#I NEED TO HALLUCINATE HARDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Walking the Road for Her

Wanda Maximoff x Gray Witch!Reader

Word count: 1.2K

Summary: You can't live without Wanda and you've tried everything else so when Agatha comes knocking on your door you accept immediately, but the teen that's with her...he seems so familiar

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 3 OF AGATHA ALL ALONG! Grief/Loss, hallucinations, death/mortality, emotional distress, supernatural elements, implied self-sacrifice, character death, reunion with a deceased loved one

Authors notes: Thank you @scarlethexelove for indulging in my random Wanda thoughts.

When Agatha asked for you to walk the witches road, you didn't hesitate. She was put off by your eagerness, but never told her why you were walking. You kept that part to yourself she didn't seem to mind. Everyone had a reason, and everyone had their secrets, so no one asked, and you weren't about to tell them you wanted, no needed Wanda back.

You would give up anything and everything to have Wanda back. If it meant to team up with Agatha, you would do it.

So you did. You met up with her and put on the cheery smile she hated. You always assumed she hated you for being a younger witch still full of life, but since Wanda died, you felt like you died too. You got along well enough with the others. You knew Jen the best being closer in age, though you didn't care for her products.

The teen seemed eerily familiar, but you can't put your finger on it. Why does he remind you of Wanda of a life you can't seem to remember.

You're overly protective of him. You don't let him have the wine, and when you hallucinate from said wine, you blink, and suddenly, you're looking at Wanda. Back in her early twenties with the eyeliner, ripped stockings, painted nails, and rings on every finger. You cry over it, cupping her face until it turns back to his.

“Are you okay.” He looks at you with concern. You pull away quickly and wipe your eyes.

“S-Sorry.” You quickly run the ingredients back, trying to escape the feelings. You need to stay strong. You need to get Wanda back.

You end up getting through the trail. Not without its costs. Losing Sharon wasn't something you had in mind, but the witches road is treacherous and has no place for mortals. You never should have let Agatha do that, but hindsight and all that. You knew you had to press on and on the road Teen asks,

“Are you sure you're okay? You and Sharon called out for the same person.” You swallow hard.

“Yeah I'm fine. We all had hallucinations about things. I'll be okay.” You tell him and then mumble under your breath, “Not like I don't deal with it every morning...” his head swivels.

“What was that?” He asks.

“Nothing, just mumbling to myself.”

The further you journey, the harder it gets. Sometimes, you want to give up, to give in, and join Wanda another way. But something stops you every time. You almost think you can feel her, feel her all around you. In the trees, the air, the leaves beneath your feet. With a quick turn of your head, you think you so the soft auburn color you miss so much. The road is playing tricks yet keeping you grounded to your goals.

You make it to the end. Finally passed the last trial everyone who had made it. Their prize awaited them. You waited, didn't see her, and then you heard a whisper in Sokovian.

Your name.

You looked around everywhere. “Over here milaya.” You hear her call. You whip around and see her. She doesn't look like the Scarlet Witch anymore. Back before that. Like when you were on the run. You run into her arms without a second thought.

You can't help as you cry. Burying your face in her neck as your body shakes with sobs. Her vanilla scent invades your senses. “Shhhh sweet girl, I've got you.” Wanda holds you close. Your heart feels whole again now that you're back in her arms.

Your sobs turn into sniffles. “I've missed you so much.” You mumble against her. Her nails lightly scratching at your back. Something she's always done to sooth you. Kissing the side of your head and letting her lips linger.

“I know Detka. I'm so sorry. I'm here now. I'll never leave you again.”

You held onto Wanda tight, afraid to let go as if she'd disappear again if you stopped.

Wanda opened her eyes, looking past your shoulder her eyes widened in surprise and then softened as she saw him.

“Bi-Billy?” Wanda's voice shakes slightly. You pull back but not fully letting her go. You follow her gaze that lands on the teen. Your brows furrow before you look back to Wanda.

“Wanda?” You question her.

She lets go of you when Teen responds to the name. He tries to say something, but the sigil protects him. A wave of Wanda's hand changes that. “Billy?” She asks again.

“Yes, that's me.” You're really confused as you see Wanda's red tendrils come out sending red waves through his eyes before disappearing. “M-mom? H-how did you...?”

Billy runs towards Wanda, slamming into her, but she doesn't budge. She holds him tightly in her arms. “What kind of mother would I be if I didn't know my own son?” Wanda whispers. It's just loud enough for you to hear. Confusion morphs into realization as you look on.

The reason he looked so familiar, the reason he reminded you of her. Of course, it was one of the twins. Sure you hadn't been a part of the hex, but you had seen the recordings of it. Last you had seen the twins, they were 10 inside the hex.

Your heartbeat quickens when you remember what you had seen next as the hex fell the you Wanda had created was destroyed along with the twins. She had held you tightly until you were no more.

It's a shock to see him in the flesh. To understand who he really is. He pulls away from Wanda and turns to you. “Mama?” He's cautious having been giving the memory from Wanda and realizing that you had never got to meet him. Do you even know who he is? Will you accept him as your own?

Your breath catches. It's like waves of memories flood through you as if they had always been there. Everything from the hex coming to life as tears fill your vision and spill over. “Oh my sweet little boy...look at you!” Your arms wrap around him tightly. It had been there, blurry when you thought about it. Of this being your son. “Mama is sorry you had to go through all of this.”

“Mama don't apologize. I'm happy to have you back.” He pulls away slightly keeping an arm around you and opening his other for Wanda. She joins into the hug.

“I'm happy to have both of you back.” You can feel the tears pricking your eyes.

You hug them both tightly. This still left you without one son, but you knew you'd find him. If Billy made it out somehow, then Tommy must be out there, too.

Wanda cups both of your cheeks and looks between you. “Moya lyubov i moy syn (my love and my son).” Tears in her eyes she can't believe she is back and that she had both of you. Her heart is almost complete, but there is still a missing piece to the puzzle.

You didn't need her powers to know what she was thinking, “We'll find him, milaya.” She smiles at you, giving a soft peck on your lips.

“We will. Now that I have you two I know we will.”

This was more than you could have asked for at the end of the road.

[thicctails]

Replacement | I Grow Maddened (with grief) AU

Itssss Dipper's turn!!

____________________

The ground smelled like ash.

That was the only thing Dipper could think about as he lay on his stomach, face pressed into the cracked earth, still scorched from where Gideon's robot had slammed into it only a month prior. He wasn't sure how long he'd lain there for, his aching body crumpled on the ruined ground. The sky above was swirling and pulsing like an optical illusion, long gashes of flickering light tearing it open in multiple places.

Bill reigned supreme here, and Dipper was sure that it would only be a matter of time before either his Henchmaniacs or dapper demon himself found him. Logically, he knew that he should push himself up, that he needed to find his way back to the Shack, where it was safe, but...

...what was the point when he would be going back alone?

Mabel had chosen her fantasy over him. She'd replaced him with a "more supportive" version of himself in a heartbeat, uncaring about what had happened to her real brother. She didn't want the "lame" Dipper anymore.

She didn't want him anymore.

His next intake of breath was shaking and wobbly, and when he breathed out again, it manifested as a sound that someone only makes when they're about to start crying.

Sure enough, a ragged sob tore itself from Dipper's chest, and he turned his head to press his bruised, bleeding arm against his eyes. Tears flooded down his scratched cheeks, washing away some of the filth that coated his skin from days of surviving all alone.

And that's what he was now, wasn't it? Alone. Mabel had abandoned him, Wendy had run off with her "friends" the first chance she got, and even Soos, the man who had called them his real family, had left him to play a game of catch with the barebones idea of his father.

