#dim 20 never stop blowing up

[theology101]

What Brennan Heard: “Oh, Dang wants to make sure no one died from the Nuke!”

What Jacob meant: “My kill count is gonna be so god damn high”

[cherry-bomble]

I'm doing another one of these because why not

please reblog for a larger sample size, especially if you haven't watched (all of) dimension 20!!

[marvisions]

The flirtation between Usha and Barsimmeon gets even funnier when you realize the concept of huge hunk Damian Bane having something with skinny nerd G13 is exactly the type of shit that makes fandoms go insane over here

[reverendlazarus]

guys I really can’t emphasize enough.

I. I cant emphasize enough. I cant.

[cherry-bomble]

good for her !!!!

Dope choice from Alex for dealing with the tension of the scene. There was a lot riding on Alex being the last possible chance of a nat 20 to save Barsimmeon and make Ify's move "worth it," in a way. But what has a for sure chance of creating an interesting outcome? Just fuckin downing the juice and running away.

[lemonmaid]

Alpha gojo x omega male reader

Theme is angest and fluff

Reader and gojo were high school sweet hearts and on thier final year reader got knocked up by gojo and on his way to tell gojo there was a misunderstanding which leds to them breaking up and reader taking the unborn kids (twins because why not) and after a few years gojo finds him with the kids and they reconnect after the misunderstanding was cleared up if that's alright with you

Also can you not make reader submissive and shy, I don't like it when omegas are like that

Wow! Most detailed request but coming up!!

Warnings: misunderstandings, mpreg, omegaverse, angst, rushed. Miscommunication

"Standing Next to you"

20■■

(Name) was on the train coming back from Kyoto.

To say there was a lot on his mind was an understatement was…undermining it.

'This fucking blows'. 

(Name) looked at the omega across from him sitting in the reserved seating for pregnant people, looking at his flat stomach he cringed. 

'You're like an alien…. A parasite'.

(Name) was only a few weeks along, has he been to a doctor? No. But he did spend all day in Kyoto praying for a sign to tell him what he should do.

He could he a responsible adult and tell his mate that he was pregnant but in his teenage mind that's something that was off the table or too far out of reach. 

He did want to tell Satoru but knowing the Gojo clan, they would want him to abort anyway. 

That's where (name) was conflicted, he didn't want a pup but it was his damn choice if he wanted to abort, why should he listen to a bunch of betas and alphas tell him what to do?.

"Next stop Nagoya" 

He still had four more hours to think.

(Name) arrived at his dorm pretty late, surprisingly, Satoru was there, fuming.

"Where were you?".

"Out?".

Satoru crossed his arms, "Out?".

"Yeah".

Satoru stared down (Name) who was trying to take off his shoes before he came inside the room.

"Where were you all day? You never answered your phone".

(Name) shrugged his shoulders, "It died".

"Really?"

"Yeah, I forgot to charge it". In reality, whenever (Name) saw Satoru's name pop up on his flip he felt like vomiting.

Satoru sighed, "I feel like as your mate I have a right to know-"

"I'm not going to talk to you when you treat me like this". (Name) rolled his eyes, throwing his keys onto the counter, and walking away.

Satoru followed the omega into their shared room, "Like what?"

"You're talking down at me. Treating me like a child".

"Well, you're acting like a child!"

"Me? I'm acting like a child?"

"Yes! You just go out and don't talk to me anymore! I was worried-"

(Name) closed and locked the bathroom door, staring into the toilet bowl, "Maybe because I am a child? So are you Satoru, are you forgetting that we are 3rd years? Haven't even-".

'I'm going to vomit'

"Stop! I'm not arguing with you! You need to tell me where you're going all day!". Satoru's voice was filled with worry, he sounded like he was genuinely hurt.

"I don't think I have to tell you anything!".

'I'm so sorry Satoru' 

There was silence between the two, The dim kitchen light glowed softly in the background.

"Maybe… we should take a break".

'It's for the best this way'

***

Shoko awkwardly rubbed the omega's back, as he vomited.

"There…. There"

(Name) gasped before dry heaving.

'This is worst'

Shoko lit a cigarette in the cheap apartment bathroom, "So… are you telling him? You know being with your mate will help with-".

"No".

(Name) was quick to move out of the dorm and drop out. It's been…a few long terrible weeks without Satoru; his mate, his better half, his everything.

Shoko sighed, "I would recommend a patch that you put on your mating mark to help with separation sickness but I'm pretty sure that will fuck up the pup".

(Name) laid against the cool wall, huffing and panting as sweat dropped from his forehead, ".... I will…go through the pain if it means staying away from Satoru… I will just-".

Shoko tossed him a water bottle, "I don't need your sob story, gosh, you sounded like Suguru when he was going through his separation sickness". Shoko sighed, putting out her cigarette and flushing it down the toilet.

Shoko pinched her nose, "Listen as a"

"You're not a doctor"

"Yet".

"Just… tell him. He would understand, he cares about you. And you damn well know it. Hell you two are mated, you're stuck together-".

Shoko looked at (name) with wide eyes.

"Please tell me you are hoping he just gets a mark removal surgery".

"I heard his clan would-"

"Fuck his clan are you fucking insane? Do you wanna drop? You'll kill your pups-"

"Fuck Shoko! I know! Fuck I know" (Name) cried, no sobbing.

"No, snap out of it! Do you think you can raise pups alone! Fuck in this shit hole? How can you raise them if you're fucking dropping!"

"Fucking! I know! I don't know what else to do Shoko! We are 17!! I don't want to burden anyone!! I can't!".

"You're not alone! Stop acting like it! Satoru fucking begs me to tell him where you are at! Stop pushing us away!".

(Name) sobbed into his knees, "I don't need saving. I can do this!".

"I'm getting Satoru".

Present

That was the last time anyone really saw (Name).

It's been two years.

