canucks lost. Probably. The important thing is to never lose to the Oilers again so that it isn’t relevant.

“Is this a weird thing you have to do by yourself?” Bryce asks. “Or can I watch the Oilers in the dark too?”

Bryce is truly such a great guy. How did Jared get so lucky.

“You should see who’s at the door,” Bryce says, in the worst casual voice ever.

“If you got me a singing valentine or some shit—“ Jared says. It’s nowhere near Valentine’s, but that’s hardly something that would stop Bryce.

Fair.

“Let me in!” comes from the hall, and Jared’s blood goes cold.

“Why is there a demon at our door?” Jared hisses.

Bryce has the audacity to roll his eyes and get up himself.

Do demons have to be invited in or is that just vampires?

“Yeah, a ninety minute flight is like, a crazy long trip,” Erin says, shoving a bag off one of the stools around the island in their kitchen before sitting down. Jared thinks that might be the first time someone’s sat there since the day they moved in. The couch is for eating when they’re not hosting, and they don’t really host — well, ever. Unless Gavin counts, but Jared has doubts. And Elaine’s Elaine.

“Oh sick, I was looking for that everywhere,” Bryce says.

They do often drink coffee at the island, but that’s a leaning on the counter sort of situation. The stools aren't actually all that comfortable, and rather than, oh, get other ones, they just sort of...avoid them.

Jared squints at her. “You’re just in Vancouver because Julius is.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Erin says. “And I should be ashamed of myself, considering the incredible welcome I’m receiving from you.”

Erin is experiencing such hospitality.

Bryce hipchecks his way past Jared to give Erin another hug. “Jared’s just jet lagged and grumpy,” he says. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

But unironically, in the case of Bryce. This is why he’s her favourite brother.

Jared will not quit glaring, but he does take a seat, after displacing a sweater that has probably been there since last spring.

“Hey, I was looking for that too,” Bryce says delightedly.

Bryce gets to see Erin AND recovers objects he thought were lost forever? Today’s so great.

“Yes please,” Erin says. “You’re going to give me a complex if you keep looking at me like that, Jared.”

“Good,” Jared says, but hauls her in for a one-armed hug, releasing her before Bryce turns away from the fridge. The last thing Jared wants to do is give him the impression that inviting Erin to visit is acceptable behaviour.

Yeah, can’t show weakness by…letting your husband see you hug your sister?

“Oh man,” Erin says, somehow reading Jared’s mind, which he hates that she can still do. “Do you think I can meet Stephen while I’m here?”

“No,” Jared says flatly. He will do everything in his power to prevent that from happening. He fears he’ll learn firsthand how it feels to be a middle child if he does.

That’s exactly what Erin’s hoping for.

“I can ask Gabe if they’re free after the game tomorrow,” Bryce says, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Jared digs his fingers into Bryce’s knee under the table.

“I’m asking,” Bryce says, not even bothering to look injured.

It’s cute that you think you can stop him.

She’s presumably staying with Julius tonight, but the Oilers have to be flying out right after the game tomorrow, since they’ve got a matinee against the Golden Seals on Sunday. He’s unsure Bryce is willing to give up his sulking room before he returns to game shape. Or possibly ever. He likes a good sulk. Jared doesn’t even think he’s sulking in there all the time, has pivoted to watching shitty TV without Jared’s judgment and facetiming Maia. At least Jared hopes that’s what the ‘Bryce talking to a baby’ voice is about.

That is precisely what Bryce is using the sulking room for now. Bad TV and video chats. Also naps sometimes.

“Elaine insisted I stay with her,” Erin says. “We’re having a girl’s day on Sunday, then she’s taking me to the airport.”

Of course Elaine did. Of course they are.

Elaine always wanted a daughter too, she is as thrilled to spoil Erin as Bryce is.

Bryce looks up from his phone. “Can I come for girl’s day?”

“Duh,” Erin says.

“Sick,” Bryce says.

“I don’t want to come for girl’s day,” Jared says. “For the record.”

“We know,” Bryce says, over Erin’s snort.

Nobody even invited you.

154. The Spoils

“Halla,” Jared says. “We meet again.”

I do have some series where in media res isn’t out of place, but Jared isn’t one of them, so this is a bit of a shake up. I just really wanted a tight focus mano-a-mano standoff that is entirely undermined by the fact it’s over a fucking blanket.

“You better have brought the blanket,” Jared says.

“I did,” Julius says. “It made for very comfortable naps on the plane. It is a good blanket.”

“Your next plane nap is going to suck,” Jared says.

“Maybe,” Julius says. “Or maybe it will be a victory nap.”

“That’s all you’ve got?” Jared says. “Victory nap?”

“Want to talk trash in Finnish instead?” Julius asks.

First point goes to Halla.

“Are you guys almost done with that trash talking?” Rogers asks. “You’re kind of blocking the locker room.”

“Shit, sorry,” Jared says, and he and Julius scoot out of the way to let Rogers through.

Also it starting with a tight focus on them facing off means I can introduce details later, like the fact they’re standing right in front of the visitors room, blocking everybody.

“Nice to see you, Jared,” Rogers says.

“Yeah, you too, Darryl,” Jared says, accepting the shoulder clap from Rogers, the loose hug from Morris as he follows Rogers into the locker room.

Love you Roge, love you Benny.

“I’m gonna—“ Jared says, pausing while yet another Oiler nudges past them into the room.

How dare everyone undermine the dignity of this blanket fight by using the visitors room for its intended purpose.

“I have practice. Enjoy losing tonight.”

“No one enjoys losing,” Julius says.

“Obviously,” Jared says. “It’s a saying. It’s like—“

Julius blinks at him.

“It’s just a thing you say,” Jared says. “Precisely because nobody enjoys losing.”

Julius continues to blink at him.

“Are you fucking with me?” Jared asks.

I love when Julius uses his natural poker face for evil.

“I told Coach your sister is in town,” Gabe says when Jared gets onto the ice, surprised he didn’t get yelled at for showing up to practice ten minutes late. Coach is fine if you run late, but only if you let him know in advance, and Jared’s side-trip was due to a slightly deranged whim when he saw Oilers leaving the ice after their own practice.

Slightly?

Also look at Gabe, making excuses for Jared (not lying though! He said only facts. Gabe draws the line at lying in most situations.)

“Had a meeting with some Oilers,” Jared says.

“You know, anyone else I’d assume that was a euphemism for catching up with old friends,” Gabe says. “But not you.”

“Thank you,” Jared says.

“It wasn’t a compliment,” Gabe says after a moment.

Jared is aware. Still thankful, though.

Better to be known as ridiculous than as friendly, says Jared. Am I right?

(Julius is with him.)

“Julius,” Jared calls.

Julius pretends not to hear him.

I love that Jared has stooped to ‘pay attention to me!’.

No Erin. Jared guesses she doesn’t need to swarm the glass to see him, but he was curious what jersey she’d be wearing. Presumably Oilers, but Jared wouldn’t put it past her to wear a Matheson Oilers jersey to piss both him and Julius off.

I also love that Jared knows his sister just as well as she knows him. That is exactly what she’s wearing. Nobody knows who she's cheering for.

“I’m busy,” Julius says. “We already talked trash. Now I am warming up.”

Jared sputters. “I’m not done.”

Julius starts skating away. Backwards, to be extra annoying.

“I’m not done, Julius!” Jared says.

Julius waves goodbye, then turns around and skates over to the Julius Halla Fan Club by the net, grabbing a puck and flipping it to a kid holding a sign.

Another point to Halla.

Jared eyes the red line.

“Don’t do it, Math,” Gabe says, suddenly hovering at his shoulder, like he sensed trouble.

“Ugh,” Jared says, and goes to practice shooting until he isn’t so tempted to hip check Julius right into the Oilers bench.

Point to Markson.

“You’re welcome for the stupid blanket,” Ridley says when when Jared reaches him in the goalie appreciation line.

