#might write a full fic
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thinking about her again
thinking about female Marc Marquez/Mar, the first woman to complete a full season in the premier class and instantly convert it into a championship, how she's the only woman on the grid but people can't even say anything to really diminish her because how can you try to explain away 8 championships and her absolute domination and success even when the bike was trying to kill her?
Thinking about how she's even more intense and insane than Marc is in real life somehow, how she's so lovely but off putting, so contradicting in how she's so animal and strong but still sweet and feminine and uncompromising in how she's a woman and she likes that. She likes being feminine and having long hair, likes dressing up in heels and gold jewellery just as much as she loves dressing up in her leathers and clothes that swallow her whole and being bloodied and sweaty. She always thought she looked at her best a little roughed up.
Thinking about how others see her. How the riders are cautious and a little disarmed causes she's all giggles and big dimpled smiles but that disappears as soon as she touches the bike and next thing they know she's past them, aggressive and hunting and always there. How having a crush on her is almost like a little right of passage for rookies. How she's still handled and touched and pushed around but there's a bit more reverence and want it. Honda and Greseni adore her. Golden Girl, goddess, they give her everything and she gives even more back. Parts of herself. Blood, sweat and tears and doubly devoted as she knows that they took a chance on her when joining Motogp as a woman and how much they did for her. How the media and the public are even more split over her, no matter what she does. How the love is fanatical, the devotion is almost religious, but the hatred so much more intense and vile and even more blatant than it is now.
How the Sepang 2015 fallout is so much worse.
#motogp#fem marc marquez#rule 63#marc marquez#female marc marquez#thinking thoughts#she's insane and dangerous but so lovely#might write a full fic#im actually going insane#I downloaded face app and went a little overboard omg#she's taking over my brain and she's not even real#she's so Carmen by Lana Del Rey like#the boys the girls#they ALL like Carmen/Mar#these are just raw thoughts that will probably be refined more later but I need to feed the brain worm so bad#mar
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𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 gets really loud ‘nd messy. your sticky ass bouncing on his pretty dick with your back arched whilst creating a babbling mess under you, “you like that, rennie?” cooing in his ear with his moans muffled by his teeth sucking in his bottom lip “yesyes f—fuck... y’pussy feels so good..." panting out as he grabs on your ass guiding up and down. “so pretty under me like this..” you put your hand on his chest for stability, “g’na c—cum…” “yea? wanna fill me up baby?” you started rolling your hips painfully slow against his, he hummed a ‘yes’ in response “i suggest you use your words if you wanna cum.” your voice laced in tease, causing him to whine at your remark. “yes! i do..” “then lay there lookin’ pretty..let me take care of you.”
#eren jaeger x you#eren jaeger x black reader smut#eren jaeger x reader#eren jaeger#eren jaeger smut#eren jaeger x black reader#eren yeager x black reader#eren yeager smut#eren smut#snk smut#might write a full fic soon idk tho
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pre ANH au where Din and Luke meet on Tatooine, have their summer romance and all that, and when Din inevitably has to leave Luke gives him a japor snippet (“It’s a good luck charm,” Luke says with a smile. “I’ve seen how reckless you get on your bounties.”) and Din thinks it’s a little silly, but he lets Luke put it around his neck anyway.
It is only a few days later that Din hears about the Lars family, about the fire, about how they never found a third body.
And then Din just…never takes that japor snippet off.
For years he wears it, the sound of the japor clinking against the beskar of his mythosaur pendant becoming so familiar to him that he panics when it falls silent. He reaches for his neck when he cannot hear that ringing sound, reaches for the japor, desperate to make sure it’s still there, that he did not lose what he has left of the man he would never really stop loving. Even when Din is dying, when he takes off his mythosaur pendant to give to Cara, when he begs her to take it, to bring this child he knows nothing of to safety, he keeps the japor close to his slowing heart.
And somehow, Din lives.
(“It’s a good luck charm,” Luke says with a smile.)
#I want Din to have a japor snippet SO bad#gimme more of those parallels to Padme#might maybe write a full fic#we’ll see#din djarin#luke skywalker#dinluke#star wars#the mandalorian
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Marriage Fraud
John MacTavish and Kyle Garrick had gotten married at 15:00 on a Tuesday afternoon in October. There was little fanfare; the civil ceremony took place in the Register Office closest to base with Price and Gaz’s sister as witnesses. They had signed their names on the dotted lines with a flourish, had kissed each other through crooked, boyish grins, and that had been that.
John MacTavish and Kyle Garrick hadn’t dated for a single day prior to their nuptials, with the exception of a week-long drunken bet during basic that both of them had been too stubborn to back out of, and their engagement had lasted the legally-required 28 days. It was marriage fraud, plain and simple; the two men had met in basic training and had forged a brotherhood in between grueling days and sporadic nights, and then the pact was formed. Both of them had gotten thoroughly sick and tired of living in the barracks and relying on mess hall food and, without any long-term significant others to pop the question to, they had decided to take matters into their own hands. When they both passed SAS selection, both setting new records, it had seemed like a sign.
The marriage pact had been Kyle’s idea, so Johnny had been the one to propose, if his half-slurred, half-asleep suggestion could even be called a proposal, but Gaz had readily agreed and the next morning, they had burst into Price’s office, demanding both his blessing and presence at the ceremony. His eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline and he had nearly choked to death on his cigar smoke, but he had agreed to both nonetheless.
That had been over three years ago.
In the three years since, as they climbed the ranks from Private to Corporal to Sergeant, the topic of their marriage hardly ever came up. They wore their respective rings, both made from recycled bullet casings, on their right hands instead of their left, and they never mentioned it to anyone. If anyone wondered how they had gotten permission to live off base or why they commuted to work more often than not, no one ever thought to ask them, and they never volunteered any answers. They shared their house like roommates, respecting both each other’s privacy and dating lives, which were few and far between. Dating in the military was hard enough without being Spec Ops, so any relationship either of them ever had never lasted long enough for their fake marriage to ever be remotely close to an issue.
And then the 141 was formed.
