#null-safety

[itsbebebrainrotting]

I am genuinely so curious how trros is gonna take trlukey inevitably explaining the truth about him in the null. Because like on one hand, in an ideal scenario, she realises he isnt a threat, they become friends (or at least no longer are enemies), and all is finally okay between them (maybe ros feels really really guilty but thats the worst of it). On the other hand? There are so many ways this could go very wrong. For starters, the confirmation bias of ros learning lukey was actually in the null (no matter the sad reason) may be enough for her to double down and say she was right to kill him, ignoring all other factors (e.g. he didn't remember being in the null and also wasn't there by choice). Not to mention the fact he will probably take her back to the null (yknow the place that traumatised her so much in the first place) to convey this information. Sure, hes suggested warning her in advance and using a keeper rather than his own ticket to limit the chance of her having an extremely negative reaction to the situation but how much will that really affect the scenario?

[fire-on-fuel]

the thing about skirata induced daddy issues is that implying their existence isnt even a dunk on kal skirata. it's impossible for kal skirata to occupy a healthy place in nulls' psyche as a father because kal isnt just their father he's used to being their everything and theyre used to it too

[sarcasm-and-references]

[jamiemooreblog]

🎭 "My Kotlin code tonight: a beautiful, tragic ballet of null pointer exceptions. Each `?` a teardrop in the vast, unforgiving void of potential runtime errors. 🌌 It's a modern *Inferno*; instead of demons, I'm battling the ghosts of `null`. 👻 Send help (and maybe a bottle of something strong; I need a break). 🍷 Share your own #nullsafety tales!

[gaylasmith306]

Top Flutter Trends for 2024 in Mobile App Development

Discover the top Flutter trends for 2024 that are shaping the future of mobile app development, from AI-powered Flutter apps and wearable integrations to IoT connectivity and instant apps. Stay ahead with innovative features like null safety and expanded web and desktop support.

[earlgreylatte]

Returnee

(Justice League Various x Reader) After centuries of surviving in a world without another human in sight, you return and find the heroes you once admired to be the only interesting things around, besides beating the shit out of monsters, of course.

Implied sexual content ahead, minors DNI.

You would describe yourself to be the pinnacle of mediocrity, your life consisting of drowning in course readings and dealing with people’s bullshit in your customer service job. You existed. You may not have been wholly content, but you got by.

And, sure you, like millions of other desolate young adults, had fantasies of escapism, being strong, being someone special. But you ultimately knew your place. You were no hero; no alien or chosen human that could answer to a greater calling. You were just you, average in every way. So unlike the heroes and villains that occupy your world. You’ll never make an impact that’ll even come close to the likes of them.

The only thing you can hope to do is try to make your parent’s suffering of starting a life here worth it. That all the money and work invested in you would have some sort of pay off. Even if it means you had to traverse a path you’re still uncertain about.

You knew your limits, and maybe that rigid acceptance is what led to your own self destruction.

You find yourself in a desolate world void of humans but occupied with beasts unlike anything you have ever seen before, with sharpened talons and razored blades for teeth. No matter how much you cry and scream you do not wake up. The only communication you get comes in the form of ‘tabs’ that resemble something out of a video game. It’s gives you quests to adhere, reminders to keep things interesting, notifications you’re being watched by deities that watch your struggle like a show to tune into. Every moment, no matter how humiliating, is spectated.

You want nothing more to return to the life you had, answer the messages you never got the chance to respond to, try the things you never got to even attempt. You curse your inaction, your own spoiled thoughts from a lifetime ago, your parents for even giving birth to you if this is the reality you have to face.

Your survival hangs on a thread at first, you only being able to run away from the larger beasts. Eventually your tears dry, you fight back against the ones smaller than you. These Outergods sponsor you with a game like currency. You level up. You acquire gear better than a makeshift bone shiv. You consume. You sleep. And you do it all over again for the next couple centuries in this world. You do not age, but you grow taller, strengthened by the creatures you slaughter. Eventually, you don’t need a blade to slay them anymore. Then the beasts try to avoid you. You still kill them. They’re never ending. The least they can do is give you something to do in their infinity.

You stop feeling fear, sadness, indignation, and even hatred. You exist. You somewhat remember the life and name you had before. You don’t really feel one way about it or the other. Your family, obligations, and old identity are all null and void to you now.

Clearly your spectators grow bored as they send you back to the world you once called yours. Apparently barely a year has passed since you were taken, even if you might be the oldest human to walk Earth now.

For the first time in a long time, you’re struck with uncertainty. A world that isn’t stuck in time, one loud with the presence of people, and yet you feel no relief or sanctity in the safety of your old home. No, you’re struck with how just like in that beast world, you’re still horrifically, agonizingly bored.

Until you notice a hoard of androids terrorize the street. You can feel the blood thrumming in your veins, and you realize with renewed vigour that it wasn’t bloodshed that you had yearned for, but the thrill of battle, not knowing if you’ll live, and putting everything you had left on the line after abandoning the softness that once defined your modern life.

And so you fought. You were barely grazed with a laser, but you could appreciate the adrenaline rushing through your body, the uncertainty of a new adversary. You paid little mind to the screaming civilians trying to evacuate the streets, all you cared about was tearing about these metal beings before they could even try to do the same to you.

You’re broken from the euphoria of battle when you feel a whoosh of air behind you, and a dozen androids deactivate before you.

“Hey there, don’t think I’ve ever seen you around,” what appeared to be living electrical energy clad in crimson spoke to you, in a tone you could almost recognize as friendly. “Not that I mind the help! I’m always happy to meet—!”

You can feel your pupils dilate as every inch of your body screams that this man is dangerous. Powerful. Different from the fodder you faced before.

“—so, what do you go by?”

Summoning your broad sword, you swiftly slam it into the ground below, watching the man get tossed back by its force as the concrete crumbles beneath him.

You toss your sword to where he lands, but he quickly recovers and disappears before reappearing before you.

“Woah, what are you—“ you interrupt him by throwing a punch but he dodges again, “Can we talk about this sudden aggression—!?”

Tiring of his evasion, you recall your sword and prepare to strike the ground again before pausing as a sudden rush of memories strikes you.

