#but one that not a lot of research has gone into

[papercutslut]

some more 30 year earlier au doodles! These detail the first couple weeks of the Apocalypse!

Details under the Cut!

Ford:

Due to stress from opening the portal + overworking, Ford spends the first couple days sick as a dog. Bill could of healed him instantly, but decided against it. He liked seeing Ford helpless.

Ford has no idea Weirdmageddon is even happening! Bill keeps Ford oblivious in the fearamid, as he tries to warm Ford up to the idea of becoming a henchmaniac.

Ford is so excited to properly publish his research, but Bill keeps changing the subject. Ford still excitingly rambles towards Bill though. Bill lets him keep his journals and he's burning through them.

Ford does know that Bill is all powerful, and some of the ideas he has is definitely tempting... Despite that, a little voice in the back of his head keeps him from accepting Bill's offers. For now, at least.

Stan:

The world has gone to shit. Most people are either dead, turned into stone, or forced to entertain Bill and his cronies in fucked up ways. Stan is actually one of the few people that didn't get captured immediately.

Stan's experiences being homeless actually helps him a lot. Not only does he know the best ways to scavenge for food, where to hide out for the night, and some basic survival skills; but he also has zero shame, and will fight dirty to get what he wants.

After Fiddleford erases Ford's memories, he flees back to California to escape his shame. Stanley manages to be in California when Weirdmageddon starts. They end up meeting, and become hesitant allies.

Stan is NOT having a good time. He thought he hit rock bottom, but apparently things CAN get worse! He's pretty bitter and angry about it.

[wigglermansblog]

Down to the Cybertron

Synopsis : Join Orion Pax and his friends unraveling the secrets of Cybertron and the Primes. But what lies beneath is better to be left undiscovered.

Prologue II >>

---------------

Prologue I

------------

"Hey! Get back here at once!"

Two guards are chasing after a blue and red bot, who is laughing to himself as he takes sharp turns in  order to escape the guards. He runs through the crowd causing the guards to lose sight of the cogless miner.

Orion Pax quickly gets onto the train that would lead him back to the mines, he grins to himself and pops a few energon cubes into his mouth.

"Easy peasy~" he grins as he leans on the wall.

What a day, he couldn't wait to tell D-16 about his research at the Archives. There's a lot of things he wants to talk about and there's might be a chance for them to find the Matrix of Leadership.

As soon the train reaches the mines, he steps out and goes straight to find his friend, D-16.

His optics spots D-16 pushing a cart full of energon, he grins and starts calling out to the bot. "Hey, D!" he calls out as the grey mech turns his helm and glares at the red blue bot "Orion, where were you?!" he hiss. "You've been missing for hours!".

"It's only like one hour! I was quick, don't worry" assure Orion.

"Quick?! You've missed half the day's shift! If anything happens, I ain't helping you with your workload!" D-16 says in exasperation, unloading the energon into the crate. He clearly dislikes his friend breaking the protocols. Always get himself in trouble and he won't be there to save him if gets himself caught by those guards.

"Oh—" Orion's optic widens in realization, he didn't know he was gone for THAT long. "Well, uhh...heh heh...I'll get to work then" the bot rubs the back of his neck. Guess he has to start his shift before Darkwing or Elita finds out he's been snitching work.

D-16 rolls his optics as he loads the last energon into the crate and he will be done for the day. It was tiring and his body felt sore, the workload has been increasing day by day. They barely get any rest, if they do, they only get a few minutes or so.

He closes the crate and watches it get taken away.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Is this all it?" Sentinel says in disbelief, holding a data pad in his hands. He slams the data pad on the table causing everything on the table to be knocked over. He received the news of the mining progression and it wasn't good at all.

Their energon source is depleting and it won't be enough for everyone, let alone... for THEM! The Quintesson.

He has to find a way.

"Argh! There has to be a way!" he vents angrily. His optics turn to Arachnid, "Ready the troops for another expedition, now" he said as the femme nods and exit the office. Once he is alone, he turns around and calls out.

"Zephyrstrike! You told me that everything is going smoothly!" he said, coming out from the shadows is a slim mech in copper and black pallets.

"My master, please. Be patient, my team and I are doing our best to find it" Zephyrstrike said in a calm and soothing tone. "Patience! Patience that's all you said—" Sentinel growls, stomping over to the shorter mech. "I will be doomed once the Quintesson finds out that I barely provide energon for them!" he said.

"I know, master but finding the Matrix isn't easy. SteelHazard is trying his best to locate it, he hasn't had enough sleep for the pass cycles...." the mech said. "Also— I bear good news, master. We have found a new mining area within the deepest caves of Cybertron. It will give us enough supplies for the next 3 moon cycles" Zephyrstrike assures the 'Prime'.

Sentinel quirk a brow at the news, a new mining area means more energon and more energon means more work for the cogless miners. The 'Prime' fixes his structure, "Very well, tell the mining operators about it and make sure everything goes well. Understand?" he said.

Zephyrstrike smiles and bows, "I understand, master" he said before disappearing into the shadows, back where he came from while Sentinel turns and leaves for another expedition.

.

.

.

"Listen up, all of you miners!" Darkwing's voice boom, causing all the miners to stop whatever they are doing. "The exploration team has discovered a new cave system. You know the drill! We call out your names, get your equipment and start digging!" he said. Some of the miners weren't so happy with the news they have received, another cave to mine and they have to work more than usual.

Their superiors start to call out each bots names and surprise that both Orion and D-16 were included.

Orion let out a groan, "Ugh, really? We barely finish with this cave and now we have another?" he said. "Come on, Orion. We are doing this for the good of Cybertron, for everyone and Sentinel Prime" D-16 said, picking up his mining equipment. "Yeah, I know" Orion smiles as he does the same. Both of them went to the station and were ready to be transported to the new cave.

