#dimension travel fics

[oh-no-its-bird]

Ok so: one of those "Rin survives and Obito returns to the village and everything is wonderful" aus. Where also Rin and Obito get together and are a couple n stuff

Now toss Rin, Obito and Kakashi into canon and after all the usual shock and drama and trauma and "omg... ur alive and happy in another world... woah..." we finally get people staring in abject horror as power couple Obito and Rin throw themselves at their Kakashi in increasingly obvious, pathetic, and at times concerning attempts to get in his pants.

Meanwhile: Kakashi notices absoloutley nothing.

Also meanwhile: Canon Kakashi is standing there having a fucking mental breakdown every time Rin and/or Obito so much as LOOK at him.

Rin and Obito smell his weakness like fucking bloodhounds and after the initial "u deserve to be happy Kakashi, whatever happened in this world wasnt ur fault <3" they are now throwing themselves at THIS Kakashi in increasingly desperate and concerning attempts to get in HIS pants.

And canon Kakashi. Absoloutley notices. And, ofc, runs the hell away.

He can't even handle looking at their faces normally, you think he can comprehend either of them wanting to kiss him??? BOTH of them wanting to kiss him??!??!???!?!!!????

GET HIM OUT OF THERE!!!!!!

[o0sleepingdead0o]

Prepared for Anything Pt. 2

Part 3, MasterPost

Gotham was a terrible place to live.

It was great.

People weren’t overly friendly or familiar with people they didn’t know, meaning they paid Danny no mind. No one mentioned he had fangs. No one commented on his slightly pointed ears. And no one questioned his strange ability to ward off muggers and would be criminals without even having to speak to them. His ghost aura came in handy sometimes.

It also mean that rent was dirt cheap. Especially in Crime Alley where Danny had taken up residence. It was made even cheaper by the fact that Danny didn't need heating with his ghostly physiology. It cut a lot down on bills. Not that it really mattered much. As Ghost King, he had an abundance of funds that he wasn’t sure he could dry it up within fifty lifetimes, let alone his one. However immortal it was.

The downside was the old wiring. Leaving him here. Eating Mac and cheese out of the pot he’d been cooking up as he watched the fire flicker and smoke plume out the windows.

Now, Danny hadn’t been planning to flee his apartment, it’s not like he woulda been in any danger, but his neighbour, some guy named Jason, had gone door to door, ensuring everyone was following the fire drills that children learned in elementary school which were ultimately incredibly flawed. Who really believed that an entire school of children would stay calm and collected during an actual fire?

Jason was nowhere to be seen now, though. Danny wondered if he was okay, but that guy currently helping a family out onto a fire escape, Red Bird. . .Red Helmet or something, would probably make sure he was. He was apparently a crime lord, but a good one?. . . .

. . .

Gotham was weird.

Just as the red guy and the family reached the ground, a scream for help called from the second top floor. They sounded young. Danny looked up to see a little girl at a window and flames raging too close for her to go anywhere.

Well. . . that was concerning. Who had left such a young kid unattended? 

Red Dude was dashing out to the front of the building to get his bearings, looking for a way up. He wouldn’t be able to reach the girl using the fire escape. Danny took another bite of his Mac and Cheese, watching as the man’s grapple gun jammed.

Danny heaved a deep sigh. 

He supposed he would have to get involved.

Leaving the crowd of tenants that had huddled on the sidewalk, Danny trudged back across the street and into an alley. He went far enough that no one would see him and opened a portal. With one hand, he reached in, found purchase on his quarry, and turned away to drag the ladder out and behind him.

Danny found Trigger-Happy-Dude starting to scale the building. Danny interrupted him before he got too far.

He belatedly wondered where the fire-fighters and cops were.

“Oh, hey, look what I randomly found in that alley.”

Red Dude paused to look at him. Looked at the ladder trailing behind Danny.

“It’s a ladder.” Danny raised it slightly from his lazy hold, noting how much he felt like he was giving an infomercial right now. “Pretty long, huh? Long enough to reach that floor, I bet.” Danny added helpfully with an encouraging nod. “How fortuitous.”

The Red Dude was quick to drop down and take it from him, but stared at Danny the whole time as if was abnormally weird.

Which was rude. Danny was just abnormal, thank you very much.

“Uhh. . .good work.” Red Dude said, setting up the ladder with Danny’s help. The vigilante tested it for stability. 

Danny scoffed. As if he would purposefully tamper with it.

Which wasn’t too far-fetched in this city.

Red Dude deemed it acceptable. “Hold it steady for me, would ya?”

Danny nodded.

The man climbed up and Danny held both sides, pouting down at his pot of Mac and Cheese he’d had to set aside for the moment.

Ah, the sacrifices he makes.

Across the street, there were a multitude of cheers as Red Dude reached the little girl and settled her on his front like a backwards piggy-back hold.

Danny stepped aside when Red reached the bottom to pick his pot back up.

Sirens cut into the roar of flames above their heads and the loud call of the tenants that had lasted rather short, a few half-hearted cheers dying on the wind.

It was the middle of the night. Everyone was tired.

The mother of the little girl ran up to take her child and flagged down the first paramedic to arrive on the scene.

Danny returned his gaze to Red Dude who equally eyed him. Or at least, Danny assumed. His head was facing him.

“You’re that guy who punched out Joker.”