“Ah,” you hum, before stretching out your hand, halting the approaching speedster that stares at you confused. “You’re that one hero…Bolt, or whatever. Speed guy.”

Yes, a hero. Not a warrior. Not a survivor. And certainly not a killer. You feel the apathy rush back as you stare at him. No, you wouldn’t get a real fight out of him. He’d sooner try to subdue you. Non-lethally. Honestly, he was way too nice.

“Flash? I mean, I’m the Flash, hero of the city you’re in!” The speedster fumbles for a second, starting at you in puzzlement.

“Yeah, let’s just call it here.” You sigh before walking away. You definitely forgot heroes were a thing for a second. And takeout.

You’re stopped in your tracks when Flash blocks your path.

“Woah there, you can’t just leave!” He protests.

“Why not?”

“You took down like hundreds of androids, attacked me, and-and you haven’t even introduced yourself!”

“Hmm, I think I forgot my name,” you reply, bring a hand up to your chin in mock contemplation.

“What-?”

“Do you want to have sex with me or something?” You ask. “Because you’re being a bit clingy, man.”

The hero states at you with his mouth agape, and you can see the red flush growing around his cowl.

“I get it, it’s pretty easy for arousal to mix with thrill in battle. I won’t say I’m not attracted to you, but I’ve got things to do, people to fight, and I doubt I can get what I need from you,” you explain nonchalantly. “But hey, keep your head up, man. There’s some charm in being the fastest man alive. I’d test it under different circumstances, really.”

You back away as Flash remains still as a statue, exposed skin now matching his suit as he blankly watched you leave.

“What just happened…?”

Honestly you don't have anything against heroes. You pity them, really. They remind you of your own inexperience once upon a time, fighting against the inevitable. But you can't deny that there are some with years beyond even yours, continuing to fight in their crusade.

Some more interesting than others.

Hawkgirl, who you recall to have been a member of the Justice Society of America, was someone that made you look like a babe in comparison to the lifetimes held in that strong body. Good fighter too. You're almost disappointed your battle was interrupted by another invasion and she apparently found you to be an ally rather than an opponent after that. You just wanted to see if those aliens were worth a damn.

Wonder Woman also stood out for the same reason, encountering her when you arrived at Themyscira for a duel with their strongest. And boy did she deliver. But sadly you could see that she adopted a non-lethal style, fighting only till first blood rather than to the death.

At least their bathhouse was luxurious even if it was communal. Diana said that it was for bonding. You think she was totally checking you out.

You could say that you were becoming increasingly familiar with the growing Justice League, encountering its members every so often.

You didn't pick a fight, aware it would be more trouble than it was worth. You doubt you'd be too satisfied either.

So when you find yourself encountering the Bat in Gotham after subduing Clayface, you're not surprised.

You're also not surprised when he recites your name and missing status.

He drones on about the circumstances of your disappearance, your return as a much stronger (and hotter) individual, and your dubious intentions.

You throw you sword at him, and he ducks out of the way, throwing you a glare just as sharp as your blade.

You explain that he's not a great speaker, and he should invest in some interpersonal communication courses. And that's coming from you. You then add you'll leave after you try the recently opened batburger.

He gives you a ride in his Batmobile.

Superman was a bit of an irritating figure. A boy scout, despite his godlike abilities. Staring at him, you wonder how much kinetic force it would take to burst the blood vessels beneath that impenetrable skin.

"We would really like for you to visit the Watchtower! We understand if you may not want to commit to being a full time member, so if we could call on you—!"

He pauses when you outstretch your hand and stare at him with a raised eyebrow. He places his hand in yours, almost as if it was instinct, blushing when you brush your thumb across his skin.

You hum in thought before departing.

"Uh, wait! Was that a yes!?"

You're pretty sure you're about to bed Green Lantern. You had come to Coast City, curious to see if any disasters would occur to alleviate your boredom, but had instead ran into a man with swoopy hair and an nice aviator jacket in a bar. He was pleasant. He seemed charmed by your Superman/Lex Luthor conspiracy theories. And he talked about flying with a passion unfamiliar to you.

So when you ended up at his place, back against his door as he kissed and nipped at your neck, you pulled him back by his brown hair to look at you.

"I'm a virgin, by the way."

He stares at you incredulously with a touch of concern. "Are you sure this is how you want your first time to go? We don't have to do this."

You doubt you'll get a fight out of him. He'd probably just trap you in a construct, but there are other ways for you to get physical.

...and you needed the experience for the next time an Amazonian propositions you.

"I like you well enough. And I've waited a long time to actually do something like this," you reply, still playing with his hair.

"You really want to do this with an older guy?"

You laugh, "I'm definitely the older one here."

His lip twitches as he shoots you an amused look, "And I'm Batman."

"Do you really want to talk about him before we-?”

The lantern silences you with another hot kiss that you grin into.

Yes, this Justice League certainly made things interesting, even if some of them were obnoxious do-gooders.

Hal: So, what's your name?

Returnee, with jumbled memories: Demonic Blade of Slaughter

Hal:

Returnee: Do you want to have sex?

Returnee: So, yeah, I was trapped in a monster world for presumably centuries with these outer world gods being the only other sentient beings and they only made contact via stream chat donations. And the only thing that even elicits any emotional or physiological response in me is violence.

Batman, internally dying:

Returnee: Don't worry, I don't fight street tiers like you.

Diana: It's been a while since l've last had such an invigorating bout, I would love to spend more time testing how far we can push each other to... our limits.

Returnee, who spent the last centuries off Earth as a virgin: I hear the glory of battle calling, must be off, let's fight again soon!

Outergods: Okay, so the human has definitely cleared this world, so how about we return this bloody thirsty heathen back to their original world and see what entertainment we find in the chaos—!

Outergods: Okay, so they're just having sex with all these superpowered individuals. And is that—-Oh my god, is that Constantine!?

Outergods: Yeah, no, this is hot, I'm donating 10k coins for that.

Clearing out my drafts! I really love the whole system in ORV and I found the returnee concept so interesting. Masterlist

[hainethehero]

Steve is a master tactician in the battlefield.

He was one of (if not THE most) well-read soldiers with the highest combat competency ratings in his unit. Was he stubborn at times? Yes. Too stupid not to run away from a fight? Yes.

