#OR they could do... like... Escape from the City... or LIVE AND LEARN. yeah.

[hall0wedwyrm]

saying it now, before i forget:

If 'I Am All of Me' is NOT in Sonic 3... i am going to riot.

its SHADOWS SONG. and if they pull out some bs like 'All Hail Shadow' i will also be causing a fist fight.

Also extra bonus points if they somehow:

a. get Crush 40 to come back and cover it for the movie (they did the live tour thing and even covered it there so why wouldnt they do it again??)

b. get literally any emo or rock bad to cover it. My top and unrealistic pick is Fall Out Boy or MCR, but like I'll settle for them bringing back Kellin Quinn to do it. Please it would be really cool and also you guys did it 4 times for Frontiers please please PLEASE

i WILL NOT accept some dumbass rap song with some rapper ive never heard of. Thats not the vibe i think anyone wants. and its not Shadow's vibe, and this is the chance to get the younger audience into Shadow's character and story

that is all have a good day

[sistertotheknowitall]

Masterpost

“But to the BatFam? That is just Some Guy. A random dude - if you will.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m missing my spleen.”

“Oh cool, yeah, missing organs suck. I’m missing a kidney and part of my liver. Oh! And my gallbladder but that was more of a necessary evil, it was like, poisoning me or something.” Danny was so focused on applying pressure to his wound (and maybe being a bit too light headed) that he didn’t notice how silent his friend had gotten. Like-wise the comms had gone equally quiet as Gotham’s vigilante family realized that they knew very little about this kid.

It was concerning how quickly they all started to see him as a friend considering it was them as vigilantes he interacted with the most. Tim was the only one who saw him frequently when out of the suit because he was a regular at Danny’s day job. (He worked as a barista in the coffee shop Tim favored.) The others saw him occasionally but more often than not it was just in passing. Steph, Duke, and Dick had to stop themselves from approaching him on the street.

It was odd, one day he had just moved to Gotham, seeming to appear out of nowhere, and then the next he was a constant presence in their lives. Usually armed and ready with a concerning or odd quip, it had started with him being another victim of the city’s petty criminals and had snowballed from there.

Now it wasn’t like the bats saw Danny everyday, but it was expected that he would cross paths with at least three of them before the end of the week. They ran into him more often than any other Gothamite, including the criminals and rouges they fought.

At first the constant meetings by “coincidence” was suspicious. If he wasn’t the one being saved from a mugging, kidnapping, or city wide villain assault, then he was near by and trying to help.

(“Trying to help” usually meant drawing attention to himself so the original victim could escape. Once it had meant Danny armed with a baseball bat against four grown men. Bruce and Dick have tried to talk to him about putting himself in harms way but the kid is surprisingly elusive when he wants to be. Yet, even when avoiding Batman and his eldest, Danny could be found on the patrol route of another family member.)

But honestly? The guy seemed just as exhausted as they were of seeing each other. By the twelfth time in a month, Danny had accused them of stalking him.

The background check Bruce and Tim had run came back clean and he never seemed to be involved in the various criminal activities. He was just there, a weirdly unlucky bystander. So as far as Dick and the others could see, Danny was a completely normal dude. He just said strange things and wasn’t intimidated by them, he actually made it a point to be unhelpful sometimes. When trying to learn his name he gave them the run around for two months. (“I know about stranger danger. I don’t care how often you say you’re the ‘good guys.’ I’m not falling for it.”)

On one memorable occasion Danny had disappeared for a week and a half. When they started to assume the worse, he popped back up behind the counter at work. Tim had relaxed significantly when he entered the shop to Danny organizing pastries in the display case. Once he’d placed his order, the young CEO asked Danny if he’d been on vacation. To which Danny had just sighed and told Tim “I wish, but no I was called to court to handle some affairs I couldn’t get out of.” (After a check to see if Danny had gotten charged with something and coming back empty, Tim had concluded that it was an odd way to say he had had jury duty.)

Thinking about it now, outside a stray comment or two, Danny didn’t talk about himself or his life. They knew he didn’t have a good relationship with his parents, “they were much more goal oriented than that joke of a kidnapper, but I think drugs do that to a person.” (It was still unclear if he meant his parents were kidnappers themselves or on drugs.) They knew he had an older sister who would “kill me again if she finds out I was in another bank robbery.” They also knew he was, possibly, depressed after last week’s comment of “is it considered murder if you’re already dead but, like, still alive?” (Damian had saved him from a drug ring but after another ��baby ninja” comment the young Robin had threatened to give Danny back to his would-be murderers.)

Dick knew Danny was a weird guy who never wanted to elaborate on the things he said. (Jason was still confused on what he meant by “rotted milk soul.”) That didn’t mean the comments themselves didn’t say a lot about him. And tonight’s comment, accompanied by the prominent and jagged autopsy scars, said more than Danny was probably willing to share.

Part one

[cyberrose2001]

I hate TF One sentinel so much.

I fucking hate him.

I hate him so much I wanna see this mech a whimpering teary mess underneath me after overloading more than he can take.

I want him overstimulated and trembling. venting hard as he is forced to cum again. Tied down and obedient to no one else but me. Him on his knees begging for release.

I hate him so much I wanna see him pathetic and whipped for pussy or spike. Hell make him whipped for both. Go wild.

TF:One Sentinel Prime x Human Reader

okay so i had a couple ideas but this is the one i went with. essentially sentinel using you to make his dick look bigger so he can stroke his ego, but keeps it a secret. to which you find pathetic and of great value (aka to keep living it up rich giant alien robot style)

also go easy on me!! slowly learning how to write for the universe (as alot of people probably are)

Warnings: TF:ONE SPOILERS, Cybertronian/Human, Dom/Sub Elements, Humiliation/Degradation, Bondage, Face Sitting/Cunnilingus, Cream Pies, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation

Word Count: 1707

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

For a species that's so highly advanced compared to your own, you'd think there would be far more disunities. After all, this planet wasn't made for you. But despite this Olympic-sized hurdle, most of the Cybertronians seemed curious about you. A little human, freshly birthed compared to the universe's timeline itself, bought to Cybertron by their ventures.

It's taken a lot to get used to. But the primal urge associated with human nature seems omnipresent, as you have learned.

Sentinel Prime. The lord and master of Cybertron had his curiosity peaked. He initially took you in as a novelty, a mere collector's item to show off as a display of acceptingness between Cybertronians and Humans—a symbiotic relationship between two species.

At least, that's what he tells them. Yet another lie for him to cover up for the masses.

"You're such a fucking sellout, Sentinel."

A liar he may be, but his trembling form and the whines of your name speak truthfully. And with all the queries of your purpose on this planet, one thing is sure.

Sentinel Prime can't get enough of human nature.

And you're determined to squeeze every last drop of that precious information.

In the lavish and very private penthouse of his tower overlooking Iacon City, Sentinel Prime kneels before you on the berth. Though at eye level, the balance of power remains clear. Ropes of golden silk tie his arms behind his back, connecting to the ones adorning his thighs, keeping them embarrassingly wide open. He can't count how often he's been in this position before, but he learns something new about your little fleshy body each time.

"Yeah, I know." Sentinel wriggles against the ropes despite having no intention of escaping from them, "B-But I have an image to upkeep, you know that."

"Oh, an image! I see," Gripping the kibble on his chin, you pull him closer, to which he flinches, "Because the only image I see is you popping a boner over a little fleshy like me. Now, wouldn't that cause a stir, hm?"

Sentinel grits his dentae, his faceplates heating up at the proximity. He says nothing, knowing that he could dig himself a deeper hole. But he's already too deep, so much so that he could be tried in court for inappropriate relations with organic species. Or worse, he could have the title of 'Prime' stripped away from him.

But he can't deny it. He's so turned on by your soft skin pressing against him that it almost makes him sob, spike standing erect right in front of you. Deliciously throbbing and angry, ripe for your taking.

"On your back, I mean it." You push against his chassis, and he flops backward, grunting as the winds knocked out of him. Your little form climbs atop him, but you don't stop at his spike. You keep climbing until you're standing on his chassis.

"Wh- What are you doing?" Sentinel questions, his voice strained. He watches as you straddle his face and push your cunt against his intake, a pleasant surprise to Sentinel.

"I'm gonna put that lying tongue of yours to good use," You moan, wiggling your hips against his glossa, "Ever tasted human pussy before? Because it's about time you did."

Sentinel grunts as you grind your hips against his face. Though tiny, you're still enough to take his breath away. The sweet, earthly, deliciously human scent fills his olfactory sensors, and he dives in with the first lap at your folds. It's new to him, soft and plush against his glossa. He doesn't even need a second taste to confirm that he's already addicted.

A soft gasp leaves you as Sentinel essentially makes out with your pussy, moving from opened-mouthed kisses to flicks at your clit. You sit down further on him, causing his glossa to push into you forcefully. The ridges massage along your walls and make you see stars, filling you perfectly, making it hard to believe you had no trouble taking his spike. But you won't tell him that. It's far too much fun to humiliate him and make him putty between your thighs instead.

"Is that the best you can do, Sentinel?"

The Prime whines into your flesh as his glossa works double time, "Pfflease..." He takes a breath before he laps at your clit again, rubbing and grinding with the help of your hips.

"What was that? I can't hear you." Your dominant side gets the better of you, and you deviously shift your hips up, hovering just shy above his saturated dermas, "Say it again."

"Please- I can't- I need you to fuck me-" Sentinel whimpers, wincing as his spike painfully throbs. It's all getting too much for poor Sentinel, "I need your valve-" He cranes his neck in a poor attempt to lick at you once again but whines when you pull away from him entirely.

"I can't believe you, Sentinel. You can hardly wait five minutes? How disappointing." You lean closer, "But I won't say no. I hope your spike can perform better than that tongue of yours."

You slide back down his frame, smiling at Sentinel's soft, frustrative growls. You straddle him again, his spike standing tall between your thighs. It only reaches past your navel, and a thought occurs as you gaze upon the pretty biolights.

He must have the smallest one on Cybertron; no wonder his ego's so big.

And no wonder he prefers to fuck a human and keep it a secret.

"You're so hard for me, Sentinel, aren't you?"

"Y-Yes. Only you." Sentinel heaves his chest, still worked up from eating you out. He watches tentatively as you line yourself up, the weeping tip of his spike just pressing against the threshold. He arches his back against the restraints as his spike is engulfed in your heat, biting back a sob of relief.

"Good," You press your hips down agonisingly slow, hands pressed against his abdomen for support, "Keep still, or I won't let you finish."

You sink the rest of the way, planting your ass on his pelvis. The unrelenting fullness causes a shaky breath to whistle past your lips, but you suppress a moan. Sentinel whines, already trembling against the ropes. He tries to roll his hips up into you, but a taut squeeze of your walls halts him in his tracks.

"Do you not listen? I said stay still." You growl through your teeth. Rolling your hips forward, you create a rhythm that has Sentinel crying out. He has no control, not with his servos tied behind him, nothing to grab onto as you start to bounce ruthlessly on his throbbing spike. His helm lulls back in pleasure and hopelessness as he's forced inside you again and again.

"Ah- Ah!! Y-Y/n! I'm gonna-" Sentinel mewls, clenching his optics shut, his chest heaving once again on the cusp of an embarrassingly early overload.

You keep bouncing despite your breathing becoming laboured, fueled by the desire to see Sentinel come undone and beg for your mercy, "Yeah? You gonna cum, Sentinel? Show me how much- guh- how much you love human pussy?"

