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figsnpassionfruits · 11 months ago

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Turbulences

a/n: ahh where were all these fics when i was 15 and desperately longing for logannnnn?!?!!? anyway- here is another source of logan fics: me <33 word count: 748 tags: logan howlett x fem!reader (can be read as gn!), angst, fluff' warnings: mentions of death, canon-typical violence implications, logan having logan feelings dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive pictures are from pinterest

He should have known this would have happened. When sent by the X-Men to go change the past; he should have known. Out of all the years he had been alive, why here? Why did he have to land right here? Logan had spent years trying to forget about this. Trying to forget about you. And here you were being the big spoon, an arm thrown over his neck, a leg of yours intertwined with his within the messy sand-colored bedsheets.

Even though he had just gotten here, he knew exactly where he was. This was the home you both shared together. The place the both of you had spent weeks decorating, eager to call one another each other’s home. He knew it even before he opened his eyes, his enhanced sense of smell dominating his being. When he finally collected his strength to open his eyes, he inhaled deeply. Maybe it was to inhale your scent. Maybe it was an effort to calm himself. Regardless, he did not even know which one it was for.

Once his eyes adjusted to the warm morning sun beaming through the windows, he placed a hand on your wrist, closing his eyes slowly as he did. It hurt him. He did not deserve to get to touch you again. Not after knowing that your fate was inevitable. Logan let out a long and shaky sigh, blinking his eyes open, not allowing a single tear to form. His hand was still on your wrist, his mind yelling at him to let go but his body desperately clinging for the familiar feeling of holding a lover.

After another deep breath and wrestling with his inner thoughts, Logan allowed himself to rub his thumbs along his grip he had on your skin. It was as soft as he remembered. Without letting himself think too much, he pulled your arm up to his face to place a soft kiss on one of your knuckles. Instinctively, he leaned his head down, resting his nose on your hand, inhaling your scent further.

Not realizing it, a tear had fallen onto your skin. Logan watched the salty drop of liquid trickling down your wrist, the sunrays making it shimmer. As a response your wrist twitched, the feeling of the water alerting your body in your deep state of sleep. Not wanting it to disturb you any further, Logan wiped off the remains with the same thumb he had caressed your skin with.

Perhaps seconds passed, perhaps minutes; Logan decided that it was time to face you. There was no running anymore. He was in this room with you at your old home that held the best memories of his life. You were here and you were alive. Either way, he had an objective, a mission, that he was sent to complete. No matter how much he wanted to forget about that, the way he wanted to forget about you, he could not. And it fucking hurt.

Resting his body weight on a forearm, Logan sat up slightly, turning his body to face your sleeping frame.

There you were.

Messy bed hair, slightly apart lips and as beautiful as he remembered.

Reluctantly he put a hand on your cheek, his breath hitching once his skin made contact with yours. This felt so wrong. But this was how it always should have been. Domestic and intimate. Any physical contact reminded him of your death. There were too many answers that he had never gotten. Were you screaming? Was it quick? Did you suffer? Were you scared? All he knew was that he was responsible. If you had never met him, you would not have died.

Lost in his thoughts, Logan ignored the stinging feeling in his eyes, indicating yet another tear close to escaping. He travelled his other hand underneath the sheets, resting it at the small of your waist, caressing the skin while thanking the universe that you were a heavy sleeper.

He did not want to allow himself to kiss you. He did not deserve it.

But you did.

With a glance at the clock hanging across from your bed, Logan fixed his gaze back onto you, taking in every feature of yours. He did not have much time.

Exhaling a breath he did not he was holding, Logan finally closed the distance, delivering a kiss to your lips.

He had to get up and leave now. He knew he did.

But he really did not want to.

🍯

#marvel #x men #x-men #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #angst #fluff

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hntnsshi · 5 months ago

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Beads of sweat trickled down the nape of your neck. Your muscles felt tense, stomach doing somersaults full of worry as you keep side-glancing the phone laid on top of the coffee table. In front of you, a pair of crimson eyes was boring into said phone which successfully heightened your anxiety even more.

Shadow had his lip on a tight line with a look that screamed ‘what and why are we doing this’ directed at the small rectangular object— the source of your main worries. No words was spoken between the two of you, and it’s not as if he demanded to access your phone right away. Shadow had always respected your privacy despite knowing how weird you had been reacting after being prompted to show your phone to the dark hedgehog. There was no suspicion nor forceful remarks. It was just the two of you and your blasted phone in the middle of the room.

“…you don’t have to do this,” in the midst of the silence, Shadow softly murmured. You could hear the slight strain underneath his voice, “I understand if you have boundaries to keep. You shouldn’t waste your time for something so meaningless,” even when he’s trying to reassure you, deep down you could sense that maybe Shadow was a little bit upset for not gaining enough of your trust after all these years. You had spent enough time with him to catch on the micro gestures Shadow used to express himself at times, and it pained you for being so secretive around him when he had come a long way to finally open up bit by bit towards you.

It’s not like you’re hiding something big, anyway! It’s just—

Inhale, then exhale. You shook your head in disagreement, gaze fixed into Shadow’s with determination as you reached to your phone. Your fingers swiftly tapped against the screen pads before the lock screen transitioned away with a clicking sound. With a gentleness you didn’t expect you have, your free hand clasped onto Shadow’s gloved ones— enjoying the warmth radiating from his palm for a moment before guiding it below your phone. You gave Shadow a nudge as his name escaped past your lips with a certain tenderness to it. The latter lifted his head at your call, eyes wide and uncertain after you let go of the cold metallic object on his hand. Shadow held his breath slightly when his fingers were guided inward to grasp on your phone, your hold firm against his before letting go.

Shadow went silent for a while, “Are you… sure about this?”

Well, you’re not hiding anything suspiciously harmful (?) if you could be honest. Heck— you often yap to Shadow about the weird conversations you had with your friends or family (He would nod in silence, attentively listening despite not knowing the modern terms you occasionally throw here and there. You might get teary with how the guy was trying his best to understand your brain rot slangs by asking questions and memorizing them down for future reference). You also felt comfortable playing your games in front of the brooding guy (he enjoyed the quality time spent with you even in silence), Shadow probably knew what kind of applications you use to spend your time at this point.