Danny paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. He slowly brought it the rest of the way. “How’d you know about that?”

“Cameras.” Hood tapped his helmet with a finger. “I saw RR and Robin’s video feed.”

Danny hummed, nodding along as he chewed. He wasn’t terribly concerned. Danny was just a random guy that happened to punch another random guy. It probably happened all the time in a place like Gotham. There was no need for further investigation into who Danny was. The vigilantes had probably forgotten all about him until this instant.

Red Dude looked at his pot. “That’s what you’re eating?” He said, somehow conveying judgement through the modulator.

“Yep.” Danny took another bite. After a moment of contemplation, he left the fork in his mouth to produce another from his hoodie pocket. He held it out to Red Dude. “Mac and Cheese?”

The dude leaned back slightly and his crossed arms gave the impression he was offended. “You just carry forks around in your pockets?”

Danny shrugged. “Ah, ya know, never leave home without a back-up fork.”

Red Dude considered him for another moment and Danny thought he’d decline. But then, he shrugged, his stance relaxing somewhat. “Sure.” He accepted the fork.

[lovinglonerhybrid]

I need more lost light ends up in other continuities content. Give me the G1 bots being terrified of a ravage that can talk and a Grimlock that has made friends with deceptions. Give me animated ultra Magnus getting teased mercilessly for being short compared to the lost light bots. Give me prime Optimus being faced with the fact that megatron can change. Prime ratchet being horrified that he robot married a decepticon and is on speaking terms with megatron. Give me the lostlight crew staging a prison break in earthspark after seeing how GHOST treats its prisoners. LL megs telling armada starscream that he’s proud of him. Bayverse bots being confused and swerve calling out racist stereotypes. Rewind making a scrap book of all the dimensions and bots that they meet. I just want lost light silliness.

[ghost-bxrd]

“This is where you live?”

Jason drops the duffle bag on the counter, “Yeah. It’s no manor, kid. I told you.”

He’s not self conscious. He’s not. This apartment is fuckin’ nice ok? He spent a lot of money on decor and proper kitchenware and furniture and shit.

But Jason also knows that, objectively speaking, it doesn’t hold a candle to Wayne manor and its fifty-something bedrooms. That place is basically its own country.

Bruce nods.

“I like it,” he says solemnly, walking over towards the window to peek through the blinds. The view from up here isn’t exactly panorama level but the building is one of the tallest in Crime Alley and Jason’s apartment is on the top floor, so it does provide a pretty good view of a good portion of the Alley. “It doesn’t feel as empty.”

Jason pauses where he’s resetting the traps and alarms by the door, glancing over his shoulder to where Bruce is starting to tentatively explore the living space and is struck by how violently out of place the boy looks with his rigid posture and elegantly curved eyebrows. Even the plain hoodie, faded hand-me-down jeans and ridiculous wool cap aren’t enough to hide how utterly not Crime Alley born-and-bred he is. Everything about Bruce is basically screaming rich-Bristol-trust-fund-kid.

Which, yeah. Checks out.

Jason clears his throat and clicks the security on, waiting for the small light at the side to switch from green to red.

“Your room’s the one down the hall to the left. Right one is mine. Door at the end of the hall is the bathroom.”

Bruce hikes his backpack up higher on his shoulder, eyes eerily vacant as always, but Jason wants to think that there’s a sliver of curiosity behind that steely gaze anyways as he inclines his head and makes his way down the hall.

As soon as the kid vanishes around the corner Jason allows himself a moment to exhale and run a hand down his face tiredly.

Jesus fucking Christ.

What was he thinking.

How the fuck is he supposed to raise a tiny Bruce Wayne with his older furry counterpart running around Gotham at night hunting criminals? Criminals like Jason?

Nothing. He was thinking nothing. And it’s about to bite him in the ass.

No way can he build a criminal empire and take over the drugs and weapons trade with a traumatized nine year old dependent on him.

God dammit.

[hwang-inhos-fish]

Superposition

I may not do a board for every chapter but I wanted to do a little something :)

All-in-one-image board below

[padfootastic]

once again i am annoyed at how easily james is shunted aside in both canon and fandom narratives. we have such a clear parallel of mothers love and fathers love—the blood protection and the patronus, and yet only one is really expounded upon and treated like the symbol it is.

even in fandom, james’ sacrifice is almost never acknowledged, his loyalty never considered.

and just. harry’s patronus!!!! what else do u need!!!!!

[superbat-lmao]

Jason’s comms aren’t working when he gets to the thick of the fight. Tim is facing off against some sort of discredited scientist with a fancy gun that shoots energy instead of bullets. Whoop-de-fucking-do.

The night of a fucking Arkham breakout.

Just his luck.

So Jason jumps into the fight until another fight basically crashes into them.

Jason is hiding behind cover and trying to find a clear shot when he hears it. The laughter.

He’d been doing better, controlling the pit, but suddenly it feels like green floodlights have been turned on and his vision is swirling. Someone is shouting but he can’t hear them over the kill kill kill.

There’s a sudden silence and Jason finally has a second to realize that’s not a good thing and when he looks back at the fight from behind cover he realizes that discredited crazy scientist is holding Tim with the ray gun pressed to his head and Bruce and Dick are trying to talk him down while the Joker is out cold at their feet. Nightwing is restraining him but clearly doesn’t want to take his eyes off the man holding a gun to Red Robin’s head.

