#ALL the tropes throw em ALL in fuck it

[firelise]

enjoying battle of the writers, what can i say i love fun and having silly ass time. im a silly girl at heart

[merakidoll]

— age gap / best friend’s mom trope

connie was guilty for many things. having a love for quick things, like the way of living, or money. he was guilty of having such an strong love for fast cars, and dying his hair. but he had never thought to add falling for his best friend’s mom on the list.

neither knew how they had grown to like one another other so much. how they grew desperate for each other’s company, or touches. even kisses, and god did they love that. they both had voices screaming to stop- how this would turn out to be a terrible situation. voices that told you the age gap was too much, he wasn’t ready for things that you were. but he always proved you wrong.

now you layed in a heart shaped bed, in the never sleeping Las Vegas where you both had just shared i do. one step closer to connie being adamant on filling you with his seed. his daughter.

“take s-some outuhhh!” you gritted through your teeth pushing at the tattooed abdomen. your cunt clenched around him, cream falling out of you at just the sight of the red ink tattoo with your name right where the thing that kept him living beat. “you got it. your a big girl mama” fully entering you with one stern pump, he sat still using the pad of his thumb and swiping your red lipstick lips before kissing you hard.

hunger was behind the kiss. it was so powerful that you couldn’t help but moan, his lips sucking on your tongue then pulling back quickly with heavy breaths. you two just started into each other eyes, no words but loving looks- all until connie abruptly put two fingers in your mouth and started to fuck you hard.

“s-suck em. show me how you suck on my dick” he watched your every move throwing his head back when your tongue swirled around the tattooed digets, spit dripping down his knuckles. “mmm just like fuckin that” he praised you, balls slapping against your ass and fingers going deeper into your mouth until her heard your gags.

the roughness did something to your body, it drove you wild so mucb that you began to bob your head, spit gather in the bands of your new commitment of till death do you part. “y-your mine, shit m-maaa!” you stared at how he was starting to slow down, his hips never stoping its speed but just growing sloppy from him being close.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head clenching around one good time before your squirt got all over connie. he was slowly losing the toughness, your pussy only getting wetter and tighter that he had to quickly romve his fingers and stuff his face into your neck, whining from how good everything was feeling.

his pierced - sensitive nipples rubbing against your hot skin making him sigh from shock. his cock let out ropes upon ropes of seamen, that was for sure impregnating you. while all of that was happening, your rubbed your now husband giving his soft loving kisses. so often containing a moan from how full you were feeling.

[shurisgf]

ECSTASY — A. ARETAS ✩ (2)

ೃ⁀➷ SUMMARY; in which , armando can’t keep his eyes off of his favorite dancer. So he takes matters into his own hands. | FEAT. Armando Aretas x BLACK!fem!reader | TROPE situationship ish? | FORMAT series | WARNINGS strip club, cursing, use of the n word, sex | NOTES WE BACK AT THE STRIPP AYE 😜

✩ this is part two of a series , you can find part one here.

🎧 for an enhanced experience , listen to the playlist selected below ;

` The Motto — Drake

` Truffle Butter —Nicki Minaj

` My n***a — YG

` What We Doin’ — City Girls

` Run Away — Chris Brown

` Pressurelicious — Megan Thee Stallion

` Throw Sum Mo — Rae Sremmurd

` FTCU — Latto

` Thooties — Dee Bills & Jenn Carter

` Ride — YK Osiris

` Cut ‘Em Off — Femme It Forward & Kiana Ledé

` No Frauds — Nicki Minaj

` Point Me 2 — FendiDa Rappa & Cardi B

` FTCU — Nicki Minaj

It’s been one week since your first private session with Armando. He’d been coming in frequently, coming to see his favorite dancer. He’d tip you large amounts of money each time he came in. He was your favorite regular, never making you feel uncomfortable in any way, and always making sure that whatever he asked for, you felt comfortable doing. Over the short time you two have known each other, you got to know each other quite well, and have maintained a flirty relationship with each other. You’d find yourself making short conversation while dancing for him.

Tonight was no different, as you walked towards the room where you normally did your sessions with Armando. Mercedes stopped you, “Coco wants to know if you can cover her stage while she fixes her shoes, she broke ‘em on stage.”

“I would but I can’t, got a hot date with my man.” You joked, continuing to walk to the room he was waiting in. Mercedes laughed it off. “Girl, you a mess.” She continued laughing as she walked away, looking for someone else to cover Coco’s stage. Tonight you wore a red laced bra and a matching red thong, with some skimpy red heels. You always loved dressing up in pretty lingerie, it was your favorite part of the job, and Armando loved seeing you in your outfits. He even picked out a favorite set and asked you to wear it a few times. And of course you did, wanting to make his experience at the club memorable.

Walking into the room, he immediately whistled, making you smile as you closed the door behind you. “This might be my new favorite,” he sat there, eyeing you up and down as you walked over to him.

“You look so sexy mama.” He noticed the slight smile forming on your lips.

“Can I get a spin babygirl?” Nodding your head, you spun around slowly, making sure he had time to see every inch of your body. “Fuck, c’mere.” He tapped his. lap, inviting you to sit on him. You walked over and slowly lifted your legs, straddling his lap, as you looked down at him in his eyes. A sight that he loved. His right hand rested on your ass, while his left was preoccupied rubbing your lower back. “When you gonna let me return the favor?” He spoke in that same sexy voice of his that you loved so much. You began to whine your hips against him, “You sure you can handle all this?” You bit your lips, tossing your head back as you continued your movements on him. “No me pongas a prueba mamá, haré que tu bonito trasero se incline sobre un mostrador gritando mi nombre.” His simple words left butterflies in your stomach as you tried to keep your composure. But hell, you were getting tired of pretending like you didn’t want him.

That’s why you were at his apartment at 3 AM, bent over his kitchen island, his thick cock pounding you from behind. Your eyes rolled as he pounded into the same spot, the repetition making your knees weak. “Armando-“ you moaned his name, driving him crazier. His free hand supporting your hip so you didn’t fall. “I can’t- too much-“ you cried, trying to get the words out, but all you could say were those two phrases, too focused on the way he was making you feel. “Shh, puedes llevarlo mamá.” He guided your hips as he deepened his strokes, pressing his hand to your lower stomach, feeling himself pumping in and out of you. You were a sloppy moaning mess against the counter, trying to keep yourself upright, but he was making it so damn hard. “You like it when my dick fills you up like this? Hm?” He grunted, looking down at your ass clapping against his skin. “Joder mamá me vuelves loca.” Your sweet moans and soft claps filling the room. You reached a free hand down to your clit, rubbing it at just the right pace. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” You threw your head back in pleasure. “Armando- I’m so close, please-“ you whined out, trying to warn him of your incoming orgasam, “Lo tienes mamá.” His sexy voice ringing through your ears was all you needed. Creaming all over his cock as he sped up his pace, chasing after his own climax. The overstimulation was killing you, tears falling from your eyes as you continued to whine, blurting out incoherent words. “Shhh mamá, esto es lo que querías, right?” He teasingly asked you, slightly chuckling at you taking his thick cock against the counter. All fucked out and barely able to speak. Your walls clenched around him, “Fuck!” He groaned, pulling out and releasing his seed on your ass. Heavy breathing filled the room. His hands still holding you steady so that you didn’t fall. “Te ves tan bonita toda jodida en mi mostrador.” He turned you around and picked you up, hearing you whining at his actions. “Shh mama, I’m gonna clean you up.”

Your phone was filled with 15 missed calls from the other girls at the club, wondering why you dipped out as soon as your last set was over with. Little did they know you had found your way to Armando’s apartment after your last dance, letting him return the favor.

GLOSSARY !

No me pongas a prueba mamá, haré que tu bonito trasero se incline sobre un mostrador gritando mi nombre — Don’t test me mama, I’ll have your pretty ass bent over a counter screaming my name.

Puedes llevarlo mamá — You can take it mama.

Joder mamá me vuelves loca — Fuck, mama you drive me crazy.

Lo tienes mamá — You got it mama.

Mamá, esto es lo que querías — Mama, this is what you wanted.

Te ves tan bonita toda jodida en mi mostrador — You look so pretty all fucked out on my counter.

©2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — SHURI'S GF. Do not modify, repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any work posted on this blog without my permission !

TAGLIST; @ghettogirly @milliumizoomi @loakswifesworld @dyttomori

reblogs are greatly appreciated !

[buckets-and-trees]

Hehe I’m here with a dare 😏

So I’m such a sucker for angst but with a happy ending - I’d love to hear how you would go about writing a forced proximity meets the one that got away fic, from what I’ve read of your writing I feel like you’d really do those tropes justice

Alright, Em... let me stretch my fingers and get ready for this one...

I THOUGHT about this.

Ari Levinson

Modern AU - college and then mid-to-late-30s Ari

We're going to call this... er... maybe an "imagine-novella"? It kind of ended up being a 2500-word plot exploration. No content warnings, only some language.

You meet Ari in college. He’s tall and toned and tanned, always in a baseball cap unless forced otherwise, and he’s already sporting a full beard and looking good with it. He’s a couple of years older because he worked out of high school before for a couple of years - long enough to put enough away to pay for tuition without being a burden on his parents. When you meet him, it's when there's the huge club rush out on the quad your junior year. It's in the middle of campus in the first weeks of the semester so everyone does wander through by the nature of when and where it is. You see the table for the radio station on campus. Truthfully you don't even notice him at first. You're standing twenty feet away looking at the sign and thinking about whether or not it's worth it, maybe shake things up, you love music - you're that friend always making the playlists, discovering new songs and bands, dying to go to big music festivals, etc, and your campus has a radio station...

Someone else was talking to him as he's running that table, and they leave and then he sees you standing there, and, "Hey! You!"

