#goofy fanfic

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Regina x Reader where Regina has a nightmare and wakes Reader, very upset. Reader thinks she has a nightmare about the bus accident and comforts her, but when Regina elaborates it’s the most silly nightmare ever. Reader struggles to keep their composure, because Regina is actually upset about it 😭😭

Buses

|| Regina George x nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; swearing, Regina has a goofy nightmare, reader comforts Regina, reader trying not to laugh, short drabble

|| Summary; when Regina wakes up in the middle of the night, reader is there to comfort her.

Requests closed!

Started; November 28th

Finished; November 28th

Author Note; thank you for 800 followers‼️🫶 love y'all

~~~

You were used to waking up with Regina. It wasn't uncommon for the blonde to have nightmares, normally it would be about the bus incident. Normally. More of than not, so it was pretty safe for you to assume that this one had been about that too. You didn't realize how wrong you would be.

You were comforting your girl, whispering sweet praises after she woke up in a cold sweet. Completely startled and anxiety ridden. "Shh, that's it. See? You're home. In bed. No buses." You assured her, the moment you said the word buses... she looked at you like you just told her you were an alien.

"What? No- that's not- no-" She muttered, putting a hand to her face. Trying to calm herself," that wasn't it." You looked confused, having been sure that's why she was so freaked out. Though now that you thought about it, it was a different kind of freak out. Not the scared kind, but the worried/anxiety kind. You tilted your head a bit in confusion.

"What was your nightmare about?" Your tone remained soft, trying to gently convince her to tell you. Wanting to help her in whatever way you could.

Regina seemed reluctant to tell you at first but then groaned, clearly now frustrated about whatever her dream had been. "Stupid Cady ate my homework right when I was trying to give it to the teacher."

You paused. Lips trembling. You had to cover your mouth so she couldn't see the smile that was threatening to show. Cady... ate her homework in the dream? What the hell? A small scoff left your mouth in your attempt at hiding a laugh.

Regina snapped her head to look at you. Narrowing her eyes at the sound you made," it isn't funny." She muttered.

You took some deep breaths. Trying your damn hardest to take her seriously," no- no not funny. You're so right, G." Clearly, you oversold it. Cause now she was rolling her eyes at you.

"Fuck off." Regina muttered, a small laugh escapes you and you shake your head. Resting a hand to her shoulder. She tries to brush you off but you just pull her closer," let go of me!" She protests.

"Hey, hey. I'm sorry, okay?" You murmured, kissing her neck. She relaxes a bit at the kiss but still looks rather pissed. "That just... wasn't what I was expecting to hear."

"Whatever," and now your girlfriend was all pouty. You had some making up to do.

[zorangezest]

1/3

here we go! the longest comic i've ever drawn and one of my favourite things i've ever made! and it's. for this crack transformers au. what have i done. ive spent so long on this

next

[idiot-mushroom]

my oneshot is turning into a whole ass slowburn (i hate it here)

[scarylarry376]

Babe, stick to the board - Lian_mail - A Goofy Movie (Movies) [Archive of Our Own] PLS GO READ THIS IF U LIKE MAXLEY FICS CAUSE UGH its like my fav..

[oneblockofgay-soy]

They are ready for winter!!! Here are my own designs for the fic. Okay so if it looks like it ain't warm enough then I'm sorry my south east Asian skin hasn't yet experienced snow. But from what I know this is how people wear stuff in that season.

also closeups!

[n0vazsq]

Prank Wars | CS55 x Reader

pairing . . . carlos sainz x gf!reader

summary . . . In the midst of your prank war with Carlos, you notice that your favourite handbag has gone missing

request . . . no!

word count . . . 813

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . got this idea in the car and HAD to write it!! hope you guys enjoy <33

. . . The sun was beginning to dip, painting the poolside in hues of gold and orange as you strolled back from the coffee shop. Your favourite drink in hand, you felt the familiar dread of the ongoing prank war you and Carlos had been engrossed in.

You’d only stepped away for twenty minutes tops to grab your drink and take a break from the relentless back and forth of your pranks. But as you returned to your lounge chair, a sinking feeling set in.