AKA the ‘hug your goalie line’.

Jared receives a text from Julius letting him know that Erin will be facilitating the blanket hand off, since the Oilers are headed straight to the airport. He’d prefer if it came directly from Julius, but post-game travel nights are what they are — the absolute worst, especially after losses — and that’s before you include the wrinkle of his girlfriend being in town. Jared isn’t petty enough to demand Julius carve out some of his very limited remaining time in Vancouver for the hand off. He probably would be, honestly, except he still remembers how hard it was for him and Bryce to work around competing hockey schedules.

Point for Matheson, but I refuse to indicate which.

“Sting a little to hand it over?” Jared asks smugly, taking the blanket from her. He squints at her outfit: no Canucks jersey, but no Oilers jersey either. A sweater Jared vaguely recognises as one Bryce got her for Christmas a few years back. Bryce clearly recognises it too — he looks pleased.

Erin’s no longer repping either side. Only Bryce’s.

“Dad owes me a dinner of my choice,” Erin says.

“Dad owes — of course he does,” Jared says.

“Some people don’t put their family first,” Erin says. “But I do, Jared. I do.”

“How would Julius feel if he knew you were betting against him?” Jared asks.

“He’s eaten dad’s food before,” Erin says with a shrug. “And I promised a cut of the spoils, obviously. I’m cashing in on a Battle of Alberta night. Julius wants salmon.”

Julius figures if he loses the game, he may as well get a good homecooked meal out of it.

“He knows, then,” Jared says.

Of course she didn’t accidentally give Jared leverage. She would never make such a rookie mistake.

Never underestimate the master.

“Is that Stephen?” Erin says, sitting straighter. “That’s Gabe, so that’s definitely Stephen.”

She has been waiting for this moment since the first time Jared referred to him as ‘the worst person I have ever met’ in a complimentary tone.

She stands up, smoothing her sweater out like she doesn’t want to appear wrinkled in Stephen’s presence. Which is the right call, honestly. Stephen is a very judgmental person.

She hopes to collaborate with Stephen in being mean to Jared, and first impressions are very important.

“Littlest Matheson,” Stephen says, as he arrives at the table. “We finally meet.”

“Jared’s tormentor,” Erin says. “I’ve heard so many terrible things about you.”

Stephen holds his arms out, and Erin walks right into them.

“Neither of you are huggers!” Jared says. “Like, at all!”

They’ll make an exception for co-conspirators.

He tries to make longsuffering eye contact with Gabe, but Gabe just grins back at him.

Stephen has also been waiting for this moment. Gabe is enjoying his enthusiasm.

“It’s like having another sister,” Stephen says over Erin’s head. “But not terrible because she’s not mine.”

He understands Gabe’s affection for his sisters a little better. Not WELL, but better.

Jared is going to meet Stephen’s sisters, and he is going to befriend them for the sole purpose of gaining blackmail material about Stephen, of which he’s sure there is plenty, and then Stephen will regret this day.

Jared keeping things in perspective while he silently plots his revenge.

But right now Jared appears to be the only one regretting this day. Everybody else appears to be having a great time.

I am included in everybody else.

“Stop hugging each other!” Jared says, then, “No, don’t — this is not a group hug moment, Erin! Stephen! Get off of me!”

The collaboration begins.

“Delete that footage,” Jared says, then, “Seriously, Bryce?”

“I’m just sending it to my mom,” Bryce protests.

So, reminder that this video makes it to social media, and that the ‘seriously, Bryce?’ is used as supporting evidence that Bryce and Jared are married, because Jared is using a 'you are exasperating me' voice that is not exactly bros.

Elaine appreciates the video very much.

“Everybody but Bryce, delete it,” Jared says, though he doesn’t have much hope he’ll be obeyed, and even less hope it won’t end up online somewhere. He’s sure that’s exactly the sort of thing the Canucks social media team would love to get their hands on. He’s sure that the more undignified he looks, the more they’d want it. And he suspects he looked extremely undignified.

Every single one of Jared’s assumptions is correct. Especially the last one.

Erin posts a few pictures that end up on the internet when she gets home — or, Jared guesses, the wider internet, not just Erin’s followers on Instagram.

Considering Erin is dating the Oilers star forward, sister of his former liney, and 'practically sister' of the Canucks star forward, naturally she has plenty of followers from the hockey world. And naturally people enjoy pictures of Jared looking like he’s suffering greatly while getting hugged by his sister and someone many misidentify as Julius.

“I don’t know who she was cheering for, but she bet on the Canucks,” Jared says, then internally winces, because with the way the internet twists everything, that’ll turn into some ‘Erin Matheson is a disloyal girlfriend’ storyline. Jared hates twitter. And crap, add a possible ‘player’s girlfriend is betting on hockey games!’, now that Jared’s thinking about it.

“Just a bet she had with my dad,” he adds hastily. If dad gets some ‘Don Matheson is a disloyal dad’ he deserves it.

Good on Jared catching that in time, because yeah, ‘disloyal girlfriend’ definitely would have been the takeaway. And disloyal dad is indeed deserved. Jared doesn’t remember his dad cheering for the Oilers when he was one.

Jared’s stupid interview gets a ton of likes, and he doesn’t even know why.

The blanket bet is a great storyline. They will both regret that.

Someone always tells him when something important happens, like the Erin and Bryce thing, and the Erin and Julius thing, and — Erin seems to be the common denominator in a lot of these.

Jared’s ignorance of his own beauty extending to all Mathesons.

Erin continues to wreak havoc by posting the video of Jared being attacked by her and Stephen the next day. Jared doesn’t know if she got it from Bryce, or Elaine, or one of the other Canucks is a traitor, but of course that gets a ton of likes too, because people on the internet also enjoy when Jared’s dignity is wounded, apparently.

It truly is enjoyable to watch Jared’s dignity suffer, can't blame 'em at all.

People also seem to think Stephen is Julius, even though he looks absolutely nothing like him, beyond also being blond and around the same height. Different build, different haircut, different everything. Also he literally says Stephen’s name in the video. Jared is so tired.

The internet has unfortunately made it quite evident just how many people go around life misinterpreting everything they see.

The sulking room is already occupied when Jared goes to use it. Bryce looks up from his phone when, expression suspiciously happy for the locale.

As I said earlier, it is now also used for watching bad TV, getting his fill of Maia (and Ashley), and naps.

“Say hi to Maia?” Bryce says, which explains everything, and Jared says some things to Maia that she surely doesn’t understand, like how big she’s gotten — it is insane how fast babies grow — and how she’s shaping up to be a Chaz mini-me, because it’s uncanny. He feels absurd the whole time, even though neither Bryce nor Ash laugh at him, though they’re both doing the thin lipped thing like they want to, but they recognise it will hurt his remaining pride.

Jared is using a baby voice. Both Bryce and Ashley know better than to alert him of that fact.

“You’re not sulking,” Jared says.

“No,” Bryce says. “Maia.”

It is extremely hard to sulk when paying attention to Maia, actually. Jared temporarily forgot why he came in the first place.

Babies are great like that.

“But this is the sulking room,” Jared says.

“Did you need to sulk?” Bryce asks.

“Yes, actually,” Jared says.

Mom says it’s my turn with the sulking room.

“I swear I didn’t give it to her,” Bryce says.

He doesn’t need to tell Jared that. Not because Jared trusts him implicitly or anything — Erin is very good at manipulating Bryce into doing what she wants — but because he’s realised that Bryce was sitting at a completely different angle than the video was taken from. It was either Stevie or Dmitry. Jared suspects the latter for obvious reasons.

Why do you doubt Dmitry like this? What has he ever done to deserve this?

(Yes it was Dmitry.)

“I know what’ll make you feel better,” Bryce says, then heads out of the room, returning after a minute carrying the blanket under his arm.

And he is correct.

“You’re ridiculous,” Jared says, then, “Come nap with me,” and the least sulky nap ever to happen in the sulking room is officially underway.