Shoko didn't have the heart to tell Satoru that his missing mate was pregnant, hell she didn't need to see another one of her friends drop and die.

Satoru had eyes and noses everywhere looking for his mate, he didn't really give up.

Well, until today. 

Satoru's eyes went wide when he saw two white headed pups run up to him. Yapping away about the similarities between the three of them.

"My! My!!"

"Dammy!" 

The two twins grabbing his long legs.

Satoru felt a sob in his throat when he saw his long lost mate few feet away from him.

Oh how he glowed.

Oh how he aged.

He was still beautiful.

Why was he wearing a scent patch?

Why did he look unhappy to see him?

Why did Satoru's heart crushed?

(Name) called the twins names over to him. 

'Aoto and Shuto'

"My pups?" Satoru begged, he was pleading, his heart bleeding with sadness.

(Name) was obviously hesitant before nodding.

Satoru felt a sob exit his chest before crushing the three in a hug.

The four of them had dinner at Satoru's home, Satoru didn't want them out of his sight.

Satoru had the twins on both sides of his neck, letting them rest on his glands as he scent bonded them as they slept.

"Why did you keep this from me?".

"I was… scared of you turning me down so I wanted to speed up the progress".

"I would never turn this down…. (Name)... you're my mate… these were my pups".

"I know your clan-".

"I've.. disowned that, this is my clan…" gesturing towards the twins.

The two sat in silence.

Satoru sighed, "I want to make this work, but you need therapy, we need couples counseling… I still love you and I want to work this out".

(Name) nodded.

"I love you too".

[gothic-thoughts]

OFC I Don't Mind

Toji Fushiguro x Black Fem Reader Smut

MDNI, Roommate!AU, Friends2lovers, Drabble

CW: sending nudes to the wrong person (nightmare fuel), Toji has a job (😭), Toji intimidating you, some smashing at the end

Not proofread

Toji was still at work, typing on his computer when he was slightly startled by someone blowing up his phone, the ringtone repeating over and over in the quiet room. He rolls his eyes and stops typing, initially giving his fingers a break as he picks up his phone to see his lock screen now covered with messages from you, his roommates. They were all photos.

"The fuck…" Toji squints, typing in his password, "I swear to god if it's a bunch of memes…"

He opened the messages and his heart nearly stopped when he saw multiple mirror selfies of you in lingerie, then braless. His eyes were wide, unable to take his eyes off the screen, the only part of him moving was his thumb when his phone dimmed from lack of activity.

You: SHIT! You: FUSHIGURO DON'T LOOK AT THE LAST MESSGE You: *MESSAGE

He snaps out of his trance for a second to read the new message only for his eyes to roam back to the cluster of pictures in his inbox. His eyes look over every intricate design in the blue lace in the first pictures then to the dark brown areolas and smooth-looking skin of your tits in the next ones. A smirk slowly creeps across his face.

You: Im sorry they were meant for my fwb You: Ik ur mad his name is right next to yours on my phone and I clicked too fast. I'm so sorry You: Istg I didn't mean it Toji: Bullshit. You: Im being deadass,im sorry You: Just delete them

He takes a few seconds to read before a smirk creeps across his face.

Toji: I'll be there in 20. You: What, wait don’t hurt me! You: I said I was sorry. I swear it was an accident Toji: I said I’ll be back in 20 minutes. You: Bro relax! You: Just delete them and I swear it’ll never happen again Toji: Apologize in person. I will be there in twenty minutes.

Exactly 20 minutes later you hear the front door unlock and open from your bedroom upstairs, causing you to freeze in fear. His heavy footsteps climb the stairs. His footsteps sounded like thunder as they got louder and louder with him approaching your room. Finally, you heard him stop and knock on your bedroom door. You hold your breath. He waits outside the room for a few seconds and then you hear him knock again. You can hear his evil chuckle echoing throughout the hall. You take a breath and step closer to the locked door. “....Yeah?” "Open the door." “I feel like you gonna swing on me when I do so--” "Just. Open. The door." “Not if you gonna hurt me.” There's an angry sigh and he knocks on the door again. "You have ten seconds before I kick this fucking door in." “Toji, I told you it was an accident! You're doing a lot right now!” There was a short pause, as it became eerily quiet outside the door.

"Nine." “Wha- stop!” "Eight." “Fushiguro, you don't think this is an overreaction!?” "Seven." “Nigga!” "Six." “Alright, alright, fine!” You say unlocking the door before running back to the opposite side of your room. “It's open…” You hear his footsteps on the other side of the door as he walks in. He rolled up his sleeves as he made his way across the room, tossing his jacket onto your bed before he finally reached you with an exhausted sigh.

He sighs and reaches to hold your chin but instead, his thumb traces down your jawline and he tilts your head up to look into his eyes. His expression was no longer angry as he looked you up and down. You let out a shaky breath, finally breathing at the feeling of his surprisingly light touch. A few seconds pass as he stares at you, his thumb continuing to trace around the edge of your lips before finally he speaks. "I enjoyed ‘em a lot. Only thing pissin' me off is the fact they weren't for me." “Oh… oh…” "If you want to take away my anger, I have an idea of how you could do that." “You… you serious?”

He picks you up and tosses you onto your bed, the swiftness knocking the wind out of you before he even mounts you. You look up at him with wide eyes and lick your lips as he grips your wrists, pinning them about your head.

"You ask too many fuckin' questions. Now, lemme see those tits again."

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Half an hour later, you were both sweaty as ragged grunts filled your room. One hand had your fingers hooked into the messy bedsheets while the other held his shoulder as if he'd go somewhere. His hands were firmly planted into the mattress as he continued moving with jealously-driven fervor. Your phone suddenly rings, showing your fuck buddy's number on the screen.

