#future-tense ghosts au

[majickth]

Future-Tense Ghosts • [1] [2] [3]

-- --

Jimmy doesn’t go alone this time.

Food be damned, he’s not gonna run into the arms of another enderman. He’s not dying again, not when he can almost feel the invisible thread of Everything wrapping around him like a noose.

Instead, out of all the possible people, he manages to convince Joel and Etho to come along with him. The journey is…well, it’s a journey with Joel and Etho.

“I can’t see why you need us to come along,” Joel mutters, idly kicking a rock as he walks beside the two. “Shouldn’t your soulmate be the one holding your hand in the big scary dark?”

“I’m not scared of the dark!” Jimmy pauses, then flushes. “And…and he should, actually, but I don’t know where he is. More importantly, I wanted you lot to come along because—“

There’s the sound of air popping, of something disappearing and reappearing in mere seconds. A shadow moving in the dark. He should know better, but instinct is to raise his eyes up in alarm. A flash of purple, eyes briefly skimming over violet eyes, and then—

“Jimmy!”

The sound of distorted screaming hits him before the claws do.

Jimmy gasps as the enderman slams into him, a half-broken shield raised just in time to block the oncoming blow. Claws dig into wood. A shriek echoes in his ears and creature shoves hard. It’s enough to knock him sideways, his body slamming into a tree with enough force to drive the breath from his lungs. Once more, the air rushes to fill a spot, pops apart, and with a vwoosh, the creature is in his face. It pushes against his shield, hissing through a splintered opening, claws inches from Jimmy’s neck, and…

And he should be scared.

He is, technically, absolutely terrified.

But there’s also a strange comfort in knowing what’s to come. Call it resignation, but he’s been down this route -- literally. He’s been here before. He knows it’ll hurt, a lot, and that in the back of his mind he’ll be screaming apologies to Tango. He knows that when the shield finally breaks, that’ll be it, and once more the canary will die first.

Jimmy closes his eyes.

Only it never comes.

There’s a blur of silver and red, and the weight of the enderman is gone. Jimmy gasps, lifting his head briefly to catch sight of Etho pinning the enderman to the ground, sword sunk deep into its lanky torso. It flails and screams, violet sparks gathering before it teleports behind the masked man for a bite.

The monster is quick; Joel is faster. He’s inbetween the creature and his soulbound in mere seconds, lips pulled in a wolfish grin as he drives the sword straight into the creature’s open maw before it can take a single bite. There’s a hiss, a choking scream, and then…

The forest is silent once more.

“Is it…?” Etho stands, dusting purple dust off his hands with a casual flick.

“Dunno. Let me check.”

Joel shoves the body off his sword. He wrinkles his nose at the corpse, pausing for a moment before driving a hard kick to the creature’s head. It’s supposed to look impressive. Instead, there’s a dull thunk that sends both soulbounds reeling, clutching their shared aching feet.

“Yup,” Joel manages between gasps of pain. “Definitely dead.”

“That was…” Terrifying. Scarring. Potentially how he was supposed to die. Definitely how he was supposed to die. Jimmy can’t find the right words, though Joel is more than happy to provide for him.

“Amazing? Yeah. I know. That’s just how us boat boys roll.” Pain receding, Joel smirks and fist bumps Etho. “No, but seriously, are you alright? You could’ve bloody died. Like actually.”

“I’m, um…” Jimmy looks down at the claw marks in his arms, and the familiar warmth of another’s distant attempts at healing fill his chest. He exhales. “Yeah, I’m, um, great! Just…feeling great. Thanks guys.”

“You can thank me by getting home safe, idiot.” Joel grabs Jimmy and pulls him up, usual cheekiness replaced with surprising concern. “And also giving us some spare sugar cane, if you’ve got any.”

“If I make it home, I’ll give you all of it. Promise.”

Despite everything, Jimmy laughs. It’s a stupid promise to make to Joel of all people, but he doesn’t care. Not now, anyways, because there’s two heartbeats in his chest and they beat with the steadiness of an older vow bound by the thread of everything. Something worth more than sugar cane.

He’s a canary who knows he’s made to die. But it feels so good to live a day longer.

[shotmrmiller]

1.8k of what was supposed to be a drabble, oops. same au as this just different situation.

there he is.

the titan the crowd calls Ghost. a creature who seemed to have crawled out of the abyss itself, rage etched into the very marrow of his bones. scars crisscross his arms, chest, and back— souvenirs of battles both won and lost. no one knows much about him. no real name, no past, no future. blank.

a void.

just like his sunken eyes, the only thing anyone can see from behind the midnight black skull balaclava that clings to his face like a second skin. (does he even remember what he looks like underneath?) he stands in front of the club's owner in ragged clothing: a tattered wifebeater that's been stitched, torn, and re-stitched. his pants have strained seams and patched knees. his boots are high cut, made of worn, scuffed leather with laces in the front, pulled tight. functional.

he's terrifying. most here come to fight for glory, for redemption, for escape. not he, though. reverent whispers claim this is all he knows. that he fights like a cornered, wounded beast, with no discipline nor strategy. just primal hunger and unmatched ferocity.

and that's who your idiotic, egotistical boyfriend wants to fight. granted, he's a pretty damn good boxer. not that you'd know much about that, you're simply parroting what you've heard his coach say. but this isn't boxing. no one here wears a padded helmet, with comfortable gloves and silky shorts. the fellow with the mohawk currently fighting isn't even wearing a mouthguard, for fuck's sake.

there are no fucking rules, no referees, no honor, no mercy.

your shoulders rise up to your ears as you tense at a nasty blow the pretty one you've come to learn is named gaz gives mr. mohawk. it splits his lip instantaneously, crimson dribbling down his chin and onto his barrel chest. he should be in pain, but there's only a glint of madness in those bright blue eyes of his. the crazed smile he gives gaz is all blood-stained teeth.

your boyfriend taps you on your shoulder, making you jump. "i'm gonna go talk to mr. price now that he's no longer busy."

what?

"no! you can't be serious!" the metal chair you were seated on screeches as you shoot up and run after him, feet slipping on the mud-slicked floor. "hey! wait!"

he reaches the tall, burly man(broker?) with the antiquated mutton-chop beard before you do. the tailored suit clings to his large frame, molding to his mountainous shoulders and tapered waist. his polished shoes are pristine, unlike the surface he's standing on that's littered with wager slips and sodden with cheap beer.

"don't. be smart, fight smart. you can't possibly— did you see the way the one with the mohawk took a hit to the face without flinching? he's insane! they all are!" you flick your eyes to mr. price. "no offense."

he chuckles low. "none taken, sweetheart. soap's a vigorous man, is all."

soap. gaz. ghost. they've all got bloody fighting nicknames. meanwhile, the only thing your boyfriend's ever been called is dearie by his elderly neighbor.

"your pretty girl's right. i'd steer clear of the pit. this ain't no place for a sheltered bloke such as yourself." his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, yet it felt like a facade. the evenness of his tone had dread crawling up your spine.

"boss." you squeak at the deep voice that comes from beside you— accent thick on his tongue.

mr. price waves a hand dismissively, the rings that adorn his fingers glinting under the dim light of the overhead lamps. "it's nothin' but a couple a'folk placin' their bets."

the look of unfettered stupidity flashes on your boyfriend's face as he turns his head and realizes just who mr. price was talking to. "if it isn't the masked specter himself."

stupid. stupid stupid stupid. god, your boyfriend came in one piece but he's going to leave in bloody pieces if you don't stop him. "stop," you hiss. "this ridiculous stint of yours is over." as is this sorry excuse of a relationship. he'd been a sweet guy at some point, or maybe you were just blinded by his good looks. "sorry for the bother, mr. price. we'll be taking our leave." tugging on your boyfriend's sleeve, you try to lead him away but he stays anchored in place, posturing like a peacock; chest out, shoulders squared and head held high.

he looks at ghost as he challenges him. "name your price. anything, i can meet."

how he can be so blasé in the presence of this bastion is beyond you. ghost stands tall, his shadow engulfing you whole. you can feel the weight of his presence, a crushing force pressing against your sternum. he doesn't speak; and honestly, he doesn't have to. ghost's silence spoke volumes.

"he's not interested, see? let's just go before we're thrown out on our arses."

but your boyfriend doesn't concede. if anything, it only adds fuel to the fire. "not good enough for you? eh? is that it? think yourself untouchable just because you're king of the underbelly?" he goads.

your cheeks are hot, scalding with embarrassment. he's starting to garner attention from the audience that's supposed to be watching the current fight.

and then ghost breaks said silence. "i don't want your money." his rich voice reverberates through bone and marrow; it rattles your very core. "you didn't work hard for it, i can tell. golden spoon runt."

your boyfriend's eyes ignite with anger. for a moment, you thought he was going to swing on the spot, but then, like a wisp of smoke, it dissipated. his fists unclench, his jaw relaxes. "what do you want, then?" he questions.

ghost tips his head your way as he keeps his gaze on your boyfriend. "her. i win, she's mine."

you should've known your now ex would agree. nothing would keep him from accomplishing his goals of 'putting the big dog down' as he so eloquently put it. now you're firmly sat right next to price on the stands (because you will not be calling him john anytime soon, no matter how many times he corrects you) essentially as his hostage.

"nothing personal, sweetheart. i'm a businessman, after all, and the prize walkin' out the front door would be bad for business. hope you understand."

no, you don't. so you tell him as such.

"tha's alright. simon'll take good care of ya, i promise."

"is there any particular reason you're so cocksure of your simon winning?" you manage to ask, your voice fragile.

he takes a thick inhale of his cigar before answering. "unfortunately for you, i've seen it all— the broken bones, shattered dreams, and—" you watch tendrils of smoke unfurl from his mouth, "adversaries who never walked back out."

spectators have already begun to huddle around the cage, puffing on cheap cigarettes. they all look desperate, eyes gleaming with greed. this time the one collecting wagers is a blonde woman, older in age, with her hair in a low bun and a puffer vest. "that your wife?"

he curls a large hand around my shoulder before twisting to look at— "laswell? no. don't swing tha' way." price gives you a gentle squeeze.

oh. you can feel warmth creeping up your neck. "sorry. didn't mean to- er. i didn't know."

"'s'alrigh'. her wife's nice enough. you'll like 'er.'' her wife? the confusion must've shown because he rumbles out a laugh. "no. it'd be me barkin' up the wrong tree. i—" he tightens the grip on your shoulder, "like whatever's pretty to look at." his words from before resounded in your head.

'your pretty girl's right...'

the heat that'd receded now stung the tips of your ears. whatever words you want to say are lodged in your throat but thankfully, you're saved by the bell. literally.

the rusty thing tolls and the crowd hushes their voices and stills their restless shuffling. first walks in your ex (idiot), looking exactly like what ghost had called him earlier— a golden spoon child. his shorts are glossy, even under the flickering, sickly light that falls over the cage. his boxing gloves are a vibrant red, pristine as if right out of the box. (you don't remember soap getting his pretty face broken by hands with gloves, but whatever.) he looks perfect, like something out of a hollywood movie.

and so out of place.

unlike ghost who's just stepped into the ring— who commands the attention of all within the hazy room. he fits right in with the rats who scurry around in the bowels of the city. he moves like the shadows that cling to the dark corners, his steps silent as whispers. a haunted being— one the world above with its neon signs and bustling crowds has long forgotten— has made his home down here.

ghost bumps his mma gloves with your ex's boxing ones, in a show of surprising sportsmanship.

the bell tolls once again, and the fight begins.

and just as quickly as it began, it ended. you blink, momentarily displaced, because there is no way what just happened is real. there hadn't been no real fight. it'd been one devastating blow to the side of your ex's jaw that ended everything. he hadn't stood a chance. it—

"'s done. sorry, love. but simon's headin' this way to claim his prize." price gives you a sympathetic pat to your back. "i swear it on my life he won't harm a hair on your head."

what?

ghost barrels through the roaring crowd and comes to a stop before you. "you're with me, now. best get used to it." shock blurs your vision, or maybe it's the fact that you've been hoisted up and thrown over a shoulder that did it.

it doesn't matter. the one you came here with is currently lying limp on the stained mat, his mouth hanging open a little awkwardly. is he broken? you're put down on a bench in a large dressing room that has only one tall locker in it with a tiny ghost sticker on the front.