It jolts you out of your thoughts and you're caught off guard for just a half a second, and go, "Me?"

He grins, "Yeah, you."

Your feet move before you even really think about it because ... that's just what you do when people call you over. It’s an instant crush for you but you try and reign it in, because he's excited that you're actually interested in the station, and you genuinely are excited about it. He's a Journalism and Communications major and the station manager, and so he gives you the pitch to come to an info meeting they're going to have, he'd love to see you there.

And you do go. Because... it doesn't matter that he's cute. The more you keep thinking about it, you decide it would actually be fun. You get a show, you make a lot of new friends with the other station people - some of them are total nerds, but they're all fun or nice or a little bit irreverent, and so station meetings once a month are fun. You're a good DJ. You have fun with your shows. Ari takes note - he appreciates it. The station is his baby. He puts everything into it. He's not outgoing, even though he's charismatic, but he can't help but gravitate to the people who really fucking love it like him. You don't get to know him super well that first year, but when it's time for him to appoint new directors to run the station the next year, he pulls you aside and says he loves what you've done with your show and wants you to think about applying for a director position.

You do. It's going to be your last year of college, the DJ gig hasn't been work, it's just been fun, and ... you love being part of the team, love to work on exciting projects, dig your hands into the dirt and make something great, so yeah. You throw your hat in the ring, because why not? And it could be an extra thing to go on your grad school applications.

Ari not only picks you for the team, he actually ends up picking you to be the director of programming, his number two, the one who oversees the DJs and putting together the roster for shows each semester. And that's what launches everything to a new level.

You lock down DJs that you want to come back the next fall, you both go away for the summer, but now you're texting somewhat regularly about ideas for the next year, things you'll work on, and the real working friendship develops. When fall semester starts and it's full speed on the ground, you and the team of directors really work to make the station great, but it's A LOT of you and Ari.

And to say he becomes one of your best friends senior year? Maybe. You tread that line because there's still that part of your heart that crushes on him, but the part that loves doing everything station and music and working on this big beast together? That's big. You let that be the focus. Because it's fun. And he's fun. And he's brilliant (like you, which is why he likes you) and ambitious (like you) and he's got this great, rich laugh that you get to hear a lot. And a lot of your other friends are busy with their senior years, too, and so are you, and so you don't mind any of the time you spend working on the station with Ari and the other directors and the DJs who are just this pack of a couple dozen people who come and go. But a lot of you and Ari.

And he doesn't date anyone. Not the entire time you know him. You heard/thought maybe there were some hook ups he indulged in during your junior year, but not that year before you both graduate. He clearly doesn't have time for a girlfriend and doesn't love anything more than the station, but you do think - just a little bit - just in the back of your head sometimes - that maybe you don't hear about him with anyone this year because... he's not going to date you - that would be unprofessional for you two and the station - but maybe it's because you are close. And maybe as you get closer to the end of the year... maybe he's going to make a move. He's always said he's already a confirmed old bachelor, but the way he smiles at you, the way he values your opinion, how often he says how amazing you are and how he appreciates you... you're going to be the girl who finally gets him.

But time is running out. And even though you both pour your hearts into the station together, there are never any late nights (those are given to studying, passing classes, etc). The last month, he says stuff like he's never going to see any of you again. Jokingly. You all laugh as directors because how could he mean it? He's made you all a family.

He makes more comments like that in the last weeks and days, and when he says he's going to shut down all of his social media, because he only had it to run and promote the station, you call him on his bullshit. And he says no. He's serious. He's going to go into journalistic photography, and he's going to create the network he needs where he needs it, but he's not playing the PR games to do it - the dream is wild nature photography, work in remote locations, never talk to humans again if he can help it. And it's so stupid. You tell Ari he's being ridiculous. He can't want to live so far off the grid.

"I'm sorry," he says, kindly but matter-of-factly. "But when we graduate, I'm never talking to any of you ever again."

You scoff. But this conversation is now just you and him in the station on a Saturday afternoon. But then you look at him for a half a second and really see his face. And you think he means it. "Ari, I did not give my fucking heart and soul into this station for the last year as your friend for you to never talk to me again. You at least owe me a lunch five years from now."

He smiles. "Okay. Maybe in five years. You find me in five years and I promise I'll take you to lunch."

And you graduate a week later, and he says goodbye, and you're not sad about it. Maybe just a bit wistful for what might have been. But after that specific "five years" conversation, you realize it was only you who was maybe a bit foolishly hopeful. He'd really never led you on. You never told him you had a crush (you had tried to keep it professional, because you did genuinely love the friendship) and he'd never given you or anyone else any illusion that he was there for anything other than working on the station and that bonding and camaraderie. If he had led you on, if there had been late nights, maybe you would've been hurt. But aside from being secretly hopeful, there really wasn't much harm done by your pining. But maybe in five years, you'll look him up for that lunch he agreed to.

He does fall off the gridl You take a busy summer job and then a paid internship in the fall, and you try and track him a bit, but you do just… get busy and move forward. You think of Ari a lot, but less and less as the time goes on. You know the name of the newspaper he was going to start off with right after graduation, and although he got rid of social media, he did have a beautiful website he set up for his photography. And you check that once in a while, but less and less. You get a fulltime job after the internship, and your life becomes even more full with the things that aren’t Ari, and sometimes you think about him, but most times you don’t.

When that five years rolls around, you start to think of him more again.

But you let it come and go.

You didn’t necessarily feel like you were living your best life, and if you were going to get one lunch to win over the one who got away and make him realize you were the love of his life… maybe you’d feel a little better – a little more accomplished, go to the gym more, be really something – in ten years.

Fleeting thought in ten years. Though you do think of him when you realize it’s that ten year mark. And you just kind of smile because ten years ago you was so wildly for him, and five years ago you was still a touch foolishly hopeful, and wouldn’t it be something if you did look him up now? But you really don’t need to anymore.

Then a couple of years later, you move to a new place, and without ever even trying, who else should somehow be living two doors down from you but Ari fucking Levinson?

And he sees you first. He’s just gotten home, opened the door from the garage into the house to be reunited with his good girl – a beautiful golden retriever who’s waited for him all day, walked with her trotting along at his side out to his mailbox, and looks down the street to see who’s just sending off the movers out of curiosity for who’s moving into the neighborhood, and he does a fucking double take because it’s you.

His god damn jaw drops and he laughs and then calls out your name.

You turn, hardly believing it but knowing that voice anywhere, and you laugh and shake your head. “Ari Levinson?”

You push the messy hair from the long day’s work of moving out of your face and are glad you’re not besotted for this man anymore, even if he does look like even more of an Adonis now, because you do know you look a mess, but you don’t even care. Having moved out of state for this dream job, you couldn’t be any more happy just to have someone from your past right at your new home base.

“’Of all the gin joints in all the towns in the world!’”

He meets you halfway, and he pauses a beat away from you because he’s not a hugger, but somehow there’s just this draw to hug you, and so he does. Only surprising to you for a second, but you’re so tired and it’s been a good day but a long day, and you were excited for this move, but you can’t deny a familiar face just feels good, so you melt into him just for the comfort of it for a moment. It’s just nice.

And when you pull back, the obedient but attentive dog draws your attention, lighting your face up with a beautiful grin. “Can I pet your dog?!”

But the two of you are already drawn to each other and bonding before he gets the, “Sure, of course,” out of his mouth.

He doesn’t wear those old baseball caps every day anymore, so he pushes his hand through his hair, and that move has practically made women drop their panties for him over the years, but you don’t even notice, too busy showering affection on his sweet golden girl while the two of you exchange the kind of words two of the oldest friends do when they haven’t seen each other in ages. Why is his chest so tight and warm all at once. Why does he have the thought cross his mind that you showing up here feels like home? Why are you falling in love with his dog and not with him? Wait, why did he think that?

This feels like a slippery slope.

But maybe he doesn’t fucking care.

When he is back inside his house, starting to pull something from the fridge to heat up for dinner, he remembers that he promised you a dinner.

It’s later than you two made the deal for, but… he’ll start there.

Just old friends who are new neighbors.

That night when he’s plugging his phone in to charge before bed, he remembers that he never did get rid of your contact in his phone. You might have the same number.

What he doesn’t know is that when he left the harbor, sure, you waited with that boat hopefully for a bit, but then you finally took your ship and sailed – everywhere really – and you may be eager to fall happily in love with his dog and genuinely grateful to know you’ll have someone in your corner on this new adventure, but you want nothing more than that good friendship in your life. He was one of your greatest friends all those years ago. But you finally got over that pining crush, and here’s no way you’ll be foolish enough to fall for him again, nor do you want to. You couldn’t ask for more than to have your old friend as your new neighbor, with his gorgeous golden retriever.

Ari does text you that night… just a welcome to the neighborhood again, and that he thinks he owes you a dinner, if he remembers correctly (he does, he’s just being casually clever), so he’s gotta take you out tomorrow night.

And it is still the same number, but you fell into the blissful rest of your bed, exhausted after move in day, so you don’t even see it that night. It will wait until you get to it in the morning.

Just like Ari will have to wait for what he wants. And work to try to even bring you around again.

Will he have waited too long and you’ll be the one who got away?

[eijirousbestie]

I love love love your bakugou x artist reader trope please we need more of it it’s so wholesome i have read it on repeat since you upload it 💗💗💗

Aahh thank you so much!! Kinda grew attached to it myself so I’m glad to hear y’all love it sm<33 This is definitely a series I plan on continuing🤟🏽 this part is kinda more goofy than anything else but I promise there’s fluff near the end<33

“Fuck around and find out”

he loses his drumsticks

missing rug

using an art supply as a weapon?

nonverbal apology

can’t admit he’s wrong for SHIT

Clay is never easy to work with and you’d be foolish to think it is. It’s messy, dries relatively quickly and dirties up every surface it graces. You swear your sculpting professor is out to get you with these ridiculous projects. From cardboard cutouts to detailed portraits to clay. It’s a madhouse in the art department.

