#some more because they're stuck in my head

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 19: Confessions

Aether doesn't know much about fire or water courtship rituals. Ifrit's there to knock some sense into his head.

Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the divider

this one is a doozy, I wrote this in pretty much one sitting yesterday and it's like four pages? turns out i have a lot of dewther feelings. Contains some (resolved) miscommunication, water/fire hybrid Dew, the first time I've ever written Ifrit, and some of my fire ghoul lore

Aether is, admittedly, not used to other ghouls. Quintessence packs run small, a tight-knit family group at the largest. But this is something else. Ghouls of every element, even some hybrids, all of them mostly cooperating and coexisting as a larger pack than Aether's ever known. He spends a lot of his first few months close to Omega's side, seeking comfort in his fellow quintessence ghoul.

There's one ghoul, however, who's intrigued him from the moment he was pulled from the summoning circle. Quite literally too. There had been hands on his wrists, pulling. One had been Omega, hands that felt familiar even as a stranger. But then the other wrist, fingers almost dainty, barely able to wrap all the way around.

He had looked up, and if the summoning had knocked the breath from his now-corporeal lungs, Aether found it impossible to breathe.

There was a water ghoul standing above him, silver, pin-straight hair falling over his shoulders, almost obscuring the teal gills that line his neck. He's slight, and was staring with wide, bright blue eyes down at him, a hazy lavender coloring his cheeks.

Aether had swallowed hard, tried to shut his mouth because he knew he was staring. But the water ghoul was staring too, and Aether was helped to his feet by the others. Omega had asked his name, draped a purple, starry blanket around his wide shoulders, and with one more glance at the water ghoul, had lead him from the summoning chambers.

He sees him around the pack den, standing alongside a water ghoulette and a fire ghoul who's almost as broad as Aether himself. He learns his name is Dewdrop, that Mist is teaching him bass so he can go along with the Ghost Project to support the third Emeritus brother when they leave on tour again. He watches the way Dew's fingers fly over the fretboard, the way steam curls from his gills when he's stuck on something frustrating. Dew's beautiful, and Aether feels eyes on his back when he's pretending not to stare himself.

They dance around each other for weeks, sharing glances and brushed touches between the den and the practice room, the uniform fittings and Masses.

And then things start to change. Dew actually starts approaching him, asking to practice together, rhythm guitar and bass. Aether's a little too quick to agree, anything to spend a little more time with the little ghoul he's way too infatuated with.

Aether still remembers the first time Dew cornered him after practice, grabbing his hand and unfurling his fingers, intense eye contact as he pressed something hard and smooth into his palm, closing his fingers around it before darting off after Mist. The ghoulette had glanced between the two of them, a smile that was a little too smug and knowing for Aether's taste on her lips.

He looked down into his palm, finding a pretty piece of stone, so dark it's almost black, glittering with quartz all throughout, worn down smooth by water. Aether furrowed his brow, turning the pebble over in his fingers, before taking it back to his room, setting it on a shelf above his desk.

The pebble quickly became part of a collection, various colors and shapes decorating just about every surface in his bedroom. They're all beautiful, and Aether finds himself turning them over in his hands, wondering why Dew's only giving them to him, not sharing them with the rest of the pack.

This continues, even as the Ghost Project sets out to tour. Dew keeps giving him little gifts, pressing them into his hand. The first time they get to stay overnight at a hotel, instead of cramming themselves into tiny bunks on the bus, he and Dew are assigned together. Or maybe, Dew bat his lashes at Terzo and got him to reassign keys. If he did, Dew will never tell. Regardless, they head up the elevator together, bags slung over their shoulders.

Aether slips the keycard into the lock, pushing open the door to a room with two queen beds. Altogether, not a bad hotel room, but he's nearly dead on his feet after that night's Ritual.

"May I make you a nest, Aether?" Dew asks, setting his bag down on the hotel dresser, beginning to rifle through it for a clean set of clothes.

Aether yawns, jaw popping with the force of it. "That sounds great," he says earnestly. "How about I strip my bed and we use both sets of bedding? Make it extra comfortable."

Aether just barely catches the way Dew's eyes light up like neon signs at his words, and the little ghoul nods eagerly. "Go shower, and I'll get it taken care of."

"Thank you, waterlily," Aether says, unable to stop himself from tucking a strand of silver hair behind Dew's finned ear, watching fascinated as that lavender blush spills over the ridge of his nose, the sharp lines of his cheeks.

Aether rushes through his shower, exhaustion bone-deep. He doesn't know how Omega did it for so long. His body aches to flop down into a nest, and he's honestly excited to not have to sleep alone.

He gets out of the shower, roughly toweling off and changing in his haste. Aether steps out of the bathroom, the mirror foggy with steam, and watches curiously as Dew weaves sheets and blankets and pillows together methodically. Eventually, Dew seems satisfied with his work, curling up in the pile of bedding, patting the mattress next to him.

"Come on, big guy, get in here," he demands, but his finned tail is wagging behind him, mussing up the blankets.

He chuckles, climbing into the nest next to Dew, who's quick to curl up against his side, purring like a storm. It's very comfortable, and Aether's happy to have an armful of ghoul, the two of them quickly succumbing to sleep.

The habit keeps, Dew worming his way into Aether's bunk on the bus, insisting they're roomed together for each hotel night.

Dew gets clingier after they start sharing a bed. Aether's not complaining, not by any means, but Dew's always been a little aloof, a stoic little thing. He's close physically, but Aether can feel the way his friend is beginning to drift away mentally, even as they sleep pressed together from torso to tailtip.

It takes a couple of weeks before Ifrit raises an eyebrow as he takes note of their sleeping arrangements, the way Dew's plastered to Aether's side for what feels like every waking moment, every unconscious one too.

He pulls Aether aside backstage one night, and Aether goes willingly. "What's up, big guy?" he asks.

Ifrit scratches at his undercut, his shoulder length hair tied back so he can shove it into the balaclava later tonight. "Aeth. Aether. What do you know about fire ghoul courting rituals?"

Aether's brow furrows hard, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's a little out of nowhere," he sputters. "I mean, nothing, really. I mean, are you asking?"

Ifrit throws his head back in a laugh. "No, I'm not asking for myself, if that's what you're putting down. Me and Zeph are good, not looking for a third quite yet," he chuckles, clapping Aether's shoulder before his expression turns serious, a rare occurrence for the fire ghoul. "Okay, how about this. What do you know about water ghoul courting?"

"Courting?" He can feel the blush spilling across his cheeks as a face flashes in his mind out of his control. Silver hair, teal fins, bright blue eyes. Aether swallows hard, meeting Ifrit's expectant gaze. "Nothing. I barely met any water ghouls in the Pit, wasn't really in a position to learn that part of their culture."

Ifrit nods to himself, taking a deep breath through his nose. He settles both of his hands on Aether's shoulders, leveling him with a look. "Aether, I'm gonna be blunt and I need you not to freak out on me. Dew thinks you're courting him, and he's trying to court you back."

Aether's heart stops, trying to form words but just sputtering. "I didn't- I'm not- How?"

"He's not just water. He's a fire hybrid. I don't know too much about the water courting, but I'd be willing to bet he's been giving you stones?"

Aether blinks dumbly at him. "Yeah, he has. They're all over my room in the den."

"Yep, that'll be it, I think. But the part I know more about are fire rituals. Did he offer to make you a hearth?"

"Dew's never mentioned anything about a hearth, Frit," Aether says, feeling the warmth of his palms as they hold his shoulders still. "I don't know what that is."

"It's a courting nest, Aeth," Ifrit sighs again. "Did Dew offer to make you a nest?"

He blinks up at Ifrit, realization beginning to dawn on him. "He did."

"And you offered your bedding in response, didn't you?"

"I- I did. I offered to strip the other hotel bed to make a nest with," he says, suddenly finding the skin around his glamoured nails incredibly interesting.

"Aether, listen to me," Ifrit says, tipping Aether's chin up to make him make eye contact. "You need to talk to Dew. Tonight. Clear this all up. He's upset because, to him, you reciprocated his intent and now you're giving him the cold shoulder."

Aether opens his mouth to reply, but then there's a call of a half an hour until places. They glance at each other, nowhere near ready, panic filling both of their eyes. "Talk to him," Ifrit stresses as they part, scrambling to the dressing room.

The Ritual, all things considered, goes fine. Aether knows that Dew knows he's looking at him, sees the glint of blue eyes behind the silver mask that obscures the rest of his features. He can't look away. Aether hits his marks, plays his part, but he's staring at Dew, with everything Ifrit told him swirling though his mind like his quintessence.

They step off stage, the ghouls all filing back to the dressing room, sweaty and exhausted. "Dew," Aether says, just loud enough to be heard. The water ghoul whips back, eyes shining through his mask.

"Aether?"

He takes a deep breath through his nose, trying to steel himself. It smells like metal, the mask humid with his breath even through the balaclava. "I need to talk to you. Could we find somewhere quiet?"

Dew blinks, the rest of his expression hidden, but Aether, in tune with these kinds of things, can almost smell the apprehension. "Sure. What about?"

"Just-" Aether stops himself. "Not here, come with me?" He holds out his hand, still so strange looking under human skin. Dew's chest heaves as he breathes, considering, before placing his hand in Aether's.

Aether finds an empty room, dark and quiet, herding Dew inside before shutting the door behind them. He finds the light switch, old fluorescents flickering to life. Aether reaches up, grabbing the chin of his mask and pulling it up and off of his head, shoving his balaclava down.

Dew's quick to follow, and once his face is revealed, Aether gets a good look at the almost nervous expression written there, on the most beautiful ghoul he's ever seen, even soaking wet and ruffled. Locks of silver hair stick to his forehead with sweat, and he aches to reach out to tuck them back in place. "Aether?"

His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath, stepping heavily into Dew's space, guiding him to stumble quickly backward until his back hits the wall. Dew's expression hardens, but Aether can taste the undercurrent of fear of being cornered by a much bigger ghoul, caged in by his big arms.

"Hey, Dewdrop," he whispers, voice as gentle as he can make it. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Dew's brow furrows, staring up at him. "You didn't know wh- umph!"

He gets cut off by Aether's mouth on his, the bigger ghoul lunging down to catch Dew's lips in a desperate, hungry kiss. The smaller ghoul squawks in surprise, before melting completely into it. His arms come up and wrap around his neck, clinging to him, human nails digging into his shoulders even through the cassock.

They part, vessels aching for air, eyes wide as they stare at each other. Dew starts laughing incredulously, narrow chest heaving. "You're fucking kidding, Aether, thought you were leading me on."

Aether leans in, pressing his forehead to Dew's. "I didn't know you were trying to court me. I didn't know I had accepted a hearth."

"I mean," Dew stammers, that lilac blush flooding his cheeks again. "If you didn't actually want me to court you, you can forget it happened, I can-"

"Dewdrop," Aether whispers, taking the point of his chin carefully in his fingers, making him meet his gaze. "What about the last five minutes says I don't want this?"

He shrugs, still pinned to the wall. Instead of answering, Dew tangles his spindly fingers in his mohawk, pulling him down into another kiss. And Aether is happy to indulge him.

#this one is like. double the length of the majority of my fics for this month #damn #anyways idk how i feel about how i wrote ifrit #it's time for me to write honeymoon phase dewther lmao #and if the tenses are all fucked up you didn’t see anything #mushy may 2024 #dot's writing #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #dewther

[spacebubblehomebase]

I'm sorry if you've said in a previous post about the Stargazers Au, but is it going to be entirely in comic form or is some of it going to be fanfic?