Batman appears to be speaking to the man as quiet and calmly as possible. Which is of course when Mr. Discredited spots Jason and tenses all over, trying to back away.

Jason stands, but stays where he is.

Batman and Nightwing seem shocked to see him, given how they both went still when he entered their periphery, and he realizes that he’s only in a domino and Tim must’ve been too busy to convey much over the comms.

Without his vocoder, Jason asks in the closest approximation of his old Robin voice, “What’s the gun even do?”

The guy turns towards him and Jason hopes Batman is able to get closer if he’s serving as the distraction. It’s been a while since he’s tried to act out this narrative, and never while fighting down the odd echoes in his head telling him the Joker is right there and chanting kill kill kill kill.

“It’s a permanent solution! It will fix everything! If I could just prove -“

“Hey man, if you’re looking for someone to use a permanent solution on, we got a spare rogue right here? Why pick one of the Bats?”

“It’s not about them! I didn’t,” he seems to finally realize who Nightwing is restraining and says, “Jesus is that the fucking Joker?”

Alright, so Jason’s finding himself hoping the guy is better at science than his observational skills, or whatever skill level allows Tim to walk away and not end up all glowy and gone.

“Yeah man, seriously. What do you have against the Bats and not the rogues?”

“Well it’s not like I had access to Arkham! But now that you say it-“

Batman was surging forward but the gun was no longer aimed at Red Robin. The body that Nightwing had restrained was engulfed in a flash of light and then gone.

The gun was out of the man’s hands and Red Robin was stumbling towards Nightwing. Jason felt numb. Maybe he was smiling. He had no clue what his face looked like.

“What the fuck were you thinking? Do you know what you just did?”

“What? The Joker’s dead and gone - permanent solution. What’s wrong with that?”

“Hood, if you’d fucking heard Oracle over comms you’d know the man was experimenting with dimension travel! Now we have to go retrieve the fucking Joker!”

“Oh shit.”

***

In a different warehouse, in a different universe, Bruce Wayne stands alone in a room lit by a single bulb. There’s a man tied to a chair in front of him covered in blood. There are teeth on the ground.

A bloodied and stumbling man covered in white paint and an exaggerated smile flashes into the room. He’s looking about, trying to get a grasp on his surroundings. He sees Wayne and grins.

“Hello, Brucie. Fancy seeing you here!”

“How did you make it past my guards?”

“What? Oh, you’d have to ask the Bats. Seen any ultra-serious assholes in spandex come through here? Anyways, what’re you up to? Beating a man to death?”

“Getting one to talk. As I’m assuming I’ll have to make you do in a moment. Nightwing!”

The last part was a shouted order and a smiling Dick Grayson came into the room moving with the grace of a shark, fluid and predatory.

“We’ve got unexpected company. Maybe a witness. Could you take him?”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

“Nightwing? Are you telling me Nightwing is Dick Grayson? Where the hell am I?”

“You know his name?”

“Where I’m from Nightwing is one of the Bats.”

At the blank look the men’s faces he adds, “You know, the fucking vigilantes of Gotham. Running around pretending to be heroes. Batman? Nightwing? The other little birdies?”

Bruce Wayne goes rigid at the mention of others.

“What other birds?”

“Oh you know, Robin! There’s been at least three more of those goddamn brats since I killed the second one. And what a pleasure it will be to-“

He’s cut off by Dick Grayson grabbing him under the collar and hauling him off his feet.

“You ever had a crazy like this before, Boss?”

There was something cold and calculating on Bruce’s face.

“No. But I think I have an idea of where he came from. Could you pass me your piece?”

One of Dick’s hands reached behind him and removed the gun he had secured.

“You’re telling me that where you’re from you killed Robin?”

All he got was a wheeze as a response. There was a frantic look in the man’s eyes.

“Well, how fortunate you’re here now.”

There was a single, silenced, shot.

“Can you handle the body? I’m almost done here. Then we can go find the boys and update them. Take a blood sample before you’re done.”

“Sure thing. See you back at the manor.”

“Be safe, son.”

[alittlesongbirdchirps]

YESSS IM WRITING THE ABSOULTE BATMAN SWAP WITH REGULAR BATMAN FIC.

AND IVE COME UP WITH A FEW IDEAS

John Constantine becomes a demon in this, it’s supposed to be a universe without much hope. So stay with me okay. He sells his soul to save the one he damned unfortunately, the soul was far to tormented to go to heaven and find peace.

Constantine can’t give it back to hell but he needs to make sure he can protect what’s left of the one he damned long enough until they can find peace.

Doesn’t take him long to stop being another demons bitch and become one of the most feared demons in hell after the princes of course.

He’s also feared in the moral realm because he still does odd jobs, and collects souls. Not of the innocent, which would give him more power. He takes the souls of murders and does things in exchange for someone’s soul, well only the really evil people. Innocent people he makes them do stupid shit or sacrifice an important thing to them a memory or iteam which gives him power.

Why am I giving John Constantine a role in this universe, who do you think normal Batman goes to while stuck in the absolute universe.

Obviously he’s not expecting John to be a demon. And robin of this world who he assumes is Dick’s mother helps him be protected from John and avoid any tricks.