"Hey, at least we get to see something new" D-16 smiles, nudging his friend. "Who knows if we will find the Matrix in that cave" he said. "Hm, you're right! But—I'm going to miss going to the Archives now" he pouts. "Well, at least now I don't have to cover your aft anymore" D-16 said.

"Are you sure about that?" Orion grins as they board the train as it takes them to the new mining section.

.

.

.

(End of Prologue I )

[sheep-from-rad]

Wild request: yandere self aware Kyler from dol

Self Aware! Kylar × Reader 

Note: I received this request a long time ago. I didn’t know what DOL was so I went to research, played the game (didn’t survive day 1), played again in godmode (with cheats and all stats up), and then read fanfics. Now I’m just invested with the lore. I didn’t expect such a game to have deep ass lore. ALSO I'm a firm believer that Kylar speaks in gacha because he's a massive weeb (the cringe kind).

Warnings: Yandere content (it’s Kylar), stalking, Kylar bad end route 

Disclaimer: I’m writing and reading yandere fics to cope with stalking trauma. Yanderes are not to romanticize, or romanticize it, you do you after all (I'm not your moral compass). I don’t own DOL, it belongs to Vrelnir. I only own my fanfics and English is not my first language. Please be understanding. Thank you! 

MINORS DNI

Complete Masterlist 

This town has always been weird. Be it the monsters that lurk in the woods, the monstrosity of the blood moon, or his parents hidden deep in the mansion. For a long time now, he considers himself a silent watcher. The kid who flies under the radar is only noticed by bullies. The one with an inkling of horrors due witnessed with open eyes laden with indifference. He didn’t care about it until that person came around. 

He thinks he knows a lot about the town already but he can’t really figure you out. He sat at the back of the English class watching your every move wondering what could probably be happening. He has to know because he’s your lover. You don’t know it yet but soon you will. 

He looked at his notes again. It wasn’t class notes. The day he writes down notes for class will be the day all monstrosity of the town is gone. Kylar rereads the almost unintelligible scrawl. Firstly, he knows your rent is currently at 4,000 but that Armoire cabinet looked really out of place. Your rent also went up and down a couple of times. It went from 4000 one day and then suddenly went down to 100. Your wardrobe is also filled with expensive clothing too which does not make sense because massage jobs, housekeeping, and cafe work don't pay much. Honestly, why do you even work when you can just hide away with him? He’s rich enough and he can provide for you. 

Classes passed as usual and his eyes can’t help but just follow you. His body getting up from his seat, getting to the usual spot in the park before going to the usual schedule of watching. You are his, do you know that? Someone had to keep his darling safe and who else can do that but him. 

Sometimes he will just follow you at a distance, he always makes sure to be at least a block away so he has a cover in case you see him. But sometimes you just disappear. You disappear without a trace like you just teleported out. Nothing about you makes sense as well. He remembers you being this clumsy little thing the first time he saw you and that was yesterday. Today you’re this formidable person. You’re very athletic, your skills are high up, and you’re immediately the best in Mason’s class. There goes his dream of being your protector…

Days turned to weeks and to months, he would watch you flirt with different men, well until that day came. He finally got you in his basement, tied up in rough ropes. It’s necessary since you don’t understand it yet. He doesn’t want you running away. He thought that you’ll be defiant, that you’ll be kicking and screaming and cursing at his face but to his utmost joy, you’re obedient. So obedient it’s almost suspicious. 

You’re eating the food he makes, admiring his knives, listens to his words and he thinks you love the baby names too. Kylar went home today from school, he thinks your relationship had progressed to good terms. However when he’s walking towards the basement to cut the ropes, he blinked and found himself in English class. WHAT IS GOING ON? WAS HE JUST DAYDREAMING? HE HAS YOU ON HIS VERY HAND AND IT’S ALL A DAYDREAM? AND IT WAS SO REALISTIC TOO! It’s like he got hit by a massive universal debuff! 

Kylar followed you after school. He’s gonna try it like how his ‘daydream’ happened. He followed you as you walked the lengths of Danube street to get to the orphanage but your words made him stop. “So that’s how Kylar’s one bad end route goes. At least not as bad as the farm route. Should I go for the corrupted Sydney route next?” He watched as you raised your hands to check the stats and checked the cheats, raising Sydney’s corruption stats and lowering his jealousy. 

Kylar knew from that moment that you’re not just a rare gacha drop. You’re the UR+ card and he needs to take control of that rarity soon.

[tiamatsan]

It's February when Damien gets his first fact. He's not sure when exactly it happened, only that it's after patrol when he first finds it. The words scrawled on the inside of his right wrist.

Damien is nine, but he'll be turning ten in August.

Even the annoyance in knowing that he is younger than his intended soulmate does nothing to diminish the warmth growing in his chest as he traces the childish words so newly formed on his skin.

I want to be an astronaut when I grow up!

Damien doesn't even realize he's smiling until Richard brings it up. A quick dagger thrown at Richard's head swiftly distracts everyone. Damien knows it's only a matter of time before the rest of his inquisitive family finds out, but until then this little piece of his soulmate is for him alone.

The following year finds Damien checking his wrist nearly every hour of the day. His actions do not go unnoticed by his family. Damien has been fielding probing questions and teasing remarks from his family for days.

So what Todd, if Damien developed an interest in graphology and spent a few hours copying his intended's handwriting into his good sketchbook? It's only practical that Damien start a file of everything he knows about his intended. Father has files about each of them and Drake kept photos about each of his soulmate's facts.

Obviously, Richard, getting Father to invest in cleaning up Gotham's pollution is mutually beneficial in keeping Poison Ivy from staging another Eco-raged induced terrorist attack, and helps improve the overall health of Gotham's citizen. It has nothing at all to do with the new observatory and space program being funded by the Wayne's Science and Tech grants that designed specifically to offer a wider range of scholarship programs for people across the country.

