#unless I did upload and forgot

[totallybakedcake]

Us

Umemiya Hajime

A total softie

He absolutely loves giving physical affection as his love language, his hugs, kisses, and cuddles are equal to heaven.

Umemiya has this weird habit, he pulls you to his lap and then wraps you in his jacket, protecting you like a baby. He does it when you get too whiny, annoyed, or sad.

Is a great cook, he can make a delicious meal with random ingredients you hand him for fun.

"Ume, I want to eat this food item, it's going viral." The following meal, that same item is presented to you.

For dates, he prefers going to a deserted garden for a picnic.

He introduces you to furin, they even treat you like a younger sister that needs to be protected at all costs.

Umemiya honestly does not share a lot of fighting details with you, he does not want his partner to know about violence and gives many excuses or distracts you when asking about his injuries or fights.

Kiryu Mitsuki

Mitsuki always has the most fun ideas for some reason.

"Oh so my *girlfriend* is bored? Wanna do something from this list I made?"

He likes arcade dates or exploring new stores or places, it helps both of you understand each other's style and choices well.

His love language is gift giving, he gives you a rose, clothing piece, bracelet or just something each day.

Mitsuki and you would be the type to act as if you are cheating on each other by talking to someone else on the phone, saying stuff like, Don't tell this boyfriend or girlfriend, but in reality, you both are pranking the others.

Mitsuki really likes head pats/massages! He adores it so much when you lace your fingers in his hair.

Protects you at all costs!

Saved your name on his phone as "My pookie <3."

Haruka Sakura

Tsundere boy

He actually notices the little things, the way your hands start getting tense or you get sweaty when nervous, or how you are chatting to him on the phone and end every sentence with a heart.

He gives you stuff you wanted and forgot about, like the notebook you wanted for journaling or a mug and keychain with your pictures.

Goodness, his problem is that he gets so freaking shy while saying I love you.

"I love you." You say, giving him a kiss on the cheek before he leaves to go to Furin. "Me too," Sakura mumbles before leaving. Why was it so difficult to say a simple 'I love you' to his own girlfriend?

Don't worry, he says that to you when you are asleep.

Sakura's way of showing love is quality time, he does not sleep unless you both have had a late-night walk and talked for a bit, and he lets you vent about your day or feelings whenever you want to. Before leaving, he even spends a good hour just rambling about what his day might be like and asking you what you have planned.

well so, I did not expect windbreaker to win in the polls but yall proved me wrong. I haven't written for windbreaker since like 6 MONTHS which is so so crazy but now season 2 is coming back in July, I believe, so im tryna get in the groove once again!

I also want to say THANK YOU ALL!!

I found tumblr out of nowhere and had no idea that I would start writing my goofy thoughts and uploading them. Did not even imagine so many people would like them and even decide to follow me. I am so very grateful for everything, all the feelings of nervousness and anxiousness about uploading fanfics have gone so far away.

Have a very wonderful day:D

HOLD ON

Nobody told me that season 2 IS airing right now.

[erodasfishtacos]

A Touchdown & Tears (NFL!YN x Sports Photographer!YN)

prompt: a chipped tooth, bloody nose, and a whole lot of feelings for a young couple who couldn’t make it last.

word count: 4k

warnings: blood, angst, breakups

author's note:

I upload a piece of writing every 1-3 days.

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2-3 one shots (1-4kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 350 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

Tier II - $5 USD where you get access to every piece of writing!

you can check it out here!

--

Harry doesn’t think the first time that he would bump into his first girlfriend from high school would be when he’s given her a bloody nose and a chipped front tooth.

Hear him out.

It was playoffs, Harry was playing like a beast and at the rate he was going, he was leading his team to the Super Bowl.

Towards the end, the opposing team, The Steelers, were coming up to tie the game because their defense had been lacking this whole time.

There were only six seconds left in the game when Harry did a sneak move where he faked throwing the ball but ran it to the end zone instead to score another touchdown.

With the momentum that he was running, he was running right towards the line of photographers, cheerleaders, other staff that lined the field.

He was just about to dig his cleats in to the turf to stop himself but an angry player of the opposing team hits him hard from behind.

It was unexpected and it sends him flying forwards into the line of staff, he winces when he falls directly on someone, and he unfortunately hears his helmet hit their un-helmeted head.

A yelp of pain is emitted from the person below him, he quickly pushes himself up, and onto his knees beside the staff member.

And he’s startled for a myriad of reasons.

The blood.

The tears.

The fact that he was staring at his first love.

YN.

Harry’s first girlfriend, first love, and honestly he thought that she might be his one true love, soulmate.

They’d been broken up for three years.

Three long years.

But Harry thought about her nearly everyday, wondering what she was doing, where she lived, and when he was feeling down - who’s bed she was in at night.

YN had blocked him, on every platform, and never unblocked from Harry’s checking - only able to creep from a finsta account.

Harry was down bad for YN, always had been.

They started dating in eighth grade, freshly fifteen, and so in love that it was stupid.

Nobody thought they would last, who would?

It was puppy love.

But time went on and they’d never broken up.

They decided on the same school, Norte Dame where Harry would go on to excel in football as she would in creative arts and photography.

Harry would have to rush home from away football games to come to her art galleries, typically making the whole team come with him.

They were fine until middle of senior year.

The stress was at an all-time high.

Harry was up for the Heisman Trophy (which he won) and was being scouted by the NFL, all while leading headlines on ESPN.

YN was a sure thing in his mind, the most stable and unwavering aspect which meant that he put their relationship on the backburner.

Like it would always be there.

He was loyal to YN, never once even remotely came close to cheating, that’s not what he means by neglecting their relationship.

Harry stopped randomly showing up to the media room after practice, instead choosing to go right to his frat to sleep.

Harry didn’t want to ever stay at her dorm anymore because he was always achey and her bed sucked which meant unless she agreed to sleep at a rowdy frat, she slept alone.

YN tried to keep the spark alive but she felt it slipping through her fingertips as Harry forgot to even mention that he got a sponsorship for Under Armor.

Harry was disconnected from everything but football.

He expected YN to deal with it, until it settled, and he got a spot in the NFL, then they could be perfect again.

He was stupid, greedy, and unfair to the person he loved most on this earth.

It came to a head when Harry was laying in his bed, a container of meal prepped chicken and rice on his stomach that he ate while watching a new Netflix series.

He hadn’t checked his phone, it had been on silent all day, and he didn’t have the energy to look at the damn thing.

Until his bedroom door comes swinging open and his girlfriend comes barging into the room with tear tracks down her cheeks.

She was dressed beautifully in a tailored suit with a structured bodysuit underneath.

Her makeup was smeared around her eyes but he was sure it looked impeccable before the tears had started.

“What the fuck?” Harry sits up instantly, going completely protective when he demands, “What happened? Who made you cry?”

YN doesn’t run into his arms like he expected when he opened them fo her.

No, instead she crosses them over her chest.

“You, you fucking did,” YN’s voice cracked on the last syllable, “I’ve been there for every important event for you. Even the less important ones, Harry. Since we were fifteen. You-you couldn’t even be bothered to care about the most important night of my college career.”

Harry feels a heart-stopping chill wash over him, like someone had just poured a gallon of ice on his body.

“Fuck, baby,” Harry starts to apologize, sitting up and uncaring when his dinner topples onto the floor and spills, “I can’t believe-“

It was her final presentation.

YN has been chosen to present her photographs in a gallery in the city, only two student got chosen, and she was one of them.

She’d been working on this project since the start of the year, it was her baby, and she had put her blood, sweat, and tears into it.

Harry hadn’t shown.

“I tried calling, texting, and you were just sitting in your bed? Carefree as fuck, huh?” YN laughs but neither of them think this is any part comical.

To hear the curse words leaving her mouth was odd.

Harry was the one in the relationship to have the mouth of a sailor, hearing it from YN in this context was almost…scary.

“No, baby. S’not like that,” Harry feels his throat tightening because he knows he’s fucked up, for the last few months, and this…this was bad.

“I can’t anymore, Harry,” YN sniffles as she blinks up at the ceiling, willing her tears to stop, “You haven’t been my Harry for the last eight months. I’ve been trying to be understanding but I don’t think you realize how poorly you’ve been treating me.”

“I can make it up to you, nut,” Harry tries desperately, standing up but hesitating when she takes a step back.

Nut- her nickname since they were in grade school.

YN bites her lip, the tears were uncontrollable, “This time, I don’t think you can. Harry, you haven’t come to one of my exhibits this year, you forgot our anniversary until the middle of that day, and haven’t once made plans for us. It’s always me now.”

Harry has a disgusting, sinking feeling because he knew that she was absolutely right.

“If you had fallen out of love with me, wh-why did you string me along?” YN asks quietly, he’d never heard her sound so broken, so tired, and hopeless.

“Don’t,” Harry gets louder, “Don’t you dare fuckin’ say that. I am so in love with you. Everyday it’s more and more.”

YN swallows down a sob, “I don’t want to be in a relationship where this is how someone shows me they love me. You’ve changed. You promised me football wouldn’t change you. You fucking promised me!”

“It’s hasn’t!” Harry defends sharply but he knows she’s right and he’s so disappointed in himself at this.

YN dabs her eyes with the heel of her hand, “I’m done, Harry. I love you. I imagined marriage, kids, my entire future with you. I…I can’t be with someone who goes out to a bar with their teammates while I’m begging you for attention and end up sitting in my dorm all alone.”

Harry shakes his head, “No! You’re not breaking up with me! You’re not fucking throwing away our relationship! It’s been fucking eight years!”

“I didn’t throw it away,” YN argues softly, her gentle tone makes it ten times worse because he knows she’s being rational, not emotionally driven, “You threw it away over and over again while I tried to pick up the pieces.”

“YN, this isn’t over,” Harry is yelling at this point, his heart was feeling like it was about to explode and there were fat tears streaming down his face, “Im not letting you fucking do this! To us!”

Harry isn’t thinking when he steps in front of the door, panicked and desperate to just have her listening, “We’re working it out.”

A knock and the door jolts open, a few of his teammates who had clearly been listening give their captain a serious look.

“H, you have to let her leave,” Niall says in a unsually subdued tone.

“Fuck off and mind your own god damn business,” Harry growls at him, his anger was uncharacteristic and frightening for the normally happy-go-lucky man.

“C’mon, YN,” Liam waves her over, giving Harey a firm look as he escorts her out of his room, “I’ll give you a lift home.”

-

Harry doesn’t sleep.

Harry destroys his room.

He breaks his most prized trophy.

His frat brothers throw him a party to cheer him up.

Harry gets so drunk that he sees double of everything.

He doesn’t know what’s going on as a girl shuts his bedroom door, giggling, and sloppily kissing at his neck.

He doesn’t like it.

It’s not YN.

He is about to tell her that when the door opens again to YN standing there with the most heart-shattering expression on he face.

“It’s been less than a day, Harry,” YN can’t stop the tears, devastated as she looks between the two of them, “I should have known I made the right choice. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

Harry pushes the girl off but YN already disappeared and he can’t find her anywhere in house.

He stumbles back upstairs and passes out, never feeling so low in his entire life.

-

Harry has a massive bouquet of flowers as he knocks on her dorm room door.

When YN opens it, she looks awful with dark circles from lack of sleep, bloodshot eyes, and greasy hair from lack of shower.

“Baby, please please please,” Harry begs as he presents the flowers, “I know I’ve been fucking up but I can’t lose you.”

YN doesn’t react to the flowers, “You’re six months too late, Harry. This gesture would have meant something then. I was considering my decision and then I saw you with that girl last night.”