So you nodded, encouraging him to go through your phone.

And so Shadow did.

You tried your best not to screech as if you’re insane the moment he flicked the screen open. The tension building inside you spiked high and low in a drastic pace each time his fingers hovered over the gallery app, only to touch something else. Maybe Shadow knew from the way you were fidgeting on the end of your sleeves, or the way you chew on your bottom lip whenever he eyed the unassuming application. Either way, he finally came to the last thing he hadn’t gone through : the cursed phone gallery.

As a chronically online person who had a habit of hyper fixating on what you love, saving TONS of media inside your gallery wasn’t a surprising thing to do. You saved pictures, recorded videos, edited random things to express your hobby no matter how absurd it was— no matter the shape and form, your artistic desire burned brightly as a way to channel your passion in a harmless way.

The same rule also applied to how you convey your feelings to the silent hedgehog who was currently at loss for words.

You didn’t want to bother Shadow with your bottled up affection. You understand he hated people who went too far with his personal space, so it became a norm to tip toe around the male and only initiate physical contact when necessary. Saving Shadow’s pictures in a stalker-ish manner was wrong, but it’s not as if you’re taking any of his pictures secretly when it’s only the two of you! You had Rouge to thank for that (It was a joke at first— a means to have blackmail materials where Rouge would send you Shadow’s candid pictures while they’re on a mission. It became a bad habit where she relished on your joyful squeals eventually).

Yeah, this was it. You sobbed internally, flushing from embarrassment while begging to crawl back into the hole you came from due to the unreadable expression plastered across Shadow’s face. Oh dear, judging by the lack of immediate reaction coming from Shadow, his self-restraint was amazing compared to how you would feel if you were on his shoes. Because let’s be real here,

Who wouldn’t crash out if they saw HUNDREDS of pictures and videos of themselves, on someone ELSE’S phone gallery?

A popular sped-up music you used for an edit of Shadow’s pictures suddenly blasted through the phone speakers. You couldn’t help but wince at the volume, second-hand embarrassment clearly biting you back on the butt. The cheerful track now stuck on a loop since Shadow’s gaze stayed still— hands frozen on place.

And then his eyes met yours. Brows glowered, muzzle scrunched up into a deep scowl to show his irritation and shame.

“… This looks stupid. Why would you even enjoy this kind of thing?”

But the way his cheeks flared with a shade of deep crimson and his bashful look begged to differ.

#yanz writing #sonic x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #oh hey look im back to write something stupid again #this is so self indulgent im crying im sorry

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mew-ya · 1 year ago

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i love maren, he's so cool!!! has he met luffy???

YES, there's a short filler arc between Zou and Whole Cake Island where Maren and Luffy meet briefly!!! it's called Dinner Island!! they also may have met during marineford but considering how huge it was, I haven't really written Maren to be at the center of it, as he's part of the WBP 8th Division.

I also have this cute (definitely canon) art of Luffy stealing off Kata and Maren's plates

click thru for an overview of Maren's filler arc!

while on their way to Totto Land, the Sanji Retrieval Team nearly starves. they come across a curious sign floating in the water that says "Free Dinner!* This Way!" with a very small footnote that says "*within reason". Luffy immediately turns the ship in the direction of the sign, while Nami explains it's obviously a trap, but they dont have many other options as luffy cooked all of their rations into inedible sludge...

they arrive at a small but very delicuous looking island, and are immediately greeted by its residents. no one seems to mind that they are pirates and everyone seems quite happy. they're quickly brought to a large feast where the crew is brought plates upon plates of free food, until Luffy exhausts their food sources and frustrates the local leadership. they pull out a document that has the words "Free Dinner Within Reason" highlighted over and over, and explain that Luffy was NOT being reasonable. He laughs about it then is dragged off to do dishes in prison with a comically full stomach. Nami lets him figure that one out on his own.

underneath the island is a large prison with tons of unwashed forks and knives and plates stacked up by the sides. Luffy makes a stink face and knocks over a bunch of plates on accident, then notices a large prison cell in the corner with a sitting dark figure.

"hey." it calls out.

Luffy responds with an "oyy?? you eat a lot too?" and Maren steps into the light, a huge porcupinefish fishman with a Whitebeard Pirates tattoo showing through a rip on his pant leg.

"sure. but can't really compare to that stuff over in totto land. you can even eat the chairs there. won't catch me goin back there again though--" Maren continues to talk, revealing all sorts of insider details and information about Totto Land and its resident pirate crew, but Luffy stops listening and starts thinking about buildings and objects and vehicles made of food.

Maren notices Luffy spacing out and drooling over unreal food and laughs. "youre just like Ace said!" but Luffy doesn't notice.

"Oy kid," Luffy snaps out of it and looks at Maren. "I'll get you outta here. they just throw people in here to scare em. im maren by the way."

Maren shrinks down to normal human size and his spines disappear from his back, allowing him to step easily through the large prison bars. he opens Luffy's prison door and points towards the exit, "That'll get you back to your ship." then Maren walks back into his cell and inhales deeply, getting huge again. He then lays down on the big jail bed and turns away "now be quiet, I'm sleepin."

and Luffy yells "Thanks balloon guy!!!" as he runs off, but Maren is already passed tf out.

luffy gets back on the sunny and recounts his adventure, completely unable to repeat any of the details about Totto Land or the Charlotte family Maren passed onto him about their coming adventure.

and that's my quick story of Luffy and Maren actually meeting ❣️

#dinner island #mew art #maren #mew oc #katamaren #one piece oc #mew talks #mew writes #kinda #monkey d. luffy

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actuallythatgirl · 10 months ago

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The Final Battle Alastor X Reader PT 2

Part one part two

The final battle, but instead of Alastor taking the hit, you do.

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I drift in the void, weightless as if submerged in an ocean of silence. A strange calm settles over me, the voice of my thoughts echoing faintly in the distance. But just as quickly as it came, the peace is shattered. I'm yanked from the darkness, violently thrust into a blinding storm of white and green. My eyes cracked open, half-lidded, struggling to focus as the colors swirled and clashed in front of me, chaotic and disorienting.

