#fear and hunger? more like freak and hunger

[cupids-killshot]

Quick sketch, don’t look too hard at it

FEAR AND HUNGER

[izzyspussy]

i think a lot of people have never been in a truly desperate situation but think they have, and this causes them to pass really harsh judgment on people who made bad choices when either irrational or having no good choices to pick instead, and i really wish people could get some fucking self-perception and work on their compassion skills and not fucking do that as much anymore

[enkibutnice]

“How you doing gothboy?... no I can’t tell you what we were talking about, its boyclub stuff”

YOU LOVE MY GAY NERDY ASS AND ARE JEALOUS THAT ME AND RAGNAVALDR WILL HOLD HANDS WHILE DYING IN A DUNGEOn...well... jealous that he gets to cradle me while I die

also I have never been so determined to make a pinecone pig in my whole life

[md-intermission-archive]

"Murder Drones: Intermission": A Story of Understanding

Uzi Doorman: Understanding Loneliness

I feel like during the development of this episode, Uzi was the hardest character for me to wrap my head around. To my understanding, she’s feisty, angsty, and plays up this persona of being apathetic. A sort of lone wolf thing.

She’s snappy towards her classmates who ostracize her, snappy towards adults in her life, and overall gives a middle finger to anyone who isn’t on Team Uzi. It’s a very “me vs. the world” type of thing. That, to me, just felt like the callous shell of someone who’s painfully fragile and has been hurt so often.

I will admit, I may be projecting slightly, but I honestly read her as like… a neurodivergent kid who didn’t know how to navigate social circles, so she just became incredibly bitter. Her father didn’t help her situation at all because he also treated her like a freak, literally calling her a disappointment in his business ads. Then on top of all that she had no mother figure to look up to. All of this accumulates into a habit of isolation. “No one will love me, so fuck it. I’m on my own”. She acts like she’s fine on her own, when in reality she’s so starved for genuine connection. With that in mind, in Intermission I wanted to peel back those layers a little bit. I wanted to explore self-isolation and that hunger for love. 

Some people clocked this I think: the way Uzi’s attitude is toned down in Intermission. I didn’t want to play up her angsty teen act as much (and I capped her at one “bite me”) because then I’d risk falling into the trap of making her into a caricature of herself. The way I framed her in my head is “if she wants connection, then she’d be happier around people who she sees as her friends. If she’s also fragile though, she’ll make an immediate 180 at the slightest hint of meanspiritedness”. This was the guideline I gave myself when it came to bouncing her off of V and N. N melts her icy demeanor. He’s very gentle and encouraging with her. One example being how N kneeled down to her eye level when speaking to her when she was putting up her walls again. As someone who’s constantly ostracized, she needs a gentle touch in order to relax.

I made sure to keep that in mind, that while she was being treated gently, she should show more signs of happiness. Comfort. Part of that comfort is also reflected in being mischievous/playful. As for the 180 she makes if shown any sort of cruelty, that’s reflected in acts of self-isolation. 

This is something I’ve observed from myself and people in my life. If someone is already deathly afraid of rejection, they won’t reach out for help and their immediate instinct will be to isolate. In the beginning of the EP when Uzi’s having her Solver flare up her immediate thought is “I’m going to put up a firewall (repress) and just not even mention this to anybody”. Then when N offers to help, she still shows signs of being uncomfortable because she’s not used to it. It isn’t until V’s comment calling her a lost cause irks her that she decides “screw it let’s give it a shot”. She hates being underestimated, so this reaction made sense to me. Meanwhile the climax of the episode is where I wanted the most overt display of her fears to be presented.

As I said earlier, Uzi’s sensitive to rejection. She attacked the only people in her life who care about her, and the worst part was it wasn’t even her fault. Uzi is a person who really wants a sense of control over her life for the sake of security, so that loss of control and the idea of “oh my god they hate me now” was the final straw for her. So, she isolated. She ran off (or in this case, flew off), she barricaded herself, and she cried.

During the scene when Uzi's found, I had a bit of an issue figuring out where to go from there with her. I had two options: I could once again lean into her badass persona and have her fight back, or I could have her fold. I decided the latter. To her, she just lost the only people who cared about her, she's a monster to worker drone society, her father doesn't care about her.

What's the point. She's doomed to be alone.

If V didn't have her revelation, Uzi would've let herself die. While I understand that's an upsetting choice to make in the narrative, given Uzi's circumstances it felt like the appropriate reaction. Which is why the events following were so important.

While Uzi's at her lowest point she's shown pinch of kindness.

While it’s true V’s initial intention was to off Uzi, her showing compassion and sympathy was what helped calm Uzi down. Rather than making her put up walls like V usually does, V was able to break through them a tad. That interaction, N pouncing at her with a hug, and the final scene was meant to cement in Uzi’s head that she finally wasn’t alone (even if V still struggled to not be prickly with her). The three are still incredibly messy, but there’s that sense of trust that Uzi now has people in her life that actually care about her despite her messiness. The mischievous attitude even comes out when she says, “you found a nanospark of warmth in your heart to care about me”. She now feels more comfortable with V to an extent, and she finally has a support system.

I think…the reason why I love Uzi so much is that she’s sadly reflects the experience of what it's like not being able to fit into society's mold of acceptable. Even if she might not be neurodivergent, the bullying and isolation she experiences is very familiar. I wanted to do her justice as much as I could with that all in mind and with the resources I had. I wanted to give her one happy ending to a day when every other feels like utter hell.

The angsty teen may be badass, but her heart is still fragile.

[choerypetal]

Cherry Red / Coriolanus Snow

summary : Snow had always harbored a liking for you, and your awareness of the platonic relationship with Sejanus only fueled his obsession, eventually culminating in decisions like appointing you as the First Lady of Panem. Just two pretty bestfriends both in awe by your beauty.

I apologize for any grammar errors as English is not my first language. Additionally, please refrain from copying my work without proper credit, as it may result in being flagged. Thank you!

How does one begin to describe this innocent youth, who simply wished for Panem to thrive in tranquility? Fate thrust him into the shadows of the reaping ceremony or the role of a mentor due to his father's actions. Despite being fully aware that survival in the Games was improbable, he, like many of his peers, managed to mask his fear, a skill he lacked. It was on that fateful day that he first laid eyes on you. 

You served as his mentor, a role you assumed without the same coercion he experienced. Unlike him, you had the choice to either be a mentor or a regular student at the Academy. Yet, recognizing that being among the select few who would secure a favorable position in the university and potentially pave the way for a brighter future for your family, you saw it as the least profitable option you could contribute. Even if it meant overseeing the fate of a stranger, your assigned tribute, in a perilous game of cat and mouse. 

During the inaugural week of the Games, you found yourself alongside Sejanus as you met your assigned tributes. Despite Sejanus displaying a sense of conscience regarding the circumstances and grappling with the notion of witnessing another species confined in a cage, he observed closely as you tended to your tribute. From that pivotal moment onward, each day saw him adopting a similar approach—nurturing his tribute, attending to their well-being, and primarily focusing on their strengths, all while harboring his internal opposition to the entire ordeal. 

You were the one who comforted him in the aftermath of the accident following the memorial for Arachne. While he was paying tribute to his deceased classmate, Snow instructed you to remove Sejanus from the scene. He, too, attempted to cling to her in a desperate effort to preserve her life, but it was already too late. With your guidance, advising Sejanus to shift his focus away from the crime scene, he found solace when you encouraged him to breathe and exhale. You assured him that everything would be okay. 

After that initial encounter with him, he underwent a profound transformation, growing closer to you. Your attentive check-ins during rehearsals, reminiscent of his mother's caring presence, played a significant role in this connection. Even stolen glances in class became a source of solace for him, helping maintain his sanity amidst the chaos of the Hunger Games, a veritable freak show.

You were well aware of his strong opposition to the idea. Despite enduring his complaints, you consistently reassured him that the popularity was just a temporary phase until graduation, and the Capitol would soon move on and forget. However, it turns out you were terribly mistaken. Despite the misjudgment, you believed it was the best you could do at the time. 

Fortunately, your relationship gradually deepened over time, even though you hadn't experienced the concept of falling in love. In a world where survival was commonplace in Panem, the notion of allowing oneself to fall in love seemed as ironic as it was rare. Despite attempting to suppress any burgeoning emotions for Sejanus, his softened gaze upon seeing you and the way he spoke your name with such warmth made it increasingly challenging. This, in turn, fueled suspicion from his friend Snow, who seemed to resent him more, suspecting Sejanus's potential feelings for you. Eventually, it became inevitable that you acknowledged and accepted your emotions toward Sejanus, whether they remained platonic or evolved into something more; the signs were undeniably clear. And Snow hated every bit of it. 

Certainly, rumors circulated throughout the Academy, fueled by the idea that someone as intelligent as you could outsmart even the wealthiest family, such as the Plinth. However, it wasn't until a few days before the commencement of the 10th Hunger Games that the scrutiny from your classmates' watchful eyes compelled you to hide your relationship in shame. You outgrew the stares, until finally implied official a mark to the relationship, all by holding Sejanus's hand with pride. The poor boy, initially taken aback by your sudden display of affection, was well aware of your usual reluctance towards public displays of emotion. Despite this, he began to grasp that your actions spoke of genuine love. It became increasingly evident that the sentiment was more than mutual. 

The aftermath of the Hunger Games told a different tale. Sejanus's emotional breakdown during the games hinted that his involvement was driven by a sense of altruism. However, many of your classmates, including yourself, emerged from the ordeal seemingly unscathed. It was as if you all were like minions, compliant in a sick and twisted game, a game where refusal meant facing death the very next day. The turning point came when you witnessed Sejanus screaming helplessly, condemning the Capitol as "sick monsters." His tear-filled eyes and desperate plea were a stark warning. You felt his gaze fixed on you, but this time, it carried a profound sense of hatred—a gaze that lingered ever since that fateful day. In Sejanus's eyes, you had become a monster, and he was painfully right. 

When Lucy Gray Baird was declared the victor of the 10th Hunger Games, Snow couldn't help but notice the shift in the dynamics of the relationship you had once shared with Sejanus. Despite his previous disdain for Sejanus, Snow's animosity towards his District 2 classmate intensified as he observed the unwavering focus of your eyes on him. You managed to hold back your tears, unlike Sejanus, burst into a complete symphony of a manic episode. Snow recognized that upon his return as a Peacekeeper, that he would make it his priority to take care of you. To Sejanus’s request if he didn’t make it out. 