But he wouldn't purposely put his team in danger to fight against someone as powerful as Sentry. He's not Tony, who recruited a literal child to fight for him in his war.💀 Time and time again, the MCU has shown that Steve would rather sacrifice himself, and compromise his comfort for the safety and freedom of others. So if you seriously believe that he'd lead his team to face their inevitable deaths against Sentry, then your critical thinking skills are null and void and you're just being a bitter old hater which is equally sad.

Also, let's just remember the fact that almost everyone on Team Cap is still alive and fighting for the good of the world while the other team is either dead or in shambles.💀🥴

The Steve hate is getting weird atp and it's really showing how bitter, obsessed, and uneducated most of the anti-steve part of the MCU fandom truly is.

[fruitiesss]

|| SWALLOW YOU WHOLE ||

PART 1

There is a darkness that surrounds your new team. It is something you have never seen before.

tags: reader gets a wound, ew blood, the thunderbolts are found family, nightmares, the void word count: 2k

pairing: eventual bob x gn reader

a/n: wowowowowow this took time to plan out and i actually proofread this time. Pls enjoy. Lmk if you want another part to it.

Every sound around you was muffled, your ears ringing as Bucky and John took each arm and pulled you away from the middle of combat, Yelena crouching in front of you to snap her fingers in your face and ask a question that fell deaf on your ringing ears. She held up 3 fingers and started talking, her lips moving but nothing reaching you. The battle around you slowed as the two super soldiers sat you against the outer wall of the watchtower, John pressing his hands firmly against your stomach and crouching beside you so the other two could finish the fight off. Your head fell forward and shoulders sagged while he held you up with his sturdy arm.

With time, the sound seemed to return to you, intensifying with each passing moment. John had left you and someone else had come to your aid. Bob's hand splayed across your font as he kept you from getting up that you returned with a grunt of exhaustion and protest. He shook his head and slid his arm underneath your knees and supported your back and he lifted you up and carried you inside to safety. With your senses shot, you succumbed to sleep.

Darkness. Pain. Void. Your eyes shot open to nothing, an empty yet endless null. Your heart pounded against your ribs rhythmically as you got to your feet, turning around again and again in an attempt to find something, anything.

The third time you turned, bright amber crowded your vision despite the darkness around you. Two people, man and woman, stood beside each other on a grassy hill deep within the spot of colour. Their faces were hidden and their hands were joined but they looked… uncanny. Wrong.

Dread filled the pit of your stomach as you took an uneasy step back, gaze scanning them up and down as they just stood there, motionless. Their forms twisted, spun and dissipated into the amber alongside the grass of the hill, leaving behind a barren and rotten ground. Perplexed, you took measured steps forward until your canvas shoes hit soft ground. Moving further, you looked over the contour of the hill down onto more barren ground.

Snap.

You whipped around, seeing that the void had vanished, the amber and strange surroundings fully encapsulating what had just been endless black and you shut your eyes for a brief moment, only to open them to the familiar ceiling of the infirmary.

Sitting up with a start, you frightened Bob and Yelena, who had both been sitting beside you since you'd passed out. Bob tilted his head with a quizzical expression and Yelena sat forward, hands out as if she had been ready to catch you.

"What happened?"

According to the rest of the Thunderbolts, you had taken a blow from some enemy they had been stopping, though you strangely don't remember any of it, only the searing pain in your side which had been a blow from their blade evident by the mass of bandages around your midsection. Bob had been the one to carry you inside as he had refrained from using Sentry in battle since the New Avengers were established.

Bob. He sure had been a pivotal relationship in your recent life. You connected with him, his past resonated heavily with yours and you found him genuinely pleasant to be around. He had his dark moments, as did you, so you both helped each other out when you were having trouble. There would be times he was experiencing hardship that you held his hand through, making sure he ate and wasn't alone at all. And there would be times you'd be struggling where he would do the exact same for you. You two had grown to be inseparable and the rest of the team knew it.

That's why you found yourself sneaking into his room late at night when you couldn't sleep or were having nightmares about horrible things, just to feel human touch and comfort. Alexei would make jokes about you two exiting his room together in the morning, which always earned a smack to the back of the head from his daughter. You both grew flustered when it was brought up, stuttering and stammering to brush it off casually but there truly was nothing going on between you in those moments, just shared comfort and warmth.

This was one of those nights. That void you'd woken up in, or dreamt, you really have no idea, had been haunting your thoughts like a ghost. It had you twisting and turning on your plush bed, eyes screwed shut one moment and the next wide open and looking around. Eventually, you sat up and looked around, that dread settling in the pit of your stomach once more as the shadows danced across the walls, taunting and leering at you. Your breath became shallow as you picked up your phone and left your room, pacing the halls for a few minutes before shaking your head and coming to a stop outside the familiar door of his room. Inhaling deeply, you knocked quietly on the hardwood.

Bob answered the door in a matter of seconds, his soft brown hair tousled from sleep and his eyes half lidded from sleep. Your knock had woken him.

"I'm sorry--" You began, interjected by Bob's soft sigh and voice.

"It's fine, come inside. Tell me what's up." He stepped aside, allowing you to slip past him. You sunk onto his teal beanbag that he'd begged to move from the main room to his bedroom, sinking into the beads.

"I can't sleep. There was this dream I had, in this.. void.. you know, not that void, but a different void. There was just nothingness. And it was so vivid." He listened to you ramble and recall the events of that dream, nodding his head along as he woke up properly. His hands came to rest on top of yours as your voice trailed off in the middle of a sentence, eyes meeting his. "Bob..?"

He squeezed once, twice, three times and sighed again, holding your hands firmly between his. "It was just a nightmare." He reassured. "I haven't been using my powers, so there's no way that I-- that he can do anything like this." His eyes were weary, exhausted. "Come and sleep, okay?"

Searching his eyes, you nodded and stood alongside him, slipping into bed beside him and wrapping your arms around him. His hand found its place on your back, making sure it was alright to place it there before doing it. His soft breathing lulled you to sleep.