Your towel was still neatly folded on the chair, your shoes exactly where you’d left them. But your handbag, the one you adored, the one that had survived countless trips, spills, and memories, was gone.

You glanced around, your mind immediately jumping to the prime suspect.

"Carlos!" you shouted, spinning in a slow circle to catch sight of him. Nothing.

Your suspicion only deepened when you remembered the way he’d been acting earlier: too innocent, too calm. That man had 'up to something' written all over him, and now your favorite bag had mysteriously disappeared.

Marching toward the house, you pushed open the sliding door. "Carlos!"

"In here!" His voice spoke from the courtyard, overly casual, overly cheerful.

You rounded the corner and found him leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world. When he glanced up at you, his expression was so innocent it was downright incriminating.

"Hey, hermosa," he greeted cheerfully. "You look a little tense. Everything okay?"

"Don’t you dare," you warned, pointing a finger at him. “Where is it?”

"Where’s what?" he asked, his voice dripping with fakke confusion.

"My bag, Carlos. My favorite bag. Don’t play dumb, you’re bad at it."

He shrugged, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I have no idea what you’re talking about. Did you lose it?"

You stared at him, eyes narrowing. "You are the worst liar I’ve ever met."

He shrugged again, his smirk growing wider, and you spun on your heels, storming back toward the pool area. If he wasn’t going to confess, you’d find the evidence yourself.

As you scanned the area, something caught your eye. Floating peacefully in the pool, bobbing along the gentle waves, was your handbag.

"Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me," you muttered under your breath, your blood starting to boil.

"Carlos!" you yelled, turning to face him. He had followed you outside, and the second your eyes met, he burst into laughter.

"Okay, okay, listen to me!" he said between fits of laughter, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Carlos Sainz," you said through gritted teeth, "if you think this is funny-"

"It’s not like that, hermosa! I swear!" He stepped closer, his grin still plastered across his face. "Just wait a second, okay?"

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. He jogged over to a lounge chair on the other side of the pool and picked up a beautiful shopping bag with an unmistakable designer logo.

"What is that?" you asked suspiciously as he approached you.

"Well," he started, looking a little shy as he handed you the bag, "I thought your handbag was looking a little… tired, and a bit old. So, I got you a new one."

You blinked, staring at him and then at the shopping bag in your hands. Pulling out the tissue paper, your jaw dropped as you revealed the stunning, elegant handbag inside. The very one you’d been eyeing for months but never had the heart to buy. Or never had the heart to replace your old bag with.

"Carlos…" Your voice softened, the annoyance melting away.

"Do you like it?" he asked, his grin turning a bit sheepish.

You glanced back at the pool, where your old bag was still floating like some abandoned pool float, and then back at him. "Carlos, you dunked my bag in the pool!"

"I’ll take it out!" he promised quickly, holding his hands up again. "But come on, admit it, you love this one."

You bit back a smile, running your fingers over the expensive leather of the new bag. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. It was perfect.

"You’re lucky you’re hot," you muttered, shaking your head.

He laughed, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you. "You know, hermosa, if this is how I win the prank war, I think I deserve bonus points."

You shoved him lightly, but your grin betrayed you. "This isn’t over, Carlos."

"Not until I get your bag out of the pool," he teased, kissing your lips gently.

And as you stood there, new handbag in hand and his arms wrapped around you, you realized that no matter how ridiculous his pranks got, you’d always let him win in the end.

How couldn't you when he made all your dreams come true?

[iv3lostcontrolofmylif3]

Some doodles inspired by my newer Maxley fic "Play Money" on Ao3- Just a two shot for now, because I took a little break from "Extra Credit" (I wanna come back to it at some point, because I'm so absolutely smitten with this AU now) The scene on the bottom left doesn't actually happen but I love that one meme with Jason Momoa and it felt biblically accurate somehow. https://archiveofourown.org/works/58413496/chapters/148789180

It's a sort of reverseAu inspired/ Cinderella Brad story, riches to rags to riches again (ish) with the childhood/puppy love trope in the flashback scenes. Which is why you see the cutie patootie babies, who I've been wanting to draw for AGES

!!If you'd like to check it out, keep in mind the story is rated explicit, with smut in the second chapter (I also snuck a bit of Sugardaddy!Max in there) Please read responsibly!!!