Pain tears through me—sharp, burning—centering in my stomach. Each ragged breath feels like it's being forced through broken glass. Something—no, things—slam into my body, one after the other, and a high-pitched ringing fills my ears, muting everything else. I can’t tell where I am or why this is happening. My mind is slipping; I am desperate to understand but unable to.

I want to give up. My body screams for it, for an end to the suffering, for a release—a second death. But death won’t come. I’m trapped, suspended in this unrelenting agony. I lay there, barely conscious, while objects continued to strike me as if I were nothing more than a target. The brilliant lights continue to dance across my vision, mocking my helplessness.

With what little strength I have left, I lift a hand to my face, fingers trembling as I try to wipe away the blur clouding my sight. For a moment, clarity breaks through the haze.

Fuck. He’s pissed.

Alastor’s eyes burn with a ferocity that sends a chill down my spine, the usual smugness gone, replaced by something primal, deadly. His whole body thrums with murderous intent, his gaze locked onto Adam like a predator ready to tear its prey apart. The air around him seems to crackle, the danger radiating off him in waves.

Before I can make sense of it, the darkness swallows me again.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wake up gasping for air, only to choke on a mouthful of dust. Each breath feels like inhaling broken glass. Groaning, I roll over, fighting to pull myself off this godforsaken ground. My hand weakly pushes my hair back from my face as I force my eyes open. The brightness stabs through my skull like a knife—how is it this bright in Hell? It feels like the sun is hanging right overhead, taunting me.

I push myself onto my knees, muscles trembling, and try to stand, but my legs give out, sending me crashing back down. “Fuck me,” I mutter through clenched teeth, spitting dust.

I look around, desperate to make sense of the scene. The rooftop is a wasteland. Debris and shattered bricks are scattered everywhere, all except for the outline of my body where I must have been lying. Black streaks stain the ground—ash, maybe. I force myself to focus, the world swimming in and out of clarity. My eyes drift upward to the platform above, and then I see him.

Adam. His body is skewered, impaled on a jagged piece of railing, limbs hanging lifelessly. He’s dead, his form nearly torn apart, and the sight is more grotesque than I expected. It’s over.

A weak cough cuts through the silence, jerking my attention to the source. My whole body tenses, bracing for a fight—but it’s not an enemy. It’s Alastor.

He’s sprawled out on the ground, barely moving. His clothes are tattered and torn in places, and the usual sharpness he carries is gone. He’s lying face down, one arm stretched out toward me, almost as if he was reaching for something. For me. I can’t see how badly he’s hurt, but I know.

It’s really. Fucking. Bad.

“No, no, no, no.” It’s all I can manage to choke out as I crawl over the debris, the sharp edges slicing into my hands and knees, each movement a fresh agony. I try to reach him, but my progress is slow and painful.

Alastor must hear me because he lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine. He looks halfway to death, blood trickling down his face and staining his lips. His eyes hold a deep emotion I can’t quite decipher, a mixture of pain and something else—something unsettling.

“Don’t. Move.” His voice is strained, almost a command. The usual static is gone, replaced by a raw, urgent tone.

I’m caught off guard but remain still, the words striking me more deeply than I expected. Alastor’s eyes lock onto mine, intense and unyielding. “You’re hurt,” he says, his voice sharp, but beneath it, there’s an edge of fear. It’s as if he’s terrified that if I keep moving, I’ll only hurt myself further.

Despite the blood and pain, he forces himself off the ground, stumbling toward me. Each step seems to torture him more; his body is wracked with pain so severe it’s almost audible.

“You’re hurt too,” I say firmly, my heart aching at the sight of him. I silently beg him to stop, to stay down, to avoid pushing himself further.

“My dear, you are in far worse condition,” he replies, his tone carrying a hint of taunt. The words are sharp, but there’s a wince of regret in his eyes as he speaks, a flicker of guilt he doesn’t voice.

Alastor stumbles closer, his movements pained but stubbornly determined. His usual elegant demeanor is shattered, his suit tattered and smeared with blood and grime. Every step seems to cost him dearly, but his pride forces him forward.

“Stop!” I almost shout, my voice breaking. “You’re in no condition to move!”

He halts a few feet away, his face contorted with pain yet still managing to hold that infuriatingly calm and composed expression. He offers a strained, almost mocking smile that fails to reach his eyes. “I’d be remiss if I allowed you to suffer alone, dear,” he says, his voice grating with effort.

I see the strain in every line of his face. His usual self-assuredness is overshadowed by the harsh reality of his injuries. He’s pushing himself beyond his limits, driven by his own twisted sense of duty.

When Alastor finally reaches me on the roof, he collapses onto his back, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He stares up at the sky as if seeking answers from the heavens.

“My dear?” he says, his voice strained but carrying an undertone of concern.

I look over him, desperately trying to assess his injuries, my own body trembling from the effort and pain. “Y-Yes?” I manage to reply, my voice shaky.

Suddenly, Alastor’s hand shoots out, grabbing my face with a firm grip. His eyes, usually so calculating and controlled, are now wide with a fierce, almost frantic intensity. “Why. The fuck. Would you do that?” he demands, his voice cracking with a mix of frustration and disbelief.

I feel like I’m pinned, every part of me caught in the gravity of his gaze. This is the moment where my actions are laid bare, and the weight of my decision hits me with full force. How do I even begin to explain this?

I could try to articulate the tangled mess of emotions swirling inside me—how I’ve been in love with him, how the fear of losing him drove me to act recklessly, and how I knew he’d be angry but felt I had no choice—but saying that out loud feels impossible, too raw and exposing.

Instead, I sigh, the words caught in my throat. “I… I”

Alastor’s eyes narrow, his frustration evident in the sharpness of his gaze. His grip on my face tightens slightly as if trying to force the answer out of me. “I want a real answer,” he says, his voice low and harsh. “Not some pathetic explanation.”

I am NOT going to answer that question. I would rather die. “I'm sorry… I can't give you the answer to that question.”

His eyes flash with irritation, his jaw clenching. For a moment, I brace myself for a harsher reaction, expecting him to snap. Instead, he releases my face abruptly, letting his hand fall away as he glares down at me, his expression unreadable.