"Y-Yes! Oh, Primus yes-" Sentinel gasps, arching his back struts as you slam down on his spike, "I love it- ohhn- I love your organic valve so much-"

A raw, sinful cry wracks his frame, shuddering as he pumps his transfluids into you. The warm, suspiciously glowing fluid leaks and spurts out, causing a shiver down your spine.

"My oh my, Sentinel, that was fast." You moan softly, slowly circling your hips, "Not only are you pathetic, but you're pathetic and don't last long in bed."

Sentinel whines wearily at the extra stimulation, "Sorry- nghh- I just can't help it- AHhn!-"

You don't let him finish his sentence. Instead, you lift your hips and slam your hips back down, sending transfluids all over his pelvis. You work yourself up to a back-breaking rhythm, determined to keep your promise to make him beg for mercy. You watch in fascination as Sentinel starts to thrash against the restraints, and how he bares his dentae at you, how that disgustingly handsome face belonging to a mech at your mercy begins to contort in overwhelming pleasure.

"F-Fuck, Sentinel-" Double entendre. You keep going, fingers digging into his hip plating to prevent being thrown off. The wet, sloppy noises of metal meeting flesh spark a deep heat within the pits of your stomach.

He keeps thrashing against you as he cries and howls your name, his hips pressing into the berth to try and escape the overstimulation. He tries to form words, but all that leaves him is an incoherent babble of pleads and whines for you to stop. He overloads again, crying and tugging at the restraints, another gush of warmth spilling into you.

"C'mon, Sentinel-" You moan, your thighs trembling from the workout of holding the mech down. Your cunt aches at the prolonged stretch, but you're determined once again to draw one last overload from him. You reach down and start to circle your clit, hoping to breach your orgasm, "G-Gimme one more, and I'll stop."

"P-Primus below-" Sentinel clenches his optics shut as your pussy strangles his spike, his hips stuttering. The tightness of your walls lurches him forward as he shoots another load into you.

"Fuck yes!" You give him a show of your own and arch your back, finally reaching your orgasm. You cry out and clench down, causing more trans fluid to spill out from you. A soft, exhausted whine leaves you once you're left in the afterglow.

What a mess. Layers of sticky trans fluid coat your thighs and Sentinels' pelvis, the dull throbbing of an overworked spike still seated inside you. It's a horrific sight to walk in on if anyone were to, but maybe they should, if only to expose Sentinel for the filthy fleshy fucker he is.

Looking up, you're met with a shamelessly erotic mess of the Prime. His faceplates painted blue, his glossa lulling out of his intake, the heavy heaving of his chest plates—the face of a liar couldn't be more irresistible.

You chuckle to yourself, whipping out a small data pad and snapping a picture.

"How's that for an image, Sentinel?"

[nickeverdeen]

I have a request for Caitlyn x fem reader angst where reader and Caitlyn were in a relationship before Caitlyn went to Zaun but then she just up and left for that mission and then she just suddenly comes back and with Vi and reader is upset

Left Behind | Caitlyn Kiramman x fem!reader

Pairings: Caitlyn x reader (romantic), Vi x reader (strangers), Vi x Caitlyn (either lovers or platonic)

Type of fic: Angst, No Comfort

Warnings: Arguments, Break-up, Tiny Toxic Behaivor, A Bit Of A Jealousy mentioned

Summary: When Caitlyn decided to one day just get up and leave for a mission without so much as a note to explain you waited - for weeks, for months - but then she just decides to show up and act as if nothing happened while casually bringing Vi? Yeah, you’re not letting her get that.

—————————

The last time you saw Caitlyn Kiramman, she was yours.

She had kissed you softly, held you close, whispered promises in the quiet safety of your shared bed. Told you she’d always come back to you, that nothing in this world could take her away.

Then she left.

No warning. No explanation. Just gone.

And for weeks—months—you waited.

Waited for a letter, a message, anything to tell you where she was. If she was alive.

But silence was the only answer you ever got.

So, eventually, you stopped waiting.

Piltover was quiet tonight. The streets, washed in dim lantern light, felt emptier than usual. Or maybe it was just you who felt empty.

You had been fine. You had learned to live without Caitlyn, had forced yourself to move forward even when it felt impossible.

But then, out of nowhere—like some cruel twist of fate—she returned.

She was standing outside the Enforcer barracks when you first saw her again, her uniform worn, her face thinner, her blue eyes sharper than before.

And she wasn’t alone.

Vi stood beside her. Close. Familiar. And in that moment, your stomach twisted in a way that made it hard to breathe.

You told yourself you didn’t care. That she had left, and you had moved on.

But now, standing at the threshold of her family’s estate, your hands clenched into fists at your sides, you realized just how much of a lie that was.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked.

It only took a few seconds before the door opened, and there she was—Caitlyn Kiramman, in the flesh, staring at you like she had seen a ghost.

“…You’re here,” she breathed.

Your chest ached at the way she said it, like she hadn’t expected you to be.

Like she thought she could just walk back into this city, into her old life, and you wouldn’t be here to remind her of what she left behind.

Your jaw tightened. “No thanks to you.”

Caitlyn flinched. She had the decency to look guilty, at least. “I—”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, stepping inside before she could say something that would make you more angry. “Just tell me why.”

Caitlyn swallowed. “I had to go. It wasn’t safe—”

“You left me, Caitlyn. Without a word. Do you have any idea what that did to me?” Your voice rose a bit, but you forced yourself to meet her gaze.

She looked away.

That was answer enough.

Your breath came out shaky, the months of heartbreak, of anger, of missing her all bubbling to the surface. “And now you’re back. Just like that. Like nothing happened.”

“It’s not like that,” Caitlyn said quickly.

You scoffed. “No? Then tell me, Cait. Tell me what it is like. Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you left, found someone new, and now you expect me to just—”

“It’s not like that,” Caitlyn said again, more desperate this time.

You shook your head. “I saw you with her.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched. “Vi?”

The name burned in your throat. “She’s the reason, isn’t she? She’s why you left.”

“No,” Caitlyn said firmly. “I left because I had to. Because I thought I was protecting you. I didn’t—” She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t think it would take this long.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “Right. So I was just supposed to wait? Put my life on hold until you decided to come back?”

Caitlyn’s expression crumbled. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

You wanted to believe that.

But the hurt was still there, raw and aching, a wound she had left open for too long.

You shook your head, stepping back toward the door. “I don’t know if I can do this, Cait.”

Panic flashed across her face. “Please.”

You hesitated.

And for a moment, you could almost pretend this was before. That she had never left. That she was still yours.

But the past wasn’t something you could change.

You turned away. “Goodbye, Caitlyn.”

This time, you were the one walking away.

[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

I want to be the only one she dreams of.

Synopsis: In a quiet apartment far from the stage lights, a tired idol seeks comfort in the one person who’s always been her home. Karina, adored by millions, skips the afterparty and escapes the limelight to curl up next to her best friend—a struggling writer whose life couldn’t be more different. But in this quiet moment, shoulder to shoulder, hearts brushing, unspoken feelings rise to the surface. Maybe friendship was never all it was meant to be. Maybe, just maybe, she’s not dreaming of stages anymore—maybe she’s dreaming of you.

Word Count: 1,108

Karina? Karina! Every head turns when she’s on stage. A star, through and through. Sold-out concerts, viral posts, and every brand she touches turns to gold. She’s magnetic—beautiful, poised, untouchable.

And you? Just an author, working from home. Some days wondering if you should chase a job or hold out for that one business deal. Still, you write because you love it. You stay in your little world—quiet, unnoticed.

But Karina always notices you.

She’s your best friend, and always has been. Despite her fame, she never forgets to bring you little things from every city—local snacks, rare merch, signed albums. Your shelves are filled with her face. Your home, a shrine only someone like you would understand.

Tonight, after her final encore, she didn’t linger on stage. No afterparty. No cameras. Just a quick change into oversized clothes, hoodie pulled low, cap and mask hiding the face everyone worshipped.

You were in the middle of finishing a piece—fingers tapping, back aching, staring at the blinking cursor like it owed you something—when your phone buzzed.

“hey im coming in an hour or two” Karina messaged from a different number.

You glanced at it, barely blinking. Normal. She always dropped by when she could. You shrugged, thumbed out a quick

“ok be safe.”

And got back to staring at your draft, still stuck on what made a plot good instead of just passable.

Two hours passed. You were still in the same spot. Same hoodie. Same blank doc. Different position.

The knock came soft, just three taps. You didn’t move right away, still half-leaning into your laptop, the glow of your screen casting long shadows across your living room. You already knew who it was.

When you opened the door, there she was—Karina. Hoodie zipped up, face mostly hidden beneath a cap, her posture loose and heavy with exhaustion. Still, she gave you that small tired smile, the kind that tugged at your chest more than it should.

“Yo,” you greeted casually, stepping aside. “Lemme guess. Just finished the concert?”

She nodded, her voice light but rough around the edges. “Yeah… did you watch?”

You smirked as you closed the door behind her. “Yeah, I caught the livestream. On your channel. You did well, as usual.”

Karina let out a breath, half a laugh, and tossed her bag down by the couch before falling onto it with a dramatic sigh. “I’m so tired.”

You followed her into the living room, laptop forgotten for now. On the coffee table sat an assortment of snacks—her favorites. The kind she always reached for when she crashed at your place after a long day. Drinks too, already chilled. You didn’t say anything, but her eyes landed on them the moment she sat up.

“Wait… you set this up?”

You played it off with a shrug, flopping onto the couch beside her. “I figured you’d be worn out. Three concerts in, what, a week and a half?”

She blinked at you for a second before grinning. “You never do this.”

“Guess I’m learning,” you mumbled.

Karina didn’t reply at first. Instead, she shifted, leaned a little closer, and without warning, rested her head gently on your shoulder. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And it was—kind of. She’d done this before. Dozens of times. When she was still a trainee. When she came back after long shoots. When she wanted to feel human again.

But this time… something felt different.

You froze for a split second. Her hair brushed your cheek, silky soft and warm, carrying that faint floral scent she always wore. Her skin was cool from the night air, but you could feel her warmth sinking into you the longer she stayed like that.

“Thanks,” she murmured, eyes closed now. “You always know what I need.”

Your heart tripped over itself, just for a beat.

“Yeah,” you whispered back, staring ahead so she wouldn’t see the way your ears were starting to turn red. “I got you.”

She let out a content sigh, pressing her head a little deeper into the crook of your neck. “Mmm… your hoodie smells nice. Just like you.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Not when her voice dipped so low. Not when your brain was screaming that this wasn’t just best friend territory anymore.

You risked a glance at her. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked slowly, lips parted just a little, skin glowing softly in the dim light of your apartment.

Beautiful. Effortlessly so. And she was here, pressed against you, while the rest of the world only got to watch her from afar.

You swallowed hard, heart beating louder than any concert crowd. Because you knew—no matter how casual she made it look, this meant something. Or maybe you just wanted it to mean something.

But for now, you didn’t move. You let her rest. Let yourself feel every inch of her warmth against yours.

And in the quiet, between your beating heart and her soft breathing, you thought:

I’m living everyone’s dream… but I want to be the only one she dreams of.

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 1

Masterlist - Part 2

A light zap of electricity made your cheek tingle, urging you awake. Sleepily, you opened your eyes and were greeted with a rundown room with no furniture. The strange sight woke you up immediately and you sat up.

What the hell? This isn't your home, fuck, this doesn't even look like somewhere in your city!

As you surveyed the surroundings with more urgency, thoughts of the day before came to mind.

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

You were only supposed to drop off the money from the scams to your boss. Your forte wasn't fighting yet when you entered the rundown building, there was tension in the air.