Julius was right: it is an excellent blanket for victory naps.

The spoils of victory.

[jahayla-parker]

📱 - gasp! could we get one for the crows? a summer vacation themed one?? either with or without the reader is fine, which ever is easiest <3

Of course!

Summer of Crows : SoC x Platonic!Crow!Reader SMAU

Descr: Summer vacation themed social media AU (aka therefore also a modern SoC AU) with platonic reader crow

Warnings: None!

liked by inej_g, yourusername, wylan_, and others

jes_sharpshooter: reunited at last! ❤️

view all 354 comments

kazbrekker: is this hugging why we’re behind schedule?

yourusername: loooove you both 🥰

nina_waffles_z: Ignore Kaz, he’s just jealous 😌

kazbrekker: watch it Zenik

wylan_: two of my favorite people 💙

liked by jes_sharpshooter, inej_g, wylan_, and others

yourusername: the one where the crows go to the beach ☀️

view all 289 comments

kazbrekker: still in disbelief over this 🙄

h_matthias: still in annoyance you refused to participate in the group photo🙄

nina_waffles_z: you were right, tying our hair back makes it better ☺️ no one else knows who is who 😏

wylan_: family time 🥰

liked by jes_sharpshooter, yourusername, kazbrekker, and others

nina_waffles_z: summer lovin’ 💕

view all 315 comments

yourusername: ahhhh my fav couple😘

h_matthias: love you my little red bird ❤️

inej_g: so glad you two found each other!

wylan_: this is precious 🤗

liked by jes_sharpshooter, inej_g, wylan_, and others

yourusername: Status: currently on the adventure of a lifetime 😊

📸: @/ inej _g

view all 639 comments

kazbrekker: lifetime? Noted

h_matthias: y/n I think you just made him increase the danger of the next heist 😒

yourusername: not my fault he’s so sensitive

kazbrekker: I’m not sensitive y/l/n

inej_g: Kaz will not be increasing the risks

kazbrekker: I’m in charge of that decision Wraith

inej_g: you will not be increasing the risks Dirtyhands.

kazbrekker: only because I already had it all planned

nina_waffles_z: sure, that’s why

wylan_: so pretty y/n 🥰

liked by wylan_, yourusername, h_matthias, and others

jes_sharpshooter: cheers to a stylish summer vacay. This fit looks good huh? 😌

view all 628 comments

inej _g: you look fine

jes_sharpshooter: I look better than fine 😌

h_matthias: at least you’re seated now

jes_sharpshooter: I wasn’t going to fall off, you and Wylan were just dramatic 💁🏿‍♂️

nina_waffles_z: you nearly fell, y/n had to pull you back in

jes_sharpshooter: she just wanted to hold me 😘

yourusername: please 🙄 besides, I’d never cross Wylan 😉

wylan_: 😍

liked by inej_g, wylan_, h_matthias, and others

yourusername: beach babes ❤️

view all 316 comments

inej_g: my sisters are so pretty 🥰

h_matthias: Nina 😍

nina_waffles_z: @/inej_g next time one of the guys takes the photo so you can join

yourusername: agreed 🥰

jes_sharpshooter: looking good ladies 🤩

liked by wylan_, yourusername, h_matthias, and others

kazbrekker: out of the office.

view all 358 comments

yourusername: this is so characteristically you Kaz, the grimace, the caption, etc.

h_matthias: in disbelief you actually posted

nina_waffles_z: ugh that hair, couldn’t even get a haircut for vacation 🙄

wylan_: awww

jes_sharpshooter: 🤩

liked by kazbrekker, yourusername, nina_waffles_z, and others

inej_g: soaking up the sun 🌞

view all 174 comments

kazbrekker: this is a very nice photo

nina_waffles_z: sure, compliment the photo not her directly 🙄 typical Brekker

wylan_: beautiful Inej 🤗

yourusername: the best part is that @/kazbrekker took this 😏

liked by jes_sharpshooter, yourusername, nina_waffles_z, and others

wylan_: tbt, hitting the beach before Kaz let us purchase appropriate clothing

view all 418 comments

kazbrekker: you all survived 🙄

h_matthias: 🥰

nina_waffles_z: that was scorching hot 😭 thanks for keeping me company on the shore though Wy 😘

yourusername: that day was brutal, but at least you two still looked cute ❤️

liked by inej_g, yourusername, wylan_, and others

kazbrekker: Business will resume in 24hrs

view all 153 comments

inej_g: we all know you actually enjoyed yourself a little Kaz 😌

h_matthias: all business as always smh

nina_waffles_z: don’t remind me 😭

jes_sharpshooter: ugh I hate that you look good here 😒

wylan_: ….

jes_sharpshooter: not as good as you handsome 😍

kazbrekker: stop flirting on my post.

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Tags: @missdreamofendless @ell0ra-br3kk3r @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @alex-kazbrekkersimp @nikfigueiredo

[paigenoelchas-blog]

Part 3: Seven Minutes

Part 2: One Chance Part 4: Three Weeks

I have two options, both of which are risky.

The first option is to play into his desire, then kick him where it counts and run out of the bedroom and out of the apartment. I don't think I can outrun him and it is still painfully early in the morning. The neighbors won't be awake to offer help.

The other option requires me to grab my cell phone off of the dresser and then run into the bathroom, calling the cops and praying that they can get here before George breaks through the door. I think, I hope, his desire for vengeance and his violent tendencies will cause him to make a mistake.

Unfortunately, the choices that you have to make quickly don't always turn out the way you have planned. They don't always work out at all. In fact, the result of last-minute decisions can be disastrous. I know the chance of my survival is slim, but I will fight until my last breath if it means that my baby will live.

I decide to reach for the cell phone and run to the bathroom. I don't know why I don't think of the kitchen, of finding a knife and fighting back but at the moment I do not.

So I move quickly, grab the phone, and run into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I frantically dial 9-1-1. "Help! He is going to kill me!" I scream into the phone, tears running down my face, I am hysterical with fear. The operator is talking calmly and trying to get information, but I can't understand what she is saying.

He is breaking through the door. I can see that he is making rapid progress. The door is already coming loose from its hinges. I leave the phone connected to the operator so they could trace my location and get to me. I hear her say someone will be there in seven minutes.

Seven minutes is an eternity.

In Seven miutes I may not be alive.

In seven minutes, my baby...

I can not think like that I have 420 seconds to keep myself alive.

I throw the phone on the floor hoping that I can keep him away from me long enough for the police to do their job. I begin counting the seconds in my head.

1 second... 2 seconds... 3 seconds...

He is pounding through the door, screaming incoherent thoughts and obscenities. His voice is filled with rage and vitriol. He will break through soon and then there is nothing to stop him from getting to me.

I scan the room, there is a high window, but I would never be able to fit through it. Still trying to find anything with which to defend myself, I realize that the bathroom holds loofahs and soaps, nothing dangerous. Then I see the mirror. If I can break it, maybe I can get a big enough piece to cut him or at least cause him to pause.

61 seconds...62 seconds... 63 seconds...

Six more minutes until hope walks through the door.

"You don't have to do this, " I yell at him, "The police are on their way. You can leave now. You won't be caught. You can live to have your revenge another day."I am pleading, though I know he won't buy into it.

"Do you think the police scare me?" He screams back. "Do you think anything scares me? I am going to kill you now because you deserve it. You are a whore that needs to be taught a lesson. It is a shame that we can't play a little first. I sure would have loved to show you a good time before I dispatch of you."

I tie a towel around my hand and manage to break the glass, finding a rather large piece that I quickly hide behind my back. It may buy me a little time.

The anger is still raging in his voice as he continues to break through the door, I hear the boards crack and see his sick, twisted smile peek through them. I will not cry. I will not show fear. "There you are," he triumphs as the sadistic smile returns to his face. "Do you think we have enough time for a little pleasure before I watch you bleed?" He asks me If will agree to that.

