#i hope that any future children i have will have as much drip as these two

[aimeedaisies]

✨ Princess Anne, Peter and Zara being fashion icons ✨

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Costume Meta 7x05

Hello, Hey, how we all doing??

Ready for another super long meta post??

There is so much to talk about this week - admittedly mostly Buck and Eddie related, but there is also plenty going on for Hen and Karen as well.

No Bobby this week as we only see him in uniform, and only the one costume for Athena as well. I also want to say that I am not doing any of the costumes from the Madney wedding that we saw at the end of the epsiode - I want to give them the space they deserve and I will probably write a separate pre episode meta for those costumes specifically! All I will say is Maddie looks stunning, Buck in white - hello! and Eddie in a just a collar making him look like a pink priest - hilarious!

The rest is under the cut as always 😎

Let's start with some of the guest characters.

Alien Hand syndrome man continues to prove the check means bad things theme, which makes me happier than you can ever know!!

Then we have Deidra in her very bright pink coat. If you read my promo meta for this episode you will have read a fairly sizeable section at the end on my thinking about the use of pink in this season (going to make a separate post during this hiatus so its all in one place). All of the times we see it in this episode, play into (and I guess prove) my thinking. Deidra is acting with good intentions and while I don't think she's naive or innocent in the strictest sense of the word, she is perhaps continually being naive in thinking that not revealing Mara's past is the right way to go (don't come at me about child protection etc I am fully aware of what the real world laws state, but this story arc really highlights the fact that in trying to protect children who are at risk and in the system, they can also cause ongoing harm if things are not taken on a case by case basis - its a whole other essay that I am not getting into here).

Then we have Mara herself who is never without pink - namely her pink blanket. The pink plays into the theme of innocence especially with Mara and while she may not be innocent of the act of maiming Denny, her innocence goes much deeper. Its meant as a very clear signpost of the innocence of childhood - that pink blanket and her clinging onto it is a symbol of her clinging onto her childhood, despite the fact that she has gone through a terrible loss and trauma. she is still a child and the show is clearly going to play into the idea that as she settles into the Wilson home and is able to work through the trauma, her need to cling onto her childhood in this way will diminish and we'll see her slowly become less attached to the blanket. We already have signs of progress with the colour journey her tops have been on - lavender, pink and then the turquoise one at the end. Lavender is also a colour associated with childishness or lethargy, pink the colour of innocence, and childhood. While turquoise is a colour of calmness and clarity. its signalling HenRen's breakthrough with Mara and that she's growing and beginning to feel secure.

Hen and Karen

Hen and Karen go on a real colour journey this week - I'm doing them together (along with Denny) because they very much work in tandem clothing wise (and also because I was running out of pictures again - whats new there!)

So first up we have Karen in this beautiful dip dye ombre dress in purple, pink and mauve. it also has this drip staining pattern which has deliberately been created during the dying process. The lavender at the top of the dress is representative of hope and serenity, this is Karen in a great place - about to expand her family and fulfil a dream. The pink as I've said is all about innocence and naivety - more innocence in this case - both the new baby being innocent and Hen and Karens innocent hopes for their future. The dark mauve at the bottom of the skirt - eating into the pink is such a choice - gathering storm clouds, foreshadowing the turmoil about to come - taking away the innocent hope. mauve can be standoffish and withdrawn, and in this context those are great descriptors for Mara and her struggles that Hen and Karen will need to help her work through.

Hen's in cyan blue trousers - which is a colour associated with clarity and balance. whilst the cream, black and blue jacket with stars on is the beginning point for a theme that runs through the Wilsons arc this week - black is a power colour, associated with many things, but for Hen and Karen in this arc it is very much about protection and strength. Here for hen it is mostly about protection - protecting this new baby they are about to take in. The cream is warmth and tranquility.

Hen is wearing check - foreshadowing the upcoming struggles with Mara. Karens bronze and black Jacquard trousers are a symbol of strength - bronze as a colour means strength and support, it's also a symbol of faithfulness. It's telling us that Karen will take the lead on supporting Mara and being strong for her.

We see a lot of white on Karen in this episode, white, like pink is a colour of innocence, but it is more associated with purity and balance. It is also a colour of neutral refelction. By this I mean that it amplifies other colours by providing a neutral background - allowing other colours to shine. I find this a really interesting thing when connected with Karen - it amplifies her strength and supportive nature when the Wilsons meet Mara.

Hen adn Karen in bed are in dusty versions of blue and pink - Karen innocently tries to touch Mara and that is when the screaming starts. Putting Hen in blue is about relaying her trustworthiness and sets her up as a soothing and calming presence for Mara - hence the sleeping on the floor of her room!

At the hospital, We see Denny in red - he was wearing it when Mara woke the house up and its an indicator of what is about to befall them (in the same way Bobbys red in the cruise ship disaster adn Athenas red in relation to Harry, or Bucks back in s5 when Eddie broke down).

We again have Karen in white amplifying the other colour she is wearing, which in this instance is this buff/brown oversized sleeveless coat in teddy fleece. The brown is stability, dependability and responsibility - playing into the fact this episode really highlights Karen's position in the family as this stable rock which Hen and Denny lean on when they need support. Karen's unswerving and solid personality is once more being shown off. Its really a key thing for them to show as it feels like a set up for Mara and how she is going to bond and rely on Karen and that dependability as she unpacks her trauma.

The orange jumper is a really interesting choice. I do love the loose threads on the design of it - paying into the idea that Hen and Karen are at a loose end and unsure what to do going forward. But, the orange itself is generally an open minded colour, its energetic and its also a colour of transformation. These are all things we know are true of Hen and Karen and it hints at the fact that they will fin a way forward. Once again we have Karen in white amplifying Hen's orange and the energy and idea of transformation the colour brings.

Denim jacket and white tee. I love the distressed nature of this denim jacket and the way it plays into both scenes we see it in - playing into the distress Hen feels over finding out what Mara has gone through and how it explains why she has become non verbal and incredibly protective over her pink blanket.

Again the white of amplification and purity. Hen has pure intentions and the white amplifies Karens black when they are at dispatch listening to the 911 call.

We also have the Karen necklace back - once more showing this ism't about Hen - its about Karen and their family.

Black on Karen for this scene is such a choice. Black is a power colour, it means strength and protection. Here it is showing Karens determination, as she gains understanding, to protect Mara and support her through her trauma - it is representative of Karen choosing to use the power she has been given through gaining information. The gold highlights hint at success.

I love these lavender pyjamas on Karen - lavender is a soothing and sleep inducing colour (along with its scent which is possibly where the association came from for the colour) along with a Japanese print of mountains and trees, which plays into the idea of serenity and peacefulness.

Hen in contrast is wearing fairly bright and bold black and green. The green is all about that growth and learning once more, the growth of Hen and Karen, learning more about the issues Mara faces and seeking a solution, but also the growth of their family. The black is a reflection of power - much in the same way Karen wearing black when they heard the 911 call Mara made, here it is Hen, representing the protection that Hen and Karen are offering Mara.

Athena in green - again with the mesh open weave knit - this may be a theme for her this season - potentially something to do with feeling caged or caging someone/something - especially children as both scenes we've seen it so far have been to do with young people and the law in some respect - ending up in the system - Harry through is crime and Mara through her parents death.

Chim

This dark bottle green with a fawn brown (what I think is a polo) shirt underneath is Chimneys only non uniform costume this week . This kind of dark green, is as always a signal of growth, but its also a colour of harmony, and right now - everything in Chim's world is harmonious.

Maddie

I don't thinkI've said it yet, but I am so happy to have Alayna back dressing Jennifer - I feel like we're really back on track with Maddie's costuming after last season where they somehow managed to make Maddie look terrible. The costuming overall last year was fine - not as good as Alayna's work, but it was for the most part good - except for Maddie where it was all over the place!

Anyway - Maddie in black here is very much about focussing the attention on Hen and Karen - like with CHimney's muted green, in tandem they are making the viewers eye focus on Hen and Karen - especially Karen - who is the brightest in the room.

Maddie wearing this sage green colour when Buck comes out to her is sheer perfection from my perspective - we, once more have the green of growth and renewal, the green of learning - Maddie learning more about her brother - this new thing that he is realising about himself and choosing to share with her (even if inadvertently). But this green is also sage green - sage as in the play on sage advice - which we see Maddie give him. Buck needs that good advice - he needs to hear that its ok, that he can take the time to figure himself out and that its ok that he's only just uncovered this aspect of himself and that it doesn't invalidate him being an ally up to this point!

Ok not going to lie - I got a little carried away from here on out - so sorry in advance for the rambling mess you're about to read!

Marisol

I'm doing Marisol in a weird order - because I wanted to talk about her date night outfit in tandem with Eddies - because its relevant. So we start of with virgin Mary Marisol! Honestly this outfit is just perfection from the costume department - they saw the brief and went to town and I love it. Its so good to see what they can do when they get to play!

One of the things I really love about this costume is the blue that they chose. Because that blue - that is Bucks blue! the virgin Mary blue is usually a much brighter royal blue. It really helps to place Marisol in parallel to Buck and we get the play on t he fact that Eddie seeing Marisol in this way changes everything for him, whilst later on, whilst Buck is in the same blue, he reassures him that nothing will change between them.

Look, I'm not going to lie, when I saw Marisol in blue and yellow for this scene I laughed because Blue and yellow (as I've gone on a million times about) means queer coding so to blatantly put Marisol in it - in a washed out form, and very much connecting her to Catholicism - genius move. It marks her out as a roadblock, but also puts her into the role of beard (unknowingly on her part) because Eddie is still in the midst of his repression, even if it is beginning to unravel now.

The black top with spaghetti straps is clearly a theme they're going with on Marisol, as are the ditsy prints. The yellow high waisted trousers are interesting because of the specific shade of yellow. Yes the whole communication theme still applies here -and we see it in action, but this shade of yellow is sallow and sickly (one of the reasons its called sickly yellow is because its the colour of a lot of medications!!) - this relationship and its restart are ill and that automatically means its going to struggle to survive.

It plays into the more negative meanings around the colour - uncertainty and idleness and cowardice. For me the cowardice aspect is an interesting one in relation to Eddie - he has behaved cowardly up to this point - hiding out and not having the conversations that need to be had, and even in this scene it is Marisol who takes the lead.

It's really giving us an indication of things Eddie needs to work on in regards to himself - and once more it comes down to communication. Communication has always been Eddies major flaw - that he isn't good at it, unless really really pushed into it - essentially under duress. The other thing with communication is that it plays really well into the catholic guilt aspect - this idea that growing up catholic has taught him to repress part of who he is - to go along with what is expected of him, but that it also taught him not to ask for what he needs, to not communicate. We see it in this episode with his inability to say no to Marisol (the whole hiding out at Bucks so he doesn't have to have sex speaks volumes) even down to suggesting there's a third type of guy - who just needs a minute. Because, while that might be true to a certain extent, the fact that he says this off the back of her expressing her distress and upset about how all guys are one of two things, speaks volumes - its not him saying this because that's how he actually feels, its partly him saying it because he is pushed into a position where he doesn't want to be the bad guy. its really not a good place to be restarting a relationship from.

We also have the ditsy print of doom in play again - like I've said before, ditsy print on Eddies girlfriends - never a good sign - its really playing into this idea of Eddie jumping in headfirst with gay abandon (pun intended) and then regretting his life choices. Shannon wore ditsy print a fair amount - especially in the I think I'm pregnant' and 'we should get a divorce' scenes. Ana wore ditsy print A LOT - she was wearing it when Eddie had his panic attack in the shop and at other key moments that marked the death knell for their relationship. And so this appearance of ditsy print here marks the same - the relationship is not long for this world

OK date night Marisol. The way this outfit played out more or less as I expected, She was very much an 'innocent' bystander in this scene (whilst also creating one corner of a triangle with Buck and Eddie) , and the ditsy print very much played into this. Like I said in my promo meta, both Shannon and Ana were costumed in ditsy print as well as in lots of pink!!!

The other aspect of this outfit that is making me laugh is the fact that the skirt is giving me 1980's/early 1990's teen vibes (not to out myself as old but trust me I had some just like this back then and I wouldn't be caught dead in it now as a grown woman!!) and the baby pink handbag looks like something an 8 year old would have to play dress up with - its all very childish and immature - naive one could say, and while it didn't play out quite how I was expecting, her being a novice nun, sure explains a lot of why she comes over as pretty immature.

The other aspect of this childish style we're seeing on her plays into Eddies narrative of looking for magic and trying to recreate what he had with Shannon. He's attracted to Marisol because she is immature and childish - it reminds him of what he had with Shannon when he was young, and when you're trying to recapture that, its easy to fall into the trap of thinking someone behaving in a naive manner is you finding what you'd been looking for. Eddies journey, along side his catholic guilt, is about learning that he cannot recapture or recreate that magic he had when he was young - that the love of youth - in all its innocence is not something that is sustainable or actually what he wants in the present.

Then we have Eddie in white. I spoke in the promo meta about how the white set him and Marisol as opposites and that remains true - very true on more than one level. What I especially love about it and something I could not have predicted is how it plays into the novice nun aspect of their story this episode - truly this show is a comedy! Because nuns wear black and white this is an obvious play on that, but it is also a play on the fact that Marisol is still a practicing catholic, whilst Eddie is very much not. The other aspect of this white is that of Eddies two non uniform costumes, it is the first one and we get this black and white play on religion - the black and white of nuns and priests - the black and white of being religious or not. Eddie never questions if he wants to become a practicing catholic again - he is lapsed and that is how he intends to stay.

Eddie in uniform, with his green trainers, blue towel and water bottle. the blue towel and bottle play into the buck and Eddie blue green theming we see with them. But what is interesting is though is that Eddie is fulfilling all the colour theming on his own - he is both blue and green - to me this is about Eddies own struggles within himself as well as foreshadowing the Eddie Marisol break up down the line (green shoes suggest a road needs to be to walked before we get there) - it hints at Eddies internal struggles and implies that its will ultimately end in a break up a bit further down the line.

I also think it's only when in Uniform that Eddie can admit to his catholic guilt. Because we all know when Eddie is struggling with some form of emotional turmoil, he wears a black singlet - and he could've been wearing the same here, it would've been totally fitting with the situation - he is going through something emotionally and struggling with it.

But he's in his uniform. Part of it is to have him on a different level to Buck - they are both struggling with something in this scene. When we have previously had Buck and Eddie scenes like this one at work, the one dressed in uniform, tends to be the one offering advice to the one not in uniform. That isn't the case here. Part of it comes back to Buck not actually needing advice, but needing to reveal something about himself - to confess. Eddie is the one who needs advice.

This is a flipping of the traditional narrative for these scenes and is proof that even though Eddie might later tell Buck that nothing is going to change between them, that it has in fact already changed, it is just that neither of them are fully cognisant of that change at this moment in time. It is a key indicator to use the audience that this has happened before but that things are not going to play out the same way this time.

