#worst crossover ever i think

[1bittten2shy]

forgot about tumblr. take this or whatever i donr know hi

[bigfemboyenergy]

The Worst Crossover To Ever ‘Cross Over’ Pt.3

kill me i have no idea how to write the batfamily or the joker//

Sonic breathes in deeply, trying to regain his cool. He’s seen so much bullshit in only a few seconds, so it makes sense. It almost feels like someone’s writing him into this crap, because of how bad it is.. but anyway.

About twenty or so feet away, there’s the entrance to a warehouse. In front of it, two people stand; a clownish creep, with eerily green hair, slicked back, and his lips smothered with tarnished red lipstick..and Danny, in something resembling a hero suit of sorts, with his hair and eyes now white and green, respectively. It’s quite the spectacle. So much so that there’s a few bat- and bird- themed people just a few rooftops away..watching.

After a few seconds of watching Danny interact with the freakish clown man, Sonic decides to rush in, standing between Danny and the clown, concern leaving his eyes looking wide and more unusual than normal. The clown pays little mind to him, trying to talk with Danny, intrigue lighting up his thin, sharp features. “Oho, another!” the clown starts. “I’ve never seen anything quite like you two before.” Sonic stands defensively in front of Danny, arms stretched out to protect him. “Yeah, and I’ve never seen a clown become the butt of their own joke, but here you are,” Sonic retorts, with a scowl. He’s going full defensive. Behind him, however, Danny doesn’t seem nearly as bothered as one might expect.

A while earlier, Danny had just arrived, drawn in by the noise. Only to see a clown near the source of the sound and some bat furry guy and his supposed accomplices some buildings away, just watching? He was not pleased. Flying down to the clown, he discovered that the horrible shrieking was just the laugh of this nasty clown..or a ringmaster..? Less clown-like..reminds him of that weirdo from Circus Gothica. Danny shivers, immediately uncomfortable. “So, who are you, and what are you doing?” Danny starts, ready to interrogate. The ringmaster-clown-guy shrugs, with a cruel giggle; “Oh, you know, a bit of this, a bit of that.” Danny rolls his eyes, noticing his dodging of the question. The clown dude looks Danny up and down, in a way that makes him so much creepier. “Are you, mayhaps, one of them?” Danny looks at where the clown is pointing- the bat furry and some other furries. “Uh, no way, don’t know who that furry is, never seen him before today-” Danny starts, before being rudely interrupted by the ringmaster-clown’s horrible laughter. “He isn’t quite a furry, but it’s funny you see him as such! He’s Batman, kid. And you are?” Danny looks at the clown guy, deciding that his non-hostility leaves him somewhat okay to respond to..especially if he’s gonna start building his rep back up. “Phantom. You know, usually one should say their own name first during an introduction,” Danny says, with a curious expression. “But you didn’t. Who are you, then?” The ringmaster grins wildly as he proclaims, “The Clown Prince of Crime, the Joker, one and only!” Danny’s face pales slightly; this guy is definitely not a good guy, with a name and title like that. Maybe I shouldn’t have indulged him, he thinks.

Danny takes a step back, feeling a lot less safe around this “Joker” guy. He hasn’t done anything wrong yet, but he certainly will try, won’t he?

As Sonic arrives at the scene, Batman almost takes action. These people..where have they come from? He nor any of his colleagues habe met them, that’s for sure- he’d know if they had. A boy called “Phantom”, clearly a meta, and some blue spiky meta. Unusual and sudden appearances could mean..something big. But it seems that the situation is dying down for now.. so he swoops away, bringing the rest of his team with him.

Sonic glares at the clown, not knowing what he may have done or not done to Danny. Danny steps up behind Sonic, whispering in his ear, “He’s some sort of prankster, I think? Calls himself “Joker”. He hasn’t done anything yet.” Sonic lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Whispering back, he murmurs, “Let’s just go, for now. He gives me the heebie-jeebies.” Danny nods, and Sonic promptly grabs Danny and runs away, with incredibly speed, the Joker looking at the two of them and waving as they escape the scene.

Now back at their makeshift home, Sonic asks, “Why did you leave?” He puts Danny down and looks up at him, a bit saddened. “I thought something bad could’ve happened, or you were afraid of me…” He sighs. Danny looks at Sonic, eyes sympathetic and kind; “I woke up and was too worried to sleep. Sorry. I just..wanted to scope out the town. And, uh..I think we have some more things to talk about..” He gestures to himself, and then to Sonic. “Some abilities and backstories we need to share.”

[loki-wants-an-army]

spn and pjo might actually work as a crossover- a brief essay

Percy Jackson and Supernatural would actually make a decent crossover- both having that early 2000s, road trip Americana vibe mixed with myths and monsters of the week. Dean and Sam would freak the hell out. Percy and Annabeth would be sassy and suspicious as shit.

Annabeth wouldn't know about them, having spent most of her life on the run and then sequestered at camp, but it's entirely possible Percy or maybe even Grover might've seen Dean and Sam's mugshots somewhere or something. Percy can't be too quick to judge based on that alone considering his own dodgy record, but still it does warrant concern.

Imagine- from the Winchesters' end it sounds like there's weirdly consistent descriptions tied to rumors of kids disappearing or involved in almost inexplicable altercations. From the kids' perspective it's running into weird guys who seem to be a little too aware of the things most people ignore with the mist, while they're on an important quest away from camp.

They could bump into each other a few different times on the road before either one group finally decides to confront the other, or they end up in the same battle. Maybe the brothers save them in a fight, maybe it's the other way around and the kids (especially Annabeth) end up doing the rescuing instead. I don't know, it could be interesting and funny both ways. Let's just say they take turns.

Or alternatively, maybe the halfbloods just happen to pull up to some random town diner or motel, near flat broke and at least a little bloody, running from a monster the Winchesters also happen to be tracking, or vice-versa you could have the brothers arrive somewhere chasing a monster the kids happen to already be running from, and the conversation starts from there, with Sam leading with a few careful questions.

Naturally, when he realizes they're the direct target of the attacks and that it'll probably continue that way if not get worse, Dean frets over them even more, because he's a good guy like that, and then he accidentally ends up semi-adopting the gang, or at the very least reluctantly cross-country taxi driving this group of insanely powerful but scary young demigods (and a satyr)- who apparently have superpowers and their own magic weapons made of a special monster-killing celestial bronze- he should see about adding that to the arsenal- while Sam asks all kinds of questions about Greek monsters and the gods, updating and expanding on his notes, initial enthusiasm quickly tempered by increasing alarm.

They can also bond by angsting over shitty parents, hell knows Dean would immediately cave and take them all under his wing for that alone.

I think it could be an interesting parallel between the hunters and the hunted. Both tormented by monsters and unable/unwilling to give up the fight, and in Sam's case he could also relate to the whole "being haunted by visions" thing. I also imagine Percy and Annabeth's flaws of unwavering loyalty and pride respectively might make an interesting match with the themes of Supernatural. Plus I'm a sucker for found family tropes that follow their own unique dynamics and don't try to just mirror a weird, idealized, suburban nuclear family unit.

edit: Oh! Also Dean hates airplanes and Percy can't do flying because of the whole Zeus wanting to kill him thing

[pinksilvace]

people will really draw anything but what they're supposed to (I'm people)

[rukibur]

I’ve been thinking about tf2 and genshin impact lately and decided to assign some genshin characters tf2 mains, along with a few tf2 related headcanons

So here are some of my ideas in a pretty lengthy text post

Also note: some of these might be kinda ooc or like me accidentally misinterpreting someone. In which I am very sorry I haven’t touched genshin in a really long time D:

List is organized in who I think is the most accurate to least accurate

Alhaitham

- Sniper main

- Would be drawn to sniper’s simple playstyle. For the most part, all you need to play sniper is to be able to click on moving targets.

- No cosmetics, or strange weapons. Just stock and probably F2P.

- Doesn’t have in-game chat or voice chat on.

- Accidentally pubstomps and because he doesn’t talk in chat or have any hats, gets kicked for people believing he’s either a cheater or bot.

- Loadout: full stock

Cyno

- Scout main

- Would enjoy scout’s simple hit-and-run playstyle. A powerful—albeit fragile—mobile class, which basically allows him to run around the map and pick his fights.

- Probably has a full strange loadout, along with an unusual hat and australium scattergun that he adores. There probably a few taunts in his inventory as well.

- Can absolutely pubstomp games, and plays for a sixes team.

- Uses a minimal hud.

- Loadout: full stock, australium scattergun

Tighnari

- Medic main

- Would join a match, see that the team has zero medics, and decide to be that medic.

- Doesn’t really care for hats. Cyno has probably gifted him a few though.

- Plays the game casually for the most part. Sometimes subs in if Cyno’s medic player can’t play though.

- Uses an improved version of the default hud.

- Loadout: crusader’s crossbow, quick-fix, solemn-vow

Kaveh

- Engineer main

- Would enjoy engineer’s supportive playstyle, along with how he can be more aggressive if he needs to be.

- Has probably bought a hat or two, maybe even a taunt. Not much, but something he likes.

- Everytime his nest gets taken down or just any of his buildings get sapped and destroyed, a small piece of him dies inside.

- Has made his very own hud and uses it.

