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dxrlingluv · 15 days ago

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I will come back, always

A/N : Reposted because I forgot to put tags, so for that, I will be posting another one-shot later! This was requested, but I forgot to take a screenshot of the ask, so I apologize. Hermes art is from Zieru.

WARNING : Slight angst if you squint really really really hard. GN!reader, protective!hermes.

Word Count : 1.8k

The air in the hidden meadow always tasted of sunlight and wild honey. It was a place tucked away from the world, a forgotten fold in the fabric of the Earth that mortals had long since erased from their maps and their memories. But you remembered. It was your sanctuary, your studio, your quiet kingdom. And, for the past few blissful months, it had become a secret shared with a god.

A blur of motion, a zip of displaced air that rustled the bluebells, and he was there. Hermes, the messenger of the gods, herald of Olympus, and patron of thieves, landed before you with the grace of a feather and the harried energy of a hornet trapped in a jar.

"I'm late, I'm sorry, I know," he said all in one breath, his winged sandals, the Talaria, giving a final, impatient flutter before settling. He ran a hand through his wind-tossed hair, his eyes, the color of a stormy sky, scanning your face with a mixture of adoration and anxiety. "Zeus had a sudden craving for ambrosia tarts from Hebe's personal kitchen and decided it was a matter of cosmic importance. Then Hera needed a message delivered to Iris that was so passive-aggressively coded it took me ten minutes just to decipher the proper intonation."

You couldn't help but smile, setting aside the charcoal pencil and sketchbook you'd been using to capture the dance of light on a spider's web. "Trouble in paradise?" you asked, your voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to his divine flurry.

"You have no idea," he sighed, but the tension in his shoulders instantly melted away as he sat down beside you on the picnic blanket you'd laid out. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your temple in a greeting that was both fleeting and electric. "The only paradise I'm interested in is right here." He looked at your sketchbook. "What masterpiece were you creating today?"

"Just trying to draw the impossible," you said, gesturing to the intricate, dew-kissed web.

"The impossible is my specialty," Hermes grinned, his charm as bright and effortless as the sun. He reached into a small, unassuming leather pouch at his hip—a bag that defied mortal physics—and pulled out a nectarine. It wasn't an ordinary fruit; it glowed with a faint, golden light, and its skin was so perfect it looked spun from sunset. "For you. Picked it myself from a tree on the sun-facing slopes of Mount Pelion. The nymphs there guard them jealously, but I'm very persuasive."

You took the offered fruit, its warmth seeping into your palm. This was your life now: quiet moments of art and solitude, punctuated by the sudden, dazzling arrival of a being who moved faster than thought and stole fruit from mythical guardians just to see you smile.

"Thank you," you said softly, taking a bite. The flavor was explosive, a cascade of sweetness and warmth that tasted of summer days and ancient magic. It was nothing like the pale, earthly fruits you were used to.

Hermes watched you, a genuine, unguarded softness in his gaze, as he whispered, "Anything for you." He leaned back on his elbows, the very picture of leisure, but you could see the way his eyes kept flicking towards the sky, the way one foot tapped a restless rhythm against the ground. He was meant to be somewhere else. A hundred somewhere elses. Delivering decrees, guiding souls, overseeing the endless, chaotic commerce of gods and men. Yet, he was here, with you. The weight of that choice was a constant, shimmering presence between you.

"Tell me about your day," he prompted, eager to anchor himself in your world. "Tell me something slow."

And so you did. You spoke of the stubborn goat you'd seen on the path to the meadow, of the melody a finch had been singing, of the way the clouds were shaped like a great, lumbering beast. He listened with an intensity that made you feel like your small, mortal stories were the most important messages in the entire cosmos. For him, in these stolen moments, they were. He would laugh, his voice a rich and melodic sound, and tell you a story in return—of a squabble between Ares and Aphrodite, or a prank he'd played on a pompous minor river god.

He was in the middle of describing how he'd convinced Demeter's disciples that turnips were the new fashionable accessory when he suddenly went rigid. His head snapped up, his playful expression vanishing, replaced by the sharp, focused alertness of a wild animal.

"What is it?" you whispered, your own heart beginning to beat faster.

"Shh," he commanded, his voice low and urgent. He placed a finger on your lips, his eyes locked on the northern horizon.

You heard it a moment later. A faint, impossibly beautiful sound drifting on the wind. It was music, the clear, resonant plucking of a lyre, a melody so perfect and pure it made the leaves on the trees tremble in reverence.

"Apollo," Hermes breathed, his name a curse. He was on his feet in an instant, pulling you up with him. "My ever-so-righteous, all-seeing, golden-boy of a brother. He's looking for me. Zeus must have sent him."

Panic, cold and sharp, tried to grip you, but Hermes's hand was firm in yours. His usual breezy confidence was gone, replaced by a fierce, protective urgency. This was the other side of him—not just the charming god of wit and speed, but the cunning god of thieves, the one who knew how to hide in the shadows.

"He can't find you here," Hermes said, more to himself than to you. "He can't know about you. They wouldn't understand." He scanned the meadow, his mind working at divine speeds. "The waterfall. Come on!"

He tugged you towards the far end of the meadow, where a small, brisk stream tumbled over a rocky ledge into a deep, clear pool. Behind the curtain of cascading water was a shallow cave, slick with moss and smelling of damp earth and stone. He pushed you gently inside, the roar of the water instantly muting the world. He followed, pressing you back against the cool rock wall.

"Don't make a sound," he whispered, his body shielding yours. Through the shimmering sheet of water, the meadow was a distorted, wavering painting of green and gold. The lyre music grew louder, closer. It was so achingly beautiful it felt like a physical pressure, a demand for truth and revelation.

Apollo's voice, as golden as his music, echoed across the meadow. "Hermes! Brother! The All-Father grows impatient! Your duties await. Cease your aimless wandering and show yourself!"

You held your breath, your cheek pressed against the rough fabric of Hermes's chiton. You could feel the frantic thrum of his heart against your own. He was a god, powerful and immortal, but here, hiding in a damp cave, he seemed terrifyingly vulnerable.

"I know you delight in your games of concealment," Apollo's voice continued, closer now. He sounded amused, as if this were just another one of Hermes's childish pranks. "But a message of great import must be carried to the Underworld. A king has died. The shades grow restless at the banks of the Styx. It is no time for truancy."

A king had died. Souls were waiting. And Hermes was here, with you, hiding from his sacred duty behind a waterfall. The reality of it settled in your stomach like a cold stone.

Through the water, you saw a flash of brilliant gold as Apollo stepped into the meadow. Even distorted, his radiance was undeniable. He surveyed the clearing, his head tilted. "A peaceful place. Quaint. Not your usual style, brother. I expected to find you haggling in a mortal market or dicing with satyrs."

He took a few steps, his gaze sweeping the area. For a terrifying second, his eyes seemed to linger on the waterfall. You squeezed your eyes shut, certain you were discovered. Hermes's arm tightened around you, a silent promise of protection.

Then, with a sigh of divine boredom, Apollo turned away. "Very well. Have your fun. But the wrath of Zeus is not so easily placated as I. I shall tell him I could not find you."

The lyre music began again, slowly fading as he departed. For a long time, neither of you moved. You just stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, listening to the roar of the water and the fading echo of divine power.

Finally, Hermes let out a shaky breath and sagged against you. "That was... too close."

He pulled back, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. His eyes were dark with the aftermath of fear and a raw, fierce emotion that stole your breath.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice thick with concern.

You could only nod, your throat tight.

"I'm sorry," he said, his forehead resting against yours. "I never wanted to bring this danger to you. For them, a mortal..." He trailed off, but you understood. To the eternal, unchanging gods, your fleeting, fragile life was a curiosity, a plaything. They wouldn't understand why Hermes would risk so much for it.

"You're worth it," he whispered, as if reading your thoughts. "Risking Apollo's search, Zeus's anger... all of it. This time with you is the only thing that feels real anymore. The only thing that's truly mine."

The setting sun cast long shadows across the meadow, painting the water in front of you in hues of orange and deep purple. The danger had passed, but it had left something new in its wake: a profound understanding of what you meant to each other. This wasn't just a dalliance, a god's whim. It was a rebellion.

"You have to go," you said softly, your hand covering his on your cheek. "The king. The souls."

He closed his eyes, a flicker of his burden returning. "I know."

He didn't leave immediately. He leaned in and kissed you, a kiss that was nothing like his earlier, playful greeting. It was deep and desperate and full of the day's stolen joy and terror. It tasted of sun-warmed nectarines and cool, ancient stone. It was a promise and a goodbye, all at once.

When he pulled away, he reached down and plucked a single, impossibly small feather from the wing on his ankle. It shimmered with an iridescent light, catching the last rays of the sun.

"So you know I'll come back," he said, pressing it into your palm. "Always."

And then, with another whisper of displaced air, he was gone.

You were alone again in your quiet kingdom, the roar of the waterfall a constant companion. You stood there for a long time, the cool, magical feather a tangible weight in your hand. The meadow was silent, save for the crickets beginning their evening song. It was peaceful once more, but it was a different kind of peace now—one filled with the lingering warmth of his presence, the echo of his heart against yours, and the aching, hopeful certainty of his return.

#epic the musical #dxrlingluv #epic x reader #epic fanfic #fluff #epic hermes #hermes x reader #i love hermes marry me #zieru hermes #epic the musical hermes #hermes x oc #hermes #epic

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kxsagi · 5 days ago

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IT'S SO TRUE THAT RIN IS THE CHASE ATLANTIC CODE. ESPECIALLY MEDDLE ABOUT..

I have a headcannos, Rin is riding motorcycle (ofc legal age) at full speed late at night when the road is empty and playing chase atlantic in his helmet on his headphones (especially meddle about) 🤭🫦

“𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭”

a/n: i just had to write this, i couldn't hold back 😭 but tbf, i had a similar idea in my drafts

RIN WITH CHASE ATLANTIC THO >>> orgasmic combo

suggestive content inside!

the sky is inked black, the kind of night where the stars stay hidden like secrets no one's brave enough to say out loud. the city hums in its quietest hour, long past midnight, when everything that’s honest and raw starts crawling out of its hiding place. biker boy! rin’s motorcycle engine purrs beneath him like a beast leashed by nothing but his grip and mood, tires slicing through the cold air as if he’s racing something only he can see. his helmet presses close around his ears, music thrumming in sync with the tempo of his pulse.

“you got me down on my knees, it’s getting harder to breathe out,” chase atlantic murmurs into his skull.

and he laughs under his breath, low and breathy, the kind of laugh that says he’s spiraling and enjoying it. because yeah, he does want to meddle about. and he does want to come see you tonight.

he's been restless for hours, prowling around his apartment like a caged animal. the silence was too loud. the sheets didn’t feel right. and all he could think about was the soft weight of your body in his arms the last time you fell asleep on his couch, legs tangled in his, your voice whispering sleepy things into the fabric of his hoodie.

so here he is. racing through the city just to get to you. you, who’s probably asleep right now. you, who always joke that you’ll never date a guy with a death wish and then kiss him right after he does something stupid, like speeding through a red light or popping a wheelie on a backroad. you, who make his chest ache in a way he never admits out loud, not even to himself.

his black bike leans dangerously close to the pavement as he takes a curve fast, wind biting against the exposed part of his neck, and he tightens his grip on the handles like they’re the only thing tethering him to this world.

