#not that there's anything wrong with them per se

[sharpbutsoft]

You Should Fear What You Already Know

7.10 Spec / T+ / 1k / Author Chose Not To Use Warnings

Buck’s always hated hospitals. The sickly smell of bleach and illness, the squeaky floors and buzzing fluorescent lights, the fact that he could never tell which was worse; being the victim or the victim’s family. He thinks he’s made up his mind about that last one today.

Sitting by Bobby’s hospital bed, Buck’s mind keeps getting stuck on how small he looks, how young. Objectively he knows Bobby’s not old, per se, but he’s always seemed so solid, so sure of himself and his place in this world. Like steel, or concrete.

Unyielding.

But Buck knows what repeated application of stress can do to steel, to concrete, to strong men. He’s seen it first hand; never needed to see it again.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” he says, taking Bobby’s pale, fragile hand in his own. It’s warm to the touch, calloused like Buck’s own, but smaller, and that feels wrong. Nothing about Bobby should be smaller than Buck. “Every coma is different, you know? But I’m gonna believe you can until proven otherwise.”

Chim hadn’t heard anything. Buck had heard some things; not everything. But Bobby’s heart stopped, and Buck’s heart stopped, and maybe that’s the common denominator, the link between them. It’s a little hope, but it’s the only one he’s got.

“You- you said the other day, after I made lunch, that your work here is done. And at the time I- I was excited ‘cause I really tried, you know?

“I put everything into that meal, just like you do, and it must have worked. You looked so happy, after just one bite. And I was so proud of myself-“ Buck sniffs, wipes at his face with the back of his hand. “I was proud, ‘cause I’d impressed you.

“But I’ve changed my mind. You’re not, okay? Your work can’t be done, Bobby, ‘cause I made your lasagne for Tommy today and I don’t know what happened but the sauce, it was too thin, you know? I need you to show me again.” 

Buck squeezes his hand again, then relaxes it. The last thing Bobby needs is a bruised hand if… when he wakes up.

“I know you can hear me, okay? Because I heard you. After the lightning, in my coma dream. I heard you praying for me and- and I came back to you. So now it’s your turn, Bobby. I’ve seen what a world without you looks like and I can’t go back there. I won’t.”

Bobby’s heart monitor continues to beep, steady as a funeral march, not a stutter in its pace to indicate he’s heard anything Buck’s said. The low wheeze of the vent accompanies it, a nightmarish harmony. Buck wants to wake up.

He wants to wake up and see Bobby, whole and well and smiling and alive. But Buck is awake and Bobby might never be again and it’s the most unimaginable pain he’s ever felt.

Worse than the radiation scare in the tunnel - at least then Buck could talk to Bobby. Could wave off his concerns with gentle - and not so gentle - words. Could walk and talk and make them breakfast and smile. 

Could call Buck overprotective with an eye roll, and a warm hand on his shoulder.

“I lied to you, then,” Buck admits between clenched teeth. “You weren’t the same, in my coma dream. You- you were dead.” He whispers the word, like speaking it aloud could invite the possibility of it into the room. “You were dead, because you relapsed.

And the team never noticed how bad it was getting, because I wasn’t there to provoke you, I guess. After the plane went down.”

Buck laughs humorlessly as he remembers how even in his own head, the thought of Bobby not being there nearly killed him too. 

“I think my brain might have over-inflated my importance in your life, honestly, but it- it devastated me. And I still- I can’t-“ The tears come rushing back from somewhere so deep, so dark that Buck’s not sure they’ll ever stop once they spill. “I won’t live without you, okay? You know better than anyone how stubborn I am, Bobby. So you better come back to us.

“Your work here’s not done, and it’s never going to be done. Athena needs her husband. The 118 needs their captain. May and Harry need their dad, and I-“ 

That’s the thing, isn’t it? That precious, unspoken line they’ve never crossed. 

Because no one’s ever cared for him like Bobby has. No one’s worried about him, and protected him, and loved him with exasperation and anger and fear and joy so big and bold that Buck’s always been scared to look at it too close, let alone reach out and claim it. 

Now he might be too late.

But if there’s any part of Bobby that can hear him through the haze, then Buck’s going to be brave, gonna take the chance. He’d give all his blood, his plasma, his marrow. Any organ they could wrench from him he’d give to Bobby in a heartbeat, in the space between them.

Seems only fair to give him the title that goes with it.

“I need my dad, too. So, wherever you are, come back?” Please?”

-

Title is from Plastic Flowers by The Front Bottoms, don’t listen to it unless you wanna cry

I’ll post it to Ao3 later once I have it edited ✌️

#911 spec fic #911 spoilers #evan buckley #bobby nash #911 abc #911 #author is choosing Not to include warnings but uhhh dm me if you wanna check anything specific that’s no problem:) #my fic

[fungus-no69]

School LIs x Pc/Reader (x Ivory Wraith)

You/your pronouns for pc, they/them pronouns for LIs, pc is mentioned to be uncanny and strange looking in general, pc is POSSESSED!!! by the IVORY WRAITH!!!!! attempted harassment by Whitney (it fails), burns in Sydney's, mentions of Kylar's parents (maybe spoilery???)

You're never really... here. Always a bit dazed with a faraway look in your eye, yet an alertness to you that means it can't just be disassociation or anything like that.

They see you talking to the mirror a lot, or if not, looking into alleys like you're supposed to be seeing something other than the knocked over bins and occasional stray. Even at the lake in the forest, you're crouched at the edge of it as water licks at your shoes. Sometimes, the shadows seem to warp around you or maybe, your eyes are just a bit too wide to be normal. Something about the way your knuckles jut out too far or even the way that your lip movements don't completely match up with what you're saying.

Sometimes they see you wandering around the street, like a puppet. Clumsy and artificial. If anyone did see your face in those times they'd comment on the vibrant, unnatural blue of your eyes. Or how your skin seems to lose any warmth in its undertones, or maybe the way that you hum to yourself- pressing a hand to your chest and holding onto your pyjama shirt.

Robin

They're incredibly concerned that they hadn't noticed before they woke up to seeing you climb out of your window???

Even when you disappear and only appear after a whole day- looking even more out of it than usual and covered in water and some... other sort of substance that Robin just doesn't want to think too hard about

They just assume that's another weird thing you do along with the... everything else.

Look they had reason to believe it's just normal 'you' behaviour okay!

They check on you each blood moon from then on, even offering for you to stay in their room at the end of each month.

If they see you trying to leave out of the window again they may panic and grab you- looking at your face and being chilled by your hollow expression, a smile that makes them uneasy crawling up your face as a voice that's not yours repeats their name

"Robin Robin Robin Robin"

'You' slip out of their grasp before they can react- disappearing behind the windowsill. They probably almost scream before seeing you're fine at the bottom.

They can't help you before you're gone, you'll probably return in the morning anyway.

Whitney

This bitch ass motherfucker was probably skulking around the alleyways when they saw you staggering towards Nightingale street

They popped up behind you and grabbed your shoulders- hoping to make you squeal.

You didn't.

Simply continued walking.

Whitney just shrugged it off after a second of sulking, adding it to their internal list of your oddities (No they don't think of you often shut up)

They keep following you, teasing, mocking, sexual innuendos- you name it.

They pause when they see you take a beeline into the forest because what the fuck? No one except for tourists and people with a death wish go there (especially on a blood moon)

They're not superstitious per se but everyone and their fucking grandmother knows that what you're doing is a bad idea.

They grab your elbow and finally get a good look at your face, blank expression with unfocused blue eyes that look out of place on you.

For a moment they think they've been following the wrong person around. But that's impossible because they know what their slut looks like!

They open their mouth, probably to insult you or make a comment but nothing comes out when you start repeating their name with a manic grin.

They stumble when you wrench away, breaking into a sprint into the underbrush.

They go to follow you but you're already gone.

Sydney

They instinctively know something's wrong when they wake up to you shambling out of the temple's pews

They know you're strange, that something's wrong with you on a good day! But this is a whole new level.

Even as goosebumps raise on the nape of their neck, something about you seems familiar. A lingering sense of deja vu keeping them from moving.

They manage to stand up after a minute, limbs feeling heavier with each step they make towards you. Even if they tried, they wouldn't be able to sleep now. The air is stifling and wrong.

