#this was a good like vent/grounding drawing

[feather-bone]

[ID: a digital illustration of a deer blowing swirly smoke-like breath upward, a wolf chewing a bone to its right, and a crow flying above. The background is swirly dark blue and grey. End]

COLD BREATH

[oceanwithouthermoon]

yumehara and kuboyasu both write in a diary but yumeharas is lovingly and carefully decorated with adorable stickers and she writes in beautiful frilly handwriting with glitter pens (her handwriting actually sucks but she spends hours making this diary look pretty) while kuboyasus is filled with messy vent writing, ripped pages, and messy doodles, and the cover is fingerpainted on

[bywons]

PULLING YOU ON THEIR LAP 𖥔 ENHYPEN

𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬──── 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗋

❪ 𝑃𝑅𝐸𝐶𝑖𝑆 �� ｡ 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋 992wc 𖥔 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 ── 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 愛 ／ 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

する ܃ dedicated to @.jenni cause she gave the idea for jw’s hc and then BOOM ot7 hc :0

reb𝑙ogs& ˊᗜˋ 𝑓eedbacks

LEE HEESEUNG

“do i really look good in this dress?” you pout, mindlessly monitoring yourself in front of the mirror.

“i feel like—” before you can even finish your sentence, your loving boyfriend, lee heeseung, pulls you on his lap. you land on his lap with a soft gasp, your hands automatically flying to his chest. as soon as you take in heeseung’s expression towards you, you feel heat rush to your cheeks and tips of your ear.

his infamous doe eyes lock onto yours, brimming with adoration as he quickly takes in all of you through his lovesick eyes. heeseung leans closer, his lips curling into a playful smirk as he rests his chin on your shoulder. his hands find their way to your waist, holding you firmly yet gently as if you might slip away at any moment.

“you feel like what, babe?” he whispers, teasing, “like you're the prettiest girl in the world? if so, then i agree.”

PARK JONGSEONG

your restlessness doesn't go unnoticed by your boyfriend, as you pace around the room, venting about your day.

meanwhile jay feels concerned by the minute, he wants to share your pain, your thoughts. so without a word, he reaches out and catches your wrist, gently tugging you toward him. before you can react, he pulls you onto his lap, his arms encircling your waist with a quiet possessiveness.

“jay—” “shh,” he shushes you down, before creeping his hands up against your back, tracing little circles and shapes to calm you down, while the other hand holds you in place, resting along your waist. jay leans in, pressing a soft kiss on the side of your neck which makes your breath hitch.

“you don’t always have to fight everything on your own,” he whispers, his tone laced with affection. he pushes your head against his warm chest. “lean on me, baby. i’ll always be here for you.”

SIM JAEYUN

jake whines, sighs heavily as he watches you scroll down your phone for the past hour now, and the longer he waits the more he wants to snatch you away from it. and so he does.

without a word he grabs your hand and pulls you on his lap. “jake what—” before you can even say anything, he wraps himself around you like a koala, face buried deep in your neck and hands snaking around your waist.

“jake! what are you doing?” you protest, your cheeks heating up.

“just wanted you closer,” he says simply, mumbling against your neck. his hands settle around you, his thumbs drawing lazy circles.

“you look cute you're flustered,” he giggles as you say that, he can't deny that it's completely true.

PARK SUNGHOON

a lazy afternoon, you fold your laundry while humming to yourself. when you suddenly feel gentle hands wrapping around your abdomen, and before you can react you land squarely on sunghoons lap.

“‘hoon!” you gasp sweetly, before turning towards him, taking a glance of his beautiful face, “are you feeling extra romantic, maybe?”

“how’d you know?” he mumbles, kissing your shoulders before resting his chin there, swaying the both of you side to side. he holds your tighter as if you’d slip away. sunghoons embrace brings you comfort and warmth, as he giggles into your ear with sweet nothings. just the two of you this mellow afternoon.

you lean back against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you.

“you’re beautiful like this,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “stay with me a little longer.”

KIM SUNOO

you're play arguing with your boyfriend sunoo— a serious topic on who likes mint chocolate more, your teasing words earning exaggerated sighs and pouts from him.

just as you laugh at his reaction, with surprising great strength, sunoo grabs your wrist and hauls you towards him. with a gasp, your head rests over his shoulders, with you on his lap.

“okay, that’s enough,” he says with a dramatic huff, his arms locking around your waist to keep you in place. “i win.

your blink up at him, momentarily surprised at the sudden closeness and warmth from him. his touch is warm and loving, except his eyes which look down on you with a hint of playfulness and possession. he smirks, finally lighting your heart on fire.

“sunoo—!” “nope, nope. you're staying right here,” he chuckles, before leaning down to whisper, “besides, you look the best on my lap, close to me.”

YANG JUNGWON

your jaw hangs low as you stare at your boyfriend like a hawk. so this was jungwon’s sweet surprise? going blonde?

“so? say something?” he sighs. he ruffles his newly dyed hair, his lips pulling into an awkward smile, as he sits on the couch. you don’t know whether to laugh, cry or swoon, so you stammer, “you..you look different.”

“different good or different bad?” he giggles, gently pulling you closer until you land on his lap, your silken hair falling upon his cheeks. “different good,” you whisper.

“very nice then,” he whispers back, pressing a soft kiss against your lips as he pulls you closer by your waist, “i plan on being blonde the rest of my life then.”

NISHIMURA RIKI

you've been teasing and your boyfriend riki relentlessly, giggling at his exaggerated groans of frustration. he rolls his eyes, pretending to be unbothered, but you know you’ve struck a nerve. just as you’re about to say something else, he abruptly grabs your wrist and tugs you onto his lap.

“quiet,” he says, leaning closer, his voice tinged with mock annoyance. his hands rest on your thighs, steadying you as his dark eyes meet yours, full of mischief and something deeper. “you’ve been teasing me all day. now it’s my turn.”

your breath hitches as his face inches closer, the proximity making your heart pound.

he wants to laugh at your expression, but instead he gives you a sweet kiss. “you're lucky that I like you,” he giggles.

© BYWONS, 2024 / do not copy or repost without permission . div ctto

taglist────open tags in the reblogs ! network tag. @/k-labels @k-films @k-nets CLICK ME

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Spooky season needs spooky stuff.. >:3

So can I request the digital circus cast (minus Caine)meeting a Child Spirit Y/n headcanons,who like Kinda possesed/went inside the game to find they’re killer for some reason? They are eerily quiet and like to stare but if talked to very sweet but quick to snap in distrust because..well trust is what got them killed in the first place? They’re a bit bloody..and a eyeball sometimes hangs out?? Like vhs horror stuff

Sorry I’m being so descriptive,I hope you are a nice day!

OOOoo yes time for more spooks!

Also I am having a nice night, thanks! (and I hope you are having a nice day/night too!)

......

Pomni

To make a long story short, you got murdered while wearing the headset, and that tethered your spirit to TADC.

As expected, you lost memories of who you were--except for the knowledge that someone killed you because you trusted them too much, and you believed the answers were inside this very game.

Your character ends up looking like a child's ghost costume: a white bedsheet stained in blood and one of your eyeballs occasionally wanting to pop from its socket.

Caine (who was very much bewildered at your arrival) declares that you're part of an "exclusive Halloween update" and changes up the tent and grounds to have more spooky flair.

But Pomni clearly wants no part of it, and she can tell you don't either.

You're clearly a kid who is (somehow) handling the situation of being stuck in this game better than her, yet when she tries asking you about it....all you do is stare back.

She swears she can hear static noises and whispers she can't decipher--all in all getting a...very creepy vibe from you.

Initially she decides to keep her distance, afraid you were secretly some virus or Abstraction underneath that sheet.

But that changes when you're walking by the rooms one night, and you pass by Pomni's door, hearing her quietly crying.

Although you weren't inclined to get close to anybody here, you were concerned. And since you weren't actually coded into the game, you didn't have to follow any of its rules--and that allowed you to enter her room without a key.

At first you scared the shit out of her, but after realizing it's you, she lets you sit beside her, eventually venting about how badly she missed her real home.

"Everyone keeps telling me "oh this place is so much better" or "get used to it"...but what if I don't wanna do that? I don't care if my old life was bad...I-I can't take anymore of this.." Her sobs grow louder. "I wanna wake up in my own bed knowing my real name!!"

"...I miss home, too," is all you say in response. Yet it's more than enough to calm her down.

For once, you're not trying to brush her off or force her to "cheer up" and accept her reality. You made her feel heard.

"Yeah..me, too....sh-should I thank you for agreeing..?" She sniffles, seeing your subtle nod, before you leave her be, not wanting to get too attached.

Ironically, she was able to sleep a little easier after talking to you.

Jax

From the get-go, he's gonna be real nosy and curious.

Since not even Caine himself expected your arrival and found out that you don't follow the "rules" like everyone else...Jax is gonna try his damnedest to understand you and see what makes you tick.

But he's gonna be disappointed quickly since you don't respond much to him (or anybody in general).

"So...ya like Halloween?"

"........"

"....thought so. Good talk, new kid."

You definitely act like a legit ghost--doing nothing but stare, move things around, and pop up unexpectedly.

Eventually, his curiosity leads to him visiting your room (which has no key), and he discovers many drawings on the walls.

Most depicting a dead person wearing a headset.

What he found most disturbing was a journal that contained his and the others' names..

From what he's gathering...you're suspecting one of them of murdering your real world-self.

But he doesn't get much time to ponder this as you show up, angry at him for intruding.

You make yourself look even bloodier and scarier, with both of your eyeballs hanging from their sockets and staring at him.

"Get out."

Those two simple words put the fear of god in him.

Jax runs out faster than a jackrabbit, colliding with Gangle in the process. Her comedy mask falls off again, but he catches it and looks at her.

"J-Jax..?" She realizes his fur is standing up on all ends, and he looks terrified....even more than he did after realizing the circus was his forever home.

But he just shoves the mask back into her hands and leaves without saying a word.

He never speaks of what he found in your room that day.

Kinger

He thought his eyes were weird...until you came along and periodically had to put your own eyeball back into its socket.

"It's good to know I'm not alone!" He nervously chuckles, only to be met with your eerie silence.

Sometime later, he suggests showing you his insect collection, and it does pique your interest.

You did love all things "creepy" and "crawly".

Yet you're adamant about going to his pillow fortress after he invites you.

It reminds you of the ones you used to build all the time, up until...

Fortunately, Kinger recognizes your reluctance and just brings one of his bug boxes to you so you can look at it.

He could infodump about the various critters for hours, with nothing but nods and quiet "mhms" from you, and he's happy.

In general, he doesn't mind your quiet personality.

Although you still sometimes jumpscare him unintentionally like Gangle often does.

Tbh he's a good father figure and recognizes that you're just a kid who got trapped in this game unfairly.

Even so, you try to keep your distance and looks at him suspiciously if he starts acting too nice.

He was quiet aloof, and you weren't sure how he would act on any given day.

Gangle

After accidentally spooking her (by simply existing in the same room as her), she breaks her comedy mask off.

But immediately she feels guilty for screaming and tries scrambling to fix it, hoping you weren't mad at her.

Yet all you do is stare, not looking angry or anything at all (it's hard for any of the performers to see your expression in general, aside from your hanging eye, but still).

Poor Gangle is just afraid you'd turn into a scarier version of yourself.

When she keeps cutting her ribbon fingers(?) on the ceramic pieces, you come over and clean it up for her, taking it away despite your own hands bleeding.

The implications that you were able to shed blood and nobody else were a little disturbing to her..but she's glad you're not offended by her screaming.

Although she wonders where you're going with her mask..

Later on, you knock on her door and present it fully fixed.

Except...it looks more Halloweenish with an evil smile painted on it, messily glued together.

'Oh god I hope this doesn't turn me evil or anything..' She thinks, putting on a smile as she takes it anyways.

Yet you remain where you are, staring and clearly waiting for her to try it on.

And so she does, and it turns her into a very chaotic Halloween lover, acting even more mischievous than Jax and allowing her to finally get her revenge for all his pranks.

In the end, you gain a decent friendship with her, subtly protecting her from Jax's bullying.