Sejanus was acutely aware of his impending fate, discerning the emotions in your eyes as you fought to contain your tears—an act you were often admonished for in the harsh realms of reality and sorrow. A palpable distance had grown between you, and he acknowledged that he deserved every bit of it. However, when the news broke that he, too, was joining the Peacekeepers, you couldn't resist bidding him a final farewell. As the departure approached, Snow spotted you, witnessing the emotional exchange with his own eyes. 

He observed you shedding tears for another man, a sight that must have stung his pride. Despite the limited display of affection, there were undeniable traces of your past love for Sejanus. "I'll be a good boy." Sejanus would assure, and as you cupped his face, a rare moment of genuine closeness enveloped you. It was one of the first times you truly felt connected to him, and you yearned to grant him a farewell kiss, recognizing that this might be the last time you'd see him. "I'll keep your picture close with me... Even if you hate me so—" Sejanus began, but you swiftly cut him off, desperately emphasizing that any perceived hatred was rooted in self-centeredness. "I never hated you, Sejanus. Remember that." 

"I will." Came Sejanus's response without a hint of hesitation, and just before he departed, he sought a final taste of your lips. This act served as the last straw for Snow, tempting him to announce that it was time for duty, that he too would soon be called to fulfill his responsibilities. However, he resisted the urge. Instead, he chose to observe what it felt like to be genuinely in love, watching the two lovebirds share their final goodbyes. Though deeply haunted by the realization that Snow wasn't your sole choice, the haunting thoughts accompanied him throughout the journey back to District 12. Snow yearned to make Sejanus prove to whom you truly belonged, finding some solace in the benefits of the situation—until Sejanus's impending death sentence, that is. 

You received word of Sejanus's death while in the Capitol. On that particular day, you joined Sejanus's mother for dinner, a comforting routine that helped alleviate the absence of her son, engaged in his duties away. Despite her earlier tendency to downplay her husband's concerns for their child, she now comprehended the profound emotions you were experiencing mere weeks after Sejanus's departure. It was a moment of revelation for her when she looked into the eyes of her own child, realizing that her husband had been the true villain all along. 

Later that same evening, you started clearing the table when you heard the official news. A Panem Peacekeeper had arrived at your apartment. For some inexplicable reason, an ominous feeling gripped you, signaling that something had happened to Sejanus. Questions swirled in your mind—was he injured, or had homesickness prompted his return? However, any hopeful optimism quickly turned to tears as Sejanus's mother's anguished scream echoed in your thoughts. The heartbreaking truth emerged: Sejanus had passed away. The official explanation cited him as a simple rebel, but you suspected a much darker reality. Sejanus wasn't merely a rebel; he was someone the Capitol despised, refusing any association with their ideologies. 

The Plinth family arranged a formal funeral for their son, and while you had hoped for an invitation, you only learned about it through consequential rumors. Thanks to Tigris, who had the opportunity to style Sejanus's mother for her new job as a stylist, you were surprised to discover the disgraceful rumors circulating about your family. It was suggested that you had manipulated Sejanus to bend to your will, driven by your ambitions in the Games and an unbridled willingness to perpetuate a sick and twisted narrative for another year. 

According to this narrative, you were deemed no different from the rest—a citizen with psychotic tendencies, adorned in the veneer of fake affluence. These rumors reached Snow as he returned calls to Tigris back home, he wanted some update about you. Know how you were doing, as Tigris before hand had your confirmation that she would tell what had happened. Which provided a simple yet substantial reasons for his disdain towards the Plinth family from the very beginning, not only due to their subjective opinions but also their newfound hatred towards you. 

Upon returning to his role as a Peacekeeper, Snow found greater delight in seeing you. As you had gradually gained acceptance to the university yourself, securing a personal apartment became a challenging endeavor. The recent imposition of a new tax by the Plinth family added to the financial strain, making it doubly difficult to cover your university expenses. Fortunately, Tigris stepped in to assist, swiftly helping you secure a job. A renowned cabaret in the Capitol was in need of entertainers, and although hesitant to showcase your body for money, you recognized it as a necessary option. Fortunately, your employer treated the dancers well, and as long as you were able to pay your bills, he harbored no objections. Over time, you even developed a group of favorite regular customers. 

The streets of the Capitol had changed since his arrival. Not only had his hair grown, but wearing his father's wealth, symbolized by a stupid coat, had also demonstrated a newfound influence. Snow made sure to flaunt this affluence. The prospect of returning to the university and seeing you again mattered most to him. However, it wasn't until that particular evening when he decided to stop by your apartment that he noticed your absence. Puzzled, he thought to himself, as it was typically your time to prepare dinner or watch local television. Surveying the surroundings for any clue to your whereabouts, he recalled that his cousin Tigris had briefly mentioned something about you being the talk of the town lately. This revelation prompted Snow to consider searching the deeper and less savory streets of Panem for answers. 

It didn't take him long; as soon as the sun set and the lights of Panem's stores illuminated the streets, he spotted a poster. There, your face stared back at him, unmistakably you. "Cherry Red this afternoon! 9 PM!" Proclaimed the bold red and gold font, showcasing your entire body. Snow couldn't believe it—let alone fathom the idea of other men being captivated by you. Nevertheless, he entered. 

True to the promise, only the least affluent men in Panem and fellow Peacekeepers populated the bar. It being a Friday evening meant people were there to unwind and prepare for the weekend. Snow found himself struck by the stark contrast between his own downfall and the impoverished part of the Capitol. Despite the surroundings, he couldn't help but marvel at the luxury and lifelike atmosphere of the cabaret. Soon, other dancers spotted him, offering drinks or suggesting a little show, but he declined, asserting that he was there only for you, using your stage name, Cherry Red. 

Fortunately, he arrived just in time for your performance. With a man who wore outfits reminiscent of Flickerman noticed Snow's arrival, sporting a somewhat absurd demeanor. Cheeks flushed, a clear sign of pre-show indulgence, he exclaimed each word of your name with awe and pride. "Ladies and Gentlemen! Tonight, we have someone we love so much right here at Pub Rouge. It is none other than our favorite, Cherry Red!" 

Snow uncomfortably fell in line with the predominantly male clientele. Hearing "Ladies and Gentlemen." Was just one of the few flaws in the cabaret that he would have corrected if given the chance. To avoid arousing suspicions, he simply followed along, clapping like everyone else. However, rather than voicing your name in a distasteful manner, Snow quietly waited for your performance. 

The room filled with the vibrant sounds of the band and trumpets as you gracefully took the stage. Your outfit perfectly mirrored your name—bold and red as cherries. For those observant enough, it seemed as if Snow intentionally coordinated his attire to match yours. You immersed yourself in the character, embodying the woman you intended to be. The men of your age exhibited a mix of pride and envy, further boosting your confidence. Your playful interactions, especially teasing one of the Peacekeepers, earned you considerable admiration, much to Snow's chagrin. He overheard some background chatter about you, with phrases like. "I'd be with her anytime. Have you seen her curves? If I were the lucky guy, I'd do everything to show her who she belongs to." 

That fueled Snow with an intense anger, a boiling rage that churned within him. Fortunately, he managed to contain himself, sitting just far enough away to avoid you spotting him in the moment. However, his composure shattered when another voice crossed the line. "With that beautiful pair of lips, I bet she'd be a nice little whore and can take my big ass dick!" Laughter erupted, and though you were accustomed to such comments in the typically crowded environment, Snow, unable to restrain himself, swiftly delivered a punch to the man's face. Snow had completely lost his composure. As the scuffle continued, with the brawl escalating to a level one out of five, you were being escorted away. It was then that you noticed Snow's figure amidst the chaos.

"Coryo..." You murmured softly, as one of your colleagues attempted to escort you backstage. You complied with the act and tried to move, but upon catching his gaze after you called out his name, it took only seconds for Snow to be brought in, obliging even to be outside the hub before long. As he was pushed outside, one of the onlookers cursed under his breath. "Well, I'll be damned! If I see that guy again, he'll surely get a punch from me!" With his friends trying to calm the angered Peacekeeper down, he observed as you were escorted back, remarking, "I sense that someone had a little vulnerability over Cherry's presence."

Snow hadn't left entirely. In fact, he made sure to stay until the bar was ready to close. As he observed the group of Peacekeepers, memories of his own time in that role surfaced. They reminded him of the Peacekeepers in the Districts—little pieces of trouble, he'd openly declare if given the chance. Fortunately, you didn't have any bruises; in fact, you were so distraught that your colleague helped clean your makeup and took care of you. "My god, Y/N. What could've possibly happened there if you had intervened?" She questioned. Even you hated the fact that she was right; who knew what might have occurred if you had tried to break up the fight and ended up taking the punch meant for the Peacekeeper. You were well aware that Snow wouldn't easily excuse himself after this incident. 

By patiently waiting at the backdoor of the cabaret, he caught sight of another escort he had noticed earlier, who swiftly disappeared inside. He wasn't trespassing; rather, he was trying to reunite with you. Explanations could wait; for now, he wanted you all to himself, to taste your lips and be the one to incite jealousy among the Peacekeepers. Skillfully, he found his way backstage, drawing uncertain glances from ladies younger than you. They hesitated, contemplating whether to alert their boss about the intruder. It wasn't until he spotted you from a distance that even your colleague, who had taken care of you, noticed his presence enough to understand that it was her cue. “I’ll see you later, darlin’.” She said with her typical southern accent, and as soon as she was about to leave stop herself next to Snow. “Sir.” And bowed before leaving. 

On the other hand, you hastily adjusted your robe to cover your skin. Quickly, you applied the remaining red lipstick, swiftly cleaning the messy edges, assuming it was your boss's presence prompting the need for an explanation or reassurance that you were okay. However, as soon as you turned your head to see who it truly was, your eyes widened in shock. It felt almost too surreal, as if you had seen a ghost. "Coryo?" was all you could say. 

How he had missed you calling him by his nickname. Even though you had been in a relationship with Sejanus before, it was all thanks to being close to Tigris that you adopted the habit of using his nickname, something he cherished every time it left your lips. Particularly because none of his classmates, let alone his closest friends, used it. "What is this?" He questioned, his eyes scanning everything—from the booth to you, with a hint of disgust, shame. "Why didn't you tell me—" He felt a sense of sorrow, realizing he hadn't provided you with enough wealth, let alone a clean lifestyle. Tonight, he vowed to make a change soon. 