Great Uncle Ford was captured, and he didn't know where Grunkle Stan was, or if he was safe, or if he was even still-

Dipper's whole body shuddered as he began to sob harder, the ash-tainted soil coating his tongue and causing him to gag as his gasps stirred it up into the air. He could barely breathe as mucus and dirt pooled in his throat, his empty stomach heaving as he gagged. Bitter stomach acid scorched his already raw throat, and Dipper barely had time to shove himself up off the ground as he vomited, the liquid just barely missing his trembling form.

Spitting out what remained of the vile liquid, Dipper pulled his knees up to his chest and tucked his face into them, pulling his tattered hat down as far as he could. He continued to cry, unable to do anything else.

What could he do?

Where could he go?

He thought that he'd gotten braver this summer, had finally toughened up enough to be able to stand up for himself and fight back, but here he was, wailing and shaking like a leaf, wanting nothing more than to hold his sister's hand, to hear her voice telling him that everything would be okay.

"Dipper?"

Oh great, now he was having auditory hallucinations. Had his time in Mabeland done something to his head? Was this one of Bill's sick jokes?

"Dipper!"

The sound of footsteps rapidly approaching barely registered, but when he finally noticed them, he slowly started to raise his head. He only managed to catch a glimpse of something pink barreling towards him before he was tackled to the ground, arms flying around his neck.

Dipper screamed, kicking out wildly as he tried to shake of whatever it was that had him in its grasp. There was something soft brushing against the underside of his chin, and he could feel warm breath against his neck. He took in another breath, this time to scream for help, when the smell of bubblegum reached his nose. Dipper froze, the familiarity of it paralyzing him.

It couldn't be...

The thing holding him shifted, one arm reaching around to snatch the back of his ripped up vest, tugging him in closer, the other coming to rest on the back of his head. The touch was desperate but kind, and now that his own blood wasn't rushing in his ears, Dipper could hear that his attacker was sobbing, tears dripping onto his collarbone. He looked down, and saw brown hair that perfectly matched the colour of his own.

"Mabel?" he croaked, unable to believe what he was seeing. She... she'd come back for him?

The sobs got louder, and he could feel her nod against his neck. Dipper instinctively wrapped his own arms around her, hugging her back with as much strength as his broken body would allow. He began to shake again, and he gripped Mabel's sweater with all his might, trying to keep himself grounded.

"Mabel my dear, where did you- oh!"

Dipper's head whipped up at the new voice, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. His great uncle stepped out of the scorched woods, sporting a long black cloak overtop of the red turtleneck Dipper was used to seeing him in and with his glasses partially broken, but otherwise looking just fine. The elder man gave Dipper a warm smile and quickly made his way over to the twins, kneeling down next to them and opening up his arms.

Dipper's lip wobbled as he unlatched one of his fists from Mabel's sweater to grab onto Grunkle Ford's jacket, all but collapsing into him as fresh tears spilled down his face.

"H- h- how- I saw you get taken! How did you get away from- from Bill?!" Dipper hiccuped, sniffling as his Grunkle pulled both him and Mabel into a warm, secure hug.

"Umm, Dipper?" Mabel mumbled, still hiding in his neck, "He's, um..."

"What your sister is trying to say, my dear boy," Grunkle Ford said, "is that I'm not your Stanford Pines."

Dipper jerked back, still clinging to his sister. He looked up, and that was when he noticed it; the man before him had blue eyes, not brown, like his Grunkle had. One of them was also a milky white and covered in fresh scars, two jagged wounds that marred his face and stood out against his pale skin.

The small differences on an otherwise perfect copy of his Grunkle sent chills racing up Dipper’s spine, and he tensed up, hackles raising. He leaned back as far as he could, but this… False Ford was still holding him and Mabel, and his twin didn’t seem at all disturbed or surprised at this confession. Actually, now that he was looking for them, he could see differences in Mabel as well. She looked exhausted in a way he had never seen, not even when she’d stay up with Candy and Grenda all night, and her sweater was different to the one he’d seen her in earlier. Her eyes, usually so bright and full of light and optimism, had dulled slightly, holding the distant gaze of someone who’d seen something that would keep them up at night for years to come. 

Dipper recognized it because it was what he saw every time he looked in the mirror.

“Who… who are you?” Dipper asked quietly, not sure how to feel, but disliking the way his gut churned with nervousness.

“We're still your family, Dipper, but me and Mabel have come from other realities. I lost my niece and nephew, but I cannot live without you two, and neither can Stanley, so I decided to come searching for a version of you and your sister who needed a new family too.” The False Ford explained. The man's gaze softened into something sad as he gently brushed some of the dirt off Dipper's cheek with his thumb, “You've been through a lot, haven't you? If you come with us, I promise that I'll always keep you safe. You'll never have to worry about being alone ever again.”

Dipper unconsciously leaned into Ford's hand, starved for comfort and teetering on the edge of sleep. The feeling of being held and having his sister clinging onto him, grounding him, was enough to pull at his already heavy eyelids. What this other version of his Grunkle was offering sounded so nice, and it wasn't as if staying would do him any good.

However, the thought of leaving everything, everyone, behind didn't settle well with him. He wasn't sure what he could do for them, but it seemed so wrong to just abandon them to their fates. What about Grunkle Stan, and his Grunkle Ford? What about Soos, Wendy, and… and Mabel? What would happen to them?

“Please, Dipper,” the small, pleading voice of his sister made him turn his head, and he saw Mabel looking back at him, her eyes wet and shiny with tears, “please come with us. I can't lose you again.” 

Dipper sucked in a shaking breath and, after a moment, nodded. What choice did he have, when this version of his twin was begging him to stay with her? He'd never been able to say no to Mabel.

“Okay.” he whispered, guilt smoldering in the pit of his stomach like the embers of a dying fire, “I'll, I'll come with you. But what about everyone here? Bill has control over the town, and who knows how long we have before he decides to go after the whole world!”

“Oh, don't worry about that.” His new Grunkle said, pushing off the ground and bringing the twins in closer to his chest. Dipper lay his head on the man's jacket, breathing in the familiar scent of pine needles, coffee, and smoke. A six fingered hand began to gently rub his back, soothing his nerves and finally stopping his tears, “Bill won't ever be able to leave Gravity Falls. There's an ancient barrier that will keep him trapped. I'll return here and kill him myself, once you two are settled. For now, there's a handyman, a cashier, and a pig who would like to see you two very much.”

“Whuh ‘bout Grunkle Stan?” Dipper murmured, shifting himself so he was closer to Mabel, who quickly wrapped her arms around him.

“He's… very sick right now. He got injured during a monster attack, and got a nasty illness from it. I need to keep him under isolated quarantine, but I promise that, once he's better, you two will be the first to see him.” Ford promised.

“Okay… love you Grunkle Ford. Love you, Mabel.” the boy whispered, finally giving in to the exhaustion brought on by days of little to no food and even less sleep.

“I love you too, Dipping Sauce.” Mabel giggled softly, the sound coming out strangely from her raw throat. 

Ford hummed in agreement and kissed the top of both of their heads before starting back towards Soos and the open rift. The man had volunteered to stay behind and guard the tear in reality when they saw the state of the world, not wanting to risk any dangerous creatures crossing over into their reality. Just as they reached the treeline, however, there was a loud *POP* from behind them.

Ford turned, and his eyes widened when he saw that the large, pink prison bubble, which had previously floated ominously above them, was now disintegrating into nothing, flaking away like burnt paper. Four figures tumbled out and onto the ground a small ways away from where Dipper had been, each one familiar to both the man and the preteen.