Your boss glowered at the woman across the room. Before you could even ask one of your coworkers what's happening, guns were drawn. In less than 5 seconds the building became a mess of fighting, gun shots, and noise.

Trained instincts of running kicked in and you were already slipping past brawls trying to get to the nearest exit. The money was already dropped off, your boss couldn't hold shit against you.

Just as you got close to the window, a lanky man shoved you. You only stumbled back and raised your fists. You didn't like to fight but after years of living less than legal, you've learned how to fight long enough to escape.

In 10 minutes you were already walking down the sidewalk with bloody knuckles and a bruised foot. The other guy must be worse since you threw him into the window before escaping.

It's just your luck that a police car pulls up beside you. Stopping, you flash a smile to the officer as he rolls down the window.

"Sorry to bother you so late but I noticed that you're a little hurt. Do you need me to bring you to a hospital?"

What he's really asking is what got you hurt, but you keep your cool and answer with cheeriness.

"It's really nothing. I was just at the bar down the street with a friend when some people started getting rowdy. They got kicked out before anyone could really get hurt but I still got a little banged up."

You point to the bar that you passed by that's in full swing. The officer eyes you for a moment before asking a follow-up question.

"And what about your friend? Where are they, are they okay?"

Your tone drops a little as you reply. "Their wonderful partner picked them up so I left. I mean it's not like I have any lover to pick me up. What can a poor single person like me do?"

The officer instantly becomes bored and says a quick goodbye before driving off. You roll your eyes at the predictable action and continue walking home. Lying has become a natural habit for you and you've become damn good at it.

You finally get home to your shitty studio apartment in the seedy part of the city. Locking the door, you trudge to your computer as you ignore the screams from other apartments. You boot it up and start eating the cheap fast food you picked up.

First you check on the scam ads you posted to see which poor sucker fell for it. You forward the card information to another coworker and consider yourself done with work for the day.

Were you a bad person for being a scam artist? Yeah. Did you wish that you could have a normal job that doesn't involve hurting people? Hell yeah. Have you ever been able to? Nope.

You click the little Paimon app to run Genshin to distract yourself from those meaningless thoughts. You've been stuck in those loops long enough to know it's useless to dwell on them.

The mindless commissions are just what you need to relax. You smile at the sight of Bennett's idle before farming for the most annoying materials; Handguards.

You finish combing through most of the Inazuma islands before teleporting to Seirai Island. The statue of the seven heals your party from any damage that occurred.

Leaning back in your chair, you stretched your arms, sighing as the tension is released from your body. Deciding to turn in for the night, you exit out of Genshin.

Well, you tried at least.

No matter how many times you clicked, it just wouldn't exit. Brushing it off as a bug, you just shut down the device.

Instead of shutting down, the screen showed the doors to Celestia. With no prompt, the doors opened and the white flash shined into your eyes.

Cringing at the harsh light you waited for it to stop.

It didn't.

It got brighter and brighter before it completely enveloped you.

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

Feeling more awake after remembering, you look around the house. Other than the creaky bed you were on, nothing else was in the house. You stand up and nearly trip over a bag at your feet.

Opening it, you find nothing but you decide to take it just in case. That's when you notice that your knuckles are completely healed. No blood, bandages or pain.

You check your body and see that although scars have remained, all your minor cuts and bruises have healed without a trace. Feeling creeped out you try to leave the house. The nearly broken door takes a good amount of strength to push open but you do and stumble out.

The sight of purple thundering skies, floating rocks, and a statue of the seven shocks you. You stumble on the squeaky plants and hard cobblestone as you get closer to the edge.

White trees with purple leaves, blue grass and Naku Weed surround the ground. It's the same area where you tried to log off. There was no way you were in Genshin Impact; Shit like this only happens in fiction.

Hallucination, death, dream, or pulled into a fictional world. Your mind whirls those four possibilities. You stomp on what should have been your bruised foot. It's painful, but not as much as a bruised foot.

With death and dream off the list you walk to the small tree with purple leaves. An Otogi tree, your mind helpfully supplies. You press a hand against the bark and feel the leaves carefully. The sensation is too real and you're too steady to be hallucinating.

You must really be in Tevyat. You were never attached to Earth but being suddenly thrust here is still a bit jarring. You look at the statue of the seven and contemplate your next decision.

From what you remember, anyone who isn't from Teyvat should be allowed to take elemental power from the statue. Biting your lip you approach the statue and place a hand on the gold accessories.

You marvel at how the statue glows at your presence but when you look at your hands, you feel no difference. It seems you wouldn't be a main character in this world either.

Shrugging it off, the excitement of actually being in Teyvat started to well up inside you. You walk down the desecrated dirt and cobblestone path as you admire Seirai Island.

While walking you freeze at the sight of two Fatui soldiers at a camp. You could fight people and escape, but Fatui soldiers? Fuck no. You didn't plan to die this fast.

You sneak along the houses to your left all while trying to remember Seirai's layout. If you wanted to survive in this world, you would need to get to civilization. You needed a boat cause there was no way in hell you were swimming in water that could be struck with lightning at any moment.

You follow the left path that seems to lead to the shore. Fuck, a mirror maiden is walking the same path right towards your direction. With some fast thinking and only a small dose of panic, you scale the rocks on your right.

They were thankfully small enough that your minor skills could be utilized well enough. Breathing heavily, you lay down on the soft blue grass. You close your eyes and open them swiftly at something tingly but smooth on your nose.

It's an electro Crystalfly. Purple and beautiful. You lay there mesmerized before it flies off gently. You stand up in a daze and struggle not to blindly follow it.

You walk along the cliff's edge while being careful not to fall. You can't risk going onto the grass in fear of a spector chasing you. Yet another thing that can end your new life.

Once far away enough from the mirror maiden, you slowly climb down and feel relieved at not breaking a bone. The path splits into two and you contemplate which one would lead to the Waverider.

Logically you know the chance of the waverider working for you was small, but the chance of you finding an intact boat was even smaller. Your train of thought is broken by the sounds of machines whirring from the right path.

You curse yourself and start sprinting down the left path to get away. Forgetting the existence of Ruin Sentinels almost cost you your life, but due to your panic, you almost sprinted straight into a different Ruin Sentinel.

Skidding to a stop, you hastily walk around it while sweating bullets. Thankfully it didn't notice you and you praise your good luck. You walk more alert to the waverider but stop at the teleport waypoint.

Out of simple curiosity, you touch the teleport structure. It glows similar to how it did in the game. But instead of red turning blue, the blue turned gold.

A smile forms on your face as your mind races with the possibilities that this could mean. Excitedly, you run to the waverider and touch it. Its blue turns gold and a boat is summoned onto the water.

It's not the same boat as the travelers, in fact you would even say it's better. Climbing into your boat you marvel at how much space it has. There is a small screen in the middle with a handprint.

There is no steering wheel or any other controls. You put your hand on it and say the first island that comes to mind. "Take me to Kannazuka Island."

The boat begins to move and you sit down on the couch. The whole boat feels luxurious to the point where you feel out of place; as if you're the sole piece of dirt on it.

But you don't have to be trash anymore. This world is kinder to people that couldn't finish school or can't stay in one spot. You wanted to try a normal job, maybe set up a stall or shop. Work as a normal, legal worker, or even become an adventurer. If reckless Pallas could do it, surely you could.

No more lying, no more crime.

The boat stops and you get off as you try to remember which part of the island you stopped at. There's a waverider and a teleport waypoint close together. That's on the right side of the Tatarasuna also known as the place where Kunikuzushi died and became Scaramouche.

After tapping both the waverider and teleport waypoint, you walk closer to the main part of the island. You remember farming this place for the handguards which explains why there is no Nobushi.

After passing the broken down ship part, you spot a tree with lavender melon. Excitedly and with hunger you get close and pick the lowest hanging fruit.

It's juicy and unlike any fruit you've eaten before. Which isn't a lot since fruit is expansive. You stroll down the shore as you finish the fruit.

You recognize the area on the left as a place where a quest had a fight. Walking on it you smile at seeing it in person. It's really amazing how you're actually here. And holy shit is that Ei?

The archway made of rock that leads into Tatarasune has Ei standing right there. You freeze and your breathing slows down as you try not to be noticed.

Ei was a complex character meaning that she will cause a lot of trouble for the peaceful and lawful existence you planned to live here.

As you try to walk away casually you hear her mutter something interesting.

"I could have sworn I felt their presence somewhere here."

Ei locks eyes with you making you freeze. You should greet her with her long ass title but there was no way you remembered that. Instead you give a small bow and speak politely.

"Please forgive my intrusion. I hope I haven't-"

"How dare you."

"I'm sorry wha-"

"Who are you? Which nation are you from? How dare you show such disrespect toward Their Holiness?!"

Her glare is firm and her voice grows louder. Gaping at the sudden hostility, you take a step back when she starts to pull out her Musou-no-something.

Ei's words are barely registered in your brain as you scramble for a way to escape.

"Someone with the same face as the creator is an anomaly. No one has ever been born with their face yet you, a mere human mortal, has it. I shall sacrifice you to them for impersonating the creator's image."

It's like her one track mind as a soldier has taken over Ei again. You yell the first thing that comes to mind that can help you escape while pointing behind her.

"OH MY GOD, IS THAT MAKOTO YOUR TWIN SISTER?!"

Ei freezes and immediately whips her head to look behind her. You don't hesitate to book it back to the boat.

'Just keep running, just keep running.' You sing frantically to yourself as you hear Ei chase after you. You yelp in pain when lightning starts striking your heels with every step.

She's toying with you, you realize. She wants to know how you could possibly know about her sister. She won't kill you yet but you know she won't hesitate to harm you severely.

The boat comes into view and you jump into it. The water that you splashed in, in your hurry makes your feet hurt more.

"Do you think that boat can protect you from me?"

You sit on the floor and try to think up a solution but the pain coursing through your body is hindering you. But you already know that you can't drive the boat or else she'll destroy it.

"Tell me how you know her name. How do you know her connection to me? How much more do you know about us?"

None of your regular tactics can work on her, not without risking death. You look at your lap for some kind of solution and notice your hands glowing. A small plan begins to form and instead you answer her with a distraction.

"Do you truly believe that I'm the only person alive that knows about her?"

Ei goes silent and you take advantage of the time to try to figure out what's happening with your hands. As much as you hope you gained elemental powers, you doubt that it can actually help you when an archon is trying to harm you.

You feel like spiderman as you make various hand gestures with your hands trying to figure out what the deal is with the glowing. It's the simple gesture of putting your hands together and pulling them apart that makes the glowing leave your hands and form a small screen.

"Did Celestia send you down here? Did you have a mission from them to use the Creator's form to dig up information?"

As the screen glows white and shows the Genshin Impact logo, your breath hitches. Your only hope is to let Ei draw her own conclusions from your answers as you hope your new power can help you.

"Celestia, huh? If Celestia themself took on the form of the Creator for their plans, do you think they would succeed?"

Thunder strikes louder after you say that. The logo leaves and shows the traveler on the beach in Mondstadt. You don't think about the weirdness of that before teleporting Lumine to where you are at.

"What are you implying-"

Ei's words are cut off as the sound of teleporting rings through your ears unlike the game audio has ever done before. On the screen the traveler stands next to a gold teleport waypoint with Ei nowhere to be seen. You smile at the implication.

You look out the boat and don't see Lumine there. You look back at the screen only to find it gone. You make the gesture and the screen reappears. It's only when you look away from the teleport waypoint that the screen finally loads.

Lumine is still standing next to the gold teleport waypoint. After teleporting her back to the beach you close the screen. With the Ei threat somewhat subdued, you feel safe enough to collapse on the couch.

