#just been wanting to practice drawing them more

[jaythes1mp]

The Incident

Before the incident, you were no one special. 

Growing up, your family belonged to the middle class, your mother a waitress and your father a construction worker. You were an only child, raised by your grandmother from a very young age, as your parents were young and unfit to care for you. Choosing to spend their time working and partying with their friends rather than looking after their baby.

You hadn’t gotten into any of the colleges in your area, so you resulted in making a basic wage by working dual jobs. Saving up just enough money for some scrappy apartment on the outskirts of Gotham.

One afternoon, just before you were able to clock out of another grooly ten-hour shift, six masked women had smashed through the front windows, raiding the store.

The back room was dimly lit, with only a couple dusty desk lamps shedding any kind of light. You were shoved to the ground and forced to sit amongst the other victims while the women gathered whatever they came for. One of them, presumably the leader, began to count the people they had captured, when she stopped and took notice of you. It was the luck of the draw, really. 

You were terrified, practically trembling as the barrel was shoved up against your temple, the hard shove against your front being the only warning to move. 

You don’t remember much after that. Seeing four of the infamous masked fighters coming to rescue your fellow workers and subdue the other robbers. You, however, weren’t as lucky.

Just as the blunt edge of Robin’s katana was slammed into the side of the woman’s weapon, a shot rang out, echoing throughout the walls. 

The weapon was knocked to the ground by the force, completely out of her reach, and she was wrestled to the ground by the vigilantes.

You’re not sure why you fell, but everything suddenly felt warm.

As the room around you grew dizzy, your head spinning from the impact, the world around you felt like it was slowly fading, blurring and darkening at the edges of your vision. The ground was growing sticky beneath you at a rapid rate, turning dark as the deep red liquid began to seep and pour out around you like a spreading fire.

You remember all four of the vigilantes rushing towards you, their faces twisted into panicked masks unlike anything you had ever seen, not even the one time when you had broken your arm as a child. They were more worried than your father would have been at the thought of you dead. 

Oh... I’m dying.

You wanted to chuckle at how absurd it was. You were barely twenty four, and here you were, lying on the cold, dirty floor of a back room, shot through the chest. 

Fuck, my chest hurts.

A deep, shaky breath left your lips, watching as the last few moments of your life were spent looking at the frantic and worried faces of Gotham's heros.

You weren’t sure why they were so devastated. They had all seen death before, first hand. You shouldn't have been any different. and there was nothing special about you. You were just an average, worthless citizen, no friends, a shitty job, and an even shittier apartment.

Your hand moved to the hole in your chest, a pained scream ripping through your lips, your eyes squeezed shut.

Then it all went black.

Or.. at least it should have.

Instead, you woke up. 

Gasping frantically for air, you frantically looked around, your heart racing. The looks of the worried teens around you were inconsequential.

Your hands flew to your chest, clawing at the covered skin, looking for the bullet wound that had once been there. It's gone…

A deep, shaky breath left your lips, a relieved sigh following right after.

Then, you finally looked up to meet the eyes of your tenth grade literature teacher.

After the incident, you had found yourself flung back nine years into the past. However, this time, things were different from how you remember them to be.

Now, a cocky, billionaire’s son was claiming to be your best friend, your neighbours, who you vaguely remember having been old, crabby couples, were now completely different. Your old friends were nowhere to be found, And the ever prevalent vigilantes in Gotham seemed almost obsessed with you.

This is a slightly over-detailed synopsis.

I created this idea while I was working on chapter three for Here, Kitty.

If you’d like me to make this drabble into full chapters, then please reblog, comment, or message me. If it gets no interaction then I will understand that it was a shit concept and drop it. If not, then I have a lot of ideas for how the plot will spiral, and a potential twist-ending.

IF anyone was interested in it, then it would include both the BatFamily and SuperFamily, as yanderes.

Thank you for reading through all of this, lovely readers💚 Feel free to send in any suggestions or questions!!

[juletheghoul]

primus

a/n: Something a little different, I am obsessed with General Marcus and the idea of him becoming a gladiator. Hope you enjoy this other world I want to live in lol, no beta and barely proofread!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, body / breast worship-Marcus gives it so right🤤, hand-stuff - female rec'g, taking of virginity, (reader is a slave so there is a power imbalance but so is Marcus), gladiatorial violence, nothing graphic- let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 3.4k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

--

The crowd roars loud enough to deafen, the sound of it like a great wave threatening to wash you out to sea but it's nothing new, you’re used to it. The house you serve, have served since birth, has done well for itself in recent years, all thanks to one Gladiator.

Marcus Acacius, the champion of the house of Romulus. 

You’d seen him come in years ago and although you had been little more than a child, even then you could see what he had been reduced to, disgraced and defeated and practically at death's door. He had fought though, Gods knew he had fought. And just as you grew and flowered into a woman, he honed his skills anew, won matches throughout the city and had transformed from the disgraced General of Rome, to a true champion of the people. 

You could see it even now, watching him make quick work of the paltry opponents sent to fight him in the arena. He swatted them away like troublesome flies, and the crowd loved him for it. The cup was held out to you, just as the man in the sand raised his sword. 

“He really is of a form.” One of the hosts of the games remarked about the man fighting below, and your Domina smiled proudly. 

“My husband has taken him and honed him, I dare say none in Rome are his equal.” 

“We shall have to see about that.” The guest chuckled, not quite convinced but your Dominus laughed, unperturbed and unconvinced.

“My wife speaks truth, my Ludus has shaped him into a God of the arena.” 

They continued their friendly bickering, while you watched the man below, you couldn’t deny his allure despite being more than a few years older than you. He looked up to the pulvanis and saluted to his Dominus, to his Domina, and for a heartbeat it felt as though his eyes locked with yours. 

Lightning struck in your belly, the intensity of his gaze, even so briefly made your heart race. Ghostly fingers squeezed at your heart when the opponents fell on him, cornering him until he was surrounded. Attention locked on him despite your station, the laughs and doubts of his victory wreathing through the guests you served turned your stomach.

Deaths in the arena were a guarantee, that was to be sure. Every time your Dominus secured spots for his gladiators in the games it was expected that not all would return, this felt different though. He had to survive, why, you could not be sure.

“Aha! There we are. The legend of him is proved. He is victorious, and my wife’s words are true, as always.” Your Dominus smiles, kissing his wife’s hand as the doubters grumble about luck and ill-trained opponents. 

The words flow over you, the only thing that draws your attention is the man standing below you, victorious and whole.

–

“The good wine, fetch it for me girl.” The sun shines through the balcony as your Dominus congratulates the gladiators who returned to the villa victorious. His wife, your Domina, sends you for the wine while he speaks at length of their virtues, stoking the fire of survival and vanity in them.

In truth the games hold no interest for you, never had you particularly enjoyed watching men fight to the death, it was a waste and had you the choice, you would never attend another.

They cheer louder than before when you return with the heavy jug, narrowly avoiding dropping it when he turns and catches your eye once more. Marcus has been invited out of the ludus below, and up into the main house. 

He is much bigger than you expect. Tall and broad enough to intimidate anyone but the most surprising thing are his eyes, they are the softest thing about him.

“I would reward you, for your victory, for the honour and wealth you have brought to this house. Name your desire and I shall see it done.” 

You pour for your Domina, ears straining to hear his voice.

“You honour me Dominus.” It’s so rich, deep and full of smoke. Your main focus is on not spilling the wine.

“I confess, I have felt a desire of late.” Your ears perk up, eyes following suit and when they meet his, they’re already set upon your face.

“You want her?” Your Dominus looks to you now as well, and you feel like a piece upon someone else’s board, to be moved around at their will.

“Only if she desires me as well.” He bows his head, and despite the tiny bloom of gratitude in your chest, your Dominus laughs.

“If she is what you desire, take her. The guards will lead you to the private quarters below and you may keep her there until the morning. I will have wine and a meal brought for the both of you.” Your Dominus waves a hand and it is done. Your virtue has been gifted to a Gladiator. 

Your Domina frowns, but says nothing. She merely watches as you are led away, to spend the night with the former General of Rome.

-

The quarters are indeed private, but meagre. A lumpy bed, a small table with two chairs, an even smaller table with a large basin full of fresh water and clean linen, and a window. The door closes and your heart jumps into your throat.

“Shall I disrobe and lay on the bed?” You reach for the hem of the tunic, silently praying that he would not be too rough. The prudent thing to do, is to get it over with. 

“No, wait-“ his hand engulfed yours, stopping you from reaching down and pulling off the fabric that hides your nakedness from him.

“I would speak a while, come.” He gestures to the table and you frown.

“Do you not desire my virtue? Is that not why you asked for me?” 

“Yes, well, in truth I desire your company, as well as your body. I have noticed you of late, you have grown into a beautiful woman and I find my thoughts drifting to you often. Of your voice and of your touch. I dream about you.”

Your eyes widen, shocked into silence by his confession.

“I would have you enjoy our coupling, rather than simply enduring it.” His eyes dart away from your form when the guards bring a platter laden with food and drink, and when he gestures again, you finally sit.

He takes his time cleansing himself of the grit and grime of the arena, scrubbing away until a handsome, lined face appears underneath. Once clean, and armor free he sits with you, and urges you to eat.

It is a silent, slightly tense meal. Your fraying nerves had you mostly picking at the fruit and cured meats. The flutter in your belly kept you from overfilling it. 

“How long have you served in this house?” His eyes are bright, curious.

“All my life. I was born in this house.” Your fingers fiddle with the edge of your tunic. 

“Are you treated well?”

“I mostly tend to the Domina, she is very kind.” Your eyes drift to the bed, and the bottom of your belly falls again to imagine what he’ll ask of you once his own belly is full. 

“You spoke of your virtue, you are as of yet untouched?” His voice lowers, almost apologetic. 

“Yes. Well, untouched by anyone, except myself. There have been covert kisses here and there, friendly ones with others of my station.” He says nothing, but his gaze travels the expanse of your body. The slide of them is heavy from your breasts down to the slit in your tunic. His food sits forgotten on the small plate in front of him, and now there is hunger of a different kind on his handsome face. 

“Do you find me desirable?” He leans back in his chair, broad and golden from the sun. Heat blooms in your chest, filling the corners of you. 

“You are kind upon the eyes, I will not lie.” He smiles at this, and the heat spreads to the place between your legs, the place he will fill soon and a shudder travels along your spine.

“Have you enjoyed my victories in the arena?” 

“I confess, I do not favour the games. Watching men kill each other holds no interest for me.” He laughs, surprised yet delighted. 

“And yet you live and serve in a ludus, watching gladiators come and go your whole life.” 

“The Gods have their reasons, I do not presume to question my place.” You shrug, unable to stop the corners of your lips from pulling up into a shy smile. 

“Perhaps it is I who is blessed to end up here, in your company.” He muses and for a moment you cannot face his direct stare. “Come, lovely one. Let us to bed.” He rises, holding out his hand for you, It engulfs yours when you accept and join him. 

Butterflies swarm as he guides you to the edge of the bed, the fine hairs all over your arms and legs standing on end when those rough, calloused palms skate softly over the curve of your shoulders. His breath fans over your face as he reaches the bottom of your tunic, pulling it up and off. The urge to bring your arms up over your breasts, to reach down and cup your sex makes your hands shake. 

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” His hands settle on your hips, squeezing at the flesh for a moment before removing his own layers. The sight of him, naked as you, with his heavy sex hardening before your eyes makes you shiver, part nervous, part exhilarated. 

When he lays you down, you part your thighs to make space for him, once again praying the pain won’t be unbearable. The confusion paints your face in a frown as he lays beside you, and not directly on you. 

“I would have you wet for me before I slip inside.” His tone, his words send another shiver down your spine before he presses his mouth to yours. 

You have kissed before, a soft press of your lips to another, the barest taste of their tongue between rebellious giggles in the dark. Marcus’ kiss is nothing like that. He pulls you close, turning your body to press it to his, the stiff peaks of your breasts meeting the solid wall of his chest as his tongue slips past your open mouth and tangles with your own. For a moment, it is a little awkward but he guides you, pulling away before pressing forward again, leading you in his rhythm. 

Your heart races, a curious excitement pooling low in your gut, in the yet untouched place between your thighs. You press them together while he claims your mouth. 