Put it this way - Eddie has form for doing something extreme with his relationships with women in the aftermath of Buck doing something dumb - its one of the manifestations of his repression. This time its asking Marisol to move in with him in the immediate aftermath of Buck going full green monster over Tommy.

Last time it was in the aftermath of Buck begins and then doubling down with Ana after the shooting when Buck had hooked up with Taylor and before that in the aftermath of Shannon's death and Buck suing the department he went and joined a fight club - but he has form. Its completely in character for him to pull this sort of a move. I know he says he's going with his gut but I argue he is in fact ignoring his gut - or at the very least confused about what his gut is telling him, because that would mean actually looking at why his gut reaction to Buck doing something dumb makes him do something dumb in turn connected to these women in his life.

Eddie in black - this is the same shirt as the white one - just the reverse colour - which is important. This shirt has several layered meanings to it. its about the reversal of what Eddie wants - from him being bubbly and excited about Marisol moving in, to the dread of her having moved in and wanting her to move out - his feelings go from white to black - light to dark - happy to unhappy and it all sums up the relaity of that relationship - while it was new and unserious, it was fun and light, when things got real - it becomes dark and oppressive.

I'll go into more detail about this shirt when I get to Bucks costume for this scene - because they are connected!

The other thing about this outfit is that the green trousers have been replaced with jeans. Now I see a couple of reasons for the wardrobe department doing this. Firstly is that it plays into the 'nothings is going to change between us' of it all. Its a visual indicator that in fact things have changed (along with Buck wearing a brighter shirt than we normally get in these buddie heart to hearts that take place in Bucks loft but more on that later) the Buck being bi and going on a date with Tommy of it all aside, this is the first time we've actively seen Eddie hiding out at Bucks to avoid his girlfriend - this was a barrier that had existed between them previously that has now been broken down. Then there is the fact that Eddie does go home to Marisol - and he couldn't be wearing green at that point because she was wearing blue and Eddie in green would've meant break up time - only the Marisol as a plot device arc isn't yet over (it will be soon I promise - all the costume signs are there!) so that couldn't happen.

Tommy

This dark olive green shirt that is almost brown. The brown undertones hint at the stability he represents while the green is hinting at his military past and once more paralleling him with Eddie. One of the things about green as a colour is that its not only a symbol of growth and renewal, but its also a colour of learning, and in an episode titled 'You don't know me' it feels like all the green is very much about education - learning about other people - and the growth that results from it. It feels especially important here for Tommy and Buck - that is after all what going on a date it all about - learning about one another and seeing if you're compatible.

The other fun thing about this green shirt is though that the green plays into the blue green colour theory when it comes to Buck and Eddie and their partners and the end of relationships. This one before its had chance to begin.

For Coffee we have a grey Henley and a blue zip front hoodie with a grey striped undertone to it (I am pretty sure this is actually a hoodie we've seen on Chimney but I can't remember when and I don't think it would be the very same one as pretty sure Lou would not be fitting into Kenneths clothes ever, but Chimney has definelty worn the same style!!). Again Henley's are an Eddie thing, so we once more have the parallel with Eddie being drawn.

The interesting thing here is that the grey blue is the same colour combo Buck wore on their first date attempt - the costume department played a lot with flipping colour in this episode, so to have it done here as well is really fun - the fact there is more grey than blue is also interesting. It's a neutral colour, it is seen as a colour of stability, but is also a colour of uncertainty. It really plays into that theme of uncertainty running through the Buck and Tommy arc. The blue hoodie is actually pretty important because we've had one of Buck and Tommy wearing something dark blue in every scene they've had together - usually the one on the back foot. Tommy in this scene is relatively neutral in terms of position for most of this scene - they are equals - but he is put onto the back foot by Buck asking him to be his date to Maddie and Chim's wedding.

Buck

Where to start with our beloved bi disaster!

I obviously spoke a fair amount about the date night shirt in my promo meta. The navy blue knit bowling shirt with these silver/grey close together pinstripes running down the front playing into the Buck wearing vertical stripes theme we've has running with him for at least the last 2 seasons.

What I said about false starts and this date absolutely played out - in the same way the sperm donation shirt represented a false start on that donation, this shirt also represents a false start on Bucks dating life as a bi man. The white trainers are also carrying on the theme of Bucks Journey towards happiness

What I find most interesting about this outfit though isn't colour theory related. its all about the fit of the clothes. Because these are ill fitting on Buck - not something we see from him very often - in fact I think the only time we see him in anything close to ill fitting to this extent is back in season 1 when he was figuring out who he was and if being a firefighter was the right for him and exploring relationships and what he was trying to find in that arena. The trousers are the most ill fitting of it all, but I'll come to the trousers later on as they are part o a wider Buck costume theme we have going on!

The shirt is a little roomie, but not overly so, it just stands out more because we're so used to his shirts fighting for their life, here this one is baggy and really helps to sell the idea of defeat, but also that h was trying on this new part of himself for size and that it doesn't quite fit. It's the only time this episode we see his clothes not fit him in this way and its a really small but expressive part of costuming that I love to see.

Then we have this blue broadcloth jacket over a white tee and with these plum/brown coloured trousers - they're a bit blink and you'll miss them so its hard to be sure what type of trouser they are, but I think they are essentially smart joggers - jersey material but trousers!

We all know that Buck in white means trouble, I'm putting him outing himself to his sister as the bad thing - along with the fact that the date didn't work out.

I'm really fascinated by the fact that we really seem to be leaning into navy blue and Buck being bi. Navy has always been a colour we've seen a lot of on Buck in general, but there is something about the fact we've seen him (or Tommy) wearing it in every single scene that is about his bisexuality. I'm talking from the kiss scene onwards, not anything before that as Buck wasn't aware of his bisexuality before the kiss. I can't wait to see if it continues!

The green shirt jacket is an interesting one. it obviously helps to play into the buck and Eddie blue green theory, but it does in a smaller way play into the blue green theming we see around Buck and Eddie and their relationships - specifically around issues arising. Both Buck and Eddie wear green when they break up with their significant others and while there is no break up here, there is a break of sorts. This was Buck about to try and tell his Best friend that he was actually out on a date with Tommy and that he's bi

symbol of growth - Buck went in with a goal - to tell Eddie he was on a date with Tommy, but changed tack when he saw Eddie needed to go through something - this is Buck growing as a person - not making something about him.

The other thing about this outfit is that its basically the same as the one Eddie wore at the airfield (even down to the badding of the trousers) - just in reverse - Eddie black trousers, black jacket, green top, and here Buck is black trousers, black top and green jacket - I find this fascinating as a metaphor for where the two of them are on their respective journeys.

Buck is now bi and out (he's told his sister) and has been on a date with a guy (regardless how successful it was - he cannot put it back into the box) - his growth is externalised and therefore expressed through the wearing of a green jacket. We get a lot of storytelling through the various Jackets Buck wears (we've seen him in over 35 at this point!)

While Eddie - who we could say was being taken on a date by Tommy - even if he didn't know it (because who flies someone to Vegas to a sold out fight if its not a date??) wearing a much brighter green that we've seen on him before now (pretty much all of his greens are more army green with a couple of exceptions - much darker greens akin to Bucks jacket in the below picture) - still in the army green wheelhouse, but much bolder. Eddie's queer status is still very much internalised - hence it being underneath the black jacket.

Buck coming out to Eddie from a costume perspective was a glorious parallel that I have already mentioned in the promo meta (I've run out of pictures so you'll have to go watch the scene yourself if you want to see what I mean). Its actually a bit deeper that I appreciated in that promo meta, but that is in part because at the time of writing the meta I wasn't 100% sure it was a coming out scene and I didn't get to see the way it was shot and how that also played into the paralleling.

Costume wise - I already spoke above about Eddies black shirt and how it is reversing him in the episode. But what I didn't mention is that fact that it parallels in colour terms, what he was wearing when Buck informed the firefam that Connor and Kameron were pregnant. Eddie wore a black marl henley - black with flecks of dark grey running through it, and Buck here is wearing a slightly darker blue version of the same top he wore in that same scene. He is standing in the same place at the counter of his kitchen, or sitting very close to the same position and we get similar camera angles. As a whole the parallel is very loud - Buck was happy and proud of something he had done and wanted to share it with his friends - wanted their approval. He was feeling good about himself and confident in his decision.

The biggest thing about the blue - this shade specifically is the way it play into the blue theme we saw last season with Buck - the theme that started in the 5x18 finale at Hen and Karens vow renewal, when he was free of Taylor and moving forward and essentially restarting his search for happiness. We saw it weave a thread through the entirety of season 6, being worn at key moments that played into that theme - after Lev died, at various points in the sperm donation arc, and a key points in the aftermath of his death and rebirth.

The successfully helping create life aspect of this is so interesting. It on a low key level plays into the you don’t find it you make it manifesto that’s been at the heart of bucks arc since s2. the whole year if yes was supposed to be about this very thing - about Buck creating the life he wants for himself  - the sperm donation isn’t about the baby it’s about Buck and about him figuring out what he’s missing (which comes back to not only Thomas and Mitchell, but also Lev).

The other thing that ties into this theme is that Eddie isn't really changing but Buck is. Whenever we have a scene at the loft between Buck and Eddie Bucks costume and colour varies, but Eddies stays more or less the same. Bucks colour Palette for these scenes goes - dark grey in the you want to go for the title scene, then we have the grey blue on the balcony and now this much lighter blue. This is highlighting Bucks progression while Eddie who remains in his black shirt and that progression - while Eddie essentially remains steadfast - is key - it’s showing us that while buck is still doing dumb things, he is learning - he is listening to whatever Eddie is telling him - that he’s accepting Eddie’s absolution of his sins more and more - growing and understanding. 

It’s building on his long running arc - his fear of being left behind, of not being important enough for people to stick around for - and showing us he’s increasingly understanding that that fear is unfounded - that he’s found his personal- the one who will stay and who is steadfast in that. That’s why we see Eddie unchanging in his black shirt green cargos while buck gets lighter - more unburdened by that fear.

Before you think all is lost on the Eddie front though, we are seeing change - the army green trousers are gone and have been replaced with jeans - perhaps, in the same way Bucks growth into his bisexuality began with his beginning to wear jeans again, Eddies own growth into his own queer identity also begins with jeans - moving him away from Eddie the soldier - fighting for others - being a rock for others and now into a position where he can do his own growing.

In the sperm donation arc, Buck was finally able to donate and was wearing that super pale mint green polo. we don't see the same with the outcome here at this point in the story (although the beige/mint green jacket from the bachelor party is making me👀👀👀 at this moment in time!) - we get this cream open weave linen shirt with black and terracotta and golden brown vertical stripes.

I love that they went with a shirt that has such an open weave - playing into the whole concept of Buck being open and embracing this newly revealed part of him that he's discovered. But what I love most about this shirt is the way it ties back into the Buck learning to accept himself and find his happiness.

Because this shirt is so similar to the one from 6x01 - when he decides he doesn't need a new couch, what he needs is to be ok on his own and with himself.

lets talk Buck and his trousers because the trousers are a whole thing this season and I am truly in love with the long game the wardrobe department have been playing on this one. They know that we have all been out here raising eyebrows at Bucks trousers for the past few seasons as they've gotten shorter and shorter and ill fitting. I know I've made comments in previous costume metas about the fact they must be doing something intentional with them being so short in the leg - that them doing this is giving the appearance of a child who is still in short trousers and isn't fully grown - hasn't moved on to wearing full length trousers yet.

Well it would seem I was right and thats exactly what they were doing, putting him in short trousers to show that he wasn't his fully formed self - that he was growing and learning and figuring things out. because - I've gone back through my spreadsheet and checked his trousers out for all of his scenes and there are only a handful where he has trousers on that are well fitted and the correct length. One of them is at the start of season 6 - at the end of the episode where he moves his armchair instead of getting a new couch - the one time in season 6 we see him most at peace with himself

I remarked in the 7x04 meta that we only saw Buck in his too short trousers in the one scene at the airfield, and from then on, he was was in jeans. Now the jeans are a mimicking thing - Buck hasn't worn stone wash jeans since Eddie appeared on the scene back at the start of season 2, so for him to start wearing them again as soon as he becomes jealous of Eddie and Tommy - and Tommy is wearing jeans - was pretty telling in its own right. It's Buck trying to get Eddies attention (not Tommys - Eddies) because, we do not see Eddie in jeans in 7x04 - but we do see Tommy in them - and in Bucks head he is loosing Eddies attention to a guy wearing stone wash jeans - so if he wears stonewash jeans then maybe he'll get Eddies attention back.

That obviously didn't work out how Buck thought it would, but it did lead to him figuring a new part of himself out.

We can see how his trousers are all now sitting at the correct length, I grabbed this still of the black ones, and you can see in the full length still from the date those are as well (even if they're too big more generally) but the others are all sitting at the correct length as well.

We also see the jeans back for his scene with Tommy - I truly am fascinated by the choice to put him back in stonewash jeans aafter so long as a theming choice for his bisexuality, I really am enjoying this more relaxed looking Buck from a costuming perspective - the journey we've been on with his costumes is great - the increasingly formal style thats just a little too small and tight we've seen over the seasons now slowly relaxing once more into something much more comfortable and well fitted - showing just how far he has truly come.

And thats me out for another week! Sorry it turned into another epic - it would seem `i cant stop myself! Not sure if this has come out longer than last weeks, I think it might've, but I can't be bothered to check! Thank you as always for reading this monster and I hope you enjoyed this deep dive into the costumes for 7x05. I'm off now to hyperfixate on Bucks bathroom door and get myself though this mini hiatus!

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[mari-lu0-0]

Childbirth

Daemon x f!reader.

Summary: You are having a difficult labor.

Description: Description of labor pain, small mention of blood.

Total words: 618.

I do not allow translation or any adaptation of my works.

Screams of pain shook the great stone walls of the dragon and reached as far as the dragon pit.

"I can't do it anymore, Daemon! This hurts so much, please make it stop!" You said desperately as you clawed at the sheets soaked in sweat and blood. It's been hours since you went into labor, the other day it was almost due and the child didn't show any signs of coming out.

"Come on my love, just a little longer. You're doing well, you're doing a great job." He encouraged her

"I can't, I can't take it anymore! Just get the child out of me!

One of his servants tried to wipe his forehead with a cloth, but Daemon just took it from her hands.

"You know I won't allow something like that, I can't lose you." He spoke while wiping off all the sweat that dripped from his forehead.

You winced from the pain. The birth of her other two children had not been as far and painful as this one. Which made her start to think that the Gods were punishing her for something she had done. Until a miracle the midwife breathes a sigh of relief.

"I can see the child's head, my princess. Just a few more pushes and the baby will come out."

"Come on my love just a little longer, you're the strongest woman I've ever met, so I know you can do it, I'm here with you."