"Blame the Plinth." You uttered, attempting to push aside memories of Sejanus and your first love, concealing them as best as you could. Snow couldn't help but let out a light chuckle at the irony, recognizing that he, too, intended to make them pay for it all—every little bit. And in this endeavor, he envisioned you by his side. "I've missed you, you know." You continued, and to Snow's relief, he admitted the same. Perhaps, just maybe, a little too much.

"You have no idea how much I missed you too, sweetheart." He expressed, closing the distance between you. He kneeled, and even his piercing blue eyes softened as he lifted his gaze to meet yours. His finger gently traced your blushed cheek, the heavy makeup unable to conceal your undying beauty. "How about we go home? Together."

"Home?" You tilted your head slightly, doing your best to restrain your tears at his request. Despite the history of your relationship—from being a stranger to a friend and now a soulmate. "How—?" He nervously gulped, appearing confident in his words yet afraid to witness you in that emotional state. A state where money and selling your body didn't align with the image he wanted to see. "Because I'll do my best to take care of you." He assured, keeping his words simple yet sincere. 

"Home. A place to finally be yourself. No trouble, no feeling of doubt within your own self." And with that, you simply dissolved into tears, nodding in response to his confession. "Please," You begged, yearning for him, longing to feel his lips like you did with Sejanus back in the days. But this time, it felt genuinely true. Was this what true love really felt like? "Kiss me." There was no hesitation as Snow's lips instantly met yours in a hungry and passionate kiss, an expression of love since the very beginning. 

And in that very moment, Snow realized all too well that you had become his Lady. Not any kind of lady but the First Lady of Panem. 

Y/N, Snow.

[alleiwentcrazy]

Eddie hates it when people don’t answer his calls. He hates it with passion.

It reminds him of too many things. It reminds him of manhunts and abandoned sheds, and no one on the other side of the line. It reminds him of cold, clammy hands, of hunger, of fear. Breaking bones and eldritch horrors he’d thought existed solely in cheap movies, not in real life, until he was brutally made aware of the fact that when people say everything’s possible, everything is possible.

Every time someone doesn’t answer the phone when he calls, panic starts to boil inside his veins and his brain immediately makes at least a dozen painful scenarios for him to dwell on. He knows that technically, they just don’t know that it’s him. But it doesn’t make him worry any less, so everyone’s learned to respect the rule. They just have to pick up. No matter what. Or he’ll freak out, drop everything he’s doing and come unexpectedly to check if everything’s alright.

There hasn’t been a single situation when things were actually bad—people go get groceries, take solid, deep naps, or they’re simply too lazy to pick up sometimes—but he always does that. Always.

Especially if it’s Steve who doesn’t answer. What if he fell? Or someone mugged him? Or he got into a fight? This brain can’t take any more damage. What if he’s in the hospital now, waiting to be anesthetized before surgery, and no one’s called Eddie yet, because to society they’re just some dudes living together?

There are too many options. Eddie doesn’t like taking chances anymore, so he slaps the “I’ll be back in a few” sign on the door, closes the shop and speeds through the town like he has nothing to lose. (And it’s quite stupid, because he has too many things to lose now—but he’s allowed to freak out once in a while.)

When he gets there and sees Steve pacing and gesturing animatedly in front of the window of their tiny but awfully cluttered kitchen, he finds out exactly what it means to have the whole world on your shoulders. Or, rather, to be finally freed from the pressure it creates.

It’s okay. It’s just a stupid phone call. It wasn’t even important, anyway.

Despite that, he takes his helmet off. Won’t hurt to remind Steve of the rule. And maybe kiss his pretty face a little while he’s here.

He doesn’t even have to enter their apartment to know that Steve’s not alone. First off – if Steve’s pacing and rambling, an anxious trait he’s picked up from Robin, wasn’t a hint enough – it’s loud. Their paper walls can barely hold back a normal conversation, let alone something resemblant of a heated discussion. Honestly, Eddie has no idea how their neighbors can stand them sometimes, with his metal, their late-night conversations and non-conversations alike, with the kids visiting so often. Although Steve is optimistic (they have some lovely neighbors, like sweet Gran Fran, but don’t ever let Eddie express his opinions about that old hag from across the hallway, Miss Hermans), he’s still waiting for that complaint to be filed.

Second, he smells coffee. Steve never makes coffee for just himself.

Eddie opens the door gingerly, remembering how easy it is to completely unhinge them by accident, and is about to scream something about getting home, when none other than Dustin Henderson cuts him off with a shriek.

“—because it’s actually pathetic, that’s why! Get a grip, man, just do it!”

“Oh, it’s so easy for you to say, because you’ve never actually tried—”

“And maybe I never will! If you won’t do it, how can I learn how to do it myself? You know that you guys are the closest thing to father figures!”

“Hey, don’t make it about yourself for once, maybe? Some humility?”

Dustin’s quiet for a second, but Eddie knows he’s not about to admit full defeat. “Yes, sorry,” he chokes out, finally. “But you’ve tried so many times, you should know that it doesn’t get any easier on another try. Just do it, it doesn’t matter how.”

“It does, though! To me, it—it does. It matters,” Steve mumbles back, and Eddie can picture his face in perfect detail. It’s Steve’s small voice, which means he’s worried about something, even though his worry doesn’t make any sense in everyone else’s eyes. He’s unsure: his brows are pinched, lips pursed, stare skittering around the room, never focusing on anything. Dustin knows this face too, because his tone gets softer.

“Okay, then walk me through it.”

“What?”

“Walk me through it. You’ll know what you want, how you want it, when and where, and it’ll be easier when you try it next time.”

“Dustin, I really don’t—I’m not sure it can get easier, ever.”

“Because you’re scared.”

Steve sighs deeply before he responds. “Yes. Because I’m scared.”

“It’s been eight years, Steve. What are you scared of?” Dustin’s voice is gentle, curious. He’s not judging, he genuinely wants to know the reasons, and so does Eddie. He leans against the wall, trying to sneak a peek of the kitchen unsuccessfully, and listens. A while passes before Steve speaks again.

“I think—There are so many things I’m afraid of. But the main one… It’s still rejection. Not being enough. Because it’s not like it’s anything formal, right? It’s only a promise, and if it ends up turned down…”

Chair legs scrape the floor and Eddie can hear two soft slaps – hands on shoulders, probably.

“Steve Harrington. Calm down. You know it’s not going to happen—no, don’t argue. I know it, and this alone should be enough. You are an amazing person. You’re great with people, you’re bright, you’re sweet, caring, you have so many talents. I love you, Steve,” the pause that follows is filled with something so heavy there’s a shift in the air. It has a different smell now. A little salty, a little warm. “And he loves you. More than you can imagine, probably. So just pop the question, Steve. And don’t back out with some stupid excuse like this morning.”

“Pop the question,” Steve says, his voice firm, only a little timid. “Yes, I think—I think I can do that.”

Eddie bounces off the wall and takes quiet, slow steps backwards. He can’t hear anything else, even though the conversation continues. He bites his tongue hard enough to make it bleed a little. A coppery taste floods his mouth as he closes the door.

Oh, it’s just so, so stupid. He would have said yes. Each and every time, he would have said yes.

*

Later that day, when they’re lying in bed together, with the sheets rumpled, their bodies warm and mushy from the nap, with Eddie’s lips on Steve’s and Steve’s hands in Eddie’s hair, Eddie remembers the overheard conversation.

Well, no. That’s a lie. Because he hasn’t stopped thinking about it ever since.

Every single second of what, at first, seemed to be yet another annoying Monday, has been filled with reverie and anticipation. Dustin’s right – Eddie loves Steve. He loves him enough to risk hell for him, enough to argue with anyone who’s in any way mean to him. Enough to take his hand and say “You don’t have to be afraid when I’m with you”, even though Eddie’s the biggest coward in the whole wide world.

Eddie loves him. Loves his goofy smiles and scrunched happy faces, loves his moles and the uneven mustache he grows out sometimes when he’s bored. Eddie loves how gentle Steve is, how thoughtful and kind-hearted he is. How he helps Gran Fran replant her flowers each month with more enthusiasm than Eddie’s ever shown to anyone. How he talks to children, how much respect he has for those undermined by everyone else.

Eddie loves how he’s learned to stand up for himself. He’s proud of Steve, of how much he’s grown, of how he knows how to express what he needs and what he wants now. Eddie’s loved him for ages, maybe even longer than he’s aware of, but every single significant and insignificant change in Steve’s behavior and point of view makes him fall a little bit harder, every time. In any shape, in any form, there’s one constant in Eddie’s life: his love for Steve.

He likes to think that they do that to each other, both of them. That they help each other through inevitable changes, painful regressions and euphoric victories alike. He likes to think that together, they make one, healthy, living being – and apart they’re good, because they’ve grown to be good people thanks to the connections they’ve made overall. He likes this idea of just being good, together and apart. And he loves Steve for giving him the opportunity to be just that.

Eddie wants it to last. Desperately, intensely, madly. He wants it to last and he needs it to keep happening – he knows that, and he knows he has the capacity to do that. To be there, to stay. His hands touch Steve’s thigh, not in the slightest covered by those silly Hawkins Tigers shorts he’s kept, then they touch Steve’s soft, scarred belly, then they touch his chest, where his heart is beating steadily and peacefully, and he keeps kissing him and Steve keeps clingling back to him, and Eddie’s so sure.

He wants this. He wants to experience growing old together, he wants them to get all wrinkly and bald together, he wants the fights over who gets the most comfortable chair in their grandkids’ living room. He wants them to experience the highs and the lows of the family that they already have, and the one they’re going to build someday.

Eddie wants this. He wants Steve. The whole deal; the promised forever. And he doesn’t want to wait another second.

“Steve,” Eddie says, cutting the kiss short so suddenly Steve actually pulls him closer, chasing after the warmth of his lips. “I’m saying yes.”

“Mm. Okay,” he mumbles back, too kiss- and sleep-hazy to catch Eddie’s intention right away. He tries to bump their noses together—which is adorable, really, but Eddie can’t let him hijack and self-sabotage this proposal too.

“No, Steve,” he squeezes Steve’s side until he looks at him properly. “I love you. I’m saying yes.”

In awe, Eddie watches as Steve’s face goes through confusion, true bewilderment, a bit of fear and fleeting exhilaration, to finally settle on disbelief.

