#and now it’s gone and I want to explode

[waterloverextreme]

I called these "taken by a Strange Mood"; Like in the videogame Dwarf Fortress. Sometimes you either find yourself doing or making something with extreme compulsion. Or fist-fighting the trees because it won't give you fur.

Normally I stay away from people cause I know I will try to pick fights with them.... So I go to the Kitchen; which I needed to ban myself from!!

Things I have done during a Strange Mood [Kitchen Edition]

Decided to make my sister a Hot Chocolate. Forgot what a hot chocolate was. Poured a mug up to the brim with hot water. Stared at it. Took the container of hot chocolate mix and DUMPED IT onto the mug. Was confused why it was all over the counter.

Stared at the metal coil stovetop as it was bright red after cooking. A few seconds later it was no longer burning red as I turned the stovetop off. Thought, "It's still hot, but HOW hot is it?". Proceeded to touch the heating element. Went "hmmm it's hot enough for me to be in a lot of pain", like a dumbass. As I've never touched a hot stove before what the frick was I trying to compare it to???

Made the most digusting meal of soggy wet white bread, and visibly moldy cream cheese. Because, "someone needs to eat this before we need to throw it out".

Stared at the ceiling until it looked like flesh moving

Took 12 cups and filled them with water. Placed them around my bedroom (different floor of the house) to feel what it was like to be Jack and Jill fetching water if they didn't fall down.

Wanted to re-experience being 5 and rolling down the stairs without getting a single bruise... I am too tall now and it was awkward and painful.

Spent hours imagining gravity shifted and I got stuck on the ceiling of the kitchen. Which still gets my heart pumping just thinking about it. Harrowing! DO NOT ATTEMPT

Laid down on the floor because that would hopefully stop myself from going outside. Got distracted by trying to retrieve the dusty cat toy under the fridge. The cats watched me.

Tell myself over and over to not put utensils in the microwave. Just cause I forgot a spoon in there once and didn't explode doesn't mean anything!

Spin. Like a lot. Especially right under the ceiling light which if I did the tiniest hop would impail my head.

These aren't the most interesting as I said. I have banned myself from the Kitchen. I only allow myself premade snacks like crackers or canned fruit. As like- I get real dangerous and dumb.

If I feel a strange mood coming whilst with people? My main way to deflect it is to unironically challenge people to "1v1 me on club penguin". That doesn't exist anymore so most people take it as a joke. Usually it defuses into me coming up with more wild and improbable dueling oppurtunities. At least until I can think of an excuse to seperate myself or direct the energy elsewhere.

Usually I try to put myself in the least dangerous location I can. Like I know the signs for myself, so I often put as much distance between myself, outside, and places with oopsie daisy objects as possible.

Shout out to the time I was locked out of the house so I decided to ought to live behind the shed. No one would find me there. I can hop the fence to come and go. Much like a wasp. As that's better for society. Unironically I was planning to restart my life and become a runaway. Since y'know wasps and bees are less likely to sting you if you are familiar to them. I am lucky the key to the shed was inside. I didn't get to interact with the gas canisters or live wasp nest.

Everyone is one Strange Mood from discovering the wonders of life or doing something they'd really regret.

As like- when I am in this mood I would unironically agree to taking a bus for hours to fist fight someone... Me, a person who handles pressure, competition, or conflict with the grace of a wrung out wet paperbag. In a Strange Mood that's all gone baby! I WOULD wrestle a crocodile to release it in a food court; Where it belongs!! Like God and Zoo Tycoon intended!!

I am so lucky I wasn't born in Florida

99% of "mysterious disappearances" esp of people in their 20s who start acting weird for 48 hours and then vanish are not mysterious, thats just when a lot of reality-obliterating mental illness tends to kick in and it's pretty easy to get a short circuit in your brain that makes you go family guy death pose in joshua tree national park. it's not any less tragic, it's just a documented phenomenon and not particularly predictable. its a big reason the medical advice is for people with a family history of schizophrenia to completely avoid weed and psychedelics. "people just go crazy sometimes" is a principle of human health that used to be a lot more accepted prior to the american midcentury and to a certain extent thats a healthier way to conceptualize and prepare for the risk, as opposed to the modern assertion that anyone acting weird is dangerous and broken forever.

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 3

Part 2

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 1664

The next morning when Damian woke up everyone was much more prepared to deal with his inevitable attack. The restraint on his ankle and Alfred the cat still napping on him helped deal with most of the initall anger that radiated off him though. The goal right now was to convince Damian that he had been de-aged, and all he needed to do was stay with them until the magic wore off. 

The topic of Danyal would come later, for now they needed to focus on Damian. 

Everyone had also prepared an item to show Damian to prove to him that they were telling the truth about his current situation. Alfred was first and had brought him a cup of tea the exact way the young boy preferred when he had first joined them at the manor. Duke showed Damian his school yearbook, and had marked which pages had an older Damian in them. Jason rummaged through the art room and pulled out a few old sketchbooks. 

Those had done well enough to calm the baby assassin down so that Bruce was able to explain the details to the young Damian. Which only served to make him think that instead of this being a test from his grandfather it was actually a scheme to draw him away from his birthright as one of the heirs to the demon head. 

To help further convince him Tim printed out the first DNA test they had done with Damian; making sure to note that the dates on these can’t be altered. Then Dick had showed him photos of him dressed in his Robin costume. What was strange though is that Damian didn’t look pridefully at the photos, only confused. 

Finally it was Bruce’s turn and no one was surprised when it turned out to be a family photo album. It was filled with photos of everyone from the last few years. Pictures of both big and small moments that the family had gone through. What was surprising though is when Damian practically exploded with rage with every page he turned. 

“Chum, is something wro-” Bruce tries to start once he sees how affected the photo album is making him. Only for said book to be launched at his head before he can finish speaking. 

“Get out!” Damian snarls as his eyes dart to everyone around the room as he repeats his words, “Get out!” 

“I told you this wasn’t going to work.” 

“Not now, Jason.” 

Dick makes an obvious move of wanting to comfort Damian, but is clearly holding himself back knowing that his succor would only make things worse. “Dami…” 

“You do not have the right to call me that,” Damian's breath starts to speed up with tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “The only one that will ever be allowed to use that name has apparently been long absent from my life. So I will repeat myself only once more; get out.” 

No one makes any move to leave at first and it isn’t until Tim clears his throat as well as putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder does the others finally move. It takes both Duke and Tim to get Bruce out of the room, and Jason ends up having to practically drag Dick out. 

“Why did you pull me away from him! He was clearly on the verge of a breakdown based around the fact that Danyal, his twin, never came here with him! Damian needs someone to be with him right now!” Dick angrily breaks out of Jason's hold on him. 

Jason, immediately matching Dick’s tone retorts, “Since when has that kid ever liked having family much less strangers comfort him? Cause newsflash Dickiebird that what we are to him right now, nothing but strangers who are trying to act way too familiar with him. The only thing your sympathy will do right now is just make things worse!” 

“I’m not going to let my currently 6 year old baby brother mourn a death by himself!”