When he pulls away, his breath comes out in pants and his sex presses hot and heavy against your belly. 

“Lay on your back my sweet.” He kisses your shoulder, and you obey. Now, you think, now he will shove that thing inside me and rip me in half. You swallow thickly at the thought, it is so much thicker now, too big, surely. 

He presses kisses to your shoulder, trailing them down to your arm, then the side of your breast before he pulls your nipple into his mouth. The steady suck of his mouth at the hardened peak forms a direct line to your cunt, the ache in it pulling a whimper from your mouth and a huff of self-satisfied laughter from him. Your skin is shiny with his spit when he lets it go. 

“Does that feel good?” His hand holds the plump of your breast, tongue flicking against the peak while you nod, mouth-open in a silent stare. “What do you feel?” He sucks at it again, harder this time and a gasp leaves your mouth. 

“I feel, hot. Warm all over, and an ache–” You pull in a sharp breath when his teeth pull teasingly at the bud. He soothes with his tongue, pink-cheeked and focused. 

“Where do you ache?” He lets go, smoothing his palm in the valley between before holding the other one, and worshiping it just the same. 

“I ache–oh, I ache–” It’s hard to focus when he sucks at the other nipple, your thighs pressing together without your permission. He stops, eyes flitting about your face.

“Where do you ache, tell me.” 

“I ache here.” He follows your hand as it cups your cunt, the soft, fine hair there soaked in arousal like you have never known. He groans to see it, and then his hand pushes yours away, slipping between your thighs to pull them apart. He leans on his elbow, muscles glinting in the soft candle light as his fingers spread open the lips of your sex, exposing your dark pink insides to his gaze. 

“Your pretty little cunt is so much better than I dreamed, spread your legs for me my sweet, I would work her open to take my cock.” Your heart races, your cunt clenches and then his fingers find the crux of you. They swirl slowly around the pert, sensitive pearl of your clit. Your mouth drops open in a silent ‘O’ at the way he manipulates you. 

“So wet already.” He lowers his head, lips wrapping around a nipple again as he keeps his slow, maddening circuit. Your hands grip the threadbare linen beneath you, whole body clenching as he shoves you closer and closer to a shattering climax with his slow, delicious circles. 

“Doesn’t that feel good? Doesn’t that feel so good, my sweet?” He presses his lips to your neck, whispering into your ear and you nod, frantically, clenching around nothing while the edges of everything blur with the threat of pleasure. Around, and around, and around he swirls, consistent, devastating until you can almost taste it. 

Your mouth forms a steady chant of yes, yes, yes, as he continues his gentle exploration between your legs, fat pearly drops of his own arousal slipping against your hip but he is in no hurry. 

The ache intensifies, the slick pools at the mouth of your cunt, and it's with a final, wet swirl that your climax washes over you. Your legs clamp shut around his hand, your body folds in on itself with the strength of it but it does not stop him, two thick fingers spear into your fluttering entrance, stretching and drawing out the pleasure of it while you gasp into his kiss. 

“Gods above.” You whisper to yourself as the blood pounds in your ears, the warmth of his skin, the slick, rhythmic sound of his fingers working away between your legs stoking the fire once more. 

“I could spill just watching you.” He pulls his fingers out, dripping in your lust and shoves them into his mouth. “Sweet as summer wine.” He licks them clean, vulgar and sweet all at once. 

Again he reaches between your legs, slipping his fingers inside once more but with his thumb swirling around the crux of you. 

He brings you to climax again, more intense with his fingers inside, petting at a divine spot you’ve never touched, and again, he doesn’t stop. He repeats his movements, his tongue flicking at your nipple, or licking into your mouth, until it’s too much and you push his hand away. 

“Please, no more–I cannot.” You gasp for breath, skin shiny with sweat, the spot beneath you wet where your arousal has dripped down and soaked through the linen. 

He laughs softly, proud and cocky at how many times he made you fall apart under his hand. 

“If you would let me, I would do that for days.” He presses another kiss to your shoulder before moving up and settling between your thighs. The nervous flutter intensifies as his cock slips between the mess he’s made of your sex. 

“I think you are open enough to take me now, I will try to go slow.” He kneels back on his haunches, lifting one leg up to hold. His fingers curl around the top of your knee, your calf resting on his shoulder as he grips his cock in the other hand.

Your belly trembles, part embarrassed, part excited to be so exposed to his gaze. The blunt end of it slides through your swollen folds, coated in your slick before he notches it and it’s with a slight burn that he slips it in. Inch by inch he presses forward, molding you to accept him, shaping you to fit him like a glove. 

“Gods above.” He curses low as he bottoms out, so deep you feel him in your lungs. 

Your hands ache from how tightly they grip at the fabric beneath you. 

With a shuddering breath he holds himself still, allowing you a moment to get used to the intrusion of him, only a moment. 

A sharp thrust pulls a gasp from your lips. His grip on your leg tightens, the other hand slides up and holds onto your hip, steadying you to accept the snapping of his hips. 

The flex in his arms, the strong, firm muscles of his thighs pressed up against yours, the sheen of sweat glinting on his face and on his chest, all of it only makes it better, his beauty and his obvious desire for you serve to make you leak around him. You can feel it, dripping down your ass to add to the damp spot beneath you, it collects at the base of him too, drenching the curls there.

Your pants, his heavy breathing, and the vulgar sound of his skin slapping against yours is the song of your coupling. The burn is replaced with a pleasant feeling of fullness. It is not as good as his fingers at your clit but his obvious pleasure adds to your own. 

“I’m going to come, going to fuck it deep inside of you.” Sweat drips down his nose and the vision of him, so like when he’s in the arena might push you closer to another climax. 

“Here it comes–” He presses your legs up, opening them wider, folding you in half while he fucks into you hard enough to make the bed shake. With a low groan, and a thrust deep enough to hurt, he swells impossibly thicker for a moment before emptying himself inside you. 

He shudders, grinding himself deeper as you wince, milking himself inside your body before pulling out and falling onto the bed beside you. 

You catch your breath for a moment. Surprised, and grateful that despite there being the edge of violence to his taking you, it wasn’t the brutal, awful experience you were afraid it would be. Considering your station in life, it was quite nice. 

“Give me a little while, and I will be ready to take you again.” He turns and presses his lips to your shoulder again. 

“Again…? You wish to take me again?” There is clear confusion threaded through your voice, but he laughs, goodnaturedly. 

“Oh yes, I have you for this one night, I plan on taking advantage. Did you not enjoy it?” He rests on his elbow, head held in his palm while his other hand skates over your skin, raising goosebumps in its wake as it palms one breast, then the other. 

“I enjoyed your fingers, you brought me to climax more than I ever have on my own in a single night.” You curl onto your side towards him, soaking up the warmth of his skin. 

“But you did not enjoy my cock?” His hand lands on your hip, holding you there and it’s curiously exciting how much skin he can touch at once. 

“It was… a lot.” He laughs, nodding for you to continue. “I liked the fullness of it, but you were very deep. I could feel you in my belly and when you spilled it was intense.” He lets out a groan before pressing forward and stealing another kiss. 

“It will feel better, we have to find which position you like best. Which angle you enjoy more.” He pulls you closer, tilting your chin up for another kiss, softer this time. 

“What position do you enjoy most of all?” Your hands gravitate to his chest, pressing against it to feel his heart thumping against your palm. 

“I am partial to being ridden.” He smiles, lip caught between teeth and heat floods your body to know he is imagining it. 

“Why do you favour it?” 

“Because I like when a woman takes her pleasure from me, It pleases me, to please her.” You could see it then, his soft eyes staring up in devotion as some faceless woman rides his cock. The longer you think on it, the more that faceless woman starts to resemble you. 

“I would have you like that next.” He smiles, and you smile back, nodding. 

By the time the sun rises, he has taken you every way you can imagine and your sex is so sore you don’t think you’ll be able to walk without wincing. 

When the guards come to take you both back to your respective places, they have to physically pull him away from you, his lips pressed against yours in a goodbye kiss. 

“You are the only prize I will ever ask for.” He calls over his shoulder as you smile at him.

For the first time in your life, you are excited about the next games.

-

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[jjenthusee]

🎃 Halloween Shenanigans Pt.2 🎃

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: i’m like the only one wearing a halloween themed shirt on campus rn so im kinda sad no one wanted to be festive 😭 but HAPPY HALLOWEEN ✨😌✨ i’ve been busy with exams this week, so sorry for the short drabbles lately, but ENJOY :) comment if your comfortable, reblog and u will get some flowers 💐 and like if u can <3

Tags: MATCHING HALLOWEEN SHIRTS, worried jason, reader is going to give jason more white hair, pumpkin carving

Check out pt. 1 here!

You grabbed the two round pumpkins, setting them on the table right next to each other. Each picked with the intention to carve them.

“Maybe we should’ve grabbed some carving tools cause all I’ve got are the stuff from my patrol.” Jason came out, wearing the same Halloween themed shirt as you did, holding onto very sharp and dangerous knives that he kept somewhere deep in his utility belt. “They’re clean by the way.”

You glanced over to where he was standing. You watched how he effortlessly handled them.

“Do you trust me with those?” You asked him, raising an eyebrow in question while glancing at the glistening edges of the recently sharpened knives.

“Uh…” Jason contemplated, staring at your eyes shining at the opportunity to handle something so deadly. “Maybe I can run to the store.”

He started to safely put them away.

“They’ve practically replaced all the Halloween stuff with the next holiday items, so we have no choice.” You started to reach for the utility belt.

“And leave you with a knife dangerous enough to cut through Batman’s grappling lines? Yeah, that’s a great idea.” Jason started to turn around to put back his patrol gear.

“Wait! I have you. You’ll help me.” You tried to reason. “It’s also Halloween, we can’t go to the store, there will be nothing there.”

Jason looked back at you, mentally listing all the dangers. His white streak of hair drooping as low as his frown when he couldn’t find a sliver of reason.

“Pleaaaase.” You kept persisting.

Jason sighed.

“This is a horrible idea.”

“Yay!” You cheerfully walked back to the table, getting out a sheet of paper, inking Red Hood’s emblem on it. You were originally planning to do a ghost design, but you had to make sure Jason would let you carve this pumpkin tonight, no matter what.

And if that meant being a suck up, then you were carving that emblem like your life depended on it.

Jason sighed again as he pulled out the chair next to you, watching you draw.

“You really aren’t holding back.” He pulled your chair right next to his, resting his arm on the back to minimize some distance between you.

“Only cause Red Hood is the most handsome, amazing as hell, sexiest vigilante in the entire world.” You smiled wide, patting Jason affectionately on the cheek to seal the deal.

He grabbed your hand, pecking a small kiss to the inside of your wrist.

Gleefully you leaned back, turning your head to kiss his shoulder. The fabric of your matching shirts meeting the edge of your mouth.

You got back to your art piece, trying to make sure the design was perfect.

As Jason watched you, you just let the thoughts of your mind run out. Dinner plans, did you get enough candy for tonight, how you planned to watch all the horror movies you could.

It was questions filled with excitement to Jason as he nuzzled into you, giving as fast of responses as he could, but a big smile was on his face as he listened to you talk and ramble.

“Maybe I could dress up as you next year.” You thoughtlessly said, puncturing holes in the pumpkin for your outline.

Jason’s eye widened. He strangely really liked the idea. A little too much.

“Could you imagine me saving you?” You chuckled to yourself, imagining trying to carry Jason in your arms to safety. “I might have to start exercising to build up the muscle.”

You started your plan in your head. Your eyebrows lowering and nodding as you were starting to like the plan.

“Then I can take a photo of me carrying you, dressed as you.” You looked back at Jason, seriously meeting his gaze.

He was taken back, at your intensity and the clear devotion you were willing to put in.

“You can’t carry me.” Jason lazily shook his head, reaching up to rub the back of your neck affectionately.

“Just you wait. I’m gonna do it.” You turned back to carving. Determination seeping into your veins.

Jason let you get back to mentally planning as he worriedly watched your every move. This was a very dangerous activity. He shouldn’t have let you do this at all.

Once your arms were getting tired from carving, you put the knife down.

“If I can’t even carve this, how will I carry you?” You leaned back into your chair, back into Jason’s side.

“I can finish it.” He kissed your temple.