"did you... is he dead?" you ask, pulse quickening.

"no. either dislocated or broke tha' jaw of 'is only."

you sputter when metal clinks on the surface of the wooden table he's currently leaning his weight against. dusters? "you used fucking dusters?"

he turns his head and looks at you, piercing and intense. "you and i both know i didn't need anythin' to knock his teeth down his throat, isn't tha' right, pet? eh?"

his knuckles are calloused and heavily scarred, the little finger bent at an angle even when straight. "don't worry 'bout him, you're with me, now." he shrugs on a plain, black jacket and heads for the door. "try to leave and i'll jus' find you again. don't make this any harder than it has to be."

welcome to the rat king's domain, sweetheart.

[dyinggirldied]

royal consort au brainrot

the royal consort au by @dcxdpdabbles makes me lose my mind so i have to share this so i can go to bed:

danny has his own wikipedia page though there is ongoing debate on whether they should use present tense (since he is alive) or past tense (seeing as he is engaged to the ghost king/high king of infinity realm)

some part of the social media romanticizes danny's situation as a hades and persephone or cinderella or both. you just know that some girls and boys out there are maddeningly jealous that danny manages to bag a king who is seemingly deeply in love with him.

unfortunately, he becomes a standard of beauty (twink, short, black-hair and blue eyes) because somehow rumors leak that phantom finds him the epitome of beauty. bruce is a bit worried since tim sort of fits the bill. in another city, billy batson/shazam is being teased by his adoptive siblings also for that precise reason

surprisingly, danny can be a charming speaker which people thinks it's part of why phantom fell in love with him.

bruce (and a portion of the world, including constantine) is concern since danny is still young (not sure how old he is in original prompt so i left it vague) and this whole thing; being the most popular public figure in the world and being haunted constantly by paparazzi, his joining with the ruler of the dead, the political between his home world and his future one, might damage his psyche sooner or later and bruce is trying to find a contingency plan for that.

and what's even is batman's contingency plans for this kind of situation, i don't know. im not that smart but clark, diane and constantine and the flash family will need to be there. to make sure bruce doesn't accidentally go too far.

also, this one comes like a hammer to my head but what if one day, danny feels an itchy sort of feeling in his throat but waves it off as a cold? he regrets it when barely a minute later he coughs out a palmful of blood. danny might be in outdoor place or in the justice league headquarter but the point is: everyone panics. especially once he loses consciousness.

this one can be branched off into two:

someone, either the leftover resentful giw or amanda waller, decides to poison him.

maddie innocently makes lunch for her son, after finding a new bag of spice for the meat. that spice contains blood blossom, which is deadlier for ghost (or half-ghost) if you eat it. of course, clockwork will ensure no one finds out danny is a halfa by making the machine detecting it as allergy, if a bit unsual one and danny will still live, if a bit disgruntle and so done with his half life already

[broadwaytheanimatedseries]

Okay but hear me out!

Dead On Main Revolutionary Ghost Utena AU:

Canonically, Jason focuses his rage to summon the All Blade

Ghost Prince Danny would have the Ring of Rage, but not the Crown of Fire yet

I hypothesize to you that the two are connected, and not only that, but that wearing the ring allows one to draw the All Blade out of the other. Like, literally.

Because of this, summoning the All Blade of their own accord is the mark of a ghost powerful enough to be the ghost king's betrothed, and whatever other ghosts were in the running are pushed back in line as the All Blade wielder is now at the front.

It is part of ancient ceremony that predates Pariah as Ghost King and dates all the way back to the first Royal of the infinite realms, King Lazarus.

The connection itself is no more than a pull towards each other, a fascination at most to make an easier base to build a genuine and in this case, human connection.

To become actually engaged Jason would have to willingly appear before the Ghost Prince and allow him to draw the All Blade out of him, something he is not very excited for and might actually have other lasting impact besides the engagement.

Y'see Jason isn't a halfa the way Danny is, he came back twice in a short amount of time between those two instances, and while the second time was Lazarus induced, no one really knows how he woke up in his grave and broke himself out. There are theories but Clockwork was watching and even he doesn't seem to know for sure, so it's really anyone's guess.

So what the engagement ceremony could do, potentially, is either solidify his halfa status by sheer amount of ectoplasm transfered by the act, or alternatively it could just kill him on the spot and then he'd probably become a full ghost.

Now, neither of these sound great to Jason, but he also doesn't like that a bunch of ghosts have been trying to fight him for their Prince's hand in marriage, something they can only do while the Prince is still not engaged to anyone.

Meanwhile, Danny doesn't appreciate that as soon as he came of age all these marriage proposals started being thrown at him, he's known some of these ghosts since he was a teenager so that's really weird for one, and he gets that most of them are just trying to secure their happiness and not to mention their future safety as the mortal world seems to be moving on with the anti ecto act, which had lead many a specter to retreat back to the realms, causing a lot of unrest as the realms become more crowded and politically tense between factions who have not needed to interact for a while now.

It would seem the Amity portal and even Danny fighting the ghosts and sending them back through it was the break many of the realms' denizens desperately needed, but now with that option no longer being safe, as even their king can't protect them from the GIW when they're gaining so much support from governments across the world, tensions are running high in the realms and it seems that it's every ghost for themselves.

Danny doesn't really resent any of the ghosts for doing what they feel they must to make sure they aren't destroyed in what is shaping out to be a realms wide war at this point, even as he works overtime with his council to prevent that from happening, and he understands they obviously don't expect any actual marital kind of relationship from him, which is at least a little reassuring even if the idea of being married to any of them is still very weird, but he can't help but think there could be a better solution here that he's missing.

And then he feels it, a pull telling him he's overlooked something, someone important.

It's like a fire engulfing his ice core but not burning it somehow, just as it does not cool the fire around it.

Two opposite forces meant to cancel each other out, somehow instead keeping perfect equilibrium with one another.

He talks to Frostbite and Clockwork and finds out what that pull is and takes their advice to follow it.

Jason doesn't realize he just altered the source of all his recent problems to his location as he draws the All Blade to fend off yet another "challenger to the Prince's hand" whatever the hell that means, as finally one of them was dumb enough to try to use actual magic against him.

However, he soon feels the answering pull back from Danny as the latter decides to use the power in his ring to open the portal, feeling that this candidate should at least know he's coming to talk to him.

It's almost the opposite, he feels the fire of the pit madness flaring a bit, but instead of immediately trying to spread, to threaten to consume him unless he tempers it himself, it is still burning just as strong and wild, but kept in one place by an icy chill, an aura of cold, clear fury and calm in equal measure, it doesn't thaw from the fire anymore than his fire dies from the lack of heat around it.

They sustain each other, impossibly.

So Jason and Danny finally meet and give each other the rundown of their side of things and agree that maybe the best bet to not only stop ghosts from attacking Jason and proposing to Danny, but perhaps the key to overthrowing the GIW so the realms' denizens don't have to afterlive in fear and portals can be reinstated to allow travel through the realms and back, not to mention keeping the GIW from going after Jason himself who by their definition is certainly considered an ecto entity, is in fact to go through with the Ring and Blade ceremony.

Jason, at this point, is more of Earth than Danny, who has unfortunately had to step back from his normal mortal life when he turned 18 to take care of realms business, despite still only being Prince.

He was meant to have more time but with the GIW advancing like they had been it was in the realms' best interest as well as his own that he decree the realms going no contact with humans for the foreseeable future.

It's been nearly 3 years since then and they are still getting ghosts back from parts of the world who have been avoiding humans as much as they can.

As soon as he turned 21 all this ghost marriage nonsense has has been making his job of protecting the ghosts in all the realms a lot more difficult, so when ghosts realized he didn't want to be challenged every day for his hand, they went to the next best thing, the top candidate.

Now, Phantom was saying that he's gonna marry the guy they've all been trying to defeat (and failing, to his credit, so at least he was worthy of being top pick)

A lot of them were upset or disappointed, but he explained how this arrangement could potentially help out everyone in the long run and most got on board when they heard the new plan.

Now the only problem is that getting engaged, as mentioned previously, is a ceremony that could prove dangerous to Jason and "not to be insensitive about it, but if you die and become a ghost that sorta defeats one of the main purposes of us even doing this." Danny points out.

"So what's our plan, Your Majesty?" "It's Royal Highness, I'm not king yet, thank the ancients for that." "Yeah yeah, so what are we doing, Your Royal Whinyness?" "Rude. Anyway, there's a chance you might become a full halfa during the process, that means getting a second form and a fully developed core and powers besides the All Blade, which would be better than you dying. So the best way to ensure that outcome, as much as any outcome can be guaranteed anyway, is to start the process of making you a halfa before the ceremony."

"Okay? How do we do that?" "Well, we gotta get some ecto in you - " "aren't you made of that? This better not be a pickup line" "no, not like that! I told you, this marriage doesn't have to be anything more than a contract, I'm about as thrilled about having to get married to save my people as you are about doing this to stop ghost from kicking your ass on a weekly basis." "Excuse me? I won all those fights!" "Yeah, after getting tossed into brick walls 5 times per ghost" "not every ghost tossed me into walls. Box Bitch did throw crates at me tho, that hurt." "Holyshit, Boxy is not messing around anymore huh? Well, makes sense, he's a father now. He doesn't wanna raise his little girl in these conditions. Still glad he lost, but I'm surprised Lunch Lady even agreed to him trying."

So they start Jason on his ecto diet and in the meantime the batfam is brought up to date about everything that's happening and they get to work, Batman gathers the JL to push back on the GIW's fuckery and all of Jason's siblings have an engagement party and a bachelor bash to plan. The girls decide to plan a Bachelorette party for Danny because he deserves to have a break as well.

Jason hates his stupid family, but Danny seems happy to be part of one again after so long, so he sucks it up and plays along.

It's possible that maybe while preparing and planning and helping each other and working together, Jason has gotten to know and developed a fondness for Danny.

Okay so maybe he's a sappy fuck who fell head over heels in love with him in the span of like a month, but this is still just a contract to Danny, and Jason isn't going to push for or expect anything more. Danny doesn't need that kind of stress in his life rn.

Danny has been freaking out since he met his soon to be husband because holyshit that's Red Hood, that is THE Red Hood! No wonder he passed the trial of the All Blade, and the way that fire burned around Danny's core, a fire he now recognized as the warmth answering from Jason's own, made him realize that this is way more than just a contract to him. Still, he'd been part of the realms for a lot longer than Jason ans he was their future king. Jason as part of this contract would be his equal but until the marriage was sealed, he was still technically Jason’s superior. And it didn't feel right to take adventage of that and suddenly change the terms of this deal, to make Jason in any way feel pressured by Danny's own feelings. No, this was just a contract, like Jason wanted it to be. He would keep that promise to him.

Jazz and Babs get together to help their idiot baby brothers figure out their unrequited love is actually very much mutual pining and they're just being stupid.

Anyway the marriage ceremony is a different ritual from the engagement ceremony, the All Blade wielder summons it and presents it to the wearer of the ring, who sheaths it back into the summoner's core, symbolizing that they both have power over the Blade but it belongs to its wielder, and even the king himself may not keep it without permission. The Blade as a manifestation of Jason's will.

(And as a bonus, we know Jason is a literary nerd so he recognizes and appreciates the romance novel tropes happening to him, especially in the high king's court, but he is not a weeb. So I don't think he'd recognize the Utena references happening to him. But you know who I think would? You know who is a weeb who loves swords and is soooo jealous of Todd and his husband right now? It's Damian. Damian's fucking seething that he doesn't get a magic sword. He's so pissed and it's very funny.)

[patolemus]

Sterek fic recs: Time Travel AU Edition

As I promised @oldefashioned here is the start of my unending sterek fic reccing. I’ll go by category because this post will never end otherwise.