Also your art is delightfully soft and the character interactions so far are very fun.

I haven't gotten this question before! =0 But to answer, while not every part of my AU's lore would be presented in comic form, I plan for ALL of it to have some type of art at least! Even if it's not a comic. (In fact, the next part coming up would be exactly that!)

While I have written fanfics before, I tend to get stuck in my own head when I write and I get too deep and philosophical. Which is the exact opposite mood that comes out from my drawings. Usually lighthearted and made for simple fun! So I prefer to stick to my favorite medium and draw as much of this story as I can! ^v^ And thank you! The soft giddy fluff is everything I wanna convey in my art so I'm glad it pulls through! =D Please look forward for more! -Bubbly💙 Like... ⤵️

BONUS Charlie & Alastor interaction I never added to the 1st part because it wasn't all that interesting or important story wise. Just a glimpse of their fun dynamic and a hint of Alastor's new palate. Which will be addressed later, but as for the odd green doodles, don't worry. They're not Voodoo. In my AU, Alastor creates radio station symbols instead! =D If it's not obvious, Charlie didn't see him do all his creepy magic from behind her either! 😅

#spacebubblearts #HHStargazersAU #Asks #Bonus scene #chaggie #radioapple #appleradio #queerplatonic #or not #as long as y'all have fun #asks #hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #hazbin alastor #human au #kinda #radio symbols #radio demon #deleted scene #father daughter bonding #except they're not that #yet 👀 #Lucifer is short #is that a tag? #human Charlie #demon Alastor #human Lucifer #Part one continuation #Alastor's mom #what happened to the fallen beignet

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Hello!! I just recently found your blog and I have to say I'm in LOVE- I'm a sucker for platonic yanderes and have serious X-Men brainrot, I've had the idea stuck in my head and I wanted to share!

So platonic yan Brotherhood & X-Men with Hummingbird mutant tot reader?? Flying at max speed when not held and eats exclusively fruit, constantly giggling and being mischievous- Maybe they meet the brotherhood first?? Decide toad is their favorite cause he's also got an animal mutation(& cause I love him) then meets the X-Men and thinks there funny more than anything else

Loves harmless pranks and can be bribed with sugar cubes, but is an absolute nightmare if upset, hummingbirds can fly up to 60 miles when going up and dive anywhere from 20-45 mph, imagine the damage lil reader could do flying circles around everyone!

(sending this twice cause this washing machine setting of a website likes to eat my asks)

So cute!

The Brotherhood would love toddler hummingbird mutant Reader! That's their little buzzer, okay? No one messes with then and gets away with it!

Lance is sneaking them with him to places. If they're at the park, he'll race them. If they're getting food, he tries to get them fruit juice and apple slices. If they go to a museum, he'll show then any birds they want to see in the exhibits. He doesn't mind letting them tug him along, just as long as they stay within his sight.

Toad is sneaking Reader snacks all the time. They want juice? Okay, they have apple, grape, cranberry, orange, pineapple, what's their pick? They're tired? Never fear, Todd will happily carry them around! They want to play in the rain? Haha, yes! Those two get along pretty well, especially since they're both animal mutants. Reader gets him a little frog charm, and he loves it.

Fred let's Reader and Toad perch on his shoulders when they want to see better or are tired. He cooks pie, and saves the best berry ones for Reader. Reader plays with his mother sometimes, and he in turn pets their wings. He's a gentle giant with them, and is extremely careful. He reminds the others to be careful, too.

Pietro is getting Reader to race him all the time. To the park? Beat you there! To the zoo? See you in awhile crocodile! To the X-Men to prank them? Why, just say the word, little bird, and they're there! He enables their prankster side, even going with them to keep them from getting caught. He does however try to get a child leash for them, since Reader keeps flying off to look at flowers.

Wanda let's Reader follow her around. Reader offers her some flowers they picked, and now they have her as their guardian angel. Someone once picked on Reader for their wings, and suddenly they ran off screaming- Then Wanda showed up, and took Reader to get a slushie. If Reader wants to have little cute stuffed animals, they gonwith Wanda into places that have them, but also have Gothic or punkrock stuff, too. Wanda gets Reader a little cat plush, and Reader picks out a moth plush for Wanda.

Mystique keeps an eye on Reader, and tries to adopt them. Is it thwarted? Maybe? Or maybe it works. She follows Reader and the others in different forms, even comes by as a hummingbird herself, to cheer Reader up up they're feeling down. Suddenly there's a lot of fruit and juice and sugar around the house, and while the others are suspicious, Reader is just happy to have so many sweet treats at their disposal!

Reader likely finds the X-Men funny. These are their enemies? Well, they're just freebies! Friends who are enemies! And Reader leaves flowers I weird places, ties shoelaces together, and dyes the fountain and pool water bright pink. They don't really get too out of hand with their jokes, but they will leave juice boxes as an apology sometimes. And the X-Men allow it, because Reader is sweet and cute, and haven't tried to fight them, so they're good.

Reader would have pretty, shiny feathers. Jewel tones, bright areas, soft feathers, everything beautiful about a hummingbird, they have! Their wings are fast, letting them fly backwards and up and down and all around. Reader even has small claws, but they don't do much besides help them grip branches or flowers a bit better.

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen evolution #platonic yandere xmen evolution au

[hermlonesque]

Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers

#some more because they're stuck in my head #and if i'm gonna suffer then you too #she's my favorite character ever #and she deserves the world #if i knew how to do edits i would be unstoppable #gwen stacy #gwen atsv #gwen stacy atsv #atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse

[katierosefun]

my cancelled-able trait from the queer community would be that i really apparently love messy endings. i love u happy endings and i also love u such sad, messy, ambiguous endings . . . i love u endings where u have this weird pit in the bottom of your stomach because you know that there's love here but u have no idea what to do with it and u just have to deal with the fact that someone is profoundly affecting your life and you're not gonna get closure from it anytime soon . . . i love u queer love stories where it's really just "u don't always get to see the sunshine and rainbows at the end of it . . . sometimes all that's left is just one big question mark and the quiet hope that they get their shit together" . . .

#caroline talks #don't get me wrong. i love u happy endings. esp when it comes to queer love stories #but i also just. love endings where it's just like. well. u DON'T know for certain whether the characters #are truly going to ride off into the sunset together. #the only thing u know for certain is that they love each other and that they're going to have to grapple with that forever. #maybe it's also just bc like. idk. i took too many film classes and so my head's forever stuck #on this one essay about how some really happy endings feel lifeless. #like how in some ending shots. the characters look like they've had their happy ending. but there's also some weird unease and confusion #and it's like. well yeah. because for every happy moment u get in life. u are still already thinking 'well what's next. what now.' #which is fascinating to me. but also me @ me: god maybe u can just be happy and it's not that deep. #but also. i do love the wonderful ambiguity of just. 'there is so much more to live. so much more to do.' #and i guess it's not just for queer love stories. i think a lot about the ending of my mister. #with lee ji an and park dong hoon walking away from each other but they're happy. u have no idea how their relationship will pan out but u #do know that they love each other. #or like. columbus. with jin and casey. they hug each other and thank each other for being in the other's lives. #and jin says goodbye to casey and casey says goodbye to jin and u have no idea if they'll see each other again. but u know they love each #other so very much. even if they'd only known each other for a second. #or like. beginners. anna and oliver love each other so much and u get this sense that. they're still a little bit uneasy/nervous about how #the rest of their lives are going to go. but they'll try. #or. god. the swearing jar. #the last shot. i think about it a lot. #there is love!!! but u don't always know how the rest of it is going to pan out!!! u just know that it'll pan out somehow!

[x-adoringvoid-x]

Apparently that's called the 'irresistible force paradox'

#oc f/o #f/o art #fictional other #self shipping #self insert #oc #original character #they're patient with me #also I finally draw Hadri with a different form! #I want to do more with their shape shifting but I haven't made much that turns out well #small vent in tags upcoming if you don't want to read #Feeling bad about posting but I shouldn't just give up #In some way social media isn't for me because I take things too personally #but if I'm going to meet people I have some common ground with I don't know where else I'd look #common ground with something that means something to me #I want to meet people that don't suck to talk to #And actively have things they want to talk to me about that we're both interested in #Tired of being just ears. #I'm talking about my family here not anyone on the site btw #I just wish there were people who wanted to talk in the same way I want to talk #same level of energy I guess #Sorry to vent in silly drawings but it is what it is #Fun fact if you read this far...Hadri would like Evangelion #I don't know why that came to mind today but it makes total sense #They're a deity-like person so religion is interesting and they'd be drawn in by the drama #I honestly don't know how they'd examine media since their setting is basically medieval so Hadri's never really watched anything #Maybe a play? #I'd be nice to know what Hadri would think of things I like #But my tastes are very colorful... watched Ind/go Park for example and have it stuck in my head now #Popp/ playtime and Ind/go Park seem to both be going for fnaf Portal and I am feeling something

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

2 & 3 from section 1 for peri and 7 from whichever section has a more interesting #7 for diodore -moss

oooh these are fun ones!

2. Describe their tent set-up (outside and inside) (Peri)

I think Peri's tent is constructed similarly to Gale and Astarion's (boxy, fabric walls, little covered area outside). Deep blue fabric w/ golden astronomical embroidery, mostly the sort of thing you see on star maps. Little golden tassles around the edges of the tarp (?) and the doorframe. He'd have a small, circular, dark wood side table short enough that you can use it sitting on the ground, and a dark blue pillow next to it; there would be some parchment and a bronze miniature astrolabe on the table. The inside would be just. full to the brim with the gaudiest night-sky-themed pillows you've ever seen. No bedroll, no palette, just a nest that would put those cube pits in trampoline parks to shame. There would be two bird perches for his familiar Medani: one taller one next to his tent and one shorter one under the overhang. The shorter one would have a crow-sized bow-tie hanging from it. Rugs on rugs on the outside area ofc. 3. What would their character quest be titled? Why? (Peri)

This is a hard one! His tav ending involves taking over the Waterdeep arm of the Harpers, so I think his arc would have something to do with that. He'd be pretty bitter about being dropped into another near-apocalyptic mess when dealing with the last one a few years prior was supposed to be a one-time thing. Something-something ptsd in a world that doesn't have the words for that yet, something-something 'once a hero always a hero', something-something the weight of responsibility...he's a planeswalker so I think part of it would be whether he decides to stay on Toril long-term and directly help rebuild the Waterdeep Harpers or if he continues to run travel around afterwards, so maybe The Far Traveller/The Far Walker?

Harpson/Fae-son are also potential options. "Fae-son" nods to him being a changeling without it being super obvious (like Astarion's "The Pale Elf"). It would also mimic his backstory reveals from RoT ("oh he's not 'from here' so, like, the Feywild" -> "OH he's not from here"). 7. Describe their arc. How would a player help resolve it? What choices can be made? Can your Tav be turned down a dark path, or pulled to a lighter one? (Diodore)

Buckle up because we're in for a long one here. I've thought about Dora's story arc a lot because she's the first of my tavs that I truly made for the game while having full control over her backstory, etc. (versus Corentin, who had their arc baked into the story as a durge). Dora's a paladin of Corellon (oath of ancients) and her story arc as a companion would have to do with whether or not she should accept capital-r-Redemption, the process by which a drow can be truly "freed" from Lolth and rejoin the ranks of the rest of elven society. It involves all of the Redeemed drow's memories being erased and them being reincarnated as a surface elf. The implication seems to be that without that, regardless of a drow's actions, they'd be thrown back to Lolth when they die? Or at least that their eternal fate is unknown (which is the way I prefer to think of it for. personal reasons). Under normal circumstances, Dora would be a long way from Redemption being presented to her at all (she's not even 200 yet and has only been on the surface for a couple decades), but like with the other gods' Chosen among the companions, near-apocalyptic circumstances tend to speed up those sorts of things.