153 seconds....154 seconds...155 seconds...

"We might," I snark, "You know what losers the police are."

He returns the snark. He knows that I am trying to stall. "Who would want to fuck an ugly bitch like you anyway?" He adds.

Reaching through the broken boards, he finds the knob on the door and turns the handle. He has full access to me right now. He slows down his steps and sniffs the air. "Nothing smells as good as the fear of an enemy. I am going to take a little time to savor this moment. Today, I get two enemies at once. Wonderful." His words are devilish, filled with delight at my pain, at Jake's pain. He sniffs the air and leans toward me, watching every emotion.

I block him out thinking only of Jake and my baby,. The thoughts of Jake's arms around me and the sweet moments that we have shared, give me strength in these final moments. the reminder of all of the plans that we have for that baby and our life helps me hold on to that life with everything inside of me.

A tear runs down my cheek, damn it..

He smiles and leans back.

200 seconds... 201 seconds... 202 seconds...

Waiting to touch me, he continues to toy with me like a lion to his prey. I have placed myself in the back corner of the bathroom as far away from him as I can get., but he is here now and I have nowhere to go. I am trapped, utterly and completely.

With the mirror shard behind my back, I try one last tactic. Shouldn't you have some evidence to prove to Jake that you truly killed me, that you are the one who destroyed him?" I ask him.

"What kind of evidence do you suggest?" He answers back. I don't believe that he is buying my distraction, but he is willing to play along and that buys me some time.

220 seconds... 221 seconds... 222 seconds...

"Maybe a picture of your mouth on me or a knife on my throat, or my dress which I can take off right now? You are smart enough to think of those details. If you are going to destroy him, you should do it completely, don't you think?" I ask.

"You are devious." He is impressed, "Why do you want him to suffer?"

"He left me here alone, knowing that I was in danger. If I am going to die, he should know what he did and feel the weight of all of it." The words fly out of my mouth, but they are all lies. I love him. I know if he left it was because he was thinking of us.

255 seconds...257 seconds... 258 seconds...

"OOOh, maybe I should keep you around, make him suffer a little longer." He pauses for a split second, still toying with me. Then seeing the hope in my eyes, he finishes his thought, "But you are a tricky bitch and I don't things would work out with the two of us despite your beauty,."

George moves quickly toward me now, placing his thick hands around my throat. His breathing is ragged. from the joy that he feels in my pain. I am losing all of my air, gasping, and struggling for any amount of oxygen. Surprisingly, I feel one hand release my neck. With the free hand, he rips open my dress exposing my breasts, and drops his pants, fondling himself. Drool drips from his mouth. the other hand remains on my neck, constricting the air. I am still gasping and fading in and out...

320 seconds... 321 seconds... 322 seconds...

I remember the weapon behind my back and manage to wrangle the piece free and frantically lunge the shard toward George. I aim for his neck, but I hit his side, creating a huge gash that is bleeding profusely but is not big enough to stop him. In fact, it seems to increase his pleasure. He begins to moan louder and breathe heavier.

He is almost at the point of his release. He sits up straight and removes his hand from my neck so he can fondle me in the last few seconds of his enjoyment.

380 seconds...381 seconds... 382 seconds...

Once he is done, he wipes his filthy hand on my face, shoving those grubby fingers into my mouth forcing me to drink his fluid.

I spit it in his face.

Satisfied, he reaches for the mirror shard and takes it from my hands.

"So, this is how you want to die? I think I will oblige." His smile is bigger than I have seen and his delight is evident in his eyes.

400 seconds...401 seconds...403 seconds...

He raises the shard above his head with dramatic flare and sadistically plunges it into ...

[sacredpyre]

V:Loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night

Star Wars verse. There will be slight variations depending on what point in the timeline the thread takes place.

Name: Alena Sunseeker.

V1: Can be set anytime between 153 BBY-19 BBY

Affiliations: Jedi Order, The Republic

Like many before Alena was taken at a young age to train alongside other Force-sensitive children to one day become become Jedi. Even-tempered and quick learner the young girl swiftly rose in her training.

V2:19BBY

Affiliations: Alliance to Restore Freedom to the Galaxy, the Rebel Alliance,

Born in the Outer rim, Alena was forced to learn how to survive on her own at a young age. Managed to get by with a number of odd jobs before eventually joining the Alliance as an adult

Clearly not finished writing but i felt I was taking long and wanted to at least post the bare details. I'll repost when I've added the rest.

[fumikomiyasaki]

𝗕𝗜𝗢𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗣𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗟 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

Name: Erena Ryūjin

Based on: Monkey D. Luffy

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿: Non-Binary (She/they)

𝗔𝗴𝗲: 18

𝗕𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆: 26th of March

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘀𝗶𝗴𝗻: Aries

𝗛𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁: 153 cm

𝗘𝘆𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗿: bright blue

𝗛𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗿: Black with Orange gradient

.

𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗦

𝗗𝗼𝗿𝗺: Nakaumi

School: @deaths-academy-of-combat​

𝗦𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿: second year

𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀: 2-A

𝗢𝗰𝗰𝘂𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: Dorm Leader

𝗖𝗹𝘂𝗯: Gymnastics

𝗕𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝗷𝗲𝗰𝘁: Mixed Martial Arts

Homeland: Unknown (kinda drifted across many sea cities)

Sexuality: Asexual Demiromantic

Weapons: Her stretchy arms most of the times but if she is really force to have a weapon... she results to a simple sword.

.

.

𝗙𝗨𝗡 𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗦:

𝗗𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱: ambidexterous

𝗙𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗱: Meat on the bone, Kebab, just in general anything meat

𝗟𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗱: Its hard to find something she doesn't eat

Likes: the seas, adventures, meeting new people, being known, her straw hat,

𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘀: swimming ( she can't), unnecessary violence, seagulls,

𝗛𝗼𝗯𝗯𝘆:  Keeping a photobook, tending to ships, photography in general,

𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀: stretching herself inhumanly so, convincing people of her ideas, getting into trouble, kleptomancy

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬:

Erena as a young girl didn't really have a home... she actually did have parents but got kidnapped by pirates a long time ago... yet despite that, watching them from where she was trapped she was fascinated by what they all did... they wanted to sell her to someone who can have her a as a child worker for a scheme but she broke up in a more unconventional way... however she was still lost on what to do and so tried just to survive with what she had... becoming a poor street thief who tried to get by where she could... however one day this landed her into trouble with a circus, where she got caught sneaking in without paying to see the show and the head clown wanted her to work off her debt... this is where she met Slice... working with him for a while and finding out about her unique magic, which made her a great performer for the circus for a short while with how much she can stretch her arms... however she never wanted to stay a performer... and Slice knew that too... both didn't really have a choice in the end. The town they stayed in got attacked but in the commotion they met Shanaya... who saved them both out of this situation and after Slice lost his mentor in the commotion... both decided to be mentored by her and go along with her for a while... untill eventually they started their dorm.

Erena is despite the hardships very optimistic and always smiling... its hard to get her down, but if she is angry you know something went wrong... Some people would call her reckless when she calls herself moreso fearless... even her confidence is hard to get down, she has no hesitation to walk up to a stranger and strike up a conversation. Its why she became such a good leader of the dorm cause she strikes in first and tries to face any situation headon...

Unique Magic:

A Devils Taste

Similar to her inspiration she can just stretch all of her limbs very long.

[feelingcauliflower]

153 days of survival

25/153

How am I already done with day 25. Calculated that I did just about nothing for 10-ish days among these 25 days. I am still proud of myself for surviving, I feel this record is more so for that rather than the academic progress. I truly struggled this last week, could not figure out any precise trigger, working on it though. I will not probably never go into full girlboss mode. I would just like to be efficient enough. I have only 35 days till my first set of exams start. Wishing, hoping, manifesting to be able to get some work done. Link to previous updates: https://www.tumblr.com/feelingcauliflower/727024306944720896/153-days-of-survival

[chirpsythismorning]

So what I'm hearing is that Netflix planned on holding on for around 6 months, but due to the support from the public and now actors and directors, they might have to give in sooner than they expected?