“No, I’m determined.” You puffed.

Jason was going to break out into a cold sweat.

—

After much arm strength and a piece of candy, you managed to carve out the pumpkin, but it wasn’t that good.

There were knife marks in areas you didn’t mean to put, it was a miracle that you managed to get the general shape of the bat symbol.

“Maybe I’ll let you be the one to handle the knives from now on.” You put the candle in the hallowed center, gently lightning the carving.

You admired your work despite how clumsy it looked.

“It’s perfect.” Jason was finally breathing, he held every breath each time you stabbed the pumpkin.

“Let’s put it outside!” You placed the pumpkin outside your front door.

Jason had managed to carve his, the iconic pumpkin face next to yours. He finished his as quickly as he could since he didn’t want to leave you unsupervised for too long.

He definitely won’t forget another carving kit after this year.

[seven-gill]

Hrng more WoF character sketches while I chip away at my other projects. Featuring even more green SeaWings.

1. Rendering practice with Turtle against The Brightest Night’s cover. I rewatched Klaus and fell in love with that movie’s style and it inspired me to try something other than flat shading. Definitely gonna be implementing that with my Listener headshot.

2. Shark and Moray concept exploration. I like the idea of Shark having tiger shark stripes. Not terribly satisfied with his coloration as I mostly borrowed it from the graphic novel. Moray was fun. Maybe I made her too eel-ish but I enjoy exaggerating designs and then reeling them back down into something a little more concrete. For this concept I went in a direction that made her vaguely unsettling but also a little vacant in the head. The only thing she’s ever thinking about is Coral. I wish I knew what her deal was. I bet Coral played a heavy role in her upbringing to ensure she was subservient and completely worshipful of her in order to avoid a potential challenger. I’m definitely strolling into headcanon territory here, but we’ve never met Moray’s mother, so my theory is that Coral stepped in after her untimely death (or disappearance ooo), as a way to control Moray. I could absolutely see it causing bad blood between Shark and Coral.

3. Shark again, but with an emphasis on shapes. He’s much more rectangular and sharp with a dark, heavy brow. This is my final version for the time being. I gave him a little wobbegong beard and the eyes of a man who is dead inside.

4. Ah, and Whirlpool. He’s been a favorite to draw because I get to revel in villainous design tropes. I didn’t want to make him overtly ugly, but he does have an unsavory look going on. Leaned into a scheme-y advisor archetype. He’s drippy and downturned with large, heavy, lidded eyes. I, uh, weirdly enough ended up taking a lot of design inspiration from Micolash (Bloodborne), primarily in the eyes and the smarmy grin. He’s my personal headcanon for Whirlpool’s voice even if the characters are hardly alike. Micolash’s voice just has this perfect oozing quality to it that makes my ears itch. If not him, then my other choice is that guy from the “what would you call this in English” meme. Y’know the one.

[falafelluva]

Hiya!!! I was wondering if you could write kenan being a girl dad. Like he come back from training with flowers for you and your daughter, and he cuddles both of you on the sofa (like being real cute)

Not sure if that makes sense 😂😂😂

Thank youuuu. x

; 𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝘬.𝘺𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘻 ✮

summary: the req basically

warnings: x

author’s note: it made sense to me dw bae🫡, I hope that this is something close to what u wanted 😔👍😔👍

Kenan’s footsteps echoed softly in the hallway as he entered, balancing two small bouquets behind his back with a grin. It had been a tough day of training, but he knew exactly how to lift everyone’s spirits, especially his girls.

He spotted you on the couch, comfortably tucked under a cozy blanket, while little Leila was sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by crayons and her latest coloring project.

The moment the door clicked shut, Leila’s head popped up. Her eyes sparkled when she saw Kenan standing there with something hidden behind his back.

She pushed herself up, a huge smile already spreading across her face as she ran toward him, her small feet pattering excitedly across the floor.

“Baba! What’s behind your back?” she asked, practically bouncing on her toes.

Kenan crouched down to her level, bringing his hands forward to reveal the bouquet of daisies, her favorite flowers. Her face lit up, and she gasped, holding her hands out as he handed the flowers to her.

“Did you pick these, Baba?” she asked, clutching the daisies as if they were the most beautiful treasure she’d ever seen.

Kenan grinned, ruffling her hair. “Ja, of course. Just for you,” he said with a wink, knowing it would make her day to believe he’d hand-picked each one.

Leila turned, skipping toward the coffee table to place the daisies in a little cup of water she’d set aside. To her, it was the perfect vase, and she arranged the flowers with the utmost care.

As Kenan walked over to you, he brought out the second bouquet, a lovely bunch of your favorite flowers.

leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead as you accepted them, a warm smile spreading across your face.

“They’re beautiful, Kenan. Thank you,” you whispered, inhaling their sweet scent.

After a quick shower and change, Kenan joined you both in the living room. He settled onto the couch beside you, letting out a contented sigh as he stretched his long legs.

Leila soon noticed, bringing over her coloring book to show him the rainbow-colored picture she’d just finished. She held it up proudly, and Kenan took it, examining each detail like it was a masterpiece in an art gallery.

“Look at this, mama!” he said with mock-seriousness. “Did you see how talented our Leila is?”

You smiled, reaching over to hold the drawing. “Wow, Leila, that’s amazing! You’ve got an eye for colors.”

Leila’s grin widened, but her moment of pride was short-lived. Her face shifted as she noticed Kenan’s legs stretched out comfortably in her path.

She furrowed her brow and placed her hands on his knee, trying to push it out of her way.

“Baba, move,” she huffed, growing a little impatient. “You’re in my way!”

Kenan chuckled, feigning a sigh as he adjusted his legs. “Alright, alright. I was just trying to cuddle mama.” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer.

Leila’s eyes narrowed, and she stepped between the two of you, folding her arms. “That’s my mama,” she declared, her face set in a look of stubborn resolve.

Kenan raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her seriousness. “Oh, really? She’s my wife, you know,” he teased, leaning in as if to prove his point by giving you an exaggerated kiss on the cheek.

Leila, not backing down, placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t care! Mama loves me more.”

Kenan gasped, clutching his chest as if wounded. “Are you serious? Without me, you wouldn’t even be here, Leila. I was here first!”

Leila wasn’t impressed. She tilted her head, giving him a deadpan look. “I don’t care,” she said defiantly. “Mama loves me.”

With an exaggerated pout, Kenan turned away, his back to her, as if deeply heartbroken. “Fine, then. Guess I’ll just sit here… all alone. I’m sad now,” he mumbled, crossing his arms dramatically.

You bit back a laugh, giving Leila a pointed look, trying not to break character.

“Leila, look,” you said, pretending to be concerned. “I think you made Baba sad…”

Leila’s resolve started to waver as she watched her father’s back, his shoulders drooping in mock sadness. Her eyes softened, and she shuffled closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Baba, don’t be sad,” she murmured, wrapping her little arms around him in a tender hug.

Kenan couldn’t keep up the act any longer, and he turned, scooping her up in his arms.

“Ah, that’s better! You know I can’t stay sad when I have meine Prinzessin here to cheer me up.” (My princess)

Leila giggled as Kenan began peppering her face with kisses, each one making her laugh harder, her little arms clutching onto him as he tickled her sides. Her laughter filled the room, a sound so pure and joyful it warmed your heart.

After a while, Leila’s giggles subsided, and she just rests against his chest, catching her breath. Kenan wrapped an arm around you as well, pulling you close until the three of you were cuddled together on the couch, a tangle of arms and legs and love.

Leila rested her head on his chest, one hand still clutching her crayon, her eyelids growing heavy.

Kenan leaned over, brushing a soft kiss to your forehead and then to Leila’s hair. “I love you, both of you,” he whispered, his voice filled with warmth.

You nestled into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. “We love you too, Kenan. You’re our everything.”

[pekoehoneyncream]

Ghoaptober # 31

Prompt: Knife

Words: 1500~

TW: Allusions to Torture (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

This is the last one folks! All good things must come to an end, I suppose. This has been really fun to do! It's been great to stretch my writing skills, I feel like I improved over the course of the month, at least I hope I did, I definitely had to do less grammar and spelling corrections as we progressed, so there's that.

I wanted to thank everyone who's left such kind comments for me, you're feedback really does mean the world to me, Thank You!

If you want me to write more please do drop me an ask, I'd love to hear from you!

And with all of that said, onto the fic

Enjoy!

A shriek echoed out from the microscopic kitchenette crammed into the back of the disused officer’s rec room that the one-four-one had co-opted, Ghost and Price launched off the sagging sofa towards the noise. They charged into the kitchenette, Ghost wielding a knife and Price his hand-gun, ready to end any threat to their Sergeants.

There was no threat, just Soap trying to hide his awkward blush in his mug of coffee while Gaz stared at him with something close to abject horror. 

“Tav, mate, what the fuck is wrong with your tongue.” Gaz demanded, willfully ignoring that he’d just screamed like an arachnophobe confronting Shelob and the fact that his superiors hadn't hesitated in running to his hypothetical rescue. 

Price huffed and reholstered his gun, Ghost putting away his knife much more slowly. “Just what exactly is going on?” He demanded with an edge to his voice that suggested he was already regretting that he’d asked, “Why are you screaming over Soap’s tongue?”

“Well, Cap,” Soap started with a lewd tilt of his eyebrows and a goading grin,

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Gaz cut over him with a biting tone, “but, I didn’t expect to be confronted by the fact that Soap is an actual fuckin’ demon on a casual Thursday afternoon, Price.”

“Garrick, we talked about this,” Price scolded,

“Yeah,” Ghost agreed, “Johnny can’t be a demon, his rosary'd burn him.”

“Wha!” Soap sputtered in sheer disbelief, “Youse thought Ah’m a demon?!”

“No one’s that lucky, Tav.” Gaz said with flat seriousness, “There’s gotta be some kinda something going on.” 

“Would a deal with a demon make you demonic?” Ghost mused in an exaggeratedly ponderous tone, casting his gaze up to the ceiling tiles so that the flabbergasted expression Soap’s face was stretching into couldn't make him laugh.

Gaz perked up, snapping and pointing at Ghost in a eureka-esque motion, “Yes! That’s totally it!” He exclaimed, practically bouncing on his toes with his triumph. 

“Riley-”

“I cannae make a deal wit’ a demon!” Soap cut over Price, slamming his mug down to free up his hands for incensed gesturing, “Mah Grannie would disown me!” 

“Then how do you explain-” Gaz flailed a hand in the direction of Soap’s mouth, lacking the words to describe just what in fuck was going on in there, “-that!”

A look of cartoonish offence slid onto Soap’s face. Ghost watched him brace his hands on his hips and draw himself up to his full height, hamming it up. Trying to make it into an easily deflected joke. Concern kicked at the back of Ghost’s sternum, if Johnny was deflecting it meant the real answer was nothing good. 

Ghost had learned early on that Johnny was one of the most open, shameless, oversharing freaks that walked this earth. Ghost had watched him laugh his way through retelling stories and anecdotes that would have sent consummate exhibitionists blushing through the floor on multiple occasions. Ghost had also been quick to cotton on to the fact that it was for the best to follow up on the things that Johnny tried to deflect, as they were generally things that would have a therapist crying and Johnny really was better off getting them off his chest. Ghost usually tried to circle back around to these things when they were alone and Johnny was feeling safe, but with Gaz latched onto this like a starved dog with a butcher bone that wasn’t an option. 

Sure, Ghost could probably distract Gaz and help him wiggle out of this, but debriding old wounds is always a good team bonding experience. 

Gaz and Soap had stagnated into their usual pattern of bandying insults back and forth. Having a grand time of pretending to be sputtering in high dudgeon whenever the other would quip back with something particularly clever. Ghost cut his eyes to Price, and jerked his chin at Johnny upon catching the Captain’s eye. 

Yes, Ghost wanted Johnny to talk about it, but he didn’t want his boyfriend upset with him either. 

“Right,” Price cut in after giving Ghost a roundly rancorous look, “Soap why is Garrick accusing you of having a demonic tongue. Without!” He hastily amended when Soap turned overblown fuck-me eyes on him, “any chirpsing if you would.”

“Aye, right. Uh-” Soap hesitated, staring down at the table and rubbing at his nape as he tried to gather the right words to explain this, “Reckon he mean’ this.” He gave up and just stuck his tongue out. 