Drake, with the exception of Pennyworth, has been the most tolerable of Damien's family members in that he's the only one to not bother Damien about it yet. It doesn't mean that Damien hasn't notice how often Drake has been to the manor for the past few days, or the slight smile he tries to hide behind that monstrosity that Drake calls coffee that he never stops drinking.

Damien knows it's Drake's doing that somehow, on this particular day, none of the bats are doing their normal patrol. Instead, here they are in the manor having a "family dinner" that would normally have happened later in the month.

So there's nothing Damien can do when in the middle of reaching for a serving of roasted vegetables that the words on his wrist squirms.

Brown's over exaggerated gasp snaps the entire family focus onto him.

"What's it say Dami??"

"Yeah, is your soulmate a vegetarian like you are?"

"Psh, this is the Demon brat's soulmate. It probably says something like, "I like knives" knowing our luck."

"Oh hush, you boys are so unimaginative. I bet it says something like how Damien's soul mate is a prince!"

"How would that even make any sense? I bet it says something dumb like, "I like chocolate"."

"Father."

"Yes son?"

"We will need to adopt more dogs."

Damien can't help the warmth growing in his chest as he leaves the table. Mind already going over which shelter dogs were available for adoption as he absentmindedly ran his thumb over the new words on his wrist. It seems his soulmate had more in common with him than Damien thought.

I love dogs!

Learning from the mistakes from the past two years. Damien resolves himself to spending the day in his room. Pennyworth has been very accommodating and has been helping Damien turn down the increasingly obvious attempts by his family to get him to leave his room. It's only thanks to Pennyworth that Damien even has this little moment of peace.

Exactly as Damien had expected. He watched as the words on his wrist squirm. He felt the anticipate build as he wonder what he would learn this time.

Was his soulmate a vegetarian like he was? Did his soulmate have siblings? Was there a particular season that they liked best?

All of the facts that Damien had gotten so far hadn't help all that much in narrowing down who exactly his soulmate is. It was incredibly frustrating that the facts could cover something as small as what his soulmate's favorite color is. To something as important, like their name. As far as Damien could tell, no one had figured out why certain facts where shared over others. Whatever he got, Damien wasn't a trained detective for nothing. He would find his soulmate no matter what.

I hate Christmas.

.... Perhaps it would be wise to ask his equally trained detective family for help on this one.

By the time February rolls around this year, most of the family are too distracted by their own cases to really bother Damien about his soulmate. They still made it a point to ask about it, but they're not hovering like they did in the past.

Damien is glad for the change as the only people in the house is himself, Pennyworth, and Father. There's no need to hide away in his room, so Damien finds himself painting. He's been painting landscapes lately. The view of the manor's ground, as seen at night. So far away from the city, the sky above the manor is the clearest it gets in Gotham.

It's challenging, to keep his wrists clean while he mixes so many different shades of black. Damien's having trouble finding one with a cool enough tone that matches the way the moonlight reflects off the manor windows without making the painting as a whole feel gloomy.

When the words start squirming on Damien's wrist, he's calm as he sets if palette down. Damien's hoping that this time he gets something a little more helpful in tracking his soulmate down.

When the words settle Damien feels like the ground has dropped out from beneath his feet. It's only years of training that forces his feet to move. He's running for the study while his mind races. There are protocols that he's been forced to memorize, but none of them will help. Because, even though Damien had 4 years to find his soulmate, Damien still didn't even know what his soulmate's name even is. He doesn't even know if his soulmate is a boy or a girl. He doesn't know!

The elevator dings open and Damien all but sprints towards the bat computer. Father is there, not on active patrol due to a twisted ankle from a fight earlier that week. He's supposed to be resting, but it had been a fight to get him to even agree to sit and act as support to Oracle for the night.

It is only because Father had moved automatically to make space for Damien that Damien didn't shove him to the side.

"Father," Damien hates how his voice trembles. Hates how the words he wants to say gets stuck in his throat. He doesn't have time, so instead Damien simply raises his wrist and turns it so that Father can read the words easily. He watches as Father reads the words, watches as he pales, lips turning down even as his eye sharpens with a focus and intensity that impressed even the Demon head.

"Damien," Father sounds as grave as Damien feels.

"Help."

I'm going to die soon

Soulmate au where after you and your soulmate both turn 10, you get a fact about your soulmate somewhere on your body in their handwriting and most commonly used language (ie if someone primarily speak French, their fact could be ‘Ma couleur préférée est le violet.’, which could appear on their soulmate) Every year, a new fact takes the place of the first one, in updated handwriting, all written in black. When you meet your soulmate, the color changes to their eye color.

[romance-incubomp3]

aghhhh:(

[slut-lord]

i kinda want to write a deep dive essay on silence of the lambs WRT gender and transmisogyny bc it's actually a much more complicated topic than a lot of people realise

[widevibratobitch]

do i let feminism lose and spend all of my savings on a rhinoplasty or do i continue to just. live Like That lol

[yuribalisms]

On today’s episode of gender has suddenly become a nightmare I cannot escape nor stop thinking about: randomly deciding I want top surgery when in the past I was convinced I didn’t. Thanks, brain!!!!

[meluiloth]

Since the whole thing with NaNoWriMo has gone down, I've noticed that one of their former sponsors, Ellipsus, has cut contact with NaNoWriMo because they do not support their stance on AI; I didn't know what Ellipsus was, but upon further research I've found that they are a writing platform that works a lot like Google Docs and Microsoft Word, only with a heavier leaning on the story-writing aspect and connecting with other writers - and they also completely denounce any use of AI, both in the writing process itself and in the use of their platform. I really appreciate that.