“We don’t actually know if Danyal is dead or not right now. Just that he didn’t arrive with Damian at the manor 4 years ago.” Tim interjects before any more arguing between the two can continue. “For all we know Ra’s could have sent one twin away to here while keeping the other involved with the league.” 

“Wouldn’t have Damian said something by now if that was the case? He obviously cared a lot for Danyal.” Duke honestly doesn’t know what the right decision is right now, but he’s more inclined to agree with Jason right now. 

Tim runs a hand through his hair in thought, “14 year old Damian, maybe. The Damian that first arrived at the manor four years ago, no way. Especially if he was told explicitly not to say anything. That little brat was still deep in the league mindset, and would have done anything Talia or Ra’s said.”

“Wouldn’t have Ra’s already used Danyal against Bruce though? He’s had plenty of opportunities to use the knowledge of a second child to get B to do practically anything for him. What possible scenario would he be saving that information for?” Dick at this point seems to have calmed down. He’s still obviously wanting to be with Damian, but also knows that Jason is right about how his presence wouldn’t be appreciated at the moment. 

Jason instead of offering any answers to Dick’s questions turns to direct his lingering anger at Bruce, “You’re being awfully fucking quiet right now B, what do you have to say about all this?”

“... I think it’s time to call Talia. I wanted to wait and give Damian the chance to explain himself before doing so, but if the league does still have Danyal we need to start planning his rescue as soon as possible.” 

After asking the boys to keep an eye on Damian, and to check in on him every once in a while without distressing him more Bruce headed upstairs towards his office. Once there he silently stares at the phone in his hand. 

It had been devastating to learn that he had a son, and missed out on so much of his life. Bruce had been angry at Talia, furious even, especially when she had raised Damian to be a child assassin. To learn that she had done this not once but twice shattered him. Even more so when he thinks about how his second son might still be a part of that life when he could have been living here with him instead. 

The alternative to that thought though, the unfortunate more likely option, is that Danyal is dead. 

That he had failed yet another child. 

Bruce presses the number and puts the phone to ear. With each unanswered ring he sees flashes of what could have been if both boys had arrived that day. What was Danyal even like? Was he similar to Damian, or was he the complete opposite? 

“Beloved, what a pleasant surprise hearing from you.”

“I know about Danyal.” Bruce leans back in his chair with his eyes closed. Today has already been exhausting, and he knows that it’s not going to get any better anytime soon. “What happened to him?” 

The amount of silence that follows tells him that for maybe the first time he has truly shocked Talia with his words. Eventually though she answered, sorrow clear as day in her voice, “How much do you know?” 

“I’d rather you tell me what you know right now.” 

“Danyal died two weeks before Damian was sent to live with you.”

There it was, the hard truth. A child that he was never given the chance to hold, to meet, and to love was dead. Bruce had nothing to hold onto from a child that died way too young. 

“My Father and Damian are the only ones that truly know what happened in that room; I didn’t even know at the time that he had pulled the two of them from their afternoon studies.” She continues softly, “By the time I reached them Danyal was gone. I imagine Ra’s wanted to make an example out of him because he had put his body into the pits … only he never came back out. The pits had even taken his body with them.” 

“Did you never question what happened to him?” 

“Ra’s told me it was none of my concern when I questioned him, and he forbade Damian from telling me himself. He had all evidence of Danyal erased after that; he only exists now in the memory of those who knew him.” 

“Would you have ever told me about him?”

“No.” 

“Hm.” Bruce doesn’t do anything more than acknowledging her response before hanging up, and putting the phone down. He wasn’t going to get any more information out of her, and he had more important things to focus on right than interrogating Talia. It seems they’re all just going to have to wait for Damian to learn what happened to Danyal anyway. 

For now though he needs to go back downstairs and make sure they haven’t exploded into chaos due to his absence, but as he exits his office he makes a quiet promise to himself and Danyal. “Even in death you will be a part of this family; I’m so sorry you will never get the chance to know just how much they already love you.” 

Once he reaches the batcave once more he sees Tim and Duke at the computer, Jason laid back with his feet on the center table, and Dick leaning by the med bay door. All of them though stop what they’re doing and look towards him as he enters; waiting for him to tell them what has become of the brother they’ve never met. 

“Danyal is dead.” It hurts to watch his sons lose what little hope they had that maybe by the end of this their brother would be coming home. 

[solxamber]

HELLO!! Hi!! My goodness I really hope I'm not too late!! I really love your works and had been way too busy these days to scroll on here like usual. Seeing that you have a holiday event had caught my eye and the whole thing makes it so cute!! I was hoping maybe you could do Heartslabyul, 7, Fluff or pomefiore, 4, comedy!! Happy Holidays and thank you so much for working hard with these events!! ❄️🤍

thank you so much! Happy holidays <3

(I'll take any opportunity to write for my wife :) I'm also running out of title ideas someone send help)

Perfectly Reasonable Reaction || Vil Schoenheit

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "I'm NOT jealous" ; Genre: Comedy

It was just another day of being the prefect/unofficial errand-runner/problem-fixer/therapist at NRC.

This time, you were helping a nervous first-year untangle a charm spell gone wrong. With zero magic to your name, this mostly involved you holding the instructions and squinting at the text like it was written in ancient runes (which, frankly, it might as well have been).

“Okay,” you said, pointing at the paper. “Try… flicking your wrist, but like… less aggressively. Right now, it looks like you’re swatting a fly that insulted your mother.”

The freshman nodded frantically, his hands trembling as he adjusted his stance. You smiled encouragingly, even as you silently prayed he wouldn’t accidentally explode the lounge.

Across the room, Vil was perched on one of the elegant sofas, sipping tea with the precision of a king. And by “sipping tea,” you mean glaring daggers at the poor first-year while trying to look aloof.

“Roi du Poison,” Rook whispered dramatically from beside him, his eyes sparkling. “Your expression is most tempestuous today. Could it be the fires of jealousy I see in your eyes?”

Vil didn’t even dignify that with a response. He simply crossed his legs, radiating judgment.

“I’m not jealous,” Vil said eventually, setting down his tea with the kind of grace that would make royalty weep. “I’m merely concerned for my significant other’s safety. The freshman looks like he might combust at any second.”

“Oh, naturally,” Rook replied, clearly trying not to laugh.

You, oblivious to the brewing storm behind you, clapped as the first-year finally managed the spell without disaster. “See? You got it! You’re a natural.”

The freshman looked like he might cry with gratitude before scampering off, leaving you to clean up the scattered papers.

Which is when Vil swooped in like a bird of prey spotting its target.

“Darling,” he said smoothly, already taking the papers from your hands.

You blinked up at him. “Vil? What’re you—”

“You’ve been standing far too long. Sit.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sit,” he repeated, and before you could argue, he placed both hands on your shoulders and gently pushed you into the nearest chair.

“Uh… okay?”

Then, without warning, he sat on your lap.

Your brain stalled. “Vil. What.”

“I see this as a necessary course of action,” he said loftily, adjusting his position until he was comfortably settled.