- Loadout: rescue ranger/panic attack, pistol/wrangler, wrench

Klee

- Pyro main

- As much as I wanted to say that she would be a demoman main, I just know deep down she would be a pyro main. Simple and easy to pick up playstyle, along with just me thinking she would really like pyro as a character.

- Had Kaeya buy her a lollichop. Happily wears her gibus and absolutely adores her rainblower that she got from a random drop.

- LOVES the pyroland effect. The first time she played with it she had the most fun, burning her enemies with literal rainbows.

- Like friendlies and joins them most of the time.

- Loadout: rainblower, scorch shot, lollichop

Childe / Tartaglia

- Demoman / Soldier main

- Considering how much he likes fighting, it probably shouldn’t be a surprise that he’d most likely main the classes that can dish out the most damage.

- Doesn’t really care for hats. But he probably had bought strange weapons just to track kills. Could buy an australium but finds them kind of gaudy.

- Plays in both highlander and sixes. Likes to mainly play in casual but sometimes joins on uncletopia.

- The classes he has the most trouble playing besides medic is spy.

- Has optimized has graphics in order to get as much fps as possible. To the point where if you just looked at his gameplay you could mistake him as a spy main.

- Soldier loadout: rocket launcher / original, gunboats, escape plan

- Demoman loadout: full stock

Itto

- Scout main

- Itto just found him cool and wanted to main him. That’s just it.

- F2P, and mostly relies on item drops and crafting to get new stuff. But he does get a lot of stuff from his friend (I wonder who that could be…)

- Leader of the Arataki Gang, an amateur sixes team.

- Plays on uncletopia to try and better his gameplay, but also enjoys playing in random community servers

- Loadout: scattergun, winger, holy mackerel

Hu Tao

- Spy main

- Mainly plays spy to do stuff like scaring engineers and backcap points.

- Has only spent money on taunts, like the boxtrot.

- Generally messes around on casual and community servers.

- One of her favorite things to do is spam voicelines around engineers to make them paranoid.

- Loadout: L’Etranger, Clock and dagger, Knife

Diluc

- Heavy main

- Honestly idk for this one. I wanted a heavy main and Diluc just kinda has the vibe.

- Bought a key and a crate and unboxed a hat. Doesn’t really care much for the economy, just likes playing the game.

- Has the absolute easiest time flanking as heavy. Doesn’t matter which map, apparently everyone he plays against plays the game on silent with no monitor because he can just walk into their backlines.

- Used to play highlander, but eventually lost interest and just plays casually. Can pubstomp if he wants to though.

- Loadout: Tomislav, sandvich, fists

Dori

- Spy main

- Doesn’t even really play the game, only there for the economy.

- Has a ton of unusual hats and taunts. Probably has a golden pan or two.

- Has been banned from a few trade servers for “scamming”.

[couldcarefewer]

i am once again begging Yellowjackets fans to check out FantasticLand

[vibesaresimplyatrocious]

Can I just say that I adore the universe you’ve created and I am so interested in ALL of these characters. I adore spideydevil but I would read an entire novel length fic about any of the characters in this; Ned, MJ, Jess/Luke/Claire, Foggy and whatever is going on between him and Matt, Karen and Frank even 😅. Hell, I’d even read an entire The Office style fic about the inner workings of The Daily Bugle in this universe I’m so goddamn committed. Everything you write is pure gold and I am living for it.

deeply and profoundly tempted by the idea of a mockumentary style take on the daily bugle. peter just shows up in the background once or twice and is very obviously trying to hide cocaine

[arolesbianism]

Don’t look at me (not a vent dw)

Yukina looking exactly like her siblings compilation (<- is so normal and not deranged (<- lying))

[eznii]

@davekatweek day 5: crossover

this has been sitting in my brain ever since @notedchampagne talked about their own au like FOREVER ago (check them out as well!!! they are so normal and awesome ^^) anyway its a the locked tomb au where karkat takes the place of harrow as a necromancer of ninth house and dave takes gideons place as his cavalier (<- horrible). they are both so cringefail that i think it would be THE funniest shit ever

locked tomb spoilers (for maybe all 3 books i dont remember whats revealed in each one lol) under the cut + more art

go read locked tomb if you havent already!!!!!

OK well first of all im just going to put a screenshot of sams tltstuck idea here because its perfect and captures every thought i had about this

second of all... i just HAD to draw lyctor!karkat because i genuinely believe that becoming one would be the worst thing that could ever happen to him <33 hes not having a good time at ALL (just as an fyi i forget if he would have both eyes be red or just one as a lyctor. but whatever is the worse option 👍)

also as a side effect of dave being in gideons place i think that makes bro/dirk = god.......which is SO fitting but also horrible. anyways heres some extra variations without text

[pedge-page]

omg imagine PK x Plushies i love you so much girl you are amazing

Plushies x Piss Kink Crossover - Joel Miller x F!Reader

Notes: The crossover that was bound to happen and its HEREREEEEEEEE. This is more Plushies!verse setting and they discover a lil piss kink.

Warnings: PissKink, Plushies humping, yes we are peeing on the plush, premature ejaculation, assisted male masturbation, crying, jealous!Joel, and a HINT (just a bit) of sub!Joel at the end

18+ ONLY

- - - -

“What’s this one? Benny the Buffalo?” Joel asks, staring down at the brown fuzzy stuffed animal in his hands.

“No, dummy, that’s Biscuit, the Bison,” you retort, not even looking at him as you continue reading.

The two of you are lying down on your new “shared” bed, and Joel has decided its time he get to know his roommates on first name basis.

“Course. And this?” He snatches the white rabbit next. “BunBun?”

“Carrot.”

“Appropriate. How about Ghosty over here?”

“Casper.”

“How original. Aaaannnddd....?” He shoves the next one in your face to get your attention: a fat baby chick with an enormous orange bill.

“Mr Quakers,” you answer matter-of-factly.

“I bet he’s loads of fun on that little nub of yours,” he snickers. He tosses the poor chick like a free-throw basketball across the room.

He grabs the next one, buried waaaay in the back of your bed under all the rest. “Alright, Let me guess… Hammy the Hamster.”

“No that’s—“ you take one look at the one currently in his palms: a medium sized hamster with bitty hands and a large head as big as his squat body. Quickly hiding your shocked expressions, you go back to your book and say very casually, “Um…that’s… Frank.”

“Frank?”

“Mhm.”

“Just Frank.”

“Yup.”

“Frank the Hamster. How does that make sense?”

“Well I didn’t name him.”

“And who did?"

You swallow, wondering why Joel’s got so many goddamn questions about the naming conventions of your stuffed animals. “Um … Frank did…”

“Stuck up fella, naming the thing after him. Who was this “Frank” then. Your uncle? Was he as perverted as me?”

“No. Frank’s… my ex.”

Your face feels hot, avoiding his gaze and trying to look anywhere but at him. 

Joel stares at you with an unreadable expression, then back to the fisted squishy hamster plush. He contemplates for what feels like an eternity. There’s an uneasy silence hanging in the air, and your heart is beating out of your chest, wondering what he may be thinking about those word resonating in his ears.

He clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth into diamonds while looking at something so extremely soft and huggable. You hope maybe he’ll just dropkick it out the window at worst, but instead: 

“Hands and knees on the floor. We’re fucking Frankie the Hamster tonight.”

-

There was no “we”. What he really meant was YOU are fucking Frank the Hamster tonight, and he is pinning you down and forcing you to grind on it harder.

“Joel—that—feels… uncomfortable.”

He’s not rubbing his cock along your ass, or nudging your clit or kissing you. Instead, he’s caged you between the thick mass of his sold body and the hamster on the floor, your legs spread out with his knees along the inside of your calves to keep them open.

He keeps rubbing along your pelvis, palm digging into the squishy part right below your belly, pressing hard against your bladder.

“Joel,” you warn again. Your legs quiver with the rapid build, too afraid to push him off entirely. He’s steaming, that’s for sure, but why torture you above the little helpless guy?

“S’matter? You don’t like rubbing your slutty pussy over your ex’s face?”

“It’s just a stuffed animal—ow!�� You cry as Joel pinches your nipple through your shirt.

“You grind on Frankie’s face before?”

“N-no. Never,” you swear. 

“Mmm. Not sure I believe you, sweet pea. Kept him all these years, didn’t ya?”

You shake your head, too afraid to face him. You really hadn’t been grinding on the hamster ever. In fact, you nearly forgetting of his existence until Joel fished him up while asking everyone’s name. 

He forces your back to arch even more drastically, putting more pressure between your naked cunt and the soft squish bellow you. You furrow your brows, fear creeping between your spread legs, unable to clench against something to brush off the mounting pressure in you.

“Joel please—I really need to go...” you didn't want to finish the sentences. He wasn't pleasuring with his hands you in the right places so much as building pressure in the wrong one.

“Go where? I’m all you need. Right. Here.” His fingers dig possessively into your side while his other hand pushes into your lower belly.

You shake your head again. Heart racing now that you no longer care about your pleasure and are more concerned with the mess of forbidden bodily fluids you’re about to rain all over your poor Frankie—

It hits you with burning desire mixed with an irksome bile. You gasp out angrily. 

This. Mother. Fucking. Asshole.

Joel smirks into your neck behind you, as if reading your mind figuring out his evil little plan. 

“S’wrong, angel? Would you rather be doing this with any of MY plushies I’ve spoiled you with?”