Since this is the case (and since I've noticed Google has begun implementing more AI into their software), I've decided to give Ellipsus a try to see if it's a good alternative to Google Docs (my main writing platform). It's completely free and so far, I've found it simple to use (although it is pretty minimal in its features), and I really like the look of it.

I figured I'd spread the word about this platform in case any of you writers would want to give it a try, and if you do, let me know how you like it!

[universalsatan]

im reading up on breast cancer metastasis for a paper i need to write and my stupid hilson brain cant stop going “this is so wilson-coded” 🙄 shut UPPPPP

[saja-star]

I've had a hard time articulating to people just how fundamental spinning used to be in people's lives, and how eerie it is that it's vanished so entirely. It occurred to me today that it's a bit like if in the future all food was made by machine, and people forgot what farming and cooking were. Not just that they forgot how to do it; they had never heard of it.

When they use phrases like "spinning yarns" for telling stories or "heckling a performer" without understanding where they come from, I imagine a scene in the future where someone uses the phrase "stir the pot" to mean "cause a disagreement" and I say, did you know a pot used to be a container for heating food, and stirring was a way of combining different components of food together? "Wow, you're full of weird facts! How do you even know that?"

When I say I spin and people say "What, like you do exercise bikes? Is that a kind of dancing? What's drafting? What's a hackle?" it's like if I started talking about my cooking hobby and my friend asked "What's salt? Also, what's cooking?" Well, you see, there are a lot of stages to food preparation, starting with planting crops, and cooking is one of the later stages. Salt is a chemical used in cooking which mostly alters the flavor of the food but can also be used for other things, like drawing out moisture...

"Wow, that sounds so complicated. You must have done a lot of research. You're so good at cooking!" I'm really not. In the past, children started learning about cooking as early as age five ("Isn't that child labor?"), and many people cooked every day their whole lives ("Man, people worked so hard back then."). And that's just an average person, not to mention people called "chefs" who did it professionally. I go to the historic preservation center to use their stove once or twice a week, and I started learning a couple years ago. So what I know is less sophisticated than what some children could do back in the day.

"Can you make me a snickers bar?" No, that would be pretty hard. I just make sandwiches mostly. Sometimes I do scrambled eggs. "Oh, I would've thought a snickers bar would be way more basic than eggs. They seem so simple!"

Haven't you ever wondered where food comes from? I ask them. When you were a kid, did you ever pick apart the different colored bits in your food and wonder what it was made of? "No, I never really thought about it." Did you know rice balls are called that because they're made from part of a plant called rice? "Oh haha, that's so weird. I thought 'rice' was just an adjective for anything that was soft and white."

People always ask me why I took up spinning. Isn't it weird that there are things we take so much for granted that we don't even notice when they're gone? Isn't it strange that something which has been part of humanity all across the planet since the Neanderthals is being forgotten in our generation? Isn't it funny that when knowledge dies, it leaves behind a ghost, just like a person? Don't you want to commune with it?

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

so theres a lot of posts going round about the titanic wreck and the missing submarines; all of them that ive seen have made very good points about how shoddy the submersible seemed to be and how the company decided to wait eight hours before reporting it, and how this is a play stupid games, win stupid prizes for the ultra-wealthy who paid like 250grand a ticket for this thing.

but what i havent seen any posts about is how the titanic wreck is a gravesite and this tourism is disturbing the graves of over 1500 people.

sometimes its kinda hard to remember that those on the titanic were real people; it was over a century ago, the story has been romanticised in so many ways (like the movie), theres conspiracies theories galore that cloud everything with misinformation, but at the end of the day, those who died were real people.

do you want their names? heres a list of them; its a long read. and for fun, heres another site where you can see photos of the children and babies who died aboard.

their bodies are long gone and their lives long forgotten. all we have to remember them and honour them is the wreck itself. its all we have of them and it is their gravesite. its their tombstone.

caitlin doughty/ask a morticians video on the great lakes discusses the topic well, and why we should leave these shipwrecks alone because again, they are the gravesites of all the souls who died aboard those ships. we rarely have bodies to recover so we really are left just with the wreck.

and what really upsets me about titanic tourism is how the majority of those who died that night were not the ultra-wealthy rich folks you might picture when you think of ocean liners.

61% of the first class passengers survived

42% of the second class passengers survived

24% of the third class passengers survived

24% of the crew survived **

the majority of those who died that night were regular folk; not to be cliche, but they were just like us. titanics wreck is not only a gravesite for over 1500 people, its also a majority working class gravesite.

and look at us now. look at what were doing. the ultra-wealthy can pay the equivalent of peanuts to them to disturb a mass gravesite of the exact kind of people they exploit today to hold onto all their wealth. 

its easy to point and laugh at these dumb idiots in their playstation controller submarine, seemingly held together with super glue and duct tape, but its also important to remember that what they were doing was simply disturbing a gravesite for fun. though the company does research, these guys werent down there to conduct research, they were there so they could brag about it to their friends. its like “climbing mount everest” while your sherpa does all the work.

if you cant tell, i have a lot of feelings about this. shipwrecks and ocean liners are one of my special interests and im currently building a (beginner’s) model of the titanic, for fucks sake. but i would never go down to see that wreck because its a fucking gravesite and we should not be disturbing their final resting place.

[alexsays-no]

Day of the Dead (Dia De Los Muertos) is a two day holiday that reunites the living and dead. Families create ofrendas (Offerings) to honor their departed family members that have passed. These altars are decorated with bright yellow marigold flowers, photos of the departed, and the favorite foods and drinks of the one being honored. The offerings are believed to encourage visits from the land of the dead as the departed souls hear their prayers, smell their foods and join in the celebrations!

Day of the Dead is a rare holiday for celebrating death and life. It is unlike any holiday where mourning is exchanged for celebration.