“...For what?”

“For ensuring that everyone here understands you’re unavailable.” His arms looped around your neck, his tone casual, but his eyes daring anyone to approach.

“I was helping a freshman,” you said, biting back a laugh.

“Yes, well, he seemed very comfortable with your assistance,” Vil replied, sniffing imperiously.

“He looked like he wanted to die,” you pointed out.

“I’m not jealous,” Vil declared immediately, his pout saying otherwise.

“Oh, obviously,” you deadpanned. “You’re just… asserting dominance by turning my lap into a throne.”

“Exactly,” he said, completely missing your sarcasm.

You couldn’t help it anymore—you burst out laughing, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Vil, you’re ridiculous. I love you, but this? This is a lot.”

His cheeks pinked, but he didn’t move. “If it ensures people don’t get too close, then it’s worth it.”

You grinned, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Well, Mr. Not Jealous, you’re cute when you’re clingy.”

His face went a shade darker, but he still didn’t budge. Instead, he sighed dramatically, resting his head on your shoulder. “Be that as it may, you should be more cautious. You’re magicless, and people will take advantage of that.”

“Yeah, because freshmen with shaky hands are definitely my greatest threat,” you teased.

“Watch it,” he warned, but his voice was fond.

Behind him, Rook was positively vibrating with delight, a camera in his hand. “Ah, what a beautiful scene! The protective Vil, shielding his beloved with the ultimate act of affection—shared proximity!”

You and Vil turned to glare at him, but Vil’s arms stayed firmly around you.

“Remind me to confiscate that later,” you muttered.

Vil’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “As you wish, darling.”

And so, you sat there, Vil refusing to move from your lap, your legs starting to go numb, and the entire lounge buzzing with gossip. But hey—at least you weren’t helping any more freshmen.

Masterlist

[kathlare]

through the screen

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: As Lando relaxes with Max after a ski trip, a simple gaming stream turns into a heartfelt moment when he tunes in to watch Amelie on the premiere carpet for Wicked.

Wordcount: 1.0 k

Warnings: just fluff

December 21st, 2024 - London, United Kingdom

Lando plopped himself down on Max Fewtrell’s worn-in leather couch, a steaming mug of tea balanced precariously in his hand. His legs stretched out, brushing against Max’s coffee table, which was littered with empty soda cans, a half-eaten pizza, and one of Max’s hoodies.

—You could at least pretend to clean up when you’ve got company,—Lando teased, giving Max a pointed look.

—Mate, you’re not company, you practically live here,— Max shot back, settling down beside him with a bowl of crisps. —Besides, you’re just here to freeload my Wi-Fi and stream. Don’t act high and mighty.—

Lando rolled his eyes but grinned, sipping his tea. They’d just gotten back from his ski trip, and while it had been a blast, he was exhausted. Still, nothing sounded better than unwinding with Max and streaming a bit for the fans.

—Alright, let’s get this started,— Max said, booting up his PC and launching the streaming software. —You’re lucky I’m letting you hijack my setup.—

—Don’t pretend you don’t love it,— Lando replied, leaning over to adjust his camera. Within minutes, the stream was live, and the chat began exploding with messages.

—Alright, alright, calm down, chat. Yes, I’m back. Yes, I survived the ski trip,— Lando said, settling into his usual streaming energy. —Barely, though. Max here almost took me out with his shit skiing.—

—Oi! I was great,— Max interjected, shoving a handful of crisps into his mouth.

—Sure, mate. You were great at falling on your arse every five minutes,— Lando shot back, smirking.

The chat lit up with laughter emojis and comments, and Max pretended to glare at the screen.

—Right, let’s see what we’ve got lined up for today. Bit of gaming, maybe some Q&A. Keep it chill,— Max said, clicking through a few settings.

But as they got started, a notification popped up on Lando’s phone. He glanced at it, then froze, his eyes widening.

—Oh, shit,— he muttered.

—What?— Max asked, leaning over.

—The Wicked New York premiere is starting. Ames is probably on the carpet right now,— Lando said, his voice softening as he pulled up the livestream on his phone.

Max gave him a knowing look. —You want me to put it up on the big screen?—

—You read my mind,— Lando said, his grin spreading as Max switched the stream to the TV.

The chat exploded again.

“He’s so whipped.” “Lando’s about to start simping.” “Can’t blame him. Amelie is stunning.”

As the stream began showing the yellow carpet, Lando leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze glued to the screen. When Amelie appeared, her glittering gown catching the lights, he let out an audible breath.

—That’s my girl,— he said softly, almost to himself.

—Here we go,— Max teased, nudging him. —Full simp mode activated.—

—Shut up, mate. Look at her. She’s…— Lando trailed off, shaking his head with a smile that practically lit up the room. —She’s unreal. How is she real?—

The chat was going crazy, with fans spamming heart emojis and comments like:

“LAN IS WHIPPED.” “Couple goals, honestly.” “Protect this man at all costs.”

Max laughed, tossing a crisp at Lando. —You’re acting like you’ve never seen her before.—

—I haven’t seen her in person for a week, alright?— Lando said dramatically, leaning back against the couch. —And she’s been busy with this press tour and all these premieres. She looks amazing. She always does, but this… bloody hell.—

Max shook his head, laughing. —You’re unbelievable, mate. Absolutely gone for her.—

—Damn right I am,— Lando said proudly. He pointed at the screen as Amelie waved at the fans and posed for photos. —That’s my girlfriend. Mine. I still can’t believe it sometimes.—

—We know, mate. Trust me, we know,— Max said, grinning.

The chat, meanwhile, was eating it up.

“He’s literally glowing just talking about her.” “The way he’s staring at the screen tho 😭.” “Amelie better watch this later. He’s so proud.”

Lando leaned back, letting out a content sigh. —You know what’s funny? I don’t even care if the chat thinks I’m being dramatic. I miss her like crazy. I mean, it’s only been a week, but it feels like months.—

—You two were glued at the hip for a month straight before this, mate. What did you expect?— Max teased.

—Yeah, but it’s different now. We’ve got this rhythm, you know? We’re both busy, but we make it work. And when we’re together… it’s just easy. Feels like we’ve been doing this forever,— Lando said, his tone softening.

Max gave him a genuine smile. —You’ve got it bad, Lan. But it suits you.—

—Thanks, I think?— Lando replied, chuckling. He glanced at the chat and grinned. —Alright, chat. Say what you want, but I’ll never shut up about her. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.—

The chat lit up again, with messages like:

“He’s so in love, it’s insane.” “Amelie is one lucky woman, but honestly, so is Lando.” “We love a supportive boyfriend.”

As the stream continued, Lando and Max kept the premiere playing in the background. Every time Amelie appeared on screen, Lando would light up, pointing out little things like how she adjusted her dress or how she smiled at a fan.

—You’re going to see her tomorrow, aren’t you?— Max asked, trying to suppress a grin.

—Yeah, but not soon enough,— Lando said, running a hand through his hair. —And then we’re spending Christmas in Mexico with her family. Can’t bloody wait.—

—Better get ready for her brothers to give you shit,— Max said, laughing.