With the rest of the strength you had left, you squeezed Daemon's hand as hard as you could, pushing with all the strength in your body. The harder you pushed, the sooner it would all be over. With a final push, his vision began to blur and his mind went blank, a feeling of relief washing over his body.

But you were taken out of your trance thanks to your husband's voice calling you desperately and a small cry.

"It's a boy". She stated proudly. "A strong and healthy little dragon, princess, you don't need to worry." She says handing the boy to Daemon, who takes him with a big smile.

"He looks just like you my love." He says as he moves closer to the baby so you can see him.

The boy was a true Targaryen, he had snow-white hair and skin, and dark purple eyes that would certainly turn lilac in the future.

"You're a terrible liar dear, he's a copy of you." You say with a weak, tired laugh.

"Looking at him, he's as handsome as his daddy here." He says in a convinced voice.

The bedroom doors were quickly opened and two small figures with white hair ran in.

"He's finally born, is he a little brother?" She said the first while sweating in bed next to her mother.

"I want to see it too." He said the other pushing his brother to the side.

"Boys slow down or you'll hurt your mother."

"Alright, let them meet him." You say, taking the small package the baby was wrapped in and turning towards the boys.

"I told you it was a boy Viserys."

"Ah be quiet Aegon... Mună (mother) what is his name?

"Well... I was thinking about calling him Baelon Targaryen, what do you think dear."

"Baelon is a good name dear." Said Daemon with small tears in his eyes, as he slowly stood up watching his children and their waiting.

If he had had any doubts before, at that moment they had completely disappeared, he loved them more than anything and would do everything possible and impossible to keep them safe through all the confusion that was about to come.

I hope you liked the story, I've been writing for a while but I only wrote in Portuguese, but I'm thinking about posting my stories in English here.

I hope that you enjoyed.

[tuliptired]

hello! I don’t want to bother you but could you possibly right about old man Egon Spengler x fem reader?

Empty Pocket Waltz

Pairing: Old man!Egon Spengler/Fem!Reader

Not a bother at all! Firm believer that some pussy would've saved him

Better formatting on Ao3!!

You’ve been living in Summerville, Oklahoma for at least the last handful of decades. It was a cold and windy night when you loaded Callie into the backseat, before you and Egon left your lives in New York to save the world, supposedly. After starting from scratch in a gilded age farmhouse, sending a child off to college, meeting her children- it felt like more of a family dinner. Nevertheless, you were happy. And, despite the threat of constant doomsday for years on end, Egon seemed at a weird sort of peace. Every morning you wake up, you wonder what your future would’ve been like, if your daughter didn’t cry out in the middle of that argument. If he had never gone to hold her, and realize that this was a matter of your little family, as well as the planet.

That was then, in the confines of your miniscule apartment, paint peeling off the walls and water endlessly dripping out your taps. You took a long breath in, grateful for the abundance of fragrant house flora you had managed to keep alive. It was just you and the rolling farmland this morning, a silent little symphony as the sun beat down on your face. Not even the pan below you dared to make any noise.

Your moment alone was cut short by the gentle running of water, and later the creak of the floorboards that made up the steps. Egon had become a better sleeper in time. He used to insist on going in late, getting up early, taking care of Callie before you’d managed to open your eyes. But his old habits came crashing down after a while of falling asleep to gentle wind chimes, chirping crickets, pittering rain. And you found it adorable- his messy hair and soft pajamas seeing you off to your job in town every morning.

You felt a warm body at your side as you finished making breakfast. “Did you sleep well?” you asked, the question as familiar as he was. Egon didn’t answer, leaning his head on your shoulder while you carefully poured him coffee, one cream and four artificial sugars. Time may have altered his disposition, but never his tastes.

“Well,” you started, plating pancakes after he trudged over to the table, “I hope you eat as well as you sleep. We have a big day today.” you spoke excitedly.

Egon woke up a bit after a sip from his old and worn out mug. He puzzled over your proclamation, brow furrowed a bit. “We do?” he wondered, growing nervous in wake of your bright smile.

“Pruning day!” you announced, wrapping your arms around his neck from the back as he let out a soft groan. “And you’re gonna help out, because you promised your poor old wife with bad knees that you’d get it done. And because you love her.”

“Yes. And because I love her,” he said dryly.

You heard him sigh as you loosened your embrace around his shoulders. “The flowers aggravate my allergies and dirt gets stained into my clothes,” He paused. “Get me the shears from the mudroom, please?” A happy noise escaped you then before you buried your head into his hair. “Thank you, Egon.” Geez, did he always have this much hair? You could feel the white locks tickling your own scalp. “Ouf. Next item on the to-do list is a haircut.”

 Egon had been out there for some time when you emerged with a glass of lemonade. Watching your husband do physical labor under the sun was a fairly indulgent source of entertainment- but there’s just something about a man tending to a garden on his hands and knees that made your day a bit brighter.

“Since you’re working so hard,” you offered him the cup, a painted little thing that Callie had made in school, while you sip from your glassware. 

He didn’t seem to mind, shamelessly taking a drink. “Thank you.” He sat back on his haunches then, observing your mini yield. “You’ve got a lot this summer.”

“I know,” you marveled, taking a quick headcount of all your sprouts, shoots, and stalks. “It’s a pensioner’s dream.” 

If your grandson were here, and not up north- he’d undoubtedly be making fun of you both for your stereotypically geriatric source of entertainment. It had taken both you and Egon, the genius, ridiculously long to notice the acres upon acres of farmland at your disposal. Of course, this was after a sizable amount of stressing over what it took to adequately feed a growing child. So, you grew what you could for dinner, garden plot now confined to the side of your house as caring for it became hard.

You took refuge on a worn chair in the shade, legs crossed while your husband bent back down to work. You couldn’t help the pleased sound you made to yourself at the sight of him, pants hitching up to the midsection of his thighs and a bit closer to his skin than other bottoms you’d  seen him don outside. He’d gotten a little fuller over time, but you’d be a liar if you dared to say you minded. 

“Those shorts were a good decision, then?” you mused, low eyes still on his lower half. You nearly missed the look of offense he had as he looked over his shoulder. “Glad you’re bringing them back.”

“I have nothing else. We should put laundry on the list.” Egon stated. 

You rested the glass on your own thigh, condensation providing a little relief from the warmth permeating your spot in the shadows. “You have at least two pairs of sweatpants left. I checked,” you scoffed. You’d known him for so many years that you had no problem decoding his unvarnished nature, even if it was slightly annoyed. You knew he really wasn’t too upset at your ogling, or letting the chore slip your mind. And- he did wordlessly arch a bit further into the bush, a satisfied smile growing on your face.

After all his drudgery was done, you promised you’d find a way to repay him after a second shower. His hulking figure tracking soil around your hallways was enough for you to usher him into the bathroom and stay at the door until you heard the water run. 

He wasn’t very long, and you met back in your now-steamed-washroom to tackle his little salon treatment. “How’d this happen?” you murmured rhetorically, examining Egon from all angles while he dwarfed a stool. He always had refused to use the toilet for anything but its intended purpose, chastising you and your daughter whenever you dared to. In the rare times Callie looked to test his patience- Terrible Twos, she knew that a lesser loved doll or picture book could stand a swim in the porcelain, if it meant getting back at Daddy.

“I thought you liked my hair long?” Egon asked, covered by the fluffy towel you dried his damp hair with.

You brushed it back into its usual place. After a long time of being styled- probably since his final graduation, his hair seemed to compromise, curls finally growing in the way he had manipulated them to. “I do, but that was then,” you worked. “College-Egon was a different guy.”

He sulked a bit. “Elon’s wife lets him wear his hair long.” His uncharacteristic petulance was endearing to you, as you grabbed a pair of hairdressing scissors. These had saved Callie on many different occasions, most notably when you had come home to find her and her father locked inside the destroyed bathroom, trying every remedy in every cupboard and cabinet to remove something viscous and sticky that ended up on her from Egon’s lab. 

“Elon’s wife let him keep a family of foxes. She only put them out when they scuffed her china cabinet.” you laughed lightly, not yet removing anything from his head.

“I won’t take away too much. Just enough to not scratch me.”

He conceded. “You know best.”

“I know.”

You carefully clipped just shy of half an inch from the white that took over what once was brown. You had to admire its refusal to thin out, thick but light pieces littering the tile beneath you. Before he knew you, an old and apparently unkind barber down the street cut his hair. When the price of that looked too high for his parents, his father took up the job, and he wasn’t much of a step up. Once Egon was out on his own, people seldom touched his head, not even after his degrees were finished and he gave it a drastic cut. It always felt nice, being on the giving end of taking care of such a distinctive part of him. One he really never let anyone influence or alter, when given the choice.

A gentle snoring rumbling from him and the slight slump of his head drew you out of your focus when you took a step back to review your work. “You really are old,” you grinned, rousing him awake. You caught your reflections in the mirror. “Good?”

Egon gave you a nod of approval, sitting patiently as you brushed some of the stray white off his shoulders. “Good.”

You examined him once more, still not fully satisfied. Something was off. He still looked great- he always looked great. But you were skipping a step. Egon was nothing if not tolerant, waiting for you to finish your evaluation.

“I know,” you snapped. You didn’t give him much of a further explanation, dipping into the drawers of the sinkside cabinet and emerging with a razor. “Your beard.”

The very tall man nearly scooched off the stool. “I thought you liked it? You’ve never said anything before.”

You glanced down at the shaver in your hand. Shiny and electric- one of the first things you had ordered online, when that was a new thing. “Okay, maybe not these.” you placed them on the counter. “Come on, grandpa. Just a trim.”

You were lucky Egon trusted your judgment. So, you took the scissors and carved him back out, catching short strands with the equally as white towel.

“There you are,” you twinkled, proud of your cosmetology skills. You placed a loving kiss on his cheek, his own smile pulling at the muscle. In your little moment, he convinced you to let him paint your nails in thanks. Your husband. Egon was always handsome, before and after your pampering. But you reveled in the intimacy of routine maintenance with the one you loved.

“Darn it,” you closed the washer-dryer. Halfway through its cycle and it decided to start fussing again. “Egon?” you called, hoping he’d mess around with it again and finish drying your wet clothes.

And mess around he did. He turned knobs, moved pipes, plugged and unplugged things with increasing frustration. This didn’t show much but his stubbornness, but he really was a smart man. With a PhD. But this was one of his few intellectual weaknesses- “smart” appliances. It was one of the more newer things in the old house, an upgrade the handyman (Egon insisted he could fix the old one alone, nearly electrocuting himself before you put your foot down about it) who came from really far out of town to help you out had suggested. But, there was always something going on with it, whether that was your fault or otherwise. There was always a new fix, but not now.

Egon must’ve sensed your worry over the clothes still inside. “We can put these on the line to dry,” he reassured you, using some of his strength to push it forward and inspect whatever went on at its back.

“It’s gonna rain,” you troubled, peering outside at the graying sky. He was in his own, mechanical world, not hearing you as he assessed the faulty thing. 

“Egon?” You wrapped your arms around his middle. 

You could tell his ponderings didn’t stop at your touch. “Yes?”

“I know you can fix the car. And your proton pack. And my hair dryer.” He let out a noise of acknowledgment, which might have had a hint of pride.

“But maybe,” you cringed, “we should just cut our losses and take all this to the laundromat?”

He shot down your idea- because of course that was the wildest suggestion ever presented to him. “Why go all the way out there over something I can fix in an evening?” Egon reasoned.

“You know good and well it’ll take longer than an evening.” You had already started to sort soaked clothes into linen bags. “I’ll be lucky if I catch you leaving this room before the end of the week.”

“Then, by the end of the week you’ll have a working laundry room again.”

You placed one of your sodden delicates in his hands. “Everything’ll mold if we can’t get it to dry. And I won’t let you test any of it. We’re going.”

Egon grumbled, but followed suit, carrying the large bag of laundry to the car for you while you grabbed your mini bag of quarters. It was his silent compliance as he waited for you to buckle up that made you stroke his arm apologetically.

“I appreciate that you’re always trying to help. Remember what you did to Callie’s Furby?”

He nodded fondly. “The first to be able to talk back. She was terrified.”

“Well, she would fish it out the closet when she was mad. I never had to buy her a diary ever again.” you shrugged.

“Do you still like the jets I put in the bathtub?” he turned to you.

“Of course! You just never notice I have them on because you’re in there with me.”

The drive into town always took some time, bumpy dirt roads turning into proper asphalt after a while. Summerville was still a small town, so the laundromat was never as bustling as it could be. But your assumptions were proven wrong, as a dozen or so cars lined the curb. Either everyone’s washer or dryer started acting up, or the water company had a mass shut off.

Egon moved rigidly through the throng of people in the little space. These were the people, and some of their now-grown-children, who stared at him like he was an alien after moving his tiny family to a run down house all the way from Manhattan. You could somewhat understand their intrigue- the most exciting thing to happen around this place seemed to be community matters. But some of their rumors were outright laughable: you were on the run from the police (ironic if you considered how gossipy the town was), Callie was a monster he made in his lab (she played into that one when you went shopping), you were Soviet spies sent for espionage (fairly dangerous, considering the country was coming down from the Cold War and Egon was very visibly the child of two European immigrants). 

But, as years passed and no nukes were dropped and no infectious diseases spread from your daughter in school, Summerville learned you were here to stay. And they started to enjoy your presence, the few times you’d gone into town to run errands and with everything you did at work. You’d even gotten close to a family or two, evident in how a teenage girl sitting on one of the stand alone machines smiled at you.

“Hi, Mr and Mrs. Spengler,” Lucky waved. Her and Trevor had become close friends, at least the few summers he and his sister had spent while visiting. You had thought it wouldn’t stick- on account of the distance and the time it’s been since their last trip down here, but they managed to stay in contact. Very close contact, you’d been told.

“Hi, Lucky,” you returned, “how’s your mom?”

“She’s okay. She sent me here- ‘cause our washer won’t start.” 

“We’re in the same boat, then. Tell her: once ours works again, I’ll send Egon to check yours out, alright?”

Her grin grew, possibly at the sight of your husband's expression. He was used to you volunteering his skills in repair, though. It proved useful, in a town without any real mechanical service. Here, one just prayed they would never break down or lose power. But it was one of the ways you managed to clean up your reputation in time- Egon serving as an electrician, tow truck, or handyman whenever he wasn’t holed up in his makeshift lab. “Will do,” she nodded.

With that, her dad called her, and she was off. Not before complimenting your nails, though. You made quick work of loading your wet clothes, going through the motions. Halfway through, Egon stopped to pull something out of one of his wrinkled pockets.

It was one of your earrings, delicate and near tiny. “You fell asleep with it on.” he handed it to you.

Eventually, your laundry was done. And you didn’t even run through all your quarters. This called for a Coke from the vending machine- only a can, you both needed to watch your sugar.  The drive back was noticeably more jovial, you had clean and dry laundry, Egon had a new project to consume his time. He seemed to have multiple things on his mind, as he opened the passenger door for you.