“Can’t or won’t?” His voice is icy, the static of his usual tone creeping back in. “You think I’ll just let that slide?”

The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air. I feel the sting of his disappointment, but I can’t bring myself to explain—not now, not like this. I'd rather face whatever wrath he has in store than expose the raw vulnerability behind my decision.

As the silence stretches between us, I can feel the tension thickening. Alastor’s question echoes in my mind, but I can’t find the strength to answer it. His eyes remain fixed on me, his irritation growing with every passing second.

“You think avoiding the truth will keep you safe?” he asks, his voice steady but laced with simmering anger. “I’m not the type to let things go so easily, my dear.”

I swallow hard, the weight of his words pressing down on me. He’s not wrong—Alastor never lets anything slip through his fingers without fully understanding it. But I can’t tell him, not here, not now.

When I don’t respond, his expression a mask of cold determination. “If you won’t answer, I’ll find out on my own. But don’t think you’ll like how I do it.” The threat is veiled behind his usual charisma, but the meaning is clear.

Alastor’s eyes, though still sharp with frustration, soften slightly as he holds my gaze. The anger in his expression seems to waver, revealing a deeper, more vulnerable side of him. His eyes remain locked on mine, filled with a mix of pain and confusion.

“Threats like this are why I don’t say,” I say, my voice trembling with a mix of hurt and defiance. “I risked my life for you, and now you’re threatening me? After everything that’s happened?”

Alastor’s grip on my face loosens, and he visibly struggles with his emotions. His usual confidence is replaced by a troubled expression, and he seems momentarily lost for words. The anger in his eyes fades, leaving behind a raw, genuine concern that he can’t completely mask.

“I... I’m not used to this,” he admits, his voice rough but softer than before. “You’ve put yourself at risk for me, and... it’s not something I can easily overlook.”

Seeing him like this, vulnerable and conflicted, breaks my heart. Despite everything, I can’t just stand by and let him suffer. I need to help him, no matter how he feels about my actions.

“Please, let me help you,” I say softly, stepping closer to him. “You’re hurt, and you need care. I know you’re angry, but I can’t leave you like this.”

Alastor’s eyes flash, and he wipes some of the blood from his face, clearly trying to regain his composure. “You’re making this far more dramatic than necessary, dear,” he says, his usual mocking tone creeping back, but there’s something underneath it—a tension in his voice he’s not fully hiding. “You’ve taken quite a hit yourself. You should be resting.”

“I’m fine,” I insist, even though every inch of my body protests. “You’re barely on your feet, Alastor. Just let me help. Please.”

He laughs—low and soft, the sound of it more strained than usual. “Help me? You’re the one who decided to throw yourself into danger. How thoughtful of you. But you need more care than I do.”

His attempt at deflecting falls flat this time. I can see how much it’s costing him just to keep up this facade. “Stop pretending, Alastor,” I snap, my frustration finally bubbling over. “You can’t just brush this off. You’re hurt. You need to let someone take care of you, for once.”

He pauses, his eyes narrowing, but not in anger—more as if I’ve struck a chord he wasn’t prepared for. His lips twitch into a faint smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m quite used to taking care of myself, darling,” he says quietly as if admitting something he usually keeps buried. “That’s how I’ve survived. It’s... easier that way.”

I step closer, my voice softer but firm. “You don’t have to now.”

For a moment, it seems like he might argue again, but instead, he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” He takes a shaky breath, wincing. “But if I’m to let you help, you’ll be sitting down first. You look like you could collapse any moment.”

I shake my head, trying to hide how shaky I feel, but before I can argue, he cuts me off with a raised hand. “No more protests. Let’s both stop pretending we’re invincible, hmm?”

The tension between us seems to ease, and though there’s still that stubborn glint in his eyes, there’s something softer now—an unspoken understanding.

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@junieshohoho @martinys-world @1infp1 @alastorsgirl48 @tmntfangirl15love

#alastor #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin alastor #hazbin #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin fanfic #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vox #hazbin art #vizziepop #hazbin hotel fandom #fluff #alastor fluff

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foxyeemisfit · 1 year ago

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INHALER OSO IS REAALLL

#inhaler #inhaler oso #oso inhaler #oso #open source objects #object show #osc art #object show gijinka #gjinka #headcanon #inhaler open source objects #object show community #object show character

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lovecumdumpy · 2 months ago

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fracture

part I summary ⭑ A full moon brings with it a strange surge of magic that unsettles Ever After High—and Raven Queen most of all. While investigating the magical disturbance, she stumbles upon a strange object that leaves a mark deeper than she expects. All the while, Cerise watches quietly, drawn to Raven’s unraveling in ways she doesn’t yet understand.

The halls chittered and buzzed with magic as Raven Queen walked through them—more than usual, and that was saying something.

The full moon sat heavy and bright atop Ever After High, casting its glow like a watchful eye. Its presence had incited a magical surge across the school. Enchanted objects were on the fritz, students’ powers flickered out of control, and nothing seemed quite... grounded. The air itself pulsed with a low thrum of electricity. Everyone felt it—students, staff, even the castle walls themselves seemed to hum. There hadn’t been a warning, no tell-tale omens or creeping build-up. Just... a shift. Sudden. Sharp. As if the universe had exhaled and forgotten how to inhale again.

And so, naturally, Raven had been chosen to investigate. Lucky her.

Headmaster Grimm, in his infinite wisdom, deemed her “qualified” thanks to her “magical aptitude”—which, let’s be honest, really just meant she was powerful and vaguely concerning. That’s how she found herself trekking through what felt like miles of polished tile and identical hallway walls, all to reach the most isolated wing on campus: the Ever After Archives.

The grand doors stood before her now—tall as a tower and just as old. Even in her heels, she’d have to crane her neck to see the top. The wood was blackened oak, carved with sigils long faded and covered in a fine film of dust that glittered faintly under the moonlight streaming through the stained-glass windows.

A warmth flickered to life in her fingertips as she reached for the doorknob. A shimmer that ran up her arm and sank into her bones. Ever since the moon reached its peak, her magic had shifted—still hers, but different. Warmer. Wilder. More... alive.