Of course, you'd have the themes of faith & relationship with deity when they're all unequivocally real and are also mostly all assholes; maintaining or breaking generational cycles; facing the unknown; morality when none of your choices are "good" (and how that interacts with morality vs self preservation); power vs freedom; identity outside of the people who made you; etc. The choice would first be presented to her sometime in late Act I/early Act II, likely the first long rest after the group resurfaces from the Underdark and you've probably gotten some of her backstory already. I have no idea how Larian would have characterized Corellon, but he's considered one of the more benevolent/open-minded deities iirc, which could be interesting to see contrasted with Mystra, Vlaa'kith, and Shar. How much that open-mindedness would extend to a drow, even one who has been a faithful follower even before she escaped to the Surface (and who inherited that faith from her father), is unclear. At the beginning of the game she would be leaning towards accepting Redemption, despite her own misgivings about whether or not she would still be her in that case.

Her final decision (at the ending pier scene) would depend on the relationship she has with the PC and the other companions. Her best ending, imo, would be her not accepting Redemption but continuing to be a force for good. If she has a good relationship with the PC, she would have something to lose. I think seeing the House of Mourning would affect her too. After all, the thing Corellon is offering to her as a way to find peace is the same thing the Sharrans are using as a way to manipulate and control others.

She's viscerally aware of how she was socialized and very actively chooses "good", so pushing her towards a darker path would be incredibly difficult but not impossible. If you side with the goblins she'll leave immediately, and turn on you if she's in your party when you attack the grove. But if you decide to try and control the cult in Act II, depending on your over-all actions before then and how you've interacted with her, you could disillusion her to the point of convincing her to break her oath. That path would entail convincing her that controlling the cult is actually the best idea. I'm sure there would be other times that her oath could break that wouldn't necessarily lock her into an "evil" path, especially with how Oathbreakers are handled in the game. Knocking out Minthara instead of killing her outright and letting Auntie Ethel go in Act I instead of killing her are two things that come to mind.

If she doesn't choose Redemption she would be at the epilogue party, of course. I'm a bit undecided on what would happen if she does choose Redemption. She may not be there at all, w/ Jaheira, Halsin, Minthara, and/or Astarion mentioning running into her in her new, reincarnated state. Or she would be there, confused, and mention how the PC seems familiar in a way she can't quite place. In that case, she would ask them how they know each other and mention something about feeling a twinge of grief looking at everyone, but that she doesn't know why she feels that way. It would be up to the PC how much they tell her (if they tell her anything at all).

#ty for the ask mossy!! #and sorry for the wait lol a couple of these stumped me for a minute #thinking about peri & jaheira as narrative parallels... #b/c i want to be clear here. peri was and is *not* looking for more responsibility re: harpers #he was perfectly happy doing security systems. him not seeking power was an active character choice i made for him b/c he's a wizard #but in the Faerun In My Head (tm) the Waterdeep Harpers also get decimated by the Absolute b/c why would they not? theyd be a major threat #especially b/c their high harper was the catalyst for forming the lord's alliance and. like. you think they're *not* reconvening? #for Weird Cult Two: 2 Cult 2 Furious?? #gortash would take remallia OUT if at all possible #and also I like torturing my characters #and i think the whole 'weight of duty'/hero's curse (once you get drawn into one situation you can't ignore the others/they come to you) #thing is interesting for peri in particular. the man just wants to live a quiet life and he will! for the most part. #just now with thousands of lives in his hands b/c he's helped stop 2 apocalypses and is irrevocably tied to the fate of the Coast now #his conscious wouldn't let him just leave the Harpers or Waterdeep to rot. and that seems to be similar to the situation jaheira's in #generational cycles the cruel march of time history repeats itself etc etc #that's also why i think he would get Weave'd and have an unusually long lifespan. he wanted to rest and the universe said “no <3” #i think about dora's story a lot also because the whole 'you can be redeemed (from something you were born with) #but only by removing integral parts of yourself' thing hits *right* in the religious trauma #you cant tell me there wouldn't be *some* part of a Redeemed Drow's soul that remembers the people from before they were changed #unless they just. get a new soul in which case it literally isn't them anymore. #doras first real & healthy relationships happen in-game #thats part of why she's drawn to astarion. his bullshit is predictable to her and therefore feels safer. #definitely safer than whatever is going on with the others #(also why she trusts karlach so quickly: she's straightforward and blunt & doesn't really hide things? #and was also the only one to warn her against astarion. dora'd literally never had someone like that in her life before so it stuck) #and she'd feel a bit uncomfortable w/ the concept of Redemption at first but who is she to argue with a god? #esp one who seems kinder than many of the others #but as the story progresses she realizes that she *can* trust these people and that they trust her #and she sees how Gale and Shadowheart and Lae'zel are struggling w/ their deities #and not only does she have something to lose now but she's seeing more of how the gods work generally

[seapasture]

I thought I'd try reading tonight in order to attempt to start breaking my current nocturnal habit, but as soon as I placed my head upon the pillow my inner English Literature professor started pacing... and then debating... AGH

#yes yes the themes and the symbolism - i need to sleep! but now i feel more awake than i did before! #i need to be dropped into a seminar just to chatter and let out all my thoughts but i Can't and they're stuck in my head to spin and clamour #i can't win because going on my phone is just a tedious headachey rabbit hole but apparently reading is too stimulating too #maybe it's just because it's kafka... yes that's it (said with desperation) #i could barely even focus on the first few pages and now my brain simply won't shut up :'( #maybe i'll write up some analysis tomorrow (and maybe i'll share it if i'm brave) but Why just Why can't i sleep!! i feel so desperate asfdg #sea rambles

[prettycottagequeer]

ok maybe I'm a little late to this BUT I'm gonna do a to-do list motivation thingy because I've had the worst two weeks since I started college :)

SO these I should start on asap:

50 I make the snack I really want but I haven't had the motivation to make

100 I clean my dorm. another thing I've been meaning to do for a week

150 I do the presentation about mid-victorian fashion I've been putting off (due Monday)

200 I start memorizing the monologue that was due a week ago (now due Tuesday)

these can wait longer:

300 I spend time outside. It's so nice but I'm getting stuck scrolling because I feel like shit. vicious cycle ect

500 I start setting a better weekend routine (aka getting up before noon)

1k I start working out again. I was doing a routine to get more masc and build muscle and I liked it but life hit me like Crowley driving the Bentley and I've missed like 3 weeks

2k I buy my first binder. I've been coping with sports bras for almost a year now and I haven't been able to justify spending $50+ on a binder even though I know I'd love it and use it everyday.

Do I tag people? I don't know but I'm going to. @the-globe-theatre-maggot @weirdly-specific-but-ok @howmanyholesinswisscheese

here's just some context if you want to read, feel free to skip. some of this I've talked about in the maggot server, some I haven't, but I really just need a place for this to go that's out of my head. tw homophobia, transphobia, car crash(??)

How I Have Been Run Over By The Bentley Going 90 In Central London What Feels Like 50 Times In The Last Two Weeks

I'm going to college about 4 hours away from my parents, and it's been really nice. They.. suck, to say the least. transphobic/homophobic ect, super traditional conservative catholic, racist, all of it. so i tried to move somewhere where I wouldn't have to think about them and I could be myself and do what I can to be happy. March 1st was the start of my spring break, which meant going home because the dorms close. I was already not excited, but I was prepared. the problem with being away from home is I forget just how bad they are. My optimism gets the better of me and I think maybe this time they'll be better. so I decided to not hide my septum piercing.

that was a mistake. it starts a whole fight where they say we know you're trans, you're actually a girl and you always will be, we have the bones argument, they think I'm being influenced by demons or something (if only they knew about crowley) because I want to change my name, and they tell me that going on t will completely ruin my body and give me cancer and other things. They're also mad about my dyed hair, septum, and general style, and say I'm setting a terrible example for my (5) younger siblings and make it a point to tell me just how much of a disappointment I am. I think I'm pretty cute and fun but y'know, whatever. very fun time. I lie so much, don't give them any more details about my identity, and say I'm not planning to go on t to save my ass. which is all on instinct which makes me feel worse because if I'm really trans I should be able to stand up for that, right? maybe I'm faking the dysphoria.

the next morning I wake up really sick, and spend the rest of the week sick and feeling like shit because I'm home and back in the same place and situation I was a year ago that I thought I escaped. at one point I pretty much lose my voice but also kind of get gender euphoria from it. it's weird.

On Friday it's time for me to drive back 4 hours to school, and I make it about 3/4 of the way when google maps takes me on a random gravel road and I crash my car, really crash my car, like sideways-in-a-ditch-windows-broken-crawling-up-out-the-door crash it in the middle of nowhere. (I was fully paying attention to the road, it was raining and super slick) I call my parents because I have no one else to call and I sit in a Subway for 3 hours while they drive to get my car. when they get there they're (understandably) really mad, and they tell me that I'm not mature enough to be going to school so far away and I need to get my shit together and stop depending on them. which. is probably true. but made me feel even more stupid about the fact that I crashed my car. I get back to school and I'm still Very Sick with no energy or motivation to do anything. So I've spent the last week trying to get better and honestly to do anything. it hasn't really worked. I'm a lot better health-wise (Not emotionally), still sick but I have a lot of work due, so I really need a push to get started

[luveline]

How about Steve with a reader who already has a kid? Like they're in their twenties and she has maybe 2 or 3 year old. Her ex isn't in the picture so it's just her. Maybe the fic is Steve finally getting to meet readers son/ daughter. Maybe she has to leave their date earlier due to a babysitter problem and Steve just comes along with her and they spend the night together.

ty for requesting <3 mom!reader, 2k

“Try not to show fear,” you’re saying, your hand pulled tight against his. He savours the softness of it even as the concrete steps to your house force you apart. 

“I’m not scared.” 

“I’m just saying, Steve. Toddlers know when you’re scared.” 

“But I’m not scared.” Steve has handled worse than toddlers. If your kid is anything like you, this will be a walk in the park. 

You grin at him and give him one of your cute shrugs, though shyness he recognises from your first date stiffens your shoulders again as you open your front door. 

Your home is small. The first thing he notices is the cramped space walking in, the tight stairs, but the second thing he notices is the amount of life, photographs that deck the walls and colour everywhere, clothes folded and waiting to be taken upstairs, little shoes in a stand by an open bathroom door. 

“Melanie?” you call. “You okay?” 

Melanie appears in the door with a huge watery frown, who Steve assumes to be your young son smiling on her hip, unperturbed. “I’m so sorry.” 

She’d been incoherent on the phone, though eventually squeezed out that it was nothing wrong with Noah. Melanie’s boyfriend appears to have broken up with her over the phone. 

You scoop Noah off of his babysitter's hip, holding him with far more ease. He drops his face with affection to the curve of your bare shoulder. It’s a shame you and Steve had to come home —you’re wearing the nicest dress he’s ever seen. But not a shame, because Steve’s excited to meet the baby. 