I mean, basically.

The longest strike was 153 days, which is approximately five months.

You could argue Netflix is willing to hold out for as long as the writers are, which the record shows, is not that long, with the most being five months because people can't survive not being paid for that long.... That's why there is a number that we are able to guess at least roughly speaking.

It's not like a strike can go on for 1-2 years or something. If it did, hypothetically speaking, I would guess entertainment as we know it would never return again. And so I'm just gonna guess (hope) that it won't reach that level of severity...

There’s no way for certain to know what Netflix was thinking going into this. We can speculate based on what they've said leading up to it and based on how they talk about it and dance around the situation now, but for now it’s just a guessing game.

And so don't mind me guessing away.

I'm gonna guess that Netflix was probably optimistic that a lot of people wouldn't be willing to join the strike, bc of how recent COVID delays were and how negatively that impacted a lot of people's lives and income. There's a good chance their assumption was that the majority wouldn't be willing to put themselves through something like that all over again, and so soon.

But I think that they grossly underestimated that our society has changed A LOT since 2007, which is maybe in part what they were basing a lot of their assumptions on. It really doesn't take much these days to bring a bunch of people together and make them inspire change. We've seen entire companies change things because of backlash in a matter of hours. Social media has made this the norm, with it being very difficult in recent years to sweep stuff like this under the rug, expecting to come out of it comfortably. A lot of people are saying that this strike has a lot more support from the public in general than the previous strike did. And not only do you have writers striking, but big names in entertainment striking alongside them (and counting).

What I am intrigued by, is if they thought Stranger Things would continue production, despite the strike? Arguably we know most of s5 was already written, or at least somewhere around the first 5-6 episodes.

If the Duffers were sellouts, ready to cash in, they could have, as the creators themselves, started filming and fixed scripts on their own during the production and said fuck the writers, essentially siding with Netflix. And then by the time those later episodes needed to be filmed, the Duffers could have either written them all by themselves in time or maybe the strike would be over by that point and they would be back in the mix? TBH a lot of fans had this expectation, so I do wonder if Netflix had it too...

What was even on everyones minds leading up to this strike? What was Netflix thinking? What were the Duffer Brother's thinking? What were the ST writers thinking? What were all the key players involved with the show thinking? And were they fully disclosing how they planned to execute their thoughts and decisions, with with one another?

Something I think about, is how leading up to the strike, there was this almost calculated approach to how the writers were doing things...

They knew the strike was coming, and yet they were making an effort to engage with fans consistently, in that month leading up to it, like it was business as usual, with genuine easter eggs and stuff to get fans hyped up like they always do, all with the assumption filming was just around the corner. And since the strike obviously they have been silent, striking.

Because of how they went about it, it almost felt like a last minute choice, but maybe that was their plan? Like maybe that was the whole point?

If they had posted about the strike too soon or gave the impression filming wasn't actually right around the corner, that might have worked against them? Maybe they wanted to give everyone, including Netflix, the impression that filming was starting in June as planned, but then pull the rug under everyone once the strike finally got set in motion?

Because tbh the Duffers joining in on the strike is one of the biggest power moves of all of the power moves going on out there. ALL of them. Netflix is believed to be who is going to hold this strike out more than any other streamer/network.....

And so, technically speaking, seeing as ST5, Netflix's biggest show of all time, cannot start filming until this strike is over... Something's gotta give.

It’s crazy to think, but the second that the strike ends, filming for s5 is going to start getting set up and started. Netflix themselves are putting off the filming of their show rn, not the writers asking for fair wages. Why would we want writers being underpaid to write our shows, while the CEO's are making hundreds of millions...? Why in the hell would Netflix want to force the writers to settle for a horrible deal in the end, only to have them return to work saying HEY welcome back sorry about that. The animosity, the whole vibe would be awful. Out of everyone, least of all the writers don't want to have to go back to work feeling defeated and wronged, only to be expected to create their best work to date. They're all out here doing what they're doing because they love it and now their standing up to say they want to be properly compensated for all that work and dedication. It's not asking that much and that's the reality of the situation. Netflix needs to face that reality before they lose the trust of their entire work force and user base.

There's another aspect to this I want to guess, and it sort of pisses me off, but I'm going to say it anyways because I had thought about it a while back.

I made claims over these last few months, that I thought it would take between 10-12 months to film ST5 (for in-demand actors schedule conflict reasons) and with another 7 months at least for post production. This assumption put s5 at a late fall 2024 release or an early spring 2025 release.

One main concern I had back then, but didn't really talk about, was how even though a March 2025 release seemed like plenty of time, that because Netflix is known for their love of ST seasons releasing in the summer, what if they held off to do just that?.

Netflix is convinced summer it's when ST will get the most views. They have a whole thing about it. And so, I worried that even though the math added up to March 2025, even as a worst case scenario, that for some reason, we could end up getting it in summer 2025.

Another reason why I think Netflix would want a summer 2025 release as opposed to a fall 2024 or a spring 2025, is because the longer ST stays on their platform with this hype for it with a new season still coming, the better.

Once Stranger Things is gone, there are just so many unknowns for Netflix...

While I doubt they're so unreasonable as to wait it out until Summer 2026 (I'm giving them the benefit of the doubt here), I wouldn't be surprised if one factor for why they are okay with waiting this strike out for a good 3-4 months at least, is because then they'll be able to have the excuse to release ST5 in summer 2025, despite all the complaints from consumers saying its too long of a wait, with the excuse being, well the strike happened and that's just the way it is.

And so yeah having this thought recently sort of pissed me off. Just because I think they would benefit a lot from a Summer 2025 release vs. anything earlier than that, along with them preferring their summer releases.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think this is their only reason for doing what they're doing by all means. However, if ST is a big concern and deciding factor for them regardless (it is), then they are arguably thinking about the worst and best case scenarios, and ST5 Summer 2025 probably doesn't sound all that bad to them...

Filming for ST5 would need to start in about 5ish months from now, for them to have a comfortable Summer 2025 release, imo. This is how I feel right now based on my assumptions on how long filming and post-production will take, being about 16-19 months overall.

BUT again I think that them holding out too long is not looking good for their brand which is already really at risk as it is.

It's hard to have aesthetic luncheons with investors and advertisers and new talent hoping to join the happy family, when there's all this negative press surrounding them, making people think twice before wanting to associate with them.

I would say now, more than ever before, I am pretty cautiously optimistic.

If the writers and the actors AND even directors were to go on strike, all at once, that's not exactly heard of. As far as I know that's never happened in our history. Hell even if it's just the writers and the actors, who are the directors going to direct exactly??!??

I do wonder how far they're going to be willing to take this.

It's just pennies for them to resolve this, like it could literally be resolved with the person at the top saying just get it done with and we'd be on our way.

But they're greedy about short term gains and they also want to create an environment of having their employees fear risking losing it all, having no choice but to accept the bare minimum, than for them to feel the courage to actually stand up at the risk of losing it all.

It's going to be an interesting next few weeks and potentially months, depending on how the next few weeks go down...

Again, cautiously optimistic!

[birdy-the-tweet]

Character Catalog

“Flint”

“Flint”, as she prefers to be called, is an informant and spy that joins the Nexo Knights in the middle of Season One. Though having no correlation to the realm’s chivalrous system of justice, her experiences as a nomad and civilian grant the team connections to lower places in the kingdom.

Family and History

As far as the knights are aware of, Flint isn’t her actual name but rather the name she chose for herself. She claims she lost her actual name at birth to the hands of a changeling and narrowly survived the effects of replacement. Everyone can agree it was a cruel fate for a child.