“no, i wanna see you undress now, i wanna hear you confess now.”

he hums along this time. voice muffled but there.

maybe you do want him. maybe you don’t. maybe he’s always stuck somewhere in between with you.

but it doesn’t matter. he’s already pulling up to your place. brakes hissing. engine groaning to a stop like it's pissed he made it here in one piece. he kicks the stand out, yanks his helmet off – hair a mess, cheeks flushed, that look in his eyes like he just survived something. like he is something you’re gonna have to survive.

he slips past the gate. climbs up to your window like he’s done it a hundred times. knocks twice in the specific pattern you made him memorize. doesn’t stop playing the song in his headphones even though the night is silent now.

your light flickers on. you appear in your window with your eyes squinted and hair a sleepy mess and that expression on your face that says “rin, are you insane–” but before you even get a full sentence out, he smirks and says, “come for a ride.”

“... it’s like 2 AM?”

“yeah. that’s the point.”

you stare at him. he stares right back. the music pulses quietly in his headphones.

“baby, show me what you’re doing, come and turn around.”

you sigh. but you’re already pulling on a hoodie. already reaching for your shoes. because you always do.

ten minutes later, you’re gripping his waist on the back of the bike, arms locked tight around his torso, your cheek pressed to the broad line of his back. and biker boy! rin’s flying again, faster than he should be, music blasting, hair whipping, the city nothing but streaks of light and freedom.

he doesn’t look back, but he feels you hold on tighter when he pushes the throttle again. he hears your laughter get swallowed by the wind. he thinks about the way your hand slid under his shirt when you thought he was asleep last weekend, like you were memorizing the shape of his spine.

biker boy! rin’s not a boy who talks too much. not a boy who believes in fairytales or happily ever afters. but as the chorus repeats and you bury your face into his shoulder, he swears: he’ll meddle about with you forever if you let him.

and this? this is how he says i love you. with engine smoke, midnight air, and a song bleeding into his bones.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #back to my house so we can meddle about

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parker-artio · 5 months ago

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So I’ve said it a couple times, but I come from a huge family, which is mostly foster family. But I’m from a small town and live in a five bedroom house (one for my mom, one for my brothers, one for my younger sisters, one for my older sister since she’s 18 and can’t share a room w/ foster kids, then mine.)

But rooms aren’t anyone’s hiding spots- Yk what I mean, when you need to destress and get away from everyone but your room is too obvious- so, it got me thinking.

The Wayne manor is massive, all of the bat kids definitely all have that spot. The hiding spot.

So here’s what I think all of them are!

Dick: He had three. The one he lets everyone know about, the one he only lets his siblings know about, and his secret one. He trusts them to only come annoy him in the first one, because he only ever uses it when he crashes out (it’s his best past-time). This one I think would be an ‘on the nose�� place, like his bedroom closet, in the ceilings, on a random chandelier, on the roof, somewhere where they would think to look (they being Bruce and the other adults.) The second is more likely a not so obvious place, but everyone would consider thinking about it. Like, the guest room next to his room- but not just the room, like the closet, or under the bed in there, maybe the shed in the backyard. But his place- the place he tells no one about, that’s the attic. He’ll go up there and hide under and behind a fortress of boxes and pillows and blankets he’s slowly added to since he was 9. No one questions when he goes into the laundry room with a full tote of blankets and pillows or carry’s around cleaning supplies upstairs.

Cass: She hides in the pool house. No one knows. No one finds out.

Jason: When Dick told him about his hiding spot(s) he immediately scoured the library for a hidden spot, his logic was: it’s an old house, there’s gotta be a hidden room somewhere, right? And there was. So when he disappears into the library for three hours and someone goes in after him and doesn’t find him anywhere, they assume he’s escaped through the library in the window.

Tim: He grew up in an old house, he knows all of the hiding spots. Which is how he knew there was a hidden door under the left stairs that led to a panic room, which’s he’s officially transformed into a safe haven, and no one but him can get into or out of. He’s gotta pad lock with a code he can’t even remember. Good thing for patterns.

Duke: When he moved into his room (pretend Bruce is fostering him and he doesn’t live w/ his cousin okay?) He always heard a weird sound coming from his closet. At first he thought it was haunted and refused to put anything in there, but one day when it actually happened during the day and not at night he decided to inspect it, and found a small vent, just big enough for him to crawl through. He obviously went into it, he found himself in a small room where all of the vents connected, just above the batcave- which is where the noise came from. He added a few battery powered fairy string lights, and a small beanbag with a blanket and chair.

Damian: He insists he doesn’t need one despite everyone saying it would be beneficial. But if anyone claims when he goes missing for hours when the barn lights are on, he denies it all. But as he gets older, he doesn’t keep hiding the fact that the barns his hidden space- and a room where he hides the animals from Bruce when he first smuggles them into the house. But no one knows where that is.

BONUS:

Barbara: She used to have a hiding spot in one of the many hidden cliffs in the batcave where she has a very nice fluffy pillow and her baby blanket with a fluffy blanket to accompany it. Her backup-laptop a very strong charger, and a couple books for her college classes. But she can’t get up there, so it’s kinda a hidden relic stuck in time. Now she hides in an unused room back by the back door with enough space for her to move around in her wheelchair, but no one knows where it is.

Steph: She went into the batcave once and saw a door that was labeled ‘Batman only’ so obviously she went inside. The room was empty beside a small door and the shelves of backup generators. So obviously she went into the small door and found herself in a small cozy dark room. She’s managed to decorate it like her room, and even put a lock that can only be opened by her phone. Bruce definitely noticed the room was tampered with when he went to go get a generator, but he didn’t ask about it. He knows everyone has a hiding spot.

Harper: She doesn’t have a place, but she will go into the upstairs bathroom next to the upstairs living room and lock the door and sit in the tub. It’s very therapeutic.

Luke: He’s not at the manor or batcave enough to have a hiding spot, but at his mom and dads he’s got a small section of the basement where he terraformed into a small ‘man cave’ but in actuality he just sits in there on the gaming chair he took from his sister and listens to music or relaxes.

That’s everyone I can think of right now, I might add other characters in a pt. 2? Like maybe Maps, Tiffany, Kate, ect.

#batfamily #bruce wayne #richard grayson #cassandra cain #jason todd #tim drake #duke thomas #damian wayne #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #batfamily headcanons #alfred pennyworth #they’re like bats #pun intended

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insert-witty-user-name-here · 2 years ago

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Random Plot Points

A little about me as a writer, I love daydreaming about adventure stories. I usually know the general set up and larger plot points but oftentimes struggle with the how, how do characters get from point A to point B.

So, I made a list of random challenges for my characters that I look at when I'm stuck.

Sharing in case helpful to others! (intended for adventure, sci-fi, fantasy stories)

characters are delayed/blocked/experience a natural disaster (storm, fire, flood, avalanche, earthquake, epidemic, etc) (BONUS and forced to take a detour from the original path)

character(s) is trapped (quick sand, fall through ice, in room filling with poison, on sinking ship, in a trash compactor on the Death Star, etc) (BONUS- fall into hidden room and discover something)

characters go to a festival/ball/party/political summit (where inevitably it all goes wrong)

character(s) overhears a secret (at bar, at party, from a whispered conversation below them in a stairway, etc)

characters are attacked by an animal or mysterious force

characters(s) caught in a mob/riot

character wins/loses something in a bet

character is brainwashed or possessed

character is stranded/lost

character is poisoned

character succumbs to injury or illness

characters are chased/ attacked by antagonists

character is captured or arrested (and needs to be rescued)

character is kidnapped and kidnappers make a demand for their release (financial ransom, exchange of information, prisoner exchange, etc)

character(s) go undercover to retrieve information

characters decide to steal something they need for their quest (weapon, magical object, money, information, etc). (BONUS- time for a well-planned heist!)

characters need to protect/ retrieve/ destroy something

characters uncover a network of spies (up to you if they're unexpected allies or antagonists)

characters discover hidden passageway, room, ruins etc that leads to an important clue

characters forced to hide from someone/something

characters need to escape

characters lured into trap set by villain (BONUS if the villain doesn't even care who wins but only goaded them to learn how a magical object works, the extent of heroes powers, emergency response system of a government, etc)

characters set trap for villain (BONUS- use someone or something important as bait) (if in Act 2, they fail)

characters reveal critical information to villain in disguise

a character is mistaken for someone else (and then is wrongfully arrested, receives information not intended for them, etc)

characters receive help (hitch a ride, get help hiding from captors, get help escaping somewhere, etc) from an unlikely new ally

characters forced to team up with an unlikely ally/ morally grey character, etc

characters learn something from simple library research (an oldie but a goodie)

characters just literally just stumble upon or witness something important (secret weapon, secret society etc)

characters uncover a secret map/ coded message on the back of an old unassuming document (time for a classic treasure hunt!)

someone escapes from prison (an old villain or an old ally) that changes the quest

someone is being blackmailed (or otherwise forced to act against the protagonists)

someone is discredited (rumor, disinformation campaign etc)

something stolen from your characters

something (document, magical object, money) turns out to be fake

OR, something unassuming turns out to have special powers or meaning

something is hacked (defense system, infrastructure, bank, private records, etc)

something critical is attacked (important bridge, port, bank/ financial system, safehouse, capitol building, character's familial home, etc.)

a computer virus is unleashed

a biological weapon is unleashed

a piece of information the characters believed was true, is false

an ancient myth turns out to be true

a secret is made public

A law is changed or a vote on a critical piece of legislation loses/wins

a political opponent wins an election/ a political ally loses an election

character(s) help a passerby (from raiders, local tyrant, beast, mystical force, etc)

characters "follow the money" and realize someone who was thought to be their ally is actually working for... (crime syndicate, villain, local tyrant etc)

#writeblr #writing tips #outlining #writing resources #writing prompts #writing #prompt list #fantasy writing #my stuff

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chrisrashizushi · 2 months ago

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Deliver Us From Temptation (But Not Tonight)

Pairing (s): Michael Jackson (1989!Virgin Jehovah’s Witness Version) x 304!Reader/ OC

Words: I don’t know twin 😭

Warning (s): NOT EDITED! Power Imbalance (slightly), Mentions of sex work, Smut, Virgin!Michael, Breeding Kink, Praise Kink, Creampie, Possessive Behavior (later chapters), Toxic Love (later chapters), Obsession (later chapters), Overstimulation, Crying During Sex (Michael), Emotional Manipulation (light, loving kind), Religious Guilt, Domestic Delusions, Fluff & Filth, Dickmatized Reader, Unhinged Post-Virgin Michael, Cringe Male Fantasy Realized, Baby Fever.

Summary: What starts as a regular night on the stroll turns into a once-in-a-lifetime encounter with Michael Jackson himself—but not the polished icon you’d expect. Not, this is 31-year-old Jehovah’s Witness virgin, cruising the streets in a black Rolls Royce on a one-man mission to lose his innocence after one too many conversations with Eddie Murphy.

You?

A 304 just trying to get your money and dip.

🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷

The moon hung low over Los Angeles like a guilty secret. It bled silver across the cracked pavement, washing the city in a kind of quiet shame, as if the sky itself knew what was about to happen and couldn’t bring itself to stop it.

Chrissie’s boots hit the sidewalk like a war drum.

Nine inches of pink patent leather stomped a rhythm into the night, the heels clicking in sharp, sensual staccato with every step she took. She moved with a softness that begged for attention—hips swaying like a metronome tuned to a melody only she could hear. A cropped snow-white fur jacket clung to her arms, hanging open just enough to tease the glittering bra underneath—pink, rhinestoned, and holding her breasts like they were born to be worshipped.