Using your modeling tool, you try to carve into the block of raku clay that cost an arm and a leg to buy from the university’s private art supply store. It was a blessing and a curse to have it so conveniently placed right across the hall from your sculpting class. The clay and tool alone cost you $27 that you’ll never see again. This degree better be worth it. You look at your desk partner and see that she’s going to town on her clay block. She cuts, carves and scoops at it like she’s done it a thousand times over. Clay sculpting is a completely different wheelhouse you’re not used to but you’re always willing to learn. Hopefully fast.

You quickly check your phone, residual dried clay sprinkling onto the screen as you click on it. 7:50 PM. It’s time to wrap it up for the day. Almost in sync, your professor calls time and you all begin to clean up. You clean off your work station diligently and swing your bag over your shoulder, wishing everyone a good night as you leave. The walk to your car is peaceful. The night is quiet and the air is cool and clear. Truth be told, you were opposed to taking a night class at the start, probably afraid you’d get jumped at night or something irrational like that. But now it’s what you look forward to during the week. Being left alone with your own thoughts and decompressing from the day in the evening is just so therapeutic. Finally making it to your car, you get in, closing and locking the door after. Now that your hands are free from dried clay, you go through your missed messages for the evening. As soon as you turn off do not disturb your screen is flooded with missed calls and text notifications. Your eyes widen and confusion floods your mind as you scroll to the very first message.

#1 Hater🏆: yo, lost my drumsticks. you seen em?

delivered 6:15 PM

#1 Hater🏆 missed call

#1 Hater🏆: yeah you totally took em u little shit

delivered 6:30 PM

#1 Hater🏆 missed call (2)

#1 Hater🏆 missed call (4)

#1 Hater🏆: ik damn well you’re not ignoring me rn

#1 Hater🏆: i’ll go in your room rn and throw out that shitty rug. keep playin

delivered 7:05 PM

You laugh at his empty threat of a message and roll your eyes. What he had against your rug, you didn’t know. Buying a rep was cheaper than the real thing. KAWS is not a brand that’s in your tax bracket. And of course you didn’t know where his drumsticks were. He usually keeps all his music equipment locked away somewhere so it’s most likely his fault for losing them. You’re about to turn off your phone when a ping sounds from your device, a new message shining brightly on your screen.

#1 Hater🏆: forgot you were at your night class. probably got me on dnd anyways

#1 Hater🏆: still gonna give you hell for stealing my shit tho

delivered 8:03 PM

You type back a quick reply.

You: don’t have ur sticks. touch my rug and u die. I’ll be back in 5 to kick ur ass for blaming me

You shut your phone off and start your car, pulling out of the parking lot and driving back to the dorms.

Once you’re back you walk through the living room and make a beeline to your room. You open your door and what you see inside is enough to fuel nightmares. A rather deranged looking Bakugou has his hip leaned up against your windowsill, arms crossed over his chest as a single lamppost from outside your window illuminates one side of his face. He looks at you. Stares even and doesn’t say a single word.

“Is there a reason you’re just sitting in the dark like a weird-ass Disney villain or?” You flick on the light switch next to the door, drenching your room with light. It’s only then that you notice your floor is rather bare. This motherfucker.

He must have seen your reaction judging by the way his eyes follow your gaze to your now exposed wood flooring. A shit eating grin spreads across his face, damn near splitting it in two. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You’d hate to beat his ass over something so trivial but it’s getting harder to restrain yourself. You force yourself to look him in the eyes as you speak very very carefully.

“Kats… you wouldn’t happen to know where my rug is would you?”

He straightens up and walks towards you, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his sweats, a cocky bounce in his stride.

“Dunno. My shit’s missing too. Must be a ghost or somethin’.” Not a lick of remorse escapes his mouth. He’s smug. He’s proud of himself and he even came back to the scene of the crime just to taunt you. Your left eye twitches, patience wearing thin.

“I’ll ask you one more time for the sake of being generous. Where. Is my. Rug.” He shrugs and feigns innocence.

“Fuck around and find out.”

The hell did he just say? Is he really trying to pick a fight right now? Usually you’re the one keeping the peace but this man has now dragged your innocent rug into his thick headed nonsense. You chuckle in disbelief and look at the ground, shaking your head slightly.

“‘Fuck around and find out?’ Huh… aight then.” Bag still slung over your shoulder, you unzip the smallest pocket and pull out the modeling tool you used earlier for your sculpting class. You grip it tightly in your palm, the pointed edge facing outwards. Bakugou’s cocky façade waivers a bit but he doesn’t show it. His left eyebrow quirks up in interest.

“Tryna stab me with an art supply?” You’re not really gonna stab him. Just scare him into giving you your stuff back. Maybe…

“You said fuck around and find out right? So imma fuck you up til I find out where my shit is.” You drop your bag on the ground and rush at him all at once. His once calm demeanor switches to sudden shock and he moves to dodge your swing.

“Dude what the fuck!? Will you chill?” He doesn’t know whether he’s shouting in annoyance or fear, though he’ll never admit the latter. You turn around to where he’s standing behind you, modeling tool still tightly clutched in hand.

“Give me my shit back then!”

“Cmon it’s a shitty knock off. You really gonna stab me over a $30 rug?”

“And you really stole a $30 rug over a $15 pair of drumsticks?”

“Cuz you stole em!”

“I didn’t steal anything. I don’t even know where you keep them Kats! Plus I haven’t been in the dorms since 8 this morning.” His face stills and his brain sorts through what you’d just said. It made sense really. Today was your long day this week. You’d been gone from 8 AM to 8 PM.

He straightens up from his defensive stance and looks away, rubbing the back of his nape. “Okay well even if you didn’t take em, still don’t know where they are. Everyone’s a suspect right now.”

“Then why aren’t everyone else’s things missing?”

He shakes his head and corrects you. “Nah, I took a piece of everyone’s shit too not just you. It’s all stashed til someone fesses up.” You stare at him like he’s grown two heads, face turned up in disapproval and disbelief.

“Aight Kats whatever. You know it’s not me, so can I please have my rug back?” At this point you where drained from classes and just wanted to rest. Not to mention using the last of your energy to attack this idiot.

He walks to your door and opens it, the creak of the door signaling his great escape. “Ask me nicely.” He’s closing the door behind himself now, but you’re quick to yell out.

“Dude are you seriou-”

“Under the bed.” With that, he closes the door and you’re left in silence. You kneel on the ground and look under your bed and just as he said, your rug is there safe and sound. You pull it out from its hiding spot and place it back in its respective spot on the floor. You let out a deep sigh of relief which can be heard by the eavesdropping figure just outside your door. He chuckles to himself and walks to his room. Truth be told he found his drumsticks minutes before you came back to the dorms. He was just too embarrassed to tell you he found them after misplacing them himself and blaming you for it. Plus, it was more fun this way. Minus the potential stabbing part.

[dontfindmerain]

she'll get me high (but at a cost)

my very late submission for the Common Fanfiction Trope Event created by the amazing @drop-of-void

CW!!! mentions of abuse, use of the word 'slut/whore', mentions of drugs, implied death, mentions of a gun, you/your pronouns, no use of y/n

wilbur x abused!reader - 877 words

notes: ive been very ill but i didnt want to miss out on the event so as per my usual way of turning assignments in, im doing this on the last day :) poorly written and not proofread, but enjoy

more notes: the character abusing the reader is not given a name and is referred to as he or him and is separate from wilbur.

“Fucking hell- You stupid whore you can’t do anything right c- can you?” he hiccups, slurring all of his words and screaming at you. “I tell you to go buy the drugs you fucking buy them!”

“You- you didn’t give me any money…” you whisper. He only looks at you for a moment before shoving past you and rummaging through the entire house. He comes back a while later on the phone with someone.

“... want as much as I can get for ‘em. No no, I promise, they’re quite the pretty thing. Five hundred? Oh come on. Fine, three hundred. Yeah yeah, we’ll be there soon. No, I won't damage a single hair on its head. ‘Their’, whatever.”

He hangs up and grabs your arm harshly, “Come on slut, we’re going for a ride.” He drags you to his beat up, shitty excuse for a car and restrains you, putting a blindfold around your eyes tightly. He throws you into the backseat and you can hear him start the car. He drives for a long while, swerving quite a lot. You would’ve slept if you weren’t scared shitless. At first all you hear is regular traffic and people bustling in the streets, which slowly turns silent. The sound of cars passing becomes less and less frequent, concrete roads turning into dirt as he leaves the city behind and drives faster. The faint light you can see through your blind fold is gone now and hours have passed.

When the car slows to a stop, he grumbles and gets out, leaving you there. You hear muffled talking and then yelling and then-

A loud gunshot sounds from outside.

You flinch when the car door to your left opens and you scream and kick when the mystery person drags you out.

“Hey hey- Stop- OW- Fucking stop kicking me- Darling I’m trying to help you-”

You stop. The voice belongs to a man, but not the one who brought you here. It’s sultry and… British?

The blindfold is lifted and your eyes are blessed with the sight of the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s on his knees to be at your level, in a white button down and black slacks. His sleeves are rolled up and the top three buttons of his shirt are undone. Holy fuck.

He chuckles, (music to your ears), and smiles at you. “Hello there, love. Might wanna close your mouth before you catch some flies, yeah?” He says, pushing your jaw closed with two fingers. Your face turns red and you look away from him, finally taking in your surroundings. The two of you are alone in a large clearing surrounded by tall grass and towering trees, the sky is almost pitch black and car lights illuminate his silhouette. He looks like heaven. You look at him again and speak in a broken tone, “Who are you?”