“I was drunk and we didn’t-“

“Did you cheat on me? During our relationship?” YN’s voice shakes and he fucking hates that she’s even questioning him on that.

“What? Never. Not even close. When would I have had time? I was trying to get it in with you every second I got,” Harry tells her, it was true, he was obsessed with her, her body, her personality.

YN doesn’t look like she believes him and that feels like a dagger through the center of his heart and twisting it.

“I wish you the best, H.”

“No,” Harry nearly whimpers, he steps forward, dropping the flowers and gripping her jaw, searing their lips together.

Surprisingly, YN doesn’t pull away, just grips his biceps and digs her fingertips in enough that it stings.

“Please, I can never love someone like I love you,” Harry whispers against her lips, tasting her tears as they fall.

“Then you’ll have to learn,” YN replies simply, stepping out of his grip and shutting the door on him.

++

That was three years ago.

Since then Harry had some hookups, two very casual relationships, and despite how much he tried to love someone like he loved YN it had never happened.

So as he kneels in front of her, he falls right into familiarity and actions, moving into her space and putting his hands on her shoulders, “Tilt your head back, nut.”

The nickname just naturally rolled off his tongue.

YN listens, she felt like she was about to have a panic attack from the pain radiating through the center of her face.

“Hu-hurts,” YN gasps as Harry helps her tilt her head, he’s pulling off his jersey with his free hand, struggling a bit but he’s trying to wipe the blood off of her face and neck.

“I know, just hold on. The medics are coming,” Harry soothes as he thumbs over her jaw.

Everything felt a bit surreal.

If he ever doubted that YN was the love of his life, it was reaffirmed as he got coated in her blood, her nose absolutely gushing.

“Is this payback for me breaking up with you?” YN manages to crack a joke even though she’s in pain, that’s his fucking girl.

Harry lets an embarrassingly honking laugh as he shakes his head, “Never in a million years. I can’t -“

“Move please,” One medic orders but soon enough, Harry is being shuffled out of the way and his coaches are dragging him back to the team sideline.

The game was over, YN was carted away on one of the little trucks, and Harry had never been so inattentive in a post-game meeting.

None of the compliments, kudos, praise about his game-winning touchdown even registered because he was freaking out about YN.

Harry cancels his plans to attend the after party.

Then he bribes the one medic with season passes to tell him which hospital they sent YN to.

Harry doesn’t think anything through.

He speeds to the hospital, parks without paying, and rushing into the emergency department to the front desk.

The very very old receptionist has absolutely no clue who he is which is perfect.

“I’m here, looking for YN LN,” Harry drums his fingertips against the counter anxiously.

“You have to be on her visitor list to be able to go back and see her,” The woman, Ronda from her name tag, mutters robotically.

Fuck.

He didn’t even think about that.

There’s no chance.

Ronda clicks her mouse a few times, “Only one name on her list.”

Harry knows it’s going to be her mom or dad.

“Are you…” Ronda squints, taking her glasses off to look, “Uh, Harold?”

Harry has to bite his lip because of course that’s what she put his name in as.

Just like she did at every restraunt that had a waitlist or every time he went into pick up their takeout at a cafe.

“Yes,” Harry coughs to disguise his laugh, pulling out his drivers license to show as proof.

++

Harry was holding his breath, wondering why she put his name on the list, was this going to break his heart even further?

Harry knocks of the doorframe before stepping in, YN was sat up in the hospital bed, and watching a trashy reality television show.

“Surprised my name was on the list,” Harry starts quietly, shutting the door behind him and loitering near it.

“I…I didn’t know if you would come,” YN looks down at her hands, shrugging sheepishly, embarassed, “But I was hoping. I don’t know, it was stupid of me. You’re this big ole’ famous star and -“

“And I will always have time for you. I’d never make that mistake twice,” Harry interrupts her, only taking a few more steps in.

“I…it hurts to see you,” YN admits as she swallows harshly, a telltale sign that tears would be coming.

Harry bites his lip, he felt just as choked up, “I can’t even tell you what it’s like to see you again. God, I’ve just never seen anybody as beautiful as you.”

YN rolls her eyes, “You were dating a Victoria’s Secret model.”

“No, I went on one date with her. That’s it and it was for publicity anyways,” Harry corrects her and it was the truth, “What did the doctor say?”

“I have to go see an oral surgeon about my tooth. He said my nose was severely bruised but no broken bones. I’m just waiting to see about my concussion test. I’ll be discharged tomorrow morning.”

“I am so sorry, nut," Harry sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose in sympathy.

“I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Hell, I don’t even know if you’re dating anyone but I have one thing to ask,” YN sits up a bit straighter, he could tell she was nervous.

“Anything,” Harry agrees breathlessly, his hands clenching at his side.

“Lay with me. Hold me tonight, please,” YN begins to tear up, wiping at her eyes, “I miss you everyday. I know it’s a lot to ask or if you have places to be-“

“I canceled everything for tomorrow already,” Harry confesses as he moves forward, “Even if I didn’t. I would drop everything to stay here with you. I’ll hold you for as long as you’ll let me.”

YN squirms over as much as possible to give Harry room, he kicks off his tennis shoes, and crawls onto the bed until he’s on his back.

YN turns on her side, facing towards him, hand resting over his heart, and nuzzling her face delicately to be mindful of her nose in his neck.

He feels hot tears drop from her face onto his skin and all he can do is hold her, slipping a hand under her shirt and rubbing at the warm skin of back.

“M’here, I’m right here,” Harry murmurs shakily, overwhelmed as he buries his own face in her hair and begins to tear up.

God, he fucking missed her.

And more importantly, the scariest thing was confirmed for him.

He’s never, even for a moment, fallen out of love with her.

++

[churipu]

hi i wanted to ask since your requests are open but can u write abt jjk guys (gojo, geto and maybe megumi as well) and how it would be like arguing with them? thank youuu~

ARGUMENTS WITH JJK MEN ˚｡𖦹

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x reader

warnings. cursing on toji's :)

note. hi nonnie, megumi's been done and you can just click right there to be directed to the said post — so, i'm going to change him to his father jsksdjdk. anyways, i'm so sorry this came out so late, i hope you like it. i was going to focus on my 1k event but then i realized that i'm holding up the requests in my inbox, so i'm going to try to upload them together one by one. / and ngl, i just did my nails done for the first time, aND I AM STRUGGLING TO DO ANYTHING. including typing, but i'm trying my best skdjs.

GOJO SATORU. arguments with him are just plain loud. for instance, we all know how gojo is, he'd be so petty during arguments. despite that though — i feel like he won't ever raise his voice at you, he's petty, yes. but he won't do anything that could scare you, raising his voice.

believe me when i say that he won't back down when he isn't in the wrong. he will argue back if you're wrong; and even with all that banter, both you and gojo will always resolve it together. he won't let you leave or turn away to discard the argument. gojo hates it when you give him the silent treatment — so he tries his best to not let you leave unless everything is talked about, face to face.

"satoru, i'm just saying that i didn't mean to do that. okay? i didn't even realize it!" you tell him, voice loud and bold.

gojo looks at you, brows furrowed, "this is the second time y/n, i'm sure you realize that — you're not a child anymore." you grumbled under your breath.

the past few days have been stressful. hectic for you. you knew though it wasn't an excuse, but when things get too caught up — you lose track of things, and honestly, you wanted nothing to do but to sleep and take a rest. work has been taking a big toll on you, both mentally and physically — and you can't bring yourself to argue with gojo right now.

"satoru, i know. it's just, things have been stressful at work. i'm sorry i forgot to turn off the stove," you tell him genuinely sorry that you almost, possibly burn the whole house down if he hadn't been the one to realize that, "i'm sorry, okay?"

his gaze softened. regaining control over the rhythm of his breathing, gojo reaches out to you, "d'you wanna talk about it?"

you shook your head, "i just wan' to sleep, satoru. i'm tired." he buries his nose into your hair before tossing you over his shoulder, you didn't complain at the way he decided to carry you — you just wanted to go to bed and sleep the night away.

the male held you close as he climbed your shared bed, "'m sorry too," he mumbles, grazing his lips over your forehead.

"you don't have to be, it's my fault for being reckless," you replied, draping an arm over his torso, clutching his black shirt, "can we sleep now?"

gojo chuckles, "mhm. good night," he whispers, "i love you."

you smiled at him, burying your face into his chest, "good night 'toru. i love you more."

GETO SUGURU. arguments with geto can be pretty frustrating, although he never raises his voice at you. he just knows what to say, and he's always right too. whether it being about you forgetting to throw the trash out (once), or you being forgetful about some things — geto just knows the right words to say to you, without making you feel like you're doing something wrong.

see, the thing is in the house. you both divided your chores, geto does the dishes, and the mopping. you do the laundry and vacuuming. while the morning trash is yours, and he does it nightly.

he's usually never in the wrong. most of the time. but when he is, he will admit so. in conclusion, you don't argue with him often, because he will apologize if he knows he did something wrong. but this was on rare occasions.

today is one of those rare occasions. you swore you had left the house clean — and you remembered throwing the trash before you leave for work. yet, here he was, asking you about it.

"suguru, i promise i threw it in the morning. before i left for work," you tell him, taking off your shoes and putting it neatly on the shoe rack. having to come back home from work, you just wanted to eat dinner, have a nice warm bath, and sleep.

god, you hated arguments. you admitted that you sometimes forget to throw the trash out while rushing to go to work, but that was not intentional at all.

geto had asked your prior about it. you knew he wasn't sparking an argument, but the thing is — you remembered it well. going out of the door this morning while holding a plastic of waste, hell, you even remembered bumping into a neighbor on the way out.

"just . . . let me throw it out again—" geto has been awfully silent for the past few minutes, and when you approached the trash can, he immediately stops you.

his hand latching around your wrist gently as he pulls you over, "no, no. it's my fault, i remember now. i was the one who threw that in the trash can after you left," he said to you in an apologetic tone, "'m sorry."

you shook your head, "it's okay, it's just a misunderstanding. and it's not like you intentionally forgot about it, right?" he nods his head mutely, pulling you into a silent embrace, "y'okay sugu?"

"the next time i do that — i want you to smack me in the face, okay?" you chuckled, placing a wet kiss onto his lips.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. i don't know how to say it — he's just accepts his fate and does whatever you want him to do. he thinks arguments are a complete waste of time, it's not like he likes arguing with you in the first place. he just doesn't see a point to it since he never initiates the talking; you always do. but that's because he did things that sparked the said argument. you reap what you sow.

toji can be lazy sometimes. scratch that. most of the time. clothes sprawled out in the living room, on the kitchen counter which he claimed he forgot when he was grabbing water, on the couch, on the headboard of your bed, on the bathroom sink. and honestly, he's a grown man — he knows better than that.

"toji, how many times do i have to tell you—"

"put the dirty laundry in their place, yeah, y'reminded me that like . . . three times today." he grumbled under his breath as he yawned out loudly.

"then why are you still leaving them everywhere? god, this is so childish! it's like 'm taking care of a fucking baby," toji lets out a sigh, "i'm so tired of telling you over and over again. you're a grown man, why can't you act like one?"

toji's not dumb. he knows it's his mistake, and sometimes he genuinely forgets about leaving his shirt out while being too preoccupied with other things. he loves you, he really does. the last thing he'd like is you leaving him because he can't stop his habit of leaving his shirt everywhere.

he approaches you, taking the shirt out of your grip, "my fault."

