#Saving Lives With Gus

[gryficowa]

Boycott!

Now that I have your attention:

So close...

[get-hockeyed-idiot]

F I L I P

[ryeonah]

tag dump

[junemary]

Meng Xi shi, for all she put shen qiao through in TA, is AFRAID in peerless. not ONCE does she put those men put through the real ringer, like yeah this is the whole premise of the novel, that they're literally the best, but there's no real risk! At the end of the day I *know* they're going to be fine with zero consequences. And whatever consequences they do suffer are quickly sped through so you don't really have the time to suffer with them. Give me a devastating emotional loss. It doesn't have to be physical, it doesn't even have to really be a loss but make the price for the win fucking outrageous. Otherwise how can I accept that they're human? If I don't go with them through the best and worst of their journey? I dare you, author, to humanize these gays for me

[5sospenguinqueen]

Please, Please, Please | Max Verstappen x Singer! Reader

Summary:  What do you do when your ex-girlfriend moves on with another guy? Become needy and pathetic. But, when the guy brings you to tears, Max knows it's his time to save you from further heartbreak.

Warnings: barry keogan (i couldn't find any other men with her that worked), swearing, toxic relationships, pathetic max 

Requested: yes by many of you on the previous part 

Faceclaim: Sabrina Carpenter (she was used on the last one and yes, she's used a lot but I stole her song and her job so I'm also stealing her face)

F1 Masterlist

prev. || next.

part 4 will be the last part so it may seem a bit rushed but i didn’t plan anything else. sorry! these just seem to be getting worse as well, so i’m also sorry about that 

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maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by danielricciardo, liamlawson30 and others

maxverstappen1 a good effort from the team to start on the front row tomorrow 💪 let’s keep pushing tomorrow 🇺🇸

6,633 comments 

user1 twitter is claiming that max and kelly broke up

user2 okay but i actually can’t function until i know if max is free from kelly once more

user3 max please tell us if you and kelly have broken up

user4 i need max and kelly to be done forever this time 

user5 is it true that you broke up with kelly?

→ maxverstappen1 yes. now can we focus on the race

→ user6 @/yn_ln this means you can give him another chance 

→ user7 why would she want to after he ran back to kelly

(comments have been limited) 

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yn_ln just posted

liked by mclaren, actorbf and others

yn_ln surprise! if you have any questions, you can refer to my new single please, please, please 💋

13,850 comments 

user8 the two of them are so cute 

jennaortega i’ll give you all the kisses 

→ user9 i wouldn’t. not with all the men she goes through

→ oscarpiastri whoa now, there’s no need for that 

user10 don’t get me wrong. i’m loving all the new music. but my heart can’t handle all the new layers to this drama 

landonorris okay, little miss hollywood. that music video just proved you’d never do well in a film 

→ yn_ln oi, i act better than you do, mr hilton 

→ hilton we’d be happy to have you both

user11 ew, so she went from a hot motorsport driver to a subpar actor?

user12 wait, what? this wasn’t supposed to happen. she’s gone off script. max is single now, they were meant to be getting back together 

→ user13 she’s not his back-up plan. plus she’s way out of his league 

user14 don’t you think you might be putting strain on her new relationship? i doubt her new guy likes to see everyone preferring the old guy 

→ user15 hopefully that means he’ll leave and we can get her and max back

user16 has anyone checked on max?

(comments have been turned off)

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yn_ln just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, verstappencom and others

yn_ln how to lose a cake in 10 minutes 

16,334 comments 

alexandrasaintmleux the most beautiful birthday girl 

→ francisca.cgomes this dress is going to live rent free in my head 

→ yn_ln thank you for letting me show you both twenty different dresses

→ alexandrasaintmleux just wish you were taller so we could steal some of them 

→ yn_ln can’t believe you’d do this to me on the day of my birth 

→ oscarpiastri technically your birthday is tomorrow. this was just your birthday party

→ yn_ln thin fucking ice, piastri

user1 guys guys guys. verstappencom liked this. i repeat verstappencom liked this

→ user2 okay but that’s not max

→ user1 but it’s an advocate for max so 

landonorris dicaprio wouldn’t want you anyway. you’re too short

→ yn_ln i’ll make my boyfriend fight you 

→ landonorris i’m not scared of your polly pocket boyfriend

→ mclaren you can’t say stuff like this publicly, lan

→ user3 i swear none of them actually like her boyfriend 

→ user4 showing their support for max. he’s the only person who matches her beauty 

user5 no but the hand in the dress is somehow cute and hot 

→ user6 not with that guy. it should be max 

redbullracing happy birthday to our favourite popstar

replies

user7 what do you mean she had to pay for her own birthday meal on her birthday because her boyfriend wouldn’t

→ user8 not even wouldn’t but flat out refused 

→ user9 streets are saying it’s because he’s broke. not exactly like he’s raking in the job offers 

user10 so this man is lucky enough to get a chance with THE y/n l/n, then he refuses to pay for her dinner, and then he yells at her?? all on her birthday???

→ user11 he’s punching above his weight and clearly that angers him

→ user12 especially with the way she looked in that yellow sparkly dress today 

user13 someone clearly isn’t very smart. she writes a song for him - the first one she’s written recently that isn’t about max - and he does exactly what the song asks him not to do 

→ user14 how dare he try to embarrass our queen by yelling at her in front of so many people

→ user15 i’m starting to question if our girl does have good judgement. how could two men do this to her? 

→ user16 definitely doesn’t have good taste

user17 the audacity to yell at her in a restaurant of people, and then continue to do so after you were asked to leave because you were yelling at her

user18 and if i said i saw max verstappen pass them in the street, stop and turn, and start defending her, then what?

→ user18 he was literally yelling at this man whilst holding a crying y/n behind him, and rubbing her arm soothingly 

→ user19 we’d say you’re full of shit and have no tangible proof 

→ user20 this could be true because he was hanging out with charles and some of the drivers. and i just know alex sm got on the phone to her boyf and begged him to send the love of y/n’s life to save her

→ user19 pics or it didn’t happen

maxverstappen1 posted a new story yn_ln posted a new story

landonorris replied to maxverstappen1 i recognise the birthday girl's dress

landonorris replied to yn_ln who’s the 3rd person 👀 → wait why wasn’t I invited

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requests open

tag list

@omgsuperstarg @seonghwaexile @evie-119 @alejandrablacklupin @nina-or-anna-or-nora @shelbyteller @raynetargaryan2 @astroniii @raizelchrysanderoctavius @azuramicah @seasonswinter @chaoswithus @casey1-2007 @chemiru @strengthandstay @ivanag1rl@anayaverse @formulaal @ellelabelle @yara011 @callsignwidow @freyathehuntress @floweringlee @isagrace22 @sunny44 @lottalove4evelyn @danielshoe @paucubarsisimp @monacosprince @stereading @hoeforsirius @anilovessadbooks @armystay89 @cassofheartsss

sorry if i missed anyone. it wouldn't let me tag some of y'all

[trophybutchpics]

urgent moving funds needed! disabled interracial trans couple at risk of homelessness!

EDIT: GOAL HAS BEEN MET <3 THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH I LOVE YOU

hii everyone it is me trophybutch (or gus), my gf and i got kicked out of her dads house a year ago after he drained all our savings. since then we have been doing online sw to make ends meet and to be honest it’s been one of the most stressful years of my life. we finally managed to find somewhere to live that won’t eat all of our funds up bc of repairs and stuff but we need help getting the money to do it. the past year has been spent throwing every penny we make back at our house because our landlord has been ignoring our calls and concerns.

we need to make $1350 usd by october 25th if we want to avoid being unhoused (a second time for me, a first for my girl). as an interracial trans couple, we have already been victim to bigotry-fueled harassment such as egging. we couldn’t handle that if we didn’t have a place to live.

i know everyone is also in a tight spot with money especially with the holidays coming up these next few months, but any and all help would be greatly appreciated. thank u so much <3

🔞 content: trophybutch + ivyevescarlet

€4$H4PP: trophybutch

dm for vm or pp

[saint-hymn]

quick aggie doodle — nov 16 pogbur but he stood maybe a little bit too close to a TNT, and there was no c!Phil to save him from the blast. died as he lived: never whole and alone

also because the breaking bad gus fring death scene won't leave my head, like holy shit look that's peak rule of cool (cw gore)

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Valentines Day, Shana! Dealer's choice (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

a continuation of 1

Shawn's dreams of escaping don't last for very long.