There was something in this room. Sure, the Archives were full of somethings—cursed objects, long-forgotten spellbooks, ancient enchantments humming in their slumber. But this was different. This something was awake. And it was reacting to her.

She wrapped both hands around the aged bronze handle, braced herself, and heaved. The oak groaned like a waking beast, releasing a puff of dust thick enough to make her cough. But the doors opened.

And she stepped inside.

The Archives were massive—larger than she'd imagined. Towering shelves stretched into the gloom above, packed tight with spell scrolls, sealed tomes, and relics encased in enchanted glass. The silence was heavy, not just quiet but waiting. Even the motes of dust in the air seemed to hang in place, as if they were listening.

Headmaster Grimm had told her to “make sure the room was stabilized.” Sure. No big deal. Just keep an entire ancient magical vault from tearing itself apart. She took a breath—and then coughed again when the breath filled her lungs with dust—and tried to center herself.

Start somewhere, she told herself. Maybe that bookshelf near the far corner—

Oh.

There it was again. That warmth inside her. Brighter this time. Hotter. Like a sun flare in her bloodstream. Her eyes flicked around, searching for the source, but her body was already moving. Her feet guided her, silent and sure. She didn’t need to think; her magic had already chosen a path.

Fingers trailing along spines of books and scrolls, past glittering lockboxes and crystalline baubles—she felt the pull intensify. Magnetic. Familiar. Hungry.

Then she saw it.

Tucked away in a forgotten alcove, barely visible behind a clutter of books and trinkets, sat an object veiled in a dusty cloth. It glowed faintly beneath the fabric, pulsing like a heartbeat. Her own magic surged in response—white hot, sparking beneath her skin.

She reached out.

The moment her fingers touched the cloth, a jolt ran through her arm like fire on ice. She pulled the fabric away and took hold of the glowing object. Dust spiraled into the air like disturbed spirits, revealing the mirror. What a small thing it was. Palm-sized, fitting perfectly in Raven's hand. It was gleaming. Polished. Seemingly untouched by time.

And in it… was her.

But not her.

The Raven in the mirror had the same pale skin, the same dark hair and purple highlights, the same everything. Well, almost everything. Her eyes, her features- everything felt sharper. Colder. Minute differences, yes. But jarring enough to make it clear that this was not Raven.

Not the girl trying to rewrite her destiny. Not the student trying to do good in a world that feared her name. This version stood proud in a floor-length gown of obsidian silk, her eyes dark and hard, a crown of thorns perched effortlessly in her dark waves. The Evil Queen.

A chill ran down Raven’s spine. The reflection didn’t mimic her movements anymore—it moved on its own, smiling ever so slightly, raising a regal, authoritative hand in silent invitation.

This is what you could be, the mirror seemed to whisper. This is who you were meant to be.

Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, faster than it should have been. Not fear exactly—something more like dread laced with recognition. That girl in the mirror wasn’t a stranger. She was a possibility.

She was temptation.

“No,” Raven whispered, breath catching. “That’s not me.”

But the girl in the glass tilted her head ever so slightly, like she’d heard, and disagreed. Her smile deepened. A cruel, knowing curve of lips.

The warmth in Raven’s veins was boiling now, her magic pulsing in sync with the mirror’s glow. It wanted her to reach out. To touch the glass. To accept. To remember what it felt like to have power without guilt, without hesitation. To stop running from what the world assumed she would become and just... become it.

Her free fingers twitched at her side.

“No,” she said again, louder this time. Her voice echoed off the high stone walls, brittle and thin against the silence.

The mirror’s glow flared.

Raven flinched, stumbling back into a low shelf that rattled with ancient scrolls, still gripping the mirror's frame. Something hissed and uncoiled behind the glass of a nearby lockbox. The entire room felt like it had awakened—dozens of magical artifacts humming to life, reacting to her fear, her power, her presence.

She needed to leave.

But her body wasn’t cooperating. Her feet were heavy. Her eyes locked with the ones in the mirror—malignant, regal, endlessly sure. Her throat felt dry.

“Raven?”

The voice came from behind her. Quiet. Familiar.

Her head snapped toward it—and for a moment, the spell broke.

Cerise Hood stood just inside the Archives, half-shadowed in the doorway. Her hood was pulled low, but Raven knew her anywhere—the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her voice could slice through fog without ever raising above a murmur. And now, her expression was caught somewhere between concern and caution.

Raven’s lips parted, unsure what she was about to say. Something between help me and you shouldn’t be here.

Cerise took a careful step forward. “Are you okay?”

“I—” Raven glanced back down at the mirror in her hand.

It was empty.

Just her reflection now. Disheveled. Pale. Wide-eyed.

The crown of thorns was gone. So was the gown. No smirking version of herself stared back at her from the glass.

Just her.

Raven swayed on her feet, the weight of what she’d seen—or imagined—crashing over her like a tide.

Cerise was at her side in an instant, steadying her with a firm, grounding hand on her arm.

"Raven, hey." Her voice was quiet, but sure. And just like that, the room stilled. Not humming. Not haunted. Just... still.

Raven met her eyes—deep, steady, dark like the woods she came from—and nodded once.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Without ceremony, she slipped the mirror into her coat pocket. It was heavier than it should have been.

She didn’t look back as Cerise led them out of the Archives. And the moment the doors creaked shut behind them, Raven felt the whispering stop.

But the warmth in her blood didn’t. In fact, it burned hotter than ever.

#ever after high #raven queen #cerise hood #raven x cerise #eah #eah raven #eah cerise #raven queen x cerise hood

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pool-floatie · 2 years ago

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Tall Tales Part 1.

Ok: to premise, this is my first ever work that I have posted, ive reread it a billion times anxiously and im finally gonna post it, dont have any art of the characters rn, use your ⭐imagination⭐ and or self insert 😏👍

The relationship can be taken romantically or platonically at this point, but it will have romance later on.

Here we go!

Avril unknowingly wanders off the path , as the trailmarkers are unclear and it is fairly new, they follow a straight clearing of trees, taking a left, walking for about a mile and going in a few circles.... and finally realise that they are lost. "noooo... .shit.."

They stay put, not knowing where to go and begin to call out to anything around them....