You could’ve sent him home. He assumes this means some level of trust and, better, permanency. If all goes well, he might be able to ask you to go steady soon. He’d love to do it tonight. 

“Don’t worry, Melanie, you can’t help it if something bad happens, can you? I’m really sorry about your boyfriend. Do you need me to drive you home?” 

Melanie sniffles miserably. “No, that’s okay, I can drive. I’m sorry.” 

You rub her arm. “It’s okay, really. We were just gonna have dinner and head home.” 

Steve internalises his reaction to that tidbit well. Melanie gives him a sad smile and passes by, her shoes heavy and smacking as she leaves with a mumbled farewell. 

“She’s a little emotional,” you say sympathetically, before turning your attention to the sleepy kid on your shoulder. “Sorry, Noah, guess you’re stuck with mommy and her new friend. Do you want to say hi?” 

Noah lifts his head, following your hand where you point at Steve, a smile like yours on his lips. 

Steve genuinely isn’t scared of kids, he loves them, and he loves talking to them. “Hi, buddy. It’s nice to meet you.” 

You hum appreciatively. “Go on, say hi to Steve.” 

“Hi,” Noah says quietly. 

Your voice is different around the baby, not any less pretty but softer, and quieter. It has Steve lowering his own voice in an attempt to mimic you. “Hi, bud.” 

“He’s my new best friend,” you explain, ushering Steve closer, your hand touching gently to his shoulder. 

Noah’s even more your image now he’s closer, all your eyes and smile and brightness, but he’s got someone else’s nose, and he’s got a bad case of yawns. You laugh at his scrunched nose, wiping your thumb lightly over his bottom lip. “You want to go to bed, sweet boy?” you ask. 

“No… buppy.” 

“You want your buppy. Okay, I’ll get it for you.” You pull your arm through Steve’s. “Let’s go.” 

He laughs and goes happily. Your kitchen is empty compared to the hallway, it’s surprising, but then you open a cabinet for the aforementioned bubby and a couple of things come tumbling out. “Whoops,” you say, popping Noah down on the floor. “Can you put those away for me, please? Thank you.” 

Noah tries his best, but everything he puts in comes tumbling back out, earning a few high-pitched giggles. You crack the fridge open for a pint of cows milk. 

“He doesn’t have formula?” 

“No, you can give them whole milk after a year, but he doesn’t really need it anymore, it’s just to help him self-soothe at nighttime.” 

“Mom, I can’t do it,” Noah laughs. Steve thinks that great, that laughing. He could’ve had a tantrum (Steve wouldn’t blame him). 

Steve crouches down. “Can I help?” 

Noah gives Steve a smile, eyes squinting nearly entirely shut. “Yes.” 

“Okay, awesome. Looks like your mom needs more cabinets for all your stuff.” He starts to pick up the pieces. 

“I need a whole new house,” you say, filling the bottle about three quarters before sticking it in your microwave uncapped. You set the timer for fifteen seconds and prop your chin in your hand, elbow on the counter. Steve thinks it’s your best angle yet, your dress, your arms, the friendly smile you’re wearing that hasn’t once ebbed since the first date. It all gets his chest in a twist. 

He knows getting your baby to like him is make or break. And he really wants to give this a shot, you and him, you and Noah. He thinks you’d be good together. (Maybe he’s crazy and too forward, but you really are beautiful in your dress.) 

“How’s that?” he asks, closing the cabinet behind a tower of bottles and baby bowls.

“Perfect! Good job, baby,” Noah says, tapping Steve on the knee. 

Steve snorts. “Thank you.” 

“He’s going through a phase of saying everything I say,” you explain, yanking open the microwave to test the milk on the back of your hand. 

You deem the milk sufficiently warmed and offer Noah your hand, swiping a takeout menu from the fridge as you pass, and once again grabbing Steve by the arm to drag him along. He’s content to be dragged. You lead everyone into the living room, and he’s again surprised by how small it is. 

You catch his look. “Are you judging me, Harrington?” 

“What? No? Of course not.”

“Messing with you. There’s an extension out back, on the kitchen? That’s where I keep the rest of the toys.” You drop down onto the couch with a sigh. “Come here, babe, come cuddle with mommy.” 

If Noah weren’t in earshot, Steve would make a joke about how he hopes you aren’t talking to him. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t.

You lay back and Noah climbs up onto one side of you, his hands out ready for his bottle, while your arm stretches out for Steve. “Come ‘n’ sit.” 

Steve sits knee to knee with you. He’s not scared of kids, and he isn’t scared of you, either. He knows exactly what he wants, and he isn’t afraid to let you know it, taking your hand where it lies open on your thigh. 

“What were you gonna get?” you ask, nodding to the takeout menu. 

“I don’t know, I’ll have what you’re having,” Steve says. 

“What if you don’t like what I’m having?” 

“I’ll learn.” 

You tip your chin up at him, beaming. “Yeah? What if I like something completely unamerican?” 

“I gotta learn sometime, right?” He squeezes your fingers nicely. 

“Well, my Noah likes everything.” You kiss Noah’s forehead, stealing his attention from his bottle, bright eyes tracing your face and then your hand where Steve is rubbing the back of it. 

“Then he can have some of everything.”

You and Steve share a loving smile. Smiles smiles smiles, everybody’s getting on, this is the best sixth date anyone’s ever had, best date full stop, though your fifth date was a close second. You and Steve had spent hours together in a park in the city eating picnic foods and soaking in the sun together, your nose brushing off of his ribs, his jacket balled up under your head. He’d kissed you twice that night when you finally, sorrily had to go home, and you’d said, Aw, I really like you, as you held hands on the stoop. He should’ve asked you then to give it a proper go, but now he’s met Noah he figures it’s as good a time as any. 

“Hey,” Steve begins, clearing his throat, “would you–”

“Woh!” Noah shouts around the teet of his bottle. It falls from his lips. “We wiw hands,” he garbles, a bunch of baby flavoured gibberish as he leans over your stomach to cover your hand where it’s held in Steve’s. “Mom!” 

“What, babe?” 

“My hand!” 

“You’re not jealous, are you?” you ask with a laugh. 

“Mom!” he says, slapping your hands insistently with his own. 

Steve loosens your fingers, leaving a gap between your palms. “Quick, bud, put your hand in.” 

Noah climbs onto your leg and presses his hand into the fold, though he grows annoyed at the weird fit, and immediately starts to sniffle. Steve winces, but you’re used to it. “Aw, don’t start the waterworks. Come on, what happened to sharing? We’re good sharers.” 

Steve lets go of your hand. He’s reluctant, sure, but he doesn’t wanna be on anyone’s bad side. Noah cries for a few seconds like he’s forgotten why he’s upset, but he sees your open palm and the cog finishes turning. 

“Hold mommy’s hand,” you say, wiggling your fingers. 

Noah thinks about it. He ends up on his side across your leg staring at you, then at Steve, who smiles at him cheerfully. “He’s so handsome,” Steve says. “He has your face. Guess that’s why you’re so handsome, huh?” He shakes his head at Noah gently. “‘Cos you got all your good looks from your mommy.”

“He knows what that means,” you preen, leaning down to speak closer to Noah’s ear. “Don’t you? You’re my handsome boy.” 

Noah puts his hand in Steve’s with another tinkling laugh. 

“Oh! I see how it is, you wanna be Steve’s friend too. Can’t let me have anything for myself, can you?” 

“No,” Noah says cheekily. 

Steve collects Noah’s little hand in his. “Good!” he says. “You should get everything you want, just like mom.”

“Think so?” you ask. 

Steve nods. 

You cover Noah’s eyes with your hand and move up to press a quick kiss to Steve’s lips. “Like you?” you ask. 

Steve’s just stoked to have someone he likes actually like him back at the same level. Noah squirms away from your hand to squeeze Steve’s tighter. Two someones. 

“Like me,” he says, grinning. 

“Mommy, kiss!” Noah says urgently. “Kiss!” 

You pull your gaze from Steve’s. “Sorry, I’m sorry! Come here, baby, I’ll give you a kiss too. I guess I’m gonna be giving double the kisses I used to, my poor chapped lips.” You kiss kiss kiss Noah across the forehead. 

Steve flusters thinking about it, making a mental note to get you some chapstick. He’d go pretty crazy for a crown of kisses like that. 

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[keyotosprompts]

love's possessing me ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

ur fav tropes (with variations) + microtropes

⇴ person a + person b are both looking for each other, and they wander all around the place until they finally meet in the middle, where they both crash into each other

⇴ enemies to lovers (kind of) because they're in opposite factions that feud. until one day they run into each other on accident, immediately want to kill the other, and get trapped together. slowly, they discover that their own factions are awful, and they must work together to stop injustice (mk storyline!!!)

⇴ super serious and put together b turns into pure mush at the sight of a. i'm talking the brain stopped functioning call 911 bc we think they suffered brain damage. no they're just in love with person a.

⇴ having their own secret code. whether it be hand signs behind their backs, secret looks, or secret touches—as long as it's a secret then i will eat it up.

⇴ getting so tired that person b falls and person a has to catch them. person b ends up laying their head on person a's shoulder, and person a is now stuck with person b

⇴ "i'm not falling in love" and they fall the hardest (idc how used it is i will eat it up until i die)

⇴ person b admiring how person a brightens up any room when they get excited. "the look of love" as some would call it

⇴ two people that help each other heal. they've both had rough pasts, and when they meet each other—initially they hate it but—things start to mend (hometown cha cha cha anyone???)

⇴ banter and teasing at first meeting, but the more they get to know each other, the more they begin to connect.

⇴ person a + person b fighting over who has to sleep on the couch (they're staying at the other person's house), until they both agree on sleeping in the same bed together

⇴ friends to lovers but the other party did not consider them friends. (yikesssss)

⇴ "you lied to me! you kept lying straight to my face! and you expect me to forgive you?" "what are you talking about?! did you never get my letter?" "what letter?" (oh ur cooked)

⇴ "you deserve better than me." "that's not your decision to make, that's mine."

⇴ person a literally thinking they're the worst person in the world, and then there's person b, who can fight through the darkness and find the light

⇴ "you wouldn't understand!" "then tell me. i just want to listen."

⇴ person a's overworking themselves, so person b has to manually close their computer and put away their work and force them to sleep

⇴ person a stays up for person b to get home, but falls asleep. person b takes a ton of photos of them and then carries them to bed (and joins them later snuggling them ofc)

hey guys! keyotos here. this is a little out of my lane but i created this post for my writing event on my writing blog. but anyone else, feel free to use these and lmk if u guys like content similar to this!

#keyotosprompts #fluff prompts ⋆˚✿˖° #angst prompts ⋆⑅˚₊ #writeblr #writing #writing prompts #otp prompts #otp writing #imagine your otp #otp prompt #prompts #story prompt #creative writing #dialogue prompts #writing inspiration #keyotos 1k event

[bluerosefox]

Invites

"OMA, kill meeeee" Ellie, aka Wrath complained as she allowed her head to 'thunk' on the cafeteria table in the Watchtower she phased into in order to sit in next to a boy dressed in red, yellow, and green.

"Aren't you already halfway there?" Came Robin's response as he took a drink of his water, eyeing his teammate with a raised eyebrow, though it was difficult to tell with his mask in place.

"OMA?" Asked Superboy on the other side of the boy.

"Shush you." She said towards Robin before answering Superboy "Oh my Ancients, it's like OMG but like for us ghosties."

"Tt" "Oh!" Came both their responses.