[triona-tribblescore]

do u fw maxley and can you PLEASEEEE draw them ⁉️

YES.

OH MY GOD YES. THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME AN EXUSE TO DRAW THEM!!!!!!!!!!

[radyoaktif-ghostt]

I was bored in class and I made this mini comic :3

[thewarnerbrothers]

👀 DID SOMEBODY SAY YAX ZINE?

YES. A collaborative 100+ page digital zine full of art and fic, dedicated to your local zany crack crossover ship! Out for sale this Friday January 17th, 2025!

Promotional illustration and animation by @cheezydraws

[untitledgoosegay]

re last reblog I do see fanfic culture pushing/replicating a certain model of "what trauma looks like," "how trauma works"

this is a problem across all areas of society obviously, but transformative works are, well, transformative. they're about crafting and modifying narratives where the fan-creator sees a flaw or a lack -- often for the better! don't get me wrong, I've done my fair share of "I take a hammer and I fix the canon," it's the main thing that gets my creative gears spinning -- but what happens when that "flaw" is simply a narrative not conforming to popular expectations?

some people just don't get PTSD from events that sound obviously traumatic. they're not masking, and they're not coping; they just straight-up didn't get the permanently-locked stress-response that defines PTSD. they walk away from a horrible experience going "well, that sucked, but it's over now." some people do get PTSD from events most people wouldn't find traumatic. we don't really know why some people get PTSD and others don't. but fandom has an idea of events that must be traumatizing, of a "correct" way to portray trauma. you see the problems with this lack of understanding in e.g. fans pressuring the devs of Baldur's Gate 3 to add dialogue where the player character badgers Halsin about his own feelings on his abuse -- because he must be traumatized, and his trauma must fit a certain mold and presentation of sexual trauma, under the mistaken impression that anything outside that narrow window is somehow "wrong" and disrespectful or even harmful to survivors.

take, for another example, the very common trope of a traumatized character who hates touch or sex "learning" to like touch or sex as a part of their healing process. certainly that can be healing for some people; other people will never like, or want, touch or sex, because of trauma or because they just don't. the assumption that someone who doesn't want sex or doesn't like to be touched must be traumatized, must be suffering from this perceived lack, is seriously harmful -- to asexual people, to people with sensory issues around touch, and to people for whom healing from trauma means freedom to refuse sex or touch.

and there's a secondary trope, one that's slightly more thoughtful but ultimately repeats the problem -- that once someone has learned that their boundaries will be respected, they'll feel it's safe to soften those boundaries. once they feel safe refusing touch or sex, they'll feel comfortable allowing it on their own terms. but many people don't, and many people won't! many people will simply never want to be touched, and never want sex, and they are not suffering or broken or lacking because of it. the idea that proving you'll respect someone's boundaries entitles you to test those boundaries -- the paradox is obvious, and yet this is something i've seen hurt (re-traumatize) people i care for.

people are imperfect victims. people don't heal in the ways you expect. many people have positive memories of their abuse, of their abusers. many people hurt others in the course of their trauma, in ways that can't easily be unpacked in a 5k oneshot. very few narratives of trauma and recovery actually fit the ones put forward by popular children's media and romance novels -- which are the ones I most see replicated in fandom spaces, because they provide the clearest narrative and easiest catharsis, and so they're easy and soothing to reach for.

that's not necessarily a bad thing! i am not immune to goopy romance tropes. i am not immune to teary catharsis. not every fic has to grapple with ugly realities. but there's a problem when these narratives become predominant, when people think they're accurate and realistic depictions of trauma, when the truth of trauma is unpleasant and uncomfortable, and doesn't fit any single narrative, let alone one of comforting catharsis

[hatsbuckets]

TF 141 Body Swap AU HC

Headcanons

You know that body swap trope? Yeah, I just watched a show with it in it and I'm just thinkin about how it could go down... Warnings: None

Expanded Cast Version!

