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sunsetthedragon · 4 months

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There is a lot of irony in the best and most functional relationship in Fear Street being Simon Fear and Angelica Fear.

They are “the most evil people in the world” but they love each other more than any other couple in the series.

We respect a good villain couple.

#fear street #fear street sagas #fear family #Simon fear #Angelica fear #They are truly my OTP for this series #Get yourself a man that threatens to kill a bunch of teenagers and calls you his “beloved wife” on the same page

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noodlenoises · 1 year

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5 Analog Horror Series to Keep You Up at Night

Analog horror is a growing horror subgenre, but what IS it exactly? And what is it that makes it so chilling to watch? Join me on this journey exploring five popular analog horror series and what makes them so effective.

What is Analog Horror? Analog horror is a rather niche (but quickly growing!) horror genre that utilizes 90s-esque technology and media to evoke a sense of fear, paranoia, and/or dread. Described as “cryptic” or “vague,” analog horror clips are often presented out of order, appearing normal and somewhat mundane at first and getting progressively more sinister over time. Existential dread is also…

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aetherhollowarchive · 2 years

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sun, moon and spider for all the ros and the other characters if you can, please? would love to learn more about them all

You really went full on, anon :)) Thank you for the ask! And super happy to hear you're interested in the story ♡

🌙 MOON - what is your oc's greatest wish? how far are they willing to go for it?

Eli - Crush Sovereign in the worst possible way. Will lie, cheat, manipulate and kill for it. It’s become a bit of an all consuming though. Will obviously get over it, since they're a RO :P Other than that obsession - finish what their sister started and return the empire to its former glory (there's a reason why it's so whimsically called Summersmead^^).

Keyon - He genuinely wants to make the empire a better place for its people. He’d do a lot for this goal, he’s already sacrificing a lot of his time and energy and often at the cost of his own physical pain and exhaustion. He’d also bribe and kill, but never without Sovereign’s permission.

Rae - This is a tough one. I kept defaulting to negatives: never be weak again, never let others dictate her life. She’d been drifting for a long time, been in a lot of bad places, tangled with some very shady people. Then she met Blythe and she saw something of herself she lost in the other woman. I guess, right now, she wants Blythe to never go through what she had. She’d end anyone who has any ill intent towards her friend.

Blythe - Wants to be her own person, outside her family’s expectations. Well, she ran away from home and sought refuge with a despotic ruler, so I’m guessing pretty far, but nothing criminal.

Thane - Boy just wants to be loved and accepted, a place and people to call his own. Linkin Park’s Somewhere I Belong came to mind: "I wanna heal, I wanna feel like I'm close to something real I wanna find something I've wanted all along Somewhere I belong"

Bonus Angelica - The Chosen One: wanted to change the world. Well, she did pay the ultimate price for it :P Carling Powlett - Chief of police: dissolve the class system. Nobility should have never existed. She’s taking a more political approach. Nothing good started with bloodshed. Alder - Pirate king: freedom. He’d do anything for it, except to put his crew in any danger. They are a packet deal, so to speak. Gytha - The Clockwork Maid: Wanted to make a joke and say she wants to be a real girl. ^^ But honestly she just wants to be seen as real. And another thing that is, surprise, surprise, spoiler-ish.

☀️ SUN - are they a morning person? what is the first thing they do in the morning?

Eli - surprisingly, they are a morning person. They just wake up with that excitement, a brand new day to experience, new adventures and highs, new ideas how to set things right and plot revenge. They’d make a coffee first thing, but it's more a habit than a need.

Keyon - morning person extraordinaire. Wakes up like clockwork and is very set in his daily routines. He enjoys those early hours the most, before the day’s activities take their toll on him. Takes his tea at a nice table by the window while looking over the plans for the day ahead.

Rae - not a morning person, but is not excessively grumpy if needed to wake up earlier than she normally would. She’d take a shower first, and set her prosthetic hand. Then a shot of rum to start the day.

Blythe - a bonafide night owl. Will be tired all day if woken up too early and potentially get a headache throughout the day. She checks on her pets first.

Thane - He is not a morning person at all, but forces himself to wake up at some ungodly 4 AM for an extra hour of training. I imagine he curses his existence the first time he opens his eyes and sees the sun has not yet risen. Then he's off to the training grounds.

Bonus Angelica - The Chosen One: Morning person. Had coffee with Eli - it was basically their tradition. Carling Powlett - Chief of police: Not a morning person naturally, but still wakes up to always be on time at the station. Kisses her wife. Alder - Pirate king: He wakes up… whenever the f**k he wants. Not a morning person per se, but years as a part of a cohesive crew has made him wake up relatively early (or past noon depending the events of the night before). He does a quick walk around the ship when he wakes up. Gytha - The Clockwork Maid:

I couldn't help myself.

🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

Eli - A literal daredevil, so no irrational or mundane fears here. As for the biggest one - disappointing their older sister. It somehow got worse after her death.

Keyon - Biggest fear is dying without leaving a mark on the world. He’s a highly rational person, so I really can’t picture him having unfounded fears.

Rae - Not a lot of fear left when you suffered through the worst of life, I guess. Biggest would probably be losing the few people she let herself get close to.

Blythe - Biggest fear - turning into her mother. She’s a germaphobe, but do germs count?

Thane - Dying alone and unloved as the biggest one that he also does not fully comprehend. Heights for the mundane (and he’s very ashamed of it).

Bonus

Angelica - The Chosen One: Conformity. Not striving for excellence when things get easier/ life gets contempt. Carling Powlett - Chief of police: Failing the people of the city she’s sworn to protect. Otherwise she’s a tough cookie. Alder - Pirate king: Losing his crew or freedom, in that order. A bit of a claustrophobe. Gytha - The Clockwork Maid: Being discarded.

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famefckrmoved · 11 months

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❝ i can't help but think that i just don't care what happens to them if it means my darling girls will come back. ❞ angelica says, a dismissive wave of her hand as she turns to look in the mirror leaning against the wall. oh, what she would give for the ritual to work and to be reunited with her daughters. she would pay any sum for it, truly do anything required of her to cheat death and bring them back.

@nadinehunt

#╰ ––––––– ✧ angelica fear : ic ❨ modern verse ❩#╰ ––––––– ✧ contact list : ic ❨ nadine hunt ❩#╰ ––––––– ✧ ic : queued ❨ away from the keyboard ❩˙#nadinehunt

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ghcstao3 · 4 months

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Pirates!Ghoap au (I can't stop thinking about it - or about any other au but this one is so dear to me)

Hope you have a nice day ☺️

sort of inspired by the jack sparrow and angelica scene in potc stranger tides. because that is where my mind goes when Pirates

Ghost has spent many years cultivating his reputation as a revered, feared pirate, and for just as long he's had several people try to challenge that. Try to challenge him. Of course, they never succeed in such endeavours, but this is much different. This is a first.

No one has ever tried to impersonate him before.

His crew had just made port in one of their more frequent haunts, having barely gotten the chance to step foot on land before an old acquaintance is greeting Ghost with surprise—everyone thought he had already arrived, had already been drinking and picking off the idiots trying to fight him. Had already been spreading rumours of his next voyage; a teasing invitation, a dare for anyone to follow.

But obviously, such is not the case. It can't be, when Ghost is here, fresh off his ship, standing among the few men and women in this world that he trusts—not an ale nor scrap in sight.

So, rightfully confused, Ghost orders his crew to hang back while he investigates, and puts an end to whatever charade this may be.

Despite the piece of skull that obscures the lower half of Ghost's face—all part of his reputation, mostly, and he's glad to have it spark debate on whether or not the skull is real, and whether or not he's human—it's relatively easy to go undetected as he makes his way through the port village, his presence entirely unnoticed as he slips into the tavern that caters most to his... profession.

And just as it's not difficult to sneak around, it isn't hard to spot his impersonator; they're the centre of attention at the tavern tonight, and though Ghost can commend the guts it takes to attempt such an act, he's honestly offended that so many people believed it was really him.

Though, with as drunk as the crowd is, and if he squints just enough, Ghost supposes he could see how the mistake was made. Even still, Ghost isn't particularly pleased with the situation.

He hovers at the sidelines, melting into the shadows as he waits for the fake "Ghost" to catch his eye.

Ghost knows the moment they do, when he watches as they utter some excuse and make their leave. Ghost only follows with his eyes, at first, before deciding to push away from the wall, skirting along the edges of the crowd toward to the door the fake "Ghost" had exited through.

It leads to the back alley wedged between other buildings and darkened cobblestone streets. It reeks of refuse, and it's to no surprise of Ghost's own when moments after the door shuts behind him, the point of a cutlass is threatening his jugular.

He doesn't flinch, only shifts his gaze disinterestedly toward the owner of the sabre.

"Don't think you have much of a right to be doing that," Ghost drawls.

His imitator doesn't move for a long moment, cutlass held steady at Ghost's throat. Even in the dim light, Ghost can tell their eyes are blue, and suddenly he's again offended that this disguise was actually passed off as him.

Then the sword is finally lowered and sheathed. The fake's own tricorne and mask are removed (the skull is fake, Ghost thinks, no question about it), revealing a hideous hairstyle and a charming, shark-like grin.

"Was hopin' I might eventually get to meet the real Ghost," the man says, his voice tinged with genuine excitement.

Ghost... hadn't expected that.

"How long have you been doing this for?" Ghost demands, now irritated more than anything.

The man shrugs carelessly, casually, not in the slightest bit deterred. "Not long enough to damage your reputation, if that's what you're worried about. If anything, I've strengthened your reputation," he insists. Then he's offering his hand out to Ghost. "I'm John, by the way."

Ghost barely spares the gesture a glance. "I don't care. Why?"

John at least has the decency to act sheepish this time. "I had a proposition for you. Needed to get your attention somehow."

Ghost raises an eyebrow. His hand instinctually drifts to the pommel of his own sword. "And?"

John's gaze flickers to the movement and he hesitates, but only minutely. He then lifts his chin and rolls back his shoulders, and Ghost can almost see how John could have the gall to pull off the charade he had for who knows how long. "I want to join your cr—"

"No."

John scowls. "I wasn't finished," he snaps. "I want to join your crew. And if you let me, I can get you to that fountain of youth I hear you've been searching for. I swear it."

It's Ghost's turn to frown beneath his mask. Why would John want to help him for the measly reward of sailing with Ghost and his shipmates? Sure, some have called it an honour—but in exchange for guidance to a reward so mythical? There must be a catch. It doesn't make sense otherwise.

Ghost narrows his eyes, fingers curling around the pommel. "How can I trust you to make good on that promise?"

That toothy grin reappears, more mischievous in nature than Ghost is comfortable with. It warns him of trouble.

"S'pose there's only one way to find out," John muses. "Otherwise I might just continue what I've been doing. Maybe hitch a ride to another island, pretend to be you some more. Hurt everything you've built up. I've fooled enough people so far."

It takes a lot of restraint not to pull out his sword, and fight John right in the alleyway. But the man's right, as deranged as he may be—it's either bring him along, or continue on a fruitless journey to a place that may not even exist.

He doesn't want to accept the deal, but he can't afford to have John ruining his life's work, either.

With great reluctance, Ghost agrees to let John join his crew—he figures it should only be temporary, at best.

"I find out you're lying, I'll gut you," Ghost hisses, only once it's been settled. "I've yet to see a man capable of swimming with his intestines hanging out. Maybe you'd be a first."