The next week was a blur. You were forced to take a step back and focus on healing while the others got missions, all except from Bob, who had been staying beside you and helping you with every step. He had been your rock during all of this, without him you wouldn't have healed as fast as you had. Now it was Saturday, the whole team got together every Saturday for what you referred to as 'Family Game Night' to Bucky's dismay (he secretly loves it).

You, Bob, Alexei and Ava were sat on the couch while Bucky, John and Yelena were on chairs around the coffee table, each of you holding a set of uno cards with the discard and deck on the coffee table. You had changed into your pyjamas after you had all eaten dinner together, the comfiest pair you owned. It was a cream set, oversized fit, with small grooves in the fabric like corduroy.

"I am greatest at this game!" Alexei announced, setting down a wild draw four and making John pick up four new cards. He sighed and threw a blue one on the pile with a grumble and rolled eyes. Yelena put another blue one on the pile while Bob set down his blue one on top of theirs with a triumphant smile.

"Uno." He grinned, holding his single card close and shielding it from Ava, who was trying to peer over his hand.

You sighed and drew a card while Ava, still trying to see Bob's card, lazily placed her next card onto the pile. Alexei laughed again, the sound booming around the living room, and placed his next card. It was a draw 2. Walker smirked and set down another draw two, shooting a victorious glance at Alexei as Bucky sighed exasperatedly, drawing the four cards and tipping his head back so he was looking at the ceiling.

Bucky would win, Bob would end up with eight cards and a grudge, and you would retire to bed moments after they began to argue. You'd had your fun for tonight, so now it was time to rest. Your wound had been pulsing with aches and pains all day but you had persisted and now it was time to suffer the consequences.

Sleep would come but not easily which was a recurring factor of yours nights recently. Dreamless, boring nights without interrupting Bob. It was torture.

Alas, you closed your eyes and started counting sheep. But then you opened your eyes to a sharp noise.

You were in a laboratory. Clinical white intruded on your gaze as you dazed around, squinting at the harsh light around you. A dark figure sat atop a medical bed in an alcove of the lab, head sagged forward and stance defeated. Two humanoid shadows standing either side of it, their borders bleeding into the surroundings and posed as if they had been in excruciating pain for whatever had come before.

Your eyes widened as you eased forward again, still dressed in your cream pyjamas. Your heart pounded in your ears, the light becoming too much, too harsh, burning your retinas.

The figure stood slowly, lead by it's head, and faced you. It was all black, as if what was standing there was devoid of light. A void. The void.

Your heart leaped into your throat as the dots began to connect. "You--"

It cocked it's head with a sickening crack, and you woke up with a sharp gasp, sitting up and accidentally tearing a stitch or two. Your face contorted into a wince as you held your side, gasping your air. your throat constricted around your gasps, eyes watering as red seeped into your clean bandages. Calming down, you peeled your duvet off of you and glanced down at your bandage. You'll have to change it.

You stood from your bed and left the safe confines of the room, the tall walls feeling like they were caving in on you as your limped, clutching your side as if it was a fresh wound. Uneven steps echoed throughout the hallway while you made your way to the medical bay, your eyes bloodshot from the strain and stress of what you had woken up from. Your heart still pounded in your ears like you had just been ripped from the dream and placed back into reality, never changing.

The digital clock on the tray in the infirmary bleeped in and out, red digits reading 5:28AM as you sat on the first bed in the row, unwrapping your bandages from your middle. Blinking through bleary eyes, you took the supplies you had gathered and soaked a cloth in antiseptic, pulling the skin taut to clean it when you noticed something. The edges of the gash were seeping droplets of blood here and there but where you had the skin stretched, your eyes caught something that had that unease settling in your gut again. Where the skin parted in a smooth line across your midsection, a dusty pool of black seemed to ebb onto the surface from inside. It was surreal, something you have never seen before in anyone. It began to grow, the veins around the wound turning black and stretching around your middle like lightning. It was slow, and then it stopped.

What was going on with you?

[usahanahaki]

Love me in Ruin

[Trafalgar Law x Reader]

PROMPT: After being lovers, becoming enemies was easier than becoming strangers.

Synopsis: You're held hostage on your ex's ship, and the past you and he both supposedly buried resurfaces along with the feelings you both harbored.

Author's Note: Oh my god, a decade later and I finally got around to writing my first Trafalgar Law oneshot (might become a fic? idk). I've been so down bad for this man since I was in middle school lmao, and I've always wanted to write a lovers to enemies story for him. Please note that I gave the reader the epithet Titania (the first Law fanfic I ever read did this, and I wanted to pay tribute to that). Lastly, this takes place in Wano, so if you aren't that far yet, some things may not make sense. There are some slight? plot spoilers (but nothing major), just characters that may not be familiar if you're not at Wano yet.

Side Note: Wrote this while listening to the following songs on repeat: Disease by Lady Gaga, Crashing by d4vd (with kali Uchis), and TILT by Irene & Seulgi. If you don't mind listening to music while reading, I recommend putting these three on repeat.

Warnings/Content: toxic!exes, mentions of past betrayal, anxiety, co-dependency, spoonfuls of angst, not necessarily a happy ending?I don't actually know what this is; Law and reader are just doing what toxic exes do best: dancing around each other till one folds. Law and Reader match each other's freak. No smut (yet) just kissing and sensual touches. In terms of citrus scale, I think this is lime? Def not lemon lol

Roaming these halls once more, you were reminded of your place. Nothing but cold grey metal pipes, cold chilling vents, and cold grey doors adorned the walls. Letting your fingers trail the metal pipes lining the submarine, memories of the past of when you first boarded the Polar Tang played like a silent film in the confines of your mind. This is my home too, right Law?

God, reminiscing on the past was such a drug. Indulging in the sentiments and feelings left in those memories was so addictive. You're my home Law. It was hard to leave the mind, when rationally, the only happiness and safety you had left remained in the depths of those fleeting moments. I can't live without you Law. Indulgences after all, were meant to provide relief and temporary asylum from past transgressions. But this is reality, not the past. And in this reality, this very moment, survival is the only means of perhaps rediscovering happiness and safety.

But being back aboard the Polar Tang was anything but relieving. No, not like the past. This was not the home you once found safety and comfort in.

These walls, these floors, and halls closing in are enemy territory.