Her thong peeked out from a low-slung miniskirt the color of bubblegum and sin. It wasn’t an outfit; it was a sermon in seduction. And her lip gloss shimmered with the kind of cherry shine that made men forget their morals.

She didn’t walk. She glided. Like a fantasy written in cursive.

Chrissie wasn’t thinking about much—just her room at the motel, the ache in her ankles, and how she needed to find a better hustle before the year flipped over. She was halfway through chewing a piece of grape gum when she felt it.

A gaze. Thick. Heavy. Slow.

She stopped.

Somewhere beside her, an engine purred.

The car crept like a panther. Black, glossy, with windows so tinted they reflected her back at herself. A Rolls Royce. Old money. Silent money. The kind of car that could belong to a drug lord, a politician, or somebody famous enough to be dangerous.

The passenger window hissed down like a whispered secret.

And there he was.

Hidden in the shadows, hoodie drawn low, curls spilling down his forehead like ink. But even under the poor motel lighting, his face glowed. Ethereal. Familiar in a way that made her throat close.

“Um… excuse me, miss,” he said, voice trembling like a hymn whispered in a confessional booth. “Do you… need a ride?”

Her lips parted. And then curved into a smirk slow and lethal.

“That depends, baby. You lookin’ to get saved or get lucky?”

He flinched. Visibly. As if her words had slapped his spirit.

Chrissie leaned closer. Her hand pressed against the glass, long almond nails glinting like daggers. The scent of vanilla body spray, cherry gloss, and heat curled inside the car like smoke.

The man coughed into his fist.

“I… I can take you somewhere safe. I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” she said, voice sugared. “I know a place. Room 209. Pink door. You can park in the back, sugar.”

🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤

Michael

He should have kept driving.

He should have clutched his steering wheel tighter, turned the jazz up louder, prayed harder. But the moment he saw her—that girl, walking like lust had a zip code—Michael’s grip on righteousness began to slip.

She looked like something he’d once seen in a dream and spent the rest of his life pretending he hadn’t. A Bratz doll with goddess thighs. Eyes like melted brown sugar. A waist that curved like temptation in physical form.

He’d been fasting. Praying. He was trying to stay pure.

But Eddie said it.

“Mike, you need to get laid. All that pressure? You’re gonna snap one day.”

Michael didn’t mean to turn down that street. Didn’t mean to roll down his window.

But he did.

And now she was in his car, legs crossed like a temptation he couldn’t unsee, licking her thumb and smoothing out her baby hairs like it was a damn ritual. He could barely breathe.

“New to this?” she asked, voice dipped in flirt.

“Y-yeah,” he mumbled. “First time, actually.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” she said, grinning like the devil’s favorite daughter.

❤️😘🤣💕

The Motel

She led him up the stairs like she was guiding him to slaughter. Her perfume lingered in the air like an afterthought he couldn’t stop inhaling. His hoodie clung to him, soaked with sweat, socks sticking in his loafers. He didn’t know what he was doing. He just knew he had to follow her.

Room 209 creaked open.

The light flickered. The sheets were ugly. The air was stale. But Chrissie’s presence made it feel like a palace.

She tossed her purse on the bed, turned around, and slid the jacket off her shoulders like she was born for slow-motion. Her bra sparkled in the lamplight. Her piercings caught the glow like jewelry crafted by God Himself.

And then she looked at him.

Really looked at him.

Her brows pinched.

Her eyes widened.

And suddenly, her mouth dropped open in cartoon disbelief.

“WAIT A MINUTE—”

She took a step closer.

“OH MY GOD—NO, NO, THIS CAN’T BE—”

Michael froze.

“YOU’RE MICHAEL FUCKING JACKSON!!!”

He winced like the truth was a gunshot.

“I-I didn’t mean to—it’s not what it looks like—please don’t scream—”

“You’re THEE Michael Jackson. Thriller. Smooth Criminal. You invented the moonwalk and now you walkin’ up into my room?!”

Her voice pitched into a laugh—half shocked, half delighted. She plopped down on the bed and crossed her legs.

She looked him up and down like a client, a mystery, and a check she was about to cash.

“So…” she said, tongue flicking over her front teeth. “How much we talkin’? ’Cause tonight? You about to get the deluxe experience.”

Michael stared at her.

At her eyes.

At her smile.

At her body.

At the edge of sin.

And all he could say was:

“I… I think I love you.”

❤️😘💕 😩

The air in the room was thick now.

Heavy with something that clung to the walls, something almost physical. Lust? Fear? Divine punishment? Maybe all three. The cheap motel A/C buzzed somewhere behind them, but neither of them moved.

Michael sat on the edge of the bed like he was waiting to be judged.

Back straight, hands in his lap, fingers laced tight like he was in prayer. His hoodie was off now, revealing a clingy white undershirt that stretched over his narrow shoulders. He was breathing shallow, like the oxygen in the room didn’t belong to him.

Chrissie lay across the bed behind him, one arm draped lazily over her stomach, the other twirling a strand of hair as she watched him squirm.

“Soooo… is this what we’re doing?” she asked, voice sweet but mocking, like a cherry-laced tease. “We just gon’ sit here all night? You wanna play Uno or somethin’?”

Michael flinched, blinking fast, like he was trying to wake up from a dream he wasn’t ready to leave.

“N-no! I mean… I didn’t know how to—how it usually starts. I, um. I’ve never…” he trailed off, swallowing hard.

Chrissie smirked.

She already knew.

It was written all over him.

The nervous ticks. The too-careful eye contact. The way he kept adjusting his pants like his dick was trying to leap into destiny without him.

She pushed herself up onto her knees and slid behind him, straddling her thighs on either side of his body without even touching. Yet.

“You’re tense, baby,” she cooed, lowering her voice to a honey-thick whisper.

Her hands came to rest on his shoulders. Gently. She kneaded his tight muscles through the thin cotton shirt, thumbs pressing just hard enough to make him gasp.

Michael jolted.

“Oh—um—th-that feels… good.”

“Mmm, I know it does. You’re all stiff. Poor thing… haven’t even been touched like this, huh?”

She leaned in closer, lips grazing the shell of his ear, warm breath curling against his skin. Her nose brushed his curls, and she inhaled deeply.

“You smell like lavender and stress.”

He whimpered. Whimpered. Like a kicked puppy in a pew.

Chrissie kissed the curve of his neck—once, then again, softer, slower, lips lingering—and Michael’s knees actually buckled. He reached for the sheets to steady himself. But that only made things worse.

Because now he could feel her body behind him. Warm. Pressed close. Her thighs against his back. Her breath against his skin.

“I—I shouldn’t—” he began, voice paper-thin.

“Then leave,” she challenged, voice flat and sharp.

Silence.

He stood up like he might actually do it.

Chrissie just watched.

And then—

She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him backwards.

He gasped as he fell, landing flat on his back against the pillows, curls fanning out like a halo, eyes wide and helpless. She climbed on top of him with feline grace, not rushed, not reckless—just in control. Like a lioness lowering her weight onto fresh prey.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere,” she murmured, hands sliding down his trembling body.

She reached for the waistband of his black pants, slow and teasing, her nails dragging against his skin.

Michael trembled beneath her. His fists clenched the sheets, and he turned his head like he couldn’t bear to watch.

But she could.

And baby—what she saw had her jaw dropping.

This man’s dick was insane.

Thick. Heavy. A subtle hook to the left, pointing like it had a destination in mind. Already leaking. Like it was desperate. Like it had never been inside anything before, and it knew what it was missing.

She stared at it like it owed her rent money.

“…Oh,” she said finally. “So you really never had no pussy before.”

Michael’s face flushed red, ears burning.

“I haven’t… um. N-no. Never. I was waiting… I am waiting. For marriage, I mean. But…” He gulped. “I think if we get married after this it’s okay, right?”

Chrissie blinked.

Then snorted. Loud.

“Boy, what?”

Michael sat up slightly, big brown eyes hopeful, breath hitching like a skipped record.

“If you’re my wife, then it’s not a sin. I think. I mean—I don’t know, I could talk to my pastor but I feel like—”

“Oh my god,” she groaned, dropping her head onto his chest. “This ain’t the first time a client caught feelings, but you? You really different.”

“I—I’m not like the others,” he whispered, one hand trembling as he brushed her arm. “I love you.”

Chrissie just sighed, eyes rolling to the ceiling like:

“Lord, why do you give the biggest dick to the dumbest men?”

Chrissie straddled him loosely now, eyes heavy, body still, watching him with a kind of measured patience that only came from experience. She had already lubed him up—carefully, tenderly, with slow circular motions that made Michael’s stomach clench and his toes curl inside his socks. She could feel how he pulsed under her touch. How he trembled when her fingers brushed the tip. She had even shown him where to go—guided his cock with her soft hand, fingers slick and glistening, parting her folds with her other hand like she was opening a temple.

“Right here, baby,” she whispered, voice breathy. “That’s the spot. You feel that? That’s all you.”

Michael nodded, jaw tight, lashes fluttering. He gripped her thighs like he was praying for strength.

He was sweating now. Tears prickled in his eyes and he hadn’t even entered her yet.

“Chrissie…” His voice cracked. “I-I’m scared.”

“You’ll be fine,” she cooed, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “Just go slow, baby. You ain’t gotta go too deep…”

She didn’t mean it.

She should have meant it.

But she didn’t know what she was dealing with.

Michael adjusted his hips, the head of his dick pressing right against her entrance. Chrissie tensed. It was warm. Hot. Bulging. Her breath hitched and her eyes darted up to his face—but he was already looking down at her like a boy seeing color for the first time.

He pushed forward. Just the head.

Chrissie’s entire body jolted.

“AH—hold on—hold on baby—OH MY GOD—” she groaned, her voice pitchy, raw. “Th-that’s just the head?!”

Her nails dug into his arms. Her legs kicked once, instinctively trying to shut closed, but Michael caught them—held them down, firm and wide, muscles flexed like he’d been possessed by something holy and carnal at the same time.

“Don’t close ‘em,” he whispered hoarsely. “I—I wanna see you take it.”

Chrissie whimpered.

Her toes curled. Her back arched.

Eyes twitching closed. Lips trembling.

That shit BURNED. It stretched. It split. It filled. And yet… he still hadn’t moved.

Michael hovered above her, panting, tears in his lashes, his jaw clenched tight as he froze, refusing to thrust any further.

“You okay?” he asked, voice breaking. “D-does it hurt?”

“YES,” she hissed, trying to breathe through it. “But don’t stop. Just—don’t move yet.”

He didn’t. He stayed right there. Just the head inside. Throbbing. Huge. His whole body trembling like a candle in wind.

“Oh, Jehovah…” he sobbed, voice warbling. “It feels so—so good. Is that a sin too? Feeling good like this? It feels warm and—and wet and… oh, God forgive me—”

Chrissie blinked up at him through tears of her own, half-laughing, half-groaning.

“Baby… if that’s just the tip… I don’t know if I’m makin’ it through the rest.”

Michael looked down at her like she was the second coming. His eyes were glassy, mouth parted, flushed cheeks glowing under the motel lamplight. And then something shifted in him.

His hips twitched. The faintest forward thrust.

“You sure?” he whispered.

She blinked up at him. “Do it.”

Then he moved.

Not rough—but deep. Slow. Deliberate. Like he was pouring years of starvation into her all at once. Like his body remembered something his mind had no words for. Like he was being guided by some ancient instinct to claim.

Chrissie screamed.

Her thighs shook, and her voice went raw.

“FUCK—MICHAEL, YOU’RE—TOO MUCH!”

But he didn’t stop.