John's grin transforms into something else, something Ghost can't quite place.

He hums. "Maybe. But I don't plan on finding out," John says. He nudges Ghost away from the tavern's back door before pushing it open, gesturing his arm out as if beckoning the pirate to enter. Then in a lowered voice, a tone Ghost isn't quite sure how to feel about, John purrs, "Captain."

Ghost is already beginning to think he had made the wrong choice.

#ask #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe #writing

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yaeggravate · 2 months

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I wanted to collect my thoughts on the newly released book Perinheri, focusing on the usual overlooked suspects such as Kaeya, the Seelie and the connection to Princess Fischl.

TL;DR: Kaeya is (probably?) not cursed because he's half-Seelie

I strongly recommend reading the book first, which you can buy in Fontaine's book shop. Link to the official website here.

Perinheri is "based on a legendary story known throughout Khaenri'ah, but there are none left who can verify this." Ok, first of all, Kaeya and Zhongli are right there, you even put their names in the book!! Second of all, Khaenri'ah is only ever referred to as the "Kingdom" throughout the rest of the story. 🤨 Most likely because it went by a different name back then.

I think most people are aware this book is probably connected to Arlecchino because of her constellation Ignis Purgatorius which is Latin for Cleansing Fire. In the book, the titular Perinheri is made to crawl through a dark corridor filled with ash. He is pulled out of the other side, "reborn".

This fits with depictions of Purgatory:

The faithful dead go through the furnace and once purified ascend towards Heaven. Some of the faithful are plucked by angels, the result of intercessory prayers.

That being said, I don't really want to dig into the Arlecchino connection too much, since we'll find out what her deal is in a few weeks anyway, and with story spoilers running rampant, it won't be much fun anymore.😮‍💨

FALLEN SEELIE

But isn't it fascinating how one of the characters' name is Angelica who guided Perinheri out of a subterranean realm?

Kaeya has connections to the Seelie who are equated to angels in the game. Brief summary here, but the meat of it is that Kaeya most likely has Seelie roots and Nabu Malikata's last name can mean "angels" plural in Arabic. This wordplay tells us Angelica is without a doubt a Seelie, or at the very least someone belonging to the angel category. (The Jinn, for example, are descendants of the Seelie.)

What's funny is that Kaeya owns a book called The Adventures of Angelos, that he deliberately showed to the Traveler. Dude has been dropping hints since the very beginning! It's almost as if he's important to the plot or something.

Perinheri reveals the curse laid on Khaenri'ah is not unique to them and affects those who have forsaken or betrayed their god. There are a few other instances in Teyvat's history that have people turning into beasts, but no further information was given which made it hard to tell how it was connected to the curse of the Cataclysm.

Ukko, the last survivor of the fall of Sal Vindagnyr, was turned into a Frostarm Lawachurl. His final recorded words were of him asking for the destruction of the world as a last middle finger to the gods.

Didn't work.

Shiruyeh, Liloupar's grandson, fell into the abyss thanks to the behated lamp's machinations, and brought back a plague to Gurabad, which turned his people into wild creatures without faces.

Something interesting is that one of the six sins of the Akademiya is to revere gods without acts of devotion. Perhaps the other sins are connected to the conditions of the curse as well:

Cyno's Character Story 5 To prevent researchers from being devastated by their own knowledge, the sages laid out six cardinal sins. They held that all the crimes in this world derive from these six sins. The first is to interfere with human evolution; The second is to tamper with life and death; The third is to delve beyond the universe; The fourth is to investigate the origin of words; The fifth is to revere gods without acts of devotion; The sixth is to attempt the forbidden and fear none.

According to Angelica, the "pure-blooded" (for lack of better word) aristocracy of the Kingdom persists because any offspring they have with those who forsook their god will be affected by the curse as soon as they venture outside.

The witch, Angelica, explained thus: "Hleobrant is the descendant of those who forsook their god and came to the Kingdom. This is why the Kingdom's obstinately pure-blooded aristocracy persists. This is the price of betraying your own god."

The implication here is that the Kingdom seems to be protecting its people within its borders. Those who have come from another world like Perinheri are also curse free.

Angelica herself is not affected by any curse. It's hard to say if she was telling the truth here but she claims to have come from a nation that was defeated by Zhongli. Keep in mind, it's possible that she was only saying this to cast herself in a more favorable light by disguising herself as a fellow god-hater.

Whatever the case, since Angelica is most likely a Seelie, who were cast down by the heavens for reasons unknown, we have to analyze her words a bit more carefully.

The Seelie were also cursed after all.

Arama: Seelies are just empty husks that race left behind. This is because they were born with a curse: If they fall in love with Nara, they shall lose their intelligence and strength, and their bodies will regress.

Explains why Angelica led Hleobrant on and to his demise. Not unlike a certain other Seelikata we know.

Angelica: As for you, Perinheri, you are one who drifted there. Thus, you bear no such curse. You may not have the nobility to shoulder a world, but you too have your own destiny. And as for me? I betrayed no one, not for a moment, until my god died, so I too bear this curse not. But you now see who I truly am, yes?

"Until my god died." If Angelica is a Seelie, then who would her god be? Istaroth? A moon sister? Both? Something to think about…

As for why Angelica did all of that...No idea. Maybe she was just being a little silly. Haha, get it? Because Seelie means silly. But guiding people with a promise of a reward only to lead them into a trap sounds eerily similar to what Kaeya did in his story quest... and in the manga.

It's because he's silly 😂!

ANGELS GEORG

How exactly Kaeya is connected to Seelie is unknown but the character of Kaeya is partly based on Hagen/Högni who is himself half-human/half-dwarf or half-elf. If Kaeya is also half-human then mayhaps the other half could be Seelie.

If Kaeya is half-Seelie, it would explain why he isn't cursed: Angelica. Angelica never betrayed her god. If Kaeya's "pure-blood" father, had a child with a Seelie who never betrayed their god, then maybe the curse wouldn't transfer to Kaeya. This is just one suggestion because we have no idea why the curse gives immortality to pure-blood Khaenri'ahns and if it can be passed on or not.

(As an aside, Kaeya's father is most likely cursed. Kaeya said his hand writing was atrocious, which implies his hands were losing dexterity like Chlothar's.)

I'm aware of the technicalities and the plotholes here such as "uhhh aren't Seelie all empty husks" and "don't they regress if they fall in love"?? Well, we know at least there were survivors out there, meaning there might be loopholes. Columbina, Nabu Malikata, and maybe even Nicole are all characters who weren't husked to floating eye state.

And of course there is Angelica, whose name I joked about being Kaeya's mom's name long before this stupid book came out. 😮‍💨 RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS, ARE WE, HOYOVERSE EMPLOYEE READING MY BLOG

(It could also be that Kaeya's mom was a descendant (Jinni) or scion of the Seelie instead, which I have talked more about here.)

Another alternative is that he's something akin to Perinheri: a child who drifted from some destroyed world. This doesn't seem likely though. Kaeya has the patented star shaped pupils that are more prominent in official art than in the game.

I will say however, that Kaeya's pupils are very different from other Khaenri'ahns such as Dain, Halfdan and Clothar. His pupils are similar to Pierro's which are also "solid". Maybe Pierro is in a similar situation as Kaeya.

Kaeya is in part based on the changeling prince from Midsummer Night's Dream. Changeling in this context means a human child raised by fairies... The title of the Harbingers' trailer, Winter Night's Lazzo, is probably a nod to this play…

In Scottish folklore, the Seelie have a darker counterpart: the Unseelie. Unseelie haven't been mentioned in the game yet, but it's likely they do exist. Perhaps they're the fallen angels, abyssal creatures or even the pure-blood Khaenri'ahns. It's hard to say without more information.

The Seelie Court is ruled by Titania, the Fairy Queen from Midsummer Night's Dream. While the Unseelie Court is their cold, somber counterpart, described as a winter's night...

Fischl's princess outfit is called Immernachtstraum which is also a nod to Midsummer Night's Dream. It's like Fischl and Kaeya belong to the Seelie, also known as the Summer Court, while the Tsaritsa belongs to the Unseelie, the Winter Court.

Getting off track here, but whatever's going on with Kaeya is connected to Princess Fischl and it's difficult to talk about either of them without acknowledging their strange bond.

Lastly,

Kaeya's Character Story 4 Sinister thoughts flashed through Kaeya's mind, and he simply smirked: "This world is truly… fascinating."

Why say world, why!? He just had to throw that in to confuse us even more!

Recently I found out that Kaeya took the traveler to the nameless island on his birthday. No one would go to such lengths if the place wasn't important to them. This island has a ravaged moon-or sundial belonging to the God of Time. The platform on the island can also be found in two places in Dragonspine; the Mural Room and the Secret Room. What the purpose of these things are is unclear, (my guess is elevators), but the Mural Room just so happens to have a painting of a giant angel on it.

The fact that the island is shrouded in mist, hidden from the map, implies someone very powerful brought Kaeya and his father to Mondstadt. If Kaeya's mom was a Seelie then perhaps she was the one who brought them above ground. I can also see a scenario in which a fellow brethren of hers might have helped out.

Such as, I don't know, someone with connections to the Seelie and Dawn Winery. Like Nicole or Columbina, who just so happens to be part of the Fatui… Someone must have given Crepus that delusion after all. 🤷🏽‍♀️

(Venti was taking a power nap at the time, so it can't be him.)

IMMERNACHTREICH

A while back I proposed Fischl might have been a ruler of Khaenri'ah. And now Perinheri has dropped more crumbs unto our laps.

Princess Fischl is the ruler of the Immernachtreich, which is appointed as the future realm of Fischl. This is an important distinction because it means this Realm wasn't always hers. The Immernachtreich is described as an otherworldly place where everything will eventually flow into.

Mitternachts Waltz Everything in this world must pass through the doorway of their destruction unto the future kingdom of the Prinzessin. In the silence of her pitch-dark Nachtgarten would they find a place to slumber.

Flowers for Princess Fischl: Phantasmagoria Every good, bright and noble thing must eventually fall to inexorable entropic destruction, and the final destination of the universe is the realm-in-waiting of the Prinzessin, Immernachtreich.

More About Fischl: To condemn the guilty, to sanctify the just, and to draw all castaway dreams into the embrace of the infinite Immernachtreich.

Something about that sounds familiar!

Perinheri Vol 1 Due to the Kingdom's unique position, things from outside this world were always leaking into it. The Kingdom's weapons would wipe out the calamities slipping in, but what of all the other objects? Such as, say, a child who may have come from some destroyed world?

A child from a destroyed world leaking into an underground Kingdom and the Immernachtreich, another subterranean realm, the doorway of their destruction.

Both realms are welcoming to castaways.

The annoying thing is that it's unclear if Khaenri'ah is the same as the Immernachtreich since Fischl describes her Kingdom as a "small and forbidden paradise". Perhaps Fischl created a subset within the underground realm that kept people safe. At least for a while.

She did after all create a Sommernachtgarten, or Summer Night Garden, that is referenced in the domain Midsummer Courtyard. See, I didn't just mention the Seelie Summer Courts for no reason; Fischl might've been the princess of the Seelie/Angels. But there's little else to corroborate that other than the wings on her back and the Seelie like emblem on her waist...

