#say home stay safe

[bluerosefox]

Hmmmm... This one and this one I guess -digs through old AU/Prompts ideas and starts tossing them into a melting pot to make something new-

Royal errors, maybe Ghost King (Or just very powerful and respected by the Infinite Realms) Danny, AND deaged Dan and Ellie. With half-sibling Damian.

Talia is a woman with many, many secrets, this is a cold hard fact.

She has so many secrets its no wonder not a single living soul knows them all...

So when seventeen, almost eighteen, Damian really shouldn't had been surprised (he was though) when out of the blue he gets a call from an unknown number that somehow bypasses his firewalls against unknown numbers about his apparent five year old half-sister and brother Helen 'Ellie' Fenton and Dante 'Dan' Fenton.

That their father, Daniel Fenton was taken (by a shady should had been disbanded government agency) and they couldn't get a hold of their mother Talia at all (she was in a middle of stopping a coup happening, a rival assassin group, AND some idiots trying to revive Ra's at the same time, thus radio silent). About how Ellie and Dan were in danger of being taken as well but they needed to put in them a safe place so they could go rescue Danny before word gets out to... well lets just say some very POWERFUL beings weren't going to be happy and they are working on very limited time to get him back.

Jasmine Fenton tells him she knows he had no clue about his mother being with her brother and having kids with him, its something she and Talia often got into small arguments about but try not to bring it up to often around Danny, Dan, or Ellie, and that his relationship with her is often... rocky but she begs him to please watch over them while she, and her brother's best friends go a rescue mission for him.

That they were two very scared five year olds that had to watch their father be taken away after he barely managed to get them to safety and that Damian was the only one she could think of being able to watch over and least protect them at this serious moment.

Damian, and the rest of the family, are stunned silent when Jasmine finishes explaining, her voice on the verge of breaking and no doubt she was trying so hard not to sob.

[splinterclan]

surely whorlstar would let the kits see their mom??? why are they having to sneak around?

Kinda spoilers bc I'm gonna explain my reasoning behind this storyline

Main reasoning right now is that Bess has refused to join/stay near the clan and Whorlstar obv wouldn't want the kits leaving camp (esp with the Eagle attacks and other dangers). Not that she's been asked - Cedarheart hasn't spoken to her about the kits' mother since he brought them to the clan.

For her original reasons as well - Bess is living outside of clan life/the Warrior Code. She could turn her kits against Splinterclan's rules - like if she had rogue friends who wanted to hunt on Splinter territory, would she turn her kits against the clan and allow that to happen? Would she just get them to steal prey for her? Or herbs? What about just letting any rogue onto the territory who says they know her? Would a clanmate die because of a resource that was put to use outside the clan? Would the weakening of clan loyalty in some members cause the clan to fall to an attack? What if Bess got sick and that outside illness spread through the clan bc she wasn't quarantined?

It'd be wholly different if Bess was a known cat - if she had come to introduce herself to the clan and joined. But she didn't! And now Cedar is compounding that issue/worry by having his kids and himself sneak around and lie. When/if this comes out, I'm sure it won't end well.

[ohbo-ohno]

if the 1k game is still open, I’d like to throw in my two cents!

Ghost (or Ghoap) with Forest and Only (allotted amount of time) to escape before (bad thing happens)

I’m sure there’s plenty of ways to go with that!~ please take your time and remember to drink water today!!!!!

~🦋

1k game here - no more please!

i will drink water just for you babe. also i did ghoap x reader & forest & trying to escape, but ended up not including an allotted amount of time, hope that's alright!

1.5k of ghost watching soap and reader run from him during a zombie apolocypse. except the apolocypse is really more of a background thing and i just throw in mentions of zombies. no smut! (cw for a very brief mention of cannibalism, a sprained then broken ankle, kidnapping, and very light puppyplay at the end)

"You fucking idiot, Johnny," you hiss. "You're gonna get us killed!"

"Me?" He snarls, whirling around to glare at you, hackles raised. "You're fuckin' shoutin' like you want the bastard to find us!"