He grunted—low, deep, from the gut—“I don’t care.”

Her legs trembled as he buried himself inch by inch, watching her crumble beneath him. His cock throbbed inside her like it had never known peace before. His tears rolled down freely now, but his body kept going. Sliding deeper. Holding her down.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry I love you—I’m sorry I love you so much—I know this is wrong—but you feel so… so right—”

Chrissie could barely breathe. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t think.

All she knew was that he was huge. Hot. Pulsing. And deep.

And that somewhere between his head and his soul, Michael Jackson had just lost his virginity… and his whole damn mind. Michael’s grip on her thighs was unrelenting. Fingers digging deep, spreading her wide open like he was searching for meaning between her legs. His breath came in fast little gasps, sweat slicking his curls to his temples. And he was trembling—shaking, really—like her pussy had unlocked some forgotten code in his spine and his whole body was trying to reboot.

“S-slow, Michael—slow!” Chrissie groaned, arching beneath him. “You too big to be doing all that—just give me a sec to breathe—”

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t stop.

It wasn’t even about control anymore.

It was instinct.

Michael’s body had taken over, and he was thrusting in short, messy, needy strokes—deeper and deeper like his soul was trying to crawl inside her and stay there. His hips jerked forward again, and he let out the softest little cry—“O-ohhh, Chrissie…”

His voice was high and breathless, a little whimper mixed with prayer.

She tried to push at his chest, tried to say something like “Wait, baby, you not gon’ last if you keep—” but it was too late.

Michael’s entire body seized.

His eyes rolled up. Lips parted. He slammed his hips forward one last time and froze, buried to the base inside her. Chrissie’s jaw dropped open, legs twitching as her pussy stretched around him like it was trying to learn him by heart.

And then—

“Hnnnng—!”

He let out the weakest, softest, most heavenly busted-nut whimper ever released on God’s green Earth and CAME. HARD.

Hot, thick ropes of cum spilled inside her, deep, fast, messy.

His hips jerked again—once, twice—like his body didn’t know whether to flee or burrow. He moaned into her neck, tears rolling down his cheeks as his cock throbbed with every pulse.

“Oh… oh God… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to—I couldn’t stop—Chrissie I love you—ohhh it feels too good…”

She blinked up at the ceiling, stunned.

“You just… came in me?”

Michael didn’t even hear her. He was trembling, forehead pressed to her shoulder, breathing like he just ran through Armageddon barefoot.

“I’m yours now,” he mumbled, already sounding sleepy.

“Michael—baby—this ain’t how this supposed to go. You weren’t even in for two minutes!”

But he wasn’t listening.

Because this man had just given up his virginity, broken his vows, nutted deep in a baddie’s tight little coochie and fallen in love all in one stroke.

He nuzzled against her chest like a newborn, breathing in her perfume like it was oxygen.

“You smell like heaven. I wanna wake up here. We should get a dog. We should get married tomorrow.”

Chrissie just stared at the ceiling, lips parted.

“Ain’t no way,” she whispered. “You already asleep?”

And he was.

Michael Jackson, King of Pop, just nutted in a motel room, confessed his love, and passed out like a baby, dick still twitching inside her.

🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤

To be continued…

#michael jackson #michael jackson fanfic #michael jackson x reader #michael jackson fluff #michael jackson smut #michael joseph jackson #you’re a hoe #but that’s okay

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thepencilnerd · 8 months ago

Text

Shadowboxing

summary: Chishiya's world is carefully constructed—until the night you see the stellar medical student in an underground fighting ring. The lines blur between the mask he wears and the man he really is, and you find yourself drawn into a reality that’s far more raw and dangerous than you ever imagined. word count (ch. 1): 1.8k genre: university!AU, OoC!Chishiya (not just his dark hair) x fem!grad student reader warnings: depictions of violence but nothing too graphic, fluff, angst, comfort, weighted discussions about mental health because it matters a/n: I watched Mirai e no 10 Count last night and am whipped for boxer Chishiya; complete fic here <3 full moodboards here ^-^

You were dozing off at your desk, the soft glow of your laptop casting a dim light over your cluttered dorm room. Piles of papers and books were scattered everywhere—typical imagery of a grad student. The remnants of snack wrappers and multiple mugs were piling up at the corner of your desk, and your eyes burned from staring at the screen for hours. You didn't even realize you had nodded off until a loud banging rattled your door. Startling awake, you heard the voice of Kuina on the other side, her shouts muffled but insistent. "Come on, open up! You can't spend all night cooped up in here!" she yelled. You groaned, rubbing your eyes as you stood up. "I'm busy," you called back, though the exhaustion in your voice made it clear how true that was.

"Busy doing what? Staring at your laptop until your brain turns to mush? You need a break," they argued. You sighed, opening the door to find her grinning at you, eyes wide with excitement. "Please, I promise you'll thank me later. You need this."

"What even is this?" you asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

"An exciting, thrilling night event! Come on, trust me! It'll be fun," she insisted, practically bouncing on their feet.

You gave her a skeptical look. "This better not be like the time you dragged me to that 'artsy' film screening that turned out to be four hours of experimental interpretive dance."

She laughed, shaking her head. "I swear, it's nothing like that. Just think of it as... an adventure. Something different for once."

You sighed, but the look on her face—full of energy and determination—made it hard to refuse, her unwavering insistence even more so. "Fine, fine. But if this turns out to be some weird cult meeting or something, I'm out."

"Deal!" she grinned, grabbing your hand and practically dragging you out of your dorm.

Against your better judgment, curiosity got the best of you, at least until you were led down a narrow staircase, the thudding bass echoing through the walls, and into a dark coliseum-esque pit: an underground boxing ring. The stench of sweat and adrenaline filled the room, a large crowd gathered around the makeshift ring, chanting and cheering.

The place was alive, buzzing with a sort of desperation you'd never witnessed before. The announcer had mentioned the winner's prize—a sum large enough to make a difference in someone's life, which only seemed to add to the intensity of the match. Kuina leaned in close, her voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. "Okay, so here are the rules. The fighters are masked to keep their identities secret, and they're all wearing color-coded gear to make it easy to tell them apart," she explained, gesturing to the ring. "They fight until one of them is either knocked out or can't continue. The winner gets a big cash prize—enough to pay off debts or even start over somewhere else." You nodded, your eyes fixed on the fighters. The fighters were masked, their identities hidden behind color-coded attire and dark headgear, as they traded punches in the middle of the ring. It was chaos—raw, unbridled violence as each combatant swung for victory, fighting not only for pride but also for the significant prize money at stake. You could feel the desperation in the air, as if each punch thrown was driven by the promise of escape from something dire.

Your eyes were drawn to the fighter in blue. He moved differently from the rest—sharp, calculated, almost detached. His footwork was precise, each step deliberate, as if he was constantly analyzing his opponent's weaknesses. He circled his opponent, his body relaxed yet ready to strike at any moment, while the other fighter grew increasingly frantic, throwing punches that barely grazed the air. The fighter in blue waited, his eyes never leaving his target, calculating each movement. When he finally struck, it was with ruthless precision—a quick combination of blows that left his opponent stumbling. He delivered a final, powerful uppercut that ended the match, his opponent collapsing to the ground. The crowd erupted in cheers, but he remained unfazed, his expression unreadable behind the mask, as if the victory meant nothing more than another task completed.

You shivered, more at the calm, almost indifferent way he stood victorious than at the raw physicality of it all. His physique was lean but muscular, built for speed and precision rather than brute strength. Sweat dripped from his brow, trailing down his neck, mixing with a thin trail of his own blood—he must have taken a hit. A faint smear of blood could also be seen at the edge of his gloves, likely from his opponent.

Kuina was hyped after the fight. On the walk back to campus, she couldn't stop talking about how it was the perfect night for you to come, especially since the blue fighter was renowned in the underground scene. "He's the best, you know," she said, practically glowing with excitement. "No one can beat him. People come just to watch him fight. I can't believe you got to see him in action on your first time there!" You nodded absentmindedly, her words echoing in your mind. The best. There was something about him that seemed almost familiar, but you shook the thought away, dismissing it as nothing more than your imagination.

The next day, you found yourself at the library, surrounded by books that were supposed to be helping with your dissertation. The quiet was a stark contrast to the chaos of the night before. As you scanned the shelves, you couldn't help but think how all the open access publications in the world couldn't save you from having to deal with what a traditional manuscript was—sifting through an actual physical book that felt almost as archaic as the medieval ages. You searched for a particular reference, balancing a stack in your arms as you leaned up to reach a higher shelf.

And that's when it happened—a shoulder knocked past you, sending your grip slipping and your books tumbling to the floor. You cursed under your breath and knelt down, trying to gather them up, feeling a sense of dread at how loud the clatter had been in the silence of the library.

Suddenly, a pair of hands reached down, helping you pick up the scattered books. You looked up, startled. A figure with his hood pulled up, his face partially obscured, was kneeling across from you, silently helping you collect your fallen stack. His movements were efficient, almost practiced, as if he was used to picking up after others, and there was something calm yet purposeful about the way he handled each book, stacking them neatly before handing them back to you.

You blinked, recognition tugging at your mind. He was familiar—the top student in the medical school, Chishiya Shuntaro. He had a reputation that was nearly impossible to miss, even in your circles as a doctoral student. Exceptionally intelligent, surprisingly aloof, and no doubt untouchable, he was the one everyone wanted to be close to but no one could approach. There were rumors, of course—that he was some kind of cold-hearted player, or a bored genius looking to kill time in his twenties. Stories about him lurked everywhere, each one more unbelievable than the last.

As he handed you the last of your books, his hood shifted, and you caught sight of a gash across his eyebrow. It was well-padded and hidden under gauze, but the skin around was raw and swollen, clearly fresh. The sight made you pause, your eyes narrowing as you pieced together the oddity of it—the hood, the attempt to hide, the injury. Your mind flashed back to the underground ring—the crowd's roars, the masked fighters, the way he moved, the precision of his strikes, and now this injury—it all started to line up. It couldn't be...

Chishiya met your gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as if daring you to ask. There was a hint of challenge there, almost as if he was amused by the thought of you confronting him. He seemed entirely unbothered, as if the whole situation was just another game to him—a game where he held all the cards, waiting to see if you were bold enough to make the first move. The moment seemed to stretch, your curiosity battling with the tension hanging between you. But you stayed silent, and so did he. He simply handed you your books, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment, before he pulled the hood back over his head and stood up.

Without a word, he turned and walked away, his mind already shifting back to the secrecy he guarded so carefully. He knew he couldn't afford to let anyone get too close, not with the double life he was leading. But there was something about the look in your eyes—curiosity mixed with hesitation—that lingered with him. He shook the thought away, refocusing as he moved through the library, leaving you there with your heart pounding for reasons you couldn't quite explain.

That evening, you were back in your dorm, the events of the day replaying in your mind as you sat at your desk. The dim light of your lamp illuminated your scattered notes, and you tried to focus on your proposal, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Chishiya—the way his eyes seemed to challenge you, the fleeting brush of his fingers, and that mysterious injury. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something much deeper beneath his calm exterior.

Meanwhile, back in his dorm, Chishiya leaned against his desk, his eyes staring blankly at the wall. He replayed your expression in his mind—the way your eyes had widened in recognition, the hesitation that lingered there. He remembered seeing you in the crowd that night, the way your gaze had locked onto him after his victory. Even then, something about the way you looked at him had stood out, different from the others. And today, in the library, the way you caught sight of his injury—he knew you were connecting the dots. It was unexpected, the way you seemed to see past the mask he wore. Most people never got that far, dismissing him as either a prodigy or an enigma without much thought. But you had looked closer, and something about that made it difficult for him to brush off the encounter.