Lazily you tell the ship to sail to Narukami Island, Ei would still come after you. Anywhere is better than your present location. An idea forms in your mind and you clarify. "Bring me to Amakane Island."

Your mind processes the information of a Creator, your resemblance, the screen, and new threats. The first step is clear as day. The little shop on Amakane Island that sells masks is your first stop.

Hello anybody that reads this. I have started another fic series. Again. There is a large chance that I'll get burnt out and not finish it. But I hope you enjoyed this. The next chapter should have what I really wanted to talk about which is Oracle!Reader.

Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl [Edit: This chapter has been updated by my dear editor on 8/19/23]

[storiesaplenty]

The Walking Dead Masterlist

Part 1

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy though.

Warnings: a bit of swearing

Requested by no one

WC: 791

©️ storiesaplenty 2025: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work. All readers are female, unless stated otherwise.

You grew up with Daryl, but on the opposite sides of town. You always had a crush on him. You two drift apart over the years, but meet up years later during the apocalypse.

Imagine being a rich girl growing up in the same small town that the Dixon family lived in.

You went to school with Daryl, always having a thing for the shy boy, with the rambunctious older brother, who was always in and out of juvie.

You knew of his home life, with his mother dying in a fire when he was young. His father who was hardly in his life, and when he was around, he just beat the living crap out of Daryl and Merle.

You would invite Daryl to your birthday parties, but he only showed up to one when you were young.

He didn't bring a gift from the store, but he cut up some flowers from old Mrs. Crocker's front yard, and they were by far your favourite gift you ever got that year.

From then on, Daryl would refer you to as Flower when it was just the two of you.

Then when you hit middle school, he started to act more and more like Merle. Always getting into trouble.

Missing school, and that went on even through high school, until one day he just stopped showing up.

You were highly disappointed when he finally stopped showing up, but you kept busy with your afterschool actives, which your family found odd.

You grew up learning to shoot with your father, as he took you to the gun range the moment he could, but you loved archery, and found it better than the gun range.

You learned how to track animals, and people. You learned how to build a fire and how to maintain the fire.

Your family found this weird, but you enjoyed being outdoor instead of the watchful eye of your overbearing parents.

You went to school to be a nurse, and you graduated with honours.

Your father expected you to take over the family business, and your mother expected you to also settle down and start a family, and give them as many grandchildren you possibly could.

But you didn't want that life, and you told them that.

They cut you off and kicked you out of your family home, but what they didn't know was that you have been saving up whenever you could.

Also that you already had access to the inheritance your great-aunt left you. So you didn't have to worry.

Your life was good, but you would randomly think about Daryl, and wonder how he was doing.

He always believed he didn't deserve a good life due to his family name, but you used to tell him how silly that was.

"Yeah, well your last name is well respected in this town, Flower." He would mumble to you, making your heart ache for him.

You thought about looking him up, but always stopped before making that call, not knowing how he would take you looking him up all these years later.

So you went on with your life, until it all changed.

Then the world ended.

You were lucky not to be working at the hospital when the military showed up and killed all your co-workers and all the living patients.

You were able to escape the city before the bombs dropped, already long gone by then. Meeting up with other survivors trying to find a safe place.

But that seemed almost impossible, with the dead walking around, and then the people who did not have the best intentions.

Then your camp got overrun, and you tried to save as many people as you could, but there was just too many of the dead, almost like a herd.

You were hunting some animals to take back to the small cabin that you found, that you boarded up, and made as safe as possible, after clearing out the few walkers that you found in there.

When you went back to your cabin, you found that it was not empty.

You held up your gun, and cocked it, making the people in the room turn around.

You noticed a the women and children.

The men who stood in front of them, ready to fight for their loved ones.

"We are just passing through, and needed a break for my wife. We mean no harm." The leader of the group said, as he stepped aside to show his pregnant wife.

"You can stay tonight, as there is a storm coming in."

You heard someone running up behind you, and you turned, wondering if you made a mistake lowering your guard for even once second.

"Holy shit. Flower, is that you?"

In front of you, there was the man who has invaded your dreams and your thoughts for most of your life.

"Daryl Dixon, I should have known you would still be alive."

Part 2

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

hey so i finally wrote more witch au!

enjoy, friends!! though it's significantly shorter than the first part

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,004 | rated: T

Mama thinks that Steve’s had a love spell on him this whole time.

“Since when?” He’d asked.

“I don’t know, my dear, maybe since before you were even born.”

“What?! How?! I thought you said there was no such thing as love spells!” He knows that’s not true.

“There are none that are worth the pain.” she repeats, trying to placate him.

“Yeah, well.” Steve huffs, dropping his hands to his hips and heaving a sigh.

“But there are some that are rumored to be true love spells, soulmate spells.” She continues on when she sees the look on his face. “Rumored, Steven, only ever rumors.”

“Okay, so what do the rumors have to say about them?”

“Every spell like that I’ve ever heard of of this nature is specific to each caster.”

“So I’ve had this spell on me for possibly my whole life, and there’s no way to know anything about it or about the caster.”

“...I’m sorry, honey.”

“Maybe there are clues in the words you have.” Robin cuts in, reaching for the notepad and sliding it in front of her.

Steve huffs, “I need to know the whole thing; there’s definitely words missing.”

“Should you eat more bread?” Robin asks, already sliding the previously abandoned plate of bread towards him.

“You shouldn’t overwhelm yourself.” Mama says, pushing the plate back. “We don’t know if there’s a trigger to the spell, or if you and the caster’s paths will just cross one day, maybe they don’t even know they cast it.”

Steve blinks at her. “So I have a true love and they might not even want me?”

“No!” Robin belts out immediately.

“No, of course not,” Mama says, continuing on. “The one known thing about any spell like this is that they only work on those who are receptive to it.”

“So some weirdo can’t put you under their spell?”

“Yes, exactly Robin; Steve, whatever this is, whoever this was, they love you with all that they are. And you them.”

“I don’t even know who it is! How can I?”

Mama doesn’t have an answer besides saying “Your soul must know them already.”; Their conversation was over soon after that.

Steve spends the next couple days silent and brooding. He can’t stop thinking about how he’s what, marked to love someone he doesn’t even know? How’s that fair?

It could be any random person on the street that thought he was hot, some weird old guy or a lovesick middle schooler..He only just turned 25 the day before the bread incident, but he’s saddled with this huge unknown that isn’t going to get better any time soon?

Okay, apparently not just some weirdo according to Mama, but still. Un-fucking fair all the same.

He’s also pissed that he can’t give anyone all the baked goods he’s made within that time. Each and every one of them ending up with a sour aftertaste. 

“Damn witch bullshit…” he grumbles to himself, only half serious, as he scrapes another batch of sour sugar cookies into the trash.

He’s salty, okay? Pun intended. If he hadn’t ever learned the truth about the powers over food his grandmother (and now him too, apparently) has, he could’ve just excused the batch after batch being off on bad butter, or old flour.. Something other than his mood being what’s ruining his cookies.

That’s what he’d done every other time something he’s made tasted off, now he knows it was him the whole time.

Mama comes in then, he doesn’t have to look up to know the look she’s giving him.

Steve leaves the bowl of leftover dough on the counter, mumbles out a “I gotta go.”, then tromps out the back door and into the woods behind his grandparents’ home. 

He supposes it’s good that they live just outside the city, really, having the trees to escape under like this has helped him before, and he’s hoping will help him now.

Meandering through the underbrush, he strolls along until he reaches the small clearing he’d claimed for himself when he was what, 8? 9? Doesn’t matter. It’s his spot to get away from anything he needs to.

He sits down against the big oak at the edge of the clearing and tips his head back toward the sun filtering down on him through a gap in the canopy above him. He breathes in the fresh air, focuses on the warmth hitting his face, and just exists there for a while, slipping in and out of a soft snooze.

Suddenly, he’s shocked out of his dozing by the sound of twigs snapping underfoot.

If it were coming from behind him, he’d expect it’d be Robin coming to find him here, but it’s not. It’s coming from ahead of him across the clearing.

Steve stands and presses back into the trunk of the tree, wondering if there’s bears in these woods when a person stumbles through the tree line.

The man is thin, about Steve’s age if he were to guess, and covered in dirt, his light wash overalls and his boots are caked in it. His hair is long, pulled half-back away from his face and full of bracken from the forest.

He also seems to be in a daze, staring with dark eyes at Steve with an unfathomable expression. 

It shifts soon after, though, warming into a watery smile. “I’ve come home to you.” he says, clear as day, then collapses onto the grass.

“Oh, shit!” Steve rushes forward, kneeling down beside the man and quickly checking him over for injuries. 

Steve presses his fingers to the man's pulse confirm it's still there (it is) and there don’t seem to be any bruises or breaks in his limbs, so he goes to his head, feeling quickly under the tangles in his hair for any blood, any knots.

Nothing. There’s nothing apparently outwardly wrong with him.

“Hey, hey, wake up! You gotta stay with me, man.” he says, shaking him lightly. 

The other man’s head lolls to the side and his eyes open a crack, his lips quirking up into a smile. “M’love…”

“What is your name?” Steve insists in a slow, clear voice.

Instead of answering, the man raises his hand slowly to cup Steve’s cheek. “...v’wait’d so long..” he slurs, then goes limp again, his hand dropping to his chest.

“Oh no you don’t,” Steve gets his feet under him and gathers the man up into his arms in a bridal carry. His steps falter when he feels how light the man is in his arms, how much more thin he is than how he’d looked.

Steve adjusts his hold on him, making sure not to let his head hang backward over his forearm, and rushes back toward the house.

“Mama!” he shouts as soon as he clears the treeline into the yard.

She’s at the back sliding door as soon as he is. “Steve, honey, what—”

He pushes past her, hurrying to the spare room on the first floor with her on his heels. “I found him wandering the woods, I couldn’t just–I don’t know what’s wrong with him, Mama.”

She gestures him forward to the bed, “Put him there, on top the covers,”

He does, setting him down as if he’s made of glass.

As soon as the man is out of his arms, Mama takes his place. “Nothing seems broken, but he’s so light, he needs food, he needs water, should I call 911? I don’t even know his na—” he rambles on, not even realizing he’d started to pace until his grandma stops him in his tracks.

“Steve, listen to me.” she says, pulling at his wrists gently, removing his hands from his hair. “He will be fine. Now, go get a bowl of warm water and a washcloth and come straight back here.”

He nods dazedly, stumbling backward out the doorway and spinning to the kitchen.

Steve slides to a stop on the tile floor in front of the kitchen sink at the same time Robin gets home from her classes that day.

“I have a date!”

Wait, he needs the bowl first. He scrambles to the opposite counter for the large mixing bowl Mama uses for her damn bread and fishes it out with a clatter of everything that that had been in front of it on the shelf tumbling out to the floor.

“Steve?”

Should he put soap in it?

“Steve!”

No, Mama just said ‘warm water’, not ‘warm soapy water’. He nods to himself and turns on the tap, reaching under the sink next for a washcloth.

“Steven Otis Harrington.”

“Oh, hey Robin, you’re home.” The bowl’s almost full.

“Steve.” She spins him to face her, holding tightly to his shoulders.

He tries to twist back around futilely, “The bowl–”

“Steve. What. Is. Happening.”

He blinks at her a couple times. “Robin!” He pulls her to him in a tight hug. “Holy shit, you’re not gonna believe–”

“Steve, the bowl?”

“Shit,” It’s nearly full when he shuts off the tap, so he dumps a bit out and picks it up with both hands, “C’mon, he’s this way.”