1. song of the phoenix by graveltotempo

In a last ditch effort to save Beacon Hills after everyone else has died, Stiles channels all of his energy and magic into cleansing the Nemeton and the magical core of the town. But he is more powerful than he knows, more connected to the Nemeton than anyone can guess, and a group of kids, teenagers and adults wakes up in the middle of the night ten years earlier with a second chance they didn't know they needed and a bond they don't understand. Stiles though? Stiles wakes up with a little more.

Notes: It's just. So good. It's kinda hard to explain but basically no one knows what's going on but at the same time it works. Kinda. They're working on it. Stiles is awesome in this, I especially love his relationship with the Hales, because of course I do. It's ongoing.

2. Twice And For All by novasillies

“Derek,” he said despite himself. The werewolf’s eyes sharpened. Scott gave him a distressed look. “Do I know you?” He asked tensely, and Stiles grinned in return. “Oh, no,” he answered, “Not yet.” - In which a well-timed conflict between the magic of the Ghost Riders and Stiles' spark sends him back to the day Scott got bitten. Stiles pointedly changes nothing and so God complexes, needlessly complex romantic drama, and pure, unbridled silliness ensue. (Updates every Thursday wink wonk)

Notes: This is to date one of my favorite time travel fics of all time, across multiple fandoms. Stiles in this one is just *chef's kiss*. Completely unhinged, I love him. Also, the sterek? Easily one of the best dynamics I've read. It's ongoing, only four chapters left!

3. Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?  Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?

Notes: I liked this one because it's not the typical Stiles travels back in time after everyone else in the pack dies. It's got a different premise, still somewhat canon compliant (maybe??? canon enough), and it's amazingly done. It's complete.

4. Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill

"There . . ." Stiles swallowed and looked down at the bottle in his grasp as he slowly swirled the amber liquid inside. "There's really nothing left. For me. Everyone is . . . gone, and it feels like I haven't thought of tomorrow in years." His words rang in the air like a gunshot, he took another heavy drink. "I would trade every last breath I take to just have another shot—not even a guarantee, just a chance to make things right and bring back even one of them." ----- The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

Notes: So good! Stiles is a traumatized bean and the Hales are just everything! It's complete.

5. The A Spark of Hope and the Butterfly Effect series by Phlinting

It's been eleven years since Scott was bitten by a feral werewolf and, despite his pack's many victories along the way, Gerard Argent's influence lives on. As the knowledge of the supernatural spread to the general population so did the hatred and fear of the unknown. The McCall pack has been picked off one by one and Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski, and Peter Hale are the only three left, on the run and barely surviving. But Stiles has found a spell. He has the magic, the spark, and his belief. He has his dad and Peter to help power it and he has the will and desperation to succeed. He's going back to the Hale fire and this time he's going to stop it ALL before it starts. It's the perfect solution. Too bad things never go quite according to plan...

Notes: The Sheriff and Peter are *chef's kiss* here! I really don't know how to explain all that happens here but it gets a little out of control in the best way. It's complete.

6. The The Long Way Round series by exclamation

A magical accident sends Stiles back in time. Now he's stuck in New York, living with Derek and Laura, and the only way to get back to his own time is to learn to use magic. Meanwhile, he must figure out how much he can tell them about their future. Can he warn them about the dangers they face? Can he change his own past?   And can he trust the creature known as Bookworm, who seems to know him better than he knows himself?

Notes: This series had me in a chokehold, I cried so much but it was absolutely worth it! Stiles doesn't plan to travel back in time on this one, this just... happen, and it all spirals a bit out of control. But don't worry! You may have no idea of what's going to happen, but the author certainly did and they did an amazing work. It's complete.

7. It’s Happening by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Derek stopped listening to him, brain going a mile a minute.   Derek, it’s fucking happening! Derek, please!   He would recognize that fucking voice anywhere. Two years. Two fucking years had passed, and now this little shit was standing in front of him, speaking his name, and grinning like an idiot. “It’s you,” Derek said, earning him a confused look from Stiles. “The phone call. Two years ago. It was you.” (SNYE - January 2nd - Time Travel)

Notes: This is not canon compliant. It's a whole other universe, actually, and it's so good. Good ol' Derek is losing his mind over here, but it's alright! Things work out just fine. It's complete.

These ones are not time travel, but dimensional travel. It’s similar enough so here you go.

8. The play it again series by metisket

In which Stiles goes along with one of Derek’s plans and ends up in an alternate universe as a result. He should’ve known better. He did know better, actually, and that means he has no one to blame but himself. “Laura wants to lure the kid in with food and kindness and make a pet of him, like a feral cat. Derek wants to have him arrested for stalking. They’re at an impasse. (And the rest of the family is staying emphatically out of it in a way that suggests bets have been placed.)”

Notes: I honestly don't know how to show the whole of my appreciation for this series. I think I've read this about five times since I found it last year. Stiles lands himself in a whole other dimension, where the Hale House fire never happened and Scott is human. It goes about as well as you can expect. It's technically not complete, but the main piece is.

9. The Home Across The Universe series by TricksterShi

You can lose your home and spend your whole life looking for it, sometimes you may even find bits of it again. But sometimes home goes out searching and finds you first. ~ The day he loses his father and his pack, Stiles is transported to a parallel world where his counterpart is nine years old and seemingly small changes have had a huge impact on the course of events in Beacon Hills. At first sticking to the shadows as a vigilante to protect his otherworld father and younger self, Stiles is soon drawn out into the light and onto a path that forces him to confront the traumas of his past so that he can make a place for himself in this new world.

Notes: Just. This absolute beast of a universe is seriously so well done, and so good. Imagine play it again, but much more depressing and waaaay longer. The angst is on point! The Stilinskis are the best in this one. And Derek and Laura have my heart, love my pookies. Stiles is not having the best times, but he'll be looked after, don't worry! Also technically not complete, but all the pieces in the series are done.

10. The Ley Lines series by forestofbabel

Stiles is back in town after many years, angry and bitter and disconnected from anything you might call pack. It might as well be a tradition at this point that he gets drunk and wakes up in the woods. Only, this time, something is different.  The ghosts that have weighed in his heart are alive and well, and Stiles gets to witness a life that could have been his. There is one thing he knows, though. No matter how much he may want to stay, he has to go home.  If the ley lines you should follow, and your dwelling at the end, and find your presence has been hollowed, your hereafter is to amend." *** Stiles is faced in this new world with someone he had been avoiding for a long time. Himself.  The Double Walker cannot survive where the Double Walker dwells *** Derek had an itch under his skin. There was something missing. He knew exactly what it was. Who it was. His regrets paraded themselves in a steady stream, and he had to watch as Stiles left time and time again, knowing it would be the only way to let the ley lines heal. That didn't make it hurt any less. Still, some part of Derek hoped.

Notes: I honestly just read the first part, but I thought I'd add the whole series so people know what they're getting into. The first part can be read as a stand alone, so if anyone wants to stop after that they absolutely can. The fic itself is a bit sad, but it has a happy ending! Stiles travels to another dimension, and shenanigans follow. The series is complete.

[siriusleee]

Like Blood on Iron | 3

Historical Executioner AU

Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

Warnings: mentions of blood, family dynamics, semi-forced marriage mention, implied age gap, future smut, future blood and gore.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: This chapter was getting so hefty I had to cut it in half; the next chapter is so drama filled.

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 4

"Is this the smallest we can get her waist?"

You grimace as the seamstress pulls harder on the corset lacing, your hands trying to find some purchase underneath the boning to keep some breath in you.

"I think," you gasp out, pulling at the neckline where it digs into your chest, "that if we pull any tighter, I'll faint before I can make it down the aisle."

You intended for the words to come out dripping in irritation, sardonic, and cutting, but instead, they come out breathless. Behind you, the seamstress, an old woman who's probably made every dress in town for the past hundred years, chuckles before sticking a pin at the small of your back. 

"She is a beautiful girl," the seamstress says through a mouthful of pins, "it doesn't matter how small her waist is - it won't cancel the wedding." 

If only . You scowl at yourself in the mirror, skirts billowing out around you. You look ridiculous, your hair haphazardly piled on top of your head, the beginnings of a wedding dress pinned to you. You've been here for hours, stripped and measured, compiled and put back together. The heavy white brocade Mother picked out draped on you this way and that until she and the seamstress found it falling in a way they liked. 

Sweat beads and drips down your neck, the hair that's touching you is drenched. Mother comes behind you and wipes at your chest with a cloth.

"Why are you sweating so much?"

"It's hot underneath all of this fabric," you protest, fanning yourself with your hands. "I'm tired, my feet hurt and this is like torture." 

Mother studies your face, no doubt seeing the dark circles underneath your eyes. You know she's wondering what you're doing at night - if you had left the night before, but she doesn't say anything, her tongue sticks out just faintly from the corner of her mouth; a sign you know is her trying not to say anything.

The seamstress taps the back of your thigh as she stands, her back cracking from the struggle.

"Here you can sit on this stool. Careful - I don't need you sticking yourself and getting blood everywhere."

You lower yourself, knees aching from the scrapes and bruises you'd gotten the night before. You'd seen the way the seamstress and Mother looked at them when you had to strip down, saw the way their eyes cut to each other, and the way they bit their tongue. But you'd gotten them scampering across the new ship Uncle Henry had talked about. It had sailed into the port three days ago unexpectedly. Uncle Henry had been sick, Father said tense from his spot standing behind a dinner table; they'd needed to come back quickly for medical treatment. Maggie and Lily had offered to go see him, to take something to make him feel better but Mother had cut them off. 

The entire conversation had been odd to you - the way Mother had cut off Lily and Maggie's kindness so quickly, the way Father had gone right when he left the house that night, whispering that he was going to check on Uncle Henry when the doctor's house is left. You'd spent two nights in the house, watching for Ghost's figure to appear at the end of the street, a tell-tale sign that he was open to some conversation for the night. Last night you'd gotten tired of waiting to see Ghost and tired of trying to eavesdrop on a conversation between Mother and Father that never seemed to be coming.

Once night had laid across the village, dark and muffled, you'd pulled a pair of father's old paints and a worn-out tunic from underneath your bed - you'd smuggled them both with the pretense of stitching up a hole for Father. It'd been easier to leave since Mother's ultimatum - Lily had been moved into Maggie's room and no one questioned your coming and going. But you knew if anyone caught you in men's clothing, the questions would be too much. So you'd dressed quickly and shoved your hair down the back of the tunic to try to hide its length and crept down the trellis.

You'd expected it to be difficult, to creep onto the ship. But it had been empty, all the usual night watch lanterns extinguished as it rolled lazily in the bay waves. You didn't know much about ships, you'd never paid attention to Father and Uncle's ship talks like Maggie, but you could see the differences Uncle had been talking about. This one was much smaller and sleeker than the ships that were usually docked there. Creeping on had been easier too - it was nearly abandoned. 

You'd been hoping to overhear some drunken conversation, something that could give a hint to what was really going on with Uncle Henry, but no one was there. You'd tripped across a coiled rope, hidden in the deep shadows, and laid there, waiting for someone to hear and come shouting. But no one came. So you'd crept back home with more questions than answers. 

And this morning Father was gone, absent from his usual place of breakfast. In your whole life, you could only count on the days he was gone at sea for him to be absent from breakfast and once he'd started having enough people to sail in his place and could stay home, he'd never missed breakfast. Before you could snoop anymore, Mother had swept you out of the house and to the seamstress. 

While you sit, the seamstress runs a measuring tape down your arms, around your wrist, and elbows. She wraps it gently around your neck - each measurement committed to her memory, iron even in her old age. Finally, after running it down your spine and adding another needle, the sharp metal cold as it touches your skin, she tells you to stand up. Her fingers pull each piece of pinned fabric deftly off of you, the pin's edges barely scraping your skin as she strips you layer by layer until you're nearly naked again. 

Mother hands you your dress - a simple blue one made to easily come off for the seamstress, and you slip it over your head, fingers working at the laces at the front to tie it back together. You're almost finished tying when the church bell tolls, but it's not the hour. The three of you freeze, counting the out-of-time tolls.

One.

Two.

Three.

You hold your breath, waiting to see if it will toll again. Three tolls mean an emergency at the port but - 

Four .