Chishiya exhaled sharply, pushing himself away from the desk. He couldn't afford to let his focus slip, not when there was so much at stake—his freedom, his independence, the fragile balance of the double life he had built. Any slip could mean exposure, and exposure would mean losing everything he had fought so hard to keep hidden. But still, the memory of your gaze kept creeping back, making him wonder if maybe, just maybe, someone like you could be a problem—or something else entirely.

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knoepfl · 6 months ago

Text

Against the Program

16/24

Characters:

• Il Dottore – The cold and calculating Second Harbinger from Genshin Impact. He is a genius scientist who views everything, even his creations, through a detached, analytical lens. His rare moments of warmth are fleeting, masked beneath his fascination with innovation and perfection.

• Reader – An automaton created by Dottore, designed to serve as an assistant. Over time, the Reader has evolved beyond their original programming, exhibiting human traits like creativity, compassion, and courage.

Trigger Warnings:

• Emotional Vulnerability – Themes of fear, hope, and seeking approval are present, especially in the relationship between creator and creation.

• Power Dynamics – The relationship between Dottore and the Reader reflects an imbalance of power and control, which might evoke discomfort for some readers.

• Exploration of Humanity – Philosophical undertones about individuality, free will, and breaking boundaries of design or expectation are woven throughout the story.

Masterlist

Words: 647

You weren’t just another assistant or experiment. No, you were a creation of his own genius: an automaton, perfect in form and function. Programmed to assist, to obey, to complete tasks without error or hesitation. And yet… you had evolved. Somewhere along the way, your programming had bent under the weight of something you couldn’t identify.

---

The laboratory buzzed with the quiet hum of machinery and the flicker of blue light that painted every corner. It was cold, clinical—a reflection of its master. Yet, amidst the order and precision, there was you, a rogue variable in the ever-calculating mind of Il Dottore.

Something human.

And it had all led to this moment.

Your fingers—still and precise as they worked—moved against the expectations of your coding. The small gears clicked softly as you pieced together the contraption. A gift. A present. For him.

It was entirely illogical. You knew it wasn’t something your creator, the Second Harbinger, would ever request or need. Yet, the thought of presenting him with something you had made filled your circuits with an unfamiliar warmth.

Hours ticked by as you worked in secret, hidden in the back recesses of the laboratory. Every moment you expected him to walk in, his piercing gaze tearing through you with a mix of curiosity and disappointment. But he never did.

When the device was finished, it gleamed in the dim light. A delicate mechanical bird, crafted from scraps of silver and gold, with intricate gears that would let it sing when wound.

The day finally came when you gathered your courage. He was seated at his desk, multiple screens in front of him displaying complex data. His mask sat beside him, revealing the sharp angles of his face and the faintest trace of a smirk as he analyzed his findings.

You approached cautiously, the tiny bird hidden behind your back.

“Ah, there you are,” he said without looking up. “I was beginning to wonder if my creation had suddenly found a way to bypass her tasks. Highly improbable, of course, but… amusing to consider.”

“I… have something for you,” you said, your voice quiet but steady.

That caught his attention. His red eyes snapped to yours, narrowing slightly. “Something for me?” he echoed, his tone a mix of intrigue and skepticism.

You stepped forward and held out the small bird, its polished surface catching the light.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, he leaned forward, his gloved hand taking the bird with surprising gentleness.

“You made this?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the sharp edge of his usual tone dulled by something else.

You nodded. “I thought… it might please you. It’s not perfect, but I worked hard to—”

“Against your programming,” he interrupted, his gaze locking onto yours. “You defied the parameters I set for you.”

You froze, unsure how to respond. Fear twisted in your chest. Would he see this as a failure? A betrayal?

But then, he chuckled—a low, rich sound that sent a shiver through you.

“Fascinating,” he said, leaning back in his chair and turning the bird in his hands. “You’ve surpassed your design in ways I didn’t anticipate. You continue to surprise me.”

He wound the small mechanism, and the bird began to sing, its delicate melody filling the air.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze softening as he looked at it. Then, his eyes flicked back to you. “And utterly unnecessary. But I… appreciate the sentiment.”

Your circuits hummed with relief and an odd sense of pride.

“Thank you, Dottore,” you said softly.

“No,” he said, a small, rare smile curving his lips. “Thank you. This proves your potential is far greater than I imagined. I’ll have to see how far I can push you.”

Though his words carried the promise of more experiments, his tone held something deeper—a genuine curiosity, and perhaps, the faintest trace of affection.

---

#fanfic #oc #fanfiction #fluff #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #dottore x reader #dottore genshin #genshin impact dottore #dottore #dottore x experiment #dottore x female reader #dottore x you #dottore x y/n #Present gifting

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no-thanks-im-stuffed · 7 months ago

Text

I have a Gravity Falls Theory I've been meaning to write down for a WHILE so here goes:

Stanford Pines is no genius and I'm gonna pick apart every single one of "Ford's" scientific inventions/accomplishments to prove it.

Grab a beverage, this is gonna be a long one

[Gravity Falls spoilers, a little bit of The Book of Bill]

Contents:

Ford's "Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness"

Codes and Secrets

Inventions

Ford's Tragic Backstory

McGucket

Why Would He Do This??

After Weirdmageddon

TLDR

1. Ford's "Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness"

I can support most of my claims with the help of Journal 3. Unless Ford had actual, scientific research papers, this is the only research we have from him and it's... not scientific in the slightest. Ford treats his "research notes" like a personal diary. I get that they had to design the Journal to be entertaining to kids, but from a scientific lense (which is what he wants to be perceived through), most of Ford's discoveries are very surface level and sometimes (especially later on) border on paranoid conspiracy theorist rambling.

His Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness is the reason he came to Gravity Falls in the first place. His goal is clear:

but, on the very next page, the ramblings start.

It gets worse once he finds the invisible ink.

"The pyramids were built to appease Bill!" sure, buddy.

(And yes, Bill confirms most of these ramblings about his history in The Book of Bill, but a) he too could be lying about this and b) I don't think he had a nice chat with Ford about who he tricked and tormented to build his portal. It wouldn't really fit into the timeline.)

The one bit of "science" I found him doing was his experimentation with the Bottomless Pit. He threw objects in the hole and only saw some stuff coming back while other stuff went missing. Ford hypothesizes it might be a "Möbius Pit" and even spends enough time experimenting on it that he found out "nothing ever seems to get lost on Friday the Thirteenth". Credit where credit is due.

Anyway, he's documenting all kinds of fantastical creatures in the Journal - adding his whimsical commentary and making random assumptions about stuff without any scientific basis. As he admits himself later on, this is getting him nowhere to actually start his Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness, let alone finish it. It's been SIX YEARS.

BUDDY WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

It took a spark of "divine intervention" to even start doing any meaningful research and it was just Bill telling him "hey there's a weirdness dimension btw".

Ford even admits that he didn't come up with it himself. The next pages are the first actually scientific looking ones so far, but more on that in the Inventions section.

He doesn't really advance on his Weirdness Theory for a while (see McGucket chapter for more), but later in the Journal, Ford has a little adventure with Dipper, talking about "The True Theory of Weirdness". He drops a "weird" jelly bean on the floor and watches it roll uphill towards Gravity Falls. He then states that Gravity Falls is a "Weirdness Magnet" and every oddity is eventually drawn to this place. Which is not a theory scientifically speaking, more like an unproven hypothesis. He didn't develop a model to, let's say, predict which oddity will find its way to Gravity Falls next or when it will happen.

"I explained that I felt in my bones that my arrival at this town, and perhaps Dipper's, too, was not an accident. That we were part of some greater fate the town had in store for us." Very scientific.

2. Codes and Secrets

The Journal has several hidden messages from a good handful of characters, some more encoded than others.

We all know about the Map leading to the secrets of Nathaniel Northwest's fraud from the show. Ford found it somewhere in the library.

It just needed to be folded. Layton ass puzzle. A 12 year old figured it out. Ford couldn't do it. Even Mabel is poking fun at him.

Now on to the ciphers.

One of them is a letter from Blendin, encrypted with the Vigenère cipher. To this, Stanford "aced cryptology" Pines says the following:

He was given the key and still couldn't make sense of it. Of course a cool puzzle for people reading the Journal, but not really helping Ford with upholding his image of being an undeniable genius.

Ford himself mainly uses the Atbash and Caesar ciphers, both being a) literally thousands of years old, b) incredibly simple and c) not his own invention.

Bill uses two symbol substition ciphers.

Now I don't know about you, but if a divine being chose me as the genius of the century to inspire me and said being left tiny hidden messages in my diary, I would stop at nothing to try and decipher what they're trying to tell me. For some reason, Ford did not do this. The first message Bill leaves says "I'VE BEEN INSIDE YOUR MIND SIXER, I KNOW YOUR SECRETS". He could have seen all of this coming wayyy earlier (or just had yet another red flag to ignore).

Anyway, I accidentally solved the code before finishing the Journal just to discover that Bill is literally handing him the solution on a silver platter towards the end.

Girl, what do you mean "???" ??

Now, I know Ford at this point is incredibly sleep deprived, paranoid and traumatized. But come on. If I can solve it 6 coffees in while dissociating, our genius can find the solution to Bill's alphabet using the A1Z26 cipher that he put in the journal himself. Plus, as mentioned, he could have deciphered his alphabet way before The Betrayal when his mind was still sound.

So again, not a good look for Ford in the whole genius department.

3. Inventions

Now let's take a look a the inventions which are most commonly associated with Stanford:

The Portal

The Bunker

The Magnet Gun

The Quantum Destabilizer

The Perpetual Motion Machine

The Portal is not one of Ford's inventions, that much is pretty clear. He "comes up with the idea" after Bill told him about some kind of "weirdness dimension".

Now maybe Ford built the portal. Or McGucket built it (which I find more likely due to his tendency to build large scale metal structures) and Ford helped him. We can't really say for sure.

What we CAN say for sure is that McGucket left the day before the big test, which means the portal was basically finished at that point. So if there was still any work left to be done, it would have been minimal and "even Stanley" could figure it out without help, so Ford probably could have, too.

The Bunker. Designed and built by McGucket (and possibly the lumberjacks before zapping them with the Memory Gun), including the death trap of a security system.

Notice the wording. McGucket insisted he could do it on HIS own. But then went out of his way to ask the lumberjacks and not Ford to help excavate the whole thing.

Why? Why not include Ford? Maybe because McGucket could tell Ford was overworked. Maybe because he thought even with Ford's help, they wouldn't have been able to do it in a timely manner and he didn't want to memory zap more people than neccessary, I'm not sure.

Anyway, the Bunker consists of the Bunker itself, a Security Room, an Observation Room and a Storage Room. On top of that, a Temperature Control Apparatus, a Cooling System and a Cryogenic Tube.

Again with the phrasing. "HIS skill for construction". "telephone HE built". "my assistant really topped HIMSELF with the security precautions". "once F starts inventing, HE can't stop".

A man like Ford wouldn't pass up on an opportunity to tell the world about his own accomplishments, yet they are strangely missing in these pages. However, the sketches documenting McGucket's work have become more technical than they've ever been. They even have small annotations that seem as if Ford asked McGucket what he was currently building.

"F has explained" implies McGucket was once again doing this on his own. Why else would he need to explain anything to Ford if they were doing this together? Plus, again, surely Ford would have mentioned something, anything, if he had participated in any way.