Anyway, Fischl can see the threads of fate and has seen the causality of worlds too numerous to count. As we all know, she created another universe and founded paradise. This other universe might be a new branch that split off from the parent timeline.

In other words a parallel universe.

These branches are referenced in the description for Mitternachts Waltz, so I'm not just pulling this out of my ass.

Even the branch of the tree of time upon which the great and glorious Reman Republic nested would be cut off in the end, such that the nation founded by the other twin child of the wolves might rule.

Perhaps this is also what Perinheri's world was. Maybe the various destroyed worlds were branches that got cut off...

Another interesting similarity is that Fischl ran into a bunch of fate-resisting royals who devolved into beasts after denying her status....

Flowers for Princess Fischl (I): End Time Zersetzung When the lone pilgrimaging princess reached the kingdom of eternal twilight, the fate-resisting royals chose to deny everything in their desperation. They refused to recognize Fischl's noble stature and mission as the princess of the Immernachtreich; denied their 13,000-year lineage as a branch of the royal family; and forsook their own nobility and restraints as humans… devolving into clumsy and vicious beasts.

Huh, it's just like Angelica said 🤷🏽‍♀️. Kingdom of Eternal Twilight might be the "Kingdom" from Perinheri and the fate-resisting royals is code for those who forsook their gods. However, Fischl wasn't without sympathy and took it on herself to protect the Immernachtreich.

Narrator: The Prinzessin harbored much sympathy for all living things, and wished to never see them in pain. She harnessed the power of darkness and dreams to weave the night, and gave it the task to safeguard all living things. The people celebrated and worshiped the Prinzessin's authority, and followed her call to migrate to the sacred land that would eventually be known as the Immernachtreich. We established a nation on the Holy Land, revered the Prinzessin as The Absolute One, and introduced poetry, theater, and adventure to the Kingdom, laying the groundwork for the Immernachtreich.

One final stray thought:

That giant crying left eye on the cover may or may not be the same as Fischl's left Auge der Verurteilung, which caused her great agony due to its ability to pierce through the heart of all truths.

It could also be Fischl's enemy, the World Beast, a night-patrolling beast named "World", who casts a greedy eye on all dreams...

Perinheri The crimson moon, hanging high in the pitch-dark night sky, suddenly turned around, revealing itself to be a titanic, horrified eye.

About Us: Shooting Down the World Beast You seem to be troubled...? Oh traveler, you need not be perplexed. With my left eye, this "Auge der Verurteilung" that penetrates the threads of karma, I keep watch over your fate; with Oz's crow-eyes that have witnessed the nirvana of a thousand worlds, he observes your way forward. If the ferocious night-patrolling beast named "World" casts a greedy eye on your dream, then I will shoot it down with my Magic Arrow of Holy Retribution!

#genshin impact #kaeya alberich #princess fischl #this is a little jumbled but whatever i'm tired #.txt #lore bytes

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netherfeildren · 1 year

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FEAR OF GOD : Chapter II : Although a monster [Joel] could be charming in company

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Content Warnings: Angst, possessive behavior, unprotected sex (there are no condoms in the apocalypse, only vibes), oral sex (f!receiving), squirting, brief non-graphic descriptions of medical procedures / illness, brief discussion of avoiding meals (no reference to any sort of ED), stupid! Joel ™️

Summary: Joel gets a little stupid and a little jealous.

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: I wanted to mention that that I've altered the timeline a smidge to benefit my own whims. So the Joel we find here is about 50-51 and our reader is in her mid to late 20's (cw: age gap 🤓) Everything else in the timeline is the same up until Joel and Ellie return to Jackson.

Another thing, I hella make shit up in this chapter. I talk about a surgical device and there’s discussions of like mechanical/electrical engineering? which I know fuck all about. So if it reads as nonsense I sincerely apologize. There’s a fair bit of character/world building in this ch. so I hope you all can bear with me for a smidge. There is the gift of porn at the end though >:)

Chapter title is from Anne Carson’s Autobiography of Red (my favorite book in the whole world which everyone should read). Art is Intimacy by Angelica Alzona

Word count: a whopping 9.6k (I'm so sorry 😭)

Read on AO3

CHAPTER II: Although a monster [Joel] could be charming in company

What it looked like?

Like fucking the forest for once birdless, beastless.

Like measuring the distance between all that’s lost

and everything else that, even now, waved at

hard enough sometimes,

will sometimes wave back.

But it felt like swallowing the sea–

being forced to, ships and all.

Then a silence as vast as it was particular.

The like holding a mirror up to Apollo

and expecting his face there, when Apollo’s always been

faceless, obviously, being a god.

And the hand still holding the mirror up anyway.

And the face not showing.

-Carl Phillips, Star Map with Action Figures

“I mean, yeah, I’d fuckin’ like to think so. I’m not sure. She told me –”

“Ellie, you’re overthinking the hell out of it.”

“I am not,” she grumbles.

“You’re a dumbass,” you deadpan.

That riles her up. “Me?! You!”

“What’ve I done? It’s pretty obvious what’s happening here – Dina wants you to ask her out – you’re too chicken shit to step up.”

“Okay, genius. Y’don’t know what you’re talking about, first of all.” The sass on this girl, honestly. The two of you sit together at the picnic tables that’d been set out in the town center for the monthly barbecue. “You think you’re so damn smart. Well lemme just ask you this, what’s going on with Joel? You two’ve been weird as fuck lately.” That shuts you up quick.

“Don’t even start with that. The answer is nothing.”

She gives you that knowing look of hers, but let’s it go. Silently says: I know this hurts, so I won’t push. Out loud: “You started it, motherfucker.” You yank on her bangs, and she swats you away. “Maybe I should call you a fatherfucker instead,” she cackles.

“Oh my god, I actually hate you.” You try and swat her back, yank on her bangs again.

“What’re you two schemin’ about?” Joel’s voice comes from behind you.

“Speak’a the devil,” she says under her breath, starting to gather up her empty plate.“Nothing–” She shoots up, and brushes past, “Gotta go. We’ll talk later,” not even sparing him a glance. You look between the two of them wishing there was anything you could do to help them bridge this cold distance between them. She turns before walking off, gives you the finger behind his back.

“Ellie, hold on a sec,” you call after her, but she’s off.

“It’s fine,” Joel says. “Leave it.”

“I’m sorry,” shielding your eyes from the bright sun, you look up into his serious face.

He shakes his head. “Nothin’ for you to be sorry about. Ain’t got nothin’ to do with you.” And that stings. Off-handedly as it’s said, it stings that he thinks their rift doesn’t affect you, make you hurt for the two of them.

How could he ever think that after everything he’d told you about Sarah – a night that’d made you feel closer to him than ever before, while you two lay in bed, still damp and trembling – that you’d not worry about his relationship now with Ellie? Who you knew he loved like a daughter, even if he was incapable of saying it out loud. How could he think it had nothing to do with you now? After what he’d told you about himself in the aftermath of Sarah. That moment, his confession, could sustain you for a lifetime of this push and pull if necessary. With trust like that, what else mattered? Very little, you thought.

“You get everything done you needed to?” he threads his fingers through the hair at the nape of your neck, and bends to press a soft kiss to your temple.

You sigh, basking in this small tenderness he offers you after his casual hurt. “Yeah, we finished.” Sometimes you wonder if there’s something wrong with you, taking all this in stride. Luxuriating in his offerings of tenderness and vulnerability one second, swallowing the way he casually brushes you off another. Surely there must be something wrong with you. Especially because, when it comes down to it, you don’t really care as much as you think you should .

“How’d it go?” You’d had to debride some areas from Mr. Schwartz’s diabetic foot this morning – super fun for the both of you . The foot was famous in Jackson. A great source of shrieks and giggles when the old man decided to pull it out in front of the kids as his so-called ‘party trick’. We all gotta bring something fun to the table, honey, he’d tell you when you tried to put on your false tone of admonishment with him.

“Long – I had to take more than I’d initially thought I’d need to.”

“He alright?”

“Resting now… Just means it’ll be harder for him later on – take longer to recover, as best he can, in any case. And ideally, what he really needs is a boot – which we have – one… but it’s not in great condition. I don’t even know if it’ll fit him – or a wheelchair, and both of them are being used right now. So, seems my only other option is to order him into bed until I can figure something else out. And of course Connie’s all, this is on you, honey. I trust your judgment, honey. ” You deepen your tone and scrunch your brow trying to inflect Connie’s baritone. “As if that’s helpful.”

He grips your chin, forcing you to take a breath, brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, and your eyes flutter shut, pressing a tiny kiss to the pad of his thumb. He hums a little, and you catch the flare of heat in his eyes. “You’ll worry yourself half to death, little bird. Take a breath.” You huff a small laugh. He was right about that, worry was heavy on your mind recently. About lots of different things.

“I fixed you a plate,” you divert.

“You didn’t have to do that, sweetheart. Thank you.” He swings his long leg over the bench to sit astride it, legs open to pull you between his thighs.

“S’alright. I was getting Connie’s anyway.” He digs in, and you card your fingers through his thick hair – overly long now, it brushes the collar of his shirt in the back, you’ll need to cut it for him soon – and watch the thick column of his throat ripple as he swallows. You press your thighs together – the sun is so strong today. You think it might be making you a little delirious.

“You’re not eating.” It isn’t a question, posed more like an admonishment, paired with the severe crook of his brow.

“Nah, I’m alright. Can’t have anything just yet after staring at that foot all morning,” you joke.

“You telling me you’re not as entertained by it as the kids are?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Shocking, I know.”

He turns to give you an assessing glance now, “You sure you’re alright?”

“Just tired.” You lay your head in the cool, dark crook of his neck, breathe him in. “Birdie …” voice laced with concern – he tries to gently tug you back by your ponytail, but you burrow in further – press your lips to the pulsing vein in his neck. “I’m fine, Joel. Just tired, really.” He huffs. Grouchy man.

“Hi, honey,” Connie shuffles up to the table. “Joel–” he nods, “You two alright ? That go a long time with Mr. Shwartz?” he asks.

You’re grateful for the distraction from Joel’s fifth degree. “It was fine. Our handy dandy Bovie is so good.” You’d done your best recently to fashion an electrocautery device, like the ones they’d used before in surgery. The two of you had gathered the different parts over time and much voracious scavenging, to put the system together. “You’ve gotta try it next. We should be real proud of that.”

“You should be proud. You’ve got a nice mechanical mind in you, as well. You know, Joel, the body is just a machine of flesh and blood.” Connie turns his blue eyes, gone slightly milky now, on Joel, ready to impart his slice of wisdom – part lecture, part proud tirade for your benefit, as the younger man continues to work through his plate of barbecue. “She looks at the two the same way; it’s very impressive.”

Joel finishes chewing: “Our girl is nothin’ if not impressive,” he says, giving you an impish little smirk. You pinch the inside of his thigh over the thick denim, not imparting nearly enough punishment as you’d like to.

“Shut up,” you grouch at him. “Anyways, the lines were pretty sharp, the cauterization clean. A bit slow, though. I felt a bit held back – but not too bad, considering.”

“Considering…” Connie muses. He starts to eat as well, and the sight of the slick, sauce covered meat is slightly revolting. The sun is way too hot with the change of season into fall just on the cusp, and after staring at poor Mr. Schwartz’s mangled foot all day… “I’m thinking with a little more juice it’ll be perfect. We just have to find a way to feed it more power without frying the whole system.”