"Helloooooo!!!!!" they bellowed

"Im lost can anyone hear me !!!!"

Silence.....

That is until the slow rythm of the shaking ground became apparent, they looked around, fearing that an earthquake or rockslide would be their next challenge. Unable to pinpoint the source, Avril sprinted to the middle of the clearing, knowing they would be safer from falling objects.

The shaking persists, becoming louder, the pauses between make them wonder what the hell would make this sort of noise... None of their guesses were correct.

While wandering the forest, Jace senses something peculiar in the air, a scent he hadnt smelled in a while...

He approached the source, seeing a clearing, and right in the center. . .

Was that a human ? Jace smiled to himself, heheh, this would be fun~

Jace attempts to be lightfooted, it seems to have worked, in a way, as the human cannot tell where the massive tremors originate, it looks around jolting its head back and forth- Jace steps out of his hiding spot behind the thick foliage, revealing himself to the tiny being who is speechless at the sight of him. Crouching down and idly resting his chin in his hands, Jace takes in it's delightful look of shock and disbelief.

Avril stumbles backwards, attempting to fully take in the impossible sight before them. unable to form coherent thought, let alone words, avril can only stand there, eyes torn open, mouth agape and stuttering half-formed words.

Jace l o v e s this feeling, that look on the poor humans little face ~ mmm, he wishes he could savor it forever.

" Hello there ~" taunts the giant,

"what might you be doing wandering around here ?"

After a moments pause, trying to gather themself, the human speaks up.

"I-i-ii-im lo - lost , the- the tra-ail -"

"-Ohhhh, I see. And you managed to find yourself in my territory! How unfortunate for you~"

Avril pales, not sure what this giant was insinuating, but considering the dark tone he dropped into, they were sure that it was nothing good.

Jaces reaches a hand down, grabbing for the human.

Naturally, Avril attempts to run the fuck away, but they are promptly sprawled out on the ground by a massive hand s l a p p i n g down onto them.

Avril cries out, both from pain and fear as talon-like fingers wrap around their fragile form.

They are hoisted up quickly and flipped over onto the palm of Jaces hand.

Avril attempts to steady themself on the unfamilliar surface, their weak and pained body is assisted by adrenaline, they scramble to get off this thing and run as far away as possible, almost jumping from the surface until they realise the horrific height they have ascended to. Avril backs away slowly, sitting down and hugging their knees. Jace curls his fingers behind their back, making sure they dont fall or try to jump off again.

Avril pants and coughs from the dirt they inhaled during their capture, and Jace eyes them with curiosity.

"Whered' you come from?"

They gasp for a moment more, trying to get their bearings , Jace waits patiently

" a, um , a cam- campground" avril stutters, their bodys tremors match their voice.

With this question, Avril held hope, maybe the giant woud be taking them back?

"Mhm- and what is your name?"

"Av-ril?"

"Ohhh, that is so cute! im going to call you Av for short~"

Oh joy, nicknames.

"Well, my name is Jace." He stated simply

"Jace...?" Av spoke up nervously

"Hmm?"

"W-w what , why,. or-or .u-um"

They had so many questions, all equally terrifying to ask to an 80 ft tall being that literally had your life in its hands

Av took a breath, tremors still shaking their body " Are y- you going to- to let me go... ?" they asked with a slight glimmer of hope

Jace snickers, "let you go? Aw, now why would I want to do that? No darling your stuck with me."Jace teased.

-At least he wasnt mad I asked,,-Av thought, trying to keep a little hope so they didnt start spiraling.

"Av, I cant say I've had the pleasure to meet one of your kind before" jace said with curiosoty

"o- oh, um, same?"

"haha! Well im sure you havent! You humans are quite interesting, but I havent ever been able to get a good look at you before~"

Jaces other hand neared the human, they squeaked,backed up a bit, then, realising they could fall to their death, decided to maybe not do that and curled back into a ball instead.

Jace pinched av's arm between his fingers, not taking too much care to be gentle. Av clenched up, unsure what the behemoth wanted with them, what if he was going to tear their arm off! He could rip Avril limb from limb without breaking a sweat! Maybe he wanted to see how much meat they had on their bones.... See if they were even worth eating.

Jace could feel its tiny, tiny fingers between his huge ones, ahh, that is just too cute! His fingers slide up its arm, so little and squishy~ its cute little face was tragically covered up as it curled into itself. Jace then noticed the humans shaking , his mouth made an 'O' shape realising he may be hurting it. . . he released its arm, which was immediately pulled into the shaking ball.

"whups, you alright tiny? "

After a few seconds of no response

Jace poked it, eliciting a surprised squeak.

"What are you doing all huddled up like that ?"

Still no response came from the shivering mass

"Hmmm. . . "

Jace shifted his hand, causing the ball of human to roll for a second, letting out a short scream as it unfurled. Jace was happy to see it's little face again, it was still shaking but at least he wasnt being ignored.

He hummed in thought before pivoting in the other direction, away from avrils last connection to the human world.

#g/t #giant/tiny #my art #micro/macro #origonal work #giant #tiny #g/t fearplay #hurt/comfort #origonal character

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stripeixii-rp · 2 years ago

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☆OPEN☆

☆Vanny☆

☆Five Nights At Freddy's: Security Breach☆

Hidden away somewhere in the recesses of the building, underground in the quiet garages, she had her back pressed as firmly to a wall as possible, her heart was racing and her vision blurring. How could this happen, how could she /let/ this happen. There was blood everywhere, her blood, she couldn't stand it..

She couldn't stand the coppery smell.

It was so much different when it was her own, pumping out of her own body. She was so used to seeing it, but compared to her own shape and limbs it seemed far too much.

Finally she gathered the courage to actually try to assess the wound in her shoulder with her free hand shaking horribly. Fingers carefully sliding over the bloody area she secured a tear in the fabric, yanking it downward to expose her bare arm. Despite being covered, it still had a generous coating of crimson, enough to be seen in the barely there light. She began to wonder how bad of a wound it was, or if it just dispurst a lot of blood. She hoped for the second.

Once again shaky fingers tried to examine the wound in the darkness, all she could hear was her own heavy breathing.