Ragatha

Seeing that you're so distant from the rest of the gang has her worried.

Some of them might consider your loose eyeball creepy, but she's not gonna judge you on that (besides, she's missing an eye altogether so she can't say much anyways).

Howeve,r she's the first to find out how strong your distrust of everyone is.

"[Y/n]? I don't think it's good to be isolating yourself like this. I know you hate being here and Caine's a weirdo..but...we're all in this together. You can trust us-"

"Don't." You warn, putting on a frightening display of anger that sends her tumbling to the ground, sending chills up her spine.

"Trust" became something you didn't take lightly, as the last time you put your trust in someone....you ended up dead, turning into a literal ghost in the machine (that was your gaming system).

Despite this, Ragatha doesn't run away.

Like Pomni, she understands that you're just a kid who's confused and lost.....and clearly had serious trust issues.

But she's determined to help you through that, even if you keep scaring everybody away.

She's got motherly instincts, and she hopes that in due time you'll learn to warm up to her.

Zooble

"A bedsheet worn as a costume? That's a classic."

She's seen weirder things during their time in the circus, so you don't faze her too much.

Only when you snap at Ragatha or somebody who was trying to be nice to you does she raise an eyebrow.

Honestly, they 100% understand that you just wanted to be alone sometimes, and she respects that.

It's suffocating trying to act all cheery and go along with every damn activity Caine tries to get everyone involved in (but lucky for you, he can't make you follow along).

Especially since she believes he made up that stupid "Halloween update" as lazy way to explain your sudden arrival.

The only time you do interact with Zooble is after she yanks Jax by his ears, and they hear this eerie-sounding giggle behind them.

When she turns around, you're just standing there motionless, staring at her.

Somehow, they just know you were smiling underneath that costume, which makes her smile, too.

"Maybe I should pull him out a hat next time, huh?" She jokes after letting him go, and you giggle once more as he hits the ground.

[bratphilia]

grasp (w. afton x reader)

request: "I don’t really have a coherent story (just some thots) but i’d kill for some sort of smuttyyy ficlet that has the reader who is very short as in 4 foot 10 and has petite features (just like me 😵‍💫) being picked up and slung over Matthew Lillard!William Afton’s shoulder 🥴🥴 Include reader being scared and trying to wriggle free??? (due to her seeing or knowing something she shouldn’t have about Raglan) and some name-calling like ‘little one’, ‘good girl’ & ‘atta girl’ 🤤 - 🧸"

note: hi nonniebear!! i'm sorry if this fic is a little rushed but i tried to stay true to what you requested! hope you enjoy and feel free to keep sending in more ideas :)

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader

tags: bondage, praise kink, fingering, squirting, begging

fuck. you're really in for it now. 

this yellowish, decaying rabbit stalks towards you, and there are four, sentient and bloodthirsty animatronics behind you. 

you're stuck. 

even worse, the rabbit came from the entrance, so if you were to try to make your escape that way there was a likelihood of you running into his knife.

"please," you find yourself pleading. "please don't kill me."

the rabbit laughs menacingly and bends down to your level. "how about this? i'll give you a head start." 

without any further questions you bolt through the maze of halls and towards the office. you crouch down in front of the vent the rabbit was referring to and unscrew the bolts barricading it. thank god you're small enough to fit in the vents. this might actually work.

then you hear unmistakeable, thumping footsteps coming towards you. 

it only hurries your actions. your heart rate rapidly increases. the screws are so aged with rust that it's hard to—

the door opens with a loud thud. you scream at the noise, and again when you're being lifted off the ground. it's the yellow rabbit. 

it slings you over its shoulder with unmatched strength. you wail incoherent words and pleas as you pound the back of the suit with balled fists. 

"help me!" you scream out to no one. "somebody help!" 

the rabbit wordlessly carries you down the hall, to one of the locked doors you dared not to venture into during your shifts. it carried you down a couple stairs and then set you on a dentist-office-style chair. 

at this point tears are rolling down your face. eyes are shut in fear of looking your captor in the eyes. uncontrollable sobs escape your mouth, praying that these aren't your final moments. then the rabbit wraps both hands (paws?) around your wrists and holds them to the arm handles so that restraints can bolt around them. 

"oh, save it," he says, clearly annoyed with your crying. "i've heard it all before, you don't deserve to die, and all that."

your eyes shoot open. the rabbit's voice no longer sounds robotic and you realize you actually recognize it. 

in a very dramatic fashion, it's steve raglan. your career counsellor, a.k.a the man who got you this job in the first place. 

he almost looks ridiculous in the rabbit suit, which admittedly doesn't add much to his already sizeable frame, but you can't find the humor in the situation in which you could be seconds away from dying in. 

"why?" you find yourself asking, suddenly more curious than hysteric. "why give me this job if you were just going to kill me in the end?" 

"because you got a little too close to the truth, and for some reason, those brats up there were unable to take care of the job themselves," he snarls resentfully. he must be referencing the animatronics. it makes sense now— the kids in the drawings with the yellow rabbit on the wall. 

"it was you. you killed those kids."

steve gives you a horrible smile. one that almost makes you weak, with that dimple you recognize from many conversations in his office. "you finally figured it out."

he walks behind you, shuffling around in the suit, and you crane your neck around to see him taking it off. he's wearing a white tee and dark purple slacks. he's not particularly muscular, but not thin either. it's a build specific to middle aged men. you hate to admit it, but your face flushes when you notice how large his hands are. 

he catches you looking at him and smiles, cocking his head curiously. "see something you like, little night guard?" instantly you whip your head back around. your head is at a moral war with itself, with you being disappointed in yourself that you were actually checking out a child serial killer. 

but steve doesn't leave it alone. once he abandons the suit, he swiftly strides over you. he places both hands on your restraints, caging you in. you shrink into yourself. 

"i think," he says lowly, "i might have a different use for you, little one. one that we can both enjoy." 

you swallow, not saying anything. steve reaches a hand up to slide down your face then cup your jaw. his hands are cold to the touch and it sends shivers down your spine. 

you find your voice. "don't touch me."

"don't touch you? are you sure?" he says cockily and you can only glare at him in response. 

"what if i just..." he trails off, sliding the hands on his face down your neck, your chest, abdomen, and eventually your core. he presses his hand there hard, making you jolt upwards and whimper. "so you don't want me to touch you, is what i'm hearing?"

fuck. this undeniably hot serial killer has you at his disposal and you can't help but feel turned on. if you're going to die, and your chances really aren't looking good for you, maybe you should just...

"please," you murmur, closing your legs so they trap his hand there.

"please, what?"

you swallow. "please fuck me." 

"'atta girl." he grins from ear to ear. "y'know, all that begging you did earlier really did a number on me, but i must say i love this change of heart."

steve starts to undo the buttons of your slacks and begins to pull them down, leaving you bare in your underwear. it's at this point you realize how wet you are, and you try to relieve the tension in your core by squeezing your thighs together but he grabs your legs and presses them to your stomach. you're just so malleable to him.

he tugs off your panties and discards them mindlessly. "look at that," he marvels at your bare skin, "so pretty, little one."

you squirm against the restraints a little. at this point the anticipation will kill you faster than he will. you wish he would just touch you already, but you had to admit all his praises were only adding to your arousal.

steve decides to sit a little further down the chair and wordlessly plunges a finger inside your pussy. he goes deliberately slow, clearly gaging your reaction. "fuck," you mutter, and it takes all your strength to not buck your hips into his movements.

"you need this, don't you, sweet girl?" he muses, stopping the thrusting of his fingers, but still keeping them inside. "tell me."

"please, please, please..." tears coat your lashes from all the teasing. "'need it so bad."

he gives you a kind smile, one you haven't seen since you were back in his office. "good girls get what they ask for. "

steve slides in a second finger and begins to pump faster. it's an improvement but you find yourself needing more. you buck your hips up hoping he would get the message and he simply laughs lowly as he adds a third finger into the mix.

his pace gets progressively faster over time to your delight. the noises coming from your center is absolutely obscene. you can feel your juices dripping down onto the seat.

"ah — ah!" you cry out, feeling your orgasm nearing. "i'm coming — please, slow down—"

you squeeze your eyes shut. all the sudden the chair is abnormally wetter than you would have expected and— oh.

your face burns bright red. "i-i'm sorry..."

he's shocked, mouth agape and eyes slightly widened. then a wolfish grin spreads across his face. "don't you dare apologize, little one, let's try that again."

[gaybirdnerd]

How the 141 show love to each other

Ghost:

He sends Soap random pictures of flowers and stuff, the sunrise when he's up for it, or even a bumblebee he found resting on a flower. Knows how his coffee is made perfectly when it's homemade. Gives little forehead kisses when they're alone or with the 141 only. Will hook his ankle under Soap's feet and stay there for hours if necessary, anything to keep the contact.

He hands Gaz small things he likes, a particularly pretty leaf or a loose bolt he found on the ground. He also gives him samples of teas he thinks he'll like, makes sure to pay attention to if he needs a blanket.

He'll sit next to Price on a rough day and say nothing, just be a grounding presence. He'll save him his favorite foods from the mess hall and put them on his plate when Price comes and sits down.

He includes Laswell during team activities when possible, making sure she can take a call and face timing her so she can see the dumb shit that's happening, putting the phone in the best position to see the chaos. Sends her and her wife their favorite candies for holidays.

Soap:

Makes and fixes things for Ghost, sends him pictures of the stray cats he sees on his walks and while he's making his way around base. He knows Ghost's cafe coffee order by heart so he can order for him while they're in public. Cheek and nose kisses, likes to gently bite Ghost's cheek when they're alone, claims it's to "show dominance" but does it so softly that it just feels like a love nibble. Puts his hand under the mask at the back of Ghost's head and plays with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

Cuts Gaz's hair for him, Gaz once got a bad cut at the place he went to because they had a person who was new to styling do it hair so when he got mad about it back at base (not at the person, never at the person) Soap fixed it for him and made it better. Kicks his feet when he's nodding off in places he shouldn't be.

Steals Price's hat at least once a month to make sure nothing is falling off or tearing or ripped. During these inspections he'll add another bobble to the collection, something light and small to its unobtrusive. Draws little cute pictures and slips them in his vest pockets when he gets close enough.

Will send selfies and pictures of the group to Laswell, texting her a fun fact or a pun every day, telling a funny story about the recruits or what Gaz or Ghost or Price did that day too if there is one.

Gaz:

Gets Soap new drawing journals when he runs out, new pencils too. Gets him socks with dumb ass designs for Christmas and Halloween, the latter one because he thinks it's hilarious to give gifts then. Listens to and talks about special interests and really pays attention, even educating himself on aspects he doesn't know about.

He'll do the same thing for Ghost that Ghost does for Price. He'll sit next to him in silence and do his own thing while Ghost is having a bad time, waiting until he wants to speak. He learned sign language and taught Ghost so they could speak easier on days where his brain felt too heavy to conjure up the right syllables. Keeps every leaf Ghost gives him and puts them in a scrapbook with a date and location, shows Ghost after it's done.

Hugs Price almost religiously. He's Price's most common hugger, being the majority of where he gets his touch (platonic) so he's not touch starved. Will drag Price out of bed on a bad day since Price asked him to if he deems it an appropriate day to do so, will talk Price through boring paperwork and make it more fun so it goes faster.

While everyone else texts Laswell every day, he does every other day if that, leading to barely any exchanges but when there are some, they're meaningful to both of them. He's her vent partner, the person she goes to when she needs to complain about someone or something, he gives advice and is an overall good listener.

Price:

He gave Soap a fitbit once, something he won one time and never wore himself, he has the account linked on his phone so he can keep track of his heartbeat and sleeping habits, making sure he's getting enough rest and enough time to himself so he won't lose himself trying to be a people pleaser. He also gives him chocolates he knows Soap likes, orders them and stockpiles them for a bad day and then goes up to Soap and hands him a few wordlessly. Trying to silently tell him that he knows what he's going through and it's ok to break sometimes, to stop being strong sometimes.