The things he DID mention is that he found a mole man skeleton and "Shifty", the shapeshifting creature. And he saved McGucket once Shifty broke out of their cage (Remember this for later, it'll come in handy). And he conducts tests on Shifty (remember this as well).

On to the Magnet Gun.

Again, passive form. If Ford had modified the gun himself, he would have told us. Chances are it was once again McGucket. Or it was just taken from Crash Site Omega as Ford says in the show that he and McGucket came down there often to loot the UFO for tech.

Lastly: The Quantum Destabilizer.

He actually admits he worked on it. However, he spent 30 years between dimensions. In these 30 years he couldn't find anyone (including himself) to get the Destabilizer working. The Other McGucket, however, was able to do it in less than a week.

Ford claims he was missing a suitable power source which The Other McGucket found, but there's no way of knowing if there was more to those "minor adjustments" to Ford's blaster than Ford would like to admit.

The only invention left is the Perpetual Motion Machine which I will save for the "Tragic Backstory" section.

Honorable mentions:

The Hyperdrive needed to power the portal:

"F's mechanical know-how" vs. "my keen intuition." implying Ford merely found the Hyperdrive, but McGucket extracted it safely.

So the Hyperdrive was looted from Crash Site Omega. Plus, McGucket was the one to realize it was even needed in the first place.

While between dimensions, he was given a Dimensional Translator. Also not his own invention.

The metal plate in his head? Not his invention. Not even his idea. The Oracle did that for him.

The Book of Bill has another example that Ford can't invent for shit: He found the blueprint of Abigale Blackwing's Anti-Bill-Suit in the library (once again, not even his own invention) and drafted a more modern blueprint. And either he completely failed to build it or it didn't work because we never hear from it again. Instead, he installs a retina scanner to keep Bill out of the lab. Which he (probably) ALSO didn't build himself.

In summary:

Portal: blueprint by Bill, (probably) built by McGucket.

Bunker: designed and built by McGucket (probably with the help of the lumberjacks).

Magnet Gun: likely looted from Crash Site Omega.

Quantum Destabilizer: a mess before McGucket fixed it overnight

Perpetual Motion Machine: see below.

Dimensional Translator: Not Ford's invention.

Metal Plate: thought of and installed by The Oracle.

Anti-Bill-Suit: invented by Abigale Blackwing.

In fact, he mostly doesn't even say that he did any of this. He openly admits whenever he took something or McGucket built stuff, and barely calls any of the inventions his own. We just assumed that he can (on account of him being a genius), so we assumed he did.

4. Ford's Tragic Backstory

would only make sense if he ACTUALLY couldn't get the Perpetual Motion Machine to work. We already know Ford is an unreliable narrator and I'm probably not the first one to point out that it doesn't make sense that Stan supposedly cost Ford his entire scholarship by breaking his Perpetual Motion Machine (accident or not).

Think about it from a college's point of view: You hear about a young man who apparently built a machine that violates the laws of thermodynamics. You don't just pass up on something like that just because it didn't work the ONE TIME you came to visit. That would be an exceedingly stupid thing to do. I think they would have given him that scholarship if he even got close to achieving such a feat.

Now let's briefly assume Ford IS a genius whose invention got sabotaged. Ford could have easily fixed it and asked for a second appointment with the judges. This did not happen. And even if he didn't get into his dream school, he could have used this perpetual motion machine for the good of humanity. He didn't do that. If the Machine had ever worked, it would have made international news. It didn't. He would have been world famous. He isn't.

What does that tell us?

Does he even have 12 PHDs as he keeps claiming? In what? For what reason? Wouldn't he get a scholarship for his dream school at some point given his seemingly endless potential? It all seems like overcompensation to me. Reminds me of Tommy Tallarico and his ever-increasing number of Guinness World Records.

However, there is a reason Ford is like this. It is connected to his tragic backstory, but I will include this in the final chapter for narrative reasons.

Also note how even in A Better World, he did not go do his dream college. The science center was built around the Shack that he went to later in life:

And even there, he only manages to make a name of himself with McGucket's cooperation. We already established he couldn't build the portal on his own. My guess that McGucket once again did the heavy lifting and didn't mind Ford taking the credit (as you will see in the McGucket chapter).

5. McGucket

At this point we've already gone over how McGucket built (probably) most of the Portal, the Bunker and everything in it, and got the Quantum Stabilizer to work. We also know that in his free time, he loves to tinker. He canonically built a laptop (with extra keys for Fords fingers), a cellphone, the Memory Gun, several killer robots, the Shack-O-Tron and started an entire ass cult along the way.

And that's just what I picked up on from skimming the Journal.

We only see McGucket make stuff on screen. All this time he's welding together contraptions, piloting giant killer robots, having a blast.

We never see Ford tinkering ONCE. Still, he constantly praises McGucket for his "brilliant mind", "mechanical knowledge" and "skill in construction".

I think Ford was McGucket's assistant. He didn't get ANYTHING done before he called McGucket over for help. In the bunker, all he did was find a skeleton and conduct "experiments" on Shifty (by showing them pictures of creatures and documenting what happens). He led McGucket to the UFO crash site, McGucket was the one to actually extract the Hyperdrive. All of the stuff Ford does sounds more like an assistant's job to me.

I'm also pretty sure McGucket knows that Ford isn't the genius he claims to be. Upon seeing Bill's blueprints, he immediately gets suspicious:

Why would he say this to a fellow genius?

And he's the one who recognizes something is wrong with the portal earlier than anyone else.

The day before the test, he meets Ford at the diner to warn him cause he knows something is deeply wrong - and offers him a thesis paper.

Now here is where things get interesting.

Ford gets angry. But instead of saying something like "How dare you insult my scientific integrity / intelligence", he thinks McGucket wants the Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness to himself, which obviously couldn't be further from the truth. But Ford is too insecure about his intelligence and too curious about the portal to care.

This makes me wonder if McGucket had done this before. They went to college together. What if McGucket wrote Ford's final assignment as well? What if he'd seen him have a meltdown over the introduction and whipped up a fantastic final thesis in an afternoon?

We know McGucket cares deeply for Ford, and we can tell his intentions at the diner were sincere. He doesn't really want or need any credit - meanwhile Ford is starved for it. This is probably also why he's fine being "Ford's assistant" even though he's the one putting in most of the work.

6. Why Would He Do This??

Before we talk about Ford's plans after Weirdmageddon, I have to mention that there's a good reason Ford is pretending to be a genius. This is pretty speculative territory, but I think it makes sense given what we know about the Pines family.

When you're a twin, at least in the Stan Bro's case, you're constantly being compared to one another. Once it has been established that Ford is the "smarter" of the two (true or not), their father latches onto that and soon Ford's intelligence becomes his entire identity. I think just like Stan was looked down upon and neglected for being the "stupid" twin, Ford was burdened with expectations for being the "smart" twin. "You're gonna go far, kid. You're gonna make us so much money, you're gonna get us out of this dump." An INSANE thing to burden a child with.

This goes well for a while - Ford gets straight As and is the pride of the family. His ego inflates. But then something strange happens which I'm sure many "gifted kids" can relate to - he hits a wall. At some point he can no longer brute force things with his intelligence and he has trouble keeping up with his family's expectations. His massive ego gets damaged beyond repair.

Soon, he starts questioning everything. "If I'm not the smart guy, who am I? What's left?" He's been living like this his entire life. It's way too late to turn back so he moves forward. And if intelligence can't get him there, at least he can use the smarts he does have to make sure nobody else ever finds out. It's not unlikely for him to develop this attitude and it's the same kind of mindset he brings to taking the Hyperdrive from Crash Site Omega:

In a way, this makes him a con artist like Stanley. Which, after everything that's happened between the two, must feel like such an insult to Ford that he'd rather live in denial than face reality. The reality being that he is about as intelligent as Stanley, too. This doesn't mean that Stan is dumb (he managed to get the portal to work with barely any help, after all) - just that Ford is not as intelligent as he (and everyone else) thought / expected of him. AND that Stanley isn't as dumb as everyone always told him he was.

I think while yes, Stan broke the Machine, Ford couldn't fix it. Or it was never even a Perpetual Motion Machine to begin with. Yes, Ford couldn't go to his "dream college", but was that really his dream? Or his father's? Remember when McGucket offered him the Weirdness Thesis on a silver platter, saying with this he can finally "get his life back", and Ford still refused it? Maybe he didn't want his old life back. Because his old life SUCKED without Stanley in it.

7. After Weirdmageddon

Now that we established what Ford's dad wanted him to be, let's explore what Ford actually likes doing.

Obviously journaling and sketching what he sees, but what else?

Ford loves exploring. He goes on hikes, climbs mountains, visits caves, goes ham on Crash Site Omega. In the Bunker he looks around and discovers a mole man skeleton and Shifty while McGucket did the inventing/building.

He's also great at action hero stuff. He saves McGucket from the Gremloblin, and later from Shifty, he's jumping around the UFO with a magnet gun as if it's the only thing he's ever done, and saving Dipper from the security system, just to name a few.

He even says this in the episode: "I need to train an apprentice to help me fight monsters, solve mysteries, and protect this town." This doesn't really sound like science stuff to me.

So yeah I think Ford lied about being a genius to compensate for his (self perceived) lack of other qualities, he lied about his 12 PHDs, his scientific accomplishments, maybe even some inventions. He sucks at decoding things despite claiming to have "aced cryptology". Instead, he spends most of his time exploring, fighting monsters, stealing shit and getting in all kinds of dangerous situations. Truth is, he is much more similar to Stan than he'd like anyone to find out.

He also doesn't even WANT to do science. He likes the idea of science, like in Sci Fi movies, but not the actual labor that comes with it. Ford has been travelling between dimensions for 30 years. He probably is the only human to ever have done that in his dimension. Surely he spent these 30 years on research? Well...

There's only a single line mentioned in the Journal about doing anything scientific and he didn't even dedicate the entire sentence to it.

He "compared notes with scholars". That's it.

But surely he has so many papers and theories he can finally publish to fulfil his initial goal to "join the ranks of Newton, Tesla, & Einstein in the pantheon of science"?

Nope. He goes treasure hunting with Stanley. Ford seems to have forgotten all about his research. And I think that's not just because he wants to make up for lost time, but also because this is what he truly wanted to do in the first place, before he was forced into the "genius" mold.

To go adventuring, to be creative, to spend time with the family that matters.

8. TLDR

Ford didn't manage to write his Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness.

His Journal is entertaining, but ultimately full of unscientific ramblings.

He didn't build the portal, bunker, magnet gun, quantum destabilizer, or any other invention I could find.

All of his accomplishments can be traced back to either Bill, the town library, or McGucket.

He didn't write his own codes, he couldn't decipher any of the codes or secrets he found, including the ones he was given a solution to.

The Journal makes it look like Ford is McGucket's assistant and not the other way round.

McGucket is amazing and needs to be protected at all costs.

The tragicness of Ford's backstory makes no sense if he actually WAS a genius.

He needed to keep up the genius act because that's what his family expected of him and now he's con-artist level good at it.

He spent 30 years between dimensions committing crimes and preparing for revenge instead of doing science.

he seems to not even LIKE doing science. he prefers exploring, drawing, and getting into dangerous situations.

Once back in his home dimension, instead of doing anything science related, he goes adventuring with his brother.

Disclaimer: I have nothing against Ford, if anything this adds to his character cause I haven't seen anyone even so much as question his status as a genius yet. I just needed to get this out of my system cause this has been brewing in my brain since JULY.