Yin - or Karl Rotmensen - lays everything out for him quite clearly. He knows Shawn's father, his mother, his best friend, even his damn kindergarten teacher. If he misbehaves, if he steps out of line, if he even thinks of escaping or gets in the way of his work, then they'll be his next victims. He'll pick them off one by one and Shawn will live with the knowledge that he could have saved them if he only behaved.

They don't hurt him.

Yin looks like he wants to sometimes, but he sets him up with a fake name and a fake everything and enrolls him in a private school on the opposite side of the country. "Education is important," he tells him, then says to Yang, "Pets have to properly taken care of."

"Yes, Daddy," she says obediently, motions smooth as he ties his tie for him.

Before his first day of school, Yin hands him a folder. It contains three pictures.

His father at work. His mother crying in their kitchen. Gus on his way to school.

Shawn doesn't ask how he got these. It doesn't matter.

He goes to school and answers to his kidnapper's name and sees a hundred opportunities to get away, to get back to California, to his family, and he doesn't take any of them.

That night, Yang tucks him in like she does every night. She locks him in his room with a key that she keeps around her neck, but Shawn's not stupid. He knows that it's not to keep him in, but to keep Yin out.

He also knows that if Yin really wanted to get to him, a locked door wouldn't do a damn thing.

"I'll be out late with Daddy," she says, smoothing the covers over his legs and then fiddling nervously with the edge of her dress. She's younger than his mom, early twenties, and she swings wildly between acting too young and then too old for her age. "Be good. You did your homework, didn't you?"

"Yes," he says, then swallows. "What are you doing?"

She stills, her smile forced. "You don't want to talk about that."

"This is wrong," he says. "You know it's wrong."

"I'll protect you," she promises, hand going to her arm with a burn scar that's never going to go away completely. "Daddy won't ever play with you."

There have been times when Yin's temper has turned in his direction and Yang has stepped in every time. It's her fault Shawn's in this mess, her fault that Shawn hasn't seen his family outside of Yin's weekly photographs in years. But it was Yang who wanted to let him go and Yang who keeps him far away from the terrible things they do and Yang who won't let Yin hurt him and Yang who Shawn wishes he could protect in turn.

He knows what she's done. What she's doing.

But it's not like Yin ever gave her a choice.

"You don't have to do this," he says softly.

She looks at him then and her smile softens. "Yes, I do."

Shawn flinches, but she smooths her thumb between her eyebrows. Sometimes they're both kids playing, sometimes she's his big sister, and there are times like these where she reminds him so much of his mother that his eyes burn. They're so far past Stockholm Syndrome.

What his family is to him, he is to her. The real reason that Yin tolerates him, that he doesn't just kill him, is because he guarantees Yang's obedience. As long as Shawn is around to threaten, Yang can be pushed to do more and more things she doesn't want.

"Why me?" he asks, not for the first time.

He means it differently every time, but she always answers the same way. "You were nice to me. I'm sorry."

"Be careful," he says finally, like he always does. It's part concern and part self preservation.

If something happens to Yang, Yin won't have any reason to keep letting him live.

~

Their marriage doesn't survive losing Shawn.

Henry honestly hadn't expected it to.

They never find his body. Maddy still has hope, still says that Shawn could be out there somewhere, but Henry's done this job for a long time to be anything but realist. He knows that Shawn's dead, that at best his little boy's body is rotting in some ditch, that the very best case scenario is that his son got in some sort of accident somewhere they never found him.

He's a realist.

It's probably something much worse than that.

He hopes he didn't suffer. He hopes it was quick. There are no suspects, no leads, just one day he was a father to the most brilliant, infuriating, perfect boy in the whole world -

And then he wasn't.

The nightmares are to be expected. Drinking dulls them. Maddy tries to help, but there are days he can't even look at her.

It's not her fault.

Shawn had gone off riding on his bike so many times before. It was allowed. She went after him when he was late for dinner, she called him when she couldn't find him. She wasn't neglectful of irresponsible or uncaring. There is no way that Shawn's death is her fault.

There are times he can't help but blame her for it.

It's not good. It's not fair. He knows better. She lost her son too.

Then he closes his eyes and sees a new horrible way that his son was hurt behind his eyelids and doesn't care just then about what she lost.

The divorce is a relief for them both.

[poemtoken]

So much of coach’s narrative comes down to agency and his continual loss of it and I find that devastating. His struggle to be autonomous is wrapped up in his rocky relationship to his identity which is why he chose nationals over Paul despite maybe knowing in the back of his mind that making the terrifying decision could change his life for the better, and assuming he is guaranteed return. He values what he perceives to be safety over happiness because it’s all he knows, only to be wrong, and ends up regretting it in retrospect. The crash puts him in a position where despite being able bodied his entire life, he suddenly has to rely on a group of teenagers, his students whom he’s expected to care for himself and feels a responsibility to, are now the ones taking care of him, and overseeing other survival tasks that despite his practical know-how, he finds himself unable to do.

As they spend more time in the wilderness it becomes apparent to him that the team doesn’t really want nor need his help or advice anymore and feeling, too, that he might be useless, he resigns himself to inaction and fails the team he was supposed to protect and support without meaning to because his control over them is fickle and dwindling anyway. He tries to intervene both times but is met with disagreement from the collective as two of his students die preventable deaths because what does he have aside from his words, and would they listen anyway? He falls into despair imagining what his life might have looked life if he had chosen himself, if he had exercised any agency, but hypotheticals are useless. He checks out entirely as Shauna is giving birth in the other room.

He takes his life into his own hands for possibly the first time by deciding to end it and is interrupted. He realizes what witnessing an event like that would do to Misty and chooses his responsibility to her instead.

He finally makes an autonomous choice again in leaving; wanting not to hurt them but to save himself and so he stays far away. He leaves behind the only person he can trust because she has made it clear to him that she isn’t so different from the rest of them, and not for the first time, he is left completely alone. He regains his will to live but not even necessarily because that’s what he wants and more because he’s afraid, and in his head, the alternative is dying and being eaten. He is hyper aware of the way his leg is a disadvantage to him in a survival situation. So he leaves.

He scavenges and starves but makes do on his own. He adapts. He kidnaps Mari and feeds her and fixes her knee because even after the fear that prompts his departure, she’s scared and she’s hurt and she’s his to take care of. He knows that even if it means he pays for it with his life, he has to let her go. He probably figures she will talk, what other choice does she have? Upon being found, he saves Shauna and Van and Akilah, only to be captured. He knows going into the trial that it won’t be fair. He has no other options. He has no agency.

He is sentenced to death for a crime he didn’t commit. He’s placed in an animal pen, his only means of mobility withheld from him. He’s dragged to a tree to be shot by his former team and isn’t even afforded the dignity of a look in the eye as they do it. He can’t do anything about it. An eleventh hour prophetic vision spares his life, but the severing of his Achilles as the newly settled upon punishment violently strips him of what mobility he had left, and he hadn’t been afforded agency since he was off on his own. He’s left immobile and he’s in pain and he isn’t even allowed to die of his own accord despite his begging and pleading. Even if he knows it’s selfish or horrible or irrational to ask Nat to help him do it, he keeps begging because he has nothing left. Not even choice.

To be allowed to die is the one thing he wants and in granting him his final wish, She gives him back his agency. It’s not what she wants for him and she will feel that guilt for the rest of her life. She knows it will get her in trouble with the rest of the group, but it’s what he wants. That means something to her.

[erinwantstowrite]

Please yap more about the Psych AU! I just started watching season 7!! Also, who is your favorite character from Psych?

Hmmm well i don't wanna spoil too much... So i guess i'll yap about some general premise stuff?

I should clarify that LoF peter and Psych peter are pretty different backstory wise. I kept the sameish design because i just like drawing peter, but they have some variations between them. Like: uncle ben died, aunt may didn't. she actually gets transported with peter to this alt universe, so she's very involved in this au. i just haven't drawn her yet.