“How did you—”

Eddie laughs a little at that. “I called and you didn’t pick up.” Steve makes a little oh sound, already looking like a kicked puppy. “But it’s okay, doesn’t matter, not the point,” Eddie jumps in, anticipating an unnecessary apology. “The point is, I love you, and I’m saying yes.”

Steve stares at him for a long second, his eyes wide and earnest. His fingers slide from Eddie’s hair to finally settle on both of his cheeks, cradling them lovingly. Eddie kinda wants to cry.

“You’ll marry me?” Steve asks, incredulous, his voice only a bit louder than a whisper. The way he accentuates the word “marry” gives yet another layer of meaning to such a simple question. You’ll love me? Forever?

“I’ll marry you,” he replies without hesitation. “You’ll marry me?” You’ll love me? With my flaws?

“I’ll marry you,” Steve says back. Then he grins with his eyes glistening in the bedside light, and squishes Eddie’s cheeks so hard it squeezes the unshed tear right from his eye. “We’ll get married!”

Steve giggles happily, and Eddie laughs with him. There’s so much joy inside him—them, the whole room seems to get bigger. “We will,” he adds through a smile, already peppering his fiancé’s face with kisses.

“Oh gosh, I have to call Robin,” Steve manages through his giggles and Eddie loves him so much. “And Dustin!”

So, so much.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

Ectoberhaunt 2023. Day 5. Hunt and Haunt.

~Well, here we go again, good old Ghost Hunger AU~

Description: The Ghost Zone is inherently a violent place. You can hunt or be hunted, there is no other options. However, for some reason the Halfa does not understand what is happening. And no one rushes to explain it. NB! ghost cannibalism is mentioned.

Prompt after memes

Suppose there’s a conventional division among ghosts. Some of them are potential predators capable of hunting their own kind, while others are only able to absorb the surrounding energy and therefore build up power more slowly than hunters.

So, predation is used as a method of survival in poor ectoplasm areas of the Ghost Zone, less often as a means of gaining power. Even less often hunters are created.

It is obvious that the appearance of a hunter who is the son of human ghost hunters in a haunting place without stable sources of ectolasm has caused panic in the society of the dead ones. For the newly formed ghost to have ectoblasts, fangs or ghost sense is a rarity and great luck. So the newcomer had everything and more to be a serious threat. An awful danger for the surrounding spirits…Right?

But Danny doesn’t know the specifics of his new biology ectology!

Even though he’s a hunter, he’s never had a ghost hunger. Probably because thanks to his parents he has an amazing ectoplasm concentrator in the basement. Soon everyone understands that the boy does not attack first. Those who return through the portal never report any losses at all. He does not bite or attempt to capture cores of other spirits. At first, the ghosts think it's a trap. Smart enough for a beginner. Not everyone has the tenacity to pretend to be an idiot to get close to them. But the Phantom never feeds on them. He’s…safe?

What’s more, Danny seems to think they’re a threat to the city. Which is fun and weird. Normally, there is no competition for feeding using human emotion. But the owner of the lair did not like the smell of fear in the air. Is this ghost broken?

When the ghosts who visit Amity realize that the halfa does not know that he can hunt them, rather than just guard his territory...Well, it explains a lot. Everyone agrees not to explain the situation to the boy so that the city behind the portal remains a relatively safe haven during the during a "hunting season" and other troubles in the Infinite Realms.

~~~~~

The problem arises when Phantom begins exploring the Ghost Zone. What if the other hunters make the boy stop being a freak?

In addition, more experienced ghosts may well attack the careless halfa. And Amity Park under the control of a more predatory spirit would be a terrible outcome. Most dead ones near the portal are used to the fact that the area before Wisconsin is open to travel and migration without the threat of being eaten.

All rational ghosts try to avoid the territory of hunters. If you can’t defend yourself, there’s too much risk of being a free meal. It’s much safer to settle down with spirits with similar energy levels at door clusters. If the hunter does not purposefully show up at your lair, you will have a much better chance of keeping the afterlife.

Those of the Ancients who have won their position and those of them who were created for it have become accustomed to isolation. Although all the Ancients have lost the need to eat 'cause they have absorbed enough energy, legends about their past are still be nightmares for all spirits. Just because they don’t need to eat other ones doesn’t mean they won’t. It is clear that a weaker hunter can also be hunted. No reason to risk.

Therefore, how freely and fearlessly Phantom communicates with Frostbite, Clockwork or Pandora is puzzling. Does he feel threatened at all? The Ancients find this experience refreshing. Lil communication without fear makes them feel sympathy for this youngling. Danny is always glad of their company. And the boy is not afraid to express his opinion. It is strange but...pleasant?

Their minions from time to time complain that they teach a potential enemy but it is very difficult to see a possible rival in Phantom. Danny is always in trouble. The youngster is silly and careless. Like a wet kitten that can’t even make a threatening hiss. So Ancients, to their own surprise, don't mind helping him. Why isn’t his naivety annoying?

For example, Frostbite’s trying to teach Danny hunting and tracking techniques because he thinks the little cub doesn’t know how to be what he supposed to be. Meanwhile Danny sees his attempts as a course of self-defense that he can use against ghosts who try to infiltrate his city.

~~~~~Bonus~~~~~

Some insufficiently powerful ghosts mimic predators to scare away dangerous spirits and protect themselves. Skulker is quite pleased that he managed to deceive halfa:

[faustery]

I still think about that post that was like, “dark souls is for horny freaks” thing and I started creating a mental list of other things that are for horny freaks.

Starting at beginner levels, we have Chainsaw Man. You’re a little bit of a Horny Freak for liking it.

Then there is Limbus Company, that’s def for Horny Freaks. Like character design and such isn’t horny anime shit but then…. Pink shoes… I stand my case, it’s for Horny Freaks

Then we have all the SoulsBorne shit. Dark Souls, Bloodborne, Elden Ring, absolutely for horny freaks. You wouldn’t guess it at first glance cause like cool armor and shit but the monster designs????? Freaks. For the horniest of freaks.

It goes further though

Fear and Hunger….. need I say more? Probably-

Anyways if you like any of these things you are a certified Horny Freak™️

[sunlightmurdock]

My Future in You | 2.3 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, enemies to lovers kinda thing, mentions of pregnancy / birth complications, mentions of not eating frequently, lack of hunger

…

The drive home in silence just gives Bradley’s anger time to multiply, growing until he’s so restless that his car door is open before the engine is even off. He slams it behind him, knuckles white around the strap of his bag as he walks around to the front door. That slams too.

It startles you, making you flinch and almost drop the mug in your hand. The now lukewarm coffee that you’ve been trying to sip at for an hour spills down onto the white of your sweater. It’s just a small mark, easy enough to ignore.

His brows knit together slightly as he catches sight of your face from the other end of your open living space. The whole way here, it had felt like he practically had steam coming out of his ears. His palms are still reddish and warm from how tightly he was grabbing the wheel. But, he sees it in the way you’re looking at him and knows that his thing — all of the anger, resentment, blinding rage that Mav brings up in him — it doesn’t matter.

Immediately, he lets his bag, and everything that seeing Mav had just stirred up within him, go.

“What’s wrong?” He’s already rushing forwards, heading for you.

You had promised yourself that you wouldn’t do this and that you wouldn’t freak him out by crying. It just happens. A soft, heartbroken squeak as he reaches you and you throw yourself against his chest.

“Did something happen at the appointment?” He breathes out, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing.

“It’s — it’s not that bad, but he…” You have to pull back and force yourself to breathe to even attempt at the words. “He’s smaller than he should be, and the doctor gave me this pamphlet, and I’ve just been freaking out all day.”

Bradley secures you against him with one arm and turns his attention to the little orange leaflet on the counter with a smiling baby girl with glasses on the front of it. He presses his lips softly to the top of your head. With his free hand, he cautiously opens up the front page.

Your hands curl into the fabric of his khakis, breathing him in, pulling him closer to you. It takes him a few moments, to read what it says and to process it. He never once lets you go.

Just giving a small shake of his head, he exhales and squeezes you closer. “Okay. What did the doctor say we need to do?”

“I need to go for a blood test on Friday and another ultrasound on Tuesday. She said that I should be eating healthy, and more frequently, um — eight hours of sleep, rest. If it’s fetal growth restriction then he could have issues during birth or even after.”

Bradley cups your face in his hands and nods slowly. You can feel his heartbeat in his chest and it just doesn’t make sense that he’s able to appear so calm when you know that he isn’t.

“Okay,” He nods, his voice low. “Alright. When was the last time you ate?”

“I had a sandwich for lunch but I just don’t feel hungry, I’ve been crying all day.” You mumble out as he presses closer to you, smoothing a large palm down your back. You nuzzle your cheek against his shirt, exhaling slowly.

Both of you stand in the kitchen, holding each other close, shit scared of what this means. This future that you have committed absolutely everything to, this little thing that you’re so ready to love, and the fear that there could be absolutely no way of protecting it.

Bradley closes his eyes and turns his face towards yours, hugging you closer. His memories of his dad are fuzzy. His memories of his mother back then are fuzzy too. He doesn’t remember her crying much. He remembers them laughing a lot. Standing here, he wishes he had at least one clear memory left — just so that he’d know what to do now.

Most people probably get to share these worries with their parents, to ask them these questions. You’ve just got each other.

He doesn’t know what to do. The silence is setting in and the orange on that pamphlet feels like it’s becoming more obnoxious by the second.

“Well, I’ll cook tonight, and I’ll be really offended if you don’t finish what I make you.” It’s half playful, he presses his lips to your cheek and pulls back to look at you, fingers trembling against your sides, “It’s just been a stressful couple of months, you just need to relax these last few weeks. ‘M gonna take care of you.”

Crowded against the kitchen counter, you take a few seconds to just be held by him, tucking yourself back in against his chest.

You imagine your mother, probably staring at those six missed calls and feeling smug with herself — knowing that you’d have come crawling back for help eventually. You’re an idiot for thinking that she would’ve been able to help. You tug Bradley closer and press your face into his shoulder. Maybe she’s not really doing that. Maybe she’s sitting there and wondering if she should call you back. Either way, it doesn’t matter.

Everything you’ve given up and gone through, this new family that you’ve scraped together, it’s all that you need.

“You wanna come to the store with me or you wanna take a nap?” Bradley asks you, smoothing his hands down along your middle.