“The name’s Wilbur,” he replies, too casually, as if your meeting is the most normal thing in the world.

“Wilbur what.. What the fuck is happening?”

“Shh, come on pet, let's get you somewhere safe,” He coos, gently picking you up and placing you into his vehicle, climbing in with you to set you on his lap, “It’ll be alright love.” He speaks with two men outside for a moment, something about taking care of someone, before closing the door. Wilbur holds you calmly, softly speaking words you can’t understand and petting your head.

“Sleep, pet.” He commands, so sweet and addictive you’re sure he’ll rot your teeth.

Exhaustion from the adrenaline leaves you unconscious within minutes.

When you wake up, Wilbur is carrying you in his arms. He walks into a bedroom, shutting and locking the door and placing you onto soft, silk sheets darker than the night sky. “There we go, sweet thing,” he whispers, almost as if he’s talking to himself. He tentatively lifts the hem of your shirt, “Darling? Can I get you into some clean clothes?” The raggedy shirt that hung loosely of your frame was worn and smelled of cigarettes, weed, and sweat. You nodded and let him pull you apart, piece by piece until none of your body was covered.

It took everything in him not to worship and praise your body then and there, physically having to pull himself away to get some of his own clothes for you. When you slipped his large t-shirt over your head, it only made you more irresistible.

Wilbur showed you around, gave you his guest room, "If you disagree with the colours or the furniture just let me know and I'll have them changed to whatever you like, flower."

He was kind, loving and attentive. He kept your favourite foods stocked in his pantry and offered to take you shopping for clothes, but you wore his anyway, finding comfort in his scent surrounding you. 

His.

It was his arms you woke up in the next morning. His clothes you wore as you padded down the stairs, barefoot and confused. His table you sleepily ate breakfast at. You didn't ask any questions. You trusted him blindly, willingly.

Because this had to be better than every other morning you spent searching pointlessly for food in that shitty basement.

Right...?

[thedroneranger]

The Drone Ranger's Be Kind Rewind ⏪ clancycucumber230 Edition!

A rec reblog series dedicated to the fics that we love so much, we've re-read them!

The next Rewind has landed: @clancycucumber230! Also, we have our first all Jake Seresin Rewind!

While we continue to churn out amazing new content, let's be kind and rewind to look at some of the OG content we love! And don't forget to reblog when you re-read! Continue to show your comfort fics and favorite creators some love. It helps keep the fresh content coming :)

Let's keep this going throughout the summer, so if you're interested in participating in the Be Kind Rewind, message me. The more, the merrier!

If you want to know when a new Rewind drops, join the tag list, and check out previous Rewinds!

fics below the cut (listed in alphabetical order by title)

Reader note: I’m an unapologetic Jake girl, although I’ve been dipping my toe in the water of Bob and Bradley recently. Jake’s character is so open, I love all the different ways he has been written by so many amazing authors. Not to mention Glen Powell is so god damn hot! Huge thank you to all writers in this fandom for your contributions!

can't unfeel that, @theharddeck FWB that have caught feelings. Really sweet and the breeding kink in this is off the charts hot.

Fruits of My Labor, @roosterbruiser I’m highlighting ‘Fruits of My Labor.’ It’s a heartbreakingly beautiful read. I would be remiss if I didn't mention The Fuck universe, though. This is a masterpiece with my favourite OC callsign Wisteria!

Hotshot, @topguncortez This first TGM smut I read. It’s rivals to lovers with electric banter and sexual tension. G has a masterlist that will rip your heart out and put it back together all at once. She’s also queen of the pregnancy trope.

Line of Sight, @top-hhun A three-parter ,featuring a reserved Jake protecting reader that flows into fake dating. It’s filled with sexual tension and possibility.

Operation Apollo, @sunlightmurdock This work isn’t complete yet but I have reread multiple times. Jake and Apollos’s growth from enemies to lovers to two people that just need each other is so natural. Throw in a shitty father, suspense and some smut smut smut and it’s a delicious read.

Slow Burn, @ereardon Jake gets Kate pregnant after a one night stand and it’s full of angst, love and dagger squad. Em is queen of the slow burn. Shes got a masterlist of my favourite tropes: pregnancy trope, Dad!Jake, Frat!Jake, Roomie!Jake, exes to lovers, plus Bob and Bradley series’ too. The OCs and settings she writes are also incredibly detailed. If I’m reading a book I can’t get into, this is where I go.

Teaching You Respect, @enchanting-eloquence Anything where Jake is taken down a peg by a strong woman is so SO good! This fic is cold shower amazing.

Terms of Endearment, @ohtobeleah TOE's Jake and Amilia are some of the best characters I’ve ever read. They have so much depth. Every time Leah answers a question about these two I have five more.

The Off-Season, @ereardon One of my most favourite series’. I’m so invested in these characters. They have the best banter and chemistry. Plus you can’t go wrong with the forbidden sibling trope!

Who Did This to You?, @justfandomwritings The first one shot I ever read. It’s got protective Jake with a new friend in need of help with her abusive ex.

I wish I could write, but I can’t, so here is a current read I’m absolutely loving:

Brother's Best Friend, @tongue-like-a-razor

Tag list and friends: @petcr3 @desert-fern @Sagittarius-Lovewitch @mygyn @sweetwhispersofchaos @horseshoegirl @the-annoying-fan @dingochef @moon42flight @thecitysgraveyard @ereardon @roosterforme @cherrycola27 @galaxy-of-stories @taytaylala12 @malindacath @violyn20 @awildewit @potato-girl99981 @shanimallina87 @blue-aconite @djs8891 @linkpk88 @furiousladyking @daggerspare-standingby @princess76179 @jstarr86 @hecate-steps-on-me @darkheartcherry @soulmates8 @roosters-girl @dempy @roosterisdaddy36 @hangmanscoming @s-u-t @mavrellover91 @chicomonks @averyhotchner 

A kind reminder, this is a 18+ blog. While not all stories in the recommendation list are 18+, please respect boundaries and do not interact unless you are 18 years of age or older.

[mariamakeslemons]

Chapter 7 (Turned into a Frog and Crushed)

TW: pseudo-animal death

It's always fun to use tried and true magic tropes. Especially to kill a certain Austrian.

Gaz may or may not be sulking in the rec room right now, arms crossed and pout on his face. Soap, however, is absolutely taking the piss out of him.

“It’s okay,” the Scotsman coos mockingly, “Ye don’ need tae see yer love e’ery day.”

“Fuck off with that,” Gaz grouses, pouting harder at the wall. You told him about Ostara coming up and how busy the shop can get.

“I love you, but I need to focus on work before Ostara. Once we’ve passed it, I’ll take you out on a date. Wherever you want to go, I’ll go.” He didn’t necessarily want that promise, but the foot traffic in your shop was picking up already and you were obviously needed by the customers shopping. So, he accepted Price’s new hat (“His name is Price?!” “Yeah, what did you think it was?” “Captain.”) from you and left back to Base. So, here he is, maybe pouting, as he waits for something to happen.

“Wut’s your problem?” Ghost asks, leaning on the back of the sofa Gaz is currently laying on.

“He’s pou’in’ ‘cause he cannae see his bonnie witch,” Soap immediately rats out, yelping when Gaz flings a pillow at the Scots’ head. Ghost just watches as his boyfriend drops from the “attack”, humming while sipping from a water bottle.

“Why can’ you see ‘em?” Ghost asks, acting polite. Gaz immediately feels tomfoolery happening, looking up at Ghost warily.

“…They’re busy with the upcoming holiday,” Gaz eventually answers.

“Pussy,” Ghost immediately states, dodging the second pillow Gaz throws.

“Gaz, pick ‘em up,” Price sighs upon stepping into the room and seeing the pillows on the floor.

“Yes sir,” he groans, rolling off the couch and onto his feet. Picking up one, Gaz yelps and falls over when a sudden burst of smoke appeared beside him.

“Young Kyle, I need your assistance,” Prometheus declares, holding tightly onto a goliath bullfrog as a white cat lounges on his shoulders. The old man explains, “I fear we must act soon if Child is to recover their magic at all.”

“What do you mean?” Gaz asks weakly as Ghost, Price, and Soap all point guns at the old witch.

“Who are you?” Price growls, narrowing his eyes at the old witch. The white cat turns its head to look at Price, blinking once. Its eyes change from that of a feline to uncomfortably human.

“Do not speak to my beloved like that, Jonathan Price,” the cat hisses in the voice of an older man. Without looking, Prometheus taps the cat’s head.

“Merlin, please stop using Allan as a telephone,” he scolds as Gaz chokes. Price drops his gun, obviously thrown at the talking cat and the use of the name of the legendary Wizard. The cat huffs before blinking again, its eyes appearing like a normal cat’s once more. It settles back on his shoulder and watches as Prometheus turns and bows toward Price.

“I do apologize for my rudeness, but I need the help of my apprentice’s soulmate to break the Bond that has been placed on them,” he explains. Soap and Ghost lower their guns as well, looking between Gaz, Prometheus, and Price.

“There’s a way t’ do that!?” Gaz asks excitedly.

“Who are y’ talkin’ about?” Price asks with a frown. Gaz jumps and offers a sheepish grin while Prometheus blinks, as if just realizing the others are still in the room.

“My apologies again,” the old witch offers, “I go by the name of Prometheus, and I am the Child’s teacher. I believe you recently helped them with recovering a certain fool’s body from an extremely dangerous creature.” Gaz sees when everything clicks in his team’s head, as Ghost and Soap relax a little while Price leans forward.

“So, there’s a way to sever the Bond that König forced on them?” their captain asks, crossing his arms.

