#it’s so weird and familiar at the same time

[cream1111]

🍎 weird dream . . .ᐟᅟ

⠀⎯⎯⠀⠀caleb/mc!reader, 1.5k, somno, noncon, fingering, dry humping

it's not uncommon for you to burst into caleb's room without knocking. it was the same no matter where he was, you'd walk straight to his bed, already talking, as if all his attention was yours to command the second you entered his periphery, as if it was your own room. sometimes he'd be by his desk, perking up at the sound of the door being opened and turning to face you, sometimes he's already in bed reading, scooting over to make room as he continues his book, not even having to look at you. you'd snuggle in, making yourself comfortable.

"you know you got your own bed, right?" he'd tease, as if he'd have it any other way.

"yeah, but yours is waaay more comfortable" you'd feign a pout. he never pushes, and you never expect him to.

you'd talk and talk, and he'd listen happily. and sometimes, you'd fall asleep in his bed, never asking, never thinking to. it had always been like this.

even after he moved out for school, summers still gave you the chance to live together once again. you'd seamlessly slip back into the routine, as if no time had passed.

tonight was no different.

you were snuggled up against him, you had been telling him about some gossip from school, some text conversation with a friend. using his outstretched arm as a pillow as you looked up at the ceiling, gesturing at nothing, looking over at him occasionally, catching his eye every time. his eyes never strayed from you. you were used to his gaze, the feeling was constant when he was around.

your story slowed, yawns every few minutes became every few words. until finally a comfortable silence filled the room. he let's out a little laugh. rubbing your shoulder to help ease you into a nice dream.

"must've been really sleepy, huh" he mutters into your hair, petting you, you offer a sleepy groan as a response. he can't help but smile, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you hum happily. it's not long before your breathing slows into that familiar pattern. your chest rising and falling evenly, you were sound asleep.

"there you go," caleb coos softly, shifting to be behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle. slowly, so slowly, he moves his hand to rub your stomach. small soothing circles, testing the waters. you've never woken up so far, but he doesn't want to push his luck.

his fingers drift lower, silk soft touches along the exposed skin between your slightly shifted top and the hem of your shorts. he could do this forever, feeling you under his hands, in between his arms, against his chest. he loved having you so close like this, he doesn't know if he could go without it. he knows you feel the same, you might not know it entirely, maybe you don't think about it too much, but he sees the way you look at him, the way you blush, the way you tease. you feel it too, you just aren't ready to act on it yet, you wanna keep the charade going. and that's fine, he's a patient man.

for the most part.

his fingers grow restless, sliding under the waistband of your shorts, under your panties, trailing lower and lower, slow and steady. he hovers over your clit, your breathing remains even.

he waits a second, just to be sure.

and he softly presses down. you don't stir at all. he begins to move in easy little circles, just the right amount of pressure. he thinks he's perfected it. he got a bit too eager with you once, and you almost woke up. you like soft touches, he knows that, for now at least.

he uses his arm around your waist to pull you closer, pressing your ass flush against his growing hard on. he has to bite back a moan, letting out a deep breath instead. he wants to grind into you so bad, but this isn't about him, it's all about you. he remains still, cock twitching against the layers that separate your skin.

he knows one day you'll be together. he can wait until then, but in the meantime, he just wants to open you up a bit. get you ready for him. he thinks it's sweet even, he knows you don't have any experience. he doesn't want you to feel embarrassed or scared he won't fit. he'll be able to assure you and mean it, he'll know your body so well already, you'll have nothing to worry about.

his finger against your clit presses harder, just a touch. your thighs shift, pressing into his bulge harder. he slows, not yet stopping. waiting, checking for any tell tale signs of you waking up.

"mm..." you let out a tiny moan, still asleep. caleb can't help but let his eyes flutter closed at the sound. letting his face nuzzle deeper into your hair, peppering encouraging kisses against your head as he breathes in your scent.

"feels good?" he mutters, barely audible. "let's see..." his hand stills, moving lower, dipping between your lips towards your opening. he has to bite his lip again to hold back the low moan that almost escaped.

you're soaked.

he has a habit of giving you what you want. now is no exception, he won't make you wait.

he circles your opening, before slowly inching in. his cock twitches again, head weeping, wanting nothing more than to be buried inside you. he pushes in deeper and deeper.

"nngh⎯" you let out a soft groan, and he freezes. he's unsure if it's discomfort or pleasure. you're tense around him.

"i know, i know, it's why we're opening you up." he whispers in his most reassuring tone, hoping it'll reach you in your dreams and put you at ease. and it seems to work, you relax, sinking deeper into the bed, soft walls welcoming his finger.

"mhm, just like that..." he presses into you, his finger is as deep as it could go. he angles his wrist so the meat of his palm presses into your clit as he slips a second finger in.

"hah," you sigh sweetly. caleb takes a deep breath, trying to keep his desire in check. maybe, maybe you've done this enough times, maybe you can take a little more now. he justifies it to himself as he curls his fingers out just to push it back inside, a little harsher now, causing you to press harder against his needy cock. you tense again, but relax before he even has a chance to comfort you.

he's losing all composure now.

he repeats the motion, harder, grinding against you. and again, and again, falling into a steady rhythm.

"mmph!" the sweet sounds seem to pour out of your lips. he takes them as encouragement, moving his head lower to brush his lips against your neck. your body sways with each thrust from his fingers, pliant and so accepting of everything he's giving.

he's moving you so much he doesn't notice as you shift more against him.

you feel the pleasure bubbling within you first. it pulls you close to waking. you've had this dream before. being fondled and fucked. your eyes squeeze shut tighter, but it starts to sting, it feels real, you feel the pressure of your eyes against your skull. you twitch, and you suddenly become acutely aware of the ache in your core.

your eyes flutter, half lidded as you become aware of your surroundings. caleb, he's behind you, and he's ... his ⎯ you can't think straight. he's still moving. you're moving, he's moving your body along with his.

he's pressed against you, he's huffing in your ear, and his hand is in your panties.you try to keep your breathing in check, you want to pant, you feel so overwhelmed all over, you feel surrounded, filled.

right before you can fully acknowledge what is happening, you feel it, your peak is approaching, fast. it's all too much, all of it, his thrusts, his breath against you, his hard cock grinding on your ass, his fingers so, so deep. you try to stop it, whimpers tumble out, you try to speak, but it comes out as a lewd moan.

"w-wai⎯" but it's too late. it all comes crashing down, you come onto his fingers. he feels it, shoving his fingers deep and then holding them still, letting your walls milk him, fruitlessly.

"fuck, yeah, that's it," he whispers, kissing your neck. he was trembling, "mmm, yes."

as you come down you realize he's stopped moving as well, as he shifts the cold air makes you acutely aware of the damp spot against your ass. he gently removes his hand for your panties, you crack your eye open as he raises it, past your face and out of sight. you hear him behind you, his lips part and he's sucking his fingers. he let's out a soft groan at your taste. you shudder.

"sooo good, you did so good." he murmurs into your hair. moving his arms to surround you again. you feel unsure, maybe, you're still dreaming. it's hard to tell, you feel so sleepy again. you lean further into him. he's so warm. it just feels right. and it's not unlike dreams you've had before. maybe, you liked it more than you're willing to admit.

maybe you could worry about this in the morning.

[specialgradefckr]

it's been a long day for you, nerd gojo's personal bully.

shoving gojo into a locker. him getting a boner because he's a freak. locking him in there and having to pull him out.

by the time you arrive at your part-time job, you're already ready for the shift to be over. scan some items, restock some stuff, sweep and clean and clock right out.

unfortunately, today, you have a visitor.

a familiar voice saying your name. which you still haven't told him he could use.

you try not to make eye contact. it's so uncomfortable, so cringey.

why did a rich kid like him even go to shitty convenience stores like this? was his private chef taking a 15 minute break?

you feel heat rising in your cheeks. desperately you wish for him to just leave, to not talk at all, but even if he did he'd probably talk to you at school about it -

"earth to - AHEM! hello! it's nice to see you, i didn't know you worked here!" gojo chirps, lounging in front of your cash register.

he's dumped a giant pile of treats on there. knowing him, he'd eat all of them, too.

you notice one of your favorites in the pile... now you're even more hungry. the last thing you ate was the lunch you normally steal from gojo, because he screwed up getting you a snack from a vending machine.

there's nothing at home, and you're saving money to go to college, you can't waste money on premade food.

he notices your scowl and giggles. not a chuckle, a giggle. god, he's so lame.

"what's wroooong?" gojo drawls, or tries to. but he's so lame he just looks stupid. then again, he always looks stupid.

leaning over the counter, he tries to lower his head enough to look up at your face as you scan the items. "heheh... you're mad 'cause you can't bully me?"

you're struck by the unpleasant sight of his stupid weird face staring up at you with his big weird eyes. his stupid sunglasses (it's night time. loser.) sliding down his nose.

it must show on your face. "come on! you gotta be nice to me! i'm a paying customer!"

gojo's face has always had this really punchable quality to it, one that made it hard to look away from. but he's never been quite as punchable as he is right now.

you feel your cheeks heat up. from the proximity, of course.

"your total is-" you begin very loudly, enough for him to jump back suddenly.

he twists his mouth, handing you his card, "come ooooon. you don't wanna talk? you're free right now!" he gestures to the completely empty store, "wanna come snack with me?"

you do, actually, but that would require spending time with his insufferable ass, and also agreeing with him.

"i'm on the clock, you moron," you snap, scanning his card and handing him his receipt, "get lost. and don't come here again."

you put his things in a bag and hand them to him. he sighs, pulling something out - coincidentally, the treat you'd been eyeing earlier.

"come on, really?" he whines, like the whiner he is. you don't respond.

he takes a long moment biting into it. making eye contact with you.

(well, he's trying to. you aren't willing to torment yourself with the sight of his ugly mug any longer.)

he starts sort of. side-stepping his way out, in the lamest way possible, shuffling so he can keep looking at you until he's at the door.

freak.

when he's at the door, he sighs as if greatly put upon. "see you tomorrow!" he calls out, which you ignore, "same place, same time~"

you ignore this too. right up until you see him discard his half-eaten treat straight into the garbage while he pushes the door open to exit.

and, well. maybe it's because you're hungry. maybe it's because he says he'll come again.

maybe it's just your natural killer instincts as a bully.

you dart past the counter, snatching satoru by the arm and yanking him back into the store. right next to the trash can.

"whoa, whOA, what - "

"pick it back up."

gojo blinks his big blue dumb eyes at you. "what?"

"you didn't finish eating it," you shove him so he's leaning over the trash can, "pick it up."

"you can't be seri-"

you shove his head straight into the trash can, and gojo yelps, muffled.

"hey! hey! let me out, let me out, i'll get it-"

you hold his head down as he struggles against you (weakly, like the lanky nerd loser he is), until his crying starts to grate on your nerves.

"pick it up with your mouth."

"what?" he's still muffled, "with my mouth? that's so gross-"

"do it, nerd," you seethe, shoving his face further into the trash until you hear a crushing sound.

"okay okay! let me up a little, i'll do it, i'll do it!"

you barely hear him through the trash his face is now buried in. huh, you did need to empty the trash can soon. you'll have him do that next.

so much for being nice to your customer.

...no one will check the security cameras, right?

giving gojo just barely enough room to move around, you wait a moment until he starts to grunt and pull his head back up.

when you let him go, he's got the half-eaten snack in his mouth, like a dog with a treat.

he is kind of like a dog, isn't he?

gojo quickly takes it out of his mouth to complain, but you shove it right back in.

"finish it." you glower.

he doesn't argue with you anymore, quietly eating while his face is red and sticky. he sniffles a little, like a pathetic puppy digging for sympathy.

"what's the big deal," he mutters, "it's just cheap junk food."

you can almost feel your stomach growling. you try to pretend you don't hear-

"oh, are you hungry?" gojo brightens noticeably, "we can go out, my treat-"

the fury of a thousand suns rains upon him in the form of your glare. "finish it."

he swallows. quickly eats the rest of the treat. "there! do you wanna-"

"and take the trash out," you say, striding back to the desk, looking for the trash bags.

"what? isn't that your job?" gojo whines as he obediently pulls the bag out.

for once in his worthless existence, he is correct, but this is immaterial, because he is also stupid, and annoying, and the least he can do is make up for it by taking this task off your hands.