Toji freezes at first, the movement stopping when hearing the phone. He stares down at you for a few seconds as he tries to process all of this as you hear your phone ring again and again. "Answer it." “What?” "Answer. It." You slowly pick up the phone. “H-ello?” Toji is still staring intently at you as he hears your friend on the phone. He lifts both of your legs to his shoulders and begins to move again, uncaring what your friend could hear. The friend laughs over the phone. “You with someone right now?” “Wh-what? N-no, I'm fine, just… in the shower.” “Oh yeah?” The friend chuckles, “That shower must be packing then." “F-uck you.” Toji smirks when he hears your friend laughing in the background before you hang up the phone. “Sh-shut up, you're… acting like you didn't decide to go as deep as possible, you bastard.” He laughs and lifts your body off the bed, holding you in his arms as he pushes you against the nearest wall. "That a complaint?" “No”

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(a/n): sorry if it felt rushed i literally noticed its been a week since I last posted 😅😅😅

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2024 No.18 & No. 20

Prompt 18: Survivor’s guilt (Alt)

Prompt 20: “It’s not your fault.”

Warnings: Mentions of canonical character death

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

There was no answer when you knocked, the silence as thick as the tension, making the door heavier and harder to open. The single candle had burned down to an oddly shaped sculpture, its curves and dips dimming the flame’s reach. The dinner tray you had brought earlier remained untouched, the soup cold and sandwich soggy.

Your heart ached just as much as it burned, scorched with rage that simmered just below your ribs. Daryl was on the edge of the mattress, staring blankly at the floor. It was as if he’d turned to stone, frozen within a nightmare. And you feared he had forever become trapped in a place you couldn’t reach.

“Daryl.” You tried, keeping your distance. He was a wounded animal, fearful and dangerous at the same time. He remained as he was. He had clung to you so tightly when he had clambered off the back of the bike, his legs giving and his tears flowing. It had been the only reaction you had seen from him in his day and a half back at Hilltop. “Daryl.”

You still didn’t approach, but finally he blinked, his bruised and bloodshot eyes sliding over to finally acknowledge you. The attention didn’t last. He was back to staring at the floor within seconds.

You risked two deliberate steps toward him before crouching, making yourself smaller in hope that it would not arouse the terror held at bay within him.

“You need to eat, sleep.”

Nothing.

Sighing, you slowly stood and stepped back before turning away, bending over the candle in preparation to blow it out, a new one beside it so as to keep the darkness away from your partner. The least you could do was stay, give him a measure of comfort that he wasn’t alone.

“Should’a been me.”

His voice was raspy, tired, and so unexpected that you gasped. When you spun to regard him, he hadn’t moved. “What?”

Daryl cleared his throat after an agonizing period of silence. “Was ready. Deserved it. Should’a been me.”

A flash of red, Glenn’s final words. Your lip quivered and your eyes closed as you gathered your bearings. “No.” You whispered, reassuming the earlier position a few feet from him. “Daryl, it’s not your fault.”

“Was. Is.” He muttered, a tear breaking free to cascade down his cheek. You wanted so badly to wipe it away and hold him.

“Negan was going to do what he was going to do. You had no influence over him.” You attempted, dropping to your knees and shuffling forward a few inches at a slow pace.

“F’I hadn’t—” The words dried up on the tip of his tongue, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Oh, Daryl.” You knew he would carry this forever, a guilt on his shoulders that he’d never shed. He still carried Beth after all this time. The weight had lessened, finally splintering off to allow you to carry a portion for him, a burden you were more than willing to bear for him. “You couldn’t stop him.”

His eyes slowly peeled open, wet and shining, and you could no longer stay away.

“Please.” You began. “Let me help you.” When his head turned, even with the heavy pain his expression bore, you had never been more relieved. No, that wasn’t true. The relief came when he nodded, a simple dip of his head that had you carefully climbing to your feet and approaching.

When your hand touched his shoulder, the dam broke. His hands found your waist and pulled you toward him, his face finding shelter against your stomach as his shoulders shook in silent sobs. Gentle fingers carded through his hair, hushed syllables making an effort to soak up even a portion of his suffering.

Each tear, each jerk of his body was gasoline on the inferno raging within you.

And Negan would burn.

[femme-from-hell]

🕷 Miguel O'Hara HCs 🕷

・❥・ So I'm finally hopping on this because I can't deny the feral need to write about this herculean man. These are just random thoughts with some 'x reader' sprinkled. ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ

・❥・ Rating: SFW

・❥・ Warnings: None <3

♡ Something in me tells me this man has an at-home gym. Like, I know there is a training facility at the spider-society HQ but Miguel has eyes sensitive to light exposure and lord knows this man doesn't want to be bombarded with the noises coming from who knows how many spider-people working out. He likes his peace and quiet in his home with the lights dimmed so he can focus.

♡ Bouncing off the above point, when Gabriella was little you bet your sweet bippy she would be around him while he worked out. Like, he would have a little plush kids yoga mat next to his while he did stretches for her, a tiny children's low pullup bar next to his so she can play safely. When she was a baby, he would do push ups with her below him and he would blow raspberries on her stomach to make her laugh every time he would go down. As a toddler, he would have her sit on his back while he did planks or hang onto his leg while he did pull ups.

♡ I feel like Miguel, despite his demeanor can be incredibly funny. Having said that, I feel like he tried to do a one liner once and a thug laughed at him. He beat the living shit out of the guy and never tried again, that's why he 'isn't funny' as Peter B. put it. When he's with his S/O, he'll lean over and whisper something funny of the foulest nature that is just so out of left field for him and NO ONE would believe you if you said it to anyone else.

♡ This man is so prone to pain, which would explain his ass being so grumpy 24/7. Migraines? His sensitive eye sight, heightened hearing, all of it is like pouring gasoline on a fire. Back pain? Carrying around a dump truck like that Crawling around with those claws, swinging that hulking mass of muscle he calls a body, all of it CAN NOT be easy on the back. He picked up Gabriella once and felt pain in his back, sending him spiraling into a break down going like 'I'm not that old, am I?'