“Is that…” Mabel started, eyes widening when she saw herself sit up and look around, face pinched with distress.

“Mnh, I suppose they finally came to their senses.” Ford grumbled, before looking down at Mabel, who was still staring at her doppelganger, “I think it would be best if we took our leave. I haven't stabilized you yet, so it's in our best interest to avoid confrontation.”

Mabel glanced up at her Grunkle, then back at the other Mabel, who had picked something up off the ground. It was Dipper's hat, and the other Mabel was clearly distressed to see her (their?) brother's most treasured accessory so carelessly discarded on the ground, if the look on her face was anything to go off of.

“Okay, Grunkle Ford.” she replied, snuggling in closer to her twin. 

If that other version of her really loved Dipper, then she wouldn't have found him having a panic attack in the dirt, half starved and looking as though a gentle breeze would knock him over.

It would be alright now, though. Mabel would make sure that Dipper was comfortable and fed when they got home, and then they would both get double Waddles’ cuddles and plenty of Mabel Juice. She would even knit him a new hat if they couldn't find a replacement in the gift shop.

It was all going to be okay.

[katyspersonal]

What does Dark Souls fandom ship.....?

Okay so... me and @val-of-the-north arrived to an unhappy conclusion that Dark Souls trilogy doesn't have 'legit' yuri ships?

Like I know that any yuri ship is valid because in Soulsborne we hardly get any lore so it DOES lay on our imagination, but hear me out; in Bloodborne and Elden Ring fandoms we have many "staple" ships such as Mariadeline, Finlenia, Yurimposter, Nephelika, Rom x Ebrietas, Rom x Yurie, Rennala x Marika (canon too), Henriett x Amelia, those two Nox women that put the first puppet experiment on themselves. Even Eileen x Doll, Ariadella, Maria x Doll, Annalise x Maria or Imposter x Iosefka @ all those Ranni x Melina tier ER ships when you go to the dark side. Even rareships like Maria x (female) Izzy, Maria x Eileen, Rom x (female) Caryll, Gratia x Maria, Kos x Flora or Wet Nurse x Queen Yharnam don't really make you question! And new ships keep popping up!

But with Dark Souls trilogy it's like.. *cicada noises*

It is either a crossover ship with another Soulsborne game (Maria x Friede is THE example), or a very random ship that doesn't have any substance/justification besides literally put two women together and Thats It (either porn addict reasons or spite FOR those porn addict reasons). I am not really sure, either 1) actually Dark Souls trilogy fandom has genuine yuri ships that are neither crossover or random but I am unaware and need to socialise with DS fans more ( @heraldofcrow let me know as the only member of Lore Council who isn't ridiculously asocial),

or 2) Dark Souls simply IS crafted like this with timeline and contexts so that one can't instantly deduce a genuine yuri ship, in WHICH case there is only ONE thing I can do to improve the situation:

[draconicace]

*does many scary but necessary life tasks* when will i be rewarded... when will i get to a save point please there's been so many boss rushes...

[cherrygarden]

,

[teletubbyinlipstick]

Hybrid!Poly TF141 x Reader Rambles

Once again, I'm unsure what to say. I get high, I get horny for these men, and then I hallucinate scenarios with said men. Please enjoy, please feel free to send in anything about these boys! Requests are open! I really like this idea, and I might continue to add on to it. https://www.tumblr.com/teletubbyinlipstick/760241391145238528/more-hybridpoly-tf141-x-reader-pleaaasseeeee?source=share heres the second part!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OwlHybridAU!

Captain Price has big wings. When spread, they're just shy of 26 ft. A beautiful array of ash and brindle the feathers are easily the length of your arm. He keeps them tucked nicely, looking smaller than they are. On the field, if it ever comes down to it and he needs his wings, the look on enemies' faces when they spread is, in Soaps words,"so fuckin hot."

No one disagrees.

Johnny's wings are a bit smaller, around 18ft they're a deep honey brown. In the light, in-between the feathers, an indigo blue shines just slightly. His are more pointy at the end, a ripple effect used for disguising. Simon loves nothing more than to preen him.

Usually it ends with Johnny face down, high whimpers in his throat.

Speaking of Simon, he has the biggest wings in TF141 at 30ft. They're midnight black with streaks of white. When he's moving fast, they look almost like lightning across a black sky. His second layer of feathers is a dark gray. It's hard to notice the difference, but once you do, it's harder not to notice. He's intimidating. He knows.

It's his kink.

Gaz has the prettiest wings, 20ft, and the sweetest cocoa color. He has dirty blonde undertones that fade into pure auburn. His feathers get ruffled a little easily and the boys love teasing him for it.

It's a group effort to preen his wings.

Now theres you, new to the group, younger than them at early-mid twenties. Assigned as a mate for the boys by the government in hopes of reproducing strong genes. You're a sweet little thing, lithe with a pudgy tummy. Your wings are only 15ft. And very fluffy, a gorgeous cream with strawberry blonde highlights. The edges appear light tawny.

You're very beautiful. And the boys fall in love almost immediately upon receiving your file. They nest for you, soft blankets and pillows and sweatshirts placed in the rec room for a cozy habitat. They're keen to meet you, forgoing preening their feathers the night before in hopes of pack bonding tomorrow with you.

So imagine when you end up being the most reclusive, quiet church mouse they've ever met. You speak maybe 3 sentences in total at the meeting. You were quick to bat Johnny's hand away when he reached for your shoulder for a friendly pat. Feathers ruffling just slightly.

They backed off.

Simon stood quiet the whole time, eyes zeroed in on you. Assessing.

They showed you the loft to your room. Simon kept a polite distance, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. Gaz and Johnny were waiting for Price to make the first move and let you know about the nest they had secured for you in the rec area. But when you politely and quickly excused yourself and darted inside, closing the door with the resounding click. They realized you weren't going to the nest. Nor were you going to the rec room in general.

They slept in their shared king bed. The nest left cold and barren. Tears were wiped from Gaz's eyes, sweet cooing coming from the bed as the boys sought solstice for each other.

No one dried your tears, and you stayed curled in the corner of your bed. Scared. Alone. And unsure what the future will bring.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Coveted.

Pairing: Yandere!Geto x Reader (+Yandere!Gojo) [JJK].

Word Count: 1.1k.

TW: Set Two or Three Years Post KFC Break-Up, Intimidation, Prolonged Stalking, Future Dub/Con, Mentions of Non/Con, and Unbalanced Power Dynamics.

[Part Two]

“You’re Satoru’s date, right?”

The voice was masculine, deep and as rough as it could be without crossing the line into gravelly. You stiffened, squaring your shoulders and burrowing your nails into your palm as your eyes darted across the table – where a man with dark hair and an off-putting smile was currently sliding into the unoccupied side of your booth. He reached out, clearly planning to shake your hand, but when you failed to move, he only let out an airy chuckle, propping his chin on his fist as he went on. “I’m a friend of his – Geto Suguru. You can call me Suguru-chan, though. Has he already told you about me?”

He was dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed – his attire limited to a form-fitting black shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants in the same color, his hair pulled into a loose bun. His tone was friendly, light. You returned it with a dead-pan stare, hoping it conveyed the weight of your exhaustion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Is that what he told you to say?” Another laugh, somehow more blood-chilling than the first. Your attention shifted outward, to the late-night diner where Gojo had asked you to meet him. There were only a few other customers, the skeleton of a proper staff, but single other person would’ve been one too many. You didn’t need to make a scene, not again, not after last time. “That sounds like him. He’s always been a stingy bastard.”