I also chose harry osborn instead of ned because i didn't want every au to be the same. I would have loved writing ned in this au, but he gets a lot of chance to shine in LoF. harry is in more spider-man iterations as peter's best friend and i feel like he fit that shawn and gus dynamic more with peter. (I see them as platonic in most universes.) ((I also see shawn and gus as platonic). in this au, harry and peter met when they were pretty young, sometime after peter's parents died (which would still be when he was around four years old). Norman is a pretty good dad at this time so he helps peter get into a good school so he and harry can have classes together (and also cause he thinks peter deserves a good school too). But harry and norman, over time, end up with a terrible relationship. Mostly caused by Norman slowly slipping into the Green Goblin role. so, he spends a lot of time with the Parkers. After ben's death, harry vows to take care of peter and may both. he ends up being the reason they accidentally find themselves in an alternate universe, but no one is really mad at him about it because May and Peter hit hard times and were about to lose their house, etc. don't want to tell y'all too much because i wanna save it, but that's our basics with backstory and set up

currently, i'm not sure if i want them to start in metropolis and end up in gotham, or start in gotham and end up in metropolis. I kind of lean towards them living in gotham but having a lot of business in metropolis

And by business, i mean that Peter gets into the photography business. He captures photos of all kinds of heroes and vigilantes, and sells them to newspapers for the highest pay. As Peter becomes more sure of his spider powers, he also becomes spider-man but with way more of a journalist vibe. I want him catching crooks in the act and exposing them with the pictures, becoming a mysterious freelance writer/photographer as well as vigilante. You can imagine how Clark Kent and Lois Lane are going to react lmfao

But then you also have the actual premise of the fic itself: Psych. Peter and Harry are both investigating something when they run into someone (at this point in time, i'm thinking Superboy aka Kon-El), and to get out of saying what the real deal is, he pretends to be psychic. Harry is mortified but he decides to roll with it. So now Peter has to pretend to be psychic, and Harry starts up a whole business about it. That means we're getting both of these businesses at once, which will converge that Bats and the Supers both into the storyline.

Why are they putting all this effort in for money? Well, one reason being duh, they need money in this new world. But mostly because it's gonna help take care of May, and they'll also get to start a new life in this alt universe

Also, my favorite Psych character is Gus. I love him so much, he's so stupid and so smart at the same time. Have you heard about pluto?

[betweenstorms]

Where Ghosts Linger Obsessed!Simon x fem!Reader

In honor of both kinktober and spooktober, I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone to write something darker. Imagining Simon in this twisted scenario wasn’t easy, but I wanted to push the boundaries and see where it would take me. Hope you enjoy this eerie little experiment!

TW: contains themes of obsession, depression, alcoholism, violence, child abuse, self-harm and non-consensual behavior. It includes dark psychological elements and emotional distress. Please read with caution.

London. Fucking London.

A city that thrived on misery and despair, where the air was thick with the stench of piss and where Simon Riley found himself suffocating in his own personal hell. He hated the crowded streets, the gray, lifeless sky, and the dirty rain that seemed to wash away any trace of hope. London was a festering wound, and Simon was stuck in it, rotting from the inside out.

His apartment was a reflection of that rot. A shithole in Southwark that was as neglected as he was. The landlord didn’t give a shit about it, and neither did Simon. Why bother? This place was a bloody tomb, and he was just another fucking corpse waiting to decompose in it. The walls were stained with years of filth and smoke, the paint peeling off like the skin of some dying beast. He lived in dirt, where he belonged, surrounded by the remnants of a life that felt like it belonged to someone else.

The medals on the shelf, once a source of pride, now sat gathering dust, their shine dulled by time and indifference. A painful reminder of who he had been, and who he would never be again. He’d been an elite soldier, a protector, a fucking weapon. But that life was over, dead and buried just like the people he’d failed to protect.

Now, he was nothing but a broken-down wreck, a ghost haunting the ruins of his own past.

How pathetic.

It had been a year since the army had tossed him out on his arse, like a piece of shit they couldn’t be bothered to flush. ‘Early retirement’ was the official story, but Simon knew better. He’d seen their looks, heard their whispers. They thought he was broken, fucked in the head. And they were right. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the undying rage that simmered just below the surface of his inked skin, ready to explode at the slightest provocation—they were all signs that something inside him had snapped. And it had.

The day Johnny died, the last bit of humanity in him had died too.

All that was left was anger, grief, and a deep hatred for the world and himself.

The military forced him out after he nearly killed a rookie during a training exercise. He could still hear the bone breaking, still feel the flesh tearing under his bare hand. It had taken four men to pull Simon off, and even then, he’d been like a rabid dog, snarling and spitting, desperate to finish what he’d started.

After that, there was no saving him. They gave him some bullshit about ‘rest and recovery,’ about how he needed to ‘take time for himself.’ But he knew what they meant. They wanted him gone, out of sight, out of mind. Another broken soldier thrown on the scrap heap, just another casualty of a war that never really ended.

Most days, he was angry. So fucking angry that it felt like he was burning from the inside out, like his veins were full of liquid fire.

He’d go out looking for something, anything to let the rage out before it consumed him. He’d pick fights in pubs, in alleys, in abandoned sites, anywhere he could find some poor bastard who looked at him the wrong way. It didn’t matter if he won or lost either.

On the days when the anger wasn’t there, he felt nothing.

Just a cold, hollow emptiness that left him numb and disconnected from everything. Those were the days when he couldn’t bring himself to leave his soulless flat, when he’d sit in that creaky old armchair and drink himself into oblivion with cheap whiskey.

Those were the days he feared the most too—the days when he didn’t care if he lived or died, when the gun in the drawer seemed like the only way out of the endless nightmare.

Something always stopped him before he could pull the trigger.

Maybe it was cowardice, or maybe it was some small, stubborn part of him that still clung to life, even though he didn’t know why. Whatever it was, it kept him going, kept him trapped in this limbo of existence. He would get up, go through the motions, take his pills, and try to convince himself that tomorrow might be different, even though he knew it wouldn’t be.

Sometimes, he tried to fight it and hold on to some semblance of a life. He’d wake up at dawn, like he used to, force himself to shave, to shower, to eat. He’d try to follow the old routine, the one that had kept him sane during all those years of deployment.

However, it never worked. He’d been a soldier, a man with purpose, but now he was nothing. Just a useless, sick in the head, broken piece of shit, abandoned by the only thing that had ever given his miserable life any meaning.

To ease the pain, he walked during the night and slept through the day. The only time he could find any peace was under the dark sky, the only time the voices in his head quieted down, even if just for a little while. Sometimes he was drunk, stumbling through the dirty streets like a wraith, barely able to keep himself upright. Other times, he was sober, the cold night air cutting through the fog in his mind, sharpening the edges of his thoughts. He wandered the shitty, empty streets of the worst parts of London for hours, sometimes until the sun started to rise, trying to outrun the demons that haunted him.

It was on one of those nights when he saw you for the first time.

It was a cold, damp night in October, the kind that seeped into your bones and made you feel like you would never be warm again. He was sober, or maybe he just felt that way due to the cold, because for once his mind clearer than it had been for a seemingly endless year.

His father’s face flashed before his eyes, twisted and angry, the same expression the bastard always wore when he was about to beat the living shit out of him. Simon could almost feel the blows, the sting of the belt, the sharp pain of a fist connecting with his ribs. He’d learned early on not to cry. Crying only made it worse. So he’d learned to take it like a man, to bury the pain deep down where it couldn’t touch him. But that pain had never really gone away. It had just festered, turned into something dark and ugly that had followed him his whole life.

And then there was the memory that haunted him most of all.

The day he’d come home to find lifeless bodies in his childhood home, his family slaughtered because of him. Because of a bloody mission that had gone sideways, because he hadn’t been fast enough, smart enough, good enough. He’d dug himself out of a grave with a fucking rotting jaw, only to find his brother, his dear mother, his baby nephew—all of them dead, butchered like mere animals because of him. He will never forget the sweet, nose-wrenching stench of corpses and blood that filled the house.