"So..." began Superboy after a few minutes of silence between them as he looked at Ellie like a confused puppy "Why?"

Ellie groaned and just stayed slumped on the table as she said "Da's dumb Observants council is hosting another dumb ball to try to get him or me hitched again, and like always I'm forced to attend because I'm Da's heir. We both hate it with a passion, most are just stuck up, power hungry, social climbers trying to get into our pants for the royal titles... Espcially if they become our Forevermores."

"Tt, why not just get rid of them? Or simply have your Father dismiss the ball." Robin said, his eye twitching in annoyance just at the thought of it. A ball sounded even more annoying than the gala parties he is made to go to.

"Sounds stressful... Also Forevermores?" Superboy asked, he was always curious of Ellie and her ghost culture but never knew what could be asked or not, he had been warned to never ask how a ghost died after all and that question is normally asked in every ghost hunter video on the internet.

"Forevermores is our term for the ONE. The one and only we will ever be with. Till our final end takes us we are always to be with them only. We are core creatures and bonding on that level is like sacred, we don't rush into bonding like that though. But everyone in the Realms hopes to be either become mine or Da's. And the ball is their best chance at meeting us on neutral grounds." Ellie explained as best as she could for Jon, it was hard trying to explain the type of level a Forevermore was "And to answer you Robin, Da can't. The Observants, despite how annoying they can get with their dumb demands, are part of the system council for the Realms, they're sadly needed to keep things in check hence their name. Da and his friends are still trying to find a loophole to get rid of them though. They were only created when they put Tyrant King to sleep and they still sadly have some backings from other powerful ghosts in the Realms, even an Ancient or two and in order to fully dismiss them we need all Ancients on board. And the ball keeps a lot of ghosts, especially the more powerful ones, errr I guess happy? Most just use it to gossip on neutral grounds, others just like to dance, network, or other junk like that. Basically, when it's not about them trying to get mine or Da's hand in ghost marriage, it's fun so Da can't dismiss it, it'll ruffle to many feathers."

"Wow..." "Tt." Were the response from her teammates.

"Yeah. Da really isn't happy because someone suggested inviting powerful people from a few Mortal Realms this time. Somehow it got approved. So... here." She said as she reached into her own chest, phasing her hand in, and pulled out two green envelopes and placed them on the table in front of them. Both boys stared in surprise to see their names written in dark purple ink and the stylized DP on it.

"CW let me invite you guys personally. Everyone else should be getting theirs in about a few minutes complete with a blaze of green fire and spooky vibes." Ellie said with a strained smile, both happy to invite them but also dreading the questions she'll no doubt have to answer once the invites were sent.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #crossover #dp x dc #blue rambles #danny phantom dc #writing ideas #random idea #dpxdc #dani phantom #danielle phantom #ghost king danny #princess dani #Ellie is Wrath in DC world #she joined Jon and Damian's team #everyone knows she the heir to the Infinite Realms #she is dreading the upcoming ball #she groans in annoyance when those around Danny's age take one look at him and decide to flirt #thats her Da stop flirting with him #is Danny a young adult like Jason's age or like Bruce's age idk? #either age frame works tbh #fyi this isnt my shenanigans idea it just spawned and woundnt let go

[divine-donna]

all you need is more radaway

save a horse. ride a cowboy. ;)

anyways i really loved the tv show and i love the game. and ghouls are just chef's kiss. or maybe that's because i love monsters. sad that i finished it so quickly. :(

perhaps i can put what i learned in my western class to good use lol

character: cooper howard aka. the ghoul

it's never easy surviving the wasteland. you don't know how you managed to survive for this long. perhaps because you seemed to have been blessed with incredible luck.

and building up endurance, of course.

you felt little to no side effects from the radiation of the food you were eating. which just meant you had a lot of radaway and rad-x stocked up.

to make ends meet, though, you had to start hunting. scavenging and scrapping by wasn't enough. you needed the extra caps.

thus your rivalry with another bounty hunter was born.

"well, well. aren't you far from home, sweetheart?"

you were used to comments about your outfit. a vault suit. yes, you came from one. you had been exiled after your father was revealed to be managing the experiment behind it. the child pays for the sins of the father always.

"you're not the first and you won't be the last." you pull the head off the body as clean as possible.

"now i don't know if you should do that."

"and why not?"

a bullet flies past you and burrows itself into the ground. you finally look up. a cowboy hat. the face of a ghoul. his gun pointing right at you.

but you weren't afraid.

"because he's my target." he pulls out a piece of paper. "and he's mine."

"seems unfair if i did all the work. and you just collect his head and the prize." you pull out the same piece of paper. yours is a little more worn out though. and covered in dried blood.

"that's the way of the wasteland sweetheart."

"if you believe so."

your hands were fast. two bullets lodged into his right left and when he looks up, you're gone.

of course, you learned from the best: western holotapes. you really liked them when you were growing up. claimed to want to be a lone hero.

in some ways, you were. the wasteland was just a new version of the wild west, wasn't it?

"spaghetti? like...the pasta?"

more like spaghetti western. he knew that, of course. but no one in the wasteland knew what a spaghetti western was. they were remnants of a past long gone and one only accessible by holotapes in the vaults.

"that's their name." the person says. "why? you have business with them?"

"perhaps." the ghoul was looking to return a favor.

"don't even try. they're far more formidable than you think."

"we'll see about that."

your rivalry was an exchange of bullets, more often than not. thankfully, you always stocked up on bloodbags and could make a stimpack from your heavy (but useful) travel chemistry kit. you were smart like that.

surprisingly, it became something to look forward. mostly because the ghoul preferred if he tried killing you, so he managed to get you out of a tough situation by killing the other people trying to kill you.

and you returned the favor. there was something satisfying about lodging a bullet into him again.

unfortunately, this left you two stuck on a job once. captured by raiders. you had been knocked out with a drug. and he had collapsed from...something.

"fuck." you mutter, pulling at the ropes binding you. your luck had run out for the day it seems, because your arms were tied to the ghoul's around this godforsaken pole. the metal was also uncomfortably rubbing up against your skin.

"you got a knife or anything sharp?" he looks over at you. it's rare to see him without his cowboy hat. his head was rather smooth.

you chuckle a little.

"something funny?" the ghoul asks.

"nothing. you're just...shaped like an egg."

"very funny."

"let me guess. your answer is no?"

"i don't have a knife up my sleeve, sadly. think they took it."

"shame." the ghoul shimmies something out of his own sleeve. he flicks the blade out and begins sawing at the rope. "watch your fingers."

you keep your fingers tucked in. eventually, the rope on your wrists comes undone and one arm soon after. the rest comes off and you rub your skin. "fuck these guys. always hated raiders."

"well, we both got sold out. we need to find that thing now. or else we'll be dead by sunrise." he tugs on the door of the jail cell and clicks his tongue.

"i don't have sharp objects. but i do have these." you pull out the bobby pin taped on the inside of your sleeve, alongside a mini screwdriver.

the lock wasn't very complicated, so you picked it with ease.

as you both are grabbing your equipment, you hear footsteps up above. light ones and heavier ones. and the sound of a muffled, altered, robotic voice.

the brotherhood of steel was worse than raiders, honestly.

"you go left, i go right. how does that sound?"

"i don't usually like taking orders from my rivals." he reloads his gun. "but for you? sure."

the event left the both of you soaked in the blood of your enemies. on the other hand, you guys left with plenty of loot and an idea of where your target was: dead. at the bottom of a lake.

it was a journey to get there, wherein you learned the details of each other's lives. you didn't think he was paying much attention to your sentences. after all, you came from a vault.

and yet, you saw a hint of sympathy in his eyes.

he seemed less keen on sharing details about his life, aside from his former name. cooper howard.

undeniably, as a fan of westerns, you recognized his names. from the holotapes.

"they had those?" cooper shakes his head, taking sips of water. "no way."

"yes way! it's where i learned to shoot."

"from watching my movies?"

"yes!"

"that is...a pleasant surprise." cooper leans back.

"that also makes you over 200 years old."

"that it does. something wrong with that?"

"no. the wasteland changes people." you maintain your attention to your suit, sewing a tear up. "just...you're looking for something, aren't you? everyone's always looking for something up here."

"are you looking for something?" his voice hardens and he sits up straight.

"i was. and then i found it. and i stopped." you tie the thread to seal the stitch and then tear the thread with your teeth. "i hope you find what you're looking for though."

"well, that's awfully kind of you, sweetheart."

"i have a name, you know."

"what is it?"

"(y/n)."

getting personal in the wasteland was something cooper wasn't adamant about. but the circumstances seems to call for it.

"guess we're even now."

the body of water was daunting. it was murky and dark. you pursed your lips and dumped your bag. "well. guess we have no choice."

cooper looks over at you then quickly turns around when he sees what you're doing: taking off your suit and going down to your underwear. "what are you doing?"

"i'm going to go get that head. that's how we get paid, right? easy three thousand caps. 15 hundred split evenly." you stretch.

"i think you might die."

"i'll be fine. i've done it before." Aquaperson perk.

"i can also swim, you know."

"i'll be fine cooper." you pop a rad-x pill just in case. "be back in a bit."

you dive like a swan, making minimal splash into the water. your form disappears beneath the darkness.

you're gone beneath the water for over an hour. cooper's heart was beating against his rib cage. you should be out by now. it should not be that hard. did something get you? things lurked beneath the murky waters always.

"fuck!"

he drops his equipment and begins stripping down, until he is just in his pants. he would need to dive after you. if you were dead, then so be it. it was fun while it lasted.

suddenly, you emerge. you take in the oxygen of the surface and hold the head up high. "got 'em." you swim over to the shore and walk out of the water.

there was something about how...wet you were that got him feeling hot and bothered.

"something happen down there?"

"couple of mirelurks. no big deal. which reminds me." you set the head on the ground and go back into the water. within minutes, you're pulling out the bodies of the mirelurks you had killed. "dinner."

while cutting the mirelurks open, you observe the way he walks around you. his muscles bulging a little as he cuts a mirelurk open and takes the meat. he was kind of...attractive?

"were you going to come after me?" he stops cutting hearing your question. "in the water, i mean."

"so what if i did?" cooper averts his eyes.

"that's sweet of you. i didn't know you had a soft spot for me."

"i don't."

"sure." you can tell he was lying through his teeth.

dinner was a nice, cozy meal. it was delicious. a nice surprise considering the nature of the wasteland.

cooper notices the way you're looking at him. and he looks at you the same way.

though how does this work exactly?

"do you want to..." you try to find a decent way to say this. fuck is a good term. but it felt a little vulgar in the moment.

cooper already knows what you're asking. "absolutely. if you can handle it." he smirks.

it's so cute when he smirks.

you glance over at your bag, looking at your stash of radaway. you had plenty. plus your stash of rad-x too.

"i absolutely can."

#def not my best work #fallout #fallout tv series #fallout prime #the ghoul #cooper howard #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #x reader #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader

[bet-on-me-13]

Ellie wasn't born a Halfa

So! Jason just found something weird. Or rather. Someone.

A little girl, no more than 6 or 7, crying behind a dumpster in an alleyway. Now, as unfortunate as it is, this isn't that strange a sight in Gotham. Kids are always running away from home, getting lost, being left homeless after a mugging gone wrong, but this time was different.

Because the kid was glowing.

When he found her hiding behind the Dumpster, a medical gown being the only thing she had to protect herself from thr frigid Gotham Winter, he didn't hesitate to give her his Jacket and take her to his nearest safe house.