- means a council meeting, an emergency execution. Execution without trial. Mother's hands rest on the door, and before the fourth toll is dissipated in the air, she pushes the door open and rushes out, leaving you in her wake. You thank the seamstress quickly and rush out after Mother. She's running, skirts bunched in her hands - something you've never seen her do. Even in the most tense moments, she's always walked calmly, a believer that overreaction can only make situations worse. The sight of her running towards the house twists something inside of you, and you take off after her, tripping slightly over the rough edge of your skirt, your hair whipping you in the face. 

You slam into the front door of your house, as it swings shut behind Mother - it sends a shockwave through your wrists. Inside it's a frenzy, the dining room looks as if it's exploded. You can just see Maggie holding Lily as men, men you recognize as members of the council scream across the table at each other, Father's booming voice - a voice you only remember hearing like this yelling at sailors who did something dangerous and once at you when he caught you trying to sneak onto his ships - shouts over all of them. But you can't make out what he's saying as you push through their bodies, reaching for Maggie and Lily across the war being waged across the dining table. 

Maggie pushes Lily to you; you grab her wrist and pull her out of the room, Maggie following closely behind. You shove Lily towards the steps, yelling at her to go upstairs. Her skirts sweep the stairs as she runs; you turn your attention to Maggie, her face so pale she looks ill.

"What is happening?" You ask Maggie, pulling her in towards the wall, far enough away from the dining room that the two of you can't be seen by the council but close enough to hear them.

"I don't know. They were all in the yard arguing with Father and when the bell tolled they all came in yelling at each other I don't-"

She's cut off by a roar from Father, finally louder than all the other men in the room.

"You will not come into my house and threaten me!"

You can never remember a time when your father yelled like that in your life. Not when he caught you smuggled away on one of his ships, not when Maggie pushed you from the second story down the stairs, not when you refused a marriage over and over. 

"Come on, we need to go upstairs," Maggie says, voice hoarse as she pushes you towards the staircase. You trip up it, falling up the stairs with Maggie until the two of you are crouched down at the top, peering down at the men in the front. For a moment, you flashback to the two of you being little, laying on your bellies to hear the conversations you were banished from.

Mother pushes past the two of you, not stopping to chastise the two of you for laying down at the top of the stairs. Her skirts fill the stairs as she rushes down; the men push out of the dining room and into the foyer. 

"He is my brother, and if you think I will condemn him to that bastard's sword you are wrong!"

"Bastard's sword?" Maggie whispers, shooting a look to you that you can't decipher. She goes to open her mouth again, but she's cut off by the front door slamming shut, and the tell-tale sound of Father's boots on the bottom of the stairs. Maggie's hands are on your back pushing you into your bedroom. The door shut behind the two of you before Father's steps breach the top of the stairs. 

Maggie whirls to you as the door shuts - eyes wide.

"Uncle Henry is being executed?"

"No," your voice stumbles, thinking of the sword in Ghost's hand, swinging down on Uncle Henry; Uncle Henry who used to pick you up swing you around, Uncle Henry who used to tell you you'd make a wonderful sailor.

"Why would he be being executed?" Your voice shakes in the stillness of the room while you cross the room and push open the window. "What could he have done that could warrant an execution?"

"It has to do with that ship," Maggie says, pacing around the room like a trapped cat. 

"It was empty last night," you admit, watching the men as they file out of your house, sweat beading off of them.

"What do you mean empty?"

"I," you pull back in the window as one of the men looks up at you, "I heard Mother and Father talking strangely about Uncle Henry and I was bored. Anyway, I snuck out to the ship last night and no one was there."

"There had to have been someone there." Maggie contests, hands wringing together.

"No - it was like a ghost ship."

You sink onto the bed, skin erupting in a clammy sweat. The house is silent - more silent than you've ever heard it before.

"You need to ask your friend not to do it."

A sliver of ice runs through your stomach and you freeze, hands pausing where they were picking at a loose thread in your skirt. You wait for just a pause too long before answering, your guilt bleeding through the cracks in the conversation.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

When your eyes meet Maggie's, hers are sharp - sticking you to the bed so that you can't move. 

"I've seen you," she explains, "at night. You think no one can see you because it's dark outside, that no one is looking. But I am."

You rise, eyes never leaving hers, hands gripping the bedpost. Maggie's back is board straight, her hands folded nicely in front of her like she's not speaking about a secret that could ruin your life. 

"Why haven't you said anything yet?" You're breathless, mind already whirring to what you'll do when Mother and Father find out.

"I haven't needed to yet."

The unspoken words cut through the undercurrent: but I will when I need to .

"I can't change anything. He won't listen to me about this."

"He's our uncle ," Maggie pleads with you, crossing the room in two strides. "We have to try something."

A horrible thought flashes across your mind. 

"What could Uncle Henry have done to deserve this?" You wonder out loud. You know, by the way, Maggie looks into your eyes that she's thinking the same thing. Neither of you speaks out loud the horrible thought that he might deserve it.

Father left when the other council members did, and hadn't come home yet. Mother didn't tell any of you to go to bed that night, and you, Lily, and Maggie sat in front of the fireplace as the sunset. You wait until the street is empty before standing; Maggie keeps her attention on the fireplace, watching the way the fire pours across the logs. But Lily snaps to you.

"Where are you going?"

You ignore her as you tie your hair back.

She repeats herself, this time half standing from the chair she'd sat in for hours, but Maggie reaches over to her and presses on her shoulder to force her to sit down.

"I'll be back later Lily. You need to go to bed. It's late."

"I don't want to go to bed, I want-", her voice rises in pitch until Maggie cuts her off.

"Stop Lily. She's right - you need to go to bed."

But Lily doesn't listen. She follows you to the front door where you shrug on your cloak, a heavier one pulled out of the closet for the chill that's started cutting through the nights you spend with Ghost.

You leave her at the door before she can ask you another question.

The way to Ghost's is empty, but you can hear people talking around each corner - no doubt gossiping at the news of Uncle Henry's execution and what he could have done. No one but rapists and thieves had been executed in a long while; it turned your stomach to think of Uncle Henry committing such crimes. 

The dirt path to his house is cut up, fresh dirt turned over from horses coming back and forth all day. You think of Father coming out here today; did he beg Ghost for Uncle Henry's life?

That's the thought that sits with you when you rap on Ghost's door. He opens it before you can knock twice, his body filling the doorframe.

The words die in your throat. The skin around his eyes is sunken, the circles so dark they look black. He's slumped against the doorframe; you can only imagine the exhaustion he feels.

"If you are here to beg for his life you're wasting your breath. Your father already tried. It's done."

His voice is rough, ragged - like he's been yelling and arguing. And facing the pack of men who had been in your house today, he probably has been.

"I-I had been coming here to do that."

Ghost levels a look at you, one you've come to know means he's studying you, trying to think of the words to say back to you. But he doesn't say anything, just pushes himself away from the doorframe and walks back towards the inside. He leaves the door wide open for you, a silent invitation to come in.

So you follow him inside. It's warm, almost too warm, and small. The table sits in the middle of the room, with a fireplace on one side and a small kitchen on the other. There's a door in the back corner, his boots propped beside it. You look down at him and almost smile at the sight of his bare feet on the wooden floor. 

Ghost collapses into one of the chairs surrounding the table, a glass of something dark brown in front of him. You don't hesitate to sit across from him.

"You have to at least tell me what the charges are," you start, pulling the tie of your cloak around your neck, trying to get rid of the feeling of it choking you. "My mother and father refuse to say. They're scared that if they say what the charges are then they have to admit they're true."

Ghost studies the contents of his glass carefully, fingers tracing the rims. You don't want to push him; you've had enough late-night walks with him to know that if you do he'll leave. But your knee bounces all the same. When he finally speaks, the words are slow, measured. 

"Your Uncle got caught by one of the King's ships. They needed supplies, so they boarded your Uncle's ship and when they searched it they found people below deck. Mostly women. Your Uncle intended to take these women to some of our neighbors, and sell them off as slaves."

Your heart quickens - leaning forward you press your hands down on the table, it wobbles beneath you.

"You're lying to me."

"Ask your father about that."

It's like a bolt of lighting runs through you, the implications of his words. Ghost swirls his glass lazily - tired and you wonder if he's wanting you to go away so that he can drink it. 

"My father would know nothing about this." You know your father isn't perfect, but you can't imagine that he would know anything about Uncle Henry using slave ships. 

"And that's why he came here earlier to beg for me to make sure that your Uncle doesn't say anything about your father?" His voice is cutting as he pushes himself away from the table, glass in hand. He turns away from you and you watch as he pulls his mask down just enough to take a drink.

"My father-"

"Knew what your Uncle was doing and doesn't want to be put to death by my hands because that would bring even more shame on your family; it would ruin you and your sister's weddings."

The mask is askew when he turns back, the edge of a jagged scar on his right cheek peeks at you from the edge of the black fabric. Ghost doesn't speak to you as he pulls the curtain back from the window in his kitchen, eyes scanning the edge of the woods.

"You need to go home. No doubt some member of the council will be here again; the last thing your family wants is for you to be caught here with me."

"Ghost I-"

"Go. Home."

For the first time since you'd first caught him staring at you on the beach, a shiver of fear runs down your spine at the roughness in Ghost's voice, at the sharpness in his eyes. He notices the way you tense, the way you pull yourself back in your chair away from him, and his gaze softens. 

"I'm sorry I can't help you. But you need to go home."

He waits for you to move, his fingers poised on the front door, ready to open it for you. On weak knees, you push yourself up; you refuse to look at him as you pass, not wanting him to see the way your eyes water as you walk past. He pushes the door open for you; you feel his warmth as he steps closer to you as you walk through the threshold. 

Your foot hits the ground when Ghost calls your name lightly. You half turn towards him, enough to see the way his hands grip the door frame and you imagine the wood groaning beneath them.

"Yes, Ghost?"

You hear the sharp staccato of him swallowing once. 

"Don't watch tomorrow if you don't have to."

He doesn't wait for you to reply before he lets the door swing shut in your face. 

tag list: @silverianni, @milfs4lifee, @koi-feish, @shirabeastly, @pookie90, @ghostlythot, @hearts4sky, @crystallizedtime, @the-worlds-tempest, @myconglomerateromance, @elena-ph, @chaoticgoblindev, @pipocfamily, @canadianmilkbag, @caspertheassholeghost, @2512121morningstar, @glitterypirateduck, @elli0t3r, @clairdelunelove, @captainprice4life, @generaldestinychild, @crowsjourney, @c0pernicus, @wistfullyhypomanic, @arbesa-mind, @ray-rook, @daisyfrubies, @september-22-1996,

Comment if you'd like to be added to the tag list; if I'm unable to tag you I will tag you in a comment below.

[esther-dot]

[I posted a list of SEASON 6 AUS before but these are book verse]

the cold inside our bones 2k @xylodemon (just have to point out that this was posted in 2012)

The Wall is no place for a woman, but Jon looks at Sansa's gaunt cheeks and hollow eyes and knows he will not send her away.

we're a different kind of same 3k by @jonsaslove

"I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will” Or; Sansa flees the Vale. Jon retakes Winterfell. When they meet again, they are changed.

Varg-hamr/Wolf-skin 1k by @cappymightwrite

hamr: the ‘shell’ or ‘shape’ of a person — the physical body, a state that can alter. hugr: what a person really is — the absolute essence, that which can leave the hamr behind. (Or, Jon in the body of Ghost, coming across a girl in grey fleeing north, along the east side of Long Lake...)

Pearls of Water ficlet by fedonciadale

Someone wakes up in Castle Black.

Saw You In The Snow 1k by @theemberalchemist

Sansa used the last of her strength to crawl to the foot of the tree, placing her head on its roots like she would lay on her mother's lap lifetimes ago. She could die here, perhaps, in the halo and ghost of her mother's warmth. Her mind drifting to gentle hands pressing against her head, tucking her hair back, humming a sweet song Sansa knew all the words to.

tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme 1k by @hoaryoldbitch

Satin averts his eyes and all around her bodies shift and uncomfortable looks are exchanged. Something akin to fear grips her and automatically she reaches out. Ghost is right there beside her. She wraps her arms around him and buries her fingers in his fur, kissing the top of his head. A buzzing of whispers and hisses arises around her, but one man bursts into a loud and booming laugh. He's tall and burly with reddish hair and a rusty beard. "Is this the beast you've all been afraid of? The pretty little lady tamed the ferocious wolf with a touch of her hand," he snorts, before walking toward Sansa in long strides. Brienne tenses up beside her. "I'll take ye to Lord Snow, lass."