Hi, it’s Alex now, so with this one I have to admit I did get really sad doing it, not just for the characters but for the meaning behind it, día de muertos is like my favorite tradition, at times when I was ashamed of being Mexican, día de muertos stood proud in my mind because it was something that was just here, something that Mexicans had, and it beautiful, and colorful and has so much love behind everything. But also I wanted to portrait how (at least me) we are willing to share with the world, I’ve seen a lot of TikTok’s of people of other countries saying that they love the altars and that they want to do one for their loved ones, but that they don’t know if it’s okay, and below there are so many messages of Mexicans inviting them to do the research and to put one. Is that sense of that’s the point of these days, to remember in a loving way the life of those who are gone, and share the sentiment with the world. Here is portrait with Sirius not knowing if he can put Reg’s photo, and James just smiles at him (he already had a place ready for him, he was just waiting to see if Sirius was okay with it). And with this, I invite any of you that want to try and make an altar, or research more about this, to do it, and to try. I think this day connects with all places in the world because we all have someone dear to us that passed away, even if it’s a lil pet.

[talaok]

Win Again

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x sex worker f!reader

Summary: Marcus has won yet another match, so to reward him, his master has granted him another hour with you.

warning: smut| unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), a whole lot of manhandling, he like uses your body idk how to explain it, multiple orgasms, and once again unnecessary feelings cause im not able to write something where they just fuck for some reason

a/n: i know im two days late but PLEASE read this still. (also) basic things for this guy that i've decided are canon: 1)he has a monster cock, like actually scarily big, 2) he's real fucking strong (hulk typa shit), 3) he's not a big talker (but he is a grunter). I need this man to fuck me more than i need my next breath (real), also i did so much research for this fic and you cant even fucking tell

It wasn't often that you didn't dread going to the barracks.

These were strong, ferocious, and dangerous men, and you were but a meek lamb in comparison.

But today was different, today you were seeing him, him who fit the previous description to a tee, and yet was so different from any man you had ever offered your services to.

And perhaps it was because it never felt like you were ever offering anything, ever since that first night, you had never given anything you hadn't wanted to.

The guards stopped as you arrived at his room and you felt a wave of excitement crawl up your spine the moment they opened the door, waiting for you to enter.

The armored men stepped aside to let you pass, the cobblestones on the ground sounding against your sandals as you made your way inside, looking back at the door just in time to see it being shut close.

It was his breathing you heard first, his heavy breathing coming from where you knew his bed sat on the room's left, and seconds after, the creaks of the wood as he stood up, his feet stalking your way.

You turned to him then, a smile almost making it to your lips as you saw him alive before you once again, granting yourself a second to relish in the fact he still breathed, he was still here.

"You've won again" you spoke softly, your hands slowly finding the string holding your dress together.

He didn't respond. The window behind him caused the moon's soft glow to fall on the stone floor, but not on his beautiful face, that, you had to watch closely to inspect.

A newer cut right above his left eyebrow had appeared, and his right arm was bandaged almost completely, but otherwise, he looked fine.

His eyes remained on yours until you'd undone the dress, until it fell at your feet- then, a low groan rumbled from his chest as he took you in, and took his turn inspecting every inch of your bare figure.

"How do you want m-"

You didn't have time to finish your sentence that he'd picked you up, effortlessly pulling your body up until your legs slung over his shoulders and his face was buried in your cunt.

He hadn't even given you a second to realize what was happening that his tongue was already lapping between your folds, desperately drinking everything your body gave him.

"Oh my g-" you threw your head back, your skull finding the wall behind you being the only reason you realized he'd moved, and you were now caged between him and stone as you forgot how to speak.

The moans you had faked so many times for so many clients were nothing like the ones your mouth was spilling now, these were higher, coarser, feral, and the way you were gripping his hair... there was no way that didn't hurt.

"Y-You only" a whine interrupted your words when you felt his tongue plunge into your hole, when he started fucking you with it just like he would with his cock "You only h-have me for an hour" you breathed, your thighs squeezing tighter around him contradicting the words you were about to speak "d-don't you want me to p-please you?"

His grip on your ass only tightened and his mouth halfheartedly parted from your core to answer you.

"You are"

And just like that, he'd gone back to work. The moment his mouth closed around your clit you knew you were done for, you knew there was no point in fighting what was inevitably going to come, and so you shut your eyes, as he brought you to heaven.

Your moans were getting higher and higher as your back arched to feed more of yourself to him, desperately craving the feel of his touch, of his nouse, of his beard against your thighs, of the lips he so devoutly was using to suck on your most sensitive spot.

"F-fuck- general I-" The fist you had wrapped around his hair tightened as every muscle in your belly did the same "Oh!"

Somehow, through all the chaos, while you were coming all over his face, while your moans reached levels never reached before, the only thing you could feel or hear, besides pure ecstasy of course, were his groans, his groans as he drank up every drop of your juices, as if your orgasm was bringing his as much pleasure as it was to you.

You barely had time to open your eyes that his strong, big hands and even stronger, bigger arms had pulled you down until your legs hugged his waist instead.

You really did weigh nothing for him, and if that wasn't enough to prove it, the next minutes definitely would.

Your heavy breathing was fanning over his mouth as he freed his cock from his pants, but while you were expecting him to kiss you, having been blatantly staring at your mouth since he had any way of seeing it, every thought in your brain turned to dust when with one hard fucking thrust, he drove his cock into you- or the first few inches at least.

You couldn't talk, you could do nothing but throw your head back as your eyes rolled to the back of it, and let him take whatever he wanted to take.

"I'm not a general anymore," he said with another thrust, stretching you out even further, even deeper.

You wanted to laugh at his words. Now? Now he was feeling the need to correct you? When you could barely breathe, let alone think?

But he didn't look interested in hearing a response from you, not when he grabbed your waist, and definitely not when he started moving you up and down on his shaft with just the sheer force of his muscles.