(Actually it took a little while to convince her to accept the Jacket, and even longer to get her to agree to being taken to his safe house, but they got there in the end.)

When he had finally gotten her set up in a side room of the Warehouse, with the most comfortable bed and thickest Blankets he could find, he tried asking what had happened.

"Daddy lied." She said. "He said he loved me, but then he made another kid and said he didn't care about me."

And, once again, it was unfortunately not that uncommon to see runaway kids from neglectful homes, but the way she said it raised some flags in his head.

"...and, how did you end up in Gotham?"

"I ran. He said I was a spare, and that scared me."

Well, that was even more horrible than he had anticipated. What kind of monster tells their kid that they're a spare?!

"And, I'm sorry if this is a touchy subject but why are you glowing?"

She just buried her face in the Blankets and shook her head.

"Alright then, that's fine. You can tell me when you're ready, or even not tell me at all, I'll accept either or".

For the next few weeks, Jason juggled running his newly created criminal empire and raking care of the kid. He still hadn't gotten a name out of her, but she said to call her "Dp" instead. 'It's the best I'm gonna get', he thought.

It was only after a few more weeks, right before he was about to begin his Plan of confronting Bruce about the Joker still being alive, that she approached him and agreed to tell him everything. He was actually really glad that she finally seemed to trust him enough to tell him.

"Okay Dp, you can start wherever you want."

"...well, I guess I should start with my name..." She started, "...or rather, my lack of one..."

"What?" Asked Jason in a soft voice.

"I, I don't have a name." She explained, "Daddy never gave me one. He just called me DP-2."

"...what do you mean by two?" Asked Jason.

"It-It's my Experiment Number." She said, stuttering a little, "I'm not a normal person, I'm a Clone. I was made to be daddy's perfect child, but I was just the test run. He said that I wasn't needed after he made DP-3, and that all I was good for was spare parts."

Jason felt his throat dry up. Dp was a Clone? Of who? Who made her? What right did that guy have to reject her?! Who in their right mind would make a Clone and then reject the Clone?! How dare he!

The Pits perked up

He felt the Pits rising a little, but managed to push them down. Dp needed support, not the Pits.

"It's Okay kid." He said, holding her had reassuringly. "It's perfectly okay to be different. I accept you as you are, and I'm sure as hell not gonna abandon you that easily. Or, ever really. You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not."

She giggled, and hugged him. A thoughtful look crossed her face, and she pulled away.

"There is one other thing...you know how I glow sometimes?" She asked.

The Pits felt a sense of dread

Jason felt like he wasn't going to like this. "Yeah?"

"Well, when I said I was meant to be a Clone, I never mentioned who of." She explained slowly. "He's a kid named Danny, and when he was 14, he had an accident where he died and came back as a Half Undead."

No...

Jason really wasn't liking where this was going.

"When Da-Vlad tried to make me, he realized that those powers couldn't be cloned..." She paused here, seemingly gathering the courage to continue. "...they needed to be added afterwards."

NO.

He didn't. He had better not have, for his own Fucking Sake, he had better not have done what Jason thinks he did.

"So one day, he took he down to the Lab, and he put me in a big machine." He voice broke a little. "He locked me in there, and then I think...that I died..."

...

For once, Jason felt completely in tune with the Pits. He was going to Kill that guy.

...

Sorry if this feels a little rushed, I kept going back to add or change parts of it.

Basically, Vlad realized that you can't Clone a Halfa. So, he made a workaround. He just stuck his first Viable Clone into a Portal, and let the machine Kill her. When he realized that it worked, he knew he had no use for Ellie anymore aside from spare parts.

And he told her as much, Vlad is a fucking asshole.

Ellie, of course, got scared and ran away. She ended up in Gotham, and was adopted by Jason right at the start of his Criminal Career.

When Jason finally hears about the rest of his kids' Backstory, he decides that Batman can wait his turn. He needs to go Kill that Vlad Bastard.

#Dpxdc #Dp x dc #Dcxdp #Dc x dp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Dani Phantom #Danielle Phantom #Ellie Phantom #Ellie is younger #Vlad decided to try his experiment the moment she was old enough to feasibly survive #The Pits are not seperate from Jason #They are actually his Ghost Half (aka his emotional half) shining through #Jason is a Halfa #He doesn't know that though #After they finish their conversation Jason asks Dp if she wants a name #She says yes and eventually he calls her Stella #Or Ellie for short #Cause she is his little starlight #Danny is unaware that Ellie exists #I wonder what happened with him #Maybe he is living his life back in Amity? #Maybe he is on the run because the “real danny” showed up with Vlad claiming that he had been replaced by an Imposter Ghost #And his Parents instantly believed him because Vlad is claiming that he has been no contact for so long trying to save “the real danny” #Maybe Jason finds a second glowing kid hiding behind a dumpster? #And maybe he realizes that this is his daughter's older brother? #Is that what happens? #Well maybe it is #But that's between Me and my crippling inability to finish my Part 2's

[pellucid-constellations]

My Everyday

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was aggressive, annoying, and—worst of all—a hockey player. Not your type. At all. But, unfortunately, your roommate. 

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Minor injury, idiots in love <3, some angst, pining

a/n: My first fic in a century!! Thank you so much for reading if you’re still here. Depending on how this does I hope I’ll have motivation to write more! College athlete Bucky never fails to get me inspired :)

Masterlist

~~

“What’s this punks name again?” 

The breath you let out was long and excruciating. “I am not repeating myself.” 

“C’mon, y/n,” Bucky whined, knocking his head back on the couch. He watched you bustle around the kitchen from his inverted vantage point. “How the hell am I supposed to swoop in and save the day if I don’t even know the kid’s name?” 

“Okay, well, first of all—” the fridge door clicked shut with a swift motion of your hips “—he’s not a ‘kid’. I’m pretty sure he’s a few months older than you.” 

“Semantics.” 

“And second of all,” you stressed, pointing a butter knife in his direction. “There will be no ‘swooping in’. I’m going to have a nice date and you are going to go hang out with your puck rabbits or whatever they're called. There will be no thinking about me and no swooping in my vicinity.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, kicking up from the couch and rounding the kitchen counter to pick at your sandwich. You knocked his hand away several times, but you both knew it was futile. In the months you’d been living with the hockey player—who was far too big for the small, shoebox of an apartment you leased—you’d learned that food was non-negotiable for Bucky Barnes. 

There were many other things you’d learned about him as well. He sang in the shower, but only when he thought you weren’t home. He had an annoying penchant for using your $30 lotion—again, when he thought you weren’t home. And he loved to throw his massive, smelly gear just about anywhere it would land right when he got home from every practice. 

He didn’t really care if you were home for that last one. 

Bucky was the last person you thought you would be rooming with when you posted that ad last summer. A small, quaint room previously occupied by your now engaged (and traitorous) best friend, you assumed someone like-minded to yourself would have taken you up on your offer. The price point wasn’t egregious and the building was relatively close to campus. 

But weeks ticked by, and you started getting desperate. Your landlord wasn’t a nice lady, something you were positive she took pride in, and she decided that a rent increase was the perfect way to ring in the new school year. You were on the verge of destitution, and as it so happened, the only other person as desperate as you was the starting center for your college’s hockey team. 

You hardly got along. It had taken weeks for your eye to stop twitching every time he tumbled through the front door at three in the morning, and even longer for you not to feel an infuriating aggravation at his random, nighttime smoothies. You supposed he probably felt the same about your cleanliness rules and your incessant reminders about trash days. Because Bucky was in charge of bringing the trash down those long, apartment steps. Not you. 

But you’d be lying if you said things hadn’t gotten easier as of late. Conversation flowed more smoothly, things that made you seethe before were only mildly annoying, and Bucky was being… considerate? You weren’t quite sure what to call the random cups of coffee he brought home on occasion. Or his sudden urge to warm up your car when he had a morning class before yours. 

There was also the case of that party last weekend. A frat party with far too many drunk men and not enough common sense, you had had the urge to leave the second you got there. But Wanda had dragged you along for the sole purpose of driving her home after she got hammered, so you were essentially stuck. 

It was fine at first. Hot and crowded and loud, but fine. You kept a general eye on Wanda and scrolled aimlessly on your phone in the armchair you claimed. And then it wasn’t fine, because a man twice your size was encroaching on your space and unrelenting. 

“What kinda girl comes to a party and doesn’t even wanna talk to anyone?” 

“You want to come up to my room and watch a movie or something?” 

“Hey, I’m talking to you, bitch.” 

You weren’t even aware that Bucky had been at that party. It wasn’t surprising—the line between fraternities and sports was blurred at your college—but the space he took up as he intercepted the man in front of you was.

~~

“There a problem here?” Bucky posed, crossing his arms over his chest, his presence looming above your seated position. His weight shifted to his toes.

The man didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, you. Move.” 

“Wanna fucking tell me what to do again?” 

“Fuck you, man.” 

A harsh shove to Bucky’s chest was all it took for a right hook to echo in the living room of the frat house. There was chaos. Grunts and screams from the drunk people surrounding the unnecessary fight created a cacophony of unpleasant sounds that seemed to get the attention of someone in charge. The man—Brian, you had now learned based on screams—was pulled back from Bucky and getting chewed out by some president or manager of something. 

And Bucky was seething, chest rising and falling laboriously as he wiped at the new bruise forming on his face.

Fights were not uncommon. But this one had been about you. For you.

“Bucky?” you asked when the crowd calmed and Brian was no longer in the room. 

You watched his back release its tight coil. He turned. “Are you okay?” 

The words were almost lost in the noise of the crowd, but he was close enough that they created a tactile vibration across your skin. His pupils were dilated and he looked so disheveled it would have been charming if there wasn’t also a cut forming on his brow. 

“Y/n.” 

It took you a moment to realize that you hadn’t answered him. Your response fell out of you as if you’d been shoved. “I’m—I’m fine.” 

He grunted, but it was more of a puff of air. “The fuck was that guy?” 

“I don’t know,” you replied, realizing by the way you swayed that you had stood up at some point. “He just—” 

“We’re going home.” 

“What? I can’t, I’m here with Wanda. I’m driving her, Bucky, I can’t just leave.” 

He grabbed your wrist, the grip achingly soft compared to the blows he was landing minutes before. “She left with that British guy she’s been on and off with. Asked me to tell you.” 

That explained his random appearance. Your brows pinched as you took in the information, eyes cast down to the angry red marks marring Bucky’s knuckles. He’d been in fights before. So many fights. On the ice. 

This was different. 

“I haven’t been drinking—I can drive myself home. You don’t have to leave,” you shouted over the music now bumping in the room. 

He didn’t respond, not verbally. He pulled you to his front instead, leading you through the impossible crowd until cool night air began melting into your skin. His silence was strange. Bucky’s favorite activity was talking your ear off until you told him to shut up, but right now… nothing. Even his earlier words had been clipped. 

You felt responsible for easing the tension in the air as Bucky continued to guide you to your car. You hadn’t told him where you parked, but he seemed to know the exact location anyways.

“You really don’t have to leave with me,” you mumbled. “It wasn’t a big deal or anything.” 

“It was a big deal.” 

~~

The drive home had been silent. The walk to the door had been as well. Bucky spent a few minutes appraising you in the overhead light of the living room when you got inside, but after that there was nothing. He went to his room and you went to yours. 

There was no discussion about it the morning after, either. Bucky apparently wanted to pretend nothing ever happened, so you respected that. Even now, you ignored the fading cuts on his hands as he shoveled food into his mouth.