♡ He dyes his hair because there is no way in hell he doesn't have grey hairs. Canonically, he's in his late 20s in the comics (Assuming early 30s in ATSV) so he nearly lost his shit the first time he found one. He never really thinks about mentioning it to you but one night you drop by because you just left something behind only to find him with one of those cheap plastic shower caps one with the fresh dye in and his heart nearly stops. He is so embarrassed but you comfort and reassure him with some loving.

♡ I mentioned above that I think Miguel is prone to back pain so if you offer to give him a backrub he will MELT. Absolute putty in your hands. This man just needs to have someone loving rub the tension from him, I stg. Little kisses on the back of his neck while you do it? He would be in fucking heaven. Absolutely would return the favor and with hands like his you know damn well how good it would be.

♡ Seeing all the posts about Miguel being a 'girl dad' is the cutest shit and I know in my soul it's 100% true. He would without a doubt go into work one day with sticky glitter gloss or a few nails painted after failing to get it all off somewhere on him. He let's her braid his hair and will always encourage whatever it is she's doing by getting involved in anyway he can because he just wants his little girl happy.

♡ I can't get the image out of my head of him sitting at a coffee place with Gabriella, justice brand body bag thrown over him with those butterfly clips in his hair while he sips coffee (Gabriella has one of those noncaffeinated sugary ass rainbow drinks at Starbucks, you know the ones) while she babbles on about elementary school drama and he is invested, nodding along. They have the cutest daddy/daughter dates.

I'm pretty happy with this little mess of ideas. I'll probably make a more concrete/ organized post collection of my ideas, like one for Miguel as a dad, some 'x reader', and definitely some NSFW. Lmk what you guys think, I love to hear from everyone or submit a request! ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

[fanficsfreeideas]

alastorshippermonth day 20 detective and killer -ship Adam/Alastor

The city had always been a labyrinth of shadows and secrets, but Detective Adam Dickmaster never imagined one of those secrets lay so close to home. He’d spent years on the force, unraveling some of the darkest crimes imaginable, yet he’d always felt a certain reassurance waiting for him each night—a warm meal, a shared smile, and the embrace of his husband, Alastor.

Alastor, with his enigmatic charm, quick wit, and seemingly boundless affection, had been Adam’s grounding force, a rare glimmer of light in an otherwise dreary life. Their marriage was the one thing Adam was certain of, a steady haven in a world he was accustomed to doubting.

But that certainty cracked when Adam was assigned to a string of grisly murders plaguing the city. The killings were disturbingly meticulous, marked by chillingly precise rituals that hinted at a calculated, intelligent mind. The victims had no apparent connections, yet Adam’s instincts told him that there was a pattern—a purpose behind the killer’s actions.

His nights became consumed by case files and crime scenes, the weight of responsibility bearing down on him. But Alastor had always been there, providing comfort in his way, cooking Adam’s favorite meals, offering quiet reassurances, even giving him shoulder rubs when the stress became too much.

But as the investigation continued, something about Alastor began to feel… off. The small, almost unnoticeable absences, the late nights spent “working” on his own projects, and the way he sometimes brushed off Adam’s questions about his day. Adam told himself it was just paranoia. It had to be. Alastor was his husband. He would never—

Then, one night, everything changed.

It was nearly midnight, and Adam was running on fumes as he traced yet another lead through the backstreets. He rounded a corner, following a tip from an informant, only to find himself facing a shadowed figure crouched over what looked like another victim.

His heart stopped as the figure turned, illuminated by the dim light spilling from a nearby streetlamp. And Adam’s world shattered.

“Alastor?”

Alastor froze, his eyes wide with surprise that quickly gave way to something colder—calculating, almost as if he were assessing the best course of action to take. Then his expression softened, something wounded flickering in his gaze as he straightened up, hands slowly raised as if surrendering.

Adam’s gun shook in his hand, and he could barely find his voice. “Alastor, what… what are you doing here?” He knew the answer, but his mind fought it with every fiber of his being.

Alastor’s lips quirked into a small, almost resigned smile. “I suppose there’s no use hiding it now, is there?” His voice was steady, as if he were simply explaining a minor misstep. “You’re looking at your killer, my dear detective.”

The words struck like a blow to Adam’s chest. His hands trembled, gun still aimed but somehow feeling impossibly heavy. His husband—the man he’d shared his life with, who’d woven himself into every part of his heart—was the killer he’d been hunting. The monster haunting his nightmares.

And yet, in that moment, Adam’s protective instincts surged. He couldn’t bring himself to see Alastor as anything less than his husband, the man he loved. The pain in Alastor’s eyes told a story of its own, something deeper than the horror that had played out on the streets.

“Why, Alastor?” Adam’s voice cracked, full of hurt and betrayal. “You could have… you could have told me.”

Alastor’s smile faltered, and he took a careful step forward, his gaze uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I never wanted you to know. I never wanted this,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. “But I couldn’t stop. I tried—I really did. You were my escape from all of this darkness, Adam.” He paused, searching Adam’s face as if to etch his features into memory. “And yet here we are.”

The weight of the gun in Adam’s hand felt unbearable. He couldn’t bear to pull the trigger, even as every instinct in him screamed that he should. Instead, he lowered the weapon, taking a shaky breath. He couldn’t send Alastor away—not yet, not until he understood. He wanted to hear Alastor’s story, to somehow make sense of this twisted reality.

“We’re going home,” Adam said, voice laced with quiet determination. “You’re going to tell me everything.”

Alastor’s face softened, his mouth opening slightly in surprise. But he nodded, his expression a strange blend of relief and apprehension, as if he, too, wasn’t entirely sure what this meant for them.

They made their way back in silence, Alastor slipping into the role of his calm, familiar self, but Adam could see the tension lurking beneath his composed facade. When they entered their shared home, Adam shut the door quietly, then turned to face him, crossing his arms as if bracing himself.