He knew you were here. He knew where you were. It was only a matter of time before the distance that he and you put between yourselves became zero. The rhythmic click of his heels against the metal floors that reverberated throughout the hall was a sound you were all too familiar with. Yet again, reality was not in alignment with expectations. That familiarity was completely null, and in its place, was the sound of your archenemy slowly approaching. 

You knew all too well that Law wasn't one to let his enemies come anywhere near his family, especially not after Corazon. And that principle once used to apply to you too. But this time, you are not a Heart Pirate. You are not family. Like an ancient curse, the words "you are no longer his family" were mentally and erratically repeated over and over. 

Once a confidant and once an equal, all that remained were past titles of what you and he once were. 

His languid movements, yet firm grasp on Kikouku only reaffirmed what you and he both knew. This was not the reunion either of you ever anticipated having. 

Law did not move from his position, and his face remained hidden in the shadows, but you didn't need the light to know the nuances of his expression. Brows furrowed and cold eyes that did not look upon you with the softness and love you once knew. This was the cold, sharp, and calculated demeanor that the seas and its inhabitants knew of the man that donned the title "Surgeon of Death". A terrifying man rumored to carry life and death in his palms like playthings stood before you.

"Lost already? I thought your time with the navy would have fixed your stupidity, Titania". 

You scoffed. "Rest easy, Surgeon. These halls are engraved in my bones." Your hands remained in your pockets, but the chilling numbness that slowly spread wasn't alone. Digging your nails into your palms proved useless in ceasing the tremors. They were muscle memory—reminders of what would inevitably come.

You spoke again, "Congratulations on defeating Doflamingo, Law. Kaido, sends his regards". Law took a step forward into the light. "If you're gonna tell a lie, you should at least try a little harder to sound more believable." "Oh but he does!", you mused, "After all," your eyes wandered back to the walls, before settling back on him, "he personally sent me to greet you. He knows just how much you miss me." 

The pounding of your heart, seemed louder and louder with each beat. Law smirked, "How kind of him." He continued to move towards you, his grip on Kikouku did not waver, and his eyes remained locked onto you. Standing before you, the time you both spent apart was clear. You were not the same person you were two years ago, and he was not the same man that once held your vulnerabilities with care.

The man that stood before you was the same one that ripped your heart out in exchange for becoming a Warlord.

His free hand slowly made its way to your jawline, fingers grazing your cheek before slowly caressing your face. His eyes roamed freely, carefully analyzing the vision before him, "You haven't changed." Your right hand trailed up Kikouku, then moved to envelop his clenched fist lovingly.

"Are you sure Law?", with your left hand, you swiftly pressed your thumb right under his lips and index below the chin, forcing him to look at you directly, "Why don't you take a closer look then." Your steel resolve was not lost on him; he knew what the consequences were when he made his decision to be a Warlord, and he stood by his decision. At least, that's what you told yourself.

What gears were turning in his head? What did he have planned? What was the purpose of you being aboard his sub? Much to your dismay, there were too many unknowns at play for this little game you and he had going on to continue. Right now, you were a hostage on an enemy ship playing hooky with your ex.

Getting back to Onigashima to report back to Kaido was your top priority at the moment. After all, he had ordered Bao Huang to summon you and the other members of the Tobi Roppo for a special announcement. Yet here you were, not in Onigashima, not with the Tobi Roppo, not present for the special announcement, but stuck with your ex on his ship.

Law sighed, before letting go of your face. "You might have changed Titania, but my feelings for you haven't". You scoffed. "You certainly have a funny way of showing it, Surgeon." "Oh? We're back to Surgeon? I liked hearing my name leave your lips," he leaned in close to your ear, "Maybe I should leave you singing my name again, hm?" 

Countless times under the moon’s piercing glow, Law repeatedly had taken all that you had to give and more. What was even left of you for Trafalgar Law to take? A man who hid his immense need for unholy retribution against a foe like Doflamingo from the rest of the world and to an extent, his own crew, was one that needed to be clinically studied. 

And the papers may have concentrated on the Strawhats' conquests in Dressrosa with brief mentions of Law's contributions here and there, but it didn’t take a genius to guess who was the mastermind methodically moving each piece in place for checkmate. 

Eyes remaining glued to his figure, you gently placing your hands flat above his chest, then let them glide down softly as you recommitted his tattoos and anatomy to memory. "Sorry to disappoint", hands stopping near his stomach, you hooked your index finger around the belt loop closest to his zipper, then pulled him in even closer with your eyes glaring back at him, "but my concerts are no longer exclusive to you, Law".

Oh you had his full attention now.

Law was no longer mentally multitasking between his plans and what to do with you. There was nothing left for him to mull over. He had claimed you many times before, and now? Well, the tally was about to increase once more. Hell, who knows maybe he'd take you over and over again until he got his fill. There were many who dared to wonder what the Surgeon of Death looked like beyond his steel exterior, but only you had managed to see the fragility that lay beneath it all. At least, that's what you had hoped.

Hell if you became privy to what the man's intimate life looked like after your once shared one ended. How revolting. The mere thought of another person engaging in the same intimate acts with him that you and he once shared, was enough to push you over the edge. It's fine, you half-heartedly told yourself. You lay your head gently on his chest, pressing your ear to hear his heart beat. He's alive.

You lifted your index finger, and dragged your nail across his bare skin down his chest, and his breath had run ragged, "You want me Law?"

Tilting your head up, you began to press light kisses into the side of his neck and smiled, "Earn me." 

He was in for it now.

[techhiz]

May I request a TFP Ratchet x femme cybertronian reader with Ratchet being protective.

-🦝 anon

Worried Rambles.

Ratchet was not one to mince words, especially when it came to safety. The war had taken so much from all of them—Cybertron, their comrades, their sense of peace—and he was determined not to lose anyone else. Particularly not you.

It wasn’t a secret among the Autobots that Ratchet had a soft spot for you. His stern lectures and sharp remarks softened in your presence, his touch gentler when tending to your wounds. Though he never admitted it outright, it was clear to anyone paying attention that his feelings ran deeper than mere camaraderie.

And so, when you disobeyed his direct order to stay behind during the latest skirmish, Ratchet was furious.