—I’ve survived worse. Besides, they like me now. Mostly,— Lando replied, smirking.

Max laughed, shaking his head. —You’re so whipped, mate. But honestly? Good for you.—

Lando just grinned, his eyes flicking back to the screen. —Yeah. Good for me.—

[m3vl0vesu]

~

A/N: Soooo hi. I’m alive!! Anyway this is a oneshot(?) about…idrk but you’ve lost most of your memories and Nayvee was your hero name/what people used to call you. I started writing it at exactly 9pm on the 26th of december. Also reading back on my old writing, people liked that? Anyways, enjoy!! Tw angst and mentions of scars, mentions of abuse, nothing to gritty :) Gender neutral reader and racially ambiguous ;) oh and don't copy plwase

Every window was slightly open, just enough to make the whole apartment cold. There was even a cold mist from under the door, hitting the sides of your arms. It stung. So cold you could almost see your cats slow breaths, well it was really a random stray but with so little to call yours why not hang on to a silly kitty?

The only bit of warmth was the cigarette in your hand, the small thing filled up your lungs. Made your heart beat with guilt and longing, it felt so good. Good but so bad. It was the only light in your life, the burning cigarette butt and the flame used to light it. It was a pathetic life, but it was yours. A person behind the screen, fixing other people's problems and slip ups, an eraser that’s what you were. Erasing people's lives just as people erased yours. Every impact, every solution, every person saved and every person killed because of you, gone. Like it was completely nothing, like every scar on your back and every scar on your arms were worth nothing. A body full of stories but stories that shall sadly never be heard. It was almost peaceful, it’s not like you really wanted to remember anyway, but the option would’ve been nice. 

It hurts your head. It always hurts, filled with constant screams and pleads of help. Words of anger and authority, that one you did remember. You remembered all of it, down to the slurred praise and constant cussing. A voice that had been whispering to you since you were all but an embryo, a voice that you watched fade. Here it became rougher with every puff, every packet seemed to be gone within days. 

No wonder, now you understand. All that begging and crying just to wound up enjoying the same cruel substances.

Your peaceful tappink of keys was sadly interrupted. It was almost routinely, the pixels on your laptop would display 23:25 and you would hear it. The squeaking of the window in the kitchen, and then a heavy thud followed after. It would bring in a large gush of wind, and the rotten smell of gotham roads, made it all the better to have a cigarette in between your lips. Soon you’d hear a man, the man. The man with the heavy kevlar suit and the cape. Oh you hated that cape, the way it sounded when it dragged across your kitchen tiles made you want to scratch your eyes out. Every footstep closer towards you felt like a warning, like a threat. His whole presence towards you was a threat, one step out of line, one sentence dubbed too insane and you're done. Everything stripped away as quick as your memory was.

“Well you're as punctual as ever, aren’t you Bruce?” It felt wrong, just uttering his name like you knew him.

Maybe Nayvee knew him, but you? This fucked up version of you? No recollection of this man, not even of his public persona. You only knew the Dark Knight, and not the one that saved babies from some underground crime, no. You knew the one that would stand over a suffering body and not give them the pleasure of death, he taunted you waiting for it. Waiting for the ticking bomb to finally explode. It felt like he was just visiting to find a reason to get rid of you. It was always the guessing game with this man. Then again he was the only one of your so-called friends to visit. 

“...” and it was nothing from him. Just brooding silence and the occasional huff and sigh. He was different today, less tense. His fists were less clenched and his shoulders less tense, it wasn’t a scowl or a watchful eye-not that you could see his eyes- on his face but it was just a neutral expression. Or more of a neutral feeling, that cowl sure did its job.

“Good day today, B? No crime I’m guessing or-”

“There’s always crime in Gotham.” Well no shit. He knew what you meant, or maybe he didn’t. Maybe his armour is just as thick as his skull, at least there was a response this time. “Also don’t call me Bruce.”

“...right, sorry. B, can I call you B? I’ll call you, B.” Right. Another line, another step back. It felt like you were always so far from this man in front of you. It was like torture, the constant silence and the constant interrogation. The past was gone, so why is he trying, almost desperately, to get you to remember something? There was nothing, nothing to do but to turn right to the blinding screen and puff out smoke from your blackened lungs. Lonely. You’d have to be so desperate to expect anything but silence from Gotham’s Ghost. Brucie Wayne was a complete opposite from this shell of a man below you. Yes below, for some reason he’s kneeling on his knees, looking up at the mental mess you were. Smudged day old makeup and hair that not even the greatest hairstylist could fix, and he’s looking at it. There’s something in his eyes, something that you’ve seen before. Is it anger? Is it guilt, longingness, or is it disgust?

Probably the latter.

“God…” What? God what? Why does his voice sound like that, why was he even here? There is nothing in this apartment of worth, and definitely not to him. He had no need for money, he’s the richest fool in New Jersey. There’s no evidence of whatever you committed or any incriminating documents, he’s already checked. Not even a gun in this useless place. So ‘God’ what? “You’ve never looked so much like your Father.” 

Even though it was cruel, it was true. The heavy purple-ish eyebags digging into your skin, the empty eyes full of nothing but the reflection of work. The cigarette being the only other things that your attention is on and the empty beer bottles behind the sofa. It was like watching a scene from forty-something years ago. The runaway child becoming the very thing they hated, a tale as old as time. A tale that is only seen in fragments, very violent fragments.

.

.

.

“Shut up.” He can’t just say that. That’s not something-someone he should know. And it’s evident on his face, the way he immediately goes back to that infuriating mask. Don’t shut up, say more. Tell me more, please. “Please.” Stop making me feel like this.

“I…I am sorry.” 

“For what, Bruce just-” no, desperation was a big no no. Sadness? No. You were over it, it didn’t matter anymore. “You know what? A drink is good, I’m gonna get a drink. Do you want a drink? I’ll get you a drink.” it was the rambling, made you seem insane. But so what? So what if it was rude not to wait for an answer, there was no one to beat the manners, into you was there? As you got out of the chair it felt like your body was going to give out. It was all too much, what was too much?

Nothing.

The nothingness, no laughter, no embracing, no happy glimpses, no it was just nothing. One step towards him felt like a step towards an edge. In both situations gravity was not on your side. The black bat displayed across his chest blurred, as did everything around you. The headache was no longer there, just warm hands and a heartbeat. A racing heartbeat.

You hope it isn’t yours. Hope the warmth is deaths hand embracing you, or hell getting prepared for it’s newest guest.

[tanjamikaelson]

BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER - CHAPTER 16

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 16: | I DO, I LOVE YOU |

The next day, you gathered all the courage you could muster to go see Rafe. You knew this conversation would be difficult, but you needed to try to make him understand why you had been with the Pogues. Maybe you could explain it in a way that would get through to him.

When you found him in his room, it was in complete disarray, with clothes and objects scattered everywhere. It mirrored the turmoil you knew was going on in his mind. Rafe stood by the window, his posture tense, as if he’d been pacing the room for hours. You knocked softly on the door and hesitated before stepping halfway inside.