“I—you—“ you grit your teeth, eyes closing as a wave of panic washes deep through your core. You’re desperate not to make a mess, a fool of yourself to tame his sadistic need to own every inch of control over you.

He hears the little staggered pants from your lips. “Do it,” he commands softly but with finality, laced with a sadistic “win” for him.

A tear slips down your cheek as you moan sadly, your stomach giving up and unclenching as the walls of your bladder breaks, and hot urine spills into the stuffed animal’s face currently wedged so tightly against your entrance. 

“Shhhhhh,” he coos, finally grinding himself against your ass. He can hear the feint rushing liquid of your piss splatting into the cotton. 

He presses you further into its plush softness, suffocating every inch of your crotch so that it absorbs all the nasty warm juice squeezing out of you like a lemon. Your legs quiver violently as you can’t help but release more and more, flowing out as if by his demand and feeling the poor plush get heavy with the rush filling its cotton innards up.

"Naughty girl, am I making you piss all over your ex's face? Little Frankie doesn't deserve that does he?" He taunts, fully well intending for this to exactly happen as he wanred.

There’s so much, and another tear slips passed you, but this one because it feels so—relieving. It’s gross and nasty, embarrassing and heartbreaking all at once, and it makes you hump against him and the dampened hamster even more. 

Joel feel the quickened breaths coming out desperately from your nose as you grind down on the defiled thing all soaked up with your own piss. Your hips are frantic, smothering your cunt with the piss-logged plush desperately, as if you were trying to...

“Shit—are you…?”

You cry out in response, mouth agape with satisfied groans when you clit catches along the wet seams just right and you find yourself cumming on the sad wet thing drowned below you.

Joel clears his throat in surprise. His cock pulses on its own and floods the inside of his pants in white strings of his seed.

Did he think you would probably cry? Yes.

Did he want you to pee and destroy your ex’s little gift to you? Yes.

Did he expect you to fucking cum from it? Um.

Did he know HE would cum from it??? No. Definitely not. 

His teeth grind against one another trying not to think about how perverted he is, pulling away from you so you can’t feel his sticky spent through his trousers and on to your back. 

The squishy lump below you begins seeping the now cooled piss into the floor boards. You sigh deeply, not sure what to do now that your little punishment has turned into—something wilder.

You feel a gentle kiss along your cheek, his thumb caressing away your tears.

“That was hot,” He admits plainly.

You cover your face to hide your smile. It’s gross. It really is. Should be embarrassing. You don’t even want to think about the hamster on the floor, the memories you’ve just soddened with your own fucking piss. 

He helps you off the floor. Your thighs still shake, the uncomfortable feeling hanging there in disgust now that you’re mentally sober again.

He guides you to the shower where you both wash up quietly.

“Um—listen I didn’t… I don’t know why you would keep your ex’s stuff but…I mean I’m reasonably… it doesn’t make me feel great, so ya can’t blame me, for getting jealous—“

You shut him up but tugging against his half hard cock.

“First of all,” you say, the sudden boldness in your voice blanking his mind into submission under your touch.

“That plush, was from my first boyfriend—in high school. We dated for 2 months,” you continued, your fingers gripping his base with a gentle squeeze, feeling him swell to full mass, “and then he realized he liked boys. That was it. We laughed about it and stayed good friends. He gave me the stuffed animal as a parting gift to college for helping him through it all.”

You stop rubbing his cock and Joel opens his eyes. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“So…Frank’s just… a friend…”

You kiss his collarbone. “Just a friend,” you repeat.

The water coats his back soothingly. An ache that had formed in his muscles, the strain of aggression tickling his brain from the minute he heard you had a stuffed animal named after your ex, still in your bed after years, had suddenly vanished. 

“Why—why would you say hes your ex and not just your old friend? Why'd ya let me make you do that to it?” He asks, concerned now that he’s ruined something sentimental to you over his quickness to jealousy.

“Because—“ you nip along the swell of his chest, both hands working along his hardened cock. “You wanted it.” Your thumb swipes along his tip, the precum feeling sticky despite the shower water drenching you. 

He moans, head falling into your shoulder as he thrusts his length into your palm. 

As your wrist continues to jerk him off, your lips ghost the shell of his ear with a deadly, lascivious whisper: 

“And I’m too crazy for you to say no.”

- - - -

Permanent Taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

[holllandtrash]

secret admin | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x reader

mclaren admin is a swiftie and she may or not be dating lando as well, hard to say (so many taylor swift references in this one, not gna apologize for it)

mclaren

liked by yourusername, f1 and 613,551 others

tagged: landonorris

mclaren graphic design is my passion

view all 13,688 comments

landonorris that's a lot of hearts

mclaren we have a lot of love for you lando sebisking 'we' as if it's not just one person who runs this account and is in love with lando

hamiltonred mclaren's really out here playing favorites huh?

mclaren oscar piastri appreciation post coming soon dont worry

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, mclaren and 3,326 others

yourusername call it what you want

view all 197 comments

yourbestfriend we get it, you're a swiftie

yourusername all hail the queen

oscarpiastri nice caption

yourusername 🫡🫡

landonorris added to their story

landonorris added to their story

story has been deleted

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, pierregasly and 2,981 others

yourusername state of grace

danielricciardo as if you're allowed to put your feet on the dash, i was never allowed to do that

yourusername i'm more lovable danielricciardo impossible

oscarpiastri second pic looks kinda familar..🤔🤔

yourbestfriend oscar's saying what we're all thinking yourusername i don’t know what you’re talking about

yourusername added to their story

interview clip

mclaren

liked by yourusername, f1 and 447, 983 others

tagged: landonorris

mclaren lando norris thirst trap coming in hot🥵🥵🥵

view all 35,009 comments

landonorris do you even know what thirst trap means

mclaren do YOU?

paddockgf the mclaren insta is just turning into a lando fanpage at this point

yourusername woah

danielricciardo you didn't post this? yourusername i dont know what you're talking about buddy, im just a lando norris/taylor swift stan account

landonorris added to their story

oscarpiastri added to their story

landonorris

liked by yourusername, mclaren and 317, 839 others

landonorris the face of a man who just spent the last hour trying to understand the folklore love triangle

view all 4,122 comments

yourusername it's not that complicated

oscarpiastri yeah it's not that complicated

mclaren it's not that complicated, lando

paddockgf im living for this f1 and taylor swift crossover

hamiltonbaby at least this is confirmation that y/n and lando are friends(?)

jemmaf1 but when do we get confirmation that they're DATING sunnystroll the whole world knows it at this point

yourusername added to their story

landonorris

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 538,991 others

tagged: yourusername

landornorris are we out of the woods yet

view all 5,672 comments

yourusername a taylor swift caption AND a dumb but cute reaction pic?? i think i love you🥺

landonorris you better landonorris 💜💜💜

oscarpiastri 10/10 caption mate

mclaren wait so is she admin

landonorris is she admin yourusername yourusername what does that mean paddockgf you guys are the WORST (but also the cutest)

yourusername

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 11,328 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername lover 💕

view all 1,291 comments

landonorris have you ever thought about NOT using taylor swift lyrics as captions?

yourusername thats illegal

standbyseb still waiting for an admin reveal

yourusername oscar runs the mclaren account mclaren yes oscarpiastri no

requests are open

who should i do next for a secret admin au 🤔🤔

[wynnyfryd]

🎵 Troll Toll 🎵

written for the @steddiemicrofic January prompt: ‘hole,’ 404 words | rated M | tags: future fic, crossover, crack treated ridiculously @griefabyss69 i hope you’re proud of yourself

Steve’s gonna kill Dustin.

Earlier this afternoon, on day five of visiting the kid in his new city (nevermind that Dustin’s pushing forty with two kids of his own; he’s always a kid to Steve), Eddie had started grumbling about how he wanted to see the real Philadelphia, not this “Liberty Bell Nic Cage pro America sanitized bullshit!” or whatever the fuck he liked to ramble about ever since his band got paid to do a commercial for Obama, and Dustin, who’d spent a month meticulously curating their tour of Philly’s finest cultural establishments, had rolled his eyes hard and pointed them toward a shady little Irish pub and hollered, “Fine! You want the real Philly? Go find her, you ungrateful dickheads, I’m going home!”

Which is how they found themselves here, at the worst goddamn musical Steve has ever seen.

“So, uh… just to be. So clear,” Eddie starts, dead-eyed stare into the middle distance as they filter out of the auditorium, the performers still screeching at each other loud enough to hear them from the sidewalk. He jams his thumb into the space between his furrowed brows. “Did I just take us to a play about child molestation? Is that- is that what just-?”

….Yeah.

Yeah, he definitely did — Steve’s pretty sure the little alcoholic guy who invited them to this thing spent most of act two singing about a boy’s hole — but Eddie looks as pale as the pair of goth weirdos standing behind them, so Steve aims for casual. Slurps the last of his Diet Coke and shrugs, “No, I think it was about, like, personal growth and shit.”

Eddie does not look reassured.

Behind him, the goth girl smacks a creepy balding guy upside the head and spits in a thick European accent, “Colin Robinson, why the hell did you bring us all the way to this terrible city just to watch this stee-upid bloody musical?”

“Oh, I don’t know, dahling,” the equally pale and dramatic man to her left chimes in, “I thought the Dayman reprise was, ah-rrRiveting-uh.”