"Shhh! Could you be any louder?!"

"You goddamned feartie, I hope he kills you first!"

"What the fuck did you just call me?!"

Ghost just barely manages to bite back a laugh at your offended tone, the way you're nearly spitting at Johnny, even at nearly a foot shorter than him. It's like watching a kitten try and fight a dog - cute, but you know the dog could crush the kitten if things went a little too far.

But Simon doesn't mind watching you hiss and spit at Johnny, certainly doesn't see a need to step in any time soon.

He hadn't expected to find much more than a few corpses when the motion sensor around his property triggered an alarm in his base. He figured it was probably a few zombies, easy enough to deal with.

But then he spotted the two of you - a big Scotsman and his far smaller girl, bickering playfully and totally unaware of him in the shadows.

Originally he'd planned to kill the two of you. He's got enough food stored to make it through the winter, so he wouldn't have to bother with freezing your bodies for later. It would be almost comically easy to kill you, take a couple shots from far enough away that you'd never see them coming, drag your bodies off his property, and forget all about you.

But then Johnny - who's name he only knows because you use it frequently - had spotted him. And wasn't that interesting? It's been a long time since someone managed to spot Ghost while he was trailing them.

He'd noticed Johnny's injury soon after that. The two of you had taken off running - he's not sure why, but apparently you haven't had the best experience with strangers - and Johnny had limped beside you, his right ankle clearly giving him trouble.

That was near sunrise. Now, there's an hour or two before the sunsets.

Simon would like to have the two of you in his base before night falls. No point in risking losing one of you to a zombie, not when you're already vulnerable.

He's been herding the two of you in the right direction since about noon. The two of you had picked the right direction to run, almost making it fully out of Ghost's territory before he started redirecting you. It was easy to land a few shots in the dirt in front of you, send the pair of you scrambling in another direction.

You're closer to his base than either of you realize. Ghost's muscles twitch at the realization, the thought of having the two of you locked up fueling his adrenaline.

He already knows you'll both put up a good fight. He can't wait to see which one of you gives in first. He thinks it might be Johnny, can already picture the man being good after seeing how Ghost might treat you.

He tunes back into your argument as the land becomes more familiar, unable to resist smirking as he sees the path that Johnny's about to walk.

"I told you we should've been more on the lookout for other people."

"Don't even start! Ye know as well as me that the bastard came out of nowhere, don't act like we woulda seen him anyway."

"Well, now we'll never know."

"Exactly! So why're you still naggin' me about it?"

"Oh, really, I'm nagging? Really, Johnny?"

"Yes! What, you think saying it twice makes it less true?"

"Oh, fuck you, honestly, I don't even know why I bother helping you."

Johnny laughs, loud and very obviously fake. "You're helpin' me? Oh, now you've really lost it, lass. I've been dragging dead weight since this whole thing started! You know, I'm getting awful tired of-"

Johnny's just a few steps away, make that final little stretch as he talks, and Ghost holds his breath, waits....

Bam. Before he can finish his complaint, he's yanked into the air. His bad ankle is wrapped up tight in rope, a trap tugging that leg into the air and leaving his torso resting on the ground.

He grunts loudly, though not as loudly as Ghost had expected with his injury.

"Holy shit!" You nearly shout, rushing to Johnny's side and abandoning your argument. "Fuck, are you alright?"

The Scot makes a half-wheezed sound of affirmation, eyes squeezed shut.

"Fuck, alright, don't move. I'll get you out, alright?"

Before you can figure out how to make that happen, Simon steps out of the treeline. You catch sight of him immediately, eyes going wide as you clearly fight the urge to run and abandon your partner. You just barely manage to stop yourself, shifting into what looks like it's meant to be a defensive possession.

Ghost tilts his head, smirks behind the mask. "Where do you think you're goin'?"

Johnny's face is twisted in pain, leaving you to respond. "We don't mean any harm, alright? Just... just let me get him down, and we'll go."