“He? Who’s he?”

“Dunno, I found him in the woods.”

“Aw, Steve, you can’t just take in any ol’ stray dog you happen to find out in the wood—-” Robin cuts herself off as they get to the bedroom door. “Ohhkay…so..not a dog.”

“He looks to be dehydrated, but I don’t think he has any injuries.” Mama says in lieu of a greeting when they return. Steve sits down on the opposite edge of the bed that she is, and carefully passes over the bowl of water without looking at her.

The stranger immediately takes in his attention. His soft features, dark brows…Steve starts to pull the bits of brush out of the man’s hair, untangling twigs, leaves, and he can already see one of those pesky prickle things twisted into the hair next to his ear.

Mama sets the bowl on the sidetable, and gets to work immediately, wiping the dirt and grime from the man’s face and arms. “Robin dear, can you grab one of those sports drinks Pa loves so much outta the fridge? And a bottle of water.”

“Of course!” she says, darting back into the kitchen.

“We’ll need to get some food in him too,”

“We should make him scones.” Steve states apropos of nothing. “With chocolate chunks.”

“Maybe after he’s a bit better, sweetie.” Mama scoffs, wringing out the washcloth. “He needs healthy fats first, butter, oatmeal, avocado, things like that.”

“I can do that!” Steve says, jumping up excitedly. His former task forgotten, he rushes out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, nearly bowling Robin over in the process.

He gets to work on simple eggs and toast for their houseguest, avoiding Mama’s lucky bread in favor of his own store-bought stuff for now, he can make him his own later. 

As he scrambles the eggs, he focuses everything in him on the stranger, on getting him better, making him healthy again. He’s not exactly quite sure how to do what Mama does, but the sour cookie dough says he’ll do it without thinking about it…kinda.

Whatever. 

All he knows is that he’s telling the fuck outta these eggs to make his love better. Make him whole again.. Make him—

Wait..

Did he just refer to the random man laid up in the other room as his love?

Is…

The fugue state he’d been in since first laying eyes on the man crackles away just long enough for him to think.

What did he say before he collapsed? "I've come home to you."?

That..sounds right....why is that so famili—

Steve's eyes leave the pan of eggs in front of him and snap immediately to the scrap of paper he'd scrambled for a few nights ago.

Is he…?

And of course, as if the words weren't already plastered permanently onto his grey matter, there they are, plain as day.

tagging those that were interested on the last part!!! @mugloversonly @kittydeadbones @maybequizas @queenie-ofthe-void @newtstabber @angeldreamsoffanfic @eyesofshinigami @sunflower-trashbaby @perseus-notjackson @kaspurrcat @quinns-shadowy-arts

also, idk if this counts for it, but one of february's songs for @steddiesongfics is work song! which is what this fic is based on! 😊😊

[estapa-edwards]

"Team Sweetheart" and "Physical Therapist" are so gorgeous I've reread them both like 10 times! They leave me so full of butterflies I am positively buzzing! May I please make a request with Jack and a girl who has no knowledge/familiarity with hockey, or any sports for that matter? Maybe just them introducing eachother to their interests/worlds as their relationship develops and it's just nice to be with someone a bit removed from what Jack's life is centered around. Idk if that makes sense please ignore this if you don't like it.

CONNECTION - J . HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x reader

word count: 2k

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Jack Hughes walked into the quiet café, eager for a break from the relentless pace of his hockey-centered life. The New Jersey Devils had been having a grueling season, and every moment off the ice felt like a precious escape. The café, tucked away in a corner of downtown Newark, had become his haven. Today, however, he was greeted by an unfamiliar face behind the counter.

“Hi, welcome to Brewed Awakening. What can I get you?” the girl asked with a warm smile. Her name tag read "Y/N."

Jack glanced at the menu, though he already knew what he wanted. “I’ll have a black coffee, please.”

Y/N nodded, her fingers flying over the buttons of the register. “Coming right up. Are you from around here?”

Jack hesitated. Despite his growing fame, he still enjoyed the anonymity of casual encounters. “Yeah, I live nearby. What about you?”

Y/N handed him his change and started preparing his coffee. “I just moved here for school. Trying to get the hang of the city and all.”

Jack smiled. “It’s a great place once you get to know it. What are you studying?”

“Art history. I know, it’s not exactly the most practical major, but it’s my passion,” she said with a slight laugh. “What about you? What do you do?”

Jack paused, unsure of how to respond. “I’m... in sports,” he said vaguely.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his hesitation. “Any particular sport?”

“Hockey,” he admitted. “I play for the New Jersey Devils.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry, I don’t really follow sports. But that sounds impressive!”

Jack chuckled. “That’s okay. It’s actually kind of refreshing to meet someone who isn’t obsessed with hockey.”

Y/N handed him his coffee. “Well, I’m glad I could provide a break from the norm. Enjoy your coffee!”

As Jack took a seat by the window, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of curiosity about Y/N. She was different from anyone he had met in a long time. He found himself looking forward to his next visit to the café.

--- --- --- 

Over the next few weeks, Jack found himself returning to Brewed Awakening more often. Each time, he and Y/N would chat for a few minutes, their conversations growing more personal with each encounter. Jack learned that Y/N was passionate about art, spending her weekends exploring museums and galleries. She, in turn, learned about Jack’s rigorous training schedule and the pressures of professional sports.

One rainy afternoon, Jack entered the café, drenched from practice. Y/N greeted him with a sympathetic smile. “Rough day?”

“Just a long one,” he replied, shaking off his wet jacket. “Do you have a break coming up? I’d love to hear more about this art thing you’re always talking about.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “Actually, I do. Give me five minutes to finish up here.”

A few minutes later, Y/N joined Jack at his table, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. “So, where should I start?”

“Tell me about your favorite artist,” Jack suggested, genuinely curious.

Y/N’s face brightened. “That’s a tough one, but I’d have to say Vincent van Gogh. His work is so emotional and raw. There’s something incredibly moving about the way he saw the world.”

Jack listened intently as Y/N described van Gogh’s turbulent life and vibrant paintings. He found himself captivated by her passion and the way she brought the art to life with her words.

“You should come to the museum with me sometime,�� Y/N said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

Jack smiled. “I’d like that. And maybe I can take you to a hockey game in return?”

Y/N laughed. “Deal. But you’ll have to explain everything to me. I know absolutely nothing about hockey.”

Jack chuckled. “I think I can manage that.”

--- --- --- 

Their first outing together was to the Newark Museum of Art. Jack was out of his element but excited to see the world through Y/N’s eyes. As they wandered through the galleries, Y/N explained the stories behind the paintings and sculptures, her voice filled with excitement and admiration.

“This is one of my favorites,” she said, stopping in front of a large, colorful painting. “It’s called ‘Starry Night Over the Rhône’ by van Gogh. Look at the way the stars and the reflections in the water create this almost dreamlike scene.”

Jack stared at the painting, trying to see it the way Y/N did. “It’s beautiful,” he said finally. “I can see why you like it so much.”

Y/N smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Art has always been a way for me to escape, to see the world differently.”

Jack nodded, understanding more than he expected. “Hockey is like that for me. When I’m on the ice, everything else fades away.”

A few days later, it was Y/N’s turn to step into Jack’s world. She had agreed to attend one of his games, despite her lack of knowledge about hockey. Jack had arranged for her to have a prime seat, and as she settled in, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

The arena was buzzing with energy, fans cheering and waving signs. Y/N watched in awe as the players took to the ice, their speed and skill mesmerizing. She spotted Jack, his focus intense as he prepared for the game.

Throughout the match, Y/N found herself on the edge of her seat, cheering along with the crowd even though she didn’t fully understand the rules. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride every time Jack made a play, his talent and dedication evident in every move.

After the game, Jack met her outside the locker room, still in his gear and grinning from ear to ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was amazing!” Y/N exclaimed. “I had no idea hockey could be so intense. You were incredible out there.”

Jack laughed, relieved that she had enjoyed herself. “I’m glad you liked it. Maybe we can make a fan out of you yet.”

Y/N smiled. “Maybe. But only if you keep coming to art galleries with me.”

“Deal,” Jack agreed, feeling a warmth spread through him. Despite their different worlds, he felt a connection with Y/N that he hadn’t felt with anyone else.

--- --- --- 

​​As the weeks turned into months, Jack and Y/N grew closer, finding comfort in their contrasting interests. They delighted in introducing each other to new experiences, each outing deepening their bond.

One sunny Saturday, Jack found himself at a local art supply store with Y/N. She was on a mission to find the perfect set of watercolors for a new project. Jack followed her through the aisles, amused by her enthusiasm.

"Do you paint?" Jack asked, curious.

"I dabble," Y/N replied with a grin. "Mostly for fun, though. It’s a great way to relax and let my mind wander."

Jack picked up a brush, twirling it between his fingers. "Maybe you could teach me sometime. I’ve never really done anything like this."

Y/N’s eyes lit up. "I’d love to! It’s really not about being perfect, just about expressing yourself."

A few days later, Y/N set up a makeshift studio in her apartment, covering the table with newspapers and setting out a variety of paints and brushes. Jack arrived, looking both excited and apprehensive.

"Ready to become the next Van Gogh?" Y/N teased, handing him a canvas.

Jack laughed. "I think that might be a stretch, but I’m ready to give it a shot."

As they painted side by side, Y/N offered gentle guidance, encouraging Jack to experiment with colors and shapes. Despite his initial uncertainty, Jack found himself enjoying the process. It was a welcome change from the structured, high-pressure world of hockey.

"You’re a natural," Y/N said, admiring Jack’s painting of a snowy landscape.

Jack shook his head with a chuckle. "I think you’re just being nice, but thanks. This is actually really fun."

Y/N smiled, pleased to see Jack so relaxed. "See? I knew you’d enjoy it."

Their relationship continued to flourish, each new experience bringing them closer together. Jack took Y/N to more games, patiently explaining the rules and strategies. Y/N, in turn, took Jack to more art exhibits and even a few art classes.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling game, Jack and Y/N found themselves at a quiet diner, sharing a plate of fries. Jack looked at Y/N, feeling a surge of gratitude.

"You know, I never thought I’d enjoy learning about art so much," Jack admitted. "But being with you has opened my eyes to so many new things."

Y/N reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "And I never thought I’d enjoy sports, but you’ve made it so much fun. It’s nice to have someone to share these experiences with."

Jack smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Despite their different backgrounds, they had found a way to connect on a profound level. It was a rare and precious thing, and Jack knew he wanted to hold onto it.

--- --- ---

As their relationship grew stronger, Jack and Y/N began to face the challenges that came with their differing worlds. Jack’s demanding schedule often kept them apart, and Y/N’s art exhibitions sometimes took her to different cities.

One evening, after a particularly grueling week of practice and games, Jack called Y/N, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I miss you," he admitted. "It feels like we haven’t seen each other in ages."

Y/N sighed, feeling the distance keenly. "I miss you too. It’s hard, but we’ll get through it. How about we plan something special for next weekend? Just us."

Jack’s spirits lifted at the thought. "That sounds perfect. Let’s go somewhere quiet, away from everything."

The following weekend, they escaped to a cabin in the woods, a peaceful retreat where they could unwind and reconnect. They spent their days hiking through the forest, cooking meals together, and sitting by the fire, talking about everything and nothing.

One evening, as they sat on the porch, watching the sunset, Jack took Y/N’s hand. "I’m really glad we’re doing this," he said softly. "It’s exactly what I needed."

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. "Me too. It’s nice to just be us, without all the noise."