In the darkest night, a song so sweet 2k

The Lord Commander stood atop the Wall and watched as the girl in grey came riding north, her army at her back.

old timber to new fires 27k by @setnet

When Alayne Stone hears word of the marriage of Arya Stark to the Bastard of the Dreadfort, it prompts her to leave the dubious safety of the Vale and set out on a dangerous journey north to Sansa Stark's homeland and her last remaining relative. But home is not safe. Winterfell is burned and broken, the Baratheon King and the Northern Lords are fighting to influence the future of the realm, the dead are stirring... and the old gods of the North are not half gods, worshipped in wine and flowers; they require blood.

And From the Ruins 15k by @thewolvescalledmehome

After awaking, Jon Snow's sole focus is trying to get his sister back. Alayne Stone is trying to survive the Vale. After an accident, she's forced to flee.

Stay With Me 5k

As her eyes shut, probably forever, Sansa Stark thought of one last thing: Jon. Then everything went pitch black.

now we're dead roses 22k

From Ghost’s eyes, he saw a lone, grey horse racing south. On the back of the courser mounted a girl. He could hear her breaths come out in little hitches and gasps as she grasped with all her might to the reins. Ghost chased after her, sprinting fast and nimble on his feet. She was a delicate little thing. Like a breeze could throw her off the horse. Her back shook as she stifled her sobs. Ghost followed on the horse’s rear, eyes sharp on the hooded figure. She must have sensed him behind her because she turned around and suddenly-- Jon woke up with an impossible name on his tongue.

a wind with a wolf's head 13k, WIP by @branwendaughterofllyr

The cold numbed everything. From her nose, to her fingers, to the breath in her lungs, the cold froze and stiffened. Sansa shoved her cloak up around her face and tucked her free hand under her arm. The grey cloth billowed and faded into the darkening twilight as the wind tore at her. Somewhere, a wolf howled, but Sansa was not sure if it was in her mind or not. A ghost wolf, she told herself and pressed on.

Art: The Girl in Grey and Jon's Resurrection by @palominojacoby, The Girl in Grey by @jonsawilldanceanon, The Girl in Grey by @thetullystark , The Girl in Grey by @ozzy698 , The Girl in Grey by @cute-poison20102014, Jonsa Reunion by knightmarescape, Forehead Kiss by colleendoodle, Jonsa Hug by CristianaLeone, Forehead Kiss by rosenroot

PRE CANON - WESTERN - REGENCY - FAIRYTALE - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS

[frozenjokes]

a new player enters the mumbomaid au. uh. merlabs. he’s a little bit cursed thanks to joel but that’s okay. (his hair should be longer but whatever)

uhhhh snippet? Probably doesn’t make much sense out of context but I don’t care. The next chapter is pretty dense

***

When the human burst through the clearing, it didn’t even notice the two mermaids, instead hunching over its knees with heaving breaths, so ragged they almost sounded like growls. Mumbo was entirely tense from fingers to tail tip, fins on end and quivering, while Ghost looked little more than bored, or maybe just pained, it was difficult to tell with fins so lax.

“Got your bloody clothes, Etho, christ, you didn’t make it easy to find you. Couldn’t have gone anywhere else huh?” The human tossed the bag off its back and into the sand, “This is a nice location though, for the future,” it mumbled, “Close to the river. Lots of options.”

It didn’t even look up as it shed some of its clothes, stumbling toward the water with a distinctly unsettling gait, legs shaking almost violently- was it sick? Either way, Mumbo didn’t want it anywhere near him. He spat a long, rattling hiss, satisfied as the human fell back into the sand, eyes wide enough for Mumbo to see in his half-blind state. It was a similar size to Grian, smaller without most of its clothes, with long, almost matted looking hair. Beside him, Ghost made an odd noise, almost reminiscent of a human laugh. Clearly they were getting sicker by the moment, no, no, Mumbo wouldn’t let this human anywhere close, not when Ghost couldn’t defend themself.

“Etho!” the human squeaked, shuffling back on uncoordinated limbs, “Who is this? Tell ‘im off! Tell ‘im off!” Something like slits across its neck and chest flared, reminiscent of gills. Odd jewelry, maybe? Did human paint move across their bodies? Well, regardless, Mumbo did not appreciate being yelled at, so he snaked closer to the water’s edge, rearing up with another defensive hiss.

‘Sorry, no speak- ah- human?’ Ghost whistled, rolling over somewhat pathetically, and the human screeched, kicking up sand in Mumbo’s direction, which, honestly, not a great choice.

“Not funny! Not funny!”

“Maybe not,” Etho spoke in human, and Mumbo nearly jumped out of his skin, reeling on them with wide eyes. “But I do wish someone would bite you.” They paused, turning back to Mumbo, ‘Don’t bite it, please.’

[writerpetals]

before dawn | 🔞

; optional male lead smut |  ☁️

// royal!au, a little angsty

There was no excuse for you to have such strong feelings for the Prince. You were only supposed to be a servant, bound by a contract to do as he wished, and when you agreed to work for the palace under his command, you thought nothing of scrubbing a few floors or washing his linens in return for a place to sleep and a hot meal. However, you never would have guessed in just a matter of months he would become so head over heels that you would have him wrapped around your finger at just a chance to feel your body against his.

“Did anyone spot you entering this wing of the palace?”

Even if it meant sneaking behind backs and hiding behind closed doors in fear of getting caught.

“I’m your servant,” you sigh, from his paranoia as well as his lips against your neck. “If anyone were to spot me, I have a good excuse for being with you.”

“After midnight, though?” The raspiness in his voice as it deepens when he speaks against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, coursing through every inch of your body and only strengthens when his hands find your hips. Lowering to your thighs, he pushes your servant’s attire of a black lace skirt higher up your thighs, fingertips ghosting over your flesh to form well-deserved goosebumps.

Your back pressed to the red, satin bed sheets as he finds comfort between your legs is nothing out of the ordinary, yet both of your worries always seem to rise as thoughts of someone finding out never fail to cross your mind.

“You’re the one that requested me to see you,” you remind him, “even though you have a meeting with your future bride in the morning.”

Sneaking off to see him in his sleeping quarters in the middle of the night is risky enough, yet knowing he is expected to wed a princess from a country close enough to your own makes matters all the more dangerous. However, his dissatisfaction in the arrangement could not be more evident in the way he groans at the reminder between kisses to your jaw.

“They can plan as many marriages for me as they want,” he begins, fingers clutching your thighs while his lips graze your skin to have soft whimpers spilling from your lips, “I’ll never care about them half as much as I care about you. It’s not that princess wishes to marry me, either.”

“Doesn’t matter to them if either of you care or not,” you say, words hitting his ears in a whimper as your fingers clutch his bare shoulders. He always wore too little to bed, making it easy when you decided to sneak in to see him. “You’re the prince. You have duties to fulfill.”

“Maybe so,” he huffs, hinting at the irritation filling him at only having a conversation about it, “but right now all I can think about is you.”

With that, he rolls onto his back, tugging on your waist to pull you closer before you straddle him, a leg on each side, your body pressing to his own.

“If anyone were to find out…” Your words fall short, already having spoken them several times. Fingers brush loose strands of black hair from his eyes while peering down at him, lip bitten, eyes sparkling with desire.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he teases with a smirk of his beautiful, pink lips, causing your heart to beat twice as fast. He’s confident you’ll keep the secret between the two of you, just like you have for months. Just like you always will, because there’s no turning your back on him when you care just as much, and there’s no denying him what he wants, either. “Forget all that. Forget it all and just be with me here, tonight.”

As he speaks, his hands find purchase on your hips to begin guiding you to move. You obey, beginning to press your aching center against his thigh with muscles tensed beneath you. You can feel how on edge he is in his every word and motion, rolling your hips against him as a whimper of his name escapes you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he encourages, eyelids fluttering as he raises his hands to tug on the sleeves of your dress. In one, simple motion the thin fabric falls, exposing your bare chest for him to take in with a deep groan. “Beautiful.” He exhales the word, as if it’s the first time he’s laid his eyes on you, even if the two of you lost count long ago.

His name slips from your lips the moment his palms press to your breasts, sensitive nipples hardening beneath his touch as your motions over his thigh increase. You feel yourself growing hot, needy, aroused, dripping into his silk garments even through your panties, making the tension all the more electrifying. “Feels… so-so good.” You can hardly speak, eyes closing, head falling back, jaw slacking and it’s all you can do to keep your moans to a minimum. The fear of getting caught still weighs on your mind, but with your throbbing clit pressing to his thigh as you ride him, the worries diminish faster than they can build.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he groans, thumbs teasing your breasts just to hear you whimper, “come for me.”

At his command, your pace quickens, becoming lost to his voice as the world drowns out around you. Your moans pour from your lips louder than before, but you have a hard time caring as the bliss swells within you. Arousal drips from your slit to coat his flesh beneath you, soaking through fabrics yet the friction remains while the pleasure rises.

With his grip tightening against your body, nails digging into skin to leave crescent-shaped marks of ecstasy, your body trembles against him before doubling over. Hands press to his chest to steady yourself once the pleasure begins to overwhelm you. You call out his name, again and again between desperate whimpers and gasps and moans, thighs tightening around him as you ride out the bliss against him, dripping and coming and you don’t slow your pace until the first wave washes over you, causing you to grow weak.

You relax against him, quivering, whimpering, feeling his arms wrap around your back as you lay chest to chest while trying to regain your strength. He eases you down from your high with slow circles of his fingertips against your skin, lips pressing to your forehead until you gather the energy to raise your head and peer up at him.

“Tired already?” He smirks a moment before easing your body onto the bed next to him, taking it upon himself to return to his position between your still trembling thighs. Gasping, you feel his arousal press to your soaked slit, and from his groan you realize that, even through your panties, he can feel it as well. “I’m far from done with you,” he says, a hint of teasing in his tone as he tugs the servant’s outfit from your body to toss aside.

“Oh?” you ask with a raised brow, though you remain too weak from his pleasure to return the taunts.

“After all,” he begins, lips meeting your bare chest between words as your back arches from the bed, “this might be my last night with you.”

And the words leave a certain ache in your heart that only grows with the thought of having no more nights like the current one. Where you will give yourself to him and he will give his all to you, and in the morning you will sneak out before dawn so no one but the two of you will ever know what you shared between you.

[hannahmanderr]

Supernova - Prologue

Read on AO3

Summary: The Ghost Zone is tearing itself apart. The instability threatens the future of both Earth and the Infinite Realms. Danny isn't exactly thrilled that for some reason, the responsibility to restore balance falls on him. And he's definitely not thrilled at the prospect of having to use the Ring and the Crown to do so. (Ghost King AU)

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Contrary to popular belief, the Infinite Realms do have a center. Not a physical center, to say, but a center nonetheless.

It is from this center that a shudder rippled across the Realms.

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Of all the ghosts to notice the shudder, Sydney Poindexter was the first.

“Wowza!” He shook out his head and his shoulders. “That meatloaf just goes right through ya, huh?”

He didn’t notice how the ectoplasmic construct of Casper High and its students flickered violently for the briefest of moments.

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

Skulker grinned as the pegasus he had his sights set on inched closer to the trap he’d laid out. “That’s it, just a little more,” he said, not daring to speak above a whisper. He’d been hunting this particular pegasus for nearly three weeks now, and each time he’d gotten close, it’d slipped out of his grasp.

Today would be different.

The pegasus’ nose flared as it sniffed the fiery flowers he’d set up as a food bait. He tensed in anticipation. So close now, just a couple feet further…

The shudder tore through the Badlands.

Skulker, caught off-guard, stumbled backwards as it passed through him. The pegasus whinnied in fear and bolted away.

For a moment, he could only sit there in stunned silence, not even caring that he’d just lost his quarry again. “What in blazes…?”