Even though Shazam won’t make an appearance, my idea is that when he transforms instead of it being shapeshifting he rips his future body to the past, because he was destined for the powers when he was older.

[uh-oh-its-bird]

Part 2 of 4 of dumb fic ideas that I found buried in my notes app

Down the rabbit hole

Obito falls into a modern AU via kamui fuckery and doesn't know how to deal with this soft, civilian version of Kakashi he ends up finding.

Kakashi is into tarot, wears a medical mask and is somewhat sickly. Has some sort of chronic illness that prevents him from doing too much physical activities

I want to see Obito play some sort of game as Kakashi cheers him on and Obito goes fucking wild off that fact alone bc of layers of reasons and insecurities and hang ups— especially and specifically the pedestal he put Kakashi up on as a kid that he only sort of managed to grow out of. He is reawakening things he tried very very hard to bury

With the modern world standards of strong being so pathetically weak compared to Obito he really gets to have that power complex or whatever fed. Specifically with Kakashi being a noticeably weak (even for a civilian, which Obito can NOT wrap his head around) it's fueling all sorts of daydreams and old fantasies about Obito getting to be some sort of hero, swinging in to save everyone read: the guy he wants the approval of being strong the most at the last second

It's mostly just stupid fluff of him fucking around modern day being incredibly weird about familiar faces (Kakashi especially) but with some angsty character focus sprinkled in here and there. Obito getting to play into being a hero for a much weaker Kakashi is doing things to his brain and they aren't all good

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

"Fragments of Time"

Maze Runner Time travel AU, Newt x Thomas

Masterlist

Based on this post

Summary: Newt finds himself transported to the ruins of the Last City in the future, where he reunites with Thomas and the others. But someone follows him to this other dimension, someone who has sworn to put an end to the Safe Haven.

Warnings: Themes of grief and loss, references to the Flare and infection, mild violence, fluff (let me know if there's anything else)

Word Count: 2.3k words

A/N: this is gonna have to have a part two- This also might not be 100% accurate to the post or what they had in mind but I tried my best. Some of this might be inaccurate in the series in general! I tried combining the books and movies somewhat.

One moment, he was in the Last City, worrying about the Flare overtaking him; the next, he stood amidst the ruins of the same city where he had been infected.

Newt looked around, dazed. He was almost sure this was the Last City, but how could this just happen?

Newt stumbled through the debris, trying to take it all in. The skyline of the Last City was unrecognizable, with shattered buildings dotting the landscape like ghosts. He tightened his grip on a makeshift weapon, a rusted pipe he found, and tried to steady his breathing.

He could still feel the Flare in him. It was like a physical thing. Worms swimming through his veins and into his organs slowly but oh so surely, but he could fight it. He knew he could.

As he moved cautiously, the soft scuffle of his footfalls echoed off the crumbling concrete. Suddenly, he heard a noise—something that sounded like a low growl, followed by a shuffle.

Crank.

He quickly ducked behind a fallen wall, sweat trickling down his brow.

But before he could gather his thoughts, he bumped into a neon sign buzzing faintly on the ground with his bad leg.

"Shuck," he swore quietly. Panic surged through him as he struggled to regain his footing, but it was too late.

The sound of footsteps grew closer, and Newt's heart pounded in his ears. He held his breath, hoping that whoever—or whatever—it was wouldn't find him. He couldn't fight a Crank with a shucking pipe.

Just as he thought he might escape, a figure rounded the corner. It was a tall silhouette, moving cautiously, scanning the surroundings. He held the pipe tightly. He could try.

"Who's there?" a very familiar voice shouted, echoing in the desolate space.

Tommy?

"Come out or I'll shoot!" Thomas yelled.

"Don't shoot!" Newt yelled back, dropping his weapon and stepping out into Thomas's line of sight.

The first thing he saw was the launcher pointed at his face. "Don't move!"

"It's me! It's Newt!"

"Newt?" 

"Yeah, it's me," Newt replied, stepping cautiously into view, hands raised to in surrender. "I don't know how I got here, but—"

Thomas lowered his weapon. His hair was tousled, and there was a smudge of dirt across his cheek, but the familiar intensity in his gaze remained unchanged. He wore a makeshift vest, frayed at the edges, and his shirt was slightly torn.

Oh shucking hell, that was not something Newt should be focusing on right now—

"Wait, hold on!" Thomas interrupted, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the illusion. "You were... you were gone."

"One moment I'm in the WICKED headquarters, and then—" He gestured to the ruins around them. "I'm here. I don't understand it either!"

Thomas's grip on the weapon faltered, confusion evident on his face. "This can't be real. How can you just show up like this? It's impossible!"

Newt took a hesitant step forward. "I'm here, Tommy."

Their eyes locked, and the world around them faded. "How...? I thought I'd never see you again."

"What do you mean?" Newt asked. "What happened?"

Thomas swallowed hard. "You—you died."

The blonde boy frowned. "What?"

"The Flare—I—I had to—" He swallowed again.

"Thomas, what do you mean?" Newt's voice wavered. "I'm here. I can't be dead if I'm standing right in front of you."

Thomas's expression shifted. "You were gone, Newt. I watched you... You were infected, and then..." Thomas's eyes widened.

"We need to get back to Safe Haven."

"Safe Haven?" Newt asked, still trying to process everything.

"It's not far from here," Thomas said firmly.