"do. it." gojo rushes out with the trash. he's back in just a few seconds.

by then you've put the new bag in, and you put a hand on his chest as he tries to enter through the door.

"okay, good enough. get lost, nerd."

gojo's face reddens, his eyes flicking down to your hand on his chest, and then your eyes.

what's up with him? his shoulders shift and for a moment you feel his chest flex, like there's any muscle on his scrawny -

shoving him back, you turn straight around, darting right to the counter and quickly grabbing some random items from underneath the front desk to stock.

you don't look up from under the table until you hear the door close.

...

...

...ugh. it's warm in here.

"i'm telling you. suguru, it's SUPER EFFECTIVE!" "dude, there's no way this lame ass flexing impressed her." "what do you mean lame? not every girl likes muscles that are huge, suguru! they're noticeable, but not overt. very mindful, very demure." "this is why she bullies you, satoru." "i'm lean. elegant. gracefu- WHOA!" "heh. graceful, right?" "you literally tripped me! anyways. she was blushing! it was the cutest thing ever! she put her hand on my chest-" "willingly? i doubt it." "she DID! and then i flexed for her and she turned around immediately-" "now that i believe." "but before she did, i swear i saw her blush! i'm getting through to her, suguru! our relationship is getting closer by the day!" "ugh... you could start a cult with this level of delusion." "oh my god, should i? i could dedicate it entirely to her! do you think she'd be into that? i think she would, but she's too tsundere to admit it, hehe... i could build a shrine." (suguru is starting to think satoru is not the victim in this relationship.)

[eggueggueo]

Shadowvanilla in Dungeons & Dragons...

Que me yapping under the notes

I would like to say, uve created a special kind of brainrot in my mind with this ask

Ive wanted to write a whole fic off this now with how much it inspired me gjcjch

For now though, have this! Im still drawing the outfit designs for them (smilks is done but pv is taking foreeeever) but i really wanted to do something silly in the meantime hehe

I thought for days how to approach this idea since the ask was pretty vauge and open to a lot of interpretation (/not complaining!!) And pulled inspiration from bg3 since thats one form of dnd im familiar with. Then i thought about the owlbears in the game and that itd be silly to draw something related to it (even though idk how to draw animals at all ☠️)

Now onto info for this au!!

For the setting, initially it takes place in ep7/8 ish (since atp 8 hasnt come out but its gonna be hella canon divergent anyways so shrugs) where pv and smilks have their final confrontation. Pv wins, but takes pity on smilks and spares him. Smilks in a fit of desperation and delirium, tries one more trick to beat pv, but it backfires terribly and both their magic (since they pull from the same soulgem) does some weird wombo combo effect reaction which alters time and space and! Poof they both get pulled into the rift/distortion

When they wake, all that they experienced (in their canon world) is like a strange dream. I wont say more since id like to elaborate and explore the idea more

And erm,,,it might change a bit since the ideas are still being worked on

But!!

Pure vanillas class is a cleric (shocker) and shadow milks class is a sorcerer

Its a running gag in my head that everytime shadow milk tells someone hes a sorcerer, they look him up and down and say, "your....a sorcerer?? You dont dress the part"

To which he will roll his eyes in annoyance and tell them, "their clothing is too boring to wear!"

[vampiresbloodx]

I wonder how good your hands feel around my neck.

pairings: Vi x reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings/contains(18+ ONLY): smut, reader has a vagina, Vi loves her some tits, clubbing, tattoo artist!vi, innocent!reader, porn without plot/plot what plot, top!vi, dirty talk, flirting, daddy vi, fingering

You have the absolute filthiest thoughts that come to mind while getting tattooed. Some you really can’t control, they just appear and you end up fixated on them for hours, before you know it, your session has ended. 

Vi, short for Violet, is the first artist who’s ever tattooed you ever. With her pink hair, to her muscles that are covered in ink. You can’t help but wonder how strong she is, you know she’s talked about how she did boxing one time, she even tried karate, many forms where she gets to fight and use her hands. 

You know she’s good with her hands. 

When you first got your tattoo done by her, you focused on the way her fingers moved the entire time and how the art came alive on your skin, the needle not even bothering you. She was impressed at how long you can stay still. 

You were slightly surprised yourself. You didn’t mind the pain, the pain had slowly turned into pleasure meeting halfway. That’s what made it all worth it. 

You’d work more hours just to save more money so you could see her again, you thought at first you loved her style, how she worked, all that. But then you realised it was more than that. 

Almost you wanted to stop going to her, and you did for a while, focusing on other things in your personal life. Actually trying to hang out with your friends and go outside instead of only going to work and the few shops and stores you went to. It was nice for a while, you did miss her, which felt stupid when she didn’t know you at all. She was just a girl that gave you a few tattoos, some of your best. 

And then you saw her again. 

You went out with a couple of friends on a saturday night, you couldn’t describe the shock you were in when you saw a familiar pink haired girl who was at the same bar as you. Even in a big city, it's strange how you can see the same faces again. 

She was actually here. 

You couldn’t contain how much your heart was racing, you weren’t even paying attention to anything your friend was saying, she grinned when she saw who you were staring at. 

“Hey, is that-” 

“That’s no one,” you interrupted quickly, looking away.

She smiled more. 

“Just go and talk to her, it won’t be as weird since you two already know each other.” 

You shook your head, “that would still be fucking weird and you know it.” 

She shrugged, “maybe a little. But what if I told you she’s coming your way right now?” 

Wait, what? 

Before you could ask any more questions as you thought she was messing with you, it turns out she wasn’t. Just as you turned around to look where Vi was, she was really walking towards you, in your direction, maybe she might just walk past, not even notice you, maybe she saw someone else instead. 

And of course your friend ditched you. 

You heard your name being called. 

It never sounded so much nicer coming from her mouth. 

“Vi? Hey” you tried to act smoothly, as if you didn’t know she was already here. 

“I have to say, you look good, like really good.” 

Did she just?... 

Were you actually dreaming right now? 

“You look great yourself” you decided to say back, it didn’t seem like it would hurt if you flirted back a little. 

She really did though. She wore black ripped jeans, loose tank top that showed a bit of her abs that you couldn’t help but look at shamelessly. God you were obsessed with her. You had an issue. But right now all you could think about was how her hands would feel around your neck as she fucked you silly. 

You didn’t see how much closer she got to stand next to you, until your hands brushed against one another. You couldn’t focus. With the loud music blasting in your ears, the lingering touches. What did she want? 

“Where are your friends?” she asks, her eyes never leaving yours, as you bite down on your bottom lip. 

“She left, of course.” 

“She left a pretty girl like you all by yourself?” she hummed, tilting her head to the side. “Can I keep you company for a lil while? I can make it worth your time.” 

How could you ever deny her? 

You followed her back to her place, you haven’t gone home with someone in a while, you’re happier it was with her than any other stranger. 

She held your hand with a strong grip, leading you the way, making sure you were always with her. The silence between you both wasn't even uncomfortable, you actually enjoyed it. 

It was the thrill of her that was exciting to you, you craved more. 

You laughed with her as her hands roamed your body, touching you wherever she pleases and where you wanted her to be. You let her. And then you found yourself begging for more, it wasn’t long until she had you where she wanted you to be, on top of you as she teased you, slowly taking your clothes off. 

“I hate to take these pretty clothes off, but I think i’d be more happy to see your naked body” she licked her lips, you made a noise as she raised an eyebrow at you. “Someones getting needy.” 

“Please, just touch me” you whimpered.

She spread your thighs apart, keeping one hand a tight grip on them to make sure you don’t move as much. You liked it. The way she stared at you had you squirming. 

“But i'm already touching you?” she teased, and so easily, she slipped a finger inside your wet pussy, moaning at how well you fit her, she wanted to fill you up. 

“God baby, you’re soaking” she groaned, thrusting her finger in and out slowly on purpose, hearing you whine louder, she loved how vocal you got the harder and faster she fucked you. 

Her other hand played with your tits, as she groped you and fondled with them, you were on cloud nine, why didn’t you do this sooner? You both wondered. She really wanted to taste you badly. She wanted to make you cum on her face, make you ride her, hear just how loud you can get. 

She added another finger in and another, stretching you out as she imagined how fucking sexy you’ll look riding her thick strap on, as you cried sweetly. 

“Who knew you were such a slut, behind how innocent you showed yourself to others” she chuckled. She felt herself getting more turned on, getting off on how wet you are for her. “You gonna come for me, baby? Make a mess on my fingers? I want you to come.” 

You let out a sweet release of a beautiful cry, she wanted more. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as your body shook. Still you craved her touch. You didn’t just want it to be over, and she didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. 

“I hope you’re not thinking of leaving me.” 

“No, I need you.” 

“Good girl, now come use me as a seat, would you?.” 

[riacte]

Been thinking about HC fan discussion shifting over the last few years to become more focused on individual creators, and I think the reduced prominence of the Recap could be a contributing factor?

Speaking from my own experience as having gotten into HC in Season 6 along with Grian, I started watching Recap from the S6 Day One video (I was already familiar with the concept thanks to Evo in a Nutshell, which was openly inspired by HC Recap, so it was easy for me to get into), and it was really formative for getting to know all the hermits and HC in general.

I think it ties into what you said about engaging with the server as a whole, because even if you don't watch every hermit, with Recap you get to learn their names, hear their voices, and get exposed to their personality, projects, interests, and running jokes. It presented HC as an interconnected community, where all the hermits came together to create a collective art piece (the server itself). That sense of community has always been one of my favourite things about HC tbh

Recap also made it much easier for me to get into new hermits throughout s6/s7, bc I was already loosely familiar with who they were and what they were doing, so I could jump in midway through their season, or watch a one-off episode, without being too lost!

Meanwhile, with lots of people getting into HC through Life Series (and likely not being exposed to Recap), I think it's easy for people to just... stick with people they already know? And I don't blame anyone for watching people they like (time/energy for videos is limited, and plenty of my favourites are in Life Series too), but it also feels bad to see the work of so many hermits go unappreciated in their own community, especially when there was more of an effort to include them in the past :(

We need a new wave of Recap appreciation posts I think

I think this is very true. Lots of people just regurgitate Life series povs to people asking on the Reddit who to watch when you could just do Recap and didn’t they make a whole flowchart of who to watch? (Outdated but still a useful reference)

Unironically we need to bring back 2021 level of propaganda. Like whole posts on Hermitcraft propaganda that introduce all the listed hermits and their uniqueness. Sure, everyone has preferences, but they brand themselves as a server, so we should also brand them as a server. I do find it realllyyyyy weird that this phenomenon got worse after HC9 when HC9 had TCG (includes all hermits and “quirks” about them) and Decked Out (huge event that involved many hermits, including non Lifers). The hermits are literally producing merch as a server. It’s a game that appreciates each of them. The audience loves TCG too so ?? ??????

Another thing is that for me, sometimes I feel like I’m yelling into the void with my posts so I end up in a circle of people who main the same people (since we interact and talk to each other) and I don’t have the energy to do more because again, yelling into the void sucks. So I’m also part of the “problem”.

[k-nayee]

Tik-Tok Killed the Video Star Hazbin Hotel i

wc: 3.7k a/n: ngl i had fun making this! hope y'all like it

Traveler M.List

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

LIVE: [Streamer: @Real___]

The ring light glowed bright, bathing your face in a soft artificial radiance that smoothed out every imperfection.

You weren’t taking any chances.

Leaning in toward your webcam, you tilt your head slightly as you examined your reflection in the streaming preview window. With precise and practiced movements, you adjusted a stray strand of hair, ensuring it fell perfectly into place.

Your skin had to be flawless—if only for this final performance.

It was almost funny, how even now, as you prepared to confess every last unforgivable sin, you still cared about how you looked.

The viewer count climbed.

At first only a few hundred trickled in. Then thousands. Then tens of thousands.

10K...40K...70K...100K...

The comment section was already a chaotic mess of scrolling text. The usual flood of usernames, some familiar, some new, all merging into a blur of reactions.

[SourCandyBites]: U MONSTER

[AztecStar]: OMG omg ily pls say hi to mexico 🇲🇽🇲🇽!!!

[lonondel_90]: WTF is this whats even happening rn??