Soap:

Soap ended up in Ghost’s body, of course. If anyone was going to get stuck in the most inconvenient switch possible, it was him. He realized this about ten seconds after waking up and nearly knocking himself out on the doorframe. Everything was big. His arms? Massive. His legs? Long enough that stairs suddenly felt like a death trap. And don’t even get him started on the shoulders—those things could barely fit through the locker room doorway without scraping the sides.

He wasn't complaining about the other large part of Simon's body though.

The mask was its own kind of torture. It clung to his face, hot and suffocating, like it had fused with his skin. He tugged at it a few times before giving up. “How does he even breathe in this thing?” he muttered, his new, gravelly voice startling him every time. Still, he'd respect it and keep it on.

When he caught his reflection in the mirror, he almost jumped out of his skin. Ghost’s mask stared back at him, hollow eyes and that skeletal grin. It wasn’t just eerie—it was downright unsettling. Soap quickly turned away, feeling every inch of the sore, strong body he inhabited.

Ghost:

Ghost ended up in Gaz’s body, which was… not ideal. Everything felt too light, too fast, too exposed. Gaz was athletic and lean, not a silent wall. He wasn’t used to moving like this, like his feet barely touched the ground. At first, it seemed like a good thing—until he realized how much strength he’d lost. His grip wasn’t as steady, his steps didn’t carry the same weight, and when he tried to grab his knife, it felt wrong in his hand, like it belonged to someone else.

The worst part? No mask. Just Gaz’s face, out in the open, for everyone to see. Ghost avoided mirrors like the plague, but every now and then, he’d catch a glimpse of himself-well, Gaz-in a reflection and feel a wave of discomfort. It wasn’t his face, but it wasn’t not his face either, and that was a weird line to walk.

He hated how exposed it made him feel. No armor, no wall to hide behind—just Gaz’s smaller frame and familiar face, staring back at him like it didn't belong-because it didn't.

Gaz:

Gaz hated being in Price’s body. Everything was heavy—his arms, his legs, his steps. It was like wading through water, slow and deliberate in a way that made him feel like he’d aged twenty years in a day.

His hands were big and rough, and they didn’t feel like his. Even holding a cup of coffee was a struggle.

And then there was the mustache. The mustache, the beard. He could feel it every time he moved his upper lip, like it was mocking him. He kept running a finger over it without realizing, grimacing every time he caught himself doing it.

He went without the hat. A small save and grace. Though it looked weird enough to see Price's head not covered. He opted for a baseball cap instead. It did not look right.

The height was the only saving grace. Not that it changed too much. By the end of the day, Gaz was ready to be back in his own body. This one might’ve been built for battle, but it sure as hell wasn��t built for him.

Price:

Price in Soap’s body was almost funny. He took it better than the rest of them, though. Years of experience meant he adapted quickly, but there was no getting around the fact that Soap’s frame was different. Lighter, more agile. He’d step too far when he didn’t mean to or overshoot a motion that should’ve been precise. It wasn’t bad, just… off.

What really threw him was the height. Price wasn’t exactly short, but Soap’s body was noticeably smaller than his own. He kept having to look up at people he wasn’t used to looking up at.

Every time he ran a hand over his face and felt only stubble, it threw him. The absence of the weighty mustache and beard felt wrong, like forgetting a piece of his uniform. And God, that mohawk. He got his hat, shoving the thing on to Soap's disappointment. Still, he appreciated the lighter frame when climbing stairs. His knees were happier-or he was happy to feel Johnny's knees? -even if the rest of him wasn’t.

[idiot-mushroom]

scene from my fanfic, go read it 💪💪

[vegan-peppermint]

In which Toby is kidnapping the reader.

Toby never wanted to hurt you. He's just young and stupid, too eager to prove to those creatures lurking in the shadows that he is cut from the same cloth as them.