"Right," Newt said, exhaling. "Lead the way."

He wasn't sure what was going on but he trusted Thomas. He always would.

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

The first place Thomas led Newt was a Med tent. There were two of them, one on the outskirts of Safe Haven and one in the middle of it, just in case.

Brenda was there, turning to greet Thomas when her eyes landed on Newt. "What—"

"The cure! Now!"

Brenda stuttered before obeying quickly, getting a syringe filled with a blue liquid.

"Cure?" Newt looked between them, eyes wide, "You found a cure for the Flare?"

Seeing Newt again felt impossible. It was impossible. He was supposed to be dead. Thomas killed him. Newt begged him to.

But he was standing right in front of him. And he could finally finally save him.

Brenda basically stabbed Newt with the needle, and he flinched.

Brenda stared at him. "How?"

Thomas also stared. "Great question."

Newt cleared his throat. "I agree with that."

"I mean WICKED has to do something with—"

"WICKED is gone," Thomas said plainly.

Newt frowned. "It is? We did it? Can someone tell me what's going on!?"

"From the past...?" Brenda muttered in awe. "Is that even possible?"

"Might as well be," Thomas said, "Would it really be that surprising?"

Brenda shook his head. "No. I guess not."

Thomas didn't want to know how Newt got here. Not if there was even the smallest possibility it would take Newt away from him again.

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

Minho was the first one who saw Newt but the last one to approach him. Newt felt his eyes on him as everyone else rushed toward him, their voices overlapping in a flurry of excitement and disbelief.

Minho remained at a distance, his arms crossed tightly, a mixture of hope and caution on his face.

Thomas walked up to him and started talking to him quietly. Not once did Minho look away from Newt.

"Is it really you?" Minho finally called out, breaking his silence but still staying put.

"It's me," Newt replied, taking a cautious step forward.

A flicker of relief crossed Minho's face, but his eyes still searched Newt's, looking for any signs of the Flare or a trick. "You sure? You look... different."

"I'm okay. I promise."

Minho unfolded his arms slowly, still hesitant. "You don't look okay, shank. You look like you've seen hell."

"Maybe I have," Newt said, "But I'm here. That counts for something, right?"

Minho's resolve broke, and he pulled Newt into a suffocating hug. "Don't you dare leave us again," he murmured into Newt's shoulder.

Newt hugged him back just as hard. "I won't. Not if I have anything to say about it."

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

Janson blinked as he regained consciousness. Disoriented, he realized he was sprawled on the cold concrete. The Last City stretched around him, a shadow of its old self, with crumbling buildings and debris everywhere.

He pushed himself to his feet, brushing dust off his clothes. Confusion settled in—how had he ended up here?

"What the fuck?" he muttered. He needed to find out what happened and where everyone was.

As he stepped forward, he heard a faint shuffle in the distance. Janson froze, instincts kicking in. He quickly scanned the area, searching for any sign of life—or danger.

A Crank stumbled into view, its eyes wild and unsteady. Janson's stomach dropped. He had faced enough of these creatures to know how dangerous they could be.

He held his breath, waiting for the right moment. The Crank shuffled closer, muttering incoherently. Janson picked up a sharp, rusted piece of metal, ready to defend himself.

As the Crank turned its back, Janson saw his chance. He dashed out from his hiding place and swung the metal shard with all his strength. It connected, and the Crank collapsed, but the sound echoed in the desolation, alerting others.

"Shit!" he hissed, scanning for more Cranks. He needed to move quickly.

He sprinted through the wreckage, searching for shelter, a place to regroup and plan.

Ahead, a flicker of light caught his eye—a neon sign half-buried in debris. Janson picked up his pace, hoping it was some form of refuge. As he approached, he realized it was an old convenience store, its entrance partially blocked but he would still be able to get close.

He squeezed through the gap, the faint light illuminating the interior. Inside, Janson quickly searched for anything useful. He needed to find a way to defend himself if more Cranks came.

He rummaged through the wreckage, finding a sturdy crowbar. It felt solid in his hands. Just as he was about to exit, he heard a noise—a low growl echoing from outside.

The Cranks were close.

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

Newt sat around the fire with his friends now. They told him everything—their struggles, their victories, and how they created Safe Haven. The warmth of the flames provided a comforting glow as they reminisced.

After the topic turned much more light-hearted, Thomas animatedly recounted a particularly close encounter with a Crank, gesturing wildly. "And I swear, I thought we were done for! But Minho—"

"Yeah, yeah," Minho waved him off. "I'm just trying not to get us all killed."

Across the fire, Brenda chimed in. "You all are lucky to survive that. I'd take a different route altogether."

"Yeah, but your routes usually involve explosions," Thomas teased, earning a playful glare from her.

"Explosions are effective," she shot back.

Frypan, who prepared food, looked up with a smirk. "Just don't ask her to cook anything."

"Hey!" Brenda protested. "I can cook!"

"Just not without a few fireworks," Frypan said, shaking his head.

Newt leaned back. "You all really did it, didn't you? Build something good."

"Yeah, we did," Thomas replied, a proud smile on his face. "It's not perfect, but it's ours."

"And it's pretty shucking cool," Minho added.

"It is," Newt admitted.

Conversation drifted from here and there as Newt tried his best to focus on his friends, yet his thoughts went to Thomas. Unsurprisingly.