When Ghost gives him his favorites from the mess, Price exchanges for Ghost's favorites. When he sees Ghost getting overwhelmed he tells him he needs to see him in his office and gets him out of the situation, handing him a blanket when he gets inside and telling him to lay down for a second because Ghost is so overwhelmed he's on the verge of giving himself a migraine.

He gives as good as he gets with physical contact with Gaz, hugging him just as hard, a hand on the back of his neck here and there to make sure he's emotionally balanced, fingers brushing his shoulder to remind him he's not alone. Will make sure he's having a good day or not based on how badly his hands shake. When Gaz gets too into his own head, he makes a game of giving Gaz his hat and telling him to play keep away with Ghost and Soap, knowing leading them into a game will help.

He sends cards and videos and pictures of anything and everything he can think of to Laswell, he's her second vent partner and will be the "beat his ass" version rather than understanding like Gaz. He shows he cares by being willing to burn the world for her and her wife and she appreciated it immensely when he jokes about taking her to a bar fight to let off some steam.

Laswell:

She doesn't like showing that she cares too much with physical things, so her care for Soap is mostly sending him tv show and movie recommendations.

She sends Ghost pictures of plants she found on the internet and what they're useful for. They have a "plant a day" thing where she has a whole list or book detailing various plants in alphabetical order and she picks one to send its information to him.

Give Gaz music recommendations and lets him vent back to her, she has a Spotify they share where they put random music on it if they like it.

Tells Price specific updates about her home life and how her wife is doing over the phone. Nothing too revealing but enough to make him feel like she truly trusts him.

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 17

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

As you crossed the threshold of the studio, your steps faltered. For a moment, you stood there, letting the noise from the street mix with the whirlwind of thoughts churning in your mind. Anger is like a poison, you thought, something that corrodes from the inside out, burning until there’s nothing left—except your eyes, fixed and brimming with a fury that felt almost supernatural.

He was a damned traitor. Selfish. Petty.

Nothing existed in Noah’s world except himself. And you knew it. You always had. The signs were there from the beginning, turning the breakup into a spectacle of egos you had neither the time nor interest to partake in.

But now, this? Giving an edge to the man you hated most? That was a blow below any imaginable line. Gerard got the songs, the notoriety, while you dragged yourselves to finish that cursed album. The thought made your throat tighten, your chest burn as if trapped in a furnace.

If you didn’t find a way to vent, you’d explode.

That’s when you saw Noah’s car. Parked there, gleaming under the dim evening light, like a silent provocation. In the passenger seat, the redhead from rehearsal—with her voluminous hair and crimson lipstick—was touching up her lips using the mirror. The scene lit something inside you, a fuse you hadn’t even known existed.

Your eyes landed on a metal rod propped against the nearby wall, used for clearing gutters. You looked at the rod. The rod seemed to look back, like a silent invitation. Before you realized it, your hands were on it.

You marched toward the car and knocked on the window. The girl jumped, her eyes wide.

“Get out of the car.” Your voice was sharp, a command that brooked no argument.

“What?” She blinked, confused.

“You must have hearing problems.” You yanked the handle, and to your luck, the door was unlocked. Without hesitation, you grabbed her wrist and dragged her out.

Your fingers tangled in her hair, drawing a shrill scream that cut through the air.

“No screaming!” you snarled, your gaze fixed on her. “If you keep going, I’ll drive this rod into your face.”

She struggled, but you were relentless. Each attempt to free herself only made you tighten your grip, the sound of her cries almost melodious to your ears.

“You’re insane! Noah was right about you!” she spat, her face flushed with fear and humiliation.

You let out a short, cold laugh. “And who said I care what Noah thinks?”

As you let her go, she crumpled to her knees on the ground, sobbing, but you no longer cared. Your attention was on the car.

The metal rod struck the windshield with a deafening crash. Shards flew in all directions, but you didn’t stop. You climbed onto the hood, the metal groaning under the weight of your boots as you destroyed everything in your path. Each strike was a release of rage, a confirmation that you still had control—if only over this.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” Noah’s voice cut through the air, desperate. He ran toward you but hesitated, his eyes wide at the destruction.

You lifted your head, your disheveled hair falling over part of your face, and smiled. “Take one more step, Noah, and I’ll do to your face what I did to this glass.”

He froze, his breath ragged, his face pale. To him, that car was everything—a trophy, a testament to his achievements. And now, destroyed before his eyes.

“GET THE HELL OFF MY CAR!” he shouted, his voice breaking between rage and despair. When he finally mustered the courage to approach, he yanked you down with force, pinning you against the car. You could feel his hot breath against your face, his hands trembling with fury.

You pressed your hands against his chest, trying to push him away, but he held firm, an unyielding wall. Still, you could feel the hesitation pulsing beneath his skin. His breath was uneven, and his eyes, which tried to stay locked on yours, trembled almost imperceptibly. There was something there—a volatile mix of hatred and a desire he fought to suppress.

He braced his hand against the car beside your face, leaning closer. You felt the heat of his presence, and even amidst the anger burning like acid, a part of you hated the effect he still had on you. “You made it a point to turn this into a game, Noah. But you forgot—I always win when it comes to making someone’s life a living hell!” you spat, your voice dripping with venom.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he needed a second to regain control. When he opened them again, the anger was still there, but something else had surfaced — a vulnerability you hadn't seen in a long time. He exhaled through his nose, a sound heavy with frustration.

“I never doubted that,” he murmured, his voice almost hoarse. “Just look at what you’ve done to my life.”

You narrowed your eyes, refusing to back down. “And what did I do, Noah? Tell me.” Your voice was a challenge, and you stepped forward, shrinking the space between you even further. “You can’t even name five things I’ve done against you because they don’t exist!”

He clenched his jaw, his eyes locked on yours. The tension between you seemed to electrify the air around you, suffocating and impossible to ignore. Noah’s breathing was quickened, as if he were struggling to hold himself back, but the anger — or perhaps something deeper — spilled into his movements.

“You want me to say it? Fine!” he shot back, his voice low and rough but as sharp as a blade. “You’ve invaded every corner of my life, turned everything into a war zone with your lies, made me sick, left me alone, and now you think you’re above it all? As if you’ve never done anything wrong?”

“I invaded your life?” you retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Noah, you dragged me into this in the blink of an eye without even asking for my permission or caring about the life I already had before you! Now you want to play the victim because I couldn’t live up to the expectations you created for me?”

“Because you weren’t like this…”

“I can only imagine how painful it must’ve been for you to carve off your own scraps to fit in somewhere. That’s the life of those who cross paths with messed-up people. If someone changed, that someone wasn’t me, Noah,” you shot back, anguish in your voice. “And this version of you will never be a fraction of the man I loved.”

He pressed his lips together, and for a brief moment, he looked lost, as if he wanted to scream but couldn’t find the words. The closeness between you was suffocating. Noah leaned his face slightly closer, his eyes burning into yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

“I hate you so much…” he murmured, but his voice faltered at the end, as if the truth had slipped through his teeth. “I hate you.”

“No…” you replied, almost in a whisper. His gaze flickered, wavering between anger and something you didn’t want to admit but couldn’t ignore.

Your chest was so close to his that you could feel the erratic rhythm of his heart against your palm. How it hurt to feel him so near and yet be unable to touch him, such was the force that seemed to repel him at the slightest attempt.

“Then why don’t you just end this?” you challenged, leaning even closer, the tension becoming almost unbearable. “You’ve got the chance in your hands and can rid yourself of me once and for all, yet you’re acting the opposite.”

For a moment, it seemed like he would give in, say something that would change everything. But instead, he nearly stepped back, only to move forward again and grab your chin with a final warning.

“I’d rather die than let you go, little storm.” Those words echoed in your mind like distant thunder. It had been over a year since you last heard them, and their impact was unexpected, like something small, almost insignificant, finding space to lodge itself in your chest. Something strange. Something you hated to admit you felt.

“You’re staying here, in my band, you’re going to live with me every day and endure this vicious cycle of making our lives hell. Consider this your punishment because you’re going to pay for everything!”

He took another step forward, but his advance was abruptly cut short. The sudden absence of his body’s warmth left a void that seemed to swallow the space around you. Jolly stepped between you, forcing Noah to retreat.

“That’s enough for today’s show,” Jolly grumbled impatiently, his voice firm but laden with exhaustion. “If you both put as much effort into performing on stage as you do into creating drama in public, we’d be rich by now.”

He pressed a hand to Noah’s shoulder, forcing him to step back further.

Meanwhile, your body reacted on instinct, and as you tried to steady yourself, your hand brushed against a shard of glass forgotten nearby. The pain was immediate, a deep cut that made you let out a low groan. Warm blood began to trickle down your skin, and you pressed your other hand to the wound, trying to stem the flow.

Noah noticed. You saw his rigid posture crumble slightly, his shoulders dropping as he tilted his head in your direction. He took a hesitant step forward but was stopped again by Jolly.

“I said that’s enough!” Jolly snapped, his voice reverberating through the air. The tone was something you had never heard before. He was at his limit.

“Get out of my way!” Noah snarled back, his eyes sparking with fury. In a swift motion, he lunged forward, moving toward Jolly like a predator about to strike.

“You definitely don’t want this discussion to escalate and become about us, do you?” he emphasized.

“I already told you not to get involved in matters that aren’t your business!”

“Interesting…” Jolly scoffed, a laugh shaking his shoulders. “It’s been a long time since this became everyone’s business, especially after it dragged the band into this mess!”

The two now faced each other, the air heavy with electricity, as if the smallest movement could trigger something irreparable. You watched, chest tight, blood still dripping through your fingers, unsure whether to intervene or let the chaos take over.

“I’ll take her home, and you’re going to clean up this mess!”

“ME?” Noah yelled, pointing at himself. “But…”

“Did you see me stutter?” Jolly shot him a single cold glance before turning his back. “Don’t think we’re not going to talk about this later.”

Finally, there was silence as the chaos subsided and the crowd dispersed. You watched Noah walk away, the red-haired girl chattering in his ear about what had happened. His eyes stayed on you until he crossed the street.

Throwing the keys onto the kitchen counter, you heard Jolly huff like an angry father rehearsing the right words to scold you without making you upset.

In the cupboard, you found the first aid kit and tossed it onto the sink. You washed your hands and pressed the wound with a cotton ball soaked in whatever would work for injuries, all the while feeling his disapproving gaze as he shook his head.

“One time, I joked with Ruffilo that you act as if you listen to all your intrusive thoughts. Looks like I wasn’t so wrong…”

You let out a chuckle, quickly stifling it when his expression remained serious. Jolly sat on the stool, leaning his elbow on the counter, while you leaned back against the sink. Your phone, resting on the marble countertop, started to vibrate, sending a chill down your spine. You kept your gaze on him as if nothing was happening.

“I stepped in during the fight and took your side, but that doesn’t mean I agree with what you did,” he pointed out.

“He provoked me, and I doubt you didn’t hear our argument in the studio or what he did to me…” you argued, dividing your attention between him and your vibrating phone. “Jolly, he’s messing with the band just out of spite!”

“We heard, and I promise we’ll figure out how to deal with this together while making sure to knock some sense into Noah along the way. But I’m talking about you!” he emphasized, pointing at you with his finger. Jolly frowned as your phone buzzed for the sixth time and grabbed it. “Damn, what the hell happened to your screen? I can’t even see who’s calling.”

A simple message saying “hi doll” was enough to short-circuit every functional part of your brain that day. You threw your phone against the wall, completely shattering the screen. That didn't stop the messages and calls. In fact, the gaps between them seemed to shorten every day, and the sound of your phone became enough to trigger heart palpitations.

You stayed silent, and he interpreted it however he chose.

“That’s exactly what worries me about you,” he said cautiously, spinning your phone between his fingers before setting it down on the counter. “You’ve been having frequent, increasingly intense outbursts. I know you hate us wasting time looking after you, just as I know you don’t need us to, since you’ve always preferred handling things on your own. But honestly, we’re tired of obeying you.”

“You’re right…” Your voice trembled more than usual, and your steps toward the counter felt hesitant. You clasped your hands and rested your face on them, digging your fingers into your hair as if squeezing your head could untangle your chaotic thoughts. “I’m under pressure, and I feel like they’re planning to drive me insane.”