“Can we talk?” you asked quietly, your voice soft, almost pleading.

Rafe turned to face you, his expression hardening immediately. His sigh was heavy, as though seeing you brought back all the pain he’d been trying to suppress. He rubbed his eyes in frustration. “Why were you with them?!” he demanded, his voice sharp, hurt flashing across his icy blue eyes. You opened your mouth to explain, but before you could get a word out, he snapped, his voice tinged with accusation, “I was right. You’d choose her over me.”

“No, you’re wrong,” you said quickly, your heart sinking at how much he misunderstood. “I would never rat you out, okay? I promise.” You took a step forward, trying to reach for his arm, but he pulled back, his hands shooting up defensively.

Rafe shook his head, backing away from you like he couldn’t bear to let you in. “I don’t believe you,” he muttered, his voice low but dripping with pain.

Your heart broke a little more with every word he said. “Please, Rafe. You have to believe me,” you pleaded, your voice trembling as you took another hesitant step toward him.

Then he hit you with the question you hadn’t expected. "I want you to tell me something, I want you to tell me the truth, Y/N. Do you even love me?" His eyes locked onto yours, burning with desperation as if your answer was the only thing keeping him together.

The question took you by surprise, and for a moment, you stood frozen. You hadn’t expected this, you hadn’t expected this would be the moment to tell him, not now. But you couldn’t lie to him. Not after everything.

“I do. I love you, Rafe,” you said softly, your voice almost a whisper as you searched his eyes, hoping for any flicker of emotion, any sign that he believed you. But instead, you were met with that cold, guarded stare.

He shook his head again, his mouth twisting in bitter disbelief. “You don’t love me. If you did, you would be by my side,” he said, his words like knives cutting through the space between you.

“I am by your side,” you insisted, your voice cracking under the weight of his rejection.

But Rafe wasn’t having it. “No, you’re not,” he shot back, his tone harsh and biting. “All you did was try to stop me from finding John B, from doing what I had to do. You helped them escape.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to explain yourself. “It’s because I don’t want to see you consumed by your anger,” you said, a single tear sliding down your cheek. “When I saw Pope choking you, I was afraid he would kill you.”

Rafe’s gaze hardened again, his lips curling into a sneer. “And you still left with them,” he reminded you, his voice full of resentment.

“You told me to go,” you whispered, hoping he would remember that moment, that he had pushed you away first.

“Not with them!” Rafe’s voice exploded in anger, making you flinch. His outburst reverberated through the room, sharp and cutting.

“I’m sorry—” you began, but the words caught in your throat as he cut you off again.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it,” Rafe said coldly, his voice eerily calm now. “I want you to leave.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “You don’t mean that,” you whispered, refusing to believe he truly wanted you gone.

“Yes, I do,” he said, his tone colder than you’d ever heard before. “I want you to fucking leave.” He pointed aggressively at the door behind you, his finger trembling with rage.

You stood there, frozen, your heart breaking into pieces. You could see the hurt in his eyes, but it was buried so deep beneath his anger, that you didn’t know how to reach him. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t leave him like this.

But Rafe had had enough. His patience snapped, and before you could react, he grabbed your arm and pushed you roughly toward the door. “Don’t come back,” he said through clenched teeth, his voice filled with finality.

And with that, he slammed the door shut in your face, leaving you standing there in the hallway, tears streaming down your cheeks. The echo of the door closing felt like the final nail in the coffin, and you knew, at least for now, that he had shut you out.

RAFE’S POV:

As soon as the door slammed shut, Rafe’s whole body trembled with anger. His heart pounded in his chest, every muscle tense and rigid as if he was holding himself together by sheer will. He stood there, his back pressed against the door, his hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles were white.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw something, punch the walls, anything to release the storm of emotions raging inside of him. He had just thrown you out���pushed away the one person who had been there for him through all the chaos, and it tore him apart more than he was willing to admit.

But he couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t forgive the fact that you had helped Sarah and John B. His own sister and that Pogue—the two people who had turned his life upside down. He hated them for what they’d done, and now, you were mixed up in it too. He wanted to believe that you loved him, that you were still on his side, but his anger clouded everything.

And yet, even in his rage, he felt the sting of regret. He loved you—he knew that much, even if he hadn’t said it. But the words felt stuck in his throat, suffocated by the bitterness he couldn’t shake. He hated himself for how things had spiraled out of control, for letting his anger push you away. But right now, he couldn’t think clearly. He couldn’t see past the rage and betrayal.

Still leaning against the door, Rafe closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to steady his breathing. The image of you standing there, tears in your eyes, refusing to give up on him despite everything—it made his chest tighten with guilt. But his pride, his anger, wouldn’t let him soften. Not now. He couldn’t forgive you for helping them. Not yet.

For now, he had to let you go, even if it felt like tearing a piece of himself away.

Y/N’S POV:

You stood frozen in front of Rafe’s door, unable to move, unable to process what had just happened. The only thing breaking the stillness were the silent tears rolling down your cheeks. It felt like the ground beneath you had crumbled, and you were just... standing there, unable to catch your breath, drowning in the weight of everything.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally managed to turn on your heels. Your vision was blurred by the tears, making each step down the stairs feel like you were navigating through a fog. You gripped the railing tightly, trying to steady yourself, trying not to stumble as the sobs threatened to break free from your chest.

Once you reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped out into the yard, you were met by Rose. Her face was lined with concern as she noticed the tears staining your cheeks. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice gentle but laced with worry.

But you couldn’t speak. If you tried, you knew the dam would break, and the sobs you were holding back would spill out uncontrollably. So instead, you just waved your hand dismissively, not trusting yourself to say anything. You didn’t want to break down in front of her.

You hurried to your car, your hands trembling as you fumbled with the keys, desperate to escape, desperate to be alone. The moment you closed the car door behind you, the sobs finally came, shaking your body as you tried to keep your breathing steady. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, but it was no use—the tears just kept coming.

As you drove away from Tannyhill, all you could think about was the look in Rafe’s eyes. The coldness, the disappointment—it cut deeper than anything. He had never looked at you that way before, and it felt like a knife twisting in your chest. His words echoed in your mind, "You helped them escape."

But the only thing that truly haunted you was the thought that you hadn’t helped them escape at all. You had helped them die. You had thought you were saving them, but now they were gone—Sarah, your best friend... gone.

It hurt just the same. The ache in your heart, the heaviness of it all—it was too much to bear. You didn’t know how to fix this. You didn’t know if you even could.

You had lost Sarah. And now, it seemed, you had lost Rafe too.

TAGS: @wearemadeofstardust0 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @thepopcultureaddict @deeznuggetsbebussin@wtfdudesblog

[waitingandwishing]

(Cross posted on Wattpad)

Prev - Next Chapter

Y’know why my name is Y/N? It’s not. It’s technically a nickname… My real name is Isaac… And I know you’re probably thinking. ‘Why is she named Isaac? That’s a boy's name!’ And it is. Funny isn’t it?