It was a dream come true for both of them. They had both already been SAS under Price’s command, but the specialization of the task force brought a certain job security that ensured their continued cohabitation. The SAS’s base of operations was in Herefordshire, so that’s where Soap and Gaz had bought their house, but there had always been the threat of relocation to any of the other British Army bases across the world, and there was no guarantee that they would have been transferred together. The 141, however, was a cohesive unit, a permanent placement. Wherever one went, the rest were sure to follow.
The task force also brought Ghost.
At first, Johnny hadn’t given Ghost much thought, especially where his fake marriage was concerned. Ghost didn’t seem the type to concern himself overmuch with the personal details of his teammates, up to and including their sexual orientations, living situations, or marital statuses. He himself lived off base, courtesy of being a commissioned officer rather than enlisted, and never seemed to devote a first thought, much less a second one, to Soap and Gaz’s own off-base housing. More often than not, they were in the field anyway, which limited nearly every avenue of personal conversation and, after nearly four years of their marriage being little more than a technical detail on a form somewhere, both Soap and Gaz often forgot that they were even married in the first place.
So Soap didn’t think much of it when he started flirting with Ghost over the comms. Ghost was a scary son of a bitch, but that had always been his type, and he couldn’t deny that the mask did something for him. Hell, everything about Ghost did something for him. It had started as banter, really, but Soap loved to toe the line, and it was a slippery slope that he was all too eager to throw himself down. What was truly shocking was Ghost’s own willingness to play along. And then the flirting turned into… more. Turned into casual physical touch that Ghost would’ve slit anyone else’s throat for even thinking about initiating, turned into whispered promises in the backs of helos before missions, turned into kisses pressed into gloved knuckles and masked cheeks.
And suddenly, Soap realized that his marriage might be an issue.
His relationship with Ghost, while technically undefined, was by far the most serious and potentially long-lasting relationship he’d had since signing his marriage license. Most of the people he had dated over the years hadn’t been military and had quickly grown tired of the inconsistency, the missed birthdays and anniversaries, the lack of communication while he’d been on mission, and the lack of leave time in general. But not Ghost, because Ghost got it. Half of the time, Ghost was right there in the field with him. There wasn’t any inconsistency with them, no lack of leave time to grumble over, no shortage of communication between them, both in person and over comms. Their relationship worked for exactly the same reasons why his and Gaz’s non-relationship had worked for so long: they both understood.
And suddenly, Soap realized that, after four years of hiding a marriage to his best friend in the world from quite literally everyone he knew, he’d have to fess up. Not only that, he’d have to file for divorce, which was something that neither he nor Gaz had taken into consideration when they had signed their names in the Register Office all those years ago.
It all came to a head when Johnny got injured in the field. Nothing major, just a few broken bones and a hell of a concussion, but he had woken up to Gaz and Ghost sitting on either side of his hospital bed, Gaz’s clear contrition only matched by Ghost’s clear confusion. The first question out his mouth was why Gaz was listed as Soap’s next of kin and emergency contact, which snowballed into a full confession, corroborated by Price when he stuck his head in to check on Soap a few minutes later.
Ghost, after recovering from his initial shock, found the entire situation hilarious and, months later, after both the divorce papers and the new notice of marriage had gone through, took delight in calling himself Johnny’s second husband, which never failed to make any rookie caught eying the sergeant shake in their boots at the thought of what someone like Ghost did to Johnny’s first husband. Soap and Gaz still wore their rings, because they had always been more like friendship bracelets than anything else, and Johnny’s left ring finger was quickly occupied by a silver ring made from one of Simon’s ID Discs.
Gaz was disappointed about having to move back into on-base housing, but it didn’t last long because Price had been waiting for four years for his sergeants to figure their shit out and file for divorce so that he could make his move and he wasn’t about a waste a single second. And if anyone accused them of moving too quickly, well… they were all military men, after all.
#call of duty#cod#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#ghoap#ghostsoap#soapghost#john price#fake relationship#gazprice#tombstone's ficlets#might write a full fic about this but I doubt it#the idea just got stuck in my head and I had to release it#tombstone's epitaphs
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imagine being a shy little intern at jujutsu high and getting the fattest crush on gojo because he’s just. so strong and cool. you idolize him. you want to be his friend. and he seems to take a liking to you; he’s cheery and encouraging and sweet in a roundabout way. you feel like you’ve grown pretty close to him.
imagine him falling asleep right next to you on a sofa in the cafeteria. you can barely tell, with his blindfold still on. but you scurry away to find a blanket, happy that he trusts you enough to rest in your proximity, ready to wrap it around him —
only for it to slip right off. rejected by his infinity.
(he never turns it off, around you.)
#throws up blood#thinking about how gojo’s infinity is both a very real power and a metaphor for the barrier between him and the world#he’s sooo guarded and it breaks my heart#this is kind of part of a drabble im planning on writing for him……#i like the idea of him with a reader who idolizes him. while he never quite views them as important#not at all in a mean way . you just don’t have a chance of breaking into his heart.#he might act friendly but he’ll never let you in#…. he’s so stray cat coded#ari noises ✩#gojo x reader#anyway don’t mind me posting this rq i’ll post a full gojo fic tmrw this has just been rotting in my drafts for a bit 😭
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A Panic in Time (DP x DC)
This is all thanks to the awesome @tkiesai for basically being the foundation of this idea! This is probably going to be long, and probably won't delve that deep into my ideas about this idea. Largely so it's not insanely long. But here I go!
°•°•°•°
Bruce's head felt like it had been shoved through a straw and spit out on the other side. The throbbing was annoying, but it wasn't anything the man couldn't handle.
His mind was muddled, memories of what happened prior to him awaking was blurry and unsure. Bruce knew it wasn't something good.
He vaguely remembered a league meeting, a threat, something looming. It wasn't world ending, or at least that's what Bruce remembered. It should have been something they could handle.
But now, here was Bruce. Waking up in the grass of some random park. He was dressed in casual attire, something he'd wear in public as Bruce. Although last he remembered he was in the Batsuit.