She, kind of like Dauntless, grew up nomadic and traveled with her family across the realm consistently in accordance with the changing seasons and flow of nature. Her loved ones would spend many nights in local towns and villages, then travel to the next over time. Because of their low status in society and the obscurity of their family name, they would develop many friendships and contacts with individuals who worked away from the eyes of monarch officials and noblemen, criminals and underground inventors alike. One of her favorite catchphrases is “I know a friend in a low place” or something along the lines of that. And eventually, when she was old enough, she left the guidance of her parents and sought out her own adventures across the kingdom.

The day she joined the team, she fled her current home south of Spittoon and begged for the assistance of the knights. She claimed the townspeople, including herself, had been inflicted with some sort of energy and endured nonstop hallucinations of their worst fears. The only way she was able to escape the grasp of the arcane curse was to run as far from the village as she could in hopes of finding someone to help. Determined to aid the civilians before the curse could bring physical harm to them or to others beyond the town, the knights accepted her plea and welcomed her into the Fortrex. She’s been a friend and informant to the group ever since.

Personality

Born with a quiet spirit, Flint doesn’t actively engage in social activities but isn’t afraid to speak when spoken to either. Her tolerance of conversation with strangers can be described as purely necessity to survive, something only people who’ve worked in customer service can relate to. She’s normally a wallflower, but as she spends more time with the knights, she becomes more open to adding her input into discussions and battle plans.

Her experience in street smarts and background as a traveler gives her unrivaled intelligence in the many historical highlights and conflicts of the world, and she can even recite stories about personal encounters with monsters once deemed only fiction. Only Dauntless competes with her knowledge, but the two share an equal interest in the realm’s past and commonly quiz each other. Everyone calls them both history nerds, something they take as a heartwarming compliment.

Flint has a mild adoration for dance, specifically performances that blend dance routines with combat styles. But you’ll never find her indulging in her interests in public, not even at academy dances or nights at the club. She’d rather keep to a wall and watch everyone else enjoy the night.

Trivia

• The name “Flint” is a reference to the tool “flint”. Flint, or flintstone, is a sedimentary rock usually used to make stone tools or start fires, key elements in survival.

• She is the shortest member of the team at 5’2” and weighs 153 lbs.

• Her arms appear to have severe burn scars, but the skin itself doesn’t show any physical signs of damage. After many analyses, Ava confirmed they were simply markings. The same goes for her facial markings.

• She is naturally born with partial heterochromia in her eyes. One eyes is forest green, and the other is a dull orange with a single green speck around the pupil.

• She wears a beautiful runic tattoo on the back of her neck. Nobody knows what it means if anything at all.

• You’ll always find her wrapped up in some sort of fabric or residing close to a fire to keep warm, for she can’t preserve heat well naturally. The hooded shawl she wears as her signature article of clothing is designed like a heated blanket for this reason alone.

• Ice cream is one of her favorite foods. Yes it’s a food, and yes it counts.

• Unlike Macy, she likes wearing dresses so long as they hide her stomach from view.

• The group once discussed what her crest would be if she had a knight’s shield. After much consideration, she chose the viper.

• During nights when she can’t sleep, she’ll visit the Fortrex’s library and read as many books as she can.

• She goes by she/they and is a lesbian.

[kth1]

Run BTS! Gif Series Mlist

☆ Kim Taehyung Focus

Below is a list of all Run Bts! episodes attached with the links to the KTH gifset I make for each episode. There is possibility in the future where I introduce other focuses.

For the sake of lists/characters -- I've put the seasons together with only the numbered episode. No titles or descriptions.

You may also find the most recently posted gifs (completely out of order) here at  *runbts!

Number of current Run BTS! episodes: 156 *key: bolded and underlined means there is a link!

☆ Season 1:

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6(1) - 6(2) - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

☆ Season 2:

11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 - 31 - 32 - 33 - 34 - 35 - 36 - 37 - 38 - 39 - 40 - 41 - 42 - 43 - 44 - 45 - 46 - 47 - 48 - 49 - 50 - 51 - 52 - 53 - 54 - 55 - 56

☆ Season 3:

57 - 58 - 59 - 60 - 61 - 62 - 63 - 64 - 65 - 66 - 67 - 68 - 69 - 70 - 71 - 72 - 73 - 74 - 75 - 76 - 77 - 78 - 79 - 80 - 81 - 82 - 83 - 84 - 85 - 86 - 87 - 88 - 89 - 90 - 91 - 92 - 93 - 94 - 95 - 96 - 97 - 98 - 99 - 100 - 101 - 102 - 103 - 104 - 105 - 106 - 107 - 108 - 109 - 110 - 111 - 112 - 113 - 114 - 115 - 116 - 117 - 118 - 119 - 120 - 121 - 122 - 123 - 124 - 125 - 126 - 127 - 128 - 129 - 130 - 131 - 132 - 133 - 134 - 135 - 136 - 137 - 138 - 139 - 140 - 141 - 142 - 143 - 144 - 145 - 146 - 147 - 148 - 149 - 150 - 151 - 152 - 153 - 154 - 155

☆ Specials:

1 - Telepathy Part 1 2 - Telepathy Part 2 3 - Fly BTS Fly Part 1 4 - Fly BTS Fly Part 2 5 - ‘RUN BTS TV’ On-air Part 1 6 - ‘RUN BTS TV’ On-air Part 1 7 - Next Top Genius Part 1 8 - Next Top Genius Part 2 9 - Mini Field Day Part 1 10 - Mini Field Day Part 2

☆ Special Live:

Run! BTS Live in Thailand

☆ Director’s Cut:

1 - Survival Director’s Cut (Episode 101) 2 - Dubbing Director’s Cut (Episode 109)

☆ The Game Caterers x Run BTS! (2021): 

1 -  The Game Caterers x Run BTS! 2 (Continues from Ep. 140) Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 2 -  The Game Caterers x Run BTS! 4 (Continues from Ep. 141) Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Last updated: 231113

[dailyclassicwho]

Doctor Who Stories

← BACK TO INDEX

Season 01

001. An Unearthly Child 002. The Daleks 003. The Edge of Destruction 004. Marco Polo 005. The Keys of Marinus 006. The Aztecs 007. The Sensorites 008. The Reign of Terror

Season 02

009. Planet of Giants 010. The Dalek Invasion of Earth 011. The Rescue 012. The Romans 013. The Web Planet 014. The Crusade 015. The Space Museum 016. The Chase 017. The Time Meddler

Season 03

018. Galaxy Four 019. Mission to the Unknown 020. The Myth Makers 021. The Daleks' Master Plan 022. The Massace of St. Bartholomews Eve 023. The Ark 024. The Celestial Toymaker 025. The Gunfighters 026. The Savages 027. The War Machines

Season 04

028. The Smugglers 029. The Tenth Planet 030. The Power of the Daleks 031. The Highlanders 032. The Underwater Menace 033. The Moonbase 034. The Macra Terror 035. The Faceless Ones 036. The Evil of the Daleks

Season 05

037. The Tomb of the Cybermen 038. The Adbominable Snowmen 039. The Ice Warriors 040. The Enemy of the World 041. The Web of Fear 042. Fury From the Deep 043. The Wheel in Space

Season 06

044. The Dominators 045. The Mind Robber 046. The Invasion 047. The Krotons 048. The Seeds of Death 049. The Space Pirates 050. The War Games

Season 07

051. Spearhead From Space 052. The Silurians 053. The Ambassadors of Death 054. Inferno

Season 08

055. Terror of the Autons 056. The Mind of Evil 057. The Claw of Axos 058. Colony in Space 059. The Daemons

Season 09

060. Day of the Daleks 061. The Curse of Peladon 062. The Sea Devils 063. The Mutants 064. The Time Monster

Season 10

065. The Three Doctors 066. The Carnival of Monsters 067. The Frontier of Space 068. Planet of the Daleks 069. The Green Death