“Start talking, Alastor,” he demanded, his voice thick with the hurt that had been simmering beneath the surface.

Alastor hesitated, running a hand through his hair as he looked away, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. “It’s… not something you would understand, Adam,” he murmured, though there was an edge of despair in his voice. “I never wanted you to see this side of me. I thought I could… keep you safe from it. From me.”

Adam’s heart twisted. The man before him, his husband—the same man he’d built his life with—was somehow both familiar and a stranger. “I don’t care,” he whispered. “You’re still… you’re still my husband. We can figure this out.”

Alastor met his gaze, a flicker of hope sparking in his eyes, though he still seemed wary. “You… would do that?” he asked softly. “Knowing what I am?”

Adam’s voice broke. “I don’t know if I’ll ever understand why you did it, Alastor. But I know who you are to me. I’ve seen you at your best, and I’ll stand by you, even now. But… no more lies. If you love me, tell me everything. Trust me with this.”

A moment of silence stretched between them, and then, finally, Alastor nodded, stepping closer, his voice barely a whisper. “I will. I’ll tell you everything.”

As the night wore on, Alastor spoke of his past, of the urges he could never shake, of a darkness he’d long tried to hide, even from himself. Adam listened, his heart aching with every word, but he held Alastor’s hand, determined not to let go.

In that moment, in the quiet of their small home, Adam found himself not as a detective but as a husband, as a partner. No matter the darkness that surrounded them, he would be Alastor’s light—the one thing that kept them both grounded.

He couldn’t turn him in.

The city, the force, even his own conscience would demand justice. It was Adam's sworn duty to uphold the law, to protect the people from monsters like the one Alastor had revealed himself to be. But as he looked at his husband, he didn’t see a monster. He saw a broken man, a soul fractured by years of hiding, someone who had clung to Adam like a lifeline, trying, in his way, to become something better.

When Alastor finished, silence filled the room. His gaze dropped to his hands, shame etched into every line of his face. Adam didn’t speak, his mind racing to make sense of the impossible choice before him.

After what felt like an eternity, Alastor whispered, “If… if you turn me in, Adam, I’ll understand.” He looked up, his eyes hollow but strangely resigned. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I don’t deserve any of this. I only wanted to keep this from you because I… I love you. You were the one thing—” His voice broke, and he swallowed hard, struggling to regain control. “You were the one good thing in my life.”

Adam reached out, fingers trembling as he took Alastor’s hand in his own. “I don’t think I can,” he said, voice rough, barely audible. “I can’t turn you in. I can’t lose you. You’re… you’re all I have, too.”

Alastor looked up, shock flashing in his eyes as if he hadn’t expected Adam’s answer. He searched Adam’s face, disbelief warring with something that looked almost like relief. “Adam… you would really…?”

“I would,” Adam murmured, squeezing his hand tightly. “But you have to promise me—no more of this. No more secrets, no more… killings. This has to stop. If you love me, you’ll let this part of you go.”

Alastor’s eyes softened, and he took a shaky breath, nodding. “For you, Adam… I’ll try.” His voice was barely a whisper, but the sincerity in his gaze was undeniable. “I’ll give up everything if it means I can stay by your side.”

Adam wrapped his arms around Alastor, pulling him close, feeling the warmth of his husband against him, their hearts beating in sync. He knew it wouldn’t be easy—knew he’d have to bury the guilt, the knowledge of what his husband had done. But in that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to let go. He would bear the weight of Alastor’s darkness, if it meant keeping the man he loved.

They stayed like that for a long time, the two of them holding each other in the quiet of their small home, knowing that they would have to live with the ghosts of their choices. But they were together. And, for Adam, that was enough.

[theology101]

Just normal J-Kwon

Like, not J-Kwon in someone’s body

Not someone in J-Kwon

Not even J-Kwon ending up in the body of a character played by J-Kwon

Its just J-Kwon, as normal J-Kwon, in Actionland.

That sounds like a god damn horror show, just being a normal American in this reality

Stay safe, King

[cherry-bomble]

me trying to pay attention to the extensive lore the DM drops after 11pm:

[courtneyb22]

Hippogriff in the Corridor

I'm excited to reveal the first of my short stories based on mine and Siobhan's Hogwarts Legacy characters. In collaboration with @wrongcog

Written by me, Art by Siobhan.

Standard disclaimer, all characters belong to their rightful owners.

It's late and the corridors of Hogwarts are barely illuminated by the occasional torch, stretching the shadows into flickering dark monsters, they seem to dance along the floor. The only sound is the footsteps created by Siobhan creeping on the stone beneath her. Her florescent green hair glowing, in hindsight she should have worn a head scarf of something to disguise her appearance, it's way past curfew if she's caught out of bed, she'll surely face detention, and not to mention the other thing.

In hushed tones she speaks "Come on. Come on, we're nearly there just a bit further ... Stop pulling and walk please" She's hunched over to be as stealthy as can be, her stature only slight to begin with and in her hands she tugs an invisible tether behind her.

Up ahead she hears speeding footsteps heading her way, panic rises in her chest. She's in a straight corridor save the bend in front of her where the source of the noise is coming from, there's no where to hide. Siobhan flicks her head all around to find something, anything to hide herself behind. The way she came too far away, she'll be caught before she makes it back, especially with her companion.

Accepting her fate, detention or worse depending on who rounds that corner and carries on walking straight. She blows out a sigh, her mind racing what excuse could she possibly have to be out at this hour that a professor would accept. The footsteps ever closer, she's seconds away from being caught but then a tall figure with a full head of red hair appears, Gryffindor red cloak and even in the dimmed lighting she can see his freckled face. Garreth Weasley. The pair stop dead in their tracks to face each other. "Oh Siobhan, it's just you. Thank goodness! I thought I could hear Moon creeping about, Wait what are you doing?"