"damn right it is. the next time i see another shirt, i swear to god, you're sleeping on the couch." you muttered out, crossing your arms — watching as the male meekly trotted into the bathroom where the laundry basket rested beside the bathroom cabinet.

"is that a threat?" he chuckles, peeking his head out.

"no. it's a warning."

he walks out of the bathroom, slithering an arm around your waist, hoisting you up onto his shoulder as he walked towards the couch. prepping you on his lap, "mm. noted, can you stop getting mad at me now?" he comments, grazing his finger over your neck.

and he did it again at night (and slept on the couch like you warned him, he still hates you for that).

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[warpdrive-witch]

why are you using AI to write your fics? it is very obvious. first with “It Worked.” it is impossible to write that many words in just a couple of months. now your latest smut that you posted on here. you should know that all of your fanfictions are flagged by AI checkers.

when will it end?

Let’s make something extremely clear. I don’t use AI for my writing. At all. That accusation is fucking bullshit and I can’t believe that you had the audacity to accuse me of it.

I’m a PhD student. When I write, I fucking write. It’s not “impossible” just because you or others can’t do it. Again, accusing me of using AI because you feel like it’s impossible is another fucking level of audacity. It’s summer break, and you know what I’m doing all day? Writing. Fics I have been working on for months, fics I had outlined while in my semester and wrote in my spare time while teaching/research/ family time/ and just trying to be a functional person. I also don’t owe you an explanation on why/how I do things. So let’s make sure you understand that going forward. Not just for me, but for other writers you have said this bullshit to.

Now let’s talk about AI checkers. As an academic who has worked with them, do you know how absolutely faulty they are? I’m also pissed you felt the need to upload my work to an AI checker, which I did not give you permission to do, and you have now allowed AI to have access to my work and ideas that I worked months on, which other people could now be used as an example for AI. So real big thanks for that. NOW if someone uploaded my work and checked again, guess what, it’s gonna show as fucking AI because you couldn’t believe a queer woman could write like I do. Fanfuckingtastic.

If you use Grammarly to help with spell check (I have a processing disorder and a few other things) to catch missteps or my dyslexia misspellings, it could pop up. Hell, if you use spell check on Word it can be flagged by AI. All that to say, academics in the field have stopped using checkers because of this. Unless you have undeniable proof of someone using AI (I had a student that forgot to erase the “absolutely, let’s make this more direct) statement, you can’t say they used it.

Let’s be also add this for others who accuse writers of using AI. This right here is why people stopped uploading to Tumblr & only allowing comments and readers on AO3 who have a profile. This right here is why writers stop posting. All because people like you had the audacity to accuse their writing and plots for AI.

I’m still flabbergasted that you uploaded all my fics to AI. I just…. Wow.

Fuck you and your AI checker.

[fernsplace]

SECRETS *ೃ༄

summary: you befriend a mysterious transfer student at stanford. after months of hanging out, you still know almost nothing about him. he disappears some days, showing back up worn down and tattered. you've finally had it. pairing: stanford!sam x f!reader (no use of y/n) word ct: 1.9k content: cw: suggestive ending. sam angst. fluff. soft!sam. secret identity trope. she falls first lowkey. mystery. dean mention?

you meet sam on a thursday.

he's new. sits in the back of the lecture hall, tall frame, but hunched over in his book. flannel sleeves pushed to his elbows, fingers wrapped around a coffee cup that never leaves his hand. he never comes in late, but always leaves early. there’s something about the way he listens, eyes focused, lips slightly parted like he’s starving for knowledge.

you notice him because you’re always the first to arrive. and he notices you, because you hold the door when it tries to slam shut behind you. he murmurs a quiet thanks every time. voice like molasses. eyes that linger.

you don’t talk until week three.

"hey," he says one day when you're both caught in the hallway traffic. "do you know if he uploads the slides somewhere? i missed monday."

you tell him yes. he smiles a soft smile. crooked. not practiced. not perfected.

he introduces himself as sam.

just sam.

—

you two grow closer. shared notes. study partners. he’s brilliant, but reserved. like his brain is a library and you're only allowed to check out one book at a time. he never talks about himself unless you ask directly, and even then, the answers are vague.

he has a brother, older. he travels a lot. his childhood was “weird.” he likes research. hates when people call attention to his height. doesn’t drink much. hasn’t dated in a while. religious? maybe catholic? ambiguous?

you ask him what he did before transferring here.

he shrugs. “odd jobs.” he doesn’t elaborate.

—

there’s a quiet sort of comfort that settles between you. you don’t push, and he doesn’t offer. still, he always remembers how you like your coffee. he walks you home when it’s late. he listens better than anyone ever has.

sometimes, you catch him watching you. like he's memorizing your features, as if he’s scared you’ll vanish if he looks away.

you pretend not to notice how fast your heart beats when he’s near.

—

you don’t realize something’s wrong until the night he disappears. you had left his dorm after a late night studying, forgetting your textbook on his old rug. you couldn’t be bothered to go back, mental and physical exhaustion overtaking you. so, you opted to send a quick text:

hey, forgot my textbook on your floor. can u bring it tomorrow pls?

but he never shows.

you sent another text. half teasing him for sleeping in, half pissed because you spent the entire class looking over the shoulder of the student in front of you.

a day goes by. then two.

you don’t want to seem clingy, but it’s unlike him.

he shows up again five days later. tired. bruised. there’s a thin cut across his cheekbone and he looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. his under eyes are sunken and dull.

you stare at him in the library, stunned.

"what the hell happened to you?"

he blinks, shrugging his shoulders. "oh. uh. got mugged."

you lift your hand to cup his cheek. thumb brushing lightly over the maroon blemishes. his eyelashes flutter softly. he lifts his own hand, placing it on yours. he tilts his head back, trying to escape your touch. he feels bad, but his pain is seering.

“jesus,” you breathe. “are you okay?”

he nods. doesn’t meet your eyes. "i’m fine."

he’s not.

—

after that, the gaps start to grow. he vanishes for days, then shows up again like nothing happened. sometimes he looks fine. sometimes he looks like he’s been dragged through hell.

he won’t let you question him. he dismisses it, changes the topic, says that he wants to go to bed and he’ll talk later.

one night, you call him out.

"you’re lying to me."

you're standing outside the dining hall, half-finished tea cooling in your hand. he freezes.

"what are you talking about?" he asks softly, eyes blinking rapidly.

“you disappear and come back with bruises. you flinch when people slam doors. you always carry a knife—don’t think i haven’t noticed. and last week, i saw you picking a lock on the back door of the chem lab like you’d done it a hundred times before.”

you had to force your eyes to stay on his. you had to be heard. you needed the truth.

sam’s jaw tightens. the silence grows thick. he shifts his weight from foot to foot. you can tell he’s uncomfortable.

you step forward, voice shaking. “i don’t care if you’re running from something, sam. i can try to help. but if you’re dangerous—”

“i’m not,” he says quickly. “i wouldn’t hurt you. ever.” he shakes his head and he locks eyes with you. he steps forward, a gentle hand mediating between you.

“then tell me.”

his eyes search yours. something breaks behind them. they’re glassy. he lets out a long, shaky breath. his mind is racing. meanwhile, you tremble with worry.

“okay,” he says. “but not here.”

—

you don’t expect monsters. you expect “i’m in a gang” or “i’m running from the cops.” hell, you thought nothing would shock you. you thought you’d come up with every possible justification for his absences.

ghosts. demons. vengeful spirits. shapeshifters. all real. and he’s been hunting them since he was a boy.

you blink at him in stunned silence. he's standing in the middle of his dorm room, fingers clenched at his sides like he’s bracing for you to scream.

instead, you chuckle nervously. has he gone insane? “that’s… absurd. you’re crazy.” he just looks at you.

“you think i’m kidding.” his voice is a bit louder now, getting defensive. your faux smile drops and you weren’t quite sure how to proceed.

he pulls a battered leather journal from his backpack and places it on the bed next to you. you pull it onto your lap and flip through the pages. it's filled with drawings. sigils. yellow notes written in a spidery hand. names, dates, locations. photos.

you brush a finger over a page titled wendigo, heart beating faster. it all seemed so sinister. so real.

you look up at him through your eyelashes, lips parted in shock.

“this is real,” you whisper.

he nods once. solemn. his eyes are almost apologetic. regretful. “yeah.”

“and you kill these things?”

he nods again, taking a slow seat next to you.

you breath a hard breath out and close the journal slowly.

“why the fuck would you come to college? aren’t you worried about like— the fucking world ending?”

you’re breathless. you run your hand through your hair and swallow hard.

he runs a hand over his mouth. “to feel normal. to be someone else for once.”

you believe him.

you shouldn’t.

but you do.

“sam…” you trail off, eyes distant. he places a gentle hand on the small of your back, his thumb brushing softly over your shirt.

“hey, listen to me.” he speaks slow and soft, tilting his head to meet your eyes. “i won’t let anything hurt you. you can trust me.”

—

you keep his secret. and in return, he keeps you safe.

he starts staying over at your dorm more. not in your bed, not at first. just in your room, sleeping on on pile of blankets on the floor, boots near the door. you offered to buy an air mattress, but he claims he’s slept on worse. you catch him murmuring in his sleep sometimes. latin, was it? other times, he startles awake gasping, eyes wide, heart pounding.

you let him stay anyway.

you ask him to teach you how to protect yourself. despite this news of monsters laying heavy on your chest— like your world has completely shrunken, you couldn’t help but be curious.

he doesn’t want to teach you, but he does. slow at first. baby steps. pepper spray. salt lines. a silver knife.

you see more of the hunter in him after that. the part of him that sharpens into something lethal when there’s a threat. the way his eyes darken when someone gets too close. the way his hand always finds yours, grounding, when things get loud.

he saves a family in the next town over. a poltergeist. doesn’t tell you until he’s back and sore and covered in bruises.

“you’re going to get killed,” you whisper, pressing an ice pack to his temple. his hand brushes along your arm.

he doesn’t argue. he thinks somehow, that he always knew god wasn’t watching over him. but it was something much more evil. maybe a demon, the devil, even. or maybe death himself.

he watches you. long and careful.

“you still like me?” he asks softly. a teasing smile sits on face.

“yeah,” you breathe. “i do.”

he leans forward then. testing. you feel his cool breath along your teeth. mint. and when you don’t pull away, his lips brush yours. slow, like he’s unsure if you’re really there.

you kiss him back. his touch is like silk. you feel your cheeks grow warm and your body melts into his. your hands reach for his hair as his move to your waist. he’s tender in his touch.

he parts his legs, allowing you to move your body closer. he needs you close. to feel you near him. you tug his hair lightly and a quiet, just barely audible groan leaves his lips.

you smile against his lips. this boy just keeps surprising you.

in this moment, you feel real. and sam, he feels normal. calm. he’s not in fight or flight. now, he’s here. and he’s yours. tomorrow, he might find himself in the middle of vamp nest, or tied up in a basement. but right now, he’s with you. he vows to himself to protect you. and to not become a monster himself.

—

lowkey not a fan of the ending, but it’s getting late. i love soft sam so much nobody understands.

planning on writing some darker, grungier fics i think!

anyway, send me some fic prompts to angel radio!

[elyslynn]

The Unseen Link.03

Young Justice x GN! (Psychic/Meta) Reader

AN: Keeping these shorter I had free time today so double upload. pls be nice in the notes don't kill me pls. This part is mainly just reader growing into the team.

Word Count: 2.0k

ৎ୭︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ৎ୭‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ৎ୭︵‿︵ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Five weeks later…

Mount Justice has begun to feel like something you never thought you'd find again: a home.