Your breathing faltered, but now wasn’t the time for a breakdown—you needed to at least wait until he left. His next move took you by surprise: almost imperceptibly, he closed the gap between you and wrapped you in a hug. Warm and secure, he did everything he could to make you feel, even for a few seconds, like you weren’t alone.

You’d always had them.

“I have no idea what the hell is going on, but I want you to know your friends are always here. We always have been, and we always will be…” he assured. “Trust us the way we trust you.”

“You trust me?”

The question seemed silly as you pulled away from his hug and looked at him genuinely. Jolly smiled and just nodded his head.

“Of course.” He winked. “Now that I’ve gotten you home safely, I’m heading back to the studio to sort out a few more details for tomorrow’s video shoot. See you at rehearsal later?”

You just nodded, biting your lip as you realized he was referring to the video you’d been cut from. Jolly kissed the top of your head when one last question lit up your brain before he could leave.

“One dumb question, but where’s the video shoot?” Jolly turned as soon as the words left your lips, his eyes narrowing in your direction.

“Girl…”

“I promise I won’t cause any chaos,” you assured him, kissing your fingertips.

“I don’t know what you plan to do with that information, but we’re filming at Noah’s friend’s studio—the one who lent us the sound equipment for the last album. It’s a few miles from the main studio,” he revealed. “But only show up if you’re planning to do exactly what I’m thinking.”

Were you?

There was no way to know. Jolly was already gone, and you had made a decision.

After that conversation and a good shower, you set out determined to jog around the block. It wasn’t like you were a fan of physical exercise, but if running eased even half the mess in your mind, it might be worth a try.

The rhythmic sound of your steps against the asphalt echoed through the nearly deserted street. The night air was heavy, humid, and each breath felt like a struggle to stay focused. You’d been running for almost half an hour, your breathing quickening in sync with the energetic beat blasting through your headphones.

But something felt off.

The sensation hit first as a chill, a shiver running up your spine, leaving your skin tingling. You slowed down, removing one of the earbuds to listen to your surroundings. Then came the sound. Footsteps. Not the echo of your own, but a different rhythm, uneven, heavier.

For a moment, you tried to ignore it. Maybe it was just another jogger or someone heading home. But the sound persisted, matching your movements, too close to be coincidental.

Panic began to rise in your chest, tightening your throat. You glanced discreetly over your shoulder, but the street’s darkness seemed thicker than it should have been. The shadows of the trees swayed under the dim streetlights, forming shapes that played tricks on your mind.

You forced your legs to move faster, your heart pounding in your chest. The sound of the footsteps grew louder, echoing in your mind like war drums. Each breath felt like it was tearing through your lungs, and the air seemed thinner, as if something was crushing you. Don’t look back. You tried to convince yourself, but the curiosity was irresistible, an uncontrollable compulsion. When you turned your head, you saw a silhouette in the darkness. Long, tall, moving too quickly—almost running.

Your body reacted before your mind. Your feet hit the ground harder, and you took off, ignoring the pain spreading through your legs. The streets seemed to narrow around you, the streetlights flickering erratically, as if the city itself was conspiring against you.

The sound of the footsteps was deafening now, almost drowning out the frantic beating of your heart. Your thoughts were a whirlwind of terrifying possibilities. Who was it? What did they want? Why were they following you?

You saw your street in the distance, a flicker of hope igniting, only to be replaced by growing dread. The keys were in your pocket, but would you have time to unlock the door?

When you finally reached your front door, your hands trembled so much that the keys slipped from your fingers, hitting the ground with a metallic clink that seemed to echo endlessly. You cursed under your breath, your eyes darting frantically between the ground and the street behind you.

The silhouette was closer now. The face still hidden by shadows, but the way it moved was wrong, unnaturally calm, as if it knew you had no way out.

With shaky fingers, you managed to grab the keys and unlock the door. Leaping inside, you slammed the door shut, twisting the lock repeatedly until you were sure it was secure.

Your body slid down the wooden door until you were sitting on the cold floor. Your chest heaved uncontrollably as adrenaline coursed through your veins like fire. Outside, the silence was absolute. No footsteps. No shadows visible through the window.

And yet, you couldn’t breathe properly, as if the air around you was thick with something invisible, something that refused to leave.

Were you safe?

No matter how much you tried to convince yourself, a part of you knew that feeling wouldn’t disappear anytime soon.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline ; @just-randomm-stuff

[cy-lindric]

I wanted to vent, but also ask an honest question. Since I was a teenager, I always wanted to work on character design. And one thing that always caught my attention was how I always preferred male character designs over female ones. My first thought was that I was always more into androgynous fashion and more masculine styles. But time passed and I came to the conclusion that it wasn't just that, and it seems that male characters can always be different things: fat, thin, handsome, ugly, short, tall, young, old, etc. and female characters, for the most part, fall into two categories: cute or sexy. I wanted some tips on how I can make female characters with more interesting designs, without having to fall into those two categories. I love your work and you managed to make someone else like the three musketeers <3<3

Hello ! That's definitely a good question and something I think about a lot. The bias towards beauty is very strong in character design and it takes a conscious effort to diversify output in that regard.

That sort of advice might be a bit obvious, but one habit I picked up from the director on my first feature film gig was to actually "cast" characters. Without reference, we tend to go for the kind of symmetrical face and "average" features mostly out of stylistic habit. I like to look at character actors with distinct faces (I like this pinterest page that has a lot of faces in one place) but also just acquaintances or pictures of random crowds.

When designing a character, at first I'm always building a big reference board trying to decide what Type of Guy (gender neutral) I'm going for, trying use photos rather than other people's art, because I want to rely on automatics and graphic symbols as little as possible. Whether I'm designing a man or a woman or other, I use references of fashion styles and people across the board in terms of gender so I keep the scope open. Sometimes a character ref board for me will be a picture of one of my aunts next to a bunch of screenshots of Columbo. In my experience, a lot of the times, it's mostly about going with styles and archetypes the same way you would for a male character, and switching it up somewhere along the way by looking at real women in your life and beyond as a grounding mechanism. Sometimes that will mean changing almost nothing, because the borders between genders and how you characterize them is blurry and fluid, and sometimes it will mean using features that are uniquely tied to some sort of female experience.

I enjoy realism and I think getting more proficient at it did help me diversify my designs (I find that more difficult to do with more minimalistic styles). Still, I am mostly a fantasy artist and in my case that comes with some amount of stylization and idealization of shapes and looks. I'm far from perfect in my biases and I'm not going out of my way to draw "ugly" characters because that doesn't mean much to me ; I try to draw inspiration from the faces of every day people and I associate it with my love for fashion. It's also worth noting the work I post here for fun is a lot more hash tag aesthetic than the stuff I do professionally where diversity is much more important.

I don't know if any of that is relevant but that's definitely an interesting topic ! I'd love to know others' perspective and tips on the matter.

[stawbeemilk]

⤷ their s/o has anxiety – hq

✩ characters: various

✩ warnings: mentions of panic attacks

✩ a/n: i know anxiety is different for everyone but this is just based on my own personal experience ◡̈

⭑ kenma is very observant and can always sense when you're feeling overwhelmed in public places— it isn't long before he's asking if you want to leave, and if you say you feel guilty for cutting your day out together short he'll tell you it's fine because he prefers being at home with you anyway.

⭑ hinata isn't afraid to deliberately embarrass himself in front of others whenever you do the same, he knows you hate being the centre of attention and so he hopes that he can draw everyone’s eyes away from you and onto him instead.

⭑ yaku is so good at reassuring you when you have a panic attack, he’ll stay with you the entire time and hold your hand, refusing to leave your side as he tells you that everything will be okay and that you'll get through it just like you always do.

⭑ akaashi is always happy to listen if you ever need to vent to someone about your struggles, he can empathise with how you feel since he experiences a lot of the same things you do and is therefore very understanding of what you're going through.

⭑ sugawara has no problem with being the one who talks to the cashier when the two of you are at a checkout, and while he does try to encourage you to face things that make you anxious, he appreciates that it's not always easy for you and is happy to help you out when you need it.

⭑ kuroo likes to remind you to take your medication on time, especially if you're someone who is prone to forgetting— he even buys you one of those pill organisers and will leave various post-it notes around the house to help you remember.

⭑ yamaguchi does his best to learn all of your triggers so that he knows when you might be likely to have a panic attack, and whenever he notices that you're feeling anxious he'll walk you through breathing exercises to try and help you ground yourself.

⭑ bokuto will always order your food for you if you ask him to, he does it for you so often that he practically has all of your go-to orders for different restaurants fully memorised— he never judges you for not being able to do it yourself, but any time you do find the courage to order without his help he'll be so proud of you.

⤷ please do not repost my works on any other sites!

[redflagshipwriter]

Young Lovers shot by Cupid ch 3

(Damian/Danny dpxdc fic, Damian and Stephanie buddy cop fic)

Masterpost

Brown was a somewhat agreeable partner to travel with when she was not aiming to irritate him. She made no side trips, unexpected stops, and she certainly did not feel the need to show off world-class acrobatics when they were aiming for speed.

Begrudgingly, Damian admitted to himself that she was not entirely terrible. The revelation that she felt some competitive spirit in regards to Drake was good information. That could improve their working relationship considerably. Perhaps he would allow her more grace.

They arrived at the mall in short order.

They looked up the blueprint from outside and quietly conferred on a plan. The large building was closed, dark, and quiet. There was a single security office, and it seemed that the mall did not employ anyone overnight. Damian pried open a vent on the roof and slipped inside silently. Brown was at his heels a moment later. She hit the ground with a soft tap of her boots.

Imperfect, but excusable, Damian generously allowed.

The office itself was a damp little nest of filing cabinets with a lingering and unpleasant aroma of popcorn butter and coffee. Damian wrinkled his nose through the task of sorting their security tapes.

The food court tapes from yesterday had already been removed, labeled, and put away.

Unfortunately, they were literal tapes. Damian huffed in disbelief at the bulky VHS units.

“Holy moly,” Brown muttered. “I thought the old man was the only person who still used these.”

Indeed.

Damian suppressed a sigh. “I think it unwise to linger here and watch all the footage,” he said, but he hesitated to take them. It would have been much better if they could simply make a copy. But these? Impossible. Wasn’t it?

…Batman would know. Damian crossed his arms unhappily. The oldest members of the family would hold this knowledge. “You are too young to know these devices?” he confirmed.

Brown huffed a little laugh. “Yeah, but how hard can it be?” She tapped at the likeliest tape with a gloved finger. “There has to be a way to make copies. We can look it up. But we could just watch here. You know what time the incident was, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Damian admitted begrudgingly. “But it would be optimal to watch the entire day’s footage to ensure that nothing else happened.”

Brown blew out air between her lips. “Alrighty then.” She dug out her nightphone and apparently started searching for tutorials.

Between the two of them, they managed it. They slipped away with two recorded tapes. They made a detour to deposit them in Spoiler’s bike storage before returning to their patrol. In between normal activities, they quietly debate their next challenge: watching the tapes. Obviously, Batman was the only person in the world paranoid enough to retain such ancient technology. They needed to use his equipment. But how to do it without being seen? It was kept in the entertainment room closest to Father’s bedroom, so that he could watch his childhood favorites if the nostalgic urge struck. He occasionally did so as background noise for filling out paperwork.

“The easiest time would be when he’s at work,” Brown recapped thoughtfully. “But there isn’t much of a window between when we get free from school and when he could come home from work. It would take weeks to watch it all that way even once, and by then Valentine’s Day would have passed.”

Damian made a tsk of disgust. It was true. Unfortunately, the fastest way to draw attention to their operation would be to forgo school. That would invite scrutiny from Pennyworth.

“Oh look, a carjacking.” Brown threw herself off the building and screeched like a bat as she fell. The sound rang out and echoed across the cold, dark streets.

It was a bloodcurdling sound. The guilty man looked up with amusingly wide eyes and a pale face. Damian suppressed an amused snort and came down in silence at a different angle.

After they had apprehended the fool and left him with a stern warning to follow the law or else face the pain of losing a hand, the two returned to the skies.