I think my dad wanted me to be a boy. But then, I was a girl. And I remember he was so angry. ‘I have not been blessed with a son, but a daughter! How useless is that? What good could a daughter do to our family!?’

Sexist piece of shit. And then he died… Karma’s a bitch isn’t it? I always thought he died because of an explosion, I thought he died from an accident. But… I don’t think it was an accident.

I think I killed him. In an explosion I created… Maybe that was why I was so upset with Jinx. Because I killed her just like I killed him.

Was I born to be a mage? Born to possess something so beautiful yet dangerous? Born to curse everyone around me, even my own family? My mother, who wanted to see the world, died because of her grief. I wonder, even now, how could she mourn someone so horrible? 

Afterall, I killed him yet felt no remorse doing so because he deserved it. And I was upset how short his death was, how exploding him was the least painful way to die.

But then I was cast out to the Undercity, cast out from Topside. I met Vi, Powder, Claggor, Mylo, Vander, and… Viktor. Would it be selfish of me to say I still loved him? I loved him for a long time, never knowing if we would ever be together.

It was silly, I know. Viktor chose ambition over love and look where that got him, up in Piltover frolicking in a field. I chose differently. And that turned out well… A lost leg and a broken family. 

Mojí drahoušek… That’s what Viktor used to call me. I daydreamed about seeing him again, waking up with him, and teaching at the academy with him or maybe be a ballet teacher. 

The Undercity would be equal to Topside, the borders would no longer be there and we would all be called Piltover as one.

I would visit Powder and Vi in the Undercity on my days off, Vander and the rest of them would be alive and Silco would work at the bar with him. Their parents would be alive, my mother would live and my father would be a better person or still dead.

I wonder if there were alternate universes, that there are people amongst the stars that decided one universe got to be the good one.

It seems as though every time I leave, I choose the wrong choice, and it ends up worse. I shouldn’t have visited Viktor, I shouldn’t have trusted Silco. I should’ve done this, I should’ve done that. I always choose the wrong choice.

I’m selfish. The idea is selfish but… I can save her and Viktor. If magic can do anything, I can save them. I was born to be a liberator, born to be a savior, born to be a saint.

And this time I will be selfish in what I want to save.

_____________________________________________________

Y/N wasn’t sure why, but she could feel her left leg again. Even after it had been shattered in the explosion, blown apart, torn to pieces. Somehow, someway, her leg had healed. The sensations were strange, almost like it was never gone at all, as if it had been returned to her, whole and whole again. 

Maybe it was due to Singed’s shimmer, maybe it was because of her magic, or maybe, just maybe, it was both working in tandem, like a perfect storm. Either way, it was ugly. Gold speckles of energy marred the purple, distorted muscle beneath, veins like lightning coursing through it.

It wasn’t pretty, but it was hers, and it felt familiar in a way. New, yet something she had always known, some odd reflection of herself that had been hidden away.

But even with this strange miracle, Y/N wasn’t sure what she was doing anymore. She felt weightless, untethered, drifting as though her very existence was suspended in a dream. 

Yet, at the same time, she was filled with so much power and yet felt like she had none. 

There was so much energy, yet she felt so drained, so utterly exhausted, as though the very essence of her had been torn apart and remade, again and again, leaving her hollow in places no one could see. 

She wasn’t sure what this feeling was. All she knew was that it was overwhelming, and yet she couldn’t find a way to process it.

Y/N missed so many people. Her heart ached for them, and every inch of her wished she could go back, rewind time, take back every mistake. She missed Ekko, his eager face always ready to cheer her up and how he looked up to Vi and her like they were the only ones who could save him. 

She missed Vander, the father figure who had given her hugs she never got from her real father, those warm, safe embraces that made her feel like she was worth something. 

She missed Vi, her partner in crime, the only one who had ever understood her completely. She missed Claggor and Mylo too. They’d always made her laugh, even when she was seething with anger (no matter how much she wanted to punch Mylo in the face at times). 

And she missed Viktor.

What could she say about Viktor? She missed everything about him. The way he laughed, the warmth of his embrace, the hours they spent inventing and imagining new possibilities together. 

She hated herself for the kaleidoscope of colors that now stained her eyes, bleeding together and making her lose sight of that familiar, comforting dark blue. 

She hated that she was so different now, that she couldn’t even look at herself in the mirror without seeing someone else staring back. What was with the streak of black that had worked its way into her once-pure white hair? 

Why was she like this? Why did everything feel like it was slipping out of her control?

Maybe she was just born to be like this. Born to have so much love but no one left to give it to. So much emotion, yet none at all. It was a sick joke, wasn’t it? The world had given her everything, and yet, nothing at all.

Why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like she was being torn in two, empty yet somehow overflowing with all the wrong things? What was the point of wanting more when she had already lost so much? What was the point of staying alive if she had no one to live for? 

What was the point of anything anymore?

Maybe she was being selfish. Maybe she was holding onto some fleeting hope. She still had things to do, still had to see Jinx and Vi one last time, still had to hold Viktor close, just once more, before she… Before she left them all behind. 

Maybe she needed to find something for herself in whatever darkness this world had become, or perhaps the next.

Maybe in another universe, she’d be different.

She blinked, pulled out of her thoughts as Silco’s voice pierced through the fog. “My dear,” He said, standing up slowly, his gloved fingers tilting Y/N’s face up so she could meet his eyes, “I believe that Singed has told you you can finally see her.”

Y/N nodded, standing up shakily, as if the very air around her was made of something heavier than it should be. She looked up, and that was when she saw it— her eyes, no longer the pale blue they used to be, were now a neon pink, glowing with a manic intensity. 

Veins crawled up her neck and arms like blackened rivers, pulsing with an unnatural energy. She widened her eyes, struggling to process what was happening to her, but the answer never came.

“Oh my god…” Y/N whimpered, her voice breaking as she placed her hand gently on Jinx’s body. “Jinx… What has he done to you?” Her words were barely a whisper, lost in the heavy, charged air.

Time itself seemed to freeze, and then it shattered, like glass breaking into a thousand pieces.

“Oh, Jinx…” Y/N’s voice cracked as her eyes filled with tears. “What happened…” Her hands trembled as the rings on her fingers crackled with electric energy, runes etched into her skin glowing with a fierce blue light. “I was supposed to protect you, why didn’t I protect you?”

“You’re not a jinx, but I’ll call you that if you want,” Y/N whispered through her tears, “And you’ll always be my Bluejay…” 

The words felt like a promise, even though she didn’t know if she could keep it.

“You’ll always be in my heart. And I know you’re going to be upset, angry, and sad about what I’m about to do. I know you won’t understand and I know I promised you but this is something I have to do.”

“Everyone says they’re sorry. But you’ll never know if they truly mean it.” Y/N paused. “Let me be the first to truly say it. I’m sorry for not being there for you when you needed me.”

“And I’m sorry for doing this.” She wiped away a tear, and then she vanished, as if she had never existed, her presence flickering like a dying flame. The air hummed, leaving only the faintest buzz behind, like the aftermath of something great and terrible that had passed.