The Decepticons had launched a surprise attack on a nearby energy facility. Optimus had called for immediate backup, but Ratchet, ever the pragmatic one, had insisted you stay behind to assist him at the base.

"You're not a front-liner," he had said firmly, his optics narrowing as he spoke. "We need your skills here, not out there where it's dangerous."

But the idea of staying behind while your comrades risked their lives didn’t sit right with you. Against your better judgment—and his orders—you joined the battle.

Everything had been going fine until a stray blast from Starscream’s null ray struck you square in the chest. The force of the hit sent you crashing into a pile of debris, your systems sparking and your vision flickering as you struggled to stay conscious.

By the time the Autobots returned to the base, Ratchet was already waiting, his optics scanning each one of them for injuries.

"Where's Y/N?" he demanded, his voice sharp with worry.

Optimus, silent but understanding, motioned toward the medbay.

Ratchet stormed in, his optics widening as he saw you propped up on a berth, your frame battered and scorched.

"Y/N!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of relief and frustration. "What in Primus' name were you thinking?!"

You winced as Ratchet began to run scans on your injuries, his servos moving with practiced efficiency but a noticeable tremor in his touch.

"I told you to stay behind," he started, his voice rising with every word. "Do you have any idea how reckless that was? How easily you could have—"

He cut himself off, his optics narrowing as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

"You don’t think," he continued, his tone softer but no less intense, "about how much this affects the rest of us—about how much this affects me!"

"Ratchet, I’m—" you began, but he didn’t let you finish.

"No! You don’t get to apologize and brush this off like it’s nothing. I can’t—won’t—keep fixing you up after you throw yourself into danger like that. Do you know how close you were to..."

His voice broke slightly, and he averted his optics, his servos clenching into fists.

"I can’t lose you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I love you, Y/N."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unintentional. Ratchet didn’t even seem to realize what he’d said, too caught up in his tirade to notice the stunned expression on your face.

"Do you even understand how important you are? Not just to the team, but to me? You can't keep—"

You reached out, grabbing his faceplates and pulling him into a kiss mid-sentence.

Ratchet froze, his optics wide with surprise, but he didn’t pull away. Slowly, his servos came up to rest on your shoulders, his tension melting as he leaned into the kiss.

When you finally pulled back, his optics searched yours, his expression a mix of confusion and vulnerability.

"Y/N..." he started, but you silenced him with a soft smile.

"I love you too," you said simply, your voice steady despite the pain in your frame.

Ratchet sighed, his shoulders slumping as he finally allowed himself to relax.

"You’re impossible," he muttered, though there was no anger in his tone.

"And you’re overprotective," you teased gently.

"I have every reason to be," he retorted, his optics narrowing playfully. "Especially now."

He placed a servo against your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring. "But if you ever scare me like that again, I swear..."

"You’ll what? Lecture me to death?"

He huffed, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Don’t tempt me."

From that day on, Ratchet’s protectiveness didn’t lessen, but it took on a new form. He trusted you to make your own decisions, though he made it clear that he expected you to be careful.

And while you still found yourself in the thick of danger from time to time, you always knew that Ratchet would be there to patch you up—and to remind you, in his own gruff way, just how much you meant to him.

Because no matter how chaotic the war became, one thing remained constant: his love for you.

[kerink]

Did bill and ford have a.... wedding 🥺

yes! it's one of the first things that happens after weirdmaggeddon starts

i haven't worked out the exact language of the deal bill and ford make yet, but it ultimately comes down to bill splitting hairs in order to get more from ford, and he's got ford in such a bad position that he has no choice but to accept the terms.

bill basically manipulates the language to go from a 1:1 "i give you the rift in exchange for my family's safety" to "well gee sixer there are three of them and keeping them unharmed isn't the same as protecting them so really shouldn't you owe me 6 things in exchange? ah what the heck i'll make it 3 since i'm such a nice guy!" so ford ends up having to give over the rift and obey bill and marry him in order to secure stan, mabel, and dipper.

and since it's part of the deal, the wedding has to happen fast otherwise it a) nulls the contract if anything happens to them before the wedding can take place or b) makes bill protect them "for free" which he's not going to do.

what i want to make really horrific about the wedding is that it's nice. for being put on by a bunch of demonic aliens. like bill tries with it, he really tries to be gentle and follow jewish customs and he tries to be sweet with ford. a gross mockery of what they could have had if things had been different.

the only actually fucked up elements i want to include are that the glass they break is the remnants of the rift's snowglobe, and the "wedding gift" bill gives ford is that he saw traps ford's childhood bully in the middle of the dance hall (which is the catalyst for gideon realizing he may have taken the L on this one)

[aclikeairconditioning]

Since I wrote one for reverse verse Edwin, here’s one for Charles. Takes place in Hell, though nothing’s too graphic (still, be warned.)

I had to go through the torture of rereading/viewing this comic to write this (it wasn’t torture at all, this is one of my favorite @technically-human comics. Charles is so precious, and I almost cried while writing this and looking into his face at the same time.)

I will also add @i-am-as-normal-as-you-are because I forgot you last time. I’m very sorry, that was rude of me, I know this is your au too.

When I got to the end I realized that I was ending similarly to the way I ended Edwin’s, so I leaned into that and used the same wording.

(Ps. @technically-human, you have no idea how much of a euphoric adrenaline high your response gave me last time. Thank you so much, and happy belated birthday!)

-

Charles tripped.

Apparently, 70 years of practice became null and void when interrupted by three decades of peace. Safety. Home.

Charles tripped, and was immediately caught up in the storm of people running by, most of whom didn’t pay any attention to the sixteen-year-old struggling to get back up, to keep going, to not get caught.

Charles couldn’t even blame them. He would have, had in the past, done the same.

That didn’t make him less scared.

That wouldn’t make it hurt less when The Conductor eventually caught up to him.

He did manage to get up, though (a minor miracle on its own.) As he prepared himself to run again, get out as fast as he could, try to make up for lost time, a flash of blue in the corner of his eye gave him barely a moment's notice before he was being grabbed from behind.

His first instinct was to fight. To shove off whoever, or whatever, had grabbed him. Punch and claw and fight to leave the other behind in the dust as he got as far away as possible.

He would have, too. He would have, had it not been for the slightly panicked call of, “Found you!” in his ear, spoken in a voice he knew better than his own.