Your room is tucked in one of the quieter wings of the mountain — a space that once echoed with emptiness now, your room in Mount Justice doesn't feel like a bunker anymore.

It feels like you.

Soft string lights stretch lazily across the ceiling, casting a golden glow over the space. Mismatched furniture — a wide reading chair, a [F/C] throw blanket, a low vintage desk — gives it a quiet warmth. A hand-woven [F/C}  rug sprawls across the floor, furnished with a bookshelf to help cure your endless curiosity. The smell of lavender and old books clings to the air.

Plants spill from pots on shelves, reaching toward the light. Some bloom in hues that don’t exist in catalogs — their petals formed from lingering fragments of memory you tucked gently into soil. Beside them, a gallery of photographs lines the wall. Moments frozen. Tangible memories.

You often sit cross-legged on your bed, an old Polaroid camera in hand, snapping candid shots of the team when they least expect it.

A photo of Wally mid-fall during training.

One of M’gann laughing, flour on her face from a baking accident.

A blurry but warm one of Kaldur meditating by the pool.

Even Superboy — scowling in the background of a group photo, but present.

They pretend to be annoyed. But no one takes the photos down.

ৎ୭︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ৎ୭‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ৎ୭︵‿︵ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

You meet weekly with Black Canary in the quietest room of the mountain. No cameras. No questions. Just honesty.

She asks careful questions. You don’t always answer. But you try.

You talk about the experiments — how they used your power like a scalpel. How they made you forget yourself.

You tell her the hardest part isn’t what they did — it’s what you don’t know they did.

She listens. She simply just listens. Which honestly felt amazing.

You talk about Facility 13 — not in a linear way. It comes in fragments, like burned pages of a book you’re still piecing together. You talk about what it means to have your own mind rewritten, and worse — the minds of others used like clay under your fingers.

You describe your powers not as “abilities,” but as instincts. You don’t control memory — you navigate it. You don’t create hallucinations — you remind the world of things it forgot.

In your fourth session, she invites Martian Manhunter.

You’re wary at first.

But when he touches your mind, you let him in — just a little.

And that’s enough to stagger him.

He flinches, eyes widening. “You... you see memory not as sequence but as structure. Architecture. Your psychic field is not shaped like a mind. It's shaped like a library.”

His voice lowers, awe threaded with unease. “You could reshape perception... without a single invasive thought.”

You look away. “That’s why it’s dangerous. And why I don’t use it unless I have to.”

He nods slowly — not in fear, but in respect.

“I’ve met telepaths. Empaths. Psychic architects. But I’ve never met a Remnant Weaver.”

And in your fifth session, she says: “Pain doesn’t make you weak. It just proves you survived.”

You believe her. Not entirely. But you’re learning to try.

ৎ୭︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ৎ୭‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ৎ୭︵‿︵ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

While living on Mount Justice for just over a month now you’ve gotten the chance to bond with your teammates and understand them better.

Robin doesn’t talk much at first, but one night, he leaves a small memory stick on your desk labeled "Old Security Footage – Gotham Academy Fire." You know it’s his quiet way of saying: You didn’t hallucinate. It happened. I believe you. 

  Robin also has started slipping you small tech from time to time — old servers, scavenged encryptions. You don’t ask why. He just says, “Might help with your memory board project.”

Kid Flash bugs you with relentless energy, asking if you can “memory-scan” the answers to a pop quiz. When you refuse, he says, “Worth a shot,” and later brings you a smoothie in apology. “You like strawberry, right? I mean—probably, right?” 

Kid Flash still pesters you, but now brings you weird candies from around the world and challenges you to photo scavenger hunts.

Miss Martian asks if you can see Martian memories. You try once — gently — and glimpse a red sky and a lullaby sung in a language that makes your bones ache. She cried a little, being overwhelmed with the feeling of homesickness . She hugs you almost immediately you can feel her start to cry into your shirt.

Miss Martian invites you to share minds again. You both explore a Martian childhood together one afternoon — but she lets you lead the way this time. She trusts you now.

Superboy doesn’t say much, but one day in the training room, he offers you a sparring glove without a word. You accept. His version of “you belong.”

Superboy watches you more than he speaks. But one night, you both sit in the gym long after training. No words. Just silence. A quiet understanding. Two people shaped in labs, made by force instead of choice.

When you finally say, “I used to wonder if I was even real,” he answers softly, “Still do.”

And neither of you feel alone anymore.

Artemis catches you taking a photo of her mid-stretch and glares. “Delete it.”

You do fairly quickly… not wanting to be on her bad side. But the next day, she hands you a much better, posed photo of herself with the note: “This one’s less ugly. Use it instead.”

Artemis lets you photograph her again — no notes this time. Just a smirk. She even frames one and puts it in her own room. It says more than she ever would out loud.

Aqualad checks in on you weekly. Not out of duty — out of respect. “Your insight is different,” he says once. “Like seeing from above and below at the same time.” It’s the most poetic thing anyone’s said about your powers.

ৎ୭︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ৎ୭‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ৎ୭︵‿︵ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Eventually-  You joined the team in training mainly consisting of simulations and team building exercises, but still even in training you got to show off just how versatile and an asset you can be.

For example last week:

The team is mid-mission in a VR sim: surrounded by LexCorp combat bots, shielded and unrelenting.

You press your hand to the ground.

The bots pause.

Then the world begins to melt.

Their sensors flicker. The sterile battlefield dissolves into a surreal ocean-scape — jellyfish floating midair, schools of fish darting through invisible currents, coral blooming through the walls.

They stagger, blinking in synthetic confusion.

And from behind them, you step forward.

Softly.

Calmly.

And say: “You were programmed to protect this place. But this place doesn’t exist anymore.” you remind them of a time when they didn’t exist to protect LexCorp — but to destroy it.

They hesitate.

Then turn on each other.

One by one, they tear themselves apart — not with violence, but like a dream ending mid-thought.

The sim ends.

“Okay,” Wally says, flat on his back. “That was... haunting. But also amazing.”

Robin whistles low. “Mental warfare without a single shot fired. That’s terrifying.”

You just dust off your hands. “They forgot what they were. I reminded them.”

ৎ୭︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ৎ୭‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ৎ୭︵‿︵ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

That night, the mountain goes quiet.

Until the hangar doors hiss open.

Batman steps out, every movement precise. The shadows bend around him like armor.

The team gathers, alert.

“A LexCorp storage facility on the outskirts of Blüdhaven has gone dark,” he says. “Locals report hallucinations. Objects appearing where they shouldn’t. Time glitches. Memory spikes.”

You feel a cold crawl down your spine.

He continues. “This will be your first supervised field mission. [Y/N], you’re coming.”

A moment of silence.

Aqualad nods. “Understood.”

You glance at the camera hanging from your neck. The same one you’ve used since arriving. You load in a fresh cartridge of film.

Because even in chaos, some memories are meant to be kept.

The team disperses from the hangar slowly, the weight of Batman’s mission still lingering in the air like smoke.

Outside the bioship, the evening is unusually calm. The sky is brushed with that deep indigo just before full night, stars peeking through like scattered thoughts. The mountain’s launch pad hums quietly beneath your feet.

You sit cross-legged near the ramp, your camera resting in your lap. You’re carefully checking the film, adjusting the light settings, brushing dust from the lens.

“Seriously?” comes a familiar voice behind you. “You’re bringing that thing again?”

You glance up to see Wally, arms crossed and wearing his usual smug half-grin. He jerks his chin toward the camera.

“What if we get attacked by, like, a mind-eating wormhole? You gonna ask it to pose?”

You smirk, not rising to the bait. “If it’s photogenic.”

He groans, flopping down next to you with an exaggerated sigh. “You’re the only person I’ve met who preps for a mission like it’s a wedding shoot.”

“Memories fade,” you say softly, your thumb grazing the shutter button. “This helps me keep them still.”

Wally goes quiet for a second — a rare feat.

Then: “That’s… actually kind of deep. Gross. But deep.”

You raise the camera, snapping a quick photo of him mid-sulk.

“Hey!”

You smile. “That one’s going in the archive. ‘Kid Flash caught having a genuine emotion.’ Rare specimen.”

Robin wanders over, hands in his pockets. “I give it two minutes before he tries to eat the film.”

“I do not eat film,” Wally mutters.

Miss Martian floats down from above, curious. “What are we talking about?”

“[Y/N] and their camera obsession,” Robin replies. “Again.”

Aqualad joins them, arms folded but amused. Even Superboy is nearby, silent but listening.

You glance around at them — these strange, reckless, brilliant people.

And you quietly tuck the camera strap around your shoulder.

“Just making sure I don’t forget this,” you murmur. “Any of it.”

They don't tease you after that.

The bioship hums low as it prepares for launch, its sleek body bathed in the cold blue lights of the hangar. The team begins to board — checking gear, syncing comms, reviewing mission parameters on holographic readouts.

You hesitate just outside the ramp, one hand resting on the camera strap slung over your shoulder.

Your fingers twitch slightly. The nerves are quiet, but there — not panic, just that gnawing undercurrent of what if I mess this up?

“Hey.”

The voice is rough, blunt.

You glance over your shoulder. Superboy stands there, arms crossed, brows slightly furrowed — but not from anger. It’s a familiar expression on him now: his version of concern.

He doesn’t say anything for a second. Just stares at the ship, then back at you.

Finally, he mutters, “You okay?”

You give him a half-smile, honest but tired. “First real mission. New powers. Mild existential dread. You know, the usual.”

He huffs through his nose — his version of a laugh.

“I know what it’s like. Being the wildcard.” His voice is lower now. “Not knowing how the team sees you. Or how much of you is even you.”

That catches you off guard.

He looks away, jaw tight, like saying even that much was a lot. But then he continues.

“You’ve been through hell. So did I. Doesn’t mean we break. Just means we come out... different.”

You nod slowly.

Then he reaches into his jacket — pulls out something small, square.

It’s a photo.

One you took. Him, arms crossed, standing near the waterfall at Mount Justice. He’s not even looking at the camera — Miss Martian’s in the background laughing at something, Wally mid-sprint.

You stare.

“You dropped this last week,” he says, handing it back. “Figured you’d want it.”

You take it gently, the weight of it somehow heavier than it should be.

“You keep things still,” he says, gesturing to the photo. “Helps the rest of us remember we’re real.”

A pause.

Then: “You’ve got this.”

Before you can say anything, he turns and heads up the ramp.

You watch him go — and for the first time since Batman gave the briefing, you feel your hands steady.

You tuck the photo back into your coat pocket.

And follow.

TO BE CONTINUED…

[swightops]

still holding the silence (3) - thunderbolts* (b.reynolds)

summary - your first training session with bob has you both finding comfort in one another warning(s) - typical thunderbolts warnings (depression, cannon violence, blood, etc.), a/n - IM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE IVE BEEN BUSY AND I FORGOT TO UPLOAD IT AHHHH PLEASE DONT HATE MEEEE! as an apology, I'll upload chapter 4 tomorrow and then 5 on our regular Wednesday 😇

09:37 AM

The Watchtower’s elevator doors part with a ding as you step into the marble foyer, your boots echoing faintly beneath the high, vaulted ceilings. You’re on one of the higher floors, one that was closed off the night of the gala. Your entrance into the Watchtower was thankfully not as eventful as you thought it’d be. You only saw essential personnel on your way up, and you mentally thank Bucky for ensuring no unnecessary people would be present when you arrived. You’re sure that your PR team would freak if they knew you were here. 

Bucky’s already waiting. Leaning against a support column with his arms crossed, face serious, but his eyes turn soft when they land on you. 