Simon slings his rifle off his back, holds it casually in his arms. The way your hands twitch, the panic streaking across Johnny's expression... fuck, it gets him hard.

"Why would I let you do that?"

There's a little furrow between your brows, and Johnny starts to really squirm in is bindings.

"We won't tell anyone about you," you try, inching around Johnny's prone form. "Promise. You let us go, you'll never have to see us again."

That, Simon thinks, is the problem.

He hauls his gun up, takes quick aim, and shoots the rope tying Johnny up before either of you can properly panic. You both still scream when the branch falls, clattering to the ground on top of Johnny.

You're quick to help him up, your argument apparently entirely forgotten as you let him lean most of his body weight on your shoulders.

Ghost slings the gun back over his shoulder, pulling a length of rope out of his pocket. "Both of you, on your knees. Hands behind your heads, eyes closed."

"Oy." Johnny tries to move in front of you, but his now mangled ankle has to be kept completely off the ground for him to even stay standing. "You can't... we'll go, like she said. Promise, mate."

"Knees."

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed neither of you put up even a bit of fight. But he doesn't complain as he watches you fall to the ground first, letting Johnny use you to help himself.

"Good," Simon hums when you both settle, forms stiff but in the correct position. "Either one of you even twitches, I'll break your legs and leave you for the zombies."

You both shudder at that, and Ghost feels his cock throb in his jeans. He adjusts himself, then steps forward with the rope.

He's quick, not giving either of you time to properly react. You both get a matching loop of rough rope tied around your necks, just tight enough that the skin is already rubbed a bit raw, just from the initial tie.

"Don't move," Simon growls when Johnny jerks away, gripping the man's wrists and tugging them in front of him. "You want to die out here? Watch your little girlfriend get eaten alive?"

He flushes, teeth gritted in what's probably a mix of rage and pain. Sweat drips down his face, streaking through the filth. "She's not my girl."

"Johnny," you hiss, shifting restlessly on your knees. "Seriously?"

"What? Yer not."

"Is that really what you want to be focusing on right now?"

"Oh, would ye rather talk about the goddamn collar and leashes the bastard's given us?"

Ghost gives said leash a rough tug for that, finishing off the loops around Johnny's wrist and moving in front of you. "The bastard's right here."

You sit still, eyes still closed and limbs loose as you let him move your arms around. Johnny's the one who starts squirming, scowl deepening. "Really? Couldnae tell."

"Lotta sass from a man wearing a leash." Ghost yanks it again, nearly sending Johnny sprawling to the ground. He just manages to catch himself on his bound hands, and Simon finishes off yours.

He steps back, holding the length of rope stretching from your necks in one hand. He tugs solidly, smirks when you both stand as quickly as you can. "Up, now. Time to go home."

He doesn't spare either of you a glance, turning around and starting the rest of the journey home. He shows a bit of kindness, keep his pace slow since he can hear the way Johnny's breathing grows more ragged, hear his limp against the dead leaves.

Neither of you tug or try to run away, and Ghost can't help but smile at the obedience. He mentally crosses leash training off his to-do list. He had been looking forward to that one, but he's sure there'll be plenty of other interesting experiences with the two of you.

He's never trained two pets at once. He can't wait to see how it goes.

[cent-scratchnsniff]

irrational anxiety and the need for repetition

[fusionsprunt]

Hunter what the FUCK-

.

[fighting-these-demons]

K*s*hu Family New Years in the M/K Toxic College AU

[pergaminaa]

Modern au:

When Dorian started dating Manon, he was able to see a few things in her that made him suspect something was off. At that point, he was able to see the pressure her grandmother put her under and he felt helpless in the face of that kind of thing.

Manon was really going out of her way to make sure everything is perfect and yet her grandmother kept scrutinizing her.

At formal events, he got to see that first hand. Manon would be super stressed, it would get worse about 2-3 days prior where her anxiety is at it’s peak; she won’t be able to sleep, and can’t keep anything down.