Soap could admit that he got a bit of a kick out of watching their uncomprehending looks warp into horrified incredulity when his tongue split down the middle. He wiggled the two sides up and down in opposite directions of each other and briefly twined them into a coil to drive the image home, then retracted it back behind the safety of his teeth with as much casual finesse as he could muster. 

There was a beat of silence, then a cavalcade of questions. Soap’s personal favourite was Ghost’s ‘how didn’t I notice that?’ said in the tone of a man on the edge of a revelatory breakdown. A close second was Price’s muttered ‘that can’t be within regs.”, but topping the charts for sheer volume was Gaz.

“What!” He shrieked, “What the fuck! When’d you get that!?” his voice dripped with a queer mix of awe, horror, and morbid fascination. 

Soap hummed uncertainly, casting his mind back, swallowing against the phantom taste of blood creeping up his throat to pool at the back of his mouth, “Mus’ a been aroun' twenty-sixteen? Some’hing like tha’,”

“Twenty-sixteen.” Price muttered, mentally rifling through Soap’s file, there was something about that year that had the klaxons spinning up in Price’s subconscious, “Not October twenty-sixteen?” 

“Aye,” Soap nodded, keeping his eyes on the ground, “Tha’d be the one.”

“Corporal MacTavish was detained by enemy forces eighth October twenty-sixteen and was successfully recovered twelfth October twenty-sixteen. In enemy custody, Corporal MacTavish was subjected to physical maltreatment, most notably manifesting in substantial damage within the oral cavity. Injury permanent but non-disfiguring. Corporal MacTavish states that no intelligence was provided to the adversary while in custody.” Price quotes -impressively word for word- from the truncated after action report that had been the script for far too many of his nightmares, “That October twenty-sixteen?” 

“Got ‘er in one, Cap.” Soap confirms, idly grinding his tongue between his teeth, “Yanno, they did offer tae fix it. The medics.” He spoke on just to break the heavy silence that had conquered the room, “But they’d have tae open it up again, cause it’d been cauterized, so Ah said not tae bother.”

They’d said as it was a 'non-invasive procedure' only local numbing would be provided and Soap would not be letting anyone else come at his tongue with a knife unless he was unconscious, dead, or dying. 

“Tav," Gaz pressed out slowly, hesitantly, “That’s fucked, mate.”

“Aye,” Soap nodded, staring down at the kitchenette’s cheap linoleum. Blinking to force the floor back into dingy tiles when his brain tried to twist it into stained concrete. He huffed a small flat laugh, more to force the scent of iron and dank stone from his nose than anything else, “Aye, twasn’t mah idea ae fun neither.”

“Johnny,” Ghost drew his name out into a devastated whine and lunged forward to coil around Soap in a protective embrace. Heart splitting at the shakiness he could feel in Johnny’s shallow breaths as he clutched his boyfriend to his chest. 

“Ah’m alrigh’,” Johnny assured, but the tear-fighting sniff he tried to conceal in Ghost’s pecs said something different. 

“You’re alright,” Price agreed, lay a grounding hand on Soap’s shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Gaz poked at Soap’s sensitive sides to force a wet giggle out of him, “Course you’re alright, Tav. You’ve got us and if those fucks aren’t already dead I’m sure Ghost is drafting up like ten different plans for how to track ‘em down and kill ‘em slow.”

Ghost was glad that Gaz’s joking was making Johnny feel better, and gave an intrigued pensive hum into the fluff of his warhawk to play along. 

It was actually fifteen different plans. 

“Okay. Okay.” Soap barked, shaking them off once he was absolutely positive that he wasn’t about to start bawling like a bairn as soon as they let go, “Mah goddamn coffee’s gonnae be fuckin’ cold now ye muckers.” 

“Do you want me to make you a new cup, so you don't have to microwave it?” Ghost offered, love surging in him for the wide blue eyes that swung his way. 

“Would ye, mo chridhe?” Johnny begged prettily. 

Ghost hooked a thumb under his balaclava, lifting it over his mouth just long enough to press an adoring kiss unto Johnny’s lips, then turning away to make him the promised fresh cuppa, fluidly stealing his mug to dump and refill it.

Both men were content to ignore the way Gaz faked a retch over their sappy mush, as he practically stepped on Price’s heels following after the Captain on his tactical retreat back to the sofa.

Thank You For Reading!

Some nice hurt/comfort to round off the month. It didn't make it into the fic but the reason that his captors split Soap's tongue is because he wouldn't stop talking back, just a fun fact for y'all.

Did anyone want me to make a masterlist for all of these? with ratings and short descriptions or something? there's already links to the full series on my masterlist, but that just has the prompts, so I was wondering if a masterlist would be helpful. Let me know!

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[bonedo-enthusiast]

RIWOO MOMMY KINKKK

ask and you shall receive 🤭 the mommy kink plot is more subtle but i swear it's there!! written in bullets + lowercase is intended <3

warnings: mommy kink (obv), pervy bf!riwoo, sub!riwoo, jerking off, mdni!!

wc: 466

we all know how shy riwoo is, especially with people he doesn’t know too well.

so when you two first start dating, he’s too nervous to approach the topic of sex.

the truth is that he’s already been thinking about what you’d look like on top of him riding his dick. 🤭

but of course you don’t know that!

seeing you in his apartment just does something to the poor guy.

so could you really blame him that sometimes he lies awake at night staring at your body when your oversized shirt rides up a bit too much?

he imagines you grabbing his hair and pushing his face down between your legs, the smell and taste of you taking over his senses.

he always pops a boner imagining you using him like that, like a toy.

so of course he runs to the bathroom, locking the door behind him and opening the drawer he prays you will never open.

he lives up his dick before jerking off, pretending that it was your hand instead of his.

he can’t help the whimpers and moans that tumble out of his lips, swollen from biting them in an attempt to keep himself quiet. 

“mommy…”

he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling his orgasm already drawing close.

but he slows down with a whine until he comes to a complete stop, imagining that you would play with him before allowing him to have his release. 

“p-please… ‘m good, so good!”

he shivers against the ghost of a touch, bucking his hips into the air. 

god, he wanted you so bad. 

riwoo could practically taste your lips, feel your fingertips running down his thighs. 

he reaches up and squeezes one of his nipples, emitting a nearly pornographic moan.

he was so sensitive.

“f-fuck!” 

he throws his head back, thinking about how you would mark pretty little hickeys into his neck. 

the thought alone causes him to resume touching himself, his moans and whimpers rising in pitch as he jerks himself off faster.

“oh god–fuck, mommy! i’m gonna, gonna–!”

his eyes roll into the back of his head as his orgasm hits him, ropes of cum painting his stomach. 

he pants heavily, letting out a low whine at the mess he made on himself.

just as he’s about to start cleaning himself up, the door to his bathroom flies open and he stops like a deer in headlights.

he stares into your eyes, cheeks flushed pink.

fuck. he fucking forgot to lock the door. 

…but you look anything but disgusted. 

your lips curl up into a smile.

“you could’ve just asked me for help instead of moaning for me so pathetically.”

riwoo, stunned, blinks at you with wide eyes.

then you take a few steps forward and close the bathroom door, locking it.

[shadamyheadcanons]

Shadamy in high school headcannon

For Shadamytober 2024 - Day 3: Highschool Outcast

One poor anon sent in this ask an eternity ago. I started writing a full story for it, but I lost steam because I just can’t connect with high school romance stories the way I could when I was younger. I’ve been looking for an excuse to share the parts I did get done, though, and I just realized it suits the High School Outcast prompt for Shadamytober, so I can post it now!

Ignore that I’m late for that, too

Fair warning: I wrote this years ago, and I won’t be continuing it. It doesn’t end on a cliffhanger, but don’t go into this expecting any more!

@shadamytober

Amy sat in her math classroom at the start of the year, shaking like a leaf. She stuck out like a sore pink thumb in a class full of “the troublemakers,” as she’d always called them.

“Hey, Pinky, haven’t seen you around before.”

“What’re you doing Friday night? I’m free if you don’t have cheerleading practice.”

“I suck at math, but I’ll still give you private lessons if you want.”

In the process of averting her eyes from the student in front her, Amy spotted him in the far corner of the room: Shadow the hedgehog. A cold pit of unease settled in her stomach.

Of course he’s in this class. As if this room weren’t terrifying enough.

Most people agreed that Shadow was the scariest guy in school. His identity was shrouded in rumors. Some claimed he was a thief. Others said they’d seen him beat people up. Whatever the truth was, though, Shadow was surely bad news. He sat in the far corner of the room surrounded by a buffer of empty desks...and his red eyes were locked on her. She snapped her gaze away and held herself tightly.

It was actually a relief when the teacher started the lesson, shooting a glare of warning at the boys who were harassing Amy. She let out a sigh, hoping that would be the end of it as she stared at the board and attempted to make sense of the numbers and letters the teacher wrote. She tried to sort out the binomials, polynomials, functions, and variables as best she could, but she was hopelessly lost from the get-go. She shook with fear.

Something light hit Amy on the head. She frowned as she opened the balled-up piece of paper that had landed on her desk...only to find that it was a crudely-drawn image of the male anatomy. She yelped quietly, startled and disgusted, and the Mobians around her cackled quietly at her reaction. She swiftly crumpled up the piece of paper with her shaky hands and pushed it off of her desk.

The ruckus was loud enough to draw the teacher’s attention, but apart from threatening the boys with detention, he didn’t do much. Amy peeked up from her notebook and saw Shadow’s red eyes staring at her again. Her lower lip trembled.

She spent the rest of the period trying to write down equations she didn’t understand with a hand that wouldn’t stop shaking from the way her creepy classmates were leering at her. On top of that, she could practically feel the pair of red eyes watching her struggle through it.

Once the bell rang, Amy bolted straight to the bathroom and burst into tears in one of the stalls.

Is the whole year going to be like this?

Amy arrived as early as possible the next day so she could take a seat in the front right corner of the room. I’ll be closer to the door this time, and only three people can sit adjacent to me, so I won’t be surrounded. She nodded, confident in her reasoning.

A wrench was thrown into her plans when Shadow dropped into the seat next to her, having entered the otherwise empty classroom just after she did. She stiffened with anxiety and stared directly ahead with wide eyes.

Why here? WHY HERE?! Literally every other seat is empty! Don’t tell me he’s going to mess with me, too. I can’t handle this!

She whimpered quietly, but Shadow didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at her. He took out a battered notebook and a pen with a chewed cap from a messenger bag that had seen better days, then placed them on the desk and rested his chin in his hand, half dozing off as he waited for class to begin. Amy watched with confusion out of the corner of her eye as she gingerly retrieved her pristine pink notebook and pencil, but he did nothing more.

More students started entering. Amy shrank in her seat and averted her gaze from the ones who had bothered her on the first day. Surprisingly, though, no one said a word to her. Some of them opened their mouths, only to snap them back shut and turn pale before scurrying off and sitting as far away as they could. Amy frowned, then looked over at Shadow. One of the boys from yesterday came up, only to turn tail when Shadow glared at him. She tilted her head, confused.

Is he...trying to isolate me...? She frowned. That can’t be it. He’s not even talking to me. Why bother?

By the time the teacher arrived, Amy and Shadow were sitting in the front corner while the rest of the students were gathered on the other side, leaving a row of empty desks around them. She would have laughed at the absurdity if she weren’t so terrified.

The subject material proved to be as elusive as ever, the equations being just as unsolved as the stoic, unmoving hedgehog beside her. To add to the enigma, Shadow wasn’t even taking notes. He examined the board with half-shut eyes, but there wasn’t a single word on his paper.

Amy rolled her eyes. Why even open the notebook if you’re not going to write anything? Is this guy even here to learn?

Still, it was nice not being harassed by multiple boys who wouldn’t leave her alone. They wouldn’t even look her way now. She decided the silence wasn’t so bad; even if she still didn’t get the math, at least she could focus on trying.

The teacher rattled off some problem about Train A going north and Train B going south at such-and-such speeds, then gave them a few minutes to work on it. Amy wrote down the information she hoped was important and started plugging in numbers to guess-and-check her way through it, knowing that even if she didn’t have the right technique, she’d get there eventually.