“Was half worried you weren’t going to come,” he says, voice low.

You pull your sleeve down. “Yeah, well, I said I’d come, so here I am.”

He nods his head for you to follow, and you do. The silence between the two of you is thick, heavy with things unsaid. Or maybe, heavy with the things you did say, especially last night. 

“You sure you're up to this?” Bucky asks, eyes peering over his shoulder to peek at you. You shrug. 

“No,” you admit, weirdly truthful all of a sudden. “But you are right that he needs someone who understands this Sentry/Void part of him. So, I can call a truce right now if you can.” 

Bucky chuckles, “I’d never win an argument with you anyway.”

You let yourself laugh at his words. 

A door hisses open as Bucky stops and lets you walk in first. The floor is matte black, lined with dampeners and sleek modular panels. A containment field hums faintly while lighting up the room. You follow the many electricity lines to the center of the room, and they land on Bob. He’s wearing dark brown sweatpants and a black crewneck, both looking oversized on him somehow. His hands pull at the sleeves of his sweater, and his hair falls forward as he nods to the person beside him. A head of blonde hair steps out from beside Bob, and you swallow. 

Yelena Belova.

Bucky leans in. “That’s Yelena. She’s been helping keep him grounded.”

“I know who she is,” you say, and Bucky just nods, feeling a little dumb for explaining who Yelena is. Yelena’s eyes met yours, and she smiles politely before she tugs Bob towards you. 

“Hi,” Yelena says. Not unkindly. Just…careful. Years in the Red Room taught her how to hide her emotions, yet you can still see the apprehension in her eyes. Bob shifts from behind her, his hand waving at you softly. He smiles awkwardly, and it almost makes you laugh at how he’s trying to hide behind Yelena and looking at you like a curious kid.

“Hey,” you nod. “It’s, uhh, nice to meet you.”

There's a pause. Tension hangs in the space between all of you. 

“I’ll take it from here,” you say, tugging your sleeve down again. 

Bucky hesitates. “You sure?”

“I think it’d be better if it were just the two of us,” you reason, looking at Bob, and when you see him squirm, you bite your lip. “Unless you’d feel more comfortable with them here. Or just Yelena?” 

Bob flinches before he shakes his head, “No, uhh, I’m fine with just us.” You nod before moving to a nearby chair and dragging it with you to the middle of the room. Bob follows without hesitation, and his eyes met yours—not scared. Just weary. Like he’s waiting for you to be disappointed in him.

Something in your chest tightens, and you peer over his shoulder to wave bye to Yelena and Bucky. They exchange a look, then quietly step out of the room.

“So, uh, you up for trying something?” you say quietly, looking back at the brunette before you. He flushes a little under your gaze before shrugging. 

“I don’t…I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Good,” you say. “Me neither. Never taught before.”

That draws a faint smile from him before his face shifts. His lips part and then shut, and you chuckle lightly. “Is there something you want to ask?” His eyes widened slightly, embarrassed that you caught him before he looks at you. 

Then he blurts, “I heard what Valentina said. At the gala.” His fingers are tugging at the edge of his sleeve. “Super hearing. Can’t really turn it off.”

You suck in a quiet breath. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice smaller now. “That…wasn’t right. What she did. And what she said.”

“She was making a show of it,” you reply, shrugging. “That’s what she’s good at.”

He looks at you now, eyes sorrowful, like he was the one who said all those nasty things to you. “Still…it felt wrong. You didn’t deserve that.”

You shrug again, but your jaw clenches. “Let’s get started.” You walk back from the chair and motion for him to do the same. He follows, and the two of you stare at the empty chair before you lift your hand. Shadows from the wall come tearing off towards the chair, forming a small ball. It slowly unravels, the shadows fade away, and all that is left is a small metallic pyramid paperweight. 

“Yo-You did that?” Bob asks, his voice a whisper. His eyes are wide with awe, and his lips are parted as he looks from the chair to the walls and then to you. You laugh and nod, your cheeks flushing a little. 

“I’m going to float this. Nothing big. Just…gentle.” You focus. The shadows from the floor rise in thin whisps and then wrap around the paperweight, tugging gently upward. The paperweight floats an inch, floating steadily before you let it down. “You try.”

He stares. “I don’t think I can-”

“It’s ok if you can’t. I just want you to try.”

He furrows his brow and reaches out a hand. His hand shakes for a few seconds, and you both stare. Nothing happens, and Bob deflates. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to use this power,” he apologizes, his shoulders falling in disappointment and embarrassment. 

“Bob,” you call quietly, voice soft. “I’m not expecting you to get it right away. From what Bucky told me, you haven’t had these powers long. Cut yourself some slack.” Your eyes meet his again, and he blinks a few times before trying again. 

And for the next ten minutes, the two of you continue the cycle of Bob trying, nothing happens, and you encouraging him. Biting your lip, you step closer to him, and he peers down at you, standing statue-esque still, curious about what you’re doing. Slowly, you raise your hand to mimic his, and just as your skin is about to touch, you stop.

“Do mind if I touch you?” you whisper. Your heart’s beating too fast, and you steal yourself under his gaze. Just like you, Bob’s sure his heart is beating so fast that you could probably hear it at this point. Swallowing and untrusting of his voice, he nods, and you let your fingers ghost over his. “If just trying to feel it is too hard, try visualizing it.” 

A thin shadow strand leaks ripples from your skin and towards the paperweight. Bob watches with quiet awe as it wraps itself around the object and lifts it lightly into the air. You let it float for a couple more seconds before the shadows drop it and dissolve. With a cough, you step back and nod towards the chair. “You try,” you smile gently, and Bob nods. His shoulders shift back, and his feet shift slightly before he squints. He tries to visualize the shadow that came from your hand, and something under his skin jolts.

You feel it before it happens—a pulse of something too big, too heavy. The paperweight rises barely a couple of centimeters before crashing back onto the chair. Bob’s hands drop from the air, just slightly, like he’s afraid of overreaching. The bolt of energy dissipates before it fully takes shape.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, voice strained. “I thought I had it—I—I felt it, but it slipped.”

You don’t say anything right away. You can see the way his shoulders tighten, the way he shrinks back as if preparing for scolding. As if he expects disappointment. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you say quietly, stepping a little closer. “That was good, Bob. That was really good.”

He shakes his head. “You’re just saying that.”

“I don’t say anything I don’t mean.”

Bob swallows and looks down at his hands. “It’s always like this. One second I think I’m in control, and the next I’m not. It’s like trying to hold onto lightning. And when I lose it…people get hurt.” His voice cracks on the last word, barely above a whisper.

You remember the O.X.E. reports. The singular image with the people-shaped shadows on the wall. The phrase “a second presence.” You move closer—careful, slow, like approaching something wounded and wild. “You didn’t hurt anyone today. You’re learning. That’s what this is for.”

He lifts his eyes to yours, and it’s a vulnerable, almost childlike expression. “I don’t want to be dangerous.”

You could laugh, not because it’s funny, but because it’s like looking into a mirror. “No one does.”

Bob studies you. “But, you’re different. You’re Sunwraith, an Avenger. You saved the whole universe and Earth like three times.”

“There was a time when that name meant something else,” you admit, your voice dipping low, like the words still have teeth. Bob blinks, surprised, and you let the rest come out before you stop yourself. “When you see the twin suns,” you say quietly, your eyes meeting Bob’s sweet blue ones, “the shadow that follows will consume you.” He blinks for a second before he fully understands your words. The name isn’t beautiful, it’s an omen. A warning. A curse dressed in praise.

You continue before you can lose your nerve. “You’re afraid you’ll mess up. Hurt someone. Let the other part of you out.” You don’t say The Void, but you don’t have to because Bob knows what you mean. “I know what it’s like and I’ve spent a long time pretending I don’t hear the voice in the back of my head, waiting for me to mess up.”

His brow furrows, the emotion in his eyes shifting. “And you’re not scared of me?”

You pause. “I’m scared for you. That’s different.”

Bob’s gaze drops. He rubs a hand over his face like he’s trying to stop tears from falling. “…You’re nice,” he murmurs. “Even when you don’t want to be.”

“I know a couple of people who feel differently,” you joke, trying to lift the mood.

Bob swallows, his hands falling and trembling at his sides. “Yelena and the others…they’re great. They’re kind. They’re my friends. But they don’t get this. They don’t get him.”

You look at him—really look, taking in all of him. “I do.”

Bob looks at you, and something in his posture changes, like he’s breathing easier for the first time in a long while. “Okay,” he says, nodding slowly. “Okay. Let’s try again.”

You smile faintly and nod. “Ok.”

Bob exhales, and this time, the energy between his fingers is steadier. His eyes glow, a dim golden-white, but they don’t flicker out.

You don’t tell him he’s doing great, even though he is.

You let the silence say it for you.

The elevator closes behind you with a soft ding, and you're alone. Not in the way you used to be, raw and demoralizing, but in a way you chose to be. The kind of alone that lets your breath stretch out past your ribs and into the room.

You kick your shoes off and walk over to the couch before letting your body sink like it weighed a ton. You peer down at your hands, open palms. Your body still hums faintly with the echo of power, leftovers from training with Bob. You should feel drained, but you don’t. You feel…loose. Disarmed. Open.

You think of him again—a 6ft giant full of nerves, always talking softly as if his voice would hurt someone, blue eyes that were scared to meet yours at times, and still too gentle around the edges for someone carrying something so massive inside. 

The Sentry.

You laugh as you think about the name and the man it belonged to before you think back to how Bob looked at you with awe and softness. You let your eyes fall closed. The memory settles inside you, light and quiet. And it doesn’t leave for the rest of the night. 

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Okay, so I do have my own hc about this but if you've had thoughts about this I def wanna know (plus I don't know if you've posted this before). It ties in with milking discussion so it's mainly about Ford, but I welcome Stan too! How would Ford react to being pegged and edged by y/n?

honey?? welcome to my mind because.... you won't believe but i DID write pegging these old men before. but guess what? i never posted it here, i totally forgot!!! i only uploaded it to ao3, AGHHH FUCKK. so waitttt i’m gonna post it here too, my bad. i genuinely blacked out and forgot i wrote it lmao

nsfw!

but about edging, GODDAMN, i love edging. and you know Ford, being the freaky pervert he is, would absolutely be into it too. like, let’s be real, this man didn't exactly have the most active sex life before you, so once you two start sleeping together, he’s not just having sex but running experiments and exploring his preferences, fetishes and kinks....i mean, the man’s a scientist through and through, so of course he’d be open to trying every kink on the periodic table, edging included :)

and ugh, the more you do it, the more he craves it. i can totally see him getting hooked on the feeling. you’ll catch him shifting awkwardly in his chair after long makeout sessions, already half-hard just thinking about the last time you left him dripping, trembling and untouched. i also fully believe he’d get hooked on the “reward“ aspect too. like when you stroke his hair or kiss his temple after you deny him release. because such nurturing praise makes his brain melt worse than the physical part

sometimes you’ll use toys on him too (cock ring.... ?? vibrator...? god), and Ford is so grateful for every second you don’t let him finish too fast. omg... literally right now, while im writing this, my brain just played out a scene where you’re edging him by jerking him off fast and suddenly stopping at the tip, telling him “you don’t cum unless i say, baby” while your other hand is shoved in his mouth, letting him suck on your fingers (because one night, drunk off his ass, he admitted to you that he loves it). AND AND... and that that quiet, hoarse “please” is music to ur ears especially with ur fingers in his needy mouth. he can't speak clearly.