The sun felt too bright in the sky. The sound of families filled the air and children's laughter. No one seemed to blink twice at Bruce as he pulled himself together.
It took a moment to steel himself, to gain composer again. It took a few sweet lines, and a charming smile for a nice mother to slide him a few painkillers. The lies rolling off his tongue like second nature.
To his luck there was a newspaper at the top of the trashcan. He was in some town called Amity Park, and the year... the year was the problem.
It was 1996. Whatever had happened had sent Bruce back in time. There was a few suspects Bruce can think were the cause of this. But something in his gut kept drawing his train of thought to the Flash.
It seemed like each time the League had any time related problems, Barry was in the center of it. Which also leaves Bruce with the question if he was the only one sent back in time.
God, he could only imagine the nightmare if the others were sent back in time. Yes, they can be professional. They understand the risk of changing things in the past.
But Bruce also understands that his team can be less than... intelligent at times.
Despite that, Bruce needed to find a way to get back to Gotham. He might not know for sure where everyone was right now, but he knew Alfred was the safest bet.
A plan laid out in Bruce's mind, a list of people he knew wouldn't be a risk to approach. He just needed to find a way to get to them. He had barely made it to the gates of the park before a shrill cry pierced the air.
There was just one loud outcry, before it quieted down. Bruce glance around the space, spotting a young boy curled on the ground. Tears streamed down the boy's chubby cheeks.
And no one even moved to the boy's aid. Not a single mother spared more than one glance in the kid's directions. No parents came rushing over to the boy's side.
Bruce almost walked away, he really did. This wasn't his time, anything he does can cause immense damage to the timeline. But when Bruce caught sight of blood bubbling from a scrape on the boy's knee, Bruce couldn't ignore him.
Maybe it's just the father in him, but Bruce barely even notices when he's crossing the small distance. His mind zeroing in on a hurt child that needed help. Kneeling before the small boy with a gentle smile, and pulling his handkerchief free from his pocket.
"You're alright there, buddy. It looks like you took a bit of a tumble there." Bruce slipped into the same tone he used to use when his kids were young. Gentle and understanding, as he pressed the handkerchief to the small scrape.
The boy sniffled, tears slipping from his eyes. Bruce was more focused on the way the kid was looking at him. Like he couldn't fathom someone coming to his aid.
That look had Bruce's heart breaking slightly. He's seen a similar look before. The few times he's come to the aid of a hurt child that wasn't used to getting help.
Something no child should ever feel or experience.
"Where's your parents, kiddo?" Bruce asked after a moment of silence from the boy. He had waited until the kid's breathing settled down when the boy's chest stopped pumping so quickly.
Except his question only seemed to bring a new wave of tears to the boy's eyes. The small child just seemed to curl into himself further, ducking his gaze away from Bruce.
And as much as Bruce didn't want it to be true, it was clear the kid didn't have the support he needed. It might not as be as far as some of Bruce's kids have had in the past.
But it was clearly not good.
"That's okay, it's alright. What's your name?" Bruce tried again. The boy's silence was leaving an uncomfortable pit in Bruce's stomach.
"D-Danny..." The boy spoke out his name between sniffles, and Bruce felt a wave of relief hearing the boy speak.
In hindsight, Bruce can see how strange the scene might look. A slightly disheveled man comforting a lone young boy in a park. It wasn't exactly perfect.
But with the lack of reactions from the parents around, Bruce had a feeling the town had an idea who this boy was. The whole situation just didn't feel that right for him.
It took a few more comments before Bruce managed to get the boy to crack a smile. A laugh had felt like breaking a massive wall.
Before long, Bruce had Danny actually like any other boy he's known. Carefree and happy, just like a child should be.
"You didn't tell me your name, mister." Danny had suddenly cut down the relaxed moment they were in. A pout laced the boy's lips as he looked up at Bruce, almost accusatory.
"I'm Bruce. Bruce Wayne." Bruce responded without missing a beat. He knew this might cause problems in the future. He wasn't supposed to be here.
But when his gut is telling him something, he can't just ignore it. He checked his pockets, finding no business cards anywhere. So, Bruce fell back in plan B.
"No matter how long it's been from now, you can come to me for help. Just look for Bruce Wayne in Gotham City, and when you find me... just say Fairbanks sent you."
Bruce wasn't sure if he'll ever see Danny again when he goes back to his own time. Wasn't even sure if this was the same universe as his own. But he couldn't walk away without at least offering the boy help in some way.
When Danny's eyes filled up with tears again, Bruce thought he said something wrong at first. That was until the boy was suddenly clinging to his shoulders in a tight embrace, muttering 'thank you' over and over again.
Bruce felt himself almost close to tears just from that alone. His heart was aching for the small boy. Even if Bruce couldn't help Danny anymore than this, he was hoping the boy would have a better life.
One where he wasn't clinging to a stranger for comfort that family should be providing him.
THWAMP
It didn't hurt, but it did cut their hug short as Bruce suddenly pulled away. Turning his head to see a young girl wielding a wiffle bat, and another young boy standing behind her.
Her purple eyes glared at Bruce like he had done the worst thing in the world. Her grip on the bat was threatening and ready to swing again. Her knuckles white from the tight grip alone.
Maybe leaving this time era might not be as easy as Bruce thought as the young girl probbed him with angry and scolding questions. Not that Bruce could blame her.
He just hoped this hiccup didn't get back to the league. They'd have a field day hearing about how Batman got scolded by a child with a wiffle bat.
°•°•°•°•°•°
Danny wasn't sure if this was the best idea. It's been years since he met Bruce Wayne. So many years. Danny had just been a kid, not even ten, when Bruce had introduced himself.
When he had an adult, actually check in on him. Yet, it was a memory Danny couldn't forget. Maybe it was just the kindness that Bruce radiated.
Or maybe it was when Sam came to his "rescue" near the end. Regardless, it was cemented in his mind. A core memory that Danny cared with him through the years.
Now, here he was, roughly seven years later. Standing in front of a manor that put even Sam's place to shame.
It took a lot of courage for Danny to knock. Barely a second later, an old man answered the door, an accent Danny was certain Bruce hadn't had.