As they sat in comfortable silence, Jack realized how much Y/N meant to him. She had become his anchor, a source of joy and calm in his hectic life. He knew their relationship wasn’t always easy, but he was willing to face any challenge as long as they were together.

With the hockey season winding down, Jack finally had more time to spend with Y/N. They began to talk about their future, their conversations filled with excitement and hope.

One sunny afternoon, they found themselves at a local park, lying on a blanket and watching the clouds drift by. Jack turned to Y/N, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Have you ever thought about what comes next for us?" he asked.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "I think about it all the time. I want us to keep exploring new things together, to keep supporting each other’s passions."

Jack nodded, feeling a sense of certainty. "I want that too. And I want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Your dreams are just as important as mine."

Y/N reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Jack’s face. "And I’m here for you, always. We’ll figure it out together."

As they lay there, hand in hand, Jack knew they were embarking on a new chapter of their lives. It wouldn’t always be easy, but with Y/N by his side, he felt ready for anything. They had built a strong foundation, one based on mutual respect and a genuine love for each other’s worlds. And as they looked towards the future, they knew that together, they could face whatever came their way.

[wandixx]

Greeting comrades,

I’m Wandixx, Polish history enthusiast, baby writer and budding artist. Grab your tea/coffee/juice or whatever else beverage you favor and let’s go!

I’m part of the DPxDC fandom so my fics are from here. And this list exists so we all can find anything on this blog, welcome!

Here is my AO3:

My finished fics/prompt fills:

“Blood Blossom”:

Desperate times require desperate solutions. When, after escaping GIW, Danny gets trapped by the Justice League, he has only one way to get out of it. Eating a Blood Blossom. (this one includes a sad and happy ending!)

“Contingencies”:

Danny lives with Bats and it all seems to go pretty well. Until they find his contingency plans, including ones against himself, that were just over glorified suicide to-do list. How the hell are they supposed to handle that (that’s a chunky boi, over 20k)

"(Don't) Leave me here alone" (previously "You'll never find the answers")

M'gann was having an amazing day. She met with her civilian friends, drank an amazing smoothie, saw a cute dog. For a few hours, she didn't have to think about problems that took more than 20 minutes to solve. For a few hours, she could just be Megan. And then there was a scream of a woman, mother, who thought too loud and faded too fast and M'gann wasn't enough to save her and it made her whole world come crashing down. And then Danny found her, with a soft smile and patient voice. He kneeled beside her to pick up the pieces. And shards cut them both in the process. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 AO3 link Art by Clockworkclown

“Ghost of fries and hero of cookies”

Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay Or Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of a local hero? And he looked like he needed a bad day combo anyway. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, art AO3 link

“Reverse summoning”:

It’s always DC characters summoning Danny. How about we do this another way around? Danny was desperate for a mentor and help (and some cold medicine). How- What- Why is Wonder Woman standing in his bedroom? 

“Unknown, the Wandering Hero”:

Unknown was what Justice League called the friendly anonymous hero, who kept helping them with ghosts. Only one with powers working on them. It just turns out, they were much younger than everyone expected. Danny went through a lot lately and the less people knew who he was, the less likely he was to return to the operating table.

M'gannxDanny one-shots: (their ship name is 💚Spearmint💚) (I love them so much, can you tell?)

"M'gann and curious case of disappearing cities"

M'gann was bored out of her mind and her monitoring shift with Green Arrow just started! Sure, it was important thing to learn and all, but also just a bit more interesting than drying paint. And then entire city just disappeared from the feed, so she stormed out to investiagate. And it went downhill from there

"Fight over the Mars"

Danny was ambushed by Vlad when he was minding his own buisness. It wouldn't be unusual if he didn't have a portal gun, that send them all over the world and then to the freaking Mars. And then Miss Martian showed up. Yeah, Danny was absolutely normal about that part

"Relationship reveal with ghost summoning on the side"

Young Justice fumbled a bit a mission involving the cult. Yeah, they managed to summon the wish granting ghost and only Aqualad had a way to touch her. Not the best look... But then Miss Martian said she had an idea! The idea was to summon another ghost... And it worked and he attacked the first ghost! Wait, when exactly did petnames get on the table?!

"Date in the Ghost Zone"

Danny loves Ghost Zone. Especially Far Frozen, where he found almost second family. Danny also loves M'gann, his amazing girlfriend, for who he'd go to the end of world and back. It was only fair he introduced one to another.

"Relationship reveal with a side of mind-control (or really the other way around)"

M'gann didn't need to be a psychic to see that something was wrong. She didn't need to be one of Phantom's closest friends and know that whatever was going on was against his basic principles. She maybe even didn't need to be his girlfriend, with added bonus of being intimitely familiar with his eyes, which were decidedly never red. Team was none of it, of course, so they assumed it was a villain attack. M'gann was all of that, so she could help.

Actively posted fics:

"GIW made a lot of mistakes and the biggest one was going against Young Justice" (may change hah)

Young Justice wanted a chill afternoon for once, hanging out at amusment park. And then, Danny was attacked by some freaks in white suits. Well, it seems there are villains to make fun of and... did somone mention ✨an evil lab✨? part 1, part 2

"There is only so much you can do for the dead"

Phantom asked for a small favour from the Team. Just one room, for one day. Easy enough. The room he planned to spent his Death Day in. Nobody was quite ready for that. part 1, part 2

"Count the freckles, connect them like the stars"

Five time Danny found and drew constellations from M'gann's freckles and one time she did that for him Virgo (part 1), Pisces (part 2)

Stuff that I shared snippets of/will get updated maybe some day:

"Danny and Wally are chaos incarnate"

"Seriously chaotic fashion misadventures" (Dani x Damian little fluff)

"Danny, the Young Justice member" random ideas part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Mr. J'onzz meet ghost and a half

Christmas in Mount Justice

The stuff I have somewhere on paper and would love to share if asked.

Make yourself at home, and I hope you’ll like it here!

[bleedingichorhearts]

Hi Ichor,

I would like to request something about your World Eater, Spartak (he's my favourite of your boys). It doesn't have to be a story, it could be headcanons you have for Spartak (SFW or NSFW). Here's a few questions that might give you some ideas:

So when 'reader' left Spartak, where did she go? How did they 'escape'? Did she go walk, drive, plane? How far did she manage to go and how long did it take for Spartak to find her. Clearly she was afraid of him. Did she find a city to live in? Did another space marine (or the young Night Lord) find her to live with or live nearby her, who also may or may not have his eyes on her too?

"OMG HIII!!! Curious about Spartak, eh? More so the 'reader,' but I don't blame you for the details. Details are good. I’m put this as a lil’ talk and a lil’ short story! :D" - Ichor

“Anything Done Is Going To Be Prior Of The Story.”

“@kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.”

“+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @marcela2000.” - Tagged

TW / Yandere, Hint Of Death.

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°|

Where did reader go I cannot really answer this one without spoiling too much. The best I can give you is somewhere where there isn’t a lot of other Astartes. Yet, you would think you would want to be in an area full of Marines, huh? Yeah, not you.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

How did they escape? Did they walk, drive, plane: They have escaped plenty of times by various ways: bus, running, taxi, hitchhiking… you name it.

One time, you were simply waiting for a bus. You form a bit shivering as you try to cuddle up into yourself from the midnight cold that bites at you through your clothing. You didn't have the best clothing before. You were... inexperienced on trying to ghost your own Astartes'. Not truly knowing the honesty of what those being could do until you find yourself experiencing it yourself. At least in very mild forms.

The hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stand up, and you're not sure if it was just because of the cold or not. Your eyes glancing up to look around you in the dark, seeing nothing but some flickering streetlights and an on-coming thunderstorm that occasionally flashes in the distance: near the mountains. Another sigh leaving you as you try and convince yourself that you were just being paranoid... Until you look in front of you, your heart stuttering in your chest.

There he was. Simply standing tall on the other side of the street, not even under a streetlight. His maroon armor almost blending into the shadows of the dark. That glowing visor of his being the only thing bright of him in the moment as he doesn't move, and that itself was eerie as hell.

How far did they go: Honestly? The farthest they went before was another (American) state. Only because you had a head start.

Again, you were very inexperienced on escaping at this point of time. So, you can't absolutely be sure that you have escaped, but it was just a mistake to learn within time as you give a sigh of relief. Believing that you could finally have a normal life without him stuffing you close to him whenever he can.

Your fingers press a button on a vending machine to simply get something to drink after a long travel of evading many things in the world. Your hands being stuffed into your jacket as you watch the machine work its magic on getting you what you have paid for before the disastrous thing decides to give you a strange whirr and gets stuck on the beverage it was trying to deposit to you.

Your grumble under your breath before you suddenly freeze. Your eyes scanning the reflection of the vending machine. Seeing a replica of him in it, just more faded. His helmet so close to the right side of your face, and you swear you could feel his quiet, heaving breaths on your skin.

How long did it take for her to find her: Didn’t take long for him to find out, and it didn’t take long for him to go into a rage and locate you as soon as possible.

For him to find out is not many things a human, even an Astarte's want. Weather he would be getting word or a certain milli second twang in his soul. He would not be happy despite his silence of trying not to fuck everything up in the area around him. You can just feel a dark, dangerous aura around him. Tis just best to leave the World Eater alone when he emits just an aura. Don't get in his way.

Why were they afraid: A bit of social phobia, but I’m having to leave this one alone for I would like to eventually make some past/lore stories.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

Did they find a city to live in: They don’t even have time to set up shop. They have to keep moving if they were to avoid him properly.

A bit further in with your expertise in escaping. Your figure jogging through a random, forest park. You have learned quite a few things. One of them being: never, stop, moving. It's a very critical decision to make, not only for your health (in good and bad ways,) but for your... sanity as well. You wish for a second of peace? Run. Run as fast as you can, maybe put a few evading tactics in there too.

Though, who truly could outrun an Astarte's?

You yelp as your suddenly picked up from the scruff. Your hands' extending out in surprise of such an action. Your neck abruptly titled in an opened angle as a cold metal meets your sensitive skin there. A low, almost growly purr escaping him while he inhales your scent through his own helmet. To any on lookers, this just looks like a mischievous marine annoying their bonded.

Did another marine find them, did they live with them: There was one marine, but they didn’t live long enough to make a nest with them…

Another marine has and they have offered you a friendly/platonic time within their nest. To this random Marine, you almost look like a... lost child to them. You're fidgety and look around yourself a lot as if you were looking for something, someone. Which should have been the first and only alarm bells for the Marine. The second would be your refusal because you know what he could do to them, and it wouldn't be long before you see this nice Marine disappear.

Do they have other admiring eyes on them: Oh, they do, but not many are stupid enough to challenge Spartak out of all Astarte's for your hand. Those who dare are quickly... eradicated or if they are lucky enough... a wounded pride and physicality would surffice.

[highprincessofthenightcourt]

Okay, so I was thinking about SJM’s writing and how some parts of it are surprisingly heavy and realistic. That got me spiraling into thoughts about her tendency to self-insert into her characters—something that shows up often in her books.

A while back, I fell down a rabbit hole researching her life and career, and that’s where I learned a lot of what I’m about to talk about. So, SJM was adopted—her exact age at the time isn’t totally clear, but it seems to have been sometime before or during her teenage years. She was adopted by a lawyer and a judge who lived in Manhattan. They gave her a high quality education and introduced her to the arts by taking her to museums, ballets, and operas.

In one interview, Sarah mentioned that although she already loved literature, it was after witnessing a tragic event in New York that she really leaned into fantasy as a form of escapism—a way to cope. During her freshman year of college, she met her now husband (he was an RA in her dorm), and two years after graduating, they got married and started their family.