Season 11

070. The Time Warrior 071. Invasion of the Dinosaurs 072. Death to the Daleks 073. The Monster of Peladon 074. Planet of the Spiders

Season 12

075. Robot 076. The Ark in Space 077. The Sontaran Experiment 078. Genesis of the Daleks 079. Revenge of the Cybermen

Season 13

080. Terror of the Zygons 081. Planet of Evil 082. Pyramids of Mars 083. The Android Invasion 084. The Brain of Morbius 085. The Seeds of Doom

Season 14

086. The Masque of Mandragora 087. The Hand of Fear 088. The Deadly Assassin 089. The Face of Evil 090. The Robots of Death 091. The Talons of Weng-Chiang

Season 15

092. Horror of Fang Rock 093. The Invisible Enemy 094. Image of the Fendahl 095. The Sunmakers 096. Underworld 097. The Invasion of Time

Season 16 (The Key to Time)

098. The Ribos Operation 099. The Pirate Planet 100. The Stones of Blood 101. The Androids of Tara 102. The Power of Kroll 103. The Armageddon Factor

Season 17

104. Destiny of the Daleks 105. City of Death 106. The Creature From the Pit 107. Nightmare of Eden 108. The Horns of Nimon 108.5. Shada

Season 18

109. The Leisure Hive 110. Meglos 111. Full Circle 112. State of Decay 113. Warriors' Gate 114. The Keeper of Traken 115. Logopolis

Season 19

116. Castrovalva 117. Four to Doomsday 118. Kinda 119. The Visitation 120. Black Orchid 121. Earthshock 122. Time-Flight

Season 20

123. Arc of Infinity 124. Snakedance 125. Mawdryn Undead 126. Terminus 127. Englightenment 128. The King's Demons 129. The Five Doctors

Season 21

130. Warriors of the Deep 131. The Awakening 132. Frontios 133. Resurrection of the Daleks 134. Planet of Fire 135. The Caves of Androzani

Season 22

136. Attack of the Cybermen 137. Vengeance on Varos 138. The Mark of the Rani 139. The Two Doctors 140. Timelash 141. Revelation of the Daleks

Season 23 (Trial of a Timelord)

143A. The Mysterious Planet 143B. Mindwarp 143C. Terror of the Vervoids 143D. The Ultimate Foe

Season 24

144. Time and the Rani 145. Paradise Towers 146. Delta and the Bannermen 147. Dragonfire

Season 25

148. Remembrance of the Daleks 149. The Happiness Patrol 150. Silver Nemesis 151. The Greatest Show in the Galaxy

Season 26

152. Battlefield 153. Ghost Light 154. The Curse of Fenric 155. Survival

[wiispywitch]

Attack on Titan OC - Taylor "Tay" Schuyler🌻🧡🌒

♡.ToyHou.se | Instagram | AO3

{CW: Mentions of self-harm, spoilers for Attack on Titan}

~

Name: Taylor Schuyler

Meaning: Taylor- to cut; Schuyler- scholar

Alias (if any): N/A

Nickname(s): Tay (her preferred name), Sunflower (by her father), Tay-Tay (by the twins and Joanna), Doe

Age: 16 (850); 20 (854)

Gender: Female

Nationality: Eldian (German-French descent)

Birthday: May 31st, 834

Birthplace: Windsor Village, Wall Rose

Current Residence: Scout Regiment Headquarters (location varies)

Sexual Orientation: Demisexual

Relationship Status: Single (gets together with Eren in 854)

Language(s) spoken: Eldian

Life-Long Dream: To travel the outside world, and fill out a sketchbook of her journeys and create paintings of brand new landmarks

Goal(s): To fulfill her dream of freedom beyond the walls, to make her family proud, to fulfill her father’s dream, to improve her combat skills

Like(s): Sketchbooks and journals, drawing, collecting painting supplies, sewing, exploring new places, rainy days, cleaning, her family and friends, strawberry cream cake, rats, smooth calligraphy pens, painting by the river, talking about her passions, Agatha, flowers

Dislike(s): Titans, migraines, entitled people, being uninspired, people looking through her sketchbook without permission, being talked down upon, the dark, cold weather, moving around on the ODM-gear, a messy workspace, tea

Bad Habit(s): Overthinks, quick to panic, daydreams too much, bites her nails, scratches her arms or neck when she's overly anxious, has a hard time saying no, fidgets with her locket when she’s nervous or bored

Hobbies: Drawing, painting, sewing, baking, writing

Fear(s): Becoming a failure, the dark, disappointing her family, losing her family and comrades, being eaten by a titan, making her Uncle Eli angry

Personality: Loyal, creative, determined, anxious, ambitious, generous, hardworking, insecure, moralistic, obedient, compassionate

Favorites(not necessary)-

Food(s): Bacon, strawberry cream cake

Color(s): Warm colors, soft pink

Season(s): Autumn

Activities: Sketching, painting, sewing

Time of Day: Night time

Extras: Art- sketching, oil painting; Animals- cats, foxes; Literature- mythology, horror; Flower- Sunflower

Appearance-

Height: 5' (153 cm)

Weight: 129 lbs. (59 kg)

Hair style: Short, slightly wavy at the tips, bangs parted from her face

Hair Color: Strawberry brunette

Eye Color: Forest green

Skin Tone: Peachy

Body Shape/Build: Petite, curvy hips, slightly muscular, full thighs

Birthmarks: N/A

Scar(s): She has burn scars on her shoulder blade after surviving the recovery operation of Shinganshina 

Other: N/A

Health-

Memory: While she has a habit of zoning out sometimes, she does have a very good memory and can be very observant.

Sight (do you need glasses?): Normal

Mental: She struggles with severe anxiety and is easily prone to anxiety attacks

Physical: When she gets really frustrated or nervous, she tends to scratch her skin, mostly her neck or arms. At one point, it got so bad that she ended up bleeding. She's hard of hearing in her right ear after surviving the battle of Shinganshina and using a flare gun to signal her location without properly covering her ear.

Sleep patterns (how you sleep and how much rest do you get?): She doesn’t have the best sleep schedule. She likes to stay up a little later, especially when she’s working on a drawing. This ends up backfiring on her the next morning, but she never learns her lesson.

Allergies/Other: She gets migraines easily. Due to her sensitive stomach, she will often get motion sickness after flying around the gear for so long; she has thrown up the first few times when she was training to use it, but she forced herself to get used to it and that's proven to be her best skill. She is very lactose intolerant.

Abilities/Statistics (1- lowly skilled, 10- highly skilled and tell why)-

3D Maneuvering Gear: 6.5/10, great as a distraction however is easily prone to motion sickness if she uses it for too long or has intense movements 

Intelligence: 7/10

Martial Arts: 5.5/10

Battle Skill: 3.5/10

Agility: 9/10

Strategy: 4/10

Teamwork: 8.5/10

Passion: 9/10

Affiliation: Scout Regiment; Yeagerist

Former Affiliation: 104th Cadet Corps 

Grad. Rank: 13th

Status (Alive, Missing, etc.): Alive

Relationships-

Parent(s): Dawson Schuyler (late-father), Miriam Schuyler (mother)

Sibling(s): Nathanael Schuyler (oldest brother), Corine Schuyler (younger sister), Clovis Schuyler (youngest brother)

Other Relative(s): Elijah Kaufman (familial friend), Agatha (pet cat), Sara Weber (sister-in-law), Alexandria Schuyler (niece)

Love Interest: Eren Yeager

Best Friend(s): Melody Oglethorpe, Joanna Elytis, Mikasa Ackerman

Friend(s): Sara Weber, Eren Yeager, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirsten, Connie Springer, Marco Bodt, Sasha Blouse, Historia Reiss, Reiner Braun, Franz Kefka, Hannah Diamant, Mina Carolina, Reiner Braun (former), Thomas Wagner, Dr. Finch, Sam Dossam, Niccolo, Bethany Sawyer

Enemy(ies): Titans, Elijah Kaufman, Reiner Braun, Floch Forster, Zeke Yeager

Hero(es): Hange Zoë 

Rival(s): N/A

Quote(s):

“There’s a lot of stories to tell behind a painting or even a simple drawing. That’s why I always wanted to see the world outside and bring a journal with me. I wanted to make paintings of what I would see and tell my own stories of my adventures of getting to experience what freedom felt like.”