[ChillPillPlease]: YALL SHE JUST TROLLING CHILL.

[MirrorVain]: WHY aint nobody talking about how GOOD she look??

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head in amusement as you finally flash your signature smile—bright, plastic, and perfected after years of camera training.

"Hey y’all! You already know what it is—" You paused for dramatic effect, watching the comments spike as your voice. "I know I know. This is a little weird right? Seeing me on Twitch instead of TikTok? But hey, gotta keep things fresh!"

Another flood of comments. Another spike in viewers.

120K...145K...190K...210K...

You could practically feel the world tilting toward you, drawn in like moths to a flame. The chat moved at breakneck speed, usernames flying by too fast to read. Still you caught glimpses:

[user876543]: Omg it’s really you!! 😭💖

[s1nisterViper]: NAH WTF R U DOIN HERE💀

[lilpeepfan99]: Say hi to Brazil!! 🇧🇷

[exposedtea]: MONSTER. YOU DESERVE TO ROT.

[simp4real___]: IDGAF WHAT THEY SAY I LOVE YOUUUU 😍😍😍

[SOKOLOV_feds]: 🧐👀

Your smile never faltered. Hate, adoration, indifference—it was all the same to you. Attention.

And right now you had it in abundance.

"So! Today we’re doing a special edition of Get Ready With Me—this one coming with a little bit of TEA!" You reached toward your makeup bag and dragged it into frame. The zipper unzipped smoothly, revealing an array of pristine cosmetics neatly arranged.

Foundation, concealer, brushes, powders—every tool of the trade, ready to transform you into the best version of yourself.

You picked up a tube of primer and squeezed a small amount onto your fingertips. As you rubbed it into your skin with slow methodical circles, you continued, voice light, almost casual. "Mmm oh yeah. You may be asking what are we getting ready for? Well you'll just have to wait and see."

A playful wink, the same one you’d done a thousand times before. It sent wave of anticipation rippling through the chat.

[hotdogwater24]: BRO WHAT IS GOING ON 💀💀💀

[kookiebxtch]: This feels...off.😅

[Skyline_Chaos]: WTF IS HAPPENING RN

[MurmurQueen]: this is so creepy stop😭😭

[AussieAmazed]:can u say hi to australia???

[NoFilterNell]: NAH THIS SOME REAL SHIT

[MidnightMuse]: get ready for what???👀

"Now I wanna be real with you guys. I really, truly do." You reached for a cleansing pad, running it over your skin evenly. "So I’ve decided to confess. Right here. Right now."

There was a different energy behind your voice tonight—something simmering just beneath the surface.

"First step, obviously is to start with a clean base. Gotta get rid of all the built-up dirt, oil, and, well..."—you let out a short laugh—"...bullshit."

[tea_with_tasha]: THE SHADE LMAOO

[cancelmebby]: Tf is this real life????

[JustCuriousNow]: confessing what kinda lost here

[SugawithdatTae]: yall know who she talm bout?👀

[softie4u]: GO TO HELL YOU BITCH

[Yunnie0678]: YOU KNOW WHAT TF U DID LAST YEAR

You moved onto foundation, pumping a precise amount onto a beauty sponge before dabbing it onto your cheeks and blending outward. With every soft pat against your skin the words left your mouth effortlessly.

"So let’s get into it: I was a regular person once. Just some nobody who blew up on TikTok overnight. And with fame...comes power. And with power? Ohhh, chat...the things I did I tell ya! And I got away with it too?? But no more secrets. No more running."

The next hour unfolded like a twisted diary entry.

You painted your face while painting a picture of your sins; every crime, every manipulation, every disgusting, unthinkable act you had committed with full knowledge that your wealth and influence would keep you safe.

Fraud...

Blackmail...

Backroom deals...

Murder....

Assualt...

Hush money...

From the people who had helped you to the people you had destroyed. You told them everything.

You named names; politicians, CEOs, celebrities, fellow influencers. Hell even Royal families! Anyone who had been untouchable...until now.

You had burned every bridge and exposed every secret.

The chat became an unreadable flood of reactions.

[OhMyGaaaawd]: omggggggg i cannot with this

[xani]: MY SHAYLA WHY?!😭😭 WE WERE ROOTING FOR YOU WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU

[DenialZone]: I KNEW YALL MFS WAS EVIL

[fbi.gov]: 🚨🚨🚨

[WhySoSerene]: NAH U DESERVE DEATH FR💯💯

[whistleblower88]: you lying no way u did that😱

[Karma]: mf calm as if she didnt just expose all elites BRUH

[Atieh and Jacky's Therapy Sessions_stan]: IM STILL WITH YOU BABY 😍😍😍

By the time you reached the final steps of your routine, your face was fully made up—foundation, concealer, contour, a touch of highlighter. Perfection.

You checked the viewer count.

10.7 MILLION.

You chuckled under your breath, a smug little thing as a satisfied smirk crept onto your lips. "Oh this is definitely going down in history."

Then—

BANG BANG BANG

You froze at the sound. It echoed through the house, shaking the walls, reverberating through your bones. Your brows lifted slightly but your expression remained eerily calm.

[whoopsieD]: UHHH THAT DIDNT SOUND GOOD

[itzjustameme]: LMFAOOOOO THEY COMIN FOR UUUU

[nottherussianmafia]: 🤨

[WTF_Lunar]: WTF WAS THAT

[OfficerPlease]: those cops or security??

[UrDeepn8p]: THIS IS SOME MOVIE TYPE SHIT FR😭😭

[nameizzuzJeSOOS]: is this real or staged idk

The camera caught every detail—the way your lips curled into something almost amused, the slow way you turned your head toward the microphone.

"Oopsie." You giggled. "Guess I made some of y’all’s faves a little upset. Think they’re out for blood?"

The pounding grew louder.

With one last spritz of setting spray, you wave your face dry, ensuring everything stayed flawless. "No worries. I’m already one step ahead~" Reaching down under the desk, your fingers curl around cold metal. With a practiced motion you lifted it into the frame.

[PistolPapi]: HOLY SHIT is that a GUN

[youshouldrot]: yo YO yo wtf wtf wtf

[Stan___4evr]: mommy? sorry. mommy?

[FBI_watchlist69]: bro put the gun DOWN

[YoYoYeller]: kill yourself already, u deserve it

[rideordie_real___]: NOOOOO PLEASE STOP 😭😭😭

[not_a_cop]: 👀👀👀

Your head tilted as the shotgun balanced effortlessly in your grip. You popped it open with a satisfying snap, revealing two gleaming buckshot shells and close it once more.

You turned to the camera, smiling like a Barbie commercial. "And for those who have caught on—why yes I am depressed, mentally unstable, and quite frankly, ready to leave this dipshit of an earth."

[sweetrevenge23]: NO FUCKING WAY

[h_scanner]: 🚔🚔🚔🚔

[deathwish69]: YO WAIT HOLD ON

[pleasedontdoit]: 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[hellawaits04]: LMAOOOOO ICONIC

[kenslaysUp]: no way this is happening rn

[moneymoves3000]: THIS SOME BLACK MIRROR SHIT

You let out a small breathy laugh. "Alright but seriously." Adjusting your hold on the shotgun, you shift it into one hand as you pressed the other against your chest. "I wanna say I’m sorry. To everyone I’ve hurt, to everyone I’ve lied to. To my fans, my friends..."

Your voice dipped into something softer. Something real.

"To everyone I’ve wronged I’m sorry. To all my haters and naysayers—congrats you were right. Not that it matters. Nothing I say will atone for my sins and for what I’ve done. But maybe...maybe my death will be enough?"

A beat of silence.

A second of silence. Then—

CRASH

The unmistakable splintering of wood followed by the thud of footsteps flooded into the lower level of your house. They got in.

The chat exploded in panicked messages.

[fuckauthority]: DID Y’ALL HEAR THAT???

[paranoidxoxo]: THEY’RE IN THE HOUSE😱😱

[daddyissues420]: OH MY GOD

[govwatcher]: LAW ENFORCEMENT INCOMING

[jesuschristirl]: REPENT NEOW🙏🏾🙏🏾

[bigbootybitch33]: GIRL RUN WTF

[gov_watchlist98]: YOU’RE FUCKED LOL

[hotgoss411]: WE ARE WITNESSING HISTORY RN

The comments was moving so fast now that it was unreadable.

You turned back to the camera, shotgun resting against your shoulder and beamed. "Oh and before I forget—" You gestured toward your laptop with your free hand. "This current live-stream is embedded with a virus that sends every single piece of evidence—every file, every video, every receipt—to every single person connected to my livestream. Surprise!"

[cybercrimes_unit]: ☠️☠️☠️

[We0ll see8]: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

[moral_justice]: LIVING LEGEND.

[snapeb00tysit]: DO IT PUSSY

[DudeNoChill]: bro wtf stop playin

[Punk0Lu2k]: DOES IT CONTAIN YOUR NOODS TOO??👀👀

[Brokie8ren]: AYE SEND ME SUM MONEY BEFORE YHOU KILL YOSELF, MY CASHAPP $STARRYNUTT

"So even if they do stop me..." You let the words linger, a satisfied smile curling at your lips. "Still checkmate. "

Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs.

You could hear them charging down the hall. Seconds away.

You shifted the shotgun, maneuvering it with precision in a way its angled perfectly against your head as your finger curled over the trigger. At the same time, your other hand hovered over the ENTER key on your laptop.

"All I gotta do is press this button and—"

Your bedroom door burst open.

The camera didn’t capture who entered. But you saw them.

And you grinned.

"Too late fuckers!"

Your fingers moved at once.

Click.

BANG.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

A dull aching pain throbbed in your skull, deep and unrelenting, as if something had cracked open inside you.

Your body felt...off.

Too light and too heavy all at once, like your limbs weren’t quite yours anymore. A sluggish warmth clung to your skin thick and oppressive making it hard to breathe.

Your senses finally adjusted.

The first thing you noticed was the smell; burnt ash. Sulfur. Smoke curling in the air like invisible fingers.

Then came the sound; distant screams, eerie laughter, overlapping whispers that didn’t belong to any one person but still slithered into your ears like they were meant for you.

Your eyelids fluttered open.

And what you saw?

Red.

Clouds churned in dark ominous shades as a massive pentagram symbol loomed high above—it glowed sinisterly, slicing through the swirling clouds in sharp precise lines.

A moon hung beside it—a twisted scarred orb that looked as though it had been dragged from the depths of something far darker than night. And even higher in the distance, just barely visible against the red skyline, was the faint shimmer of white...possibly a star?

Jagged structures around you—half skyscrapers, half nightmares—loomed in impossible angles, their neon lights flickering in glitchy uneven patterns. The ground beneath you was scorched, still smoldering from whatever eternal fire had tried and failed to burn it all away.

You swallowed hard.

Something in the back of your mind whispered what you already knew.

This wasn’t a nightmare.

You were dead.

And this was Hell.

For a long frozen moment you simply sat there, staring at the pavement beneath you. Your breath came shallow and uneven. Your pulse—if you even had one anymore—drummed against your ribs.

Then your fingers twitched.

Something was in your pocket. Something smooth and solid...something familiar.

You slowly reached down and pulled it out:

Your phone.

A relieved breath escaped your lips. "Oh thank goodness."

The cool glass felt real in your hands, grounding you in a way nothing else could. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe you could figure this out. Maybe you could find a way to call someone—

You glanced at the screen only to freeze.

No Service.

The relief shattered into ice-cold panic.

Your grip tightened, thumb swiping down to refresh—no bars. No Wi-Fi. No lifeline.

You tried again. And again. And again. And again. And again and again and again and again and again and again and—

Nothing.

Your stomach lurched. Your hands shook.

Something inside you snapped.

You sat on your knees, clutching the useless phone to your chest as you let out a wail. "NO! NO! NO PLEASE GOD! I'M SORRY!"

The words tore from your throat raw and broken. You gasped between sobs, squeezing your eyes shut as your nails dig into your palms.

"DON'T DO THIS TO ME! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS TO MEEEEE—"

A soft chime.

Your eyes snapped open, breath catching in your throat. Sniffling, you pull it down to see the glowing screen. Your apps were still there.

Then, with a cautious swipe, you opened your gallery only for your heart to nearly stop.

