mishaapocalypsse

[mishaapocalypsse]

Anyone wanna join my dnd campaign…asking….for a friend 👀

[mishaapocalypsse]

🎲 NOW CASTING: Join Our D&D Campaign for YouTube & Podcast! 🎙️

Are you a creative storyteller? Do you love roleplaying, getting into character, and diving deep into an epic fantasy world?

We’re looking for 4–5 players to join a brand new Dungeons & Dragons 5e campaign—and it’s all being recorded for a YouTube series and podcast! If you’ve ever wanted to be part of an actual play show from the ground up, this is your chance.

🧙‍♂️ About the Campaign

When the party awakens in a decaying inn with no memory of how they got there—and chained together—they quickly realize something is deeply wrong. The village of Veilmoor, nestled at the edge of the ancient Elder Weald forest, is rotting from within. Children are vanishing. Locals speak in riddles, wear bone talismans, and avoid the party’s gaze. The bell on the hill tolls every night, though no one dares ring it.

As the party unravels a web of suppressed history, broken rituals, and forgotten gods, they’ll confront the truth: something old and hungry stirs beneath the forest. The Hollowing has begun again. And this time, the sacrifice may be them.

Genre: Horror · Mystery · Dark Adventure

Themes: Lost time, ancient pacts, corrupted nature, unreliable reality

Tone: Atmospheric, psychological, slow-burn dread with bursts of visceral terror

Starting Level: 1-3 (recommended)

Player Roles: Investigators, survivors, or accidental heralds of something terrible

✨ What We’re Offering:

• A professionally (sometimes) run D&D 5e campaign

• Weekly sessions (virtual, using Discord)

• Exposure on YouTube, podcast platforms, and social media

• A growing Discord community

🎧 What We’re Looking For:

• Reliable, creative roleplayers (newbies welcome!)

• Good mic/audio setup

• Comfortable being recorded and published

• Able to commit to weekly games

📥 Spots are limited (first come, first served)! Fill out the application form below to join!

[mishaapocalypsse]

lookit!!¡

so happy 2 see u again fwiend i brought u cake つυ´♡⁠ ﻌ ♡⁠`⑅υつ 🧁🍰🎂

Awwww thanks so much!!!!!

[mishaapocalypsse]

Title: Starlight in the Wake

Pairing: Rodimus Prime x Cybertronian!Reader

Word Count: ~2,200

Warnings: Emotional vulnerability, some peril, light angst, romantic tension, fluff

⸻

You hadn’t meant to stay this long on the Lost Light. In fact, you hadn’t meant to be here at all.

The research station orbiting the mining colony of Vion-7 was supposed to be your last stop before returning home. But when the Decepticon raiders attacked, scattering your crew and damaging your ship, it was Rodimus and his team who had arrived in a blaze of light and fury to push them back.

A temporary rescue. That’s what they called it.

Three weeks later, you were still here.

The Lost Light was alive in a way you hadn’t expected—metallic, yes, but vibrant. Its corridors hummed like a song. The crew were eccentric and brilliant, sometimes dangerous, sometimes ridiculous. There were philosophers and gladiators, warriors and poets, and then there was Rodimus.

Loud. Daring. Infuriatingly charming.

“Are you still mad I hotwired your comms console?” he asked one day, leaning against the threshold of your temporary quarters, arms folded, mouth curled in that half-smile that made your stomach twist.

“You mean am I still mad that you rewired my personal messages to play the ‘Rodimus Was Right’ jingle every time I got one?” you replied coolly, not looking up from your datapad.

“I thought it was a good use of time,” he said. “Morale booster.”

“For who?”

“Me.”

You sighed. “Rodimus, what do you want?”

His grin faltered for a heartbeat—so quick most would’ve missed it. But you didn’t. You were beginning to learn the nuance in his expression, the subtle shift of plating over facial struts, the flicker of emotion behind his optics.

“I want you to come with me,” he said. “To the observation deck. Just for a bit.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“I like the way you see things.”

You stared at him. “That’s… weirdly poetic for you.”

He blinked. “Was it too much? I’ve been reading Rung’s recs. Emotional intelligence. Trying it out.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Just you and me?”

“Well, yeah. Unless you think Whirl would make it more romantic.”