“Yes… it’s delicate,” he says slowly.”You should ask Noah for advice.” Joel is silent beside you, but you feel the tensing of his thigh beneath your palm at the mention of Noah’s name. “He’s always been very keen to help us in any way we need.”

“Oh, has he?” Joel drawls, in that monotone he loves to use when cutting people down. He can’t fucking stand Noah; it’s quite funny to you, actually. You nudge his knee with your own, still cradled between his spread legs, and drag your nails slowly up and down his thigh, only responding with a non-committal hum. He shifts his jaw in that way he’s wont to do when he’s especially aggravated, cocks his eyebrow at you. You give him a tiny little mocking tilt of your head. You’re sure he can see the laughter at his expense in your eyes.

“Yes,” Connie continues, completely oblivious to the silent conversation going on between the two of you, “He’s very adept at anything electrical or mechanical. Although, you are, as well, Joel. Perhaps you could advise us too. Any help would be greatly appreciated.”

“I wouldn’t say that, but I can take a look. Offer what I can.”

You change the subject: “Teddy’s been in again this week.” One of the single mother’s in Jackson, Susanna’s son, Teddy, had been continuously ill the past few months. Coming down with different, seemingly unrelated afflictions on and off. His mother was beside herself with worry, and you and Connie were reaching your limits on what you could do to help him. Much less actually provide a clear answer as to a diagnosis.

“Yes, I spoke to his mother last night. Some sort of ague again, undoubtedly.”

You roll your eyes at him affectionately. Connie loved to condemn undiagnosable patients with ‘the ague’. “Connie, the ague is absolutely not a valid form of diagnosis,” you laugh. That launches him into a tirade about the conundrum the boys posed to the both of you these past few weeks. And ague is a perfectly valid explanation, honey. Neither of you are certain what’s causing his bouts of illness. Though you’re reluctantly leaning towards something that won’t pose anything good for any of you; you’re trying to remain optimistic, but the uncertainty is taking a toll on the both of you, as well as his mother.

As Connie goes on, there’s a hazy buzz rumbling around in your brain. Your temples throb, and you press the tender spot into the hard mass of Joel’s shoulder. He’s finished eating now, and you nuzzle into him, breathe in the warm scent of his skin and sweat, grip the hard swell of his bicep – the thick muscle has the most inappropriate arousal pooling low in your belly, but your stomach churns at the same time, and the sun is so damn bright. Too many opposing sensations going on within you all at once, you’re sure you’re on the verge of sun poisoning – dramatic – and it’s making you needy. Infecting you with ideas of crawling into his lap and having him cradle you. He stiffens beneath your attentions suddenly. The soothing large palm he’d been dragging up and down your spine goes still, pausing with his fingertips tucked just below the waistband of your jeans – as if he’s just now realizing how openly affectionate the two of you are being – his muscles go rigid at your display, and then that’s it. He’s pulling away.

Your gut twists again, your head is really spinning now – you straighten in your seat, scoot back and out of the cradle of his thighs, as far as the bench allows you. Always fucking pulling away. He’s stiff and uncomfortable, but at your retreat he clicks his tongue at you, frowns a little, and you want to snap at his subtle admonishment – you started it, what are you frowning at me for?

Connie is still going on about Teddy. “You sure you’re alright, dear?” he interrupts himself. “You look a bit peaky.”

“I’m fine.” You stand abruptly, “I’ve got to head back, actually.” Joel turns to reach for you, but you step back and away from his fingers. The heat is definitely making you grouchy, sick; you’re not acting yourself. “I promised Mr. Schwartz I’d be back to check on him within the hour.” You don’t want to look at Joel anymore – you’re used to his sudden bouts of tension – discomfort – but something is setting you on edge today.

“You should eat something before you go, honey,” Connie says – looking up at you with concern.

“I had something before I came. I’m okay.” You turn to look at Joel now, as the lie passes your lips, a provocation held in your eyes and tone.

He frowns, “You said –”

“I’ll see you two later.”

“Birdie –” But you’ve turned from him before he can continue, walking away quickly. Your head is spinning, gut cramping and turning over on itself. The sun feels like it’s two feet away from you, bearing down on the crown of your head, and you know you’re about to be sick. Always fucking pulling away, always. It embarrasses you a little that you still chafe at it, the back of your eyes pinching and saliva pooling heavy on your tongue. You know the way he is.

You make it back to the clinic just in time to vomit behind the bushes on the side of the house.

Jesus.

Susanna brings Teddy into the clinic late in the evening. You’ve just finished writing up your operative note for the ‘famous foot’ (Mr. Schwartz’s words, not yours) when she flies in, frantic, with the listless child in her arms. She tells you he’d been lethargic and without an appetite all day, but she’d chalked it up to fatigue and melancholy from being ill and bedridden so often, recently. His fever had crept up out of nowhere, and now Teddy was almost unconscious, burning hot and delirious – words slurring, eyes glassy.

It’d been hours since then. Teddy was now resting quietly with cool compresses and ice bags tucked under his arms and against his neck which seemed to be helping. Susanna had retired to the back of the house to rest for a bit, and you now sat between Mr. Schwartz and the boy, quietly reading over a text both you and Connie had already gone over multiple times – hoping to find anything that’d inspire an explanation. Most concerningly of all, you’d noticed a smattering of purple-yellowish, sickly looking bruises along Teddy’s spine. It pushed you in the direction your mind had previously taken concerning what could potentially be the cause of all of this. And even though it was the first you’d seen of any bruising on him, it didn’t reassure you at all.

“Joel’s here,” Nancy, the nurse that worked with you and Connie, says quietly from the doorway. You stand from your bedside vigil, sighing. It’s late, and you don’t want to do this now. A little embarrassed from your earlier fit. A lot tired from the long day and throwing up and the heat.

“Can you come out and get me in two minutes, please? Interrupt us.”

She gives you an assessing look. “Sure.”

You walk out to the office to find him leaning against your cluttered desk, bulging arms crossed against his chest, straining the sleeves of his button down. There’s a far off look in his eyes, scowl marring his brow, but when he looks up at you all the tightness in his countenance seems to melt away at the sight of you. “You alright?” His gaze is assessing – sweeping up and down your frame, taking everything in like always. The man sees entirely too much.

“I’m fine. I need to stay here tonight, though.” You jerk your thumb back towards the exam room. “They need me.”

“You said you were tired.”

“It passed – just the sun.” He looks at you like he doesn’t really believe you.

“About earlier—”

“It’s fine, Joel.” You feel too tired, too strung out, to give him an out by pretending to ignore that he’d hurt you, pissed you off. Let it be what it was – you had a sick child to care for – couldn’t think about all the distance that would seemingly exist forever between the two of you, not right now, at least.

“You lied about eating.”

Oh, now he wanted to be fucking honest. You roll your eyes at him, watch his jaw clench. “What?” Tone bratty and antagonistic, “No I didn’t – you misunderstood.”

“You told me you didn’t want to eat, and then you told Connie, not fifteen minutes later, that you’d already eaten.”

“Well then I misspoke – that’s not what I meant.” You turn away from him towards the desk, busy your hands with the papers littered across its surface to avoid his eyes. You feel like fighting – like baring your teeth at him, and you hate it. You don’t want to fight with him, ever. You want, need, things to be okay between the two of you. “Why are we arguing about this? I have to get back.” The bite in your voice startles you for a second, and your hands pause their shuffling. Turning back to face him, wide eyed and shocked at the way you practically spit the words at him, but, fuck it, you decide to just go with it.

He doesn’t let you, though – doesn’t take your bait. You watch the muscle in his jaw feather rapidly as he grinds his teeth, fists curled into knots at his sides like he’s trying to restrain himself from throttling you – and you think you’d kind of like him to do it. You’ve gotta be PMSing or something because where is all this sudden desire for violence coming from? You definitely need to sleep soon.

He exhales a slow breath through his nose. “Not try’na argue, baby… just figure out what’s wrong.” Your heart twists painfully, the back of your eyes pinching and hot, and you will not cry right now. His words make you even more angry because if he cares so much about such seemingly small things like this, why can’t he just let everything else fall into place between you as well?

Nancy pops her head through the open door, calling your name, “Need you when you’ve got a second.”

“Be right there, Nance.” You throw her a grateful look.

Turning back to Joel you rub your forehead, trying to press the ache that’s taking root in your brain out with your fingertips. “Nothing… nothing’s wrong. I’m just…” you sigh, suddenly very sad, very tired. You take in his weathered face, his brow pulled down into a scowl anyone who knew him less would take for anger, but you see it for what it is: concern, discomfort, frustration at the tension that’s held constant between the two of you all day. The both of you pulling away and then yanking each other back. You can see he wants to move past this, avoid whatever fight is brewing – too much for him to handle. You know he hates it when you’re angry and annoyed with him, and doesn’t that have to mean something? Please, please it must mean something more. But you’re too tired for this now, your body overwrought from its brief bout of sickness earlier, from your long day. You’d like to go to bed with him and not wake up for a year. Lay on his chest and feel the movement of his breathing rock you to sleep, count the spaces between his ribs, make a home for yourself within them. A great jealousy for his heart, the organ itself, writhes in you, that it gets to live inside him. You’re feeling melancholy and exhausted and overly emotional . Sad that even when he’s the source of your turmoil, your hurt, he’s still the only one you want to go to for comfort. You clear your throat, “I’m fine, Joel. Really.” You try and give him a small smile. “I was in a mood earlier, but I’m okay now.”

“I need us to be okay, Birdie. I– I know…” he looks away, hisses through his teeth in frustration. “I know I don’t always act like it, but–”

You hold up a hand to stop him. You don’t want to, can’t, listen to him try and make excuses. Explain to you things you’ve always understood about what this thing is between the two of you. “We don’t need to do this. I promise everything’s fine. I need to get back.” You step forward to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, to appease the both of you, but also if only because you can’t help but touch him when he’s near, hands snaking up his belly and chest to fist in the collar of his shirt. He hums low in his throat and grips the back of your neck, other hand low on your back to press you to him, and everything inside you goes liquid hot and wanting, just at the feel of him, the scent of him.

“Try and rest.” He breathes you in at the crown of your head, and you nod against his chest.

“I will. Don’t worry.” But you know he’ll do that anyways, and that alone is a comfort.

Connie meanders in about midnight, nocturnal creature that he is, to check on you all. You’d pulled the armchair from the office into the corner of the infirmary while you read in the corner. An all night vigil wasn’t exactly necessary – Teddy’s fever had broken about an hour ago, his vitals were stable, and Mr. Schwartz had been snoring the night away for hours. Nancy lived on the second floor of the house, and was always near and available if necessary, but you were peaceful here. Tucked away in your corner with your book and a throw draped over your folded knees. The anxiety you’d carried heavy in your belly all day had dissipated. Thoughts of Joel settled now, compared to the frenzied hysterical swarm they’d been all day. Sometimes this need for him scared you. That your mood, your physical self, could so easily be altered by him, by his own mood, his words, his touch. The tether he held you by was so strong, it felt unbreakable, permanent. It scared you to think what would become of you if one day he decided to break it.

Connie passes a hand over the boy’s forehead, murmuring to himself as he examines him, pops his stethoscope in to take a listen. His movements are slow and practiced, methodical. You’d always loved watching him work. You’ve passed so far into the realms of exhaustion, you’re a little delirious now, your mind and vision hazy, and you rest your head against the wingback and watch. “He’s settled now. Vitals are steady.” You hum in agreement.