I guess the situation today is technically better. Just so long as he doesn’t do anything weird.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Amy jumped at the voice. She turned with trepidation to see Shadow was staring at her, eyes just as harsh as ever. She’d never actually heard him speak before. His voice was low and smooth, oddly relaxing despite his blunt manner and message.

“Well...I was just gonna...” she squeaked, trailing off at the end.

Shadow looked at her for a moment longer, then turned back to his own desk. She let out a sigh of relief, only to freeze up when he ripped a page out of his notebook and shuffled his desk right up next to hers. Her heart pounded in terror at the close proximity. He spoke up again, apparently oblivious.

“You can make equations out of both of these. The ‘y’ value for both is where they are at a given time, the constant term is where they started, and the coefficient of x is their speed. Since we know they’re in the same place for the collision, the ‘y’ for both should match, so you can set them equal to each other and solve it.”

Amy’s mouth dropped open, and she looked back and forth between Shadow and her paper, torn between confusion, understanding, gratitude, and intimidation.

Shadow kept staring. “Solve it.”

Amy hunched down in front of her paper and picked up her pencil. “Okay,” she replied in a small voice.

It took Amy a minute or two, but she finally got it. She turned her elated grin to Shadow. He didn’t smile back, but he nodded approvingly and shuffled his desk back to its original spot.

After another ten minutes of perplexing explanations, the teacher gave them a few more problems to work on by themselves. By the time Shadow had raced through them, Amy was still stuck on the first one. He looked up from his desk, checked her notes, and sighed, almost sounding exasperated, but he shifted his desk back over and patiently explained the processes once more.

With his guidance, she completed the rest of the problems and sighed in relief. He shuffled his desk away to give her space again. She finished just in time for the teacher to assign their homework.

Amy peeked over at Shadow, trying to figure out what to say. Eventually, she settled on a simple “thank you.”

Shadow looked up one last time. Then, he snatched up the paper he’d used to show her the procedures and quickly scrawled something on it. He handed it back to her, and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw his name with a number written under it.

“Text me if you have trouble with the homework. Or don’t. I don’t care.”

Amy’s mouth dropped open, and she gawked after him as he packed up his bag and left.

What the hell?!

Amy’s eyes scrunched up as she stared at her homework that night. She’d finished about half of it with little trouble, but she stalled out when the equations grew more complex. She pressed her lips together before turning her gaze to the stray piece of paper she’d folded and kept in her notebook. She packed up her courage and picked up her phone, entering the unfamiliar number with shaking hands. She typed out a careful message and hesitated for a few seconds, then pressed Send.

Amy shifted from one foot to the other just outside the school library. She checked the time and held her books a little tighter in front of her.

A minute later, Shadow rounded the corner and walked directly toward her, looking just as intimidating as usual. She let out a sigh of relief. Thank God Shadow’s here... She scrunched up her nose. Now that’s something I never thought I’d say.

“Thanks for helping, Shadow. It’s super lucky that we have the same study period!”

Shadow just grunted in assent and walked right past her into the library to look for a seat. She frowned. He’s so helpful, but he’s like...this. Nice...but weird.

He made a beeline for a table all the way in the back next to a window. She took out her pink notebook and pencil once more. Just to make small talk, she asked, “Any reason you went for this table? Just curious.”

“The view from the window,” he explained. “The foliage is nice in the fall. In the wintertime, a layer of snow blankets the pine trees, and the pond freezes over. There’s a brief time in the spring when cherry blossoms bloom on that tree over there.” He said all of it calmly, his neutral expression still casually fixed on the pen he was retrieving from his bag.

Amy’s heart thumped. She gulped and clutched at her blouse over her heart. What the hell was that?!

Shadow glanced up at her pose and her wide eyes, then frowned. “What?”

She stayed tense for a moment, then shook it off. “Nothing! So, uh...I got this far...”

Shadow shifted closer to examine her answers. He nodded in approval and started walking her through the rest of the problems with quiet words and careful strokes of his pen. Her frazzled nerves calmed down at his soft voice, his easy explanations, and the muted sounds of the library.

When she had to do the problems herself, though, it was less relaxing. She could feel his eyes on her while she wrote. Wanting to break the uncomfortable silence, she gathered her courage while she erased one of her attempts, then spoke to her intimidating companion.

“So, um...if you’re this good at math, why aren’t you in the advanced sequence?”

Shadow stared down at her shy expression for a moment longer. He suddenly let out an amused “hmph,” though he still didn’t smile. “You know Mr. Robotnik?”

Amy groaned and let her head roll back to look at the ceiling. “Oh, God, do I!” His gaze turned inquisitive, and she smiled sheepishly. “Ah, yeah...why?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “His class was boring, and he was really annoying, so...I amused myself.” Amy tilted her head, curious. He crossed his arms. “He insists on being called “Dr. Robotnik” and gets pissed off if you call him “Mr. Robotnik,” but I was bored and didn’t like him, soooo...I did that. A lot. On purpose.”

Amy’s eyes went wide at his deadpan expression. She tried—and failed—to hide her laughter. She stifled it as best as she could to avoid being scolded by the librarians. Shadow just stared, seemingly thrown off. Once her giggles died down, Amy quietly asked, “Let me guess: he put you in the lower sequence just because he didn’t like you?”

Shadow put his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand, interested. “How’d you know?”

“Pfft.” Amy shook her head. “I wasn’t always this bad at math. I was pretty good with numbers, but once they started adding letters, they kinda lost me. I probably would have been okay if I hadn’t been stuck with him.” Shadow’s expression changed. It almost looked...sympathetic? Amy decided she was imagining things and continued on. “He’s brilliant, but he’s a horrible teacher. I just kept falling behind, and he was too much of a jerk to help me. Thanks to him, my grades took a nose-dive. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to catch up.”

“You will.”

Amy paused. “What?”

Shadow nodded to the paper and pointed to all the problems she’d gotten right. “You’ve already gotten better. With a little help, you’ll catch up again in no time. You’re a smart girl.”

Amy was stopped in her tracks once again. That’s the first compliment he’s given me. It’s the first nice thing I’ve heard him say about anyone. Knowing it came from someone like Shadow only made it hit harder. A grin spread across her face.

Shadow remained stone-faced as always. “So what were you saying about him not liking people?”

Amy laughed shyly. “Well, ah...you know how you messed with him because you didn’t like him? Uh...I didn’t like him, either, so...” She scratched the back of her head. “I’m the one who got everyone to start calling him ‘Eggman.’ It was just too much fun to see him get bent out of shape! Even if I’d had the grades, he never would have sent me to the advanced classes.”

Shadow’s neutral expression finally broke, leaving surprise in its wake. “That was you?!” He looked her up and down, from the pink variation of the school uniform she’d chosen, to the matching flower-adorned headband, to her cheery, innocent face. “Really?”

Breaking through his façade sent a thrill through Amy’s chest. Mischief crept into her tone. “What, a girl like me can’t have a rebellious streak?”

“Huh.” Shadow scratched his chin, intrigued. “I guess people can surprise you.”

Amy grinned back.

No kidding.

With Shadow’s help, Amy finished her homework just before the bell rang. The two of them walked to class together, drawing more than a few stares. She was shy about it at first, but something about the way Shadow never seemed bothered by how people looked at him rubbed off on her, instilling her with a unique form of confidence she’d never had before. It wasn’t just his flat, unfazed expression, either. It was the way he walked, head held high, never hunched down under the stares he drew. He didn’t even bother to wear his uniform correctly; his jacket was partly unbuttoned, and his red tie hung loosely around his neck.

At last, one set of eyes stopped him in his tracks. The vice principal loudly scolded him for his disheveled appearance. He reluctantly tightened his tie and buttoned his jacket properly, sighing and rolling his eyes as he did so. The vice principal snapped at him about his uniform and bad attitude once more before walking away, her high heels clacking harshly against the tiled floor of the hallway. Amy peeked at his dapper ensemble and examined it in surprise.

He’s...actually kind of handsome like this...

Amy shook her head furiously to try and rid herself of the strange thought. Then, once the high heels were no longer audible, Shadow let out a single chuckle...and smirked just a little bit.

While Amy was still processing the first kind-of smile she’d ever seen on Shadow, he unbuttoned his jacket all the way. He slipped a finger into his tie and pulled out the knot entirely to let it hang completely free around his neck. He even unbuttoned the top two buttons on his dress shirt, showing a white patch of fur underneath it. He put his hands in his pockets and strutted defiantly to class, oblivious to Amy’s inner turmoil. She snapped her head forward and tried to ignore the flush she knew had spread across her cheeks.

Why does he look even more attractive when he’s sloppy?!

A week or two passed, and Amy fell into a routine: math class, homework, getting help from Shadow during study period, then math class once more. At one point, she admitted that she felt bad monopolizing his study hour and offered to pay him or leave him alone, but he just looked confused, so she didn’t mention it again.

One day, Amy was checking her schedule at the end of math class, sensing she’d forgotten something important. Shadow packed up his bag and spoke.

“Library as usual tomorrow?”

Amy opened her mouth to answer, but then she cringed. “Shit...I have a dentist appointment tomorrow!”

“Hmph.” Shadow shrugged. “No school. Nice.”

She shook her head. “No, see, I’m only missing half the day. I’ll be here just in time for math class, but I’ll miss study hour!”

“Ah.” Shadow nodded in understanding. “That’s a waste. You get time off, but it’s a study period instead of an actual—”

He was cut off when Amy took his shoulders and started shaking him. “Shadow, you don’t get it!” Panic crept into her tone as she shook him. “If I’m not here for our study period, I won’t get any help, and I won’t be able to do well on my homework, and I’ll fall behind again, and I’ll flunk out and have to run away and join the circus—”

“Amy. Stop.” At his firm command, she froze. His expression was half-amused and half-exasperated as he gingerly removed her hands from his shoulders. “None of that is going to happen, I promise...especially not the circus part...but if it’ll make you feel better, we can work on it somewhere else, okay?”

At the comforting look in his warm red eyes, she relaxed. “Okay.” She thought for a moment, and her eyes lit up. “Can’t we just go to the library after classes are done?”

“The library closes early on Mondays and Tuesdays. It stays open later Wednesday through Friday, and it’s open from ten am to ten pm on weekends. It’s Monday, though, so we won’t have enough time.”

Shadow stared at her and waited, having rattled off his response rapid-fire. Amy’s baffled look made way for a small smile. “You’ve really got those hours down, huh? You must love reading!”

He looked away and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, something like that.”

Amy thought for a moment more, then shrugged. “We could always just study at my house, if you don’t mind.”

At that, Shadow jammed his hands into the pockets of his school uniform and looked sideways at her. “I’m comfortable with that, but...are you?” he asked tentatively.

Amy looked at him funny. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I—” She cut herself off when she remembered she was talking to Mr. Scariest-Guy-in-School, and that he probably knew that just as well as she did. She smiled and waved it off. “Yeah! For sure!” When he hesitated, she added, “My mom will be there. She gets home early on Mondays.”

Shadow visibly relaxed. He looked off into space, and then something seemed to occur to him. “Oh, but I can’t go right away. I have something to do at the end of the day first. It’ll take maybe fifteen minutes.”

Amy shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’ll give me time to get set up.” And clear off my cluttered desk...and hide all my embarrassing stuffed animals...and make sure I don’t have any weird tabs open on my computer... “I’ll text you my address, okay?”

He paused and shifted his weight to his other foot. “So...how far is it?”

“It’s close.” She typed in the address and sent it. “I normally just walk there.”

She almost missed the way his shoulders relaxed. “Walking distance. Cool.”

Amy nodded happily and put away her phone. “Thanks, Shadow. You really didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Amy snorted. “I still appreciate it, though.” On a whim, she stepped forward and pulled him into a hug, just as she did with her other friends.

Technically speaking, it was the strangest hug she’d ever given. He didn’t push her away, but he didn’t hug back, either. He just stood a little stiffly and waited for her to finish. When she pulled away, his face was completely blank, as if he’d never encountered a hug before and didn’t know how to react.

Amy had to hold back a loud snort of amusement at his lack of response. “I’ll see you in a bit, Shadow!”

She dashed out of the classroom, ignoring the confused students around her and still sensing the inquisitive red eyes at her back. She giggled to herself.