A stuttered explaination of being here to see Bruce Wayne, that the man knew him, barely left Danny's mouth before the old man ushered him inside.
The man, Alfred, told Danny to wait by the door before vanishing further into the manor. It took a lot for Danny to not just vanish.
Being half ghost nowadays had its quirks, Danny could just vanish, and no one but Alfred would know. But he couldn't.
It had taken a lot for Danny to make the journey to Gotham City. He hadn't even thought to look up a current picture of Bruce either. Which was probably a big mistake on his end.
Danny didn't even know if Bruce was offering this kind of help. But Danny didn't have many allies to turn to. He needed help.
Not just for himself but for his family. For Amity Park. He couldn't be afforded the ability to run away. Not now.
Danny felt all the air leave his lungs when Bruce entered the area. The man didn't look a day older than what Danny remembered. Bruce looked a bit more put together, not like he had just jumped out of a moving car, but it was Bruce.
"Uhm... I don't know if you remember me. But my name's Danny... we met when I was a kid." Danny started trying to explain himself before Bruce could speak. He recognized that confused look anywhere, and Danny didn't have the guts to go through with this if Bruce asked any questions.
"You told me if I ever needed help, to come find you. Bruce Wayne in Gotham City... you, uh, told me to tell you Fairbanks sent me?"
That came out more like a question than Danny would have liked. But it did ease his nerves a bit as he watched Bruce's slightly confused expression turn to alarm and surprise.
Danny wasn't sure what this would do. If Bruce could truly help him. But he was out of options. Just seeing Bruce recognize something he said was enough to calm the teen's anxiety slightly.
"I'm sorry, Danny... I don't remember you. But I believe you and I want to help you. Come inside, have a seat, and tell me what's going on."
That response was enough to have Danny's eyes fill with tears. His chest filling with a sense of hope he hadn't felt in weeks now.
Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.
#dc x dp#batman#dp x dc#phandom#bruce wayne#danny fenton#child danny fenton#sam manson#tucker foley#ofc Sam saw a stranger hugging her crying friend and wasn't going to just stand by#is it really dpxdc without angst?#for whatever reason when Bruce went back to his time he had forgotten the memories of what happened during his trip#he didn't remember meeting Danny but he couldn't just ignore a teen who knows one of the few codewords he has#besides how could Bruce not believe a kid who has his codeword and looks exactly like a child Bruce would adopt#Bruce will never live this down#just because he doesn't remember doesn't mean Danny and everyone else doesn't#they know so Bruce get's to learn a second time about being battered with a wiffle bat by child Sam#no current plans to turn this into a full fic cause I'm trying to keep my list of active fics short#but if anyone wants to take this idea and run with it all I require is a link drop!!!#I partly wanted to write more#but my brain is only coming up with certain scenes and not how it all ties into the main plot#basically Justice League stuff happens that sends Bruce (and maybe others) back in time where Bruce meets child Danny#what exactly well don't ask me#Danny be crying a bit in this one#but come on he was just a baby at the start#by the end he's just an overwhelmed teenager who is just happy to have someone who might be able to help on his side
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MINORS DONT INTERACT
Although you didn’t necessarily think of your old college friend, Asahi, as a freak in the sheets, you were surprised to find out that, at 27, he was still a virgin. He was definitely not a proud one, after one too many dates had ghosted and cancelled on him when they found out. Nothing would make him happier than getting it over with and finally be able to resume his dating life. So being the good friend you were (and totally not to trying still your own sexual frustration after being sexless for nearly a year), you offered to take his virginity. He nearly choked on his coffee when you finished your proposal, but he couldn’t bring himself to say no.
#signed by rae#I’m totally not writing a smut piece about asahi 🫣#does anyone even care about asahi? I literally never see anyone write for him#I’m horrible at writing full length fics so this might never see the light of day lmfao#haikyuu smut#asahi azumane#azumane asahi#azumane asahi x reader#asahi azumane x reader#asahi smut#asahi azumane smut#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu imagines#hq smut#hq drabble
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Y’know that TikTok sound from The Good Place that went around a while back? Yeah here’s Tim with it
Dick: why can’t you just accept that Bruce is a good Batman/dad for Damian?
Tim: Because I wanted that B! I wanted the person who would take me out for ice cream after patrol! I wanted the Bruce who insists we have a party for my birthday! Instead of sending me home and testing me every chance he gets! Why does Damian get that Bruce?
(And then the whole arc is Bruce being like, “you made me like this. I couldn’t be this for you and I’m sorry, but you brought me out of that low point.” And Tim’s like “wow, thank you.” And Steph/Babs/Duke/literally anyone or everyone except Tim is like “BULLSHIT he does not get a thank you for that!! Bull. Shit.”)
#might actually write a full fic#where the kick off is Bruce throwing Damian a birthday party#and Tim’s standing there on edge the whole time#wait shit now I wanna make this happen#tim drake#mine
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Headcanon
Sebastian is a good student. He’s bright, he’s charming, and it’s no wonder his teachers think he’s capable because his parents were both professors so it would make sense that he’s grown up well-read and educated.
But then Anne gets cursed before the end of their fourth year and stops attending Hogwarts - as his fourth year draws to a close, his grades begin to slip because he’s not paying attention in class, he starts breaking curfew because he’s staying up after hours to research cures, all he can think about is how to help his sister and it negatively impacts his studies. He puts on a facade in class, but his smiles are fake, and when he thinks no one is looking, he turns sullen. The only friend he spends much time with anymore is Ominis, and while their friendship is admirable, it’s a far cry from the boy who used to banter with everyone, the boy who always had something to say. The professors try to be understanding given his circumstances, but they’re all undeniably worried about him.
At the beginning of fifth year, this behaviour continues - but there’s something different, if only slightly. Hecat notices it first in the first DADA lesson of the year when he duels the new fifth year; despite the fact he loses this duel, she notices the way he grins at the new student, his boyish face bright in a way it hasn’t been since his sister was cursed. It’s nice to see him smile again, she thinks.