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A yeti barreled into Frostbite’s cave, gasping his name. 

Frostbite was already standing. “Gruefang,” he said. “I take it you felt it as well?”

“Yes, Chief,” Gruefang nodded. “Even the young felt it, and you know their bodies are not as in tune with the environment.”

The look on Frostbite’s face was grave, completely unlike his ironically warm demeanor. “Then it may be worse than I feared.”

In three quick strides, he crossed the cavern and opened a chest to pull out two scrolls. One was small and blank; the other was much larger, much more weathered, and detailed on both sides with drawings of islands, doors, portals, and other landmarks.

“The Infi-Map?” Gruefang asked, peering over Frostbite’s shoulder. “What do you intend to do with it?”

“Summon Fleetfloe,” Frostbite instructed. He unrolled the blank scroll and began to write on it with a claw dipped in ink. “Tell her I need her to carry a message to the Acropolis of Asphodel for me.”

“Of course, Chief. What is the message?”

Frostbite hastily finished scrawling his written message on the scroll, then rolled it back up and fastened it shut with a seal of ice. “This should have the relevant details,” he said, handing both it and the Infi-Map to Gruefang. “She should seek out the Lady Pandora and tell her… tell her I must know if Kilaris grows unstable. If it is as I suspect, then we cannot delay action any longer.”

Gruefang’s beady eyes grew wide. “Kilaris?” he whispered, as though saying the name any louder would cause it to shatter. “Are you certain?”

“... unfortunately so.” If possible, a heavier weight seemed to fall over Frostbite’s shoulders. “Go quickly. There is no time to waste.

“And… pray that I am wrong,” he added quietly as Gruefang sprinted out of the cave.

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

Clockwork’s tower was not immune to the shudder, either. The hundreds of clocks spread across Long Now each stumbled over a few misplaced seconds as the shudder washed over them. 

If Clockwork himself felt it pass through him, though, he did not show it. He simply kept his gaze fixed resolutely on the time window in front of him, showing Fleetfloe rapidly approaching the Acropolis. A sigh escaped him and echoed into the chorus of clocks that had resumed their ticking.

Everything was as it should be.

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

Vlad massaged his temple as he stormed into his City Hall office. The meeting with the head of the city council had been just as insufferable as he’d predicted - as these meetings always were.

Bureaucracy and its silly complexities. If he could, he’d choose to run Amity Park the same way he ran his businesses, with him as the ultimate decision maker. Things would just be so much simpler. 

He collapsed into his desk chair with a dramatic flourish. Barely 10:30 in the morning and he was already nursing a migraine. Splendid. 

Perhaps a pick-me-up was in order.

He rummaged in his desk - quite literally in his desk, he phased a hand into a hollowed out compartment he’d personally installed - and pulled out a silver flask. He popped off the cap and took a deep inhale of the green vapor that drifted out of the top. Yes, this blend of ectoplasmic supplements would work nicely to stimulate his ghost half’s healing.

He raised the flask in a sardonic toast to no one in particular. “Another day, yet another problem to solve,” he said in his driest voice.

He’d no sooner than put the flask to his lips when the shudder passed through him.

Acidic green liquid stained the rug as the flask fell from his grasp. The feeling that flooded Vlad took him back over twenty years, to before he’d even had his accident, when he and Jack had woken up with strong hangovers after crashing a party. His sudden nausea and the cloudiness in his head so strongly reminded him of that memory that he wondered briefly if he’d consumed too much wine at last night’s dinner party (an inane thought; his hybrid metabolism quite literally burned through alcohol).

The feeling only lasted for a few seconds before disappearing without a trace.

“Mayor Masters!” the secretary cried as she burst into the office. Vlad hurriedly nudged his overcoat off the back of his chair and kicked it into a heap over the stain of ectoplasm on the rug. “I heard a noise, are you alright?”

“Just fine, Marta,” he said through a thin smile. “I only dropped my phone.”

Her forehead crinkled. “I could’ve sworn I heard someone shouting in here.”

“Mm, no? It’s just me in here.”

“Huh.” Marta did not seem completely satisfied with this answer, but she turned to leave anyway. “Alright, well… just let me know before you head out to that lunch interview. I’ll need to give you those files.” She walked away shaking her head muttering to herself.

It wasn’t until the door clicked into place that Vlad relaxed, but only marginally. There was no telling what that feeling had truly been, and he did not like not knowing things.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. There was one thing he knew for certain. 

Whatever it had been, it had most definitely been ghost related, and he suspected he knew exactly what had caused it. Still, there was one person he probably needed to talk to in order to confirm his suspicions.

He pulled his personal cell phone out of his pocket and thumbed through his contacts. It didn’t take long to find the one he was looking for.

“... Ah, Jack! I’m so glad you picked up, I wanted to ask you something…”

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

The epicenter of the shudder and the center of the Infinite Realms, as it turns out, was located within a crumbling castle with nothing around it as far as the eye could see. 

Of course, the force of the shudder shook the castle. Not with any sort of violence, but just enough to knock a few pieces of stone rubble from the walls. One of those pieces of stone fell from the ceiling of the throne chamber. 

It fell and struck a coffin leaning against the throne.

A crack emerged.

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

“You’re so full of it. The Cruiser Gravity Rifle is a million times better at beating Sollix than the Titanium Crossbow.” 

Sam scoffed at Tucker’s claim. “Please. How long have you been playing DOOMED again? The Cruiser Gravity Rifle is so not worth the recharge cycle it goes through. You can get way more consistent damage with the Titanium Crossbow.”

“What do you mean it’s not worth the recharge cycle?” Tucker protested. “At least you can get off more than one shot before you have to reload!”

“You also realize Sollix is, like, the lowest level troll boss in the whole game, right? You don’t even need a heavy-hitter to beat him. I bet there’s even a melee weapon that works well with him.”

“That’s what I did,” Danny chimed in. “The Blood-Forged Silver Shortsword worked pretty well for me.”

“That doesn’t count, ‘cause you phased back into the game to avoid having to deal with the crappy melee mechanics,” Tucker said. He flopped onto the grass unceremoniously. “Say what you want, but at least I’m not a cheater.”

“Hey!” Danny let go of Sam’s sneaker long enough to smack Tucker. “It’s not cheating if it’s a game mechanic.”

“Okay, but is it a game mechanic?” Sam grunted. She couldn’t stand doing crunches and pushups and such. Cardio was definitely more her speed.

Danny shrugged. “It’s not a bug and they haven’t patched it, so I’d call it a game mechanic.”

“Dude, you can’t exactly patch out ghosts overshadowing the game.”

A shrill whistle echoed across the field. “Alright! That’s time!” Coach Tetslaff hollered from her spot on the sideline. “Fill in your sheet and rotate partners.”

Sam rolled off of the mat and laid spread-eagle on the grass. Yeah, she’d be feeling that in the morning. Just like her to try and show off in gym class. “How many, D?”

“83. Showoff.” He set the worksheet down and climbed onto the mat. “C’mon, Tuck, you’re holding for me.”

Tucker groaned dramatically, but got up onto his knees anyway. “Just so you know,” he said, giving Danny a pointed look, “I’m only doing this ‘cause I’m hot and you’re a walking AC unit.”

“Also ‘cause your mom said she’d have your head if your gym grade doesn’t get any better. Not to mention Tetslaff will ream you if you don’t. She’s still mad at you for that stunt you tried to pull last week,” Sam added helpfully, cheeky grin and all.

Tucker’s glare turned to her. “How was I supposed to know she’d actually call the fake number and check?”

Danny folded his arms behind his head. “Probably ‘cause she was suspicious in the first place. I mean, the crutches were a little much for a sprained ankle.”

“Mom’s a nurse, she’s given crutches to plenty of -”

Another short whistle sounded. “Come on, hustle!” Tetslaff called. “You all ready? Then get goin’! Two minutes!”

With a grunt, Danny started doing his crunches. Sam watched with mild interest. Sure, last year’s Presidential Fitness Exam hadn’t gone the best for him, but he could pull through when need be. And there was no denying his ghost powers offered him a bit of an advantage, even if it didn’t totally show while in human form. He’d knocked the self-defense unit out of the park, after all.

“I was saying that Mom’s given crutches to people with sprained ankles before,” Tucker said. 

“Yeah? And how many is that?” Sam figured she didn’t need to know the exact number to know the answer.

His face flushed red. “I don’t - well, you know… she can’t tell me ‘cause of hippo,” he said, finishing with a smug smile. The uncertainty behind his eyes was way too obvious, though.

Sam gave him a look of disbelief. “Are you for real? Your mom is a nurse and you don’t even know it’s called HIPAA?”

“... Hippo, HIPAA, to-may-to, to-mah-to. Besides, I -” he cut off abruptly and looked down with a frown. “Uh, Danny? You okay dude?”

Sam glanced over to see Danny had stopped his crunches and was now sitting up with his hands held tightly over his sternum. All the color had drained from his face, and there was a noticeable drop in the temperature. 

Immediately, her internal alarms started blaring. She bolted upright. “Is it your ghost sense?” she asked, but she again suspected she knew the answer.

His mouth opened and closed a few times. “I don’t… I…” His brows furrowed, and he stared fixedly at Tucker’s chest, though his gaze was unfocused and glassy. “I… think something - something’s…”

Tucker reached for Danny’s water bottle. “Do you need your - oh, what the f-”

Green liquid funneled out of the top of the water bottle and slowly drifted aimlessly around Danny in little tendrils. Sam watched with wide eyes. Sure, she’d seen a lot of weird stuff since Danny had become half-ghost (a lot of weird stuff), but ectoplasm… It had never done this around him before.

Danny didn’t even seem to notice. He just continued to stare at the same spot, even as his eyes began to burn Phantom green. 

Then, just as suddenly as it had escalated, the floating ectoplasm stopped and fell to the ground, splashing all over the mat and the grass.

Before Sam could react, Danny leaned over and promptly threw up.

[brokenpieces-72]

Taskforce 141!ganster au x reader

Old Bed

This is part 5. Leave a comment if you want to be tagged in future posts. Navigation

The air is tense and well no shit. You weren’t expecting the hideout Kyle would take you to, would be the same one Simon and Johnny would be at. Before anyone could say anything else, Simon told you to follow him and take your shoes off first. You took off your shoes and set them aside before following him into a small hallway. Johnny kept an eye on you while you followed his boss. Gaz pat him on the back as he made his way to the couch.

“Set your stuff in the room there. Come back out, I’ll get you a drink.” He says walking away before you could reply. You step into the room, and find a small simple bedroom. Everything is neat, and you notice a photo on the nightstand next to the twin bed. You recognize it. It’s a photo of you and your father when you were younger. Was this your dad’s room at one point? There were a couple of times when your father didn’t come home until the early hours of the morning. You guessed maybe he stayed here for a bit. Something about the room, even with it being so plain made you feel safe. Like he was sitting with you on the bed, watching you going through your stuff. You pulled out a different hoodie, taking off your current one leaving it inside the jacket. You laid it on the bed, and looked at the mirror hanging on the wall by the small closet. Your arms were cover in bruises, that were easily visible with you in your tank top. The swelling in your eyes had gone down. Moving your arms, there was some pain but it was mainly just soreness. Nothing broken thankfully.

You come back out with your other hoodie and your beanie pulled down closer to your eye. You didn’t want to make a fuss. You find Kyle in a t-shirt and jeans, his jacket on the couch armrest. Simon notices you and jerks his head toward the group, gesturing you to join them. You notice Simon’s mask is over his nose and mouth, wearing lounge pants and long sleeved shirt. Soap takes another shot at the table, cursing under his breath, and leaning against his cue. Ripped jeans, and hoodie, making him less intimidating than he usually is. Not by much though. You step closer to the table but keep your hands in your pockets.

Ghost takes a shot himself, letting the silence remain and the tension grow. Gaz just stays on the couch watching you and Soap. Price told him shit was tense, but damn.

“You play?” Kyle asks, finally breaking the silence.

“Some. I’m okay at it.” You mumble just loud enough for him to understand.

“Liar.” Soap comments under his breath, taking a shot. Another sunk, only two other’s remaining and the 8. You go very quiet, letting the label sting. Kyle gives Soap a look of annoyance.