All your pictures? Gone. Every selfie, every meme, every thirst trap, every aesthetically-pleasing shot of overpriced outfits? Erased.

And in their place?

Pictures. Screenshots. Videos.

All of them evidence of every fucked-up thing you’d ever done. Torture. Blackmail. Setups. Your biggest and most heinous crimes, all caught in 4K with timestamps, captions, and receipts.

You scrolled through them casually like flipping through an old yearbook.

"Oh damn almost forgot about that one. Good times." you muttered, rewatching one of your personal favorites—a high-definition well-lit compilation of your greatest hits.

God it was better than TV.

Speaking of—

A chill crawled up your spine.

The temperature around you shifted as a strange charged energy pressed down on your skin. The lights flickered wildly for a moment, glitching, before steadying.

You slowly stand to your feet as a towering figure suddenly appears a few feet away.

He was sharp, all jagged edges and neon accents, his black and red suit crisp and immaculate. But what stood out the most was his head—

An old-fashioned television screen.

The glass surface flickered erratically between distorted sharp-toothed grins and warped images of you from moments ago, as if he had already been watching you. Recording you.

Behind him stood several other demons. All tall, hulking, waiting for orders.

"Well well well...what do we have here?" His voice came layered—not just one tone, but multiple. Overlapping slightly like an old commercial playing on repeat.

"Huh." You tilted your head. "Who the hell are you?"

The screen on his face glitched violently. His grin remained but the static in his voice sharpened.

"You must be newcomer. How quaint." He took a step forward, his goons following suit. "Allow me introduce myself—"

With a flourish, he spread his arms, crackling energy surging through his body like a failing broadcast tower.

"I am VOX, Overlord of the Digital Age. Master of television, entertainment, and media. Everything broadcasted, everything recorded—"he gestured widely to the neon-lit cityscape behind him, "it all bends to me. And you, sweetheart, are standing in my domain."

"Uh-huh. Cool. Anyway—" you slid your phone into your pocket, "I was kind of busy. You need something Static Boy?"

A nearby streetlight exploded in a burst of pixels and sparks.

"Do you even comprehend where you are?" His voice was calm, but beneath it was a deep growing irritation.

"Yeah yeah. Hell. Domain. Big scary Overlord." You waved your hand dismissively. "Honestly I couldn't give two shits right now."

The second those words left your mouth something shifted.

Vox’s face flickered as air around him spiked like an overcharged circuit.

You didn’t know this guy but you sure as hell knew that reaction. He hated that.

And suddenly you were interested. You leaned back slightly, crossing your arms, smirking up at him. "You must be one of those old-heads? Damn. You must hate people like me then."

Vox’s screen flickered again, his glow flaring slightly. "People like you?"

You grinned.

"Influencers."

There it was. That flash of disgust.

"Yup. TikTok mostly. Millions of followers. You know the usual." You grinned. "Guess we’re in the same industry huh?"

Vox’s screen glitched violently. "Your meddlesome kind have stolen relevance from true entertainment. It is no shock your type always finds its way down here with all the pollution you do. How dare you to even think you could be on my level?!"

You folded your arms. "Oh no. The evil TV man thinks I’m annoying. However will I recover?"

"You have no power here," he hissed. "I control what is seen. I control what is heard. I control what is remembered. Any pathetic influencers that land in my Hell?" He chuckles darkly. "I make sure they’re erased permanently. No fame. No following. Just nothing."

At that you finally laughed; a short and mocking, entirely unimpressed laugh.

"Oh. I get it now." You grinned. "You’re just pissed because TV isn’t relevant anymore. You’re an old man who's generation ruined everything for mines, and now you’re mad that social media overshadow you?"

The air around him screamed for half a second before steadying. His grin stayed but it was tighter now. "You’re bold."

You shrugged. "And you’re outdated."

Vox’s face flashed red.

A beat of silence...

Then chaos.

Vox’s goons lunged, their movements sharp and inhuman as they closed in on you. They were faster than anything you’d encountered.

You barely had time to react as their glinting claws shown from the glow of the city around you. Instinct screamed at you to dodge, but before you could even flinch—

The ground split open.

From the pavement beneath your feet a mass of glowing technicolor tendrils erupted—flickering and glitching like a broken screen.

They shot forward, lashing through the air with impossible speed, grabbing one of the demons mid-leap.

A choked gasp.

A wet, sickening rip.

The goon split apart; torn in half like he was made of paper, limbs flung to the ground in uneven pieces. Blood—dark and thick—splattered onto the pavement, sizzling against the heat.

Silence.

Your breath hitched as a sudden spike of ice-cold shock crawled up your spine.

'What the fuck was that?!'

You hadn’t moved. You hadn’t done anything. Yet the thing—those tendrils had responded...to you. Your hands trembled for half a second when it clicked causing your lips to curl into a smirk. Yes, it's true you hadn’t done that on purpose.

But you sure as hell weren’t about to admit that.

Flicking imaginary dust from your sleeve, you sighed dramatically. "Whoops. Looks like I do have power here after all. Tsk. And here I was hoping we could be civil."

One of the goons glanced at the still-twitching remains of his comrade. His claws flexed as uncertainty began to bleed into his soulless eyes.

Good.

You wanted them nervous.

Across from you Vox had stiffened.

You noticed the way his form falter, the faintest distortion in his glow—the first sign of something resembling hesitation.

That made you grin.

"What’s wrong old man?" you purred, stepping forward, your tendrils pulsing with a sickly glow around you. "Didn’t think I’d put up a fight?"

A sharp burst of static cut through the air, the pixels on Vox's screen distorting wildly before stabilizing. His red eyes burned brighter as he snarled.

"Kill that bitch!"

The remaining goons paused for half a second—then rushed you.

This time you didn’t wait. Something in your blood snapped and the tendrils moved. Like snakes they twisted through the air eeriely. They tore through flesh like it was nothing.

One of the demons barely had time to scream before he was skewered, his body hoisted into the air, his limbs thrashing wildly as the tendrils twisted and ripped him apart.

Blood splattered across your face.

The others didn’t even have time to run.

A tendril shot forward and wrapped around a demon’s neck—tightening, lifting them effortlessly off the ground before snapping. Another shot forward like a bullet, piercing straight through a demon’s chest leaving a gaping hole left in their torso as they collapsed lifeless.

Faster...

Every move was precise.

Faster....

Clean. Efficient.

Faster....

It was like you had done this before. Like this was natural. In mere minutes it was over.

You let out a low whistle. "Huh. That was easier than I thought."

The bodies dropped, the blood pooled. And only one remained:

Vox.

Your tendrils slithered forward, curling around his limbs, binding him in place.

But they didn’t attack.

They simply held him. Firm. Unmoving. A silent display of dominance.

Vox was still. His claws twitched but he didn’t move.

You smirked, stepping closer. "Aww," you cooed with mock-sympathy dripping from every syllable. "What’s the matter VCR? Cat got your tongue? I thought you ran this place."

A snarl ripped from his throat, his neon glow flaring with a sharp burst of static. "It’s Vox you insufferable brat!" he snapped, his already layered voice distortion from anger.

You tilted your head slightly with twinkling eyes. "Uh-huh. Sure, Video Cassette Recorder."

His claws flexed. The tension in his body was visible, his expression twisting into something sharp and furious.

And you?

You ate it up.

Your smirk stretched into something sharper. A tendril slithered up, curling delicately around his top hat. And with a quick flick—

You plucked it off his head.

Vox’s static screeched.

You twirled the hat between your fingers, adjusting it neatly on your own head before opening your arms wide with a dramatic flourish.

"I think I like this look," you mused, lips curling. "Very showman."

A pause.

"Or in my case—" You tipped the hat slightly. "Showwoman."

Vox’s glare was murderous.

Never had he been humiliated by the likes of someone like you before. Oh how he wanted to kill you.

And even worse?

Sinners had started gathering; from the alleys, buildings, and shadows—bystanders who had been watching it all in silence.

Some were even pulling out their phones to record the spectacle.

You beamed and struck a pose. "Go ahead and tag me! @Real___! Let’s make this go viral yeah?"

The crowd—because oh yeah, there was totally a crowd now—erupted in whispers.

You beamed.

Vox seethed.

"Just you wait," he growled through gritted teeth. "When I get my hands on you—"

Your brow raised. Your tendrils tightened ever so slightly. He lets out a glitching choke and immediately shuts up.

"Better," you coo. With exaggerated movements you began to sit down. Your tendrils shift beneath you, morphing into a throne-like seat, curling comfortably around your form.

"Now," Crossing one leg over the other with a pleasant smile, your elbows rest against the armrests as you leaned in slightly, voice mockingly sweet. "Be a dear and tell me everything I need to know about Hell."

[l0singsdogs]

batfam ! alternative universe, no powers.

I've had this idea for a while now. Spending so much time on social media, reading different takes, I started wondering—what if the Batfamily woke up in a completely normal universe? No aliens, no magic, no villains trying to take over the world every other week. Just… normal people, living normal lives—going to college, having relationships, working regular jobs. For a group of people used to fighting monsters and stopping world-ending threats, that kind of life would be unsettling.

read more, because this is long like really long.

But how did it happen? The usual way. A battle. A teenager getting their hands on something they shouldn’t have. Powers spiraling out of control. And, of course, the Batfam stepped in to fix it, because you know everything weird is always happening in Gotham. 

Batman calls for backup, but the family is still working through their issues. Dick and Jason barely talk, though they’re trying—because, at the end of the day, they’re still brothers. Then, suddenly, it’s just them. Just the Batfamily, thrown into this bizarrely ordinary world.

Duke sees the light first. Then Steph. Even Cass. And then—nothing.

They wake up somewhere else.

Bruce, as always, is the first to regain consciousness. But something is off. His mansion isn’t quite the same. It’s warmer, cozier. There are more pets curled up around the house. His bedroom is a mess—lived in. The walls are covered with photos of his kids. There are even pictures of him and Selina, scattered among them.

And then, he realizes just how wrong everything is.

His body aches, but not like it used to. There are no scars from old battles with the Joker. No lingering wounds from alien invasions. He still feels exhaustion in his bones, but it’s different—just the tiredness of a man his age, not the crushing weariness of a vigilante running on fumes. Even his reflection looks different. Relaxed, almost. Like he’s lived a life that wasn’t defined by war.

And that? That’s unsettling.

The next to wake up is Jason. And it's weird—because for the first time in years, his body doesn’t hurt. The familiar, constant pain is gone. The scars from his autopsy, from all the things that marked his past, aren’t there. He doesn’t feel the echoes of old wounds anymore. And where he wakes up doesn’t look like any of the safe houses he has scattered around Gotham. The last thing he remembers is fighting—arguing with Grayson over something stupid. Then the light—just for a second, he thought he was dying again. But, you know… in a way that wasn’t as catatonic? Then… he wakes up. The bedroom is unfamiliar, but somehow, it feels like his. Bookshelves are packed with novels of all kinds. Posters cover the walls—bands he actually likes: Rammstein, Linkin Park, System of a Down. A collection of motorcycle helmets is neatly displayed on a shelf. The whole place is put together, calm.

And then, the worst part. When he looks in the mirror, a scream rips from his throat.Because the thing that haunts him, in his life and in his dreams—his autopsy scars—are gone. Completely erased. All that remains is a single, unfamiliar scar near his heart.

Strange. The worst part? He has no idea why his head is pounding so hard. No clue why memories, both complicated and good, flash through his mind—but waking up from the dead isn’t one of them.

Dick is next.

And he wakes up pissed. Because, you know? He was in the middle of fighting with Jason. Jason, who treats everything like a joke. Jason, who doesn’t take things seriously when he should. Trying to fix things with him is exhausting—because Jason is too Jason. Stubborn, impatient, infuriating.

Then suddenly—this. The room is unfamiliar, but not completely. There’s a framed picture on his nightstand—him and Starfire. Kori Anders. His walls are lined with posters, some from his past. The Flying Graysons. His family.

It feels wrong. Off. Because he doesn’t live in the manor anymore. He doesn’t have photos of Kori in his room. And—most importantly—his bedroom has never looked this neat.

Not ever. There are no scattered pieces of his suit on the floor waiting to be washed. No mess of training gear dumped in a corner. Just sneakers. Gym clothes.