Your answer is immediate, filling the air before silence has a chance to set in.

“I don’t want to be on my own.” You admit, exhaling softly into the warmth of his chest. Bradley nods and kisses your temple. He keeps it to himself that he’s pleased with your answer. After the mood he was in and the day that you’ve had, he just wants you where he can see you.

So, the two of you take your car. It’s easier to get into than trying to haul yourself up into the bronco these days. It’s more of a family car. It’s crazy, actually, how much you’re starting to look like a family. Him, in his uniform and an arm draped around you, your hand resting on your swollen stomach.

He drives with his hand on your thigh, your arm looped through his. Then, once you’re in the store, he pushes the cart with you at his side.

“I could ask you what you want, or I could surprise you. What are you two in the mood for?” Bradley asks, leaning down to kiss the top of your head as you hug his arm.

“I’m not hungry, I don’t know.” You shake your head softly.

“Surprise it is.” Bradley decides, taking his arm out from the loop you’re holding it in and draping it around your shoulders instead. He pulls you in against his side and presses his palm over both of your eyes, covering your vision with a sudden darkness.

“Bradley, I’m seriously going to fall break my face!” You gasp, grabbing at his hand. You don’t even notice it. He beams with pride as you smile, finally.

He nudges you in front of him, between him and the cart, laughing softly as he guides you forwards, blind. “Have a little faith in me, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. Just can’t risk you seeing my ingredients and ruining my surprise.”

“You’re an idiot,” You giggle, grabbing tightly onto the cart to steady yourself. He grins, kissing your cheek. “I’m so scared right now.”

“Scared? — C’mon, Mama, you’ve gotta start trusting me. I’ve got you.” Bradley teases, pressing his mouth to you jaw, pressing his chest into your back and making your laugh harder. He slows you, then stops. “Stay there, I’m grabbing something. Don’t open your eyes.”

Your heart flutters as his hands briefly leave you. There’s a chill in the supermarket without his body crowding around you to keep you warm. He’s back quickly anyway, something clatters into the cart.

“What a beautiful family you are!” The voice is soft, pleasant sounding. An older lady. You peek one eye open and find her beaming at you from a few feet away.

“Thank you.” Bradley answers, surging with pride as he puts a polite amount of space between you and him, still close enough to keep you bracketed between him and the cart.

“You’ll do just fine, making each other laugh like that,” Her eyes as crinkling at the corners, a smile spreading across her aged face. She looks fondly between the two of you, then nods. “Congratulations on the little one. How lovely. Your first?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Bradley answers. You almost sigh in relief that he’s not choosing now to try to make funny jokes.

“How lucky they will be, to have parents so in love.” She smiles. Bradley’s hand covers yours over the top of the cart, knitting his fingers through yours. Neither one of you says a word, at first. You’ve not said that yet. Technically, you’ve only been together for a few weeks. “You two have a lovely day.”

“You too, thank you.” Bradley remains polite, smiling at her softly. She looks the two of you over, fondly, almost reminiscent, and then she walks away.

Bradley catches you off guard, tearing you back away from your own thoughts as he covers your eyes once more. His lips press to your earlobe as he growls playfully, “You better not have checked out my ingredients, Seresin.”

“You’re paranoid.” You tell him, blinded under his palm, grinning dumbly as you let him guide you forwards again.

He hums playfully, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck, “Mm, I just know what Seresins are like.”

“Your baby’s going to be one,” You point out. He chuckled behind you. “You’re gonna be outnumbered.”

He uses his hold on your face to turn your head, leaning over your shoulder and kissing your lips. “Can’t wait.”

So, like the love-sick fool that you are, you let him lead you blindly around the grocery store, whispering jokes into your ear and planting playful kisses onto your neck. Your heart’s swollen and you’re so confused about how it could ever have been hurt by this same person.

Finally, after making you promise not to look several times, he uncovers your eyes and hands you the keys. Your feet are sore and there’s no point waiting in the checkout line with him. He watches you waddle out of the store with a dumb grin on his face.

It makes him want to grin as big as he can, watching the changes that come with your pregnancy. Not being able to tie your shoe laces anymore, knocking things off of the bathroom counter with your belly — waddling is a new one. It’s a special type of adorable, he’s certain that he’ll never grow tired of seeing it.

Loading your items onto the checkout, he pulls his phone from his pocket and waits, unaware of the eyes on him.

It was made abundantly clear earlier, that Bradley had no desire to speak to Maverick. He had turned, looked, and swiftly walked away. That familiar red flush covering his face and neck. He’s had that since he was in diapers, blushing a deep shade of pink whenever he was upset about something.

But now, for Maverick to be standing in a grocery store, staring at the kid that he hasn’t seen in almost two years, for the second time in the same day — it feels like fate.

He drops his items down onto a random shelf and silently walks towards the checkout as Bradley loads his groceries back into the cart.

“Bradley?”

Bradley looks up, finding Pete staring at him again. His face goes blank, and he straightens up like a cat raising its heckles. Pete doesn’t move. Bradley turns swiftly and walks out of the store without a word.

You get out of the car as you see him coming, your smile fading slightly as you notice the look on his face. That hardened, terracotta flushed look.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, let’s just go home.” Bradley practically tears open the trunk. Your brows draw together as you watch him load the groceries into it.

There’s a feeling, something in your peripheral that makes you turn your head. There’s a man standing by the edge of the parking lot, the colour drained from his face, staring right at you.

Pete’s head spins, heat flooding his nerves.

Looking at Bradley already feels like he’s got to be eye-to-eye with a ghost. Now, he’s standing there and suddenly it’s the summer of 1984, and his best friend’s about to have a kid. The picture’s fuzzy now, as it sits in Pete’s wallet, but it’s clear as day in his mind. Goose and Carole on the end of the Santa Monica boardwalk. She’s so pregnant that she could barely walk, but she was beaming — she had demanded to go to the beach that day.

He studies the crystal clear image before him now. Bradley in his khakis from work. The pregnant girl who’s smile has just faded, staring back at him.

Bradley takes one look at your face and then turns, following your gaze.

“Do you know that guy?” You ask gently, glancing up at Bradley.

“Wait in the car for me.” He answers you, slamming the trunk shut and turning. His pace is purposeful, storming across the parking lot until he’s almost nose-to-nose with Pete.

“What do you want?” Bradley spits.

“You… You’re having a kid?” Pete breathes out, confused, shaking his head. The reality of it hasn’t quite set in yet.

“I said: what do you want?” The same angry kid as he knew before stands in front of him again. Pete shakes his head again.

“You’re not ready to be a parent.”

“Just like I wasn’t ready to be a pilot?” Bradley answers back. You watch from beside the car as he steps closer to the older man, squaring his shoulders like he’s about to hit him.

“Think about your future! I mean — have you even thought this throu—“

“Don’t talk to me about my future after what you did.” He barks, loud enough for you to hear finally, eyes ablaze, shoulders squared. Maverick always forgets how much Bradley has grown. He looks up slightly as Bradley walks closer to him.

Maverick looks now to you, with one hand on your stomach and a confused look on your face.

“This isn’t what I wanted for you.” Maverick admits quietly. He’s not sure what makes him say it, it’s already too late, you look pretty far along. But, he says it anyway. When it comes to Bradley, there’s this intense need to do the right thing that usually propels him into doing the wrong thing.

“I didn’t mean — I shouldn’t have —“ Maverick stutters, shaking his head. It always ends like this. He always does the wrong thing. He sees the worry in your eyes. He always upsets Bradley without meaning to. “I’m sorry. Can we talk about this?”

“I don’t give a shit what you want, Mav,” Bradley shakes his head, disbelief. He stops walking finally and points a finger into Pete’s chest, deadly serious — less emotional than last time. “Stay the fuck away from me, stay the fuck away from my family.”

Blue eyes widened, serious, Maverick stares back at the boy before him. Bradley’s always had a temper, that’s nothing new. The sincerity in his tone is. He’s serious about you, it seems.

“Bradley?”

Both of them turn their heads to look at you at the same time. You swallow. His mouth sets into a hard line and it almost makes you wince. You’ve seen this before; it almost always winds up with you getting hurt.

It’s growing colder now that the sun has set. After the day you’ve had, you miss the days when you could take a hot bath. Going home and crawling under your covers would be enough at this point.

“I’m serious,” Bradley says slowly, giving his uncle a quick once over, and then taking a step back with a shake of his head. “You will never be family to me. Leave me alone.”

Without giving the man who had raised him time to argue, Bradley turns and walks back to the car, grinding his jaw.

“Who was that?” You frown.

“Come on,” Bradley sighs, shaking his head as he tugs open the passenger side door and motions for you to get in. “I’ll tell you later. I just want to go.”

You’ve seen Bradley angry — you’ve seen him being an asshole just for the sake of it. This isn’t that. You’ve never seen him rattled like this. So, you get in the car and you let him take you home, pretending not to see the way that the dark haired man watches you car pull out of the lot.

You let him cook for you and tell you about his week. You eat everything he makes you and he grins, proud of himself. After that, he insists that you spend the rest of the evening in bed. So, you do.

You spend it laying sideways with your head resting on his stomach and your legs dangling over the edge, his fingers toying with stands of your hair.

“So, who was that guy?” You ask finally.

And so, he tells you about Pete Mitchell for the first time. The man who raised him. Uncle Pete who let him stay up late and eat pizza, who came over on the days that Bradley’s mom just couldn’t stop crying. Uncle Pete who sometimes forgot that he promised to come to baseball games or pissed off an admiral and wound up in the middle of the ocean for a couple of months, so couldn’t come to that birthday party anymore.

The let downs and the wonderful memories weigh each other out. For every upside, there’s a downside with Maverick. And then it gets to Bradley’s senior year of high school, when Mav betrayed him. They hadn’t spoken since, other than at Carole’s funeral, briefly. That had gone worse than today had.

You squeeze his hand softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Bradley says quietly. He smooths his hand down across my stomach. “I’m sorry that I did that in front of you. I’ve been trying to—“

You turn your head, pressing your lips gently to his knuckles. “I know.”

He exhales slowly. You know exactly how hard he had been trying for you.

“I love you.” You decide finally, leaning your head back so that you can look at him. Bradley raises his eyebrows. He’s had a couple of girls say it to him before, he’s never felt inclined to say it back. He would’ve never told them about Maverick, about his mother. He wouldn’t have ever been lying here with them, like this.