With a pressed frown, you pushed yourself to your feet, but Geto’s grin only broadened. He snapped his fingers and as if it’d only been waiting for a queue, a shape manifested at the end of your bench. You couldn’t bring yourself to look directly at it, but you saw enough out of the corner of your eye; a bulbous torso, shrunken arms, too many eyes to resemble any living thing. Instantly, what little courage you still had was replaced with a knot of dread, a bolt of pure anxiety. You half-expected it to lunge, to bite, to attack, but it didn’t move, only standing guard at the foot of your table.

It didn’t move, but it didn’t have to. In a moment, you’d fallen back into your seat and shoved yourself against the wall, fighting not to shake. It was a sight Geto seemed to take a particular joy in, letting his head lull to the side as he watched you curl into yourself. “You can see them. I was starting to think I had the wrong person.” A pause, a glance towards his summoned monster before his narrowed gaze skirted back to you. “Don’t be shy, now. How much did he tell you?”

It took you a moment to find your tongue, another to swallow back the tremor in your voice. "He said he could protect me.” It was harder to admit than you’d expected – not so much that you needed protection, but that there was something you needed protection from. You’d spent so long writing off your monsters as hallucinations that it was still a struggle to act like they were anything more. But, for as unwilling as you were to confront your little monsters, the resounding ache in your right leg where that thing had dug its claws into you was impossible to ignore. “He… he didn’t mention anyone else, but we’ve only spoken once. He was supposed to explain—” You gestured to the monster. “—all of this today.”

A slight hum, a look of genuine surprise. “So, he’s got some self-restraint after all! I thought he would’ve cracked months ago, considering how long he’s been following you around like a lost puppy.” He must’ve seen your expression fall, your posture slacken, because he didn’t wait for a response before going on. “I mean, you must’ve known that, at least. Did you think he’d play knight-in-shining-armor for just anyone?”

“I…” You trailed off quickly, shaking your head. “I don’t care. As long as he can protect me, I don’t care why he’s doing it.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to say. You wouldn’t want to make Satoru feel so replaceable, now, would you?”  

At that, you met his stare. “What do you want?”

His eyes skirted towards the monster, who took an obedient step back. For a second, you considered running, trying to slip away before the man in front of you or your newly-realized stalker could make you regret ever showing up at all, but Geto was quick to cut off your escape route, filling the empty space beside you before you could so much as pick which door you would barrel through on the way out. “Well, now that we’re on the same page,” Unlike his monster, he didn’t give you the option of leaving him in your peripheral; settling close enough for his leg to press into yours. At this proximity, you could pick up the smoke on his breath, the scent of stale gore clinging to him like a second skin. As if he’d just stepped out of a blood bath. “I’d like to make you an alternative offer.”

“You’d protect me?”

“Oh, I’d do more than just that.” His hand fell to your thigh. “I’d have everything you’ve ever been afraid of bowing to you by the end of the night.”

You swallowed dryly. “You didn’t answer my first question. What do you get out of helping me?”

His answer was nonverbal, but clear enough. With that same idle grin, he nodded toward the streaked window, to the building across the street. Your heart fell into your stomach. It was one of those sleazy, by-the-hour hotels – the sign missing more than a few letters and the parking lot as empty as the diner. It was the kind of place that you only went to for one thing, and you had a feeling Geto hadn’t found some miraculous second reason to want to be alone with you in one of those bug-infested rooms.

You weren’t sure why you said it. Maybe to buy yourself time. Maybe because you couldn’t stand the idea of being left in silence as what was left of your rational mind screamed at you to get out of there. “I don’t have any money.”

“It’ll be my treat.”

“What happens I refuse?”

“I kill everyone here,” His nails bit into exposed skin. “And then fuck you on this table while their bodies attract flies.”

You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so tired.

You might’ve done anything, if you could bring yourself to care about anything but keeping those awful creatures at a distance.

Stiffly, with your eyes shut and your teeth grit, you forced yourself to nod. Geto rewarded you with an impossibly wide grin, a breath of a laugh. “Smart little thing.”

This time, he didn’t pretend it was an option; reaching out, taking your trembling hand in his own, and squeezing so softly, you could almost convince yourself he was being gentle.

“It’s only a shame Satoru isn’t here to join us.”

[milkteahood]

together through it all

Simon Riley x fem!reader

Summary: being there for Simon during one of his many night terrors

“No! No! Fuck no! Please… please not her. DON’T TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME”

Sweat broke on Simon’s forehead as he jolted awake, gasping for air. Stumbling, almost as if running from something, he made it to the bathroom where he threw himself over the toilet, puking his guts out. His whole body was breaking in cold sweat, shaking, with a blurry vision.

He didn’t hear you come in and almost attacked you when you placed a hand on him. He stopped midway, eyes bloodshot, his body only shaking harder when he realized it was only you.

“Si? Baby, it’s ok” your soft voice echoed in his mind, hand running up and down his back as he started vomiting again.

It wasn’t the first time this happened. Simon had severe ptsd, and this reaction was nothing new. He tried to warn you, saying you wouldn’t be happy with him. To go find someone that can actually love you normally. But he didn’t get to decide for you. And over time you got better and better at helping him when needed.

“You’re ok Si” you spoke gently, using a towel to wipe the sweat off his face.

He didn’t respond, but when he finally looked up at you, his face was incredibly pale. His lips were losing color too, and his eyes were a little glossy. This panic attack was one of the worst you’d seen him have.

Your hands cupped his face, and without even realizing it, he leaned into your touch, almost to see if you were actually real.

“You’re ok now” you said. Again, he didn’t respond. His breathing was heavy, and he closed his eyes, leaning more into your touch.

You held him for a while, giving him time to relax. His head almost fell onto your chest and strong arms wrapped themselves around you. There was something different about all of it. The way he held you, as if he was almost afraid you would vanish into thin air.

“Do you feel alright enough to walk?” you asked, arms wrapped around his neck, holding his head close to your chest. He only nodded in response.

As you stood up, you gently helped him up too, using your body to support his.

Once you made it to the bedroom, he collapsed on the bed, but still refused to let go of you.

He didn’t speak, his body still slowly shaking as he buried his face deeper into your chest, taking in your scent, trying to convince himself you’re actually real. He’s not hallucinating. You’re indeed there, trying to wrap a blanket around him as he refuses to let you move.

Once the blanket was over both of you, you resumed your gentle touches, fingers running through his hair as his breathing was slowing. Your fingers worked like magic on him. Your patience, something he never saw himself worthy of. All the times he yelled at you during one of his episodes. And even now, he was about to attack you. He didn't understand why someone like you would put up with someone like him. He didn't deserve you, he was sure of that. But he will be damned before he lets anyone take you away from him.

“You’re ok now” you said again, kissing the top of his head “it’s just us here” you continued, nose nuzzling his hair.

He nodded, closing his eyes.

You only closed yours once you heard the soft snoring coming out of your lover’s mouth.

“I love you, Si” you said, earning yourself a little snore in return, which made you chuckle.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

If you want to could you please do a fic with Jason's Girlfriend (rather Arkham Night or when he is still early Red Hood) gets hit with Scarecrow's fear toxin and Jason is trying to help her through it or give her an antidote. But she is terrified of him and think he is attacking or trying to kill her. Maybe it's because while she does love him and he loves her she started working with him because she is helping Batman get Jason to hopefully see his family again and Jason does know so she is scared of his reaction. Sorry if that's confusing or a lot.