It's been no more than two years since the fire swallowed his life whole, since the faceless figure first started treading on the edges of his mind. Every day spent in that eerie house, under the watchful eyes of his so-called "mentors," pushed him further from the boy he used to be. Tim's unbearable presence didn’t help—Toby had even toyed with the idea of doubling down on his pyromaniac tendencies.

Then The Operator spoke his name—his name alone. It wasn’t just a command in Toby's mind, more like a one-way ticket out of being a second-class proxy, lesser than the other two. This was his first solo mission, a validation of all the time and effort he'd poured into this twisted world. A reward.

You.

He at least had the courtesy to stalk you first. He tracked your habbits down, watching your work from across the street or joining you on your bus ride home on particularly uneventful evenings. He has been creeping closer, gliding from shadow to light and back into the dark- just like Hoodie had thought him.

Toby never wanted to scare you, that's why the first thing he did after parking the car in front you your house was going to the convenience store down the street. He'd seen you buy this particular brand of chocolate many times before. He hoped once he handed it to you it would bring an once of comfort amidst the circumstances.

The fact your hands are tied behind your back and your mouth stuffed didn't cross his mind then.

You were nothing like the others, he observed. You didn't scream or cry- hell, didn't even bite. He wanted to be grateful for such an easy capture, but -for fucks sake- you stared. Stared with gloomy, empty eyes past him into some far-off, unreadable place. Shaking his head in frustration, he muttered to himself dissaponted he ended up with the creepy chick, before slamming the the trunk door down, leaving you blind in the cramped space.

The drive to the mansion was uneventul for Toby, giving him plenty of time to let his mind wander. He hadn’t asked why you were wanted or what his boss planned for you—it didn’t matter to him then. But he couldn't help notice how you were rather easy on the eye. Maybe it was the isolation, the pent-up frustration and loneliness but a thought crossed his mind; what harm could it do if Slender let him borrow you for a little while? He chuckled darkly at his own thoughts, already imagining your surprise when, after a few days surviving on scraps in the manor’s cellar, he'd hand over the chocolate he’d picked up. You’d probably think he was your savior, fall right to his feet.

And if you would still be devoid of any reaction, he'd fuck your face into a pretty nice expression.

The old Mazda pulled into the driveway, its engine puffing and huffing, similar the old man Toby had swiped it from. Tim and Brian were already outside, blowing smoke and ash into the brittle winter air, their jackets hanging loose against the chill. The car's strained chug faltered as it rolled to a stop, steam curling from under the hood. Without waiting for Toby to fully park, Tim burried his cigarette into the frozen ground with the heel of his boot, his sharp gaze fixed on the boy as if he didnt expect him to ever return. Brian exhaled a plume of smoke, letting it drift lazily into the night.

"Back already, Tics?" Tim snarled, looking back to his friend. "What you say, Brian- think he's got her?"

The hooded man didnt respond but stepped closer with hesitation.

"Obviously I g-got her, got her," he smirked proudly getting out the driver's seat. "Hardly a challenge, really" he added, tilting his head back so high he might've been mistaken for a certain snouted animal.

"I gotta admit, that's a pretty impressive first job," Tim said, clapping Toby on the back as they approached the trunk. Brian hummed in agreement but kept a few cautious steps behind.

"What d-does Slender even want-t with some goth bitch?" Toby asked, gripping the key with newfound confidence and turning it smoothly in the rusty trunk lock. The red, corroded door creaked open with a deafening shriek, the sound swallowed immediately by an even louder silence.

So heavy was the quiet, Brian was certain he heard Tim's grin vanish, and he Toby's posture shrink.

A collared dove cooed mockingly as it flapped past their heads.

"A witch, Toby," Tim finally exhaled. "She's a witch."

"Yep, a witch, thats exactly what I was gonna say..."

[oneblockofgay-soy]

What happens to a person (dog) after almost getting hit by a truck

If I didn't know any better I'd make the whole fic a comic lol also I'm playing around with the art style and I think this looks like them in my actual style style yk? I'll post their whole fit soon cuz I'm kinda proud of it

[dutchessofcaladan]

How is Ghosts on its 3rd season and there are NO fics for this man?!

Truly boggles the mind 🫤