“I love you too.” He takes his hand away from your hair and strokes it along your jaw instead. You push yourself up, turning slowly towards him, kissing his lips chastely.

“We’re going to be alright. Right?” You ask quietly, resting your hand against his bare chest. His eyes soften just slightly as he gives you a calm nod.

…

@chaoticweirdogeek @alanadetigy @itsmytimetoodream @oldnatgwenaccount @khaylin27 @bioodforbiood @luckyladycreator2 @mizzzpink @cherrycola27 @unordinare @shanimallina87 @marvel-f1-and-more @heli991113 @pauv-0414 @ghxst-heart @momc95 @asteria33 @lilyevanswhore @diamond-3 @galaxy-moon @jostyriggslover96 @forgiveliv @shawnsblue @little-wiseone @lovemesomevesey @alm334 @averyhotchner @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @littlemissobsessedwitholdermen @sunflowerziva @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @bradshawseresinbabe @damrlovq @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @slutfordw

[illya-roma]

Dp x dc promt

The clattering of glass rang in his ears once more after Bruce Wayne made another toast for increasing funds for another charity event. It was fun really, Clark doesn't get enough chances to tease his friends without being interrupted by the villian of the weak.

He chuckles as Bruce fails at slipping another flirting remark to the tall and muscler "power couple" (look at him using slang) sandwiching him. Clark knows that if Diana found out she'll try to rope him into doing the same to Bruce.

He looks over the different plates to feast on while tuning in to Bruce's ever increasing heart beat knowing that he'll have something to hold over him.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba?

Ba,dum pur dum ba,puuuurrrr, bababa-dum-ba dum-ba, ......, ba-dam

What the?

Wait, is there an-

BA-DUNDUM, DUAM, .....,BA-DUM

It's getting closer. But who, why are they here? Should he make Bruce aware of, something pulls on his pants.

He looks down, the heart beat pinpointed to a child.

The hairs on his nape stand.

Blood drips all over their face, blue eyes overlaping and changing to something. Slit pupils overlapping with round ones.

"Kal-el?"

His heart falls.

The child smiles, sharp fangs glittering.

"You're afraid of hurting your friend's, human and not, aren't you?"

He goes to speak, only for his voice to vanish.

His mouth is moving, his voice sings in his ears.

But he's not voluntary moving.

He's not, he's not in-

"You're stuck fearing for the worst whenever you're not in control. I understand. Won't you tell me more?"

He tries to listen to Bruce's heart beat but his owns deafening him.

"You don't feel like you fit in, too far from your birth planet, too close to the strength that it destroyed it."

He needs to move, he can't, don't think of anyone , don't think of anythin- focus on moving.

"Why don't you talk more? You'll feel a lot better if you do. They , Kents, your favorite lady reporter, Bruce, your coworkers, all would tell you they're proud of you."

His head snaps to the right and there are no suits or dresses or rich people in sight. The metal chair creaks under him as he realises that his head in his hands. He feels the wetness on his cheeks.

He hears the chatter of teenagers around him.

The blood red hair flows-no it covers the table, branching yet not tangling with every flickers that he swears, he swears , is moving.

That his eyes aren't lying when the shadows don't match the girl.

He's in a restaurant. Her eyes glow with hunger and satisfaction.

"You've been so strong for so long, it's time for you to break down. And rest."

His shoulders falls, his body sags with relief as his mind fills with nothing but bliss. He feels lighter. Weight lifted off his shoulders.

His eyes open, the covers fall of his body.

He hears weeping.

The light barely flows in underneath the door.

He open it.

Bruce is holding onto his family on the floor.

The weeping is louder, Bruce is holding a hand out, beckoning him to join them.

They're missing four months from their memories.

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

We don't talk enough about cryptic jazz.

We don't hear much about her being bullied when she was the Fenton freak, maybe there was a reason not to.

@stealingyourbones @phantom00maverick

@jackpoompkin

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hello 👋 I just wanted to ask if it's ok to request and if it is can I ask for an alpha Jason Todd x Omega chubby female reader smut plz. Also I really enjoyed your Mando and Logan story they were really good.

A World of Colours

Alpha!Jason Todd x omega!reader

Jason thought all the good had been drained from the world, but he has been wrong before

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (reader is on bc), Jason has a slight fear of pregnancy, pull-out method

WC: 1k

Minors DNI

When Jason came back from the dead, he thought that everything good in the world died along with him. Everything was bleak and stuck in an eternal grey, the colour drained from his life. He spent his days training, getting bigger and stronger, determined to never be caught off guard again, even by his own family.

He was distrusting, brutish, violent and a borderline feral alpha. Even his own father was terrified of him (not that he would admit it).

So it was quite the shock when, on a surprise visit to his apartment that totally wasn’t to make sure that Jason was still alive, Dick found the place spotless and with the distinctive scent of an omega soaked into every inch of the small studio.

And even more shocking was his little brother standing in the small kitchenette fucking crooning to the plump woman sitting on the counter as he cooked her breakfast. “Did I have a stroke? Am I stroking out? Does anyone smell toast?” Jason rolled his eyes at his older brother and stepped forward as if to shield you.

“Of course you smell toast Dickhead, I’m making some.” Your laugh carried through through the small space like the ringing of bells and Dick watched as Jason’s posture relaxed and his scent became sweet with absolute love. 

It was then that Dick noticed both their states of undress (him being just in boxers and her in a shirt that must have been his) and the potent smell of sex. “I think I’m just gonna go.” He started backing out of the room.

“Yeah how about you do that?” You slapped Jason’s shoulder and hissed a “be nice”. Still thoroughly freaked out, Dick increased his pace. 

“Just uh, just remember that B wants everyone at dinner this Friday. Bring your girl.” He slammed the front door behind him, fully convinced he was having a very strange dream.

You watched the entryway for a moment before you were distracted by a soft brush of lips against your neck. “Jay.” A moan slipped from you involuntarily as Jason’s huge hands traveled from laying on the countertop to cupping your wide hips, squeezing the already bruised skin. 

“Yes princess?” He mouthed at your sensitive mating gland, applied just enough pressure to the raised skin to make your back arch forward with arousal.

“We just had sex ten minutes ago. Haven’t you had enough?” Offended, he pulled away for just a moment to look into your eyes.

“I could never have enough of you, and right now princess, I’m feeling very greedy.” You yelped when suddenly your ass was hanging off the edge of the counter after Jason tugged you forward. There was a dull thud that you knew was the sound of his boxers hitting the old kitchen tile. 

The musky smell of tobacco and hot chocolate filled the air as Jason’s eyes got darker with desire and you felt his hard cock against the soft skin of your plump thighs. He was already throbbing, with beads of pre-cum bathing on the uncut head. Slick pooled between your legs in response, your omega perfectly happy at the progress of this morning so far.

Reaching between you, you grasped him tightly and guided him to your entrance. “Go on then, alpha. Sate your hunger.”  His massive paws skirted down your body to settle on the small of your back. The tip of his nose brushed against yours in a loving manner.

“Yes, omega.” He answered dutifully and then slammed forward. 

“Alpha!” You mewled. Pleasure shot through you with each roll of his hips. “Feel s’good.” The counter dug into your hips as he thrust into you. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” Even though your love had fucked you mere minutes before, your pussy still burned with the stretch of his cock. The thick ring of muscle of his knot pressed tingly to your already stuffed hole whenever the head of his cock bashed against your cervix.

As you wrapped yourself around him, Jason buried his face into your neck. He covered his teeth with his lips so he could bite down on the spot that would bind you to him forever without actually leaving his mark. But it resulted in the same outcome: your body jerked forward and forced his growing knot inside of you.

“Fuck princess.” He growled against your heated skin. “Gonna make me cum already like some fucking teenager.” Your nails dug into his muscular back as your orgasm grew and grew, spurred on by the way the tick patch of hair at the base of his pelvis hit your clit with every thrust.

“‘M close.” You gasped between desperate moans. Jason groaned into your ear as his muscles tightened with his own end.

“Go on, cum for me. Cum for your alpha and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Yes yes yes!” You clamped down onto him as ecstasy washed over you in a huge wave of pleasure. Your vision whited out but he continued to thrust, needing his release.

“Fuuuuuck!” Ripping himself away from you, he pulled out of your warmth just in time to spill his hot cum onto your plush belly. “Holy shit.” 

The massive man slumped into your arms, all the energy suddenly leaving his body. You just chuckled and ran your fingers through his dark hair. “I thought you were gonna make me your twinkie.” You joked, laying a kiss to his head.

He chuckled into your throat, giving you a playful nip. “Couldn’t remember if you took your birth control this morning. Didn’t want to risk it.” Gently cupping his cheek, you guided him up to meet your eyes.

“Jay,” You cooed while debating on bringing up the subject but then quickly decided against it, “Will you at least finish making me breakfast? I’m absolutely starving.” He kissed your cheek. 

“Stay right there princess, I’ll take care of you.” 

The world used to be black and white to the feared vigilante but with you, it was a world full of colours and he wanted to share it with you.

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[murmiss]

Headcanons about Yandere Simulator!COD.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Warning: mention of suicide, mention of alcohol, drugs, mental problems, possibly traumatic moments, etc. My personal vision of the character. OOC?

I think he's perfect for the role of Yandere.

His childhood was disgustingly shitty, and you can't blame him for that.

Born into a dysfunctional family, Simon was doomed to a hard life from childhood. His father was a drunk, a bloody alcoholic who prided himself on being able to drink for weeks and stay on his feet. A dirty man, with filthy and sadistic tendencies taken out on those closest to him. A freak who broke everyone he knew, trampling on his own son, turning the poor child into an unwilling broken doll.