Thank you for reading whether you do the request or not

-🍓

Guilty Hearts

Hi 🍓! I know this took a while to get out but I hope you see it. I think we might be psychically linked because this came into my ask box while I was editing my other fear toxin fic. Enjoy! ~1k words

The Arkham Knight is going to destroy whoever caused you to get like this. He stands, ridged and protective, between you and the milita medics who are shifting uneasily behind him. You're curled into the corner of the room, knees to your chest and arms wrapped around yourself. He never breaks his gaze as you rock yourself, silent tears spilling down your cheeks.

Seventy-two minutes. That's how long you've been like this. Trapped in the nightmares of your mind's own creation, hallucinations caused by a dosage of Scarecrow's fear toxin. 

He doesn't know how you got like this, what happened, he didn't bother to ask when he was finally informed. The Arkham Knight just stormed his way to you. 

The medics managed to tell him that you've screamed your voice raw but still fought anyone who got close enough to try and stick you with the antidote. 'That's his partner,' he thinks. Always the fighter.

He scowls behind his helmet when he notices the self-inflicted scratch marks over your arms, a common reaction to the toxin. "Everybody out." He snaps, snatching a needle filled with the antidote from one the medics. They file out quickly, sensing his mood. They should be running. Everyone knows what you are to him. He's made it more than clear and the fact that you're suffering? The fact it took over an hour for him to be told? He'll make sure someone pays for that later.

But that is later, and this is now. You're what's most important. He tugs off his helmet once the last medic leaves the room and takes a step towards you.

You let out a raw, strangled cry with what's left of your voice. He doesn't know what you're seeing, what you think he is, but it makes his heart clench to see you so scared. He knows he can be frightening now, so different from what he used to be. But he'd never hurt you, never, not on purpose. 

The Arkham Knight crouches down to your level, and says your name softly, carefully, trying not to startle you. "I'm here to help, I promise, baby. I need you to trust me. I'm going to make it better." He soothes, creeping closer to you inch by inch. He makes sure to stay low, to make himself look smaller.

It doesn't seem to help, fresh tears fall faster from your eyes and you whimper. He repeats your name over and over, trying to draw you away from whatever fear is tormenting you. "Just hold on a little longer. It's going to be okay. I'm going to make it okay."

He shifts closer to you, reaches out one hand to try and touch you, and you bolt, scrambling to get as far away from him as possible. 

He catches you around the waist, needle clattering to the floor as he wrestles you to the ground. It's harder than it should be, he's trying to be gentle, trying not to harm you, but you're kicking and crying and clawing like you'll die if you don't fight. The Arkham Knight wonders what you see, what twisted image is taking over your mind as you fight him.

You see him. The Arkham Knight– Jason. You know there's something wrong with you, something bad, but between the pounding of your heart and the way the shadows seem to writhe, you can't remember what it is. 

You tried to get away from him– it. He's angry at you, you know he is. You can hear it in the robitical breathing, the way fire dances in place of the glowing whites of his eyes. 

You're scared. You don't know how he knows. You don't know how he found out or what he thinks, but he's going to hurt you. That's what the choir of hissing voices whispers into your ear. 

He knows you've helped Batman– Bruce. You didn't want to betray him. You weren't trying to hinder his revenge plan in any way. Bruce didn't even know it was you who told him. You just– all you did was tell him to have extra fear toxin antidotes ready. You just couldn't stand the thought of someone losing the people they loved, not when you knew exactly how it felt.

The Arkham Knight freezes when you start to beg. He's never heard you so scared, so shaken. You sound like he did. Back in that cell.

You thought a part of him might understand that. Your adrenaline spikes when he reaches for something just out of your field of vision. He's going to hurt you. He's going to make you pay for your disloyalty. You let out a sob and start to beg, broken pleas of his name leave your lips, it's the only sound you can make anymore.

"Please, Jason," You rasp out, "m'sorry. So sorry." He shushes you as you start to paw at his chest plate in a last ditch attempt to get away. Always so strong, you are. 

Jason takes your wrists in one hand and sticks the needle into your skin with the other, releasing the antidote into your bloodstream. 

"There you go, there you go, doll. Good job." He mumbles into your hair, pulling you up so you can settle in his lap, his arms securely around your body. Your breathing is shaky, uneven, and your hands move to curl into the straps of his armor. You're not trying to get away from him anymore, proof the antidote is taking hold. 

He keeps cooing mindless reassurances as you cry quietly into his shoulder, his hand running soothing lines up and down your back. He presses his lips to the top of your head and holds you a little tighter to him.

When you're more yourself, Jason will tell you you have nothing to be sorry for. He knows. Of course, he knows what you told Bruce. He knows everything about you. If spilling a few secrets to his plan eases your guilty conscience and keeps you by his side, so be it.

Scarecrow's just a means to an end anyway. All that matters is that you stay. That you keep following him down his path in hell, and if you turn to look back a few times, well, he'll just hold your hand all the more tighter and keep dragging you along with him.

[ozzgin]

“Do you mean it in the sense that Reader goes through monster boyfriends and is quick to dump them for the next catch”

Yep. Just a vile reader who’s breaking hearts left and right. I think you’ll write it beautifully if you channel your evil side like when you play the sims! ☺️

-👘

Yandere! Monsters x Heartbreaker! Reader

You've always been a free spirit, unable to settle on a single partner. Even after being abruptly transported into a different dimension where you are the only human surrounded by monsters, this habit of yours has persisted. Except monsters, as you will see, are harder to discard than humans. They aren't as willing to accept rejection.

Content: female reader, reader is a player, monster smut

Ah, how troublesome. He won't stop calling. You lazily pick up the phone and look for the options to block the number, clicking your tongue in irritation. You'd specifically told him you're not interested in anything serious. "Who's calling?" The man shuffles under the sheets, still half-asleep. "No one." You respond curtly, glaring at the intruder. "It's morning already, by the way. When are you leaving?"

You slam the door shut before the overnight guest can bring up the classic "Will I see you again", and exhale theatrically in relief. Finally alone again. You look up and shake your fist menacingly, as if whichever entity governing this world is responsible for your bad luck. You've always been utterly indifferent towards committed relationships, and yet most fuck buddies end up head over heels for you, dragging themselves at your feet like pitiful beggars. Pathetic and a pain in the ass to deal with.

Well, someone must be up there, because your situation feels too much like a sassy answer to your complaint. You've just rushed out of your apartment a moment ago and last time you checked, the concierge office wasn't on a rocky hill covered in deep cracks erupting with lava, stretching out into the seemingly unending horizon. Where the hell are you? You turn on your heels, reaching for the door, only to find out - who would've expected? - that it's gone. Great. Your immediate explanation is that the guy you've mistakenly brought home last night must've slipped something in your drinks. All this for a sloppy, clumsy eating out.

The worry of being drugged vanishes quickly once the first creatures of the realm appear. Hard to believe anything on the market could cause such detailed hallucinations that can sniff and touch you: Some alligator-looking minions with eyes popping out of their backs slid out of a nearby crevice to investigate the newcomer. Ironically enough, they seem to be the ones shocked by your appearance. Once they've hesitantly assessed your presence, they scurry aside to discuss their findings. "What could it be?" You hear one mumble, completely baffled. For whatever reason you can understand their language, so you decide to speed up their detective work. "Ever heard of human?" You shout, with a hint of sarcasm in your voice. The beasts gasp in unison. "Nonsense! Straight out of a children's tale!"

Eventually, after a lot of confusion and pointed fingers, you manage to figure out your predicament. You've somehow landed in a world of monsters, where humans are more of a fictional, mythical existence. Thankfully they don't seem to consider your potential as food, though you're not sure if the sudden, massive ambush of creatures is any better. The alligator-like quadrupeds brought you to the nearest settlement and had to form a barrier to stop the curious beasts from almost trampling you in their frenzy to see "the human". You've garnered ridiculous amounts of attention, yet such reaction is to be expected; how often would an earthling wander into their world? It could very well be a lifetime singularity for many.