“They’re calling today,” he said, almost anxiously. Callie had been calling you periodically ever since she went off to Ohio, of all places, for college. She had stopped after you came back from a visit once she had Trevor, and it wasn’t until after his father left that 1. You learned she had a whole other child not long before their split, and 2. He was an awful husband. After that, you made her promise to always check in with you, especially in the long stretches of time when driving up to Chicago just wasn’t an option. Egon’s been on top of her calls ever since, silently eager to see his daughter and his growing grandchildren. 

At some point, you found him in the living room, mulling around with the iPad you were given some time in the early 2010’s in order to actually see the people getting in contact with you. “You got it?” you asked, squeezing into your typical spot next to him.

He nodded, and soon your daughter was on the little screen. “Hey Mom, hey Dad.”

“Hi, Cal!” Egon had only waved, always a tad shy over the phone for the first few minutes. “How’s everything? How’s work?”

She seemed preoccupied with something offscreen. “Raining hard, here. Ceiling started to leak.”

You frowned. It was never fun to hear that your loved ones were struggling, even if they were small grievances like these. “Does your landlord know? It’ll only get worse as it gets warmer.”

“He won’t answer my calls,” she put her hands up, as if she was ridding herself of the problem, “we have buckets, it’s fine.”

“You know what we’re gonna tell you.”

“Do I?”

“Spend the summer here,” you urged, hearing her groan slightly over the phone. “It can’t hurt.”

“I can’t ask that of you guys. Again.” 

You gestured around the large, under-occupied house. “You lived here. You know how much space we have.”

Callie was silent, deep in thought as you continued. “We miss you. The other day I started wondering if Phoebe still needed Pampers.”

She sat back wherever she was sitting. “It hasn’t been that long.”

“It feels like it! When you’re as old as we are, a day feels like a year.”

“Today has been quite a year,” Egon affirms at your side.

You sat forward on the little couch. “Even Dad agrees. He’s too shy to say, but he always wants to ask you for pictures. But he’s scared you’ll find it annoying.” Egon didn’t seem to be embarrassed, wanting to see the rest of his family as much as you did.

Callie spoke up then, eyebrows high. “I’ll send you pictures, Dad. Mom, I’ll…I’ll think about it, ok?” You’d take that, for now. Soon, Trevor appeared, waving at you both. 

You left Egon to have his time with the teenager. From the other room, you got snippets about a car show, some new friends he’d been making, a cut he got from trying to shave his legs- which was a little interesting. You can remember the first time he had held Trevor. The newborn was just happy to be alive, so awake for only being a few hours old. He took interest in everything Egon had to say, eyeing the shiny buttons of his shirt, the reflective frames of his glasses. In the private of the hospital room Callie was fast asleep in, he revealed to you that he was excited to watch a little boy in his family grow up the opposite in which he did: being allowed to play, get dirty, make mistakes.

It wasn’t until Trevor wondered aloud where you were that you peeked your head around the corner. After switching out with Egon, you settled into his warm spot on the sofa, tea in hand.

“Hi, grandma!” 

“Hi, Trevor. I see the leak was in your room.”

“Yeah, it’s okay. We have buckets.”

You smiled at that, chatting about more things- the show you were watching together, a recipe he was demanding you try, drama in school, before you remembered something. “We saw Lucky today. When was the last time you talked?” you gently probed.

Trevor brightened, if not reddened. “Last night. School ends later for us here so,” he swallowed. “But we’ve been able to talk every night.”

Your eyebrows rose. “Everynight’s an improvement.”

He waved you off. “It’s not that big of a deal.” His expression grew far away. “Is it that big of a deal?”

“She’s been asking when you’ll be back. Maybe you won’t miss her birthday this year.”

Trevor sat up straighter, so fast he knocked his knees against the underside of his desk. He didn’t seem to notice, while you winced on the other end of the phone. You asked if he was alright, but he was too deep in his head to notice. “Oh man, really? I got her a gift. Or a couple of gifts. I was gonna send it in the mail.”

You smiled knowingly. “More reasons to come here. Actions speak louder than words.” Trevor looked doubtful, brow creased a bit.

“What if she doesn’t like it? Like: ‘ohhh thank you Trevor, but that’s super weird. I’m getting a car but I can put the stuffed bear in the backseat’.” He must’ve gotten his anxiety from Egon- he sounded exactly like him in the days leading up to you being asked out. Or so Ray tells you.

“No chance. Every girl would like a gift from her boyfriend.” you shook your head.

Trevor looked at least a bit hopeful. “But, we’re not dating-”

“Mom said to let me on.”

You let Egon have a minute with Phoebe. They always had a special connection- there was no need for anyone to say anything because it was so clear. Trevor gave them their space, and you did too, and it was all okay because he’d been your little guy since birth, literally attached to your leg whenever he had the chance to hang out with you. And Phoebe holed up with her grandfather in his makeshift lab, learning and talking about anything they each had to offer. They really were cut from the same cloth, it was only natural. You can remember her delivery, too. The entire day was hard- feverish three year old, busy hospital, unhelpful and soon to be ex husband. Callie had to pretty much bargain for medical attention in the sterile room as her contractions got worse, let alone to get an epidural. Such an angry start in the world. But when she came, she was so peaceful, not even crying when she was brought out into the cold air. Precious is what you regarded it as, weird was the word buzzed around between NICU nurses. 

For the second time, in the dark of a hospital room while Trevor slept in his shirt, Egon barely whispered that, “she’s already different.” You knew exactly what he meant- and it was nowhere near bad. She was like him.

Phoebe’s room was messy as ever, but it was an organized mess. “Hi, grandma,” she greeted.

“Hi, Phebes,” you saw something round and white in her hands, “what’s that?”

She lifted it to the camera, fairly nonchalantly. “Our ac. He switched it off so I’m trying to jailbreak it.” Ah.

“When can we come back?” she added, clearly having thought about visiting a lot more than usual.

“Any time. You just have to convince your mom. Chicago’s getting boring?” 

Her eyebrows twitched once, the way Egon always does. “In the summer. And, if something happens to our house while we’re gone, the landlord’s responsible. Not us.” she explained.

That’s your granddaughter. “Smart girl.” You paused, noticing something different about her but not being able to place it. “Did you…get new frames?”

Phoebe paused in turn, pushing them up. “Are they bad?” she asked, brows knitted slightly. “I didn’t want to change them, but Mom made me.”

You smiled, “They look great. But, uh, what’s the difference?”

“These hinges are silver. The old hinges were nickel.”

That was definitely your granddaughter. Eccentric, in her own, special way.

Soon, Callie needed her phone back. As you all said your goodbyes, something popped into your mind before you reminded Phoebe that you saw Podcast and he wants her to call him back so they can play their game.

Phoebe scowled over her brother’s shoulder. “I’m banned. Tell him we have to find something else.”

Every time your family called, Egon happened to remember that the iPad had a game or two on it, and he was occupied until it was time to chorale him into bed. You waited patiently as he put it to charge, ready to be forgotten about for a while, and nuzzled into his chest when he returned to you. His sleeping clothes were always worn, but they always filled you with the familiar scent of him which you were much too happy never washed out. 

“Did you have fun?” you asked into the fabric of his shirt. Sure, it was a long and hard battle to condition him out of a gown and sleeping cap in the early days of your relationship, but you’d take what he give you.

He hummed in response. “Level 2801 on Candy Crush today.”

“One higher than Winston.” you gazed in the darkness at a familiar spot by the door, cracked ajar. Callie would wait for you both, as soon as she could toddle out of her bed and needed someone with her when she used the bathroom, or to console her after a bad dream. As she got older, it’s where she brought you both coffee on special mornings, and bounced on her heels waiting for approval to take the car. Callie’s spot. Perfectly between both of your pillows, if you drew a straight line, run a little ragged by bare feet, sneakers, and slippers. “What else?”

“Peter took something from my farm, so I put him and his dogs underground.”

You shut your eyes, though still enjoying your sleepy conversation. “That’s not very good conflict resolution.” He was quiet, and you assumed he had dozed off, you in his arms, until there was a tugging at your earlobe.

“What?”

“Earrings.”

“Thank you, Egon.” Your old man. This was a much smaller life than Times Square, Central Park, Ghostbusters. But it was your small life, with your larger-than-life husband, and you really wouldn’t have it any other way.

[the-heartlines]

offering

rhaegon (+ jacenyra if you squint 👀)| [e. 1.1k] dead dove 🪦🕊️

(ughhhh wrote this in a feverish haze when i thought of aegon threatening to kill rhaenyra’s sons if she doesn’t fuck him and give him a son. this is chapter 1/2 most likely {definitely})

“offer yourself up to me, sister, and i shall spare our uncle. provide me with a son and i shall spare your sons my wrath—my fire and blood.”

rhaenyra glances over at the body of her bloody, unconscious husband for a brief moment. his body sprawled, broken, but still breathing—just barely. 

time slows, her heart beats, thundering rapturously inside her chest, when she turns to her precious children, chained up, bound, and gagged. jace, who already has a black eye, and a bloodied, fat lip, struggles against his, trying to fight for her, for his mother—his queen.  

lucerys and joff clutch onto her younger silver haired sons who are all frozen, rooted to the spot, tears streaks and snot staining their faces; desperate to call out for their mother to save them. but there is only one way to surely save them, to spare them from the fiery wrath of sunfyre.

her utmost compliance. obedience. submission.

she has already been forced to kneel, forced to bow to her usurper brother. and now she will either bend to his depravity or break. 

but either way rhaenyra knows she will lose, so she bites her tongue and stares daggers as sharp as their father’s—the one her half-brother is twirling carelessly between his fingers—directly in aegon’s direction, defiant and damning. 

for he can bend her body into any shape, but she will not break. she must remain strong. for her sweet sons.

aegon’s lips curl into a wicked smile, cruelness dripping from his voice, evilly and equally venomous. “or if you would prefer, sister, i can fuck you in front of them all. make them watch me rape their mother before your sons die one by one.” rhaenyra hears a low and guttural noise, a growl, leave jace’s throat and they both look over at him. he’s shaking his head from side to side, trembling with anger, trepidation and tears now running down his face. 

it takes two of aegon’s kingsguard to hold him back, his hands clenching into tight fists, rage alight in his brown eyes. another tear falls down rhaenyra’s cheek, because her oldest son reminds her so much of his father in this moment. no longer a boy, but a man, strong and resilient, unbroken.

and she must be brave for him, her future heir, be a beacon of hope, an example of how sacrifices must be made for those you love, those you cherish. 

“yes.” rhaenyra hisses through gritted teeth, wanting to shove their father’s dagger into her half-brother’s heart. to eat it. to  slice his throat and spill all of his blood, until there is none left in his veins, but her fire seeping inside, replacing his cold, heartless body with every fiber of it.

“my king.” aegon corrects, mocking her, reminding her of her place, beneath him, at his feet, his beck and call. with just one word uttered from her lips that gives him all the power, everything he’s ever wanted: her.

“yes, my king.” rhaenyra seethes, voice unwaveringly upset, burning with resentment. and it makes aegon’s ego swell and cock harden hearing her say it with such contempt, such malice. her lilac eyes ablaze with enough malevolence to murder him. and he wishes, hopes she will try to. for when he fucks her for the first time, he plans on leaving their dagger near her. just close enough for the temptation, near enough to coax and entice that violence brewing and boiling beneath her skin. 

for once aegon tells her it was he who killed their father, that he suffocated the sick man like it he was suffocated for years, unable to breathe, to think about nothing but her—his sister will want nothing more than to kill him. to tear him to pieces. seek revenge with his blood upon her hands and teeth. and aegon will let her draw his blood eventually, but first he wants to have some fun. 

“you’re a good mother, rhaenyra. choosing your children’s wellbeing above your own.” aegon taunts, climbing from the throne, ascending the steps and moving towards her. “an unselfish and caring queen through and through. on your knees, where you belong. below me.” 

his crotch is eye level with her and rhaenyra can see the outline of his bulge prevalent against his breeches, hard and unyielding. she clenches her hands into fists, wanting to retch, to run. “kiss it.” rhaenyra whips her head up towards him, mouth and eyes wide as a full moon at the implications. but before she can protest with words, he smirks knowingly, extends his hand to her, with a huge ring, as an offering, a truce. 

and kiss the ugly signet she does, with tight pursed lips, not daring to taste the sweat or salt of his oily skin, not daring to let her saliva coat it.

“take her sons back to their bedchambers.” rhaenyra turns her head back to her sons, giving them a small smile, reassuring them that she will be okay. she feels aegon’s heat radiating off of him, and her skin crawls with disgust when he reaches to wrap one of her loose tendrils of silver around his finger, twirling it and twisting it, already tangling her around him. her four youngest freeze in their tracks, but are forced towards the red keep’s entrance by aegon’s soldiers. 

“i will be fine, i promise!” she yells, hoarse, voice cracking, the doors closing as promise echoes off the walls, wondering if her children even heard her. but she must believe they heard her words, because she knows she will not be. but she must be brave for all of them, strong—

“nephew.” aegon says the word haughtily, and now more of his hands are tangling in rhaenyra’s hair, tugging her head backwards harshly. “you will remain.”

jace.

“jace!” rhaenyra cries panicked; his name a plea, a prayer, beckoning her son to her aid, to save her because she’s terrified. and jace, always coming to her rescue, attempts to escape the kingsguard—run towards her. but he’s tangled and twisted into the enemy’s web, unable to escape. an armored fist smashes him in the stomach, making him buckle over, next to daemon, who remains unconscious. “please! no!” rhaenyra begs, trepidation in her voice, and aegon’s other hand encircles around her throat, constricting her oxygen, choking her, further entangling her within his grasp.

“yes.” he growls, anger washing over his face. “your headstrong son,” he pauses spitting the word ‘strong’ out vehemently, “is going to watch his king fuck and breed his mother.” 

and that alone breaks both mother and son, as jace starts uncontrollably sobbing, tears pouring down his handsome face, defeated. and rhaenyra wants to sob, to run to him, hold him close and never let go—but aegon’s hand threatens to choke the life from her. so she closes her eyes instead and tries to picture her son’s boyish face, bright and innocent, held tight in his trueborn father’s embrace. for only those happy memories can save her now as her vision starts to fade and darkness takes hold.

[gabessquishytum]

Hello! I hope you're well. I've had another idea for the Omegaverse Office AU.

Imagine them ten years into the future. They're so very happy, the kids in school, and Dream is still working and still CEO. Sometimes he brings his quite grown up babies with him - Hob needs to do his own things sometimes - and they do homework in the big conference room and then terrorize the entire office, but nobody says anything, because, you know, they're the boss's kids.

And they're nothing compared to Dream and Hob themselves. Over the past decade, these two have elevated shenanigans in the office to a whole new level or five. They are masters of almost being caught because it gets Dream off like nothing else.