Simon remembered those lonely nights in the old shed next to the house, cluttered with trash and rusty tools, like it was yesterday. The cold wind blew through the cracks between the boards, leaving goosebumps on Simon's skin and forcing him to pull his legs tighter together, curling up in a ball to keep warm. A night in the old barn was Mr. Riley's favorite punishment, a man crashing home after another rave binge to find out his son had gotten an F in school? Late for first period? Or maybe spent his pocket money on some silly comic book? - no matter what, Simon will fly instantly to the Locked Shed. No matter what happened, Simon was always drawn to his older brother, who, unfortunately, wasn't as good as his younger brother would have liked. Tommy was a jerk, that bad boy in high school who publicly cursed the teacher, broke the toilet faucet, and did stupid things. But the dumbest thing in Tommy's life was drugs - this jerk decided to prove once again to everyone that he was cool, not realizing that very soon this addiction would consume him, like everyone else who once got addicted. And Simon hovered between two fires, like a child dreaming of a normal family, like a son who had never seen his father smile and never heard praise. And the mother? Mrs. Riley-a dandelion of God, withering rapidly in her husband's dirty hands. She was a beautiful woman, the only person in that family who cared about Simon, and he loved her immensely, and still does. Mrs. Riley died when Simon was 14. It was a cold Sunday morning when a loud gunshot rang out, waking Simon from his sleep. Feeling an animal fear, he rushed to the sound, recognizing a sight that forever shattered his poor mind. On September 6, Mrs. Riley shot herself in the temple.Haunted by her husband's nightmares and torture, she couldn't take any more of this abusive behavior, couldn't watch her firstborn wither under drugs, couldn't see Simon hurt.But her act didn't make it better, hell, that kind of thing never makes anything better. After that day, Simon withdrew more than ever. Hitting his father was nothing, hunger was nothing, being forced to kiss a poisonous snake was a challenge.

Simon grew up, and with it grew his hatred and repressed aggression towards his father.One day in a club Simon watched his father attack a poor girl. She simply refused to spend the night with him and the drunkard, not confused, began to beat her as if he were a wrestler in the ring Simon could not do anything, just as he could not save his mother, stop his father's beatings or convince Tommy that drugs are evil. And he didn't understand why his father wasn't in jail. They'd find the girl, but when they did, no one would really care what happened. The freak always gets away with it.

After the death of his mother, Simon was forced to work part-time at the local machine shop. Old man Carson was happy to help the neighbor boy, so he took him into his shop as an assistant without any questions or demands. Yes, and Simon was a handy and understanding guy.

Simon started out washing cars, and after working like that for half a year, he was promoted to Carson's apprentice: the old man explained and taught the boy mechanics, letting him stay up late reading books about cars.

The old man was able to replace Simon's father, teaching the teenager simple things necessary for basic survival. For example, Simon, at 16, learned how to fix some appliances and how to use tools. But Mrs. Carson had already taught Simon cooking, laundry, and household chores, and he, as a bright boy, grasped everything on the fly. Simon noticed Mr. and Mrs. Carson had a son, which they never had, for unfortunately Paula Carson was barren.

Simon lived as a two-family household, mostly spending his days at his mentor's house, but when his father began to rage and throw himself at the neighbor's door, Simon would return, falling asleep again in his little room.

The work in the workshop brought quite a good income and Simon, having entered the desired college, was even able to rent a small apartment on the outskirts of the city, and finally moved out of his home, so as not to see this den, and not to put, in Simon's opinion, the family of his mentor in danger.

The old man Carson told him fatherly: "Simon, you'll be happy when you find love. Simon thought so, but he couldn't imagine what that love looked like. He couldn't believe it would happen someday, not just pass him by like it always did.

But one day that day has come. First day of college, Simon is walking toward the auditorium when a stranger suddenly sweeps him off his feet like a small tornado. It was just a moment when he looked into your eyes-- He felt like he was going to drown in them. The way your eyelashes fluttered as you stood there, rubbing your forehead after the blow and babbling something, was in his head. From that day on, he couldn't imagine his life if you weren't there for him.

"Finally, I'll be happy."

But is this how it's going to be? Simon can't contain his anger at seeing you talking sweetly to some cocky kid in the back of the class. And the voice in Simon's head whispered sweetly: "eliminate."

[lesbianoms]

Hhh I love preds that tease their meals

That love em to death and would never actually want them to suffer, but still enjoy the rush of fear that the prey gets in their eyes as they dangle them over their mouth or pounce on them, ready to swallow them up…

The prey is a begging, crying mess. The pred finds this cute, whispering, licking those tears away and humming “you look so pretty when you cry”. Then into the gullet they go…

Sure, it’s not the best experience for the prey. They’re freaking out and begging for their life, struggling and squirming in that slimy sac that serves as their new home, terrified. The pred is in heaven. But rest assured, that either digestion is painless or that the pred is just gonna keep them around as a pet…

Either way, they care about their little darling meal. Something akin to love and hunger all at once as they coo and poke their stomach, listening to all those sweet gurgles inside, mixed with the most adorable squeals…

And the prey will be fiiiiine. It’s not like the pred intends to harm them. After all, why would they want to damage their most precious prey? If it’s digestion, then they’ll exist as somewhat sentient pudge on the pred’s middle, being gently caressed and stroked and kissed. If it’s endo, then the pred gets so many more opportunities to toy around with them. A cherished little plaything <3

Hhhhh if I did fandom vore stuff you’d better believe I’d be writing about my otp in this scenario 😩

[chainsawmanicure]

Getting Pizza With the Scarecrow

hey guys. this is a fanfic i had started writing a few months ago about TNBA jon. idk why but i really feel like posting on tumblr dot com and getting some sweet notes. so hear it is.

Trigger warning: talk of food, mention of eating a lot of food (mentioned pizza eating competition), just food stuff mainly, mention of stalking

summary: u go to get pizza, but ur situationship decided to tag along

It was afternoon in Augusta, Georgia, and you were so hungry you could hardly press the gas pedal. Pangs of hunger shot through your quivering frame like bullets through a gun range. As you zoomed down the street, you noticed a sign up ahead: Mellow Mushroom. "oh Thank god," you thought to yourself, "something other than mcdongles...." for your stomach yearned for nourishment, though not from the likes of such an establishment as McDongles. Ough

     Pulling into the parking lot, you felt a strange coldness envelop you. You turned around to see if there was anyone else in the car. Sure enough, in the back seat sat Jonathan Crane... The Scarecrow. your old friend from college. He was tall, so tall you wondered how he'd managed to hide himself in your brand new 2024 Nissan Leaf (I googled compact cars). However he'd managed to, for some reason now he decided to show himself. His face was mangled beyond recognition. You couldn't tell exactly if it was his face or a mask, but his mouth opened and closed along with his words and his big white teeth shone clearly in a permanent  grimace. He was wearing the same wide brim hat, tattered jacket, noose, and tight pants as he usually did, and next to him his big stick laid across the seat.

"Jonathan." you greeted, not too surprised at his appearance. You'd suspected he'd been following you for some time now. At home, you'd noticed patterns of unfamiliar wet bootprints on the floor, and missing items from your trinket box, refrigerator, and massive pile of dirty clothes which had built up in the middle of the bedroom.

     In college, he had displayed an interest in you, often getting a little too close to you and staring at you from across the lecture hall. He'd always had weird ways of showing his interest in you, and expressions of friendship. Well, you weren't really friends. Not anymore, at least...

     Too tired and hungry to properly address him or ask him how he got in your car, you stepped out and started towards the restaurant. You soon heard the car door slam and felt Jonathan's presence behind you once more.

"Hungry?" he asked, stepping beside you as you pushed open the door of the establishment.

"Believe it or not, yes. I think someone's been taking all my soup and bread, and I've had nothing to eat at home." you shot him a mildly accusatory glance after saying this.

Jonathan didn't respond immediately. He knew you were aware of his visits to your apartment. He'd intended it to be that way... a reminder he still cared. A reminder he still remembered.

Jonathan: "Maybe someone wants to know where you buy such lovely soup and bread."

You sighed. "Costco. Now are you seriously going into this joint with me? I'm gonna be arrested for being in kahoots with the Scarecrow."

Jonathan: "Calm yourself. We're in Augusta, Georgia. To these people, I'm just an ordinary freak."

     The person at the table like when you walk in and theyre like ok follow me you know? They smiled politely through fearful eyes up at you and your companion before quickly scuffling away, leading you to an empty table.

The joint was fairly empty, save for three individual men and a young couple sharing a peach iced tea. Jonathan pointed at the couple.

"Perhaps they should've gone to Steak and Shake. They have milkshakes there, better for romantic sharing."

"Shut up, Jonathan. Shut up right now," you replied.

     The host scampered away after leading you to your table, and you were left waiting for the waiter with a set of menus before the two of you.

You sat on one side of the booth, and Jonathan sat across the table from you. You were surprised he hadn't sat next to you and squeezed you against the little wall thing dividing this booth from the one on the other side. That seemed like something he would do, but not today apparently. In fact, other than infiltrating your brand new Nissan Leaf, he had been acting rather civil. Civil, of course, as opposed to the clingy curious and weary endangered animal behavior he had exhibited so many years past.

     You watched as he surveyed the menu, holding it delicately in his big long grey hands. You didn't remember those hands being so grey and so... scary. Even harmlessly holding a pizza menu, they seemed as though they meant to instead hold your throat, to squeeze and squeeze until the lights went out. And by lights going out, I mean like, you die.

     He'd positioned his big stick at the back corner of the booth, and it had fallen so it poked against your shoe under the table. He set the menu down after a moment and spoke in that unearthly rasp of his, "I think I'll get a slice of the Kosmic Karma, and a peach iced tea, like the one those two lovebirds are sharing," he pointed once more to the young couple, who had now finished their first tea and gotten a refill.

"Well, I just want cheese," you said. "I think I'll get a whole pie. I'll take the rest home."

Jonathan chuckled, though with his raspy hush it sounded more like a weak cough.

"Take the rest home..." he repeated humorously, "what makes you think you won't devour the whole thing now?"

     And with that old familiar clingy freak swagger he possessed, he leaned forward and held your chin gently with his big long fingers.

"I think we both know how much of an animal you can be," he teased, though his expression contained zero percent of the flirtation his voice tried to sell. (if that makes like literally any sense at all)

     You swatted his hand away. "That was a long time ago." You hadn't eaten a whole pizza in one sitting since the pizza eating contest of sophomore year... None of your friends were able to attend it, but Jon was there. Oh, yes he was... watching intently with his curious and vaguely frightened eyes as you wolfed down eight slices of sausage pizza in under 7 minutes. He had seen a side of you no one else had really witnessed... seen your wrath, your gluttony, your pride, your... lust.

In the nowtimes, he sat before you, hands flat on the table, beady white pupils boring down into your own normal black ones. His demeanor was cold. He knew you were pushing him away, trying to forget what you two had shared all those fateful years ago. You didn't want to remember, but with him sitting before you, wearing his new sexy skin, you had no choice.

     The waiter arrived and shot the scarecrow a sideways glance before clearing her throat. "Hello, thank you for joining us today. May I ask what you two would like to drink?"