_____________________________________________________

Was it selfish of her to want to say one last goodbye to Topside before she left this world? Undeniably, yes. Did she do it anyway? Without a second thought.

Because that was who Y/N was. A walking contradiction of selfishness and selflessness. How could someone who always seemed to put others first still be driven by such deeply personal desires? Perhaps that was the nature of love itself, a contradiction that was both a weakness and a strength.

She thought about Viktor as she moved through the city, her mind a storm of conflicting emotions. How could she love someone so deeply and yet hold resentment for the choices he had made? How could she adore the quiet brilliance of his mind while despising the ambition that had taken him away from her? 

It was infuriating, and yet… She still loved him. That was love, wasn’t it? A contradiction she could never quite resolve.

And it wasn’t the only one.

She hated blood and dirt, the stains they left, the weight they carried. Yet her hands were steeped in both. Blood she had spilled and dirt she had trudged through. She had become an expert in taking lives even as she hated the act itself. Another contradiction.

Then there was Vi, her dear friend and sister in arms. Vi loved Powder, that much was clear, but she hated Jinx. Or at least, she said she did. But how could you love one and hate the other when they were the same person, the barriers between them bleeding together until it wasn’t all black and white.

Wasn’t that the cruelest contradiction of all? 

Y/N thought about how Vi had left Jinx, claiming it was out of love, but hadn’t she also promised she never would? Love and betrayal, loyalty and abandonment, how could they exist side by side? It wasn’t just a contradiction; it was selfish.

And Y/N was no different.

As she flickered in and out of reality, phasing past the guards and the walls as though they weren’t even there, she felt the shimmer and arcane coursing through her veins. 

Somehow, they harmonized within her, turning her into something new, something unstable. She moved like a shadow, slipping between people unnoticed, her presence more a suggestion than a fact.

‘Is it so selfish when you’ve never had anything you’ve wanted before?’ A voice echoed in her mind, soft and serpentine, wrapping around her thoughts like a vine.

“No, it isn’t,” Y/N whispered, her lips barely moving. The glow reflected in her kaleidoscopic eyes, a strange smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Glorious evolution… It sounds so familiar… Yet so new. The end of the beginning.”

‘Yes…’ the voice replied, a note of satisfaction in its tone.

“Hm.” Y/N let out a soft chuckle, the sound almost foreign to her ears. “I’m glad you agree with me.” She tilted her head, her gaze lingering on the swirling energy. “But… There’s still one person I want to see. I haven’t kept many of my promises in this life. So I cannot promise that I will join you… But, thank you.”

The arcane pulsed as if in response, a silent acknowledgment, before she turned her attention to the window. 

Outside, the blood moon hung low in the sky, its crimson light casting an ominous glow over the city. The world felt on the brink of collapse, yet in this moment, it was eerily still. 

She didn’t know why she was here, there was no point when she’d be gone anyways. No point when she was going to die, but it gave her a sense of comfort. Her mom always wanted to be a councilwoman, helping not only Piltover but Zaun as well… 

“Viktor, my love…” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling as she stared into the night. Her fingers traced the glass as though trying to reach him through the distance that separated them. “How do you do it? How do you keep moving forward when everything is falling apart?”

She closed her eyes, letting the weight of her emotions wash over her. Her love for him, her hatred for the world, her frustration with herself. All of it swirled together in a storm that threatened to consume her. Yet, even in the chaos, there was a quiet.

Because no matter how selfish her actions might seem, they were born from a love so fierce that it defied everything. And that was a contradiction she was willing to embrace.

“Where are you going?” Powder tugged on Y/N’s shirt, her curious blue eyes glinting under the dim light.

“I’m going somewhere special.” Y/N looked up at the red sky. “Goodbye, Bluejay.”

taglist: @night-fall-moon @cyberwears @g0ul666 (If you'd like to be added tell me in the comments!!!)

[misteria247]

'Is this man an idiot?'

Fiddleford thought as he bolted down the hall of the massive museum. It was supposed to be an easy heist, taking a rare piece of tech that Bill wanted. Abigale and Pacifica were on the ground floor, dressed in gowns to get a glimpse of the layout of the building. Disguised to not be recognized by Interpol. Which left Fiddleford to be the one to do the swiping of the piece. And it had gone smoothly. Well, until that one inspector came flying out, shouting and flinging handcuffs. Fiddleford dodged, his gun already drawn as he went racing down the halls. Stolen piece in hand.

"Paz! Abbey! The piece has been obtained! Time to do our grand exit girls!"

The inventor said in his earpiece. A shout, followed by heavy footsteps, barreled after him.

"FREEZE! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST! I SAID STOP-"

The inspector shouted, voice loud and gravelly. Fiddleford made a quick turn, just as the detective came rushing by, nearly hitting the column. The detective snapped his gaze towards Fidds, dark brown eyes flashing with annoyance. Before again setting after him. Fidds couldn't help but be impressed by how determined the detective was to get him in handcuffs.

'He's one stubborn son of a bitch huh? Well, he's about to get a taste of his own medicine.'

Fidds thought gun now pointed as he took a shot. The exploding pop rang out, and the inspector went down, having tripped in an effort to not be shot. Rushing towards the window, Fidds finally heard the sounds of Abigale's explosions sounding out. Along with party guests' screams of panic. Giving the inspector one last look, Fidds smiled, cocky.

"I would stick around darlin' but I've got a date that I can't be late for. Reckon I won't be seeing you anytime soon."

The criminal said cheekily. The other man's eyes flashed, irritating sparking before in a quick motion, he was up on his feet and sprinting straight towards Fidds. The country hick barely had a chance to process before he barely avoided being tackled. Leaving the inspector to go out the window.

"OH FUCK-!"

He shouted, grabbing the ledge. Fidds looked at him, dangling not only the stolen tech, but the detective's wallet as well.

"Till next time, Inspector Stanley Pines."

Fiddleford said, disappearing to meet up with Pacifica and Abigale. As he drew further away he, he heard Stanley yell out.

"YOU LITTLE WEASEL! THIS ISN'T OVER-!"

Fiddleford snorted.

'I believe it is actually.'

Pacifica and Abigale stood by the getaway car, waiting for Fiddleford to appear when they heard his footsteps.

"About time, Fidds! I was starting to think you got caught, old man!"

Abigale chimed, dark blue eyes brimming with amused teasing. Fidds rolled his eyes fondly.

"You wish you old witch."

He shot back playfully. Abigale let out a cackle as she got into the driver's seat. The car started up and was ready to go. Fiddleford was about to hop in when Pacifica hugged him briefly. Giving him a small squeeze.

"Was worried about you, Papa Fidds."

The blonde mumbled. The older man's heart melted.

"Ain't nothing to worry about, hon. Had to take care of something. Now let's get out of here, I reckon we stay any longer, and we'll be met with a hissy Bill."

The hillbilly said affectionately, rubbing her shoulder before she let go. The duo hoped in and raced down the road. Back towards the hideout. Fidds thought about Inspector Stanley Pines for a moment, recalling his eyes.