That was the day Simon Riley had died.

The day Ghost had been born.

He was so lost in these thoughts that he almost walked right past you. How could he do that?

Walk past you.

Oh you. You were standing under a rusty streetlamp, the rain forming a mist around you that caught the orange light in a soft, golden halo. For a moment, Simon thought he was seeing things. Maybe he wasn’t as sober as he thought, and the whiskey he’d downed earlier was playing tricks on him. Because you didn’t look real.

You looked like something out of a dream. A hallucination.

You were dressed simply, in clothes that were too thin for the cold weather, but Simon barely noticed. It was your face that held his attention, the way the light played across your skin, making it glow against the backdrop of the city. Your hair was wet, locks sticking to your cheeks and shoulders, but you made no effort to brush them away. They hid your eyes for a moment before you shifted slightly, looking down at your phone and he saw them—eyes that seemed to stare right into his pathetic soul.

For a seemingly endless moment, Simon just stood there, staring at you, feeling like the ground had been pulled out from under him.

You didn’t belong here, in this ugly, rundown part of London, in the middle of a miserable night. And then, out of the blue, a sudden, crazy thought flickered through his broken mind.

Maybe you were waiting for him.

The thought was absurd, ridiculous even, but it latched onto Simon's twisted mind with the tenacity of a pitbull, refusing to let go. Maybe you were there for him, a bloody angel in the midst of this wretched city, just standing there in the piss-poor rain as if you didn't belong to the same shitty world that had turned him into this... thing.

This broken, hollow shell of a man.

He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of desperation that clouded his better judgment, but it didn’t help. The sight of you had triggered something deep inside him, something he hadn’t felt ever. It was like a spark had been ignited in the pitch-black darkness of his mind, a tiny flicker of light that he was terrified would go out if he didn’t hold on to it. Maybe it was the booze still swirling in his body, maybe it was the years of torment and guilt twisting his brain into knots, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t stop himself from believing, if only for a moment, that you were meant for him.

He took a step closer, the soles of his black boots splashing in the cold, dirty puddles on the pavement, but you didn’t seem to notice.

Simon’s pulse quickened, his breath shallow and uneven as he moved closer, his steps soundless despite the wet pavement beneath him. He surveyed the area with practiced eyes. The street was empty, a desolate stretch of asphalt and crumbling brick, lined with decrepit buildings that looked like they hadn’t seen a lick of care in decades. There were no people nearby, no signs of life in the windows above.

Just him and you, alone in this forgotten corner of the city.

You were still oblivious to his presence, lost in whatever was on that bloody phone of yours. He watched you, hazel eyes narrowing as he considered his next move. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. Part of him just wanted to get closer, to see you more clearly. But there was another part of him, a darker part, that wanted more.

Simon moved closer, every step deliberate, controlled.

He felt like a predator stalking his prey, his military training coming back to him in full force. It was second nature to him now, the way his mind cataloged every detail, every possible threat or escape route. He had been trained to hunt, to go for the throat, to eliminate, and those instincts were hardwired into his core, impossible to shake even after all this time. The lines blurred in his mind, his thoughts tangling up in the memories of past missions, of dark nights spent creeping through hostile territory, of the adrenaline that surged through him when he was on the hunt.

For a brief second, Simon could almost hear his old captain’s gruff voice echo in the hollow of his mind—a special forces operator’s worth is tested in blood. The words twisted in his chest, cold as the barrel of his rifle, his breath catching in his throat. A phantom touch grazed his shoulder, and for a heartbeat, he could almost feel Gaz there—tapping lightly to signal the breach. His brother, always at his side. But no, not anymore. He must be a lieutenant now...

Simon blinked hard, forcing the ghosts back into the shadows.

He focused on you instead, the only anchor left in the storm.

Just as he was about to take another careful step, a sharp, sudden sound shattered the stillness of the night. Your phone rang, the shrill tone cutting through the silence like a knife. Simon froze, instinctively ducking behind the wreck of an old, rusted car parked at the edge of the street. Your lovely voice was tinged with frustration as you spoke. It was quiet, almost too quiet, yet it clung to the air with a strange sweetness that made his breath falter.

In that moment, something in him shifted—like a taut wire snapped loose, vibrating through his chest. It was an obsession born not of choice, but of instinct.

“Derek? Where are you?”

Derek.

Simon’s stomach twisted at the sound of the name. He could feel the anger bubbling up inside him, hot and vicious, as he imagined that bastard leaving you out here, alone in the dark, like you were nothing. You were too good for this shithole. And Derek, whoever the fuck he was, had left you, you out of all people, stranded.

Simon’s hands clenched into fists, the leather of his gloves creaking as he fought to keep his temper in check.

“No, I told you I didn’t know this area,” you said, pacing back and forth, the anxiety clear in your every movement. Your tone was sharp, but beneath it, however, Simon could hear the fear creeping in. “No, I’ve been wandering around for an hour! I’m lost, Derek, and this place is creeping me out. I don’t know where I am. Help me, please."

Simon felt a surge of protectiveness, mingled with fury.

Of course you were creeped out. You should be. This was no place for someone like you. You were lucky, though. So damn lucky that Simon had been the one to find you, that it wasn’t some thug or worse, some twisted bastard who’d see you as easy prey. Oh no, you were safe with him, even if you didn’t know it.

Safe from everything except him.

“I don’t care about the discount in the pub, come on,” you huffed, your voice trembling a bit, now tinged with a note of desperation that made Simon’s chest tighten painfully. “The guys will understand, I’m sure. Please, just come and help me.”

Simon could almost hear Derek’s response in his head—a lazy, careless dismissal, maybe a drunken laugh as he waved off your concerns. The thought made Simon’s blood boil.

Derek didn’t deserve you.

Didn’t deserve to be anywhere near you, didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you. You were precious, an angel in a city full of demons, and that bastard was too fucking stupid to appreciate you. If Simon ever got his hands on him, he’d make sure Derek knew exactly what kind of danger he’d put you in. He’d break every bone in his worthless body, make him pay for every second you’d been left out here to fend for yourself.

“I told you I couldn’t come tonight, but you insisted, so I did,” you continued, your voice growing more strained with every word. “I need your help. Please, come and pick me up. I’ve got work in the morning, I don’t feel really good and I really need to get home. What? Yeah, I’m a little bit tipsy, so what? I’m lost. Please.”

Simon’s jaw tightened as he listened to you, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. You were begging now, practically pleading and it made his skin crawl.

You shouldn’t have to beg. Not for something like this.

You deserved better, so much better. You deserve someone who would move heaven and earth to keep you safe, to make sure you were never in a situation like this in the first place. Simon wasn’t good for much anymore, but he knew how to protect. He knew how to take care of those he cared about—he’d spent his whole life doing it, even if it had all gone to shit in the end.

But Derek clearly wasn’t that man.

Simon could hear the frustration in your voice as you asked, “You called a taxi? Really? You couldn’t just come?”

There was a long pause, and he could feel his heart beating faster, his muscles tensing as he waited for your reaction.

When you finally spoke again, your voice was much softer, much resigned. “Okay. Fine. We’ll meet tomorrow, then.”

You ended the call with a deep sigh.

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at the ground, your shoulders slumped in defeat. Simon watched you from his hiding spot, his mind racing. The deadly fury he felt toward the pathetic excuse of a man you were speaking with was almost overwhelming, but underneath it, there was something else—something darker and more insidious. A need to be the one you turned to, the only one you could rely on. He wanted to be the one who took care of you, who made sure you never had to feel this way again.

But he couldn’t just walk up to you, not now. Not yet. You were too vulnerable, too raw, and he didn’t want to scare you off. He had to be careful and had to find the right way to approach you. You needed to see him as a protector, not as a threat. His mind was a mess of emotions, the anger, the need and the sick sense of possessiveness all tangled up together. He couldn’t let that control him. He had to be smart about this, had to play it right.

Simon took a deep breath, forcing himself to think clearly.

He had to be smart about this, had to think like the fucking special forces operator he once was.