Dorian can see all of her effort and yet her grandmother’s responses are a variety of

“Don’t embarrass me,”

“What a disgrace,”

“This is worthless,”

And it really angers him.

But that was nothing compared to what he saw when they moved in together.

Prior to that, Manon was able to maintain her mask of aloofness and perfection. It was only when they lived together than Dorian saw how she struggles with insecurity and abandonment issues.

He learned of the long months she’d spend at boarding school, her grandmother wouldn’t allow her to return home if her grades are anything below a 100%. She’d call her an embarrassment and let her spend the holidays studying and making up for those grades.

He also saw how she struggles with boundaries sometimes. Moreover, he noticed that she instantly panics whenever she thinks that she made a mistake. Like forgetting her jacket on the counter, or leaving some of her work behind on the coffee table.

Dorian hates hates hates how her grandmother turned her into this person. She honestly believes that as soon as she commits the tiniest mistake, Dorian is going to leave and find someone better. He told her time and again that he doesn’t want anyone else, better or worse. He wants only her and nothing will ever change that.

But of course, his reassurance does nothing to elevate those issues that have been there for two decades. All he can is promise to always be there, that no matter what happens he isn’t going to leave or find someone else.

Now another issue is their families. They attend the same social circles and their families no each other. Chaol is against their relationship because he wants someone other than a Blackbeak to be with his friend. Aelin doesn’t care much, she tries to get along with Manon but the two of them don’t spend any time together to have any sort of relationship.

Then there are his parents; Georgina wants to pick her son’s lifelong partner. The fact that he’s with the Blackbeak heir infuriates her to no end.

Now normally he would ignore everyone and does as he pleases. However, now that he lives with Manon and knows exactly how vulnerable she is, he had a meeting with his parents and Chaol.

He sat them all down, and told them in no certain terms that if he brings Manon over for a visit, if any one of them make her feel unwanted, he’d get her out of there immediately and never return back there.

Dorian is serious, she’s been though enough and he sees how she struggles. That the perfectly put up woman is hiding a lot of things underneath and he hates how he can’t shoulder some of those things. All he can do is love her through it all and hope that one day it will be enough.

[pup-pee]

my father telling me how scared he was when i ran away from the house but i cant express how scared i was 2 b in the house

hey, whats up w/that?

[rumiracle-whip]

I know that realistically William kept in contact with his family during the timeskip but like...what if he didn't?

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

WHY CANT MY BRAIN BE FUCKING NORMAL

[dark-twist-fairytales]

staring at some old posts like 'i have regrets'.

[acourtofquestions]

She had not trusted this world, this dream.

The companions who had walked with her, led her here.

The warrior-prince with pine-green eyes and who smelled of Terrasen.

Him, she had not dared to believe at all. Not the words he spoke, but the mere fact that he was there. She did not trust that he'd removed the mask, the irons. They had vanished in other dreams, too—dreams that had proved false.

But the Little Folk had told her it was true. All of this. They had said it was safe, and she was to rest, and they would look after her.

And that terrible, relentless pressure writhing in her veins—it had eased. Just enough to think, to breathe and act beyond pure instinct. She'd siphoned off as much as she dared, but not all. Certainly not all.

So she had slept. She'd done that, too, in those other dreams. Had lived through days and weeks of stories that then washed away like footprints in the sand.

Yet when she opened her eyes, the cave remained, dimmer now. The thrumming power had nestled deeper, slumbering. The ache in her ribs had faded, the slice down her forearm had healed—but the scab remained.

The only mark on her.

Aelin prodded it with a finger. Dull pain echoed in response. Smooth—not the scab, but her finger. Smooth like glass as she rubbed the pads of her thumb and forefinger together. No calluses. Not on her fingers, on her palms. Utterly blank, wiped of the imprint from the years of training, or the year in Endovier. But this new scab, this faint throbbing beneath it—that remained, at least.

Curled on the rock floor, she took in the cave. The white wolf lay at her back, snoring softly. Their sphere of transparent flame still burned around them, easing the strain ember by ember. But not wholly.