if you make it a rule for a whole day, like no touching himself, no cumming, not until you decide, he’ll follow it religiously because Ford's self-control is terrifying.... he's trying so hard to be a good boy to you :(

and i think Ford is into mutual masturbation. but adding edging here when you let yourself finish, multiple times, making a mess all over yourself, but every time he gets close you stop him. and he has to just watch. and he’s so into it that by the end his cock is swollen and twitching, and he’s too out of it to even form words :(

if you blindfold him??? it multiplies the effect x1000. being unable to see his sweetheart, when you’ll stop or start again drives him half insane. his head tips back against the pillow, mouth open and you're saying “not yet, sweetheart” and that alone could make him spill without permission, which, of course, you don’t let slide

and yeah, at one point this man would straight-up start sobbing, real tears slipping down his face, but he’s so deep in it he doesn’t even want you to stop. my sweet desperate brilliant pervert. + if you combine both, pegging and edging you might just fry his poor genius brain

and once you finally let him finish (or don’t :) depending on your mood), he gets so soft, fuzzy. drunk look in his brown eyes. the high from being so worked up turns him into the most affectionate, lazy, pliant version of himself<3

anyways feel free to share with me ur own headcanons plss, im always glad to hear ur thoughts about this needy old man!! <3

and..i know you didn’t ask bout this but i can’t shut up. i think he’d love ruined orgasms too??, sorry i’m getting carried away. imagine the first time you let him tip over the edge only to cut it short halfway through. he'll whimper so loud... his body convulses but there’s no real release. and once the frustration settles, he realises he liked it. the tension still coiled in his gut. the fact that you can take his pleasure away just like that... yeah, he’s down BAD

[letomills]

These are afbodydresslongtwo with new shoes and mesh edits. They come in the original Maxis textures and in these textures by @pforestsims, as custom or as default replacements. They have fat and preg morphs, low poly (2,154).

The shoes are based on a mesh by Siluetta (find the pantless version with different textures here).

Download links & details under the cut.

Custom

Download custom: SFS / Mega

Categorized as everyday & formal. PF textures taken from here (there is not recolor #12, I just copied PF's file numbers). The shoes TXMT and TXTR are in the mesh file.

~

Default replacement

Download replacement for afbodydresslongtwo: SFS / Mega

Choose either V1 or V2. V1 keeps the Maxis textures, V2 replaces four of them with PF textures (I did V2 for personal use, sorry if it seems random). Categorized as formal only, like the originals.

~

Mesh edits

Beside the shoeswap, I edited the fat morph to better match the Maxis nude AF fat morph + added a preg morph. I also fiddled with the bottom of the dress so there would be as little clipping as possible during animations.

There is still some but no more than on the original I don't think.

~

Btw, I don't understand. I was gonna do funky athleticwear for UM and somehow I ended up doing dresses for AF again. Not even remotely innovative dresses at that (well I guess the shoes are sort of new but I wouldn't exactly call them ground-breaking huh, also I've already done a default replacement for those dresses and nearly forgot). Anyway, unless the watcher turns free will off and compells me to add on to the AF clothing pile again, next upload should be athleticwear for Maxis-size & M9 fat TM-EM.

[sagging-saging]

Send help or deodorant, either one works

What do you do when you die and get isekai-d to a fictional world and forced to become a manager for a facility filled with sweaty teenage boys, really high egos, and soccer balls? They don't teach you this in school, and you just want to go home.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Content warnings: this fic has knowledge of recent leaks and chapters. If you don't wanna be spoiled, please click away, or read at your own risk. Other than that, there is minor cursing.

☆ This fic is Gn!Reader. Whether or not it is platonic or romantic has NOT been decided yet.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Author's note: hello!! This is the first ever time I'm actually writing something here. This fic (that may or may not be uploaded sporadically) was heavily inspired by my friend @lux-drm and their fic "that time I got reincarnated as the mc of an otome game"!! Their works are really good, so please don't hesitate to read their work!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

CHAPTER 1: Possibly destroying Spacetime continuum

No one gives you a tutorial on what to do if you suddenly get transported to a fictional world you are so into, that you can recite each and every dialog word for word.

And no one definitely tells you how to act when you become a manager for Blue Lock, all of a sudden.

In the world you're in now, it's supposed to be a new facility with newer ideals! How the hell are you supposed to pretend that "oh, I totally do not know everyone and everything in this manga like the back of my own hand"???

Blue Lock didn't even have managers! Or medics... or laundromats??? Seriously, can teenage boys actually survive this facility without getting any major epidemic or foot disease?

You shake the thoughts out of your head, and try to listen to Ego Jinpachi's rant about how strikers are egotistical little shits, but you've heard him say this for so many times, read his stupid speech a lot more, and quite frankly, you just want this over with.

What's new is your existence. You know damn well that you possibly destroyed space-time continuum, but hey, it's definitely not your fault. You didn't ask to be transferred to another universe! It did sound nice when you were in your previous life, but you want take-backsies!

"Nervous, Y/N?" Anri snaps you out of your second little daydream, this time for good.

"A little." you reply quietly, watching Team Z run around like little rats, dodging a soccer ball. It was times like this you wish you could see in real time, without the little monologs, to see what others see. But now you know how fast time can fly.

You watch Bachira Meguru pass the ball to Isagi Yoichi, who kicks the ball, and it hits Kira- you forgot his full name- square in the face, and it makes you wince. Anyone would wince at a blow like that, unless you're a sadist.

"What the fuck?! Do you think you'll win the World Cup with this shit?!" Kira's voice echoed through the communication system. You forgot he has a big mental breakdown here about being-

"AREN'T I "JAPAN'S NATIONAL TRASURE"??? HUH?" And just like that, he took the words out of your thoughts.

Asking for Isagi and Igaguri to be eliminated instead of him would, unfortunately for him, not do shit. Because Isagi is the main character, and Igaguri for some reason has the blessing of Lady Luck with how long he stayed up until chapter 300.

Shit, what happens after chapter 300??? K*neshiro had a break before you got isekai-d to his god forbidden manga. Oh you are so fucked, you think as you wipe sweat off your palms.

"Y/N, go prepare the lounge wear for Stratum 5's team Z, please." Anri– bless her heart– instructs you to deliver 11 sets of lounge wear.

"Are these the only clothes these teenagers will ever wear?" You don't even want to think about the foul odor that will come out of these rooms and the stench those teens will emit as soon as you step inside.

Despite your hesitance, you nod and start your job as a manager.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

[wildlyminiaturesandwich]

I had a message from a patron asking what changed with my updated recolours because they couldn't personally see any difference. Which, honestly? Fair. Most of the changes I made were VERY subtle and unless you know what you're looking, or put the old and new side by side, you really wouldn't be able to tell.

So here's a comparison between old and new for all the colours. To view it much larger on PC (because it's VERY hard to see the difference when the pic is small), right click and select 'Open image in new tab'.

And just in case you still can't see any difference (again, totally understandable) I'll explain a little...

Red - They were a little too pink-leaning for my liking so I made them more orange

Yellow - I turned up the saturation on them just slightly

Green - I didn't like how cool-toned they were so I added a little more yellow to them

Turquoise - Made them slightly more green just to differentiate them a little more from the blues

Blue - Turned down the saturation just the tiniest bit and made them ever so slightly more purple-toned

Purple - Same as the greens, I didn't like how cool-toned they were so I warmed them up with a nudge more towards pink

Pink - I was originally only going to change the light pink because I didn't like how blueish it looked, but once I did that it made me realise the others were too cool as well so I shifted them all more towards red

Brown - Warmed them all up a touch.

Black, Grey + White - These are the only ones I didn't touch at all colour-wise. The only difference here is I'm now using gradients to recolour and gradients preserve the original shadows and highlights better than my previous method (imo).

And in the interest of full disclosure, I'm also using a different base for recolours. I used to use the 'white' hair colour for all my recolours, but I've recently switched to using 'neutral blonde' because I feel like the shadows and highlights on that colour aren't as stark as the white, and because it's also available for children, toddlers and infants.

Again, even with that info and the side by side comparisons, some people still might not be able to see the difference and that's perfectly understandable. I can see the differences but I stare at them pretty much all day while I'm working on recolours, and I'm the one who made the changes lol

Oh and before I forgot, because I keep getting this question a lot, I will mostly likely eventually upload the gradients for others to use BUT I don't know when. I'm still working on them to get them exactly how I want them and I don't want to release them until I'm happy with them. And yes, I'm aware it sounds slightly bonkers to be updating my recolours atm even though I'm not 100% happy with the colours but my brain works in wacky and mysterious ways and I've learned to not question it anymore lol

Sorry about the long post but there you go! 😊

[jakeyispuppy]

HALLOWEEN PARTY | JAY PARK

🎃 Pairing: Jay Park (Gamer Boy) x Female Reader (Emo Girl)

🎃 Description: The reader hates Jay's guts, and it's mutual. But she can't help but feel a strong attraction to Jay, especially when, at a Halloween party he's hosting, she ends up revealing her feelings to him while intoxicated.

🎃 Genre: Smut.

🎃 Content Warnings: Vulgar language, oral sex.

🎃 Words: 1K.

A/N: I know... It's really late to upload something like this, but I couldn't help thinking about Jay as a gamer boy and wanting to try something Halloween-themed.

It was Halloween, and music and alcohol were mingling at Jay's house. This year he felt daring, so he threw the party of the year, inviting everyone except you. Or, well, he tried, but you flatly refused. You hated Jay; who, for some reason, especially loved making fun of you for the simple fact that you dressed in dark colors and always looked so pale. Yes, he spread the rumor that you were a witch all over campus, and wherever you went, you heard everyone whispering horrible things and making no sense at all about you, because of that funny Jay. So, he was like your nemesis, even though you admitted you had a thing for him, but he was still your faithful enemy.

It was midnight when the loud music could still be heard echoing off the wall of your room. You were trying to sleep, but someone decided to throw a stupid party. You got up from your bed groaning. You felt like he was doing it to piss you off. He knew you had classes the next day, and yet he still wouldn't turn down his music. You felt like you'd break something in Jay's face if you saw him, so that's what you did. You grabbed a coat and, in your pajamas, left your house, walking just a little to the house across the street, which belonged to your cocky neighbor.

The doorbell rang throughout the house, but it took you about two more attempts until Jay, dressed as a vampire—a rather sexy one, you could admit—came out onto his porch, looking at you mockingly.

"What are you doing here, witch?" he asked innocently, calling you by that horrible nickname you truly hated.

"You're messing with me, Jay." You gave him a dirty look. "Turn down your fucking music before I get really angry."

"What are you going to do? Cast a spell on me?" He laughed mockingly, making your blood boil.

"Oh, shut up, Jay," you rolled your eyes. "Just turn the music down," you said again, not wanting to fight him, about to turn around and go home.

"Hey, stay, don't be so bitter, babe," he offered with a sly smile.

"Don't call me baby." You gave him a dirty look, making him laugh.

"Okay, witch," he dragged out the last word just to annoy you. "Come on, come in. I won't bite you unless you ask me to." He took your arm, dragging you into the house. There were people you didn't know everywhere; you could even swear there were two people about to do it right in front of you. You stared at Jay, who guided you to the couch and forced you to sit down. "Why were you staring at me so much?" You saw him cross his arms, laughing at the way you looked at him; it seemed as if you were going to kill him. "Do you want to eat me? I know I'm irresistible, but I only try the second-table dishes once." He smirked, making you roll your eyes.

And if you had hooked up with Jay at the spring break after drinking until he forgot your name. Those images still hadn't left your mind: how he kissed you, the way his big hands ran over you, or how his big penis made you drool from the way he fucked your mouth.