Then he hears it—a scream.

Jason. Dick tries to get up, but his body is too damn exhausted. It feels like lead, weighing him down. He can’t move. And for one horrible second, he wonders—maybe he died. Maybe he died and somehow took Jason with him.

The next to wake up is Tim—

Tim, who was already frustrated, tangled up in his own emotions. He had too much on his plate—leading his own team, growing distant from the manor, finishing his GED to leave high school early. Too many things were happening.

He wakes up to the sound of screaming.

For a second, he thinks he’s still in Gotham, still in the middle of that fight. But when he blinks, he’s somewhere else—another bedroom. And this one is a mess. Clothes on the floor, sneakers everywhere, a couple of skateboards tossed in a corner, video games and comics scattered around. The kind of room an eighteen-year-old should have.

Slowly, he opens his eyes.

He doesn’t feel the aches from past fights. He feels… lighter. His memories are hazy, and he can’t lie—this is weird. The light streaming through his window feels too warm, too bright. But the last thing he remembers? He was in Gotham, in the middle of a brutal winter.

And then—the worst part.

When he fully opens his eyes, he sees it.

A uniform.

One he knows from his nightmares.

Gotham Academy.

His blood runs cold. He’s convinced he’s trapped in a time loop. That somehow, he’s been sent back to high school.

And when he stumbles out of bed and catches sight of a framed photo—one of him and Conner Kent sitting on a shelf—he promptly passes out.

Yeah, sure, maybe the others think they’ve died.

But Tim?

Tim is convinced he’s in hell.

The last to wake up is Damian Wayne.

And he wakes up full of irritation, because the last thing he remembers is yelling at Drake, Jason, and Grayson—calling them idiots for letting their emotions get in the way of the fight. Telling them they were acting like children when they should’ve been handling the real problem. But now? Now he’s lying in bed, surrounded by warmth. His cat is curled up at his side. His dogs—Titus and Ace—are sprawled across the floor. Even Grayson’s new puppy, Haley, is nestled beside him. A tiny, scruffy thing missing a leg, one that Damian had reluctantly (not really) half-adopted in his head.

It’s the screaming that wakes him. That, and the warmth.

Because it doesn’t make sense. Why is the sun streaming into his room? Why does it feel like July when they were just in December? They were days away from the holidays.

And now this. The first thing he sees are his animals. Did the fight end that quickly? Did he lose consciousness? His body isn’t injured, his skills are intact—nothing about his reflexes feels off.

But the room?

That’s what unsettles him. The walls are covered with things—art, sports memorabilia, books, musical instruments. A guitar. Sure, he knows how to play, but he’s never been the kind of person to keep one in his bedroom. And speaking of his bedroom…

This isn’t it.

It’s missing things. His weapons. His swords. The League of Assassins insignias. His belongings. But what truly throws him off?

A framed photo. One of him and his mother.

Talia al Ghul never took photos. Not with him. Not with anyone. The League of Assassins didn’t believe in cameras, in preserving memories like that. And yet, here it is.

And that’s when it finally sinks in. Something is very, very wrong.

That’s how it happens. A wild fight. A teenager with uncontrolled, inexplicable powers. And just like that, the Batfamily wakes up in another universe.

A universe with no powers. No aliens. No world-ending crises. Just an ordinary life. And the only thing they know for sure?

Five of them find themselves in a living room. A living room that is distinctly not theirs. Because their living room is grand, filled with history, with antique furniture and endless shadows.

But this? This looks like something out of an interior design magazine. Minimalist. Sleek. A massive TV taking up the wall.

The others? Duke, Steph, Cass?

Yeah.

Their experiences waking up are even worse.

So, yeah. This is what I have in mind. I don’t know if I’ll keep writing—it depends on how this goes. These ideas just keep coming to me, and I’m debating whether to drop all of this as a one-shot or turn it into a full fic on AO3.

I’d love to hear thoughts on it—believe me, I have a lot more ideas.

[jackactuallywrites]

All Seeing, All Loving, All Knowing

Warning: Typical British drinking (alcoholism lite)

Summary: Drunk night out with your girlie! And also Ghost!

Notes: It is too amusing to me to constantly cocktease our readers I apologise for nothing

Word Count: 2,756

ao3 link

It didn’t matter how many times you heard that trainers were in at the clubs; you still couldn’t wrap your head around it. Trainers were for walks, painful heels were for clubbing, alongside bandage dresses that did their best to suffocate you.

You’d considered the trainers several times that night, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to wear them out, so you’d gone with ankle boots instead. They were a good compromise, you thought; they provided ankle support, and with laces, you could tie them tight enough so they wouldn’t rub and give you blisters, but they still had a sky-high heel, so you didn’t feel like you’d given up completely. That, and the skimpy bandage dress that was doing a great job of trying to suffocate you with your own boobs, which you’d hoisted up in a push-up bra. Helen was dressed similarly, though, with her bright pink hair, she was far more eye-catching. Not necessarily a good thing either, considering how many of her exes seemed to be out tonight, making her a beacon for lesbian dramatics. You’d already had to sneakily exit one club to avoid a particular ex of hers who had a penchant for throwing drinks, so you were hobbling across the cobblestones to a different club, praying that whatever drama would surely arise in that one wouldn’t involve a vodka lemonade to the face.

You were only halfway across the street, having had to pause to tie your laces back up, when you heard men shouting from down the road, shouting your name. Damn Helen and her hair! You had exes to avoid too! If it was Matt, you were running for it, untied shoes be damned. You abandoned your shoelace to look over at the group of rowdy men, only to find a familiar face at the centre of them.

Ghost.

It was weird to see him in such a pedestrian environment; you only ever really saw him solo in the middle of the night; to see him surrounded by lads in a busy club street was bizarre. He was dressed the same way he always dressed, blue jeans, black jumper, dark trainers, though he’d eschewed the mask. His face was still in the healing process, though the bruises had faded more, a strange green tinted purple on his skin. You could see that he’d had his hair trimmed too, practically a military buzzcut, a tragedy, right as it had been getting a little fluffy. The men around him were unfamiliar to you, but they looked military, big and beefy, all jostling one another with that typical smug arrogance that came with being in the army. Already, they didn’t feel like your type of men, but Ghost had separated from them and was making a beeline toward you.

Helen had been so distracted by a beautiful woman smoking outside that she didn’t seem to notice the group of lads until Ghost was mere metres away. The look on her face could have made a toddler cry, and she looked at you suspiciously, “Isn’t that that lad from the pub that time?”

“No?”

“Is he the sneaky link you’ve been hiding from us?”

“What sneaky link?”

Helen snorted, “You think we don’t notice? Please. You’ve had a little soldier on the side. That’s why you don’t host girls nights anymore.”

Well, she had you there. There was no time to bicker anymore; Ghost was standing right in front of you, his eyes flicking from you to Helen and then back to you. Helen regarded him haughtily, as she did with all men, “You gonna introduce yourself then? Or are you only a ‘two in the morning u up’ type?”

Yeesh. She really did like to embody the ‘man-hating lesbian’ vibe. It was a great vibe though.

Ghost wasn’t put off and instead offered Helen his hand, “Not my style at all. Name’s Simon.” She looked at him, then at you, and you widened your eyes a touch at her, silently begging her to be nice. She narrowed her beautifully lined eyes as though wishing she could stab her stiletto nails through his fingers, but she took his hand and briskly shook it, and you knew she was doing her best to crush his fingers, “Helen.”

Well, that was about as friendly as Helen got. You laughed awkwardly, trying to diffuse the tension radiating from Helen, “Simon! Hi! Hey! What are you doing here?”

He tilted his head at you as though he was trying to understand how you wanted him to act around your friends. “Just out with the lads. Some of ‘em only got back tonight so ‘m taking them out for a couple drinks. What about you, love?”

“Oh, you know, drinks and dancing.”

Ghost looked down at your heels and then at your face, one brow raised, “You planning on snapping an ankle?” He didn’t wait for a response, dropping down into a crouch, gently pulling your foot forward and redoing your laces tightly, forcing you to place a hand on his shoulder for balance. With one done, he tapped on your other shoe, and you shifted your weight so you could hold that boot out for him to relace, the leather snug around your foot. His fingers trailed over the back of your calf as he straightened back up, “That should keep you all night.”

It took you a good second to bring your brain back into gear; the sight of Ghost practically kneeling down before you, looking up at you with those eyes had filled your head with all sorts of images, wondering if the soldier in him was good at following orders. You needed to find out. You needed to have him on his knees in between your legs.

“You alright, love?”

He was looking down at you as though he was concerned, but you could see the smugness in his eyes, that faux innocence, like he didn’t know exactly what you were thinking about. You blinked away the images in your head, storing them away for later. Helen’s patience was beginning to thin; you could tell by the tapping of her fingers on her arm; after all, it was a girl's night, not a girl's plus Ghost, so you decided to draw a quick end to the conversation, a little emboldened by the shots you’d already had tonight. You leant up as far as you could get, resting both hands on Ghost’s chest so you could press a kiss to his cheek, leaving a little red lipstick mark there, “I’ll text you later, yeah?”

Now it was Ghost’s turn to look taken aback, but only for a second, his face quickly breaking into a wide smile, revealing the scars on his cheeks as the tissue pulled tight. He put one of his hands over yours on his chest, “You need anything you let me know, yeah?” You nodded, and he reached out to gently brush a thumb across your cheek, a tender gesture that made your heart skip and your insides tingle. He leaned in to press a kiss to your head, “Have a nice night.”

With that, he left you to return to his group, the berating from which you could hear even from so far away, though Ghost took no shame in his actions, looking immensely proud. Helen snorted and rolled her eyes at you, though there was no real bite in her tone, “My God, why don’t the pair of you just fuck in the middle of the street? Like a pair of teenagers, you are. Or unfixed cats. It’s nauseating.”

You dragged your eyes away from Ghost and back to Helen, wrinkling your nose at her, “Bite me. Not like you don’t eye-fuck every girl that looks at you.”

She grinned at that and linked her arm through yours, pulling you towards another club, “What can I say?”

A fair few hours later, your feet ached, your calves felt like they were going to cramp any second, and you’d danced so much that you were sure you’d worked off the empty calories of the many shots of alcohol coursing through your system. Helen had given up on her heels and was now walking barefoot next to you, emphatically explaining why it wasn’t her fault that taken women seemed to gravitate toward her. Neither of you noticed that there was still a wedge of lemon in her hair from where the lemonade had been thrown over her. At least you’d managed to miss most of it this time.

Walking in this state felt impossible, especially considering Ghost had tied your shoes so tightly you couldn’t figure out how to undo the knot, trapping you in your heels. You had no choice though so you soldiered on, practically dragging Helen to where the lines of taxis were.

“Little love!”

The shout was practically deafening, several heads turning to the sound, yours included. There he was, still with his mates, but he barged through them to get to you, a waft of smoke trailing behind him. Helen had found a lamp post to cling to instead of you, and Ghost took the opportunity to sweep you up into his arms, squeezing you in a tight hug, his face nuzzling into your neck. Clearly, he’d had about as much alcohol as you. But you weren’t about to complain, still buzzing, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, enjoying the scent of him mixed in with cigarette smoke and alcohol. He picked you up off the ground, and you had just enough time to grab Helen’s arm as Ghost carried you over to where his mates were leaning against the brickwork.

Without a word from you, he dropped you back on the pavement, his arms encircling your waist as he presented you to his mates,

“Wanted you to meet the lads, love.” He named them in quick succession, and you immediately forgot all of their names, mostly focused on trying to stand upright. Although, what did stick out in your mind was when one of the lads, Baz, you think his name was, mentioned how whipped Ghost was.

“Barely shut up about you tonight. You’d think other women didn’t exist.”

Ghost practically purred in your ear, “They don’t. Not to me.”

“Did you know he carries photos of you with him? Sure we caught him wanking in the barracks to one-“

Whatever Baz had to say was cut off by Ghost reaching over to smack him around the head, but it was too late. You’d already heard that delightful little piece of information, and there was no putting that back in the box. Ghost grumbled and hugged you tighter, and you thought one of his friends fake retched at the affection until you realised it was real retching; Helen was puking in the gutter. You wriggled out of Ghost’s arms to stumble over to Helen, rubbing her back as she emptied her stomach into the street, a disgusting rainbow of glitter amongst the chunder. Ghost sniggered behind you, but he reached out to pick up a few strands of Helen’s hair, holding them out of the way until she’d finished.