They also use it to further business. The company is now worth more than Dream cares to look up. Hob fucks him prior to important meetings with outsiders so they get to sit in the pheromone-drenched room. Some of them just get flustered, some of them downright bothered, but it's always enough for Dream to get out on top of any deal.

For the hardest cases they book the conference room two hours prior and Hob does him on top of the table, glass walls or not. Dream's other employees learn very quickly to not take that corridor before important meetings. The stains are enough to crack even the most seasoned businesspeople.

Then one day it stops working, and Dream can't quite figure out why. Instead of them being bothered, his meetings all end up with him being treated not like the hardened CEO he is, but rather like he's delicate and could break at any moment. Two of them even congratulate him upon leaving.

It's rather embarrassing, really, that it takes them three weeks and a positive pregnancy test to figure it out.

🦒 Anon

YES I love this!!!! Accidental pregnancy except they're middle aged and already have kids has so much scope to be so cute.

LOVE the idea of Dream weaponising his omeganess against shitty business rivals. And Hob trailing around him like a puppy in love decades after they first met. Fucking in the office is honestly their best option because of having so many kiddos running around at home, needing things and walking in on intimate moments. It's unfortunate because according to Dream, Hob is at his hottest when he's tending to their children. He loves watching Hob pin the kid's art to the fridge and gaze at it like it's the mona lisa. Literally nothing in the world makes Dream hornier than Hob being a dad.

But fucking over the conference table while Dream’s slick drips down onto the carpet? That's pretty fantastic too.

So is it really a shock that Dream gets pregnant? Hmm, not really. Hob may have been a little reckless with the condoms and hey, Dream has occasionally forgotten to take his birth control. So the happy accident is certainly accidental, but... extremely welcomed and not a major surprise.

Being pregnant again is both heaven and hell for Dream. He remembers why he loved it so much the first time around. But he's like 10 years older and Hob’s latest baby inside him is still MASSIVE, and he is. Uncomfortable.

Even so, he can't help but enjoy (even as he clings onto his pregnancy pillow and kicks Hob out of the bed) the renewed closeness between himself and his alpha. His whole family, tbh. There are cuddle piles and movie nights, even a babymoon (just for the weekend, while Death watches the kids).

Dream is very much looking forward to going back to work. But. He wouldn't give up his happy accident for the world. And no doubt he'll be bringing Hob right back to the conference room as soon as he can <3

[tranakin-skywalker]

Fuck it, fic rec list time!

I'm bored and can't sleep so here's a non-exhaustive list of some of my favorite Star Wars fics. I'm leaving the really well known ones off, wanna share some of the more obscure gems.

Not Placid Stars But Singularities by iceplanet

He stands before Sidious, head bowed, helmet pinching at the back of his neck where he hasn’t yet gotten the med droid to file down the sharp edges. Sharpness is another fact of life, now: the feel of metal digging into flesh defines his every motion. Given the time and the opportunity, he himself could probably have built prosthetics better than the ones he currently wears. “Your task, Lord Vader,” Sidious is saying, “is to transform this heap of antiquated softness into a palace worthy of our new Empire.” In the weeks after Mustafar, Vader must come to terms with his new body and the remnants of his past. In the process, he has a few conversations that he does not expect.

This one has everything I love: ghosts, mutilation, Vader being the saddest wettest murder meow meow, Sith Lord batshittery. What fun.

Skin Graft by HENST33TH

“ I hurt you.” killed her, Vader's stomach roiled. Bile clawed at his throat as he looked at her. He wasn't making any sense. Her face softened some. “ Dreams…?” she said. Padme thought she understood. It was sick, it was corrosive. He was unfaithful. For twenty years he was unfaithful. He hurt her children. He needed to spit it out. Explain. She deserves it. She needs to know. Vader needed to crack himself open. Padme needed to tear him apart. For her safety. He got out of bed. Twitching with the need. Shaking with the pressure inside of him. Taught like a noose. He stood before her. She placed her hands on his arms. “Then what, Anakin.” Anakin, Anakin, Anakin. Vader sank to his knees. Resting his head against her middle, he breathed. The shame clung to him and coated his throat till he was choking on it. “It’s so much worse than that.” all at once the future loomed over him. Daunting, a beast of its own. How can he explain it? *** Or, Anakin Skywalker gets thrown back in time. He has to learn: 1 how to have a body again 2. To curb his Raging insecure attachment style. 3. That his wife should be the one making the important galactic decisions.

A newer fic that I am quickly becoming obsessed with. The way it's written is perfect. The characterization is perfect. Everything about it is perfect imo. And the ending of this latest chapter. Masterpiece. I want 10 more.

Nameless, On the Edge of Nowhere by Taxonamie

Following the presumed death of the evil Emperor and his hulking henchman Darth Vader, the fledging Alliance stands on the verge of victory! But as they press their advantage against a destabilized Empire and manifest from the seeds of Rebel resistance, can this new government survive their own instability? Among the scattered Imperial forces of the second Death Star, Darth Vader's disapparence is not so final as they would hope. Worse yet, the Rebel Hero Luke Skywalker has gone missing! Alone and disadvantaged, what will Anakin Skywalker do to find his son? Will he walk the razor's edge of tentative alliance with the Rebel Forces, or succumb to the draw of Imperial power? Free from all Masters, can Anakin Skywalker learn who he wants to be, at last? Princess Leia Organa must navigate this minefield of clashing obligations and dripping grudges, all the while attempting to understand a heritage she hates, a brother she loves, and a mysterious mother she cannot understand.

I think this fic is the most successful at bridging the gap between Prequel Anakin and OT Vader that I have ever read. They genuinely feel like a continuation of the same character here rather than a disjointed Before and After.

trust displays by AshToSilver

Rex meets Luke and Leia for the very first time the night they are born.

I love how sweet but also horrifically fucked up this one is. Cannot express how much this fic has influences the way I write the clones.

in morsum ardeo by astarsdarkheart

A fallen Jedi and Lord of the Sith burns in a pyre on the banks of a river of fire. Something else rises from the ashes.

This series rewired my brain. Like, holy shit. Holy shit. I don't think I could ever actually choose a top favorite fic of all time, but honestly? This one makes a strong case for itself. It has haunted me every day since I first read it over a year ago.

Forever War by yujacheong

Vader has trouble distinguishing between the past and the present. Fortunately, it rarely matters in the context of the Empire's forever war.

Love me a good Vader character study.

this place loves what it eats by roadtripexpert

What could be called but isn’t death, or Leia Organa doesn't kill the man formerly known as Anakin Skywalker

I know I've already recommended this one but it is just. So fucking good. The note from my bookmark: Father-daughter roadtrip results in about as much murder and bitching as you would expect.

relieved to live in the wreckage by niniblack

When Obi-wan doesn’t follow Padmé to Mustafar, she’s able to convince Anakin to run away from everything with her. But this doesn't prevent his nightmares from coming true, and he's left alone in a hostile galaxy with the infants she begged him to protect. “Master Anakin,” Threepio says, still hovering in the doorway. “Might I suggest bouncing the children?” Anakin stops pacing around with the twins, head swiveling to look at Threepio. He doesn’t have to ask what the fuck Threepio is talking about; Artoo does it for him. Threepio seems to draw himself up as straight as he can. “I have conducted extensive research on the subject of human childrearing in anticipation of Mistress Padmé giving birth. Holding an infant and gently bouncing them in the parent’s arms is thought to be an excellent calming method.” “Oh,” Anakin says. “I thought you meant… bouncing them on the floor or something.”

The note from my bookmark: Single dad Anakin. Congratulations buddy, no one's ever done it worse.

Send the Whole Damned Thing Down the Drain by handstitchedanarchist

“Are you a conscripted soldier or a battle slave?” General Skywalker asks him one day. Rex thinks about it. And then thinks about it a little longer. And then he has to admit, “I’m not sure what the difference is.” The general looks distant and… sad? “Yeah, me neither,” he says.

This is another one that has greatly influenced the way I write the clones.

Gonna end the list here cuz my meds are starting to kick in and I feel like I'm going to fall over

[jessicanjpa]

Still thinking about which patients Carlisle has lost and can never forget...

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

first

Edward is exasperating Carlisle (as usual) by putting him on a pedestal (as usual). An excerpt from this chapter of 1950, Edward POV. (They're talking about Carlisle's self-control as a newborn.)

"Son, what do you think would have happened if that herd of deer hadn't come when it did? You know I was near the breaking point. What if it had been a human family, instead? With children?"

I winced, unable to imagine it. "You would have fed."

"Yes, I would have. And I don't think I ever would have recovered from that; it would have destroyed me. I can easily see how that desolation would have led to a future similar to the one Alice saw you create."

"But it didn't."

"No, but that was the path I was on. All I'm asking is that you acknowledge that you and I wrestle with the same challenges... the same monster, as you call it. Of course I'm pleased you have found some inspiration because of my own life, but please, Edward, don't put me on a pedestal. I've had centuries to work on my self-control, and it's been just as real a struggle as your own." He paused. I'm going to show you something.

His mind blurred backward through time, past the memory he had recently showed of him struggling briefly with his thirst as he stitched up the girl's arm. Now he was standing in the shadows, trembling with desire as he watched a barber extract a tooth with bloodied hands. Another blur, and he was crouching down in the bushes beside a thatched house that held a woman screaming in labor. Now he was standing frozen in the midst of a crowd, oblivious to the shouts going on around him as he stared, watching two boxers beat each other bloody. Now he was kneeling over the body of a soldier who had just been killed, leaning his face close to the wound and taking deep, painful breaths. I saw that last image repeated dozens of times. I knew I would need to desensitize myself to an extreme degree if I had any hope of practicing medicine. Of course there was no such thing as stored blood back then. I had to go and find it, freshly flowing. I went wherever I thought I might find someone bleeding: saloons, sickrooms, battlefields… I put a lot of people in danger, Edward. I don't know if it was the right thing to do.

"I always thought… why haven't you ever showed me these things before?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't want to give you any ideas."

I nodded sheepishly, watching in fascination as he showed me more of these memories. He really had come close to losing it, several times.

"But the worst time wasn't my doing at all," he said. Now I saw the stone walls of Volterra in his memory.

I grimaced. "Feeding time?"

"No. I was always careful to absent myself during that particular ritual. I was studying in the smaller library one day when I suddenly caught the scent of fresh blood out in the hall. A human man was screaming. I assumed it was just someone having a meal. But the door was thrown open…"

He trailed off, letting the memories speak for themselves. The door opened to reveal Aro standing there, a dripping knife in one hand and a thrashing human in the other. He smiled at Carlisle, tossed the human inside, and shut the door. Carlisle flew backwards away from the man, holding his hand over his nose and mouth.

"The man pleaded for help," Carlisle recalled bitterly. "And I knew enough, from the little training I had already had, to try and save him. But I couldn't touch him. I couldn't even do him the kindness of easing his passing. There was just too much blood, and it was so unexpected, and I was untried… I just couldn't. I was sure that if I moved an inch, toward him or toward the door, my body would betray me. I would feed.

"So I just stood there. I watched him bleed to death on the floor." It was awful. I couldn't even speak one word of comfort to him; I was too afraid to uncover my nose and mouth. He died with his hand stretched out toward me, still hoping I would do something to save him. The accusation in his eyes was terrible.

It took Carlisle a moment to come back to the present. "He was, in a way, my first patient... the first patient I ever lost. And I can never forget his face."

[smallraindrops-blog]

I've been thinking about Nightmare Y/n a lot. So I had 2 questions and some small blurps to give you!

Does he ever seek the help of other gods for punishment? Or does he simply use Nightmares to help him?

Also, would he have his own domain? Like how Zeus has the sky, Poseidon the sea, Hypnos the Realm of Sleep, Atermis the Forest, Dionysus the vineyards and party grounds etc, etc (I hope I got those right)

(Headcannon blurps underneath, and some smaller headcannons for this au sprinkled in)

A headcannon I had for this au is that Hypnos and Y/n do have their children, except they come to be due to Hypnos and Y/n fighting and the Fates interference (Except Phobetor, he's a special case).

With Hypnos having to try and restrain Y/n, he slowly loses the ability to look after the Dreams of mortals. His sisters, the Fates, see this and decide that during one of his clashes, they will give him a child to watch over dreams, so he can make sure mortals can sleep while fighting Y/n. Thus came Morpheus.

(Hypnos had won the battle, and as Y/n slept, he heard the cry a child. Morpheus stood in the aftermath of their battle with only Hypnos to watch over him. Y/n is told much later about his first son, meets him even later.)

The twin came during a friendly spar, much later in the future. Hypnos and Morpheus have solid control over the realm of sleep, and Y/n has gained full control of Mortals' nightmares. However, the realm sleep kept expanding, and the Fates had decided their little brothers family should expand along with it. Thus, Icelos and Phantasos came to be. Y/n had pinned Hypnos down, securing the fact that mortals were to have more nightmares for the year when the cry of infants filled the air. Once separate, Hypnos and Y/n find the twin wrapped in a Shroud of Mist, nightmares taking the form of animals hovered over the babies, seemingly watching over them. After panicking for a bit at the new children, Hypnos and Y/n take them to be clothes and named. They grow up knowing who Y/n is from the beginning. Unlike Morpheus.

Phobetor, however, was born only from Y/n. While Y/n could control Nightmares, he was not the God of them. So the Fates once again see that the realm of sleep needs a new caretaker and help Y/n to have a son with his power.

Phobetor is born from a violent battle Y/n has with his own cult. They had forsaken his teaching and began punishing those undeserving, earning the praise of the Olympians and earning Y/n ire. In was supposed to be a non-violent punishment peaceful scolding, quickly turned to bloodshed as Ares had influenced his cult. They had restrained Y/n with chains given by the Gods and planned to try and kill him. This only enraged Y/n, leading to his divine form breaking out and him killing those who didn't immediately pass from seeing him.

In the middle, the destruction stood Y/n, his blood dripping from him and mixing with his once beloved followers.

From his blood mixing with mortals and the lingering fear in the air came Phobetor, born from his father's Rage and mortals Fears.

Hypnos didn't question Y/n bloody form once he returned to the flower field, simply helped Y/n clean himself and held Phobetor, amazed at how the infant already looked so much like Y/n.

Phobetor, once grown, has full control over the realm of Nightmares, with his father overseeing it and helping him when not tormenting gods and punishing mortals or flirting sparring with Hypnos.

-----

Uh yeah, that was longer than I intended, and apologies for any errors.

I really like this Au and how different the story is to WMFTD. I haven't even touched on my headcannons of Achilles and Patroclus or how Zagreus might react to meeting this version of Y/n, the dynamic the Sleep children would have due to their parents roles.

But I hope you enjoyed my rambles, and hopefully, I'll be able to ink the Divine Form drawing soon and start the other Godly form doodles.

You know, funny thing i was having a conversation with a friend of mine about nightmare Y/N a week or so ago and what he would be like as father. Hint: not good.