The shadows of his old life clung to him, and in the quiet of his mind, he could almost hear Price’s voice barking orders—to scrape up every damn thing he could find. That was his mission now, wasn’t it? To know you. To learn your name, where you lived, where you worked, every inch of your life, mapped out like terrain before a strike. It was the instinct that kicked in, something so ingrained it almost felt like muscle memory.

Johnny would have definitely teased him for his honest mistake—“forgetting the basics, Lt.,”—his voice mocking, lighthearted, but Simon couldn’t let this slip through his fingers. He needed to know everything. You were his target, but not to eliminate.

His heart pounded in his chest as he watched you from his hiding spot. The rain continued to fall, pattering against the metal roofs, but Simon barely registered the cold droplets soaking through his clothes. All his focus was on you, every nerve in his body attuned to your slightest movement. You stood there, alone and vulnerable.

He inched closer, moving with the same precision and silence that had once made him a ghost on the battlefield.

Despite his size—broad shoulders, heavy muscles that made him look more like a walking tank than a man—he moved with an eerie grace, his footsteps soundless on the wet pavement. Decades of military training had taught him how to blend into the shadows, how to become part of the night, after all.

He was close now, too close to risk you noticing him, so he stayed low, hidden behind the wrecked row of cars. He couldn’t see you anymore and that frustrated him to no end. It was like torture, being this close and yet so far, but he knew he had to wait. Patience was something he’d learned the hard way, and now it was paying off.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a taxi pulled up to the curb. Simon’s heart skipped a beat, his pulse quickening as the car’s headlights cut through the darkness. He heard the window of the vehicle roll down, the driver’s voice breaking the tension in the air.

The driver called out, his voice hoarse but polite.

And he said your name.

It hit Simon like a sledgehammer, echoing in his broken mind, searing itself into his memory. He repeated it to himself, over and over, like a mantra. He would never forget it for the rest of his miserable life. He would burn down entire cities to remember it. 

“Yes, that’s me,” you replied, her voice softer now, but Simon caught every word, hanging on to them like they were the most important thing he’d ever heard.

He strained to catch the rest of the conversation, hoping for more clues, more intel. You murmured something about the old market in downtown London to the taxi driver, and Simon’s mind raced, trying to piece together what little he knew. The old market—that could be a clue, a starting point. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

And right now, that something was all he needed.

The door of the taxi shut with a soft thud, and Simon was left alone in the dark, empty street, the rain falling steadily around him, soaking him to the bone. But he didn’t care. All he could think about was the name that now echoed in his mind, the name that had given him a purpose, a reason to keep going.

He had a name. He had a direction.

As the taxi drove away, its taillights disappearing into the night, Simon finally let out the breath he’d been holding.

His muscles ached from the tension, but there was a strange sense of relief that washed over him, a feeling of liberation. He had something to hold on to now, something tangible. He knew your name. He knew your name, and that meant everything.

He stood there, letting the rain wash over him, his mind buzzing with possibilities. He could find you, he could get close to you. He wasn’t the man for you now, but he could become the man you needed. He could become your provider, your guardian, the savior you deserved. He could protect you, keep you safe, take care of you, and in return, you would give him the thing he craved the most.

A reason to live.

You didn’t know it yet, but you were about to become the most important person in Simon Riley’s life. And he wasn’t going to let anything or anyone stand in the way of that. The storm that had raged inside him for so long had quieted, leaving behind a cold and unyielding determination. He had a purpose now, a mission. One he had to see through alone. Price would have approved, Simon was sure of it—Gaz and Soap too. He could almost feel them at his back, their shadows guiding him forward.

This wasn’t for them, though. This was for him.

For the part of him still capable of feeling something other than anger. He would find you again, and when he did, you would never be alone, vulnerable, or scared again.

Because Simon Riley was a man who protected what was his.

And you were his.

➼ Masterlist

[buckdefencesquad]

I can’t stop thinking about Hozier’s song too sweet and Ghoap!!!

Virgin!Soap who had had the opportunity. Many many opportunities but had never taken the plunge. The soft part of him that he kept hidden wanting to wait for the one. Someone he really truly loved. Maybe it was leftover from his religious upbringing but he wanted to save himself.

The other soldiers convince him to drink more than normal one night in the pub, getting him absolutely sloshed. They end up playing never have I ever and this is where charming, confident Soap blushes and stutters and finally admits he’s a virgin. Never even kissed a gu-girl! From that moment on….

The game is on.

A bet is quietly made between the interested soldiers. Who can fuck Soap first. A group chat is made, money is pledged. Soap and Gaz don’t know a thing.

Ghost, who had been interested in fucking Soap before this was even revealed, is filled with a desperate need to win.

Before he’d been indifferent to Soap’s attempts at friendship but now he leans into it all. The whispered comments during briefings, the brief contact when passing each other. Saving him a seat in the mess.

Slowly, slowly, Ghost chips away at the wall Soap has up. They get closer, whisper confessions to each other they’d thought they’d never tell another living soul. Spend sleepless nights escaping nightmares together quietly in the rec room. Ghost had never had to work so hard for a shag before. Luckily the more he gets to know Soap the more he likes him. He’d probably keep Soap as a friend after he’s won. Keep him as a fuck buddy too. It’s not hard getting closer, gaining his trust.

Soap is in love. Ghost is close to winning. It’s just a bet.

It all comes to a head one night after a mission where Ghost nearly dies. Soap is quiet on the way back to base. Doesn’t respond to any of the comments from the others. He’s just staring straight ahead. He even ignores the press of Ghosts thigh against his own. When they finally arrive back he rushes off, leaving the others behind.

Later Ghost is alone in his room when there’s a knock at his door. Soap slips in and locks the door behind him. They stare at each other before Soap surges forward to kiss Ghost over the mask. Desperate, not caring as he kisses the balaclava. Without thinking Ghost rips it off. Takes control of the kiss, shows soap how to flick his tongue, how to tease.

They tumble into bed and clothes are shed, Soap is on his back, naked, staring up at Ghost.

“Why?” Ghost asks. He won’t ask Soap if he’s sure, he’s not losing now. It’s just a bet.

“I- You were nearly dead Ghost. Right in front of me. I thought a part of me was going to die with you. I don’t want to live another day not knowing what it’s like to be yours. I lov-“ and that’s where Ghost kisses him. Hard. Shuts him up. Ignores Soaps tears, tears for him. Ignores the feeling in his own chest. It’s just a bet.

Afterwards they’re lay in bed, Ghost holding Soap as he drifts off to sleep. He tries not to think about how the sex was different to every other time for Ghost. Eventually Soap rolls away from him in his sleep. Lands on his stomach, the sheet pooled around his hips.

The marks from Ghosts mouth are clearly visible. The bite marks along his back, the bruises from his hands on his shoulders.

It’s just a bet.

Ghost grabs his phone.

He snaps a picture.

He sends it to the group chat with a simple “I win”.

He shuts his phone off as soon as it’s delivered, rolling to gather Soap in his arms. He drifts off the easiest he has in a long long time. It’s just a bet.

They wake up to furious pounding on his door. Soap jerks awake, disoriented but Ghost is instantly alert. He pulls on his sweatpants and balaclava and storms to the door, pulling it open to see Gaz.

“Why are-“ is all he gets out before Gaz has punched him straight in the nose. It’s a good hit, instantly gushing blood.

Soap tumbles from the bed, gets his trousers on, shouting at Gaz angrily.

Gaz doesn’t bother to argue, just thrusts his phone. No. Not his phone. Another soldiers phone, at Soap.

“Soap-“ Ghost starts.

“Shut the fuck up.” Gaz snarls.

Soap grabs it and starts to scroll, eyes flickering up to look at Ghost every so often. Why is Ghosts heart pounding so hard? He feels sick.

Soap quickly reaches the end of whatever thread he was reading, staring at the screen for a moment before locking the phone.

The room is silent.

Gaz and Ghost are shocked when Soap breaks, hurling the phone at the wall with all his strength.

He takes a step toward Ghost before stopping himself. Obviously fighting himself hard before he sneers at him and turns to find his shirt.

Ghost can’t speak. Soap can’t know. No one outside of the bet was meant to know. No one.

Soap pulls his shirt on and makes his way to Gaz, shaking. His eyes are red and glassy.