The moans, the lewd moans that crawled up your throat were filthy, even filthier than the sound of how wet, how unbelievably drenched you were as he plunged into you over and over, as he literally used you as a fucktoy, filling you up more and more, until he was finally sat inside you to the very hilt, until his pubic hairs were grazing your skin and the tip of his cock was touching your cervix.

"Oh my god" you whimpered, feeling tears prick your eyes as your toes curled at the feeling.

You could feel him everywhere, everywhere.

But he didn't pause, he wasn't one to take his time, and perhaps that was because he didn't have much; he resumed his movements again, retracting his hips while he pulled you up his cock, and slamming into you while pushing you down on it, leaving you breathless, a simple doll at his mercy.

His groans and growls were deep and filled with lust, just like the way he bent down to take your left tit into his mouth, just like the way he was fucking you, deep and hard, and God- God it was happening again.

"s-shit" you squeaked, your walls squeezing around him as you bit your lip, so fucked out you could barely remember your name or anything at all that wasn't how good he was making you feel.

"O-Oh my fuck-"

The arms you had intertwined behind his neck tightened with every spasm of your hole, with every flutter of your belly, until you'd come once more.

You opened your eyes, letting them trail downwards, to where his lips parted to suck in ragged breaths, begging him for a kiss.

"again" he said instead, and your eyes widened as you felt him starting to move anew

"I-I can't"

He looked at you now, really looked at you, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily, and then- then he kissed you. Marcus Acacius kissed you the same way he'd been fucking you for the last hour: like an animal.

It was a mess of teeth and tongues and yet it felt like the best thing on earth, better than wine, better than life, even better than the sex- it was perfect.

"again" he ordered once more, and what could you do, if not comply?

So he started again, he started fucking you again, even more ferociously than the previous time, even if you didn't think it possible.

The way his skin slapped with yours was drowned by both your desperate sounds, your legs started to tremble, beginning to fall from his hips as he moved you up and down his cock like it were nothing, and you- you didn't even know where you were anymore.

"please" you begged, a single tear of pleasure, of overstimulation falling to your cheek as he kissed you again, muting all your cries as he drove himself into you like a madman, like he was possessed.

"Time's up"

Two knocks sounded from the other side of the wall together with the warning, and you thanked Marcus for having rendered you such a mess because otherwise, that would have reminded you of how little time you two ever had, and how miserable everything really was.

His movements sped up at the notice, his dick plunging into you over and over and over until finally, it was happening again.

"give it to me" he said, and you did exactly as he asked- you gave it all to him, screaming and crying you let him have all you had to offer, feeling his eyes on you the whole time.

He came loudly just after you, groaning deeply as he filled you up to the very brim.

Out of all the words you could have said to him then, all the things you wanted to tell him at that moment, you chose none, because none would have said anything he didn't already know from the look in your eyes, from the same exact spark in your irises that ignited his own.

So he helped you to the ground until you stood on shaky legs, walked to where your dress lay on the floor, and dressed yourself again, his eyes never leaving you.

The door opened just as you were done, and you turned to him one last time again, a smile pulling at your lips.

"Win again for me, general"

He looked at you too for one last time again, as he thought about how you didn't know, you didn't know how big of a role you played in his victories, how many times he could only think of the taste of you, smell of you, feel and voice of you as he took his opponent's life, as he fought for another hour with you, another second.

"I will" he promised

[helloilikepurple]

DC X DP - DeAged

The Nasty Burger explosion took a lot from Danny.

Stopping Dan meant nothing when Danny lost everything. His friends, his parents, his sister, his teacher - all gone. Danny, desperate to not become Dan, fled. He would not let Vlad destroy the only thing he had left; himself. He didn't turn human again if he could avoid it. Let Danny Fenton die with his family.

He did what he could, trying to keep it all together. Avoid Vlad. Catch havoc-wreaking ghosts. Try to not have a panic attack every time he saw his reflection. FentonWorks became out-of-bounds. No one was sure how to turn off the portal or any of the house's defence mechanisms so it was taped up instead.

Danny kept the GIW away. They wanted his parents' research, even if they had to bend the law to get it. Danny would not let them have it. Never.

But the GIW was persistent and Danny weak from nearly two months of being Phantom and nothing else. He was so tired. Tired from grieving, from fighting, from wandering around, completely lost and alone.

The GIW got a lucky shot in. Danny went down. He woke up, still ghost, somewhere white. He'd trained himself not to have to turn back. He was grateful he did.

The GIW studied him. Danny did not have the energy to fight back. The will to survive. Curled up in his cell, bloody and becoming less human with every passing day, Clockwork finally intervened.

He could not let the future High King wither away into nothing.

With Nocturn's help, he whisked him away. His world was dying anyway. With no one to maintain the portal, it would soon overload and explode. The radiation would kill all life on Earth, leaving nothing behind, and taking with it the potential for new life. One world among infinite realities meant nothing. But Danny, as High King, is a singularity. A unique existence, only found in one reality. Clockwork, for the sake of everything that lives and dies, could not let Danny fade away.

Danny slept at the Far Frozen, dreaming of his family, his friends, and the stars he would one day rule over. He healed, wounds knitting together into scars and fractured core slowly, ever so slowly, repairing itself. A future Ancient, bound to protect all that is and will be, was bound to be very badly hurt from such a loss.

Clockwork only wished he could have done more, but to remove Danny too early would have spelt disaster worse than the deaths of billions. This boy would someday be someone he'd proudly call his grandson. Seeing that future alone was enough to make his own core ache for the young one.

The Infinite Realms wept for its child, still but a babe yet having suffered so much. It embraced its future King, blessing him with its loyalty and adoration. The ghosts of the realms, spread far and wide over distant realities, timelines and worlds, felt the loss too.