“That was pretty metal,” Brown said, in a tone of ardent admiration.

Damian cast a look back at the building they had been passing. He hadn't noticed anything in particular. To what was she referring? The window grates? Something inside the windows? He chose not to respond other than with a grunt.

Brown laughed again.

He ignored her harder and channeled his tenseness into an unnecessary flip before landing. He stood and put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the city. “Your Mother is frequently at work while you are imprisoned in school.”

“...Yes.” Brown cocked her head to the side.

He nodded briskly. “You will give me a disease,” Damian instructed. “Of course you may not malaise without supervision. You must come to the manor.”

“Oh, fake a sick day or two,” Brown breathed. She clasped her hands together. “You're becoming such a real boy, d’you know that?”

“Tt.” Damian turned away with disgust so that he did not have to see Spoiler bouncing on her heels.

“Alright, symptoms. Can't argue with diarrhea!”

He cringed hard.

“There's a good reason for no one else to see it,” Spoiler justified. “We can't fake a fever. We could maybe manage clamminess, red eyes, etc.” She paused. “But honestly, the two of us being sick at the same time would go a long way to convince, since we have a history of antagonism.” He could see her make a face under her mask. “Tonight could work against us for that.”

Damian nodded. “We will have to invent a conflict,” he said. He immediately started picking through their patrol for a premise.

She blew a raspberry. “Nah, adding details gives them something to unpick,” she said.

He was struck by the unwelcome realization that she was not wholly unintelligent. His mouth felt glued shut.

“I'll just go back in a bad mood, make a couple faces and sigh loudly once,” Spoiler said airily. “You put on your little thundercloud face and storm away, give crisp answers to anyone who asks if there's something wrong.”

“...And in the morning, I will sleep in,” Damian said. “Past my alarm. Pennyworth will note it as a matter of concern. I will get ready for school.”

“I'll call and ask if I can malaise at the Manor, since my mom is at work and she's worried,” Brown continued easily. “Alfred will put two and two together and tell you to stay home.”

Damian hesitated. “I think that if you had given me some low-class disease,” he started.

She cut him off with a lifted hand. “You get that illness isn't a class related thing, right?” She huffed. “Maybe you got me sick with your elementary school germs. Little kids are disgusting.”

…His peers were upsettingly unhygienic. He gritted his jaw.

Still, he had his self respect to maintain.

“I would never pass a contagious disease,” Damian vowed. He had too much self discipline for that. “The origin must be you.”

She hummed.

“Robin and Spoiler, you two are closest to Red Hood. Care to lend a hand?”

The two straightened into professional posture that Damian didn't remember leaving. “What's the situation?” Brown asked.

“He shook a bush and a lot of creepy crawlies flew out,” Oracle drawled. “Danger is minimal, but containment is impossible with one. Dropping coordinates.”

The next hour was spent dragging dregs of a gang from Bloodhaven out of dumpsters and other such crannies in order to escort them to city limits. They were aurally assaulted by Todd’s idea of a motivational speech and his puerile territorialism. “Stay out or I'll cut your hands off and sew them onto your ankles, blah blah.”

Damian tuned it out. Mother had truly wasted her time on him. He was so dramatic.

The rest of the night went as planned. He and Brown returned to the cave in a pointed silence, wrote professional reports, and stalked to their respective showers without exchanging a word.

He went to his room and picked up his alarm clock. Perhaps he ought to adjust the time?

‘No. If Pennyworth is passing and does not hear it at the usual time, he will note the irregularity.’

Damian willed himself to sleep. When the alarm did go off, it took his finely honed discipline to turn the machine off and then lie back down in bed. It was… uncomfortable. he laid there stiffly, looking at the ceiling.

He forced his eyes to shut. He matched his breathing to a pattern for sleep. And he waited to see how long it would take for someone to notice that he had slept in.

His punishment for childhood began at 8 am and released the prisoners at 3 pm. Therefore, he habitually awoke at 6:30 am. After an agonizing wait Damian peeled open an eye to see that the time was 7:12.

…It was past the time that he would normally have arrived at the breakfast table. He weighed if he wished to hurry downstairs or let Pennyworth come to check on him.

Something felt like a rock in his stomach. Damian sat up and put a hand to it, frowning at the sensation. What was this? When he had thought about his actions causing Pennyworth to abandon his post and trek up a flight of stairs the odd feeling had emerged.

There was a knock on his door. Damian's head shot up as it opened. Pennyworth peered in and his eyebrows went up slightly at the sight of Damian still abed. “Good morning, Master Damian,” he greeted.

“I apologize.” Damian took the hand off of his stomach and all but leapt to his feet. “I have- overslept. I will be but a moment.” He paused, genuinely flustered. “Good morning, Pennyworth.”

“Your breakfast is ready,” Pennyworth said mildly. “Excuse me.” He closed the door.

Damian raced through the bare minimum of his routine and pulled on a school uniform. He made it to the kitchen at 7:20. He faintly heard a phone ring in the other room. His heart gave just one undisciplined leap. Was it Brown, telling their story?

Drake was slouched halfway over the table, cradling a hard-boiled egg in his hands. An otherwise empty plate had been pushed into the center of the table. He had kicked his chair out quite far and was leaning directly forward, his entire upper body on the wood. He contemplated the depths of the egg with a wrinkled brow and eyes halfway hidden under bangs.

Damian edged around Drake to his seat, careful to avoid physical contact.

“You're late,” Drake said to the egg.

Perhaps it was his egg, Damian thought snidely. He was an oversized duck, was he not? Perhaps he had laid that egg and that was why it was so fascinating to him.

“Oy,” Drake drawled. He sniffled as he turned to look at Damian. “What's wrong with you? Forget a project?”

“Do not be foolish,” Damian forbade. He picked up his silverware and set it on his breakfast.

Drake regarded him for a long time. “Are you sick?”

…Why did he think so?

“No, I am not,” Damian snapped back, before he could think better of it. Perhaps he ought to have let Drake establish his alibi.

“I don't know, you look kinda off,” Drake said. He let the hand cradling his egg hit the table and he squinted.

“Master Timothy,” Pennyworth said.

Damian did not jump.

“Ms. Brown has just called to say that she's quite under the weather. I will be retrieving her shortly. How is your condition?”

Drake sat up. “I'm fine, Alfred,” he said formally. Then he blinked. “I think Damian is sick.”

He bristled. “You will bite your tongue,” Damian snapped back. “I am- I am no such thing.”

He could see the moment they both decided that he was, in fact, too ill for school. That was the goal: but he could not accept it calmly. They would assume he was on death’s welcome mat. Therefore he hissed and protested and derided Brown’s name with only a distant smidgeon of guilt.

But eventually, Damian was ushered to a quiet and dark room to wait while Pennyworth informed the day prison that Damian would be absent from Geology, Geometry, and all manner of vile variations on how one might ensure misery for a lone intellectual in a flood of brainless oafs.

Success.

Brown was delivered and managed to appear in the same room that Damian had been consigned to. She had managed to contrive an unusually poor condition of her normally lustrous hair. That, combined with shapeless clothes and smudged eye makeup, served to make her appear quite terrible indeed.

“You look terrible,” Damian told her, because she had done a good job.

A muscle twitched visibly under her eye.

“Is Bruce gone yet?” She asked.

Damian shook his head. “He will leave at 9:30.”

Brown sucked on her lower lip for a moment and wiggled into the crack of the sofa cushions. “I think we should go to his VHS room before he leaves, so when he notices someone was in there he doesn't see a reason to investigate.”

Damian shook his head minutely. “No. He will take the opportunity to spend the day with his ailing children and watch his favorite childhood show. We will have no opportunity to watch the security footage.”

“Not his kid,” Brown muttered. “But you're right. The chance is too high.” She let her head hit the back of the sofa. “That would be a good way to spend a real sick day, I think.”

Was she wistful?

Damian eyed her in bewilderment. Was she aching for bonding time with Father?

“I shall inform him that you want to watch his detective show at a later date,” he decided generously.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Cole headcanons perchance 👀 maybe a bit of angst :3

The fan favorite of the group

HUGE worry wart

Gets ready for things an hour in advance, then gets stressed when no one else is also ready

Kingsley in particular drives them up the wall with this

Because he definitely takes his sweet time getting ready (but he somehow always is on time and ready to go without being late)

Being late is NOT an option for Cole

The Lark was once late to one (1) single performance, and Cole was convinced that their fans hated them and were going to throw tomatoes

Makes really good tea out of various herbs

Often tells Perrine to calm down and relax, since she’s always going and going and going, not quite realizing the irony in what they’re saying

“Pot calling kettle black” -Perrine

But in fairness, Perrine does the Exact Same Thing

Feels like they’ll never be able to live up to The Storyteller’s legacy and thinks that they’re ruining their image/name

Their voice once cracked during a performance, and they couldn’t sleep at all that night out of embarrassment

It STILL keeps them up weeks later

When they blush, their WHOLE HEAD turns red, even their ears

Keeps a diary

Writes songs to vent their emotions

Once gave Clémentine flowers with the roots still attached (they got nervous and ripped them straight out of the ground)

Has frequent nightmares about the death of their family

Their biggest fear is forgetting the faces of their parents

The voices of their mother and father have already started to slip

If they lose their faces, too, they don’t know what they’ll do

So they’ve done everything in their power to preserve their image

Such as painting and drawing

They just need to cling to them a little longer

They’re a kid

They shouldn’t have to go without a mom and dad

It isn’t fair

Why them?

What did they ever do to deserve such a fate?

They were good people

It should have been them

They should have died that day

Not their mom and dad

They wish it had been them instead

[2knightt]

IM SORRY, I KNOW U GOT A REQUEST ON THIS SO MUCH ALREADY BUT…

Your motherly!reader fics are so good 😭! can you pleasee do another? platonic with the gang!! no romance 🥰 thank youu ❤️❤️❤️ your work is amazing btw!

the gang x motherly!reader

!warnings!

1.i did headcanons i hope thats okay😭

2.fem!reader

3.swearing and a small mention of violence.

Johnny Cade ;

like i’ve said before in other fics, he loves you so much.

honestly, you might be one of his favourite people!

when he walks down the street and he just so happens to see a cute flower, he picks it and gives it to you!

when he first met you, he refused to see you when he was injured in anyway. he thought you’d think he was weak and never see him again.

but as time went on, and you showed that you genuinely cared for him, he showed more of his vulnerable side.

johnny likes it when you patch him up now!

he thinks it’s calming, relaxing, and a, ‘nice change of things rather than lettin’ mother nature cure it.’

when he unknowingly/accidentally vents to you about his home life, he does get embarrassed.

he didn’t want you knowing, but when you hugged him real tight and told him sweet nothings?? he teared up ngl.

johnny wishes you could’ve been his mom.

when or if you have kids, johnny wishes they don’t take the, ‘how was your day?’ and the, ‘how’s school going?’ for granted.

because to johnny cade, that would be his perfect fairytale.

having someone as sweet as you to turn his life around, makes him excited to see tomorrow.

Dallas Winston ;

another bitch with mommy issues who is glad to have you.

mrs.curtis was definitely the mother he never had but always wanted and when she died, he was devastated.

but when you came along and started being that mother he missed??? he was both annoyed and over the moon.

he didn’t like that every time you bailed him out of jail, he got an ear full. however, he did like to know verbally that someone cared about him

he doesn’t show you any sort of affection, but he will tell you how he feels when drunk.

“thank you, so much y/n. i-i don’t know where i’d be without you.”

for mothers day, he doesn’t do anything special.

BUT—you didn’t hear this from me, before the clock hits 12, expect to hear like a cute little knock at your door, and open it to see a single flower on the ground with a pack of cigarettes.

dally ran off before you or anyone else could see him.

even though he didn’t sign his name, you knew it was from him. so, next time you see him, say thank you.

Ponyboy Curtis ;

he’s like a toddler around you???

ponyboy definitely pretends to be like, your own bodyguard.

but really, who’s scared of ponyboy?

he tries though!

when he watches a movie and some character reminds him of you, expect that to be the first thing he tells you.