“I may not be as strong as my comrades, but that won’t stop me from trying to fight. I'm not some scared little girl anymore, I'm a soldier dedicating my heart to humanity, and I'm here to take back my freedom!”

“Then I’ll help you…I know what I’m getting myself into, I know the risks, but I don’t want to just stand aside and wait to die, not if it means I can’t at least try to fight for the sake of giving the people I love a better life than this. So I’ll help you.”

History/Life: Taylor Schuyler is the second daughter of the Schuyler household of Windsor Village. Her father Dawson was a squad leader for the Scout Regiment, and her mother Miriam was the owner of the town’s local bakery. Taylor—Tay, as she likes to be called—worked alongside her mother and older brother Nathanael in running the bakery and going on bread-runs into Trost. As a child, Tay was very shy and only had one best friend—Melody Oglethorpe, the daughter of the owner of Windsor Ranch where Nathanael and Tay loved to frequent—and was almost always by the side of her big brother. Despite her introverted and awkward personality, she had a strong bond with her family and her circle of friends. One of her biggest passions when she wasn't working was art, and had been shown to have quite a talent for it. Everywhere she went, she carried a satchel containing all the supplies she needed: a sketchbook, graphites, colored pastels, and oil paints. When she found that Nathanael was planning to join the scouts, Tay made the quick decision to go with him, and to help fight alongside their father and their uncle Elijah Kaufman for humanity’s glory, and she made her goal to someday explore the outside world to create marvelous paintings and artworks of what she finds on the other side of the walls. When Dawson was killed on an expedition and Elijah returned severely injured, this tragedy left the Schuyler family devastated, especially Tay who was “Daddy’s little girl.” As a result, Nathanael made Tay promise to never join the scouts, and as such would hold off on applying for the cadets to remain with their mother and the twins during their time of grief. In the year 845 after the titan attack on Wall Maria, Tay enlisted in the 104th Cadet Corps alongside Nathanael, Mel, and Mel’s close friend Sam Dossam—however instead of training for the scouts, she was training to make the top ten in order to apply for the Military Police to obtain the benefits to support her family, just the same as her big brother. Throughout the course of her training, Tay wasn’t the strongest or brightest recruit in her squad; in fact, she was viewed as the weakest, and the constant struggles worsened her anxiety to the point of breakdowns. She would've been sent out to the fields had she not worked herself to exhaustion in order to prove to Commandant Keith Shadis that she was capable of becoming a strong soldier. It took her the longest to get used to using the ODM gear, despite how easily sick it made her, and after intense training and help from others, she became an expert at functioning the gear and it's now considered her best skill in combat. Her training was also a factor in her changing as a person: Over the years, Elijah had emotionally abused her after becoming an alcoholic, and had conned her out of money claiming he was getting help for his injured leg until she found out that he was using her money for gambling. She gained the courage to confront him, but when he attempted to harm her she fought back and made it clear she would no longer take his abuse. 

Throughout her training, she began to have second thoughts about joining the interior. She had formed an unlikely friendship with the titan-killing-obsessed blockhead Eren Yeager, a cadet with set ambitions on joining the scouts. She didn’t make the top ten, but she was still offered a position in the interior upon recommendation. She knew what she truly wanted, and it was after the traumatic titan attack in Trost, she reluctantly made the decision to join the Scout Regiment. She was taken under the wing of Section Commander Hange Zoë and Joanna Elytis, and in charge of taking sketched documentations and journaling any valuable information on missions. Four years later, Tay joined the Yeagerist movement to help achieve Eren’s goal to give their precious friends a better life and ensure the protection of their island from any outside enemies.

Tay met Eren Yeager and Mikasa Ackerman a year before Wall Maria fell. When her youngest brother Clovis fell ill with bronchitis, Grisha Yeager traveled with his son and adopted daughter to explore and perhaps make new friends. Eren was initially hostile towards her at first whilst Mikasa was harder to read, but the three of them seemed to warm up to each other. She wouldn't see them again after they returned to Shinganshina. Eren, Mikasa, and their friend Armin took shelter in Trost after their home was destroyed. In a desperate attempt to get food, Eren tried to steal bread when Tay was out on her first bread-run on her own. To his surprise, Tay was able to fight back, but upon seeing how desperate he was to get food for his friends and remembering that his dad helped her family she thought she owed it to them. Eren saw her as an odd girl and didn't understand why she was always so nice to him, and was sometimes a little annoyed with her antics. There have been many incidents where she put him in his place and proved to him she wasn’t a doormat. They grew closer over the years, and as crazy as Tay thought he was for daring to want to join the Scout Regiment, she admired him for being set on achieving his freedom and he was one of the reasons she was inspired to go. When he was around her, Eren was always laughing and smiling at some of her jokes, and he felt like he could open up to her. Their bond led to them developing feelings for each other, but it took them some time to be honest about how they felt due to their shared fear of facing death before they could be together.

Despite the losses and the battle she had to face, letting go of those who have used and abused her kindness and generosity, and the trials she would face in her relationship with Eren, Tay fought hard to become the soldier she always wanted to be in order to finally achieve the free life she always wanted. 

Bonus Facts

-Her voice: Japanese- Miyuki Sawashiro (Kurapika, Hunter X Hunter); English- Suzie Yeung (Makima, Chainsaw Man)

-She started off as a self-insert character created way back in 2016 to be paired with my comfort character Eren Yeager. As self-indulgent as this OC and her story is, it’s become something that brings me much comfort with the characters I’ve grown to love, and I still see myself in her and means a lot to me (yes, I'm biased, shhhh)

-She's a Gemini.

-She has a cinnamon scent.

-Her alignment is lawful-good.

-Dawson was convinced that before Jane was born that she was going to be a boy and picked the name for her. When she was born and he found out she was wrong, he insisted they keep her name because he thought it suited her.

-She got her favorite locket from a merchant when she and her friends visited the marketplace. She loved the detailed engraving of the Wings of Freedom, but kept it empty until she decided what sketch to put inside. After the Rumbling, she puts a sketch of Eren inside of her locket.

-She tried to improve her drawing skills so she could draw a perfect picture of Dawson so she didn't forget what he looked like. Art is something very therapeutic for her and helps her relax.

-She doesn't want to have children and put them through what she's been through. There's also the factor that she doesn't really like children that much.

-She is very secretive about her sketchbook and will only let very few people look at it. Nathanael flipped a page before she could warn him and he ended up finding some nude art, and they never spoke of this nor did he dare do that again.

-Eren asked Tay if she could draw a picture of his late-mother and tried his best to describe her as to not forget what she looked like. When she showed him the drawing, he cried from happiness knowing he wouldn't forget his mother's face.

-In a modern AU, she works as a barista for an independent café/freelancing artist. Her aesthetic would also be pink goth that matches Eren's grunge aesthetic. (Power couple.)

-Her cat Agatha is based off of my real life cat, also named Agatha

-Being an Aries and Gemini pairing, Eren and Tay balance each other out and it makes them a compatible couple. She finds herself intrigued by his determination and encourages him to pursue his dreams, and he finds himself always listening to her go on her biggest passions and she is soon willing to open up to him. They bring out the best in each other, however they do have a handful of issues with both of them being as hard headed, and Tay will not hesitate to tell him off if he raises his voice at her.

-Tay and Mel are such close friends that a majority of their friends and Nathanael thought they were dating for the longest time.

-The ship name between her and Eren is TayRen

-Her spirit animal is a doe

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OC Profile Credit- AliceCantBeStopped; Divider- ianrkives