We’ll work on it.

Amy shuffled the last of the clutter under her bed and grinned in satisfaction. Good enough! She peeked out the window. No Shadow yet. She glanced back at her desk and the second chair she’d dragged in, and concern briefly crossed her mind. Maybe it’s a bad idea to choose the desk in my room to share with the kind-of-scary guy I barely know. She frowned. Is this why my dad says I have no sense of self-preservation?

The doorbell rang out, jolting Amy out of her thoughts. She bounded down the stairs to answer it, and her eyes bugged out when she saw Shadow there.

I couldn’t see him anywhere two seconds ago. How fast is he?!

She set her thoughts aside and opened the door for him with a smile. “Hey, Shadow!”

He wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his face was turned upward. He tilted it back down to fix her with a deadpan look. “Your house is huge.”

“Huh?” She was thrown off, but he just walked right inside. “I mean...kind of? It’s not really—Shadow, wait!”

He flinched and stopped. “What?”

Amy stepped past him and pointed to her own socked feet and the shoes lined up neatly at the door. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. He looked unimpressed, but he rolled his eyes lazily and slipped out of his own shoes. She nodded, satisfied.

Shadow followed her up the stairs. The humbled expression he carried on his face as he looked around didn’t escape her notice, especially when he stepped into her room and blatantly examined its pink and red decor. She held her hands behind her back and looked at him sideways. “Is everything okay?”

His gaze snapped back to her. “It’s really girly.” She hesitantly opened her mouth to speak, but then he slipped his messenger bag off his shoulder. “It suits you.”

He didn’t look at her again as he sat down. She stood awkwardly, mouth open. “Uh...thanks?” He nodded a little, either not comprehending the weirdness of it or not caring. She shook it off and took out her math homework. Was that a compliment? I swear, I’m never gonna figure this guy out.

The two went over the premise of the homework, and Shadow helped iron out the bits she hadn’t gotten in class. While she was working on the second problem, she broke the silence. “So what did you have after school? Anything exciting?”

“Hmph. Not really. It’s the same thing I do every day.”

“And what’s that? Oh, but you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to—”

Shadow shrugged. “I don’t mind. Sometime last year, a group of guys were bullying this rabbit middle schooler outside the west wing of the school. Teasing her, pulling her ears, shit like that.” She looked up in surprise to see he was fixing the paper in front of him with a searing glare. He shut his eyes and crossed his arms. “So I beat the shit out of them. Turns out she was waiting for her mom, so now I wait with the kid every day after school to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He opened his eyes again and looked up at Amy, who’d stopped writing. “What?”

Amy snapped her mouth shut, realizing it had fallen open a bit as he told his story. Her heart softened, and she smiled adoringly at him. “That’s so kind of you!”

He fidgeted and looked at her sideways. “Uh...beating people up...?”

His uncharacteristic hesitation and movements reminded Amy that he wasn’t used to being looked at that way. She felt a twinge of pain at the idea, but she pushed it aside. “No, I mean standing up for her! Waiting around every day just to make sure she’s okay. That’s really sweet of you.”

Shadow opened his mouth, clearly unsure of how to deal with the sentiment. He crossed his arms again and shut his eyes. “It’s not a big deal. Anyone else would have done the same.”

Amy wasn’t sure about that, but she didn’t want to argue. Instead, she rested an elbow on the desk and leaned her cheek into her palm to look at him more closely. “Everything people say about you is wrong, huh?” When he just blinked at her, she panicked and backtracked. “I mean—! It’s not like—there are, well...y’know, rumors...and you know how people are...” She cringed and trailed off.

He huffed. “It’s fine, I know what people say about me.” He leaned his arm on the desk and turned his body to face her. “People talk. It happens.”

Amy pouted. “Are you...okay with that?”

He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Being the ‘scary guy’ isn’t always fun, but it’s not all bad. No one messes with you if they won’t go near you.”

Amy thought of the empty desks that always surrounded Shadow and the wide berth he was always given in the cafeteria. She thought of his atypical social habits and the way even a simple hug could throw him off. Her heart stung.

Oblivious, Shadow kept going. “And if no one messes with me, then I can protect other people, too. My family. Kids who are being bullied. And, uhh...” He scratched his head and looked away.

Amy narrowed her eyes in suspicion, and then a bright smile graced her face. “That’s what you were doing in math class, wasn’t it? On the second day, when you sat next to me.”

At the reminder, Shadow’s expression twisted just a little in...embarrassment? He covered half of his face with his hand. “Yeeeaaaahhhh, uh...I may have overdone it. You looked so upset on the first day, like you were about to cry...so I scared off anyone who I thought might upset you again...but by the end of it, I’d scared off everyone, and you were more afraid of me than you were of them.”

Amy matched his cringing face with her own. “Was it that obvious?”

He uncovered his face. “By the time we got around to the math part, you looked like you were about to piss your pants.”

Amy’s expression turned bitter at the image, and then she let out a brief chuckle. “Gotta admit, I was pretty petrified...but I still felt comfortable enough to text you for help, didn’t I? That has to be worth something.”

He scratched his chin and looked up at the ceiling. “So you’re more scared of math than you are of me...” He nodded. “I’ll take it. It’s better than I usually do with people.”

Amy wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at that. She chose to laugh, and she considered it a victory when she saw him let out the slightest chuckle in response.

By the time they’d hit the five o’clock hour, Amy had been done with her homework for a while, but she hadn’t asked Shadow to leave, and he hadn’t shown interest in going anywhere anytime soon, either. After plenty of surprisingly enjoyable conversation, though, the alarm on Shadow’s phone went off. He squinted at the cracked screen, then showed a face that looked almost disappointed, though it could have been Amy’s imagination.

“I have to get home and make dinner for my family. You all set?”

Amy’s heart sank more than she’d expected it to. “Yeah.” She reluctantly descended the stairs with Shadow in tow.

Once she reached the door, though, her eyes lit up. “Hey, um...” She steeled herself. “Do you want to, maybe...hang out again? Not just for math.” When he just stared at her, she panicked. “Oh, I don’t mean—not in, like...a weird way, I just like talking to you!”

She didn’t know how to say ‘it’s not a date’ without actually saying that, but Shadow seemed to pick up on her meaning anyway. He stared off into space for a moment, then nodded a little, as if mulling it over. He looked back down at her and shrugged. “It’s been a while...but yeah. Sure.”

Amy grinned, then frowned as a sad thought hit her. “Do you not have any other friends to hang out with?”

He frowned a little. “Yeah, but...” He scratched the back of his head idly. “I used to hang out with my friend Rouge a lot, but then she graduated, and now she’s in a training program to become a government spy.”

Amy made an intrigued noise. “Government spy? That sounds impressive!”

“Hmph. Don’t tell her that, she’ll get a swelled head.” He paused and looked away. “We’re still good friends, but she lives three hours away now, so...I don’t have...” He cut himself off and pressed his lips together. “I spend a lot of time by myself these days.”

Sympathy touched Amy’s heart, but she shook it off in favor of smiling up at him. “Well, I’d be happy to be your friend! What do you say, Shadow?” She held out her hand for a handshake.

He looked from her chipper face to her hand. After a moment, a small smirk showed itself on his face. He ignored the hand and pulled her into a quick side-hug. “Sounds good to me.”

After that, he abruptly dashed off with such speed that the wind he whipped up nearly knocked her over. Her heart pounded at his dramatic exit. Once she’d calmed down, Amy smiled.

It was only a quick side-hug...but it’s a start.

[That’s all she wrote...literally. From here, Amy convinces Shadow to join the track team along with her, Sonic, Blaze, and Espio so he can have more friends, and they become a couple along the way. Some people are disapproving at first, but they come around in time. Shadow’s family is also poor, and he’s very dedicated to his chronically ill sister, who winds up being very fond of Amy. I mentioned a few more details in this post.

Cliché? Maybe, but it’s a nice reminder of how far I’ve come as a writer, I think.

Poor anon probably forgot they even sent this ask. I hope they’re still on tumblr to get the notification, lmfao.]

[badger-tales]

Eddie Watch//E.M x Reader

Chapter 1/18

A/n: okay so way back in the day (2022) when stranger things season 4 was still being released I wrote this fanfic and its been on wattpad for ages but I re-wrote it recently and wanted to post it here!!! Also I'm posting from my phone bc my laptop still wont work!!!

Summary: Despite wanting to stay and fight, Y/n is assigned to Eddie Watch to make sure he 'doesn't Do anything stupid.' Reluctantly she agrees. Everything's fine. Everything's good. It's all just perfect.

Word count: 3.6k

"Let me get this straight," she said, leaning forward over the worn cafeteria table. The ambient noise of chattering students and clattering trays seemed to fade as she fixed her gaze intently on her younger brother. Her eyes narrowed, giving him the impression of an intense interrogation rather than a casual lunchtime conversation. "You want me to be a stand-in for your Hellfire Club because Lucas bailed on you guys, and if you don't find a replacement, Eddie is going to kick your ass?"

Dustin let out an exasperated sigh, his shoulders slumping dramatically as he threw his arms up in frustration. "Yes, Y/N, those are the exact words that just left my mouth," he replied, his tone dripping with teenage annoyance. He ran a hand through his curly hair, making it stand on end even more than usual. "So, are you going to help us or not?"

A sly smile played on her lips as she leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms thoughtfully. She pretended to mull over his request, even though she had already decided. The prospect of diving back into a Dungeons & Dragons campaign for the first time since she was fifteen—since those long nights in Mike Wheeler's basement—was too tempting to pass up. But there was no harm in making Dustin sweat a little.

"What's in it for me?" she asked, arching an eyebrow mischievously. She watched as a look of mild panic crossed his face, clearly unprepared for negotiations.

She had to suppress a chuckle at the glare he shot her way, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Uh... cool shirt?" he offered hesitantly, the confidence in his voice wavering. It was more of a question than a promise.

She held his gaze for a moment longer, letting the silence hang between them. Then, a grin broke across her face. "Yeah, sure. My schedule's free. What time does it start?"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Dustin exclaimed, relief washing over his features. He practically bounced in his seat. "It starts at four-thirty. Do you still have all your stuff?" he asked eagerly, already standing up as if ready to sprint off.

"Of course I do," she replied, rolling her eyes affectionately at his enthusiasm. "And I'm expecting that shirt before the campaign, by the way," she called after him as he hurried away, giving her a thumbs-up over his shoulder as he weaved through the crowded cafeteria.

---

Back at home, she sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, surrounded by the familiar clutter of posters, books, and trinkets collected over the years. God, it had been too long since she'd even thought about this binder—three years, in fact. The last time she played was November 6th, 1983—the night Will went missing. A soft smile touched her lips as she opened the worn cover, flipping through pages filled with character sheets, campaign notes, and doodles along the margins. She paused at a drawing Will had made of their party during one of their most grueling campaigns, his artistic talent capturing the spirit of their adventures perfectly.

Finding her dice set proved more challenging. She rummaged through drawers and boxes, the minutes ticking by faster than she'd realized. Just as she was about to give up, she remembered the small shoebox tucked under her bed. Pulling it out, she lifted the lid to reveal a treasure trove of memories: a few ribbons from old competitions, faded Polaroids capturing moments frozen in time, and there, nestled among them, her favorite set of dice. She used to have several sets, but over the years she'd given them to Dustin or misplaced them. This particular set—a swirl of deep purple and gold—was her lucky charm.

Glancing at her watch, her eyes widened. 3:45 PM.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. Hastily, she stuffed her binder and dice into her bag, bolting out of her room. She nearly tripped down the stairs, snatching her car keys from the hook by the door.

She sped down the streets of Hawkins, the familiar scenery flashing by as she perhaps ignored a few traffic laws in her rush. Pulling into the Hawkins High parking lot, she spotted Dustin waiting on the steps, arms crossed and an impatient look on his face.

"Took you long enough," he said, thrusting a folded shirt into her hands. The black fabric bore the emblem of the Hellfire Club—a design that was both ominous and intriguingly detailed. "Hurry up and get changed, or we'll be late."

"It's not going to take me thirty minutes to get changed," she retorted, rolling her eyes as she pushed past him and headed into the school.