“He’s right. They’re better than okay.” Ghost says, leaning over and just missing the pocket making his ball bounce off into a worse position. “Better than Soap.”

“No less a liar.” You comment to yourself.

“You’re not a liar.” Soap says almost begrudgingly, walking around the table for a better angle. You look at him as he takes the shot and misses his ball.

“You sai-“

“I know what I said. You never lied though.” He says stepping back and standing next to you. “Secrets and lies… you never said you weren’ a cop. We knew your da and we guessed… just didna wanna be right.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can say in response. He was right, but the guilt remained. You felt he was owed at least that much.

“Oi love birds, quit the sap. Y/n mind making this shit for me.” Ghost says offering the cue. You take it, trying to think of it as how it was when you first got close to Soap. When you lean down ready to take the shot though, you wince. You try to hide it by shifting your position but that makes it worse. When you take the shot, you get it in the pocket but something in your shoulder audibly pops making you flinch.

“What’s wrong?” Johnny asks.

“Nothing, just sore.” You say brushing it off.

“Some cops jumped em.” Kyle mentions, while Ghost sinks the 8 ball. Johnny says something in Scottish, you can’t quite make out.

“I’m fine.” You say. Johnny takes off your beanie without warning.

“Sit on the couch, I’ll get you some painkillers.” Johnny says leaning the cue against the table. He sounds like a disappointed older brother. You sit on the couch next to Gaz. It’s surprisingly comfortable, and you feel some cracking from your bones. Good cracking. You can’t explain it but once again, you feel safe and relaxed. More safe than you’ve felt in your own apartment by yourself. Johnny gives you the painkiller.

“Why they turn?” Johnny asks leaning back against the pool table standing in front of you.

“Told them I wanted to be left alone. Hadn’t shown up for sometime, hadn’t done much for a week. They decided that maybe kicking my ass would bring you guys running to help me. Prove my worth to you guys. Just kept telling them to fuck off. That wasn’t enough.” You explain, taking the painkiller.

“Give us names, we’ll slash their tires.” Kyle offers.

“Pfft, not as much fun.” Johnny adds. “I say we just do what they did to Y/N.”

“And puts Y/N at risk. Right now, the police think they’re on the side of the law. Gaz you mentioned Graves coming out of their apartment?” Ghost asks, folding his arms and looking at Gaz. Gaz nods. You didn’t love Graves but the last thing you wanted was for him to get caught with the wrong people. The 141 guys were the right people for you, but not for Graves.

“He’s my dad’s friend.” You say quickly. “Checks up on me. I report to him.”

“You tell him anything about us?” Johnny asks. He gives you a hard serious look.

“No. Nothing incriminating.” You say.

“What did he say when you came in with all the bruises?” Gaz asks.

“Asked me what happened… sounded like he was worried but I don’t know.” You explain. They’re silent now, trying to figure out if Graves had something to do with it. They all knew Graves, the kind of man he was. Graves wasn’t a shit cop, but he wasn’t exactly clean either. Your father and Graves were partners, and in the force that meant something. But that night…

“Just told me to text him when I got somewhere safe. Told him I would stay the night somewhere else.” You say breaking the hard silence. “I texted him earlier when we parked, location is turned off.”

“Good. You best rest up, it’ll help you recover.” Ghost says. You don’t argue and get up going to your room.

The remaining three are quiet for a moment, not making eye contact, not talking, and hardly even moving. The night your father died, Graves was there. For a while they thought Graves might have done his partner in, but if so, why was he so hard on you. Why put you in the same place your father had been, and so close to himself? Graves was a hard ass but not cruel. They could all attest to that. Even Soap who’d been shot by him. For now only time would tell, but with the cops being more persistent, and more sketchy shit going on behind closed doors, something was up.

Laswell called Price that same night. He had just gotten home from the bar, and sat down to relax with some football.

“Turn on the news.” She ordered him.

“Why?” He asked, getting the remote anyways. When he turned on the tv his question was answered.

“No fucking way…” he muttered into the phone.

“We’ve got a big problem John.” Laswell comments watching the same news broadcast.

“Yeah, well… no shit.” Price replies.

The tv announced the return of the successful businessman and new chief police commissioner:

Vladimir Makarov.

@yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @H0n3y_L3m0n @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz

[jesimay]

Stealth force x TF 141

COD AU

COD X OC

No one was happy. When they got the news that they would be partnering up with a new team for this mission they all internally groaned. Each of them going to Captain Price later to question and complain. Just to be told that he didn’t have a say in the matter and they’d just have to deal with it.

“Look alive boys they’re almost here.” Laswells voice rang out as she walked up. Not two minutes later two SUV’s came through the gate. Everyone was tense and ready for anything.

The new team left the vehicle just as serious and cautious as TF 141. Their captain approached Price with an outstretched hand. “Captain Price. I’m Captain Danielson of stealth force.” He said Prive nodded and started to introduce his team. “This is Lieutenant Ghost. Sergeant Soap Mactavish. And Sergeant Kyle Garrick or Gaz.” He said pointing to each of them in turn.

Captain Danielson nodded and turned to introduce his team. “Lieutenant Crow. Sergeant Leo Paxton. And sergeant Jill Harper.” Each one nods as he says their names.

Soap snorts “Crow?” He asks before he can stop himself. Crow nods and grins. “Don’t like my first name.” She says simply shrugging. Gaz looks at her curiously. “What is it?” He asks and Crow smirks. “That is classified no one on my team except the captain even knows my first name.”

“It’s true we tried to find out one time and ended up cleaning all the bathrooms on base for three days.” Leo says grinning. Soap snorts but doesn’t say anything else.

“Right well there’s work to do so let’s get you all set up so we can get started.” Price says. Everyone nods and follows him towards the offices.

First time writing fan fiction lol. I hope it’s good. Going to turn this into a story. Would love constructive criticism and feedback as well as any ideas or suggestions! I’m hoping future parts are longer but I have to go to work lol.

[writing-time-bitches]

Let Us Depart// PLA au

I had thoughts and now i blab about them. Enjoy this prologue for a possible series ⚠️minor emetophobia warning

Masterlist// one

“Hark, man of steel serpents. I have a request of thou.”

Ingo, unable to move or even speak, stayed silent. The resounding voice rang almost painfully in his head, as if he were speaking with a ghost.

“Mine request is simple. Accompany the child and ensure their safety. Their safety is of utmost importance, as is yours, commander of serpents..”

‘Is it?’ Ingo couldn’t help but question. The voice chuckled warmly and he felt it’s warmth blanket his numb body. He realized he couldn’t see anything. It was all black, not even his owns callous hands he could catch sight of.

As if the void around him could hear his thoughts, light began to poke through before erupting in white. Blinking away the light spots in his vision his unadjusted eyes were welcomed by a sprawling field of pale pink roses and lavender flowers. A breeze picked up behind him, causing his long black coat to flutter against his calves. He felt a hand gently place itself on his shoulder.

Snapping his head to owner of the hand he saw a familiar face. Or at least, one that feels familiar. The man’s face was pulled into a small grin and he was clad in an white version of what Ingo himself wore. A long, heavy coat with rusty red accents over a black button up shirt and slacks, completed with a blue tie and white loafers.

How did he know what those clothes were called?

“I apologize if mine temporary form causes you shock. This is the one that seemed closest to your heart… I thought it best to use this one.” He said with a friendly smile, silver eyes glittering a faint gold in the center. Ingo felt his throat was unnecessarily dry,”…it’s alright..”

Closest to his heart? Ingo couldn’t help but sneak a look over the other again, studying the readable body language and seemingly permanent smile on his face. The longer he stared, the greater the feeling of deja vu; like he knows who this man’s real identity is but he couldn’t place his finger on it, it was at the tip of his tongue. Who was this? Who had the voice taken the form of, and just how close was he to Ingo?

The man tilted his head, swaying back and forth leisurely with an oddly worried crease to his brows and asked monotonously,”You don’t know who I mimic?”

Ingo blinked, caught off guard by the question,”Should I?”

The man in white’s eyes narrowed a fraction and he mumbled something garbled and uncomfortably foreign under his breath. He shook his head,”Perhaps the child will help you remember…”

“What child? You spoke of assisting my future passenger on their commute… who are they?” Ingo asked. If he were to do as asked he should be privy to more information about this seemingly important child.

But silence answered him before words,”I don’t know. I will know when I know, as of now… I’m sorry but I don’t know.”

Ingo’s frown deepened and his untrimmed eyebrows furrowed, scrutinizing the stranger beside him,”… you ask to watch over a child and yet don’t know what they look like or where they’re from?”

“Oh no, I do know where they are from. After all, it is the same as you.”

He froze,”… from the rift above Mt. Coronet?”

The man toothily smiled, a crooked and mischievous thing. It sent a dreading shiver down his spine for some reason,”The very same.”

Suddenly, Ingo’s stomach leapt to his throat and at the same time the world around him wavered, as if a stone had disturbed a puddle’s surface. Queasy beyond normality he clutched his stomach with heavy, trembling breaths and he slowly fell to the ground. The stranger’s smile turned into a tense line, one that he somehow knew to read as a frown,”It would seem our time is up.”

With a painful throbbing behind his eyes Ingo winced and closed his eyes tight, nausea growing worse. He could feel the world around shifting and break apart except for the warmth of the man next to him.

“I pray that thou heeds mine request. Truly, it is important to the vast fields of Hisui and the people who live there. It is also important to thou.”

‘What does that mean?’ he wanted to ask, but just pulling his lips back caused an overwhelming urge to vomit surge through his body. He gasped through the bitter nausea and felt something round and comfortingly warm poke into his spine,”Until we meet again, Ingo.”

“Now, awake from our dream and prepare for the child’s arrival. Stay alive.”

[aehyei]

MIDNIGHT WEDDING

pairing: boyfriend!njm x reader, genre: pure floof, established relationship!au, tw: uh drunk reader and drunk jaemin = chaos

AUHTOR’S NOTES : WHO’S EXCITED FOR AUGUST?? I KNOW I AM !! anyways this is just like somehow to ready you for a whole month of nana in 31 days and nights with na jawmin

JAEMIN WAS DRUNK. AND DRUNK JAEMIN WOULD MEAN STUBBORN, CLINGY JAEMIN.

So if he says that he wants to marry you now, expect to wake up with a wedding ring on your finger.

On usual days, you’d probably be the most sober one compared to your boyfriend as you didn’t really like drinking that much. But tonight’s different and special—Jaemin got a perfect on the project he had been stressing about! And like any normal thing to do, you both decided to celebrate inside your shared apartment. So by now, it’s clear you're both very, very, very drunk.

Again, if you didn’t jug alcohol for the past few hours, you would’ve pushed his face away and playfully rolled your eyes at his flirting. But right now, you just grinned and wrapped your arms around his neck, flirting back, “yes, handsome?”

Jaemin’s heart fluttered countless times that night, trying his best to aim and kiss your lips (although he still misses a lot). Then another random thought made him blabber out some incoherent words and finally some words that you could understand.

Jaemin’s heart fluttered countless times that night, trying his best to aim and kiss your lips (although he still misses a lot). Then another random thought made him blabber out some incoherent words and finally some words that you could understand.

“Let’s get married.”

You visibly froze, stiffening in his hold. Feeling your tensed body, his eyes widened and maybe he sobered a little when he started to scold himself for not keeping his thoughts to himself. “W-Wait—fuck—wait, I mean—”

“Jaemin?” You whispered, cutting him off, “let’s do it.”

You didn’t have to say it twice. You both planned to get married exactly by midnight, so Jaemin video called Mark and explained to him how he wanted to get married to you with eyes barely opened.

Mark was far from concerned, exchanging looks with Doyoung beside him. “Okay, let me try to get this straight: you’re both drunk and you want me to announce you husband and wife? Like dude, won’t any of you regret it by the next day?”

“Mwark!” You appear on the screen.

Mark and Doyoung screeches at the sight of you, accidentally dropping the phone. Taeyong and Haechan rush to the room in panic. “What’s going on?!” Taeyong asked, still alarmed, “I heard two girls scream. Have you guys been hiding girls here?”