Bucky’s next words were muffled by a mouthful of bread. “Well where’s this dude taking you at least?”

“Ice skating.”

The cough and sudden exasperation was very expected out of the man next to you, Bucky’s next words hardly containing syllables. “Huh?” 

“We’re going ice skating,” you reiterated. You picked up your lunch and headed for the living room, ignoring the slightly heaviness in your chest. “It’s winter and ice skating is festive. The rink on campus has decorations.” 

“Without me? Y/n, you’re gonna let some guy who probably doesn’t even know how to skate—” 

“Bucky—” you attempted to interrupt. 

“—drag you around the rink like a rag doll?” he continued, holding his hand up to mute your incoming speech. “I’ve asked you to come by the rink, like, a ton of times. You’ve never shown any interest.” 

You rolled your eyes and shot him a cross look as he picked your feet up from where they rested on the couch and dropped them into his lap. He went on with his rant for a little while longer, knocking his head back against cushions and accusing you of being a bad roommate. You had a few rebuttals of your own, but there was a reason you had never accompanied him to the rink. 

A good reason. 

You didn’t date athletes. 

It was true that simply going to visit Bucky at a practice, or letting him be the one to drag you around the ice like a rag doll, wouldn’t mean you were in a relationship by any means. But it would be an extra step. And if you were being honest with yourself, it would only take a few of those extra steps for the irritation you felt towards Bucky to melt into something else. 

And you didn’t date athletes. 

You did not. 

You didn’t have the time, nor the patience, to put up with the cheating, the anger issues, or the crazy schedules. And there wasn’t a single athlete you’d met at your sport-centered university that was willing to compromise on any of those subjects. Especially the cheating. You’d learned that the hard way after dating a lacrosse player for approximately one month before receiving the dreaded DM from a girl you had never met. 

The man hadn’t even given you the courtesy of pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. He just admitted to his wrong-doing and shrugged. Shrugged. 

So athletes were not exactly in your good graces when it came to dating. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky cut through your thoughts, patting your shin in impatience. 

You blinked and reoriented yourself, focusing on the hairs that fanned across Bucky’s face. “Of course I am,” you lied. “But my answer is still the same. I’m going on my date and you are not going on my date.” 

He groaned, apparently giving up as he cradled your legs closer to him to lean over and grab the remote from the coffee table. He flipped the channel to ESPN—typical—and you ate your sandwich, silently cursing him. He had a TV in his room. 

“When is it?” he suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had knitted itself into a comfortable blanket over the room. 

“Tonight,” you answered plainly. 

The arms atop your legs tensed. 

~~

The dichotomy of the man sitting beside you was impressive. On one hand, he was so full of himself that he had missed almost all of your conversation starters due to being so transfixed by his reflection in the rink’s glass. He had yet to ask you a single question about yourself and had insisted that the four other girls skating tonight were in love with him. 

On the other hand, he was, quite possibly, the most uninteresting person you had ever met. You were usually very quick to laugh, but every word out of his mouth was almost painful. He wouldn’t stop talking about his ex-girlfriend, gave you one word answers about anything other than baseball, and was honestly really terribly at ice skating. You were no pro either, but you found yourself on your back every time he tried holding your hand.

The tumble five minutes ago had you seeking out the penalty box on the side of the rink. You needed a break, you had told him, hoping he would continue on making a fool of himself and give you a moment alone. But he followed you instead, and was now sitting beside you, talking about baseball.

You supposed that was better than making you fall while talking about baseball.

“I bet we could do that,” he remarked, pointing out onto the ice and catching your attention. A couple who clearly had more experience than you was twirling each other around. “We definitely could. I pick up good speed.” You cringed. “I really don’t think we should try, Sean. My tailbone is already pretty bruised.” 

“Oh, c’mon! I won’t try the throwing part, just the twisty stuff.” 

“We are literally on rental skates. You will kill me,” you deadpanned. You were tired at this point and seriously questioning why you thought ice skating was a good first date idea. 

Well, there actually was an answer for that. But you were not going to think about the hockey player that popped into your head when Sean asked you on a date in the dining hall last week. 

Definitely not. 

“I’m not going to let my date think I’m boring,” Sean groaned, yanking you up from your seat. 

You gave a few tugs and words of resistance but they were ultimately useless. You figured it would be just as useless to tell the guy you already thought he was boring. He probably wouldn’t even hear you. 

On unsteady skates, Sean guided you to a mostly cleared corner of the rink and gripped your forearms. He squinted as he surveyed the area, the corner of his mouth turning up in a way that made your stomach roll. This entire date had been a bad idea.

“Maybe we should just watch them do it,” you tried, words wavering. 

“No!” he grinned. “No, we got this. It’s gonna look so cool.” 

And then you were spinning. You’d never been spun against your will before, but it sucked. Your skates kept getting stuck in the divots in the ice and the grip on your forearms was close to bruising. You were starting to get dizzy and Sean showed no signs of caring. God, he really was dragging you around the rink like a rag doll. Bucky was going to get a kick out of this.

“Okay, ready?” Sean called, an unwarranted jubilation in his tone. 

“What?” you yelled. 

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he let go, and you went flying in another direction without a clear path. It only lasted a moment, but the sound of your head smacking onto the ice signified the end of that movement. You landed on your arm next, and then your back. Again. 

This time felt different though. Your head was spinning and there were muted pinpricks trailing up to your wrist. The ache there was dulled compared to the biting iciness in your back, but as soon as you tried leaning on it to get up, it became sharp.

“Oh shit!” came Sean’s laughter-filled gasp. “My bad. I really didn’t mean to let go.” 

You blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from your vision but it proved unhelpful. “I think… I think my arm’s broken.” 

“Wait, seriously?” he asked, wobbling down to a seat beside you. 

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Everything okay over here?” a voice interrupted. You tried blinking again to take in the man that towered over the two of you, but the lights overhead washed him out. 

You recognized him…maybe? You felt like you were going to throw up. 

Sean answered for you. “Yeah, man, we’re fine. She just fell.” 

“Y/n, are you okay?” the man asked, ignoring your date completely.

“Do I know you?” you slurred.

You thought you heard a curse. “What made you think throwing her around was a good idea?” 

“Dude, it wasn’t even that fast. Or my fault. She just couldn’t keep her feet under her.” 

“Well, dude, maybe you should go home.” 

Sean scoffed. “Right, and who’s going to take this one home?” 

Your head was starting to hurt with all of the back and forth. The man that just joined, the taller one, kneeled down beside you. His blonde hair cast a harsh glare that had you squinting again. 

“You want me to call Bucky?” he asked.

Bucky? How would he know Bucky? Blonde hair began morphing into a man in your memory, and you reached for the material of his shirt, looping it between your fingers.

“Steve Rogers?” you mumbled. 

The man, now identified as Steve, sighed. “I’m calling him. Go home, Sean. Her roommate is coming to get her.” 

There was more discussion, something about Steve having the authority to kick him out and Sean not understanding what all of the fuss was about. Steve warned him about something and Sean scoffed as if the situation was beneath him. And then he left. 

Steve was then in your line of sight again, brows pinched together and a bright orange vest covering his shoulders. His hands hovered in front of you as if you’d break if he touched you and you almost found it funny. Steve was a huge guy with a lot of authority on Bucky’s team, but right now he looked like a scared animal. 

“Why are you dressed like a construction worker?” you asked. 

A small smile graced his face. “I’m working at the rink today. Everyone on the team has to take shifts during the holidays.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed. “I think my arm is broken.” 

“I know. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion too. Let’s get you off the ice, yeah?” 

You tried to nod, but that hurt too much so you let Steve assist you in shakily standing up. He guided you to the seats by the rental skate counter with a soft but sure hand on your back, asking some guy named Antonio for an ice pack. Everything around you felt like a fever dream. 

Gentle touches rolled the sleeve of your sweater back to reveal a swollen wrist that Steve immediately covered with an ice pack. 

He cursed again. “Well he’s gonna be pissed.” 

“Who?” Your head swayed with the question. 

Steve looked up to meet your gaze, lips parting to answer, when he was replaced by a different face. Your brain was having trouble keeping up with everything, obviously, because Bucky was in front of you now. He was kneeling between your legs with his hands on your face and you had no idea where Steve went. 

“What the fuck?” you blurted out. 

“Hey, y/n.” Bucky spoke your name low and soothing, his fingers moving to your eyes where he pried them open one at a time and looked for something you couldn’t see. His next words were directed over his shoulder. “Maybe a concussion. Tell me what happened again?” 

“Sean Marcus was being an ass. Flung her all over the place,” Steve replied. 

“Why are you here?” you interjected, trying to focus on one thing at a time. “I told you not to come on my date.” 

Bucky moved his assessment to your arm next, shifting the ice pack. “Never really agreed to those terms.” 

He turned back to Steve after that, having another discussion that you barely understood. Bucky absentmindedly fiddled with the material of your jeans as he spoke, and you put all of your energy into not face planting on the ground. This past week had truly been a series of terrible events with terrible men. 

After some amount of time elapsed, you were walking to the parking lot with a jacket thrown over your shoulders and Bucky continuously jutting a hand out each time you took a step. He was very well versed in concussions, apparently. 

“Okay, in you go, killer,” Bucky prompted, opening the passenger door. 

You eyed the front seat, scrunching your face up. “My arm hurts.” 

The man in front of you seemed to soften, his shoulders dropping on a long exhale. “I know, sweetheart. But we gotta go to the hospital to fix that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I should just call Wanda. Or Nat. You don’t have to be the one to take me.” 

“I can take you just fine.”

“Why do you want to you? Aren’t you busy?” 

Another long sigh, this one accompanied by hands on your shoulders, fingers at the base of your neck. “Get in the car.”

His eyes were boring into yours, searching for something, or maybe already finding it there. You still had your arm cradled to your chest and you titled your head to the side as you observed him. There was something else to his gaze that you couldn’t quite describe. It reminded you of his expression after he came home from a rough game. Angry. Discontent. 

“You’re being weird,” you commented, breaking the silence you had created. 

“You broke your arm and smacked your head on the ice,” he simply replied, as if the statement was an explanation. 

“Yeah, but—” 

“And then that douchebag did nothing about it,” Bucky interrupted. “So please, y/n, get in the car so I can help you before I find him and kick his ass. Because you know I’m not above fighting people.” 

You blinked, and then slid into the front seat. 

The drive was quiet. You’d never been in Bucky’s car before, but the spinning in your head didn’t give you much space to inspect it too closely. You caught hockey gear in the back, a keycard to the rink dangling off the rearview mirror, and a small collection of hair ties in one of the cupholders. One caught your attention.

“Hey, this one’s mine.” You picked up the purple band and rolled it between your fingers. “Thief.” 

Bucky snatched it back. “Mine now.” 

He made a sharp turn that had you sucking air between your teeth and repositioning your arm. Bucky sent you a quick, achingly apologetic look. 

“Sorry, almost there.” A long beat of silence and then a mumbled, “I should keep your hair tie. You won’t be able to do your hair alone with a broken arm anyway.” 

~~

Your wrist was fractured, not broken. You also only had a minor concussion. This was all great news to you, especially since they told you after administering a hefty amount pain reliever. To Bucky, this was apparently terrible, life-altering news. 

After practically body slamming into the front door of your apartment, he chucked his wallet and keys down on the kitchen counter and began grumbling to himself as he opened and closed kitchen cabinets. You watched from a distance, half amused, half concerned for the rusting hinges. He finally found what he was looking for—a cup—and continued to mutter to himself as he filled it with gatorade. 