"Good for you, I don't like leftovers either." You looked at him with mock disgust, looking toward the stands.

"Okay, witch, I get it. You don't like me, and neither do I... better drink some alcohol and have fun." He offered you a glass of alcohol, which you reluctantly gulped down. What you didn't know yet was that you'd end up between Jay's legs again for drinking too much. Although he might be the one who ends up between yours.

An hour later, you were dancing uncontrollably, glued to a guy whose name you didn't even know while you ate his mouth. That guy ran his hands all over your body, and the ulterior motives were evident in the air.

Taking strong strides, Jay approached you and pulled you away from the guy by your wrist, dragging you to the second floor, or rather, to his room.

"Hey, let me go, idiot," you complained, trying to free yourself from his grasp with your tangled tongue.

But it was funny the way you pushed and Jay kept holding you, a tug-of-war where you were at the disadvantage. The guy found it funny; you were too sweet for him. When you drank, he got tangled up with you for a reason, even though he won't admit it.

"You better go to sleep now, that's what you did before coming here to bother you." Jay rolled his eyes, remembering how you offered yourself to the guy earlier.

"To bother you? You're the one bothering me here. In the first place, it was you, and knowing me better, you gave me alcohol, you're a freeloader." You pointed at him again, like a little girl.

"Well, it's true, except for the part about me always being annoying, obviously. Everyone loves me," he said proudly, then smiled at you mockingly. "I'd forgotten that alcohol made you a little crazy." Jay giggled, making you look at him, offended.

"You're a fucking idiot, Jay. See, that's why I don't like to admit that I loved the way you fucked me that time." You admitted your drunken state.

"Oh... You like me after all. I thought you didn't; it's just that you were denying it so much." Jay smiled, watching you nod, still offended. Jay shook his head in amusement. "Come on, let me help you lie down. You should go to sleep, really."

Jay helped you sit on the bed so you wouldn't get dizzy. But when you saw he was leaving you there, you took his hand.

"Jay," you called, and he raised an eyebrow at you. "Let me cast a spell on you," you murmured, pushing him toward you. Jay fell onto your body, surprised by your boldness.

"Stop joking around and go to sleep, silly." Jay felt strangely nervous and tried to get up, but you grabbed his black shirt, pulling him closer to you again.

"Jay, can I give you a special candy for Halloween?" you murmured against his lips, feeling him shudder.

"Yes," Jay nodded, not entirely sure of his answer.

You smiled in amusement and joined your lips with his in a deep kiss. Jay smiled, tasting the alcohol in your mouth; you had no idea how much they wanted this. But strangely, he pulled away.

"Y/N, not this time. You're drunk, and I'm not..." You interrupted him by kissing him again.

"Alcohol isn't making me do anything, it's giving me courage," you murmured against his lips. "Because you don't bite me, vampire. You said a while ago that if I wanted, you would," you joked, listening to his warm laugh.

"Even so..."

"Oh, shut up, Jay." You kissed him again, his words hanging in the air as you heard his soft purr.

You hurriedly began to unbutton Jay's shirt as he did the same, removing your pajamas. The clothes began to disappear until you were completely naked on the bed. Jay moved down to your breasts, alternating between your two nipples, sucking and biting them lightly. He kissed your stomach and moved down to your crotch, parting your legs, beginning to leave wet kisses on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He ran his tongue over your folds, drawing moan after moan from you with the masterful way he licked and sucked your vagina.

Jay moved away from you for a few minutes, searching for a condom on his nightstand to put it on. This time he kissed your lips, torturously running the tip of his penis over your entrance until he finally entered you. You clenched around him, making him groan in your ear as his thrusts became more intense and rough. Your fluids bathing his entire length and the way your skins clashed, making obscene noises, were driving Jay crazy.

He flipped you over on the bed, so you were face down on it. He began to pound deeper into you, pressing himself against your body as you gripped the sheets, letting out intense, needy moans, filled with pleasure and desire for the boy. A little more and you clenched around him, feeling your body tremble, releasing yourself on his penis. His thrusts became more haphazard until he, too, reached his orgasm. They both fell asleep, not caring that there was a party downstairs and that the house would probably be a mess the next day, and you wouldn't even be making it to your classes.

The next morning, you woke up next to him, seeing Jay's calm face. He looked peaceful, asleep next to you. His eyes opened slightly and he smiled slyly at you.

"Wow, this time you didn't disappear, that's progress." He smiled, approaching you to wrap you in a hug.

"Just so you know, I still hate you," you murmured, feeling your face flush from the closeness.

"So let's be... Enemies with benefits, witch." Jay smiled amusedly, watching you laugh, thinking a bit about his crazy proposal.

"Yeah, sure, enemies with benefits sounds good."

©All rights reserved.

For translations or adaptations, please remember to ask my permission beforehand.

[robinette-green]

Robin's Inside the Pizza Plex DCA Romance Fics

These are fics I've started that take place inside Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizza Plex. The call is coming from inside the plex!

A Door You're Unable to Close:

(tag)

My best friend talked me into coming with her as moral support to her little brother's birthday party. I hadn't wanted to go to that stupid birthday party to begin with and now I'm trapped in a video game, a horror video game that might kill me. I thought at the time that it was ironic that a kid named Greg had gone missing in a Chuck-e-Cheese of all places but this is taking things much too far.

Invisible:

There's nothing like working for a corporation in a capitalist society to remind you that you are nothing but furniture and need not be perceived unless needed. Even the animatronics in this place are treated more human than I am. At least I'm on the same level as the staff bots… that's a plus? Though usually, people prefer to speak with a staff bot over me, so I suppose 'even' is the lie I tell myself. I've worked for Fazbear Entertainment at their pizza plex for about a year. I do a little bit of everything. Cleaning, repair, sales… even security sometimes. Most of the human workers have been replaced with robots to cut down on employee costs. Sometimes I think I'm the last human working here, but then I remember Vanessa still works here too. Sometimes I wonder if they just forgot to fire me or tell me I was fired, but I'm still getting paychecks, so… yeah. The time clock beeped an acknowledgment as I punched in my employee number. "Attention! Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex is closed! Have a pleasant evening!" Sighing, I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and took a long swig of my coffee.

The Star Dome (LateNight DayDreams):

An OC named Fey is a new animatronic that has been added to the plex.

Another Daycare Story:

This is another of your reader x Sun/ Moon Pizza Plex daycare stories. We start with a 20-something individual getting a job in the daycare and having to overcome a fear of animatronics. There will be some angst with Moon. Then the romance will begin. Eventually, we'll hit the events of the game and go through all that fun, but until then, this will be mostly random fluff and angst shenanigans in the loose shape of a story as our main characters fall in love.

Little Assistant:

MC is the assistant to the CEO of Fazbear Entertainment. As Vanessa kidnaps and kills children while attempting to bring Springtrap back to life, MC is forced to clean up the mess and cover up the disappearances. MC is also tasked with keeping an eye on the Daycare attendants, keeping them in line as they are forced to help kidnapping children. “Did you do it? How do we know if it worked?” “We’ll have to test out some command code on him. Everything uploaded without issue, but they do have minds of their own. He may put up a fight.” I wasn’t paying attention to the conversation, wanting as little to do with this as I could get away with. They had already forced me to help with so much, cleaning up all that mess, all that red, covering up the disappearance. Shuddering, I looked through the glass into the daycare beyond. Deep in the dark, I could see two red eyes glaring out at us, furious. I couldn’t blame him. The virus they had activated in the night mode daycare attendant was going to be used for something horrific.

Lost Time:

The reader, already in an established relationship with Sun and Moon, dies and wakes 5 years later in the body of an animatronic. The pizza plex was rebuilt after the collapse and fire. Due to some miracle, all of the animatronics had survived the disaster and were now back to work, entertaining the general public as though nothing had happened. After everything fell apart, children stopped disappearing, but the missing children were never found. Business was booming, and everything seemed to be better than ever. With the massive influx of money, Fazbear Entertainment decided to invest in a new animatronic, a drummer for the band, to add to the rock and roll feel of the Glam Rocks. But in the way of all things with Fazbear Entertainment, the acquisition of this animatronic was very confidential. Several none disclosure agreements were signed, and the whole thing was very shady. None of this mattered to me, of course. I was more worried about my new role in life. Well, it was life in a sense. I had finally woken up after 5 years to find myself strapped to a chair in parts and services, having been turned into an animatronic.

Lost in the Dark:

Working third shift for security wasn’t so bad. I spent the first few hours patrolling the halls of the upper floors, that being what I had been assigned. Then I would spend the rest of the night at the security desk in the daycare, cameras pulled up on the computer screens and keeping an eye on the ‘crazy’ animatronics that inhabited that colourful playground. 6 months of working night shift in the daycare, and I am unfortunate enough to have developed feelings for two clueless robots.

Bad Day:

I stopped with my hand on the door. I had come all this way on my day off and now I wasn't brave enough to push the doors open. Today had been a hard one. A nightmare the night before and some rough conversations had made my insides feel all squishy and tender. All I really wanted to do was lay on the floor and cry but something had brought me here, to the daycare.

Taking Time:

They needed a robotics expert and I needed a job. I had been between jobs. I had actually just been let go from my last job and was frantically looking for a new one when I had received an email from Faz Bear entertainment. They were looking for a robotics expert to run their parts and services lab. The pay was phenomenal but I would be the only one working in the lab and would be expected to keep the staff bots, animatronics, arcade games and all the automated systems in working order. I didn’t even hesitate a moment before I sent them a reply and agreed to an interview for the following day. Great pay and an entire lab to myself? Yes please.

Why is it Spicy?:

okay so... this is an AU of my Unpleasant Nightmare fic. I started this as a joke for myself but now we're here. The general idea is the same. Stuck in Security Breach and need to find a way out but Sun and Moon are extra flirty and handsy.

Out of Place:

Fosters and Green is an up and coming robotics company and is the talk of every news station in the world. They haven’t even released their first line of robots yet but people are already clambering to get their hands on a robot made from Foster and Green. They plan on releasing a few household bots that will work as cleaning staff or secretaries but they also plan on releasing a line of child care bots. Why hire a nanny when you can have a live-in one you don’t need to pay. My designated number is D-375, I have been dubbed Kate by the technicians who ran all of my quality assurance checks. My dreams of working with a family of my own were quickly dashed. Foster and Green decided that they wanted to place a bot somewhere in the public eye where people could watch it at work and so had partnered with another company who also made robots, though they specialized more in animatronics that were designed for entertainment. The two companies decided to put one Foster and Green’s N-90 models in the daycare center of Fazbear Entertainment’s PizzaPlex to work alongside the child care units that Fazbear Entertainment had created.

Taking Over:

They needed a robotics expert and I needed a job. I had been between jobs. I had actually just been let go from my last job and was frantically looking for a new one when I had received an email from Faz Bear entertainment. They were looking for a robotics expert to run their parts and services lab. The pay was phenomenal but I would be the only one working in the lab and would be expected to keep the staff bots, animatronics, arcade games and all the automated systems in working order. I didn’t even hesitate a moment before I sent them a reply and agreed to an interview for the following day. Great pay and an entire lab to myself? Yes please. I was hired on the spot. This wasn't surprising seeing as I had worked in robotics for most of my life and had some hands-on experience with these kinds of animatronics. The AI units that Faz Bear uses would be new to me but I was sure I could figure out the new tech quickly enough.