“Shut up Taeyong.” Doyoung hisses and tries to remove your image in his mind. Mark gulped and took his phone, looking at you and Jaemin with widened eyes, “D-Dude, oh my god, you’re both actually serious.”

Haechan marched his way to the phone, rudely grabbing it away from his hold and choked out laughs, snorting in between. “Y-Y/n! W-Why the fuck do you look like a ghost bride!?”

And you do. It was clear you tried to wear make-up, but because of your wasted state and huge headache, the lipstick didn’t stay on your lips and the eyeliner looked like a mess. Jaemin scowled at him, covering your ears, “No! Back off you demon! My wife is a pwetty bwide!”

“...are they drunk?”

“Yesh.” You answer Taeyong.

“Just do it Mark, it'll be interesting in the morning. Oh and Hyuck, grab the camera. We gotta film this for future blackmail.” Doyoung snickers. Mark chuckles and settles the phone where the four boys could see. “Alright lovebirds, a wedding you want, a wedding you shall get.”

You and Jaemin did a fist bump and also angled the camera where it would capture the two of you, facing each other with lovesick gazes.

“I think I’m gonna be sick….” Haechan gagged a little. Taeyong slapped the younger man’s shoulder as a reminder to focus on recording the whole thing. Mark cleared his throat and started.

“Blah, blah, blah, will you Na Jaemin, take Y/n as your wedded wife?”

“I dW—”, Jaemin’s voice cracked, making you smile widely. He smiled too then proceeded to speak clearly, “I do.”

“And will you Y/n, take Na Jaemin as your wedded husband?”

“I do.” You say without hesitation, a little distracted with how the stars twinkled in Jaemin’s eyes.

“Then you may kiss the bri—”

Jaemin didn’t even let Mark finish his sentence. Instead, he jumped on you and finally succeeded in capturing your lips with his. The action caused the camera to fall on the floor. The kiss was passionate and full of love, neither of you had any plan of pulling away.

“Are they—”

“Jaemin—”

“End the call at least!”

“Let’s film this too—”

“No!” Doyoung, Mark, and Taeyong scream in unison, ending the call and launching on Haechan.

Perhaps the wedding that happened wasn’t ‘legal’. There were no wedding rings, no wedding gown—nothing except you, Jaemin, and the rest of the guys. It wasn’t perfect nor extra, but it was enough. Even if you and your boyfriend (husband?) wake up with the biggest headache in the morning, there would be no regrets.

[gammagoop]

here’s a kind-of-masterpost of the notes for my Last Life Fantasy AU !! i will add more to this in the future, but here’s what i’ve got now:

(its long so just click the read more)

General world notes:

Not really kingdoms since theres less than 20 people total but the various alliances do have castles/towers/homes of similar grandeur

There are fantastical creatures, but theyre not as common as normal animals, and none that the players come across are too extremely dangerous.

^ Except for the Wither! In which the Wither is a horrible decaying demonbeast that’s summoned by Grian

^ I’m thinking the typical Minecraft hostile mobs are replaced with things like kobolds and big rodents and . skeletons which ig are still the same

The Boogeyman is genuinely believed to be a curse in this world. No one quite knows where it comes from, but speculation ranges from ghosts to old magic to divine punishment

^ Those cursed by the Boogeyman become snappier, more on edge. There are no physical changes other than being visibly more tense, but it’s very hard to spot if you don’t know how to look for it

^ It’s also popularly believed that the curse will subtly enhance one’s strength and magical power, but also make them more vulnerable to attack

I haven’t decided if the members still have multiple lives, or if its more of an injury thing. I’m leaning toward the latter, in which someone is grievously injured in the place of dying (at least until the final death) because that also leaves room for life-giving to become healing magic. Perhaps one can only heal so many times before they become aggressive and combative in place of a red life? And different people are more or less vulnerable to that insanity

When I describe a person or group as ‘magical’ I mean that they can use magic at will. Any person can use magic if reading a spell that was written by a magic-user, but only some members can use magic without that. <— italics bc its important

^ The most common spells used by non-magic people are healing-related

^ Those with magical ability manifest it through instinct and will, rather than word-for-word spellcasting

Non-magic users can also use magical items, which are items enchanted by a magic user to perform a specific spell (ex. Scar’s crystals)

Fairy Fort/Shadow Alliance:

General:

Fae people. Generally humanoid-looking, if not for their pointed ears and shimmery skin. They have whimsical and nonpowerful magics

Primarily within a magically protected circle of dense trees, which is later burned down by Cleo after she’s betrayed

visually they are kind of 4 seasons coded… Lizzie being Spring, Bigb being Winter, Ren being Fall, and Cleo being Summer

Lizzie:

The strongest magic user of the group. Even so, she doesn’t use it to hurt people directly, more just for evasion and negotiation

BigB:

The boogeyman curse puts him much more on-edge than he normally is. He would have never thought he would kill a teammate, but the jitters and the pressure really got to him

Ren:

Can communicate with animals at a low level (not full conversations, just notions of instincts) due to his magical ties to dogs

Fiercely protective of Lizzie

^ Drawing on myths of fae: maybe he was once a dog himself but was transformed into a person by Lizzie?

Cleo:

Not quite a zombie but has ties to the dead. Generally just a green-skinned fae creature, but her injuries leave more prominent marks

The river over which they were betrayed is said to be cursed with Cleo’s blood

Team BEST:

General:

A team of knights who serve no crown. They serve each other and themselves, a tight but troubled group

This group has no magic users, but are the strongest in non-magical combat

They live in a castle which was once painted white, but has since faced some decay

They ride horses

Bdubs:

Doesn’t like to keep his helmet visor down because it obscures his vision. The visor gets torn off when he gets to his red life

Etho:

Wears a different style of armor from the rest of the team, both due to his own independence and his different fighting style

He prefers ranged combat to melee, meaning his armor is lighter and easier to move in

Skizz:

In the leadership role of this team, but by his own admission he’s not really their leader. He more just organizes plans and makes sure that everyone is on the same page

Highest in ‘rank’ and thus gets fancier armor. It’s not really stronger than any of his teammates’ but he gets a big feather on his helmet and a cape and some cool designs engraved in his armor :D

Tango:

Wears goggles instead of a helmet since he dabbles more in traps than combat. Pretty bad at melee anyway

Nonhuman but humanoid. Likely some infernal species? Not necessarily demonic, but he’s tied to heat and fire

Is more adept at performing spells as a non-magic user and therefore is always called on to heal Bdubs when he goes crazy (thanklessly)

Scottage/GGG:

General:

Wealthy in resources. Not magic users, but have access to various spells and magical items

More reserved than the other teams

Very skilled at less chaotic combat

Small but extravagant (artsy) castle

Pearl:

More combative than Scott

I gotta work the axolotls in somehow but I’m not quite sure how yet…

Scott:

Enjoys wearing more fancy outfits (cloak, gold accessories) but still relatively protected

Cleo:

Happily taken in my Pearl and Scott after leaving the fairy fort, wears much more armor then

Wears less extravagant accessories than Pearl or Scott

Magic Mountain:

General:

The most powerful magic users on the server (due to being wizards)

Not necessarily a team since they don’t work together much, but they have a wizard solidarity with each other

Live separately on the same mountain. Scar lives in a small-ish cobbly tower with lots of trinkets and hidden compartments. Joel lives in a cabin-like house within a small alcove in the mountain

Joel:

Visually more warlockish, but has no patron and therefore is a wizard. Uses his magic more directly and more aggressively than Scar– just replace all his traps in canon with spells (that mostly went wrong)

Not a very accurate magic user, but when he hits he hits hard

Evidence toward the theory that the Boogeyman curse makes you both more powerful and more volatile

Scar:

Rarely uses his magic directly, instead imbues his crystals with (often weak) spells for fun and profit

Is more of an accurate spellcaster than Joel is, but almost always uses his magic for selling and trading rather than attacking. He’s not great at combative spells anyway

Jellie as his familiar…………………thinkin about it

Southlands:

General:

Artisans and philosophers. Not as wealthy in resources as GGG, but they have a good amount at their disposal

^ Haughty A-HA!!!!!

Mostly unmagical, but it’s possible that Grian and Jimmy have some weak or dormant powers

Live in towers, similar to canon but more structural

Mumbo:

Artificer, proficient in small machines and automated farms

Martyn:

Philosopher who speculates on the nature of their world

Impulse:

Similar skills to Mumbo, but plays more of a diplomatic/negotiation role within the team

Builds larger farms and machines than Mumbo does

Jimmy:

Has a more peasant-ish outfit than his teammates

Proficient at building small devices like clocks and spyglasses

Grian:

More combative than his teammates

Astronomer, not as focused on that study as his teammates are on theirs

[https-furina]

"ghosts are for halloween!"

hu tao x gn!reader | modern!au, established relationship | 651 words notes. my second entry for ecrin's christmas event, managed to roll my main & wife (diluc was right next to her, he's really testing me) - i think this will be my format for all future works? i'm not sure, i’ll run a poll on it after this fic is posted.

general masterlist | 500 followers event

with snowflakes dancing through the night air outside the kitchen window, this is almost a picture perfect scene from those cheesy christmas romance movies you'd seen - whether it'd been reluctant or not. there's the soft hum of repetitive christmas music sounding from the radio you'd started playing on the television across the room and since you'd been baking for majority of the afternoon, the kitchen was filled with aromas of gingerbread, chocolate and freshly baked bread.

you're overall quite surprised you'd managed to get this much baking done with the likes of your girlfriend, who's currently using your mixing spoon as a microphone for her one-girl rendition of last christmas by wham! you can't exactly be mad at all, she's surprisingly good at singing after all. your legs are beginning to ache, tired of manoeuvring around the kitchen - more specifically, your girlfriend - and reaching for ingredients but you have one last thing to bake - cookies.

you'd long prepared the batter for this endeavour, too nervous of letting hu tao anywhere near the flour but as you glance across at your girlfriend, a wide grin on her face as she sings, you can't help but think maybe she was just the emotional support you needed during these trying times doing annual holiday baking. it was a shame you was about to interrupt her.

"love," you comment, just loud enough that she'd be able to hear you over the sound of mariah carey. ruby eyes fall to you and you come to realise you've gained her attention, "can you fetch me the cookie cutters?"

hu tao makes quick work of shuffling across your shared apartment kitchen, one of the only areas of your abode that lacked some holiday sparkle. you'd made a beautiful display in the living room, your bedroom and even the entry hall but the kitchen had been spared from anything remotely glittery. this was such a simple task you'd assigned her, there was no way she could mess this up… or so you thought.

"here you go!" she grins, sliding up to your side with numerous cookie cutters in her slender hands. your eyes fall to a familiar black shape amongst all the colourful shapes and you quirk a brow. hu tao gives you a sly smile, amused by your reaction as you sigh.

"ghosts are for halloween," you berate with a small frown but hu tao shrugs, placing the cookie cutter down with the others, clearly ignoring your thoughts about the ghost shaped cookie cutter, "not christmas, tao."

"not in this household!" hu tao pokes her tongue out at you playfully, laughing at the expense of your misery as you begin to roll the cookie dough into a thin slab, "besides, ghosts don't just disappear until halloween. they're with us all year so there's definitely christmas ghosts too!"

you couldn't argue with that logic, a small noise coming through your chest as you exhale through your nose. your hand reaches for the aforementioned cookie cutter first, pressing it into the neatly rolled slab of cookie dough. hu tao gives a warm smile, lanky arms wrapping around your form as she presses her chest to your back, resting her head on your shoulder as her eyes watch your movements closely, almost as if the girl was entertained. you lean back on the brunette, placing the first (of many) christmas ghost cookies onto the baking tray to your right.

"merry christmas, darling." hu tao hums to the most recent christmas song playing throughout the apartment, pressing a kiss to your warm cheek.

your eyelashes flutter shut, enjoying the embrace of your partner as your body relaxes after the tense few hours making sure everything you baked was perfect, multitasking multiple recipes to ensure things were done before tomorrow; the big day itself. hu tao's thumbs rub reassuring patterns on your sides as you let out a content sigh, "merry christmas, tao."

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