"Hi Garreth" she quipped excitedly "Oh you know this and that, funny enough I needed to speak to you"

"I'm in a bit of a rush, can we talk later?" She took him in properly now his arms full of biscuits and pies, he'd obviously just raided the kitchen for snacks. Nodding her head towards his arms she spoke "Nice! I'll be quick, I just wanted to know how long the invisibility potion you made me would last?"

"Oh, erm someone your size, couple of hours easy"

"Cool, Cool.. Wait... My size! You never mentioned size!" her voice an octave higher

"Keep your voice down!" he hissed "why, what's the problem? What size is the person you're making invisible?"

Siobhan looked to the ground kicking an non-existent pebble "oh like maybe five, six times my size?" She glanced up at his face, his brows furrowed darkening his green eyes as he glared at her "You'd get 20 minutes, tops. What are you doing Shiv?"

Shit! There was a whoosh of magic and from behind her a warm huff of air rushed past her ear, Garreth's face dropped into that of terror, she turned to see and confirm what she already knew, the potion had worn off and there was now a fully visible snowy white Hippogriff stood behind her the rope around it's neck still in her hands.

Returning to look at Garreth her face beaming with delight, he was bent over at the waist to show the hippogriff respect, tumbling his haul of biscuits to the ground.

Siobhan was very pleased with herself "Look Garreth I found a new pet, His name is Snow-Wings".

[reverendlazarus]

estrogen will fix her

[keycarabiner]

Hi! I'm Em. I write fanfiction for fun over on AO3!

♡ Nonbinary lesbian (they/them pronouns)

♡ 20s

♡ Hobby writer

♡ Currently writing stranger things fic (mostly steddie)

My inbox will always be open for any comments, questions, and requests.

Thanks for stopping by! ♡

Masterlist of fanfictions below the cut, sorted chronologically from most recent update:

AO3: mourningshowers

storge (G | 4.1k | 1/1 | part one of forms of love)

Steve Harrington is claimed by his mother the same night he arrives at camp. And it happens in the middle of the campfire sing-a-long, go fucking figure. 

Storge, or familial love, refers to natural or instinctual affection, such as the love of a parent towards offspring and vice versa.

carry me home (T | 10k | 1/3)

“I missed you,” he says honestly, the words muffled into Eddie’s skin, and something within him just— Clicks into place. Eddie doesn’t waste a second in climbing up onto the bed to hold Steve, too, his hands stroking up and down his back. Steve continues to murmur, “Even though back then, I didn’t really know you—I missed you so much when you were gone.” “Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Eddie says, and he draws back if only to run his hands through Steve’s hair softly, pushing the strands back just to lay soft lips at his temple. It feels like love, so it must be. Love. He needs it. So much he’s dizzy with it. He leans into the touch. Eddie smiles against his skin. “I never left.” Steve Harrington wakes up in a world where he is loved. It's not real.

any way the wind blows (M | 34.9k | 5/15)

Steve's mind is carefully blank. It has been from the moment his father walked him to one of the castle’s balconies, the one that oversaw his home kingdom in its entirety, and said the word betrothal.  He had suppressed every single thing, every emotion and feeling and conviction that had risen inside of him that very moment, and has continued to suppress them, and he will continue well after he is officially wed tonight—most likely until he takes his final breath. He had known for a while now that this would be his fate. He wishes knowing had made it any easier. From childhood, Prince Stephen of the Northlands has been a disappointment. When his parents forged a new alliance with the Southlands, he did not expect his own hand to factor into the treaty. Yet on the dawn of his twentieth birthday he finds himself being carted off to the capital of the Southlands to marry their infamous bloody-handed warrior, Prince Kas. Prince Kas’ reputation precedes him. But upon his arrival Steve quickly realizes that the Southlands aren’t all that they seem to be, and neither is his betrothed.

silver fox (G | 2.3k | 1/1)

Steve stops short. He meets Eddie’s eyes in the water-stained mirror, then his own. A beat passes. Before he knows it he’s crowding up way too close to his own reflection, pulling at his scalp this way and that and sure enough— There are a few hairs that glint silver in the dim bathroom light. “What,” he says again, as he feels his world slowly begin to implode around him. Grey hairs at twenty-one years old, he despairs silently. At this rate he will be almost entirely grey at age thirty, probably. “Kinda super sexy of you,” Eddie is saying, manhandling him a bit out of the way so that he can spit and rinse. “Silver fox Stevie. Ha.”

only i remain (your friend, eddie) (T | 9.5k | 1/1)

Dustin, I’m awake now. Finally. And I’m alive.

Dustin, Weird things are happening. Guess that’s just par for the course in Hawkins though, so I can’t say I’m all that surprised.

Dustin, This is the last letter I’ll be able to write.

hunter's moon (T | 17k | 2/2 | part one of moonstruck)

“What about your pack?” Steve asks, because, well— Werewolves are social creatures. Humans may not be right about the specific dynamics, the leaders and the runts and pack structures, but they got the general idea right. The idea that wolves have a distinct need for life, to be surrounded by it, sustained by it. There is no point in running beneath the glow of a full moon without people you trust. People who understand what it's like. “Don’t have one,” Eddie replies stiffly. “Don’t need one. I have my uncle. And my friends. Even though they’re human, they help with the whole socialization thing.” He’s a lone wolf, Steve realizes. That’s the smell that rolls off of Eddie Munson in irrepressible waves: it’s loneliness.

convalescence (M | 23.3k | 2/3)

Eddie met Steve the year he turned twenty, in a kitchen with peeling yellow wallpaper. Further down the line, he'll remember thinking that the wallpaper was dull in comparison to the glowingly beautiful boy stood at the stove. Even if the boy had the saddest eyes Eddie had ever seen, a deep brown and frosted over like the earth in January. You can be sad and beautiful, Eddie reasoned: wilted roses do not stop being lovely just because they’re looking down instead of up. Or, it’s winter and Steve is stolen.

baby love (G | 2k | 1/1)

Eddie looks better than he has in a long while. His hair is a little shorter and curlier than it was back in March and he’s wearing a short-sleeve Night of the Living Dead t-shirt, proudly displaying the healed, jagged scars that crawl up his arms and neck. His eyes are bright, his mouth fast, his posture relaxed, and he’s— He’s holding a baby. It’s shocking how quickly Steve’s mind goes hysterically loud one moment and then carefully blank the next.

stay safe (T | 4.3k | 1/1 | part 3 of first meetings)

“My name isn’t Junior,” Junior cuts in, like that’s the thing he should be concerned about, not the fact that Steve was calling out his perceived shitty relationship with his father. “Yeah, no shit,” Steve says. “But I don’t know your real name and Hopper calls you Junior, so.” “I’m Eddie. Eddie Munson. I’ve been in your pre-calc class all semester. And gym, but I never go.” “Oh,” Steve says. He recognizes the name, has heard it before, murmured in the halls of Hawkins High or on the back patio during a house party. He’d never been able to put a face to it. Never really cared to. It’s funny how quickly things like that can change. 

brighter in the dark (T | 13.9k | 1/1)

Eddie thinks that he’s probably judged Steve too quickly. He thinks Steve’s probably full of surprises, if the past two years are anything to go by. And then, of course, Steve just has to prove him right by stepping out of his BMW in a full sailor suit fantasy that not even the most depraved recesses of Eddie’s mind could have cooked up. Jesus. He’s got the little hat and everything. Cute tiny shorts, too, that are regrettably not as short as the ones included in the Hawkins High gym uniform, but still short enough for Eddie to be able to appreciate Steve’s legs. He has nice legs. Good knees. White socks pulled halfway up his calves, for some reason, stark against his golden tan skin. Wispy little hairs that probably go up his thighs. Eddie needs to stop looking at his legs. “Eddie Munson,” Steve calls as he approaches, his voice all easy and light like they’re actually friends. “Hi.” Eddie blinks at him. Because Eddie's life can never be normal, the summer of '85 finds him working a firework stand just outside of Starcourt Mall, catching up on school work, and tutoring Steve Harrington in all things D&D.

let the light in (M | 19.4k | 1/1)

Eddie’s blood sings out for him in a way that is distinctly not-human, and that’s really the final nail in the coffin. The proverbial one, at least. He’s not so sure what happened to the real one. “What did you do?” Eddie asks, when the horror fully sets in and takes over and the dread crawls up from his chest to claw at his throat and choke. He asks, desperately, “Steve, what did you do?” “What I had to,” Steve answers, and Eddie breathes out with decayed lungs, coughs up some more soil, and weeps. Eddie wakes up.

moonbeam (T | 6.1k | 1/1 | part 2 of first meetings)

Eddie hums. “We’ll figure something out,” he tells Steve, like they’re friends or something. Like they’ll see each other somewhere after this and won’t just let their eyes skip over one another’s faces—like they’ll actually call out to one another, sit down, catch up. Steve knows better. Knows their tentative alliance doesn’t exist outside of this mediocre 24-hour diner, at nearly midnight a few days after the Fourth of July. They both know it, Eddie’s just pretending not to. Strangely enough, it doesn’t stop Steve from saying, “Sure.”

in my life (T | 9.5k | 1/1)

Eddie will say goodbye to Dustin and Mike at the same time then move on to the rest. Two birds, one stone. And then he’ll be off. Easy peasy. Except it isn’t, because when has Eddie’s life ever been easy? He drives over to the Wheeler’s place down Maple Street, parks at the curb in front of the house. Stumbles up the front steps and raps on the door a bit. Is so lost in preparing his last-minute improvised goodbye speech that he doesn’t register the fact that Mike Wheeler isn’t the one answering the door until, well— “Eddie?” Steve asks, eyebrows furrowing. Eddie gapes at him stupidly. Eddie is leaving. Steve is doing his damnedest to get him to stay. Also, Holly Wheeler is a fairy princess.

you win some, you lose some (G | 2.3k | 1/1 | part 1 of first meetings)

Eddie hums. His eyes are blazing with something Steve can't really put a name to. “What were you and Hargrove fighting over?” “None of your business.” “Title of Best Car in the Hawkins High senior parking lot? Captaincy for the game in which you throw balls into laundry baskets?” He pauses, leans forward and grins wickedly. “A girl?”

chimera (T | 5.5k | 1/1 | part 1 of transmutation)

“Friend,” the demogorgon repeats. It reaches a hand up. Long and thin and veiny. Distinctly not human. Black beneath the clawed nail. The tip of its finger comes closer and Steve stops breathing right up until it gently brushes the denim of Steve’s vest. Not Steve’s vest. Eddie’s vest. Steve looks down. Jammed onto the finger is a chunky silver ring in the shape of a tombstone.

fixer-upper (T | 20.5k | 3/3 | part 2 of love letters verse)

Steve wakes up the morning of their two-month We-Finally-Got-Our-Shit-Together anniversary to find Eddie staring at him, crouched over at the foot of the bed with his round unblinking eyes like a fucking gargoyle. It should be creepy. Steve is used to this, though, so now it’s just kind of a thing that Eddie does. “What,” Steve says groggily, wiping the drool from his mouth. “Nothing, angel, go back to sleep,” Eddie trills. Or, two months after Steve and Eddie officially get together, Steve finds himself thinking about home, his heart, and how to let go.

you all the way down (T | 6.7k | 1/1)

Steve steels himself, grips his bat tight, and whips open the door. Instead of the kids, or Wayne, or any of the remaining basketball meatheads that have made Eddie’s life a living hell since the spring, a girl is standing on the stoop. She looks about Steve’s age, maybe a couple of years older. She’s short. Petite. She has freckles all over her round face, kind of like Robin does, with the same hair length, although hers is dark and straight with a chic cut to it. She’s wearing all black, ripped jeans and big heeled boots and an oversized denim jacket. Her dark eyes are ringed with smudged eyeliner and look wide, almost frantic; her hand is poised just above the door, and the dozens of thin silver rings on her fingers glint in the early morning sunlight. “Oh,” she says, her voice all airy like she’d run out of breath. “Oh, sorry. I… I must have the wrong place.”