Danny healed, unaware of how loved and precious he was to so many - how far he was from alone. The dead's sudden quiet unsettled many. Enemies froze in the silent mourning, animosity forgotten. Raging wars came to abrupt ends. So many, unable to bear the ever-reaching, unidentifiable pain in the air killed themselves. Good, kind people cried alone.

Magic users, like Constantine and Zatanna, hid, waiting out the Infinite Realm's despair for its child. No one spoke of it, for fear of disrespecting the dimension between dimensions. But they hid, and they waited, and they couldn't help but worry for themselves and everything and everyone else.

Danny got a lot of visitors. Ancients, regular ghosts, crowded around his bed, gifting him blessings and support. Danny slept, he healed, and his world died, taking with it all he'd known. He wouldn't remember or know of any of this when he woke  - even the memories of his pleasant dreams will have left him. He'll awaken and think himself entirely alone.

But he'll know, someday.

Clockwork will make sure of it.

---

Danny doesn't know where he is or who he is.

He has a vague idea. His name. His life and his death. But so much is so distant, like impressions on sand, washed away by the ocean. He knows he should be bigger. He knows this isn't home. He knows there is no home anymore.

He knows there are people he misses, but he doesn't know who they are or where they've gone. He knows so little yet so much. White walls and orange hair, green (toxic, writhing green) and hazmat suits, white and black and orange and blue. Expensive, Packers-branded cologne, burning flesh, the scream of an alarm and laughter and fear and hope and love and pain and loss. Disjointed flashes, snippets of another life.

And this isn't familiar - this city and these people. These crowded, filthy streets aren't home, but there's no home anymore so of course they aren't. And maybe Danny should be afraid. He doesn't know where he is, or how he got here. There are people, so tall, walking around him not sparing him a glance. It's loud and smelly and so much to process all at once.

But Danny doesn't care because he's so tired, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep the day away. But he doesn't have a home, so obviously he doesn't have a bed either. He looks around for somewhere else to sleep, rubbing at his chest subconsciously as he does.

There, a building, on the other side of the road. The windows are tinted, but the doors open and Danny, through the crowds and passing traffic, catches a glimpse of what has to be a couch. Maybe the people that own the building will let him sleep on their couch for a little bit.

So he crosses the street, sticking close to the legs of some lady with skinny heels that go tap-tap-tap so the cars don't go because they can't see him. The lady turns to go a different way after but it's okay because Danny is in front of the building now.

He pushes the door open and slips inside. It's quieter inside, and warmer. Danny wasn't cold outside but in here there's a nice heat that makes him feel even sleepier. He looks around at the fancy chairs and potted plants and lights, and is happy to see there are couches. Long couches, with lots of pillows and space for him to spread out.

He walks up to the desk. He's too short to see over it, and it makes him kind of angry because he's sure he's supposed to be taller. But he figures maybe he remembers wrong because people don't just shrink. Except, he's a halfa so maybe ghosts do?

"Hello?"

There's a lady here too, behind the desk, but unlike the one he followed across the street she has short, curly hair. Danny wonders if she's wearing skinny heels too. Leaning his head back, he can see her look up, glance around, and then look back down.

Danny pouts. Did she not see him?

"Hello?"

He waves an arm this time, reaching as high as he can to catch her attention. She finally sees him, eyes widening in surprise. "Oh, sorry! Hello." She has a nice voice.

"Your voice is pretty."

She smiles, and Danny decides her smile is nice too. "Why thank you. You have a pretty voice too. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Can I please sleep on your couch? Just for a little bit."

"Of course you can. Would you like a blanket? I could fetch one for you from the staff room."

Danny shakes his head. "I'm okay. Thank you."

"Alright. But if you change your mind, do tell me."

"You're very nice."

"Thank you, but it's really no problem. Not much to do today anyway."

"You should sleep too then. Sleep is good."

She giggles. "That is a very good idea. I just might take your advice." Danny nods. He has lots of good ideas. "Okay. I'm gonna' go nap now. Bye-bye."

"Sleep well."

There are a few couches, and for a bit Danny's not sure which one to sleep on. He chooses the one with the most pillows. It's very comfy, and the pillows are nice too. He puts one under his head and hugs another, curling up around it. He falls asleep in seconds.

-

When a toddler with black and blue eyes asked to sleep on one of the couches on in the reception hall of Wayne enterprises, May had assumed he was one of Bruce's boys. He certainly fit the type Gotham's favourite playboy liked to adopt, and it wasn't unusual for his wards to show up out of the blue.

Once she found Tim Drake passed out on the floor under her desk. Apparently, he'd been hiding from Dick who was visiting from Blüdhaven and forgot to bring his coffee with him, consequently falling asleep while he waited for her to arrive so he could ask her to go pick some up for him. That had been an interesting Thursday morning. 

On another memorable occasion, Cass, Bruce's only official daughter, and her girlfriend Steph had shown up, said hi, went upstairs, then came back down after about an hour, giggling as they ran out with a wave goodbye. Not even ten minutes later, Bruce himself stumbled out of the elevator, absolutely covered in purple glitter. May remembers raising an eyebrow and asking if Bruce wanted her to have another suit brought in.

He'd ended up collapsing on one of the couches with an exhausted sigh, and said he'd have Alfred pick him up instead. He left a sparkly trail behind him when he walked, and the couch he sat on had to be replaced because, even after numerous cleaning attempts, no one could get the glitter out. He had glitter in his hair for months afterwards.

So, May hadn't bat an eye when the little boy came in. Well aware Bruce had several meetings scheduled that day, she sent him an email saying one of his kids was taking a nap in the reception hall and resolved to look out for the boy herself. Throughout the day, she made sure to check on him often, making sure no one picked him up ran (this was Gotham after all).