Aelin swallowed, tasting ash. Her magic opened an eye in response. Aelin sucked in a breath. Not here not yet. She whispered it to the flame. Not yet.

But the flame around her and the wolf flared and thickened, blotting out the cave. She clenched her jaw.

Not yet, she promised it. Not until it could be done safely. Away from them.

Her magic pushed against her bones, but she ignored it. Leashed it. The bubble of flame shrunk, protesting, and grew transparent once more. Through it she could make out a water-carved basin, the slumbering forms of her other companions.

The warrior-prince slept only a few feet from the edge of her fire, tucked into an alcove in the cave wall. Exhaustion lay heavy upon him, though he had not disarmed himself.

A sword hung from his belt, its ruby smoldering in the light of her fire.

She knew that sword. An ancient sword, forged in these lands for a deadly war. It had been her sword, too. Those erased calluses had fit its hilt so perfectly. And the warrior-prince now bearing it had found the sword for her. In a cave like this one, full of the relics of heroes long since sent to the Afterworld.

She studied the tattoo snaking down the side of his face and neck, vanishing into his dark clothes.

I am your mate.

She had wanted to believe him, but this dream, this illusion she'd been spun ... Not an illusion.

He had come for her.

Rowan.

Rowan Whitethorn.

Now Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, her husband and king-consort. Her mate.

She mouthed his name.

He had come for her.

Rowan.

Silently, so smoothly that not even the white wolf awoke, she sat up, a hand clutching the cloak that smelled of pine and snow. His cloak, his scent woven through the fibers. She rose to her feet, legs sturdier than they'd been. A thought had the bubble of flame expanding as she crossed the few feet toward the sleeping prince.

She peered down at his face, handsome and yet unyielding.

His eyes opened, meeting hers as if he'd known where to find her even in sleep.

An unspoken question arose in those green eyes. Aelin?

She ignored the silent inquiry, unable bear opening that silent channel between them again, and surveyed the powerful lines of his body, the sheer size of him. A gentle wind kissed with ice and lightning brushed against her wall of flame, an echo of his silent inquiry.

Her magic flared in answer, a ripple of power dancing through her.

As if it had found a mirror of itself in the world, as if it had found the countermelody to its own song.

Not once in those illusions or dreams had it done that. Had her own flame leaped in joy at his nearness, his power.

He was here. It was him, and he'd come for her.

The flame melted into nothing but cool cave air. Not melted, but rather sucked inside herself, coiling, a great beast straining at the leash.

Rowan. Prince Rowan.

He sat up slowly, a stillness settling over him.

He knew. He'd said it to her earlier, before she'd let oblivion claim her. I am your mate.

They must have told him, then. Their companions. Elide and Lorcan and Gavriel.

They'd all been on that beach where everything had gone to hell.

Her magic surged, and she rolled her shoulders, willing it to sleep, to wait-just a while longer.

She was here. They were both here.

What could she ever say to him, to explain it, to make it right? That he'd been used so foully, had suffered so greatly, because of her?

There was blood on him. So much blood, soaking into his dark clothes. From the smears on his neck, the arcs under his fingernails, it seemed he'd tried to wash some off. But the scent remained.

She knew that smell—who it belonged to.

Her spine tightened, her limbs tensing. Working past her clenched jaw, she inhaled sharply. Forced a long breath out through her teeth. Forced herself to work past the scent of Cairn's blood. What it did to her. Her magic thrashed, howling.

And she made herself say to him, to her prince who smelled of home, "Is he alive?"

Cold rage flickered across Rowan's eyes.

"No."

Dead. Cairn was dead. The tautness in her body eased-just slightly. Her flame, too, banked. "How?"

No remorse dimmed his face. "You once told me at Mistward that if I ever took a whip to you, then you'd skin me alive." His eyes didn't stray from hers as he said with lethal quiet, "I took it upon myself to bestow that fate on Cairn on your behalf. And when I was done, I took the liberty of removing his head from his body, then burning what remained." A pause, a ripple of doubt. "I'm sorry I didn't give you the chance to do it yourself."