“ya know, when i went to the drive in, you really reminded of this one character.”

“oh? why’s that?”

“well because-“

and now you have to sit there and listen to him.

he’ll draw for you so much :(.

if you tell him your favourite flower, he WILL give you a drawing of it the next day. he’ll stay up all night if he has too!

Sodapop Curtis ;

he’s literally your #2 fan. first place goes to johnny.

he’s your biggest hypeman??? omg???

“gee, y/n! you’re lookin’ real fancy!! gonna get all the guys, eh?”

when ponyboy and darry argue and he just can’t take it anymore, he calls you and asks to come over.

and of course, you say yes everytime.

so please, PLEASE, just let him cry into your arms!!!!

when he’s done, he’ll try to go home but i’m begging you to tell him he’s welcomed to stay the night.

and if he does stay? ponyboy will be at your doorstep too.

he’ll share his famous chocolate cake with you!! he’ll make sure steve doesn’t touch it.

“STEVE THAT WAS FOR Y/N! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”

“OH SHIT SHIT SHIT! WE MAKE MAKE ONE TOGETHER! THE MORE PEOPLE THE FASTER THE CAKE WILL BAKE RIGHT?!”

“DO I LOOK LIKE A SCIENTIST??”

Darry Curtis ;

he is so thankful for you i legit can’t stress that enough.

you keep the gang in check, you keep ponyboy happy, and you help him around the house. what more could he ask for?

you legit force darry to relax while you look after the gang to make sure nothing bad happens.

“we’ll be fine, darry. go to bed, your dark circles are gettin’ darker by the minute.”

“yeah super-man! we’ll be fine with y/n!”

“yeah!!”

“fine, but if she wakes me up to tell me about any of you, so god help me.”

if you welcome him home with a newspaper and his favourite cup of coffee after a long day at work, he might ask you to move in.

Steve Randle ;

steve pretends that he doesn’t like you that much.

but he really does. like, the second he hears some soc threaten or insult you? he’s after them.

shit, he might be chasin’ after them in two-bits car while two-bit yells at the person.

he will legit go to war for you if you asked him nicely.

he will rant to you about cars if you let him😭.

he’ll rant to you about anything, honestly.

“and then the old bastard asked for a refund! the ‘no refunds’ sign was right on the door! how could that old bat not see it?!”

“steve! don’t call people that, but yes, it was very rude of that man to do that too you.”

“RIGHT?!”

Two-bit Matthews ;

he forces you to relax and watch mickey mouse with him.

he says it’s for your own good but when really, he just wants to spend time with you without the gang interrupting.

“guys! you’re stressing her out with all your STUPID questions! c’mon, y/n, mickey mouse is calling our names. can’t you hear it?”

“or maybe its the booze you had at 10AM.”

“i will sock you in your fucking throat steve.”

he plays with your hair…he finds it fun!

please tell him how to do some styles so he can go home and impress his little sister :(.

he offers you beer every once and awhile just so he can say he got you to loosen up.

“so y/n…you want some?”

“oh! no thank you, two. you know i don’t drink.”

he calls you mom in a joking way, ya dig?

“momm! steve called me a dumbass!”

“steve, be nice! apologize.”

“what the fuck?!”

author notes ;

1. i like totally rushed near the end LMFAO.

2. i never thought you bitches would eat motherly!reader up like this??

3.are you guys okay??

4.THANK U SWEETHEART OMFG??

5.i think theres no romance??

may 15th, 2023. 6:39PM

[mssorceressupreme]

Hiiii

I think your writing is soo addictive and creative, to me it's like a breath of fresh air, especially because an active Maze Runner blog is so hard 😭🤚

Could I request a Minho X reader, and reader is from one of the other mazes? Could you have her be really funny, always cracking puns and that's what she said jokes, loud, laughs a lot and is fun to be around .And she escapes with Aris, and she's a total badass in combat, and had a similar job to Minho so they bond over that lol.

Even if you don't write this, just know your writing is fire, so please never stop.

💕

of course love, I’d be more than happy to write this for you!! 🥰 actually since this prompt is really similar to what I was planning to write for my other POV, “Who Is She?”, I’ll make this a part two to that and weave in the elements of your prompt 🫶🏼🫶🏼 I hope this satisfies your idea 😭🫶🏼

——-

Who Is She? Pt. 2

Pairing: Minho x reader

Summary: a second part where Minho and you escape the compound with the others, and deeper feelings arise between the two of you.

Warnings: mild violence, use of guns

———

“I’ll meet Thomas and the others on the other side, promise you’ll find us later?” Aris wanted to make sure you’d be safe before crawling through the vents beneath his bunk.

“Yeah I’ll find you guys, just need to do something real quick.” You affirmed, before the both of you parted ways, leaving your room for good.

The other members from your glade, were at the dining hall, you and Aris, however, wanted to grab this opportunity to escape the compound.

You shut the heavy metal door behind you, the screech was loud enough to draw attention to your room, but thank goodness there weren’t any guards around.

Or so you thought.

As you turned a corner, you were met with a large, intimidating figure. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he growled, his grip like iron as he grabbed your arm, yanking you harshly.

“Let go of me!” You snapped, treating to wrench your arm free, but as you did so, you managed to swiftly slip your hand inside his pocket and steal his ID card. The card that would hopefully grant you guys access through these high security doors.

“Let go!” You continued, but with each plea, his grip grew stronger. “I said let—”

“Let go.” Minho appeared on the end of the hallway, slowly making his way towards us. The guard glared at him, his grip no looser than before.

“As the host, I thought you’d have more decorum, some respect with how you treat your guests.” Minho frowned, “Don’t you agree Y/N?” He turned to you.

You smiled slyly, knowing what Minho was capable of, his confident demeanour was such a turn on for you. Man, it was hot when a guy knew what he was doing, confidently, at that.

The guard sneered, “This is none of your business. Get back to the dining hall.”

Minho’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching, “Let her go. Now.”

The guard’s grip faltered for a moment, but he didn’t release you. “Or what?”

Minho swiftly pulled out a gun, the metallic click echoing ominously in the hallway. The guard’s eyes widened in shock. “Where did you get that?!”

Without hesitation, Minho fired, the bullet sending an electric shock through the guard’s body. He collapsed to the ground, twitching as the current coursed through him.

Minho grabbed your hand, pulling you into a run.

“How did you find me? This place is like a maze,” you panted as the two of you sprinted down the corridor.

Minho flashed a proud grin, “Oh, trust me, mazes are my forte. I was a runner back in the glade.”

Your face lit up upon the common ground he just shared, “Nice to know I’m escaping with a fellow runner.”

“Why weren’t you with Aris? If I didn’t find you, you could’ve been…”

You took out the ID card and showed him, “To get this. Could be our way out.”

He nodded, “Not bad, I suppose runners are the smartest of the bunch.”

“A statement I will not defy.” You smirked.

“This way,” You continued to hold hands as he led you through the compound, all too easily. He had this whole placed mentally mapped out in a few days, which was impressive.

As he ran, you snuck a few glances at him, eyeing him up and down. The way he led you, his confidence, the way his black compression shirt hugged his physique perfectly, making his biceps evident. It made you drool internally, but no way would you ever admit that aloud.

Eventually, you both found the others, who managed to get Teresa out. Apart from reuniting with the others, we also now found that there were multiple troops of guards chasing after us, that’s lovely!

“Come on, we gotta go!!” Thomas urged everyone, “This way!!”

“Why are they shooting at us?!” Frypan yelled, dodging what seemed to be never-ending bullets.

“Anyone have ideas on how we’re going to make it through that bloody vault door?” Newt looked around frantically, seeking answers.

“Here! I’ve got it!” You pulled the card out of your pocket, swiping it multiple times before the door finally turned green, granting you access to escape. (a/n: their escape scene is a bit different from the movie lol)

As soon as you made it past the door, Aris smashed the keypad, sealing the doorway between the guards, Janson, and your group. Winston grabbed a pistol, which was resourceful.

“Good thinking, let’s grab some of their stuff while we can.” You instructed, grabbing a gun yourself, and a backpack.

The others followed through before Thomas hurried you lot once more, “Come on, we’ve got to go! Keep moving!”

You arrive at the main door, towering over the group of you. Thomas wasted no time pulling the lever, and Minho held out his hand for you to hold before officially escaping the compound.

“Just keep going!” Minho urged the group, “we’ll loose them in the storm.”

Teresa came across an abandoned mall, and decided to enter, “Come on! Get down here!”

The group of you entered down one by one, finding temporary refuge in a cracked, dilapidated mall. The blistering heat of the scorch was relentless, but Minho stayed close to you, his protective instincts kicking into high gear.

“Let’s pack some of this stuff up, anything you think you might need. We’ll split up, see what we can find and meet back here.” Thomas instructed, to which you nodded.

You wandered off alone, exploring the place with a tiny torch. The runner instincts in you had not diluted at all since the maze.

“Trying to get rid of me so fast?” Minho called out as he jogged up to you.

You chuckled, “Just wanted to explore that’s all.”

“Let’s do that together then, you’ll need this.” He tossed you a larger torch.

“Better.” You affirmed, turning it on.

“This place is dead silent…we could be as loud as we want and no one would hear us for miles.” You said, as you explored the mall.

Minho held back his laughter, “That’s what she said.”

You paused momentarily, before recalling what you said. We can be as loud as we want. I’d definitely be vocal for you Minho. “Whatever.” You playfully punch him, rolling your eyes but biting back a smile.

Under the moonlit sky, you and Minho shared a quiet moment. You stood in the soft glow of the broken mall’s atrium, a moonlight ray shining through the glass roof. The silver light casting ethereal shadows around you.

“I feel like now might be the perfect time to say…thank you,” You began, “…for saving me.” Your voice soft with gratitude.

“Of course, we needed that key card of yours.” He witty remarked earned another punch from you.

“Dick.” You chuckled.

Minho smiled, eyes warm and sincere, “I’ll always be there for you. You can trust me.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, filled with unspoken words and mutual understanding.

“You know, uh, I’m glad that it was you I ran into at the hallway that day.” You confessed, out of everyone in the world, you were glad that it was Minho you met that day.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He smiled softly, before Thomas and the others ran over to you guys.

“RUN! RUN!” He shouted. The two of you stood there, squinting at his unusual behaviour.

“Oh shit!” You said in unison, as the two of you pieced together the fact that weird zombie like humans were chasing you. (a/n: they didn’t know the definition of cranks yet).

“Well, let’s hope we make it out alive!” You ran alongside Minho.

“If we do, will you marry me?” Minho blurted out, while sprinting.

“What?!” You were breathy, but a rush of adrenaline surged through you.

“Ignore what I said!” He yelled, turning back to get a view of our chasers.

“Only if you let me be your girlfriend first!” You shouted back amidst the running.

“Deal!”

[dgrailwar]

Round 3, Day 2 - ALL TEAMS (Extra Summon - Tempest)

The lone Faker stood in the midst of the storm, awaiting whoever was to challenge her.

A figure, spiraling down from the heavens and striking at the Faker. The Alter-Ego, beautiful and proud, engaged in swift close combat as her bladed legs danced against the sparking metal of the Faker's sword. They seemed to be evenly matched, as the Alter-Ego laughed.

"I don't get what all the fuss is about--! I could handle you by myself, you know?"

"Alter-Ego… I like that warrior's confidence, but it won't be enough!"

The Faker's eyes flashed, the Alter-Ego's movements slowing in a critical moment as she was struck off the chariot, only recovering fast enough to safely land on the ground to regroup. The chariot wheeled downwards, charging at the Alter-Ego before a gust of wind threw it off course, the Faker's attention turning to another Servant. The MoonCancer, hovering in the air with massive flapping elephant ears, venting to nobody in particular.

"Gh… why couldn't I have 'support-type' build? Then I could just hang back and throw out buffs while everyone else got in close with the fighting. Ahh-- whatever! If I'm a tank, then I'm a tank! Let's draw some aggro!"

With the Faker's attention drawn elsewhere, two more Servants rushed into the fray.

"The sound of lightning…!"

"Come, o' Blade of Flames!"