“Indeed,” Prometheus says, even as the frog in his hand starts croaking loudly, “It will be slightly difficult, however, it is possible with my help along with their cooperation.” He gives the frog a slight squeeze, causing the frog to let out an almost yelp noise, “And, as the bastard that Bound them is not a magician in any sense of the word, it won’t matter if he knows or not.”

“…Wait,” Ghost pauses, before looking purposefully at the bullfrog. Said frog goes very still, seeming to make eye contact with Ghost, before letting out a rapid, terrified series of croaks when Ghost grabs the thing.

“This him,” he states, waving around the obviously distressed frog.

“Of course it is,” Prometheus admits unapologetically, “He’s the bastard that has been stealing magic he can’t even use from my apprentice. Being turned into a frog is the least of his worries.”

“Wait, stealin’ magic?” Soap pipes in, “How’s ‘e able tae do tha’?” Prometheus waves his hand holding said frog, uncaring of the trauma he’s obviously putting König through.

“That is admittedly another thing I wish to ask your help with,” the old man says, “Humans should not be able to take magic, in its purest form, from any magician of any kind. It should convert into energy that the body uses, usually as an accelerate when healing. However, he is somehow pulling the magic from Child without changing it into something he can use.”

“Wut,” Ghost growls, storming over to grab the frog from the witch and lifting him even higher, “Wut did y’ fuckin’ do?”

“Easy, Ghost,” Price tries to soothe, although it’s obvious that he’s not really trying. Honestly, Gaz doesn’t want Ghost calmed, not with the other man’s reaction.

“Capt’n, there’s only a handful ‘f ways f’r magic t’ be stolen. All ‘f them are dangerous t’ the magician ‘n’ illegal in 97% ‘f th’ world. This fuck’s in part of th’ 97%,” Ghost growls, looking like he’s about to slam the frog onto the ground.

“Killin’ ‘m in’nit gonna do shite, Si,” Soap pipes in, “It’s pro’ly gonna get mor’ magic pulled from Gaz’s bonnie.” Ghost hesitates before lowering his hand with a growl. The Austrian takes advantage of the lower height, leaping out of Ghost’s hand to flee to some corner of the room. Prometheus watches with disdain as his familiar hops off his shoulder, stalking the frog around the room.

“Loath as I am to ask, especially with your reaction,” Prometheus begins, “I am curious. How do you know there are such ways?” Ghost freezes, before slowly turning to glare at the old man.

“Fucker tried t’ use me t’ summon a demon,” he growls, “Needed magic from somewhere.” Gaz flinches at that confession, while Prometheus purses his lips. The old witch bows deeply to Ghost.

“I find I must apologize once again,” the old man offers, “For causing you pain, I offer a favor at your disposal.” Ghost clicks his tongue and turns away, focusing more on Soap, who had come over to comfort Ghost. Turning away to offer the couple some privacy, Prometheus requests to Price and Gaz, “I will need to ask that Kyle do a few things, nothing that will injure him, but must be done to entice their magic to want to Bond with him over the frog’s.”

“What’s ‘e need to do?” Price asks, crossing his arms while Gaz glances over at Ghost and Soap worriedly. Luckily, it seems that Ghost is calming down, so Gaz turns back to listen to Prometheus.

“He needs to soak with a few herbs. Basil, catnip, jasmine, lavender, red clover and sweetpea, specifically. It will enhance the natural attraction between soulmates, despite how it will smell,” Prometheus explains as both Gaz and Price wince at the thought of how he’ll smell after soaking. He assures them, “He only needs to soak in those herbs for ten minutes through the week. After soaking, he can shower it off, but it must be ten minutes at least.”

“Got it,” Gaz agrees easily. Prometheus pulls out a bracelet with alternating red crystals hanging from the silver chain.

“You will have to wear this as well,” the old witch instructs, “These are rubies and red fire quartz. It will help the attraction amplify to catch their magic enough to easily shift the Bond to you.”

“What about the Bond they already have with the bastard?” Price asks before there is a loud squishing sound. Spinning around, Gaz sees Ghost staring down at his boot, a cold look in his eye while Soap looks done with his boyfriend.

“Did you just step on the idiot and squish him?” Price asks with a groan.

“…Maybe,” Ghost says, dodging the question without being insubordinate.

“‘E did,” Soap immediately throws him under the bus. Gaz can’t help but snort as Ghost turns and pulls Soap into a headlock. Prometheus sighs and pulls out a small 4 ounce mason jar.

“Do not worry,” the witch assures them, idly unscrewing the mason jar’s lid, “I prepared for this.” As soon as the lid is removed, there’s a sudden sucking noise that makes all of the task force tense. He returns the lid on top of the jar, and a tiny looking König appears in the jar.

“Is that his soul?” Gaz asks, taking a step forward to get a better look. The now-tiny man flips him off, basically confirming that it is König’s soul.

“Unfortunately,” Prometheus sighs, “However, this will allow me to revive him instead of forcing my poor apprentice to do it and give up more magic to this useless walking piss stream.” Gaz chokes at that description, hearing Soap cackle gleefully while Ghost snorts. Price clears his throat, obviously fighting back his own laughter, before turning to the old man.

“Is there anything else you need us to do?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“Just have Kyle soak and keep the bracelet on for a week,” Prometheus instructs, glaring down at the jar before giving it a rather hard shake. The Austrian was likely cursing up a storm in that tiny jar, flopping all over the place. Once sure the bastard was properly abused, Prometheus flicks his fingers at the smear. The frog body is remade, but left empty as the old man scoops the body up.

“I will visit in one weeks time,” he declares, “Do as I say, and we shall be able to break the Bond your enemy has forced upon Child.”

“Got it,” Gaz acknowledges, watching as the old witch nods back and vanishes from the rec room with another burst of smoke. The task force stand in silence, mulling over the strange experience, but feeling lighter. This personal mission is almost done, the light at the end of the tunnel is near.

Poor Private Roach comes in and leaps in shock at the sight of the four of them with cruel grins on their faces.

[teetle-time]

Live or Die, Man, We Need Each Other (Part 1 of ???)

Shortly after the invasion, Leo and his brothers go on their first post-Krang mission: stopping a different ominous group of occultists from summoning a being of unknowable power from another (non-prison) dimension to wreak havoc. Evil never rests, after all, even if he and his bros should probably still be recovering from their last big all-out battle.

Meanwhile, Danny just wants to take a fucking nap.

Surely this won't turn into something absolutely massive in scale that sucks them all in.

(or, so do yall remember that Danny Phantom crossover that's been haunting me? yeah lol behold. throwing some ghost king danny in a blender with the rise guys and some classic tmnt tropes that rise never really got a chance to explore, with an eventual side of textfic/chatfic, jack and maddie fenton trying to be good parents, dani, the epf, the giw, roughly one and a half farmhouse arcs, rise-ifications of minor characters from previous tmnt iterations, and *checks notes* shelldon my son <3)

Not actually posting to ao3 right away this time I think- I kinda wanna polish/tweak this bit a lil more first, but I figured this first bit works well enough on its own! also i wanted to infect yall w/ the brainworms because a mere 8 dp-only xovers on ao3 feels like it should be illegal <3

〜

There was an electric charge in the air as Leo peered down at the cultists from the rafters.

Considering the fact that the charge felt like a portal despite Leo's lack of portaling intent, he would bet away his rights to the final pizza slice for a month that something was about to come through.

The cult below (not the Foot, shockingly enough) had chanted enough Latin that Donnie had gone pale upon checking his tech for a translation, so that 'something' probably wasn't good, either.

Just how Leo wanted to spend the end of his first full day off his crutches.

Really.

(Idly, he wondered if there was any point to being so bitingly sarcastic in his own mind when nobody could hear him anyway.)

He met Raph's eyes, then Mikey's, then Donnie's, each of them mirroring his own resignation and resolve.

"Veni ad nos, Rex inquieti Mortuorum!" cried the cultists as one. "Veni ad nos ut serviamus tuo glorioso proposito in mundo viventium!"

Leo opened the mind meld for a split second. Right, so I caught "rex," "mortuorum," and "serviamus." All in favor of sending these idiots to the Pain Train?

That got matching smirks from his brothers, and Leo grinned back before flipping down from the ceiling and dropping into the main mass of observing cultists. "Hey, guys, I think I got a bit lost. I was looking for the bathroom, but it looks like I found a bunch of would-be world-conquerers instead!"

The face of one of the lead cultists, the one at the head of the summoning circle, contorted into an expression of rage almost comically intense- and, to be quite honest, second only to Casey's extremely emotive face.

And then the rest of the cultists swarmed him.

Luckily, his brothers had only been a split second behind him, and the four of them wove between cultists with ease when possible and laid the hurt on 'em when slipping through wasn't an option.

"We gotta break that circle!" called Mikey worriedly. "Barry told me even circles half as ornate still summon things way above our pay grade!"

"We're getting paid?" quipped Leo, even as he zeroed in on the circle and slashed his katanas through the air. "What, we get an allowance now?"

No portal of his own appeared, his energy immediately flowing into the air just above the circle instead. Lovely.

As Leo inwardly rolled his eyes and just pressed further through the mass of people, Raph's crimson projection shot overhead. "POWER SMASH JUTSU!"

While Raph did successfully manage to bring his glowing fists down on the circle with enough force to shake the ground and knock the cultists nearest him off their feet, the circle only glowed an ominous acid green, completely untouched despite the now-massive cracks in the concrete around it.

The lead cultist laughed from where he'd fallen to the ground. "Yes! Yes! The King has heard our call and is coming to do our bidding!"

Leo watched in horror as the acid green crackled into icy blue, and as the temperature plummeted, an eerie voice rang through the warehouse.

"Uh, the only bidding I was planning on doing today was in an online auction for a rare piece of Dumpty Humpty merch."

What.