You choked on a laugh. “Fine. But only if you don’t rewire anything on the way.”

He mock-saluted. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

⸻

The observation deck wasn’t technically a deck. It was a dome—transparent, framed in reinforced poly-alloy—and it gave you an unfiltered view of the stars. A celestial theater, always in motion.

Rodimus stood beside you, unusually quiet, hands clasped behind his back.

“They don’t look dangerous,” you said softly, pointing to the streaks of light trailing past the dome. “But they’re fast. Violent. Untouchable.”

He didn’t respond right away.

“I used to think I was like that,” he said finally. “A star that burned fast and bright. That everyone admired until it got too close and scorched them.”

You turned to look at him. He wasn’t smiling now.

“That’s not who you are.”

His optics flickered to you. “No?”

“You’re bright, yeah. But you’re not distant. You dive headfirst into everything. You don’t just burn—you light up the whole damn room.”

The silence between you stretched.

“You keep doing that,” he said.

“Doing what?”

“Saying stuff that gets past all my armor.”

You looked away, heart pounding. “Maybe I just see more than you think.”

He reached for your hand—careful, slow—and his metal fingers brushed yours. Warm, despite the alloy. Steady.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever seen me the way you do,” he said.

⸻

The next few days passed in a blur of shared meals, rerouted patrols, and too many close encounters with existential danger. You fought beside him during a scavenger mission gone wrong on a derelict moonbase. You patched his arm when it was nearly torn off by a feral spark-eater. You caught him looking at you more than once when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

“I could stay,” you said one night, more to yourself than anyone.

But he heard.

“You could.”

“I mean, it’s not like I have a ship anymore. Or a crew.”

“You’ve got one now,” he said quietly.

You looked at him.

He looked at you.

Neither of you said anything more.

⸻

Then came the distress signal.

A rogue quantum anomaly had swallowed half a science vessel on the edge of uncharted space. The Lost Light was the closest ship. Rodimus made the call.

The jump was brutal.

When you came to, the bridge was half-dark, and you could barely hear through the ringing in your ears. Systems flickered. Sparks danced from the ceiling. The floor trembled beneath you.

“Rodimus!” you called, coughing.

He stumbled into view, singed but upright, face grim.

“You okay?” he asked, crouching beside you.

You nodded shakily. “Mostly.”

“Good. Because we’ve got company.”

Out of the smoke, the intruder emerged—more shadow than mech, twisted by the anomaly, its spark energy unstable and writhing. It surged toward you, and you flinched—only for Rodimus to throw himself in front of you.

He took the hit. All of it.

You screamed his name.

The blast sent him flying into the far wall, crumpling on impact. You scrambled to him, hands shaking as you reached for his face.

“Rodimus—!”

His optics dimmed. “Guess I really lit up the room this time, huh?”

“Don’t joke—don’t you dare—”

But he was fading.

And the enemy loomed.

You didn’t think. You acted. You grabbed the damaged energon conductor beside you and slammed it into the anomaly’s form. A pulse of light erupted—and silence followed.

When the smoke cleared, the creature was gone.

And Rodimus was still offline.

⸻

He woke three days later in medbay, groggy and confused.

You were at his side before he could speak.

“You idiot,” you said, tears on your cheeks. “You nearly died.”

“I had to protect you.”

“You could’ve died.”

“I’d do it again.”

You didn’t let him finish. You leaned forward and pressed your forehead to his. “You don’t have to burn for me, Rodimus. You just have to stay.”

His fingers brushed your cheek. “You really want me to?”

“Always.”

He smiled. And for the first time, it wasn’t flashy or overconfident—it was soft. Real.

“I’m not great at this. Romance. Feelings. But if you give me a chance… I want to try.”

You laughed, wet and broken. “You already are.”

⸻

The rest of the crew pretended not to notice the way you lingered at his side, the way his arm always curved protectively around you during briefings, the way you stole quiet moments in corners of the ship that no one else used. But there were jokes, of course.

“I give it a week,” said Whirl.

“Three days,” said Swerve, passing out betting slips.

Rodimus ignored them all.

You didn’t.

You kissed him in front of the whole command crew during a particularly heated debate about protocol just to shut them up.

The room went silent.

Rodimus looked stunned. Then delighted.