Jesus Christ. Fucking theater people.

The balding guy doesn’t answer, but Steve swears he sees his eyes flash blue, and okay. Yeah, he’s had enough of the real city now, thank you very fucking much.

“Come on,” he says in a hush, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and trying his best to not freak out. “I’m calling us a cab.”

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 26

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

First chapter || << Previous chapter || Next chapter >>

---

The rest of the visit at the Wayne Manor was more relaxed, or at least Jason thought so. He wouldn’t forget Jazz’s tense shoulders while they listened to Danny’s explanation of Jazz’s actual role in the Infinite Realms.

Was she tense because she hated being an executioner? Because she found that dreadful?

He wasn’t sure, and the doubt was capable of consuming him — did she really understand him, what he tried to do for Gotham, or was she projecting her own insecurities in him and wanted him to “reform” like she seemed to be doing with herself? Because it didn’t escape him how she went from such a violence-heavy role to completely focusing on reforming Gotham rogues.

If all Jazz could see in him was a pet project to “fix” in any way, he knew it would completely crush him. After all they’ve been through, there was still doubt that any of this was real. That what they had was real.

No. He had to try. To believe.

He still felt shaken after the rapidfire revelations one after the other — Jazz was the Crown Princess of another dimension, the Spirit of Gotham was Bruce’s mom, Jazz’s actual job was scarily close to his, and the personification of fear wanted to marry his girlfriend. He knew he would be thinking about all of this, and come back to every little detail, that night while he was supposed to sleep.

He just knew.

Especially because when he closed his eyes, he could see Danny’s haunted eyes when he pulled him aside to talk.

He expected a shovel talk, he expected vague threats from a caring brother, or maybe a rundown of what it means to consort a Princess.

He didn’t expect what actually happened.

“My sister… Please keep an eye on her. I wasn’t kidding when I said she takes the bad stuff and deals with it on her own,” he smirked, acknowledging that he knew the couple had been eavesdropping, “but what I didn’t say is how she disregards her own wellbeing.”

“I’ve noticed.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Jazz self-destructs, she… It’s almost as if she punishes herself for wanting more. Maybe, I don’t know, maybe I’m reading too much into it; but she is always so quick to accept the worst and plans for it without thinking that things could just… Work out. It doesn’t help that things have been hard for us for so long – self fulfilled prophecy?” He chuckled. “I’m more aware of things than she gives me credit for.”

Jason kept his gaze straight ahead, watching the rest play in the backyard, a tiny green dog — Cujo — running around and imprinting on Damian almost immediately.

“She loves you.”

“I know.”

“She lied to me for you.” Danny looked at him funny. “I’m not saying it's your fault or anything. Just observing. She was ready to face the Justice League over a misunderstanding rather than telling the truth.”

Danny hummed, storing the new piece of information.

“She would make rivers of blood to protect you.”

Danny stayed quiet, so quiet that Jason assumed the conversation was over.

“She already has.” Danny’s voice was small. “One time, she was sent with an entourage as a political representative to an ambivalent community, to negotiate their alliance. Or find out if they would support Vlad. She came back a few weeks later, alone, and covered in blood. She only said that we didn’t need to worry about those people anymore.

Her wounds were fatal, and we don’t know how she not only survived but made the trip back. The funny part? I think that incident marks the beginning of her descent into the executioner role she finally took. It was almost as if— She was changed. I could see it. My worries were confirmed when I got word that the city she had visited had been burned to the ground. No one ever found any remains, of either faction. Just blood and rubble.”

“Darling?”

“Hmm?”

He looked down, finding the teal eyes of his girlfriend. It was the same face, the same eyes, the same worried expression.

A few weeks ago, she was the woman he was so scared to reveal himself to. Now, she was so much more. It felt silly to worry about what she would think about his other life, how she went from “just” being the girl he was interested in to whatever they were now.

He couldn’t see her in the same way. Not after learning what he knew now.

“Are you okay?” Her cold hand was on his cheek. When did she move? “You’ve been quiet.”

He kicked himself in his mind for worrying her. It’s just… After saying their goodbyes and getting on the road back to their apartment building, he started to let his mind wander and hadn’t come back to the present yet.

They were in front of her door, the fluorescent lights illuminating Jazz’s face looking up at him.

“Sorry.”

She bit her lip. “Don’t say sorry. No blood, no fault.”

“Har har,” he smirked, leaning down for a quick kiss. “Smart-ass.”

She giggled. All thoughts and doubts left him as he let himself bask in the moment.

He leaned in for a kiss, smiling when she got on the tip of her toes to meet him halfway, her arms sneaking around his neck to keep him there.

Her kiss was the same. Her smell was the same. Her touch, and the way his hands fit on her waist, was the same.

She was the same person, he reminded himself. Even if every answer he got only opened more questions, Jazz was still here with him, and she still wanted him.

The door opened behind Jazz, and Jason had to quickly grab the door frame to prevent the pair from falling to the ground.

“Time to sleep.” Danny was there, arms crossed, a small smirk on his face. He enjoyed his sister’s grumble and annoyance. The little shit.

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighed, turning to look at her boyfriend. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

She looked so uncertain and hopeful. Did she think he would run?

“Of course.” He gave her another quick kiss, smiling when she giggled.

He nodded at Danny as they parted. He nodded back, his smirk turning something more dangerous for a second, but back to a normal smile when Jazz passed by as she went inside the apartment.

Jason stayed an extra second, waiting to see what Danny had to say.

“Goodnight, Jason.”

He arched an eyebrow, expecting anything but that. He took it anyway. “Goodnight.”

With that, Danny almost slammed the door shut in his face. Jason scoffed and went back to his own apartment, still reeling from everything that happened.

He only turned on the kitchen light, got some coffee started — if he wasn’t going to sleep, why the hell not — and opened the fridge to see what leftovers he could quickly reheat for dinner.

With a warm cup and some food, he sat down on his shitty couch and turned on the TV to have background noise to think and organize his thoughts. It was some stupid procedural show, mainly focused on criminal psychology, something he knew Jazz would love.

He chuckled, sighed and put the half eaten leftovers on the coffee table.

He wasn’t that hungry anymore.

Why did he feel like this? It didn’t make sense — it wasn’t like it was the first time he was involved with people with superhuman abilities and a complicated past. Back when he was Robin, he had gone with Bruce to the Watchtower more than once and met enough members of the Justice League. And after his resurrection he had been involved with the Al Ghuls, who were irreversibly affected by the Lazarus Pits.

No. This was different.

Jazz was… She was supposed to be a civilian. The one normal thing in his life. He agonized over telling her about his other life, but deep down he wanted to have something that made him feel less like he was adrift in life, drowning, feeling like his only purpose had become vigilantism.

He wasn’t stupid. Jazz’s status as a meta was something he knew early on, and the way she had been hinting at some kind of hero's life was ironic, but he could handle it.

I couldn’t give you normal even if I tried.

She warned him. She told him she wasn’t sure that their relationship should happen at all. She told him she risked a lot to be involved with him, and that it wasn’t in her plans at all to love him.

He’s different. We clicked.

She told Danny that what they had was different, and he believed her.

Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms. Warrior. Executioner.

Jazz had no place playing human in Gotham, making friends, enduring shitty bosses, having a human boyfriend.

What he understood from what the siblings explained, her actual life was a fantasy story like the ones from his childhood books – with Kings and dragons and magic and insane stakes.

A tiny part of him resented her, he discovered.

Jason leaned forward and put his head between his hands, the stupid show on TV forgotten.

Why did she involve him in this? She knew the kind of burden she would put on anybody she dated, at least anybody she was interested enough to involve in her true life. How could she think she could just give him hopes and love him and then… then what? Did she plan on leaving without an explanation when her internship ended? Was she okay with breaking up, making up a shitty excuse to feed him hoping he eventually forgot about her?

She said she planned on telling him, but how much really? How much would she have told him if Bruce didn’t poke things he wasn’t supposed to?

He refused to feel grateful about what the old man did, he still treated Jazz poorly and jeopardized a lot of people’s existence in Gotham; but it was difficult to let go of the thought that if Barbara hadn’t looked, if Bruce hadn’t confronted her like he had been too much of a coward to do… That Jazz would have fed him half truths and lies by omission to protect Danny up until the day they parted ways.

His eyes felt a little damp. He blinked the moisture away and pressed the palm of his hands against his eyes until he saw stars.

No. This is ridiculous.

Jazz was very smart in many ways — she guessed everyone’s secret identities after all — but she could be so dumb about so many things too. He remembered their fight, how her voice changed when she admitted she didn’t know why or how she loved him. He thought about how she could remain oblivious to a guy crushing on her for years. He thought about Danny’s admission that Jazz tended to be too harsh on herself and set unnecessary hard limits.

He could believe that Jazz’s living in Gotham was a little experiment, a game of pretend that she was going to eventually end no matter who was hurt in the process, or…

Or he could believe that she was winging it so hard she contradicted herself all the time. That she was used to putting others above herself so much that she didn’t consider the possibility she didn’t have to end things. That there was no game, no further motives, no plan.

That the Princess of the Ghosts loved him, and she felt as lost as he did.

He breathed in, trying to calm down his racing thoughts.

It was useless to ponder and guess what her motives were, if she had them at all. They said they’d enjoy what they had while they still could, and going by what they learned that day, Danny gave the OK for them to be together — in a very strange and convoluted way, that is. And from what he overheard, Danny was this all powerful entity that made the rules.