“Give us a bottle of water lads.”

From the group of men, a bottle of water was produced, and Ghost handed it to you so you could help Helen clear the spatter off her arm and swill the water to get the taste out of her mouth. She groaned, and you sighed, too drunk to be a caretaker but without choice. “I need to get her back home.”

“Where does she live?”

“‘Round Salford way.”

Ghost nodded, and he pointed out a taxi, “Let’s get her in one.”

It was quite cosy with five of you bundled in the back of the taxi, with Helen closest to the door, you on Ghost’s lap, and then two of Ghost’s mates on the other side. The three soldiers were engaged in some army nonsense, but you found it easy enough to tune out, your head resting against Ghost’s chest as his fingers stroked up and down your arm, your hand resting on Helen’s back. When you finally reached her house, he helped you carry her to the front doorstep, where her eternally patient sister awaited her, dragging her into the house. With your charge taken care of, it was back into the taxi with Ghost.

After the lads were dropped off, you were finally on the way back to yours, curled up in the back seat with Ghost, his arm draped around your shoulders as you laid with your arm wrapped around his stomach, half asleep. The idea of having to walk up to your flat sounded like sheer torture, and you were quite tempted to see if you could fall asleep in the taxi, but Ghost wouldn’t allow it.

“Come on, darlin’.”

You grumbled about your shoes, so he simply reached into the taxi and pulled you into his arms, carrying you like a princess. He paid the driver, then whisked you up to your apartment, surprisingly steady considering how much he’d been drinking. There was some fumbling with the locks as he tried to juggle both you and the keys, but he managed, carrying you over the threshold and shutting the door behind the two of you.

Roach and Soap knew better than to come and see you after a night out, knowing that you were likely to try and cuddle with them, so the apartment was quiet as Ghost walked you into your bedroom and laid you down on the bed, moving back to deftly undo your laces, releasing your feet from the prison that was your heels, tossing them back into the living room. You were too drunk to care about propriety, just irritated by the tightness of your dress as you pulled at the zip, trying to get out of the bandage cage. Ghost’s fingers came up to assist, gently tugging the zip down until your body practically busted out of the damn thing. It was too tight, too irritating, so you had no problem letting Ghost gently tug the dress up over your head, leaving you just in your underwear and tights.

When you opened your eyes, having apparently closed them at some point, you saw Ghost crouched at the side of the bed, his hand resting on your thigh.

“You really are gorgeous, you know that?”

You looked down, seeing your own half-naked body, and then back at Ghost, a little bit of sobriety coming back into you. He tugged his jumper off over his head, then immediately pushed it over your head, not giving you much of a choice in being covered up again. You didn’t mind; the jumper was soft, and it smelled like him, and it was warm. It would have been easy to fall asleep like that, but you had other plans. You rolled onto your side so you could look at him, taking into account his bruised and battered face, the harsh features of his face a perfect contrast with the soft, loving way he was looking at you. He really was gorgeous, even if his face was a bit fucked up.

Your hand moved down to his, and you played with his fingers, “You coming to bed?”

“You inviting me?”

“Yes.”

There was a moment of silence, and you could see Ghost grappling with something. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face, his fingers stroking across your cheek and gently touching your lower lip before he backed up, getting to his feet. You frowned at him, “Where you going?”

Ghost answered you frankly.

“I’m going to have a wank in your bathroom.”

If you had been sober, you might have had more of a response to that, but you were drunk and tired, so you didn’t give it much thought, rolling over in the bed as he walked off, taking your bra off underneath the jumper and tossing it on the floor, then squirming under the covers.

Ghost returned a few minutes later, and you could hear the sound of him undressing, followed by the bed dipping as he got in beside you. His thighs were warm against the back of yours, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you close to his chest, his fingers tangling with yours as he cuddled into your back, pressing several soft kisses to your neck before he let his head fall on the pillow beside yours, joining you in peaceful slumber.

[daydreamabout]

Old Flames, New Patrols (Tim Bradford Imagine x exwife!reader)

Summary: When the precinct runs short on officers, you're transferred to fill the gap. Now, you're back on patrol with your ex-husband, Tim—as you realize how much of your confidence was tied to him, even after all this time. [mentions of domestic disturbance]

It’s your first day back at the precinct after the transfer. The air feels thick as you walk into the building, the smell of stale coffee and the sharp scent of bleach from the cleaning supplies hitting your senses. You’ve been away for two years, but it still looks the same—gray walls, buzzing lights, officers milling around, deep in conversation or focused on their desks.

You make your way toward the briefing room, your footsteps echoing through the empty hallway. Each step feels heavier, the tension in the air creeping up your spine. You haven't seen Tim since the divorce, and the thought of being in the same space with him again, working side by side for three months, is... unsettling.

You push the door open and step inside. The room goes quiet for a moment, eyes flicking toward you. Most of the officers don’t know who you are—just that you're the one here to help out. Your eyes immediately search for the familiar face you used to wake up to every day. There’s Tim, standing by the windows, arms crossed over his chest. He looks exactly the same. Maybe a little more worn down, but it’s him. His eyes meet yours for a fraction of a second, but he quickly looks away. You can’t tell if it’s relief or discomfort on his face.

Sargeant Grey is at the front, looking like he hasn’t slept in days. He clears his throat, and the chatter dies down. You take your seat at the back of the room, feeling all the eyes on you now. Tim doesn’t acknowledge you further, though you can sense him there, just within reach. It's almost suffocating.

"Alright, listen up," Grey’s gravelly voice cuts through the tension in the room. "We’re short-handed today, so we need to make it count. Y/N, welcome back. You’re only here for three months, so let’s make this time worth it. We need all hands on deck. Get familiar with the new assignments, hit the ground running. You’re in with Tim for your shift today. I trust you two can handle it."

You don’t miss the way Tim’s jaw tightens at the mention of your name. He doesn’t look at you, but his body posture shifts, a barely noticeable tension seeping through his rigid stance. Sargeant Grey gives a brief rundown of the cases that need immediate attention, but your mind keeps drifting back to your ex.

It’s strange. Working together again feels... weird. Your whole relationship feels like a lifetime ago, but the remnants of it are still there, sitting between you both. You’ve built your life, your career, apart, but here you are—back together in the same room. The silence between you both says everything that words can’t. He’s still the same —strong, sharp, focused. But there's a distance there now, a wall between you that wasn’t there before.

Grey finishes up with the details. "Any questions? No? Good. Get out there and stay safe."

The briefing wraps up, and officers start filing out, but you linger, just for a second. You grab your bag and head out to the garage where the cars are parked. Tim's footsteps follow behind you, the sound too familiar. You can feel him closing the space between you but neither of you says anything. He grabs his keys, but you don’t meet his gaze. Instead, you focus on the cruiser parked in front of you, doing your best to ignore the sharp pang in your chest.

“Ready?” Tim’s voice is low, controlled. He doesn’t wait for a response, just opens the door and slides in.

You hesitate for a moment, taking in the sight of the passenger seat you once called your own. The silence stretches out, thick and suffocating. Finally, you slip into the seat next to him, and the moment your seatbelt clicks, you feel the tension in the car increase. Neither of you says a word as the engine roars to life.

The drive to your first assignment feels longer than it should. Neither of you speak, both of you caught in that strange limbo of once being partners—both on and off the job—and now, just colleagues, with an unspoken history lingering in every shared glance and every breath you take in the confined space of the cruiser. You’re here to do a job, but underneath it all, it’s so much more than that.

The silence is almost suffocating as the cruiser rolls through the city, its headlights cutting through the darkened streets. You try to focus on the task ahead—on the job—but your thoughts keep drifting. His presence in the car, right next to you, brings back a rush of memories. The good, the bad, and everything in between. You can still picture him in your mind—the way he would always drive with his hand resting on the wheel, his jaw clenched in concentration, his brow furrowed when things got tense. It’s all still there, etched into your memory. But now, it feels like looking at a stranger.

The first call comes through over the radio.

“Domestic disturbance,” Tim says, breaking the silence. His voice is neutral, businesslike. No trace of the warmth that once was between you two. His hands grip the wheel tighter, his knuckles white.

“Right,” you reply, your voice a little more clipped than you intend. You don’t want to sound cold, but you’re finding it hard to slip into the routine of working together like nothing has changed.

You’ve been through hundreds of calls like this, but tonight, the familiar rush of adrenaline feels different. You can’t help but notice how Tim moves through the motions with ease, just like he always did. He’s in his element, despite the tension. He’s a cop, through and through.

He pulls up in front of a small house, the flashing lights of the squad car casting long shadows on the cracked sidewalk. A woman stands on the porch, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes wide and scared.

You both get out, and Tim’s already moving forward, his pace measured, controlled. You follow, but everything feels slow, like you’re wading through water. The distance between you both is tangible, and it’s hard to ignore.

“Ma’am,” he starts, his voice calm, authoritative, but soft enough to not add to the fear in the woman’s eyes. “What’s going on here?”

You stand off to the side, arms crossed over your chest, watching the interaction with practiced eyes. Tim does this so effortlessly—he’s always been the one to take charge in situations like this, his presence reassuring. It makes you realize, once again, how much of your own confidence came from being able to work alongside him.

Flashback

Tim sat next to you in the passenger seat, his presence a force in the small car. You’d learned to appreciate the quiet moments with him, the way he seemed to ground everything in an otherwise chaotic world. The air smelled faintly of stale coffee and something more like... pizza, maybe? But you didn’t ask.

“Do you ever just—” Tim started, his voice cutting through the quiet. “—stop thinking?”

You glanced at him as you maneuvered through the empty streets. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he continued, looking out the window. “You’re always so... together. Even when things are crazy, you handle it like you’ve got everything under control.”

You couldn’t help the dry laugh that escaped you. “It’s called faking it, Tim. You should try it sometime.”

He glanced at you, raising an eyebrow, but the corner of his lips tugged into that small, familiar smirk. “Right. But that doesn’t explain how you make it look so easy.”

Your heart skipped, but you pushed the fluttering feeling aside. Tim wasn’t one for compliments, so when he said things like this, it threw you off a little. You didn’t even know how to respond.

You had learned to keep a cool head, to act calm and confident on the outside, especially with him around. Working alongside wasn’t just about being a good partner. It was about survival. He had a way of making you feel like you could take on anything. And maybe, somewhere in the back of your mind, you’d begun to believe it.

But his question made you realize something. That confidence you projected? It wasn’t just something you’d built from your own experience. No, it was more than that. It came from the way Tim had made you feel when you worked together, the way he trusted you without hesitation, the way he always made sure you knew you were capable, even when you doubted yourself.

You turned your attention back to the road. “It’s... it’s easier when you know you’ve got someone watching your back.”

“Sounds nice,” Tim repeated softly, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he shifted in his seat. “You always seem like you’ve got it handled. Like you don’t need anyone.”

You didn’t look at him this time. “Well, I don’t need anyone to tell me how to do my job.”

There was a pause, and then he asked, almost like he was still testing the waters, “But you’re okay with me being here, right? With me helping out?”

You were taken aback, your fingers tightening on the wheel. It wasn’t a question you expected, not from him. There had always been a kind of unspoken understanding between you two, a connection that didn’t need words. But something in his tone made you realize maybe he was starting to see you differently, maybe even see through the walls you’d put up.

You had never thought about it like that before, but the truth was, you did rely on him. Not just in a professional sense, but in a way that ran deeper than that. It was something you hadn’t admitted to yourself. You didn’t need him to carry the weight of your confidence, but somehow, working alongside him made everything feel a little bit lighter.

“I never said I didn’t need you,” you finally said, the words coming out more vulnerable than you intended. “But I like to keep it... controlled. Keeps things simple.”

Tim didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel his gaze on you, searching, like he was seeing something you weren’t saying. His lips parted, but then he just nodded. “I get it.”

The conversation lingered between you for the rest of the drive, quiet and unspoken. But as you pulled up to the precinct and parked, something about the way Tim looked at you felt different. It wasn’t pity or judgment—nothing like that. It was just... understanding.