Two attacks, simultaneously struck at the Faker. One, a glittering roseate fencing blade thrust forward. Second, a dark saber of cursed flames slashed downward. Both attacks forced the rider of the skeletal chariot to reel, as she retaliated with her own sword, knocking them both away with a thunderous strike as they both spiraled in the air, struggling to catch themselves.

"Uwaah--! That sword… is fast…!" "Hahaha! She's a bit tougher than a standard Heroic Spirit! Good! Very good!"

On the ground, two Servants watched. One of them, a Pretender in a white cloak, held out his hands as magic sparkled outward, providing energy to the direct combatants as they fought against the Faker. The second, a Ruler wearing a heavy blue cloak against the storm, was waving her banner proudly, light shining from her body.

"You must be the Ruler, looking at how proudly you're waving that flag. I didn't take a Ruler for one to want a reward."

"I don't care for the reward, just for solving this Grail War. This battle... we'll have to work together, but by some metric one of us will be determined as 'the best'."

"An 'MVP', perhaps?" The Pretender chuckled. "So, nobody can afford to sandbag either. Everybody wants to be a winner, right? Even someone like you can't afford to lose."

She slammed down her banner, the harsh rainfall temporarily broken by golden light that pierced through like an arrow, covering all the participating Servants against the Faker-Class.

"You're right, I don't want to lose either...so, let's give it our all! Come, Faker! Let the battle begin!"

"Hahaha! Now this is what I love to see! In this bout, I shall serve as your seventh! So come, show me that warrior spirit! The greatest of you will face glory, and the cowardly will face punishment! Warriors of the Extra-Class, Mages of the modern era, distant as you may ever be-- show me your resolve, and Faker will return it in kind!"

Due to the presence of all participating Servants everyone is put on fair ground! No boosts or demerits apply, the results are what they are!

The Servant who does the most against Faker (as in, gets 1st Place) wins!

SCORING:

1st Place will receive a boost of their choosing from an assortment for their next round!

2nd Place will not receive any rewards, but evade punishment!

3rd through 5th Place will gain a -2% demerit during their next round! These demerits bypass any resistances!

Last place will gain a wound that bypasses any damage evasion passives!

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I am so happy you're back and seem to be doing even a little bit better! We missed you!

I wanted to send a little message, so you can ignore it if it sours your mood or you don't feel like dealing with it, feel no pressure at all! It's just this blog has been a safe space and the community has been so welcoming that I figured I could vent really quick

You know when sometimes the brain just has a really shitty day, like when you draw something and it screams at you that it's trash even though there's nothing wrong with it? I've been having a rough time with it deciding to scream that comfort characters would cheat, probably as an 'You are so unlovable not even fictional characters would be loyal' bullshit. Now, logically, I know this makes -67 sense. But, I was wondering if you could just reassure that like, Sanji, Mihawk, Buggy, Shanks, Crocodile, Blablablablabla long list of One Piece characters you write for, would not cheat? I'm sorry, this sounds lame to even write out but I'm trying to get my brain to stop thinking that asking for help is 'pathetic' because it is not and it only applies that logic to me, never to anyone else.

I dunno man. Brains and bring human ate both though af.

I missed all of you as well. Really and sincerely. I have a tendency to go radio silent when I'm going through a difficult time and I hate it immensely, but hearing that I was missed to makes me all

And yes, oh gods, I know. My brain is frequently my worst enemy. Especially when I'm not writing. My anxiety starts working overtime and my creative drive becomes dedicated to coming up with problems that could potentially happen for me to worry about even more and it's an absolute bitch; or even when I am actively creating and a little voice insists that everything I make is stupid garbage.

This is still very much and always will be a safe space. It definitely is awful to feel that unworthy of love. Full disclosure, I've mentioned in passing before that I've been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder depressive type. My main issue is auditory hallucinations that like to insist that everyone I love and care about only tolerate me out of pity and secretly would rather I not be around, which leads to me isolating myself from people. Huge part of the reason I go silent when life decides to be a bitch. I know it's just as bad feeling that way about comfort characters, if not even worse, when we're supposed to have them to help us get through that kind of bullshit.

So let me provide a little drabble for the one comfort character I’m certain wouldn’t ever allow us to continue being so silly about our worthiness of love and affection, because we’re all worthy of such a basic human need. I may do more later, but one in particular jumped at the opportunity to provide this comfort, and I fear he may counter me with his dreaded puppy-dog-eyes should I even dare attempt to wait.

Good Enough

OPLA!Sanji x AFAB!Reader

Lil drabble thingy

SFW, Hurt/Comfort

Possible TRIGGER WARNINGS for depression, insecurity, self-worth

♫♬ Moonshine ♬♫ — The Fratellis (yes I’m STILL on my Fratellis BS leave me be)

"Never knowing is the most evil feeling, when every answer here is none too appealing"

Sanji had always been a flirt. You knew that from the moment you started working on the wait staff at Baratie. Your trust issues had made it a little difficult for you to open up around the young sous chef (and occasional waiter on the frequent occasion that Zeff kicked him out of the kitchen for insubordination), but it was his outgoing nature and perseverance that had ultimately won you over. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only girl in the world when you were together, doting upon you, all but worshipping the ground you walked on.

But when he was sent out to work the dining area, it always made you nervous. His innate charm, his handsome features—he was nearly always a hit with female customers. No matter how much you told yourself that he was only doing his job, there was always a nagging feeling that maybe there was more to it than that. Watching him interact with a table of pretty young women, who by their clothing and demeanor were obviously far more affluent and sophisticated than you, left you distracted in your own work.

Seeing how they giggled at everything he said, how they fluttered their eyelashes when he brought them their drinks.

How the pretty blonde at the table leaned so close to him while he pointed to something on the menu, close enough to brush her hand across his.

You managed to spill a tray of drinks all over yourself while you were watching, leading to a scolding from the front of house manager. You saw the table of girls from the corner of your eye, giggling at your clumsiness before you were sent off to clean yourself up and change your uniform.

No matter how much you told yourself you were being silly, there was nothing you could do to shake it. The doubts, the thoughts of how easily he could find someone better than you. You had your jaw clenched the entire time you were changing your shirt in the staff restroom, tossing the soiled one aside as you leaned against the sink in front of the mirror and forced yourself to take slow, level breaths.

You were still on the clock. You couldn’t break down. You had to get changed, had to get back to work, had to pretend everything was fine, if he found out you were being so stupid about this then he would definitely drop you like a bad habit, you had to compose yourself or—

Knock knock.

Your eyes darted to the bathroom door, your breath catching in your throat at the sound of the light knock.

“J—just a minute,” you forced out, flinching at the sound of your own voice breaking a little.

Stupid, you’re being stupid, stop it stop it stop it—

A brief silence followed your answer, a silence that seemed to stretch on for miles despite lasting only a few seconds. The familiar, gentle voice that answered after a moment made your hands clench around the porcelain of the sink.

“You alright, love?” You drew in a sharp breath, swallowing, clenching your eyes shut. Of course it was Sanji. You had almost hoped that the manager had come scold you for taking too long. That would have been easier to deal with right now. Your eyes darted to the locked doorknob as it rattled a little. “I heard—”

“I’m fine,” you said immediately, the strained quality of your own words as they met your ears making your hands tighten a little more on the edge of the sink. “I—I just tripped and spilled a few drinks, I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” You gritted your teeth, laying your head back to stare up at the ceiling. Of course he wouldn’t let it go that easily. The doorknob rattled a little again, and you glanced at it as if it were a viper poised to strike out at you at any second.

Stupid, you’re being stupid, don’t—

“You sound—”

You reached out and turned the lock on the doorknob, and turned away from the door, crossing your arms over your half-buttoned shirt and stared down at your feet. After a long moment, you heard the door open behind you.

Evidently you didn’t look any less distressed than you felt. His quiet sigh met your ear as the door shut lightly and the lock turned. “Oh, love, it’s fine,” he said gently, his footfalls echoing quietly in the small bathroom, closing the short distance across the tile floor between the two of you. Your whole body tensed as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his forehead over the crown of your hair with a quiet chuckle. “It’s only a few drinks, it could happen to anyone.”

You shook your head, your shoulders shaking a little. Stupid, it was so stupid, but the words were already leaving your mouth before you could stop them. “Oh, yeah, anyone.” You couldn’t stop. You couldn’t. He had a way of pulling all your insecurities to the surface that no one else did. You pulled your crossed arms tighter, staring down at the white floor tiles for a moment before shutting your eyes tightly, your voice shaking a little. “Especially a dumb screw-up like me—”

“Don’t do that.” His tone came out a little sharper with this, and your breath hitched audibly in your throat this time, your shoulders hunching as you clenched your eyes shut tighter, swallowing back the lump in your throat. As if to counter your stiff posture, he pulled his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you closer, his thumb rubbing lightly against your waist in a comforting manner. “Don’t, sweetheart. Please.”

The warmth of his embrace already had you relaxing a little. Your shoulders slumped, your body leaning back against him, but your eyes were still burning when you opened them to stare down at the toes of your shoes.

“Was it the manager?” he asked gently, shifting behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder. “If he was being an ass I’ll gladly kick his ass off the docks.” Your breath left your lungs in a slow, trembling sigh as you shook your head no, your gaze drifting down to his hand at your hip, still rubbing lightly against you, your lips curling into a fleeting smile at his offer. You knew you were being stupid, but… “Then what’s wrong, love?” he asked, his voice a soft, comforting murmur in your ear.

“I…” You drew in a deep breath, closing your eyes as he tilted his head so his cheek lay against your shoulder. “Y—you—“

You swallowed against the lump forming in your throat, drawing in a deep breath, trying and failing to steady the whirlwind of thoughts swirling through your mind, thoughts of how maybe this was all a lie, of how you weren’t anything more than a silly little fling to him, how you weren’t good enough, how easily you could be replaced.

You bit your lip, glancing down as his hand found yours, watching his fingers lace between your own…and the breath left you in a slow, resigned sigh.

“It’s stupid,” you said quietly.

“If it’s got you this upset, then it’s anything but stupid,” he countered, and you had to purse your lips tightly to keep them from curving into a small smile as you felt his press briefly against your cheek in a soft kiss. “And if it’s something I’ve done—”

“N—no, you haven’t—” But how quickly you shook your head, how your shoulders tensed, betrayed your worries. “I…I just…” You slowly relaxed once more as he squeezed you against him, his cheek nuzzling against your shoulder, his soft blonde hair tickling against your neck. Still unable to turn your head to meet his eyes, you bit the bullet and forced yourself to voice your worries. “You have beautiful women making goo-goo eyes at you all day,” you said, keeping your voice low in an attempt to keep it steady. “I—I don’t—I’m not—” You bit your lip, your heart racing as you clenched your eyes shut, cursing yourself internally as you felt the tickle of a tear leaving your eye to trail down one of your cheeks. “Y-you could have any girl you wanted. L—like that blonde that was hanging all over you while you were showing her the menu, or—or—”

“Oh, sweetheart…” You weren’t quite able to mask the small sob that hitched in your chest as Sanji loosened his embrace—only to gently place a hand on your hip, guiding you to turn around and face him, to pull you against his chest as you tried and failed to fight back tears. He gently shushed your quiet sobs and stammered apologies as he wrapped his arms around you fully, combing his fingers through your hair as he laid his head over yours. Your eyes remained clenched shut as you fought to control your breathing , as he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your forehead.

Sanji lowered his head and nuzzled into your hair, holding you flush against him.

“I already have the girl I want. The perfect girl.” He pressed another tender kiss to your temple, murmuring against your skin, “I have her right here in my arms. And I hope,” he said, his tone turning a little playful as he shifted to rest his forehead against yours, “that I’ll still have her tonight after dinner shift is over.” He brushed your hair behind your ear, smiling as he tilted his head to meet your gaze, puling a small smile to your lips as your cheeks grew a little warmer. “So we can cuddle up together on the balcony…watch the stars…laugh at all the drunk idiots stumbling back to their boats…”

You could practically hear him smiling as a few soft giggles escaped you, as you finally leaned fully against him and returned his embrace, your arms wrapping around his torso as you buried your face against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, relaxing against him. “I…I’m just…”

“I know, love.” The way he called you ‘love’ all but melted your heart now that you were calmed down, pulling a faint smile to your lips. “I know. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. And if it’s any consolation, I was in the middle of telling that self-righteous blonde bimbo how my sweet, adorable, beautiful girlfriend would wring her neck if she kept putting her hands on me—“ He chuckled as you whined in protest of his praise, tugging you closer and grinning, meeting your eyes without hesitation.