And then you were pinned gently against the console, his mouth warm and hungry against yours.

When you finally broke apart, he murmured, “You keep surprising me.”

“Get used to it.”

“I plan to.”

⸻

Nights aboard the Lost Light became less lonely. You slept curled in a nest of wires and cushions he rigged in his quarters, surrounded by the low hum of his systems and the faint glow of the stars beyond the viewport.

He told you stories of Cybertron’s past, of adventures and failures and moments he wished he could rewrite.

You told him about Earth, about your dreams and the places you wanted to see.

“We’ll go there,” he promised one night, tracing a circle around your wrist with his thumb. “Everywhere. As long as I’m with you.”

“You mean that?”

“With everything I am.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed.

He caught your gaze, optics soft. “You’re not a detour, you know. You’re the destination.”

⸻

And when you said “I love you,” whispered under a canopy of stars while the ship drifted through a sea of nebulae, he didn’t hesitate.

“I love you more than anything in the universe,” he said, voice low and reverent. “And I don’t care if that makes me reckless.”

You smiled. “You were reckless long before me.”

“Yeah,” he said, nuzzling your temple. “But now I’ve got a reason to be even more reckless.”

[mishaapocalypsse]

🎲 NOW CASTING: Join Our D&D Campaign for YouTube & Podcast! 🎙️

Are you a creative storyteller? Do you love roleplaying, getting into character, and diving deep into an epic fantasy world?

We’re looking for 4–5 players to join a brand new Dungeons & Dragons 5e campaign—and it’s all being recorded for a YouTube series and podcast! If you’ve ever wanted to be part of an actual play show from the ground up, this is your chance.

🧙‍♂️ About the Campaign

When the party awakens in a decaying inn with no memory of how they got there—and chained together—they quickly realize something is deeply wrong. The village of Veilmoor, nestled at the edge of the ancient Elder Weald forest, is rotting from within. Children are vanishing. Locals speak in riddles, wear bone talismans, and avoid the party’s gaze. The bell on the hill tolls every night, though no one dares ring it.

As the party unravels a web of suppressed history, broken rituals, and forgotten gods, they’ll confront the truth: something old and hungry stirs beneath the forest. The Hollowing has begun again. And this time, the sacrifice may be them.

Genre: Horror · Mystery · Dark Adventure

Themes: Lost time, ancient pacts, corrupted nature, unreliable reality

Tone: Atmospheric, psychological, slow-burn dread with bursts of visceral terror

Starting Level: 1-3 (recommended)

Player Roles: Investigators, survivors, or accidental heralds of something terrible

✨ What We’re Offering:

• A professionally (sometimes) run D&D 5e campaign

• Weekly sessions (virtual, using Discord)

• Exposure on YouTube, podcast platforms, and social media

• A growing Discord community

🎧 What We’re Looking For:

• Reliable, creative roleplayers (newbies welcome!)

• Good mic/audio setup

• Comfortable being recorded and published

• Able to commit to weekly games

📥 Spots are limited (first come, first served)! Fill out the application form below to join!

[mishaapocalypsse]

Yes

diner

[mishaapocalypsse]

GO LOOK AT THIS PERSON"S ART RN 🔫

My latest drawing of my main oc Onyx. Non-lighting version under the cut.

[mishaapocalypsse]

dean is always being asked to kill his children but he can never do it. his children are made into monsters and he can never kill them. not sam not emma not jack. he was made to be a weapon but he won’t ever turn it on his kids. 

[mishaapocalypsse]

hiii 💕 may i request Soldier Boy x (fem) reader? like she's really insecure about her appearance, being a bit chubby but without the "curvy" stereotype and she can't help but compare herself to Crimson Countess and can't believe that a man like him would even turn to look at her.

pd. Congratulations on getting engaged! ♡

|| Waiting For A Girl Like You||

Pairings: Soldier Boy x Chubby! Reader

Warnings: None, except some adult language, and sexual themes.

More under the line!

PS: Not engaged anymore...long story short...not the person for me. Anyway, enjoy this after two years lol.

You didn’t wear red.

Not because you didn’t like it—hell, you loved it. It was bold, confident, striking. But it reminded you too much of her. Crimson Countess. With that hourglass silhouette, those legs for miles, that cleavage like a goddamn billboard. She was the kind of woman comic books were built around, a living pin-up.