All motion froze, and Leo found himself gawking as smoke billowed from the circle before coalescing into…a white-haired humanoid teenager.

"And I'm pretty sure that auction just got sniped from me with 10 seconds left on the clock, but instead of getting the chance to snipe it back, I got yanked out here," snarked the teenager, glaring at the hooded cultists with eyes the same acid green as the circle had been.

One of his eyebrows lifted slightly at the sight of Leo and his bros, but otherwise he paid them no mind.

One of the cultists spluttered. "What-?! You're not the Ghost King!"

The teen's face went flat. "No, actually, I'm pretty sure I am. Wasn't planning on it, but, yknow, the old guy picked a fight with me a few years back. If it's him you wanted, uh…you're shit outta luck. I don't really do things his way."

The cultists all started turning towards the teen in anger, but-

One.

One single flick of his wrist, and the cultists were all encased in ice, save for small holes just in front of their noses and mouths.

That was all it took.

The teen groaned and dropped his head into his hands, some of the eerie reverb fading from his voice. "And today's a test day."

"Uhhh…" said Leo intelligently.

The teen stiffened, then stood up straight and scratched at the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "Ah, shit, sorry about all this. Were these idiots trying to sacrifice you? Cultists have a tendency to do that, even though I keep telling them not to."

"Um, no…Your Majesty…?" tried Raph, his voice rising to a squeak at the end.

"Ugh, ew, please no." The teen grimaced. "You can just call me Phantom. Or my first name, but I'm not really sure I wanna say that out loud with these guys right here." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at one of the cultists, who helpfully made a furious little peep in the ice.

"Fair enough," said Mikey, getting his metaphorical feet under him just before Leo could. He clapped his hands together cheerfully, and only Leo's lifetime of growing up with Mikey let him still see his younger brother's nerves. "So, are there any rules or anything for that summoning circle that need to be put into action before you can go back to your online auctions?"

Phantom shrugged. "I mean, technically if there's still somebody conscious around, I still have to make a deal before I can leave, but I'd be willing to get these guys to the cops with evidence of their crimes in exchange for directions back to Illinois."

Leo met Donnie's eyes. He could see the urge to ask Phantom every question in the English language.

Donnie shot him a pleading look.

Leo pressed his beak together thinly, then smiled at Phantom. "As long as that evidence doesn't include us four. And also my twin bro over there wants to be able to ask you things. Probably all the things."

"I can keep you out of it," Phantom agreed immediately. "I know what it's like to wanna stay on the down-low, trust me. Though…I probably can't stay very long, but I can make an email address so we can keep in touch?"

"That would be splendid!" declared Donnie, a grin already splitting his face.

"Sweet," said Phantom. With a snap of his fingers, the cultists and their icy cases shot out the door, the circle's light died, and a slip of paper appeared in front of Donnie. "Now, uh…how do I get to Illinois?"

Seeing Donnie preoccupied with entering the text on the paper into his systems, Leo went to pull out his phone, but Raph beat him to it, already opening up TelloMaps and showing Phantom. "Well, it's a bit of a ways away, but-"

Phantom's hands flew up to grab at his hair. "I'M IN NEW YORK?!"

Leo frowned. "Hey, what's wrong with New York?"

"Nothing!" said Phantom far too cheerily, already lifting into the air. "Except! It is an almost 900 mile flight and I have cl-uh, gotta be somewhere in under two hours! Gotta go, I'll keep in touch, can't stay any longer BYE!"

And he shot out one of the upper windows in a flash, leaving only a skybound sonic boom in his wake.

Leo blinked. "…huh. D'ya think he knows I could just portal him there, or…?"

Mikey visibly deflated into Donnie's side. "Ohhhmegosh, Barry's gonna lose it when I tell him about this."

"Woah, woah, hold on, who says we gotta tell him anything?" Leo asked.

"Bro, the 'old guy' Phantom mentioned?" Mikey quirked a brow ridge at him. "That'd be Pariah Dark, a violent ghost who ascended to the ghost throne right about when humanity was learning about this hot new thing called 'fire.' Barry taught me about it on, like, my second day of mystic training. Dude was so big and bad his subjects had to revolt and lock him up, like the Shredder on steroids except without the evil armor possessing him."

Donnie pressed his palms together and lifted them against his beak, the perfect picture of someone who'd just realized something horrifying. "Is the throne passed down through, perchance, a line of conquest?"

Mikey nodded. "But usually mystics tend to figure that anybody who could beat Pariah Flippin' Dark would be even bigger and badder than him. Except…"

Raph's face was turned down in a thoughtful frown. "He sounded…kinda like a normal human teenager our age. Except for the 'dead' thing. Did he actually mention Dumpty Humpty, or was Raph just hearing things?"

"If he'd known there'd been a change in power, Barry would've told me," Mikey continued. "Not just because I'm his favorite, but because he knows I'm just chaotic enough to think about trying bigger things on my own, and learning about the Ghost King is kinda huge."

"Only thinking, though, right, Mikey?" prodded Raph sternly.

"Scout's honor!" chirped he immediately.

"Is that even something we can say after we failed at being Todd Scouts…?" Leo trailed off.

"Casey made me an honorary Brownie Scout when she came to visit after the invasion and you guys were all out cold," said Mikey unapologetically.

"I wonder what happened 'a few years back,' and what a white-haired fellow teen from Illinois had to do with it," mused Donnie, helpfully bringing the conversation back around to the important bit.

"Betcha Hueso might be in the know," Leo suggested. "He's a yokai instead of a ghost, but being a skeleton yokai might mean he knows stuff like this."

"Let's get home before we do anything else," said Raph. "I can see Leo's legs shaking under his weight."

"What?" Leo protested. "My legs aren't-!"

Unhelpfully, his knees knocked together hard enough to draw his attention to where they were, in fact, shaking from the effort of holding himself up.

"Ah, crud," Leo groaned. "Never mind. I can still portal us home, though, at least."

"That's what I thought," Raph snorted. "Besides, I think this whole Ghost King mess can probably wait until we're all sitting down, if that's the new guy."

Mikey nodded. "Gotta give ya that. Barry'll probably still make a funny face, though."

"Eh, let him." Leo hefted himself up onto Raph's shell, then leaned to the side and sliced a portal open. "Vámanos!"

〜

As Danny streaked over Pennsylvania, he dug out his phone and started tapping at the email app Tucker had coded a few months back. It'd been mostly for laughs- who on Team Phantom even needed email when they all had Fenton Phones? and even regular phones, nowadays?- but it was just as secure as everything else Tucker made, and as it turned out, it was exactly what he needed this morning.

Better to have it open in the background so he knew when the purple turtle guy got around to emailing him.

Once he made sure he still remembered his password, he pocketed the phone again and pushed himself a little faster. He'd clearly gotten faster since the last time he'd checked- the sonic boom was honestly his first clue- but he couldn't keep that kind of speed up for very long yet, and he was still over…looked like Ohio, now.

Oh, wait, there was a 'welcome to Ohio' sign just up ahead- and he passed it.

Now he was in Ohio.

All that to say, he still couldn't afford to slow down in distraction for very long if he wanted to get to class in a bit more than an hour.

As if waiting for Danny to think exactly that, his phone buzzed.

He tugged it back out to check, and it buzzed again in his hand.

The first notification was a text from Jazz: 'I saw you weren't in your room just now. Fight or flight?'

The second was an email from an alphabootyyyshaker9000@geniusbuilt.com- an email that seemed more like an essay, if the shortened version in the notification meant anything.

Danny grimaced, made sure he was aligned with a highway down below so he wouldn't drift off-course, and tapped out a response for Jazz.

'flight. bookin it rn, p far. tell u later, but im ok'

She responded with an immediate thumbs-up and smiley emoji combo.

"Never change, Jazz," Danny huffed with a grin.

Then he tried to look at the email.

'Tried' being the key word.

Luckily, the purple turtle had prefaced his email with the sentences 'You are welcome to answer this once you have the time. You did mention being in a rush at the moment.'

Relieved, Danny shoved his phone back in his pocket and turned his attention towards his own personal Get-Back-Home 100% Speedrun.

[fuckmeyer]

something i've been thinking about a lot (besides how unhinged i am for picking apart the Twilight saga again) is the ineffective use of words in Eclipse.

take a look at this honking nugget of text

don't me wrong. i appreciate that it 1) illustrates Bella doing normal stuff, 2) gives us an intimate peek into her personality (stubbornly arranging fridge magnets? questioning one's neurodivergency? cool!), 3) throws in a bit of Bella-style humor, 4) talks about magnets, & 5) gives us a metaphor, however redundant

what i dislike is:

the redundant metaphor. look, i'm a sucker for metaphors (however redundant), but at this point we're a few chapters into Eclipse. Bella's narration and concrete examples tell us Jacob & Edward cannot coexist. the metaphor is as redundant as my mentioning my love of metaphors, redundant or otherwise.

the technicality of the writing. i.e., the hulking parenthetical between the em dashes. "round black utilitarian pieces that were my favorites bec—" that alone takes FORTY-TWO WORDS. nearly 20% of a 226-word metaphor for Jacob & Edward describes fucking magnets. i love magnets too, but damn, girl. stop

the emptiness of the text. 226 words, who cares, right? fluff is part of the saga's charm. yes. but! it's now book 3. we're knee deep in a thematic discussion about humanity & juggling several sideplots. for every 226 words we spend watching Bella push magnets together, we have 226 fewer words to spend developing relationships with Bella's vamp fam or her wolfpack pals. that's 226 words we won't spend fleshing out plots, tying up conflict from New Moon, or setting up Breaking Dawn. are the 226 words useless? no. but do we not already have a sense of the conflict & what's at stake here? can't we be fluffy and economical?

if this was a one-time deal, i would say yes, bring on the fucking magnets (& metaphors). but superfluous text is not an anomaly

this ends chapter 11. instead of hooking the reader to turn the page, Bella tells us which words we're meant to notice, her reaction, then dismisses said reaction.

the broader issue: despite the cool lil rabbit holes to explore in Eclipse, Bella insists on holding our hand for all of them. explaining (& dismissing?) every observation limits our scope & makes the book unsatisfying. Bella can (should!) notice lil details, but making readers draw their own conclusions gives them the freedom to explore the book in new ways & gives Bella the freedom to show us more story

but this worsens as the book continues. don't even get me started on the ~4,250 words smeyer takes to appropriate the history of a real tribe. it is meant to add lore to shapeshifting & give Bella an idea for saving Edward later on in the novel. in doing so it perpetuates racist tropes & stereotypes about certain American tribes.

point is, these words add up. the fluff becomes cloying for how much remains unresolved. it gives us too few opportunities to explore & draw our own conclusions. the overall message becomes muddled because there's too much nothing being said. anything of importance that is being said is repeated over & over.

this ineffective use of writing makes me feel like we're desperately clinging to the "normal yet ✨️supernatural✨️" vibes of Twilight while refusing to acknowledge that this series has become bigger than a simple "girl meets vampire, love ensues" pseudo-fairytale.

that is (one of) my problem(s) with Eclipse.