“Johnny” he says softly.

Soap turns to him, his expression blank. “Congratulations on winning the bet Lieutenant Riley. Enjoy your winnings” is all he says before he disappears with Gaz.

Ghost slams his door closed. His heart beating so fast he’s worried he’s having a heart attack.

Soap had never looked at him like that before. So empty.

He sinks onto his bed, shaking. He’s surprised when something wet lands on his hand. Tears? Why the fuck is he crying. It doesn’t matter. It’s just a bet. He doesn’t know why he feels like a part of him has died.

It’s just a bet.

[crowclubkaz]

🌲💫 Gravity Falls characters as books 💫🌲

check out more posts like this on my bookstagram hauntedstacks

🌲 Dipper Pines: - The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan - Dungeons & Dragons Honor Among Thieves: The Road to Neverwinter by Jaleigh Johnson

💫 Mabel Pines: - Into the Land of the Unicorns by Bruce Coville - The Princess Protection Program by Alex London

💰 Stan Pines: - Catch Me If You Can by Frank W. Abagnale - The Girls I've Been by Tess Sharpe

❔ Soos Ramirez: - The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness - Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

🪓 Wendy Corduroy: - Lumberjanes by Shannon Watters, Grace Ellis, Gus Allen, and ND Stevenson - Girls Save the World in This One by Ash Parsons

🔺 Bill Cipher: - The Book of Bill by Alex Hirsch - Ţ̷̞͝h̸̢͠é̷̡ ̷̬̇B̶̘̓́͜ó̸̤ö̵̼̀k̵͕͉̔ ̸͒̽ͅǫ̵͖̌f̵̺̟̓ ̸͖̤͋B̵͕͛i̴̧͆l̸̟̚l̵̺̪̓̎ ̶̱̓̽b̸̢͙́̕y̴͇͛͘ ̶̯͔̉̒Á̷̰͗l̸͕̓̾ë̶̲̘x̶̧̭̄ ̴͍̽H̵͉̤̉͒i̵̩̓̂ṙ̴͔̓s̶̡͛̈́ć̴̖̋h̵͉̋

🧪 Ford Pines: - The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams - This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

🧠 Fiddleford McGucket: - Gearbreakers by Zoe Hana Mikuta - How to Invent Everything by Ryan North

💎 Pacifica Northwest: - The Clique by Lisi Harrison - Pretty Little Liars by Sara Shephard

[lesbianbarbaragordon]

Still thinking about last night

”No, no, but seriously,” you start, adjusting on your seat, “it wasn’t that bad. At least not by the end. I felt like we had-“ a connection, that you managed to see him as he was for at least the brittlest of moments. But the sentence dies at the tip of your tongue. You prefer to keep that to yourself. pairing: tim drake x reader tags: stalking, average tim behavior, college student reader word count: 1.7k part 2 of Unraveling the World read part 1 here

“Do you look up all your girlfriends?”

Tim doesn’t like the insinuation, but he shoulders on because Barbara’s network is far more extensive than his, far more even than the Batcave’s, and this is a favour, after all.

Your face is on full display, a shot from your ID, taking up the main screen on Oracle’s setup. You don’t look very happy.

Your hair is longer than when he met you the other night, and he sees the fading of some sort of dye on the tips of your hair. 20 years old, born and raised in Gotham, there is nothing outstanding about you.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he replies as an afterthought, his eyes on the screens. You enrolled in GU last year, took up journalism as a major. Why would a college student live in a warehouse? 

Because it has to be a warehouse, why else would it have been called like that in the files?

The incident that led him to your apartment is still something that embarrasses him. A mistake on his part, something that shouldn’t have happened.

He keeps going over the details, trying to understand; it was just the criminal of the week, a robbery gone wrong at a jewelry shop, hostages that shouldn’t have been there. He had been sneaky, gotten inside before anyone noticed, and released the hostages in record time (which was good, because when they started shooting, Tim was the only one inside). But one of the rogues got on the defensive when they saw he was one of the bats, had gotten a hit on Tim’s ear, and broken his comms. Then a shot in the darkness and a sharp pain took over his senses.

Which one was the lesser evil, running away to seek shelter while he was still lucid? Or detaining the rogues but risking further injury?

The final matter came down to “what would Bruce do?”

So Tim had pushed through, managed to knock them out, cuffed them somewhere the police would find them, and left before anyone else could see him.

The sky was raging, as expected of Gotham, when he stepped foot on the rooftops outside. His breathing was ragged, the pain was excruciating and he had left the Red Bird at the cave.

It only crashed down on Tim as the thunder and lightning erupted around him, shivering and in pain. Once the adrenaline left, it hit all at once-

He was alone.

It only took a second for the gears to kick in. He couldn’t access the Batcomputer, or call anyone who could help. He could take care of it without them, but where would he go? Leslie’s clinic was on the other side of the city, and after retiring it had fallen under new management, would whoever was i charge still treat vigilantes? There were no warehouses around the area either, not ones he remembered anyway, and the longer he thought, the more he started to fear bleeding out in the streets.

What other things did he have access to offline? His suit had prior saves of data, backup files from years prior. Tim accessed them with shaky hands. 

As he thought, not many places to go to in the area, but there was somewhere marked as a safe place. Somewhere that wasn’t Bruce’s but that was listed as Bat equipped. He headed there with desperation clawing at his throat, pain drilling at the back of his eyelids.

But he didn’t find what he was expecting. Instead, there was you and a mundane house. Somewhere that looked lived in, rather than a closet stuffed with expensive tech and medical equipment.

He realized too late, that the information was outdated, that he was going to die from a mistake.

Except he didn’t. Except you were there.

And he wants to figure it out, what kind of sane person could possibly do what you had done? He wants to figure you out.

“She isn’t shady,” Barbara supplies unhelpfully. She starts looking over your school records, your extracurriculars, you studied at the same school he did, nothing out of the ordinary; A book club, perfectly good grades, no problems with teachers or classmates. There’s an internship registered under your name at one of Gotham’s local newspapers, and there, a few articles on topics like battok trends or the latest celebrity scandal. The few lines he skims read uninspired.

The only thing Tim finds unusual is paperwork from the year before, for a cat you had adopted.

“I didn’t see any pets.” At least not when he was there. His allergies would have started making him sneeze like a madman otherwise. But what could he possibly get from that?

You’re perfectly ordinary, so ordinary Tim can’t possibly figure out why you’d be living full-time in a Batman safehouse.

And it’s driving him crazy.

Barbara hums, saying your name, and then, she says your second surname, your mother’s maiden name, “Thompkins?”

“Thought it was common,” Tim shrugs because he hadn’t taken notice of the detail during his first research. Barbara sends him a pointed look.

“Who was the safehouse registered under?” It’s a simple question, Tim realizes his slip-up on the next beat.

“Is she related to Leslie Thompkins?” 

“Grandniece looks more like,” Barbara supplies, pulling up your mother’s birth certificate. She digs up an old picture, a younger Leslie posing next to a smiling blonde woman, who holding up a med school diploma. Seems like your mother followed in her footsteps.

“The warehouse is registered under her name,” Barbara supplies, pulling up a scan of the apartment’s deed. Leslie Thompkins is clearly written as the owner. It must have been a safehouse for her, and subsequently for Batman, a long time ago. All before you took over. “You satisfied now?”

Tim says nothing at that, gnawing at his lip.

From the screen, your picture stares back.

…

“It was freaking scary.” You complain over your instant noodles. But they’re too hot and they scald, making you hiss. Your friend stares at you from across the table.

”Right.”

None of your high school peers stuck with you after graduation, so your list of friends remains painfully empty. And it would be a name shorter, had Claudia not appeared into your life.

You met during your internship, where she was interning too, at the literature department of the magazine. You’re both close in age and enjoy reading classics, so you spend lunch breaks together and bond over trash-talking your coworkers. She’s one of the few people you talk to in an otherwise silent existence. And she’s quite funny, too.

”It feels like one of those trashy romance novels, right?” She gestures openly, a sandwich in her hand. You’ve been telling her about your encounter with Red Robin for a lack of anything else. It’s the only interesting thing that’s happened to you in a while. “‘The superhero crashed at my place! And oh no, he’s naked!’.”