You shriek when their necklace brushes your skin as they lean closer, it leaves a torrefied blue mark where it made contact.

Yeah no. That is not normal.

Even without their necklace scalding you, your scream leaves their ears ringing and their head pounding with agony. They can't hear themself over the sound of their heartbeat, bile rises in their throat and they can't process anything but the feeling of hands so cold they burn and the image of cobalt that sears itself into their mind no matter where they look or how hard they squeeze their eyes closed.

They must have been making some kind of noise though, because when they come to- they're kneeling on the floor in between pews with Jordan's hands on their shoulders and you're nowhere to be seen.

Kylar

They were already following you as soon as they realised that you seemed even more off than usual

Somewhat similar to their parents before they became... whatever they are now.

They don't want you to end up like that! So they fight their body's urge to flee and appear at your elbow- you don't flinch, as per usual.

They hope their presence soothes you, it doesn't. You don't look as bad as they were imagining but their skin is becoming clammy just by being around you. And not in the normal way either!

They start to blabber to you, hoping to get your attention but you don't even spare them a glance! Now you're starting to freak them out.

They try to look at you properly, closer. They don't like what they see.

Blue eyes fixed in front of you, pallid cheeks, blue lips. Your eyes flick down for less than a second before a grin curls onto your lips and you grab them, calling their name

They love it when you say their name but not like that! Not when your voice echoes in their ears and makes their mouth go dry.

As much as their nails dig into your arms and they grasp as hard as they can, you manage to slip away- like their hands just... phased through somehow.

As much as they want to- need to chase you, their feet are rooted to the floor like something's holding them there. They can't do anything but watch as you depart into the forest.

They know that something was wrong! You wouldn't run away from them right? Yeah! That must be it! Something's taken control of you somehow!

They're not sure which idea makes their stomach churn more.

#whitney dont harass pc challenge #dol robin #robin the orphan #dol whitney #whitney the bully #dol sydney #sydney the faithful #sydney the fallen #dol kylar #kylar the loner #dol ivory wraith #ivory wraith #dol x reader #degrees of lewdity x reader #dol #degrees of lewdity #i love ivory wraith sm #i have been agonising over a fae pc thing im tryna write for like a week lord help me why cant i finish it #i fuckign love creatures they are so cool #i should probably make a pinned post idk #i havent edited this because i dont care its time to do more writing and burn myself out (willingly) #i have no clue how to write robin btw #actually i just have no clue how to write #thinking with my massive (average sized) brain rn

[flan-tasma]

Gaming & Freminet as your Best Friends!

Sorry for the inactivity. I've been very busy, and I know I have a few things in my inbox (ily vvs thanks for your requests and patience). But I had this in my documents for a while, and I hadn't found a time until now to post it.

Warning: Nope now💖 | English is not my native language, so if I have made any mistakes in the translation, I am open to corrections | Content in spanish and english!

Spanish:

Estos dos son los mejores amigos, ya seas alguien muy caótico o simplemente te guste más vivir tu vida de manera tranquila. Ambos son una buena compañía.

Freminet es alguien muy relajado cuando está contigo, siempre está tranquilo y disfruta de pasatiempos en los que le gusta escucharte o estar en silencio total. Él está bien con ambos.

Gaming es alguien divertido y jovial que siempre tiene una idea en mente, ya sea que lo esté planeando o ya lo haya divulgado, puedes estar seguro de que será divertido.

Mientras que uno sigue el ritmo de la aventura y su corazón, siendo capaz de correr de un lado a otro admirando Fontaine, el otro está bien siguiéndolos y soltando alguna explicación recurrente del entorno.

Siento que las cosas serían más divertidas si tienes una personalidad tan rimbombante y sinvergüenza, las cosas saldrían tan mal y tan bien que siempre tendrían anécdotas divertidas para contar.

Por ejemplo: Imagina que Lyney ve llegar a su hermano y le pregunta cómo le fue en su salida con sus amiguitos, solo para que Freminet le cuente que se encontraron con un demonio que quería robar sus almas, entonces lo retaste a una épica batalla del rap del frikismo para evitarlo, Gaming te ayudó haciendo beatbox y Freminet estaba temblando detrás de ustedes sin entender nada.

A Lyney le causa algo de preocupación, más que nada consternación, cada que Freminet le cuenta estás anécdotas. Pero siempre dejan a Freminet en su casa a la hora adecuada, por lo que está seguro de que volverá sano y salvo.

La mayor definición de Misery x CPR x Reese's Puffs son ustedes.

Hay veces en las que Freminet siente que ustedes dos son demasiado molestos, pero como los quiere mucho no se va, es entonces cuando se pone su casco y los deja a ustedes dos llevarlo a donde sea que quieran ir.

Luego, si eres alguien más pacífica, probablemente sea Gaming quien se aviente una batalla de baile contra el diablo mientras que tratas de evitar que Freminet se desmaye.

Literalmente ustedes:

Sea cuál sea tu personalidad, ambos chicos te tienen mucho cariño. Y si alguien te llegará a hacer daño, van a escuchar acercarse dos ultis caele encima.

Puntos extra porque Pers está lanzando ruidos amenazantes contra el sujeto y Man Chai le está mordiendo los tobillos.

English:

These two are the best of friends, whether you are someone who is very chaotic or you just like to live your life more calmly. They are both good company.

Freminet is someone who is very relaxed when he is with you; he is always calm and enjoys hobbies in which he likes to listen to you or be in total silence. He is fine with both.

Gaming is someone fun and jovial who always has an idea in mind; whether he is planning it or has already spread it, you can be sure it will be fun.

While one follows the pace of the adventure and the heart of it, being able to run from one place to another admiring Fontaine, the other is fine following you and dropping some recurring explanation of the environment.

I feel like things would be more fun if you had such a bombastic and shameless personality, things would go so wrong and so right that they would always have funny stories to tell.

For example, imagine that Lyney sees his brother arrive and asks him how his outing with his friends went, only for Freminet to tell him that they encountered a demon that wanted to steal their souls, so you challenge them to an epic battle of freestyle to avoid it, Gaming helped you by beatboxing, and Freminet was shaking behind you without understanding anything.

It causes Lyney some concern—more than anything, consternation—every time Freminet tells him these anecdotes. But you always leave Freminet at his house at the right time, so he is sure that he will return safely.

The greatest definition of Misery x CPR x Reese's Puffs is you.

There are times when Freminet feels that you two are too annoying, but since he loves you so much, he doesn't leave. That's when he puts on his helmet and lets you two take him wherever you want to go.

Then, if you're someone who's more peaceful, it'll probably be Gaming who has a dance battle with the devil while you try to keep Freminet from fainting.

Literally you:

Whatever your personality, both boys are very fond of you. And if someone is going to hurt you, you will hear two ultis approaching.

Bonus points because Pers is making threatening noises at the guy and Man Chai is biting his ankles.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact freminet #freminet genshin #genshin freminet #freminet x reader #freminet #genshin gaming #genshin impact gaming #gaming x reader #gaming #ga ming #ga ming x reader #genshin ga ming #ga ming genshin #genshin impact ga ming #genshin crack

[rius-cave]

What are some of your fluffiest Adamsapple headcanons vs your most angsty headcanons?

See friend, it's a bit hard to answer this cause honestly I don't really keep a list...? Haha, and usually I don't tend to get married to any headcanons, like I have preferences sometimes but I like entertaining different ideas, sometimes even things that are contradictory.

Adam and Luci having been friends in Eden is a headcanon that I didn't invent and it is commonly accepted fanlore by this point, but that's probably one of the fluffiest ones. Or, angstiest, anything from Eden ends up being kinda angsty imo LOL

I also did that comic about Adam naming Lucifer in Eden :> I don't know if I'd say that's something that I actually believe, but I really like the idea and I think it's really cute.

As for angsty headcanons, I have mused on a lot of them but I wouldn't say there are any that stand out. Like I said, anything in Eden is kinda angsty by nature lol. Adam trusted Lucifer, he trusted him more than he did Lilith, and it wasn't the fact that Lucifer got together with Lilith that hurt him per se, it was the betrayal from his only friend the thing that really hurt. Add on top the fact that Lucifer basically doomed all of humanity to die (death didn't exist before that) and you have some VERY good reasons for Adam to resent him. Mind you, Lucifer still doesn't think he did anything particularly wrong. He IS the sin of pride.