But anyway, I enjoy your rambling! Gonna put my response under. Ps. Sorry for taking so long to respond. <3

So as for getting help… I think it would depends on which god it was and why they would want to him. Like if Cronus rolled up offering a hand, Y/N would kick him to the curb bc his whole bitch ass started this.

but someone like Nemesis (or the fury sisters - wait actually Tisiphone and him could totally vibe while roasting murderer on a pike or whatever) could be a possibility if she brought into his cause.

Hmm. If I understand how the domain thing work, he does have a domain over torment. But physically, he is so tightly woven with Hypnos, that he exists within the sleep realm.

but i will leave it up to you!

i love how much time and thought you put in each of the children btw! Feels like it work very well for the setting!

The cult done fucked up ( i forgot to add that fic to the list but it is being slowly pick at.)

but also the fact that the child came from Y/N but still has Hypnos’ irises golden is kinda romantic in a murdery, bloody way. ^.^

also take your time with stuff, I am just happy you are enjoying this so much and I appreciate you sending your HCs in.

<3<3<3

Quick edit.

I always thought that Patroclus and y/n's relationship the most heartbreaking one. Pat just want his son back.

Like y/n feels like he let his parents down and Pat just wants him be okay.

[amazingmsme]

The Moderator and Monster are One in the Same

AN: I really enjoyed writing this, so I hope y'all enjoy! Thanks to the lovely anon who prompted this, I hope I did your idea justice! Not nearly enough castlevania love, & I hope to write more in the future! I'm obsessed with the thought of Trevor & Alucard being turned into a blushing, giggly mess. I just need these men to be wrecked carnally. But without further ado, please enjoy Sypha playfully hunting down her boyfriends to bully them!

Sypha had only been gone for a few minutes, maybe an hour tops. When she had left, things were fine! They were all getting along well enough, and she had even caught a glimpse of Trevor's rare smile when Alucard made a crude joke. So sue her if she thought they could be left alone together.

Because apparently they can't.

"Hey guys I'm back- whoa. What happened to you two?" she asked, gesturing back and forth between them. Her chipper tone immediately dropped into something more serious when she saw the way both men sat on opposite sides of the room, glaring daggers at each other.

"Why don't you ask him," Alucard spat, disdain dripping from his voice. Trevor prickled at his words, entire body tensing up.

"Me? You're the one who started it!" he snapped back, pointing at him accusingly.

"Well excuse me for getting defensive after you showed off your vampire trophies," he said, calm as ever, though Sypha could sense the rage boiling beneath his skin.

"I wasn't fucking showing off! I was digging through some old junk, I didn't know what all was in there," Trevor growled.

"Oh so a necklace of fangs is just some old junk to you? A mere trinket to gift children as a birthday gift-"

"Shut up! And for your information, we never saw this kind of stuff as kids! ...Not until we got older," Trevor added quietly, adverting his gaze.

"Right, that's when you'd come of age as real monster hunters. Bet you already had a mount picked out for the first vamp you'd murder."

Sypha was so shocked at the rate the fight had escalated, just from her simple question. She tried to interject, but each time she opened her mouth, she was cut off.

"Well that's a hell of an accusation!"

Alucard scoffed. "I don't hear you denying it."

Trevor blinked, caught off guard by his words. "You really think I'd do that?" Only Sypha caught the tinge of hurt laced in his words.

"Oh I don't know, the Belmonts seem more like a cult to me at this point. Brainwashing a child to do their bidding doesn't seem all that far fetched."

Trevor's hands balled into a fist. "Well fuck you too!" he yelled, taking a few steps closer to Alucard. "I never wanted any of this! You think I liked having that responsibility hanging over my head all my life?"

Alucard smirked. "Very much so, yes."

"Guys, cut it out!" Sypha managed to cut in, but was immediately talked over.

"You know nothing about me, or my family," Trevor said through gritted teeth.

"Oh I know quite a lot, actually. Based on how you fight, I'm honestly a little surprised they managed to kill any vampires. Even if they were twice as skilled as you, it's no wonder they were wiped out."

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" Sypha yelled over the heated argument, effectively shutting them up. "Seriously you guys, what the hell has gotten into you? I mean, you were fine when I left! Can we not have just one fucking day where you don't try and kill each other?" she scolded.

"Like I said, he started it," Trevor mumbled.

"That doesn't even matter at his point! You two were finally getting along, then I leave and you get into some stupid argument! You guys are honestly insufferable sometimes," she huffed, fingers running through her short hair. "I mean, would it kill you to be just a little bit nicer?"

"Yes."

"Oh absolutely."

"Oh no, none of that! What you said to each other was really fucked up, so I can only imagine what was said when I was gone." They both looked rather guilty, which told her all she needed to know. She crossed her arms, an unamused look firmly in place. "You're both gonna apologize," she demanded, to which they immediately protested. Sypha shushed them just as quickly.

"I mean it," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. They each mumbled a halfhearted apology, which was good enough for her.

"There, now was that so hard?" she asked, tone lighter. "Come on, I need help carrying a few things," she said, walking back out to their wagon where she'd bought a few supplies and food from the nearby market.

It seemed that even the small task of carrying in groceries turned into a pissing contest between the two where they tried to outdo the other by carrying the most bags in one go. As much as it annoyed her, she had to admit it was pretty funny to watch.

She expected things to simmer back down to normal after her return, but things still felt incredibly tense. The awkward silence stretched on for far to long and was only broken when she spoke up. They were in the kitchen preparing a stew for dinner, and the usual witty and playful banter between the three of them was nowhere to be found. Trevor and Alucard only addressed her specifically, intentionally going out of their way to ignore the other.

As she slid the last of the chopped vegetables into the pot, she came to a realization.

"Are you guys seriously giving each other the silent treatment? I mean, how old are you?"

"My mother taught me if you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all," Alucard quipped.

"Oh that's rich coming from you," Trevor snarked back.

"Can you just stop bickering? The fate of the world is at stake and you two are fighting like an old married couple."

"Objection, that would imply that I actually like that pompous dick," Trevor teased. He hummed, looking him up and down. "Though now that you said it, he does look a bit like a house wife," he teased.

Alucard rolled his eyes. "Yes yes, and you look like a filthy slob of a husband," he shot back, falling back into their usual bickering instead of the mean spirited fight form a few hours ago.

Once the stew was ready and they filled their stomachs with warm hearty food, things had calmed down. Though Sypha could still sense Trevor's excessive moodiness and Alucard's quiet brooding. She breathed out a long sigh, grabbing their attention.

"What is it?" Trevor asked, arching a brow.

"I can't take this anymore! You two are supposed to have made up by now but you're still acting like pouting children!" she exclaimed, catching them off guard.

"I'm not pouting."

"Indeed, neither am I."

"Yes you are. But you have got to put aside your differences and contempt for each other if our plan is gonna work. So, I suggest some, team bonding, I guess you could call it."

Alucard let out an annoyed huff as Trevor leaned back in his chair with a loud groan.

"Not this shit again Sypha. Your icebreaker questions are dull and pointless, that we can agree on," he spoke up and Alucard nodded and hummed in agreement.

"No, this is a different kind of bonding. You see, if you spend all day acting like disgruntled children, I see no reason not to treat you as such," she spoke matter of factly and began pacing the floor in front of them. Trevor perked up in his chair, giving her a quizzical look.

"Eh? The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"You two are going to play a game where you're on the same team."

They both scoffed, but she continued. "Whether you like it or not, you're gonna have to start looking out for one another. Clearly you guys need some practice, so I thought I'd give you some incentive."

"What kind of incentive?" Trevor asked.

"Well, we'll be facing all kinds of monsters, so it's only fitting for you to help each other outrun one," she explained.

It was Alucard's turn to sigh. "What kind of monster got inside this time?" he questioned. It wouldn't be the first time a small demon managed to slip in through a broken window or cracked door.

"Oh no, there's no real monster," she was quick to assure.

"Then what "monster" will we be facing?" Trevor asked using air quotes. He took a sip of water, a bored expression on his face.

"Me! I-I mean, the most fearsome beast in all the land," she said, pitching her voice down an octave to try and appear intimidating. Trevor and Alucard locked eyes, a look confusion and amusement shared between them. "A common enemy to both of you I presume," she continued with the theatrics.

"Just get on with it," Trevor insisted.

"I am, sheesh! Keep that up and you'll really be in for it," she teased with a smirk. "Anyways, the rules are simple. You just have to stay out of the clutches of the ruthless tickle monster!" she growled, holding her hands up, fingers curled into claws and wiggling menacingly. Trevor stiffened while Alucard stifled a laugh.

"And that would be you?" he asked skeptically, fangs peaking out behind his smirk.

"Duh. Isn't it obvious?"

"I'm sorry, but you can't expect us to take this seriously," Trevor said, shifting in his seat. She flashed a smile and leaned in across the table he was seated at.

"Oh I'm hoping you don't. It's much more fun when you're already giggling in anticipation," she purred, relishing in the blush that spread beneath his stubble. "All you have to do is avoid getting captured. Should be easy," she said nonchalantly. She prided herself in being able to goad them into doing exactly what she wants.

"But remember! This is about teamwork, so you have to help each other!"

"Yeah, no. We're grown men, we're not playing along with your... silly little games. Right Alucard?" he asked, looking to his right for backup. But he was nowhere to be seen. "Alucard?"

Alucard was already running down the hall.

"Fucking coward," he mumbled, pushing his chair away from the table and stumbling to his feet, racing after him. "Wait for me you prick! We're supposed to stick together!"

Sypha cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted after them, "I'll give you a 15 second head start!" She let out an evil chuckle as she watched them round the corner. "This is gonna be fun." She counted aloud for them to hear before she began stalking slowly down the halls.

Trevor raced down the hall to catch up with Alucard. "Way to leave me behind back there!"

Alucard looked at him out of the corner of his eye and smirked. "Not my fault you wanted to stick around and chat. You really need to learn when it's best to just run. You do know what self preservation is, don't you?" he asked teasingly.

Trevor snorted and rolled his eyes. "Of course I do you ass," he said, softly shoving his shoulder. "I just. Thought she might be bluffing."

Alucard gave him a knowing look. "Oh really? You didn't just want to wait her out until she pounced?"

Their pace had slowed down to a brisk walk, but Trevor came to a halt, nearly tripping over his own feet. "I should offer you up as bait for that," he growled, looking away to hide his blush.

"Hm, can't say I'd mind all that much," he admitted. Trevor nearly gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned to look at him. "Oh don't look at me like that. I know you don't really hate it as much as you claim."

Trevor looked at him, mouth agape. "Wha- no I- I do not!" he stumbled over his words, making Alucard chuckle.

"Why so embarrassed?" he taunted, fangs glinting behind his smirk.

"I'm not embarrassed. A-and we need to get a move on, Sypha could creep up on us at any moment," he said, looking over his shoulders nervously.

"If she does, we can easily outrun her. Not that we want to," he boldly claimed.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," a new voice spoke up from behind.

"Sypha!" Trevor yelped, whipping around to face her. She was stalking down the hall with a downright evil grin on her face.

"Right, that's our cue to run." Alucard grabbed Trevor's hand and pulled him along as he flew down the hall. Trevor could barely keep up with his inhuman speed.

"What the hell happened to that cocky "I don't care if we get caught and tickled to death" attitude?" Trevor taunted from behind. It was Alucard's turn to blush.

"Hey I didn't say it like that!" he hissed. "But what fun is it without a chase?"

"Oh so you admit it's fun? In that case, might as well offer you up as bait." Alucard had no time to brace himself before Trevor pounced. They grappled for a few seconds as Sypha crept around the corner, ducking back behind it before they saw her. She quietly watched their playful scuffle, chuckling to herself. They needed this, especially after their fight.

Trevor grabbed him from behind, slipping his arms underneath Alucard's own and holding him still. Alucard squirmed around with a giddy smile on his face.

"Trevor you dick, lehehet me go!"

"Wow, laughing already? You really do make the perfect bait," he teased. He let a hand drift down to tease Alucard's waist, tweaking his hip. He yelped, a wobbly smile tugging at his lips.

"S-stohohop, we're supposed toho work together!" he playfully whined.

"We are! Can't remember the last time we got along so well!" Trevor taunted. "Now just laugh nice and loud to draw her out. Then, while she's busy with you, I can sneak up on her and we can turn the tables. How's that for teamwork?" he laid out his perfect plan all while digging his fingers into Alucard's armpits making him scream with laughter.

Sypha decided that was the perfect time to make herself known. "Oh that's a great idea. Except maybe next time, don't lay out your entire plan for the enemy to hear. And also, don't hang your partner out to dry," she said with a smirk. Trevor gasped and dropped Alucard like a sack of potatoes. Luckily he caught himself, standing to his feet and sporting a bright pink blush. Trevor's own cheeks matching the hue.

"Sypha! D-didn't know you were standing there," he said, a nervous smile plastered on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"That was your mistake."

They stood there for a moment, just staring at each other. Then, Trevor and Alucard turned on their heels and took off down the hall.

Sypha decided that she had let them run long enough, she didn't want them to be too out of breath, after all, so she muttered a spell and sent a blast of energy in their direction, knocking them off their feet.

"Not fair, magic's totally cheating!" Trevor cried out as he rolled onto his back. He let out a startled yelp when he saw her standing over him.

"I'd argue that using poor Alucard as bait is cheating too," she taunted, squaring down to be at their level and even going as far as to cup Alucard's chin.

He slammed his chin against his neck instinctively, biting his lip to keep his giggles at bay. She noticed and smirked to herself, fluttering her fingers along his jawline. He snorted, the blush on his cheeks growing darker.

"Ihihit's his idehehea! Get hihihim!" he whined. Sypha smirked, dragging Trevor back by his ankle to be even with Alucard.

"Oh don't worry, he has what's coming to him," she taunted in an evil purr. "Don't you Treffy?" she asked, tracing the shell of his ear. He snickered and shook his head frantically.

"Sypha c-cut ihihit out!"

She cocked her head to the side quizzically. "Hm? Who's this Sypha you speak of? I'm the tickle monster! RAAAAH!" she screamed as she lunged forth, scribbling up Alucard's ribs with one hand while squeezing Trevor's sides with the other. They both let out loud, giggly shrieks, curling in on themselves and weakly batting at her hands.

Alucard was trying to roll onto his stomach, but that gave her free access to his back, which she took full advantage of. She scribbled up his spine, eliciting a loud squeal that gave way to helpless laughter. Meanwhile her right hand was busy drilling circles over Trevor's hip. A stream of deep, rumbly giggles flowed freely, only broken up by the occasional snort. He was more focused on shoving his face into the carpet than anything else, only caring about hiding his quickly reddening cheeks.

Sypha threw her head back with a loud, maniacal cackle, fingers flying from spot to spot and sending her friends further into hysterics.

"Aaaw I had no idea you guys were so ticklish! Now I know the perfect way to make sure you two behave," she taunted.