You snort, slapping her arm, “he was not naked! And it wasn’t romantic at all! I was so scared I’d throw up all over him from the stress!”

She chokes on a piece of ham, then starts to laugh. You start laughing too. 

It’s a relief having Claudia to make it all sound less scary.

Her laughing stops when her phone beeps and she pulls it out. Meanwhile, you choose to entertain yourself with your food.

”Is it that twitter account?” You ask half curiously. She hums in response, not looking up from the screen.

”Seems like bird boy hasn’t been seen in a while,” Claudia scrolls down her feed as she talks, quickly liking posts or replying to comments. She runs a popular fan account in her spare time that revolves around Gotham vigilantes, which is not a niche topic.  Most of the accounts themed around the bats, much like Claudia herself, are not native to Gotham. Rather, they’re from Metropolis or San Francisco, where the public regularly sees Superman or the Titans. Gothamites don’t have that kind of relationship with their heroes. “Red Robin’s been out of the streets since last Friday.”

”I guess that means you’re not lying,” she says teasing, which makes you blow a raspberry, “how did you do it, though? I would have messed up so bad.”

”Eh,” you start halfheartedly, “I took pre-med classes all through high school. I’ve forgotten most of it, though, but what little I knew came in handy,” you shrug, leaning back against your chair, “he had some pretty useful stuff, too. Super fancy equipment. That definitely helped.”

“Anyone else would have tried seeing under his mask, and you’re telling me what stuck out to you was his equipment?” Claudia laughs. “Maybe your next article will be about the bats’ tools. Does Batman carry around bat-bandaids? What about bat-snacks?”

You choke on your food, pushing down a laugh. It would be better than the stuff you’ve been writing about for these past few months, anyway. There are only so many influencers you can interview without going crazy.

”No, no, but seriously,” you start,  adjusting on your seat, “it wasn’t that bad. At least not by the end. I felt like we had-“ a connection, that you managed to see him as he was for at least the brittlest of moments. But the sentence dies at the tip of your tongue. You prefer to keep that to yourself.

“He was your favorite, you said, no?” Claudia catches on and continues, “I’d be just like you if Nightwing crashed into my apartment too.”

You’re about to retaliate, because-

Because what happened was not without meaning. You had realized he was more than an ephemeral figure or a distant idol, something as tangible as you, and that had made you stop fearing, for better or for worse.

But your boss peeks his head around the corner and takes sight of you both. “Your break is over,” he says and stands in the doorway as he watches you tidy up and throw empty containers and coffee cups into the bin.

Just as you’re leaving you catch something by the corner of your eye. On the TV is a fuzzy image of something humanoid, vaguely red and black. 

Wherever you go, the shadow of Red Robin follows.

[mikiemcsmitty]

Omori x Owl House Crossover AU

The Azura AU follows the events of the game Omori but with the characters and backstories of the characters from The Owl House.

(TLDR: Luz is Sunny, Azura is Omori, Hunter is Mari, Vee is Aubrey, Gus is Kel, Willow is Hero, Amity is Basil)

Luz/Azura:

After Hunter's death, the rest of her friends travel to the boiling isles to stop Belos from taking over their home. Luz stays true to her word and never returns to the demon realm out of guilt choosing instead to live out her life in the human realm. After her friends save the boiling isles Luz cuts contact with them and shuts herself off from the world. She stops going to school and spends all day sleeping the grief away until she starts to forget things from her life. She doesn’t even talk to Vee who lives in the same house as her. During the main storyline, it’s been 3 years since Hunter's death and Luz is given 3 days before her mom sells the house and moves her and Vee out of Gravesfield. Luz is approached by Gus on the morning of each day to hang out before she moves away for good.

Azura presents as a child-aged version of Luz but acts as a gatekeeper of her deep guilt and trauma. Azura lives in Headspace a place where Luz can escape in her dreams and live out a perfect world full of magic and play. Unlike Omori, Azura is very talkative and outgoing in headspace choosing to lead her friends in all of their day-to-day adventures. During the main storyline, Azura is faced with a mysterious but oddly familiar cryptid in headspace known as “Stranger” that seems to keep her at arm's length.

Hunter/Something:

In the real world, Hunter died during the events of For The Future. After being possessed by Belos and trying to fight back Hunter jumps into a lake and drowns. An injured Flapjack tries to save him but isn’t successful and the both of them disintegrate into floating light. All of Hunter's friends are grief-stricken after this event but Luz specifically blames herself for her involvement with Belos and the fact that she followed Hunter into the forest that day. 3 years later after Luz has suppressed the memory of these events she still finds herself haunted by the hallucinations of what Hunter looks like after he died. This hallucination is known to her as “something” and can be seen behind her when she looks in the mirror.

In Headspace Hunter acts as a safe place for Azura and her friends to wind down and have a picnic. He never joins their adventures and is instead always found nearby safely in the company of flapjack and a full picnic basket. He also gives Azura tons of brotherly advice as she traverses Headspace with her friends healing with things such as getting over fears and managing tasks. The main task Azura and her friends need help remembering is their quest to find Amity who’s gone missing during the main story.

Amity/Stranger:

On the night of Hunter’s death, Amity is the only one who finds out the truth about Luz’s involvement with Belos. Because of her love for Luz, she doesn’t blame Luz at all. The rest of the group all assumed Hunter drowned himself during his possession but since Amity knows about Luz’s guilt she became dilutional in an attempt to justify Luz’s actions. She claims that Luz is a good witch who wouldn’t do something like help Belos. Her Delusions are that “Something” helped Belos and not Luz. The version of something that haunts Amity in her day-to-day life however is not the same something that haunts Luz. After Luz locks herself away amity never got closure about the status of their relationship so She was never able to truly move on. Despite this, she chose to keep Luz’s secret with all of her willpower.

Amity’s presence in Headspace is different from that of the others. She acts as a holder of memories for Luz; because, of the diary she keeps because of this Azura tries to get rid of Amity in order to protect Luz from grief. During the main storyline, the group visits Amity and reminisces on old memories from her diary. Amity ends up seeing an unsettling entry that she doesn’t remember writing that involves Hunter’s death. This shocks her and begins her transformation into a stranger that no one remembers similar to Basil in Omori.

Since headspace is supposed to be a perfect place for Luz to forget about her problems having Amity around as a memory keeper wasn’t an option so she became a “Stranger” to the group. Stranger hinds not only within headspace but within Blackspace a deeper version of headspace where stranger will run and hide from Azura in an attempt to keep her away. Once Azura catches Stranger only then can Luz finally remember the truth about what happened to Hunter.

Vee:

After Hunter’s death, Vee wasn’t ready to go back to the Boiling Isles with the rest of the group and stayed behind with Luz in the human realm. After Luz shuts her out Vee is left to grieve Hunter in her own way. She looked up to Hunter and although they didn’t know each other for that long she considered Lus a sister and Luz considered Hunter a brother so she also thought of Hunter as an older brother figure. She takes the loss hard and ends up falling out of touch with the rest of the group. She starts hanging out with Marsha at first but after a while, she starts falling into the wrong crowd and taking her anger and grief out of the people around her similar to Aubrey from Omori. She especially gives Amity a hard time because she blames her for not being there for Luz and getting her to open up.

In headspace, Vee is as happy and playful as ever always following Azura around and going on adventures, and being helpful. During the main story, Vee is all for helping Azura find Amity until she starts to forget who Amity is over time the longer they go without finding her.

Willow:

Willow was a wreck after the incident. She had very strong romantic feelings for Hunter so his death left her very hurt especially since she was left to assume he died from suicide and not from the possession. She still cared deeply about every one of her old friends but she distanced herself from them for the sake of her own mental health. Gus was the only one who she still let in and even then Gus wasn’t in the know about just how deep her grief ran. She has mostly stayed in the demon realm since Hunter died in the human realm. She only returns to visit Gus when he wants her to hang out. During the events of the main storyline, she comes back to visit Gus and helps him try to reach out to Luz and reconnect with Vee before they have to move away.