[rylanenthusiast]

Could you write a hackateers spin the bottle? With a rylan kiss?? :)

i’m not kidding i have so many prompts that came before this that i need to write but the second i saw this i RAN to write it. party games are one of my fav tropes to read so i was super excited to try writing it myself- hope i did it justice! (pun not intended)

side note: i couldn’t decide what song starts playing on dylan’s phone at that part so some options if you were curious are: ‘dark red’ by steve lacy, ‘black out days’ by phantogram, and ‘lost the game’ by two feet.

TW: a tiny bit of spice at the end i couldn’t help myself

It was one of those nights that Mr. H would leave the camp for the night, supposedly to go on some sort of “supply run”.

The kids were asleep in the main lobby of the lodge, sleeping bags strewn across the floor and fairy lights draped across the walls in a half assed attempt to make it seem more cozy.

The counsellors, however- they were upstairs in one of the spare bedrooms, sat in a circle on the floor. An empty beer bottle sat in the centre.

And Dylan was practically vibrating out his skin.

Was it from excitement or fear? He had no idea. Maybe both. Definitely both.

The reason for his nerves being that a certain hotter than hell camp counsellor sat across from him had miraculously agreed to join in their game of spin the bottle.

Dylan wasn’t a religious guy- but fuck did he thank whatever deity had his back when Ryan hadn’t immediately dismissed the idea of spin the bottle.

Chewing his lip anxiously, Dylan snuck a glance at the pretty boy sat in front of him, only to be hit with the realisation that he had already been looking at him with a…curious gaze.

Dylan immediately flicks his head to the girl that had suggested the game who was sat next to him, Emma. Having second thoughts, he leans over to her and whispers-

“Hey- Em?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you…100% sure this is a good idea?”

“Course’ I am.”

“Okay because I personally feel like I’m gonna throw up and-“

“Shh,” she hushes, placing a slender finger over his lips, “I told you I’d help you out. This is me helping you out.”

Dylan looks back at her with pained eyes, whining before running his hands down his face in defeat.

Emma suddenly claps her hands, the chatter in the room going silent, before she proudly announces,

“Okay losers! It’s game time.”

-

It had been…three or so rounds? Jacob had kissed Nick on the cheek (who had gone far too red at the “No homo” that Jacob had blurted immediately after), a very shy Abi had given Emma a chaste kiss on the lips before scurrying back to her seat, and Kaitlyn had outright refused to kiss Jacob because she had “childhood best friend rights”- whatever that meant.

Ryan was bored as hell.

It’s not like he’d expected anything all too interesting to happen anyway. He wasn’t even sure why he’d agreed in the first place, but something deep down in his gut had convinced him to do so.

And it definitely was not because of the way Dylan had been looking at him all night.

He wasn’t sure if the other boy was aware, but every so often he’d catch his eyes staring at him, filled to the brim with what Ryan could only describe as…want.

Suddenly, Ryan feels an elbow in his side, Kaitlyn nodding her head towards the bottle in the centre.

Guess it was his turn.

Wordlessly, he leans forwards and spins the bottle, his eyes glued to it the entire time.

Then it stops.

On the other end of the green bottle in from of him, was the boy that had been on his mind the entire night.

Dragging his gaze upwards, Ryan found himself looking at a very shocked Dylan. His cheeks had flushed pink all the way to the tips of his ears, doe brown eyes wide, and jaw slack in awe.

It was cute.

“Well?”

Dylan is snapped out of his thoughts, looking up at the boy ahead of him.

“Are you sure…?”

“Pretty sure it’s the rules of the game, man,” Ryan replies with an almost-smile and furrowed brows.

The entire room is silent, save for the music softly playing from Dylan’s phone on the wooden floor. Everyone else in the room is just as eager as the boys themselves for this month long tension to finally break.

It was about damn time.

Dylan nods his head and crawls towards Ryan before sitting with his legs tucked under himself in front of him.

He was overwhelmed to say the least, eyes darting frantically to examine the arcs and arches of the beautiful boys face sat in front of him.

“So do you want me to-“

Dylan’s abruptly cut off by the sensation of Ryan’s hands on his hips, pulling him forwards until he’s sat on his lap.

Holy fucking shit.

A yelp slips out of Dylan at the sudden movement, and then he’s looking down at Ryan’s face. His hands don’t move, their position on his hips seemingly permanent.

“Is that okay?” Ryan whispers, cocking his head slightly to the side.

“Yeah- Yeah definitely-“

“Cool.”

“…Cool.”

For a moment they’re just staring at eachother, Ryan focusing on the way he can feel Dylan’s body move with his cautious breaths- Dylan focusing on the way Ryan’s hands tighten slightly on his hips.

“Can I kiss you?” Ryan whispers.

“Please.”

Dylan leans down slowly to capture Ryan’s lips, one hand raising to cup his jaw and the other resting on the curve of his neck.

They both exhale into the kiss, minds fogging as they begin to allow their lips to move whilst a simulation is hum of satisfaction escapes the both of them.

Ryan’s thumb slips under the hem of Dylan’s shirt, lightly grazing the soft skin above his waistband. Dylan gasps, allowing Ryan to slip his tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss.

His hand tightens on the back of Ryan’s neck, a feeble attempt to ground himself. He unintentionally presses down onto Ryan’s lap, to which Ryan responds to with a deep groan and-

Oh.

They abruptly pull apart, eyes wide and faces flushed.

“You guys done?” Kaitlyn quips, a smirk etched onto her face.

“Y-Yeah we’re- we’re good. Fantastic, actually,” Dylan manages to stutter out.

Ryan chuckles at the flustered state of the boy, and Dylan is enamored. He grins back at him, before suddenly becoming very aware of their suggestive position and almost leaping off his lap in sudden embarassment.

As he retreats back to his position, the game resumes- although the two boys couldn’t be less involved in their surroundings, sneaking shy glances at each other for the rest of the game.

Dylan really hoped they’d be doing more of that for the rest of the summer.

[robotsdeservebetter]

People’s reaction to Eve’s powers in special episode made no sense. Parents were horrible just for the sake of being horrible. You’d think it would at least be something about Eve being a girl who’s interested in science, but no, they just??? Don’t like chemistry or something??? Because I didn’t recall them ever addressing her ability to see molecules despite not being able to read yet in any sense other than “it’s weird”. Okay, and? Val freaked out about Eve throwing a pink energy ball around, understandable, but, despite being a kid and Eve’s best friend didn’t show any interest??? Like, at all??? Uhmmm, if you’re taking a “misunderstood genius” trope, it doesn’t mean you get to leave viewers confused as well, you kinda have to do the opposite, show us why the genius is misunderstood. Otherwise, why take this trope at all? I can’t believe this hole takes place in the same show that has the Grayson family.

Eve is perfect, her brother hated it. She really is perfect: heroic, powerful, smart, kind. And that’s sort of where it ends. Essentially, her backstory is just people around her being paranoid and possibly having afantasia. (I’m focusing on Wilkins’ because they are what built Eve as a person, the story of her blood family and doctor is just trauma, I don’t see how it built her character aside from gifting a couple of mental troubles. Strength is work, gathering a personality is a path — neither can be properly gained through a single massive unworked trauma)

How much cooler it would’ve been, if Eve, say, had no problem changing and reviving living creatures, their tissues? If she hurt Val or her parents and was rightfully being lashed out at? Or if she did turn out a perfect weapon, so perfect she didn’t want a personality of her own? Or didn’t value people’s lives because, eh, just fix em, or, eh, everyone’s disposable. I personally like “fucked up character learns to be human” trope. It doesn’t even need to be that! Just! Make reactions make sense! Or even, yeah, some people genuinely dislike precise/nature/whichever-word sciences, some people are too fearful to be curios or considerate of their own children and long time friends, so address it.

[bi-bats]

1, 10, 19, & 31 for the ask game pls? 💖

TAURIAAAA!!!! HI!!!!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Which of your fics would you keep the basic plot of but rewrite completely?

ooh probably rooftops and bookshops. I really really really dislike the prose in it now that I've found more of a voice and I think the difference between that fic and my more recent stuff is so so blatant, but I do stand firmly by all of the plot points in that fic. That said, I'm not allowed to touch it because if I start I'll never stop, and I'd rather write new stuff than tweak the same old thing forever.

10. Top three favourite fic tropes.

Enemies to lovers, fake dating, amnesia!