#hazbin hotel #adamsapple #ask

[apricote]

sorry lads but i do think that some people are genuinely allergic to wlw and mlm

#listen. #even when i thought i was 100% straight i had gay ocs #and i know several cishet women who write f/f fanfiction #i just think that it's weird that all your ocs/sims are straight even if you're straight yourself #like you really hate gay people huh? /hj #not every oc you make has to be a literal self-insert lmao #not that there's anything wrong with them per se #but i do think it's a lil weird #if they all are #💬

[dreamlogic]

i keep trying to uninstall gender but society keeps forcing mandatory updates that won't let me completely remove the program from my device, so instead i have to settle for just going into settings and removing all permissions & silencing notifications regularly. wish there was an Opt Out button. this gender shit starting to feel like tumblr live & i just gotta keep snoozing it weekly for the rest of my life

#coming out to new coworkers and the results have been overwhelmingly more positive than my last job! #prev job just. ignored my pronouns & refused to acknowledge my transness at all #present job i got abt 50/50 'oh ok cool' & 'oh ok cool but this is v new to me so please be patient if i mess it up' #there's clearly some people who read me as a cis man and it's v hard for them to think of me as anything else #& i'm like bro i'm just a person with a body don't think too hard about it #anyways in this metaphor the computer keeps defaulting me to male as the closest approximation #and i just have to keep reminding it that my man-shaped camouflage is just a performance #there's no gender underneath it's just me #being he/him'd doesn't make me dysphoric im just like 'yeah i guess that's an easy mistake to make. carry on' #like i did spend 10+ yrs & thousands of $ to ensure when ppl inevitably gender me (as most can't help doing subconsciously) they lean masc #so it's not wrong per se #but it doesn't give me the euphoria/relief/comfort of just. not being gendered at all. #ctxt #meatsuit renno

[curiouslavellan]

I enjoy Solavellan as a deep and enduring love story as much as the next person, but I can't stop thinking about Lavellan getting over him during the time skip from Inquisition to Dreadwolf and this development is never actually communicated to Solas so he thinks they're still doing the star-crossed thing but she has fully moved on

#elly.txt #had a deeper conversation with my bestie but Halveri's behavior in trespasser re: still being in love with him #is not false per se but definitely influenced by the circumstances #the world is falling apart and everything is going wrong and the anchor is killing her #she cant control anything except her feelings so she leans into that #but give it three or four years and a lot of thinking and she moves on #and whoever is there with her (prob cass) when she finally caves and gets wine drunk and scream-sings break up songs #is like 'amazing breakthrough! brb' and immediately sends ravens to the rest of the inner circle #also quite possible she ends up with Bull after this because im running his romance route with her and i like them together #oc: halveri lavellan

[syrenki]

They love phone more than God

perhaps

#answered #anon #i don't think they're doing anything morally wrong per se i just #can't comprehend the train of thought that goes into it #into. well. posting things like that? #into someone arriving at a conclusion that their biggest passion in life is literally. themself. #what kind of people are they #what has happened to them #it's mind-boggling to me

[blujayonthewing]

part of my problem as a cosplayer is that I'm, personally, really particular about accuracy, so the trouble with being fat is less body image problems and 'fat people can't/ shouldn't cosplay' and more 'I wanna look EXACTLY LIKE THE CHARACTER but I CAN'T >:('

#thinkin specifically about my own OCs still but like #this also includes 'my NOSE is the wrong SHAPE for MOST OF THEM >:(' and 'they are ALL a DIFFERENT SKIN COLOR THAN ME >:(' #there's no law against me cosplaying my skinny druid as a fat woman except the law of my heart being mad I don't actually look like her #if anything I'm almost more comfortable cosplaying other characters than my own OCs in this regard? #like-- what they're supposed to look like is so personal to me #cosplaying vex'ahlia? stunning. showstopping. sexiest I've ever felt in my life and in retrospect that cosplay wasn't even that great #dressed as my own OC? who is this fool in this unconvincing ruse #they should invent shapeshifting for cosplay reasons #... this is not to say that I don't still want to make my OCs' outfits and wear them to events LET'S BE CLEAR #but idk that any amount of wizard robes or ranger armor would ever really feel like I'm Cosplaying Them per se... #about me

[sillyabtmusic]

devastating. group i hate made a good song that's stuck in my head

#speaking.txt #>:•/ i mean the group didn't do anything wrong per se they are well loved i just hate them personally over one thing lmao

[anonymousdandelion]

A general tip for students who are sending those dreaded Religious Absence Emails to your professors: Rather than asking permission to take the day(s) off, politely let them know that you will be taking the day(s) off.

In other words, consider not saying this:

"May I miss class on [date] so I can observe [holiday]?"

It's not that there's anything wrong with the above, per se. But because it's phrased as a request, it risks coming across as optional — a favor you hope to be granted. Problem is, favors are not owed, and so unfortunately asking permission opens the door for the professor to respond "Thanks for asking. No, you may not. :)"

Instead, try something along the lines of:

"I will need to miss class on [date] because I will be observing [holiday]. I wanted to let you know of this conflict now, and to ask your assistance in making arrangements for making up whatever material I may miss as a result of this absence."

This is pretty formal language (naturally, you can and should tweak it to sound more like your voice). But the important piece is that, while still being respectful, it shifts the focus of the discussion so that the question becomes not "Is it okay for me to observe my religion?", but rather, "How can we best accommodate my observance?"

Because the first question should not be up for debate: freedom of religion is a right, not a favor. And the second question is the subject you need to discuss.

(Ideally, do this after you've looked up your school's policy on religious absences, so you know what you're working within and that religious discrimination is illegal. Just in case your professor forgot.)

#this strategy got me through all of college #and some professors were a lot more supportive than others but no one ever told me no #because i didn't give them the chance #jumblr #judaism #religious absences #relevant to other minority religions as well #as well as non-religious accommodations #and non-school settings #dandelion says #jewish dandelion #note: the policy/legality details will vary depending on where you live and go to school #when i talk about religious discrimination laws this is based on public universities in the us

[beatcroc]

you ever think about how gerome and fake pep are the only two guys who really only ever knew the tower as their home? i do

lots of fp text in this one so full un-ciphered script is going under cut below. [mostly just a bunch of headcanon nonsense about his whole Situation in the tower :p] [there is also a second bonus after because i am insufferable] anyway,

bonus:

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino] [gustavo] [gerome]<- u are here [noisette again]

gerome: i say there monstrosity! do you know the times? fp: …? gerome: haha! just an old joke, lad. gerome: but seriously, i never saw you around the tower much. what's your deal? fp: ... fp: 👈 ?? gerome: yes you! you never struck me as just some hired goon like the rest. fp: i… i don't really know. gerome: oh come now, you needn't be modest. fp: i'm not! i- [fp takes a seat] fp: they…. didn't tell me much. the…the lab. you know it? gerome: i'd pass though, now and again. fp: i was there for awhile, with lots of other copies gerome: oh, you knew the other clones? what were they like? fp: nutritious. gerome: ah. fp: they-the tall one- moved me to….「bruno's」 later. gerome: tall one… you mean pizzahead? fp: uh….right.「pizzahead」 …started changing it. kept changing it. i think i was waiting for something. waiting… to open? but he told me to keep-stay in there. to guard it. was there…longer than the labs but we never got to finish…. but i think we were close. But then「pep- pep: woah. never seen him this chatty gerome: just have to ask the right questions, i suppose pep: I mean, sure but-- wait, you can understand him??? gerome: it's only natural, after all, he is at least in part- part of the tower; made from its power and resources, and so connected with my brother...and to some extent, myself. his speech resonates with the old echoes through its chambers, and while i may not be as omniscient, it has no secrets that would fully elude me. pep: ...uh. ok, sure. what's he saying? fp: ..! fp: XXX! gerome: ah…. seems he's a bit embarrassed. pep: aw. er…look, it may not be my business, but whatever happened in the tower is behind us now, yeah? i know i sure try to forget it too fp: 😬 fp: ...😓👍 [fp turns back to gerome] fp: ............i wasn’t done gerome: he wasn't done. fp: yeah. then 「peppino」 came through. you probably know. hard to miss him. gerome: heh, I'll say. fp: We fought, I stayed…. didn't know anything else until 「pizzahead」grabbed me. fighting more on the roof... fp: You know the rest? you ran out with us... gerome: mhm fp: And… now we’re here. gerome: now we’re here… fp: ...that's all i had. so..... i still don't really know. sorry... gerome: ah, don't be. that's just how it goes, i guess. not much that can be done now... gerome: i suppose we both left some things behind in that tower. i certainly know it can be daunting to leave the fold of familiarity. gerome: but, for what it's worth...i think it’s for the better things worked out for us as they did. fp: yeah…

bonus! 2!!

#pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #gerome #pillar john #pizzaposting #man. there was a lot of really specific shit i wanted to say in this one that i dont think i communicated very clearly at all #its fine though i dont think the ambiguity is necessarily a bad thing. he sure is feeling something and its on you to figure out what #i was picking up on a couple different reads as i went and i don't think any of them are really 'wrong' per se #but also there Is technically a 'correct' one which i will certainly ramble abt if someone asks <:3c #anyway i kinda scrapped that longer angsty comic with the bros so this is my main pillar bros propaganda post now i guess #begging and crying people to care abt & include them etc #now to be clear i dont think gerome has like. never been anywhere else or anything #i think he and john could p much travel freely before the whole pizzahead takeover #but after that happened john was confined to the tower and gerome just wound up staying in there all the time to help take care of him #so it's been a bit since gerome truly Ventured:tm: #fake pep on the other hand i straight up do not think had ever set foot outside the tower until postgame #so. yeah the tower was a pretty big and fundamental deal for these guys' sense of security. #and now that it's gone i think they should be friends about it #and also more generally i think gerome is a great confidant for fp!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [!!!] #besides the whole 'can actually understand him' thing gerome is just a cool & chill lil dude to talk to #no shade to peppino ofc he's a decent enough role model and tries his best to understand despite the barriers. but like. yknow. #he is also very reactive. and intimidating. and bad at handling emotions. #and you knooooowwww he is not going to want to talk about tower shit specifically for a variety of reasons #i think gerome enjoys fp's perspective on tower stuff though. #rem and i were bouncing off eachother wrt the tower and cloning and all the natural john duplicates/bodies #fp is not the natural 'subject' for the tower's processes but he a product of its nature just as much as any john #so i am thinking. maybe gerome also considers fp family. i think that would be nice. #aahhhhh...something about bridges. something about liminality. #you can take the beast out of the tower but you can't take the tower out of the beast

[scudslut]

Sins and Honey Flavored Sweetness

daryl x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.7k

warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut under the cut, perv!daryl (not really, he just has a lil crush), male masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral f!receiving, mutual pining

a/n: i have never written something so descriptive ohmygod. do be warned lol, hugs and kisses byeee <33

Daryl knew there were unspoken boundaries when it came to you.

A thin line of loose salt, that whispered to him. Beckoned him huskily to dust his fingers through and have a taste, but daunting enough for him to keep his soles rooted in the dirt, salivating from a distance.

It wasn’t because you were already spoken for in any way; if anything, you kept your romantic interests simmering farther on the back burner than he did, which spoke volumes in itself. Or because you were younger than him, a couple of years wasn’t anything to turn a nose up over, especially nowadays.

It was, however, the place you held amongst your people. You were like bright, shiny gold within the group, dared not to be corrupted or led astray. The heart that kept everyone’s beating, even in the darkest of times, soothing hope into the atmosphere with your infectious smile.

Oh, and you were Rick's younger sister... which he hated to admit, only tempted him more. And he wasn’t quite sure as to why.

He’d mulled it over too many times to count, noting everything about you that allured him so intensely.

He liked the contrast between you two; like sun rays peeking through the clouds after a mid-summer storm. You were soft, fresh as clean linen and he was dark, brooding. He often fantasized about taking that sweet innocent nature of yours and painting it with his essence. He knew it was wrong and constantly shamed himself for having such perverted thoughts about his best friend's sister. But, god, how could he not?

Not when you pranced around him daily, teasing him with your velvety, feminine voice and kind touches. Touches that sent brisk shivers down his spine, sure to leave him breathless and bothered — another thing he secretly liked. You were addictive in that sense, he’d distance himself the minute he felt the familiar rush coursing through his veins and then crave it immediately once it was gone. A drug he couldn’t help but relapse from.

And it didn’t help that you were always so keen to assist him, doting on his every injury or problem with such gentle attentiveness and sincerity. That might be what he liked the most. It was fascinating how pure you remained in a world so plagued, always ready to nurture. It soothed a deep, restless, and scarred part of him, finding solace in it.

He'd come to learn you were like that with everyone though. So, he found himself grappling with things to deter your attention his way, playing dumb and clumsy just to have your sweet scent fill the nearby air. He felt like a horny teenager with a hopeless crush. It was absolutely ridiculous and yet, here he was once again, feet dangling off your kitchen counter as you searched the cabinets for some aspirin to aid in his 'headache'. 

It wasn't a complete lie per se - his sensitivity to light gave him troubles quite often but, whether it was enough to complain about or not, could be debated.

Nonetheless, he sat for you patiently, listening to your quiet humming as you searched about. He loved when you did that, singing your soft melodies under your breath mindlessly. It was such a girly thing to do, but it was comforting in a way, an airy blanket warming the silence.

"Ah, here it is!" drew him out of his thoughts, and he cast a glance at your bright smile of accomplishment. You popped the cap open swiftly, shaking out 2 little white pills, and handed them over with a glass of water.

“Let me know if you need any more. They should kick in soon, but I know how tough migraines can be,” you soothed, your sympathy never faltering. He bowed his head quickly, not wanting you to see the flash of guilt that surely crossed it. "Thanks," he mumbled as he tossed his head back, swallowing them both with a shivered grimace.

Wiping the water droplets from his chapped lips, his eyes found yours again and noticed a small smirk hidden in your features. “What?”  

You let out a chuckle, reaching for the glass he held to wash, “Oh nothin’... just don’t think I’ve seen you cringe like that before, is all.” 

His brows furrowed at your statement, “So?” he questioned further.

“Walkers, blood, rotting flesh… never. But an itty bitty pill?” Your laugh grew louder, finding the situation even more amusing as you explained it to him. “Whatever,” he scoffed, hopping off the counter with a smirk. He knew you would be expecting him to leave after that, you had helped him with his ‘issue of the day’ and there was no reason to linger any further. But he did.

Daryl scanned your frame as you washed the few dishes that were in the sink, chewing on his thumb habitually. You wore a white, long-sleeve shirt with a faded band logo printed on the front and some beaten-up blue jeans that seemed to cup your ass perfectly.

His mind wandered before he could stop it, imagining how soft and warm your skin must be underneath all those clothes. How soft and warm your hands would be wrapped around him, or better yet, your pretty lips taking him deep with a moan. He felt his own jeans tighten slightly and quickly diverted his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat as if it would erase those thoughts from his brain.

“Something else you need, Daryl?” You glanced over your shoulder, wrists deep in soapy water. 

“Nah, uh, thanks. I’ll see ya later,” he said and beelined for the door praying to god you didn’t see his flushed face and half-hard cock poking through his pants. He was so fucked. Couldn’t even look at you anymore without sprouting boners and picturing you on them, milking him greedily. 

He rushed down the porch and across the lawn, bursting into his shared house with Carol just next door. He didn’t even glance toward the kitchen to see if his friend was home, desperate for a cold shower to level him out. The house was dead quiet anyway, leading him to assume Carol was out for the day.

"Such a fuckin idiot," he cursed himself under his breath as he made his way down the stairs to his room. You probably knew honestly. Could tell how pathetically bothered you got him, and just put on a friendly face to keep from embarrassing him.

He left the bathroom door open in his distress and hastily shed his clothing, stepping into the tepid water. Immediate relief flooded his senses, feeling the cool stream wash away the sweat and grime the day had caked on. Pouring some homemade soap he was given into his hand, he scrubbed at his skin, determined to rid himself of your previous interaction along with the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you that way, it just wasn’t in the cards.

For starters, you would have to want him too, (which he knew would never happen), and even if you did, how the ever living fuck would he explain that to Rick?

‘Oh hey Rick, I have a massive hard-on for yer sister, you okay with that?’ Fuck no. Just thinking about that conversation had him cringing in awkwardness and he shut the idea down instantly. 

But there you were still, invading his thoughts with your dreamy laugh and perky attitude. Why did you have to be such a goddamn tease?

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the wall trying to regain some composure. He gulped down deep breaths of moist air, willing his body to calm itself down, but it was fruitless. The image of your body, pushed up against the wall under his hands, wet and flushed, bubbled to the surface. He groaned. Daryl knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten off thinking about you, and he damn well knew it wasn’t gonna be the last, but it still felt wrong each time, pumping his cock when you were just next door. His body craved the relief though, relief only indulgence could satisfy. 

He hissed as he dragged his fingers along his shaft, gripping at the base and beginning to pump slowly. He was painfully hard at this point, each squeeze raking shivers over his damp skin while he choked out quiet moans. With his opposite hand, he flicked the water to a warmer setting, pitifully hoping the heat and steam would resemble something close to your body against his. God, if only you were here.

He sped up, swiping his thumb over his sensitive tip with each pass, sending jolts throughout his body. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned deep and husky, not a care for the noise filling the empty house.

You were there, clear as day in his mind, moaning along with him as he pounded into you, cunt gripping him like a vice. Your breath was hot and pitchy against his ear as you begged him to fuck you harder, to go faster, to cum deep inside you. His cock twitched at that, he was already so close.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he whined, humping erratically into his long-forgotten hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered in bliss as he stroked himself, lost in his detailed imagination. You were cumming, trembling around him in languid spasms with his seed spilling out of you, and Daryl was over the edge, tossing his head back moaning your name as he unloaded, letting the steamy water wash it away. 

It took him a few minutes to recover, catching his breath slowly and trying to avoid the guilt that would soon be settling in. What would you think of him if you knew what he did behind muffled walls? How he thought of you in such dirty ways, when you’d only ever see him as a dear friend. He wondered what you might be doing now. Traipsing around your cozy home, oblivious to his rapid, lustful heart meters away.

The water was beginning to run frigid and he let out a defeated sigh. Absentmindedly, he reached past the curtain for a towel and stepped out, drying his hair off roughly and then wrapping the towel around his waist, turning to the bedroom for fresh clothes and much-needed sleep. His mind ached to be thoughtless, consumed by the abyss of unconsciousness.

He should have known the world stopped playing fair long ago.

In a single moment, his heart stopped and his stomach dropped to the fucking depths of hell.

There you stood, feet frozen to the floor with his crossbow in hand, like he willed you into existence. He stuttered, his mouth opening and closing like a blubbering fish. He was sure his eyes were the size of saucers, he could feel them ready to pop out of his skull and run away. There was no fucking way this was happening.

Several beats passed. The silence deafening between you both and for a moment, he honestly debated stepping back into the shower. Pretend you were a figment of his tortured imagination and just hope you’d go away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen ghosts.

“You uh- you forgot your crossbow when you rushed out today,” you finally broke the silence, solidifying your genuine presence. He glanced down to the bow and then back at you, lost for words. Did you hear him? He moaned your goddamn name, quite a few minutes ago though… had you been standing there long? Were you angry?

His racing thoughts were interrupted when you stepped towards him, leaning the bow against the doorframe and moving closer. Instinctively, he took a step back, “Thanks,” he replied shakily, but you kept moving closer. He noticed your gaze then. It wasn’t on his face, but on his abdomen, at the hem of the damp towel hanging off of him. Your eyes had a gleam to them. Something dark and lustful.

No. Surely, he was reading you wrong. 

“Daryl,” you spoke, and he audibly gulped, nervousness and absolute embarrassment flooding his system, “is there something you need to tell me?” 

He didn’t answer you, instead deciding to burn a hole into the floor with his shame. He couldn’t look at you. You knew. You had heard him and were teasing him about it and here he was, a coward who couldn’t even admit to it. And you had every single right. He crossed that salty line years ago, with his first sinful thought about you. Feasted on it, deluding himself into thinking all was okay as long as his actions didn’t physically involve you.

He barely registered your advances when he finally raised his head. You were so close he could feel the heat of your breath against his burning skin, the luscious scent of vanilla and pine filling the air.

“Can I see?” you asked quietly.

He nearly choked on his own spit. Your hand was skimming along his stomach lightly, suggestively toying with the towel that covered him up. “Huh?” His mind was blank. 

“Can I see you?” you repeated, and all he could do was give you a curt little nod, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to just yet, but rendered acquiesced. Your hand pulled at the fabric softly, letting it drop to the floor revealing his manhood to your hungry eyes. Nothing was making any sense. Surely, you did not feel this way too. Surely.

There were those whispers again. He shouldn't have let you do that. He should be recoiling, shielding himself from your gaze but he was statuesque, like you had drank the life out of him with one simple look.

"Were you thinking about me touching you?" Like you had to even ask. The answer was written in plain sight, right there on his forehead and in his bashful eyes.

"M'sorry, I-" he had no clue how to even begin this kind of apology, remorse coursing through his veins rapidly. The dots weren’t connecting, not yet. "I know it's wrong, I shouldn't have-,”

And then he felt you, pressing your lips against his softly — timidly as gentle hands feathered across his waist, coaxing him into you. Your kiss was buttery, lips so smooth and sweet he wanted to drown in them. You tasted like fresh honey and vanilla ice cream, hints of minty toothpaste caught on your tongue. It was intoxicating to say the least, swarming his brain with a muted buzz and he whimpered, much to his surprise, melting into your touch quicker than he would like to admit.

“Y/n, y/n, nah we can’t,” he heard himself say as he came to his senses slowly, but he wasn’t pushing you away. Why wasn’t he pushing you away? You couldn’t, right?

“Please,” you whispered against him, low and sultry. Who was he to deny you? God Daryl, get a grip.

“Y/n, no,” he repeated, allowing his tone to take some authority even if that was the last thing he truly wanted. You stepped back from him then, a hurt expression painting your features and he felt his heart squeeze. “Why?”

His brain was scattered. This felt like a nightmare; another cruel joke sent his way to haunt him for the rest of his life. There just always had to be a price, didn't there?

"He doesn't mind, you know?" you whispered and his eyes were on yours instantly. You traced soft shapes across his stomach, sending those shivers down his spine and effectively turning him into putty.

"What’re ya talkin' about?" He needed to regain his composure, he could barely breathe with you this close, eyes raking his naked frame with desire.

"Rick... you and me. He doesn't care," you stated, "thinks it's cute actually... my crush on you."

Your crush on him?

"He trusts you, Daryl, with everything. You're pretty much the only person he would want me to be with." He hadn't thought of it that way, only ever assumed voicing his attraction to you would result in his head on a platter, or his dick… or both.

You began peppering his neck with small kisses, trailing them down his chest and over his puffy nipples. He hissed when you nipped at one, licking over it after, soothing the burn. "Ya sure?"

You nodded.

"Ya sure ya want me?" he asked dubiously. His question was answered when you grabbed his hand gently, guiding it inside your cotton underwear, letting his calloused fingers trace your soaked folds. He could have cum then and there, spreading your slick up and down between his fingers like it was liquid gold. Fuck me.

"This all fer me?" he panted, succumbed to a state of disbelief at your evident arousal. You were so wet around his fingers, pulsing and bucking slightly with each feathered stroke. "Were ya listenin' ta me?"

Hair fell over your face as you nodded sheepishly, gazing down to watch his fingers massaging you. You bit your swollen, cherry-red lip, “Couldn’t help it, you sounded so- so good.”

Now that... that got him going. Imagining your pretty cunt dripping in your panties, listening to his gasps while he fucked himself to the thought of you. Who knew the golden girl would be so naughty?

Daryl felt his confidence build, watching you fall apart for him from such simple touches. The last wire holding him back snapped and he needed more. He had waited for this moment for so fucking long.

You whine as he retracts his hand, only to be completely shut up when he places the thick digit on his tongue, sucking greedily and sloppily. It was better than he ever could have imagined, similar to the honey of your lips but so much more sweet. He went back for seconds. And thirds. Until he was dropping to his knees, deciding to lick the goddamn plate clean.

You enveloped him in the best way possible, lifting one of your thighs over his shoulder as he tugged on your tight jeans, pulling them down enough to fit his head. His tongue pressed flat against your clothed pussy, and he sucked, tasting a mixture of your sweetness and residual laundry detergent on his tongue. His moans burned the back of his throat, desperately trying to hide them but you weren’t having it, tugging on his chocolate locks for more. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear you, honey.” Good lord. He silently thanked each lucky star of his that the house was empty before emitting a guttural groan between your thighs. If this was all he got from you, a little taste of the sugar you were made of, he would die a very happy man.

He took your clit between his lips, rolling it with his tongue. Your underwear was so wet with your arousal and his spit that it was practically see-through, just calling for him to pull aside. “Please,” you gasped.

“Hm? Wha’s that?”

He’d heard you just fine. He wanted to hear you again, and again. He was greedy and you were so damn sinful, “Please, need them off, need you.”

So, he complied, as any sane man would, shimmying them down your hips as he sucked and nibbled each inch of newly exposed skin. You watched him intently with half-lidded eyes, rocking slowly to let plush skin engulf his senses like a cloud. He felt you playing with his messy hair, taking small strands between your fingertips and moving them behind his ears to see him better. The gesture struck something deep within him. You were so kind, so focused on this moment and him, he’d be damned if he let it continue on the hard damp floor of his bathroom. No fucking way.

He stood abruptly, catching you off guard. “Bed,” he muttered, capturing your lips again in a haste. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t want a minute to pass where he wasn’t tasting some part of you. Any part of you. Sweet, sweet honey.

You led your bodies backward till your knees hit the mattress, wasting no time as you crawled up to his pillows, taking him with you.

This moment right here, this feeling… he wanted to bottle it up. Freeze time and just stare, immerse himself into every tiny detail. It felt almost criminal to continue. You were a vision, panting and squirming beneath him; so much electricity and anticipation bouncing between your yearning bodies. Could you really want this just as much as he did? Was he truly that oblivious, all these years? Whatever that answer may be, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up. Not with you.

Your hands on his face coaxed him back to reality, molding into your touch like clay. Eager lips chased his as he pulled your shirt off and as much as he wanted to freeze time and memorize each freckle of you, the more skin each other touched the more obscene the kiss became. An unartistic jumble of spit and hands and moans and thrusts.

In all the time spent pining silently for the other, you both could care less about grace.

No, he needed to hear you. Listen to every octave of moan you had in you, all at once. He needed to know each and every spot that had you whimpering and begging, this second. If time did decide to stop at any given moment he needed to have you, be you, feel everything you had to offer, and soak in it till his skin pruned.

His lips sucked and bruised their way down to your navel, and then past, kissing up your folds with lustful intent. The sounds you made above him had him seeing stars and he wanted more. His tongue slipped past your lips, finally diving into the hive of your sweetness, rolling his tongue languidly over your clit. Your hands were everywhere around him, fisting at the sheets, the pillows, and then his hair as you desperately tried to push him closer. He didn’t mind. He’d gladly suffocate between your thighs, a death he’d welcome compared to the ones he fought from outside every day.

He dove lower, smoothing his tongue over your entrance but not delving past quite yet.

“Daryl,” you gasped above him.

Looking up between your legs, he caught a glimpse of your face tossed back in pleasure and he groaned, having to ground his hips into the mattress below to relieve some pressure. “What d’ya need, sweetheart?”

He’d give you anything. The moon if you asked for it — anything to keep those pretty sounds coming from your lips. “You, you, please you.”

“How so?”

He knew he was teasing you. He’d drawn back from your glistening slit, pressing little pecks everywhere that he could reach. Your hips, your pelvis, the little crease between your thighs and your cunt. That spot drew a deep moan from you, so he focused on it, sucking and licking till it was bright red and your hips were rolling so violently he wasn’t sure how he kept his lips on you.

“In, please,” you choked out, tugging him by his shoulders to move back up. He wasn’t done yet.

“What? Ma fingers?” he toyed further, continuing his kisses everywhere but where you wanted him. “Hm?”

He brought his thumb up to your clit, pressing lightly at first, rubbing lazy, torturous circles. His lips were on the inside of your thigh, so close to your entrance but seemingly so far. He knew you wouldn’t take much more of this, you were practically sobbing above him blubbering nonsensical curses about how much you ached.

“This pretty cunt wanna be filled, that it?”

His thumb pressed firmer.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, begging him. Oh, that sound would surely be the death of him.

He finally brought his lips to your supposedly aching entrance, delving deep with his tongue. The noises he made as he lapped on your honey were flat-out pornographic, and you writhed below him, drinking everything he was giving to you. Honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take. He wanted to draw this out for hours, make up for every bit of lost time but seeing you like this, so needy for him had his resolve shattering by the second.

With a final peck to your weeping folds, he crawled his way up back to your face. You latched on to him instantly, sensing his give and taking absolute advantage of your moment. His hips rolled into yours slowly as your tongues danced and he hardly had to guide himself with how wet you were, his tip finding your entrance easily and slipping past. You moaned rolling your hips again and he nearly bottomed out, a long deep groan ripping out of him. If he thought your lips were buttery, lord save him.

Perching himself on his forearms, he held still, watching for any signs of discomfort. He assumed you hadn’t been with anyone in a while and he certainly knew he wasn’t small, if he’d grace himself with any sort of compliment.

Sensing nothing but pleasure as your walls pulsed around him, sucking him in further, he gave, snapping his hips harshly into you. Your moans were lewd on his lips, traveling down his throat and feeding the fire that burned in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he groaned again, spiraling from the fact he was actually inside you this time. Not in his hand, pretending you were fucking shower water.

No, you were beneath him, latching onto his muscles like your life depended on it. He drove deeper, hitting a spot that had you gasping for air. He hit it again, and again, needing to feel you explode around him. He watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he pounded into you. God, you looked so pretty like this. All cock-drunk and needy.

He brought his thumb back to that spot on your clit. He needed you to cum soon, he wasn’t gonna last much longer seeing you like this and there was no way in hell he was going to finish before you. Your hips stuttered beneath him, walls squeezing around him and he knew you were close.

“Come on, pretty girl, you got it,” he whispered in your ear, sucking the lobe gently between his teeth. That must’ve broken you, because then you were cursing, spasming for him which triggered his own orgasm. Your cunt milked him, his seed spilling down your thighs exactly how he had pictured earlier and it was a fucking sight. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had imagined this whole thing.

He fucked out both through the waves of release, and a bit past, dropping his head into your neck to muffle the obscene groans coming from his lips. He didn’t want it to stop, but your overstimulated senses ached for reprieve.

“Dar?” you whispered once you'd both caught your breath, guiding his stubbled cheek from its hiding spot. When his eyes met yours, they were filled with so much adoration and happiness he had to hold himself back from whimpering. Never in a million years would he thought he’d get you, and here you were, looking at him like the sun shone out of his ass. The same way he looked at you for years, it was jarring to see it reciprocated. How had he missed it?

You leaned forward, tenderly capturing his lips with your own, soothing him as you always did. He knew there was so much you wanted to say, that he wanted to say, but you didn’t need to talk about it tonight. Tonight you would simply soak in each other, a gift you both thought you’d never get and one you would never let go.

He felt you giggle against his lips, and he pulled back with a lazy, fucked-out smile, "What?" he mumbled curiously.

"How's the headache now, big guy?" you teased playfully and he realized then, you'd known he was fibbing today. Saw right through his measly excuse to spend time with you.

He blushed to the tips of his ears, bowing his head to hide it, "Oh, shuddup," he mumbled, attacking your neck in kisses and nips.

Your cheeky ass was gonna pay for that tonight.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl imagines #daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #norman reedus #daryl dixon drabbles #twd drabbles #fem!reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl smut #norman reedus smut #y/n grimes #daryl x grimes reader #twd smut #daryl twd #twd fanfiction

[intynidad]

Hey, can you do shapeshifting yandere x reader who's slowly realising that the yandere has replaced their significant other?

I love this idea

I think i got a little carried away with this but i really like how it turned out

TW: yandere stuff, kidnapping (not towards reader), murder (implied), doppelgänger??

LOVE HAS MANY FORMS

It began with subtle shifts, barely noticeable at first. Changes in your partner's attitude that left you with a lingering sense of suspicion. They hadn't done anything wrong per se, but their behavior was undeniably different.

"Hello, darling," they greeted you with a gentle kiss on the cheek. "How was your day?"

It had been a month since this transformation began. "I'm okay, love. How about you?" you responded, trying to navigate this newfound affection and adoration. It was a stark contrast to the cold and distant demeanor they had maintained throughout your one-year relationship. It was as if they had become an entirely different person.

You couldn't deny the warmth that came with their displays of love. It was a welcomed change, albeit one that left you feeling slightly perplexed. The shift in their behavior raised questions in your mind. What had sparked this sudden outpouring of affection? Was it genuine, or was there something more lurking beneath the surface?

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself torn between embracing this newfound connection and cautiously questioning its authenticity. A part of you cherished the tenderness and closeness you now shared, relishing in the affectionate gestures that had previously been absent. But another part of you couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that something wasn't quite right.

Your suspicions were confirmed when you feigned sleep, only to be jolted awake by peculiar noises emanating from the basement. Intrigued and filled with trepidation, you summoned the courage to investigate, guided by the unnerving sounds that reached your ears. As you approached the basement door, your heart raced in anticipation of the truth that awaited you.

Pushing open the creaking door, your eyes widened in disbelief as you were greeted by an unexpected sight. Before you stood your partner, bound to a chair, their expression one of fear and vulnerability. And next to them stood an eerie doppelgänger, an exact replica of your beloved but radiating an unsettling aura.

Caught in this bizarre confrontation, you couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation, your heart sinking with each word uttered. Your partner, weakened and emaciated, pleaded for their release, swearing to keep the encounter a secret.

"Please let me go, I swear I won't tell anyone about this!" your partner pleaded desperately, their voice laced with fear and desperation. Their frail form seemed to have withered, contrasting sharply with the stronger, more imposing figure standing beside them.

"Let you go and then what?" the doppelgänger retorted, their tone dripping with anger and resentment. "So you can continue treating them like trash? I won't allow it."

“I don’t even like that idiot!, i just date them for a bet, I don't care if you wanna date them, do it as yourself and let me go!”

Frustration and confusion welled up inside you as you grappled with the shocking revelation unfolding before you. Your real partner, bound and vulnerable, claimed their indifference towards you, confessing that they had only entered into the relationship as part of a bet. The words stung, piercing your heart with betrayal and hurt.

"Don't you dare call them an idiot!" the doppelgänger's voice rang out, filled with fierce protectiveness and devotion. "They are the most incredible person in this world. I love them more than you could ever comprehend."

The weight of the situation bore down upon you, leaving you torn between conflicting emotions. The one you had trusted had revealed their true nature, while the doppelgänger stood as a beacon of love and adoration, professing an unwavering devotion to you.

The doppelgänger's voice, filled with anguish and resentment, pierced through the tense air once more. "I don't understand why they would choose you! I have assumed countless forms in the past, and none of them caught their interest. But you, you managed to captivate their heart effortlessly, and yet you seem unaffected. How dare you!"

The sound of their scream made you stumble backwards and accidentally stepped a little to hard on a Wooden plank that made a small noise ,it was small yet enough to caught the attention of both of the persons on the other side of the door.

“Ho-honey is that you?” The doppelgänger voice sound scared

“HELP ME Y/N IM HERE HELP” your partner voice boomed into your ears as the door opened

Your eyes went to the doppelgänger to your partner to the doppelgänger again and the cycle continues for what felt like an eternity

“STOP LOOKING AROUND LIKE AN IDIOT AND HELP ME OUT” your boyfriend pleaded in despair

You looked again at the doppelgänger eyesore they filled with fear but you knew that what they fear wasn’t they getting caught…

“How much did you hear?” The doppelgänger spoke with a shake voice

Small tears started to form in the corner of your eyes “one year … and it was all a bet” you said looking at the ground

“AND THAT WHAT YOU TOOK OUT OF THIS SITUATION,SHUT UP AND HELP ME OUT” your partner said with panic

After a moment or maybe an hour of silence you decided to lift your head and look at both of them

“Honey…” you said but this time looking at the doppelgänger

“When you finish whatever you have to do, please come back to bed, is cold without you” and gave your new “partner” a small kiss on the lips

“Yes…yes love i promise ill be quick” small happiness tears started to fall from your partner eyes it would have been a romantic scene if it wasn’t for your ex screaming on the background

“YOU STUPID WHORE, YOU ASSHOLE I HOPE YOU DIE YOU SELFISH BI-” A hit in the head and they were knocked out

“Are-are they dead?” You asked with a small amount of fear

“No, don’t worry i will not expose you to such things” your new partner gave you a kiss on your hands “ go to sleep love, ill be up in a second”

You gave one last look at the limb body of your ex significant other…and walked away

Later that night you were sleeping on your bed when a pair of warm arms hugged you from behind while whispering praises and promises of love

And for the first time, you believe them

——

Your partner slowly started to change after that day, to the rest of they world they just started to experiment with hair dye and contact lenses but you knew that they wanted to love you as their true self, and you were eager to let them love you

#yandere oc #male yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere story #yanderecore #soft yandere #yandere x reader #yandere boy #yandere darling #terat0philliac #terato #monster boyfriend #monsterfucker #monster x reader #monster x you #yandere x willing reader #yandere imagines #yandere #female yandere #yandere male #yandere x darling #yandere x male reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

Everyone from babies to young adults suddenly disappears from Amity Park, and the ghost portal self-destructs as well. The GIW and the Fentons obviously come to the conclusion that it’s ghosts but realize that this issue is way bigger than they can handle, so they call in the big guns, The Justice League.

Of course, they don’t tell the Justice League everything when they come. No matter how much they thought themselves to be heroes, they were simply glorified police in spandex. And with how they operate, they are all too small-minded and won’t be able to see the bigger picture. They also knew fully well that a lot of their methods weren’t even remotely close to being morally or ethically right, and if the JL found out, they would be screwed. So they simply told them enough to get them on their side. 

Besides, how could they not help with how many people were missing? This was going to be easy.

_______

The Justice League didn’t trust the GIW. Something about them was just off. But so many missing people were on the line, so many kids! 

Ghost?

Should they call in the JLD?

_______

Jason knew something was off with Crime Ally.

Nothing was wrong per se. In fact, everything was going great. Crime was at its lowest in like… forever. The general atmosphere was more calm, if not a bit chilly. He himself was calmer. And there were fewer kids on the streets. Which would have been a good thing if this wasn’t fuckin’ CRIME ALLY!

Jason’s been stressing himself out, trying to find out what was going on. He’s been searching up and down, talking to people left and right. No one was reporting anything amiss. Some even told him that they still saw the kids walking around, though not as often as before. And they also looked like they were being well taken care of.

He even saw and talked to some of the kids himself and it was the truth. 

But when he asked where they went, they only laughed and ran away from him. Shouting that he would know soon before they disappeared around the corner. At this point, he was sufficiently freaked out and was so close to getting Batman to contact the JLD, but something told him otherwise.

A few days later Jason was in bed. He had ended patrol early that night and intended to get a full eight hours if he could.

But as fate would have it, he would not. Because just before he could hit the hay he heard it. Well, felt it would be more accurate but how could you feel a siren’s song? Pulling you? Drawing you in. Telling you that it would give you your deepest desire.

He didn’t even bother to suit back up into Red Hood. He just followed it. Followed and followed, Until he got to a dead-end alleyway. But there was no ‘end’. All there was, was darkness. 

He began to get skeptical and took a few steps back. But the feeling was still there. Pulling, telling that all of his answers were in that darkness. Everything he wanted, needed, awaited beyond it. 

He did the stupid thing and went into the darkness.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the feeling of walking through thick goop. But the feeling didn’t last long, and he eventually stepped out.

Again, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. 

Kids running around without a care in the world, unrestricted. Teenagers just hanging out and being kids too. Whatever adults he saw all looked pretty young, but they were all happy. 

He looked around and noticed that it looked like a weird mix between a suburb and a night market, but it worked quite well. The stalls were all unmanned, and it seemed whoever could just take whatever they wanted. Dim but pretty lights connected all the stalls to as far as his eyes could see. And the sky.

In Gotham, there’s so much smog and bad weather you’d be lucky to even see a piece of blue during the day so no wonder people often forget about the night. But this, the night sky wherever he was, was beautiful, beyond what words and even thoughts could convey.

“Hello, Mr. Red Hood.”

Jason jumped. Was he so out of it that he didn’t even notice someone coming up behind-

Forget what he just said about the sky. The woman right here that was now standing before him? She- She-

“Are you single?”

There was silence. Then she giggled. Guess Jason didn’t need his helmet huh? His face was enough.

He also wanted to die again but hey, at least she laughed!

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dp dc crossover #dpxdc #another one? #wow im on a roll #the GIW were starting to kidnap and experiment on ghost and liminals as well #mostly kids #danny and the gang wasn't having it #so after talking with CW he found out he could use his newfound Ghost King authority and transport everyone to a safe place! #He did ask everyone's permission first tho #after negotiating with Lady Gotham he was allowed to have a subspace between normal Gotham and ghost Gotham #as long as he helped maintain the balance on both sides #this is a ploy between LG and CW to start teaching their King how to care for his people #both living and non living #did I mention #anger management

[creatingblackcharacters]

"Defying the Default"- Skin Tones and the Presence of Black Characters

Okay, this one is going to be half lesson and half a thought experiment- it may get a bit frustrating, as conversations like this often do- but remember, discomfort is not always a bad thing! So I ask that you walk with me for this one.

It’s also interesting, because I’m going to direct this towards everyone (readers included!), but specifically towards my fanfic writers of media with no visual medium, as I’ve noticed this pattern there, and it makes up a good amount of creators on this site. Okay? Okay.

Behold! Many shades of brown!

I had to wade through a lot of colorism for this, and even this link is subtly racist in its introduction- the idea that brown is ‘unexciting’ 🙄.

Anyway, you know where I’m going with this:

"Chocolate and Coffee"

Even the link above pulled this! Writers who use this... they’re not ‘wrong’ per se but… often uninspired. It feels... Lazy. When you can tell an author has put no thought into the brown of choice, it makes Black readers feel like you believe these are the only shades of brown- that that’s all we look like. Even chocolate is more diverse (white, milk, dark, marbled, cookies and cream?) Coffee can come in numerous shades as well (light, medium, dark roast? Type of bean?)

My first direction to help with this: make it a point to know what shade that character is (whether canonically, or if you're the original creator, look at a reference and write it down) and find a name! Be consistent! Find similar browns to one another. If the canon Black character's skin color is done poorly, find something similar and use that! (I'll get more into this in the next lesson!)

Our skin colors may modify as we age, it changes over the seasons/presence in the sun, and some people even have vitiligo! But we're not gonna be “dark roast coffee” one morning and “light milk chocolate” suddenly. We're not chameleons lmao.

And you know what? That shade you choose might very well be 'coffee'! But it's not going to be because you didn't look and assumed we're all some random brown! That’s the intent showing! If we can find endless ways to describe the beauty of white/pale skin, we absolutely can for brown! Be willing to unpack why you may not believe brown to be capable of beauty, and work through unlearning that- it will show in your writing! One way is by pausing with yourself, and recognizing when you had a biased thought. Even by this, you’re learning!

Here’s where I want us to get into the thought experiment:

I want you to think about the description of characters in stories (as a whole). Challenge yourself- in the fics and stories you read, how often is anyone blatantly labeled 'White'? Read a story or fic; how long can you imagine them as not-White before it's ever clarified? Because not even 'pale' automatically implies a White person!

You know how I’ve mentioned before that 'Black people are not a monolith'? I can find you at least some examples of Black people fitting some of the common descriptions of white characters.

"Brunette with brown eyes"

(Fun fact: I actually learned back in my Masters program that genetically no one has ‘black’ hair- our eyes are processing it as black, but it’s really just dark brown due to eumelanin. Regardless, if you stand us in the direct sunlight, you will see that our hair is usually just dark brown!)

"Red hair with pale skin"

“‘tanned’ skin with hazel/green eyes”

“blond hair" (period!)

Now, I’m not saying that blond haired Black people or Black folk with albinism are overly representative of my people. What I AM saying is that it needs to not be taken for granted that a reader is automatically assuming a character is White in your piece of fiction- I can assume your character looks like anything if it's not stated! Especially if the OG source is a book or a podcast! We’re just used to assigning these features- and characters- as white until ‘proven not’! The default!

I am guilty of this too! Even still, I reread many of my works and go ‘ah, I didn’t clarify.’ And I have to work on doing better at it. This is having intent for your Black characters, but really, it’s having intent for all of them!

(This doesn't mean going “the Black man said,” the way sometimes people say “the Chinese said” (which…. Tbh we should all stop doing that anyway, it's weird and racist))

My Next Challenge:

Some people may disagree, but- Ahem:

Say BLACK!

Breathe lmao! Take the time to recognize that it's OKAY to introduce a character as Black, to say Black, it's fine! Obviously be sensitive about it, don't shove it in there to “win your diversity points”, but like… People are Black. It's not a bad word. What matters is the context in which you used it!

You don't even have to say it every single time. Really just the first, introductory sentence will do. For example:

“[Character A], a bright, young, Black girl with knotless braids to her mid back, glittering hair clips matching her bright green t-shirt, and a brilliant smile that shined against her bistre skin.”

I recognize that some might argue that by saying “bistre”, you don't need to say Black. But 1) you don't have to be Black to be brown or dark skinned, and 2) There's a social stigma behind even saying Black- of discussing race in general, because it leads to discomfort. Race (as a sociological construct) exists. When we say nothing about it, allowing Whiteness to be the default, we're still emphasizing race, however silently! If you're already doing it... Why not mention it? 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

(here's a good clip of Ijeoma Oluo discussing the difficulty of discussing race; while I highly recommend the whole thing, the relevant clip is 4:25-5:39)

Maybe they're in the Black student organization in a lead position, maybe they're in a Black main cast of a play- it's okay to have those things in the story to help develop the idea that your Black character is actively Black! Just do your research to make sure you’re not leaning into stereotypes!

“There’s no races in my fantasy/future world!”

That’s fair! But I want to give you an example of how people will still project these identities onto your characters anyway:

No one has an explicitly stated 'race' in Avatar: The Last Airbender (afaik); they’re all divided by element culture. YET, many people were offended that a mixed-Korean actress was cast in her role in the live action- they ‘just didn’t see it’, because subconsciously they'd imagined her ‘face claims’ as WHITE, despite it never once being mentioned in the canon! (there’s also a firm sexualization and east Asian fetishization argument to be made about it, but that’s not within the scope of this particular conversation.)

Point is, if you are including humanoid characters in your fantasy stories, fine. You don't need to say ‘Black’ outright. But, that just means that you’re going to have to be even more detailed in your description. Because if I were watching a TV show and a Black actor shows up as an elf… I know what features I’m seeing! Entire protests have occurred over the casting of Black actors in a role ‘meant for a white person’; so... everyone sees it!

Conclusion

This is another reason why intention in character design and writing is important! Context clues and socialization help me understand who your character is. If it works like this for white characters, it can work like that for everyone else! You just have to know enough about me to write it in (and that's where the social and societal bias lie, because how much do you really know about me?)

A way to better understand this is reading books by Black authors (for fantasy, I would highly recommend Raybearer by Jordan Ifueko and Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi) as well as Black literary classics! Finding and reading Black fic authors in fandoms with Black characters! By learning how we describe ourselves and our skin colors, you’ll learn and practice how to appropriately describe us!

Now I can't make you do any of this! But I do want you all- writers especially- to start noticing our bias, how we may default to the experience of whiteness- and how that affects the way we write. When we have Black characters, and really any character of color, we need to start paying attention to how often their features, culture, and activities are emphasized, even for what we may consider to be 'background' details. That’s how we normalize creation and understanding, and become better at writing!

It’s just something to practice; remember, it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

In addition, if you are interested in a simple read into why approaching race is so uncomfortable as a whole, I've attached Robin DiAngelo's book here! Thank you to the PDF guru @toiletpotato for the link!

#creatingblackcharacters #character design #black characters #black writers