Now, tying this into ACOTAR: I think aspects of her personal journey show up in Feyre’s story. Imagine the emotional adjustment of going from being in the adoption system to suddenly living in a wealthy home in a city as vibrant as Manhattan—that shift must’ve been intense. And I see echoes of that in Feyre’s transformation: from neglect and isolation (maybe even including things like not being taught to read early on or living in poor conditions), to a life full of love, magic, and purpose. Velaris could easily be a fantasy coded Manhattan—it’s where Feyre finds herself, her family, and her true love.

Then there’s the Archeron sisters, and what parts of SJM they might represent. We know that when the first book was in the works, Nesta and Elain weren’t meant to be much more than “evil stepsisters.” But later on, Sarah decided to give them more depth, and to do that, she had to dig deeper into herself and her own experiences. I imagine that was hard—Feyre was her ideal self, and her arc was so solid: full of growth, realism, and beauty. So when it came time to flesh out the other sisters, it must’ve been difficult to know what pieces of herself to put into them.

To me, it almost feels like the sisters ended up embodying two extremes of her personality—one representing her worst traits, the other her best. And while that’s interesting, it becomes a little problematic because Feyre feels like a full, real person—flaws and all—while the sisters can feel confined to certain “roles.” That limitation kind of hurt their development.

We saw some of this in the last spin-off. The arc didn’t fully land for me—it felt like Sarah kept needing to remind us that the character was “bad,” and it got in the way of any real growth. Maybe she worried that if she let her grow too much, she’d start feeling too much like Feyre? I just hope this pattern doesn’t repeat in Elain’s book. I want her to be her own person—not boxed into a trope, but allowed to be messy and real, with good and bad and everything in between.

And honestly… I haven’t fully figured this part out, but sometimes it feels like through her storytelling, SJM is processing different eras of her life. Feyre might represent the full scope of her journey—her whole life, so to speak. Meanwhile, one sister feels like adolescence: all rebellion, insecurity, aggression. The other feels like childhood: blissful ignorance, wide-eyed hope, and gentleness.

Idk. I’ve written a whole damn essay and I’m still not sure what I’m trying to say. But yeah—just something that’s been rattling around in my head.

[thatsdemko]

they want us to be - m.mount

masterlist

pairing: Mason mount x fem!reader

warnings: angst + me having a lack of knowledge of the transportation systems of Europe

a/n: yeah I’m sorry about this one..

the train ride in from London to Manchester was long and brutal. you’d think somewhere along the lines you’d just move half way in between your best friend and your current job, but moving in this economy was proven to be rather difficult. so the train it was.

the cities and empty towns pass by you in a whirl and before you know it you’re the next stop: Manchester. you’d gathered an overnight bag that feels weightless as you pick it up and move out of your seat towards the exit. you thank the man who helps you off and find his car. it doesn’t take long, it’s the most expensive one in the parking lot.

“hey!” his head snaps up from his phone, whatever it was becomes completely irrelevant once you’re in the warm car and tossing your back in front of your feet.

letting out a long sigh you take a look over at him. his hair still has patches of blond showing and the buzz cut is much shorter than you last had seen it. “hey,” you let out finally. leaning over the center counsel you wrap your arms around him, “why’d you cut your hair?” you gently run your finger tips over the rough ends of his hair before he quickly pulls away, a blush creeping to his cheeks.

“you don’t like it?”

“I’ve expressed my dislikes for it many times.” you’d recall for him the last time he’d cut it short, you couldn’t look him in the eyes without laughing and you’d think he’d learned his lesson that the look wasn’t meant for him, yet without your supervision Mason still went ahead and did so.

“yeah well you’re not my girlfriend so you don’t make the calls.” his bitter tone shuts you up. you result back into looking out the window much like you did the whole train ride here. was this how it was going to be?

LAST TIME | Manchester

“come on, come on! say it again, please.” you laugh, your body leans forward against the wooden table tops as you wait for masons giggle fit to end before he turns serious and does his best impression of his coach on the sidelines.

“you’re getting really good at it.” you lie, or maybe it was flirting. the alcohol in your system had you looking at Mason differently than normal, and it’s not you to blame when he wears a tight black shirt and grey sweatpants that could have any girl swooning in admiration of his biceps.

“am I? I only learn from the best impersonator myself.” he gestures to you in front of him, “give me your best Ben impression, I forgot what he sounds like.”

“you chatted with him on the phone two hours ago!”

it’s his turn to lean in, his hands pressed against the cool table tops as he watches you take a swig from your pint of beer, “and I’ve seemingly forgotten what he sounds like! come on, do it!”

rolling your eyes you give him what he wants and a roar of laugher escapes from him. the sound fills your heart and makes your chest feel fuzzy and your head starts to spin. was this what it felt like to fall in love? was the feeling of falling supposed to be this intoxicating?

“is it crazy I miss London?” he looks up from the empty pint in front of him, his hands awkwardly cup the glass trying to find anything to occupy the numbness in his chest when he mentions his previous home. while Manchester was beautiful and different, you didn’t live here. you lived a train away and that killed him.

“I don’t think it’s crazy, mase. this was a big change— and may I mention a good change.” you reach across the table, your sweaty palm touches the back of his hand and pulls his attention away from the table.

“I guess I just miss you.”

oh. you feel a tightness in your chest as you pull your hand away and sink against the back of the chair.

“I shouldn’t of said that I’m sorry—“

“no. don’t apologize.” you cut him off, “I miss you too.”

a relief washes over his face to hear the words back. there’d been plenty of new friends and faces for him to kindle a connection with, but no one could hold a candle to what you two had. there was an undeniable chemistry that sparked since your teen years and carried on, it’s what made you two inseparable despite the commute.

“I’m sorry, I’m being like the worst drunk ever.”

you shake your head. reaching your hand across the table again, “don’t say that. come on, let’s just go to bed? maybe we just need sleep.” you suggest and he agrees. he trails behind you into his master bedroom that’s practically untouched. the space is so clean and barely lived in, it’s almost uncomfortable to look at.

“will you sleep with me? I don’t think I can be alone right now.” his finger tips grab a hold of your hand, the warmth sends a shock wave through your body making you turn in his direction. he’s standing in the doorway of the bedroom, his large body blocks you from seeing the rest of the room as his eyes plea for your attention.

“mase, that’s dangerous.” you warn. the last time you’d slept in the same bed was the same night he’d gracefully taken your virginity and ever since then you could never see him naked without your ovaries having a reaction to him.

he wets the bottom of his lip with his tongue, his beautiful brown eyes are glassy and convincing, you press your lips against his for a brief second, “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

“can’t you stay with me forever?” he whispers half jokingly but half serious. you pretend you don’t hear him and just climb into his bed while he undresses himself.

“I mean what I said. I want you with me forever.”

NOW | Manchester

“pint or glass?”

“glass.” you say setting your things down into the living room and waiting for Mason to come back in. you stare out the large floor to ceiling windows out at the city. the grey clouds and dark skies feel different here, in London you felt safer from the storms, but here? there was something chilling about the look.

“how’s Ben? anything new happening with Chelsea?” he moves into the living room and sets your glass down on a coaster. he takes the seat closest to where you’re standing and watches your eyes move from cloud to cloud and person to person.

“joão left.”

“so I’ve been told.” he says making your head turn in his direction and offer him a small smile before taking the seat next to him.

“but Bens good, he just moved into my building.”

a shocked expression lights his face making you snort, “what? you’re surprised we get along now?”

he nods his head enthusiastically, “yes! it took months for you two to get along!”

“months?! I’d say weeks, he always had a problem with me.”

it’s masons turn to snort making you give him a look of surprise, “he just had a thing for you and then he realized you only like me so he gave up.”

you fight the urge to tell him it wasn’t true. you fight the urge to tell him the reason Ben moved in was because he was with you. the reason you couldn’t stay with Mason forever was because Ben chilwell was your idea of forever.

“well I think he still has a thing for me.”

Mason rolls his eyes whipping out his phone from his pocket, “you want me to tell him off? I can tell him you still have feelings for Christian—“

“no! oh my god one time! I said one time I liked Christian for a week!” you launch your body onto his and try to fight him for the phone while he types and clearly whoever it was, it wasn’t Ben. because the person on the other end responded faster than your boyfriend actually would.

“who are you actually texting?” you press, a cheeky grin on your face, “come on, I know it’s a girl none of your mates respond that fast!”

he puts his hands up as a white flag and admits from start to finish about the new girl he was talking to. he’d mentioned how she was awfully similar personality to yours and how he really liked her, but he fails to admit she’s not you. he likes her enough to keep things going, but she lacks the personality you have.

“I’m so happy for you.” you whisper, voice sounding breathless and a mixture of emotions settled into your chest. you’re happy for him, and this is exciting news, but why did it hurt? Ben was your boyfriend who you so dearly loved, but why was Mason moving on the worst thing you could ever hear.

you guess it’s true, maybe you two were meant to be but you’d never know until you stop loving others and love each other.

[stupidlittlespirit]

Okay so! I'll put this under a cut but this is where I write Reader from.

MtB!Reader is in Gravity Falls by choice. It was an active decision to move away from their home city (I don't have a specific one in mind bc I'm in the UK, so this means literally any city lol) because of ongoing stress. Both with work and with family.

They sold all the shit that they owned, put the few things they couldn't bear to leave behind in their van, and just started driving. No plan, no intention, just head empty and escape.

For a while, they slept in the back of their van. When it became clear that it was unsafe to do so (and bad for their poor back), they realised they'd need to find somewhere to live for a little while. The idea had been just for them to stop over somewhere for a bit, just a short stay to work and save up cash. So, they woke up one morning and swore that the next town they drove into would be the one they stayed in to make that happen.

That town happened to be Gravity Falls.

With the last bit of cash they had, they bought the local paper and that's where they saw the ad for the diner. They took it. To begin with, they'd planned to live out of their van and work until they could rent somewhere, but Susan had refused and told them she knew a guy with a spare cabin he never used (his name is Ron; nice fella!). They managed to bag it, even without a down payment, and they moved in.

Reader was fairly (horribly) depressed at the time they took the waitstaff position and they didn't want to work in that line, but they knew they had no choice. So, they started but they quickly got bored. Susan is lovely but the service industry sucks and it got old fast. They were thinking of moving on again, even though it had only been a few weeks. They didn't have much going for them and they'd no intention of sticking around for long. No friends, no family, no real reason to put down roots.

However, as we know in Spores, they ran into Dipper and Mabel and the rest is history!

The job gave them purpose and helped them develop bonds/come out of their shell. Reader became friendly with the kids, of course, and fell in love with them, however they also found a bit of a kindred spirit in Stan. Not in so much of a parental way, but just in the form of another adult who actually saw them as a person. They became buddies.

Reader didn't actually meet Ford properly until the Crossbow Incident occurred about 2 weeks into their employment. They were struck by him (in more than one way) right from the moment they met him. As it's written in Spores, it took a long time for them to get to know him but they thought he was cute and more importantly, they thought he was interesting. They saw him interact with the kids or work on his own stuff, and they liked it. They learned more about him from Stan and it piqued their interest further. They thought he seemed sweet. ALSO, before they really made friends with Ford, they made a science joke in his presence and he laughed (even though he pretended it was just a sneeze). Reader still considers that to be their top achievement since starting to work for the family.

When Reader slowly started seeing more of Ford, they made a concerted effort to accommodate him. I write Ford as being autistic/BPD, so Reader made a special effort to give him allowances in conversation or in interactions. They didn't push him if he seemed in a bad head space, they didn't make him feel bad or out of place if he couldn't function on a particular day. They were just very thoughtful about things he might need. They still are.