Im... out...

You'll know how to take care of it if you quit fucking around.

She couldn't breath. In... out... i...i...

With a slightly panicked hand she flings it upward into the base of the mask, causing the object to fly off, hitting the ground with a thud and rolling a bit. There was a sickening crack as the mechanics inside broke upon impact. Something deep in the back of her mind said she'd need to fix it later, but that was the furthest thing from her current thoughts.

In...in...

In.... out.... in....

She couldn't focus, she wanted to vomit.

Finally she gathered enough thought to finish what she started. She gave a grunt of pain as she dug her own fingers into the wound to grab the object embedded in it, and harshly ripping it from its bloody flesh prison.

She emitted som kind of yowl as she did so, and the sound echoed along the halls, bouncing off every surface, every wall, the concrete floors, the concrete ceilings. The piece she pulled from her shoulder, hard plastic or metal, (she didn't know), fell from her hand and hit the concrete floor with a "plink!" Type noise.

There was obviously more blood and a small sense of panic flashed through her mind.

Inhaling a breath as deeply as she could she slid down the wall. As she did a tool sticking out from the metal shelving next to her sliced a gash in her thigh, without even thinking another pain filled yelp escaped her, how could she be so careless.

If she wasn't shaking before she was now. An unsteady hand found the fresh spot of warm fabric newly soaked in blood. This was great. This was fine. She was fine.

She gives a harsh breath before slowly she brings her free hand and arm to the open space left of her until it hits the metal shelving at her elbow and palm. It only a few inches away. She slowly runs her arm upward along it's design until her forearm hit the protruding object in question. Slowly running her fingers along it to avoid both hurting herself further and releasing it and who knows what else from where it's lodged.

It was just a screwdriver, thank God.

The metal tip of the tool was coated in a mixture of mechanical lubricant and blood. Nice.

Okay.

With that in mind, and a sickeningly airy feeling she let her head fall back against the wall. It gave a thud, and even hurt a bit, but that was quickly overshadowed by every other source of pain.

Trying to regain herself she once again went for the screwdriver, wiggling it back and forth to dislodge it from its cluttered prison of tool boxes and various work parts.

Freeing it came with the cost of a light shower of screws and bolts, the metal raining down and bouncing around on the cold floor seemed to echo forever.

She hated it.

She hadn't realised she left a literal trail through the harsh concrete corridors of parts and service.

#fnaf #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #vanny #fnaf vanny #fnaf sb vanny #ep #roleplay #literate rp #literate roleplay #main stripeixii #writing

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sinspark4 · 2 years ago

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Chapter 8 (The Living Wall) of How to Tame Your Seeker is now out on AO3.

Story Summary:

Come one, come all, to Blurr's class of how to tame yourself a seeker. How you may ask?

Food, a heavy helping of shiny objects (read: Glitter), and accidental heavy wing petting. Just bake it till you make it and soon enough you'll have one stumbling after your pedes. Even if that wasn't your intention. -------------------------------------- Blurr was just trying to get by. Sure this wasn't exactly how he imagined running a bar, but, eh, it was close enough. I mean, at least there was a bar attached to the bakery he found himself in charge of. Apparently, he's got a natural talent of the food variety.

Now he just needed to figure out how to shake this slagging persistent seeker off his arm while not pissing his handler off any more than he already has. He isn't sure how much longer he can pretend everything was fine while slinging batter around, covered in edible glitter (that has to be a food safety violation) And.... he didn't want to have to decide whether he thought the purring seeker with claws was cute or disconcerting.

Small excerpt after the cut, this may be spoilery for some.

He couldn’t help the small, self-disparaging grin from spreading his lips as he slammed open another door to another empty fragging room. When his comms went out, it solved the small internal debate he was struggling over. He hadn’t taken the time to wonder why they weren’t working, his AI had kindly supplied a simple explanation that it was likely damaged from the original blast knocking himself and Starscream into a short stasis. It didn’t matter how guilty he felt ignoring his friends hailing if he was unable to respond to them in the first place.

He didn’t really believe in Primus. But small, inane prayers kept popping up unhelpfully in his processor the longer this search went on. Slipping back out of the room, he turned in a circle and squinted his optics against the smoke. By now, his helm and ventilation systems had begun to ache severely from the smoke inhalation. Ash choked his filters and Blurr bent over hacking, bracing his servos against his knees. Small, thin rivulets of coolant slipped to the floor from the force of his coughing as his abused systems tried to pull in clean air.

Blurr kept telling himself, empty was good. Empty was great. Empty, meant there was a chance Firespin had gotten out already. Empty, meant at least there wasn’t a body yet.

If there was a body left that is.

The coughing trailed off into weak grunts and Blurr drug his wrist against the back of his lips. Black soot and pink energon stained the edges of the metal and he grimaced. He’d been in the smoke for far longer than he should have been by now and it was doing a number on his internals. Ratchet was going to have a field day with him if he ended up making it out of this.

Straightening up, his optics flitted around the area. The only light source in the empty halls came from his own biolights and the flames still clinging to anything flammable. Blurr faltered as the AI system highlighted a crack in the wall and started displaying structural information on his HUD. Stepping carefully, he avoided the bodies littering the floor as he cautiously made his way over to it. The energon still in their lines was dangerous, and any excess heat encountering the unstable substance could set off a new chain reaction. Something that he’d best avoid.

After a few brief kilks of careful maneuvering, Blurr is able to get himself close enough to the crack to be able to lean in. Scrutinizing the edges, he ran a fingertip along the jagged metal. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his helm. Insistent, something that wasn’t the AI. He could feel his glossa curling and a strange weary feeling started seeping into his frame. Something didn’t seem right……

The AI burst to life with a massive report, information blasting across his HUD so fast it left him feeling dizzy and sick to his tanks. Groaning, Blurr stumbled back a step and pressed a servo to his helm, scrunching his optics shut as he tried to absorb the vast amount of knowledge the AI thrusted onto him. Taking a few precious kliks to regain his bearings, Blurr started flipping through the report, gradually getting more frantic as the AI continued presenting the diagnostics of the wall structure to him.