Unpleasant Nightmare:

My best friend talked me into coming with her as moral support to her little brother's birthday party. I hadn't wanted to go to that stupid birthday party to begin with and now I'm trapped in a computer game, a horror computer game that might kill me. I thought at the time that it was ironic that a kid named Greg had gone missing in a Chuck-e-Cheese of all places but this is taking things much too far.

Some of these won't be finished and some are OLD writing of mine. you have been warned. Please don't let that stop you from reading these and enjoying them <3

[sophies-stuffed-elf]

Sweet Interruptions: Sokeefe College AU!

note: this is chapter 1 ! i hope you like it, it’s kind of like if sophie and keefe were human and so was everyone else! i’m planning on doing some more chapters so let me know if you like this !🤗

UPDATE: I’m on Wattpad!! Working on uploading to AO3… (i forgot the password to my account…)

Sophie Foster hated distractions, which meant she hated Keefe Sencen by default.

And now, the guy was sitting in her corner.

Her favorite spot in the entire coffee shop—the one place where she could usually escape the noise of campus life and dive into the endless pile of work required to survive midterms—was no longer hers. Instead, it had been taken over by him.

She didn’t know Keefe personally, not really. She knew his name, though. Everyone did. Keefe Sencen was one of those people who seemed to glide through life effortlessly, leaving a trail of mischief everywhere he went. He was charming in that annoying, insincere way that teachers tolerated and classmates didn’t dare to match. He smiled too much, laughed too loud, and had never once, to Sophie’s knowledge, been caught stressing about anything.

And now, he was sprawled across the comfiest chair in the coffee shop, sketchpad balanced on his knee, latte abandoned on the table beside a pile of unopened textbooks. His posture—half lounging, half lounging more—sent a clear message: this guy had zero intentions of moving anytime soon. Sophie thought if he got up there would be a Keefe-shaped indent in the chair. 

Sophie’s fingers tightened around her coffee cup. She could already feel the tension creeping up her spine, threatening to bloom into a full-blown headache. She had too much on her plate to waste time fighting for a chair, but this was her spot. She wasn’t going to let him ruin her sacred midterm ritual without a fight.

Taking a deep breath, Sophie marched over. “Excuse me, but some of us actually need that spot to study.”

Keefe looked up, startled at first, before his expression melted into a lazy smirk. His bright blue eyes scanned her face, like he was sizing her up for a joke she wouldn’t appreciate. “Well, hello to you too,” he said, his tone as casual as if she hadn’t just nearly screamed at him in a silent coffee shop.

Sophie blinked. “That wasn’t a hello. That was a ‘move.’ Bye.”

“Foster, right?” Keefe asked, completely ignoring her demand. “Accounting class, second row, never raises her hand unless the professor makes eye contact?”

She froze, caught off guard. “For the record I do raise my hand. How do you even—wait. Are you actually paying attention in accounting?”

He shrugged, still smirking. “Not really. But I notice things.”

“Right. Well, if you’ve noticed anything about me, it’s that I need that spot. So, can you move?” Sophie folded her arms, giving him her best no-nonsense glare.

Keefe didn’t budge. Instead, he set his pencil down and gestured to the empty chair across from him. “Why don’t you sit there? The view’s almost as good.”

“It’s not about the view. It’s about the chair.”

“Ah, the chair,” he said, leaning back like he had all the time in the world. “I get it. It’s got a vibe. But I think I’ll hold onto it a little longer. You’re welcome to join me, though. I don’t bite.” He patted the little bit of empty space next to him and grinned.

Sophie gritted her teeth. He was impossible. Still, the alternative was stomping out of the coffee shop and finding another spot—something she refused to do on principle.

“Fine,” she snapped, dropping into the chair across from him. “But don’t talk to me.”

Keefe chuckled, picking up his pencil again. “Sure thing, Foster.”

She tried to ignore him, opening her laptop and diving into her notes, but Keefe was a presence. He hummed under his breath, tapped his pencil against the table, and occasionally muttered things like, “Does this make sense?” while glancing at his sketchpad.

Finally, after a particularly loud sigh from his side of the table, Sophie slammed her laptop shut. “Do you mind?”

He looked up, unbothered. “Not at all. But it seems like you do.”

“Because you’re distracting,” she hissed.

“Guilty as charged,” he said, grinning. “But, seriously, Foster, you look like you’re two seconds away from a mental breakdown. When’s the last time you took a break?”

“This is my break,” she said through gritted teeth.

“No, this is you relocating your stress,” he replied, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Ever heard of balance?”

Sophie opened her mouth to retort, but no words came out. She hated to admit it, but he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“I’m fine,” she said finally, though it sounded unconvincing even to her.

Keefe raised an eyebrow. “If this is your version of fine, I’d hate to see what stressed looks like.”

“Look, you don’t even know me, okay? So maybe don’t act like you’ve got me all figured out.”

“I don’t have you figured out,” he said, shrugging. “But I do know that no one can function like that.” He gestured vaguely to her pile of notes. “So, let me make you a deal.”

Sophie narrowed her eyes. “What kind of deal?”

“Five minutes. Step away from the books, the laptop, the stress—just five minutes. If you don’t feel better, I’ll give you the chair. Deal?”

She stared at him, trying to decide if he was serious. His smirk had softened into something more genuine, though, and for a moment, she wondered if there was more to Keefe Sencen than the cocky front he always seemed to wear.

“Fine,” she said grudgingly, closing her laptop. “Five minutes.”

“Good choice,” he said, standing and grabbing his bag. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Against her better judgment, Sophie followed him out of the coffee shop, mentally cursing herself for letting a stranger—an infuriating stranger—talk her into something so impulsive. She had no idea what she was getting herself into, but one thing was clear: her peaceful study session was officially over.

As they stepped into the brisk afternoon air, Keefe glanced back at her and grinned. “This is gonna be fun, Foster.”

She wasn’t so sure about that.

[anueutsuho]

Completely out of season, but since it's on my mind: Every SiivaGunner April Fool's Day Special ranked from worst to best:

2022: Logan Paul's birthday: I think you can guess why this one was my least favorite. NEXT!

2019: Blue Balls Day: I mean, it was alright. I don't HATE it, it's just that almost every other April Fool’s Day was better.

2017: SiivaGunner and GilvaSunner swap upload rates: I put this one a tad below the other one just because it makes no sense unless you know how both Siiva and GiLva rolled. But I love the idea. They should rip more entire soundtracks at once.

2016: SiivaGunner and GilvaSunner swap upload styles: this was actually the day I got into Siivagunner. How painful was it that GiivaSunner was terminated only 3 days later! I actually thought that was the end until a month later! Anyway, this was the best thing they could have done for an April Fool’s Day: uploading an unedited soundtrack and claiming it was a remix.

2018: Inspector Gadget Takeover #2: Oh! Minecrap! Do you know what my favorite thing to do is, in Minecrap? I love to build brown bricks in Minecrap! But seriously, unpopular opinion but I never got tired of Inspector Gadget. And I loved the second takeover even more due to the AVGN theme and the like being featured too. Gadget's Gay Maze 2 was my favorite track from this one.

2020: Rips of April Fool's Games: this was a nice little April Fool’s Day, especially in the middle of Covid. Fake game rips are always funny. And them mocking Cloud getting two whole songs in Smash Bros was hilarious. And it helped to introduce me to Homestar Runner with the Subscription Plus joke, so that's always a plus.

2024: Algorithm Slop Day: Siiva opinions that make you go like this: This was a nice bit of satire of the current state of Youtube. I am docking points for reminding me how overpresent Skibidi Toilet is, though. But some great rips from this period include: calling out Scoose Me, One-Winged Angel using MODERN memes (I completely forgot Stick Bug was a meme), GIMME 20 DOLLARS, that one rip with the overly long story description that ends with the guy shilling his life coaching services, and a few uploads that led to a fake Patreon.

2021: Mario Dies Day: the Mario Wiki made the exact same joke and I'm still unsure who did it better. Either way, a lot of thought and effort was put into this one. They went as far as to private ALMOST EVERY RIP with Mario's name it it. I especially loved the custom art for Super M̸̌̊a̴͛̿█̸͌̑i̵̛͊█̷̾̓ Sunshine, it really looked official. And the best part was it ending with a Your Best Nightmare and Finale pair of rips.

2023: Lore & Announcements (Beta Mix): I dunno if this is an unpopular opinion but I just loved seeing announcement videos of varying seriousness being ripped and parodied. I loved that "a movie based on your defeat" was ripped. Apology (Beta Mix) crossed the line twice. And I never read the SCP that it was referencing, but the end of the event where The Voice was arrested for "crimes against anime" was hilarious.

[itzpristelle]

if i have any noteworthy thoughts on certain songs as i listen to them, they go here. i'll edit as i go through the playlist

-The Littlest Pet Shop Pets: Not much to say other than the lack of sound effects, which applies to all of these.

-Dance Like You Know You Can: A bit short, but a good one!! Pristelle extended version when? Idk, but we'll see one day.

-BFFs: I love love LOVE that the twins' voices echo on the "forever" bit, and its like- that thing it does where it's ear to ear. very neat!

-I'm Sorry Song: Eh, not much to say about this. Just about the same. Unless I forgot stuff. Still good though!

-Be Yourself/Just Like You: the little 8bit/chiptuney notes in the background of the second verse!!

-Crush: Again, not alot, other than yknow, lack of sound effects.

-If You're a Guy: I love they still kept Sunil's dialogue in lmao

-It Won't Be Long: I was so confused hearing this one, like "Huh? Did I miss an episode?" But I remembered "oh yeah, THAT song" anyway very cute and sweet song :)) But that's also my clue into the fact that the album's order is kinda screwed so idk

-Wolf-I-fied: With a capital I, alright! Yeah i know that the Wilhelm Scream is in the og too but it still makes me laugh hearing it so it gets a mention here. Oh they harmonies a bit louder!! Or, well, at least more noticeable than the uploads on youtube. I fuckin love harmonies gahhhh

-Superstar Life: Shahrukh... Sh... Shahrukh 🥺🥺🥺 Yeah not much to say again. But like. Shahrukh!!! Happy.

-The Sweet Shop Song: OMG THE EXTENDED INTRO PLEASE WHOEVER IS UPLOADING THESE VERSIONS TO SPOTIFY YOU HAVE MY SOUL-

-Humanarian: Boogie you were SO RIGHT OMG THAT ROBOT EFFECT ON SUNIL'S VOICE HOLY SHIT IM WRITHING IM WRIGGLING IM SHAKING IN MUSIC HEAVEN. and the end too i just got there BAJJSHJSHSHJAHA AND THAT SYNTH EFFECT AT THE END IS SO GOOD OH MY GOD (just before russell's dialogue, which i am glad they also kept lmao)

-Miss Anna T, If You Please: Okay yeah I know I rave about the sound effects being no more and all but I'm glad they kept the one for Mrs. Twombly's here, they just work!

-Fun Being Fun: This song really does embody funness! And again, glad they kept the dialogue ("Well.. this is fun")

-My New Tail: Nothing to say, other than cool song, yknow? :>

-Lost and Found Box: A bit of a strange addition to the episode, it doesn't really add much story wise, but it only matters as much as you care. I like to think they had fun with this song :) And also, its a Christie and Youngmee song! Jasper song... were there any? If there is I might've forgotten.

-Stay Here Forever: :((( dawwww. But really, not much to say about this one. Again.

Conclusion:

I am going insane.

Season 2 when? ALL AROUND THE WORLD WHEN, HUH??? HUH HUH HUH LPS SPOTIFY ACCOUNT ?!?!?!?!?! AND ALL THE OTHER SEASONS??? HM??????!!!?!?!?!