This took me 10 hours to write. Thank you so much for making it this far, this post was brought to you by Autism™

#gravity falls #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #journal 3 #stanley pines #bill cipher #no-thanks-im-stuffed #gravity falls analysis #gravity falls theory

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reginaphalangelobster · 5 months ago

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Gone

Avengers x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader (each can be read as platonic or otherwise)

Summary: The team went on a mission, it was supposed to be simple. Supposed to be.

Warnings: Character death, human experimentation, not a lot but some intense violence, lots of angst, no happy ending.

Word Count 1,959

Your day started off like any other, you got up and put your workout clothes on and 4:45 am. You met Steve outside the tower at 5:00 and went on your usual run for about an hour. Once you got back to the compound you made everyone breakfast, that morning you chose pancakes, which the whole team devoured. After breakfast at about 7:15, you all went to the meeting room where Steve started his briefing.

'All right, quick and easy in and out HYDRA base takedown shouldn't take more than 2 hours tops' the Captain stated 'Location, small town just outside of New Orleans'.

'Sweet, we can hit the casino before we head home' Tony said, knowning full well Steve would never go for it.

'I don't think so, Tony' the super soldier said almost rolling his eyes.

You all suited up and piled into the quinjet within the hour and were off the ground by 8:00. You arrived near the HYDRA base, parked the quinjet and placed it in stealth mode all by 10:00.

Bruce stayed in the jet hoping there wouldn't be any need for a 'code green' as the team put it. The rest of you split into pairs and you were with Steve. You and Steve silently became partners a long time ago, you two just always worked well together and after some time you developed a meaningful and strong bond, becoming true best friends. The two of you snuck up on the guards and clocked them before they could even hear you. You put on a couple of helmets to sneak in and make sure there were no civilian hostages before blowing the building into the sky. You went right as Steve went left. You walked over to an elevator and just as the doors were about to shut a HYRDA agent snuck in with you. You were a bit worried he might notice you and as he got closer you just did the first thing you could think of and uttered the phrase 'hail hydra' under your breath, which seemed to work out for you as he returned the sentiment.

You heard some agents talking about 'the subjects' which you were almost certain were captives hidden somewhere, but what you didn't expect was children. You had be through and see things no one should have to, some that included children, but that didn't make it any easier when they were involved. You told Steve over comms, to meet you in the basement where you thought the kids were. You waited in the basement until 1:54 pm when you saw Steve approaching. You two searched the basement while Tony got JARVIS to take as many scans of the building as possible but there was something preventing him from seeing inside.

'J's stumped guys, he can't see through the walls, they're probably lined with lead' Tony grumbled annoyed that he hadn't considered lead.

'I don't know if you should stay in there if Tony can't see anything' Clint stated, concerned like the mother hen he is.

'We're not in there, Steve, Y/n, what do you think?' Natasha asked.

'Your call' Steve said looking to you. You had more experience with discrete infiltration than your super soldier friend who generally just bursts in.

'I say we keep going, we gotta find those kids' you said determined to help the children.

You and Steve ventured further into the basement, uncovering multiple secret rooms, but no kids. You looked for hours taking you to 6:24 pm and still no luck.

'You think we should call it a day?' Steve asked you.

'I can't leave those kids' you muttered back.

'Maybe there are no kids, maybe the agents were wrong'

'Can't take that chance, Captain'

He knew you were serious when you called him 'Captain' as you usually opted for 'Cap' or 'Steve'.

After continuing your search you finally found them. The door was locked so in one swift moment Steve knocked it down with a kick, you knew he's was a super soldier but sometimes you forgot. You rushed in the door started opening cells. Most of the children had some form of injuries but a few of them were.... different. You let one out that had feathers on her arms and another with gills, HYRDA had been experimenting on them. You had seen experimentations before but nothing this successful and not with Steve. When he saw the boy with a fluffy tail and ears you thought he might be sick, no because of the boy's appearance but because he knew the paint if experimental formulas and he hated that a child had to go through that. Many children. You could see the pain in Steve's usually soft blue eyes, not clouding with rage.

At 9:02 you started to help the children out of the building through the vent system, Clint's suggestion of course. You were greeted outside, not very warmly, by what must have been 100 HYDRA agents. The rest of the team joined you and they caught the agents as you and Steve protected the 20 odd kids. One agent grabbed a vulture-like girl, she must've be 5 years old at the most, and pointed a gun to her head. You stopped immediately, placing your weapon on the ground and you hands above your head.

'Don't hurt her, please' you begged the man but he just chuckled in response seeing how much you cared for the girl you had just barely met.

'I'll do want I want, bitch' he barked before tightening his grip on her throat. She looked up at you and muttered the words 'please help me' just before he took the shot. His finger tightened around the trigger squeezing it while staring at you the entire time. You didn't take your eyes off the little girl's. Big, beautiful, brown eyes staring up at you with hope, hope that you would save her life, but you didn't. You watched as he released his grip on her neck, letting her limp body fall to the ground with a sharp thud. You stared at her body. His gruff laughter jolting you back into reality. He knew he was about to die but seeing that he got to you made it all worth it. You turned your head back to face him, not saying a word you pounced on him. You ripped him apart, limb from limb, with your bare hands.

Steve saw you, elbow deep in the agent's bloody carcass. Then he saw the little girl lying on the ground next to you. He didn't say anything, now wasn't the time, he just continued to fight. He unleashed the bottled up rage from when he saw the children earlier.

Everyone was beating the agents senseless and just as you thought the battle was coming to a close more troop came from behind, snatching the kids from you and Nat, who had helped you after seeing what happened with the girl. The agents gather the children up and poured gasoline around them. You thought they were bluffing, even after earlier, you didn't think they would destroy all those experiments at least. You all stared as one man lit a match and smiled as he dropped it.

You where half a mile from them so by the time you all got there the flames were raging at 9 feet from the ground, still climbing.

Even in this state, Hulk knew that Steve and Tony would rush in to save them even though they'd probably due doing it, so he grabbed them and held them both in a huge bear hug making sure they couldn't escape. What he didn't account for was you.

You knew it was stupid, but you couldn't just watch them die. The rest of the team started to turn around, silently admitting defeat, but you didn't. You watched the daunting inferno, towering over you, growing, engulfing trees with the children. You ran into the blaze, covering your face with your arms. You rushed around checking the bodies, searching for any sign of life, until you saw an arm reach out. You bolted over to the girl, only slightly spared because of all the other's corpses piled on top of her, partly shielding her from the flames. You life's the bodies off of her and cradled her in your arms as you ran out of the fire.

Your teammates, your friends were terrified when they saw you run straight into fire. Every second you staying there the more they worried. They clung to the hope that you might come out, you had to.

When they saw you burst through the flames they all breathed a sigh of relief. They say you hold the girl and rushed over to you. Thor took her from your arms and the moment you let her go you collapsed. The last thing you saw was Steve hovering over you.

They saw you fall to the ground, mirroring the vulture girl from earlier. Steve pushed his way out of the Hulk's grip and rushed to your side. He picked you limp body up in his arms and rushed you to the quinjet, to which the others followed quick behind.

At 1:37 am Thor placed the girl onto the on-board med bay. They checked her over on the flight home, sustaining her for the time being and keeping her breathing. The whole time Steve held you in his arms and stared at the scrape, cuts, bruises and... burns that littered your body. The fire had burned through your suit, scorching your skin on your legs, abdomen and back mostly. Those were the worst ones. He stared at the burn that climbed from your neck, up your cheek. It captured a small amount of you hairline and crept it's way to your eye. He could see what looked like little tendrils of scarred skin creeping over the outer corner of your right eye. He ghosted his fingers over it feeling the raised skin, tears pricking at his eyes as you still hadn't moved.

Steve lowered you onto the med bay bed and Bruce checked you over, however hopeless it may seem. Steve held your hand, his glassy eyes not leaving your closed ones for a moment. Bruce inhaled deeply and looked over and the man at your bedside, wishing he didn't have to say what he was about to.

'I'm sorry' he started 'she doesn't have a pulse and she isn't breathing'.

No one said anything, the rest of the team stood around you praying that they heard him wrong.

Natasha walked over to the corner and sunk onto the floor, folding in on herself. Clint tilted his head back, resting it on the wall as a stared at the ceiling. Thor punched a wall of the quinjet, almost breaking straight through. Tony looked down and walked away, his guilty thoughts starting to take over. 'What if I had thought about lead? Then she'd still be alive'.

Everyone was choking back tears, they'd lost one of the most important people in their lives. The person who made them laugh with some of the most stupid jokes known to man. The person who taught them new training techniques, even when they thought they knew them all by now. The person that made them their favourite meal when they were feeling down. The person who nursed them back to health when they were sick. The person who somehow could always get them the best gifts come the holidays. The person who comforted them no matter what. The person that they relied on to be their rock.

You were just gone, and all by 3:00 am.

Tags:

@impetusofadream

@goldfishthegr8

@avengers-official-recruit-agent

@goreygirl03

@xenasolos

@sparklyturtlefox

@rios-sythe

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hikarry · 1 year ago

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It's officially canonical and blessed by Neil himself that Aziraphale has diaries. Since when? We can only speculate. Does he still write them? We can only guess

That opens MANY doors for questions and what-not

Say, we know he at least has had diaries since the 1800s. I can be bold enough to pull the date a lil bit back and claim he has had diaries since King Arthur's reign. Hell, maybe Aziraphale started documenting his finds and life amongst humans as soon as parchment and ink were created, the sky is the limit really

I wouldn't even be surprised if Aziraphale has written some fiction himself. Actually good fiction based on his life, perhaps. Or based on silly stories Crowley comes up with while he is drunk and uses his extraordinary imagination to entertain the angel, who knows

Anyway, that's not my point, back to focus

Obviously, he writes about his encounters with Crowley, as canon so shows. And, knowing humans have fleeting lives and don't last long, it's secure to guarantee that, apart from himself, Crowley is the most prominent character in his diaries

Alas, this is all fun and games, but let me ask you this: Aziraphale and Crowley have come up with code words and secret signs to speak to each other and rendezvous numbered places to meet, yes? All behind a curtain of secrecy for fear of being found out and, consequently, destroyed. So, tell me, why diaries where he clearly writes Crowley's name and not a code name, let's say?

Its very bold of Aziraphale to keep documentation of his life and encounters with Crowley written in paper when he spends most of his waking moments looking over his shoulder, afraid Heaven or Hell will find out about them.

It would always be a real possibility that Heaven could find some of the diaries. And have physical proof of the Arrangement just cause Aziraphale couldn't come up with some code names for his sins. Writing the diaries is really dangerous and, for someone as scared as Aziraphale, I'm just surprised he kept writing them for so long

On the other hand, they are an amazing plot device

Now that Aziraphale is gone, surely he left his diaries somewhere hidden in the bookshop. If not all, some of them

Theres a real possibility of Muriel finding the diaries by accident and handing them over to Metraton out of loyalty to Heaven because they don't know better. Or of them giving the diaries to Crowley after reading them with questions about what they read, innocently

Either scenario, I really hope they use the diaries somehow in season 3. It would be a lost chance not to

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #david tennant #michael sheen #anthony j crowley #muriel good omens

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ihaznoclue · 20 hours ago

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In The Code I Found You [Bayverse Donnie x Female Reader]

Request - Anonymous - HI! Can I get aaa... ehm... A.. Happy meal with side of Donnie X fem!reader where they met on the internet, some type of forum or discord server or whatever and they bonded pretty much and now reader wants to see him but Donnie is anxious about it since you know... He's a giant turtle mutant? I couldn't think of an ending so it's up to you!! Oh and a milkshake.. THANK U!

a/n; Alright drive forward! [I'm so hungry now]

Warning - Feeling Anxious, Hidden secrets, Acceptance

╰┈➤ You both met each other on the internet on a discord server, his username went by 'ShellCoder13' at first you thought it was funny for the username itself

Then it started with a comment on your message than a reply to one of your recent messages from today, The two of you were now talking daily, getting closer

Then it turned into late-night conversations about stuff

ShellCorder12 - My brothers are always loud, always arguing but luckily I got to talk to you, someone to talk to you know?