That understanding continued through the day as you went through your shifts. You weren’t sure when it happened, but you could feel Tim’s eyes on you in a way that wasn’t just professional. It was like he was seeing you for the first time—really seeing you—not just as his partner, but as someone who had built this unshakable front because of everything you had been through. Because of how much you depended on him, and how much you feared depending on anyone at all.

Later that day, when you were taking a break, Tim leaned against the edge of the car, his usual calm demeanor still present, but with something else in his eyes. “Hey,” he said, his tone lighter than before. “If you ever need to talk, you know... I’m here.”

You looked up, surprised by the softness in his voice. It wasn’t the standard "don’t hesitate" cop speak. It was... genuine. Maybe that’s what hit you hardest—how much he had always been there, even in the background. Always steady. Always reliable.

And maybe, just maybe, you realized that the confidence you carried wasn’t just because you were good at your job. It was because you had someone who believed in you, who was there in the trenches with you, whether you showed it or not. Tim had always been your anchor in the chaos and you allowed yourself to see it.

You smiled, a little more honestly than you expected. “I know, Tim. I know.”

You realized how much of your confidence had come from being able to work alongside him—because with Tim Bradford by your side, you didn’t have to fake anything. You could just be you, and that was enough.

Flashback end

You almost catch yourself looking at him, but you quickly look away, focusing back on the woman’s trembling form. She explains in a shaky voice, detailing a fight with her partner, a mix of shouting and pushing, nothing too serious but enough to scare her. It’s routine. No weapons involved, just tempers flaring.

He nods, taking in the information, his expression unreadable. You both move through the process of taking statements, confirming details, and ensuring the situation doesn’t escalate. Tim handles it like he always does—efficient, calm, with just enough authority to keep things from spinning out of control.

After everything is wrapped up and the woman is safely back inside, his head turns to you, his expression guarded but not unkind.

“You good?” he asks, his voice still holding that professional distance.

“Yeah,” you reply, though you’re not sure you are. The tension between you both is like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap at any second. But for now, you push that feeling aside. “Just... like old times.”

“Yeah.” His gaze lingers on you for a moment before he turns away, heading back to the car.

You both fall back into the cruiser without another word, the quiet between you hanging heavy in the air. The drive to the next call feels just as tense, if not more so. It’s hard to focus on the work when everything else feels like it’s shifting beneath your feet. You’re no longer the partners you once were, but here you are, side by side, forced to navigate the job together again.

Another call comes through, and this one’s more serious. A robbery in progress, shots fired. The words slice through the air, and Tim’s reaction is instant. His body tenses, his focus sharpening. He slams the gas, and you feel the jolt of speed as the city blurs around you. The momentary distraction of adrenaline sweeps the tension between you both aside. There’s no time for personal issues, not with this on the line.

“Stay sharp,” Tim says, his voice a low growl, a tone that makes it clear he’s in full cop mode now.

You nod, your body moving on autopilot as the car skids around corners, sirens blaring. Everything else falls away as the job takes over. The past is shoved to the back of your mind, at least for now. It’s just you and him again—partners in the field.

When you arrive at the scene, chaos unfolds before your eyes. Officers are already moving in, securing the area. The suspect is barricaded inside, and you can hear the distant crackle of gunfire. The tension is palpable, but Tim’s instincts take over. He’s the one you always relied on in these situations.

Without hesitation, he starts directing officers, calling the shots. You move with him, side by side, working in sync, though the connection feels distant now.

You both position yourselves at the entrance, ready for whatever happens next. But this time, there’s a stark difference between you and him. A line you both can’t cross, no matter how much you wish you could. The job demands all of you, and right now, that’s all that matters.

“Cover me,” Tim says, his voice steady but with that sharp edge you know all too well. He doesn’t need to say more—you know what he means. You always did.

As he moves toward the building, you stay behind, your hand resting on your holster, eyes scanning the surroundings. The air is thick with danger, and your heart races, not from the nerves of the situation, but because you’re working with him again.

As the situation continues to unfold, you can’t shake the feeling that something is missing—the warmth, the camaraderie, the bond. It’s all there in the motions, in the way you both know what the other is thinking without words. But it's not enough anymore. It never will be. Not after everything that’s happened.

When the dust settles and the situation is handled, you both stand in the aftermath, silently assessing the damage.

“Good work,” Tim says, his voice colder than before. But there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something you can’t quite place.

You nod. “You too.”

As you head back to the cruiser, the weight of the day presses down on you, and you realize just how much you’ve missed this—being out here, in the field, with Tim.

But you also realize that the things you miss aren’t coming back. Not the way you want the-, wait what?

[nighttimereader0]

Her Vision

Sylus x fem reader. I came up with this in a split second so ignore if it is written badly I had a spurt of energy, a bit of angst lol, low-key fluff.

Time had run out, and the feeling of flower petals dancing around her body had gone. The Abyss which once was a place of happiness and contentedness had now vanished and left behind a lonely woman clinging to the remainder of her beloved who was being carried away through the cold wind. It almost sounded like a familiar song but this time the song was ending. The life that was once in the Abyss had vanished and left behind tears and regrets of that same woman and most of all the powerful feeling of anger. The darkness came back ever so quickly and started to vanish as your eyes began to open the dim lights surrounding you became more visible. The satin sheets brush past your skin and you move your body into an upright position. The room looked more peaceful. What was that dream? Who was that woman? Thoughts began swirling in your head trying to think of what that small snippet of vision could mean. Sylus?! Where is Sylus? Getting out of bed, your feet touch the cold floor as you walk to leave the room you suddenly turn back looking at where you once had slept a feeling of urgency coursing through your blood, you quickly turn to leave and venture throughout Sylus’s home. The figure of a tall man started to appear in the kitchen as you loved closer the figure started to become more defined. Once you saw those ruby eyes a sense of relief washed over you. A relaxing feeling took over your body as you moved closer. “Didn't think you would wake up so soon sweetie.” Sylus looked up to peer into your gaze, he felt a distant feeling course through him, the memory of a time long ago had started to mingle with his mind. “You alright sweetie? You look a bit dazed” he questioned with concern on his face. “Yeah just a weird dream, was a bit startled since you weren't in bed. That's all” You look up at him with a small smile, you move closer and embrace him in a hug smelling in his scent which was rich and had a woody musk. “I’m here now sweetie, I'm not going anywhere” You both held each other. The weird feeling of souls that were once parted that had finally met again coursed around you both, a bond which was stronger than anything you had felt before was evident. The Abyss which was full of life had now only housed one being within its walls and the only feeling that was there was longing, maybe one day that woman would feel her beloved embrace again if only the world had not been cruel to her and taken the one thing that kept her sane. Her Beloved Dragon.

[fortunekookie07]

Dance with Me - Caleb

Finally the day had arrived. You walked to the den and found Caleb sitting at the table working quietly. His back is bent over his current project. You never really understood his fascination with putting together these models when he flew the real thing. But it made him happy to assemble the tiny versions.

Sometimes, you loved to sit and watch him work. The concentrated look on his face was so cute. His eyes would be narrowed, and his brow would be furrowed as he carefully put the small pieces together.

You call his name softly and wait until he turns around before presenting him with the box you were holding.

Placing the small box in Caleb's hand with a grin, you sit next to him. "Didn't we agree, no gifts this year?" He asks, setting down the wrench. The pieces of his model are scattered across the table.

You kiss his cheek. "This is one gift you don't want to miss." He eyes you and then the box before grasping the ribbon and tugging. The simple bow knot comes undone. Pulling the lid up, he stares down at a black and white picture.

Confusion furrows his brows as he picks it up and stares at the image. Slowly, a smile stretches across his face. "You mean?" He asks, looking at you with pure joy. "Mhh hmmm." You nod vigorously.

He pulls you up with him and starts dancing around the kitchen and into the living room. You laugh as he spins you around in a crazy rhythm.

"Caleb, what are you doing?" He brings you in close, and you can hear the thumping of his heart. "Dance with me!" He can't contain his enthusiasm. Finally, you collapse on the couch, but it seems he still has energy to spend.

"I'm going to be a farher!" He shouts and then runs to the door and throws it open before shouting the same sentence from the open door.

You shake your head at your childish husband. Eventually, he comes back to where you're seated and sits down before laying his head in your lap. Turning to face your still flat stomach and wrapping his arms around your waist. "How far along are you?" He mumbles into your stomach. Whether he is asking you or the growing baby, you're not sure.

"Almost ten weeks." You brush your fingers through his hair. You can feel his smile against your stomach. Is this why you've been weird with food lately." You know it's a rhetorical question.

Having grown up together your whole life, Caleb is more than familiar with your eating habits. "Yeah, Tara went with me to the doctor for a checkup last week. She was almost as excited as you were. Don't worry, you are the first to find out."

Caleb gets up and then pulls you up and into his arms. "Ca-Caleb! Where are we going!" You laugh as he waltzes over to the bedroom and throws the door open with his evol.

"There's still time! We might be able to make them twins!" You laugh at this man, with his vast understanding of sciences, saying something so absurd. But he won't hear of it and so you end up spending the rest of the day in your bedroom. He hardly let you up to eat or use the bathroom.

You stroke his bare back, listening to him snore softly as you lay tucked into his arms.

The path to your current relationship had been incredibly difficult. With all the secrets he'd tried to keep from you on his desperate and somewhat deranged path to keeping you safe. Then there was the aftermath when those secrets had come to life.

His mental health had hit an all-time low, and he'd come close to calling these life quits. It was honestly a miracle that you'd made it to today.

"This life isn't easy, but I hope you'll help me take care of your daddy." You say softly stroking your stomach.

Being with Caleb wasn't easy. Despite having known him your whole life, he felt like a stranger when he came back. A strange pretending to be the protector you'd always known.

When everything came to light and all his secrets, pain, and suffering were laid bare, it had been brutal.

Caleb was willing to end it all. If he couldn't have you, he didn't want anything anymore.

You still remembered the desperate look on his face that day. The raw fear in his eyes as he thought you were going to walk away from him. You hadn't been sure of what you wanted until that point.

But when you sank to your knees in front of him and hugged him, all had seemed right, like you just knew it was all going to be ok. You knew you didn't want to lose your best friend, and you found the strength and courage in your heart to save him.

Caleb had stood trial, and people were ready to throw the book at him. It was only when evidence came to light that he hadn't been acting of his own free will that changed everything.

He'd gone from the monster seeking to destroy the city to a victim. Forced to act against his will and better nature. The looks of pity they gave him had been almost as bad as their anger.

He still suffered from that time. His nightmares were terrible. Sometimes, he would cry in his sleep. Only holding onto him and assuring him he was not alone helped.

So, to say it had been a difficult year was an understatement. It has taken months to get Caleb reinstated in the DAA. His friends and fellow pilots had welcomed him back with open arms. Ready to have him at their side once more. Some friends really would stand with you through hell and high water.

Picking up pieces of a broken life was worth it in the end. When you got the news, the first person you wanted to tell was Caleb. You'd even sworn Tara to secrecy until you could break the news

Unconsciously, Caleb holds you closer, and you drift off to sleep.

****************************************************

Here we go with story 2!

Caleb was difficult for me to write, in that I struggle with adding depth to this story for him. I knew I wanted to have a theme for all five guys and I started with a thought, making very sure no story is the same and I believe I have succeeded, a you'll find out in thevdays to come.

I know Caleb was introduced near the beginning of MCs story, but his character is still very unknown to me. Hence my great struggle with keeping to what I do know.

So please don't come for me! I did put my best effort into this.

[bitchinbarzal]

Almost Hate | M Boldy

Summary: a reconciliation with Matt wasn’t in the cards for you.

-

Boston College had been big enough that you and Matt could’ve easily avoided each other. But for some reason, the universe had other plans.

From the moment you met, there was something off between you. No real reason, no dramatic backstory—just a constant, simmering tension that neither of you could shake.

Maybe it was the way he always seemed to have some cocky remark ready when you walked into a room. Or the way you refused to laugh at his jokes, even when they were actually funny. Whatever it was, it had followed you through four years of college, through mutual friends and shared parties, through stolen glares across campus.

And then, after graduation, life happened. You moved on. He moved on. That part of your life was over.

Or so you thought.

Minnesota was never the plan. But when a job offer came, one too good to pass up, you packed your life into a couple of suitcases and made the move.