The way Thomas recounted adventures made Newt's heart flutter. It was as if the firelight cast a halo around him, illuminating his face. Newt found himself captivated, his gaze lingering on Thomas's expressive hands as they gestured.

Thomas's laughter resonated with him long after it faded, how the intensity of their struggles drew them closer together. And now, with the weight of everything they faced, Newt felt an overwhelming urge to bridge the gap between them, to speak what had been left unspoken.

"Hey, Newt!" Brenda called, pulling him from his reverie. "You in there?"

"Yeah, sorry," he replied, forcing a smile. "Just...glad to be here."

But he wanted to say more. He wanted to reach across the fire and take Tommy's hand, to share the truth of what he felt, but the words felt stuck in his throat.

Newt stood up, unable to shake the restless energy in his chest. He needed a moment to breathe, to think. He muttered some excuse and slipped away, the sounds of his friends fading behind him as he navigated Safe Haven.

The garden was quiet. Newt wandered among the rows, trying to sort through his feelings. The chaos of everything—the Flare, the memories, and now this inexplicable time shift—was too much to process.

He leaned against a weathered fence, closing his eyes, letting the cool night air wash over him. But just as he began to feel a sense of calm, he heard footsteps approaching.

"Newt?" Thomas's voice cut through the quiet, and Newt turned to see him standing just a few feet away, concern etched across his features.

"I just need some air," Newt said, trying to sound casual.

"Mind if I join you?" Thomas asked, taking a step closer.

"Not at all," Newt replied, giving him a small smile.

They stood in silence for a moment. Finally, Thomas broke it, his voice soft. "I've missed you, you know."

"Did you?" he smiled at the thought, then felt guilty at it. Thomas and his friends had grieved him.

"Yeah..."Thomas took a deep breath, his expression shifting to something more serious. "I thought I'd lost you for good. When you... when I had to..." He paused, "I didn't realize how much I loved you until it was too late."

Newt's breath caught in his throat. "You love me?"

"Of course I do," Thomas said, "But I'm scared. I don't want to admit it, not when we're fighting for survival, and not when I thought you were gone forever."

Newt blinked, trying to process this revelation. "I thought... I thought I was the only one."

He looked dumbfounded. "What?"

Newt laughed quietly. "Since you were a Greenbean, Tommy."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

Thomas's eyes widened in surprise, and a soft laugh escaped his lips. "Seriously? I had no idea!"

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly vocal about it," Newt admitted. "I thought you'd never feel the same."

"I spent so much time worried about what would happen if I said anything," Thomas confessed, his gaze steady on Newt's. "But it sounds like we were both scared."

They stood in silence for a moment, taking in the quiet of the garden.

"We should get back, shouldn't we?" Thomas said, breaking the silence. Again.

"We probably should," Newt confirmed.

Despite this, they didn't move. Both of them waited. For something.

"Shuck it," Thomas muttered.

In an instant, the distance between them disappeared. Thomas leaned in, their lips brushing softly at first as if testing the waters. Newt's heart soared, and he deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around Thomas's waist.

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

Janson had to keep moving.

He shifted and listened for any sounds of danger. The low growls of Cranks echoed in the distance. He wasn’t safe yet.

“Focus,” he muttered to himself. He needed a plan. His mind raced back to the last moments he could remember—fighting the goddamn children. The last he remembered, he had been with Theresa. How did he end up here?

The growling grew louder. His instincts kicked in, and he crouched behind fallen debris. He held his breath as a Crank stumbled into view, eyes wild and unfocused. It was close—too close.

He gripped the crowbar tighter, waiting for the right moment. Then swung hard, connecting with a sickening thud. The Crank collapsed, but more sounds of them echoed.

He scrambled to his feet, pushing forward, a single thought guiding him: survive. He’d find a way to escape this hellhole, and then he’d find them.

They were out there somewhere, and he would search this city and every inch of the scorched earth until he found them.

[blackfoy]

The Great Jayce swap

Jayce from a world where he and the machine herald are true enemies switches with an au where the two are secretly on the same side but pretend to be enemies in front of others. Enemies Jayce will be known as Defender and freinemies Jayce will be known as Progress.

Defender takes a few days to settle into the new world before he is forced into a fight with this world's Herald. The battle is a bit stranger than usual, with his enemy seemingly going easy on him, but then he falls straight into the cyborg's trap and finds himself injured and at the Herald's mercy. His own Herald had never done anything like this, had always aimed for the kill, so he is understandably panicked by his kidnapping. He believes that the Herald plans to augment his body and take control of his mind, turning him against the people of Piltover and his friends. Viktor is actually just trying to help heal the wound he caused while kidnapping the other Jayce. He also wanted the chance to get a read on the man and talk with him privately. What he finds is a man absolutely terrified of him, and his heart softens a good bit as he holds the struggling man down and tends to his wounds. Defender has never seen the technology the Herald is using on him, so he has no way of knowing that it's just going to help close the wound.

Progress, on the other hand, runs into the new world's Herald the first night there, but not in a battle. He finds him nursing an injury far from his base, so he drags him to his home to patch him up, babbling on all the way and not letting the Herald get a word. Viktor is very confused by this new Jayce, who seems so soft and bubbly and calls him cute nicknames while patching him up. He's so very different from Defender that The Herald can't bring himself to harm him, not when the man didn't even seem to realize they were enemies.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Fic where the unjust death of the Uchiha and the subsequent horrific abuse to their bodies via blatant and indiscriminant eye theft results in Konoha being haunted by the spirits of several very angry Uchiha.

"You know... They say that so long as an Uchiha's eyes do not rest in their body, their spirit will never find peace."

When the husk of a woman who used to be Mikoto smiles, there is blood in her teeth.

"What do you think, Elder Danzo?"

Ft.

- Sasuke being repeatedly lured into the woods by the ghosts of his family (and notably, his parents) both bc some want to protect him and some, not powerful enough to retain their sanity in death, wish for him to die so they might take their eyes as their own

- Nara Shikaku, among others in the Hokage's tower, being repeatedly faced with the unsettlingly eyeless ghost of Fugaku as he appears sporadically and attempting to act as if nothing is wrong— always dissapearing when someone questions how he is there (whether he truly seems to keep forgetting that he has died is unclear, but no methods to purge the offices seems able to keep him away for long)

- the spirit of Mikoto taking on a spokesperson role for the dead, as she seems to have been the one to retain the most of herself in death while plagued with the corruptive everything that comes with being a spirit tied to the earth through nefarious means (with Fugaku being a potential second— if he wasn't so busy w convincing himself he hadn't died at all)

- Danzo being haunted by the more mindlessly violent Uchiha ghosts, driven mad in the afterlife at seeing their eyes in his unworthy flesh

- A surprisingly sane Kagami who has Thoughts and Feelings ab Danzo taking his eye— and the mystery of how exactly he had died

- A suddenly the most qualified person to deal with ghosts Kakashi, who's unfortunatley doomed both attract and to be able to see the Uchiha ghosts with his sharingan, and has them breathing down the back of his neck with talk of watching after Sasuke and GETTING REVENGE !!!!!!!!!!!!! which he is legally obligated to do now as the elder ghosts deem his service as their conduit to be his duty, since they gave him a pass on the eye thing. There's a lot of "see I TOLD you it was a good idea to let him keep the eye!! Clearly Amaterasu has left him here for us to use in our darkest of hours"

Aka forcefully adopted by Uchiha ghosts Kakashi who's "adoption" reads a little more like "indentured servitude to the afterlife"

(And he can't help but wonder why he hasn't seen Obito's ghost, after so many years with his eye in his head...

- Itachi being absoloutley hounded by the guilt of what hes done and the spirits of those hes killed, whove left the haunting of Konoha specifically to haunt him (He is not having fun) (The ghost of Shisui is doing his best to ward away the more volatile ones)

And more !!! Potentially, idk. This would be a fun one if I wrote it but I will not. Someone totally should tho , just, not me.

[o0sleepingdead0o]

Prepared for Anything

Part 2, MasterPost

Danny stared at the ceiling, bored, as the creepy clown laughed manically at a camera. Danny hadn’t been in this dimension for two minutes, (he’d portalled directly into Joker’s hideout) before he was promptly tied to a chair. He could get out of it easily.

Thing was, there were others here, restrained more thoroughly than Danny. They wore colourful, armoured suits and were obviously the vigilantes/heroes of this. . .place—Gotham? Danny’d heard the name mentioned a few times now—This Freakshow wannabe was obviously one of their villains. 

Danny had been hoping someone would show up without having to draw attention to himself. What was this dimension’s stance on halfas? Or ghosts?

But no one had come yet, it had been an hour, and he was getting stiff from sitting here so long without being able to move his limbs.

Danny heaved a loud, exasperated sigh-groan at the ceiling. The guy, face-painted like a toddler who’d gotten into their parent’s make-up, suddenly stopped monologuing. 

Good. It was getting annoying.

“Are you done yet?” Danny complained much like the impatient teenager he was. “I’ve got crap to do, wrap it up, would you?”

Danny came here to explore. He was not exploring. He should be exploring and it was all this dude’s fault.

Danny supposed he could go all ghost on him and bounce, but he came all this way. It wasn’t much of hassle, but still. Danny was stubborn. He knew this.

The warehouse was silent. The creepo wasn’t talking, anymore, he wasn’t doing anything, and Danny deigned to lift his head from where it’d been thrown back on the chair.

The costumed people were looking at him in horror.

Danny wasn’t sure why.

The walking fashion disaster began to cackle with condescending amusement.

Yeah, okay, whatever.

Danny ignored the man’s delve into something about Danny’s impending doom, or threatening him with pain, and something, something, something. Something about broken this, burning that, yada, yada yada, when Danny got an idea.

Behind the chair where his hands were bound, knowing no one was behind him, he quietly broke the ropes on his wrists. The vigilantes—a red one with bandoliers crossing over his chest and one who wore a largely grey and black suit with an R emblem on the left side of his chest—were valiantly trying to dissuade the psycho to leave Danny alone, who now realized the said psycho was coming towards him, carrying a crowbar.

How original.

The Joker, as Danny heard someone call him at some point, he’s not sure when, leaned in close. His breath stank. 

Danny made a disgusted face. “Do you not brush your teeth at all? Gross, dude.”

“You won’t be mak—“

Danny punched him in the jaw. The guy went down pretty easily. 

Danny made an annoyed noise as he bent down to untie his ankles from the chair legs. He muttered to himself. “Stupid villains, always gotta get in the way, why can’t I just have one nice vacation, huh?”

“How did you do that?” 

Danny looked up at the red one. “Do what?” He asked, standing and stretching with satisfying pops.

“Get free.”

“Oh. . .” Danny reached into his hoodie sleeve and pulled out a small hand saw. He guessed he coulda used a knife, but it was the first thing he'd thought of.

The guy spluttered. “You just keep a saw in your sleeve?”

“Yep.” Danny popped the P. No need for them to know he can make portals. As tiny as needed. “You guys want help out of those, or what?” Danny gestured to the chains keeping the two bound on the floor.

“No, Joker’s goons outside probably has the keys, we have back-up. . . .coming. . . .where did you get that?”

Danny didn’t miss a beat as he crouched to get a grip on the chain with the large pair of bolt cutters. “Ah, ya know, never leave home without a good pair of bolt cutters.” He offered. The room they were in was pretty bare, saying he found it “lying around” wouldn’t work. It’d be pretty obvious.

“That is absurd.” The younger one said. “Where did they come from?”

Danny snapped the red one free and moved onto the angry eyebrows one. How did they still emote so well through those masks? “Just had it on hand.”

“But wh—“

“Oh look! There ya go! I gotta go, nice being held hostage with y'all.” Danny ignored their calls for him, climbing out of the nearest window and disappearing.

[ilkao3]

Prompt:

Time/Dimension travel AU but it’s Merthur at various points of life running into each other.

Arthur seeing DILF Merlin from Earth 626 or whatever and nearly having a heart attack.

Merlin nearly being bowled over by Tiny Arthur when the kid catches him doing magic bc “That’s amazing! Can you show me more?!”

Arthur being latched onto like he’s a piece of bamboo as baby Merlin cries and eventually falls asleep as he awkwardly sits in front of the portal that opened and Hunith and the sorcerer dude?? sit down to have a break.

Merlin trying not to laugh as Teen Arthur from a modern universe flirts with him via very bad poetry about his eyes in equally horrible old english.

Arthur trying not to cry when Older Merlin looks at him fondly as they sit in his room to talk. He doesn’t even remember what the subject was, he’s just all relaxed and content from being listened to and hugged.

Merlin being glared at after he bowls over cackling when a very foxy King Arthur, clearly recently woken up, asks for a hand pie with his hair defying gravity and marks all over his face, scratching his belly.

Canon Merthur all tense as they’re surrounded by their counterparts from all these other worlds: Together, at ends, strangers, together, and overwhelmed with both pity and happiness when the portals close because while they now know that they’re always destined to be with each other, they also know that it’s not always a happy ending.

But, they can make one of their own, so they stop wasting time and finally profess their love bc I’m a sap and I love me some feelings realization.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 123

In place of August Eleventh, Promptapalooza 4/ If you ask Jaskier, dimensional spells were a bitch. That sorcerer was a twat! Blasting him and Geralt with his stupid cursed amulet boosting his stupid powers stupid man making his witcher all frustrated and sad! "Damn it!" Geralt snarls as they appear in a... Very small room. It's pitch black. "Don't fret, Geralt, there'll be a way out, I'm sure-" "Just- Shut up for a moment, Jaskier." "Right! Shutting up right away! Just as soon as I-" "Jaskier!" Jaskier huffs, and begins blindly feeling for some way out of the room. He feels a stick and gasps with excitement. "Oh, Geralt!" He swings the object around blindly until he hears the unmistakable sound of the bristles of a broom smacking directly into the side of Geralt's head. "Jaskier." "Sorry! Didn't mean to! Though you must admit, it's kind of humorous in it's own way-" *growling* "Alright maybe it isn't! Gods." Suddenly brightness blinds them as someone yanks the door open. "Can you damn kids stop trying to fuck in my supply closet!?" A man in weird clothing yells at them. Jaskier stammers a bit trying to think of like, any response, before Geralt just drags him out by the arm. They're in a bright building, with white walls that don't... appear to be stone or wood? And there's SO many people around. And they're all dressed... similarly to them. "Dude! Nice contacts!" A man in black with white hair says to Geralt. "I love your Jaskier outfit, did you make it yourself?" "Um no, I bought it." Jaskier says, to a man who looks remarkably like himself. "..Um, where are we?" Jaskier asks the man, and the man stares for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. "Ohh! Yeah, it's easy to get lost. You're by the signing booths. What are you looking for? Merch? Photo-ops? Cosplay contest?" "A contest?" Jaskier asks, with excitement. "Yeah! Over who did the best cosplay of The Witcher! Are you going to enter as a Dandelion/Jaskier?" "Yes, I am!~" Geralt is desperately trying to find a way back to his own dimension, waiting for Yennefer to open a portal to find them, but it gets confusing when there's at least forty women AND MEN here dressed exactly like her. Jaskier meanwhile is busy throwing a tantrum over getting second in some contest, but Geralt is more worried for their lives, thank you very much. "SECOND PLACE! In a contest over who looks like me, I got SECOND place, Geralt!"

[innercreationyouth]

Wanting to write time travelling Desmond but not knowing enough history or remembering enough canon is sad. Maybe I just should send him to Harry Potter's universe and make him Harry's dad.

/thinks a little/

...huh...