A loud thud interrupted his thoughts, followed by his girlfriend’s voice screaming Danny’s name.

He smiled, picking up his food and considering finishing the rest of it. It was probably cold, so he decided not to. Instead, he picked up his coffee and the remote and decided to change channels, looking for something that didn’t require a lot of brainpower and maybe fall asleep to.

It didn’t help that everything either reminded him of Jazz, or thought it was something she’d enjoy.

***

Sunday was uneventful.

He decided to sleep in, pushing away the thought that sleeping alone never felt so cold before. He was being ridiculous. Everything about the situation was ridiculous.

He stayed in bed as long as his hungry stomach allowed him to, going over every conversation, every touch, every look. Trying to organize the new information and memorize every piece of detail, unsure of when exactly he’d have another opportunity to gather so much about the siblings’ secrets.

He allowed himself a few moments to burn the visual of Jazz wearing her armor in his memory. She looked comfortable in it, powerful, and very inhuman. Nobody brought it up at the moment, but she glowed when she wore it. It was subtle under the daylight, and next to the living light bulb that was Danny in his King form she didn’t stand out; but he had been distracted by the way everything about her had a bit of supernatural glow that separated her from the humans in the room.

It was different knowing all he knew and seeing it for himself.

Liminality. He wondered what else he still had to learn about her. What else he had to learn about himself, too. Going by how much information the Fentons gave him and after… After Jazz gave him pure ectoplasm, he was sure to expect some kind of change.

He hoped he found time to talk to Danny about the topic, and maybe coordinate a visit to these yetis they kept talking about.

The situation was ridiculous, but might as well embrace it. He had been The Chosen One for a secret sect of warriors oathbound to rid the world of an ancient evil — he could take whatever The Infinite Realms threw at him.

The rest of the day was relatively quiet, if you take into consideration the noises coming from his neighbor’s apartment — seriously, what were the walls made of? Paper? — and Jazz and Danny’s voices when they left in the afternoon for dinner. Jazz texted him a few times asking how he was and sending a few pictures of stray cats she saw while out with Danny. It was cute.

But he also had messages from his goons that they had some information about the Black Clovers gang. Finally.

He informed them that he would be around the base to discuss what they found. They better have something good, because he really needed to get these guys out of his turf. They threatened Jazz. Well, not her specifically, but they were looking for a redhead woman that helped Red Hood, with the vague description those guys Jazz fought a few months ago gave.

So long had changed since that fateful day. For starters, it was imperative he stopped these guys from going after his girlfriend.

And he couldn’t tell her.

Jazz was dead set on trying to be normal. She came to Gotham deadset (heh) on living a normal civilian life, and she got involved in this mess because of him. She didn't need to worry about something like this, especially since he was going to make sure the Black Clovers never had a chance to find her if he could help it.

He ate a quick dinner and got ready for tonight, geared up and jumped out of the window to the adjacent rooftop — he spared a glance at the place from where he had watched Jazz like a creep for a whole afternoon. What an idiot he had been, suspecting her like that. He shook his head.

He looked down at the street when he heard approaching voices, finding Jazz and Danny walking towards the apartment, probably coming back from their dinner.

Jazz looked happy as she listened to her brother talk, nodding along his story and a small smile curving her lips. This was a side he hadn’t seen yet — how she carried herself differently than when she was alone, how she kept one eye in every dark corner, every shadow. She was Danny’s protector, even if the other probably didn’t need such protection.

Both stopped walking once they reached the entrance of the building, but instead of getting inside, the siblings looked up – looked at him — at the same time with the same eerie eyes reflecting the street lights like a cat’s.

He chuckled, waving a hand at both. Danny rolled his eyes and Jazz waved back with a big smile, her cheeks slightly red. Cute.

With a slight nod, he turned back to continue his way to his base, and did his best to not look back and check she was still looking at him.

***

Jazz held her gaze on the rooftop, waiting to see if he turned back, but he never did.

She sighed.

“You are ridiculous.”

She rolled her eyes at her brother. “Oh, shut up.”

“This is worse to watch than the thing with Johnny.”

“Johnny happened so long ago, don’t be an idiot.” Danny opened his mouth to protest. “Eh, eh, eh. I was sixteen. You can’t judge me.”

“And you judged me for Paulina.”

She lifted her chin. “Deserved it~”

Danny scoffed, but didn’t add anything else.

The walk to the elevator was quiet. Jazz played with her keys, wondering where Jason was going, and if she could wait up and see if she could glimpse the vigilante passing by on his patrol route. Maybe she was being ridiculous, feeling this giddy about her boyfriend.

“Jazz.”

She looked at her brother, humming in question.

He looked back with serious eyes. “We need to talk.” She blinked, not really knowing what warranted this. “You have to tell me what happened with Batman.”

She froze, but tried to play it cool. She made time walking out of the elevator when they got to her floor, and continued towards her apartment without saying anything.

“Jazz. You know you have to.”

“There’s not a lot to say — he found some documents and I tried to fill in the blanks as best as I could.”

Danny grabbed her hand when she pulled out her keys to open the door. “Bullshit.” She wasn’t sure what kind of face she was making, but Danny’s expression softened. “I need to know, Jazz. As your brother and as the King.”

She closed her eyes and nodded.

He let her go and open the door, walking in after her. Neither bothered with the light switch, allowing the soft light of the full moon coming from the curtainless window to be enough for their conversation.

Jazz felt a sensation of déjà vu when she sat down on her couch and Danny pulled a chair to sit across the coffee table. It was another apartment, another situation; but she still had to give explanations about roughly the same things.

When would this nightmare end?

She licked her lips and got ready to talk.

“It started last week. Jason and I went on a date — our first official date —” she smiled when her brother made a face “and it was in the middle of a massive Arkham breakout.”

Danny nodded. “Unsurprising.”

“Yeah. So, he needed to go back to the fight and our date was interrupted. I waited up — no, shut up, let me finish — and he finally showed up. He was half dead and losing it and I really thought he was done for.”

“And you used your vials.”

“I did, and he got better.” She nodded. “But Batman wasn’t that far behind. He found us, and he found out I knew about them, and we… we kind of had a fight.”

“You fought Batman?” Danny was amused.

“No… Not really. I managed to kick him out without an actual fight, but he just,” she pulled her hair back, frustrated, “he couldn’t let things go. Apparently, he and Oracle — yeah, that Oracle —” she nodded “joined forces and researched us. All of it, Danny. I don’t know how the Ancients they managed to get some of that stuff, I’m positive Tucker had tight security.”

Danny’s back straightened. “He does. He was.” He narrowed his eyes. This was a huge breach of security. Both knew that measurements will be taken about this. “Tell me everything.”

She leaned forward, placing her arms on her knees, looking down and avoiding her brother’s eyes.

“Batman — Bruce waited for me, and found me at Arkham, when I would be alone, and ambushed me with two more of their colony accompanying him.”

Danny’s eyes were glowing bright green when she looked up. She swallowed. After such a nice weekend she had to relive all that happened earlier in the week, and she feared his reaction.

“Go on. And spare no detail.”

---

First chapter || << Previous chapter || Next chapter >>

Back to Main Archive

Back to Danny Phantom Archive

Just a normal link to support me (if you want)

[writeforfandoms]

Island - 1

Find the series masterlist

Here we are with a new series! I know, I know. I couldn't resist. This is a crossover with Ark: Survival Evolved but I don't think you need to know anything about the games beyond dinosaurs. And ice age critters.

You've been on the Island for a long time, and been alone for a while. So when you find a group of four men clearly new to the Island, you figure you'll take them under your wing.

After all, what's the worst that can happen?

Eventual Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x f!reader

Word count: 4k

The first body was easy to spot, laying in the open on his back. He still had his clothes on, at least, sturdy-looking boots catching your eye with a twist of envy. 

The one beyond him was a little harder to spot, in the shade and wearing dark clothes also, so he blended better. 

Pulling Bessie to a halt, you slid down and patted her side, murmuring for her to stay put. A long stick was easy to find, and you approached the first man with caution. His chest rose and fell slowly - still alive. You took a moment to observe him while he was out. Thick, short hair, muttonchops, nose charmingly crooked. Hm. Hopefully he wouldn’t die so fast as the last one. 

Crouching down a little ways away, you used the stick to poke him. Some people, you’d learned the hard way, came up swinging. 

This one didn’t. He inhaled sharply once, after two pokes, his eyes snapping open. They were the most vibrant blue you’d ever seen on a person. 

“What–?” he started to ask, head turning towards you.

“Easy,” you murmured, holding your hands up in a show of good faith. “I’ll answer all your questions, I promise. Here. Have some water.” You held out a skin to him, watching him drink. He didn’t guzzle it, at least, taking two swallows before handing it back. 

“Where am I?” 

“I’ll answer all your questions,” you reiterated, looking beyond him to the second man. “But first I want to see if that guy is still alive.”

He was on his feet faster than you would have expected, taking a couple staggering steps before finding his stride. “Simon,” he murmured, taking a knee next to the other man. “Oi. Simon.”

Simon woke with a low groan, and you handed the water skin to the first man. You could see two more in the bushes, one of them already stirring on his own. 