“Are you… okay?” you asked tentatively. 

Bucky ripped the freezer open and manhandled three to four ice cubes. “I’m fine. You are not.” 

“I’m okay now,” you assured. Bucky stalked over to you anyways, pressing the sports drink into your hand that was not wrapped in a cast.

You looked down at the glass and sent him a baffled look. He nodded at it and raised his brows, a silent demand for you to drink. 

“Okay. And why do I need to drink gatorade?” Your words were slow. 

“You were just on the ice and haven’t had any water for at least three hours.” 

“Bucky,” you began. “I was ice skating recreationally for about thirty minutes. I don’t need to replenish my electrolytes.” 

“Will you just… will you just drink the damn drink?” he groaned, gesturing to it with a firm hand. “Jesus, I can’t take care of you when you go and get yourself hurt by idiots. So just let me do what I know I can do, alright?” 

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You were beginning to raise your voice, matching some of the frustration in the room. 

Bucky threw his hands in the air, tugging at his roots on the way down. He moved further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter with stiff, rod-like arms propping him up. And then he sighed, long and profound as if this was the hardest conversation he’d had all year. His head hung heavy between stiff shoulders and you felt the environment shift. 

You almost wanted to intervene on his thoughts again, to make some comment about the dishes in the dishwasher or pretend you were going to go take a nap. But he had something to say, something you needed to hear, and so you stayed. You blinked and clenched your fist in the uncomfortable silence, but you stayed. 

“Y/n, I want to take care of you,” Bucky breathed out, words still directed toward the floor, almost too low to make out. “I’ve been tryna get you to see that for weeks now, but you’ve either got no clue or you want absolutely nothing to do with me.” 

You stopped blinking, stopped fidgeting, stopped breathing altogether. You watched as Bucky drummed his fingers against the counter and still refused to look up. You swallowed hard because you weren’t clueless, but also because you wanted everything to do with Bucky Barnes. 

And nothing at the same time. 

“Bucky…” you began, with a tone of surprise you weren’t sure was believable.

“Don’t do it yet,” he stopped you. “Don’t…don’t tell me no yet. I’m still pissed as hell that you got hurt and you shouldn’t be alone with a concussion. I don’t need you avoiding me when you can’t even drive a car.” 

“You’re being presumptuous.” 

He snapped his head up, his eyes rushing back and forth between your own. The drumming on the counter ceased, instead replaced by balled up fists turning white under days old cuts and fading bruises. He didn’t say anything. You searched the empty air for a reply. 

“I wouldn’t avoid you. I don’t know if I could avoid you—not anymore. You’re sort of a big part of my life now.” A good start, you thought. Not a real answer, but not a rejection. 

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and eyed the drink still perspiring in your hand. You set it down at his observance, moving closer to his slumped posture in the kitchen. 

But Bucky stood up straight at your movement, becoming guarded, stiff. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Bad timing, just forget it. You should try and get some sleep.” 

“I don’t want to forget it,” you softly spoke, shaking your head.

He clenched his jaw. “And I don’t want to hear that you don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you. Not right now. I feel like I’m going insane, watching you go out on dates and having my best friend tell me that my girl—that’s not really my girl—is all banged up on the ice because of some asshole.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky kept going, now pacing in the kitchen. “I mean, y/n, you’re my everyday. I wake up and you’re making coffee. You text me in class to ask what I need at the grocery store and then I call you after practice to make sure you got back to the apartment. I think about you so god damn much and I can’t believe there was a time in my life that I didn’t get to end my day in a home that has you. And you’re just my roommate. You want nothing to do with athletes, I get it—” he added, catching your eye in the middle of his rant, “—but, shit, I haven’t even looked at another girl since… well it doesn’t even matter.”

“Tell me,” you whispered. There were a million other things you could’ve said, a million explanations that would have made sense. But the two soft words stopped Bucky from tracking holes in the ground. They shoved him from his shallow breaths and made him look at you. 

And, god, did he look at you. You must have been worse for wear. A hospital visit mixed with one too many tumbles onto solid ice probably had your hair in disarray and your face pressed with exhaustion, but his gaze was revering. Candy-coated red with soft blues melting below brows that fluxed with the movement of his lips; Bucky was beautiful, and he was looking at you as if you matched.

His tone confirmed as much, light and saccharin as he said, “That dumb movie a few weeks ago, the one about the superheroes. Your friends wouldn’t watch it with you so you made me. You were so excited even though it was awful and you were out like a light within the first hour. You rolled over onto me and I wasn’t gonna wake you up so I sorta just held you.” 

He paused, trailing his eyes up to the light fixtures. “At the risk of sounding pathetic, it felt like I had you, you know? Like we were going through all our usual motions, but after I annoyed the hell out of you and you told me off, you were mine. I can’t… I can’t really picture that with another girl.” 

There were very few times you had considered yourself speechless. But with Bucky Barnes standing in front of you, red-faced and vulnerable and still wearing the stupid hospital nametag they made him put on in the waiting room, you had no words. There was none of the arrogance you usually associated with him, no short-temper or pestering taunts. It was just Bucky, and he was pouring his heart onto the kitchen floor. For you. 

“You get why you can’t tell me no just yet?” he asked, trying to get something out of you. Anything. “You can break my heart, but let me just make sure you’re okay first. And I can’t beat the shit out of Sean if we aren’t on speaking terms.” 

The laugh that left you was one of disbelief, but the breathiness and accompanying tears fit the heaviness of the room. Your glossy eyes met Bucky’s and something flashed on his face, but it was soon out of your line of sight because you were kissing him. You were kissing him hard and your bodies were too close for the cast between you but it didn’t matter. 

He didn’t respond at first, hand hovering at your back. But then he did and the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor was gone from your bare feet. He sat you on the counter, so gently, as if you were glass, and you let your hand brush against the cracks and divots of your home. The one that Bucky came back to every night to see you. 

The one that had housed so many nights of confusion and longing and denial.

The one that had Bucky kissing the life out of you on the kitchen counter. 

He pulled away first, forehead pressed to yours. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to do that.” 

“You can do it again.” 

“Oh, I will, baby.” 

Laughter met in the air between you—sweet, short, intertwined. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many instances like the one he shared before where you were left questioning boundaries and feelings and lines. But, you figured, there would be so many opportunities to tell him. So much time together. 

“I texted Wanda that night,” you shared, interrupting the kisses he was pressing to your cheek. “After I woke up and you had taken me back to my room.” 

He smiled against your skin. “What’d you say?” 

“I told her I was an idiot—that I was falling for the enemy.” 

Bucky ran a soft hand along the back of your head, a smirk lighting up his face. He was slotted between your legs and kept his other hand firmly pressed onto the kitchen counter, caging you in, making sure your arm didn’t hit the cabinets. 

“And is that true?” 

“I don’t know,” you hummed, connecting your foreheads once again, wanting to stay impossibly close. “Try to cure my broken bone with gatorade again and we’ll see.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #marvel fanfiction #college!bucky

[bedoballoons]

Fontaine, Sumeru , Inazuma boys + Zhongli and Xiao with a GN! Darling that has Newts Briefcase from fantastic beasts

Your blog looks beautiful btw

Awwe thank you so much!! <3 I hope you enjoy!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃

{༻~Reader with a briefcase like Newts~༺}

CW: Fluffy and magical! (Pet names: Lyney: Mon amour)

(Includes: Lyney, Zhongli, Tighnari, Heizou, and Xiao!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney obviously didn't know every magic trick in Teyvat, that would be almost impossible, but he did know quite a few of them and he could usually figure out how others were done fairly quickly, but how your suitcase managed to hold a whole boar, crystalflies of every element, and tens more animals, some of which he'd never seen before, was beyond anything even he could imagine.

You'd left him speechless, mouth agape as he stared at you in awe, "Mon amour, how is this possible? How are you doing that?" You blushed slightly, seeing the way his eyes shun like that of child's when they see something magic for the first time, "I can't tell, it's a secret, but you're welcome to use it for one of your shows, just make sure to feed the scorpions, they get angry otherwise and they aren't very nice when they're angry."

𑁍༄Zhongli:

Zhongli stared at your happy face, your arms extended outwards, being used as a perch for at least 10 exotic birds...all of which had appeared from your suitcase. Originally he had assumed this was only possible because the work of an adepti, but upon closer inspection he saw no signs of adeptal power, infact it seemed completely foreign to him...which only made him more curious.

"You say it can hold as many animals as the forests of Liyue? That's certainly a incredible feat...may I asked how you've acquired such a unique and interesting treasure?" He smiled slightly at you, hoping you'd clear up the mysterious nature behind the briefcase, but you simply chuckled, "One day I'll tell you, but for now it would be far more fun to keep it a secret~"

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari was sitting in front of your suitcase with his eyes glued to it like at any moment it could actually explode, not because it was somehow holding more animals than he even knew of, but from the sheer amount power such a item would have to have. In all of his days of studying at the akademiya and traveling to other lands in search of new plant varieties, he'd never seen anything like it. "Does it contains exotic plants as well? Do each of the animals have their own ecosystems? If you shut the suitcase for to long does the oxygen run out or does the suit case somehow supply oxygen? Have you ever tried to go in the suit case?"

Your eyes widened at his many questions, more and more spilling from his lips before he could stop himself...frazzling you slightly. You hadn't expected him to get so excited about it, but even with his never ending questions, it was absolutely adorable to see him this way. It was like he'd found a miracle and he wanted to learn everything about it with you.

𑁍༄Heizou:

Heizou stuck his head into your suitcase, trying to find clues as to how it worked, but the detective was more than just stumped, he was simply baffled as to how something like it could even exist. "You weren't joking when you said you wanted to show me something beyond my imagination. I've seen Onis with horns fight beetles and gods who can make the air actually buzz with emotion, but I don't think I've ever seen anything that has come close to the mystery behind this. Do you think you could live in it?"

"I suppose you could, but I'm not exactly sure. You could be the test subject if you'd like." You winked at him teasingly and he smiled up at you, almost like he was actually considering it for moment, "I think I prefer the scenery in the outside world, but we could always take a romantic vacation together inside the suitcase~" Your cheeks turned a scarlett red as he giggled at you quietly, if you teased him, it was only fair he teased back.

𑁍༄Xiao:

Xiao kneeled down, softly scratching the underside of a mora weasels chin, unbothered by the fact the animal had just run out of your suitcase along side a fairly massive boar. You actually seemed more surprised by his reaction than he did of your suitcase, "So what do you think hmm?"

"I think,...it reminds of the teapots us adepti sometimes use. They appear normal on the outside, but on the inside it's a island specifically designed with our comfort in mind, I've never seen a suitcase version before though.." His eyes met yours and your heart skipped a beat, you responded without even thinking and it flustered you to no end, "Do you have a teapot? May I see it if you do?"

"...I...don't have one, maybe, one day...we can make one together?"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

◥(•̀￦•́)◤☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 ☾𖤓~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney headcanons #lyneyfluff #lyney genshin #zhongli fluff #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli headcanons #zhongli genshin impact #tighnari genshin #tighnari x reader #tighnari x you #tighnari headcanons #tighnari fluff #heizou x you #heizou genshin impact #heizou x reader #heizou fluff #heizou headcanons #xiao x reader #xiao fluff #xiao x you #xiao headcanons #xiao genshin impact