The next to notice it is Professor Weasley, when she comes to fetch him from detention with a “special task”; he looks surprised but relieved to be out of detention, and listens as she explains that she wants him to take the new fifth year to Hogsmeade for supplies. She doesn’t miss the way he beams ear to ear upon hearing that the fifth year asked for him specifically when encouraged to go with a friend, and as he goes to meet them in the entrance hall, there’s a sudden bounce to his step. It makes her smile to herself, pleased that he seems genuinely happy.
It doesn’t take long for all of the faculty to notice it, and it becomes a hot topic of conversation among them. Garlick insists that she keeps seeing him and the new fifth year laughing together on their way to Herbology, even on days they don’t work together; Sharp notes that while Sebastian still works with Ominis, he’s often seen at the potion station of the new student, the two of them talking in low teasing tones that suggest a friendly banter. Ronen disclosed that while the new student often chooses to sit with Natty or Poppy for Charms, he’s caught them and Sebastian looking at each other from across the classroom; everyone has a good chuckle when even Fig remarks that he’s often seen Sebastian waiting outside of his classroom when the new student leaves, as if the Slytherin boy has been waiting to see them. Many of the other teachers also recall seeing the two in each other’s presence around the school constantly, sharing sweets and talking.
They all agree that the presence of the new fifth year student is the cause of Sebastian’s uplifted mood, there’s no other explanation quite frankly. He’s not completely the same as he was before - he is still breaking curfew, still not focusing completely on his work, still seems sullen on most days - but when he’s around the new student, he’s definitely happier and more like his old self.
#hogwarts legacy#sebastian sallow#headcanon#matilda weasley#eleazar fig#aesop sharp#anne sallow#I might write a full length fic or one shot one day who knows#just having a lot of Sebastian feelings today#sebastian x mc#sebastian sallow x mc#sebastian sallow x reader
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Blood Blossom Au: before the nightingale sings
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for my batdad blood blossom au, the one where Vlad poisoned Danny with blood blossom extract and Danny ran away from him and ended up tumbling into the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman :). A quick oneshot telling the tale of the tragic deaths of the Fentons
TW: Major Character Death Warning
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Not all deaths are created equal.
That is a valuable lesson in life to learn. One that Danny learns when he is eleven years old, standing in the pit of his parents’ creation; the culmination of their life’s work. The portal to the other side, the realm of the dead. To the infinite.
He learns that when he’s eleven years old, in a hazmat suit that sags on him, and boots that clunk when he walks because the only ones that fit are his mom’s, and even those are too big. In gloves that he has to clench his fists in because otherwise they fall off. In goggles that slide down his nose even when he’s tightened them the farthest they can go.
He learns that when he’s eleven years old, choking on giggles that harmonize with the laughter of his friends’ who stand at the mouth of the tunnel. Sam’s holding a polaroid in her hand. They’re just being kids.
They’re not laughing when Danny’s hand hits the safety lock — the one with faulty wiring, the only one in the tunnel. The only one he could possibly hit. They’re not laughing when the portal buzzes to life, and the lights inside switch on row by row as the generator begins to rumble and hum.
They’re not laughing when Danny dies. They’re screaming. They’re not screaming when he comes back.
Not all deaths are created equal.
Some are poetic, beautiful. The satisfying close of a book as it comes to an end, of the hardback thumping soft against the pages like the sound of a door closing. A train run its course.
Some are violent; unsatisfying; unfair. The unexpected shattering of an egg as it rolls off the countertop when nobody is looking, the unmistakable crack as it falls to the floor. It is abrupt and messy.
But most are just… unremarkable. Unintentional. Clumsy.
Danny’s family dies one night in late January. He is thirteen years old, barely a month away from fourteen. It is unforeseen. It is preventable. It happens.
It happens like this:
Their water heater breaks one Monday in January. It’s old, sitting in the garage, and has dealt with nearly sixteen years of Fenton-grade chaos and shenanigans. Of parents tossing scraps and junk into the garage as brief storage to come back to later. Of illegal tune-ups on their vehicles that result in something exploding. Of little children running around and knocking things over, playing with poles and sticks they find on the ground, on the shelves. Of being lived and used.
Something had to give.
Jack Fenton notices it immediately when he comes upstairs that very afternoon — his children at school, his wife downstairs — to grab something from the garage. The very same scrap and used material they store like squirrels to use later.
He stops what he’s doing to fix it.
It wasn’t supposed to be permanent.
Despite what many believe, Jack Fenton is not the idiot people make him out to be. He knows what he’s good at, he knows what he’s not. He knows he can be passionate and obsessive and single-minded about things. He knows that he is a scientist, an inventor; an engineer.
He knows that he is not a plumber. That fixing water heaters is not something he knows how to do, not safely. And he loves his family. What he does is only meant to be temporary — a fix meant to only last a few days until they can call someone in who can fix it for them.
So Jack Fenton futzes with the water heater, gives it a temporary stitch to last a short while, and reminds himself to call a plumber later that day to come in and fix it. He turns and leaves the garage with the part he came for — a sheet of metal for his wife to melt down — and disappears back downstairs.
He does not make that call; it slips from his mind.
It is not his fault.
One day passes, then two, then suddenly it is Thursday. The water heater has still not been fixed, the water heater has been forgotten. It is nobody’s fault.
Danny asks his parents at breakfast if he can stay over at Tucker’s house for the night. Just one night. They’re going to study for their math test and then play video games until midnight, but he only tells his parents that first half.
He’s been doing well in school. Really well — better than he has in a while. There’s been a delightful lull in ghost appearances for the last few weeks. The living don’t know why, but Danny does. The Winter Truce always calms the dead down for a while, something about how the Zone cleanses itself twice a mortal year and that fresh wave of ecto clears out the old and brings in the new.
This year Danny got to participate. He’s feeling the effects of it too, and he’s been sleeping consistently well for the first time since the accident.
It’ll never happen again.
His parents agree under the condition that he doesn’t stay up late, and Danny harmlessly lies through his teeth and agrees. He goes and throws overnight clothes into his school backpack, and when he leaves for school with Jazz his parents are already departed into the lab.