“You know those two, then?” If they did… a whole group. It had been a long time since you’d seen a whole group dropped in together. 

“Johnny,” Simon rasped. 

“And Gaz,” the first one said, a hint of relief in his tone. “C’mon, boys, on your feet now.” It took him astoundingly little time to have all of them on their feet. You stood back a little, impressed and a little intimidated. 

They were all big men, clearly strong. You did have Bessie and a weapon, but you preferred not to use them if you didn’t have to. 

“Now,” the first one said, turning back to you. “Where are we?” 

“Welcome to the Island.” You smiled wryly at them. “Don’t ask me how you got here, because I don’t know. I woke up here, same as you lot did. Come on, I’ve got food and more water back at base.” You turned away from them, walking back to Bessie. 

“What the fuck?” One of them, Gaz you thought, exclaimed upon seeing Bessie.

“I know,” you soothed. “She looks scary, but she won’t hurt you. She listens to me.” You patted the big Trike’s nose, grinning when she rumbled affectionately at you. 

“That’s a triceratops.” Gaz was staring at her, unblinking. 

“Oh, that right? I hadn’t noticed.” You grinned, though, to take the sting out of your words. 

“How…?” He trailed off, clearly uncertain how to even phrase that question. 

“I don’t know,” you answered with a little sigh. “Come on, keep up. I’ll explain on the way.” You whistled a short note to Bessie, for her to follow you, and started walking. All four men kept up with you easily. 

“Alright. Well. Like I mentioned, this is the Island. It’s… I don’t know how it’s possible. But it is. Yes, she is a triceratops. No, she’s not the only dinosaur here.” You paused and licked your lips, glancing at your new companions. “This place makes very little sense, honestly.” 

“How did you know to find us?” That was the first man again. 

“I didn’t. Today’s a gathering day, so Bessie and I were just out gathering resources.” You nodded back to the laden bags on Bessie’s sides. “Found you lot by accident.” 

“You’re acting like this is normal,” the Scottish one, Johnny you were pretty sure, said, eyeing you warily.

You huffed soft amusement at him. “I woke up here, same as you,” you answered, smiling a little. “Someone took me in then, showed me the ropes, same as I’ll show you. And you lot aren’t the first I’ve found and taken in. Happens pretty regularly.” 

“What happened to the rest?” Gaz sounded like he almost didn’t want the answer.

“They died.” You swallowed back the memories that evoked. “Not too far from base now.” You glanced at each of them and gave your name. Which is how you learned some of them had other names - Ghost and Soap, particularly. The first one you’d woken was Price. 

“What is this place?” Soap asked, looking around as you walked. 

“Not really sure,” you answered, pausing a moment to look around. Just in case. Never hurt to be on the lookout for predators. “Some forgotten island a mad scientist took over? Some kind of social experiment? Dunno. Doesn’t really matter, anyway.” 

“Are you alone here?” That was Price, those eyes fixed on you. 

“I’m the last of my tribe, yeah.” You shrugged. “But there are other tribes here. I’ll explain more later, if you want. We’ve got to get up here, then around to base.” You led the way, long used to the trek as you headed up the hill. 

Your base was in a nice defensible location, backed up to a steep drop with a solid row of spiked fencing keeping dangerous things out. You pulled open the gate for them, ushering the men through first and then guiding Bessie through. 

“Home sweet home,” you told them with a little smile. It was better than it had been when you’d arrived - you now had several crop plots and berry bushes, a nice paddock set up for Bessie and Watermelon, a separate paddock for Ripper, and a house with plenty of room, even with four new clan members. 

“You did all this?” Soap sounded impressed.

“Goodness no,” you laughed, taking one bag off of Bessie and setting it aside. “No, I’ve had help, most of the time. Some of this was established when I arrived here, but I added the crop plots.” You took off the second bag and ushered Bessie in with Watermelon. “Food first, I’m guessing?” You started for the house without actually waiting for an answer, hauling one of the bags with you. The other could stay outside for a while. 

The four were quiet as they looked around, something for which you were grateful. It gave you a chance to debate your options. You didn’t have enough stew for five people, but you did still have plenty of berries, and it wouldn’t take long to make up a batch of quick rolls. It wouldn’t be a feast, but it would tide them over. 

“You said you don’t know how we got here,” Price said, deliberately making noise as he walked closer to you.

“Right.” You focused on grabbing ingredients for the rolls, sparing him only a quick glance. 

“How long have you been here, then?” 

You actually had to think about it for a moment, head tipped to one side. “Seven hundred and twenty… two days. No. Twenty three.” 

“Almost two years?” Gaz asked, clearly shamelessly eavesdropping. 

“Almost.” You frowned down at the dough, adding a little more water to it. 

“And you’ve been doing this the whole time?” Price made a vague motion to the base.

“Pretty much.” You shrugged, giving the dough one more stir before you separated it out. “I’ve traveled, of course. Read through all the notes I could find. Learned the skills needed to survive here.” You shrugged again. “That’s how it goes here. I’ll be happy to teach you all as well.” 

Price blew out a slow breath. “You haven’t found a way off the island.”

“Of course not.” You rolled your eyes. “Nobody has. I don’t even know if there is a way off the Island. I mean, there must be, the supply drops come from somewhere, but I’ve never seen a plane or anything.” 

“There are supply drops?” Soap’s turn to eavesdrop.

“Of course.” You transferred the rolls to a baking stone, setting them carefully in the oven. Not as nice as a modern one, of course, but you’d only burnt a few rolls before figuring out how to make it work. “Daily, in different areas. I’ve got a big map up on that wall.” You pointed and grinned at the subsequent migration. “Home is the big blue dot.” 

More leisurely, you strolled over to stand behind the men, observing the map. It was a complete map, with bases marked accordingly. 

“What’s this, then?” Soap pointed to a green marker out on the plains.

“The horse tribe.” You rolled your eyes. “Pricks. They’re not particularly friendly.” 

“I take it they use horses,” Gaz said, flicking a grin at you. 

“Yeah. Exclusively. They will trade for carrots, at least, so they can be reasonable.” You shrugged. “Not often, but it happens.” 

“And here?” Ghost pointed to the red dot up between two mountains. 

“The Painted Ladies.” You looked away from the map. “They’re… a little zealous. Have no use for males, of any species. They use the red berries to make a dye and mark everything with it - themselves, saddles, clothes.” 

“That it?” Price this time, examining the map more closely.

“I haven’t checked in a while, but there used to be a tribe down here, between the base of this mountain and the swamp. No idea why they chose there, but it’s not my problem.” You shrugged. “Oh! And hypothetically there’s the sky tribe, built mobile bases on a few quetzal, but I’m not convinced that’s real.” 

You left them to continue examining the map, checking the food and tapping your fingers against the table. Still didn’t feel like enough, not with four of them. So you pulled out an extra slab of meat from the preserving bin, slapping that in a pan with some herbs and a few potatoes chopped up. There. That’d do. 

“There are plates and cups in that cupboard,” you said, pointing, hoping one of them would take the hint. “If you wanna wash up, that’s out back. Just don’t drink the water.” 

“On it,” Gaz said, moving to get the plates and cups. He even found the utensils with a little poking around. Good man. 

Dinner was… stilted. You had gotten accustomed to being alone again, and they were still adjusting. Not that you blamed them - you’d been in shock the first three days you’d been here. They were doing better than you.

Then again, they all knew each other, so that probably helped. And, honestly, they looked like they were military. Big guys like them, combined with the way they’d looked at the map and the way they carried themselves… Pinged as military in your mind. You’d seen their type before. 

You took the dishes out back to clean, waving off their offers. You needed a bit of quiet time to yourself. 

Four new people, all at once. A group. You’d only seen pairs come in before, not a group of four. Honestly, it made you wonder all over again about whoever was running this. What did they want? What was the point of this? 

Maybe there was none. Maybe it was all just an elaborate form of torture. You sure didn’t know anybody who’d made it out alive. 

You snorted softly, shaking your head. No point wondering about it. You had too much to do. 

Especially with four more people to feed. That would be a lot. 

You blew out a breath. Hopefully these ones would outlive you. You didn’t know if you could handle losing any more people. 

“Ma’am?” 

You jumped, startled, and looked at Gaz’s sheepish expression. “Yes, Gaz?” 

“Want me to take anything in for you?” 

You huffed out a little laugh. “Insistent, huh? Yeah, alright, you can take the plates in. I’ll show you where the bedding is once I’m done out here.” 

Gaz nodded, picking up the plates, though he didn’t move yet. “You alright?” 

You shot him an amused smile. “I should be asking you that.” 

He shrugged, looking down. “Big change for you, too,” he murmured, fingers shifting around the plates.

Your smile softened a little. “It is,” you admitted. “But I’m okay. It’s good to have people to talk to again. I’ll make sure to teach you everything you need to know about this place.” 

He nodded, searching your gaze for a few moments before he left. 

They all opted to bunk down together, which made life easier for you. The house was an open floor plan, so you just pushed some things out of the way, gave them bedding, and left them to it. 

You, of course, did last rounds before bed, checking on your three tames, checking the fence, and checking the surrounding area through the slats in the fence. A few pachys, a parasaur, and a stego farther out. Quiet out tonight. Good. 

The few crystals you’d left out all day were glowing softly now that night had fallen, so you brought those inside. The glow was soft, diffuse enough that it wouldn’t keep anyone awake (hopefully), but would still provide some illumination. 