'If only he wasn't a cop. He's pretty cute, if a bit loud.'

Stanley Pines marched to the grand floor, growling and grumbling and furious. After having Mabel find him and help him back inside the building from the window still. He'd been rightfully embarrassed and annoyed.

'That stupid little lean weasel! Who does he think he is??!'

Stan thought, irritated, when he heard Ford's voice. His brother seemed to be scolding Dipper, unamused and frowning.

"....I can not believe you didn't arrest her Dipper! She and her group have gotten away with valuable equipment! I understand you're still new to this, but you can't just-oh Stanley. I was wondering where you'd gone off to! Did you manage to stop Mcgucket?"

Ford asked attention now away from a red faced Dipper who looked incredibly flustered. Stan was about to respond when Mabel beat him to it.

"Nope! Gruncle Stan got duped just like Dipper and Mcgucket got away!"

The teen chirped smiling with a knowing look. Ford's eyes narrowed and Stanley sighed. Dipper gave him a sympathetic look.

They both wouldn't hear the end of it.

[selnyam]

THEN vs NOW

i was tagged by @elliewiltarwyn ! thank you!

THEN:

this is one of the very first poses I ever took, back in 2021 shortly after subscribing so I could turn her into a Viera (she was a miqo for the trial) NOW

and now! oh how she's gone through changes both lore and character

Lost her voice to represent my changing from Black Mage to Dancer

Got BUFF to represent my changing to a Warrior Main

got into mods to make her BUFF and also a full lop. MORE BUNNY!!!

TEEF

thanks to SHB, made it that she had been lost in the void, making her a Voidsent.

I've written so much for her, she's a fully fleshed out character

started going to RP venues to help my writing, to get to know her better. Also started to post here which allowed me to meet SO MANY AMAZING PEOPLE!!

I think I'll tag @catwhoisawizard @cindernet-exploded, @sparrowsong-7, @mimble-sparklepudding, @iron-sparrow and @this-is-ris of course you don't have to if you don't want, and anyone who sees this who wants to that I didn't tag feel free!!

[emeritusterzo]

dreamer screaming in visceral agony then it cutting to raven’s devil primo is one of those wrestling things that is deeply engraved into my brain

[duusheen]

Where do you go If I don't love you anymore? 🎶

[crybaby-bkg]

asking nerd Bakugou to give you a ‘pearl necklace’ and he starts grumbling about you tryna drain him dry but instead of pulling out his cock, he pulls out his phone to actually search for a pearl necklace </3

and to both his surprise and embarrassment, his phone is quickly tossed away in favor of you showing him what you’re actually asking for. he’s not mad though—not when you end up looking so pretty covered in white, grinning, and asking for another necklace <3

[eyesore-boi]

You think that you're alone but

We are waiting for you every night...

You're mine.

Close ups and other stuff below!

...so....10 years, huh?

I cannot understate how much FNaF means to me in my life, and yeah...know that sounds a b i t much considering it's the funny har har bear games, but lemme explain-

Truth is, i was actually terrified of FNaF when it first came out! I remember my first introduction to it was when i was having a sleepover at my friend's place and he was both playing and watching other people play the first game, and when i was watching it with him, i got scared and tried to avoid the game as much as i could, even claiming to hate the game despite just knowing the first game. I was young and was prone to sheltering myself from stuff i didn't understand, and that being the first scary game i've ever seen caused that reaction, but over time...that changed.

It happened when i was watching YT and clicked on a comic dub i never seen before, thinking it was an AU for a fandom i was in (probably Undertale i dunno), but lo and behold, it was actually a fandub/animatic for the missing kids incident, and that...peaked my interest. I got curious on how this scary game actually had an interesting story to it and not just some game that goes boo. So, soon after that, i decided to look up simply "FNaF Story", found the Game Theory videos, and...the rest is history.

I was amazed and hooked, got invested in how the games explained the story in ways i've never seen before, got excited when i saw everything click together in real time, and pair that with how i got into the series r i g h t when Sister Location came out, arguably when the lore really started to kick off, i knew there was no going back now. I stuck with the series since. I watched all the animatics and dubs, listened to all the songs, tried drawing the characters, made OC's, and even talked to other people about this franchise.

And now look- Not gonna pretened this whole time it's been sunshine and (Chica's) rainbows, especially in recent times. The drop off SB caused, the lore getting more and more complicated and convoluted, the divide between older and newer fans, being the founder of Mascot Horror (for every Poppy Playtime there i s a Garten of Ban Ban) and course the IRL drama, but in all seriousness...i still wouldn't trade it for anything.

FNaF, this series, is my very first experience connecting me with a community like this, both good and bad, helping me understand how to properly enjoy media and even learn/take things from it, and i think without it i wouldn't be in the fandoms i'd be in now. The scary, horror ones, the niche, hard to find ones, story driven, character rich, and of course...more importantly...getting me into Markiplier, which further influenced the "outside the box" kind of thinking cause my g o d for these two stories you need too-

And speaking of, because of those two stories, it lead to me branching out more creativily and even creating my own webcomic for an AU combining both of them, so regardless on how that'll go, i'm just glad this series has influenced me enough to create something for others to see, since that's all i ever want to give.

But really, this franchise will forever be with me, and though i don't always agree with all of it (i haven't read any of the books in y e a r s and i refuse to do so), it only makes some of the stuff it does do right completely worth it (like the movie, peak cinema), and for where ever this bear shaped train is going next, well, i'll be here for the ride for all of it. No matter how many burning buildings it goes through.

...oh and um- Right yeah. The actual art piece. Uh....it crashed multiple times when drawing it. It's even a miracle i was able to export it. I can't even open it up anymore. So even if i wanted to change anything about it, i c a n 't -

But still pretty happy with how it came together! Was run drawing these robos, some being kinda redraws from the past, while other's i've n e v e r drawn before, so that was interesting! But still, tried to draw the "main character" so to say from each of the main FNaF games, and just kinda be...walking along through the series, nothing too deep or complex, but still interesting enough! ....unlike the fnaf storyline cause g o d how many restaurants wERE THEIR S C O T T -

But for real this is going long enough, so ima head out and do my own FNaF related things thay you don't need to worry about shush *commits arson*

HAPPY 10TH FNAF BIRTHDAY EVERYBODY!! >:DD

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Jim wrote Claire a love letter before fighting Draal -

No he did not.

That was not a fucking love letter. He didn't even confess his feelings to her; he confessed that there are monsters that he had to fight. She didn't interpret it as a love letter, nor did she realize the monsters were literal instead of metaphorical.

That was not a love letter. That was a final message to the survivor. That was a suicide note.

[aoitakumi8148]

𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝐻𝒶𝓈 𝐵𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝑅𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹, 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒮𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝐵𝑒 𝒯𝑜𝓇𝓃 𝒯𝑜 𝒮𝒽𝓇𝑒𝒹𝓈.

[immortalsins]

the speed with which my father can turn a discussion into an opportunity to shout should be studied tbh