He lifted his hand to your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek, the warmth of his gaze holding yours.

“I—“

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

You both jolted in alarm, your heads turning in unison toward the sound of the pounding on the bathroom door. Before you could so much as glance at each other, a gruff voice spoke up from behind the door.

“We’re in the weeds, Eggplant!” Zeff called . “Get your scrawny ass to the kitchen! And bring your damned girlfriend, we need all the help we can get.”

A long moment of silence stretched between the two of you as you both stared at the closed bathroom door, before your gazes drifted slowly toward each other.

Before you were both giggling under your breath, as you buried your forehead against his chest, a broad smile spreading across your lips as you clung to him.

“I suppose we’ve been summoned,” said Sanji, pulling back from you only enough to gaze down at you, still smiling. “Shall we, then?”

[tiredfox64]

Hi! I hope you are having a good day/evening! 🤩

If it's okay with you, I'd like to see a Shang Tsung (MK11 or Titan! Shang) x afab!powerful! reader fic. I was thinking of a character who is kind to friends, so much so that she seems harmless, but lethal to enemies 💚🐍

I ask you to imagine their first meeting and how things might evolve from there, trying to avoid the non-con as much as possible (I don't feel comfortable with it 😢)

Give vent to your imagination! 😍

Beauty Like A Butterfly, Pain Like a Wasp

Yip notes: Ugh we love gorgeous gorgeous men with a very petty attitude.

Pairing: Shang Tsung (MK11) x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: None...WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?

Could a creature ever be friendly but also deadly? Shang Tsung believed something like that was impossible. Perhaps a dog fits the criteria but never a person. He truly means friendly and kind. Not humble and peaceful like Liu Kang would portray. Someone who will make people smile with no ill will. Someone who draws people in with their aura and demeanor. But alas, he has never once found a person like that.

That was until Shang Tsung set his eyes on you.

You were as graceful and bloodthirsty as a butterfly. As kind and cuddly as a bumble bee with a wasp’s wrath. He has only seen such beauty in Sonya Blade, but never the same warm aura that you radiated. He believed your friendliness was a façade or a trick just like he would portray. But that mask never slipped off during the time you and him spent together.

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Shang Tsung’s first encounter with you was unforgettable because of how unexpected it was.

He journeyed through realms trying to find souls that might be a great addition to his collections. He hoped to find someone worthy to either trick into being his pawn or feasting upon their souls But all he could find were regular beings who had nothing extraordinary about them. Sure, some people looked like they had amazing strength but it was nothing compared to Goro or Kintaro. There was definitely nobody around who seemed to wield any magic. No one stood out just yet. He needed to wait. His patience would be rewarded.

You stood not too far away. You were among your friends, laughing and making them smile whenever you gained the chance. To them, you were the equivalent of an angel. You were the sweetest thing the gods could have given the world with your friendly demeanor and ability to make anyone your friend. The emo girl who usually sits alone is as much your friend as the guy who keeps going to jail for things he “supposedly” did. That’s the kind of person you are.

However, not everything about you is on the surface. Secrets lie even in honest and sincere people. They may not seem like secrets to you but to others, they believe they are since it’s a shock to them. This secret of yours will be revealed to Shang Tsung. Would you like some Netherrealm demons to help bring it out? They will show up in about 5…4…3…

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!”

…now.

You swiftly turned around and heard the ground crumble as many hands started clawing their way out. Soon, horns of many shapes and sizes emerged from this burning hole. There should be no reason for demons to emerge in the streets. But creatures from Netherrealm don’t play nice. If they want to invade a realm so badly they would. And right now they want to bring hell upon your home.

Fuck that noise.

You pushed your friends in a certain direction and told them to run without looking back. You watched as people ran around with these demons roaring and growling like the ferocious beasts they were. A switch flipped inside of you and that bright, cheerful attitude turned into one of aggression and hostility. Shang Tsung was not too far from the spectacle he was about to witness.

You bent down to grab a rock, no bigger than the palm of your hand. You observed it to make sure it would be stable enough for what you were about to do next. You reeled back like a baseball player while keeping your eye on the demon with the biggest horns.

The sound of meat being squished was heard as the demon fell to the ground, a hole blown through its head. The bits of rock went flying before landing in the puddle of blood that came seeping out.

This was…unexpected to say the least. Shang Tsung was not ready for that. He wondered if he blinked at the wrong time and missed what you did. Taking in context clues, he was able to determine what happened. You chucked that rock at Mach speeds and killed the demon on impact. The demon was dead in a matter of a millisecond. When he looked back up he saw you gesture to the rest of the pack to come at you. You were ready to eliminate the rest of them.

Shang Tsung kept a close eye on your display of ferociousness. These demons, who were much larger and were more muscular than you, were falling like flies. Hearts being ripped from chests, horns being used as weapons, skulls being smashed in, oh the blood bath was endless. Shang Tsung didn’t realize he was smiling at the performance in front of him. Even as you grew tired from the amount of demons you were dealing with he was delighted by the effort you were putting in. You were a rodeo bull who did not back down, you wanted to knock that rider off.

He felt like being nice that day so he decided to use his sorcery to help you out. You watched some of the demons burst into flames or being kicked down into pits of fire. You had no clue what was happening until Shang Tsung came into view. He moved fluently as he dodged everything the demons threw at him. Soon the pack of demons were nothing but corpses on the ground. Shang Tsung finished the job by opening a portal and sending the remains back to the Netherrealm. You stared in astonishment. You had no clue what just happened. All you knew was that this man near you was not normal.

“Uh thanks, stranger. I’m not sure what you did but it sure helped finish the job.” You tried your best to not sound confused since you thought it would be rude.

“That, my dear, was sorcery. It is clear to me that you do not need sorcery since you seem like a competent fighter. I watched you from the beginning and I must say, your performance was deliciously cold-blooded.” He spoke to you with a hypnotic voice that was luring you in ever so carefully as he circled you.

“Uhm, thanks?” You weren’t sure if you wanted to take that as a compliment.

He let out an amused chuckle at your confusion and possible innocence. He already sensed you were not someone faking their goodness like Sindel would do. You were clueless and that can be seen as cute at times. He stopped circling you like a vulture ready for prey to die and walked up to you.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Shang Tsung,” He took your hand and kissed the back of it. “May I ask who you may be?”

Both of you were hooked on each other for one reason or another. You gladly told Shang Tsung who you were. You saw this as a possibly interesting friendship if Shang Tsung would allow it. Will he actually be your friend or will he use you as a stepping stool to his supposed destiny?

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What have you done to this man? How can he be weakened like this?

Originally, Shang Tsung thought he would use you as another obedient subject that he could use as leverage to get his way. If he could trick Shao Kahn and Sindel, he could easily trick you as well. You would never view him as just a dog that had to listen to his master.

But that was the problem. You didn’t view him as anything negative.

Perhaps it was because he never involved you in his schemes to get Kronika’s crown or spoke about his distaste for certain people. Whatever it was that made you see him in a good light, he couldn’t believe it. All those who “trusted” him knew of his deceptive nature or they fully believed he would aid them all the way in their malicious plans. They were fools and risk-takers. He believed you were one of them until he started realizing the differences you portrayed.

You never asked for assistance on anything even if his sorcery could help. You trusted him fully without much thought of possible deception. If you weren’t acting like the others why are you still here?

Because he was your friend in your eyes. You gave him attention. You showed interest in his sorcery. Even when you two would spar you never got sore about losing. He was sore though after enduring millions of punches from you. He should never forget how powerful you are.

One of the moments that Shang Tsung thought about a lot was the first time he brought you to his island. He showed you his many treasures and special artifacts that he stored on the island. Many items caught your eye such as gold, jewels, and shiny stones. Something told him to test you and see how much you would take. You could take what you wanted, within reason of course. However, your words caught him off guard.

“Isn’t this yours? Why would I take it?”

You stumped him. He was silent as he looked at you with his eyebrows raised. He let out a little ‘hm’ before walking off. You caught up to him, wondering if you made the wrong decision. You actually made a decision he never knew was an option. He knew at that moment that you were just a friendly person. During the rest of the time on the island, you never took a piece of jewelry or a gold coin and pocketed it. You entered the island and left the island with the same items in your pockets.

You had cast an imaginary spell on Shang Tsung. A spell he could never do but you did it without effort. His image of you changed. You were no fool or a pawn. You weren’t a useless subject that he couldn’t use. You were just a woman who gave people chances. That must be why Shang Tsung began to fancy you.

He would invite you to his island multiple times, growing upset occasionally when you had to decline for something reasonable. He would even allow your friends to join you just so he could have a chance to be close to you. Of course, some areas were off-limits. Nobody should find out about the flesh pits.

This would result in your friends teasing you to no end. They would ask you why you haven't made him your rich boyfriend already. He has a freaking island and treasures. But you always told them you were fine with being friends with him, much to his dismay. You’re not blind though, you’ve seen how Shang Tsung’s attitude towards you has been changing. From his choice of words down to his tone, he has become more flirtatious and alluring. He wanted to give you many gifts and spend more time with you. It didn’t even matter if you were sweeping his feet with a kick or listening to him talk about a new trick he could pull off with his sorcery, he wanted you close.

This is ridiculous. He is acting like a coward. It’s time to be bold and officially make you his.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Another visit to his island, what will you two do?

Shang Tsung surprised you with a dress the moment you walked into his throne room. The dress was gorgeous. It matched your preferred style and was in your favorite color. This was your dream dress that you never knew you needed.

“I had this dress made just for you. It was sewn by the finest designers in Outworld. I think you should try it on.” He laid the dress across your arms.

The material was soft velvet with the inside being smooth silk. The textures were comfortable for you. You smiled widely before running out of the room to try on the dress. After about five minutes he heard the door open. You walked in slowly as you looked down at how the dress hugged your body. You looked up at Shang Tsung with that same wide smile being present on your face.

“I think it looks perfect on me. What do you think?” You asked.

He walked closer to you, his eyes taking in your natural beauty. His heart beat harder against his chest in a way he had never felt before. It was a mixture of attraction, excitement, and possibly…love. He can’t say for certain since love is foreign to him. He is only going off of the fact that you are the only one who has made him feel this way.

“Such beauty…” He whispered, “It is so rare, yet I was lucky enough to find it.”

He took your hand into his. The cold metal of his clawed glove grazed over your delicate skin before he brought your hand up to his lips. He kissed the back of your hand just like the first time you two met except this was different. This was not a formal introduction but a display of his interest in you. Even when the kiss was done he didn’t let go of your hand. You didn’t mind at all. It made you feel warm in your cheeks and tingly in your heart.

Your eyes stared into his. You never realize the light that began to show in his dark eyes. Even in the moonlight, they seemed to shimmer at the sight of you. If you knew who he was before you met him you would realize there was no cocky tone in his smile. There was no hint of judgment or aggression with the way his eyebrows were positioned. He does not look down on you. You are as equal as him.

You will be as powerful as him once he creates his New Era. Everyone else will be his subjects that he will use to conquer the realms. But not you. Never you. He would not dare change a thing about you. You are perfect the way you are. You will be his perfect wife who will rule all the realms by his side. Whatever you want will be yours.

Still gotta make her your girlfriend, genius.

“We should put that dress to good use. What do you say?” He suggested.

“Wait, was this your way of asking me out on a date?” You asked in a playful tone.

“Perhaps it was. That is up to you, my dear.”

“You are a tricky man, Shang Tsung. But you are also very charming. I think a date would be a wonderful idea.”

Alright, now the cocky and smug smirk has come back. You know how to get him started. He loves some good praise.

“Excellent choice. I will make sure you will never regret this.”

Yap notes: I'm going to eat his flesh. Adiós!