You? You couldn’t even look in the mirror without that tightness in your chest. The softness of your arms, the slight roll of your belly when you sat down, the way jeans always cut into your waist even if they fit in the legs—it all just felt wrong. Like you were the before photo in an ad that had never aired.

And yet… somehow, Soldier Boy looked at you.

Sometimes.

And God, did that make it worse.

It started with glances.

Quick, casual, meaningless. You’d tell yourself that. Had to. Because the second you believed they meant anything more, your mind would immediately summon her. What he used to have. What he wanted back.

What you could never be.

He’d crash on your couch when he wasn’t laying low in some safe house, mumble about how the others were all assholes, flick his Zippo and pretend not to notice the way your voice dipped when you answered his questions. You tried to hide it—your affection. Your awe. Your hunger.

It was embarrassing. You knew better. He was Soldier Boy.

And you? You were just… the chubby girl who blended into the crowd. Not curvy in the glamorized way. Just soft. Plain. The one who made herself small in pictures and avoided full-body mirrors.

But tonight, something shifted.

He was drunk. Or high. Or both. Slouched on your couch, boots kicked off, green eyes fixed on the TV but unfocused. His flannel hung open over a stained white tee, his dog tags glinting dully against his chest. You padded into the living room barefoot, arms crossed over your oversized shirt.

“You ever heard of pants?” he drawled, voice rough like sandpaper dipped in honey.

You flinched. Then looked down. Just a long tee and bare thighs. Chubby ones.

“I’m at home,” you muttered, tugging the hem down. “Didn’t know I needed to dress up for company.”

He turned his head toward you. Really looked at you.

And it was a problem.

His gaze lingered on your legs, then back up to your face—lazy, appraising. But not cruel. Not mocking. It made you burn.

“I like it,” he said. Simple. Grunted it out like a truth too obvious to need repeating.

You blinked.

“Don’t mess with me,” you whispered, almost too soft to hear.

His brow furrowed. “I’m not.”

You stared at him.

“You don’t have to pretend,” you said, heart thudding. “I’m not Crimson Countess. I know what I look like.”

His expression darkened. He sat forward, arms on his knees, cigarette ash dusting the carpet.

“Don’t say that name around me.”

You flinched again, but this time from his tone. Like it hurt him. Like it stabbed.

“She was... the perfect kind of beautiful,” you mumbled anyway. “Not like me. You know that.”

There was a silence that felt like walking a tightrope in a storm. Then:

“The hell I do.”

You looked at him, startled.

Soldier Boy stood, slow and deliberate, towering over you now. That flannel, that stubble, that barely restrained violence. You took a step back instinctively.

“I knew a woman who wore red like it was war paint,” he said, eyes cold. “Who kissed like a lie and smiled like a blade. Who turned on me the second I wasn’t useful anymore.”

His voice dropped, rough with memory.

“She was never soft with me. Not once.”

You swallowed. Your hands trembled.

“I’m not useful,” you murmured, meaning I’m not pretty. “I’m not—why would someone like you even look at someone like me?”

He stared at you for a long, weighted moment.

Then he closed the space.

“Because you’re real,” he said, biting off each word. “Because you don’t flinch when I lose it. Because you make eggs without acting like I’m a fucking monster. Because your laugh sounds like something I didn’t think existed anymore.”

His voice cracked. Just a little.

“And yeah, because you’re pretty. You’re fucking gorgeous. And if you ever say otherwise again, I swear to God—”

Your breath hitched.

“Say it again,” you whispered.

He blinked. “What?”

“That I’m pretty.”

It came out small. Desperate.

His face softened. Just barely. The tension bled from his shoulders, and he touched your cheek like he didn’t trust his hand not to ruin you.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, like it hurt to admit. Like he didn’t know how to say it right. “Not in some picture-perfect, pin-up bullshit way. In a way that makes me feel like maybe I’m not dead inside.”

You made a small, broken sound.

His thumb traced your cheekbone. Rough fingertip, tender pressure.

“I don’t know what the hell this is,” he muttered. “But when I’m with you, I don’t wanna blow shit up. I just… wanna stay. Eat breakfast. Watch dumb TV.”