---

"Now, Y/N, I need you to understand something," Dustin said, halting her just outside the imposing double doors of the club room. The hallway was dimly lit, fluorescent lights flickering overhead with a faint buzz. Lockers lined the walls, adorned with a collage of stickers and graffiti. Dustin shifted nervously, glancing around before focusing his gaze on her. "These guys are major nerds—not like cool nerds like Mike and me, but textbook nerds," he began to ramble, his words tumbling over each other in his haste to explain.

She raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Dustin, get to the point," she interjected, crossing her arms over her chest. The distant sound of a basketball bouncing echoed through the empty corridors, a stark contrast to their hushed conversation.

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his curly hair. "My point is, I doubt these guys have even spoken to a girl they aren't related to. So just cut them some slack if they're weird around you," he confessed, his cheeks tinged with a slight blush.

She chuckled softly, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet hallway. "Got it. I'll try not to terrify your friends," she teased, giving him a playful nudge on the shoulder.

Relieved, Dustin nodded and turned toward the doors. With a dramatic flourish, he pushed them open. "Our savior is here!" he proclaimed loudly, his voice echoing off the high ceilings as he kicked the door wider. The room fell silent almost instantly, the low murmur of conversation and the clatter of dice coming to an abrupt halt. It was as if someone had pressed pause on a remote, freezing the scene.

Rows of mismatched tables were pushed together to form a large gaming area, strewn with character sheets, scattered dice, and an array of snacks. Posters of fantasy landscapes and mythical creatures adorned the walls, their colors muted in the dim lighting. A haze of dust particles danced in the shafts of evening light filtering through the small windows.

Dozens of eyes turned to stare at them, a mix of curiosity, surprise, and suspicion evident on the faces peering over Dungeon Master's screens and stacks of rulebooks. It felt like walking onto a stage mid-performance.

"Hi, Y/N!" Mike called out enthusiastically from his seat near the center of the room, his face breaking into a wide grin. His lanky frame was hunched over a well-worn Player's Handbook, and he waved energetically, causing a few stray papers to flutter to the floor.

She returned his wave with a warm smile, feeling a bit of the tension ease from her shoulders. "Hey, Mike," she replied, her voice steady despite the dozens of eyes still fixed upon her.

"Who's this?" a boy with thick glasses and a skeptical expression demanded from across the room. His tone carried a hint of indignation, as if her presence was a breach of some unspoken rule.

Dustin stepped forward, undeterred. "The one and only Y/N Henderson—aka my big sister, aka the best D&D player to grace this planet," he declared with unabashed pride, puffing out his chest dramatically.

She laughed lightly, shaking her head at his antics. "You're so dramatic, Dustin," she chided, reaching over to tug the brim of his cap down over his eyes. He sputtered in protest, pushing it back up with an indignant huff.

"So you're the elusive Y/N Henderson," a smooth voice drawled from the head of the table. Eddie Munson leaned back in his chair, boots propped up on the table's edge. His dark curls framed his face, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he assessed her. Rings adorned his fingers, which tapped rhythmically against the arm of his chair. "We've heard tales of your wit and bravery. It's an honor," he continued, standing with a flourish to give an exaggerated bow, his leather jacket rustling with the movement.

Her gaze met his, and for a moment, the room seemed to fade away. There was a challenge in his eyes, but also a hint of genuine curiosity. She felt a smirk tug at the corner of her lips. "Well, I couldn't let my little brother face certain doom without me," she replied, her tone light but edged with playful defiance.

Dustin beamed between them, clearly pleased with the exchange. "She's here to help us crush this campaign," he announced to the room, confidence radiating from him.

"Don't worry, Y/N; we'll make sure you don't die in the first hour," a boy with a mop of sandy hair and a smattering of freckles said from across the table, a teasing smirk on his face. He adjusted his wizard's hat—a battered accessory that had seen better days—and leaned forward on his elbows.

She arched an eyebrow, noting the amused glances Mike and Dustin exchanged. "Your level ten half-elf wizard is going to protect my level eighteen Tiefling fighter? Alright," she retorted smoothly, settling into the empty seat beside Mike. A few chuckles rippled through the group, and the initial stiffness in the air began to dissipate.

---

As the hours passed, Y/N found herself fully immersed in the game. The room was filled with animated voices, the rustling of paper, and the occasional clatter of dice on wood. The scent of old books mixed with the sweetness of soda and the salty tang of potato chips. Eddie's storytelling was captivating, his voice weaving vivid images that pulled them deeper into the fantasy realm.

"The hooded cultists chant, 'Hail Lord Vecna. Hail Lord Vecna,'" Eddie intoned, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper that sent a chill down her spine. The overhead lights seemed to dim, or perhaps it was her imagination as she became engrossed in the narrative. His eyes flickered with dark delight as he scanned each player, savoring their rapt attention. "They turn to you and remove their hoods. You recognize most of them from Makbar—their eyes hollow, lips curled into fanatic grins. But there is one you do not recognize."

Y/N leaned forward, her fingers unconsciously gripping the edge of the table. A knot of anticipation twisted in her stomach. She exchanged a quick glance with Mike, whose eyes were wide with apprehension.

"His skin is shriveled, desiccated. And something else..." Eddie leaned in, the room holding its collective breath. "He is not only missing his left arm," he paused, the silence stretching taut like a drawn bowstring. "But his left eye!"

Gasps erupted around the table. "No way!" the boy with the wizard's hat exclaimed, nearly knocking over his character miniatures. "Vecna's supposed to be dead!"

"Kas killed him!" Mike protested, flipping through his notes frantically.

"So it was thought, my friends. So it was thought," Eddie replied smugly, a sly smile playing on his lips. He reached over his Dungeon Master's screen with deliberate slowness, placing a detailed figurine onto the center of the map—a skeletal figure draped in tattered robes, one eye socket glaring empty. "But Vecna lives!"

Chaos ensued. Players scrambled to adjust their strategies, voices overlapping in a cacophony of disbelief and hurried planning. The atmosphere was electric, a mix of dread and exhilaration. Y/N felt her heart pounding, the rush of adrenaline sharpening her focus.

"Do you flee Vecna and his cultists?" Eddie challenged, his tone almost taunting as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Or do you stand your ground and fight?"

Silence fell as everyone weighed their options. The gravity of the situation pressed upon them, the fate of their characters hanging in the balance. Y/N glanced around the table, reading the uncertainty in their faces.

"I say we fight," she declared firmly, her voice cutting through the tension. Her eyes met each of theirs, a spark of determination igniting. "To the death."

"To the death," Dustin and Mike echoed, their expressions steeling with resolve. A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, the earlier hesitation giving way to a united front.

The battle was fierce. Eddie narrated the onslaught with dramatic flair, his words painting a vivid picture of the chaos unfolding. Spells were cast, swords swung, and arrows loosed. At first, victory seemed within reach. They coordinated attacks, covered each other's weaknesses, and for a moment, hope blossomed.

But fate was fickle. One by one, their comrades fell. The clatter of dice rolling low numbers elicited groans and curses. The boy with the wizard's hat threw up his hands in despair as his character succumbed. "No! Not like this!" he lamented.

"Stay strong!" Y/N urged, her knuckles white as she gripped her dice. Sweat beaded on her brow, her mind racing to formulate a plan.

Mike took his turn, the dice slipping from his fingers with a whispered prayer. They tumbled across the table, seeming to move in slow motion before settling ominously. A collective breath was held.

"Critical fail," Eddie announced with feigned sympathy. Mike slumped back, a look of defeat shadowing his features.

"Dammit!" he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Now, only Y/N and Dustin remained standing. The room was thick with tension, the weight of their predicament palpable. The ambient noises of the school had faded away, leaving only the sounds of their ragged breaths and the distant hum of the air conditioning.

"Time out!" someone called desperately. They huddled together, forming a tight circle. Y/N found herself wedged between Mike and Dustin, their shoulders pressing against hers. The sense of camaraderie was strong, but so was the creeping doubt.

"Guys, I hate to say this, but we have to flee," the boy with the glasses whispered urgently, his eyes darting between them. A murmur of reluctant agreement spread among a few others, nodding solemnly.

"Didn't we just agree 'to the death'?" Y/N asked incredulously, her gaze sweeping over their faces. Her heart sank at the sight of their defeated expressions. "We can't back down now."

She felt a surge of frustration mingled with determination. This was more than just a game—it was a stand against the odds, a test of their mettle. She wasn't ready to throw in the towel, and she hoped to rekindle that fighting spirit in them.

"That wasn't literal," he shot back desperately, his eyes wide with a mix of panic and frustration.

"Vecna just decimated us. We can't kill him with two players!"

"You too? He only has fifteen hit points left. Don't be pussies," Dustin spat, spinning around to face his teammates. His cheeks were flushed, and a fiery determination burned in his gaze. The overhead lights cast sharp shadows across the scattered maps and figurines on the table.

"Pussies? Really? 'Cause we're not delusional?" the boy across from him retorted, leaning back in his chair with a skeptical snort. He crossed his arms over his chest, his brows knitting together as he met Dustin's glare.

"Delusional?" Y/N interjected sharply, her eyes narrowing as she stared daggers at the skeptic. "How about not cowards?" Her voice was steady but carried an edge that sliced through the tension-filled air.

"Hey!" Eddie's voice boomed from across the dimly lit room, breaking the group's heated exchange. He rose from his throne-like chair at the head of the table, the multitude of rings on his fingers glinting under the fluorescent lights. "If I may interject, gentlemen—and lady," he added with a nod toward Y/N. "While I respect the passion, you'd be wise to take Gareth the Great's concern to heart. However, there is no shame in running," he said, his gaze locking onto Y/N's with an intensity that made the room feel smaller. "Don't try to be heroes—not today, 'kay?"

Y/N scoffed at his words, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. There was no way she was backing down now. Not when victory was within their grasp. Even if it meant the devil himself had to claw his way out of hell to stop her.

"One sec," Dustin said, holding up a finger before turning back to the huddled group. "What do you think, Y/N?" he asked, his voice softer now, eyes searching hers for confirmation.

She took a brief moment, her mind racing as she weighed their options. The ambient sounds of the room faded—the soft rustling of character sheets, the distant chatter from the hallway—everything narrowed down to this decision.

"We both only have twelve hit points left; it's risky as hell, but we're the only ones left on the battlefield," she said firmly, meeting his gaze head-on. "You already know what I'm gonna say, so it's your call, Dusty." Her words hung in the air, filled with both challenge and trust.

He studied her face, the gears in his mind visibly turning as he compiled a mental list of pros and cons. The flickering light above cast shifting shadows, mirroring the conflict in his eyes. It felt like an eternity before a slow grin spread across his face.

"Alright, Y/N, let's kill this son of a bitch!" he declared, spinning around to face Eddie. A Cheshire grin stretched from ear to ear, his earlier hesitation replaced with fiery resolve.

"The chances of success are twenty-to-one," one of the members interjected nervously, his voice laced with desperation and genuine fear. He fiddled anxiously with a worn pencil, his knuckles white.

"Never tell me the odds," Dustin shot back, his tone dismissive as he silenced the doubter with a steely glance. He extended his hand toward his sister. "Give me the D20."

She nodded, reaching into her velvet dice bag—the one adorned with tiny embroidered dragons—and retrieved the well-worn die. Its edges were smooth from years of use, the numbers etched deep from countless campaigns. She placed it into his open palm, their eyes meeting briefly in unspoken understanding.

The entire room fell into a hushed silence, the kind that makes every small sound—every breath, every heartbeat—seem amplified. All eyes were glued to Dustin as he prepared to roll. The air was thick with anticipation, so much so that it felt almost tangible.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a split second before casting the die. It tumbled across the tabletop in what seemed like slow motion, bouncing off a miniature goblin and skittering past a makeshift terrain of books and notepads. Finally, it came to rest right in front of Eddie.

"Eleven," Eddie announced, his voice devoid of emotion. He tapped the table with each syllable for emphasis. "That's. A. Miss!"

A collective groan erupted from the group. "No!" "Damn it!" "We're doomed!" The exclamations overlapped, filling the room with a cacophony of disappointment. The tension ratcheted up as all eyes shifted to Y/N.

"We're so screwed," Dustin muttered beside her, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He pulled his cap lower over his eyes, as if to shield himself from the reality of the situation.