The last conversation he has with his sister is in her car on the drive to school. Inane, mindless conversation to fill the air and pass the time. Jazz comments on how relaxed he’s been lately; Danny tells her about the Winter Truce. She listens in rapt attention.
She tells him that she’s glad to see him so well-rested. She thinks her little brother’s been growing up too fast these days. She thinks he’s been too tense. Too caught up with the spinning of the world around him that he forgets about himself sometimes.
When they reach school, before Danny can get out of the car, Jazz looks to her little brother and says; “I love you.”
Her little brother’s cheeks turn an embarrassed shade of red. He makes a scrunched up, grossed-out face, but can’t hide the smile pulling across it. “Don’t be a sap, Jazz. I’ll see you later.” He tells her, yanking his hood up over his head. She hears the bashful, ‘love you too’ before he walks away.
That is the last conversation she ever has with her brother.
Thursday is unremarkable, passing by in its normality as it always does. There’s one, maybe two ghost sightings; shades lurking around in curious infancy that are easily spooked away by the presence of a greater being. Danny doesn’t even have to go ghost.
Thursday evening is even less so. Danny goes to Tucker’s house — Sam has a prior arrangement with her slam poetry club — and the two of them study for an hour before they toss their textbooks aside and reach for the game console.
Danny sleeps in Tucker’s room with one of the extra blankets on his bed, curled across the room in one of the bean bag chairs. It shouldn’t be comfortable, but to Danny it is. He sleeps throughout the night, the portal shut down by his parents before they’d gone to bed.
Early Friday morning, before the sun has even risen yet, before it’s even so much as a concept to grace the horizon, the water heater breaks again. It was supposed to be fixed.
Carbon monoxide is a silent killer. Odorless and scentless, it kills within minutes. It fills the house like a shadow casting over the ground, creeping into the rooms.
Danny’s family die in their sleep; painless and unaware.
It’s not Jack Fenton’s fault. He didn’t mean to.
Nobody wakes up with their alarms.
Danny wakes up to Tucker Foley’s alarm on Friday morning, and he turns his head intangible and shoves it into the beanbag chair like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. Tucker gets up before him, and throws a pillow at him as he reaches for the alarm.
There’s laughter, messing around. The both of them get dressed, and Danny has breakfast with the Foleys that morning. He takes the bus to school with Tucker, and they meet Sam by their lockers.
To him, everything is as normal as it should be. There are no ghosts for him to fight right now, school is as school does, and he’s on top of all his schoolwork.
He does not see Jazz at all that morning, he doesn’t notice. Their schedules are so different, their routes on different paths, that it’s not uncommon for Danny to not see Jazz until he gets home some days. That’s if there’s no ghost attacks.
At lunch, he gets approached by her friends. Worried creases between their brows, they ask him if he’s seen Jazz. She hasn’t shown up to any of her classes. She’s not answering their texts. It’s unprecedented of her; unheard of.
Danny doesn’t admit to the concern that swells in his gut when they tell him this. He shrugs at them, and says he hasn’t seen her either. But it was probably nothing to worry about; she might just be sick and sleeping it off.
He offers to text her and let them know if he gets a response, and that seems to ease her friends enough that they shuffle away in uncertainty. He keeps his word, and does exactly that. He pulls out his phone and opens her contact, and shoots her a message.
‘Where are you?’
He doesn’t get a response back, Danny is left on sent. He puts his phone in his pocket, and with a sense of unease creeping in the back of his mind, goes on with his day. He gets no response by the time the final bell rings; and he tries not to be worried.
The house is quiet when he opens the door. Unusually quiet. He drops his backpack to the floor, it lands with a hearty thunk, and begins to take off his jacket. “Mom! Dad!” He yells. He hangs it up, and slips his shoes from his feet. “Jazz skipped school today!”
A laughable untruth that would get his sister all riled up normally; she should be able to hear him from the front door if she was in her room. The house just stays dead silent.
He can’t even hear the usual banging and crashing from the lab. His unease returns. He reaches for the intercom that leads directly down to the basement, and presses the button to turn it on. A burst of static, and then he speaks;
“Mom? Dad?”
Danny lets go, and waits for a response. He gets none back. That never happens, not when the house is this quiet. Not when he knows they should’ve heard him.
Something sickly and fearful borns in the pit of his stomach, and begins to snake upward. He heads for the lab. The cool metal of the door is familiar in the grooves of his hand, and he doesn’t even need to think about the code as he punches it in; he simply lets muscle memory guide him. It’s been the same since he was little.
The door hisses as the pressure is released, and he swings the door open. He takes the stairs down two at a time. Something is wrong. His parents aren’t answering him. His feet pound against the metal.
“Mom? Dad?” He calls again, more worried, more frantic. More scared. His voice echoes down the stairwell, and he reaches the bottom before it’s fully faded. The lab is empty. The portal is still shut down.
It was four in the afternoon, they should still be down here.
Danny races back upstairs, fear-raised nausea coiling in his throat. “This isn’t funny you guys!” He yells when he reaches the top, shoving open the door with more force than necessary. His head swims, his voice cracked.
He checks the garage, the car is still there.
“Mom!? Dad!” His voice bellows out throughout the first floor, loud enough that it bounces back at him and rings against his ears. He’s never raised his voice this much — mom would scold him if she heard him. But she doesn’t show up. “Jazmine!”
Finally, he goes upstairs, and he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is anger or terror. Something is very, very wrong.
He swings the door of his parents’ rooms open first, and there they are, with the lights still off and the curtains still drawn. As if they hadn’t left their bed all day. Some of Danny’s fear lifts from his shoulders just by the sight of them, but he’s still trembling. Something is still wrong — the room smells… off. Not good, not bad. Just… off.
He swallows dryly, his throat still thick, and steps into the room. “Mom, dad?” They do not stir. “Didn’t you guys hear me yelling?”
There is only room static. Danny’s heart shrivels in his chest with a tenfold return of terror, he feels ill. He remembers, just now, that they’re not heavy sleepers, and his dad should be snoring like a freight house.