“Edwin!” The name came out more of a gasp, than Charles would have liked. “What are you doing here?”

Because he was here. God, Edwin Payne (just, devout, brilliant, Edwin Payne,) was here. In Hell. The one place that Charles thought he could protect him from, despite the others’ insistence to protect him (and the others newly added to the ranks of the Dead Boy Detectives.)

Edwin, who he had always thought believed, if only a little bit, that Charles deserved the torment he had been sent to.

Edwin, who was here-

“Protecting you, as always.”

Oh.

Oh.

He was here, because he really believed that Charles needed protecting. Who wanted to protect him, despite the Hell forged demeanor, the unspeakable things he had done before they met.

He was here, in Hell, actively going against his God, mustering up a fragile smile for Charles’ benefit.

He was perfect.

He was everything.

He needed to know.

So Charles grasped Edwin by his shoulders, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he made the declaration that could change everything (just please don’t take him away from me.)

“I love you,” He all but sobbed, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth against all odds.

“What?” Edwin asked, taken aback. He blinked, eyes wide with shock. “Well, I- You know that- Me too, of course.”

Charles gave a short chuckle, shaking his head, because he didn’t get it. “That’s not what I meant, mate.”

He sniffed heavily before looking back up into Edwin’s eyes. “I love you. Like courting, sweethearts, holding hands in the park, love you.”

Edwin’s eyes had gotten larger, if that were even possible, panic taking over any kind of control he’d still had. Charles’ heart only sank a bit at that. He could have predicted how Edwin’s deeply moral sensibilities would take this sentiment.

“Charles, I can’t-”

But Charles wasn’t able to figure out what Edwin couldn’t as a burning hand closed over the back of his neck, ripping him away and towards the engine room.

He was taken away to his next death with the sound of Edwin calling his name behind him.

[heartfullofleeches]

I think two of my favorite readers are fast food reader and everglades reader 🥰

Also the everglades reader posts immediately reminded my of Fluffy (the comedian) skit about the crocodile hunter. (Cant remember the actually words just the touch part lol).

Ever!reader: you see that?! That one right there has a bite force equal to biting into a boiled carrot! / This one is so venomous it could paralyze you faster than it take for you to fall to the floor!!

...

Ever!reader: I'm gonna touch/poke it! 🥰

"You see this little guy right here? This right here is a wandering spider - one of the most venomous spiders in the world. Nausea, severe pain, abdominal cramps, erections that can last for hours, breathing difficulties that can lead to death if not treated soon enough...."

You count off the small percentage of the list of symptoms you've mentioned so far with your fingers as the drider looms behind you. Little was quite the broad term to use for it. The creature was large enough to where they could probably fit your entire head between their fangs had they wished. It ponders how a human could be so brave to turn their back on a beast of their kind while rambling on about the very side effects they have a probable chance of inflicting you with at any given moment. Perhaps it was stupidity. Either way, the spider was positively enthralled by you and your nulled sense of danger. How on earth has a person like yourself survived out here for so long?

"Anyway, I'm gonna poke them."

The drider shifts - given little to no time to process your words as your finger pads the fuzzy layer of skin right where a nose would be if they had one. You laugh as all six of their eyes point towards the area of their face where your hand had touched.

"Boop!...See, this little guy is chill. Barely any reaction at all"

Truth be told, the drider was too stunned to move a muscle. No one's ever had the nerve to touch them like that. And which such a carefree attitude too. You truly had zero regards for your own safety -

Which meant if you ended up in the spider's web there's really no one to blame for your disappearance but yourself. If anything they'd be doing you a favor by taking your well-being into their own hands.

[meanbossart]

hey RJ! Obsessed with your du drow work. With all the talk of breeding etc, I can’t help but wonder— how good of a support would drow be to a pregnant person? I was also the person who asked if he was a good caretaker (lmao), and you said that he was more likely to be an overbearing one than neglectful. Does this also apply to a pregnancy sort of situation (with or w/out Astarion being involved), or is it a consistent sort of attitude of his that would carry over? I was curious since it’s a bit of a different circumstance than what I had asked previously, and I have a crush on him so I like to rotate all his facets around in my head. even when he’s fucked up and weird etc

He cares about someone being in a state of pregnancy about the same amount as he cares about mothers and kids - he favors then a fair amount more and actually reserves them a bit of respect by default (if a humanoid race, at least). And of course, if he archaically decides you're an unworthy mother for whatever reason this is just nulled.

But if it were actually someone that he cares about like Shadowheart or another friend who can conceive, he would go out of his way to ensure their comfort and safety in whatever circumstances they are in. He's still a realist when it comes to survival situations so you couldn't expect to get away with being a complete dead-weight - but he'd be much more patient than usual.

Addendum to that: It would only apply if the kid was wanted at all. DU Drow WILL help you out with your at-home abortion if you're tight. He might help if you're not, also, but I wouldn't take up on the offer myself in that case.

Obviously a completely different situation if the kid is his own. He'd go insane if he had to put a pregnant S.O through anything short of sitting in bed and eating home-cooked meals all day, he'd adore them and cling from morning until night and never get sick of it and life would cease being about anything besides keeping his partner and progeny safe and in good health. If you enjoy being pampered and deified for being fat with a kid, it would really work out for you! If you'd rather retain a semblance of independence and self sufficiency for the duration of those 9 months, it might get a bit annoying.

(And no, I'm not gonna do undead-male-pregancy, don't ask)

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Can I get some steter with morally dubious Stiles?

You sure can! @kevaaronday made this list.

A Darkness Follows by havok2cat (9/9 | 41,994 | Explicit | Steter) Stiles serves his community service at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. He's assigned to a mysterious patient and finds himself quickly becoming obsessed.

As most wrong theories are by PotatoYoghurt

(46/46 | 35,150 | Explicit | Stetopher) The world takes everything from Stiles.

Stiles decides to take it back.

Null & Void by skargasm (18/18 | 28,762 | Explicit | Steter) In a world full of the supernatural and superpowers, everyone eagerly awaits their 18th birthday to ‘receive’ their gift. On his 18th birthday, Stiles Stilinski comes into his powers and finds out in the most horrific way possible that his gift is more of a curse – one unguarded touch, and he absorbs both a person’s gift andtheir life-force. 