The metal of this wall was not the same as all the others he had come across in the school. Cracking open an optic, he reached back out to the crack. 70% different make up from the others, more dense, more lead interlays. Looking closer, he could tell that it had been painted over with a color that mimicked the others in the school. Painted so well he would never have realized there was a difference if not for the damage allowing the heat to cause the paint to bubble and swell. It was made of soundproofing materials that were meant to survive severe blast damage and stay standing against an assault long enough for help to intervene. The same kind of materials that were used for interrogation rooms.

That was….suspicious. Glaring slightly, Blurr stumbled closer as there was a strange, tickling feeling in his audial. Like he should be hearing something, but it wasn’t transmitting the information correctly through his systems. Dialing up the volume didn’t do anything to help other than make the ringing noise louder and Blurr huffed. Bringing his helm down to the crack, he tried to look through it but couldn’t see anything. Whatever was on the other side was completely pitch black. He could feel a slow breeze drifting through.

Blurr frowned. This wasn’t an exterior facing wall.

Tilting his helm, he pressed an audial against the crack and waited.

#sin's ao3 tf fics #blurr x starscream #starscream #starblurr #blurr #blurr idw #ao3 writer #ao3 fic #transformers #transformers fic

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skin-anon · 23 days ago

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In the attic.

A large book rests on a desk just past the edge of the light-filled half of the attic. For those who read it, there is no title. Only a three fingered hand-print. On the first page was a key. A list of names more like. Titan, Wolf, Fox, Rat, Twins, Rascal, Audrey. Although seemingly small, there is space for more names... And a mass of letters at the bottom of the page, resembling a pile. As if they fell. Titan, first creation. Nocturnal hunter. "Of all my creations, I am most proud of what I achieved with this one. Before I mastered machinery, I mastered the understanding of magic. To think a spell could create my finest creation, an embodiment of the past, before light could grace this world. The Unknown locked within a vessel." On the appropriate page, is a small list of abilities, followed by weaknesses. Titans' sketch in the book resembles Patch if he had another wing and another arm below the oversized one. A ten floor building is drawn next to the creature, It stands at the same height. 40 meters, 130 feet. The drawing only has the single eye that dots its face. A small list of abilities are noted down below the image. One ability has a small statement written under it. Portal creation, through cutting reality. Passive space manipulation, stretching physical space to fit within any chamber. Sound manipulation, seemingly unimportant. It can repeat phrases in voices of those it either slain or heard. *Healing, A recent reveal. It picked up a failed experiment. Rat, and brought it back from deaths' door. *Requires further research, this way of healing is not the same as other sources of restoration magic. Once it finished healing Rat, it collapsed into a pile, nearly crushing the failure it just saved. It is not yet clear how dangerous it is for the Titan to heal. The weaknesses list is as follows; Light. The word is underlined three times. Weight, if something managed to damage its legs. It would not be able to even move under its own weight. Past the Titans' page is the Wolf. A purple furred humanoid creature, its hands are large metallic hooks, its' face bears no eyes and just one twisted beak. Sharp ears stand atop its head. Lines are drawn around its open beak. As if it was exhaling or inhaling. "The Titans' rider. Meant to keep it under control should the beast go on a rampage without being ordered to. Unlike the light its insides produce, it is not all that bright. Was repaired/replaced 53 times. The machinery that creates the light requires nothing from it. As durable as the core is, it will outlast the Wolf. Ensure it is not left alone to assume victory too soon." A outline reveals a spherical-object in the wolfs' chest. Seemingly replacing both lungs and the heart with how large it is. If there ARE any organs in this creature. "The core. A prison handcrafted to collect light, Wolf devours the energy of suns passively to feed the core, which fuels its body as grants the wolf its light. I theorize if it was dismantled, all the energy within would be released all at once. Without the vessel containing it. The core will simply bleed out the energy rather than lose it all. I wonder if the energy would fizzle out or go back to the stars. Would this energy even understand it was stolen?" Below the description is a pros and cons list. For whatever reason. One feels as if something is rolling its eyes at the fact someone made this list. "Pros, agile. Hooks apply good grappling and piercing, the light can blind almost everything. Have not seen what it can't blind. Able to produce hooks out of its body." "Cons, fragile. One good strike will considerable slow it down. If it produces multiple hooks out of its body, in place of close-range defense/offense increasing. It will lose out on its agility."

"Note to self, reacquire the core if Wolf perishes. Must figure out how to find should the wolf fails in its duty." "Keep away from Twins. Does not 'play well' with each other." The next page reveals what is titled a "Fox" The page is incomplete, but the sketch reveals a red creature of... either fur or fire. If the book is right, it is double Wolfs' height. 16ft Its' body, though seemingly aflame. Appears malnourished. Bones are barely hidden beneath the fiery fur. Its fingers, or what amounts as fingers. Appear damaged, crushed one could say. Four fangs peak out of its slender muzzle. Its' arms droop from its' body, bearing multiple elbow joints just to not be dragged behind it. It bears three eyes. Two normally located just above the nose, and one centered in the forehead. All three appear to be tracking you, the reader. No visible ears are seen. Its face appears to bear a frown, whether a permanent one or not is unclear. "Although cowardly, this one proves the best at acquiring information. Able to see through any accurate drawing of itself. It can reliably keep watch on one location while being on the other-side of the world. Combative wise, its only strength is that it heals at an alarming rate. Despite what happens to its body, even when starving. It heals fast. Very, fast. Has a weak mental link to Wolf, Rat, and Rascal. Requires the two to be within 240 yards of each other. The only one of my creations that I made from living tissue. I am uncertain on if the original mind is still in control or if it is forced into the 'backseat' of the Fox. All tests fail to give me a straight answer." The rest of the page was removed, the damage appears to be from a fire. Yet nothing else in the book is burnt.

The next few pages refuse to be seen, scrambling letters and images to ensure they can't be figured out. The reader feels as though the book is silently taunting them. Closing it, the handprint on the cover seems to have changed to a sharp toothed grin. Just before shifting back into the three fingered handprint.

#ramblingskin #patch #Wolf #Fox #Entity Book #Will either update or reblog with new entries as future creatures appear.#Fox has appeared #Wonder where Fox is.

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