As the days pass and you become more accustomed to your fate, you begin to feel that familiar calling. It doesn't look like you'll be going home anytime soon and a lady has her needs. Additionally, whatever popularity you had back in the human world is a minuscule fraction of what you're currently experiencing here. In the eyes of the monsters, you're an exotic treat that cannot be refused. It shouldn't be too hard to find yourself a partner, or two. Or three. Who keeps count nowadays?

You remember stumbling upon a postcard print of "The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife" at some museum shop. You immediately picked up the thick cardboard, eyeing the artwork in amusement. A woman enveloped in the limbs of two octopuses and very obviously enjoying herself. Who even came up with the pairing, you wondered at the time. Whatever the artist was thinking, you can certainly see his point now. The first one to receive your indecent proposal was an eldritch creature of sorts, something straight out of Lovecraft's lucid dreams. Dark, long tendrils sprawling out of an amorphous core - which you assume is its head based on the bulging, glistening orbs hungrily staring at you. Your whole body is throbbing under the tight hold of the slippery tentacles, wrapping around you in masterful intricacy. You could see the result featured in a bondage magazine, though you don't...can't ponder much on it given the fact you're, well, stuffed with monstrous appendages. You doubt any genital variation back home could compare. The monster is even polite enough to occasionally wipe away the continuous stream of drool spilling out of your whining mouth. Towards the end you barely have a voice anymore, throat sore from the loud moans and merciless constriction. Your muscles contract all at once, overwhelmed by the sensations. Whatever sensitive areas you might have are presently aching under the needy fondling of the creature.

Mind-blowing. The memory is enough to have you wet and squirming with desire. Even more so when you consider the other varieties of monsters ready to fuck you senseless. Soon enough you're surveying the neighborhood for the ideal suitors and thankfully you don't have to worry about making wrong choices, as there's always a next target. Thus the following weeks fill you with a particular kind of nostalgia (among other things and fluids), reminding you of the bed-hopping in the human realm. From werewolves drowning out your whimpers with their desperate howling, to hooved legs of hybrids violently thrusting into you until you're a dripping mess. "Look at me" is what one of the beasts demanded in a low growl, turning you on with its ragged voice and clawed hand encircling your frail neck. Although you had to ask it where exactly to look, given it was covered entirely in eyes.

You yawn and stare at the ceiling, reminiscing about the depraved fuckfest you're currently recovering from. You might've overdone it with the last one. Alas, you came enough times to make up for it. Just as you turn around to readjust the ice pack, you hear a loud thud coming from the entrance. You (carefully) sit up and rub your eyes, trying to focus on the shadow figure approaching your bed. It's one of the lizard monsters, swiftly slithering across the wall and landing over you with an angered expression. "Where the fuck is that dog?" it inquires with a hiss. "What? Who're you talking about?" you mumble, wildly confused. "The one that dared to touch you."

Oh, not this crap again. You almost roll your eyes. "You never said anything about us being together." Is your annoyed reply. "What? I thought it'd be obvious you belong to me!" You're about to question the strange logic, but your couple's quarrel is interrupted by the sound of shattered glass. The many-eyed monster crawls its way in with fluid, uncanny movements, releasing a deafening screech once it notices the lizard in your bed. "Off! Get off my human now!" is what it finally manages to verbalize in its fury. Okay, it seems to be the common belief. To clear off any shred of doubt remaining, the ceiling gives in and crumbles like putty under the weight of an enormous tentacle. You scream and cover your face from the bits of rubble flying everywhere, but you're quickly sheltered by another thick appendage looping itself around you, against the wrathful protests of the lizard. You did not anticipate the eldritch creature could expand to this gargantuan size.

For the first time since arriving here, you feel homesick. At least back home you could get rid of your annoying admirers with the slide of a button. Is there a larger scale alternative for cosmic blasphemies? You shake your fist (up? down? you can't tell in the darkness of the tentacle shield) towards the entity once more. Damn it, you've learned your lesson. Several steps must’ve been skipped before reaching a pack of angry, possessive monsters fighting over your ownership.

[astrangerthatlovesyou]

“It’s okay to not be okay”

Unless it impacts your work performance…

Or your grades

Or how you act

Or if it causes you to say no

Or if you’re harder to be around

Or if you need time alone

Or if you talk about it

Or show symptoms

“It’s okay to not be okay”

Unless you have trauma

Unless you have one of those “scary” mental illnesses

Unless it inconveniences me

Unless you’re undiagnosed

Unless you cry or scream or make a scene

Unless you don’t keep that shit to yourself

Unless you make me uncomfortable

Unless I can’t infantilize or fetishize you

Unless you have hallucinations

Unless you have psychosis

Unless you get angry

Unless I think you’re cringe

Unless you can’t preform hygiene tasks

Unless you’re disabled, or trans, or gay, or not white, or fat, or AFAB, or intersex, or a man… so I guess anyone

“It’s okay to not be okay”

As long as nobody ever finds out.

Our society has a severe issue with performative activism, and mental health is a huge example of this. Every time someone considers reaching out, they run through this list mentally. This is why true activists and resources need to be loudly supportive of all the things on this list. Take the subtext out of your support.

[alisblackgf]

okok hear me out.... yk the scene in s1 where the old guy (mr han i think) hugs hyun su and hyun su basically kills him with his monster wing thing what if reader took mr hans place and hyun su killed reader, but then reader comes back as a neohuman and they reunite in s2 (i hope this made sense pls im bad at explaining)

someone cooked here. LMAO anon you're a genius

rememberance

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: cha hyun-su x gn!reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: hurt/comfort(?)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you died by his hands, and he never forgave himself for it. that was until he saw you standing alive and well in front of him.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i didn't know if i wanted to make it an established relationship or not, so that's up to you! also when i finished this i thought it was way longer than it actually was. hopefully you still enjoy it!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of death, blood, basically anything you'd see in sweet home

"it's not your fault."

your voice echoed in his mind continuously. part of him wishes he could forget, the other part of him wishes it'd stay forever.

he remembered the way your arms wrapped around him, even when your skin was pierced by his wing.

"it's not your fault," you whispered, your grasp slightly loosening due to your injuries. you could feel yourself slipping away.

you used your final breaths to reassure him, relief taking over your features when his wing turned back into his arm, and the pure blackness of his eyes returned to the eyes you'd stare into with adoration.

once he fully processed the situation, he held you tightly and cried into you. you held him back for as long as you could, and once he felt your arms let him go, he cried harder.

he remembered how your lifeless body felt. the weight of you was still there, but everything else that made you you was gone.

it had been a year since it happened. he thought it'd get better with time, but it hadn't. he catches himself thinking about you more often than he should, but he can't—he won't—let himself forget you.

he didn't think that his determination to keep your memory alive would lead to hallucinations of you. was he hallucinating?

eun-yu stood next to him, and upon seeing you, she ran up to you and hugged you. you hugged her back and gave her a soft smile. she pulled away, and your gaze landed on him.

he definitely wasn't hallucinating.

he looked different than when you last saw him. his hair grew out a bit more, and you observed his shirt.

it looked cut up, and you could only assume it was from his wing. the same one that "killed" you. you winced at the memory, convinced you could almost feel the tears in your skin again.

you had changed, too, though. your hair was different, more suitable to the outbreak of monsters, and your choice of clothing was, too. it's not something he expected you to wear, but it looked good on you.

he walked towards you and you stood before him, unmoving, just as shocked as he was.