He turns to look at you then, his gaze contemplative as he takes a seat on the bench along the end of the bed directly in front of you. His tired groan makes you smile a little, old man. The fondness for him squeezes your heart. He has something to say, you can tell. “I know your father was an exacting man,” he starts. You nod, still quiet. You know that now is a time for listening. “I think of him often. I know I never met him, but he wanders into my mind quite frequently. I think of the things you’ve told me about him, about your mother and sister–” When you’d first become close, it’d been hard for you to speak of your family, of Beth and her death, but eventually you’d forced yourself to. For no other reason than that the thought of you being the only person left in the world that remembered their names, that knew their stories, wrought a grief in you so profound, it was impossible to keep it all inside. You were scared if you didn’t share, if you carried all that alone, you’d lose yourself in their memories forever. “I think that after all that, after living their deaths in such a gruesome way, it could have been very easy for you to lose yourself in all that. Do you agree?” Another small tilt of your chin. The precision with which he’d always read you, understood you, was the greatest comfort in the world. That sometimes it wasn’t even necessary to tell him out loud what it was you were feeling or needed for him to pick up on it.

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” you finally say.

“No…” his eyes take on the thoughtful look he gets, the one that makes you wish you could read his mind sometimes, read the wonderings of that brilliant mind like one of your textbooks. “Instead, you became a splendid and thoughtful physician. A seemingly impossible thing, no? Now, with the state of the world for you to have pieced together a vocation such as this…” his milky blue eyes glint with humor, pride, “Well, it’s all very impressive, my dear.”

“Thank you,” you acknowledge.

“And even more impressive, considering the fact, that had you been given a choice in the matter, you would never have chosen this for yourself… had the world been different, normal.” And there it is again, that keen sense of knowing.

“Yes.” There is nothing more to say. It is, after all, your most painful, most honest, most shameful truth. Painful, not in the sense that you carried any regret now, when you cared for your patients, when you put the knowledge your father and Connie had given you into practice. But painful in the sense that it chafed at your skin, that desire for other . That small seed that had the great potential of growth within you, to spread like ivy around a house, and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, until all you were left with were thoughts of what could have been.

“But like I said… your father was an exacting man, and this is what he chose for you. And then, perhaps, even I played a part in that same theft of choice from you.” You try to interrupt him then, to vehemently deny it, but he continues unheeded. “You got here and you seemed to be a sort of benediction to me. A vessel for all the knowledge I could impart on you. A shepherd I could leave this flock to.” He slips his glasses off the bridge of his nose and wipes them slowly with the hem of his sweater. “I know you’ll take good care of them when I’m no longer here. That they could not have ended up in better, more caring hands.” You hate when he talks about his dying, fills you with a premonitory dread you don’t know how you’ll cope with when it becomes actuality. “But alas, you did what was set upon you, took it all in stride.” He pauses, as if contemplating what he’s about to say next, and you know the point of all this has arrived. You even know where it is he’s going with this.

“I say all this, my dear, not to dredge up old painful memories, or reminders of what could have been… But because I would not like to see your choices taken from you once again.” And there it is. He levels his gaze at you, quiet for several moments, and it’s like he is here in the room with you now, his presence, his unsaid name heavy and poignant.

“Joel’s a good man, honey, but he’s a hurt man. Hurt in a way I don’t think even you could cure.”

Your instinct to defend him is immediate. “He’s not— he’s not a hurt man.” You shake your head, brow furrowed, “He’s been hurt before, but it doesn’t define him, Connie. It’s not the sole contributor to who he is.” And that’s true, you know it is. Believe it to your very core. You, who knows Joel better than few others, you know the pains of his past don’t define him. Perhaps before, they did. A pain so acute it molded him into a creature focused only on survival, or perhaps, he let it get the better of him at times. But he is so much more than all that. Has the strength and the will to set it aside when he so chooses to. Ellie being the perfect example of that.

Choices, choices, those were the things that defined a person.

“Isn’t it? You can’t live off the potential you see in someone forever.”

“I hate it when you say that.” You sit up, let your feet drop to the floor, and lean forward to stress your point. “What are we all, if not vessels of untapped potential? We’re all just walking around with the possibility of something more inside of us. Of course, of course I value the potential I see in him! I know he has the possibility of so, so much inside of him – that’s what makes me… That’s why I –” You cut yourself off before you can make that confession, a choked sound leaving your throat. You look out the nearby window at the dark street, press your thumb hard into the center of your forehead, will the tension and frustration out of the skin and bone.

“I know… I know,” he says gently, offering you his hands, palms up – a sign of concession. “But it’s not enough to hang all your hopes and dreams on just that. I want more for you than just that . I want you to have choices. To be able to have what you truly want, what you truly need. I would not like to know that something unfulfilling has been forced upon you once again by the circumstances of this world.” And he says it so sadly, with a look of such tenderness in his eyes, it makes embarrassment burn hot and red in your cheeks. The back of your eyes pinch. What must they all think of me when they see us together? The part that perhaps does, or should, make you the most embarrassed, is that you don’t really care at all. Not in any substantial way that would make a real difference, make you act differently. “I’m not unfulfilled, Connie. I love what we do here,” you say softly.

“I know that, I know. But still…I just–”

You rest your aching head in your cupped palms, bent elbows propped on your knees. You’re so fucking tired. “Connie, please, I know…” you whisper. “Just, please, no more tonight… I’m exhausted. You can tell me all this another time – tomorrow. Just no more tonight.”

“Alright, alright, dear. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to give you grief.” He stands, comes towards you to rest a gentle palm on your shoulder.

“I know… and you’re not… It’s me.”

“I only want good things for you, darling girl.” You press your hand over his on your shoulder, give a short nod.

“Go home – you need rest. Nancy will stay with them.”

“I can sit for a few more hours. Teddy likes to know I’m here.”

“No, no,” his voice takes on that stern fatherly tone he likes to whip you into shape with sometimes. “Enough for tonight. They’ll both be fine. You’ll see them tomorrow.”

You scrunch your nose at him, “Bossy.” But you stand to go, draping the blanket over the back of the chair. He pulls you in for a hug then, envelops you in the comfort and steadiness he’s always offered you, from the very start. He always smells faintly of peppermint and mothballs and old paper. “It’ll all work itself out, my dear. You’ll find a way. You always do. I’m not worried about that.”

Joel watches you leave the clinic from his spot in the shadows across the road. He’s been posted here, obstinate and pissed off with himself, for hours. Especially because he’s certain this must be a new low for him, sulking in the dark, watching for you like a creep. But he just wanted to be close to you. He knows you lied to put him off earlier. Your conversation had left him unsatisfied, restless. He knows you’re pulling away because he’s pulling away. Because he’s putting you off, and he tells himself he’ll give you space, tells himself that’s what’s best, but knows it’s a lie as he thinks it.

The thing is, despite his obstinance, Joel was not a man who lacked self awareness. He was, in fact, very good at recognizing a thing within himself, and yet still able to make a conscious decision to feign ignorance towards it to the outside world. This set up worked well for him – sometimes … on occasion… But this was different, and he knew it. Feigning ignorance would not work between the two of you for much longer. You were getting tired and sad and frustrated with him and he could see it and hated himself for being the cause of it. And if he was being honest with himself, which in this moment, he was trying to be, he was getting tired of it too, tired of himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in this position with a woman. On the verge of … something. Something he couldn’t confess, even to himself, yet. But to allow himself that, to allow himself the simple act of even admitting what he knew was the truth of his feelings for you – there was a part of him, a very broken part that had not been used in a long, long time, that couldn’t even imagine it. To allow himself that sort of vulnerability. To allow himself the truth of there existing another person in this world, in what this world had become, a partner – a woman he cared for, needed . It was too vulnerable, too precious a thing to allow himself. Perhaps before, perhaps in a world not overrun by death and disease and violence – by loss.

But what did that even look like anymore? A world bereft of monstrousness? Wiped clean of the beasts that had overtaken it, human or infected. Could Joel even remember such a thing – even imagine it, if only in his dreams? He couldn’t even discern which of the two was worse anymore. Part of him knew it didn’t really matter. Not in the end. It was all conjecture when it came down to losing your life – losing the person you loved. Whether it was fungus or a bullet – dead was dead.

Sometimes he didn't even feel like a person anymore. Just this thing that existed at the periphery of the world. In the moments when he pushed you away, when he turned from the loving look in your face, forced himself to brush off your words and your affection, to hold you at arms length – to protect the vulnerable, scarred mass of his heart – those were the moments in which he was most like a creature, least like a man.

He thought of a world where he felt safe enough to go to the woman he loved, his Birdie, hold you in his arms and say: here is everything I have for you, I’m begging you, please take it .

Such a world didn’t exist in Joel’s mind. Couldn’t fit. He’d been stripped of the ability. To have something so vulnerable and new. A type of fragile he’d not held since his twelve year old daughter lay bleeding and broken in his arms, and have the ability to say I am strong enough to endure the possible loss of this. I need you this badly. So badly I am willing to risk even my own heart.

It looked like trying to swallow the sea.

He follows you home in the darkness.

“You get that fixed alright?” Joel’s voice barks from the mouth of the garage. You startle, your knee slamming into the underside of the workbench. Deciding to follow through on Connie’s suggestion from yesterday, you’d come to see Noah, knocking on his door bright and early this morning, Bovie clutched in your hands. He’d been more than happy to give it a look for you. The two of you had been sitting here for about an hour now, and in that time you’d seen Joel’s form stalk by at least three times, from out of the corner of your eye. Absurd man that he was, you knew he’d been psyching himself up to barge in here and interrupt the two of you. Seemed he’d brought his attitude with him.

“Jesus, man–” Noah’s hand grips your smarting knee, rubbing it gently, “We didn’t hear you come up.” Joel’s left eye twitches at the we, his gaze zeroed in on the hand on your knee, his teeth bared in the perpetuation of a ridiculous growl as he takes a threatening step forward. You lift your brows at him – all your fire and fight from yesterday put to rest now after some much needed sleep. He cocks his brow back at you, shifts his jaw side to side in annoyance.

“Absorbed in your work?” he drawls sardonically.

“We’ve made some good progress actually! Come see,” Noah says, completely missing Joel’s mocking tone, the poor thing. He gives your knee another gentle pat, and you think you might just see steam come out of Joel’s ears. He steps up behind you, chest pressed close to your back and passes a hand over your hair, presses a kiss to the crown of your head. This fucking guy. Now he feels like getting handsy. You scrunch your nose at him, turning back to face Noah and the Bovie, your shoulder pressing into Joel’s belly. Noah takes in your positions, the possessive hand now curled around your neck – looks back down at the knee he’d just grabbed and then back to Joel’s broad intimidating form and scowling face. You see a slow swallow move through his throat. As he starts to explain the changes the two of you had made to the electrocautery generator, you consider the differences between the two of them. The contrast is stark. Noah isn’t small by any means, average height, a nice build – but there’s something about Joel. Some sort of warning in the air around him, in the space he takes up in a room, that makes him larger than life – something that says don’t fuck with me or mine. Heat pools low in your belly and you press your thighs together tightly. Fucked up, you’re fucked up – you try to brush his hand off your neck – suddenly feeling overwhelmed, your skin overly sensitized. “Quit –” he says low in your ear and you almost whimper. He’s jealous, and it’s turning you on. There’s definitely something wrong with you.