Danny reaches their bedside in seconds, hand outstretching for the covers, “Momma? Dad?”
Not all deaths are created equal.
But many of them are accidental. Unmeditated. Shocking.
Danny Fenton finds his family dead in his childhood home. He runs to his neighbors in hysterics, inconsolable, in tears. Nine-one-one is called, but there is nothing that can be done. They were dead for hours by the time Daniel Fenton returned home.
He sits on the front steps of the neighbor’s house beside FentonWorks, his jeans slowly becoming wet from the snow that was unable to be scraped off, and watches the paramedics cart out his family beneath white sheets. There are police cars blocking off the street, yellow tape blocking off his house, red-blue lights lighting up the block, an ambulance on the scene. He is wrapped in a shock blanket, and he is missing his jacket and his shoes. His tears are freezing onto his face, he can’t feel the chill.
Not all deaths are created equal
But all of them are unforgettable.
#dpxdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc#dpxdc crossover#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc au#dpxdc fic#blood blossom au#dpxdc ficlet#starry's writing#tw character death#cw death#angst#hurt no comfort#carbon monoxide poisoning almost sounds like a plain way to go when compared to the other batkids. but then you think about it for more#than a second and then the inherent horror of it all creeps in. danny found his family dead. he found their corpses.#i didnt feel comfortable writing it - just a little bit too heavy even for me yet - but just know that danny shook his parents as if he was#trying to wake them up when he realized they were dead. he went into emotional shock and kinda mentally shutdown.#he yelled and screamed and tried to wake them. and then rushed to his sister's room only to find the same thing. rinse and repeat#more time passed between danny finding them and him going to his neighbor's than what i showed#no more than an hour because the house was still full of carbon monoxide but longer than five minutes. long enough that when he finally wen#over - in hysterics and missing his shoes and jacket - he was completely inconsolable. he was having a breakdown.#when i was writing the ending scene with the paramedics and police and stuff i was very much calling on how i imagine Bruce's own experienc#might have gone. different but similar. with a thousand yard stare and water in their ears#two boys wrapped in shock blankets surrounded by police lights and having just seen their families dead. teehee
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you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah
#sorry i got really into my feelings about mark hoffman again#the very specific version of him in my brain that i really really wish i had the time and energy to properly share with you guys#saw#well until i muster the energy to explode all of my feelings out into a fic. if you want to TRY and understand#know that my three biggest hoffman fic insps right now are as follows#your best kept secret hoffman. a series of mistakes hoffman. and rushed like a dreadful wind hoffman.#there is a very clear throughline just know i am extremely emotionally compromised rn#thinking about theee fics vs the canon path hoffman spirals down#something something the absolute tragedy of watching a man's descent into madness#the transformation of a man into a monster#and what could have saved him from himself and kramer's corruption#sorry i'm rambling so much oh my god i was just having such a crying fit out of nowhere about this#do you think he could feel it happening. do you think he was aware he was losing his mind.#the script version of him fucks with me so bad. the crazed rankings and the longer hair and him not being well kept anymore#it's impossible to think he didn't know he was deteriorating#fuuuck okay i need to either chill or write a whole longfic rn#i project on that guy so much i truly don't know if i could properly write my vision of him#until i do something more substantial the full extent of my hoffman exists for me and my boyfriend only. they get me like no one else#well ginny and jenna also get me. please read best kept secret and a series of mistakes Oh My God#where am i going with this. i like tag rambling actually this is a nice way to do it without forcing EVERYONE to read my delirium#anyways if you've read all of this i think i love you? feel free to dm me about hoffman and my very specific headcanons and aus#maybe soon i'll try and start writing my fics about this tragic man#i could never say any of this on twitter btw they'd string me up for my opinions on him as a sad wet beast who could have been fixed#if only he hadn't been weaponized first#god i'm too tired to even be as embarrassed about this as i should be. thought i unlearned cringe already#but i've been spending way too much time on twitter and they HAAATE hoffman there#rip. i know it's not that serious but i'm sensitive rn and hate feeling lonely in my thoughts#ok bye for real otherwise i'll never shut up. i might tag ramble more often bc this was therapeutic in a way i needed badly#cat chat
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okay this literally kept me up last night but i imagine that theo and mattheo would have this silent competition of hickeys and bite marks? it started out as theo just getting too carried away, leaving a trail of hickeys from your neck down your tits and mattheo saw them a day or two later, leaving a bite mark or two in response on your inner thigh or on the soft flesh of your ass and they'd genuinely just feed of off each other? who cares about not being able to walk straight when they marked you up in just about every place they could reach?
JDJKSNS imagine secretly hooking up with both of them and they have no idea until one day they find out so they now have this silent competition of who can cover you in the most hickeys, bite marks and bruises lmao and you’re so fucking confused like ??? what the hell is going on and why are they both covering me in so many hickeys ??? and and and every time you have sex with them, they fuck you even harder and better so honestly you don’t even question it anymore cause you’re in fucking heaven…
#istg no one steal this idea cause i might just write a full fic about it#cause ppl sometimes like to steal shit ahem…#♡₊˚ for arina 🍒・₊#anon#mattheodore#mattheodore.chatting
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a couple of people have asked for a carlos POV of in theory and actually. thinking about it. it's pretty funny. imagine being carlos, carlos who gets everything in his life he's ever wanted carlos, carlos who feels he has nothing further to prove to anyone carlos (this is a lie btw), carlos who gets saddled with OSCAR, who barely tolerates him, as an executive assistant.
oscar who shows few emotions. doesn't give a f about seniority. thinks carlos is incredibly arrogant (he's not wrong here but, like recognises like.) oscar who knows carlos can't even do his own expenses without having an emotional support espresso or spending half an hour whining to oscar even though he did it himself years before oscar even joined, etc etc.
and carlos has to. endure it. while oscar blatantly ignores his charm offensive and his attempts at being jovial and his bad bilingual puns and carlos, because everyone usually loves carlos, and he-- he just. he cannot for the life of him figure out why he's also so compelled by this australian dude. doesn't know what to do with himself. just keeps interactions to a transactional minimum and puts up a front like he is soooo curt and uncaring about everything but. the warmth seeps through anyway, a vine that's destined to grow despite his attempts not to let it.
so what, if carlos lies awake in bed with racing thoughts too late at night thinking of revenues and EBITDA and platinum tiers and air miles. so what, if this sometimes bleeds into thoughts regarding his work-life balance or lack thereof, and therefore, oscar's stupid little hair swoop, his frown. his insane excel sheet formulas that even carlos, MBA graduate, takes a second to understand. oscar and his indifference and his scary efficiency and the way he talks a bit too fast when he's tipsy and his ice cold hands.