"hyun-su?" you reached out to touch his face, and once he felt your touch, he gave a shaky sigh and tears began to fall.

you wiped his tears and gently shushed him, pulling him into an embrace. he buried his face into your neck, mumbling apologies.

"i'm sorry," he cried into you, just like he did when your pierced skin leaked blood onto him.

"i know. it wasn't your fault." you held him tight, expressing that your grasp wouldn't falter this time, and you let him stay in your arms as long as he needed to, because this time, you weren't going anywhere.

[sp0o0kylights]

Steves always felt stuck. 

Slightly out of place, like a character that was supposed to be killed off, but was kept alive instead. 

Adrift with no friends and a family thats absent, Steve wastes most his life working a retro video store in a dying mall. 

Nothing feels real. Has felt real, ever since a party he threw in high school got wildly out of hand. 

Until some guy named Eddie shows up.

Eddie, who slaps down a copy of some former major TV show everyone used to binge.

Eddie, with his wild hair and wilder eyes and an outfit that looks like he himself came out of the stupid 80s show.

Eddie, who worms his way into Steves heart, the only bright spark of his day, and who no one else seems to be able to see.

It's easy to ignore at first. Easy for Steve to dismiss the weird looks and quiet questions--especially when Eddie flirts like he does. 

Kisses up Steves neck in the work closet, whispering assurances that they can be quick. 

Its a little harder when his concussions are brought up. His brain damage diagnosis thrown at him.

That it's his fault that girl drowned. It's his fault he sacrificed her to save himself, even if the lack of oxygen is the entire reason he's different now…

Steve is certain Eddies not a hallucination, or some kind of--imaginary friend.

So sure hes furious with it when confronted--until that night. 

When Eddie sits Steve down and informs him no one else can see him because he is from the stupid tv show.

And so is Steve.

In fact it's not a tv show, its reality and Steve is caught in Vecna's evil mindtrap--except his very real brain damage caused things to go a little differently.

Steves trapped apparently, and El has sent Eddie to go get him--and Steve wants so badly to believe it.

That he's not this lonely. 

That this--dull, friendless, family-less life he's barely living, is the fake one. 

Except….

“So how do I wake up then?”

“That's the hard part, Stevie.” Eddie tells him, thumb running soothing little circles on overheated skin. El thinks you need to drown--just like Barb did.” 

[slickfordain]

POOKS I HAVE AN IDEA

Ahem...yandere aiden, logan, tyler n ash or whoever u want w WEAK READER N YK THEY R PRETTY OVERPROTECTIVD OF HER WHY? bc she is fragile af-- always manage to get herself injured in the most dunb ways possible n how tf is she gonna manage to survive in this realm? She needs them ‼️‼️

𝕭𝖗𝖚𝖙𝖆𝖑 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 // School Bus Graveyard

TW: Yandere themed, NO NSFW, gore/injuries mentioned, fragile!female!reader who is paranoid and anxious, AU explanation-wise writing? It’s kind of short but it’s like an explanation what my SBG x reader AU is;;u ;

You don’t know how you even ended up here in this situation…. Restless sleep, insomnia, hallucinations,— Ah… Who am I kidding? You knew exactly what was happening and it all started way back when you were ordered to tutor around the new students. Being the one who wasn’t new, it was hard to keep a conversation with them because….. One would keep her distance away, one would be thrilled to nag the girl who distanced away, the twins didn’t give a damn, and… Ben and Logan were probably the only ones who ever offered to listen to you.

However despite those hours you eventually got to bond with them, all because of… Well…. You tripping down the stairs all of the sudden until Ashlyn caught you. And that’s where the spark happened… That’s what clicked in Ashlyn’s mind to suddenly want to protect you, with you in her arms looking hopeless and defenseless. The group claimed you as their pink princess but, you didn’t thought much of it….

And why they even bother to call you that, you still felt loved at least by your friends.

But… Every time you walk home after hanging out with them, especially on that trip, your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The thought of that hideous creature behind Ashlyn…. You haven’t left your house since then, and gave excuses to your teacher even for him to understand.

You’ve never felt anything weird like this before… The ones you are looking to avoid were mostly creepy men, or just in general a group of people who you think could possibly bully you, or take advantage.

So why? Why did you suddenly have to endure horror?

❝[NAME]!!!❞

You’ve impaled yourself on accident by trying to get away from a monster, you’ve tripped and fallen into a dark void where you died by the fall, you even somehow died by trying to save Tyler, but you ended up dying anyways! It was getting so… So much harder…

You’ve gotten injured. Over, and over, and over again. It’s pissing Ashlyn, Aiden, Tyler— everyone off. It was as if they saw life flash before their eyes…. And while you’re alive in the real world, with no scratches or injuries, they couldn’t afford to lose you again. To make you hopeless, to make you unable to walk.

It was another dream, another dream where suddenly you’re locked in the bird cage Aiden had somehow decided to buy… You stared confused, yearning for an explanation…. But the boys and girls wouldn’t give you any.

❝Guys..? Please… I thought we were a team..❞

❝Princess… We are! We swear…! Please don’t take it badly! We’re doing this for your own good…❞

You couldn’t really argue with them. You’re just tired and you have been unable to get proper sleep… You suppose it’s okay but… It wasn’t getting better as you thought it would. Despite dreams having you only locked up every now and then, in the morning in reality- you are FOLLOWED constantly by either the twins, Ashlyn, Aiden, or Ben… Logan? Probably cameras in your house (not your bedroom or bathroom) to ensure you made it home safely.

It’s getting out of hand. It’s going bizarre, but are you doing something about it? NO! Their parents scares you! You don’t want to break your friendship either… You knew how easily broken they’d be… And… You don’t want to handle or deal with Aiden’s family, nor do you wanna karate with Ashlyn’s mother. You can’t even fight!

So the only thing you could do was just… Accept it as it is. And let it be… Although you probably aren’t aware that the parents adores you, finding you so sweet and matchable for their little children. You don’t pay attention to that, all you could focus on were your eyebags and your injured body…. There wasn’t anything, reality-wise, but God it stung that you could barely make it through school. Even though I kind of said you give excuses…. You still had to do exams for at least collage….

Don’t take them wrong, they’d love for you to stay safe and to not join the horror attraction… But also, after the reveal when the parents could also see the demonic creatures, it instantly clicks that you weren’t safe. Nor were your parents. (Don’t give a damn about your parents, they don’t like them)

They need you. They constantly need you. They can’t have you out of your cage, but they can’t have you out of the dreams as well…. Which considers leading it to having you as some sort of a motivation. They need you to support them for everything they do.

So when the parents are going into that situation, it’s best to believe they NEED you with them so nobody in reality can kidnap you while they’re asleep…. Fighting off monsters, you know?

And the shady guys? Do not worry a single thing about them at all.

I mean, what more could you possibly do than to be stuck in your own bedroom or classroom? You’re going nowhere near the stores or arcade. Not after that Logan incident, that is….

[copperbadge]

I’ve messed around with AI a little, because I like to understand a thing when I’m formulating opinions on it and I’ve found the best way to do that is to climb into the thing and start pushing buttons. I’ve been unimpressed with ChatGPT; its fiction chops are oddly saccharine, and of course you can’t trust the nonfiction it spits out because everything it says needs to be fact checked. It claims it can’t “lie”, only misinterpret data from the sets it was trained on; devs call the misinterpreted data “hallucination”.