So yeah. They do have a backstory in this very loose sense. I plan on writing it in more detail as we go on so you'll see more of it over time :)

[dangerousduckcloud]

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

“Couldn’t sleep.” You replied, putting the well-loved copy of the book back in the shelf. “What about you?” “Yeah, same.” He sat down on the couch, legs spread and elbows resting on his knees. “Hard to do so when you learn your whole life is a lie… Just ink on paper.”

I've been updating daily, however I've noticed the quality is not quite good sometimes (today, for example), so I'll be taking longer to update, maybe once a week/2 weeks or so, I'm sorry for this, but I wish to write something of good quality

Chapter 6 < > Chapter 8

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog

Your fingers were ghosting over the spine of the books, surprised to see so many titles familiar to you: from Lord of the Rings, to Jurassic Park, all the way to Pride and Prejudice. Some books were more worn than others, a small smile creeping up your face at the thought of knowing just who read them so many times.

A new question, added to the many that’d appeared even since you acknowledged you’re in another universe, popped on your mind. If so many things in their world are similar to yours; people, social functions, historical events, what was so different that led yours not having superheroes and vigilantes? Why’s there no Gotham, no Metropolis or Star City?

Did they simply not exist? Or didn’t want to make themselves known? Was Superman real? What made him not want to help people? Had he been captured by the government instead of the Kents? Had his ship landed someplace else? Are there other civilizations out there?

So many questions, so many possibilities, not a single answer.

You’re at least glad you don’t face possible alien invasions every week or so.

The authors in front of you are the same as in your world, Tolkien, Crichton, Austen. It’s not a coincidence of other people writing books with the same title, does this mean there’s another version of yourself in this world? Is there a different version of them in yours?

“You alright?”

Your heart skipped a beat, a shiver going down your body. You weren’t scared, there was nothing to fear anymore –besides the impending unknown of your fate you wished to ignore for the moment–, yet it felt that no matter how many times you’d get to hear that voice, it will always feel like the first time.

The early morning light deluged him in a pink-golden light, water droplets falling to the floor. He was dressed in black pants and a tight black shirt that didn’t seem comfortable, his muscly arms threatening to tear it apart.

His unnaturally vibrant green eyes were more focused on the book you were holding, Little Women, rather than your face.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You replied with a sigh, putting the well-loved copy of the book back in the shelf. “What about you?”

“Yeah, same.” Jason crossed the distance between the door to the couch at a slow pace, letting himself fall down on it, his legs spread and his elbows resting on his knees. With his back towards you, there wasn’t much you could gather of how he was feeling. “Hard to do so when you learn your whole life is a lie… Just ink on paper.”

“I don’t think it is.” With long strides, you sat down next to him, ample space left between you two. “You’re a human being, with feelings, thoughts, ideas… You’re more than a puppet created to entertain.”

Jason sighed, a hand running down his face. His eyes were lost somewhere in the deep-blue carpet underneath your feet. Outside the window in front of you, the sun was rising, delicately turning gold everything it touched. “But how is it our lives are just stories in your world?”

“How is it that I’m even here?” You asked. Your hands were fiddling and a deep breath escaped you. “Don’t you think that if you were ink, we wouldn’t be able to have this conversation? If you were the mere product of a writer, how could I be here, when I’m not? Maybe… Maybe I’m the one that’s not real?” His eyes were now focused on you. “I’m as lost in this as you are, but the one thing I’m certain is that you’re real, Jason. As real as the moon and the stars.”

It was immensely evident something continued plaguing his mind, his eyebrows drawn and eyes unfocused. You knew simple words were of no use to making him feel better, not until they had answers that you couldn’t provide. Whatever conclusion he came to his thoughts, his face searched yours once again, a tired smile on his.

𓆩𓆪

Life was full of colors now. It was as if someone had removed a cover from your eyes, letting you see things for how they really were.

Breakfast had been a chaotic affair. The moment Alfred called for everyone to the kitchen to eat you were bombarded with questions from Tim and Cass of what endured after you woke up last night. They’d both have long gone to sleep after they were sure you were safe (you later learned they’d been both carried out of the cave by Dick and Jason the moment they fell asleep, as they refused to leave you alone)

“So, we’re not real?”

You placed down the fork on it’s way to your mouth for the third time. “You are, just not in my world. At least, not like this.” Your hand pointed to the newspaper resting on the table, the front page the news of Scarecrow’s transfer to Arkham, resisting the shiver that wanted to go down your spine. Your meal had lost all traces of warm, being bombarded with questions that left you no time to take a bite. “There are no vigilantes there. That’s why I first thought Tim was delusional.”

“You what?” Tim croaked. The question was silenced by the chorus of laughter from everyone else, and you thought you even saw Alfred coughing to hide his smile, shaking his head.

“This is truly intriguing.” You nodded at Cass’ comment, unable to say anything else at forcing yourself to eat the cold scrambled eggs, taking a big gulp of orange juice to help it go down and avoid making a face at the taste. “I wonder how one world is shaping the other, but which one?”

“Does that means everything we’ve suffered is all because someone wrote it?”

Tim’s words echoed in the once noisy room. All eyes were on you and the eggs in your mouth felt like burnt paper.

You couldn’t say no, because you didn’t know. And you didn’t think there even was a way to find out. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Which world was shaping which? Was your world shaping theirs, or was it theirs shaping the stories you were shown?

And you couldn’t say yes, because that would mean…

Without thinking, your gaze wandered over to Jason, locking eyes. His neutral, curious demeanor changed in a second, a brow raising. One look was enough for him to know what you were thinking.

“Why did they kill me?” The question was rough, harsh. The ambiance had turned cold enough one would think Mr. Frezee had walked in.

“I… I don’t know.” It was better when you thought they were crazy, with no interrogations and uncomfortable questions to interrupt your breakfast.

“Don’t lie.” Jason stood abruptly, hands slamming on the table so hard the glasses and cutlery shook lightly. “Why did I—”

“Jason.” Dick cut in, raising his voice. “We don’t even know if what they write is what happens to us, it could be the opposite. What’s done is done.”

“Easy for you to say, dickhead. You weren’t almost beaten to death with a crowbar and then blown up.” Dick winced at the mental image of what his brother suffered in his last moments, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“And my parents died in front of me.” Dick’s shoulders sagged. He licked his lips. “I could’ve prevented it. I saw the man before the act, I knew he didn’t belong, but I did nothing. And as much as I want to berate myself from not saying a word, there’s nothing I can do now.”

Jason was mouth agape. The remnants of his anger didn’t slipped away as easy as it appeared, but the gleaming in his eyes diminished. A battle was waging within you, because while there was no way for them to discover it unless they traveled to your world and dig up the reason, which wouldn’t be hard to find, you still felt they deserved to know the truth, that Jason deserved it.

But did he deserve that? To know the cruel reason of why he suffered all he did?

Daring a look to Jason through wet eyes, you discovered he was looking at you as well, disgruntled and sorrowful rather than angry. He wasn’t much different from everyone else, however Tim seemed to be the worse taking in this realization. Or maybe he was regretting the question slipping through his lips.

“I don’t know.” Your whisper lied again. “That issue… That came out decades before I was born.”

“What do you mean?” Tim asked in a more ‘business like’ tone, his investigative soul coming out. “You’re Jason’s age, shouldn’t you had been fourteen?”

“I don’t know how time works here. That was in… In the eighties, I think? I was born in the 2000’s.”

“Well, that can’t be right.” Tim said with a frown on his face, his gaze quickly getting lost and the gears in his head turning at full speed. “The years…” His whispered to himself before standing up and bolting out of the kitchen towards the cave.

The only sound after his retreating steps were those of the clock in sync with your heartbeat. Everyone was looking at you, and without words, it felt as if they were loudly blaming you for their very own miserable existence.

“I’m sorry.” Apologizing for everything you’d done and everything you didn’t, you walked out the kitchen, not a clear destination in mind.

[mikimakiboo]

The people have spoken

Well, here's my boy :D

His name is Toxicity ! Pictures and lore under the cut because it's long lmao

Also if you have any questions about him please don't hesitate to send asks I'll be happy to answer 👉🏻👈🏻

Fun fact: I created him because I wanted to ship Hate with someone but I didn't want it to be with Nightmare, and since I couldn't find anyone I ended up making a whole ass oc (so yeah Toxicity is shipped with Hate lmao)

Hate is by : @/6chimeraqueen9 (I think ??)

He's a tall demon-like skeleton (approximately 1m80) with green wings (his wings look like the Lightfury's wings in HTTYD except they're green instead of white), a green tail and an emerald horn

His magic allows him to make people toxic towards their partner/family/friends/anyone but he doesn't use it often, when he makes someone toxic it usually means that the person they are toxic with was a jerk and deserved to be treated like shit in his opinion

He also has a passion for chemistry and biology and he can make lots of different potions, using his magic as components to vary the results and make anything he wants

He also cannot use his magic to fight as it is not made for that, so instead he learnt how to build bombs and use firearms (here's him with a gun as a shitpost lmao)

He is usually pretty stoic and doesn't show much his emotions, he actually has troubles expressing his feelings and needs time in order to put them into words, so he'll usually stay silent and will tend to bottle it up (same with love, he'll show it through act of services, quality time or gift giving instead of verbally)

One good way to determine what he's feeling tho is by looking at his tail because it will wag or move according to his mood

Noowwwwww his backstory:

He was born between two wars in an isolated universe where peace was an abstract concept, at a time where no one trusted each other because anyone could be a spie, so everyone was either ready to fight anyone in their way or manipulative to either get people on their side or not be suspicious

The ambient toxicity mixed with some left-over magic from the previous war ended up creating a child around six years old (similar as to how Paperjam was born from the mix of Error's and Ink's magic, instead in that case it's magic residues and toxic atmosphere)

He roamed around at first, trying to find someone who could guide him and teach him how things worked, but due to his aura (that he couldn't control yet) he was only met with aggressiveness and ended up having to learn everything by himself (all while living outside since he didn't have any family)

He was a teen when the second war started, so too young to be enrolled in it, and stayed in the city instead

By that time he had learnt to control his aura, but with the war it amplified his magic and as a result he had to wear gloves as to not influence people by touching them by accident (which happened frequently)

His universe ended up collapsing on itself due to its instability (multiple wars, emotional unbalance, ...) but he luckily managed to escape, becoming an out-code (he was a young adult, around 20yo at that time)

Since he didn't have anything else to do and nowhere to go he started traveling the multiverse until he settled in a calm surface AU in which he discovered his passion for chemistry and biology and started studying it

He still travels during his free time and met other out-codes like that, some of which he became friend with as well as universes he likes to visit sometimes (he met Hate during one of his trips)

He still has an apprehension of physical contacts when he is not wearing his gloves so he mostly never takes them off (except for laundry or cleaning himself and sleeping, of course)

He also has troubles opening up to someone or trusting others as he grew up mostly alone and didn't have anyone in his AU since they were all suspicious of everyone

Also the hole in his tail is actually an injury, he got stabbed when he was a kid as he was trying to steal food and it didn't heal properly so it made a hole (that's why he doesn't have it in the last pic)

And obviously he learnt how to build bombs and use firearms in his AU, firearms he learnt by watching the soldiers and training in the forest, and bombs he learnt by disassembling those that didn't blow up and looking at how they were made in the factories (mostly by sneaking inside or looking through the windows)

Then it was a lot of practice and he is now able to create little portable bombs and use firearms

So yeah that's my baby :D