She didn't have it in her to feel a spark of surprise, to marvel at the brutality of the vengeance he'd exacted. Not as the words sank in. Not as her lungs opened up once again.

"I couldn't risk bringing him here for you to kill," Rowan went on, scanning her face. "Or risk leaving him alive, either."

She lifted her palms, studying the unmarked, empty skin.

Cairn had done that.

Had shredded her apart so badly they needed to put her back together again. Had wiped away all traces of who and what she'd been, what she'd seen and endured.

She lowered her hands to her sides. "I'm glad," she said, and the words were true.

A shudder went through Rowan, and his head dipped slightly. "Are you..." He seemed to grapple with the right word. "Can I hold you?"

The stark need in his voice ripped at her, but she stepped back. "I ..." She scanned the cave, blocking out the way his eyes guttered at her retreat. Across the chamber, the great lake flowed, smooth and flat as a black mirror. "I need to bathe," she said, her voice low and raw. Even if there wasn't a mark on her beyond dirty feet. "I need to wash it away," she tried again.

Understanding softened his eyes. He pointed with a tattooed hand to the trough nearby. "There are a few extra cloths for you to wash with." Dragging a hand through his silver hair, longer than she'd last seen it—in this world, this truth, at least—he added, "I don't know how, but they also found some of your old clothes from Mistward and brought them here." But words were becoming distant again, dissolving on her tongue.

Her magic rumbled, pressing against her blood, I, squeezing her bones. Out, it howled. Out.

Soon, she promised.

Now. It thrashed. Her hands trembled, curling, as if she could keep it in.

So she turned away, aiming not toward the trough but the lake beyond.

The air stirred behind her, and she felt him following. When Rowan gleaned where she intended to bathe, he warned, "That water is barely above freezing, Aelin."

She just dropped the cloak onto the black stones and stepped into the water.

Steam hissed, wafting around her in billowing clouds. She kept going, embracing the water's bite with each step, even if it failed to pierce the heat of her.

The water was clear, though the gloom veiled the bottom that sloped away as she dove under the frigid surface.

The water was silent. Cool, and welcome, and calm.

So Aelin loosened the leash—only a fraction. Flame leapt out, devoured by the frigid water. Consumed by it. It pulled away that pressure, that endless fog of heat. Soothed and chilled until thoughts took form. With each stroke beneath the surface, out into the darkness, she could feel it again. Herself. Or whatever was left of it.

Aelin. She was Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, and she was Queen of Terrasen.

More magic rippled out, but she held her grip. Not all-not yet.

She had been captured by Maeve, tortured by her. Tortured by Cairn, her sentinel. But she had escaped, and her mate had come for her. Had found her, just as they had found each other despite centuries of bloodshed and loss and war.

Aelin. She was Aelin, and this was not some illusion, but the real world.

Aelin.

She swam out into the lake, and Rowan followed the jutting lip of stone along the shore's edge. She dropped beneath the surface, letting herself sink and sink and sink, toes grasping only open, cool water, straining for a bottom that did not arrive.

Down into the dark, the cold.

The ancient, icy water pulled away the flame and heat and strain. Pulled and sucked and waved it off.

Cooled that burning core of her until she took form, a blade red-hot from the fire plunged into water.

Aelin. That's who she was.

[vanweezer]

being extroverted must be awesome imagine feeling nothing after telling someone "wow youre REALLY quiet". im going to talk less around you now 🫶

[sh1-n0bu]

last night around 1am, a truck carrying gas exploded due to another car coming in from the side and hitting the truck. a lot of damage had been caused and several explosions took place. and that’s only 24 days into 2024

[gmod]

[yuukimiyas]

g’mornie friends in my phone & in my heart! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა happy thurs & happy 4th of july to those to celebrate!! pls remember to be SAFE & to be so careful!! <33 i’m passin out lil sparklers to everyone in the city!! (っ ॑꒳ ॑c) —˖ ࣪⊹ make sure you all line up to get one!! <33