You couldn’t help the tears that welled. You hated that. But his hand cupped the back of your neck and pulled you in.

“I see you,” he said, voice low. “Every inch. Every curve. Every soft part you hate. I see it. And I want it all.”

You melted.

And when he kissed you—gruff and clumsy and starved—it didn’t feel like a fantasy. It felt real. Heavy with scars, trembling with need.

You weren’t Crimson Countess.

You were something he had chosen.

And for the first time in a long, long time, you let yourself believe it.

[mishaapocalypsse]

🎲 NOW CASTING: Join Our D&D Campaign for YouTube & Podcast! 🎙️

Are you a creative storyteller? Do you love roleplaying, getting into character, and diving deep into an epic fantasy world?

We’re looking for 4–5 players to join a brand new Dungeons & Dragons 5e campaign—and it’s all being recorded for a YouTube series and podcast! If you’ve ever wanted to be part of an actual play show from the ground up, this is your chance.

🧙‍♂️ About the Campaign

When the party awakens in a decaying inn with no memory of how they got there—and chained together—they quickly realize something is deeply wrong. The village of Veilmoor, nestled at the edge of the ancient Elder Weald forest, is rotting from within. Children are vanishing. Locals speak in riddles, wear bone talismans, and avoid the party’s gaze. The bell on the hill tolls every night, though no one dares ring it.

As the party unravels a web of suppressed history, broken rituals, and forgotten gods, they’ll confront the truth: something old and hungry stirs beneath the forest. The Hollowing has begun again. And this time, the sacrifice may be them.

Genre: Horror · Mystery · Dark Adventure

Themes: Lost time, ancient pacts, corrupted nature, unreliable reality

Tone: Atmospheric, psychological, slow-burn dread with bursts of visceral terror

Starting Level: 1-3 (recommended)

Player Roles: Investigators, survivors, or accidental heralds of something terrible

✨ What We’re Offering:

• A professionally (sometimes) run D&D 5e campaign

• Weekly sessions (virtual, using Discord)

• Exposure on YouTube, podcast platforms, and social media

• A growing Discord community

🎧 What We’re Looking For:

• Reliable, creative roleplayers (newbies welcome!)

• Good mic/audio setup

• Comfortable being recorded and published

• Able to commit to weekly games

📥 Spots are limited (first come, first served)! Fill out the application form below to join!

[mishaapocalypsse]

🎲 NOW CASTING: Join Our D&D Campaign for YouTube & Podcast! 🎙️

Are you a creative storyteller? Do you love roleplaying, getting into character, and diving deep into an epic fantasy world?

We’re looking for 4–5 players to join a brand new Dungeons & Dragons 5e campaign—and it’s all being recorded for a YouTube series and podcast! If you’ve ever wanted to be part of an actual play show from the ground up, this is your chance.

🧙‍♂️ About the Campaign

When the party awakens in a decaying inn with no memory of how they got there—and chained together—they quickly realize something is deeply wrong. The village of Veilmoor, nestled at the edge of the ancient Elder Weald forest, is rotting from within. Children are vanishing. Locals speak in riddles, wear bone talismans, and avoid the party’s gaze. The bell on the hill tolls every night, though no one dares ring it.

As the party unravels a web of suppressed history, broken rituals, and forgotten gods, they’ll confront the truth: something old and hungry stirs beneath the forest. The Hollowing has begun again. And this time, the sacrifice may be them.

Genre: Horror · Mystery · Dark Adventure

Themes: Lost time, ancient pacts, corrupted nature, unreliable reality

Tone: Atmospheric, psychological, slow-burn dread with bursts of visceral terror

Starting Level: 1-3 (recommended)

Player Roles: Investigators, survivors, or accidental heralds of something terrible

✨ What We’re Offering:

• A professionally (sometimes) run D&D 5e campaign

• Weekly sessions (virtual, using Discord)

• Exposure on YouTube, podcast platforms, and social media

• A growing Discord community

🎧 What We’re Looking For:

• Reliable, creative roleplayers (newbies welcome!)

• Good mic/audio setup

• Comfortable being recorded and published

• Able to commit to weekly games

📥 Spots are limited (first come, first served)! Fill out the application form below to join!