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

Bart’s halfway through peeling the first clementine, the sharp citrusy smell permeating the air over the odor of burnt rubber from the trash, when he looks up. His thumb digs in a little too hard, breaking through the rind and into the fruit, a few drops of the juice splattering up his wrist. Kon looks at him from the entryway, almost surprised to see him there.  Bart stares back. He's still angry from yesterday, and he doesn’t feel like pretending he isn’t.  It must be obvious on his face, because Kon's surprised expression melts into more of a resigned irritation, and he strides past Bart, taking the half-peeled clementine out of his hands.  “Why does it smell like that time Tim accidentally put a cutting board in the oven?” Kon asks as he grabs a mug from the cabinet, his voice gruff with sleep. Bart starts peeling a new clementine, and he’s done by the time Kon’s pouring his coffee. He starts another.  “Fucked up my sneakers yesterday. Had to throw ‘em out.”  “I thought you had that friction barrier thing or whatever,” Kon says. The way he phrases it like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about grates at him. Why can’t Kon just admit that he gives a shit? Bart shrugs instead of answering, glaring at the peeled fruit.  He separates out the segments of the ones he peeled, pulling off those stringy white bits as he goes. His leg is tapping so fast against the chair, the noise it makes sounds vaguely like the blades of a helicopter.  Kon sighs and sits down next to him, leaning his head on Bart’s shoulder. He puts the clementine he was holding down on the counter in front of them and Bart picks it up. As he’s about to start peeling it, Kon takes it out of his hands and puts it back where it was. When Bart picks up another one, Kon takes that too, putting it down next to the other one like he wants Bart’s full attention. A tight, annoyed noise works its way out of Bart’s throat, and Kon’s TTK worms around him, feeling like an arm around his shoulder even though both of Kon’s hands are on his mug. “I’m not sorry,” Kon says, his hands tightening around the mug. “Me neither,” Bart answers, still glaring at the fruit.

31. What was the most difficult fic for you to write (but in the end you made it)?

Definitely Rooftops & Bookshops, but only because of the "in the end you made it." Otherwise, I'd say Know Yourself, because I am struggling with that fic SO much right now. I'm struggling with writing in general right now but that fic specifically is giving me a very hard time. I do have faith that I will make it though, especially since it's all plotted out! I just have to. You know. Finish it.

send me an ask!

[echovale052]

All caught up with the Corollary @frenchiefitzhere and lemme just say Eliza was ready to fight Carol the second she messes with the lil baby randi…. (Rant below sorry in advance)

-Eliza is Neighbor

-Beaumont/Beau (for short) is Conservator/Cricket

-when I say Eliza was/is ready to fight Carol I mean me….

-I hate and can’t get enough of Carol she’s the epitome of the magnificent bastard trope and every single episode with her has me on the edge of my seat (she’s so fun to listen to but the sun girl-bosses to close to her sometimes… but she can’t throw the sun against a wall and threaten it)

-Margot you beautiful dumbass STOP (stop with the self sacrifice and stop flirting with Lori she’s gonna smack someone)

-Hays… I’m watching em- (they’re on Aspen’s stupid list, and they’re on mine)

- I’m still highly on the fence about Cricket but that MFer been through some shit…

-*Collective Carol Trauma*

- Eliza has a tendency to give the mom glare when anyone mentions Randi (girlie is so worried… don’t fuck with the mama bear…Carol)

- Neighbor from the beginning has been cool (to top it off they’re an engineer?? As a nerd Im not saying I have a favorite listener but-)

-Aspen and her wife are my favorite people hello?? Margo is like Aspen’s work kid and it’s beautiful :D

-Eliza’s kid is named Laurel. Dina likes to tell her bedtime stories.

-They way Neighbor’s heart broke when they heard about Randi and Cricket… (Frenchie straight up stabbed my heart with a screwdriver)

-Dina!! Baby bean!! She deserves to find zephyn… I will fight someone for her.

[silverasks]

earthspark season 2 episode 2 thoughts spoilers ahead

Nightshade can just turn their head all the way around AND I LOVE IT YES MORE BIRD DETAILS I LOVE BIRDS OF PREY SO MUCH

thrash references a horror movie trope, who let him watch horror movies bc I KNOW it wasn’t Alex or Dot

moe first accused the emberstone of being something out of a horror movie and yet good things happened because of it, maybe now she associates horror movie tropes with good things or the emberstone

this doesn’t feel very connected to season 1, it feels like a separate series using the same characters, idk maybe it’s just the time skip messing me up, wish we could’ve seen more Terran-Malto bonding time in the earlier days

are they going to find the weapon starscream referenced in Last episode, feels a lot early for that

animation feels cheaper, but it has been a hot second sense I’ve watched season 1

no one’s really taking the literal children’s near death experiences very seriously, last season dot was so anxious about it but last episode Robbie got pretty close to falling to his death and she doesn’t bat an eye, makes me wonder how she’ll react to how close moe has come to falling to her death or being impaled multiple times

THAT LOOKS LIKE A QUINTISON! RUN! PLEASE! NONONONONO

THE E G G

ORB

oh who is that, think I saw them in the trailer somewhere

Part of the quintis-Wha now, can’t understand it so matter how many times I replay it

just leaves them there

popsicles In the shape of a boot…. Certainly interesting

ok parents actually care again ig

OH! They followed them home, how……..creepy? Idk

offers food doesn’t take it proceeds to trap them in the barn, you know the place where the Terrans hang out, you don’t think someone who hangs out there all the time might see, like idk NIGHTSHADE

OH MY GODS I CALLED IT ITS A QUINTISON I FUCKING CALLED IT

a QUINTISON EXACUTIONER I-I-I knew it would be bad

also I liked the theory that quintisons would show up in season 2 but now that it’s actually happening I don’t like it very much

oh look it’s your sibling species go make friends

ITS CORN a big lump with knobs it has the juice it has the juice can’t imagine a more beautiful thing

where’s mr fluffy ears? Did shockwave steal em

thought for sure this guy was going to be a manipulative mentor figure but nope there just a serial killer

thrash has heelys, why not

THEY RUN ON ALL FOURS OH MY GODS IM STARTING TO LOVE THEM A LITTLE

oh so when ROBBIE throws his life on the line it’s mostly fine but when moe does it suddenly that requires a lecture ok I see how it is

she just gets YOINKED

where are the outher Terrans only saw twitch for a bit

wsit just remembered there on patrol

gegory, what the f*** are you doing. HOW DID YOU GET UP THERE!

au idea: when moe has her cybersuit on she’s recognized as a quintison youngling and gets adopted by the executioner

meme idea from au: exacutioner, pointing to moe: what is with this sassy lost child

ok but quintis literally did abandon you, would have sent a dream or something if he didn’t

please tell me dude can’t regen like a planarian flatworms

[myreputatioooon]

I can't be bothered to make an actual fic series so take this fake one instead. BTW if you wanna use this yourself, your more than welcome to.

Please just credit me as the one to come with this idea even through you don't have to

=================

[ Fuck You : The Series ]

(§) The Shards have seen many-a-worlds over their quest for eternity, some holding very, very interesting qualities in their species, and if warped they could prove excellent components to creating Data.

OR: I use the Entities being dicks as an excuse to make em shove several fanfic tropes into the WormVerse. Despair ensues.

A/N: Expect each installment to be non-chronological, non-linear, canon-compliant(?), and contradicting snippets told in episodic format since I can't be bothered to wrap my head around just how much any of these additions to the cape scene would in turn change canon.

Fuck You ★ OmegaVerse AU

In one version of the multiverse, keeping a secret identity is pretty easy. Just wear a mask, cover up features unique to you in particular unless your power says fuck you to that and bam! You a whole new person to everybody else!

Here? Pretty much the same if you ignore the secondary sexes. Alpha, Omega, Beta, and the many variants inbetween. And also the ruts and heats. And the pheromones *shivers*

Scion save the medical industry— OH WAIT.

End A/N: Fun fact about my parahuman omegaverse if you haven't noticed yet, consistency is dead!

One omega is a murder machine towards parahumans and normies who aren't pack and the other has a glorified sweat.

As similar as two parahuman's secondary sexes may be, their own personal biology is tailor made to be unique to them alone and often to make them suffer even further (if i care to do that that is, teehee!)

Fuck You ★ Soulmate AU

The Shards of this realm have managed to create an ever bigger mess than those who brought the Omegaverse to humanity.

How? Though soulmates. I'm talking the kinds with timers counting down to the meeting, the ones that share each other's pain, the ones where the first has a tattoo of the second's first words to them who in turn hears any music the first listens too, the three plus soulmates, the platonic, the familial, the enemies, everything you have already and never seen before! Throw it all into a blender! ALL OF IT! WITNESS AS THE CAPE SCENE GETS FUCKED OVER AGAIN AND AGAIN BY THE ENTITIES MATCHMAKING!!!!!!!

Also um uhhh . . . Civilians get caught up in the soulmates bullshit too, but in every pair or more starts with at least one member is a cape lmao. That or a member is 100% without fail going to become a parahumans.

End A/N: yeah soulmates are Legos here. Typically it's two or more bound to one another by one or more means but it can be anything

One parahuman and their biological family tied with fifteen soulbinds each unique to each person. A whole parahuman gang who's marks only come complete after joining as one

Soul enemies who become stronger together and use that strength to do each other in

Biotinker creations with a Lifespan tied to a civilian who in turn cannot be more than 5 feet away from another parahuman tasked with killing the biotinker creations in question

There's so much more ideas I could give but I can't come up with them all right now and maybe I'll come up with some cruel, cruel ideas to use or you will come up with something I'll use

The omegaverse and adjacent stuff will also still be a thing here but not for every parahuman just some of them (unlucky lmao)

Since I'm feeling extra kind, the next chapter will feature Coil & Piggot being in the know about being one another's soulmates ;) Love ya!