in the meantime (T | 13.3k | 1/1)

Now that Eddie’s officially retired, him and Steve are engaged and they live in a huge house together in a state where apparently, it is currently at least a little bit legal for two people of the same gender to adopt or foster children together. They have a family; not some ragtag mishmash of people bonded by the trauma of surviving multiple apocalypses together, but an actual family. Two parents, a slew of children, and a home. The mismatched decor of the house suddenly makes a lot more sense, the pastel yellow color of the walls in the family room clashing horribly with the stuffed crow and plastic skull on the mantelpiece. It’s so them it hurts. Mike and El went off the grid for a number of years following the death of Henry Creel. Except it seems as though nothing is truly dead and gone, because the Upside-Down reawakens more than ten years later for reasons unknown. They soon find themselves calling everyone to come back to Hawkins and stop the end of the world from happening yet again. Some people have moved on, though.

two-headed calf; twice as many stars (T | 3.6k | 1/1)

The music has stopped. Eddie mutters something about a quick smoke break and slips out the front door, wood planks creaking and settling in his wake. The old guitar is abandoned against the wall. And who would Steve be, if he didn’t follow?

follow the sun (T | 11.1k | 1/1)

Eddie walks into a Michaels Arts and Crafts Store at 4PM on a Sunday stoned out of his goddamn mind and is immediately accosted by the image of Steve Harrington crouched over in the yarn aisle, wearing glasses and an apron over what can only be described as a grandpa sweater.

love letters in your lunch (T | 20.2k | 4/4 | part 1 of love letters verse)

Rumor has it that whenever any one of the seven or so gremlins that Steve has magnanimously decided to adopt sleep over at his ridiculously large and empty house, he’ll get up extra early in the morning and pack them all lunches in brown paper bags. He’ll make them breakfast, too, and drop them off at school with a ruffle of their hair, a slap on their shoulder, or a pep-talk, depending on the kid. Not that Eddie Munson, of all people, would know anything about it. It's October and Steve starts packing Eddie lunches for work. Eddie doesn't know what to do about it.

wake up the dawn (T | 7.6k | 1/1)

The worst part about the secrets is that Steve will eventually find someone else to share them with, someone else to show his big dorky glasses and play a subdued game of Two Truths and a Lie with, and Eddie will fade into the periphery, into the background, into nothing until he dissipates completely. It’s inevitable. That doesn’t make the dull ache right smack dab into the middle of his chest any less painful. Or, Eddie considers grief, hair, secrets, lullabies, and the unattainability of dreams.

[greenjacketwhitehatdocmui]

A Supergirl Story Idea...

...that I won't have time for, given that I still have to finish a lot of other stuff. But, I should at least write it down. Trigger Warning: Mention of blood.

This was inspired by @comickergirl's rendition of Kara Zor-El as a Jedi...somewhere.

Alex grunted as she helped the Jedi into an empty space of the junk heap. She knew that their pursuers weren't far behind, but she just couldn't leave Kara behind.

She eased Kara down as best as she could. The Jedi Knight looked pale, even in the dim light of the moons. The side of Kara's robes had a dark spot that Alex didn't like the looks of.

"Thanks," Jedi Knight Kara Zor-El croaked. She blinked hard and tried not to grimace. "Where are we?"

"A junkyard," Alex said tersely. She wished she had a medkit right now. "I thought you were supposed to be super strong!"

Kara coughed. "Under a yellow sun, yes," she rasped. "Whatever I got hit with, it drained me like it did my lightsaber. I could recharge--"

"--if this planet wasn't under a red sun," Alex finished. "In the meantime, we're surrounded by old and rusty weapons. Unless we can somehow make use of ancient torpedoes and a rusty fusion bomb, we don't have much of a chance."

Kara blinked. "Did you say `fusion?'"

Alex nodded. "We're leaning against it." She checked said explosive and her jaw dropped. "And...whoever dumped this here never bothered to disarm it. It's not a planet buster, but it'll definitely demolish a house or two. We should back away...very carefully."

Kara grimaced. "Perfect."

"Yeah, it's been a streak of bad luck, lately. I know you Jedi don't believe in luck, but--"

"No--" She grunted. "No, it's good luck. We need to blow this up."

Alex blinked, shocked at what she was hearing. "I'm sorry, but maybe the blood loss is getting to you. Are you out of your kriffing mind?! Do you want to blow yourself up?!"

"What do stars run on?" Kara sounded weaker.

Alex sighed. "Fusion." She examined the bomb. "I can't believe I'm going to do this."

"The Force is with me...and you," Kara said.

"If you say so."

It took a few moments, but Alex figured out the controls. She also estimated the blast radius--something that would become very important in the next few moments.

If she was right, the bomb would be limited to 20 meters. If she was wrong, neither of them would have to worry about anything ever again, especially not their pursuers.

She showed Kara how to detonate the bomb. Then, cursing herself with every step, she sprinted for a good ten minutes.

The initial shockwave from the explosion nearly knocked her off her feet, but she kept going. She heard secondary explosions going off, reducing the junkyard to little more than metallic splinters and ash.

Alex stopped and turned around. She didn't consider herself to be terribly spiritual, but she prayed that she hadn't just killed her friend--no, a sister of her heart.

A single plume of light emerged from the conflagration. She resisted the urge to whoop with joy as Kara soared through the night air, her body glowing. The Jedi gently landed next to her, a distinctly mischievous smirk on her face. She moved with easy grace, with no sign of pain.

"Told you the Force was with us," Kara said.

And...that's all I've got. Hope you liked this little fragment!

And Sarah? This was your fault.

--Doc