In Headspace Willow acts similar to the others in the group by joyfully going on adventures and practicing magic. Her and Gus are often playfully making fun of each other and interacting with each other. Willow was the last one to fully forget who Amity was while they were still looking for her. In Headspace she often takes on a caring roll for the others in the group similar to Hiro in Omori.

Gus:

In the years after the incident Gus chose to try to find the joy in life and live in a way that he believed would honor Hunter by continuing his studies of wild magic and the human realm. He tried to keep in touch with all of his old friends as best as he could but Willow was the only one he still had regular contact with. In the events of the main story, Gus visits Luz’s house and tries to get her to come out of the house as well as trying to get Vee to forgive Amity and stop picking on her similar to Kel in Omori.

In Headspace Gus acts similar to the others in the group by joyfully going on adventures and practicing magic. He and Willow are often playfully making fun of each other and interacting with each other similar to how Kel and Hiro interact in Omori. Gus was the first to start forgetting who Amity was while they were still looking for her often questioning how exactly he knew Amity and why they were friends.

[luv-unknwn]

Serene

daryl dixon x fem!reader

summary - ♡ you and daryl go on a run and things dont go entirely as planned....but in a good way

SMUT SMUT SMUT

a/n - ♡ ik this isnt that good i haven't slept and its almost 6 am so i aint editing it anywaysss, im watching the show for the first time rn and i just could NOT resist writing smth for daryl so enjoy!! 🤭

(changed the name cause i realized i forgot to change it so it didn't make sense pls)

"no- god damn it girl gon get us killed out here if you keep lookin round so much" daryl grabbed your wrist to pull you along the muddy trail, nearly falling on your ass from his fast pace. "keep up, quit draggin your feet"

"fuck off man its nice to get out of that damn prison sometimes and see the world even if it is filled with walkers and assholes like you" you snort, pushing forward so you're walking ahead of him. "besides, the slower i walk, the more time we spend together, and i know that you love hanging out with me so much, dont you, D?”

going on runs had become a favorite activity of yours, somehow even with daryl being such a grumpy gus, it was serene. walking through completely empty towns; the opposite of the now packed prison you were living in.

“oh come on, don’t pretend you don't love me” you giggle at daryl's annoyed look. you'd grown somewhat of a crush for daryl in the last months, as much as you wish you hadn't, it's been nice having something to focus on rather than the overwhelmingly loud but silent nights in the prison.

it was the simple head nods as you pass each other, and him asking specifically to take you on runs, always staying in front of you when something goes wrong. those were the things that really fueled this crush, which carol had pointed out to you. you'd honestly always thought there was something going on with those two but when she asked you about how close you and daryl had gotten she assured you they were only best friends.

“ain't got time for your wanderin today girl, lets go-” a twig snaps to your left. “get behind me”

the walker stumbles out from the trees grunting, growling, and drooling toward daryl before he shoots an arrow right into his left eye. not so aware of your surroundings a walker comes out of the trees behind you grabbing onto you, you fight against its hold. just as you get a hand free to reach for your knife, daryl shoots the walker and it falls loudly to the ground.

“-shit” you gasp in big breaths of air. you reach for daryl's arm grabbing hold for stability, “thanks, D.”

“‘course, won't let nothin’ bad happen to you” you practically melt at his words and the vulnerable look in his eyes when he says it, like he's telling you an important secret he's never told anyone else.

you're so close you can feel the heat coming off his body as your eyes move from his to his mouth. never wanting something so bad in your entire life.

he's pulling away before you can even think to move toward him.

“best keep goin ‘fore it gets dark” his words are dismissive, completely ignoring the clear sparks flying between the two of you just seconds ago.

“right, you're right” clearing your throat a bit awkwardly, you speed up so you're walking ahead of him, trying to focus as hard as you can just on the task at hand.

the first few houses you search were pretty much empty save for a can of beans. the next one however had an entire cabinet filled with things you could take back to the prison, but not before you and daryl have a few snacks to refuel for the trip back.

“maybe we should stay the night here? we can hit a few houses on the way back in the morning, it's getting late and i dont wanna be walkin’ back in the dark” you suggest to daryl from the living room of the house.

“‘kay, lets find some blankets n stuff we'll camp out in here” daryl's voice is right behind you when he speaks, startling you from looking at broken picture frames of the family who used to be here.

you managed a makeshift bed on the floor with the few blankets and pillows you found in the bedrooms. you and daryl now laying there staring quietly up at the ceiling.

“were-” daryl starts to say something but stops before he can even get the first word out.

“what is it, D?” you whisper, turning your body so you're laying on your side facing him.

“were you gonna kiss me earlier?” daryl's uncharacteristically hesitant voice whispers into the quiet room.

the air in the room is suddenly thicker than before and the closeness of you and daryl seems almost too close.

“was i- was i gonna kiss you? i mean i don't know you were so close and just you know it's not like i meant t-” you're cut off by daryl suddenly pressing his lips against yours gently, staying unmoving for a few seconds until your brain catches up with you enough for you to kiss back.

the kiss deepens when you reach your hands around his neck to pull him impossibly closer to you, his own hands sliding down from your cheeks to your shoulders to your hips.

“daryl i- i need you,” you whisper against his lips when you pull away a bit for air.

he pulls back farther to look into your eyes.

“you sure ‘bout this?” his voice is genuine, even as his hands are already under your shirt going farther up until he reaches your bra, stilling there while he waits for your answer.

“yes, please daryl” you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about this many times. daryle above you while you're begging for him.

the moment the words left your mouth he was sitting you up to pull your shirt over your head, quickly reconnecting your lips with a moan so low it could have been a growl.

daryl pulled away to reach around you and unhook your bra, letting it fall between you.

“fuck,” he sighed, letting his head fall to your shoulder at the sight of how perfectly your boobs fell naturally.

seconds later you were pushing his vest off and pulling his shirt over his head, throwing it across the room and leaning down to kiss over his muscular shoulders. daryl's hands fell to your boobs while you left reddish-purple spots all over his throat and shoulders.

“lemme get these off baby” he was already unbuttoning your jeans when you rose to your knees to help him pull them down off your ass, sitting back on the floor so he could pull them and your shoes completely off. he was feeling up and down your soft legs, the way he was squeezing your thighs making your core tighten around nothing. “so pretty f'me.”

daryl's hands trailed up your legs to the soft cotton of your panties, he groaned when his rough fingertips grazed the wet spot leaking through them.

“lift ya pretty legs honey” he grunts out, when you listen he pulls your panties down your legs. the cool air of the room hitting your wetness makes you whimper quietly. “s'even prettier than i imagined,”

daryl pushes your knees farther apart to get a better look at you before he bring a finger up to graze your wet entrance, sliding it up to press gentle circles against your clit, making you gasp from the stimulation.

“god that feels good, please don't stop” you're whining when he finally pushes two fingers into you, starting a steady pace while keeping his thumb on your clit moving quicker each second. you're an absolute moaning mess below him, your back arching against him.

“y'like that sweetheart? like how m'fingers feel inside you, yea? y’gonna cum f’me baby?” his words are only pushing you closer and closer to the edge, your legs shaking around his hand.

“fuck- shit you're g-” you cut yourself off with a louder moan when he quickens the pace of his fingers, “s’good at this”

“c'mon baby, cum f'me, all over my fingers. thats right, good girl.” his words are what push you over the edge, the filthy words mixed in with his gentle praise has you shaking as you ride the intense waves of your orgasm. “such a good girl f'me”

when your breathing starts to slow back to a normal pace you feel daryl pull his fingers out of you and being them up to his lips, sucking your juices off his own fingers.

“that was- wow” you saw still trying to catch your breath, legs not fully stopped shaking either. before daryl can say anything else you're reaching for his belt to undo it.

“no, s'alright. wanted to make you feel good, go to sleep” he says grabbing your t-shirt and pulling it over your head.

“but-”

“nah if ya really feelin’ up for it, in the mornin’ you can, but we gotta get some sleep tonight” daryl leans over and kisses your forehead and pulls you down to lay on his chest.

and that's exactly how you woke up in the morning, cuddled up on the floor, clothes thrown around the room, hickies everywhere.