"Ihihi do behehehave!" Alucard insisted the same time Trevor growled, "You better nohohot!"

"Why am I hearing talking when I should be hearing helpless laughter?" she questioned. Alucard giggled nervously, curling in on himself at the threat. Trevor was blushing redder than a cherry and failed miserably at hiding the embarrassed chuckles that poured freely from his mouth.

She slipped her hand under Alucard's shirt and scribbled her long nails against his toned abs. He snorted and tried to push himself away, but she had him sufficiently pinned. Meanwhile she was counting her way up Trevor's ribs, earning a string of creative insults through howling laughter.

"Wow, who knew the vampire and the monster hunter were such ticklish dorks!" she taunted, sporting a wide grin. They responded in unison.

"Ihihi ahaham nohohot!"

"Ohoho fuck ohohohoff!"

"Oh don't be like that! After all, you're so cute when you let yourself laugh," she cooed, reaching down to squeeze Trevor's knees, leaving him kicking and fighting back hysterical laughter. Needless to say, it was a losing battle.

She looked over at Alucard and smirked. "You too Alucard," she purred, skittering up his side, pinching his lower ribs. He shrieked and bubbly giggles followed after.

"Dohohon't patronize mehehe!" he whined, arms flailing around uselessly to try and shove away her prying hands. She tossed her head back with a laugh and walked her fingers up his ribs, drawing out shrill giggles and snorts. She was having fun taking them apart, and she didn't bother hiding it.

"Me? Patronize you? Never," she teased, reaching over to scratch up and down his other side, giving the same treatment to the right side of his ribs. "If anything, I'm complimenting you!" she chirped, crawling her hands up higher until she dove for his underarm. He shrieked and fell victim to shrill hysterics.

"Wehehell quit ihihit!" Alucard giggled, managing to squirm away a few inches.

"Oh no you don't!" she cried as she drug him back by his ankles, which gave Trevor the opportunity to roll away. She easily pulled him back into her clutches, wrapping her arms around both of their waists. Her fingers set to work, digging into pudgy sides and squeezing sensitive hips. Trever doubled in on himself while Alucard twisted side to side, each bursting into loud, carefree cackles.

"Oh you poor, poor things. Far too ticklish for your own good, you didn't possibly think you could actually escape, did you?" she asked tauntingly, scratching just below Alucard's ribcage with her left hand while the right was busy vibrating against Trevor's soft abs. Both men were blushing a rather dark shade of red as their laughter rose in pitch and harmonized. They even started begging in unison.

"Y-you cahahan't dohoho this to mehehe!"

"Syphahaha please! Have mehehercy!"

She smirked as they continued to writhe and shriek beneath her hands. "Oh I'm sorry, I'm afraid your friend has been possessed. She won't be showing you mercy anytime soon," she teased, snorting in amusement at her own silly antics. She really cracked herself up at times.

"Ohoho cohome ohohon!" Trevor half screamed, half whined through his laughter. She looked down at them, taking in their giddy, limp forms draped over her arms and decided they might deserve just a little mercy. She giggled out a sigh, hugging them tighter to her chest. She enjoyed the nervous chuckles that escaped from Trevor's throat as well as the bubbly titters that slipped past Alucard's lips.

She leaned in to plant a kiss on each of their cheeks. "I guess you learned your lesson," she caved, poking their tummies to draw out a few more giggles before letting them go. They were both panting and had to lean against one another for support.

"Remind me what the point was? Other than just giving yourself an excuse to torment us," Alucard deadpanned, but his shy, lopsided smirk remained in place.

"Oh, so you need a refresher already?" she teased, snickering to herself when he helped and clung onto Trevor for protection, not so subtly using him as a human shield.

"N-no, I'm good!"

"Yup! Teamwork makes the dream work, help each other out, yadda yadda yadda," Trevor added for "clarification." Sypha grinned proudly.

"See? My methods are foolproof!" she boasted, throwing her arms around her friends' shoulders. "And don't you guys feel so much better after playing and having a good laugh?"

"Ah, so you did have ulterior motives," Alucard noted.

"You say that like it's a bad thing! You two would've been at each other's throats if it weren't for me," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I would think a thank you would be in order."

Trevor scoffed, "Thank you? For that?" he asked incredulously.

"You're welcome Treffy!" she chirped, loving the way the blush returned to his stubbled cheeks.

"Not what I meant," he mumbled under his breath, letting out a disgruntled and embarrassed huff.

"Seriously though. I hope you guys realize how important you can be for each other, and how you need to rely on someone to have your back," she said, tone growing more serious.

"No, I get where you're coming from. Trevor and I can't let our petty squabbles interfere with a real fight," Alucard agreed. "Even if your methods are a little... odd."

She giggled softly and snuggled between them from where they all laid on the floor. "But the main lesson to learn from this, is that you guys aren't so different from each other. And you actually have fun together! At least when you let yourselves, and you aren't worried about centuries worth of family drama," she mildly chastised. They chuckled sheepishly, knowing she had a point.

"Noted. Play nice with each other, or else you'll tickle the shit out of us," Trevor taunted, still not taking the playful threat seriously despite the fact he had been screaming with laughter mere minutes ago.

"Shut up, I'm serious!" she whined, though she found herself giggling at his sassy remark.

"I am too," Trevor said, drawing the attention of both Sypha and Alucard. He cleared his throat, adverting his gaze to the ground. "Truth be told, I don't like fighting with you, Alucard."

Alucard perked up, shifting ever so closer. "No?" he questioned, voice soft.

"No, not really," he confirmed.

Alucard hummed, leaning on his arm for support. "Well that makes two of us." Now it was Trevor's turn to look at him.

"What?"

"I don't like fighting with you either. But, it just felt... normal to do so. Like, I'd be disrespecting my heritage if I was nice to you," he said, opening up for what felt like the first time.

Trevor nodded as he spoke, "Yeah, I get what you mean. I uh, honestly felt the same, now that you mention it."

Sypha looked between them, a happy smile etched onto her features. She reached out to grasp both of their hands. "Aw, isn't this nice?" she cooed, startling them out of their heart to heart. "See how easy it is to just talk to each other instead of screaming-"

"We get it Sypha!" Trevor groaned before giving a reluctant sigh. "I'll hand it to you; you were right this time. But don't just think you can get away with this," he said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

She shrugged and blew him off. "Oh I really don't think I have anything to worry about," she said, snorting in amusement. She was completely oblivious to the way Alucard's own expression matched Trevor's look of mischief.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Alucard spoke up from behind. A chill crawled up her spine at the warning. "After all, we just had a lesson on the importance of teamwork. Isn't that right?"

Sypha gulped and bolted down the hall.

As it would turn out, Trevor and Alucard make a great team.

[mylas-stories]

You need me.

Yan! Tybalt x Innocent! Fem! Reader

(Cred to @/ cold--carnage for the divider)

(tw: murder, mentions of stalking) A/N: This is a gift for the lovely, @ladyinbl00d ! THANKS FOR THE IDEA :3

He knew how dangerous Verona was, but seeing his darling in the jaws of death realized just how much you needed him.

.

.

.

The smell of smoke wafted in Verona's sinful air, with predators lurking all around. Yes, even in the holiest city, with Jesus and Mary peering down at their misguided children, the lambs of the mortal realm prance around in the jaws of the devil.

But you ? You were untouched, and your boyfriend, Tybalt, knew that too.

"Come on, Ty ! I'm just going to the store !" You desperately pleaded, with your arms around his neck, and your eyes repeatedly blinking at him, already leaving him in your innocent little trance. He knew about how you controlled him. One word, and he'd drop everything and do what you told him. But above all, he wanted your safety. He knew how being with him was dangerous enough, but in Verona? It's practically a death wish.

"This late at night? Come on, doll, be smart about this", his calloused hand caressed your soft cheek, and his other hand laid on your waist. He wanted you close to him tonight, and what's the harm in that? He spent his whole day making deals, interrogating civilians, signing off payments, dealing with his uncle's remarks about the future of the family. Times like those are why he's thankful that only his cousins know about you. 

You were his little secret. His little treasure. And he couldn't let anyone have you. Let anyone even see you. His poor lamb could be eaten alive by ravenous wolves, and what boyfriend would he be if he let that happen? No, no. That won’t do. Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “Ty, I am being smart about this! I’ve been out late at night before, and I was fine!” “You were near people.” “And I’ll be near people now! Besides, we need more groceries”, your hand laid on top of the one on your cheek, and you lean into his warmth. God, you’d kill him. “I’ll come back, untouched, unharmed. You know I will.”  But that’s what he hoped. He didn’t know whether you’d come back unharmed, untouched, or even alive. It scared him, and it beat him down. The ways you’d save him, regain his sanity, made him feel alive. A simple kiss from him would make him change his ways and become a new man. And he knew that good things would end for him. The black cat was always a foreboding omen of death, and he embraced it. But not for you. He couldn’t let Death part you both. He’d keep you locked in his heart, where no one can touch you, and-

An idea sprouted in his mind of barren soil. If you believe you’re so safe in the night’s embrace, he’d just have to show you it's dark reality, and let you run back to his light on “your own terms”.

(Divider cred to lilaquette) You skipped to the beat of the faint music of clubs and looked up at the lights. It was their deceitfully holy constellation. Booze dripped from the stars, and the smoke of the nocturnal lovers’ cigarettes could’ve confused anyone for the smell of a homely campfire. That’s what it was. Home. And, who’d be afraid of home? No one could break in, or hurt their home, not in your mind. “What was Tybalt so afraid about?” You asked yourself mentally. “The night is beautiful, and a time for people to be alive.” You simply reminisced on how you met Tybalt, not noticing a man in a black shirt and ski mask cornering you with one gun in his hand, and the other in his pocket. “Do you need any help with that?” You felt a nozzle on the back of your head, and you froze. You should’ve listened to Tybalt, but where did he come from? Why is he here for you? Never mind that, how will Tybalt feel? He’ll come back seeing you with cuts all over you…. will you even come back home? Your body tensed and shook as you heard a loud “BANG!” and sobbed, until you realized that…you were alive? No pain shot throughout your body, no injuries, and you heard a gun drop on the ground. It was the man that, you assumed, was about to rob you and…. Tybalt? His expression was solemn, as his freshly fired gun was twirled in his fingers. He walked over to you, but you quickly filled in the gap, almost causing the two of you to fall. “You were right, Ty! You were! I shouldn’t have gone out tonight! I-I should’ve stayed with you, and-” “Hey.” His simple words shut down your little ramble. “You’re safe now, doll. This night won’t hurt you anymore.” His arm snaked around your waist, and he pulled you closer to him. “Let’s go home, yeah?” “Yeah….” You leaned against his touch, all shaken up, as he appeared laid back, but was truly excited, but he wouldn’t show that. He wouldn’t show you that he slowly followed you to the store. He wouldn’t show you that he paid someone to scare you, not like he’d have to pay now anyways. He just wants to show you his care, his love. He knew you were going to come to him eventually. He knew you needed him.

(A/N: First Yan!Balt fic on this account, how we feeling?)

[heavensbeehall]

"Catching Fire", Chapter 4

Part 1: The Spark

Chapter 4: Katniss worries the Capitol will force her to have children that go into the Hunger Games. She realizes this is why Haymitch has never married and (I assume) driven people away. The next day, Katniss has to be prepped more and it annoys her that Peeta doesn't (the patriarchy!). Her bad mood causes her to snap at Effie at lunch. Peeta comes to talk to her. She is surprised when Peeta apologies to her for the way he acted at the end of the previous book, saying he was jealous of Gale. But now he wants them to be friends. She asks to see his paintings. They discuss their PTSD nightmares. Then they arrive in District 11 and shit hits the fan.

Thoughts:

-- Katniss's first ideas about having to have a child go into the games is to a) commit suicide and b) run away. I understand the impulse to o flee. To be free. But I'd probably consider some kind of birth control (I don't know what's avail in Panem) or just never having intercourse. I am asexual so that wouldn't be much of a problem for me. Some people have said Katniss reads as asexual to them, and I sort of disagree. It might be just splitting hairs but to me she reads as someone who has not matured into a sexual being yet--probably because all her focus is on simply surviving. But she does seem to have some vague idea of having a life married to Gale possibly in the future, and then when it's presented to her that she will have to marry Peeta, her mind immediately goes to having kids. Also there's the "hunger" scene on the beach but we'll get there.

-- The "fight" with Effie kind of reminds me of siblings or cousins. Where you get fed up and just lash out, but know the person won't hate you later. (They're a team, aren't they?)

Quotes:

I try to enjoy the food like Hazelle said. The kitchen staff clearly wants to please me. They've prepared my favorite, lamb stew with dried plums, among other delicacies. Orange juice and a pot of steaming hot chocolate wait at my place at the table. So I eat a lot, and the meal is beyond reproach, but I can't say I'm enjoying it. I'm also annoyed that no one but Effie and I has shown up.

Aww I hope the kitchen staff didn't get blowed up in the rebellion.

As far as I can tell, they never get up before noon unless there's some sort of national emergency, like my leg hair.

I don't know why this is a line that I never forgot, but it is. Some things just stick with you. Like leg hair.

It's good to feel his fingers entwined with mine again, not for show but in actual friendship. We walk back to the train hand in hand.

This is the cutest thing I ever did read.

Some you wouldn't get right away, if you hadn't been with him in the arena yourself. Water dripping through the cracks in our cave. The dry pond bed. A pair of hands, his own, digging for roots. Others any viewer would recognize. The golden horn called the Cornucopia. Clove arranging the knives inside her jacket. One of the mutts, unmistakably the blond, green-eyed one meant to be Glimmer, snarling as it makes its way toward us. And me. I am everywhere. High up in a tree. Beating a shirt against the stones in the stream. Lying unconscious in a pool of blood. And one I can't place--perhaps this is how I looked when his fever was high--emerging from a silver gray mist that matches my eyes exactly.

When I went to a mental hospital for PTSD, we did art therapy. I was not as good as Peeta. Mine was a lot of heavy black lines.

[melusinezephyr]

a platonic kiss where they’re both covered in blood

Blood did not frighten them, but that did not mean they had to like it. It clung to them, their fingers twitched each time they registered how the soaked fabric felt against their skin. The smell was no better, the potency causing their nose to scrunch in a meagre form of defence. Not all sensations were pleasant, they supposed.

It was the nature of dealing with the crooked, cut them down before they could croak. Bandits, on this occasion. It had just gotten a little messy when the spells had started being cast, dark magic leaping with a hunger in untrained hands had backfired in their face. Quite literally. At least Arval found themself devoid of any wounds of immediate concern, only a few scrapes here and there.