Part of what I was testing was whether it could competently do my job, so that if my boss starts asking about it, I can give him a decent report. I asked it for biographies of a few wealthy people I’ve researched in the past, and it spat out some respectably generic information that was mostly correct. However, most of the people I research now are not like “so rich I’m famous for it” levels of wealthy, and harder generally for me to find information on, as I assumed it would be for ChatGPT. 

So I thought I’d see what it could do with someone more middle class, and asked it for a biography of Sam Starbuck. 

What it returned was like what you would get if you told me “Write a flattering biography of yourself and don’t worry that I’ll be fact-checking anything you say.” It was mostly true, but it hyped up my achievements as an author in ways that I would consider not entirely honest, and said I was also a professional editor and that I had led prestigious writing workshops in the past. That’s plain untrue, but I can see where it would be making that assumption, because my author bio sounds like a lot of other, more famous peoples’ author bios, and I would guess it just pulled in some of their verbiage for color. 

But the wildest part of the bio was that it named three of the novels I’ve written. Or rather, it named two novels I’ve written and one novel that I definitely have not. It said I was the author of a novel called “Like Clockwork”. Just in case I had written a fanfic titled “Like Clockwork” and forgotten about it, I checked AO3 and also asked ChatGPT for a plot summary of Sam Starbuck’s “Like Clockwork”. And sure enough it hallucinated a multi-paragraph summary of an entire novel I’ve never written, on AO3 or anywhere else. (It was not a good summary. Very Generic YA SF Thriller.) 

ChatGPT is very good at one thing: apologizing. When I pressed it about where it found the data it couldn’t say, when I asked why it had made up the plot summary it couldn’t tell me, when I asked if it could show me source links or data it drew on to create “Like Clockwork” it of course would not. But it always said it was sorry...

Anyway, my best theory from googling is that every year there are roughly nine million news stories about how Starbucks Coffee’s holiday cups are back “like clockwork”. 

I suppose I should be glad the novel’s title isn’t Unicorn Frappucino.

[bimbo-baggins17]

Just A Fantasy?: Sam Monroe

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

CW: 18+ MDNI!!, porn with no plot, smut, masturbation, use of pet names, oral (m receiving), slight dacryphilia, degradation, throat fucking <3<3<3

A/N: For the lovely anon who said I should write more Sam Monroe smut…hope you enjoy <3 //not proofread\\

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

Sam’s eyes are screwed shut, his plump bottom lip pulled between his teeth, the labret piercing clicking against them as he fists his dick with feverish desperation. It gets more difficult for him to contain the whimpers and groans threatening to spill out, causing him to bite down harder on his lip.

“Fuck..fuck..c’mon please..please..” He whimpers pleadingly to the mental image of you, his best friend, that he’s conjured up. The porn pulled up in his browser isn’t spurring him on like it usually does.

“Sam? Sam!”

“Yeah baby…y-yeah..just like that..” He grunts, tugging his cock faster, chasing his climax. He’s right there..right there..

“Oh my god! Sam!”

His eyes shoot open in surprise as you walk through his bedroom door, but it’s that extra little jolt he seemingly needed, hot cum spurting out with a loud groan. It dribbles all down his hand, some of it getting on his shirt since his trajectory changed with the surprise. Apparently the calls of his name weren’t just all a fantasy.

Sam’s face instantly goes beet red with embarrassment as he sees you standing there staring at him wide eyed. It’s silent. Minus the over acting moans still coming from his laptop speakers. Quickly he pauses it and slams it shut before reaching for a tissue to clean himself off and tuck himself away. “Sorry,” He mumbles, “you weren’t supposed to see that.” He’d rather you scold him than stay silent. He risks taking a peek at you. Your expression is unreadable to him.

A few more moments of silence pass before he can’t take it. “Say something at least. Please.”

“What were you thinking about?” You ask.

His eyes snap up to your’s immediately. Thats definitely nowhere close to what he expected to hear from you. He had numerous ideas and that didn’t even come close. He knows he’s taking a risk if he answers honestly but you just walked in on him humping his hand like a bitch in heat so all shame is out the window for now. And the fact you haven’t left running for the hills is a good sign.

“You.” His voice nearly cracks with the admission.

The grin that makes its way onto your lips is enough to make his dick twitch again.

“Really?” You ask softly, stepping closer towards him.

He swallows thickly, his eyes trailing over you for a moment before landing back on your face. He nods his head. “Really.”

He has to be hallucinating or maybe he passed out from embarrassment and this is all just a dream because he watches you close the distance between you both and drop to your knees in front of him.

“You could have just asked for my help..” You murmur, eyes admiring the outline in his pants. You look back up to his, “Think you can cum one more time?”

His heart nearly stops. Did he hear you correctly? He doesn’t trust his voice right now so he just nods, his breaths coming out shaky. “Mhm..”

There’s that grin again. He feels like he could explode just watching you pull his dick back out of his pants. He watches how you gaze at it like you’re in awe or something. He whimpers pathetically, wanting to feel your touch finally, now that you’re so close. He strokes your jaw with his thumb gently, “Please baby,” He croaks out, not able to wait any longer now that what he’s wanted for so long is being dangled in front of him.

He watches as you spit into your dominate hand before you delicately wrap it around his thick shaft. His eyelids flutter at the feel. Your pumps start slow and almost torturous drawing it out while pulling more mewls from him. When your hand starts to move faster, his head falls back to rest on his desk chair earning a satisfied groan.

Sam jolts when he feels you run your tongue along the underside of his length over the prominent vein, all the way to the tip, swirling the muscle around it. “Fuck baby,” He breathes sharply through his teeth.

You smile up at him, your tongue still teasing his cock. The sight of you on your knees in front of him is something he’s dreamed about countless times. He makes sure to burn the image into his memory just in case he never gets this again.

He lets out a choked moan as you wrap your lips around his tip, teasing the slit. “..need more..please..” He begs.

You oblige and start to slowly envelope him into your warm mouth. He lets his head rest against the back of the chair once again, letting out a hiss of air.

The pleasure is ripped away just as quickly as he got it though. He shoots forward frustrated, whining. “You’re such a fucking tease.” He growls out.

Before you have time to react he threads his ringed fingers through your hair and forces your mouth down around him, bucking his hips forward at the same time to make you gag around him. “..fuck..” He grunts, your nose is buried in his pubic hair.

His large hands keep your head in place as he continues to snap his hips up into your mouth, bullying your throat. Your drool dribbles out and down his shaft catching in the curly hair at the base. The sound of you gagging on his cock only encourages him further, along with the tears he can see catching in your eyelashes.

“Shouldn’t be such a tease baby,” He grunts, his hips not stopping their assault, “..fuck..I know you can take it though..”

Your hands find their way to his thighs, bracing yourself, nails digging into the flesh. The tears slip down your cheeks, ruining your makeup.

“‘M right there…’nd you’re gonna take it all..” His movements grow sloppier as he reaches climax. “Fuck baby,” He moans right before pulling your head down so his cock is buried in the back of throat, draining his cum right down it. The way it flexes as you gag milks every last drop from him.

“Shit..” he breathes out, pulling you off his overly sensitive length, whimpering. He admires the mess he made of your makeup while caressing your face sweetly with a shaky hand, a stark contrast to his actions seconds ago.

“Was that okay?” You ask, looking almost angelic to him even with the clear evidence of what you just did on your face.

He can’t help but chuckle at your question and he nods his head. “You really have to ask that?” He holds up one of his hands, showing how it’s trembling.

You beam proudly up at him. Sam strokes your bottom lip affectionately with his thumb before leaning forward and capturing them in a kiss, tasting himself on you. It’s safe to say you two are no longer just friends.

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

Liked this? Check out my other work here