Determined to keep his friends and family safe, he moves away from his home and takes a job with the government, taking away the gifts of those who would abuse them. As one of the most powerful – and potentially dangerous – people in the world, Void feels completely alone. 

Peter Hale’s gift is incredibly prized – mainly because no one is allowed to openly discuss what their gift is. Working within the P.A.C.K. bureau, he keeps his family safe and does the world a service. No-one’s gift can touch him, and he is one of the very few who can tell what someone’s gift is from one simple touch. 

So what does he do with this ruthless but attractive new partner who refuses to let Peter touch him?

To Court a (Oblivious) Werewolf by StilesIsMySpiritAnimal (5/5 | 25,437 | Explicit | Steter) There was no mistaking that this was the Spark.

He walked with a lethal grace, hands in his pockets and head tilted down slightly. His entire body had a soft glow to it.

Three bodies moved in unison to flank him, and they walked the remaining distance to the pack.

As if sensing his perusal, the boy looked up, right at Peter, his whiskey-colored eyes flashing in the sun.

Oh. Peter briefly wondered if the young man hid his face for safety, or because every ‘wolf within ten miles would be looking to court him.

Perhaps by Triskuit (1/1 | 7,168 | Explicit | Steter) Stiles and Peter run into each other when attempting to kill the same people. They get together and go a-murderin'.

-----

“Should we be comparing lists or something?”

There was an amused snort. “Perhaps.”

They stood around awkwardly for a few moments and then Stiles went to get a closer look at the thoroughly shredded Body Formerly Known As Todd.

“You’re not going to ask?” the werewolf blurted.

There was surprise and incredulity in his voice. And was that a hint of disappointment? Stiles bet he had a whole spiel prepared. He smirked.

“About what? You’re a guy who turns into a wolf-bear creature. And? Do you have another trick up your sleeve? Some fascinating hobby?”

The werewolf erupted into a full-body laugh, mouth open and eyes sparkling — Stiles was close enough now to see that they were blue — and he was pleased to elicit such a response. He wanted to hear that sound again. 

Aconite is Forever by threedices (1/1 | 5,636 | Teen | Steter) Magic helps Stiles find his soulmate. Knowing Peter exists is a comfort after his mother's death.

While magic doesn't stop the Hale fire it allows Stiles to bring Peter back when he thinks sacrificing himself for Stiles is a good idea (the fool).

Too Good to be True by stellewrites (1/1 | 5,256 | Teen | Steter) “This is a big fucking job, Ali,” Stiles said tiredly as he looked over the blueprints for the banks. “I’ll be doing you more than a favour if I do this. It’s peak time for tourists, so that means that cops are going to be more alert than usual. We won’t have much time.” 

“So, you’re in?” She confirmed. 

“Yeah, I’m in,” he said

“Who the fuck actually robs a bank in Las Vegas?” Peter murmured, feeling hysterical when he saw the masked group spread around the bank. 

--- 

Peter's on holiday with his friends in Las Vegas when he gets caught up in a bank robbery. One of the robbers has really pretty eyes - not that Peter noticed…

To Captivate a Killer by Noxnthea (1/1 | 2,000 | Teen | Steter) “The problem is that I’m not sure whether I want to kill him or kiss him.”

There’s silence from the Sheriff’s end of the spell before his father says, “Really, Stiles?” 

Stiles has accepted a contract to assassinate the Hale prince. It’s not panning out quite like he expected.

Just Calm Down by SnakePit1995 (1/1 | 1,085 | Gen | Steter) Stiles putting wards on Peter's apartment was easily the best decision he ever made. They worked perfectly and saved them time and time again. The intent wards were an everlasting argument but Stiles was never going to take them down. 

OR

The intent wards don't let Peter into the apartment when he's angry and Stiles finds it endlessly entertaining.

[that-hazbin]

Your time travel hellradio AU which I have taken to calling the Timewarp Media AU in my head is such a fun idea to explore

I especially want to see how Alastor tackles the porn industry because while he’s really bad at anything pertaining to sex he’s really good at punishing the damned

I could see al putting those that violated his workers consent on display for the public to ridicule and punish

As a present for the Angel dust in his memories as twisted as that is

Alastor is going to do a lot of delegation in this AU, because let's be honest, you can't have a singular guy be the head of all media. That's just too much. He will propose ideas from time to time, though. And since he's going to own the souls of those he puts as figureheads (because there's no way he's going to allow any the mere possibility of getting a little too drunk on their status) they're going to listen to his ideas.

This is to say that contracts become a very normal thing in the porn industry, specifically magically binding contracts that protect the workers. Funnily enough, these contracts look a lot like BDSM contracts, just with some added caveats. No one is capable of abusing their fellow coworkers due to the magical binds of the contracts they signed. And, there's the added bonus that once they've signed on, they're magically protected from others outside the industry— granted that they do not abuse the protection in order to do whatever they want without consequences, in which case the contract becomes null and void.

The protection the contracts would provide is very simple; the contractee only needs to say or think their "safe word" with intent, and they will be transported to safety, although the conditions of this magic need to take something in order to work. Something simple that you could live without, like a cut of your hair or about a spoonful of your blood.

With regards to Angel, I think Alastor decides his present to him would be to make him the figurehead of the porn industry. Of course, he'll need to find him first, and unfortunately this means Alastor's the one solely responsible for the industry up until then, which is. Not Fun.

(Except for the steamy late-night radio stories, the scripts always manage to get a laugh out of him. Sometimes porn is ridiculous enough that it's just funny.)

He doesn't know the exact date of Angel's death, or where he landed in Hell, so it takes a couple decades before he finds him, and when he does, Angel may already be in a contract with someone— in fact, I think it would be very interesting if, due to Alastor's control on the porn industry, there's people who try to form a sort of "black market" porn industry. It's Hell, lots of people aren't going to be too jazzed with Alastor's "consent is sexy" campaign. Valentino definitely wouldn't care for it.

Unfortunately for Valentino and any other wayward pimps out there looking to make some cash on the black market, Alastor was actively looking for Angel, so they don't get to remain in the shadows forever.