You try to shake him off again,“ Let go.”

“No.” His voice is steel. Noah is heedlessly going on about the Bovie, about how it only took a slight rewiring from the generator into the hand-piece without overwhelming the system; giving it the little bump of power it was missing. Joel’s thumb brushes a slow, warning path up and down your neck. Down, down, to the top notch of your vertebrae, slowly kneading the fine muscles surrounding the prominence of your bone and then up and pushing into the base of your skull. His hands are warm and dry – the rough calluses abrading your sensitive skin. You feel the flush in your cheeks traveling down over your chest, the tips of your breasts tightening to painful points. You see Joel’s eyes flicker down, taking you in, and he gives a contemplative hum low in his throat.

“I’m so glad you let me help,” Noah says with a warm smile. He’s sweet and so genuine and as you take him in, how completely unaware he is of the silent struggle going on between you and Joel right in front of him, you’re struck by how easy loving a man like that would be. And how unfulfilling for a woman like you. What is it about some people, that they can’t appreciate a good thing unless it hurts a little?

“Connie and I are real grateful that you could help. You let us know if there’s anything we can do for you.” Joel gives him a short nod as you leave.

And then, soft and threatening into the shell of your ear as the two of you walk away from the nice, sweet, uncomplicated boy: we’re goin’ home, and I’m gonna lick that cunt until you’re cryin’, little bird.

Your steps speed up, trying to outrun the clutch of his hands on your skin, trying to escape – even if just a little.

You never stood a chance of that.

He follows, menacingly on your heels, as you dart into your house. A rabbit trying to outrun the big bad wolf. You make for the stairs and you feel the tips of his fingers ghost lightly in the ends of your long hair, one foot on the first step, but then his finger is catching in your belt loop, yanking you hard into his chest. Your back thumps against him with a small oof and then his hands are skating along your curves, big palms squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples through the cotton of your t-shirt..

“Bad Birdie, try’na run from me.” He nuzzles, gentle, gentle into the nape of your neck, the line of your hair, presses his mouth to the top notch of your spine. You feel his hot, wet tongue slide over the jut of your vertebrae, small peppered kisses to your nape and your entire body flushes hot – arousal pulling low and tight in your belly. Your clit throbs in time with his panting breath in your ear. His soft mouth is totally at odds with the tension he’s holding himself with right now, the harsh way he presses his fingers into the skin of your hips.

You can feel the thick length of him pressing into your ass; he’s hard as stone and throbbing – turned on by the chase. You moan, deep and wanton, slick pooling in your panties, ready for him now , just at the feel of his hands on you. “You want it, baby?”

“Y– yes,” you stutter, pressing yourself harder into him.

“Want me to fuck that needy little cunt?”

His voice is so deep you feel it vibrate through his chest and into your back, down, down your body all the way to the tips of your toes. “Please, Joel,” you whimper. You try to turn in his arms, but he clicks his tongue at you, wrapping his arms more tightly around your waist, half dragging, half carrying you up the stairs to your bedroom.

“I always give my Birdie what she needs, don’t I?”

“Settle now. Stay still so I can eat you how I like.” He hitches his hands higher up the backs of your thighs, beneath your knees – spreads you further apart, up and back to press into your breasts, making more space for the broad valley of his naked shoulders. He’d gotten you naked and into bed, quick as a viper. His desperation, evident in the wild look in his eyes. He was unsettled, either by the tension between the two of you yesterday or you around another man, but he was trying to prove some unspoken point to the two of you in the ferocity of his grip on your skin.

He settles his face deep into your sex now and eats. “Who’s all this wet for, huh? Were you thinkin’ about me while that boy tried to get in your good graces?”

“It’s too much. Please, please, please,” you sob. Tears making a slow, steady journey back into your hairline, dripping into your ears. You yank hard on his hair, try to direct his movements. You can’t tell if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer.

“Want me to stop?” He laps at your clit.

“I– I dont– I don’t know–” It felt like he’d been at this for hours. “I–”

“It’s okay.” Soft, whispered kisses to the puffy lips of your sex, your slippery inner thighs. You’re so wet, and you’d have burns from his beard and bruises from his teeth tomorrow. “I know, I know you’re just a little bird,” his teeth sharp and mean to the softest part of you, then the broad flat of his tongue to soothe – a sharp, quick suck to your swollen clit. His volley between rough and tender on your vulnerable sex setting you further on edge than anything else he was doing. “But you can take it for me.You can be so, so good for me. My good girl.”

Your cunt pulls tight – throbs like a wound. Hurts in a way you’re desperate for. You love him, you love him, you love him. Goddamn the things he does to you, makes you feel. You need him so much and he gives it all to you exactly in the way that’s the most perfect, just for you. You feel fucking delirious, on the brink of insanity.

He pushes two thick fingers into you, cunt spasming and clinging. He scissors the digits inside of you, stretches your hole. The squelch is lewd and obscene and messy. You can feel your cheeks burning red and hot, and you throw an arm over your eyes as you feel your slick leak down between your ass to pool on the sheets beneath you – hiding yourself from your own obscenity.

“Pussy s’fuckin’ good, baby. Tastes like candy.” He pulls out his fingers, slaps your cunt, twice, quick and sharp. The sound you let out shames you, high pitched and whining. “Fuckin’ red ‘nd gaping for me. God, Birdie –” he moans so deep it makes your heart race, brings his mouth back to you – licks a broad stripe from hole to clit with the flat of his tongue. His mouth latches to the aching swollen bud and sucks. “You need me so much dont you? Fuckin’ come in my mouth – wanna taste it.” And he’s right, he’s right, you do, you need him so much. In that instant, you feel so grateful that he knows it.

Your back arches, everything liquid within you pooling low in your pelvis, pulling tight, and it feels like the world is about to end around you; a catastrophe even greater than anything the cordyceps could have ever wrought. This is what he brings out of you with his mouth and his fingers and his words, and you gush onto his face. He almost fucking whines at the splash of your orgasm on his tongue – slurping down everything you have to give him, you feel your wetness cover his face and beard. This is what you give to each other.

He gentles his fingers and tongue. Letting your orgasm coast along into echoes and throbs. You try to push him away with your foot on the thick mass of his shoulder, on the brink of overstimulation, but quick as a viper, he circles his entire large palm around the fine bones of your ankle and squeezes. Quit – presses a tiny kiss to the protrusion of your bone there.

“ Mine,” he growls. “Mine, no one touches you but me–” His hands open you wider for him, fileting you for his eyes only. You feel hot and flush, your skin tight, to the point of bursting, like an overripe plum in the sun. Skin fragile and thin, insides viscous, ready to spill your flesh for him, blood burning hot as it churns in your veins. “Not fuckin’ done yet, Birdie. Not done with this perfect pussy.” Tears make a slow path down your temples, your fingers tangled in his hair, wanting to hurt– just a little. Like the delicious hurt of holding him within yourself. The way it feels like an old aching bruise inside of you when he stuffs you full of his cock. And then he’s up, up, up – quick as a whip – his fingers shoving into the tangle of your hair at the nape of your neck, captured in a tight fist like prey in a snare, and he’s shoving your own taste deep into you with his tongue. The kiss, open and savage – he’s fucking your mouth like he was just fucking your pussy. Your heart pushes against the bones of your chest, and you desperately clutch at his shoulders for some sort of countenance. He unmoors you . You have been unmoored by this man. And you want – need – more.

He kneels between your open legs, thick thighs anchoring you wider and fists his cock, the head gleaming and painfully red. He pulls your thighs over his own thicker ones, and presses the fat tip hard to your sensitive clit, making you jolt and whimper pathetically. “Cock drunk, that’s what you are.” All you can do is nod dumbly, eyes glassy and wet. His voice is so deep. He drags the head down to your entrance, presses just a little, only the fat tip held inside you. He fucks you short and shallow like that, his hips moving in tiny, slow jerks.

“Please,” you sigh, your eyes fluttering shut at the subtle pressure, at the promise of what’s about to come, “Please, Joel.”

“Please what? Please what?” he mocks, just a little mean, and then he’s surging inside in one brutal thrust. Fucking into you without warning and he’s huge — almost too much to take, even after your orgasms. “Fucking tight,” he grits out. He hoists you up, arms wrapped around your waist and starts fucking up and into you, hard. Not giving you a moment to adjust. Letting go of the restraint he’d held while he ate you out. Cock battering into something deep and sensitive inside you, all you can do is take it. Let him have you as he pleases.

He can feel your slick pooling at the base of his cock and sliding down his balls. He wraps his hand around the fine bones of your jaw, “Who’s pussy is this?” he growls over the wet slap, “Wanna hear it out loud.”

Yours, yours, yours.

Your face is flushed and sweaty, cheeks red as an apple, eyes glazed, dark, wet lashes clumped together. The fucked out look in your eyes doing more for him than anything else. This is what he does to you, only him . He picks up the pace of his hips, fucks you harder, harder and your tits bounce against his chest. He slaps one of them gently, appreciating the soft jiggle it gives, the small gasp you let out. His other hand snakes low on your tummy and presses down into your pelvis so he can feel the battering of his cock inside of your cunt and shit he’s gonna come soon. Gonna come with his hand feeling himself fuck you from the outside. “Too much, too much, Joel ,” you whine. “Oh god, I– I’m gonna–” You’re soaked, sweat and slick sliding between your two bodies, and clutching him hot and tight as a fist. He can’t get deep enough, can’t give it to you hard enough. He never wants to stop, will never be able to stop.

“You’re taking my cock so good, so fucking good. Jesus fuck, I can’t, I can’t–” He slates his mouth over your open panting one, licks into the sweet, red gleam of you. Your arms wrap around his neck, and he drags his teeth along your full bottom lip, lets it go with a little wet pop. You moan, head falling back on your neck, beyond words. He bends his head, hand wrapped around the fullness of your tit to bring it to his mouth, bites gently down on the tight, aching bud, laves his tongue around it and sucks it into his mouth. Then he’s pushing you back, letting you fall and bounce onto the mattress, legs splayed. When he pulls out abruptly you whimper – he can’t let himself come yet, not yet, just a little more – and he leaves a hot trail of open mouth kisses down your neck, over your shoulder, sucking the peak of your breast into his mouth again, over the swell of your belly, until he’s between your thighs again and bends his head to devour your slick. His tongue licking deep inside where his cock just was. He’s frantic. There’s no reason to the sense of urgency he feels, the urgency he’s taking you with right now. It’s something subconscious – something primal telling him to mark you, lay his claim.

He can’t stop taking and taking, always taking.

He pulls up again from between your legs, the abruptness of his movements confusing you, leaving you to deliriously allow him to do with you what he will. “Taste us,” he says as he licks into your mouth, fucking his aching cock back into your spent cunt, so fucking tight always. “One more, baby. Gimme one more, lemme feel you milk me.” And like his own personal little marionette on a string, you do. Pussy fluttering and then pulling tight, a little furl of a knot, squeezing his own orgasm out of him. He feels his balls pull up tight and he’s painting you inside, teeth latched tightly to the delicate muscle that connects your neck and shoulder. The sound from your throat is high and keening, supplicant. He licks the hurt he’s just left. Grinds his spitting cock deep, right into the mouth of your womb.

Mine, mine, fucking mine. It is a mantra of reassurance for the both of you.