You looked at Jon, but he gestured for you to speak first. "I'll have Dr. Pepper, please." The waiter nodded and turned to Jonathan.

"I'll have the peach iced tea," he didn't shift his gaze from yours for a second, "with two straws."

[sliced-n-diced]

I came because I’m super curious if you have any fic recommendations? My brainrot on Halloween is terrible and I need something to help me out

Heres a few that came to mind!!

M/F:

(Not Your) Final Girl by ghost_weather :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47272477/chapters/119113672

You're working the night shift at a gas station in the middle of nowhere when you're almost murdered by the resident serial killer. To your dismay and his delight, you find each other again, and he can finish what he started as many times as he wants.

Baby, (dont) fear the reaper by dachande :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37558858

You never could forget how good he looked perched above you like a damnable god in the midst of a feast. One that hungered for your flesh and your demise. That willful sacrifice on an altar to a being who wants to chew you up between his molars and consume you entirely.

His hand stretches across the threshold. Hades with an offer.

And you can't bring yourself to say no.

(Tagged as M/F but can be read very GN!Reader for the most part : LOVE this one)

Obsession by QueenBeesWritingPoint :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44338180

The Ghostface is obsessive in his love.

It's suffocating, clingy, and overwhelming.

But there's small moments where it's just you and him, and time falls into the void, where Ghostface turns into Danny.

God, is Danny clingy.

M/M:

Gotcha by Michael1109 :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50590837

Danny catches y/n before he escapes a trial. Stuff ensues.

Scavenging by siriscum :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45870517

You catch Ghostface while he’s distracted and decide to enact some vengeance for all the shit he’s put you through.

Fuck Me? Naw, Fuck You! by alucardarc :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45505345

Danny should have known you were a freak when he first saw you.

The violent killer should have known you were batshit insane when he noticed you from the corner of his eyes, staring at him like you wanted nothing more than to devour him. He should have known you were deranged when you kept flirting with him as you checked his groceries out, a pretty smirk curling across your features when he replied with bored answers and a nervous glint shining in his eyes.

Danny should have known better than to get involved with you, someone who clearly wanted nothing more than to break him. Maybe if he had, then he wouldn’t be in this state.

GN!Reader:

Desperate Measures by s_c_r_i_p_s_i :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707918

Seeking privacy, you stray a little too far from the campfire to perform your... daily ritual.

Ghostface has been watching and decides it’s time for a little audience participation.

Matchbook by misericordia_writing :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45585013/chapters/114704077

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐜𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝-- 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫. 𝐀𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.

A series of connected one-shots, focused around a relationship between The Ghost Face and the reader.

Wet Sand, Moss Born by justwolosersandqtipcpttonbuds :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44105895/chapters/110903055

he can't keep his hands off of you.

Washrags by justwolosersandqtipcpttonbuds :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44105530

it's not like you'd notice

Real by Guugi :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22093993

He's the only one around who's capable of making you feel something real.

Stabbing Sounds Harsh, Just Call it Flirting by LittleWingScales :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38741541

You hate visits from your family. You try to be cordial, patient, and as understanding as possible, but they obviously know every button you have and press them relentlessly. You thought having them over for dinner would be pleasant (and give your mom the opportunity to apologize for last time) but no such luck.

Part 1 of 2

Spilled guts by rapono :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23056975

Another grisly attack by the Ghostface, another victim with their guts cut open and spilled onto the carpet floor. And yet, despite all odds, coated in their own blood and viscera, they wake up.

( this one is sooooooo good i love it )

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

⁘꩜⚓Hurricane (Neuvillette x Fem! Sailor Reader)⚓꩜⁘

synopsis:

With those ominous thunderclaps, you know your husband needs you.

word count:

1380

genres:

angst, hurt/comfort, domestic fluff

warnings:

Mentions of schizophrenia, cannibalism.

There were darkly elegant swirls in the clouds. Lightning danced through the air. The smell of ozone left notes of something that clung to your windpipe. This was not the typical ocean storm. Racing below deck, you checked to ensure the supplies were secured, and raced to the navigation cabin.

In your earlier sailing days, they'd been known as freak storms that strangely coincided with the more dramatic trials. No meteorologist could explain them, and they were eventually theorized to be a quirk of The Oratrice or something to do with the Primordial Sea. But time, and your secret marriage to a certain Iudex, had taught you better.

"Check the equipment and divert more power to the engines. We make a break for the port."

"Yes, Captain."

On land, all a storm was something of the outside. It could be avoided entirely, or admired from within well-enforced walls. On the seas, however, they swallowed one whole. The primeval roar of the waves was to be endured (and soothed the moment you had the chance).

A sailor's report- there were enough reserves for the return. You nodded distractedly when they complimented your judgement. Some would go as far as to say you challenged the seas themselves with the might of Fontainian technology. You knew better than to let that flattery get to your head.

After minutes that felt like hours of struggle, electric blue lamplight cut through fog and fear. Cheering, the crew guided the ship to Fontaine's southwestern inlet. Their work was near its end- but not yours. Pulling a greatcoat around your shoulders, you left your first mate to supervise things and headed to the hurricane's true eye.

Just wait a little longer for me.

The wind and rain battered you, making every step a battle to keep balance. The drops lashed against your face and left stinging pain in your eyes. Not that they could help the scenario- they couldn’t even make out the cobblestone past the grey all around. The shapes of the people and Melusines were only outlines and shadows caught in the haze. It was hard to even hear their shouts.

The city lamps (to your eyes now fuzzy blue orbs), and your experience served as guides. They led you to Quartier Nabonnais, past the now eerily glowing fountain. Racing through the passageway below a deceptively designed arch, you found a brief respite. It led to the outskirts of the city proper, and you headed through the muddy fields up the slopes to your home.

Though inside the moderate, but tastefully decorated villa, the thunderclaps were very much still audible. The lights were off, rendering the once-cozy home black and frigid. You flung off your uniform and headed across the hallway and up the stairs to the bedroom. Your heart ached at the sight.

He was crumpled on the ground, facing away from the doorway and tail wrapped around his body. Crossing the room, you reached your arms around his stomach and rested your forehead on his back.

He seized once, violently- not expecting you back so soon. Patrols around Fontaine could take weeks. He'd encumbered upon your life again. But in that moment, he had not the strength to act on the guilt.

The case had been that of a man in Poisson, struggling under poverty. The voices in his head had fed on his desperation, his isolation and his hunger. That ever-growling beast that made him tremble all over, that stole the time he had in flashes of unconsciousness. And, once back in waking moments, made him salivate after the warm, young, tender flesh of the children he once loved so.

And with the sentencing he handed down, it seemed he'd given them license to take his life too.

For the lives of the little ones lost, for the nightmares of the witnesses who'd heard the screams, for the sick dread that would eternally haunt the officers who'd been called to the scene, the judgement had to be severe. But what about him? He, who'd not had a clear thought for months and drifted half-aware of reality? He, for whom the iron stench and sizzling meat brought a sickening clarity. He, who'd been found sobbing, screaming, and clutching what little was left of his son's hand.

In the man's earlier pictures, the Iudex saw Vautrin's eyes- worn, yet determined. His children clung to him, sensing nothing but their father's devotion. None of them, not even this perpetrator, could have perceived what was to come. What was the use of his justice, if it could not have saved this family? All this power, and yet he could do nothing but condemn one already living a nightmare.

You'd been inching around, trying to reach his front. But with smooth, scaly hands, he gripped your arms.

“Do not look at me.”

You complied, returning to your position behind him.

He wished not to hide the fangs or the scales or the tail, but the tears. Tiny, ever-so tiny-pools sang of the distillation of that which he'd never seemed to master. Each pat onto the ground tolled a damning accusation for which he had no counter. The prosecution found him guilty of unquantifiable counts of failure to protect the innocent and an unpardonable lack of self-control. His sentence- to drown within his own mind, where images of the ones he'd left behind would dance in time to a throbbing heartbeat.

And yet, here you were- laying your head against the centre of his spine and leaving warmth to blossom. He knew you'd hear of the trial. And yet, as always, you'd trust that he'd made the best choice.

A lone dewdrop dissolved in love's and agony's deluge.

Teeth gritted, revealing his fangs. Lightning once more cracked and clawed through the clouds. Rain lashed against the windows and the winds gave agonizing howls. But he knew that, any longer, and the city would have to be evacuated. He could almost see them- human and Melusine alike clinging to anything they could reach. This had to end.

He began relaxing his posture. Your body was there, reassuring as always.

Focus on that, Neuvillette.

Her breathing is even- match her tempo.

They...are cool. Like the zephyrs of fall that comfort the workers, dance around the children and refresh all the people of Fontaine. All these souls still need me. They, too, trust my judgement.

This man is now a danger to Fontaine, and to himself. He was lost long before the case came to you. There are many more that can still be saved. Many others can find closure in the court over which you preside.

May the light of Justice cast burning upon the fog of sin, that her children may glory in her warmth.

With time, the frenetic drumbeats above softened to rumbles. He could at last, loosen his grip and turn to you. Gently, but still a little desperately, he nuzzled in under your jaw. His tail inched around your body and drew you closer. A huge improvement.

"May I, now?"

A low, choked assent. You lifted his head so he could look into your eyes.

Scale patterns had risen, transforming the texture of his skin. Their faint indigo was being lent a beautiful, though poignant shine from saline stars. And his eyes, though a beautiful shade of lavender, seemed darkened in grief.

He could not voice his thoughts, and he would not for a long time. But you did not ask it of him. Instead, you gave. You traced the bumps and ridges, warming them with your touch while you wiped away the tears.

Once you ceased, drawing back to smile at him, he stared in awe. The floods within his heart and the city's streets began to ebb. Your gentle, powerful hands had showed once again the road to peace, and to the strength he needed.

With hesitant, but nonetheless earnest adoration, he kissed those hands. They always accepted his offerings of affection- bloodied, raw and trembling as they were. He kissed them, while whispering your name as one would a prayer in their darkest hours. For somehow, you knew the spells to part the sea of tears, perform the tenderest of hydromancies, and through its reflection divine a dragon-man worthy of love.

⚓⁘꩜⁘Author's Notes⁘꩜⁘⚓

Dividers:

@firefly-graphics @div1nepetal

Kaomojis:

@junghwansy2k  @yvbiko @dientesdeporcelana @itmodelblog

Thank you for reading!