"Professor, I hope you don't plan to grade me on this." It was a mission out of either of their control, but the quip fell from their mouth with ease regardless. They sidestepped one of the fallen, they doubted Zephia had come to any harm but their own eyes demanded proof to loosen the knot in their chest. Stopping a few feet away, they scrutinised her with a head tilt, akin to a cub mimicking a lioness' watchful eye.

kissies! (still accepting)

Being drenched in the blood of another was a familiar feeling to Zephia, with how much she had killed for her Lord Sombron, how much she would kill again, but that does not seem to be the case for the student before him, who shakes slightly as the proof of their vicious deeds drips from their hands.

Would it be wrong of her to say that she was proud in one way or another? It always did delight her so to see someone she was fond of succeed in such a way.

Yes, perhaps it would be wrong. But the least she can do for now is try to smudge off some of those stains that linger, even without a cloth. Her heart twinges as she brushes her hands across Arval's bloodspotted cheeks, some sort of motherly instinct taking over her. Terribly, she could not help it, caring about these children as if they were own. Her own children that she would never be able to have. She places a gentle kiss to their forehead, quietly saying I'm proud.

"No, of course not. But for what it's worth, you did such a good job. Perhaps you have a future in mage work."

[satorusbbygrl]

the stronger you are, the harder you fall

Summary: Satoru Gojo is perceived to be an aloof, careless man. A dangerous one. But there's more to him than people think.

Sheep probably think lions are villains too.

(Also on AO3 )

✧⁠*°✧⁠*

The strongest sorcerer.

That's what people called him. The cocky, selfish womanizing sorcerer with a god complex.

Oh but only if they knew.

His birth changed the entire trajectory of the jujutsu world as everyone knew it. He wasn't even a toddler before people started calling him 'the greatest in over a thousand years'.

So what he was a bit cocky? Maybe it's because he was told he was great his whole life by people who were much older than him. So who was he to care? In his mind, it was merely reparations.

It's the least his clan can do, after they stripped him of his childhood.

...

He didn't have friends.

"The strongest sorcerer of our clan shouldn't align himself with the likes of them."

The children in question were just....children. Children with love and laughter, hopes and dreams. With choices. Satoru Gojo had none of those.

His only purpose was to protect the world from curses. Anything besides that was irrelevant. It was all but drilled into him.

"Get inside, Satoru. It's after one in the afternoon, no need for you to trouble yourself with those that are not on your level."

If he was going to be alone for the rest of his life, he might as well be good at it.

So now, when everyone called him the strongest, he nodded and smiled, going along with them.

But the smile didn't reach his eyes.

__

When Satoru Gojo turned fifteen, he found himself interested in someone. She was pretty, with kind eyes and a beautiful smile. But she was taken out by the Sorcerer Killer—Toji fucking Fushiguro.

Geto had to stop him from killing the man himself.

"He fucking killed her, Suguru! He has to pay!"

Geto's calm but fierce eyes found Satoru's piercing blue ones as held his gaze, sympathizing with his pain yet knowing that nothing he could do would bring her back.

"If you kill him, then everyone will be after you and I don't think you want Shoko caught up in that, now do you?"

The blue eyed boy punched the wall in front of him in anger, tired and angry at the world but most importantly he was fed up with the world of sorcery. He ignored the blood that dripped from his pale fists. He was angry at his family for putting the burden of the jujutsu world on him and taking away any semblance of happiness he could've possibly had. Angry at the world for expecting him to be flawless.

He was just angry at the world.

After that, Gojo made a vow to himself to never love again.

__

Two years later, he and Suguru were tasked with keeping the star plasma vessel, Riko, safe. She was a middle schooler and in some ways, even reminded himself of how he used to be growing up before his cruel reality snapped him awake from his reverie.

He didn't want to admit it at first, but she had grown on him. They had only known her for a short while but surely enough, he started to consider her family.

"We'll keep you safe, Riko. I promise."

A promise he couldn't keep. A promise that broke his heart and had darkened Suguru's. Because now his best friend understood. He understood why Satoru had felt this way in the first place.

The higher ups only saw the strongest sorcerers as a means to an end. And although, he could easily kill them, there would be no point. More of them would just take their place and where would he be? An outsider. Exiled. Unable to make any change on his end.

So he decided then and there that he would protect the future generation of jujutsu sorcery, to see them excel where the conservative, traditional fools of their current world would not.

"Satoru, a teacher? Really?"

The platinum-haired giant smirked, "What? You think I wouldn't be able to teach a couple of teenagers?"

"No." Suguru deadpanned.

If only he saw what Riko's death had done to Geto earlier on. His best and only friend, and at times possibly more than that, was hurting and there was nothing Gojo could do. He was more absent now, more zoned out and exhausted and depressed than Satoru had ever seen him. He was always the one that kept Gojo on his toes. Always ready to reprimand him should he go astray.

But now it seemed it was the opposite. A world where Suguru had lost his way and possibly his mind. The news of his parents' murder surprised the blue-eyed sorcerer. Geto was many things, but a cold-blooded killer wasn't one of them.

"Are you the strongest because you're Gojo Satoru?"

Gojo's eyes were wide, unshed tears in his waterline as he listened to his best friend. What he was saying?

"Or are you Gojo Satoru because you're the strongest?"

He didn't even give him time to answer, probably already knowing it anyway. Gojo held his outstretched, trembling hand in front of him, his fingers aching and sweaty, the mere thought of having to end his best friend's—his soulmate's— life made his gut churn and tumble, the bile welled up in his throat. His eyes burning with hot tears.

Satoru Gojo never felt sick. His endless cursed energy made sure of that.

As he walked off, he kept replaying the moment over and over in his mind, desperate for answers. How did Suguru become this? What was even the point of all his power if he couldn't even save his best friend?

What good was the strongest sorcerer when he couldn't even save the one person who was worth anything to him? What was the point? What was it?

--

Their last words to each other rang in the sorcerer's mind like a record player with the same record on repeat. Kind of like how they do it in horror movies, he thought. It was a sick and twisted memory that plagued him every night and every day. He took overtime, he taught his students, he went home and did it all over again for months. Yaga was ever so observant, taking in Gojo's fake smiles and teases. Plucking them apart like a violinist plucks a string, feeling its vibrations just enough to play the tune, but as cleverly as a professional could be.

Despite his cheerful and aloof persona, the man was living nightmares day by day and no one even knew.

No one suspected.

How could they when he was everyone's resident idiot?

But Yaga knew.

The man used to teach Satoru after all, and a teacher who always cares is always aware. That, he knows.

So when Satoru brushes him off with a polite, yet firm "No thank you" to an inquiry about his mental state, he knew to drop the matter entirely.

You can bring a horse to water, but you can't make him drink.

Gojo kept his feelings to himself, painfully aware that his emotions could create curses and a curse created by the Satoru Gojo could easily bring down the entire world.

He almost laughed to himself. He wasn't even allowed to grieve his one and only or even deal with it the way he wanted to.

So he stayed silent. Jujutsu sorcerers could opt in for therapy sessions, sure, but no therapist could give him the answers he needed. No, what he needed was to reform the jujutsu world so that these things stopped happening. He needed action, not empty words on a payroll. He wanted to make sure that the future of jujutsu was nothing like the world the old geezers created.

He wanted his students to have happiness, to have freedom. Besides, no one was allowed to take youth away from young people.

He knew that all too well.

[mech-a-nical]

Third Eye

Composition: The Resistance

Word Count: 1097

Character Focus: Muse

Opening a third eye is the forbidden apple

Losing ignorance and innocence with one slice

╍ Chains ran along his body, weighing down around his waist, and connected to cuffs around his wrists pressed behind his back and the back of the wooden chair on the stage overlooking the pews filled with people who murmured and whispered as they stared and pointed at him, side eyeing his mom and dad holding each other. Belts were bound around his calves and the front legs of the chairs, and a stun belt was wrapped around his left arm, hidden from view and digging into his skin. His hair was a mess across his face, long strands sticking to his skin with the tears and sweat that dripped down, his struggling proving futile as he remained sat in the chair with limited vision with teeth bared at the crowd.

Three sets of footsteps walked on stage, two crossing behind him to reach the other side, while one walked to the front, covering him from view of the crowd, as the Pastor addressed the church, bringing a stop to the whispers with a raise of his hand. A silence that emphasized on the sobs coming from his mom. Muse’s sobs would have joined the cries but he knew that any cry or whimper would only excite the crowd further and his mom nor his dad would walk up the stage to unbound him, so he remained quiet, the tremors of his body showcasing his fear and anger.

“It is a shame that one of our children has been blinded by sin and taken away from the path of protection and guidance that our God gives to us. We had wished and hoped that our child would be strong enough to see the wrong and pray for help back into the right direction, but it appears that this is much stronger than his young and youthful body could handle, and he needed the help of us, his family. I want to thank all of you who spoke up and noticed, you saved a child by bringing him to us. We could say 'This wasn’t supposed to happen', but God always has a plan, and God’s plan for this child was so that he could see God’s guidance, and God will continue to protect him now and in the future, away from the evil influences with the help of the opening of his third eye.”

His hearing was muffled by ringing and the beating of his heart, but he could hear the Pastor spin his web upon everyone, enveloping his mom and dad in a cocoon of make-believe. He could hear the Pastor’s wife and the Co-Pastor walking near him again, and he looked away from glaring at the back of the Pastor’s head and saw as the other two walked with scissors, ropes, a knife, and a lighter in their holds.

His head snapped back to look at the Pastor when the buzzing of his voice stopped, and Muse’s eyes met his, as the Pastor walked towards the chair to stand in front of him. With rough hands, the Pastor gathered the strands of hair which covered his face, and his head was yanked up forcefully to reveal his forehead. His eyes filled with tears again as he gritted his teeth, eyes that flickered between the three bodies surrounding him, trapping him, as the wife passed the scissors from her hand to her husband. Husband who held his hair in one hand the scissors in the other.

Snip snip snip

Black hair fell in front of his eyes to his lap, as the Pastor continued to gather his hair, even if it was not in the way of his face. A cut not meant for style, only to remove, to chop, to rid.

“We remove the binds that the evil that had made a home inside this boy, we remove the negativity clouding him. This will no longer affect you, child, you will be saved.”

The scissors were traded for the ropes, and the Pastor turned around to address the crowd, holding the ropes in both hands as he held them up,

“These ropes are made of hair, hair tainted with blood from those that tried to fight God’s guidance and got lost, only to die in the darkness when they could have been saved. The ropes, we bless them today, so that they take away the bad away from our boy, so that just like how these people died, the evil dies as well before it takes our child as well.”

He continued preaching as he passed the ropes to the Co-Pastor, who took them and placed them around Muse’s neck, similar to that of a scarf. Until the ropes started tightening little by little, Muse’s breathing picked up as the ropes pinched his skin and restricted his airway, his hands curling into fists and his nails digging into his palms as he made short aborted struggles to escape.

The stun belt was activated, and shocks ran through his body, further enticing the crowd with a show. A show that looked like he was being healed, helped, saved. Instead of being harmed, worsened, and damaged.

The rope remained around his neck, but it was loosened enough so that he was not at the point of blacking out. The end of one of the ropes was held by the wife and she pulled to make sure his head remained facing up, as the Pastor turned around and grabbed the knife and lighter.

With a heated knife, the Pastor cut lines deep enough to scar onto Muse’s forehead, and not being strong enough to resist the fear and betrayal of a young child, he screamed and cried. Cried for his mom, his dad, begged for forgiveness, for mercy, for help, for the God they wanted him to believe in. He begged for the Pastor to stop, but blood continued to run down his face, to mix with the tears and sweats that dripped down anew.

Muse would much later see the third eye that was scarred on his forehead, when he had been unbinded by a couple who healed and brought him down from his panic, a couple which was not his parents, but that would be much later, as the rope was slipped out from the wife’s hand, his head bowed down as he continued to cry and wail, Muse cursed the God they preached, the Pastors who took him away from his life before, and the weakness of his parents.

"Today, he has opened his third eye, and will see the guidance from our Father, our God."

[funnel-webbed-au]

A Sanctuary for Broken Minds

When Lian would inevitably look back, she'd find it hard to describe the feelings that had been boiling inside her for far too long. Anger. Betrayal. Depression. Her heart couldn't pick just one, so she felt them all. Why had she trusted him, loved him even, when she knew of his infamous reputation? She had been a fool, and here she was suffering the consequences of it.

The sluggish drip of her ichor on the floor was a horrible sound, the floor tiles underneath her feet catching her blood and accepting it as if they were long lost lovers. The signs of her torment would be stained there for all eternity, but nobody except her would know what they were or why she hated them so much... at least she had managed to find acceptance somewhere in her mangled and twisted soul.

She didn't know what her existence would be like without that acceptance serving as armor that shielded the shards of her heart and she dreaded to even so much as think about it, so she refused to. Hopefully, the inhabitants of her future sanctuary would be able to ease the inner turmoil that rolled in her mind, but she had never been one to hope. Who was she to hope?

Hope was a feeling reserved for children that had not yet been tainted by the world or hurt by the people living in it, and yet here she was considering it as a possibility for herself. How could she have been so selfish? She knew that mangled, tortured adults such as herself did not deserve hope but she still couldn't give up what little she had left in her soul. She was no kind person... she simply couldn't accept that as the way it was.

Either way, she still made it to the large mahogany door that shielded so many from the outside world and knocked harshly on it; three times to be precise. Every relevant prayer that she could think of in that moment was going through her head in order to manifest it so that a certain Lotus Deity would answer the door, for she knew he'd be kind to her, but was not so sure about the other occupants.

Fortune smiled upon her that day, however, and the one that answered the door was indeed one of the deities she'd recently been praying to. She could only focus on his face for a moment though, as she soon felt herself losing consciousness. He caught her as she collapsed, her strength finally failing her despite her prior resilience, and let out a brief and quiet cuss, shock coloring his features.

There was a brief moment of silence as Nezha held her, simply staring at the wounded woman in his arms. He had not thought that he would meet her like that, having wondered what she was like after he'd seen her repeatedly praying at his alter. He shook his head as his instincts kicked in, then set her down on a sheet of towels. Hopefully, they wouldn't be missed and if they were the owner liked the color pink.

Lian woke up to the sensation of Nezha cleaning her wound without heed for any shame she may have. She could only watch as one of the number of deities she revered cleaned out the horrendous wound quickly and efficiently before using magic to carefully close her skin, hoping that it would end well. With all of that finished, he pulled away with a deep sigh, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I erm... apologize for my haste, xiaojie." He averted his gaze, scratching the back of his neck as a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek. Wow, he really couldn't keep it together, could he? It would have been comical had the situation been... different. His nervousness served him well, however, as it helped Lian realise that he was telling her the whole and honest truth in regards to his sincerity.

"...how could I scorn you after you have assisted me so graciously? My dignity does not matter more than my health, for I am not an idiot." The way that she spoke was formal, but her tones betrayed that she knew him better than he would have originally thought. Although... as such a devout priestess at one of his largest temples, it should not have come as a surprise that they would instantly form a connection upon meeting... one that would hopefully lead to more.