In case any of them needed it. Or you. 

Murmuring a soft good night to them, you grabbed your own bedding and curled up in your favorite corner. It didn’t take long to drop off to sleep. 

You were surprised when they woke at sunrise, same as you. You let them take care of themselves, instead pulling water to boil and working on biscuits. They were easy to make and lasted a few days, although you doubted they’d be around that long. 

“You said there are supply drops?” Price asked, standing to one side while you worked.

“Mmhm. Not in the same spot, but they come down.”

“If you’re planning to go to any today, I’d like to go with you.” 

You straightened after putting the last batch of biscuits in the oven, dusting your hands off. “I’ve got a few questions first. You lot military?” 

“Yes.” He crossed his arms over his chest, watching you more closely.

You nodded. “Good. Think you can trust me enough to keep you all out of the worst of the trouble until you learn the ropes?” 

His lips twitched. “Do we have a choice?”

“Always.” You frowned at him, disapproving. “You never have to stay here. If you really want to leave and try on your own, I can give you some supplies and advice. You’re not beholden to me, or anything like that.” 

He only smiled, apparently pleased. “We’ll follow your lead.” 

You blinked, not having expected that. “Uh. Good.” You ignored one of them snickering behind you and took the freshly-boiled water off the flame. “Right, those’ll take a bit. Let me show you the guns.” 

That got all of their attention, and they all followed you outside to the weapons cabinet. You opened it with a little flourish, grinning at their expressions. 

A few bows and crossbows sat on one side, arrows piled neatly below. Your pistol you picked up, tucking away so they didn’t get any ideas. 

Which still left three longneck rifles, another pistol, and one (slightly broken) assault rifle. 

“Quite a stash,” Soap murmured, going for one of the rifles. 

“They come in some of the supply drops,” you offered, stepping back to give them better access. “And ammo, which is below. The assault rifle is broken, haven’t the foggiest what to do with it.”

“I do.” Ghost picked that one up and stepped away. You let him. Not like he could make it any more broken.

“Please don’t shoot any of them here, you’ll scare the tames, and that will end badly for everyone.” You left them to the guns, going to grab Bessie’s bags again. 

“Not a problem,” Price assured you, taking one of the longnecks. Gaz and Soap each had one as well. 

You nodded once, making sure both bags were empty and in good condition before you hung them on the side of the paddock. You’d take Bessie with you when you taught them how to hunt here. 

You had a feeling at least one of them would be a bit… resistant to eating meat after this. 

The biscuits went over well - Gaz ate four in one sitting. You packed up several more in a bag, along with two water skins freshly filled. 

“Alright,” you murmured, taking them outside again. “Look for blue smoke, that’s usually what they use for the supply drops. Sometimes green. Once in a great while, yellow.” 

“Blue,” Gaz called after only a few seconds, pointing. Towards the beach. Good. 

“Green,” Soap called less than a minute later. You sucked your teeth when you saw that one - towards the mountain. Not good. 

“Right,” you mumbled, chewing your lip. “We’re going for blue first. We’ll hunt along the way.” 

Nobody said a word against your plan, which was frankly miraculous. You got Bessie ready again, whistling for her to follow. 

“You tamed her?” Price fell into step next to you at the head of the group. 

“Her, yeah.” You smiled. “The other two, no. Watermelon was tamed by the guy before you lot - Jasper. Nice guy. Former marine.” You shrugged. 

“And the other?” 

“Ripper was tamed by my mentor, Tom. He left her to me, made sure she knew I was friendly.” Your smile was tinted bittersweet at the memory of Tom. You firmly maintained you couldn’t have had a better mentor. 

Not like you’d turned out to be. 

“How does that work?” 

You huffed, shaking your head even as you continued to scan for danger. “That’s at least a week two project, Price. Gotta learn the basics first.” 

“Alright.” He seemed amused now. “Tell me more about the supply drops.”

You shot him an amused look. “I take it you’re in charge of the boys.” 

“That obvious, eh?” His lips twitched. 

“With that tone of voice? Yeah.” You grinned, though. “Supply drops usually have all kinds of things. Clothes, weapons, ammo, medicine, food. Anything that can’t easily be made here, or requires technical skills that can’t easily be learned. Sometimes notes, manuals, things like that.”

“And they drop daily.”

“Usually, yeah. They aren’t in the same spot every day, so they’re not always close enough to grab. We got lucky with this one on the coast, actually. The coast is less dangerous than the mountains.” You paused to take a quick look around, just to be safe, before you continued on. “As long as you don’t go in the ocean, anyway. Practically everything in the ocean wants to kill you.” 

Quiet fell for a little while as you all walked. There was still a little bit of light forest between you and the coast, and the supply drop. The forest was usually quiet here, but not always. Fortunately, they seemed to note your caution and followed your lead, all without a word. 

You could get used to that. 

“I see the drop.” You blew out a slow breath. Once again, through the forest without incident. And still with plenty of time to let them do some hunting. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.” 

Ghost set up keeping an eye on the surrounding area while you and Gaz pulled the top off the crate. 

You whistled at the contents. Small bottles of medicine, bandages, a few splints, another pistol and ammo… And an oiled coat, which you promptly held up to check the size. That would come in handy on rainy days. 

“This is a good haul,” you murmured. Coat looked too big for you. Damn. “Alright, let’s load up Bessie, make sure you cushion those medicine bottles.” 

They worked easily, efficiently. Even if you did catch Soap side-eyeing Bessie when the trike huffed. 

You broke down the crate the rest of the way, tying the pieces together and attaching that to the leather harness. Good. 

“Right,” you murmured. “Hunting next, I s’pose.” You blew out a breath, hands on your hips, looking down towards the water. “We’ll start easy.”

“Oi,” Soap started, indignant. 

“Easy for me,” you corrected with a little grin. “Come on. I can usually find dodos down this way.” A short whistle for Bessie to follow and you started down the beach, letting the others follow at their own pace. 

The beach was usually quiet. At least, here it was. The swamp… much less so. But here? Not a problem. 

“There we go,” you murmured, stopping far enough away that the dodos wouldn’t freak out. Not that they did anyway - they were pretty stupid. “Five of ‘em, that’s good. Right, just aim for the heads. They’re not smart and they’re not fast, I’m sure you can get ‘em.” 

You stood to the side, letting them figure out how they wanted to do this. You were only a little amused when Price approached it in a very military fashion - he sent Soap and Ghost around to the other side to help pen in the big dumb birds. 

Honestly, it didn’t take them any time at all to take down the birds. You whistled lowly. They were efficient. 

“Keep this up and you won’t need me,” you joked, patting Bessie’s side.

“Think we still have a few things to learn,” Price said, falling in step next to you as you walked over to the birds. 

You hummed acknowledgement before you grabbed the first bird by the feet, dragging it over to Bessie. “Might be a nest around here,” you said, glancing at Gaz. “Mind taking a look?”

Gaz was off with a nod, even as Soap and Ghost walked over to help. 

“We’ll take these two back,” you said, attaching the second bird to Bessie’s harness. “The other three we can butcher here.” You shook out the oiled cloth you’d brought with specifically to wrap the meat in, laying it on the sand. 

Fortunately, none of them were squeamish. Unfortunately, you only had two knives. 

It still took relatively little time for you and Price to get the meat done and wrapped up. 

"Found a few eggs," Gaz reported, carefully holding the eggs against his stomach. Three of them. Your mouth watered at the sight. 

"Brilliant." You grinned. "Alright, this has worked out quite nicely for us! I can show you some berry patches on the way back." 

None of them objected, so you got everything situated in Bessie's bags and started the walk back. 

You'd made it most of the way when you heard the little growl. You stopped, hand going to your pistol, and you noted Price doing the same near you. 

But the creature that stepped out of the brush was no threat. The hyaenadon growled softly again, gaze focused on you. 

"Easy," you soothed, both it and the men. "Easy does it." You released your pistol, taking two steps back to Bessie and cutting off a chunk of meat. 

"What are ye doin'?" Soap hissed, confused and a little incredulous. 

"No need to panic," you soothed, stepping forward again, still moving slow. You stepped ahead of Price and crouched down. "Here, sweetheart. Here you go." You held out the meat, heart racing. 

The hyaenadon crept closer, slow, cautious, a little skittish. It sniffed the meat and then, very delicately, took it from your hand. Its stubby tail wagged and it whined a little, chowing down. 

"What is this?" Price asked this time.

"I have been working on taming this darling for weeks," you said, keeping your tone low and gentle. "I think this one is almost ready to come home." 

"Ye can't be serious." Soap again, this time aghast. 

"Of course I am." You smiled as the hyaenadon licked your hand. "Good job," you murmured. "That's a good pup. How about I bring you more tomorrow, hm?" 

The hyaenadon whined again and scampered off back into the woods. You straightened with a satisfied smile. 

"What was that?" Ghost finally, voice a low growl. 

"Home first," you insisted. "Then I'll explain."

[loveinhawkins]

Dustin knows that as soon as you cut one monster’s head off, another is bound to grow in its place.

So when the late Jason Carver’s family and friends move out of Hawkins, he’s secretly glad about it, sure, but he’s not exactly relieved.

Rumours are a hard thing to kill.