He cradles you in his embrace afterwards, his body wrapped around you as if he were a vine grown from your very heart. He sighs, the sound deep from his chest, and you want to tell yourself you can hear a yearning desperate enough to match your own in the cadence of it. His head drops to your shoulder, nuzzles the vulnerable space beneath your jaw, now riddled with his bites and bruises. You know you’ll enjoy inspecting them in the mirror tomorrow, feeling the warm pull of your belly at the reminder. And the moment is so achingly tender, even more intimate in a way, than your sex. The feel of him surrounding you, soft and quiet. Your eyes feel hot, pinching threateningly.

“I have to go,” he murmurs, spent cock still buried inside of you. He presses kisses to your hair, your lips, over your closed eyelids. He can’t stop, God, he’s tried – is trying – but he can’t go, can’t part from you. Fighting is so fucking hard when you’ve got no will behind it. When what you’re trying to fight against is the thing you’ve wanted more than anything else in your whole life, and the only thing standing in your way is yourself, your own inadequacy. Perhaps he could endure the agony, the filth of life, the loss, the loss, the loss, with you held in his arms like this.

His patrol shift started almost an hour ago. The guys were going to ream the hell out of him, he’d been here with you for hours, and still, still he couldn’t stop, couldn’t pull himself away. His lack of will, lack of restraint, of self control – his body and heart’s inability to do what his mind told him to, makes him so angry. At himself, and maybe – not at you, never you – but perhaps, at what you represented. All he wanted but couldn’t let himself have in full. He needed to go. He had responsibilities. He had truths to confess to himself.

He was in love with you. He was. He was.

Joel was an obstinate man, but he did not lack self awareness. Now was the moment for this truth, if only confessed to himself. So, angry, and in love with you, and tremendously sorry, he turns away. Pulls out of your tight wet clutch with a wince, your breathy gasp making his cock twitch slightly, even so soon after he’s just come. You roll over, burrow into the pillows, and he grips the swell of your ass, pulls you apart to feast on the sight of his come leaking out of you. Obscene. Wet and messy and swollen, marked by his spend. He wants to bend for a taste but knows if he does, he won’t stop, will be likely to start all over again. “I gotta go, Birdie. M’already late.” He bends to nip a gentle bite to your ass cheek, one small last taste, then the press of a kiss. He hopes you can feel all he cannot say with that touch. The soft sound of acquiescence you hum as you burrow further into the sheets has his teeth clenching as he reaches for his clothes, heart turning over in his chest. He’s sure every sound out of you has a direct connection to his cock at this point.

He won’t shower, won’t wash your drying come from his body. He’ll take you with him, wear you on his skin. Anyways, what did it matter, really, when he already wore you on his heart, his soul? What was one more conquering of his self? Perhaps this was, ultimately, what swallowing the sea looked like.

Chapter III

Netherfeildren Masterlist

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #FOG fic

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hyper-pixels · 1 year

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Analog Horror List

Analog horror is uniquely known for its low quality and low visual styles. Or VHS style. They can widely range to a found footage or a visual guide style formatting.

Here are some noted ones:

These videos can contain disturbing content, as well as content that can induce a epileptic seizure if you choose to watch any of them.

2h32: A series of videos that are all two minutes and thirty-two seconds long.

Backrooms - The Otherside: A found footage of the back rooms.

Basswood County: Humanoid creatures that kill humans.

Cave Crawler: A video game (no commentary) about a special remote controlled bot meant to look for missing people (or bodies) in caves.

Chezzkids Archives: An archive of games from a website called Chezzkids. The developer went missing and her photos are showing up in the game. May need to have an episode explain it (this one by Minaxa did it well) as there are clues outside of the videos as well.

Cloud Observation: A short observation video on a cloud that seems to be growing limbs.

Escape the Backrooms: A combination of found footages and commercials, it details the backroom and people trying to escape from it.

Eventide - Anomaly Infestation: A news report of anomalies.

Fear Virus: A quick guide on how to protect yourself from a new, highly infectious virus that causes mutations in humans to become something they fear.

Floaters: A video and short guide. It details how humans are suddenly floating into the air.

Gemini Home Entertainment: A series of VHS styled video tapes. Neptune has mutated and is now infecting Earth with strange things called "woodcrawlers" and other mysterious happenings.

Green Mountain Broadcast Center: A archival for tapes. Only one on this channel labled "Live Traffic" which documents a strange storm.

Greylock: One of my favorites so far. About the government experimenting with tulpa and possibly uncovering an ancient god.

Happy Meat Farms: Animal testing that causes severe deformities.

Hi I'm Mary Mary: A woman wakes up in a house with no exits. She then has to face her greatest fears.

Identity Test: A test on whether or not you can tell the difference between normal faces, and distorted ones.

Itch File: A diver touches a random creature that ejects a pus like substance on him with a virus. Severe trypophobia warning.

Koala Superdeep Borehole Incident: The deepest man-made hole has a bit of an unnerving find.

Local 58 Season One: A news station trying to report on the news, when a broadcast alert stating to not look at the moon is reported. Season two

Harmony and Horror: A VHS style of film. as you watch, you discover the oddities and mysteries of the toys tore.

Marble Hornets: You know what this is.

Mister Manticore: Asks you to memorize a picture before asking you to find the differences. Has quick fleshing images.

Midwest Angelica: A piece of an alien breaks away and onto Earth as it passes the exosphere. It quickly folds into horror beyond comprehension.

Monument Mythos Season One: In an alternate world, where the statues seem to be more than just simple monuments. Season Two Season Three

Omega Mart Ad Compilation: Adds that are attempting to be targeted towards humans. More silly and deranged than scary.

Raining Fire (EAS Snario): A EAS scenario of a mentor shower suddenly hailing Earth on Christmas Eve. Leading to event after event.

Surreal Broadcast: A news station with things happening in the background that are related to a cult. Season Two Season Three

Searching for the Five: Five men suddenly disappeared, only leaving behind a few clues.

Sinkhole: A very hungry sinkhole.

Stone Cold Series: Strange eyes have suddenly started to show up in the night.

The Anglers Trap: A guide on what to do when you encounter a tree called the anglers trap. Which lures in humans like an angler fish.

The Backrooms: Where it all started, I believe. The Backrooms are limital spaces.

The Children Under the House: A therapist tries to find out why a young girl has suddenly stopped talking. Her imaginary friends of course, know why.

The Mandela Catalogue: Hostile creatures called alternates (alters for short) that mimic humans, but don't do it quite right. It mixed Christianity and horror together.

The Oldest View: A man finds a random stairwell in a tree that leads miles down. It turns out it's an old mall. Made by the same man who created the Backrooms.

The Scrimblo Catalogue: A joke analog horror based off of a twitter meme. Part Two

The Smile Tapes: A new fungai releases spores that infect humans that causes the muscle in the faces to distort into a smile and causes hysteria.

The Swarm: Aggressive, hungry mosquitos created by a science project gone wrong.

The Quentin Sanders Tapes: A man named Quentin sanders goes to Foxwood university only to discover a eldritch monster.

The Walten Files: Possessed animatronics, one of the founder's family goes missing while the other conspired against them. And not to forget the possessed animatronics.

They Lie Above: Follows the story of a son of a missing farmer who was abducted by aliens, and Neil Armstrong. Who's memories were erased after encountering a alien space craft.

VibingLeaf: Three videos that have a early youtube "lost videos" esque style.

Vita Carnis: A guide on strange fauna and flora seemingly made entirely, out of meat.

White Door Opened: Set in Poland, monsters and strange red mist begins to spread. Of course it starts with humans messing with things they shouldn't mess with.

Winter of 83: Snowmen come to life, and they aren't happy.

-Did I miss any? Let me know! I'll try to keep this updated as I deeper and deeper, but I can't catch everything.

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bassettmemes · 11 months

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FEAR STREET SERIES. ↳ quotes from the fear street book series by r.l. stine. they're not all horror-themed, but there are mentions of murder, death, and a few mentions of food.

“i have a couple of suggestions to help things along. first of all, go back to school on monday.”

"my first day back was a non-event."

"they will come when they come. screaming your throat raw will not change anything."

"i hope you learned your lesson."

"i'm not into lord of the rings."

"this must be what it's like on the moon."

"it's bad enough that we killed [name]. we can't kill four people."

"i heard the whole story. i'll phone the police."

"you've been out in the ozone somewhere since we got here."

"oops! forget you heard that. it just slipped out."

"simon and angelica fear were supposed to be the most evil people in the world. we studied it all in fourth grade."

"without the nectar, i'll perish!"

"where'd you get that line? out of an old horror movie?"

"yes, i know what facetime is."

"like, hello. it's the twenty-first century — geeks rule!"

"dreams are all wishes, right?"

"sorry, i'm on my break."

"i sound so broken up about it, even i would believe me."

"evil never dies. those who do it's work can be conquered, but the evil never goes away. it only seeks a new vessel. anyone can be the victim of evil. even the kindest heart, the gentlest soul, is at its mercy."

"what if you're a ghost from the future?"

"you're not interested in their story, you're interested in their bod!"

“i know i’m going to be different when i go to college. i’m getting my nose pierced, definitely. and maybe a tattoo.”

"good idea. let's get some pizza!"

"why is she so sad? and so mysterious?"

"i will never apologize to a murderer!"

"that's dumb. my plan is better than that."

“i think i’ll write to my mom that you and i have gotten to be very close — very close friends.”

"did you really believe i was a ghost?"

"how can i prove that i'm not a ghost?"

ever since i found out Iiwas a pisces and water was my sign, i’ve had a much better relationship with swimming.

"that was the worst, thinking a fish had eaten the eyeballs out of my skull."

"you went out with me just because you wanted to kill mr. northwood?"

"psychos are allowed to wear maroon, too, you know."

" i tore a fingernail while getting dressed for school this morning and burst into tears. that’s how messed up i am."

"yeah, well, there's no guarantee the sun will rise tomorrow."

"he's so intense, but i like him anyway."

#fear street #fear street sentence starters #sentence prompts #sentence starter #sentence starters #sentence meme #ask meme #rp meme #meme #rp prompt #rp resources #rp #horror sentence starters #horror prompts

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mordaciousmurderer · 7 months

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Home Safe and Sound

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x gn!reader

A/n: GUYS I THINK IM GONNA MAKE THIS A SERIES!! Please lemme know if you like it because this was fun to write. Long story short, you were in a bar and you go up to Ghost pretending to know him to get him away from a creepy guy. as always asks are open

cw: gn!reader, mentions of alcohol, attempted roofie, implied attempted assault if you look close enough, no use of y/n, and yea i had you call him johnny on purpose, can be read as gender neutral but if this continues on i plan on making the reader fem!

The varied sounds of a bar muffled at the back of Simon’s ears. The sun amber glow of lights stretched along tables and chairs. His sharp, steely eyes surveyed the room before he pushed the fabric of his mask up to the bridge of his nose to take a sip from the whiskey class nestled in his grip. The air was thick with the scent of aged whiskey and the low murmur of distant conversations, but Ghost remained in his own world.

As the minutes stretched on, the gentle sounds of chatter and clinking glasses were disrupted by your soft and hurried footsteps. You approached Ghost with an air of urgency, your eyes wild with a mixture of fear and determination. “Excuse me.” She whispered urgently. “Please pretend you know me.”