You had been here for a few months now, slowly settling in, figuring out the rhythm of a new city. Which is how you ended up at a bar downtown on a Friday night, sipping your drink and regretting not leaving earlier.

Because the guy standing next to you? The one who had been trying way too hard for the last ten minutes? Yeah, he wasn’t getting the hint.

“Come on,” he says, leaning in just a little too close. “One more drink.”

“I’m good, thanks,” you reply, shifting back.

“You sure? Because—”

“She said she’s good, man.”

The voice is familiar. You turn your head and—of course, Matt Boldy is standing there, hands in his pockets, looking at the guy like he’s debating whether or not to shove him away from you.

The guy scoffs but mutters something under his breath before finally walking off.

You exhale, turning to face Matt fully. “Boldy.”

His lips twitch. “Still calling me that, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “What are you even doing here?”

He shrugs. “Live here. Play hockey here. What about you?”

“Same. Minus the hockey part.”

His gaze lingers on you for a moment, like he’s piecing something together. “Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“Yeah, well. Life’s funny like that.”

The tension between you is still there, but it’s different now. Less sharp edges, more… curiosity.

He clears his throat. “Let me walk you home.”

You raise a brow. “Excuse me?”

“Just—” He shifts his weight, looking a little unsure for the first time ever. “It’s late. And that guy might still be around. Just let me make sure you get home safe.”

You hesitate, but the sincerity in his voice makes you nod. “Alright, fine.”

The walk to your apartment is quieter than you expect. The city hums around you, streetlights casting long shadows, and Matt walks a step closer than necessary, like he’s making sure no one gets too close.

It’s nice.

Weird. But nice.

When you reach your building, you turn to him, crossing your arms. “So. You save me from a creep and walk me home. What’s next? We pretend we don’t know each other for another five years?”

A smirk tugs at his lips. “Actually… I was thinking I’d ask you out.”

You blink. “What?”

He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly looking almost—shy? “Look, I know we had that whole ‘hate’ thing going on in college, but I don’t think I actually hated you.”

You narrow your eyes. “You don’t think?”

He chuckles. “I know I didn’t. I just—” He exhales, meeting your gaze. “I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t hate. And now that we’re here, and I’m walking you home, and you’re still you, and I still… notice you—” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to waste time pretending anymore.”

Your heart stumbles over itself, but you keep your expression neutral. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying—” He steps closer, eyes flicking to your lips before locking back on yours. “Let me take you out. No tension, no bullshit. Just you and me.”

The old part of you—the part that remembers all the snarky remarks and stolen glares—wants to push back, to challenge him, to keep whatever this is at arm’s length.

But the new part of you? The one that sees the way he’s looking at you right now?

That part says, Why not?

So you tilt your head, smirking just a little. “Fine. But if you annoy me, I’m leaving.”

He grins. “Fair deal.”

[send-me-a-puffalope]

I’ve always been obsessed with the idea of Vanessa having memory loss due to trauma either post-possession in the games or post-MCI in the movies. So naturally, I’m thinking smth along the lines of Sophie Walten from TWF or Elizabeth Lail’s other movie Unintended.

Brainrot with me here: Vanessa-centric fic in which she’s been on anxiety meds since childhood and has essentially repressed most of her memories from childhood, remembering bits and pieces of the good times with her father but completely blocking out the MCI and William’s more abusive side. She remembers him as a good man who loved her, though he died when she was a teen.

Conflict starts when she runs out of her meds and she starts having weird dreams featuring children she doesn’t recognize but look familiar. They obviously know her though. They’re in a pizzaplex and she’s around the same age as them. The first night ends with her alone in the pizzeria. Something happened that she doesn’t remember but the next thing she knows, she’s awake.

She gets her meds refilled but doesn’t take them, instead looking forward to dreaming every night in hopes of figuring out more about this strangely familiar pizzeria but mostly because she feels a lighthearted, floaty joy that she hadn’t felt in years in her dreams.

She begins to start skipping work, instead obsessively sketching details from her dream she remembers because things were too familiar, too vivid to be just a dream. The next night begins much the same, except there’s a new character. A yellow rabbit. The dream ends with Vanessa sprinting to catch up to the yellow rabbit as he lures the final kid into the back room, but no matter how fast she runs, she can’t catch up. She wakes up to the sounds of children screaming still ringing in her ear.

Vanessa begins not showing up to work at all. Mike (unemployed), her only friend, shows up to her house with Abby in the backseat. He’s worried obviously since she hadn’t been answering any of his messages and he stopped by her work only to find out she hadn’t been showing up. Vanessa’s in rough condition. Disheveled, eyebags, dishes stacked up in the sink, and sketchbook papers crumpled up across the ground.

Vanessa thinks Mike won’t take her seriously because it’s absolutely insane to claim that there were murders that occurred at some secret old pizzeria by a man in a yellow rabbit costume and she knew that because she dreamt it.

But weirdly, Mike believes her. He asks if Vanessa wants to take a road trip to her old hometown and even offers to drive. Unfortunately she doesn’t remember where that is, so it’s a lost cause. Until they (including Abby) begin digging through all of Vanessa’s stuff in hopes of finding smth from her past only to find a very bare bones photo album (suspiciously empty, as if Vanessa had purposely disposed of many of the old photos because they were too painful to look back on). The magnum opus is a photograph of Vanessa’s 8th birthday at a very familiar pizzeria, labeled Freddy’s. On the bottom was scribbled an address.

The next day they set out with Abby in the backseat, singing to the radio and staring out the window, and Vanessa feeling the dread sink in. Mike noticed her spacing out and asks what’s wrong, with Vanessa responding that she couldn’t believe it took her this long to realize that she didn’t remember her childhood. She had faint flashes of memories but nothing concrete. She couldn’t even remember if she had friends, siblings, a mom. It’d always been just her and her dad. Vanessa asks him why he offered to do this with her. Mike’s response is that he’s no stranger to weird dreams and trying to change the past through them (Garrett).

The sun’s setting when they get there but sure enough, it’s Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, in all its abandoned glory. Vanessa is too shaken to move but Mike pressures her to join him in taking a peek. Abby is forced to stay in the car. Vanessa and Mike enter, trying the lights only they don’t work. Right when they’re about to turn tail, the whole pizzeria comes to life. The curtains pull back, the speakers blast 80s music, and the entire animatronic gang is on stage, jerking robotically in their horrific dance. Vanessa and Mike leave as fast as they entered, deciding it wasn’t safe and they’ll come back in the morning.

After a long, sleepless night in a local motel, Vanessa asks the owner if there was any kind of… murders that occurred around here only, to her surprise, for the motel owner to laugh and say duh. She’s surprised Vanessa didn’t know about the Missing Childrens Incident. After all, that’s all the town was really known for, even after all these years. Vanessa and Mike go back to Freddy’s. They take Abby with them but instruct her to stay in the car (she doesn’t listen). When they enter, to find, to their horror, that the animatronics aren’t on the stage anymore. Vanessa and Mike make their way through the back halls, getting to the security room and find the breaker box, turning it on and looking through all the barely working feeds only to see Abby, talking with something. She’s smiling and slowly walking towards that something. It takes a moment for Vanessa to realize she’s talking to Freddy. They sprint for the main stage to the sound of Abby screaming, hearts pounding, expecting the worst. Abby introduces the fazgang and Vanessa recognizes the names as her imaginary friends growing up. She comes to the conclusion that she came here growing up.

Hearing Vanessa’s name as Abby introduces her though, the animatronics have weird reactions. Some seem hostile, while others sad. Vanessa is taken aback. What had she done to make them act this way around her? She finds the wall of drawings. The one in the middle depicts the children from her dream. And one another little blonde girl. Her. And the yellow rabbit. Her conclusion is that she was supposed to also have been murdered in the MCI but managed to escape. Vanessa was supposed to have been the 6th missing child.

When they get back to the motel for the night, the motel owner makes a comment that makes Vanessa stop in her tracks.

“Yknow I always thought it was that handsome owner that did it.”

“Did it?”

“Killed those kids. Everyone always said Bill was too sweet of a guy to ever do something like that but it’s always the sweet looking guys people never suspect right?”

“Bill?”

“If you’re going to come around here asking about murders, at least do your research first. You’re embarrassing the locals. Yeah, William Afton. That’s the name and don’t forget it.”

“…yeah. I-I don’t think I will.”

Vanessa leaves the motel in the middle of the night. She goes to the pizzeria alone with a flashlight she stole from a 24 hour convenience store. She lingers alone the drawings again, reading names she vaguely remembered but couldn’t put a face to. Flashes of memories came coming back but they just caused more confusion. William Afton. William Afton. Her father. Her dead father who loved her. She thought harder. Her dead father who loved her… and she had no memory of how he died. She moved deeper into the pizzeria. Unbeknownst to her, the animatronics are following her, slowly encircling her and herding her further down the hallway funneling into the back rooms.

Who was William Afton? What did he do? How did he die? Did he love her? Is this love? Vanessa’s flashlight flickers and goes out. She hits it once, twice. It comes back on again, faintly. The beam of light illuminates the weathered head of an animatronic— no a springlock suit. The yellow rabbit. Vanessa held her breath. Then the eyes of the suit flickered on and the yellow rabbit jumped towards her, its gloved hand just barely missing her arm. Vanessa screams, running back into the hall only to notice the animatronics, their eyes now red, blocking the exits. She ends up locking herself into the security office, slowly unscrewing the screws of the vent to the sound of the power slowly draining and animatronics pounding on the door. She gets to the other side of the vent, escaping into the main room but being cut off from the entrance by the Yellow Rabbit, her dead father.

Behind him are Mike and Abby. Abby had noticed Vanessa was gone and the both of them convinced the motel owner to let them borrow her car because of an emergency. They’d come at a bad time however. And now they were being held hostage by the Yellow Rabbit.

His words are garbled but Vanessa can still make out what he’s saying. He repeats her name. Insults her like he did when she was a kid. Kicks her when she’s already down. He’s the one that turns the final key in her brain. She was never going to be the 6th victim of the MCI. She was the one who lured them back there in the first place. Because they were her friends. And they trusted her.

Vanessa yells back at first, finally letting out her anger and frustration. Finally (rightfully) blaming him for manipulating her into harming other people. For raising her wrong. For teaching her the wrong form of love: possession. There’s tears welling in her eyes as she stares up at her dad’s towering figure and suddenly she feels like a kid again. He grabs her by the neck and she struggles. He gives Vanessa one last chance to apologize for her insolence and her forgetting about him. She spits in his face instead and the entire pizzeria is silent as the sound of a blade tearing through skin fills the air. The Yellow Rabbit commands the animatronics to tear Mike and Abby to pieces in front of Vanessa, forcing her to watch as black fogs her vision. What he didn’t expect though, was for the animatronics to not obey him. Instead, they surround the Yellow Rabbit, looking towards Vanessa. She nods faintly and the animatronics each grab one of the Yellow Rabbits limbs, overpowering him. He yells and kicks and screams, becoming less and less coherent. Less human, more monster. A personification of agony. The animatronics begin to drag him to the back. Right before he’s dragged into the darkness, the Yellow Rabbit bellows as one of the animatronics rips off one of his limbs, showing the exposed human flesh underneath and leaving a trail of blood in his path.

Vanessa harnesses the last of her strength to get to Mike and Abby, her hands shaking too much to untie the knots so instead, because she’s thinking so clearly and assumes she’s going to die there anyways (in her head thinking, die where all the other kids died. die where i belong), she pulls the knife from her stomach and cuts the ropes bounding Mike and Abby before collapsing on the tiles.

She wakes up in the hospital with Mike and Abby beside her. Happy ending, my thumbs are tired. Abby highk did nothing this entire story, I just felt weird not having her. I did NOT realize how long this was, I just had such a distinct idea of how I wanted this to go. I applaud you for being one of like three people willing to read all of this.

[mydaystan]

so mh hi guess who’s back (day6) (day6 is back)

[oaksapling]

Ransom Greyson,

6'8 dhampir tattoo artist with daddy issues. recently lost his mother and decided to move to new york san myshuno from new orleans willow creek to find his deadbeat vampire father. goes back and forth on whether or not this was a good decision but well. he's pretty much broke now, so it is what it is.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently