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garbage--account · 7 months

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Random dream I had because it is horny spooky season 👻 #5 :

>sets in the Hakuren version of Honosuto (if this doesn't exist yet, please make one)

>Hakuren organises a race for their sport festival

>!!!concept warning!!! : participants are paired by 2 and have to find a specific item hidden in a spooky forest, that they have to find by searching clues without getting lost and then exit the forest as soon as possible. Since the forest is known to be cursed, participants must exchange one of their belonging to another participant (preferably with someone dear if they are racing too) before entering. The item you gave to the other person protects you from the curse and the item they gave you protects them : don't lose or break it (before you exit, never preferably). Whether the item is expensive/precious doesn't matter tho.

>Shirou is paired with Someoka for the race and gives Atsuya his mental institute bracelet. Atsuya is paired with Nae and gives Shirou his Nokia 3310.

>Atsuya : "You better be careful with my cellphone, if you break it, you pay. Even if there is no chance you could break this phone. It is not you who break the Nokia 3310, it's the Nokia 3310 who breaks your hips. Unlike the piece of paper trash you just gave me 🤮 Why are you so cheap Aniki 😡"

>The race starts

>splittingthegang.mp3

>0.0001673 seconds later, Atsuya and Nae got lost in some random cave below a spooky abandonned house, where they had to fight a crusty-ass hobo screaming "the queen has returned!!!"

>Nae complains because they are lost and far to find the object they must find to win, while climbing behind Atsuya

>Meanwhile Atsuya : "WHY THE FUCK THEY PUT THIS IN THAT BUTTHOLE?!" (yes, the fucking object was here so they successfully failed at losing)

>Also Atsuya : "oh no, a rock" *proceeds to fall dramatically and rip Shirou's bracelet*

>Meanwhile, Shirou be like "Someoka, look those funny looking sticks ! Those must be clues left by the school...."

The sticks :

>But Shirou was alone all along *omnious music playing*

>Later, Atsuya and Nae are on the finishing line, slurping on milk as if it was some alcoholized cocktail with MDMA and with sunglasses on 😎🍹

>they saw Someoka coming back from the forest without Shirou because he lost him and didn't even found the item they were looking to win the race 😭

>"this is so sad", Nae gave him milk to drown the sadness

TW this is getting inappropriate 🙈🙉🙊 if you're under 18 or don't wanna read dirty stuff, don't read blow i don't wanna get blocked or reported for this

>meanwhile, Shirou got attacked by an invisible force

Shirou : BITCH WHY ARE YOU HERE ?! *proceeds to throw fits to the air, runs away dramatically and trips over nothing while the spirit possesses him*

>it turns out to be the ghost of Cupcakke's great great grandmother (her house was the abandonned one with the hobo). The ghost possesses all the flops in the forest to get revenge on every Da Boyz she can find. Those who are possessed can only express themselves through Cupcakke songs and remixes lyrics.

>Then, Shirou and the flops (=half of the participants 'cause Atsuya is not the only dumbass to have lost/broken the object they were supposed to take care) start to smack and snatch the wigs of those who are still in the forest and doing naked rituals to revive random floptok icons

>some survivors of those attacks made it out the finishing line and told the unspeakable horrors they have witnessed

>them and the others who were outta the forest googled "how to exorcize a person in 0.01 second" and found all the infos about the flop curse

>Meanwhile, Atsuya : *hands a piece of paper to Nae*

Nae : "why are u givin me this?"

Atsuya : "it's my Phone number"

Nae : "ew, stop flirting with me 🤮"

Atsuya : "BITCH *slaps her* it's to localize Aniki, he has my Phone !"

Nae : *dials number*

*ringtone ringing in the background*

Atsuya : "ok he's over there"

Nae : "how do you even know ?"

Atsuya : "u dumb bitch, are you even serious 🤬"

Someoka : *remembers he is in the story* "okay, imma gonna find him" *re-enters the forest*

>Back in the forest, Someoka caught Shirou half-naked while doing Da Boyz sacrifice to Jiafei, but Shirou got away of his claws by saying "Papi"

>Someoka got scared and tried to run away but can still hear the "smack my ass like a drum" and "POOSAY" close behind him

>the 2 kept going even out of the forest.

>Quickly, people seized Shirou and started the exorcism, but he started to vomit c*m on ppl, turning in head behing his back, walking at 4 legs upside down, and screams other unappropriate stuff in the Cupcakke discography (ex : change thongs 2 times a day, i save d*cks by giving them cpr, i'm horny, etc.)

>the exorcisms aren't exorcising

>at some point, he shouted "only d*ck can hurt my ass" and his poosay dropped the Nokia 3310

>suddenly, Atsuya became intelligent and got an idea 💡🤓 #smartera

Atsuya : guys, he just gave away the solution, we know how to exorcise him !

Ppl : *unzips pants* alright we have to make the ghost cum ?

Atsuya : NO U BUNCH OF HORNY FUCKBOIS, BEAT THE GHOST UP WITH THE DAMN PHONE *beats all the homophobes here and then his bro with the Nokia*

>Later, at the hospital, Atsuya tells his bro he was possessed by some horny spirit along with a bunch of girls and how his phone saved the universe from greater evil, while Shirou (who just regained conciousness) is wondering why his poosay itches so much 😳

The end 💅 Hope you enjoyed 💋

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theroseempress · 10 months

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find it game

Got tagged by @indigowriting for sing, around, lack, and borrow! Thanks for the tag, this was quite fun!

sing- technically this is singING, but I couldn't find 'sing' on its own anywhere. (from an unnamed superhero story I work on sometimes)

'As Ira had explained, Nightmare and Conductor were about fifteen feet down the hallway, having just emerged from another stairwell. Nightmare was speed-walking, Conductor skipping alongside her and singing something under her breath. Trickster momentarily closed his eyes, hastily forcing the air around him and Ira into stillness before the sound could reach them. Ira wrinkled his nose at the sudden absence of sound, raising an eyebrow at Trickster. The young man put a finger to his ear. “HB, found Night and Con, about to engage.” he murmured, casting his gaze back at said capes as they headed down the hall. “Any input?”'

around- (from a TGC backstory snippet I wrote a while ago)

'Rani let the cold metal of two of her daggers slip from her sleeves to her palms, slender fingers wrapping around the worn hilts. A pause to steady herself and check they were both hidden from sight, and then she was pouncing forwards with a silence so well-practiced it was almost an afterthought. One, two, three strides across the stones, avoiding a puddle that would have caused a splash, and now she was in range and both hands went up, daggers slicing through the cloudy day.'

lack- (from a snippet I wrote the other day)

'Astin avoided the grab without looking and sent the guard sprawling back with an elbow to the throat, barely a hitch in his stride. “Ciel Marlais,” he snarled with a complete lack of proper etiquette, stopping before Ciel’s desk and slamming gloved hands onto the marbled top with a thunk. “you celestial-dammed excuse for a misbegotten piece of sundust, you-”'

borrow- did not manage to find any.

Gonna tag @ettawritesnstudies @daisywords @hallwriteblr if any of y'all are interested, your words are flinch, snap, smile, and fire!

#tag games #my writing #the golden city #backburner wips #rani ruewen #astin star #ciel marlais #have i ever tagged the superhero chaps before? might as well now #trickster #eversor #heartbreaker #nightmare #conductor #ira darken #huh that's alotta tags #well i enjoyed this! it was like a scavenger hunt! for words!

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rw-ink · 2 years

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Prompt 38: A Pencil Rubbing Of A Gravestone.

Lmao.

I’m not going to a graveyard to rub the words from a gravestone onto a piece of paper. Just seemed slightly disrespectful to me. So what I did was I decided to do a Nightmare Before Christmas themed page. I found a blank coloring page and I used charcoal to “color” it in as I really wanted to do monochrome

Coloring page http://www.getcoloringpages.com/coloring/24890

Zero sticker https://www.redbubble.com/i/sticker/Zero-by-philos25/41874334.EJUG5

#the pocket scavenger #Keri smith #a pencil rubbing of a gravestone #nightmare before christmas #zero

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rabbivole · 8 months

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got sidetracked for a bit because the roadtrip queue is currently empty and i am fixing that, but good news i thought about stuff for 20 minutes and am Feeling Abnormal About Him again. good morning kings let's push this shitty boulder some more

#how the fuck do the kids scavenge for their ~faceclaims~ these days #i need a giant searchable database of human variation that somehow isn't also a privacy nightmare

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an-undercover-bi · 1 year

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Class is just starting up and already I am facing issues with my accommodations.

#ugh #delete later #hi I spent 6 hours today on one assignment #purely because of technological issues from things not meshing with the touchscreen I have to use #://////#life is a nightmare #the assignment was only two pages and basically a scavenger hunt of the syllabus and classroom software used #but the softwares don’t all mesh with iOS devices so I am having Problems

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uh-vkt · 1 year

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Hello I’m an artist, writer, and animator. This is how my main name (Uh-VKT-ig) is pronounced: Uh, Vee-Kay-Tee, I guess

Btw, this is now a place for reblogging and other things, if you want to see more art from me, you’ll have to find my art blog (shouldn’t be too hard, right)

Here is some information about me, what I like, and what I’ve created.

Things I am in/like:

Roleplays (RPs, but only if it’s of a fandom I’m in/know or about ocs, AUs are also fine)

Happy Tree Friends (HTF)

Unicorn Wars

Invader Zim (IZ)

Pikmin (Captain olimar is a favorite)

Wednesday (the show, but the day is pretty good too)

Glitter Force/Smile Precure

Stranger Things

Coraline

Splatoon (All games)

Minecraft

Anything Mario related (Theres only a few games I know)

Sonic (I don’t know that much about Sonic, but he’s cool)

My Little Pony (I don’t like the new generation :/)

Puss In Boots

Hazbin Hotel

Helluva Boss

FNAF (Mostly Sister Location and Security Breach)

Cats, Butterflies (I literally have a whole world dedicated to them), foxes, tigers and bears (thank HTF and Kapow for that), Deers, snakes (I LOVE THEM)

Aesthetic things (space things, color palettes, organized stuff idk)

Halloween, Christmas, Easter, Valentine’s Day, and Birthdays (yeah I count birthdays as a holiday)

Film making/Behind the scenes

ANYTHING clown related

The aesthetic of gambling (did I word that right?)

Gore and stuff (it’s pretty ok)

Yu-Gi-Oh (Zexal and Arc-V or whatever it’s called, I also like Vrains but I don’t know much about it)

(About the inbox, you can ask many questions as you want about anything, except personal stuff obviously, just please don’t spam, I want to keep this blog more “organized” now. I accept drawing requests and ship requests as long as I know what it is, it’s not that hard for me to do, and I’m comfortable with it.)

The “Currently into” in my bio just shows what I am really interested in at the moment; might take me a bit to change it from time to time though

I talk ALOT about stuff I’m currently really interested in to (seriously, if you get me to talk about something I love, I will most likely talk non-stop)

I love making friends so don’t be afraid to talk to me lol

Probably Autistic and has ADHD

I do have trust issues sometimes so I’m sorry if I’m skeptical about you

I do have a discord, two youtube (YT) channels, and a switch account. If you want to know what they are, just ask me and I’ll send it to you (if I trust you)

I have a fear of fireworks, and most likely spiders.

I am a bit slow with just about everything, so please do be patient with me

I do work on little things like drawings and all that, but I do create a few species and worlds like:

The Living Phobias

The Nymphalid Society

The Dream World (DR) and Scavengers of Nightmares (SoN)

And of course, a few AU’s of different fandoms I’m in!

(if you’d like to know more about them just ask, my inbox is mostly always empty lol)

Here’s my art through out the years:

2021

2022

Here’s some reference sheets of my Ocs:

Jester Kingswell (???)

Nightmare Personally (SoN)

Soul Core Deer (SoN)

#I’m gonna be updating this post multiple times #character stuff #fandom stuff #the dream realm #scavengers of nightmares #the nymphalid society #the living phobias #art things #a little bit about me

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faeriekit · 1 month

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The Foster Mother

Now on ao3 and VHS release

There was, supposedly, someone waiting for him in the green sitting room.

“…Why?” Tim asked. Most of the usual suspects had already come by to give their “condolences”—former Drakes Industries investors, curious about the newly orphaned heir; fellow socialites, once again flocking in to give and receive sympathies for their “close friends, the Drakes”; gawkers come to see what they could scavenge off of a dead family’s home, never mind that their child was alive.

“She claims to know you, Master Tim,” Alfred offered, kettle in his hand. He spent a moment deciding between different two canisters of tea; a sign of possibly difficult future conversation. “Her interest in your father's estate seemed quite…minimal.”

…Alright.

Tim was still in his formalwear. Dissolving Drake Industries would take at least another year, and plenty of future hours cementing the future home of certain resources in their dissolution, but the outfit probably was more appropriate for whatever oncoming conversation that was about to ensue than his planned change into Dick’s old hoodie and board shorts.

Okay. Tim steeled himself. The self-determination…mostly worked. Whatever. He trudged up into the green sitting room from the kitchen with his usual introduction ready on his tongue.

And then Tim walked into the room.

And then Jazzy was there.

Tim had been three, and Miss Jasmine had been his had been his third nanny. He’d outgrown the wetnurse early on, and his second nanny had been dismissed, so although Miss Jasmine was the third nanny, she was first nanny Tim could consciously remember.

She’d had red hair. She’d been very gentle with him.

She got him up in the morning and put him to bed at night; for the first time, there had been someone who sat with him until he was asleep, reading all sorts of books his parents had left to engage him with as an early genius. Then, when those were over and done as promised to his parents, they got unauthorized books from the library: silly books with made-up words, dinosaur books, books about teddy bears and adventures around the world.

Tim hadn’t been allowed to travel the world. Tim hadn’t been allowed a teddy bear. His parents had thought it would encourage undue attachment.

(It had been the same reason he’d never been given a pacifier.)

Miss Jazz had given him a knitted bunny. She’d said her dad had made it especially for him.

The toy’s name was Bunny and Tim remembered him being very soft.

She didn’t smile all the time, but smiles were rewards that were easy to earn. He finished his meal and she smiled. He finished an educational puzzle and she smiled. He was quiet all through her phone call and she smiled, and answered all his questions once she was done.

Jazzy had been the first person in his life who was there all the time. She’d kissed his forehead after the bath and kissed his scraped knees; she’d carried him in his arms when he was tired and sometimes even when he wasn’t. His parents had wanted him to be independent, proactive, and not clingy, but Jazzy had been someone who he could run to from his bed when he’d had nightmares and someone he could cuddle on her lap with when he’d cried.

She was gone when he was seven. He didn’t remember why. His parents had probably never told him, but still; he'd assumed he'd have found out why eventually.

Jazzy looked the same right now as she looked in Tim’s memories, although she was likely no longer a college student at a nannying gig. Her red hair was pulled into a high bun, her dress modest and conservative from her neck to her ankles. There was a backpack beside her foot. She was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, on the high-backed loveseat in the green sitting room.

She looked up when he came in.

Tim. Stopped in his tracks.

It didn’t matter. Jazzy—Miss Jasmine stood up as soon as she saw him, eyes alight with worry. Foggy memories were swimming to the forefront of Tim’s brain. He couldn’t move.

“Tim?” Ja—Miss Jasmine asked, teal eyes raking over his frame. Tim froze where he was. He didn’t move, wide-eyed and terrified for no reason at all when Miss Jasmine got closer to him, at a distance that was more appropriate for a conversation.

She stood there. Watching him. It felt like his mother had just come home from her trips with Dad, and a ghost of old terror wafted through him as he waited for her to decide he’d done something wrong. Her voice got softer. Her eyes got softer. Why was Tim feeling so wrong-footed?? It was only a former staff person!

“Tim?” her voice was so gentle. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m—“

“M’s Jazz,” Tim croaked. Which. Wasn’t the level of formality he’d been going for, but better than Jazzy. He wasn’t a toddler anymore.

Miss Jasmine was so tall—honestly, was she taller than Bruce? She’d seemed insurmountable as a child; he hadn’t expected her height to truly be so statuesque as an adult.

(Or. Well. Almost an adult.)

She didn’t quite kneel down, but she did stoop lower, as if Tim was small and he needed to be on equal footing in order to have a serious conversation.

He could see all her freckles. Tim swallowed. It was too familiar. Everything about her was too familiar.

“You’re so big now,” Jazzy whispered, looking at his hair, his suit, his polished shoes. He didn’t feel it. “Oh, you’ve grown up so well.”

Thanks, Tim almost said. Something stopped him—something thick in his throat, to impassable to break through.

“I—“ he tried. He coughed. “Why…you… You’re here?”

Jazzy threw him an incredulous look, and then an incredibly wry one. “Well,” she drawled a little too primly, in the way that Alfred occasionally made obvious statements, “I’d think it obvious that when one’s parents have passed away, that those who care about you might come to check and see if you’re alright.”

Which. That didn’t make sense. Jazzy hadn’t come back for any other reason; she hadn’t come back for his mother’s funeral, nor when his father was injured publicly by a villain. Why start now?

“And,” Jazz added, seeing his visual confusion and distrust, “Your parents can’t exactly threaten me with a kidnapping charge for visiting you when they’re dead.” Pause. “Which I am sorry about. My condolences.”

Which. Whiplash. What a statement.

“Uh,” said Tim, who was rapidly losing control over the situation.

Jazzy stood again, and went back to her seat; she didn’t set herself down, though, as she only stooped to grab her backpack. “I am sorry for being unable to visit, although I really wanted to; you were at a very vulnerable age and had already moved into a class a year above you, and your parents should have been less hasty about replacing your main caretaker. The assassination attempts were unwarranted, but they did drive the point home that attempting contact was perhaps discouraged.”

“What,” said Tim. “Assassin what.”

“They were ninjas,” Jazzy offered, as if that was an answer. “Except the last one, which was a former marine. The point is that I do care about you, and wanted to ask if you had any idea where you’re going now that your parents are no longer…available guardians.”

Tim’s mouth opened. It closed.

Jazzy waited patiently.

“…How have you been?” Tim tried, resorting to a part of the script they hadn’t gone through yet.

Jazzy’s laugh was tired, but no less real. It was nothing like listening to his parents titter politely; he didn’t think Jazzy would even know how to fake a laugh. “Well, my brother told me that my former bosses had died, which was somewhat stressful. Otherwise, I’m pretty happy: I live with my brother and worked with him for the last few years. I was going to pursue medicine, but…well. The assassination attempts made it hard to interview for scholarships. I suppose that I could return to that now,” Jazzy mused, attention now elsewhere. She pulled the backpack off the floor and up into her grip. She opened it, and flipped through its contents. “How are you doing? I know that Wayne Manor fosters, but your parents were always rather…hands off. I thought the difference in levels of attention might be overwhelming.”

It was. Tim should be surprised how clearly she sees through him—

—But Jazzy used to watch him stim for almost a full hour after school, twisting Bunny’s arms back and forth until he could calm down. Seeing other people all day had been too much for him. Coming home from his parents’ parties had been similarly stressful.

She’d never been mad at him for it. She held him while he talked and stimmed and talked and talked and talked, and brushed his hair sometimes, or if it was very late and he was very young, helped him brush his teeth through all the medieval execution facts he could name.

“It is a lot to get used to,” Tim agreed quietly. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. He didn’t want to let on anyone about his plan to leave.

He had an out. The papers had already been filed; there was an actor waiting to play his uncle for a custody battle, ready for the fight.

Tim was ready to up and go. It was no hardship to leave all the good things here; anything beat making Bruce stick his fingers into Tim any deeper than they already were, compromising the dynamic they’d already established.

It was for the best.

“I can imagine,” Jazzy sympathized easily. “And I wanted to offer—well. I know there’s probably a lot of choices available to you, but my brother and I recently moved back to Gotham proper for the time being. He’s teaching astronomy courses at the university and I’m filing paperwork for Arkham patients. It’s not so privileged a home, but it’s quieter, and more central in town.”

…Tim’s heart skipped.

He. He couldn’t stop staring. Jazzy stared back at him, quiet and sure. Sure of what, Tim had no idea, but…

Why? Why would she want Tim? There was no way she would be able to get to his trust fund without his help, and he for sure knew better than to enable her ability to leech from him. The last time she’d known him, Tim had been a snot-nosed kid who cried all the time and couldn’t be normal for twenty consecutive minutes. His parents couldn’t even stand to be on the same hemisphere as him as a child. What appeal did this have for her?? What could having a teenager with severe baggage living in her house do for her?

And it’s not like there was any chance she knew he was Robin!

“Oh,” Jazzy suddenly interrupted. “I brought these for you, by the way. Your parents had tossed them out at various points; I’ve washed them since, of course.”

She handed him the backpack by the handle.

…Tim peeked inside.

On top was Bunny, still a washed-out faded sort of pink. He looked as fresh as he had the day when Tim’s parents had ”cleaned out” Tim’s nursery—in other words, a faded, a little gray, and slightly discolored from an old spaghetti stain. His button eyes were big and blue.

And beneath him were books that hadn’t passed his father’s muster as appropriately masculine reading material: The Velveteen Rabbit, with the cover a little scarred from a fierce attack of wet wipes. There’s A Monster at the End of This Book, with a goofy-looking Muppet on the cover, gold spine beat up beyond belief. Art Tim’s teacher at the time must have laminated and sent home; Tim’s dorky, crayon cat proved he would never make it as an artist, but attached to it was a photograph of a grinning boy with a bowl cut and a missing tooth.

Tim stared. There’d been purple marker on his hands and face. His grin looked…really bad, actually, like as if he was baring his teeth because he didn’t know how to smile. There was no formal grace there. Nothing to show the neighbors, nothing worth framing to put into the line of sight of the investors in the office.

Jazzy had kept it and brought it home with her. Jazzy had fished it out of the trash, and brought it with her to give back to him in Gotham.

It was crinkled like it’d been folded, over and over again. Further down in the bag was a crumpled certificate dedicated to “Timmy Drake, for: knowing a lot about octopi”, and a baby blanket Tim didn’t even remember. It had rocket ships on it. It looked as if someone had cut into it with scissors, although it had been obviously and brightly mended with red embroidery floss later on.

Jazzy had only been his nanny until Tim was seven. She had simply been gone one night, and Mom and Dad had been home for ten nights after without help before giving in and hiring Mrs. McIlvane and Mrs. Edith. Ms. Edith had never been so…permissive…with Tim as Jazzy had been.

Tim swallowed. He carefully put everything back into the backpack, unsure if he even wanted to keep it or not. It wasn’t like he could leave it here; he’d be gone, ideally, before the week was out. There was no point in taking it with him if he only planned to live with a stranger until he was eighteen.

“J…” Tim tried. He cut himself off before he could get too informal without prompting. “Miss Jasmine—“

“Just Jazz,” Jazzy corrected politely.

“—Why are you here?” Tim asked, ignoring how she’d technically already answered. He didn’t believe her. “What made my parents fire you?”

Jazzy’s expression turned…soft. Tim couldn’t look at her. Something horrible was welling with it, and he didn’t know how to cope.

“I’m here because I care about you,” Jazz repeated, and knelt beside him. She looked up into his face, and took his hand. Tim didn’t know why. He was practically an adult—he didn’t need this!

“And I was fired because your Mother overheard you calling me ‘Mommy’ on accident when you were tired. I suppose she was insulted, although I’d never know why; it’s not like she was ever home to bond with you in the first place.”

Tim’s throat closed. He missed his mom. He missed waiting up for his parents’ flight home, seeing their headlights outside the window, and knowing they’d bring home gifts from overseas. He missed using Mom’s perfume, and knowing he’d used more of the bottle sitting on her dressed than she ever had, but that it still smelled like her. He missed hearing his Dad telling all sorts of adventure stories and promises through the phone to be home for the holidays, even if Tim knew there was every chance he’d find some other way to spend the time back in Gotham.

And there was some small child in him who missed Jazzy, who hugged him and walked him to the library and made him soup from a can instead of fancy dinners and, who’d never needed to be waited for in the first place.

Tim looked at Jazzy’s round, freckled face.

He swallowed.

Tim moved out before the end of the week, as expected.

#dp x dc #Jazz fenton #tim drake #that one time Tim specifically hired a fake uncle so that Bruce couldn't adopt him #free to a good home #Jack Fenton knits btw #I'm not going to continue this but i thought it was a cool premise and needed its time. Have fun with it if you want to!#this is dedicated to all the fulltime nannies at the library who are fully just college girls raising babies #dpxdc #dcxdp #Jazz said is anyone going to raise this baby and was targeted by ninjas for it #I don't have any future plans BUT there is a moment where Dick tries to sneak into her apt to 'check it out' and she fully Gets Him with a #TBI and a Fenton CreepStickTM #also. parents who try to shape their kids by denying them every form of human comfort and access to their interests. You're dead to me #also also also I'm still a Tim Drake Autistic truther #not NOT inspired by the Say Uncle by Megarakles. This one's for you fellow fans #also. if he goes with her. He gets parented for the first time ever and it Sucks Ass lol.#faer fic

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brnesblogposts · 2 months

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3am kitchen meetings with bucky

pairing bucky barnes x reader

words600

warnings none!

3AM. you could not sleep no matter how hard you tried, you had a lot on your mind lately which was not helping. at 3:02 you finally gave in and got up, maybe a cup of hot chocolate might help you sleep.

after putting the hot chocolate in the microwave, you scavenged through the cupboards to find some snacks. a bag of doritos caught your eye and you put them in a bowl.

you screamed a little too loud when you saw someone out of the corner of your eye standing in the dim light,

"BUCKY WHAT THE HELL" you whisper shouted.

"i didn't meant to scare you, doll. what are you doing up at this hour anyway?" he asked inquisitively,

"couldn't sleep. what about you?"

"same here." he shrugged.

"nightmare?" you asked sympathetically,

"mhm"

poor bucky was always having nightmares, you felt sorry for him. he was getting better though, the therapy and shuri's technology was working.

"do you want to join me and watch a movie?" you inquired and be nodded. you both made your way to the living room, he had grabbed the doritos and you had your hot chocolate. when you sat on the couch you noticed he was pretty far away from you so you patted the seat next to you.

"buck," you gave him the best puppy eyes you had and to your surprise they worked. he scooted over to where your thighs were almost touching, it made you feel safe, you liked it.

"what do you wanna watch?" you asked with curiosity,

"whatever you want, doll'" he gave a weak smile.

you had decided on a cheesy romcom, how could anyone dislike them? it was called "what's your number", you sipped on your hot chocolate and ate your doritos.

about halfway through you felt your eyes growing heavy and your head falling. you didn't notice but your head landed on buckys shoulder, your hand still in the bowl of doritos.

bucky didn't know what to do in this situation, he moved the bowl away and set it on the table, trying not to wake you in the process. he looked at you and his gaze softened. he didn't know whether to move you to your room or leave you, you looked peaceful and he didn't want to ruin that.

he put a blanket over you and at some point you'd moved your head into his lap? he had drifted off lightly not noticing.

bucky noticed he felt safe and comfortable with you lying on him, but it was almost 5am so he decided it was best to move you to your room before anyone else woke up which would ultimately disturb you.

he picked you up gently, you stirred a little and he froze but you soon settled back down, he carried you to your room. he soaked in the moment for just a second before he lay you on your bed and put the covers over you.

bucky turned on his heel to leave but was stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist,

"no, stay" is all you said with your eyes still closed.

bucky was perplexed, he thought of it as a one time thing so he lay on the other side of the bed on top of the covers and you held onto him as you slept.

at some point in the early hours of the morning bucky ended up under the covers with you, holding you towards his chest.

it was the best nights sleep he'd had in years.

#writerblr #avengers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff

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keuwibloom · 5 months

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Its been a while since ive posted anything Parasynth, so I thought id make these polaroid-inspired drawings to make up for it!

As an added bonus-- I have nicknames for the guys! I actually made these a while back, but I figured id post them here for organization purposes, and so its easier to differentiate when talking about Parasynth.

The nicknames + my reasons behind choosing them listed below the cut!

Blue "Polaris" - Also known as the "north star", polaris is the only stationary star in the night sky, commonly used as a compass for navigation. A star that symbolizes stability when you've lost your way.

Dream "Apollo/Pol" - Named after the Greek god of the sun, music, medicine, and archery, twin brother to Artemis. Went with this because of the twin thing and sun symbolism, plus the healer and archery association.

Ink "Opal" - Opal is a gemstone that shines with rainbow colors. A true opal gem also has a base color of white, which fits with Ink's whole thing. Ink also calls others "pal" so I thought the name would be a nice reference to that.

Axe "Condor/Kon" - A large scavenger bird, related to the vulture. One species of it is the largest flying bird in the world. A condor's head also has no feathers, which kinda reminds me of Axe's skull.

Nightmare "Artemis/Arte" - Named after the Greek goddess of the moon and the hunt, twin sister to Apollo. Chosen for the same reasoning as Dream's nickname. Artemis is also the goddess of wilderness and wild animals, which fits with the gang (in a "they're a group and they are dangerous" way).

Killer "Shrike" - A cute little passerine bird that is known to impale its prey on sharp things, usually thorns. Shrikes are also known as "butcher birds". I think it fits with his vibe, plus shrikes have these black markings over their eyes that remind me of Killer's eyes.

Dust "Owl" - A nocturnal bird that has eerily silent flight and large eyes that reflect light in the dark so it looks like its glowing. I was in between this one and "Kestrel", but I feel like Owl fits Dust's general vibe better.

Cross "Cypress/Cy" - A tree that symbolizes longevity and endurance, but also mourning. It's also associated with protection and strength. I was looking for stuff that was associated with the goddess Artemis and the cypress tree was one (also the gang as birds and Cross as the tree they rest on).

Error "Oregano" - An herb that has a very strong bitter/peppery taste and smell. It's known to have antiviral properties and other benefits, but it is best used in small amounts. I also chose this name to parallel Opal (rock VS plant).

Swap/Blue belongs to the AU Community

Dream and Nightmare belong to Jokublog

Ink belongs to Comyet

Horror/Axe belongs to Sour-Apple-Studios

Killer belongs to Rahafwabas

Dust belongs to Ask-Dusttale

Cross belongs to Jakei95

Error belongs to Loverofpiggies

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ceruleancattail · 6 months

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A Drabble on discord that got out of control. Oops-

Negotiations

Nightfall Leona x diplomat reader

You’ve been sent to situations less tense then this.

It’s ironic, as someone who’s worked with the government before. Intertwining your fingers, your nails dug deep into the flesh of your palm. A deterrent from trembling. Shaking. A flaw in your composure.

You know. The moment they even smell a hint of weakness from you, the slightest bit of fear, and it’s over. They’ll surround you like a pack of scavengers, tearing into you like you’re their last meal.

”It’ll be an easy job! Just talk to them. It’s what you’re trained to do, after all!”

You could still hear the laughter from your boss echoing in your ears. The vague assurances of backup. The way his hand slammed against your back casually, telling you that you would be fine. There was nothing to fear, really.

Yet amid the cloying, choking stench of cigarette smoke and the mournful moans of the ocean’s waves, you’ve never felt more afraid.

Sighing, you lean against one of the harbour’s posts. Glancing around warily, gaze flickering from one end to the other. Waiting for some cars to roll up, or a suited figure to approach. Any signs of them. The Savanaclaw clan, known for their brutality. Crime scenes involving their members were known to be incredibly gory. Spilled guts torn out of their victims’s gut, blood splattered across the walls…

A living nightmare.

A click has your back snapping upright, tense. You would know that click anywhere, even in your sleep. That was the sound of the safety being clicked off a gun. A god damned gun.

The cool metal of the gun’s nuzzle jabbed into your spine. A silent threat. Move one step, and you’ll have lead blasted right through your body.

“This is a easy job!” Crowley said.

Cursing under your breath, you vowed to pluck that crow bald the next time you see him. If you even see him again.

The gun jutted into the curve of your spine, inciting a dull throbbing pain blaring through your skin. Slowly, you raised your hands. A symbol of surrender, meant to pacify.

“I mean no harm.”

You said, forcing your words to sound somewhat calm. Despite your sweaty palms. Despite the rapid pace of your heart, trashing against its cage of bone. Despite the mind-numbing all consuming fear gnawing at the back of your mind right now.

A deep drawl spoke from behind, voice the rich consistency of finely aged wine. It slipped into your ears smoothly, almost like a seductress’ sultry purr.

“‘Course you don’t. Lil’ herbivore coming here all alone…”

A weight pressed against your chest. A hand, fingers rough with callouses. Patting you down. His touch doesn’t linger any longer then necessary, at least. You’re thankful for that.

“Unarmed, at that.”

His hand rests on your waist, before he tightens his grip. Twisting you around with the mere strength of his one arm, forcing you to look at him.

Eyes of emerald, marred by a scar running jagged through one. Like a bolt of lightning, slicing through his skin. Carmel locks of hair fall from his shoulders, braided on one end. The mane of a lion. The leader, of a pack.

There was just something about his gaze that made you want to bow. You resisted the urge, opting instead to draw your lips back, a thin line.

“You’ll think by now that bird would learn to take better care of his things.” A finger slides down the curve of your chin, tilting your head up firmly.

“I am an envoy of the Night Raven Fraction.” You growled, unable to keep the malice out of your voice.

“Unhand me.”

“Tch, feisty little thing, aren’t you? Can’t say you don’t have spunk.

Why don’t you come to my side instead? Might be better then working with an idiot who doesn’t even arm their diplomat before wandering right into the lion’s den.”

You blinked, surprised. All of the ways you predicted this would go, recruitment wasn’t one of them.

“And if I refuse?”

A hearty chuckle, dripping with malice. Those emerald eyes narrow at you, gleaming with a cruel amusement of a cat with its new toy.

“Did I ever say I was asking?”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #leona kingscholar #Leona #leona kingsholar x reader #Leona x reader #nightfall au #nightfall #mafia au #lucky potion🔷

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freelancearsonist · 14 days

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so scarlet, it was...

➔ post-outbreak Joel Miller x afab!Reader - series masterlist

➔ 1.3k words

➔ “Go ahead, yell your fucking head off. That’ll make everything okay, won’t it?”

➔ Rated MA for dark fic kinda, a/b/o themes (alpha joel, omega reader), established... situationship? i guess, pregnancy/contemplation of termination, contemplation of self harm, reader is not in a good headspace. one instance of vomiting, joel is not very nice, this fic in general is not very nice. takes place three years post outbreak. [please let me know if i missed any warnings so i can add them in :)]

➔ thank you so much to my darling @bitchwitch1981 for the prompt, i'm so sorry this is probably very much not what you wanted 🤣 extra special thank you to @perotovar for making this wonderful joel gif for me, if ur reading this ily <3

You’ve never actually used one of these things before. You’ve only read about them in books or seen them in movies from years ago, and they’ve only ever been an object of abject horror.

You understand why now, looking down at those two little lines on the stick cradled in your hand. You’ve never been quite so terrified in your life.

You never should’ve pocketed this test when you found it in that miraculously untouched drug store. You could’ve stayed blissfully unaware. Better yet, you should’ve been more careful. Three years of living like this has been more than enough to make you firm in your decision to never bring life into this broken world. This isn’t a place for a child, this is barely even a place for you. Every day is a fight, every waking moment is a nightmare. But you’ve been so careless with him and now it’s all crashing down, this blissful bubble where you can pretend that everything might be okay because you have the pack and, more importantly, him.

You won’t have him for much longer when he finds out about this.

You wonder what it’ll take to right this wrong before he finds out about it. It must be pretty early, so maybe it won’t take much to reverse it. Maybe all you’ll have to do is bump into something just right, or trip over the right log.

The thought makes you sick–more stomach bile than anything else coming up because you’ve hardly had more to eat than stale beef jerky and some precarious berries in the past few days. Resources have been so slim; another reason this can’t be happening. You hardly have enough to tide you over, much less a child. And it’ll be even worse once the pack abandons you.

You bury yourself into the haphazard nest of blankets and his worn clothes, letting the heavy, musky scent of him soothe your wracking sobs.

Maybe you should just accept your fate now, sacrifice yourself for the good of the pack. Everyone is going to die eventually, after all–sooner rather than later in this world. You’ve only been postponing the inevitable. They never have to know why you do it, and it’ll be one less mouth to feed. Two, technically, but they’ll never have to know that. He won’t even really miss you, it’ll be one less burden on his hands. On all of their hands.

You don’t hear them return early from scavenging–maybe because the volume of your own sobs drowns out any other noise. Or maybe because he can sense something is wrong as he enters the run-down little shack you’ve been holed up in for the past few weeks, and he softens his approach because of it.

Joel has never been quite as tender as he is when he takes you into his arms, pulling your face out of the pile of fabric to wipe at your tear-streaked cheeks.

“My omega, shhhh, I’m here. It’s okay,” he murmurs, wrapping you into his big, strong, safe arms. He doesn’t know. Maybe he thinks you had a nightmare, or you just missed him, or a million other things except the truth. But he doesn’t know, and you know he doesn’t know because you feel the moment he connects the dots. His eyes drop to the little white stick clutched tightly in your fist and his entire body stiffens like a board. Suddenly there’s no more warmth or comfort to his touch, nothing soothing about the pheromones drifting from him. He pulls away like you’re infected, and maybe you are. Maybe the thing that’s taken root in you is worse than cordyceps could ever hope to be.

You’ve never been terrified of him before. Joel is dark and brooding and imposing, but he’s only ever fought to protect you. His omega, who wormed their way under his skin despite him fighting it every step of the way. His omega, who’s been the only source of anything remotely close to comfort he’s had since outbreak day. His omega, who’s given him purpose in this dark world.

His omega, who’s betrayed him in such an unforgivable way.

“What the fuck.” There’s nothing but venom in his tone–he looks at you with pure disgust and your resolve crumbles.

Maybe there was a little, tiny, miniscule part of you that hoped it would be different. That he would be excited to be a father, or at least be understanding. But that hope dies so suddenly when you look up into his scowling face. He towers over you, dark eyes flashing with anger, and for the first time since you met him two long years ago you’re scared.

“You were supposed to be careful.” His voice rises further and further with each syllable, as if this isn’t partially his fault too. As if he wasn’t the one in such an uncontrollable rut last month that he kept you in bed all week, losing the willpower required to pull out with each powerful thrust of his hips. As if it isn’t his seed blooming in your womb as you speak.

“What do we do now, huh?” He growls, eyes darkening, fists clenching at his sides. “I’ve fucking marked you, I can’t turn you loose! And we barely make it by as we are! How the fuck are we supposed to handle this?”

He rants for what seems like hours and you flinch with every booming word, curling tighter around yourself in a desperate attempt to simply disappear; to not have to deal with this any more because your heart shatters with each irreversible word he throws at you. You shrink and shrink and shrink in hopes of vanishing because this is undoable. No matter what happens, nothing will ever go back to the way it was and that’s the knowledge that crushes you completely.

Your voice is so small when he finally quiets enough for you to speak. “Go ahead, yell your fucking head off. That’ll make everything okay, won’t it?”

Joel stops in his tracks, white knuckles unclenching for the first time in minutes. He sees the fear and regret in your eyes, and he almost lets it soften him. He loathes himself for this look on your face–for making you scared of him.

His omega. So small and fragile, curled in a pile of his clothes because his scent brings you comfort. He’s dedicated two years of his time and effort to keeping you safe and comfortable, if not happy. He’s supposed to protect you, not hurt you. He’s supposed to give you children and raise them with you, be a family with you. That’s what being your alpha means, and he has so sorely failed you.

But he knows he can never do that again. That’s never what this was supposed to be. He didn’t mark you out of anything but necessity–if he had let your uncontrolled scent waft every time you went into heat, every alpha in the country would be targeting your little pack of four. You’re his omega out of biological necessity–a warm hole to fill when his rut threatens to tear already strenuous ties with his brother and Tess. That’s what he tells himself because the alternative is so startlingly incomprehensible that he won’t allow himself to even consider the fact that he might care about you; that the urge to care for you and protect you is more than primal, biological instinct; that you mean more to him than anyone ever has.

Not just his omega now, but his mate. His unborn child is growing and growing and growing with each passing second inside your womb and he’s powerless to stop it.

“We’re thirty-seven miles from the Boston QZ,” he growls from somewhere deep in his chest. “We leave at first light.”

You don’t get a chance to argue or plead your case before the door slams shut behind him.

➔ beta: @beskarandblasters and @fhatbhabie

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #alpha!joel miller #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #dark fic #the last of us #tlou #joel tlou #cece writes #series: maroon

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