He’s careful; he tries his hardest to be careful. On the occasional days that Eddie happens to pick him up from school, he makes sure Eddie parks down the sidewalk, so he’s out of direct view from the parking lot. In all honesty, he doesn’t think anyone would actually try to start anything; the cover story for Eddie’s innocence hadn’t been watertight, nothing ever is, but it had been enough to stop full blown accusations.

Still. Dustin starts to think that maybe monsters now come in the form of silent looks, of parents whispering as they pick up their children from school, whisking them away as if Eddie might turn them to stone with one glance.

“I’ve had whispers all my life, man,” Eddie had told him, blasé, “I’ll get over it.”

But Dustin figured he could at least spare him from hearing some of it; a little walk before catching a ride isn’t exactly a hardship.

But in all of his imagined worst-case scenarios—picturing himself having to defend Eddie from the town’s rubberneckers—Dustin doesn’t expect to be confronted in the middle of the school day.

And certainly not while he’s alone.

A junior stops him on the way to the cafeteria. Dustin racks his brain, comes up with the name Aaron, blanks on the surname; yet he’s sure that there’s no crossover with Jason and his crew.

“Henderson, right?” Aaron says with a seemingly pleasant smile.

Dustin’s hackles are up from just the way he says his name—it’s not like the way Eddie and Steve say it, rounded and soft with fondness. It’s cold, oil slick.

“Yeah,” he says shortly. He makes to step to the side; Aaron doesn’t stop him really, but his weight shifts subtly, as if to silently declare that there’s no room for argument.

“Come on, let’s take a walk.”

-

At first Dustin tries very hard to convince himself that it’s just a coincidence when Aaron leads him into the woods.

But then he sees the picnic table.

Eddie had described every interaction he’d had with Chrissy in a kind of vivid detail that bordered on desperate—almost as if by recounting it, he might find a scrap of impossible hope: that it hadn’t happened like he thought, that she might have somehow survived after all.

It’s like Dustin can see the memory of her now, can hear Eddie’s words. I noticed she was… jumpy, you know, but, Jesus, I just thought I must’ve spooked her.

“This is where he did it, right?” Aaron says. “Where it all started.”

Dustin stays very still. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play dumb. I saw them that day, wandering off.” There’s a horrible gleam in Aaron’s eyes, and Dustin knows it’s been fuelled by the darkest of whispers. “They timed it so it looked like they went there separately, but I fucking saw them.”

“I’m not—”

“He cursed Chrissy here, didn’t he? Then he finished off what he started at his piece of shit trailer. Fucking creep.”

In his mind’s eye, there’s a flash of Eddie in Steve’s arms, something he saw unintentionally, waking in the early hours of the morning. He remembers quickly shutting his eyes again, but that hadn’t been enough to block out Eddie’s gasping, tearful breaths. I thought I could help her, Steve, I-I thought—oh, God—

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dustin says flatly.

He can hear Eddie’s voice in his head. Don’t rise to it, don’t give them an inch. But that had been about teachers itching for an excuse to give someone a detention, not…

“That’s right, Henderson, walk away. You a freak like him?”

The leaves rustle as Aaron stalks forward; Dustin doesn’t look back.

There’s some kinds of people you just can’t reason with, Henderson.

“Yeah, I think you are. Did he teach you everything? Bet you loved it. Bet you begged for it. Begged him to show you how to be a fucking faggot—”

Dustin doesn’t remember actually deciding to throw a punch. It’s like the next few seconds of his life turn to static, to nothing, and suddenly he’s breathing heavily, and Aaron’s looking up at him from the ground in faint surprise.

It must not have been a good punch; there’s not a mark on Aaron’s face, and when Dustin glances down at his knuckles, he can’t see any blood on them. He probably just caught Aaron in the chest—winded him, if anything.

But he stands his ground. Tries to channel how Steve had squared up to Billy Hargrove.

“Say that again, and you’re dead.”

His heart pounds in his ears, a drumbeat of fury. He wonders if maybe a part of him has never stopped being twelve years old, has never stopped being angry when people spat poison about Will.

“No,” Aaron says, getting to his feet, “you are.”

And Dustin is shoved backwards. His ankle is still weak from that damn fall through the gate, so he goes down hard.

And as he lies there, trying to catch his breath through the flare of pain, he suddenly realises that no-one knows where he is. That he could get really, really hurt.

Aaron looms over him, saying nothing. He spits in Dustin’s face.

And then he leaves.

-

“Where were you?” Mike asks the period after lunch, passing over a cup of chocolate pudding he’d saved.

Dustin spins a tale about having lunch in the music department, waiting for a slot to become free for guitar lessons. It’s not technically a lie; he’d simply planned on doing it next week instead: just a taster session so he could tell Eddie about it, and then Eddie would bitch about promising youth getting ruined by learning “fucking godawful technique”, and then he’d teach Dustin properly.

Mike buys it, but his forehead wrinkles in concern when Dustin doesn’t touch the pudding.

Dustin bites down the stupid impulse to ask him about how it felt to jump off Sattler Quarry—because right now he thinks he’s been left dangling over the edge of a cliff.

Just waiting to fall.

-

He thinks he’s doing an okay job at hiding the persistent throb in his ankle, takes care to walk to Eddie’s van with his head up.

But then Eddie opens the door, and his first words are, “Hey, are you limping?”

Dustin just stops himself from sighing. Plan B, then.

“Had to run track at gym,” he lies easily.

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“I thought it would be fine!”

“C’mon, man, you’ve got a doctor’s note for a reason.”

Dustin does sigh this time—a harsh, frustrated sound as his ankle gives another warning twinge. He doesn’t stop himself in time, and he snaps, “God, you sound like Steve. It doesn’t suit you.”

The surprised glance Eddie gives him is awful. He’s silent for a moment, starting up the engine.

“Didn’t realise only Steve could care,” he says lightly, but Dustin can see the flicker of hurt in his eyes.

But while a part of him instantly regrets what he says, another part is relieved: he knows that, for now, Eddie won’t pry anymore, will just give him a pointed silent treatment for the rest of the ride.

Dustin tells himself that he doesn’t mind. He’d rather Eddie be hurt by his words than anyone else’s.

He can do this. He can handle this on his own.

He has to.

[chemicallywrit]

Happy Audio Drama Sunday! I heard so many good shows this week, let’s goooooo

🥃 I started listening to @breakerwhiskey this week, and I’m on episode 21 (which is nothing, it’s microfic), and it is so compelling. Lauren Shippen said in episode zero that she misses the improvisational feel of early audio dramas and that really comes through in this show—the wandering of the story reflects the wandering of Whiskey herself. I can’t wait to see what happens next.

🎵I am not alone in my reaction to the new season of @hellofromthehallowoods, which I think goes something like, “Wh—who—but—Arnold?????” (Seriously, Arnold???) but I love a mystery, and I love how linear this season is starting out. I’m sure that it’ll all get more complicated soon.

💔 Have you all heard Josie’s Lonely Hearts Club? It’s a call-in advice show from a fictional radio station and it is HILARIOUS. Until this last episode, which got SAD. It's a partially improvised show, so the whole thing feels so incredibly human and it always hits. Please listen, more fictional advice shows all around.

🐺 The Midnight Burger/The Amelia Project crossover was exactly as delightful as I expected. We got two shows that love historical figures and putting people in the deep freeze. What could go wrong! Absolutely nothing. With a crossover episode I always wonder if there will be enough character interaction to slake my insatiable character dynamic thirst and for this one I definitely think there was.

🍺 Inn Between dropped an episode of Dragon’s Rest on their feed this week, and I'm here to say that we did that because it's frikkin hilarious. This last episode was so good, especially with Shax trying to talk to a bartender and the bartender getting mad that Shax was complaining about her friends and not having a professional business conversation. I love you, southern-sounding bartender, and I love you Shax.

🩸Hemophobia continues to scare the heck out of me. This series, Camp Havenside, ended exactly how I expected it to, with the extra twist of that horrible half-possessed state Sam is in. Lordt. Listen to this show. Mind the content warnings. Then like, message me about it, it has taken permanent residence in my brain.

🎭 Oh Malevolent, you never disappoint me. I adore the twists the season finale took, and the real danger Arthur and John were in had me on the edge of my seat. How are we gonna get outta this one boys! Frikkin Kayne.

💎 As it ever is, @kingmakerpod was a blessing visited upon my podcatcher. Oh man though, Lucas Lando, what a scuzbag. Like maybe the worst villain yet in this series for me, and I'm including the psychic child. Lando's just unsavory. The action scenes in this episode were excellent, and I love the use of Pocket Cinnamon. For a minute when they were looking for things in the barn that don't conduct electricity, I was very worried for the cows. Honestly now a little surprised they didn't explode a cow. Hey guys, why didn't you explode a cow?

🌈 I've been listening to this actual play, @ourstoriedinsight, and it's about all the typical actual play stuff--a party of misfit adventurers, thrown together by circumstance, trying to stop the end of the world. What stands out about this one is its wonderful sound design and its tone--it's so introspective and kind. The characters are great too. I would die for Vishakapar. If you like an actual play and you don't want to wait for it to get really good, please check out Our Storied Insight.

As for personal news, boy oh boy am I working hard on the Dead! Pray for our recording schedule these next couple weeks. As for Inn Between, we'll be putting up an episode this week that is a true banger, I hope you like it.

That's it for me this week! If you like what I do, send me a tip!