He slept soundly for most of her work day, barely shifting. She ended up putting a blanket on him herself during her lunch break and leaving him a water bottle and little snack for when he woke up. She also made sure security kept an eye on him whenever she left for whatever reason.

It was well into the afternoon when Bruce finally replied to her email and asked if his kid was still sleeping downstairs. She said yes, and not long after he arrived on the ground level. He walked up to her desk and asked if his kid had caused her any trouble. She smiled and assured him no.

Then Bruce asked where Tim was.

"Sorry? Tim isn't here today."

Bruce frowned, looking just as confused as she felt. "My apologies. You said one of my wards was asleep here. I assumed it was Tim."

"Oh! No, no, it's not Tim. Well, I don't actually know his name but the little guy has been here since this morning." She gestured to the toddler in question.

Bruce turned around, saw him, and frowned. "He's not one of mine."

"He's not?"

"No. Are you sure he's not an employee's child?" He kept his eyes on the boy, eyes narrowed in thought.

"Yes, I am. Only three employees brought in their children today, and all of them are ten or above. He can't be older than five." She frowned now too, turning to her computer to double check. "I'll send out a company-wide email to be sure. I should have done this sooner. I'm sorry, I was just so sure he was under your care."

"It's alright, May. I'm not upset. I'm just worried about him. When about in the morning did he get here?"

She glanced up, but Bruce was still looking at the sleeping boy. "A little after nine."

"And he's been sleeping all that time?"

"Yes, as far as I'm aware."

"Alright. Thank you for looking after him. I'll take it from here."

"Of course, sir. I'll reach out to you if anyone identifies him."

He nodded appreciatively and walked over to the boy. She watched, frustrated with herself. She's worked as one of Wayne Enterprise's receptionists for over four years. She should have known better than to just assume some random, black haired blue eyed child was Bruce's kid. She should have at least reached out to make sure that was the case.

She sighed as Bruce knelt down by the couch and gently shook the little boy awake, resting her head in the palm of her hand. This poor child. His poor parents. They must be worried sick.

She has to make this right.

---

[pastryfication]

oscar x reader who has a cochlear implant

sudden silence | oscar piastri

summary: your cochlear implant isn’t always your best friend, but when it fails you at the worst possible time, you feel panic like never before. note: i hope this is what you imagined!! i researched quite a lot to make it as accurate as possible but please correct me if i’ve written something inaccurate xx

everything was loud around you. the engines roaring to life again and again cut through the air and the crowds erupted in cheers whenever they caught sight of a car. the announcers were talking animatedly over the loudspeakers, their enthusiasm clear even if it was just free practice. and on top of all that, the general hustle and bustle also sounded in the background. the high-octane atmosphere was almost headache-inducing. everything was slowly becoming too much for you, the noise deafening, drowning out your thoughts, until suddenly, everything stopped.

suddenly, everything was completely quiet. not a single sound of oscar’s pit crew talking loudly. not a single tyre screeching on the track. just complete silence.

your hand immediately reached up to the small implant in your ear. don’t panic. you forced yourself to take a deep breath. glitches happen. just count to 10 and it should be working again.

1, 2, 3, 4 . . . you took a deep breath again . . . 8, 9 . . . 10 . . .

nothing happened. the silence lingered, the disorienting feeling wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. one of the engineers started shouting something and suddenly everyone was running around, but you couldn’t hear them. you couldn’t hear anything.

you could feel your heart beating away in your chest while your hands started to tremble, clamminess forming in your palms. you tried to steady your breathing again, tried to calm yourself, but everything was suddenly overwhelming. relax. you thought. you can fix it.

fingers fumbling, you reached for the implant, quickly checking the battery. it was still there. adjusting the settings didn’t work either, and it dawned on you like a comet from the sky. there was nothing you could do.

the panic gripped you from the inside and moved into occupying your entire body. hearing was crucial at the track. not just for communication but for safety as well. what if you missed an important announcement? or something critical happening on the track? what if oscar crashed and nobody could tell you?

the visual stimuli—the flashing lights, the cars zooming by, the people moving around you—became slowly overwhelming without the grounding presence of sound. the sensory overload only added to the panic already formed by your thoughts.

what were you supposed to do? alert some of the employees? no. you couldn’t disturb them from their job. find someone else to help? you mind did a quick once over of the people attending the grand prix, but no one who would be able to help you came to mind.

you were on your own.

୨୧

oscar immediately stressed when he exited the car after fp2, finding out that you were gone from the garage. and no one knew where you were.

you had left somewhere in the middle of the session without telling anyone.

it instantly worried him, and with a frown on his face, he made his way to his small drivers room.

you don’t hear him enter, but suddenly, his figure was standing in front of you, a frown on his face as he said something. you couldn’t hear it. it was as if he was miming the words, no sound escaping his mouth.

he must have noticed something in your facial expression, because suddenly, he stopped talking. his face morphed into an even deeper frown of concern, and his hand moved up to point at his right ear, his question evident in the unspoken.

you only nodded, looking down at your fingers instead of meeting his eyes. was he disappointed that you had left?

you didn’t get long to ponder, because he quickly took a step forward, his hand meeting shoulder first to alert you of his closeness before he pulled you into him, both arms wrapping tightly around your frame and squeezing you against his chest in a hug.

the two of you stayed there for a while, his hand rubbing your back gently as you sniffled slightly, trying to keep the pent up tears at bay.

someone must have knocked on the door, because you felt oscar chest vibrate as he lifted his head to shout something in reply, but he didn’t pull back from you.

there, in oscar’s embrace, with his arms shielding you from the outside world, his lips pressing reassuring kisses into your hair, you knew everything would be fine. you could call the audiologist in a moment, and everything would be fixed. but for a moment you actually enjoyed the silence, because you know that oscar won’t let anything happen. with him, you were completely safe, and as long as you had him, nothing could go completely wrong.