She glanced at him, a mischievous glint flashing in her eyes. With a swift motion, she reached over and flicked the brim of his hat upward. "I'm offended you have such little faith in me—and from my own kin!" she declared dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. "I'm wounded, Dusty; I may never recover." Her teasing tone elicited a few chuckles from the surrounding players.

Turning back to the table, she picked up the die, feeling its familiar weight in her hand. The room seemed to hold its breath. She could sense the gazes of her fellow players, the skepticism, the hope.

She shook the dice once, the clatter echoing softly.

Twice, the anticipation building like a rising tide.

Three times, and then she released it with a confident flick of her wrist. The die rolled across the board, weaving between scattered character sheets and abandoned snacks, before coming to a halt directly in front of the Dungeon Master.

Everyone leaned in, their faces a mix of dread and excitement. Eddie arched an eyebrow, leaning forward to inspect the result. A slow smile curved his lips.

"Twenty," he announced, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"Crit hit!" Y/N shouted, leaping to her feet as a surge of triumph coursed through her. Cheers erupted around her, the room exploding into jubilant chaos. Dustin let out a whoop, throwing his arms around her in a bear hug that nearly knocked them both over.

She laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained, her heart pounding with exhilaration. Around them, the other players clapped and shouted, the earlier tension dissolving into celebration. She caught snippets of their exclamations—"Unbelievable!" "She's a legend!" "We did it!"

Eddie's voice rose above the din, though his exact words were lost in the whirlwind of noise. He looked both impressed and slightly amused, shaking his head as he began to collect his notes.

"I told you she would be our savior!" Dustin crowed to the group, his face flushed with excitement.

"That was some serious D&D playing, Henderson," Eddie called out, giving a nod of respect.

"Of course it was," Dustin interjected before she could respond, puffing out his chest with pride. "Who do you think taught me, Mike, and Lucas to play?"

She grinned widely at her brother's praise, her eyes shining as she looked around at the beaming faces of her friends. The room buzzed with energy, the victory a shared triumph that seemed to make the walls themselves hum.

[redbirdandbluebird23]

To Bite or not to Bite

Masterlist

Written for the Batman Halloween Bash 2024 (@wait-whos-batman) in collaboration with @graytodd whose art can be found here!

“So, are we talking like a full Dracula situation, or like a Twilight situation? Because they’re completely different scenarios.” Jason says, trying to suppress the urge to laugh hysterically because while there were a lot of things he was prepared for tonight, this was absolutely not one of them. Haley continues winding around his ankles, trying to get his attention, but Jason can’t shift his focus from Dick right now. 

Dick gives him a scathing look from where he’s sat on the floor on the other side of the room, still looking like he’s ready to bolt out of the window if Jason tries getting any closer. 

“You can give me that look all you want, but I think it’s a relevant worry. Like are you going to need to sleep in a coffin or shit like that? What exactly do I need to know here?” Jason asks, shifting very slowly further into the room, not missing the way Dick’s eyes are tracking him with an unnatural precision. 

“I already told you what you need to know.” Dick says, his eyes flickering to the wooden stake on the floor that he’d practically thrown at Jason’s feet when he first walked in. 

“And I already told you; fuck that!” Jason snaps. “The fact you even asked me gives me all the reasons I need to refuse. So, I’ll ask you again, what do I need to know ?”

“They’re dead, the rest of them, I killed them.” Dick says, not looking at Jason and instead focusing on a random spot on the wall. 

“They were already dead, Dickie, I don’t think it really counts.” Jason folds down to sit cross-legged on the floor, still not too close given the look Dick shoots him. It gives Haley the chance she’s been waiting for as she immediately crawls into his lap and tries to lick his chin. He grabs her around the middle and scratches between her ears instead. 

Dick gives him a look that suggests he doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t try to argue. “From what they were saying, most of the myths are true. Blood, no sunlight, silver, stakes, crosses; all of that is true. The garlic and coffin thing is bullshit though. But that’s probably also where the main issue lies.”

“There’s a bigger issue than not being able to go out in daylight anymore?” Jason asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“I have to sleep with ancestral dirt, as in the dirt from where I was born and apparently there are consequences if I don't. Although they were a little vague on what the consequences will be.” 

“I mean, that won’t be too hard to get hold of, even if you can’t go outside during the day.” Jason says, not quite seeing the problem. 

Dick bites his lip and looks away from him again. “Jay, I don’t know where I was born and it’s not like I can just ring my parents and ask.”

“Doesn’t Bruce have your birth certificate?” Jason asks, well aware that Bruce made sure he now had everyone’s birth certificates after what happened to Jason because of his. 

“My birth was registered in France, due to my mom’s dual citizenship, when I was a few months old, but I don’t think I was actually born in France, no matter what the certificate says.” Dick says, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. It draws Jason’s attention to how pale he looks, but it’s not in a sickly kind of way, more that he looks carved from marble compared to his usual tan tones. 

Jason chews his lip and continues scratching Haley’s ears as he thinks about what to say next. “What about someone from the circus? Would they know? You could frame it as looking into your family history or some shit like that and then we can get some dirt.” Christ, that is a sentence he never expected to say. 

“Oh yeah, that could work. I’ll call Pop Haley.” Dick says quietly as he stands up and makes his way into the bedroom. Jason knows he’s still not entirely on board with the whole living as a vampire thing, but he waits until Dick’s out of sight before grabbing the stake off the floor and promptly throwing it out of the window. 

Haley barks at him and nudges at his leg as he grips the window ledge and takes a deep breath. This is… complicated in a way he doesn’t know how to deal with. “ Fuck . What am I gonna do Hales?”

Read on Ao3

[namicakes]

The Alchemy

“Where's the trophy? he just comes running over to me”

Featuring:Timeskip!Kageyama Tobio x F!Reader

Note:( I've seen and watched so many olympic videos on tiktok where the players won and they straight up runs to their partner to hug them and that shii makes me bawl my eyes out cuz it's so cuteeee! specially when the music was The Alchemy by taylor swift)

The energy in the stadium crackles, vibrating through every row, and yet, Tobio's heart thunders louder than the cheers. He stands with his team on the court, wiping sweat from his brow, feeling every inch of exhaustion seep into his bones. This isn’t just a game. It’s the final match of the season, a showdown for the national championship. Everything he’s trained for, sacrificed for, poured his soul into, has come down to this night. His gaze flickers to the stands, searching, until he finds her.

You sat there, eyes wide and glistening, Your hands clasped tight with anticipation. You're wearing his jersey jacket, one he’d tossed over your shoulders on a chilly night months ago, and you're holding it like armor. Tobio’s heartbeat steadies as he watches you. You're always been his anchor, his constant, the one who’s seen him at his worst and still smiles as if he’s already won. The alchemy of your presence fills him with a strength beyond his own.

The referee’s whistle pierces the air, jolting him back into the moment. His coach calls for a timeout, gathering the team around for a final huddle. The score is tied. One last point to win it all.

“Focus, Kageyama,” his teammate whispers, clapping him on the back. Tobio nods, but his gaze drifts to the stands once more. You catched his eyes and mouths the words, “You’ve got this.” Your face is alight with unwavering belief, and he can feel the fire in his own heart catch and blaze hotter than ever.

As he takes his position on the court, he remembers all those late nights, when exhaustion clung to him like a second skin, and You would hold his hands, Your voice soft yet firm, whispering that his dreams mattered. The memory swells within him, fueling his resolve. Tonight, he wants to prove you right—to show you that your faith wasn’t misplaced.

The ball is tossed high, and he readies himself, every muscle tense, every sense alert. reading the play before it unfolds. His feet hit the floor in time with the beat of his heart, his body moving in practiced precision. When he leaps, he knows it’s perfect.

“Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads

Beer sticking to the floor”

His hand meets the ball, sending it soaring over the net with crushing force. The opposing team scrambles, their libero diving, but it’s too late. The ball slams into the floor on their side, sealing the game, sealing the championship.

“Cheers chanted, cause they said”

For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. And then, the crowd erupts. Tobio’s teammates rush toward him, pulling him into a blur of hugs and cheers, pounding his back, shouting his name. But his eyes search the crowd, heart racing, looking for the one person who made all of this possible.

“There was no chance, trying to be

The greatest in the league”

There—through the crowd, pushing her way to the edge of the stands, You watch him, Your hands covering your mouth, tears streaming down your face as you beam. You catches his eye and holds it, and the world around him fades.

“Where's the trophy?

He just comes running over to me”

Without thinking, he breaks away from his teammates, ignoring their shouts of celebration. The court, the noise, the lights—all of it falls away as he sprints across the polished floor, his eyes locked on you. It’s like something magnetic, an unstoppable pull drawing him to you.

As he reaches the edge of the stands, You jumped down, and in one fluid motion, he scoops you up, pulling you into his arms. You cling to him, laughter bubbling up from your lips, mingling with his. You were boyh lost in your own world, a moment suspended in time, untouched by everything around them.

“You did it, Tobio!” you cried, voice filled with pride and joy.

“We did it,” he corrects, his voice hoarse with emotion. He pulls back just enough to look at you, thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “I couldn’t have done this without you. Every night, every practice—when I thought I couldn’t push any harder, you were there. You made this possible.”

Your smile softens, and you cups his face in your hands, pressing your forehead against his. “Tobio, you were always strong enough. I just wanted you to see that.”

He kisses you then, a kiss filled with gratitude, with the words he’s never quite known how to say. And in that kiss, in your touch, he feels it—alchemy. The magic of two hearts turning something raw, something ordinary, into something golden. A transformation that goes beyond words, beyond mere wins and losses.

When you both pull apart, the stadium is still roaring, and his team is still celebrating around them. But this moment, this embrace, feels like it belongs to only them.

You leaned back, beaming, voice filled with laughter and tears. “Go celebrate with your team, champion.” You nudged him, but your hands stay resting on his shoulders, as if reluctant to let go.

“Not without you.” He takes your hand, guiding you onto the court beside him. You tried to protest, but his grip is firm, unwavering, and he gives you a look that tells you everything. He wants you there, beside him , under the lights, sharing in the victory you helped him achieve.

The team gathers around them, laughing and cheering, and You were swept up in their embrace. Tobio watches you, his heart swelling with pride—not just for the victory, but for having someone who believed in him enough to make him believe in himself.

As they stand there together, surrounded by the noise, the lights, the glory of the moment, Tobio realizes that this—the love, the faith, the strength you both share—is the true alchemy. The power that turned a dream into reality, that forged a connection deeper than any victory, and that will carry them through whatever comes next.

In the end, the championship was just the beginning. The real victory was what you both had created together—the alchemy of two souls, forever bound in love and belief.

[puhpandas]

drew them before bed

[xxplastic-cubexx]

you open my Super Important Documents and its just pictures of charles xavier

[lienwyn]

Kang Yo Han in his natural habitat, as observed by Kim Ga On

OR

You want to fuck that old man so bad it makes you look stupid

[mitskikissme]

My very rushed love letter to @rowdyknives fanfic what it means to love her. hes such a talented writer no jokeee

[coyoteclan]

There are 330 following this blog now HI

Thought I'd share some territory concepts I've been working on! Both for Coyoteclan and a second clangen blog I've been debating, which is set in the wild west :)

I'll write a little blurb for each little area under the cut for those curious about these locations (and separate images)

Coyoteclan

Fallen-Tree Coyoteclan's Leader den and clan meeting place. The tree is ancient and hollow, the entrance coated in the scratches of long-gone cats. The Leader calls meetings from atop the tree, while the deputy sits on the rocks below.

Thunder River A small collection of waterfalls that eventually lead to the sea. From here, you can hear an ominous, melodic sound coming from the beach.

Graves of the Fallen The resting place for Coyoteclan cats. Coyoteclan prefer to commune with their dead here, but still go with the other healers during halfmoon.

Sweetwater Wilds

Trail of Blood Untamed land filled with bandits and danger. Not only are there plenty of predatory animals living here, but it's a popular hiding place for many outlaws.

Canyon of Stars A place for communing with the stars. Sheriffs and Healers visit often for guidance, though some bandits are known to come here in secret.

Hareshade's Dawn Not really a place but this is the Sheriff of Sweetwater Wilds lol I really like her but she's SO TRANSPHOBIC she is BULLYING the only trans cat in the clan and I cannot stop her