[mishaapocalypsse]

DON'T PUT YOUR TRIGGERS AND/OR PHOBIAS IN YOUR WEBSITES/PINNED POSTS/BIOS/ETC. FOR EVERYONE ON THE INTERNET TO SEE. ONLY TRUSTED PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW THAT INFORMATION, NOT THE WHOLE INTERNET. YOU WILL GET HURT!!! MEAN PEOPLE WILL USE IT AGAINST YOU!!!

[mishaapocalypsse]

Hey everyone, back from hiatus!

It’s been awhile but I’m here and back to writing fanfics. Very tired but I’m gonna get to everyone’s asks in my inbox rest assured.

And if people want some more content from me, feel free to send me asks and prompts!

[mishaapocalypsse]

Loooove this persons art raaaaah!!

I hadn't posted this either but I drew this for @askfembendy / @fl0ral-inkk awhile back, decided I might as well post it

She's so pretty /pos

[mishaapocalypsse]

I was caught up on this situation and for real, it’s been so crazy. Like I agree not one person can just let go of something that’s been going on for the past YEAR. I am so sorry for everyone who was a part of this situation. Seriously, people just need to take accountability. SMH

Outdated??? Outdated??

Seriously you're calling it outdated but you put up the Onyx post THIS YEAR

Don't go trying to flip the script please, you know what you did

You know this wasn't something you just let go of last year

This was ongoing up until THIS YEAR

The situation where you blocked me from the Bendy au community was THIS MONTH

You're the one still dragging it, don't you dare try to play it like I only brought it up to bring it up after it "settled"

And there u go changing ur user again to hide from taking accountability

Dude I gave ur accs out so ppl can BLOCK you if they want to, never did I once do it for ppl to attack you so please stop treating it as if I'm attacking you I'm not

We really don't need this gaslighting and manipulation

[mishaapocalypsse]

Shigaraki ass motherfucker

[mishaapocalypsse]

Can I please get Nsfw alphabet for miguel? Or headcanons ❤️

20 Headcannon’s for Miguel O’Hara

Warnings: NSFW under the cut; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

1.) When it comes to this fine specimen, at first he’s a bit not into you in my opinion of his character. Like does he notice you? Maybe, he just might not have the time nor the energy to make a move at you at first.

2.) Like the first one, he is mourning the loss of his child as well as trying to keep Spider Society from collapsing on itself so again, he may just not have time.

3.) Yet when he does have time, oh boy does this man have time.

4.) Anywhere, Anytime, Any Place.

5.) I believe he’s a firm believer of buy a lady or gentleman dinner before mating pressing them to him headboard and not stopping his dominant thrusting until you cum and quake with such a feverish desire it makes you droll puddles.

6.) He’s bisexual; he has to be. No way that with his bisexual lighting is he straight all the way.

7.) This man loves to get blown, I mean keep sucking him off while he tries to keep his composure reading up on files or doing paperwork.

8.) He bites…hard.

9.) Dominant man for sure, the type of man who grips you by the neck and fucks into you like it’s his last day on Earth.

10.) In addition to the previous statement, he will eat you like it’s his last meal, his fingertips digging into your thighs, lathering your arousal as it drips onto his sheets, down his face, looking up with you, hungrily.

11.) He stress fucks and will stress fuck you if you’re stress. You’re both stressed? Good. It will happen and it will make the two of you feel better.

12.) Consent is key. If you say stop? He stops. He’s a keeper in an iron tumbler.

13.) On a mission? No biggie…after it he will pull you into a back alley, pay for a hotel room, on the roof…he will get a chance to slide himself deep between your legs and pull off a quickie no big deal anytime.

14.) He lives for the times you dig your nails into his skin…anywhere, he’s a sucker for rough sex.

15.) I fully agree that he is a sucker for pain. Fucking masochist.

16.) He leaves a trail of marks on your skin and claims you, literally.

17.) Be warned, might get pregnant with this guy. He loves wearing protection but the rough sex might end up getting you two kids and a mortgage payment monthly.

18.) It’s the weekend? Saturday morning you’ll hear Secreto De Amor or other Hispanic music playing while he’s downstairs cleaning his kitchen and house. This man will take you to his actual home.

19.) You’ll end up on those counters at the end of the night.

20.) Miguel will take you to church on Sunday morning to repent for the last nineteen sins the two of you did during this time.