Ghost's gaze softened as he looked at you recognizing the genuine fear in your eyes. It took him a moment and a half to register what was happening but you wasted to time in creating a character.

“Oh my god Johnny is that you?” You asked excitedly. “Never thought I’d see your balaclava covered mug again!” with an enthusiastic grin you wrapped your arms around him in a hug. Ghost felt his cheeks heat up oil pastel pink and blinked in confusion for a quick second before he snapped out of his daze and hugged you back.

“Yes! Wow it’s lovely to see you!” His gruff voice shocked you ever so slightly. You had picked the biggest guy you could find within 20 feet of you, grateful that he sounded as tough as he looked. You glanced to the side, a slight glimmer of panic flashing through your eyes. He mirrored the path your eyesight took and saw the man you were clearly trying to escape.

The man, clad in tattered leather and exuding an unwelcome persistence, oozed an unsettling aura that made the air around him feel suffocating. He planted himself obviously maybe a few yards away from you, watching closely like a damn private investigator.

Ghost laid a hand on your shoulder to redirect your attention to him. “Are you here for Angelica’s after party?” He asks

“Oh yeah! I didn’t know you and her were still friends.” You respond

“Yeah. Do you need a ride home after?”

“Oh that’d be great! My designated driver had a little too much to drink.” You faked a laugh.

The man shifted in the corner of your eye before stuffing his hands in his pockets and exiting the bar. As soon as the door shuts behind him you exhale and rest against the bar, your head falling heavy in your hands. “Holy fuck. Thank you so much. That guy-“ You came to a sudden halt, every breath you took felt as though it burned your lungs.

“Are you alright?” He asked, offering her a reassuring presence amidst the lingering unease. “Who was that guy?”

You shook your head, still pressed in your hands. “I don’t know he just wouldn’t leave me alone I think he tried to roofie me.”

Magma hot rage boiled up in the back of Ghost’s throat, embarrassed by the level of degeneracy that man reached. He pushed the vile malice back down. “You’re safe now.” He reassured you. “Are you able to get home safely?”

“Yes I just gotta.. call an uber.” Your voice still carrying the edge of residual anxiety. Your DD getting too drunk unfortunately was not part of the bit. You weren’t truly drunk but absolutely not sober enough to drive.

“I’ll wait with you until it arrives.” Ghost slaps a 50 dollar bill on the bar. “I want her tab paid too. Keep the change.”

You quickly shook your head “No no you don’t have to-“

“Don’t worry.” He interjects plainly and you smile in response A mix of gratitude and relief washed over your features as you tapped in your destination to your phone. "Thank you, really. You have no idea how much this means to me." Your gratitude oozed out of you. You gave him your name once the confirmation of your uber had come through.

“I’m Simon.” He responds. The idea of you sitting in an uber with a stranger was definitely disconcerting. “Here, let me give you my number. I want to make sure you get home just fine.” He held his hand out expectantly and you placed your unlocked phone in his hand.

“That’s very kind of you…” A swell of gratitude enveloped you as you looked at him, your eyes filled with a profound appreciation for the stranger who had become your unexpected savior. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your night.”

He shook his head “Do not apologize, it wasn’t your fault. You had the right idea comin’ up to me.”

You looked down at your phone after it pinged then held up up, wiggling it slightly to indicate the arrival of your uber. The two of you stood up and he made a gesture allowing you to go first. He followed you out of the crowded building and you pointed at the car that had come to take you home. The chill in the air pierced through you like a thousand icy needles, causing you to shudder involuntarily as you stepped out into the night. “Thank you again.” You crossed your arms tight to your chest in effort to warm up.

Ghost unslung his jacket, draping it over your shoulders as a shield against the biting cold. A true gentlemanly gesture that had no ulterior motive other than his concern for your well-being. Your cheeks flushed warmly at the gesture and you hoped he would blame the blush on the cold.

“It’s no problem at all. Don’t forget to text me when you’re home safe.” He opens the car door for you and you settle in the back seat.

“It was nice meeting you.” You respond. The two of you exchange a smile and a nod. In that fleeting exchange, an unspoken bond had woven itself between you two, a connection forged in your vulnerability. He shut the door and watched as the car pulled away.

As the Uber drove away from the dimly lit bar, you got settled in the back seat, wrapped in Simon’s jacket. Its familiar warmth a reminder of the stranger who had come to your aid. The events of the evening played out in your mind like a vivid tableau.

The unspoken understanding between the two of you lingered in your thoughts as the Uber drove longer. Your apartment wasn’t too far away from the bar so before you knew it the familiar building came into view. You gripped at the comforting fabric of the jacket, now guilty for leaving him without his own way to combat the chill in the air. As the Uber came to a halt you thanked the driver humbly before hurrying into the apartment complex and up the stairs to your home.

Your mind found itself looping around the thought of Simon and how kind he was to you. Why you felt safe going up to this masked man puzzled you, but regardless you thought you made the right choice. You made sure to lock your door and went around to shut and lock all your windows, still on edge from the previous events. Pulling out your phone, you went to your contacts to find a new one amidst all the others. You pulled up a new text thread titled with his name and you typed up a message:

‘Home safe and sound. Thank you again Simon :)’

Masterlist

#call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #mw2 #modern warfare ii #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2019 #modernwarfare

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blond-jerk-tourney · 9 months

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Brackets + Participants Masterlist

Have you ever thought who is the JERKIEST and MOST LOVEABLE MEAN BLOND ASSHOLE?? Well then this is the tournament for you!

read this if you're new

complete list under cut. the order of images does not reflect matchups.

Champagne Bracket (alphabetized by media)

Sakyo Furuichi from A3! Act! Addict! Actors! Kristoph Gavin from Ace Attorney Veruca Salt from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (musical) Clotted Cream Cookie from Cookie Run Yoshiki Kishinuma from Corpse Party Jiwoo from Dandelion - Wishes Brought To You - Byakuya Togami from Danganronpa Hiyoko Saionji from Danganronpa Eichi Tenshouin from Ensemble Stars Nazuna Nito from Ensemble Stars Karin Sauer from Fear and Hunger Rufus Shinra from Final Fantasy Zenos yae Galvus from Final Fantasy XIV Sharpay Evans from High School Musical Vace from I Was a Teenage Exocolonist Natsume Minami from Idolish7 Cindy from Kindergarten Felix from Kindergarten Larxene from Kingdom Hearts Kromer from Limbus Company Johnny Cage from Mortal Kombat Mikhael / THE MAVERICK from OMORI Ryuji Sakamoto from Persona 5 Bede from Pokémon Sword and Shield Oleana from Pokémon Sword and Shield Babette from Raggedy Ann and Andy A Musical Adventure Haley from Stardew Valley Joshua Kiryu from The World Ends With You Clownpiece from Touhou Project: Legacy of Lunatic Kingdom Vil Shoenheit from Twisted Wonderland Camus from Uta no Prince-sama Ryuji Goda from Yakuza Honey Bracket (alphabetized by media)

Andrew Minyard from All for the Game Mean Generic Golden Retriever from Anon Ask (link) War from Bonus Links AU by @bonus-links Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes Richard Lazarus from Doctor Who MacKenzie Hollister from Dork Diaries Ryusui Nanami from Dr. Stone The Blond "weird sister"/"bride of dracula" from Dracula Arte Ente Conchita from Evillious Chronicles Dave Strider from Homestuck Dirk Strider from Homestuck Trophy from Inanimate Insanity Emma Frost from Marvel Comics (usually X-men titles) Brittnay Matthews from Most Popular Girls in School Ambrosius Goldenloin from Nimona (comic) Danburite “Danny” Skinner the OC of @porcelain-animatronic Rose Thorburn Jr. from Pact (art by @wraith_ly on twitter) Brandish/Carol Dallon from Parahumans (art by @cpericardium Glory Girl/Victoria Dallon from Parahumans (art by @cpericardium) Goddess/Bianca from Parahumans (art by raikiri on reddit) Tattletale/Lisa Wilbourn from Parahumans (art by monkeyjay on reddit) Shaka from Saint Seiya Thranduil from The Hobbit Achilles from The Illiad (art by ancient greek polychromatic pottery painter c. 300BC) Ianthe Tridentarius from The Locked Tomb (art by @starcanist) Dorian Gray from The Picture of Dorian Gray Adam Parrish from The Raven Cycle Rachel from Tower of God Arlo from Unordinary Mathis Quigley Sr. from Unsounded Benedict from Violet Evergarden Linton Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights

Platinum Bracket (alphabetized by media) Brad Morton from American Dragon: Jake Long Biff Tannen from the Back to the Future Trilogy Patriarchy!Ken from Barbie Howard Hamlin from Better Call Saul Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer Johnny Lawrence from Cobra Kai/Karate Kid Daring Charming from Ever After High Ed Rooney from Ferris Bueller's Day Off Zap Brannigan from Futurama Joffrey from Game of Thrones Gideon from Gravity Falls Heather Chandler from Heathers Helga Pataki from Hey Arnold Simon from Infinity Train Dee Reynolds from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia Cindy from Jimmy Neutron Ankh from Kamen Rider OOO Villanelle from Killing Eve Regina George from Mean Girls Arthur Pendragon from Merlin Skwisgaar Skwigelf from Metalocalypse Chloé Bourgeois from Miraculous Ladybug Steff McKee from Pretty in Pink Angelica Pickles from Rugrats Gunther and Tinka Hessenheffer from Shake It Up Prince Charming from Shrek Bartleby Montclair from Sonic Underground Illya Kuryakin from The Man From UNCLE (2015) Lyle Lanley from The Simpsons Tom "Iceman" Kazansky from Top Gun Julia from Total Drama / Total Takes Flash Thompson from Ultimate Spider-Man Strawberry Bracket (alphabetized by media) Lilith Bristol from Absolute Duo Rio from Assassination Classroom Mello from Death Note Beelzebumon from Digimon Tamers Laxus Dreyar from Fairy Tail Edward Elric from Fullmetal Alchemist Char Aznable from Gundam Kei Tsukishima from Haikyuu!! Shaiapouf from Hunter x Hunter Anzu Futaba from Idolm@ster: Cinderella Girls Dio Brando from Jojo's Bizarre Adventure Isobe from Kamisama Kiss Nozomu Nanashima from Kiss Him Not Me Hanazawa Teruki from Mob Psycho 100 Katsuki Bakugo from My Hero Academia Neito Monoma from My Hero Academia Arcangelo Corelli from Neo Yokio Cavendish from One Piece Donquixote Doflamingo from One Piece Sanji from One Piece Panty Anarchy from Panty and Stocking Nanami Kiryuu from Revolutionary Girl Utena Jadeite from Sailor Moon Zoisite from Sailor Moon Akagi Ritsuko from Shin Seiki Evangelion Sofia from Space Dandy Kuusuke Saiki from The Disastrous Life of Saiki K Ryou Shirogane from Tokyo Mew Mew Sylvio Sawatari from Yugioh Arc V Malik/Marik Ishtar from Yugioh Duel Monsters Mizael from Yugioh Zexal Yuri Plisetsky from Yuri on Ice The brackets are based on the type of media they are from. It isn't perfect but I think that is okay. I was thinking of posting all the initial matchups, but I've decided I don't want to change them as they are now and I also want them to be surprises.

#blond jerk tournament #participant list #strawberry bracket #platinum bracket #honey bracket #champagne bracket

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