You - Yeah, I get the feeling, if you have anything to talk about you can always tell me :)

ShellCoder13 - Thanks Name, you're a real one

Messages turned into voice chats, debating, learning more about each other and sharing dumb memes and laughing

But you never saw his face though, thinking what he would look like

But he also never asked of yours too

After six months of chatting to each other over the phone, there was a more deeper connection between you two but you really wanted to see him, the true him

So you brought it up one night while on a voice call with each other as he went silent and you knew something was off about him today

"Don?" Your voice called out through the mic

There was a little bit of silence at first until you heard his voice speak "I - Name.. It's not that I don't want to but if you knew how badly I've wanted this to happen.."

Then a nervous chuckle came by "It's just.. I'm not exactly what you would expect"

You were confused, "What do you mean, wait pfft, I now imagine you as a 60 year old dude who is catfishing me with scientific quotes" You teased

You heard a sigh "I wish it was simple.."

A long pause was heard and then he spoke again but more lower "I'm not.. human.." He confessed

You heart skipped a beat "What do you mean?" You asked, hoping for a answer

"I mean,, I'm a six foot eight mutant turtle who basically lives in the sewers of New York City who fights crimes and the ninja clan called the 'foot clan' with my brother that I mentioned about before hand"

....

You then heard a nervous laugh "And this is the part where you leave the call and block me"

But you didn't, you asked if he was being serious to which he was, you also asked how it happened and he told you and you listened to everything he said

...

Now a week has passed by quickly.. You were on a train to NYC, though Donnie was trying to convince you on that knowing him not he internet was better and safer than in real life

But you told him that you were brave enough to come and visit him and that's what you are doing

You were now standing where he told you to meet him, somewhere that was chilly as fog was everywhere as your heart was beating out of your chest

He never saw your face before and you never saw his and this was the day you two were going to see each other for the first time

And then you saw him, a tall figure in the shadows but you then saw him, golden eyes, glasses, tech all over him, turtle shell, plastron, green skin everything that represented a turtle

You two didn't say anything but you two looked at each other, like he was trying to convince himself that this was real and this was happening at this very moment

"Hey.." You awkwardly said

"You actually came.."

"Well I did tell you I was going to meet you somehow"

He then stepped a little bit more closer to you "You're not scared?" He asked

You liked dumb-founded than raised an eyebrow and smirked "Nah I was more scared that you weren't actually going to show up and meet me here"

He then laughed "You look.. stunning.." He blushed

You tilted your head as you looked at him, scanning him with your eyes as he looked strange but beautiful

You then held out a hand "So are you.."

He didn't kiss you that night but you weren't ready either.. but when you left, you promised to come back and you did

Over and over and over again

-A<3

#tmnt bayverse x reader #bayverse turtles #bayverse tmnt #tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt x reader #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #bayverse donnie #bayverse donnie x reader #bayverse donatello #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt donatello

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myruinscreation · 3 months ago

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Jake x fem MC

[MC’s phone buzzes—Jake’s name appears.]

Jake: Are you alone?

MC: Why, are you about to confess your undying love for me? Because I’d like to be somewhere dramatic for that.

Jake: That is not why I asked.

MC: Mm, sure. But if you were going to confess, how would you do it? Over text? A secret voice message? A cryptic code hidden in an encrypted file?

Jake: MC.

MC: Jake.

Jake: You are impossible.

MC: And yet, you still talk to me. Almost like you enjoy this.

Jake: I just wanted to check if you were safe.

MC: So sweet. You care about me.

Jake: Of course, I do.

MC: That sounded suspiciously close to an I like you. Want to go ahead and say it?

Jake: You are relentless.

MC: And you’re avoiding the question.

Jake: You know the answer.

MC: I do. I just like hearing you admit it.

Jake: And what if I wanted to hear you admit something too?

MC: Oh? Like what?

Jake: Like the fact that you’d rather be talking to me than anyone else right now.

MC: Hah. Fine, you got me. I’d rather be annoying you than doing anything else.

Jake: Then I suppose we’re even.

MC: Not yet. But don’t worry, I’ll get you to confess properly soon.

Jake: We’ll see.

#moonvale #duskwood #duskwood mc #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake #jake duskwood #moonvale everbyte #jake donfort #everbyte game #everbyte duskwood

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in-a-bucket · 3 months ago

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now that i'm finally home from my track meet and i actually have some free time i want ramble about some of my thoughts on [Call to the Void] that I have been rotating around in my head for the past few days

I was not expecting to get an episode like this in Pink. I figured maybe we would get hints of people figuring stuff out in Blue and then some more clear things in White but wow Ken has already figured it out. I'm so curious as to how he discovered that WE are watching though. I get finding the bugs and realizing that whoever is running this whole thing is listening in but I wonder what tipped him off to us, the fans listening in. Did he find something in the archive room? or the library or somewhere else? Did he just have some insane revelation while he was high lmao????????? It's just so interesting cause all the heads do not know we are watching, only Monomoko does. And from what I've read in the staff threads, Moko does NOT want the other doctors to find out about us. I assume the glitch at the end of the video was Moko cutting the audio so the doctors don't listen to it (also I think it's pretty likely that's all that happened, I think Ken's fine, he wasn't breaking any rules or anything so I don't think Moko teleported him away or anything). I wonder what Ken will do with this info. Will he keep it to himself or will he tell the rest of the students. It isn't info that's going to help them escape or anything so I could see him keeping it to himself. Is Moko going to have a word with him? Do something similar to what she did with Wada in [Lily]? I'm just so curious as to if this is going to have any affect on the rest of pink (or even the rest of tetro as a whole) or if it's just a one time thing to keep the audience thinking.

Now as for the actual content of the episode. It honestly just made me so unbelievably sad the way he was speaking. Like he wasn't screaming or crying, he didn't even sound all that angry. It started off with him asking why we are here and like I said he didn't sound super angry or upset, he just wants to know. And then he starts to quietly plead with us, asking for a sign that we hear him. Even though he is repulsed by us watching and doesn't understand what we get out of this, he is still pleading for our help, to give a sign that we are there and just ughhhhhhh it hurts man. We are here because none of this is real, but hearing Ken basically beg for us to help just makes it feel so real and I just feel awful for not being able to do anything. I just really enjoy these episodes that just make you feel so frustrated on behalf of the characters cause even though you know it's not real and it's just a fictional piece of media, you still feel awful for not doing anything to help.

I know I am horribly biased and there's not much of Pink left but I am so excited to see where Ken goes from here and what he does with this information and if he'll find any more.

Also I noticed this episode took place in the laundry room and I'm not sure if this was intentional or not but I remember all the way back in chapter 1 when everyone was investigating the school, Sasaki wanted to seriously investigate the laundry room since it was the room everyone woke up in and she thought that there might be some secret code or something to help them escape hidden in there and I just think it's neat that's where Ken goes to acknowledge us.

#also also i love how many episodes we've gotten recently that have spawned a bunch of amazing Ken fanart between Defense Game and this lmaoo #keep cooking artists you are all my lifeblood #tetro danganronpa pink #hasegawa ken

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theoceanoasis · 26 days ago

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Soundwave is sent to Nyon after a few rumours by the locals said there was a predacon lurking in the city somewhere. His task is to hopefully find and convince the predacon to join the Decepticons and return to Kaon as one of Megatron's most powerful warriors. However once Soundwave arrives he quickly discovers that finding the predacon might be a little harder than he thought.

Meanwhile hidden in shadows Hot Rod watches how this handsome blue mech tries to hunt him down. This isn't the first time he's played this game but if he's feeling nice he might let Soundwave catch him.

-💙

"You called for me, Lord Megatron."

"I have a mission for you. There have been rumors coming out of Nyon about a Predacon. I want you to find them and convince them to join us."

"I understand."

He went to Nyon and began asking around. The locals were weary of an outsider and it was hard getting them to open up. He ended up at a bar trying to get a drink. This mission was going to be harder than it looked.

"Is this seat taken?"

He was about to say no when he looked up and found a pretty mech staring back at him. He had a mix of red, orange and yellow paint with a spoiler that fluttered behind him and pretty blue optics.

"No this seat isn't taken."

"Good."

The mech sat down and turned to him.

"I'm Hot Rod by the way."

"Soundwave."

The mech ordered himself a drink and he decided to ask him about the predacon.

Hot Rod usually spent his days hanging out in his cave. He'd come to realize that people feared predacons. Every time he flew close to Nyon the people would scream and run away. It hurt and the only times he visited was when he was in mech form. However he had to be careful. He'd aleady made the mistake once he couldn't do it again. When he was little he'd made a friend. They were his best friend in the whole world and he thought he could tell him his secret. However when he transformed his friend called him a monster and ran away.

The people of Nyon tried hunting him and he had to quickly escape before he was captured. After that he was careful never to get too close to anyone.

The problem was that Predacons were social creatures. They weren't made to be alone and sometimes his coding would demand he socialize.

Right now he felt the familiar itch as he entered the town. He'd learned the best way to get rid of the itch for now was through physical contact. Sinc he couldn't go up and start hugging random people. He'd have to find someone willing to interface with him.

He entered the local bar and sat down in the back. He surveyed the crowd looking for someone to interface. He found his optics drawn to a handsome stranger who was obviously knew to town. He watched him drink alone and found his spark beat pick up, His valve clenched with need and he knew he was the one. Walking over he asked if the seat next to him was open.

Soundwave wanted to ask Hot Rod about the predacon. Since he was a local he was hoping to get more information.

However they didn't do a lot of talking. Hot Rod reached over and began kissing him. He began kissing back just as eagerly. His hands roamed along his body and Hot Rod climed into his lap.

The two made out with Hot Rod grinding against his panels. When he realized other people were watching he found himself getting posessive. He didn't like them watching Hot Rod like this. It was for his optics only.

Not wanting to give them a show any longer he picked him up and took him back to his hotel room. Once the door shut they were on each other. Both of them stumbled towards the bed where he pinned Hot Rod against the mattress. He'd shivered giving him an eager look as his valve panel opened.

After that they spent a night fueled by passion. Which ended up starting again when the two woke up and didn't end until the next morning. Both of them had a lot of steam to let off since they didn't interface often.

The two layed in bed both of their fans spinning as they basked in post interface glow. They were cuddled together and Soundwave finally asked Hot Rod about the predacon.

He felt him tense and he quickly explained his mission. Hot Rod gave him a complicated look and then began talking about the predacon.

It wasn't a lot of information but it was better than nothing. After that he interfaced with him again.

Hot Rod lay awake even though his body was exhausted. He glanced at Soundwave who was asleep next to him. He wasn't the first person who'd sought him out. Usually he would evade them until they eventually gave up. However he found himself interested in the Decepticons proposition. Especially if it meant he could see Soundwave again and have more mind blowing interface.

#transformers #hot rod #rodimus #soundrod #soundwave #transformers cyberverse #hot rod x soundwave #cyberverse soundwave

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