(at the christmas party with yuki. carlos pretends not to listen but hears every word. why would oscar tell yuki all that, and not him, when he’s tried to ask about oscar's interests before? anyway.)
and then. the christmas gifts happen and carlos thinks he's crossed a line. was the terrarium too far, he wonders. normally people love it when carlos is thoughtful like that. his exes even said so. but no! oscar takes the terrarium, the one carlos made a specific detour for on an airline that he couldn't even get miles on!
and oscar just. stares, and stares at the terrarium. then he gives carlos this...look. and it gets embarrassingly intimate and carlos "really does have to go take his call" even though the client did say it is fine to switch to email because, christmas. yeah. and then he's thinking about it the whole way back to madrid too.
then oscar QUITS on CHRISTMAS DAY (rude) for no explainable reason and carlos is like oh my god is it really ME. how can anybody not like ME ? reddit, AITA???
so carlos mulls on it. carlos wants to atone. just maybe. set things straight. let oscar know that. actually. all feelings aside, he was really an excellent EA and carlos wishes him the best with everything. he maybe sends a text to thank him with those very words. but christmas eve comes and goes, and so does christmas day, and there's no reply at all from oscar. what the hell, carlos thinks. no i can't have him leave and there's so much in my email that i – i didn't even say. he just. needs to let oscar know that he appreciated it.
(he doesn't know what "it" is per se. just that. he feels strongly. so he needs to do something about that.)
soooooo then carlos, who values for family more than anything in the world, spends christmas day just only half paying attention to things going on and thinking jesus, what did i do. and his sisters are like, hermano, please just. get it together and sort this out if you care so much. we'll be fine with mamá and papá and piñón okay there's roast ham for days. and his ma is like: "if you are visiting someone at least pack some dessert. where are your manners". and carlos is like "what". and his mum is like: "did i not teach you anything at all. are you or are you not a sainz". so carlos just takes his tiramisu and his sister's teasing and. he goes. might even try to pull a favour from a client to use a private jet and get there in time.
he flies back to the city in a fit of possible stupidity to try and clarify... his feelings for oscar his professional record and integrity.
and then. oscar is. actually HAPPY he is there.
(carlos knows he's happy, not because oscar's face changes. but because oscar puts his actual plant shears down in order to talk to him. which in oscar-world is a very big deal really. before, oscar always used to look like he wanted to stab carlos with a pen when carlos spoke to him. and if carlos were truly honest with himself, and hindsight being 50/50, well– he'd say that actually, the times oscar looked like he wanted to stab him were actually some of the moments he felt most alive.)
and the rest is... well.
you know how it ends.
#carcar#so. confession: i wasn't actually sure about carlos's POV for this fic at all. tho i knew he was an active participant obviously#and to be honest i went with oscar's POV for efficiency since i was working towards finishing it by the 31st#but this might just be the bones of it.#also i have not ever written carlos's POV before 👀 so this is a first!!#will i write this snippet out in full? idk? maybe not? but. here you go for now for like the 2 or 3 people who were interested#[in theory] fic#i typed this while procrastinating at work and somehow it's now... 900 words
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y/n: you like me???? for my personality????
zoro: yeah, i was surprised too
#one piece#opla#one piece live action#one piece x reader#opla x reader#roronoa zoro x reader#zoro x reader#might actually write a full fic about this maybe.... need to think about it ajsjsjjfjfj#incorrect quotes
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guys. guys listen.
if you wanna write and/or post a fanfic but are worried that no one will like it.
do not be worried. at all.
because even if no one else is interested, YOU are. you enjoy this idea. you're passionate about this concept. you should write for YOU, not for potential critics.
and even besides that, i guarantee you that there's at least 1 other person out there who would also enjoy your fic. it's essentially statistically impossible for you to be the only person on the planet who thinks the way you do, and enjoys the themes and ideas and characters and settings that you do.
write it. post it. take pride in the fact that you created something that you value. your fic exists, and that in of itself is amazing.
antis dni, this isn't about you or the graphic threats of harm you send to real people whom you dislike. get a real hobby.
proship/comship/profiction/etc. safe!
#scary crane rambles#let's get serious#not fandom#proship#proshippers please interact#anti-anti#anti anti#antis dni#honestly im writing this for myself just as much as im writing it for other people#i have so many fic ideas that would bring so many new ideas to the metaphorical fandom table#but im so worried to post them because. my blorbo (who most of these ideas center around) is. kinda overlooked by the fandom?#not very well liked so to speak... and also much of them are ✨️darkfic✨️ and the fandoms im in are FULL of antis#but yknow what if it means that i get to put something in the world that didnt exist before#and it means i might get to bond with other people who enjoy the same ideas that i do#then its absolutely worth it#and if youre in the same boat then i think its worth it for you to post your thing too
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cleaned up everyrine's sprite and made some cathys 🕊💜...
+ bonus because i like playing with dolls
#bell.txt#limbus company#catherine lcb#catherine limbus#heathcathy#shi x devyat is something i was brainstorming with soul a while ago... i'll write it when i can#u may know ring x middle duo from psalms and u might know seven cathy from hit fic h(i am dragged out before i can promote That in public)#shades art#it countssss#i also had another but its a little lame cuz it was a generic so it came out really tiny so maybe another time#also wow middle was HELL to edit might post full l8r cuz hell i didnt do all that for nothing#sprite edits#patches of violet
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